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#fierce corpse buddies
ntnttalksnothing · 2 years
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No but Song Lan and Wen Ning do eventually become zombie buddies, right?
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haunted-radishes · 8 months
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Hey, you seem to be a Wen Ning enjoyer, can you tell me what you like best about him? I feel like he has a lot of potential that isn’t really explored enough for him to be a fave so I’d like to hear your POV on him!
Honestly, right from the beginning he has always just made me happy :D
But to delve into it, the first thing that struck me about him was how kind he is. He's a sweet guy! I started with The Untamed, only reading the novel later, so my primary impression of him is the version that sneaks down to the dungeons to take out the evil dog and give Wei Wuxian some medicine, so he's going behind his sect's back to do what's right as soon as he has the opportunity to do so. I love how he's timid and gentle, but has the backbone of steel to risk it all to do the right thing.
But he's also kind of. Odd. Sometimes it ties into his hidden nerves of steel, like when he drugs the entire cohort at Lotus Pier to help Wei Wuxian and co. Like, it was an incredible act, but he just. Fucking. Drugged them. No hesitation. Absolutely wild behavior. Especially in the novel where he had only met Wei Wuxian once before this! I do prefer the drama version where his actions make more sense, but his devotion is at least a little unhinged no matter the version. But also, even besides the obsessive devotion, his energy is just. Endearingly strange and off-putting. Like when he decides that the best way to quietly contact Wei Wuxian is to dangle upside down outside his window. Or feels absolutely no need to make himself less terrifying when he power walks towards the tied-up juniors with a sword.
And then! The unexplored depths and unexamined tragedy! You're left to wonder so much about him! How DOES he feel about the whole fierce corpse thing? About his compromised autonomy? Would he have turned against his sect even if Wei Wuxian hadn't charmed him? Does he regret any of his actions before killing Jin Zixuan? How deep do his grudges run? Is there anyone from the Wen sect outside his established circle of family and cultivators who he misses or secretly mourns? What does he think about the other great sect members, especially the leaders? Plus so many more questions we'll never truly know the answers to, because he tucks his problems away and never speaks of them! The closest glimpse we get of his inner turmoil is his verbal evisceration of Jiang Cheng with the core reveal, and that does show us some interesting things about his character! For the first time, we see him choosing to be as hurtful as possible, showing how much he clearly resents Jiang Cheng, but how much of that is personal dislike, how much is anger on Wei Wuxian's behalf, how much is blame for the deaths of his family, and how much is gall at him benefiting from dear late Wen Qing's genius and service without even knowing it? Also, what is he going to do after canon? What is left for him?
Also he's relatable, lol. That awkward uncertainty he always carries with him is very endearing in an "oh, me too buddy" kind of way. He has so much going on inside his head, but all that comes out is, "oh! Excuse me >.<" People are having massive emotional moments right in front of him, and he's just..... There.
Anyway, Wen Ning! Love that guy! Makes my brain go "brrrr"
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Nie Huaisang: My da-ge turned into a fierce corpse. Jiang Cheng: That's rough, buddy.
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Nick Anderson
* * * *
SOTU DEBRIEF - DARK BRANDON BRINGS IT!
TCINLA
MAR 8, 2024
The Party of Class and Integrity celebrates another ass whipping - look at all those around the Dumbest Congressional Bimbo Ever as they realize how bad they got their asses kicked
Last night’s State of the Union was a punch in the face not only of the heckling MAGAT Morons, but the Otherwise-Unemployables of the DC Press Corpse. As well, the Democrat’s Professional Pearl Clutcher’s Caucus can join the others in officially retiring “He’s too old” once and for damn all. The Press Corpse stands today beside their MAGAt buddies, trying not to admit to the exact nature of the material covering their faces.
Over.
Done.
Finished.
The official Democratic response to this collection of clucks from now to November is, “You saw that State of the Union speech. Joe Biden is sharper than Donald Trump will ever be and is ready for the fight.”
You can tell November’s Losers saw their coming loss clearly when their majority criticism of President Biden was “He was too mean and talked too fast!” You know he left a mark. That was the most perfectly tuned-in SOTU speech I have ever seen, delivered with fire and energy by a man as far from the Press Corpse’s concept of a doddering old man, diminished in drive and energy as possible. The New York Times Opinion Section got hit in the face by a freight train of ideas and energy.
Joe was Old Man Strong. Dark Brandon. Killer Joe.
Biden delivered.
It was the best center-left populist presidential speech ever. Less technocratic than Obama; less curated than Clinton - a solid knock-it-over-the-outfield-fence.
As many Republicans feared, Biden was more than able to “spar with the disruptors,” as one observer reported, using their jeers to make his own policy points. (“Sparring with MAGAts” is also known as “shooting fish in a barrel”). It’s hard to believe the GOP could be so stupid with their heckling that they walked straight in to a second SOTU trap, that went off when Biden maneuvered them perfectly into taking their proposed $2 trillion dollar tax cut off the table. But then again, they are Republicans, and it’s well-known you have to score an IQ lower than ambient room temperature to get your party card there nowadays.
Biden’s speech was combative and sharp, the solid punch in MAGA’s face they’ve been asking for every day for so long. The “senile” narrative went flying into the dumpster fire. Once again, Republicans set the bar too low, and got knocked on their collective fat ass.
Joe argued forcefully from the strong side about America’s destiny, security, and purpose, laying down a fierce bright line against Putin and the forces of autocracy.
He more than made it through the SOTU address. That moment his supporters always fear never came. Politico, demonstrating that most real political knowledge is 20/20 hindsight, called the speech the “turn-the-tables SOTU.” They go on to report that the Biden campaign had their best two hours of fundraising so far in this cycle from 9 to 11 p.m. last night. A CNN flash poll finds that 62 percent of viewers thought the policies Biden laid out would move the country in the right direction.
The New Republic’s Osita Nwanevu wrote: “That overall impression—of a vigorous president, strong enough to take the fight to his detractors —will linger more deeply in the minds of most who watched than the substance of anything he said.”
But what was really interesting to me was watching the political midget behind Biden’s left shoulder. Mike Johnson’s histrionic facial expressions demonstrated everything wrong, idiotic, dangerous and treasonous about MAGA Republicans.
Johnson was both ridiculous and politically smaller than he actually is. He did applaud Biden’s call for aid to Ukraine early in the speech, which he does seem to support personally, even though doing so demonstrated how he’s too afraid of his crazy caucus to allow a straight-up vote. He is likely to go down in history as the one person who more than any other handed Ukraine to Vladimir Putin.
His mugging for the camera was more obviously overdone than what passed for “emoting” in silent movies. He nodded that solemn “more in anger than in sorrow” nod. He rolled his eyes more than a teenage girl listening to her elders.
What was really sad was noting what he rolled his eyes at! The most important was January 6 (of which he is a noted participant in the attempted coup). When Biden said: “We must be honest. The threat to democracy must be defended. My predecessor and some of you here seek to bury the truth about Jan. 6. I will not do that.” MAGAMike gave his most sustained eye roll. Close runner-ups were his responses to abortion rights and freedom, and the border bill that he killed when told to by Dear Leader. And he did that last one while Senator James Lankford - the chief GOP negotiator on the bill - listened to Biden lay out its provisions and nodded on camera, clearly mouthing “That’s true.” Mikey even shook his head at “buy American”!
His eye roll over “The very idea of America is that we are all created equal, deserve to be treated equally throughout our lives. We’ve never fully lived up to that idea, but we’ve never walked away from it either,” was the real demonstration of just how dangerous he really is.
The MAGA Republican Party doesn’t believe we’re all equal. MAGA, and MAGA Mike, knows that if you’re not a right-wing Christian, you are not a good American.
Of course, there was also Marjorie Traitor Goon, whose ridiculous getup and MAGA hat elicited a “WTF?” look from Biden when he first saw her - and which was in apparent violation of House rules (but then, she IS a violation of House rules). Lindsey Graham’s pasted-on embarrassed smile at least demonstrates he has more self-awareness than his fellow MAGA cockroaches, as he considers how far he has fallen. Watching the MAGA screamer in the gallery get arrested was nice. It came down to just how dumbstruck the Republicans were as this man who - according to the Volkischer Beobachter, er, I mean Faux Snooze - can’t remember his own middle name or string two sentences together, zingered them repeatedly as he publicly exposed their un-American extremism.
Overall, Biden’s speech showed how he can win, and how MAGA, being on the wrong side of history, will lose.
And then, savoing the speech, just when I had forgotten there was going to be an Official Response, there was “America’s Mom,” sitting on a stool in her kitchen, there in East Buttfuck, Alabam-bam. Katie Britt had the most scenery-chewing response to a SOTU speech I’ve ever seen, and given that her competition was the ever-thirsty Marco Rubio and the ever-hapless Bobby Jindal, that was quite a win. Just another example of The Rising Young GOP Star, Cursed Forever by the SOTU Response.
The kitchen setting was the perfect metaphor for what MAGA intends for women: put them back in their place - “Kinder Kirche Kuche,” as their wonderboy Adolf put it.
I’ve spent enough time in Hollywood to be completely conversant with serious failure in public, and Britt’s performance didn’t even rise to the local-dinner-theater overacting you see from those who never had talent to begin with. With a Republican candidate for governor in her state of Alabambam campaigning on revoking women’s right to vote, and all the other MAGA moves to make the Handmaid’s Tale a documentary, delivering her speech in a kitchen was…
A choice. One of those tiny moments that completely illuminate the larger reality.
And then…
Appropos of nothing other than I love it when a Real Asshole gets punched really hard in the face, the news this morning that Doctor Feelgood Ronny Jackson has “Gotten His” brings a smile to my face that might last the weekend:
After the Defense Department Inspector General report on the White House Medical Unit found “Doctor Feelgood” had engaged in “inappropriate conduct” when he was the top White House physician for Presidents Obama and Trump, the Navy removed him from the Rear Admiral list last June. Yes, Jackson, who was a rear admiral when he retired in 2019, is now listed as a captain.
A spokesperson for the Navy stated that the “substantiated allegations in the DoDIG investigation of Rear Adm Ronny Jackson are not in keeping with the standards the Navy requires of its leaders and, as such, the Secretary of the Navy took administrative action in July 2022.”
Hurrah!
The losers just keep on losing. It’s what losers do.
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bellshazes · 2 years
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Here is your excuse to ramble more about clethubs, I think this sort of analysis is really cool
the similarity of etho and cleo's approach to the life series is that they both will say either out loud or thru their actions, "I'm going to make sure you get what you deserve."
for cleo, this is her sense of justice leading her to the iconic "do me a favor and die for me" moment; she's loyal until she's betrayed, and then everything is on the table. she will treat you exactly as fairly as you treat her, which is why scott and her teaming up twice in a row makes sense, since Scott's win in LL is tied to his unwillingness to betray anyone and going red because of not killing as boogeyman. it also means that bdubs, who she didn't know especially closely before 3L, gets particular indulgences from her when he asks her to pretend she found the enchanter and tells him no one will believe her because she's also red but cuts instantly after that to her doing it. in DL she starts lying for fun with the lie meter bit after chastising bdubs for lying to her when she has never lied to him. she lies to him after! come season 4 (manifesting) I don't expect her to be sentimental about him much.
etho's whole bit in frightening exploit tactics is the same wording but emphasized differently. he fakes being boogey to extort people and fails at it miserably, but he is primarily interested in engineering situations in which people become deserving of retaliation, something cleo doesn't seek out but takes advantage of when it happens. His fishing rod kill on scar is the most brutally brilliant example of this - seeing an opportunity so good that even scar says he can't quite be mad about dying to it! But he doesn't really escape scar's single-minded insistence on the contracts bc scar has never been interested in fairness and etho is always interested in technicalities.
this contrast is compelling on its own. But bdubs brings them together when cleo tries to get recompense for etho looting her corpse while she's doing a favor for her buddy who said etho was kicking him out even though etho (correctly) insists he never was, and it's bdubs who brings them together when cleo consoles etho when bdubs dies and trusts him because bdubs did.
bdubs is not interested in people getting what they deserve. Bdubs is interested in people getting what he can give them, like a crastle to keep them safe, or interesting recklessness to play off of if he can't build a fortress, or a commitment to a bit whether it's advantageous or not (homewrecking). he is selfish and selfless, he will take lives from tango in LL and lie to cleo and everybody in DL and betray impulse of the day 1 crew in 3L when it suits him because he has one priority and that's his partner surviving him and I guess like being alive long enough to torment etho Jesus christ he's sick in the head for that one.
together the three of them when they align enable each other's most interesting and complex traits. you can see it in the way etho is like the only one who believes bdubs homewrecking and trusts cleo even while she says etho is the weakest link to attack alongside bdubs, because now unallied she has no qualms about using her knowledge of them to her advantage, all while bdubs quest to homewreck driven literally because quote unquote I want etho causes her to treat him no longer Iike home as he'd described her and she'd treated etho by transitive property in LL but some other player.
anti-sentimental sentimentalists of different flavors, who are in turn fiercely loyal and just and ruthless and indifferent. they would not I think win as a team of three. but a guy who wants to go out in a blaze of glory and a person who's always down for arson and just desserts and a guy who looks for reasons to fall on swords.... man. man. it gets to me
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dimorphodon-x · 2 years
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The final part! Admittedly, I might've put a little too much humor into this? Hopefully it's not too obnoxious lol
SG sentient LL au by @cuppajj
“I mean the vibes are definitely haunting, but so far nothing has happened. No ghosts or stowaways,” the shoulder mounted camera turned on its swivel to point at Cloutchaser’s face. His pet metal wing had crawled into his backpack and was nervously clucking as he looked around. The Decepticon, though, seemed more disappointed and perplexed than worried as he made eye contact with his camera.
“I did do a bit of reading up on this ship’s history, but nothing had explained why it became abandoned or what happened to the crew of Autobots. I mean… people like them, especially Rodimus who was their captain, don’t just… disappear…” Cloutchaser paused and narrowed his mismatched optics as he spotted something laying on the floor of the long hallway just up ahead. His camera followed his gaze and zoomed in. It… looked like a body.
He was proven right as he approached the form, his camera’s light illuminated the faded red-grey armor.
“Oh. I… I think I know this guy,” the light shined onto the figure’s face, revealing a set of curved horns that at one point were bright orange and hollowed out cheeks. The face’s expression was locked in a mix of shock, sadness and fear.
“It’s Cyclonus,” Cloutchaser hummed, turning his camera away from the body and back onto himself, “he used to be a fierce warrior way back when, but often struggled with following orders and was impatient. Apparently he lacked loyalty and was often manipulated or tricked by the Autobots. I’m not sure how he got mixed in with this crew. Some say it was an accident, others think manipulation or that he decided to switch sides. We may never know what happened, sadly. I like to think he always had good intentions, but whatever. Hopefully he went out like the great warrior he was.”
Something told him that wasn’t the case though. Aside from the expression on his face, Cyclonus was missing his left arm and leg, and the stumps left behind were too clean for that to have been from an attack. Plus his sword was still strapped onto his back. His observations weren’t bringing up any answers though, only more questions, so he moved on.
“Another one,” just five minutes after leaving Cyclonus’ remains, he stumbled upon another body, “hmm, this looks like… Blaster? Yeah, Blaster. Looks like he’s missing some parts too.”
Not far from Blaster was what was left of Getaway, his head laying on a pile of his own limbs. The further Cloutchaser walked, the more the bodies and body parts piled up.
“What’s weird is that they weren’t violently ripped apart,” he commented as he examined a dismembered servo, “someone carefully cut them up. If any of my viewers are experts in… I dunno, examining the dead or whatever, please do send in your thoughts in the comments! I think we’re onto something bigger than previously thought.”
Snapster squawked and pulled his head into the safety of his backpack. Clout quickly turned around to face whatever had startled his buddy. 
There was nothing.
“Huh. Don’t worry, Snap. I’m sure it’s nothing. Corpses may be scary but they can’t hurt you,” he received a small chirp in response and continued down the littered hall. He passed by a small door, maybe a closet, and tried to pull it open.
“Locked. Oh well,” he shrugged and left it, oblivious to the figure watching his every step from the shadows.
Starhawk snuck out of the Decepticon ship. He was a little surprised he could still sense the two other sparks nearing the med bay. Hm. Maybe this was his chance.
The Lost Light may be the ship itself, but even they couldn’t focus on everything going on inside. Plus, it probably thought he was still locked up dead in that closet, and if it did then it’s focus would mostly be on the intruders than anything else. If he acted fast, he might be able to grab Rodimus and leave!
‘Oh yeah,’ the remaining part of his face twisted in a wide grin of both excitement and anxiety as he scurried through the vents and gaps with less caution than he always had before, ‘it’s all coming together.’
“Wow. Just… wow,” Cloutchaser stared wide eyed at the state of the medical bay. It was a mess. Not in bodies (well, there were plenty of little fragments scattered about along with old energon stains) but just how everything was kind of everywhere. All of the tools were out, but not a single one was discarded onto the floor. The… not so dusty floor.
“Ok, that is just weird,” he muttered to himself as he crouched down to run a finger along the floor. He raised his servo up to the camera, “the floor is pretty clear, see? Meanwhile, out in the hall, there was a lot of dust on the floor and even in the air. Plus, all of the tools are out, but they’re also clean and look to be well cared for and used. This could mean that someone has been using this med bay and cleaning these instruments.”
Cloutchaser’s eyes paled at the realization and he swallowed nervously, his spark pulse starting to quicken, “oh god, we’re not alone on this ship, are we?”
His soul nearly evicted itself from his chamber as Snapster let out a shrill alarm call and flew from his backpack. He spun around, hands fumbling for his gun.
“Who is-?”
“Here,” a stranger clad in purple armor with red spines protruding from their back, head and shoulders stepped out of the shadows, blocking the doorway. They had one of their hands casually raised while the other was held neatly behind their back.
The Decepticon vlogger fell back on his rear end and pointed his handgun at the stranger. Snapster was flying around the room squawking in panic.
“You’re… Cloutchaser, right?” The stranger flashed a friendly/not-friendly smile.
“What’s it to you? You a viewer of mine or something?”
“Something like that I suppose,” they shrugged. Cloutchaser looked them up and down, gun (and camera) still pointed at them.
“Stalker then. Alright,” he hissed, “give me one good reason not to pull the trigger.”
“You’re free to try,” their smile widened a bit, “but it won’t do anything for you.”
“You threatening me? You threatening me in front of my son?!” He pointed at the panicking metal wing, “my good boy?! He don’t need more traumatizing! He’s already stressed out enough!”
The purple mech raised a brow at him and glanced at Snapster, “I really don’t care about your pet-”
“-Son-”
“Pet.”
“Well-whatever,” Cloutchaser snapped, “my pet, my son, my buddy and pal! Whatever! What do you want, weirdo?!”
“You’re being an incredibly rude guest,” they glared down at the Decepticon with disdain, “walking around like you own the place, recording my dead crew (are you still recording?) and now you point a gun at me. I should kill you right where you sit.”
Cloutchaser shrunk back as the strange Autobot loomed over him. He heard Snapster hiss and snap his jaws in a threat.
“But, I won’t,” they straightened their back and clasped their hands together with a loose smile, “no, that would make a mess of things here, and your pet will just get more worked up. He’s already loud enough as is.”
The Decepticon yelped in surprise as the stranger grabbed his arm and yanked him up.
“Ooh. A lot lighter than I was expecting.”
“I’m pretty hollow,” he stared at the stranger cautiously, but also greatly confused. They just smiled and tugged him towards the exit of the med bay. Snapster followed after his owner, “where are we going?”
“Somewhere else, so I can properly punish you,” their grip on his forearm tightened.
“Uh-how about no?” Cloutchaser hugged a startled Snapster under his free arm and gave a hard yank against the Autobot, his arm popping off at the elbow.
As the stranger was left with his spazzing limb, he turned and bolted.
“Hey!!”
‘Fragfragfragfragfrag!’ Clout picked up his pace as the walls suddenly shifted and cords shot out to try and grab him or knock him over. Good thing Clout was a pro at running away, expertly twisting, turning, leaping and sliding out of the grasping cords. He could hear the stranger shouting, but it was like their voice was everywhere at once.
He never expected the stranger to just materialize in front of him. His heels dug into the floor, sending a spray of sparks as he tried to skid to a halt. The air was knocked from his frame as that falter allowed a cord to grab him by his midsection. Snapster squawked as he flew from his grasp, but quickly righted himself in the air and flew out of sight into the shadowy hall.
“SNAPSTER!” Cloutchaser shrieked, his remaining hand stretched out to try and grab what was already long out of reach, “don’t hurt him! Do whatever you want to me but please don’t hurt him!”
“Your pet isn’t a priority,” the purple mech scowled, the con’s limp arm still in their grasp. They glanced at it and held it up at him, coincidentally making his own servo point at his face, “and by the looks of it, you aren’t either anymore.”
“Huh?” He blinked and made an attempt to retrieve his arm. The stranger didn’t stop him.
“You have been nothing but a waste of time!” They snapped, their red eyes flashing angrily behind their matching visor, “time that I could be using to-!”
They stopped, their eyes unfocusing. Cloutchaser stared blankly at them, confused as to what exactly was going on.
After a moment their narrowed eyes widened in shock, “oh no. No no NO!”
“What-” Cloutchaser was dropped to the floor and both the cords and stranger disappeared, leaving him sitting alone in the hall, utterly confused.
“How?! I killed you!” Lightlost glared at the mangled white jet standing in front of the captain’s seat. Starhawk grinned, holding Rodimus snug against his chest with both arms and tendrils. The tendrils were tightly tangled around the smaller frame, and Hawk was holding a talon right up against the prime’s throat, ready to sever a vital cord within an instant.
“You did, yes,” he chuckled, “but I’d hate to leave a promise unfulfilled.”
Lightlost bristled and balled their fists in frustration. They perked as it suddenly struck them.
“It was you! You bit the captain! You were the one picking through the deceased!”
“All me, baby!” He laughed, “I can’t believe I managed to actually trick you! Maybe being sparkless does have its perks!”
The entire ship rumbled with rage. Lightlost grit their teeth, “I’ll kill you again!”
“You’re free to try,” Starhawk cooly cocked his hip, “but one wrong move, and I might accidentally hurt the captain. Or worse.”
He pressed his talon into the soft mesh of an artery for emphasis. The avatar’s eyes widened and they backed off.
“You wouldn’t. You… you love him too much to ever do such a thing.”
Hawk frowned, “you were quick to judge during my first attempt. And while I do care about Rodimus, if it means he must die in order to be free from you, then I will end his suffering.”
“‘Suffering’? I was keeping him safe! I was keeping him with me!”
Starhawk hissed, flaring his wings out, “he’s mine to protect! You’re just a ship. A space boat. You were supposed to merely bring us from point A, to point B. Nothing more. Now get out of my way.”
The ship again rumbled, Lightlost’s expression became murderous. The sparkeater further hooked his claw into the prime’s neck and the tendrils tightened around his frame, his armor audibly starting to give under the pressure.
Lightlost again backed down. Their face was twisted in frustration. It almost looked like they would start to cry, honestly. After another moment, the avatar vanished.
Starhawk smirked, but narrowed his eye suspiciously as he stepped out into the hall with his prize and started to walk at a brisk pace, phantom spark pounding as he remained on high alert in case the ship tried anything. But considering that his claw was in Rodimus’ neck and tendrils wrapped around delicate joints, they probably wouldn’t. They cared too much about the captain.
His fast walk turned into a full sprint as he neared the hangar. The Decepticon ship’s lights were a beacon. Starhawk couldn’t stop the excited laughter bubbling up from his chest as he ran inside and plopped down into the pilot’s seat. He hugged Rodimus even tighter and nuzzled against his cheek. He was surprised to find it wet with tears, and his eyes, wide and bright, stared up at him.
“I did say that I’d save you, didn’t I?” Rodimus just blinked at him.
His laughter subsiding, Hawk freed one arm to start the ship and steer it out of the hangar. When had they last seen the stars?
He should also try calling Slingarm once they were far enough away. Rodimus could honestly benefit from a licensed doctor. Even a crazy one.
He started to laugh again.
Lightlost wasn’t sure what to do. They had messed up. They wanted to transform and snatch the runaway Decepticon ship up and hold it close and never ever let Rodimus go again, but Hawk would surely kill him if they tried that.
They stumbled to the control room and stood at the doorway.
The pale red Tagonopterox was perched on the head of the captain’s chair. He looked at the holoavatar, chirped, then returned to preening the rotors on his wing.
This wasn’t fair. Their captain should be sitting there, like he always had. It was so empty here. Why was everyone gone?
Lightlost shuffled to the empty chair, dragging their feet like they weighed several tons, and collapsed on the armrest. They buried their face in their arms and screamed, startling the metal wing away.
They screamed and screamed, even after their avatar dissipated, the entire ship continued to scream.
A forgotten Decepticon vlogger could only watch and record as bit by bit, the Lost Light started to shut themself down.
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lanbichenbunny · 1 month
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Drunkji Strikes Back
The second time Wei Ying meets Wen Ning to talk and Drunkji finds them.
I just think drunkji has the longest inner monologues that would put Wei Ying to shame and go something like.
Oh you dare talk to my man again after I pushed and shoved you? Well you’re going to get it. Take that. (He kicks Wen Ning and is thoroughly pleased with himself.)
B*tch you talk to my man again and I’m gonna cut you into more pieces than good buddy.
Wei Ying sends Wen Ning away. Lan Zhan is not finished with the discipline.
Wei Ying also should have learned from the first time, don’t have secret chats with fierce corpses.
You want my ribbon, you’re going to get my ribbon. I’ll tie you up and you’ll never talk to THAT fierce corpse again. I’ll tie you up so good you won’t talk to anyone again.
Wei Ying hopes no one will ever see him tied up and says so out loud .
Drunkji: Yes good idea, I must show you off to everyone and make sure they know who my husband is and it will never be questioned again.
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sasha-chambers · 2 months
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Short Horror Stories: The Bloody Mare
In the quiet villages of Wales, the people knew of a mischievous spirit by the name of the Mari Lwyd, a tall spirit with a human like body wrapped in white robes with the skull of a horse in place of its head with glowing green eyes like emeralds set into its eye sockets and a wreath of colorful flowers and ribbons adorning the top of its head. This spirt moved door to door in these quiet towns during the late night, often followed by local merry makers, engaging in singings contests with local home owners, wagering the contents of their larder.
For those who lost they happily welcomed the spirt and its cheerful followers with open arms and provided them with food and a hearty helping with alcohol. If they bested the equine spirit then it simply moved on to the next house and engaged them in the same wager. Many villages had come to enjoy their encounters with the Mari Lwyd, preparing it's winnings before hand or becoming so competitive as to prepare their lines beforehand in preparation for the spirits arrival and betting on who it would best.
Eventually the spirit was more of a local friend, many drunkards awaiting the spirit eagerly to follow it as if it were a long lost drinking buddy. However, during one particularly dark and cloudy night, as one of these small villages encountered something they were not quiet expecting. One house after another they heard a voice singing outside of their homes, but it was not the lively, jovial tones of the Mari Lwyd, the voice was cold and low, like one speaking from the end of a long, dark tunnel.
When the owners of these homes looked out through their windows they spotted a sight not too different from the one that they were familiar with, a tall and slender figure wrapped in robes, though these robes were as black as the night as opposed to the moon white robes of their drunken companion. A skull of a horse also topped its shoulders but the ribbons cascading down over its shoulders were a mix of darker colors and in place of a wreath it wore a crown of thorns and it's eyes emanated a dim orange glow like the dying embers of an old fire. And lastly, instead of the bleached white of the Mari Lwdys skull this spirit instead had a skull dyed red as if it had bathed in blood. Lastly the creature was completely alone, not a single companion followed it on it's path through the village.
As it sung it was not the cheeky requests to enter their home and devour the contents of their kitchen, but instead a request for them to plead for their lives and send it away to another. At first the skilled singers were able to turn away this strange spirit, but it was not long before one unfortunate home owner failed the match with the creature and it gained entrance to their home. It had no interest in food nor alcohol, but instead it opened its skeletal jaw, revealing a second set of teeth hidden in the shadows, lines of fangs that it sank into the neck of the villager and quickly drank them dry until nothing but a exsanguinated corpse was left behind.
On and on this creature went, it's dower songs filling the night air along with the sounds of panic and confusion as those who won against the strange spirit began to make their way around the village and attempt to warn those who had not yet encountered it. As the night grew old, the blood of many had filled the belly of this strange, perverse creature, not the night was not yet over, and there was another dweller of the night who was none too pleased with an interloper stepping upon its territory.
The residents of the village all came to remember the sounds of two horses violently calling into the night and a fierce battle taking place in the shadows as they cowered within their homes. Eventually the night became quite once more, no single person willing to break said silence for what felt like an eternity until a familiar, jovial song began to ring out throughout the streets, lightening the heavy hearts of the villagers and soothing their souls from the dark presence that had stalked them. Though the creature would be seen again throughout the years, there was always another waiting to chase it back into the shadows from whence it came, and bring merry joy to those who it's dark counterpart would terrorize.
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cotillion-the-rope · 10 months
Text
Shade Lord Ghost Drabbles: They Need Help?
Summary: Maybe one where we have ghost being a protective sibling and going from fierce to cuddly or the other way.
~
Ghost sent suddenly still, letting the hum of their needle harp fade out. Hornet stopped playing too as she looked up at them. Only Grimmchild kept going on his harp, a proper handheld one borrowed from someone in his Troupe.
“Something’s happening?” Hornet couldn’t sense anything herself beyond the weight of Ghost’s presence on her senses.
Ghost was silent for several seconds, presumably paying more attention to whatever had caught their attention, before replying. “Someone’s trying to hurt Hollow and Buddy.”
“They need help?” Grimmchild asked, still playing his harp.
“I don’t know.” Which would be why Ghost hadn’t moved yet. They were waiting to see if they would be needed. Apparently they were taking to heart Buddy’s insistence that they need not immediately jump to solving all their siblings’ conflicts.
“Perhaps we should…” Hornet began before cutting off as Ghost vanished in large puff of void smoke, teleporting presumably off to wherever Hollow and Buddy were being attacked. She sighed instead. It’d be real nice if she could teleport too.
“I know where they went,” Grimmchild said as he stood, his stance a bit wobbly as his legs were still fairly new to him. “I’ll take you.”
Before Hornet could protest and say she’d rather just be told so she could make her own way there, he was taking hold of her wrist and magicking both of them off. He could only jump a short distance, especially with her in tow, so it took several sickeningly disorienting hops before they finally arrived just outside the little hut at the edge of Dirtmouth Hollow had claimed as theirs.
They were just in time to watch void tendrils shoot through the backs of the last two bugs that had seemingly been trying to flee. Void overwhelmed their bodies, shaking them as it poured out of every crack in their carapaces. A quick death but not instant, if they screamed though, it was drowned in the void.
Several other corpses leaking void littered the ground around Hollow, Buddy, and Ghost. Great, Hornet had missed basically everything so there’d been no point to Grimmchild rushing her here. Still though, it was good to see Hollow and Buddy were safe. Not that that was ever in doubt with Ghost in charge of their rescue.
Ghost hovered over both of them, their tentacles making a protective ring around them. Much like they had Hornet when Ghost had saved her from that cage a while back. Presumably, Ghost was telepathically communicating with them, making sure they were all right.
Hornet would’ve liked to be included in that conversation but the one time Ghost had tried to communicate with her like that, their thoughts hadn’t made much sense, leaving her disoriented. So alas, she would have to wait for them to be done to be filled in on what exactly happened. Likely, neither Buddy nor Hollow were hurt though, else Ghost would’ve been rushing to do something about it. So that was good news.
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thebiscuiteternal · 1 year
Note
29 new concept files??? gurl. what was the factor that made you decide they got to be stand alones? and can we see the list??? 👀
I was slightly off, the ‘29′ number included the threadfics. Anyway, if it was a full page or longer, it got a separate file rather than going in the "concepts archive" file. That was pretty much the only criteria. So, if I were to total up everything I've salvaged off Twitter in the past week (threadfics, concepts, minifics), it's more like...
Hang on, let me add this all up...
...141 pages of mostly-unfiltered brain rot, give or take.
Haha, holy shit. Hyperfixation is real indeed.
Anyway, here's the list, hit me up if you want a post or more specifics:
Minific Archive
Short Concepts Archive
Butterfly Effect AU (threadfic)
Taibani AU (threadfic)
Revival Ritual Horror
"Cursed" Temple + Reincarnations
Reverse-Insecurity SangCheng
All the headcanons for the Part-Cat!Huaisang timeline
General Omegaverse Headcanons
Omegaverse SangChengXian
Artist and Proxy
Abdication
Literal Affection Starvation
Alternate Version of the Not-All-Human Timeline
Reverse Xuanwu Sequel
Silencing Sequel
Yet Another "Nie Huaisang Destroys Himself" Concept
De-Aged Da-ge
Angsty Brothel Not-All-Bad End
Sad Times at the Cloud Recesses
MDZS/GW2
MDZS/Marvel Fashion Buddies Crossover
Time Travel While Not Knowing
Modern Day Reverse-Nies
Art Restorer Huaisang Headcanons
Contact Therapy
Bird Creature
Reincarnation Angst
A Little Cage
Fierce Corpse Creepiness
Repeated Time Travel
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kaitopitoo · 2 years
Text
It has been weeks since I almost last heard of Vio, or at least it feels like it’s been that long.
He’s been isolating himself more often than before, hiding away in his room and from what I can tell he doesn’t even bother to light up the place. I understand he would prefer to be in his own little bubble when it comes to his book reading routine, or overall planning for battle or training.
But not like this.
Me, Red and Blue barely hear anything about him or what he’s doing, even Princess Zelda is unaware of what’s been going on with him. She can’t even get a word out of him, aside from a dark mutter or quiet mumbling, followed by him storming past each of us. Barely eats anything each of us cook, and even what the maids prepare for him specifically.
This isn’t like him at all, it just isn’t, and I am horrified.
The rays of the sun set on my face as I walk, occasionally disappearing because of the window frames blocking them. The castle seems to be quite buzzing as knights and maids alike are moving up and down the hallway, giggling to themselves, and chanting back and forth. As I keep walking down the castle hallway, I begin to ponder on minor details of why Vio is behaving like this. Again, it’s unlike him to be so quiet even though we know by nature he is the silent one from the team.
However, I did notice that all of this began when… he disappeared.
And I mean Shadow Link.
It was obvious he and Vio had a thing for one another going on, it’s obvious to me now. I can’t speak for the others, but I have a feeling they know it too. Knew it, saw it, heard it. Every time Vio spoke of the man, his face would light up in glee, in such joy. For a blank slate he truly enjoyed the man’s company. Now I understand one part of the reason why he turned to the dark side that one time. I’m sure it was that, aside from his own personal little plan he should’ve discussed with us. But I think that was smart at the time, actually, not telling us to get genuine reactions out of us…
Suddenly, I look up and I’m nose to nose against a door. It took a bit to realize that this is Vio’s room. I would question why I’m here, when I have to admit I care for the guy. It worries me that he isn’t even talking to me; it worries, yet it scares me.
I gain the courage to knock on the door, but had to do it fiercely since the door is so heavy, I imagined it’s barely audible from the inside. Even then, I truly am not expecting to get a response at all. Not even a glance or a go away sign to leave. Just silence, as he’s being.
Life keeps moving behind me as I feel frozen in place, people still running up and down the hall, talking, gossiping, anything that’s considered lifelike. Here, I feel so cold, so still. But it’s all waiting, hoping for at least a response from Vio. I step back to allow my image to be seen through the peephole, still hoping-
“Hey.”
I didn’t even hear the door opening.
“Hey, uh…Vio. I–”
“What is it?”
A shiver runs down my spine at that snarky response. It’s so Vio, but in this state, it’s very much unsettling, “I just… Well, I want to see how my buddy is doing, and… I’d also would like to talk-”
“Please, no.”
I notice the door closing in and I immediately set my foot between the door frame, holding back my wince of pain, “Hey, wait a second! Vio, c’mon, I mean no harm.”
Silence falls upon us, and after such a long while of almost not seeing each other, I got the chance to see his…
Oh, Goddesses, his face.
It looks… horrible.
His usual neat and clean looks berated in a state I can’t properly describe. His hair is all messy and tangled up, some strands are matted to his face. His bright eyes now a dull color, most likely due to the lack of sleep. Considering that, his eyebags have gotten so much worse and make him look like a corpse almost. Even his body language has given up, slumped over at the door, and knees about to give out on him.
This… is an awful sight.
I really didn’t want to pry, but I’ve got to help him in some way. Find the solution to whatever is bothering him. However, if my theory is correct, that is, if it’s all about Shadow Link, then, it simply is something that can’t be helped.
“I’m not in the mood right now, Green. Go spar with Blue, or something…”
“I won’t be in the mood until I know what in the Goddesses name is going on with you.”
“It’s nothing of your concern…”
I furrow my brows, but I'm trying not to, “Well it sort of is, and I’d like to help you get out of it. Please.”
The heavy silence resumes, still weighing on my shoulders. I blink a few times while trying to both keep eye contact with Vio while also trying to look away from his destroyed image. The urge to help him clean himself up is there, the urge to comfort him in some way is also there. I just know he’ll push me away, like he’s been doing so for every one of us.
Vio’s the one that breaks eye contact however, as I hear a quiet sigh escape through his nose. He turns his heel and walks away from the door, definitely given up on resisting me. I hope he doesn’t think I've been harsh about it.
I truly care for him.
“Come in, then.” Vio emptily addresses, “Let me…”
The place dimly lights up as I see him fling the long curtains open, allowing natural light to seep through after the Goddesses knows how long since the last time that happened. A bit of dust comes off the curtains and Vio coughs quietly, swatting away close to his face. I watch him almost limp about from the window to the bed, eyeing me with his daggers for eyes. I could feel them even behind my back, distracted over the small makeover he did with the place.
Sure, he is fine organizing his room, but he should consider himself too.
I look back at him and notice he’s staring off in the distance, looking almost lost in thought and just in sheer emotional pain. I don’t bother to say anything as it feels comfortable enough to just be in silence, even if it feels heavy just as much as I assume it is to him as well. He proceeds to gently place a hand on his bed, patting it down indicating for me to take a seat. I oblige and do so, still keeping a space between us, so he doesn’t feel like I'm prying in his business too much.
More silence.
The few things that would interrupt it is the outside world being loud as ever, and the occasional heavy sighs coming out of Vio himself. From the corner of my eye, I see him breathing steadily, but he almost looks frozen, close to an inanimate object.
Lifeless.
I can tell he's exhausted, but he isn't helping himself to it.
I go on to address the situation about the dusty curtains, but instead I wanted to get straight to the point of the real matter, “You shouldn’t be locked in this room if you’re going to keep it dark. That’s unhealthy.”
“But I want to.”
“Vio, why are you doing this to yourself…?”
“To see him.”
Such a blunt response catches me so off guard I flinch, yet my conclusion was right. It is because of Shadow Link.
I went to speak but my judgment knew he wasn’t done yet.
“I admit having been quiet on a lot of things but… This is one of them. I imagined everyone would be against the idea of me being associated with him again but…”
Vio stands up and walks to the window, eyeing the outside world as if he’s contemplating what else to say. I almost got up as well to hold him, but he immediately turns to me, with a dead look on his face.
Goodness, that stings.
"I miss him. That's all I have to say."
And again, silence. We just stare at each other for what feels like ages, but these seconds feel heavier the more they go on, while I'm lost within his cloudy eyes.
He leans against the nightstand by the window, light acting like a halo around his image. Even if I'm staring into his eyes, I can tell he's gripping onto the edges; he looks like he's about to break down on the spot. Not implying that he can't be like this, but usually he's very stern and firm with his character. He would never let anyone see him like this; it's a miracle I'm in here in his quarters.
I stand up from the bed and make my way to him. I'm sure he's had no one to talk to about this so I hope I can get more out of him.
A loud thud interrupts the both of us. I immediately look behind Vio and I see what looks like a book stuck between the nightstand and the wall, I bend to pick it up and Vio’s frantic voice erupts my eardrums.
“Wait, don’t–”
Out of instinct, I pull away at Vio’s poor attempt at snatching away the book.
This… suddenly intrigues me.
“Green…”
I stay quiet, looking at him right in the eye with a serious look. I’ve never seen this horrific yet calm demeanor on Vio before, and it certainly raises red flags. I look down to the book and notice how musky it is, besides it being extremely heavy as well. I open it and hear the leather creaking as it folds, including some pages stuck to one another. This book has definitely seen better days for sure…
As I flip through the pages, and have the many words and connotations sink in, I realize that Vio is doing some serious business behind his door…
“Is this… a book for necromancers, Vio?”
No reply, just again a dead look.
“Vio…” I addressed him again, “Tell me.”
“If that’s what you think, so be it.”
“Vio, do you know how dangerous this can be?"
“I know how to use it, Green. If I didn’t, the castle would have been overrun by now.”
“Vio, I-” I sigh in defeat, I mean, sure. He may be able to use it but I’m not going to let it risk all of our lives, including the people and Princess Zelda herself.
I hold tightly onto the book, being wary of him snapping at me any time to get it off my grasp. I can’t let him keep this any longer; he’s just going to end up risking his life over something that just can’t be helped.
Ganon is gone, Vaati is just the same, and Shadow is too. There’s no safe way to bring him back without giving up something in the process.
I turn my heel and walk past Vio and stop close to the door. However, I can feel Vio’s eyes on me, prying silently.
“Green, please.” I see him turn my direction as well, but refusing to look desperate, “I just… need to see him at least one more time. I owe him an explanation.”
“An explanation for what?” I furrow my brows but intentionally this time, “He sacrificed himself for you, for us. It’s something that cannot be undone.”
“With trying my method, it can be.”
“Vio-”
“Give that back.”
Vio lunges at me with aggression but lacks speed unfortunately. I flinch back, dropping the book behind me and grabbing Vio by the arms. It gives me a chance to look a Vio directly in his eyes, and a closer yet detailed look at his face. He squirms under my grasp, showing teeth and growling in his throat. I’m trying my best to not hurt him as I hold him for dear life, but it’s hard to do so against his own strength.
Together, we step back towards the nightstand almost tripping on our feet, still fighting for both balance and preventing ourselves from becoming physical. I can hear him say things under his breath, but it’s all mumbling nonsense to my ears as I can’t make it up clearly. I did pick the detail of him almost whimpering under me. I immediately thought it might be me for gripping his wrists, so I let go a bit, yet still holding on to him.
“Let- Go of me, Green!” His voice begins to crumble, almost cracking, “Just… Leave me be! I can make this work!”
The demanding and desperate tone in his voice plus the squinting painful expression makes me wince in response. I wanted to help him, and I think I made it all worse, but who else was going to address this? Certainly not with the others as he clearly refused entry to them all, but me.
Vio continues to squirm, moving fiercely yet tiredly to get my grasp off him, but it doesn’t work. I stomp my feet on the floor to keep the both of us on flat ground, weary on not stomping on his foot again. I pull him in closer to see if I can put some sense into him. And it seems to have worked…
“Green just… Let me do this…”
“I’m sorry, Vio, but I just can’t let you continue! You’re hurting yourself the more this goes on!”
“I can make it work!” He yells, with an unhinged look on his face.
“Vio, snap out of it!” I begin to shake him, trying to lock his lost eyes with mine, “He’s gone!”
Suddenly, Vio stops squirming and stares distantly back in my eyes.
His pupils have gone pale, as well as his face.
His breathing hitches from the tantrum and what I think is… disbelief.
“...I- Green-”
I hit a nerve.
Tears begin to well up in his sockets, face turning red, and his strength subsiding.
I try my best not to crumble with him, but it’s truly a chore, “I’m sorry Vio, but he’s gone. There’s nothing that can be done about it.”
More tears come out the poor blue eyes. I can feel him shaking under my grasp which I haven’t let go of yet.
“Green…”
“...Yes?”
His mouth opens a bit, bottom lip shaking from the crying. Then, his eyes slowly close as the sudden weight of his body pulls me down.
“Shit- Vio!” My eyes widen and I immediately lunge to grab him, but he still ends up pulling me to my knees.
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I use my thighs to cushion his fall, quickly moving my hand under his head for support. I use my other hand to pull him closer to my body and see how his eyes are still closed. I begin to shake him gently, brushing hair strands out of his face for a clear view.
He just fainted on me…
“Vio, Vio! You with me?”
I didn’t get any response, but I wasn’t expecting any, yet I need him to at least be able to hear me. I move my arm under his back, the other under his legs, and lift him off the ground with ease. His body limps as I take a few steps to the bed, being cautious about any sudden movements. As I sit him down on the bed, I notice his eyes flutter open occasionally while his mouth still twitches but no words come out. His forehead feels cold to the touch and is sweating profusely. I grab a piece of cloth from the restroom, and set it on Vio’s forehead, letting it soak up all the sweat as I go light up a candle.
The exhaustion has taken over him, finally making him crumble.
I close the curtain, so the natural light isn’t so harsh on him, and set the candle on the nightstand. The candle gives enough light for me to see a chair across the room, so I go ahead and grab it, placing it next to Vio’s bed and taking a seat. I wasn’t intending on leaving him like this after all. And now even less that this just happened.
Seems like conveniently the outside world has quieted down a bit, and it’s starting to get chilly. I grab the cloth and gently wipe his face clean off sweat and the remnants of tears, while occasionally fanning him with a piece of paper that was already on the nightstand giving him some air. I could tell his skin is dry and nearly unclean, and he seems to have lost some weight as well.
I can't believe it has come to this, though.
I never intended for him to grow full to the brim in anger and have this as an outcome. And I didn't even think a situation like this would have hurt him so much. His thinking process has tanked, and it's not helping him think straight.
Ever since that day, a part of Vio has been lost. And he is trying to find it, but I simply can't let him do that. From what I know, Shadow can't simply be brought back to life, can he? His source of life was destroyed a long time ago; there's no way that can be fixed or there's no alternative way to keep him wandering the land of the living just fine. Besides, the light hurt him back when he was alive, so he can't be living with us in general. Even so, if I let this continue, we might as well lose Vio in the process too.
I sigh at the idea, and at the image before me. It still upsets me how it has come to this.
I grab the cloth and rub his face clean one last time before washing it and repeat the process. I wasn't planning on leaving him until he's back in his senses. When I suddenly see the candle fire squirm on the spot, while my ears pick a gentle whisper of air.
I look to the side and shiver, swearing that the window is closed and there's no possible way for wind to go in. The fire still squirms too, looking like it's trying to keep itself lit. I sit back down on the chair, seeing how the shadow from Vio against the wall behind morphs into something strange. A sound similar to a knocking emit from said wall, so I keep my eyes on it.
My eyes grow bigger when the shadow takes shape into something I'm familiar with…
"...Shadow Link?"
-
AO3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40077648
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Text
Chapter 3!
content warnings on the linked post, do not proceed without reading them.
( 1 & 2 )
"That’s the first thing Grian really registers about him; his face is drawn and haggard, stress lines carved into the spaces beneath his eyes, between his brows, around his mouth. He’s paler than a skeleton, which would be funnier under different circumstances. Have you been outside for even a minute this last week? Grian would've teased him in a better life, but in this world the question stalls in his throat, buzzing and hollow. It's not like he even has the energy to voice it, anyway– it's taking all his strength just to stay upright under Xisuma's careful scrutiny."
"in a better life",,, oh the wishing for something else he's convinced he couldn't ever have. something better.
"Xisuma coughs into his fist; with one smooth motion, he slips his helmet back into place, the metallic snap of its latches catching against the rest of his suit and reverberating through the barren room. For some reason, it sets the hairs on Grian’s arms standing on end."
as someone who has a good ol chunk of Why Are You Doing This, Body Of Mine reactions to trauma- yeah that'll happen bud.
"The last time they spoke– actually spoke, not whatever happened in the in-between– the light in Mumbo's eyes had shuttered, warmth bleeding from them like an open wound. A corpse replacing the full body of their friendship, tucked in the spaces between grief and cold, hard betrayal. He hadn't said a word while the other hermits argued over what to do with him. He hadn't needed to."
this (the highlighted text) connects back to when Grian woke up and the sun was described similarly as bleeding. this contents me. :) <3
"Grian shuts his eyes against the burning memory and breathes in, then out, slow. "Can't imagine why," he says into that cavernous darkness, dry and weary. "I don't reckon I've got many friends left back h– on Hermitcraft." "
BACK HOOOMMEEEEEEEEE
"When he opens his eyes again, Mumbo is staring at him, mouth set in a thin, pale line beneath his mustache. "Well, you've got that wrong," he says, clipped. "Considering we're literally standing right in front of you." "
It really speaks volumes to TJ's ability as a writer that im this invested in an aching narrative with the SILLIEST most ridiculous-looking (affectionate) minecraft men. like imagine my eyes watering over this, meanwhile its like- his name is Mumbo Jumbo. He looks like That. and YET (no actual shade to any of it, love that, love him and the tonal dissonance creates a beautiful melody actually)
'A stab of something ugly twists through Grian’s stomach. “That was kind of the plan, yeah.”'
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"The words come out leaden; this isn’t the first time today that he’s wished he was still unconscious, (...)"
ok listen this is a very serious moment but i cannot explain how fucking funny that line is to me- idk it just, caught me so off guard,, (also, been there)
"When he opens his eyes, a sliver of light is pouring through one of the cracks in the ill-fitting wall. It slashes across Mumbo’s face, painting the skin around his eyes with gold– highlighting every bruised vein, each miniscule worry line, every crease around his mouth. There’s a choice, here, lying in the space between Xisuma’s words and where he rests on the bed. An olive branch extended to unworthy hands. A fork in the broken, muddied path best left untraveled."
ok back to misery- read this and immediately, unconsciously did this pose:
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"It shouldn’t sting so fiercely. He’s spent almost a full year by himself, with nothing but the hunger, guilt, and his decaying code to keep him company. But beneath that layer of cultivated numbness is a raw, scraping wound, freshly torn. It’s only now, with the solitude pouring back into his cracks, that he can admit how much Mumbo’s anger stings."
oh buddy,,,, orz
"Then Scar glances down, meets his eyes, and jumps almost a mile out of his skin. “Oh!” He fumbles for a moment with his cane, snatching it before it can clatter to the floor. “Oh my gosh– Grian.” “Hi,” Grian rasps. “You scared the bejeezus out of me, oh my gosh.” Scar presses a hand to his heart, eyes wide. “You can’t just go around startling a man like that, you almost gave me a heart attack!”
oh ;_; thats so cute and bittersweet. also i cannot just, *not* hear it in his voice
But Scar only looks at him, something both sad and knowing in the glitter of his gaze.
GLITTER OF HIS GAZE???? GLITTER OF HIS GAZE???? SHAKING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS !!!!!!!!! thats so good. fuck you /pos
The rush of dread crashes over him like a wave. From a distance, he watches Scar's lips part, mouth working around the first shape of a syllable, but the sound doesn't pierce through the static crawling in his ears. Inside his mind is nothing but the white hiss of a creeper, curling like pale smoke.
i fucking love that the prose cannot be divorced from minecraft. that its engrained into the writing and that it wouldn't be the same without it. fuck yeah
No. If nobody will listen to him, if nobody will understand the grievous errors they've made– then Grian will have to fix this himself. Walk headfirst into the gaping maw of death and make a home there; claw apart the monster with his own bare hands. Deep inside his chest, some wailing thing crumbles; he'd hoped he wouldn't have to die alone.
OOF MY JAW CLENCHED SO HARD AT THIS PARAGRAPH. ALSO "Deep inside his chest, some wailing thing crumbles; he'd hoped he wouldn't have to die alone."???? DEVASTATING.
Grian shivers, and under Scar’s watchful, fretful gaze, carefully begins to plan.
DONT.
===================================
thoughts:
the building of dread, the wavering ties of tension, its winding and its release are beautifully choreographed.
i need to be sedated.
(this was written yesterday at like 2 smth am but i fully stand by it.)
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talayse · 1 year
Text
I’m generally not one for Modern AUs in MDZS, but my dreaming brain came up with the greatest last night, and it was a crossover . . .
So it starts with Bucky Barnes, he has what I call a dream NPC (a dream person who is basically faceless and genderless in my dreams) by the shirt, fists wrapped in the material, shaking the NPC and demanding, “Where is he?”
NPC, “I don’t know, why would I know?” (Lol, Nie Huiasang? Maybe.)
The dream then cuts to Wen Ning in a really awesome greenhouse, dare I say conservatory? Just massive, on the scale of the Longwood Gardens conservatory, if you’ve ever been there. And he’s peacefully gardening in this garden bed that is a miniature landscape, not just plants made to look like one, but miniature mountains, river, valley with very small cows. He’s clearly Wen Ning: Ghost General and my omnipotent dream knowledge tells me he’s survived all this time and now works growing plants that cultivators need for cultivator stuff.
Bucky shows up behind him, Wen Ning ignores him.
“I need your help with a job,” Bucky says.
Wen Ning continues to ignore him and picks up one of the cows to pet it.
Then Bucky’s metal arm starts buzzing. He holds his arm up and taps the underside and a secret compartment opens (Which is cool, why isn’t that canon?) out rolls a power blue VW Bug which is apparently also his phone. (dreams, man)
Wen Ning reaches up, taps the bumper which silences the phone and sends it back into the compartment.
“Are you really not going to help me?” Bucky asks.
Wen Ning sets down his tiny cow and stands up, “I’m going to get lunch.” (Which is weird, fierce corpses don’t eat.)
“Oh not Red’s again, they have too many rules.” (WTF does that mean Bucky? Dreams.)
The dream cuts to them standing in line at a really fancy McDonalds. Which is where it ends.
So yeah, Ghost General and Winter Soldier buddy fic I guess?
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aforgottenmercenary · 2 months
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If there is one thing he hates more than anything, Belmont hates, and I do mean HATES being away from his dear Iris.
If it's his dumb doing, then shame on him. If someone else takes her, they die. Low and behold, some guys with a deathwish decided to to just that.
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"Death."
He judged down as he saw the guys fleeing with a couple of his mercenary buddies in the mix. They were moving fast, but he was faster, a lot faster with his plates and mails falling off his body as he ran.
With an ax drawn, he whipped at the closest dude, fleeing for his life which didn't last long, both his time and his pace. Belmonts breathing became heavy, fierce. His eyes shrank and dilated as he felt his blood burning hot. Unsheathing his longsword, he made cut's to the necks and skulls of these roughnecks, doing his best to not harm his friends.
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"Quit running!"
His demand was met with opposite results, which didn't bother him. He never planned on leaving them alive. Even when got a lucky shot in his belly with a crossbow bolt, he never stop running.
Now people understand why he was affectionately called a bear, he's built like one and will not stop charging. One more head sliced clean off the remaining brigands before slamming his blade into the back of the last bandit holding his companion captive.
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"Fucker!"
Belmont broke out into a sprinting tackle to the man trying to rough off with his precious partner, getting close up and pushing him off in a way that forced him to let go of Iris before finally slamming him onto the ground and, like a wild animal, bites into his neck with enough force to break through the skin and try to peel away flesh.
His berserker's rage just letting him go full animalistic on his prey, giving him the worst death possible. After tearing off, the mercenary slipped his hand under his plate armor quickly to pull a concealed dagger, stabbing it in the man's head to kill him quick.
The rest tried to capture them again but with corpses full of weaponry, Belmont's included, they took up arms and fended off. Belmont lifted himself and the ringleader's body up before throwing at the charging bandits, drawing his greatsword and cleaving the three chargers in twain.
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"I'll kill all of you!"
With the taste of blood in his mouth, his eyes damn near darting everywhere, and muscles peaking through the tattered shirt, he charges headlong into the front to cut down more of these bandits.
There were around ten men in total...now there are none.
He stood over the last one, panting and holding his sword tight in his grasp, tight enough he could feel muscles strained and bones pop. He wasn't done fighting...he's never done fighting....more.
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"...more..."
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yustinamishka · 3 years
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Please support your local fierce corpse and buy their produce! 
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kitsune1818 · 3 years
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Just finished this. My hands were itching to do something in a traditional medium, so i dusted my copics and went to work.
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I love this three boys.
Sadly there is very few references of nmj as a fierce corpse. A friend sugested i go with the manhua version... but this is a sfw piece, i cant have nmj naked gloriousness here! (maybe next time).
Still working on digital pieces, but is slow going. Hopefully soon i will be done with at least one.
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