#samrambling

[tunababyyyy]

btw slimeriana are like a binary star system made to always orbit each other, born of the same cold dust, destined to destroy each other in a beautiful explosion of matter and energy and light. if you even care.

[samcat71470558]

Sick day

A short story about Dwight getting sick, based on this post by @the-great-old-grump (sorry if u didn't wanna be tagged) :3 (there's also my headcanons and those are here :33)

1275 words under the cut, enjoy <3

Echo snapped awake, flaps wiggling nervously. He didn't know what shook him out of his sleep, but he feels his pistons pumping harder than normal. Everything seems quiet, the sounds of Dwight's breath and engine rumbling through Echo's little hangar/quarters. He sighs softly, listening to the steady beat of Dwight's pistons. It's a sound he grew quite fond of over the few weeks he was stuck in his room, after... what happened... He squeezes his eyes shut, forcing down the mental image of Delta's drowning face. C'mon, Echo... Focus... count his pistons... One... two... three...

As Echo started counting the beats of Dwight's engines, he slowly calmed down from the panic threatening to overtake him. And that's when he noticed it. Dwight's breaths getting lower, harsher. His pistons pump a little harder than normal. Maybe there's rough sea? He'd have to ask tomorrow...

⫷▣⫸

The next morning, Dwight woke up with a loud yawn and a splash of water flooding over the deck. He always did that to help him wake up, but he hadn't expected his crew to scream and run. "Dwight! What on Earth are you doing?!"

His captain, a forklift called August, snapped him out of his confusion.

"You shoulda' been awake for an hour! There's no place for lazy asses in the Navy, damnit, and you know that! Now, get on with it! We've gotta get two in the air stat!"

Dwight couldn't answer, instead sighing with a "aye, cap'n." before activating his catapults so the deck crew can start loading them up. His head feels weird, the sun stinging his eyes painfully. Despite that, he keeps a stoic expression plastered on his features, and moves on with the day.

⫷▣⫸

By the time his crew's asleep, Dwight's head feels like it's filled with angry choppers. A throbbing pain that doesn't go away, whatever he does. He can't sleep either, because his hull feels cold. Or hot? He doesn't know, it fluctuates between them constantly. He sighs softly, engine rumbling a little faster than normal despite going the same speed as usual.

"...'S nothin'..."

He mutters softly, before closing his eyes to rest a little.

⫷▣⫸

He wakes up in a cold sweat, his entire body aching. What the hell is ging on... He shudders, squeezing his eyes shut for a second after making sure no one's on the deck yet. It hurts...

He stays awake until the crew comes out, doing his tasks a little slower than normal. Talking hurts, his voice a little hoarser than normal, but hey, who cares. He probably swallowed a bit too much sea water in his sleep again. Up until he has to call the ball for the jets, he's doing fine. Sure, he coughed a few times, but it's probably just a little wave going into his mouth again.

It's only when a few crewmembers enter the tower that they realise something's wrong. It's hot in there, like his heating's completely through the roof. And his instruments and readings show problems with his engines and tanks, and basically every single part of him. Dwight swallows softly, but doesn't admit anything when they ask him about it. After all, he doesn't feel that bad, right?

...Right..?

Wrong.

That night, when his crew is all asleep, Dwight wakes up with a painful jab in his head. It feels like he's getting shot all over, his eyes bleary and unfocussed as he tries to see what's attacking him. He can't see anything...

"Alarm! E-everyone to their posts, w-we're under attack!"

His voice cracks weirdly, and he lets out a choked noise. There's a ring in his ears, drowning out the sounds of potential gunshots. Why isn't anyone here to protect him? He's blinded, for Pete's sake!

"...M-mayday..!"

He coughs, gritting his teeth. he looks around, activating his canons and shooting a few rounds into the air. He hits nothing, obviously, and the pain only gets worse.

"August!"

⫷▣⫸

Everyone's worried. Stoic, no-nonsense Dwight is shivering with a thick grimace plastered over his features, eyes squeezed shut. Some brave volunteers went down on ropes to stuff a few painkillers into his mouth, but they don't seem to help. Dwight's miserable, teeth clattering as a little club of forklifts checks his engines on damage. They find nothing, and neither do the ones inspecting his electrical systems.

They all woke up from Dwight's pleas for help, rushing out at the sound of his canons going off. He didn't sound scared, more... desperate for help. He'd been shaky, certain something was shooting at his hull. There were no dents, no scratches, nothing, but he insisted he was hit. That was the first red flag. The night that followed was the second.

The highest ranking officers had taken turns to keep Dwight company, feeling him tremble with fever under their wheels as they talked to him. The entire fleet swarmed around him, the smaller boats pressed against his hull to keep him warm. He was delirious, not crying but he sounded pretty close to it. When the sun came up he whimpered. He whimpered from the pain as the light hit his sensitive eyes, and his crew got more worried. That's the moment August realised his ship was sick.

Now, Bravo and Echo are getting ready to use the catapult, the loud blasts of their engines drawing a shuddering breath from Dwight's mouth. The pain in his head is getting worse, the high tone in the jets' engines striking him right where it's worst. His tanks churn, and he shudders.

Bravo's shot off, flying off the deck with a loud "WOOHOO!". Dwight squeezes his eyes shut, tanks lurching. Is that nausea? Is he gonna throw up? Can he even throw up? What'll ha-

"...H-hh... hu-uhg... ughu-URK-"

A wave of oil splashes into the waves, and Dwight's eyes snap open. His breathing's raspy, engines hammering in his ears. A second wave comes out, leaving him panting. Echo immediately gets off the catapult, shutting off his engines and rolling back.

"...That's... not good."

Bravo lands again, skidding to a stop next to Echo. Deck crew come rushing out, a few choppers quickly swooping down to stop the oil from spreading too much. The noise is enough to draw a laboured whimper from Dwight's trembling lips, warning lights flickering in his cabin right before he passes out from exhaustion and pain.

⫷▣⫸

Dwight opens his eyes with a soft groan, the pain finally subsiding a little. He shudders a little, then focusses on the soft pats against the side of his head. It's August, smiling softly.

"...There you are... You know the Jolly Wrenches motto, right, Dwight?"

Dwight lets out a soft noise, throat still raw.

"...Yeah... V-volo pro- p-pro veritas, I f-fly for truth..."

August nods, stopping his soft pats. It's quiet for a bit, the only sounds the jets quietly chatting with each other on Dwight's deck. Finally the forklift speaks again.

"...You shouldn't lie about illness, Dwight. We're both grown men here, you should know hiding injuries is a major violation in the Navy."

Dwight's eyelids droop, glancing away.

"...Yes, sir... I know, sir..."

August sighs, and starts patting again.

"...Stupid idiot..."

The last part didn't reach the carrier's ears, as he'd already fallen asleep again.

⫷▣⫸

This time when he woke up, he felt better. His body didn't ache, his engines ran normally, and his head didn't throb when he opened his eyes fully while in the sun.

"Hm-hmm... Much better."

He threw a wave water over his deck, and started activating his systems. The jets smiled up at him as they got up to the deck, the other crew cheering softly.

And Dwight? He held a small, stoic smile, ready to start working another day.

[satorusgummies]

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10 "𝐌𝐀𝐏𝐒 by 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡𝐬"

divider by @/cafekitsune

I think I like the way you look at me, the way you can so easily make me smile. I can only wish that I can do the same for you one day; make you smile when you need it most – through voice calls and meet-ups, through stupid jokes and pictures. You so effortlessly make my day, with the way a notification from you never fails to make me perk up, and that talking with you feels so easy and simple. We don’t always have to talk to feel comfortable, moments of silence feel like little pockets of safety, where I can just exist as myself with your presence to keep the noise quiet in my mind.

I think I like the way you so easily get along with everyone around you. I remember the way you came into my life, you shocked me from behind with a little yell, and we remained friends for two years now – maybe more. You just managed to get along with almost everyone you were with, and nothing made me happier than seeing you get along with my best friends, and seeing them like you too.

I think I like the way we can be vulnerable, the way we can talk about anything and the way that your secrets are mine, as mine are yours.

But this one secret will be mine to bear, at least until you’re ready to hear it – because I think I like you, and I wish that you could like me too.

[wanderingcas]

blogkeeping <3

welcome to my blog! I'm glad you're here:)

currently writing: the common hours [destiel] and what's past is prologue [dreamling]

also banging my head against the wall with my original novel (more details at @hantisenovel)

send me an ask with a prompt, general writing questions, or just come to chat! but whatever you do don't ask me about linguistics, writing processes, music history/theory, or my baby or i won't shut up about ANY of those topics

common tags if you want to blacklist any: #thesandman, #supernatural, #not fandom (any posts not fandom related), and #samrambles (my personal posts)

[idiotacadamia]

Guys welcome to how stupid I am

[tricky-pockets]

To any autistic people reading my blog: I care about you. I don’t want to make you easier for the world to ‘deal with’; I want to make the world easier for you to live in. My partner is on the spectrum, and these are some of the habits I’ve developed from being close to him:

Skipping the small talk is always okay; you are welcome to throw an infodump at me. I love to listen. I will never be weirded out by your level of interest in something. In my house, this is called Obsession Of The Week and my partner and I both do it (I have ADHD with a lot of hyperfocus).

I will not be offended by the timing of messages. You can drop out in the middle of a conversation any time. You can be afk for 2 weeks and then pick up where you left off (as long as I can do the same - I have severe anxiety and sometimes I have to just stop talking).

Questions are always okay. I am happy to hash out details until we understand each other. I will ask precise questions if I don’t understand, because I don’t like to make assumptions about what you meant. 

If you want to establish protocol, I’ll stick to it. I’m good at being consistent. Some of the rules in my house are: “Give me context when you want to have a conversation about feelings, so that I know what you want from me,” and “If I say ‘epistemological safe word’, that means I can’t tell if you’re being serious. When you hear that phrase, stop and tell me if you’re joking or not.”

Consent is everything. I will ask before I vent. I will tag whatever you need me to tag. I am not entitled to any level or kind of interaction with you. I will respect boundaries. I will change my vocabulary if needed. I am in the habit of asking “Can I hug you?” before even typing *hug*.

I don’t expect that all of these will be useful to everyone. What makes life easier for me and my partner might not apply to you. I just want you to know that I am willing and able to adapt if it makes your life easier. And I would like to make some new friends.

[xialing-gf]

i just realized that most of the people on tumblr share one thing in common with me: becoming emotionally attached to fictional characters due to the lack of stable, meaningful relationships to us in real life

[sanctimonious-sobriquet]

i’m going to subject my players to a joke

so if you remember THUNDERBONES...

here’s the plan

players are part of a cult that worships thunderbones as a being of ultimate power (just roll with me on this one). thunderbones will be described as a harsh and mystical character. the players will probably expect to fight him.

a cult leader will send the players on a mission with three objectives so that the cult can perform an occult ritual

1. retrieve a locked chest (described as a “box” to the players before they see it so that they think it’ll be small and easier to transport) with certain needed supplies

2. abduct a certain man of important political standing

3. clear out a warehouse for the cult to use

the party will do these things because of course they will

the man is a baker. the box is full of party supplies. the ritual is a surprise birthday party for thunderbones. the end.

[the-ace-of-the-moon]

this got derailed oops

im really sorry i havent refilled the queue lately and that i havent been posting much but i sorta have good news and bad news. Both are mostly related to me personally but obviously they have been (a/e)ffecting the blog so i will be sharing but to start off, i will be continuing this blog and its here to stay. If you want my whole rant/ breakdown its below the break but long story short good news i got a job bad news im having some life problems that are making my mental problems flare up like my anxiety and trichotillomania so i will do my best but i probably will only have scattered posting for a while sorry.

The good news is that i fimally got a job so i wont just be lazing about anymore and so far ive been enjoying it there! I dont know what i get paid but tomorrow is the last day of my 2 weeks of training, which is great because i actually got proper training and also i get to see how i do on my own after this!

The bad news is i have a lot of things that have been getting set aside even before i got the job and some of it is kinda approaching deadlines and while im trying to forcus on the new job, the job is taking a forefront priority as a commitment thats blocking everything else out. I have to return a couple audio books, start and finish a painting that im just blocked on, set up a day to talk to a councillor so i can apply to a new college, apply for college, and balance my social life with my down time. The new jobs sorta eclipsing everything so im trying to think of how i can even do college while having a job and my mom keeps pressuring me about college and in the meantime my friends keep trying to schedule things and i dont know how to react so my brain keeps just kinda fritzing and then rerouting to a different task so i end up ignoring them which is bad but i dont know how to explain to this one friend that shes kinda pushy and ive been really nice about it but its not realistic to expect someone to drive for hours on end not only frequently but also at insane hours of the night and not even out of town. Like just cruising the streets from 9 pm to 3 am. And enjoy it. And not get paid for gas or anything. Just tonight she said "oh yeah and [name redacted of friend who usually tags along] is leaving in a couple weekends (this person goes to college out of state so we dont get to see them) so we are gonna need to go on a drive soon" I dont want to? But if the friend thats leaving wants to go its 2 against 1 and honestly both those 2 have been having some drama of each saying the other interacts with their significant other too much and they keep talking to me about it and its exhausting? Like i get that both of their significant others live far away and in different time zones and have jobs but neither of my friends have jobs or can drive and i have to listen to their shit waiting for something to blow up and worry about how im gonna take care of my problems and its not like i can drop these 2 bc i keep burning bridges due to lack of social motivation so i only have 4 people i actually consistently initate contact with but 2 of those people are far away and have actual lives so i try not to bother them and the other 2 are these messes and really its the one that causes the most problems but all of this has been stressing me out which makes me anxious and kinda depressed and unmotivated to do anything and its all made my trich worse but ive been doing my best to control it but now today there was too much going on bc i had my axiety at the forefront, my problems on my mind, i had an exhausting family event to go to earlier, and then this shit gets shoved back into view and since im home alone i finally dug out the tweezers ive been trying to hide from myself and now half of the inner lashes on my top left lid are gone and i look fuckin wierd and im too keyed up to sleep and im ignoring my friend and i want to pluck more but ill just go for the left eye again bc it looks wierd and ill end up with no lashes and my coworker who's training me will ask and itll be awkward and my mom will see and be mad bc she thought the trich was just a phase when i was in elelmentry and why didnt i tell her about it still going on ant ittl be a whole thing which will make it worse and now im fucking crying. Or not bc apparently ive suppressed my emotions too much and too often that im fine now ok that was wierd any way sum up lifes good but simultaneously shitty so now my lashes and skin (didnt mention but i typically have really good skin unless im stressed real bad so now my face is starting to break out and get dry and irritated) are fucked up and i wont be posting as often until i can find the motivation to fill up the queue agan. Sorry you had to read this mess and apparent roller coaster of emotions (with an anticlimactic end) but hey now you know more than you ever would have about the admin of this blog other than that shes an aro(flux)ace witch

[blureverie]

Got that darn little devil stuck in my head. Curse you beautiful musically creative ‘Tubers for making catchy songs about an inky little demon thing. That swing is addicting. Can’t wait for Chapter 3.

[tunababyyyy]

also i think we as trans people need to start being a problem again. call yourself a faggot transvestite and crossdress whichever way you want in public. embrace the inherent glorious punk nature of a sex change. be a horrible freak full of love. i'm so sick of being palatable

[samcat71470558]

K, but consider this.

Goose Echo had a friend. Like, a brother friend. That died in an accident. Delta. Like. When Goose died in Top Gun but it's Mav instead.

969 words <3

tw/death, drowning (not really descriptive), grief(..? Kinda..?)

I swear these guys are such blanc slates according to the wiki yk I had to give 'em some trauma 😔/j

-------

Echo hated the empty feeling in his tanks when he was alone. Bravo was out, doing god knows what, Delta (Mav) has other things on his head, and he's stuck on board the ship. His engines ached for a little action. Suddenly a bang sounds through the hall, followed by a scream. Delta!

"...Delta?!"

Echo's engines flared up with fear. Delta never, never screams like that, unless he's in real trouble.

"Delta!"

He rolls forwards, cautious for any debris or gas or whatever could cause his best friend to scream. Glass cracks under his lading gear. "...N-no..." His movements get more frantic, every corner he passes feeling like a clump of ice drops in his tanks. It's quiet...

He rounds another corner, and...

"BOO!" Delta jumps out, wings folded with his wingflaps up. He's grinning like an idiot, his red-blue helmet shining in the dim light. "HAH! Oh man, Echo... You should've seen the look on your fa-ha-haace... Wooooh..." He snickers, putting his wings and flaps back down when he sees the annoyance in Echo's face. "Sorry, sorry... I just... y'know, I had to. But you gotta admit, that was good, huh?" Echo groans, angrily swatting Delta with his wing. "...Bastard... I thought you were in real trouble."

He sighs, and gives Delta the Disappointed Dad™ stare. Not that he's his dad, he just likes doing it.

"I'll be on deck if you need me, scrubbing window-washer fluid out of my eyes."

Delta just snickers, and starts cleaning again.

«»

"Okay, so lemme get this straight. You two figures are going to do what?!" Bravo never heard so much bullshit in one sentence. First, Echo and Delta were gonna do the most dangerous stunt he'd ever heard of. And they were gonna do it in opposite directions, at the same time. This could only end in chaos.

Echo snorts, flapping his flaps up.

"Come on, you gotta stop being so ice cold to these ideas, man! Come on, join in! Delta knows what he's doin'."

Delta, who's standing a little away, does in fact not know what he's doing. "Come on Echo! Let him sulk, we're gonna have some real fun!"

And Echo believed him.

«»

It went so well, and then...

"DELTA!" Jet wash, the most dangerous thing in aviation. When Echo and Delta passed each other at the top of their loops, Delta flew straight through Echo's. His engines splutter, his eyes wide as he loses altitude. "ECHO!" He tries everything to get out, to just climb, gain altitude, gain his engines back... There's tears dripping down the sides of his face (not from fear, but from the fact that he's plummeting to the ground at mach 11045 or something), teeth gritted in concentration. Bravo tries snatching him out of the sky, but in the process he almost takes himself down too. At the last moment he has to disengage, letting Delta splash into the icy ocean below. For a second they see his terrified face below the surface, before he sinks into the deep, dark blue. And Echo can't stop the soft whine his engine makes.

«»

The funeral is short, but even that's too much for Echo. He blames himself. It was his jet wash, after all. That must make him guilty, right?

He got send to the mainland for a few days, getting a court reading where they explain neatly how this wasn't his fault, since a jet wash is invisible, and he didn't intent to down Delta, and blah, blah... Echo'd stopped listening after they said he wasn't guilty.

But still, he felt incredibly, incredibly guilty.

"...I should've gone down, not him..."

He barely left his room for a week after coming back to the carrier, his head hurting from the many sleepless nights he'd spent in his quarters.

"...It's just... not fair, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know, buddy."

Only Bravo could coax him out of his room sometimes, getting him some fuel and talking for a bit. But he knew it too; the old Echo was gone. Replaced with a shivering wreck of a plane that was almost too scared to even fly...

Until that faithful day when he did. Bravo finally managed to convince Echo to go out flying with him, promising to not even go near his rear to avoid the jet wash. It was stupid, but anything to get his best friend back was worth a shot.

They loaded onto the catapults, and took off. The second Echo got airborne he sunk down, landing gear out as if trying to land on the water. His eyes lock onto the ocean, seeing the face of Delta sinking down slowly into the blue...

"...B-Bravo..? I... I'm gonna go back..." Bravo whirled around, spotting his friend slowly moving back to the carrier. "No. Echo..." He quickly caught up, giving Echo his recreation of the other jet's famous Disappointed Dad™. "Come on, one lap. You agreed to one lap around the perimeter. It's just 83 kilometres..." Echo sighed, regret and desire swirling in his tanks until he got nauseous. He did agree to one lap...

He sighed, then pulled up. "Fine. One lap."

«»

Once Echo got up to speed, the doubt slowly started to melt away like snow in the sun. Hell, he even found a smile tugging his mouth as he sped up more and more, overtaking Bravo at Mach 1. In less than four minutes he'd cleared the lap, engines roaring for the second. "Keep up, slow coach!" Bravo growled, engines flaring up as he caught up to Echo again. "There he is! There's my stupid idiot Echo!"

«»

After the race, the ice clump in Echo's tanks melted slightly. He still felt chilly and alone, but knowing Bravo had his tail fins really made everything a lot better for him.

[satorusgummies]

i know i said im a reader insert blog but tbh, im so tempted to return to my roots and write canon x oc

[sonereveluv]

makakabalik na rin ako sa wakas sa aking mahal na desk mamaya XD yung tipong meron dapat dyang poster ng FT sa likod ng laptop, pero natabunan na ng periodic table at notes mo sa chem 16 -___- review review din pag may time dba? XD

[tunababyyyy]

i think too many people assume gillion's upbringing was lavish. he says that he lived in/near the palace, but at one point he refers to his clothing as what "servants" of the elders would wear (i think in one of the episodes in edison city when they are disguising for the heist maybe?). I think gillion was intentionally raised utilitarian and humbly so that the elders could better break his spirit and make him follow orders similarly to how the military does in real life. by making him wear servant's clothes and train alone, they effectively strip him of his identity. keeping him away from his family is another strategy used by real-life militaries and cults to groom members into only taking orders. i have a hard time believing someone with an inferiority complex level like gillion would have been given any preferential treatment or luxuries.

[tunababyyyy]

love that british people say they're "called" their name instead of "named." "i'm called" versus "my name is" or "i am." it implies none of them ever give you their true name. or that the name is separate from the person.