#eviscerated worms

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

listen I know a lot of science YouTube is trying to be respectful or whatever since it’s recent however I would love to see a step by step cgi rendition of what happened to the Titan. I know what happened on a technical sense, but I like to physically see it.

#Iirc they found parts of the bodies SOMEHOW #so I wonder how much forensics can be done #between that and the wreckage found #rubbing my hands together #I love when scientifically fascinating deaths happen to people I don’t fundamentally have to care much about #so I can focus on the science of what happened to their bodies #It’s not like they suffered anyway #the Byford dolphin incident was fascinating however those victims were working class and didn’t deserve their fate #but Stockton #Stockton I can use as a lab mouse fully ethically #I want to know what specifically happened to his worm body down there #yes yes extreme pressure from air and water plus extreme heat eviscerated him #I know #but I would like to see it happen #even just in a simplistic simulation approximating the event #I’m very curious how human bodies are undone by something like that

[midnightwind]

started a short fic with an enby Tav about how people call Astarion spawn and leech instead of by name a lot because I got Feelings over it

#me holding up a nonbinary Tav: they're so demi and it's causing problems with the local vampire #got a brain worm over how like everyone in the game basically spits out the word spawn at Astarion and it Went #we're at a pretty 3k words right now and I still got some steam #it'd take place in Act 1 after gathering up all the potential party and mucking about the area #so they've spent a few weeks together #also hey I love Shadowheart she was just the most willing to clap back at Astarion in the over world for me #I struggle with Lae'zel writing but eventually! I hope to get better #because otherwise she'd be the one eviscerating him #tentatively calling this blurb the Power of Names

[duckapus]

Worm, Glitch, and the First Four

Figured out who made Mira and why, and there's a lot of backstory to get through for it.

So years ago, before Admins were a thing, the computer multiverse was terrorized by a powerful program named Worm and his army of viruses. The most powerful of his creations was Malware, who's code was so destructive it damaged any program she touched (aside from Worm, who had of course made himself immune), whether she wanted to or not. And, as it turns out, she really didn't want to, and absolutely hated her creator for making her unable to safely touch anyone else.

Unfortunately she figured there wasn't really much she could do about it, since with strongest ability rendered useless she didn't stand a chance alone and there was no way anyone would trust a virus, let alone one he made. That is until she met a red Doomguy recolor who was willing to hear her out, since he wanted to get rid of Worm as much as anyone else and would gladly take any chance he could find. The two started travelling the multiverse together, looking for a way to destroy Worm, and eventually came across a sentient seach algorithm calling himself Dave.

He claimed to know of a warrior by the name of Matrix who might be powerful enough to take down Worm, and the three of them set out to find this warrior. As time went on, the three of them became good friends, and Malware decided to change her name to Glitch as a way of separating herself from her creator.

When they finally found Matrix, they discovered that they were actually a fusion between two programs named Chip and Bandwidth, which was interesting but not particularly important at the time. What was important was that they were willing to help, and the five (or four depending on how you count fusions) set out to Worm's domain.

While he was initially dismissive of them, they proved to be formidable opponents, but it wasn't enough. Dave was knocked out, Red Doomguy severely injured and slowly dying, and Matrix split, when Worm finally decided to rip the very source code out of his rebellious creation. In their last moments, she and Doomguy reached out to each other, finally giving Glitch the friendly contact she'd wished for for so long, and their mangled code merged, creating a new, vengeful program who dubbed himself Antivirus.

He tore Worm to shreds using a mutated form of Glitch's power and a whole lotta guns, stripping him of all his power and leaving only a few stubborn lines of code to flee in terror into the deepest, darkest pits of the internet, and in the aftermath the four friends received notifications that they'd been accepted as the replacement Administrators of the now empty realm. They agreed to use this new authority, and the power that came with it, to repair the damage Worm had caused and lead the multiverse into a new era of freedom.

Still, they knew that while they had won the war, there was still a chance that Worm might regain some semblance of his old strength, and decided to add more administrators to their number, eventually resulting in the Admins as we now know them. Very few of the modern Admins are actually aware of the story of their founding, or that Chip, Bandwidth, Dave and Antivirus were the founders, though they do know that the four of them have been around way longer than everyone currently on staff.

All this to say, Worm is the one who created Mira. It's the first step towards getting his revenge since he's still not powerful enough to either make anything stronger or take the four of them on himself and he damn well knows it.

(hope it's alright that I messed with Antivirus's backstory like this @forthedancingandthethriving)

#smg4 #smg4 ocs #oc lore #worm #glitch #doomguy #dave #chip #bandwidth #matrix #antivirus #mira #red doomguy #since he was the one who originally had the administrator status worm could be seen as the unofficial first admin #antivirus is full of hate and made of love #and i think that's neat #tfw you die alongside your first ever friend only for both of you to merge and be reborn as someone new #who then proceeds to eviscerate your shitty dad/murderer as his first action ever #in case you think that dave being absentminded is due to his age...no. he was Like That during the pre-admin era too #plus the other three don't have that sort of problem #the four of them are still pretty close but they work in such drastically different departments that few admins know they're friends at all #antivirus technically has glitch and red doomguy's memories but he's a very different person from both of them #so they're considered mostly separate from his current memories

[wordstome]

symbiote König x reader

I'm not allowed to start any new aus/stories until I finish a few, but I need to expel these worms from my brain. (also remind me to write something about Eddie Brock/Symbiote Ghoap x reader later)

I don't know if you guys know much about Venom lore, but symbiotes don't have a default system of morality: they take on the same traits and moral values as their hosts. They were created as a sort of world-conquering mindless evil force, but when symbiotes bonded to hosts who wanted to do good, they took on those moralities and became ashamed of their purpose. After they imprisoned the dude who made them to be evil (Knull, btw) they just made up a lie that their species was naturally benevolent.

So picture this: symbiote König who's been captured alongside several others of his kind and brought to Earth by the Life Foundation to study their abilities. I like the idea of symbiote König being similar to Eddie Brock's Venom: he's had bad and good hosts, but the bad ones fucked him up really bad, so now he's the König we know: arrogant and confident in his proficiency in violence, but deeply awkward, lonely, and lost. Getting kidnapped and taken to yet another foreign planet to be poked and prodded and experimented on is just his luck.

But then there's you. A pretty little scientist, not much more than a lab assistant, really. Your first encounter with him consists of you touching a finger to the glass of his prison, and him, curious, moving himself to press his inky dark goop where your skin presses against the glass. You giggle before quickly remembering yourself and skittering away. Symbiotes aren't fond of sounds, but he wouldn't mind hearing that one again...

It's little encounters like that that endears you to him. It didn't take him long to decide he hated humans: they're slow and unintelligent and nowhere near as elegant of a killer as he is, and yet they've managed to trap him and torment him. He's quickly noted as being the most unpredictable and violent of the captured symbiotes. But he likes you, who visits him and talks to him. To you, it doesn't mean much: you may as well be talking to a lab rat, finding an outlet to vent your frustrations about your insane work hours, demanding managers, and meagre pay. To him, he's absorbing everything you tell him, longing to touch you without glass in the way. What would it be like to bond with you, he wonders? To merge symbiote with flesh, and become two moving as one?

He'd like to be inside you, in more ways than one perhaps.

He may have fucked that up, though. It wasn't his fault, that day. They were starving him, these idiotic humans, starving all of them. He had no choice but to eviscerate and wholly consume the poor man sent into his glass cage. But you had been watching, eyes wide in terror, as blood and viscera burst everywhere. If he had a heart, it would have ached as he watched you skitter away...

And yet...there may be something deeply wrong with you, just as there is something wrong with him. Because you're back the next day, a new fascination in your eyes. Instead of talking at him, you talk to him now, asking him questions he only wishes he could answer. If he could just reach you, he could communicate...

König gets his wish the day it all goes awry. A whistleblower breaks in and makes off with one of his breathren, and the next person to stumble upon the scene is his little scientist, who doesn't hesitate to start smashing the glass of his prison. "It's not right," you mutter over and over again. "It's not right..."

He can detect your heartbeat speeding up as he drags himself across the floor to reach you. You shy away out of instinct, and he pauses. There are alarms ringing out now, awful terrible loud sounds, and he would prefer to get out of here immediately, but he refuses to do anything that would drive you away for good. He watches as you heave a deep shaky breath, then reach out a hand to him.

He glides up your hand and wrist, working his way into your body, the symbiosis instant and easy. You're a perfect match. He knew you would be. The armed guards burst through the door, but you have nothing to worry about as he envelops your body. You become a six foot ten behemoth, face hidden by what almost looks like a veil—something he picked up from a former host. You're barely aware of what's happening, too overwhelmed and confused to parse what's going on. But he knows what he's doing.

After he gets you to safety, the two of you will have all the time in the world to get to know each other.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig #konig x reader #konig x you #könig cod #konig cod #call of duty #cod #wrote this at 4am forgive me if it's not up to par #2am thoughts #symbiote au

[noncompliantcyborg]

#tumblr polls #polls #marine life #sea creatures #tag yourself #science #marine biology #ocean #ctenophore #larvacean #siphonophore #sea urchins

[piratefishmama]

Beware the Thorns

(a NSFW multi-part ficlet)

In many in journalistic circles, Eddie Munson, was Steve Harrington’s partner. The eye candy on his arm, cool, indifferent to everyone, he didn’t stray to the cameras for his five minutes of fame, he breezed by them as if he were just… better than them.

He was beautiful, skin like pale porcelain, dark curls full of lustre, and volume, dark doe eyes mysterious and inviting, broad shoulders, slender waist. His body only ever donned in the most expensive of dark fabrics, Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Dolce, nothing touched his skin but perfection.

To those who knew him better, he was Eddie Munson, professional escort, his services were expensive, he catered only to the rich, but he was good at his job.

Services included attending events, non-sexual but intimate bathing, the ‘boyfriend’ package, something Steve had been paying for, for ooooooh two years now? Long distance work, sex… sex was usually a given according to MOST people, and they did like to try and argue for it being included in the price of something basic, but Eddie charged more for it, and was often coy and promising enough to make them wait for him if he wanted to hold off.

And boy did he have them on a hook when he held off, the hunger to sink into his pert little ass keeping them paying, and paying, and paying for his time, for his presence on their arm. He was worth the wait, but he didn’t want to give in too fast, less they cut ties after getting what they wanted, they were his business, he had to keep them wanting.

He was a long game escort, he wasnt a wham bam ka-ching thank u ma’am/man kind of deal, wasnt a one and done sex worker. He put more time into it. He put serious effort into it. He was good at it.

He even had his own website.

Granted the website was listed as something else entirely so you had to know what you were looking for because wow, some of it was illegal, but word of mouth got him around more than enough to keep the lights on in his Indianapolis penthouse apartment, it was cosy, had everything he needed.

It helped that his clients were LOADED. One had to know where to go to get those big bucks, had to know which big fish to dangle the worm in front of.

He’d dangled that worm in front of Steve Harrington while on the arm of someone else, there were… rumours, of his sexuality floating about, stories from his high school years, that one gay bar he’d been spotted in with his friends, the way he’d touch pretty men, and look a little longer than necessary at things a straight boy shouldn’t be looking at while high as a kite.

He just hadn’t come out yet, at least, he hadn't until Eddie had been seen on his arm at a charity gala, having appeared to jump ship from the arm of the Hagan boy somewhere behind the scenes.

Nobody could get a word from the sole heir of the Hagan Hotel fortune as to what happened either, lips were zipped shut on the matter, he hadn't even tried to smear Eddie's name which some journalists found. Strange. Given Hagan's verbal evisceration of his previous exes.

Tommy wasn’t… bad, per-say.

He could be sweet when he wanted to be, but he rarely wanted to be. He was also overconfident, he lacked the ability to hold insults to himself, and had on more than one occasion called Eddie a useless whore in a fit of anger over some such nonsense.

So. Eddie cut those ties at the first big fish opportunity.

He was one of Eddie’s… longer lasting clients though, the half a year he spent seeing him regularly was… sometimes okay, the sex was fun, access to the good drugs was awesome since Hagan didn’t shy away from them, and he got paid nicely for his time, but he was glad he didn’t have to spend all his time with the man as an actual partner would have.

Probably would have strangled him by now.

Steve Harrington wasn’t like him though… Steve was his favourite client.

~~

Eddie Munson had waltzed into Steve Harringtons life with all the ease and grace of a man who’d lived in wealth his entire life.

Like a rose he was beautiful, but hidden beneath the pretty petals there were thorns to consider.

He wasn’t truly his, and therein lay the thorns. He was paying for the privilege of his company, paying for him on his arm, paying for him to breeze by flashing cameras in fancy suits, paying for him to act the part of a loving, attentive boyfriend for the paparazzi trying to catch a glimpse of his love life.

It was easier to pay a professional, than allow a civilian into his life.

It was easier to bring Eddie home with him, watch him waltz around his living room in his tailored semi-sheer silk button-down shirt, tucked neatly into his black Gucci tux trousers, his blazer left draped over one of the chairs, it was easy watching him sway, the twinkle of his draping silver chain ear cuff catching the light from the lit lamps amidst beautiful dark curls, his slender hips swaying to the quiet music Steve had put on that evening after a long night of schmoozing with the press, with his peers.

People who probably knew who Eddie truly was, but… were tight-lipped enough not to spill the beans, because blowing that whistle would of course shine a spotlight on how they’d know.

It was safer for them to just smile and nod.

It was easy, joining him, slipping behind him, and pulling him close, ass to groin, trailing kiss after kiss down his warm, smooth neck, hands on his hips easing him back, into him, close to him in a slow, rhythmic grind of intent.

Easy to convey what he wanted to a professional, knowing he’d get it.

It was easy to lose himself in the idea that this man was his to take to bed, and because he wasn’t truly his, but an employee…

It was easy to let him go in the morning, his wallet some three grand lighter, depending on what they did the night before… it was easy… until it wasn’t easy anymore.

Until the brief press of lips to his forehead as he feigned sleep in the morning, and the soft rustle of his wallet being rifled through for the exact amount owed and nothing more, because he’d long since told Eddie where he kept it, and gave him permission to just take what was owed and go if he had to go.

Until all the things he’d found so easy about Eddie’s presence in his life… stopped being easy for his heart to ignore.

The soft press of lips to his brow in silent goodbye left him wanting nothing more than to pull his beautiful porcelain rose, thorns and all, back into bed and demand he stay just a few more hours, the feel of his body pressed close in the night, curled under the Egyptian cotton sheets with him, had him lying awake at night longing for the sun to take just a little longer to rise.

Eddie Munson wasn’t his. Not really.

And maybe, maybe he figured, as he slipped on a pair of dark leather gloves for his early Monday meeting, the touch of his hired lover still lingering on his skin, the bruising hickey the brunette had left during the night, before disappearing before dawn as he KNEW Steve had an early meeting, knuckles cracking as he flexed them within the reinforced gloves.

Maybe, he figured as the iron knuckles embedded in his gloves met the soft, weak, easily breakable jaw of the latest person to cross him and his business partners, the sickening crunch of bone breaking beneath skin...

Maybe Eddie not really being his was a good thing.

That didn’t stop him, or his heart, from wanting.

It being a good thing didn’t stop his hands from dialling those digits he’d long since memorised, he didn’t even need them saved in his contacts, he had them, the only number he’d ever memorized, he had it there by pure muscle memory. A number carved into his very soul.

Sometimes even if he wasn’t trying to call the brunette, his fingers would dial as if his heart had simply taken over his mind when it came to him. This time however, he purposefully dialled.

After cleaning his hands of the sickly, dark red that’d stained them, gotten under the fabric of his gloves and ruined them, he dialled, knowing that when his addiction answered, and he always answered… everything would feel okay again.

The racing of his heart would slow, calm would wash over him like waves slowing their turbulent rolls after a storm had passed.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite person in the whole wide world~” his voice thick and throaty, he always sounded so fucked out when he answered the phone, like the strongest whiskey mixed with the finest of honey. Steve knew this wasn’t a greeting purely for him, Eddie didn’t save numbers, he didn’t to keep his clients safe in case the police got hold of his phone, and he sure as fuck didn’t speak like that in private, he’d heard Eddie in private…

Heard him when the brunette didn’t think he could hear, when he thought Steve to still be in the shower, he was on the phone to someone, probably a friend, who Steve didn’t know but definitely not a client, Eddie always sounded different when speaking to a client… somewhere deep down… Steve almost wished he had that relationship with him instead. Almost.

He did wished he could see the real him, hear the real him instead of this imposter, instead of the façade he put on, it worked for him, fuck did it work, he could fuck his own fist for hours just listening to that voice, but… he wanted more, he’d wanted more for some time.

But he’d take what he could get. If all Eddie would give him were an imposter, then… an imposter he’d take. It wasn’t as though Steve were being truly honest about himself either.

Thorns. So many little thorns.

“Flatterer” he hummed, earning a deep laugh from the speaker that had his heart thump against his ribcage, fuck, he didn’t deserve that laugh, didn’t deserve the warmth it filled him with, a man lay broken not far from his feet, blood pooled around his head, barely alive, he didn’t deserve the warmth Eddie gave him.

But he’d greedily soak what was offered up.

Eddie didn’t seem surprised it was him either, which was nice, it made his greeting seem all the more real, he just… adapted, quick as lightning “as if you don’t deserve it, are you gonna be home tonight, baby?” Deep down he knew this wasn’t Eddie… deep down there was a fiery, excitable, loud, nerdy man hidden beneath the surface probably cringing at the tone of voice being used, but it was what he was allowed to hear, it was all Eddie was willing to share with him, and that was okay.

In every part of his life, he was in control, he could have what he wanted, get what he demanded… but with Eddie… he got what he was given, and he was happy for it.

“I should be home by eight…”

“Ugh good… I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” Whether it was the truth or not Steve never knew, he liked to believe it was, he liked to think his addiction missed him as much as he missed his addiction while he was away “what do you want for dinner?” He smiled against the phone, silent for a moment as he basked in the domesticity of it all, how easily Eddie made him just… BELIEVE that he was a sweet housewife, ready to tend to his every need “… baby?”

“Just thinking… you know I love everything you cook, so many options…” Eddie was incredible at everything, he used a knife better than some of his most skilled bodyguards, men who’d trained with a bladed weapon for most of their lives, he had two ex-black ops on his staff and neither of them could handle a knife quite like him, of course comparing them wasn’t exactly fair, one used it to fillet fish and cut vegetables, the others… cut into other things.

He liked Eddie’s use of them far more than the other.

“Want me to surprise you?” He liked giving Eddie creative freedom, liked it far more than when he told him what to do, telling him… didn’t always get the best results, Eddie liked his freedom to create far too much, surprises tended to feel more… personal, tailored to what he thought Steve might like.

“Please, I could never choose, it’s all so good” another laugh, softer, it sounded so real… so honest, a spell he dare not break by saying the wrong thing, tearing into the space they created together, the fantasy life together by insinuating that this wasn’t the norm… that he couldn’t always have Eddie making his dinner like he longed for.

“Have a safe flight, okay? I’ll see you when you get home…” he was doing something, couldn’t stay on the call, was he with someone else? No… he’d never answer if he was with someone else, the thought made him grip the phone tighter though, jealousy coursing through him at the mere idea that someone else could be occupying his time… stealing his attention away. “Love you, baby” it wasn’t real, just a fantasy.

It still made all his fears, all his worries vanish, pop like bubbles, washed away by the torrent of warmth that flooded him with those simple words.

“Love you too” he only wished Eddie’s words were as real as his own.

Part 2

#PirateWrites #BewareTheThornsFiclet #No Upside Down AU #Steddie #Escort!Eddie #Shady!Steve

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.7 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter. 6 Chapter 8.

Silk

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Reader has an emotional breakdown, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

 While Rex and a few others scouted ahead, You took a desperate shot in the dark.

“General Krell,” you had the comm close to your lips, “We need the medical speeder. There's several wounded that need to get out of here.”

You were met with silence.

“Sergeant Appo, if it's you i'm talking to, get me General Krell before I shove my laser scalpel up your-”

“That will be unneeded, Doctor.” the General’s voice came through on the other end, “The wounded will be extracted when the airbase has been taken.” 

“Sir, some of the wounded can’t wait that long. They need to get to a safer location so I can-.” You were practically begging the Jedi at this point.

“I have the utmost faith that you’ll be able to save them from where you are.” He responded, but even on this end, you could practically hear the uninterested look on his face. You were about to respond but the comm cut. Krell was done with you.

You looked around you, taking in the injured. Three of them needed surgery. Two needed bacta tanks ASAP. Five were entirely unconscious from blood loss and missing limbs.

And one, Fisher, was leaning against a broken and destroyed AT-RT. His chest had been completely eviscerated, exposing broken ribs and damaged organs. You couldn’t do anything, you didn’t have the bacta or supplies to save him. Yet, it would take hours for him to die. 

So you held his hand in yours and gave him as many painkillers as it took to stop his heart. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. 

“Doc?” Nax had remained close, guarding you while Rex and the others went ahead, “Are you ok?” 

“No, Nax.” You admitted, “I’m not.” 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had to mercy kill. But you hated yourself every time you did it.

He remained silent as he stepped towards you and offered a hand. He was sweet. Very polite. So you took it and stood, “Thank you.” 

The trooper looked like he was about to speak when the ground rumbled. Terror filled your blood. Were there more of those worm tanks!? The air crackled and burned with fire and explosives. They sounded different from the centipede tanks the men shot down earlier…new weapons? You desperately hoped not.

Several soldiers dove over your cover, breathing heavily. Very quickly others joined, remaining hidden. You didn’t want to risk your head to get a look at what was happening. So you knelt, looking at Jesse, who had made it before Rex or the others. He met your confused and worried gaze before answering, “Heavy tanks.”

Rex, followed by Kix and Fives, got to your position. the captain had his comm on, speaking hurriedly, “Sir, we’re overpowered. we need reinforcements!”

“The rest of the battalion is holding the entrance of the gorge, captain.” Krell was on the other end, sounding about as calm and uninterested as when you called, “They're guarding it so your troops can break through to the air base.”

Jesse jerked his head up, sharing a look with Hardcase. Seemed everyone expected such a cold response, but it was still despair-inducing to hear.

A shot exploded directly on the other side of your cover. The heavy tanks were attempting to break through the trees and roots that protected everyone. Another shot hit right above you, raining scorched plant matter down.

You dove towards an unconscious, bleeding trooper and held him close, using your body to protect him from the debris. Once everything passed, you got to work stabilizing him. 

Rex continued to argue with the General, “But sir, we can’t possibly-!”

“You must stand your ground!” Pong fucking Krell shouted from his comm, “Do you read me!? Captain, are you listening? Do not fall back! That's an order!” 

Your lover was unmoving. He was paralyzed in horror that Krell would still push this suicide mission. After a few heartbeats, he shook his head. 

Two voices cried out from the otherside of the cover. You and Kix shared a look before scrambling over to grab them and drag them with the others. Your hands were on one trooper and getting his wounds under control while Kix was dealing with the other.

“Keep the wounded as quiet as possible.” The clone captain nodded to you before addressing everyone else, “Alright, you heard the general. Let's go.”

Jesse whirled around from where he kept an eye on the battlefield, “You can't be serious!”

“I used to think the General was reckless,” Fives spat, “But now I'm beginning to think he just hates clones.”

Dogma stepped forward, clear on which side he stood, “The captain is right. Now let's move out!”

The trooper, Trident, under your hands spasmed. He seized, and you did your best to get him on his side and let the seizure pass, “With who!?” you snapped, cracking under the stress, “Everyone is injured and exhausted or dead!” Trident stilled in your arms, and once you felt his neck, there was no pulse. 

The traumatic brain injury he sustained was too much for him. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Trident.

“Isn’t it your job to patch everyone up!?” He retorted, “With all the dead, you certainly are doing a great job!” 

Your eyes widened and Hardcase shot forward, immediately punching Dogma, sending him to the ground. “Shut the fuck up!” he shouted down at the trooper, “You’d be among the dead without Kix and-!”

“Hardcase! Enough!” Rex stepped between them, keeping his gaze level with the heavy gunner, “Fighting each other isn’t going to help.” Despite his words, he cast a glance at you.

Your eyes met him in his helmet. He was checking on you, in his own way. So you nodded, indicating that Dogma’s words didn’t affect you. You’ve been blamed before. Troopers that were grief stricken would lash out at you, blame you for your failings to save their brothers. Though, later, they’d come to you and apologize. You expected Dogma wouldn’t.

Still, you appreciated how Tup knelt to put a hand on your shoulder. Dogma didn’t look at you as he got up.

“What will help is finding another way to deal with the tanks!” Fives got into Rex’s face, clearly angry. Judging by the way his hands clenched into fists, he was ready to start getting physical too, “We can’t take them head-on.”

The captain remained steadfast, “You got any ideas?”

The ARC trooper looked down and shook his head, keeping silent.

“Then this is it.” Rex looked over at the men who remained standing, and turned to get out into the field. 

Hardcase huffed, adjusting the rocket launcher in his grip, “Ok, let's do it!” He, along with Jesse, Tup and Fives sprinted out. Kix was about to follow before he stopped and looked back. 

“Go. Send anyone hurt to me.” you nodded, remaining with the injured. He gave a salute before rushing to follow his brothers. 

Since the squad of soldiers had run out, all attention from the tank shifted to them. No longer were the trees that protected you threatening to fall or collapse from the shots. You looked over your cover, spotting the second tank that was shooting the trees across the field. Its focus was on the men who were fleeing into the foliage to hide. 

A trooper high in the branches fired a rocket. The explosive didn’t do much other than cause the massive tank to stumble. Once it corrected itself, it blasted the poor clone with its cannon.

You waited for the Umbaran to turn its focus away from that side before moving in. Your feet were quick, diving behind downed AT-RT’s, boulders and whatever other cover you could hide behind. 

Once you made it to him, you realized the trip was worthless. He was dead. Half of his body was gone the moment he was hit with cannon fire. 

But he wasn’t alone. Someone else was down, crying and writhing in pain.

Arm missing. Main problem is blood loss. Still awake. I have time. I can save him.

You got to your knees quickly, skidding on the wet ground as you did so. Your pack was off your shoulders as you began to get as many gauze pads and bandages on him as possible. Your hands were stained with his blood as you controlled the bleeding. 

“Come on,” you draped his good arm over your shoulder and stood, “I’m getting you with the others.”

You watched the tank again, waiting patiently before dashing to another point of cover. Getting back to the injured was slower this time, but you managed to get there. Leaning the trooper against a tree root, you commed Krell again, “General, I need the supplies on that speeder!” 

There was only silence. 

“General Krell!” You were desperate, and your voice was shaking from the fear. Fear for the men. Fear they wouldn’t even get a chance to survive, “General Krell, please!” 

Nothing. Unanswered. 

Your hands were shaking and you let out a frustrated, angry cry. The names of the dead replayed in your head over and over again.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Trident.

No. You still had supplies on you. You weren’t giving up. You refused. 

A trooper stumbled over the cover, carrying an ARF trooper. You recognized Silk and Hinge.

“Doc, he needs help.” The trooper slid the injured carefully down. 

Before you even inspected him, you could tell Hinge was barely hanging on, if he was even alive. His armor was blacked and scorched. Smoke still billowed from his body. When you approached, you felt his neck. 

Nothing.

“I’m sorry, Silk.” you murmured, taking off Hinge’s helmet. Carefully, you closed his eyes before standing. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge.

“...we’re all dead, aren't we?” Silk sat down, leaning against the tree. 

You hesitated to answer. Truthfully, you thought so. You wanted to agree. To accept the truth that Krell won and lead all of you to your deaths.

But…Rex would keep fighting. Your kar’ta wouldn’t go down without taking as many separatists as possible down with him. 

You looked at your hand, testing if you could close it in the brace, luckily, you could. You could feel the movement. Feel your fingers on your palm. Your arm, despite the immense damage, was healing. Your nerves were connecting. Your veins and arteries were directing blood flow again. Your body refused to give up.

You could still fight. Just like Rex would.

“No.” your voice was resolute, “I’m not giving up.” You looked over the injured. More had managed to find your location in various states of bleeding, dying or crying, “I’m not giving up on any of you. Even if I have to pick up your rifles to protect you, I’m not giving up.”

Silk sighed and stood, “Doctor,” he saluted, “I am at your command.” 

You couldn’t help but smile softly, “I’ll need your help. Stay within cover, prioritize your safety, but look for any injured. Bring them to me.”

“I’ll help.” Hem, another ARF trooper stood, rotating his arm to stretch his shoulder, “I’m not too hurt.”

“Thank you both.” you saluted as they climbed out of the safety of the trees and roots. The ground shook with another cannon shot nearby. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be out of view. Or the Umbarans weren’t interested in killing those who couldn’t fight back. 

Still, since those heavy tanks weren’t focused on you, it allowed you to continue your job. These soldiers were your patients. They needed you. They needed your skills. And with whatever supplies you had left, you’d try to save them.

So you got to work. Triage. Deal with the more serious injuries. Prioritize. 

Your training took over. You were on autopilot weaving between the troopers. Your supplies dwindled. You ran out of painkillers and bacta entirely. Your tourniquets were the lifesavers at this point. Using them allowed you to spread your bandages and gauze pads between everyone.

Despite your effects, you still lost a few.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno.

At some point Tup had made his way back to you, followed by Hem, carrying Zeke. Silk wasn’t accounted for, but you trusted he would be alright. 

“Doctor,” Tup got to your side, “How can i-?”

Wordlessly, you handed him bandage scissors. He looked confused, even as you removed the minimal armor plating on your sleeve. As a field doctor, armor wasn’t the priority, medical supplies were. You had some plates on your wrists, thighs and chest, but that was about it. Everything else was covered in protective clothing to allow more medical packs and more freedom of movement. 

Which came in handy, “Cut the sleeve up to my shoulder, and then cut it into long strips.” you commanded Tup. 

“Ok…don’t move. I don't want to accidentally nick you.” The poor clone sounded unsure, shy even, but did as you asked. Despite his shaky hands, he kept the shears steady enough to prevent any small injuries to your skin. Once the cloth was separated, you slipped your arm from the sleeve and returned your focus to the other troopers.

Tup was an efficient assistant. Not even a minute later he had the sleeve cut into lengthy straight strips. You grabbed them silently and used them as extra bandages. 

The ground rumbled and shook. One of the tanks was getting close. Too close. You looked up, taking a chance to peer out into the battlefield.

Three heavy tanks were damn near on top of you as they chased those on the field. Through their shining spotlights, you recognized the silhouette of Rex and Jesse running across the field. Rex had a rocket launcher, and with a broken heart, you realized Hardcase must’ve gone down. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Hardcase…

Hardcase.

“Doc!” You jerked your head up, Silk had returned with another trooper slung over his arm. Once he put the unconscious soldier down, he went back out into the field before you could stop him. 

Kix had found you. He was standing on top of a thick root, back to the tanks, looking over the injured you've collected. Something in him snapped because he shook his head before letting out a cry. Your medic friend began to fire his rifle in the air wildly. 

Tup shot up, “Hey, Kix, put it down! You're wasting aim!” When words didn’t work, he body slammed Kix down to the ground, saving him from the massive foot of a tank.

The Umbaran weapon turned its cannon to where Tup and Kix hit the ground. Before it could annihilate the two, it was hit by a rocket. The explosion caused it to stumble, and its powered up shot hit the branches above your triage area. 

Rex had gotten to your position, standing on a toppled tree that was part of your cover. In his arms was a smoking rocket launcher. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but think of how handsome he looked. Smoke and ash billowing around him. Back straight, standing tall and determined. You could picture his focused gaze under his helmet now. 

The tank readjusted, stabilizing its huge legs. It focused on the captain and was then joined by the two others. They all charged their shots, ready to destroy Rex completely. You ran towards him, intending to grab his hand and…do something! Save him!

Die with him.

Just as your fingers met his, shots rained down from the dark sky. Two Umbaran starships were shooting wildly. Their guns poured out bright green bolts like water, hitting everything they pointed at. 

You looked up and inside the glowing, round cockpit of the Umbaran ships were Fives and Hardcase! They were laughing, trying to navigate the never-before-seen tech.

They were alive!

“Clear out, captain!”

“The big guns have arrived, sir!”

The 501st captain wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest as the tanks exploded. He leapt from the position on the tree and held you close. 

Their rayshields weren’t made for their own shots it seemed. They buckled and broke, breaking down and exploding from their own weaponry. That didn’t stop them from trying to shoot at the clone controlled air support. Thankfully, Fives and Hardcase were doing a good enough job flying; they managed to avoid getting shot down.

Fives and Hardcase skillfully cleared the field. They managed to keep control well enough to finally destroy the heavy tanks that have taken so many good men. As the burst and exploded, killing the Umbarans inside, there were cheers and celebrations.

“Woo-hoo!”

“Attaboy, Hardcase!” 

“Way to go Fives!”

Once Rex stood to cheer with his brothers, you dashed to Kix. The medic had calmed down and was tending to the injured, “I’m entirely out of bacta and gauze.” He looked up at you, “and I can see you’re out of bandages.” 

You nodded, snapping your focus back on the injured troopers. The fight had been brutal. Even those that had managed to get to you alive, were fading fast. For every soldier you saved, it was like two more perished from their wounds. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

You repeated their names. Over and over again in your head. As the quiet took over, Kix helped you with the hurt and dying that crawled their way to your position. You didn’t look up, even as reinforcements ran passed to take that fucking airbase.

“Doc, we need help!” Was the only statement that caused you to bring your eyes up. 

Silk managed to stumble from the smoke. His right arm had been ripped off and his chestplate was shattered. His left hand was placed over his stomach, keeping his innards inside his abdomen. 

“Kix!” You practically howled, bolting from where you were tending to Jesse’s gashed wrist. 

You sent Silk out there! You were the one who asked him to risk his life for others! 

Your hands were on him, getting him to the ground, “I got you, Silk. I got you.” You breathed, ripping off the pieces of his armor. Kix was next to you, scrambling to get the situation under control.

Tup had managed to get a hold of the medical speeder. Krell must’ve finally brought it into the gorge when reinforcements were sent in. Ken and Rin were still on the stretcher, but you didn’t pay them any mind as you threw open crates and bags, scrambling to get supplies. 

Bandages. Bacta. Gauze. Sutures.

Supply levels were low. There wasn’t enough for everyone. But you grabbed everything you could and darted back to Silk.

He was still down, but Kix had stopped trying to treat him. The medic removed his helmet and looked at you, sorrow and despair evident. 

“No!” You dropped what was in your hands and immediately straddled Silk. Your hands were on his chest as you began compressions. The cartilage of his ribs cracked and broke as you began CPR. You were in a frenzy to bring him back, throwing his helmet away to pinch his nose and breathe for him.

Something in you broke. The situation finally hit you and your mind shattered. You sent Silk out to find his brothers. Silk returned injured. Dying. It was your fault. You got Silk killed. 

Dogma was right. You had failed so many of these troopers. They relied on you to keep them alive, and you failed in your duty.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Tears blurred your vision but you weren’t going to stop. Kix said your name, but you ignored him. He grabbed your shoulder, but you shoved him off, “How long!?” you demanded before getting your lips on Silk’s to force air into his lungs. 

“4 minutes,” Kix informed you, “He’s been down for 4 minutes. It’s time to stop.”

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

“No it isn’t!” you snapped. Kix looked up at someone who approached. Another injured soldier? He could deal with it. You had to save Silk.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

5 minutes now of compressions. 5 minutes of forcing oxygen into Silk’s lungs. 5 minutes of forcing his heart to beat. Yet it couldn’t function on its own. There was too much damage.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Someone grabbed you and you howled as if burned. Your compressions stopped to thrash and fight. You weren’t giving up. Not on Silk. Too many have been lost. You couldn’t handle losing one more. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Whoever was holding you had fallen backwards, getting both of you to the ground. They called your name, but you refused to listen. You clawed at their armored wrist, trying to get their hold off of you.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

“I’m not giving up!” Tears were running down your cheeks. You’d finally broken. Under the loss. Under the death and destruction of the soldiers you failed to save. You kicked your legs and tried to get out of the arms that had wrapped around your torso. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. 

Silk.

Silk.

Silk.

“I know.” Their words, Rex’s, finally reached you. He was hugging you from behind so tightly, “I know, Mesh’la. I know.” His helmet was off and he whispered softly into your ear.

Your breath shook as you let out a wretched sob. You’ve lost soldiers before. They’ve died under your care. But never this many. 

Too many. There were too many! 

You wept, leaning into Rex’s chest, “I’m sorry…” you cried out, “I can’t save them. I can’t…I’m sorry Rex…Please…forgive me!” Your begging and pleading devolved into more sobbing. You’ve failed him. You’ve failed the man you loved and all of his brothers.

Rex remained silent, continuing to hold you.

#reader insert #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #star wars tcw #tcw x reader #star wars x reader #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper kix #clone trooper tup #clone trooper dogma #arc trooper fives #clone trooper jesse #pong krell #rex x reader

[the-great-british-blorbo-off]

Bracket 2: Round 1, Match 1

Propaganda under the cut! Please be aware that some may contain spoilers.

Jonathan Sims:

They are the perfect tragic protagonist, pretty much doomed from the beginning but with a story so gripping you can't help but route for him and feel for him. No spoilers but his gradually developing powers are really cool and his descent is really interesting. Bonus points: he's canonically ace and has dated men and women.

He's asexual. He's biromantic. He's friends with his ex from university who runs a podcast talking about ghosts. He uses skepticism to cope with trauma and the horrors. He was framed for brutal pipe murder by his boss. When it was explained to Melanie, his ex's current girlfriend, she thought he had burnt someone to death with a smoking pipe because it seemed more in character for him. He got stabbed by the manifestation of losing your mind and successfully lied to his coworker about it. Said coworker, Martin, also had a crush on him, and he A) didn't know, and B) hated him, one reason being Martin had accidentally let a dog into the archives. He has severe arachnophobia. Martin doesn't know this for the first couple seasons, and continually tells him why spiders are important for the ecosystem. In season 2, after a woman filled with murderous worms invades the archives and Martin finds the murdered corpse of the Archivist before Jon in the tunnels below the institute, Jon gets incredibly paranoid that one of his assistants killed her. He makes a deal with Basira, a detective, that she'll get him as many of the recorded tapes found by her body to him as she can, and when he explains to Tim that the reason she was looking for him was he's "helping her with the investigation", Tim takes this to mean he and Basira are hooking up. When he first encounters the evil mannequin ringmaster, his first question is why she doesn't sound Russian. His second question is whether she's going to kill him. He was kidnapped by a circus for at least several weeks and forcibly moisturized. He was in a coma for six months after blowing up a wax museum filled with evil clowns, and only woke up because a random end avatar told him to. When he wakes up, he realizes he loves Martin, and finds that Martin has devoted himself to the concept of being lonely to protect the rest of the Archives employees. He was manipulated into starting the apocalypse. He went to America for a while, got kidnapped by a pair of monster hunters, and met a dead goth trapped in a book. He made a deal with a guy who steals people's bones to remove 2 of his ribs so he could use one of them to get a werewolf detective out of the coffin dimension of being buried alive. His solution before this was to cut off his finger and use that as his anchor, but it didn't work because he physically could not cut through his finger (it kept healing). He realized a shape shifter had killed and replaced his coworker, and immediately bought an axe to destroy the table it was bound in, which he didn't realize would set it free. He's the Ceaseless Watcher's special little boy. He's the antichrist. During and just before the apocalypse, he repeatedly eviscerates the horrors and villains with his mind. Martin finds this hot. During the apocalypse, when they come across the end avatar who woke him up from his coma, Martin asks Jon to kill him because he's jealous that he got Jon to wake up and Martin didn't. He's been kidnapped at least three times. He accidentally manifests tape recorders everywhere.

he got an archiving job and accidentally became the antichrist and i love him SO MUCH!!

Tormented by The Horrors, is a big grump with an even bigger heart, an asexual icon, what else can I say fhdjdhdj

Sopping wet beast

Laszlo Cravensworth:

An extremely British wife guy who is also a vampire. So British that he hates Britain (average British trait). He claimed once that he was Jack the Ripper. He is a very talented musician and composer, having written many popular songs (although not with the same lyrics). Has a passion for science and experiments on people for fun. Ultimate blorbo because he's mostly silly but has a fascination with humanity that drives lots of his actions (music, science, the friends he makes, etc.) which is very special to me.

Feel free to add your own in the tags!

#britpoll #poll #tournament #uk #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #laszlo cravensworth #what we do in the shadows #bracket 2

[decapodparty]

jokes aside i always thought it was worth noting that the second dean found real bonds outside of his family he pretty much gave up sex when on screen (until he was a demon but thats a whole can of worms). the moment a steady cast of supporting characters comes in, dean drops the womanizer act like it was burning him up. for simplicity’s sake id say the first long-lasting supporting character we get that isn’t familial would be cas, and sometime around season 5 we no longer see dean hopping bars, bragging about what he’ll do that night. there’s obviously slice girls (s7), but aside from that iirc the only times dean is in a bar, it’s to talk or to drink. as the seasons go on and we collect a small cast of semi-longstanding allies who aren’t even implied to be romantic interests (jody, charlie, kevin, garth, etc), dean’s supposedly salacious nature disappears like it never existed. he makes jokes sometimes but, really, from what i remember, any pursuit of a night out with a stranger is pretty much eviscerated from any on-screen dialogue as early as s5 or 6.

and THEN to open the demon dean ordeal- it’s really interesting that the moment he drops his connections, he goes back to his early season tendencies. it feels like with him, he either has sex or personal bonds, and when friends appear sex is dropped pretty much entirely. personally i choose to interpret it as dean preferring fulfillment from close bonds, and not truly caring for sex as much as the viewer is led to believe.

#okay gang heres how asexual dean can still win #his general disinterest in dating could also be used to make points for aro dean too #also i want to note that rufus is actually the first non familial support we see #but hes a little bit outside the winchesters direct sphere of socialization #anyways sorry if this is word vomit im so bad at typing #spn #originals

[lostinthesasuke]

I just saw your Sasuke as Joan of Arc art and first of all I LOVE IT second of all I think it gave me a new kind of brain worms. Begging you to elaborate on what you mean by Sasuke would understand how Joan of arc felt, please I feel insane.

first of all thank you so much, that means a lot to me. <3

second of all, not sure if you know the can of (brain)worms u just opened. this is long so buckle up.

joan of arc was born into a century long war between france and england, and saw her home destroyed.

sasuke was born into a military state where children are primed to be perfect soldiers the moment they are old enough to hold a kunai. the state groomed his brother into a murderer, stripped his home and family from him.

throughout her life, joan of arc saw visions of saint michael, telling her she would be the one to lead france to salvation. joan vowed to avenge her country, and petitioned the king. at seventeen, joan was sent to war. at seventeen, she was victorious. when france was triumphant, she was beloved. when the tide of battle turned, she was blamed. she was burned at the stake.

sasuke was plagued by visions too, images of his family eviscerated at the hands of the most important person in his world. burned into his eyes like a brand, forced to watch on repeat.

with that, he resolved to wage his own war.

joan, who was once revered as a pure maiden and was made a symbol rather than a girl, became despised; villainized, and accused of demonic possession.

sasuke was made a symbol, too. the last of his clan, a powerful asset. an uchiha, a holder of a desired kekkei genkai, not a boy. he fled. like joan, he sought a powerful entity to gain strength, to forge his path in battle.

at seventeen, he learned the truth about his clan's state-sanctioned genocide. at seventeen, they called for his execution, too. discarded once he no longer served konoha's purpose, had abandoned the so-called 'will of fire'. the illustrious uchiha name tainted by blood, by a farcical "curse".

his opponent used the very power stolen from his kin, their doujutsu embedded in his arms. joan's detractors still benefited from her name long after her demise, too.

joan's emergence was prophesied, a legend of a virgin who would bring peace to france and end the war.

a virgin, pure. 

sasuke's ideological purity is a topic that has been debated at length by both his supporters and critics, both in the text and real life (and kishimoto himself.)

sasuke's "purity" and the morality of his actions are always under scrutiny. which follows since his clan name has been "dirtied". 

joan was also forced to defend her purity. a maiden and a virgin, she was put on trial for her supposed lack of virtue with her life hanging on the verdict. they labeled her a heretic crossdresser perverted by satan because she kept her hair cropped short and wore only men's clothing. they killed her for it.

sasuke and joan both blur the lines of gender. sasuke is portrayed as a heroine and a femme fatale, and objectified for his looks and his body (whether for power or other nefarious reasons). he is more scantily clad than any of the women characters, and cast in a lascivious light.

joan rebuffed suitors and refused marriage all her life. similarly, sasuke rejected all advances from women throughout the manga (post 700 doesn't exist to me) despite the intensity with which he was pursued.

joan's righteous fury at the british, at the wars that claimed her childhood, are all reflected in sasuke's motivations. in his quest for justice, in his resolution to bring peace to a war torn world, to make those in power pay for the suffering that they are complicit in and dismantle the very framework that allows it.

at seventeen, sasuke decided to become a martyr for the world's hatred. he decided he would be the one to shoulder it all, to purify the world of conflict by taking all of the animosity onto himself. like joan who believed she was sent by g-d to end war, sasuke resolved to become a savior.

a martyr like joan (like itachi), whose guilty verdict was only overturned long after her death. who was canonized as a saint long after mobs raged against her. who became a symbol of freedom and revolution enduring hundreds of years, her name a rallying cry despite the vitriol that claimed her life. 

sometimes when you're seventeen, the voices in your head tell you to start a revolution. sometimes, they're right. sometimes the institutions upheld by those in power need to be cleansed by holy fire, and maybe sometimes something better can rise from the ashes.

#sorry this got so fucking long #txt #sasuke uchiha #naruto meta #this is my first time putting meta in any tags ... #ask

[artbyblastweave]

So we know what your thoughts are on Jack Slash in Worm canon (very good thoughts, thank you for sharing them) but what do you think of Jack in Worm fanfic?

The thing about Jack in canon is that part of why he's so absurdly "successful" is that his floor for what he considers a "success" is incredibly low. He wants to cause as much chaos as he can, with his own survival being an instrumental end towards that first thing. (This is I think an underdiscussed element of his character- Bonesaw notes in her interlude that he's starting to visibly show his age, and that's probably not unrelated to his enthusiasm at the prospect of getting to end the world as the big finish.)

All of this means that Broadcast doesn't have to work all that hard to produce an outcome he's happy with. The 9 eat shit in Brockton Bay but Jack has a great time and lives to do it again. He ends the series locked in a time loop where he's perpetually getting eviscerated, but by the standards he's operating under he still basically eked out a win.

What this means is that in a counterfactual where Jack gives a single solitary shit about someone or something besides himself- whether that's actual moral principles or just quotidian self-interest stuff like "being able to afford gas"- a lot of avenues for stakes and drama return to the character. To say nothing of, like, interpersonal relationships. If you've got a goal more complicated than burning everything down and running away, the ability to subtly manipulate other parahumans is useful but not necessarily an instant-win button. The Black Knight- the alternate version of Jack shown in Eden's interlude- would probably unironically be a fascinating character to explore in a fic, because that's a Jack who's attached himself to a larger project (albeit one that values him mainly as an attack dog) and therefore a Jack who's on some level beholden to what other people think and a Jack who can't just murder his way out of every situation with Broadcast as a lubricant. Giving Jack's power to anyone who's slightly less of a deliberate cartoon shifts the genre towards that of comedy; and probably a comedy where the protagonist constantly faceplants, because by participating in a society (curious!) he's ceded his ability to redefine terms so that he's always winning.

#there are some fics that explore this premise #but I want there to be more #worm #wildbow #parahumans #jack slash #thoughts #meta #asks

[anaalnathrakhs]

okay, since you said more requests are welcome: 13. and/or 30. for a Mick ship of your choosing would be sweet <3

one 13. Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions and 30. Only one bed, coming right up

I hear your heart beat to the beat of the drums

700 words Rated G probs Tommy/Mick

also on ao3 for ur reading comfort

“Don’t fall asleep.”

The voice was the only bridge left between him and reality. 

“You have to go home, c’mon.”

Oh the dulcet tones, oh the velvety flow. 

“You can’t do this,” the voice slurred. “That was my bed, man.”

“Sure I can.”

“No you can’t.”

Mick put his best effort into shrugging. His shoulders rose directly into the couch cushions, and his spine woke up again, but that was the price to pay. 

“Move over, I’m not sleeping on the ground.”

“Should’ve thought about it. Before.”

Tommy rummaged near the couch. He could hear the sound of his steps, hurried, unsure, but he couldn’t see anything. His eyelids weighed a million pounds. So much he could never open them again. Already sleep crept up on him again, heavy as lead. Tommy would find something else. He always did. Mick let the pathetic ripped cushions absorb the ache in his back (nevermind tomorrow) and the vague sensation of nausea that he was used to ignoring.

Finally comfortable.

That is, until a sharp and bony asshole wormed himself on the thin strip of fabric that was left between Mick and the abyss beyond the couch.

“Move the fuck over,” he muttered through the haze. Halfway muffled into a forearm, not his own.

“Should’ve thought about it before.”

So that didn’t fall in deaf ears. He could hear the self-sufficient smirk. How proud he was of tormenting his own guitarist.

“Go find somewhere else to crash.” 

“No,” Tommy sighed, nuzzling in the eviscerated armrest above Mick’s head. “The one and only night I don’t go off with a girl, you steal my bed.”

“That’s not your bed,” he could only answer. A peaceful slumber was so near, just beyond his fingertips, and he couldn’t reach the sweet black hole of bliss because he was boxed in an angular hug with the worst chatterbox he had ever met. A solid headache rooted behind his eyes started making surface.

“Yes it is,” Tommy yawned. “Vince locked the room.”

“Sleep on the ground, then.”

He usually bit back these kinds of comments. Not that they didn’t deserve it, but he’d rather not get booted from the band before they could do anything of value. It just wasn’t worth the argument. Well. It still wasn’t, but fuck that. He wanted the couch to himself, not an elbow in his ribs.

“Dude, you’re so mean to me.” He could hear the pout in Tommy’s voice.

He debated answering. What, though? What could be answered? Yeah, he was mean. Loud, rude, and aggressive. His spine was starting to hurt from the contrived position Tommy had shoved him in, against the back cushions. It was way too late, and way too many drinks for that. He closed his eyes harder.

“You don’t wanna be nice and share with a friend, Mick?” he poked the shoulder that was nearest.

“No.”

“Aw, you don’t like me,” he was sounding way too pleased saying that. The kid had something in mind. Some devious plan. “I thought you were cool, man!” He sighed, but Mick would not mistake a setup for some kind of genuine sadness. Tommy wasn’t even capable of thinking people didn’t like him.

“I was on the couch first.” That felt safe to settle on. And efficient. Goal-oriented. 

“And that was my couch first,” Tommy protested. 

“Finders keepers.”

“Piss off,” he said, and as he said it, his hand began absentmindedly running up and down Mick’s back. A gentle touch, almost something he would’ve believed Tommy incapable of.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he raised his voice the best he could, drowned as he was between couch and man, “don’t fall asleep here.”

“I told you that,” Tommy yawned again. “You move if you want. ‘m staying.”

Mick groaned. His voice was sounding too low, too slow, for him to have any hope. Tommy would sleep here no matter what. He was well and truly stuck.

“Love you, dude. G’night,” Tommy settled his chin atop Mick’s head, the buzz of his voice in his throat right next to Mick’s ear. But despite that, his fingers dancing lightly along Mick’s back didn’t stop. His other arm slid up a little, nestled comfortably between the two of them. His breath slowed down, deep, steady, rhythmic. He radiated warmth.

Something was amiss, but for the life of him, Mick couldn’t focus. Sleep was catching up.

“Love you too, dude,” he murmured while he still could. 

Tommy hummed gently in response.

#motley crue #motley crue fanfiction #tommy lee #mick mars #motleyposting on main #i write things sometimes #rpf #is this my best work? no. is it titled after the kesha song? yes. so that's all okay in the end.

[baldursgrave69]

A Different Kind of Death

Rating: NSFW - MATURE, MDNI

Pairing: Enver Gortash x fem!durge (named)

Word count: 2.5K

Tags: MDNI, afab!durge, unprotected sex, piv, vaginal fingering, feelings, oral sex, bhaalspawn typical mentions of violence

While writing this I was listening to: From Eden by Hozier

Find me on Ao3 here

*back with my Agnes x Gortash bullshit :')*

Agnes had her hands wrapped around a newly recruited cultists throat, squeezing so hard she was nearly lifting him off of the ground. As she felt his body go limp in her hands, a smile flitted its way across her lips. Feeling someone’s life draining in her hands would never get old. She let his body drop to the ground, cracking her knuckles and stepping over him.

“Someone clean this up,” she demanded, waving a hand dismissively in the direction of the other cultists standing about the temple.

As she headed for her bed chambers she could hear the scrambling of the Bhaalist’s behind her as they fought over who would get to clean up the body. As she entered her chambers, she dismissed her butler, who stood by her bed.

“Wretched dreams, my sweet lady!” He sang with a bow before scurrying out of her chambers, closing the large stone door.

Agnes let out a sigh, rubbing her temples. She wanted nothing more than to rest, but her mind would not allow it. Ever since the night she spent under Enver Gortash, Agnes couldn’t get him out of her thoughts. Her mind would wander to the feeling of his hands on her body, to the way his lips felt soft against hers. It was distracting. Try as she might, she couldn’t deny that the thought of being with him again overtook the thought of killing him. And she hated him for it. Her sole purpose was to murder in Bhaal’s name. Killing was usually enough of a release to allow her to rest, but now she craved a different kind of death.

Before that night, she often thought about Enver. About how exhilarating it would feel for her to connect her dagger with his flesh and slice and slit his skin. To stab him over and over until the life drained from his eyes. The thought of eviscerating him and feeling his blood between her fingers was enough to get her heart racing.

Not now. Now when she fantasized about Enver Gortash, she was thinking about his lips on her skin, how his hands would feel running along her body, how badly she wanted to feel him inside her again. Agnes shook her head, trying to rid herself of these thoughts of the tyrant. She began to peel off her clothing and cloak, getting down to her small clothes and crawling into her bed.

Agnes lay on her back, her eyes closed as she tried to drift off into sleep. Her mind began to wander back to thoughts of her Baneite confidant. His hands, though rough with calluses, were surprisingly gentle. Even in the throes of passion, he insured that he was careful with her. She remembered how carefully he sat her down on his desk before he lavished her neck and chest in sloppy, open mouthed kisses. Agnes’ hand twitched towards her core as she thought about how it felt to have his cock in her mouth.

She thought about how he had tried to put his hands in her hair, but she didn’t let him. How would it have felt for him to bob her head up and down on his length with her braid? Agnes brought a hand up to cup her breast, pinching her nipple between her fingers. Her other hand dipped into her underwear, circling her clitoris. She let out soft moans as she thought about him pounding into her, his cock dragging against her walls.

Agnes shot up in her bed, removing her hand from her clit. “Gods, what am I doing?” She breathed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Before Enver, Agnes had had plenty of sexual partners. Though none of them ever wormed their way into her thoughts like this. She didn’t allow a single one of them to live when she was done with them, he was the only one. Agnes let out a frustrated huff before jumping out of her bed. She quickly dressed herself, lacing her boots and affixing her daggers to her side. She sought a release that killing or her own hands would not satisfy. She needed to feel his touch for that.

“Dark Lady, wherever are you-“ without so much as a look, Agnes threw a dagger in Sceleritas’ direction, barely missing his ear and lodging itself in the shoulder of a nearby Bhaalist. Agnes turned towards the cultist who staggered backwards with a cry. She coldly wrenched the dagger from his body, wiping his blood off with her cloak before turning towards the exit of the temple.

Agnes paced before Enver Gortash’s door. Was she really doing this? She felt pathetic, showing up at his door like an animal in heat. She craved his touch in a way she had never craved anything. She needed to feel him against her, it was driving her mad. She took a deep breath before lifting her hand to knock on the door. Before her fist could connect, it opened. Enver Gortash stood before her, a devilish grin on his face.

“Why, hello Agnes,” he said, crossing his arms.

“How did you…”

Agnes hoped he didn’t know how long she’d been pacing in front of his door. She rolled her eyes, pushing past him into his home.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, closing the door and facing her.

She turned to him, her eyes trailing across his body. It was late, he was in his nightclothes, a black robe loosely tied around his waist. The front had fallen open, she could see the hair dusting his broad chest. She felt herself begin to salivate as she imagined running her fingers across his body.

“Agnes?” He said, snapping her attention back to him. She walked towards him, causing him to walk back into the door.

“What’s going on? I haven’t seen you since the other night, you kind of just disappeared,” he said, watching her cautiously.

“Stop talking,” she hissed, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him into a kiss.

He immediately fell into the kiss, his hands grabbing her waist to pull her closer. Agnes brought both hands to rest on his shoulders, kissing him deeply. He pressed her against him, dipping his tongue into her mouth. Agnes allowed him to devour her, feeling his hands travel lower and gripping her ass. He pulled away, looking down at her with wild eyes.

“Back for more, I see,” he smirked, pressing his knee between her legs.

“Don’t make me regret letting you live,” she hissed, grabbing him by the collar of his robe and pulling him further into the room.

She looked around for a place to take him, eyes zeroing in on a black velvet loveseat across the room. She pulled him over to the couch, pushing him to sit down. Agnes straddled his lap, returning her lips to his and kissing him hungrily. His hands found their way back to her waist, pushing her down against his hard cock. She grinned against his lips, grinding her hips as she pulled away to look at him. He watched her, his eyes blown wide with lust.

“Gods, I hate how badly I want you,” she growled, her hands tangled in his hair.

He unclipped her cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground behind her. She looked down at him, feeling her pulse flutter with the way he looked at her. No one had ever looked at her like this, like she was the only person that mattered.

“You are so incredibly intriguing, you know that?” He said, his hands kneading into the plush flesh of her thighs. “I just can’t figure you out, it drives me mad,” he continued, dipping his head to her neck and kissing more gently than she had ever been kissed.

Agnes froze, the tenderness of the moment making her dizzy. The bhaalspawn closed her eyes, deciding to lean into the intimacy rather than shying away. Enver’s hands found their way under her shirt, gently caressing her back as he continued peppering kisses along her neck. Agnes leaned her head back, quiet moans escaping her lips. Enver pulled her tunic up over her head, taking a moment to look at her.

“What?” She asked cautiously as he stared at her, his hands resting back on her waist.

“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly, eyes trailing along her body.

Agnes could feel herself blush, that was not a word often used to describe her. She pulled him to her, pressing his lips to hers. His hands came up her back, unhooking her bralette and allowing it to fall down her arms. She pulled back for a moment to remove the garment, letting it drop to the floor.

Enver cupped her breast with one hand, thumbing her nipple as he pulled the other in to his mouth and sucked. His free hand pushed down on her hip, grinding her onto his erection. She rolled her hips against him, her breath catching at the wave of pleasure sent through her body from his touch. Enver pulled his head up, wrapping her legs around his waist and picking her up. He spun her around, setting her back down on the couch and unlacing her trousers with one hand.

“I want to taste you,” he said through pants, wrenching her trousers down her legs.

Agnes breathed heavily, nodding her consent as he pulled her pants off of her legs. Enver knelt before her, pushing lightly on her knees to spread her legs. He dragged his thumb along her folds, circling her clit as he looked at her. Agnes whined at the sensation, a hand tangled in his hair. Enver laid a kiss right above her clitoris as he teased her entrance with his fingers. Agnes’ head fell back against the couch as Enver licked a long stripe up her slit before settling where she wanted him most. His tongue traced lazy circles against her clit, a finger slipping inside her.

“Gods, yes,” Agnes breathed, bucking her hips against him.

Enver added a second finger, languidly pumping them in and out of her as he lavished her with his tongue. Agnes cried out as he sucked at her clit, his fingers hooking inside of her. She could feel the coil tightening as she approached her climax.

“Don’t stop, Enver,” she rasped, her hands tangled in his hair.

The sound of his name on her lips filled him with vigor, increasing his pace as he pumped his fingers inside her. Agnes came with a moan, the pleasure shooting through her body unlike anything she’d ever felt. Enver continued to ravish her through her orgasm until she pulled his head up with a yank.

Agnes pulled him to her, smashing her lips against his. She could feel her wetness on his chin, taste herself on his lips and it made her want him even more.

“Please, I need you,” she whispered against his lips, untying his robe.

He pulled back from her, standing to remove his robe and trousers. Agnes moved to the side, patting the space where she had been. He raised an eyebrow at her, pulling his pants and small clothes down. Enver groaned as his cock sprang free, the pressure from his erection straining against his pants finally relieved. Enver sat on the couch, looking over to Agnes. She climbed onto his lap, a hand guiding the head of his cock to her entrance.

With her head thrown back she sank down on his length, the feeling of her walls stretching around him pulling a groan from deep within. Enver’s hands shot to her hips, guiding her up and down as she rode his cock.

Between pants and moans, Enver pulled Agnes’ face to his, pressing his lips to hers. She dipped her tongue into his mouth, bracing her hands on his shoulder as he thrusted up into her.

Enver wrapped his arms around her middle, picking her up and placing her on her back on the couch. He buried his head in her neck as he fucked her, whispering praise into her skin as she moaned. Agnes wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands tangled in his hair.

“Fuck Agnes, you feel so good,” Enver panted, pulling his head up to look at her. Agnes could tell he was close, his movements much more erratic and uncontrolled.

“Come for me, Enver. Please,” she breathed, her back arching up off of the couch as she dug his nails into skin, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.

Enver came with a grunt, spilling inside her. “Gods, you’re… perfect,” he huffed, kissing her before pulling out.

Agnes took a moment to catch her breath, Enver hovering over her with his forehead pressed to hers. She could feel that familiar ache in her head start to creep up. She pushed him off of her, jumping up to find her clothing.

Agnes pulled on her small clothes in a hurry, the Urge making her nauseous.

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Enver said, watching her hurriedly get dressed.

“I really do. You have no idea, Agnes hissed, looking around for her tunic, pants, and cloak.

“Tell me, then,” he said, draping an arm on the back of the couch.

Agnes looked over to him, letting out a sigh. If she was going to continue doing this, and she knew she was, it would be wise for him to know about the Urge.

“Fine. But clothe yourself first, Baneite,” she spat, tossing his underwear over his lap.

He chuckled, obliging and pulling his underwear on. He grabbed his robe, tying it loosely around his waist and holding out is hand to invite her to join him on the couch.

Agnes approached him cautiously, sitting on the opposite end of the loveseat, her knees pulled to her chest.

“It’s simple, really. If I don’t kill, the Urge forces my hand,” she said, her chin resting on her knees.

“The Urge?” He asked, a hand coming over to stroke Agnes’ cheek.

She froze under his touch, what was he doing? The tender way in which he caressed her skin made her nauseous. Agnes pulled away slightly, swallowing down the bile unsettled in her stomach.

“Yes. If I don’t satisfy it, I could take out a whole inn without knowing it. And I have,” she continued with a sigh.

“Isn’t that what a child of Bhaal does?” He asked, watching her.

“Well, yes, obviously. But I don’t exactly get to relish in the kill if I don’t remember it, now do I?” Agnes said, relaxing a bit. How calm and contented he was around her was a welcome change to her normal company.

“Ah, of course,” he said, his demeanor unwavering. It was perplexing to Agnes that he wasn’t afraid of her.

“That doesn’t bother you?” She asked, allowing her body to relax a bit.

“No,” he said matter of factly.

Agnes cocked her head to the side, watching him. She didn’t understand why her nature didn’t bother him, normally that would infuriate her. But it felt nice to have someone around who treated her as… an equal.

#gortash x durge #enver gortash x dark urge #lord gortash #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #dark urge x gortash #the dark urge #dark urge #durgetash #bg3 durge #durge #gortash smut #bg3 smut #baldurs gate smut #smut #baldurs gate fic #bg3 fic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate posting #bg3 oc #durge bg3 #dark urge bg3 #dark urge tav #the dark urge bg3 #bg3 dark urge #bhaalspawn posting #bhaalspawn #bhaalspawn tav

[grandgrief]

The following drabble is recommended to be imagined as the opening to a late 90's PC game plus pre-rendered CGI or FMV cutscenes for each faction-- perhaps meant to be played like a boomer shooter FPS or a real-time strategy wargame.

____

QUICK ON IT

STARCROSSED SKIRMISHES

____

INTERPLAN

♫

The familiar tuning fork Y-shape of the UFV Wishbone-- an Interplanetary Command ship, was sputtering to life, and soaring out of some planet's lower atmosphere, avoiding asteroids left and right. A couple of other similarly refurbished screaming metal deathtraps that passed for spaceships were sent to follow it, on the orders of a captain from a bigger, far more proper starship of the fleet.

Onboard, whether in-uniform or not, the various dregs from among INTERPLAN Command, the universities' most disgraced students/faculty, and corpo-colony inmates on work release were preparing themselves: Some taking up weapons, as one alien fired off a particle pistol that ruptured a steam valve, another testing out a scanner that let off several beeps and activated colorful lights. A couple of androids were marching towards a power socket to begin recharging, while a mutant ordered a tray of toxic materials in the mess hall.

"--Alright, alright! JEEZ. Hold your horses."

And of course, the fearless presence of an administrative adjutant to lead the charge (alas, he was immediately questioned as to what horses were doing onboard, misconstruing the old Earthen saying), as they piled into a shuttle and made for the nearest planet...

____

MALAUGS

♫

On some desolate tundra outpost controlled by one of the corporate colonies that seceded to deep space, one of the executive shareholders was being given a tour by the supreme manager, who was whipping employees into shape. One disgruntled fellow working a license plate press wiped the sweat off their brow and shuffled towards the vending machine, just before a slithering tendril glued a hastily crafted sticker onto one of the buttons, advertising a new beverage.

Sure enough the worker bought it, reminded them of a bottle of tequila with a worm in it, only this worm was a weird never-before-seen critter. Then all of a sudden, another mutant lab-animal-- a larger and very moist looking reptilian, proceeded to bite off half of the worker's head! The strange worm in the bottle shot out like a bullet into the exposed cranium, and attached itself to what remained of the brain.

Naturally, everyone else who noticed this screamed, and activated a specific alarm with a short, but effective pinpad code:

"ALERT - ALERT - THIS IS NOT A DRILL! MALLEABLE AUGMENTS HAVE BEEN DETECTED ON THE PREMISES!"

When the labor force attempted to leave, the gates had all shut on them. The executive and supreme manager had made it out. And they didn't reopen the facility until after everyone stopped banging on the reinforced doors and begging for help, which they took as a sign people were ready to work again.

It was not. Nowhere even remotely close to that.

In fact, they were swiftly eviscerated by the MalAug mutants waiting for them on the other side, who would steal their keys and drive their ground vehicles back to the spaceport to do more of the same with anyone there, before their parasite-driven humanoids began rounding up the more monstrous mutant-animals into the cargo holds and driving them towards the next optimal population center for feeding...

____

AN-XRs

♫

In what was already a totalitarian state, on some dense megacity, was a chrome coated capital, where uniformed persons were indulging in the fruit of their tyranny. Of course, they were good and tired. So it was time to call upon the ultimate weapon of conformity: The Endotronic Death Robots. Of course, they would soon acquire a new name for themselves...

"Aha! Welcome aboard, loyal machine!" laughed one of the dictatorship's council-committee. "Go forth... and uh... and root out subversives! Slackers! Anyone who would threaten our great state!"

Two of the Endotrons looked at each other for a moment, before one offered the other a particle rifle, and blew away the council-committee official. The other officials laughed boisterously, before the Endotrons fired at their feet, making them dance towards their own factories. In time, legions of troops, sky drone carrier units, and towering 'smart tanks' proliferated the planet. Even remote-controlled toasters were getting in on this action.

A simple designation was printed onto the sides of all their transports: AN-XR.

____

VENATORN

♫

In the distance, the common warriors took to the old traditions of combat, by swords and axes of all different shapes, including the vaunted isosceles two-hander, with only the occasional ranged weapon mixed in. Theirs was to die in loud battle, and earn a riotous party in the afterlife.

Not so for their most battle-proven peers. The legendary trackers they knew as the ascended blades. The Venatorn.

One huntress surveyed the landscape, before her targeting software honed in on their targets. Eager to wound it a little with a long range plasma bolt, charged to the point it would strike like a grenade. But not before one of her pack addressed her. A senior hunter.

Their bout of communication was as brief as possible, conducted in code-sounds and symbols on their portable compu-processors. Like martial artists, they had to work to eliminate as many of their missteps as possible when they weren't on their down time. Make their technique perfect, their movements swifter as a result. And they had to know for certain whether they were stunning or killing. Faltering was unbecoming of a Venatorn. The role was only for the most serious pursuers. Truly relentless.

And there they found it: A batch of mutants picking at the remains of villagers. An INTERPLAN shuttle had also been spotted, along with the footprints of the Endotronic AN-XR units.

A true free-for-all battle of the factions...

#[ic] Activation #[drabbles] lies r us #long post #gore tw #body horror tw

[astrum99]

Of course I have to write something with the new lore drop on Gabriel's pronouns:') Anyways: sets around the 3-2 epilogue.

----------

It was unfair. It was absolutely unfair.

He had done his assignments to perfection for millennia, for eons. Slayed enemies by the orders of the Father, the council. He tore away the seat of the judge within hell and sat there for as long as he was told to. He spilled blood without thinking, because he trusted them to make the right call, because how can God be wrong? How can the council be wrong?

He knelt in front of them. Body low and curled. Head drooped like his wings. Shame and pain stewed and bloomed from his first fail, due to an abomination of a machine that defies all odds. He needed to warn the council and purge the machine once more with some additional helping hands.

Yes, he needed their support now more than ever, but they were not sparing him a single glance. They looked away as if it were them that were hurt. He couldn’t get a single word in before the tremendous voices of the council overwhelmed him. The repulsion in their voice wormed its way into his veins and turned to ice. It pinned him to the cold marble flooring. Not a single explanation was given a place. He can’t get a word in before they cut him off. How can they judge without letting the defendant speak?

He was injured, he was bleeding. His wounds were open, pulsing, still burning badly from the piercing of the relentless gunfire. Yet here he was, kneeling and grovelling like a creature, a husk. The council spared him no mercy, no sympathy. No offers for healing or rest. Only utter disgust and resentment. “Heresy,” their voice echoed, louder and louder.

They stripped him of his rank, of his pride. They called him it. As if he was nothing more than a young, bumbling virtue. His work, his devotion, his absolute loyalty – they acknowledged none of his offerings, his sacrifices. They refused to listen. Instead, the light was cruelly ripped out of him.

For a brief second, he was not sure if the scream was coming from his bleeding throat (it was). The next second came the crashing pain: in his delirious state, he was uncertain if he’d been disembowelled and eviscerated in the process (technically, his organs were physically fine, but the light was rooted in every cell of his, and the extrication was... far from gentle).

He woke with a hollow feeling in hell. He supposed they had tossed him there to save the trip. Alone. Isolated. Still hurt. How unfair to make him go on like this.

At that moment, a part of him realized that he did not matter to them. They did not love him. They only loved his work, his devotion, his loyalty. Like a dog. He shook himself and refrained. He could not possibly entertain the thought if he wished to go on. He was given an opportunity to prove himself, and he must rise once more to earn back their respect (because it was the only thing he knew). So if he cannot fill the emptiness from the light with love, he supposes hatred will do just fine.

He gazed upward and absolutely did not think about how he found more comfort in the familiar darkness of hell than the cold marbled floors of heaven.

He had work to do.

#ultrakill #gabriel ultrakill #PRONOUNS #wooooooo #az thoughts #genderless angel my beloved #yea this was rough bc I wanna get this out asap #this is a fun one tho #very much parallel to lgbtq+ kids realizing their parents only wanted an ideal image of them:’)

[blimbo-buddy]

can we learn more ab the earthworms of bug society...i love worms

oh gladly, i love the weird dudes

So due to the fact that earthworms have no eyes, they usually greet each other through touch and taste

They greet each other by bowing their heads and allowing each other to gently place their mouth on their head, like a greeting kiss

Because of their blindness and vulnerability above ground, the Worm Empire operates any and all affairs under the earth (Unless a foraging is set in place)

There is special shelters in the narrow tunnels that are uses when heavy rainfall occurs

However, foraging during heavy rainfall for the worms is set to an all-time high. Not many animals want to be out in the rain, so most of their worries of predators goes away

Though the downside is that under the ground, it becomes difficult for the worms to pick out vibrations of predators, which can also make the emerging process of foraging very dangerous

The Earthworm Empire was one of silent peace, mostly undisturbed by outside forces. Not a society that favors war. At least, that's how it was

During the reign of Earth Master Mica, the Pillbug Domain had to flee from their lands after failing to uphold their side of a geographical trade with the nearly eviscerated Dragonfly Lair, after asking for their help in a war against the - at the time- unbeatable Wasp Swarm. The Dragonflies retaliated, nearly wiping out the Pillbug's army and subsequently divorced them from their land.

Earth Master Mica took in the Pillbug Domain, creating an alliance that survived even beyond Mica's rule

Some pillbugs were found to join the worms on their forages, alerting them of approaching danger

During warmer days, pillbugs were sent to go forage for food. This era of the Worm-Pillbug alliance was noted as an era that was flourishing with food

With the strength of the Pillbug Domain slowly growing back to its original glory, they set their sights on reclaiming their land once more

The silent rekindling of the Pillbug-Dragonfly war could only stay silent for so long, before the war was brought to Earth Master Compost

With their unwilling involvement in the war, Earth Master Compost and many other politically powerful worms grew irritated with the Pillbug Dominion's irrational decision making and how they dragged them in to a war of the pillbug's own making

When the Dragonfly Lair launched attacks onto the Worm Empire in order to weaken the Pillbug Dominion, the worms were whittled away in their numbers due to their lack of military expertise

It was decided, after hundreds of good worms dead and hundreds of impulsive decisions from the Pillbug Dominion, that the Worm Empire would exile the Pillbug Dominion and mark them as enemies of the empire

After the exile of the Pillbug Empire, a rise in isolationism began to fill the tunnels of the Worm Empire, spearheading an era that was filled with fear and propaganda

This isolationism that began to spread amongst the empire is also what partially caused the civil war of the worms. Fighting over who would allow them the most protection and subsequent isolation from enemies, the Slugs of the Garth or the Slugs of the Timberland

The Worm Empire was not soft anymore

Those who allied with the Garth Slugs armed themselves with wasp stingers tied around their tails, able to gut any worm in their path, mastering up close, worm-to-worm combat

Those who allied with the Timberland Slugs had mastered the art of long-ranged weapons. Vines reinforced with sharp thorns, acting as whips that could easily butcher a worm into multiple pieces at long-range

But soon, all sides of the Worm Empire civil war will eventually need to come face to face with a new, far more dangerous threat. One that is silent, an unseen serial killer and devourer of worms and slugs.

#blimbo rambles #ask #bug world no mercy