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maddys-nerd-blog · 8 months

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Here’s another snippet of my AU, Familia: Gone in a Flash!! This one’s the angsty piece that I drew up a few weeks ago, so be prepared, there’s tons of whump 😅😂

Heart lurching into her windpipe faster than a runaway train, Katie suddenly lost the ability to breathe. “Oh my God!” She almost dropped her gun in her panic, shoving past Traximus immediately as she broke into a sprint. “MY BOYS!”

She tried the door. No dice; it had been locked. Trying to pry the latch of the handle she pushed against it with all her bare strength, grunting and growling with the strain. The muscles in her neck and biceps popped, her blood was racing, adrenaline kicking into overdrive to keep her moving.

“Stand back!“ Traximus moved her aside, bracing his hands into the steel bar and wrenching it upwards, metal groaning under his clutches. The Triceraton wasted no time in ripping the latch off with a terrible scream of titanium being shredded apart, the sound rattling her skull with a vengeance.

She slammed her shoulder into the decrepit door, smashing it wide open with an all-too loud crash. Metal hinges screeched in protest from the impact, rusty screws popping free and flying in random directions. Katie moved through the shadowy entrance with haste, heart palpitating, blood racing. Nothing was on her mind. She couldn’t think straight.

Nothing mattered except getting her boys home. Put the mission first. Put the kids first.

Get them home above all else.

Protect and Serve.

The mantra rooted itself into her core. No amount of time that passed would erase the fundamental purpose of what created her, drove her, gave her the means to keep fighting. The boys had changed her. Leo, Donnie, Raph, Jason… they’d given her what she’d been denied her entire life.

They had given her the chance to be a mom.

And they were depending on her to get them out of here. Now more than anything, she couldn’t let herself get tangled in that anger.

Katie clutched her pistol in an iron grip, white-knuckled, the trigger pressing down ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Moving through a disgustingly messy floor where debris and planks of wood were left scattered, the detective looked around with urgency, emerald eyes piercing the darkness. “BOYS!?”

Her voice bounced off the walls. Nothing.

“BOYS!” She bellowed again, voice cracking. “BOYS I’M HERE!”

Again, no response other than the echo of her cries taunting her.

Por favor, no. Don’t let them be dead. A terrible chill grabbed her shoulders and shook her like a rag-doll. Please don’t let them be dead. Please don��t let me be too late. Not again.

“DONATELLO!” Katie called desperately. “LEONARDO! RAPHAEL!” Swallowing a sob to repress the daunting horror threatening to eat her alive she cried out, “JASON! MIJO!”

Dead silence was her reply.

She advanced further into the warehouse, gun still clutched fiercely in two trembling hands. “BISHOP! COME OUT AND FUCKING FACE ME, YOU COWARD!”

Katie looked around the vacant space. It was cleared out, all remnants of shattered glass from the skylight windows or the concrete rubble pushed aside to create some kind of arena. Metal pipes blocked off an emergency fire exit, welded together to form a blockade that sealed the automatic doors shut from the inside. Something suspicious that caught her eye was a rigging system of some kind tethered to the far left side of the room, a pulley leading towards the ceiling.

Before she could investigate, Traximus shouted in pain from somewhere in the darkness behind her.

Red flags shot up in her the back of her head, hairs on her neck rising. Cocking the safety off her pistol she whirled around, gun raised and ready to fire. “TRAX?!“

“Unfortunately he can’t come to your aid, Detective.”

Katie’s body went stone cold, cementing her where she stood. Slinking into view in what little light there was coming from the holes in the threadbare roof, Bishop almost seemed to blend in with the shadows, his suit granting him complete secrecy. Sunglasses still hiding his sinister eyes, the agent dragged a prone Traximus with him on the floor, the Triceraton wrapped in thick cables that hummed with electric energy. The warrior still attempted to struggle against his bonds, snarling with anger as he desperately tried to fight back.

Bishop dropped the mighty gladiator to the dusty floor, stepping around the bulkier alien as he approached the woman who aimed a gun straight towards his skull. A callous smirk oozing with a sick sense of intrigue greeted her, his demeanor cocky and arrogant as though his presence was enough to put the fear of God into her. “I almost expected you not to turn up. But here you are! Punctual and with not a second to spare.”

Katie bared her teeth with a silent fury that was drowning her soul. Every fiber in her body roared, demanding blood, demanding retribution, craving the urge to rip this man to pieces for all he’d put her boys through. “Where are they?”

Bishop smirked. “The mutants are alive. Although I’m quite surprised that you didn’t locate them sooner.”

What? Katie leveled her gun to aim for Bishop’s chest, unwilling to take her gaze off him for even a moment, lest he try to attack. “I’m not here to play anymore games, asshole! What did you do to them!?”

The bastard actually started chuckling to himself. Reaching a slender hand to push his sunglasses up higher to rest on the bridge of his nose, the agent shook his head as if he were talking down to a child. “You know, you claim to be clever. But when the cards are down you’re no more than a fumbling buffoon who can’t keep a lid on her anger. It was so easy. All I had to do was take away the thing you held close and watch the fireworks. Humanity is fed by the need to control, to dominate, to learn what we cannot understand. But you, Detective, seem to abandon your human ways in order to protect creatures that only carry a fraction of our intelligence.” His gaze drifted towards her pistol. “The shaking of your firearm proves my point.”

“FUCK OFF!” Taking a step forward to disguise her weakness, Katie shouted at the bigot with a snarl. “Don’t press buttons you aren’t ready to push, coño! Tell me what you did to my boys or so help me—“

Lights flashed on. Out of nowhere there was suddenly blinding rays coming from fixtures in the ceiling, rendering the woman stunned as her world was filled with black spots that flooded around the edges of her vision. She stumbled, crying out with bewilderment, raising an arm to block the worst of the light.

But above her… she heard noise.

Voices. Garbled, incoherent, panicked… scared. Her head whipped up towards the source of the sounds—

And her mouth dropped open with horror.

Strung fifty feet in the air, dangling like ornaments on a Christmas tree, were her boys. The four of them were bound back to back, each of their cords meeting in the middle to connect to a hook that kept them suspended. Their arms were behind them, strands of rope wrapped around their chests keeping them immobile. Gags had been fixed between their teeth— that explained why she hadn’t been able to hear them.

She spotted Raph first. He was furiously kicking his legs, thrashing and bucking in his restraints like a crazed horse, yelling against his gag with protest as he tried to get loose. Mondo was next to him, sandwiched between Raph and Leon, who was also struggling but not as viciously as Raph. She caught the smallest glimpse of Donnie behind them, the youngest unable to see her, fearfully whimpering. Leon kept looking at the purple masked turtle with great empathy, mumbling what would have been words of comfort to a version of his brother he’d grown close to. It broke her heart.

Mondo’s face was slick with tears streaming down his cheeks— bulbous yellow eyes were bloodshot and puffy, like he’d been weeping for hours. His voice was somehow the loudest against the chorus of muffled noises in the group, little legs flailing around in blind panic as he shook and swayed against his ropes. Despite the gag she could still hear him crying out ‘Mom’ to the best of his ability.

Some kind of primal instinct was awakened at that moment. Feral in nature, rabid, wild, manic. An untapped emotion that had never made itself known until now. Baring her teeth she whirled towards Bishop— the mother fucker actually looked amused by the mayhem he’d caused, the genuine fear he’d put into her kids— and she cocked the gun towards his temple, expression contorted into one of malice. “LET THEM GO!”

“Don’t be so brash.” Bishop tutted. “You wouldn’t shoot me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” She challenged through clenched teeth. “I kill you and the game’s over. You don’t get to destroy any more families.”

“Only I have access to the pulley keeping your precious ‘boys’ from turning into heaps of splattered brains and viscera,” Bishop caught the stunned silence from the woman, gesturing to the rigging system. “This building was constructed one hundred and seventeen years ago. The safety codes aren’t what they are currently to our standards. One little nudge— one misplaced bullet, perhaps— can shatter the pulley’s chain and send the mutants plummeting. Not even you can stop it.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” Katie cocked the pistol, disengaging the safety. “I got them away from you once.”

“And can you help them get away from certain death?” Bishop taunted, taking slow, calculated steps towards her while she fought to maintain her composure. “A fall from that high can kill a regular human being. Think about what kind of damage it could have on a turtle shell or a gecko cranium. I’m told terrapins don’t have spines, but… there’s only one way to find out now, isn’t it?”

Katie’s hands shook madly around the pistol. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” Bishop dared. “Go on. Shoot me, Detective,” he approached casually, hands folded behind him until he was well within reaching distance. “You made such a farce, after all! Why should you have to wait any longer?” He leaned forward just a margin, allowing the barrel of her pistol to press into the center of his forehead. “By all means! Do it! Show your dear mutant children how much of a hero you are! But if your shot should slip and strike the pulley… that would be a waste.”

Her heart was beating madly in her ribs. One finger threatened to press the trigger, but her anxiety made her freeze. Bishop could have been bullshitting her. He was a manipulative bastard with the greatest silver tongue on the planet. He’d say anything to mess with her head to second guess herself. Katie’s eyes flickered upward to check on the kids, trying to gauge if the hook keeping them suspended was at risk of potential damage—

Taking her eyes off of Bishop was a mistake.

He moved so fast the human eye couldn’t catch the rush of movement, the sudden blur of black jolting her into shock as he reeled a fist back and made a devastating blow to the bottom of her jaw, knocking her off balance. The bone beneath the skin cracked upon impact, loosening several teeth. It struck the pistol out from her hands, the weapon flying far out of reach. Another hard kick to her gut threw the woman into a crate somewhere beyond the reaches of the spotlight. Sections of her spine crackled instantly.

“And here I thought you were smarter than that!” Bishop laughed at her expense. Picking herself upright she ground her jaw together, every fiber in her body urging her to bludgeon the bastard.

Ripping her cardigan off and discarding it to the wayside, she balled her hands into fists and bellowed at the top of her lungs. “TRY ME, MOTHER FUCKER!” She took a running start as she reeled a fist back to land as solid right hook to his left cheekbone, whipping his head to the side.

Bishop looked at her, fingers raising to touch the developing bruise on his face. A coy smirk rode up his lips. “All that bravado for one punch,” he scoffed, sending icy chills down her spine.

She went to hit him again, only to be blocked. Her swings and jabs were shoved aside as if she were just a kid flailing her arms. His timing was almost infallible; catching her blind spots faster than the human eye could process, calculating her punches and where she was going to land them. If she got lucky enough to hit an area that she suspected was weak, he brushed it off and doubled down with a harder blow. It made her question whether or not he was a robot.

Katie barely managed to maneuver herself up and out of the way of another incoming kick that shattered another crate where she’d been thrown into. Her eyes fluttered, blood oozing out of split lips and shredded skin, struggling to push herself up to her knees to get her bearings. In the clearing she could hear Traximus shouting for her to run, but overhead the boys were screaming.

“Come on, Detective,” Bishop used her title like a slur, spitting it out as though it were a rotten taste left on his tongue. He advanced, shadows cascading sharp features with harsh contours, razor-like against his thin frame. His sunglasses were off, tucked safely into a breast pocket in his jacket, beady orbs wickedly stunning through heavy gradients of black. “I thought you wanted to put me down. Here’s your opportunity!”

She scrambled to her feet— blood rushed to her head, dizziness colliding into her frontal lobe. Staggering, she blinked the spotty blur out of her vision with a fierce shake to snap herself out of it. Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall over goddamn it. Spitting out the coppery liquid that saturated her mouth Katie squinted through the pain, gritting aching teeth, clenching her fists to position herself to take a boxer’s stance. “Don’t… count me out… just yet…”

Bishop’s face twisted— gone was the arrogant charade he was putting on, in its place was a mask of ominous intent. Hardened. “You still persist in the face of defeat. You threw away humanity’s interest in favor of playing house with FREAKS. You shame your badge by sullying it with your sins.”

There was a thick silence that separated them as dense as fog. For a few minutes Katie hadn’t moved, didn’t speak, just… stared at him with brilliant emerald eyes. She hung her head, hair shading a bloody brow as her shoulders began to shake. Bishop pondered if she had started weeping…

But was left baffled when she started keening with laughter.

It was a creaky sound that ripped her throat, full-chested with purpose as the woman practically shrieked uproariously in the face of the sociopath. Bracing her hand against her diaphragm she doubled over, clutching at the skin as if trying to keep it at bay.

Finally, she found her voice. “You think… you think that shit means anything to me? That I give a flying fuck what YOU or other bigots believe? You sound just like my stepmother! Preaching what you don’t understand to simple minded assholes who think acting like animals to other sentient beings is the answer to all your problems! I’d give up my badge in a goddamn HEARTBEAT if it meant I can give those boys the life they deserve! I’ve lived my entire career defending those who couldn’t protect themselves. I’ve watched good cops get killed trying to serve their community. I’ve seen really shitty felons get off scot-free while the families they tore apart have to grieve the loss of a loved one who was butchered just for fun. My badge is my duty to everyone. ANYONE.”

Her fingers dug into the depths of her belt, keeping him talking. A few more inches. “Those boys are my purpose. They deserve to have a life.”

Bishop’s lips curled with disgust. “They’re MUTANTS—“

“They’re children!”

“You’re insane if you believe this rhetoric! Do you honestly think those abominations are capable of blending in to our society?!”

“YES!” Fingertips brushed against the hidden item lodged between her holster and belt. Just a little more. “Why are you so adamant that they can’t?!”

“THEY DO NOT BELONG!” Bishop exclaimed. “Mutants take and destroy all they touch! They’re ravenous! Once they infect one, they infest all! They can’t be allowed to roam this planet! Humans won’t be safe until every single one of them are purged from this soil!” His eyes narrowed ruefully. “And I’ll kill anyone who stands in my way.”

Katie’s lips drew back into a thin line, glaring daggers at the nutcase. “Huh. Well.” Her hand found purchase around the familiar wooden grip of her concealed weapon. “Not me.”

She pounced. She ripped her butterfly knife out of her belt, leaping forward like a spring having been wound too tight. Snapping the blade free with a flick of her wrist, Katie twirled it in her fingers as she tackled Bishop to the wall and, steeling her resolve, plunged it several inches deep into his bicep.

Incensed, Bishop grabbed her face, trying to push her away. Katie bit his fingers just as they attempted to go for her eyes. She drove her knee into his sternum to knock the air out of his lungs, throw him off balance, do something to hinder him from going after the kids. The more time he spent focusing on killing her, the safer the boys would be.

Bishop grabbed her hair, yanking her head back to rip her off of him, in doing so he tore several pieces of black strands free in his iron fist. When her throat was exposed he punched the weak spot where her windpipe was located. She choked, staggering, releasing the agent to try and retreat, but he was faster even with a knife stuck in his arm. He grappled her around the waist, using the momentum to drag her across the floor until he bodily rammed her into a steel beam near the pulley system, rattling both her bones and the support structure.

Katie coughed out blood through clenched teeth, stifling a scream. Two ribs cracked from within her chest. Her head whipped back from the blow and hit the beam, creating a terrible headache that shook her entire skull. The world started to tilt on its axis…

His hands grabbed both sides of her head. Fingers dragging into her scalp Bishop delivered a powerful head-butt to her forehead, crashing their foreheads together. That caused her senses to become nullified, rendering her stunned. He reeled her head back a second time to land devastating punches to her face, over and over, breaking her nose in the process, painting his knuckles with her blood. He seized her shoulders and threw her to the floor, kicking the woman in the abdomen to send her rolling across the ground and back into the clearing where everyone could see her.

“YOU DEPLORABLE BASTARD!” Traximus roared, fighting the electric cords that kept him pinned. “YOU HAVE NO HONOR! FIGHTING YOUR OPPONENT WHEN THEY’RE DEFENSELESS! YOU COWARD!”

“Coming from an alien whose entire race threatened to conquer Earth when humans were defenseless,” Bishop stepped into the center, slammed a foot deep into the depths of Katie’s abdomen and digging his heel in. She tried to reach up to grab at his leg, but he swatted it away. “Don’t worry. Your death will be painless, if you’re lucky.”

“My… life… means… nothing,” Katie rasped between shaky breaths. “Those kids… matter more… to… me.” She spat a mouthful of bright crimson onto his pristine leather loafers, lips cracking a wicked smirk at his expense. “More… than… a shit stain… like you… I bet… your dear old daddy… never loved you either… eh, fuck face?”

Bishop wasn’t impressed by the snide remarks. Instead, he knelt down close, heel sinking deeper into her gut, pressing her down into the floor. Leaning close he whispered in her ear. “Projecting your own problems onto me won’t save you. And those mutants are worth nothing.” He raised himself back up to straddle her, pinning the beaten detective as she writhed to break free. “It is adorable that your delusions tell you otherwise.”

He began to pummel her without a second thought.

Overhead the boys were still causing a ruckus, either shouting or screaming, thrashing wildly in a vain effort to get free. Raph was swinging back and forth, slamming into Leo, knocking him against Donnie as Mondo wept. The gecko made every attempt he could to wriggle loose, even if it meant certain doom by doing so, but he’d been bound so tight it was digging into his being with no mercy. Not once did he stop crying out for his ‘mom’.

Not even Leo was trying to hide the frantic terror that was etched in his features; having to turn his face away from the brutal beatings, flinching each time a bone popped or Katie yelped. Donnie was deathly silent throughout the sadistic process, internally grateful to not have to bare witness to the graphic display of casual violence. Raph was swearing at the top of his lungs, muffled death threats and curses blocked by the fabric cinched in his teeth, the ropes scratching his skin to the point of soreness and rubbing it raw.

The beating went on for fifteen minutes. It felt like a lifetime.

“Admit it!” Bishop punched the woman across the jaw. His pale knuckles were dripping with blood. “You failed these mutants the same way you failed your partner!”

“D-Don’t—“ Katie was cut off by a devastating punch to her cheekbone for a hundredth time.

“You failed your badge. Your rank. Your family.” Bishop grabbed her by the collar and hoisted her up halfway to meet his gaze, the motion of which made her queasy. “Those freaks.”

He dropped her back to the floor. “You’re a disgrace to those you claim you defend. You think you’re bettering yourself? Look in the mirror. All I see is a desperate cry for attention coming out of an alcoholic mess who pretends to play mother to a group of rejected monsters, thinking the entire time she’s doing the right thing.”

A hand snatched her by the hair, rag-dolling her across the floor. Her fingers dug themselves into the dirt stubbornly to try and root herself down, to stop this deranged lunatic from hauling her around. Colors blurred throughout her bloodied eyes, swirling into a cacophony of delirium that threatened to engulf her consciousness and devour her whole. The bones in her right arm were brittle. Her chest was battered, ribs most likely cracked or fractured. She didn’t even want to imagine what her face looked like…

Bishop continued monologuing as though she gave a minute shit as to what he was talking about. “I’ve dedicated hundreds of years to eliminating alien threats that put humanity at risk. I’ve devoted thousands of hours into my efforts to kill any unwanted creature who poses a threat. I’ve spent millions putting my plans into fruition. I’m a man with a purpose to destroy all who seek to stop my goals. Your death will be no different. Nobody shall grieve your loss when I fill your heart with premium lead! YOU’RE PATHETIC!”

He threw her into a table set off to the side, her body crashing down through the flimsy furniture. There was no energy to move, no last second surge of adrenaline. All her strength had been depleted. The ability to breathe became strenuous…

Her half-lidded gaze lifted back towards the boys, all of whom still fought like hell and screamed. Leo could no longer withstand the stress, weeping quietly. Donnie was still turned away from the chaos unfolding, but she could hear him crying for her. Raph somehow was getting louder, almost verbal beneath the gag as he shouted and began to beg, sounding desperate.

Mondo had gone quiet. His golden eyes were glued to her, bloodshot, unable to look away. Soft sniffles cut through the quiet that rung in her ears, deafening from afar. My baby, she wanted to comfort. Mijo…

This couldn’t be how it ended. She couldn’t allow this lunatic to take her boys. She couldn’t let him gleefully drag the kids to lord knows where to be experimented on like science class frogs.

Glassy orbs drifted to the left, aimless. A warm stream of red trickled along the bridge of her nose. I can’t die here. I can’t die. I can’t. I can’t… Tears would have shown themselves had her eyes not been so badly beaten. My boys…

Something glistened in the corner of her delirious vision. Numbly confused, Katie tilted her head enough to gauge what it was that had caught her attention.

Her heart thudded, fast pulses bashing her body like a bull in a caged-in fence.

The kids’ weapons. All discarded like trash in a garbage bag; Mondo’s darts, his skateboard, Leo’s ōdachi, Donnie’s bō and sound channeling headphones, Raph’s sai.

All within reach, unseen in the darkness by Bishop.

Fucking MORON.

She kept the blank expression of agony on her face as he drew near, his hands gripping her own pistol to deal the killing blow. He towered above the woman, a devilish grin of sick satisfaction crawling on a face only a mother could love. “Poor Kathrine. You spent your entire existence running from your problems, but you were too slow to avoid the outcome of your consequences. Rest assured that I’ll personally see to your tombstone.” He cocked the hammer of the gun. “‘Here lies Officer McAndrews! Wasted potential! A crossbreed discarded by her own father! Unloved! Unwanted!” He scoffed, leveling the gun to aim for her heart. “Unneeded.’”

A voice in the back of her head shrieked; MOVE.

Time slowed to a screeching halt.

There was an earth-shattering bang from the pistol. Donnie screamed.

Silence crept throughout the warehouse for eternity.

Bishop’s eyes were popping out of his head, jaw slack, his body rigid where he stood. Unable to scream from the shock of what had just transpired…

Because despite having been shot in the torso, Katie was clinging to him, digging one of Raph’s sai deep into the fragile tissue and muscle of his throat, blood spilling across his suit and her chest.

There was a savagery in her facial expression, canines bared like a lion, a madness in her eyes that blazed hotter than the sun itself. Against all the agony running through her broken body she lifted her other arm to properly grip the sai in both hands, shoving it farther into his throat to sever the windpipe. He choked, trying to push her away but finding himself trapped by her deathlike hold.

“You… won’t…” she slurred, twisting the sword breaker in her fists. “Touch… my… boys!”

She ripped it free. A waterfall of crimson gushed from the fatal injury, the agent coughing and gagging, clutching at his throat as though it would staunch the blood flow. His wild, manic eyes fell upon her, disdain in his snarl as he reached towards her, slipping to his knees until he ultimately collapsed to land on his back.

Katie wasted no time; adrenaline this rampant wouldn’t last long in her condition. She grabbed the garbage bag, stumbling towards Traximus, who was staring up at her with disbelief. Using the blood-soaked sai she snagged the electric cord under its prongs and broke his bonds free.

“Go…” she wheezed, the sai slipping out of her fingers, clattering uselessly at their feet. “Th’ kids…” she buckled dangerously to the side, eyelids fluttering as her feet fell from under her.

“NO!” Traximus caught her before she could slam into the concrete, her body too heavy in his arms as she continued to bleed. “Steady, Kathrine! You must hold on!”

“My boys…” she breathed, airy in tone as she fought the temptation to fall asleep. “Get… m’ boys…”

Traximus looked as though he wanted to protest, but one cautionary glance cast towards the bullet wound and he softened significantly. “… I shall have them free in moments.” He settled her against a small wooden crate, tender in his mannerisms to ease her pain. Then he was gone from her field of view, dashing to the pulley.

From there, a dull buzz filled her hearing. Katie’s body felt… strange. It was heavy, stiff, unwilling to respond. Weighed down by tremendous amounts of pressure leaning into her chest, feeling the sticky blood racing along the curves of her arm, her stomach, her gaping bullet wound. She was also unnaturally tired; sluggishness ebbed away at her senses, as if water was rushing in her ears to drown out all noise surrounding the immediate area.

As though the tidal wave of a grand tsunami has taken hold of her, gradually the world began to ripple into a series of black and white dots that spun around her vision, draining everything of it’s natural colors only to leave it in bland dreariness of monotone gray. Was death this calm? Was it always so bleak? So unsettling?

Katie’s heart was still pulsing to deliver blood to her organs, slower in rhythm, the body shutting down. What good would it do to a woman on death’s door?

Suddenly hands were on her arm, pulling, pleading, imploring. Her emerald orbs fell upon the bulbous eyes of Mondo, newly freed but opening sobbing. Bold, vivid eyes stood out in her world like a lighthouse trapped in a hurricane. Behind him limped Raph, whose biceps and wrists were scarlet and slightly bloody, vibrant in the gray background. He’d fought like a madman. There was a genuine horror that painted his brown irises…

“MOM!” Mondo wept, clutching her arm with all the strength he could muster as if willing her to stand. “MOM! Please, get up! Get up!”

“M’jo…” words were mumbled under her breath, too soft for anyone to catch.

Suddenly blue and purple came into the mix— Donnie’s face turned sickly, his mouth drawing shut, looking faint. Leo wasn’t faring much better, eyes pinned to the detective with a horrified expression; his hand was gripping a particularly gnarly gash on his shoulder she hadn’t spotted. Traximus was back, kneeling at her side. Now her field of vision became filled with orange and yellow and black, voices clamoring for dominance in her ears.

“— go to a hospital!”

“She doesn’t have that chance, her ribs—!”

“Mom please don’t die please please please I don’t wanna lose you—“

“What’re we gonna do?!”

“Do we have any backup spots?!”

“Kathrine stay with us!”

It became too much to listen to, eyes flickering between the young faces of her boys to Trax. I love you guys, she wanted to say. Don’t worry about me. Take care of each other.

A figure moved in the background. Behind Leo and Donnie, far in the dark where she’d shanked the fucker, Katie’s gaze caught onto the lumbering form of—

Her voice cracked, blood gurgling in her mouth as a strangled shout crawled its way out of her. “NO…!”

All five heads snapped up at her urgent tone. Slowly turning their eyes towards the source of her alarm, everyone present was left speechless as their hunter staggered into frame… alive.

Bishop was holding his throat, blood gushing through clenched fingers, huffing and puffing, sweat sticking to his brow. His teeth were bared, looking monstrous. Appearing as if he’d come right out of a slasher film, the sociopath stood with hatred in his eyes as he crooned in a voice not his own, “You… fucking… bitch…!”

Raph seized his sai, clutching them tight as he attempted to take up a fighter’s stance. Donnie dropped to his knees, too terrified to move. Mondo clung to Katie like a lifeline, the woman weakly draping her arm around his back to bring him close to shield him. Traximus became something of a hulking barrier, standing in front of the children and fallen woman with determination.

“You… all…” Bishop removed his hand from his throat, exposing a grizzly stab wound that was somehow stitching itself back together. Muscle, veins, skin started to form around the area where he’d been impaled as though nothing had occurred. “I’m going… to rip… each and every one of you to pieces…!”

The ramping tension finally shattered. At his breaking point, grabbing his ōdachi in a fit of desperation, Leonardo screamed at the top of his lungs with a voice that was heavy with despair. The boy had an ironclad hold of his sword, charging forward, ignoring the startled cries of his friends and wounded caretaker. Bishop smirked, crouching as if to pounce.

But Leo swung his sword. An electric blue magic fizzled in the air. It crackled like thunder ripping across a stormy sky as a vividly bright portal separated Bishop from the group.

Leo looked back towards the others and cried out. “GO!”

Nobody waited a second further.

Traximus gathered Katie into his arms and dashed for the portal, Mondo sprinting right behind him. Donnie seized the garbage bag filled with their weapons and made a break for it. Raph took the rear to protect the younger of the group. The red eared slider glared at the agent with a curdling fury, the sword in his hand twitching with potent energy that sparked at his fingertips. No words were spoken, but the defiant sneer on his face spoke for him; Don’t ever let me see you again.

It wasn’t until everyone was through that Leo himself fell into the exit, the madman’s scream of outrage following them as it faded without a trace.

I really hope you like this!! 🥹

@queen-with-the-quill @tending-the-hearth @lameboobah

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rotakn · 1 month

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It's a Tuesday morning and Jesus has come again.

You hear he's at the stadium downtown and he's healing those who ail. You have a child in need, whose insurance isn't covering it, so you plan to go. You're worried about traffic and parking, so instead you're going to take the train. You get to the Trax station and it's crowded, it's hard to even get onto the station, let alone the train. Trains keep going and you keep getting closer and finally after an hour then you manage to get onto one. You thought the station was crowded but it has nothing on the train itself. It's claustrophobic to the point of a crushing hazard, and you worry that people have actually died from this, but you haven't heard anything. You arrive at the stadium and there's people as far as the eye can see in all directions, walking, driving, arriving like you. You can see people setting up stands with Jesus merchandise. Offering bibles and crosses and temporary tattoos with "the Lord is risen". You even see one guy with a frock offering last minute baptism sign ups. You spend days waiting to get to see him. There's not much of a line, more just a sometimes moving inward crush to the bottom of the stadium. You worry about getting food or water while waiting but people are passing some water with bread and fish. It's not much, but it'll do. You finally get to see him, and he smiles at you. You feel a strange sensation of happiness and that sniffle that's been coming in is gone and your child is better. You thank him and he nods and you move out of the way. You are on your way out, and while it isn't as hard going as coming in, it's still very difficult work. It's a fast throughput so you try and stay in the outgoing streams and eventually get out. You go to the station to take the train home. It's still very crowded and you worry once again whether anyone has been crushed during all this. You arrive home and settle down. It's been a week and change and your house is a bit of a mess. You decide you'll clean it after a quick rest and break. You work tomorrow, so after you're done cleaning you head to bed. You show up at work and your boss asks to talk to you. You go to their office and they say hey, you don't have a job here anymore. You ask why and they say that you didn't show up to work for more than an entire week. You say but Jesus came again. They tell you that per their company policy more than 3 days of absence without explanation is considered a resignation. You're not sure what to say. They ask you to take your things and go home. You ask them if you can list them as a reference. They smile sadly and say of course you can. You go home and hug your kid. You go watch some TV to take your mind off things. You turn to the news and wonder if they'll mention whether or not anyone was crushed trying to see Jesus.

#poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #original poem #original poetry #spilled ink

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greenghostlyjekyll · 8 months

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My Gifset/Stimboard Links

Categories: Starlight Express, SCP, Misc. Fandom (Scary Godmother), and Personal

Starlight Express

Ashley & Buffy

(OC) BB the Bay Window Caboose (One) (Two)

Belle the Bar Car

Belle the Sleeping Car

(OC) Bobbie the Bobber Caboose

Bochum 2015 : Light At The End Of The Tunnel

Buffy the Buffet Car

CB the Red Caboose --- CB the Red Caboose (post 2018) --- CB Harlequin AU

CB & Electra

CB & Rusty

The Coaches

(OC) Dee the Drovers Caboose

Dinah the Dining Car --- Dinah's Disco

Dinah ♡ Greaseball

Dinah & Pearl

Duvay the Sleeping Car

Electra the Electric Engine --- Electra the Electric Engine (post 2018)

Electra VS Greaseball

(OC) EV the Extended-Vision Caboose

Flat-top the Brick Truck

The Freight Cars

Greaseball the Diesel Engine

The Hip Hoppers

(OC) Hive the Decommission Engine

Hotel Buenaventura : AC/DC --- Crazy --- He Whistled At Me --- Lotta Locomotion --- U.N.C.O.U.P.L.E.D

Jim'll Fix It Clip

Joule the Dynamite Truck --- The Animal Truck

Krupp the Armaments Truck --- London 1997

(OC) Mal the Sleeping Car

"Ouch" (One) (Two)

Pearl the Observation Car --- Pearl the First Class Carriage (post 2018) --- Pearl: On Ice (One) (Two) --- Pearl Harlequin AU

Pearl ♡ Rusty

Poppa McCoy the Retired Champion

Purse the Money Truck

The Rockies

Rusty the Steam Engine --- Rusty (Ray Shell) --- Rusty Harlequin AU --- Rusty Starshine AU

(OC) Starburner the Champion Racer

(OC) Supernova the Diplomatic Envoy

"Tonight Is Race Night!"

(OC) Tracy the Transfer Caboose

"The Trains Be Fighting"

Trax aka the Track Marshals

US Tour : One Rock and Roll Too Many --- 2003 : Freight is Great

Volta the Freezer Truck

(OC) Windy the Bay Window Caboose

Wrench the Repair Truck

SCP

SCP-052 Time-Traveling Train

The Black Lord --- Lord Nigredo, Before --- Lord Nigredo, After

The White Lord --- Lord Albedo, Before --- Lord Albedo, After

The Yellow Lord --- Lord Citrinitas, Before --- Lord Citrinitas, After

The Red Lord --- Lord Rubedo, Before --- Lord Rubedo, After

Misc. Fandom

Scary Godmother

Personal

The Green Ghostly Jekyll

Sprite Shenanigans

My Pet Hermit Crabs

#stimboard #gifset #starlight express #scp #fandom #greenghostlyjekyll #masterlist

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randomvarious · 4 months

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Today's compilation:

Animal Liberation 1987 Industrial / Post-Punk / Synthpop / New Wave

God, this thing is just so fucking on-brand for PETA, folks. Back in 1987, the oft-ridiculed animal rights activist org teamed up with Chicago heavyweight indie label Wax Trax! Records in order to release this benefit comp that saw its royalties go straight into PETA's own coffers. And, as you might expect, like clockwork, it was made up almost entirely of pure, unadulterated cringe 🥴.

Now, to be perfectly clear, I'm definitely not here to evaluate or criticize the merits of animal liberation as an ideology itself in this post, but people have to understand that if you're trying to convert others to your own way of thinking, you're not likely to get through to them with ridiculously over-the-top, preachy propaganda that, in true PETA fashion, will leave your target scratching their head and wondering if all of this is actually just some elaborate ruse or a silly bit. What I think would've been a far more effective tack to take during this era that saw the concept of the benefit comp really flourish would've been to include maybe a song or two about animal rights, and then have the rest of the comp filled out with a bunch of other non-topical goodies.

But obviously, PETA and Wax Trax! didn't end up doing that here. What they chose to do instead was load up this album with almost nothing but ridiculous songs about animal rights and animal liberation; songs that certainly reflect Wax Trax!'s own love of self-aware irony and detachment as a bastion of the intersection between industrial, synthpop and punk and post-punk music, but are not likely to translate into swaying anyone to alter their own consumer habits in order to help lessen the plight of animals themselves. It really feels like just about everyone on here knows that what they're doing is already too on the nose to be taken seriously, and so they're just deciding to act accordingly. Like, if you were to make fun of animal rights activists through the art of musical comedy, you would probably just release this album pretty much as it already is.

The only track on here that would've kept you from using this CD as a coaster is the final one, "Assault & Battery," by Howard Jones, who wasn't even ever a Wax Trax! artist in the first place! This song, like the rest of them, is about animal rights too, but it's a bit more poetic and compelling in how it deals with the subject, rather than the vast majority of this slate, which takes the route of being very lyrically dogmatic and deliberately straight-forward to the point of being exasperatingly eyeroll-inducing 🙄. But with "Assault & Battery," a song that had previously appeared on Jones' 1985 album, Dream Into Action, he pairs his trained piano background with some synthpop and ends up delivering what is, by far, the most captivating and enjoyable song on this album.

So, an exceedingly bad and torturous release that seems par for the course when it comes to PETA's history of overly lame attempts at being provocative rather than actually being thought-provoking, but there is still one very good tune on here; it's just that Wax Trax! had to go outside of their own catalogue in order to obtain it 😆.

Highlights:

Howard Jones - "Assault & Battery"

#industrial #synthpop #synth pop #post punk #new wave #electronic #electronic music #music #80s #80s music #80's #80's music

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oc-poll-times · 1 year

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FINALS - KISARAGI VS. FINCH

KISARAGI

Kisaragi: The conductor of the Ghost Train, an ever-mobile public commuter train designed to transport ghosts that would ordinarily be stuck within the boundaries of their domains. Takes their job VERY seriously. Works with their brother, Trax, to keep the train and the passengers safe. Will borrow Trax's power to forcefully evict anyone deemed to be a danger. They can take on a more monstrous form when doing so, given all of the abilities of a Guardian Spirit. They hardly ever do this, though. It's much easier to just talk :)

This character's main theme is by Splendiferachie

FINCH

Finch: A ghost that was never meant to exist, but tries their best to not be a nuisance while trying to form a sense of identity for themself. They don't have the first clue how being a ghost is supposed to work, which makes communication difficult. They are often shunned from the rest of the neighborhood by the ghosts who believe they don't belong, but they try their best to improve and become friends with everyone. It doesn't help their identity to be rejected, though, and they run the risk of disappearing forever if they cannot find a way to accept themself. Is kind, helpful, friendly, and would do anything to protect the ones they love. Even if they have to protect them from themself.

This character's main theme is Out Of Sight Out Of Mind by Crusher-P

#poll #death match #finch #kisaragi #whisper court #IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

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aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman · 2 years

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I dunno how normal people put in earphones and walk around in public like that.

Firstly I am so clumsy that my phone falls out of my purse, my earphones get tangled in my hair and I have sensory disorientation walking around in noisy cities with extra sound in my ears. But also the songs themselves give me a mental breakdown and make me want to cry in public.

I’m taking the bus rn and listening to Sunday Morning Coming Down by Johnny Cash and crying inside for this alcoholic old man country song. Or I’ll listen to romantic idealist Bollywood music and want to collapse on the train trax bc I miss my bf who’s in a diff country.

And then there’s metal music which makes me feel like a serial killer lmao. Like Peter Steele screaming “I’ll fucking kill you” in my ears while I’m sitting next to an old grandma on transit is a lot. It’s just like I’m a primitive cavewoman who’s asperged and can’t handle the modern newfangled invention of private sound I’m confused by technology

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goblinlovesmusicals · 1 year

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Goblin's StEx ocs!

Jay the ore jenny:

My self insert! A genderfluid Ore Jenny who hangs around Flat-Top and Dustin. ADHD in full swing, loves to talk and flap their hands. Gets crushes on a lot of men- They're a bit small for a freight truck and wear goggles due to poor eyesight. Just an excitable lad.

Striker the diesel engine:

A diesel who was born with no wheels and weak legs, needs crutches to walk around. He lives in a yard in Tennessee, married to Trax, the adoptive Dad of Greaseball. A bit of an older guy, the true Dilf. Very caring and kind, but will also wack you if you do something dumb.

Laddie the kiddy train:

The engine of a kiddy train in an abandoned zoo. None of his coaches are sentient, the only reason he's sentient is because he has a small motor. Has heelys instead of skates, uses a bell rather than a horn or whistle. He tries to be optimistic but it's really hard when nobody has visited him in ten years and they took all the animals...

The Pipes/Smokebox the steamer:

A Steam Train who's boiler burst, was left wandering the woods blind, mute, and half deaf because the pipes and the explosion just wrecked him. He's mainly seen as an urban legend that's told to trainlets to dissuade them from leaving the yard, but he's very much real. He wants to find someone to fix him, but everyone runs away when he's near.

Snowy the snow plow:

A huge snow plow that reverse hibernates (sleeps all year until snow falls). Very no nonsense and rough, though also motherly, the perfect blend for an old lady. Has ice skates instead of normal skates and carries a big snow shovel around. Poppa/Momma's sister, they argue a lot though. Famous for having all the muscle and a big chest, ultimate milf. Married to Firebox, he's her malewife, and the mother of Hotspur and Coldsnap.

Firebox the Steamer:

A small steam train who likes to joke and goof off. Mans honestly has like no life outside of his wife and kids- He absolutely adores his giant wife and would worship her if she asked (she does). He spends most days with their sons, mothering them-

Hostpur the Diesel:

The literal embodiment of a puppy. He's Goofy, excitable, and honestly not that smart. Even so, he is lovable and loyal, he has a lot of friends. He was born a steamer, but was converted into Diesel when he grew up. He is a hopeless romantic and has a crush on a Sleeping Car named Virgil.

Coldsnap the Snow Plow:

Basically the opposite of his brother. Small, quiet, and thinks before he does things. He's his Mama's Apprentice, and takes his future role very seriously. When he isn't hibernating, he's trying to keep up with Snowy while simultaneously keeping Hotspur from playfully tackling him.

Gio the electric engine:

A young electric engine who failed as a racer. Gio was conceived in a test tube...but failed to impress his creators. He's a massive nerd and likes to play Sonic. He has a hard time grasping his electricity, often flaring and causing power outages. He has headgear that he has to wear most times, and he's green, so most don't think he's very attractive.

IQ the bay window caboose:

He grew up in a small flock of cabeese that had evolved to not have a voicebox. Eventually, growing tired of the silence, IQ fixed himself and learned to speak. He was kicked out of the flock, but he's fine by his own. He likes to sing terribly and play the accordion.

Nolan the Irish engine:

Hailing from Ireland, Nolan looks like a model engine: strong, handsome, a pretty coach by his side...but he's really unhappy. He's had to stifle his identity and personality in order to appease his yard. Cricket is in the process of breaking him out of all this,

Cricket the Australian engine:

From Australia, Cricket is just a happy guy. He likes wearing dad shirts and going to carnivals. Lately, he's been focusing all this optimism on helping Nolan with his trauma.

Toolbox the Therapy Truck:

Born a repair truck, Toolbox realized he wasn't all that inclined to help with actual repairing and welding and all that stuff. He settled for being Apollo Victoria's one and only therapist, much to the chagrin of his twin, Sprocket.

Sprocket the Repair Truck:

This guy is one word: Grumpy. He takes his job extremely seriously, which makes him a bit less sympathetic to certain things. Even so, this guy is basically like a toasted marshmallow: you gotta get past all the burnt parts to get to the soft middle. He's a secret romantic with a long distance partner, also likes romance novels and bubble baths with champagne.

Chug the Rescued Engine:

Once upon a time, authorities investigated a facility that bred trains and said authorities saw a million violations and shut the facility down. Out of that facility came Chug, traumatized and missing his babies. These days, he's doing a lot better. He lives with Toolbox and their dozen foster kids.

Tally the Ticketmaster:

Not a train, but a ticket machine. Tally sells tickets to human passengers, but he wants more in life. His feet are bolted to the ground, and he desperately wants to leave his post and have fun.

Bernadette the Business Class Car:

An older coach that is a reference/agent for most great racers. She raced with dozens of champions when she was younger and understands all there is about racing now. She has a new york accent, a big tooth gap, a 60s pin curl hairstyle, and loves to smoke and wear a lot of red lipstick.

#starlight express #stex ocs #original characters

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punk-chicken-radio · 5 months

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ax trax of the week

youtube

siouxsie and the banshees - i'l est né divin enfant

i will never not love this train wreck of a video 🖤

-ax

#ax trax of the week #siouxsie and the banshees #robert smith #i'l est né divin enfant #Youtube

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marastriker · 1 year

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notes from last week's stex watchings 👀

Wednesday, March 8th Coco shoves Dinah during the argument between the engines and the coaches Dinah playfully slaps Pearl's butt at the beginning of Ich Bin Ich The coaches have glittery parts of their costumes! Dinah and Pearl have sparkly fabric for the straps under their knee pads Terence Caboose is REALLY REALLY amazing with his acting choices In Freight, Rusty loses control of both coaches and freight and looks very panicked Terence flips his hat back onto his head so smoothly 10/10 When coupling up for the first race, Turnov points to BV and makes a motion as if to say hurry up! Then takes off so quickly that Bee has trouble grabbing his couplers Alexandra covered Volta and gave some cool female Volta vibes Gary was very very Purse-like with his performance during Pearl Welche Ehre - but did some signature Krupp spins in AC/DC! A nice balance of the two! When the other components join Pumping Iron, KW freaks out because Elektra is FUSSY Flat Top is trying to imitate the Rockies' dance moves during Momma's Blues and fails so badly Belle throws up at the end of heat 2 - no drinking and racing kids KW freaks out again when Pearl leaves Elektra for Greaseball - he is so anxious about his job, poor Watt Terence sang the 2nd verse of Mein Spiel first, by accident but he saved it well! TerryBee did fun CB move Overall such INCREDIBLE acting, amazing Mein Spiel When Dinah disconnects Elektra, he's freaking out - but Bee is already there and Elektra kinda just….sighs okay fine can you help me Bee: >:D One rock and roll too many…. Idiot sandwich <3 Coco cocks her shoulder box when telling off Pearl before Für Immer When everyone comes back out onstage post love-song, GB is going after Elektra but Elektra SHOVES him away. BV laughs, Elektra holds up a finger to him as if to say: "shut up. You caused this."

Thursday, March 9th Trax bapped Carrie on the back of the head during bye bye Rusty During the argument, Ruhr seems to just be playfully playing along, but he has a kind smile and tips his hat to Carrie Beginning of Ich Bin Ich - Turnov offers Espresso a shot of vodka and Espresso does NOT like it Manga and Ruhr also sharing a snack. Manga offers Ruhr an alcoholic drink as well, maybe sake Belle has two barrettes in her hair, one is shaped like bottle openers and the other is shaped like bottle caps Beginning of Freight, Flat Top squares up to Dinah and she snaps his suspenders Rockies imitate Bee's "fake news" gesture - Rocky 2 gets it wrong and Rocky 1 shows him, "no, he does it like this" When the trains malfunction as a result of Elektra's presence, Bee does a silly little robot dance Dinah and BV talking/gossiping at the beginning of AC/DC No Pyro at beginning of Pumping Iron Jae Volta squatted like a hoe in pumping iron actually jae volta was slutty all week Ida Brexit is a grandpa and I love him. Hi peepaw Turnov makes a "chop chop" motion to Bee to couple him for heat 1 KW shows Rusty away to talk to Pearl Pearl looks sad to leave Rusty and go with Elektra Each BV actor has a "thing" they do when Greaseball yells CABOOSE during the races - Terence looks back and then nods GB pushes BV into Wrench so he can disconnect her and take Manga Flats is straight up grooving during Momma's Blues When FT takes a selfie of him and Momma, he looks at the pic and then looks back at her like "damn you don't look so good" and she gets upset and shoos him off OIL OIL OIL - Delano puffs out his cheeks and looks so stinky Rusty: Pearl won't race with me :( Rockies: tease him by fake crying Flats gets so STOMPY BV eavesdropping on Rusty and Momma's convo during Bummelok - also his scarf was backwards Momma looks so taken aback by GB and Elektra like "these youngins……" When Greaseball tells Dinah to shut up in the rap, the gang is like OOOOOOOOO and she looks ready to fight them Another incredible Mein Spiel performance Bee mockingly waves goodbye to Pearl after he crashes Rusty Rusty literally crying before the Starlight sequence :( Dinah disconnects the components because she angy

Friday, March 10th Technical difficulties with the door where the nationals enter! it got fixed fairly quickly <3 naruto run in rolling stock my beloved Ida brexit walk like afraid of cockroach Luuk Espresso sounds so italian even when singing in german GB pokes and prods Pearl when he brings her in He plays with her ponytail, she is not amused I LOVE MEZZO PEARL (Dieuwke) Kai Bee tips his hat to Carrie <3 For some reason, Elektra's gear lights weren't working until Race 1 today Ryan can play Espresso and Turnov, and THAT is what i call great vocal range Rocky 2 was ready to throw hands with Rusty for insulting Momma! Dustin flinched when Momma yelled NEINA Dustin waves shyly behind Momma during the race 2 introduction Espresso grabs Carrie's skirt tassels instead of her couplers and pats her ass RuhrCarrie moments! He spun her around Both Elektra and BV injure Pearl in the final race - Elektra electrocutes her and BV baps her at some point Saturday, March 11th and Sunday, March 12th Cole Greaseball has such power behind his voice! Incredible acting choices! GB didn't fade into the background this time, I genuinely enjoyed Cole so much more! Brexit/Turnov disappear sometime between taunting Rusty and the beginning of Ich Bin Ich due to split track Rocky 3 and Flat Top The other coaches are a little miffed that Rusty interrupted her but Carrie shrugs and is like oh okay :) Since Turnov is not available for Pumping Iron due to a split track, they replace him with TerryBee and he dances with Carrie! The coaches all take shots at the beginning of coda of freight to prepare for the race super quick change from Flat Top to Turnov for Race 1! Even if turnov is not there when they are all coupling up for race one, Bee and GB still have a moment where they establish they have a deal and I like that detail KW scans Pearl's face during the beginning of Pumping Iron (Elektra maybe already made it clear that he wanted her as a race partner?) Flat Top shows up halfway into Momma's blues due to split track Momma and R2 have a little fistbump after saying rusty is blind Rocky3 raising her hand like MEEE after Momma asks for Rocky to race with her. the other two scold her Carrie looks so excited to win the second heat with Ruhr! Delano Rusty is so ready to square up with Greaseball after race 3 Delano is the only one who acts properly injured after the crash/gang beat up, chugging back before right place right time I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW THE LIFT WORKS. there is indeed a back portion that supports Rusty by the waist as he's lifted into the air Carrie waves to Bee before the final race and BrandiBelle chastises her Cole GB acts like a ballerina in one rock and roll and it's hilarious Rocky 3 is the one who disconnects Bee, Elektra, and GB from the train before the final scene! Brandi and Bee share a drink before Light at the End of the Tunnel

#starlight express #march bochum trip 2022 #mara's stex thoughts

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richhotcool · 9 months

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Okay little source memory basic info time I think

Words are hard bare with me here

In terms of how tall I was I was incredibly tall…about forty feet, though I am still shorter than those like Goldenspike and the other centennial engines. So given that I may actually be closer to 35-37 feet tall. Counting my hair.

My experiences weren’t exactly like the musical either. Generally the championship was similar but I lived in a whole other yard up until then…with the components and other engines, electrics, diesels, and freight. I was relocated to the yard the championship took place after the crash. I was heavily damaged too, a trek like that to go home was not in my favor anyway. And for many reasons I was alright with not going back. I had the components with me and those were the ones I cared for most. I wouldn’t have lost them since they were with me. And…speaking of them. I had all six: Krupp, Purse, Volta, Joule, Wrench, and Killerwatt. And a useless piece of information is that Wrench had blades like the Trax do, the rest of us had the usual skates.

We were actual trains too…more like AI. Like Greaseball, Rail Jack, and Goldenspike. (I am not from their source to be clear)

In terms of jobs, I was a racer primarily. I also transported heavily important equipment over long distances as well…I do not know the right term for that. After the crash I couldn’t do that anymore, sadly. I can do short distances post-crash, though. Long treks require many breaks, however. And I need Wrench with me especially during those treks.

#Source memories #starlight express

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gaystation4 · 9 months

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Once a valiant and courageous summoner on a journey to save the world of Spira, Yuna had finally found herself in a new chapter of life. In a twist of fate, she embarked on a different path altogether, one that led her straight into the mesmerizing world of music and stardom. Yuna decided to pursue her dreams of becoming an idol, and her talent caught the attention of none other than the prestigious Avex Trax, a renowned entertainment agency.

She eagerly signed a contract to become an idol under Avex Trax, unknowingly binding herself to a slave contract. Filled with optimism and determination, Yuna was initially unaware of the dark side of the music industry she had just entered. As her popularity soared, her involvement in her own career decisions began to dwindle. Yuna started to realize the harsh reality of her slave contract when her freedom was restricted and her every move was controlled by her management.

Despite the overwhelming challenges, Yuna's spirit remained unbroken. She harnessed her determination, resilience, and the EXP gained during her previous quest to find a way out of this predicament. Inspired by her late lover, Tidus, she found solace in her memories and summoned the strength to confront her circumstances head-on.

Yuna dedicated countless hours to honing her talent, attending rigorous training sessions, rehearsing tirelessly, and performing at various gigs around the world. Her journey was a rollercoaster of real emotions, but through it all, she never lost sight of her ultimate goal. She yearned to reclaim her freedom and regain control over her own destiny.

Finally, after months of hard work and perseverance, Yuna received her first substantial paycheck from Avex Trax. As she held the check in her hands, her heart filled with gratitude and satisfaction. It was time to celebrate her first step towards financial independence.

Eager to treat herself, Yuna embarked on a mission to acquire the latest gaming console, the "Gaystation 4," as it was affectionately referred to by gamers within her circle. Its arrival was highly anticipated, and Yuna saw this opportunity as the perfect chance to reward herself for her resilience and unwavering spirit.

With her earnings in hand, Yuna rushed to her local electronics store, excitement coursing through her veins. She carefully selected the highly coveted gaming console, feeling a sense of liberation and joy as she made the purchase. It was not just a console; it signified her triumph over adversity, a symbol of her perseverance and her ability to overcome any obstacle.

As Yuna arrived home, she carefully unboxed her newly acquired "Gaystation 4", eagerly connecting it to her television. With a sense of exhilaration, she logged into the virtual world, ready to embrace a different kind of adventure.

Though her path to stardom remained uncertain, Yuna had proven to herself that her dreams were worth fighting for. And as she fought battles in the virtual world of her console, she also vowed to never stop fighting for her own freedom, always staying true to herself, and never allowing anyone to hold her back.

do not quote the scripture to me chatbot i was there when it was written

#yuna #ffx #final fantasy x #final faggotry #answered #anonymous #my posts

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omegaplus · 2 years

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# 4,174

Cold Waves @ Warsaw; September 15 & 16, 2022.

If I told you that I was feeling shaky going into attending Cold Waves, you’d write me off instantly. Why would I still feel nervous about attending shows? Sure, the event is everything, but every trip to grandiose New York City is still a major thing for me. It’s still feels like uncharted territory and I’m still not over it but it has everything Long Island fails to provide: the venues, the people, the exciting energy, and an allure I still can’t put my finger on. It’s all for the taking, whereas on Long Island I had way more than enough. Also: anxiety. (Film at 5.)

I was only mere days away and I had to get ready for two straight nights of taking trains to and from Brooklyn. Cold Waves would be the third show I’d attend this year - fourth if I cared going to Ministry’s “Industrial” Strength tour which I didn’t go to. I was a frantic wreck anticipating this industrial legends / synthwave festival. The tremors in my black heart would stop only if I finally arrived at Warsaw. It’s my third visit there. The first was for Hospital Productions’ 20th Anniversary and the second was for Black Marble and Cold Cave on a hot June day - before my world, my momentum, and soul were all upended.

I don my black cap, a Clock DVA shirt, blue jeans, black boots and new black leather jacket. It’s sunny out, a hazy blue sky is being invaded by cumuluses all over the place - perfect conditions for an afternoon drive westward on the Long Island Expressway, down on Sagtikos Parkway, through Southern State to Rt. 231, and heading south to Rt. 27A to the Babylon station. I took no chances catching the earlier one-hour train to Penn Station, then hopped on the ‘E’ line to Court Square’s ‘G’ line to Greenpoint Ave. The train ride was bliss as hardly anyone was on it.

It was 6:15 PM when I stepped off the G and went upstairs to Greenpoint, my favorite Brooklyn neighborhood. It only took me 15 minutes to walk a few blocks down to Driggs Av. in Kings County’s Polish neighborhood. It’s only 6:30 PM and already I’m being greeted by a crowd of three at the very front of the line. One of them saw my DVA shirt and gave me two thumbs up. “Great shit, man!”, he said. I smiled and my heart rate went up 20.00% knowing I made the right choice of t-shirt for night #1 of Cold Waves. I found myself standing at the exact same spot on line more than four years ago when I waited to enter the venue for Cold Cave and Black Marble. It was that very corner where Wes Eisold stood with Genesis P. Orridge before that show. Doors open at 7 PM as all of us trudge towards the venue for our security checks before entering paradise where I’m immediately hit with the smell of incense, a special smell distinct to my Brooklyn travels and nowhere else.

The music existed before the beginning of time and it was pumping. No wonder - DJ Andi (Harriman) was behind the wheels of steel. She’s a fixture of the neighborhood where she fit perfectly with the industrialists and synth-wave demographic that populate there. With me being 15th in line, I won a spot up front. As always without fail. I was feeling great about what was about to go down for the next five hours. The first person I thought of was my Roman goth friend Lira* who I wished was there with me. She would’ve blended in with all these vampires, witches, and mistresses attending; many walking around wearing 242, Wax Trax, Pig, Pigface, Hocico, and Twin Tribes shirts.

7:45PM is here. The dee-jay fades out, the overheads turn off and the first act is ready to go. Cold Waves is finally underway.

Spike Hellis was the first of ten on the roster and kicked off the entire festival. The fresh Los Angeles duo have enjoyed a new sizable uptick of exposure. They were active and had lots of energy on stage; a theme that they’d set the tone for the entire program. Their fast-paced EBM, electro, and electronic hybrid was a fine example of the current sound that Los Angeles had to offer. Both Cortland Gibson and Elaine Chang traded instrumental and (screaming) vocal duties with each other while conveying themes of agony, control, rage, emotional despair, and submission that rubber-stamped their own pandemic-era, all accentuated at the end with an annoyed Chang dealing the finger to an audience member as the cherry on top. Who knows what happened there? What I do know was that someone threw an empty beer can at them during their set and security called him out on it; eyes and pointy fingers in his direction with a one-and-final warning not to do it again.

For those wondering why Rein is being highly praised all over, you’ll see why. One of two solo acts, Rein wasted no time taking the stage and it wasn’t long for her to show everyone why she’s one of the most talked-about synthwave acts of recent. It’s not just her razor-sharp EBM delivery and style but also her choreography which made her perfectly groove to the music. She can seriously move it like no other and also delivered plenty of hard-edged sounds of equal measure. It was more than enough to ask who the fuck Shakira was, because she’s got nothing on her. It wasn’t just Rein who was motioning to the music. I look to my right and seen a good number of people getting into it, too; such as the guy three spaces away from me who happened to be wearing a gas mask through her set. After she closed out her set came another intermission. The next three legendary acts have yet to come into play and right behind me are three belligerent drunks (one male and two females) fighting over who bumped into who, not saying ‘excuse me’, who stood where, and lots of name-calling and f-bombs lobbed at each other’s slovenly faces. Not a dull moment so far.

Portion Control was the third and most enduring act of the festival with their debut cassette release A Fair Potion dating all the way back to 1980. I’ve constantly heard of them through new-wave, industrial, and synthwave circles. It’s my first go at them and Wow. They. Nailed. It. They became one of the very few artists I ever discovered to give me a perfect example of everything I was looking for on the very first listen. Perhaps the hungriest, meanest, and venomous act I discovered live or not. I may have caught them at their best ever and it lead me to the three Seed e.p.’s. Onstage, Dean Piavanni was a vocally sinister, persuasive, and direct force who could’ve easily taken on the audience (and would’ve won); as Jon Whybrew was on the controls transmitting ultra-energetic and juiced-up EBM and industrial techno for the small masses. It was the most exciting payout of the night so far.

If there was ‘the’ reason that attending Cold Waves was an absolute must, it was the team of former Wax Trax and Ministry members Paul Barker and Chris Connelly. They are part of the reason why everyone had some of the best moments of their lives and made for some of the greatest industrial releases ever. Billed as The Revolting Cocks Corpse and in conflict with Al Jourgensen’s version of the band, it would be their last-ever appearance. I hate to admit, a scratch off the bucket list was long overdue and years in waiting. Now, here was my chance of seeing both of them live in one shot.

Want real-deal Cocks classics? You got ‘em. Paul Barker handled his iconic bass logo-ed with the Cocks’ Beers, Steers & Queers emblem on it before kicking off with “38” and brought out former Cock (Front 242’s) Richard 23 on vocals. After that comes Connelly onstage in casual wear in a trucker hat, jeans, and a shirt that’s scrawled “Strong And Pretty” on the front, so we’re getting the nutty version of him. Then the rest of the hits came rolling in: “Attack Ships On Fire”, “Cattle Grind”, “Crackin’ Up”. When Connelly asked himself out loud what else to play, the audience yelled “Let’s Get Physical” (rest in peace, Olivia Newton John). “Well, I didn’t ask for your help!” he said coyly to all of us and we couldn’t help but to laugh. They did cap off their monumental set with “Do Ya’ Think I’m Sexy” and it felt like a dream. Connelly leans on the speakers acting all cute and blowing kisses to the crowd with a smile. Before you know it, he’s laying on the floor with arms wide open like he’s just fallen in love as Barker and company call it a night. Nothing but good times and an ultimate culmination of their Wax Trax output as I hoped for.

Finally, it was Front 242’s turn to take the stage; the apex of an already high-flying night. It would be a bittersweet performance at that as this was one of many shows on what was their final U.S. tour. Many fans thought it was because of Jean-Luc De Meyer health issues but thankfully that wasn’t the case. No matter, it was everyone’s last chance in the states to catch them before leaving North America once and for all with no turning back. I considered Front 242 to be a bonus for me as I was heavily into their pioneering Eighties material during my community college years, their later albums, and C-Tec which De Meyer took part in. I had absolutely nothing to lose seeing them live. All throughout the night I’ve seen photographers-for-hire huddle around the space in-between the rail and stage getting their dozens of shots in. For Front 242, the three-song policy got extended to four. It had to be. Warsaw security managed to catch one snap artist who didn’t know better.“No flash! No flash!” they told him as they pointed at and called him out on it. Which also begged the question: where the hell is Brooklyn’s industrial / synthwave fixture-photographer Nikki Sneakers? It’s been at least five years since I’ve seen her shooting at venues.

Front 242 played their most-recognizable and popular classics that established and pioneered EBM with “Don’t Crash”, “Operational Tracks”, “U-Men” and many more. It was all Richard 23, De Meyer, and Patrick Codenys in their unmistakable iconic tactical outfits with a shirtless Tim Kroker on live drums. They took all the power and energy they had and kept it going all the way, delivering nothing short of a rhythmic and beat-heavy experience they were known for. One funny moment to be seen was when De Meyer stood cross-armed wearing his huge shades and had such a scowl on his face, looking all bad-ass as the other three carried on. After eight or nine songs, 242 left the stage - not to lock targets and catch men - but to gear up for their first encore. We all knew there was more to come and what came was “Headhunter”, one of industrial / EBM’s most historic songs ever written. Two more songs later and 242 left the stage again charging up for another encore. As soon as we all heard the soundbyte “Hey, Poor!”, it meant only one thing: “Welcome to Paradise”. Only then was the perfect Front 242 show complete. The team of 23, De Meyer, Codenys, and Kroker took in a lengthy applause and gave a standing ovation as they all thanked New York City and bid farewell. The lights turn on for all of us to head out of Warsaw. I turn around to get going and behind me I see a female fan being consoled by her husband - and she’s in tears. Either she finally fulfilled her life-long dream of seeing Front 242 or saddened that they would say goodbye and farewell to the states, never to return.

The first five acts were amazing. It felt like I did a great service to myself in attending. I already checked off all the boxes I wanted to: take mass transit, visit Greenpoint, see Barker and Connolly play, and be associated with my kind of people. A night out in Brooklyn never fails and the thrills would still continue after the show ended. There’s always the experience of taking the alphabet and number lines - taking the ‘G’ and then the ‘7’ line to walk from 10th St. towards the Empire State Building and then arriving at Penn Station all by one-in-the-morning. Like the ride from Babylon to Penn Station, the reverse ride was quiet and not as crowded as a can of sardines. More exhilarating was the ride from Babylon back home where all the roads were empty and quiet, leading up to driving east on a wide-open Sunrise Highway at three in the morning and getting home all in 25 minutes time.

Night One of Cold Waves was now in the record books.

**********

Friday afternoon? Well, what an adventure. I had no idea that traffic was literally paralyzed on Sagtikos Parkway. It was that point where I knew it would be down to the wire getting to the Babylon station. From then on, I was finding every inch I could to cut other drivers off, find detours, and get head-starts while waiting for green lights and cursing out turtle drivers. Traffic was tight and every decision counted. One minute I thought I was going to make it and the next minute I was doubtful. South on Commack Road, down Deer Park Avenue then Route 231, and finally to Route 27A where I was only a few thousand feet away from the station. I arrive at the parking lot across from the station, bolted out of my car, ran across the street and up the stairs like a motherfucker. I finally reach the platform and - it’s taking off. Fucking great.

I had one hour until the next train to figure out how to unfuck myself and get to Warsaw in time. I tried signing up for OMNY (New York City’s wireless transit pay) months ago but was unsuccessful. Now time to try again. I downloaded the Apple Pay app- and then had to call the bank to connect my card. Now that it’s tied to my phone, I tired again to sign up for OMNY. Success! The 4:35 PM Babylon train arrives and I had 55 minutes to map out the quickest path in getting to my destination. The train arrives at Penn Station and I waste no time hauling ass to the ‘E’ line. Here we go. I hover my phone over the turnstile and - GO. Raced up and down the flights of stairs and I catch the ‘E’ train by five seconds before its doors closed. I take another 20 minutes to cool down before the transfer to Court Square / 23rd Street’s ‘G’ line. I hop off, sprint, and find the ‘G’ train that would take me to the Nassau Avenue stop, the closest one to Warsaw. It took me about two minutes and 1,000 feet to get there. I finally arrive out of breath before I go through the security checks and magic wands before entry. All clear. It’s 7:40 PM. Five minutes to go and I’m at the exact same spot I was the night before. All worship to Lucifer that I made it.

And now, night two begins.

If there was any artist to kick off Friday’s festivities that represented his hometown and carried its flag, then Confines was it. The hard-hitting, beat-heavy industrial-techno / EBM project certainly had some punch to it. Like Rein, Confines was a one-person show who did all of his instruments and movements on his own. Not bad at all. At the time of this writing I learned something about him that totally kicked me off of my seat: Confines happened to be David Castillo, co-owner of Brooklyn’s Saint Vitus bar and venue, host of the Age Of Quarantine podcast, and lead singer of Primitive Weapons. Are you fucking kidding me?! I was on the lookout to spot him at my last visit to -Vitus to see Uniform but I was shit out of luck. Now I finally found him performing at Cold Waves and didn’t even know that was him until after the fact! Fucking right. And it doesn’t stop there. I also learned that both Geography Of Nowhere 1 and Work Up The Blood was mixed and mastered by Hospital Productions’ Kris Lapke / Alberich and laid out by Sannhet’s AJ Annunziata. Wow. Talk about getting five-in-a-row on that bingo card.

Fans of Vancouver musicks enjoyed a two-for-one approaching the middle of the night’s bill. We were all treated to Leathers consisting of Shannon Hemmett (vocals), Kendall Wooding (synths), and Adam Fink (drums). For anyone who wanted the 2022’s tense of what an Eighties’ synthpop / new-wave show would look like? Well, now you have it. It was a treat seeing them perform and also seeing the slender Hemmett as an Eighties dream while Wooding and Fink played a smooth mid-tempo set. But with a wardrobe change and Jason Corbett coming into play, Leathers became Actors and Artoffact’s flagship band was the iteration that appeared on everyone’s radar as of late. They traded in their Eighties’ synthpop and new-wave cool for heavier rock. This time Hemmett took over synth duties and Wooding wielded bass as Fink stayed on drums and Corbett helped Actors push more power and electricity into their second set to keep the excitement steady from start to finish. I tried out both Leathers / Actors before and for some reason they’re not my type of heavy-rotation listening. However, there’s no denying that their talent brought them their well-deserved fanfare and exposure.

Not since Merzbow’s personnel bringing out his gear at Output have I been bracing myself with another artist’s set-up. Lighting fixtures attached all over and bulbs placed in front of huge cymbals might’ve told me that the next set would burn my eyes right off my face. Luckily, I was wrong. That was Kite’s visual set-up and a precursor to their performance. The Swedish duo of Niklas Stenemo and Christian Berg were another act I never heard anything of, and afterwards tilted me to give them a shot. Both were skilled in playing two keyboards at once (or keys- and knobs in Berg’s case) as they delivered a lively performance and Stenemo a few kicks, switching between synth-wave and synthpop. Their latest single “Bocelli” was the highlight on the night, showing their dramatics while also providing a soulful, heartfelt, and at times acclaimed power.

While Kite tore down their equipment, I thought of something. It’s been five years since I attended Hospital Production’s 20th Anniversary. I remember one moment near the end of the showcase when Bone Awl was playing their set - where all of a sudden Dominick Fernow (Prurient and Hospital- label-head) runs to the apron, stage-dives over the pit, and into the audience for a crowd-surf. It was a moment that never escaped me since then. Here I am back again at Warsaw for Cold Waves five years later and I’m at the rail for both nights. During one intermission, something dawned on me - I look at the rail, then the edge of the stage, and then the rail once again. I thought to myself: how in the fuck did Dominick have enough clearance to fly in the air, avoid banging into the rail, and land safely on top of the crowd? Good thing he successfully pulled off that spectacular feat.

Asterisk: New York City was supposed to receive Stabbing Westward as the closer to Cold Waves but had to bow out. That’s where Cold Cave gladly stepped in and ultimately sealed the deal for Cold Waves’ entire New York City stop. “Remember when we last played here?” lead singer Wes Eisold asked the audience. Yes I do, Wes. Yes I do. Seeing Cold Cave again for the second time in the same venue was another special bonus to me, and always a welcome one at that. I walk through previously-ventured territory and this time it was just as exciting as the last. All hits and zero misses from Eisold, his lady Amy Lee, and company. “Glory”, “People Are Poison”, “A Little Death To Laugh”, “Confetti”, “Rainbow Girls”, “Godstar”, “Theme From Tomorrowland”. You named it, they played it. For 50 minutes they kept a steady upbeat energy of synthwave and classic goth pedigree; not to mentions tons of smoke and fog fired towards our way to where I’m seriously considering getting myself screened. The only difference between their 2018 appearance and this one at Cold Waves? No sign of Max G. Morton, and Eisold’s heroine Genesis P. Orridge who joined him on guest vocals had sadly passed away since then.

But there was one shining onyx that fit the head jewel of the crown: when Eisold and Amy Lee brought their daughter out on stage. How fucking amazing was that? The audience collectively melted. Imagine being in your single-digits and having an amazing story to tell your friends back in school about how your rock-star dad brought you up on stage to sing for the crowd. Through their entire set, Cold Cave never let up and missed any of their targets as Eisold, Amy, and the rest played through their last encore and that’s all they wrote.

Before I knew it, it’s 12:20AM. Cold Waves in New York City was now history.

**********

I walk out of Warsaw and away from the busy volume of the patrons standing around in front of it. The night skies changed their tune to a purplish overhead. They were nice enough to wait until my moment was over to return. I’m now processing how to put the last 48 hours into words and also my place in the universe after being where I wanted to be. I head west on Driggs Street through McCarren Park weaving through the pedestrians walking towards me and observe a few small groups of people congregating and chilling on park grounds with their portable speakers. It’s only a few more blocks before I enter the ‘L’ line that will connect me to the ‘2’ line.

If only I can tell you the city’s delights that I’ve seen during my travels to Penn Station. I’ve seen female torture artists and double-pigtailed mistresses in their black onesies and shiny knee-high boots. There’s an Asian girl my height in a low-cut purple dress and her thigh is all bloodied and bandaged up; situated below her very visible purple underwear. Across from me was this gay guy who was the stunt double for The Ukiah Drag’s Tommy Conte, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek and sad-gazing in his boyfriend’s eyes who boarded off the ‘L’, but not before he blew Tommy a kiss goodbye. Another couple hopped on our crowded car. His blonde girlfriend’s neck and chest were literally covered red with hickeys and didn’t give a soaring aerial fuck about all the eyes and stares aimed at her. The ‘L’ ends and I transfer to the quick ‘2’ which only took five minutes to get me to Penn Station, leaving me with a half-an-hour wait for the Babylon train to arrive. Lather, rinse, and repeat with a left-hand forward ride to the station and another Sunrise Highway night drive back to my quiet-as-night neighborhood. A return to silent normalcy.

**********

Chicago has been widely known as the industrial capital of the U.S. It’s where Jim Nash and Danny Flescher established Wax Trax as a record store and the label that’s given birth to the careers and legacies of Ministry, KMFDM, My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult, Meat Beat Manifesto, and countless other acts. It’s also where Public Image Ltd.’s Martin Atkins created Pigface and Invisible Records and gave life to Chemlab, Damage Manual, Dead Voices On Air, Murder Inc., Ritalin, Sheep On Drugs, and Test Dept. All these artists made my identity, or part of it. Throughout the years I’ve followed all of my favorite artists and have never given up on them. They were there for me during my difficult times at community college and to this day I’ve never tired of their projects. It wasn’t until recently when I revisited the classics that I realized that these artists and labels were in my heart all along. Millions of industrialists join each other in various online groups to share their stories and live memories and say “hi!” to the many legends who lurk around and keep that cameraderie going. I see the company around me in Greenpoint who share similar interests, qualities, and aesthetics and those are the people I want to be associated with.

I thought attending just one Boy Harsher show was a rite of passage. Yes - more in the synthwave world. I’ve also attended shows for Nine Inch Nails, Ministry, and Killing Joke and that’s more than enough for me to hoist my flag for this genre. (Naysayers will wave their filthy unclean fingers at me and say “not so fast” because I wasn’t able to go to a Skinny Puppy show.) I’ve heard many great things about Cold Waves that I’d be a fool to miss out. Mutuals who went told me it’d be amazing and they were double-right. With Front 242’s final American appearances and with Braker and Connelly having to quit the RevCo name, this year was a non-negotiable. What started out as a one-night benefit and an honor of Jason Novak (Acumen Nation, DJ? Acucrack) and David Schock’s fallen friend Jamie Duffy evolved into an (almost) annual round of the best and legendary industrial, synthpop, and synthwave acts. Like my attendance with the previous Cold Cave and Black Marble shows, attending Cold Waves was a thank-you to the scene that gave me an identity but also to a certain number of acts that helped build it.

It’s been one of the best and most exhilarating moments of the year, ranking as high as Sacred Bones’ 15th anniversary. If the line-up for next year is as good or better (how could it?), then I guarantee you I’ll be returning.

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