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anons-has-hlvrai-aus · 6 months ago

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Meet the Members of Neo Team Nice

Forzen

Being only 19 and with a rapidly expiring student visa when the game ended, Forzen was very lucky to meet up with his two American cousins in order to maintain a permanent residence in New Mexico with said cousins and the 15 other people that left the military after the Resonance Cascade.

Adrian Shephard

A guy that's in the same boat as Gordon when it comes to being puppeted around by a Player, although his Player seemed a bit kinder than Gordon's...if a bit trigger happy.

Mitchell Shephard

Gordon's Player had a copy of Hunt Down the Freeman that went rogue, resulting in a very sentient Mitchell. He ended up confined in a Virtual Machine for several months before eventually being ported into the Post Game with his brother, Adrian. He is so serious about everything that it is almost laughable.

Jackson

He got an experimental surgery that gave him the Black Mesa Sweet Voice, but he never learned how to turn it off. He carries a fake cigar in his mouth to avoid suspicion about the BMSV. His favorite BMSV tone is Miku.

Johnson

Not to be confused with Jackson. His number one lifelong aspiration was to become a dragon...his second was becoming an engineer. He ended up going with the latter.

Tower

Literally the coolest guy you could ever meet. He goes skateboarding with Eddy on weekends and works at Poastgame's local Radio Shack.

Eddy

He is Neo Team Nice's only registered nurse, but literally everybody is actively trying to avoid getting injured or sick because they would feel bad about making him take care of them. His hobbies include skateboarding and dog-walking, sometimes simultaneously.

Adam and Nick

Started playing Gay Chicken and simply decided to never call for a winner. They both work at Home Depot and are tasked with making sure people aren't making out in the Lumber Aisle.

Mike

The tech guy that knows how to fix computers and phones. Favorite candy is Skittles. He insists that Dave is his rival.

Dave

The tech guy that know how to program code and hack into databases. Favorite candy is M&Ms. He thinks Mike is trying to flirt with him and is simply bad at it.

Sean

Certified Truck Freak and designated driver for the Jeep Jumble, a limousine-shaped Jeep summon by the military through unknown means but nonetheless serves as the perfect vehicle for Neo Team Nice.

Jimmy

The acquisitioner of weapons for Neo Team Nice, he's pretty sure the End of Days is near and he wants his buddies to be strapped when it happens. He has an uncle in Europe that taught him how to use a shotgun.

Boyd

Knows how to cook, but only when he's winging it. Giving him a recipe somehow always results in disaster.

Dee

A random private that ended up in Black Mesa. He's the military equivalent to Tommy and has a tabby cat named Fanta (he loves all animals, though). Ironically, he and Tommy are unaware of each other's existences.

D. Nutter / Mrs. Coomer

One of Dr. Coomer's ex-wives. She only uses Coomer's name on legal documents and would otherwise prefer to be called either Darlene or Sergeant Nutter.

Lydia

A former black op that bailed on completing her mission upon becoming sentient (like Forzen)

Anthony

A totally normal guy that is definitely, 100% not a Gene Worm.

#hlvrai #hlvrai au #hlvrai metamorphosis au #metamorphosis au #hlvrai forzen #airplane. airplane. [neo team nice]

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botslayer · 2 days ago

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If the fire, sulfur, black iron, and devils every which way didn't give it away, both of us aren't in a place you want to be after you die. I'd offer you a drink but the only things they offer you usually came out of... Well. You. My own blood has a pretty good palete.

You don't have to panic. Not yet. You aren't dead, again, not yet. You're only here because everyone gets a fair warning. So change your ways, yadda yadda, find Christ, yadda yadda... Can you tell my heart isn't in it? Good. At least they'll vary up the torture for it. You get sick of eating hunks off of yourself and still being able to feel it the whole time.

Oh... You want to know what I did for that punishment? Well. It started when I was alive. I killed a man in self defense. Robber broke in, I shot him. And it was all down hill from there. I moved out to the woods after the third guy... Mostly because the best I could do there was plead manslaughter.

Anyway. I bought a plot of land not too far from a hiking trail, built a little shack. Turned it into quite the operation. I was a one-man Sawyer family. I had butcher knives, cleavers, cutting boards, sausage stuffers... I remember the first time I ate a man in those woods. The first woman was alright. I screwed up the spices for her liver, though. Live and learn. All in all? I musta got about twelve or thirteen hapless hikers where they needed to be. And I ate like a king for six years.

Why only six? Throw another skull on the fire and I'll tell you... Thank you. See. One night, another guy came traipsing up the path. Another lost and weary traveler. Two in one day, would you believe it? But winter was coming. So a quick stock up in the event of being snowed in was necessary. Problem was I was outside having a smoke and I was still draining the latest one. If he saw that there'd be no mistake what I was up to.

So here comes a seven foot slab of man. Treating the cold around him like it wasn't much of an issue. One thin hoodie over a thin T-shirt and some overalls. I took to a short conversation with him as I sized him up. He had about a foot of height on me and he was built. Big country, cornfed son of a bitch.

"Who're you?" "Who are you?" "Why are you on my property?" "You can own property this close to a hiking trail?" So on and so on... And then I asked if he knew how to get back to the trail. It was getting dark, you see. I offered to help him back if He'd just let me nab my hiking boots. He agreed and I tried to circle around him. I figured he would still be looking at my front door. Waiting like a big old dog.

But when I exited the side, butcher knife in hand, he was holding a woodcutter's axe. Still looking at the door though. I could tell his tool wasn't mine. Crazy bastard must have had it strapped to his back... I took the chance and leapt at him from the side. He shook me off but the fight forced the door to my cabin open and he got a good look at the woman on the hook. I had left the TV on and was listening to it as I smoked, lit her up enough to see.

I'll remember until eternity, when else is there to remember to down here? But I'll remember until eternity what he said after I got to my feet. "Well... This is awkward," and I think it was a joke. I don't know. But I couldn't help but laugh. "I suppose it is."

But we looked at each other... And we kept sizing each other up. I knew my chances of surviving a face-to-face fight with a bigger man with more reach were minimal... If I recall correctly, he didn't want to fight. "We don't have to do this. I could help you butcher if you want..." But I tell you no lie when I tell you meeting a kindred spirit. One so forceful. One so... Comparatively Jovial. I was in love. And love makes us all do crazy things.

The next few minutes for both of us was a game of hack-and-seek. And we were both it. I don't know if he felt the same, but I think we were both having fun slinking around my house and yard. It was a hell of a way to spend my last hour or so on Earth.

But he caught me. I rounded just the wrong corner and he had me by the scruff of my neck. His weapon, unwieldy as it was with a single hand gave me just the time I needed. I stabbed him in the throat just in time to feel the axe crack though my rib cage and split my heart. I died on top of him... I remember trying to kiss him but I don't think I got close enough to his chin.

And now I feel it is another punishment for me. To never see my darling Francis again... I take some solice knowing he hasn't seen me, either... Maybe it means he felt the same. Who can say?

... Your presence in this realm is fading... Well, your arm is translucent, that's usually a dead give away, no pun intended... Just remember. Change your ways. Or you might end up with a good view of what's happening to everyone else while what happens to you, whatever it is, goes on and on. And on. And on. And on. And on.

After successfully leading your next target to your murder-shed in the woods, they pull out an axe from themself and proclaim "oh, this is awkward."

#pov #you're in hell #writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writeblr #writing inspiration #tw gore #tw violence #tw violence against women #love story #of a very messed up kind #serial killers #cannibalism

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maximuswolf · 2 months ago

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Cyberpunk 2077 is a way better game than The Witcher 3!

Cyberpunk 2077 is a way better game than The Witcher 3! Cyberpunk 2077 is way better than The Witcher 3I very much prefer cyberpunk, but The Witcher 3 is still a pretty good game. Cyberpunk w/ dlc: 9.5/10 Witcher 3 +dlc : 7/10You can tell there were more people involved in the making/development of cyberpunk. It's truly an amazing world to explore. This may be a pet peeve with The Witcher 3, but so many of the characters are gross looking, dirty, always hocking up phlegm, and coughing. How many people can possibly be sick? Like half the population? Their faces are badly designed, and the world just isn't made as well imo. The cutscenes aren't as interesting for me. (In cyberpunk, the cutscenes are almost interactive, which is really cool) The way the characters in W3 speak is just odd at times(not saying the writing is poor, it's actually arguably good, just not my thing for some reason). The combat is way better in CP as well. I actually have a ton of fun during action sequences, where as in the W3 they're mehhh. The stealth/pistol/hacking style of play in the CP is soo cool. You can also play the game how you want to play it, unlike in W3The artwork is infinitely better in CP. The colors glowing everywhere you go is wonderful(especially the server rooms/ command line screens everywhere). W3 is like a bunch of brick buildings and shacks/hovels. The wind constantly blowing in the trees looks unnatural and odd. The interiors of the W3 all looked the same! The clothing is kinda bad in both games, but I still prefer CPs. Those caps/hats in the W3 are so ugly lol(Also you can't sleep/own property in W3, so Ifeel less immersion)I like fantasy and cyberpunk/sci fi equally btw. Not intended to offend, just wanted to get some thoughts down and see what people think. Thanks Submitted September 06, 2024 at 08:39PM by KnightofAmethyst2 https://ift.tt/COE7RzT via /r/gaming

#reddit

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scottfraserphotography · 2 years ago

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The Pursuit of The Sound

By Scott Fraser

April 04, 2023

In a place far, far away, in a time long, long ago musicians pursued a quest for the search of what was referred to as “The Sound”. It started somewhere in the late 1950’s. During the 1960’s musicians around the globe would tweak, hack, and modify their guitars, amplifiers, microphones and even begin the creation of effect pedals in pursuit of “The Sound”. Each musician had their own idea of what exactly the sound really was, and what it meant to them. Recording studios, sound engineers, guitar techs and even artists from other fields contributed to this pursuit. The album Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys is perhaps the greatest example of this during the 1960’s. Everyone from The Beatles to The Who to individuals such as Jeff Beck, Jimmy Page, Toni Iommie went to great lengths to produce their version of The Sound.

Maybe it was the drugs these artists were consuming. Maybe it was the technology that was emerging. Maybe it was the changing of the social constructs of the era. Whatever the reason music became something that would dominate western society. The impacts were scene and heard everyone - from fashion, to art such as paintings, photography and the graphic arts, movies and television, even the political ideals of the time were impacted.

Corporations were also parts of this pursuit as they were not immune to the quest for The Sound. Companies such as Marshall Amplifiers, Shure, Tascam, AKAI, and Foster would refocus their corporate goals to align themselves with the artists. On the home front corporations such as Yamaha, Marantz, Sony, Pioneer, Rotel, JVC and Techniques would join in on this quest by producing home audio equipment that was based in professional studio audio engineering equipment. Out with the basic mono single tube under 5 watt home stereo equipment and in with the high end hi fidelity equipment.

The seventies would see the peak of this pursuit on the one audio front. The drive by engineers and geeks to reproduce to the frequency and exact note without distortion, the exact sound that the musicians had mastered in the studio became the defining goal. Every company had their own idea how to achieve this and some did it better than others. The seventies saw the rise of the home multi-channel equalizer, the home cassette player, high-end turn tables, multi-channel multi-speaker home amplifiers, pre-amps and a whole slew of tech that would enable the home listening to experience what the musician had intended when they recorded it.

Brand loyalty became a thing. Brand snobbery soon followed. Unknown to most who laid down their hard earned cash for high-end equipment, a large percentage of gear was actually made by only a few companies. C.E.C. manufactured audio equipment for companies including Marantz, Sony, Toshiba, Alpine, Teac, Kenwood and Grundig. Others such as Foster produced studio, recording and high-end home audio components for companies such as Realistic (yeah, Radio Shack). And yet others were rebrand to in-house brands such as LXI (for Sears) which in fact were produced by Pioneer. Magazines emerged to educate and inform the public, as well as a means to generate revenue and showcase the latest and greatest home equipment. Manufactures in turn upped the game by producing home equipment that were pieces of art in their aesthetic beauty.

Home stereo equipment went from costing tens of dollars to thousands of dollars. Out with the big console pieces which were as much furniture as audio device, in with equipment that looked like it belonged in a rack in a recording studio. Out with just a volume and tuning (radio) dials, in with a multitude of dials and switches that enabled the home user to have mastery over everything from High’s and Lows, loudness control, bass and treble control, etc. By the end of the 1970’s you could spend as much on a home stereo as you could a well equipment automobile of the era.

The early eighties was the end of the visually artistically stunning home units (unless one was buying uber high end brands such as McIntosh). By the mid-eighties tubes had been replaced by solid state and computers and embedded chipsets were integrated into home stereo equipment as the “home theatre” became a thing. The mini-system was born, bookshelf speakers became a thing, and the CD had been born and began to replace the warm rich sound of vinyl.

It wasn’t that the tech had become that much better, it was that modern systems were cheaper to produce. CDs were way way cheaper to produce than vinyl. Like many things, profits became more important in the end to the corporations than producing quality old school gear. The solid wood cases with shiny steel and alloy polished fronts were replaced with black everything, including as much plastic as was possible. The glow of lights on dials and the radio dial were replaced with cold digital digits.

In 1988 CDs outsold vinyl. Like reel to reel tapes and 8-track tapes, vinyl was on the way out. The modern computer chipset home amplifiers focused more on things like replicating the sound of this or that music hall, and less on sounding like what the musicians mastered in the recording studio.

Thankfully there were geeks, hackers, and music lovers who refused to compromise on sound quality and the under-ground era of “vintage sound” began. From flea markets to thrift stores purists searched high and low for older equipment, often restoring them to their former glory. Repairing and restoring music components from decades gone by became a hobby. With some basic soldering skills one could restore a high end amp for pennies, and the unit was normally acquired for little to no money as people gave them away or sold them at garage sales. Boxes of records could be had for free as they were left on the street as people gave them away as they had transitioned to CDs.

Like many of my Generation X peers I held onto to my vinyl. I shopped at used record stores. I recused boxes of records from people downsizing. To my ears vinyl has always sounded better. As someone who has spent his fair share in recording studios and jam spaces with bands as they record and practice I appreciate the warmth that digital music has never held. I bought one of the last series of turntables from the Sony store in Bonnie Doon mall in 1994 as a friend working there at the time advised me that it was the last model Sony was making. I still have that turntable. It’s mated to an early Yamaha Natural Sound amp that was designed to do one thing and one thing only - play music load and clear - no Dobly, no theatre modes, just play music clear and with power. The amp in turn is connected to two mid-seventies JBL loud speakers. The amp is new enough to have a CD selector and old enough to have tape 1, tape 2 and phone as well. There is nothing wrong with it. It’s not black, but it isn’t polished alloy. It has a digital dial for AM/FM, not the old school dial with lights of the earlier models. It’s case is all alloy, no wood. It has brought me countless hours of joy and happiness. It’s the amp my children grew up experiencing classic rock records being played through. I still remember the day I bought it and what I first played it through it (The Ramones for the record, no pun intended).

I didn’t grow up with high end audiophile equipment in the family home. Yes my father purchased an LXI system in 1984 (I was never allowed to touch the family unit have blown a speaker when I was younger), but prior to that the family owned the ever common all in one (8-track, record player and AM/FM receiver) from Consumers Distributing. In my room I had a similar system except mine had a cassette deck, and not an 8-track. Quality of sound, pure clean replication of music was not what these units were about. I think it took me two weeks to blow one of my speakers when I got it for Christmas from Santa Clause at the age of 11 (thanks mom). As a result of said blown speaker I began my hobby or repairing building speakers. Radio Shack was my best friend during this era. One could score high quality tweeters and woofers for pennies on the dollars compared to the brand name stuff that I so couldn’t afford. I learned how to solder. I learned how to swap out capacitors and such in order to build my home-grown version of a high end speaker. I learned why speaker wire thickness was important as well as keeping the runs even length and as short as possible.

Ever year I would grab the newest Radio Shack catalog when it came out. I’d spend too much time hanging out there and asking questions. I also became a pest at the high-end stereo sales stores. I dreamed of one day owning one of those pieces or art that could produce that beautiful warm sound I knew existed.

My Uncle Jimmy was the first to own an audiophile quality home system. In 1983 he purchased a full AKAI system after a settlement paid out (he had been hit by a drunk driver and barely lived). Jimmy was more than happy to let me use his system. He taught me all about it. He even sent to me with the manuals for each component so that I would truly understand how it worked. He’d let me bring over my records to hear them on that beautiful and expensive system. To this day I still have a sentimental attachment to the vintage AKAI systems.

In my bedroom as a thirteen year old I would look through the Radio Shack catalog and circle what I wanted. The folks at RS would list setups from good, to better, to best - they would also mate components together and show the buyer how much they would save buying all together at once VS buying individually. Not that my parents or Santa Clause was ever going to buy me said home setup but I could dream.

The older we get the more sentimental we become. At least this has been my observation. For the past few years I have been keeping my eye on FB Marketplace as well as the local Used goods website watching for a pre-80’s Yamaha or Marantz (or maybe get lucky and see an AKAI system). This late winter (late January 2023) an AKAI amplifier (AM-2400) and receiver came up on FB Marketplace. I clicked the Save button on the ad and told myself if it was still there come by birthday in April I would make an offer. Last week I made my offer only to find out it had sold. Dave G replied that he had a Realistic STA-960 in cherry condition and sent photos. It was beautiful. Visuals and aesthetic are really important to me but this is an amp, how would it sound? So I started my research on said amplifier. Sources I trust in the audiophile community ranked it better than a Marantz 2045 which is an amp I know well, and it was being offered at half to a third of the price. Dave then mentioned he has the matching turntable and loudspeakers for it. My research indicated it was in the higher end range of Radio Shack offerings and manufactured by Foster (whom I respect).

Time to make arrangements to go view and hear it. When I arrived at Dave’s place the first thing I noticed was the two Volvos. I smiled, because myself I am also a Volvo fan. My gut right then and there told me I could trust this guy.

It was beyond beautiful to look at and sounded even better mated to the matched loud speakers. The silver finish makes the unit look far more expensive than it really is, and the solid metal knobs feel like they were machined with precision. What makes it really work is the beveled glass front cover which allows the warm orange glow of the tuner dial and meters to really stand out. I turned the lights off multiple times just to enjoy the effect. The large solid metal volume dial has a notch to each point on the faceplate giving a very satisfying tactical feel when adjusting the volume. From the local FM station to Black Sabbath’s Paranoid (first pressing) it was everything an audiophile could hope for.

For my 53rd birthday I purchased the amp I had stared at in that 1981 Radio Shack catalog all those times as a child. I’ll be picking up the matching turntable and speakers in the weeks to come. I have no idea when I’ll be able to set up the whole system as currently the speakers won’t work in my current space, but I have a pair of bookshelf which should be fine. The first album that will be played on it will be my recently acquired first pressing of Iron Maiden’s Somewhere In Time.

Who says dreams can’t come true?

PS: In the infamous words of Darby Mills (and the Headpins) Turn it Loud

#audiophile #realistic #STA-960 #SFP #ScottFraserPhotography #ChildhoodDreams #TheSound #Music #stereo #VintageAmp #vintage stereo #1981 #RealisticSTA-960 #Vinyl

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mechanicalinertia · 2 years ago

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STMPD Recommends Bubblegum Crisis Fanfiction: Mike Breen's Father's Pride, Mother's Passion

You know, I wonder if I should tag this with Highlander... eh, nah, wouldn't make a difference. Anyway.

I read Father's Pride, Mother's Passion over the course of several months, really. The first two parts in a burst around New Year's 2022, then I just came back to part 3 and just finished it. It was worth it. Undoubtedly. Perhaps the ending struggles to find its feet for a bit, perhaps you can see the author changing his mind as to where he wants the story to go somewhat last minute, but even so this story continues Death and Life's tradition of being insanely good on every relevant level. Even story beats I don't usually like in other stories I like here.

For context: You can read my original review of D&L here, and access the pages for both these stories (and a few sidestories I haven't read yet) here.

So. Where to start? Well, I'm going to start with the epilogue's author's note, because it says a lot about what FPMP is:

"I got very positive reactions to "Death & Life," and many people asked if I was going to write a sequel. I wracked my brains a bit to figure out where to go with a story, or even if I wanted to. As far as I was concerned, "D&L" was a complete entity, and when I finished it, I didn't really think it needed a sequel. Priss was Immortal, she was the good guy, eventually she'd whack Quincy. Plus the fact I wanted to go back to writing straight HL stories. Simple, ne?"

"Not really. The more requests for a sequel that came in, the more I began to seriously think of one. And the more I think, the more in trouble I get. Many people on a.f.bgcrisis know about my dissatisfaction with BGCrash, and how I felt there was a good story lurking somewhere beneath the crap if only the date was pushed up a year and some explanations were made for the discrepancies between the BGC characters and their BGCrash selves. Oh, yeah, Quincy and GENOM had to be central to the plot again with a suitable explanation for their absence from everyday Megatokyo life, Largo needed to be ejected from the plot entirely, the ADP slacker attitude had to disappear, the hinted-at-in-ep-7 relationship between Leon and Priss needed to be consummated, and Adama had to be severely rethought. Hey, cool. I'll rewrite BGCrash the way I thought it should go. Originally, I was going to write a straight BGC story within the same cycle, but with little or no HL influence beyond Priss' rapid healing and inability to have kids."

"Then they cloned that damn sheep..."

So, yeah, cloning had just been done with Dolly, and that was an inspiration. The desire to see Crash done better was another inspiration. Both good things to draw from.

Anyway, yeah. The story is told as a flashback from four hundred years after BGC, after the rest of the Sabers are long dead, where Priss's Watcher interviews her about the events assumed to be Crash. Of course Priss says that what we know as Crash was cooked up as fabrication by Sylia to hide a far stranger Immortal-related truth (how coy, Mister Breen, how coy) and from there the plot kicks off hard. Priss is friends with a fellow Immortal Patrick happens to know from the bad old days in the nineties, she's started to develop her own label alongside said immortal to help finance less idol-y acts like her own -- and then Sylia comes back into town by just emailing Nene (instead of doing some tomfoolery with hacking a game center) and they've got a new set of jobs - and yet, and yet, Sylia isn't afraid to admit the other Sabers are getting older, and that there's no shame in swapping out the old members for new ones over time. This is a running theme, really: winding down the Sabers instead of destroying them in a blaze of glory. Which even Priss, much mellowed by having killed two other Immortals in the last fic, is down with.

So that means shacking up with Leon, and it means trying to get custody of Sho. And, uh, the scene where Priss explains to Sho that she's an immortal is the cutest thing in the whole goddamn world, I am not joking, it's not even close.

But evil never rests. Quincy and Madigan have some seriously diabolical plans tied to Immortality, and they involve planned blackouts, a different kind of MacGuffin, the Illegal Army, and Adama - no, not the Adama you're thinking of. Something infinitely stranger and more twisted, and uh, tied to the themes of the story, about whether or not Immortals can have normal lives given their supernatural status.

Now, despite loose pacing and plenty of scenes of characters just talking, of the ever-closer bond between the Sabers and Patrick O'Brien, I really like everything that happens. It all happens for a reason, see (and it also justifies Nene going full savage for a moment there), there are a few good hardsuit fight scenes against the Illegal Army, and it all builds up until the end of Part 2. Part 3, though, is when it stumbles. The hardsuited showdown we've been building up to, we just don't get. We get some killings, both of two people we care about and of one person you're probably going to want dead by that point, but it doesn't feel satisfying. The only death that cuts deep is - well, you'll see for yourself. Suffice to say that even with poor execution (heh) in that last part, Father's Pride, Mother's Passion ultimately sticks the landing and succeeds at being the kind of story it wants to be, at once triumphant and tragic, the best kind of stuff.

Did I mention all of Priss's parts of the story are told from first-person POV? It's a nice touch, especially since it helps convey how much of a better-balanced person Priss is compared to the original anime, and compared to most fanfic including my own. Another positive quality.

Supposedly there was to be a final part where Priss finally killed Quincy, but it never came about. Fine, it was made clear it would happen some day. And what we've got is still worth a good readthrough. Seriously, give this one a go. If you've read Death and Life, and you want more of that, you will not regret it.

#stmpd reviews bgc fanfic #bubblegum crisis #fanfiction #bgc #fanfic rec

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imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese · 1 month ago

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I am late, but still wish to participate. I hope that is ok.

Content warning: The following, while framed around the song "Curses" by the Crane Wives, contains canon-accurate Destiny 2 elements of the Drifter's many (900-ish years) lives and while the guy is always smiling, friendly and constantly joking in the game, his history is bleak af beyond capacity in the trauma department. This includes, child death, entire town death, violence, gun violence, fire, criminal activities resulting in the deaths of innocents, symptoms of extreme depression, and references to the Drifter having murdered his friends upon multiple occasions. It's also a nightmare dreamscape so it includes surreality and the inability to distinguish what is and is not real.

If you are not familiar with Destiny, the person who appears at the very end is Eris Morn.

Ashes, Ashes

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

"What face would your nightmare wear?"

It was a blood red dusk. All around was scorched earth and shadows. Some small fires were still burning. The air was thick with ash and death.

On the bare dirt floor of what had once been a shack with a sheet metal ceiling, the man with no name sat cross legged, flipping cards out of a half-burnt deck in his hands onto the tamped earth in front of him. None of the walls still stood, but the floor was intact. It was too dark for him to see the faces of the cards but he kept flipping them over in a familiar pattern on the ground anyway.

Yu, age nine, walked up to him and knelt down near him. Blood dripped out of her nose. Her clothes were scorched. Half her hair was gone.

The man with no name stopped moving. Holding one card in his hand, he stared straight ahead past the child, waiting.

“Why are you here?” Yu asked him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied.

“I live here.”

“No ya don’t. You’re dead, kid. Been dead a long time.” He resumed flipping cards into the pile.

“Are you cold?”

“Nope.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

He looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. "Why don't you… go see what your parents are up to?” He swallowed, the words burning in his mouth like embers. “I'm a little beat."

“Ok,” she said, shrugging, and left.

He closed his eyes, wanting to feel tears trickle down through the ashes on his cheeks. No tears came. He tried to laugh but it came out as a cough, dry and hacking.

Dropping the rest of the cards in a pile he looked around and spied a half-charred ration pack with an intact box of water. He stood and walked over to it, picking up the familiar tin he kept beside it. He twisted the cap and water flowed out into the tin. He lifted it to his lips.

Ashes. Hot cinders burned his mouth. He spat them out and dropped the tin, cursing.

There was a loud crack and a rumble. The man with no name flinched and looked over to see the remains of his neighbour’s barn collapsing in the fire that was slowly eating away at it.

In front of the collapsing barn, Yu’s mother held her child tightly, crying out in fury as her husband lay dead at her feet, shot through the head. The man with no name felt his face get hot. He was weak and sweating, his whole body shaking with chills.

He blinked. They were still there.

He picked his way through the wreckage toward them. Yu’s mother stood crying, clutching her daughter. Yu looked back at him with sad eyes as he approached.

The man with no name looked down at the dead man at his feet, then back at the mother and child.

“Germaine,” Yu said. “I don’t want to die.”

“Sorry kid,” he said.

There was a bright flash and a roar of machine gun fire. Yu’s mother fell, limp in a heap next to her husband.

The smoke cleared around them.

Yu stood alone looking up at the man with no name.

“They’re dead,” she said.

“Yup,” he nodded.

“There’s no one left.”

“I know.”

“They’re all gone.”

“Yeah, yeah they are. Ain’t no bringin’ ‘em back. I’m sorry.”

She reached out and took his hand.

“Won’t you stay with me?” she asked him.

“Sure, kid. I can do that for a little while.”

Yu began walking, still holding his hand. The man with no name followed.

They walked across the middle of town, picking their way through the bodies, the rubble, the small fires.

They came to a burnt husk of one of the neighbours’ shacks and went inside. There were cobwebs in the corners near the ceiling, coated in ash. Yu walked through a hole in the back of the shack to where their neighbour had once kept chickens. Instead of chickens, now, there were just bones. Stacks and stacks of bones. Some were bleached from years of weathering, others were still in various stages of rot.

“Did you kill all these people?” Yu asked.

“I don’t know, kid. Maybe? Hard to tell. I’ve killed a lot of people. I don’t remember who they all were.”

“I thought you didn’t want to ever kill anyone.”

“That’s right, kid. I never did.”

“You’re still shaking,” Yu said. “Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“I’m sure. Are you?”

She stopped and looked up at him. “I can’t feel anything,” she said.

And then he was on his knees, cradling her in his arms, her mouth next to his ear, whispering. “I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel anything.”

The man with no name rocked back and forth, holding the child. He wanted to cry. It would be a human thing to cry in a situation like this, but he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

She crumbled to ashes in his hands. A cold wind came down from the mountain and began to blow the ashes away. It picked up speed and began to fling ashes and dust everywhere in small whirlwinds, whipping up some flames, extinguishing others.

The mountains of corpses around the kneeling man began to shudder in each gust. Bits of bone skittered along the ground.

The man with no name stood and faced the wind as it began to whistle through the piles of bones. Gradually the whistling became voices, whispering out of the wind as it swirled around him.

I can’t feel anything

I don’t want to die

Shut your hole, Germaine… Your name is stupid, and you're stupid, too

You were one 'a them all along

I don't want to die

This is what you aspire to be? A perennial liar who plays house with refugees?

I can't feel anything

You could have helped her

Who were these people to you?

I can’t feel anything

You could have saved them all

I don’t want to die

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into the wind.

His bones ached and he was trembling as though he might fall apart.

Ashes and dust whipped around him.

There was a shovel in his hand. He knew what he had to do.

With a sigh he turned his back to the wind and started digging. The wind continued, singing songs to the secrets behind his eyes.

Surely this would be when he would cry. A normal human would break down sobbing in this situation. He wanted to cry, to pour tears like someone turning on a faucet in a kitchen sink, but nothing came. The well was dry.

He cursed as he dug. He cursed as he placed bones in holes and buried them. He cursed as he slowly and methodically laid the dead to rest again and again and again but the piles of bones never ended. There was no rest for him.

I can’t feel anything

I don’t want to die

Explosions went off around him as he dug grave after grave. Gunfire. Rockets. Void energy. Solar. Arc. The man with no name kept digging holes, putting bones into them, and filling them.

“I’m sorry,” he said to each one.

Fallen from the house of Devils cut down civilians in front of him with guns he’d supplied.

He dug more graves.

He turned around to see a bar table in the clearing behind him.

Cenric, Jaak, Otto, Ayrin, and Thalia lay dead across it. Blood from the bullet holes he’d put in their faces had only just started seeping out. Cenric was still holding his glass.

“Together again, huh?” the man with no name said to his old crew.

He sighed and started digging their graves too.

It got colder. The ashes were mixed with snow. Eventually he was no longer digging dirt, just snow.

He turned around again to see four frozen bodies, all of them pointing guns at him.

“Was wonderin’ when you lot would show up,” he greeted them with a hollow salute. “Suppose there’s always room for more.”

He dug more holes.

The crew he’d rode the vex network with, countless civilians from the pilgrim guard, friends, lovers, enemies, bodies upon bodies. And still the wind whipped around him, whispering. Cold and ashes stung his eyes, but still not so much as a tear. Crying was a human thing. Humans got to cry. Not him.

I can’t feel anything

I don’t want to die

He was so tired. He’d been digging for so long. Everything hurt. Eventually he turned around and didn’t see anything, just ashes and snow. He turned back to the hole he’d dug and realized he’d finally run out of bodies. He’d buried them all.

But there was still a hole, the one he’d dug without thinking because the bodies had seemed endless.

I can’t feel anything.

Who were those people to you?

Nothing. Just ghosts.

I can’t feel anything.

The man with no name nodded to himself and lay down in the hole he’d dug.

The ground was cold and the ashes and snow began to blow over him, burying him.

This was how it would be, he guessed. The end of it, finally. He could rest. It was cold though. Very cold. He hated being cold. It hurt. If this was the end, why did it have to hurt so bad? Why did everything always have to hurt?

“No.” The voice was firm and clear. It was not his voice. It was not any of the other voices either. Low, feminine, fierce, unrelenting. So sharp.

His eyes opened but he couldn’t see anything through the snow.

The wind whispered in Yu’s voice: “I can’t feel anything.”

His eyes closed again. Even now at the end, he couldn’t even cry. He didn’t even get that small mercy of feeling human before he died.

“No.” the strong voice resonated around and through him. “We’ll live in the night if we have to.”

The man with no name sat up in his own grave.

“It is necessary,” the strong voice said. “For what follows.”

Something was touching him. Something warm. He was so cold. All he wanted right now was to be warm. He couldn’t see through the snow and the ashes what it was but he reached out and grasped a hand. It was warm, gentle. It held him firmly. His other hand reached to follow the first. He grasped an arm that was criss-crossed with scars.

“Help,” he rasped, his entire body trembling, his voice almost gone. “I know I don’t deserve it but please, please help me.”

“I am here,” said the voice. “You are safe.”

“I don’t deserve to be safe,” he said, “I know I ain’t good and I shouldn’t get any mercy, but please, please stay with me.”

“You are good enough, Germaine,” said the voice, pulling him closer into her arms, sheltering his face from the ashes and the snow.

He buried his face in her skin, feeling her scars against his cheeks, pressing himself against her warmth, the wind receding. He felt her hold him close and relief washed over him. The voices of the dead grew faint and silent, replaced by the faint rattling of the engines in the Derelict.

Shuddering, the Drifter blinked his eyes and drew in a ragged breath, slowly taking in his surroundings. He was shivering naked on the floor under a table in his workshop. Three green eyes glowed in the darkness, inches from his face.

“Eris?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Are… are we ok?”

“Yes.”

And finally, finally, it was safe enough to cry.

Xena’s Share Day

it seems that i’ve got a theme of feelings here. so give me another feeling today: desperation. let us see a moment when a character was utterly desperate - for anything or anyone.

#destiny 2 #the drifter #nightmare #canon drifter backstory #xenascribbles #xena's share day #sad drifter is sad #ao3 #fanfiction #writing #ashes ashes #imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese #cs member writing

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king-dail · 3 years ago

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Baoh Minecraft Headcanons

Walken (Username: The_Carnage_Warrior)

- Walken is SMART he would pimp out his place in a matter of hours while Ikuro is still in his dirt cave - Only comes up from his mine when he has a full inventory (He also has at least one 64 stack of diamonds) - Finds diamonds in his first hour on a new world. Absolute chad - Could speedrun the game if he wants to, but doesn't - Constantly challenges Ikuro to PvP's, but is always rejected - Gets really mad when Ikuro doesn't wanna fight - Is neutral to redstone. He can do it, but he doesn't see the point - Only speaks in voice chat to roast ppl

Sumire (Username: CodeCrackingCrayon24)

- Sumire bugs Ikuro to change the difficulty to peaceful whenever she wants to go and mine (Spoiler alert: He always caves in) - Her house is like one of those hobbit houses (She definitely looked up inspiration from google) - Collects flowers and animals - Has a dog with a brown collar named after Nottsuo - Makes sick ass murals with stained glass - Definitely makes memes and puts them on maps to fuck with Ikuro - She is in charge of all the decoration since she and Ikuro live together (Last time Ikuro tried to decorate he put snow everywhere) - Ikuro once fell into powder snow and nearly died. Dorudo laughed but nobody else did. As punishment, Sumire put powder snow all over his house and watched him freeze while screeching in chat - Likes redstone and is really good at it - Talks about her day in voice chat

Dorudo (Username: Xx_CyborgSniperDorudo_xX)

- Tries to snipe Ikuro when he's afk - DEFINITELY griefs ppl - His inventory consists of arrows and a single bow - Lives in a dirt house - Has had Walken fuck up his shit more than once - Uses hacks - Basically that friend nobody likes - Snipes monsters when he isn't trying to make life worse for everybody else - Tried to PvP Ikuro once but got his ass beaten so badly he's now reduced to attempting to shoot him with arrows from afar - Once while trying to snipe Ikuro he fell off a cliff, resulting in 1) his untimely doom and 2) everybody laughing at him via chat - He's not very well respected anymore - Refuses to touch redstone with a 10 foot long pole after a particularly nasty incident involving tnt and gravel - Gets bullied in voice chat

Ikuro (Username: SocialParasite89)

- He isn't shit at the game, but he isn't terribly great either - Mostly does farming and mining, but his real skill is fighting - However, he doesn't like to fight unless it's absolutely necessary - Has considered switching his gamemode to creative so he can give all his animals nametags - Has a massive farm and makes sure he has least one 64 stack of bread - If you were to come up and ask him for food he'd gladly give it to you - He puts signs EVERYWHERE. Some of them are actual markers for locations but most of them are just little messages like "walken is cool" and "tell nottsuo hi for me sumire :)" - Uses chat the most out of everyone and does those little chat emojis (Like B), O_O, >:)c, so on and so forth) - Goes afk often due to being called by his parents - Does most of the food making - Also breaks into ppls houses to put food in their chests and leaves (Dorudo fucking hates this, Walken could literally care less, and Aya thinks it's cute) - Sucks absolute shit at Redstone - Goes into voice chat and just talks about whatever

Aya (Username: Ac1d-Tra1n47)

- Aya's house is like right next to Ikuro's - Is more willing to throw hands than Ikuro (Basically the "He said he wanted NO pickles!" meme) - Sniped the shit out of Dorudo after the powder snow incident - Is also really good with redstone - Teamed up with Sumire and nuked Dorudo's dirt shack multiple times - Is absolute besties with Sumire - Listens to Die In A Fire by the Living Tombstone while stealing all of Dorudo's shit - Remixes songs with noteblocks - Gets on voice chat and immediately puts on MAD RAT PURGATORY while Dorudo screams in rage

Bonus: Baoh (Username: Same as Ikuro’s)

- Tries to type "Baro" but ends up keysmashing instead - Turns it's mouse sensitivity really high - Doesn't know what redstone is - When it's in voice chat the only thing that can be heard is "BAROO BAROBARO BAROOOOO"

Even Bonuser: Nottsuo

- Doesn't play Minecraft

#baoh #nottsuo #sumire #dorudo #ikuro hashizawa #aya baoh #sumire baoh #dorudo baoh #walken #walken baoh #my stuff #headcanons #nottsuo baoh #baoh the visitor

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dalekofchaos · 3 years ago

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Friday The 13th sequel idea:Part XIII:Camp Blood

The best way in my opinion to make a new Friday The 13th, is to unite the majority of the survivors against Jason.

If this fucking lawsuit(fuck you Sean S Cunningham, pay Victor what you fucking owe him) ever ends, this is what I’d love to see as a final sequel.

First, yes this is Part XIII because I consider the remake to be good enough to be in line with canon, just retcon the opening and Jason finding the hockey mask and Jason keeping Whitney alive because she reminds him of his mom.

So my suggestion for a final sequel is this. Tommy Jarvis knows Jason is still out there. He plans to search and bring together everyone who’s ever survived Jason Voorhees. His plan is for everyone to pose as Camp Counselors as Camp Crystal Lake is reopened and lure Jason so they can all kill Jason and end the nightmare once and for all.

Before I continue on the survivors, here is the following things I would love to see in this final Friday The 13th movie

It has to be set at Camp Crystal Lake.

It has to keep the tone from the first 4 movies.

Kane Hodder or Derek Mears must return to play Jason

Pay homage to the game by having Jason hear Pamela’s voice in his head and Jessica Lange should play her

Have Jason’s shack and shrine to Pamela make an appearance

Set it in modern day

Tom Savini does the kill effects, no CGI

Jason has his left eye missing, the axe mark on his mask and chain around his neck, to show the damage and calling cards to Part 3, 4 and 6

Show what the films never established in Jason’s flashbacks. Show Jason’s home life. Show him having a loving mother and father, who just wanted the best for him. You could even show that Elias taught Jason how to hunt and where he got his survival skills from.

Then show Jason’s survival from drowning building his shack, surviving and waiting for his mother but she never shows and we see that it was Jason who did some of the kills in the original and Jason was stalking in some scenes and Jason does watch Pamela die. This would prompt Jason to kill everyone who ever enters Camp Crystal Lake.

Tommy recruits the following

Ginny Field from Part II

Chris Higgins from Part III

His sister Trish and wife Megan Garris

Pam from Part V

Tina Shepard from Part VII

Rennie from Part VIII

Jessica and Steven from Part IX and their grown daughter Stephanie

No one from Jason X since that would be impossible

As for Lori and WIll, Jason killed them in Freddy vs Jason vs Ash

Clay and Whitney Miller from the remake

But someone that everyone never expected to see, is the one person who survived Pamela’s slaughter of Camp Blood. That’s right, it’s Alice Hardy. Here’s my reasoning. The only reason why Alice was killed off in Part II is Adrienne King dealt with real life stalkers, so I think Alice deserves to be in the final movie, plus it makes no sense whatsoever for Jason to find Alice when he never leaves Crystal Lake. SO yes, retconning Alice’s death is very much needed

There would be teens hired as counselors, so Jason has a body count to be worthy of the title. I’d say at least 13 victims, plus those unlucky survivors who happen to die.

Now I know what you’re thinking. Why are you including Pam since V is considered the black sheep of the franchise and since Jason wasn’t in it? This fan theory that suggests that Jason had a psychic connection with Pamela and Roy, thus having his presence felt throughout the franchise. Also Pam was close with Tommy.

I would say the last standing survivors would be Tommy, Megan, Ginny, Stephanie, Tina and Alice. So in total, the death count would be 21

Tina would hold down Jason with her telekinesis. Alice would jam an ice pick in Jason’s skull. Ginny would hack Jason’s limb with a pickaxe. Megan shoots him in the chest, Trish stabs him in the back, Stephanie would stab Jason in the heart and finally Tommy would decapitate Jason.

#Friday The 13th #Jason Voorhees #Horror #Tommy Jarvis #Alice Hardy #Ginny Field #Chris Higgins #Megan Garris #Tina Shepard #Rennie Wickham #Stephanie Kimble #Jessica Kimble #Steven Freeman #Trish Jarvis

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doublel27 · 2 years ago

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📓

I mentioned this to you briefly yesterday but I have an idea for an OG Roswell/Roswell NM crossover I doubt I’ll ever write. The NM crew takes Michael’s rebuilt ship and zig when they should have zagged and end up in OG verse in the West Texas desert in front of an old shack.

While Max and Michael are squabbling about whose fault it is, with the rest of the team ranging out behind them, a woman steps out of the shack with a shotgun and yells “Guerin, Evans. I don’t care whose fault it is that you crashed that Czechoslovakian hunk of junk in my front yard. Just make it disappear. Hit whatever buttons you need to make it invisible.”

There are of course the questions of who this woman is and how she knows them and she gives a relatively cryptic answer and NM Alex pegs her as Maria. And she brings them inside and sends them to the bunker underneath the shack which is covered with what the OG gang has saved as mementos.

The OG crew meets up in this cabin every so often to check in while they continue to hide from the government and the various dangers that exist.

And meanwhile Kyle has some comment about patients who will need him, and this sparks what I think is the interesting part of the story, the differences between a group where Liz gets shot in high school vs the Liz who gets shot on the eve of their ten year high school reunion. So many things would have been different for the OG crew if they hadn’t been children. And that’s part of what Maria struggles with, is this group of people who had enough resources that their Alex didn’t die and weren’t stealing blood samples and using high school chemistry labs and hacking government agencies with gaming consoles. They graduated and they have lives and means. Whereas the OG crew is on the run.

It could be fascinating. But it feels like a lot.

#my asks #doublel27 talks #writing ask game #roswell new mexico #roswell #roswell nm

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bowlerhatwearer · 2 years ago

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Greetings @chaxtic-love

I saw your tags and have spoken a bit about the concept here if you would be interested.

I like to think that the reason for the curse is a bit of a "mortals trying to outdo god" scenario, were scientists in an underground laboratory tried trough a machine to defeat mortality and to live forever.

However something goes very wrong, causing the whole village/town gets cursed, that causes people to die (often horrible) and to come back on the next day.

The machine is still active and so the curse continues, with no one of the NPCs wanting to venture down to the laboratory's, due of, strange creatures having started to appear in the underground passage.

Given that I like to imagine it being an RPG / Hack n Slay game, the protagonist would find journals/notes scattered trough the dungeon(s), that would lead to the underground lab, that tell you more about what happened.

Perhaps also some NPC's know a thing or two about it, and while I imagine most a rather young adults, maybe there are one, two or more who are in connection with the laboratory, or were even scientists.

I could imagine that maybe the final boss would be a heavily corrupted head scientist, who does not want to give up their "vision" of immortality, or maybe them being the fake final boss and the true final boss being some sort of supernatural entity, I haven't thought this far yet to be honest ^^,,,

However, despite the game being more in the RPG or Hack n Slay genre, I do like to think that there would be AC elements, for example befriending the NPCs with them starting to trust you (and unlocking new dialogues and information) and maybe being able to grow plants on the surface, for example, having a little garden near your shack/shelter.

Appearance wise I do like to think the game would look perhaps similar to Diablo I, and so would also be the layout of the dungeon, there only being (mainly) one that just goes deeper and deeper and always changing.

Yours sincerely

Bowler

Hmm, a game similar to Animal Crossing, with the concept of Happy Tree Friends, would be, interesting.

#Bowler rambles #Ask #Video Game #HTF #Happy Tree Friends #AC #Animal Crossing #Hack n Slay #Hack n Slash #Video Game Concept #Game Concept #Concept

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stars-a-n-d-scars · 4 years ago

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10 Days of Summer - Chapter 2

Hey guys! Here is chapter two!!! As always, constructive criticism is welcome, homophobic bitching is not. I love you!!

***

Sirius had always been an early riser. There was just something about the way the sun shot pink and orange daggers to shatter the impenetrable frost of the night that drew him. Soothed him. He couldn’t count how many mornings he had spent on the roof of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, observing a world rarely seen. Keeping the company of the moon, she who shone her light for unseeing eyes, as she slipped from dark’s cruel grasp and was liberated, to finally rest. Watching as, one by one, the stars faded into nothingness and the great eastern orb returned to claim the sky for its own. And so, it will likely come as no surprise that when we rejoin our protagonist, he is partaking in the same activity as he had every morning for the last 12 years.

The sun had a peculiar way of setting the world on fire. It was never loud or obnoxious. It didn’t burst into the sky in a shower of confetti and yell of its presence for all to hear. It seeped over the horizon, inch by inch, so that even the most attentive of onlookers could never pinpoint the exact moment that night turned to day. Sirius sat perched on the roof of the Potter’s, watching smoke from his cigarette unfurling in that inexplicable, mesmerizing way that it does. But one can only sit alone on a roof for so long before one’s mind starts to wander. In Sirius’ case, it found its way to the boy sleeping on the sofa downstairs.

He had always been drawn by Remus. From the moment they’d met, something about that awkward, scar-ridden 11-year-old had caught his eye. Maybe it was the way his timid hands had quivered when they shook hands for the first time, or the way his eyes gleamed with a type of gold that a thousand goblins couldn’t conjure. Ever since that moment, he always wanted to be around him. To be close to him. It was impossible to explain, but Sirius was under a spell that not even the most powerful wizard in the world could break.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of a window creaking open. He turned around and was shocked by the sight of Remus climbing through the attic window and out onto the roof of the Potter house.

“Morning.” Remus’ morning voice never failed to take Sirius’ breath away. Simultaneously gravelly and soft, it enveloped him in what could only be described as comfort.

“Hey”, Sirius said, and it was frankly impressive how many voice cracks he managed to fit into that one, short word. Clearing his throat, the smitten boy persisted; “I thought you were afraid of heights?”

Nice one Sirius. Make him think you see him as a wimp. That’ll get him to fall in love with you.

Sirius internally cursed himself for his insensitivity, fully expecting Remus to turn right back around and go back inside out of anger. It was to his surprise, therefore, that Remus smiled and settled down next to him.

“I was. But these last few transformations… I don’t know. Every time the wolf rips me apart, I feel like I’m going to die. And so, after I changed back the last time, I decided that I wouldn’t waste whatever time I have left being scared of things that don’t matter. Because there is no way to know which full moon is going to be my last.” A heavy silence settled over the boys. As the weight of Remus’ confession sank in, Sirius found himself on the edge of tears. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t help thinking about how he would survive if Remus did die. If, one day, the blood on the floor of the shrieking shack would become too much, and they would all drown in its repercussions.

Wordlessly, Remus reached over and took hold of Sirius’ cigarette. Their fingers brushed only for a second, but it felt like forever and was over too soon. A shiver ran down Sirius’ spine at the feeling of Remus’ cold finger on his. His finger, surprisingly unmarred compared to the rest of his body, seemed to set every nerve in Sirius’ body in fire. That simple act of proximity was enough to set his heart beating at a rate that, frankly, shouldn’t be allowed.

When Remus withdrew his fingers, the cigarette perched between them, Sirius was left tingling in the small but infinite point of contact, and he vowed never to wash that hand again, lest he lose the shimmering ecstasy that the tingling brought. The situation was not improved by Remus’ decision to bring the cigarette to his lips, placing his mouth exactly where Sirius’ had been only seconds before. He took a long, languid drag from the joint, his beautiful lips perfectly shaping to exhale the smoke. Sirius marveled at how this boy could make even an act as simple as taking a puff from a cigarette seem like the most sensual, lascivious experience of his life. Sirius’ mind was flooded with obscene thoughts of what he wanted to do to those lips, what he wanted them to do to him. He felt dizzy at the thought (although that might have also had something to do with the sudden lack of blood in his head; it seemed to have decided that it was needed elsewhere).

The stillness was shattered by a hacking cough.

“Merlin, what the fuck is in this thing?” Remus exclaimed through another shuddering cough.

“It’s only a cigarette”, Sirius answered, confused.

Remus laughed. “I know that, dipshit. But why? What the fuck are you doing out here at bloody six in the morning smoking this cheap shit? Here.”

Sirius watched in bewilderment as Remus reached into his sweater pocket and withdrew a long, hand rolled joint.

“What is it?”, he asked stupidly.

Once again, he found himself blessed by the presence of Remus’ gorgeous laugh. “It’s weed. Marijuana. It’s a muggle drug.”

Sirius was skeptical. “And it’s better than cigarettes?”

“Way better. Here.”

Before Sirius had a chance to say anything, Remus was bringing the joint up to Sirius’ lips. Startled, Sirius instinctively parted them, and let the rough paper of the tip slide in. Then, Remus’ fingers skimmed his lower lip, and he was paralyzed. His mind was plunged into a world of haze, where his lip and Remus’ fingers existed alone. Where all the unsaid words were unimportant, and all that mattered was that Remus was touching him.

But something inside him realized the sheer impossibility of that dream and brought him back to reality. A reality where Remus would never love him back, because why would he? Why would an ethereal creature like Remus Lupin, with all his intangible beauty, pay any attention to a bratty pureblood who couldn’t even tell the difference between a mandrake and a spinach leaf?

Well, Sirius concluded, if this is the closest I ever get to him, I may as well make the most of it.

Sirius sighed, leaning into Remus’ touch. Memorizing the sensation of cold fingers on his skin. But Remus drew back. Sirius supposed he must have angered him with his display of intimacy, because a red flush was creeping up his neck and highlighting his cheeks.

Drawing back, Sirius cleared his throat, which was not an easy feat, due to the joint now in his mouth. When he was satisfied that an ordinary level of awkwardness had been restored between them, he lit his joint. Almost immediately, he felt a wave of relaxation wash over him. It was amazing, the sensation of every muscle in his body loosening, becoming calm. The tension was gone from his shoulders, and he couldn’t even remember why he had been worried about this in the first place. He had never felt anything better.

He felt a tug on the spliff and opened his mouth so it could slide out, the paper sticking to his lips. It was Remus, of course. He took it into those elegant, beautiful fingers and took a puff, closing his eyes as the glorious smoke entered his system. After a couple of seconds, he exhaled again, the smoke rippling through his voluptuous lips and ascending to join the clouds in their endless dance of mesmerising shapeshifting.

The rest of the morning was spent that way, sharing that slice of euphoria, tucked away on a rooftop in a tiny corner of a tiny island in a huge, huge world.

***

The sun was dipping into the west now, and James and Peter had long since engaged themselves in a fierce game of monopoly. Surprisingly, Peter was doing very well. Although James would later claim that he “let Peter win”, it was clear to see that he was severely frustrated by his lack of success. Although, his agitation might have had something to do with his anticipation of the next day; the girls had agreed to come over in the morning and stay for a couple of nights. Inevitably, James had spent many hours fretting over what to say when Lily arrived, before finally agreeing to partake in a game of monopoly to settle his nerves. Clearly, this hadn’t helped. To their merit, Remus and Sirius had abstained from the activity, aware that an apprehensive James and board games were never a good combination. They had instead elected to watch, which proved to be a far more enjoyable pastime.

“That’s it!”, James exclaimed, throwing his money down on the table. “I don’t get this dumb muggle game. I’m going for a walk.” He pushed back his chair with an unpleasant screech and stormed out the front door, leaving a bewildered Peter in his wake. They didn’t have long to revel in the absence of James’ intense leg-jiggling, however. The door had barely swung close before it was wrenched open again, and James came thundering back in, unchanged, except for the fact that he was now soaking wet.

Fuming, he mumbles something about “s’raining”, and sloshed his way up the stairs. A distant door slammed, and the house was quiet once more.

“Well”, Sirius clapped his hands together. “I’m starving. Dinner?”

Peter perked up at the mention of sustenance but was quickly shot down by Remus’ next statement.

“In case you haven’t noticed, we can’t exactly walk to town in this weather. And the muggle delivery place won’t come out here in the rain.”

But Sirius was unperturbed. “Well I’ll cook something! Peter, why don’t you go make the guest rooms up for the girls, and Remus and I will whip something up for tea.”

Peter quickly scampered upstairs, not one to pass up an opportunity to clean a bedroom (it was one of his many unappreciated blessings; the need for cleanliness).

Left alone now, Sirius turned to Remus. Just being close to him was enough to set his heart racing, but he pushed that down.

Not right now. We’re just cooking. Just two friends, making dinner for their other two, less sophisticated friends.

However, he found himself unsure of how to proceed. So, as a demonstration of his ever-present sophistication, he decided to go with the most refined of communicative methods: finger guns.

Immediately regretting the decision, he dropped his arms to his side and cleared his throat for what was probably nearing the millionth time that day. “Shall we?” Remus nodded.

The Potters’ kitchen was sprawling with innumerable cupboards and drawers, all immaculately designed and painted to create a blend of antique styles and modern methods. There were 3 ovens, and a number of industrial fridges, including a blast-freezer. A mini fridge sat on the bench, containing sodas of all flavours and, further back, expensive alcohols. To Sirius, who had grown up in the dingy prison of Grimmauld Place, it was heaven.

He walked over to the industrial fridge and started pulling out ingredients, ideas flooding his mind. Although he would never admit it, cooking was one of Sirius’ guilty pleasures. The thought of so many elements, things that are seemingly useless of bland, coming together to form a gastronomical masterpiece was something that he enjoyed immensely. Within minutes, he was working away at a bouillabaisse, the pastry for a quiche already in the oven, and an ice-cream mixture chilling in the fridge.

Remus was watching in amazement from his perch on the island bench, a cold raspberry soda in his hand.

“Where did you learn to cook?” he asked, unable to tear his eyes from the mesmerizing bubbling of the bouillabaisse.

Sirius blushed. “Andy taught me, actually. After she moved in with Ted. I would go and visit her every Saturday and help out around the house when Ted was out working.”

Remus was well aware of Sirius’ feelings about Ted Tonks. Although he had not approved of him initially, believing strongly that Andromeda was worthy of someone better, he had seen how passionately he cared for his family, and grown to like the stumpy little man.

“She says she learned from Ted’s mother, who was a chef in France before the Depression. She said that Andy had a knack for it, and so taught her everything she knew. Since no one in the ministry would take her in fear of her parents getting mad, she decided to do everything she can at home, taking care of the house and of little Nymphadora.”

“Oh yeah, how is she going? God, she must be going on a year now!” Remus asked, remembering the pictures Sirius had shown him of his baby cousin when she was born.

“She’s doing good. It really is a breath of fresh air, seeing that even in the midst of the oncoming war, there is still such innocence and good in the world. But at the same time, I’m terrified that she might have to grow up in a world governed by Voldemort.” His voice shook on that last sentence, his throat swelling painfully as tears sprung to his eyes. He tried to blink them back, unwilling to let Remus see that side of him, but they knew each other too well. With two quick strides, Remus was across the room, enveloping him in a hug.

Sirius sank into it, letting himself be consumed by the warmth or Remus. By that comforting smell of nutmeg and tea, coupled with chocolate and books. The brush of leather jacket on woolen sweater, the feeling of heads on shoulders and hands on backs. And he knew that, as long as this boy was in the world, everything would always be okay.

***

After dinner, the boys had opted to take their dessert into the living room and watch a movie. Remus had suggested Titanic, and James had protested for all of 5 seconds before remembering that Rose bore a slight resemblance to one Lily Evans and supporting the idea wholeheartedly. But now the movie had ended, and the boys found themselves, yet again, in limbo between waking and sleeping. At some point during the movie, Remus had moved over to snuggle next to Sirius, and it hadn’t taken long before they were sprawled out on the sofa, Remus’ head on Sirius’ chest. Sirius had tried no to think anything of it, justifying that Remus was tired and probably didn’t even know what he was doing. But a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but hope.

Remus opened his eyes and looked out the window into the dark garden. The night sky was speckled with a tapestry of a thousand stars, each one so small, yet burning with a fire so intense it could consume everything they held dear in less than a second. There was no moon in the sky that night.

Then Remus turned his head to look up at Sirius, his golden eyes meeting grey ones.

“It’s stopped raining”, he said.

Sirius looked up, and saw that the skies had, in fact, cleared.

Glancing down again, he went to reply, but was cut short by the sight before him. Remus was asleep, safe in his best friend’s arms. And so, Sirius spoke his answer for the unlistening ears of the night.

“Yeah. Yeah it has.”

***

I hope you liked it!! It is up on ao3 as well, and the next chapter will be coming soon! Please reblog is you liked it, I’m smol and would love more people to see it. thankyou!!

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dreaminpeaches · 3 years ago

Text

New Paracosm AU: Big Hero Beau

@decaykid yes, kind of...

Okay, like I said in my last post this idea came to me after listening to Fist Pump and Viva Namida on loop with pacing.

So you know like how the original Humble Pie paracosm is very western horror kind of drama, yeah? well, this paracosm is just full on ANIME BBY!!! I'm talking Space Dandy, I'm talkin' Gurren Lagann, I'm talkin maybe a little bit of Trigun, and also takes alot from action rpgs like Bayonetta, Devil May Cry, Persona, Viewitful Joe, and Wonderful 101 (but its like only two people), and takes alot from Sonic the hedgehog (mostly Sonic Underground, Sonic Adventure 2, and Sonic Forces), and little bit from Fancy Pants ( that's not an anime or a "real" video game, its just an old flash game I used to hyperfixate on).

This paracosm is completely different which is why I gave it, it's own name instead of just adjective then "!"

This version of Beau takes a lot of inspiration from Dandy ( Space Dandy), Vash The Stampede (Trigun), Sonic The Hedgehog (Sonic The Hedgehog), and Kamina (Gurren Langann)

In this paracosm, both of Beau's parents perished in a tragic accident, Beau takes his siblings to an abandoned shack and they hide out and live out there. the tragedy this motivative Beau to become stronger and a hero, not only to keep his siblings safe but others too. The last thing his mom told him was that his smile could save a thousand lives, so because of that he always keeps an upbeat, go get 'em attitude, and he doesn't want to bum his younger siblings out. His mom also gave Beau her heart shape locket before she passed on, so Beau has worn it ever since that day.

The locket is very precious to him, he doesn't let anyone touch it (other than his siblings), and if he loses it he'll go into a panic attack and can't do anything else until he finds it again.

Dev, Beau's little brother, also wants to be strong and a hero, he tries to train like his brother but he can't keep up. Beau tells Dev that he has to be strong in his own way, so Dev decides to put his tech skills to good use and make his older brother cool weapons for him to use. I forgot to mention in this paracosm some people are born with superpowers and such, and Beau's superpowers are super strength and speed, while Dev's superpower is super intelligence.

Dev can't keep up with his brother on foot, so he made himself a jetpack to keep up, and makes science weapons for himself to use.

In this paracosm, there are evil robots, pirates, bandits, ninjas, demons, fallen angels, giant spiders, bad guys who kidnap pretty people, any enemy you would find in a video game or anime yeah it's probably here. So, there's always something for Beau and Dev to fight or someone to save from something.

Beau and Dev don't have secret identities since superpowered people are common but they get to have a pretty rad transformation scene activate when they fist bump each other.

Beau fighting style is similar to that of a hack and slack fighting game, Beau mostly use his fists to fight and his speed, he'll also use guns too, but he'll only use swords if he thinks he can pull off a cool move, since not really experience using them that much. Dev made Beau special gloves and boots that make the attack range of his hit larger so its easier to take out hoards of stuff like robots (which happens lot) and big enemies like giant monsters.

His boots are also guns so its like....

Oh, and Beau also makes sure that he always looks cool when fighting just in case someone takes a pic (which happens alot). Unlike Bayonetta, Beau is more playful with his posing rather than sexy.

Dev's wits come in handy when the two come across puzzles, riddles, or finding a way out of traps on their adventures since Beau didn't complete school once his parents passed and mostly focus on raising his siblings and hero training.

Much like Sonic, Beau is very snarky and witty while fighting his enemies (or at least tries to be), he always tries to make a snarky comment or a really cool zinger before finishing off his enemy. Due to his kind of being not the sharpest tool in the shed, it can take a while for him to come up with a good zinger, so it kind of stalls fights, and sometimes it gets to the point where the enemy is just like "Oh my GOD! just KILL ME!", this also annoys and embarrasses Dev too at times.

Beau makes money from bounties and doing odd jobs around, he makes enough for his siblings to live comfortably, but there are times where he'll go hungry because he only has enough for Dev and Carrie to eat. Beau is still a kind of a lower-level hero compare to the other well know ones around.

Dev has also made a rocket ship so they can fight intergalactically on other planets

Carrie in this paracosm is still 4 years old, she has yet to show any signs of having powers, which is pretty normal for her age since people in this world don't show powers until they hit their pre-teen years.

Beau will take Carrie on their adventures if it's safe enough, but if the mission is too dangerous Beau will take her to the nearest daycare or the nearest trustworthy femme person. Beau will try to make the mission or fight end quickly as possible if he left Carrie with a stranger, there's a sigh of relief once he finds her safe, if not (which doesn't happen a lot thankfully), well somebody gonna die and Beau tries to make it up to her by spending the next few days with her, just him and Carrie.

Beau tries to put being a good guardian/older brother before being a hero and tries his best to spend as much time with Carrie and Dev as possible on chiller/lower stakes days.

Beau had never had time to really process the feeling of losing his parents, there are days where he feels down but he never lets it show around his siblings or have it affect his hero work. There are nights where those memories keep him up, sometimes he'll cry but still try to smile thru the tears.

Beau likes to give peps talks to himself in the mirror, and pep talks to Dev, when he's feeling discouraged, although most of the time those pep talks don't really make any sense Dev still appreciate his brother's kind words.

Since Beau saves people, he interacts a lot with damsels in distress, he flirts with them, but usually gets rejected for coming across as too cheesy or cocky. He doesn't really mind it tho, he actually finds it funny, but when a lady actually flirts back he gets really flustered and has to leave immediately. Despite this Beau still tries to give Dev advice on talking to girls.

Beau still smokes and drinks because the stress of having to raise young siblings, dealing with trauma, and being a hero can be alot, but he still makes sure his siblings don't see him and he doesn't get too wasted.

Other than hero stuff, Hero! Beau enjoys reading comics, parkour, skateboarding, break dancing (which he incorporates in his fighting for some really cool finishers), practicing cool poses and phrases, playing video games with his little brother, and watching barbie movies with his little sisters (since Barbie reminds him of his mom).

Oof, I think that's all I got for now....

TL;DL Basically if this version of Beau is Sonic the original Beau is more like Shadow if that makes any sense.

#paraportal #new paracosm #paracosm #paracosm: big hero beau #para: hero! beau #I still have yet to figure out how Bonnie fits into this paracosm #their dynamic is gonna be more of a 'two stupid dorks' kind of dynamic #I dont think this paracosm could get anymore anime than this #maybe I'll make bonnie a magical girl #idk would that be too much

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