#exaustion

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

WT 4: Cattle Prod

Will of the People - dystopian future - directly inspired from Muse's 2022 Album 'Will of the People'. The title is a WIP, but I’m just having fun with a concept for the album.

Summary: On his way into Arena City, Oliver begins to worry about the guards.

Wordcount: 922

Of all things, Oliver was dreading the cattle prods the most. He could handle the heat; the dehydration, and the paranoia that enveloped him the second he stepped across the cemented orange bricks that signified the threshold of the city limits. He could handle the fact that as he traversed the destroyed inner suburbs, he was being watched. Arena City had a circumference that stretched miles - rivalling the long lost London when it was at its greatest - and a perimeter that stretched even further. This was to put eyes on those even daring to near the city walls, forcing them through an intense process via the one road that allowed for direct movement to one of the few liveable places of the country. It functioned as a nuisance for travellers, and an early warning system for potential invasions. 

Oliver's feet barely carried him across the ancient cobbled roads since ruined by oil and debris. His mouth was parched beyond the cracking, sunbleached brick around him, and sweat had since ceased dripping from his forehead. He was running out of time, as was his commune. The People’s District, as they were calling it, relied on him to infiltrate the Arena, and in turn, give them the queue to revolt. If all had gone to plan, their months of preparation getting the word in in the first place would be in place. All he had to do was be the face of a revolution. He only hoped it wasn’t in vain, and the People were having a far better time on their packed trains and intense security than he was traversing miles upon miles of a decemated landscape. 

Fifty degree heat was no joke; not even a giggle as his legs stiffened and his jaw clenched his mouth shut against the dry, stagnant air, as though keeping any remaining moisture in. 

He could be going faster, he knew this, but urgency was overwritten by is hesitance at the fucking cattle prods. Back when he worked for The Man, the prods were a sure-fire way of keeping their cattle in line, and Oliver had been subjected to many unlawful - and frankly unnecessary - uses of it. As a result, the scars on his back itched, and his hands trembled as his jaw tensed beyond the tautness he’d unconsciously kept it at. 

As time passed, and the sun began to set beyond a hazy horizon, the city limits drew into focus. Sandstone walls as thick as ten men with steel doors and a watch consisting of cameras and men slowly morphed into recognition with every painful step. Oliver's only question was why hadn’t they stopped him yet? Was he that unthreatening with the way he swayed and his vision blurred that they’d assumed he’d keel over long before they reached them? Maybe they pictured him collapsing alongside the picked-at bodies he’d seen miles up the road and even further back… he wasn’t sure. The encroaching darkness on his eyes limited all rational thought as his head spun and his knees trembled. 

He blinked once, his eyes dry and stinging with dust as the bandana he'd used on his face had to be used as an impromptu bandage. During yesterday's travel: when scouring old buildings for a stable place to sleep, Oliver was halfway through a broken window when a ceiling tile fell, and startled him through. From the jagged glass, his leg was sliced from knee to ankle, so sacrificing the bandanna as a tourniquet was his best bet at minimizing blood loss, even if it did maximize the chance of an infection. 

Despite his constant movement, the blood had dried as the dust packed the wound where it could. It plastered the fabric of his clothes to his skin, and created an uncomfortable tackiness to his worn boots. 

He blinked once more, willing the black spots to stop swimming across his vision and for his hands to stop shaking. He was successful until the bricks beneath his feet shifted. In the same moment, his knees buckled and he was sure he was dead. 

In hindsight, he wasn’t sure what brought on the early-onset pessimism, but when his head cracked against a rock, he couldn’t help but believe so. 

He awoke to a boot connecting with his injured leg, and a fucking cattle prod to his empty stomach. It was enough to kickstart his heart and resume the tremors in is hands. Ice water followed quickly after - it was a blessing and a curse packaged into a soothing wave hat tore at his blistered skin and open wounds. Still, nothing provoked him to alertness more than he heavily accented: 

“Shock it again.” 

“No!” He jostled, decidedly more alive as his hands tried to find purchase on the jagged rubble. He was rewarded with cut palms and the low, raging late-afternoon sun that took too long to adjust to - all the guards were to him, were blurred shadows. 

“We have a live one.” Said the guard. 

“It’ll make good fodder.” Another agreed. 

“What do you think, boys?” The first said, circling him like a vulture. 

“If he doesn’t want to die, he’ll put up one hell of an entertaining fight for us.”

“All limbs.” Commented a third, caressing Oliver's leg with the barrel of the cattle prod. “It’ll make a great spectacle.”

The first spoke again: “Get the stretcher, A few synthetics and it’ll be good as new. I might even place a few bets.”

“For him?” The second sneered. 

“Hah. Against. Underdogs are always killed by the Demon.”

[ynarroljrm]

tristeza

não é apenas um sentimento, é o estado no qual eu me encontro. queria poder ter uma vida “normal”, sem precisar pagar as contas e ficar contando cada real, cada centavo. talvez eu saiba das minhas condições, mas a ambição sempre falou mais alto em mim. sempre querer o melhor e exigir que se eu penso, eu posso, isso é horrível. viver num looping infinito, de procura pela felicidade e frustrações, por não ter 100%, sempre faltar algo, mesmo ja tendo tudo que eu desejo.

[endless-nightshift]

The mechanics cannot tell me why I am like this.

They tell me, over and over again.

"the diagnostics came back normal.

It's probably just stress, try to manage stress better.

Take Tylenol, Take Advil, heat pack, ice pack.

Eat more, eat better, Drink more, Exercise more, Sleep... Better?

It'll fix itself, just give it time."

Why can't the Mechanics see what I see?

... Why can't they see?

Why can't they see?

See My Bones weighted with Lead,

See My Joints screaming and aching with Rust,

See My Muscles stretched to their limit and fraying with Rot,

See My Skin flaking and melting with Decay,

See My Lungs crack and hiss with burning Fumes,

See My Nerves buzz and scream with Electricity,

See My Stomach heave and churn with oil and Acid,

See My Brain short and spark. Burning in my skull as it spits out nothing but strings upon strings of Meaningless Numbers,

See My Heart beat a tinny rhythm-less song in Stops and Starts,

I Break and Malfunction,

I do not know why.

I cannot rest.

I cannot pause long enough to try and repair.

I do not know what to repair.

So I push..

Push till...?

I Feel nothing.

Till...

I feel everything.

It's fine,

It's not fine

I'm fine,

I'm not fine

The mechanics said I'm fine

So...

I'm fine.

[fanfictasia]

Sicktember Day 29

Lethargy/Exhaustion

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Fading

Everything from last night keeps haunting Anakin, leaving him thoroughly worn, even if he’s been sleeping for hours. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with Obi-Wan, but it’s definitely something. He’s never seen him have nightmares before, and if he has, they certainly never distressed him that much, that Anakin could feel it so keenly.

And through their bond he’d picked up… flashes of something. Things that felt significant somehow, though they made no sense to him. He’d seen a brief flicker of his own face – full of pain and fear – but there was more. An… armored cyborg. And fire. Nothing that made sense.

It feels like he’s missing something major, but he can’t fathom what that could even be.

He hardly has the energy to try and figure it out either, especially not with the guilt eating at him. He’s still sick too, even if maybe it’s getting better. He – he just wants things to change with Obi-Wan, but he doubts that will ever happen. Any caring his former master shows him now is fleeting, as though he quickly remembers how angry he should be with him.

It hurts, even if he deserves it. Even if he – He can’t handle this, though. Not for the indefinite future. Not forever.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks finally, when they’re working through… more of their mechanical madness. They haven’t actually starting arguing yet today, but he’s still reluctant to initiate a conversation.

“What?” It’s that same clipped tone again. Anakin tries and fails to smother the sting.

“How… long have we been here?”

“Several days.”

So, he wasn't unconscious any longer than it seemed. None of this makes sense. “We don’t have unlimited supplies here,” he points out slowly, “We cannot stay in here forever.”

“We can find work in the town once you’re better,” he replies, “You can’t go anywhere right now.”

It’s only a ‘we’ because Obi-Wan doesn’t trust him enough to let him out of his sight. He’s not surprised but it… Everything hurts.

Obi-Wan’s clearly done a lot of thinking on how they’re going to survive here, though. When did he learn so much about Tatooine anyway?

[babyblue-docie]

I haven’t been able to shake this feeling. This feeling of defeat, and sadness in my heart. There’s a burden in my chest and the weight of the world on my shoulders. My enemies are waiting for me to fail, but quitting is to easy. This feeling that I get makes me sleepy, makes me restless. It makes my dreams and goals seem unreachable not possible. Although tonight I’ll sleep and try again the next day if it comes. Tonight I pray for quieter mind, a gentle heart, and peaceful bliss.

[sheikfangirl]

They found each other again ♥

I don't know about you but.... I think that's what happens after Zelda says " I'm home" 😚

[nouverx]

Day 1 and Day 2 of RadioStatic Week

First Meeting and Sharing a meal! I like the idea that Alastor is the one who approached Vox first because of how unique he looks eheh

[binklesgiggles]

Ah fuck

I exist

[murcielago8]

kazutora is my favorite character but i barely draw him 😭

[esmiara]

Sometimes they're annoying, sometimes they're not. A random dump.

[marte-14]

The First's Fury

(I would like to do a complete version of this, but I don't think I have the time, this sketch took like 3/4 hours??? But I have very happy with the result)

Finished version!

[toomanywordsnllines]

Sometimes... the world can be a little too much.

[randals-dump]

Imagine going to bed and snuggling with your F/O. Then wrapping their arms around your torso, face burrowing in your neck while they murmur how warm you are.

[mailb0xbunii]

goodness gracious that's a lot of eggs !!!!

[finitestateai]

I need the ability to plug into a wall socket and charge my battery.

[tinycheesecakedetective]

...I don't want to see another Dark Cacao sprite for a bit. I think I might get angry.

Midnight Cacao Cookie, AKA Dark Cacao has been completed! And he was... An experience. If I consider Baneberry my golden child, Midnight is my problem child. I changed his design around so much before settling on this one, and I'm just glad he's DONE.

Transparent and sprite without fade effect below! No alt. dough color this time.