#ambuscade

[oldschoolfrp]

"Ambuscade" -- The party tries to get the drop on a cyclopean giant, with the wizard behind a rock, the fighter behind a column, and the archer lurking in shadows near the ceiling (Morno -- Bradley W Schenck, The Arduin Grimoire Vol II: Welcome to Skull Tower by Dave Hargrave, Grimoire Games, 1978)

[opheliacrias]

Earlier today I released the free demo for my yandere visual novel ambuscade! Contains 4 “endings,” customizable name & pronouns, and around an hour of playtime :) you can check it out on itch.io using the link! Please check out the warnings and dev log before you play.

[vertex-stan]

Mini Disparation #3

What if the Legacy line was ambitious?

Joseph Parsons gets way more involved in the American Revolution, and ends up becoming sort of an elite strike commander for Washington. When Washington becomes President, he apoints Joseph Parsons as the head of Military Intelligence. Joseph commands the Bureau for decades.

During the War of 1812, Paul Parsons is awarded a medal of valor for commanding the American defense of Washington DC, and drawing a truly impressive amount of British Blood there. He ends up commanding the American invasion of Canada. Though he doesn't conquer all of Canada, he does seize Ottawa, and convince Quebec to rebel agaainst the British. Quebec then joins the US as a State in 1822. These successes propel Paul Parsons all the way to the White House in 1824.

Paul Parsons the First has been elected to his third term, when he makes a controversial decision. He tries to abolish slavery. This immediately kicks off a fracture and almost civil war. However, Paul crushes the dissidents with the assistance of his son Paul the Second. Afterwards he argues that all now freed African slaves should be full citizens. With all the things he has done, h has enough pull to basically rewrite the executive powers. He basically makes it so the President appoints their successor. After a few more years of rule, he appoints his son as the new President.

This works in large part because most of the day to day running of the country is done by state and congressional individuals, who are still elected. Additional, most of the Parsons who aren't president at any given time are high ranking military officers.

During the Mexican American war, the rumors of the Parsons being supernaturally blessed is proven true when Paul the third smashes down a city wall wih his bare hands. This, along with slavery being a dead institution leads to several Mexican provinces being integrated as States. Also, no Andrew Jackson as president, so no trail of tears and a lot more Indians in the Eastern United States.

Later, during Paul the third's presidency, Paul the Fourth leads a campiagn to conquer the rest of Canada. This leads to a largely united North America Under Parsons rule.

Things go broadly pretty good until World War 1 kicks off and Paul Parsons the sixth leads a American volunteers to join the war on the side of the Germans in 1916. His flight and power is so impressive that it leads to a few other super humans showing up and being recruited by the US government. Notably, Paul the sixth recruits a scientist called Fyodor Ramonant and helps him to get to safet in America.

America's dominance in Super heroes leads to a sandoffish relaionship with the great powers of Europe due to these unique advantages. Over time, the US widens the technological gap between them and the European powers thanks to Fyodor Ramonant, Henry Goodman, and, eventually, Meredith Stinson and Ivan Ramonant

This starts to lead to an upperclass of Superhumans and genius inventors. This leads to the modern day, where President Paul Parsons the 8th leads an United States that spans North America. At his hands he has agents like Ivan Ramonant, Dawn Cohen, and Meredith Stinson.

However, they are opposed by a sort of rag-tag opponents, sort of downtrodden, not really super humans, including Ambuscade, Wraith, and Sofia DeLeon.

[kooldewd123]

Tumblr needs more Sentinels of the Multiverse content in general, but especially of Ansel in particular.

Look at this man's absolute swagger. Kicking back shirtless next to the fireplace with the heads of his enemies mounted on the wall. This man should be doing numbers on this website and it's a goddamn crime that he isn't.

[prophecyoflunarflame]

Somewhat outdated Runner art along with some equally somewhat outdated refs for both Runner and Ambuscade. Good enough as refs for now, though you can probably already spot design changes between the ref and the drawing for Runner. They will be updated, at some point at least.

Runner is based off a Lionfish while Ambuscade is based off a Betta fish. Yes the spines are poisonous.

Designs are also completely free to use as long as you credit me. Feel free to add your own spins to the design as well!

[altitudeslocalgroup]

(Cutely tells in detail to DOH how to make a nuclear bomb)

[DON: . . . Well, it certainly seems that my overseers managed to locate one of the lizards! I don't. . . think it damaged the overseer at all. That's relieving.]

[fernmusing]

Chapters: 7/? Ambuscades

Over the course of the morning she dabbled in leading questions to prompt conversation but was thwarted every time. Eli was a man of very few words, although she didn’t think he was in want of them. At her questioning of his jacket, he admitted to being an ex-Scout and cavalry Sergeant. Having grown up in the shadow of one taciturn soldier, she recognised the stalwart silence to be observational. A man more adept at keeping his cards close to his chest than she was.

[auralatrocityabyss]

Nortmanni Ambuscader

Vassus

[folkdevilfables]

✵ Arachnid Ambuscade | Solomon x gn!reader

drabble (0.7k words) | sfw | gn!reader | fluff/angst

cw: spider mention, set in Nightbringer, mutual attraction, no established relationship, MC is an oblivious dunce & Solomon is touchstarved to the point that sudden close physical contact with his LI nearly makes him faint on the spot lmao

You were simply minding your own business, reorganizing some things in your room at Cocytus Hall when you suddenly noticed a huge spider twice the size of your hand on the wall to your left.

You let out a little scream and jumped away from the wall, bumping into something. Or someone.

"MC? Are you okay?"

You felt Solomon behind you stiffen in surprise as you bumped into him, one of your hands brushing his thigh. Or his hip. You couldn't really tell, you were too occupied with anxiously staring at the big spider on your bedroom wall to keep watch of whether it was moving or not.

While the sight of a spider didn't put you in a state of panic, you didn't really like spiders all that much. Especially when they were potentially dangerous and/or appeared on the wall of your bedroom wholly uninvited, deciding they intended to make your room their forever home and not pay any rent. You weren’t a big fan to say the least.

Small spiders weren't really a problem, it was the bigger ones that you were mildly terrified of. Which was stupid when you thought about it, since the smaller ones were usually the venomous ones and the bigger ones rather harmless... But you were in the Devildom and just assumed that everything was out to get you six feet under by default.

"Please get the spider out of my room, Solomon. Please please please."

You shrieked and winced as it moved.

"Anything for my adorable apprentice."

One incantation later and the spider was gone.

"...Is it gone?" Yes, you were looking at the obviously spiderless wall, but you wanted to make extra sure. Just in case. Better safe than sorry.

"Yes. I used a teleportation spell to send it to another place, away from Cocytus Hall."

"Oh, thank Diavolo." You let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Solomon!"

Turning around, you hugged him.

The surprise of a sudden hug caught the sorcerer off-guard. It took him a second to regain his composure and hug you back.

"Anyday, MC."

As you wrapped your arms around him, you felt his heart beating ferociously in his chest.

You looked up and wanted to ask him if everything was alright, but then you saw that he had small ivory feathers in his hair.

"Did your pillows explode during one of your experiments? There are feathers in your hair."

Without asking for his permission, you reached up to gently pluck the feathers out of his hair, your hand brushing his cheeks and nose several times in the process.

A good look at his face showed that his cheeks were now pale pink and his breaths ever so slightly shallow.

You eyed him worriedly. "Sol, are you okay? Do you have a fever? Was the spicy zombie dragon liver curry you ate for lunch today a little too much for you? Do you want me to go get you some medica-"

Before he had the chance to respond your D.D.D started ringing, the sudden loud noise startling both of you. Taking a step back from Solomon, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and answered the call.

"MC, there’s a giant spider in the House of Lamentation and it has already devoured Asmo's vanity and Mammon's car and now it’s chasing us!" You heard Asmo's blood curdling scream in the background while Levi was panting, trying to hastily explain the situation while presumably running for his life. "Lucifer is currently at the Demon Lord's Castle - Please, you need to help! I don't know how much longer we can run!" Mammon yowled as Levi shrieked and the sound of something being smashed could be heard.

You looked at Solomon.

The sorcerer was attentively watching you, sporting a sly smirk.

"I... erm... Levi... I don't know how to tell you this, but I can't handle spiders myself. I'm sorry, I doubt I’d be any help."

"Please MC, anything -"

Solomon gingerly plucked the D.D.D out of your hand.

"I'm sorry Leviathan, but this is one of MC's scheduled off days and they're very busy currently. I'm sure you'll be able to handle the spider on your own. Good Luck!" He cheerily ended the call and placed your phone back on the nightstand.

You shuddered. "Well, I won't be setting foot into the House of Lamentation until that spider is gone, that's for sure."

Solomon smugly smiled. "Perfect, that means I get more time to have you to myself."

Unedited Solomon icon can be found here | support banner and divider made by @/saradika | all rights reserved banner by @/cafekitsune

[mysunfreckle]

(:

Here there be credits!

Marvellous text by @krindor, in reply to @micewithknive's post and @triquizzies' comment.

Inspired by @itsbenedict's flawless reading of @maverick-ornithography's infamous post.

Pelican image source [X].

Music: Ambuscade by Purple Planet.

With love to @starkey <3

[natalieironside]

I love Star War. I love it when Captain Snackbar says his signature catch phrase "Oh dip, 'tis an ambuscade."

[blissfulip]

Dopamine

on AO3

Viktor x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, dubious science, mostly canon compliant, no use of y/n, chemist!reader, eventual smut, masturbation

Cw: Allusion to sexual themes, just general bickering on this one

Words: 1.8k

[A/N: I know this one took forever, sorry about that lmao, tags and content warnings to be updated in each chapter, updates weekly(ish). (also, let me know if you want to be tagged in fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Previous Next

Chapter 5: Rise to the occasion

“Wait,Viktor—” You said, trying to catch up to him since he stormed out of the Hextech lab, “We can’t just walk back in there together as if nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“I’m talking about us doing something well-nigh against academy rules; they will ask questions.”

“Oh, eh—you go in first."

The opportunity to counter was stolen from you and substituted by the cold touch of Viktor’s hands upon your back, jostling your body effortlessly through the library door. He came in behind you shortly after, and you thought the interval in between both of you walking in was not long enough to make a dent in the opinion of everyone watching.

“The interval in between both of us walking in was not long enough to make a dent in the opinion of everyone watching.”

“No one gives a hoot about where we might have gone; stop concerning yourself with their opinion."

It was virtually an ambuscade. When you sat back right where your book had been left and Viktor was on the chair opposite you, a friend and a foe together in liue of curiosity came without a warning and joined you. Asher seemed increasingly more annoyed than Lara, whom you suspected was simply thirsty for some quality gossip.

“So… you snuck out together, where to?” She asked with a shit-eating grin creeping up across her face.

“The dorms.” You astonishingly managed to answer in unison.

“Whose?” Asher shot at you immediately after, not leaving any time for thinking.

“Listen you—” Viktor started, and you were sure his intentions were going to take him somewhere he’d regret, so you interjected.

“We just needed to get some of our work instruments; it's not a big deal,” you said awkwardly.

“I thought your dorm was on the west wing; why did you go together?” Lara questioned you (and correctly, alas).

“You know what they say: ‘you shouldn’t count your birds before you hit them with a stone’.” You said, in the most deadpan way you could find in you.

“She needed help choosing which one of the books would be better for the presentation she is planning, and I needed help carrying some of the heavier volumes. We…killed two birds with one stone.” He said, entirely unconvinced but long resigned.

“Right, and you accepted his help with your work?” Said Asher with a cynical eyebrow raise.

“Well, the arrogance, fear of public speaking, long-term sickly obsession with work, and his careless neglect of social cues make up for an almost tolerable knowledge of many useful subjects.”

Viktor looked at you with knitted brows, his mouth agape, as if he at some point had the intention of saying something but gave up on it as the hint of faint praise in your statement made him befuddled enough to not know what to say.

“Uh, fine, just let us know you’ll be out next time; we have to make the week one report for Heimerdinger, and you two were nowhere to be found for like an hour."

“We could’ve been here earlier, but as you are both aware, she is chronologically challenged.”

"Wha—we were running against the clock because someone had to stop by the restroom on our way back.” You said, the pitch of your voice was getting higher as the irritation grew.

“I wonder why.”

“I know why, and I don’t particularly understand why you are saying it like it was my fault.”

By that point, both Asher and Lara, after sharing a look of reproach with each other, had quietly stood up and gone back to their respective work tables, leaving the two of you to quarrel in private.

“I’m sure in hindsight you can see clearly that dragging me into a small closet was regrettably ill-advised; you have such a talent for slip-ups that one could almost think you do it on purpose.”

“You think I wanted you to rise to the occasion, on purpose?” You said in a slightly mocking tone.

“You are certainly taking the opportunity to rag on me because of it.”

“If I wanted to make fun of you for that, I would've done it on the way here, Viktor, and just so you know, if I wanted to be the cause of your late-afternoon wood, a cleaning closet wouldn’t be my choice of scenery.”

“Stop calling it those names; it’s horrid—in fact, just quit talking about it; it’s giving me a tension headache."

"Oh, I apologize. Am I being too silly about the thing that you just reminded me about? I’ll make sure to talk about you b-o-n-e-r more solemnly in the future."

“I’m sorry if I thought you’d be able to take things seriously; that wasn’t my intention.”

“I am. I can take things so seriously that I will go back to my work over there, where I don’t have to hear you sniffle every two seconds, the heel of your shoe clanking on the floor, and your pen clicking repeatedly.” You said with a sour expression as you removed his journals from your bag and walked over to the other side of the library.

“Choice of scenery; who does she think she is?" Viktor mumbled quietly to himself before noticing the unintentional clicking of his pen and quietly putting it down on the table with an almost imperceptible pout.

----------------------------------------------

Both the second and third meetings, as well as the halfway report with Heimerdinger, went sufficiently well, with your own presentation already in the final stages. It had been a particularly lazy morning; your eyes had nearly not opened, pushed closed by the heavy lids of a sleepless night, and the burgeoning symptoms of what you suspected could turn into the flu, when you decided to skip the last meeting and give your speech the finishing touches in the comfort of your own bed.

Since everything had been finished and you figured everyone would assume you were sick or had other commitments, you didn't tell anybody, hoping your absence would be disregarded. You soon learned that was a misjudgment on your part when you heard someone knock on the door to your dorm room well into the afternoon.

 “I can’t believe you got sick too!” Lara said as soon as you cracked the door open.

“Too?”

“Cirian is terribly sick as well; there must be some sort of epidemic!”

“I’m sorry… who?” 

“Cirian, from Biology.” She said, absentmindedly, as she scrambled in the kitchen for something, “Where do you keep your mugs? I’ll brew you some tea.”

"Ah, yes, top left.” So that’s his name. “I’m quite alright, though; I just needed some rest.”

“That’s good to hear because Heimerdinger said you and Viktor would have to fill in for him.”

“You have to be kidding me.” You said throwing your body back on your bed dramatically.

“I thought you’d be ecstatic,” she said as she came back with two mugs and a puzzled expression, to which you responded with one to match. "Well, you’d have an excuse to spend more time with him.”

“And why on Heimerdinger’s fluffy mustache would I want that?”

"Well, you two are dating, no?”

"No, we’re fucking not. Where did you get that idea?”

“You’re pulling my leg now, come on." She said with a small chuckle, and when you did not laugh but looked at her with concern, she continued. “Well… He seemed to be quite into you that day you were at my place, and you were very flirty.”

“I was drunk!” You said trying to defend yourself and trying to ignore what she had said about him being into you; it wasn’t a thought you wanted to consider at that moment.

“Fair, but then, I thought all that banter you two have was just playful bickering.”

“It’s most certainly not; I despise him, and he hates me with a passion.”

“With a passion, alright.” She said with a cheeky smirk that she tried to hide by taking a sip of the tea.

“What do you know that I don’t?”

“I know something that neither of you do, apparently. But I  digress." She said, gulping the last bit of tea and leaving the mug on the sink before turning back to you. “I’d go talk to Heimerdinger before he leaves for the day, if I were you."

She left shortly after, leaving you to ruminate about more than one of the things that were said.  She couldn’t possibly be making any sense, could she? Perhaps you should have asked what she meant by Viktor being ‘into you’ that night, but then again, you had noticed a slight change in his physiognomy.

You weren’t as drunk as you claimed to be, and it was this small change—the blush all over his face when he saw you—that made you look at him through your eyelashes so suggestively. It was the small gasp hitched on his throat that made you swing your hips when you walked slowly to where he stood. It was his white knuckles and his fingers clasped together in a tight fist around his vest that made you lower your voice into a purr when you said his name. You wanted to provoke him; his reaction was so akin to one of fury that you relished the possibility of making him hate you more.

There was no reason to bend over the table to write, not in the way you did, at least. You just wanted to, although you still tried to convince yourself that it had the same motivations as everything else you had done that night.

If you didn't know of further proof that backed up Lara's theory (which she herself was unaware of), it would have been reasonable to conclude that she had made an unfortunate misinterpretation of the situation. You caught yourself grinning at the memory of it—how you had been enjoying the scent of Viktor’s perfume and the feeling of his chest pressing against you—even before you noticed what the proximity of your bodies was doing to him.

Raise to the occasion was such a good one; he really can’t appreciate a good joke.

”B-o-n-e-r” You spelled it out loud to yourself with a hearty chuckle.

And even after you did notice it, a smug little voice in your head was telling you to lean closer, to see how far you could take it before he either said something unspeakably rude to you or took it the opposite way, but you had to be circumspect. You were the picture of practicality, yet he still had the gall to get angry at you. 

My fault…ha. If I had been doing it on purpose, that closet would’ve become too small for what he’d want to do with—

You had to physically shake that thought away and remind yourself that regardless of how fun it was to mess with him, Viktor was still incredibly insufferable to work in the same vicinity as, let alone with, so it’d be better to talk to Heimerdinger and get this whole debacle sorted out.

You did, however, spend the entirety of the way there thinking about the scent of saffron and leather.

[stephensmithuk]

The Valley of Fear: The Darkest Hour

CW discussions of capital punishment and suicide.

A cur in the US was a short-haired dog used for hunting. In Victorian Britain, it was also an insult, one that you often associate with pirates.

“Sure, hard words break no bones.”

They may not, but any victim of bullying can tell you they can do long-term wounds in other ways.

 Only once did McMurdo see him, a sly, little gray-haired rat of a man, with a slinking gait and a sidelong glance which was charged with malice.

ACD with the rodent comparisons again!

Georges Danton was a leading figure in the French Revolution and the first President of the Committee of Public Safety. His opposition to the "Reign of Terror" would lead to his political downfall and then his guillotining on 5 April 1974. His rival, Maximilien Robespierre, ended up (after a failed suicide attempt) meeting the same fate just under four months later.

Itinerant preachers were those who would travel around preaching the Christian message, staying in many places for a short period in time.

Deep-level mines often have cage lifts that go down from the surface to the mining level - these can easily go down hundreds of metres. The lifting equipment will sometimes be the last thing left of a former mine visible:

I believe that you would generally go down at the start of your shift and come up at the end - having lunch down there.

but was met by two balls in the face which dropped him dead at their very feet.

"Ball" in this context is probably referring to "full-metal jacket" rounds, but round lead balls were used in muskets.

He had insisted, however, upon efficiency in the work, and had, therefore, paid off certain drunken and idle employees who were members of the all-powerful society.

"Paid off" in this context means giving the employees the money they were owed and ending their employment at the same time. It would be a common feature in the shipping business, with crew members hired just for the voyage.

Coffin notices were death threats that depicted a coffin. Here is an example from the Molly Maguires.

A contretemps is a minor dispute or mishap.

Color Sergeant is a military rank. Historically, they protected the ensigns who were carrying the regimental colours used for marshalling troops - losing them would be a matter of deep disgrace.

Ambuscade is another term for an ambush. I like to think of it as one wearing a top hat, maybe a monocle too.

[prophecyoflunarflame]

More people should draw and use Runner and Ambuscade I think

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Photo by Viridiana Rivera

* * * *

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗱

Don Julio receives in a violence of roses; The sun to him is stained with jacaranda, A purple flush on the jowls of an emperor.

(Outside his flaking wall the street is a street Of walls, and the guests of don Julio wait In the shadow while the maid prevaricates Obscurely in a clutter of bougainvillea And clay tureens. Unlike the Baroque interior, A facade turned inward, a sham colonnade For the living, don Julio lurks behind his eyes Like the true Indian, saving an ambuscade Of flowers for the intruder.)

Don Julio receives in a violence of roses: Don Julio born is wrapped in don Julio dead; Don Julio's king is a flame, and his throne is ashes.

But stroll with him where his cathedral raises Gothic fingers to the same fat king Who beams coequally on too many roses And too many angels wound in stone acanthus.

(Today we eat bread in the shape of the dead and candy Skulls with our names, and lunch in the cemetery, While the dead in don Julio's room sip at the amber Mezcal he has left for them, and pull at the cigars Over the last of their dinner.)

It is for Julio 'a reasonable ambition' To be amusing on a tombstone, or to scatter His pomp with petals where the bishops bring Waters and wine to sup with the son of a king.

-- Donald Finkel --

[Echoes of Panhala]