#why the fuck is he trying to restart the war???

[branwendaughterofllyr]

Hello! Numbers 3 and 7 for the ask game?:)

3. Screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

Nonny, I know I have the screenshot of "Dany is a shooting star, there one moment, and gone the next" SOMEWHERE but I cannot find it. That one lives rent free in mind ever since I saw it in response to the criticism that Dany can't just conquer Slaver's Bay and then ditch it.

Any take that ends with "Sansa should have sex with Tyrion so she can learn to see past appearances." Sorry the 12 year hostage doesn't want to sleep with the Lannister husband she's been forced to marry. That sounds like a you problem, Tyrion.

The child-bride Daemon discourse also continues to crack me up. Like, Daemon can be mad at his grandparents making him go through with an arranged marriage, but let's not pretend that the dragon riding prince who answers only to the king was at the mercy of his lady wife in a society that has legal wife beating. (also, Rhea was probably the same age as him. If she was tons older, like Ceryse and Maegor, it would have been mentioned.) He had a dragon. Not only could he fuck off any time he wanted, he DID. He literally faffed off to the Stepstones, and Viserys kept giving him jobs in KL, he was not stuck at Runestone under Rhea's thumb, and I wish the fandom would stop the take that Rhea totally deserved to be killed by Daemon/on his orders because Daemon didn't like her. He had her killed/killed her, tried to take her stuff, and then suffered zero consequences for it.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

ohhhhhh. Maybe Rhaenyra? I was fully prepared to like messy selfish girl boss Rhaenyra, but the show's framing and the way the fandom uncritically laps it up bothers me. But I don't hate HATE her, and most of my dislike stems from both how George and the show chose to handle her.

uh, the Stannis the Mannis love looped right back around to being funny to me, so not that.

Like, I can't think of any character that I hate bc of the way the fandom acts about them specifically. The opposite has happened a lot, but not leading to hatred.

Oh wait. I know the answer. the Alysanne Blackwood wank has genuinely made me dislike this character, and even her relationship with Cregan Stark. I though she was fine the first time I read F&B, but now she genuinely annoys me.

[darkstarofchaos]

Spoilers for EarthSpark S2 below the cut.

The problem with Starscream isn't that he was evil. I have to lead with that because apparently if you complain about how he was handled, people are just going to assume you wanted him to be redeemed. I am not a Starscream redemptionist, nor am I a fan of "redemptions" where an evil character becomes a Good Guy. One of the biggest issues I have with Megatron redemptions is that he never actually has to address what he did to his own side, he just fucks off to join the other side/goes his own way. Suffice to say, I was not hoping for EarthSpark to "redeem" Starscream (unless it was in the more personal sense of trying to do better by his own people).

The problem with Starscream is not that he was evil. The problem is that, to make him the specific brand of evil the Powers That Be wanted, they had to completely ignore his previous characterization.

I honestly did not have a problem with most of his (admittedly few) scenes. His motivation for being Evil was disappointingly shallow, but him being grumpy-but-accepting of the new Terrans fit with his S1 characterization. The bit where Skywarp complains when he doesn't do anything to punish "Spitfire's" disrespect could easily have been spun as him trying to be a better leader after his talk with Hashtag. I liked that he isn't stingy with praise when someone accomplishes something. Even the painfully underdeveloped motivation could have been expanded into him trying to do what he thought was best for his faction. All the building blocks for a villainous-but-sympathetic Starscream were right there.

Which is why watching everything fall apart in the last 20 minutes felt like character assassination.

You cannot convince me that the Starscream who knew Hashtag for an hour and was ready to risk his life for her is the same Starscream who murdered two children without blinking. You cannot convince me that the Starscream who criticized Megatron's violent leadership would consider it a compliment when he's called more cruel than Megatron. I don't care what previous Starscreams were like, this one had an established characterization that does not work with what we see later. Not unless working with the Autobots briefly completely disillusioned him to the possibility of a lasting peace.

Also, love how the time skip allows them to just avoid any sort of fallout from having the people you were working with go back to trying to kill you. Love how there was no deeper reason to the war restarting than "they're Decepticons". Heaven forbid we get any sort of conflict with the two sides trying and failing to work together, and the falling out being a shared responsibility and not just "the Cons were actually still evil, lol". Can't have anyone grappling with how things went wrong and wishing they'd done something differently to maintain the peace. Megatron yells at Starscream to end the war like the Autobots played no part in it continuing. Which is obviously the intent, but it just feels like such a lazy copout to keep the Good Guys morally pure.

The Decepticons were being hunted down and locked up. They had no reason to think well of the Autobots or the humans, which means that if the Autobots wanted peace, it was their responsibility to reach out and prove that things could be different. Yes, the Decepticons would need to put in effort too, but they were not the ones - at least not the only ones - who needed to prove that they meant well. If the two sides worked together for a while and the Decepticons still unanimously rejected the possibility of ending the war, the Autobots share the blame for that decision.

I have plenty of other issues with how S2 is going so far (why was Nightshade the only Terran who got completely relegated to side character?), but I'll save my rant about the Chaos Terrans for later. It'll be huge, trust me.

[satansapostle6]

X

Josh Futturman has always had a crush on his beautiful coworker, the sharp, sexy scientist he thought he could only dream of talking to.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

Part Four

Part Five: My Balls, Your Court

Josh knew that he had to make a move with Brynne, and soon. He knew this partly because for the last few days, Ray had continuously been telling him, ‘You gotta make the first move’.

The ball was in his court, and he needed to act quickly. So, he was trying to work up the courage to do so. After all, he knew for a fact that Brynne was single, but he also knew that women like that didn’t tend to stay single for long if they didn’t want to.

He knew that the annual Kronish Ball, a formal office party before Christmas, was coming up that Friday. So, he figured, that would be the perfect opportunity to ask Brynne out on a date, or at least hang out with her at the hall if he couldn’t get his shit together and ask her out. Ray was heavily encouraging this, and so was Dr. Kronish, for that matter.

That afternoon, Josh Futturman had finally worked up the courage to head up to the lab a little while before leaving work that day, when he found that there might’ve been a slight problem with that plan. As he headed towards the lab, he saw a couple of scientists leaving in a hurrry, looking shell-shocked.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” the young woman breathed.

“It’s okay, it’s fine, we just have to fix it,” the young man told her.

“Hey,” Josh frowned as they looked at him, “What’s going on? Is Dr. Camillo in one of his moods again?”

The female lab assistant quickly shook her head, seeming terrified. “No. It’s Dr. Johansson,” she informed him in a hushed tone.

“Dr. Johansson?” Josh said in surprise.

“Yeah. Someone messed up a bunch of data, and now we have to start running the tests all over again. Set us back two months. She’s fucking livid,” the male lab assistant explained.

Josh said nothing, cautiously approaching the lab, half expecting a war zone. He walked in on Brynne scolding one of the underlings, presumably the one responsible for the mistake, sounding disturbingly like Dr. Kronish on the rare occasions where he would actually get angry.

“No, that’s not what I’m asking you,” Brynne stated, seething beneath her calm exterior. “Did you, or did you not, forget to check the input dates?” she demanded.

“I… Forgot to check the input dates,” the young man told her, barely able to look her in the eye.

“And how is that possible?” Brynne interrogated him. “Did the forms not specifically say to double check, triple check, fucking quadruple check, the input dates, because there might be some confusion on that?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “They did.”

“And did Dr. Fernandez not specifically tell you to notify him before submitting the reports?” she concluded.

“Yeah,” the guy nodded. “He did.”

“Well then, why the fuck did you not do it?” she demanded.

Josh stood there awkwardly in silence, never having once seen her this angry before.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

“‘I don’t know’?!” Brynne repeated. “‘I don’t know’ is not an acceptable response for someone working in a laboratory! You’re curing disease, not making a fucking McChicken!”

Her voice had a terrifying echo throughout the empty room, and although Josh was paralyzed with fear, he now knew that Brynne’s rage was completely justified from what he heard.

“I’m gonna ask you again, because I hired you, and am therefore responsible if it turns out I hired someone completely incompetent. Now, why… in the hell… did you not have Dr. Fernandez check your work before you submitted it?” she prompted.

“I…” he paused, seemingly realizing how careless he sounded. “I thought it was good. So I just submitted it.”

“Unbelievable,” Brynne muttered, “That was careless, lazy, and above all, just arrogant. You cost us two months worth of testing, and thousands of dollars to restart the entire process, with one little careless mistake. You realize that, at a place like this, I can fire you for that?”

He was quiet for a moment, then responded.

“Yeah.”

“Now, I’m pissed, but you realize I could have you scrubbing the fucking toilets for Josh over there?!”

Josh gulped nervously, realizing he was now a part of the conversation.

“Josh. How would you like a day off, hmm?” Brynne asked, obviously a rhetorical question. “How would you like a nice day off, while Brennan here cleans up a whole building worth of shit?”

Josh just frowned awkwardly. “Uh… That sounds nice.”

“See, if I was an asshole like Dr. Camillo, you’d be scrubbing shit right now,” Brynne pointed out, “You’d be scrubbing shit for the rest of your career, and you’d still have to thank me, because working in Dr. Kronish’s lab is still a privilege. But I’m gonna be beyond fair, and have you personally run up to Dr. Kronish’s office and tell him why we can’t go public for another two months, if we’re lucky.”

“Alright,” he nodded, not having anything else to add.

Josh was suddenly pushed aside as Dr. Camillo barged into the room, fuming.

“Is this the jackass that fucked all the data to shit, and cost us another two months?!” he boomed.

“Stu… I swear to fucking God,” Brynne Johansson warned. “Get the fuck out!”

“I don’t work for you! I work for Dr. Kronish,” he argued.

“Oh yeah? Go and fucking tell Kronish you’re pissing me the fuck off right now, and see what he says!” she suggested. “Do it! I fucking dare you!”

Josh and Lucas Brennan were both equally terrified for their lives as they watched Dr. Camillo rush out of the room with his tail between his legs. Brynne turned back to her employee, about past her breaking point.

“Brennan. Go tell Dr. Kronish what happened, specifically your part in it, and then go work on restarting everything,” Brynne exhaled slowly. “If I hear you disregard anything you’re told again, you’re fired. If I talk to Dr. Kronish later today and he says you never told him the full story, you’re fired. Understood?”

“Yeah,” Brennan nodded quickly, “Understood.”

“Go,” she barked, not wanting him in her sight for any longer.

Josh quickly stepped aside for Brennan as he quickly rushed out of the room. He looked over at Brynne, who just stood in the middle of the empty room, one hand on her hip, and one hand squeezing her temples in an attempt to soothe her approaching stress migraine.

“Hey, Josh,” she sighed, sounding exhausted.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

“What’s up?” she asked him.

Suddenly, Josh no longer felt like asking her out on a date.

“Sorry, it’s nothing important, if this is a bad time, I can just leave you alone,” he offered.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she assured him. “Sorry. I didn’t want anyone else to have to see that.”

“It’s okay,” he promised her, “I get it.”

“You must think I’m an asshole,” she scoffed, a sad bitterness to her tone, “I felt like Dr. Camillo.”

“No,” Josh shook his head immediately, “Definitely not. I mean, you’re tough, and everything, but… You’re fair.”

Brynne just nodded appreciatively, genuinely comforted. “Thanks. I… I’m just pissed we have to start all over again.”

Josh realized that this was one of the first genuine conversations he’d ever had with her; no flirting, no banter, just talking.

“Yeah, who wouldn’t be?” Josh agreed sympathetically. “Weren’t you scheduled to go public with everything after New Year’s?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, frustrated by her current predicament, “We were. Now, everything has to be pushed back.”

“Jesus,” he murmured.

“Anyways. Enough of that for today. Did you wanna talk to me about something?” she wondered.

Josh gulped fearfully, having no idea how to segue.

“Uh…”

He only got more nervous as she looked at him, naturally expecting an answer.

“The Kronish Ball! On Friday!” Josh managed, realizing he wasn’t making any sense.

Brynne just nodded, not understanding the relevance. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that.”

“You’re going, right?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I’ll be there.”

“Great!” he laughed, horrified as he realized there was more to that sentence. “Did you, uh… have a date?” he croaked out.

She shook her head, and he nearly jumped for joy.

“No, I was just gonna come on my own.”

“Great!” he blurted out again, not knowing where to go from there. “…Me too!”

Josh cursed himself as he realized that was all he knew to say. She just stared at him blankly, equally unsure of how to continue the conversation.

“Cool.”

“Cool,” Josh forced a smile that was really more of an awkward grimace, slowly backing out of the room. “Cool…”

The word was about to lose its meaning. Frantic to say something, anything at all, he opened his mouth before his brain had actually planned out what to say to her.

“My balls…! Your court?!” he yelled out an invitation, alarming the both of them.

He was mortified as he realized what he’d actually said to this woman, a distinguished scientist with a PhD. She just blinked, completely dumbfounded by his words.

“…What exactly are you asking me, Futturman?” she questioned. “I’m not sure why, exactly, but should I be contacting HR?”

“No…! Sorry!” Josh laughed, close to tears, “I just… Uh…”

He quickly realized it would sound worse if he were to just stop there, so he figured he was forced to correct himself.

“I was just wondering… Since we were both planning on going alone…” he had no idea what she was thinking.

“Yeah?” Brynne prompted.

“I, uh… Did you, maybe, wanna… go to the party, together?” he slowly stumbled over the sentence. “As, like, a date?”

He was horrified as she paused for a moment, her beautiful features seeming completely blank.

“Yeah, Futturman,” she chuckled, lightly brushing back her coppery hair, “Yeah, I would.”

“Okay! Great!” Josh exclaimed, in awe of himself. “Cool!”

“Cool,” Brynne nodded.

She stood there, watching in amusement as he slowly backed out of the room before racing down the hallway to celebrate, silently screaming as he pumped his fists in the air

-

Part Six

[hualianff]

Thinking about modern au artist HC who excels at various traditional art forms including ceramics, painting, and sculpting. Soon enough, the time comes for HC to learn the witchcraft that is digital art.

And man is it a phat STRUGGLE.

In general, HC talks out loud to himself during his artistic process - a quirk that XL (the husband) can’t help but find endearing.

(HC waiting for his shit to render: “anytime now…preferably within the next century…” 🙄

HC shading: “what if we make you a little darker? just like that…hmm, I don’t hate it-??”

HC, confused: *aggressively scribbles on the screen* “HELLO?? WHY ARENT YOU BLENDING!?”

HC trying to find the layer where the stoopid random black dot is: “I WILL find you. I MUST…”

HC undoing one stroke a thousand times: “nope” *undos* “nope” *undos* “fuck you” *undos*)

***

Cue HC internally crying every month because “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WITH MY STYLE??” 😭😭

***

HC bent over his desk like shrimp. 🦐

XL insists HC takes breaks, for food and general rest. He massages HC’s neck, shoulders, back, and hands - HC naturally melts back into his beloved’s hands.

HC has a folder on his desktop titled “gege’s masterpieces” which are all of XL’s drawings for HC.

***

SQX: “ohmygod can you draw me!?”

HC: “nu”

HC goes back to drawing portraits of XL.

***

HC watching the piece he spent days drawing get surpassed in likes by a dumb doodle of his pets he did when battling artblock: “make it make sense” 😡

XL: “it’s because you made e’ming and ruoye so cute!” 🥰

***

Imagine HC mindlessly twirling his apple pen between his long fingers, even while he’s pacing around their apartment.

He also tends to play with the cap of the charging plug, resulting in him constantly losing it!! It’s such a tiny, white thing - it could be anywhere…

Somehow, XL magically finds the cap in the most unassuming places and puts it somewhere safe so he can hand it back when HC’s already pulling his hair out.

***

XL hangs his favorite pieces of HC’s artwork around their apartment !!

When guests come over for the first time, they’ll stare at the beautifully framed art pieces in awe.

And XL will proudly say,” oh, this is actually all of San Lang’s work! Isn’t he amazing?” 😊

***

Many people think HC’s signature is a distinct symbol, shape, or even an obscure drawing with a hidden message. In turn, this has caused HUGE debates on Twitter about what the signature actually means.

One popular stan account had successfully gathered clues over the years. After comparing a lot of pics, lives, doodles, etc., they come to the conclusion that the signature is actually a word.

But what exactly does it say?

Still unknown.

And when some indie magazine goes and interviews HC, THEY HAVE TO ASK.

Interviewer: “Crimson Rain, you must tell us, we’re begging, what does your signature mean? It’s been a topic of WAR for years amongst your fans!”

HC: “oh, it’s just my name”

Everyone: ☠️🤡☠️🤡☠️

Interviewer: “would you mind demonstrating for us?”

HC, shrugging: “sure”

HC, messing up the second stroke of his name: “wait no, let me restart”

***

Twitter trending tags:

#WHAT

#THAT’S HIS HAND WRITING???

#IM JARED 19

#CRIMSON RAIN

#HAND WRITING

#THIS WHOLE TIME !?

(2)

***

W/ @no-one-says-hi

[racefortheironthrone]

Hello there, why do you believe Theon owes the North loyalty? Hostages don’t owe their captors anything, no matter how “nice” they’re to the captive. Condemn Theon for murdering children and other war crimes, but attacking the North or taking Winterfell, as a whole? Fuck that noise, that’s not a moral event horizon in and of itself.

Also, imagine being a 10 year old and having to process that you might be beheaded if your Dad decides he doesn’t care about you, all without any emotional support system. No wonder the poor guy has a chip on his shoulder the size of Australia.

It is important, when determining what I actually said, to quote the full text in context rather than pull out a single word. I wrote that, as a “hostage, ward, and foster child” of House Stark, Theon owed a duty to Robb Stark. That multiplicity of identities is important: a ward is part of the household, and they owe service in exchange for protection; a foster child is considered part of the family, to the extent that the “murder “ of Bran and Rickon is deemed kinslaying by Westerosi custom.

And yes, a hostage owes a duty to their captors- that is a vital part of how the hostage system worked in medieval Europe. Specifically, they had a responsibility for their good conduct while a hostage; the system by which hostages were taken or exchanged to end a military conflict only worked if the hostages stayed put rather than trying to escape (because otherwise they were useless as bargaining chips to be traded by their superiors) and if they didn’t offer violence that could restart the conflict.

You might not like it, you may think it barbaric, but that is how a custom designed to reduce bloodshed in a violent time functioned. It put a heavy burden on the young, but the cultural expectations of young nobles were different than our current conceptions of childhood.

[lady-byleth]

What a wild week it's been, and not in a good way

War criminals and a child rapist competing in the Olympics

Somehow Imane Khelif is the biggest scandal instead because morality is dead

Israel finally manages to piss off Iran and Hezbollah enough they started coordinating their attacks because why wouldn't they when Israel not only kills important public figures and civilians like they expect to win a prize?

So anyway, we're like one wrong fart away from the shit hitting the fan

Which is like...exactly what they've been trying to do for almost a year and somehow the West is still surprised

Of course the West is no leaping to Israel's defense from the "big bad Arabs" and hurtling us towards a huge regional conflict AT BEST

Which is also why no one should be surprised there's fascists rioting across England and attacking people of color for existing and yet they don't seem to understand that constantly painting people fleeing war and poverty as evil invaders is both extremely hypocritical and also the best way to get a country with a lot of fascists

The Nato, US and Germany straight up restarting the Cold War because the Boogeyman (Putin) is apparently so close to stealing all of Europe (he is not)

Like seriously, how is stationing long range weaponry in the country with the most incompetent military supposed to deter Putin from doing fucking anything? Germany can't even get it's soldiers working guns, I mean, come on!

And I don't want to act as the new weapons depot for the fucking US of War Boners, don't put that shit in my backyard.

I'm not religious but if any god is listening, we could use a do over real bad right about now

[fancylala4]

Speaking of britney, it annoys me how her worser stans try to restart old wars that ended long ago espcially at Xtina's expense. They say awful things about her weight and solely blame her for Britney's issues. Like do they realise they were young and moved on with their lives? Plus we won. Britney is free, she doesn't need us to defend her maiden honor anymore.

And I dont like how they drag other members of NSYNC (& Jessica Biel) too. Like leave them out of this???? And they try to drag Janet into it to but like, Janet forgave JT and doesnt want her legacy to be defined by that moment. People are so nostalgia starved snd vengeful now, they want to bring back the 200s including everything BAD about it. I fear we're at risk of becoming the New Swifties.

On one hand, I don’t really care that Justin and his wife is getting hate because they are both awful people. It’s not even about what he did to Britney or Janet, he’s just a shitty person to everyone (I will never forget how he got two homeless people to fight each as entertainment at his wedding). On the other hand, I do agree it’s unhinged how her stans bring up what happened between Britney and Justin when that happened over 20 years ago. What Justin did to her and Janet was fucked up but It’s been done and over with. Like you said before, Janet doesn’t hold a grudge against him and said people should move on from it. So why can’t Britney’s stans do the same.

They also do with Christina. Yes, Christina did shade Britney a lot at their peak. But that was so long ago and Christina shows respect to Britney right now. She also didn’t do anything to Britney at this point. Yet, the stans act like it’s 2000s again and go after her for no reason. It’s pathetic. I also think it had something to do with what Britney wrote all those awful stuff about xtina when she was freed. She lashed out at Tina because she didn’t want to answer a question about Britney. Not to mention how she fat shamed xtina and her back up dancers for no reason. Worst of all, Britney didn’t even apologize to her, she just made up some excuses. She also only did it because she’s was getting backlash from everyone. Even her stans were disappointed by that post.

I also think that Britney has some blame in how her stans react. It looks like she’s stuck in the early 2000s/late nineties. She keeps on bringing up bands that aren’t revelent at this time like *NSYNC, uses heavy filters to make herself look like she did during that time and wears outdated clothes. That just leads her stans to go after her rivals during that time.

Also, she’s really nasty to everyone and gets her stans to attack anyone who “wronged” her like victor. She lied about what happened with his security and got her stans to go on victor’s post calling him a woman beater. Even after the police report stated that the security guard didn’t hit her (she hit herself in the face), that he was just keeping Britney from touching victor from behind and the video coming out proving that, she still was lying about it! She didn’t even say that she was wrong or get her stans to stop attacking the poor kid. Don’t get me started on how she gets her stans to attack her own kids.

It really seems like Britney just enables her stans to do this unhinged nonsense to everyone like Taylor does. They aren’t the new swifties or becoming like them, britney stans are exactly like them.

[crimsonblackrose]

.

The pit is full of so many different types of snakes. Like it's not just 'cobras'. Which makes you wonder why he named his dojo cobra kai. (Also half of these snakes look like pet snakes) One even falls off the edge and lands on the others.

Johnny's turn to kick open a door. And his second time finding someone whose being a dick to him training his son.

Kreese "what took you so long" assuming Johnny's coming back. Not pissed because he's probably not aware that his students broke in and attacked people at the LaRusso home.

Three generations of Cobra Kai. Kreese literally thinks he's a grandpa.

Kreese's second: This is your last chance Johnny, really.

Robby saying: Listen to him dad not knowing what's going on

This is literally what Kreese tried on Miguel. To tell him that Johnny was just a little lost and together they'd help him.

Robby: Why are my dad's always fighting?

Also to Robby it totally looks like Johnny just came in here and starting beating up an old war veteran. Robby has 0 context and this is the only guy who has ever said anything positive about Johnny, so he's probably so lost and confused and upset. I mean sometimes Daniel would say something but he nearly always changed his tune.

Confirmation that Kreese has nunchucks on the walls. Johnny grabs a single Sai.

Because of Robby's don't do it, Johnny drops the sai.

I feel like Johnny should've tried to warn Robby, after Kreese started mentioning how messed up it was that Robby was studying under Daniel. Like Robby knew about Daniel but nothing about Kreese.

This is pretty much what William Zabka's character Scott McCall says to his father in the Equalizer, which has got to be weird being on the receiving end of similar lines.

Sensei Kreese is right. I can't be my own worst enemy. But you can be.

Robby literally decides to fight Johnny and Johnny is pretty much just block and telling him to stop it. But Robby's had it so rough and is so confused and doesn't know the context other than every time he finds a home and a new father figure his old father figure shows up and tries to fight his adopted one.

Johnny's making this look easy. Literally just lifting up his foot and stepping out of the way. "I won't fight you"

Robby calls Johnny weak and Johnny looks so tired.

Who put those metal lockers there? It's as bad as the damn rock. That was a total accident. Adding it to the list of accidents that caused the absolute worst results. Robby even makes a soft little cry/sob when he hits it.

Johnny immediately rushes to his side trying to get his attention and apologizing.

I think Johnny's internal count down of "I didn't fuck up" had been growing and he'd been so proud because of what Ali said and it literally just restarted at 0.

The captain says Kreese couldn't shed his humanity and it distracted him from the war. I feel like what they're trying to do with this is Kreese accidentally killed a fellow soldier, had to kill his captain and he's been trying to make up for it ever since by trying to instill that cold the world is war mindset of his captain because he failed once. And he'll never do that again.

He grabs a piece of bamboo from the bridge he's on and stabs his captain in the leg with it. His captain ends up holding onto the edge of the bridge after a few punches and kicks.

Kreese in present day grabs a sai, pulls Johnny away from Robby who has a bit of blood on his forehead but for a headwound not much blood and just seems to be unconscious.

Kreese stomps on his captains feet after they've been saved, dropping him into the snake bit to be killed by the fall and the snakes.

Johnny kicks the sai out of Kreese's hand but Kreese gets Johnny in a headlock again.

Daniel kicks Kreese off of Johnny. "You sent them to my house? You came after my daughter?"

I hate to say this but I don't know if Kreese actually sent them to Daniel's house, or how they would've known they were all there. As much as I love Daniel kicking Kreese's ass and saving Johnny.

Daniel spotting Robby knocked out in the corner.

You can't keep up this defense only shit forever. | Good thing I don't have to.

YESSSSSSS

LOL Kreese just picking Daniel up and running through the frosted front glass windows.

Like Kreese why would you destroy your own windows?

Also this means Kreese is barefoot on the cement surrounded by glass.

It's raining again, it rained when they went to try and pick up Robby from juvie.

Daniel kicking Kreese's ass, seeing Johnny, looking surprised and Johnny nodding to him. Like yes, go ahead and take him out.

Cockblocked from murder by their kids take 2 this time Miguel and Sam.

Daniel in white, Johnny in black. Keep your cobra kai's away from our kids.

Miguel checking in on Johnny and asking if he's okay. 🥺

Even though I'm pretty sure Johnny's covered in the least amount of blood.

Robby directs his get out of her initially at Daniel even though Daniel wasn't there when he got knocked out. and the all of you at literally everyone else.

Really Robby's got some thick skin, his forehead gash should be much worse, that's like a scratch. And he was just knocked out a little longer than his father.

Kreese literally saying Son to Robby while staring Johnny down.

Kreese releases all the prisoners and they all run for freedom except for Silver who stops and hugs him.

You think Kreese has ever hugged anyone other than Silver since Betsy died?

I owe you man. You saved my ass. Anything you need...I'm there for you. Your whole life. You hear me Johnny? Your whole life! I owe you (unbeknownst the messy bff break up coming up in a few seasons 🤣)

Side note, do you think Silver grew out his hair and kept it in a ponytail out of guilt for their other friend who died?

Another hug after that declaration

He's smiling when he says this, which makes it sound like Silver answered but when we see Silver he's ignoring his calls and dramatically playing piano in a fancy robe.

oh i forgot they ended the season with the merge

Also this is Daniel's first time wearing his hachimaki from Mr. Miyagi in the series.

Wait a second

Aren't the two tall guys in the shade Cobra Kai's? Where's your other fighters? Though I see the shorter red is back. There he is

He was hiding behind Sm, the kid who took a vase to the head and tried to save her from Tory or slow Tory down.

Literally all the students are happy and smiling as the Eagle Fangs join them in the worst dojo yard ever, finding their ways next to their friends.

Mitch eventually re-betraying Chris kinda makes this hurt.

This season finale was so satisfying. Because Johnny and Daniel working together, realizing they needed to work together, that they had more in common then differences, and merging their dojo's was like what it'd been building up towards.

I still love it. Even though I know they become dumbasses again as soon as the next season starts.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

as if it might turn out this time

So I'm on my gf mandated Tom Cruise Cruise and guess which film jumped out and grabbed me by the throat! So enjoy this Edge of Tomorrow icemav au, made possible with enormous thanks to my lovely @hangsters!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

---------

Sergeant Tom Kazansky is a battle hardened solider known as the Iceman, he's killed hundreds of mimics across multiple time loops, he's the freaking Angel of Verdun.

But he's never come across someone like Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell.

Because this time, Maverick's the one in control. He's the one in the loop, he knows whats coming.

At least until something takes them both by surprise.

--------

Apparently they had two hours. That’s what Maverick said anyway. Even though IIce had never seen a still moment in this war since it began, that’s what Maverick said. 

And he’d followed him this far. 

‘This far’ was the decaying corpse of the Lyon countryside, it was a hastily abandoned farmhouse in the middle of the overgrown fields and cracked, scarred roads. And if Maverick was telling the truth, Ice had followed him even further than this, thousands of miles across the same day played out fuck knew how many times. More versions of himself than it was comfortable to think about, getting reset over and over whenever the guy pulling them through it all couldn’t go any further. Time itself apparently stopping and restarting with Maverick’s heart.

It would be impossible to believe if Ice hadn’t done it himself. 

 “You don’t need to stand guard. I told you, we’re good for two hours.”

Ice looked over his shoulder, into the converted farmhouse where Maverick was getting embers going in the fireplace. The frenetic energy they’d rolled here on, the sidestepping obstacles like they were doing some kind of complicated dance, the one-two-three-one-two-three-one that got them off that beach and it’s slice of hell, it had stilled for now. They had two hours, like Maverick said, and he was filling a kettle, for crying out loud, so he was either correct or insane. Depending on how many resets he’d been through, it could well be both. 

“Walk me through it one more time,” Ice said with a poor attempt at patience, “If we have two hours why aren’t we just taking that helicopter and heading for the dam right now? Why aren’t we using every second to get to the omega, kill it and save the whole of humanity?”

Maverick didn’t respond to the snap in Ice’s tone, just setting the kettle on the hook above the low fire and then heading back to the kitchenette, to the cabinet where he already knew the mugs would be. Movements practiced and precise, exactly like a soldier. Odd, when Ice had clocked Major Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell as a showpony, as a recruitment tool, the moment he saw him on television screens flashing those white teeth and giving polished, repainted updates on the invasion. Clearly whatever he’d been through since getting stuck in the loop had taken that poster boy and turned him into something else. At least he still had the nice smile. 

“We can’t do that because the moment you go outside and start up that helicopter, a mimic bursts out of that south field and attacks. Same for if you try and start siphoning the gas into the truck,” Maverick recounted it all as he busied himself, pulling a spoon out of a drawer, “And this happens whether you do it right now or whether you sneak out at any point in the next two hours, thinking I’m not looking.”

Ice had the same uncomfortable sensation he felt when he looked at his own x-rays, a feeling like someone had seen something they weren’t meant to. He set his jaw and loped to one of the chairs, sinking into it like he was trying to prove he could relax. He was rewarded with a cloud of dust and a shooting pain through his hip. 

“The other one’s more comfortable,” Maverick called, perfectly on beat, “It’s better for your leg.”

“For my leg?” Ice shot back, the pain making his voice sharper than he meant, turning the surprise into a challenge. Maybe because he knew he should have shopped being surprised long before this. 

“You told me about that injury you took in Verdun, the one that never healed right,” again, Maverick didn’t react to the snappishness, making Ice wonder how grumpy he’d been in all of the other runs, “How you don’t tell anyone because they’ll ground you. I can rub your leg down for you, that always helps?”

Ice felt his cheeks flame, ducking his face even though Maverick wasn’t even looking at him. There had been comments like that here and there, ones that had mostly passed Ice by as he’d focused on training, on hitting that beach and surviving each step forward. But now it was occurring to Ice, hours later than anyone normal would have noticed, that he was definitely being flirted with. 

But not even the forward, slightly aggressive way military guys usually flirted with him and then promptly gave up when they realized they may as well have been trying to fuck a glacier. Maverick spoke to him, looked at him, offered things selflessly to him the way you would with someone you’d been married to for decades. Like there was a comfort to having Ice there, like Maverick somehow saw reassurance in the hard, fierce Angel of Verdun. Something no one else had seen, not even Ice himself. 

“So I don’t tell anyone but I told you?” he stared into the low fire, just to give his eyes somewhere to settle. He wasn’t sure why he was pushing back, why he was throwing more roadblocks against this strange kindness, “What other secrets have I told you while we’ve been fighting for our lives, out of interest?”

Maverick actually laughed, bringing two mugs over to where the kettle was now singing out a plume of warm steam, “Let’s see…I know you have a cat, your sister’s looking after her while you’re deployed. I know you played football in college. Linebacker, obviously, look at your shoulders. I know you suck at driving a stick shift. I know you have nightmares. I know you have freckles on your shoulders…I know you’re probably blushing like crazy right now…”

Ice started a little at that one, sinking a little lower in the chair he was still insisting on sitting on. 

“And,” Maverick turned, holding two mugs that he seemed to have magicked out of thin air, “I know you miss coffee like crazy. So here. Black, two sugars, right?”

He held one out to Ice, grinning at the expression on his face as he took it. Ice didn’t need to say anything, Maverick  was right, of course. Maverick had been right about everything and would be, until whatever misstep got him killed and reset the clock. Or until they saved the world. 

“Seems like all the previous versions of me were pretty chatty,” Ice hummed into his mug though his eyes didn’t leave the strange partner the universe had given him.

Maverick perched on the small side table right next to Ice’s chair rather than taking the other one for himself. Probably just to be closer to the fire, the thin under armor they were wearing was designed to have eighty five pounds of metal exoskeleton around it so it didn't keep much heat in. Especially when they were torn, bloodstained and somehow still drying from their brief dip in the Normandy sea.

“Chatty? Fuck no,” he chuckled, folding one leg under himself, proving again that this wasn’t a man used to standing to attention, “I’ve just gotten good at listening to you.”

Ice glanced away from Maverick at that, like he’d suddenly become a source of light too bright to look at without pain. He looked into his mug instead, trying to focus on the swirls of steam leaving his mug. Trying to enjoy a moment of quiet when life had been so chaotic and frantic for the last year. 

Maverick didn’t seem to mind the lack of an answer or maybe he found his answer elsewhere, in some silent way. He’d drained half his mug already, probably scalded his tongue in the process and set it aside to lean closer. 

“Let me see,” he prompted gently. 

Ice felt like he’d blushed more in the last twenty minutes than he had his whole life, “Excuse me?”

Maverick’s smile turned up at the edge and he pointed towards Ice’s shoulder, “Let me see.”

Ice opened his mouth to protest before snapping it shut again, sighing. What good was a lifetime’s worth of carefully cultivated stubbornness against a man that had all the time in the world. He shifted gingerly, setting his mug down next to Maverick’s to pull off his shirt, wincing as sweat and semi dried blood clung on stubbornly. After a moment, he felt a second set of hands helping, the pain easing as Maverick’s warmer skin brushed his own. 

“It’s not that bad,” he mumbled a little sourly, like a small child trying to defend himself after doing something he shouldn’t have, “Looks worse than it is.”

Mav’s eyebrow raised, “Oh yeah, sure…”

Ice wasn't strictly lying, he’d had far worse injuries than the puncture wound just a little ways in from where his left arm met his shoulder. A piece of flying debris had caught him just before they’d cleared the drop site, in one of the few places where the mech suits had to sacrifice coverage for movement. It had been a brief burning sensation, a dull pain and then quickly forgotten in the adrenaline, following Maverick like a beacon through the slice of hell that had opened up back on that beach. 

“You never get moving as quickly as I tell you to after we land,” Maverick tsked fondly, gently studying the wound with its layers of cracked, drying blood and fingers of fast rising bruise snaking out from it all the way along Ice’s clavicle. 

“Can’t break the habit I guess,” Ice grunted at the press of his fingers, as careful as he was trying to be, “I’m the squad leader. I’m supposed to wait until everyone else has dropped.”

Saying that made a sudden, sharp grief rise in his chest, a fresh layer to the pain. The thought of the men he’d left behind back on that beach, the ones he was supposed to lead and protect. If this run was the one, if they saved the world, those men, the closest thing he’d had to friends would stay dead. 

Thinking of Slider was the hardest. Slider, with his booming voice and bad jokes and comforting presence at Ice’s right shoulder. Slider with his wife serving as a volunteer field nurse, his twin baby daughters at home. They’d been together since basic training, he’d been the one Ice had tried to explain Verdun to, run after run, until Ice realized it was safer if he didn’t know. If Ice just focused on winning that battle and protecting his friend. He’d managed it back then but there had always been that cold, uncomfortable knowledge that there would be one time where Ice wouldn’t be able to save Slider. 

Knowing about it in advance didn’t make living it any easier. 

Maverick must have seen the shift in Ice’s face, he took his other shoulder in a comforting grip, “Hey. I’m sorry.”

Ice looked up at him, at the sincerity in his face, the understanding. Knowing what someone was going through and wishing you could have saved them from it. 

“I know,” Ice swallowed hard, “Who’d you lose?”

Maverick tilted his head slightly, his smile growing softly pained, “You.” 

He left Ice with that, getting the rest of the water from the kettle, taking it back to the kitchen. He came back with a chipped bowl, white cloth, bandages that must have been tucked under the sink. 

“Sorry if this hurts,” Maverick hummed, aiming for his usual light tone, “We didn’t have time to cover field medicine in training, mostly just how to not get my head chopped off by a mimic and how to turn the safety off my suit.”

“Fuck,” Ice laughed shortly, leaning back so Maverick could start gently cleaning off the wound, “You were really that bad?”

“Worse than you’re imagining,” he gave him that smile Ice had seen on so many TV screens, selling the United Defence Force, like he’d just pulled it out of a hat, “I can look real pretty on an enlistment ad though.” 

Ice laughed, “I’ll give you that one…would have worked on me…”

“Oh?” Maverick’s face softened into a more natural, more pure smile, like those words had been enough to delight him. 

“Well…yeah,” Ice shrugged with the one shoulder Mav wasn’t cleaning out, “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say anything,” Mav grinned, the bowl of water now the color of rust, switching to the roll of bandages, “Drink your coffee, Sergeant.”

Ice did. Maverick was right, he had missed it like crazy. He could almost forget about the low thrum of pain in his shoulder, the empty stomach sickness left behind by fleeing adrenaline, the raw, frayed edges of his nerves, some of which were still calling for this stillness they’d found to erupt in screams and bangs and chaos, just to get it over with. Ice pushed that instinct away, got it to fade into static along with the hurt. If Maverick said they had two hours, they had two hours. He was the one person on this planet even Tom “Iceman” Kazansky couldn’t find reason to doubt. 

“Y’know, I’m kind of jealous,” he observed lightly, mouth seeming to have detached itself from his brain and running off by itself, “Of you still having the power, I mean.” 

“Yeah, you've said that before,” Mav chuckled, finally happy with how he’d tied the bandages and sitting back. His gaze flickered to Ice, like he knew what he was going to say but was letting him say it anyway. 

“I know it’s because I’m a control freak,” Ice hummed, tapping his fingers against the chipped tin of the mug, “Saving the entire world was just on my shoulders, I had all the time in the world and I didnt have to worry about anyone else fucking it up. It was all up to me.”

“Yeah,” Maverick tilted his head, “Up to you to die over and over. Sacrifice yourself until an ancient hive mind alien had to change its plans because you were so damn stubborn.”

Ice looked at Maverick steadily, for once not letting himself be afraid to really study the other man’s face. There was a lot there that was familiar, the general air of resignation, the bags under the eyes, the ease of invincibility. Back when Ice had picked up the reset back in the very first battle of Verdun- the only battle anyone else ever saw- he’d felt completely alone. He’d felt like an alien himself, like in amongst it all he’d forgotten how to be human, even after a blood transfusion had unknowingly tethered him back to time. He’d told himself it didn’t matter, he was a soldier, a damn near perfect one, and that’s all he had to be.

But he’d never imagined that one day he’d look into someone else’s face and see that same feeling. That maybe they’re was more he could do for Mav than teach him to be faster, stronger, how to use the weapons in his hands and send him into the breach. That maybe he might actually be able to help someone, to be the steady, calming voice he’d never had to say it’s going to be okay, you’re still you. 

“We’ve got two hours, right?” Ice murmured, aware that he’d been lost in thought for a long moment. 

“One hour and twenty,” Maverick corrected gently, though there was a soft hope in his dark eyes, “Close enough.”

It would do. If there was anything this war had taught Ice, it was how to make the most of every second. 

Maverick’s lips were already waiting for Ice’s but there was something comforting about this particular inevitability, the idea that the soft, sweet things were as predetermined as the bad, even if they didn’t stick around as long. The kiss opened up into something deeper, Ice’s more mobile hand coming up to grasp the back of Maverick’s shirt, Maverick himself cradling Ice’s face like he was trying to hold him in place, hold him in this moment. It was messy, rushed, like two teenagers in the back of a car, like both of them were sure they’d be yanked apart at any moment and had to fill every second with each other. 

All thoughts of the invasion, the rest of the human race, what was possible and what was impossible, it all faded into a meaningless dial tone in the back of Ice’s mind as Maverick came in to straddle his lap. Even breathing became a secondary concern against Maverick’s tongue brushing against his own, his thumbs brushing across his cheekbones, that heartbeat thumping against his own. Ice was left gasping, snatching lungfuls of air in the spare seconds before he willingly sank back into this quiet bliss.

Maverick drew back to yank off his shirt, dog tags rattling. To his surprise, Ice found himself shaking for the first time in nearly a year, like fucking another man was terrifying when a beach full of horror wasn’t. But Maverick caught his hands, pressing kisses to the scarred knuckles, soothing those tremors. Like there was nothing shameful about it.

“Have we done this before?” Ice breathed, voice shaking slightly, like it was struggling to contain all this hunger. 

He wasn’t sure why he asked, why he was wasting time when he could be testing the limits of his repaired shoulder. Maybe he wanted to reassure himself, confirm that this was all part of the plan. That there had been other versions of himself who’d been allowed this brief selfishness. 

And that there would be others after. 

Maverick flashed him a grin, breathless excitement alight on his face, “Kind of…”

“Kind of?” Ice half laughed, voice strained by a poorly held back moan as Maverick rose up enough that he could draw his trousers down. 

Underneath he wasn’t strong but lithe, tightly wired muscle, skin softer than Ice thought possible when he took hold of his hips. He had freckles scattered across his stomach, scars that Ice immediately wanted to know the story behind, a light dusting of dark hair leading down from his navel. He drank every detail in with uncharacteristic greed as his hands slid down to press daringly against the hardness in his boxers. 

“Here’s the thing…” Maverick rolled against that pressure, eyes dark as his pupils swelled, “I’ve been doing the same day over and over for fuck knows how long now. And also much of it is identical, I know exactly what's coming down to every minute…”

The boxers were gone too now, just burning skin against his hand. Things were coming loose, unraveling at the edges but every word of Maverick’s ran right to his heart. 

“But you, Tom Kazansky, no matter how many times I do this…” Maverick moved back so close until they were nose to nose, forehead to forehead, “You never stop surprising me.”

Ice was aware of Maverick’s heartbeat before he was aware of his own.

The other man was burrowed against Ice’s chest like he wanted to live inside his rib cage, his thumping heartbeat a thread that he followed back up into the waking world. It came slow and sluggish, Ice’s body reluctant to stumble out of the first decent sleep he’d had in a long time. Consciousness came in other pieces of Maverick, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. His dark hair ticking Ice’s jaw, his fingers gently resting on his hip, his steady breath across Ice’s collarbone, the skin of his back warmed by the fire, now down to less than embers. 

Ice frowned. If the fire was dead, where was that orange light coming from?

The answer brought a shock like cold water. Outside the window, the sun was setting. 

“Fuck,” Ice bolted upright, giving Maverick a much less gentle awakening as he was nearly tipped onto the floor. 

“What?” he mumbled groggily, trying to still cling to Ice on instinct. 

“We’ve slept too long,” Ice shook his head, scrambling up, reaching for his clothes, “It’s been way more than two hours. Fuck…”

Maverick somehow looked smaller, left in the chair on his own, like some piece of him had left with Ice. The guilt boiling hot in his chest jerked and twisted into sudden anger, why wasn’t he moving, why was he just sitting there, didn’t he know they had a mission to complete?

“Where are the keys to that helicopter?” he demanded, words quick and bitten off like he didn’t even have time for them. 

Mav sat up, wincing a little, “Tom, listen-”

“No,” Ice shook his head firmly, “No, we had our fun but we’re wasting time now, we need to get back to the mission. It’s still going to take us hours to fly to Switzerland and get to the dam. I know you know where the keys are, Maverick, we’ve done this before so tell me and let's go.”

Maverick flinched a little, biting down on his lower lip. He moved for his clothes too, but slower, more gingerly, making Ice want to scream. 

“Look, I’ll tell you where the keys are but you’re going to hear me out first,” Maverick set his jaw desperately, yanking his shirt over his head, “I’ll go. I’ll go to the dam, I’ll wrap this up but you stay here, okay?”

Ice froze in the middle of tying his boots, staring at him in confusion, “Excuse me?”

Maverick had a look on his face like a man standing before a losing battle. Surely something he was familiar with by now. 

“Please, Tom,” he kept using that name, that name Ice didn’t know how to connect to himself anymore, “I…I don’t know how to explain it so you’ll see, can you just trust me? You need to stay here, you can’t go to Switzerland.” 

“What the hell are you talking about, soldier?” Ice narrowed his eyes, aware that there was something he wasn’t quite seeing, something on the edge of his vision that was rushing towards him. 

For the first time since he’d known him, or at least since this version of him had known him, Maverick looked uncertain. More than that, he looked terrified. So much of Ice wanted to take him back in his arms, comfort him and promise him that everything was going to be okay even though he had no idea. But that was exactly the problem. 

So Ice dragged that part of him back into the guilt and the shame and the anger, and focused instead on the fact that Maverick’s eyes kept flickering back to the kitchen. 

He’d said Ice kept surprising him and he proved it now, getting ahead of him, too quick for the hands that tried to reach for his shoulders. Sure enough, there was a set of keys hanging there on the wall, alongside empty hooks that were probably meant to hold the car keys the family that owned the farmhouse escaped with. Ice grabbed them, felt them bite into his tightly closed fists as he marched out of the back door, trying to deafen himself to Maverick’s pleading even as he felt it break his heart. 

“Tom! Tom, for God’s sake, can you stop being the world’s most stubborn bastard for five seconds and look at me!”

Ice turned sharply, trying to imagine his mech suit around him, trying to imagine that he was strong, that nothing could reach him, “Fine. I’m looking at you. Now explain to me why I can’t get in that helicopter and do my goddamn duty.”

Maverick gripped his shoulder, like that alone would be enough to pin Ice down, “Because if you do, you die.” 

His voice actually broke as he said it, like out of all the death he must have seen, others and his own, this was the one he couldn’t take. 

“I’ve tried every single way I can think of, I’ve done everything I can but it never works,” the exhaustion was now obvious on Maverick’s face as he spoke, like Ice could finally see the mark that each run had left on him, “If you get in that helicopter, if you take one more step past this point, you die and I can’t stop it. I’ve reset over and over but every time-”

“Wait,” Ice’s voice was strained and slight, brittle with shock but it stopped Maverick all the same, “You…have you been resetting just because I died?”

Maverick bit his lower lip again, his chest rising, like words were building but he was scared to let them go. It was all the answer Ice needed. 

“Mav…” he swallowed hard, feeling a weight pressing down on his chest, “It’s the whole world at stake here. It’s the whole goddamn world.”

“I know…” Maverick met his eyes, helpless, “But it’s you.”

For the first time, Ice realized that while he’d been broken, burned, crushed repeatedly every time he’d thrown himself at the battle of Verdun, there was a deeper hurt to these endless repeating loops. One he hadn’t ever had to feel because he’d never let himself but Maverick was braver than that. Ice couldn’t even imagine the pain of it, of coming to love him, to know him so deeply, run after run. And to look into each fresh set of Ice’s eyes and know he didn’t feel the same because he just didn’t know Maverick.

“Pete…” Ice tried to steady himself, not even sure what he was about to say. 

But it didn’t matter. Their time was up. 

That sound, that painful inorganic chattering that they knew too well, ripping the still air in two. Ice snapped to attention, turned, put himself between Maverick and the gaining mimics but he was reaching for guns that weren’t there. They’d had their two hours, they’d overstayed their welcome and now they were cornered, their punishment bursting from the ground and rushing towards them. 

“Helicopter!” Mav yelled by Ice’s ear and he obeyed, rushing forward but the mimics were faster, their writhing black forms like glitches in nature itself rising over the roof, skittering over the fence, swarming. 

Ice knew the taste of a doomed run. He knew how this ended. 

But still, in spite of it all, he turned, went backwards rather than forwards, shoved hard. Maverick went stumbling back into the facsimile of safety inside the farmhouse, Ice on his heels, the door slamming shut with death on the other side. It wouldn’t hold for long but Ice didn’t need long. 

As the mimics screamed outside and beat on the walls, he took Maverick’s face in his hands and kissed him, trying to find that peace again. He tasted tears on the other man’s lips, felt his arms shake as they wrapped around him but it was close enough. 

“Listen,” Ice panted, pulling away enough to speak, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Pete but if it comes down to me or the world, you need to choose them. I’m not worth it.”

Maverick’s breath caught as he shook his head, “I wish I didn’t know you.”

“I know,” Ice swallowed hard. Glass broke in the kitchen, they’d found their way inside. They had moments, seconds. 

“I wish I didn’t know you,” Maverick gasped again, “But I do. I know you, Tom.”

Ice didn’t have time to try and figure out what that meant, if the stubborn man in his arms was going to listen or not. It didn’t matter, not to this version of him anyway.

Ice just tried to be glad that this time, he wasn’t alone when he died. 

Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

Ice counted his pushups steadily in his head as he rose up and down. If he counted, he wasn’t thinking about the throb of pain in his arms. If he counted, he was apart from the air of tension about the military base, the taste of fear in the air as the next morning’s attack crept closer. It was all uneasy jokes, too loud laughter, brittle smiles. It would all turn to screams by tomorrow as soon as they hit that beach.

Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. 

He’d been training by himself in the hangar all afternoon, excusing himself from the drills the fresh meat were doing. No one said anything, they never did. No one was about to try and pull rank on the Angel of Verdun, they just studied him the way they always did, a little apprehensively, like they were trying to learn the secret to survival in the few seconds as he strode past them. The thought had just enough grim humor to it to curl the edges of his mouth into a smile. 

Eighteen. Nineteen…twenty…twenty one…

Footsteps. Ringing out loudly across the metal floor of the hangar where he trained, interrupting his rhythm. Ice turned, teeth already bared in frustration. 

“Yes?” he rose to his feet, ready to unleash his irritation. 

It took him a moment to place Captain ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, he’d never seen him in the flesh, only projected up on a screen, leaning back in a TV studio with that inherently punchable grin and wearing his uniform like a costume. Well, it didn’t seem as though the United Defence Force’s poster boy was doing so well, walking up to him a little too fast with a shell shocked expression and a rumbled uniform that looked very obviously naked, stripped of its insignias. Maybe not Captain, then. Private. Which meant Ice didn’t have to put up with any bullshit. 

“Who let you in here?” he bristled, hoping the guy would just turn and go running. 

But this Maverick didn’t even slow, just walking right up to Ice, far closer than he was comfortable with. Until he stopped, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, the strangest expression on his face, like he’d been following the steps of a dance and the music had just cut out. 

“Well?” Ice stepped back, unnerved. What the hell was wrong with this guy?

“Sargeant Kazansky…” Maverick began but trailed off, brow furrowing a little. 

“You’ve found him,” Ice tilted his head, something oddly familiar about the look on his face. 

But Maverick just shook his head, a decision clear on his face, “Sorry. Never mind. Didn’t mean to bother you, Sergeant.”

And he left Ice with that, turning on his heel and walking out. Ice was seized by the sudden desire to call out, get him to stop, grab his shoulder and make him explain, the oddest sensation like the train he needed was pulling away from the station without him on it. But Maverick was gone before he could decide whether or not to follow that mad impulse, disappearing into the square of daylight at the mouth of the hangar. 

Ice exhaled softly, the irritation burned away but nothing to fill the space it had occupied in his chest. He told himself to let go of it, making himself shrug and sink back down to the floor. Whatever was wrong with Maverick, he didn’t have the time to deal with it. Tomorrow was on its way, whether they liked it or not and every second was going to count. 

No one knew that better than Ice. 

[mdhwrites]

The Commander in GoV: Nikke is INFURIATING

Because one step in either direction he could have gone and he'd either be good or INCREDIBLE. Instead, this potential makes his actions, bare minimum early on, characterize him as being the dumbest motherfucker in the military. Our heart may have been restarted but our brain did not come with us from our near death experience.

Which, ironically enough, is one of the ways to fix him: Amnesia. To get into that though, a second of context. In the story, we are first found literally one day after we graduated from the military academy with high enough marks to be allowed to lead and command what are presumably somewhat expensive weapons of wars: Nikkes. Early lore bits do make it clear humanity is desperate (which has... ISSUES) for recruits so we probably didn't need to earn top marks but we are very firmly a member of this world. We are someone who was literally taught all about the conflict we are participating in.

And yet, we know literally nothing. That isn't really an exaggeration. Chain of Command? what's that? How Nikkes function? Nope. Industrial leaders for the end of civilization? Why would we even consider such things as a ranking military officer!? And the literal basics of decorum and respect that says not to accuse literally everyone you meet in a position of power of some amount of treason? Throw that out the window too for good measure.

None of this is exaggeration btw. We meet a CEO of the three big companies still around? Ask them if they know anything about sabotaged Nikkes, in a way that from their response makes it clear we mean it as an accusation. Meet our superior commander, potentially the commander of all armed forces? Ask them if they know about sabotaged Nikkes in the same way. Even after being explicitly told how powerful these people are, that opposing them could get us ALL killed, the game acts like you straight up try to choke out one of these CEOs until pain finally makes you pass out.

Why would ANYONE in this setting do these things? Let alone need basic things like "This person runs this corporation," explained to them in what is a struggling but high tech state of humanity? Let alone, one who was specifically prepared for MILITARY SERVICE where the chain of command is everything?

If you make them an amnesiac though, problem solved. They have such a big heart that without the knowledge and conditioning, their kind nature overrides everything, even common sense or blatant warnings. It wouldn't be great but it still leans into us being different by being kind to Nikkes (something I'll get more into in a moment) and being an example of what humanity could be like working side by side with Nikkes instead of just coming across like our character is too stupid to function.

BUT. There's a better option.

See, the Commander in Nikke actually has an incredibly smart quirk which especially resonates to me as someone who has touch as a love language. See, despite Nikkes being machines, he actually likes to bandage them when they're hurt. It's one of those basic acts of humanity that's just touching and really highlights in a physical way, outside of the fact that we're turned on by them, what makes us different. We cherish their lives while others treat them merely as tools.

So do you want to know how to make that a knockout character who does these stupid things? Acknowledge that he IS a part of this world. That he does know all the rules, all the decorum, all the status various people have and that he doesn't give a SINGLE fuck. He is a firebrand, promoted to commander due to the sheer desperation of humanity's state in this apocalyptic situation. That he was skilled and good enough to get here but now that he is there, upper chain of command wants him broken, thus the weirdness of "These people beat 1/4 odds! He's survived two missions when 90% of Commanders don't! Let's just try to murder him indirectly as hard as possible!" I'm sorry, that seems pretty dumb... Unless we've actively pissed people off politically but that's not the case here as they already essentially stated they wanted us dead BEFORE we ever talked to anyone other than a Nikke.

It also just makes his actions with the Nikke better and more meaningful. Instead of feeling like a naive child who is too dumb to recognize the difference between flesh and machine, these are active decisions on his part. Him putting a bandage on one can be a way to admit that yes, he can't help them beyond his commands but this makes him be able to feel a little bit more like he can and also gives the girls a reminder that he is looking out for them, not just the other way around. This isn't even a case where I want characterization on a blank slate character. You have NO choice in how your commander actually behaves besides some honestly just bad response options that are really rare and ONLY with the Nikkes. All of this to do with him being pro-Nikke rights, seeing them as people, rejecting and confronting command? That is ALREADY your character. So why not lean a bit more into it to make the writing a bit sharper?

Instead, I'm left in this No Man's Land where I'm being told this is me and I'm doing good things but instead of doing those because I have a good heart or because I have firm beliefs, it either is because I'm as naive as a child or because I'm horny. He's just straight too stupid by literally knowing nothing to actually have meaning behind his actions but by not reducing him to just his base nature like with amnesia, he can't have his actions come off as purely good either. He still needs a motivation of some sort and we have none.

It is an uncanny valley of writing and it makes what could genuinely have been compelling instead just grinding on my brain like a sander as I try to find something in this that I wasn't experiencing five years ago but with better production value. Something that makes the fact that even when you are actively participating in the combat, you are still only 70% in control of what is happening, MAX. To make up for the fact that while these characters have skills and passives, nothing has made it feel like anything but bigger number matters besides the fact that not having a sniper makes small portions of a fight take longer. Yes, that's because I'm early only in the third chapter of the story but Star Rail was smart enough to quite literally from during its tutorialization go "Hey, there is actual strategy that matters here and synergies you can very clearly find." Nikke doesn't have that when I can power level to be literally twice as strong, if not four times as strong, as all the starting content.

A strong, genuinely good main character to slip myself into, or at least genuinely more of a blank slate that doesn't have me question the validity of his backstory all the time, could have helped with those matters. Instead, I'm just left sitting here, listening to exposition like I'm a fish out of water, when I am categorically not.

That makes my character, who is meant to just be me in the grand tradition of this sort of mobile game, braindead. And sorry, I don't like being characterized as that fundamentally stupid.

======+++++======

This experience really has helped me appreciate Star Rail even more with how much it genuinely broke away from a lot of these elements in small ways that snowballed into a genuinely compelling game instead of something that still feels derivative of games put out half a decade ago.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Water Issues

Today was a lot of hyperfocusing past a migraine. Because my brain is weird. But also Aloy Helping Folks.

Okay. Now, with the restart, has this made Jekkata's pathing work properly?

YES! ...Oh, hi, lady.

Wait. So ... there's no water at all now? And you're lying to everyone about it, lady? Really? Well, show me your well.

Oh, hey, pipes.

SHUT UP, LADY; I AM A SEEKER. Got the face paint and everything. Now let's go see where this pipe goes.

Oop. Machines. Let's sneak past those so we don't get too far waylaid.

Hey, look! Water! YES, I can tell that from damp sand; shut up, Yarra.

Oh, good. We have actual proof that I know what the fuck I'm doing.

Ah. Can't sneak past these machines. Soooo ... weak spots. Weak spots. Weeeeeeeak ... spots.

"A quiet kill. Good." Thanks for the validation, Yarra, but you're still annoying as fuck.

Why are you so pissed off at Drakka just because one of his men died trying to find more water? Are you that invested in being the sole source of water for your tribe? What the fuck, lady?

"He SABOTAGED--" Yarra. Shut up. He obviously didn't know what he was doing. You didn't even know this was here or what it was, and the only reason you know it's connected to your Wound now is because I told you so! Could you stop being paranoid for five minutes?

Right. Have to do this in order and speedily. Ugh.

Nope.

Noooooope.

Third tiiiiiiiiiiime ... IS the charm. Okay, you guys should be more or less back to normal soon--

Waitwut. Yarra, what the fuck is your malfunction?!?

Okay, back to Shattered Spear to make sure this all worked. ...Grab a few campfires first because why not?

And we're back and-- Oh. Hi, Drakka.

So ... you're going to basically divide the tribe in two and fight to the death and that's going to mean the whole bunch of desert Tenakth has a civil war?!? While you have rebels picking you off? Yeah, okay, fine, I will try to talk sense into people.

...I will kill some Spinesnouts first, though, because why not? I'm getting way, way better at hitting them at the weak spot right at the top of their backs near the head. The blast radius when you hit that spot is impressive.

Okay, back to attempts at diplomacy. You're at least listening to me. Can I try to talk some sense into both of you? Drakka ... you have a point, but this might not be the way. Yarra ... you ... are a paranoid freak and I cannot in good conscience side with you. So if I have to choose...

And that's Yarra done. And yeah, kind of wish we hadn't had to kill her, but I figure given Regalla, that's a thing.

Gathering more campfires aaaaaaand-- Ooh. Rebel camp.

Wow. This is some surgical-precision shit I'm pulling off.

FUCK my aim was off melee melee MELEE--

Wait. Did I just actually use one of my melee moves? Really?!? Okay, how did I do that and can I do it again? Y'know what? Don't care. POONK.

Oh, it's these Prometheus thing again. So ... well, they have a lot fewer weapons, a lot fewer people, and are down one prisoner. Not bad for a day's work.

Now, let's go find Runda's stuff-- Wait, I have to ride the Bristleback? Oh well. Let's hope I don't alert anything.

WHY CAN I NOT OVERRIDE THIS ONE? Oh. Because it's Apex. That's why.

THIS one looks promising-- Theeeeeeeere we go.

Site one - machines killed, supplies dug up. Mounting again and ... next!

Site two - second verse, same as the first. And onward tooooo...

Oh. Great. Rebels. LEAVE MY BRISTLEBACK ALONE, REBELS! ANYONE SHOOTS IT, IT'S GOING TO BE ME!

Repair repair repair ... dig dig dig... Okay. Bye, Bristleback!

Firegleam! WOO! Aaaaand more vendor trash. Oh, and a data entry. I can live with that.

What's this question mark? Drone. Climbing climbing climbing... And done. I can drop this off when I go after that third triangulation point later. For now, a couple of campfires and--

Oh. I ... seem to have tripped over main quest stuff. I ... am not ready for that today, but--

OMG THEY HAVE A VARRIC. Also I love these people.

"The most beautiful woman, enticing us towards lobster feasts and beeves and--" OMG YOU'RE WETTING YOURSELF OVER A SURF-N-TURF AD!

"And jack-pots! I ... don't know what those are, but it must be something good--" Laughing so hard right now and I know I shouldn't but gods, this is what they make of holo-ads OMG.

Hey. Abadund. Shush, you. I can help, and I promise I won't let Morlund drown himself. So yes, I will get you the bits you need, and those embers and stuff. But first, drop off Runda's supplies.

Okay, now they won't starve. Good. Now look for the last of Runda's lost stuff. But first, black box-- And it's blocked off by a metal flower. SHIT.

So there's a couple of shelters near the spot I need, but I think if I fast-travel to that rebel outpost I cleared out instead, I can get that last campfire I missed--

I CLEARED THIS PLACE OUT WHY ARE THERE REBELS?!? FUCK OFF, RAVAGERS!

Right. Got the elusive campfire. Aaaaaand ... yeah, need to find what took their shit.

Skywing took their shit. I get to bait it with dead machine again! Hee!

Baiting done. Stealthily following but I honestly know where it's going so not sure why I'm bothering.

Okay. We're at the nest. Bye, Skywings!

Here you go, Runda. At least you're not all going to die out here. Oh, and you want your Rollerback salvage? I'll see what I can do. I hate those uppity AI-driven pillbugs anyway.

Y'know, I honestly don't entirely remember where I left off, partly because the migraine reasserted itself as soon as I stopped playing (or at least that was when I noticed the ow properly), but that covers the salient bits. Saved a bunch of Oseram delvers from starvation and exposure, got the water turned back on, got Paranoid-Lady out of the command seat of the Desert Tenakth, and picked off another major rebel settlement. Also unlocked a lot of campfires, so I can hop around a bit easier. Not bad for someone made of migraine.

Not sure if trying to switch it back on to hyperfocus awhile longer is a good idea. I may find something lower impact for that - at least until the mallet meds kick in a bit more.

Did I mention how much I hate having chronic health issues? Because I hate it.

[eoinmcgonigal]

16: Bill/Johnny

For the prompt from @almost-a-class-act: "I think the… kitchen is haunted?"

Shoutout to this event for keeping me going when I have absolutely nothing else lol

-

It feels like only moments after he’s fallen asleep that Bill is woken up again. He shifts, blinking blearily in the light that’s spilling in from the hallway, silhouetting Johnny’s cautiously moving form.

“Wha’izzit?” he mumbles.

Johnny is creeping towards the bed, something off about his breathing. As Bill tries to sit up, he breathes: “I think the… kitchen is haunted?”

Bill huffs so heavily he almost collapses back down into bed.

“No, seriously!” Johnny insists. “I can hear… sounds…”

“Fuck sakes,” Bill sighs, slipping from beneath the covers. He scruffs his hair out of his eyes as he makes his way round the bed. “Come on.”

Johnny, in spite of all his usual bravery, lets Bill lead the way. “There is definitely something in there,” he breathes in a hushed tone.

“Mhm,” Bill agrees, squinting beneath the lights. He would rather be cosy in bed. This is utter nonsense, but he’ll humour Johnny. It’ll be nothing more than whatever movie Johnny has been watching and an overtired imagination. The kitchen is not haunted.

To prove his point, he flicks the light on when he reaches the kitchen. Behind him, Johnny squeaks and flinches back. Bill wants to say ‘see?’ as he casts his eye around and everything is as it should be.

“Over there,” Johnny says tightly, pointing towards the sink.

Bill crosses over to it, looking. Nothing. He picks up a bowl that was precariously stacked on two others, and has shifted. “This?”

He sets it down again, and it slides, so he leaves it.

“I wasn’t scared by the—”

Johnny freezes. There’s a noise. It’s a groan, something whining and protesting with all its tormented worth.

“There!” Johnny breathes. “That!”

Bill rubs his hand over his eyes, letting out a sigh. “Come here,” he says, walking towards the fridge-freezer.

As if frightened to be separated from him, Johnny follows. He squeaks again when the noise restarts, grabbing at the small of Bill’s back and clinging to a fistful of his top.

Bill opens the door, and the noise stops.

He closes it, and after five seconds it starts again.

“Why is it doing that?” Johnny pleads.

“You seriously didn’t notice it before?” Bill wonders.

“No?! That’s not natural!”

“It’s been like that for months.”

“It… has?”

Bill lets out a breath, ready to go back to bed. “I has, I promise.”

“Oh.”

“No haunted whatevers,” Bill emphasises. “Just a shitty fridge. Did you enjoy your movie?”

“Fuck you,” Johnny says softly, but there’s no venom in it. He is shaking, still clinging to Bill.

“Do you want me to check anything else?” Bill offers.

Johnny hesitates, and then shakes his head. “No, it’s—”

The bowl shifts again, and Johnny yelps.

“Bed?” Bill suggests.

Johnny nods, not letting go. It’s up to Bill to nudge him along, and to turn the light off as they go. So much for a nice early night while Johnny stays up to treat himself to a horror movie, he thinks, trying not to answer the shiver the ripples through him as something at the back of his own mind whispers: But what if…?

War is Helloween

[enbyleighlines]

Leigh plays Tellius prt 26

I love how this game does not shy away from how fucked up some of the people can be. Like this man was seriously intending on stuffing a laguz and giving it to his child. The anti-laguz prejudice in Daein runs so deep, man.

It was around this moment that I realized that I didn't have a meteor tome for Soren to use on Micaiah, and if I wanted to get that conversation, I needed to steal the meteor tome on this map. Unfortunately, getting Heather close enough to the mage to steal the tome before the mage used up all 5 durability of meteor AND without Heather dying proved to be trickier than anticipated. And once I finally managed to get Heather to the mage in time, it turned out her strength wasn't at a high enough level to steal it.

And so I had to restart the map from the beginning, return to the base, and try to get Heather's strength stat up. I only had enough bxp to level her up twice, but she needed 3 more points of strength. So I gave her blossom and finally, finally, got her strength up to 19.

All of that hard work for one meteor tome. Ugh. I really should have remembered to transfer Calill's meteor tome to the Greil Mercs via Neph or Brom, but I guess I wasn't thinking that far ahead.

Oh, well. At least I managed to pull it off.

And we're back with the Dawn Brigade! I am glad that Sothe reacts so strongly here. I do understand where Micaiah is coming from— she can read Pelleas's heart, and knows that his intentions are good. Even knowing that, I can't help but feel frustrated at this part in the story. I'm not blaming Micaiah, but man. The whole situation just sucks.

However, I am judging Micaiah harshly for this line. What the hell, Micaiah? Why would you even say that? You do know that's the exact reason you shouldn't be joining this war, right?

Anyway, I'm going to skip ahead a couple of maps. The fog of war map was long and boring, and the whole time I was just distracted by how nervous I was about the next one. In order to get all the extra content that I want, I have to A. have Soren attack Micaiah, and B. have Ike attack the Black Knight without dying.

And I was right to be nervous, because this chapter was a nightmare. I lost count of how many times I had to redo this map.

Getting Soren to attack Micaiah was the easy part. He has already become a dodge tank, so I wasn't worried about leaving him within the range of the wyvern knights. I just gave him an Elthunder and he easily wiped them all out.

Anyway, I love this conversation. I really wish Soren and Micaiah got to interact more. I also love how Soren starts out cold and indifferent, but the second Micaiah brings Ike into the equation, Soren's temper flares to life. To be fair, I always thought it would be uncomfortable to interact with Micaiah. I love her, but imagine being around someone who can look into your heart and read your thoughts. I feel like it would feel so violating. Especially for Soren, a man who deeply values his privacy.

On the other hand, getting THIS conversation took a lot of trial and error. It wasn't necessarily getting Ike and the Black Knight to interact that was the hard part. It was 1. ensuring Ike's survival, and 2. making sure that no one else entered the Black Knight's range. Twice I made the mistake of leaving someone in the BK's range. Once it was Boyd, and once it was Soren. And the worst part was, I had battle saves that locked me into those situations, so Both Times I was forced to redo the battle from the beginning. Ugh.

However, at long last, I finally managed to make it to the end of this chapter without losing a single unit. Thank Ashera.

And that's it for this part. This was definitely the hardest part of my playthrough thus far, and I think I need a little break to rest and recover. See you all in part 27!

[scimitar-and-longsword]

Lolo plays Call of Duty Modern Warfare (2019) for the first time, part 7! (Final part!!)

(this is an fps. Warnings for war, guns, violence and death. Dead dove etc etc.)

Mission 12: Old Comrades

What does this title mean???

I already said this in the previous post, but Price without a beard is so funny to me 😂

I love that like... Deep sniff??? That price does sometimes. Lol.

I had to restart because a door wouldn't open lol

I died.

Try 2: "I'm tracking you" "how?" "By gunshots of course" 😂 ok Nikolai, I didn't really know anything about you, but I'm feeling it.

I wrote almost nothing. That was so stressful!!

Yeah I opted out of that...

No way I was gonna watch them threaten a kid if I didn't have to.

You tell 'em Kyle. I mean, I get it Price... But also...

Mission 13: Going Dark

Price. You can't just send me in alone! I am a tiny baby! I don't know what the fuck I'm doing!!!and I died.

Try 2: fuck i died again...

Try 3: and again

Try 4: and again

I gotta say, I do love all the little canned responses Price has when he sees you kill someone or when he takes out a light.

Me: uses 10x more ammo than needed to take out a single guy.

Price: good shot.

Me: thanks I'm actually a pro.

Try 5: ok I got a lot further this time. But having to toggle the night vision goggles is really hard lol.. so I got blinded and died.

Try 6: they keep surrounding me!!!!

Try 7:ok I finally got to Hadir!

Why do people I'm playing keep falling off of burning wreckage????

And in Tunnels that are collapsing!!!!

Ok but we got Hadir out.

Mission 14: Into the Furnace

Look at Price's slutty little walk with his arms out lol

Price knew Alex would be with Farah... We all know. 😎

"If barkov there. He's mine." Girl me too!

NICEEEE I'm playing Alex again.

Ok I got very far before dying lol

Try 2: listen I already know how this ends.... So each time I die as Alex I'm just a little sad...

Try 3: holy shit this big dude is impossible to kill!!

Oh no no no 😭😭😭😭

Alex 😭😭😭😭

(do I know that in some way, he comes back in another game.... Yes... But do I know the particulars? No. And I really like Alex... I don't want to watch him die)

"you're a freedom fighter Alex"

"you're a born leader Farah. Say the word."

😭😭😭😭😭

Ok back to Gaz!!

I died twice in rapid succession. So uh...

Try 5: i-

Ok...

Try 6: lol

Oh gosh dang it!!

Try 7: this really is the last level, huh??? Lol

Oh my GOD!

Try 8: I can't even move a STEP.

Try 9:

Farah you clever clever girl!!!!!!

Ah, too quick lol

Try 10: dang it again???

Try 11: So crawling towards Barkov is no... Running toward him is no.... Maybe just wait???

Try 12: ok that didn't work lol

What do I DO???

Oh. I feel stupid now lol

Got em!!

Buh bye Barkov.

Did I... Did I just finish that game??

Oh Alex... He's got a stellar mustache, I'm sad to see it go...

Ohhhhh task force 141 being formed 💕💕💕

Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. There they are!!!

Final thoughts???

I had a lot of fun!

Thank you for indulging me lol

Now I know more about that characters... Still feel like I have to play the second game before I write any fanfic, but hey. I guess I could write some Alex/Farah??? Or Price/Gaz???

[ohsoulymoons]

Duncan brain fart

So uh my zombie apocalypse fanfiction is not going like I want it to :(

My brain wants to torture Duncan again

Mostly kill Courtney too

But like bro :/ that would make no sense uhhh or nothing but like I didn't know what do with them in a sense

Hypothetically speaking if I made Duncan split up two versions of himself like original timeline Duncan of the zombie apocalypse appalled by this more toxic version Duncan of himself who possess his own body and keeps killing the whole world then restarting it every fucking time he doesn't get his way! If original timeline Duncan of the zombie apocalypse just ate himself -well the other version of himself

Would y'all be cool with that!?

Or not!?

Because I feel bad for trying make Duncan to eat his way out his "villains and problems" oh by the way he's not like a "normal" zombie he's like special or whatever

Angst

Oh yeah my unhinged going on the loose polygamous relationship ship for this is:

Courtney/Brody/Brick/Duncan/Scott

In the first is most likely the worst out them!

Spiraling in web of lies to protect their own, war criminal status, blood on them somehow, crazier eyes usually, why try to murder you first then get made you survived then ask questions about it after trying make you feel bad for surviving in the first place, and 5 minutes away trying blow themselves up at any second if their ever caught type of vibes!

More near the last is likely more stable than the others

You wouldn't believe who ate a baby once!

[dbittz]

Mortal Komabt 1 Story/Theme Thoughts (Spoilers)

Mortal Kombat 1 released recently. I haven't played it cause I don't have a PS5, but I want to be apart of it so I've watched gameplay and I know how the story unfolds. I have a lot of thoughts about everything but if there is one thing I want to say/express is that while I love a lot of what happens with this game and the "reboot" aspect of it all, part of me feels that they dropped the ball in a way at the end. I'll try to explain as we go and I think the biggest clue or upset is the tagline and ultimately how the story unfolds.

"It's in our Blood". That is the big tagline for the MK1. What I got from this and what they initially showed is that no matter what changes Liu Kang made to restart the universe and make it better, it wouldn't work. That humans/creatures/characters at their core are violent or that combat is an essential part of life. I see this type of theme or tagline and I'm like "Yes! Let's roll with it." I was really excited to see these Iconic characters in the "perfect" world Liu Kang made when he restarted it at the end of MK 11, only for it to all fall apart because no matter what changes Liu Kang made, each character had a core aspect of their personality that brings them back to the character we know them as. Thus, the cycle/events would repeat themselves.

An example I would love to see this with is Shang Tsung. We know him to be a bad guy. He's always been a bad guy. It would be interesting to see how someone would go about making him not a bad guy. How would they change his life? Would they take his powers away? Give him a good life where he didn't need anything else? How would he fall? How would he become a villain again? Is it circumstance? Or is there a fundamental part of Shang Tsung that will always bring him back to the villain we know? It's in his blood. That is the story I would've loved to follow with him Shang and the rest of the MK characters.

Instead, SPOILERS, the story we get is that, Liu Kang is the villain and he has no one to blame but himself for setting up Shang Tsung and Quan Chi to be bad guys. Why? He made their lives fucking miserable. Sure, I get it. The two fucked up a lot of shit and are responsible for some problems, but instead of trying to fix their lives and make them good, Liu Kang tries to make their lives "mundane". Sure he could've done that, but what did he do? He made Shang Tsung a snake oil salesman who would get beaten up when it's discovered his product doesn't work while we learn from the story that Quan Chi worked in the mines. Heck, Havik was a slave who was treated poorly by the rulers of OrderRealm. Like no wonder he wanted to rebel against the governing class. Given the situations these characters were put in, it's no wonder they jumped at a chance for power, to be who they see themselves as.

Now, you could say this is in line with the theme of "It's in our blood" and I see it. No matter what Liu Kang did to restart the world, it ultimately would be one of conflict, kombat, where people are mistreated, evil returns and good must fight back. We find out that there had been a War in Outworld. Jarrod is dead again, like the guy just can't live happily with his wife and daughter(s). But part of me feels like Liu Kang could've tried a little harder to make the universe a better place before it feel apart.

Maybe I'm just upset they did the multiple timelines things that intersected where all the events unfold because evil Shang Tsung from MK 11 manipulated MK 1 Shang Tsung. Lol. Like, in a way it's cool because it takes in account the multiple endings from MK 11, but it also feels like such a cop out.

Overall, the story for MK 1 is a lot of fun. The new origins for everyone and everything were fun to see and experience. And in a way it was fun to see that despite the changes, these characters are still who they are. That they held on to the core aspects of their character, for better and worse. The new changes were also good, like Baraka actually having a character/personality instead of just being a goon. lol