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linkyu · 9 months

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tell me about your defense contract pleage

Oh boy!

To be fair, it's nothing grandiose, like, it wasn't about "a new missile blueprint" or whatever, but, just thinking about what it could have become? yeesh.

So, let's go.

For context, this is taking place in the early 2010s, where I was working as a dev and manager for a company that mostly did space stuff, but they had some defence and security contracts too.

One day we got a new contract though, which was... a weird one. It was state-auctioned, meaning that this was basically a homeland contract, but the main sponsor was Philip Morris. Yeah. The American cigarette company.

Why? Because the contract was essentially a crackdown on "illegal cigarette sales", but it was sold as a more general "war on drugs" contract.

For those unaware (because chances are, like me, you are a non-smoker), cigarette contraband is very much a thing. At the time, ~15% of cigarettes were sold illegally here (read: they were smuggled in and sold on the street).

And Phillip Morris wanted to stop that. After all, they're only a small company worth uhhh... oh JFC. Just a paltry 150 billion dollars. They need those extra dollars, you understand?

Anyway. So they sponsored a contract to the state, promising that "the technology used for this can be used to stop drug deals too". Also that "the state would benefit from the cigarettes part as well because smaller black market means more official sales means a higher tax revenue" (that has actually been proven true during the 2020 quarantine).

Anyway, here was the plan:

Phase 1 was to train a neural network and plug it in directly to the city's video-surveillance system, in order to detect illegal transactions as soon as they occur. Big brother who?

Phase 2 was to then track the people involved in said transaction throughout the city, based on their appearance and gait. You ever seen the Plainsight sheep counting video? Imagine something like this but with people. That data would then be relayed to police officers in the area.

So yeah, an automated CCTV-based tracking system. Because that's not setting a scary precedent.

So what do you do when you're in that position? Let me tell you. If you're thrust unknowingly, or against your will, into a project like this,

Note. The following is not a legal advice. In fact it's not even good advice. Do not attempt any of this unless you know you can't get caught, or that even if you are caught, the consequences are acceptable. Above all else, always have a backup plan if and when it backfires. Also don't do anything that can get you sued. Be reasonable.

Let me introduce you to the world of Corporate Sabotage! It's a funny form of striking, very effective in office environments.

Here's what I did:

First of all was the training data. We had extensive footage, but it needed to be marked manually for the training. Basically, just cropping the clips around the "transaction" and drawing some boxes on top of the "criminals". I was in charge of several batches of those. It helped that I was fast at it since I had video editing experience already. Well, let's just say that a good deal of those markings were... not very accurate.

Also, did you know that some video encodings are very slow to process by OpenCV, to the point of sometimes crashing? I'm sure the software is better at it nowadays though. So I did that to another portion of the data.

Unfortunately the training model itself was handled by a different company, so I couldn't do more about this.

Or could I?

I was the main person communicating with them, after all.

Enter: Miscommunication Master

In short (because this is already way too long), I became the most rigid person in the project. Like insisting on sharing the training data only on our own secure shared drive, which they didn't have access to yet. Or tracking down every single bug in the program and making weekly reports on those, which bogged down progress. Or asking for things to be done but without pointing at anyone in particular, so that no one actually did the thing. You know, classic manager incompetence. Except I couldn't be faulted, because after all, I was just "really serious about the security aspect of this project. And you don't want the state to learn that we've mishandled the data security of the project, do you, Jeff?"

A thousand little jabs like this, to slow down and delay the project.

At the end of it, after a full year on this project, we had.... a neural network full of false positives and a semi-working visualizer.

They said the project needed to be wrapped up in the next three months.

I said "damn, good luck with that! By the way my contract is up next month and I'm not renewing."

Last I heard, that city still doesn't have anything installed on their CCTV.

tl;dr: I used corporate sabotage to prevent automated surveillance to be implemented in a city--

hey hold on

wait

what

HEY ACTUALLY I DID SOME EXTRA RESEARCH TO SEE IF PHILLIP MORRIS TRIED THIS SHIT WITH ANOTHER COMPANY SINCE THEN AND WHAT THE FUCK

HUH??????

well what the fuck was all that even about then if they already own most of the black market???

#i'm sorry this got sidetracked in the end #i'm speechless #anyway yeah!#sometimes activism is sitting in an office and wasting everyone's time in a very polite manner #i learned that one from the CIA actually

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thesirencult · 9 months

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YOU NEED PEOPLE LIKE ME / DARK PSYCHOLOGY

You need people like me. You need people like me so you can point your f*****’ fingers and say, “That’s the bad guy.” So what that make you? Good? You’re not good. You just know how to hide, how to lie.

(Tony Montana, Scarface)

Most people can not handle their darker side. They can not handle their ego and their deepest desires. Now, I'm not telling you to become like Tony Montana. He was consumed by his vices and they run the show for him. I'm telling you to do what you what to do and to stop lying to yourself and hiding from your true nature.

A couple of years ago, I met a girl who had an obsession with finding a wealthy man. She did not care about anything else other than the money. In her defense, she grew up in a poor family where, her dad beat her mom up and he even did that while her mom was pregnant with her.

That girl was studying finance. She took up Arabic and wanted to work for off shore companies where she could find a husband. She specifically told me she wanted her husband to drive a Porsche which has more prestige than a BMW and buy her a BMW cause the woman should be beneath her husband. Overall she was "micey" in character. If you didn't know her you would think she was shy and religious, but. you should know better guys, these people have more ego problems than the most outspoken, egomaniac extrovert.

So, she looked "weak" but had an agenda. She also was trying to give off the "trad wife" vibe but salivated as soon as a man breathed her direction and shamed any woman who showcased her seductiveness.

A few days ago, she messaged me. She wanted to grab a coffee with me as she would be in town. I was surprised when I saw her. In the "kindest" way I can put it, she looked like women who run on every single rally around and fight for justice (nothing wrong with taht, but if you're following me I bet you get what I'm trying to convey). A white girl with Bob Marley braids! Yup, there it is!

She told me she had given up Arabic and no longer wanted to work in a big shipping corporation because that supported big oil and their agenda. She then preached to me about equality and why the left is supreme. Now, I'm pretty straightforward so I asked her, how and why her views changed. She wanted to own 3 cars and be a stay at home mom! She looked outside the window of the coffee shop and saw my parked car.

"Do you see this car?"

I said "Yeah, I see it."

"Whoever drives this car is a right wing egomaniac who doesn't care about the environment and just wants to flaunt their money." (my car is a hybrid you guys!)

"Do you drive?"

"No, I can not afford a license and my family owns only one car. Also, I'm scared of driving. Also, did I tell you I'm running on the elections with the *left wing side*. Will you vote for me? If I make it I'll get 2k per month plus health care benefits."

"That's my car. I was going to ask you, do you want to take the train home or will you ride with me?" I just wanted this meeting to bo over, to tell you the truth.

She came with me.

Wanna know why? Here is my hypothesis (and it ties in with Tony Montana's words):

99% of people give up on their dreams by age 23. In order to make it easier for them and help them soothe the guilt this breeds, they begin to drift to the opposite "side" of the court. Pornstars turn to trad wives. Playboys turn to "faithful" husbands who preach the word of the Lord. Money and power hungry individuals take up boring jobs and blame the rich and the goverment for everything. Men who can not pick up women turn to red pill guys and so on and so forth.

Most people can not handle their darker side. They can not handle their ego and their deepest desires. Now, I'm not telling you to become like Tony Montana, he was consumed by his vices and that's who runs the show. Either you run the show or someone else or something (an addiction) runs it for you.

We see all that often with sex. Body counts, "I can not find a good man/woman" etc. People who can not get what they want hate those that have the GUTS to get it.

If my acquaintance's beliefs are that strong why did she enjoy the drive in the luxury SUV? Why did she then ask me when are we going out again and if I can bring "that" guy friend who runs a tech start up?

Because they are not her beliefs. They are just a cover up. A mask.

We've all seen how happy some people get when a dreamer fails.

So, go one. Fail. You''ll succeed at some point. You're better than those who sit on the sidelines running their mouth.

They would want to be at your shoes. They would want to run free on the court.

Own that. Own yourself and run after your goals and desires. Fuck them.

#level up journey #self education #seduction #self love #philosophy #psychology #dark psychology #48 laws of power #robert greene #dark femininity #dark feminine aesthetic #dark feminine energy #femme fatale #personal growth #source: thesirencult #source:thesirencult

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baelpenrose · 3 months

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Alright, action plan for the Left

I keep telling anti-Voting advocates "okay so what's your plan" and they keep asking me, "okay but what's yours" Alright, bet. It exists in three parts.

Phase 1: Apotheosis Denied. Republicans have spent the last 40 years playing a very long game in order to weaken institutions in ways that only benefit them - jerrymandering, weakening institutions at state and local levels, and seizing supreme court, in order to make something like Project 2025 a reality, but it has also led to a critical fracturing of their party. At this point, they are making one desperate gambit to seize power, and if it fails, they will have a critical fracture in their party as the authoritarian wing, now a cult of personality around trump, attempts a second violent coup and is met with the violence of the state and is curbstomped into the dirt. The resulting republican realignment will be frantic, and leave them in a much weaker position - no less fascist, but weaker. Our first step, right now, because we are so far behind, has to be to deny them the apotheosis of their 40 year long game. Phase 2: Parallel Systems. There are multiple components to this one and this is where the government is going to get a little more concerned. This can start NOW, and should start NOW, but continue in tandem with phase 3. Phase 2.1: United Labor - Join the IWW. Join a union. Look into unionizing your workplace. Regardless of how small a difference you think it makes, increasing the power of labor decreases corporate power, full stop.

Phase 2.2: Mutual Aid: Set aside a certain percentage of your income each month - doesn’t have to be a lot, but just a certain amount, that you can budget for each month for helping your community. Make helping other people part of the budget. Creating this simple system, if enough people do it, will limit the reliance on corporate and state control. Do not exceed this - you will expend your resources and wind up needing to rely on others and then overdraw. Keep it to within what you can give. Further, budget a certain amount of TIME each week to doing something that serves your community (see below as well) and getting to know them.

Phase 2.3: Community Networking: Engage with your community in real life, outside. Set aside a certain amount of time each week to do this. If it’s working with underprivileged kids or providing childcare, taking care of the elderly, etc. You can go to a sewing circle and start talking to the people there and bring salvaged clothing that you repair and donate and talk them into doing something similar. Work your hobbies into it! Can you sew? Knit? Scarves and ponchos are never a bad thing, and you can show people how to do it - or swap labor for something you need.. Can you do carpentry? Repair furniture for people who need it, and odds are you can give lessons to people for free and put on a workshop - or swap labor for things you need. Start building these networks in your community. Also, anyone who has a yard? Start looking towards native food-bearing plants. If you’re rural, look into ethical hunting and community cookouts. Kill feral pigs, especially. There’s a shit ton of them, they’re invasive, and they’re tasty, and a cookout of them will bring people together.

Phase 2.4: Community Accountability/Mentoring. Do you have problems in the community with crime? Kids being assholes? Have you considered, rather than calling the cops, giving the kids something to do so they aren’t shitheels? Hooking them up with mentors who can give them skills or help them explore their passions? Providing programs with volunteering? Get involved at your school as well, or form a parent group for it, this will help reduce how many of your kids wind up in the school to prison pipeline.

Phase 2.5: Community Defense: Arm. Odds are you have at least a few disaffected veterans in the community who know the government screwed them and their families who are willing to train you to defend yourselves and who will be happy to be asked to do so - and easy enough to radicalize if they spend time with other people the state is fucking over. It doesn’t have to be everyone in the community, but realistically, you should have at least a few able-bodied people with guns from every community who are practicing with firearms and tactics to protect their community from the fascists as things escalate. This will allow considerably better protection in the event of a shooting or similar. Phase 2.6: Community Assets: Every community should develop a battery of people who can provide at least some degree of help in a variety of situations. Become trained in first aid, CPR, etc. You won't be as good as a doctor, but you can still help. Have a community garden or three. Develop a neighborhood mechanic. Develop a neighborhood seamstress or carpenter if you know one. Trade services. Watch each other's kids.

Phase 3: Electoral Counterstroke This phase exists in two parts: Phase 3.1: Divide and Conquer: Further hasten the crumbling of the republican party. While it realigns, it will do so into a number of factions, the one most likely to win is the authoritarian, christian, culture war, racist wing. You have the ability, if you approach gun nuts and "small government" conservatives (which still exist in many areas of the country) to discuss with them their options. They will NEVER vote democrat or green or left - and they will never be leftists. BUT. They will be easy to convince to splinter from fascism and join a right-wing Libertarian party. They won't be on our side, but their defection from the fascists serves us still in that it splits a right wing further and makes a divided left much less of a gamble.

Phase 3.2: Left Surge Okay, so flat out? This year, Jasmine Sherman is not a viable candidate. They should be, by all rights, but they are not. This is partially due to ballot access tampering, but also partially because far-left candidates have a bad habit of starting their homework five minutes before class starts and then wondering why they don't get a good grade. We have four years to figure out how to get them ballot access in all 50 states, and we need to accomplish that goal, and ensure that they actually are on the ballot in all 50 states in 2028. A vote for them in 2024 is wasted, a vote for them in 2028 should not be unless we've all fucked up to a ridiculous degree. (Yes, I know they have it in 48 states. One of the two where they DON'T because both the democrats and the green party bent over backwards to stop them is CALIFORNIA. You know, the state that no left-wing candidate can win without because of our whopping 55 electoral votes. I mean it when I say they need it in all 50. We can get them there by 2028 if we aren't stupid.)

Further, your local elections should be contested. That public defender who tries to keep juvenile offenders out of jail? Push him to run as a judge and rally as much support as possible. Push left wing retired teachers to run for school board and help them run their campaigns. Push librarians who have lost their libraries to right wing culture war nonsense to run for school board. Politics is local and controlling local power controls most of the governing.

In the senate races, the party machines in almost every state have a lock, so what you're going to do is vote the farthest left democrat you can, consistently, and force the dems to move towards us. This will damage the republican obstruction capacity and begin hijacking the democratic party and make us a block the dems MUST appease.

In the House, you vote radicals, and try to encourage other radicals to run. Where possible, vote green or left-wing third party, where not, repeat the strategy in the Senate.

For state legislature, there's more play for independents - check your state races, these vary a lot more, and to be honest I am much, much more aware of my own state's political machinery than I am aware of anyone else's to the point that any advice I gave on this point would really only be relevant to CA.

There you go, actionable, intelligent planning for the next decade of how the left can effectively sieze power and specific things YOU can do to make the situation better.

#leftism #direct action #electoral action #jasmine sherman #third party #anarchism #antifascist #political action #effective action #us politics #american politics

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rahuratna · 20 days

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Synopsis: Fat Gum (Taishiro Toyomitsu) x Fem Reader

As a crime journalist with a chequered past, you find yourself re-located to Esuha City through no choice of your own. Working alongside pro-hero Fat Gum, each new case exposes more of the dark underbelly of the city, and what it truly means to be a hero.

Genres: Suspense, mystery, romance, humour.

Rating: M

Warnings: Violence, substance abuse, adult themes, explicit sexual content in later chapters.

Cross-posted from Ao3.

Title from: "Era Vulgaris" lyrics, by Queens of the Stone Age.

Divider by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

It was time.

Your belongings all fitted into a small cardboard box, a foot each way in length and width. First, the framed pictures and accolades that sat around your desk in the tiny, crowded cubicle. Then the other personal items, including the stationery, coffee mug, journal and numerous blank spiral-bound notepads.

In went the small basket of plastic flowers gifted to you by Mrs Honda. They had never been to your taste, even before they faded, but you'd treasured them since she'd handed them over to you after that last appearance in court.

Packing was complete in a depressingly short time. The books stacked waist high against the walls of your cubicle, the archives you'd spent many sleepless nights poring over, the rows of files piled on flimsy bracketed shelving, bowing slightly under their weight, would not be leaving this office with you. You'd signed a non-compete to avoid any issues if a rival news group employed you, and all of this would have to remain.

Not that you had much hope of that happening. Your new posting was in downtown Esuha City, at a small local tabloid, the only kind that would currently employ you.

Once your box was packed with its meager contents, you paused, taking in the cubicle you'd spent the last six years ensconced in, eating cheap, steaming cup ramen, the tinny radio from across the hall on full blast for the evening news, peeling off your wet coat and socks after hours spent standing in pouring rain at some event or other.

This was where your career had been made. This was where it had ended.

All right, so you were entitled to a dramatic flourish, considering your circumstances. Technically, your career wasn't over.

You picked up the box with an air of finality, shrugging away your procrastination of the inevitable. There was still that long walk to the train station to endure, through the halls, past the cubicles and offices of the people you'd worked alongside for years.

A walk of endurance.

You could take doors slamming against the prod of your questioning, the roughhousing of other journalists as you waited outside the scene of a crime, fingers numb with cold. You could withstand a shower of flying spittle as some corporate bigshot screamed into your face, apoplectic with rage. You had even learned to stand silent witness to grief, despair and unimaginable violence.

This, on the other hand, was different. Their stares weren't even disapproving, or angry. Just pitying.

Your pace increased, and even though the box you carried was shockingly light, your breathing was laboured by the time you reached the front doors.

"Reporting for duty, Fat Gum!"

"Nice and early, Kirishima. Good on ya."

Tamaki glanced between the two manifestations of pure sunshine that, unfortunately, made up the rest of his team. His shoulders came up defensively.

"I thought today was going to be admin. Can't you leave me here in the office to handle things?"

Fat Gum's large hand steered Tamaki out the door, and right out of that particular delusion.

"Come on. What have I told you about practicing your 'helping people' face?"

"I've never possessed such a face."

Kirishima slapped an open palm against his chest and flashed a confident grin.

"Like this! See? It's easy."

Tamaki shook his head woefully.

"I can't help it. I look nervous all the time and my smile comes out wrong and I scare people. Or make them feel sorry for me."

Fat Gum stroked his chin in apparent thoughtfulness.

"Guess you're right about that. You do look scared a lot. Need to work on that, 'fore we let you out into the streets again, huh?"

Tamaki's mouth fell open, and he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Fat Gum's face.

"Are you for real? I can actually stay here at the agency and ... "

He received a good-natured, if callous, belly laugh from the BMI hero.

"Nah, just kidding. You're going on patrol with us. Ain'tcha a lucky guy?"

Tamaki retreated into hopelessness once again. For two kind and cheerful heroes, Fat Gum and Kirishima seemed to take some sort of special pleasure in tormenting him. He'd just have to endure.

As they made their way out into the chilly street, Tanaki considered his unique position at Fat Gum's Agency. As much as he still needed to work on himself, he knew, on some level, that he'd made large strides since he'd started his studies here.

His internship had been a success, if harrowing in its social nature. Attached to a hero like Fat Gum, there was no bypassing any form of public interaction, as Tamaki had successfully done in the past. Taishiro Toyomitsu was a 'tender tank' indeed, warm, effusive, generous, always ready with a quick snack and words of encouragement or support, but he didn't hold Tamaki's hand either. There was a rough, tough, independent streak to the man, one that didn't brook wallowing in weakness or accepting one's flaws as part of nature.

He'd made it clear to Tamaki that he'd expect him to improve as a hero, because heroes weren't perfect beings that sprang fully formed into the public eye. They had to actively work on themselves, much harder than the people they protected on a daily basis. Fat Gum himself had steadily climbed the ranks through sheer incremental labour, gaining the trust of the community he had grown up in, effectively working alongside other heroes that people could consider to be far more powerful than he was.

Tamaki raised his head slightly when he realized that Fat Gum was speaking again, words slightly muffled as he popped the steaming taiyaki he'd bought from a street vendor into his mouth.

" ... and there'll be new deliveries coming in for Okita Groceries. Gotta keep an eye on that later. Clover Fields Nursery is also holding a fundraiser some time this morning. Traffic might be a problem if they're taking up the corner across from Gijima Group Building. Hmm. Let's see. Oh, I got a message from Tachibana at Esuha Shimbun. They're getting a new employee today. Someone he wants to talk to me about. I gotta stop by there too."

Kirishima was nodding along earnestly to the listing.

"Where should we go first?"

Fat Gum raised a burly fist, pausing in thought before swinging his arm out towards the south-west district that was crowded with various business enterprises and office blocks.

"The newspaper building. Tachibana gets there pretty early. Let's see what he has to say."

Esuha Shimbun was small and focused enough to be classified a tabloid, but its reputation as a long-established and trustworthy news source for the locals made it worth its salt. Tachibana had been the assistant editor for many years now, his own roots in the community providing him with a network of information (and imformants) that often proved very useful to Fat Gum.

The building was an unremarkable light grey, the sign for the newspaper headquarters half hidden in a shadowed entryway. Tamaki spotted the short, bespectacled man outside, waiting for their approach. He frowned. Tachibana only met them out here when he wanted to pass along confidential information.

Fat Gum raised a hand in greeting as the assistant editor spotted them and hurried over. Tachibana started speaking as soon as they were within earshot, his rapid-fire delivery jumbled and nervous.

"Oh, there you are. She's due any time now. Apparently she took the first train out and she's going to - "

"Hey now, hold on."

Fat Gum raised a quelling palm.

"Who's 'she' and what's got your head in such spin?"

Tachibana took a small, bracing breath before adjusting his glasses.

"The new columnist, that's who. She's going to be here soon."

"And that's who you wanted to tell me about?"

"Well ... yes. Her. She specializes in crime writing. But ... you see ... she's been involved in reporting on certain types of cases. That's what I wanted you to know about. There was a big court case surrounding that last one. It's the reason she's been transferred here. One of our sponsors also invests in a big Tokyo newspaper where she used to work."

Fat Gum scratched his chin lightly, frowning.

"Sounds like a lotta words for a simple warning, Tachibana. What exactly do you want me to know?"

"Some of the cases she covered don't exactly put heroes ... in the best light. It's why nobody in the big cities wants to employ her anymore. That court case she was involved in was a good example. The hero didn't come out of it looking great at all. One could say ... his career pretty much went downhill from there. So listen."

Tachibana leaned in urgently, voice lowering even further.

"I had no say in her ending up here. Just ... watch your back, okay? Be extra careful with how you handle cases from now on."

Fat Gum reacted exactly the way Tamaki expected him to. He chuckled, fishing a now slightly cold taiyaki from the paper carton he carried.

"That's it?"

Tachibana let out a frustrated huff.

"I knew you wouldn't take this seriously enough. Just ... just be careful. And don't say I didn't warn you."

"Warn him about what?"

A distinct feminine voice, calm and crisp, sounded from behind them. Tamaki froze before turning slowly. Tachibana's complexion had lost a little of its ruddiness.

It looked like the subject of their conversation had turned up at a most ... inopportune time.

You'd done your research on the area, of course. Which was the reason you'd known about him; BMI hero, Fat Gum. Seeing him in person was ... certainly something, though. You'd seen pictures of him, but nothing had prepared you for how tall he was in his current form.

He towered over the two youngsters who were, presumably, his interns or sidekicks, and definitely dwarfed the diminutive assistant editor who was now looking at you as if you'd donned a tengu mask and danced threateningly in front of him holding a spear.

Your eyes met Fat Gum's, the large, tawny-gold irises surrounded by the black material of his mask, disconcerting in their wide, frank appraisal. He grinned and the lengthening of his sizeable mouth heralded a low rumble that then pitched forward seamlessly into a full throated laugh. His belly heaved and he slapped Tachibana's shoulder so hard the smaller man stumbled forward. Fat Gum wiped a tear of mirth away from his eye, completely oblivious, it seemed, to the tension that had permeated the air.

"Now this'll make a funny story."

He waved to you, large hand encased in a worn, red glove of sturdy material.

"Hiya. You must be the new columnist."

You nodded slowly before approaching.

"I am. But are introductions really in order? It seems Mister Tachibana was doing a good enough job before I came along."

The assistant editor sputtered.

"Now, I meant no harm. You have to understand - "

"Ya, he was telling me watch my back 'round you, missy," Fat Gum chirped cheerfully.

One of the sidekicks, a dark-haired boy, moaned slightly before covering his face. The other boy flashed a sharp row of teeth in an amused grin. Fat Gum continued undeterred, now munching on a stick of pocky he had pulled from God-knows-where.

"That ain't gonna change how I work, obviously. You're welcome over at my agency any time! Come see how we do things. Get to know the town. You're gonna need to be familiar with stuff if you wanna get in on the good stories, ya know?"

So saying, he handed you a stick of pocky. You took it. You weren't sure you had a choice in the matter. Fat Gum offered a small salute and a "See ya!" before turning his portly form towards the main road and ambling off, trailing his sidekicks in his sizeable wake.

Tachibana mumbled some half-hearted apology before hurrying into the building, leaving you standing on the street with your satchel slung over your shoulder.

Well.

That was certainly one way to start your first day at work. Your patchy history with pro-heroes had followed you all the way out here, it seemed. Not that you expected any different. This hero, Fat Gum, seemed genuinely unconcerned though.

Raising the stick of pocky to your mouth thoughtfully, you took a bite.

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soaps-mohawk · 7 months

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your fix has inspired so many thoughts in my head omg- what would the boys be like if reader started making friends on base. talking with the other betas (reader would probably stay clear of the alphas but betas maybe). one day they’re eating lunch and this other beta /alpha just comes up to reader and reader t a l k s to them. maybe even smelling a little like their new friend since they’ve been hanging with them whenever 141 isn’t there 👀👀

The way those boys would get so defensive at first. They're used to the stares, the whispers. They're the God Damn 141, of course they get looked at when they pass by. But when reader's with them? Whole other story. They'd all be bristling, hackles up. Like who the hell would have the audacity to approach them and their omega so openly?

But then reader's just chill, greeting this Corporal by name and the confusion sets in. They'd share looks, maybe a whispered "what the fuck?" They'd be a little on edge because this Corporal hasn't even glanced their way, totally focused on their omega.

When the Corporal walks away, all eyes are on the reader. They all want to know.

Reader just shrugs. "Oh, that's my new friend."

Friend? You have been busy while they were gone. They're immediately doing background checks on this beta Corporal, looking at every little detail available to them. Nothing of significance pops out. Cue the spontaneous interrogation training, starting with this beta Corporal.

Nothing. Just some cheeky beta that's a little too friendly, but hey, so is Soap.

Maybe they are just a friend.

#this got away from me #but the way theyd be so protective instantly #answered #crcb lore

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icestarphoenix · 29 days

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geez isp, second fandom you actively participate in and you already made another power system

i really liked the hc’s and explanations for some of the boxers’ more inhuman feats. while it could be boiled down to cartoon logic, the brain tinglies really got me goin on the ideas train and now i have a magic system

Edit: now with a part 2 :D

Punch Out: Worldbuilding and Magic

Every human intrinsically has the ability to manipulate magic, which is a force that can alter reality. People either don’t know how to use it, use it without knowing, or train to be able to harness it. Some have a natural talent or potential for magic while others don’t.

It’s difficult for the boxers to directly affect their opponents with magic during a match. Them being guarded and wary also guards against outside magical influence. For example, Great Tiger’s clones are corporeal and capable of touching physical objects. Although, during a fight, magic from his opponent interferes with his clones and causes them to pass right through. Very focused magic, however, may be able to break through someone’s defenses. It just wouldn’t happen in a boxing match with the need to focus on the physical fight itself.

Below the cut are the specific ways some boxers perform magic and/or some tidbits about them. This isn’t the definitive list of magic users, just the ones I thought of with more interesting ideas.

Glass Joe, with all his fights, subsequent losses, and age, should really have more lasting injuries than he does. It’s his tenacity that made his unconscious use of magic heal his body at a much faster rate than normal. Joe’s not any more resistant to pain or injury, oh no, just that he can fully recover from physical traumas more severe than others can handle.

Piston Hondo uses meditation to simultaneously hone his focus and his magic. His ability to keep up with the Shinkansen on foot is from hyperfocusing on his magic. While in a match, he of course cannot reach that level of speed, but meditating and rigorous training let him get closer and closer to doing so.

Bear Hugger’s ability to understand and communicate with animals originates from magic, but he chalks it up to animal magnetism and just being really empathetic.

Great Tiger has trained all his life in using magic, and as such he has the most versatility and best control over it. He is an example of what an expert magic user is capable of.

Don Flamenco has a naturally poor aptitude for magic, but he uses what he can mainly to make plant life prettier. His use of magic sustains and even lets flowers flourish, brightening their colors, strengthening their smells, making them bloom, etc.

The cut roses he has on hand are real flowers, and despite carrying the same ones around for weeks, they are still alive, healthy, and maintain their strong scent with his magic.

The strength of his magic also heavily depends on his emotional state. Confidence will boost it to the point where he can uppercut a bull into the sky. Shattering this confidence will weaken his magic and he becomes unable to sustain even a single flower.

Aran Ryan doesn’t think he’s any good with magic and sees himself as just particularly lucky. However, he is actually unconsciously using magic to subtly alter reality around him to his favor. He just believes he has the “Luck of the Irish” on his side.

Soda Popinski’s abnormally high magical potential from a young age caught the attention of scientists who began experiments with him to bring out this latent talent.

Ironically, all the treatments and sugar-coated medications Soda’s taken over the years has dampened his ability to perform magic normally.

Instead, that potential starts to come out when his body is processing large amounts of sugar. Soda’s extremely fast metabolism quickly burns away the glucose and gives him magically enhanced vitality and physical abilities.

The experimental serum Soda took in his TD match overclocked his magic use past what his body and mind should handle, and all the bottles he drank made it so he was very much not okay after the match was over. He took several weeks to recover.

He had the potential to become an even stronger magic user than Great Tiger. Soda doesn’t realize this since he never learned how to harness it like Tiger does.

Bald Bull makes an effort to not use magic, as he blames his constant hounding by the press on a potential unconscious use of magic attracting them to him. All his physical feats are completely natural.

In fact, his disdain for using magic is so strong that, when in a rage, his unconscious use of it nullifies other people’s ability to perform magic. As such, matches with Bull are determined purely by technique, skill, and raw physical ability.

If Bull is calmer, then magic use around him only weakens rather than nullifies.

Great Tiger realized this very quickly when he was floating by Bull and then unexpectedly face-planted onto the ground.

#punch out #punch out wii #punch out!!#headcanons #glass joe #piston hondo #bear hugger #great tiger #don flamenco #aran ryan #soda popinski #bald bull

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justmeinadaze · 2 years

Note

I had any Eddie fic idea please let me know if you’re not interested in writing it. But I was thinking Eddie survived the upside down, but he’s not the most “liked” person in town so he doesn’t go out much and he was able to get a job, it’s nights. He’s a janitor at an office — where reader works— one day she stays late and that’s the first time she meets him and she thinks he’s sweet so she maybe gets him something from the vending and leaves a cute note for him on her desk, she starts staying late at work more often to see him. Maybe smutty ❤️

A/N: I couldn't not be smutty :P

I'm going to add a warning here this does pull from things from the show. I did allow for Eddie's presumed PTSD of everything he went through pull through. If you've ever been through a rough experience you know what that's like so <3

Word Count: 3601

##############

Eddie threw his finished cigarette out of his van towards the empty parking lot of the office building he worked at. 86 was shaping up to be an exhausting year for him. When Steve and Dustin pulled him back through the gate and out of the upside down, they genuinely thought he might die. He was in the hospital for over two weeks in and out of consciousness until they started seeing any real improvement. During that time, the gang did everything could to clear Eddie’s name and legally they had succeed but not within the court of public opinion.

Hawkins was still ruthless with the name calling and bulling. It had gotten to the point where he barely ever left the new trailer those “government people” got for him and his uncle.

“Eddie,” Wayne’s eyes glanced over his nephew with concern. “You can’t just hide out in here. You were given a second chance. Go live your life, Kid.”

Eddie’s bottom lip trembled as he looked up at his uncle. “I want to but… Wayne, either they’re still afraid of me or they hate me because they think I got away with murder.”

Wayne sighs, knowing what Eddie was saying was true and feeling helpless at not being able to help. “I know. What about, maybe, finding a part time job. Something you can work at night like me. It doesn’t have to be permanent. Just until you get enough money saved up.”

So that’s what Eddie did. It took him ages to find a place that would actually hire him. The corporate offices downtown were looking for a new night janitor and he had to beg them to give him a chance.

“No funny business or the else you’re out of here, son! Just keep your head down and do your job.”

He couldn’t complain. Eddie was getting paid, out of the house, and since he worked at night no one was around to harass him. Flashing his name badge against the door he entered through the side. After clocking in he casually changed his clothes and started the routine he had been trained to do. Tonight would be his first night fully alone and he was ready, shoving his Walkman in his pocket and placing his headphones on his head.

By around 10pm he had finished most of his tasks. He was lost in his thoughts, listening to the sound of Dio playing his ears as he mopped the floor below him. A figure suddenly came into view, making him jump, and hold up his fists in defense.

“Whoa! Hey! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you!” Eddie pulled his headphones down around his neck as he grabbed his chest, trying to regulate his breathing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

His head finally lifted, meeting your worried gaze.

“I’m…yeah, I’m okay. I just…no one else is supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, I’m working late on something for my boss. I got hungry so,” you wave your dollar in front of him and point to the vending machine. “I know you’re mopping so I didn’t want to mess up your hard work. Thought I would wait for you to finish.”

“Oh, um, no please. Go ahead and do what you need to do.”

When you smile at him, Eddie feels his heartbeat faster again. It had been so long since a stranger smiled at him. You started tiptoeing in your heels across the floor, trying not get the floor dirty again. You feel the floor abruptly slide out from under you as you slip and start to fall sideways.

Eddie quickly reaches forward, catching you in his arms. You chuckle as he sets you upright and you grip on to his hand trying to steady yourself.

“Thank you! I swear I can walk.” He grins down at you. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“I do. No one usually wants to talk to me though.”

“Why is that?” You look through the machine, debating on what to get.

“Um, you’re not from here I’m guessing.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because then you would know who I am.” You turn to look at him, quizzically.

“I am from here. I don’t pander to the idle gossip of this community though. Everyone gets riled up over nothing.” Sighing, you put your money in and push some of the buttons, watching as a bag of chips fall. “Geez, I mean, I remember a few months ago, my mom saying something about people getting pissed about that fantasy game. What is called?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.” Eddie steps a little closer to you.

“Yes! I’m not good at any of that stuff but to say it leads to murder?” You roll your eyes as you smile at him. “Do you want something?”

He shakes his head as if waking up from a dream. “Oh, no. I’m good. Thank you.”

“No problem. If you change your mind let me know. I’m over there.” You point towards your office. “I’m Y/N.”

“Eddie.” He watches your face for any recognition of his history but your grin grows as you reach out to shake his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Eddie.”

He sneaks glances at you while you work. You were about his age but he couldn’t remember ever seeing you before. The way you moved around your office was memorizing to him. You were so beautiful and sweet. He wanted to talk to you more but part of him was so terrified. The last girl he was attracted to was killed right in front of him.

The sound of you putting on your jacket and gathering your things brought him back to the present. After you leave, he enters your office with the intent of cleaning it. Something on your desk, though, caught his eye. On a sticky note, attached to a bag of chips, was his name with a note underneath.

Eddie,

I’m sorry for scaring you. I hope this makes up for it :)

Don’t let the people in this town affect you. You seem

like a nice guy who deserves to be happy.

-Y/N

He couldn’t stop thinking about you through the rest of shift. As the sun started to rise, he hurriedly headed downstairs to change back into his street clothes. Eddie stands behind the door, listening in as the employees slowly start filling in for their workday. He waits for silence before finally opening the door, preparing to book it to his van without being seen.

He turns, bumping into something small. “Shit! Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

You giggle, adjusting the items in your hands. “No. No don’t even worry. We’ll call it karma for me scaring you last night.” His grin is soft as he looks down at you, his eyes scanning over your beautiful face, making you blush. “Eddie, do you maybe want to have breakfast with me? I can’t eat all this by myself.” You hold up a bag of food from one of the shops in town.

For a moment, he forgot where he was. The fears and anxieties of the past few months were erased when you smiled up at him. “Um, sure. I could eat.”

“Yay! We can go eat in my office. I don’t know if you like—”

A couple of your coworkers come through the front door. One of the men stops, shoulder checking Eddie, as he loops around him to the other side of you both.

“Hey Munson! Didn’t know our company hires murders now.”

Eddie’s gaze shifts to the floor hoping to avoid any further confrontation. He can’t afford to lose this job.

“Is there a problem here?” Your tone is sharp as you address the men surrounding you.

“Y/N, you need to be more careful who you talk to.”

“I think I can figure out who I should or should not be talking to, Carter.”

“Oh, so you don’t mind talking to a killer then?”

Your hand reaches out to grab Eddie’s arm but he flinches slightly, pulling it back. “Eddie, come on, let’s go to my office.”

“Pfft, he’s not taking one more step. Trust me, Y/n. You’ll thank me.”

Carter grips your arm pulling you away from Eddie as one of the other boys start pushing him out the door. He watches as you try and tug out of the man’s grasp. Something ignites inside of him as he shoves your coworker to the side and marches up right in Carter’s face.

“You have a problem with me, you come at me. Get your hands off of her.”

Carter lets you go as he takes a step forward bumping Eddie’s chest with his own. “You couldn’t keep your hands off Chrissy Cunningham. Unfortunately, she isn’t here to defend herself, is she?”

Upon hearing her name, images of that night flashed through his mind. Chrissy standing in the living room of his trailer with that vacant expression. Her eyes gray and unresponsive as he tried to wake her up. The lights flicking as her body levitated toward the ceiling and he bones snapping before she fell back to the ground.

Eddie’s eyes flick to yours before angrily glaring back at the man in front of him. He turns on his heels and hastily leaves out the front door. Halfway to his van he hears your voice behind him but he doesn’t stop.

“Eddie! Eddie, wait!”

“They’re right, Y/N. You should stay away from me.”

He starts to open his driver side door but you put yourself between it, blocking him from getting inside. “Why? Because of what they say? Fuck them.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t even know me.”

“I know you’re not a killer.”

“Move.”

“No.” Eddie stepped right up in your personal space, looking down at you with what he hoped was an intimating stare. Your eyes penetrated his. “Did you kill that girl?”

His eye lids flutter slightly, trying to block the images from replaying again. “No.”

“Have you ever physically hurt anyone?”

“No.”

Your hand rises and grazes his cheek. “I believe you.” You step to the side and Eddie climbs in, pausing before turning the key in the ignition. “I’d understand if you didn’t come back but I hope you do.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

The van comes to life and he shifts the gear in drive. “For believing me.”

##############

Eddie debated on it heavily that night but decided he could go back to work. In the upside down, he told himself he was done running and he meant it. Even though he was utterly terrified and slightly angry, he went to his shift and went about his nightly tasks.

When he got to your floor, he saw the light on in your office. Eddie left his cart and quietly made his way towards you. Your eyes were focused as they scanned the work in front of you. When he saw you this morning your hair was pulled up in a tight bun but now it was untied and flowing your shoulders. The blazer jacket you had on was on the chair behind you and your sleeves were pushed up to your elbows.

He gently knocked on your door and your eyes lit up when you saw him standing in the doorframe.

“Hey Eddie.”

“Hey. Are you okay?” He points towards your desk.

You stretch as you lean back in your chair. “Yeah, just exhausted. This is supposed to be really important and I don’t want to fuck it up. Being a woman in an office setting isn’t the easiest thing and I want to show them that anything they can do I can do to but better.”

He smiles at you, marveling at your confident, strong attitude.

“Since we didn’t get to have breakfast…” You point to the Chinese food near the corner. “Do you want to share with me? I ordered it but I haven’t actually stopped to eat it.”

Eddie sits in the chair in front of your desk and you both share your dinner. You talk back and forth about things in your lives. He purposely omits a lot of details especially from the last few months but you don’t seem to push which he appreciates.

“This morning I saw you had on a Black Sabbath shirt. Is that your favorite band?”

“Oh, I mean I have a lot of favorites but they are definitely up there. I also like Dio, Iron Maiden, Metallica.”

“I love Metallica! Have you heard that new song off of their new album ‘Master of Puppets’? They’re guitar work is amazing. I love it.” You giggle but stop when you notice Eddie freeze. “Eddie?”

His eyes stare through the void remembering the night he played that song to distract the bats so the gang could defeat Vecna; the night he almost died. Eddie didn’t hear or even notice you had come around to kneel in front of him, placing your hands on his knees.

“Eddie? What’s going on?” A single tear slides down his eye and reach up with your thumb to wipe it away. He suddenly blinks as if your kindness has brought him back to Earth.

“Yeah. That’s a pretty good song. I can play it you know.” He chuckles to himself as he leans back trying to pretend nothing had happened but you won’t let him this time.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to but you don’t have to hide your feelings. Even though I believe you didn’t commit those murders I know something happened. You can trust me.”

“Can I show you something?” You nod your head. “You can’t ask me questions and I can’t tell you a lot about what I’m going to show you.”

“Okay…”

“I’m serious, Y/N.”

“Eddie, I promise.”

You stand up and lean your back against your desk as Eddie rises, moving about the room, closing your office door even though you two were alone.

He places himself in front of you as he begins unbuttoning his janitorial uniform shirt and pulls off his plain black shirt underneath, tossing them on the chair behind him. Eddie watches your eyes widen and take in the sight before you. He had so many scars that looked like bite marks along his sides and stomach. You fingers reached up to touch them causing him to jump.

“I’m sorry. Do they…do they still hurt?”

“Not really. It’s just…no one has touched this part of my body since my hospital stay.”

Since he brought it up you felt safe to ask, “How long were in the hospital?”

“A little over a month. I was in and out for about two weeks and then when I finally started getting better…”

“What else are you allowed to tell me?”, you whisper as your mind runs through every possibility of what could have happened to him.

“I was protecting people I loved. I couldn’t save Chrissy but I could help them.”

Your hands reach for his stomach again and this time he doesn’t flinch. “Now I feel even worse for startling you.”

Eddie’s tummy shakes as he laughs. He hasn’t genuinely smiled in a long time. “It’s ok. I’d rather it be you coming out of the darkness than anything else.”

Your wrap your arms around him resting your head on his warm chest. “I’m sorry you went through that. I can’t imagine how it feels having these assholes make you relive that pain.”

His arms circle behind your shoulders as he places his chin on top of your head. “It sucks but I do have my friends, my uncle, and now I have you who believe me. I try to focus on that.”

You lean back, looking up into his beautiful brown, chocolate eyes. “Can I—”

“I said no questions.” Eddie flashes you small smile.

“Okay, no questions.” You snake your hand around his neck and pull his lips to yours.

His own hands release you, completely thrown of guard. After a few seconds, his lips slowly began reciprocating. You pull back slightly, hovering over his lips.

“Eddie, it’s ok. I trust you.”

A shaky breath escapes his mouth as he connects it back to yours with new found confidence. His hands reach for the back of your thighs as he lifts you fully onto your desk. He found home between your legs as he clothed cock grinded against your panty covered core making you moan into his lips.

Eddie’s mouth trails down your cheek to your neck as he reaches up into your skirt to pull your underwear down to your ankles. He leaned back to watch you pull at his belt and reach into his boxers to pull out his dick.

“Oh wow.” You moaned as you began pumping his length with your hand.

“Can you—”

“I think so.”, you whisper against his lips. Reaching for his hand, you guide his fingers up your thigh to you’re the outside of your folds. “You tell me.”

You whimper as his glides two of his digits inside your pussy lips. His lust blown eyes lock with yours as you nod, encouraging him.

Your cling to his shoulders, opening your legs wider as you watch him stroke your slick on his fingers on to his cock before positioning it outside of your entrance. Eddie growls as he breaches your hole, sliding in easily. His head falls to your shoulders as he begins thrusting carefully into you.

“Eddie, oh my god.” His cock twitches inside of you making you smile.

He tips his head to find your lips as he finally bottoms out. “I like the way you talk to me.”

You tenderly push his hair back from his face as he starts pumping into you at a steady pace. “You like the way I talk to you, baby? What do you need to hear?”

Eddie doesn’t respond verbally but his hands reach down to wrap your legs around his waist, lifting you up and placing you further on the edge of the desk so he can hit a different angle inside of you.

“Fuck, Eddie. Just like that. You feel so good.” One of your arms wraps around his neck while the other reaches back for support on the desk. You mouth hovers over his ear as you continue to murmur to him.

“That’s it, baby. Do I feel good to? With my pussy clinging to you so tightly. I want it to feel good for you. You deserve to feel good after everything you’ve been through.”

At your last sentence, he thrust into you harder making your moan come out more like a little yelp. Eddie pulled his head back to look into your eyes, making sure you were okay. You placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“It’s ok. Don’t stop. It didn’t hurt, I promise. No one,” you lick your bottom lip, “No one has ever been this deep before.”

He watches your face as he mimics the same motion and moans as your eyes roll back and close. Eddie pumps his hips into yours roughly, picking up his pace.

“Jesus. Fuuck.” He feels your cunt grip him as your body shutters against his. You cling to his neck, thrusting your hips up to meet his as you ride out your orgasm.

You lean your forehead against his, smiling with hooded eyes. “Fuck, Eddie. That was fantastic.” Your hips start moving against his again. “I want you to feel like I do. Cum for me, baby. I want to watch you cum.”

He kisses your lips as he thrusts into you, tangling his tongue with yours. Eddie’s movements started to get sloppy and he suddenly pulls out of you, falling back into the chair behind him. You watched as he pumped himself a few more times before he groaned and ropes of his seed shot out, hitting his stomach.

You look around your desk before handing him a tissue. Eddie politely thanks you, cleaning himself off, and reaching to pull up his pants. When he finally looks at you, he is met with your kind smile.

“Are you okay?”

A grin stretches across Eddie’s face. “Yeah. What about you?”

You giggle as you playfully toss your panties at his chest. “I’m ok. Better than ok, actually. Do you want to walk with me to my car?”

Eddie nods, quickly getting dressed as you grab your jacket and the work off your desk. As you ride down the elevator together, you reach over to hold his hand. You take note of the fact that this was the first time you had suddenly touched him and he didn’t flinch.

When you get to your car, he opens the door for you. “Do you work tomorrow?”

“No, I’m only part time so I only work like 3 or 4 days.”

“Oh…then would you, maybe, want to come over and watch a movie or something?”

Eddie smiles as he nods. You dig in your purse for a pen and write your phone number on his hand. You start to get in your car but stop yourself, turning back to him.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to show me this.” You place your palm on the outside of his shirt over one of the scars you know are there. “I know that must have been hard.”

His big hand covers yours as he leans down to kiss your lips. “Thank you for,” he shrugs as he blushes slightly, “being you.”

You laugh as you caress his cheek, giving him one last kiss before heading home.

#eddie munson #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn stranger things #fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #writing requests

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monstrifex-art · 1 year

Text

Malka Bat-Sheva - Original character & short story inspired by the Chainverse series by Maria Ying.

Killing a vampire with your hands is not a simple matter. There are several important steps to the process.

The first step is to understand that you are outmatched. A vampire kills and eats humans. That is its nature, its default state. Every fact of its physiology is bent toward this aim. It is stronger than you, faster than you, and possessing of a hunger that eclipses its fear of death. To match the lowest vampire, a human must train to be strong, to be fast, and to numb themselves to mortal fear. In this sport, hesitation will kill faster than recklessness.

Second, you must craft of yourself an effective weapon. Folklore suggests a dozen dozen anathemas that harm vampires, some of which even work. But there are only two weapons that harm vampires across all bloodlines: sunlight and human hope.

While sunlight can be weaponized by arcane means in hand-to-hand combat, it is a difficult and often fleeting resource to harness. Do so if you are able, but do not rely on it as your only weapon.

Hope is a more dependable asset. Vampires are creatures made of fear. The faith and courage of their prey harms them at a metaphysical level. To this end, religious symbology and artifacts of human belief can be instrumental. I have tattooed myself with the faith of my ancestors, as their religion runs most strongly in my blood. If your ancestry leans toward a particular creed, I suggest you do likewise.

The more eclectic reagents espoused by folklore can be effective against particular vampire bloodlines, often because of the properties granted them by human belief. I take a scattershot approach. I wrap my arms in bandages lined with smoked salt, purified silver wire, various cleansing herbs, and a mix of shredded holy texts. If you know the lineage of your target, you can tailor these ingredients to them. Do your research.

Third, one must force the vampire to remain in corporeal form. There is merit to emotional manipulation in pursuit of this goal– challenging a vampire to physical combat will often amuse them enough to humor your request. But it is an unreliable method best used only when other options are unavailable. In my experience, one is better off relying on magical means of trapping them in their body of meat and bone. Smoked salt disrupts the black mist, drawing them back to physicality. Coat your fists and shins with it. Certain charms and benedictions ward off intangible evils, forcing them to materialize in order to approach you. With these the key is to not only force them to start a fight, but to prevent them from escaping.

Fourth is to unmake them. Know that no human martial art is sufficient to prepare you. Martial arts are designed with defense in mind and honed through the use of sparring. In order to kill a vampire, you will have to perform actions that are impossible to practice without maiming your sparring partner. It is a sad reality that in order to kill vampires with your hands, you must first have killed humans.

Supernaturally augmented though they may be, a vampire still needs eyes to see. Tendons to move. A jaw with which to bite. Your goal is to deny them these resources.

It is not enough to strike your opponent or grapple them into submission. You must ruin them. You must tear muscle fibers, crack joints, snap bones with carefully placed force. Vampires feel pain less intensely than humans, but they will still be stunned if you mangle their flesh. Your attacks must rupture the machinery of their bodies, inflict enough damage that they are unable to tear out your throat and drink your lifeblood. No single martial art can prepare you. Study them all. Use the parts you find effective. Reduce your opponent to a husk of broken meat. Then the killing blow will be trivial.

Fifth, you must eat the vampire’s heart. Mere moments after ruining a vampire’s body, it will begin to repair itself. You must act quickly. Tear the heart from its rib cage and devour it. Take the power it would use to remake itself and channel it into your own flesh. This is the truest defeat of a vampire: to inflict on it what it was born to inflict on you. There is no sweeter triumph for humanity than to dominate the beast at its own game.

Consuming vampires will change you. The magic that strengthens them will fuel your body, but alter your flesh. You will not be human, not in the traditional sense. But you will remain human in the eyes of your prey.

And that is all that matters.

#art #oc art #vampire #monster

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azspot · 5 months

Quote

All systems of totalitarianism, including corporate totalitarianism, deform education into vocational training where students are taught what to think, not how to think. Only the skills and expertise demanded by the corporate state are valued. The withering away of the humanities and transformation of major research universities into corporate and Defense Department vocational schools with their outsized emphasis on science, technology, engineering and math, illustrate this shift. The students who disrupt the Potemkin university, who dare to think for themselves, face beatings, suspension, arrest and expulsion.

The Nation’s Conscience

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fiftysevenacademics · 21 days

Note

oooh prompt time!

wangxian + spaceship

wangxian + wild animal

Thank you! I'm sorry it took so long to write this, but I wanted to do the spaceship one, and it took me a while to get an idea.

Lan Wangji watched Gusu dwindle to a blue, cloudy pearl through the porthole. The Cloud Recesses groaned with its release from the planet’s gravity, then all was quiet, save the whir of his cabin’s ventilation system, just as in previous voyages. Except, this time, it wasn’t as quiet as it should be. Through the wall came thumping bass and the sound of laughter, and a voice he knew all too well.

He pounded the wall with his fist. Nothing happened, so he pounded again, harder. This time, a voice shouted, “Lan Zhan! Come join us!”

“Ridiculous,” Lan Wangji muttered, but he left his room and knocked on the neighboring door.

Wei Wuxian opened the door, shirtless and tanned beneath his unzipped white uniform jacket. He also wore the standard white pants of the Lan uniform, but they might have been a half size too tight and left little to the imagination– not that Lan Wangji was trying to imagine anything, of course, and he looked quickly away.

Nie Huaisang set down the bottle of Emperor’s Smile he was chugging and rushed to the door. He took Lan Wangji’s hands in his own and backed up, pulling the increasingly distressed man with him.

“Lan Wangji! Come in, come in! Let’s have a little fun!”

Lan Wangji pulled away and straightened his own uniform. Nie Huaisang shrugged and twirled in time to the music back to his bottle. Wei Wuxian took a swig from his own bottle then held it up toward the frowning man in front of him, grinding his hips to the music and grinning wide. Lan Wangji pushed it aside.

“You’re such a sourpuss, Lan Zhan! It’s a week before we reach Qishan and until then, we have basically nothing to do. Why not relax a little?”

Wei Wuxian’s breath smelled boozy, and his lips were wet. Lan Wangji’s eyes lingered on his tongue, and the mouth that it lived in, and pushed unwelcome images to the corner of his mind.

“Alcohol is forbidden on missions.”

“Well, I don’t know what Lan Defense Service can do about it if I brought some with me. What are they going to do? Throw me out of a loading bay?”

Lan Wangji’s first run in with Wei Wuxian had come on the second day of training for the mission to stop Emperor Wen’s incursions on the outer moons orbiting Gusu, Yunmeng, and Qinghe. Each of those moons were rich in valuable minerals but were poorly defended. Leaders of these planets depended on a gentleman’s agreement to leave all of a planet’s moons under the control of that planet’s leaders. There had never been a breach of this understanding, until lately, when the Emperor Wen decided these outer moons could be stealthily exploited by Qishan mining corporations.

The ruling families of each planet combined their armed forces under the leadership of General Qiren and the Lan Defense Service, which had state of the art warships, and sent their sons, daughters, and disciples to Gusu to train. Lan Wangji was famous throughout the solar system for his beauty and severity, and was in charge of enforcing discipline and whipping the recruits into shape– literally, if need be.

Wei Wuxian needled him and broke the rules until, unfortunately, Lan Wangji had no alternative but to order him to strip and kneel to receive a caning. He wasn’t the only recruit who earned that treatment, but he was the only one Lan Wangji couldn’t get out of his head.

Something about the way the smooth back muscles slithered under each blow, the hair that clung to his glistening, alabaster skin, and the almost saucy smile he flicked at Lan Wangji when he was barely able to remain on his knees at the end, raised a buzz in his head that he could never entirely silence.

Now, the miscreant had been assigned quarters next to his own, with that useless Nie Huaisang, who was only here because his older brother had basically paid for the position. Lan Wangji could have had a room in the officers’ quarters. As a member of the main Lan lineage, General Qiren, his uncle, said he was entitled to a more comfortable, quieter room, but he refused. He was still in charge of discipline among the crew members, and felt his presence among them might make actual punishment less necessary. Did he regret his decision?

“Wei Ying.” Saying the name sent a surprising thrill down his spine. “I must confiscate the liquor. Hand it to me.”

“Sheesh! OK, OK, keep your pants on,” He winked. “Huaisang, bring yours over here.”

Lan Wangji took both the bottles.

“Seems like a pretty sneaky way for an old Lan fuddy duddy like you to get wasted on the sly,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Refrain from making any more noise and this won’t need to go any further,” Lan Wangji warned. He turned and went back to his room.

He couldn’t stop his pounding heart, or tame the wild beating of his pulse. He slapped himself on the face and picked up his guqin. The guqin was an ancient Chinese instrument that was found to be better defense against a wide range of alien species than most weapons. The Lan Clan had been practicing guqin magic since ancient times and shot to lead Earth’s colonization efforts. Lan Wangji was playing a haunting, mournful melody, when he heard a knock on his door.

“Enter,” he said.

In walked Wei Wuxian, properly dressed for once, with a contrite look on his face.

“What are you playing?” he asked. “I can hear it from next door and it’s beautiful.”

Lan Wangji didn’t say anything. He looked down at his guqin and repeated the melody, while Wei Wuxian sat down next to him, enraptured.

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