#go fall down a metaphor for capitalism

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Gwen-haters:

Me: Ayo Peter B. is a horrible person

Gwen-haters:

fuck Peter B. Parker all my Hobies hate Peter B. Parker (not a typo)

[nibeul]

Do you have a link to the spider punk playlist? Tumblr did some weird update and mobile users cant use the audio function anymore

here you go

don't mind the name or the picture, im currently in a lengthy battle with spotify

[id: it's a screenshot of a playlist titled "nibeul v pigs, round 5". The playlist icon is a picture of the twin towers falling. /end id]

[ineffable-suffering]

„It‘s always too late“ (ft. Crowley‘s watch)

I‘m currently on vacation in Greece and, naturally, re-reading Good Omens (the book) for the nth time. And you know what keeps bugging me and has been nagging at my brain ever since S2 dropped?

Crowley‘s line, right after he threatens Jim at the bookshop („If anything happens to Aziraphale because of this–“) which he follows up by saying: „It doesn’t matter. It‘s always too late.“

I cannot tell you just how much this silly line has been festering at some back end corner of my brain. Because what do you mean, „it‘s always too late?“ Too late for what? Has it ever been to late before? To change an outcome? Seemingly not, since they stopped the literal end of the World barely a few years ago. That‘s the most „too late“ definition there is, and they still turned it around so that it wasn‘t. Too late, that is.

So why say this? With such defeat, as well?

I don‘t remember if it‘s series canon, however, in the book, we get this little foot note about Crowley‘s watch:

„This watch gave the time in twenty world capitals and in a capital city in Another Place, where it was always one time, and that was Too Late.“

Knowing Neil, this specific wording resurfacing in S2 cannot be a coincidence. „It was custom made for Crowley“ – by who? I‘d wager that human watch makers certainly couldn’t make a watch that shows a time such as „Too Late“ in „Another Place“.

We know and see Crowley‘s watch in S1.

I think the prop department left out the „Too Late“ bit of it, which is understandable. But it‘s book canon anyway and what matters more to me here, is that Crowley definitely wears a different watch in S2.

It‘s very nicely and accurately framed in many shots as well, including the promotion pictures. Yet another thing I‘d wager to not be a coincidence. But that‘s merely speculation, of course. A lot of props and a lot of Crowley‘s appearance changed since S1 and changes even throughout S2.

Whether or not this has any deeper meaning or is simply a red herring, is for Neil and the prop department only to know.

All I‘m saying is: The mysterious custom-made, possibly non-human-made watch that said it was always „Too Late“ is gone or at least changed with some focus shifted onto it, and yet: It‘s still always too late, according to Crowley.

Is it a metaphore? For Crowley‘s Fall and it always having been „Too Late“ for him in „Another Place“ (e.g. Heaven)?

Or is it a hint? To the Second Coming? To Armageddon not having been the only end of the World? To the unofficial picture where the whole world seems to have been destroyed and the last thing standing is the bookshop? To that version of world, where it seems to be too late after all?

Or is it just a watch? And just a line? And I should just put my book down and go for another swim in the ocean in case this is just a sun-induced conspiracy theory?

Let me know your thoughts, I‘m sure this has been wondered about before!

[the-kr8tor]

Solo Mission

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 15k

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple mission goes awry. Your choices have consequences.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW food mentions, TW death, TW blood and gore, Body horror, CW injury, TW violence. Space exploration AU, Set in the future, Established relationships, space scavenger! Hobie and reader, horror elements.

A/N: Heavily inspired by the alien franchise and oats studio's zygote short film.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

You float weightlessly in the vastness of space like an untethered satellite. Space, all encompassing, dark and foreboding land of stars and galaxies.

You dance in the windless place, swimming amidst the rocky asteroids, and gaseous gas that parts for you like seafoam on the shores of your old home. The sounds of twinkling wind chimes clink sweetly. Your eyes shine as you continue to fly, Saturn's rings wave by, Pluto's speck whizzes past you. Your fingers rake through the dust of ancient cosmos. A burnt smell of metal and steel enters your lungs, and as you look up to see the source, A blackhole appears, it sings an empty song.

And then suddenly, there's nothing but emptiness where the sun used to be. Your screams are taken from your throat as tendrils of darkness envelope your weightless being, stretching, and tugging and pulling at your body until you're nothing but a part of its ancient mass.

Gone and forgotten.

“Fuck!” You wake up in your cot, head almost hitting the top bunk that has been empty since you've claimed the cabin for your own. Heaving, hand on your chest, you feel arms snake around your middle, and his nose nudging your side. “Sorry, nightmare.”

Hobie inhales, looking up at you through half lidded eyes. “What's it about this time?” His voice is gravelly from sleep, palm softly pressing on your stomach to lay you back down.

“A blackhole this time.” You whisper as you lay down on the soft pillow. The cot barely fits the two of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way. “It swallowed me, I think.”

He hums, chin placed on your shoulder, one eye closed from sleepiness. “It was a metaphor for capitalism.”

Smiling, you wipe at the crust gathering in the corner of his eyes. “You're so good at interpreting dreams.”

“I should have made it a career instead of bein’ a scavenger.” He pulls you towards him so you don't fall over the edge of the cot. His hand is warmer than the summers back on earth.

“Well, if you did go into that industry you wouldn't have met me, captain.” You snuggle closer, “also, I think you wouldn't earn much.” Your hand finds penchants on the back of his neck, fingers kneading softly.

Chuckling, he pecks your cheek before closing his eyes, completely relaxing in your gentle touch. “You never know, we might've met because you wanted me to decipher your dreams.”

“Go back to dreaming, you sap.” you giggle, “We might have a long day today, we need you bright and sharp, cap.”

“Don't have to tell me twice, doc.” He yawns, hugging you tightly. “You feel alright though? I can stay awake if you need someone to talk to, lovie.”

“I'm good, thank you, but holding me like this is already helping me.”

“Maybe I should've become a professional hugger then.” He mumbles as he drifts off to sleep. The soft whirring of the station lulls him to dream of better things, and the big space metal he calls home floats and rotates in place, almost like it's rocking the two of you.

“Yeah, maybe.” You inhale sharply at the familiar scent of the space station. It's metallic in nature, but the gentle smell of home trumps the acrid scent of steel.

Your eyes roam the grey room that you and Hobie have made your own. Various posters and pictures of your travels across the galaxy are taped to the walls, numerous tools, both medical and mechanical, lay about the room. But the thing that hasn't stopped you from staring at it is the large circular window sitting at the far wall just across from the bed. It's an eternal darkness out here, with no way to tell what time it is, or what day it is without a watch. It can make anyone go insane without proper training. It's like living underground, except you get to see the sky and everything above and below it.

Amidst the darkness of space there lies Mars, in all its crimson glory, stares back at you. The red planet drenches your room in its hue as the station floats and rotates, it bathes you in its magnificence. The planet is a large beautiful thing, and it makes you feel small in its primordial presence. It has you thinking that home is only a stone throw away— Earth, even though it's thousands of miles away from you. Thousands of miles away from the salty sea, miles away from the chirping birds, and sweet flowers. You miss home. But with Hobie in your arms, this is the closest to home.

A knock echoes in the room, the comms cackles to life, and a tired raspy voice speaks in a mechanical tone from the old comms. “Either one of you awake?”

You sigh, taking a peek at your sleeping captain. With a double tap in your ear, you turn on the communication on your end, “Someone better be dying, Yuri.” You whisper, making sure that Hobie doesn't stir awake as you rub your knuckles over his arm affectionately.

“This night shift is killing me but that's not why I'm here.” You hear her sneeze on the other side, and then a sniffle. “Sorry, but I think we found something.”

“What kind of something?”

“A big payday kind of something.”

—

The door hisses as you enter the kitchen of the space station. The sudden bright lights make you wince in your fatigued state, one eye open while your hand roams all over the wall next to you to dim the lights. Once you feel the knob of the light switch, you turn down the harshness of the white light.

“I've gone blind.” You blink rapidly, adjusting your sight to the now darker room.

“Will a pot of fresh coffee cure your blindness?” Yuri asks behind you. In her arm is a holopad where hundreds of flashing dots appear. It's gibberish to you, but to the ship's personal navigator, it comes natural to Yuri.

“Maybe? Is it the good stuff from AE-67?”

“What are we, the emperor?” She raises a brow, and you shake your head with a pout. “When we scrap this ship we're tailing, we can drink that shit every single day, babes.”

You walk towards the coffee pot, grabbing two mugs, knowing that Hobie is bound to wake up now that your warmth next to him is gone. “You said that last time. And we almost ended up space scrap ourselves.”

“Oh this one would be different because…” she turns her holo pad to face you, revealing an old government issued ship just floating in space. “I think we might've found the motherload.”

“That looks ancient.” You pinch at the screen, zooming in on the chipping markings. “And very much confidential. This is an army ship, Yuri—”

“At three fucking A.M. Yuri?! Really?” James walks inside the kitchen, fuming and very tired from how his eyebags sag underneath his blue eyes. Ned follows behind him, hair disheveled and still in his pajamas. “Where's the captain?”

“Sleeping, but I bet he's waking up from how loud you were screaming.” You toss a balled up napkin at him, hitting him right on his chest.

“Everyone shut the fuck up,” Ned yawns, hands placed on top of his ears. “I need my coffee stat.” He takes your cup instead of getting his own. Putting three scoops of sugar and four spoonfuls of creamer, which he stirs quickly before chugging it.

“We live with a barbarian.” You roll your eyes, getting a fresh cup. You meet with Yuri's eyes, she gestures towards the dining table, and sits the holodeck on top of it, which immediately activates the projector that shows a bigger, much clearer picture of the ship. “Damn.” Hands protectively over the two cups, you watch as Ned’s eyes widen at the sight.

James whistles lowly, “wait, I know that ship. I remember my dad reporting on it fifteen years ago.”

Yuri snorts, “so back when you were in diapers?”

“No—”

“Is that what I think it is?” Hobie appears in the doorway, bleary eyes blinking at the projection. He walks towards the table, hands swiping at the hologram to turn it around, and zooming in on what's left of the markings. “Fuckin' hell.” He curses under his breath.

You close the distance, sliding his cup next to him as you sip on your own. “What is it? You recognize it?”

“It's the ‘Herodotus.’ It's been missing for years. How the fuck—?” You remember that name, and how infamous it became over the years. It's a myth spread across the galaxy, where treasures could lie.

“I came across it on our radar. A more modern radar isn't designed to detect old ships like this, but ours is old as balls, so our old girl found it.” Yuri answers him, patting the table as if it's sentient. “Then I sent our little droid to take pictures of it. It's in the zeta quadrant in the Remus constellation. Not that far from where we are.” She looks over to a bewildered you. “I knew we had something.”

“Some people say they're carrying tons of credits to be transported to some planet in sector seven.” Ned enters a few codes in the panel on the table, and a second later, the news article about said ship pops up. A picture of the ship looking shiny and new is on top of the page. “Some say it exploded, or looted while en route.”

You read through the article. “There were no survivors.” Your hand instinctively wraps around Hobie's, making him squeeze you. “There were no escape pods recorded to have left the ship.”

“That they know of,” Hobie replies. “No one found the bloody ship, until now.”

“So what's the course of action, captain?” Yuri asks.

Hobie looks over to you. And your mind runs a thousand miles per second. “What if there was a disease that wiped them out instead? It happened before on Romulus five years ago, what if—” you sigh, knowing the crew's minds are made up. “The ship looks pristine, no sign of explosion or pirates looting outside.”

“Or we could find millions inside.” James adds. “If there's no credits on board— it's an army ship, the weapons alone could be worthwhile. Or hell, even the power core and the cryo pods.”

“I can't believe I'm saying this but, James is right.” Yuri sighs and James fist pumps the air victoriously. “This could be the one we're waiting for.”

You purse your lips, and Hobie looks at you through pensive eyes. “If the captain wants to go, I'll go.”

Hobie cups your cheek briefly with a smile before returning his attention towards his small crew. “We'll take precautions in case there's a virus,” Yuri, claps her hands with a grin while Ned and James share a look. “And we take anythin' valuable.”

“Crunching the numbers, I think we're looking at ten mill, each.” Ned smiles, clasping Hobie's shoulder. “So just like any job then?”

“Just like any job.”

“Let's go get rich then.” Yuri hoots and hollers down towards the cockpit to punch in the coordinates.

The crew leaves to prepare, but you can't help but ignore the gnawing worry in your stomach. Hobie notices while drinking his coffee. He turns his attention towards you, calloused hands rubbing along your arms comfortingly.

“You alright?”

“Mm-hmm, just worried. The usual.” You take his hand from your arm to kiss the back of it. “It's nothing.”

“You know I trust your gut, right? Remember that heist we had on earth?” You nod with a faint smile. “You said you had a bad feelin’ and it turns out it was a trap. If not for you tellin’ your concerns we would be talkin’ through our cells in blackwater right now.”

“Okay, I worry that something is wrong with it.” You glance at the projection of the ship. “Just— I have an eerie feeling about it.”

“Tell you what, just say the word and we don't do it.” Hobie cups your jaw, thumbs rubbing along your skin gently. “We go about our way through the bloody cosmos like usual.”

You inhale. “We do need the money though.”

He gives you a smile, lips meeting your forehead. “I know. We'll be set for life if we do this.” You hum, eyes closed. “No more space farin’, no more diggin’ through dead ships for scraps.”

“And we can go home.”

“And we can go back to earth, and buy that place you like.” He whispers the last part.

You chuckle as he kisses the tip of your nose. “With the reading nook, and large bathtub?”

“Big enough for the two of us. All that and more, love.” He smiles, and you feel reassured. Tilting his head, he kisses you properly this time.

—

You sit just behind Yuri in the control room, you're tucked in safely with the seatbelts that's properly secured. Hobie sits at the front, navigating through the asteroid belt expertly. His hand flexes over the controls as the ship goes to a cruising speed once the decommissioned ship appears in sight.

Behind the large circular ship lays a red planet with its storms brewing just above the surface with yellow lightning that sparks and illuminates the dark space for a brief time.

“No wonder no one found this ship.” James mumbles in his seat.

“Until now.” Yuri smirks at him, eyebrow raised in a teasing manner which James scoffs at.

“Is that?” You narrow your eyes at the broken down droid floating aimlessly, it's barely a dot in the radar. The mechanical eyes are dim, wings broken in half next to it, and its tail is sparking from its broken down state.

“Damn it!” Yuri curses, eyes flicking towards Ned, who's groaning in anguish.

“No, Terry 2.0!” Ned thumps his head on the seat headrest. “He was my favourite!”

“I see something behind the ship!” James exclaims as he activates the ship's radar, your screen lights up like a Christmas tree in the shape of another ship.

“Wankers.” Hobie guides the ship carefully, rounding the corner to stare down at the rival emerald coloured ship. With a few clicks on the panel, he calls up whoever is left on the ship.

“I swear those martians are always right on our tail.” Yuri shakes her head with an angry look on her face.

The call rings and rings, yet no one answers. “Fuck it, let's dock on the other side. I bet we'll come across those arseholes.” With an annoyed grunt, Hobie moves the ship on the other side to dock.

Everything happens by the book. Hobie lines up the ship perfectly along the docking clasps while Riri makes sure that the crimson spider is nicely locked on the military ship. And once everything is in place, you make sure that Hobie has his double lined suit on and everyone else that's coming on board the decommissioned ship. It's not needed most of the time, but with your worry of unknown disease that could be on board, it's a necessity.

“Yuri, you stay ‘ere in case things shit the fan.” Hobie instructs Yuri and she slumps down just as she's about to put on her boots.

“Come on, cap! I wanted to give those dicks a piece of my mind!”

“Sorry, James stayed last time.”

James smirks under his helmet, forgetting that it's completely see through.

“Oh fuck off, James.” Yuri kicks his shin, causing the smug blond to hold his leg and jump in place. He winces, the sound echoing through the comms.

“Ow! I just smiled!”

“Alright, enough of that. We have a job to do.” Ned says before you could. You give him a thankful nod. The other two doesn't seem to get the message, their arguing echoes throughout the ship.

Your suit hugs you in its silicon material, helmet fitting snugly and smelling faintly of jasmine. You can bet that Yuri used it before on a routine space walk. Tapping on the controls right on your wrist, you make sure the oxygen and carbon dioxide levels are alright. Sighing, Hobie sidles up to you, hand grabbing onto the med kid on your belt, pulling you closer to him.

“Just say the word, love.”

“I'm starting to think you're the one who's more worried than me.”

“It's my job to worry.” He smiles, “and it's part of the deal in lovin’ you.” He whispers the last sentence, making sure the other three are still arguing right behind you.

“You make it sound like I blackmailed you into loving me.”

“Nah, I walked right into it with open arms.” Hobie winks, sending your heart into a marathon.

You hold onto his wrist, wishing that you could feel his warmth under the suit. Smiling, you draw circles around his wrist. “Now that we're here, I actually feel good about it now.”

He chuckles, “you're a bad liar, love. I have to teach you how to lie better.”

You feign annoyance with a click of your tongue, smile betraying you. “Damn it, you saw right through me—”

“Fine!” Yuri's angry voice pops the bubble of affection around you and Hobie. She gives James the middle finger. “When you come back, your room will be filled with fucking jelly!”

“I hope an alien abducts you while you're alone here!”

“Moron, aliens aren't real!”

“Enough.” One word from Hobie and they both quiet down. (The ghost of his smile betrays him though) But their glares don't subside. “We have to move quickly or the Martians will get the loot before we can.”

“Aye, aye, cap.” Yuri says with a roll of her eyes, clearly annoyed at the situation. “Get me something good, babes.” She says to you as she moves out of the room and back into the cockpit. She opens the airlock, waving goodbye through the glass window.

Alarms blare, a high pitched sound declaring that the air lock has been opened. Red light illuminates the room as the air hisses and squeaks from the pressure change. Hobie holds onto your hand, squeezing three times when the giant door opens and reveals the state of the old ship.

“It's dark.” James says through the comms, voice a bit muffled by the system. “There goes looting the power supply.”

“Maybe the emergency system shut it off after whatever happened to them.” Ned steps inside first, opening his flashlight perched on his shoulder. “Besides, basic shit like doors and gravity would still work without it.”

The unmistakable click of a gun's safety goes off in James’ hand as he takes the rear end of the line right behind you. Your hand reluctantly lets go of Hobie, fingers stopping once you feel the familiar indents of your pistol right on your hip. Hobie's back is in front of you, no doubt holding on to his own gun just like Ned and James.

The doors close right behind you, and the crimson spider’s light is snuffed out, plunging the crew in darkness. Your hand shakes as you click your torch open. The air is stale and stagnant, with dust particles flying about. The ship is a mess inside, full of broken down metal, and scraps of papers strewn about. But still no sign of life.

The visitor's desk that should've greeted you on the way in sits empty. The booth is cracked, and the inside looks like a hurricane ran through it. Your hand unclips the holster, thumb practically glued on the gun. You have a bad feeling about all of this despite what you just told Hobie.

The comms cackle to life in your ears. “Everyone alive in there?” Yuri's voice echoes, and you hear her munching on her breakfast.

“Good on our end.” Ned answers, walking at a reasonable pace. “Are you seriously eating right now—!” He hits something with his foot, and whatever it was, it lights up the hallway, bathing it in blue light. “What the fuck!”

“Calm down.” Hobie clasps his shoulder as Ned moves to the side, giving you the perfect view of a droid on its last life.

“What happened?!” Yuri yells.

“It's just a service droid.” You sigh, answering her question. “We're good, Yuri.”

“You're a fucking scaredy cat, Ned.” James chortles behind you. Ned rolls his eyes, flipping the bird at James.

Hobie crouches down, turning the droid’s head to the side to see its cracked screen. It still smiles as sparks fly from its joints. “Ned, can you splice its memory?”

“Child's play.” He says, still clutching his chest. “It might take some time but I can do it remotely once I've connected to its head.”

“Good, thanks, mate.” Hobie stands up, letting Ned do his work. He looks at you, wordlessly asking if you're alright with just a nod.

You send a wink at him despite your anxiety crawling up your neck.

“And…I'm in. We can go.” Ned groans as he stands up, Hobie gives him a helping hand which the man takes.

“How long?” You ask, looking over Ned’s shoulder.

“Fifteen minutes, give or take.”

“I'll take the lead this time.” Hobie says, gesturing for Ned to move behind him and in front of you. You don't like how Hobie went further down the line, but you sucked it up as it's part of the job you signed up for.

The crew continues to stalk the hallways, guns raised, and with your heart rate quickening with every step. The place has become more disheveled with every move you take, tables turned over, consoles broken into pieces, shards of glass littered across the floor and broken wires sparking on the walls. And there has been no sign of the other crew, or other life forms amidst the destruction.

“Where are they?” You ask, swallowing thickly at the broken down dining area you passed. Good thing you have helmets on or the smell would've been rancid with the leftovers you saw still on the table.

James scoffs behind you. “Fuck them, Y/N, why are you so worried? It's a big ass ship, odds are we don't see them.”

“If they're going where we're going, we're bound to walk into them.” You raise a brow, looking over your shoulder. “Besides, we should've seen a sign from them by now.” Peeking at your small console on your arm with the map of the ship, you surmise your group has already reached the middle of it, which means you should've heard the other group talking or even their footsteps echoing by now. It has been silent ever since you stepped foot inside.

You pat your pistol on your hip, the hair on your nape rises with your anxiety boiling inside you. Maybe it's better if you do see them, it would mean the place is safe from any contaminants or other dangerous obstacles bound to happen when you're exploring a decommissioned ship.

The group walks in silence with each of their heavy footsteps echoing around the winding hallway. On your right sits numerous rooms where the crew would've slept in. On your left are large windows that showcase the vast space just outside of the ship. You're used to the view, but you always loved looking at the dark with its numerous stars and planets dotting the view. You always wonder if someone out there was gazing at the same view as you, and you always have an answer to it, and that's Hobie.

You meet with his eyes just as when he looks away from the window to you. He smiles beneath his helmet, winking casually, reassuring that he's right there with you. You grin at him, pursing your lips and mocking a silent kiss that makes him chuckle before shaking his head and taking his attention back towards the front.

“Heads up.” Yuri's voice cackles on the intercom. “Cryo room inbound.”

Hobie stops when he sees the big letters on his right. The large double doors are tightly sealed with the panels on its left still blinking and softly beeping amidst the darkened room. A number is painted on the doors, and a few symbols indicating the rooms importance and what lies inside.

“Do you want to check it out, Hobie?” Ned asks, lifting his head briefly from his console to look at the doors. “The pods could still be intact, we can sell them if they are.” His console beeps, and he presses a few buttons on it. “We got time anyway, decryption is at seventeen percent.”

“And there could be people inside.” You add, “it is protocol to get inside a pod if all else fails in the ship.”

“Imagine if they were,” James mutters. “they've been sleeping and waiting in there for fifteen or so years. Fucking creepy.”

“Probably,” Hobie says while lining up his torchlight at the dinging control panels. Your heart thumps with trepidation from their words. “Ned, could you?”

“Sure thing.” Ned walks towards the panel to connect his console with it. “Good thing we saw that droid, now I've got access to most of the ship.”

“Everyone say ‘thank you, dead robot.’” James chimes.

“Thank you, dead robot!” Yuri laughs in the coms, “we'll be sure to remember its memory once we get our own mansions.”

“Cryo pods are worth half a mil each in the market nowadays.” You say while you wait for Ned to open the doors. Hobie sidles up next to you, leaning against you casually. “And with how vintage this is, it could fetch us a handsome prize from the right collector.”

He turns his head towards you, bumping his helmet against yours gently. “You're brilliant.”

You show him your console that is showing how much a cryo pod is in the online blackmarket. “I was reading off of it.”

Hobie chuckles, moving away to pat your shoulder. “Should've said so, love.” You giggle at his reaction. “You're still gettin’ reception from ‘ere?”

“It's a bit choppy now, but yeah.”

“It's because of my genius with the net expander—” Ned pats himself on the back, literally. “There, it's open.” With a chiming sound and a hiss of compacted air, the cryo room opens to you.

Hobie and James go inside first with their weapons drawn, their steps calculated, and eyes watchful at the blue lined walls. You follow closely with Ned by your side, he shifts his head around the expansive room. Unlike the hallways, the room is pristine. With its walls and floors clean as if it's the first time someone has stepped foot inside. In the center sits a dozen or so cryo pods. Its cylindrical shape and glass lid sparkles from your flashlights.

Once Hobie and James cleared the room, you peek inside one of the pods, finding it empty. “Ah shit.” You look inside each pod to make sure, only seeing its white padded walls instead of what you expected. “It's all empty.” You sigh, hands placed on your hips.

“Thank fuck.” James takes a peek at one of them with a relieved sigh. “I would be freaked out if there was someone in one of these.”

Ned raises a teasing brow, “weren't you born in one?”

“Fuck off.” James flips him the bird.

Hobie smiles at the interaction while punching in a few buttons at the control panel in the center. You walk closer to him, hand placed on his waist while looking at the display.

“It says that it's in optimal condition.” You say while reading the rest of the information. “Even the cryo fuel has never been used.”

“I can read y’know.” He tilts his head at you, glancing briefly while he presses a few more buttons.

“Ha ha.” You squeeze his side, if not for the suit he would've felt it better. And yet he still yelps, as if it hurt him.

With a chuckle, he calls Yuri. “Ready the ship at dock number three, I'm sending the pods to you.”

“Fuck yeah!” Yuri's happy cheers ring in your coms. James even claps in place but when Ned doesn't show his excitement, he nudges him, and Ned scoffs at him in return before turning his attention back towards his screen, probably monitoring the decryption.

“Right, stand aside, I don't want you lot getting pulled in.” Hobie pulls you back by your belt, you stagger backwards, earning a yelp from you. When you stare daggers at him he just grins playfully. “What? I was jus' lookin' out for you is all.”

“Thank you, Hobie.” You say sarcastically, head bopping to the side while the floor around the cryo pods open with a mechanical hiss.

“You're welcome, love.” He pats your behind, chuckling as the pods descend from the floors downwards to the docking bay. You pat his flat ass in retaliation, which James makes a face at the two of you. “You got it from ‘ere, Yuri?”

“Got it, cap.” You can hear some clicking and whirring on the other side of the call. “Anddd… It's in! We're rich!”

While the others celebrate with high fives and fist pumps, a trilling sound from outside the room takes your attention. You walk towards the door, peeking over the doorway, eyes roaming around the dark with your flashlight following your line of sight.

You turn your head to the right. Nothing, just an open shutter with another dark hallway.

You turn to your left, nothing but dust flitting about.

A hand suddenly grasps your shoulder, and you jump from the shock of it. “Jus’ me, love.” Hobie rubs his gloved thumb over your shoulder blade, amused eyes turning into concern when he notices your anxious self. “You alright?”

“Y–yeah, I thought I heard something.”

He gives you a tight smile, pulling you towards him for a quick hug. “It's an old ship, it creaks and groans.”

You inhale sharply, “yeah, I know. I'm just jumpy.” Placing your hand on his cheek, the helmet stops you from fully feeling his warmth against your skin. “We can go now, right?”

“You kidding?” James appears from behind, grinning from ear to ear. “We gotta get the power source now, doc. Go big or go home, right?”

“I'd rather go home now actually, James.” You frown at him.

“Come on, there could still be valuable shit in here.” He pushes in between you and Hobie, going out of the room to spread his arms to his side. “You never know there could be that treasure we've heard about.”

“That's a load of shit.” You say, annoyed. “We got what we need, let's just go back to our ship instead of chasing some old wives tale.”

“We're not leaving until we see for ourselves that it is just some story.” James doesn't back down, “right, cap?”

You turn towards Hobie, clearly contemplating his choices. “How ‘bout we put it to a vote, like usual.”

“Come on, Hobie—” You start.

“I vote stay!” James cuts you off.

“Sorry, gorgeous, but I also vote yes. I have debts to pay, y’know.” Yuri adds to the conversation, you were hoping that she was on your side in this.

You shift towards Ned, who finds himself in the middle while he stares (or pretends to) at his screen. “What?”

“You need to vote, Ned.” You say, arms crossed atop your chest while leaning on the doorway.

“Vote yes to be a multi millionaire, Ned.” James teases you some more with a smirk playing on his lips.

“I found the ship map from the files I got from the droid.” Ned says, and James groans loudly. “And it says here that there's a hidden chamber deep inside the ship—”

“The treasure!” Both Yuri and James exclaim.

Hobie beckons Ned over, looking at the map on his console to see it for himself. You glance at it, and sure enough, there's a large chamber right in the center of the ship that wasn't in the original map placed around the ship walls.

Hobie turns towards you, and you already know what he's about to say. “Love—”

“Fine, majority wins.” you slink off outside without another word.

Hobie tries to reach for you but you're already walking away.

—

The group stays on course. With Hobie leading and with you in the back of the line, frowning and jaw clenched at the hallway ahead. At least the view outside is pretty. You glance at Hobie, finding that he's focused on what lies ahead.

With a huff, you open your screen to amuse yourself with some good old space invaders but you find that the net has stopped connecting with you being so far from the crimson spider. You could still play to spite the team, but you opt not to be such a child in the face of uncertainty. So you put the console to sleep, a flicker of Hobie's photo appearing before the screen turns to black.

You bite your lip when the group turns a corner towards the ship's cockpit. Again, the hallway is empty save for a few glass shards cracking under your boots. The air is as stale as before, and there hasn't been anyone you've come across through the short walk from the cryo room to the control room.

Hobie tries to open the door on the panel to the side, but it beeps in a high pitched tone, indicating that he can't access it.

“Ned,” he looks over his shoulder, only to find that Ned’s already by his side, console at the ready.

“I should send you all the authorization so you don't need me anymore to do this for you.”

“Aw, but we always need you, Neddy.” Yuri jokes in the coms, and you manage to let out a small chuckle.

Hobie hears you, turning to smile at you, which you slink away from, still annoyed and frustrated by him and his decision. His expression falters as the entire team hears a beeping sound from their screens to find that Ned has given you and the rest the access codes he got from the droid.

“There, in case we get separated, we can all open doors now.” Just as Ned says it, the cockpit doors open with a groan and a hiss. But it stops halfway, only opening enough for one person to pass through one at a time. “Damn it.” He tries to fix it by banging at the panel, but the doors only wheeze as sparks fly. “Note to self: don't do that.”

“It's fine, we can get inside anyway.” Hobie squeezes himself inside, you stop him immediately with your hand on his bicep. “Yeah, love?” He pauses in place right in between the double sliding doors.

You quickly scan the room, finding no one else inside or anything that would put him in danger. “Sorry, just checking.”

He pats your hand with a smile, reassuring you. “Thanks, love, I've got this, don't worry.”

“She always worries.” James utters under his breath. You snap your head at him, eyes narrowed. “What? I didn't say nothing.”

You hum, still staring daggers at him. “Watch your tone, James or I'll give you all those vaccines you keep avoiding, all at once.”

James surrenders while Ned goes inside the control room. “Jeez, sorry.” He gestures for you to squeeze yourself in next.

With a roll of your eyes, you move to shimmy yourself in, but that same trilling sound echoes from down the hallway towards you. It sends goosebumps to your arms, hair standing on the back of your neck.

“Did you hear that?” You ask James, who's standing next to you, waiting for his turn.

“No, it was probably the pipes. Old ship—”

“Yeah, I get it, this place is old.” With a quick push, you get yourself out of the doors.

The command center is as dark as the rest of the ship. The air seems to be more stagnant here than the rest with its lights flickering on and off, bulbs buzzing, threatening to pop. You scan the floors, finding it as disordered with broken glass, and scattered papers. But what gets your attention is the oozing dark matter still dripping from a table down to the floors. You briefly scan it with your device built in with your console, but after a few seconds of it trying to identify the substance, an error code pops up on the screen.

“What is it?” Ned sidles up next to you, eyes narrowed at the slimy material. “Goo?”

“I don't know, my console can't identify it.” You feel a sense of deja vu around it.

“Weird, it's probably on the fritz. I'll check it once we're back.” He nudges your arm. But when you could only stare at it, he shakes you lightly. “Y/N? You alright?”

A bright light seems to appear from inside the ooze, as if something is moving inside it. Something alive, ready to reach towards you with its dark tendrils.

“Hey.” Ned shakes you harder this time, managing to wake you up from your haze. “Do you feel dizzy?”

You inhale, craning your neck to look at him. “I'm fine, Ned. And that's my job.”

He chuckles, “not trying to take your job, doc.” Walking away, he looks over his shoulder, waiting for you to follow. “Come on then, before the captain worries.”

You take one last look at the substance before following Ned. It looks the same as before, maybe it was the trick of the light coming from the planet slowly rotating in the large window up front. It's a gaseous ball with its numerous storms laying waste to the entire planet. Its red lightning flaring, lighting up the cockpit with brief crimson. Hundreds of hurricanes' swirling clouds can be seen from where you are. It's magnificent, a terrifying force of nature. If this ship plummets down, there's no surviving it.

Tamping down your dark thoughts, you make your way towards Hobie, who's connecting his console with the main control panel. He glances at you, nodding briefly before returning his attention towards the blinking panels. His helmet reflects the storm in front, a dance of lightning and clouds circling around the glass of his helmet.

“Good thing the emergency power is keeping this place afloat.” James sighs, arms perched atop his rifle. “I really don't want to go down with this ship.”

“Stop it, James.” Hobie mutters, brows furrowed at his screen. He's still trying to keep your worries away even though he's busy. “It's not giving me any of the captain's logs.”

“You might need a higher clearance.” Ned connects himself to the controls, trying to override the clearance. “Wait— the decryption is done.” He unplugs to check the files, finding hundreds of audio files from a crew member named ‘Harry’.

The team shares a look, and you inhale deeply. As Ned pressed play on the last known recording, the crackling sound of the garbled audio echoes around the dark and silent room.

“Log 277, I've run out of food up here.” His voice is weak, as if he has been running a hundred miles before recording. “Serves me right for not stopping by the mess hall before shit hit the fan.” Something metallic can be heard in the audio, as if a gust of wind is blowing a tin roof away. “I can't— I can't do this anymore.” His sobs fade away for a second before he composes himself. “I've only got three days worth of water left— and I keep seeing that fucking face whenever I close my goddamn eyes!” He sharply inhales. “I–If you're hearing this recording that means I've successfully sent my logs to all the droids in the ship. I could at least warn you. And if you're still on the ship, run.” The recording cackles until it ends.

“What the fuck?” You whisper yell, palm gripping at your chest to ease your quick heartbeat.

Hobie reaches for you, hand placed on your nape, and his eyes swimming with fear. “We should get out of ‘ere.” You grip his hand, lips wobbling as you look at the side of his face.

“But—” James starts, eyes wide but clearly wanting to push through.

“We need to go, James.” You shake your head at him, steely eyes staring at him.

“Yuri—” Hobie calls for her.

“I heard, cap, I'm already docking the ship to the nearest exit.” She replies, tone serious.

“Let's go—” Ned gestures to leave, but a strained cough from somewhere freezes the group in place.

You flick your eyes at everyone, finding each of their faces morph into a terrified expression.

“P–please…” The mysterious voice pleads. “Behind…the controls.”

As terrified as you are right now, you can't help but try to save them, whoever they are.

Sliding away from Hobie's side despite his protests, you go around the panels to find the stranger. You gasp at his slumped state, his helmet is shattered to bits, lungs desperately trying to intake air, and his eyes— they're nothing but bloody sockets in his head.

Hobie follows you, immediately freezing when he sees what you're looking at with your wide eyes. “Fuck.”

Ned and James watch on with similar horror etched on their faces while Yuri’s gasps can be heard while she sees the stranger from your camera connected to the ship.

You slowly kneel down, trembling hands trying to open your med pack from your belt. Hobie's hand tries to keep you in place, protecting you from the man. The velcro from your pack rips as you open it, and the man raises a bruised hand to stop you.

“Not worth trying.” He wheezes. “I'm a dead man.”

Hobie narrows his eyes at the familiar patch on the man's suit, he sports a similar logo as the martians who got on the ship before you. “Are you with the—?”

“Commander Andy Landers at your service.” He salutes weakly, chuckling which was quickly replaced by a pained cough. “Who are you fuckers?” He points at his nonexistent eyes. “I'm not wearing my glasses right now.”

“Hobie Brown…” he kneels beside you, hand never leaving your shoulder. “You’re with my team. What happened ‘ere?”

Andy licks his cracked lips, hands flexing into fists as a wave of pain washes over him. “You need to get out of here.”

You try to patch up his eyes with a cloth of bandage but he stops you by suddenly grabbing your wrists in a bruising grip. “L–let go.”

“Don't look at it, or else it will know where you are.” He squeezes you tighter, his eye sockets dripping with fresh blood like a tear. Hobie comes to your side, trying to pry Andy away from you. “You can't kill it, but you can take your eyes away before it gets you!”

You desperately pull your hands away, Hobie manages to yank you off, and you immediately crawl away from Andy and towards Hobie. Hobie embraces your side, fingers gripping onto your suit, shielding you from the strange and eerie man.

The former commander gasps, as if his breath is being sucked right out of his lungs. His head is held up high, chest heaving and gasping for air. Bloodied tears flow down on his cheeks, leaving trails of crimson on his battered flesh. As fast as it came, he falls back into place, sockets seeming to stare right at you.

“It’s coming for you, doc.”

Your vision turns hazy with a kaleidoscope of light, but before you could blink it away, you're yanked up to your feet with Hobie dragging you out of there.

“We need to help him.” Just as you said the words, alarms blare out in the cockpit. Red lights suddenly illuminate the room, and a blue fog creeps from below the vents to the floor. The ship has activated its waste protocol, which means it has detected a foreign and dangerous object within the room.

“There's no helping him!” Hobie runs, while Ned manages to squeeze himself through the doors before it suddenly shuts closed. Hobie and James hit the steel doors harshly from their speed. And you run into Hobie's back right after. “Fuck!” He punches the doors, it doesn't even dent it. “Ned!”

“Already on it!” Ned's frantic muffled voice can be heard on the other side.

“That's it! I'm coming in!” Yuri screams into the coms as you hear her running footsteps in the background.

“No, Yuri, stay on the bloody ship!”

While Hobie and James try to pry open the door with their bare hands, a sound akin to crawling coming from the vents gets your attention. It seems to get closer amidst the blaring alarms.

“Take me, oh magnificent one!” Andy shouts from his place, and now you see fingers gripping the metal vents from below the floors, then another, then another as if three pairs of hands are trying to open it.

“Hobie.” You stagger back, hands grasping at Hobie's suit.

“‘m tryin', love!”

With the rattling of metal, the vent hatch disappears from beyond, sucked inside. The fingers reach out until a bloodied arm appears, then another, and another until you see dozens of fingers attached to three mangled and melded arms. A grotesque being of unfathomable nature.

“Hobie!” You shake him, and he finally looks back to see the creature rear its ugly head from under the vents— Heads, there's dozens of heads stuck together on its thick bloodied neck that oozes dark tendrils. Faces all morphed together into agonized expressions. Their voices are warbled, screaming in different tones and jumbled up words of suffering. “Ned, we need this opened now!”

You stand and watch as the being crawls out of the dark as sirens ring in your ears and ruby lights flicker in and out of place with the kaleidoscope haze in your vision. Its skin bends into a mass of flesh, a rat king of sorts, limbs tangled together, strewn together by a black substance ebbing out of its pores.

“Water!” The creature gargles out the words from deep within its throat. “Help!”

“Oh god.” You walk backwards into the wall, seeing the creature wobble towards the commander behind the control panels. Panting in place, you see James aim at it. “Don't!” You yell at him, arm outstretched. “You'll get its attention. Andy's giving us time.”

“I'm here!” Yuri's muffled voice from behind the door gives you hope. “Ned, tell me what to do!”

Their conversation falls from your ears as the mangled mess of flesh and muscle gets to the commander. It rises up to its full height, revealing you more of its hands and feet on its belly, all melted into place to create a wall of bloody and beaten flesh. A rainbow light flashes in your vision as it devours the man. Blood gushes out on the floor while it tears into him. He doesn't scream or plead for mercy, he stays in place, accepting his fate.

“Y/N!” Hobie's voice takes your attention away from the gore filled sight. “You go first!” He pushes you towards the crack in the door that Ned and Yuri managed to open. You can see their faces freeze in fear as they see the creature feed.

“What about you?!” You grab his arms, pulling him towards you.

“I'll be right behind you, love, I promise, yeah?” He pushes you further out while Ned and Yuri help pull you outside.

You hit the floor in a grunt, back aching that you push down to help Hobie get out. Standing up, you take out your pistol, aiming behind him while you cover Hobie as he scrambles out.

“Hurry!” Yuri yells, “James, you're next!”

Hobie manages to get out just as the creature's delighted hums of pleasure stop. You pull him closer to you for an embrace, he hugs back, face hidden on the crook of your neck.

“Fuck!” James' rifle buzzes and then goes off, and you immediately move away to help him. He shoots at the alien, bullets getting absorbed by its wall of flesh whenever he hits his mark.

“Forget it and just get out!” Yuri sticks her hand out to pull him out. She manages to grab hold of his belt, pulling him out into the barely opened door.

A spray of bullets rain inside while you join Yuri in pulling James out. “James! You need to go!”

Ned panics on the panel as it beeps an error sound, warning of the doors closing. “Fuck! Hobie—!”

Hobie stops from pulling James to help Ned. “Shit, it needs a fingerprint!” He presses his own thumb on the scanner to no avail. He realizes what happens next. “Pull him out now—!”

The unmistakable click of the empty rifle rings like a death knell. James' body is only a quarter from getting through as the creature grabs him with its multiple hands, pulling him away from your grasp, lifting him up while it opens its bloodied maw. He's face to face with rows upon rows of mismatched teeth, a dozen tongues lolling out and flicking the same dark substance on his helmet.

“Yuri!” James screams while you try to push yourself back into the room to grab his legs but Hobie yanks you away from the doors. Giving time for Yuri to replace you.

“Yuri, no! Get away!” Hobie yells as he holds you in place with his arms around you.

“James!” Yuri continues to push herself inside, prompting Ned to dive for her and pull her away but Yuri fights. “I've got his foot—!” As she says it, James' screams are cut abruptly. His blood dripping down on the floors, raining down on Yuri. “No!” Ned manages to pull her back enough but her arm is still taking hold of his limp leg. “I've got him—!”

Bang!

The doors suddenly shut on Yuri's arm, and her screams of sorrow are replaced with agonizing pain. The sound of muscle and bone being ripped apart from its sockets would haunt your dreams.

“Yuri! Oh god!” You crawl towards her while her shoulder sprays blood on your suit, “I've got you— oh fuck!” Your eyes fill with tears as your hand shakes around the bandage you're desperately trying to wrap around her wound. “Hobie!” With your cry, Hobie jumps to help, eyes wide with shock. “We need to stop the bleeding!”

He takes more bandages from your kit, pushing the cloth inside as she wails in pain. Ned cradles her in place, hand placed over her eyes as he shields her away from the sight.

The cockpit doors bang with every cry she lets out. You glance at it briefly, heart buzzing to the beat of the brute's knocking.

Once you've gotten your entire supply of bandages around her, Hobie inhales deeply. “We need to get back on board.” You and Ned nod while Yuri's sobs quiets down dangerously. “Help me get her up.” He sniffs as he stands up, “love, can you manage to cover us?”

You swallow down your fear. “Y-yeah, I think so.” He hands you the gun while he puts his arm under Yuri. She yelps, sobbing while she continues to bleed out. “She needs a lot of blood, Hobie.” You say while you put the gun strap over your shoulder.

“We'll get her some, don't worry.” The banging gets louder, “we might need to run. Yuri, which dock—”

“James…” She says in between sobs.

“I know, I know.” Ned calms her down with his hand wiping away at her blood soaked helmet. “We'll get him once you're alright, okay? For now, which dock, Yuri?”

“T–thirteen, near medical.” She gasps out before her head lays on Hobie's chest.

The three of you look at your right, opposite of the way you came from. “Alright, no time to lose.” He fixes his hold on Yuri, earning a staggered exhale from her. “Hold on for us, Yuri.”

Ned guides you all throughout the hallway while you can hear the banging echoing from behind. You take the rear, gun at the ready even though you aren't.

“Just a few more minutes, Yuri!” Ned yells from up front, numerous boots clanging against the metal floors.

You keep running despite your lungs heaving out. Checking your weapon's ammo, you glance at the floor to find the rest of commander Andy's team laying on the ground with numerous parts of their bodies missing.

“Fuck! This is fucked!” Ned screams but he keeps running.

The team turns a corner, that's when the lights flicker into the same shade as the bloody floors. The identical alarms ring from the cockpit, filling the entire hallway with blue fog. Your vision fills with a rainbow of light briefly.

It's here.

“Keep running!” You yell as you hear its heavy footfalls behind you. Hobie spares you a worried glance, “I'm fine, Hobie, keep going!”

You can see dock thirteen in the distance.

There's a new set of footsteps running in the halls.

“Who the fuck is that?!” Ned shouts, pointing ahead of him where a couple of strangers are running towards the dock. “Oi, no!”

They get there before you, sporting a similar suit like yours. But they don't wait for you as they open the dock hatch.

“Wait!” You point the gun at them as a warning. “Please!”

They look like they're arguing, but once they see the creature stalking right behind you, they don't stop to wait. With a frantic hand they shut the hatch close without your team making it inside your ship.

“Motherfucker!” Hobie yells, body hitting the glass hatch from his running momentum. Ned tries to open the doors with the panel to the side, but it beeps, error code reflecting on his helmet. “Open the fucking door!”

You look behind you, seeing the mass of flesh running towards you sloppily, body hitting the sides of the hallway as it gasps a gravelly voice.

“Yuri!” It says in James' voice, and you immediately aim, rifle powering up for a second before you shoot at its legs.

It staggers back as you hit its enormous knee caps in a shatter of bone and blood. You keep shooting, its skin tearing off from the bullets.

“I'm sorry!” The people on the other side say as they get into the ship, leaving you all behind. You can hear Hobie's console warning you of your shared ship undocking.

“Fuckers!” Ned punches the glass as it cracks under his fist.

“We need to go!” Hobie shouts above the rain of gunfire. He yells your name, and you immediately feel someone's hand grip the belt of your suit to pull you away.

Twisting around, you follow your team out of the hallway as you hear the deep rumble of the organism’s footsteps. Without looking back, you hear the shatter of glass and your ship's alarm systems kicking in. It got in, but the airlock already went back in place with a hiss, reminding you that the two strangers have left you all to die in this dying piece of scrap metal with an unknown creature.

—

Ned locks the med bay doors behind him while you and Hobie pause for a second to gawp at the mess of skin and muscle on the operating table.

“What the fuck is that?” Hobie waits for you to answer.

The body is barely recognizable as a human being. Its skeletal structure is all over the place with its seven legs curled to its side in a fetal position, with ten arms embracing its legs. The bones are in deep crimson, as if the shade was painted on. The muscles look like it's melting away from its bones, dripping flesh into the metal table.

“I don't fucking know.” You say while Ned closes the shutters to the windows. “Put Yuri down over there, I'll find where they keep the blood.” Pointing at an empty metal table, you set off to find some blood, or at least a transfusion kit. You remember Ned is an O negative, meaning he can give to Yuri.

Shuffling quickly around the room while Hobie sets Yuri down, you fling numerous cabinets open in hopes to find something, anything to help her instead of just bandages.

Hobie calls for you, his tone soft and sullen. “Love,” he cries out for you again. “Love.”

With one last cabinet to open, you finally find bags upon bags of blood stored inside. “I found it!” You smile, grabbing an armful of blood bags. Turning around, your smile falters when you see Ned sobbing while holding Yuri's hand. Hobie shakes his head, eyes filled with tears. A tear falls down your cheeks, you refuse to let it be. “I found the blood, Hobie, help me with—” you step forward, Hobie quickly embraces you, “she needs them!” muffling your cries as he holds you against his chest while bags of blood fall on your feet.

He cradles you in place as your legs give out from under you. “‘m sorry, love.” Leaning on the cabinets, he lets you hide yourself in his neck, letting your cries reverberate through him as he puts his head atop your shoulder, arms around your body and cradling you back and forth.

—

You've said your goodbyes to Yuri and James, but the shock still hasn't worn off from your bodies. The team, or what's left of you, sit on the cold floors, helmets off for now, backs leaning against the cabinets as the three of you stare off into space wordlessly.

“I'm gonna miss their arguing.” Ned cuts off the heavy silence. “I'm already missing Yuri's coffee, and James' parfait.”

“Or you could just be hungry, mate.” Hobie jokes, hand reaching on top of Ned’s head. Wiggling him gently while Ned smiles softly.

“I'll miss James' hugs, and the way Yuri haggles the prices on the black market.” You smile faintly, avoiding looking at her body covered by a fire blanket. “I remember when she managed to get the price of fuel down to only three hundred credits when it was supposed to be six hundred.”

“Remember when we had to pull her away from a bar fight?” Hobie turns to you, head placed on your shoulder with lips briefly kissing you. He wishes that the suit wasn't there. “While we were tryin’ to not get her arrested, James jumped in to join the fight. We ended up stayin’ a night in jail.” He chuckles, and you soon follow after with your gentle laughter.

Ned joins in, laughing that quickly turns into sniffles. “Yeah, I'll m–miss them.”

You slither your hand behind Hobie to pat Ned’s shoulder. “They were the best.”

“The pods.” Hobie suddenly says, perking up from your shoulder.

“Mate, this is no time to worry about the shit we stole.”

“Not that pod. The escape pods, every ship has ‘em. If we get the power goin' we can get out of ‘ere.”

Ned checks his console for the ship's map. “Says here that there are escape pods left in the ship.” He pinches his fingers, zooming in on the map. “And there's also some sort of executive panic room in case of an uprising inside the ship.” He hisses, “but we both need admin clearance and the power back on to open them.”

“Then let's find someone to open it for us. And open the lights back on.” Hobie thumps his head against the cabinet. “Fuckin' easy, eh?”

You chuckle, nuzzling your face on his bicep, “we need a miracle to pull it off.”

He bumps his head atop yours. “That's quitter talk, lovie.” A gentle smile appears on your lips, eyes glinting under the flashlights. “But I know that look, you've got a plan, don't you?”

“A half of a plan.” You pat his cheek affectionately before standing up. “We're surrounded by medical supplies, and that includes anesthesia. Lots of them.” Walking towards a glass cabinet filled with green vials, you open the door quietly, plucking a single vial from its place. “We may not be able to kill it with what we have, but we can paralyze it to give us enough time to chop off one of its hands.”

Ned's eyes widen in realization. “To get admin access.” He stands up, joining your side. “I saw its gigantic hand too, there’s dozens of fingers on there, one is bound to be from someone who has the credentials.”

“That plan is bonkers enough that it might work.” Hobie joins in with a groan, stretching his neck from side to side. “We’ll load up the rifle with your concoction, and one of you chops it off.” He glances at you with a look of admiration. “Good on you, love.” His hand cups your elbow, squeezing once before letting go.

“We just need to turn on the power then we'll head off to— wait, the escape pods or the panic room?” Ned asks the two of you, fingers flying to his console, pulling up the ship's map, flicking away an image of the center of the ship where he previously wanted to go before everything happened. You'll never know what lies there. “According to the map, they're near each other.”

“The panic room could give us enough time to wait it out for a ship to come along and rescue us, and maybe wait until the beast starves and dies. From what I've heard of rooms like this…” Hobie points at the dotted line on the screen where the room lays. “They have enough supplies to last the blood sucking executives two years inside the room.”

“And the pods could grant us a quick escape, but ships as old as this one are wonky at best. There's a chance that the built in autopilot won't even work.” You add.

“But a chance that it could.” Ned sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We've got enough time to figure it out later, for now we need to get ready, make sure that we don't fuck up our one chance.” He closes his eyes, breath stuck in his throat. “For them.”

You glance at Yuri's body, Hobie follows your gaze, immediately reaching for your hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “For them.”

—

Everything has been set in place, you've mixed at least three magazines worth of ammo with paralyzing agents that could bring down two elephants with one bullet. Or kill an adult human with just a graze from it. Good thing Hobie didn't pinch pennies to buy an old shitty gun but instead he got one that could be loaded with different cartridges. The bright green substance sloshes from side to side as you carefully load it in the remaining rifle and your pistol.

Hobie has armed himself with an ax he took from the fire emergency kit on the wall. He weighs it in his hands, eyes darting towards you and Ned.

“Change of plans, I'll do the cuttin’”

“I thought that was my job?” You ask, chest tightening with worry.

“I don't want either of you gettin' that close to it.” He places it on his belt, securing it with velcro. His suit is now matted with dried blood, you try not to think about it.

You close the distance towards him while Ned wordlessly shakes his head from the corner of your eyes. “At least take this with you, I know that there's no arguing with you, captain.” Handing him your pistol, you don't wait for him to take it, knowing that he will refuse it. Instead you place it on his holster after taking his own pistol to replace the bullets with the paralyzing serum. “This one is for Ned, I'll take the rifle.”

“Love—”

“You can't do everything all at once, Hobie.” You grab his helmet from the counter, placing on his head gently as you turn it until it's secured in place. Tapping the glass, you smile at him sweetly. “Let us help you, okay? We're a team, remember?” You glance at Ned.

“Hey, don't look at me, I'm all in favour of not getting close to it.” He shrugs, chuckling softly.

Hobie grasps your chin carefully with his gloved hand, corner of his lips curling into a tender smile. His eyes hide all his fears, an image of you laying in your pool of blood with Ned's body right next to yours.. “I remember, I just don't want to lose any more of my team.” He should've listened to you and left before everything turned to shit.

“You won't.” You say, palm placed over his heart, wishing the suit wasn't there to feel his heartbeat. “We're not planning on leaving you all alone, Hobie.”

“Hear, hear.” Ned clasps his hands together impatiently. “Can we load up my pistol before you two start snogging right in front of me? We don't have HR remember?”

Hobie chuckles, punching Ned's shoulder lightly. “After this you can send your complains to HR all you want.” He says as he points towards the trash can in the corner.

Your giggles softly echo above their banter while you load Ned's gun. You could only hope everything goes to plan. You don't want to lose either of them. They're what remains of your family and Yuri and James' memory. You want them back but you have to save the ones you still can no matter how much your heart aches for the ones who were lost.

—

The three of you walk silently through the halls, passing by dismembered bodies, coagulated blood sticking to the floors, and the beast's waste laying amongst the dead. You didn't know them, but you no one deserves such a fate.

The hallways are still drenched in darkness, this time it's filled with bodies with limbs all over. You try not to move your flashlight towards the dead in respect for them. Your heart thrums in your ears as Ned leads the way this time towards the power supply room. Hobie walks behind you, ax at the ready, eyes trained to watch out for any sudden movements.

You inhale sharply, trying to even out your staggered breathing which Hobie immediately notices. With a warm hand, he rubs his palm on your back, silently easing you.

Without a word, you reach for his hand atop your shoulder, patting it a few times and placing it over your helmet in a ‘kiss’. Hobie squeezes back before returning his hand to the heavy ax.

You finally make it to the front of the supply room. Its large double steel doors loom over you, the warning signs plastered right next to it take your attention. Highlighting all of your nerves even more.

Ned opens the door, using the same access codes he nicked from the droid just a few hours ago. To think that in a little over three hours your team was still complete, the crimson spider still had its crew and you still had your entire family with you. You should've fought harder to get back on the ship after taking the cryo pods. If you held your ground, told them about your gut instinct telling you to leave. Hell even threw a tantrum just for them to agree with you, the entire team would've been on the ship on your way back home to buy the life you've always wanted. Not stalking the halls of a dead space ship with a killer alien out for your blood.

At least Hobie and Ned are with you. You think you wouldn't have survived this long without them.

With a mechanical hiss, the doors open ever so slowly. The first thing you see under your flashlight is the water inside that sloshes with every creak and groan of the ship.

“What the fuck?” Hobie beats you to it, shining his torch all over the flooded room. The water laps gently at the small staircase further leading down to the room, as far as you can see, the entire place is filled with dark near stagnant water. It rises to the half of the iron coils connected together, good thing the power's off or else it could electrocute you.

Ned raises his light towards the ceiling, seeing a huge hole from it with water leaking down. “Fuck, that's coming from the quarters.”

“That's toilet water.” You grimace, glad that you have your helmet on so you can't smell the nasty water.

Hobie roams his light towards the middle, finding the large console with a lever that was similar to an older ship's power supply that you and Hobie were flying in before you two upgraded to the crimson spider. The bright blue fuel inside the cannisters shimmers in the light, still full as if someone just refueled the ship. The power core looks to be unscathed, James would've been thrilled.

“There.” Hobie sighs, “we need to trudge the water.” He curses under his breath, “I remember this type of supply has the initial surge of power before levelin’ out. We need a rope to tie it around the lever and pull once we're out of the water. Or we'll turn into fish and chips.”

“I fucking hate this, god.” Ned groans but is already coming down the slippery stairs. “Watch your step.”

Hobie lets you go first, ax in hand and takes one last look around before following you. The doors close behind him as the heavy water parts before you. It's cold over your suit, a kind of biting cold that shivers through your spine. Not even the thermal lining in your suit keeps it out.

Hobie sees your uncomfortable posture as you go further into the water until it reaches up to your waist. “Just a few minutes, love, this is nothin' compared to winters back home.”

“Y–yeah,” you shiver. “but this time there's no hot cocoa waiting at the end.”

“We get out of here and I'll drown you in hot cocoa.” Ned tinkers with his console. “Damn it, my screen’s wet.”

“Not a good way to say that you'll drown me while we're wading through waist deep water, Ned—”

The sound of an audio recording suddenly cackles to life, and Harry's voice echoes around the quiet room. “Log 15, I've figured out what attracts it.” He huffs in the recording, and there's some shuffling in the background. But you feel a sudden tugging at your leg, looking down and shining your light on it, you find that one of the metal coils has snagged into your suit. With every pull, it rips into the suit even more. Hobie helps you with his hand pulling at your leg to the opposite side, but with your impatience and nerves, you pull too hard, causing the sharp metal to scratch your skin, leaving a rip on your leg as you bleed into the water.

“Fuck.” You clench your teeth, holding onto Hobie for support from the sudden rush of cold water entering your suit and the ache from the wound.

“We just need to get you out of the water—”

“Blood.” Harry from the recording continues, “fresh ones. I don't know why but it seems to like it. Maybe because it's warm, but I'm no scientist. So if you're bleeding, put a cork in it immediately, if not, run for your life.”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, meeting your eyes with Hobie's wide ones. “Hobie—!”

The sudden trilling sound filters through the hallway outside, and its guttural shriek sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck! Go!” He gestures for you and Ned to run in the water, there's no going back where you came from since you're already a quarter away from the lever. You just need to push through.

The water makes waves as you move as fast as you can. Ned gets to the lever first, leaving you and Hobie to wade through it.

Ned points at another exit just to the side of the room with another staircase leading up to it. “Go! I'll tie the rope!”

“Ned, we ain't leavin’ you!” Hobie gets to his side, hands shaking at his oldest friend's shoulder.

“Go! The thing is following Y/N, not me!”

“But—!” You start.

“Just fucking go, captain!” His sad eyes flick over to you. “I can manage myself.”

The doors where you came from bursts open, metal shutters flying down into the freezing water with a splash. “Water!” It roars in its many voices.

“Fuck!” Ned pushes you and Hobie towards the other exit, body shimmying behind the console, hiding himself from view while the creature trudges the waters.

Hobie grabs you by the armpits, half carrying you towards the door while the water splashes all around you.

Body drenched, you two make it towards the door, opening it manually with a strong push. You step out onto the dry floor with Hobie right next to you. Once you turn around to face the being, you take your rifle from your back to aim directly at it. Hobie's hands grip the ax tight as he sees it ignore Ned and heading right towards your form with its large gangly form of stolen limbs.

“Now, love!” He yells as you don't waste time by shooting at it. The rifle didn't take a second to power up completely, once the gun beeps, your ammo hits its chest.

The sound of gunfire reverberates around you, muzzle flash painting the whole room in flashing light.

It staggers forwards, groaning and warbling but it still continues to grasp at you desperately. Hobie readies his ax, raising it above his head while you reload another round of the paralyzing serum. Ned sees a long arm snaking towards your foot, and as you see it headed for you, you snap your eyes towards Ned, who's smiling kindly at you. Mouthing words that you can't quite decipher while his hand is placed around the lever before pulling it down.

“No!” The sudden bright sparks burns your eyes, staggering you backwards as it blinds you for a moment. The beast wails, but you can't hear Ned anymore. Then you see it, the same rainbow of light flitting across your vision. It floats into a circle until it speeds up, as fast as it came, it flickers into a steady circle of light. Blinking it away with tears trapped in your eyes, you find Hobie clutching his eyes right next to you, one hand trying to find you. Meeting him halfway, you squeeze his hand and he falls limp. “I'm okay, Hobie. Are you—?”

“Ned!” He cries out, legs tucked underneath him as he slouches on the floor in a fetal position. “Fuck!” Banging on the floor, he inches his hands towards the fallen ax above him.

“Hobie.” You cry for him, hands tugging at his suit as he stands up. You refuse to look at Ned's floating body in the water. “I'll do it, please sit back down.” You're still trying to blink away the light.

He clenches his jaw, eyes brimming with fire. “no, I'll do it.” Walking towards the long arm that was reaching out to you, it has stopped right at the top of the stairs where it's dry. Looking at Ned as he raises the weapon, he chops it off with a furious yell.

Blood gushes out of it like a fountain of gore, splashing Hobie in streaks of rubies. The hand cuts without much resistance. He drags the large hand that is the size of your torso, the skin is burnt and almost charred as welts pop on its skin, he drops it to the side as he falls on his knees, catching him before he gets hurt. You gather him on your lap for a moment, fingers digging to your side but not for a second longer as the creature seizes up, slowly waking up.

Hobie moves away, eyes turned towards the hand. “We need to move.” You stand up first, reaching out for a helping hand. He looks up at you with tears clinging onto his lashes. “Love?” He asks as he takes your hand.

“Y–yeah?” You sniff away the tears.

“We should've left.”

“We can leave now, Hobie.” Lifting him up, you place your helmet upon his own. Closing your eyes for a second before pulling away. “C’mon, let's go home.”

—

You two make your way out wordlessly. The rifle in your hands weighs heavier, the wound on your leg has stopped bleeding, but the ache persists. Hobie walks next to you with the bloody ax swinging on his hip. The large hand he's carrying makes him smaller under the now whirring lights of the ship.

Ned did it, he opened the power back on the entire ship. You can now open the previous restricted doors. Add that with the hand, there's probably at least one finger in there that has the admin clearance to open either the escape pods or the panic room.

“Love.” Hobie's boots squeak as he stops. You follow his line of sight with your tired eyes. “Where to?”

You have found yourself at a crossroads, a fork in the road with two converging hallways leading to different outcomes. Which one will it be? Your choice determines your fate and Hobie's.

The creature roars behind you. Calling you by your name.

The Escape Pods.

The Panic Room.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @the-shroom-garden

A/N: please consider reblogging if you liked this! ❤️❤️❤️

[omegalomania]

people bitching and moaning about fob "turning mainstream" as if that was never the entire point of fall out boy. that's In the goddamn dna of the band, it's baked into the ethos of why the band started in the first damn place. to be accessible to kids and especially to girls, who were often ridiculed and shunted out of the hardcore community. to be a gateway to bands that aren't as mainstream. to comment on the society they live in, as they live in it. people act like fall out boy "turning mainstream" was some kind of "betrayal" when from the start they were seizing on the trends of the time, putting their unique, unhinged fall out boy spin on them, and shooting them back out as a funhouse mirror. take this to your grave capitalized on the pop-punk zeitgeist that was big in the late 90s and early aughts and put their own spin on it: enmeshed catchy choruses with high-dexterity lyrical & linguistic skewerwork. infinity on high was basically a massive critique of the scene they were in - this ain't a scene it's a goddamn arm's race is a fucking thesis statement on what it is to be catapulted into fame in an industry that wants nothing more than a thousand cookie-cutter copycat acts of a successful formula, and fall out boy WAS the formula everyone desperately wanted to emulate. american beauty / american psycho blended sampling and modern hip-hop stylings with polished pop-rock and pointed those songs back at the snapshot of the 2010s we all lived in: commenting on racial injustice and the freeze-frame nature of relevancy. but even then they weren't doing it quite right - because fall out boy never does things quite right, they're never quite conventional, whether it's wentz's darkly confessional lyrics double-bagged in metaphor or stump's distinctive clear tenor or trohman's inescapable rock 'n roll edge or hurley's thunderous hardcore-punk-rock soul.

this band has always been too clever for its own critics, is the thing. but then, they always knew that. they knew they had a thriving fanbase of largely female fans so they were going to be mocked and belittled and ridiculed. they weren't quite right. they weren't quite so easy to market. pete wentz had to have all his hard edges filed off and cut down to size, skin lightened, literally whitewashed ("i feel like a photo that's been overexposed") to hell and back, even as he was marketed as the pretty boy of the band. and the other three members never even bothered with the spotlight: the soft-spoken vegan straightedge anarchist drummer and the wry, wisecracking, whip-clever guitarist who was more concerned with being the connective tissue than anything and the reticent vocalist who sang the words and wrote an awful lot of music but wasn't really the guy fronting the band. wentz's charisma carried the band, because the rest of them were really just some guys and never aspired to be anything else.

fall out boy is too pop. fall out boy is too mainstream. fall out boy isn't the real poster child of the emo movement. other bands are better. even within fall out boy's own narrative, they are repeatedly ignored, sidelined, and belittled, as though they weren't one of the only acts from the big 00s emo-pop movement to successfully not just survive the transition from the aughts to the '10s, and then later from the '10s to the '20s, but to thrive in it without banking on nostalgia. this band was supposed to be a flash in the pan. they weren't supposed to last and they weren't supposed to get big. they started off in joe's parents' attic because joe and pete were sick of how exclusionary and homophobic the hardcore scene was.

i think it's high time that people acknowledge how fall out boy has repeatedly succeeded where most of their other peers failed. cunning, clever, capable, and hyper-aware of the space they occupy in the culture surrounding them. that they are just as powerful, important, and artistic as any of the other bands in the scene that others might deify at their expense. that they deserve a hell of a lot more respect than they get from critics or hardcore punks who think they sold out. i hope one day they get that recognition. because they've earned it, time and time again, and the more i see people pushing back against that, the more certain i become of its inevitability.

[thetallowman]

Note time.

We start with some diagrams and symbology stuff, but we also (finally) get the "Forest Ribbon Trail" description, which also touches on the realms Maricica talked about. It talks in terms of graveyards, labelling the Abyss as the destination of physical things, the Ruins as the end point of the immaterial, and the Warrens and Courts as the resting grounds of malices and dreams. The Paths, apparently, surround all the rest, closest to and in most contact with "Oblivion." They are apparently not the dream realm (implying that that is a separate thing?), and not quite any of the aforementioned areas, but rather "where things lost to [them] go." (To fall back on the Drains as an example, if the Abyss is like a sewer, where reality puts the bits it doesn't want, then it sounds like the Paths would be the metaphorical ocean that the system eventually empties out into.)

They're still distinct places, with their own rules and creatures, though they can apparently appear differently to different people. The Forest Ribbon Trail is apparently a "beginner" zone, for as much as that's worth in the Otherverse.

There's a ritual to entering the Trail. Prey animal, bound in ribbon, with different effects for different animals. The implication is that the animal doesn't come back, one way or another, though it's unclear if that's deliberate. (Is it a sacrifice, like with things of value and the Abyss? Or is it more of a guide - something you can kick off the metaphorical cliff into nothingness without consigning yourself? It mentions that you can Lost - capital L - and that the animal can save you from that, so maybe it's more like a backup parachute?)

The actual ritual involves a circle and a poem (open to modification) around the animal, and bindings and an incantation (also open to modification) around yourself. (It's interesting that the formulas seem so flexible. Combine that with the role-filling animals, and a Wolf in the role of antagonist, and I'm getting some strong fairytale vibes. Maybe detail is eroded and scarce that far down, so close to nonexistence, and the forces that dwell there are happy to fall into whatever framework you bring with you?)

[chaoticgoodthief]

More STP Thoughts

So I did this thing earlier but now I'm thinking... There's games that the voices would play... but then there's something else that I can't stop thinking about. What would be the most interesting game characters for the voices to be? Say that after the Construct shatters, they're all thrown into being their own Player Character of different games.

Contrarian is probably the easiest in my mind. Stanley from The Stanley Parable, same as he would probably enjoy playing. It's a game in which he is in a constant loop of disobeying the whims of an angry British Narrator with a capital N who has very strong opinions on what the correct path is. And would be fun to try pull him out of there, because I'd bet my life savings that the Narrator would guilt-trip him about it. And *eyes my TSP ships* it might get a bit... awkward.

Opportunist, a voice that I didn't have any clue what to do with before but now have the perfect idea. Lamb from Cult of the Lamb. Manipulative, obeying a higher deity but ultimately self-serving, made a deal in exchange for his own freedom only to (potentially) disobey when his own life is at stake. Originally was planning for Broken in this role because of the whole Priest to a cruel god, but Opportunist just works better. A really inflated ego from defeating and enslaving a god plus things turning out extremely beneficial to him will make he really hard to convince to leave.

Cold... well, there are multiple options here. I'm not going with Flowey because I think he just doesn't have it in him to be that chirpy, even as an act. Although that would be funny for the other voices to deal with... Instead, I'm going to go with Batter from OFF. It's not as big of a game as the others, but I really think it works. Think Genocide Route Frisk, but there's no other choice but to kill everything. Wipe the world of any life at all, do whatever it takes to complete his task, no matter who has to die to achieve it. Getting him to stop trying to "purify" the voices for long enough to listen to them would be one of the hardest parts, but at least he can't attack during dialogue.

Paranoid is another one that I didn't really have any ideas on until lately. But now I have the Doorman from That's Not My Neighbor. Sure, there's a bit of a more Skeptic role with the whole question them until they reveal the truth, but I think it still works. I mean the whole Nightmares and distrust of what's real and what's fake... it was a tough choice but ultimately Paranoid works a bit better in a horror setting than Skeptic. And getting him out of there. Oh, I don't even know how the other voices will drag him out of his safe little office.

Smitten... Oh, Smitten I'm so sorry. The unnamed protagonist of Doki Doki Literature Club! Has good intentions (just falling in love with a girl), believes he's in a romance story until too late. I wouldn't be surprised if this scars him for life. I'm not sure if he would even make it to the end before breaking down completely. He doesn't even have Cold to do all the emotional repression for him. Even if he is probably the easiest to convince into leaving, getting him to even be responsive again would probably be a struggle.

Hero would probably be the one having to convince to others to leave, to be honest. Sorry buddy. Someone has to do it and I'm afraid you are just the best fit for the role. At least LQ might be there to help you. Might.

I'm not really familiar with any games that work well for the other voices so please let me know your thoughts if you have any ideas! The more painful the better 😈

Edit 1 (suggestion from an anon ask):

Broken as the protagonist from Do Not Take This Cat Home. Gosh, this was so perfect. The game is literally a metaphor for abusive relationships, he's trapped in a endless loop repeatedly meeting his abuser and dying by their whims. He's lonely, desperate, and just wanting a companion and to make that companion happy with him. Please take him out. He's going need to be dragged kicking and screaming because he is very likely not going to be able to get the good ending by himself.

Edit 2 (Another anon suggestion 😈):

Cheated as the player in Buckshot Roulette. Wow. A lot of the voices work really well in other indie horror games and Cheated is no different. There is nothing but the game. A Russian roulette game with multiple twists and changes, but at the end of the day that same back and forth of each one trying to win. Back and forth and back and forth. Trying to use new tricks to win the same game. One of them has to die. But no matter who does, neither truly wins. Will he even want to leave until the game is "over"? Probably not. Please drag him out, he's going mad trying to win a loser's game. I love this.

Edit 3 (More anon suggestions yay!!!):

Hunted as the Slugcat from Rain World. Literally trapped in an endless circle of death and rebirth, escaping getting eaten, killed by the elements, or starving to death. I've said about every single suggestion, but I honestly think this fits extremely well. There are even little changes to the story you can make dependent on which path you chose! (Monk, Survivor, Hunter). Will also probably attack whoever tries pull him out because cat > bird and I think that's funny so that's also a win :D

Edit 4 (Suggestion from @gallus-mundus):

Skeptic as the player from Exit 8. Hahahaha wow almost none of the voices actually left the horror genre, did they? But YES. This works so well for him. Sure, the deductions are very limited, but it's not really like he did that many in the game to be honest. His chronic overthinker ass is not beating the game (read: chaining yourself to the wall, you absolute dumbass). There's a time limit, even if he does manage to figure out the trick to escaping I really don't think he is going to make it out alone. At least he should be reasonably easy to convince to leave compared to the rest...

Edit 5

Stubborn as V1 from Ultrakill. Finally, another voice that escape the horror genre! Not a perfect fit, but pretty neat in my humble opinion. Literally running on bloodshed, a sense of duty/purpose to fight, but often also characterised as someone that enjoys the fight itself. And... *Side-eyes at Gabriel/V1* yeah, that type of relationship looks... familiar. Good luck getting him out of there, he's discovered the wonderous world of modern weaponry. (Alternatively, if he's taken out at the end of the game... yeah probably not in that good of an emotional state either.)

WOOOO YEAH FINALLY DONE!!! THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR HELP!!!

[eggplantlilly]

So, wow…I think I’m a little heartbroken over that ending guys..fhjy ramblings after the cut..

I truly didn’t think kipperlilly was that conniving..like I thought she hated the bad kids in a way that we knew would be wrong but under the lenses of modern high school bureaucracy would show that capitalism/standardized tests/student loan debt/etc. and the way people feel they have to tear each other down to succeed was the true enemy.

I thought that the party was influenced by the corrupted rage god or possibly aligned with whatever chess game sol and galicaea are playing, but that it’s their party, their friends, so of course they loved Lucy and of course they tried to make Buddy comfortable.

I thought that since kipperlilly hated Riz since freshman year, of course it was something small and silly ossified into something large and unyielding.

But as we get closer to the end and see more of the rat grinders I think I’m absolutely wrong. To sacrifice your own cleric? The betrayal of trust is unimaginable.

Current, galaxy brain, paranoid theories now:

We seem to be lining up multiple gods who fall in two tracks - sun/bounty (Sol, Ankarna, Helio) and dark/cold (Galicaea, Cassandra, Ruvina)

We’ve heard about the games they play in domains and the fact that no one wants to share..but also that so below so above, I think there is a human enacted and god enabled conspiracy by a pair of unnamed gods trying to streamline the domains. Think of the conflict in Galicaea.

I think they wanted Lucy to switch to be both a follower of warmth and cold and when they murdered her they only counted the dark and always planned on killing Buddy (the last stand just accelerated it) as a sacrifice.

I think at least some of them intentionally killed Lucy (new thought for me as I was sticking to my surely the rat grinders loved her as we love her)

For a while I thought they might be using the devil’s honey in the cloud machine for a large area effect but I can’t imagine the sheer amount of honey you’d need based on Gertie’s baklava comment.

Maybe it’s my background showing but I wanted Buddy to see the metaphorical light and become more nuanced. I wanted him to have the room to grow.

I think the devil’s honey is going to be used to make people think the Bad Kids killed him and that’s why there is the worry about Fig and Bobby Dawn.

For real though the rest of the battle? The Bad Kida at their finest! No one went down, they fought connected and inspired and like a well oiled machine. If kipperlilly saw that I hope she was rattled. I hope she saw them pass something literally no one has before and realize their accolades are not empty and she’s going to have to get up earlier in the morning to get them.

Beautiful episode though, the last stand really showed their experience in all the best ways and was just really enjoyable to watch!

[kamari333]

I just passed Chapter 51 of Burlesque and I gotta say....Im such a sucker for Red being bottom and taken care of so well and nice and WHY DO I WANT MORE OF HIM BEING LIKE THAT?!? YoU? MADE?ME?ADORE?HIM?BEING?BOTTOM?! And I will never go back , im ded, i was meant to praise and kneel at this masterpiece

You my friend are a fan of taste (if i do say so myself~)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I love me a good story where an Underfell Sans tops and doms and all that fun~ But listen. Listen.

Consider that Red's lived his whole life being the guy who needs to get shit done or everything falls apart. He's the metaphorical Top and Dom in his everyday life. He had to be. Meticulously controlling the world around him as best he could was what kept him and his lil brother alive when they were in a universe that was ruled by survival of the fittest.

And now he's out and topside and capitalism is its own kind of hell, but he doesn't have to fight and scrape like he used to. It's different. He can let go a little. Maybe. If he squints.

If he feels safe.

And his pets make him feel so safe.

Consider Red finally gets to feel safe and loved with people he can respect as partners. He doesn't have to be the tough guy 24/7 now, even if he still feels like it sometimes. He's learning to chill out and trust that the world isn't going to fall apart if he stops holding it.

Consider Red's never wanted to be the tough guy in the first place but he is so desperate about being seen as someone who is reliable and worthy that he's made himself That Guy. Consider that putting the That Guy mask down on demand is part of his love language.

Consider that bottoming for them, giving them control, uplifting them with everything he has, is how Red says "I Love You."

Anyway, I'm Totally Normal about Red/Dance/Lust (burlesque ship my beloved) and I'm so glad you get to be Totally Normal about them with me <3

[jacqcrisis]

I’ve had this idea stuck in my craw that I've been bothering collaborating with @clinic-crew of a BG3 modern AU, but by modern AU, I mean it’s the same fucking fantasy everything as baldur’s gate, but now the world is somewhat equivalent to the late 1980’s/early 1990’s. Cars are everywhere. Computers are happening. Capitalism and consumerism are tightening their grasp on the willing yet helpless public. Fantasy pacman is a thing.

The story centers around Caedis, the world’s worst police officer who also happens to be Bhaal’s flesh made manifest into a tiefling who looks like the devil and probably is him as well. Caedis is unnecessarily cruel, malevolent, sadistic, gleefully abusing every ounce of his power at every conceivable moment as he knows he’ll get away with it because half of the police force is his fellow Bhaalists and also he and the high-ranking politician Gortash are in both metaphorical and literal bed together. They have a plan to essentially seize control of the city’s government through an infiltration of the police force, the introduction of the Steel Watch, targeted assassinations of Gortash’s political opponents, and a bunch of other gears that are already in motion.

Life for Caedis is great. He lives in a miasma of Bhaal approval, can do whatever the fuck he wants, and the second this plan all comes together, he’s going to murder Gortash and raze the city in the name of dear old daddy. Things could not be going better.

And then he fucks a vampire against his police car when he’s supposed to be aiding in burning down the Szarr Palace to take out another one of Gortash’s political opponents and a series of dominoes fall down from there. This ends in a coup where Orin, jealous of daddy’s approval and mad at her brother-uncle once again ignoring responsibilities to go be The Worst, ambushes him en route to Gortash’s estate, shoots him in the head with an enchanted gun, and leaves him for dead in a ditch.

Eighteen hours later, Caedis wakes up covered in dirt as the last vestiges of a dream consisting of a gold laden ghoul with a book and quill asking him ‘what is the worth of single mortal life’ fades from his mind's eye. He’s alive. The fog of Bhaal’s influence is gone for the first time since he was a child and there’s only one thing that’s crystal clear in his fucked up brain now:

He’s got to go fucking murder Orin.

What happens next in a tale as old as time: Murder Man Mcstabface has to go obtain a crew and a fuckload of magical weapons to stand a chance against Orin as he slowly regains his semblance of humanity under the extreme guilt and despair at his horrible actions now allowed to manifest in his brain post-bulletfication while also fighting the Urges that keep cropping up. He makes friends with people… somehow. He becomes a person. He regrets and wants to stop this evil plan he secretly put into motion.

He falls in love with the vampire he inexplicably saved from being burned alive in the Szarr Palace by fucking him against his car with whom he has an extremely fucked up relationship with and who he desperately wants to kill.

It’s a lot. There’s a lot more. But that’s the long and the short of it. If I knew how to write it, I would cause it’s stuck in my brain and I need this horrible, angry, emotionally stunted durge man to not be in my brain anymore.

[crimeronan]

hi I saw you posting about the silt verses. it sounds interesting so I googled it but I'd like to hear what You have to say about it!!

(I'd also like to ask if it has any emphasis on bug-related horror bc that's a huge no from me, but if it doesn't I think I'll take a listen)

oh lord i have So Much to say about it. asking me what i have to say about the silt verses is like asking me what i have to say about call down the hawk or the owl house, like. it's a piece of media that is so immaculately conceived and well-executed that i can meta about Literally Every Single Line. if you've followed me for a while you probably know that i have high standards for horror media bc it's my most-consumed comfort genre; the silt verses is my fave piece of horror media Of All Time.

as for bugs, they don't play a huge role in the overarching story, but i do FOR SURE remember some imagery about parasites, insects, and people being transformed into bug-like creatures. so i'd look up episode warnings prior to consuming it, i can't remember off the top of my head which episodes specifically involve that.

the silt verses is, on the surface, a typical horror story about another world where gods are created through belief & fed through sacrifice. different gods have attracted cult followings, some gods are outlawed, some are not. it's stuff you've probably seen before if you're an avid supernatural horror fan.

however the writers then take the time to do absolutely Vicious and Scathing social commentary about pretty much every leftist topic you can think of. cult abuse, late-stage capitalism, corporate "we're all a family" speak, war, fascism, the creation of Unpersons with unhoused and mentally ill populations, prison violence, police violence, copaganda, generational trauma, environmental catastrophe, rural vs city mindsets and the political manipulation behind them..... Every Single Plot Point and piece of imagery serves a social commentary purpose. every single god and political movement is a transparent metaphor or allegory for our own world.

but what really keeps me coming back to it are the character arcs. from a horror writer's perspective, i can see exactly how carefully those arcs were sketched and plotted out. each of the narrators is dynamic and goes through a huge amount of character development -- positive for some, Horrifically Negative for others. characters are frequently caught between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between two things they've always wanted...... and they also frequently choose Wrong.

and then they have to live with the consequences of those choices.

the protags are all messy and flawed and complicated, the antags are all messy and grounded and Very Real, and the relationships between people grow in organic ways that make me go MMM... before falling apart in equally organic ways. if you've ever enjoyed the same kind of desperate codependent and messy relationships that i most often write, HOO BOY you will have a good time with this podcast.

and if you like stories about people who are Genuinely Trying Their Best In The Face Of Impossible Circumstances, you'll ALSO get a lot of mileage out of this. it's a show where people make a lot of terrible decisions but also, people care So So So So So Fucking Much. really hits that sweet spot between nihilistic "everyone sucks" media and saccharine "everyone is always good at heart, all the time" media.

it also features some of the most stunning voice acting i've ever heard, not just in podcasts but in any media, ever. méabh de brún, b. narr, jimmie yamaguchi, and lucille valentine in particular all fucking KILL IT. like DAMN

and i can wholeheartedly recommend it without adding this, but if it's important to you: like 98% of the characters are queer. lots of trans cast members, lots of gay relationships, ace rep, los jibbities who get to be just as Fucking Terrible and embarrassing and hopeless as the characters in my fave White Man (TM) tv shows. u know how it is. i want queer people who are shitty bitches, always. and the silt verses DELIVERS

it's just. really good. i realize that this doesn't even get into the intricacies of who the characters are and what they want and what happens, bc like i said, i can talk about this show for a novel's length of meta. but these are the broad strokes of what has me in love with the narrative. it's So Good.

[cringefailvox]

Hello! Fanfic questions! Numbers 15, 26, and 27 for the meteor shower series :D

meteor shower

15. talk about the characters' struggles and how you decided on those.

HOO BOY.

rosie: rosie struggles a lot with Wants To Fix People syndrome that is not helped by her self-awareness about it. she's a meddler, an enabler and a nosy bitch, and these traits lend themselves pretty easily to self-recrimination when she fails to steer a situation in the direction she wanted it to go. she gives herself grace, but she definitely feels responsible for vox and alastor since she introduced them, and since their falling out puts her directly in the middle, she's thrust into the role of mediator, however incidentally. she misses her boys and she wants that closeness back! but she has to come to terms with the fact that while she can try her best, at a certain point, the impetus falls on them to actually listen when she speaks, and it's not her fault that she can't fix everything. girl they need to be making this up to YOU.

vox: anxious attachment issues + rejection sensitive dysphoria + superiority complex + greedy bastard who gets off on exploiting vulnerable people, doesn't understand why his vigilante punitive justice besties hate capitalism when it's so fun + in crippling unrequited love with the radio demon = messy bitch activities. please pick a struggle

alastor: my guy is in the g-ddamn trenches in this series, rip. lots of stuff is wrong with him but in particular, the second installment highlights his struggles with amatonormativity and abandonment issues when he's briefly convinced rosie & vox don't need him anymore now that they're dating (they're not; he's delusional). he struggles a lot with his aroaceness, mostly because he doesn't think he's broken but he does feel bitter and resentful about the prioritization of romance over friendship, and DITITS is just one long relationship anarchy angst fest bc he's so meirl.

26. share your favorite detail(s).

from time has changed the metaphor: i've mentioned this before, but the parallels of rosie calming vox down from a panic attack after the radiostatic divorce / vox calming alastor down from a panic attack after the fight with adam in the exact same way <3

from dragging its tail in the sea: the running joke about the changing painting in alastor's room at cannibal town, because it still makes me giggle every time i re-read it

27. share a piece of lore you made up for the story.

all the little bits about alastor's deal!! i'm a roo truther in my heart and i loved peppering in all the hints and motifs about the eyes, alastor being bound to silence, the idea that she only approached him with a deal when he was at his very lowest + after decades of inflicting low-key psychological torture on him -- oh yeah, delicious. i don't have any concrete ideas about this but i did very much enjoy crafting the Implications

[the-haunted-office]

September had only just found herself in the strange dimension full of rainbow swirling clouds, staircases with Thursdays walking them, and no gravity, when the metaphorical shit hit the metaphysical fan.

She had barely even gotten to orient herself when it all went down - somehow literally and not literally at the same time, as this place was sort of like the In-between in that it had no real sense of up and down, so at least she was used to that much.

Oleander was floating around in the gelatinous mass of her, buzzing away at her through their currently chosen vessel - i.e. her mobile phone - doing this combination of yelling at her for her earlier remark and drilling her with question after question about what she was seeing, where they were, what was happening, had she found Thursday yet.

She had only just scrabbled onto the nearest surface with all seventeen of her arms and legs, which turned out to be this incredibly - if not infinitely - long (or tall, depending on which way you looked at it) brick tower and started climbing it in search of Thursday, when the whole thing shook. Like someone had grabbed it and rattled it like a toy, only she couldn't see who might have done it.

She'd grabbed onto it, all arms and legs wrapping tightly against it and claws digging into the stone, anchoring her, worried she might fall, even knowing she wouldn't because she'd already discovered there was no gravity.

Oleander had begun screaming at her - she knew this even though they had no voice because their messages were coming through her phone in all capital letters. WHAT WAS THAT! WHAT HAPPENED?! SEPTEMBER, WHAT IS GOING ON?! TALK TO ME NOW! WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING ME! I WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING! DID YOU FIND HER?

She couldn't even focus on responding to them, even though some of her eyes floating around in there with Oleander were reading their messages for her, because she was too focused not only on holding onto the swaying tower, but also on what was happening up above. Or below. Or- whichever direction she was facing.

It was so far away that at first she couldn't really tell what she was seeing. But then, as whatever it was she was seeing began to get closer- no, bigger- no, closer?- no, just... more of itself? she couldn't tell, it was impossible, it was just- filling the world- whatever it was she was seeing began to fill her world and the world around her and she didn't know how to describe it. She was seeing it, she was seeing it with all of her eyes, and she couldn't describe it.

It was like... if she had to put some words to it... colors. Unimaginable colors, and unknowable shapes, all bending in on themselves, then refracting, twisting, bending, expanding, contracting, curling, unfurling, stretching out, reaching, filling, seeping, creeping, contorting, winding, twirling, whirling, spiraling. Endlessly. It had no end. It had no beginning. It just kept going. As long as she kept looking, it kept going, and it was both... somehow both... maddening and soothing. So many contradictions, she didn't know if she could stand it.

Apparently she couldn't, because at some point she'd either let go of the tower. Either she had let go of it or it had crumbled to pieces and let go of her. Either way, she was falling away from it. Despite there being no gravity, she was falling away from the tower, falling, falling, falling, her eyes, all of them, glued to that maddening, beautiful thing she couldn't look away from, filling her world, Oleander still screaming at her in all caps-

SEPTEMBER ANSWER ME ANSWER ME TALK TO ME WHAT IS GOING ON PLEASE TELL ME SOMETHING

-and then with an unceremonious splop! she lands back on the floor of the Office, apparently on top of Doomsday, because she immediately begins flailing beneath her and complaining.

But September doesn't notice. For several seconds she doesn't notice, because her eyes are still staring, still seeing that thing, filling her world, filling the whole world, spiraling everywhere.

[episodeoftv]

Round 1 of 8, Group 7 of 8

propaganda and summaries are under the cut (May include spoilers)

Kamen Rider OOO: 1.20 The Decoy, Quantification, and the Flaming Combo

tw Eiji gets dangled off a cliff (different from the second episode where he dangled himself off a cliff so Ankh wouldn't needlessly endanger people's lives), and Ankh gives death threats pretty lightly, because he's a monster made from human desires

After being abandoned by Ankh desiring the return of one of his Core Medals from Kazari, Eiji is found by the cowardly hoodlum Yasu while he continues to ponder if his partner can really be trusted.

First appearance of TaJaDor (fire bird combination), which is the best one in the show. Eiji uses Ankh's power fully, for the first time. And everyone is watching him fight the lionfish (half lion half jellyfish) Yummy monster. The monsters are made from giving form to the desires of random people, but only Greeed (misspelling intentional), including Ankh, can do so. Ankh doesn't do this, because he's lazy and trying to conserve his strength due to only being an arm and possessing a police officer (Izumi Hina's older brother, Shingo). He made Eiji collect the Medals (coins) for him because Eiji wanted to save Shingo from eternal possession by birb. And Satonaka (gun lady), Date (tall buff dude), and Gotou (twink) work for the guy who orchestrated the reawakening of the Greeed. They gave Eiji the last red Core Medal in order to take advantage of him via capitalism. Yaaaaaaaay! In other words, this show is a metaphor for how capitalism is an extension of the deadly sin, greed. It deals with themes of desires, impulses, and self-restraint. This episode in particular shows that great power comes at many different prices: the cost of a deal with the devil (Kougami Foundation), at physical cost to Eiji (he faints after defeating the lionfish), at cost to Ankh (he gets hope for the rest of his Cores yet gets his hopes dashed yet again). There's so much going on in this episode, so much about unfairness. But the biggest unfairness is how pretty TaJaDor Combo is. Goddamn.

The Hour (BBC): 1.03 A Country Affair

tw it's been a while but I believe someone falls down the stairs and dies at the end? I don't remember whether he gets shot and then falls down the stairs or if he was killed in the fall. also warning for cheating on a spouse

A weekend party at Hector's in-laws gives Freddie the chance to question Ruth's fiancé. Hector and Bel struggle with their attraction towards each other. Meanwhile, Isaac continues the investigation back at the office.

what DOESN'T this episode have. political tension, poetry recitations, party games, fancy dress, gorgeous costumes, and did I mention the poetry recitation?

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Questions tag!

These got Long, so I'll do the tagging stuff up top!

Tagged by: @orionsdestiny

Tagging, under the express condition that you Want To: @sirenianheart @chasm-connected @blaackbiird @monstrousgourmandizingcats And anyone else who sees it and desires to overshare on the internet!

Are you named after anyone?: I'm not named after anyone, no, but I was named after the concept that I gave my mother "a wealth of faith" when she learned she was pregnant with me. (She was in a very rough situation and though I can't understand the mindset myself, I appreciate the sentiment that knowing she was going to have me gave her faith somehow.)

When was the last time you cried?: Does tearing up at songs count? I think it was at I Have a Right by Sonata Arctica on Friday. That song ALWAYS gets to me... (And I think the same day Spotify had shuffle'd up Worth It by Pop Evil, which ALSO always gets to me.)

But as far as ACTUALLY crying, with tears falling and everything, I think that was... when I cried at the last house meeting because I was talking about things that are kinda inherent to Me (speaking bluntly because speaking aloud doesn't come naturally to me and it's the only way I can get the words out, not knowing how to be Soft and Gentle, being frustrated with my disabilities and how I hurt people by accident because of these things, etc.)

Do you have kids?: No, and I have zero desire for them. (I have already decided that even if I do ever actually WANT kids--and I will never have a kid unless I have an Active Desire to Raise One and dedicate my whole life to this living creature--I will adopt. Between my health issues and emet*phobia, I am simply NOT going to risk pregnancy.)

Do you use sarcasm a lot?: Sarcasm? Why would I use that? It's not like it's my favorite form of humor or anything. /s

Seriously though, I do use it a lot around friends and when I'm feeling snarky. Like Eris said, I'm trying to cut down on it because I've learned that a lot of people are hurt or offended by it, even when I don't mean to be hurtful. (And sometimes I do. But a lot of time I'm being critical in a Playful way.) But it IS my favorite form of humor. And if I'm comfortable and in a witty mood, I will likely be making a sarcastic comment.

What's the first thing you notice about people?: Their emotional state, and whether my empathic senses are telling me they're being Honest about it or Putting Up a Front to Hide Things.

What's your eye color?: "Blue" officially, but mostly gray tbh. They look more blue when I wear black (which is most of the time), a LOT more gray if I'm wearing blue (which is a fair amount), and actually kinda green when I have blue makeup on.

Scary movies or happy endings?: Both, ideally! I like it when people have to WORK for the happy ending. My favorite stories ever are the ones that made me fear for the characters, but then gave them a happy ending. And I do LOVE horror! (Unfortunately the aforementioned emet*phobia means I have to be Very Careful watching scary movies though.)

Any special talents?: I think of myself as a VERY good writer! Especially with characterization and headcanon power, moreso for my OCs than canon characters probably, but I like my word choice and I like the way I adjust my writing style to suit the scene too. My poetry tends to have the same meter and rhyme schemes, and generally I don't capitalize on metaphor the way other poetic masters do, but I like my poetry pretty well too. I can sorta draw, and it's far more Expressive than Realistic, but I like my art.

I'm also rather skilled in pet care! I literally have veterinary training on a formal education level, I just decided not to go $120k into student loan debt to do it forever. :P That's another thing, I'm pretty damn good at budgeting! Let's see, also Asking the Right Questions to figure things out. I'm a practicing witch and I specialize in being eclectic! So there's a WIDE swath of different kinds I know about, even though I have my favorites. Same goes for meditation; I've been practicing that for longer than I've been intentionally practicing magic!

I'm also an empath, which is both a skill (interpreting what my senses are telling me) and an inborn talent (I have no choice in the matter; I did try to cut it off when it grew faster than my skill at shielding myself grew to the point of constantly overwhelming me in high school, but it made me feel suffocated). But contrary to popular stereotypes, that doesn't make me super emotionally intelligent. I know it's ~~cool~~ to bully people for this now (heavy sarcastic emphasis), or write it off as "honey you just have hypervigilance", but I was always an empath even before the trauma. And I actually Can't read body language. So like. Miss me with your skepticism, you don't know my life. What I lack in EQ though, I also have a special talent for facing my flaws and figuring out what work I need to do to work on them.

Where were you born?: Ohio, USA! I don't know why the whole internet hates Ohio, it's actually really nice in my part of it.

What are your hobbies?: Writing, poetry, witchcraft, and meditation all previously mentioned! I also love love LOVE music, I go to live concerts at LEAST once a year, theoretically I draw, I like learning everything I can about my hyperfixations, caring for my pets, kinda-sorta have houseplants (two spider plants by the kitchen window that I hijacked from the office spiderplant at work ;P), I'd garden if I had the time and energy, and of course, reading. I'm very slow unless something has All of my Absolute Attention and there are no other obligations to prioritize, but I adore it and I'll almost ALWAYS choose reading over playing on my phone when I have the free time.

Have you any pets?: Yep! Three diamond doves (wild-type Blue and his two white-rumped blue sons Silver and Ametrine), and two chinchillas (Dusty the mosaic and Sisu the TOV ebony). I'm considering getting a pigeon and getting back into planted fish tanks someday, but I'm holding off on those until I have more free time.

What sports have you played?: I played soccer for the city for two years? No sports other than that. I don't have that "competitive spirit", and I prefer solo exercise like hiking and swimming. (I have done horseriding as a random fun activity now and then, and I've... tried archery, the once. I have so little upper body strength I couldn't draw the bow and even though I was standing halfway up a driveway and the target was at the top, the arrow only went halfway there.)

How tall are you?: 5'4! (I used to think it was 5'3.5, because doctors can't seem to agree if my height is 5'3 or 5'4, but I had someone measure me and we both agreed I'm actually 5'4.)

Favorite subject in school?: Possibly English? Surprisingly I didn't like Creative Writing as much as I thought I would, because I don't like being told WHAT to write or HOW to write it. But I also really loved art, choir, Latin, and science! And in college, I ADORED anthropology and Comparative World Religions. I also really liked my etymology courses!

Dream job?: No job at all!~ If I was able to choose my office hours (i.e., not run myself ragged) and go to school for free, I think I would make a very good exotics veterinarian. Particularly for birds. But the reality is that would put me in debt for LIFE, and the hours are grueling, and though I think I could handle the emotional toll of seeing pets suffering and the occasional euthanasia, my emet*phobia makes v*ing animals a nasty trigger (part of why I'd want to work with birds tbh), and I CAN'T handle the emotional toll of people knowing their animals are suffering and simply not caring. (I loved working at the pet store, but I saw that so often it broke my faith in humanity for a little while.) Or they can't afford the treatment their dearly beloved pets need and the kindest option is to put them down to spare them the suffering of dying a slow death from it.

One of my dreams though is to found a charity to help people pay their vet bills! Other dream jobs include being able to make a living through translation (reality: incredibly unstable pay and having to self-market), or through some sort of neopagan spirituality (reality: there's very little money in that unless you want to publish a book through Llewellyn or something, which has a whole host of issues with misinformation and editing books to suit their perspective rather than yours), or travel (that COSTS money, not MAKING money), or breeding birds or chinchillas (very expensive hobby, and there's a reason most people do it as a HOBBY and not their primary income, because the customer base is unreliable and Taking Good Care of A Whole Lot of Animals is expensive, both monetarily and in time cost).

So ultimately, I do not want a job. Working on it, but that's gonna take a few years before I can ever get to the point of leaving the job world behind forever! My dream job is no job at all, and all the time and money in the world to travel and learn languages and own all the animals I can take care of and practicing my spirituality and being a part of that community to my heart's (and soul's!) content.

[mightyflamethrower]

By Lloyd Billingsley, Power Line

On August 2, 2023, Tablet editor David Samuels interviewed David Garrow, author of Rising Star: The Making of Barack Obama. On October 7, 2023, Hamas launched a massive attack on Israel and committed the worst massacre of Jews since the Holocaust. In light of those events, and the recent attack on Israel directly from Iran, consider some of Samuels’ own statements during “The Obama Factor” interview:

The sheer amount of political capital and focus Obama put into achieving the JCPOA during his second term, to the near-exclusion of other goals, suggests that the deal was central to his politics. It also carries more than a whiff of the kind of politics in which the American Empire is seen not just as unexceptional, but also, in some ways, as actively evil. It was a politics born out of the confluence of the Vietnam War and the civil rights movement, which saw a racist war abroad being used to protect a racist power structure at home. That old alliance of civil rights, anti-imperialism, and identity politics made the Democratic Party that Obama positioned himself to lead—college-educated, corporate-controlled—seem cool, allowing it to use post-1960s radical ideology as a language to sell stuff.

In the absence of what was once American journalism, it is hard to know which portrait of Obama’s post-presidency is truer to life: Obama as a celebrity-obsessed would-be billionaire, or as a would-be American Castro, reshaping American society from his basement, in his sweats.

"Touchdown!" 

The election of Joe Biden in 2020 gave the Obamas even more reasons to stay in town. The whispers about Biden’s cognitive decline, which began during his bizarre COVID-sheltered basement campaign, were mostly dismissed as partisan attacks on a politician who had always been gaffe-ridden. Yet as President Biden continued to fall off bicycles, misremember basic names and facts, and mix long and increasingly weird passages of Dada-edque nonsense with autobiographical whoppers during his public appearances, it became hard not to wonder how poor the president’s capacities really were and who was actually making decisions in a White House staffed top to bottom with core Obama loyalists. When Obama turned up at the White House, staffers and the press crowded around him, leaving President Biden talking to the drapes—which is not a metaphor but a real thing that happened. (Samuels’ link)

I have heard from more than one source that there are regular meetings at Obama’s house in Kalorama involving top figures in the current White House, with Secret Service and cars outside. I don’t write about it because it’s not my lane. There are over a thousand reporters in Washington, and yet there are zero stakeouts of Obama’s mansion, if only to tell us who is coming and going. But he clearly has his oar in.  The easy explanation, of course, is that Joe Biden is not running that part of his administration. Obama is. He doesn’t even have to pick up the phone because all of his people are already inside the White House. They hold the Iran file. Tony Blinken doesn’t.

Rob Malley is just one person. Brett McGurk. Dan Shapiro in Israel. Lisa Monaco in Justice. Susan Rice running domestic policy. It’s turtles all the way down. There are obviously large parts of White House policymaking that belong to Barack Obama because they’re staffed by his people, who worked for him and no doubt report back to him. Personnel is policy, as they say in Washington.

Which to me is a very odd and kind of spooky arrangement. Spooky, because it is happening outside the constitutional framework of the U.S. government, and yet somehow it’s been placed off the list of permitted subjects to report on. Which is a pretty good indicator of the extent to which the information we get, and public reactions to that information, is being successfully controlled. How and by whom remain open questions, the quick answer to which is that the American press has become a subset of partisan comms.  What scared me back then was coming to understand that a new milieu had been created consisting of party operatives, the people in the FBI and the CIA who are carrying out White House policy, and the press. It is all one world now. And that’s something people still seem loathe to admit, even to themselves, in part because it puts them in a state of dissonance with this new kind of controlled consensus that the press maintains, which is obviously garbage. But if you question it, you’re some kind of nut.

But historically speaking, Jews are not, or were not, a particularly American obsession, except among some morons and leather fetishists on the right. But they are a major obsession on the periphery of the American empire, where envy and fear of the mythic role that Jews supposedly play in Washington, because of Israel, are defining emotions, regardless of the facts. So how do you talk all this foundation-land, community-organizer shit and then preside over the transformation of the country into a Gilded Age oligarchy? Maybe I just answered my own question: Obama is the Magic Negro of the billionaire industrial complex. And targeting Jews as outsiders and pushing them outside the circle was the way that the Gilded Age oligarchy consolidated itself in America, back then and also now.