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silaslich · 23 days ago

Text

If it hurts to breathe, open a window

Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Summary - following the first mission with Soap in mw2. You meet Ghost for the first time, he’s different to the stories you’ve been told.

Wc - 10k

Cw - heavy on plot, injury/blood/death, directly follows mw2 canon, canon typical violence, plane crash

Dark clouds crowded the sky overhead, swirling in a mass of stoney graphite and charcoal grey. The butter-kissed horizon of daylight had faded into a mass of deep violet and midnight blue, melting against the sky to make way for the cover of night.

There was so much noise around for your ears to process; the trucks engine roaring as it’s tyres rolled smoothly and quickly over the damp tarmac, the loud excited voices of the men sitting next to and across from you as they chatted away- having to shout into one another’s ear over the sound of the Boeing CH-47’s rotor system booming to life as she prepared to depart onto the runway.

You kept your eyes down, staring idly at the dark steel floor, mind processing and dissecting the information you’d been given not even an hour ago.

General Ghorbrani was dead. Killed in a missile strike in Al Mazrah several months ago after being discovered working with the Russians- whom of which were supplying Iran with armour and hardware. Part of Tf-141 along with Shadow Company had been the ones to neutralise the threat and the entire arms deal.

Same shit different day, only, it wasn’t as simple as that this time. Ghorbrani had a second in command, Hassan Zyani, Quds Force Major. He’d taken up the mantle for Iran. Now it was him supplying terrorists; money, weapons, intel. You name it. The man was dangerous and he wanted retaliation for the Ghorbrani strike, he wanted revenge, that in itself was dangerous enough. Laswell was convinced he was planning something, and whatever it was, it was going to be big. She had managed to track him and found that he was on the ground in Al Mazrah, and that’s just where you were headed.

You were knocked out of your dissociative state when someone lightly punched your arm. “Y’alright?” The Scotsman was his usual optimistic self, a stupid grin slanting across his face as he looked at you.

You nodded, realising the vehicle had stopped and was beginning to empty around the two of you. Soap stood up from the bench and jumped down from the tailgate, nodding his head to the side, signalling for you to follow him. You did, adjusting your gun at your side as you landed squarely on two feet.

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish had been a thorn in your side for the majority of your military service. Despite being deployed hundreds of times in numerous countries all across the globe you still ended up bumping into that big Scottish bastard far too often. He looked out for you, although you never asked him to, he’d taken a shining to you. And you to him. Like the brother you never had, and never wanted. He always knew how to lighten even the darkest of situations; whether it was his shit jokes or stupid questions, he never failed to pull you out of your own head.

You had joined the British Army at your earliest opportunity when you left college at eighteen. With nothing keeping you tied to home anymore- you left. Without a single pence in your pocket or a dream in your head. Better to die fighting in a war than die fighting an overdose in a back alley like some do. Stuck in a town that never wakes. Dingy corner shops and abandoned parks that are rusted to death. Those same people that have been there for years and never leave. They’re too content there, you think, perfectly happy in their mediocrity. You had wanted more. You didn’t want to fade into that kind of life. Scraping together change from a shitty job to get by, meeting and settling with someone for the sake of it only to have a child entirely accidentally- stuck forever. You needed more.

After serving for a little over a decade you were drawn for the SRR, moving up rank and earning your title as Sergeant only a year later- then finally you were transferred to the SAS. Who you’d now served with for the last two years. It was worlds apart from your early army days, you hadn’t needed to go through the selection process because you were handpicked and transferred, but the stories you’d heard over dinner in the canteen and through whispers in the barracks spoke for themselves in volumes.

Soap held his rifle with two hands, keeping it close to his chest as he moved to step forward. The two of you were strapped to the gills in full gear; night vision goggles sitting atop your helmet, throwing knives strapped to your sides and your full equipment vest covering your chest. A patch of the British flag in grey, black and white strapped to your vest proudly.

You stood fast- following Soap’s back with your eyes as you watched him approach another soldier. The soldier was tall. Much taller than Soap was, and that was saying something considering the Scotsman was at least a head taller than you, the line of your shoulder just reaching the mid of his bicep. His height hadn’t been the first thing you noticed about this soldier- no, it was his mask. The crude face covering was fashioned from a black balaclava and skull mask; sewn together with thick stitches connecting them to one another and painted with thick-dull lines of off-white down through the eyes and over the teeth. You cocked your head and squinted your eyes, you were stood too far away to hear what they were saying, and with Soap’s back towards you and this soldier’s face covered nothing gave their topic of conversation away.

Simon Riley. Otherwise known as Ghost both in and out of the field, not many earned the right to call him by his real name.

You’d never met him, only now setting eyes on him for the first time; but Soap had told you all about him. Not just Soap, but near enough every soldier in any platoon you’d served with had a story to tell of the Ghost. Wether it was something they’d either seen or heard, he had a reputation. Not only was he an expert marksman; he was highly intelligent and was a master with his knife skills, but he was most notorious for his stealth and torture expertise. He was an anomaly. Not only was he greatly feared but he was simultaneously looked up to and admired, soldiers wanted to be like him. Be him.

Johnny gave the man a punch to the shoulder, identical to the one he’d just given you, from the stupid grin on his face when he turned back to face you, it was clear Soap was happy to see Ghost. The man in the mask stood for a second and you watched, he didn’t follow after Soap right away, you saw briefly that his mouth was moving beneath his mask, he was talking to someone over comms. Slowly turning to walk the other way as he did.

MacTavish approached you “let’s get ourselves a win, yeah?” he tapped your shoulder twice as he passed by you, making his way toward the helo just twenty feet behind you, now full of marines.

“Let’s” you answered him swiftly, still watching from the corner of your eye as Ghost continued to retreat further away from the transport, you turned you shoulder to follow after Soap when he was no longer in your view.

It wasn’t long before everyone was onboard and you were air born, flying inbound towards the border of Al Mazrah. The craft rocked and jerked with the turbulence, it was cramped and warm and far too loud. Flashing white lights assaulted your vision like beacons from time to time, breaking through the streams of deep crimson red that painted the entire inside of the holding compartment. The flight was relatively short in comparison to other missions you’d been on. Still, there was something stagnant lingering in the air, a hunger palpating the breath of these men.

Laswell’s brief had been short and sweet, a run down on enemy positions and the split teams objectives. Three words kept ringing through your skull. Capture or kill.

When it boiled down to it. Hassan was needed alive, but the reality was there was every chance that it might be forced out of someone’s hands. It was still a mission success if he was killed, but the priority was getting him alive.

By chance, Ghost had been seated directly across from you the entire duration of the transport over. With his gun held to his chest he stared forward, right through you, and you did the same. He didn’t scare you, he had no need to. However, his energy did throw you slightly. He had a calm eeriness about him, and his demeanour was even and smooth, but you had a feeling that would all change as soon as he set his boots down onto enemy ground in a few short minutes.

The helo stuttered in the air, dropping lower and cutting through the air as you neared closer to the ground. Silently, Ghost stood.

His gruff voice tore through the white noise of the whirring rotors of the craft, this was the first time you’d heard him speak.

“Bravo team offloads here. Alpha team stays onboard with the Sergeant to land downrange” the heavy footfalls of his boots echoed across the floor as he proceeded down the craft, your rank and name ringing in your ears as he continued addressing his soldiers. “Both teams meet in the middle. Remember, we want Hassan alive” he stopped at the ramp, turning back to speak again “but this is capture or kill.”

As the craft came to thudding land and the ramp began to descend with a mechanical whir, the men selected for Bravo team began to stand, migrating towards Ghost as he stood and waited. Soap stood from his seat next to you with a grunt, adjusting his gun to free up his right hand; wordlessly he held out his fist. You didn’t need prompting, you reached up and bumped your fist against his, nodding at him as his mouth quirked up, just slightly. As you looked towards the ramp your eyes were met with cold dark irises staring right back at you, neither of you made a move to break the eye contact. Ghost was momentarily blocked from your view by Soap’s back, you heard the clack of Ghost flipping his night vision goggles down “keep up, Soap” he barked as he turned to descend the ramp.

You found yourself watching them both as they left, their stances shifting low as they drew their guns and headed towards the broken sandstone structures that had been destroyed long before your teams had gotten here. The ramp shut quickly and you were airborne again, the loud deafening sound of the rotars whirring over your head kicking back into gear again. You shook your head and took a deep inhale of breath, shifting to a stance that meant you wouldn’t stumble from the turbulence.

“You heard the lieutenant team Alpha” your voice was clear and loud, carrying through the torrent of noise. “Let’s get this done” you added as you turned, glancing out of one of the circular windows to peer out into the navy star-speckled night sky.

The sky was one of the only things that stayed consistent in your life. When things got rough or began to drown you, all you had to do was look up. No matter rain or shine; light or dark or sunset or night sky. It always gave you a calming sense of reality, something to escape away from the unfair world you lived in. Away from the blood and the bullets.

As you casted your eyes over toward a cluster of hills nestled against the horizon, a fast approaching stream of fire and smoke stole your eye. Before you could raise the alarm, the pilot’s voice sparked your comms device to life “All stations- Razor-1 is bracketed. We’re getting lit!” His panic was evident and your heart jumped in your throat, you needed to get these men out alive.

“Alpha team hold fast! Prepare for impact” your voice was hoarse as you shouted over the pilot’s voice as he continued shouting through the comms, you urged your men to copy your actions as you held onto the supports above your head, bracing for impact. You felt the entire craft lurch and you were thrown forward, hitting your head against the metal frame of the wall as you collided with it.

“Razor 1 going down! We’re going down!” The pilot bellowed and it rang through your already ringing ears, your vision blurred and the swirl of red lights had you dazed. You tried to stand again, the missile had hit and the whole contents of the craft were flung upwards, including you and your men. You urged them to hang on, to protect themselves from injury as best they could-this was bad and you knew it. You gave them hope as your brain ran into overdrive, wondering how to come out of this.

The impact was like nothing you’d ever experienced- there weren’t any training drills that could simulate a cargo helo crashing from a missile strike at full plummeting speed. Yourself and everyone else on board were flung like rag dolls, colliding with each other, colliding with the walls and ceiling. You caught yourself on a loose seatbelt as you were sent flying forward, palms stinging as the material tore through the skin of your palms. You managed to steady yourself and were forced to watch as one soldier attempted to break his fall with his hands, his arms snapping like twigs from the g-force of the crash and the weight of his own body. You let go of the belt and landed on your back, your ribs connecting with a weapons carrier on the way down as another jolt sent you hurling at Godspeed. You heard the crunch of your bones and winced at the sting running up your side like an electric shock.

The whole ordeal was quick; as the smoke rose and the broken-frayed wiring sparked to illuminate the chaos around you, you could see clearly the full extent of destruction and devastation from the crash.

You coughed as you felt blood begin to fill your mouth and you could feel something warm oozing down the right side of your face. Before you could fully process the scene around you, your comms crackled and a voice found your ears. “Alpha, what’s your status?!” Ghost’s voice was on the brink of showing a slight slither of emotion. You felt like you were choking, the blood and the smoke, it was all too much. You blinked through the darkness and tried to gather your bearings. Rising gingerly to your knees, you were quick to have to clutch at your side, trying to subdue the pain.

Blood stained the walls and floors, bodies were slumped around you and all you could hear was the sounds of coughing and shifting that were almost muted against the sound of the fire now ripping through the crash site. “Alpha, how copy?” Ghost was there again in your head, voice rattling through your ear piece.

You cleared your throat “Ghost” you choked on the blood in your mouth “Alpha is immobile multiple critical!” You slumped down, your body ceasing from the pain as it tore through your nerves. Your senses were lit ablaze when bullets began to rain through the fire and debris, catching the metal and rattling like hailstones. You pressed yourself low to the ground with a pained grunt, pressing your thumb down on your comms again. “Shit! We’re taking effective fire!” You shouted, crawling on your hands and knees toward the wounded, planning to find a gun and cover them from the bullets.

“Sergeant, we’re moving to building 1, hold tight!” As quick as his voice was there again, it was gone.

Your eyes searched the wreckage for anything to help combat the active fire you were taking, that’s when you noticed a gun beneath one of the wounded and you crawled closer towards him. Trying to be as gentle as you could, you rolled him onto his side but he still howled in pain- despite the guilt you knew you had to press on. You nudged the gun from beneath his legs and laid him flat again, not wanting to do him anymore damage if it were his neck or spine that was injured. You grabbed the gun and moved towards better cover, the wreck wasn’t secure and it wouldn’t be long before the enemy moved closer and you’d be compromised. You didn’t open fire yet, there was no point with just one gun, you kept your eyes about you but moved to tend to more wounded.

It was clear that amongst the casualties there were mortally wounded soldiers on your hands, some already dead or close to it. You tried to make them comfortable, trying hard not to think too hard into it. You would want the same if you were in their position. You tried to drown out the noise of the shells raining through the wreckage. Spouting nonsense about nothing, humming a tune as you tied a strip of ripped cloth around someones half amputated leg. You’d seen chaos before, even before you joined the army, but you hadn’t seen this caliber of bloodied carnage in a long time- not since you’d first been deployed.

Back when the fresh faces of young soldiers are first shipped out, not knowing what lays ahead, unknowing that the friends they made in their months of training could soon be lying face down in the mud. You didn’t like thinking back to that time, but right now, you’d give anything to be back there.

You didn’t keep track of time, you thought it best not to. The fire was burning its way around you, it felt like it was under your skin, sweating from the inside out. Bullet shells didn’t cease fire upon your position, they grew erratic and laboured, like the enemy were unsure if anyone was even still alive in the wreckage. You jumped when you heard a voice in your ear again.

“Soap- we’re moving to the crash site to help the wounded. Rest o’ you hold here and cover us” it was Ghost again. The boys were close, not long and you’d have help. It might have only been seconds before you heard footsteps closing in, you could never be safe, you pointed your gun towards the noise and held your finger on the trigger. Always ready. You focused your eyes, squeezing the trigger.

“Blue blue!” A voice shouted, you dropped the aim of your gun, relief rinsing through your bloodstream as you saw Ghost and Soap enter the wreckage.

“It’s good to see you two” you sighed “we’ve got five KIA and one wounded, it’s just me and my gun” you said, eyes daring to peer outside toward the tree line, checking for more movement. Ghost stiffened.

“They’re here, get your fuckin’ gun on that tree line” he ordered, moving himself into position as Soap followed.

You raised yourself up, holding onto some webbing draping across the craft for some leverage, you’d taken more damage than you’d initially realised. It would have to wait. Coming up to stand to your full height, you shuffled yourself into a better position. You took a low firing line, flipping the night vision goggles atop your helmet into position so you could better see. It wasn’t clear, smoke still rising, but it was clear enough.

“Got movement” Soap stated roughly.

“If you have a shot, take it” Ghost’s tone was menacing, his demeanour had done a complete 180 onto its head, like you’d predicted. You were the first to shoot.

“Engage!” you shouted, spotting more shooters spilling from behind a wall. Bullets sliced through the air, the sound ringing in your ears from all angles. You hit multiples, as did the boys, the enemy gave it their best go too. Your eyes caught sight of something, you shouted as you realised what it was. “RPG!” You ducked your head, watching the men in the wreckage around you do the same, very briefly. What was left of the helo rocked and jerked from the force of the blow, more metal flying away and shredding.

“Fuck” Soap growled, losing his bearings. Ghost let out a frustrated noise.

“Get your guns up” you all continued to fire, watching more enemy soldiers dropped to the ground.

This continued, more and more soldiers spilling from the tree line and opening fire. You were low on ammo, you threw a grenade out the window in front of you and it rolled towards a cluster of wooden supply boxes, at least three men were killed when the blast went off. Ghost was opening fire like hell, Soap too, the Scotsman quickly running out and setting mines between reloading stints to fend off the targets that managed to get close enough.

“Dig in, lads. We’re not done yet” the lieutenant was still firing as he spoke, not letting his guard down once. You kept your eyes forward, squinting them when you noticed an abnormal layering of smoke begin to rise from the tree line.

“We got smoke, boys, in the tree line” you grit your teeth, knowing what this meant.

“No visual” Soap said, flatly.

You retorted “I can’t see shit”.

There was a second of silence, “incoming!” Ghost shouted.

More fire hit you, a bullet whizzed so close past your face you wouldn’t have been surprised if it left a mark. Too close. You’d not realised, but Ghost was practically at your side, covering more men coming from the tree line closer to where you were shooting.

“Take cover!” he barked, cold eyes glaring forward as he shot more rounds into the smoke. More explosions rang out, coming closer each time, rumbling the very earth from the force of it.

“They’re launching grenades!” Soap shouted.

Your gun ran out of ammo and you’d lost your hand gun in the crash, your eyes darted around, then you saw the one strapped to the lieutenant’s thigh. You ripped it quickly from the holster, adjusting your position on your knees to get a better shot. You fired through the explosions and into the darkness, hearing more thuds as more targets hit the dirt. Ghost didn’t seem to react to you taking his gun, maybe he was too focussed on the incoming fire. You didn’t catch what he said, speaking through comms to whoever was there. Your brain felt like mush and your ears were still ringing, not to mention the bleeding from your head hadn’t stopped.

“Air support is on its way” he said.

Some of the smoke started to clear. Less and less soldiers were pushing through to the wreckage, this was nearly over.

“Let’s move up. We clear this position and push forward, if Hassan is still here he’s up ahead” Ghost gave the order, Soap clearly didn’t agree but there was no time for discussion. You whistled for their attention.

“Armoured vehicles closing in, there’s four of ‘em” you stated, watching them roll into the darkness through your goggles.

The men adjusted their stances, “let ‘em get close” Ghost ordered, clearly thinking about conserving energy and ammo. You nodded.

Just as they came close enough, the three of you let bullets free, the enemy returning it back with the same fever. To your relief the skys growled over head, barely noticeable through the shrouds of smoke, turrets of bullets rained down by the hundreds, air support cleared the way for you to move up the hill.

A soldier from bravo team radioed through from where he was covering your position, “all clear lieutenant, no movement ahead” he stated.

Ghost replied straight away with a simple “rog”.

Ghost turned, not specifically toward you but toward the entirety of the wreckage, darkened eyes scanning the carnage. His thumb pressed into the button of his comms device, “air support, task a bird for casualty evac” it crackled as he waited for a response.

“Roger that lieutenant” they quickly responded.

Soap and Ghost led the way out of the wreckage and you quickly followed after them. “Alpha you’re with us” Ghost shouted, a number of soldiers joined you as they answered back a “yes sir” in unison.

Your lungs felt like they were on fire and your ribcage felt weak, hollow-boned like that of a bird. The pain was piercing you, like needles pressing deep down into the fibres of your muscles. But you kept on, legs carrying you along with the others, pure adrenaline being your only saving grace at this point. You hissed in pain as your damaged knee almost gave way beneath you, the lieutenant noticed.

“They used us for fucking bait, didn’t they?” you growled, trying your best not to look like you were struggling. Ghost cocked his head toward you.

“They’re well supplied and fighting smart, thanks to Hassan” he put it simply. Soap chimed in.

“Aye. Looks like you were right, Lt.” he said.

Your eyes took in the scene in front of you, fire and explosions lighting the way. “You think Hassan’s still here?” You asked, eyes and borrowed hand gun still aiming forward.

“Heli crash gave ‘em an opening. Let’s see if they took it” Ghost was a realist. Good to know.

All of you continued to run. Breaths heaving and bodies aching. Adrenaline fuelled your blood, you moved up quickly, arriving at the last building. You went to take positions when fire rained toward you, a soldier only inches to your left dropped, caught in the line of a sniper.

“Man down!” you shouted, unable to look at the man as you took his rifle. You dropped low as everyone around you did the same, focusing fire on the roof top of the building.

“AQ has got night vision” Soap stated the obvious, taking out two snipers simultaneously. You grunted in response, focusing your eye through the scope and taking out another shooter up ahead.

“Clear” Ghost shouted. “Move up. Let’s find Hassan, dead or alive” his tone shifted, dangerous now.

You made it to the house. Clearing the first floor, dropping anyone that moved. “We need positive ID on Hassan, check the bodies” you barked out to the soldiers behind you, sticking with Soap and Ghost as they continued to move on.

It was all negative. No positive ID from any of the bodies, he wasn’t upstairs either. The three of you continued, a door flung open, before they could even move to fire their weapon, Ghost shot a round into their stomach and another into their skull. Dropping them effortlessly like it was nothing.

The house was wrecked. A twisted mess of broken brick and fractured stone, electrical wire looming low overhead firing sparks in all directions. You stuck close to Soap as he followed Ghost, noticing that there was a voice playing through something- you all moved toward it, heading up more stairs. Ghost broke the door with a kick, no positive on Hassan, just his propaganda playing on loop through a laptop.

“Hassan’s everywhere” Ghost growled and

“Everywhere but here” Johnny scoffed.

You split off, heading off alone through more of the upstairs, the boys didn’t noticed you’d gone. They’d clearly continued on thinking you were right there behind them. You pointed your gun around the door frame of an upstairs corridor, your body following as you perceived it to be clear. Last minute, bullets flew through a compromised section of the dry wall, heading straight towards you. By some luck, you’d managed to dodge them, leering forward behind a protruding structure in the wall and retaliating with your own fire. You cleared the corridor and entered the room that the target had been guarding. Hassan had been in there.

Ghost and Soap must have been alerted by the gun fire, they came in hot, practically sprinting to your location. They stopped short in the doorway, your back was towards them, their eyes searched the room. You turned towards them, a uniform jacket scrunched tightly in your fist.

“Hassan’s uniform” you seethed. Mactavish gave out a grunt.

“So he was here” he flailed an arm in frustration. Ghost remained in the doorway, his eyes low.

“Lost him when we secured the crash site” he said simply, lowly.

The weight of Ghost’s words hit you in the chest like a bullet, but you knew they shouldn’t have, deep down you knew he was right. Soap was standing between you and Ghost, his eyes darting between the two of you.

“Are you sayin’ we shouldn’t have helped?” Soap squared his shoulders. Ghost just shrugged.

“Choices have consequences”. It was just that simple.

“All bravo, we’ve got movement out here” the voice hit through your ear piece, breaking the tension in the room.

“On the way” Ghost confirmed.

The three of you continued on. Moving back the way you’d come and heading out towards the rest of the team, they’d seen movement in a warehouse up ahead. All of Bravo and what was left of Alpha moved in, lighting up fire when they reached the rolling doors. More soldiers dropped. Shot dead. You all kept pushing through, eyes through scopes and fingers on triggers. You broke off, tucking and rolling behind a metal container, opening more fire as you pushed the enemy back with forcible ammunition. Ghost was on your tail, following after you and overtaking, pushing on through. Soap was up next and came to cover you, locking his palms together to make it easier for you to hoist yourself up on top of the container. There was another container there to keep you shielded, it gave you a vantage point over the targets that had tried to retreat to higher ground. You dropped them easily.

For what felt like the first time in hours, everything stopped. All of the noise. Everything.

“Are we clear?” Soap shouted up to you, you let out a laboured breath. You stuck your thumb up.

“Clear” you said. Your knees burned as you jumped down from the container, you didn’t give yourself a chance to ease yourself down.

“Search it, let’s see what they’re hiding” Ghost’s voice echoed through the now dying silence, the warehouse carrying the gravely baritone of his voice. You closed in on Johnny, following him as he approached one of the container doors that was ajar. From first look, it was controls. Panels and buttons and screens.

“What the fuck is this?” Soap queried. You looked closer.

“It’s all in English” you said, eyes still scanning frantically. Living up to his name, Ghost was suddenly there, behind you, so close you could feel his warmth at your back. You watched as Soap flipped one of the switches, the entire warehouse shook, the container vibrating and whirring.

All three of you stepped back quickly, eyes trained up watching it all unfold.

“Fucking hell” you breathed.

“Steamin’ Jesus” Soap’s jaw was on the floor.

“Ballistic missiles”. Ghost’s gaze hardened.

You frowned “it’s a mobile launcher”.

Another soldier chimed in behind you. “These will go 1,000 miles”.

“At least” Ghost added.

You stepped forward and moved around to the left of the container to get a better look, Soap wasn’t far behind.

“How the hell did Iran get their hands on this?” Soap growled in the back of his throat.

The men watched as you ascended the weapon carriers that were piled up next to the container, making quick work of the climb, a new shot of rage fuelled adrenaline kicking through your veins.

Ghost spoke up “7-6, get us through to Laswell” his eyes were still scanning the discovery in front of him.

“Roger, stand by” the soldier spoke quickly “Bravo 7-6 Charlie to Watcher-1, how copy?” You all waited for a response.

Laswell’s voice quickly chimed in “this is Watcher-1, send traffic” she spoke clearly.

“Laswell, this is Ghost. We got something” the concern was laced in his voice.

“You found Hassan?” She asked quickly.

Your eyes landed on something truly jolting. “Ghost, Soap, take a look at this” you urged, turning your neck to meet their eyes, their expression no doubt mirrored yours. Laswell��s frantic voice broke the silence again.

“Ghost, do you have Hassan?” She asked again.

You watched as Ghost pressed down the button to his comm, leaning down to speak loud and clear. “Negative. We found a weapons cache. Hassan’s got missiles, they’re American” a silence enveloped the warehouse.

“0-7 this is Gold Eagle Actual, repeat your last” General Shepherd’s voice was frantic.

“I’ll say again, Hassan has American missiles” Ghost repeated.

It’s almost as if the air was sucked from the warehouse like a vacuum. You would have heard a pin drop it was that quiet. The way you slumped down into a seated position wasn’t graceful or quiet, but you weren’t about to stand for any longer then you needed to. Soap snapped his neck toward you, his eyes searching yours, you nodded toward him with a half-arsed thumbs up. You saw in the way that his expression fell that you weren’t in a good way, the bleached lights of the warehouse would have left no injury of yours unseen to the eye. You’d lost a lot of blood but you’d make more, right now there were more important things to worry about.

Rain pattered gently across your cheeks, it’s cold chill seeping right down to your bones- forcing you to shiver. You hummed, arms crossed over your chest as you sat on the damp brick stone wall with your chin tilted skyward, more droplets cascading down your face like gentle streams over your skin.

This was probably the only thing you missed about England. The shit weather. Soaking wet springtimes and late hazy summers, rugged cold autumns and early winters smothered with snow. You struggled to remember much about them; you didn’t have fond childhood memories of building snow men and drinking hot chocolate, nor were you able to think back to a summer where you’d stay at the park all day playing football, coming home to a freezer-burnt ice cream that your mum had dug out for you.

There was none of that. None of the warm fondness or swell of nostalgic familiarity in your chest. You pushed everything away. There was nothing that you saw worthy to keep in your head; no core memories of birthdays or holidays, no movie nights in or sleepovers with friends. Your entire childhood had been stolen from you, thrown away- just like you had been.

Your memories of British summertimes were filled with laughter; water fights on the barrack fields after quitting time. Bike rides at sunrise instead of hitting the gym, even wild swims at the coast on rarer occasions.

The wet springtimes; running drills through knee high mud, purposefully hitting the ground with heavy footfalls to splash one another. Wringing out your rain soaked shirts in the locker rooms and whipping each other till your skin welted- crying with laugher till you were on the floor.

Autumn, perhaps your favourite. Walking across base - watching as the leaves fell in a blanket of umber and tawny, crunched under your boots, the smell of damp earth in the air, so fresh and free as it stole the very breath from your lungs.

Harsh winters were common, on the contrary to summer, wild swims in below freezing temperatures as part of vital training, your teeth chattering so hard you were sure they’d break. Warm hot chocolate spiced with a drop of whiskey in the evening; settled around a table, talking about everything and nothing in the communal rooms while shuffling a deck of cards- thinking about the idea of found family, realising it’s not as far out of reach as you’d thought.

Those were your memories of home, of England, your memories of the place you were born.

The military had been the making of you- there was nothing before that, you were made for this. You told yourself that on repeat, the army had saved you, put a roof over your head. There was no shadow of doubt that your life would have been very different if you hadn’t taken this route, and you were convinced that you would have been six feet under by now.

The rain was only passing. The frigid breeze carrying it ever so gently, kissing your skin. You wished a storm would come your way, wash you out and provide a much needed clarity- a reset. You did always love thunderstorms, watching the lightning split the sky, cracking and illuminating as it broke apart.

You were sitting outside. The backend of the barracks were more sheltered, further hidden from higher ups that would scald you for being outdoors so late.

After the last twenty-four hours you’d had, you should have completely crashed. Been dead to the world as soon as your head hit your pillow. But you didn’t - couldn’t. Unable to sleep, unable to settle, thoughts racing and mind following. There was so much going through your head, and that wasn’t common for you, this should have been just like any other day; any other job.

Something was different, and you knew it was far from over yet.

Soap had been by your side the entirety of the transport back to the barracks, his eyes wide and searching as he asked you question after question, barely letting you close your eyes for even a second for fear you’d slip into a coma from the blood-loss.

You wanted to bang your head against the metal of the craft as you sat there listening to him drone on. Either that or you would rip Johnny’s voice box out of his throat with your bare hands. Ghost’s fists clenched where they sat resting on his thighs.

“Leave it, Mactavish” he’d barked, clicking his tongue as he did, clearly it wasn’t just your nerves Soap was grating on.

You wanted to laugh as you watched the Scotsman shrink back in his seat, like a dog with its tail between its legs, not liking getting told off. Yet, your smile washed away, swallowed by the tension in the craft. The entire mission hadn’t gone to plan, coming up short, following dead lead after dead lead. With fatalities and injuries on top of that, it didn’t serve to keep the morale of the team up.

The three of you didn’t speak much. You could see the tiredness eating it’s way at Soap, feeling as his body grew heavier and heavier beside you in his seat. Ghost was sitting across from you, like he had done on the transport over seas chasing the dead lead, you couldn’t see him all that clearly, the night flight back to base didn’t provide much light to go by, only giving you a rough shadowed outline of where and how he was sitting.

Yet, you were sure you could feel Ghost’s mind ticking over. Almost as if you could hear the man thinking, could hear the gears turning over and over in his head as he sat there- stewing away behind that mask of his. He kept his arms folded across his chest, another barrier thrown up in defence, dead eyes glaring towards the ceiling as he rested the crown of his head against the back of his seat. He had his legs kicked out and splayed apart, resting either side of your boots, right foot tapping away in absent thought.

You hadn’t managed to sleep, didn’t even feel groggy at all, and you were always the first to sleep on transport. Usually loved getting rocked to sleep from the turbulence or terrain. There had been a running joke for years that you could sleep anywhere at anytime, your body had improved over the years at getting used to time zones and differences, it barely reached you anymore.

It was unusual. Your body wouldn’t allow you to rest, perhaps the adrenaline hadn’t subsided just yet, maybe after you’d been to medical upon landing and gotten cleaned up you’d feel better.

Negative.

Soap had marched you to the medial building as soon as you’d gotten to base, tugging you by the arm like you were a naughty child. The other soldiers had gone straight to the barracks, heading straight to their bunks to sleep off the last twenty-four hours, they’d earned it. Even Ghost went.

You shooed Johnny away as soon as you were being seen to, urging him that he didn’t have to babysit you and that he should rest up. You reminded him that this wouldn’t be a long respite. He had nodded, a smile quirking at his lips as he held out his fist, you rolled your eyes- but you bumped your fist to his nether the less.

The sweet nurse had tried to express her concerns for the state you were in, but as lovely as she was, you brushed her off. She was short and blonde, the tiredness in her pretty hazel eyes showing you she’d been in the med room since early doors. She’d urged for you to have x-rays taken of your chest, that even if your ribs were just fractured that it could potentially cause other issues if you hadn’t already punctured a lung or lacerated any other organs. You pulled a bullshit excuse out of your arse and handed it to her with the nicest of smiles, hopping down from the examination bed as you buttoned your shirt back up. She’d already cleaned and taped the wound on your head, cleaning some of your other cuts and grazes and smothering them in balm to keep anything nasty out. She sent you on your way after shoving some heavy painkillers down your throat, knowing you weren’t going to take her advice and that you’d deploy again tomorrow, and she was right- you couldn’t sit this one out now.

After leaving the medical building you’d made your way outside, and you hadn’t moved since. It must have been hours now. You stopped counting after two, letting the cold chill of the rain and wind sting your face as you perched there on that wall, content and calm. Perhaps it was the painkillers making your head foggy, calming the thrum of your blood as you stared out into the star studded darkness.

Upon hearing heavy footfalls scuffing across the concrete, you turned your attention to the source of the sound, watching a shadowy figure approaching as they descended the stairs that led back towards the main buildings. You couldn’t see all too clearly, there were no lights to illuminate the area in which you were sitting, to purposely discourage loitering. Whoever it was didn’t speak right away, you tilted your head back towards the sky, closing your eyes with a sigh. They came to a stop next to where you were sitting on the wall, not invading your space directly but barely keeping their distance.

A faint click of a lighter striking caught your attention and your eyes opened to flicker over to your left- it was Ghost.

The cigarette was already between his lips, his left hand cupping it to protect it from the wind and rain as the other hand held the lighter, dying away with a loud click.

You watched as he inhaled deeply, the swell of his chest rising as the end of the cigarette illuminated a deep amber, causing shadows to dance across his face from the glow. The mask caught you. This wasn’t the one he’d been wearing before, this one was a simple black balaclava with his characteristic skull printed onto the lower part of the face- it was already pulled up to the bridge of his nose when you had turned to look at him. There were thick smudges of black-grease paint plastered over his eye sockets, making the colour contrast with the hickory brown of his eyes.

There was something about your lieutenant that you couldn’t quite grasp fully; you’d met plenty of reserved soldiers before, closed off and more secretive about themselves and their lives outside of these walls- but Ghost was different. It’s as if there was nothing outside of these walls for him. The military and the 141 were his entire life, the reason he breathed air and woke up in a morning.

When the others made plans for leave or talked about their families, he didn’t, he’d stay and he’d listen. Never has he ever uttered so much as a word about his private life, maybe he did have one, maybe a wife and a family- but you couldn’t see it.

He was just so- unmoved. He barely showed outward concern for himself or his team, the latter more so but only if it was fatal. He knew that collateral damage was a given, he knew that every mission he deployed on he would come back with less soldiers then he left with. Ghost swallowed that pill everyday, the lives he holds in his hands, the weight of the grief on his shoulders. It was any surprise he was still standing, but you guess he was numb to it now, that’s why he didn’t feel it anymore. He was so used to death and destruction, it was starting to be ineffective at jarring him, at making him feel any kind of way about it.

Ghost pockets the lighter, reaching up and holding the cigarette between his thumb and index finger as he retracts it from his mouth, a deep-dark cloud of smoke falling from his lips as he breathes it out.

Your eyes lingered. Assessing the dressed down version of the infamous soldier as he leaned back against the wall. His boots and trousers were what was left of his uniform, from the waist up he was wearing a charcoal coloured jacket with a high collar that he’d pulled up, covering what you could see of a simple black undershirt peeking out from between the zipper of his jacket.

The darkness didn’t provide your eyes well, only when he took a drag of his cigarette could you see the outlines of the lower half of his face. Even then, you didn’t risk staring, despite your- curiosity he was still your lieutenant.

It’s normal to be curious- you keep telling yourself. He’s your lieutenant; your point of call, your lifeline when you’re out there risking life and limb. Yet, you’ve never seen his face, would never be able to pick him out in a sea of hundreds. He doesn’t owe you anything, you’re new to his charge, under his wing so to speak, but you’re leading this mission with him and Johnny- the least you should be able to ask for is some truths. Everything about him is redacted, save for his name, even then that had been hard enough to get, apparently everything about him was on a need to know basis.

The man took a long-heavy drag of his cigarette. “How’s your head?” He asked flatly, his eyes trained forward as he spoke.

His voice might not have been loud, but you’d been in silence for hours, the gravely tone of his voice hammered straight through to your bones. You watched him out the corner of your eye.

“It’s fine” you said, not really wanting to elaborate in case he tried to catch you out.

Ghost hummed “you sure about that?” He queried, tone a little harder.

When you craned your neck to look at him fully this time you found he was already looking at you, his eyes pointedly focused on the tape holding the left side of your forehead together. You didn’t take your eyes away.

“I’m very sure” you reiterated, hoping he’d drop the subject, you had a feeling he wouldn’t.

“And the punctured lung?” You stiffened. How did he know? He pushed himself up from leaning back against the wall and turned his body so he was parallel to you now, his right hip leaning into the brick as his right elbow kept him propped there. He had let go of his cigarette, his lips keeping it secure as he continued to smoke it, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth.

You gathered your thoughts in your head, thinking of the best response you could give. The man spoke before you could.

“Your silence tells me a lot, sergeant” he huffed, taking ahold of his cigarette once more as he returned to his prior position, mirroring the way you faced forward. You kissed your lips against your teeth.

“I’m fine” you said again, you saw no point in trying to persuade him, he’d clearly already made up his mind.

Ghost made some kind of noise in the back of his throat and you heard him rooting for something in his pocket. You were surprised when a cigarette was held out towards you. You frowned, casting your eyes over to him to find he was still staring forward, mouth devoid of a cigarette and his free hand stuffed into his pocket, he’d clearly smoked it right down to the filter and ditched it.

How could you think you could lie to him? He’d seen first hand the pain you were in, so much pain you couldn’t see straight, blood staining your face as you fought for a singular breath to enter your lungs.

He was testing you now. If you refused the cigarette then he’d assume it was because you were still in pain with your lungs and chest, if you took it then perhaps he would lay off.

You made up your mind, brushing your fingers over his as you took the smoke from his hold. You placed it between your dry lips, you were still in your full gear and you knew you had a lighter somewhere, before you could start your search- Ghost already had you covered. His hand extended out toward your face with the flame dancing and licking at the breeze, you leaned in close and cupped both of your hands around his as it held the lighter, inhaling deeply as the earthy taste of the tobacco hit the back of your throat.

You’d smoked causally and socially throughout your entire army career, surely smoking through one cigarette without as much as a splutter would be easy enough.

Ghost retracted his hand and pocketed his lighter again, watching you smoke from the corner of his eye. You could feel his eyes on you, so you purposefully didn’t look his way, you gazed off into the pitch black, eyes struggling to focus on anything at all.

He stuffed both of his hand into his pockets, enjoying the quiet, listening only to the steady pattering of soft rain against the brick and concrete and the gentle sound of your steady breaths exhaling the smoke.

You weren’t about to admit that he was right, but he was right. The nicotine dried your lungs and the tickle of tobacco at the roof of your mouth and back of your throat had you gagging to cough, mixed with the subtle metallic taste of your own blood that still lingered on your palate. It wasn’t a delightful mix. You decided to distract yourself.

“Anyway, how come you aren’t asleep, Lt?” You asked, genuinely intrigued. The man quirked a brow, or at least, it looked like he did.

“Could ask the same to you” He was right but you asked first. You tutted.

“I’ve been with medical” you countered, thinking you’d caught him out.

“Three hours ago” he gifted flatly. Fuck. You shrugged him off.

“I lost track of time” you took his silence as his answer.

It was obvious that he hadn’t come out here just to smoke, there was something he needed to say, and you wished he would just spit it out. He shifted his stance, like he was in pain, you almost asked if he was okay, but thought better of it. He was more then capable of looking out for himself, when you were out in the field you’d worry and watch his six, back here- you’d leave him to it.

Ghost sighed “it’s been advised that you don’t ship out tomorrow” his words cut through you, his softened tone did nothing to soften the blow. You stiffened, shoulders squaring off as you took a deep inhale of the cigarette.

“On what grounds?” You asked quickly, tone shifting. He noticed.

“Medical” he spoke while looking at you pointedly, you laughed.

“Wow” you shook your head with a disbelieving smile “you take a little bump to the head these days and that gets you grounded?” Your question was entirely rhetorical, your head was the least severe of your injuries.

Ghost shifted his weight, still looking at you, watching as the emotions played out on your face. “listen to me-“ you cut him off.

“No, it’s bullshit” you stated with a scrunched frown creasing your face, still heaving plumes of smoke as you spoke.

“Oi” the lieutenant barked, making you freeze and look at him. “I’ve dismissed it” he said, his calm front falling back into place. Just another mask to add.

Your eyes blew wide. “You- what?” You asked, confused. He sighed, reaching over to pluck the cigarette from between your fingers, bringing it up to his own lips to take a drag.

“I think it’s best we finish what we started- all of us” he said, puffs of smoke escaping his lips between his words. He handed the cigarette back to you as he continued, watching as you brought it to your own lips to continue smoking it. “You handled the crash well” he said “would have had more fatalities if you hadn’t have helped when you did” it was clear that he believed what he was saying, you didn’t take Ghost as someone who minced his words, he said it how it was.

“Thank you” you said, simply, returning your gaze to the dark sky, rain still falling gently.

It took a few seconds for Ghost’s words to settle. You furrowed your brow in thought, offering the cigarette back to him, which he gladly took. A comfortable blanket of silence fell over you, the next few minutes were simply nothing. A void in conversation that wasn’t forced or awkward, it was just- natural. The two of you passed the cigarette between one another wordlessly, Ghost taking the longest and final drag till it was down to the end of the filter before he flicked it away, stomping it out with the heel of his boot. This signalled that it was time to call it a night, or a morning, you didn’t know what time it was. You pushed yourself down from the wall, groaning and cracking your joints as you stretched out, sitting in the cold for this long wouldn’t have done you any good.

Ghost pushed himself up from where he’d been leaning against the brick, now you were standing here, parallel to one another, you could see just how tall he was in comparison to you. Even the width of his shoulders were almost twice that of yours. You were forced to look up to meet his eyes, those cold-dead eyes of his. He tilted his chin down to see you clearer, that usual frown of his under the mask gone, no where to be seen. His expression was soft, almost content. You broke the silence.

“Thank you Lt” you said, watching the fabric over his brow furrow. “For not grounding me” you added. His eyes softened slightly.

“Don’t let me regret it” his voice was gruff, maybe even tired.

Your eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark, but he was so close you could faintly see the outline of his jaw and lips as he spoke. There was only a scant amount of space between you and him. You didn’t fight the urge to reach up your hand and pinch the mask where it was pushed up against his nose- yanking it down in one swift movement. He let you do it. Didn’t even move to stop you. “Better to keep your anonymity Lt” you said, smiling softly as you moved to walk past him and head toward the steps. He turned his shoulders slowly toward you.

“You know my name” he said flatly, barely amused by your attempt to joke with him.

He was right, you did know his name, but that took the fun out of it.

You sighed “Come on, Riley. Time to get some shut eye, before we get in trouble for being out here” you adopted a horrific Manchester accent as you spoke, whatever drugs that nurse had given you, they were pretty fuckin’ wicked. Ghost clearly didn’t agree, but he also didn’t correct you when you used his surname. That was a feat in itself.

“I’m a lieutenant, what the fuck are they gonna say to me?” he grumbled, mostly to himself, but you had heard him.

You laughed softly, something warm swelling in your chest. Your initial perception of him had been cold and disconnected, he presented himself as a man who existed solely for his role within the military. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, you were sure you’d find out. Your exchange with him this evening had showed you that he was observant and truly did value each and every soldier in his platoon. He wasn’t allowing you to be medically grounded because he believed you would be an asset to the continuation of this mission, if that man had any doubt about the severity of your injuries and the chance that you could slow them down- he would have you grounded in a heart beat. He was giving you a chance, and you were determined to show him he was right to trust you and your judgement.

You held onto this feeling as the two of you climbed the stairs, entering the halls of the barracks and parting ways to your respected quarters.

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frontlinebicepsoftheninth · 2 years ago

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so i went through and think i found every single title John is ever called throughout the series. i counted sixty-four in total and they follow patterns to a degree, patterns i'm sure someone well versed in classics would be able to draw references to but as far as i can break it down it seems like he gets called a variety of names mixed and matched from these:

- role titles: teacher, master, prince, king, lord, emperor, god, creator, resurrector (interestingly he's never just called "prince," that one always has an adjective attached)

plus

- adjectives: undying, everlasting, resurrecting, holy, divine, kindly, gentle, all-giving

or as the "[role] of":

- locations and events: the nine houses, the nine resurrections, the nine renewals, the house of the first

- people and concepts: dead kings, necromancers, saints, death, resurrection, the unstilled mandible, the sharpest edge

there are also several combative titles only used to describe his relationship with death:

- ransomer, vindicator, scourge

others present him as first and also as physically higher than something:

- first, first among, above, above death, over the river

lastly there are a few that are just any combination of two roles like "[role] our [role]" or "[role] the [role]", as well as two where the pattern is "the [role 1] who became [role 2] and the [role 2] who became [role 1]".

overall i think this is really effective characterization of not only john but the people referring to him, depending on what title they use. Teacher seems to use the most flowery and complex titles and multiple in a row, Harrow says "lord" most often, BOE just calls him by his full name, Ianthe says "god," etc. and a lot of worldbuilding detail is actually revealed from some of them.

full list below the cut (let me know if i'm missing any)!

John

J. G.

E. J. G.

John Gaius

Gaius

Teacher

Master

King

Lord

Emperor

God

Creator

Resurrector

Resurrection

Holy Prince

Most Holy Lord

Prince Undying

King Undying

Lord Undying

Emperor Undying

King Everlasting

King of Necromancers

King over the River

Lord over the River

Resurrector of Saints

Resurrecting Prince

Resurrecting King

Kindly Master

Kindly Emperor

Kindly Lord

Kindly Prince

Kindly Prince of Death

Prince of Death

Ransomer of Death

Scourge of Death

Vindicator of Death

First among Necromancers

Necromancer Divine

Adept Divine

Emperor Divine

Lyctor Divinely Ordained

Necrolord Prime

Necrolord Highest

God the Emperor

God of Dead Kings

God of the Unstilled Mandible

God of the Nine Houses

Lord of the Nine Houses

Emperor of the Nine Houses

Emperor of the Nine Resurrections

King of the Nine Renewals

Lord of the House of the First

Lord of Resurrection

Lord of the Sharpest Edge

Lord above Lords

Lord our Kindly God

Emperor our Lord

Emperor All-Giving

Gentle Emperor

The Emperor who became God and the God who became Emperor

The Man who became God and the God who became Man

First Reborn

God above Death

His Celestial Kindliness

Emperor John Gaius

BONUS (from Pyrrha): Mad bastard

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a-really-bad-decision · 2 years ago

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So funny to me when boe calls adepts 'wizards' (derogatory). Like they’re not even wrong, it just doesn’t begin to cover the whole *gestures vaguely at the waking nightmare that is the nine houses' standing army.*

I hear wizard, and the first thing I think is not ‘shock troopers who can suffocate you in putrid, pulsating globs of boiling fat pulled from the mangled remains of your dead comrades’. Or ‘soldiers who you definitely blew up a month ago appearing back on the battlefield with their organs regrown and and a functioning bone arm taped on where the missing limb should be’. Or ‘conquerors who arrived in a space ship powered by an obelisk covered with the ancient script of the unrestful dead and bathed constantly in fresh arterial blood while literal skeletons crawl over the hull like weevils’.

Fucking wizards. Love it. Keep being irreverent you crazy bastards.

#the locked tomb #the locked tomb spoilers #body horror cw #that post calling the nine houses’ military junji ito meets starship troopers nailed it so hard #they’re so cartoonishly evil looking from an outsider's pov #like boe probably barely even has to do anything to rile up the citizenry against them #forget the bone colonialism #the bones themselves are probably enough if these are the optics they’re bringing #john heard ‘be a bad wizard’ and said ‘cool turning that into a lifestyle choice for my new empire immediately actually’

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theoriginalmarke · 3 months ago

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MADE UP MONDAY

I've been concerned about those astronauts stranded at the space station thanks to the latest Boeing failures. They set sail that day for a three hour tour and the weather started getting rough. If not for the courage of the fearless crew the Minnow would be lost...

It's been announced that they're stuck up there until SpaceX picks them up next year. That's a long time to be sitting in a tin can far above the world. Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do...

Anyway. I've been working on someway to attach rockets to the motorcycle where the saddlebags are and replacing the gas tank with something larger. I think if I have a ramp with a just the right angle and I hit it with just enough speed I could ride the bike up to the space station.

I would dock with the station, grab a passenger, and ride back down. The trip back won't take much gas, once gravity takes hold. It may be a little bumpy though. Instead of splashing down in the ocean we'd have to decide on a long flat stretch of road to land on. Something like I-70 through Kansas, except they charge you a toll to use it. Bastards.

There's a problem with my plan though. The bike could only take the landing once, and since I can only bring one at a time that would still leave someone stranded up there. And not everyone is willing to "ride bitch," especially on a trip that far, so there's a chance I'd come back home empty handed. That would suck.

Maybe I'll just hold off for now. Besides, Amazon charges an arm and a leg to deliver rockets that fit the FJR out here.

Now if you'll excuse me I need to go drink some more rocket juice. Vroom vroom!

I love you, Kitten. To the moon and back. MWAH!

Y'all have a great day, and keep reaching for the stars.

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hils79 · 6 months ago

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Hils Watches Only Friends - Ep 12

Well I'm glad someone hasn't forgotten

That is not how rehab for alcohol addiction works. "It's okay if you have a little tipple but only if you're at home."

Oh please you were hitting on Mew literally 5 minutes ago

DUDE! Honestly, if I was Sand I would bail on both of them right the fuck now.

Look, normally I am in favour of a love triangle being solved with an OT3 but Boeing is the absolute worst and Sand deserves better.

GOOD!

This is a weird thing to add to the final episode of a drama. Things should be wrapping up not adding angst for the sake of it

Oh here we go. Mew about to tell them what Boeing did to him and Top. Chaos vengeance is back on the menu where is my popcorn

Hehe. It's funny because this is a drama

I mean he might not have sexually assaulted her brother but he still deserved to be slapped

I can't believe he just called rollerblading a vintage sport. Fuck, I'm old. I remember when rollerblades were a fancy new invention and everyone switched from skates to blades

YAY! The three of them teaming up to take down Boeing. I hope this is the last we will see of him

Oh no! I thought we were done with this. Well, I suppose he needs to fuck with Boston and Nick's admittedly cute 'let's be boyfriends until I love to the US' relationship

I mean they are basically the same person so sure. FFS Boston you couldn't keep it in your pants for a few weeks?

Honestly I think Nick's story is the most heartbreaking in this entire drama

Boston's like 'what all I did was stick my tongue in another man's mouth'

Sand speaks the truth

Wow okay I was not expecting them to make me cry yet here we are. Stupid emotions making me feel things.

I'm not sure a friendship group with this much fucked up history should be drunkenly playing truth or dare on New Year's Eve

Honestly you have to give props to Neo for playing such an unrepentant asshole so well. Look at him he's a puppy when he's not bastarding.

He is such a good boyfriend

Mew still a stone cold badass I see. Love it.

Nick is absolutely making the right decision but I'm still sad for reasons I don't even really understand. I think it's mostly Neo's puppy face

Uh...I was not expecting Top's hotel to catch fire 5 mins from the end wtf

I shouldn't laugh but they just evacuated an entire hotel and apparently these are the only people who were in the building

Oh, shit, I really shouldn't be laughing. I totally forgot Top has trauma from being involved in a fire when he was a kid

AHHHHHHHHHHHH! IT'S MIX! This just made my heart so happy!

You know what? I actually loved this drama! Everyone is a hot mess disaster gay but it was fun even when it was frustrating. I had a great time

And this is good timing because I'm going out of town tomorrow for my sister's wedding. I'll start a new drama when I get back in a few days

#hils watches #hils watches only friends #hils watches tdramas #only friends the series #only friends #tdrama

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battleangel · 5 months ago

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What About Killing Fields?

Michael Jackson literally screamed the title to this blog post in, Earth Song.

Please, go watch the video if youve never seen it before:

youtube

Why was Michael screaming the lyrics, literally screaming them, about killing fields trying to get through to us?

Trying to get through to our empathy?

Trying to make us give a fucking damn?

50k Palestinian civilians have been murdered in the genocide caused by Israel, funded by and weapons provided by the US & Boeing, since last October.

There is a pending famine caused purposely by the genocide that if it is not stopped by a PERMANENT ceasefire agreement will result in millions of deaths, including children.

They could unblock the bridge from Egypt to Rafah today.

They dont want to.

You do know who they is.

They could deliver emergency flotillas to feed all of the starving Palestinians today.

Are you claiming that the US has 4.3 billion dollars a year to fund Israels genocide but doesnt have money to deliver food to a few million starving Palestinians at risk of being murdered by a forced famine?

So, why dont they?

Instead, we have flour massacres (look it up), where starving Palestinians promised aid are literally gunned down by the IDF terrorists for attempting to obtain food that was promised to them.

It has happened again and again.

Palestinian starving civilians promised food and then murdered and gunned down in cold blood the moment they try to obtain literally life-saving food.

Netanyahu is purposely starving them and not allowing food and aid in.

Netanyahu is literally blocking the flotilla, the bridge from Egypt into Palestine and the emergency aid trucks all filled with food just sitting as millions of Palestinians, including children, are forced to literally eat cattle feed to survive.

Its not like dog food.

It is absolutely inedible for humans yet there are videos on social media of children choking down cattle feed.

What about killing fields?

But all Americans care about at a mass level are their 4th of July plans.

Why the fuck would you ever want to “celebrate” the “birth” of a nation that is white supremacist, colonialist, racist, misogynist, fascistic, built off of police brutality, slavery of Africans with no restitution or reparations free slave labor with no wages ever paid to anyone that built this nation, Christofascist, zionist, Greco-Roman, Eurocentric, ancient Egypt denying, Kemet denying, melanin denying, appropriating from Black people our music that we created - country (look it up), jazz, blues, rhythm & blues, rock (not Elvis - look it up), ofcourse hip hop & rap, reggae, soca, etc — our culture, our cornrows, our braids, our dreads, our hair, our Kanekalon, our Senegalese twists everything just becomes a fashion statement for the Kardashians — misappropriation of our culture and constantly stealing from us then lying about it and erasing us from the history — Disney stole designs from a black creator designer & cartoonist who was never credited (look it up) — why do you think there are so many examples of this?

Africa — Kemet which is ancient Egypt — is the birthplace of humanity.

Ancient Egyptians developed roads, highways, infrastructure, irrigation, aqueduct systems, modern medicine (look it up), modern surgery techniques, modern embalming techniques, astrology, math, art, history, astronomy, philosophy all before the Greeks & Romans & “Enlightenment” yet look who gets credited for inventing these things.

Jesus is a bastardized Horus from Kemet from ancient Egypt, it is a 1:1 bastardization and shit retelling, everything from dying and rising again the third day.

Look it up.

They removed all the wisdom, esotericism, knowledge of the self, mysticism, magick and replaced it with fear, dogma, control, a fake white guy with a beard, a Santa Claus in the skies sitting on a fake ass throne judging you for hooking up on Tinder last Saturday.

Yet you question nothing.

They say they dont know how the pyramids were built and that “even today” we do not have the technology the ancient Egyptians had and that the stones of the pyramid were built so close together that you cannot even slide a debit card through them.

Yet you question nothing.

You dont question why the capstone is missing on top of the pyramid or why it is on the back of the US $1 bill, the default global currency, with an eye above it.

Still you question nothing.

Look up the Eye of Ra.

Go read the lyrics of Earth Song while listening to MJ then come back:

youtube

79% of plastic that has ever been made still sits in landfills or the natural environment.

It takes 400 years for plastic to break down in a landfill.

Did you process that?

Every sanitary pad, every pantyliner, every plastic tampon applicator, every plastic utensil, every Red Solo cup, every Dixie cup, every plastic plate, every plastic water bottle, every Ziploc bag, every plastic cap to your toothpaste tube, every plastic potato chip bag, every plastic wrapper, every plastic medicine bottle, every single plastic K-cup for your daily morning coffee.

Every time you use a washing machine to wash your laundry, it causes microplastics that are released and end up in oceans.

Single use plastic is absolutely ubiquitous.

There have been 9.1 billion tons of plastic produced since throwaway culture was introduced in the 1950s and disposable plastic was introduced for the first time.

Plastic is actually extremely durable, they just didnt want it to be.

You do know who they is.

Why the 50s?

Because WWII had just ended and they needed something to mass produce now that they no longer needed to mass produce for the war.

So, single use plastic was introduced and marketed to the masses as convenient, time saving, modern and more hygienic.

Just how retirement was marketed as “golden years” — still pathetically parroted today — by a marketer.

Look it up. Also in the 1950s.

Prior to this marketing campaign, retirement was dreaded as a period of decline in health.

The marketing campaign shifted this to the golden years of your life.

It was a marketing campaign built to push retirement living and communities and it not only worked but the pathetic idea of working your entire life to “finally be able to do what you want for ten years max” is somehow still around today.

Brainwashing, grooming, conditioning, indoctrination centers.

Seductive marketing, hypnotic messaging, brainwashing techniques in advertising.

Psyops.

Same with homeownership being the “American Dream”.

Look it up.

It was started as a marketing campaign at the beginning of the 1900s by a president of a real estate company.

The marketing campaign proved so successful that starting with FDR’s New Deal, the United States government started pushing and promoting home ownership as quintessential to the American Dream.

Today, 94% of Americans believe that owning a home is a quintessential part of the American dream.

Brainwashed. Indoctrinated. Conditioned. Groomed.

Its actually taking on hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt, signing your life away for 20 to 30 years when you have no control over the housing market or economy.

Have you all already forgotten about Lehman Brothers, subprime mortgages and the housing collapse PURPOSELY CAUSED in 2008 by lenders providing loans to borrowers whom they knew would be unable to pay the loans back thus causing a housing market collapse and allowing the same lenders to buy back these subprime loans and pocket billions while the housing market and economy crashed and millions lost their homes and jobs?

Were you alive in 2008?

If not, look it up.

So, its a losing proposition, owning a home.

A HELOC is taking on more debt even if you borrow against the equity in your home in the form of a loan, you will have to pay the loan back with interest.

No thanks.

Even if you are clever and invest in upgrading your home, rent it out, make money off of it as a rental property or invest in it and flip it and profit it off of it or if you pay the loan off over 20 or 30 years, do upgrades to the home, then sell it for a significant profit, so what?

How the fuck is that a “dream”?

You just made money, who the fuck cares?

That doesnt explain the promotion of home ownership as a quintessential part of the American dream.

WHAT American dream???????

Meritocracy???????????

Most of the wealth in America is owned by white people as they concentrate the wealth then pass it on to their future generations and bloodline through estate planning and wills that transfers real estate and assets from wealthy parents to their children.

Wash rinse repeat.

How the fuck is that a meritocracy?????

Blacks are 13% of the population yet we make up over 80% of the prison population.

Meritocracy???????????

Poverty in America is overwhelmingly endured by Black and brown minorities.

Most of the youth in foster care are Black and brown.

Foster care youth end up houseless and imprisoned at an enormously higher rate.

What leads to being placed in foster care other than racist policies and being Black and brown?

Substance use by parents and parents becoming houseless.

What overwhelmingly causes substance use and houselessness?

Poverty.

Yet we still have never addressed poverty in America.

How hard would it be to take the Earned Income Tax Credit that right now goes to parents with children that own a home, take that money and repurpose it to a Universal Basic Income (UBI) that provides each American adult 18 and over with a $1k a month?

They have done studies that have shown that even $500 a month — and if we have $4 billion to send to Israel every year to kill innocent Palestinian civilians dont tell me we dont have $500 a month for every adult in the US — significantly improved the lives of families in poverty — they stopped skipping meals, they stopped undereating, starving, eating sugar sandwiches and dry cereal for dinner, they stopped avoiding getting needed urgent medical care, they stopped smoking to suppress their appetite (this is well documented, look it up), they stopped drinking as self medication, they stopped eating cheap shitty fast food and frozen meals — and surprise, surprise their quality of life went way up.

For $500 fucking dollars.

And surprise, surprise, they dont want that.

And you do know who they is.

Every year, the world produces nearly 400 million tons of plastic, a 19,000% increase from 1950.

The amount is forecast to double by 2050 and 90% is never recycled.

Over half of the plastics produced are used only once, for things like packaging, utensils and straws.

This is why the fight long termism and they dont want you googling Claudia Karina 2024.

They dont want you thinking 100, 250 and 500 years from now.

Everything is the now, everything is the moment, everything disposable, everything ephemeral, everything throwaway.

Almost 30,000 coffee pods go to landfill each month and take 500 years to decompose.

All that for a fucking cup of coffee?

Be so serious.

The fast fashion industry is the second-biggest consumer of water and is responsible for about 10% of global carbon emissions – more than all international flights and maritime shipping combined.

It’s a form of throwaway culture called fast fashion, which produces 92 million tons of waste annually on a global scale.

All to save a few bucks on a shittily designed outfit on Shein by workers that are underpaid working 12 to 16 plus hour shifts and if they make more than a few mistakes per MONTH, they have their pay docked.

But who cares as long as your fit is cute and cheap, right?

Humans have evolved to live on this planet – life on other planets, while technically possible, is undesirable, unhealthy and constrained.

Which ofcourse is Lord Elon & Lord Bezos’ plan — destroy Earth for Amazon Prime 1 Day Sales & Teslas EVs.

Then on to the next planet after they hump, pump and dump Earth.

Do I really have to tell you that only rich wypipo — who caused the destruction of Earth — will be along for the ride to Mars or wherever the fuck planet these sociopaths are planning to colonize next?

The poor, impoverished, disabled, and especially elderly and ofcourse Black & brown people will be left behind except for those who manage to make a deal with the devil, sell the souls and board the Galaxy Express to the next destination of destruction.

Stop driving your car.

Burning fossil fuels is one of the biggest drivers and contributors of climate change.

Need to drive to get to work?

Look into remote options, freelance and/or start your own business online at home.

Ride a bike or a scooter, walk, take a bus or public transportation.

Or just dont go out.

You dont have to shop, socialize, eat, “hang out”, go to the movies.

Do your hair yourself or shave it bald like I do every 3 to 6 months.

I only paid for the razor, after that it is free99 for me to shave my own head:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRES93oT/

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRESVh9T/

If youre a woman or femme and afraid of the reactions, watch my above TikToks.

Question why they are reacting.

Question why you care.

Youve been programmed.

Do it anyway.

If you want color, use chalk dyes as they are temporary and wash out after one use and do not have harmful chemicals dyes and toxins as most salon & store bought vegan dyes do.

Or just slap on a shitty cheap wig if you want some color and variety. I bought a $20 wig two years ago that I wear if I want a colorful lewk.

Thats not wasteful.

Thats not buying a new wig every month or every 3 months. Or going to the salon every month or every 3 months. Or buying hair dyes or getting my hair colored every 3 months.

Deprogram yourself.

Cargill produces 11 billion pounds of beef a year.

11 billion. Every year.

Play Earth Song by Michael again.

Cargill made $170 billion last year.

Nothing is ever enough.

The essence of capitalism.

Nothing is ever enough under capitalism.

They are willing to light the world on fire and watch it burn as long as they can continue to grow faster, bigger, stronger, more acquisitions, more money, more wealth, more employees, bigger share prices, higher on the fortune 500, number one meat processor, made triple what Tyson Foods made, made $60 billion more than second closest competitor.

You do know who they is.

There is no price they arent willing to pay to be number one in a capitalist market, no corner they wont cut, no practice they wont stoop to, no low they wont lower themselves to, no lie they wont tell, no animal they wont mistreat/torture/drug/feed with hormones/breed & impregnate endlessly/crowd in overcrowded pens & stalls/terrify/decapitate while alive due to stun guns not working/decapitate up to six times before it works as it is a machine that is an imperfect process and the cow is alive for each attempt/feed dead cows to living cows to save money on feed/not allow them room to walk or move much less provide them with pastures open air sky sun water land.

What about yesterday?

What about disease?

No low is too low when there are profits to be made & shareholders to satisfy.

Trump snorted Adderall during the filming of The Apprentice. Theres actual documentation of this.

Watch the video of Trump with pupils f u l l y dilated and fucking blown like a full out fucking meth head slurring the words, “I love everybody”, and tell me hes not snorting Adderall, doing meth and potentially coke.

After WWII, between 1945 and 1949, 20 million refrigerators, 21.4 million cars, and 5.5 million stoves were purchased by American households.

World War II had just ended, families had more disposable income on their hands, and more spending power.

Marketing. Programming. Shiny. New. Ironmen. Fitter. Iron lungs.

There was a huge push from the oil industry to get plastic single-use items adopted widely. For Mobil Chemical (now ExxonMobile), it was all about the plastic bags. During the 1960s they had been patenting all the plastic bag ideas they could. By 1977 they were producing their own brand of plastic bags.

Exxon Mobil created a Plastic Grocery Sack Council in 1985 to get customers to use plastic sacks widely.

Same with retirement being the “golden years” and purchasing a house “being the American dream”.

94% of adult Americans say they identify home ownership as a quintessential part of the American dream.

So, who created the concept since it is so ubiquitous in American society & culture?

The first president of the US League of Local Building & Loan Associations in the 1890s.

Pure propaganda.

Its literally a hundred fucking years of propaganda.

What about the “golden years” of retirement?

Instead of dreaded years of decline, Del Webb revolutionized retirement in America to be something people desired and longed for.

Through the magic of marketing, retirement no longer only meant the end of work. Del Web cleverly sold retirement as the beginning of a new and even better life.

Ten fucking years of retirement is a “life”?

Youve been programmed.

Del Web was simply marketing his retirement communities and rebranded what Americans thought of retirement as.

Look up “Sun City” communities.

Thats why youre slaving your life away at a job you either dont like, hate, or apathetic about, indifferent to, which is literally designed to overwork you, overwhelm you, shut you down, attack your psyche, attack your aura, energy vampires draining your energy, exhausting you, constant pointless masturbatory meetings, constant slacks, IMs, emails, notis.

Constant demands to break you as a person.

Its mindbreaking.

The 9 to 5.

Look up why cubicles were “invented” in the 1960s.

Wake up.

Freelance. Start your own business. Create social media content.

Do what you want now, not when youre 65.

What happens if you die at 64?

The entire idea people predicate their lives on — that they should study hard get good grades graduate; get a good job work hard save for retirement; ten years max before they die “enjoy their golden years” aka retirement.

Wake up.

Per Google:

• Extreme heat waves can cause mood swingsand other psychological effects that can impact mental health:

• Mood changes: Heat waves can cause irritability, anxiety, depression, and impulsivity.

• Cognitive issues: Heat waves can cause trouble concentrating, memory problems, and slowed reaction times.

• Sleep disruption: Heat waves can make it difficult to sleep, which can contribute to mood fluctuations and worsen mental health conditions.

Its an added benefit for them on top of the record profits that cause the climate change that cause the extreme weather, heat waves & poor air quality.

Its not just bad for the environment.

They are aware of the effects as these studies have been around for years.

They want people disordered, addicted, depressed, anxious, overworked, mind body imbalance, severed from nature, obsessed, stressed, never self actualizing, never ascending.

Watch the Earth Song video by MJ:

youtube

Understand why he is literally screaming.

Screaming to get through to us.

Do we give a damn?

Really listen at 2:58.

Hes trying to get through to our collective empathy.

Screaming!

Almost 30 years later after this song and video was released, all of these questions can be posed to us today.

Every issue has gotten worse, not better.

Do we give a damn?

Look at the destruction all around MJ in the video.

Look at the destruction weve caused.

Ecological destruction.

Look at the trees surrounding MJ as he screams for empathy, screams for justice, screams for mother Earth, screams for our humanity.

Do we give a damn?

Are we so cruel, so indifferent, so apathetic, so numb to our own beautiful planets destruction?

Who cares, right? We’ll just go destroy another.

And another. And another…

There’ll always be another Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, Tim Cook, Trump, J.D. Rockefeller, Ford.

There will always be another leviathan and titan of industry.

Always be more strongmen and ironmen.

Why do you think that is?

Who are the Reptilians?

Who are the inhabitants that live INSIDE the middle of the earth controlling our politics and elections.

Even you are aware that our elections arent actually free or they wouldnt allow them.

Thats why theres never a change.

Trump and Biden again?

The inhabitants of the middle of the planet control the Reptilians — world political leaders and industry titans and leviathans and military leaders.

They ensure that humanitys consciousness never ascends on a mass level and that there is no mass ascension which would lead to a planetary ascension which would remove the grid that the inhabitants of the earth placed there to suppress our mass consciousness and awakening, to keep our third eyes closed and to keep us and our planet from self actualizing from the current third dimension to the tenth dimension.

Do you know who “they” is?

Watch Futurama and actually understand that what is presented to you as “jokes” are the dark entities controlling the dark empaths that currently rule our world.

The Bidens, Trumps, Netanyahus, Blinkens, Jamie Dimons, Elon Musks, Jeff Bezoses, Roger Goodells, Vince McMahons, Tim Cooks, Bill Gates.

All white men — have you ever wondered why that is?

Even Obama descends from the same UK royal bloodline that all US Presidents have descended from.

Look it up.

They’re Reptilian.

The tens of thousands of animal species that WE humans have made go extinct.

1 species — human — is not more worthy than even ONE animal species.

Yet we have made over 75 PERCENT of animal species go extinct with our enviornmentally destructive and capitalist driven practices.

Yet people have the AUDACITY to call ME a terrorist?

Im an "ecoterrorist" because I am for the VOLUNTARY extinction of the human race?

Then what are they when they are okay with the extinction of tens of thousands of animal species by ONE disgustingly destructive species — HUMAN — to the extent that over 75 PERCENT of all animal species that have ever existed on Earth are now extinct because of US, humanity!

THEY are the terrorists, NOT me!

I want the Earth saved and humanity extinct.

They want what Elon & Bezos wants — the destruction of Earth and then humans, just like the Borg, just move to the next planet and fucking destroy it and I dont want that.

There has been no reversal of these consumerist, capitalist, overconsumption, maximalist, climate change causing contributing & accelerating, ecologically destructive, environmentally harmful, rainforest destroying, landfill filling business practices.

THEY are financially rewarded so the practices continue and the Earth continues to die!

Resources continue to be overextracted.

The global south continues to be exploited by the capitalist west as they do not have labor laws, union protections or environmental regulations so cheap stuff is made there, their resources are overextracted, they are overworked and underpaid, they are not given protective gear, they die, they get poisoned, they get sick, women and children working and dying in cobalt mines for iPhones!

Women and children working and dying in cobalt mines in Congo for iPhones!

Women and children working and dying in diamond mines in Senegal for engagement rings!

Humanity in the capitalist west continues to overconsume, be materialistic, wasteful, overspend, to impress others, for clout, to flex, for status, for prestige, for privilege, to “treat themselves”, to “spoil themselves”, to numb themselves, to feed their addictions, to feed their disordered behaviors, to fill their emptiness, to give themselves a sense of identity, in an endless quest for meaning, to overcompensate, because they are depressed, stressed, pressed, obsesed, anxious, bored, listless, lethargic, lack empathy, addicted to shopping, retail therapy, numbing their emotions, adrenaline rush of a new purchase getting something on sale discount rack BOGO FOMO new shoes new dress new makeup new pocketbook for that hit of adrenaline for that instant pick me up.

Instant mood changer, instant happiness, instant smile, instant distraction, instant swipe of the credit card, instant swipe of Apple Pay, instant swipe of your phone, instant rush, instant adrenaline, instant high, instant hit, instant junkie.

Addicted to excess, consumption, consumerism, materialism, shopping, malls, outlets, discounts, sales, department stores, fast fashion, Zaful, Romwe, Fashion Nova, Shein, Forever 21, H&M, Macys, Bloomingdales, Express, Old Navy, Aeropostale, Abercrombie.

Addicted addicts.

Never a thought to the resources used to produce the item being purchased.

Never a thought to the fuel being wasted to deliver the item being purchased to the shopping mall or store or outlet or straight to your home via Amazon Prime.

Never a thought to the climate change impact, carbon footprint contribution, fossil fuels burned, impact to the ozone layer, air quality deteriorating, heat waves worsening, natural disasters increasing.

The earth dying.

Killing fields, Forever 21, forever in a landfill.

Never a thought.

The bible which is bastardized kemet and is used as a tool of control claims that Adam & Eve have “dominion” over the animals and earth and that fake shit has been used to justify everything: throwaway culture & single use plastics on the 50s, fast food in the 50s, fast fashion in the 2000s.

Wear an outfit once, throw it away.

Use plastic utensils once, throw them away.

Use your iPhone once, oh theres a pink one now and this blonde golfer and this couple are telling me to buy it through Tmobile or Verizon, time to trade in my perfectly working current iPhone for a new one because its pink.

I mean, because it has 8 cameras on the back and not 7.

I mean, because it has FaceTime.

I mean, because I want to react “Haha” to my friends texts and I dont want to be left out.

Killing fields.

Electronic waste from discarded iPhones end up in Southeast Asia poisoning local communities, water supply and air quality but it is kept from the American public.

Congo killing mines killing women and children for the cobalt that powers the batteries in iPhones, electric vehicles, Apple watches & TVs are kept from the public.

Genocides & killing fields.

iPhone 15s.

Cruises are allowed to dump their waste directly into the ocean.

Cruisin USA.

Via foe.org:

If you guessed a large portion of it ends up in the oceans, you’d be correct. Sadly, U.S. laws do not do enough to protect our bodies of water. It allows cruise ships to dump waste into the ocean as long as the ships are more than three and a half miles offshore. That means that dirty water from sinks and showers and laundry facilities are discharged into the water. It means that waste from toilets is discharged into the water. And it also means that food waste is also dumped into the ocean.

What about killing fields?

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doyou000me · 1 year ago

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"We can have a poolparty."

There is just so so so much going on here. There's the parallell with episode 2. There's Ray challenging Boeing. There's the "fuck it, let's see what this bastard's got."

In a way, I think Boeing is the kind of person who could appreciate Ray's brand of crazy. He'd probably be impressed if he got to hear about the party where Ray outed everyone's shit, from the stage, with a mic.

Ray... well, I don't know if Ray would like Boeing, but something tells me that they would love snapping and poking at each other.

Sand, obviously, finds both of them attractive.

With everything going on in this scene, with the tension and antagonism and Sand being torn but also so so fucking tired, my brain has now, after all these episodes, been rewired to go:

Threesome?

#only friends the series #only friends #only friends ep 11 #sandray #only friends ray #only friends sand #only friends boeing

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imminentinertia · 4 months ago

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Favourite Kiss Game

I was tagged by @elimstillnotgarak 💖

Rules: create a poll with five of your all time favorite onscreen kisses, setting any standard for qualification you choose. Then tag more friends to join in!

It's a pretty men please sort of day so the category is:

Scenes that made me near-scream (and possibly clutch a cushion a bit too hard so some of the filling was shedded) when the pretty guys kissed

Propaganda under the readmore:

The drunken delight kiss: Jaeyoung and Sangwoo in Semantic Error

Thank you for delivering, drunk Sangwoo. Semantic Error is one of my all time favourite shows - cinematography, script, pacing, everything ffs - and they even got kissing right.

The beautifully heated beach kiss involving several fingers: Tongrak and Mahasamut in Love Sea

That was fucking hot. All the kissing scenes in Love sea are fucking hot. You show them how it's done, Fort and Peat (and Mame and the directors of Mame's shows, because stiff sad kissing is one hundred percent the fault of producers and directors, it's a directorial choice).

(This spot in the poll could have been the reunion kiss in Pornographer: Playback, by the way, but do you have any idea how difficult it is to search for a gif with those words? Anyway, same level of screaming)

The threesome that sadly didn't happen: Boeing, Sand and Ray in Only Friends

The poly kissing scene in Deep Night is lovely, but it made me coo, not scream. This made me scream (the word "yes!", to be specific, quickly followed by "no!" when they didn't go through with it). It was glorious while it lasted. Good god what a magnificent bastard Boeing is, Ray is mad as hell and Sand would just like to know what's going on (and possibly fuck kiss Boeing some more).

The only underwater kiss I approve of: Isak Valtersen and Even Bech Nesheim in SKAM

I don't like underwater kisses. I've kissed underwater myself and it was awful, and that was actually in nice proper seawater and not half water, half chlorine like most pools are. However, Isak and Even's kiss is so beautifully filmed that I can't help but love it, and the entire scene with them breaking into the indoor pool and bickering until they push/pull each other into the water, eventually getting caught by a small child, is genius.

The somewhat dubious consent: Gao Shi De and Zhou Shu Yi in We Best Love - Fighting Mr. 2nd

Fuck me UP. Shi De tossing Shu Yi's bag aside and Shu Yi onto the divan. Shi De's hands holding Shu Yi so carefully up and especially roaming Shu Yi's face. This is hands down the best on-screen kiss in the history of on-screen kisses to me, and number 2 on the list doesn't even come close. Sam Lin does an amazing job here - Yu too, by all means, but it's Sam Lin's masterpiece of acting.

Also please note that Sam is lying fully down on Yu. I often get annoyed with scenes where there's half a metre between the actors' torsos when one is supposed to be sort of lying on the other. Get close.

Bonus: the scene ends with a cut to Gao Shi De's underwater scream and that's something that beats all silly chlorinated underwater kisses (except one) to me.

@modestytreehouse, @fille-lioncelle, @yujeong, @nofeartina, @peacestew - if you'd like to do this and haven't already?

#favourite kiss game #tag game

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aristoteliancomplacency · 5 months ago

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In 2018 a whole bunch of these rich bastards exceeded even the worst celebrity in terms of private-travel-related CO2 emissions. And holy shit! Look at the private fucking yacht emissions in comparison! Genuinely did not expect that. What the actual fuck. Literally ban private fucking yachts. Labour do you hear me I will vote for you if you put it in your manifesto that you will make private fucking yachts illegal.

(Nb: this data is not showing the absolute worst people: this is a “random” sample of 20 people out of a larger set, and even the larger set excludes probably some of the absolute worst offenders bc they’re too private and the data isn’t there for most of the super rich in Asia and the Middle East).

(Values are in terms of tons of CO2 equivalent.)

Source

Abramovich cruises the Mediterranean in his superyacht, named the Eclipse, which at 162.5 meters bow to stern is the second-biggest in the world, rivaling some cruise ships. And he hops the globe on a custom-designed Boeing 767, which boasts a 30-seat dining room. He takes shorter trips in his Gulfstream G650 jet, one of his two helicopters or the submarine on his yacht.

He maintains homes in many countries, including a mansion in London’s Kensington Park Gardens, a chateau in Cap D’Antibes in France and a 28-hectare estate in St. Barts that once belonged to David Rockefeller. In 2018, he left the U.K. and settled in Israel, where he became a dual citizen and bought a home in 2020 for $64.5 million.

We estimate that he was responsible for at least 33,859 metric tons of CO2 emissions in 2018 – more than two-thirds from his yacht, which is always ready to use at a moment’s notice year-round.

(Roman Abramovich also made most of his money in oil and gas so also kinda like fuck him in particular)

#NO ONE NEEDS A 30 SEAT DINING ROOM ON THEIR PLANE. NO. ONE.#(Values are in terms of tons of CO2 equivalent.)

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takonei · 6 months ago

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After months of being distracted, I'm finally done with the refs for the new BoE characters I added for Artfight, and this time I'm also posting them here!

Behold, the Aguja Dorada folks for Bastards of Ethuline! In order: Carmine, Viridian, Hollin, Titania and Teri. (None of them have last names, btw) The first four I had already teased, but the fifth went a bit under the radar. I really need to introduce them properly someday, but in the meantime there will be info about them on my Artfight page once I'm done adding all of them.

Oh, by the way, these aren't the only new characters I'll add to Artfight this year. I'm still cooking a little surprise thing ;)

#my art #oc #bastards of ethuline #carmine #viridian #hollin #titania #teri

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paradoxcase · 10 months ago

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John 19:18

THE TOWER HAS R

Since normal humans can't do anything like this anyway and it doesn't seem like John has at this point in the story actually consumed anyone's soul, I guess by "the old difficult way" he's referring to his power level from before that happened, during the part of the story that we're reading now?

This is a piece of land that John just raised from the bottom of the ocean, but it already has a building and a car on it. I guess some flooding happened when the world ended? Also, I think that car is probably all dead, insert Miracle Max reference here

So, it's not like surprising or a revelation at this point, but here is positive evidence that a body can be physically alive and even healthy, but if it doesn't have a soul in it, it's not really living. I think if BOE had observed Gideon's body to be physically alive in some way but lacking a soul they would have described it differently; Gideon's body probably has some big holes in it because of the fence at this point, or at least it probably did at the time that BOE had it, so it wouldn't have been like Ulysses and Titania here, but it's not clear what the extent of Gideon's immortality is, exactly, if it means inconvenient holes get repaired or if she can be alive in spite of inconvenient holes, or what

Also, here we have that true resurrection doesn't just involve the physical act of repairing someone's body and starting it up again in some way, there has to be some element of retrieving a soul, presumably from the River

So whatever this is, I don't think anyone is using it 10,000 years later. The Nine Houses uses this stele system, which seems to be related to radio somehow, but you can't use it to go somewhere that's far away from a stele and they do know where they wind up. And BOE went out of their way to steal a ship with a stele just so they could use FTL travel, so they obviously don't have another means. I wonder what happened with this idea that caused it to be abandoned? Like, obviously the trillionaires who went off in their FTL ships did survive and I guess maybe became some of these other civilizations that John's fighting against, so it must have at least worked a little bit. But the stuff about "oscillating to a prearranged spectrum" makes me wonder if it isn't actually related to the steles at all? Or Augustine was right and there was no FTL at all

Also, I wonder if John does understand the math now after 10,000 years

This seems like such a weird argument to make? Like, I'm not sure if this interaction is happening in public or not. If it's a public thing, I can see them being like, this guy killed a bunch of poor innocent cows, how can we trust him??? but it sounds like a lot of this was private negotiations between John and the trillionaires, I think in those circumstances they wouldn't be talking about the poor innocent cows and would instead be saying things about how it's not a good investment, I don't think any trillionaires are going to be pretending to care about cows for just John's sake. And I mean, one of those guys is probably Elon Musk, right, can you see Elon Musk making this argument to anyone in any context? I really cannot

So again, it's sort of framed as being about the Earth, specifically, and not about the people and animals living on it... although, if this is Alecto's memory of John telling this story to her maybe he is phrasing everything that way for her benefit? Like obviously the greater injustice was leaving all of the people behind. The only real difference between what the trillionaires did and what John was planning to do was in how many people escaped, right? Like, John wasn't out there fighting oil companies and pollution either. Maybe when someone takes the ships you were planning to use to leave instead it's just easier to say "you abandoned the Earth, you cowards!" instead of "you left us behind, you bastards!" because then it's easier to claim the moral high ground, but I think they already could do that, since they were planning to take everyone and that was the whole point?

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth

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shewasverynice · 2 months ago

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Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga)呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime) MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Full warnings on Chapter links post

Major Characters: Original Characters, Gojo Satoru, Getou Suguru, Nanami Kento, Itadori Yuuji, Hakari Kinji

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Chapter 22 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Rin’s heart raced as she stepped into the silent halls of Yaga’s headquarters. The usual bustle was gone, replaced by an eerie stillness that sent chills down her spine. She had just returned from a string of exhausting, fruitless meetings with their contacts, desperate to secure a safe haven for the women of Tenjiku. But now, as she entered the dimly lit corridor, something felt deeply wrong.

She barely had time to process the unsettling atmosphere before Nanami appeared, his expression grim and urgent. Without a word, he took her by the hand, leading her swiftly into a small room. He locked the door behind them, the click of the lock echoing in the stillness.

Before Rin could ask what was happening, Nanami pulled her into a fierce embrace. His lips found hers, and he kissed her deeply, almost desperately. She could feel the tension in his body, the way his hands trembled as they held her close. He buried his face in her neck, his breath warm and ragged against her skin as he just held her, clinging to her as if she was his last tether to sanity.

Finally, Rin whispered, her voice soft and worried, "What’s wrong?"

Nanami hesitated, his hold on her tightening as if he feared letting her go would mean losing her forever. Then, with a voice that was barely more than a hoarse whisper, he admitted, "I’m afraid, Rin."

The admission sent a jolt of fear through her. Nanami, the steady rock she had always relied on, was afraid. "What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. "All those plans we dreamed of, all those things we wanted to do together—we have to do them now, Rin. We can’t wait anymore. It’s all falling apart."

Rin’s heart pounded in her chest as he told her everything—about Yaga’s death, the chaos that had erupted in the aftermath, Gojo’s unraveling, and Geto’s insidious attempt to turn Gojo against him. The weight of it all crashed down on her like a tidal wave, leaving her breathless and furious.

Rin’s fists clenched, her anger flaring up like a wild fire. "That bastard! I’ll—"

Nanami gently placed a hand on her cheek, calming her with his touch. "No, Rin. You need to keep a level head. Getting angry won’t help us now." His voice was firm but laced with desperation, "I need you to get somewhere safe. I’ll come find you as soon as I can."

Rin shook her head, her eyes fierce. "I can’t just leave, Kento." She said, "The others need me. I have to protect them, and I have to find Boe and Sarah."

Nanami’s expression darkened. "Rin, Sarah has consumed all of Sukuna’s fingers," he said quietly, "She’s losing herself, and Boe… Boe is missing. No one knows where she is. This place… it’s not safe for you. There’s nothing but danger here."

Rin’s breath caught in her throat, the gravity of the situation hitting her like a blow. But she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t abandon the women she had sworn to protect, the friends who had become her family. "I have to stay, Kento. I need to protect them."

Nanami’s grip on her hands tightened, his eyes pleading with her, "Rin, please. If anything happened to you—"

Rin shook her head firmly. "I’ll only agree to leave if you promise to help me get the others out first," she said, holding his gaze, "I can’t leave them behind."

Nanami’s jaw clenched as he struggled with the decision. He knew the danger, the risks, but he also knew he couldn’t force her to leave. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nodded. "Alright," he relented, "We’ll get them out together. But after that, you need to get to safety. Promise me."

Rin hesitated, her heart heavy with the weight of the promise she was about to make. But she knew it was the only way. "I promise, Kento."

They stood there for a moment, holding each other in the silence of the small room, knowing that the world outside was teetering on the edge of chaos. And in that moment, they made a silent vow to each other—to survive, to protect those they loved, and to fight for the future they had once dreamed of, even if it meant facing the darkness head-on.

Without preamble, Rin asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside her, "Do you know where Sarah is now?"

Nanami looked at her, his expression one of measured concern. He hesitated, and she could see the conflict in his eyes. "Rin," he began, choosing his words carefully, "I’m not sure exactly where she is, but… she’s already wiped out the Gojo clan. According to Gojo, she’s likely hunting down any of them who weren’t at the estate that night."

Rin didn’t flinch at the news. There was a grim set to her mouth, a hardness in her eyes that spoke of a resolve long settled. "I knew this was going to happen," she murmured, her voice quiet but unshaken, "In a sick way, I’m glad she got her revenge."

But beneath that resolve was a flicker of something else—concern, maybe even fear for her friend. "If Sarah is losing herself, I need to help her get back to normal," Rin insisted, her tone softening as she looked up at Nanami.

Nanami’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. "Rin… Gojo could stop her," he admitted, his voice low, "But whether he’ll choose to do it… that’s the hard part."

Rin’s jaw tightened, her emotions a tangled mess. "I hate him, Nanami," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly, "But if there’s even a chance that talking to him could help Sarah, I’m willing to do it."

Nanami’s hand found hers, his grip firm but gentle, anchoring her. "It’s better if you stay far away from Gojo and Geto, especially right now," he advised, his tone more insistent, "But… I can’t force you either way. You need to be careful, Rin."

She saw the fear in his eyes, a reflection of her own. It wasn’t just for himself; it was for her, for what might happen if she got caught up in the storm that was already tearing everything apart. "I’ll go work on getting safe passage set up for the women," she decided, her voice filled with quiet determination, "They need me, and you’re right—I need to stay out of Gojo and Geto’s way."

Nanami sighed, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders as he nodded. Relief washed over his features, though it was tinged with the heavy burden of everything else they were facing. He stepped closer, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled her into a tight embrace. She felt his lips press against her forehead, a tender, lingering kiss that spoke of promises and unspoken fears.

"Once the last woman is out of danger," Nanami whispered against her hair, his voice filled with a fierce determination, "then you and I will leave for Malaysia. We’ll get out of this hell, I promise."

Rin nodded against his chest, her arms tightening around him. The weight of the world pressed down on them, but in that moment, with Nanami holding her close, it felt a little less suffocating.

When they finally pulled apart, Rin looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mixture of resolve and affection. "We’ll get through this," she said softly, the words as much for him as they were for herself.

Nanami nodded, his hand lingering on her cheek, brushing away a stray lock of hair. "We will," he promised, his voice firm, but there was a sadness there too—a recognition that the road ahead was fraught with dangers neither of them could fully predict.

Rin turned to go, casting one last glance at Nanami before she steeled herself and walked away, determined to do what needed to be done. Nanami watched her go, his heart heavy but resolute, knowing that whatever happened next, they would face it together.

Nanami stood in the dimly lit hallway, his gaze lingering on Rin's retreating figure until she disappeared from view. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he leaned against the wall for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The weight of everything—Yaga’s death, Gojo’s unraveling, the mounting danger of Geto's plans—pressed down on him, but the thought of Rin gave him strength. He had to see this through, for her, for them.

When he finally pushed off the wall, his steps were purposeful as he made his way to his office. The corridor seemed longer than usual, the silence echoing with memories of better days, of laughter and camaraderie that now felt like a distant dream. As he opened the door to his office, the familiar scent of old books and polished wood greeted him, a comforting presence in the midst of chaos.

He shut the door behind him, the soft click of the latch sealing him away from the madness outside, if only for a brief moment. The room was a sanctuary of sorts, filled with the remnants of a life that had been both fulfilling and bitter. The cluttered desk, the bookshelf lined with old tomes, the single window that overlooked the courtyard—each detail was a part of him, of the life he’d built brick by brick.

Nanami walked over to his desk, his fingers trailing along the edge of the worn wood as he pulled out the drawer. From within, he retrieved a small, weathered photograph, its edges frayed from years of handling. He held it up to the dim light, the image of a young woman staring back at him. Her smile was bright, full of life, her eyes sparkling with a joy that seemed foreign in the world he now lived in.

It was a picture from another time, another life—before the war, before the bloodshed had carved deep scars into his soul. She had been everything to him once, a beacon of light in the darkness. But she had been taken from him, caught in the crossfire of the first gang war he had survived. The memory of her loss was a wound that had never fully healed, a pain he had buried deep within himself.

For years, he had convinced himself that he would never love again, that the part of his heart capable of such feelings had died with her. He had thrown himself into his work, into the violence and chaos that had become his life, believing that was all there was left for him.

But then Rin had come into his life. She had seen through his defenses so easily, breaking down the walls he had so carefully constructed. He had tried to push her away, tried to convince himself that what he felt for her was nothing more than a fleeting distraction. But the more he fought it, the stronger his feelings became, until he could no longer deny the truth.

He loved her.

Nanami flipped the picture over, unable to look at the past any longer. The bitter smile that tugged at his lips was tinged with regret, but also with a sense of resolve. He couldn’t change what had happened, couldn’t bring back the woman he had lost. But he could fight for Rin, could protect her with everything he had left.

With a sigh, he placed the photograph back in the drawer, burying it beneath a stack of papers. It was time to focus on the present, on what needed to be done. He had been planning their escape for months now, ever since he had realized that his feelings for Rin couldn’t be ignored. He had mapped out every detail, every possible route, every contingency. He knew the risks, knew that one wrong move could mean the end for both of them. But he was willing to take that risk, because the alternative—losing Rin—was unthinkable.

He pulled out a folder from the bottom of the drawer, flipping it open to reveal a series of maps, documents, and notes. He had contacts in Malaysia, people he trusted who could help them disappear, who could give them a chance at a new life. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was possible. And soon, they would be free.

Nanami stared down at the papers, his mind running through the plan once more, checking for any flaws, any potential dangers he hadn’t accounted for. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not with so much at stake.

He closed the folder, his resolve hardening. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon, they would leave this nightmare behind, escape the bloodshed and madness that had consumed their lives. They would start anew, somewhere far away from the ghosts that haunted them. And for the first time in a long while, Nanami allowed himself to hope.

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the thought of their future wash over him. It was a fragile thing, that hope, but it was enough to keep him going, to give him the strength he needed to face whatever came next.

When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with a steely determination. He would do whatever it took to keep Rin safe, to ensure their escape. And when the time came, he would be ready.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, marking the passage of time as Nanami prepared himself for the final steps of their plan. It was almost time.

Then he heard heavy footsteps moving down the hall. Shuffling and stumbling, he knew exactly who it had to be. Nanami stood quickly, hurrying after Gojo. Geto had been in his best friend's ear lately and every time he and Gojo talked, Gojo was always left angry. It can't have been a coincidence...

Gojo's eyes were wild, pupils blown wide from the drugs coursing through his system as he stormed into the room where the women were huddled together. The atmosphere was tense, filled with terror and uncertainty. The women flinched as he slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing like a thunderclap through the silence.

"Who did it?" Gojo’s voice was a roar, his hands trembling as he pointed at the terrified women. His usually composed demeanor was shattered, replaced by a manic, frenzied rage, "Which one of you whores killed Yaga?"

The women stared at him, too afraid to respond. They exchanged fearful glances, their bodies trembling as they pressed closer together. They were all too aware of Gojo’s power, the overwhelming force that he barely seemed to have under control.

"Why are you trying to make me crazy?" Gojo demanded, his voice cracking with desperation. He was pacing the room now, his hands clutching at his hair as if trying to pull the thoughts from his mind. "Why do you want to make me angry? Do you enjoy seeing me like this?!" He shouted.

He lashed out suddenly, kicking over a table with such force that it shattered against the wall. The women gasped, some of them crying out in fear. He punched a hole in the wall, the sound of cracking plaster and wood filling the room. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, sweat dripping down his face as he glared at them, waiting—demanding—an answer.

But none of them could speak. They were paralyzed with fear, terrified of what he might do if they said the wrong thing, or worse, if they said nothing at all.

"Tell me!" he screamed, the sound reverberating through the walls. He was losing what little control he had left, his voice growing more frantic with each passing second, "Tell me who did it!"

The women recoiled, some of them starting to sob openly. Their fear was palpable, and Gojo’s unstable energy only intensified the terror in the room. He was a force of nature, and they were trapped in the eye of the storm.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and Nanami rushed in. His expression was a mix of urgency and exhaustion, but his focus was clear: getting Gojo out of there before he did something irreversible.

"Gojo, that’s enough," Nanami said firmly, stepping between him and the women. His voice was calm but commanding, the voice of someone who knew he had to take control before things spiraled any further out of hand, "You need to come with me."

Gojo’s wild eyes flicked to Nanami, his hands still shaking. For a moment, it seemed like he might resist, but the drugs had left him too muddled to argue. He stumbled forward, nearly collapsing into Nanami as he was guided out of the room. Nanami kept a steady grip on his shoulder, murmuring quiet reassurances as he led him down the hall towards his room.

"You need to rest," Nanami urged, his voice soft but insistent, "Just get some sleep. We’ll talk this out more in the morning."

Gojo muttered something incoherent, his steps uneven as he allowed himself to be guided away. His once-mighty presence was reduced to a shell of itself, the drugs and the guilt tearing him apart from the inside.

Once Nanami had seen Gojo safely to his room, he returned to the women. The exhaustion on his face was clear, but there was also a steely resolve in his eyes. "Listen," he began, his voice steady despite the turmoil swirling around him, "we’re going to get you all out of here. I’ve spoken with one of our contacts, and they’re going to make sure you’re safe."

The women looked at him with a mix of relief and uncertainty. Nanami was a figure they could trust, but the fear of what lay ahead was still heavy in the air. Some nodded, others whispered among themselves, but there was a sense of fragile hope beginning to take root.

"It's not going to be instant, and not all at once," he explained, "But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep you all safe."

Nanami offered a small, reassuring smile before stepping out of the room. As he closed the door behind him, his smile faded, replaced by a look of grim determination. He knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

Just as he turned to leave, he caught sight of Geto standing at the end of the hall, leaning casually against the wall. The grin on Geto’s face was unnerving, a mix of amusement and something darker.

"Why are you in such a hurry to get the women to safety, Nanami?" Geto asked, his tone dripping with mock concern, "One of them could’ve killed Yaga, you know."

Nanami’s eyes narrowed as he approached Geto. "And pointing fingers without evidence just makes you look suspicious, Geto. What are you really up to?"

Geto’s grin widened, but there was no warmth in it. "Oh, I’m just observing how little you seem to be doing to find the real culprit," he said, his tone dripping with a mocking sarcasm, "Makes one wonder what you’re hiding."

Nanami felt a flare of anger, but he forced it down. He couldn’t afford to lose his composure now, not in front of Geto. "Whatever game you’re playing, it’s going to backfire," he said, "You know that, right?"

Geto’s expression hardened, the grin fading as he stepped closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper, "You’re a coward, Nanami. You always have been. And when this all comes crashing down, don’t think for a second that you’ll be spared."

They stared at each other, the air thick with tension and the hum of cursed energy crackling between them. Finally, Nanami turned away, his shoulders tense as he walked down the hall, leaving Geto standing there with a dark glint in his eyes.

Nanami knew he was running out of time. The situation was deteriorating rapidly, and if they didn’t act soon, everything they’d worked for would be lost. But first, he had to get the women out, and then—then he would deal with Geto.

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

The city lay in an eerie stillness, a silence so profound that it felt almost tangible, like a weight pressing down on everything and everyone. The streets, once bustling with life and energy, were now empty, abandoned by all but the most desperate or foolish. The shadows of the towering buildings stretched long and ominous, cloaking the city in an oppressive gloom that only deepened as the hours dragged on.

The few citizens who remained in the city had retreated into their homes, drawing curtains tight and locking doors as if that could keep out the fear that clung to the air like a thick fog. They had seen the devastation, the raw power of the sorcerers, and it had terrified them to their core. The remains of Shinjuku were a stark reminder of the danger that lurked just outside their doors, a desolate wasteland where once there had been life and laughter.

But it wasn’t just the memory of destruction that kept them inside. It was the silence. A silence so profound it seemed to echo with unspoken threats, with the promise of something terrible waiting just beyond the edge of perception. There was a sense that the city itself was holding its breath, waiting for something—anything—to break the stillness. And when it did, they feared it would be like the shattering of glass, an explosion of violence that would consume them all.

The sorcerers had proven themselves to be every bit as dangerous as the citizens had feared. Their battles had left scars on the city, both physical and psychological. The twisted wreckage of buildings, the charred remains of what had once been homes and businesses, stood as grim monuments to the power these beings wielded. And now, in the aftermath, the cursed energy that had been unleashed lingered, a dark presence that seemed to seep into every corner of the city.

The cursed spirits, those twisted beings born of malice and fear, had multiplied in the absence of human activity. They roamed the empty streets, drawn to the negativity that hung heavy in the air. They reveled in it, their twisted forms growing stronger as they bathed in the ambient fear and despair. Where once they had been mere shadows, lurking on the edges of perception, now they were bold, brazen, prowling the city with an almost sentient hunger.

City officials had tried to reassure the populace, promising new laws, new tools to combat the rising tide of curses and cursed users. They had showcased their latest innovations, devices designed to seal or capture the malevolent spirits, to protect the citizens from the dark forces that now threatened to engulf them. But their words rang hollow, their promises empty.

The people had seen too much, lived through too much, to believe in the hollow reassurances of those who had failed them before. They had watched as the city they loved was torn apart, as those in power struggled and ultimately failed to protect them. And so, they hunkered down, withdrawing from the world outside, choosing to wait out the storm rather than face it head-on.

It was all they could do.

As night fell, the city’s silence grew even more oppressive, broken only by the occasional distant sound—a faint crash, the shattering of glass, or the low, inhuman growl of a cursed spirit moving through the darkened streets. The citizens prayed that morning would come quickly, that the rising sun would chase away the shadows and bring with it some semblance of safety. But deep down, they knew that the night held dominion now, and that what was coming could not be stopped by the light of day.

The city, once a beacon of life and energy, had become a battleground, and all that was left for those who remained was to survive.

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#fanfiction #writing #a03 fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #yakuza au #dark fic

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