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asukaskerian · 8 months ago

Note

Battlefield Terra is one of those works that just...changed my brain chemistry for so many reasons. I still go back and read it and think about it. This isnt an ask to return to it (though wouldn't be upset) but just to like thank you for putting the amount of it that you did out there

.__. *squish squish* thank you.

i cannot REMEMBER for the life of me if i ever posted any of the scene bits i had written in the chapter i never completed. first scene is actually one i love a lot, but then the battle scene was overtly complex and too long and had required so many rewrites and nothing worked. hghghhg.

but. anyway. this is the scene with the fallout from the "oh shit i kissed the alien am I GAY after all?????? oh fucking hell why did i notice JUST AT THE SAME TIME AS I NOTICE HOW MUCH HE'S NEVER GONNA *DECIDE NOT TO GO HOME* vfbndjh gnx;"

"And this is why it never pays to be stingy with technology," Jane said philosophically from the bucket seat next to John.

Strapped in like a sausage in its skin, John still managed to turn his helmet and grin at his sister. "Aw, come on, you didn't want the industry to cut into its profit margin, did you."

In the corner of his -- of all the pilots' -- glasses was an explosion of Spanish and Chinese sentences, nonsensical words, and Roxy-worthy typos.

The industry thing was mostly a joke; the think-typing-thoughts interface had first been developed for quadriplegics and amputees, and outside of hardcore nerds and professionals whose job required they be able to code very fast, people still preferred using their actual hands. One good reason for it: at the level of miniaturization necessary to put the brain sensors into glasses, it was new enough to still be expensive.

The new communication hub was a complete mess of hundreds of people trying it on for the first time, and it was hilarious.

"--Wow, hey, I know what that guy is doing! Oh my god, it's excellent, he's trying to think in sign language." Roxy giggled, tried to kick her feet only they were also strapped in. The craft was still accelerating, after all. Bleh. "Only then he has to transcribe into English, and he's doing it super literally! Hehehe."

Jane perked up a little. "Huh! No wonder the grammar was odd."

ID28YB: holy shit were all guna die in space aaaa

ID28YB: on the upside italics!

ID17NC: fuck how do you backspace backspacebacmlnpi

ID13JA: SARGANT MY CAPCLOSK IS FUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ID01JA: Like shit it is, PrivatE.

ID01JA: DamN.

ID98NZ: fifty Nine bottles of beer ON THE WALL, take one DOWN pass itaround FIftynIneBOTTLES on Thewall!!!!!

"I'll be so glad when they lock it down to emergency communications again," Jade said from John's other side, and sighed.

"At least the bosses forbid them to use colors," John said, trying for consoling. (He kind of failed, mostly because he was snickering.)

Jake chuckled from his seat at the end of the line, on Jade's other side, but didn't add anything. He hadn't really been talking much ever since they took off, and since they couldn't lean out of their seats it was really hard to see what face he was making. John wondered if he was worried about --

Of course he was worried. And if John thought about all the reasons why, he was going to start to fret too. His stomach was already in a knot behind the adrenaline grin, no need to double down on it.

"Hey Jake," he threw out, with no idea what kind of light-conversation topic he was going to pull out. "D'you think--"

"Say, chaps, I think I feel lighter!" Jake interrupted.

"Huh, yeah, maybe?" John tried to bounce his leg and wasn't sure if there was a difference yet. It was hard to feel the lessening weight of his body when it was such a knot of anticipation already, and when he couldn't move. "Wow. Are we reaching cruising speed already? There was no announcement--"

The door opened and Corporal Vantas stepped through.

(Not Karkat. There was a difference.)

"Woohoo, you clean up nice!" Roxy said with a whistle as he stalked closer in his alien boots and his space-black flight suit, head bare but for the jarringly pink headset nestled against his horns. John noticed all over again that his skin was slate gray, that his eyes were violently red and yellow.

That he moved through the heavy gravity of the rocket's push like it wasn't even there, when John himself -- at least at first -- would have wobbled.

"What mean -- no, I don't care."

He sat beside Jake in the free seat at the end that should have gone to Dirk, and disappeared from John's view, what with the helmets and the protruding edges of the bucket seats. John swallowed and put a smile on his face, even though no one was going to see him. For a second he had thought Karkat was coming toward him. Haha, silly.

"No more talk with the Generals, Karkat?" Jane asked, tone forcefully light.

"Mm. No."

"Talk with us now? Do you have anything important to say or just hanging out?"

John's eyes flitted over the logs on his glasses, the higher ranks starting to organize to separate the chatter by platoons. It was still mostly banter and bad jokes.

"...Hanging out? Yes. Hanging out. Here, not... other here. I'm Corporal not General, it's not fucking right I'm with them."

It was the exact same tone the Marines John knew used when they got offended when their chain of command got dumbass ideas. Heh.

Maybe a little hesitation. Maybe just the translation issues.

JH: haha, you guys *wish* you could type in colors!

ID28YB: if by colors u mean rainbow fruity goodness then sure :(

ID28YB: i wanted mauve goddamn!!

JH: maybe better that you can't have it, echidna would have had to cut you. :'(

(Urgh. He missed Rose. He wished she were well enough to fight with them today.)

Jade joined the conversation, asked Karkat about... John wasn't listening. What the politicos had told him, when he was alone with them without a translator. Stuff. Boring stuff.

Karkat's low, gravelly voice kept slipping into his ears no matter how hard he tried not to pay attention to the words. ("You talk I fall on you a lot. Maybe you want --")

Anyway when the loudspeaker in the wall started talking he was pretty glad.

"Attention troops, cruise speed has been reached. Stay seated until your immediate superior allows you to stand..."

Two clicks echoed around him, Jade and Roxy undoing their security harnesses in unison.

"Oh my god, I'm so stiff," Jade groaned. "I'm going to check on Remington, anyone wanna come with?"

"You sit still for longer stretches of time in battle," Jane pointed out as she freed herself in turn, as Jake was still fighting his clasps.

"In battle my seat is perfectly adapted to my butt!"

The girls started to file out, talking about butts, and John almost heard Dave mentioning butt massages, almost mentioned it himself but. No. That would have been wrong even if two thirds of the lot weren't family.

He thought of following them. He would just skip along, snicker and stretch his legs and tease the Marines and...

"See you guys later," he said instead, waving without looking, heart a pulsating knot in his throat. "Karkat and I have to practice the telepathy-typing thing. Well, mostly me."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, listened to the tread of boots on the hard plastic floor.

He didn't need to look in order to know which one of them was Karkat, getting up and moving one seat down the line.

Leaving one seat empty between them. Huh. John wasn't sure how to take that one.

"Huhn. You want telepathy now?"

John winced to himself. "It's pretty much now or in the middle of battle, isn't it?"

A beat of silence, and then Karkat grunted an acknowledgement. "Mm."

"Mm," John agreed, and kept on not making a move toward his own headset. Karkat's was already in place, possibly already turned on. John just had to tap.

"Maybe we speak and then headsets," Karkat suggested.

"... Yeah, maybe that."

John made a superfluous noise of agreement, and then groaned and pushed his helmet off his head, tucked it between his feet. He took his gloves off next, dropped them inside the helmet, and then buried both hands in his hair to scratch and rub with vigorous frustration. It did not soothe him as much as he had hoped for.

"This is the worst timing," he groaned, muffled, as he curled forward until he could prop his elbows on his thighs and lace his fingers behind his head. His spine cracked.

The worst timing, and the worst thing. He wasn't sure he'd have taken it much better elsewhere, with more time to take care of the fallout. It sucked. His head was a mess just when he absolutely needed to be as perfectly in the zone as he had ever been in his entire life.

"I'm sorry," Karkat said quietly. "We do big things today. I was stupid. Even if you said oh yes good, kissing! it's other things in our head and we can't have other things in our head now. I didn't do the good thing."

John groaned quietly, face prickling with heat, and closed his eyes. "No, it's... Yeah. Yeah, okay, that wasn't -- the right time. But you... You were right. I was looking."

He hadn't managed to stop looking even once since he'd seen Karkat naked, coming out of his slime. Maybe he had even been looking before that, playing it off as fascination with Karkat's alienness. Kind of like 'haha no I just like looking at his horns because they're weird, so random amirite!' only with everything else on top of the horns, like his little bitey teeth on goth-black lips and his bare toes and the fit of his goddamn dress suit at the summit--

"So why--" Karkat fell silent, drew in a breath, and then released it in a long, hissing sigh and muttered under his breath in alienese. John couldn't even offer a guess from the tone this time around.

Why did you kiss back, he could have been asking. Why did you stop kissing. Why did you never make a move. Why did you make a move now. Why are you such an idiotic mess.

Answer was the same for all of them, anyway. "I don't know."

"Why do you not know that?!" Karkat shot back -- more incredulous than angry, but John winced anyway. "How you look at a people and don't know, and other people tell you 'yes, them' and you say 'haha, no' and you're wrong?"

"Oh, shut up!" John snapped as he threw himself back into his chair, his arms coming up to cross tight against his ribs. Even now he couldn't look toward Karkat at all, shoulders curled in and away from the other man. His stomach felt like someone was squeezing it with both hands; his face still prickled with mortification. It was awful, he wanted to get up and run just to get moving, stop having to think on it -- leave the feeling behind -- but he knew better than to think it would work. He knew better and he still wanted to try, flinching and too tense; what a shit condition for battle. Fuck. "I know, okay? I'm the most stupid jerk--"

Karkat's hand was hot even through the glove.

He tugged on John's elbow, lightly, squeezed a little.

"Zhann."

"... Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," he said, sounding tired, and his hand fell from John's arm. "It's shit words."

John sneaked him a look; Karkat wasn't looking directly at John either, mouth pinched in discomfort, eyes dim somehow.

"Is it I'm alien and it's gross? So you don't in your head because ... haha, gross, can't be true--"

"No!" John spluttered, turning in his seat as much as he could to face him. "No, no, you being an alien is -- it is weird, but it's not bad, it's just not normal. It's... You're a guy?"

Karkat looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Huhn?"

God. It figured. For all the joking about Karkat being gay that John had been doing like an asshole, he'd mentioned an old girlfriend too, and the cat girl who liked him that he didn't want to lead on, and it had never felt like she was disqualified because of boobs.

Also -- ugh, thanks Dirk and his casual beach gossipping -- Karkat thought Jade's butt was nice, and so was Mr. Strider's. So. Bisexual.

The way he looked now, baffled and not liking it, it was a little like he had never heard of someone who wasn't. Oh boy. What a mess. John raked a hand through his hair, tried to get back into explaining mode.

"It's -- we're mammals, remember? We need a boy and a girl to. To make little humans. That means normally we don't want other males, or other females, because -- there can be no babies? So a boy doesn't have a boyfriend, he has a girlfriend, and... The other way around, too. Boy and girl, yes, boy and boy no?"

"... Huhn."

"I mean. Some men like men! Dirk and Mr. Strider like men. But they knew it pretty early on. They knew when they were kids -- when they were small? -- that they were like that. And I've never." He swallowed. "I've never. Thought about a guy. Like that."

"Oh."

"And it's really weird." He gave a twitch of a shrug, looked away. "... And I don't know if it's because of the telepathy."

"Oh," Karkat said again, but this time he sounded stricken, not baffled.

John dropped a hand on Karkat's forearm across the empty seat, patted awkwardly -- wanted to squeeze or hold his wrist (or hold his hand) but that was just -- even such a short touch made his stomach twist with odd queasiness, his face flush back to maximum redness. "It's okay, buddy. I don't -- it's just. ... Don't feel bad, okay, that's stupid, I just -- it is weird, but --"

Karkat's breastbone beeped. Scowling down, he fished his tablet out of his collar, unrolled it, shook it stiff. Oh. Little countdown shown in rows of dots, going one by one from red to dark.

Five seconds to a dot, fifteen dots to a row, and how many rows... Hm. Ten minutes left before... John wasn't sure. They weren't going to be there yet in ten minutes.

"My mech. Gotta wake up, it's slow." Karkat waved a brisk hand, eyebrows furled in worry.

John closed his eyes. "Do you want to practice the mind-typing?"

"It's not want," Karkat grunted, slanting him a look. "... It's going to be bad."

"Mm."

"We need bigger time, not this," he added, tapping the tablet with the outside curve of a claw.

John tried out a dry shrug, and thought to himself that he really didn't enjoy it, that 'if you fuck this up you will have fucked everything up' feeling. Dread was for the battlefield, not for stupid interpersonal relationships.

"Probably. We can keep working on it once we're in our mechs, too..."

Karkat snorted, replied something in alienese that had to be 'We had better.'

Yeah, okay. John just had to put his helmet back on.

"We don't have time for this crap!" he growled -- whined, if he wanted to be fair, something strangled and pleading, frustrated.

"Mnh."

John curled forward, hands cupping his temples, elbows on his knees. "Damn it. I don't -- I can't -- in ten minutes, that's too--"

There was no way he was going to be able to stop thinking about all the things he didn't want to think about, all the things -- the petty, selfish things -- he didn't want Karkat to know about.

Like the incontrovertible fact that no matter what John figured out he wanted, whatever compromises they found with each other, there was no magic button that would make Karkat stay.

He'd been in Karkat's head too much to imagine for one second he would weigh out John and the dubious safety Earth offered him against his people -- his people abused and thrown out like shark bait to be mowed down by enemies and superiors alike -- and choose John.

John was pretty sure Karkat wouldn't even choose Gamzee.

"Do you want sex."

John flinched around and back so fast he hit his shoulder blade against one of the edges of the seat.

Karkat was looking back at him -- steady, John thought at first, but his lower eyelids were tight, his cheeks just a little dusky. The heat on John's face cooled down just barely at that.

"I ask so it's not more alien bullshit thing. It's what you want?"

"Oh my god," John protested, looking around wildly in case anyone had managed to open the sealing doors to the small room without the hiss of pneumatics warning them. "I don't know! I'm not -- I swear I'm not lying, I don't -- this is freaking me out."

"I see that, dumbass," Karkat said, but almost nicely. "You're so bad in your head, I don't know you can get that much a clusterfuck."

John groaned, slumped forward again.

"... Mouth thing, was good?"

"... Yeah."

"Touching?"

John gave a little grunt, eyes closed.

"Want where?"

"Why do you need to know?!"

There was a moment of silence like Karkat rolling his eyes, or maybe just watching him, waiting. John didn't check.

"Zhann."

"... Horns? Maybe your hands. I kind of. Want to see your claws. We could sit close? We could--" He choked. His face prickled so hot it almost hurt. He wanted to touch Karkat's face, follow his nose with a fingertip -- he wanted Karkat to allow that, the trust and closeness it would mean.

"That's where?" Karkat grumbled, gave John a frustrated look. John tore his eyes away, ducked his head. Where had he -- when they had kissed (his mouth tingled like an echo) -- when Karkat was so close, almost on his lap, what had he --

"Your thighs," he whispered, dizzy with nerves and shame. "Inside." He clenched his knees together, hands knotted between them -- oh, Karkat's legs clamped down on his hand, all warm and snug. Muscles bunching, straining. So close to his -- his. Oh shit, John couldn't pop a boner inside his flight suit, not while Karkat was watching, while they were hashing out how much of a total clusterfuck this was going to be.

There was silence for too long -- three seconds, ten, every single one tightening his shoulders, knotting his guts worse, nausea and heat mingling dizzyingly.

"... Put your head thing on, Zhann."

John groaned out loud. "Are you kidding me, I will die. I don't want you to -- there's too much, it's. We can't!"

But when he glanced at the tablet still across Karkat's lap they were down to the last two rows of dots and it was now or never. More accurately, now or on the battlefield when they were supposed to coordinate two forces that had never fought together against ... however many of those aliens who wouldn't have followed some random high-ranked asshole from nowhere into open rebellion.

He shoved the helmet down before he could think about it twice. It felt too tight, like he was going to strangle, to be crushed.

Karkat felt too close; an empty seat between them and John still remembered him in Excalibur's cockpit, how easy it would have been to slip on his lap and kiss and--

(Yeah okay definitely sexual there) flitted through his mind from Karkat, alongside ... surprise, oh wow, so violent, stop feeling, not the end of the world --

John flashed back to his previous thought -- sitting next to each other and his hand trapped between strong thighs and oh shit he was getting hard, no, no --

(hand pushing higher) echoed back briefly, edged with curiosity, a spark of -- Karkat shook his head, slapped his own hands down onto his knees, hard enough to sting. John startled. "Okay!" Karkat said, staring straight ahead.

He was maybe smiling a little.

Okay yes we need to talk later I don't fuck and run (do you?)

John spluttered. "How would I know!" I've never/and run where anyway we're on an island!

Take your mech, zip off? (laughter) (mister space pilot, so locked in.) Wait, never? How old-- oh right no one around only older adults and your tangleclan/friends and you can't with half of them because blah blah mammals (and not boys? Why not boys. Aliens what the fuck.)

John groaned again, hands on his helmet since he couldn't get to his face. Could have Rose or Roxy! Roxy was my first kiss! (haha sloppy-alright-nice but I saw you fingers up your nose too much as a kid sorry John I like you tender-nice but it all fizzed out) and Rose kissed me on a dare and it was like kissing Jane it was horrible.

And that was the entire fucking extent of your romantic and sexual experience oh my dear little dark gods that's pitiful. (sharp/teal/lovely-blade moaning over me (tight-soft-deep) other hurried hands in dark corners--) shit sorry--

Oh. Of course Karkat had had sex before. Of course he would know more, of course John was hopelessly late and useless -- he couldn't even bring himself to think about, about kissing, never mind what happened later, he was a kid--

The tablet beeped.

"Shit," Karkat said in English, and another few words that echoed as bounce me around on a bladed dildo. Which, yeowch. He turned to stare at John, already half out of his seat and leaning forward, a claw-tipped hand clenched on the armrest. "(I gotta get going now. John, do you--)"

He was leaning forward like he was about to kiss John, if John hadn't been wearing a helmet, and John knew full well that wasn't at all what he'd been doing, knew because he was in Karkat's brain, and still couldn't help but fear-hope for it.

(I'll kiss you if we win) flashed between them, too fast to hold back. No wait sorry (god it'd feel nice) we have to talk first and -- not now, cannot be now.

John laughed, mostly from nerves. I'll come with you (sit in cockpit think tappy thoughts oh my god they'll love transcripts of your foul mouth be hilarious what if I accidentally transcribe the sex thoughts too oh no oh no--)

Karkat's hand caught his wrist.

"(Do you trust me,)" he said low and intense, in an alienese that John almost didn't notice as not English from how strong the mind-echo was.

The response came embarrassingly instantaneous. "Of course I --" He swallowed. What do you want me to do?

Okay. (You are ridiculous) (thank you.)

Karkat crinkled his golden-red eyes at John and for the first time John realized he doesn't mind how I feel.

Crushes happen, Karkat replied almost casually, with a little pleased-flattered-glad trill running underneath. Crushes happen to me in particular all the damn time so I have no stones to throw. (I know this one is worse, tangled-odd with headsets but it was kind of predictable too especially because of the headsets.)

A harsh beep.

No more time. Follow me?

Follow you where, John wondered, and then Karkat showed him.

His mind nudged closer. Body alive with battle arousal, heart thumping too fast, just barely shaky in his body and he need-wanted John's cheerful-calm interest, his certainty. They should absolutely not kiss before the battle because he would cling and waste time hoping for time to stop instead and also they really needed to hash that shit out but oh, so smug that he'd been right all along. His face winced briefly at whatever echo John sent back, and then he --

(Terrifying/not right/I will never manage alone.)

John's gorge rose. (can't let that happen/you're not alone (I'm not alone either can't be please god--)

(Good,) rang like a bell between them, and then Karkat's direct, almost forceful Dive(/echo/merge) with me.

John's hands closed tight enough on the armrests that the hard plastic cracked under his fingertips at the thought, visualized like two discordant graphs slowly entering resonance, like rebounding, endless echoes -- the pattering, muted thunder of armies in lockstep. But -- but too close so many things I can't share, how?! Can't sync if we're like this I'm mortified (want to die/hide/wash it out of my brain) you're -- you're --

I want to fight. (Scared to fight.) I need to fight. Silly flurry of thoughts -- bothersome, I have them too (misjudged when to tell people about psychics, misjudged you, (this is not a romcom where you are the heroine what the fuck Vantas,) could have endangered/maybe did endanger the operation twice) we can sync on that! (would be bad). Or we can sync on --

Mechs. Piloting.

Winning the goddamn battle.

We had better not think of beds, John sent Karkat, smile shaking on his face. Karkat snorted back, crooking him a smile.

They bumped foreheads -- or forehead and helmet -- and straightened up, because it was time to go.

They stood (John stood) and walked to the door, one-two, one-two. (Easier if we walk in sync, they agreed, and wondered if it would also work mirrored. But they would experiment later, John, now where was the hangar?)

It was… odd, not quite seamless, little twitches of individual thoughts -- not like last time, at the conference.

It was easier when a Marine came across them -- Sergeant, look at the shoulder bars -- and said, "I was assigned to escort, uh, you, Corporal Vantas..."

"We're coming," they assured her with two mouths (unnecessary) (but which is it again.) "How long do we have left?"

"Four minutes," she said, carefully expressionless in her bulking power armor, the helmet politely open still as she placed herself opposite from the claws side.

Can you blame her though? haha.

It's not like I didn't help patch those weaknesses.

How'd you even find -- oh, yeah.

Of course horn sense would perceive the electricity field where crucial wires ran, the way a solid plate trembled under a headbutt at the weaker places, of course Karkat's terror would crank his pitiful amount of sensitivity up higher and the luck of frenetic, half-blind panic do the rest.

The upgraded armor would be a little harder but they had the brute strength to punch through and the claws to tear wiring free. Should be easy -- but the Marines weren't the enemy. Strong-respectful-friendly-safe. Distant-confused too (we're too young for how much weight/responsibility we carry) but nice, mostly.

The bay where they were keeping (dad) the mech was empty, if well-guarded; the Marines had taken the warning that the biomechs sometimes ate people to heart, it seemed. Which was hilarious, because (dad) was way too tired to lunge and chomp, which... wasn't funny at all, actually. (When they won, the first thing they'd do would be to put him to a feeding/repairs station.)

They scaled the black-shelled side of the mech, pushing and pulling each body from handhold to foothold -- chinks in the shell, the edge of a plate. (They avoided the gaping cavity of its ripped-away manipulating-arm, no matter how convenient it would have been for a step-up.) The edge of the cockpit opening was cracked open like a wound, ready to be pushed through -- convenient but loose because dad was tired; worrying but nothing to be done for now -- thank god they'd gotten the flight suit back because those weird cotton clothes were a clinging, heavy pain when soaked through with neural gel...

Oh right. John's flight suit might not react quite well to the neural fluid now that dad-mech knew it. What if it dissolved? Haha, naked in the cockpit. Or more like half-naked with strategically placed, slowly widening holes, talk about a porn flick setting. Didn't help that the dissolving/digesting gels used to clean dirt and dead skin cells might also trigger if Dad felt contrary enough and also eat through yeah okay, that was an unsexy thought. John/Karkat crouched, one body on the solid edge, one across the cracked-open plates, and then sinking, eyes closed.

It was the perfect temperature inside, but that never made that first deep breath of gel any easier. He breathed air deeper with the body still outside, like the unencumbered-lungs feeling could help (it helped, even though oxygen wasn't going to come through telepathically. Bodies were stupidly easy to trick.) and settled inside within the nest of coils, seeking out the one that went -- ow, yeah, there, in the flight suit slot at the base of his neck, between the vertebrae.

Wake up, he thought at it, through the neural gel and through the spinal tap, letting it feel his nerve impulses so they could sync more thoroughly. Wake up, (flight systems, weapon arms, no more standby) there's a battle coming.

Once the process was started it was a matter of waiting until it was sufficiently awake (and burning through the last of its energy.) The Karkat body wiggled into place, let the other tentacles slot into their ports to read his every muscle twitch, so the mech would be ready to move before he even thought it coherently enough to decide exactly what movement he wanted, and then settled down.

It was easier to keep in sync if they weren't both doing different things. The John body waited until the other one was at rest and then stood up, let himself slide along rib covers until gravity flung him off entirely, still pretty high over the ground; he landed in a perfectly timed crouch, laughing a little in admiration (Gods of the Devouring-dark but this body was convenient) and walked out of the hangar.

The Marines at the door didn't look at him like a stranger-threat or even a superior-officer-threat, more like a low-caste soldier might look at a beloved high-blue who cared-possessive for them (still dangerous in the abstract, never quite controllable, but theirs.) It was so strange, so normal.

"Is Corporal Vantas going to stay inside his mech?" the sergeant asked him, falling into step.

"Yes, Sergeant," he assured her soberly. "Until we go."

They weren't sure why that got them a weird look, but it was probably nothing to fret about. The metal mechs' bay door was just there -- similarly guarded but they let John/Karkat pass without a word; one of them nodded at him, fierce and grim-eyed. He nodded back the same way, and then -- oh -- worried that it might worry them, because John usually joked before a battle and soldiers didn't like things to be different. Bad luck. But by then they were at the lift and it was a bit too late to fret about the mental state of grunts.

They opened the cockpit and walked in, swung around to sit. The butt-hollow still felt wrong.

So many buttons and toggles and it was a wonder John never got them wrong regarding which did what. (Heh.)

The arm-rest where Karkat had sat ... for a moment John-alone was sent reeling, buzzing, experiencing it from the other side -- the tingle of excitement-certainty, that wordless moment when you finally knew the other person was interested, had been flirting back, the pleasure-relief of feeling wanted and known. So touching-surprising-soft to find John so far from cocky carelessness, from being sure of Karkat.

It was sweet, Karkat felt. John stared at the screens he was bringing to life and read the words he knew by heart like they might have changed somehow, tried to think war thoughts.

Weapons check, Karkat thought, tinged with apology-for-the-distraction, tinged with fondness/you-are-sweet.

John went through a weapons check.

They'd left him Excalibur's usual monofilament swords, breakable as they were -- one-hit kills was more Dave's thing than John's -- but he had his hammer too, and the more usual set of bombs and missiles.

Also two EMP bombs. He thought back to Karkat shying away from the microwave and the difference in yield and --

Yeowch vicious yeah that'll work. Not through the home-ship hull (gotta shield from star radiations) but it'll work. How come no one generals-making-plans told me we had that -- wait fuck I'm stupid of course no one would tell me when they were still considering using it on me. It'll work on the biomechs and probably the troop transports but I don't know about the range.

Excal's got good radiation shields, so we can get pretty close and make sure of the kill, John reminded him, and then Karkat reminded him they weren't supposed to wade in, just watch-coordinate from the back.

Like that'll last, they both thought, so closely that maybe neither one had thought it first, that they'd just both had the exact same amused-despairing reaction.

They went through the flight check in comfortable, whispering quiet.

#battlefield terra #asuka writes #this dates from 2017 sobs #homestuck #jonhkat

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cozzzynook · 1 year ago

Text

Having thoughts of secretly sparked Bumblebee.

He knew something was up when he kept opting out of his favorite energon even giving away his secret stash of his favorite minerals that tasted overly sweet, his favorite secret indulgence.

His tanks couldn’t handle the thought of the stuff and his smell sensor kept malfunctioning every time he smelled the stuff. He snuck from his room late one night, servos nervously fiddling as he tried to work up the nerve to get some fuel into his systems but he simply just couldn’t bring himself to.

His concerns grew as his tank churned almost all hours of the day purging without fail after each transformation. He was thankful his team was none the wiser since he didn’t like being worried over but he knew something was very wrong when he tried to transform into his alt mode and the world went black.

He was thankful it happened after his patrol when he’d already commed the team letting them know he was going on a long lone drive and he was, truthfully he was.

Until he felt so dizzy his processor was faulting on even remembering his name let alone transforming. He doesn’t remember hitting the ground but he woke to pains wracking his frame and joints all over. His hub indicated he’d been asleep for the past seven hours.

He was in so much shock he almost missed the reason his self diagnostic scans provided him as to why he was in such peculiar shape.

Sparked, his hub read.

Sparked.

Him, bumblebee, sparked.

If he wasn’t having a hard time with his air intakes venting before he did now.

Both time and his intakes stopped all together.

The lack of fuel intake, the intolerance to his favorite meal and snack, the tiredness he felt no matter how deep a recharge. The slight raise to his chassis where his spark laid hidden all made so much sense now even if he had half a mind to try and deny it.

He suddenly was overcome with the necessary energy to scramble into a half sitting position and open his spark chamber. Getting a first hand look at the bright glow of not only his own spark but two tiny sparks that were hugged against both sides of his own.

His servos fell and he couldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t believe nor stop staring at his vulnerable and open spark chamber that not only housed his life but two others.

He was sparked.

Bumblebee was sparked and he was going to become a creator in ayear by Earth’s standard time.

‘I’m going to be a creator..I’m..i’m going to be someones carrier,’ his processor drenched in distraught as his faceplates remained in shock. A stream was threatening to leak from his optics when a thought quite literally slammed his spark chamber shut.

Thudding footsteps, heavy peds, glaring red that were once lulling yellow always besides his long time conjuxed. Those four glowing red optics were a sight he was beyond gifted to behold and the little sliver of a smile and two warm fields accompanying it had him melting just the same as he did the day he saw and felt them.

He wasn’t sure why the two felt the need to see him, to touch him, to give caring and wanting touches to him when they were so perfect for each other and far too different from him.

Thoughts like these rang in his processor more often than he would ever care to admit.

He kept his insecurities and lack of assurance along with the rampant fluctuations of his em field close at spark. He never let the another feel the emotions warring inside him no matter how every bot who knew him claimed he wore his spark on his sleeve.

‘I can’t tell them..not..not about this..they’re conjux with each other. I’m..I’m no one. I’m just a momentary interest to spice things up in the berth.’

‘When the war ends, hopefully at a time we’re alive to see it, things will change and they won’t want me anymore…’

‘I’m just a pleasure bot they would use during our time away from our factions…sure they snuck me on board the Nemesis more often than not..but..they’re conjuxed..’

The flashes of the purple tank mech sitting in his large lab, working on a classified project Bee never bothered to ask about. The scientist sliding an optic over at the communications officer who watched the monitors of not only Earth but other territories commanded under Decepticon reign that again Bee pays no real mind to.

He’s not there to gain information just like the tank of a mech and the slim master spy don’t bother asking him for information nor do they try to gather intel from any data pads Bee brings with him.

He knew deep down both would find it illogical under any other circumstance to not take advantage of the opportunity given and yet neither crossed that boundary just as he never crossed theirs.

Only now Bee feels he’s crossed something much worse than a simple boundary.

He’s played with fire and now he’s burning along the frays as he struggles to intake through his vents no matter how much he presses along his chassis.

He slept with two conjuxed mechs.

Two very dangerous mechs known as the SIC and TIC of the decepticon army.

His dark thoughts reared their ugly heads at the front of his processor glimpsing at all the times he turned his optics from the conjuxs loving displays towards each other. The scientist was not a fan of touch or bots in his personal space neither was the communications officer but for each other they made exception.

So Bee avoided initiating any touch between the two along with allowing them to enter his space freely whenever they so pleased even going along with letting them initiate both interfacing and after face care.

The two knew exactly what the other wanted and Bee was happy to take whatever form of affection they would give him. Whether it be simple cleaning him up around his valve and laying comfortably in the berth to getting comfortable in their arms as they both held him on either side or each other.

Deep down he knew he wasn’t special to the two, he was a passing fling that somehow managed to go on for about an Earth years time. He was young and foolish falling for the quiet and mysterious sparks of a conjux couple but he couldn’t help himself. He figured he could keep the feelings close at spark not letting another soul know how he truly felt about the pair. Not even the science officer nor communications spymaster knew he was in love with them.

And seeing as how they were loyal to each other and the cause and not some young foolish bot who managed to get sparked on accident that was on the opposite side of their faction, he knew he needed to keep it that way.

His friends, comrades and family could never know about the sparks he was carrying. Bee would be put in the stockades or worst, they’d rip out his sparklings and send him to be tortured and have his processor torn to bits for information looking through his memory core and hard drives for any intel he may have given or received during his time with the two decepticons.

It wouldn’t matter if he was telling the truth in never giving up intel to the two nor would all his past acts of fighting for the autobot cause be remembered.

He was a traitor.

A sparked traitor who laid in the berths of two highly dangerous mechs who would offline him and their sparks the moment they discovered his condition and status.

He had to get out of there.

He needed to leave Jasper Nevada and with it his connections to both his friends and faction and the two mechs he grew to love.

He couldn’t transformer into his alt mode at the moment out of fear he would purge and momentarily offline again. So he scrapped his comms to his team, hiding his em field and spark signature before taking one last look in the direction of their base before turning and walking off.

If he were lucky he would make it to the cities edge and head out before his team sent any search parties for him.

He was confident the SIC and TIC wouldn’t be troubled once he didn’t show at their usual meeting spot. If he hadn’t passed out and discovered said reasoning for his strange behavior and symptoms he would’ve been on his way to meet with them.

He didn’t think they would be concerned maybe upset at wasting their time and any fuel energon on coming to meet with him but he’s sure after some time away from him they would move on, forgetting him in favor of time with each other.

Flashes of the two having things go back to normal swallowed his processor whole with every step he took away from the city. Images of the purple tank working in his lab as the spymaster cuddled with Ravage who would often curl in Bee’s lap rubbing along his chassis and tank. Bee didn’t think much of it when the feline cassette started doing it he just hoped it meant she was warming up to him.

Though, none of Soundwaves cassettes actually disliked him as far as he knew, they each cuddled up to him one way or another its just more recently they all started to make an engine rumbling noise that had him falling into recharge. He couldn’t for the life of himself fall into recharge in his own berth but every time Frenzy and Ravage laid on his lap and purred with their engines he was able to fall into recharge.

Neither Shockwave nor Soundwave ever disturbed him when this happened even as the habit grew more and more with frequency. Frenzy and Ravage had a habit now of sticking close to him and preferring being by his side whenever he set foot onto their base or met in their secret spot.

Bee should’ve guessed then that something was wrong but he hadn’t, he couldn’t have known it meant he was carrying since he’s never carried before. He was just glad he could recharge in peace after his steadily piling symptoms were leaving him drained.

‘I hope they don’t miss me too much,’ Bee mused to himself with worrying servos, his pedes hurt the farther he walked and he briefly wondered just how difficult his carrying would become since it was his first. Being a carrier meant having to know all there was to it in case of accidental sparking.

Going through his processor he really should have seen all the clear signs that showed he was with sparklings.

‘They won’t miss me..they were just following basic instincts,’ he reasoned with himself, spark and helm hurting at the thought. ‘It’s a good thing,’ he mused with a churning tank, ‘now I won’t have to worry about them telling the two.’

He felt a chill run down his spinal cord making his servos rub at his middle, the soft surface was still flat but the muscle he’d long sculpted there was gone. Another sign of his carrying clear as day that he hoped neither his team nor the two decepticons noticed. If Ravage and Frenzy could sense the sparklings within him from their more primal instincts it was only a matter of time before the two mechs began to notice.

Bee truly hoped neither cassettes told of his being sparked.

‘Just have to make it out of here,’ he thought to himself, rubbing the spot that housed not only his spark but two more he’d already decided to protect with his.

As he walked out of the city limits that nights and headed for a new destination away from the autobots and decepticons, he missed the warp gate opening to his last known spark location. Two large mechs scanning the area as Frenzy took to the skies with Soundwave following in pursuit and Ravage sniffing out the scent of the little autobot. Taking off with Shockwave following closely, both silent mechs held an air of promise with the intent to permanently offline the bot they believed took their future mate.

I love this pairing - all three togethe and the pairing shockwave and soundwave.

Gonna write about shockwave/blitzwing/bumblebee next or just shockbee angst next 👀

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gumnut-logic · 7 months ago

Text

It started with a bang.

Lots of bad things start with a bang, but this one wasn’t obvious.

A stray meteor hit Five. Wasn’t the first time, doubtful it would be the last, but Brains had built her strong enough to resist the majority of non-dinosaur-extincting rock events.

Most of them.

This one got through.

It was tiny, but it was enough to mess with some critical systems and it had both a worried Scott on the line and Brains jumping up and down as both John and Eos hurried to make repairs.

Virgil asked John to come down, but he chose not to.

Apparently his ‘bird needed nursing and Virgil, if he was honest, could respect that.

He really wished he hadn’t.

Being on the more paranoid end of the spectrum considering International Rescue’s history of getting the not so lucky end of anything, Virgil checked in with his space brother every half hour.

For the next twenty-four.

John was sympathetic until about the eighteen-hour mark. After that, he became snarlier each time Virgil poked him.

“Virgil, the damage has been repaired.”

“Humour me.”

“Why?”

Why? Virgil wasn’t sure, but he was sure that he needed to check on his brother. “Because it is my job.”

“Then maybe you should check your own readings because you are being beyond ridiculous.” And John cut the connection.

Great. He’d pissed John off – never a good thing to do.

But half an hour later, Virgil prodded him again. “John, report.”

“I’m fine, Virgil. Go to bed.”

Virgil peered closer at his brother’s hologram and frowned. “John?”

“What?!”

Virgil’s fingers darted over the sensor readouts from his brother’s spacesuit. “How are you feeling?”

“Annoyed. If you don’t stop this, I’m going to ask Scott to stop you from doing this.”

“Go for it.” He frowned at the oxygen saturation stat. “You sure you are feeling okay? Eos, can you give me an atmospheric reading on Five?” The numbers were all good, but something felt wrong.

Something had his hackles up, but he couldn’t identify what.

“All atmospheric reading are within the expected range, Virgil. John needs his rest, why are you continuing to disturb him?”

He stared at his brother floating far above. “I’m not sure, Eos.”

John rolled his eyes. “Then get back to me when you are.” His brother cut the connection.

Virgil sat back in his father’s chair. Maybe John was right. Maybe he was just edgy because of the meteor collision, a reminder of the brutality of space and his brother’s vulnerability so far above them. Maybe it was time for bed.

He lasted another hour before he commed John again.

“Virgil, whyyyy?”

Again, he ran his fingers over the sensors, again they tried to reassure him everything was okay.

But nothing was okay. Virgil was sure of it.

He just didn’t know what or why.

“I’m coming up.”

John stared at him. “What? Why?”

“Can’t I drop in to see my brother?”

“It’s 3am!”

“I’m a night owl.”

“I’m going to kick your ass, Virg. I’m tired. You’ve been bugging me for hours. Leave me alone!” The comm line cut again.

And Virgil’s hackles hit orbit.

John never called him ‘Virg’.

Ever.

“Eos?”

It took a moment. “Yes, Virgil?”

“Could you please lower the elevator?”

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Too bad. I need to check on his health.”

Eos didn’t answer.

“His health is important, Eos.”

Another long moment where Virgil considered waking Alan or Scott.

“Lowering elevator.”

There was no clarity in Eos’ voice as to her opinion but she was doing what he requested and that was all that mattered.

Half an hour and several layers of atmosphere later, Virgil was thankful for whatever sense that set him off.

He found John floating aimlessly in the central hub of Five. Above the vista of the planet, the holographics system was displaying a three-sixty view of family photos.

Scott grinned at him from the east, a baby Allie from the south pole, his father from the north, Gordy dressed in squid-print swimwear to the west and their beloved mother smiled her familiar smile from somewhere near Africa.

Virgil’s own picture took out South America next to Grandma in the South Pacific.

“John?”

His brother startled. “You! What do you want?”

Virgil eyed him. “Eos, can you give me those atmospheric readings again?”

“Yes, Virgil.” She rattled off the necessary numbers.

Unfortunately, they did not match the portable air sensor Virgil held in his hand. “Your readings are incorrect, Eos. Run a diagnostic.”

There was a pause as John continued to frown at him.

“Diagnostic complete. There are no errors in the sensor network, Virgil.”

“There is a contaminant in your air supply, John.”

“So you finally found an excuse for being annoying.” His brother flipped mid-air and stared up at the hologram of their father. “You hear that, Dad? Virgil finally has a reason for driving us all insane!” That last was shouted in Virgil’s direction along with a glare.

Virgil ignored it.

“John, I want you to come down to Tracy Island.”

“Why?” It was belligerence itself.

“Because you aren’t safe up here. And I miss you.”

“How can you miss me when you never leave me alone?!”

Virgil pressed his lips together and hit his comms. “Tracy Island, we have an Alert Gold.” The command would wake Scott and probably the rest of the house. It was an alert designed to help protect their most remote family member.

“You’re kidding.”

“No, John, I’m not.”

And John burst out laughing. “Do you ever hear yourself?”

Virgil didn’t answer.

“Obviously not. Other wise you would be insane by now. Or you would nag yourself to death.”

John didn’t mean it. He was under the influence. At a guess, there might be a leak in the thruster assembly, leaking oxidiser into Five. But why the sensors hadn’t picked it up…

“So are you going to tie me up and strap me to a bed because I don’t meet your standards of what I should be? Trample me until the numbers add up correctly?”

“John, Virgil is trying to help you.” Eos’ voice rang like a bell throughout the station.

John flinched. “So, you’re on his side now?”

“I wasn’t aware Virgil had a side.”

John grunted and glared his brother again. “You’ve infected her with your nagging.”

“We are just concerned about you. You are not yourself.”

His brother closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Thunderbird Five, status?!” Scott’s voice practically screamed a combination of worry and command over comms.

“You told! Dobbed me into big brother so he can nag me, too! Why can’t you all just leave me alone?!” John pushed off from the wall and threw himself towards the exit.

Virgil caught him mid-air.

It was a mistake. John was in his native environment. He flipped and slipped out of Virgil’s grasp. The engineer grabbed at his brother and missed as John used him as a launch point to finally reach the exit.

Before Virgil could regain his equilibrium, John had slammed the airlock shut and sealed him in.

Damnit.

“Eos!”

“Working on it.”

What could be stopping the AI from unsealing an airlock was a growing concern.

Dad glared at him from the ceiling.

“Thunderbird Five, answer me!”

Virgil drew in a breath, thankful for his uniform’s standalone air supply. “There is an atmospheric contaminant present in Five’s life support systems. I’m guessing we have an oxidizer leak from the thruster assembly. John is…not himself. I’m working on it.”

“Do you need Three?” In other words ‘can I come up there and join you before I melt from worry?’

“Give me ten and ask again.” He flicked off comms. “Eos, any luck?”

“I have contained him in his sleeping quarters, but you will need to hurry as he is currently attempting to override my program.” The speaker gave a little squawk and went silent.

“Eos?”

The airlock suddenly hissed open.

Virgil didn’t hesitate. He was through the exit and throwing himself after his brother without a second thought. He grabbed a spare helmet along the way. It was time to end this.

He found John yelling at the ceiling and pulling a control panel out of his shower cubicle. Why he thought that was a productive thing to do, Virgil didn’t know, but since Eos hadn’t said a word since, it was concerning enough.

The airlock to John’s quarters unsealed at his touch and Virgil slipped through, sealing it again behind him.

His brother didn’t look up from what he was doing. “So the brat let you out, did she?”

“John, you need help.”

“What I need is silence. No more nagging from annoying brothers. Didn’t you guys get the hint when I moved up here in the first place? All my life it has been the four of you in my ears, always bugging me. Now I’m in space and I still can’t escape you. Why can’t you leave me alone?!”

Virgil swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “We care, John.”

“Only enough to satisfy your own concern. Not how I feel having to listen to all your caterwauling.”

He’s not himself. It became a mantra echoing through Virgil’s head, but a little voice asked if it was really the truth.

“I can’t believe that.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” John continued to rip electronics out of the wall of his shower.

“What are you doing?”

“Silencing the dawn.”

“In the shower?”

John finally looked up at him but his smile was eerie. “No better place.”

“Then I’m going to have to stop you.”

His brother snorted. “You can try.”

Virgil didn’t move immediately. Instead, he pulled up a schematic on his HUD and confirmed the wiring behind the shower unit. Most of it was innocuous, but one of the main power distribution relays was nearby and that relay supported the main computer. There was sense in John’s statement, of an extreme kind. Taking out Eos by taking out his Thunderbird.

He had no idea what kind of logic was churning in his little brother’s brain, but he had to stop this. He had to get John’s helmet on his head and his body and brain off the cocktail of whatever was in the air.

Virgil pushed off from the wall and barrelled into him. John saw him coming and leapt ceiling-ward. Virgil anticipated the move and compensated enough to grab his brother around the waist.

Virgil had the brute strength, but John had flexibility. Virgil’s only chance lay in hanging on.

So he did.

And John did not like it.

At all.

“Get off me!”

He struggled, shoving at Virgil’s arms. When that didn’t work, he tried to knee his brother in the gut.

Virgil grit his teeth and in return, wrapped his legs around his slippery space-suited brother and began climbing him inch by inch, to get that damned helmet on his head.

John yelled in his ear. Tried a few moves that Kayo, no doubt, taught him. The bruises were beginning to mount up and yet, Virgil still hung on.

John wasn’t himself.

Not himself.

The proof was in the fact he hadn’t yet really employed the solid and attacker-crippling techniques Virgil knew his brother was fully capable of. Instead, they spun around in a totally uncoordinated tumble hitting walls and furniture until Virgil was able to get enough of a grip on his brother to shove his helmet on his head.

The helmet hung loose as John took the opportunity to jab him in the ribs as a result and for a moment Virgil thought he was going to lose his grip and hence the battle, but he managed an extra push and his brother’s suit engaged, automatically switching to its portable air supply exactly as it was designed to do in an emergency.

Virgil continued to cling to his brother to keep that helmet in place long enough to do its job. It earned him an aching kidney and some creaking ribs, but eventually John stopped struggling and fell quiet. A glance through the plexiglass of his helmet and Virgil found John’s eyes scrunched shut.

“John?” Virgil’s voice was hoarse. His belly had taken a beating, literally. Thank goodness for his baldric and all the equipment that came with it.

“V-Virgil? God, my head.” John groaned, his gloved hand scratching at his helmet.

Virgil let out a breath and drew his brother closer. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” He brought John’s head down to his shoulder and held him safe in his arms. There was a need to grab the medscanner. He…he would do that in a moment. “Tracy Island, can we take you up on that offer of a pick up?”

“Virgil, launching now. What’s your status?” Scott was all worry and clipped syllables.

“We’re okay.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on John’s shoulder. “We’re okay.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #nuttyfic reblog #I have the next week off #here's hoping I can write something that is not a reblog

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moose-mousse · 1 year ago

Text

It works!*

So I (FINALLY) put the final touches on the software for my robot PROTO! (Listen, I am a software person, not a coming-up-with-names person)

Basically, it is a ESP32 running him. He takes HTTP messages. Either GET odometry, or PUT twist. Both just being a string containing comma separated numbers

Odometry is the robots best guess based on internal sensors where it is (Since PROTO uses stepper motors, which rotates in tiny tiny steps... it is basically counting the steps each motor takes)

Twist is speed, both in x,y and z directions, and speed in angular directions (pitch, roll and yaw). This is used to tell the robot how to move

Now, since PROTO is a robot on two wheels, with a third free-running ball ahead of him, he cannot slide to the side, or go straight up in the air. You can TRY telling him to do that, but he will not understand what you mean. Same with angular movement. PROTO can turn left or right, but he have no clue what you mean if you tell him to bend forward, or roll over.

The software is layered (Which I use a BDD diagram to plan. I love diagrams!)

Basically PROTO gets a twist command and hands that over to the Differential_Movement_Model layer.

The Differential_Movement_Model layer translate that to linear momentum (how much to move forward and backwards) and angular momentum (how much to turn left or right). combines them, and orders each wheel to move so and so fast via the Stepper_Motors layer.

The Stepper_Motors turns the wanted speed, into how many steps each stepper motor will have to do per second, and makes sure that the wanted speed can be achieved by the motors. It also makes sure that the wheels turn the right way, no matter how they are mounted (In PROTO's case, if both wheels turn clockwise, the right wheel is going forward, and the left backwards.). It then sends this steps per second request down to the Peripheral_Hub layer.

The Peripheral_Hub layer is just a hub... as the name implies, it calls the needed driver functions to turn off/on pins, have timers count steps and run a PWM (Pulse-width modulation. It sends pulses of a particular size at a specific frequency) signal to the driver boards.

Layering it, also means it is a lot easer to test a layer. Basically, if I want to test, I change 1 variable in the build files and a mock layer is build underneath whatever layer I want to test.

So if I want to test the Stepper_Motors layer, I have a mock Peripheral_Hub layer, so if there are errors in the Peripheral_Hub layer, these do not show up when I am testing the stepper motor layer.

The HTTP server part is basically a standard ESP32 example server, where I have removed all the HTTP call handlers, and made my own 2 instead. Done done.

So since the software works... of course I am immediately having hardware problems. The stepper motors are not NEARLY as strong as they need to be... have to figure something out... maybe they are not getting the power they need... or I need smaller wheels... or I will have to buy a gearbox to make them slower but stronger... in which case I should proberbly also fix the freaking cannot-change-the-micro-stepping problem with the driver boards, since otherwise PROTO will go from a max speed of 0.3 meters per second, to most likely 0.06 meters per second which... is... a bit slow...

But software works! And PROTO can happily move his wheels and pretend he is driving somewhere when on his maintenance stand (Yes. it LOOKS like 2 empty cardboard boxes, but I am telling you it is a maintenance stand... since it sounds a lot better :p )

I have gone over everything really quickly in this post... if someone wants me to cover a part of PROTO, just comment which one, and I will most likely do it (I have lost all sense of which parts of this project is interesting to people who are not doing the project)

#devlog #codeblr #programming #electronics #coding #robotics

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jellisdraws · 10 months ago

Text

WIP Whenever

It’s been a while since I posted anything from my Cyberfantasy WIP so…

The helm was a vision straight out of the last century of star cruisers , retrofitted into something more functionally modern. It's dated darksteel panels were accented with rust red ironwood, and a full suite of leather chairs and stations sat vacant on either side of the conically shaped room. In the middle of the room where an old timey captain's chair may have sat, a 12 foot tall, 8 foot wide inky black egg shaped pod was welded into the floor, it's sleek sides seamed with glowing strings of runes. Past the navigation egg, the circular front viewport glowed with the purple hue of the light spilling from the Gate, the traffic ahead of them mere dots of black with their own aetheric glow of main thrusters, slowly idling their way forward, waiting their turn to warp. Wires and cables humming with magic running out of the base of the pod disappeared under the floor panelling - Was that… mahogany? - and reappeared where they linked into the various navigation and control stations across the bridge. Advancements in cognition-enhancing alchemy, magics, and technology like Jack’s own implanted cyberbrain now allowed the entire suite of operating systems for a starship like this one to be controlled by one person- a fact not lost on the starlining corporations.

Now that Automaton Intelligences were calling for equal treatment as kith, and even the corporate funded governments were having to give way in order to appease their constituents both organic and manufactured, it was far cheaper to just maintain the fewest employees possible and focus on guild busting tactics. Paying for stimulants, overtime and legal payouts when things went wrong was far cheaper than paying a living wage and hiring Shipboard AI to supplement helmsmen. The pilots guild was more or less a full fledged insurrection anymore, hijacking, blockading and destroying Corpo ships across the Unified Systems. They supposedly maintained sleeper representatives across the various starliner companies, those willing to quietly recruit new guild members or crash starships into trade hubs in firey protest. Split between the Corpos bearing down on them and the Guild’s aggressive recruiting tactics, every pilot and helmsman Jack had ever met had been either stupefyingly boring or batshit insane. She hoped this one counted among the former.

(Rest under the cut)

A voice floated out of the Comm rune on the egg, “Hey, just a heads up we’re about T minus 16 minutes to warp. Not to put too much pressure on you, but non essential systems will be going down as we warp, standard procedure, and they wont be back on till we’re headed into final approach.”

“Right.” Jack said, edging around the pod, trying to get a view of the person inside

“It's weird you know, I don't remember logging a request.”

Jack froze, waiting for alarms, waiting for the doors behind her to open, but the voice continued, “ Sometimes I forget about the small stuff though, or maybe it's an old one- glad they're finally sending someone to deal with stuff like this,” The voice was dreamy- like their attention was largely elsewhere- which Jack supposed it was; flying large scale starships was consuming work.

She finally scooted in front of the navigation egg, peering through the layers and layers of projected information and glowing sensor displays on the glass of the viewing window into the beautiful reflective eyes of a mermaid. She smiled dreamily at Jack as she floated gracefully in the suspending fluid of the egg. She was around 4 feet tall, with a slender feminine torso covered in opalescent white scales that shifted into a curling, ridged neon yellow seahorse tail. Her pale green curls were trapped beneath a pair of headphones she had pulled around her neck- the cord of which disappeared into the top of the egg. Her eyes were the color and quality of mercury, sitting prettily in a heart shaped face. She had a prominent tattoo of an incredibly buff orcish man in a navy cap and not much else along her sternum. Down the sides of her neck and collar Jack could see her gills filtering. Jack had to remind herself to look the woman in her eyes.

“Hi there,” Jack said.

“Yeah, hi,” returned the dreamy voice through the pod, though Jack couldn't see the Mermaids lips move, “Feel free to do what you need to do, We got about- oh… just under 14 minutes now.”

“Right. I don't suppose we could speed that up?” Jack asked

“Speed it up how?”

“Most ships have thrusters I believe, they are used to provide thrust. I would like there to be more thrust.”

“Oh.”

Jack unfolded the titanium blade from her hand and pressed the tip into the glass of the navigation egg with what she hoped was a menacing click, her black eyes meeting the Mermaids mercury ones, “Im hijacking the ship.”

“Oh, Okay.”

“‘Okay?’ What the fuck do you mean, ‘Okay’?”

“I was acquiescing.” the mermaid said.

“I just told you I was stealing the ship. Why would you acquiesce to that? Who says acquiesce anymore?”

“I dunno. Protocol I think.”

“Protocol says to agree to hijacking?”

“Yeah.”

“I need to be through the Hyperlane gate as fast as you can get us there…?”

“Madolyn.”said Madolyn the mermaid.

“Madolyn, hi. My name is-”

An explosion rocked the cabin as the doors in the rear blew open with a wild squeal and cracking of metal and ceramic, with a shower of blue and purple arcane sparks. The Corprobots began to force their way through the exploded doors, kicking and twisting burning out of their way.

“JACK GATHOWAY YOU HAVE BEEN FOUND NON COMPLIANT.” came a loud tinny voice followed by a short burst of gunfire.

Jack yelped and ducked behind the egg as bullets ricocheted around the cabin, struggling to flatten herself against the convex surface.

“Now please Madolyn!” She yelled

“Just feel free to call me Maddie!” she said cheerfully, righting herself in the tank and pulling her headphones back up around her ears. She began to wave her hands fluidly though the fluid, and the ship responded instantly. Jack felt herself pressed firmly into the smooth hard surface of the egg as gravity shifted in response to the acceleration. An echoing crash and the sounds of cursing revealed a corprobot had fallen off of it's feet and tangled the legs of the others.

Jack looked frantically in front of her, the aetheric glow of the gate was huge and all encompassing, trying to stay stuck behind the egg as Maddie swung the starliner in and out of traffic, avoiding the ships trundling there as she continued to accelerate towards the gate.

“Stay where you are!” came a corprobot voice, and then more gunfire, Jack hissed as a ricochet skimmed past her forearm, slicing the skin like a red hot razor. The bots were spreading out, making the precarious cover she had found increasingly tenuous. Between the shouting and gunfire she could hear Maddie cheerfully speaking to someone,

“Thats right Raxxus Control we have been spacejacked, and the culprits are accelerating us directly into the Gate!” A pause, “Nope, it does not seem like re-establishing control of the vessel will be possible.” She gave Jack a thumbs up, and Jack returned the gesture with a weak smile.

A Metallic hand grabbed Jack by the ankle and ripped her out of her hiding spot and she yelled, swinging and kicking, slamming her knife repeatedly into the torso of the corprobot holding her, the aetherium infused titanium sinking into the thick ceramic armor over and over until the bot fell in a shower of purple sparks. More gunfire from the bots- TING! A bullet lodged itself in her metal leg, she almost could have laughed until another one took her in the shoulder and she spun over the controls landing with a bone rattling THUNK on the other side of the defunct console. Maddie was still speaking,

“That's right, we are a passenger vessel, so firing on us is out of the question unfortunately. Eject them? I don't have the authority to do that sir, Im so sorry. Listen we’re about to hit the Gate, it's been lovely to talk to you- what was that? Collision?”

Jack’s eyes widened as she turned to look out the front viewport to see the prow of Starsailer emerge from the gate, followed by its masts and sails, a huge galleon from the ancient days of spacefaring, it's Draconic figurehead looking as surprised to see the Starliner as they were to see it. Maddie hewed the ship hard to port, but it was too late. Jack felt it shudder beneath her before the impact came and she was thrown across the room. She slammed hard into the ceiling, navigation egg, floor, egg again. As the starliner bounced off of the hapless Starsailer’s shields and directly into Raxxus Station itself, metal and glass and ceramic buckled as the momentum of the ship ground it further and further into the Gates’s superstructure. Jack felt the shuddering reverberations of arcane explosions before she saw them, massive roiling purple flames being ejected out of the gate with increasing intensity as the starliner crashed into it before the momentum of the spinning structure caught them and flipped the disintegrating ship entirely and the purple aetheric glow overtook all.

#Joe writes #wip whenever #wip #Cyberfantasy #cyberpunk #fantasy #fiction #writing #my writing #my oc #worldbuilding #fantasy art #character art #prosthetics #sci-fi #space

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justinspoliticalcorner · 7 months ago

Text

David Ingram at NBC News:

Elon Musk’s X is a thriving hub for Nazi support and propaganda, with paid subscribers sharing speeches by Adolf Hitler or content praising his genocidal regime. NBC News found that at least 150 paid “Premium” subscriber X accounts and thousands of unpaid accounts have posted or amplified pro-Nazi content on X in recent months, often in apparent violation of X’s rules. The paid accounts posting the content all consistently posted antisemitic or pro-Nazi material. Examples included praise of Nazi soldiers, sharing of Nazi symbols and denials of the Holocaust. The pro-Nazi content is not confined to the fringes of the platform. During one seven-day period in March, seven of the most widely shared pro-Nazi posts on X accrued 4.5 million views in total. One post with 1.9 million views promoted a false and long-debunked conspiracy theory that 6 million Jews did not die in the Holocaust. More than 5,300 verified and unverified accounts reshared that post, and other popular posts were reshared hundreds of times apiece.

X’s policies ban glorifying violence — a broad prohibition that X has sometimes used to take down pro-Nazi content and accounts. The rules also ban “praising violent entities” and say the platform will apply labels to hate imagery like swastikas. But NBC News found that X does not appear to be enforcing those policies consistently. The findings are the latest evidence of a flourishing Nazi network on X under Musk’s ownership. Previous investigations by news organizations and anti-hate watchdogs have documented many examples of antisemitism, white supremacy and support for Nazism on X.

NBC News found the Nazi propaganda posts by browsing the platform: scrolling through replies, clicking on user profiles and looking through the engagements on viral posts. NBC News conducted its review during one week in late March. The number of verified subscribers posting pro-Nazi material may be significantly more than 150. When NBC News conducted its review, Premium subscribers had the option to hide their verification check marks from the public. The verified users sharing the pro-Nazi content have entered into a mutually beneficial relationship with Musk’s X, paying $8 a month or more for premium services that are available to all premium subscribers. In exchange, they get “prioritization” when they reply to posts and the opportunity to monetize their content through ads, according to the subscription terms. The result is that X is bringing Nazi sympathizers in from the dark corners of the internet to a massive platform where they can pay to amplify their content. X had 174 million daily active users worldwide on its mobile app in February, according to the research firm Sensor Tower. X claims to have many more than that.

NBC News conducted its research in March, before X implemented a change to provide free premium subscriptions to accounts with more than 2,500 verified followers. That move has made it more difficult to determine who is a paid subscriber. A welcoming social media environment can make Nazi sympathizers feel validated in their views and recruit others to their cause, said Patrick Riccards, executive director of Life After Hate, a Milwaukee-based organization that helps people disengage from violent extremist groups. “For those who are already driven by hate, it is a big warm hug,” he said. Online hatred can also contribute to violence offline, he said, citing the racist massacre at a grocery store in Buffalo, New York, where 10 Black people died in 2022. The gunman wrote in a document that he supported neo-Nazism. He later said in court that he “believed what I read online and acted out the hate.” “They’re wanting to find individuals to take physical action when the time comes,” Riccards said.

In most cases, Nazi material on X is about spreading hate, said Megan Squire, deputy director for data analytics at the Southern Poverty Law Center, an anti-hate group founded in 1971. “It’s not like historians are on there talking about Hitler’s speeches,” she said. Squire said that in her research she has found that accounts posting Nazi material are run by “known white supremacist groups that are attempting to normalize their ideas, gain followers and shuffle those followers into platforms” elsewhere online where their organizing work continues. By failing to act against many pro-Nazi accounts, X continues to earn income from their activity in at least two ways: by collecting monthly subscription fees from those posting pro-Nazi content and by running advertisements on those accounts or adjacent to the pro-Nazi content.

[...] Many of the 150 premium accounts have put links on their X profiles directing people to their websites, books and other media, where they sometimes push Nazi sympathy and antisemitism. One such account, using the name The Impartial Truth, posts recycled and remixed Nazi propaganda content, and its X profile links out to a donation site. The account did not respond to an emailed request for comment. One of the premium accounts belongs to Stew Peters, a Florida-based host of an internet talk show who has praised Nazi book-burning in 1930s Germany. Last month, a post of his denying the Holocaust went viral on X with 1.9 million views. Peters has more than 574,000 followers on X, where his posts often include antisemitism, and his account links to his website charging $10 a month for videos. In response to a request for comment, Peters said NBC News was using “ad hominem arguments to create narratives out of whole cloth.”

Some of the accounts posting Nazi propaganda are unabashed in their praise of the Nazis. At least two verified X subscribers recently praised Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi propaganda minister. One said it used artificial intelligence to generate fake audio of Goebbels reading his writing aloud, bringing in more than 23,000 views. X’s policies require a “sensitive media” label for “hateful imagery,” which includes “symbols historically associated with hate groups, e.g., the Nazi swastika.” Musk cited a related “incitement to violence” policy when he suspended the rapper Ye, formerly Kanye West, after Ye praised Hitler in an interview and posted an image resembling a swastika.

Some viral Nazi content stops short of praise and instead drives engagement to accounts with no clear ideology. Two examples came in March from the account @dom_lucre, a conspiracy theorist. It posted two Hitler speeches that together received more than 15 million views. The speeches were translated with artificial intelligence, Lucre said. He, unlike others, included a warning that the speech was graphic and antisemitic, though he did not express disapproval. “I am simply sharing what is news as I always do,” he wrote in a post. Lucre, who also goes by Dominick McGee, according to his Facebook page, did not respond to an emailed request for comment. Lucre and other similar posters who stopped short of praising Nazis were not included in the NBC News count of the 150 premium subscribers posting pro-Nazi content. Those 150 accounts were more explicit in their pro-Nazi ideologies.

NBC News has a report on the explosive growth of antisemitism and Neo-Nazi content on X (formerly Twitter) from X Premium accounts.

#Antisemitism #Neo Nazis #X #Elon Musk #X Premium #Dom Lucre #Stew Peters #Dominick McGee

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pinkestmenace · 4 months ago

Note

⚔️ (Crossed Swords) - What weapon(s) do they wield or specialize in, if any in particular? Any special properties? Do their weapons have names or epithets? [e.g. MK’s Galaxia, Morpho’s Doomblade]

🧋 (Boba Tea) - Come up with a Kirby Café item themed around your OC! It can be a savoury dish, a drink, a dessert, or something else entirely.

And, of course, a funny one,

⚙️ (Gear) - Do they have any knowledge of, or connections to, the Ancients? What do they think of them?

There's her club, obviously. Which is exactly what it seems: a big, heavy, pointy object. You can smash things with it. Simple.

Then there's her gauntlets, of course. I've already shown this in a couple drawings, but the gauntlets aren't just for punching hard or giving her bigger hands. The palms can release blasts that serve to repel enemies or boost her. Her boots can do this too, to let her jump high or pivot quickly while wielding her heavy club. She's surprisingly mobile like that even if her wings can't quite carry the weight of her and her club together. She can also still access her dimensional storage while she wears them. (Handy to summon/put her club away quickly or switch weapons on the fly!) The pointer fingers also have the ability to shoot laser blasts. They can only do this when she makes a finger gun gesture, though. That way she can never shoot herself in the hand, just like she has to spread her hands fully to make the palm blasts. By the way, her actual hands are entirely inside the palm area, so her fingers are not inside the gauntlets fingers. Those are solid and entirely mechanical. She operates the gauntlets by pressing sensors inside the palm that correspond to each finger. They are pressure sensitive and give feedback to some extent, so with practice she can bend her gauntlet's fingers exactly as far with exactly as much force as she wants. (So she can actually grab and hold things instead of crushing everything instantly.) Would she name her gauntlets? You know what? She probably does have matching nicknames for them. I haven't come up with anything funny yet, though.

I know it's technically not a weapon, but now that I'm busy talking about her armour I might as well mention her helmet. Olympea, being mothlike, has antennae that give her an excellent sense of smell (for a couple highly specific things). The red parts on top of the 'horns' let air pass through to her antennae inside, which means she's still able to use this even when wearing her helmet. It also leaves space at the back for her wings to move.

🧋 (Boba Tea) - Come up with a Kirby Café item themed around your OC! It can be a savoury dish, a drink, a dessert, or something else entirely.

Aaaah! Coming up with a café food was so difficult! I didn't want to reach for the silly pea soup or club sandwich option again.

Anyway, enter the Mumbo-Jumbo Ice Cream Dream Combo! Made with raspberry, mango, matcha and smurf blue moon ice cream scoops arranged in a row and topped with respectively a galette and ruby chocolate roll, caramel shards and dark cherry, rock candy and lady finger, and salty liquorice rope and toasted mini marshmallows.

⚙️ (Gear) - Do they have any knowledge of, or connections to, the Ancients? What do they think of them?

Considering she lived on Halcandra, which I treat as the main hub of the Ancients before they fell apart into science and magic factions, you bet she does! I actually pepper what little dialogue I've given her with some Jambandran words. Of course, during the period where she was alive and well that wasn't quite Jambandran yet. That didn't come until after the schism, when the magic faction in hiding retained that dialect and the science faction changed until it was no longer recognisable.

But what does she think of them? Well, they're her people and she's one of their heroes, so she wants to keep them safe! She is not good at magic, so she leans towards the science (well, technology and gadgets) side. But just because she isn't very magically gifted doesn't mean she dislikes magic and magic users. If she knew how the tensions between the two camps would grow it would bother her very much.

@kirbyoctournament more 🫛 lore

Masterpost

#ask box #ask and i shall answer #ask game #ask meme #Olympea #Olympea HoY #the heroes of yore #🫛#my art #my drawing #ibispaint

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strawberrysunsets · 10 months ago

Text

The Empty World (Ch. 10)

Donald Pierce x fReader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The mutant sets out on their first assignment for Transigen, amid mounting tension with the Reavers.

Warnings: Swearing, injuries, mention of cannon death, mention of cannon torture, mention of cannon suicide, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: Hiiiii yes tis I another six months later lol hope you enjoy💓

It was late when you woke the next day. The alarm clock by your bed flashed red digits– 3:00pm – and you only had a moment to float in the thoughtless peace of waking before a knot of anxiety settled in your stomach.

While last night’s encounter with Pierce was still fresh in your mind – a little thrill of revulsion dancing through you at the thought – it wasn’t the cause for your nerves. Nor was it the constant worry over whether Laura and the other mutants were safe. No; the adrenaline mounting in your system as you stumbled to the bathroom to brush your teeth was solely a result of the fact that after a week of waiting, and briefing, and training your injured shoulder back into shape, the day of your assignment had finally arrived.

You washed your face, drying it with a hand towel before dressing in the uniform you’d laid out the day before.

You hadn’t lasted long in high school before taking to the road, but you remembered the feeling of walking into a room to take a test you knew you weren’t prepared for. This was something like that. Except you were surrounded by literal enemies, here – not just the disapproving gazes of teachers – and the stakes of this test were life and death. If you failed this assignment, would Transigen even bother keeping to your deal? Or would they decide you were of more use to them chained to a table in a lab than out in the field?

…and if you succeeded? You’d tried not to think about it. But how many lives might suffer the consequences of Zenith Lab’s scientist falling into Transigen’s hands?

You found yourself gripping the edge of the table by your window, your knuckles turning white as you stared emptily out at the view before you. The empty lot, where last night, you'd confronted Pierce. You turned away, massaging your temples. It was an exercise in futility, trying to predict the possible outcomes of your actions. For now, only one thing was certain: as long as you worked for Transigen, Laura and the others were safe. Or as safe as you could make them. And they'd been through enough. You squeezed your eyes shut against the barrage of horrible images your mind threatened to dredge up from Gabriela's video. You had to focus.

Your mission was simple.

The target was Zenith Lab’s complex, a skyscraper in the downtown core of Mexico City with a security system designed specifically to keep intruders like Transigen’s agents out. So, for the Reavers to gain entry to the building, that security system had to be disabled. There was only one issue: the security hub lay on the high rise’s twenty-seventh floor, and no aircraft could deploy an air team to reach it without being detected by the lab’s scanners. Something smaller, though–say, a winged mutant–wouldn’t trip those sensors. There was a reason Clark, the security coordinator, had had you memorizing floor plans for a week.

It would be up to you to take out the security mainframe, allowing the Reavers access to the building.

Seeing as I’m carrying this whole damn plan on my shoulders, you thought, sifting through the equipment you’d acquired from the recon manager– you’d think this job would at least come with dental. But no; just the slim promise of freedom for Laura and the other mutants, and an even slimmer paycheck.

You pulled on the bullet proof vest and slotted the taser into its holster at your hip–silently glad they’d only given you nonlethal means of disarming the guards–then examined the final item in your kit. It was an armpiece, meant to be worn like a cuff around your bicep. Upon turning it over, the only identifying information you could find were a barcode and manufacturer’s label, and you scrutinized it for a moment before putting it on.

A tracker? To make sure you stayed on course? It seemed superfluous, since you weren’t going anywhere with Transigen’s threat looming over Laura and the others. And since Clark had said you’d be out of radio contact until you’d disabled the mainframe to avoid detection, it couldn’t be a transmitter of any sort. What, then?

You mulled over the question as you made your way through the lab’s stark hallways, even as you mentally reviewed the stages of tonight’s plan. Fly to Zenith Labs. Break in through the roof door, which would be locked but unguarded, then take out whatever skeleton staff were on the nightshift at the security hub. Finally, meet Pierce and his Reavers as they executed the rest of the plan, and get the hell out of dodge.

Simple, if not exactly easy.

The rest of the late day passed in the same gray blur as all your days at Transigen, different only because of your mounting anxiety.

Nightfall found you in the lobby as a Reaver named ‘Kills’ dispersed earpieces to Reavers who waited impatiently by the door or cracked jokes in groups along the walls. There were less than a dozen in total; all the same rough, macho-sadist types who seemed drawn to the Reaver corps like moths to a flame. You stood out amongst them like a sore thumb, even as you tried to make yourself invisible. It would've been hard enough to keep a low profile as the only non leather-wearing, gun-toting one among them, let alone the only woman, mutant, and goddamn avian. As it was, you tried to look as cold and disinterested as possible in order to repulse their attention. Pierce hadn’t yet appeared, and it was with a mixture of dread and anticipation that you thought of running into him tonight.

Finally the Reavers began moving towards the lab’s doors, and you followed them out, the night air quickly snapping everything into hyperfocus.

It was a warm, humid night, and the sounds of the city felt alien to you after days in the quiet sterility of the lab. It felt like ages since you’d last walked a city’s streets, and been a part of that noise. Some part of you wondered if you ever would again.

Three black trucks were parked in a line down the lab’s drive, and the Reavers were moving around them and climbing inside. Someone directed you towards one, and you climbed inside, pulling your wings in tight to avoid brushing the doors.

There were five Reavers already inside the truck, and all glanced up as you entered, save the man typing away on a laptop. Their faces were cold and dispassionate, but beneath that mask, you recognized a plethora of emotions. Disgust. Hatred. Malicious interest. Once again, your instincts told you to run –that this was a tiger’s cage, and you were a fool for stepping into it.

But these assholes aren’t hunting me anymore, you thought to yourself, forcefully. They already won. I’m here by choice.

The truck’s door slid shut behind you, and you set your jaw. Go figures the actual mission would be the least of your problems tonight. These men seemed primed for a fight, and you could feel their sights quickly settling on you.

“You can sit down here, doll,” a man with a thick bullet-proof vest and an abundance of side holsters said, grinning as he nodded to his lap. “C’mon over.”

You glared at him, and lowered yourself into the nearest empty seat. “I’d rather not catch whatever brain-eating disease you have,” you snapped back, “thanks.”

“Damned if we gotta work with a fucking mutey,” one of the other men muttered, clicking his gun into its holster emphatically.

“Hey, she’s on our side, now!” Another laughed. He had stubbled cheeks and a purple bandana tied around his neck. “Gonna help us take out her own kind, just like that albino traitor,” he taunted lazily. “Ain’t that right, girl?”

A hot flush of anger overtook you, along with a sudden sense of claustrophobia at the van’s tight quarters. They don’t get to fucking mention Caliban. For a moment there was a loud buzzing in your ears, and a tide of memories and pain threatened to overwhelm you. Then you shoved the thoughts of Caliban back behind their wall , and turned on the Reavers.

“We’re not hunting mutants tonight, piss-brain,” you shot back at the man with the bandana. “Did you miss the briefing? I know reading comprehension is above your paygrade, but it’s a fucking scientist you’re after.”

It felt good to see the man’s gaze darken. “Guess that depends if we find any,” he replied, lip curling in a humorless smile. “Who knows what they’re hiding up there?” He leaned towards you conspiratorially, revealing the line of tattoos that stretched down his neck below the bandana. “Me, I'm hope there’s a few mutts,” his smile grew colder, and his eyes raked over your face in search of a reaction. “It’d be nice to have a little target practice.”

Heat prickled down your spine, and you didn’t break his gaze. You weren’t going to be baited by this asshole.

One of the other men–the bald one–was smiling, too; the same lazy malice written on his face as he watched you. “It has been a while since we got some hunting in,” he agreed. “Heard those kids gave quite the chase. But I’m sure ol’ Wolvey took the cake.”

Your skin flushed hotter before you could get a handle on yourself.

“How many shots did he take before he went down?” The bald man continued, turning to the other quizzically as bandana-man pursed his lips in thought. “Fuck, gotta be two-dozen?” He smiled, turning his gaze back to you as he let out a low whistle.

The tension in the truck was thick as tar, and finally even the man on the laptop looked up, glancing between you and the Reavers.

The buzzing in your mind felt like it was growing louder, like a freight train overtaking you; and all at once, the hot, prickling sensation on your skin resolved itself into something familiar. Something like crackling energy, and an awful golden light lurking just beyond your fingertips.

The blood drained from your face.

“You know ‘bout that, feathers?” The first man was asking, leaning forward as if in earnest. “Naw, she wasn’t there,” the other Reaver replied. “Missed the whole thing! Gotta tell her about it.”

What would happen if your powers returned, here and now? If your Ether flared inside this truck?

You had no idea, but you doubted there’d be any survivors.

And would that be so bad? Some dark part of you whispered, lulling you towards the crackling energy. To end this awful game, and go out with a fucking bang? To take some of these assholes with you?

Some distant, reasonable part of you was shouting for your attention, but far nearer was the forgefire of everything you’d shoved behind a wall in your mind. It was rage, and fear, and months of unprocessed grief–and that dam wasn’t going to hold forever.

Somewhere outside the truck, there were voices, and engines revving–but they seemed far away compared to the dark, taunting eyes of the men before you. One little slip, one burst of energy–and they’d be gone, and you’d be gone from this place.

The stillness of the truck was shattered as the front passenger door swung open, and a familiar figure climbed inside, blond hair tousled from the wind. The man with the bandana leaned back in his seat, breaking eye contact, and the bald man smiled sardonically as he shifted away, too.

“Boys,” Pierce greeted, his gaze roving over the Reavers before settling on you. “Playin’ nicely?”

The heat was high in your cheeks, and the buzzing in your mind still grappled for your attention as you tried to regain control. Now’s not the time to lose it, you told yourself, trying to shove the energy back behind its wall. Not with so much on the line. You couldn’t be so selfish.

You could feel Pierce’s gaze on you, and from the corner of your eye you saw when the man on the computer glanced up, briefly locking eyes with Pierce as they seemed to exchange some sort of information. Pierce sat back in his seat, sighed once through his nose, then swung back out of the truck. You barely registered it when he appeared at your side door, sliding it open and taking hold of your arm as he pulled you back out into the night.

Too surprised to resist, you landed on the sidewalk, and he shoved the door shut behind you, suddenly cutting you off from the scene within.

“What are you doing?” You asked dumbly, slowly returning to yourself as he shepherded you down the walkway. Pierce only snorted, directing you towards one of the other trucks. “C’mon, baby,” he drawled, opening its door and herding you inside. “We're gonna ride recon.”

***

The inside of the recon truck was quiet as it rumbled through the city streets, lights and the occasional bright storefront flashing past outside. The radio played a late-night mexican station and the transceiver crackled with brief messages and replies from the convoy, while the man in the passenger seat watched what appeared to be a live feed from outside Zenith Labs.

They were headed to a drop point, from which you’d get airborn and make your way to the building while the Reavers followed from the ground.

Pierce was listening to the transceiver's chatter, judging by the tilt of his head, and idly adjusting one of the components of his mechanical arm as the driver wove the truck through the midnight streets. The Reaver Commander wore his usual fatigues, black t-shirt, and leather jacket; but now with the addition of a kevlar vest, and holsters on either side of his hips. He was ready for a fight; but then again, he always looked ready for a fight.

Finally, Pierce sighed.

“I spent plenty of time around soldiers,” he said conversationally, shifting back against the truck's netted wall. “After a while, you learn the look of someone who’s about to break.” He met your gaze briefly, knowingly, as he twisted the metal dial that was his forearm in a series of smooth clicks.

You looked away, trying not to think about what had happened with the Reavers in the other truck. How you’d almost lost control. So easily, so quickly–and still, how the energy behind your mind’s wall seemed agitated, like a pot of water on too high heat.

“Seen it happen,” Pierce continued. “Watched ‘em puke up their guts, or run for home…usually at the first fight, or first kill. First time facing bad odds,” he smiled drily. “And I wouldn’t care a whit about you going haywire on us,” he sighed, “except I seen what you can do when you break.”

That day on the overpass. A car wreck, and an explosion of swirling golden Ether.

You winced, and you could feel your usual composure eluding you. You knew that bits of your feelings were getting through; the shame. The anger. Fear. There was no stopping them. You swallowed, taking a deep breath. The least you could do was try to settle your stomach. There was a chance you might lose control and vaporize someone tonight, but you were not going to puke.

Pierce was unfazed, staring at you as he leaned back. “Thing is, baby-" His mouth curved in an unfeeling smile. “-there’s a whole lot of people riding on tonight’s little operation. So I'll thank you not to blow the whole thing sky-high before we even get started.”

“I’m not going to jeopardize your precious little kidnapping mission,” you snapped back. “I’m not going to break.”

There was a beat of silence, and you returned your gaze to the window as you ignored the hollowness of your own words.

In truth, you were relieved beyond measure that he’d pulled you away from the Reavers in that moment. You didn’t know what might have happened if you’d stayed, and didn’t want to consider it. Stupid, perceptive bastard. As it was, you still felt like your control was balancing on a knife’s edge–and the mission which that afternoon had felt impossible now felt like a death sentence. If you wanted to get through this, you couldn’t delve into your feelings. You had to do –not think. Not feel.

“I’m not going to break,” you breathed, repeating it more to yourself than anyone else. Pierce sighed through his nose, not bothering to argue the point, then leaned forward and tugged at one of the straps of your vest, unfastening it.

“Hey–” you jerked away in surprise. His lips twitched, and he rolled his eyes. “Let me help you, sugar. You done it up all wrong.”

Your breathing grew shallow as he leaned forward, his hands working deftly to pull the strap from its loop.

This close, his stature was even more intimidating than usual; your entire world taken up by his tall frame and thick arms. As if sensing your thoughts, Pierce smirked. His face was shadowed in the darkened car, but you could feel it. Asshole.

"Easy, baby. Can't have your gear on wrong, now, can we?"

His arms encircled you as he crossed the straps behind your back, and for a moment the warmth of his biceps pressed into your shoulders, and you could smell the musky, cheap scent of his aftershave. You turned your eyes skyward, ignoring the proximity of his neck and jaw, and tried to keep your thoughts from straying inevitably towards last night. Futilely. Your cheeks reddened.

Then he was before you once more, fastening the straps tightly; his face shadowed, though the flash of the streetlamps illuminated the skull and crossbones inked across his neck. You made a mental note to mention to him how tacky the tattoo was, as soon as you'd regained your focus. Right now, you were too distracted; torn somewhere between the vile, magnetic pull of him, and the unnervingness of his physicality. Even without his robotic arm, he was frighteningly strong-and exactly the wrong kind of person to wield that power.

Still, his proximity calmed a small part of you by some infinitesimal amount. For even after witnessing your near loss of control, Donald Pierce didn’t seem scared of you. And in some way, that helped you feel less scared of yourself. Even if his character tended to counteract that effect.

He finished with the vest, and you took a breath, nerves zinging as he leaned away.

“There you go, sweetheart. All good,” he said, half mocking.

You thought his assessment over, but then his gaze fell to your arm. You’d almost forgotten the armband, but Pierce reached forward to grip your bicep, turning it into his view. His hands were firm; clinical in their assessment, but still the smirk remained.

“No one told you how to put the damn thing on?” He asked, fiddling with something on the armband so that it clicked more firmly into place.

“I didn’t exactly get workplace training,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady and unbothered by your racing heart.

The truck was beginning to slow, finally, and you examined the sharp lines of his face in the halflight. “What is that thing, anyway?”

Pierce sat back, finally widening the space between you as he took his radio from the wall, slotting it into his belt.

“Technical,” he replied. “Keeps your gear from emitting frequencies scanners might pick up while you’re on the way in.”

You processed this information, idly straightening your shirt as the van rolled to a stop. Sometimes it was easy to forget that beyond the gun-obsessed, vaping, muscle-shirt wearing exterior, Pierce was smart. You'd worked as a mechanic, and were a dab hand at fixing basic wiring and the like-but Pierce was on another level. He'd designed his own mechanical arm out of advanced robotics, along with the enhancements on other Reavers-and seemed to have a disturbingly good understanding of things like energy signatures and transmissions. Power, in the worst possible hands.

You heard other engines cutting off outside, and Pierce leaned forwards, pulling open the truck's side door as the night wind rushed in. You climbed unsteadily out, wings flaring for balance as you found your footing on the rocky ground.

The place where the trucks had stopped appeared to be a dusty, dead-end road, slightly elevated from the rest of the city by a small hill. It was bordered on one side by a chainlink fence, and on the other by a grassy expanse which led down towards the roofs of some houses.

“Now, you do what you gotta do to hold up your end of the bargain tonight, sugar,” Pierce said, swinging out of the truck after you. “No room for anything else. We’re gonna be right behind you.” He grinned. “In spirit, if not in the flesh.”

The truck stopped across from you was the one from before, and as you watched, the Reavers from within climbed out to lean against the doors or hang from the windows. Purple bandana leaned against its side, while the bald man watched from the open door. His gaze was gloating, but you ignored it. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that they were all watching you-sizing you up; as if waiting for something.

Pierce leaned against the recon truck, his tall frame impossible to ignore at your back; and you realized what they were all waiting for.

You. Of course they were going to watch you take off; for you were a freak, and they had front row seats to the show.

A pang of anxiety shot through you at the thought. You'd always known how much the Reavers hated you; hated all mutants-but it was a different beast to feel it. This was truly what you were to them. An aberration; some strange, depraved mistake that nature made, and on which they had the chance to profit. You didn't feel confidant under their scrutiny, but you sure as hell weren't going to show them how much it rattled you.

Might as well make it worth their while, you thought, jaw clenching. You took a few anticipatory breaths, and bounced on the balls of your feet as you worked up your courage.

Just do. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Take the damn sociopath's advice, and do what you have to do to get through the night.

“Catch you on the other side,” Pierce grinned, wolflike in the darkness.

Without waiting to reply, you took a running start towards the grassy slope. The air was cool on your hot cheeks as you sprinted, leaving all thought behind. The chainlink fence and red roofs of the houses at the bottom of the slope grew nearer, and then your feet left the ground, and the sudden sensation of weightlessness hit you like a wall as your wings fanned out on either side.

They’d chosen a good take-off point. The natural updraft of the hill caught you almost immediately, carrying you effortlessly up and away from the shrinking roofs.

Your newly-healed muscles ached at the exertion, but the ache was dull, dampened by the sudden thrill of flight. It felt like leaving it all behind; like escaping the tethers of your mind, and throwing fear to the wind.

How long had it been, since you really flew ? But you couldn’t think about that now; only the task ahead.

Far below, truck doors slammed as Reavers climbed back inside and the black vans pulled away from the drop point. And high above, you wheeled towards the city; focus honed to a single point of intent as you worked to pick out the dark shape of one specific skyscraper among the rest.

Taglist:

@humongousgalaxycoffee @drowningnikki @mischiefmanaged71 @lostcause514 @capvengrs @forever-nerd @pancakesandlolliepops @kingredking @gremlinfuck @marvel-at-my-obsession @padawansubscription @rebeccaofrivia @toobsock @darkengene

#fanfic #donald pierce #donald pierce x reader #boyd holbrook #donald pierce x you

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meartemesia · 2 months ago

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Hollywood's Modern Sensorship.

(My opinion as a young, queer, white person from South Africa who is aware of my own privilage as well as being discriminated against as a gay Afrikaans person who grew up in a church ruled, largely white Afrikaans community .)

As many fans mourne the loss of yet another show with queer and poc representation, it has become more evident that there is a pattern in Netflix's recent shows.

The graveyard of shows inclusive of positive queer representation wherin the queerness is not made out to be hyper sexual, destructive of friendship or lets the character have a happy ending, grows with another show. Dead Boy Detectives.

Sensorship is defined as: the suppression or prohibition of any parts of books, films, news, etc. that are considered obscene, politically unacceptable, or a threat to security.

"the regulation imposes censorship on all media"

While Hollywood has made trives in recent years to abolish its former Haze code, it has managed to find a legal loophole in the inherent capitalism of showbusiness.

Shows with a dedicated fanbase and essence are being cancelled for not meeting a specific quota of income. While that might sound reasonable regarding the unbelievable amounts studios spend on media, this quota isnt just about the financial aspect. Studios rely on a show's fanbase and potential growth or popularity concerning future fans and a growing audience.

This means any shows that might be co troversial in the future stand less of a chance to be invested in.

2024 was a wildly restless political year globally and while every country had its own worries, all eyes have been targeted on the shitshow that is the powerhoise of the Unitedd States as the media hub of western culture.

America'a influence on the world is no small feat and while it can be argued that that might not be a good thing, it is a fact as true as South Africa's concerning history of corrupt governance.

The uptick in sexism, homophobia and especially transphobia that has become rampant in recent hears has become reflective in the media we consume. From the cancellation of First Kill to now, we are seeing the effects of homophobia as a meand of income.

The movement against rainbow capitalism and other movements exposing the exploitation of human right campaigns by companies seeking money from "trends" has lead to more and more companies dropping their former "support" as the views of the clientele shift with recent political unrest.

It is not onlt shows that are being cancelled.

Companies have removed pride month lines, stopped funding lgbtqia+ charities, have started supporting conversion charities, anti lgbtqia+ charities and have begun pandering to a wider and more sensorred audience.

This is a blatant disregard for human rights in the sense of spreading awareness, representation and watering down human lives to trends that can bolster an income.

These executives don't care about the audience. They do not care about "the sanctity of morals". They dont care about us or the conservative side of any government.

They care about money.

We need to start seperating corporations from government. No one is immune to propaganda. Not even you.

Sensorship isnt about moral rights or wrongs. Its about money. So wherever you lean on the political spectrum, anywhere in the world. The media you consume isn't made for representation, moral righteousness, serving a higher power, nor is it about the appreciation of art and film and writing.

This is an attack on art as a means of expression. It is the sensorship of what art is fundamentally about: The Expression of Ideas weather people like them or not.

Art has been turned into a money grab. A means of corporate propaganda and somehow, even in their attempt to overtly sensor art, they are exposing their true intentions and reflecting the larger issues happening in the world around us.

Queer people, wen, people of colour, trans people, disabled people and anyone who doesnt fit into the rigid framework of humanity's "perfection", we are being silenced by having our art silenced.

This is your sign to start supporting local artists. Lgbt owned foundations and other minority foundations. The lgbtqia+ community has shown a large support for Palestine in the past year and as we are aware, Hollywood doesnt agree with supporting the end of a genocide. So we, as well as anyone who politically aligns themselves with this humanitarian view of sacrid human life, are silenced. Why?

Because you can't profit off fair means. No empire has ever been built fairly. Capitalism has its pros and cons. So does any other form of politics.

But we must not let the future generations wonder why we couldnt stop the downfall of our communities. We must act now so that future generations will not have to be burdened with another Stone wall, Apartheid, Suffragette movement.

We are provilaged enough now by having rights thanks to the martyrs who fought for human life.

Religious or not, we can all agree that the chances of us existing is miraculous. Human life is sacred. Do not let the 1% fool you.

The only dangerous minority, are the rich.

#dead boy detectives #netflix #politics #pro palestine #disney movies #human rights #corporate greed #call to action #opinion

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rocketbirdie · 11 months ago

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A New School Hunter's Guide to Old School Monster Hunter: What to Expect

World and Rise have come and gone. These are the games that introduced you to Monster Hunter. But now that you've completed every goal you set out to achieve, there's a big 2025 sized hole in your hunting heart where Wilds may one day be. "In the meantime, why not catch up on the old MH games?" you think to yourself, blissfully unaware of the hell that you are about to subject yourself to.

Below the cut is a SUPER LONG and very dramatic post, intended for new-ish Monster Hunter players who are bored of being good at the game, and want to remember what AGONY feels like— but would rather not jump in 100% blind like I did, doomed to hilarious suffering.

Note: This post mainly refers to MHGU, but much of it applies to older MH games as well. I came from Rise, and have not played World. If I made any incorrect assumptions about games I haven't played, apologies in advance. Let me know if I made any glaring mistakes.

Also, feel free to reblog and add any more info that I missed! I am but one mortal hunter, after all.

Table of Contents, because I wasn't kidding when I said this is a super long post:

Preparing for a Quest

GATHERING TAKES FOREVER

Paintballs, and other things that aren't in the newer games for a very good reason

When the monster attacks you

When you attack the monster

Armor Skills (AAAAAAA!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!! AAAAAAAHHAGHHAAHGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!)

The Desire Sensor (You Will Grind.)

No but really, you'd better have ~30 minutes set aside if you're planning on reading this whole thing in one sitting. Enjoy!

1. Preparing for a Quest

Many of the conveniences of the modern quest hub layout are nowhere to be found in old school MH games. Sure, you've got an overpriced shop, a smithy, and a quest handler all in one spot. And if you're lucky, maybe even a place to eat before the hunt. But if you want to change your equipment, save the game, or entrust your cat with an overseas trade deal, you'll likely have to do it somewhere else. And that means loading screens.

I'm telling you now, get used to the loading screens. Make sure you know what you want to do and where you need to do it, before you sit there and wait. Our spoiled Gen 5 asses are so accustomed to seamless transitions; the load times are not unreasonable, but the sheer number of interruptions will make you feel like a rabid animal gnawing at the bars of a wire cage. You'll get used to it. <- That's a phrase you're going to see a LOT in this post.

Go to your house to pick out your weapon and armor, and feast your eyes upon the horror: all of the equipment is haphazardly thrown into one box. There are no separate storage spaces for individual weapon types, meaning your sweet precious baby angel, the hammer, has to share menu real estate with the fucking light bowgun (UGH).

You cannot sort armor by head, chest, arms, etc. Want to see how your armor skills are looking? Close the box. Open the start menu. Navigate to "status," then flip through a page or two of normal, healthy stats. Find the armor skills page. Black out for a split second. Feel your heart rate spike, then immediately close out the armor skills, and decide that it's not important right now, and that you'll figure it out later.

Get your items in order. Set an item loadout if you can. Money is tight, and that won't be changing any time soon, so keep an eye on your zenny while you're shopping and smithing. Excess bones and ore are a decent source of cash if you're desperate.

I know I probably don't have to say it, but EAT! Eat something before the hunt! It increases your health and stamina bar and may grant you temporary skills. Some skills are exclusive to food, and can't be acquired via armor or decorations, so try out as many foods as you can. You'll be able to make more dishes using ingredients that you obtain as side quest rewards.

Before you set out on your quest, make absolutely certain that you have everything you might need. This is EXTREMELY important. The main camp is pretty much just there for show. (And for delivering eggs, but that's beside the point.) You cannot change your equipment or refill your items AT ALL once you're out there. If you forgot to eat, too bad, sucks to be you. And whatever weapon you bring is the only one you'll be using for that entire quest.

Alright, time to hunt! Talk to the quest handler, no, not that npc, no, that's not her either- ahem. Talk to the quest handler, aaaand yippee. 1 Star is all gathering quests. Well, at least they'll go by quickly!

2. GATHERING TAKES FOREVER

The first thing you'll notice on your first gathering quest in old school MH is that you slowly. Gather. One. Item. At a time. Maybe two if you're really striking it rich. Please for the love of all that is good, hold down the gathering button. Save yourself some time. Don't be an idiot like I was for more hours than I'm willing to admit.

YOU NEED TO GATHER. You need to gather so much, all the time, constantly. If you're not actively in combat, you should be gathering. If you're not gathering, then you should be moving to another gathering spot in order to gather more stuff. Bring a gathering palico. Hell, bring two. They are The Best type of palico, it doesn't even come close. There is no moment when you should not gather.

I can't stress this enough. Old school MH games will not just shower you with free items. Quest rewards are often pitiful, and it's safe to assume that the trader won't have what you need. Yes, gathering is slow and boring. But that's exactly why you need to weave it into every beat of downtime that the game gives you. GATHER, always. You'll thank yourself later.

You will need pickaxes to mine, and bug nets to catch bugs. These take up precious inventory space, but are well worth bringing to regular locales. If you want to fish and actually obtain something worthwhile (PLESIOTH), then you'll need to craft bait or bring some with you. And if the crafting recipes aren't listed anywhere in game, then gog help you.

There is a chance that crafting will just... not work. It'll consume the materials but spit out garbage instead of what you wanted to make. The odds of this happening can be mitigated by bringing a crafting book with you on your quest, which you can buy from a shop. But that book will take up space in your already miserably small inventory, assuming you brought sensible things along too, like potions. And a map.

Unless you have the locale memorized, you won't know where you are without the map item. In Low Rank, a map is courteously provided in the main camp's rations box, along with some field meds and food. (Don't get used to this kind of generosity. It'll be gone in High Rank and beyond.) Now that you have a map, you'll be able to see where all of the gathering spots are.......... right? RIGHT?????

WRONG. If you want to know where the spots are, you'll have to find them and then dedicate some real-life human brain memory space for that info. In some games, the gathering spots are obvious, with a big question mark that pops up when you can interact with them. In older games... uh... ha. Haha...... yeah. Good luck.

On the bright side, at least the map is good for keeping yourself safe. Y'know, because of the titular monsters. You can see the monsters on the map......... right?

Okay I'm gonna cut straight to the chase.

3. Paintballs, and other things that aren't in the newer games for a very good reason

Craft a pretty pink paintball with a paintberry and a sap plant. Equip it in your item scroll bar, and press that sexy item use button to throw it at a monster. Voila! A pink dot appears on your map. This (and psychoserum) allows you to see the monster's location.

Get into the habit of bringing multiple paintballs with you on every quest. You will miss a few throws. Also, the effect wears off after a few minutes, meaning you'll have to find the monster and hit it with another paintball again in order to keep it on the map. Be mindful of flying wyverns, who are aggravatingly hard to follow without a paintball. That includes some unexpected honorable mentions, for example Mizutsune, Zinogre, and Rajang, who can just... fly to the opposite side of the map. Yeah, I know. Don't ask.

So Zinogre has just taken to the skies. Now's a great opportunity to sharpen your weapon! If you remembered whetstones, that is. They're not an infinite resource, and they're not just automatically in your inventory. You'll have to go out of your way to obtain them and bring them with you on your hunts.

Likewise, I mentioned earlier that you need pickaxes and bug nets for gathering their respective items. What I didn't tell you is that they too are a finite resource. Pickaxes and bug nets can and will break, and you'll have to buy or craft new ones. If you're planning on doing a lot of gathering, eat for skills that reduce the likelihood of your tools breaking. It makes a huge difference.

Pay attention to what locale the quest takes place in. Some locales are hot, like Dunes and... *shudders* Volcanic Hollow. Bring cool drinks with you to hot locales, or else you'll take passive heat damage. Trust me, you do not want to be on fire the whole time you're running away from (and whiffing your attacks on) Uragaan. Ask me how I know that.

Similarly, cold locales will ruin your stamina bar over time. Hot drinks protect you from this stamina drain. Some locales, like Desert, have both hot and cold areas. Which is annoying because the drinks cancel each other out. Keep this in mind.

Don't be lured into a false sense of comfort just because you didn't forget your cool drinks. Because once you get into High Rank, there's a pretty good chance that you won't spawn at the main camp when you start a quest. One day, you will spawn right into a pool of lava, directly in a monster's line of sight, with zero time to prepare. It's okay to be a total chicken and run away screaming. After all, it is a monster, and it will attack you.

4. When the monster attacks you

I almost guarantee that your first old school hunt will leave a bitter taste in your mouth. Not bitter enough to make you instantly hate the game, but just enough to make you want to put the controller down and go outside and maybe even interact with other human beings, which is just as tragic.

Want to get some practice in with your weapon before the hunt? Well, too bad bucko, there's no training area. There may be a so-called "training quest," in which an npc barfs tutorial text onto your boots and then pits you against a real monster in an inescapable arena fight to the death, which is hilarious if you think about the in-game universe implications. Anyway. If you want to learn the in and outs of your weapon, then you'll have to do it the old fashioned way: get out there and get your ass kicked.

Great news! Getting your ass kicked is cheap, easy, and quick. Monsters' attacks will hit you like a cement truck packed with explosives speeding towards a steel wall. Even dumb little attacks like tail slaps and nibbles will take a CHUNK out of your health bar. Good thing you brought potions!

Terrible news! You are extremely vulnerable for several seconds while consuming healing items. Whether you like it or not, you will stand there in place, unable to move at all, glug, then flex your strong beautiful arms for the whole world to admire. And if the monster turns its attention towards you while you're doing this, there is nothing you can do but watch in despair as all of the health you just regained AND then some, gets torn away from you in an instant.

Don't wait until the fights get tough in order to prioritize learning monster's attack patterns. Even early on, only heal when you know for certain that it's safe to do so. Remember, it's okay to run away like a little wuss to put distance between yourself and the monster so you can use your items in peace. Hell, leave the area altogether if you have to. That being said, don't let the fight get too close to the edges of the area. Loading zones always get the last laugh.

Sooo.... hitboxes. They suck. They're bigger than they look, and they're present for longer than they should be. And some attacks have little to no tell or wind-up animation. Some monsters are just a vile conglomeration of both of these problems. (here's looking at you, Yian "You Mother Fucking Son of a Bitch" Garuga). Sigh... you'll get used to it.

If you came from Rise, getting knocked down by an attack will feel EXCRUCIATING. There is no fast way to fling yourself back onto your feet after taking a big hit. You will lie there, recoiling in pain, seething for way longer than you want— and you may even like it after a few hundred hours. Hang in there.

If a strong attack sends you flying into a wall, you'll very likely get stunned. Getting stunned is the single most dangerous thing that can happen, far worse than poison or waterblight or what have you. You can escape stun significantly faster by mashing buttons and wiggling the control stick. And I guess you could also bring the Stun Res skill, but... we'll, um, come back to that later.

WATCH OUT for pin attacks! You may very suddenly get snapped up and chewed apart like a dog toy, and it will be very bad for your health. That's why you should keep your pockets lined with literal shit. Chuck a dung bomb to escape a pin attack before the monster finishes ripping you to shreds. Dung bombs may also convince an unwanted monster to leave the area, which is great for when you'd rather not fight Gravios and Shogun Ceanataur at the same time. Which is all the time.

5. When you attack the monster

Your favorite weapon is not what you remember it being. Moves are missing, or mapped to completely different buttons. "How tf do I vault? Why won't my kinsect go where I want?? Stop shooting pheromone pellets!!!" whines the insect glaive main. "What do you mean there's no shoulder tackle?? How do I get to TCS faster????" cries the greatsword player. "Oh, ok, nothing's really changed," says the SnS main. It's a travesty, I tell you.

All of your movement is clunky. Attack timing is off. New school muscle memory is going to get you carted a lot. But hands down, the absolute most traumatizing thing is that there is no backwards dodge roll. You can dodge left, right, and forward, but never back. As a hunting horn main myself, I can assure you, this is a fate worse than hell. They say you never know love until you've loved and lost. You loved the backwards dodge roll, and soon, you'll know it.

And it gets even funnier if you play lance or gunlance— you can kiss your forward hop goodbye. Need to close the gap? Turn around, aim your squishy butt cheeks at the monster, and hop backwards towards it, expending absurd amounts of stamina in the process. Otherwise, walk slowly and threateningly towards it like the apex predator you are. Oh, and don't bother blocking attacks. It takes too much stamina, inflicts an abysmal knockback, and half of the time, you'll just get hit anyway. Guard and Guard Up are 100% necessary if you plan on using that shield. Good luck obtaining those skills, sucker.

The charge blade is somehow simultaneously more complicated and way easier to play than its modern iterations. The opposite is true of the switch axe, imo. Blunt weapons are stronger, but there's something a bit off about the way they feel. The longsword is the longsword. And as for the bowguns, I wouldn't be able to tell you, because I know better than that.

It doesn't matter what weapon you pick, because either way, you are going to develop a highly concerning dash juice dependency.

Take advantage of every tool the game provides. The usual stuff like barrel bombs, traps, and ballistae are indispensably helpful. But there are other familiar mechanics that are way more useful in old school MH than they are in newer games. That includes invading monsters (DEVILJHO!!), who will indiscriminately attack you AND the monster you're hunting, inadvertently aiding your hunt without you needing to wyvern ride or seek out a turf war. Jump off of ledges to rack up mounting damage in gen 4 games, which may reward you with a free knockdown (if you can mash fast enough)!

Monster's movements are janky, and this is in your favor. Get good at "head sniping" the monster as they turn around in 90 degree increments. Don't get greedy during small opportunities. Remember, monsters can go from t-posing, straight to crushing you to death, with zero wind-up animation.

There are no damage numbers when you land a hit. This may spoil the instant gratification factor of the game for a while. If you're a greatsword main, you will suffer from withdrawals due to Big Number Addiction. But over time you'll realize that it's actually fantastic, because now you're less obsessed with landing the super big awesome attack on the ultra weak spot for maximum damage. Instead, you'll find yourself savoring every little hit you manage to land. It'll be better for your cardiovascular health in the long run.

That's a good analogy for the entire new school to old school pipeline: it sucks A LOT for a long time, then gets really, really good later on once you get over the "Gen 5 stages of grief." Listen, you will have an abusive relationship with this game. It took me 80 HOURS before I could actually say with confidence that I liked MHGU more than I disliked it. Not that I loved it, but merely that I didn't hate it. 80 real life hours. That's... probably not good, but whatever.

There is one thing that I don't think I'll ever learn to love, though. And that's...

6. Armor Skills (AAAAAAA!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAGHHHHH!! AAAAAAAHHAGHHAAHGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!)

Face it. You will never, ever, ever be as powerful as you are in World or Rise. You will not have your maxxed out attack and affinity boosting skills plus the comfy stuff like Flinch Free and Stun Res all at the same time. Not in Low Rank, not in High Rank, and not quite in G Rank either. Here's why.

Skills have tiers as usual. But now, they also have thresholds. For example, you want the skill Speed Eating +1, then you'll need 10 points in the Eating skill. If you're even one point short, then the skill will not activate. But Speed Eating +1 doesn't increase your potion glugging speed... if you want that to happen, then you'll need to add 5 more points, for a total of 15, to activate Speed Eating +2. This is true for every skill, and is way easier said than done.

Some skills will feel nerfed big time, like Handicraft. You'll almost never see purple sharpness without Handicraft +2. On the other hand, Crit Draw is a one tier skill that gives you a flat 100% affinity boost on every draw attack. Which is absolutely busted.

Wearing a single piece of armor will provide a few points towards a given skill. If the armor has slots, then you can slot in decorations to increase the points as well. Slot "sizes" are weird and inconsistent, and the decos themselves typically only add 1 or 2 points per skill. Considering the fact that the average skill takes 10 points to activate, and the average full armor set has maaaybe around 7 slots to work with, decos are not going to be your primary source of skill activation.

Now for another problem. Let's say you want an armor set that has just three skills: Status Attack +1, Constitution +1, and Stun Res +1. Pretty modest, right? Should be easy enough. Well would you look at that, High Rank Nerscylla's armor set gets you the first two, and because Stun Res decos are worth 2 points each, you can just slot the last skill in! Nerscylla's set has 5 slots, which is the exact number you need to get those 10 points in Stun Res.

Great! So you do just that. Except when you check your skill points, you discover that Stun Res has a whopping zero points.

Yeah, so... negative skills are a thing. Nerscylla's armor comes with -10 points in Stun Res, activating the "skill" Double Stun. Which as the name suggests, doubles the amount of time that you stay stunned, and I don't think I have to explain why that's bad. -10 plus 10 is zero. So much for that Halve Stun you wanted so bad.

Not all skills have equivalent negative skills, but many armor pieces and most decos will have negative points. The challenge of set building comes from having to carefully balance and calculate your skill points, to make sure you're not accidentally charging into battle against Agnaktor while at -20 Fire Res. It can be frustrating if you're like me, and you've got swiss cheese for brains and can't handle the math. Fear not, I've got something amazing for you.

Allow me to introduce you to your new favorite website, Kiranico. This website hosts Monster Hunter databases containing literally everything that the games don't tell you, or do really half-ass job of telling you. That includes weapon upgrades, material drop rates, monster hitzones and health pools, and most importantly, armor sets and their respective skills. Being able to view all of this info all in one place makes it SO much easier to theorycraft new equipment sets.

Kiranico will save you from so much grief. Bookmark it and cherish it like your firstborn child.

Alas, no amount of Kiranico homework will make it easier to obtain the materials you want. The Desire Sensor is real, and it demands sacrifice.

7. The Desire Sensor (You Will Grind.)

It's commonly said that the game can sense exactly what you're grinding for, and will go to un-fucking-believable odds to avoid giving you that which you need most. This is the alleged "Desire Sensor."

Now, don't get me wrong, the newer games have moments like this, too. Don't even get me started about the 46 tries that it took me to get ONE Golden Almudron Orb, out of the TWO that I needed in Rise.

But until you get better gear, a single old school monster could take you 15+ minutes. Especially if you're on your own. Monster's health pools are not well scaled for solo players, so chances are, hunts are going to take way longer than usual if you don't resign yourself to getting tripped by a cheater with a longsword. Couple this with some god awful drop rates plus the disheartening quest rewards, and you're in for a loooooooong grind.

I would say you'll get used to it, but honestly, you won't. You'll get sick of it. You'll be shaking Kiranico by the metaphorical shoulders, desperate for any little thing that might speed up the grind. You might even be tempted to pick up a bowgun. Such a lapse in sanity is frightening, but it will pass. Stay strong.

Take breaks from the grind every now and then, or at least have two different grinds that you can switch back and forth between when you get exhausted of one. Since there is no escaping the Desire Sensor, this is unfortunately the only advice I can offer.

Disclaimer: the Desire Sensor is, as far as I'm aware, not a real mechanic programmed into the games. But godDAMN if it doesn't feel real. As anecdotal evidence, here's a small sample of my own suffering. Materials I wanted, the amount of them I wanted, their drop rates, and the sheer number of attempts it took to complete my goal (yes, I kept count.):

Lightning Sac x8 (G Rank Khezu): 15% chance to carve. 18% chance as quest reward. 27% chance as part break reward. HUNTS: 22

Paddock Cream x1 (G Rank Tetsucabra/Zamtrios): 40% chance to obtain two as subquest reward. 25% shiny drop. 25% chance as capture reward. 14% chance as quest reward. HUNTS: 8. I mean, what the fuck.

Monster Broth x5 (High Rank Insectoid Small Monster): 20% chance to carve. 20% shiny drop. SLAIN: >70

Viscous Radiant Mucus x17 (G Rank Nakarkos) 40% chance to gather; multiple gathering opportunities. 18% chance to obtain at least one as quest reward. 18% chance to obtain at least one as subquest reward. 15% chance per tentacle broken to obtain two. HUNTS: 15 (IT'S A 30+ MINUTE FIGHT SOLO. FML)

Was it worth it? Hell yeah! Do I think we should go back to the way things were in the old games? Fuck no! 46 Almudrons haunt me in my wildest nightmares— but at least I didn't feel my hair getting longer playing Rise.

On the bright side, at least the Desire Sensor has a sense of humor, if that last Khezu was anything to go by. Shout out to carving three lightning sacs in a row.

Phew! That about wraps things up.

Don't let this post deter you from trying out a "hard" Monster Hunter game. I don't regret my old school experiences. They've made me a much more patient and observant player, which weirdly enough, has carried over into other series I play, too. I can't say the same about any other game I've played in my life, and that's just one of many reasons why Monster Hunter holds such a special place in my heart.

I hope that by sharing my wisdom, I've saved at least one overwhelmed player a whole lot of headache. The rest is up to you, fellow hunter. Take it slow, and have fun!

Oh, and one more thing: press the dodge button while climbing in order to climb faster. Learned that one by accident 200 hours in.

#monster hunter #monhun #mh #oops. had an autism moment and banged this one out in under 48 hours. lmao #i don't know what compelled me.#i just think we need more text based guides in a world dominated by video tutorials. so uhhh #here ya go!#long post #very long post #lol.

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