#v| The Unformed

[chevvy-ryder]

[NC_RES]-13062047-EUR-BU-NED de_wit_m_portraits_017_1_BL_WP.file ///core:_thyjs_de_wit.file\\\

—

⚠️ READ: Please do not repost/reupload any of my art here or to any other platform, or I will be forced to do anything to get it annihilated.

I know self-praise is no recommendation, but — can I just do it a little? These pics up there of Thyjs in his Militech gear turned out so god verdomme good. Like I just want to take him out of the screenshot and place him carefully into Battlefield V and just beat the hell out of it with him is my only thought.

I went back to where I first shot him when I created him: tunnel entrance in the badlands. Idk I love this place.

I put a heavy colorgrading onto it because somehow I've wanted more brown-greenish rather than all green. Guess I'm still very much inspired by WWI and WII movies rather than current/future war looks.

Also this is the first time his nails actually really glow in the dark on these pics — it is no white nailpolish. they glow because of the electricity feed in his left cyberarm (you can't see because long sleeve, meh). It's a hell of a difference if you take pics inside or outside (and Thyjs rarely got outside yet in my not-day-time pics during shots).

Also couldn't resist to take detail shots because I frrigin' envy Thyjs having all these pouches on him. I want to open them all and see what he has stashed in there. I know it's mostly probably ammo but still (I'm really nerdy about military gear in rl).

Wanted him to be equipped with more but he needs to be agile as a assault soldier on the front with sandevistan. Maybe this is already too much but he went on a mission far way, so more stuff needed on himself to carry with.

[prvtocol]

these panels reminding that the human Resistance is made up of engineers and scientists, not fighters. secops personnel didn't stay behind with sully, and the majority of new defectors are from non-secops sectors. only thing stopping them from shoving a gun into bri's hands is trust.

& alma's greeting, so'lek's thoughts (bri getting that response from na'vi; a product of a machine = good phrasing for it).

likewise, still have thoughts of bri meeting/befriending alma. both complicated and formerly complicit ladies aaaah. idk, they might understand each other and the rda's trauma.

[jzlily333]

🌺02/02 LiveWell活出美好🌺

If we embrace the world with our hearts, no matter how big our hearts are, they will only be limited by the world and cannot surpass it. If we embrace God with our hearts, no matter how small our hearts are, they will expand infinitely with the infinite God. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be (Psalm 139:16).

02/02 Bible Verses 

And he showed me a river of water of life, bright as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb in the middle of its street. (Revelation 22:1) 

02/02 Good Words

1. True rest is not the reduction of work or the reduction of responsibility. God wants us to come to Him with all our burdens, and He will give us rest.

2. People who are easy to believe are more likely to succeed than those who are not easy to believe. Belief is the starting point of success, and persistence is the end point of success.

Hymn: Love Can Make Us Brave (Fountain of Praise) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6TcDvwW1HM

🌺02/02活出美好🌺

我們若用心去擁抱世界，我們的心再大，也只會受限於世界而無法超越它。我們若用心去擁抱 神，我們的心再小，也會隨著無限的神而有無限地擴展。   我未成形的體質，你的眼早已看見了；你所定的日子，我尚未度一日，你都寫在你的冊上了 (詩篇139: 16)。

02/02圣经金句And he showed me a river of water of life, bright as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb in the middle of its street. (Revelation 22: 1)   天使又指給我看在城內街道當中一道生命水的河，明亮如水晶，從神和羔羊的寶座流出來 (啟示錄22: 1)。 

02/02金玉良言

1. 真實的安息，不是工作的減少，也不是責任的減輕。神乃是要我們帶著所有的重擔，來到祂的面前，祂必使我們得安息。

2. 容易相信的人比不容易相信的人易成功。相信是成功的起點，堅持是成功的終點。

詩歌：愛使我們勇敢 Love Can Make Us Brave (讚美之泉) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6TcDvwW1HM

[morgan-va]

Chapter 26: The Price of Memory (Serial Designation V x Reader)

Masterlist

You power on, a soft whirring in your systems signaling the return of consciousness. But something feels off. You’re not on the bus anymore. The faint hum of the vehicle and the chatter of Worker Drones are replaced with the muffled stillness of your living room.

The couch beneath you is familiar—worn, comfortable, and smelling faintly of oil. But what immediately catches your attention is the weight on your chest. A hand.

Your optics flicker open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. V is there, seated with her legs beneath your head, her hand resting lightly against your chest. Her head is bowed slightly, and the telltale glow of her yellow optics is absent—she's powered off. For a moment, you can only stare, your processors working overtime to piece together the scene.

She must have carried you inside. You glance around the room, nothing seems out of place, though you can't help but wonder why she left you on the couch instead of your bed. The thought nags at you briefly before something else takes its place: the inexplicable comfort of her presence.

Her touch is light but steady, almost grounding. With the chaos of the day—your systems overwhelmed, the weight of Copper-9’s frigid atmosphere, and the strange, lingering feeling of being utterly alone—her hand feels like an anchor. A reminder that someone is here. Someone who, despite her usual sharp-edged demeanor, must have taken the time to look after you.

You try not to dwell too much on how that thought makes you feel.

Shifting slightly, you catch a faint creak from the couch springs. V doesn't stir, remaining motionless, almost serene. It's a rare sight, seeing her this... vulnerable? Calm? Whatever it is, it's a side of her you're not used to.

It's almost surreal—this same drone who can tear through hordes of Workers without a second thought now sits beside you, quiet, peaceful, and oddly gentle.

You reach up hesitantly, your hand hovering near hers. For a moment, you think about moving it, pulling her hand away, breaking the connection—but you don’t. Instead, you let your hand rest there, overlapping hers. The gesture feels strange and unfamiliar, but right now, with the storm in your mind refusing to settle, it’s enough.

“Thanks, V,” you whisper, not expecting a response and not needing one. The words are more for you than for her, a soft acknowledgment of the strange, unexpected comfort she brings.

As you shift slightly, V’s hand moves before you can react, gripping the fabric of your shirt with surprising firmness. It’s not a harsh or aggressive gesture, but it’s enough to keep you in place, pinning you to the couch with a silent insistence.

Your gaze darts back to her face, but there’s no change. Her optics remain dark, her expression still serene, her body otherwise unmoving. She’s powered off, yet her grip says otherwise. Reflexive, maybe? Or some deep-seated instinct to hold on?

You let out a soft, almost amused sigh, settling back against the couch. "You really don’t want me going anywhere, huh?" you murmur, the quiet words barely audible over the stillness of the room.

Her hand doesn’t let up, clutching your shirt with a surprising amount of determination for someone who isn’t even awake. It’s oddly endearing, though, in its own way. For all her sharp edges and fearsome reputation, there’s something unexpectedly... protective about the gesture.

You can’t help but wonder why. Was it concern? Some lingering sense of duty? Or maybe, just maybe, something else entirely? The thought flickers in your mind, unformed and unresolved, before you push it aside.

Whatever her reasoning, you can’t deny the effect it has on you. Her presence, her touch—it grounds you in a way you didn’t realize you needed. It’s not just the physical weight of her hand or the warmth of her proximity. It’s the unspoken reassurance that, at least for now, you’re not alone.

With a quiet sigh, you relax against the cushions, letting your systems cool down and your thoughts drift. V’s grip on your shirt remains steady, unyielding, as if anchoring you to this moment.

You’re not sure how much time passes as you lay there, gazing at V. The seconds stretch into minutes—or maybe longer—but you don’t mind. For once, your thoughts don’t stray to the chaos and horrors of the previous day. No memories of destroyed mansions, drones being torn apart, or the multitude of other unsettling encounters tug at your attention. Instead, there’s only the quiet stillness of the moment, the sound of your systems humming softly in the background, and the sight of V’s peaceful face.

You study her features, taking in the way her silver hair frames her face, how the faint curve of her lips seems almost... gentle in her powered-down state. It’s strange, seeing her like this—vulnerable, almost serene. For someone who’s so sharp-edged and volatile when awake, this feels like an entirely different person.

A soft whir breaks the silence, pulling you from your thoughts. Her optics flicker to life, twin rings of yellow light meeting your gaze. For a moment, the world feels like it stills again. Her expression, as her systems boot back up, is unexpectedly soft—free of her usual smirk or edge. The two of you lock eyes, neither speaking, just holding the moment between you. There’s no need for words, no snark, no teasing, no questions. Just the quiet understanding of two drones sharing a rare, unspoken connection.

But the moment doesn’t last.

Slowly, ever so slowly, a familiar smirk starts to curl at the corners of her lips. You feel a pang of realization, knowing exactly where this is headed. Before you can think of anything to say, she leans in closer, the sharp glint of her jagged teeth catching the dim light as her smirk widens.

“Well, well,” she purrs, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “What a good little drone, staying put just like I left you.”

You can’t stop the flicker of heat that rises in your systems, a mix of embarrassment and… something else as her teasing sinks in. She chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction, her fingers still clutching your shirt as she leans back slightly, her smirk firmly in place.

“Maybe I should leave you like that more often,” she adds with a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re a lot cuter when you’re behaving.”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to roll your optics at her, though you can’t help but feel a small smile tug at the corner of your own lips. Even if she’s a pain to deal with, there’s something comforting in her teasing—something that makes the weight of the past day feel a little lighter.

You make another attempt to sit up, but V’s hand presses down with enough force to keep you firmly in place. 

“Not so fast,” she says, her voice carrying that teasing lilt you’ve come to expect. Her eyes narrow slightly, though there’s a glimmer of mischief in them. “You’re not allowed to move until I’m confident you’re properly healed after yesterday’s little adventure.”

Your systems stall for a moment at her words, dread creeping in as you remember exactly what she considers “healing.” 

“I-I feel fine!” you blurt out a little too quickly, your voice almost cracking from the urgency. You glance at her, hoping the sincerity in your tone will convince her. “Seriously, V, no need for... you know. Everything’s good. Fully operational. Not a single glitch.”

Her eyes widen slightly in surprise at your outburst before she bursts into laughter, the sound sharp and unrestrained. It’s not often you see her laugh like that—fully letting herself enjoy the moment—and you’re torn between being embarrassed and feeling oddly relieved that you avoided what would’ve been a very awkward situation.

“Relax,” she finally says, releasing your shirt with a slight shove that nearly sends you toppling back into the couch. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. But if you even look like you’re about to glitch out, I’m going full medical drone on you, and I think we both know I’m not qualified for that.”

She grins wide, baring her jagged teeth in a way that’s somehow both playful and menacing. You can’t help but let out a nervous chuckle, brushing yourself off as you finally sit up.

“Noted,” you mutter, rubbing the back of your head. Despite her antics, there’s a strange warmth in the way she’s watching you, as if she’s genuinely concerned—even if she’d never admit it outright.

“Well,” she says, leaning back and stretching her arms over her head, “if you’re so sure you’re fine, then I guess you’re free to move. For now.”

You roll your eyess but can’t help the small smile that creeps onto your face. V’s a handful, but somehow, moments like this make everything feel just a little more manageable.

You stand up, your servos humming softly as you stretch, working out the stiffness that had settled in while lying on the couch. Straightening up, you glance back at V. She’s still lounging there, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, her sharp grin as present as ever. But there’s something about the moment that feels different, less charged with her usual teasing energy.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitate for just a second before speaking. “Hey… thanks for, uh, looking after me. Back there, and… here.”

Her optics flicker with something unreadable for the briefest moment, but then her grin grows wider. “Oh, that?” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “It was nothing. You were out like a light on the bus—made my job way easier.”

Her tone is light, playful as always, but something about the way she says job makes you pause. You tilt your head slightly, considering her.

“Your job, huh?” you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity. “And what exactly is your job, V?”

For a split second, her expression falters. It’s just a flicker, but it’s enough to catch your attention—a shadow of something thoughtful or perhaps hesitant crossing her features. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by her usual confident smirk.

“It’s making sure you don’t get yourself killed, obviously,” she says, her tone dripping with exaggerated nonchalance. “And judging by yesterday, that’s a full-time gig.”

You narrow your eyess at her, a mix of amusement and suspicion bubbling up. She meets your gaze with her usual bravado, but that brief moment of pensive quiet lingers in the back of your mind. Whatever she’s really thinking, she’s not ready to share it—not yet.

“Right,” you say, letting out a short laugh. “Guess I’ll have to work harder at staying alive, so you can take it easy for once.”

“Please do,” she shoots back with mock exasperation, though her grin doesn’t fade. “I’ve got better things to do than babysit you all day.”

Despite her words, the way her optics stay on you—sharp and focused—tells a different story. Whatever her reasons, she’s clearly decided that keeping you alive is more than just a job, and you have the sneaking suspicion that she does not have better things to do.

Before you can respond, V suddenly stands, the motion so quick it’s almost startling. Before you know it, she’s jabbing a finger into your chest with surprising force. The next thing you feel is your balance tipping backward, your systems scrambling to catch up as you fall.

But before you can hit the ground, her grip is on your shirt, yanking you back up with ease. You’re left dangling for a moment, her smirk impossibly wide as she holds you steady like a misbehaving toy.

“See?” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Despite your best attempts to make sure I fail, I’m still managing to keep you alive.”

Her eyes glint with mischief as she leans in close, and before you can react, she blows a sharp puff of air right into your face. Your systems sputter for a moment, a mix of surprise and indignation flickering through you as you recoil slightly.

She chuckles, finally letting go of your shirt, leaving you to straighten yourself out. Without another word, she saunters off toward the kitchen, her movements as confident and casual as ever. You watch as she rummages through a cabinet, pulling out a mug before filling it with oil.

She takes a long sip, her gaze flicking back to you over the rim of the mug, clearly amused. “What?” she asks, her voice smooth and teasing. “Gotta refuel after all that heavy lifting.”

You shake your head, trying not to let her antics get to you. Somehow, being around V feels like trying to keep up with a whirlwind—but at least it’s never boring.

Your gaze drifts away from V as she sips from her mug, your optics settling blankly on the wall. For a moment, you’re somewhere else entirely, your thoughts spiraling into the vivid, suffocating memories of the previous day.

The images are too sharp, too visceral to be dreams—scenes that don’t belong to you but feel inescapably yours. A human life. A world unfamiliar yet achingly vivid. It makes no sense. The fragments twist and churn in your mind, a maddening puzzle with no edges to grasp.

And then you see it again: Uzi’s face, her mouth slick with oil, her expression feral and terrifying. The image sears itself into your consciousness, and your breath hitches sharply, your systems flooding with panic.

The room begins to shift, the walls closing in as though they’re collapsing around you. Your chest tightens, your heart hammering in your frame as your vision blurs. Everything spins, and you clutch at your chest, desperate to ground yourself, but the pressure only intensifies, crushing you from all sides.

You’re drowning in it—until you feel something. Warm, firm hands holding your face, pulling you back.

“Hey! Hey!” V’s voice cuts through the chaos, though her words don’t register at first. You blink rapidly, your optics struggling to focus as she shakes you gently but insistently. Her yellow eyes are locked onto yours, wide with shockingly genuine concern.

Her voice rises, sharp and pleading. “Come on! Say something, dammit!”

Her words finally pierce through the fog, and your breathing, erratic and ragged, begins to slow just enough for you to choke out a sound. You’re not even sure what you say—if you say anything at all—but the look on her face shifts slightly, her grip on your cheeks loosening just a fraction.

“There you are,” she mutters, her voice quieter now, the teasing edge gone entirely. “Don’t you dare do that to me again.”

You’re not sure if it’s her words or the way she’s holding you—steady and grounding—but the room starts to come back into focus. The suffocating weight begins to lift, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you can breathe.

You find yourself staring into V’s eyes, their usual sharpness dulled by a rare warmth. Her voice, typically teasing and brash, has softened into something quiet, tender, familiar... “You’re okay,” she murmurs, more to reassure herself than anything else. Her thumbs gently trace along your jawline, grounding you as the remnants of panic still linger in your systems.

Then, a memory surges forward, unbidden and vivid. V, sitting beside your bed, her metallic hand clasping yours as she spoke in the same gentle tone. The details are so clear, the way her head tilted as she watched over you, the quiet hum of her systems as she stayed close.

Your hands... warm, flesh-and-blood hands. The discrepancy jolts you, confusion rippling through your thoughts. That… that didn’t happen. Did it?

Your vision glitches, a sharp, distorted flicker that cuts through the memory like static. In the disorienting haze, a robotic voice echoes in your mind, cold and detached.

“Oops.”

And just like that, the memory is gone, slipping from your grasp like water through your fingers. You’re left staring into V’s face, her hands still steady against your cheeks, her expression painted with concern.

“I…” You scramble to ground yourself, your voice shaky as you quickly tell her, “I’m okay. Really, I’m fine now.”

Her optics narrow, her gaze scanning your face like she’s trying to decipher your every micro-expression. “Yeah?” she asks, her tone doubtful, the worry in her voice not quite masked by the sharp edge of sarcasm creeping back in. “Sure doesn’t look like it.”

“Really, I promise. I feel a lot better now. I swear.”

V tilts her head slightly, her optics narrowing in thought before something seems to click. Her lips curl into a smirk, the worry in her expression shifting back into her more familiar mischief. “Alright, I’m choosing to trust you,” she says, her tone laced with mock seriousness. “I’ve got something very important to take care of today while you’re working. You gonna be okay on your own?”

You scoff, feeling the lingering tension in your chest ease as her energy shifts. “I’ll almost certainly get more work done without you breaking half the stuff I’m fixing, so yeah, I think I’ll manage.”

Her smirk grows wider as she punches you lightly on the shoulder. “Rude. I’m a great assistant, thank you very much.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Sure, if ‘assistant’ means making my job harder.”

V rolls her eyes but doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she leans back slightly, her optics narrowing again as the teasing fades. “Seriously, though. You okay?”

You pause, the weight of her gaze keeping you from brushing off the question too quickly. Taking a deep breath, you nod. “Yeah. I’m okay. I… I appreciate you checking in. Really.”

Her grin softens, though her sharp edge remains intact. “Well, I have to care,” she quips, folding her arms. “You make my life way more interesting.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, shaking your head. “Glad to be your personal entertainment.”

“Damn right you are.” She shoots you one last smirk before turning on her heel and heading toward the door. “Don’t go falling apart while I’m gone, got it? I’ll be back later.”

With that, she steps out of the apartment and into the dimly lit hall of the bunker, leaving you alone with the faint hum of your systems and the quiet realization that, for all her teasing, V’s care for you is as genuine as it gets, but why?

You sigh, the sound lingering in the stillness of the apartment before you decide to get moving. V’s absence feels oddly noticeable, but you shake it off as you head out the door and make your way to the maintenance area.

Arriving in the familiar workshop, you grab your toolbelt from its usual spot, fastening it around your waist with practiced ease. The routine of it is comforting, a welcome distraction from the chaotic whirlwind of recent events.

You check the maintenance requests for the day, scrolling through the short list on the terminal. Nothing major: the lunchroom needs some lightbulbs replaced, and there’s a water leak in one of the storage rooms. Simple, straightforward tasks.

"Finally," you mutter to yourself, feeling a sense of relief at the mundane nature of the jobs. After everything that’s happened, a normal day of maintenance sounds like exactly what you need.

Adjusting the belt and grabbing a small toolkit, you head out toward the lunchroom, ready to get to work.

The bunker’s halls are quiet except for the occasional hum of passing drones as you make your way to the lunchroom. You offer a casual wave or nod to those you recognize, exchanging brief greetings.

Then, Lizzy strolls by, her usual confidence radiating off her every movement. Feeling a bit more social than usual, you decide to try your luck.

“Hey, Lizzy,” you say, your tone friendly.

She slows her pace just enough to turn her head, fix you with a deadpan stare, and let out an exaggerated “Ughhh,” rolling her eyes as she walks past without another word.

You blink, momentarily stunned, before realizing: Hey, she acknowledged your existence! That’s… progress? Maybe? Either way, you’ll take it.

Shaking your head with a faint chuckle, you continue on to the lunchroom. It’s as you expected—dimly lit, with the culprit being a set of burnt-out bulbs overhead. Grabbing a ladder from the adjacent storage closet, you set it up beneath the fixtures and get to work.

Replacing the bulbs is a straightforward task, and the familiarity of it is oddly grounding. Each bulb clicks into place with ease, and as you finish the first fixture, the room instantly feels brighter—literally and figuratively.

You shift the ladder to the next fixture, climbing up with your toolkit in hand. Reaching for the burnt-out bulb, you carefully unscrew it, but your grip falters just as you pull it free. The bulb slips from your fingers, tumbling to the ground below.

The sharp smash of glass against the floor rings through the room, and everything shifts.

The sound transports you back to the horrors of the previous day. The image of Uzi’s claws tearing into those two drones flashes vividly in your mind. You see their optics shattering as she grips their heads, her movements primal and merciless. The memory feels too real, too close, and your chest tightens as panic begins to set in.

Your balance wavers, and for a moment, you feel like you might fall from the ladder. The world tilts, and you clutch the sides of the ladder, steadying yourself just in time.

You grip the metal frame tightly, trying to shake the memory loose from your mind. Your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps as you remind yourself over and over: It’s over. It’s done. I’m safe now.

But no matter how much you tell yourself that, the weight of the memory clings to you, making it harder to focus as you force yourself to keep going.

You work quickly, eager to finish the task and get off the ladder. Each movement feels heavier than it should, your hands shaking slightly as you screw in the last bulb. The brighter lighting above feels almost glaring, but you welcome the sense of closure it brings.

Climbing down the ladder, you set your tools aside and move to a nearby lunch table, collapsing onto the bench with a sigh. You lean forward, resting your elbows on the table and your head in your hands, trying to push away the lingering images that won’t leave your mind.

The room is quiet now, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the space. You take a deep breath, focusing on the rhythm of your own systems and the cool metal of the table beneath your hands. It takes a moment, but the weight on your chest begins to lighten, your thoughts slowly grounding themselves in the present.

You remind yourself why you’re here, why you’re doing this. The small tasks, the routine—it’s what keeps you moving forward. And for now, that’s enough.

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you stand, brushing off the residual tension as best as you can. You grab the ladder, folding it up and hauling it back to the closet. Sliding it into its designated spot, you pick up your toolkit again and head out into the hall.

The walk to the storage closet is uneventful, the faint hum of the bunker’s systems and the occasional passing drone your only company. When you reach the closet, you push the door open and flip on the light.

The culprit is immediately apparent: the water heater tucked into the corner has a steady drip leaking from one of its valves. A puddle has already formed beneath it, glistening in the harsh overhead light.

You kneel down, inspecting the valve and the surrounding area. The leak seems manageable—no signs of a larger rupture or any catastrophic damage. Just a faulty valve that needs replacing. A straightforward fix, which is a relief after the day’s earlier tension.

With a sigh, you roll up your sleeves and set to work, grateful for another simple task to keep your mind occupied.

You focus intently on the task, methodically turning off the water inlet valve before retrieving a small saw from your toolbox. The valve is in worse shape than you expected, rust having eaten through it entirely. With slow, deliberate movements, you begin cutting it off, the metallic screech of the saw against the pipe echoing in the room.

Finally, the valve comes loose, but as you pull it free, your finger inadvertently presses into the brittle, rusted pipe. The material gives way with a loud, sickening crunch, and suddenly, the sound becomes something else entirely.

Your mind is assaulted by the image of Uzi ripping a drone’s head from its body, the same wet, visceral crunch replaying vividly in your memory. You gasp, your chest tightening, and you stumble backward, leaning against the wall. The room spins around you, your breaths coming in shallow, panicked bursts as you clutch your chest, desperate to regain control.

A voice cuts through the haze, muffled at first, as if coming from a great distance. “Tech? Tech?? Are you okay?”

The voice grows clearer, grounding you just enough to force your eyes open. And then you see her.

Uzi stands beside you, her purple eyes wide and filled with worry. For a moment, you freeze, your mind struggling to reconcile the concern in her expression with the nightmare you just relived.

Your body moves on instinct, letting out a startled yelp before you quickly try to cover it up, forcing out a nervous laugh. “Oh! Uh, Uzi! You scared me there, showing up out of nowhere.” You try to keep your tone light, though your voice shakes slightly.

Her worried look doesn’t waver as she tilts her head, scrutinizing you. "Scared you? You looked like you were about to keel over."

You wave a hand dismissively, still trying to steady your breathing. “I’m fine, really. Just… caught me off guard, is all. I was a little too distracted and just… didn’t notice you.” You force a grin, hoping she doesn’t pry any further, though her skeptical gaze makes it clear she isn’t entirely convinced.

You glance at her, still trying to shake off the lingering panic as you force a nervous smile. “So, uh… what brings you here, Uzi?” you ask, hoping to steer the conversation away from your shaky state.

Her demeanor falters as she looks down, her expression uncharacteristically subdued. She hesitates for a moment, shuffling her feet awkwardly before speaking.

“I, uh…” She scratches the back of her head, avoiding your gaze. “I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

Her words catch you off guard, and you blink at her, unsure how to respond.

She takes a deep breath, her voice quieter than usual. “I know I—ugh, this is so stupid—I know I put you through… stuff. Bad stuff.” She glances up at you briefly before looking away again, her expression tinged with guilt. “You’re my friend. Or, at least, I think we’re friends? Whatever. Point is, I actually, like, care about you, okay? And yesterday was…”

She trails off, crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders, her tone shifting to something more defensive as she continues. “...pretty awful. I put you in a terrible spot, and I know I made things worse for you. I don’t—I don’t know what your deal is, but it’s obvious you’ve got enough to deal with already without me piling on more… trauma or whatever.”

Her gaze flickers back to yours, her voice softening again. “I know how much it sucks to shove all that stuff down and pretend it’s not there. So, yeah. I’m sorry. For, you know… all of it.”

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of her words settling in the air. You can tell she’s being sincere, even if her delivery is still very much Uzi.

You stare at her for a long moment, the weight of her words and the raw honesty in her voice settling over you. Slowly, you exhale the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, letting the tension seep out of your shoulders.

“I… appreciate that, Uzi. Really,” you say, your voice steady but quiet. “And I accept your apology.”

She glances at you, her expression flickering with a mix of relief and lingering guilt.

“But,” you continue, holding up a hand to stall her reaction, “I’m not gonna lie—what happened yesterday? That’s gonna take some time to… purge from my memory. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you just bounce back from, y’know?”

Uzi flinches, but she nods, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“Still,” you say, softening your tone, “as long as you can promise me two things, I think we’ll be okay.”

Her optics lift to meet yours. “Two things? What things?”

You hold up a finger. “First, stay honest with me. No secrets, no dodging questions when I ask them. We’re friends, I need to know I can trust you.”

She hesitates but nods again, her voice small. “Okay. I can do that.”

You raise a second finger. “Second—and this is the big one—please don’t, y’know, murder me in a horrible and violent manner.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Uzi’s lips twitch upward into a crooked smile, her usual sarcastic edge creeping back into her voice. “Pfft. Can’t make any promises about not being violent, but I’ll, uh… do my best to keep you alive. For now.”

You roll your eyes but manage a chuckle, some of the tension between you finally easing. “Good enough, I guess.”

Her smirk fades slightly, and she gives you a hesitant nod. “Thanks. For, y’know… not hating me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you reply with a small smile. “You make life interesting, if nothing else.”

She snorts, muttering something about you being “so sappy it’s disgusting,” but the look in her eyes tells you she appreciates it.

You glance at Uzi, who seems to be waiting for something, her arms crossed and an expectant look on her face. Then an idea strikes you.

“So,” you say, tilting your head, “since you’ve got those new abilities or… whatever, think you could put that tail of yours to good use? Like, I don’t know, cleaning up your disaster of a room?”

Her optics narrow, and you can practically see the gears in her head grinding.

“Bite me!” she snaps, spinning around with her usual dramatic flair as she exits the room.

You can’t help but grin. “Classic Uzi,” you mutter under your breath, watching her retreat.

As the door hisses shut behind her, you let out a soft sigh. It’s comforting to know that despite everything, she’s still her moody, chaotic self. Even if yesterday revealed a side of her you’re not sure you’ll ever fully understand—or forget.

But then, the images resurface: claws raking through metal, the lifeless optics of the drones she tore apart, and the sound of their screams echoing in your head. Your chest tightens again, and you press a hand against the wall for support, willing the memories to fade.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to breathe deeply. She’s trying, you remind yourself. She apologized. She cares.

And as much as the fear still lingers, you can’t help but believe in her. Because no matter how messy or terrifying things get, Uzi is Uzi. And somehow, that feels like enough.

You take another steadying breath and turn back to the task at hand. The broken valve sits discarded on the floor, a rusty reminder of yet another problem to fix—one you can actually solve. Picking up the new valve from your toolbox, you carefully align it with the pipe, threading it into place.

As you tighten it down, the rhythmic motion helps ease your mind, the clinking of your tools grounding you in the present. Each turn of the wrench feels like progress, a small but tangible victory in a day that’s already felt overwhelming.

The rush of water running through the pipe as you turn the inlet valve brings a sense of finality. You double-check your work, ensuring everything is seated properly. Finally, you turn the power back on and watch as the water heater hums to life, no longer leaking.

“Good as new,” you murmur to yourself, wiping your hands on a rag. The sight of a job well done is satisfying, a momentary distraction from the chaos in your mind.

You pack up your tools, glancing around the storage room to ensure nothing’s been left behind. The silence here is almost comforting, a stark contrast to the loud buzz of your thoughts. With the leak fixed and the mess cleaned up, you head back into the hallway and relax as your workday is finished.

You set your toolbox down in the maintenance bay and breathe a sigh of relief. For once, the day didn’t feel like it was actively trying to kill you. With your tasks completed, you make your way back to your apartment, the faint hum of activity in the bunker halls fading into the background.

When you open the door, the sight that greets you stops you in your tracks. V is perched precariously on the kitchen counter, hunched over something in front of her. Her focus is so intense that she doesn’t even notice you at first.

“Uh… hey—”

The moment your voice breaks the silence, she yelps, her head snapping up. Her neon eyes widen in panic, and she scrambles to hide whatever she was working on. In her haste, she loses her balance and tumbles backward off the counter with a crash.

“V!” You drop your bag and rush toward her.

But before you can reach her, she springs back up, brushing herself off like nothing happened. “I’m fine!” she declares, her usual smirk plastered across her face. “Totally fine. Didn’t even feel it, like most things!”

You narrow your eyes. “You sure? That sounded pretty bad.”

She waves you off, stepping back to put some distance between you as she subtly shifts whatever she’s hiding behind her back. “Please, I’ve survived way worse. Anyway, welcome home, Techie! How was your day?” Her tone is too casual, her smile a little too wide.

You glance at her suspiciously. “V… what are you hiding?”

“Me? Hiding? Pfft, nothing!” she says, her voice pitching higher than usual. “Why would I be hiding anything? That’s ridiculous.”

You fold your arms and raise an eyebrow. “V.”

Her grin falters for a split second before she doubles down, leaning against the counter and trying to look nonchalant. “It’s… uh… a surprise! Yeah, that’s it! A surprise for you, obviously. Can’t ruin it by showing you now, can I?”

“Alright, fine,” you say, throwing your hands up in mock surrender. “But if you blow up the kitchen, you’re cleaning it this time.”

“Deal!” she chirps, her smirk back in full force. “Now, why don’t you sit down and relax? I’ll… totally not keep working on my definitely-not-suspicious project.” A small flag pops out of her arm, bearing the words “LITERALLY SO INSANELY NOT SUSPICIOUS”. You choose not to question why she has this.

You shake your head, deciding not to push your luck. Whatever she’s up to, you’ll probably find out soon enough—whether you want to or not.

You grab the book you’ve been meaning to finish reading, a dusty old thing titled The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. The concept of an “empire” is strange enough, but the idea that this one managed to rise and fall so dramatically intrigues you. Settling down on the couch in the living room, you flip to your bookmark and begin reading.

The calm is short-lived.

“Dang it,” V mutters from the kitchen.

You glance over the top of your book to see her bent over the counter again, clearly fussing with whatever it was she tried to hide earlier. A soft clink follows, and you hear her mutter something much less polite under her breath.

Without turning around, you call out, “Need some help?”

“Nope!” she replies, her voice tight. “I’m fine! Just… don’t look! You’ll ruin the surprise!”

Another louder clink echoes through the apartment, followed by an exasperated sigh.

“…Okay, fine, maybe I do need some help,” she admits, sounding both irritated and embarrassed.

You chuckle, closing your book and setting it aside. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Walking over, you catch sight of her fidgeting with a golden watch, its back panel lying beside it. You immediately recognize it as the one Lizzy had looted off the camper that V shot. You decide not to bring that up for now.

V straightens up as you approach, looking sheepish. “I wanted to make something for you,” she explains. “But, uh… turns out I’m not great with tiny stuff.”

You tilt your head. “You replaced the battery?”

She nods, picking up a tiny screwdriver with her claws. “Yeah, but this stupid back piece won’t go on right, and…” Her words trail off as she tries to line up the screwdriver, only for it to slip and clatter to the counter again.

You can’t help but laugh. “Why don’t you just use your fingers?”

She freezes, clearly not having considered that. “Shut up,” she grumbles, retracting her claws. Picking up the screwdriver again, she uses her fingers this time, but still struggles to balance the tiny screw in place.

“Here,” you offer, grabbing the screw and holding it steady. “Try now.”

With your help, V manages to align the screwdriver and twist the screw into place. She lets out a triumphant laugh once the back panel clicks into place.

“See? I totally could’ve done that myself,” she says, grinning.

“Sure you could,” you reply with a smirk.

V picks up the watch and pockets it with a matching grin. “Anyway, it’s still a surprise. You’ll get it when I feel like you’ve earned it.”

You laugh at her absurd logic, shaking your head. “Of course. How generous of you.”

Deciding not to press the matter, you return to the couch and pick up your book again. You’ve barely managed to read a single sentence, though, when the front door bursts open.

“Heyyyyyyy bestie!” Lizzy’s voice rings out as she barges into the apartment, her usual smugness practically radiating off her.

You freeze mid-page, staring as V immediately rushes to her, grabbing her by the arm and guiding her further inside like they’re old pals.

“You’ve got to tell me everything,” V says eagerly, practically dragging Lizzy into the kitchen. “What’s the deal with Thad and the elevator? Did he really get stuck in there with only a mop for company?”

“Oh my gosh, yes,” Lizzy replies, rolling her eyes dramatically as if recounting a great tragedy. “And it gets worse. He—”

You watch in baffled silence as the two of them settle into a corner of the kitchen, gossiping like this is just a normal occurrence.

“Uh… what’s going on here?” you finally manage to ask, pointing between the two of them.

V glances back at you, her grin widening. “Relax, Techie. Girl talk.”

Lizzy snickers. “Yeah, this doesn’t concern you.”

You blink, completely lost, before sighing and turning back to your book. This is fine. Completely normal. You can survive this.

.

.

You survived. Technically.

Though, as you sit on the floor with a defeated expression, makeup smeared on your optics and face, you’re beginning to wish you hadn’t.

Lizzy leans over with an almost predatory grin, carefully applying more mascara to your optics while V cackles behind her, still adding the finishing touches to your so-called “makeover.”

“You have great symmetry,” Lizzy muses with the tone of an artist evaluating a canvas. “You’d be stunning if you weren’t, like, a dweeb.”

V, fails to hold back another laugh as she touches up your lipstick.

You groan, shifting uncomfortably. “I did not sign up for this.”

“Oh, you totally did,” V says, smirking as she sits back to admire their handiwork. “The moment you decided to be friends with us, this was inevitable.”

Lizzy nods in agreement, brandishing a blush brush like a weapon. “Yeah. This is, like, a rite of passage. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Welcome for what?” you deadpan, wiping at the eyeliner they’ve smeared just a little too liberally.

“For making you fabulous, obviously.” Lizzy grins.

You sigh, slumping against the wall as the two of them return to chattering about “girl stuff.” Something about metallic nail polish trends and who stole Khan’s welding kit. It’s mind-numbing, and you’re not sure how much more you can endure.

At least they seem to be having fun. That counts for something, right?

Your fingers tremble as you swipe at the lip gloss, wiping it off your face with an annoyed grunt. When you look down, your hands are stained with a dark red sheen.

You blink.

It’s no longer lip gloss.

Your hands are slick with blood.

The living room around you is gone, replaced with a ruined mansion—a scene of utter devastation. Bodies and rubble lie scattered across the floor, the air thick with the metallic tang of death and destruction. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the chaos. The corpses, the shattered walls, the blood-soaked ground—it’s too real. Too vivid.

Your chest tightens, and you start to hyperventilate, the room spinning as you clutch at your head. You blink again.

And you’re back.

The warmth of the living room washes over you, but the pounding in your head doesn’t stop. You look down at your hands again, the red still there—just lip gloss now—but the image of blood won’t leave you.

“What the hell is wrong with this weirdo?” Lizzy’s voice cuts through your panic.

Before you can process what’s happening, V is already moving. “Out.”

“What?” Lizzy barely has time to react before V grabs her by the collar and literally tosses her out the front door.

The door slams shut behind her, and V is by your side in an instant, crouching down and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Hey. Hey, what’s going on?” Her voice is calm but urgent, her grip firm enough to ground you. “Breathe, Techie. Just breathe. You’re okay. You’re here.”

You can barely hear her over the pounding in your head, but you try. You focus on her voice, on the reassuring weight of her hand. Slowly, the panic begins to subside, though your hands still tremble as you lower them to your lap.

V’s eyes are filled with softness as she watches you. “You wanna talk about it, or do I need to kick someone else out to cheer you up?”

You slump forward, resting your head in your hands. Your voice is low and hollow when you finally speak. "What’s wrong with me, V? Why can’t I remember anything? Why am I being tortured like this?"

She freezes, her expression shifting as she processes your words. Her usual cocky demeanor melts away, replaced by a sadness so raw it’s almost unbearable to see. She kneels down fully, meeting your gaze, her own eyes flickering with something you can’t place.

"I..." She starts, but the words die on her lips. You can tell she’s searching for an answer, turning it over and over in her head, desperate to give you something, anything that might help. But nothing comes.

"I don’t know," she finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. It’s the first time she’s ever sounded so... helpless.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat refusing to go away.

“But," she continues, her tone steadying as she leans closer, gripping your shoulders tightly, "whatever this is, whatever’s happening to you—I’ll be there, okay? I’ll protect you. No matter what. I swear it."

Her words, though simple, carry a weight that almost makes you believe her. Almost.

You nod faintly, not trusting yourself to speak. Her grip softens slightly, but she doesn’t let go, staying there with you in the quiet, just holding on.

V shifts uncomfortably beside you, her claws idly tracing faint scratches into the floor. Her eyes remain locked on some distant point in the room, lost in thought. The silence stretches between you, heavy and unyielding.

Finally, you sigh, breaking it. "Why do you even care about me, V?" you ask, your voice tinged with frustration and genuine confusion. "You’re a Disassembly Drone. You were ready to kill me the first time we met. So why the sudden change of heart? And don’t give me that ‘you make my life interesting’ crap—I’m not buying it."

She flinches slightly at your words, her optics dimming as she turns her face away from you. Her claws stop their restless movements, coming to rest flat against the floor.

For a long moment, she doesn’t answer. The tension is palpable, her body rigid as if locked in some internal battle. She looks like she wants to speak, her mouth opens slightly, and her gaze flickers toward you, but no words come out.

You wait, your chest tight as her silence stretches on.

Then, just as her lips part again, the front door slides open with a sharp hiss.

The both of you snap your heads toward it, startled.

N strides in with his usual cheery energy. “Hey, guys!”

You groan under your breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Why does no one ever knock?”

N pauses mid-step, glancing between you and V, seemingly oblivious to the charged atmosphere.

N practically bounces on his heels, his ever-present grin radiating an oblivious excitement. “Great news, guys! Uzi found something—a new lead! She said it’s super important and we all need to go to her room so she can explain.”

V groans, pinching the bridge of her nose as she mutters, “That stupid emo better not get us killed.” Then, without missing a beat, she grabs you by the arm and hauls you to your feet with surprising ease.

You stumble slightly, shooting her an annoyed look, but she just shrugs it off, her usual smirk creeping back into place.

“Don’t think this conversation is over, V. I want an answer, I want to trust you.” You mutter, sounding a lot harsher than you intended. 

“Ouch, and here I thought saving your life several times was enough to convince you.” She says with faux-offense, although she still has a hint of melancholy behind her expression.

As the three of you head out of the apartment and into the dimly lit halls of the bunker, N hums a cheerful tune, completely at odds with the ever-present tension hanging in the air. You glance at V, who’s whispering under her breath about “idiotic plans” and “walking into death traps,” and then at N, who seems blissfully unaware of any potential danger.

Your thoughts begin to spiral. Whatever this “lead” is, you can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to take you down a path you might not come back from. A quiet sense of dread settles in your chest as you follow behind them.

Whatever happens next... it could very well go horribly wrong.

[voices-not-echoes]

v v unorganized thoughts but, as a warren hater, i was thinking about ways that they could have done season 6 of btvs that wasn’t the like “horror version of everyday life,” that could’ve maybe preserved the almost high-fantasy vibe of season 5 but twisted in order to account for the (very good) story season 6 tells about buffy’s depression and willow’s magic addiction.

the v unformed idea i had was that maybe the leftovers of season 5 just keep spilling over. like all the monsters of the week are worshippers of glory or weird things that were brought over when she opened the portal. and so buffy has to keep on being the action hero/fantasy hero that she was last season but it just feels completely hollow. and she’s trying to hunt down ben to make him stop it bc she’s looking for someone else to deal with it, and then towards the middle-end of the season they find some people trying to resurrect him and that’s how she finds out what giles did and that’s why he leaves. and like her emotional journey kind of goes from “the fight against evil will never end (defeated)” to “i will never stop fighting evil (resolute)” idk how willow or spuffy or anything else fits in but these were my thoughts

[twoparrotprojects]

Part 4/11

The Shadow Knight gang.

Gene.

Overall: Didn't change much again. Didn't tint his hair any colour, kept his eyes blue, but I did make his skin lighter than intended. I have two nickels now. Why do I keep doing this.

Casual: I kept everything mostly the same, just added a jacket, made his jeans darker, and ripped 'em. Everything else is the same, just in my style.

Uniform: Unform. gud. glad we got that out of the way.

Work: I made his flannel shirt a bit more vibrant, gave him a hot topic uniform shirt, and gave him a nametag (name card?). As for his jeans (heh. "genes"), I weathered them a bit to show how much he's worn them.

I may or may not give him a bigger role in the story outside of being an antagonist in pdh and a charity case in Lover's Lane.

Sasha.

Overall: Didn't change much outside of the obligatory colour changes.

Casual: We don't see much of Sasha's casual outfit in PDH, we only see it once when Gene and the Shadow Knight gang are introduced in episode 5. But from what we see of it, I've mostly kept it the same. It looks fine for what it is and what purpose it serves.

Uniform: Unform. v gud. glads we've got that outta way.

Bake Sale: Bake sale maid outfit. but violet.

Zenix.

Overall: Obligatory colour changes. gud? good.

Casual: Again, we don't see much of Zenix's casual outfit. We don't see much of Zenix period. But, again, from what we see of this outfit, it's stayed the same for the most part.. Outside of the obligatory colour changes.

Uniform: Do I have to say it again?

[nucarnivalmadness]

Hello~ It's been a while, how are you doing? I hope you're good ^^

Well, I only came here to say that, in the Nukani subreddit, they're speculating that this might be another event with a song 👀 Mostly because of the Chinese Characters in Eddie's unit name(?)

Winter themed (in comparison to the Summer Idol event), three characters, with all three V/As that can sing -and very good, for that matter! I haven't checked yet, but "Hypnotic Mic" may be a song or "unit" in which Garu's and Edmond's VA worked together.

I don't really know as to what extent keep my hopes up for another song-event but! I hope it is!! I'd love to hear Edmond, Garu/Karu and ESPECIALLY Quincy sing!!!

Also, couldn't help but notice that Edmond's unit has a straighter, non-slutty-back-breaking pose. Definetely looks very mature and composed, and one can only impatiently wait and imagine what the scenes could be like~♡ It totally shows Edmond's growth and personal development, imo. Y'know, with all his units posing either side profile, or 3/4 until now, getting one with a full front pose....... that body language, and the tweet about his willingness to confront and fully review and change (or "admit" ;) ) his views on essence, and more importantly, about the Grand Sorcerer............ :3c

but yeah, uh, sorry for the long ask (^-^)ゝ"

Hey! ❤ I'm doing well and editing the Dante/Edmond fic when I have time :'D

EDMOND SINGING 👀💦 THATD BE JUST TOO MUCH FOR ME OHGOD IM NOT SURE IF ITS REALLY GONNA HAPPEN BECAUSE WE DIDNT GET A TEASE ABOUT A SONG BUT ITS GOOD TO DREAM ( Quincy singing? thatd be out of this world. XD )

but honestly im already happy with Edmond, he looks so pretty in his winter unform asdfasdgadfgadfgadfh

also, yes probably he is on his way on his character development and im still saying he is terribly in love with Eiden and that changes him and it still hurts him because this love is just so intense for him 😌❤

so im looking forward on the intimacy rooms :D

[runawaymun]

🪩🎧✅🥀❌🎬💿🎤 any and all of these for whichever of your original fiction WIPs you want!

*h e a v y b r e a t h i n g*

okay I am not going to do Thol babe that would take way to long. Let's do We That Remain!

(disco ball emoji) Would you want a movie adaption, TV, or something else? Animated or live action?

I think it'd make a movie best tbh. Or maybe a limited series but that almost feels too long.

🎧—What would the soundtrack be like?

soundtrack playlist coming right up

✅—Which character/plot point/etc would be your favorite to see on screen?

ULTANA AND RORY ULTANA AND RORY

“Do...do you remember the first time we met?” he asked. It was daft, but it was the only thing he could think of. It was worth it to hear that broken laugh from her lips at the memory.  She looked back at him, blinking back the tears with a shaky smile. “You were using my favorite tree as target practice.” “It was my tree,” he pointed out, a grin whispering over his face. “—And you missed and shot a notch right through my poetry book,” she retorted. “Anyway, it can’t be your tree. It was on my land. I was there first.” She was trying very hard to sound mad at him. He knew she wasn’t, and couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “That book is my favorite now.” “Nick and all?”  She looked straight at him, a gaze that seemed to fill him up until he might burst.  “Especially with the nick.” 

just. them. their everything. The whole quiet blooming of the romance aAAAAAaaaAAAAaaaAAUGH I want to peel my skin off every time I think about them!!!!

🥀—Which character/plot point/etc is most important for an adaption to get right?

Hugh. 100% Hugh. If Hugh's wrong the whole thing is off. Like Hugh makes actually one of the most objectively rational, sensible, and reasonable decisions in the book. Is it the right decision? No, not really, but it's the smart decision and he was doing it out of a misguided attempt to save everyone -- and it might have worked if, you know, it wasn't Queen Elizabeth and Charles Blount that he was making that bargain with.

And he does care about Ultana in his own really messed up way. He doesn't love her, but there is a level of respect and care there that I got wrong in the early drafts that emerged in the most recent draft -- you know how it is--- and that's really integral to understanding the book and their interactions and arcs.

❌—What’s the worst thing an adaption of your WIP could do? Your absolute worst nightmare?

Erinea x Thomas

or Erinea x anyone, really.

OR, or or, like let Mountjoy actually finish what he set out to do in that scene where Ultana stabs him in the hand with her hair pin. I could see some studio wanting to let him succeed for The Drama(tm) and I'd burn the place to the ground before I let that happen tbh.

🎬—Who would you cast as your characters?

So, in a perfect world:

Ultana O'Neill - Alex Kingston Hugh O'Neill - Daniel Day Lewis Erinea O'Neill - Amybeth McNulty Rory O'Donnell - Liam Neeson Baron Mountjoy - Jason Isaacs

like unfortunately most of these actors are no longer the correct ages to be playing these characters as they would have been when I started writing the thing, but that's who I cast and by god that's who they look like/sound like in my brain now tbh.

🎤—Describe the opening scene

I unfortunately have A Thing for starting out stories hot with a battle scene. But I like this one because it has a very particular spooky vibe to it. I would want to set the stage to make sure we get some very clear visuals on the state of the Irish army at the time. They're not doing well. Unforms are ragged/old. Pretty much everybody's wounded. We're cold, wet, exhausted, etc. etc. And then we get the English standing army -- and these guys emerge from the fog and they're almost inhuman tbh.

And of course you've got Mountjoy up on a hill above it all like a spectre.

Shapes began to glide through the trees, forming a line, then a circle, a slow deathwalk around the huddled ragtag army. Horses. Men on them. They stood at the edge of the trees, faces locked behind their helmets, armor and lances catching the cold morning sun. A single rider on a white horse made his way to the crest of the southern hill. His face was set with confidence, and his clothes were deadly red.

That's a scene I have so firmly affixed in my brain -- that first standoff between Rory, Hugh, and Mountjoy -- there really isn't much I would change about the visuals tbh. Like if there was ONE frame that I would want to make sure gets in the opening sequence it's that one, because that's the thing: Mountjoy's up there presiding. He's at the point of upmost advantage and confidence. He has nothing to lose. The odds are stacked overwhelmingly in his favor in this battle and he never stoops to join it, vs Rory and Hugh who are right down there in the thick of the fray. Also something-something 'i saw a rider on a pale horse and his name was death' heavy-handed symbolism y'know.

💿—Free space for anything I didn’t mention! Talk about things you would add, things that are important to you, or even lay out the plot of every episode of your Netflix Original if it suits you!!

Ultimately there are always scenes that get cut from adaptations, but one I'll fight tooth and nail for is the foaling scene. I feel in my soul that it would be on the chopping block and no. That's the first glimpse we get of Ultana commanding a room in her element and using a bit of authority -- especially around Hugh. And Hugh lets her. The foaling scene is crucial to understanding their relationship and that's a hill I'm willing to die on.

[unfoldingmoments]

God is in Control

Do not despise ‘the day of small things’ (v.10). Don’t look at seemingly minor accomplishments as unimportant. Don’t despise apparently insignificant, humble, ‘small beginnings’. The kingdom of God starts with a mustard seed, which grows into a big tree. Small numbers make no difference to God. There is nothing small if God is in it. Everything big has to start small. Nothing you do for God goes unnoticed or unrewarded. You may not see the fruits but you are accomplishing God’s purposes. Don’t give up on your dream.

The Lord reigns. He is in charge of events and history. In his sovereign love, by his Spirit, from a day of small beginnings, the temple was rebuilt. Now you can trust him to keep building and rebuilding his church from small beginnings by his Spirit.

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”

‭‭Psalms‬ ‭139‬:‭13‬-‭16‬ ‭NIV‬‬

“The elder, To my dear friend Gaius, whom I love in the truth. Dear friend, I pray that you may enjoy good health and that all may go well with you, even as your soul is getting along well. It gave me great joy when some believers came and testified about your faithfulness to the truth, telling how you continue to walk in it. I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth. Dear friend, do not imitate what is evil but what is good. Anyone who does what is good is from God. Anyone who does what is evil has not seen God.”

‭‭3 John‬ ‭1‬:‭1‬-‭4‬, ‭11‬ ‭NIV‬‬

— Nicky Gumbel, Bible in One Year 2022 Classic Day 341

Righteousness- He makes me clean

Sanctifier- He has called me and set me apart

Healer- He heals all my diseases

Banner of Victory- He has defeated my enemies

Shepherd- He speaks to me and leads me

Peace- He is my peace in every storm

Provider- He supplies all of my needs

Father- I am His son or daughter

Alpha and Omega- He goes before me and will come after me

— Teach me how to pray by Aaron Burke

[ancestorsofjudah]

2 Kings 2: 19-22. "Spear Fishing."

Elisha "salvation from God is freedom and independence", becomes superimposed with Elijah, "the Presence of God in all things" and is asked to perform a miracle:

Healing of the Water

19 The people of the city said to Elisha, “Look, our lord, this town is well situated, as you can see, but the water is bad and the land is unproductive.”

20 “Bring me a new bowl,” he said, “and put salt in it.” So they brought it to him.

21 Then he went out to the spring and threw the salt into it, saying, “This is what the Lord says: ‘I have healed this water. Never again will it cause death or make the land unproductive.’” 

22 And the water has remained pure to this day, according to the word Elisha had spoken.

The Healing of the Water refers to the pharmaceutical and therapeutic benefits of the Dead Sea. The analogy of the extra salt which has killed everything in or near the sea bringing pleasure to humanity is the irony that is at the center of the myth above.

There are also suggestions of another sort, let your mind wander and you will figure it out.

As for the most direct meaning, we need to resort to the Gematria:

v. 19: The Value is 9110, ט‎יא אֶפֶס, tia is zero, "the year of the infinite." The moment a man or woman experiences intercourse and is okay with it, is the moment one is eligible to attain to Shabbat.

Before then, the mind remains unformed, the body incapable of comprehending its experiences, and the person is inadequate if not irrelevant in the greater social scheme.

v. 20: The Value is 4388, דג‎חח‎‎, daghah, "the formation of fish."

The masculine noun דג (dag) and the feminine noun דגה (daga) both meaning fish (literally "the multitudinous"). Fish were caught with spears (Job 41:7), hooks (Isaiah 9:8) or nets (Habakkuk 1:15), but only fish with fins and scales could be eaten (Leviticus 11:9-12). Fish feel the presence of God (Ezekiel 38:20), will exist and be hunted in the new creation.

As suffix ha, this particle indicates (1) femininity or possession by femininity, and (2) approach, formation or locality, which are closely related things according to Genesis 2:24.

v. 21: The Number is 4388, דגחח‎, דגחח‎, a chuckle:

“There is nothing beyond bliss,” states the ancient Book of Formation (2:4). Bliss is the origin of all being, the source of all life, the meaning behind all that occurs.

And what is bliss? It is being at self. At home. Where there is no need to go anywhere, where this moment is forever. Where there is nothing else."

v. 22: The Number is 4519, דהא‎ט, "that's it" which means Asher, which is the heartbeat of the Tetragammaton, Ehyeh Asher Ehyeh, which means "Ehi-Ya" "Brotherhood in God" + Happiness + Civil Society are the reasons man, God and mankind form this commune we are all trying to live in.

Happiness salts the water and makes it pure even as it permanently changes its natural properties. The fact Elisha, an emblem for the government salted the water is a strong hint as to how the natural properties of mankind might be modified in order to remove the causes of our current states of global unhappiness.

All we need to do is find the right governors and ensure they have successors waiting, right behind them in line. This process which I will call the Kabbalah of Spear Fishing, refers to the grooming and harvesting efforts we must perform to ensure the world is governed with complete competence.

A not so shocking revelation after that ordeal with Ahab and Jezebel.

[constitutionaladvocate]

Lt. Gen. Michael Flynn: Globalist Forces Are AT WAR With American Freedo...

BILL OF RIGHTS NEWS DOISCOVERY 

6/15/2023 10:59 AM

All orders are repugnant / according to real law. and all fake laws are repugnant void and null. why because of the overreach of the branch's powers, and because of the enumerated powers, and for making laws when they have no authority to make laws, lol. and if they did, they lost it according to law. 6/13/2023 7:31:50 PM THANK YOU, BILL OF RIGHTS NEWS DISCOVERY ***z INVESTIGATIONS. LET THE FACTS BE SUBMITTED TO THE TRUE FREE PEOPLE OF THE WORLD Over- watch for all free people united. bill of rights. The key to weed out the bad guys and deep state operatives, 6/13/2023 7:31:50 PM THANK YOU, BILL OF RIGHTS NEWS DISCOVERY INVES/ LET THE FACTS BE SUBMITTED TO FREE PEOPLE OF THE WORLD/ Over- watch for free people united. bill of rights. The key to weed out the bad guys and deep state operatives bill of rights office in every state. WHATS MODERN SLAVERY TODAY AND THAT THOSE DONT EVEN KNOW OR RELZE THEY ARE SLAVES, MODERN SLAVERY IS CODES STSTUTES RULES RGULATIONS FAKE LAWS LEGISLATIVE FIAT PERSUANT TO FREUD, ANYONE WHO MAKES LAWS THAT ARE IN CONFLCIT WITH THE REAL LAW AND THOSE WHO DO NOT KNOW THE DISTICTIVE DIFERENCE BETWEEN REAL LAW V THE FAKE LAWS. THAT WOULD BE YOU THE STANDARD MAN OR WOMEN CHILD AND UNDER UNFORM dmv PAPERS ANDN EFEEECTS, WHO IS NOT A SLAVE, ? YOU ARE A SLAVE UNLESS YOU WORK FOR YOUR SELF OR HAVE SLAVES OF YOUR OWN. ? THE ONES WHO ENFORCE IT AND MAKE IT AND THISE WHO DO NOT WORK A SO CALLED REGUALA JOB AND HRS A DAY. MOST THAT ARE NOT SLAVES IS GOVERMENT, LAWYERS ATTORNEYS' JUDGES DOCTORS AND PRIVATE LARGE CORPRATIONS OWNERS, THAT ARE USALLY LAWYERS CONGRESSMEN AND SENATORS, WE ARE ALL SLAVES UNDER CODES STSTUTES REGULATIONS AND PROCAMATIONS AND ORDERS AND POLICIES AND ALL Uniform CODES THAT HAVE NO VICITM OR PROPERTY DAMAGE. SO THERFORE WE ALL ARE SLAVES. EVEN YOU, AND YOU DONT EVEN KNOW IT. THE constitutions WHY IS THE CONSTITUIONS BEING SWEPT UNDER THE RUGH AND IGNORED DEPRIVED AND DIMINSIHED? BECAUSE IT CONTROA ALL LAWS THAT ENSLAVE THE MASSES. IF THE MASSES KNOW IT, THEY CAN CONTROL ALL LAWS CODES STATUTES AND RULES REGULATIONS AND THE SLAVE MASTERS, YOU ARE ACTUALLY THE SLAVE HOLDER IF YOU KNOW THE REAL LAW AND DECLARE NOT TO BE A SLAVE UNDER THE Ucc CODES. AND DMV SLAVE, MOST WILL NOT UNDERSTAND, SO BE A SLAVE OR KNOW TH CONTRACT THAT CONTROS ALL AND MAKES YOU THE Non-SLAVE. BE WISE, READ THE constitution AND WIAV IT HIGH. BE THE AMERICAN CLAIMED COMMONLLAW CITZZENS. SO HOW DO YOU NOT ECOME A SLAVE OR GET OUT OF BEING A SLAVE, ??? WORK FOR YOUR SELF AND ALWAYS READ THE LITTLE BOOK THAT CONTROLAS ALL LAWS FAR AS YOUR EYES CAN SEE. KNOW THE CONTRACT AND THE WARRANTY YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN AS A AMERICN CITZENS. MR. KIRKLAND. THE TRUTH I SHARE WITH YOU WILL SET YOU FREE IF WE ALL WAIVE AND FIGHT FOR TRUE FREEDOM AND AGAINST ALL REPUGNANT LAWS IN CONFLCIT, AND KNOW THE DIFERENCE BETWEEN AUTHORITY AND WHO HAS IT. https://youtu.be/F9fdSirNinQ https://rumble.com/vayaj7-reading-by-dwane-kirkland.html https://vimeo.com/253382719 WHO IS THE REAL ENEMEIS WITHIN AND WHO Scuttles OUR TRUE FREEDOM?

[thrashkink-coven]

The Bible does not outwardly condemn abortion itself, which is significant considering how common place the practice would have been at the time. Abortion is not explicitly forbidden in the Bible, nor by Jesus Christ, therefore most protestants were never against abortion. Catholics were the most outspoken opponents during the Roe v Wade era because the Church's doctrine of ensoulment. Protestants adopted this position later.

The bible has specific laws about the act of murder and is very clear that murder applies to fully individual human beings. It at no point ever refers to an unborn fetus as a person or says that a woman will be punished for terminating a pregnancy.

Numbers 5 reflects a situation in which, if a woman was pregnant, and her husband suspected that she'd been unfaithful to him, and that the seed growing within her womb wasn't of his 'planting', she could be required to be taken before the elders for intensive questioning. Typically, the woman would first be humiliated. Her head covering would be removed, and her braided hair loosened. Sometimes, the bodice of her tunic might be ripped to expose her breasts. If the elders weren't satisfied with her answer, she would be required to submit to that Test of the Bitter Waters. The drink she was required to consume consisted not only water and dust from the floor of the temple sanctuary, it derived it's bitterness from herbs which had abortifacient properties. The gist of the test was that if she was innocent of the thing her husband had accused her of doing, God would intervene and render the brew neutral, and neither she nor the fetus would suffer harm. The belief was that if she was guilty of that thing her husband had accused her of, God would not intervene, and the woman would suffer violent spontaneous miscarriage, sometimes causing the woman to hemorrhage to death as well. If this happened, her husband would be justified in his accusation, and was now free to marry another wife. If she survived the process, he was justified in divorcing her, and still free to marry another wife. If she didn't suffer abortion and/or death, she was vindicated, and her husband faced likely penalties for having borne false witness against her. It was unusual for the penalty to be death, and usually consisted of paying a fine.

The bible does not explicitly say “here’s how to have an abortion” because it never mentions abortion in general, and I will admit that I misspoke in calling them “instructions on how to have an abortion” because in reality its more so how to tell if your wife is cheating. But it does explicitly establish that intentional miscarriages should and will happen if a woman is unfaithful. God is very okay with pregnancy termination in this context. This is further expanded on in the Talmud which states that if a fetus poses a threat to the mother, it's to be ripped out of her.

“The Bible clearly states murder is wrong", true. However, murder is defined as the killing of another human. Based on the passages below, the Bible does not reference a fetus in the same regard as a developed human. There are multiple stages of becoming a human, this process is not completed in the womb.

* In the Old Testament, the punishment for murder is death. Meanwhile, the punishment for causing a pregnant woman to miscarry is a fine, (Exodus 21:22-25).

* Passages about God knowing one from the womb are typically used to support life beginning at conception. In these same passages, fetuses are stated to be developing, yet to become a human. A few examples are "you knit me together in my mother’s womb" and "Your eyes saw my unformed body", (Psalm 139). Is taking a seed out of the soil the same thing as chopping down a tree?

The Roman Catholic Church didn't oppose abortion until 1869, and that was not due to anything the Bible said about it, it was because of the logical implications of a Papal pronouncement from 1854. Most protestant Churches didn't oppose abortion until the early 1980's, and again that wasn't about the Bible, it was about major Protestant leaders like Jerry Falwell partnering with Republican operatives for mutual gain. The GOP would gain voters they lost by opposing the Civil Rights Movement, while conservative Protestant leaders would gain political influence.

Historically, going back to the Early Church, there has been no consensus on the issue of abortion and there's been theological debates about its morality going on since as far back as we have records, with no consensus.

And to be clear, terminating pregnancies was a VERY well known and common practice around this time. The Bible goes as far as to create hyper specific rules about a hundred other things, but never outwardly speaks about pregnancy termination at any point. None of this is to say that abortion should be viewed without extreme care. It's not something that should be taken lightly. But nothing in the Bible says it should be banned, especially for medical reasons, where it's viewed as required.

If you’re anti abortion for whatever reason, live your life. Just know that there is absolutely no biblical basis for that belief.

most frustrating thing I’ve learned recently as i continue to read the bible

yeah so the bible literally never, at any point condemns abortion. Jesus never condemned abortion. In fact :) the bible actually provides instructions on how to properly have one. seriously. Look into it. Christianity takes its ethical base from Judaism, and Judaism says that you're not a person with a soul until you draw your first breath.

so :)

hahaha :) there’s literally no reason :) why Christians want to deny women and afab people healthcare :) besides the obvious, to control our bodies.

like :) there’s literally no reason :))

guys 🙏 absolutely NO scripture. :) condemning abortion even once. :)))))))

i’m about to lose my fucking MIND.

[jzlily333]

🌺04/26LiveWell活出美好🌺

Our worth is given by God at creation and no one can take it away from us.​​​​

Your eyes have seen my unformed constitution; you have written in your book all the days you have appointed before I even live them (Psalm 139:16).​

04/26 Bible verses

Brethren, I speak in terms of human relations: even though it is only a man's covenant, yet when it has been ratified, no one sets it aside or adds conditions to it. (Galatians 3: 15)

Brothers, let me speak according to human common sense: Even though it is a human covenant, if it has been established, nothing can be broken or added to (Galatians 3:15).

04/26Good words 

1. When you are in trouble, you should still be happy, because only in trouble can you inspire creative and positive breakthroughs.

2. Knowing that past setbacks can turn into experiences that support the present can help us face the challenges and difficulties ahead with peace of mind.

Hymn: Nothing is impossible for Him

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81AEUeq0g2U

🌺04/26活出美好🌺

我們的價值是在上帝創造時所賦予的，這是任誰也無法奪走的。       

我未成形的體質，你的眼早已看見了；你所定的日子，我尚未度一日，你都寫在你的冊子上了(詩篇139: 16)。 

04/26圣经金句

Brethren, I speak in terms of human relations: even though it is only a man's covenant, yet when it has been ratified, no one sets it aside or adds conditions to it.  (Galatians 3: 15)   

弟兄們，我且照著人的常話說，雖然是人的文約，若已經立定了，就沒有能廢棄或加增的 (加拉太書3: 15) 。

04/26金玉良言

1. 當你在困境中，依然要歡喜快樂，因為唯有在難處中才會激發創意積極突破。

2. 知道過去的挫折，可以變成支持現在的經驗，更能幫助我們心平氣和面對眼前的挑戰與困難。

詩歌：在祂沒有難成的事 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81AEUeq0g2U

[ruinouss-archived]

          “Fuck,” she cursed loudly. Popping the hood of the car caused a plume of scalding white smoke to billow up toward the sky like a white beacon. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and anyone driving Highway 50 would instantly notice. Coughing, she propped the hood open and used both hands to wave over the scorching engine. Once it was clear enough to inspect she placed her hands on the edge, looking over the parts to try and determine what was going on. She pushed her sunglasses up to act as a headband, keeping her bangs out of her face. The engine was still too hot for her to touch, the metal pinging noisily as it started to cool.

     The desert was scorching hot, sweat already beginning to glisten on her tanned skin. She was thankful she’d chosen jean shorts but her leather jacket was causing a problem. The black color was drawing in even more heat but she needed it to hide the pistol in the waistband of her shorts. No one would blame her if they saw it; a young female all alone on a hot desert highway. Swiftly, she wrapped her hair up in a messy bun to get the thick locks off the back of her neck. The highway wasn’t as busy as most but she couldn’t recall the last time she spotted another car and figured there wouldn’t be anyone to really assist. 

     A quick glance up and down the highway and she could see she was very alone. Damn. Time was wasting and she needed to get to some town called Desperation before her target fled or someone got to him first. There was a large bounty placed on his head and her resources had informed her Desperation was his last known trajectory. 

     With the engine a bit cooler she returned to looking it over getting a whiff of a pungent fuel odor. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no,” she dropped down and looked under the car to see the last bit of her fuel leaking out, drying almost instantly as it touched the blistering ground. Hitting the grill of the car she stood up, assuming a seal had broken and caused the fuel to leak out on the engine. It’d explain all the smoke. 

     “God dammit, piece of shit,” she grumbled, fumbling around her coat pocket for her phone. This is what she got for renting a car instead of using her own. Should’ve known better but if she got in a chase she didn’t want to risk damaging her own ride. Her expression dropped even more as she realized there was no service. Dropping her glasses back over her eyes she started holding the device up, trying to pick up at least a little signal to call for a tow, unaware of the danger heading her way.

Semi-plotted starter @basstardz​

[cithaerons]

i really do think there’s a lot to be said about the parallels between dante wanting to embrace the sodomites but being unable to, immediately followed by him wanting virgil to embrace him, but being unable to speak, in the next scene... & that and the comparison/contrast between dante’s relationship with ser brunnetto and his relationship with virgil.... i don’t think it’s necessarily ‘dante’s ride on geryon is a metaphor for homosexual desire’ but i do think there’s something very specific & interesting going on there.

[elumish]

@mjjune if you care to share 👀 i'm v curious about this tbh

Okay so these are fairly unformed thoughts based at least in part on the fact that I'm currently watching "Indelible" (S8E1 of CSI: NY) for my PhD data collection right now.

I was a child when 9/11 happened, and I grew up fairly close (not NYC, but a commuting town to NYC) in an area that lost a fair number of people. I didn't know anyone who died, but that's more chance than anything else.

I grew up pretty literally in the shadow of the attacks. Ironically, that means that I grew up in a place where we talked about it far less than I think they did in most places that were further removed. Teachers had no way of knowing if kids in our class had lost parents/relatives in the attacks, and I think the adults just didn't know how to talk about it. They were too close to the attacks.

I didn't see the footage until I was a senior in high school, something like 11-12 years later. I've watched the footage twice, both times for school. We did moments of silence every year that I was in school, but we didn't talk about it.

In TV shows, 9/11 is presented as this massive collective trauma for the country, which was absolutely true. You can argue whatever you want about whether we as a country overreacted and whether politicians took advantage of it to carry out their own agenda (which, to be clear, I wouldn't disagree with), but for a lot of particularly white Americans, it was the first time that there was a real sense that the country as a whole was under threat. Unlike a lot of other countries in Europe, etc. there simply is not a major history of attacks from external actors in the United States. Pearl Harbor literally was the only modern frame of reference that Americans had, and that was what brought us into WWII.

Obviously it wasn't the first attack on the U.S. homeland by external actors, or even the first by Al Qaeda on the World Trade Center, but notably, the 1993 bombing failed. It killed six people. That was bad, it was damaging--but it wasn't visceral.

So a lot of shows set outside of New York and DC/Virginia show 9/11 as That Big Attack That We Need To Prevent From Happening Again. It's the catch-all whenever they're talking about terrorism, particuarly Islamist terrorism or terrorism focused on planes. It's The Event, it's the boogeyman, it's capital letters, bolded, italicized. It was an Attack On All Of Us, and They Are Coming To Get Us.

Shows (especially cop/firefighter shows) set in NYC and to a lesser extent DC/Virginia, as well as shows with major characters from NYC (e.g., Hawaii Five-0, 9-1-1: Lone Star) tend to make it much more personal. CSI: NY has a major character whose wife died in the attacks. Hawaii Five-0's Danny talks about it. 9-1-1: Lone Star has a major character who was a firefighter who has lung cancer from responding.

In many of these shows, 9/11 (the attack, not the police response after) becomes inextricably tied with law enforcement and first responders, and it becomes in some ways both reframed as being a particular tragedy for emergency responders (and, to be clear, hundreds of extremely brave first responders died or suffered major long-term effects from responding to it) and also framed as an excuse for extreme and horrifying actions taken by law enforcement.

Using 9/11 as a frame of reference when doing terrorism studies is always interesting because, on one hand, it literally changed the field of terrorism studies and how we conceptualize terrorism as a whole. As someone who studies terrorism, it is impossible for me to separate my understanding of terrorism from the 9/11 attacks. But at the same time, continuing to center 9/11 as the terrorist attack constrains our understanding of terrorism and hurts our ability to effectively think of and respond to terrorism (especially domestic terrorism, which is more my area of study).

I have so many thoughts about how 9/11 is presented in TV shows