#behold these fists motherfucker im coming for you

[celtarican2]

Fallout tv show trailer… must analyze

First up here’s a link to it: https://youtu.be/V-mugKDQDlg?si=McsBqe6Tg55MCOSb

Now then, to the good stuff.

1. NCR!! NCR!! NEW CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC BABYYYYY!!! Shady Sands is highlighted clearly, and seeing the NCR brings joy to my heart, judging by what we’ve scene I can only imagine the NCR BOS war takes center stage throughout this story.

2. The comical amounts of gore, that’s core to fallout. You shoot someone and that motherfucker’s head explodes, as god intended.

3. The Ghoul design… normal human beings are more ghoulish then that

4. DOG!!! DOGMEAT!!! DOG!!!

5. Seeing the airships was beautiful. It was mentioned in tactics how the BOS had many of these, and seeing one in live action was a sight to behold.

6. Fucked up mutants baby! Im pretty sure the one we see coming up from the water looked like an axolotl? I may be wrong, exciting nonetheless!

7. Power armor being power armor, beautiful, fist fight that Yao Gui!!

8. “Everyone wants to save the world, they just disagree on how.” Is honestly a huge theme of the later games, and I love that,

My rating: 8/10, extremely excited, wish the ghouls were better, if the zombies in TWD looked good ten years ago we can make good ghouls today

[spookyspaghettisundae]

So Even Gods Can Die

Beeping. Revolving metallic sounds. Click. Computerized monitors. The light everywhere, blinding at first, then softening until his vision cleared. Click. Whirr. Click.

Bright light from the fluorescent tube overhead and daylight flooding in from a window. But it was not actually that bright. Click. It was his eyes slowly adjusting. The feeling of needles in his skin, taped down, and the plastic tubes hooked up to his nose to help him breathe.

Lips parched, throat dry. Click. When he swallowed, it felt like forcing down a lump of sand and lava. A woman sat in the room, and he did not recognize her. Click. But she looked at him, expectantly. Whirr.

A white box on the table next to the bed. Like one containing a cake. Click. The woman sitting in the room stared at him. The ominous white box stared at him. Click. Whirr.

It wasn’t his time yet. He refused to accept that. But between the woman and the box, he knew he was going to die.

Grit and sand clung to her clothes. Any spots of exposed skin featured myriads of cuts and scratches. Black rings of exhaustion lined her eyes, and her clothing looked like it had been mangled in a meat grinder.

The woman picked up a chart attached to the end of his bed and idly flipped through its pages. Click.

“Who are you?” he finally asked her.

She flapped the pages back up front and tossed the chart onto the foot of his bed. He watched but was too weak to protest. With delay, he registered that he couldn’t even feel it when the clipboard landed on his legs.

“I’m Kim. Here because we need you,” she said. Her words rolled out and sounded even more tired than she looked. Her eyes had a dull sheen, like she hadn’t slept in days or had taken some drugs, or practically had only caffeine in her veins.

Thump.

The white box on the table thumped again. It had moved half an inch. Although he had only seen it from the corner of his eye, he could have sworn that its walls had bent outwards when something thumped inside of it. Like there was a small animal trapped within.

“What’s in that box?” he asked. He lifted fingers, attached to a drip and some cables. Feeble, trembling softly as he tried to point at the gift box.

“Don’t worry about it; it’s got nothin’ to do with you. Or, well, maybe it doesn’t need to have anything to do with you,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. He had heard the threat implied in there.

He blinked—hard. Blinked again. Blinked so hard that it became painful.

The edges of his vision lost their blurriness. The fuzzy edges on everything straightened out—turned sharp. The clouds cleared from his memories.

His name was Gabriel. Gabriel understood his place in the world again. More powerful than his current state of being revealed. Even though his body had begun to betray him, he contained power beyond what normal mortal man could comprehend. More powerful than most of the wretches working in this hospital, or living in this pathetic city all around them.

A living god.

Or so he believed. Click.

“Cut the shit. What do you think you need? What do you hope to get from me?” Gabriel asked. Ordered. Every word he spoke hurt, as if each syllable rasped over his soft insides like sand paper.

“You don’t know us, but you may know Kevin,” Kim said. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. The plastic squeaked, the metal creaked.

Thump.

The box had moved closer yet again. Like something inside of it was trying to get closer.

“Don’t mind it. If you get upset, it gets more violent,” she commented.

They both peeled their eyes off of the innocuous white box of terror and their gazes met.

Click. Whirr.

Gabriel pondered for a second and then sneered. He knew Kevin, alright. Michael’s protege and worst nemesis.

The person who was going to bring everything down.

“We need to find him, help him return from the House,” she said.

Gabriel chuckled. The chuckle transformed into coughing after a few labored revolutions of the laugh, leading to him hacking and wheezing.

His body had truly reached its end, but he refused to let go. Two hundred years was a long time.

Once he had gathered himself and felt her burning stare on himself, he asked, “How long’s that motherfucker been in there?”

“Three months,” she replied.

Gabriel closed his eyes and mulled it over. Bad number.

THUMP.

He ignored it. Probably just a baby of an entity inside that box.

It was more important to figure out what he was dealing with here.

Click.

How he could kill this woman.

Gabriel uttered a string of profanities; with no power in it because of his failing lungs, but more than enough zeal to express his disgust. She listened to his every odious word. He gave it a rest after a solid half a minute of swearing.

Click. Whirr.

“Fuck him,” he finally concluded. “Can rot in that hellish Otherworld for all I care.”

“No,” Kim said. Resolute, like a cliff standing defiantly against the ocean’s waves.

“No?”

“No,” she repeated. The word crashed like thunder. It fed into a headache growing behind Gabriel’s forehead. She added, “Once he’s out of the House, he can finish his transformation.”

Gabriel glared at her. His eyes simmered with rage and his tear ducts burned, not capable of producing the salty fluid anymore. His flesh was weak. But he still had other means. Other power. Power this woman failed to notice.

She had made a mistake by coming here like this.

THUMP.

He couldn’t be sure about the white box, though. He pondered if he was underestimating it.

Resigned to his fate here, he knew this was going to be a brutal battle. Not quite as uneven as his current state looked.

“Falmaghorr,” he whispered. So feebly that it sounded like nonsense, or like he was having a stroke.

“What?” Kim asked.

Click.

“Nevermind,” he sighed. Either she was stupid or he had snuck that past her. “You know, right? That when he completes that damned transformation, the world ends?” he asked her.

“And a new one is born,” Kim spoke with reverence, incessantly staring into Gabriel’s eyes. Into his soul.

She was convinced. Had chosen a side in this war. Her words just now—a declaration. A war cry, delivered with the eerie calmness that only zealots can produce.

“For every dream that is dying, a new world is born,” Gabriel mused, reciting the old poem that his kind were wont to sing. He broke out into another chuckle, dry and sardonic. Erupting into coughs at the tail end once more.

THUMP.

Kim pulled a small silver box from her jacket pocket and opened it to show him something inside of it. A steel syringe that looked like it came from a different age. Weathered, old, scratched.

“You came for my blood?” he asked. “Ridiculous. You could have just—you didn’t need me to be awake for—”

He stopped choking on those words. It dawned on him.

Blood of a dying hierophant—a potent reagent. One with powerful symbolic tension. And like all things magick, one where the symbolic tension lies in just how literal it was.

“Can’t beat the reaper,” he sighed. “Nobody beats the reaper. All you do is entertain ‘im. And hope you get off easy when it’s time to punch your final card.”

Kim took the syringe into her hands, slipped her fingers into its metal loops, but rested the awful thing on her lap. Waited. She was waiting for the moment during which he died. Had she put something into his IV drip to slowly kill him? Was she going to smother him with a pillow?

“Nice speech, asshole. You’ve lived way past your expiration date. After all you’ve done—after all the things you’ve gone and done to people—I think you’re getting off easy. Real easy.”

“Yeah? How you gonna do me in, bitch?”

Click.

Kim’s tired face contorted. With painful slowness, accentuated by the exhaustion written all over her visage, she formed a wide smile.

Click. Whirr.

“I ain’t gonna do a damned thing. Your time’s up, you Rasputin son of a bitch. I have a friend who—well, let’s just say she just knows these things. You’re about to punch your final card—right about now.”

She checked her wristwatch—whether it was out of genuine curiosity or to emphasize her words did not matter. Gabriel felt the weight of time crushing down on him. In his mind, the clock’s arms ticked away, second by second, ever closer to his doom.

The door to the room opened and both their heads turned to behold the new arrival. Kim had whisked the syringe away into hiding, holding it inside her jacket, her entire fist buried in there in an uncomfortable position.

A nurse entered and walked around the bed. She placed a cup of water on the table next to Gabriel. In contrast to the bright and happy colors of her scrubs, the nurse’s head was just a cloud of shadows and tentacles. Despite her name tag identifying her as Beverly Winters, the demon’s name was Falmaghorr.

Kim couldn’t see it. Its power over human minds held true; the entity looked like a normal nurse to her. She even smiled at Gabriel’s servant before Falmaghorr left the room and left them alone again. He sensed his demonic servant’s presence hovering just outside, waiting for him to summon it to battle inside this tiny room.

To think that he, who had seen the rise and fall of empires, would be fighting for his life in such a tiny, sterile room.

Click.

He had no intention of letting this harlot easily take his blood.

“In one last act of defiance against nature, he hopes to transform into a woman,” Gabriel theorized. “Because only a woman can give birth, and only a woman can birth a new world. Is that the idea?”

Kim said nothing. She checked her wristwatch again. Pulled out the syringe.

“You’re out of your fucking minds,” he growled. He suppressed the urge to cough that came with it.

“Time to go, you old bastard.”

“Now,” he uttered, oozing with contempt.

The room’s door burst open and Falmaghorr stomped inside.

The white box exploded. A black fog roiled out from it, churning like oil on water, spreading like a flood, engulfing everything in a flash, continuing to gush out of what seemed to be a bottomless pit inside that tiny white box.

Not a cake emerged from it, but mouths. Eyes. Things that cackled, and gibbered, and gnashed their tiny little teeth. Falmaghorr was consumed within seconds, blood spraying all over the place.

Kim was bathed in blood and gore from the entity’s body being ripped to shreds, but leaning over Gabriel. He felt the needle only after it had ruptured the skin.

Even through the cacophony of alien voices, he could hear the sounds of the machines.

Click. Whirr.

Blood being drained. Kim getting one step closer to breaking the House wide open.

Gabriel screamed.

Even gods can die.

—Submitted by Wratts

[laurenbrightwing]

For about 0.2 seconds I (reluctantly) found Jonahlias’ enthusiasm for birthday cake endearing, in a disgusting sort of way.

Then he used voyeuristic fear powers to expose Jon’s birthday wish and CALLED HIM ARCHIVIST INSTEAD OF HIS NAME in his birthday song, and I immediately remembered how much I want to pull his brain out through his eye sockets.