#ram: i sense hostility

[literaryavenger]

Captain America: Civil War

Summary: When on a mission in Lagos things don't go as you expected, Secretary Ross offers the team a solution.

Pairing: Platonic!Avengers x F!Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of violence. Language. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3K

A/N: It's only half of January and I've already been sick, great! Anyway, basically all the other parts of this story were queued and ready to go, so I got some time to rest but now I'm here writing with a fever! So, if anything doesn't make sense or I missed some mistakes, that's why. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

After months of tracking down Rumlow, you finally have a chance to get him once and for all.

You’re in Lagos, sitting at a cafe.

“All right, what do you see?” Steve’s voice comes in your ear. You know he’s talking to Wanda, she’s still learning how to be an Avenger.

“Standard beat cops,” she looks around her. “Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target.”

“There’s an ATM in the south corner, which means…” he trails off letting Wanda finish his sentence.

“Cameras.” she promptly says.

“Both cross streets are one way.” Steve keeps going.

“So compromised escape routes.” Wanda reasons.

“Means our guy doesn't care about being seen, he isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out.” Steve says, “You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one?” she asks “It’s cute.”

“It's also bulletproof,” you discreetly point out  ”which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.”

“You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?” she says and you smirk.

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.” Natasha answers from a few tables away.

“Anybody ever tell you you're a little paranoid?” you hear Sam ask and try hard to contain your laughter.

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” Natasha says and you can see her smirking.

“Eyes on target, folks. This is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months. I don't want to lose him.” Steve says in our comms.

“If he sees us coming that won't be a problem.” Sam says. 

“Yeah, he kind of hates us.” you add.

There’s a minute of silence as you all keep an eye on your surroundings, then you hear Steve’s voice again. “Sam, see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

You turn around just in time to see Redwing flying under it to scan the truck.

“Give me X-ray.” Sam orders the drone. “That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

“It’s a battering ram.” Natasha says and your eyes widen a little.

“Go now!” Steve says and before the words are even out of his mouth you’re moving.

“What?” Wanda asks confused.

“He’s not hitting the police.” you say and then you’re all running in the truck’s direction.

Steve and his supersoldier ass get there first, then Sam and Wanda who can fly, while you and Nat are stuck driving your motorcycles as fast as you can, but can still hear the conversation through the comms.

“Body armor, AR-15's.” Steve says “I make seven hostiles.”

You hear some gun fire and then Sam “I make five.”

“Sam.”- Wanda says and, after a few seconds, Sam again “Four.”

“Rumlow’s on the third floor.” Sam says, then Steve says in his Captain voice “Wanda, just like we practiced.”

“What about the gas?”-you hear her ask.

“Get it out.” he orders. You can see the green and red whirlpool from the street.

“Rumlow has a biological weapon.” Steve after a few minutes, just as you and Natasha get there.

“We’re on it.” she says and basically jumps off her motorcycle and it skids into an agent.

You make a sharp turn and come to a sudden stop in front of an agent on your right side, so you push your left leg off the bike and, twisting your body, you kick the guy hard on the stomach while also dismounting the motorcycle.

When you turn around Nat cocks her eyebrow at you and you shrug. “What? I’m not throwing my bike at these assholes.” she rolls her eyes at you as you two keep taking out soldiers.

You can see Nat getting dragged by Rumlow, but you’re too busy fighting off some agents to help her. You vaguely hear him saying ‘I don't work like that no more’ and frown, you manage to take out the last one around you and, just as you turn, you see Rumlow launch a grenade into the truck and say “Fire in the hole.”

You run towards it, knowing Natasha’s probably in it, but it explodes before you can get close and do anything, the door flying and Natasha falling out of it coughing.

Once you’re sure she’s okay, you turn around but Rumlow’s already gone.

“Sam. He's in an AFV heading north.” you hear Steve say and, sharing a nod with Natasha, you get back onto your bikes and run to catch up with the truck.

“I got six, they're splitting up.” Sam says just as you and Natasha get to where they ditched the truck.

Natasha jumps onto a car and then another and you follow her. “I got the two on the left.” she says.

“I got the middle!” you say and start your pursuit.

“They ditched their gear. It's a shell game now.” you hear Steve say as you run after your two guys. “One of them has the payload.”

Just as you manage to catch up to your guys and knock one of them out, you can hear Sam saying “He doesn't have it. I’m empty.”

You quickly take down the other guy and search through them. “I struck out, too.”

Then you hear Natasha say “Payload secure.” and you allow yourself to relax.

“Thanks, Sam.” She adds.

“Don't thank me.” he answers and you frown, confused as you start making your way back.

“I’m… not thanking that thing.” is all Natasha needs to say for you to understand, and you roll your eyes.

“His name is Redwing.” Sam corrects her.

“I'm still not thanking it.” she says.

“He's cute. Go ahead, pet him.” he says and you can’t help but laugh.

Your amusement is cut short as you hear Steve’s grunts, clearly still in a fight and you try to move faster to make your way to him.

You catch up right after Wanda, just as Rumlow says “And you're coming with me.��� and activates the bomb vest he’s wearing.

You don’t have time to even try and cover yourself as Wanda keeps the blast contained in a ball around Rumlow, his screams the only thing that can be heard.

She launches him in the air and the ball of energy explodes too close to the building next to it, setting a couple of floors on fire.

As you all watch in horror, you barely register Steve asking Sam for Fire and Rescue as you put your hands on Wanda’s shoulders and turn her away from the building. You let her rest her head on your shoulder as she starts crying, your own shocked attention still on the building.

This is not good.

-

It’s been a rough couple of days for the team after the mission in Lagos.

You’re all back at the compound now, and you’re on your way to the conference room to wait there for Tony when you pass Wanda’s room and hear her talking to Steve.

“Rumlow said ‘Bucky’ and… all of a sudden I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn.” Steve pauses “And people died. It's on me.”

“It's on both of us.” Wanda counters.

“This job…” Steve starts “we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time… maybe nobody gets saved.” 

You see Vision approach and keep walking to make your way to the conference room, exchanging a knowing nod with him.

When you get there you’re a little startled to see The Secretary of State, but you sit down at the table in silence.

Once everyone gets there, Steve sits at the head of table, to his left Sam, then Vision and then Wanda, to his right you then Natasha, then Rhodey and Tony is sitting in a chair by himself to the right of the table.

Secretary Ross is on his feet in front of the table and, once everyone takes a seat, he starts talking.

“Five years ago, I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my back-swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass… I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me: Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some… who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’”

“And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

“How about ‘dangerous’?” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Definitely not the word you were expecting “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

Ross activates a screen behind him and News footage from past Avengers and SHIELD matters flash on the screen as he speaks.

“New York.” A Chitauri leviathan. Terrified citizens. A soldier firing a gun. The Hulk smashes into a building and sends a dust cloud that engulfs the camera. Rhodey looks regretful and he glances behind him at Natasha.

“Washington DC.” The three Insight helicarriers, firing on each other. The destroyed Triskelion. A helicarrier crashing into the Potomac and throwing up a massive wave, engulfing citizens and the camera. You and Sam look at each other, then down.

“Sokovia.” Terrified citizens, running. The city rising. A building falling over. Everyone’s eyes are glued to the screen.

“Lagos.” The burning building. Paramedics moving a body. A dead girl. Wanda is particularly affected by the footage from Lagos. Steve sees this and intervenes.

“Okay. That's enough.” Steve says, looking at Wanda.

Secretary Ross nods to his aide and the images disappear, then he starts talking again.

“For the past four years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” he places a thick document on the desk and passes it to Wanda. She looks at it and then slides it over to Rhodey. “The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

“The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place.” Steve points out. “I feel we've done that.”

“Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” Steve looks up and meets Ross's eyes. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there'd be consequences.”

You narrow your eyes at him. They’re people, not weapons. Before you can voice your thoughts he goes on. “Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.” He points at the Accords.

“So, there are contingencies.” Rhodey says, familiar with the politics by now.

“Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords.” Steve glances at Tony “Talk it over.”

He starts to walk away when you speak up for the first time. “And if we come to a decision you don't like?”

Ross stops and looks back at you. “Then you retire.” he deadpans.

You simply nod, trying to stifle a grin and, when you look at Natasha, you can see she’s doing the same.

He leaves with his aide and there’s a moment of silence before you all get up and walk quietly to the common room. Some sitting, some standing and Tony laying down on a chair. And then the discussion starts.

-

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor, which is one more than you have.” Rhodey says to sam. You’ve lost track of how long the team has been discussing.

“So let's say we agree to this thing. How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam,” He leans in to look at Sam since you’re currently between the two men. “and you're just like, ‘No, that's cool. We got it.’”

“Why am I always in the middle of this?” you say, a little exasperated at the two that are almost glaring at each other now, you make eye contact with Nat and she clearly feels the same way you do.

“How long are you going to play both sides?” Sam says, ignoring your comment.

“I have an equation.” Vision jumps in and everyone looks at him.

“Oh, this will clear it up.” you say sarcastically and cross your arms in front of your chest.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.” Vision explains.

“Are you saying it's our fault?” Steve asks.

“I'm saying there may be a causality.” Vision clarifies, before going on “Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom.” Rhodey says and you roll your eyes while Sam glares at him.

“Tony. You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.” Natasha points out.

“It's because he's already made up his mind.” Steve says.

“Boy, you know me so well.” Tony says sarcastically and gets up, rubbing his head. “Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache.”

He walks to the kitchen and grabs a mug before continuing. “That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort- Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

He puts his phone in a basket and taps it, the phone projects an image of a smiling young man. He looks down, then back up, and pretends to notice the picture for the first time. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.” Everyone is listening to him intently as he seems to be having a little meltdown, but his words are clearly affecting the whole team.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” He pauses and takes a pill with some coffee, then faces you all. “There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.” Steve says.

“Who said we're giving up?” Tony promptly answers.

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions.” Steve counters. “This document just shifts the blame.”

“I'm sorry. Steve. That- that is dangerously arrogant.” Rhodey says. “This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”

“No, but it's run by people with agendas, and agendas change.” you interject, seeing Steve’s point.

“That's good. That's why I'm here.” Tony says, pointing at you. “When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Tony, you chose to do that.” you tell him, then Steve talks, nodding at you.

“She’s right. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” Steve says.

“If we don't do this now, it's gonna be done to us later.” Tony reasons. “That's the fact. That won't be pretty.”

“You're saying they'll come for me.” Wanda speaks up for the first time since this discussion started.

“We would protect you.” Vision says confidently.

“Could we?” you say and everyone looks at you, so you elaborate. “If we don’t sign this we’re criminals for even trying to keep her safe. If we do sign, it’ll be our job to come for her if we get ordered to.”

There’s a moment of silence while you all think about this, before Natasha speaks up. “Maybe Tony's right.”

You all look at her, surprised. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off-” she gets interrupted by Sam.

“Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?”

“He’s not wrong, Tasha.” You add.

“I'm just… I'm reading the terrain.” She explains. “We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up.” Tony says and looks at Natasha, clearly amused. “I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?” you roll your eyes.

“Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed--I win.”

They all start to talk over each other, but you’re focused on Steve’s phone that you can see over his shoulder since you’re standing right behind him. He gets a text that says ‘She’s gone. In her sleep.’ and you frown, watching Steve quickly get up.

“I have to go.” is all he says while dropping the Accords on the coffee table and, when he exits the room, you exchange a worried glance with Sam.

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham

[deathwaltz-ao3]

Hi. Finis here. Just wanted to say one of my fave fics by you is I Get Mean When Nervous Like A Bad Dog bc I think it's a really interesting look at Jing Yuan's character? Like he is a very chill guy and that's obvious, but idk, he's somebody who has lived through a lot of stuff and nobody around him ever seems to like, stay. He's pretty old and I think you're one of the few people i've seen actually explore a more "mean" side so to speak in a way that isn't played as sexy/for a sexual story and genuinely feels like an instance of him lashing out as a result of the stuff he's dealt with. The title sums it up really well, a sense of being so unsettled one becomes hostile to protect themselves, even when it's against people they'd never want to do that to (Like with Yanqing and Luocha). It's a good character study!

Also really liked the part of Luocha brushing aside the lamb comparison for a ram. He's also somebody who is guarded, and while he's not like a physical combatant, he's still hella smart and protects himself in that way, even outsmarting Jing Yuan. It was nice to see neither party's character compromised for the sake of the ship, Luocha may not be dangerous in the way Jing Yuan is but he is still dangerous nonetheless (Plus both rams and lambs have significant biblical themes which match his relationship with Yaoshi/jesus parallels). Anyways. Sorry if this is bothersome I just really like your work and Jingluo and analysis is like my thing (please imagine me gesturing vaguely at my blog) so like. Yeah! Have a good day/night!

ohmygod im like giggling and kicking my feet rn THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS AUSUAUAUUU 😭🙏‼️‼️‼️ it makes me so happy when people give me their opinions on fics i write and honestly the whole reason i wrote that fic was because i just couldn’t get the idea out of my head

I rarely see people touch on Jing Yuan’s more aggressive side?? If that’s how you can word it? I mean with years of being alive and watching his friends be torn apart along with being affected with mara there’s no way he’s mentally stable 😭 and I just really wanted to write something based on that idea because I love him so much

And thank you for noticing Luocha’s part!!!! I really didn’t want his character to be like submissive or something when faced with Jing Yuan’s aggression because he’s not!!! he’s so incredibly smart and definitely guarded. I did write him being surprised because of his growing comfort with Jing Yuan’s love so for the latter to suddenly snap his jaws at Luocha would probably surprise him just a little 🤞

AGAIN THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LEAVING THIS IM STILL TWEAKING AAAA more fics will come soon so stay tuned!!! :3

[blametheeditor]

Day 14 | Experiment

Gt July Prompt List

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When stranded on an uncharted underwater planet, alone and surrounded by hostile lifeforms, there are only two possible outcomes: adapt and survive, or die trying.

Spoilers: For the game Subnautica

Content Warnings: Mentions of death and violence. Mentions of drowning and suffocation.

________________________

There was a saying he once heard. About bravery and stupidity being one in the same. 

Fritz and David can’t tell the difference. 

Vincent isn’t any better considering he’s done nothing to stop it.

The funny part is that their stupidity and bravery are very different from each other. Fritz is all too happy to trust his life with someone who can kill him. David rushes headfirst into everything without knowing what’s waiting. It’s a dangerously entertaining combination that Vincent just can’t look away from. 

He’s also worried what might happen when he does. Because he still doesn’t trust Fritz. 

The human has absolutely no sense of self preservation, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t malicious intent. Or, even worse, unintentional malice. No one knows why the human’s here, why the ship he came in crashed, and how much he knows about the tools he possesses. For all they know, there might be directions blindly being followed without knowing what they’re for. 

He hasn’t exactly been able to ask. Not with how protective David is. And not after Fritz’s visceral reaction to hearing his own language. So the best Vincent can do is keep an eye on them. 

And help David use the tiny ship as entertainment. 

Vincent watches as the reaper slowly grows closer to the wreckage Fritz disappeared into. Stopping whenever it seems like the human’s going to appear again. Because after the ship got stolen a multitude of times, they’ve been watched closely to make sure it’s not taken without its usual passenger. 

When Fritz does appear, he climbs in only for a few moments before leaving again to continue his known tasks, not noticing just how close a leviathan had gotten. 

As soon as the human’s out of sight, David snatches the ship away with his mandibles before swimming off triumphantly. 

Vincent immediately darts forward to try and take the stolen item for himself. Attempts to knock it away with a well placed turn that’s worked fairly well every other time he’s done it. David finally gotten smart enough though, the reaper turning with him to avoid the extensions on his back. Swims away with an angry roar as the ghost chases after him. 

“I just want a turn with it!” 

“Then why don’t you steal it!” 

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Vincent taunts. 

When his target gets too far away, he changes directions and darts down to the seafloor. Waits coiled up for the reaper to swim above him. Charges right as David’s about to roar, ramming into the larger leviathan and managing to knock the ship away. 

Before he can bat it down into the abyss, David lunges toward him, forcing Vincent to dodge less he get caught by the powerful mandibles. 

“Too slow!” 

“Get back here!” 

"Guys! I need the ‘sub’!” 

The quiet voice distracts David enough to let Vincent escape, turning to see Fritz waving his arms in order to get the leviathan’s attention. He looks entertained by what he witnessed, but panicked as well. Maybe even a little fearful. That’s reassuring knowing there might be a sense of self-preservation after all.

Too bad David doesn’t seem to respect that. Not when he grabs the small ship again and refuses to bring it closer to the waiting human. “Well come get it.” 

Vincent can barely contain his laughter at the look of absolute terror at having to chase down someone absolutely massive in comparison and has no issue fighting anyone over the item he’s claimed. “Please, David, I really need it!” 

“If you need it, then you’ll- hey!” 

The ghost grins as he knocks the ship away before batting it toward the human. “Trying to kill him, David?” 

His question has the reaper freeze, stopping him from snatching the needed item away before Fritz can climb inside in order to face the ghost questioning his actions. “I’m not killing him.” 

“It sure looked like it,” Vincent muses as he watches the human David’s awfully fond of taking deep breaths as he sits in the ship. Looks like he was a little too close to running out of air. “All living things need to breathe.” 

The reaper gives a fierce glare. “He was in the water the entire time.” 

The ghost stares, trying to figure out if he heard that right. “Humans don’t have gills, David.” 

The blank look has Vincent realize it’s a miracle Fritz hasn’t gotten killed by pure accident. Not only that, but it puts into perspective David really has no idea what a human really is. 

Oh this is just perfect. 

“Do I have to tell you he doesn’t have fins, either?” Vincent sneers. 

“How was I supposed to know!” the reaper exclaims, confirming he assumed humans are just some kind of mutated monstrosity rather than an entirely different species. One’s that aren’t born and raised in an ocean. “I’m not an expert on humans, unlike someone who keeps flaunting his knowledge. Why haven’t you told me these things!” 

“Well I assumed you were smart enough to know he’s not a fish.” 

“I know he’s not a fish!” 

“David thought I was a fish?” Fritz suddenly butts in. Seems to immediately regret his words when the reaper’s anger gets redirected toward him and away from Vincent, grabs a metal bar to keep him steady out of fear the ship will get snatched up. 

“No,” David hisses instead of lunging toward the human. “You just failed to mention you don’t have gills.” 

“Gills,” Vincent softly translates when Fritz only stares warily. Smiles when there’s not a negative reaction to him using the harsh language, just a grateful look. He’ll have to start sneaking in more words.

“I’m sorry,” is quickly apologized before David can decide to get upset over seemingly being ignored. “I-I didn’t mean to trick you.” 

The reaper growls lowly, his mandibles shifting in anger. Huffs to state he won’t be exploding with rage this time. Though it doesn’t stop him from grabbing the ship again and begin to swim back toward the shallows as Fritz yells with the sudden movement. “Anything else I should know?” 

“Um-m-m...” 

Vincent waits for Fritz to take advantage of this opportunity. To ask if he can build something that will guaranteed be approved now that David understands humans have different needs than their own. Such as a dry place to stay. Bigger ships to go deeper. Asking with the excuse it’s for personal wellbeing, only to build something that could kill them. 

But the human shakes his head. “I-I don't think so."

David releases the ship once they’re in the shallows, growling as he swims off to patrol the area to make sure nothing invaded his territory while he was away. Trusts they’ll stay where he left them until he returns. And they do. Fritz doesn’t jump into the water. Vincent coils up on the seabed.

It’s quiet.

“Hey Fritz.” 

He’s given a surprised look. “Yes, Vincent?” 

“Why are you here?” 

Fritz’s expression turns into one of confusion. “In the shallows?” 

"In this ocean,” he clarifies.

“Oh,” is murmured almost too soft to hear. Fritz then looks out to where David’s shadow circles, taking a deep breath. “We were never supposed to be here.” 

So humans coming back was a mistake. The ship crashed because it wasn’t meant to come here. It’s a miracle anyone survived it. 

Or, Fritz is another experiment without knowing he is. Being used to see if there’s another way to capture leviathans. This time in a way they’ll never know what’s coming. 

...they chose the wrong human if that’s the case. David was right about him being harmless. 

“You need a dry space in the water,” Vincent begins as he looks Fritz over, smirking at the human being genuinely shocked at the suggestion. "Can you make one?"

“I, I can. W-Would you mind? Would David be mad?” 

“Don’t worry about David, I’ll give you enough time,” the ghost reassures. Directs his attention toward the reaper returning from him patrol before Fritz can protest. “Fritz needs a dry place to stay.” 

“A dry place?” 

“I thought we established he’s not a fish.” 

“I know he's- you can’t just say dry place and expect me to understand!” David yells, looking seconds away from chasing Vincent out of the shallows and never letting him return.

Perfect! “Well I don’t know the specifics-” 

The ghost is unable to finish his sentence before David launches himself forward with a roar, careful to not send Fritz spinning through the water as he chases after Vincent.

“You've got ten minutes!” 

“Ten minutes for what!” 

“Don’t worry about it!”

[ddelline]

wip wednesday (feat fresh fandom f*ckery)

blurb | "non-jjk wip posting? on the ddelline/aosc dash? straight to jail" - whoever reads this blog for jjk fic only, probably. sry if you are!!! I promise this =/= abandoning ship, I'm just dillying, dallying, dabbling. in mha. and bkdk. next to jjk that's where I've ended up putting my most obsessive behavior in the past few months; dipped my toe into the manga and emerged 4 months later as an unapologetic bakugō katsuki defender w early onset of bkdk brainrot. now if that interests you, there's wip fic to be had under the cut! if it doesn't, then rest assured that there'll be wip updates a-comin for 3 jjk projects in the near future, lol

premise | post-canon, pro hero setting; slow burn-ish getting together-premise; bkdk as roommates & established wonder duo-partners feat pro hero!shenanigans, sudden emotional realizations, domesticity, action, mixed media & more - also me attempting 2 write lighter, snarkier & dramedy-adjacent. evaluation pending, lmao. either way, wip writing under the cutttt

The sort of monumental, life-altering understanding that Katsuki’s experiencing, sadly, hadn’t hit him like a battering ram of iridescent, incandescent realization, topped off with cartoon hearts and biblical choirs, or whatever. The march towards death had begun with the most inane fucking single step, and here he is, feeling like an idiot, and feeling, like an idiot, every other hour since then. 

Katsuki knows he’s not the most emotionally intelligent person on the block, and he knows that he’s hitting new and consistent deduction-lows when it comes to him-and-Izuku each and every day now. Still, if there’s the possibility of getting a refund on your personal emotional breakthroughs—he’d like one.

He’s ducking beneath hastily drawn police tape, sweat sticky and sooty, hours later, making a beeline towards where the concrete dust-matte green cap of Izuku’s head centers a cluster of reporters. They’ve caught him halfway to where a team of EMTs are waiting, long suffering, to attend to him. Katsuki resists the urge to facepalm.

“—stically, how would you analyze this recent string of public showdowns that you’ve had to deal with? Do you make anything of the increased number of hostile villain encounters you’ve had in the past weeks?”

Izuku scratches his scalp, upsetting a few errant curls. “Y’know, I wouldn’t think much of them, in the sense you’re probably thinking of them. It’s true there have been a few major ‘public showdowns’, as you say,” God bless him (curse him, actually) but he actually makes double quotations to go along. “There’s a common denominator here, what you’re talking about—it’s the arrests you’ve featured on the evening segment a few times. Right?”

Izuku’s suit is torn: a jagged ugly line bisects his hero garb and compression sleeve from mid-tricep to mid-forearm. It’s displaying an ugly gash frothing with blood. As the clump of broadcast-vultures chuckle in tandem he continues—seemingly ignorant of his injury and Katsuki’s impending arrival both—gesticulating animatedly, “Any hostile confrontations we experience whilst on patrol would technically categorize as ‘public showdowns’, but we’ve had—oh, Kacch—Dynamight!”

It’s a scene like any other, on a kind of-interchangeable end of patrol-day: they’ve just squashed an armed robbery-slash-hostage situation, had half a block rupture beneath them during the ensuing chase (neither of them are at fault, Katsuki’ll have their insurance carrier know) and are now stuck doing the obligatory clean-up-and-press-junket half hour. Izuku’s elbow is bleeding something fierce whilst he’s talking to reporters; he’s clasping both palms and twining his fingers, untwines them and raises both arms to gesticulate; lowers his hands and re-clasps his palms—all as he does when he’s faced with press and has to talk ad hoc for extended periods of time.

None of this is particularly out of the ordinary; despite it or in spite of, Katsuki doesn’t know—the amalgamation of the above turns out to be why, when three mic’d up reporters make a narrow path into the cluster for Katsuki to enter into the throng, his first instinct, his knee-jerk reaction, is to be angry.

Izuku clasps his far shoulder. Katsuki shrugs his hand off and ducks near his ear. “You’re injured.”

“Huh? I’m not?” says Izuku quizzically. He looks around and about himself. Katsuki clocks the second he notices his own elbow: the spasm of a lone muscle in his cheek, the embarrassed grit of his jaw—the if you squeal in front of the press you die-look he spears Katsuki with before turning back to the pack. 

Izuku continues, bleeding but thoughtful: “What was I saying? Oh, yeah—I couldn’t talk about the ‘public showdowns’, as you say, without mentioning that any and all hostile confrontations we face on patrol belong to the same statistic. Really, they’re the same as they’ve always been—I wouldn’t say anything’s decreased or increased since a few years. Right?” He squares Katsuki with an inquisitive look.

Katsuki fights the urge to bare his teeth; he sucks down a deep breath, counts to five, and indulges his vulture-friendly maniac of a hero partner. “Because I’m not fucking lame I’m not gonna echo Pinky and say: ‘Another day, another slay.’” A few errant chuckles from the crowd; yeah, Katsuki’s a fucking comedian. “With that said, yeah, what Deku said—I dunno who was on site two days ago, DHN? JNN? JHT? I see all of you nodding, whatever; doesn’t matter—you’re drawing conjecture based on what you see. Shit happens when you’re not here, too.” Katsuki eyeballs the keeper of the JHT mic. “That doesn’t mean shit is happening. Not sure what the point of this is, but not everything’s a damn story—so I’m gonna take Hero Deku—” Katsuki snags Izuku by the collar, “—and go somewhere not where you lot are. He’s bleeding and you’re not. That’s not the end of the world either, in case that’s the doomsday headline you wanna draw up. That’s all. Scatter, fuckers!”

Izuku pouts when Katsuki drags him backwards through the clamoring throng of reporters. “We could’ve done a few more questions.”

Katsuki thinks: I knew I was fine dying for this asshole years ago.

Katsuki says: “We could’ve. We aren’t, though. Fuckface, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

Izuku glances down at himself. “It’s not that bad.”

“No? Tell that to the medteam, who’ll be the ones to explain to the public why unfortunately, due to erroneous judgment on the patient’s part, Pro Hero Deku lost mobility in his left arm a scant four years into his illustrious Symbol of Hope-era.” Katsuki squares him with a thin glare. “Also—tell that to your mom, who wants to put you on a direct flight to an isolated Siberian bunker where you can’t hurt yourself—she’s got a point.”

Izuku eyeballs him. “Kacchan,” he intones, “You’re overly dramatic sometimes.”

“Izuku,” Katsuki mocks, “You’re overly self-sacrificial all the time. Shut up and go see the EMTs.”

The march towards death had begun with the most inane fucking single step, and here he is, feeling, like an idiot, thinking: I knew I was fine dying for this asshole before I knew I was in dumb fucking love with him.

Well, go figure.

[chronussy-bc]

Train's & Sephiria's Ambiguous Relationship

Note: this is a post with little to no value for story analysis since my opinions can be bias and paranoia when it comes to this ship. This also gonna be long as hell with many parts so i that don't ram all the info in one place, and it will take a long time before I can write and post all of them.

So as I have re-read the manga to the point it became unhealthy, I can’t help but sensing something is going on between Train and Sephiria. They don’t explicitly show anything, but since the two are both the type to hide their true feelings when it comes to sentimental matters, their seemingly indifferent attitude towards one another (especially Train) just adds more to my suspicion.

Needless to say, Train is certainly a "special existence" to Sephiria. He is the first one she thinks of whenever something happens. While it is unclear if she pays more attention to his ability or him, she definitely does not mean to exploit him in a heartless way. It's true that she care for him a lot more than how it should be normally, to the point that Xiao Li can realize it. However, her organization and her Numbers always seems to worth her prioritizing more than he does, both rationally and emotionally.

It's a bit harder to tell with Train, however, since he ignores everything that has to do with Chronos. But he does trust Sephiria a lot, despite knowing how malnipulative she can be. It's important to remember that malnipulative people are the one of type he hates the most. He doesn't like controlling others or being controlled. He is outwardly doubtful of Rinslet, though not in a hostile way, because she has had some suspiscious attempts in the past. He holds Sephiria in high regards, even calling her captain after he has left. The rank addressing maybe just a slip of the tongue, but it shows how he does not object to her being the one who gives him order that much. His wish to leave mainly stems from the Elders and their rules.

There are hints across the story about how he kinda has a soft spot for her that I will elaborate below.

1. Volume 5:

This is when Sephiria was first introduced. It was shown in the picture here that Train froze on the spot for a short while when he saw her from the window. Since Sven noticed him going to see what’s going on down there and still did not hear him say anything, he had to ask Train about it himself.

While it must partly because he was not expecting her appearance, seeing that often people of her rank would not go to do business personally when it’s not a global-scale significant one, I believe Train’s reaction is still something special. Throughout the manga, Train is rarely taken aback by the presence of anyone, even from his enemies. Prior to Sephiria’s visit, Berze had also come across Train’s gang on the street, yet Train acted quite natural, despite having some secs of reflexive surprise.

In Vol.3, their meeting with Berze:

In Vol.10, their meeting with Echidna and Charden:

With Charden:

With Echidna:

He literally could not care less unless it was about the safety of his friends (Echidna’s case), and if you re-read, the way Berze turned up it’s much more dramatic than Sephiria in Vol.5. However, Train’s usual manner, even just for a short while, slipped only when he saw her. He was definitely well aware that Sephiria did not mean any harm, he knows she is better than that. And-yet-he-still-froze.

Another thing is how Sephiria addressed Eve on their first meeting. Given that she had discovered about Train’s whereabout, I suppose Sephiria would have also done some research on his partners as well, so she probably knew Eve’s name. Nevertheless, Kentaro Yabuki let her call Eve by the exact nickname Train gave her. It was weird, for someone as polite as Sephiria to act so out of courtesy, because up to that point she was a total stranger to the girl. Japanese people do heed the addressing seriously. Similar to Western culture, they will use last name, or must be name in this case (Eve doesn’t have last name), for people they aren’t as close with or superiors. Not to mention Sephiria addresses Train by Heartnet almost the entire series.

During that talk, Sephiria’s purpose for her visit was quite clear. She said that Chronos was intending to rely on the sweepers force to capture Creed and handed them the wanted poster, announcing that the bounty for his head was serious and stuff. With all that information, it is pretty obvious that she was asking Train a favor, seeking his cooperation. Yet, the fact that she was aiming to “use” him still disappointed Train somewhat, even if he could tell that her hands were tied.

The panel before this one was the one in which Sephiria confirmed that it was totally Chronos’s idea, and it is visible here that Train was a bit amazed by that news. After the realization, he smiled this ‘Oh-so-turns-out-you-only-come-because-Chronos-requires-my-ability-again.’ smile to her. But, what did he expect, like…for real? She had explained the circumstance and obviously did not mean anything else besides business. Optimizing every resource available has always been Chronos’s way, which he knew. Sephiria showing up at his door is enough to tell Chronos wants something from him.

Of course, being an experienced manipulative a** (sorry Sephie it’s true), Sephiria understood how he would feel. She noticed his unease at the offer and changed tactic, striking at his weak spot which is Saya’s death. This is the first time Sephiria tried to manipulate him in the story imo, and she always seemed to get away with it because Train did not wish to conflict with her.

Why saying she was manipulating? The fact that she came with Berze to Train’s place while it was unnecessary was proof. If it was just because she wanted to inform things and allow him time to think on the offer, etc…Berze could have done it alone. The trio met Berze before her, they had seen that he did not pursue bloodshed. It was fine to let him do the job. But being the woman whom he still holds in high regard even now, Sephiria had probably accompanied her deputy to raise the successful rate. She knows that her presence affects him in some ways. It could be said that she played it smart, but it is a kind of manipulation, or persuading strategy, for understatement.

[thewolfisawake]

Name: Nico Pagonis

Birth Name: Apollyon / Syuuya Marufuji

Personality:

Nico is a rather easy-going guy, not wanting really wanting to get involved with any conflict. He tends to have what he’s feeling show on his face and does a lot of gesturing when he speaks. As such, one would think he’s very honest...which he is...to an extent. Getting good graces and then getting away with things because ‘he would never’ is Nico’s MO. And failing that, he has charisma or plain hoofing it bail himself out. 

Background:

(cw: death)

Nico didn’t know his birth father and had his mother for a short time. Long enough for him to know both of his names before she disappeared, never to return. This led to Nico being taken in a friend of the family, Clytus Pagonis. This was not a popular decision and not one that went unnoticed by Nico.

He could feel the anger and contempt of his adoptive mother as well as the jealousy from the children. It radiated off them so he had tried to avoid them as a result and found some solace with the cook, Faidra, who put him to work if he was going to loiter around. His time in the kitchen led to the improvement of his situation with the Pagonis. To the point that the children viewed him as their sibling. His adoptive mother though still was icy towards him. 

Nico thought this was from the bits of trouble he would get into due to being able to see what others couldn’t. He was thought to be an attention seeker because of it and so he became reluctant to report what he saw to anyone except Faidra. However it would take time to understand what he saw and it was fleeing from one of these that Nico would meet a certain lady.

This lady had taken offense to him just ramming into her without so much as a sorry. Nico, still a bit dazed, had offered a treat he had made as an apology. She took a bite and said that his magic wouldn’t flatter her. He didn’t get what she meant and explained it was just him saying sorry. Realizing he really did not know, the woman explained that he pours magic into his cooking and that it’s dangerous to use it so recklessly. Initially he doesn’t believe her and turns to leave when he sees the creature and backs into her, who doesn’t seem fazed, “So this is where you wandered off. If you want to go home so bad, fine, off with you. Be lucky I found something more fascinating.”

And with a wave of...where did that staff come from? The beast had been turned back to a man, who fled. And Nico, witnessing this, realized this lady knew what she meant and that she wasn’t a playing a trick. So she asks if he would like to learn properly and terrified but curious, Nico accepts. And through teaching, he found that he became a student to Circe and where he officially gotten his nickname of Nico, since Circe said his real name was a curse. He hides the true extent of what he learns from his family, saying he found an apprenticeship of sorts.

When he learned to pull back his errant magic, Nico figured out that he had indeed poured magic into his makings. It was why the feelings towards him had shifted, he made that connection and shifted the feelings in his favor. It was why he had times he had fallen violently ill, because he asked for too much and it took from him. Weirdness in his life started to make sense and he thought to correct his mistake so that he can start again fresh.

However, there were two things that went to hell because of this. One was the uneasy peace with his adoptive mother. Her iciness became hostility that not even her husband nor children could contain. She started accusing Clytus of only taking Nico in because he was in love with Helena, Nico’s birth mother, and that he was an unfaithful man. This Nico could deal with but he wasn’t prepared for Faidra’s health starting to fail. She was would get better for a little then get worse. 

It was one day that Faidra had already been taken to her daughter’s family for care and Nico had come to the kitchen to find Faidra there. She insisted on making portokalopita, one of the first things she made with him and for him to take note. They worked together and upon completion and making a piece for themselves, Nico started to cry. He realized that she had passed and because of his sight, he could see her one last time. And this was her last wish to him. 

His bad news didn’t end there as it was only after that Circe told him that it was his magic that had sustained her for so long. Because of an innocent wish to ‘help Faidra again,’ he made a connection and strengthened her. However because of his control, he no longer imbued his food like this. He demanded to know why she wouldn’t tell him of this. And she gravely told him that it was for his own safety. While Faidra could’ve probably hobbled along this long...Nico continuing to interfere would probably displease a certain god that didn’t like people cheating them. Or possibly any others.

Nico didn’t understand what she meant by this but these events made him, for a time, resent his powers. Powers he still didn’t understand where they came from. While his father was a lost cause, he could at least interrogate and maybe find a lead for the woman that was his mother...which led to his encounter with Noita.

Miscellaneous: 

Nico has the ‘sight,’ that allows him to see yokai and ghosts, however his sight like his sibling’s make it where a lot of beings are as solid as a normal being to him.

Nico’s magic has him make a connection via food or drink and then he can make small manipulations. Anything stronger or push back from an individual strains him.

He does have heterochromia, marking him as a person of exceptional power to the Marufuji clan. He has the signature wisteria colored eye and a pale blue eye.

Yes, he has godly culinary skill.

[ill-try-to-do-book-reviews]

Survivor Song

Paul Tremblay

RATING: 🕯🕯🕯🕯 (4/5)

Yet again, I've read a book by an author I'm previously (but vaguely) familiar with and am here to review it. Paul Tremblay's name is one that comes up frequently when asking for horror novel suggestions, and for good reason. Survivor Song was a mere 300ish pages, allowing me to tear through it in 6 and a half hours. Following Ramola and Natalie's journey was heart-and-gutwrenching, and worth every single second.

SUMMARY: In a matter of weeks, Massachusetts has been overrun by an insidious rabies-like virus that is spread by saliva. But unlike rabies, the disease has a terrifyingly short incubation period of an hour or less. Those infected quickly lose their minds and are driven to bite and infect as many others as they can before they inevitably succumb. Hospitals are inundated with the sick and dying, and hysteria has taken hold. To try to limit its spread, the commonwealth is under quarantine and curfew. But society is breaking down and the government's emergency protocols are faltering.

Dr. Ramola "Rams" Sherman, a soft-spoken pediatrician in her mid-thirties, receives a frantic phone call from Natalie, a friend who is eight months pregnant. Natalie's husband has been killed—viciously attacked by an infected neighbor—and in a failed attempt to save him, Natalie, too, was bitten. Natalie's only chance of survival is to get to a hospital as quickly as possible to receive a rabies vaccine. The clock is ticking for her and for her unborn child.

Natalie’s fight for life becomes a desperate odyssey as she and Rams make their way through a hostile landscape filled with dangers beyond their worst nightmares—terrifying, strange, and sometimes deadly challenges that push them to the brink.

MY DETAILED REVIEW (SPOILER WARNING): Survivor Song is a book about rabies. I am terrified of rabies. I knew, logically, what I was getting into when I borrowed the book. Animals, and their deaths, does not bother me. The actualization of the effects of rabies on animals does. Tremblay portrays the few animals mentioned in such a way that the imagery stuck with me throughout my entire read and will probably stay with me even beyond that.

That is the most immediate thing in my mind about this book, but I have a feeling the entire story will have impacted me more than I can realize yet.

This book had me by the throat instantly. From the first few scenes, there is an inescapable sense of unease building. That unease very quickly morphs into absolute terror as Natalie and Paul's home is broken into, invaded, by an infected man with no intentions other than harm. The struggle between the three of them had me holding my breath from start to finish. I knew that Natalie had to survive, but I wasn't sure on what Paul's fate would be. I knew he would be bitten, but I did not expect him to have his neck snapped in the process.

The choice to start with Natalie and then switch to Ramola, and primarily follow Ramola's point of view was an interesting one. Using Natalie's Voyager logs to track her own descent was also interesting, and neither in a negative way. Natalie's first few entries were heartbreaking, and watching her descend into madness from two different viewpoints was done masterfully.

There are a few moments in the story where the narrator interjects, provides us with information that none of the characters yet know and that only one will eventually find out. These moments are used incredibly sparingly, and they add absolutely perfectly to the general unease and sadness of the situation. The acknowledgement that in a mere matter of weeks, Dr. Awolesi will be proven correct, and the virus will kill itself off, was heartbreaking, put expertly in between the story of Josh and Luis.

Speaking of Josh and Luis, their inclusion in the story is one of my favorite parts. There remains a lot of mystery to them, which is intentional (as noted by the narrator, saying we know enough but never will), and knowing how young they are makes both of their deaths all the more horrible.

The scenes of Luis and Josh following one another through the woods, to some point none of us can know about, to some point they never get to reach, made me cry. I read some of it before bed and had to put down my phone for sleep, and the rest of it at work the following morning before my shift. Both times I had tears in my eyes. Luis and Josh's story coming to an end in the woods, so close to the end, was one that I expected, but one that hit incredibly hard nonetheless.

The end of Natalie's story was another one that was expected, but that didn't hit me quite so hard.

I found Natalie to be... hard to sympathize with. That, however, is my own problem, and not a fault of the story. Natalie's humor isn't my own style, and I've also never been pregnant and am generally detached from the concept, so her fear for her unborn child isn't one that I could find myself within. I did, however, find myself in her battling with her decision to be chosen above said unborn child if it came down to it.

The end of Natalie's story, in which Ramola is forced to perform a C-section in an empty farmhouse on her dying best friend, is written fantastically. The epilogue, of Lily, in England, years later and long detached from the epidemic overseas, is an inclusion that I am ambivalent towards. I didn't like it, not necessarily, but I certainly didn't hate it. I would've personally enjoyed the story more had it just ended with Ramola delivering the baby, but that's just me.

Overall, Survivor Song is a fantastic story that I loved reading and I would certainly recommend. It is a fantastic apocalypse story in its own right, and an even better commentary on the general state of the American public.

[stolencrownsofplenty]

@mouffete : x

being the only follower with a depth of knowledge when it comes to all things medicinal, Coco is glad to help accompany the Lamb when they go on a crusade. it only makes sense to keep a source of healing around in the moment rather than when it’s too late, but this method still comes with a risk when the follower in question isn’t experienced in battle. && Coco is anything but dangerous. he’s as aggressive as a guppy at best. naturally an accident is bound to occur at some point && it most certainly did with their most recent adventure. all it took was for the small fellow to get scattered amidst a chaotic moment, end up in the reach of an enemy, then— shluk! a nasty gash left on his chest. fortunately; not deep enough to be life threatening. unfortunately; high risk for infection && it hurts like a bitch. Coco is no stranger to using their practices on himself, yet there still lies the issue of needing to see the wound itself when tending to it. this particular issue leading to the conundrum now && the instructions that fall onto the skunk’s ears, which fold back in response. posture faltering as a breath gets caught in his throat. “my.. robe?”

“th-that’s all I’ve got on!” a pause to think, then he stammers on. “I mean - I have these… shorts, I guess. but I’m not used to showing my chest.” it’s not like Coco has anything to hide with the upper-half, though it doesn’t make it any less flustering.

The familiar whiff of crisp, spicy incense faintly burned in the skunk’s nose when the Lamb gently guided them to the smoothed out purple rug.  With it already abandoned by the giant, red feathered bird who had often read out the ewe’s fate in constant, the arcane reader’s sanction felt quite empty without his looming presence; leaving only a few blankets, violet pillows, and some leftover incenses forever smoking in the creature’s absence.  Little bits of sunlight leaks in overhead through Darkwood’s overhanging trees, where their branches softly creaked and hissed idly in a constant sway as a drifting breeze blew through its broken cracks.  For now, the pair had found themselves a quiet clearing, where the Emperor only had themselves to blame for not getting their fellow healer to safety sooner.  Often they’d keep their followers within a protective distance, always having their godly sword drawn for any threat of harm that would come to their flock, whenever they went to take some out for a long few day crusade to hunt for some heavy supplies.

In their haste earlier to mow through the persistent heretics that often tried to oppose their unquestionable rule, they still left themselves undeniably blindsided to a hostile swordsman that had snuck up upon the pair from behind.  In the chaos, they were occupied with an archer trying to aim for their many blind spots (with their one remaining eye already going white, and already depending on their crowns for their vision, the ram wasn’t without their faults), they didn’t sense right away the ground shifting in the slightest tilt before it was too late to deflect the oncoming blade.  For one of their own flock to draw blood on their watch… It felt only a blur to them when they heard their companion’s sharp outcry from behind.  All the ram could remember in the moment of their sparked fury, the lowly heretic was already left dead by their sword, sliced to pieces where one could barely recognize what it was to begin with.

But with a soft shake of their head to rid themselves of agitation, their golden chains sang out its jiggling chime, being the lightest warning to any creature that would dare to come near the Lamb’s claimed area.  Not if their heretics were smart enough to keep away, that is.

“We would not ask more of you if it meant we could find a way to work around this, Coco.”  The Emperor sighs with equal weariness.  With their red veil already left to hang by the nape of their neck, the dark shades of their colorful crowns sweep their many eyes down the poor follower’s wounded form.  Although their voice still held its familiar warmth towards the other, it could not be helped that the air felt cold every time they drew away their mask; allowing any mortal to feel the icy touch of their magical allure.  “But we’d be remiss to leave you bleeding out by a fault of our own.”  A palm quickly settles to the other’s back, their hand sprouting a dab of warmth through the idle cool of their wedding bands.  

In their earnestness, they offer the other a light smile.  “We can’t have our only healer faint on our watch, can we not?”  With a free hand, they gesture towards a big bean bag chair that looked a bit discolored, with fraying pinks at its edges where the weather must’ve affected it some.  “Besides, as much as we can go without days to eat, you still need your rest.  In sickness and hunger, we made a promise to provide through hardships.”  The Lamb allows themselves to pause for an instant.   “.. Would you like it if we kept each other on equal footing, Coco?”

[akshayaasblog]

Bloodletting on 5th Avenue

My father asked me once why I never wrote happy endings. It was because I never knew of one, and I could only write of what I knew. But I couldn’t tell him that- the truth of how things were. Not my mother, no, I could never tell her. I never told her anything anyway. I hadn’t spoken to her in years, not really. My sister- in her own trenches of despair, could take on no more. Besides, we never really did see eye-to-eye. And I’d already had no friends anymore. Not a soul knew. 

They wouldn't understand anyway.

How it had all chipped away at me, until all I had was just the barest parts of me left. And eventually, I had nothing, nothing at all left of me- a purged skeleton, a hollow shell, a weightless husk. It wasn’t just one thing, no, it was everything else too- one thing after the other. A cluster of instances, a sequence of tragedies, each discrete trauma piling onto the next- augmenting, compounding, overbearing. And how it had ripped but all out of me, first as abrasions on my skin, then lacerations, and then contusions, concussions, fractures, and then all the hemorrhaging on the bathroom floor that saw too many tears. An evisceration. I'm so hollow now.

And then I came to a strange place, I wished to explore, but was too dead inside to do so. 

I was dead inside. Do you hear me?

I felt nothing. There was concrete and there was steel, but I saw no colour. The greatest city in the world, the birthplace of culture, the pearl of the oyster- holographic, and I saw no colour.  The skyline beamed crassly with the jagged monotony of recursive rectangular blocks. Headlights loomed over tar roads where sirens howled against revolving lights that answer to calls of distress. There was so much distress. The giant billboards of Times Square- nothing but a giant corporate charade. What a farce. It all sucked the life out of me. All of this information- every cathode light, steel beam and concrete column. Every shuffle of a footstep, scuff on the traffic sign, every scratch on every brick of a brownstone wall. I see it all. Every step, every beat, every scribble- It's all too much. So much redundancy- futile as good advice to a lost soul. It’s always there, always so much, and yet I feel nothing at all. Nothing but a gnaw that grows and grows. It grew to a whisper, a voice, and then a battering ram against my temples.

I was dead inside and nobody heard me. The world was a cold and dark place, bleak and hostile, lonely and sad. Nobody else saw it either, they couldn't...oh, how could they? That was part of the tragedy, wasn't it? That they couldn’t see..what a cruel, cruel world we live in. And the disdain grew, grew to a mountain, a world, an entire universe upon me...a universe of disdain, of pain, of darkness, of suffering. I bore a universe of suffering upon me. Do you hear me?

...

What had I done? What had happened to me?

I haven’t moved in ages. There’s thornbush growing between my toes. They’ve taken root in the soil underneath my nails. They’re digging into my skin that crumbles like pumice stone. I’m so barren.  Nothing brought me joy anymore. Nothing made me happy. Every motion- an insurmountable task. Every thought- an unbearable burden. My mind had been taken from me, and in its place, a thousand mountains. Everything but my sense of self- taken from me. It’s always noisy. There’s no music anymore- watch me grieve. You are so far gone. No...no, that’s not true. Nothing’s changed. This is who I always was, don’t you remember?  Ever since you started becoming your own person, trying to find your place in this world, getting to know the world outside. You were always strange, lost, ugly, dirty, broken and in pain, never fit in, unfit, improper, insufficient, insignificant, unworthy, fractured. You ugly, broken thing. You are nothing. You are nobody. You had no right to be here, how dare you? You can't even get yourself out of bed, how pathetic. You sorry, broken thing. Leave, LEAVE right now. This world doesn’t need you, it doesn't require you.

But then, You’re too good for this world anyway, aren't you? Fuck everybody. All the contortions from bending to their will, my limbs fractured, my stomach haemorrhaging, my blood and guts on the bathroom floor. Who are you? 

Do you know how I am? Who I could be? What I'm capable of? You'll see. Watch me.

And then the grandeur kicks in. Soaring intellect and pipe dreams, thoughts of progress and realized purpose. My final salvation. You’ll be somebody...someday. Someday you'll achieve, and then you'll show them, won't you? Watch me. All my naysayers, my detractors, all the haters. I’m in the greatest city in the world, don't you know? The pearl of the oyster.

How I need all your approval- the irony escapes me. 

You'll be great, you'll be fantastic, you'll be recognized for all your value. That was all the driving force I had left. Unable to die, I cling desperately to a remnant sense of worldly ambition that I remain here for.  It was all I was inside aside from the suffering- it was...What an amazing person I could be, the unsung hero that you are.  Someday. And then it'll ease the suffering, won't it? Or at least make me realize my purpose despite the suffering, keep it at bay, set it aside for a bit. I could be someone of value. I'll be fantastic, you'll see. You'll show them all, won't you? The worthless little worms who all chipped away at you.

But how worthless I am today,  for never doing any of it- unable to try, unable to reach, unable to do anything. You worthless little worm. Every breath you breathe you're sucking oxygen out of this world, oxygen better spent elsewhere, your expanse of space- a grand charity. You're a disgrace- unused inertia, a stain upon this world, the hollow behind a drywall.  You’re nobody now, why the fuck would you be somebody someday?You are so far gone. You shitstain, skidmark, pile of garbage in the back-alley of a third-rate motel. What a delusion. How self-absorbed. How arrogant. How conceited. You're the same as the lot of them- the bottom-feed, the dirt of society. You're the deceit of a casino pretending to play a chess-game. You sicken me. You can’t even get yourself out of bed. Who the hell are you to be someone, you nobody?

I can hear them whisper. They’re all thinking it- the wicked, vile little creatures.  You’re nobody.

Everyone is. And we all suffer. At some point, we do, because that is what we are when we are all that remains. This slow hell we call life, do you see them all crawling? Life is suffering, laughter is a distraction, joy- a passing mirage, a house of cards, tumbleweed in the desert, 

a silliness, a callow indulgence, a foolish lie. 

The only constant is suffering and meaninglessness.

..

The city breathes. She chokes like she has cherry-seed stuck in her throat. Like a whore who had no choice but to be born and to breathe- be choked.  We’re all crash test dummies, lacking the needed faculties to thrive. But somehow we survive. What a cruel joke. Subsisting. With lives swimming in saltwater- the more you drink, the more you thirst. All anything does is go from bad to worse,  Some fraudulent solace passes as a charitable in-between, and then right back again; so it goes.

The click-clacking of keyboards and phones ringing. How was your day? What did you do last weekend? The words strain at me like nails on a chalkboard, and it grows, it grows to a bullhorn, a siren, to a battering ram against my temples. Nothing. I did nothing. I did nothing today, yesterday, last weekend, all of last week and last month, I can't even remember most of last year. I can’t even remember my last meal. Liar. Liars- the lot of them. You don’t want to know that. Not really. Stop asking me. Stop talking to me. Don't even look me in the eye. Leave me alone here, in the middle of nowhere. Nobodies living in nowheres. Everywhere is the middle of nowhere. Meaning is a construct. Life is misery. We’re all so unseen. Never truly ourselves, never truly belonging, never truly connecting; in these bullshit masquerade balls we call life. All the dancing in empty rooms full of people, limbs bending to noise we call music, marionettes flopping side-to-side to static, with muscles like trembling leaves turning spastic. Too many, toppling, turning. Trying, trying. Always trying. It’s always never quite, just almost, just a little longer, just a little harder, just a little and you’re almost there, you'll make it in life, just a sliver, just a hair, and one day life will finally be fair.

Fair. What a farce.

Hope is an endless cycle. It’s a foolish lie. Indulging in these fraudulent illusions, these petty things we resort to to make us forget. Have breakfast, feed the kids, go to work, eat, sleep, a few drinks at the end of the day, a few more on the weekends- some libations to mollify. And then again. How they all suffer, the poor things. 

We’re all crash test dummies, walking around pretending to know what we’re doing. We DON'T and we’re all liars. Lying, lying, keep lying. People are thoughtless, vile little creatures. The inflections on all these faces that I now recognize, couldn’t help but notice- the cadence of their voices, the pause between their words,  the countenance of their faces, the manner and contortions of their bodies. Every choice, every instinct, every inflection, glaring at me- revealing sorrow, resentment, condescension, arrogance, conceitedness, pride, pretence, predation. MALICE.

Taking, taking, keep taking. All the bodies burning in this slow hell we call life. It’s a jungle out there. 

The clack-clack-clacking of keyboards and bleat-bleat-bleating of sheep, Their beady little eyes, watching, lurching, everywhere. Paper tigers, russian dolls, and the cowardice of prey, They run, run, run. There’s nowhere to go anyway, Apex predators, wafer-thin egos and noses up in the air, They ravage and consume all with none left to spare, Their scheming faces, conniving, sly, bleating mouths that speak and sigh, The hunt plays out, vicious and vile, Watch me grieve as my childhood dies.

Does your God ever feel remorse?  Maybe we all deserve to suffer.

An unbearable loathing for humanity takes over.  The veil has lifted away.  You see this? Do you see this hellfire? The world is burning, don’t you see? Of course you don’t. That’s part of the tragedy, isn’t it? Remember. Remember, just how dark, how hostile, how callously cruel, how unjust, how malicious. 

Cold. Frigid. Ruthless. Heavy.

You're heaving on my chest

You're heaving on my chest

YOU’RE HEAVING ON MY FUCKING CHEST.

I’m cutting diamonds with the back of my teeth, a finger in a dike, a swollen wound, a broken deluge, Till it all comes crashing down on me. Hold me back lest I’m unleashed.

The city eats me, she swallows me whole, I’m taken by the voracious greed of this hellhole. I swell to a brim, deep in the stomach-pit of New York City.

I pass a giant chainsaw through the middle of the street, it flies by like a skyscraper on wheels, a kraken parting the seas. Tendons snap and cartilage cracks, skins they tear, and breaking backs. Bodies flail and split down the middle, they fall apart like wind to thistle, through SoHo, Battery Park and Bleecker Street. The East Village, Times Square and Wall Street, the epicenters of culture and the world economy-  I’ll make them all bleed. The man in the corner of the street, stark naked and raving mad, the void of his voice grieves all the things he once had, I’ll ease his pain, bring him a salve.  

Life is so hard. Why shackle ourselves? Put an end to this here madness. 

I'll walk down stairwell houses and elevator shafts, all the while the teeth of my blade slashes that which crosses my path in half. The false charm of cornice stone and the crooked acanthus of Corinthian columns- I’ll paint them red from looming black. The pinheads of skyscrapers, and the steeples of churches all topple on their backs. Heathens, liars, and thieves- the lot of them, I see it, I see it all and then, I’ll chop, slice, and maim them- the whole lot of them, put an end to these here vermin. Vindictive bastards and wall street cats, cut them up and trim the fat, mangled guts stringing down streets, lining up pavements, streaming over trees. KILL THEM, KILL THEM ALL, THE LOT OF THEM. I’ll kill them all, not one left back. Slicing, dicing and slashing their meats, I lay siege upon the cancer of humanity, upon these lecherous lice and sorry leftovers of what could’ve beens and never will bes. The mortars thunder and buildings splinter, the napalm seeps through their veins, how the poppies bleed. I watch their little lives all plead, novocaine dreams, narcotic schemes. There are funeral pyres burning in these streets. I’ll ride down the subway trenches, the torrent stains tiled wall-art and slaps against cold hard steel. The blood gushes down subway tracks, drowning, drowning subway rats, I’ll split open subway cars full of apex predators and wall street cats. The massacre follows suit, toppling, turning- how the bodies reel. I’ll put an end to these subterranean blues. 

And how they all bleed. carmine tides wash over, the cobblestones sprout poppyfields,  the spines of the spine-less bend backwards to a Pythagorean degree, I summon upon thee a crimson baptism- purified, free.

There’s nothing left anymore. Nihilo sanctum estne? Nothing but a giant cosmic joke. Ain’t that the cosmic way? All the contusions, concussions, fractures, broken backs and pulverizations. This is no warzone, nay, this is the compassion of tortured animals euthanized. I’ll leave behind plague pits, mass graves- a catacomb lined with drain pipes. 

The city becomes me, with this haemorrhaging stomach-pit of New York City. 

I undo the clotting of these lives, tumors, cancers metastasized. I grant you this gift, hell or heaven follow, freedom garnered still,

I do you this mercy. with this Bloodletting of the arteries of New York City.

………………………………………………………… Footnote: Streamofconsciousness Originally completed 11042021. Deleted due to negative vibes. Reposting for Transparency

[sillywolffoxwrites]

22nd of Nightal, 1368 - Day 154, Hour 20

Traveling through the wild we found a hostile pack of wolves. we were so focused on their unusual behavior, taking on our group, at such risk to themselves. Jaheira interceded and the wolves ran around us, apparently only upset we interrupted their path of flight. From treeline emerged a large, black panther, with a pair of tentacles emerging from it's back. "The closer we get to Caelar's headquarters, the more and more I wonder what in Helm's name this woman is up to!" Ferrum eyed the great cat, and advanced slowly, shield first, Hammer raised. "Jaheira, would you mind translating?" The druid stepped forward, and began to speak with the panther. "He says, he is curious..." "He is curious that- NO!" Mid translation Jaheira drew her scimitars and lunged. blades pierced the creature but no blood sprang forth. Seemingly out of thin air a new pair of tentacles appeared behind Jaheira, ramming their spiked ends onto her metal gloves. They deformed the metal, clung and ripped them right off her hands, her scimitars flinging in opposite directions. To her credit, Jaheira adapted, responding faster than any of us. She changed shape at incredible speed. I knew hypothetically many druids could turn into a wild shape - but I have never seen Jaheira do it. She exploded into the form of a bear, and charged the floating pair of tentacles. She crashed into an invisible point in the air, the illusory panther scrunching it's face in pain. Using her bulk to hold it in place, Jaheira bit hard into it's neck and locked her jaws in place, holding our foe for us. Aurelia acted the next quickest, strangling a roar with arrows. They hung into the air next to Jaheira's face. Her ursine mouth shone with blood, and it ran over the invisible creature, pooling on the floor. Weirdly, Jaheira's inner mouth was still visible, granting a rare view into a bear bite from the inside. More blood squirted from Aurelia's arrows, and the panther came into view again with a rasp and gurgle. The copy winked out of existence and the original slumped lifelessly, its green eyes still glowing in a death stare.

We took a half hour to clean ourselves up and tend minor injuries Jaheira sustained. "It felt wrong from the beginning -- that thing." Jaheira sat with M'Khiin by our fire, and the goblin put a final salve on a scrape the panther gifted to the half elf. "You know what it told me Shaman? That she was curious to see if our insides looked as pretty as our outsides. She meant to kill us. She was, intelligent enough to sound spiteful even. I heard hatred in her voice." "I don't think that cat is of our plane. Something about it is almost... fey." "Yes! I sense that too, I feel the pull of the Feywild from them but... it feels bent out of shape, hammered into an edge." I joined their circle "Neither of you have heard of this creature before?" "No, and it sounds like you haven't either. It worries me that our smart-man doesn't know." "Your what?" "You always know something about the things we run into. Like the Mushroom people." "Myconids." "See!" M'Khiin massaged her temples as she spoke. "So if you don't know what this thing is - my bet is there's powerful magic involved. Caelar may have more up her sleeve than we know. I don't like the bombs, friends." Jaheira looked down at the mention of them "I don't like them, but they might be necessary." - Yuze

[soulofgenocide]

Demonic Trespassing

Genocide's head shot up from his desk, the Soul in his human form letting out a groan as his nice nap was interrupted by a scent entering his domain. He groaned in annoyance and wiped away a bit of drool, pressing his fingers to his temple as he could already feel the headache coming. It was always the same tale, always the same bullshit no matter how many warnings were sent, posted, or screamed into their ears there was always Demons trying to kill or tame Genocide to climb in power. The Soul kicked open the asylum's doors to see a small group of lesser demons, lead by what he assumed was either some noble or decently ranked military general that was almost double his size, but all that got him was a yawn.

"You are violating the Blood Infernus pact and are being warned to leave the area immediately, any actions other than your immediate retreat will be taken as a hostile act."

One of the lesser demons approached Genocide and the Soul let out a sigh, already seeing the cocky smirk on their face and sensing this was going to become a laundry day.

"Show some respect! You are in the presence-"

Genocide placed his head on top of the little demon's head gently to make him quiet down, and with a small smile the Soul rammed his fist through their throat and severed the head by purely blunt impact. He watched the headless corpse fall over and then raised the head to his lips, taking a violent, loud, and disgusting chomp out of the flesh on it before tossing it back to his friends.

"According to the Blood Infernus pact, if hostile actions are performed by demonic beings within the territory of any Soul, that Soul is free to eliminate anything deemed a nuisance. You are all, a nuisance, I was fucking sleeping."

The lesser demons began to move, full of fear but willing to do anything to climb the ranks they charged at Genocide, however it would've been more effective to search for and throw rocks at him. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven little Demons were torn in two and tossed across the yard as decoration as the Soul yawned again and stood before the only remaining, the higher 'noble'.

"Why both sides choose to annoy me when I've said I'll leave both be if they do the same for me is beyond me, is the education that shit in Hell?"

"There will be consequences if you harm me."

As the noble spoke Genocide mimicked them with his right hand, a blank and tired look staring up into their eyes as it then turned to a middle finger.

"Wage war over some dipshit that ignored all warnings and tried to violate a peace pact? Yeah. Surely that's what they'll do."

When the noble went to speak again Genocide knocked their left leg out from under them, sending them toppling backwards with him jumping onto their chest immediately after. Once again their mouth went to move except this time Genocide grabbed their jaw, snapped it free and used their own bottom teeth to ram through their throat. A mess of torn flesh and quiet gurgles was all that was left as he climbed back off, taking a piece of torn cheek for a snack. Removing it from his mouth for a moment he blew a kiss towards the sky, before snickering and going back into the asylum to nap again.

[nijjhar]

Ultimate Gospel Truth that University Professors dead in Letters drunk w.. Ultimate Gospel Truth that the University Professors dead in Letters drunk with Old Wine have NO idea. That is why they call the living Gnostic heretics. https://youtu.be/9MIy1L9DHFI Hi Brethren, This Dark Age is of the Light of Christ within your own heart in which you treat others as you wish to be treated. So, you are either of the Fold of Christ Jesus, the Church of God headed by One Shepherd Christ Jesus, our Anointed Royal High Priest, our Bridegroom where equality and Justice prevail or you belong to the Fold of Satan in which Mammon and Media that leads to hypocrisy prevail as it did at the times of Jesus and the satanic Temple Priests killed an innocent man Christ Jesus for no fault. The same thing happens in abortions and the killers get away from the law but not from God. Today, Satanic activities are displayed in the USA, Europe, etc., the homes of Mammon and the Media by destroying the Middle East so that the Tares, the Jews outwardly and not of the heart could be safe from the hostile countries created by them by circumcising the Gentiles who were not of the Semitic race. This malpractice was exposed by Angel Stephen to their Synhedrion and they were grinding their teeth to kill him which they did. So, these Jews outwardly corrupted Genesis Chapter 17 on circumcision, the tribal mark of Abraham to Isaac and his generation only. So, these fake circumcised sons of Abraham in Iran, Pakistan, etc. will kill them today and you cannot blame a third person. Further, as the USA is creating hell in other countries, they will reap the fruit of their own deeds in their own country through civil war. In God, you treat others as you wish to be treated applies. I have produced over 8300 Youtube Videos explaining the Parables of the New Testament and the other Holy Books, the dead letters without the holy spirit, common sense, that shatters the fetters of the letters, and the Holy Books. Further, as Christianity is of the heart where the holy spirit, "common sense" rests that has no colour or gender, you cannot sin against God, our Supernatural Father as sins, are the transgressions against the moral laws that are applied to our natural physical body that the Rabbis sitting in the seat of Moses used to rule. Jesus died to get rid of these Rabbis and their Law or letters - Luke 16v16; Law and Prophets were till Angel John, the Last Prophet Elijah (my god is Yahweh, the creator of Nature at large called Brahma and Khuda). Thus, sins are exposed through the letters of the law and hypocrisy of heart through The Gospel that was delivered by the Two anointed Christs; First Christ Jesus and the Second and the greatest of all Christ = Satguru Nanak Dev Ji who appeared in 1469 and delivered The Gospel to Perfection through Five more Lights for 150 years still the Darkness couldn't be comprehended. Then, our Father Supernatural Father God appeared in the name of Royal King = Sache Patshah Gobind Rai Ji, Par Shiv to establish the last two communities of religion; Third Khalsa Panth of philanthropic Warriors called Khalsas and the Fourth of the Apostles = Nirmalle Sants. By the way, the First community called Samaj, Panth, Millat, etc. was Jew, Hindu, etc. of Moses/Ram Chander and the Second community was of Christ Jesus and His Second coming Satguru Nanak Dev Ji. Thus, your natural physical body is purified or you live in heaven and enjoy peace when you obey the moral laws of Moses/Ram Chander Ji. Peter had his body purified or cleansed for obeying the Moral Laws of Moses and that is why Jesus told him that you are already clean that you speak the truth and his feet needed washing to welcome him into the "inner chamber" of the Bridegroom Christ Jesus or Bosom. That is why Jesus took his outer garment off before washing the feet of his Labourers, which the proud and arrogant Pharisee Simon didn’t but Mary Magdalen did out of her extreme love for Christ Jesus to put to shame the egoistic rich Pharisee Simon. And Jesus came to cleanse our hearts of hypocrisy with The Gospel. The thief Judas Iscariot who used to steal money from donations was a hypocrite and his heart is not clean, he was not taken to the inner chamber of Christ Jesus for the Wedding Ceremony, the Eucharist, in which you eat the Flesh of Jesus or listen to the Bridegroom to cleanse your heart and after understanding the Gospel through the Teeth of logical reasoning that Brews Logo, you Preach The Gospel from your own heart and not from the letters of the dead Bible, the Scrip, forbidden by Jesus to be carried on your Preaching Tours - carry no money, no two shoes, tunic, etc. Thus, cleansing of the physical natural body through the Moral Laws makes you an Angel as John, the Baptist and the outer circle 70 were and of the heart through The Gospel a Saint, the very Source of Light as stressed by the Samaritan Woman at well that when Christ comes, He will explain to us everything in - Full description on my website:- www.gnosticgospel.co.uk/UltimateGos.htm .

[phaeton-flier]

I think one of the issues in his work is that he puts in just a few too many clever ideas, each of which is individually interesting but which as a whole clash.

Your boss being a reconstructed vampire who you have deep instinctual fear of, who looks at screaming faces to get a holistic view of data, but who is necessary to the mission because his species makes him a genius works.

Your boss secretly being the ships computer, hiding behind a transhuman but still mortal captain, pretending to just be supplementary brainpower but actually telling your "captain" what to do, because command thinks you couldn't handle taking orders from a machine, works.

The two together do not make sense; "we don't think you can handle being given orders by a computer; so instead we sent a horrid monster you have to suppress instinctual fear of"? You're plugging him into a machine anyways, just send some other trusted transhuman whatever to pretend to be ultra smart.

Same with the "consciousness as evolutionary dead weight" stuff: great concept, mostly well-executed cosmic horror, but he can't help but mention that the scramblers have hyper-fast neurons and the vampires have extra-connected connectomes and such; all of which seem orthogonal to having or not having consciousness. Ends up feeling like doing Windows vs Linux where one computer has 4 times the RAM.

Vampires are intelligent enough to cooperate even without directly meeting or communicating but they can't grok tenses in language;

Rorscharch is unconscious so it doesn't have an understanding or art or entertainment or whatever, but why should that lead to it assuming signals it decodes and doesn't understand are specifically an active weapon (rather than a passive defense ala thorns on a bush) and from there why would it decide to attack an already hostile enemy instead of just fucking off to easier-gotten resources? Etc

It's a great book and there's a lot of depth and the ending is wonderfully bleak and nuanced but it's just a few too many things packed together.

Hot Take: I think deconstructing Lovecraft is the easy mode of deconstructing cosmic horror, because it's just so obvious what his deep biases are and easy to knock him down.

If someone wanted to deconstruct Thomas Ligotti or Peter Watts, now there would be a feat, given how much more difficult it is to find the "weak points" in their views of cosmic dread...

[filesbeorganized]

Bheem, trying to convince Ram to join the group: You know... I thought it'd be good to have someone come along who's really... strong!

Jangu: And loud!

Peddana: And grumpy!

Lacchu: And oblivious to reality!

Ram:

[you-can-always-come-home]

isn't it interesting how the trio instantly hate warren. they're willing to give literally all the other teachers' lessons a chance (except yellow guy in dreams, but that was different. his friends were gone and he was alone and scared) but not warren. the clock whisking them away on a journey right before their show starts is fine. the computer interrupting their board game is fine. lillie and todney and their weirdness are fine. but fine seconds into warren's song and red guy's muttering "i HATE this guy" to duck.

sure, it's partially just meant to ram in the fact that warren's weird and unlikable, but it's interesting that the only thing that can get them to instantly distrust a teacher is when that teacher barges in on them and challenges their friendship. i've always wondered about the theory that whatever red guy said to yellow guy after he forgot the password, the censored stuff, was actually lighthearted and warren censored it to make it seem terrible so he'd have an excuse to interrupt them, but it kind of makes sense- red guy and duck seem confused at warren's assertion that they're "bad friends" and seem to dismiss him out of hand without even listening to his song the whole way through. it'd also give more meaning to "hey, c'mon, we don't hate you, that's just the worm in your brain" at the end- warren (the worm) really was the one who made yellow guy think his friends hated him. it was a matter of miscommunication. the trio are instantly hostile towards warren because he did something they weren't okay with under any circumstances- question their friendship.

[twodragonsflying]

Star Wars Characters at Disney World

Clone Wars Era Friends

Anakin and Padmé bring their kids to Disney world on a family vacation. Padmé is the type of mom that has their days planned out perfectly and Anakin just goes along with it. He does almost get into a few fights with people who cut in line but Padmé is able to calm him down.

Assuming this is a situation where the characters were plucked out of their own alternate reality and put into an alternate reality of ours, They have to keep him as far away from the Star Wars parts as possible or else he would pick fights with Kylo Ren and Darth Vader. Because him and his family turn to the Darkside? That’s crazy why would these people accuse him of that? (No that doesn’t make sense, but it’s funny.)

Luke and Leia probably argue on where they want to go and what they want to do. Luke is more interested in meeting characters where is Leia is more interested in riding rides but Padmé works it out for the both of them.

Anakin and Padmé definitely wear those matching bride and groom Mickey and Minnie ears at some point cause that’s adorable and of course they would.

Of course, I have not yet mentioned that Ahsoka, Rex, Cody, and Obi-Wan joined them on this trip. For the most part they’re in their own little group because big groups tend to make things more complicated. Sometimes they hand the kids off to each other.

Ahsoka wants to ride the biggest rides there are and Rex goes with her even though there are different things he’d like to do. It’s more about spending time with family to him.

Obi-Wan would have a lot of fun at the epcot wine and food festival. Makes sense, considering he’s had to deal with Anakin for half his life. Cody is just there to supervise him and everyone else.

Anakin and Ahsoka do join up one day to be absolute nightmares together. They don’t get kicked out of the park, but that’s not to say they didn’t come close.

BobaVader

(Set in an alternate universe from the first one lol)

Vader and Boba go together to get away. Darth Vader of course is unable to wear anything other than his suit. So through Disney World you see this big cyborg with a breathing problem wearing Ahsoka themed Minnie Mouse ears holding hands with a fairly normal, but also weirdly familiar looking guy. They are of course accompanied by two stormtroopers.

Vader just wants to ride the dumbos and the haunted mansion. Boba Fett wants to ride space mountain until he passes out. They work it out.

Vader also really really enjoys talking to the princesses. They’re just so nice and non-judgmental. Like he knows that’s their job, but it’s a breath of fresh air.

They have a good time, Boba has the foresight to keep a Vader as far away from it’s a small world as possible

Thranto

(this one could be set in either of the above universe is and it’s funny either way.)

Thrawn is the most annoying person at Disney World. He walks through the entire park, goes through every single one of the cues for every single one of the rides and character meet and greets and shows. And the entire time he’s there just looks at tiny details and evaluates the art. He also has very in-depth lectures or discussions that keep the cast members, both character actors and otherwise, very confused. There comes a point where Eli is genuinely starting to worry that Thrawn is preparing a preemptive strike against Disney.

“Oh don’t worry Eli I’m simply interested in all of the little details that go into making this “the most magical place on Earth” as they say.”

“Normally when you care about small details like that it means that you’re going to declare war against them.”

“Nonsense, why would I declare war against Disney World?”

“WHY WOULD YOU BE HAPPY WHEN SMALL WORLD BREAKS DOWN WITH YOU ON IT?!?!”

Oh yeah, about that. When they were on it’s a small world it broke down. And Thrawn enjoyed that like a crazy person. Eli was trying very hard to ram his head into Thrawn’s shoulder the entire time.

But for the most part it was pretty fun. Thrawn had the best time at galaxy’s edge. After all, he had been to black spire outpost before and the detail that they put into the park made it look exactly like the real thing. It was just like being back there without the hostility. And he tried to have a deep and intellectual conversation with Kylo Ren but quickly realized that that wasn’t going to work out. (Actually truth be told I’m pretty sure he freaked out the cast member because he figured out personal details about him that he shouldn’t have been able to figure out)

Depending on the universe, either Anakin or Vader is there at the same time. If it’s a Anakin, they stop and talk for a while and grab lunch together. If it’s Vader they pretend they do not see.

DinLuke and Family

(Set in an entirely different universe.)

Luke has Disney bounds and bucket hats galore. The entire family does actually because he got them all matching bucket hats. Han pouts about that. Ben looses his.

Grogu is very spoiled. He has his little ears sticking out the sides of the hat. He gets snacks all over the parks. And just imagine with me for a second him in a stroller. And if he’s not in the stroller he’s chasing the ducks around. The Princesses adore him so much, who wouldn’t. They are essentially that little picture perfect family going to Disney World.

And then there’s Han, Chewie, Leia, and Ben. Leia is also very organized but Han and Chewie sneak away from her several times, sometimes they bring the kid, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they bring the kid and then pass him off to Din and Luke. When that happens, Luke calls Leia immediately to make sure she knows where her child is.

Leia, when not stressed out about her unruly child and Ben, has diplomatic conversations with the princesses.

Ben has fun no matter who he’s with. He loves the Pirates of the Caribbean and Jungle cruise. He was very upset to find out that he was too short to ride Space Mountain. But he was able to ride mission space and soarin’, those are fun. When he and Grogu are together they terrorize all those who come in contact with them.