#radio interference(rp)

[oculusxcaro]

Electronics have a bad habit of acting screwy whenever Khare is close by, especially radios and older television models.

[ritzy-cervidae]

★

SEND MY CHARACTER A ★ AND I’LL BOLD EVERYTHING THEY FEEL TOWARD YOUR CHARACTER.

bunchofrpmemes:

I like you // I love you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I want you to like me // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re nice // You’re mean // I’m envious of you // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better

[ritzy-cervidae]

Les listens to his splinter's humming with his arms tightening around Cal's waist while he continues to quietly sob into Cal's shoulder, He was letting out all of the emotional trauma of last night seep out of his body through his tears because he knew once he was healed the time for vulnerability would be over.... Hell wasn't a place for any kind of weakness.

He paused in his crying with a quiet gasp when he felt lips slide against his neck faint color fluttering to his purple bruised cheeks.... Les gently pressed a kiss to Cal's jaw in response. "ᴵˡ ⁿᵉ ᵖᵉᵘᵗ ᵖᵃˢ ᵃᵛᵒᶦʳ ᶜᵉ ᵠᵘᶦ ⁿ'ᵉˢᵗ ᵖᵃˢ à ˡᵘᶦ, ᶦˡ ⁿ'ᵃ ᵖᵃˢ ᵘⁿ éᶜˡᵃᵗ ᵈᵉ ᵐᵒⁿ âᵐᵉ."

ritzy-cervidae​:

He’s undead heart and stomach did an interesting tinglingly flutter as his twin climbs and hovers on top of him while he waited to see if having someone hovering over him again so soon would make him panic… but no all he felt was comfort and a strange tingling warmth that Cal’s touch was giving him and with comfort and safety the only things he felt with Cal so close to him Les couldn’t help but finally let go with a quiet little broken sob.

Les buried his face in his twin’s shoulder as he let himself finally actually grieve safe in his twin’s arms, he bared his throat for Cal’s marking next before gently letting go of Cal’s hand so that he could wraps his arms around his twin’s waist instead to keep him close.

Cal starts humming quietly as he accepts that offered neck, tucking his face into it and rubbing his nose and cheek against it, though he’s still careful not to harm him any further.

He isn’t really thinking when he just barely brushes his lips against Les’ neck. He notices the difference in temperature: his alternate is warm, while he himself is room temperature at best. Sharp fingers slip up a little, tucking into the back of Les’ hair, as he murmurs into his skin:

“Il ne peut pas t'avoir.“

[ask-theredcrown]

Asks I am MORE likely to answer:

Asks about life and death;

Advice about life, death, grieving, and other deep topics as such;

Confessions;

Offerings;

Prayers and requests;

Magic anons/"curses" (either serious or in crack/shitpost rps);

Asks regarding the Afterlife;

Asks regarding the crown;

Asks regarding the past;

Narinder's radio;

Cat pics!! Pet pics!!.

Asks I am LESS likely to answer

Overpowered OCs that don't make sense in-game (few exceptions)

Things from other fandoms

Time sensitive asks (Sorry, I'm not really following a time-line here :/ )

Repetitive gimmicks

Memes

One-liners

People who have the preference in asks:

OG COTL characters

People planning interactions beforehand

COTL OCs

Info about characters:

"Narinder speaks like this!" || "Or like this!"

"Aym speaks like this!"

"Baal speaks like this!"

Actions will be described ike this.

[mod coffee: i speak like this :D ]

Tags used:

#ask narinder: for asks

#cotl askblog: for asks and general posts

#cotl rp: for asks and roleplaying

#shitpost rp: for roleplays that are just for cracks and dont interfere with the blog, might be OOC

#ask aym and baal: for aym and baal asks (substituting the old #aym and baal fridays and #not a friday tags)

#narindercore posting | self tag: for moodboards, paintings, anything not COTL related but related to musing

#narinder art | fanarts & not my art: for reblogging other people's arts

#narinder art | my art: for drawings made by mod coffee! (substituting the old #mod coffee makes art tag)

#narindercore | cat memes: just for funsies

#a message from the mod: for when mod speaks in the blog

[swiftlymoniquesblog]

Perfect Storm - Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: Hi friends! I know I’ve been rather absent with posting stuff but life has been HECTIC! I work two jobs, seven days a week right now so it’s a lot and I’m exhausted. Anywho, this imagine is part of @supraveng ‘s follower challenge! I’ve been working on this since like August of 2022 or so and was supposed to be done by the first of September but she allowed me an extension. Thanks for that babe, and congrats on 500 follows! 

Masterlist of all Masterlists| Supernatural Masterlist

Warnings: FLUFF! Breakdown, crying, comfort. Someone has a HUGE breakdown so if that’s a trigger for you, I am sorry!

Word Count: 5,887

Thanks for being patient with me friends! Love to you all!

It’s been six weeks since we’ve been on the road, trying to figure out where Chuck could be hiding. That asshat has been messing with Sammy and I for way too long, trying to take over the world. Sure, he’s God but that doesn’t mean he has to control every little thing and try killing us in the process! And since we have no leads, we’ve been trying to find other cases to work and more people to save. I was currently sitting behind the wheel of my beloved Baby, Sam beside me, scrolling through his phone, while AC/DC played from the car stereo and a pretty impressive drum solo came up.

“Dean, for once can we listen to anything but AC/DC?” Sam asks, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers as I continue my solo. 

“Sammy, what have I always said?  Driver picks the music,” 

“Shotgun shuts his cake hole, I know,” he finished my sentence. “But what if I drove?”

“Oh risky question, little brother” I reply.

“I’ll drive when you sleep.” 

“Yeah and how often do I actually sleep, Sam?” 

Last time I slept without a nightmare was…well I don’t really know. The nightmares have been getting increasingly worse the last few months. Not that I’ve slept well before that but since Jack accidently killed our Mom, that’s been a struggle. I’ve watched her die twice now, something no child should ever have to see, especially at four years old. But even the second time, it's pretty bad. I still hate the kid for what he did but I’ve forgiven him…for now. Sam had a somber look on his face and knew I didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

“So get this, there have been an unusual amount of homicides in a small town in Northern Texas, more than they normally deal with in the year, in just six months.”

“Huh, doesn’t sound like our kind of thing. People are just nuts today, Sammy,”

“True, but there is something that seems like we would do. Each time someone goes to recover the body, there is nothing left.” Sam says.

“Okay that might be something we could work on but, I’m not convinced it’s a monster yet,” I say.  

“Maybe not, but I think it’ll be worth checking out.”

Redirecting our path, I drove Baby in a U-turn and headed off to the nearest small town in Northern Texas, where these cases stemmed from. Several hours passed and we ended up in Wichita Falls and rolled into a small motel on the east side of town. Once we were settled, Sam pulled out his laptop and began typing away at the keys while I searched for a place to get a good burger by looking through flyers in the room. Sam tuned into a police scanner and soon enough there was a call in regards to suspicious activity near our motel.

‘”Dean, I think we got something,” Sam says, turning the volume up.

“All units, we have gunshots out by the WayfarerMotel. RP (reporting party) advised at least six shots were heard, no sound of vehicles but advised there were people arguing on the south side of the property near the freeway,” A female voice called over the radio and responses of “10-4” were soon followed.

Sam and I grabbed our guns, checking to make sure they were loaded and ready to go. We didn’t interfere with the police but did offer them assistance when it came to the investigation aspect. Looking out the windows, we watched as several vehicles had been on scene and officers were searching for the suspect. Soon after, more shots were fired, shouts of “he’s trying to run” and soon enough, someone was handcuffed. 

“Wait, where is the body?!” Someone yells and a swarm of officers and other investigators gathered around to see if there was a victim. Sam and I took that as our queue to come on scene.

“Gentlemen, this is a closed scene” a voice said, turning to shoot us questioning looks.

“It’s okay, we’re from the FBI, I’m Agent Stan, this is my colleague Agent Lee,” I say flashing my fake badge, Sam following the lead.

“We didn’t call in the FBI,” another officer said.

“I’ll be honest, we were off duty and heard of the incident, wanted to see if we could help out.” I said, trying to ease the confusion.

“I’ll allow it,” one of the Sergeants on scene said, seeming to not care about the fight.

“So what’s happened? We’ve heard there’s been a string of homicides with no victims found?” Sam asked, pulling a notepad out of his pocket.

“Not a single one and this is abnormal for the city to have this many homicides in one year.” An officer, later introduced as Officer Hughes, explained the incident.

“Any leads on what is happening? Is any suspicious person found or any other activity that all the cases have had in common?” 

“Well we did find something in each case that relates them together in some bizarre way. Each case has the same call for service. Caller calls in, advises of gunshots, hears people arguing, we get on scene and only one person is found. Aside from the callers, just one person is found. We handcuff them just for safety precautions but the majority of the time, we end up letting them go. In all my years I’ve worked in law enforcement, I’ve never seen anything like this. No definite suspect, no found victims. So we can’t fully rule them as homicides either because there is nobody.” Officer Hughes said.

“Well we might be here for a little while then so we can help out,” Sam said, trying to add a helping hand.

“That won’t be necessary gentlemen, we have enough people on this,” Officer Hughes said, dismissing us as he got back to his vehicle. 

“Well that went well,” I said, sighing in exasperation.

“Come on, I bet if we head back to the police station, someone might be able to give us some information.” Sam said, settling into the passenger seat.

I grabbed a few supplies before I sat behind the wheel of my precious Baby and found the station was not too far from our motel. Pulling up, I find a parking space across the street from the building and Sam and I walk up the steps to the front doors of the station. It was the eerily morning hours, not too many people on the streets, the perfect time for people to commit crimes. Opening the large door, a young woman sat behind the desk, looking up at us when the door slammed behind us.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” She asks, eyes flitting between the two of us. 

“Uh yeah, I’m Agent Stan, this is Agent Lee, we’re with the FBI,” I say and we both flash our badges.  

“We were just on scene of the shooting by the Wayferer Motel and we weren’t able to get a lot of information. Do you think there’s anyone we can talk to about this?” Sam says, giving a small grim to the woman.

“Well given the fact that it's three in the morning, most people aren’t here and won’t be here until eight or so. Y’all might want to come back,” she says, looking back to her computer in front of her.

“Maybe you can help us. Do you know anything about the string of potential homicides that have been happening here lately?” I say, trying to turn on my charm as best as I could.

“No and even if I did, I’m not at liberty to discuss cases with anyone, even other law enforcement,” she says.

“Alright well, here’s my card, whenever someone is available, have them give me a call. You have a good rest of your morning,” I say, shooting the woman a wink.

The next morning, we headed back to the station to see if there was anyone we could talk to. “Good morning gentlemen, how can we help you?” Another lady at the front desk said as we walked to the window. 

“Yeah we were here last night trying to see if we could talk to anyone about the shooting at the Wayfarer Motel.”

“Do you have any information about it?” The lady asked.

“No but we were on scene and we’re with the FBI,” Sam and I flashed our badges as soon as I said FBI.

“Let me call over to the detectives and see if we can’t find someone to come talk to y’all.” 

“Thank you,” Sam says and we both start looking at the displays hung around the lobby.

“Agents.” A male in a black polo shirt and khaki pants with a badge around his neck walks to us and shakes our hands.

“I’m Detective Parker, follow me,” he says, leading us through a door and taking him into a room with a table and some chairs.

“So y’all were on the scene last night?” Detective Parker asked us.

“Yes we were staying at the hotel and we’ve heard about some of the incidents where someone is shot but there’s no body’s left,” Sam explains.

Detective Parker sighs and runs a hand down his face. “It made no sense as to what happens to the bodies after they’re shot. We have no answers and our citizens are getting frustrated as to why their family members’ bodies are not there to bury or cremate them.”

“And that’s why we’re here. Tell us everything you do know,” I say. 

A few hours go by as we dive deep into the last weeks of the calls and cases from the City. I get up to go grab some coffee and stumble to an office where a bunch of ladies are sitting behind computers and answering phones. 

“Well hello ladies,” I smirk to the room of beautiful women.

“Who are you?” One of them pipes up and asks. 

“I’m Agent Stan of the FBI. I’m here helping with some of the shootings y’all have had here. Y’all know anything about those?” I ask.

“We heard about them but we don’t know anything. The guys don’t tell us anything, just what happened.” Another clerk said and she immediately caught my attention. She had long (y/h/c), bright (y/e/c) eyes, and she didn't bother looking at me much longer after that first comment. It seemed like she wasn’t impressed with me and that made me more intrigued by her.

“I see, is there anything you can tell me sweetheart?” I ask, trying to turn on my charm but again, she seemed unimpressed.

“That’s it now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to get back to,” she says, her tone harsh but I found it interesting. 

“Pardon me ma’am,” I say using my best Southern voice but the look of annoyance on her face proved she couldn’t care less.

Most of the time,  I can get away with some flirting with women, this one? She’ll be more of a challenge.”

“Agent Stan?” A voice called to me. I stand and follow him back to another room off set by the clerks area. 

“So, what kind of leads do you have, if any?” He asked, Sammy was  already in the room. 

“Well, we kind of have a few ideas but you wouldn’t believe us,” I said, shooting a pointed look to my younger brother. 

“Try me, I’ve been in this for a long time. I’ve heard just about everything,” the lead investigator on this and other shootings said. 

“We think it might be a series of soul eaters” I say.

“What now?” 

“Soul eaters, they are exactly what you think they are. Since all the bodies that have been killed here are basically hallowed out shells, we think there may be several around the area. Unfortunately, they are not easy to kill but we do know someone who can and can set the souls back to the bodies they were taken from,” I explained as rationally as I could but I knew it seemed crazy to those who were not used to hunting. 

“Well that is definitely something I didn't expect to hear but it also isn’t the most out there answer I’ve heard either.”

“Alright, well let us call our guy and see what he says about it.” I say, giving a pointed look to the detective, wondering what other crazy things he’s seen but deciding not to ask. 

I grab my phone out of my pocket and scroll down my contact until it stops on the name. I hate asking this guy for help but he’s our only source for this case so I push back my personal feelings and press the call button. 

“Hello Dean,” his accented voice, full of entitlement, rang through my ear.”

“Ketch, we need your help,” I say.

“Well hello to you too,” he says and I can just hear the dumb grin on  his face.

“Yeah hi, listen we’re out here in North Texas and we’re helping the local police on a case we think you may have experience in,” I say, getting straight to the point.

“Oh, where in Texas are you? My daughter happens to be out there and she works at a police department,” he says.

“Since when did you have a kid?” I ask.

“Oh, never mind that. Where am I going?”

“Wichita Falls.”

“That’s where my daughter lives!” 

Oh crap, so Ketch’s offspring works at the police department here? Awesome.                                                                                                                  

A few hours later and we’re back at the scene of the crime. Ketch wanted the low down on what we’ve discovered up to this point so we decided to meet at the scene and go over what we know.

“So the bodies are never found?” Ketch asks.

“Nope they’re completely gone. Nothing is left behind but there’s always signs of some form of homicide,” Sam explains.

“And you lads are thinking its,” he trails off until I pipe in with our research.

“Soul eaters, except they’ve evolved so much over the years, they’re not just taking souls anymore.”

“Interesting, well you called the right person then,” Ketch says, standing up and heading to his car.

“So?  What does that mean?” I say, Sammy and I quickly follow him. 

“It means that I’ve seen it once before,” he said, Sam and I catching up with him. 

“You have?” Sam asked.

“A long time ago, yes. It was a rather tragic event for the families but we were able to get the bodies back.”

“How?” I ask.

“Well it won't be easy but we have to…make a sacrifice of sorts,” he says, making his way back to his car. “Follow me back to the station and I’ll go over the details with detectives.” 

We jump inside Baby and speed down the highway, much like Ketch had left. When we finally pulled back to the station, it was nearing five o’clock and a lot of the employees had been leaving for the day.

“Dad!” A female voice says, bounding over to Ketch and wrapping her arms around him.” 

“(Y/N)!” he says, turning to the girl I noticed in the criminal investigation section earlier; no.

“Gents, I’d like for you to meet my daughter, (Y//N), (Y/N) this is Sam and Dean. They are friends of mine.”

“Oh the Winchesters? I thought you didn't like them?” She says and I chuckle; I like this girl.

“Well not at first, no, but we’ve all come to an agreement of sorts.”

“So, you’re Ketch’s daughter,” I say, looking at the woman.

“Not by blood. He adopted me when I was a kid. My bio parents died in a hunting accident when I was six and Ketch happened to be there, so he took me in,” she says.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here, (Y/N),” Sam says, reaching to shake her hand; I just nod at her.

I couldn’t believe it, even for a minute, I thought a girl related to Ketch was beautiful. 

As our investigation went on, so did the opportunities for (Y/N) to show up unannounced, or so it seemed. Like, I thought she had a job at the department, but somehow she always ended up there, along with her Dad, to help assist us in our investigation. Not that I really minded her company but it was a little…odd.

“Don't you have something better to do?” I ask her as she’s going through some paperwork from the shooting.

She stopped flipping through the pages halfway between the pile and looked up to meet my gaze. “I’m helping on this case, y’all need some help sometimes, right?” 

“Well yes but I thought you had another job to do?” I ask. 

“I’m getting the feeling you don’t want me around Winchester,” she says, now more frustrated with me.

“I don’t care what you do,” I say, trying to play off how I was feeling underneath the surface. To be honest, I did care what she did. I barely know the girl but she’s getting under my skin and inside my head. What the hell is happening here I have no idea but all I know is I like being around her.

“Well clearly you do otherwise you wouldn’t be asking,” she says, raising an eyebrow in a challenging way.

Shit that wasn’t supposed to happen. I thought to myself so I did the best thing I knew to do; I walked away. I don’t know what my problem was but this had to stop. I couldn’t like Ketch’s daughter, her father is literally the biggest douche I’ve ever met so no way could I get involved with her. But the way she moved when she walked, swaying in the slightest way, her head held high like she owned the place. She didn’t  look a thing like her Dad but there was more to her than that. She had that long (y/h/c) that flowed past her shoulders and down her back. It was just a little wavy and seemed to have more than one color in it but it suited her well. And those big beautiful (y/e/c) and a perfect smile to match. In just the few short days we were working this case, she has taken over every thought of mine so naturally, I didn’t like her. 

“Dean, are you ready to go?!” Sam yells to me from the other room.

“Yeah,” I called back and grabbed my gear before meeting up with Sam, Ketch and (y/n). “What is she doing here?” 

“She is here to help. Believe it or not gents, she does know about this life and has helped me out more than a time or two,” Ketch explained. 

“As long as she stays out of the way,” I say, throwing a duffle bag into the trunk before making my way to the front. I could hear her huff in annoyance but I could care less. 

We drove around town for a while, trying to find the supplies we were going to need for our “sacrifice” before we headed back to the motel where the last body was supposed to be. Gathering everything together, we followed Ketch’s instructions and then it was time for the dreaded part. 

“So what exactly do we need to sacrifice?” Sam asks. 

“Well, that’s where it can be rather difficult. We don’t need an entire person or thing to sacrifice, but we need the blood of the pure of heart,” Ketch explains.

“Who would that be?” I ask before following his eyes over to his daughter. Her face turned a bit pale, knowing her blood was going to be nearly drained from her body but she didn't hesitate. 

“Tell me what I have to do,” she says.

“I know this won't be easy for you darling, but I will be right here the entire time,” Ketch says, attempting to comfort his child. 

“Dad, I’m not a child, I can do this,” she says.

“I know but you are my child, my only child for that matter and I worry about you,” he says.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve put myself in a little bit of a difficult place for helping you out and I’m sure it won’t be the last,” (Y/N) says. 

As much as I hate to admit it, she’s incredible for doing this and doing it more than just one time. I’m not saying I care about (y/n) or anything but this is going to be a risky task. She’s going to need to give a generous amount of blood for this sacrifice and to see she’s okay with going in without a second thought; it's admirable. It was almost as if we were in a hospital; we had a needle hooked up into her arm and tube after tube of blood was being drawn from her. I could tell it was making Ketch uncomfortable because it was his child, whether biologically or not, so I escorted him out of the room. 

“Here, let’s go get a beer or something,” I say, clapping my hand on his shoulder and walking out. 

“I’m sorry Dean, I just couldn't stand to see that much blood coming from my daughter,” Ketch says, sighing in defeat as we sat across one another at the map table in the Bunker. 

“Hey, there’s no need to apologize. I’m worried about her, too,” I say. 

A moment of silence passed between us before Ketch spoke again. “You care for her don’t you?” 

“What? No, I don’t care for her!” I say, suddenly becoming defensive.  

“You do; I can see it on your face. I’ve had the same look before and it does not go away so easily,” he says, frowning and dropping his eyes to the floor. 

“Okay so what if I do? Is that so bad?” I ask. 

“No it's not, but since this is my daughter we’re talking about, it does make a bit of difference.”

“Look Ketch, I would never hurt her,” I say, trying to explain what I hope I can do for his child. 

“I know you wouldn’t, Dean. In fact, I’m not worried about her dating you, if that is what she wants. I am worried about this life; hunting. She has had some exposure to it but I try to shelter from it most of the time. If she’s around you, I’m afraid someone or something will get to her and there would be no point for my life to continue at that point.” Ketch was being really vulnerable and I was surprised to say the least, but I respected it. Sure, we had our issues trusting him in the past but this is his kid and right now, she is all that matters.

“Dad?” A groggy voice calls to the room. 

“Hey kiddo, your  Dad went to get you some supplies for when you woke up. We all became worried when you went whiter than a sheet but we managed to get you back. You’ve been sleeping for the last few hours cause you did lose a lot of blood but we’ve monitored you,” I saw, looking down at the young girl on the bed in front of me. 

“So did you get enough blood for the spell?” She asks. 

“That is nothing you need to worry about. We need you to get back on your feet,” I tell her. 

“But you don't need anymore blood?”  I chuckle at her, not being able to believe she’s been so concerned with this, but it makes sense. 

“No, we don’t need any more blood.” She takes a giant sigh of relief and slumps back into her bed. I smile as I watch her for a moment before I get called. 

“Hey Dean, we need your help out here,” Sam calls to me and just as I was about to tell (y/n) I notice she had fallen asleep. 

“Okay,” I call back and look down at the young Men of Letters’ daughter and lean down to press my lips on her forehead.

“What do we got?” I say, walking into the main room where the map table sat.

“We have the ingredients for the spell,” Sam says, adding everything together in what looked like a witches cauldron and an ominous purplish hue shown from it. We head out to the coroner's office and find one of the bodies that had their souls taken out and we tip the head back and pour the liquid down the throat. From the esophagus, we could see the hue shining from under the skin and soon, another blinding light encapsulated the room. 

“How do you know if it worked?” I say, looking down to the body that seemed no different than a few moments before.  

Cass places his hand on the body’s forehead and his eyes closed. He seemed a bit bothered by something but then his expression softened and he opened his eyes again. 

“The soul is in there; I’m positive.” He says. 

 For the rest of the bodies that turned up recently without a soul, we were able to restore each one and bring some closure to the families of the victims. We contacted the families and had them come and see the newness of the bodies of their loved ones. Most people would be against this but because these bodies had been violated, family members wanted to make sure they’re loved ones were being honored as best they could. 

“Thank you for restoring my Russell,” a lady said, leaning over to kiss her deceased husband. No one could say a word but a curt nod was all that could be mustered from any of us. This is part of cases we don't get to see. We meet family but we rarely get to see much happiness after the person is gone. Who knew a soul returning to a body could do such a thing?

Back at the Bunker, I go back to check in on Y/N. She was sleeping and I couldn’t help but watch the sore and almost voided women below me. She seemed less pale then when we first got her out of the process of taking her blood for the spell but she still seemed..hollowed in some places. Like her eyes, they were pushed back into her face and her arms and legs seemed as though they didn't have any muscle. How much of her blood did we take? 

“Hey you,” she whispers, her eyes slowly moving to look up at me. I couldn’t speak and wanted so badly to kiss her but the way her eyes suddenly changed, I knew something was off. 

“You get the hell away from her,” I say, leaning away from who I thought was (y/n) but I know better. 

“Aw Dean, why can't we be friends or more since you seem to be in love with (y/n)?” I knew the voice well and just as I thought, (y/n)’s face morphed into him.

“You’re a real bag of dicks, you know that?” I say.

“Yes Dean, I’m aware of how you feel about me and I can’t believe you let this kid distract you from dealing with Daddy dearest,” 

I hold back from killing The Trickster here and now and give him an opportunity to explain himself, against my better judgment. 

“Well good ol’ Dad decided to send me to try and get you back on track. To bring something close to you to just take it away again. 

“What the hell did you do to her?” I say, growing more and more irate. 

“Oh relax, she’s fine, she’s just…tied up at the moment.” he says. 

“I swear to God I will kill you if you hurt her,” 

“Really? I think I can rearrange that since he’s my Father and all,” he says and freezes when I beg for her life again. 

“Please, don’t hurt her. She’s all Ketch has anymore.”

“Yes but you don't like him either so why does it matter what happens to (y/n)?”

“Because we all need her on our team; she’s vital to helping solve cases.”

“Are you sure it isn't more than that?” A third voice says, coming into view. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

 “Dean?” A small voice rang out into the silence that had surrounded me in the room. I don’t know how I ended up here but I do know, it wasn’t easy. 

“Hey kiddo, you’re okay, it’s all over,” I say, looking over to her. She was much better now, away from the pain of blood being drained from her body, no longer in fear of who may be lurking around the corner. 

“What do you mean?” She asks. 

“Chuck, he's gone. Dead actually.” I say, still not fully believing it myself. 

“You killed God?” She asks, a look of disbelief playing across her delicate features

“Well, not exactly. We killed the vessel Chuck but God himself, he swore he would leave the Earth and not bother Sam or I or anyone we love ever again.

“Oh, so, he can still come back though?”

“No, he can’t. Because I….” My words fade from my vocal cords and I cannot process any thought rushing through my mind at a million miles a second. This was it, this was why I did what I did. Her. She is the reason why Chuck is dead and God is permanently leaving us alone. 

“I love you. I know it hasn’t been too long since you’ve been around us or me but I can’t help it. I love you and I want you to know that you are the reason God will leave us alone. If it wasn’t for you, we probably would still be fighting him and there wouldn’t be any peace….we’re free. Sam and I are free after all this time. We finally get to relax and be free to fight for people without having to look over our shoulders everywhere we go because I love you and he will leave us alone now because you are someone I love and….I’m free.” And for the first time in I don’t know how many years, I cried. Not just a small cry, a complete breakdown level of a cry. I guess I had years of pent up agony of having to fight and defend those whom I’ve loved finally come to a boiling point. (Y/N) did the one thing I needed in that moment, something I’ve lacked for many years; affection. She wrapped her arms around me, as tightly as she could, and held me close to her as sobs racked through my entire body. I began to shake violently and all she did was bring me in closer, run her fingers through my hair, and continuously try and shush me in that sweet, comforting way Mom’s do. I’m not sure how long we sat like that but we did until I was silent again. I slowly look up at her, through the tears still sitting in my eyes, and she runs her thumb right under my eye. 

“You okay?” She asks, looking at me in a concerning fashion. 

“I think so,” my voice was no higher than a whisper because I couldn’t trust myself. I surprised myself with the fact I cried as much as I did but I felt better. 

“I love you too,” she says suddenly. 

“You do?” I say, disbelief prominent on my face. 

“I know it isn't long either, but I do have some pull to you and I cannot deny it. You are the only reason I’m here. I love my Dad, I really do but you are the one who I get up for day and day again. You are the one who protects me like no other. You are the one I want to keep giving blood away for whatever spells or anything else you need. I love your smile, your eyes, your laugh, the way you grumble about anything and everything because you’re getting older but it just melts my heart and I’ve never felt this for anyone.”

It may have seemed like a rather chick flick movie thing for me to do, and believe me, I kicked myself for it, but I couldn’t help it; I had to kiss her. Because for once, someone loved me and there was no way I was going to lose her. Well, aside from the traditional ways of losing someone but there wouldn’t be a douche who tries to take her away, which is way better anyways. Her lips felt so soft and natural when she kissed me and all I wanted to do was kiss her from now on. Who am I turning into? Maybe I’m finally able to learn what its like to care about someone and have someone care for me when in the past, we would have never gotten together or even thought about it but things with Ketch have been different and he hasn’t been after us too much since Chuck started. Now, I somehow ended up falling for his daughter. 

“Oh, shit, damn it,” I say, pulling back from our kiss.

“What’s wrong?” She says. “I’m sure you’ve done this before,” she jokes. 

“No, I mean yes of course but, you.” I say. 

“Me?” 

“You’re Ketch’s daughter.”

“We’ll he’s my adopted Dad,” she comments. 

“Yeah but he still raised you. What is he going to think of this, of us?” I say, motioning between us. 

“He won’t care.”

“Are you sure? I mean we've been fighting with him for years and we just got him on our side.” 

“Dean, you’re overreacting. He just wants my happiness. He’s just going to have to deal with it being with you,” she says.

“Fine, then I say we need to tell him and everyone else about us before anything else happens between us.”

She suddenly gets up from where we were sitting in the common room and I jump up to follow her.  

“Where are we going?” I say when I catch up with her. 

“To tell my Dad.”

“Really?” I ask, not believing she wants to do this now but she stops and grabs my face and kisses me, for a long time. 

“Really,” She says after she lets me breathe again.

I follow her into the other room where we see Sam and Ketch at the map table, Sam with a book in his hands and Ketch scrolling through his phone.

“Dad?” (Y/N) says when we are in hearing distance.

“Yeah sweetheart?” Ketch responds, looking up from his phone.

“I’m in love with Dean,” she says with such ease, it brings a smile to my face.

“Oh I know,” he says and goes back to his phone.

“Wait, you know? How?” I ask.

“Because, I see the way you look at her, Dean. And (y/n), I heard you talking to Sam about it.”

“Wait, Sammy, you knew how she felt about me?”

“Yes,”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.

“She asked me not to,” he says.

“So you’re okay with this?” (Y/N) asks Ketch. 

“If he makes you happy, then I’m okay with it.” 

“But you hurt her Dean and I swear,” Ketch threatens me. 

“Don’t worry man, I couldn’t hurt her. She’s the best thing that ever came out of a perfect storm.” 

[corrupted-starcharts]

-{{ Corrupted Starcharts }}-

A No Man's Sky RP/Ask Blog following the journeys of two Travellers, Raskol and Onfim, also known as the Twin-Iterations.

Character references and info under the cut, as well as a deeper dive into the blog as a whole. Some liberties may be taken with No Man's Sky's storyline and lore.

-{{ Iteration: Raskol }}-

Pronouns: They/Them

Specialties: Astrocartography, Cosmology, Language, Agriculture, Communications.

Raskol is an incredibly old Traveller, one who claims to have been around since the early days; they have lived more lifetimes than they care to count. Taciturn and a bit socially stunted, it was until very recently that Raskol largely kept to themself. They dip their hands into many different projects and fields, but their work begins and ends with, well, the beginning and end of the universe. Known for being particularly grumpy, Raskol is finally learning how to relax and be a bit more... well, fun. It's probably the Nipnip. Particularly sensitive to the v̴͔͒̕ͅo̵͓͑̉i̵̧͇͋̊d̵̗̻̆.

Trivia:

Commander of Korvax freighter CS-16 Parhelion

Overseer of Korvax settlement Okinowa's Blight

Primary starship is a Sentinel Interceptor, callsign: Purged-EVA

Often settles on paradise, swamp, or desert planets

Runs a pirate radio station alongside Onfim; Raskol broadcasts from Isdoraijung Galaxy

Cultivated a strain of Nipnip that will knock your boots off

Spent many lifetimes convinced they were a Korvax entity

Difficult to anger, but their anger sure is terrifying

Raskol's Tags:

Character Tag

Travels

Broadcasts

-{{ Iteration: Onfim }}-

Pronouns: They/It

Specialties: Tech Development, Mechanics, Piracy, Smuggling, Hacking and Data Siphoning.

A much younger Traveller, Onfim met the early legs of their journey with unbounded enthusiasm and optimism. They were reckless and feared little. Onfim loved to dig for information, to pull things apart and study them, but trouble only followed when they dug too far and found only c̵͚͖̝̈́r̸͚̀̇i̵̗͐̒m̷̨̧͑s̴͈͚͗̿o̴̬̜̅n̶͖̓͐̈́ and g̷̩͂̀l̴̡̠͊̔͝a̵̭̲̻͗ś̴̢̄s̵̗̱̀̇. They're back now, though, feeling more stable and yet incredibly discordant. The more social of the Twin-Iterations, Onfim is eager to meet with others and constantly be in a crowd.

Trivia:

Commander of Korvax freighter CS-22 Tresserhorn

Overseer of Vy'Keen settlement Sajiru's Crossing

Primary starship is a particularly nasty Sentinel Interceptor, callsign: Hellrider

Frequently settles on paradise, dissonant, or anomalous planets

Runs a pirate radio station alongside Raskol; Onfim broadcasts from Eissentam Galaxy

A bit of a silly goose to the point of being a menace to society

Deathly afraid of lightning storms

Their physical form seems to stutter, glitch, and lag

Onfim's Tags:

Character Tag

Travels

Broadcasts

-{{ OOC Blog Info }}-

Hi, call me Shy! I'm the fool running this blog, my main is @blackcr0wking, and I have an art blog - @blackcr0wkingart - as well. I've been playing No Man's Sky since 2016, and have fallen off now and then, but currently play fairly actively on PS5. My PSN is saintvoid if anyone would like to add me and/or meet up!

Posts on this blog are made both in and out of character depending on content as well as my energy levels at the time. In- and out-of-character posts are usually tagged as such, though I tend to make clearer distinctions in the text of posts as well, as follows:

》 Raskol's broadcasts are denoted by purple symbols, and ten-.. -kzzkt- ..-o have very little interference.

-{{ Out of character text posts will be in brackets, like so. }}-

》 Onfim's broad-.. -kzzzkt- ..-oadcasts are marked with - with orange symbols, and their corrup-.. -kzzk- ..corrupted signal is - is - is evident in text.

I also have No Man's Sky playlists! Check them out here:

Fell Into A Black Hole But It's Fine // A simple, chill, lo-fi playlist with songs that felt (to me, at least) like calmly drifting through space in your starship, or slowly wandering planetside. Chill beats to explore the galaxy to, if you will.

Corrupted Starcharts // A little bit weird, a little bit sad, and a little bit silly, this playlist somewhat centers around my interpretation of both the canon of No Man's Sky's story, as well as the journeys Raskol and Onfim have undertaken. If I'm being completely honest, it's a collection of songs I'm picturing silly little NMS animations/music videos to. For best/most fun results, shuffle.

-{{ Tag Directory }}-

I'm a monster with an insatiable need to sort things, so I figured this could potentially be helpful to newcomers. Commonly used tags are as follows:

Answered Asks

Vibes

Other Travelers

Memes

Planetary Records

Artworks

Bases

Filler

Old NMS

Queue

Scheduled Posts

And I think that about covers it, thanks for reading! Inbox is always open for questions and such both in- and out-of-character. :)

[ritzy-cervidae]

"I am indeed!" He happily starts guiding her toward the direction of the hotel in the distance as he chatted about the dish he was going to make them for lunch. "Crawfish Etouffee is a simple dish, How do you handle your spice dear? its served over rice while the gravy is divine and very filling!" there was a sound of a radio changing channels before a quite female voice starts singing about about dancing

"Splendid!! now let's be off our lunch won't make itself you know!! Ha Ha Ha! I'm feeling in the mood for Crawfish Étouffée!" He rests a razor sharp steel claw carefully against Clem's back and starts guiding her toward the hotel since it was closer then one of his clubs

[silencejammer]

Technological competition and development between the United States and Russia

　　Since its inception, the Global Positioning System (GPS) has become an indispensable technical support for modern military and civilian fields. signal jammerAs the most mature and widely used satellite navigation system, GPS plays a key role in positioning, navigation and timing. cell phone jammer However, with the continuous development of technology and changes in military needs, the GPS system is also facing many challenges and threats. GPS jammer Among them, the advancement of electronic jamming technology has questioned the reliability of GPS signals. This article will explore in depth the competition and development between the United States and Russia in the field of GPS navigation system and its anti-jamming technology, and analyze the current challenges and future development trends.Wifi jammer

Development of electronic interference technology in Russia

　　Development and deployment of the "Magnetic Field-21" electronic interference system

　　Recently, Russian media reported on the latest "Magnetic Field-21" electronic interference system developed by the Russian army. The system was developed by the Russian Electronic Countermeasures Science and Technology Center and aims to protect important targets of the Russian military and key national infrastructure from attacks by weapons guided by satellite navigation systems.

　　The "Magnetic Field-21" system is mainly installed on cellular communication towers. It uses R-340 RP radio interference stations and their transmitting antennas to form a network, which can shield all navigation satellite signals in a specific area. It is reported that a single interference transmitter with a transmission power of 20 watts can cover GPS signals within a radius of 80 kilometers. The deployment of this system will significantly enhance Russia's defense capabilities in the field of electronic warfare.

　　Interference principle and technical characteristics

　　"Magnetic Field-21" blocks the reception of navigation signals by emitting strong interference signals in the GPS signal frequency band. Since the world's major satellite navigation systems (including GPS, GLONASS, BeiDou and Galileo) all use similar frequency ranges, the system is able to effectively interfere with all of these systems.

　　The design of installing jammers on communication towers helps expand the jamming coverage and utilize existing power and communication infrastructure. However, such widespread jamming may also affect the normal use of our own and civilian navigation systems, which requires careful balance in actual deployment.

[ritzy-cervidae]

Alastor's smile widens seeing his double. "Well I can't say this isn't a surprising opportunity. Good day to you dear sir~!" - @alastrophe

Les being an old hat at this point isn't surprised to see an alternate though this one he hadn't met before. "Hello there! I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting! you may call me Les or Leslie if calling each other Alastor is a bit awkward Ha Ha Ha!"

[hypodermicfroggy]

Better Dig Two (2024 Edition)

So literally 11 years ago, I wrote a sort of fic between replies back when my main body of work, Baubles and Brimstone, was still an RP blog. This is what my friends infamously called the "that's not rope" fic. It's still a pretty good horror piece even today, so I cleaned it up and used it to get a role for good horror writing in one of the Discord servers I'm in.

Warnings for blood, gore, graphic depictions of violence and death as well as certain aspects of claustrophobia and choking. Enjoy!

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

Merrick groaned.

Shit. What had happened? The last thing he remembered, they were retrieving the artifact, and a distress signal came down the line as they were in the process of exiting the antechamber…

…and then it was like the whole fucking mountain collapsed.

He opened his eyes and blinked slowly. It was impenetrably dark, and the air was thick with pulverized dust. It made his eyes water; made him cough and grimace as it left a chalky texture in his mouth.

Had there been a cave-in? He thought they would have been able to predict and account for something like that happening beforehand, and he didn’t recall any rumbling or explosions…but with all the magical interference and shit messing up some of the tech, it was entirely possible they could have missed the warning signs.

At least he was still alive. The fact that he could remember some of what happened meant he must not be too bad off, at least head injury-wise.

He managed to ease himself up into a sitting position. Everything was aching like a bitch, but nothing hurt seriously enough to seem fatal. So that was another point in his favor.

He pulled his radio from his belt, decided to see if it still worked and if he could contact the rest of the unit. If anyone else was alive, maybe he could figure out what the hell happened.

“All units.” He tried to stifle another cough. “Khk, all units, this is-…this is Sergeant Merrick Pryce. Does anyone copy?”

Nothing but static.

Shit, again.

Gingerly, he decided to try standing next, to make sure the legs still worked. He got one knee up under himself, then tried to get the other, only to be forced back down to the ground with a slight hiss of pain.

His other foot was pinned beneath the rubble.

Technically, protocol stated that in the event of disaster - natural or otherwise - he needed to stay put anyway. Made it easier for rescue units, secondary patrols, whatever, to find them. His safety could very well be just a few minutes and klicks out.

Still, he didn’t like the idea of sitting alone here in the dark for what could very well be hours. So even though he knew it might be futile, Merrick still kept trying his radio; in-between bouts where he pushed and shoved at the rock and earth that had him trapped.

…It wasn’t that he was afraid - that was some crying pussy bitch shit, and he was no bitch - he just didn’t want to be mind-numbingly bored while he waited here. Besides, he refused to assume the worst had happened. Surely he wasn’t the *only* survivor of the collapse? No, of course not, Cross soldiers were tougher than that.

Maybe everyone else had just gotten out already. Maybe he was just the first one to regain consciousness. Maybe they needed his help, if he could just get his damned leg free-

Despite his best determination, he fell back with an exhausted huff. No use. The massive pile of stone wouldn’t budge.

Once more, he tried the radio.

“All units, this is Sergeant Pryce…goddammit, does ANYONE copy? Can anyone HEAR ME?!”

He yelled the last part. Only his echo answered back.

Eventually, even his own words faded into a silence that almost felt physical, one that made the dark and musty air around him seem that much heavier and oppressive and harder to breathe.

Frustration welled up in him. He couldn’t die here. He WOULDN’T die here. Not when the Cross were so close to seeing their plans finally work out; not when they were so close to wiping every last one of those goddamned pagan cult freaks off the face of the planet!

Hell, it didn’t matter what happened to him or any of the rest. That artifact was the whole reason they’d come to this forsaken mountain in the first place. So long as that got out…

Just as soon as that thought crossed Merrick’s mind, something made him freeze. There was a light tingling at the base of his skull and in his stomach, a deep-rooted animal instinct enhanced by his Cross training.

He wasn’t alone in this cavern.

Merrick reached up for the light on his helmet and switched it on. It flickered a few times before it steadied. The other guys in his unit always bitched that the slightest impact tended to knock the wires loose. He just hoped it would hold up while he was down here.

“Hello?” He called out.

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a noise come from somewhere in the gloom directly ahead of him. The light clatter of pebbles as they tumbled down over the larger stones. Did someone else survive?

“Hey! Over here! It’s Sergeant Pryce! I can’t move, but I’m here!”

More clattering, the shifting of sandy dirt. And a strangely…labored breathing.

“Yyyyoooouu…”

When he heard that, he took no chances. He ripped his sidearm from its holster on his hip, pointed it in the direction the sound had come from.

If it was another unit mate, they might be able to help him get loose. But if it was one of those cultists that had survived, he was going to make sure he killed it before it killed him.

He still saw nothing, but he continued to hear the sounds as they grew louder and echoed around the cramped tunnel, and he barked at them in his best ‘commander’ voice.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!

"Hakhkk…kh…hahaha…”

Was that…was that laughter? What the fuck?

“I’m not warning you again! Show yourself, before I start shooting!”

“Ghkk…go ahead…your little bulletsssh…kk-cannot hurt me…”

Who or what was speaking, there was something wrong with its voice. It sounded thick, burbling, and wet, with toothy clicks and whistling hisses at the end of some words; like it was struggling to talk and even breathe through a gargle of sludge.

He thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye, and as he jerked his head around, the light flickered and threatened to go out again. He fired off a warning shot for good measure, and he heard the sharp ping as it ricocheted off stone.

“Pa…thehhticckk.” It drew the word out, like something vile.

“Yyyour aim…needs work.”

A humanoid shape started to appear; visible in the shadows just outside his helmet’s ring of light as it rose up from the mound directly in front of him. It pushed its struggling way up through the rubble - it must have been buried when the collapse happened.

Merrick pointed his gun at it, intended to shoot first and ask questions later.

But he faltered in pulling the trigger. In fact, he shrank back in horror.

The…person? That rose up before him…it was the human form of the cult’s god. The one responsible for the massacre in Nevada.

Or at least, what was left of it.

Merrick had seen the footage from Nevada, the photographs. But this…thing…barely looked like the man who’d decimated an entire military base on his own.

Its body was battered and bruised as it pulled its front half loose from the earth it had been buried in. He could see twisted and grinding lumps of broken bones shifting just below the surface of its skin every time it moved. The worst of which was the strange angle its head sat at, and the inwardly-collapsed state of its chest - which would probably explain the horrible noises it was making as it wheezed air in and out of its punctured lungs.

It should have been in massive amounts of pain - they knew it could feel pain - hell, it should have been dead, the fucking cave-in had clearly broken it from the inside out.

If you killed a god’s earthly avatar, its vessel, it was supposed to die too, right? Right? That’s what they’d told them, that, that’s what the Cross had trained them for- it was supposed to be dead, why wasn’t it dead-

But no, it reacted like it felt nothing at all. It didn’t whimper, it didn’t flinch. It merely continued to strain and try to pull the rest of itself out, moving without hurry as if it somehow had all the time in the world.

Most unsettling of all, though, was the fact that it stared and kept its eyes - which glowed a faint, ember-like orange in the encompassing darkness - pointedly locked on Merrick.

For a moment, it seemed like it was just going to stay stuck halfway like that; gargling and reaching out with its wrong-angled fingers caked with dust and blood. But then something must have finally given way. And as it toppled forward and slid down the mound, faint coils of something like…rope…made a damp slapping sound and sprayed the stone with a splatter of dark flecks. Which turned into a long smear as it continued its slow crawl towards him.

Merrick had to swallow a mouthful of bile that rose up in his throat - oh, god, that wasn’t rope, it definitely wasn’t rope at all-

His hands shook a little now as he took aim again, but he still fired at it, finger squeezing the trigger as fast as he could.

Quite a few rounds went wild with his trembling, their sparks lighting up the cavern as they bounced off the surrounding rubble, but he still managed to hit it at least once; its head suddenly wrenched to the side as one half of its jaw was ripped through.

It remained unphased though. It merely turned that baleful burning gaze back to him, spit out its broken teeth before it continued its slow advance; leered at him even as its mouth now hung in a crooked and slack ruin of flesh strips on one side.

“What’ssssh the matter, little…hu-man? A…fraid?”

It was to Merrick’s credit that he kept his composure, because he couldn’t understand how or why it was still moving, but he still mustered enough courage to glare, eyes full of hatred for the…wretch…in front of him.

“No. Of course I’m not afraid of you. I took you down once, remember? I can do it again.”

“You liiiiiie, worthlesssss mortal. I can ssh…sssmell the fear on you. Gghk…y-yyooou STINK of it. Is that why…you skks…scurried off…and hid in this hole? Like a rrrrrrattt?”

It let out another one of those drowned laughs, and a torrent of red stained its remaining teeth.

“Shut up and die already!” Another shot fired, and this time the high-caliber bullet hit the figure dead center in the middle of its forehead.

Blood burst from the wound in a high arc as its head snapped back too far on its broken neck.

When it lifted its head back up, bone fragments and bits of brain matter slid down from the newest hole, gathered on the end of its shattered nose before they dripped off and hit the ground.

A perfect killing shot.

And still it. Kept. Coming.

“Sssad, sad, skk-cared lit-tle rat. Yyyou have taken down my weakkhhk dog of a brotherrrgh. But nngh…never something…ghkk…like me.”

That made his blood run cold. Up until now, he thought he was dealing with the god.

But the way it spoke…did that mean it-…it wasn’t the god?

“If you aren’t the human avatar of the god, Zirnitra…then what the hell ARE you, then?”

It paused in its approach.

I am the last thing you see before death, mortal. I am the darkness itself, closing in on you.

The thing’s mouth did not move, but the words rang out clear and loud; a whisper-scream sound that, as it bounced around the cavern, reminded Merrick horribly of a flock of shrieking bats. It took everything in him not to cover his ears with his hands.

He wasn’t even sure if it would have helped - it was like it was in his *head* as well as all around.

“Yeah. Right.”

He swallowed roughly. His mouth was dry, but that was just from all the dust in the air. Not anything else. He told himself he couldn’t let it get to him. He couldn’t let blind panic override his training. The god was still coming towards him, and he was still trapped.

“I don’t believe you. You 'gods’ are all alike. Big talk, no substance.”

Are you not AFRAID of the dark, little rat? You should be, you know…there’s so many things that hide within it…

Merrick didn’t say anything that time, but he did try the button on his radio again, hoping, hoping that this time someone would answer him.

Nothing. Not even static.

He gritted his teeth and slapped the side of the device, as if that would help.

Don’t you wonder why they haven’t come for you? Why they haven’t called? I thought your fellow soldiers cared about you…

“Oh, they’re coming, ugly. And they’ll finish the job on you once and for all.”

“Gllgh. Will they nn…nnnow?”

It spoke with its own mouth again, directly above Merrick, and he jumped and flattened himself back against the slab of rock behind him.

“Fuck-!”

While he’d been distracted with his radio, the god had gotten close enough that it now loomed above him. It had braced its mangled arms against the rubble Merrick was forced to sit against, and its blood and other bodily fluids were now dripping down onto his uniform.

There was a…a curious effect as his helmet’s light caught the wound in the middle of its forehead, that it almost seemed to glow, and crazily, the first word that came to his mind was…

…Stigmata.

He made himself focus on that, instead of the nauseating mess that was below its waist.

If I had to guess…they probably consider this mission a failure. And that you have outlived your usefulness.

“Sh-…shut up.” There was no mistaking the hysterical waver in his voice that time, or the way that the gun rattled slightly in his shaking hand as he tried to aim it under that crooked, ruined jaw and its horrible rictus of a grin.

And they don’t LIKE failure, do they? They do something terrible to ‘fuck-ups’, to use one of your words. That’s why you say you’re not scared of me. But you ARE scared.

Just end it, you fucking pussy. Stop engaging with it, just fucking shoot it and shut it up once and for all.

You always were the overlooked one. The spare, the second, the last resort, the SHIT-RAKER. They only need you when no one else wants to do the work. That’s why you wanted this mission so badly…

Merrick tried to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. The beads of sweat that ran down his face.

What’s the matter with you? Pull the trigger and SHUT IT UP!

…because you thought you could prove you were more than a glorified stableboy with a gun.

He needed to rein in his fear. The god was just trying to get inside his head, psych him out. That’s how these false deities, the pagan shits worked, they claimed to know more than they actually did just to get a reaction-

I don’t need to get inside your head, little rodent. I can see it in your face. Do they even acknowledge you as their shitraker?

With a nasty cracking sound, the god flopped its head to the side, like a curious dog.

No. No, I can tell they don’t. That’s why no one’s coming for you. Because you’re just not…worth it.

They won’t even come back for your rotting bones.

“Shut up. Shut up! Shut the FUCK up-!”

His fingers clutched the gun’s handle so hard they turned white and began to ache as he squeezed the trigger again and again.

Click.

Click click click click.

Merrick’s breath caught in his throat, a quiet sob.

The gun was jammed.

Of all the things to happen.

He hadn’t even run out of ammo yet.

Jammed.

The god, or whatever was puppeting it around, erupted with laughter, coarse hacking laughter that spewed and bubbled up from deep inside.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Did you believe that you truly meant something to them? Stupid little rat! They don’t care about you! They never did!

The gun fell to the cavern floor with a clatter as now he covered his ears. He tried to block that damned noise out, but it seemed magnified, bounced off every surface, drilled right into his head.

“Shut up shut up shut up STOP LAUGHING AT ME!”

Just because you had a name does not mean they bothered to know it!

“SHUT UP! STOP IT!” He screamed back.

And now they’ve left you all alone…

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. He was going to die here. And he couldn’t even take the coward’s way out with the gun jammed.

Well. No, not truly. You have us, at least.

You see, little rat, my brother’s vessel is certainly done for…but there’s still a shred of him in here. And it is ANGRY.

Merrick looked up at the god with wide eyes now.

How long he has wanted to end you, for what you did to him after Nevada. How he has dwelled on how you nearly finished off that little half-breed fuckpet of his, watched the light die in her eyes with every cut of your blade after you took her away from him…though between you and me, I would have loved to see his face if you had killed her.

There was something wrong with the god’s smile now. Not in the way it had been ripped apart by gunfire.

But in the teeth. They were looking…jagged now. Longer. Like they were made to fit a different mouth entirely.

But then again. You are here. And it would be a shame if I didn’t give him one last request…

We ARE brothers, after all

The light on Merrick’s helmet went out with a shatter.

And the god lunged.

He would have gasped, screamed, swore, something, but he suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Smoke flooded his throat, his nose; thick smoke that reeked of burning flesh and fetid, earthen rot. It felt sentient, like it was trying to invade every orifice it could find, and tears flowed from his eyes as it burned and obscured his vision.

The god sank its teeth into his throat. The god did not tear it out, oh no, that would have been a quick end for Merrick. Instead it bit down, hard, hard enough that he felt it crush his windpipe, every fang a hot needle that made it all the more excruciating.

The god was suffocating him to death with its bite.

All he could do was try to draw breath, and he became more and more desperate as each cough and gag made his head a little bit lighter.

It was then Merrick finally let go of any remnant of rational control he had.

On pure instinct he struggled, blindly struck out at the god that held him. He clawed at the mangled face, smashed his fists into it, felt the squelch of torn flesh and rough edge of bone scrape against his knuckles again and again. Booted feet kicked out and tangled in the intestines he’d fought so hard to ignore.

But the grip never loosened. Like a fox having caught and pinned a rabbit in its jaws, all the god had to do was wait for its prey’s struggling to inevitably stop.

The last thing Sergeant Merrick Pryce knew in his final moments was terror and crushing blackness.

The god under the mountain had lived up to its claim.

[ritzy-cervidae]

Les noticed the smell permeating around the room immediately and couldn't help the little cough as Cal snaps to look at him while Les watches the dripping corpse flop around on his twin's antlers.

Cal grabbed his shoulders and he automatically pulled his shared soul closer to let the scent of rutting consume him willingly. "Whatever you need from me it's already yours mon âme partagée" he leans down to nuzzle with a little growl

"mon âme partagée, are you alright?"

Despite having a literal dead body tangled up in his enormous blood-soaked antlers, Cal still snaps his head up towards the voice coming from a few feet in front of him. He approaches without hesitation so he can eventually grip onto his alternate's shoulders with both hands. "Help me..."

[turing-town-official]

FAQ

Q: What is Turing Town?

Turing Town is a town in Newfoundland with a population of approximately 1700 people, most of whom are not quite human (shh ;) and a significant portion of whom are queer. You can read about its history here. (IRL, Turing Town is a discord server where we RP and solve codes.)

Q: Can I join the server?

We try to keep it small and simple so as not to get overwhelming. If you’re a friend, send us a DM and we’ll see.

Q: What’s the Fog?

The Fog is a strange thing. It’s a natural phenomenon unique to Turing Town which consists of a thick cloud of fog that blocks out most light sources and can affect electricity and technology, to some degree. It occurs at least once a month.

Q: What’s the Heartbeat?

The Heartbeat is Turing Town's radio station, run by the couple John and Cheryl Locke, at 19.12 FM. It features a weather segment, presented by Cheryl, a daily news segment often accompanied by a daily historical fact segment by John, music, and the usual paranormal interference.

Q: Who runs this blog?

Isidore (@thegentlemanstar) and Hemlock (@dhiibvulk), interns at Turing Town City Council! Isidore uses he/him and Hemlock uses he/it/wer.

[thenihilistofthevoid]

The End before a Beginning

(A starter for @the-winter-dork-rp)

Chaos... That’s what he landed head-first into, but he didn’t dare arrive any later in his timeline in case of possible intersection with his younger self which would be extremely dangerous for both him and the stability of the timeline. Saburo had been dismissive of Tony’s dangerous experiments into space-time travel, but they had achieved a sort of victory. Nothing perfect but in the confines of space-time, what they had was miraculous so he didn’t want to throw it all away in the name of nostalgia. No, this was more a mission of mercy. To try and bring some comfort to Bucky again. He only dared interfere with his activities as the Winter Soldier two or three times, this part of his timeline was so delicate, stepping into it had to be done with a great deal of care. It was effortless to to locate him, just follow the painful static of Soldat’s processed mind, it screeched like a radio being out of tune. As for hiding his anachronistic presence, it was a matter of telepathic cloaking. SHIELD’s electronic eyes were too busy trying to dig the parasite known as Hydra out of it’s flesh to notice him. Soon finding Winter and his 2 handlers, he attacked like a serpent, knocking the handlers out with a telepathic blast, overloading their neural network and killing them instantly before dealing with Winter, cutting through the interference and re-accessing the little memory packet he made of their past encounters. Saburo always felt bad fucking about with Bucky’s brain since it had already gone through enough, but this was to help. Plus, remembering him before they had met was very dangerous to the timeline, so the memories had to sleep in an area of Bucky’s brain where Hydra’s hammer and chisel approach to mind wiping wouldn’t touch, that wasn’t hard. “You remember me, right?” Saburo asked quickly, hoping Winter had enough cognitive function to access the new memories. He could always make him remember them but he disliked using his psychic power on the supersoldier unless necessary.

[crouton-knight]

tell me about the worldbuilding in space cowboy disaster zone

Oh man okay this one is weird because the worldbuilding grew out of an RP that grew a lot bigger than I anticipated it would but the fic itself was inspired by a different fic (which I think is unfinished? “Bowerbird” by jumpingjacktrash, which I read years ago, so aside from the beginning it probably doesn’t share much.)

This is gonna be a long post.

((Ask about the worldbuilding of my fics! If you can’t see the askbox, zoom out a little and zoom back in.))

My brother’s called the setting “probably the other side of the planet Pandora” and also that he wouldn’t be surprised if there were Vaults causing the rust storms, which in-universe are seasonal sandstorms that will fuck with anything that runs on electricity if it’s more than 20-50 feet off the ground, which is why the characters use short-range radios. The higher in the atmosphere, the worse the interference, to the point of causing, you guessed it! Severe accidents where ships and planes just crash into the surface.

There’s a variety of scavengers besides our heroes that will pick apart a fresh crash, usually of the Weird Alien Fauna variety. That we didn’t see any in the fic so far is mostly because the only crashes we’ve seen for now were (the first one) weeks old and (Dave’s) in the middle of a storm. Had Karkat and John waited longer, Dave probably would’ve been killed and eaten by a giant, subterranean, rocket-fuel-drinking scorpion. (More on those later.)

Caltira is juuust on the edge of where the rust storms are the worst, and is reachable by road or, weather permitting, small aircraft. There’s not much reason to go there unless you plan on venturing into the wilderness, and as a result the town’s economy runs primarily on providing shelter, desert guides, and supplies for adventurers, or shipbreaking to trade the raw materials with nearby towns. It’s not a big town as a result.

As most of the ships are *really* structurally unsound after a crash, there’s only so much that scavengers can take before they have to get out of there. More desperate or at least devil-may-care scavengers can enter the ships if they choose, but there’s a high likelihood of not coming out, either due to animal or bandit attacks, or more likely, falling into a hole in the floor.

Re: giant scorpions, this setting has the legendary “leadbelchers”, which a friend came up with to scare some RPers into staying in line, but that I liked so much that I made an official part of the setting. They’re giant, subterranean “scorpions” that eat radioactive material and have glowing tail bulbs that secrete a highly corrosive venom (which tbh is probably rocket fuel.) Sightings are uncommon to the point of being folklore, most notably the biggest leadbelcher ever seen, Big Britney. 

Story goes that there was a massive earthquake felt in several towns one night and there were reports of bright, moon-like light on the horizon. Everyone realized what it was when it started tunneling into the ground with the signature mating call of the leadbelcher, which sounds a lot like heavy artillery saying “BOI”

Big Britney’s mating crater is still visible to this day. It’s said that any leadbelcher encountered thereafter is probably her direct offspring. We probably won’t see any in the story, as the idea is “slice of life but on a hostile alien planet”.

Parting note, the name Caltira was made up on the spot, but in-universe probably comes from “caldera”, named by the founders of the town talking about the mating crater. Add alien languages, various human languages, and the march of time, and present-day pronunciation is Cal-TEA-ruh.

I can’t think of any other things that might be of interest, but if you have any questions, lemme know!

[ritzy-cervidae]

He happily takes a bite. the grapes pop in his mouth as the cheese and sauce mix with the fruits.

"what's the matter dear~ do you want some?~"

@ritzy-cervidae / *grins before putting pineapple and grapes on his pizza*

"USES MIND POWERS TO DESTROY PIZZA."

[tittahead]

Am fm antenna booster for home stereo

#Am fm antenna booster for home stereo tv

Such antennas often reject multipath sound signals or signals sent from a remote signal transmitter. This will be okay when the signal strength is great and there are minimal if any obstructions. You’ll find that your radio comes with its antenna built into it. These are broadband FM antennas which imply that there’s more than one band of frequency that may compromise on frequency modulation but will be just fine for local radio reception. You will encounter three main types of antennas when looking for the perfect reception for your radio. An antenna with a narrow beam width is able to reject unwanted signals. The best antenna is one which effortlessly rejects unwanted signals that bounce off from obstructions. For best results, ensure that you are in a location where you have access to a direct signal with the minimal amount of reflected signal.įor densely populated areas, you need to go for an antenna designed for sharp directivity rather than a high gain antenna. You first have to decide the type of antenna that’ll meet your needs depending on your location. There are a number of factors that you need to keep in mind before you buy an antenna. When living in an area that has rough environmental terrain, you’ll encounter a poor signal reception due to interference. Electronic InterferenceĮlectromagnetic fields are known to cause poor reception especially from electrical appliances around your home. Even with an antenna, if the signal is weak, you’ll not get good reception. Your radio will sound better when the strength of the signal is strong. The broadcasting equipment needs to be placed on the elevated ground such as a mountain or hill. When two signals use the same direct path, there may be audio distortion and this may be identified by the red flashing on your stereo. They include: Signals Being Broadcast Around that Area There are several things that will determine the amount and quality of the signal that you receive. However, with the discovery of stereophonic broadcasting, the popularity of FM has grown remarkably. The monophonic broadcast is where the sound was transmitted through only one channel. The wider the signal the less the interference by noise which is common in AM (Amplitude Modulation).įM channels occupy 88 to 108 MHz and are broadcasted in either monophonic or stereophonic. When a sound is made, the carrier frequency is regulated by a signal which widens the band rather than narrows it. The initials FM stand for Frequency Modulation which is one of the best discoveries made in the world of electronics. That’s why you need to get an antenna for better signal reception. However, such small stereos don’t have the amplified sound effect that comes with big radios. You’ll find that a small radio with a mono FM will sound super even with minimal signals since the speaker will get rid of any noise or distortion. There are high chances that your signal will be scrambled, especially if you live in a densely populated area with lots of obstructions if you don’t have an antenna. Guide to Buying the Best AM/FM Antennasįeatures to Consider in Good AM/FM Antennas.A Big Company Aluminum Black 1.4” Shortest Carbon Fiber Vehicle Antenna ZHOLÂ New AM-FM Hidden Windshield Antenna Car Radio Truck RoadPro (RP-557) 28” AM/FM Mirror Mount Stainless Steel Antenna Kit Metra 44-UA200 Universal On Glass Amplified AM/FM Antenna Stubby Antenna Carbon Fiber AM/FM Radio WRC Antenna Metra 44-US13 Side/Top Mount Replacement Antenna for AM/FM Bands

#Am fm antenna booster for home stereo tv

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