#wartime tag

[sunn-mechanic]

[ID in alt]

A wartime!Grillby with a new brush I found :)

[blistering-typhoons]

song: it only took a moment (wall-e soundtrack (also hello dolly i guess))

[cinnamoncascadian]

Is it permanent?

Posted with @lokewolf82's permission from:

https://x.com/little_wolf82/status/1614702878538752000?s=20

2023-01-15

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

The refugees in Sirion hearing the grind of metal and angry shouts and thinking it’s happening again.

[midnight-scugs]

Machines of Wartime AU character study #1: Unparalleled Innocense

Buckle the fuck in folks this is gonna be another long one because I'm passionate about how I characterize them here. Long post again, so more info comes after the cut. Note for reference and clarity that throughout this post UI will be referred to with they/ae pronouns quite interchangeably, so instances of either set are in reference to them.

No real major content warnings here, although I'll give a small warning for self destructive behavior, as well as a more minor precautionary warning for brief mentions of neglect and dehumanization from their admins.

UI is, essentially, a high energy constant stimulation seeker at their core, and a lot of what they do shows it in some way. It's a major reason (along with far less personality shaping going into their generation) behind why they used to be quite mean here before making steps towards improvement. They were never taught a healthy outlet to seek stimulation, so they will try pretty much anything to see what sticks; pretty much anything that gets a form of reaction from others is included in what does stick.

Spreading rumors and other bits of info makes people react, whether good or bad. This means results. People who learn them often further spread them. This means even more results. And when you build a reputation for yourself as "the mean rumor spreader", these results will get back to you all over again. Messages, reactions, more people coming to them to start shit; it's all results and reactions and stimulation. It's an easy way to get what ae want... even if it means people thinking less of aer for it. But hey, can't get lonely if you're constantly too stimulated or too busy seeking more of everything to really think about how nobody quite genuinely likes you! It's easy when you don't let yourself focus on feelings, just shut down any attempts at self awareness!

The reason they're like this, in reality, primarily comes not from being truly mean or spiteful at their core, but just from being built in a way where lack of proper guidance or true care from their creators after creation has left them both feeling a little abandoned ("why bother behaving when nobody cares about me anyway") and physically incapable of tolerating understimulation ("if I'm not doing enough it almost physically hurts"). They have incredibly high processing power; a measurable amount more than even Pebbles, and Pebbles and UI are respectively the first and second iterators of their generation to be created. If they're not using enough of that processing power, it drives them up a wall a little; they genuinely cannot stand being in a state where they're not receiving enough stimulation of some sort. They hate boredom and lack of activity and even just sitting still for too long. Movement, sound, reading messages, running 5 background processes at once, taking on multiple high intensity projects, whatever; it's all the same as long as it gives aer what their systems crave. More stimulation. And saying and doing shit to get reactions is heavily related to that; it's negative stimulation seeking behavior that was never properly taught as "don't do this it's not healthy", because quite frankly aer admins don't care what ae do, as long as ae have a high work output. They're just an iterator after all, right?

And then we come to why they're not really like this anymore, way more toned down in how they act. One big reason is simply time and maturity; they've gained more life experience and kind of just grown away from this sort of behavior in favor of better outlets. They're still young and reckless, but not as overwhelmingly so after a good few decades of time to live and grow. They've seen that it makes people not like them to act like that; even now they still have no real friends due to their reputation. It makes them lonely now that they've calmed down enough to actually think about how others view them instead of living in the moment; they don't want to be lonely. They don't want to be sad. Ae don't want to experience negative emotions, because feelings as a whole tend to be very intense for aer and bad ones really suck to deal with. And they want to get away from these feelings.

Another big reason is because of Pebbles, as was alluded to a little in this post. He's their partner, he cares about them, and they care about him too. For one thing, they don't want their own behaviors to reflect poorly on him by proxy; they're self aware enough now to see that this could happen, and they don't want anyone else to be made to feel like a bad person simply because of being associated with them. They don't want this for someone they love. For another thing, he honestly just makes them feel seen. He can see that they struggle quite badly when understimulated; but unlike aer admins who simply ignore anything that's not work and results and responsibilities, he actually cares enough to help them find a healthy outlet to, well, actually properly stim instead of leaving them to seek unhealthy, and ultimately self destructive since it blows up their ability to maintain friendships, methods. He views them as an entire person deserving of respect, not just a machine with a purpose. That's why they're actually together quite a lot; he's willing to give them what they need to get that stimulation in a more healthy way, whether that be engaging them in direct conversation or letting them constantly fidget with his clothes or just giving them a good squeeze because ae like the feeling. He loves them and cares about them and will go out of his way to keep them happy and engaged and focused on more positive outlets. He involves them in projects a lot because they're actually a very good worker when they care about the task at hand, and they love being delegated tasks to engage with! Giving them more tasks + generally more ideas on how to properly and healthily stim is exactly what they need, and he gives it to aer. It's a big part in why the two of them have a very strong relationship now, the level of genuine care and respect they've cultivated for each other.

They're actually getting a lot better now! They've mostly moved away from the more toxic sorts of behaviors they used to display, since they now have much better outlets. They're not a completely different person personality wise; they're still quite socially driven, and ae do love a good bit of interesting information. They're just mature enough now to not spread things they shouldn't. Ae still don't have true friends really, but they're working towards that and finally starting to gain acquaintances who actually like them and value them for who they are as a person. And they're a lot happier for it; they feel seen and valued and like they have actual reasons to try and be better now. They are loved, they are seen, and they are better off for it.

TL;DR UI is essentially a high powered supercomputer with ADHD that went completely unmanaged for a long time, and as a result they started seeking out negative stimming behaviors. They were never shown anything more healthy as an alternative. They matured over time and were finally shown better stimming methods by someone who cares about them, and it's helped them grow and improve a lot.

[apollos-boyfriend]

you have the url schlarklezyaoi, as in "yaoi" regarding schlatt (not a normal person) and captain sparklez (creeper aw not a normal man) and expected to get normal messages in your ask box?

schlatt lost his testicles to a land mine in the war and field medic captain sparklez personally stitched his taint back together in the trenches. that was their meetcute

[copper-skulls]

@thornwolfy235 replied to your post “"haha wha tif I gave the vampire au grillby...”:

I must know more about firebirb with sword.

​FIREBIRD GRILLBY TIME

He's still heavily fire-aligned, and MAN does he give off incredible amounts of heat, but the only "fire" part of him is really, his crest and partially his tail (and even then, if you rifle through it, it's a weird feather+fire mixture at the base). He's very much solid under all that fluff.

All his feathers, whether golden or crimson, give off incredible amounts of light, even after being shed. So while this massive bird form is great for fast moving around, he's also a massive, glowing target, so his tactic of choice is flying into enemy lines, transforming into his more compact, humanoid form and then wreaking havoc with his claymore and fire magic on the ground. inventory magic comes really in handy, though he might have some kind of sword strap even in his birb form i'm not really sure. lol

Firebirds are not from the part of the world where the war takes place; he's traveled a bit. not entirely of his own volition, sometimes. firebird feathers are highly valuable and their song highly coveted; he has some Bad Experiences. he also has language troubles for a while but since he doesn't talk much it's not that. apparent.

[istherewifiinhell]

Fascinating fascinating looking at like. 40-60s era jazzy croony music and like. How it links to nostalgia and how that links with war and colonialism. Like who writes the song who performs them what are they refering to. But then who hears them who takes them to other countries what does it get used as nostalgia FOR.

[raayllum]

Bloodmoon Huntress + Duty 

Runaan and Ethari told me something that helped me understand… well, a lot of things, really. They said that, sometimes, we make sacrifices so that the ones we love don’t have to. It’s part of protecting them—part of protecting you. Taking on hard choices and going to dark places is an act of love.

[bakerstmel]

Fall Favorite Fic Festival, Entry 3

I’m not putting any pressure on myself to post these daily, just as the spirit moves. In case you’ve been keeping score or something.

This entry includes my absolute favorite love declaration of all time in any media of any kind anywhere. It also gives me an excuse to talk about narrative distance, so a double win for me!

the thunder beneath his ribs, by darcylindbergh

Darcylindbergh writes lyrically, as in their works are word music. They play with language to great effect, and as someone who pathetically paws at that kind of thing from time to time, I have the greatest respect for their efforts.

(This one got long, so I'm getting all fancy and installing a cut. The love declaration is at the bottom of the post.)

I'm talking about this kind of thing, the opening paragraph (blue text is darcylindbergh throughout this post):

The slap of feet echoes against the pavement, nearly drowned out by the crash of thunder and heavy rainfall. Neon lights glint off wet concrete, turn the night into a kaleidoscopic circus of noise and heat and confusion, and John twists into it, gets lost in it, running fast, breathing hard, elbows in, focus.

And just like that, we are running, and we are in the rain, and more than that, we are running in the city in the rain, and more than that, we are in John's head like we have a regular table there. We are agitated, anxious, scared- we know John is a veteran, and if we don't, that's about to become clear in other ways-and it's all via rhythm and word choice.

You can do that sort of thing directly, and it can also work:

It was a thousand year rain, the kind of rain London hadn't seen since six months prior. John had always thought of rain as cold, growing up in the council flats, but this was hot, steamy, the kind of rain that felt like a hiss, like a slap, like a bullet. It was hard to breathe in rain like this, hard to keep his terror under control, but it didn't matter; he had to keep moving, keep running, keep up.

That's just me screwing around, but I hope you can see the difference--Darcy leans into the rhythm of the running, TWISTS into it, GETS LOST in it, running FAST, breathing HARD. It's elevated language. This can cause issues, in that artistry can feel more formal. I would argue that's likely intentional here, because darcylindbergh is a master of narrative distance. In this case, we are swept along in this steamy rain, physically close to the characters and in John's head but lacking the full access pass. Part of this is that John is fully in this moment and not thinking about anything else, and Darcy is using the rhythm of this language to tell us that without having to tell us that. This kind of attention to detail allows a good writer to craft a world in 5,700 words and have it ring true.

Anyone who talks writing with me ends up hearing a rant about POV. First person, third person, third person close, it all has to do with how much we know. Right? And I feel as though it's pretty standard in fic to write a close third, since fic is above all a character driven genre, but in general, the best writing swoops in and out. You pull back and get the lay of the land, dive in to feel the tension and see the eye twitches, and then pull back up to learn the history of why the land matters in the first place. Like so:

Around them, London carries on, oblivious: the rush of steam from cheap late-night restaurants, the splash of cabs through puddles growing in the streets, the smell of soaked skips and dirty bodies infiltrating the labyrinthine alleys Sherlock leads them through.

A bit later:

John had walked these streets once and thought nothing of it. He’d been to the pubs and the post offices, the Tescos and the Bootses, in the backs of cabs and on the Tube, and scarcely gave it any consideration.

Now he’s constantly looking over his shoulder, skin crawling and mind prickling with the possibility of being watched or followed. Dangerous has lost its slick attraction.

If this were a screenplay, and that was camera direction, we'd start from an overhead shot and then draw in down a city street, Baker Street maybe, with the tube station and that Boots right there by Marylebone, and then settle on John's anxious face as he glances behind him. Likely, then, we'd pull back a bit to show John behind Sherlock, closing the distance, getting ready for what happens next.

OK, I know no one is reading all this. I've gone a bit meta-mad. I just like writing that makes me smarter, and this fic does that. Even after all this time, the breadth and quality of the writing of this fandom in general just knocks me out.

Anyway, I promised a love declaration.

"I’m going to love you now,” John says. “I’m going to love you the way I’ve tried not to since the very beginning. I’m going to love with you every single cell of me and every single breath, and I will follow you until you tell me to stop and then wait for you to come back, and when I die I’m going to die with your name imprinted on my very bones with how much and how hard and how long I’ve loved you.”

Across the pillows, Sherlock blinks. He takes a tiny breath that doesn’t seem to make it past his lips and blinks again.

Then he takes John’s hands in his own and studies them, as though looking for some proof written in John’s lifelines, and he presses a kiss down into John’s palm. “Okay,” he breathes, damp and warm. He kisses John’s other palm. “Okay.”

And you know what's crazy? Those aren't even the best lines in this fucking thing. This is the best line:

Sherlock offers John his cuffs.

I mean, for fuck's sake (in the best possible way).

[wartime-worrier]

[draqo-pctter]

life grows colder // a dramione one shot for the truly, madly, deeply fest 2023

Draco Malfoy remembers a lot of things. He remembers the way that Hermione’s hair curled around his finger and the way that his name sounded coming from her lips. He remembers desperately trying to save her, as she desperately tried to save him, both of them meeting in the middle with a promise of forever at the end of so much pain. And he remembers having a second chance. A second chance he’s still waiting for. Or: The year is 2003, but Draco is still in 1998.

words: 7.4k rated e, explicit tags: dead dove: do not eat, mcd, non-hea, explicit sexual content, violence, wartime au, young love, a love that never gets the chance to bloom

click here to read on ao3

[m0r1bund]

[Image: The Chief, in full power armor, walking the streets somewhere. She looks up at a wall, which is plastered with anti-imperial leaflets. They are simple and graphical, block-printed in black, white, and red.

One leaflet depicts the stylized Valkyrie helmets that are worn by Chief’s company. It is split down the middle and bleeding profusely. The text reads ‘REMEMBER THE DAY, FOR THEY WILL NOT.’

Another depicts a silhouetted figure. Only their eye is visible, which weeps blood. The tear streak splits the composition down the middle, sort of like the other leaflet. The background is further divided into a red maze of wires, and a blank white plane. The figure holds up their hand, which is stained with blood, or perhaps they are holding something bloody. The text reads ‘THE BODY REMEMBERS WHAT THE MIND FORGOT.’]

◆

Many thoughts, brain is a scrambled egg. Maybe you will get the essay at some point, but not right now u_u

[shoshiwrites]

Meet the OCs — Clara Fernandes

Born into a Portuguese family, Clara takes up work at a filling station when the war starts, eventually moving to a welding job alongside Lena. She is a roommate of Jo's and strikes up a correspondence with one of Jo's paratrooper subjects. 

She can be found in many prompts, including this one with Jo, and this one, which sees her and her wartime correspondent back stateside.

[seesboy]

okay then . popipos your david byrne

[n4h354]

Once paper boats, now warships Seven folds of man’s ego trip Paper hearts were made to rip

Murals of faces, blacked with grime Drones and bombs sing lullabies at bedtime This is what happens when art is crime

Soured frosting on a birthday cake Exit wounds in place of heartache The school is rubble at daybreak

No words to voice their consternation Children forged in revolution Become its teeth, its serration

Paper hearts, folded once, now folded twice Shown dreams of ecstasy and paradise Paper hearts, misguided, now folded thrice

Young men take despots for commanders Trained in death, destruction, and slander Their graves marked only by pink oleander

Paper hearts, creased, unfolded Children turned to men blindfolded By zealots, fear, and hunger moulded

This is not about you or me This happens to be what happens to be Or are you, too, blindfolded and cannot see?