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buckttommy · 2 months

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quarter after one (i'm all alone and i need you now)

this post, now on ao3 for anyone who wants to bookmark it!

Summary:

“I thought I was going to die today.” Tommy makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. “Evan.” “No. I know. It’s just that—if I hadn’t somehow ended up in that little pocket of space, I-I would have been dead. And I know that’s the job. You know? It's—it’s what we both signed up for.” He rocks forward on his feet, partially fueled by fatigue, partially fueled by this desperate fucking need to be back in the comfort of his boyfriend’s orbit. “But I’m just really—I’m really glad I get to come home to you again.” Tommy’s face softens. “Oh, sweetheart.” or; Buck gets hurt on a call. Tommy is a protective boyfriend about it. just. shameless fluff tbh.

“I’m okay.”

Evan doesn’t actually know if he’s okay. His head throbs, for one, his vision blurring around the edges. He’s not entirely convinced he doesn’t have a concussion, and his ribs spit fire whenever he so much as tries to inhale. His arm—the one that’s not currently attached to the hand that’s gripping Tommy’s wrist like he’s scared he’ll float away—is broken, or at least he thinks it is, and he’s got a bunch of other scrapes and bruises that’ll give him hell in the morning.

So maybe he’s not okay (and judging by the way that Hen glares at him in his peripheral vision, maybe is starting to look like definitely), but he’s not dying.

That’s all that matters.

Tommy swallows tightly. His right hand clenches and unclenches at his side like he’s trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch, and it seems like he’s losing the battle. Evan appreciates the respect, appreciates the acknowledgement that he’s not out even in a situation as dire and terrifying as this one, but it’s a particular sort of agony to watch Tommy fight his instinct. Evan just doesn’t know which one of them it’s hurting more.

Tommy clears his throat. “When Chimney called and said that—that you were hurt…”

“I know.” Evan has been on the receiving end of a call like that more than once. The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, fragile smile that sends more blood spilling down his face. “I’m sorry I freaked you out. I didn’t mean to do that to you.”

He doesn’t mention that he, too, was also freaked out. Not because he thinks Tommy can’t take it or doesn’t want to hear it, but because he doesn’t know how to say it without having the whole situation feel abruptly, horrifyingly real.

When the building came down, all he saw was rebar and ash and cement, and if he’s honest, he’s still not sure how he made it out of there. Still not sure whether it was pure survival instinct that had him clawing out of that air pocket or whether some benevolent god reached down and gave him a helping hand. Either way, he’s not complaining. He knows what it’s like to be the one waiting for information, to think you’re about to live the worst day of your life.

He’s glad he didn’t do that to Tommy.

This time.

read the rest on ao3

#jack.txt #my fic #bucktommy #i have one more bullet in the chamber and then i'm done #until next week. haha #tv: 911

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decepti-thots · 1 month

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while i'm talking about Whirl, one thing i've been meaning to talk about for ages just in a 'i am aware some people may not actually know this, and it hardly gets mentioned in fandom' is that Whirl in Interiors talking about briefly trying to change his name when he was a flight instructor at the flight academy is a reference to a passage in Bullets, which is in retrospect very obviously him:

Jetstream had taught him to recognize his inherent worthlessness. In front of the other cadets he'd always been supportive, but in private he would berate him for showing off and for getting ideas above his station. “You think you're something special?” he used to say. “You think you’re better than the rest, better than me, just because you can turn a few tricks? On a good day - on your best day - I’d say you were unremarkable.” Rotorstorm’s only response to Jetstream’s verbal abuse was to make jokes. If you can make light of the situation, he'd think, it can’t be as bad as it seems. Over time, Jetstream’s verbal abuse... evolved. On one occasion, Rotorstorm was pushed against a wall. On another, he was punched to the floor. Before long, he was on the receiving end of sustained and entirely unprovoked beatings. The worst day of Rotorstorm’s life - worse than the day war was declared; worse than the day of the Simanzi Massacre - was the day the IAA installed a Cryogenic Regeneration Chamber. He couldn't remember what he’d done to deserve that night's battering, but as he lay on the floor of the aircraft hangar, his torso freshly pummeled, his spinal strut bent at a right angle and his face reduced to a shallow bowl of oil and splinters, he saw something he would never forget: Jetstream was standing over him, fists clenched and head cocked, coolly appraising his options. And the look of exhilaration on his face as he wondered where to place the next punch had been terrifying. Rotorstorm had passed out before Jetstream had finished shoveling him into the CR Chamber, and had woken up the next day without a single scratch on his body. Jetstream had left overnight; he moved to a training facility in another province and later changed his name. Since then, Rotorstorm had seen him only once: he'd been sitting in the front row when Rotorstorm had been awarded the Novic Medal for Outstanding Valor, and he’d been clapping and cheering more loudly than anyone else.

and this is a really fascinating thing to consider for me because if you just describe the whole thing briefly in the abstract, it's gonna likely sound like one of two things:

whirl tried to turn over a new leaf with a new name, and it worked for a time but ultimately he couldn't and went back to his old life

whirl tried to turn over a new leaf with a new name, but he couldn't and was just as much of an aggro wildcard as ever so gave up

but this is... kind of not either of those, including the last one? whirl IS acting like the violent, bitter, unpredictable asshole we come to meet in MTMTE and know he was during the war, to an extent, but he's also clearly succesfully keeping up something of a facade of really inhabiting that 'not Whirl, nope, i'm a Normal Flight Instructor' in public. it's only to rotorstorm he's not, seemingly. (and even then, the way rotorstorm describes him here is... really cold and deliberate in a way that feels kind of different to what we see later.)

obviously it's. i mean it's SO deeply unpleasant, very effectively communicated in terms of how awful and traumatising that kind of thing is btw a+ but also Jesus Fucking Christ, but it also suggests to me a very specific experience Whirl is having in this period of his life that isn't quite either of those obvious choices. pokes at it. god. what the fuck is going through your head you terrible helicopter you.

#idw #rotorstom #whirl #meta

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catierambles · 7 months

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follow up to this

She was quiet as she lay in bed, her thigh open to the air so it could dry. The wound was ugly, dark furrows and pock marks where the holy water had eaten away at her flesh, the area around it deep red and angry, already shiny with plasma. She tensed every so often as the angry nerves acted up and hissed as it jostled the wound.

Taking the gun from his waistband, he checked the safety before popping the magazine, ejecting the round from the chamber and putting the bullet back into the magazine before sliding it back into the gun. He didn't chamber a round again, keeping it empty as he double checked the safety, putting it back into the holster behind the headboard. Never have a round chambered unless you're planning on shooting it in the near future, always treat a gun like it's loaded even if you know it isn't, never leave the safety off if you're not actively handling the weapon. Old habits from the service, but good ones to maintain.

He hadn't said anything as he worked, but he could feel her eyes on him. Once the pistol was secured, he sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, running a hand over his scalp. His hair was starting to get a bit long, might need to buzz it down again soon. Another old habit, but it was easier to take care of like this.

"Three years." He said, "Three fuckin' years, Annalisa, we've been together and you never thought to tell me?"

"I thought about it everyday when we started getting serious, when you started keeping some of your things here."

"Why didn't you?"

"I was scared."

"Of me?"

"Of how you would react." She said and he sighed again, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Have I ever given you the feelin' I would hurt you? Ever? About anythin'?"

"Never."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to."

"When?" He asked, "When it started gettin' impossible to hide? When I was old and gray and you were...exactly how you are now? Fuck, Annie."

"I'm sorry." She said and he got up, grabbing his T-shirt from the floor and putting it on, stepping into his boots without his socks and pulling the laces tight. "Where--where are you going?"

"Out for a drive." He said, "Clear my head."

"I love you." He stopped at the bedroom door but didn't say anything, leaving and closing the door behind him.

He sat in his truck for a long while, his key in the ignition but the engine quiet. He wanted to drive away, but he didn't want to take the chance of the wannabe Winchester's coming back while he wasn't there and she was injured. The sun started to rise, casting the sky in red and oranges and still he sat there. He's seen her out in the sun, he knew she had a reflection. The crucifix that had been shoved in her face hadn't seemed to do anything, but the holy water had severely burned her.

With a sigh, he got out of his truck, locking the doors and heading back into the house. He kicked off his boots in the entryway, pulling off his shirt as he walked up the stairs. His jeans were off by the time he got to the bedroom, left on the floor of the bathroom. She was laying on her side, her thigh wrapped in an ace bandage, but he could see the padding of gauze underneath. She had treated her injury herself, something he should have done for her, but he wasn't here.

Three years. He loved her, more than he's ever loved any woman he's been with. She loved him better than he's ever been loved and she was it for him. His endgame. He was even thinking about calling up his ma and asking her to send him his grandmas ring.

Sliding onto the bed, he scooted close to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, hearing her wake with a gasp.

"Shh, baby." He whispered, "It's me."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"I love you."

"I love you, too." Sy said, "Go back to sleep, I'll be here when you wake up. I'm not goin' anywhere."

#henry cavill #captain syverson

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internetskiff · 7 months

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I think Empress Tihana is a pretty underrated Amnesia character. I find it hard to call her outright evil because despite everything she's sort of as much a prisoner of circumstance as the others. Everything she's done was out of a misguided belief that it'll end up saving Tasi's child. Yes, she's damned half the crew of the Cassandra to turning into monsters, but it seems like a sort of response to Tasi rejecting her initial offer. It's fucked up, but it seems she did it in hopes Tasi would be more open to suggestion under the effects of it - she still wanted to save her child even then. Judging by the fairytale retelling of her rule over Zerzura, I'm not even sure how much say she had in becoming "The Last and Eternal" Empress of her bloodline. " 'Nonsense', said the wise people, 'We will brew you a magic potion, and then you will live forever.' " - makes it sound as if it was mostly the Alchemist's idea. Brings me to another point, but she and another Zerzurian seems to be the only real example of how an overabundance of Vitae can affect the anatomy:

You see all the roots sprouting all over her throne chamber? I don't think they're plants at all. Judging from the fact that she can command them, willing them to move and even using them to try and tear open a wall during one of the endings, I think this is all actually an extension of her body. She's sprouted out all over the room. I'm not even sure if the way her head split open is a direct result of some sort of surgical intrusion to supply her with Vitae or if her head split open as her body began to grow more and more reliant on the supply, deforming and spreading until it covered her entire throne room. Kita seems to suffer from the same effects, though to a lesser extent since unlike the Empress, who's feeding on an entire city's worth of suffering, he seems to have been leeching off of one single leyden jar of Vitae the whole time.

He's been encased in similar vines that seem to have sprouted from his legs, basically trapped in his chair for the rest of his life. I'm not sure if this is specifically how Zerzurian anatomy reacts to Vitae or if the human body would suffer similar effects if one tried to overextend their lifespan as those two have. Considering Kita calls his Vitae intake a "meagre portion", the amount of suffering Alexander collected during his time as the Baron of Brennenburg barely even equates to a single jar. It explains why he looks so old and withered compared to Kita and The Empress, his intake must've been enough to keep him alive but not enough to keep the effects of aging at bay. Thinking about it, there is a single example of how Vitae would affect human anatomy, but it is combined with the effects of turning into a Ghoul.

Lambert seems to be what happens when a Ghoul is allowed to absorb the Vitae inside of their system. I believe the only reason Rebirth's ghouls are so gangly and twitchy (and relatively humanoid) is because they are immediately bled dry of their accumulated Vitae by Alchemist machinery. Lambert on the other hand moves relatively smoothly, like an animal, and he has become a lot larger as a result of his environment, war being inherently a breeding groud for human suffering and therefore the perfect environment to cultivate Vitae. There is no one to take it from him, so his metamorphosis is allowed to progress even further. It's even more off-putting considering even now he seems to be only halfway done turning into something else. I think in the ending where you allow him to escape into No Man's land he will eventually grow into something even worse as he now has an unlimited supply of soldiers to torture, both enemy and ally. He seems to realize bullets do nothing to him during the encounter in the Roman ritual pit, so in that ending Henri has basically unleashed a near-unstoppable monster out into the world. Vitae offers an indefinite extension of life, but not without leaving it's mark on the user's body. Tasi's child would probably end up just as warped as The Empress if left in her care.

#Amnesia #Amnesia: Rebirth #Amnesia Rebirth #Kita #Empress Tihana #Alexander of Brennenburg #Zerzura #Amnesia: The Bunker #Amnesia the bunker #Lambert #Rambling

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spinningwebsandtales · 1 month

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Imagine Having A Drink With Koji

Slight Koji Shimazu X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Violence, injuries, blood, drinking, mentions of death, and a sprinkle of angst

Word Count: 881

Bullets whizzed by your head as you quickly darted for cover. Your chest heaving, trying to catch your breath as you quickly ejected the clip from your pistol and reloaded another one. Mashing the button to lock the slide back into place, and loading another bullet in the chamber, you prepared to dive back into the fray. Koji immediately rounded the corner, sheathing his blade as he found a place right beside you. His glare spoke a thousand words as he too tried to catch his breath, while wiping at the blood trickling down his cheek.

"I told you that you wouldn't be bored if you came with me," you smirked.

"I wasn't bored beforehand," he retorted. "We were both assigned this job if you can't recall."

"Ohhhh so that's why you are here," you tapped your chin thoughtfully. "I thought it was because you couldn't let me go alone and you wanted to protect me!"

"Absolutely not. The High Table knew you needed a leash since you enjoy being an unhinged lunatic."

"Lighten up Koji," you winked before running out from your cover. "Life's too short to be a stick in the mud!"

Koji heaved a sigh, muttering every curse he knew in Japanese. He was glad you had yet to teach yourself how to speak his language as it would only derail into more teasing and arguments.

Koji helped you across The Continental barrier, your arm around his shoulders and his arm wrapped around your waist. Your blood dripping onto the floor, but you were grinning widely at the job well done. Both stained in blood and wounded but returning triumphant always made you feel like you were on top of the world. Koji shook his head, but couldn't fight the smile that came to his lips.

"After we're patched up let's go get drinks," he said.

You nodded excitedly. "You're buying right? It's not proper to make a lady buy her own drinks."

He glared jabbing you in the side with his sheathed katana, causing you to suck in a breath. "Since when have I ever made you buy the drinks?"

"There was that one time," you pouted.

"You offered," he replied bluntly.

"Oh yeah," you winked and Koji sighed.

This was his fate he believed. But as far as friendship went, yours was the best he had minus his friendship with John Wick.

In the private bar room, freshly bandaged and dressed in clean clothes you waited in a secluded chair in the corner. It didn't take long for Koji to order the drinks and flip the coin to the bartender behind the counter. This sort of life wasn't for the faint of heart but if you could stomach the work and laugh in the face of death, you could make it big. But it was moments like these that you enjoyed the most. Naturally assassins went on jobs together, but you never knew when the call would go out to hunt down one another. You prayed that the day never came that the order never came to hunt down anyone you were close to. Especially Koji. Yes he acted like you annoyed him and you probably did, but you two were so close. The thought of having to take his life turned your stomach. While skilled and able to give you a run for your money, your relationship with Koji went far back.

The clink of glass against the wooden table jolted you from your thoughts. Taking the glass you gulped down the contents quickly.

"I didn't think I was that bad of company," Koji teased before taking a swig.

"When you're not acting like an old man you're pretty decent company," you snorted.

Koji rolled his eyes, "Thanks. I suppose."

You traced your finger around the mouth of the glass, refusing to look at Koji. He was good at reading minds and you didn't want him prying just yet. Though the quiet was getting annoying.

"Koji?"

"Hmm?"

You sighed, "Let's promise to help each other out no matter what."

He raised an eyebrow but still listened intently, "What brings this up?"

"I'm just worried," you relented though keeping your voice down. "That we could be sent against one another one day."

"Thinking about ticking off the High Table are you," he joked.

"Absolutely not!"

"Color me surprised," he retorted.

You looked away embarrassed. Before Koji took your hand and rubbing a thumb across the calloused skin.

"You don't even have to say anything," Koji replied. "I'm always here for you."

You nodded, emotions clogging your throat. The words strangled as he laid a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

"I'll go get you another drink," he said releasing your hand.

All you could do was nod, while you watched Koji walk away. You loved your life and you were good at what you do. But you would throw it all away just to stay by his side. It didn't matter what the High Table wanted, if they wanted you to go against the man who had saved you in more ways than one, then they would just have to send an army against you. Nothing meant more to you than Koji and you had a feeling you meant a lot to him too.

#Koji Shimazu X Reader #Koji Shimazu / Reader #Koji Shimazu #John Wick #John Wick Imagine #Koji Shimazu Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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lost-technology · 9 months

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I wonder of anyone has done ficlets for Trigun that are SCP Foundation crossovers or SCP entries for Vash, Knives / Nai, possibly Wolfwood and the various Gung-Ho Guns, too? Like, if I do a little more research into the archive or watch certain SCP Animation Explained on Youtube entries again... I could see Vash, captured by the foundation, manages to charm the staff enough to avoid some of the worst testing situations (you know, don't want him to end up like Tesla), is cross-tested with various other SCPs. He's one of the few people who can come out of the chamber with the Bullet Cat alive - it's very friendly towards him. He enjoys chats with "God." Interesting conversations with Dr. Bright happen over the curse of immortality. Vash gets regular therapy sessions with 999 / the Tickle Monster and they eat donuts together. He was once cross-tested with the Hard to Destroy Reptile until a researcher halted the test on the grounds that if the lizard ate him, it might gain access to the Angel Arm and nobody wants that. Vash is probably classed Euclid. Does containment-breach frequently as he claims he must track down someone called "Knives," also "I have to meet Meryl, Milly and Wolfwood for donuts and coffee, it's been three weeks already and they probably think I'm dead!" However, his containment breaches are some of the few at the Foundation that end in zero fatalities. Containment procedure often includes playing on Vash's kind and self-sacrificing nature by taking hostages until he complies.

#trigun #vash the stampede #scp foundation #stupid crossover ideas

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offbranddrpepsi · 2 years

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hello can i request a chamber x agent!reader who tried to surprise chamber with a cheesy candlelit dinner date in his apartment after they both have returned from a mission. However the mission went far more hectic than expected and now both agents are too exhausted to cook. also the reader may or not be a selective mute and a male cOUGh CougH

from a totally unfamiliar, not all suspicious anon who may not be under your bed

I absolutely adore you but enjoy fighting my cats for the space under my bed <3

Change of plans ship: Chamber x M!Reader Rating: General, mention of injuries. Fluff Length:963 words

Soreness crawled itself across his body as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. It was absolutely awful that the elevator had to be down now of all times but he would manage like always. The recent mission he had been assigned on was hectic to say the least. He was using his abilities past their limits and had been on the receiving end of far too many concusses, his ears still ringing. At one point he had even come face to face with Breach's mirror. The large Swed easily overpowered him but Vincent managed to escape before a bullet found its place in his head. Instead his shoulder has been dislocated and it had to be popped back into place in the vulture, Yoru doing so quickly as if he was an expert in the matter. His body wasn't the only thing in near tatters. The normally crisp suit was bloodied and ripped in several areas which caused him some displeasure. Even his glasses had been cracked on one of its lenses, a black eye already evident on the eye that shared it. To say he was exhausted was an understatement, he was entirely done with this day. The cherry on top was the fact his tattoos were irritated due to the over use of his abilities. They itched and burned like the worse type of sunburn but there was little he could do about it besides take a cold bath. Arriving at the much needed door to his apartment he found it unlocked. Opening the door without a moment of caution he pulled himself inside, throwing the duffle bag he carried near his shoe rack. A glow from the living room alerted him that the homes other occupant had arrived although earlier than he had. "Chaton, (kitten)" he called out as he removed his shoes and vest, draping the ruined fabric over his arm. His boyfriend was an agent much like himself, the two of them keeping their relationship quiet to avoid unwanted prying. Both had been sent on separate missions with barely enough time to bid their farewells. Typically such short notice wasn't bad for the duo, but his boyfriend seemed slightly irritated as they boarded their separate vultures.

A loud groan alerted him to his loves place on their couch, the other man's lack of proper words being something normal. Vincent made his way to him, finding them still in their gear laying with an arm covering their face. "Is something wrong?" he asked with a raised brow. His partners other arm quickly shot out and pointed at their kitchen, drawing his eyes towards it. To his surprise there sat their nicer table settings, two unlit candles place neatly in the middle. Glasses, silverware, and empty plates sat ready awaiting their meal. Looking back to their boyfriend he had uncovered his face, it sporting a severe pout. "It was meant to be a surprise but then the missions happened and I'm too tired" He signed quickly, Chamber being just barely able to hang onto his words as his hands moved with ferocity. The mutism itself was enough to tell him that his partner was upset if not overwhelmed but the frustrated expression painting the other man's feature only made it more obvious. As tears peaked in his love's eyes Vincent dropped his vest to the floor dropping himself to their side. "It's okay (Y/N), It's okay" Large hands found warm cheeks while thumbs wiped away warm tears. Vincent kissed the corner of his dear sweet boyfriends eyes, speaking softly. "We can order some take out and watch that new movie you were going on about. Does the bakery down the street sound alright? Or maybe the italian place we had a few months ago?" As he listed off option after option he found that the man in his arms was vibrating. Upon further inspection he realized that you were curled in on yourself giggling through your tears. With a smile finding his face he gave your cheek a squish, "Now what do you find so funny?" It took a few moments before the other man moved, pointing to the space around his eyes. Reaching a hand up, Vincent found that he currently only had half of a pair of glasses on. In his haist to comfort his boyfriend the other half must have finally given out and fallen to the floor. Pulling the remains of his glasses off his face, placing them gently onto the coffee table, he turned back to his partner. His face was still red and wet with tears but seemed to be in far better condition that his own, something the designer was grateful for. With a single large breath he started attacking the other mans face, placing fluttering kisses across it. Much more audible giggles arose, echoing off the walls. Vincents own would join them as he wrapped his arms around them, resting his forehead against their own as he stopped his assault. "Better?" All he got was a small nod followed by a head being buried in his shoulder, that was more than enough for him. "Okay then, lets get you to the room so I can get everything sorted, yes?" Not even waiting for an answer he scooped (Y/N) up, earning a small sound of surprise from the other man. Despite how sore he was and how utterly exhausted his body felt he would always have the strength to tote the other man around. Ascending the stairs and finding their bedroom door he sat the man down on their shared bed, handing him his phone. "Order what you'd like then I'll join you after I change." With another nod he was off to get into some much more comfortable clothing.

#chamber x reader #chamber valorant #valorant #valorant x reader

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boyakishantrinity · 5 months

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The Blades.

I don't know if I've ever told this before. But when the major figures shifted towards engaging into a war, whoever hadn't been pulled into the swarming mass. Well, there was a problem with man power.

Waging a war was expensive, people began to bend people, pull and push them into working for them and only their allies. It was how I ended up in this shit.

Walking towards the same old path, the hill long since abandoned, a pair of gods and one of their priestesses. With fields of wheat, trees sprouted as the remnants of trash were absorbed and eaten.

People forgot about this place ages ago, the name arepo long since dying out, reborn way back in the 2020's. And coming back now, with reality showing disparities. People would sometimes show up here, come back. Most who stayed now fought and protected this land. A growing number, I looked towards the hill.

Covered in flowers, the breeze blowing calmly, the soft remnants of hundreds of tiny insignificant things. The large upkeep of the land done by the people, children stopping their play as the stranger walked forward.

"... Who are you?"

Black hair, tan face with a kind smile. An unsettling presence like something was wrong with the woman, but she didn't. Act, look or truly feel strange. The child smiled, looking at her.

"... Mate, just reveal your true form or whatever. I'm tired of riddles, I've come to pay respects and ask a few questions."

The three kids looked at each other, the eldest of them called out.

"How did you-"

"Either you let me in or I'll letting myself in."

Squinting, tense. Their forms shifting to more adult, the dark skinned group of young teens pausing as one laughed it off.

"uh huh, well-"

Shouting her gun, to them, coat shifting as she looked at them.

"You let me in, or I let me in."

"... Woah-"

"You listen here-"

"Wait a second-"

Raising the gun out, snarling as she aimed it at them.

"I don't have the fucking patience to wait for you stooges to catch up. Either let me in, or I get in."

Again, looking between themselves, one gripping a rock as the woman opened the revolver's chamber. Shoving bullets into the hole and snapping them back, she took aim at one of the teens as they stepped back.

"Don't try to run, don't call for help. I've got a shit ton of people coming for my ass, if I don't get this done in the next seven minutes this place will be swarmed by a bunch of mercs."

"... You-"

Pulling a gun on her, glaring as she explained in a slower dumb voice.

"Me getting chased by bad people. I need to talk to arepo and his spouse so I can do a thing to not get swarmed. I don't have time to explain or comfort, either let me in or this place will get swarmed and at that point you'll be fucked."

Glaring into their soul, breathing heavily, she motioned for them to open the gate.

She'd grabbed their wrist, Arepo calling out in shock, the woman stabbing into their neck after warning her. Immediately tackled, pulled away, the god gripping their hand. Gasping, before something burst from them. The wound vanishing, woman grunting as she was lifted up. The large man holding her called out.

"WHAT THE FUCK-"

Shoving her foot into his balls, biting the arm of the other person at one arm, before throwing a punch into the person to her left. Stumbling onto her side. Cursing as she landed onto her shoulder.

"... What- what did you do???"

Gasping, hand gripping their wound as she spat onto the floor.

"Fuck you think? I would've told you, but those gate guards didn't give me enough time."

Helping herself up, glaring at Arepo to try stop her. Priestess sitting there, servants frozen as she wiped her mouth. Coughing, grumbling as she stretched herself. Looking at the god.

"you're welcome, don't fucking ask me how long it took to find that shit. Not only did I need to find a way to give you a body, but I also had to figure out a way to make your ass cover me while I figure some shit out. Also, ow. That fucking hurt you. CUNT."

Kicking the groaning man's arm, shouting in pain as he rolled over. His daughter rising, shaking her head as she gripped her hand.

"... HEY DON'T KICK MY DAD- ... Did you b-"

"So what if I did, you wouldn't let me fucking-"

Hand at her neck, Arepo snarling as he lifted her off the ground.

"ARE YOU INSANE-"

"Yes? I can't. Breath. You..."

"-WHAT IF THAT DIDN'T- GAH!"

Kicking into his balls, now gasping for breath as she raised a hand.

"Jesus... Christ. I'm sorry I didn't fucking plan or think this through or whatever. But who gives a shit. I would've done something else, but... Ah whatever. What's your name, you good?"

Turning to the goddess, blinking, body shifting as they gripped their head.

"I- it. It hurts."

"... Oh right, Sun mentioned that. Uhhh. Hey, if you can hear me. Think about your body returning into air!"

Calling to them, gripping their neck, eyes widening to Arepo. And then a flash of light.

Stirring the tea, Arepo glaring at her as she calmly drank tea at the table.

"... What is wrong with you???"

He finally stated, glaring at her. Young, nanites swarming across her body as she chuckled.

"I told you, I'm crazy. Now. Bitch boy-"

"THEY ARE NOT A BITCH BOY."

Shouting at her, hands slamming the table. Priestess glaring at the woman, snarling as she looked at both of them.

"... I- I really don't mind-"

"See? But for your benefit mate. No name, I'm gonna need to borrow a smidge of your power..."

And now I will have more on AO3. There will be no new updates pages or anything. Toodles! :3

#the god of arepo #tag #Triage #Pig #writing #Aura

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meirimerens · 6 months

Note

Fourfold bullet questions: 1 & 2? (let's start by the beginning!)

let's indeed!!!!!!!

what is thanatica?

what is the capital?

i actually really like that these two questions are asked in pair... i actually think it makes my answer way easier... i'm seeing a format for my answer i'm seeing a format. two for one (hah. like the):

i am not immune to Making Shit Up about buildings you know i'm not. i like giving them like. tangible life & i have done. i have written about the tangible reality of Thanatica (the autopsy theatre, the dome, etc) in [this fucking thing] but because of the very nature of the narrative, & of the narrative as A Game, that they have inherent. hmmm... in(com)prehensible tendencies. thanatica is an utopia, or rather a prototype of utopia. a... fledgling. seedling. nestling. the thing with utopiae is that once they're realized, their "utopic" form crumbles; they just become topiae. thanatica is an experi(ence/ment). it's a preservation chamber, and it is a vial of preserving fluid inside of the bigger vial of the Capital. it borders on parasitic; feeding off the (abstract concept of) The Capital as a narrative device, a narrative place, and off the (more material, believed/read/imagined) urban shape of the Capital. it is fun thinking about where it would be, what the neighborhood would look like. the tiles, the beams, the decorated door.

you know how in Aiskhylos' Agamemnon and in Sophokles' Elektra, the killings are done out of view, off-stage, but you can still hear the screaming? that's what Thanatica and the Capital are. they're scenes off-scene, in which real, life-changing things happen but you cannot see, from which you can hear the screaming... smiles widely

THANK YOU... [ask me some more and make me rake my brain wrinkles for your entertainment]

#plwease oh pwease?#ask meme #ring ring (answers)#anonymous

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felassanis · 2 years

Text

Legacy Of The Sparrow WIP - Reaver x F!Sparrow

This is a WIP of a full story I am planning on making. So please lemme know what you think! I am refraining from posting it to AO3 in case I need to make any alterations as I map out the chapters.

Reaver tries and fails to understand just exactly what about “Until I return to kill you and take back what's rightfully mine,” had been lost in translation.

He was rather certain his feelings on the matter were made quite clear. In print nevertheless! How could anyone expect him to be more clearer than that?! It was as if they were begging to have their heads blown all over the walls, honestly!

Reaver even thought it an improvement on the wallpaper. Considering it was not his wallpaper in the first place.

They couldn't just contend with squatting in his Bloodstone Manor. Oh no, they had also stripped it of any trace of Reaver’s personality. Taking it upon themselves to completely refurbish the manor as they saw fit. And in their rampant warpath his oil paintings had been pulled from the walls. His collection of titillating contraptions…gone! Tossed and burned with his old sex chamber switched into a bloody office.

They’d even done away with Reaver’s Rear Passage. Blocking the entrance with thick, hard, concrete…Seriously. Not every manor had a secret escape tunnel. They must lead awfully dreadful lives to never see the usefulness of one.

“No, this won’t do at all,” He mumbles to himself.

Blowing smoke from the barrel of Dragonstomper, Reaver steps over a row of bodies casually. Only slightly fretting what the spilled blood pouring from between their eyes would do to his floorboards. He wondered briefly, in a spurt of awareness, if anyone would miss the throuple. Only to then realise he didn’t care. In fact, there were far more pressing issues….

On his trip back from Samarkand, he’d lost all the wealth he’d accumulated from the distant, barbaric land of sand. His ship The Reaver unfortunately lost her battle to Albion’s sharp and twisted coasts on the trip home. His beloved finally finding her watery grave after many long years at last. And with it, Reaver’s reapings from Samarkand.

Now he’s found his second beloved abused, mutilated, and tortured in rampant bright colours and shackled by domesticity. Oh well, at least he still has his vault. No one in Albion could crack the code to his belly of riches that lay beneath Bloodstone Manor.

“Reaver, sir!”

The bald man who appeared suddenly from nowhere had made him flinch. Something so undeniably humiliating that Reaver nearly put a bullet in him right then and there to save face. And he damn well would have, were it not the scout he had sent out earlier.

“M’sorry sir! I-I just had news! The news you wanted me to get for ‘yer!”

Now here was some village missing its idiot. The man holds his hands up in a delayed reaction as Dragonstomper glares at him with one big, deep, black eye. And as tempting as it was to pull the divine trigger…he was one of the few fools left from Reaver’s old crew who hadn’t been snatched by the wilds of Samarkand or died in the subsequent shipwreck.

“Well? Quickly now lad! Before I completely do away with the notion of ‘don’t shoot the messenger’,”

“Well, I know we ‘ant been back from Samarkand long. But shit’s changed, sir. Some o’ the locals heard the gunshots, sir. Before stuff got prim ‘n proper, people might’ve joined in innit? Bit ‘o fun, bit o’ target practice like for the kiddies. Not these lot. Mighty fearful they were. They’ve gone ‘an told on you, sir,” He explains quickly.

“Told on me?” Reaver keens in interest. Tasting the question on his tongue like sugar. “My, and whom have they told on me to, I wonder? A teacher? The guards? Oh I'm unequivocally shivering in my breeches…”

He could do with the target practice after all this. Keen to let out his frustrations on the populace stupid enough to come after him.

“No, sir. They’ve gon’ and told the Queen,”

Reaver blinks. “Since when was there a bloody Queen?”

--------

“Your form is sloppy. Any pisspot who remembers he has legs could kick your weight out from under you,”

Walter relents his picky point with another strike of the blade. Hurtling towards her at such a hard, unwavering speed that she barely has time to use the side of her blade to throw him off as he rams.

Stunned, she teters backwards. Barely staying on her feet as Walter flicks the blade to his side pompously. Circling her with a cocky smile that curls under his brown moustache.

“Embarrassing for a queen,”

She lets out an undignified huff. “I’ll show you embarrassing,”

Walter comes bounding towards her like a bull, sword like horns, as he darts. Rather than exert unnecessary energy, Sparrow extends her hand outwards. Her palm directed at Walter. With a sudden gust of force, the propulsion of her Will fizzles into reality. Sending him flying back like an insect caught in a vengeful wind and with it, his sword clattering to the ground.

Walter rises to his feet, smile completely wiped off his face. “I said no magic!"

“There are no rules in battle, dear Walter,”

“Not in writing. But dirty tactics and cheap tricks aren’t honourable,” He picks up his sword, aiming the tip towards her in accusation. “Troops look up to their leader. To find her throwing dirt in an opponent's eye to win is hardly inspirational,”

Sparrow shrugs. The act of exerting Will was hardly cheap tactics in her eyes. With a wave of her hand, she could conjure a frightening row of swords with the ease of breath. Aim them true, and her enemies would become human pincushions before they landed a single hit. Lightning and fire bowed to her whim. The very earth would bend and break if she wanted it, cowering under her might. What was cheap about that? It was hardly comparable to throwing dirt in someone’s eye.

But Walter had always been very by the book. He’d sooner lose a battle than win by tricks and wit. She supposed there was a fairness in that, something to admire. But it also felt short sighted. She could not have relied on Lucien Fairfax to prepare honourable tactics back when. Doing so would have seen her dead. As it saw so many others dead.

“My apologies, Walter,” She nods to her old friend. Perhaps it was unfair to exert Will over someone who was not a Hero. “Would you like to knock me off my feet again? I know you love it when I fall underneath you,”

Her tease is not lost on him, as evident by the hook in his brow. “Always saying what’s on your mind, eh lass?”

“I don’t say everything that’s on my mind. You’d be blushing to your toes if I said everything I’m thinking of,”

He lets out a roar of laughter at that, which makes her smile. He could be very serious when he wanted to be, too serious. The job of being her bodyguard had all but sapped the humour out of him. She wished nothing more that behind closed doors, he’d drop the dutiful act and be Walter Beck again. Like they were in the old days.

When Walter starts to pace towards her something clutches her chest, winding it tightly into a knot of anticipation. Maybe, just maybe, her teasing had struck a chord. Finally. His eyes hold something close to courage, something closer to need. Desire…

Only for it to be wounded when he stops a foot from her.

He looks like he wants to say something. His mouth hangs open, before closing promptly.

“Come, your highness. Your council will be waiting in the throne room,”

She deflates, disappointed. But hardly surprised.

“No rest for the wicked, eh?”

She sheathes her sword, shoving into her belt roughly like a careless punch. Side by side the two of them make their way through Castle Fairfax in silence, arriving at the doors to the throne room also as such. Where her council awaited, and where her day was about to be ruined.

Outside the hall's doors is Jasper. An elderly man, trussed up in a buttoned up suit with slicked back hair white as snow. He spots the duo, quickly checking that his collar was in top shape as if she’d care. In his hand is a red velvet cushion holding her crown.

“Your majesty,” The butler takes a bow, holding the cushion perfectly poised as he bends.

“Jassy,” She replies, taking hold of the crown and nestling it quickly on her head.

They enter the hall alongside the thundering cascade of the large oak doors being swung open by Walter, who urgently holds the door aside for his queen. The room is cast into an immediate hush, eyes trailing towards the lithe frame of Sparrow. Twinkling like the sockets of skulls. Crimson banners bearing Sparrow’s sigil drape from the ceiling, matching the elongated carpet that flowed across the marble floor towards her throne…

With a deep breath that blows up her lungs, Sparrow walks down the centre of the hall with practised grace. Though her throne rubbed her in all the wrong places, and the crown wrapped around her temples like a wreath plucked from thorns that provoked a headache, she would never show it. She could feign grace, feign poise and manners, things she had never embraced in her heart truly. It was all an act, a mask, a barricade to deflect the staring and hushed whispers that descended upon her court. She flaunted this facade for five years, it came naturally to her now.

All she had to consciously not trip over this damn carpet.

As she ascends to her throne and settles her bony arse in the stone seat. The first noble wastes no time in taking the stand.

“Your Majesty, Queen Sparrow,”

She recognised the noble. An older man who went by Cotton Filly; befitting of his name was a head of greyish curls that fell to his shoulders like cobwebs. He was built similarly to a doll made fashioned from clay that had been pulled and stretched by a meaner older brother. Sometimes it baffled her that answering to her authority meant taking such…pissants seriously.

As the man spills his drivels, her eyes begin to wander. In a room filled to the brim with people there was comfort that amongst the sea of faces at least one was known to her.

Searching for his gaze, she finally catches Walter Beck’s eyes. Who watches her from afar at his post at the other end of the hall. He can read her better than anyone and knows she’d rather be anywhere else. Alas, all he can just about offer is a sympathetic look.

“The current climate of the region is appealing to you to find a suitable husband. Someone of good standing who understands what it means to be a leader. And who can provide a strong and capable heir to rule in your stead when you are gone,"

Her eye twitches irritably as she is taken out of her distraction. It was one thing to hear rants about lowering the taxes for the rich or about rebuilding roads. But when they butted their noses into her private affairs. It was a little too much. And hit a sore spot…

“And as I’ve stated before, Mr Filly. I have no need of an extra mouth to feed in my household,” She tells him flatly. “I’ve enough feeding you lot as it is,”

Mr Filly, unphased by her answer, continues. “Your highness. There are many in your kingdom who would see a lone queen as fragile…vulnerable even. And more view it as a challenge. The people worry that without an heir, your…ahem, generous rule may be cut short. If that happens we will be left struggling without a guiding hand. I implore you, to reinstate the confidence in your people, find a husband,”

“And I implore you to return to your queen with concerns that actually matter to the fate of the realm. The question of who I have or don’t have under my bed sheets will not dictate Albion’s safety,”

She could see the thinly veiled attempt at control on his part, of him trying to rein her in like a loose pup. He dressed his words up as pragmatism of course, but deep down she knew his blood boiled at the sight of her on the throne. His posture stiffened, and his lips pressed firmly into a thin line.

Years ago the only way she would have ever seen the inside of Castle Fairfax was through an unattended window, or being dragged to the royal dungeons by the guards for stealing bread from a stall. But now the lowest of commoners had committed a noble’s worst nightmare to reality… and ascended to royalty.

She was not Lucien Fairfax. And the nobles of Bowerstone detested it.

She had no status. No regard for the nobility. And no patience. She was an unnatural force of change in the once sturdy and structural hierarchy. And like most, change scared them to death.

Sparrow had no intention of coddling them like Lucien had done. She’d force this change down their throats till they either swallowed or choked. As long as they kept in line, this feigned politeness between them and her would continue.

Mr Filly pulls a face. “The dwellers are a solitary people. They’d rather live in the woods than with the rest of us in civilization. And that is their right. Many wonder though, if the burden of the crown is too heavy for someone used to going at it…alone, in matters,”

“You don’t need to concern yourself with the weight of my crown,”

“We are simply worried that should you perish without a husband or an heir-”

“Your worry is touching,” She snaps. “No, really. I’m moved to tears,” She strikes a finger across her dry cheek.

Once again his face scrunches. Like he had tasted something bitter in the air. “Your highness it is the responsibility of royalty to marry and continue their bloodline. And since you claim to be royalty, I feel it is my duty as a member of your court to remind you of this,”

Before Sparrow can attest to that, the doors to the throne room burst open. A set of guards painfully out of breath rush into the hall which erupts in gossip and outrage.

A strangled cry rises from Cotton Filly as Sparrow stands from the throne. “What is the meaning of this interruption?! How dare-”

“Oh do be quiet!” Sparrow descends the stairs that prop her throne up. Pushing past Filly as she attends to the two guards, who remove their helmets in respect.

Walter appears, taking quickly to her side as he addresses the men. “Figgins, Smithy! What in blazes are you doing here, lads?! You were stationed all the way in Bloodstone!”

Figgins, the much younger of the duo, wipes his face clean of sweat as he gasps. “Sorry, Walter, sir. But we have an urgent distress call from Bloodstone,”

“Distress…hah,” Smithy grunts with a weak, sickly smile. “It’s a bloody massacre is what it is…he even got the chickens, poor things…”

“Chickens? Wha-just tell us what is going on, lad!” Walter shouts.

“It started with the Billberry family, they were butchered in their own home. Shot dead like..like…” Figgins answers, growing nervous as Walter seems to tower over him.

Something lights up in Sparrow’s head then like a march to a wick. A pang of familiarity scratches at her mind over the uttered last name.

“The Billberrys…the Billberrys…” She tastes the name on her tongue.

Walter eyes her. “They’re the ones you sold Bloodstone Manor to, M’lady. Shame, they were a kind bunch of souls,”

Then it hits her. A sick cackle in the back of her mind, a voice rich in tone and smooth like velvet. Yet as sharp as any blade. A man as unpredicatble as a bomb. A walking time capsule that should have been buried and left buried. Rum and smoke and sea salt…

At first, she simply refused to believe the first thing that came to mind. She shook the memories like apples from a tree, daring to stomp on the fruits of her past…but she knew, deep down, she knew what this meant. There was but one man who could be responsible for something like this. Only one sadistic enough.

As ever living up to his name. Reaver had returned…..

#fable #fable 2 #fable 3 #sparrow #reaver #fable reaver #spreaver #fable sparrow #fable 2 sparrow #fable 2 reaver #Reaver x Sparrow

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the-void-writes · 2 years

Note

Hello hello hello 👀

I am interested in Feral Will. 👀

May I request a tiny Sunday scene?? (inspired by the song "you should see me in a crown - Billie Eyelash)??👀

And a lil scene of how he uses his powers without fear. And him seeing Beauty in what he can do. 👀 I love that for him so much omg.

If you'd like some word prompts: Grin, King, Crown. >:]

@bloodlessheirbyjacques 👀✨❤️

@bloodlessheirbyjacques Told you I'd get impatient 🤣 I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but here you go.

Under the cut because it's a long one:

Will stared at his hands, still reeling from what he had done. The guards laid limp in front of him, nowhere near dead, but stunned from their own plasma bullets. Will had pushed them back like he was just waving away bubbles in the park. Isaiah would have killed him if he found out. And yet, that wasn’t what had Will trembling.

Jason was proud of him.

He watched him paralyze a dozen men with the flick of his wrist, and he wasn’t disgusted in the slightest. In his eyes, Will wasn’t a monster… he never was. More guards started gathering in the hallway, and Jason was ready to fight them, but Will held his hand out again. The guards froze in place, floating elegantly towards the ceiling. Then, with the spread of Will’s fingers, they flew into the walls with a collective grunt of pain. One determined soldier steadied his gun, and to his horror, the barrel bent backwards into a curl. He threw it aside just before the bullet’s pressure made the gun burst into bits of hot fire.

Jason couldn’t help but clap. His own godson, a literal superhero. Will moved his hands with the precision of a dancer, deflecting bullets and pushing soldiers as though it was all muscle-memory to him. In truth, Will had no idea what he was doing. His emotions always controlled his powers, and the anger burning in his soul was guiding his actions like a magnet.

He hated this company for taking his family, he hated Vesely for hurting Jason for so long, and most of all, he hated the town for letting Vesely get away with this. The police knew what he was doing, and just sat by while he took people from their homes, because a dead kid was better than a troublesome Freak. Will understood that better than anyone. Preston wanted him dead, no matter what he did for the community, no matter how much he tried to fit in.

And yet, when Jason clapped for him, none of that mattered anymore. There were no cruel townsfolk talking him down in Ves Corp, no birth fathers to appease or beg forgiveness from, just a real father who loved Will with all his heart. And with that support, Will started to move more freely as he fought. The pressure that often twisted around his fingers was long gone as his powers passed through them, like a river free of its dam. Soldiers were powerless against him as he tossed them to-and-fro. In that moment, Will could see what the world had expected of him; an unstoppable force hellbent on destruction. But he saw something else, too, something they never could.

Beauty.

No one else could do what Will did. Every Freak was distinct, varied… unique. Will could never have pretended to be Human. He was different, and that was a fact, a beautiful fact. For the first time since he was a child, he used his powers with the biggest grin on his face. Feeling confident, he held a soldier by his collar and hissed at him.

“Where is your boss?”

The soldier clenched his fist and smirked. “Try me, kid.”

Will closed his eyes and focused. It took a tremendous effort, but he felt himself and the soldier rise off the ground. Jason watched in amazement as his godson flew further into the air. The soldier started to shiver.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Jace,” Will shouted, “how high would you say this chamber is?”

Jason did the math in his head. “About thirty feet, twenty from where you are right now.”

It was Will’s turn to smirk at the soldier. “Your choice, bud. You tell me where your boss is, or we can see how tough that armor is. Trust me, broken bones aren’t pleasant.”

The soldier gritted his teeth. “I won’t tell you shit—”

Will let go, and the soldier screamed, but he only moved down a centimeter before Will stopped him, giggling to himself.

“I can do this all day.”

“He’s in the security room!” The soldier yelled. “Just cut this out!”

Will obliged and lowered the soldier back to the ground. He fell onto his knees and gagged softly, while Will floated gently onto his feet. For a moment, everything came back to him; the fear of his powers and what he could become. That soldier had been scared for his life, all because of him. However, when he looked at Jason, there was nothing but pride in his eyes.

“You’ve really grown up, Will,” he said. “I’m so happy for you.”

Will smiled thankfully. “Where is this security room?”

“I’ll lead you there. I want to see the look on Gabe’s face when you throw him through a wall.”Will chuckled and followed him down the hall. Unbeknownst to them, Vesely had watched the entire fight from the security room. He stared at the lab, torn apart by Will’s powers. Long ago, Vesely’s father had told him that Freaks were gods among men. If they were the gods, then Will was their king. The devastation, the intensity, the fear that he struck into those soldiers. If only he had known the boy’s strength when he ran over him and Jason. He would have brought both of them to Ves Corp. But perhaps this was for the best. Will’s powers were heightened by his newfound confidence, and they would continue to grow with his help. Their king would get his crown soon enough, and if he refused, then Vesely would take that power for himself. Regardless, Will’s strength was the answer to his goal. It was the path to a better world.

#writeblr #writing community #tiny scene sunday

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chad-valorant-enjoyer-and-writer · 2 years

Text

[ Chamber x Viper ]

Read the first parts!! So it makes sense :p

[ Gilded Gold and Harmless Poison ]

Part-4

The older man just started to chuckled, sipping on wine. "That clone of yours– he was an ideal son. Unlike you."

Vincent tolled his eyes. "Perhaps, but I doubt he likes you more than I do."

His father ignored his remark, and Carried on. "He came to me... About 11 months ago, on my birthday. He offered me a choice... To die or to join hands with him."

Cypher continued his recording. Sova had an arrow aimed at the general's head while viper was counting how many hostiles were present. "There are way too many– Cypher can you call for backup?"

"There seems to be a one way net. Vincent's father can talk within it, but we can't talk outside." Cypher replied, still recording.

Viper frowned. They were surrounded by fifty heavily armed soldiers. They were pinned.

"Fabron, Omega-Earths Vincent, managed to capture... Brimstone? Was it? I'm not sure... He baited you out with an offer to retrieve him. Things progressed well and you joined the Valorant Protocol." The man smirked at his storytelling. "See Vincent? I'm being a good father by keeping an eye out for you."

"Fabron tricked you into destroying the Large Radion Colider, practically severing the only chance of connecting both earths!"

Viper, Sova and Cypher immediately halted. That colider was being used to power a portal? It all made sense, with the monstrous power output that machine had given– a portal connecting the dimensions was feasible.

The man laughed loudly. "Fabron convinced you of the adverse effects cause by the portal– causing you to destroy it. Hook line and sinker."

Vincent slumped into the soldiers hold. "Are you finished?" he said.

"What?" Father raised a curious eyebrow.

Chamber breathed in a large breathe of air, almost tasting the irises. He looked up to the sun set illuminating the clouds. It was going to be dark soon.

"I said, Are you done? I've been used as a pawn. I unknowingly betrayed my earth��" His eyes glared. "So what?"

His father frowned. "What are you getting at?"

"Why do I have to regret the past, when I can still alter the future? Mistakes were made." Chamber smirked, faxing his shoulders and arms.

"Ha! Hell, would have to freeze over! Before you could redeem yourself. It's been a great pleasure meeting you son."

The general chambered a bullet in his vandal and pointed it at Vincent's head.

Sova pulled an arrow, aimed at the general. "We must stop him."

Cypher stopped him. "No! If you shoot, our prescence will be revealed! Are you mad!" He hush-yelled.

Viper stopped both men from talking any further, before pointing at Vincent's right hand. In his hand was his signature black card. His radiant ability.

"Oh father, you've gone senile." Vincent grinned.

He dropped the card and the rendezvous prism appeared underneath one of the soldier' feet, throwing him off balance.

Snap!

Vincent teleported for a brief second, now free of their hold.

Bang!

His sherif fired off, killing the general with one bullet to the head. The soldiers was still in a state of shock.

Vincent dashed forward, close to the ground. He kept running after picking up the general's vandal.

Bang! Bang!

He fired of two shots, killing the two soldiers that held onto him. The gunshots knocked the soldiers from their surprise.

Vincent jumped into the forest vegetation, hiding behind the trees. The sun had set, and it started to get dark.

Chamber ducked down from the onslaught of bullets. Luckily he killed the sniper from earlier, so the only things he had to worry about was the seemingly infinite amount of soldiers.

He didn't get to pick up the ammo from the general's body and he already used four shots on his sherif. A total of twenty six.

As bad as the situation was, the environment was in his favor.

Remember, He was French Ace Sniper. Nature and the dark were his best friends. Luckily he was wearing black for the occasion and his radiant abilities shine their brightest in terrain as complex as this.

He threw the second black card to his right, into the forest.

He steadied the vandal in his hands and he dashed right and fired at three incoming, reloading soldiers.

Ba-Ba-Bang!

Three soldiers fell just before Vincent turned into gold mist.

"Where'd he go!?"

Bang!

***

Sova watched as Chamber utilized his environment. He had been running around them, picking off the weakest or the most vulnerable. Not much time had passed since the general died, but the force of fifty-strong were wiped and cut down to thirty.

Chamber was heaving for breath as he threw the vandal into the forest. Twenty five bullets served him well, but a gun without ammunition is a liability.

"I only have one bullet in my sherif..." He sighed... "Should I give up? End it all? Go down fighting..."

He looked at his mother's grave. And he had his answer. "Vivre... Vincent... Vivez pour moi... Et toi... " his mother breathed out, giving her final words before she slipped to the afterlife.

She urged him to live. For both their sakes. "Yes mother." Vincent smiled bitterly at he chastisment.

"Vin...ent... No... Matter what.... I.. Am proud of you... My son.." She said, one last time.

A stray tear fell from his eye, which he promptly wiped away. "Thank you for giving me strength..."

Chamber retrieved his anchor and threw it behind the stone statue. He then made a beeline for the first acnor in the middle of the field.

"Over there! Fir–

Bang!

The was the last bullet. Vicent threw the gun at the soldiers and dived for the anchor.

Just as the bullets were going to hit Vincent fatally, he retrieved the anchor and teleported behind the statue.

"twenty-nine left...." He hummed.

Sova watched as the soldiers pushed his position. "if we don't help him now– he'll die!" he pleaded.

Cypher sighed, switching from safety to full auto. He didn't objevt, but Viper did.

"No. It has been made to light that Chamber has betrayed the Protocol. We will withdraw." She said, coldly.

Sove open his mouth to argue but he shut it close. He had to follow his commanding officer. "Roger that Captain."

Cypher had to qualms with that so he just followed after her. Sova reluctantly looked back to see the remaining soldiers pelting the statue Vincent was hiding behind. "Извините". He apologized.

To be continued.

#valorant #valorant chamber #valorant fanfiction #valorant viper #valorant sova

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bideo-gaming · 3 months

Text

I had a post about how I created my first attack, but for some reason it disappeared. Yippee. Here's my recreation of it

For my game, I needed a russian roulette-type attack. Effectively, two numbers would be generated - one would represent how many bullets were loaded, and one which round was fired.

This was the image that I used as a reference for my chamber, using brass and wood to fit the extravegance of the casino environment. I also took inspiration from the Enter The Gungeon loading screen for the indents of the chamber

This is my finished chamber and round, both of which I'm fairly proud of. I may change the revolver chamber to use more of the colour palette but as it is now, I like it.

This is my code [as it is now]. I didn't use any tutorials because it really wasn't that complicated, but I had a huge problem with the first amount generated being 0. This shouldn't be possible, especially after I had set the variable's lowest possible value as 1. As it turned out, 0 had been set as its default value and the number was generating after the animation had played. I fixed this by switching around the order, which seemed to work.

This is my animation graph for my chamber. I spent a while trying to get the final spin right as I wanted it to slow down, but I decided it would be more trouble than it was worth and that I could just add a fade-out to disguise it.

I added another canvas panel and made all the bullets children of it. The canvas runs the same transform animation as the chamber and is the same size, so it's visually indistinguishable. The bullets were shifted to the left at the start, but once I re-anchored the canvas panel to the centre everything worked

I tried recolouring the chamber to fit more the aesthetic. I'm not completely happy but I like it.

I added more brass/gold, but i want to add some wood back

Holes have been added [which I absolutely adore] and I've done a little recolouring

Detailing has been done to the wood. Now this is something I'm actually happy with

I ended up adding in a bullet for the animation. Initially, Reece made me a particle effect but we couldn't get it to spawn and move how it should, so I resorted to reusing the code from my bullets in Kickstart. A few bugs needed to be solved, such as the sphere dictating where the bullet spawned was always inside the camera [nescessitating changes to the 'actor transform' node which spawns the player in the right place] and then ensuring the timings for the spawning looked alright - nothing particularly challenging.

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ppravitas · 8 months

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TAGGED BY: @tacticalvalor TAGGING: you.

MUSE PLAYLIST

► MAIN: aim for the head / creature feature

↳ can i pose a question? / how do you kill what is dead? / i just shoot from the hip / and i aim for the head / he used to be your friend / that was another life / with a single bullet / we're gonna blow his mind [...] nail up all the windows / they've come to settle the score / make sure no chamber is bare / they're right outside the door / this is a test of your strength / and your will to survive / if you give up now, they're gonna eat you alive

► SILLY: nobody likes me / the northern boys

↳ brother, look / wank myself with a single finger, captain hook / then i go smoke my pipe with a random man in a dark and weary nook / bought a transgender man two pints / can i get lucky and fist him tonight? / constrict my cock with a pink hair tie / not too tight, no, i don't wanna die

► DETERMINATION: back and forth / dr steel

↳ i'd never lie to you / y'know i'd die for you / yeah, i love you too / just do what you do / consume and gobble it up, c'mon show me some love / or i'll be blowing you up / i'm lying through my teeth / to get everything that i need / i'll be what you want me to be / that's why i'm dancing back and forth [...] free me / i'll drag a burning smile across this nation

► BATTLE: a soul can't be cut / kit walters

↳ my ears are ringing with a sound / feel the vibrations, my heart starts to pound / give in to darkness, bodies melt / how do we play the cards we've been dealt? / beauty, it's humanity's greatest sin / beauty hiding the beast that lies within / for all our righteous crimes we compensate / but as for me, it's far too late

► SAD: lullaby bye / dr steel

↳ with no one around this robot fell down / and the crank, it broke off of his head / with the jog to his hard drive, he felt all alive / the old robot he used to be, dead there was rage in his brain, there was pain in his frame / there was love, there was hunger, and strife / he felt lonely, rejected, at times disconnected / no answer to the meaning of life / so he sang

► RELAXED: sickness unto foolish death / akira yamaoka

↳ no lyrics for this one :3 but it's about sin and despair. yay!

► CONTEMPLATIVE: childhood (don't) a go-go / dr steel

↳ and i'm constructing this fantasy / imagination is saving me from the world i despise / and what about loneliness? / what about friends? / what about winning and getting revenge? / and what about all of the things that they've done? / it's time for some payback / it's time for some fun

► HAPPY: homewrecker / marina

↳ i'm only happy when i'm on the run / i break a million hearts just for fun / i don't belong to anyone / i guess you could say that my life's a mess / but i'm still looking pretty in this dress / i'm the image of deception

► HARD WORK MONTAGE: kill everyone / hollywood undead

↳ oh no, here comes the riot / does everything have to resort to violence? / if you think you can hide, go and try it / now let's let the fucking gun break the silence / close your eyelids / another shot and then here come the sirens / i thought i told you to keep fucking quiet / somebody's dying, so come say goodbye kids

► LOVE THEME: e.v.o.l / marina

↳ candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker / every kiss you give me makes me sicker / a day in the dark, a day in a cloud of gloom / i look at you, you look at me / milk and roses, squeaky clean / well you're the best i've ever seen / and i'm your dying beauty queen / it only takes two lonely people / to fuck love up and make it evil / it only takes a drop of evil / to fuck up two beautiful people

► BREAKUP / HEARTBREAK: power & control / marina

↳ but love will always be a game / we give and take a little more / eternal game of tug and war / power and control / i'm gonna make you fall / i'm gonna make you fall / we give and take a little more / 'cause all my life i've been controlled / you can't have peace without a war / without a war, without a war

► FAILURE / DEFEAT: cirice / ghost

↳ a candle casting a faint glow / you and i see eye to eye / can you hear the thunder? / how can you hear the thunder that's breaking? / now there is nothing between us / from now our merge is eternal / can't you see that you're lost? / can't you see that you're lost without me?

► FINAL BATTLE: world burn / taylor louderman

↳ i wanna watch the world burn / i got the gasoline / i wanna watch the world burn / and everyone get mean / cady, time to watch your back / cady, time to turn and cough / because you took me down / but you didn't finish me off

#had to bully my beloved partner to help me with some of these choices because oh my god...#leo is not good at happy.....#also northern boys w #IGNORE repeated artists some of us have autasm.#aim for the head is so SCARILY accurate to leo and the plot of manhunt 2 it makes me tremble #( gen : ooc . )

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