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queenendless · 3 months ago

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A/n: As much as we all love current Jinwoo, every version of Jinwoo is precious. And SO!

All Jinwoos have romantic feelings for you but not for each other cause they're the same person.

Triple Sung Jinwoo x Fem!Adult!Reader

CW: MANWHA SPOILERS INSIDE! SPOILER ALERT: There will be a PT 2 to this one shot cause this got kinda long. So there's that.

BIG TIME What if AU. Angst, hurt/comfort, depression, chronic problems, sleeping anxiety.

NO PLAGARIZING, REPOSTING, TRANSLATING, USE OF MY FANFIC WORK IN AI STUFF ALLOWED. REBLOG, LIKE AND FOLLOW INSTEAD PLS N THNX.

You never imagined you'd become the light of your angel's life. You still have days when you think that it's all been one long dream and you'd wake up back in that grey lonely life you never want to go back to.

But no, waking up that afternoon in your shared spacious bedroom. Rolling in that King sized bed to detect his side had his scent lingering still. But empty. Meaning he hadn't returned from his guild work from yesterday.

The sound of the front door to your shared home opening got your heart racing with joy at the chance to see your dear Monarch again.

And yet, the ensuing situation that followed suit really did feel like walking into a dream. An unusual one at that, sure. But also quite intriguing.

“Neither a curse nor a status debuff, my ass. You'd think these new Monarch powers could undo this side effect?” The tallest Jinwoo grumbled under his breath, brushing back his hair in frustration, pacing back and forth in the living room.

“How are we supposed to be out in public now? Handle the guild? Seeing our folks? Our secret will be found out at this rate!” Post reawakened Jinwoo griped, pinning you in between him and pre reawakened Jinwoo like a sandwich, to your dopey smiling satisfaction.

“In any case, I'll be the one visiting the guild for those matters. Otherwise, you and I will tackle the dungeons ourselves, alone.”

“H-Hang on! Why should I be left behind?! I'm no male housewife!” Starter Jinwoo whined.

“Yeah, don't kid yourself, squirt.” Monarch Jinwoo ruffled his unruly mop of hair affectionately, his baby faced counterparts pouting and puffed up cheeks proving his point.

“Aw, please don't leave me alone.” You nuzzled his pink dusted face like a needy cat, that got him melting up.

“Uh – I – o – okay~” His bashful smile got you planting a big ol smooch on his lips. He couldn't stop smiling as he swooned over your lap.

Jinwoo #2 glared, a vein popping up on his head. “Hey, it's not fair he gets to hog our sweetheart all to himself all day while we have to work.”

“With no reawakening, he can't level up so he'd be putting himself at Death's door again like before. If even one of us dies, we'll all die and leave our family behind, including our beloved here. And they won't be defenseless.” King Jinwoo explained.

The sight of Beru appearing out of your Shadow got Jinwoo#1 trembling from fear instinctively at the imposing entity when Monarch Jinwoo stood between you two and his General.

“Should any harm come to these two, like getting distracted by your period dramas, you know what will happen, don't you?” The deadly gaze of his King spoke doom for the former Ant King.

Shadow Preservation will let him know the moment Beru fumbles.

“Yes, I do, my liege! I will not let you down! And if I fail, I will gladly accept my punishment! But please give me a chance to prove my usefulness to you all!” Beru weeped before his liege dismissed him, meshing into the shadow of —

“Jinwoo mochi.”

“ … Eh?” All three sweat dropped in sync.

The action of cupping OG Jinwoo's supple cheeks, kneading and pinching and rubbing your thumbs in circles on such pure smoothness had your eyes sparkle in wonder and your hums of content heard behind your smitten grin. The visual of pre Jinwoo's face going from pale to rosey red as his grey blue eyes had spirals of tipsy dazeness, incomprehensible sounds spilling out of his dopey smile.

“You are so fucking cute, I can't stand it!” Your playful growling as you indeed began chewing on his cheeks got his nervous laughs rumbling into your chest next, his heart in overdrive, matching beat for beat with yours.

The steamy blow of air through their noses was one warning signal that the other two Jinwoo were irked — envy molten auras in blue and purple another sign — that baby-faced them was getting your current attention.

“Don't you dare forget about me, beautiful~” Jinwoo the 2nd cockily purred in your ear, plopping behind you on the couch, nipping at your nape, his nose dotingly rubbing your cheek, keeping you struggling between focus on both bois.

“I'll engrave myself in your mind then~” The effortlessly hot deepness of King Jinwoo’s inflection had him gently grip your chin to raise your face to meet him over the couch in quite a devouring kiss.

“Hey, sharing is caring, you sneaky bastards!” Baby Jinwoo shrilled up. Breaking free just to save your deprived lungs, an all out argument between all three ensued, your light headed self slacking against the couch.

The cacophony of range these three voices could go filled in your now lively place.

And so, then began this unexpected arc in the story of you and Jinwoo times three.

Pre-reawakened Jinwoo.

While the other two would do their dungeon raids together, that meant you'd spend most of your time with him.

Stuck at home together meant you teaming up to manage it, whether that be folding laundry to even cook together. If you don't really cook, he's more than happy to teach you. Having his hands layer yours, pressed up against you from behind, is the best feeling. Course he'd melt in a puddle shortly after.

Taking walks together outdoors meant holding hands or intertwined arms as you spent hours chatting about anything, mesmerized in each other's eyes while admiring the flora and fauna of nature.

“Okay, I am the male wife.” He mumbled in surrender, slumping against you, both of you in your casual tees and shorts, binging your favorites together in the living room while sharing your snacks together one lazy day.

“He admits it!” You exclaimed dramatically, ruffling his already unruly shaggy mop to his giggling delight.

“I know I'm not like the other mes… but I will do my best to make you happy. I'll do anything for you. I love you with all my heart, saarang.”

You easily top him over, laying atop him, your bedroom eyes conjuring hearts in his grey blue irises. “Then I'll make sure you're reminded each and every day that you're just as well loved. You're all mine now, baby girl~”

His drawn out squeak was the only sign of him still alive from the embarrassment, slacking in your arms like a limp noodle.

He's the easiest to mess with, all out of love.

Post reawakened Jinwoo, still an E-rank.

You did most of your outings into the city with him. Usually he goes incognito, whether in caps and a face mask or keeping his hoodie on, hoping not to be spotted and mistaken for his S-rank self.

You both did the buying, groceries and window shopping. Your phone gallery was chock full of selfies with you and your bashful grinning hunter.

While Tank became his assigned Shadow in the meantime, he could serve as transport. But only when it was just you two around or unless it's an emergency. Besides, he still has his own speed skills. Hence, giving you piggyback rides before zipping away in a flash, leaving folk wandering nearby nearly falling over from the sudden strong gusts of winds he left in his wake. His cheeky grin looking back at you took your breath away.

Joining him in on his daily quest workouts nearly do you in, your physically ailing limits being the root cause. Your legs turn to jelly as you nearly collapse from fatigue but your dashing hunter lover makes sure to catch you in his arms, holding you tightly while riding on Tank for the trek back home.

While you can openly tease and mess with him, he's on even footing with you, even more so.

“It's a pain to be split in three and not knowing how long it'll last, so having you with me is a blessing. Now tell me, what will it take for you to make me the best Sung Jinwoo in your eyes? Come on, honey, let your angel Woo you over~”

That cheesy pun out of the blue sent you buckling over in bouts of laughter, nearly falling over but his arms enveloping you kept you standing within his grasp. “Wow. Can't believe that actually worked,” He murmured in astonishment, grinning confidently in response. “She has Sung her approval~!”

That got you cackling, clutching your aching tummy, as more puns came your way to leave you a breathless mess that went beyond his expectations, utterly convinced to be more silly from that point on, even after he hopefully becomes whole again.

And Shadow Monarch Jinwoo, the tenth S-rank hunter in Korea and the head of his own guild, is hands down the most possessive over you. The rare moments you get alone with him happen in his own private office when he takes you to work with him.

The selfie of him putting you in an explicit headlock rivaled every single photo you took with his reawakened past self. His vibrant violet eyes on his smug smirking face littered by your lipstick smooches, your blushing squished cheeks, those veins along that flexing bicep smothering your lip smeared shameless face.

Making a group chat with just the Jinwoos proved a bad call when the other two were driven up the wall with envy at their superior version laying claim to you when they weren't around. The stream of emojis from Jinwoo 1 merging with the countless threats from Jinwoo 2 made big boss Jin darkly chuckle in the entertaining response, the mirthful twinkle in his eyes rippling from spotting you red in the face like mush in his big leather desk chair.

Unwinding from the stress of his guild master duties and keeping face with his colleagues and family while also having to wait out however long this three in one problem will last. Taking rides together on Kaisel gave you both a much needed breath of fresh air. Updating you on pupil Jinwoo's progress leveling up although the Gates turn red whenever he joins in said gate all to challenge him. He assures you immensely that he ensures his other self’s safety while sharing the EXP.

“Sharing you with my other selves has been quite the test for my tolerance.” Tugging insistently on his tie, the taut muscle definition of his upper chest peaked out, his neck flexing those veins, flaring his collar out in the process. “However, I am resolved to remind them just who truly is in charge here.” Pinning you literally on top of his desk came just as quick as you did already feeling him brush up against your valley. “Including you~”

Chronic problems plagued your form. Daily migraines, tense knots in your neck, the works. Regardless of which Jinwoo does it, massages always come your way. Whether resting your head on their lap or laying down on the bed, you melted from their shared skill touch.

Of course not every day is sunshine and rainbows. With chronic issues also came depression. Of course, all three dudes come to an agreement on equally giving you space to unwind as well as teaming up to give you all their affection.

Jinwoo #1 gifts you single flowers that grew surrounding your home, placing them behind your ear after presenting you one each day. Home-cooked meals are a given at this point, keeping in mind your allergies and dietary restrictions should you have any. He helps prepare salt baths that you more than invite him to join you to keep your clingy self company. And he lends his hoodie for comfort on those moody grey days.

Jinwoo #2 gifts you during your shopping sprees together, purchasing plushies and apparel to even getting fried chicken that you make sure you have enough to share with all your bois at home. You and him game together when he comes home early from raiding. Although his fatigue relief skill kicked in, he still deflated in your embrace welcoming him back home in the foyer, nuzzling your adorable face like a needy feline himself. Plus, his rambunctious commentary sends you into a wheezing mess, handing him easy wins. The times you did dethrone him resulted in his stubborn self knowing he could do better, challenging you for another round.

Jinwoo #3 is the one most able to give you anything your heart desires. With such influence and connections on top of his limitless abilities as the reincarnated Monarch, he would make anything possible. But considering he was the busiest out of the three, all you really wanted was to spend more time together. He still gifted you the same items as his other selves, but he made sure to include a fancy dinner and a dance among the stars as an inviting bonus.

Sleep anxiety is also a struggle you face. Incidents from your dreary past late at night left their scars. So taking naps now and then throughout the day after sleeping in the morning was your norm.

Even now, comfortably sleeping through the night is difficult, anxiety making you uncomfortable on edge for the unpredictable and unknown.

One step, one night at a time, the secure embrace giving you reassuring squeezes in bed reminding you you weren't alone. Whichever Jinwoo it is, they all are perfect bedmates. Their cooing words became your ASMR.

“Ssh. There there. I'm right here. Listen to my breathing, my heart, my voice. You can rest easy now, sweetheart.”

Kissing your teary face and letting you rest on their cozy warm chests as they rubbed comforting circles along your back, the combined sensations slowly aided in your sleep, however long or short.

So returning the favor only made sense.

All three Jinwoos suffered from nightmares. Mostly Jinwoo #1. Night terrors were his own sleep struggle throughout this story arc. Especially from dreams of the Double Dungeon. Breaking out in a cold sweat, tossing and turning, whimpering and weeping, before screaming out in awakening, heaving haphazardly, desperately reaching his hands out to you, clinging to you like the lifeline you are. Especially on nights when your other Jins’ are still out due to whatever reason.

Singing a lullaby song you heard from a show that really stuck with you helped a great deal in calming him down. Cradling him in your arms, brushing through those sweat matted bangs, your voice was the angel of music gracing his ears. It's too mesmerizing to ignore.

“You're okay. You're alright. I'll never ever leave your side. I will stay and I will fight with you~”

Unbeknownst to you two, Beru's shadow linked to both versions of his master, Jinwoo #3 swoons over your heavenly voice, smiling like a lovesick fool, Jinho silently hoping they finish work early so his big bro can get back to you, his one and only.

“Please don't leave me. Please stay, Y/n.” Your Jin baby's wish gets granted by your doting, utilizing the same exact methods they use to treat your night troubles.

Jinwoo 2 is less vocal when he wakes up from bad dreams. Yet you feel a sturdy heat envelope around you. His endearing gaze grew the more he stared at your peaceful face, his stare blurring from warm wetness, blinking them back before pecking your forehead. “You're my dream come true~” He whispers lovingly in your ear before cuddling up against your precious self, tears actually shed as you return the hug through your slumber, thoughts of you and only you lulling him into good old dream land.

Now Jinwoo 3 is something else. He usually sits up, lost in thought for a bit, before heading to the kitchen for a mug of water and maybe even preparing some food to keep him busy. And every time, he could feel you arising, finding him, and joining him all so he wouldn't be alone. He'd do the same for you. They all would, absolutely.

You can hear the aching vulnerability trembling with each breath he took as his towering frame draped over you, his shoulders shaking as his hands clawed at your back, your very existence grounding him in the here and now.

“Parts of me will never be the same, not after all I've done … yet you still choose me. How did I ever deserve you, huh?” His nose caresses yours, rocking with you side to side, as his submerging look sunk its hold upon your trembling soul. “Y/n, you truly are something else. My safe haven~”

While having three Jinwoos is indeed a handful, seeing every part of him that make up who he is reminds you of his empathy, sympathy, cleverness, tactfulness, and brilliance.

But you too hope that your three darlings become whole again soon.

And soon enough, at last, your shared prayers were finally heard.

The solution to this dilemma?

Well ...

What do you think~?

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jungkoode · 1 month ago

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THE 25TH HOUR | O9

“𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋”

“We’re designed to fit,” he says, and you don’t know if he means your powers, your patterns, or the way your hand doesn’t shake in his.

next | index

— chapter details

word count: 6,7k

content: reality anchors, the quantum physics are quaking, yoongi being bossy again (and hot about it), elevator scene tension 10/10, jumping across buildings like it's casual (it is NOT), spatial distortion flirty edition, golden tendrils 2.0 (they touched... physically and emotionally??), temporal signature matching (yes it’s hot), someone finally says “we’re designed to fit” and i screamed, drone murder attempt ig, jungkook makes a dramatic entrance and is so annoying about it, team regroup ft. unexplained powers and too many secrets, portal time but make it traumatic.

— author’s note

KAY. LISTEN.

I know I say this every chapter but THIS ONE. this one fried several neurons and may have permanently altered the molecular structure of my spine. I started with “hm what if they walked through a reality anchor” and ended with “what if they synchronized their temporal signatures mid-freefall and touched tendrils in public like absolute whores.” I don’t know what to tell you. I blacked out. This is between me and my caffeine addiction now.

Let’s talk about the jump scene. Yes. You clocked it. That moment where Noma is calculating the distance and Yoongi says “don’t think, just need” and then she LAUNCHES HERSELF INTO THE VOID? Yeah. That may or may not have been deeply inspired by Neo’s rooftop jump in The Matrix (1999, my beloved). I am a massive Matrix nerd. That whole visual of someone standing on the edge of a building, trying to defy the physics they were born into, and being told “your mind is the thing in your way”? It’s been living rent-free in my frontal lobe since I was 13 and thought trench coats were peak fashion.

Because this chapter is, like, extremely about trust. And control. And the horror of not understanding what’s happening inside your own body. It’s about Noma confronting the fact that her mind—her beautiful, precise, analytical mind—is what’s limiting her. And Yoongi, who already knows, who’s BEEN like this longer, who knows what it’s like to break through that threshold and feel the laws of reality tilt around your perception, he’s just THERE. Guiding her. Softly threatening to reset time like a feral little guardian angel.

Also… let’s not ignore the fact that she destroys a drone with her brain and he’s like “cool. moving on.” Sir?? She just folded metal into origami. But okay go off I guess.

AND THEN THEY SYNCH TEMPORAL SIGNATURES. don’t even look at me. I wrote that and sat there like “huh. interesting. so that’s what soulmates sound like in science fiction.” I had to go walk around the block. I made them fit on a molecular level. I made their body chemistry harmonize. Why? Because I am unwell and this is my therapy.

Anyway. Thanks for reading I love you all. Scientifically.

— read on

ao3

wattpad

Reality Anchors are alive.

No one ever told you that part. No briefing, no memo, no research paper had ever mentioned that these imposing structures breathe.

The anchor in front of you rises 37.2 meters from ground to apex, its surface composed of quantum-stabilized alloy that shouldn't—couldn't—pulse like that.

Yet it does. Every 7 seconds, a wave of molecular adjustment ripples from base to tip, disturbing air molecules in concentric patterns that register against your skin at precisely 0.3 pascals of pressure.

Fascinating.

Your retinas register the faint blue luminescence emanating from seams in the structure-temporal energy bleeding through containment fields.

It feels like reality itself is being compressed into a more efficient configuration.

"Mesmerizing," you murmur, cataloging the observable data. "The quantum-stabilized glass panels are oriented at exactly 73 degrees to maximize temporal field distribution. And the energy consumption must be—”

"No."

You blink, neural processes stuttering at the interruption.

Agent Min has stopped walking and turned to face you fully, his stance registering as 37% more rigid than his baseline.

"I didn't say anything," you point out, tilting your head 12 degrees in genuine confusion.

"Didn't have to." His eyes narrow by approximately 0.3 centimeters.

"Then what are you saying no to?"

"You know what."

"I genuinely don't." Your brow furrows, creating a 0.4-centimeter depression between your eyebrows. "It seems statistically improbable that you could accurately predict my thought patterns without established baseline data."

His mouth twitches—suppressed micro-expression, 0.7 seconds in duration.

"Were you or were you not thinking of using a little detour to satiate that insane curiosity of yours?"

Your silence registers at approximately 3.2 seconds.

Longer than optimal for casual conversation.

"Exactly. No."

"I find your anticipation of my mental processes presumptuous," you counter, eyes returning to the reality anchor when the uppermost floors shimmer slightly—a temporal distortion effect that standard human vision would filter out. “And I do not appreciate it.”

"Get used to it," he says, resuming walking at a pace 7% faster than before. "You will."

You match his stride automatically.

"The probability of you developing accurate predictive models of my cognitive patterns seems—”

"Already developed," he interrupts, checking his modified Chrono-Sync Watch with a quick glance. "Seventh time you've tried to investigate a reality anchor. Always the same pattern."

This statement contains multiple logical inconsistencies. You've never attempted to investigate a reality anchor before. Your security clearance wouldn't permit it.

Yet your temporal analysis centers don't flag it as a falsehood.

"How would you know that?"

He doesn't answer, instead gesturing toward the adjacent tower—a colossal structure of similar materials that rises at least 100 floors into the artificially blue sky.

"Travel spot is somewhere in the upper levels," he says, eyes scanning the building's facade. "We need to access it through the anchor first."

You process this information, calculating optimal routes.

"Why can't you pinpoint the exact location?" you ask, question emerging from your analytical centers. "Your previous statements implied familiarity with the network."

His jaw tightens by approximately 4.3 newtons.

"Travel spots shift position by 0.7 meters every 73 minutes," he explains, voice roughened. "Quantum uncertainty principle applied to spatial coordinates. Prevents CHRONOS from establishing fixed monitoring."

"That seems inefficient for a resistance network," you observe.

"That's the point." He checks his watch again—third time in 7.3 minutes. "Inefficiency creates unpredictability. CHRONOS systems are designed for pattern recognition."

You approach the base of the reality anchor, where a standard-looking entrance is monitored by temporal signature scanners disguised as decorative elements.

"How do we bypass security?" you ask, noting at least three visible monitoring devices and calculating a 94.7% probability of additional concealed systems.

"We don't," he says, reaching into his jacket and extracting what appears to be a standard CHRONOS identification card. "We walk in like we belong."

The card in his hand triggers your pattern recognition— holographic security features match authorized maintenance personnel credentials.

"Falsified identification carries a minimum penalty of 73 days in temporal isolation," you note automatically.

He almost smiles—left corner of his mouth lifting 0.2 centimeters.

"Only if you get caught."

He approaches the entrance with casual gait, and you follow—still processing the anchor's structure.

The quantum equations rippling across its surface follow a pattern that suggests...

"I told you to stop analyzing," he murmurs, voice barely audible at 17 decibels. "Your temporal signature fluctuates when you're thinking too hard. Makes you detectable."

You attempt to modulate your thought patterns, an unusual exercise that creates a 0.3-second lag in your cognitive processing.

He swipes the identification card through the scanner, which responds with a soft tone at exactly 432 Hz—the standard confirmation frequency.

The interior of the reality anchor is even more fascinating than its exterior.

The lobby appears standard-neo-minimalist design, temporal-stabilized plants arranged at mathematically significant intervals—but your enhanced perception detects the subtle wrongness of the space.

The air pressure is precisely 0.7 kPa higher than standard atmospheric conditions.

The lighting pulses at a frequency of 7 Hz, which is imperceptible to normal human vision but clearly designed to reinforce temporal compliance in visitors.

"Maintenance elevator is on the left," Agent Min says, guiding you with a subtle gesture. "Don't look at the central column."

Naturally, your eyes immediately flick toward the center of the lobby.

The sight momentarily overloads your visual processing.

A column of pure temporal energy rises from floor to ceiling, contained within quantum-stabilized glass. The energy moves in patterns that defy standard physical laws—simultaneously flowing upward and downward, existing in multiple states… at once?

"I said don't look," he hisses, fingers closing around your wrist to redirect; not enough to cause discomfort.

"What is that?" you ask, unable to fully suppress your curiosity despite his warning.

"The anchor point," he says, voice tightening as he guides you toward the maintenance elevator. "Direct connection to the Master Clock. Looking at it too long causes temporal vertigo in most humans."

You save this information, filing it under high-priority data.

"And in non-humans?"

His steps falter—0.3-second hesitation.

"In Outliers," he corrects quietly, "it can trigger awakening."

The maintenance elevator requires another scan of his falsified credentials.

As the doors close, enclosing you in a space of approximately 2.3 cubic meters, you notice the absence of standard temporal monitoring devices.

"Why aren't there cameras?" you ask, scanning the ceiling corners where monitoring equipment would typically be installed.

"Reality anchors generate too much temporal interference for standard surveillance," he explains, pressing the button for floor 30. "Creates blind spots in their system."

"That seems like a significant security vulnerability," you observe.

His mouth quirks again.

You don’t know why you’re starting to find the gesture attractive.

"Why do you think we're using it?"

The elevator ascends at precisely 3.7 meters per second, which you note is faster than standard civilian elevators but slower than executive transport. Your inner ear registers the acceleration, adjusting automatically.

"The travel spot," you begin, mind working through the problem. "You said it's in the upper levels of the adjacent tower. Why can't we access it directly?"

He leans against the elevator wall, posture relaxing by approximately 7%.

"Security protocols," he says. "The tower has standard monitoring. The anchor doesn't. We cross through the anchor's 30th floor-maintenance level, and then we use the connecting bridge to access the tower."

"And after that?"

"After that, we find the travel spot." He checks his watch again—fourth time in 12.7 minutes. "It should be somewhere between floors 90 and 97."

You calculate the search parameters.

"That's approximately 7,432 square meters of potential location space," you note. "Seems inefficient."

"I'll narrow it down once we're closer," he says. "My temporal sense can detect the quantum fluctuations at closer proximity."

The elevator slows as it approaches floor 30, and Agent Min straightens, resuming his alert posture.

"When we exit, walk like you're supposed to be here," he instructs. "Maintenance personnel check this level every 73 minutes. Current interval gives us approximately 47 minutes before the next sweep."

"Understood," you confirm, automatically adjusting your posture to match standard CHRONOS maintenance staff parameters—shoulders back, gaze forward, movements economic and purposeful.

The elevator doors open to reveal a stark corridor illuminated by temporal-stabilized lighting.

Walls are lined with quantum-reinforced panels marked with mathematical equations that your pattern recognition identifies as temporal field calculations.

Agent Min steps out first, fluid and confident.

You follow, checking every detail of this restricted environment that few civilians ever see.

"Don't touch anything," he warns, leading you down the corridor. "Some of these panels are directly connected to the temporal field generators."

You resist the urge to examine the equations more closely, focusing instead on maintaining the appropriate walking pace and posture.

"The connecting bridge is 23 meters ahead," he says, voice low. "Once we cross, we'll need to take the service stairs. The tower's elevators are monitored."

"Stairs?" you query, calculating the energy expenditure required to ascend approximately 60 floors. "That seems—"

"Necessary," he interrupts. "Unless you'd prefer to explain to CHRONOS why we're accessing restricted floors."

You concede the point with a slight nod.

15 degrees downward, 15 degrees upward.

As you walk, your mind continues processing the reality anchor's structure, the equations on the walls, the subtle vibration beneath your feet that suggests massive energy manipulation occurring somewhere below.

"You're thinking too loud again," Agent Min murmurs, not turning to look at you.

"That's not physically possible," you counter automatically.

"Your temporal signature disagrees," he says, tapping his temple with his index finger. "I can feel it fluctuating."

This statement contains another logical inconsistency.

Standard humans cannot detect temporal signatures without specialized equipment.

Yet once again, your temporal analysis centers don't flag it as a falsehood.

"How—" you begin.

"Bridge is just ahead. Stay close."

But the bridge…

It’s not offline. It’s gone.

You stare at the empty space where reinforced glass and temporal alloys should’ve formed a secure pathway.

Only support beams remain, jagged edges still glowing from whatever energy weapon severed them.

Agent Min’s eyebrows do something statistically improbable—contracting inward by 0.9 centimeters while the skin between them folds into three distinct creases.

You’ve never seen his face execute this particular combination of micro-expressions before.

“They altered this sector’s infrastructure,” he mutters, more to himself than you.

His left hand twitches toward his Chrono-Sync Watch, aborting the movement halfway.

You pivot toward the window, retinal sensors catching a faint outline-maintenance door, 3.2 meters left of the destroyed bridge.

Beyond it: a sheer drop, then the adjacent tower’s western face.

Your mind calculates the distance before your ethics committee can veto the idea.

“We could jump.”

He doesn’t immediately dismiss it.

That’s how you know things are bad.

“Distance?” he asks, joining you at the window.

“14.7 meters horizontally, 3.3 meters vertical elevation differential.” You tap the glass, triggering a subconscious visualization overlay. “Structural analysis indicates the target building’s exterior has adequate grip points for—”

“For me,” he interrupts. His breath fogs the glass near your fingertip. “Not for you.”

You tilt your head, analyzing his profile. “You’re suggesting I remain here while you—”

“I’m suggesting you stop suggesting suicide vectors.” His jaw works, a muscle ticking at 2.7-second intervals. “There’s another route. Has to be.”

You let him pace—eight steps toward the elevator, twelve back—before interrupting.

“Average human long jump record is 8.95 meters. My enhanced musculature could theoretically—”

“Theoretically splatter across sixty floors of neo-Brutalist architecture.”

You frown. “We’re only thirty floors up.”

“From the anchor,” he says. “The tower’s foundation sits two levels below base-grade. It drops into a full infrastructure pit—ventilation shafts, temporal gridwork, CHRONOS substation access. You fall here, you don’t just hit pavement. You keep falling.”

He gestures down through the glass.

“Sixty floors straight into the sector’s hollowed-out gut. Like getting thrown down a well lined with concrete and death.”

How does he even know all that?

But before you can let curiosity get the best of you again, he stops mid-stride, pinning you with that look again. The one that makes your internal processors skip.

“But—”

“No.”

You frown, press your palm against the window, feeling the tower’s vibration through the glass.

“Then you go first. Anchor a line. I’ll follow.”

He’s already shaking his head. “Temporal energy doesn’t work like that. Can’t manifest solid constructs without—”

“Without triggering every sensor in the sector. Yes.” You turn from the window, meeting his glare. “So, again, that leaves one option.”

For three seconds, the only sound is the reality anchor’s low-frequency hum.

Then he swears—a creative combination of English and technical jargon your language centers can’t fully parse.

The maintenance door handle feels colder than ambient temperature suggests. You’re calculating wind shear variables when his gloved hand covers yours, halting the motion.

“If we do this,” he says, voice stripped to its raw edges, “you follow my instructions exactly. No deviations. No calculations mid-air. Understood?”

You nod, the movement precise.

15 degrees down, 15 up.

He releases your hand to grip both shoulders instead, leaning in until his mint-and-ozone scent overrides the tower’s sterile air.

“When you jump, you don’t think about falling. You don’t think about distance. You think about needing to be on that ledge. Your entire existence becomes that single purpose.”

You open your mouth to request clarification on biomechanical feasibility—

“No.” His fingers tighten. “No questions. Your body knows how. You just have to stop overloading it with doubt.”

The paradox registers immediately.

“But without understanding the mechanism—”

“Understanding comes later.” His thumb presses into your collarbone, exactly where that freckle hides beneath synthetic fabric. “Surviving comes now.”

You glance past him to the abyss.

He opens the door.

The wind’s howling at 37 knots now, whipping hair into your eyes.

“Probability of success?”

He doesn’t sugarcoat it. “Sixty-eight percent. If you focus.”

“And if I don’t?”

For the first time, his face contracts—a fractional widening of pupils, a minuscule catch in his breathing rhythm.

“Then I’ll reset time until you do.”

The words register as raw, hovering between you for a few seconds before he finally turns toward the void.

You watch him leap—no hesitation, no visible calculation. Just pure intent translated into motion.

He makes it look effortless.

And then it’s your turn.

The wind screams. The city sprawls below, a mosaic of blue-lit grids and shadow.

You psych up the variables: air density, potential updrafts, the exact angle of your target ledge.

Then you stop thinking.

You launch, and the world narrows to wind and numbers.

For a moment, there’s no sound, no up or down. Just velocity and the impossible distance between you and the ledge.

Adrenaline floods your system, not sharp but heavy, like a stone pressed to your sternum.

You’re aware of your own mass, the drag of your body through air, the way your limbs cut a path no algorithm could ever predict.

Agent Min is already there, turned halfway, eyes tracking your arc. His mouth moves—maybe a warning, maybe your ID number—but the rush drowns it out.

You think of the other side. You need to reach the other side.

The imperative is simple, absolute.

Not crossing means plummeting. Not crossing means becoming a data point in a CHRONOS incident report.

You make the mistake of looking down.

Thirty floors up, the city is abstract.

Cars, people, light—all reduced to static.

The void is real.

You feel it in your teeth, in the way your stomach seems to invert, in the cold sweat prickling your palms.

Your calculations fracture. The ground is coming up fast.

You look up.

Agent Min’s silhouette sharpens against the skyline, mint hair a streak of color in the blue haze. His eyes widen—first time you’ve seen that particular fear.

He’s reaching for something, or maybe just reaching.

You’re falling.

The world tilts. Air roars past your ears. Time dilates, then contracts.

You’re aware of every heartbeat, every useless attempt your muscles make to grab onto empty space.

The ledge is gone. The city is too close.

Then—discontinuity.

You’re upright. Feet planted on solid ground. Breath caught in your throat.

Your hands move before your mind does, fingers flexing, checking for fractures, for blood, for any sign of what should have happened.

Everything responds. No pain. No missing time.

Agent Min spins, posture radiating pure stress and panic.

His face is a study in shock—mouth open, eyes blown wide, like he’s seen a ghost.

You blink. He blinks.

Your heart is still racing, but your body is whole. You’re here. You made it. The numbers don’t add up, but the outcome is undeniable.

You’re alive.

Agent Min’s gaze darts between your left and right pupils, rapid assessment mode engaged, as if he’s scanning for damage or data.

“Damn it, Noma,” he mutters, voice rough and frayed at the edges. “Holy hell.”

His hands clench into tight fists at his sides, knuckles whitening under the strain.

You note the micro-tremor in his fingers-2.3 hertz, consistent with suppressed impulse.

He exhales, a controlled release of 1.7 liters of air over 3.1 seconds, then drags a gloved hand down his face, smearing frustration across his features.

Before you can catalog further, a mechanical whine pierces the air-high-pitched, 17 kHz, consistent with a CHRONOS surveillance drone.

Agent Min’s posture shifts instantly, weight forward, arm half-raised to shield or shove you aside.

“Watch—”

You tilt your head back, a reflex, not a decision.

There’s a sound—metal crumpling, like foil under pressure—and the drone’s frame twists mid-flight, folding inward at impossible angles.

It drops, a lifeless heap, 4.7 meters below the ledge.

He stares at the wreckage, then at you.

“Well. Alright then.”

Your mind is already running diagnostics.

“Did I cause that?”

He lets out a long, resigned breath, shoulders dropping by 1.2 centimeters.

“Yeah. You did.”

“How?”

Your spatial awareness logs are blank—no memory of intent, no record of action. Yet the evidence is undeniable: twisted alloy, a perfect collapse.

You flex your fingers again, searching for a trigger, a mechanism. “Was that a manipulation of spatial configuration? A localized distortion field? I need parameters.”

He steps closer, mint and ozone cutting through the sterile tower air, but his expression is all weariness.

“We gotta move, Noma. Now.”

You plant your feet, shifting your center of gravity to counter his subtle pull.

“Explanation required. Did I alter the drone’s physical positioning? Compress its structural integrity via spatial warp? Or—”

He makes a sound full of resignation.

“Look, Noma, I l—”

He cuts himself off, jaw snapping shut with an audible click.

A recalibration.

“I get it. I do. But we don’t have the luxury of a debrief right now.”

Your brow creases, a 0.5-centimeter furrow.

“Understanding the mechanics of an undocumented ability is not a luxury. It’s a necessity. If I can replicate—”

“You will,” he interrupts, voice low but firm, carrying a weight you can’t parse. “Just not here. Not with drones sniffing our temporal signatures.”

You glance at the wreckage again, mind spinning through theoretical models.

No data, no precedent.

Just a gut—deep certainty that you reshaped reality without conscious input.

The implications are staggering.

If you can do this instinctively, what else lies dormant? What are the limits? Energy costs? Detection risks?

He’s watching you, reading the cascade of queries behind your eyes. “I know that look. And I’m telling you to shelve it. We’re exposed.”

“Five seconds,” you negotiate, already cross-referencing the drone’s design against known CHRONOS tech. “If I can isolate the method—”

“Zero seconds.” He grumbles, fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you behind him. “Survival first. Science later.”

Your logic centers protest, but the risk assessment aligns with his.

You exhale—petulant, probably, but you do not care.

Because whatever you did, it’s a piece of the puzzle. A fragment of who—or what—you are.

And you’ll dissect it, variable by variable, until the equation balances.

You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until the air shifts.

Up here, it tastes different.

Thinner. Filtered, maybe. Like someone cleaned it too well, stripped it of anything real.

The ground is nothing but blur—washed out in streaks of artificial white and synthetic blue haze. Designed to erase depth perception. To flatten the concept of below into something distant. Forgettable.

CHRONOS engineering at its finest.

You step closer to the edge, boots scraping faintly against the metal grating.

The city is unrecognizable from this height. Not a city at all, just layers of grids and light. Soft pulses of movement that don’t quite feel alive. No wind reaches this far up, only some sort of hum—low, steady, mechanical.

You wonder if the workers stationed here can still hear it when they sleep.

If they ever sleep.

You’ve read the reports. Rotating shifts, twenty-hour cycles, neural stimulants to bypass natural fatigue responses. Cognitive degradation flagged as acceptable collateral. Worker retention rate at 37.2%.

In other words: not sustainable.

But great pay.

You press your fingertips lightly to the edge of the railing. Cool to the touch. Grounding, somehow.

You scan the skyline, calculating angles, distances, escape vectors you’re not sure you’ll ever need but catalog anyway.

That’s what you do.

What you’ve always done.

But the sky pulls at you. Quietly. Persistently.

Dark velvet stretched wide above your head, broken only by the scatter of stars.

You tip your chin back, gaze locking onto a thousand silent points of light, each one burning impossibly far away.

Data points you can never reach, but something in you reaches anyway.

And there—framed in that endless black—

The moon.

Not in any model you’ve ever studied. Not filtered through facility-grade optics or distorted by atmospheric interference.

Just… suspended. Brilliant. Whole. A perfect sphere painted in shades of silver and shadow.

It’s too much, too big.

Your breath catches again, chest tightening like something fragile just cracked open inside you.

It escapes before you can stop it. A single word.

“Beautiful.”

Soft. Uncalculated.

You freeze the second it leaves your mouth, pulse stuttering in your throat.

You didn’t mean to say that.

You never mean to say things like that.

A breath stirs the space beside you. Not yours.

“…Yeah.”

Quiet. Barely more than air.

“…Beautiful.”

The confirmation scrapes against something unsteady inside you.

You shouldn’t turn. You know you shouldn’t. But your gaze shifts anyway, slow and reluctant, as if giving your body too much permission might undo you entirely.

He’s already watching.

Agent Min.

Not the skyline. Not the moon. Not the impossible stretch of space yawning above you.

You.

And he doesn’t look away.

For a suspended second, nobody speaks.

Then his eyes flicker gold.

It's the seventeenth time you've seen it happen. Seventeenth. You've been keeping count, tracking when it occurs, searching for the pattern. Not random—nothing about him is ever random—but the trigger remains frustratingly elusive.

Is it emotional response? Memory access? Some kind of power regulation failing?

You step closer until you can detect the subtle heat radiating from him—always running warmer than human baseline.

His pupils track your movement, dilating slightly.

A measurable response.

His fingers tighten on the railing, leather creaking under pressure. You note this detail, file it away.

He stares at you.

You stare back.

"I've been meaning to ask," you say, keeping your voice even despite the strange pressure building under your sternum—like something's trying to expand beyond the confines of your ribcage.

His throat shifts as he swallows. Blinks once.

“Ask what?"

"Your eyes."

His gaze slides away, avoiding yours for exactly 3.2 seconds before returning. Avoidance behavior.

Why?

The silence grows heavy between you.

If you were better at social interactions, you might understand why he doesn't respond.

But you're not, so you elaborate.

"I have noticed they appear to shine at certain moments." You tilt your head slightly. "The same color as your tendrils. But I can't seem to figure out the why."

His focus drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. Quick. Almost imperceptible. But you catch it—and the flash of gold that accompanies it.

Interesting correlation.

He looks at your lips = eyes change.

Cause and effect?

Sexual response?

Your gloved hand lifts toward his face, hovering in the space between you.

Not touching. Not yet. Just... there. Testing a hypothesis.

"Noma," he says, your nickname rough around the edges. "That's... not advisable."

Why does that name feel so familiar when he says it?

"Why not?" The tilt of your head increases, curiosity sharpening. "I'm collecting data. Your ocular anomalies appear to correlate with specific emotional states."

You watch his pupils expand, blackness swallowing the iris except for that gleaming ring of gold.

"It's not a lab experiment." His jaw clenches, muscle rippling beneath skin.

He's restraining something. But what?

"Everything is data," you counter, your hand still suspended between you. "The gold appears when proximity decreases between us. When conversation shifts toward personal topics. When you look at my—"

You stop yourself. Recalibrate.

"When certain visual attention patterns emerge."

His breath changes rhythm—slower in, quicker out. You track this shift automatically.

"And what conclusion have you reached based on these... observations?" His voice has become unsteady.

In it, a roughness that wasn't there before.

The scientist in you needs to categorize it.

The rest of you just wants to hear more of it.

"Insufficient evidence for definitive conclusion." Your palm drifts closer to his face. "Hence the need for additional testing parameters."

"Agent." Warning laces his tone, but you note the contradiction in his body language—the slight forward tilt, the micromovement toward your hand.

Your watch beeps softly. Temporal variance: 0.87%.

Why does your temporal signature fluctuate around him?

Why does your body recognize patterns your brain can't access?

"The gloves provide sufficient barrier protection for initial contact testing," you say, though in the back of your mind, you know that's not why you want to touch him. Not really.

"It's not about the barrier," he says, still not pulling away.

"Then what is it about?"

His eyes lock with yours, longer than his usual pattern. Something shifts in them—not just the color, but something deeper.

Like barriers cracking.

"It's about..." He pauses, searching for words. "Restraint."

"Explain."

Not a request. A need.

One corner of his mouth quirks up. "Demanding tonight, aren't we?"

Your hand inches closer.

"Is that why your eyes change?" You push for answers, always pushing. "A failure of restraint?"

A sound catches in his throat, something between amusement and pain.

"They change when I'm..." He stops, recalibrates. "When I feel things too strongly."

"What things?"

"Anger. Fear."

His gaze drops to your mouth again, longer this time.

"Want."

The word settles into your chest, makes a home there.

Your lungs feel suddenly insufficient, breath coming shorter despite oxygen levels remaining constant.

"And now?" Your voice sounds different to your own ears, pitched lower. "Which is it?"

His hand leaves the railing, wraps around your wrist. Not pushing away—just holding. Containing—touch gentle but unmistakably firm.

"What do you think, Noma?" Your nickname sounds different this time.

Softer. Almost tender.

Why does it affect you when he says it like that?

You mentally catalog his physiological responses: dilated pupils, elevated respiration, muscle tension patterns indicating both arousal and resistance.

"Want," you determine with absolute certainty.

His eyes flare gold again—holding this time, not flickering away.

"Good analysis," he murmurs, still not releasing your wrist.

Your pulse thrums against his fingers. You can feel it jumping, betraying things your clinical mind refuses to name.

"May I?" Your gloved hand moves closer to his cheek.

Why are you pushing this? Why does it matter?

This isn't efficient data collection.

This is... something else.

His throat works as he swallows.

"We shouldn't," he says, strain evident in every syllable. "That's my professional assessment."

"We're both still wearing gloves," you argue, logic centers frantically constructing justifications. "Barrier intact. Risk parameters acceptable."

"You know it’s not about statistics." His grip loosens slightly.

He doesn't elaborate.

Something complicated moves across his face, too fast for even your pattern recognition to decipher.

You need to know. You need to understand.

Why him? Why you? Why now?

Decision made, your hand pushes forward, breaking through his weakened resistance. Your gloved fingers make contact with his cheek.

And—

Oh.

The sensation defies categorization. Despite the barrier of fabric between you, something passes through the touch.

A current.

An echo.

Something your scientific vocabulary can't properly name.

His eyes close. He looks suddenly vulnerable in a way that makes your chest ache.

"Your temporal signature," he says quietly, "it just... aligned with mine."

Your eyes drop to your watch. Temporal variance: 0.00%.

Perfect stabilization.

That's impossible.

There's no precedent for this in any temporal physics model.

"How?" The question slips out, unfiltered and raw.

His eyes open slowly, gold filling them completely now.

Steady and bright and impossibly beautiful.

Beautiful.

"Because," he says simply, "we're designed to fit."

You should process this information. Should file it away with all your other observations about Agent Min and his inexplicable abilities. Should create new theoretical models to explain the perfect temporal alignment currently registered on your watch.

Instead, you just... feel.

The warmth beneath your fingers. The impossible gold of his eyes. The way your body seems to recognize him on some cellular level your mind can't access.

‘We're designed to fit.’

The implications of that statement should terrify you.

Instead, they feel like coming home.

You're staring into his golden eyes when a low whizz cuts through the air.

Your auditory processing centers register the sound at approximately 17kHz—just within human hearing range, but with a distinct mechanical oscillation pattern consistent with CHRONOS drone propulsion systems.

Before your brain can fully process the threat, Agent Min's head whips around—reaction time approximately 0.3 seconds faster than optimal human baseline. His pupils contract, gold flares brighter, mouth opens to form what appears to be a warning.

Too late.

Something hits you from behind—force vector approximately 47 newtons, angle of impact suggesting deliberate trajectory. The pressure against your back lasts precisely 0.7 seconds.

Then nothing.

Air rushes past your ears at increasing velocity. Your inner ear fluid shifts dramatically, sending conflicting data to your vestibular system. Gravity reasserts its dominance with brutal efficiency.

You're falling.

Again.

Acceleration rate: 9.8 meters per second squared.

Terminal velocity approaching.

Probability of survival without intervention: 0.003%.

The analytical part of your brain calculates these figures automatically while your body experiences what can only be termed as terror—heart rate spike of 73%, adrenal glands flooding your system with cortisol and epinephrine.

"NOMA!"

The sound tears through the rushing air—raw, primal, carrying a frequency range your pattern recognition flags as desperate.

You twist mid-air, arms instinctively moving to shield your head from inevitable impact.

That's when you see him.

Agent Min.

Yoongi.

Falling just above you, body positioned in a perfect diving form that creates maximum aerodynamic efficiency.

His trajectory indicates purposeful action.

He jumped after you.

He's saying something—lips moving rapidly—but the blood rushing in your ears creates a noise barrier approximately 84 decibels. His words are lost in the chaos of your fall.

Your abilities.

The thought crystallizes with sudden clarity.

You teleported earlier. Spatial manipulation. If you could replicate that effect now—

Focus. But how? What's the trigger mechanism?

Your thoughts scatter across multiple processing centers, frantically searching for the neural pathway that activated during the previous incident.

Agent Min never explained the mechanics.

He should have.

You’ll make sure to have that conversation later.

If you survive, that is.

Golden tendrils emerge from his outstretched fingers, extending at velocities that defy standard temporal physics. They reach toward you, pushing against the air itself as if trying to accelerate his fall beyond normal gravitational parameters.

You struggle to replicate whatever neural pathway activated before. Nothing happens. Your fingers flex, your mind focuses, your desperation builds.

What triggered it before? Survival instinct? Specific neural configuration? Direct threat vector?

The golden traces stretch further, now mere centimeters from your reaching hands. Their movement creates visible distortion in the air, like reality itself warping around their influence.

Then—

Something shifts within you.

Not gradual.

Not building.

A sudden quantum change in your neural configuration.

Your cognitive perception splits for exactly 0.7 seconds—awareness operating in multiple states simultaneously.

Tendrils emerge from your own fingertips.

Golden, like his, but fundamentally different. Where his flow like liquid, yours crystallize like faceted gold. Where his move in clockwise patterns, yours rotate counterclockwise.

Opposing rotations.

Perfect complements.

They reach out—not by your conscious command but through some deeper programming—and intertwine with his traces. The contact creates an immediate energy transfer that registers across your neural receptors as both hot and cold simultaneously.

In the space between one heartbeat and the next, the world blurs. Spatial coordinates shift in ways that violate every physical law you've ever studied. Distance compresses, then expands.

You're in his arms.

The transition happens without intermediate steps—one moment falling separately, the next secured against his chest, his left arm wrapped around your waist with exactly 82% more pressure than necessary for stability.

You register multiple data points simultaneously:

- His elevated body temperature: 39.1°C

- His heartbeat: 172 BPM

- His breathing: rapid, shallow, 24 respirations per minute

- His face: positioned 3.4 centimeters from your cheek, over your shoulder

So close. One small movement would bring skin against skin.

Your temporal readings spike at the mere possibility.

Before you can process this new configuration, another force vector impacts you both—lateral trajectory, approximately 93 newtons.

Not from Agent Min.

External source.

Someone else.

Your coupled bodies are propelled sideways at high velocity.

The world blurs again as you and Agent Min, still locked together, phase through what appears to be solid matter.

Glass. Concrete. Steel.

Your molecular structure should be encountering significant resistance, yet moves through these barriers like they're nothing more than projections.

Quantum tunneling? Spatial displacement? Molecular phasing? Your scientific vocabulary struggles to categorize the experience.

Impact comes suddenly—both of you hitting a solid surface at approximately 37% of terminal velocity. The force disperses through your skeletal structure, joints absorbing kinetic energy at efficiency rates that exceed normal human parameters.

You roll, momentum carrying you across hard flooring. Pain signals to your central nervous system—data indicating tissue stress but not structural failure.

When you finally stop, every bone in your body aches with the signature of controlled landing trauma.

Not optimal, certainly not comfortable, but survivable.

Survivable by design.

You inhale sharply—2.1 liters of air in 0.8 seconds—and your eyes search frantically for Agent Min.

Where is he? Was he injured in the landing? Who pushed you? How did you phase through solid matter?

Your golden tendrils have vanished, leaving only lingering warmth on your fingertips where they emerged.

Your watch beeps an unfamiliar pattern: Temporal-spatial variance detected. Recalibration required.

You blink rapidly, visual processing recalibrating as you scan the environment.

Sleek walls. Polished concrete floor.

Location unknown. Sector indeterminate.

Blood drips onto your hand. Your nose is bleeding again—heavier flow than before. Your fingertips come away stained crimson. Your skull throbs in pulses, each one making your vision blur at the edges.

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook, you almost killed them!"

Taehyung's voice cuts through the fog in your head, sharp with that specific tension you've cataloged as his version of concern.

"I was literally on the clock before they became sidewalk art!" Jungkook shoots back, hands gesturing wildly. "Next time maybe give me more than a seven-second window!"

"Seven seconds is generous considering—"

"Generous?" Jungkook's voice cracks slightly. "Try mimicking two completely different abilities at once! My brain feels like it's been microwaved!"

The argument washes over you in waves as you press your palm to your forehead.

The pain isn't unbearable, just... insistent.

Demanding attention like everything else in this mess of a situation.

Your eyes find Agent Min, seated on the floor several meters away. His right hand grips his left shoulder, features tightening in a microexpression of pain he's clearly trying to suppress.

The joint looks wrong—angled slightly off anatomical baseline.

"We don't have fucking time." His voice slices through the bickering, rough-edged and final. "They're onto us."

Jungkook whips around.

“No shit? Why do you think we had to pull this stunt?" His hand sweeps through the air. "We couldn't even reach you with Taehyung's interfacing—you were completely out of range! Thank god Y/N's abilities are something else entirely."

Agent Min's eyes narrow, focusing on Jungkook with an intensity that carries clear warning.

Not a word.

Just that look.

The one that stops conversations dead.

Jungkook registers it immediately, jaw snapping shut, body language shifting from confrontational to compliant in under a second.

Interesting.

They're hiding something about your abilities.

What exactly don't they want you to know?

Taehyung clears his throat—a sound designed to redirect attention.

He points behind him toward what can only be described as a tear in reality itself. A circular formation pulsing with quantum uncertainty, its borders shifting between states of matter in ways that shouldn't be physically possible.

"What about base first, arguing later?" he suggests, voice calm in that way people get when they're trying too hard.

You wipe blood from your upper lip. Your eyes find Agent Min again, seeking his reaction. His gaze meets yours briefly before sliding away, gold still lingering at the edges of his irises.

Why won't he look at you properly?

What does he know that you don't?

"What is that?" The question falls from your lips before you can stop it, analytical systems demanding data despite everything else.

"Travel spot. Portal to headquarters," Taehyung answers, shoulders relaxing slightly at the subject change.

You shift your weight, preparing to stand, when your temporal readings spike without warning. The numbers flash red: 3.17%

That's not good.

"Stabilize her," Agent Min orders, voice clipped. "Temporal cascade imminent."

Jungkook moves fast, crossing the space between you in under a second.

His fingers press against your temporal monitor, executing adjustments with practiced precision.

"Breathing," he instructs, tone sliding into something steadier. "Seven in, seven out. Match me."

The contact triggers something—a flash of memory that doesn't quite feel like yours:

Different hands.

Same words.

"Breathe with me, Noma. Focus."

Pain spikes behind your eyes as incompatible memory patterns try to align. The room tilts slightly.

"What happened up there?" Taehyung asks, attention on Agent Min.

"Temporal ambush," he answers, face tight. "Drones masked behind a reality field."

Taehyung's eyebrows rise. "That's still in R&D."

"Apparently not anymore." Agent Min pushes himself upright, grimacing as his shoulder shifts. "They're adapting faster this time."

This time.

As opposed to when?

"Your tendrils connected with his," Jungkook says quietly as he monitors your readings. "That's what stabilized you both mid-fall."

You blink, memory fragments of golden light intertwining in freefall.

The way your body reacted without conscious direction.

The impossibility of the physics involved.

Agent Min moves toward the portal with measured steps. "We need to move before CHRONOS tracks the spatial distortion."

"She deserves to know what she can do," Jungkook says, voice low but firm.

Agent Min stops, spine stiffening visibly.

“When she's ready."

"And who decides that?" Jungkook challenges, though his hands remain gentle on your monitor. "You?"

The tension between them feels old somehow. Well-worn. Like terrain they've crossed many times.

"Portal stability dropping," Taehyung interrupts, hand cutting through the air. "Either we go now, or we're stuck here."

Agent Min's eyes flick between you and the portal, calculations running visible behind his eyes.

“We are leaving.” He simply mutters, final.

“Of course we are.” Jungkook replies with a hint of something almost like resignation.

Your temporal readings begin to stabilize: 1.47% and decreasing.

Jungkook's hands withdraw from your monitor. "Stable enough for transit."

Agent Min approaches, movements careful despite his obvious discomfort. His right hand extends toward you, gloved palm up.

"The first transit is... disorienting," he says, voice dropping to something softer. "Holding on helps with the spatial realignment."

You stare at his outstretched hand. The leather creases in familiar patterns. The angle of his fingers seems to match your palm perfectly.

‘We're designed to fit.’

His earlier words echo through your mind, connecting dots you didn't even know existed.

"Noma," he says quietly. "Trust me on this one."

The nickname bypasses all your analytical systems, triggering responses you can't explain or quantify.

Your hand moves before your brain fully catches up, fingers sliding into his with strange, impossible familiarity.

Your watch beeps once more: Temporal variance: 0.73%.

Stabilizing.

“Let’s go.”

goal: 275 notes

next | index

— taglist

@cannotalwaysbenight @taevanille @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @ktownshizzle @yoongiiuu93 @billy-jeans23 @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @hobis-sprite0218 @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

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sanjisleggy · 6 months ago

Text

the warlord and his bodyguard (sir crocodile x reader)

req: Could you do a Mihawk or Crocodile x Marine reader. Like it's her job to watch them on missions or be in contact with the Warlords. And whoever you pick fell hard for the Marine but knows he shouldn't. Maybe he flirts with her and she tries to remain professional because she could get fired or way worse. But the man is determined

a/n: aaaa!! this was one of my earliest requests but i held off on writing it since i wasn’t sure if i wanted to write for Mihawk or Crocodile :’) luckily since then i’ve got to meet Crocodile again in the impel down arc so i feel a bit more comfortable trying to write for him :D i tweaked the plot a little to fit the ideas i had so i hope the requester doesn’t mind!

contents: reader is a not a good marine (lol), Crocodile is kinda down bad, pining, reader has devil fruit powers, a somewhat graphic depiction of violence, near-death experience (not violent), some fluff, very little angst

wc. 2.3k

wanna be on my taglist?

“tell me,” the imposing figure says, his voice so deep you swear the ground beneath your feet trembles ever so slightly. “did the World Government send you to mock me?”

Crocodile taps his hook against the surface of his mahogany desk, his heavy-lidded eyes peering sharply at you as he awaits your response. though he may be one of the Seven Warlords, you find it difficult to feel threatened by him, having faced and escaped more dire situations in your past as a cadet. besides, it’s rather rare for your potential cause of death to be so visually appealing.

“i should say no but both of us know that isn’t truly the case.” your response seems to have caught him off guard, his eyes widening ever so slightly. to your surprise, Crocodile follows it up with a smirk, all the while keeping his lit cigar held firmly in between his teeth.

“so what is the reason you’re supposed to tell me?”

as though reciting a script, you share how out of the goodness of the World Government’s hearts, they’ve decided to begin a new initiative to improve relations between the Warlords and the Marines. “thus, every Warlord will be provided with a bodyguard.” you’re unable to hold back the contempt in your tone and Crocodile picks up on it instantly.

“think you’re too good for the job, officer?” he replies in a disinterested manner.

“no, the job’s fine,” you admit, seeing no reason to be dishonest, “i just think they could’ve at least tried to come up with a better lie. i am glad i was assigned to you, though, and not Gecko Moria or Donquixote.” you can’t help but scoff.

the Warlord’s laugh catches you off guard. the fact that the sound alone causes a stirring in your chest alarms you even more.

what an interesting woman you are.

“so what will it take to keep your mouth shut?” Crocodile gets straight to the point, already fully aware of how your daily duties include a report back to headquarters on his activity. in all honesty, he’d meant it partially as a joke or, perhaps, a final attempt at sending you a message: you’re no threat to me.

“i don’t know,” you reply, taking a few steps to get closer to his desk before you lean forward slightly to level your eyes with his, “what’re you willing to offer?”

the Warlord can’t tell if you’re joking–and he’s not sure how he feels about that.

ii.

two months go by and business at Rain Dinners has been the same as always.

contrary to Crocodile’s expectations, your sudden arrival hasn’t impeded his progress on the casino and Baroque Works. his initial concerns over an influx in Marine officers storming Rain Dinners or a Vice Admiral showing up to tear down his secret organisation quickly go unfounded when it dawns on him that you’re truly not interested in taking him down.

if anything, he’s been enjoying your company. you’re an intelligent person whom he’s surprisingly able to have pleasant conversations with. you seem to have a keen sense of perception, knowing when to simply watch events unfold and when to interfere–though the latter instances have been rare considering his status in Alabasta deters trouble-making in his place of business.

after the first few weeks of having you trail behind him everywhere he goes, Crocodile finds himself getting used to being in your company. today, however, marks the first time the Warlord feels a need for something more.

though the Warlord is surrounded by beautiful women all vying for a crumb of his attention–a common occurrence when he makes his occasional appearance at his own casino’s bar–he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if you’re the one sitting beside him instead. not the kind of man to let his imagination run wild, however, he quickly reminds himself that you’re standing a distance away behind him as you always do.

before Crocodile can fully return to enjoying his evening in the presence of the women around him, though, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a familiar sense of danger snaps his attention to the lady on his right side. within the span of a second, he readies himself to activate his devil fruit powers but before he can even fully register what she’s trying to pull, you make your move.

recognising the stained needle held in between the woman’s fingers as being composed of sea prism stone, your body reacts on its own volition.

“shave.”

to nearby onlookers, a blurry figure shoots its way across the room before you reemerge right behind the wannabe-assassin. without any warning, you place your right palm against the back of her head.

“twist.”

with a sickening crunch that reverberates throughout the once bustling casino, the woman’s body from her neck downward begins to turn a full 360 degrees whilst her head remains completely still in the palm of your hand. as her corpse flops to the ground, you hear the combined sounds of onlookers retching and gasping–but no running. the only one seemingly completely unbothered by the cold blooded murder is the assassination target himself.

“i could’ve handled it myself,” Crocodile sighs, puffing a cloud of smoke from his cigar, “though admittedly i am impressed by your efficiency.”

“were you aware the needle was made of sea prism stone?” your question catches him off guard; and he’s only further surprised when you bend down to pick it up from the floor with your bare hand.

“poisoned? i figured,” he admits, “but made of the stone? truth be told i was not aware.” the Warlord’s eyes travel slowly from the tiny needle held in between your fingers up to your face. as expected, you’re affected by the sea prism stone–he can tell from the droopiness of your eyelids and the way you furrow your eyebrows. “i could kill you right now,” Crocodile adds, unable to help his curiosity in what your response might be to such a suggestion.

“feel free,” you reply, a tired smile appearing on your tired face.

“don’t be ridiculous.” he shoots a glance at a random employee and gestures to the corpse. once it’s been taken away, he nods at the now-available seat. “take a seat, drink with me… and throw the needle away.”

iii.

three weeks later, you come storming into Crocodile’s office unannounced. normally he doesn’t tolerate such behaviour–the guest he’d been hosting even flinches outwardly, as though steeling himself to witness your impending death–but once the Warlord’s eyes lay on you, all anger flies out the window.

“why’d you do it?” you ask, clutching a crumpled letter in your hand as you make your way to his desk. with a wave of his hand, he dismisses his guest and remains silent and still until the two of you are left alone in the large room.

now that he’d had some time to take a closer look at you, the expression on your face screams less anger and more confusion–contrary to the way you’d nearly kicked down his door to get in. eyes flickering to the letter in your hand, the familiar material of the paper reminds him of a particular event that happened just a week ago.

“something troubling you, Miss Bodyguard?” the Warlord asked while in the midst of handling a mountain of paperwork.

“my village is in danger,” you’d replied without hesitation, not seeing any need to hide the truth from him–it was a trait he very much appreciated in you. “we used to always get harassed by pirates but lately it’s gotten worse and the berry i send home isn’t enough to keep them away anymore.”

a part of him expected you to drop a subtle plea for help but you never did. once you’d answered his question, you went back to being silent, eyes trained on the crumpled piece of paper held in your trembling hands.

“what’s the name of your village? and on what island?”

“remind me what you’re accusing me of?” Crocodile replies in his usual monotonous tone.

“you sent people to my village,” you say almost breathlessly, unable to help the tears welling up in your eyes as your heart pounds within the confines of your chest. “you’ve been protecting them, haven’t you?”

“yes.”

“why?”

i hated seeing you worry.

“you wouldn’t be a very efficient bodyguard if you’re constantly thinking about your home, would you?”

for a long while, you simply stare at him in silence, your widened eyes glued to his deep-set ones. your gaze is so intense it’s almost as though you’re trying to peer straight into his soul; for a split second, the Warlord wonders if you’ve perhaps passed out while standing up with your eyes open.

“thank you,” you say softly with a smile on your face–the mere sight of which sends what the Warlord thought had been dead and cold in his chest into overdrive. for the first time in years, his heart races not from anger or adrenaline but from something else he’d long forgotten the feeling of.

iv.

four days pass by and Crocodile once again feels a strange sensation in his chest but this time it’s from worry.

within the course of an evening, you’d gone from perfectly healthy to deathly ill. first you’d collapsed after dinner–nearly hitting your head on the cold tiled floor had he not been fast enough to catch you–before a dangerously high fever started to set in. without hesitation, as he carried you to your quarters, the Warlord demanded for the best of Alabasta’s doctors and nurses to make their way over immediately.

now as the moon hangs high in the desert sky, its light shining through your windows just enough to illuminate your room barely, you find yourself accompanied by the Warlord himself. sitting quietly in a chair set beside your bed, you watch him as he reads a folder full of documents, using only the moonlight casting in as his source of light.

you feel terribly hot and extremely cold at the same time as you lay under the weight of your comforter, a wet towel resting on your forehead. your throat feels dry no matter how much water you drink so you’ve long since stopped asking for more–now only drinking when he periodically offers a glass to you.

in your fevered haze, you faintly recall some instances after you’d collapsed: the feeling of strong arms carrying you away, holding you close to a warm chest; the anger in a familiar voice it barked orders at others; the feeling of a large hand caressing your cheek as you laid barely awake.

“she will be okay, thankfully we made it in time to pump all the poison out of her system,” the leading doctor shared with Crocodile outside your bedroom door after a grueling few hours of medical care.

“poison?” the Warlord furrowed his eyebrows.

“yes, Sir Crocodile, we found a large trace of various poisonous substances in her stomach. frankly, she’s lucky to be alive.”

“is my face really that amusing to stare at?” he asks in a tone that lacks any bite as he directs his attention to you.

“you are quite handsome,” you admit with a weak smile. he feels his face warm up and hopes it at least doesn’t show on his skin. “you frown too much, though.”

“oh, really?”

“yeah. especially tonight.” you slowly take in a deep breath only to start coughing uncontrollably when the air gets lodged in your throat. Crocodile responds quickly but without haste, handing you a fresh glass of water as you sit yourself up. you drink it all before continuing to speak. “you’ve been frowning in a sort of angry way ever since the doctors left… what’s wrong?”

the Warlord takes a moment to look at you. there’s a thin sheen of sweat covering your skin and the bags under your eyes look the darkest they’ve ever been since he met you, frankly you look terrible but at least you’re alive. as much as he wants to pretend he doesn’t know why your survival makes him feel so relieved, he’s too smart to be fooled even by himself.

“you nearly died from an assassination attempt.” Crocodile hands you the folder he’d been pouring over while you rested. “i sent my best agents to investigate after the doctors told me you’d been poisoned.”

although your eyes burn with exhaustion, you managed to scan through all the documents with ease. you feel your already-weakened heart twist in a bizarre mixture of sadness, indignation and resignation as you learned the truth of your near-death experience.

“the World Government must’ve thought i was quite the threat to send Cipher Pol 8 after me, huh?” you say, laughing half-heartedly as you hand the folder back to Crocodile. “i guess i must’ve defected without realising.” you speak with an air of nonchalance that piques the man’s interest.

“knowing the World Government, you’ll probably have a bounty on your head once they realise you lived.”

“i know,” you sigh, “the smart thing to do would be to leave Alabasta once i’m all better, don’t you think? i will miss keeping an eye on you, though.” the way you’re looking at him as you wait for his response is strangely playful and he feels the initial pang of disappointment morph instead into a tiny bit of hope.

“join me,” Crocodile says exactly what he knows you want to hear. “i happen to have grown quite fond of being watched by you.” you smile widely and it sends his heart into a fit.

“join Baroque Works?”

“no.” he reaches out to grab your clammy hand, engulfing it with his much larger one; with an uncharacteristic gentleness, the Warlord brings it up to his lips before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “not Baroque Works, join me. stay by my side.”

“i’d like nothing more.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #op x reader #op #fanfic #imagine #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader

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neokamui414 · 8 months ago

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A non-exhaustive list of art, pieces of media, franchises, authors, and thinkers that I really need my fellow Cultsim/BoH/Secret Histories fans to get into and discuss with me and between themselves.

(WARNING A LOT OF THE FOLLOWING RECOMMENDATIONS COME WITH A LIST OF CONTENT WARNINGS AND ARE SOMETIMES CONNECTED TO CONTROVERSIAL ARTISTS AND PUBLIC PERSONS. THIS LIST IS NOT A ENDORSEMENT OF ANY PROBLEMATIC IDEALS OR STATEMENTS MADE BY ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS LIST AND IT IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED THAT ANYONE WHO LOOKS INTO ANY OF THE MENTIONED WORKS OF ART DO THEIR DUE DILIGENCE AND THOROUGHLY CHECKS FOR DISTURBING / TRIGGERING CONTENT AT THEIR OWN VOLITION)

Film Recommendations:

1. Dario Argento's Three Mothers trilogy, especially Suspiria & and especially especially the 2019 remake of Suspiria. Very Dancer DLC-coded, very Sisterhood of the Triple Knot and Thunderskin.

2. The Magic Lantern films of Kenneth Anger, who was a practicing Thelmaite* for many years. Lantern Principal is obviously what comes to mind when you hear of the name of the series and the dreams that were mystical experiences that inspired and were expressed in art, in this case films is very much akin to stuff we see in Cultist Simulator.

(* As shown in later parts of this recommendation list I argue that the games of Weather Factory become even more interesting and artistically impactful if you learn more about late 19th and 20th century occultism and movements like Theosophy and Thelma.)

3. Hereditary and Midsommar are obvious recommendations but even more so I would recommend the original 1970s The Wicker Man. Folk Horror in general is a great source of what the arts of The Bosk would look like in real life. They were definitely worshiping The Low Red Sun on Summer Isle.

4. A Dark Song, a 2016 horror film that actually revolves around the performance of a very famous and important real life occult ritual. I think a lot of the visual imagery in that film can give some inspiration for the kind of Rites our player character in Cultist Simulator is performing.

5. The Lair of The White Worm is a movie loosely based on a Bram Stoker story and is also very much a Gods of Stone overthrown by forces associated with humans raised to Divinity and the powers of the Sun and Apollonian principles type of story. Plus the whole Worm/Wyrms thing going on. I also recommend it because it's one of the more light-hearted and comedic entries on this list and I want some variation in tone. Also its psychedelic visuals compliment a lot of the surrealist elements that are tied to things like the Moth Principal.

6. Black Swan isn't explicitly supernatural but it is very Dancer Coded.

7. The Hellraiser movies, but only the first second, fourth, and the reboot. Leviathan, being associated with pain and pleasure and having the name of a mythical sea monster is probably very similar to whatever the hell The Tide was before The Red Grail vored her. The Cenobites are Long with Grail, Knock, & Forge as their Principals.

8. Pan's Labyrinth, for the Woods and the Bounds appreciators. I also think there is something to be said about the fascist subtext that underlines much of the Edge Principle, especially in The Colonel that can be explored and appreciated in this film and its reckonings with the evils of Spanish fascism.

9. To compliment the recommendation for the Magic Lantern films, also check out the short film The Wormwood Star, you can find it easily on YouTube and it's another piece of art heavily influenced by Thelma and stars Marjorie Cameron who I will talk about more later in this list.

Game Recommendations:

1. Hollow Knight, it might as well be a story set in the era of the Carapace Cross. Sentient bugs, mighty Wyrms and dream gods with the powers of light but not necessarily moral goodness. Even the Void in Hollow Knight, and it's antagonism to The Radiance is very similar to The Nowhere and it's relationship with the established hierarchies in The Mansus.

2. The Silent Hill games, particularly the entries that revolve around The Order; like 1,3, Origins, and Homecoming. Dream worlds, Sun worship, the Dark Feminine and female psychics/mediums with deep associations with blood, birth and menstruation. Valtiel is totally a Name. Even the fog and mist of Silent Hill is giving The Bounds and it's Forge smoke meets Woods darkness type energy.

3. Vampire The Masquerade Bloodlines, it's basically playing a Grail Long.

4. The tabletop games Geist: The Sin Eaters and Wraith: The Oblivion line up really well with the Ghoul / Medium DLC. *

(basically most if not all of the World of Darkness and Chronicles of Darkness tabletop games contain some themes, elements, or bits of World building that should appeal to anyone interested in the games created by Weather Factory)

5. The video games created by Korean studio Project Moon. Lobotomy Corporation has a lot of timers and simulation elements that have many similarities to those found in Cultist Simulator, and as the title implies Liberty of Runia takes place literally in a paranatural library just like Book of Hours even though the game play between the two is very different.

6. Fallen London and it's related media. The reasons why should go without saying. The controversies around AK aside, Echo Bazaar and Secret Histories are blood siblings and I desire more intersection and interaction between the respective fandoms.

7. The Bayonetta games have a surprising amount of real mythological and occult influence in their world building. The Solar Lumens juxtaposed with the Lunar Umbrans definitely has some resonance with Church of The Unconquered Sun and their on again, off again antagonism and allyship with The Sisterhood of The Triple Knot. The Apollonian natured House of the Sun contrasted with the Dionysian Woods & House of the Moo, and the Nowhere being connected to all three but being distinct; is not all together that different from the division of the Bayonetta universe into Inferno, Paradiso, the human world and Purgatorio between all of them.

8. The Shadow Hearts series of JRPGs are a Gothic, urban fantasy, historical fantasy, lovecraftian adventures around late 19th / early 20th century Europe and Asia. It has a lot of comedic elements and its world building and cosmology are not all that similar to the ones in Weather Factory games (barring their shared history as being inspired by Lovecraft). But if you want Lovecraft in video game form without the racism associated with his writings and you found Cultsim/BoH to fill that niche, then I recommend you give these games a try as well.

9. Secret World Legends, a functionally dead MMO but still incredibly fun to play and I think one of the best examples of urban fantasy / soft Lovecraft or post lovecraftian media in existence. Absolutely fantastic & memorable fully voiced NPCs and characters, really intriguing and rich world building and takes on mythology and folklore. Also given that you play as a quasi immortal with a deep association with bees and an ancient techno-organic goddess you're basically a Long.

10. To compliment the Lobotomy Corporation recommendation and the later SCP mention I think it's only natural that I also recommend the urban fantasy games of remedy entertainment like Alan Wake 1 & 2 and Control. Artists channeling / being used by Eldritch Forces in other dimensions and government institutions related to keeping a control on the supernatural are the most obvious similarities to stuff in WF games.

Visual Artists:

1. Francisco Goya, especially his Black Paintings, his insights into the witchcraft and folkloric traditions of the Basque region and elsewhere in the Iberian peninsula should be very appealing to fans of The Twins and The Thunderskin. Plus all of the Catholic imagery brings to mind The Mother of Ants.

2. Austin Osman Spare, Rosaleen Norton, and Marjorie Cameron. All three of these people were heavily influential occultists and illustrators/painters so their work is definitely a great representative example of the kind of occult art that you are making when you Paint in Cultsim.

3. Salvador Dali is also a relatively obvious, but I think very appropriate all the same recommendation. Surrealism is by and large the big big tonal influence on Secret Histories in my opinion. He also did a tarot deck so that brings in the Lucid Tarot connection

4.Erté, absolutely the kind of art and fashion you would find in Cultist Simulator's 1920's. Art Deco for days but also his works in particular show a more flowy and organic influence that we would more stereotypically associate with the Art Nouveau of decades prior.

Comic Books:

1. Alan Moore's run on Swamp Thing and Grant Morrison's run on Animal Man. DC's Red and Green (plus all the other elemental forces) are a deeply underappreciated and underexplored element of the setting, and I think they have a lot of similarities with the Principles we find in Secret Histories.

2. Related to the above, Alan Moore's Promethea and Grant Morrison's The Invisibles for an exploration of 20th and 21st century occultism. Despite the two authors general distaste for each other, their works are often very complimentary.

3. The Hellboy franchise doesn't have a lot of one-to-one parallels with Cultsim & Co. but they draw from the same artistic influences of gothic fiction, weird fiction, mythology and folklore and the occult. So I feel very strongly that fans of one would and should find the other to be enjoyable. Both fandoms need to be more active on this hell site and though there are a handful of quality hidden gems of fanfiction for both franchises I desperately need more people to be writing & reading fan fiction for both. Plus I do strongly believe that Mike Mignola' s art style would really excel at illustrating characters and settings from Secret Histories. His non Hellboy work is also recommended especially the works that fall under his Outervers setting, like Baltimore and Joe Golem.

4. Although I will admit that I am not up to date on it, and that there has been a considerable amount of discourse around the quality of its storytelling (especially within the past few years) I would recommend the webcomic Gunnerkrigg Court to fellow Cultsim fans. Alchemic imagery, interesting reinterpretations of folklore and a setting and tone that is quintessential British urban fantasy / science fiction, Gunnerkrigg is in my opinion a work that has a lot of appeal for fans of WF's games and stories.

5. Lackadaisy Cats is an awesome Webcomic and animated web series. 1920s/ 30s gangsters and bootleggers in the form of anthropomorphic cats! And absolutely beautiful Art Deco illustrations! What's not to love.........

Anime & Manga:

1. Any of the anime directed by Ryūtarō Nakamura especially Serial Experiments Lain and Ghost Hound(this one is seriously underrated in my opinion.) Surrealism is the name of the game as I've said earlier.

2. Le Chevalier D'Eon, both it's manga and anime even though the two are very totally different and have divergent takes on a similar premise. Historical fiction that reinterprets 18th century historical events through an occult lens is so very very Secret Histories. Plus both works have interesting explorations of gender and the nature thereof. It helps that as far as we know the French monarchy's Secret Histories equivalent are associated with the Hours, my personal headcanon is that Louis XIV was Lantern Principal aligned, and Louie XVI had Knock as his Principal. Also the manga version of the story has a lot of its magic system based around the Tarot.

3. You can't recommend D'Eon without recommending it's biggest inspiration (apart from Rose of Versailles of course) and that would be Revolutionary Girl Utena. Edge Dyads for days with that one. Utena and Anthy are totally The Twins. And the whole show and it's movie are full of surrealist pseudo occult imagery practically to the bursting.

4. Baccano! , a light novel / anime series that's about a bunch of immortal Mobsters in the 1920s and 30s. I mean that's basically The Exile DLC right there.

5. xxxHolic and Legal Drug / Drug & Drop, by CLAMP. A shop that grants wishes and a pharmacy that handles the paranormal are both the kind of businesses that I could see existing alongside Morland's, Oriflamme's Auction House & The Ecdysis Club. Plus both manga are hella gay and I will push my Weather Factory games are inherently Queer pieces of media agenda till the day I die.

Theater, Operas, Music and Albums:

1. Jimmy Page's unused soundtrack for Kenneth Anger's Lucifer Raising. Definition of Occult rock and role.

2. Kiki Rockwell, especially her two most recent albums Rituals on the Bank of a Familiar River, and Eldest Daughter of an Eldest Daughter.

3. Stravinsky's Rite of Spring might just be the closest we will ever get in real life to an occult ritual in the form of an entire ballet like we see in Cultist Simulator and Book of Hours. Definitely a skill that could fall under the Wisdoms of Birdsong and The Bosk.

4. On that note, Mozart's Die Zauberflöte is also full of Hermetic Elements, Lunar / Solar antagonism, mystical initiation and ritual deity impersonation. Mozart was a Freemason so the fanfic of him as a Heart Adapt practically writes itself.

Literally Fiction:

1. The webnovels Pact and Pale by wildbow. A magic system that revolves around incredibly hierarchical relationships between humans and mystical beings, where magic fundamentally requires discarding one's humanity and transforming into some kind of mystical being yourself is very similar to the Adapt to Long pipeline we follow in Cultist Simulator.

2. The Rivers of London series is one that I'm still familiarizing myself with but it's another example of wonderful British urban fantasy (that isn't the wizard books that shall not be named) The fact that the main characters of the series are magic police officers gives it a certain Suppression Bureau appeal.

Nonfiction- Philosophy and Occult works and Authors:

1. Georges Bataille!!!!!!!! If you only pick one thing from this list to investigate further let it be the philosophical works of this man. His theory of religion as it relates to concepts such as economy, sacrifice, and eroticism you literally completely change how you understand The Hours and The House Without Wall.

2. Aleister Crowley, and any of his students, especially Kenneth Grant. He really is the quintessential modern English occultist, whether or not AK and Lottie intended it, the DNA of his beliefs or those of his Golden Dawn contemporaries, or his students is all over Cultsim and BoH. The Red Grail is like, so blatantly Babalon it's kind of ridiculous.

3. The Book of English Magic by Phillip Carr- Gomm & Richard Heygate, is a good introductory source of information on the history of magical practice and occultism on the British isles.

4. Occult Paris by Tobias Churton is a fascinating insight into some of the mystical practices that were en vogue in Europe just a few decades prior to when Cultist Simulator takes place.

5. Atlas of Cursed Places by Oliver Le Carrer. I could totally see some of the places documented in this book as being locations you could send your Followers to in Cultsim.

6. Please read everything you can that is academically critical about Greek magical Papyri. There are tons of resources for reading translations and analysis of these documents that are some of the most foundational examples of what real historical magical belief and practice actually looked like.

Web Original Content, Podcasts, YouTube Channels and Tiktok Recommendations:

1. Greedy Peasant over on Instagram and tik tok does fascinating content related to Catholicism, medieval history and art, and other related topics. If you like all of the interesting reinterpretations of Christian religious iconography into sun worship that happens in Book of Hours I highly recommend his content.

2. The last few years have really seen an incredible ecosystem of academic scholarship on religion, mythology, occultism and esoteric philosophy develop on YouTube. Channels like Esoterica, Angela's Symposium, Let's Talk Religion, Religion for Breakfast, Jackson Crawford, The Modern Hermeticist, The Archaeology of Ancient Magic, and others are just overflowing gold mines of accessible and easily digestible but still academically critical and pseudoscience and conspiracy theory free information about mysticism historical occultism and esoteric religion and mythology.

3. There are also a number of great YouTube channels that aren't academically critical but are run by actual practicing witches and occultists and they offer fascinating and interesting insights into these same topics but from a lived more personal perspective which is just as important I think to learn about as the academically critical sources. Great channels include Benbell Wen, Maevius Lynn, Marco Visconti, & Nordic Animism.

4. In terms of fictional internet media, SCP is so broad that there's a lot of stuff that is completely different in appeal from what is enjoyable about Secret Histories, but there's also so much overlap. I need crossover fanfics and fan art more than air!!!!!

5. Lastly this is a fiction podcast so it's a little incongruous with the other nearby recommendations but, I cannot stress enough......... The Mangus Archives and Magnus Protocol!!!!!!!!!!!!! There are a lot of key differences between those two podcasts and Weather Factory games, but there are so many similarities that I have to write an entire three other posts about how similar the settings are and how I want to write a crossover/ fusion fic. I've seen like, one or two pieces of fan art and fanfiction that was related to both series but in my humble opinion it's not nearly enough. I really really really really really need Cultsim fans to talk more about Magnus and I need Magnus listeners to play these games soooooooo badly!!!!!!!!!!

Well that mostly concludes this piece of propaganda for the time being, will probably make another post with further additions in the not so distant future. Feel free to reblog this with any other pieces of media that you think would also be appealing to fans of Cultist Simulator and Book of Hours.

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simmingsamantha · 4 months ago

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LIKE NIGHT AND DAY: A TS3 LEGACY CHALLENGE

Hello y’all! I am back with a different sort of legacy challenge compared to my usual nostalgic-ish challenges. This legacy is eight generations, each based upon a specific time of day, from midnight to nighttime. I tried to add both good and bad traits to the sims for some unique and interesting gameplay. I’ve also added sims badges that are entirely optional to complete for each gen (I just like collecting badges myself lol). Each generation has a unique color palette that you can follow if you want. The google doc even has images of the palettes for visualization. I highly recommend checking out the google doc for better formatting on desktop, too. You'll need most EPs (except maybe Into the Future). Store content is referenced, but none of it is necessary. If you have any questions or comments, don’t hesitate to reach out. Hope y’all enjoy this challenge!

Tag: #lnad3 or @simmingsamantha on tumblr

Click for the google doc: xxx

Generation 1: MIDNIGHT - BURNING THAT MIDNIGHT OIL

Midnight marks the beginning and ending of each day. It is the transition time from one day to the next. It is a symbol of new beginnings, potential, self-reflection, secrets, the unknown and transformation.

Traits: Commitment Issues. Dramatic/Diva, Natural Born Performer, Neurotic, Star Quality Career: Acrobat/Magician/Singer Lifetime Wish: Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous Lifetime Rewards: Engaging, The Hustler, Watering Hole Regular Aesthetic Colors: Black, White and Gold

Goals:

Max the mixology and dancing/club dancing skills.

Additionally, max two of the following hidden skills: dominoes, pool, dartboard or shuffleboard.

Win a Simfest

Never go to bed at a decent time/have an atrocious sleep schedule

Become publicly disgraced

Either sue for slander, pay off the paparazzi or deflect scandal onto other celebrities

Live in a penthouse or luxury apartment once you begin to make money and gain fame

Live in a city-esque world

Hire a butler

Rely on your butler to take care of your children's needs

If you have the playpen and walker, use those to teach your child to walk and talk.

Befriend a vampire

Marry a celebrity that is a higher level than you

Collect the Lounge Lizard/Cranstan Boonitz and Blingaboo gnomes

Earn $20000 in tips from your chosen Showtime career (sim badge)

Perform in each venue type at least once

Have one biological child and adopt another child

Generation 2: THE WITCHING HOUR - THE WITCHING HOUR IS AT HAND

The witching hour is a time of night associated with supernatural events as well as the appearance and amplification of power of witches, ghosts and demons. Tends to include the time between 3AM and 4AM.

Traits: Brooding, Heavy Sleeper, Loner, Mean-Spirited, Supernatural Fan Career: Fortune Teller or Ghost Hunter Lifetime Wish: Zombie Master Lifetime Rewards: Alpha Wolf/Immortal/Magic Hands Aesthetic Colors: Purple, Black and Grey

Goals:

Max the logic and alchemy skills

Become a “creature of the night”: a witch, werewolf or vampire

If a witch, max your spellcasting/magic skill and duel at least 5 other witches

If a werewolf, max your lycanthropy skill and form a pack of at least two other sims on the full moon

If a vampire, turn at least three other sims and make ten sims “think of you”

As a teen, join the mausoleum clerk part-time job or join the debate team after-school activity

Own a black cat

Go all out for Spooky Day

Collect all five colors of Gnomes of the Darned

Bind the Malleable Mimic Voodoo Doll to another sim

Learn all spells from Lady Ravendancer Goth's Book o' Spells (regardless of occult type)

Learn all potions from Lord Vlaimir’s Magic Cauldron

Complete the Celestial Explorer logic skill challenge

Discover 25 stars for the Master Astronomer sim badge

Marry another supernatural, preferably another “creature of the night”

Buy a Bonehilda coffin

Befriend the Grim Reaper

Buy the Philosopher’s Stone and Flying Vacuum lifetime rewards

Have twins (one of which is the heir). Roll a d4 die to determine how many other kids you’ll have.

Generation 3: DAWN - AT THE CRACK OF DAWN

Dawn marks the beginning of twilight before sunrise as indirect sunlight is scattered throughout Earth’s atmosphere. Dawn is associated with illumination, hope and happiness.

Traits: Angler, Eco-Friendly, Hopeless Romantic, Loves the Outdoors, Technophobe Career: Angler or Gardener (Self-Employed) Lifetime Wish: Bottomless Nectar Cellar Lifetime Rewards: Super Green Thumb Aesthetic Colors: Light Pink, Light Orange, Light Blue

Goals:

Be a twin; live with your twin for your entire life (Dusk).

Dusk is your polar opposite. For most of your life, you two hate each other. Reconcile only as elders.

Max the nectar making, fishing, and gardening skills

Harvest 100 Perfect harvestables (sim badge)

Live on a farm

Have chickens and cows if you have the store content

Own a Cowplant - be sure to feed it!

Complete the Uncommonly Good, Outstandingly Rare and Omnificent Plant opportunities

Grow a money tree and life fruit

Own and use Grandma’s canning station

Join the Scouting after-school activity as a child and teen

As a teen or young adult, visit Champs Les Sims (where you discover your love for nectar making)

Complete the Flavorful Feet and Master of Nectar Making skill challenges

Complete the Ameatuer Ichthyologist fishing skill challenge

Have a big family (at least four kids)

Marry your first romantic interest in your young adult lifestage

Generation 4: MORNING - GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE

Morning is the period from sunrise until noon, and is associated with breakfast, the start of a new day, and fresh starts.

Traits: Ambitious, Disciplined, Friendly, Good, Proper Career: Business or Military Lifetime Wish: Martial Arts Master or Physical Perfection Lifetime Rewards: Meditative Trance Sleep, Extra Creative Aesthetic Colors: Beige, Light Yellow, and Peach

Goals:

Max the photography, athletic and martial arts skills

Complete three photography collections

Reach martial arts tournament level 3 regardless of lifetime wish chosen

Try to jog or bike everywhere

For an extra challenge/sim badge, jog 2000 kilometres or perform 200 hours of cardio workouts

Only eat breakfast-type foods

Own a pet bird

Get cheated on after getting married to a co-worker

Join the spa receptionist or spa specialist part-time job as a teen

Have a massage table and wind chimes on your lot

Collect all butterflies (excluding the ones you need to travel for)

Generation 5: NOON - THE MOMENT OF TRUTH HAS ARRIVED, IT’S HIGH NOON

Noon is the time when the Sun reaches its apparent highest point in the sky. Noon is a time of productivity, of nourishment and of clarity and enlightenment.

Traits: Charismatic, Hot-Headed, Loves the Heat, Natural Cook, Workaholic Career: Culinary Lifetime Wish: Blog Artist Lifetime Rewards: Fireproof Homestead, Born to Cook Aesthetic Colors: Shades of Yellow

Goals:

Max the cooking, artisan and social networking skills

Have a pet lizard

Join the Drama after-school activity as a teen

Have at least three best friends

Meet with your friend/s at least once a week

Complete the Blog Baron social networking skill challenge

Complete the Star Chef cooking skill challenge

Use the SimFinder App to find your partner

Get into a fight with another Sim once a season

Have a distant relationship with your child/ren due to your workaholic and hot-headed tendencies.

Prepare 200 perfect meals OR Prepare 3 Perfect meals of the following: Grilled Cheese, Hamburger, Stuffed Turkey, Goopy Carbonara, Tri-Tip Steak, and Stu Surprise for an extra challenge (and sim badge)

Make angel food cake and experience the “warm fuzzies” moodlet

Generation 6: AFTERNOON - DOG DAY AFTERNOON

Afternoon is the time between noon and sunset. It is associated with a dip in human cognitive and productive functioning, leisure activities, and the end of the workday.

Traits: Absent-Minded, Slob, Nurturing, Mooch, Unlucky Career: Education Lifetime Wish: Master of the Arts Lifetime Rewards: Professional Slacker, Vacationer Aesthetic Colors: Turquoise, Pale Yellow and Dark Yellow

Goals:

Max the painting and guitar skills

No skill challenges this gen unless you want to

Adopt a dog

Have your dog max the hunting skill but do not train them yourself

Join the Art after school activity as a teen

Never clean up after yourself - hire a maid if it gets real bad

Limit your physical activity (it’s too hot for that)

Celebrate Leisure Day

Live in a sunny climate world

Own and use the store tea set

Get suntanned at least once

Host a “game night” (play games like dominoes or gnubb, stuff like that) every week with your family

Enjoy a picnic and/or beach day with the family occasionally

Have as many kids as you want. Teach them to walk and talk using the walker and the playpen. Only actively teach them to potty.

Generation 7: EVENING - THE EVENING OF LIFE

Evening is the period of a day that begins at the end of daylight and overlaps with the beginning of night, indicating the time where the sun is close to the horizon. It is the quiet, winding-down, ending part of a day.

Traits: Couch Potato, Night Owl, Bookworm, Virtuoso, Shy Career: Journalism Lifetime Wish: Professional Author Lifetime Rewards: Acclaimed Author, Observant Aesthetic Colors: Dark Orange, Darker Purples and Magnetas

Goals:

Max the violin, piano and writing skills

Join the Newspaper after school activity as a teen

Have only one friend during childhood, and end up marrying them

Grow old with your partner

Complete the Speed or Prolific Writer writing skill challenges

Complete the Librophile sim badge (read 60 unique books)

Complete the Master of the Literary Arts badge (write 2 Sci-fi, Drama, Humor, Mystery, Romance and Vaudeville novels in that order)

For an extra challenge, write 80 total novels (sim badge)

Be more of a homebody sim

However, you should go out on the town once a week with your partner to see a movie or something like that. Something chill.

Complete the Master Pianist skill challenge

Watch at least one Symphony

Stay up late writing your novels and articles for work more often than not

Generation 8: NIGHT - THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT

Night is the period of darkness when the Sun is below the horizon. Historically, night has been a time of increased danger and insecurity. Artificial lighting increased the range of socially acceptable leisure activities during the nighttime and introduced nightlife as a significant part of urban culture.

Traits: Rebellious, Evil, Kleptomaniac, Party Animal, Genius Career: Medical then Criminal Lifetime Wish: Possession is Nine Tenths of the Law Lifetime Rewards: Legendary Host, Inappropriate but in a Good Way Aesthetic Colors: Dark and Navy Blues

Goals:

Max the street art, science and drum skills

Own a pet rodent (even better if they’re a rat)

As a teen, prank the school and as many plumbing appliances as you can find

Barely graduate high school; never do your homework

If the opportunity presents itself, throw a teen party while the parent/s are away

Get kicked out of your household due to your teenage antics

Go to University for a degree (preferably the Science and Medicine major, as that’s your first career).

Support yourself in college by playing for tips on the drums and Day Jobs

Spend most of your time in Uni juiced and partying but manage to get at least a C

Complete 10 Day Job or Dare opportunities (sim badge)

Try every herb and coffee bean at least once (sim badge)

Get to at least level 5 of Nerd and Rebel influence

Join the Medical career after college for the money but get fired for missing too much work

Join the Criminal career (either branch) after you get fired

Steal every time you leave your home lot

Throw parties for every holiday

Complete the Always Wanted street art skill challenge

Befriend a raccoon

Have kids or don’t: it’s the end of the legacy! Will you let the legacy be tarnished by the Night sim or will they turn their life around? It’s up to you!

#ts3 #ts3 legacy #ts3 challenge #ts3 legacy challenge #lnad3

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minimujina · 8 months ago

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in pursuit of truth and companionship

xiangli yao is a smart, smart man. he has done a lot of growing and maturing in the course of his life, but not so much at once as he did when he met one particular person. see, something he has parsed out for himself is that he need not sever his pursuit of truth from the companionship of others—though it took much more than just personal intuition to learn that lesson.

it started with the old friend of yao’s youth, who, though he is long gone, has left perhaps the deepest impact on the man’s heart. the rover, then, ignited a particular warmth in him which soothed the leftover ache—it was comforting, all-encompassing affection that opened his heart to the kind of companionship he longed for. it was pleasant. yao looked at himself and saw not just an academic, but a human amongst other humans; he felt his heart beating in sync with the rover’s, with mortefi’s, with baizhi’s, with zhezhi’s. he realized he did not want to live in neglect of the softness that he inevitably possessed; he believed there must be a way to both pursue the truth of the world—finding groundbreaking solutions and engineering new technologies to sustain civilization—and also leave room for other people in his heart. there had to be a way. without connection to humanity, scientists would risk losing sight of the real goal.

you offered yao an apple; he declined with a reserved smile. you shrugged and bit into the sweet fruit yourself, humming in delight, swaying your feet, resting your head on xiangli yao’s shoulder. it was quiet, it was good. despite it all—the lament, the imminent destruction of human civilization—somewhere, birds were singing and bugs were thriving; the grass was green under your picnic blanket, and you sat beneath a healthy tree next to someone with whom near anything could be enjoyed. meanwhile, xiangli yao tuned in to the crunch of the apple as you bit into it, and he visualized the waves in the air, visualized your humming and the shuffling rustling bustling of your clothes and the grass and the leaves. the world, in his eyes, seemed so much more alive in your presence.

you were no resonator, but yao liked to imagine you must emit some kind of special frequency. you were too good, too pure. he could see it in his imagination when he looked at you—like an angelic halo of light, enveloping your form with the delicate hand of some otherworldly, divine power. you may not resonate the same way he does, no, but yao was certain that your very existence harmonized with the ebb and flow of solaris iii’s vibrations.

with locked pinkies, yao and his muse sat in silence, savoring the peace and contentment derived from the presence of another soul so alike in nature. it was quiet love, unassuming, forgiving, patient; you were all small smiles and gentle touches, and he was all the same.

yao liked to tie your shoes for you, since you had a lazy streak; as it turns out, carelessly throwing shoestrings into a loose knot is not enough to make it through the day, but you could not be bothered. so it was becoming a challenge for him to tie them in such a way that your rowdiness could not undo the work. and, say, perhaps you had schemed the lazy shoe-tying, so that he would develop such an intimate and domestic habit—but ah, well, some secrets are best kept as they are.

you liked to bring him lunch—for xiangli yao, the man that he was, had a horrible habit of forgetting to eat. with a blindness to time, poor interoceptive awareness, and the pinpoint focus of a laser, he hardly noticed when he grew hungry in the midst of his work; it was like his body was completely incognizant of its own needs. so you took it upon yourself to check in at lunchtime, very forcefully “suggesting” that he eat. as a result, his coworkers had grown very fond of you in all the time you spent around them.

and truly, there were none so taken with xiangli yao as you—his other half, as he liked to call you. he possessed a certain charm, and anyone who met the man could attest to his humble smile and quiet strength, those qualities that drew people in much more than he realized. but none were so fortunate as you to wake up every day and melt over the man all over again. internally, you could not fathom his existence, could not process his love for you, could not cope with the fact that you belonged to each other. all you could do was trace the lines of his handsome face with your hands, studying each groove and blemish, burning the image of his smile into your retinas so you may never part from the warmth you felt upon seeing it. to be away from him felt almost painful at times, if only because his presence alone was soothing and regulating, and perhaps you’d gotten too used to the privilege. he enjoyed teasing you about that, too.

if anything, xiangli yao has found that deep human connection can only serve to further motivate him in his search for truth, certainly not to hold him back, as he previously feared.

with his abilities, he had felt a sense of duty from a young age to put himself to work, to be a leader among the brilliant minds at the forefront of science. he could not be distracted, he could not let anything hinder his progress. he felt he would somewhat fail humanity otherwise—much too big a burden for just one man to bear.

all this time, that fear has clashed with something deep inside of him that could not shake the desire for companionship. he practically tore himself into shreds, afraid it would disservice the progress of humanity for him to do anything other than put his brain to work. but at the same time, his heart was so soft, and he longed so inexplicably much for someone to just see him.

and then, just like that, yao’s innermost wish had been granted. the war waging in his mind, body, and soul finally came to a standstill—he made friends, and he felt wanted for something other than his abilities. he had not felt such a feeling since his youth.

further, he found that having dear companions boosted his mood and health, which in turn benefitted his research. he could no longer remember why he had always believed so adamantly that relationships were distractions, and something to be feared. perhaps it was an idea he gleaned from his father, whether intentional from the man or not.

as it turns out, some of the most profound truths can be found within the human soul. xiangli yao has discovered this to be true just knowing you; he has found it to be true in the crevices of your palm, in the wrinkles of your skin, in the color of your eyes. he has come to know so much more about the world since knowing you. and he finds himself all the more eager to search for answers, knowing he has someone so dear to love and protect in this world.

#xiangli yao x reader #ish drabble i kinda have proofread because i wrote it in pieces but not rly cause its not meant to be much #fighting against myself to jsut post it instead of sitting on it for months👋#kinda also serves as a character analysis as i try to understand him #i hope it is not too far off #mujimade #xiangli yao #yao x reader #xiangli yao wuwa #wuwa #wuthering waves #wuwa x reader

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madraynesims · 11 months ago

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The Sims 2 PSP Cut Content: Part 1

I had been looking for the best way to implement this info on the Sims Wiki (but these are cut Sims, so there's not really a place for them? Or maybe someone else can do it). I've also been working on some videos talking about them. (I love watching these types of videos and prefer that visual format) but at this rate who knows when I'll finish it. So here we go! If you love Strangetown and crave any ounce of lore that you can get like me, here's a few townies. They even have their own secrets! Please read p6tgel's post to get all the info about the cut character TA7, everything I know about him is over there, so I don't have anything to add here. All I'm going to say is... I remember wanting to find out so badly who Mister Smith's friend was after playing The Sims 2 PSP for the first time. I'm so glad they actually did add more to the story. Learning more about the alien society and getting another title (like Pollination Technicians) just makes me want a Sixam neighborhood even more lol go read about it!!

Missing Kine Society Cult Members

Tunak Tun

Tunak is the only cut character that I could find photo evidence of in an old screenshot. He is a cut Kine Leader (like Sara Starr), as seen in his brown robe talking to Bull Dratch. The schedule file for the Kine Dairy indicates that Tunak would have spawned only during the day.

Unfortunately, it's a view of his back, but his character file confirms this appearance. (just want to say... the details on the Kine robes are actually beautiful. The crunched down quality we got in the final release makes them look like rags) Gender: 0 = female, 1 = male. The eye color is only specified if they're not the default brown. (I'll be using the Sims 2 PC to recreate them, as it shares a lot of assets with the PSP version)

Tunak Tun's Details

Bio: "A member of the Kine Society." social = 7, intimidation = 1, personality = 1, His social and intimidation scores are on the lower end for Deadtree locals, so social games aren't as difficult. He has the Air personality type. His topic sets (interests) are cow, cow milk, cow bell, cow beast, full moon, and crystal ball. A visual of these:

Tunak Tun's Secrets

(Personal): "Has been known to sneak in a burger or two on the sly."

(Intimate): "Likes to wear loose robes for that 'fresh and ventilated' feeling."

(Dark): "He actually just made up his other two Secrets. He's a pathological liar."

According to the game code, Tunak Tun would also count towards the goal to "Earn the Trust of a Kine Leader [Relationship 4]", just like Sara Starr and Sinjin Balani.

Zen Mu

Zen Mu is regular Kine Society member that wears a white robe. The schedule file for the Kine Dairy indicates that Zen would have spawned only during the night.

I went through every face template available in the Sims 2 PSP CAS and I can't find Zen Mu's (might be hidden like some hairs/clothes are) and I don't see the stubble hair in the PC version.

Zen Mu's Details

Bio: "A member of the Kine Society." social = 7, intimidation = 1, personality = 2, Their social and intimidation scores are on the lower end for Deadtree locals, so social games aren't as difficult. They have the Water personality type. Their topic sets (interests) are cow, cow milk, cow bell, and cow beast. A visual of these:

Zen Mu's Secrets

(Personal): "Severe lactose intolerance has made her unpopular in the Kine Society."

(Intimate): "She is deathly afraid of cows, but don't let the cows find out … they thrive on fear."

(Dark): "When she meditates, her power animal is a horse … the highest form of Kine blasphemy."

Interestingly, Zen Mu's gender and character model is male, but all 3 of Zen's secrets uses she/her pronouns. Small fun fact - Personal Kine robe for the player: It looks like we would have received our own kine robe at one point, probably after passing inspection, according to the item list file (item 72). Now, we can just go to a wardrobe and buy a robe ourselves.

Extra fun fact that I randomly like to talk about on my twitch streams, but I don't remember if I've said it over here? These two award winning cows were actually given names by the devs in the Kine Dairy level spawning file. Bessie and Gertie! <3

#sims #sims 2 #sims 2 psp #sims spin offs #ts2 #ts2 psp #strangetown #love the tiny little details

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glowettee · 6 months ago

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡rewiring your subconscious: guide to becoming your dreamiest self ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

hey loves, it's your girl mindy here from glowettee, and today i wanted to get a little deep with you all about something that's been swirling around in my head lately. ✨

i wanted to talk about how our minds work and how we can actually use this knowledge to become our dreamiest selves.

you know how sometimes you catch yourself doing something without even thinking about it? like reaching for your phone first thing in the morning or automatically making your coffee the exact same way every day?

that's your subconscious mind running the show, and honestly? she's kind of amazing at what she does. think of your mind like this gorgeous vintage house (very dark academia aesthetic, if you will).

your conscious mind is like the cozy living room where you actively think and make decisions. but then there's this massive secret garden - that's your subconscious, and it's where all the real magic happens. it's storing everything you've ever experienced, every little habit you've formed, and all those beliefs you've collected over the years.

what's really fascinating is how these two parts of our mind are always in this delicate dance together. your conscious mind might be like "okay bestie, we're going to start this new healthy habit today!" but if your subconscious isn't convinced, it's going to be giving major resistance energy. and that's totally okay - we just need to learn how to work with it instead of against it.

i've been experimenting with some gentle ways to align these two parts of myself, and i want to share them with you alll!!!. when i'm lying in bed at night, just before sleep (you know, that dreamy state where everything feels soft and possible), i like to visualize myself as the person i'm becoming. not in a pressure way, but in this sweet, loving way - like i'm already that girl who has her life together and radiates main character energy. (lots of loa vibes here, iyk what i mean)

something else i've noticed is how our subconscious picks up on literally everything around us. it's like this super sensitive film that's constantly recording - the music we listen to, the content we consume, the energy of the people around us. so i've started being more intentional about what i let into my space.

if something doesn't feel aligned with who i want to become, i gently let it go. speaking of letting go, can we talk about how powerful it is to speak to ourselves with kindness? your subconscious is always listening, always taking notes. so when i catch myself being harsh, i pause and rephrase things like i'm talking to my bestie. it's giving major self-love energy and honestly? it works.

the key to working with your subconscious is consistency and patience. it's like tending to a garden - you can't expect roses to bloom overnight, but with gentle, consistent care, they'll flourish. so instead of trying to force massive changes, i'm learning to make small, sustainable shifts.

it's about creating new patterns that feel natural and aligned. remember loves, changing yourself isn't about fighting who you are - it's about nurturing yourself into bloom. it's this beautiful dance between your conscious desires and your subconscious patterns.

when they start working together? that's when everything starts feeling effortless and dreamy.

sending you all the softest, most gentle energy!! love u all - mindy

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shadowgast-recs-weekly · 8 months ago

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Cultural Differences: A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have cultural differences! Check under the cut for 10 fics that explore the differences in Caleb and Essek's cultures and how it affects their relationship, and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!

Courting of the Caleb by VexedVixen (6884, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, Choose Not to Warn

Beau realizes Essek is courting Caleb before Caleb does.

Reccer says: Good world building, it’s cute, and plenty of both Caleb and Essek being flustered!

The Secret Romance of Essek Thelyss by Cardinal_Daughter (18629, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

All Essek wants is to celebrate his and Caleb's anniversary and present him with a very special gift. Naturally, nothing goes quite as planned.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Double Dip by Defiler_Wyrm (622, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb’s Empire table manners threaten to ruin a perfectly pleasant dinner. (He’s going to get away with it, the little shit.)

Reccer says: Just a saucy little slice of life, pun intended.

Fine Things by Defiler_Wyrm (1296, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek is accustomed to luxury on a scale that Caleb finds baffling and troublesome. Sometimes, though, he has a point.

Reccer says: This is a fic about culture clash in terms of class, and about poverty trauma, handled gently. I tend to think that the class disparity between Caleb and Essek must be a touchier thing to navigate than the broader Empire vs. Dynasty ones, and that's exactly what this fic is about.

Love Letters to be Tossed in the Fire by Anonymous (61367, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek get to know each other through a series of letters

Reccer says: This fic is creatively and beautifully written. I love the different ways the letters are sent. The two wizards learn about each other and their different cultures through the course of this fic, especially at the end.

Loose Translation by owlaholic68 (58379, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Due to an incredible comedy of errors on the part of the Cerberus Assembly, what is thought to be a pesky bureaucratic for one meddlesome Caleb Widogast, turns out to be a powerful political alliance and symbol of peace and unity between the Dynasty and Empire… through the marriage of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss and Caleb Widogast. Canon compliant until episode 141.

Reccer says: This is one of my all time favorite fics! The author does an incredible job at writing the political intrigue, manages a beautiful balance of the fluffiest fluff you could ever imagine with an undercurrent of yearning and angsty misunderstanding, all the while exploring the worldbuilding of the Kryn Dynasty in a way that is soso tasty. Truly, this is an addicting read that had me screaming, kicking my feet, and hyping up the characters to “go get his ass!!” all throughout.

Love in Creation by LuckyOwlsFoot (1662, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb watches Essek work, and learns a little about the role of lace making to the Kryn dens.

Reccer says: The author does a great job at describing the physical motions of tatting, I felt like I could see it and understand what was happening despite have very little understanding of the craft- this really added to the visuals of the fic.

The following three fics each received two recs!

of blossoming hearts and glittering souls by quinn_of_aebradore (77995, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb and Essek realize they've caught the Feelings, and try to figure out how to propose to each other, with each other's different cultural customs

Reccer 1 says: It's so soft and sweet, it's a lovely read <3 Reccer 2 says: This fic is so sweet. It's so sweet. It pulls no punches when it comes to expressing emotion and revolves around the entire proposal, engagement, and marriage/lovebinding procedures with such depth and care. Read it and weep (the happiest of tears)!

but i didn’t do it right, can i try again, and again? by queenbeetle (53385, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

An already together Caleb and Essek play at Dynasty courting rituals, but they keep their hands off each other long enough to play the game?

Reccer 1 says: I’m gonna be so straight forward this fic is SUPER hot. There is a phenomenal scene with gloves, and I will say nothing more. I really enjoy the cultural differences as seen through courting thing, especially when theres some misunderstandings about the levels of intimacy something might imply sprinkled in- and this definitely has that! Reccer 2 says: It has a delightful build up with a very rewarding and steamy pay off!

Indecency by RainyDayDecaf (5898, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence, The fic is tagged with graphic depictions of violence, the scene written is about canon typical levels of violence

The many times Essek and Caleb accidentally court one another by Kryn or Blumenthal traditions and when they finally do it on purpose!

Reccer 1 says: Not only is it very cute, the world building is also very smart. The Blumenthal traditions that are made up by the author feel very in the spirit of what would be considered romantic to the way Caleb grew up. They clearly took time to flesh out his background and folk traditions just as much as they do Essek’s high class courting etiquette, which is a true treat! Reccer 2 says: It's wonderfully written and descriptive! Also just very funny and sweet with lots of good pining.

Want more fics that explore cultural differerences? Check out our previous rec list on this subject!

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation.

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring getting nerdy about magic! Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #critical role fan fiction #cr fic #cr fics

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magicalwarriordiamondheart · 2 years ago

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youtube

Welcome to the official Tumblr for Magical Warrior Diamond Heart! 💖

Valerie Amaranth, an ordinary 16 year old, has her world changed forever when she receives the power to transform into a magical girl: The legendary Crystal Warrior, Diamond Heart! Now with the help of Diana, she must find her allies, defeat the Nightmare Agency, and rescue the missing princess, Rosalia! Magical Warrior Diamond Heart is an otome visual novel inspired by magical girl anime. Play as Valerie and decide the fate of the world, eat delicious donuts, and even smooch lots of cuties! Will Val defeat the Nightmares, make new friends, and find love? Or will she meet her tragic end?

✨ Available for PC, Mac, Linux, and Android devices ✨

💖Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Magical Girl, Comedy, Drama, Action

💖Rating: 16+ for Violence, blood, body horror, drug reference, language, and crude humor. Click here for a more detailed content warning list.

The free-to-play version of the game will have

FOUR adorable and distinct characters to smooch (Sophie, Ethan, Zacharie, and Opal)

A friendship route with the fairy Amber, if you'd rather not smooch anyone at all!

Male, female, and a nonbinary love interests to pursue.

Dozens of beautifully illustrated original artworks

Partial English voice acting from a very talented voice cast!

About 10-16+ hours of content

DLC content to include:

Even more adorable DLC characters to smooch! (Alex, Liam, Clover, Chandra, and Diana)

Even more artwork gorgeous artwork to admire!

Extra bonus episodes!

twice as much story as the F2P version!

🌸 Official Website 🌸 Meet the characters 🌸

🎀 Youtube - Watch clips from the game, occasional devlogs, and other little videos I come up with! 🎀 TikTok - Silly memes and videos about the characters! 🎀 Twitter - General updates, but with way less talking space 🎀 Patreon - Exclusive updates, WIPs, and early access to builds 🎀 Discord - Community server, chat with other fans and post about secret spoilers in the backer build channel lol!

🌸 Tag List 🌸 FAQ 🌸

Try the game! I've been updating it with new episodes and content so keep an eye out!

#magical warrior diamond heart #mwdh #magical girl #magical boy #mahou shoujo #visual novel #otome game #indie dev #game dev #visual novels #visual novel game #indie games #queer games #lgbt games #need a proper pinned i think....#Youtube

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fairestbeard · 3 days ago

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Carmy's darkest secret

CONTENT WARNING !!!!!

Distressing opinions, egregious cornplating, predictive- serious potential spoilers if true.

TRIGGER WARNING: Substance ab*se, Suic*de, Mental illness.

I'll just come right out and say it.

I think Carmy might be an addict.

And I don't mean addict like a workaholic or perfection addict like we've been saying here.

I think Carmy might be an actual addict.

In fact, more specifically, I think Carmy might be a heroin addict.

"Woah! WTF, are you crazy?"

Hopefully. Hopefully I am..

I've never wanted to be more wrong in my life. And I want this meta to be so clown worthy, to be actual comedy in retrospect because it gets me properly laughed at for how wrong it is.

But walk with me here...

An unreliable narrator?

I've discussed previously in this meta my opinion of how the story of The Bear is being told from Carmy's perspective and his subjective mind, and so, the visuals and general ambience including how we perceive the characters are at least partially controlled by him. One thing that convinces me of this is how the show literally starts inside his head (the bridge dream) which sets the tone for the rest of the show.

An unreliable narrator can be defined as any narrator who misleads readers, either deliberately or unwittingly. Many are unreliable through circumstances, character flaws or psychological difficulties. In some cases, a narrator withholds key information from readers, or they may deliberately lie or misdirect.

Source: jerichowriters.com

Carmy could very well fall under the mentally impaired unreliable narrator but I think he is possibly just a dishonest narrator. Because he seems to be purposefully evading vital truths (lying by omission and substitution).

Another character in media that fits this dishonest narrator description is Fleabag of season 1. Up until the end we were with her, we sympathized and empathized with her. We cried and laughed with her. We fully understood her anger at Beau for doing what she did (won't spoil the plot for those who haven't watched it). And even at the end you still are with her. She manages to get you to see yourself in her and it's all in the power of how she tells her story.

Carmen, the drunk

I had too much to drink

I didn't think, I didn't think of you

Half A World Away - R.E.M ("The Bear")

One interesting assumption about carmy is that he is completely sober, a teetotaler, in fact. I've seen people make jokes about how he would be so light brained that he'll get drunk on nothing. Because we've never seen him drink. We've seen his confusion and anger discovering that Mickey had a drug problem he didn't know about. We see how much he despises Donna and the trauma she brought them through her drunkenness. So it's very fitting that we assume he wouldn't drink or use substances at all because that is the logical response.

But what if Carmy was actually drunk for at least all of season 1?

An unreliable narrator, especially in the 3rd person narrative, will leave clues. The pilot starts by showing us an idea of what Carmy was dealing with; unpaid bills, unreliable vendors, an outdated system and an untrusting and disrespectful staff. In between those flashes we see shots of half drunk bottles. Now those bottles could have been there for any number of reasons. Maybe it was left there by Michael. Maybe it was cooking wine. Except in the coming episodes you realize that they didn't really have anything on the menu they cooked with red wine and the bottles kept changing in content so they were obviously active bottles.

There's another spot the difference magic trick happening in these shots. Can you see it? Hint: our mother of victory.

The shots are saying something.

"Hands" was the first full on attempt to call our attention without telling us that Carmy had a problem. I said in a recent post that you had to pay attention to the shots used in the show as ask yourself "why that shot?" everytime.

The episode starts out with shots of full bottles on the table when he's interacting with Syd. We also see the bottles full after he sends Richie and Syd of to the store and he's talking to Sugar about joining Al-Anon which he seems resistant to. However, by the time Richie gets back, finds Mickey's letter and tries to deliver it to Carmy, a whole 1½ bottles of the wine is gone. This is in one afternoon, in the space of at most 2-3 hrs. No casual drinker could ever drink that much alcohol in that space of time. We are dealing with an alcoholic.

We also see that he has lapses in memory (a classic symptom of alcoholism) at the end of the episode when he discovers that the cigarettes that caused the day's mishap was actually left by him, which made him seriously consider joining Al-Anon.

Sleep walking:

Sleep walking can be triggered by alcohol (I've experienced this first hand). He says to Nat that it happens to him from time to time and she immediately brings up Al-Anon, telling him he can ask for help.

Withdrawals

Carmy shakes a lot. He's fidgety and can't stay still most times. Knowing his history and current state of mind we blame his neurotic nature. What we don't consider is that Carmy sometimes is having the shakes- a sign of withdrawal. The first time they show this is in "Dogs" at Cicero's party. We see shake off the shakes while making the hotdogs and having a laugh with Richie and Cicero.

We also see this happen in "Ceres" in the flashback with Michael making Braciole. If I had to guess, this is why Michael cut him off from the restaurant. Imagine two addicts working together? He probably felt Carmy going out in the world and finding inspiration would make him opt for a better and maybe get clean.

Some other scenes with Carmy showing signs of withdrawal:

- In the meeting with Cicero in "The Beef" his hands are clenched almost the whole time to curtail the shakes.

- Tomorrow in his Ever scene with Luca you can see his hand shaking as he raises his voice to Luca before chef Terry intervenes.

- When Chef Fields says "Are you shaking? Are you nervous?" to Carmy. Carmy isn't nervous, he in withdrawal.

- In "Omelette" ...and this one broke my heart...

The table scene with Syd.

It's not the side effects of the cocaine

I'm thinking that it must be love

Station to Station (David Bowie)

Mood swings and erratic behavior

One thing we've all come to get used to is Carmy's volatile disposition. He has the tendency to erupt or spiral dramatically at anytime showing us how extreme it can get in episodes like Review and The Bear. Behavior like this can be exacerbated by alcoholism.

For Carmy, it's a recurring pattern in season 1, he's irritable and shitty during the day but gets nicer and friendlier after he's had a bottle and half later in the day. We see this pattern play out in Hands, Brigade and even Ceres in his interaction with Syd.

Neglecting responsibilities

Anyone who's watched Carmy would call him the hardest working chef. He's fast and always seems busy, but there has been many instances of him abandoning his responsibilities in S1 and S2. That whole bit about "dialing business" while Syd is everything else was just a bullshit way for Carmy to hole himself up in the office and get drunk and not have to also worry about the day to day. Not that he conciously intends for it to be that way, but because his head is messed up, it ends up that way. He does this in season 1 with the excuse of Al-Anon and he does same in season 2 with the excuse of Claire. He tells Sydney to care about everything more than anything because he doesn't trust himself to care enough.

Self isolation

We heard him describe to the Al-Anon crowd how he self isolates. We attribute this to him reacting to the heartbreak from Mickey's treatment of him, but should we believe him? Because self isolation is also another symptom of alcoholism. He found a station for himself were he could exist in a kind of bubble and the more people he cut out of his the quieter his life got. One thing with self isolation is that it gives you less people you care about to make you feel guilty about your substance abuse. You get to do without the extra work having to hide and constantly lie to people.

Carmy's family history of alcoholism:

We see this hinted with the Al-Anon pamphlet "Alcoholism, the family disease". This is a hereditary mental illness that has been passed down the Berzatto family.

In Fishes, apart from Donna being drunk and Stephen commenting that everyone had drunk too much, we briefly see an old woman passed out on the couch, shown between shots of red wine, that is never acknowledged. This suggests a family where being passed out drunk is a normal sight or maybe for that particular person. I'm thinking by the age of them, it's probably their Nonna. I remember Nat subtly informing us in Ice Chips that Donna's mum was worse than Donna.

Fairest creatures :

We always associated this with the poem, so interpreted it as his secret desire for kids. But maybe they really are referencing the wine house in California (I think it was @gingergofastboatsmojito that highlighted this wine house), as an indication of his wine drinking habit. It could also hold both meanings since The Bear does a lot of killing many birds with a stone.

Timeline of Carmy's present day substance abuse:

– Wakes up from a drunken slumber where he dreams of the bear at the bridge

– Tries and repeatedly fails to keep his drinking in check all of season 1. Culminates in the Review debacle.

– Attempts to quit again (I think) in "Pasta" by filling his time and trying to find fun. Getting closer to Syd. Meets and rejects Claire.

– His disposition seemed to have started changing in "Sundae" he's showing cracks in his mood. Looks like he's going through the motions cooking at the apartment. Tries to bump up the fun by doing a taste tour but abandons it when Claire calls him because in reality he was abandoning the idea that he could do it clean. So his sobriety probably lasts only about a week.

– In the beginning of Honeydew you can see him falling apart already. He looks like very stressed out and unable to concentrate. He's obviously been disappearing because he doesn't seem to be up to date on what's happening at the restaurant.

– By "Pop" he is fully hanging out with the party crowd. We see that he's been disappearing for a while now.

(On a side note: I wonder if the sign that says Ziggy on the calendar in Bolognese is referencing Ziggy Stardust, as in The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust.)

– Is in full withdrawal by friends and family. Probably contemplating giving sobriety "his full focus". Another version of Review happens again as he loses control mid service.

Tomorrow:

The opening sequence of tomorrow was very interesting. He walks into the dark restaurant, death stares two glasses of wine and an ashtray of cigarettes. Clears and vigorously cleans the table, then kicks the bar cart in disgust. This is a dramatic summation of how he felt about alcohol, this thing that has upended his life. We also see him start his R&D process by dumping a bottle of red wine in a pot, repurposing his addiction. In a normal setting the alcoholic would dump all the alcohol in the sink to start the sobering process. He also tries to reorganize his life in an effort to cope with it.

We see him mentally go through his journey as a chef and his journey as an addict with markers made with the music alone. There are moments of flow, moments of drama and moments of crises. Each time the dissonant section of the music plays, I think, represents either a crisis that leads him back to another cycle of addiction, or his addiction coming to a head.

We see him stoop and look at four spots before the episode comes to a close. The spots are never shown. But if I had to guess, I'd say those spots were: the fridge, the locker room, the bar cart and the clock.

S3 is about getting it out of his system:

I think Carmy is yet again trying to beat his addictions. I think this is the first time we are actually witnessing him rawdog his depression in real time without his substance clutch and that is why he is so insufferable. Season 3 is Carmy in long-term withdrawal and detoxification and it's not an easy process. It's hard and it's ugly. The dramatic marker (substitute storyline) for this point in his life is his quitting cigarettes. The cigarettes, as well as representing itself, also represents his other addictions and so at his last count with Syd, Carmy has been sober for 41 days + the following days that count to the Ever funeral.

Part 2

#the bear #sydcarmy #carmy berzatto #the bear meta #sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #the bear fx #the bear hulu #sydney x carmy #syd x carmy

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tiar-vn · 8 months ago

Text

Welcome to ‘Trapped In a Rose’!!

An 18+ visual novel centered around a Convent and its secrets. This blog will hold side stories, updates, doodles and much more!!

Throughout the story you'll be able to interact with other characters and follow the convent routine, mysterious murders happen inside the structure and you have the option to find out why this is happening OR you could also focus on other goals!

Additionally.

You'll meet the "leader" of this convent, Yaki, who's our one love interest!!

WARNING! While the game will not contain NSFW content (in the demo, at the very least), there will still be;

• Depictions of religious trauma

• Abuse of religious practices and power

• Threats of violence and strong language

• Murder and depictions of gore

• Character death

• Disturbing visual

• Obsessive and possessive behavior

• Stalking

So it would be for the best if minors DID NOT interact or follow this blog, as this is intended for a +18 audience. Thank you for understanding.

Yaki's character reference

MC’s character reference

This game is in development, worked on by me and my friend. I would really appreciate it if people didn't put pressure on us whatsoever! This project is mainly for fun and learning!!

CREDITS—

The one leading the blog(me);

@chercookue <- <- <- <- <- FOLLOW HIM 💥

#pinned #indie vn #visual novel #yandere vn #yandere visual novel

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yuzepi · 2 months ago

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ok. cool. watching pmmm today, Things I Noticed, mostly sayaka-based bc she is my baby. I feel like most of these should be obvious but wahhh I want to gather all my thoughts here before I forget them

1. Sayaka’s magical girl costume design is just GENIUS. she has a really heroic cape which gives her figure really notice movement + I have to emphasize HEROIC MOTIF AGAIN1!! and she says she thinks she was “born to be a magical girl” so where is her soul gem in her magical girl outfit? Her Naval. #awesome

2a. The scene where Sayaka and Kyoko discuss like why kyoko became a magical girl and stuff is just riddled with religious imagery, from the actual content of the discusses (kyokos father being a preacher) to the scenery surrounding them to even the fact that kyoko is Eating An Apple. In the conversation she has with sayaka about how she should be more selfish. Like kyoko is almost always seen eating which I take to reading as Consumption, but it’s really powerful that in this scene she’s also offering sayaka a Temptation. and again, the stained glass part is so good

2b. in this same scene we get to see how genius they’ve been at foreshadowing the magical girls become witches thing because thoughout the show what we initially see as the really scary and start and abstract witches labyrinths contrasted with just the “purity” or normalcy of the real world is slowly stripped away as we learn more and more abt the dark secrets of magical girls. the bgs become more abstract the things we see surrounding actual magical girls resemble the weirdness found in the witches labyrinths more and more. ESPECIALLY apparent with kyoko here. also bro the eye motifs are so good you get your ass I’m going to copy and paste that into my own art

3. scene where sayakas fighting a witch. 1) the stylistic choice to me is incredibly mythic feeling, like something out of a legend or a children’s story. 2) its (almost entirely) monochrome and achromatic. Black and white. Much like sayakas own mindset where she never seems to observe the in between s and does see everything as black and white. going out on a stretch here but particularly the black against the white bg, sayaka herself being portrayed in this darkness, as though… She’s taking on this blackening toll in order to protect those she sees and innocent and pure

4. Ok I was watching the scene with madoka and kyoko and was like huh. Those are some very particular and specific silhouettes they’ve placed in the foreground. And then lo and behold. water motif with sayaka like she drowned in her empathy or smth (ok no, there are definitely better things I can try to figure out what the water is a motif , but I don’t have the brains for that rn) and like kyoko with her stabby spears being the unicorn. sorry im not rlly cooking anything I just loved how they came back to this

5. DEFINITELY a stretch but kyoko telling homura she has to fight for the one thing that matters most to her and protect it to the end and homura is 1) holding madoka here and 2). It sort of looks like a pieta!!!!!!

I’m enjoying watching this a lot and the art direction is incredibly gorgeous and the visual storytelling is strong and also obvious enough for someone like me to at least pic up on. ya im watching this to up my jonelias game . if I were to kin assign elias he would be kyubey or something. very gender (no surprise) and I love the commentary on being a girl and being a woman and the dehumanization and the horror of it all. I also want madokas mom. really good im having fun. bonus points to mami teacup motif but i feel like that ones so super duper obvious there’s not much point in me going off on a tangent about it. really making me realize how much I crave stories about Being a girl

#yuzerambles #pmmm

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yukidragon · 4 months ago

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Hello hello~ so i had a though Is been on my head a lot, we know Jack can't age since Is a ghost. But What would Jack thoughs if saw MC age. (If he eliminate all His Rivals) Will Jack be okay Idea MC Will get older while he doesn't and the idea of MC died Will terrified him??? 🤔 I want explore More that area an I know the perfect expert on writing Lore ❤️💙💛

Aww, thank you so much! I really appreciate that you think of me so highly.❤️💛💙

That is quite the interesting question. Jack already died decades ago, so he can't exactly grow old and die again. He's something more than a ghost now, with the power to affect his appearance and stay the same age, at least visually, for over 40 years.

Content Warning: This post is going to discuss aging, death, grief, murder, cult activities, abusive relationships, sex work, trauma, illness, and yandere obsession.

Mortality is something Jack no longer has to contend with, even if his current existence is hinging entirely on one person. He needs his sunshine in every way, to support his very existence. Being reminded of just how fragile his situation is would shake him... to say nothing of how much he loves his sunshine and wants them in his life.

Jack isn't going to be okay with losing his sunshine. Whether it's to a rival or mortality, he won't ever let them go.

This ask did make me consider too how the soul bond might affect Alice physically. Not to mention what the ritual did to make Jack into what he is now. LambsWork went through a lot of trouble to set up a situation where a blood sacrifice was beloved by thousands of people, particularly innocent children, only to have them all "betrayed" by the truth being revealed about the picture perfect Sunny Day Jack before the man behind the makeup was brutally murdered before their eyes.

So much time and effort was put into building up a star and crushing it, as well as those who poured their hearts into this idol known as Sunny Day Jack. Then there's all the effort it took to cover up the mess of scandals that the incident of 1984 left behind.

All of that effort and risk must have been for something seen as worth the cost. What could someone, or rather a group of someone, with enough money to buy and sell lives as they pleased, have to gain? It's a lot of money to spend on a simple snuff film.

That something would have to be what money couldn't buy on its own of course. Immortality and supernatural powers are certainly a couple of things that money just can't buy. Until now, perhaps.

Jack is a powerful entity, and his power will only grow. He has yet to discover everything he can do now that no human can. He can't die anymore, and that's just the start. Though his hold on reality is precarious and entirely dependent on Alice, the things he is capable of can be truly frightening.

What if eventually Jack can grow his power to the point that he can protect Alice from death or old age? If he was reborn from a ritual meant to grant immortality, then perhaps he could learn how to grant his sunshine that same blessing.

I mean, Alice kind of figured out the secret herself in the Bad End AU. Though those results were less than ideal. Jack will have to be careful so that he doesn't dim his sunshine's beautiful light in the pursuit of keeping them together forever.

The idea of watching Alice slowly grow old while he remained the same forever would terrify Jack to no end. He simply can't handle the idea of losing his sunshine. He can't just watch her light go dim and disappear.

And Jack knows exactly what will happen to him if Alice is no longer there to save him. Without her, only hell awaits him. He can't go back there, not when he's finally found heaven, or rather heaven found him.

Never again.

Jack might understand that all things die eventually, he might even have had a very special episode all about it on the SunnyTime Crew Show in order to help young children come to terms with death... but he knows what really happens when a person dies. He knows full well how cold and alone he was, suffering from memories of his death for what felt like eternity.

How could Jack even think of damning his precious sunshine to that sort of hell?

It only makes sense that Jack would have a fear of death after what he experienced. Even if he learns that he can't physically be killed again no matter how much damage he takes, that doesn't mean he's free from that fear.

Humans are so fragile. Jack found that out the hard way during the '84 incident. Just a little twitch or two of a person's finger, a couple of pops, and his life ended. Death can come so frighteningly easy.

Joseph had reason to dread death even before he was murdered. For years he believed Mary had died young from her illness. He mourned her loss for years. Her death had been foretold as something she couldn't avoid, and he was helpless to stop it.

Even though Joseph found out Mary didn't actually die back then, the threat of death still hung over her even after their reunion. She was still sick and always in pain. Some days were worse than others, when the shadow of death was a looming presence breathing down their necks... and there was still nothing that he could do.

It would certainly hit Jack even harder if he learned of how, after his death, Mary died soon after, alone and in so much pain...

That sort of helplessness to save someone you love can scar you. Alice has the same illness Mary had. Even though she has treatment and a better prognosis than she did a lifetime ago, there'd be that lingering fear just at the edges of his memories that he tries so hard to forget.

Jack has been given a second chance to have his happily ever after with his sunshine. He's clean now, without the sins of Joseph to weigh him down. He's no longer that dirty homeless drifter who got into fights and sold his body for cheap just for scraps of affection and to survive. He's not that bully that pushed someone to take their own life or an unwanted child. Even the smear on his legacy as Sunny Day Jack from the 1984 incident is gone after the world forgot about him and the SunnyTime Crew Show.

Jack is sure that he and Alice can make a better future together, one where they won't be forgotten by anyone ever again. A lifetime ago, Joseph wanted to grow old together with Mary and live a long and happy life together. Jack has to think bigger than that. Much, much bigger.

Jack can't go back to hell, and he can't stand the idea of his sunshine being trapped there too.

Jack had no doubt that death would not grant them the mercy to at least be together. It didn't before after all. Death is a cold and lonely place to be.

When Jack remembers Mary and realizes that she was reborn as Alice, perhaps it would soften his fears a bit. They both had a second chance at life. Maybe death is something just as finite as life.

Though 40 years in hell might as well be an eternity. Time had no meaning there, and Jack lost so much of himself in that cold, lonely place. Death isn't a peaceful rest, and he knows it. Death is the loss of everything - warmth, comfort, companionship, love... even memory and all sense of self. If he spent enough time there, how much of himself would've been erased?

Would Jack have eventually lost every single memory of himself, only to be reborn as an entirely different person? Was that what happened to Mary after she died? Did she suffer through that same hell and lost all sense of herself so that she wouldn't remember her previous life when she would be eventually reborn as Alice?

Alice didn't remember Joseph. Mary never had another romantic relationship after her family moved away. She could never find the same love Joseph gave her, and she preferred to keep the memory of him over the idea of pursuing a new love. Joseph couldn't find love either no matter how hard he searched.

But Alice forgot Joseph completely, which led to her giving her heart away to someone else... someone who hurt her badly like all those people hurt Joseph when he tried to find love again.

Death had severed them once before. It tore people apart, leaving them alone and vulnerable... perfect prey for greedy predators who didn't care to cherish their fragile hearts.

Joseph only looked for love elsewhere because he thought death had taken Mary away. Death took away Mary's memories of Joseph, which was why she searched for love elsewhere as Alice.

Death meant the destruction of love. It was cold and devoid of all care or kindness. It was the opposite of love itself. It erased everything, all warmth and happiness and self.

Jack learned all too well to truly fear what it meant to die.

That's why Jack hesitates to kill anyone. No matter how unhinged and twisted his thoughts become, his fear of hell stills his hand, just a bit. He can't be responsible for damning someone to hell, even if he hates them. Even if they might deserve it! It's torture beyond words.

Not wanting to kill someone also fits in perfectly with the character of Sunny Day Jack. It also fits with Joseph wanting to be clean. He could never kill someone. Ever.

Sunny Day Jack would never do something like that. He can't.

If... if they killed themselves, well... then that's... it's just something out of Jack's control. It's not his fault. His hands are clean. He didn't want that... he couldn't be responsible...

Of course Jack would never want someone to kill themselves! He wouldn't want to see anyone die, and there's no need to even think about such a gruesome thing.

There are so many other ways to make a threat disappear... to make them want to leave forever.

Jack knows so well how a mind can be broken... how a reputation can be stained beyond repair for a lifetime. He can ruin them, expose their flaws and failings, make them see how wrong and terrible they truly are. He can show his sunshine just how terrible they are too, how utterly unworthy they are to bask in her happy glow. He can push them to their breaking point like he was so many times both in life and in death... If they don't have the sense to run away on their own for the sake of their own sanity, then he can expose just how truly rotten they really are deep down inside.

It's less taxing on Jack's sanity to stay as far from death as he can, even if it means doing things that might be worse than murder. Not that he thinks that anything can be worse than death. There's no worse fate to him than the hell he's already experienced after all...

So... unless Jack can come to terms with death and feel completely sure with 100% confidence that he won't ever be damned to hell again... he'll do whatever he can to keep him and his sunshine away from it. No matter what it takes.

If the ritual that created him was meant to grant immortality, then perhaps Jack could use that to keep Alice safe. Sure, the results didn't work the way the higher ups at LambsWork intended it to, but if he can just understand what went wrong, he can use it to his own ends...

Then again... who says it didn't work? If the ritual could turn Joseph into something like Jack, then perhaps it did something to those who went to so much effort to perform it in the first place. What happened to Joseph could've been just an incidental casualty, a side-effect of the true intended results of the ritual.

It really was impressive how LambsWork could completely erase Sunny Day Jack and the SunnyTime Crew Show from history despite its popularity... What they accomplished was practically supernatural, don't you think?

It makes me wonder about the people who performed the ritual. Where are they now? What are they capable of? What have they been doing for the past 40 years? What are their plans for the future?

What will they do if they find out that their sacrificial lamb has come back from hell?

But that's a ramble for another day. Getting back to the original question... Jack isn't going to let old age or death steal away his sunshine. He won't let anything separate them. Never again.

Even if that means doing thing he never thought himself capable of. Even if it means becoming something new, not Sunny Day Jack or any other name he used, but something far worse than Joseph Cullman ever was. Even if he has to do things that fill him with fear and might completely break his already fractured sanity.

There is nothing that scares Jack more than the thought of losing his sunshine. He knows all too well what it was like when he lost her. He won't ever let anything take her away from him again. She's his hope, his light, his love, his very happiness itself. She is everything to him, and he can't lose her again.

Besides, Jack promised Alice that they would be together forever, and Sunny Day Jack never breaks a promise.

Sunshine in Hell will have a happy ending, but that doesn't mean it won't go into some dark and scary places along the way. Hell is in the name after all.

There's something wrong with Sunny Day Jack. His soul has been twisted, scarred, and warped to the point that he can't really be called human or even a ghost anymore. It's going to take a lot of effort and love to help heal all those scars that have left him so afraid of being cold, alone, and forgotten.

Jack has a lot of healing to do.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

#Sunshine in Hell #Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Jack #Alice King #Joseph Cullman #Mary Phoenix

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