#I HATE TUMBLR BETA

[olivermccree]

i. "the fall of home" - los campesinos! // ii. antigone - sophocles // iii. "the wolf" - manchester orchestra

( gdocs version since tumblr beta is super annoying )

quick stats !

full name: oliver michael mccree

date of birth: december 1st, 1966

zodiac big three: sagittarius sun, scorpio moon, gemini rising

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

ethnicity: 1/2 white, 1/2 black

nationality: us american

religion: agnostic

languages spoken: english (5)

enneagram: 7w8

mbti: esfp

temperament: choleric-sanguine

alignment: chaotic neutral

background !

triggers: substance abuse, brief overdose, parental abandonment

October 16th, 1983: Oliver would always say that that was the best day of his entire life. And anyone who knew him well wouldn't be able to tell you whether that was true or not, but they would be able to tell you this: there was the Oliver before 10/16/1983, and there was the Oliver after 10/16/1983.

But his story begins with a one-night stand. His mother found a man she was sure would be the guy... again. But the guy was gone the next morning. And she mourned losing the guy after their magical night at The Pit. And a week came and went. And a pregnancy test came back positive.

Anyone who knew her would tell you she wasn't fit to be a mother, but she saw it differently. This was a gift to her, a chance to prove that she could break the chain of the poor parenting that plagued generations. She quit drinking. She quit drugs. She quit gambling. She really turned over a new leaf.

On the first day of December in 1966, she welcomed a little boy into the world. She named him Oliver, an homage to her late brother, and told him she would do right by him.

And she did. For a while, she did. Oliver had a loving and stable mother -- and that made up for not knowing his father. Men came and went over the years, but no one stuck around much longer than a couple months.

Josef Johansen was another story. Oliver was nine when Josef came into the picture and turned his mother's world upside down. His 'foreign charm' swept her off her feet, and Oliver could take being an afterthought as long as his mom was happy.

Josef stuck around for more than two months, firmly establishing himself as part of Oliver's life -- at least, compared to the other men who'd cycled in and out. But, the longer he stuck around, the more he truly began showing his true colors. He became an enabler, Oliver's mother breaking her nearly decade-long commitment to sobriety. He would sweep her away for nights on end, leaving Oliver to twiddle his thumbs and make do with the cereal they still had in the cabinets.

Three years into the relationship, as Oliver's mother was expecting Josef to propose, she found $800 on the bed... and her boyfriend nowhere.

For the next week, Oliver would sit silently in the kitchen with his mother as she stared out the window. Josef wasn't coming back. They both knew it. What drove him away?

The afternoon after she finally accepted what had happened, why $800 had been left behind ( which, she may add, was nothing in comparison to what Josef could afford ), Oliver came home to find her, unconscious, in the bathroom. Whether it was an attempt on her life or an accident, he would never ask. There would always be an unspoken understanding.

With her off her feet, with Josef gone, and with Oliver only 13, there was no steady source of income. They were on the brink of financial ruin, on the brink of eviction, when Josef came back.

He came with money and an apology, but Oliver wasn't willing to hear it out. He'd take the money, he'd relay the message...

...but that was a complete lie. He'd take the money and his mother would never question where it came from.

She eventually began working again... and she eventually fell off the wagon again... and she eventually got back on and began working again... and she fell off... and the story went on like that for years.

Oliver figured that he should've been worrying himself with academia and extracurriculars and all those fun things his friends were focusing on... but he was so busy being far too ahead that he kept falling behind. Until he was 15.

October 16th, 1983: Oliver woke up to find the entire house stripped down. Outside of the bare necessities and what couldn't be moved with ease, his drunken stupor had allowed him to sleep through something big.

His mom's room was completely bare. The bed remained. The closet remained. The vanity remained. Nothing else. It was far greater than he had seen in the past, those nights when she would be swept away by Josef for a week or so. Only they left on those nights. But this?

He found $800 on the mattress.

The first thing he did when he found out his mother may have left him forever? May have left him floating adrift with nothing but $800 to get by? Throw the best goddamn house party Cherry had ever fucking seen!

Without any family in the area ( well... Jamie, but he didn't count... ), Oliver resigned to waiting... waiting... waiting in the house until he was evicted. He couldn't pay. He wasn't going to try to pay. And he wasn't going to pay for anywhere else. He meandered around Cherry proper, looking for some long empty homes he could squat in... and managed to land upon one (1).

The rest of his high-school years were spent working, fighting, partying, and trying to save up money to go to college... which was fucking hard! Especially when he'd drunkenly offer to pay for a round of shots every now and again!

But, between what he had saved up, a bullshit ~diversity~ scholarship, a loan he managed to take out, and some outside help, he'd scraped together enough to pay tuition for the local university.

His days haven't changed much. Working, fighting, partying, saving up... but he's found much more lucrative means of income on university property.

Also he fucked around and found out with Elaine/Harvey. :elmosmile:

SOME ADDITIONS

I could not Flawlessly Weave These Into My Tale™, but very worth noting:

As alluded to, he and Jamie are half-brothers. How did they find out, you may ask? Oliver’s biological father may have been completely absent in his life, what to the point that he didn’t even know his name, but the Child Of His Mother™ was sent for when… his bio dad bit the dust lol.

Since ol’ Oliver was ~11, so pretty in the throes of Josef’s chaos… “I only learned his name one week ago but he is the best man in the entire world and this is not projection.” 

Jamie had something else to say about that. Apparently he was a “””””deadbeat,””””” but… no. Obviously the best man in the entire world. They literally came to blows at the funeral about it.

Chose Engineering as a major because he knows it'll get him a job right out of college... but... you know, first... he actually has to graduate... and... to do that... he has to actually pass it.

This would work better in a headcanons section but... I wanna stop using Beta as soon as possible, so I'll just put it here for now: will drink and will take a hit of the blunt. That's it, that's all. He's not looking to follow in his mom's footsteps!

[kerosnes]

guys, who swallowed SHEDLETSKY’S sword????? 😦

i could be so good at forsaken if i LOCKED IN and didn’t CUT 😋😋😋😋

[xxlady-lunaxx]

My motivation for writing has simply slipped away but my ideas are flowing so here is a Rengiyuu one I came up with at 2am that I wanted to share if you possibly would what to use 😭🙏

just some little silly idea thing :3

Alright, so Giyuu and Kyojuro's FIRST co-mission together, probably some time when taking a break while traveling, In all of Kyojuro's pride, he blatantly (yet flamboyantly) exclaims, "Tomioka! Why do you dislike me?" Giyuu would look at him confused, before awkwardly replying with a, "...'dislike' is a strong word." Kyojuro would definitely laugh, "Aha! But you didn't deny your resentment!"

(THIS IS THE PART WHERE INNER ME SQUEALS) Giyuu scratches the back of his neck, looking to the ground unable to meet Kyojuro's gaze as he admits, "You're too... bright. And too warm. It's an unsettling feeling i'm not used to. It creates emotions i'm not used to. I suppose that's why I find it difficult to speak with you."

BOOM SHAKALAKAH YES GOD i miss my wife sonic

Did i just crash out over my own idea? Yes. Am i going to share it with someone one else to attempt to keep this SPARK (pun intended) alive since my motivation is nonexistent? Also Yes.

I entrust you with my two cents.

:3

nooo don’t entrust me with this beautiful idea my writing motivation is fucked i haven’t written properly in ages :((( ok anyway ill try something with this mwahmwah // im too lazy to try and rephrase what u wrote so ill js copy ur dialogue

For a while now Kyojuro had noticed how a certain pillar (Giyuu) had been conspicuously NOT talking to him. Just something about the way he so blatantly avoided Kyojuro piqued his interest—it wasn’t as if he were a stranger to getting odd looks (often because of his hair, or maybe because he spoke loudly), and he didn’t really expect to get along with every Hashira, especially considering he’d only recently joined. But Giyuu was avoiding him, not just being unsocial, as was previously warned by some of their fellow coworkers. So, naturally, on their following (read: first) joint mission, he confronted Giyuu about it.

Never dance around a topic or sugar coat it when such things would likely cause misunderstandings, Kyojuro had learned, so as they headed towards their destination, he placed the question on the table raw, paired with a smile so Giyuu didn’t feel pressured. “Tomioka-san! Why do you dislike me?”

Mildly surprised by the question, and how easily it was delivered, Giyuu paused, eyebrows quirking up. Then, uneasily, he murmured (in his usual quiet voice that always had Kyojuro leaning in to hear), “‘Dislike’ is… a strong word.”

“Ah but—you didn’t deny your resentment!” Kyojuro said joyfully, lips dancing in a wide smile. He waited for a reply patiently, watching his coworker struggle for a moment.

“You’re too… bright,” Giyuu admitted, gazing pointedly at the ground as he mused over it. “And— And too warm, it creates unsettling feelings that I’m not used to. Emotions I’m not sure what to do with. I suppose that’s why I find it difficult to speak to you.”

He sounded reluctant to say it, what with how his voice quieted even more towards the end. Kyojuro’s surprised—pleasantly so—and his smile faltered, eyebrows lifting.

“Is that so?” he asked louder than he intended, and Giyuu’s eyes flit back up to his with a nod. Then Kyojuro smiles again, inexplicably proud of himself. “Does me being ‘warm’ relate to me being the Flame Hashira?”

That earns something of amusement to flicker through Giyuu’s expression. “Does it?” he counters, then turns in the road to inspect something.

Kyojuro joins him, turning Giyuu’s words in his head. Unsettling feelings, hm?

icrashedicantthinkofanythingtoaddandimtired

[pteropodhair]

I LOVE HER STUPID RECTANGLE-LOOKING SMILE

So I had to edit it

Also I might be drawing her ink color more red idk just so she has a more unique color, and because other than her initial design she’s just always yellow or red

Edit: I forgot to remove some things

[minnieokok]

a small rant about something in the wh fandom that i feel like needs to be talked about more

there have been a lot of theories about welcome home's lore using beta art as canon art, people reposting beta art, and artists showing beta art in their posts, and it just makes me kinda sad if i'm being honest. clown has stated that to not use art from 2021 as for theories or to repost it as the art is beta art and is clearly not canon.

i don't want to come off as a party pooper or someone who can't have fun, but i believe it's important not to go against clown's boundaries and to make sure the things you're using for your theories are actually still canon or to not repost any of the art from 2021 or show any of the beta art in you're posts of your own art (i don't believe it's bad to use beta art as an reference for your art, hell i have done that before, but maybe just link to the drawing instead of reposting it with your art)

i understand that not everyone in the fandom knows this, and if you did any of this without knowing it went against clown's boundaries, then i don't think you're a bad person, i do believe your actions are bad, but i understand you didn't know you what you are doing, and i hope you stop doing any of it after finding out it goes against clown's wishes

[weird-homosexual-in-your-area]

“Pilots in unit B43C1 are needed for sortie. Repeat, pilots in unit B43C1 are needed for sortie. Assigned technicians, escort pilots in unit B43C1 to docking bay immediately.” 

She was roused from her dream-like state by a blaring siren, louder than anything she remembered. She wasn’t startled, nor did she reflexively cover her ears like she would have done months ago, she just sat up and left her rest bay. A technician, she didn’t have his name memorised- whatever, they all looked the same to her since the conditioning- was at the door, clearly agitated at her for some reason or another. He grabbed her by the arm and tugged her out of the room, toward the docking bay. 

“You know, I had tickets to go out with my mates, evening of that sortie the other day,” he commented, face slightly reddening, grip on her arm tightening. “Tickets to see that Terra-Kadora game- you know the one I’m on about? Of course you don’t, you don’t see that shit now.” 

He suddenly stopped, with a painless jolt to her arm pulling her in front of him. He towered over her, but she felt no fear, more confusion as to what he was getting at. 

“’Course, you didn’t care if we got to see that game, did you? It don’t matter to you that we were stuck in repairs for two full fucking days, fixing your leg after that stupid jump kick trick you pulled,” he muttered. He was clearly unimaginably angry. She didn’t really pay much notice- he didn’t know how good it felt in the cockpit pulling that off. He couldn’t know. The joy of piloting was beyond him. “That was my first scheduled off day for a full month. Can you imagine that? A full month doing nothing but working, and your first day off gets cancelled because some idiotic brain-dead little shitbag felt like looking flashy. Can you imagine that?” 

A dreamy smile fell onto her face. She was imagining it, and it was as close to heaven as she could imagine. 

“What are you fucking smiling at?!”  He pulled her close to him, screeching in pure rage. She reflexively tried to activate her close-range jammers, to fire off an AP volley to disable the attacker, close in for that sweet, sweet kill; but nothing happened- those facilities weren’t available in her flesh-body. She dropped her smile, knowing better than to provoke the anger of the techs- especially ones who work to fix her mech.  

He sighed in exasperation- they were nearing the docking bay, and she’d have to have the helmet on soon. “I’ll be watching you today. If you pull that shit again, we’ll have issues- I managed to convince the highers to let my guys out today instead, and I doubt they’ll be convinced to do it again.”  

He passed her onto another technician, telling him to “put it in the cockpit on B43C1E”, and gave her the pilot’s helmet. She slipped it onto her head, and suddenly, darkness.  

Silence. 

Nothing except the hand of the technician dragging her to her beloved suit. 

She was pushed down a step into the cockpit and harnessed in. She felt several jolts of agony and euphoria, bright light and blackness, screeching sound and empty static, as she was plugged into the neural system. 

Then, the OPH- the oxygenated liquid allowing her flesh-body to breathe in the cockpit- flooded into the heart of the mech. She fought the urge to recoil as it reached her stomach level, the cold seeping down to her reactor- no, her bones. She wasn’t synced with the mech yet, unfortunately, so she had no reactor to keep her warm. 

As the liquid reached her head height, she reflexively held her breath, preparing to drown, but caught herself and exhaled fully. The liquid needed to fully get into her lungs, or the sheer pressure of the liquid around her would crush them. As it made its way down her windpipe, she fought the urge to splutter it up, to get it out of her lungs, and just let it into her body. Her vision filled with stars, red and yellow hues as her brain screamed for air, until suddenly she didn’t need to breathe anymore as the OPH reached her lungs, filling her with ample oxygen. 

Silence again. No sound, no sight, no feeling but the frigid liquid encasing her like a personal prison. Nothing. 

Then, all at once, her senses lit up with the familiar view from the eyes of her true body, one not of flesh and blood but of reinforced titanium and coolant.  She heard the familiar hissing sound of the scaffolding holding the mech retracting, its purpose fulfilled as the body was now inhabited. 

DEPLOY 

She didn’t hear the word, but it popped into her head. One second it wasn’t on her mind, the next it was all she could think of, and she had no choice but to do what she’d been conditioned to on hearing it said. She pushed her rear thrusters to full, leaning forward slightly and engaging the front calf thrusters to balance her out, so as to achieve the best speed she could- the system loved it when she did that, and so did she, as an overpowering wave of dopamine flooded her system as the reward drive kicked in for her compliance. Her flesh-body shook in response, but her true body, her gleaming body of steel, remained unwavering in its flight. 

She wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, but at some point in her flight she just knew what she was being sent out for. A few hundred kilometers away from the outpost at which she made her residence, 7 enemy mechs had been spotted making their way toward a crucial state power station. They were new mechs- analysis put the suits themselves at about a week old, so the pilots wouldn’t have much experience. Her unit could easily deal with them- 16 pilots with a few months’ worth of experience versus 7 with a couple of days? Walk in the park- the only real challenge was doing it cleanly enough for the reward drive to deem them worthy, but at this point even that was easy. 

About 15 minutes after her troop set out, they began to see the enemy mechs across the horizon. They were hulking things- 25 meters tall on average (about 5 meters taller than her), armour-piercing round emplacements on each shoulder, with laser arrays along the ribs of the machine. And that was only the armaments the mechs had that she could immediately see- for all she knew, there could be thousands of rocket pods stored in those four arms, there could be EMP generators hiding in that disfigured face, there could be blades that could cut through her sleek, metallic form like butter hiding in those legs. Those mechs were everything she’d been taught to hate, to fear, to want gone. 

For even a thousand infantry troops, dealing with just one of these would be suicide. For her mech troop? 10 minutes, maybe just 5. 

Mechs 1 through 7 began the assault, opening fire with rocket pods to slow down the bulkier four-armed monsters. They took several hits, clearly not expecting any opposition, the fools that they were. They snapped around, frantically shooting off AP rounds to try and slow down the oncoming storm, but not one shot met its mark, all being dodged by her unit, giving each a little hint of dopamine. God, the dopamine was incredible in piloting. Like nothing else in her life before the program, or what little she remembered of it, or during the program. Those techs couldn’t ever begin to understand how good it felt- she could take whatever “issues” they’d give her if it meant she’d get just a fraction of the euphoria she was going to experience over the course of the sortie. 

As the troop closed in, the enemy mechs grew increasingly desperate. They started firing off all-too-predictable laser arrays, each being swiftly dodged by all the mechs, and releasing some hidden rockets from a compartments in their arms, which she just knew were going to be there. She got another hit of dopamine from that- so fucking good- that was quickly cut short by the shared pain she felt over the comms relay, that was honestly more like a thought-sharing system, from several of the rockets finding their mark on number 5. 

 Hatred newly refueled, she boosted her thrusters into overdrive and sped over to the enemies, a cheetah running after a gazelle. She activated her elbow thrusters and drove her fist clean through one of the enemy mechs’ chestplate, grabbing the fusion reactor within and tearing it out, crushing the still-beating “heart” of the machine in her bare hands, and the dopamine was unlike anything else she’d experienced. A clean reactor kill always was- her system was flooded with pure satisfaction, and her flesh body shivered in reflexive response. The unresponsive shell of her kill keeled over, a deafening crash resounding across the barren wasteland as it hit the floor. 

 She noticed an enemy mech behind her through some optical data from mech 3, and span around on her left leg, whipping out her right with a thruster-boosted roundhouse kick that cleaved the foe in two with relative ease. Another rush of euphoria, slightly less satisfying than the last due to the damage she caused to her leg in the process of the manoeuvre, but still significant enough to make “her” body tense up in the cockpit. 

With the new injury to her leg, fighting at the front line was too much of a risk, even though it would net her so much more reward, so she reluctantly opted to retreat to the backline consisting still of mechs 1 through 7, now also with her mech E, to provide supporting fire for the front liners. They fought with grace and beauty, dodging the more unwieldy days-old mechs’ blows like flies dodging weak attempts at swatting, before countering with devestating punches and kicks that caved in heads, carved off limbs, detonated ammo reserves, each hit only adding to the sheer rush of dopamine they all felt. Her and the other 7’s fire was extremely helpful, provided much-needed openings on the mechs that were far more occupied prolonging their own survival than dealing with the far more apt attackers. 

After a couple more minutes of trading blows, only one enemy remained, its four-armed form glistening in the harsh sunlight like the angel of Death it so desperately wanted to be. Strangely, it didn’t attempt a retreat to save itself, or to fight back, or anything of the sort, it just fell to its knees, like it was accepting its fate. Strange. Why would it do tha- 

Suddenly, it clicked to her. It was overloading its fusion core. It’d result in a massive nuclear explosion destroying everything in a... 14 kilometer radius- just about leaving the power plant safe, thank God. Since she knew it, all the other pilots immediately did too thanks to the thought-sharing process. Everyone frantically turned away, boosting thrusters into overdrive to get as much distance between them and the explosion that was about to destroy everything near it- including them if they weren’t fast enough. 

After two minutes of flying, panic overtaking her and every other pilot in the troop, an all-encompassing blast rang out from the battlefield they were at minutes ago. They were pushed a good 50 meters back by the shockwave, all maintaining balance thanks to their experience with this sort of explosion. Their heads were searing from the sheer pain of the soundwave, everything within 14 kilometers of the mech was reduced to ruins, but at least they were alive.  

Pilot B ran a quick diagnostic check to ensure no major damage had been done to any of them- all that returned was E’s leg (the front panels of which had completely shattered with her second kill), some mild overheating in the backs of all of them except 1, 4, 9 and A which could weaken the armour if left unchecked, and several breached armour plates on 5’s front from the rocket salvo they endured. Still, she’d been on missions that had ended far worse for her troop. 

RECALL 

Again, she didn’t hear the command as much as it became her thoughts, and as soon as it did, she reflexively began flying back to the base. She allowed herself to blank out on the way- if there were no briefings she’d receive, no diagnostics to run, no enemies to fight, she didn’t need sit around in a boring flight back for however long it’d take. 

***** 

Some time passed- she wasn’t sure how much- and her home base came into view over the horizon, a gleaming silver compound contrasting against the blood-stained sand and bright blue sky. She slowed down to walking pace (still many times faster than her pace in her flesh-body) and walked through the bay doors, alongside the rest of her troop. They each slotted into their respective docking bays, and she felt the scaffolding swing onto her, holding her down for the extraction process. She wanted to fight it, needed to stay in her true body, had to stop them tearing her out, but it was useless fighting back, as several anti-mech infantry units were stationed on the various gantries that lined the room like capillaries, weapons trained on each of them, waiting only for the slightest deviation from procedure to open fire. Despite every joint in her body, every cell of her brain that still housed what little remained of her crying out to stop it, she allowed the scaffolding to lock around her. She allowed the piping to drain the OPH from the cockpit. She allowed the doors to be levered open. 

She allowed herself to be torn from her true body in a jolt of pure, unfiltered agony, as the neural ports disconnected from her spinal cord. 

Her brain took a while to recover from the overuse in the mech, and even longer to recover from the sheer shock of the disconnection, so when she next noticed that she still existed, she was being carried by a technician to the debriefing room. She twitched slightly, trying to run diagnostics to ensure she was unharmed- but that facility wasn’t available in her flesh-body. 

“Oh, you’re awake now,” came the voice of the man who was carrying her. She noted it was the same as her earlier assailant, the one who’d warned her about breaking anything- shit, she’d broken the leg, hadn’t she? She tensed up, expecting the technician to break out into a shout, but he laughed softly, almost affectionately. “While you’re here, I may as well just say well done on the mission before the briefing. You did really good, honestly- you took a quarter of them down yourself! That spin-kick was also really well done; I’m kinda shocked.” She relaxed, realising he wasn’t yet aware of the damage she’d done. She knew she was going to suffer when he found out, but that was in the future.  

The technician gently placed her down onto the ground, and she walked alongside him. Several times, she nearly fell over when she had to turn, expecting her thrusters to kick in when she willed them to, but they remained in the docking bay on her true body, not on... this body. They walked in comfortable silence, as she checked every corner, half expecting an enemy mech to ambush her around it, then catching herself and looking ahead, focused on where she was going. 

After a couple of minutes walking, they reached the briefing room, and they went in their separate entrances. The technician went into the main door of the room, into the conference room itself where the details of the mission would be relayed to the staff as a whole by the Base Director, the woman who ran the site. She went in through the back door of the room to behind the stage, alongside the other 15 pilots who were on the mission, catching a glimpse of a pale, unemotive face that wasn’t truly hers in the reflection of the stainless steel door. They were also there for the briefing, to pick up any details they’d missed during the mission, but couldn’t be allowed in the crowd, with their dead eyes and identical gaits being deemed too unsettling for the public to see. 

The booming, yet comforting voice of the site director came over the microphone urging the crowd to quiet down, an order they all quickly obeyed. She then continued; “As you may know, pilot unit B43C1 were deployed into the field a few hours ago. Our sensors picked up a strike team of Forcemesh mechs approaching Power Plant Delta- one of the most crucial plants here on Kadora, for those who make their residence somewhere else. Unit B43C1 was deployed to dispatch of them- if they made it to the plant and were allowed free reign, the consequences would have been disastrous.” 

The crowd murmured in shock- presumably some images of an example of the possible devestation were being displayed on the screen for the audience. There was no screen behind the stage- it would have cost very little to install one, but there was no need for the pilots to experience the briefing (“they’re not human anymore, they wouldn’t get the intricacies,” the Director had said on the topic)- but it didn’t take being shown to know what was being shown.  

“Fortunately, the brave pilots of Unit B43C1 arrived just in time to make quick work of the threat. We have here some footage captured from Mech E’s sensory array of the scene.” The crowd erupted into cheers- likely as her textbook reactor kill was shown on screen. God, that was incredible. “Incredible work from the mech, right?”  

“So, the gains of this mission have been discussed, but now we must talk of the costs. Mech 5’s chest was breached by a rocket salvo, so I’ll need technician section 5 on that tonight. All of the mechs except A, 9, 4 and 1 have had some overheating to their backs from that massive blast the final enemy released, so I’ll need the corresponding teams to check on those at some point in the coming week- it's not the most urgent, but it being done as soon as possible is needed for the continued defence of Kadora. Finally, mech E shattered a couple of the armour plates on its right leg, and the joints need checking too, so section E, you’re on that tonight.” 

She heard some commotion, presumably from section E, after that was announced, with the director chiding them for their childish response. “It’s got to be done, and it’s got to be done today. Sorry, you lot. With that, this meeting is adjourned. Glory to Stormcell!” 

A resounding chorus of the whole room echoing her cry of glory, then footfalls and idle chatter as the crowd filtered out of the room. As per procedure, the Lead Technician of each sector came to the backstage area to escort the pilots back to their assigned rest bays. Her escorter was red in the face, and grabbed her arm with a ferocity that nearly matched that of the rest of her troop. 

They walked in silence, with him almost dragging her along when she failed at rounding corners. When they eventually reached the resting bay block, though, he tugged her arm to drag her into the left turn to the technician dormitories instead of her rest bay. Fuck. She should’ve known this was coming. She should’ve just not broken her leg. It wasn’t necessarily going to hurt- her sensitivity to pain had been annihilated in the conditioning process, as had many other parts of her personality that she missed to varying degrees- but she wouldn’t be in a state in which she could pilot for days. 

As she was dragged into the technicians’ dormitory, she saw the technician who dragged her in- the same one who’d been interacting with her all day, she realised- raise his fist in a punch, and she tried to activate her close range jammers- but they were on her true body, not her flesh-form. As the punch landed, she fell to the floor, and everything went dark. 

***** 

She wasn’t sure how long it was before she came to, but when she was she wasn’t in the grimy, dark dormitories but the unsettlingly clean medical bay, with its flourescent lighting and too-polished walls and floors. She saw a figure sitting on the side of the bed she’d been put on, not one she recognised but not one she viewed as a “stranger”, per se. 

“Sam, it’s awake. Get in here, you’re the one with the damage report,” came the voice of the figure. The voice was bored, like it’d been sitting there for hours and this was the first thing worth his time that had happened. Then, another figure came in. She couldn’t tell the difference between the two- their medical scrubs were identical. 

“Right, E, so you fell off a gantry apparently- side note, pilots seem to have horrible balance on days they damaged their mechs, but that’s just an observation- and ended up with a concussion, extreme bruising pretty much all over you, but luckily for you, no broken bones. Good on you, you ‘landed’ well.” She let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding at that- at least she could get back to piloting fairly soon. 

 “You’re staying on rest for a day or 2 while you recover, but after that you should be good to go back in the field after that. Also, your technicians asked me to pass on a message to you when they found you- ‘be more careful, you braindead piece of shit.’ I’m sure they’re lovely people to be around. Anyway, that’s all, so… yeah.” 

He stood there in arkward silence for a few seconds, before he and the other figure walked out of the room, leaving only her, the hum of the lighting, and a reflection that wasn’t hers in the polished, shining ceiling. 

She could have gotten off worse, at least. 

[veryrealauthorthings]

[amynchan]

"Tell me to stop..."

The words were ragged on her lips. Shuddering, shaking their way out of her.

Beneath her, her beloved smiled.

"I don't want you to."

Those words rang with trust, and it rolled through her. Her shuddering muscles brought her closer, and she nearly choked.

"Please!" she gasped, tears finally beading in the corner of each eye. "Don't make me do this! One word! Just one-!"

She was stopped by a loving hand. Her face was touched lightly, and as the hand fell, exhausted, she knew it had left a trail behind.

"I know it's difficult to bear-" that voice, always so strong, was a shade of what it could be "-but you are strong. You can do this."

As if they weren't on a battlefield. As if they hadn't been drawn to fight one another, to defend what they couldn't wholly understand.

"I can't!" Her strength was failing, her vision blurring. "I can't! Please don't-!"

"But it's already done."

The reminder wasn't unkind. It was soft. Gentle. Loving. As if they were entangled in nothing more or less than a loving embrace, proclaiming their love with only the celestial bodies to bear witness.

As if there weren't a sword between them, held by unwilling and willing hands alike. One desperate to release, to save what little life force could be recovered. One at peace with dying, prepared for this eventuality.

One of the two had always been optimistic. The other, realistic.

How cruel reality could be.

"When I die, the spell will release." The words were meant to be comforting. They weren't. "You'll have my magic, and you'll be free to take your place."

"But I don't want it!" She wanted to rage against her own body. Stop this from happening. But it was done... it was done... "Not like this!"

It was so her. So optimistic. He wished he could share her view, but...

He was always a realist. And he was dying.

And he loved her.

"I'll meet you in the stars," he told her instead. "Be strong, and don't let go of our future."

In the next moment, her hands finally, finally let go of the sword. For her, it was one moment too late.

In the moment after that, the people learned, viscerally, the meaning of "hell on earth."

And they had every reason to be afraid.

[violetwolfraven]

Someone tell me why there are GEN BETAS in the world

I know every generation goes through this but my gen z ass really was not prepared to not be the youngest generation around. Gen alpha was fine cause they’re all like 12 but the fact that GEN BETA EXISTS

[umbracirrus]

Phone: two apps need updating

Me: but there's only one app on the list?

Phone: two apps. Update them.

Me: there is literally only one-

Phone: Two. Apps.

[bewitched-bullet]

Had an event happen and now I'm hating on everything I've written.

I want to write so badly but scared that I'll hate that too.

'Scuz me while I hate in peace.

[veryrealauthorthings]

[witch128chick]

Sooooo

I finished a chapter, huh?? What a surprise

Hope you're all doing good!!

[shinybulbasaur]

almost entirely passed out during lab meeting, head on the table, eyes closed, everything, regained consciousness just long enough to see some journal article had used ß instead of β and proceeded to call them out for it (head still on table, eyes still closed)

[felteverywhere]

continued from here for @luhstories

the fridge is a little cramped anyway, but there's a big hole of empty space where the food he's been saving was sitting. he doesn't even know why he asks, because it's pretty obvious and as he stands and turns, catching sight of kyle's face, it's confirmation all on its own. "are you fucking serious?" he groans, tilting his head back. "this is cruel. you think fucking takeout compares to my mother's cooking? you're killing me."  

[jayden-writes-old]

Edit: I accidentally made this a secondary blog so I made a completely new account for my fics. I will upload them here @jayden-writes

I can't believe I'm back on here again lol. This blog's just exists so I can post the fanfiction I'm writing. And to motivate me to actually finish all my WIPs and ideas.

I'm mainly writing for Obey Me! right now so if you're interested in that fandom, feel free to follow me, I guess. I'm not going to post anything here besides my own content, so I won't spam your dashboard, I promise lol.

Either way uhhh... if you like to beta read, definitely hmu because I need one.

The topics in my stories mostly revolve around mental health - as my blog title says, I'm projecting my struggles onto fictional characters and OCs. Which means it's mainly hurt/comfort and angst. So if that's not something you like or something you can handle just ignore this post, no hard feelings.

I don't even know if anyone is going to read this...? I have no idea what tumblr is like right now as I haven't used it in at least three or four years.

I'm excited to start posting my fanfics again because it's been four years since I uploaded anything to any platform and I have never really uploaded anything in english either. So maybe I'm going to translate all my old One Piece and Sherlock fanfics and post them here too? But idk yet lol.

Anyway, thank you if you read all of this! Have a great day.