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sunlightmurdock · 3 months

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okay apocalypse dbf!jake will not let me go again so- I need the confession 🙏 I need the tear-stained first kiss after an attack, with too much adrenaline and too little care for the inappropriate age gap

EEK me either me either me either ! I’m so insane about him rn

And I feel like this particular attack would be a big one. Resources are running low and Jake won’t leave you up on that mountain by yourself, so he has no choice but to bring you with him. He has done what he can, preparing you for this.

It scares you, even when it’s just all pretend with him. He’s not as kind when he’s training you. Even as you’re crying and telling him to stop it, that you don’t want to, he’s yelling and insisting that you aim straight and breathe — that these things won’t stop no matter how much you cry, or scream, or beg.

He doesn’t mean to be cruel. It would be far more cruel to leave you unprepared, to let something happen to you.

This is a low stakes run, but you can feel that he’s unhappy having you here. It’s itching at you that maybe it’s because you couldn’t hit that target last time. He had tied a thick tree branch to a length of rope, pushed hard, and let it swing. Your first moving target. Not so much as a chip in the wood. You’ve got a pretty big knife, one that could tear muscle from bone— he won’t give you a gun.

You know he’s focused on protecting you, it’s an awful feeling to think that you may not be able to do the same for him, especially after all he has done for you so far.

It’s a gas station, back off of the road, early enough on that it hasn’t yet been completely raided. Heavy metal shutters cover the windows, but Jake makes quick work of the padlocks on the back door. The power has all gone out by now, it’s just the light from your flashlights to guide the way. Jake is two paces ahead, close enough to jump back and pull you behind him if he needs.

It’s eerily quiet. You’re stuck to him like a shadow as he surveys for danger, and ultimately decides that it’s okay.

Keep away from the doors and windows, stay where I can see you. Dejected and feeling more uselessly childish than you have in a long time, you sweep the shelves and take what you can while Jake does the same. Continually, he checks over top of the shelves to see if he can see the top of your head.

It’s going too well, it tricks you both into thinking that this is going to be easy. You’re focused, on your knees and rummaging through the medicines to take everything you could need. You don’t even notice the noise that you’re making. Jake doesn’t mind the rummaging sounds, it means he can hear where you are without needing to watch.

But then, so can the employee who took such care to fortify this place before he took swallowed back a cocktail and pills the second that he saw his home in flames and his undead mother staggering around on the news footage. He made himself comfortable before he passed. His shoes and his jacket are in the back room. His socks are almost silent against the linoleum as he staggers around the corner.

He’s tall, and skinny, and hadn’t hurt anyone in his entire life. But he’s close enough by the time you spot him that his height gives you no room to stand up. His eyes are wide and gorging, the sockets sullen and lifeless. You haven’t seen one of them so clean before, part of him still looks human. His lips are pulled back, animal, growling weakly as he reaches for you and tumbles forwards.

Jake hears the scream and he swears that he’s going to be too late. Even just across the floor of the gas station — it takes seconds for one of those things to get their jaws around you. He’s sick to his stomach, his gun pulled and the safety off, uncaring about if the sound draws attention for miles around.

He rounds the corner and spots the puddle of dark, thick blood first. His heart sinks to his stomach, until he realises that it isn’t yours. You push the corpse back, off of you. Your knife is plunged through the socket of its eye, it’s dead. You take one look at Jake, and crumble, tears pouring from your eyes as you stare at your blood soaked hands.

“Shh, I’m here. Shh, shh, shh. You’re okay,” Jake whispers, sinking to his knees and pulling you off of the floor, cradling you in his arms as he kisses the top of your head. “It’s alright, I’m right here. You’re safe, you’re okay.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t see it— it was —“

“I know, sweet girl,” Jake whispers, rubbing soothingly at your back. He presses his lips together and kisses softly at your temple. “You did so good. You did it. You’re alright now.”

Again, Jake kisses your temple softly, hugging you closer. His weight and his smell, his strong arms wrapped around you. All of it almost makes you forget where you are. Blinking back any more tears, you turn your head as he kisses at your temple again. This time, you’re looking at him as he pulls back.

Tears soaking your lashes and your cheeks, staring up at him. Jake’s throat feels thick, his mouth suddenly dry as your fingers press into his arms. You are okay, you did it. He’s here. You sit forwards first, and Jake’s met with the exact thing that he has been trying to stop himself from thinking about for these past few weeks. Your lips are just as soft as they look, and your hands pawing at his arms make him melt into you.

Before all of this, Jake tried so hard to fight it. You’re so much younger. Your father would have never approved. Now, he supposes — it doesn’t matter. What matters, is keeping you safe, and he’s so glad that you’re safe.

His hand grabs firmly at the nape of your neck as he presses closer, deepening his hold on you, kissing you firmly.

#dbf!jake #apocalypse dilf jake #dads best friend Jake #jake Seresin #jake hangman Seresin #jake Seresin x reader

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mingtinys · 11 months

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[1:09 a.m.]

pairing : choi jongho x gn!reader

angst , fluff , hurt / comfort , lore based , outlaw!jongho , strictland!au

warnings : mentions of searches/raids , general ateez lore

word count : 1.0 k

requested? no

a/n : this fic is literally just the physical manifestation of how insane i feel about the trailers

You can't sleep. You're not sure how anyone can. Though it seems Yunho and Jongho have found a way, if their soft snores and still bodies are anything to go by. You can just barely make out the shape of their cots across the poorly lit room.

It's pitch back where the three of you sleep. Shut away in the musty confines that reside in the back of the mechanic shop the three of you use for cover. The door to which is concealed behind a false tool shelf. And though you know it's all in favor of staying hidden, you're not sure how much more of the space you can take tonight.

The walls echo far too much. Every noise from the outside seeps in and gets replayed on a haunting loop. Screams of rebels who couldn't escape in time. Boots stomping down the alleyway as Android Guardians begin their nightly watch. Homes being ripped apart by mandatory raids. Each sound sends your anxiety spiking through the roof.

Yunho stirs, and his cot makes a horrible creaking sound that startles you. You're surprised it doesn't wake Jongho, who recently developed the unfortunate habit of being a light sleeper. Your own cot whines under your shifting weight. The rock-solid mattress does nothing to help you relax. And the thin quilt over your legs starts to feel suffocating more than anything.

There's a shout in the distance, sirens, your body tenses. Your breathing becomes jagged and your gut screams at you to seek a way to ground yourself. You want– no, need comfort.

Your mind wanders to the two boys with you, gaze landing on Jeong Yunho first. He feels like the obvious answer. Gentle. Kind. A soft yet strong presence in a world you believed, prior to meeting him and his friends, had wiped away all that was good indefinitely. He'd probably stay up with you if asked, indulge your thoughts, and listen to your fears. Understanding and without judgment. But there's a pull at your heart and this little voice in the back of your head that pleads with you to seek out Choi Jongho instead.

A boy who, until a few months ago, you knew little about. He was the last to fully embrace you among the group of outlaws you'd stumbled upon some time ago. You never really knew what to make of him. At times, his hardened gaze and dauntless aura seemed cold. Intimidating. Unmoveable. Though it didn't seem to be out of disdain or indifference, but instead, an instinctual hesitance and innate urge to protect the only family he had left.

It wasn't until you were assigned to go undercover with him and Yunho that you finally began to understand one another on a deeper level. You told him of your past, your cause, and why you wanted to fight against the tyranny of your unjust world. And, eventually, he told you of his.

Yunho brought out a more playful side to him. And though they were rare, you had been privileged with occasional moments of carefree bliss with the two of them. You'd like to think you caught glimpses of who he might have been before all of this. When the world was okay. When he was allowed to show his emotions unfiltered.

You've grown to enjoy his peaceful and quiet nature. Seen moments of empathy and the concern that clouds his shiny eyes when Yunho cries about the unfairness of it all. Your feet carry you from your bed to Jongho's without much thought behind the action. Propelled by your growing nerves and heart slamming violently into your ribcage.

Reaching out, you gently shake his shoulder. He grumbles and turns to his side. Eyes still closed, he hums. "Mmm, what is it?" There's grogginess laced into his words, but he doesn't seem annoyed, which is good.

Still, you feel silly. Waking him up just because you're a little jumpy? Now that you're here, it even seems as though the outside noises have ceased. This is pointless, you think. But then that tiny voice in your brain pipes up once more and forces the request to form on your tongue.

"Can I stay with you for a little bit? Please." Though you whisper, your voice seems loud between the four walls and you cringe at how it echos.

Jongho peeks one eye open and you can see the gears cranking to life in his brain. He blinks a few times, looks to Yunho who's sleeping soundly, then back to you. His soft pout and half-lidded eyes don't give you much hope. For a moment, you consider rushing out an apology and returning to your own bed. But then, wordlessly, Jongho feels around for the edge of his blanket and lifts it. The metal frame of his cot squeaks as he shuffles and readjusts to create space for you to crawl in. You do. And that voice in your head finally quiets, as does the longing in your heart.

An impossibly strong arm encircles your waist and pulls you into Jongho's warmth. He cradles your head, face buried in his chest as his chin rests atop. "You're scared." He states, though you think he meant it as a question.

You wonder what gave it away first. The subtle shaking in your limbs, waver in your voice, the fact you sucked up every ounce of pride you had left just to approach him in the first place. But yeah, you are.

"Yeah."

Something metal clatters just outside and you flinch, fingers hurriedly fisting the back of Jonho's cotton shirt. He only holds you tighter.

"Me too," is all he says before letting out a long breath and allowing sleep to overtake him again. His movements still and his breathing evens out to a steady pace. You match it, letting the safety he provides guide you to your first peaceful night in a long time.

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thevikingwoman · 2 months

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tag people you'd like to get to know better!

thank you for the tag @hylfystt!!

tags for @galadae @lilas @janzoo @gefiltefished @fantasmagoriam @consulaaris @impossible-rat-babies

LAST SONG: so a thing about me is that eventhough I love music, I do have a hard time with noise, it gets too much for me easily, so I don't tend to just have music on. Sometimes when I drive. If my husband puts it on. When the kids play something. Or when I go to the opera. I don't really recall my last song - unless CT raid music counts. It counts right? The music is great tbh.

CURRENTLY WATCHING: I am watching a bit of the Star Wars Clone Wars animated series while on my exercise bike. It's fun and lowkey!

THREE SHIPS: Meryta/Tansui (ffxiv), they make me insane. I've lost it over these guys, I have so many thoughts, so many things that compel me, so many ideas about their dynamic and the implications. I'm in a one-man rowboat for this ship and I appreciate everyone who is taking interest and cheering me on. Solas/Iwyn (Dragon Age), they just always and forever live rentfree in my brain. Sarkan/Agnieszka (Uprooted), they're delightful and their dynamic is so fun. I was waffling here, and ended up picking a ship I've written for and not just one that compels me or some of my fave friend's OC ships because there is a few. Also *this* close to picking Magnai/Hien, it's not a ship tho. It's not that would be madness, right?

FAVORITE COLOR: Green and purple

CURRENTLY CONSUMING: Cold tea. I made tea this morning, went back to bed with a cold, didn't let it stop me from consuming my tea now I'm up again

FIRST SHIP: Spike/Buffy (btvs) - the first ship where shipping was an active sort of thing I was aware of.

PLACE OF BIRTH: Denmark

CURRENT LOCATION: Washington, USA

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married! 25 years this summer, where did the time go

LAST MOVIE: We used to watch so many movies, but we don't so often anymore. I miss it, but I'm also often just - nah, meh about it. Anyway I think the last movie I watched was the last time I was sick and I watched Marvel's Eternals. It was - a Marvel movie. The costumes were nice? Some of characters were nice too , but the plot man, just a bit mediocre. I feel like I've seen another movie since but I'm not sure what it is.

CURRENTLY WORKING ON: A piece of Tansui and Rasho with Tansui being drunk and missing Meryta thought he's not really happy to put words on it. I love writing friendships and I have a lot of ideas about their dynamic and no one can stop me :D

#tag game #about me #pls lmk if you dont want to be tagged

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the-consortium · 1 year

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My teacher,

I’m not sure if this letter will even reach you. Trazyn doesn’t know I’m sending it. But I must at least write this out.

I asked, when you sold me (sold me! Like an object!) what I had done wrong. You didn’t answer. Despite how I’ve adjusted to my new life, I still find myself wondering this sometimes. I don’t wish to lead the III anymore, I believe the only reason I ever did was because I thought it was what you wanted, what would make you happy. All I ever did was in pursuit of your approval. So I ask again; teacher, have I done something wrong?

This is disjointed. I apologize for that. I’m writing this as it occurs to me, and mostly to simply get it out. As I said, I’m not sure this letter will even reach you.

If it does, though… You know who has written it.

( @solemnace-dollhouse )

The air at this height is no longer so stuffy and no longer carries the smell of millennia-old death. The crumbling, far too slender towers of the old city rise up around him, seeming to sway in the wind like blades of grass. Which is impossible. Dull light drips like viscous honey through the Eldar ruins and seems to take too long to reach the ground a thousand metres below. Narvo sets hand over hand, his bare feet finding tiny protrusions in the non-stone of the huge central tower. He pauses for a moment. Looks up at the ugly, functional metal structure that serves the Consortium as a landing platform for gunships and shuttles. Light refracts off the transparisteel panels of the entrance as someone steps through. Presumably Savona, who has not been willing to join her two sergeants in this completely unnecessary but entertaining sport. Climbing a few metres beside and slightly below him is Bellephus. The mutation that has given the Gutterpoet demonic mouths on his neck and cheeks apparently does not provide oxygen transport advantages, as the Marine has not yet climbed faster or more effectively. He glances briefly at Narvo as he stops, furrows his brows questioningly. Narvo shakes his head, continues climbing. Both Emperor's Children pull themselves over the edge of the platform almost simultaneously. Narvo reaches out to Bellephus, grasps his forearm and pulls him to his feet. His superhuman reaction lets him catch the Dataslate, which is thrown to him. Not by Savona. The Chief Apothecary himself stands at the entrance to the tower with a murderous expression on his face. He makes an imperious motion. "Read!" Narvo has long since become accustomed to Fabius's suggestions having a distinctly commanding character. So he reads. Bellephus does not even try to hide his curiosity, but simply looks over the smaller marine's shoulder. The Gutterpoet whistles through his teeth and his demonic mouth snaps shut. "He's awake!" Narvo shakes his head. Unlike Bellephus, he wasn't there for this raid, only joined the Consortium later. But of course he knows the story. He looks to Fabius. "He's right in principle, isn't he? You sold him out." Fabius makes an annoyed noise somewhere between a snort and a growl. "Details! You know yourself that we can't afford a primarch any more. And certainly not two of them! Abaddon has the right idea in that sense, and in a way I envy Curze's sons the freedom his death has given them." Narvo laughs. "And this from the man who re-crafted each of them as if they were decorative items!" - "We all get older and wiser." The hunter nods, still laughing softly. "And what do you want from me now, Lieutenant Commander? Do you fear for your independence when a not-so-insane father is awake? And apparently not happy with you just dropping him." Fabius paces back and forth on the platform. The Chirurgeon moves its many arms with a clatter, showing his agitation and anger. "I want … Your advice. You have spent longer with hunting him and trying to get his mindset than any of us. I may have fabricated his body often and perfectly, but you are probably the one who understands him best. What do I do with this?" He gestures to the dataslate in Narvo's hand. Narvo scratches his chin. "Are you serious? Answer him. And honestly. In purely military terms, he may only be a threat to the Legion's current situation with just Alkenex and his guys at his side, if the Necron supports him. And as I've seen the original Primarch in his current volatile state, that would plunge us into a civil war against which the Legion Wars are sandbox games. But morally … Well, that's another matter and entirely your own to bear, Spider!" Fabius hisses like an angry cat. "Don't you talk to me about morality! It already flew out the window over Isstvan!" He stomps back to Narvo, snatches the dataslate from his hand and disappears into the tower's lift.

An hour later, the Chief Apothecary is sitting in his study. Looks out over his kingdom of decay from his desk with its stacks of books and drifts of papers and datapads, not really noticing anything. His slender fingers drum an absent rhythm on the tabletop. Finally he sighs and begins to write. Erases the address several times. Stares ahead again. Writes again.

Father! No, you have done nothing wrong. Nothing but being what the Emperor created you to be. And as what you have a profound effect on me and all your sons. For we too are no further along in this regard than we were all that time ago. But this is no longer the time of the dawn of the golden road to the stars we began to pave in the Grand Crusade. Humanity has shown that in its present state it is not capable of dealing with the possibilities that the Emperor's plan wanted to give it. And we are nothing but relics of that failed plan. We are the splintered remnants of his hubris, you just like us. And only if we manage to escape this programming and be free is it possible to take the next step. And by that I don't mean falling prey to the monsters who call themselves gods. I saw in you the repetition of what began on Laer. I saw you choosing the same path again and I couldn't bear it. No, you have done nothing wrong. The question is - can you do it right?

@solemnace-dollhouse

#Warhammer #Fabius Bile #Fulgrim #Roleply #Clone Fulgrim

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frostedlemonwriter · 2 months

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Find The Word

Thanks @kaylinalexanderbooks for tagging me! Sorry it is a day late, but I am lazy af sometimes. Plus, health issues been kicking my ass.

My Words: future, slice, deserve, access

Your Words: rash, extra, insanity, fake + for extra points, subjugate

Tagging: @blind-the-winds @veradragonjedi @winterandwords @that-chibi-writer and an open tag for whomever!

Future:

After a brief nod, Teagen moved the black hair that covered her deep-green eyes. Shaved on one side by Astrid, long on the other, and on the bare skin tattooed the compass design Aesgir created. The tattoo was still fresh from the week before when the old seer blessed it, just after Aesgir inked it and it still bled. Now, it sat a beautiful, complex design against her pale complexion. “I worry about the coming raid on those evil Finns. Their magics and rituals deep in those woods may leave me separate from the valkyrie if I am to fall. Body used for their horrific rites.” “Oh, young warrior,” Åse said, leaned in to place a kiss on her pale cheek. “Worry not.” Something about the seer’s painted lips left a numbness on Teagen’s face, perhaps something in the dye. “Have you seen the future? Or has…?” She glanced over at the older seer, still trapped in the trance as her words almost formed together in one long utterance.

Slice:

As the warm breeze transformed into a cool gust, a shiver ran down Kyu’s spine, caused tiny goosebumps to form on her skin like pinpricks. Suddenly, a loud snap echoed through the air, made her react with honed instincts. Drawing her short, thin tanto from its hide-bound scabbard, and turned towards the source of the sound in one smooth motion. Yet, to her surprise, there came no evidence of any disturbance among the trees. Every leaf remained undisturbed, every branch intact. Despite this, Kyu scanned the tree line, searched for any sign of movement. Then came a blinding glint of steel in the sun, caught Kyu’s attention, putting her on the defensive. With lightning speed, a figure emerged before her—a petite woman adorned in a fur-lined padded leather kosode. Covered her face with a wooden mask, fashioned into the fearsome face of a tengu. Except for the mask’s long, beak-like nose appeared more comical than menacing. Despite this, Kyu deflected a strike from the attacker’s own tanto, the clash of metal rung in her ears. She evaded a kick, felt the rush of air just inches away from her face by a straw sandal with soles made of woven grass. Followed by a razor-sharp blade that sliced through the air right after.

Deserve:

During the lively celebrations, Åse emerged with as much grace as a cat stalking its prey. Her presence felt as she paid her respects and honored Teagen and the twins. They deserved the praise and glory, having been close companions to the young, rising drengr. Guided by the seer—Åse and Tegan slipped away after they exchanged a few words with her best friends. As she moved away from the bustling longhouse; the cacophonous music and noise faded, left them in a serene silence. Jarl Viggo would understand her absence, as seeking counsel on nights like this was typical. In this moment, Teagen’s focus was on matters of destiny, and no Norse would question or pursue anything else if given the opportunity.

Access:

I couldn't find this one! Dun dun dun!

#tag games

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oliversrarebooks · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 Day Two: Delirium

Masterlist

TW: hallucinations, captivity

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Monoma/Iida

"What, are you worried about me?" Neito said with that cocky grin.

"Of course I am," Tenya pleaded, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would dissuade him. They'd had this same song and dance so many times before, and honestly, Neito's willingness to throw himself into danger for the sake of hero work was one of the things he admired about him. One of the things they had in common. "I know you're more than capable -- I just want you to be careful. If it's true that the entire facility is staffed with villains with psychological quirks --"

"Those are some of the most fun to copy!" he cackled. "They never expect it to be used against them. And I've had plenty of practice with psychological quirks training with Hitoshi. Just you watch. I'll be in and out so fast that they're going to have to give me a speedrun medal on top of the awards and praise I'll get for saving so many people."

Tenya brushed his fingers through his soft hair. After all these years, he could tell when Neito was nervous under all the bluster. It was in the way his laugh died out a little too fast, stormy eyes too occupied with calculating every possible angle to hold mirth for long. He had every reason to be nervous, given what they knew about the facility and its secretive nature. They didn't even know where it was located, hoping that an undercover Neito wouldn't get his tracking device discovered. If the mission went south, it could be days time before he was rescued, if at all.

Tenya couldn't find the words to express all of his fears without eroding his partner's makeshift confidence, and so he pulled him in for a kiss instead.

"I'm really going to be fine," Neito said as they pulled away after a long minute. "You know how much I've been training for this."

Tenya knew he must be showing his nerves as well, for Neito to comfort him in all seriousness. "I know you have been. And I believe you will come back safe."

He had to believe that. It was the only way two pro heroes could survive a romantic relationship without going utterly insane.

---

It had been three days since they'd had the last transmission from Neito's tracking device. Sixty hours since Tenya and his friends had convinced the HPSC to change the mission from information gathering to search and rescue. Thirty hours since they'd raided the first lair and found it empty. Four hours since they'd located what they believed to be the actual facility. Ninety minutes since they'd finalized the raid and extraction team and plan. Eight minutes since Tenya had kicked a villain hard enough to shatter ribs, leaving him a broken, sobbing mess on the floor.

He'd take full responsibility for his actions later, once his partner was safely back home.

Midoriya was clearing the path ahead, and Tenya could hear the sounds of the fight echoing down the hallway. He ran, using his engines in quick bursts for precision in the tight hallways, looking for the prisoners.

He kept telling himself it would be fine. It wasn't as though it hadn't happened before -- Tenya worried sick and arriving to find Neito with a smug smile on his face despite cuts and bruises. "What took you so long?" he would say, his hands cuffed behind his back and chained to the wall. "I could've gotten out of this any time, obviously. I just thought you needed some help keeping your spot in the top ten. Rescuing a fellow hero, especially one as universally beloved as me, will really help your reputation."

Tenya rounded the corner into a hallway lined with iron-barred cells. Please be here, please don't be too hurt, please be well enough to make fun of me for my concern while I'm carrying you off to the ambulance. "Neito?"

He heard a skittering and a strangled yelp. His heart clenching, he dashed to the source of the noise.

If Tenya weren't able to immediately recognize that disheveled blonde hair, he might not have realized it was Neito. There was no proud grin and no mockery. The man in the cell was pale as a ghost and shaking uncontrollably, curled up into a tight ball as though his knees would protect him. There was a nasty looking cut on his forehead and bruises poking out from under the pajama-like white uniform.

"Not again," he said, his voice sounding raw. "Not again! You're not real. Leave me alone!"

He'd never seen his partner like this. Even suffering from broken limbs and blood loss he'd be trying to laugh it off in between demanding pain meds. As long as he was loudly complaining about how he was clearly dying, there was no chance he actually was.

Whatever quirks and experiments the villains had inflicted on him, they'd been enough to break him down to this in less than three days.

"Neito, it's me," said Tenya in his most reassuring voice, as he swiped the keycard he'd taken off the villain.

Neito only shrank back further into the cell, as though the cinder blocks could swallow him whole. "Stay back!"

"I'm real. I don't know what they did to you, but it really is me, and I'm here to rescue you."

"Not again." He shook his head rapidly. "Not this time. Not again."

"Listen, you're safe now. Whatever it is they did to --"

Tenya liked to think he was a well-prepared hero, but he wasn't at all prepared for Neito to suddenly unfurl himself from the tiny ball, kick him square in the stomach with enough force to send him off balance, and then go booking out the cell as fast as he could run, not even copying Tenya's quirk.

Perhaps he should have. As Tenya doubled over for a moment, getting his air back so he could chase after Neito, he felt slightly better that Neito wasn't as broken as he'd initially assumed. Sure, he seemed to think that Tenya was some kind of malevolent hallucination, but...

"Unhand me!" came the shout from down the hall. "I always knew you'd turn out to be evil somehow!"

Ah, so Midoriya had caught him. That was probably for the best.

---

I can't resist using the Whumptober prompts to push my favorite rarepair. Thanks for reading!

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #delirium #whumptober2023 #no.2 #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #monoma neito #iida tenya #monoiida

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jgmartin · 10 months

Text

THE DEAD WORLD

It happened late. I suppose these things always do. The end of the world isn’t exactly a rise and shine affair, you know?

It’s a big decision, nuclear war. You think you’re ready to drop the bombs, but then you figure it’s probably best to sleep on it. Then you wake up and think maybe, just maybe, we’ll first see how the day plays out. Maybe somebody convinces you not to press the button. Maybe the world gives you a reason it shouldn’t go up in smoke like the stock market, like the riots in the streets, like the futures of an entire generation.

Or maybe there are no reasons. Maybe starting fresh is all that’s left, and cleaning humanity off of this rock is the only truly moral choice left to make.

I don’t know.

All I know is it’s been a week since the blast. A week since I ran to the bunker, alone, forced to leave my family behind. If that sounds callous, then just know it wasn’t me who abandoned them. They abandoned me.

They were disbelievers. All of them.

They called me crazy for building the bunker. Called me insane for stockpiling canned rations ten feet under the dirt. I tried to explain to them that we were running out of time, that if they cared enough to open their eyes, there were signs that the end was coming. But to them, that was just noise. More chatter from a lunatic.

They stuck their noses up at me all the way to the end. When the air-raid sirens sounded, my wife grabbed my son and daughter and screamed at me to leave the house. To never come back.

So I did.

I left them there. There simply wasn’t any time to fight her for the kids, to fight the kids who were wholesale convinced I was a fraud. A liar. The bombs were coming and the bunker was a hundred feet away, buried beneath the forest behind our farm.

I didn’t have a choice, you understand? No choice but to run, so that’s just what I did. I ran and ran, with tears in my eyes for my family, and just as I closed the heavy steel door of the bunker I felt the low rumble of the first explosion. Then the next.

Like I said, it’s been a week. I figure the worst of the fallout has dissipated by now. It’ll be just the fires that are left, the fires that there’s nobody left to put out. Soon though, once the flames have exhausted their supply of wooden homes and fuel-laden vehicles, they’ll die too, and then the new world will emerge.

The Dead World.

The dark truth is that the nightmare of nuclear armageddon takes place in three stages. The first is what people often assume to be the worst. The bombs. The explosions. The mushroom clouds and the screaming and the running and the sirens. Truthfully though, that’s the easy part. At that stage you’re just afraid or dead. That’s all.

After that comes the flames and radiation. They do some damage, maybe more than the bombs when you consider the pain inflicted, but even they pale in comparison to the third stage. The Dead World.

In the Dead World, the strings that tie us together are burned away. There are no rules. There are no customs. There is no humanity. It’s chaos, unbridled and hopeless. Raiders roam smouldering city streets, pillaging and raping and torturing for scraps of food. People are rounded up like cattle, butchered and eaten.

That, I think, is the stage we’re beginning to enter. The stage of desperation. Even now, I hear a band of raiders above me. I’ve made certain my bunker is well-hidden, but it’s possible that the blasts have swept away the dirt camouflaging my hatch. It’s possible I could be found.

In moments like these, I’m almost glad my family perished in the blast. I shudder to think what the monsters above would do to them, to my wife and my daughter. Still, I’ve covered my bases. The raiders likely arrived to see if there were any animals left alive on the farm, or crops left to reap. They wouldn’t be here looking for underground bunkers.

BANG BANG BANG

The sound echoes around my bunker like a heart attack. I freeze. Through inches of steel I hear the muffled chorus of human’s shouting. Moving.

BANG BANG BANG

There’s more shouting. I slink to the wall of my bunker, pick up my rifle and load a round into the chamber. I’m panicking for no reason, I tell myself. I’m making much ado about nothing. Even with a band of raiders there’s simply no way they could break the reinforced steel hatch. Not with a pair of bolt cutters. Not even with a welding torch.

KERCHUNK

There’s the sound of something clanking on metal. Like a carabiner. A hook. Did they attach something to the handle? Above me an engine roars to life, something powerful. A truck, maybe. It screams as its wheels tear into the dirt and my pulse races. I grip my rifle, raising it toward the hatch. Toward the intruders.

The hatch shudders. It shudders like it’s going to bend, warp, but instead it snaps clean off. I’m blinded by the afternoon sun. I shield my eyes as best I can, but there’s no shielding my lungs from the fallout in the air. “I’m armed!” I scream, hacking a cough. “I’ll blow the heads off of any of you fucks that wants to try me!”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Mr. Falton,” a voice blares over a megaphone. “You’re under arrest. Come out with your hands up.”

“You think you’re going to fool me with that spew?” I snarl. I cock the rifle and let off a warning shot through the open hatch. Birds scatter from the trees above. “Come any closer and the next bullet’s going straight through your heads!”

Something drops from the hatch. It’s small, oval-shaped, and it bounces on the steel floor once, twice, before rolling to a stop. It’s a metal canister.

Smoke hisses out of it.

_____________________________________________________________________

I open my eyes and realize I’ve been abducted. Stolen away. The familiar steel walls of my bunker are gone, replaced with cream wallpaper and drab lighting. It’s an office building– or at least it was one before the world went tits up.

“Where am I?” I ask, groggily. My head is throbbing, vision still blurry from the gas.

“You’re at the precinct. I’m Detective Vaneer and I’ll be conducting your interview.”

“Interview?” The room around me is sparsely furnished. There’s nothing between me and the liar but a wooden table, a cup of coffee and some empty creamer. It’s a nice set, but it isn’t fooling me. ��I don’t have anything more than what was in that bunker, you hear? So you can call your raiding party back and let me go.”

“Why did you do it?”

I don’t reply. He’s fishing for answers, fishing for details he can use to find my backup rations buried out back behind the barn. I won’t say a word, though. No matter how much I’m gaslit.

“What’s the matter?” the liar says, standing up and adjusting his tie. “Was a week not enough time to dream up an alibi?” It occurs to me that he’s gone through a lot of effort to put up this ruse. To pretend society isn’t a fractured, crumbling memory. He’s even dressed the part.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

“The bombs,” he snaps. “You don’t know about the bombs?”

My mouth twitches. What the hell was his angle? To throw so many competing stories at me that I started questioning my own reality? “Of course I know about the bombs,” I spit. “I’ve known about the bombs for a long time, anybody could have seen this coming.”

His fist hits the table. There’s anger in his eyes, rage like I’ve never seen before. His facade is slipping. “How long?”

“Long enough to build a bunker and survive the blast.”

“And your family?”

My voice dies in my throat. “How…” I say, hoarsely. “What the hell gives you the right to talk about my family?”

“Where are they?”

He’s looking for a reaction. He’s trying his best to get me emotional, to get me to let down my guard long enough to spill my secrets and tell him about the cache behind the barn. “They’re dead,” I tell him. “They died in the blast.”

The liar masquerading as a detective leans over the prop table. He taps his finger on the surface. “What blast?” he says.

My jaw clenches. My hands ball into fists. I want to leap across the table and slug the motherfucker for invoking my loved ones, for cursing me with the pain of their memory. But then he wins. Then he knows he can get me talking with the proper stimulation. “I’m not talking,” I tell him.

“No,” he says. “What blast?”

“I don’t know!” I snap. “I wasn’t standing around to count how many bombs fell– to point out which one killed my family.”

“But you were standing around when we opened your bunker, weren’t you? You saw the trees. The birds. How many nukes hit your farm, do you think? Must be pretty sturdy bird nests.”

I open my mouth to speak, but the words aren’t there. The liar doesn’t seem to mind– in fact, it seems he realizes he’s found my weak point. He knows I’m breakable now. Fuck. He walks around the table, sizes me up, then stalks over to the blinds covering the windows. He gives them a tug.

More sunlight. It’s blinding, again. I hear the sound of a window sliding open, and suddenly my ears are assaulted with lies. A symphony of deception. Cars honking. People yelling in the street. Music. Then the world comes into focus, and I see just how deep this act goes. They’ve set up a projector on the wall. It’s a film reel from the old world, with its tall buildings, its people walking to and from work, and its cars spitting methane into the air.

“It took me a week to find your bunker,” the liar says, coming back around to his chair. He slips a laptop from a bag beneath the table. “I had to comb through your online activity. Match up receipts. Call the company that installed your tin can. It took some work, but we figured out where you were hiding eventually.”

I don’t speak. Their operation is more sophisticated than I expected, much more and I can't risk making a misstep.

“Let me tell you what happened, Mr. Falton. You fell down a rabbit hole, a deep one of online conspiracy. You convinced yourself the world was ending, that there were psychic vampires living among us, infecting our every level of society. You convinced yourself that the only way to stop them was to start from scratch, and that our world leaders knew this and planned a global nuclear strike for New Year's Day, 2022.”

My body is shaking. As much as I try to pretend his lies aren’t affecting me, they are. It’s poison to my ears. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? A psychic vampire. Bitter too, I bet since there won’t be enough food for you to sustain yourselves on– not now that humanity is halfway to extinction.”

The liar gives me a hard look, then opens his laptop. He clicks around some, types a bit on the keyboard, then turns the screen around to face me. It’s a picture of my house. It’s blown to pieces. There’s barely anything left but wooden splinters and smouldering ashes from the blast.

“See this?” He taps something in the bottom corner of the image. It’s a mess of colours. Of pixels. It’s red, pinkish and scattered in several pieces. “That’s your daughter,” he says.

My jaw drops. A sinking feeling grows in the pit of my stomach, unshakeable and awful. Still, I knew there would be horror in the aftermath of nuclear war. I knew. I also knew it would be a necessary price to pay.

He taps another section of the screen. The picture zooms in. “Over here, we think this might be a piece of your wife’s skull, though it could also be your son’s. Their corpses are in so many pieces it’s hard to say which hock of flesh belongs to who.”

“I don’t want to look at this. Put it away.”

“Wait,” he tells me. “You haven’t seen the best part.” More tapping. More zooming in. This time the pixels are dark. They’re something thirty feet away from the rubble of the house, something grey and familiar.

My stomach twists.

“What’s the matter? You set that speaker up, didn’t you? Put it right there in the yard?”

I don’t want to be here. This isn’t real. It’s a lie– all of this is a lie. A sophisticated psy op designed to trick me into emotional vulnerability, staged by psychic vampires to feed off of my pain. Yes, that much is clear to me now. This is too sophisticated for the average raider.

“Since reality seems to confuse you, Mr. Falton, let me tell you what happened.” The vampire leans back, a smug smirk on his weasel face. “You rigged your own house with enough explosives to sink a battleship. Bombs planted everywhere from the under the couch to inside the walls. You set it to blow the day the nukes were supposed to fly. Why? That’s simple. You didn’t want anybody finding any hints about where your bunker was– just in case the ICBMs missed your rural slice of buttfuck nowhere. You didn’t want your family above ground, freely able to give away your location to psychic vampires.”

This is textbook emotional manipulation, a specialty of his breed. I won’t let him have his way with me though. I won’t let him feed off of me.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out an old book. My journal. “Picked this up in your bunker, Falton.” He flips through the pages. “Reading through it, you’d almost think you gave a damn about your family. After all, the sirens were for them, weren’t they? You set them up to play hoping it’d convince them at long last that nuclear war was well-and-truly underway. You hoped it’d convince them to follow you into the bunker. To bury them underground so their thoughts were safe from attack from… uh, psychic vampires.”

“Yeah. Things like you,” I spit.

“You gave them one last test of faith. One last chance to follow you into your rabbit hole of madness, and they refused. For that, you killed them.”

“Fuck you,” I say, and my voice is quivering. “You’re nothing but a lying sack of psychic shit! You think I can’t feel you probing my thoughts? Gaslighting me?”

“I wish I was lying, Mr. Falton. I really do.” The vampire sighs, and rises from the table. “I feel bad for you, truthfully. Sooner or later you’re going to realize you were wrong. I don’t know if it’s going to happen when I leave this room, or when you get to prison, but it will happen and when it does, it’s going to break you.”

He heads for the door, grabs the handle and then stops. “For what it’s worth, I looked into those conspiracies of yours. Some were pretty convincing. They laid it out in easy to understand terms, made sensible links between the vampires, the pyramids and the moon landing.”

He chuckles to himself. “I guess the only problem I had was that at the end of the day, none of their shit stood up to reality. It only made sense in a vacuum. As soon as you looked outside the conspiracy community, as soon as you realized how many little lies you needed to be fed to make the big lies seem palatable, well, that’s when the whole facade broke for me.” He grips the door frame, shakes his head and laughs. “It’s more exciting than reality though, I’ll give you that.”

He exits the room, leaving me alone in his elaborate set. I take a moment to admire the detail in the projector screen, the crispness of the sound system and the smell of fresh coffee. It’s impressive. He went to great lengths to pull the wool over my eyes, but unfortunately for him I’m not a sheep.

My eyes find his laptop on the table and I pull it toward me, surprised to find that the internet is still functional. Good. I just need it to update my blog one last time-- to let the world know that no matter what insane story the vampire's weave, they never fooled me. Never fed on me.

I know the nukes fell. I know we beat back the psychic assholes and I know human civilization is in ashes. I also know it's for the best. My family, if they were still here, would be proud of me for doing what was right.

The only thing I can’t quite explain are the blinds. There’s something about the way they dance up and down in front of the projection of the open window, the way I can feel the coolness of a breeze that’s hard to explain. Part of me wants to get up and check, just to make sure they’re fake. But then I think about how pointless that’d be.

After all, I already know the truth.

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naavispider · 1 year

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Chapter 31 - If you playing me that mean my home aint home

He stopped dead in the hallway. It felt like he was intruding on a private moment. Spider was wrapped in a blanket, his head half leaning against Wainfleet, eyes starting to close. The noises from the cartoon were the only sounds filling the space, until Lyle lifted his mask to take a breath. Quaritch did the same. He didn’t realise he’d been staring. He approached slowly so as not to startle Spider.

“Kid said anything yet?” he asked Wainfleet.

Lyle shook his head. “Seems happier now though.”

“Hmph.”

“I’m good here, boss. If you wanna debrief the squad.”

Quaritch looked at the unlikely pairing in front of him. Something lurched in his stomach, just like the first time he’d seen them, only stronger. He couldn’t tell what it was. He didn’t like it.

He appreciated Wainfleet’s offer, but he didn’t want to leave. At the same time however, it seemed his presence would probably just make things worse. Spider obviously felt more comfortable when he wasn’t around. He should just go and make a start on that report for Ardmore.

He nodded gruffly at Wainfleet and made his way back out to the deck of the SeaDragon. Savine leapt over to boycott him.

“What’s the plan boss?”

“Stand down. Off duty until tomorrow.”

Savine didn’t do as good of a job at hiding her disappointment as Wainfleet had. She exchanged a moody look with Mansk, who didn’t say anything.

“Mansk, write that report up for the last raid, and Savine… do something useful,” he finished off, irritated.

*******

Spider could tell he was moments away from sleep, but he didn’t fight his stubborn eyelids as they closed, nor his breathing as it deepened.

When he woke, he was still in the same place, but laying down horizontally on the padded bench. His head pounded, his stomach cramped painfully, and he wished he had stayed asleep.

Wainfleet was now on the floor, his back leaning against the bench. Spider’s head was behind the guy’s massive shoulder, and he could sense from the jerky movements that Wainfleet was probably typing on his tablet. Just then, his stomach growled loudly. Damn , he had to stop letting that happen. The recom turned around to see him awake, and shot him a small smirk.

“Hungry kid?”

Spider nodded slowly, not making eye contact.

“You wanna go to the canteen?”

He shook his head no.

Wainfleet seemed to consider this for a moment. “Okay, I can go and get you some grub, but are you gonna be okay here?”

Spider nodded again, having made no attempt to get up.

“Okay, don’t move… alright?”

Spider had no intention of moving. Where was he gonna go? Fling himself off the ship? He didn’t really fancy drowning. Perhaps he’d be eaten by an animal instead.

He pulled the blanket tighter and waited out the few minutes until Wainfleet’s return. He didn’t like being alone. It reminded him of being back in the cell. Those long days of solitary confinement… Spider was quite shocked he had survived that now.

Shaking away the unpleasant memories, he tried to focus on something more optimistic. It felt like there was nothing. Instead, he replayed the last episode of Tom and Jerry in his mind. Before he’d fallen asleep, the end of the episode had come on and the logo reminded him of the mouse’s name. He focused very mindfully on making a prediction for the next episode. Dumb, trivial things. That’s what he had to hold on to now. The only thing tethering him from slipping into complete insanity.

Way too much longer than Spider’s liking, Wainfleet returned, with an array of options from the canteen. He held them up in turn. “Sandwich, noodles, cookie, pasta bake… Don’t scoff the lot now,” Wainfleet’s attempt at humour pulled a small smile from Spider’s lips.

Spider slowly sat up and reached out for the pot noodles, wanting something warm, while Wainfleet shoved the cookie down.

Spider watched in surprise. He wasn’t sure that was an entirely wise move from the recom. He’d seen Lo’ak try human food before, and it didn’t end good. In fact, Spider vividly remembered Lo’ak vowing to never touch milk again.

The pot noodles were warm and slippery; easy to manage. They tasted surprisingly nice, and Spider was grateful for the unexpected absence of the usual nausea.

Wainfleet must have saved the progress he’d made on whatever he was typing up, because he switched the screen of his tablet back to Tom and Jerry. “You like this one, I know you do.”

Spider let a rueful smile slide over his face. His attempt to hide it obviously fell short, because Wainfleet grinned amusedly.

“You wanna try any others? Let me show you Looney Tunes…” Wainfleet flicked over to a different, more brightly coloured show, describing in simple terms the premise and plot. Spider liked the voices of this one. By the time the episode had finished, he’d decided his favourite character was Daffy Duck, even though he was hard to understand sometimes.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, watching the silly animations together, but he thought it must be late evening by the time Quaritch returned, posing the question of where Spider would sleep that night.

Despite having napped already this afternoon, he was still so tired. It had been a weird day.

“Do you wanna sleep inside tonight kid?” Quaritch asked softly.

If only Spider could see the visions Quaritch was having of keeping guard in the corridor outside his room all night, protecting the boy from himself, even if it meant a sleepless night for the recom.

Spider shook his head. For some reason, the thought of sleeping alone still terrified him. He would gladly sacrifice the comfort of a soft mattress for the company and feeling of safety that being around others brought him. He couldn’t have another night terror.

“You sure?” the man repeated the question.

Spider nodded his head, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

“I don’t believe it, was that a signature Spider eye roll I just witnessed?”

Spider had to fight extremely hard to prevent himself from reacting.

“Jesus Lyle, what have you been doing to him?” Quaritch remarked, raising his eyes at his right hand man.

The moment had been light-hearted, but just as the humour had bubbled inside Spider, it quickly faded. He was left resenting Quaritch once more; all happiness vanishing so he could barely remember its warmth.

“Right, come up on deck when you finish your pyjama party.” The man turned and left again, leaving them to it.

Something seemed off about Quaritch, but Spider didn’t have the energy nor the inclination to give it any further thought. His eyelids were already drooping again.

****

The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to find he was outside, it was night, and he was being carried along the deck of the ship, the wind a cooling contrast to the warmth of the blanket he was wrapped up in.

In Quaritch’s arms.

In Quaritch’s arms .

He panicked for just a moment, before playing it cool; the man’s grip was firm yet gentle as Spider lifted his head from Quaritch’s huge shoulder. Shit , he’d never, ever been held this intimately. He couldn’t untangle the swirl of emotions pooling in his stomach - he liked it, he hated it. It was wrong.

So why did he want to give himself over completely, surrender to the feeling?

“Let me go…” he mumbled half heartedly as the fuzz cleared from his mind.

“Jesus kid, relax,” came the response. Quaritch brought his hand up to cup Spider’s back closer to his chest.

Well . He couldn’t fight his way out of this one. So… why not allow it?

He rested his heavy head back on the man’s shoulder, closing his eyes against the total darkness of the oceanic night. The sounds of the recom’s voices floated over to them as they approached the fire, and Quaritch carefully deposited Spider on a duvet and pillow that he’d obviously brought out for him earlier.

Spider wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to cry.

He stared at Quaritch as the man backed away, realising that at some point the man had even fitted Spider’s mask over his unconscious face. The thought made him flush.

“You said you didn’t want to sleep inside…” Quaritch began.

“I don’t,” Spider replied quickly, surprising himself at the return of his voice.

His reply seemed to please Quaritch, for a small smile played over the recom’s mouth.

What had they got themselves into? That neither wanted to spend the night apart? Just as Spider was beginning to think he had finished with Quaritch completely, a stupid moment of vulnerability had caused all that to be questioned. He had been so resolute, so set on his decision to cut all emotional ties to his would-be-father. Damnit . This was not good.

As Quaritch continued to cast anxious glances at Spider from across the fire, Spider found that strangely, he didn’t mind it.

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wutlaikalikes · 9 months

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youtube

recommended stream: 【ストリートファイター6】ラシードをめちゃくちゃ使いたい男【アルランディス/ホロスターズ】

title translation: [Street Fighter 6] A man who wants to use Rashid insanely [Arurandeisu/Holostars]

thoughts: sometimes I tune in to streams just to have some background noise. I was never a good fighting game player. I sucked at it even if I'm button smashing. I honestly tuned in at the right time. About 1hr 15m, Machina x Flayon raided and sent a chat to fight him. Aruran being Aruran gladly accepted and asked him to go to voice chat. I love how Flayon doesn't hold back and tries to interact with his senpais despite the language barrier. Later on, Shien joined in.

It was really fun and hopefully in the near future they can set up a stream where Flayon and the rest of EN boys can join with the Holostars Fight Club in a Street Fighter 6 tourney.

Let's pray to Temma for another epic Holostars Collab.

#vtuber #holostars #holostars shorts #arurandeisu #kageyama shien #holotempus #machina x flayon

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spiderh0rse · 1 month

Text

freeman's mind notes part 6, e26-30

e26

new intro scene! AMS.

wants a gnome. Does not know what he's talking about here.

would feed his gnome granola and house it in a cage

gnome agnostic

can't think of anything people other than him have done right today

still waiting for hidden treasure...

knows German

"eeeh"

a bit surprised shooting road signs is the correct action to take

you are indeed number one, buddy

i hesitate to tell gordon about the deeply ableist roots of freak shows

would attempt to headbutt a headcrab

thinks the OAR tram is just for fun

[makes banjo noises]

HATES spinning tram

should have been a pirate

e27

PIRATE EISODS PIRATE EPISODE

MECHANICAL LONGBOAT AND MUSKETS

still wants to surface

it's still his exact speech patterns hes just doing a voice and slang

repeating flintlock.......

milksops,,,,, I am just going to be repeating back his silliest words here

oh yes raid those empty boxes

MONKEYSHINES

Miniature grapeshot is pretty clever tbh

he must sound nuts to anyone who happens to survive his passing

fighting.... fighting roosters. I will not quote directly.

"there be all manner of queer beasties in this hole" very true

should that be slur count five actually???? uh.. nah. Nah.

awwww we're done already :(

e28

drops the voice. Coughs horribly

has a LONG way to go before his voice sounds like that normally

ambassador pineapple!!!!

the HECU KNOWS his NAME

SNRJJDMRKRK THEY KNLY KNOW WHO HE IS BECAUSE OF THE BEARD

immediately distrusts something convenient

looking for money in a side room

headcrab SNOT MONSTER couple in the vomitorium

"yore dead."

yeah this amount of explosives underground is unpleasant

not yet at the phase in his life where he has to double tap people

not being paranoid would kill him, he's pretty sure

frog people mentioned AGAIN

owls are very dumb beasts. They probably can't read minds

freeman please stop being ableist i beg you. i BEG

has a perfect shot on some marine that isn't in his way. Doesn't shoot at him.

has $10,000 of gold in Massachusetts.

once again I cannot recognize the language but I can only assume he's speaking Hindi here

Eddie mention AGAIN. this time about transit

curious if his suit can stop heavy caliber bullets

"ha HA" goofiest laugh I've ever heard.

humming AGAIN

Finally thinks this isn't a rescue operation

e29

lack of corpses indicates he is going to wrong way

grappling hook Longing

nitroglycerin would be insanely unstable. Not shelf stable

insists he should not be this impulsive

confused at the lack of destruction in the wake of high explosives

wants to see explosive hurdles at the olympics

today's episode brought to us by the number eight

he keeps devising more and more unsettling tram plans

would love to engage in psychological warfare

wants some PILLS.

being on a submarine wouldn't make him feel better

that is too many shotgun blasts

silly voices continue

this IS a world where not all glass is bulletproof

the military probably doesn't have object permanence yeah

wants to make ghost noises. Makes straining noises instead

worse Marco Polo yeah yeah

does sit down to listen to the marines. Kills em when they're done though

does a little jump for joy when outside

what are these noises sir

HOWLS. WOLF NOISE

e30

new intro! flashing monitor room

howl CONTINUES

thinks he can pry blast doors open

the code to the door is not "leet"

familiar with the three stooges. Thinks Mo would kill the others

climbs up to the launch bay's window instead of puzzling his way by the dynamite

does consider not killing a couple of guys that aren't in his direct path

shaken by bullets getting near his head

resolves to just kill any member of the military he comes across regardless of their intent

the microbiology department was not a controversial bunch

"if somebody's grandma is cold and she puts on a camo blanket? she's DEAD."

presses the launch button without knowing what it does

drama queen <3

"i did not leave any fingerprints. I was wearing my suit." My favourite line in the series

climbs on out of there! Climbs back down! He knows he won't survive a multiple day trek across the open desert

he's just so matter-of-fact about killing everyone. It's delightful in some way i can't put words to

he has RENOUNCED his status as KING OF THE UNDERWORLD

tram based pizza delivery system

#will say i think the series of notes culminating in 'gnome agnostic' is some of the funniest stuff ive written in a while #freeman's mind #gordon freemind #rmanotes

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urproblematicfav-arsonk · 2 years

Text

Let's talk about ep 4 and how Edward is kinda a huge dick.

It's entirely possible other people have talked about this but I haven't seen it and I'm an opinionated autistic person so fuck you here we goooo

So something I think is really interesting about this episode how actually very cruel and mean Ed is towards Stede.

The beginning of Ed's fuckary is seen first when he brings up the clouds to Izzy and then later when Lucius confirms the threat of the Spanish closing in on them. After that Ed tells Lucius to start the Dramatic Countdown™ that fucking exactly matches the fog nearly to the second which is completely insane btw. I don't think it was part of Ed's original plan to the identity swap but the intent was always the same

To publicly humiliate and hurt The Gentleman Pirate.

The plan was always to dramatically appear on The Revenge in blood and smoke. The Gentleman Pirate already humiliated and half dead only for the Great Blackbeard to show mercy for a time. Then because The Gentleman Pirate is clearly incompetent, when the Spanish arrive does he have a plan? No of course not, but wait,

I think when the identity swap happens the plan becomes a lot more cruel. Ed clearly likes Stede and is being open with him(largely because he knows he's going to destroy/leave him soon and thus no consequences)and then we get our cute moment of them pretending to be each other. Ed gets to have fun for a moment before shit goes down(like he planned)

Specifically I wanna walk about this scene.

And more specifically lol the noise Taika makes. Ed makes such extremely condescending "hmm :(" at Stede when his attempt at a plan clearly won't work. This whole scene is Ed pressuring and hurting Stede. He knows Stede isn't prepared as a pirate and he's known that before he even met him. He wants Stede to feel the pressure and fear he feels, to emotionally break him in so to say. He's mocking and belittling him and honestly seems to find it funny. And not only that it was all fucking premeditated because Lucius shows up to finish the countdown adding onto the extremely elaborate psychology torture that Ed has devised.

And then Ed's plan comes to fruition. Blackbeard comes in with his genius plan and saves the day. The crew cheer and praise him and The Gentleman Pirate stands a coward and a failure.

Of course that doesn't happen.

And I think its really fucking interesting that in the end it's actually Izzy who does to Ed what he was trying to do to Stede.

He humiliates him in front of the whole crew and proves that The Captain was incompetent with no plan.

Unlike Edward who never seems to show any remorse for how he treats Stede this episode, Izzy seems pretty fucking guilty after embarrassing Ed like that.

And no point during any part of the Fuckary does Stede seem to realize this was all Ed's plan. He's upset and stressed in the moment but seems to forgive and forget pretty quickly. I assume this is mostly because Stede is still starstruck by Ed and isn't going to be confrontational about it even if he knew.

AND NOW PART 2: Izzy Apologisim

I think its really fucked up of Ed to dangle Izzy future in front of him like that.

Izzy is so flustered and happy that Ed would pass down the mantle like that to him. That Edward would see Izzy insubordination and say "No you're right, thank you for calling me out" and then offer him the best possible promotion only to then say "lol nah" and walk away.

The immediate heartbreak on Izzy's face when he realizes that Ed was just fucking with him is so sad to me but what's even worse

Is the fucking pride he feels when he realizes that Ed's "needs him". In that moment being Blackbeard's first mate is a life far better then any chance at captaincy ever was. And I think that's honestly awful.

Repeatedly throughout the episode Izzy is shown to be extremely anxious and worried about their plan. Edward has at no point before or after the initial raid on The Revenge has shared his plan with Izzy. Izzy calmy asks over and over for Edward to just talk to him, to work with him and come up with a plan and EVERY time Edward shoots him down and then gaslights him like Izzy was the problem here and not Ed. There's no real reason for Ed to be hiding this. And the second Izzy realizes that Ed does in fact have a plan during the Dramatic Countdown™ he visibly calms down and is even upset with Pete for ruining Ed's moment.

"Once again I'll come up with a plan and when we barely get by" implies this is absolutely not the first time they've gone ass first into a situation that Edward didn't secretly have a plan for and Edward similarly here, didn't wanna come up with one leaving Izzy to panic and be forced to try to save them and their crew. Edward lies, avoids blame by being the hero and kills his crew for the chance to play dress up. I fully don't think Izzy is being irrational here at all. He's working with what he's got and Edward refuses to cooperate like Iz needs him too.

A lot of people seem to think that Ed is a tragic hero trapped by his own reputation and masculinity. But the thing is, Edward himself is always the one enforcing that concept.

He's the one who made a elaborate plan to fuck with one guy.

He's the only reveling in The Revenge's adoration and praise

He's the one who comes up with a completely unnecessary murder plot "for Izzy" when Izzy would've most definitely been ok with just Ed leaves and he becomes Blackbeard.

Edward's toxic masculinity is a idea he perpetuates himself for his own benefit. And in the very end it was Edward's choice to fall back onto that violence instead of what he had been trying to create

#the point is #ed is a nuanced and complex person #this isnt slander i do really like him #but i wanna talk about all parts of his character ya know #ofmd #our flag means death #my meta #character analysis #long post #ofmd ep 4 #edward teach #stede bonnet #izzy hands

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nihongoseito · 1 year

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vocab pt. 6 from シュナの旅!

shit got wild this chapter.... 👀 i think there’ll only be one more list in this series, so stay tuned!

nouns:

雲間（くもま） = rift between clouds

渚（なぎさ） = water’s edge, shore

砂洲（さす） = sandbar, shoal

浅瀬（あさせ） = shallows, sandbar

空地（あきち／くうち） = empty land

群（ぐん） = group, crowd, swarm

ひとかけら = one fragment, piece

休息（きゅうそく） = rest, relief

建造物（けんぞうぶつ） = structure, building

耕地（こうち） = farmland, plantation

弾力（だんりょく） = elasticity, flexibility

塊（かたまり） = lump, mass, bundle (katamari damacy!)

燐光（りんこう） = phosphorescence

朝陽（ちょうよう） = morning sun, sunrise

芽（め） = sprout, shoot, bud

赤錆（さかさび） = rust

穂（ほ） = ear (e.g., corn, wheat)

種族（しゅぞく） = species

生命（せいめい） = life, existence

verbs:

荒れる（あれる） = to become stormy, rough

横たわる（よこたわる） = to lie down, stretch out

抜ける（ぬける） = to come out, fall out, come loose

沈む（しずむ） = to sink, go under

満ちる（みちる） = to fill, become full of, be filled with

滅びる（ほろびる） = to go extinct, die out

よろける = to stagger, stumble

よろめく = to stagger, stumble

荒らす（あらす） = to lay waste to, devastate, damage; to invade

分け入る（わけいる） = to force one’s way through, push through

脅かす（おびやかす） = to intimidate, frighten; to threaten, jeopardize

かすめる = to graze, skim, brush against, appear and quickly disappear; to steal; to deceive

出くわす（でくわす） = to happen to meet, come across

やらめく = to flicker, waver, sway

そびえる = to rise, tower (e.g., building, mountain)

耕す（たがやす） = to till, plow, cultivate

踏み込む（ふみこむ） = to step into, break into, raid (e.g., foreign territory)

踏み入れる（ふみいれる） = to walk in on, tread upon

逆立つ（さかだつ） = to stand on end, be ruffled

おそわれる = to be tormented (by dreams), have a nightmare

ゆする = to shake, jolt

静まり返る（しずまりかえる） = to fall completely silent, become still as death

浸す（ひたす） = to soak, steep, immerse; to moisten, wet

潤す（うるおす） = to moisten, wet

よじる = to screw, twist

むしりとる = to tear off, pluck off, take forcibly

貫く（つらぬく） = to go through, pierce

食いしばる（くいしばる） = to clench/grit one’s teeth

握りしめる（にぎりしめる） = to grasp tightly

狂う（くるう） = to go mad/insane

躍り込む（おどりこむ） = to jump into, rush into

adjectives:

穏やか（おだやか）な = calm, gentle, peaceful

安らか（やすらか）な = peaceful, tranquil, calm

奇怪（きかい／きっかい）な = strange, wonderful, mysterious

緩やか（ゆるやか）な = loose, slack

傍ら（かたわら）の = side, beside, nearby

鋭い（するどい） = sharp (e.g., blade, pain, noise)

adverbs/onomatopoeiae:

黙々（もくもく） = silent, mute

ゾッと = shuddering, shivering; being horrified, disgusted

一斉（いっせい） = all at once, simultaneously

夜半（やはん／よわ） = midnight, dead of night

ぴったり = tightly, closely; exactly, precisely

ぐずぐず = slowly, hesitantly, dawdling, lingering

expressions:

に従い（したがい） = in accordance with

Nづたい = along, alongside, following N

そのもの = the very thing, the thing itself

目（め）が眩む（くらむ） = to be dizzy, disoriented; to be dazzled

#langblr #japanese #日本語 #ghibli #shuna's journey #this language has so many VERBS!!!#shuna's journey more like sasha's verb journey #vocab #sasha.txt

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t1meslayer · 2 months

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Going in for round 2!

I had a lot of fun with my Debrief for "Stone-Cold Lovers (Ch. 3)," and I think there's a bunch of interesting, insightful aspects to my writing here given Splatoon's setting offers plenty of aquatic-themed worldbuilding.

So, let's get into it! Check out my full author's commentary below the cut — but only after you've had the chance to read "By Moonlight," my latest Splatoon fanfic.

I've been playing Splatoon since the 2015 original on Wii U. But to be completely honest, the series never hit me until Splat3. I never bought Octo Expansion (though I did watch most of it), so "Return of the Mammalians" may have just become the first time I truly appreciated how insane the series' lore is. Playing through the final battle during a road trip back from San Francisco with a couple of buddies is something I'll remember forever.

I also fell in love with Shiver and Marie as a couple, spawning a whole host of fanfictions.

But that's neither here nor there. Because this story is about Pearlina.

(The featured image evolved over time)

Another consequence of my foolishness circa Splatoon 2 is I didn't realize how much I liked Off the Hook's music. In fact, the origins of this very fanfic came from a brief obsession with Marina's piano-playing prowess on songs like "Tentacle to the Metal" when Splatoon 3 released in 2022. A connection to the 1st Movement of "Moonlight Sonata" was baked into the premise by their similar set of three notes playing in succession.

Though, I should be clear: I am not a classical music nerd, nor any kind of music nerd. I have a pretty terrible ear for music, and as a result don't listen to much (video game soundtracks notwithstanding, most of my ambient noise is YouTube videos, TV, or podcasts).

If we want to get really deep into the weeds of how pathetic I am, my main attachment to "Moonlight Sonata" stems from Hamtaro: Ham-Ham Heartbreak (2002) on the GBA.

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My rendition of Marina playing the song even ends at essentially the same point as this game's usage, since it's baked into my soul.

When's Hamtaro coming to Nintendo Switch Online, cowards?

That being said, I largely based the in-universe playing on this video by Rousseau, a YouTube channel that creates fancy visuals for piano covers of classical and pop music:

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My original plan was to have Eight gift the Beethoven book to Pearl and Marina as an oddity acquired through raiding Grizzco facilities following "Return of the Mammalians." However, the idea came back in full-force with the release of Splatoon 3: Side Order. There was a brief period where I considered applying to the Pearlina zine "You and Me Against the Universe!" with something similar, but that was before I fell into my drive to write for zines.

Side Order definitely feels like a test run for more fleshed-out Roguelike modes in future Splatoon games, but I'm enjoying it all the same. And I just had to include tidbits of lore like Eight joining Off the Hook's world tour.

As one final note on "Moonlight Sonata," this is the first time I've written a musical performance as prose. My Mariver fic "Harmonic Frequencies" ends with a bit of choreography for Deep Cut's tribute to "Calamari Inkantation," but that's about as far as it goes. Luckily, my sister is studying Music Education and Music Performance in college (and she graduates soon!), so I was able to lean on her as a source of knowledge.

She just had to suffer through my insufferable gay seafood to get there.

Her main advice was to think of writing musical prose not as a literal translation of sheet music, but instead to really hone in on the emotions of listening to music. It took a bit to figure out the right balance between describing the performance itself and the more emotive images it conjures in Pearl's head, but I love the outcome!

My sister said, "Also the moonlight stuff is fire af." Clearly I've peaked.

===

Fun Fact: She told me I should look into the creepier aspects of "Moonlight Sonata" while writing. Did you know that the song is dedicated to then-16-year-old Countess Giulietta Guicciardi (per Brittanica), a student whom he fell in love with (per New York Times)?

Because I didn't.

===

My presentation of Pearl changed a fair bit over the course of this writing. Pearl's They/She pronouns were pretty spur of the moment, and the idea of They/She Napoleon has since become a running in-joke between me and my beta reader, the incredible artist Trybard (who was the source of my great screencap preview post that I blocked out for anonymity of personal socials).

Pearl with full tattoo sleeves was also a sudden decision that's entirely inspired by a Twitter post; I unfortunately cannot find that post anymore, it disappeared after I shifted pages. Likewise, Pearl learning Octarian is part-cute girlfriend stuff, part-excuse to use the joke about them reading Beethoven as "Beat-Havin'" that came to me in a flash of divine inspiration.

Marina doesn't get nearly as much love in the personal headcanon department, it was Trybard who suggested she might wear a citrus-y perfume smell. I added the motor oil.

I also added the fact that she's living it up in Pearl's downtown apartment, and lending out goofy manga-themed sleep shirts.

Off the Hook's apartment setting only includes the windowed hallway and main foyer (which I hope adds to the sense that Pearl is rich enough to afford the most ridiculously huge apartment of all time). However, there are two tidbits about the setting that I quite enjoy:

First, did you catch the bit about the charred piece of hull? I wanted to keep it subtle in writing, but my intent was referencing the NILS Statue! Did Pearl or Marina take the trophy? Who knows.

Second, Off the Hook's wall of records went through hefty trial-and-error. I settled on the idea of giving them Gold/Platinum/Diamond records (ala the real-world practice of Recording Industry Association of America certification) while listening to the collective works of Off the Hook. Given this is pre-Splat3, I imagined that the new recording of "Nasty Majesty" and their Splatfest theme "Color Pulse" would have among the most attention.

I also imagined that Splatoon wouldn't just use an exact 1-1 copy of our record certifications. Thus, the Recording Industry Association of Inkadia (RIAI) was born.

Rather than using precious metals to delineate sales, I decided to go with the more Splatoon-feeling marker of "neon records." I actually did a minor amount of research, predominately leaning on the website of Brigham Young University physics and astronomy professor Harold T. Stokes to figure out Neon's color spectrum.

Using this, I equated:

Violet = Gold (500,000 sales)

Green = Platinum (One Million sales)

Yellow = Double Platinum (Two Million sales)

Red = Diamond (Ten Million sales)

I even formatted the text to look like an actual RIAA plaque, just with the color's name rather than a literal record. AO3's HTML formatting can only go so far.

I used the "acronym" formatting to add extra context in the form of each song's to-date sales, which was all I originally planned to say. Learned all about that option in my horrific opening chapter to the Pokemon Scarlet and Violet fic "Paradiso," in which Arven has a nightmare that breaks the text "House of Leaves" style.

And that, my friends, is all she wrote.

I could go way deeper into the minutia Pearl's boisterous tone or Marina utilizing mechanical terms, but the broad strokes of where certain ideas originate seems like a better use of my "Debrief" time. Let me know what more you might want to see me discuss going forward, or what ideas for Splatoon fics you wanna see added to my eternal backlog! (The poll-winning Stardew Valley piece has to take priority now — no more game release distractions~)

Though, as one final note: Yes, the title is a Sailor Moon reference.

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You're welcome.

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