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darkstarofchaos · 7 days

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You know what, I'm going to make a theory for how Transformers One is going to play out. Let's see.

So a lot of people have observed that Megatron/D-16 already has a Decepticon insignia in all of his clips in the trailer. As far as I could tell, no other character has any symbols at all (aside from some text that might be part of an altmode, similar to Prowl's doorwings having "police" on them when he's on Earth). In one clip, however, we see him kneeling in front of what could be the head of a long-dead ancient Cybertronian - I would guess Megatronus, since Megatron has to get his name from somewhere. So my theories for that:

D-16 is religious and/or believes in the ancient Primes, and the insignia is similar to a tattoo.

The insignia is actually used by the current regime to mark criminals or other "undesirables". D-16 got in trouble in the past, either for something he did or something someone else did, and now he's gun-shy (heh) about breaking further rules; hence why he resists Orion's desire to go to the surface, and is generally more cautious than he is. When they do get to the surface, however, he learns about the ancient Prime whose face resembles the brand he wears, and he eventually claims both the name and the symbol as his own.

Honestly, I prefer option 2. It has more potential for storytelling, and it feels more like Megatron to me. So I'm going to go with that.

To the story itself. I'm going to guess that the Quintessons are in charge, but this might not be common knowledge - D-16 does say that the surface is dangerous, but the "lowly worker-bots" might not know exactly why. I prefer the more deceptive approach that those stuck living underground believe they're at war with the Quintessons, when in reality, that war ended long ago. The workers are allowed to keep up the illusion either because it serves the Quints - workers who believe their oppressors are already being fought aren't going to rise up - or because it allows the higher-ranking Cybertronians to keep some portion of their population safely out of the Quints' reach. Maybe both.

If it's the former, workers' T-cogs are taken to further reduce the odds of an uprising, while for the latter, perhaps the cogs were taken under the guise of being needed for soldiers, when in reality, it's to keep the workers from leaving their safe place. I lean more towards the leaders having good intentions but deplorable methods, because it sets the stage for a divide in the Cybertronian people after the Quintessons are dealt with. Also, it fits better with my theory that the Decepticon insignia is being used as a criminal brand of some kind.

So our heroes get to the surface and learn the truth of things - the war long-since ended and their people are functionally slaves to the Quints. But there are still bots capable of resisting the invaders - the proto-Decepticons, currently lead by Starscream.

I feel like this could go one of two ways - either the proto-Cons could fight the Quints but won't, and so need to be convinced. Or they are fighting them and refuse to let the eager young heroes help because they can't even transform. I prefer the latter, partly because I already have someone else the heroes need to convince, and partly because it's the heroes being turned away that leads them to the next story beat: they can't transform and there are no T-cogs left, but there is someone who might be able to help them.

And so the *ahem* Quest for Alpha Trion begins.

They find him at the gravesite of his long-since fallen brethren, D-16 discovers Megatronus - and Alpha Trion will not help them, because he sees no point. The Quints have already won, and further fighting will only lead to more death.

My basis for this beat comes from Elita's line in the trailer: "We were given these powers for a reason". It's possible this was just a line plucked from somewhere else as a voiceover, and that it just happens to synch up very well with the clip where the line starts. But based on that clip, she says it to Alpha Trion while the heroes are still unable to transform. So when she says "we were given these powers" she's not talking about the heroes; she's talking about Cybertronians as a whole. I think that, while Alpha Trion initially refuses to help them, he does fill them in on some of their history, which then gives the heroes what they need to talk him into helping.

And so, with their newly acquired T-cogs, the crew is able to join the battle against the Quints, they successfully drive out the invaders, and everything ends well - except there is disagreement over how the Cybertronian race should proceed now that they're free to govern themselves.

Cue end credits.

(Yes, I think they're going to use the Bots vs Cons war as sequel bait. I do not think they can tell the entire story in one movie and would frankly prefer they not try. Of course, they could handle things far differently than I laid out, but even then, with the inclusion of the Quints, I just don't think one movie has time to address everything). Edit: Oh yeah, and I guess Orion becomes Optimus at some point near the end there. I dunno how or why. I don't think Hasbro would let him stay Orion for an entire movie, but with the setup they've got, I'm not sure how they're gonna fit Pax-to-Prime in there.

#transformers #Transformers one #TF One #Transformers One Spoilers #Not because my story there is actually spoiling the movie #but it does dig pretty deep into some stuff from the trailer

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starleska · 1 year

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stop all this wholesome >:( I wanna know your hcs on Dark!Wally. Explore how evil he is. What kinda horrible agenda he has goin on. Your choice if its still a x reader im just curious how you'd interpret it- ... Dont feel forced to do so btw feel free to ignore this if it aint yer cup of tea ToT

hahahaha, this gave me a great laugh!! you've caught me, anon - i am very much a fan of evil, devious, villainous, morally bereft and just plain dreadful characters. you'll see from my f/o tracker that i'm quite the bad guy connoisseur - i just haven't explored that with Wally yet because we know so little about what his agenda is!! it's Wally's ambiguity that makes him so fun to play with;;;

i'd love to fill this out with some potential theories, if you'll humour me 😉 gonna pop this under a spoiler tag as well just in case this speculation turns out correct, and for the warnings!!

content warnings for potential Welcome Home spoilers, scopophobia, stalking, murder, cannibalism, and cults:

Dark!Wally (or potentially, just Wally) Darling headcanons:

⭐ Wally is using us as food. ever since we found out about Wally eating with his eyes, i haven't been able to get this idea out of my head. everything from everyone looking up at the tracker on the website, to Wally watching us from the other side of the screen, has me wondering exactly why he loves us so much, and why he seems happy to engage with all of us pouring in to look at the site. i'm wondering if Wally is something of a psychic cannibal - someone who is able to devour essence through attention, particularly through eye contact. there is something he's getting from us interacting with him on the website, and i feel like his love is of the possessive variety...he needs us for something that we don't understand yet. ⭐ Wally 'fed' his neighbourhood friends to his Home, and is play-acting as if his friends are still alive by interacting with us. some eagle-eyed fans noticed recently that in one image, Wally's armchair has a stitched-on patch that looks suspiciously like Barnaby's skin. likewise, there's a very strange file name on one of the drawings Wally did on the Guestbook, in a comment talking about Eddie, where he says he 'runs too much'. we know that Home is alive, and that Wally talks to Home. we also don't know why Wally's house is the only one with apparent sentience. my question is...how is Home fuelled? and why is Wally the only one talking to us through the Guestbook if his puppet-self is alive - where is everyone else? my (very thin) speculation is that Wally may have sacrificed his friends to keep Home alive, but suffered a mental breakdown as a result, and wants to preserve their old life through the website as if nothing is wrong. ⭐ Wally is a vain attention hog who wants to be back in the spotlight. this one is bare-bones, but hear me out - this can go a couple of ways! if we choose to believe the Wally speaking from within the website is, somehow, a sentient puppet (or his consciousness is infused with the website), we could also believe that he may miss his apparently peaceful, love-filled life from another time. perhaps Wally was alive during the original run of Welcome Home, and somehow remained alive following its cancellation. perhaps he feels spurned now he's no longer the friendly neighbourhood host of the television show long-forgotten to the public...where better to try and gain a new audience than online, under the guise of a restoration project? we could even make a potential cult leader argument here... again, this is all pure speculation!! we have no idea at all what Wally's agenda is at this stage, and that's a good thing;; it's going to be loads of fun learning more about Wally and what his intentions are. i'd love to hear people's theories 😉

#wally darling #welcome home #welcome home arg #welcome home spoilers #welcome home theories #tw: scopophobia #tw: stalking #tw: murder #tw: cannibalism #tw: cults #starleskasks #starleskawrites #starleskatalks

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itssotragic · 3 months

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Rhea/Dom/Damian/JD + “you don’t need to earn my affection, not now and not ever.”

pleassseeee 🥹

Rated: T Tags: Insecurity, love confession (sort of), slight allusion to OCD, polyamory, some sweary words.

Prompt List

JD sat alone in the locker room, his hoodie and sweatpants were thrown on over his gear to ward off the chill of the cavernous backstage halls, his fingers tracing carefully over a silver bracelet. It had become a habit over the past few days. Whenever he felt like he was spiraling into another pit of doubt and uncertainty, he'd fish it out of his bag and slip it on, the metal biting briefly into his skin before clipping into place. However small it was, it sat heavy with the weight of meaning—a reminder that, for the first time in a long time, he wasn't doing this alone. And maybe that was what made it feel so daunting.

He'd never been good at gestures. Words came easily enough, most of the time, but when it came to more tangible efforts, he felt like he was trying to decipher a riddle in a language that had been dead for a thousand years. But for something so big that meant so much to all of them, he couldn't help but feel like he needed to do something in return.

But nothing he could think of felt like enough.

Which was why he was hiding in a dimly lit side room while Rhea finished up with press. Usually, he'd be lurking a few feet away, next to Dom, but tonight he'd hung back under the guise of having a headache. It wasn't an outright lie, but he was fairly certain the pain at the back of his skull was less from his head bouncing off the mat earlier and more from the thin shard of stress that had buried itself there. Now, he could hear the rumble of equipment trolleys loading onto trucks and the faint buzz of conversation and laughter shifting through the halls, fading off into the distance, and whatever time he'd been afforded to settle his mind had already elapsed.

He hefted his bag off the bench beside him and yanked the tie out of his hair, stuffing it absent-mindedly into his pocket as he lurched into the hallway. His footsteps echoed faintly off the cement and cinder block, growing slightly more muffled as he rounded into the staging area and towards where the others had gathered, giving a brief nod of acknowledgment as Dom glanced over his shoulder.

There was something in the way Dom smiled at him—the effortless, bright, beaming smile—that made him forget a little bit of that stress. But Dom was easy; it was the other two that left him feeling apprehensive sometimes. Not that they had ever done anything to cause that worry, but he was hyper-aware of the fact that he was a brand new variable being introduced into a situation that had existed, so finely balanced, for over a year. It was going to take time to rid himself of the fear that one wrong move would send him plummeting off the metaphorical scaffolding onto the ground below. Most of the time, he was fine. It didn't sit with him constantly. But once in a while, that shard, that splinter of thought, dug right into the center of his brain and refused to budge, no matter how much logic and reason he tried to apply to force it out.

He slumped against Dom's side, catching the tail end of their conversation. Damian said something in Spanish he only caught half of, and Dom chuckled, wrapping an arm around his waist like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

"We good?" Damian asked, turning his attention to JD. There was something in his expression that was a little softer than usual—a quiet sort of concern he knew not to question. He had an uncanny ability to read people, and it made him wonder if he hadn't already noticed that something was off, or if he might still be able to play it off with the same excuse he'd been using most of the night.

"More or less," he shrugged. "I'm not concussed if that's what you're worried about."

"You checked out?" Damian folded his arms across his chest, attention flitting away for half a second as Rhea grabbed her sweatshirt off the top of her bag and yanked it on over her head.

"Yeah, I stopped by medical after my match. They said I'm fine."

Damian nodded, satisfied enough for now, though it wasn't like they were going to have a conversation about anything more involved than that in the middle of everything. "Alright," he said, "let's roll, then. You guys want to grab something to eat on the way?"

"Always," Dom answered, giving JD one more squeeze before he pulled away, falling in line next to Rhea with a playful bump of his shoulder against hers and the same wide, adoring grin he always had for her.

They made their way out through the arena towards the parking garage, with Damian leading the pack, Rhea and Dom next to each other, and JD trailing just behind. A few people were still milling around, but most had either left already or were on their way out. There were a few nods and waves exchanged on the way—brief passing conversations that faded into an echo and then into nothingness. Then the sharp, hollow beep from the rental van's key fob cut through the relative quiet, lights blinking, and the click of the doors unlocking carried across the nearly empty lot.

"Why don't you sit up front?" Damian said, thumping JD on the shoulder with one hand as he threw his duffel bag on top of everyone else's and slammed the hatch closed.

His eyebrows raised slightly, and he shrugged. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Make the kids sit in the back."

Normally he was one of the kids, but with Finn still on holiday, he assumed he was technically the next in line. No one seemed to mind, or at least not enough to argue about it, so JD slid into the passenger's seat and dragged the seatbelt over his shoulder, clicking it into place before Damian even got the door closed on the other side. He kept his hands pinned between his knees, palms together, watching Damian plug his phone into the aux cord and tick the volume down a few levels. The heat whirred on, and a few clicks later, the seats and steering wheel were warming up as well.

Damian tipped his head back against the headrest, glancing into the rearview mirror. "You want to find somewhere to eat, and I'll punch it into the GPS before we take off?"

Rhea murmured a quick "Yep" and slung herself across the back seat, draped over Dom's lap so he could look at her phone with her while she scrolled through all the restaurants and drive-thrus between here and their hotel. It was a process. Checking hours, checking menus, checking to see how far off their route it was going to take them to get there, and whether there were carry-out options or if they felt up to crowding into a booth. Then, inevitably, they repeated the cycle three or four more times until they found something that had everything they wanted.

But at least the van was warm.

JD settled back in his seat and stretched his legs out, shoving his toes to the end of his sneakers and hooking them under the dashboard to soak up heat from the base vents. Damian thrummed his fingers against the steering wheel, mostly in tempo with the song humming out of the speakers, but there was a stutter to it—something thoughtful, half a beat behind the rest. When, after a few long seconds, he finally dredged up the courage to look over, he found Damian staring straight through him. Disconcertingly precise and deliberate.

"What?" he frowned, holding Damian's gaze even as a flush crept into his cheeks.

Damian shifted, angled himself towards JD, and rested his elbow against the door, his hand still draped over the spoke of the steering wheel. "I'm still wondering what's up with you tonight."

He heaved a sigh and reached up to shove his hair out of his face. "Nothing, really—"

"Bullshit."

"—it's just…" Another sigh, this time more frustrated. He could feel the impulse to answer honestly, but he didn't know why he was fighting it as hard as he was, or why he kept looking for an excuse to cast the truth into the abyss again. He dragged his lower lip through his teeth and thumped his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, that shard shifting a little deeper.

"Look, I don't..." he started again. "I don't know how to do this shit, alright? I'm bad at it; I'm genuinely bad at it." He gestured vaguely with both hands, trying to summon something more than just panic and insecurity from thin air. "The only person I've ever felt right with was Finn, and he's always been here, so we just sort of figured it out together. But now there's you three, and I feel—I'm starting to feel—the same way, and I don't know how to... show that, how to break even. I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't want to be the piece that makes this all fall apart."

It was a hell of a lot more than he'd planned on saying, but once he started, he couldn't stop the words from pouring out of him. By the time he'd caught his breath and lowered his hand from where it was clutching the neckline of his hoodie, Rhea had leaned forward into the space between the seats, her hand resting on his upper arm. Damian reached out too, fingers encircling JD's wrist as his thumb brushed softly over the face of the bracelet—a gesture that carried more than enough intent for him to understand.

"Maybe part of your problem is feeling like you have to break even in the first place," Damian said, his voice softer and gentler now, though it still rang with a tone that suggested this should have been obvious. "It's not about keeping score; you don't have to do anything to earn our affection—not now, not ever. It's there; you've got it." He tapped the bracelet with his thumb, then slid his hand around to trace JD's wrist with his fingertips. "And we're all still figuring it out. Trust me, it was bumpy in a few places when this all started; it still is sometimes. But that's just how things are. If you want it badly enough, you work through it."

JD hesitated for a moment, then slowly turned his hand over, palm-up, watching with a spark of amazement as Damian laced their fingers together and squeezed. It was such a simple gesture—so small, so ordinary—but it carried a weight of its own. It was the first time they'd ever done that, and yet it felt familiar already—the weight of his palm, the calluses on his fingertips. He drew in a slow breath and nodded, then turned his gaze back up towards Damian's face.

He wasn't sure what it was that Damian saw there, but he almost immediately pulled back, flipped the center console up, and reached out to place his hand on the back of JD's neck, dragging him forward with a soft "Goddammit, c'mere, kid." It was awkward; the seatbelt bit into the side of his neck, but he didn't care. His arms slid around Damian's torso, hands clutched in the back of his jacket, and his face buried against his shoulder. His breath shuddered softly, muffled by leather and solid flesh.

"If you need a place to start," Damian said, almost in a whisper, though he was sure both Rhea and Dom could hear it from the back, "start by telling us what you need, when you need it. Don't let it get this bad. We've all got you, and we've all got each other. That's how it works."

"Okay," JD murmured.

Damian pulled back, his hand at JD's jaw, and his head tipped down just enough to look him in the eyes under the veil of errant curls. "Familia, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And," Rhea added, thrumming her fingers softly against his shoulder, "if you ever feel like you're getting in your own way, come talk to one of us."

"Or all of us," Dom said.

"Or all of us," Rhea agreed.

He nodded and scrubbed hastily at his cheek with the cuff of his sleeve as he sank back in his seat. Anything he might have said was caught behind a lump in his throat, but that sharp prickle of anxiety had vanished from the back of his mind, leaving behind little more than a faint buzz of residual nerves and a warmth he was fairly certain had nothing to do with the heating vents. Damian twisted back into his seat, and Rhea gave his shoulder a quick squeeze before she fell back against Dom, who wrapped his arm around her waist and peered over her shoulder at her phone again.

There was a lull, a trickle of silence. JD sniffed. Damian cleared his throat.

"So are we getting food, or what?" Damian asked.

"If you two would shut the fuck up for ten seconds, I'd have told you that we found a place." Rhea rolled her eyes, overdramatic, but handed her phone over, so Damian could enter the address into the on-screen navigation.

He passed the phone back over his shoulder to her when he was done, shifted the van into gear, and started the winding journey out of the garage. The glitter of streetlamps was a lot more pleasant than the waxy yellow lights and dingy cement, and JD let himself relax a little against the window, keeping the three of them in his peripheral. It wasn't until they stopped at a red light that he felt Damian's hand slide over the armrest, fingers splayed and his palm resting upward. He looked up, meeting Damian's gaze with a smile as he tangled their fingers together again.

#damian priest #dominik mysterio #rhea ripley #jd mcdonagh #the judgment day #poly judgment day #wrestling #tragically written #micro fic #no beta we die like men #an attempt at being concise #i genuinely can't tell if this is any good #but it went in an unexpected direction #c'est la vie #there was a weird typo but it's fixed now #carry on

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toomuchracket · 1 year

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https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTR3CbuG4/ the visual for Matty yelling at pit cuz his pregnant gf is in there <3

and also Going off the “gf is pregnant” part it could be fluffy if like the pregnancy is still super early and it’s not really out in the open, no one knows yet maybe so some people are a little shocked at how protective he’s being

no like you've literally just found out you're pregnant but it's before the 12 week stage so you and matty (who, btw, is SO excited about having a baby) haven't told anybody at all. and matty is really really hesitant to let you go into the crowd as you normally would with charli and some of you guys' friends, but you know that everyone would start assuming something was up if you were at the side of the stage or seated (they'd immediately guess you were pregnant and then your whole fun reveal/getting to tell people moment is ruined), so he compromises by making sure you stay near the front where he can see you. and its fine at first (matty's being extra cute and winks at you during m&yts when he sings "i had a dream that we had kids"), you're having fun and everyone's being chill - the fans love you and they're excited to dance and sing along with you. and then some guy, either on something or just a cunt (or both) decides he wants to be at barrier so he starts shoving through all the fans and ends up elbowing you just below your ribs. and matty sees it happen and it's very much like the og video with the "i'll fucking knock you out" but there's like 29 other threats following it ("don't you fucking dare" etc), and he gets security to kick the guy out of the full show. and everyone's like "um ok", and matty comes down offstage and stands on the other side of the barrier, and he asks everyone around you if they're all ok, and everyone's fine. and matty's obviously really really worried about you - holds your face and gently asks if you're alright (yes), did he hurt you (little bit but it's fine), do you want to come out of the crowd (no!), then hugs you and kisses your hair before he tells you he loves you and gets back onstage. and then i think he does a spiel about concert etiquette and how nobody gets away with being a twat at one of his gigs before he plays the next song. and it's all fine, but matty's distracted, thinking and panicking about you (and future baby) during the sound. i actually think he brings you up onstage for a robbers kiss under the guise of being cute (and it is and the crowd goes wild), and then literally is in your ear like "i am NOT letting you back out there to get squished", so you either have to sit onstage (maybe you just go and chill with polly and jamie) or watch from the side. and you're a bit miffed but you humour matty anyway, and he definitely relaxes more when you're out of harm's way. when he comes offstage at the end he's immediately over at you, cuddling you and apologising for pulling you out of the pit, kissing all over your face and making sure you're ok, giving it "have to protect my family, don't i?" in your ear. and i think everyone else in the band kinda has an idea what's going on but matty was so infuriated onstage that nobody even dares to ask anything other than "you ok, love?" to you in case he goes mental at them lol <3

#mads answers asks #mads muses #matty asks #fluff asks #dad!matty

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itsbenedict · 1 month

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Bullet Proof: Postmortem

Waaaay back in the day, when I was 19 and I'd just discovered Dangan Ronpa (back when we put the space in the title, because all we had was the Orenronen LP and we called Ultimates "Super High-School Levels"), I decided to do my own. That was the heyday of forum adventures on the MSPA Forums, and there were no standards. I didn't know how to draw, but I decided to learn. I wanted to make a thing!

I got a good ways into it, honestly! It went through a few format changes, skipping over a couple cases in the middle in an abridged format on Tumblr, but I'd finally found my groove for the fourth case, playable from the perspective of the murderer. It was going well!

Then the MSPA Forums got hacked and the admins didn't keep any backups and everything was lost.

So that sucked! And once it became clear they were never going to recover the forums due to a mix of security incompetence and not giving a shit, I didn't really have a choice but to try and reboot it. I'd lost all the text, apart from a few garbled pages from a corrupted archive snapshot.

But... I've got way too much else I want to do at this point, and it's not looking too likely I'm going to have the time to come back to it. So if you want to know everything about what happened and where it was going...

You've clicked the readmore. So you do want to know all that. Here goes! Activate theme music.

You remember how it opened, right? It was a forum adventure, and at the time, I asked the readers to select an SHSL talent and gender as the protagonist entered the American branch of Hope's Peak Academy.

That was diegetic. "Alice Bayko" was an SHSL Impostor, or- I actually kinda waffled on having her not technically be SHSL anything, as she infiltrated the school with a false identity. She has, however, forgotten this, and her original identity and mission, leaving her with nothing but the mask. I believe there was a scene planned, or maybe a scene that did happen, I forget- where Alice would be called upon to demonstrate some sort of stage magic trick... and completely not know how to do any of that.

But what was she up to?

Well, that's a good question, with a complicated answer. Let's start pulling back the layers, here.

Seventeen students, and of the seventeen... somewhere between six and nine of them could be considered secret masterminds. Hilariously, I seem to have ordered this old banner issue in order of who's the most technically the ultimate mastermind, which was very cheeky of me. Would've been fun if someone ever caught that.

Let's start with...

Mastermind Level 1: Disguise

This creepy kid, SHSL Prodigy Billy Bookerton, was supposed to be the original secret mastermind in charge of the school. As came up in the adventure proper, this iteration of Hope's Peak was intended to be a safehouse from the ongoing despair apocalypse pictured in the Danganronpa canon. The son of the headmaster, he would control their Monokuma puppet and be in charge of faking to the outside world that this Monokuma-themed airship was in fact a murder-happy despair cult (like everywhere else on Earth somehow.)

This was not supposed to be a secret to the student body. And this 27-year-old man was not supposed to wake up in the body of a malnourished child and pose as a student. After events occurred, he found himself like this, with a note in his own handwriting instructing him to lay low and play this role.

What events occurred?

Mastermind Level 2: Blackmail

Also explained in the adventure proper, since these two were culprit and victim of the playable case 4: Gwendolyn and Ursula Schultheiss, SHSL Sysadmin and SHSL Retro Gamer nothing at all. Gwen was admitted to Hope's Peak on the basis of an actual talent, and pretty quickly gained control of their computer systems, sneaking Ursula in under the guise of Sakura Aran, and learning about the plan to escape Ultimate Despair by disguising the school and taking to the sky.

She thought that plan was really stupid.

Specifically, she thought Ultimate Despair was a flash in the pan, and it was ridiculous to think that some student riots all the way in Japan posed some sort of apocalyptic threat. (In her defense, this is a reasonable thing to think! It is ridiculous! Danganronpa's worldbuilding is fucking nonsense! But unfortunately for her, we're rolling with it.)

So she and Ursula hatched a plan to get rich. Hope's Peak is full of the progeny of the super-rich, like the Bright conglomerate. Obviously people like this would have loads of incriminating secrets, with which they could be blackmailed, and by which they would deserve to be blackmailed because screw those nepo babies. The plan was to run a Deception Game, not a Killing Game- they'd steal Billy's remote-control scary apocalypse terrorist, and pit everyone against each other in a contest to uncover each other's darkest secrets.

Once they had the dirt, they'd pretend to lose control and land the ship somewhere safe and sound, and Hope's Peak could deal with the scandal of the Monokuma hijacking and the consequences of their bonkers overreaction to some airhead fashionista's trendy protest.

If you recall, their plan went like this:

Each of them assumed that the other had somehow betrayed them and hijacked the school's systems on their own- Ursula retained control of the damaged Monokuma puppet, and Gwen retreated to her secret closet base to try and wrest control of the systems back from whatever super-hacker Ursula found to compromise her control. It took Gwen a few chapters (and accidentally murdering her sister) to realize that there was a...

Mastermind Level 3: Reality TV

It all started with SHSL Heir Henry Bright, heir to the Bright Conglomerate and active vice director of the company. Specifically, he directed vice. The Bright Conglomerate, in his opinion, did things too by-the-book, and were passing up big opportunities for growth in the organized crime sector. He was fostering connections with the Hit Deck (which led to the altercation that led to his and Dominique Martine's deaths in case 2), and...

Unlike Gwen, he didn't think the emergence of Ultimate Despair was nonsense. No, it was a growth opportunity. His plan was to invite a film crew to the airship and broadcast an exciting (fake) killing game to pander to this emerging despair-based market! With illicit funds provided by his contact in the Hit Deck (in exchange for his help securing a place on the ark for the Hit Deck's boss and trusted confidantes, posing as students), he assembled a team. Bribed some students, located an SHSL Doctor and some effects artists for realistic murder effects, did some networking, and...

...well, word gets around. The team he put together had bigger ambitions. A creative vision. One that had no room for executive meddling. They cut him out of the production team and forced him into the cast.

(I'm honestly not sure if this layer of convolution was necessary- I was on the fence about cutting him from the cast. The show's team might've found out about the school just because Gwen and Sakura screwed up the school's stealth measures. He's gotta kind of be there to explain the Hit Deck's presence, though, since aside from Dom none of them were actual Ultimates.)

Realer Reality TV

Before I reveal the members of the final mastermind tier, let's go over how they did this.

I never ended up using this portrait, but this is Davi Rossi, SHSL Doctor, though he prefers "Ultimate Necromancer". He's a graduate of the original Hope's Peak in Japan, and his technology is the cornerstone of the whole setup here- underneath the school, in the restricted areas in the body of the ship, he has a whole secret lab with vats of glowy chemicals and fancy futuristic surgical tools.

He can bring back the dead.

Well, sort of. He can do all sorts of repairs on ordinary tissues- lose a limb, get a vital organ mashed up, bleed out, he can fix that. He can make alterations to the body, too- such as surgically reverting someone's apparent age, or implanting remote-control death chips, or strategically weakening someone's skull.

He can even fix a certain degree of brain damage- the kind of stuff that might occur if you suffer blunt force trauma or total deoxygenation, where the brain is still mostly intact.

As a result, most victims are recoverable. When someone dies, he can bring them back again and again. However: he can't fully reconstitute the brain, and he has a number of limitations when it comes to working with it:

If the brain is completely torn apart or otherwise destroyed, he cannot revive the victim.

He can't directly mind-control anyone, nor can he insert false memories.

He can delete and rearrange memories, but not read minds, and memory deletion is episodic- he can't mess with specific facts, only spans of time.

I think I... also made an exception so he could delete specific people? Which is clunky and doesn't really make sense in hindsight.

There's still a lot you can do by cutting up and rearranging the filmstrip of someone's memory- but except in one specific case, he only ever really used it to delete the last loop.

In case it wasn't obvious, this isn't the first killing game. This show has multiple seasons. It's been going a while- and while injuries that destroy the brain are rare, they're not nonexistent, and so there's quite a few students who died before the story began. There used to be a lot more students! That's why all the dorm rooms have bunkbeds!

And there's also unfortunately the one who received a fatal injury in this loop by blowing himself up with an improvised explosive device. Sorry, Mill!

(There's actually only a few people physically present running the show, since the show's been running for years now and they found that they really didn't need more than a skeleton crew to run it- Davi and some student plants, along with Monokuma drones and countless hidden cameras, are all that's necessary for production on the ground. There's no adult film crew present on the ship.)

(♪ Kids with guns. Kids with guns. Taking over. But they won't be long. ♪)

Davi is also responsible for rigging up the masterminds with the mental control rigs for the two Monokumas- and has a third Monokuma of his own, who was going to show up to treat Martha's injury during case 4, I think in literally the very next update planned before the forums exploded.

So who are the people in control of these Monokuma knockoffs?

Mastermind Level 5: Case 5

All that I just mentioned about Davi? You learn about this in the fifth case, after case 4 in which you play as either Sakura or Gwen after killing their sister and trying to avoid getting caught in the trial. You can't win case 4, but you can successfully stall and bullshit long enough for the trial to be interrupted by a sudden explosion before you can be executed.

Prior to case 4, Billy has disappeared into a secret passage, trying to track down the mastermind. Likewise, Flopsy-Turvy, Alice's rabbit, has also disappeared into a secret passage. Billy remains missing during case 4's trial.

After the explosion, the Monokumas call off the trial and lead the whole class to Davi's secret lab, which is the site of a set of murders.

Davi has been murdered via various small lacerations all over his body, including a slit throat.

Billy has been blown to bits by an explosion.

If Gwen or Sakura was executed during the trial, their corpse is found on a table in the lab.

Flopsy-Turvy, who was a robot all along, has been reduced to mechanical smithereens.

Violette, not dead anymore, but unable to speak aloud due to an incompletely healed throat injury

Some completely unfamiliar redhead kid, who doesn't know jack about anything and doesn't know how he got here.

The two survivors of this scene are naked save for some towels they found, and appear to have been spilled out from a couple of big glowy specimen tanks which were broken in the explosion that killed Billy and Flopsy. More on them later.

The subsequent investigation reveals all that stuff I just told you about Davi, blowing the setup wide open. In the course of that investigation, two of the masterminds find themselves confessing their involvement. After all- Davi's dead. There's no way they can run another season without someone to bring people back to life!

One in particular confesses before the other one- she doesn't care anymore, and she's happy to watch her co-conspirator squirm to try to avoid revealing his evil machinations to the people he desperately wants to think he's cool.

Lilakali Bhallu and Raymond Rizzini are my favorites. They suck so much. They hate each other quite a lot, and have gotten together and broken up like three different times. Their collective theme song is No Children by The Mountain Goats. They're like 25 at this point, stuck in the bodies of the teenagers they were when the show started filming and they fully agreed to be part of the production.

Why? Well, Lilakali hates everyone and enjoys seeing them turn on each other like rabid wolves repeatedly- and Raymond craves acceptance and is using his memory privileges and surveillance abilities to try over and over again to be Popular In High School (to no avail.) They're both pretty pathetic people.

Notably, they are both real students who're supposed to be here. I don't remember if I ever had Lilakali make any predictions, and she'll insist she's just making shit up, but I was gonna have her predictions all come true, because the Fortune Teller thing is a real talent. And Raymond really can make a pretty mean burger. (Cheekily, that old Tumblr post was supposed to have taken place in a previous season- you might notice Gwen in the background, who in this iteration was never convinced to leave her room for meals, instead sneaking out at night to raid the cafeteria.)

Lilakali also has an Edgy Backstory- she grew up in the circus, apprenticed under her grandmother, who refused to let her socialize with kids her age. She was supposed to learn the family divining techniques, not dance around like some harlot with a pack of urchins! Her grandma taught her to hate the world, and herself, and accidentally also her grandmother. One day, in a moment of perfect nihilist clarity, she took a Sixlizard cigarette lighter out of the trash, wandered amongst the tents, and burned down the entire circus, killing her grandma in the process. She looks back on that moment fondly as the happiest she's ever been.

Anyway. Those two are my favorites, but they're not the ultimate masterminds. In fact... they're quite sure there's supposed to be a third mastermind, and they suspect this third mastermind of having erased their memories of them and killing Davi. They can tell their memories were edited- they're fully aware of how the tech works and what the signs are, and they can tell there's big ugly gaps and gashes in their recollection of the past. Someone was missing, and Davi was being all cagey and weird about it. And last loop...

Well, what happened last loop is the direct cause of case 5. And at the end of the investigation... the two Monokumas go dead, and one giant Monokuma shows up, furious that Davi is dead and forcing the students to go to trial one more time. This will be the final execution- catching Davi's murderer.

Mastermind Level 6: Sailing No More

It doesn't take long into trial 5 for the identity of this giant Monokuma to be revealed- it's a mechsuit with a living person in it, not a robot, and he unmasks himself during the trial without too much objection once people start questioning... that confused redhead kid who they found at the crime scene. That character introduces himself as... the Super High-School Level Pilot, Nolan Cubbins.

Wait. What?

Didn't that guy die?

Well, you see--

--oh, shit, I forgot Tumblr has an image limit of 30 images per post. Uh, gonna have to break this up into two posts. Continue reading here!

#bullet proof #bullet proof spoilers. like all of them

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artzychic27 · 9 months

Text

I just feel like blurting stuff

So, another au by yours truly. Nath used to compete in pageants and won many of them

He first started competing when he was six, just for fun

He got his hair styled a bit, his mom found a few nice outfits, and they didn’t expect too much… But then Nath ended up winning, so his mom signed him up a second time since it seemed like he enjoyed himself. Plus, she’s putting that money towards school, so… Yeah

Alix is the only non family member who knows about the pageants and refuses to let him live it down. But in private since he doesn’t want everyone at school knowing

He keeps his life as a Pageant King under wraps by going about his school life as his “shy artist” self and then wowing the judges with his amazing talent on the piano, cello, violin, harp, flute, and acoustic guitar (Evillustrator confirmed Nathaniel is good at music)

By the time he turned ten, he’s already won forty five pageants

With his victories comes a few people under the guise of managers trying to mooch off of his success, but Aya keeps them at an arm’s length. The pageants are quite enough and she doesn’t want her son’s face plastered on every ad

There are a few photos in a couple of magazines, but that’s just to recap the pageant, any celebrities who attended, and announce the winner

To balance school work and practice, Aya’s sister, Laney, home schools him when it’s pageant season, and her brother, Lance, helps him practice for the talent portion

The teachers know about him competing in pageants and slip him a few high fives when he returns to school after winning

His secret nearly gets out a couple of times when the class questions him about his hairstyle and why he’s gone for a few days during the school year, but he’s got a few excuses prepared thanks to Alix

Marinette: Why does your hair look so nice?

Nathaniel: Oh, so the class introvert isn’t allowed to look presentable once in a while?

—

Nino: Since when are you so good at the piano?

Nathaniel: Well, maybe if you paid attention, you’d know I have skills besides drawing.

Now he’s fifteen, won 97 pageants, and is ready for number 98

Also, his classmates have had enough. They went to know what he’s been up to for the past few years, becuase he’s definitely not telling them any time soon

They’ve tried going to Alix, but she’s remained tight lipped and won’t give into bribery

Everything eventually comes to light when Adrien’s been selected as a celebrity judge for the Adolescent M. Paris Pageant

Adrien invites the class along, barring Alix since she’s out of town visiting family and had no idea what they’re doing. They’re just walking around and venue, meeting some of the competitors who all look nervous for some reason because of who’s here

Alya: Wait, who?

Competitor 1: Only the actual threat here! Have you all been living under a rock?!

Competitor 2: I hear he’s playing the cello for this one, and he got his suit custom made from Milan. There’s real diamonds on it!

Competitor 1: That’s nothing. I heard he went to a private dentist to have his teeth whitened so much that the shade of white can’t be found on any color swatches.

Competitor 3: And he got his lips tinted.

Kim: Can we have a name, or-

Competitor 3: No! We do not summon him! I’ll be damned if that little weasel steals my crown again! Where the hell is my bronzer?!

Now the Akuma Class is intrigued, just who is this threat that has every guy on edge? Before they can ask around for a name, the competitors are all called to the stage, so they take their seats

And there on the stage, they find Nathaniel in the lineup

At first, they think, “Oh, he wants to come out of his shell and compete. He couldn’t have picked a worse time. He won’t stand a chance against whoever everyone is so threatened by. We should comfort him when this is over.”

To their surprise, Nathaniel acts as if he’s been doing this for years, walking with perfect posture and speaking clearly during the Q&A portion

During the intermission, they head backstage to get some answers

Nathaniel: I don’t know, because it’s kind of embarrassing. I just do it so my mom can put the prize money toward school. And did it really take you guys ten years to figure it out?

Akuma Class: …

Nathaniel: Right. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get my cello.

Chloé: Wait! You’re the threat?!

Nathaniel: If that’s what everyone’s been calling me, then yeah. Look, I’m on about ten minutes, so I suggest heading back to your seats.

He only amazes them even more when he plays Paint It Black on his beautiful red cello

They’re not even shocked when he wins. Of course, one or two people take pictures to send to a mass group text, so Nathaniel had something to look forward to at school

He’s mobbed by guys asking for his number, popular kids inviting him to sit with them at lunch, and girls asking who does his hair, but he’s having none of that

They wanted nothing to do with him until it turned out he’s been in magazines and looks attractive without his dark clothes, so he wants nothing to do with them

He gives a few practiced responses to his friends congratulating him on winning and turns down Adrien’s Gabriel’s offer to model for the brand, and Marinette’s offer to model some of her clothes for her website

In his words, “My body’s not for sale.”

That doesn’t stop a familiar limo from pulling up to him

Gabriel: M. Kurtzberg-

Nathaniel: I NEED AN ADULT!

Gabriel saw the pageant from the comfort of home as a scout for the winner, and is now trying to get Nathaniel to model for his brand. He’s got a better chance than Bob Roth, that’s for sure. At least Nathaniel makes eye contact with him

Anyway, guys are still trying to pick Nathaniel up, and it’s getting really annoying, so he hides out in the basement during lunch hour where he meets Marc Anciel and prepares for shallow compliments

He just offers him an apple

Nathaniel: You’re not gonna try to flirt with me?

Marc: Well, someone’s full of himself.

Nathaniel: What? No, it’s just, every time I turn a corner, some guy is asking me out with roses and talking about how hot I look just because I won a pageant.

Marc: That was you? Wow, you are… Not what I was expecting. I was expecting a better haircut and designer clothes.

Nathaniel: Hey!… Thanks for treating me like a human.

Marc: No problem. Congrats, I guess? What is this, your fifth win?

Nathaniel: Ninety-eighth.

Marc: … You like AO3?

Marc and Nathaniel start spending a lot of time together, which gets some people’s attention, and they suspect he’s a gold digger, but Nathaniel shuts that down quickly and calls certain people hypocrites

Marc even introduces him to his classmates who aren’t completely starstruck by a 98-time pageant winner. They ask a few questions, but he doesn’t mind answering

One time, Juleka invites Nathaniel to the Liberty, because according to her, Luka wants to see up close how good he is at the violin. It leads to a competition where Juleka swears she saw smoke rising because of how fast they were playing

Anyway, it’s not long before Marc and Nathaniel start dating after Marc gets him to safety from some guy who refused to take a hint when Nathaniel said no to a date with him

That’s it

#SoundCloud #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #pageant king au #marc x nathaniel #mlb au #felt like blurting this #random post #akuma class

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prpfs · 3 months

Note

✨Howdy!

19, he/they.

I am searching to do a oc x oc rp!

M/M is preferred but I may consider any other pairings.

So like, I had this silly idea that I would love to rp and see where it goes and the ideas my partner and I could come up with!

It’s a sort of zombie apocalypse setting. Let’s say it takes place a few years into the apocalypse and the virus has mutated significantly to where animals, who normally just carried the virus and infected humans, direct contact not needed. The animals themselves weren’t really infected so they wouldn’t go through the infection stages as humans.

However, due to the virus mutating, animals now get infected as humans do. Once they turn, they become your basic zombie but predators were especially aggressive while prey were average.

Now, not only do humans have to watch out for the infected but zombified animals as well which made it pretty much a pain to hunt as the animals could be infected and if consumed, well the person or animal alike would get infected and turn.

The virus mutates again and so not all people that get bit by an animal turn into a zombie..not totally anyway. They are infected, yes, but don’t really rot per se. They remain mostly human but to a degree as the animal that bit them plays a huge part. The infected person starts gaining characteristics and features. For example, if an infected bunny bit a person, that person would start to grow bunny ears and a tail. Basically a hybrid of sorts.

After word got out of that happening, hybrids were being hunted for “sport”. At first, it was just for safety and protection and out of fear, but afterwards they would seek them out to kill them.

Mainly those that were predator hybrids, such as wolves, bears, etc were killed the most as they 1. Had characteristics and features of predators and 2. They present the infection (dulled eyes, dark veins etc and we could even come up with this together) unlike the prey hybrids who don’t present the infection and are able to hide it.

Because of this fact, people stopped hunting prey hybrids as they foolishly began to believe that prey hybrids were immune to the virus and were harmless.

In reality..it was the prey that became the bigger threat than the predator. Most predators were rather tame and harmless but because of their appearance were hunted for sport while preys, under the guise of innocence and naivety were the real threat and killed people, whether cannibalizing or not is up to us but for me personally, I would love it if we could use the whole “cannibalism as a metaphor for love” as I have some ideas for my oc (obv my oc won’t kill yours tho-) but if that's not your thing we don’t have to add it!

Predator hybrids may look more like a zombie but its the prey hybrids that truly act like it.

Nsfw is welcomed but not necessary.

Like and I’ll reach out!

give a like and anon will get back to you

#oc roleplay #oc rp #dead dove

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edgelordfinalboss · 1 year

Text

For @softchonk since you asked for more vampire cowboys 🤠💫 Hope you enjoy!

Part Two: Outlaws Of Santa Carla (The Lost Boys Fanfiction/Western American AU Fanfiction) 🤠🦇✨🖤

Dwayne didn't know the future.

Yet those who thought that he truly could read a set of well illustrated divination cards bought into his predictions.

The stagecoach driver would find gold.

The rich woman with the hideous ostrich feather hat would birth the child of a millionaire who would come to invest in the biggest cattle stock of the US.

Overwhelmed with fool's joy, they'd bought it and allowed him on the stage passing through the outskirts of Santa Carla, the current location of the man that caused most of the bitter hatred that lived in his heart for the mass majority of his depressing childhood, wishing to know more about his heritage.

"Where are you from, Mister?" The rich woman he believed that he heard being addressed as Clara leans in, elbows dug deep into the fine silk and cloth fabric of her skirt. Her golden curls fall from her bun.

He didn't want to explain the complicated details out of fear that his cover might be blown. He was a lost boy after all, a runaway but what would it matter if he was approaching eighteen in only two days. The mystery that being under the guise gave him was too good to forfeit now. Mystery would be his friend.

Clara reminded him much of the women who would show up to his orphanage in the place of their husbands, parading about in handsome gowns and fake smiles that came at cost of having their names broadcasted in the daily print. He was never adopted simply because of his refusal to conform to their standards, to rid himself of the heritage, of blood that he knew was inside of him. He was of indigenous descent and wanted to know more. He refused to cut his hair and be like them. There was no way that he would allow them to take that from him.

"Does it matter where I come from if I know where I'm going?" Dwayne had taught himself how to make his voice as soft as duck's down, wrapping all those who listened to him in his binds. "For people like me, we go where our intuition drives us."

"I suppose." She winks her eye, the aquamarine eyeshadow shimmering in the light of the sun.

Dwayne turns towards the glass outlook, curling his fingers into the metal. The stage was far from what he was used too as the bars and glass reminded him of a cell and the gentle rocking shifting to massive bumps giving him the premonition that he's on a boat about to sink. Outside, long gone was the endless slopes of golden sand and stretches of nothing as it had become healthy grass patches, tall fences and uniquely American architecture. Pristine white houses dot the land, horses who've never missed a meal and children running and playing among the gathering of pine trees.

"Do you suppose that I'll birth a boy and girl?"

Dwayne doesn't draw his eyes from the beauty of the higher class homes, their dream worthy drawn carriages and the pastel colors that kiss the eyes. It's all so beautiful, yet, none of it seemed to call him like an outside looking in.

Clara clears her throat pressing against her cameo choker.

"The child will be a female."

"Then who will keep up with the investment?" She tries to hide the panic in her voice at such a revelation. "A woman bidding in stocks or keeping up with the numbers in cattle. How preposterous."

"She will be strong enough to handle it." Though he could know less about what the future holds, he felt a burn of annoyance at the woman's thinking.

Determined, Clara pushes against Dwayne. "Maybe I will try and by the grace of God, he'll allow me a son. Just like in the good book with Moses and Hannah."

Dwayne lifts his chin, hair falling in sheets from around his neck. "Tarot isn't known to run hand and hand with the bible. You will bear no sons."

"Maybe you should give the cards another read, just for the sake of-."

The stagecoach jolts back, nearly knocking him clean from his seat. The driver gives a sharp yell, stopping the horses as they snort and pull against him, kicking their hooves on the ground in an odd rage.

"Just because a male is born it doesn't mean that he won't be an addlehead."

Dwayne stands up, tipping his hat to the lady who doesn't say another word. Her eyebrows knit as the predictions of Dwayne of being a millionaire's wife seem to no longer carry as much weight as heavy as birthing a daughter.

"Be careful who you trust and the very best of luck to you, whatever you do with your fortune."

Leaving out the red door with nothing but a pack of cards and a will to find where he belongs, a strong fear fills him as he watches the horses in their madness, pulling and pushing with a strength that he never witnessed among the animals. The stagecoach driver seemed too focused on his whip, yelling demands that seem to carry no weight to say his goodbyes.

"What is this?" Dwayne, confused, steps onto the dust street. Instead of a home sits a building bigger than any he'd seen his life. This was no home, it couldn't be. He had heard rumors that his father was wealthy, but this wealthy? This madness!

Massive stone walls arch towards the hills, dipping below in the distance. Gargoyles hang above three stories of large windows plastered against brick walls. Pillars hold lions snarling at the entry gate that hold not a single crack or error. Perfection.

A shadow appears from the base of the gate, towering above Ambrose from behind the bars. "What brings you here to Atlantis Hotel?"

Dwayne's entire being could be swallowed up in the man's shadow, his face pressed into his skull and eyes huge. Meeting his eyes, he could melt in both the man's harsh glare and the heat of the summer sun.

"I'm looking for someone."

The guard's eyes knit together. "So is every other man."

"But I am the exception, Sir. I have coin to pay for my stay while I go about my adventures finding this special someone in their child's game of hide and seek."

"Coin?" The man barks. "You'll need more than a coin to get in here."

Dwayne smiles, trying to recall all the smooth interactions that he had seen men in the town use to make the bartenders give them free refills. Even if it doesn't work, he would have to try something.

"Of course." Dwayne places his fingers through the gate bars. "Coin is simply play money for men like me."

"You mean boys?"

Ambrose reaches into his pocket, revealing a rolled up fold of money. The roll, despite being large, wasn't filled with money but playing cards covered by one dollar bills.

The man's eyes nearly bulge at the sight.

"It isn't much but for some men this would be much more than poker money." He had repeated the entire conversation from something that he had overheard before on the streets between the cry of buggies wheels and horses.

The gates open and like a charm, Dwayne walks through the gates. With a flick of the brown tie that binds the money together, he frees a few dollars bills won from an earlier game at the last saloon he'd visited. It wasn't much but enough to buy him a room for the next day. Enough to help him find his father.

"We have beaches." The large man drones on, his sharp and overbearing attitude long gone.

"That is Santa Carla's speciality." Dwayne says blankly.

"And great fishing waters if that is much to your liking."

Dwayne stops, his eyes surveying the man. He has the upper hand now. "Do not kiss the ground that I walk on. I am not the president but a mere man blessed with money. Know your worth."

"Of course." The man pauses before lifting his finger to gather Dwayne's attention again. "Have you heard about the vampires that roam this town?"

Dwayne, drawn in by the silliness of the statement laughs. "Yes. I am one of them."

The design of the inside is far beyond his dreams.

Everything is more grand than the next, striking him as more of something that belongs to the future rather than the present of 1870. He couldn't find the words to describe the anger raging inside of him at the sight.

This is what my father owns. This is what he had and he pushed me away because of who my kin is, because of who he once loved. He was ashamed for nothing.

"Greetings, new commer." A voice calls from the top of the staircase. "You look quite young to be here. Rich father? Mother inherited a will or something more?

Nothing stands among the gold railing. A cold wisp of air swings past Ambrose, drawing him back. Taking a stance against whatever it could be, the owner of the voice lays idly against the counter of the lobby, pale blue eyes looking out. White blonde hair glows in the light of a oil lit scone in the shape of a majestic lion. A rather handsome young man, but it was no way that he could be older than him.

Definitely not who I'm looking for. He thought with disappointment.

"Cat has your tongue?" He croons, his voice deep.

Dwayne shakes his head. "No. I'm just taking in the designs."

"Really?" He turns his head, pushing his hands into the pockets of his tartan button up to revel a short writing quill.

Dwayne felt a burning sink through his chest. This person was toying with him.

"My name is David and yours?" He asks, reaching for a gold bound notepad.

"Dwayne."

David snickers. "Surely you have a last name?"

"I do."

"What might it be?"

"Stephans."

David smiles with his teeth, lowering his eyes in a near animalistic way. "You share a last name with our owner, Dwayne."

Dwayne could bite through his lip. "What a coincidence."

#paul the lost boys #dwayne lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #alex winter #the lost boys paul #tlb 1987 #the lost boys dwayne #lost boys paul #the lost boys #the lost boys david #the lost boys marko

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eruden-writes · 2 years

Text

The Unexpected Human Problem - Part 20 (Yautja x Human)

Early chapters available on Patreon for my patrons! ;)

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! ♥

☆ ☆ ☆

Summary: The night her abductors die, Rayelle finds herself running for her life. She doesn’t know where she is, what is following her, where to go. All she knows is she’s not on Earth any longer and the thing chasing her has the capacity to kill.

Tai'dqei never anticipated finding a human when he took the job of tracking and subduing a small contingent of smugglers. It was only when the human attacked and fled fled, Tai'dqei - hopped up on the euphoria of a successful hunt - gave chase, instinct burning at his center.

Will sense return to Tai'dqei before he catches Rayelle? Or will Rayelle be subjected to the yautja’s natural inclinations?

And what happens afterwards?

☆ ☆ ☆

I’m sorry to be contacting you so soon. It’s probably my imagination but…

Something doesn’t feel right.

I think most of the staff are androids, made to look human. But there are other staff. Alien staff, which strikes me as strange, since you weren’t allowed on planet.

I also see non-humans late at night, after staff SUGGESTS we get some rest. I don’t know if they’re staff or visitors. They don’t wear Rerli uniforms.

But I’m catching sight of more of them at random intervals. There’s a buzz in the air, like something big is going to happen, too. Like an event or something.

Something feels wrong. I don’t know how to explain it.

It’s probably nothing. I’m sorry. I’m probably bothering you. Maybe I’m just having a hard time adjusting.

I hope you’re doing well, wherever your line of work has taken you.

Sorry, again, for bothering you.

~ Rayelle.

With a heavy sigh, Rayelle threw her arm over her face as she laid on her bed. There, she sent it. And she felt like an awkward teenager for it.

Or maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, making her see concerns that weren’t there, because she was desperate for a reason to contact Tai’dqei. How many times had she, in the past, reached out to someone under the guise of another issue? Although, to be fair, this was a genuine issue causing her concern.

Rerli Resort had provided everything it said it would, including personal rooms for individuals.

Rayelle’s room was a gentle blue, currently. She could change the color with the console on the wall, though, which seemed fairly anachronistic for the 2020s, but she wasn’t going to complain. Overall, the room reminded her of a hotel room. A large plush bed, a desk - equipped with a computer - and a desk chair. In one corner, there was a chair and a table, presumably so one could read. She even had her own attached bathroom with a shower.

The first morning she had woken up there, she almost thought her whole excursion with Tai’dqei had been a dream. A very vivid, oddly detailed dream.

Of course, then Jezika popped her head in, to offer their newest resident a cheerful ‘good morning’ and all dream assumptions fled.

“Finally wrote him, eh?” From the floor, at the foot of Rayelle’s bed, Lisa laughed around her gum. It was hard to acknowledge that, by all technicalities, the young woman - with her cherry red hair and studded denim jacket and fishnets - was older than Rayelle. At least in the respect that Lisa was born in the 70s and had been a teenager in the 80s. Well, in the US.

Another thing Rayelle had learned while residing in the massive resort was the fact all the humans - men, women, and non-binary - had come from some stage of the United States. Whether it was the pre-colonial Indigneous land, the Colonies, the US, or a later iteration of the country.

Theories had flown around as to why that was, but no one really knew. It seemed the resort was made for many more people, but fewer than 100 had arrived. Of course, Rerli was a new establishment, so perhaps that was why?

Rayelle had a growing paranoia that the reason why they were all from the US had to do with who had been snatching them all, though. She worried their captors shared more than just a proclivity for kidnapping.

From the desk chair, which had been turned to face the other people in the room, Sandra chuckled. She was a housewife, abducted from 1956, with carefully coiffed hair and a penchant for blouses paired with long skirts. A light floral scent always wafted from her. In her hands, she worked a piece of knitting with her needles. “You have certainly agonized over that missive since you arrived!”

“It’s difficult,” Rayelle groused, faint heat nudging at her cheeks but not quite coming to the surface yet. It was a little aggravating to be teased so relentlessly from a housewife and a punk, but that was her life at the moment. She shrugged and sighed, a dollop of resignation in her voice, “He’s probably halfway across the universe.”

Though she did want to message Tai’dqei since setting foot at the resort, her reasons for doing so expanded the longer she stayed. It wasn’t simply her missing Tai’dqei, but a gut feeling that something was wrong. Though part of her still struggled against that instinct, believing she was just looking for any reason to reach out to him. It was a struggle against herself.

Before the other two could reply, one of the android staff poked their head into the room. A quizzical look passed over their features after a beat of observing the three women. “What are you three doing here together? You’re from highly disparate decades.”

One of the few ‘guidelines’ of Rerli 3: Stick to your era.

It was a rule few abided by, much to staff frustration. Some decades had far fewer people though. It was unfair to isolate the few from other eras, simply due to potential anachronisms. Besides, it didn’t seem there had been any successful return stories, from what Rayelle churned up. Which meant no one returning to their home could blab about the ‘wonders of the future,’ whether near or distant.

Then again, the resort was new. Maybe there were successful stories of return trips elsewhere.

“What do you need, Jane?” Lisa asked with a tinge of irritation, her nose wrinkling as she popped her bubble gum.

Forgetting the transgression, or maybe simply not caring - as far as an android can care, - Jane made a delighted sound and clapped her hands together once. “There are guests who wish to make your acquaintance.”

“Guests? Are they non-humans?” Rayelle pushed herself into a sitting position, trying to stifle the way her heart jumped. There was no way Tai’dqei could have gotten there so soon, right? So it had to be someone else. That itch of concern started to weasel its way into her thoughts.

“Yes, isn’t that exciting?” Jane’s smile didn’t falter, her eyes not blinking.

Rayelle narrowed her eyes. The other two human women in the room exchanged glances, apparently already aware where she’d go with this. “What happened to not allowing non-humans here?”

“I haven’t the slightest what you mean, Miss Brooks,” Jane replied, no hint of deception in her voice or her features. Although, maybe she was programmed not to show either. Jane folded her hands in front of herself, primly, still sporting that spotless smile on her pink lips. “We hope to facilitate strong bonds with non-humans here, in case our residents can’t go home.”

Residents. Not guests. Rayelle narrowed her eyes, not really enjoying how her mind gnawed on the distinction of those two words. Sandra shifted in her chair and Lisa snorted, both swathed in the same aura of uncertainty that Rayele felt.

“What kind of… aliens are there?” Sandra was the one to ask, fumbling over the word aliens. Rayelle didn’t know if it was a novel word or simply her own personal experiences making it taste bad on Sandra’s tongue.

Not picking up on Sandra’s distaste, Jane twittered excitedly, “Oh, an array!”

“Yautja?” Rayelle asked, unable to stop herself. Maybe Tai’dqei had gotten into the heads of the androids, altered their programming. Maybe he petitioned whoever ran Rerli 3 for access. Maybe, maybe, maybe. A billion wishful thoughts spun about Rayelle’s head, knowing they were all unlikely.

“Of course not!” If it wasn’t for their situation, Rayelle would have found Jane’s scandalized tone and expression funny. “They’re too much for humans’ delicate sensibilities.”

Rayelle sucked on her teeth, before hazarding a tentative guess. “Florizian?”

“What a good guess!” Jane’s delighted tone felt like a punch to Rayelle’s gut, knocking her breath out for a moment. She wished the android had visited before she sent the message to Tai’dqei. Then she could have told him, warned him what was going on. Who was likely behind it all.

“Tell ‘em to come back later.” Lisa’s brusque voice caught Jane’s attention, the android turning a perturbed look to the red-headed punk. Waving her hand, her plastic bracelets rattling on her wrist, Lisa added with no less bite, “I don’t feel like meeting anyone new today.”

Jane seemed about to say something when Sandra, with her working knitting needles jittering a little more than earlier, sighed, “Neither do I, I’m afraid.”

“Me either,” Rayelle chimed in, leaning back on her hands on the bed and crossing her legs. She and Jane locked gazes, across the small distance between bed and entryway. Calculations, considerations, and - perhaps - a fight between original programming versus new flickered behind Jane’s eyes. Rayelle waited quietly, hoping she’d be proven wrong.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter. Our guests are sizable investors to our organization,” Jane finally answered with a sigh. She stepped to the side, motioning to the hallway where two aliens finally emerged. One had long, wiggling tendrils - like Zav - and the other had four multi-faceted eyes and strange solid-looking growths from their cheeks. Both were built like tanks, though.

The air in the room stilled. One side, thick with distrust. The other firm in their sense of complete control. Only Jane, who appeared unaware of the quiet clashing of forces, made a gesture to the two aliens as she continued to speak to the humans, “You will be escorted to the assembly hall with everyone else. Please, come along now.”

With that, Jane happily flounced from the room, leaving humans and aliens to leer at one another. Rayelle considered refusing to move, but Sandra sighed and put her knitting away into her bag. The housewife stood, dusting off her skirt.

Sandra shot Rayelle and Lisa a look that read ‘let’s get this over with’ and, quietly, the two women followed her lead.

—

Apprehension lit hot and heavy in the air of the assembly hall. As per everything else in the resort, each decade had its own auditorium to keep inter-decade mingling to a minimum. However, it seemed they shoved all available humans into the 2070s hall. Likely due to the heightened tech and plush seating available.

Jane had gathered more humans since retrieving Rayelle, Sandra, and Lisa. It seemed as if she was just going door to door, herding who-so-ever was around. With the number of humans, the number of non-human escorts also expanded.

By the time they made it to the assembly hall, there were six non-humans and nearly twenty-five humans. No one spoke, considering every time they did, one of their escorts would gargle or growl or snarl at them.

An alien, that reminded Rayelle of a cross between an octopus and a shark, stopped Jane’s troupe near the entryway. They regarded a holoscreen in tentacle-y hands. “Do you have guests TDA2G, TDA3K, and TDC8P?”

Rayelle thought she could hear the whirring of mechanics in Jane’s head, before she eventually said, “Yes, I do.”

“Those’re Zav’s dibs,” the alien gurgled, before rushing to intercept another group. Another non-human shuffled into the spot Octo-Arms had left empty. This one was purple, blue flowers blossoming at their temples and vine-like hair pulled back into an elaborate pile atop their head.

“What an honor!” Jane crooned, as she turned to her troupe. She pointed out the three humans, bouncing on her heels with delight, “Bette, Rayelle, and Mizan, you’ll be going with this lovely Florizian gentleperson.”

The two others - Bette, a 1940s factory worker, and Mizan, a scholarly young man from the 2050s - dawdled in the safety of the group, until Rayelle stepped toward their new escort. Bette and Mizan followed her, both staying behind as the Florizian led them away. Rayelle tried to shoot them both assured glances, but Bette’s features remained stony and Mizan looked about ready to faint.

The walk wasn’t a long one, but it did lead them to a more secluded area of the resort. It was a wing where basic administration and offices sat. Though as Rayelle traversed it, she realized it had changed since her first entry, five days ago. Cubicles had been torn out, desks shoved to the far walls. A number of aliens lingered about, some lollygagging as others moved with the purpose of a job.

Into one of the larger offices, the three humans were led. Other humans were led in, as well. Presumably from different herding groups. Faintly, Rayelle wondered what they were intending to do with the humans left behind, in the assembly hall. Her mind took her to too dark of places to focus on.

Instead, she turned her attention to the desk, behind which a figure familiar to Rayelle stood.

“Ah, good, my darlings have arrived,” Zav said, when one of the Florizian who escorted the humans to the office got his attention. He turned, all smiles and charm while the vine-tendril hair wiggled with delight. He stood tall and lithe, dressed in a nice enough suit. Rayelle couldn’t help but picture how that smile could easily turn into a snarl, with so many teeth.

“Let me take a look at you all,” he nearly purred as he rounded the desk and approached the roughly twelve humans in attendance.

All of them stood to attention as Zav approached, noticeably uncertain but spines straight. He tilted his head this way and that, drinking in the details of each person and occasionally touching them with a hair vine. He’d mutter instructions to another Florizian, a smaller one that tailed at his heels, but Rayelle couldn’t catch whatever he said.

The longer the inspection went on, the more the humans lost their cool exteriors. Mizan’s shoulders arched to their ears, their lips pressed together with anxiety, while Bette glowered, with her arms crossed over her chest. Others fidgeted or tugged on their clothes. Rayelle tried to school her expression into neutrality, cover any inkling of recognition in her eye as Zav stared at her.

His hair wavered atop his head, before he traced a single tendril down the curve of Rayelle’s jaw. It felt velvety soft and pliable, but cold. She braced against the vine, waiting to feel a thorny bite. “And you are the one who’d been traveling with a yautja, yes?”

“That’s right,” she answered, forcing herself to remain still under the touch. Her eyes angled toward Zav’s face, hating that she had to look up into their features. Their dark eyes surveyed her for a moment. They were unreadable to her, though. She couldn’t begin to imagine what Zav saw in her, what he thought of her.

“I do hope he didn’t tarnish you,” he finally said, another brush of the vine coasted over her cheek to her chin and down her neck. A normally gentle action felt oddly like spiders, crawling over Rayelle’s skin.

Her brows furrowed at the assertion, a frown threatening to tilt at her lips. “What do you mean?”

“Well, your importance to me is for the revitalization of the Florizian population.” He patted her cheek, his hand falling from her face. With narrowing eyes and a double-edged smile, Zav added, “Can’t do that if you’re carrying a litter of yautja spawn, can you?”

A litter. That was curious wording. Rayelle stowed that away for later contemplation and, perhaps, to ask Tai’dqei if she ever saw him again.

She chose not to focus on the implication of those words. Still clinging to her sense of calm, since she suspected it wouldn’t last, Rayelle managed to evenly reply, “If you’re asking if I had relationships with my traveling partner, I didn’t.”

“That is good to hear!” That edged smile softened into one of actual delight. Pity that he was a piece of shit, Rayelle realized, since the expression was actually almost sweet.

“I also don’t intend to be a Florizian broodmare,” she added, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin. At her sides, her fists clenched, her fingernails digging into her palm to keep her from trembling.

The Florizian before her blinked, owlishly. Behind him, others shifted awkwardly, aware of how the air around their boss dipped dangerously. The delighted smile was short lived as another, colder grin took its place. “You won’t be a broodmare. More like a greenhouse.”

Rayelle rolled her eyes at the wordplay. As if he could turn this into a cutesy exchange, when he was about to force the humans into perpetual parental servitude. “My tubes are tied. No babies for me.”

Before she could register movement, one of Zav’s hands whipped out, grabbing her forcefully by the chin. A startled sound choked in her throat as his other arm looped around her back, pulling her closer to him. His hold was bruising on her face.

“Do you really think we can’t reverse that?” Zav sneered down at her, vines waggling in cruel amusement. A long green tongue flickered out from between his lips as he stared down at her, his teeth glinting in the brief moment his mouth opened. “Pity about the pheromones, though. That was more for your pleasure than anything else, but we’ll make do. Won’t we?”

He squeezed her cheeks, demanding a reaction or answer. A dull throb ached through her jaw as her heart pounded. Rayelle shot him a squinty-eyed, sarcastic smile as her hand moved carefully to her hoodie pocket.

It hadn’t taken a rocket scientist to feel the shift in the resort’s atmosphere, two days ago. Nearly every human noticed it. A few had mentioned the androids acting strange, as well. Others had mentioned actually seeing unfamiliar non-humans loping about. Two humans had gone completely missing, the staff unable to account for them, even in their own records.

Suspicious, Rayelle had spoken to others - revealing to them what Tai’dqei had told her about human breedability - and they decided to prepare for the worst.

Anything that could be used as a stabbing or bludgeoning weapon, that wouldn’t immediately be noticed as missing, was gathered. Knives and meat tenderizers from the kitchens. Scissors, knitting needles, woodcarving kits, and x-acto knives from the craft areas. Though the gardens had provided the most, with three-pronged cultivators, sharp edged trowels, shears, clippers, and even scythes.

As far as anyone could tell, the staff hadn’t noticed at all. Which led to the bolder thefts. Shovels and automated knives and saws and anything that could feasibly have a use to protect themselves.

Larger items were hidden around the resort, in places humans could flee to. Smaller items were kept on their persons.

Such as the hand cultivator in Rayelle’s hoodie pocket. Zav seemed too intent on snarling into Rayelle’s face - perhaps imagining what he would do to her - to realize her movement. She quickly withdrew the three-pronged weapon from her pocket, swinging it up and into the side of the Florizian’s face.

Zav let out a shriek of shock and pain, as the satisfying squish of metal sunk into flesh and eye. As he shoved her away, Rayelle kept a tight hold on her weapon and it shlucked out of the side of his face. Dark green spurted from the injuries, sticky like sap. A scent like cut grass - but heady - filled Rayelle’s nostrils as she stumbled back.

At her attack, the others instantly followed suit, pounding and stabbing into any alien who had the misfortune of being close enough. Bette, armed with a knife and a metal pan - wherever the hell she managed to carry that - as a shield. Mizan with their taser in one hand and a knife in the other.

The room erupted into chaos and screams. Rayelle hoped the others could hear back in the assembly hall or that they had already begun their own escape attempts. It hadn’t been a perfect plan, but hopefully the others figured out what was up and used their stolen goods to escape.

Stunned guards took a moment to react, before rushing toward the sharps and electricity. Green and red blood splattered, though more of the former spilled than the latter. Rayelle spun toward the door, absently slamming her cultivator into the back of another Florizian’s head; one that Mizan had been struggling against with his knife.

“Let’s go!” Someone yelled heading for the hall, slamming through the door and into the corridor. High on adrenaline, and taking advantage of the shock, all the humans rushed from the room, scattering in the hallway. As Rayelle raced with Bette and Mizan, others met up with them, in similar states of bloody, bruised disarray.

She thought to do a headcount, but there was no time. They had to get to the 1950s bomb shelter or to the 2170s radioactive shelter. There were a number of smaller holdout spaces, but most of the supplies, first aid kits, weaponry, and communication tech had been stored in those two places.

The longer Rayelle ran, the more shrieks, the more screams she heard. Alarms started blaring through the resort, flashing red and angry, as the far-off sounds of booted footfalls and barking orders echoed.

Trash cans and laundry carts and supply stations were overturned, to hinder alien pursuers. Anything that couldn’t be nailed down was thrown in the way.

Ungodly howls lit behind Rayelle and she couldn’t help but look back.

Zav was there.

Or she thought it was Zav. It was hard to tell. He’d grown and his tendrils had overtaken his body. He was a writhing mass of teeth and vines, one eye glowing and the other a bloody hole. Judging from the hate filled glare, pinned to her form, it was definitely Zav.

Her legs carried her faster, her heart stuttering as her lungs ached for more breath. She was close to safety. Others were already in the shelter, waving others in and screaming for laggers to hurry up.

Rayelle’s heart twisted. They had all agreed, if necessary, the doors would shut even if some were locked out. There was hope they could flee to another, smaller hidey hole or the vents or even the outside.

They were banking on the fact their reproductive capabilities were too valuable to destroy.

But they all knew it was a gamble.

Rayelle hurtled over the threshold, with two others, before the door slammed shut. Spinning around as the locks chunked into place, Rayelle peered through the porthole - heavy glass that would deflect bullets or, presumably, lasers - as the solid door vibrated with impact. Something big and angry and vicious howled and pounded at the door. The door shook in its frame, but the metal held firm.

She stood, staring at it as her chest heaved with panting breaths. Her lungs ached and her legs twinged. Faintly, she felt the pain where Zav had held her, along her jaw, flare. It was probably bruised.

But they had done it. At least for the moment, they had managed to rebel and get away from the aliens. The alleged ‘investors’ of Rerli 3. Likely also the aliens that had funded so many lives being ripped away from home, to begin with. Though, it wasn’t just Florizians, a small part of Rayelle realized. There had been other non-humans, ones she didn’t have names for.

Shaking her analytical thoughts away, Rayelle turned to the innards of the bunker. “Was that everyone?”

“No one was locked out, if that’s what you mean,” replied Abe, an older man who Rayelle suspected was from the 1930s, judging by his attire.

It had been somewhat surprising to find men at Rerli 3. Though, after some thought, Rayelle guessed there were aliens out there needing sperm, just as much as eggs and incubators. Or maybe there were non-humans that incubated via the men.

She nodded and muttered a thanks to Abe, before glancing over the assembled people, crammed into the room. Not everyone got away in one piece, she realized. Quite a few people sat on the floor, as others tended to their medical needs. Quiet sobbing and whimpering filled the room.

Rayelle tried not to fret or worry about familiar faces she didn’t find.

Even if everyone couldn’t get to the bunkers, they had mapped out a number of other decent hiding places. She just had to hope everyone had gotten somewhere safe. Even if those other areas weren’t stocked with as much food or intense weaponry.

With her heart still pounding, Rayelle glanced at her wrist gauntlet. Her fingers shook as she pulled up the communication app, the one she had sent a message through to Tai’dqei earlier.

Had he seen her message?

Had he replied?

Was he coming?

Her stomach sank as a ‘No Satellite Connection’ error flashed on the holoscreen.

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tobiasdrake · 6 months

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Before we continue, Desuhiko has a new Hangout to attend as well.

YES. FINALLY, I got to eat at the hotel's diner. Only took several murders to get here.

Wouldn't have thought Desuhiko would be my ticket to diner food but here we are.

REALLY, DESUHIKO?

I can't escape it. Even in the Hangouts that are supposed to be about Desuhiko, he's still only interested in shilling the game's main ship. I'm pretty sure Desuhiko has had more lines of dialogue about Yuma/Kurumi shipping than Yuma and Kurumi have.

Which, to be fair, isn't hard since most of Yuma and Kurumi's shipping moments have consisted of awkward pauses and blushing at each other.

You know what I would like more than a Gumshoe Gab with Desuhiko about how Yuma's totally feeling feelings oh so very much for Kurumi? A set of five Gabs for Kurumi where they get to be sweet and romantic together. But we can't have that, because then Kodaka would have to write romance instead of regurgitating the same lazy pining cliches that everyone uses to talk around their own subplot.

Writers give so few fucks about their obligatory love interests that they'd rather give us an intimate private conversation with Desuhiko about Kurumi than an intimate private conversation with Kurumi.

This is why all of the most popular ships are gay. That's what audiences take away when characters only get to express themselves on a personal level with their same-sex besties. Frodo and Samwise are the ship because nobody gives a shit about Rosie Cotton. Why would they?

Sorry. I aggressively hate the Stock Romance Tropes and it's triggering for me. What were we talking about?

We're supposed to be like "LOL That delusional Desuhiko" but it's not like Yuma and Kurumi's relationship has had much more development than that.

We talked about this before with Desuhiko's aspirations to be a star. He has low self-esteem and is more interested in the validation of having people adore him than he is in cultivating an artistic talent.

His skirt-chasing is very much the same. He's not chasing skirts, so much as he's chasing the optics of masculinity. He doesn't have a type because it's not about the women; It's about the image he projects, but to others and to himself.

That's why he was so inexplicably well-behaved at Aetheria Academy. A "comical pervert" in an all-girls' school is a scenario ripe for raunchy shenanigans, but the worst thing Desuhiko did was get on stage to try and play guitar badly to a captive audience. A lot of "comical pervert" type characters in his position could have taken far more advantage of this scenario, especially from the guise of an authority figure. But he didn't. He was. Chill. About the whole thing.

We violated the girls' privacy more than Desuhiko did.

And despite having the ability, there's no indication he's ever gone back. He's instead resumed his standard practice of accosting random women on the street to go, "Hey baby what kind of man do you like" and then fucking off.

I don't think this is about women. I think it's about Desuhiko, a boy with low self-esteem who craves external validation, trying to feel secure in his fragile masculinity by projecting the image of a Ladies' Man. The larval form of a PUA.

It's 'cause your heart wasn't in it, my dude. Trust me, I've been there. If success with women causes you to have a panic response and want to be anywhere but here, it probably means you don't want to be here.

Could be you're gay. Could be you're ace. Could be your interests in women aren't as universal as you've convinced yourself and you do, in fact, have a type. Could even just be that the surrounding circumstances made you feel uncomfortable.

Desuhiko writes it off as "Oh, I just hate northern accents" and. Sure. Maybe that's it. But it's nonetheless a chink in the armor of his playboy self-image. He had his chance and couldn't bring himself to take it because when push came to shove, he wasn't interested. He only wanted to look like he was.

This is the part that PUAs don't like to talk about. "The Game" doesn't make you happy. You listen to Manosphere bros talk about women for five minutes and you quickly realize that they are miserable. Even when they're successful, they aren't having any fun. They talk about sex in clinical terms, describing it as "inserting a rod of tissue" or calling it "not an especially pleasing activity".

Imagine dedicating your whole life to the pursuit of something you don't even enjoy. Desuhiko had his shot, and he got a taste of how miserable it feels to have your relationship with another human being reduced to Insert Tab A. He may regret it now, but the fact that he freaked out and bailed on that situation rather than grit his teeth and forge his way through means there is hope for him. He may yet avoid a redpill future.

And also, I'd be remiss not to bring this up, but good on him for getting out of that situation. A "stunningly beautiful" woman who's VIP enough for the WDO to provide her with private security, something that is very much Not My Job? Sounds like a grown-ass woman to me. And she was constantly hitting on him, to the point that he regrets "having his chance" and panicking?

Desuhiko is like 14. He doesn't know it but he escaped the clutches of a predator.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code #desuhiko thunderbolt

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yyumemika · 1 month

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A Premature Burial Episode 7

A Premature Burial

Episode 7

Season: Winter

Characters: Mika, Shu

Mika: Even if yer tellin’ me to do my best… Wouldn't it be better if I could give him a luxurious funeral?

Shu: My grandfather’s request is plain and simple.

First, each family member is going to submit their “best funeral plan” one by one.

My grandfather will then choose the most extravagant funeral among them, and he will perform the chosen living funeral.

That’s all there is to it, so to speak.

Although it's extremely impudent. It seems designing and selecting outfits appropriate to the project is no different to the work that we often do.

Mika: Haha, that’s why it’s a “funeral contest”…?

Shu: Yes. It's a general assembly by my grandfather, for my grandfather, to think about his own funeral.

I suppose it's just like my grandfather to make everything a fuss.

Honestly, a funeral should be conducted solemnly, not turned into an event that one looks forward to.

By the way, those who proposed my grandfather's chosen funeral, in other words the contest winners, will receive a generous reward.

In his own words, it will be the largest amount ever paid.

Because this is his final play, all of the remaining selections will be performed on a grand scale.

Mika: Is it really okay to decide on who gets the inheritance like that?

Shu: That's exactly what one would expect from my grandfather's insight. Most of the spoils have already been distributed among the family members during the past games.

It's hard to express dissatisfaction if it's a win-win situation.

And under the guise of a joke, my grandfather distributed his own enormous inheritance while he was still living.

Fairly, equally and appropriately.

Mika: Haha... I can't really think of anythin' to say but, he's an important guy ain't he.

Shu: Yes, well, he is a great person whom I respect very much.

In any case. Although it's said the performances will be grand scale, if you look at the overall perspective— That's just a small bonus.

That’s not to say it’d be a problem if we weren’t to get it. I want it because it’s a big deal.

Even though I’m shunned among my relatives for being unusual, I’m proud to be the one that understands my grandfather the most, who is similarly non-conformist.

No. I, Shu Itsuki, am the most suitable to be my grandfather's successor.

I want to be the one to receive my grandfather’s final gift.

Mika: I see. Ya don’t gotta worry.

‘Course, I’ll cooperate an’ give it my all too. Although it’s obvious, I ain’t never planned a funeral on my own before—

Is it really okay if I don’t know what I’m doin’? It ain’t really the same as our usual stage plannin’ is it?

Shu: No, but the thought process is the same as usual. Think about it that way, we are planning a stage for my grandfather's funeral service.

The leading part of that performance is my deceased grandfather. The audience that gathers will be everyone involved who wishes to have their final interaction with the lead actor, in other words mourners.

Even though this is an extremely private matter. It’s no different to the structure of being an idol, and the fans that gather for them.

Mika: I see… ‘Course, since it’s a funeral it’d be better not to have stuff like flashy smoke-burnin' or spotlights.

Shu: You would think. My grandfather likes flashy things… Ultimately it's my grandfather that chooses, therefore it’s a must to analyse his preferences and make calculations.

Mika: No matter what ya say I still don't know yer grandfather very well.

Shu: That's right. You need to start researching from the beginning in order to understand the organiser's preferences.

It's an unfamiliar behaviour to me, who is always imposing my own preferences and my own circle.

You're always getting frivolous work, so you should be accustomed to it.

Please teach me how these things are usually done.

Mika: Ah, okay. I see, so that's why Oshisan asked fer my cooperation.

Shu: Of course, I have faith in your craft and sense after all. Don’t misunderstand, you’re no longer a marionette— You’re an artist and my equal.

Working together as a group as always, let’s create the best funeral.

Mika: Yeah. It really does feel like an unreasonable demand huh, ain’t there limits whether it’s art or a funeral?

Shu: That’s right. Moreover, there are a few troublesome circumstances involved with this project.

Because of that, discussions within the family became complicated, and it took me some time to return home to you.

Mika: Troublesome circumstances…?

???: “—I should explain from here on out.”

Mika: Nnaaah!? Huh, what? Mado-nee— That ain’t right, the Mado-nee look alike spoke!?

Shu: Perhaps I should introduce you. I’m yet to comprehend it myself.

The mysterious person talking through this adorable doll claims to be my grandfather’s illegitimate child.

Mika: Illegitimate child!?

Shu: I suppose to me, he’s my uncle. I’m not sure if it’s his real name or not but he calls himself Rafaello.

Rafaello: “Fufu. Nice to meet you, I’m Shu’s uncle, Rafaello.”

Mika: Eeeh…!?

#raison d'etre #ensemble stars #enstars #shu itsuki #mika kagehira #english translation

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66-bl1tz-kr13g-fr1tz · 1 month

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//The Wire//2030Z March 20, 2024//

//ROUTINE//

//BLUF: FRANCE THREATENS DEPLOYMENT OF TROOPS IN UKRAINE. CLINTON AIRPORT DIRECTOR SHOT IN ATF RAID.//

-----BEGIN TEARLINE-----

-International Events-

France: Over the past few weeks, wide swings in rhetoric have called into question France’s intentions in Ukraine. Largely arising out of confusing and contradictory statements between President Macron and senior defense officials, France’s official policy regarding the potential deployment of French soldiers to Ukraine has not been clearly outlined. However, recent statements by senior defense officials indicate that France may potentially send up to 20,000 soldiers to Ukraine.

-HomeFront-

Arkansas: Yesterday one ATF agent was shot while attempting to serve a search warrant in a dawn raid at the home of Bryan Malinowski. During the exchange of gunfire, Malinowski himself was shot in the head, and is currently on life support. The cause for the raid has not been made public. AC: Malinowski is the Executive Director of the Bill and Hillary Clinton National Airport in Little Rock. He has been affiliated with the airport in varying capacities for over 30 years, and was appointed to his current position in 2019.

-----END TEARLINE-----

Analyst Comments: In Europe, NATO members have expressed inconsistent policy stances as it becomes increasingly obvious that Ukraine is losing the war. As such, the atmospherics around the issue have rapidly shifted from “we would never consider sending NATO troops to Ukraine” to “we’re looking at only sending 20,000 French soldiers”. The expediency of this rhetoric shift indicates the severity of the situation. Of course, even considering this new rhetoric, the overall situation does not change that much. The most loosely-guarded secret of the war is that NATO troops from dozens of nations have secretly been fighting in Ukraine (in limited roles) under the classic guise of being “advisors”. Since the first day of the war, it is almost certain that American “advisors” secretly were running the show at most echelons of military command. If France were to openly send tens of thousands of troops to Ukraine, the military value of this would be negligible at this late stage. However, France may be trying to maneuver Ukraine into a better negotiating position by doing so. War is indeed a continuation of politics by other means, however special talents are required to make the inverse true and use the threat of war to force a better political position. As such, the open discussion of sending NATO troops to directly fight Russia in Ukraine is likely to cause difficult questions to arise; questions that the prior secrecy afforded ignorance of due to political leadership and diplomats not understanding the severity of the games they are playing.

Analyst: S2A1

//END REPORT//

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abbatoirablaze · 2 months

Text

Down The Rabbit Hole, Chapter 13

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: sexual situations

Abed couldn’t help himself as he heard the piano.

The study group had all but agreed that they weren’t going to be going near Mr. Radison, especially while he was trying to recruit them for the Christmas Pageant, but something deep within Abed called for him to go towards the cafeteria.

He didn’t expect to see you laying on the stage, singing half-heartedly while Mr. Rad was playing. And he certainly didn’t expect the sight to pull at his heartstrings.

He hadn’t really spoken to you since he’d asked you to officially leave the group, and everyone in it. You looked as lonely as he’d felt, knowing that the group was going their separate ways for the holidays.

“What are you still doing here?”

You shot up, pulled from the dreamy like fog that you’d been introduced into when Cory began to talk to you about when you’d been an emergency substitute from the year prior with the rest of the study group.

You had originally been lost in your thoughts, seduced by the promises of being with the study group, under the guise of being the emergency substitutes for the Glee Club for the Christmas Pageant.

Until you saw Abed.

“I-I should go,” you said quickly, shaking your head at the music teacher, “I’m sorry Cory. I’m not interested. But I hope that you find someone in time. The Christmas pageant is always a lot of fun…and it’s a good practice run for regionals.”

Mr. Rad frowned, but continued to play as you scurried off. He looked over his shoulder at Abed to answer his question, “I thought I’d give her one more tinkle, before I took down the decorations. No Glee Club means no pageant. That means no Christmas. Miss. Michaels seemed to have been considering my offer, but there’s no Glee Club with just one person…and from what she was saying, you in the group may have lost your cheerful spirit with her.”

“Who would have thought if you’re trying to make things better, it just would’ve made more darkness.”

“That sounds like a certain ex-lawyer talking. Was it him that got rid of her because she’s got a free spirit lurking beneath all that work ethic?” he asked. Abed cocked his head to the side as Mr. Rad turned more towards him, “You know, I see a lot of myself in you, Abed. You care about your friends. And you wish that they cared more about each other. I was just talking about that with Tawney before you came in. You know, that’s not an easy position to be in sometimes, choosing between your own happiness and the happiness of others…but she seemed resigned in wanting to make a certain someone happy with her...”

“Tell me about it,” he huffed, “I just want my friends to have a Merry Christmas.”

“Well…maybe you could start by giving them the greatest Christmas gift of all…”

“What’s that?”

Mr. Radison smiled as he began to sing, knowing exactly how the study group was going to fall into his trap.

All because of a very vulnerable Abed Nadir.

“Mr. Rad plans on getting every single member of our study group to join the Glee Club!” Annie said as she disappeared behind a curtain to change into a costume. Jeff’s brows furrowed as he looked around, surprised that he’d been brought to the costume department.

“I don’t know how that’s gonna happen!” he said softly, “not only do we all have plans, but all of us seem to be in agreement that we don’t want to do that stupid pageant…so I don’t get how it could work.”

“It’s a great plan that Mr. Rad set up. Here, ’ll show you!” she said openly, stepping out from behind the curtain in a Mrs. Claus costume complete with black thigh highs.

His eyes went wide.

“Wh-“

“This is just one of the many costume changes I’ll be doing for the show,” she said quickly, playing with the bottom hem of her dress, “we’re a shoo-in for regionals, right?”

“Annie, you too?” he asked, stepping forward, more confused now than ever, “this is beneath you! You are an intelligent woman. Also, you’re Jewish!”

“I guess I have a lot to learn about holiday tradition then,” she said innocently enough, while putting a boa around her shoulders. She began to shimmy against the curtain as she started singing, “teach me how to understand Christmas.”

“Annie…”

She moved to the fabric cart and pushed it over towards him, before grabbing a bolt of fabric and holding it in front of her pubic bone, “show me how to open a box.”

“Annie…stop…”

“It hurts my little head, when I’m lying in my bed, with visions of sugar plum socks?” she sang.

“Is this a bit?”

“Teach me how to understand Christmas,” she smiled, walking him back to the chair and sitting him down. She wrapped her boa around his shoulders and stepped between his legs, “do I trim the tree, or the deer? I can’t keep it straight, and now it’s getting late. Where do the stockings go? HERE? I can’t see!”

She put the stocking over her head, before pulling it up into a hat, “what’s a Christmas eve? Is that Santa’s lady? Or snowmen cold or hot? Won’t you be my daddy, I’m a silly Christmas baby. Tell me what to deck, hehe. Cause I forgot.”

“Annie, get off…I’m with Tawney!” he said firmly, shifting so that he pushed her off his lap.

“OOOF!” she hmphed, falling to the floor. She turned around and crawled on her hands and knees, bucking as she went, “brain hurty undie-stand-y Cwistmas. Mistletoe for eaty taste good?”

“Annie stop!” Jeff demanded, slapping the mistletoe out of her hands.

“You smarty, me dumb! Help pwetty have fun. Boopy doopy doop boop sex!” she exclaimed, grabbing the front of his head and pulling it towards her chest while she straddled his leg.

“Eventually you hit a point of diminishing returns on sexiness.”

“What’s a dimini-“ she began, but ended up babbling as she played with the hem of her dress once more.

“Annie…this isn’t working on me…” he sighed, gently guiding her back off his leg, “I-I’m with Tawney. She’s my girlfriend, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I-I’m in love, and I don’t want anyone else other than her. I’m in love with her! And you can’t break that up, or try to get me to join Glee Club with some half-witted attempt of sex appeal…”

Annie stared at him blankly as he stood up and he removed his hands from her, “you’re a sweet girl…but this-it’s not what I want.”

Jeff sighed contentedly as his arms pulled you even closer.

“Jeff…I-I have to go…”

“But baby, it’s cold outside…” he hummed against your ear. You closed your eyes, and snuggled into him, not entirely wanting to leave yourself.

“I really must go!”

“Baby, it’s cold outside!” he hummed yet again, pressing a series of kisses down your throat. Your eyes opened as you realized he wasn’t just responding to you.

He was singing.

You could hear him humming the melody.

“Jeff…”

“Mind if I move in closer?”

“Jeffrey…ar-are you singing?”

He continued to hum happily against your side.

You didn’t want to fall into it.

But the warmth of his fireplace against you, combined with the warmth radiating off him. It almost seemed like too much.

His lips covered yours as you whispered your answer and began to hum along to his melody.

“We’re a shoo-in for regionals, Tawney…”

Chapter 14

Tag List: @lohnes16, @mckeeee-1

#down the rabbit hole #greendale community college #greendale #community show #troy community #abed community #community #troy and abed #abed nadir #troy barnes #pierce hawthorne #shirley bennett #annie edison #britta perry #jeff winger

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