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delilahsturniolo · 2 months ago

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⟡ ݁₊ welcome to the end of the world! (please leave your sanity at the door.)

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . four friends: nick, matt, chris, and you—find themselves stuck together at the end of the world, trying to survive a zombie apocalypse with nothing but their wits, a questionable supply of snacks, and zero emotional maturity. you’re just trying to stay alive without losing your mind—or falling for someone on the team.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . slighttt violence, some romantic tension, nothing else really.

CHAPTER TWELVE: ROAD SIGNS

read other parts here!

you leave the house before sunrise. the attackers are tied up, unconscious, stripped of their weapons. it doesn’t feel good, but nothing about survival feels good anymore. you just move forward. again. again. and again. matt’s hand finds yours as the group walks down an overgrown road. he doesn’t say anything, he just holds it. tight. like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll disappear. and honestly? part of you is afraid of the same thing.

lana walks ahead, quiet, but not quite as guarded anymore. nick offered her a half-melted protein bar this morning and she smiled for the first time. small win. but you’ll take it. chris is whispering to lieutenant whiskers again, something about the cat needing a tiny tactical vest. “with a little zipper pocket. for snacks. and maybe a knife.”

“please stop arming the cat,” nick groans. “we’re already doomed.” you’re tired. everyone is. not just physically, but soul-tired. the kind that settles behind your eyes and never really leaves. it’s been weeks since all this started. maybe more. time doesn’t feel real anymore.

and then, you see it.

a sign.

safe zone – 12 miles

last known survivor checkpoint

entry not guaranteed

you stop walking. the others do too. matt stares at the sign like it’s written in a language he doesn’t speak. “we’re close,” you say, heart beating louder than your voice. “we could actually… make it.”

“or it’s a trap,” he says, but there’s no heat in his voice. just fear. nick tilts his head. “it’s the first real lead we’ve had in forever. we’d be idiots not to try.”

“we’ve already been idiots,” chris mutters. “look at us. lieutenant whiskers is our only hope.”

“okay, but he has saved us like, three times,” you say. matt exhales through his nose. tired. conflicted. but then he turns to you, quietly, like the world’s not watching. “if we go there… if it’s real… what happens after?” you know what he’s asking. he’s not talking about the safe zone, he’s talking about you. you swallow. step closer.

“then we stop running,” you whisper. “maybe for the first time.” he nods. slowly. like he wants to believe that. but belief is hard now. trust is harder. and love? that’s the scariest thing of all.

the road gets worse the closer you get. cracked pavement. overturned cars. signs of chaos frozen in time. blood on glass. an old teddy bear, face down in the dirt. half a bike, every step feels heavier. by mile six, your leg’s aching again. matt insists on wrapping it tighter, muttering something about not letting you slow down. you roll your eyes, but you let him. because it’s easier than saying what you’re really thinking.

by mile eight, you find the first body. not a zombie. just… someone who didn’t make it. the others look away. but you stare. because that could’ve been any of you. by mile ten, things start to feel wrong. birds have stopped chirping. wind’s too still. the silence feels watched.

“do you guys feel that?” lana asks, gripping her weapon tighter. “yeah,” matt says grimly. “something’s off.” you round a curve in the road and freeze. a bus. overturned. burned out. surrounded by barricades and empty chairs, like whoever was here left in a hurry…or didn’t leave at all. nick steps forward slowly. “safe zone checkpoint?”

“or where it died,” matt murmurs. you all creep closer. the bus is half-melted. windows blown out. there’s a faint trail of dried blood leading into the trees. “wait—” chris whispers, crouching down. “guys… foot prints. recent.” fresh dirt. small, quick steps. someone else is here.

matt grabs your hand again, tense. “stay close.”your heart hammers in your chest, because this is it, you can feel it. whatever happens next…it’s going to change everything. a twig snaps behind you. you all whip around, weapons raised. breaths caught. no more jokes. no more time. no more space to run. and then…a voice.

soft. broken. human.

“please… help me.”

a child.

maybe ten years old. dirty, bruised, shaking. holding onto a tree trunk with the last of their strength. matt lowers his gun first. “we’ve got you. it’s okay.” you rush to her side, kneel down, feel her pulse, it’s fast, erratic, but there. her eyes fill with tears when you touch her.

“my family..” she chokes. “they didn’t make it. there were more… they’re coming…” “how many?” nick asks, already glancing over his shoulder.

she points.

and behind her, the trees move.

figures. not just a few. a horde.

you look at her slowly, a small smile creeping up on her face, it was a trap, a fucking trap. she must have been affiliated with that gang of men that tried stealing from you guys. “run,” matt says, grabbing you and pulling you up, voice sharp. “everyone, MOVE!” he grabs your hand, tight, and this time, you don’t even think. you run with him like your heart depends on it. because it does.

because love, in the apocalypse, is messy. this may be the start of a new beginning.

💌: we’re nearing the end :)

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featseungmin · 5 months ago

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quest complete | bc

bang chan x reader It’s late by the time Chris finally manages to drag himself home. wc: 0.8k genre: domestic fluff warnings: none thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for the banner 💙 I wrote this at 11pm last night. hope you enjoy

It’s late by the time Chris finally manages to drag himself home. More morning than night, there’s a certain ethereal energy to the night. The beep of the lock as he punches in the code is almost too loud, the jingle of his keys as he places them on the little table in the entry too harsh. It’s a shame to ruin the silence like this, but he’s so tired that there’s nothing he can really do about it. The exhaustion has seeped deep within him, through his muscles and down into the bone.

He almost feels like he’s crawling through the house, he’s moving so slowly, and when he rounds the corner into the living room, he’s shocked to discover the television is still on. For a second, he thinks that you’ve fallen asleep in front of the tv again in an attempt to wait up for him. There’s a brief moment where he considers just collapsing on the couch beside you. But then his brain catches up, and he realizes that it’s a video game on the screen, not a movie, and that you are, in fact, still awake.

“Jagi?” he asks softly, and his voice sounds hoarse, even to his own ears.

You tilt your head in his direction, attention dividing automatically between him and your game. “I thought you’d end up sleeping in the studio again,” you admit.

After a second, you pause your game and reach an arm out to him, beckoning him closer. It would take even less to convince him on a normal day, but right now, his body–his soul–craves your touch, and he’s more than happy to oblige. He hums as you place a delicate kiss to his temple, and there’s a warmth that spreads through him like wildfire.

“What are you doing up still?” he manages to ask.

Just being beside you is enough to energize him even slightly, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side. You snuggle in almost immediately, getting comfortable against him.

“I’m so close to the next chapter,” you tell him, unpausing your game. Chris knows you’ve been dedicating huge amounts of time to it of late. It’s the remake of one of your favorite games, and he knows you’ve been trying to do all of the side quests. Your character–he knows the guy’s name, but his sleep-addled brain can’t seem to recall it–is atop a giant chicken, running through a desert. “I only had a couple more side quests to do, but then the story kept happening and I dunno.” You laugh softly. “Just got sucked in I guess.”

He hums, resting his head against your own.

“Sleepy?” You almost sound amused, your hand coming over to squeeze his thigh.

“Little bit. Long day.”

You pause your game again. “We can go to bed. Let me just save and-”

“‘M comfy here,” he tightens his arm ever so slightly, squeezing you against him. “Get to your checkpoint or whatever.”

He likes to watch you play, sometimes. Your games always seem to have these long narratives, he can’t help but be drawn in. Sure, he misses some of the story sometimes, but he’s usually more than happy to spend time with you while you’re playing, and he knows that you don’t mind filling him in with the story bits that he wasn’t around to see.

Except tonight, he’s exhausted. Normally, his insomnia would have no trouble keeping him awake–there’s been more than one night when you’ve stayed up with him, playing one of your games half-asleep and just going through the motions. Tonight, though? He’s exhausted enough that tonight might actually be one of the nights where he miraculously doesn’t need some sort of sleep aid.

For a moment, you lean to the side and look at him. He’s not quite sure what you’re looking for, maybe you’re just generally looking, maybe you’re checking to make sure he’s okay. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because you squeeze his thigh again, patting the inside of his leg gently. You cradle the controller in your hands, arm coming to rest half on your lap, half on his own, and you settle back into the game.

It’s sweet, how you try to explain to him the little bit of the story that he’s missed. You’re telling him about how you found the big chicken, and he tries to pay attention. He really does. But you’re so warm, and so soft. And he’s so tired. He can feel himself slipping, his head resting heavier against you as you play.

You hum softly, and he feels your thumb rub gently across his leg where your hand rests. “Good night, my love,” you whisper, soft lips brushing against his cheek.

He falls asleep to the triumphant sounds of a completed quest.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan #skz chan #skz bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan fic #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #lapydiariesnet #kvanity #stray kids fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids imagine #bang chan imagine

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palelaboratory · 3 months ago

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Death Island Resident Evil Team going through TSA - Headcanons

۶ৎ Based on my experience, I believe some security checkpoints no longer require electronics to be removed, so here you go.

۶ৎ No badges, no fast lanes, the RE team, barefoot and just, bare, idk, just like everyone else.

۶ৎ Any form of interaction is highly appreciated, thank you mwah.

Jill likes to think that she is always prepared, first one through the door, and also because she doesn't want to get dragged into whatever the guys are definitely going to get called out for.

Until her baggage gets flagged.

She watches it disappear down the secondary screening lane and sighs in disbelief.

"It's just a combat knife."

She'll question them first and have them intimidated, but ends up throwing the knife, only to slide it right back into her bag after being let off.

Chris and Leon burst out laughing from the other side of security only to get glared at by the agent.

Jill slowly turns her head, just a discrete middle finger, raised at just the right angle so only they can see it.

Chris gets stopped for bringing a full and unopened water bottle through, one which he bought just a few minutes before.

Leon would be like "Yes M'am" and then proceeds to do everything the agent asks him not to.

All smiles, pulling out every electronic he owns, two laptops, an iPad, a second phone, a pair of headphones, a game console, spreading them neatly across the tray only to have the agent make him put it all back.

Chris hasn't been paying attention at all after having his water bottle thrown away.

He does the same as Leon and gets yelled at again.

Leon's baggage gets flagged too, and he slowly turns around to check if Jill noticed, only to see her big ass grin.

Turns out his oversized can of shaving cream exceeded the liquid and aerosol limit as he painfully watches it get thrown away.

Chris would also get flagged because of his giant tub of ointment he uses for his shoulder pain.

He would try to pull up his sleeves and flex his biceps to try to show his shoulder as if the agent could somehow see the shoulder pain.

Claire would be the feisty one here, and Chris would try to calm her down.

"You don't have to shout and-" "Claire-"

Chris helps to organize and pack her items quickly as he pulls her away.

Rebecca’s the last one to go through security.

Somehow, she's the first one who makes it to the other side, even before Jill.

She's just checking her items again while the rest of the team gets flagged one by one like it's a group tradition.

#resident evil #jill valentine #chris redfield #resident evil imagine #resident evil imagines #claire redfield #leon kennedy #rebecca chambers #resident evil headcanon #resident evil headcanons

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historia-vitae-magistras · 2 years ago

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41. “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.”

This one hurts so good

Unedited fic is unedited. Set in 1918, at the end of the war when Matt is trying to limp his way through the absolute slog of shit that was the proto-blitzkrieg of the last months of the war. Alfred is trying to pretend he's not avoiding trench duty at the Meuse–Argonne because of the trauma of the American Civil War. I was inspired by my Canadian great-grandfather coming home with American buttons on his coat instead of British or Canadian maple leaves that I inherited and made into earrings, lol.

October, 1918

“Give me a hand, Mattie, fuck.” Alfred cursed all the way up as the tailgate of the troop truck dropped. He was stuck on the single cobblestone that managed to give any traction under the three inches of mud. But it may as well have been concrete, for all he could leverage himself out. In the silvery light of the following truck waiting for its turn to round the corner of the checkpoint, Matt was only a hunched-over figure and a pair of gloved hands that grasped him by the wrists and managed to swing him free. His pack landed with a thud ten seconds before he did, and he was pulled roughly to his feet, and his ass finally found a bench. Almost instantly, the cold wood bit through his layers. Matt had disappeared down the benches and into the dark shelter of the canvas cover.

A‌ soldier, looking beat to shit, offered him a light, and he handed out cigarettes, bribing his way into goodwill. They were all lightly dusted in snow, and sleet battered collars turned up even as it got dryer.

“You’re under Lieutenant Williams, yeah? Where’d he get too?”

Weary soldiers nodded up under the cover.

“Mattie!” Alfred handed his cigarette to another man and cupped two hands over his mouth to shout over the engines. “What’re you avoiding me for? Get your sorry ass down here before I‌ start telling embarrassing stories about you.”‌

No response, no movement. Soldiers looked confused.

“Well, kiddo, guess I’m just going to have to start telling folks about—”

“Just what the fuck is so important—”‌ Matt appeared, just like that, steadying himself on the shoulder of one of his men. They glanced up, a little protective, a little annoyed. Alfred didn’t register it. Matt was a trembling pillar, his face a bright, sharp point above his uniform like a flame over a candle dyed dark with soot.

“You look like shit.”‌ Alfred raised a hand to grab Mattie’s shoulder and he slapped the hand away with a dark expression. The message was clear. He was a leader here, an officer of the ‌British army, not Alfred’s baby brother. Another word and Alfred would be tossed off the back of the truck to enforce the silence.

"Don't use me as a distraction to get out of combat." Matt snapped and disappeared back under the canvas, and Alfred let him. At least it was warmer there. He wasn't avoiding anything.

Soldiers stared at him, and he felt sweaty despite the fall air. He wasn't avoiding anything. Just because he'd had six planes shot out from under him in as many weeks and the thought of another stint in a trench made him want to die didn't mean he didn't care. He offered up cigarettes with a smile, bribing his own Americans up with him.

“Headed up to the line anyways,” He made small talk with the soldiers around him, as popular for his cigarette supply as he was for the chocolate constantly in his coat pockets. Some of them were Americans, volunteering before the US joined the war. Boys from New York, Wisconsin, and other places had easily slid across the border without needing real paperwork. The convoy slid north on the icy roads, following the advance to leapfrog ahead of the infantry currently on the front line and pushing forward to relieve the men presently fighting their way back into Belgium. He dozed between them, one of them. He didn't much like his own under a British flag, but it felt... Solid somehow, that it was with Matt. At least it wasn't the sour old fart. He was thinking about Christmas when he was startled awake.

He awoke to coughing. Everyone had a bit of one, the rough soldier’s coughs that everyone had at some point. But this was horrible, and it was constant, drawing into someone’s lungs. And he recognized it. Alfred was instantly on his feet, weaving through the legs of sleepy men. He flung open a canvas flap and took the lantern swinging on the canvas, support in hand.

Matt was sitting, barely supported between two soldiers, his helmet off, the pale of before replaced with a violent flush, mouth open to breathe, trying to suck in air. His chin was tucked into his chest, and the coughing had not stopped.

“You don’t look so good, sir.” One of the sergeants said. Matt looked up.

“Just cold.” He said, trying to smile. “Everyone’s just cold. We’ll get moving and warm up, eh?”

The laugh he forced just turned into more coughing. Alfred stood there, lantern in hand. The soldiers around Matt looked protective, staring at him like he was an enemy they needed to hide their vulnerable commander from. Then, one sidled up to him. A boy from Wisconsin with a crop of ruddy curls. He pat Alfred on the arm and knew instantly he was a mechanic’s son from Green Bay, nestled right against Canada’s belly on the Great Lakes.

“We took the edge of a gas shell last week, and he’s been coughing like that since. Won’t listen to anyone and get a rest because there’s a shortage of officers.”

“Christ’s sake,” Alfred muttered. He sidled between bodies and inserted himself between his brother and one sergeant. He popped Matt’s helmet on and got close. The professional kind of close, resisting the urge to cradle Matt like he had their entire lives.

“There’s a casualty clearing half a mile up the road. Get fed, get dry, get some sober sack time, and I’ll make sure I get you in a goddamn staff car and back up the line before they’re assaulting anything, all right?‌ Hand to God, I‌ will get you back up here if you get some fucking rest.”

Matt was still, sweating now and fading to pale. He was shaking. And then he nodded.

“Hallelujah, you stupid bastard.” Alfred muttered.

He got Matt down the end of the truck as it jolted along, hands under his brother’s arms. His coat flapped open, and Alfred batted it away from him, annoyed.

“Button your fucking coat before you get pneumonia.”‌

A deep, curdled-chest cough was his response.

“Can’t.” Matt gasped. “Got caught on a bit of wire while we were digging funk holes, tugged right off.”

Alfred sighed.

“Okay, you poor dumb fuck. Give it here.”

Matt looked confused, and Alfred resisted the urge to feel his forehead. Instead, he shrugged his great coat off.

“Swap me.” He said. Matt just stared. Alfred huffed.

“You’re freezing.”

“I’m used to it.” He said and crossed his arms over his unfastened coat. “I‌ was fucking born cold, I’ll die cold, and there’s not fuck all anyone can do about it in between.”

“Except give you a decent fucking coat you melodramatic shit.” Alfred was this close to smacking upside the head. He felt guilty for even having the thought as Matt exploded into coughing again. He dipped forward, collapsing into the bench at the far end of the truck bed, and Alfred gripped him by the waist, suddenly frightened he’d vomit or tumble over the tailgate and into the mud-churned roads. He pulled him back and took the opportunity to pull his coat off and wrap him in the better American one. Matt glared the entire time, but words were constricted by the endless wheezing when he went to speak. Alfred shoved his arms into the coat sleeves and buttoned it up, the American eagles shining in the lantern light. Matt glared daggers for a split second before he dragged in an inhale so violent he gagged. Every other soldier in the truck looked away. Alfred's chest hurt just listening.

At the next crossroads, American Red Cross nurses half-staffed the Casualty Clearing Station, and Alfred gave their commander his best, crooked, beaming smile and a wink. They gave him one of the visitor’s huts with a stove, a corrugated roof and two cots with clean sheets. Matt could barely stay on his feet. The mud sucked at his boots, and Alfred hauled him along. He considered picking Matt up entirely but wasn’t fully convinced the brass knuckles he’d mailed Matt years back had been lost somewhere along the way and wouldn’t end up embedded in his kidneys. At least not the way Matt was glaring.

He deposited Matt on a bed, dumped water from the pitcher and wash basin into a tin pot resting on the stove and cranked the stove as high as he could. It’d been almost 200 years since he’d needed someone to boil water and strange herbal plants and shove him and all the steam it could produce under a blanket.

Matt immediately listed to the side like a poorly loaded plane.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Alfred hadn’t even sat down yet. “Don’t be stubborn. Just breathe some fucking steam until you don’t sound like you’re about to die.”

“Sorry,” Came a very faint croak.

He frowned and peeked under the wool blanket. Matt had collapsed onto his side, and his eyes were squeezed shut, breathing too shallow to make him cough, but it still didn’t sound like he was getting enough of it.

“Hey.” Alfred pushed what was left of Matt’s damp curls off his forehead. He looked so strange with hair this short. It’d been shorn when Francis gave him up, and the look on him still made him look just as abandoned, even fully grown and in British green. The thought was as gone as quickly as it came.

“You are burning.” Alfred pressed a hand to his forehead. Matt’s eyes hadn’t opened. He made a gentle sound of acknowledgment but didn’t speak, like it didn’t surprise him.

“Have you had the flu yet?”‌

“No.”

“Is this—?”‌

“No.” He said. “This just… happens sometimes. I‌ didn’t take the pills because I just— wanted some sleep.”

Still wearing Matt’s coat, Alfred stuck his hand in the pocket. Unmarked bottles of pills. He only recognized the contents of one of the bottles as aspirin.

“Do I‌ want to know what’s in these?”

“No.”

“Can I ask where you got them?”

“Zee, Uncle Alasdair, Dad.”

“Let me guess, none of them knew who else was giving you what. God I am going to ban everything when we get home. Temperance is just the begin—”

Alfred was feeling uncharacteristically like a responsible older brother, ready to give Matt a whole hellfire and brimstone Baptist lecture for a moment before Matt spoke.

“I’m just glad you’re here.” He found his brother looking up at him, gratitude as evident on his face as misery.

The heavy eyes and distinctly sick flush belied an expression Alfred didn't see often. It came fast on the heels of father's anger or Matt's fear dissolving. Grateful, instantly secure and safe usually snuggled up in Alfred's side, burrowed there against his own madness or the household's hostility. He blinked and Alfred felt horrible as he teared up and then exhaled, pushing away the emotion.

But there was still something small to him. “I miss you more when I’m this pathetic. I feel better.”

"I know." Alfred pushed sweaty hair off his feverish face and gave him a tap on the chin. "Get some sleep kiddo, you know I'll keep you safe."

#the ask box || probis pateo #my writing || cacoethes scribendi #hws canada #hws america

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morbidology · 2 years ago

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In 2005, American Pulitzer Prize nominated war photographer, Chris Hondros, travelled to Iraq to cover the current war. On 18 January, 2005, he was in Tal Afar when he witnessed a car failing to stop at a U.S. checkpoint. The U.S. Soldiers feared that the occupants of the car were suicide bombers and automatically opened fire on the car, killing both parents and one of their five children. The photograph above shows 5-year-old Samar Hassan splattered in the blood of her parents and sibling. Chris Hondros later said: “Almost every soldier in Iraq has been involved in some sort of incident like that or another, I would say. Their attitude about it was grim, but it wasn’t the end of their world.” In 2011, Chris Hondros was killed by a mortar attack while photographing the Libyan civil war.

#war #history

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t0ast-ghost · 1 year ago

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okay get ready, strap in, we got a two parter. Time for my notes on episodes 12&13 (The Menagerie):

- I wonder if they’re really gonna put the men into menagerie

- I got whammied. They all appeared at once. Together.

- OMG PIKE

- the kuleshov effect doesn’t work to well in this situation

- Spock’s gonna betray them? Kirk believes that Spock can literally do no wrong

- Spock sneaking around is hilarious but again hiding in plain sight should not be an effective strategy

- UHURA! Yes!

- SPOCK! No!

- He’s so stressed, look MORE EMOTION

- where has Bones puttered off to- oh there he is

- Kirk devastated that his boyfriend could lie to him so he confides in his other boyfriend about it

- Bones sitting on surfaces compilation (12:35)

- “there’s a false entry that doesn’t jibe with the facts” jibe…

- Bones defending Spock my heart ughhhggg

- Why is Spock trying to get Doctor McCoy back on the enterprise??

- he yoinked the ship- he fuckin yoinked it

- uh oh McCoy is suspicious. “Follow Spock’s instructions to the letter” like hell he will

- Spock listening to “shuttlecraft is past point of safe return” and you can see him look like ‘god fucking dammit Jim’

- “I keep thinking who would be coming at us in a shuttle craft, and I keep coming up with the same answers” yeah it’s your idiot boyfriend, McCoy

- “for mutiny, doctor. I never received orders to take command” and that’s your second idiot boyfriend

- Bones is so worried, he doesn’t want Spock confined, he also doesn’t want to believe he’s been deceived by his friend

- Spock looks so ashamed and sad. He’s sad.

- “whatever he’s up to, he’s planned it well” no he hasn’t. I see his fear and panic. (Edit: this turned out to be somewhat untrue)

- wow that’s a good angle on those tapes. That’s so cool that they’re bringing back the pilot tho

- forgot this was how he chose to lay down to wait for his doctor

- wait wait wait so you expect me to believe aliens filmed this episode?

- so is Spock trying to send Pike to this planet so that he can live with Vina?

- *close up on Spock from episode one. Cut to the meeting room present day* Kirk: I’m so glad Bones bought you that eyeshadow, Mr. Spock

SECOND PART STARTS HERE - checkpoint

- considering how blue Pike’s eyes are it’s so funny how Chris Pine ended up playing Kirk and not a guy called Chris Pike…

- that’s kind of amazing how it almost seems like this is just apart of the episode (especially considering the fact that all the stuff in the original episode had so much world building. Like it really seemed like all the adventures were already normal.) like they made this past storyline as just another part of the episode.

- forgot how awesome number one was, kinda excited to watch strange new worlds now

- get sent to hell, dipshit

- I FORGOT ABOUT THE ‘bouinngg’ NOISE

- since they get to replay a whole damn episode I get to put in my favourite notes I made from watching this the first time

- WHAT THE COMMODORE WAS FAKE?!?

- the nod from the beings at the end is so like “yeah that sounded so good.”

- and they lived happily ever after

The end

Master post

(note to self: Pls draw Bones doing Spock’s makeup but like that one pic)

#Star Trek #star trek the original series #star trek tos #star trek kirk #tos kirk #captain james kirk #christopher pike #captain pike #star trek spock #tos spock #spock #star trek mccoy #tos mccoy #leonard bones mccoy #star trek uhura #tos uhura #nyota uhura

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inqorporeal · 3 months ago

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I'm starting with this reaction response because Chris has a lot of good points to make:

youtube

But I strongly recommend watching his full interview with Chuck Schumer if you can stomach it, because it highlights why establishment Democrats are acting like this is business as usual and not a legitimate national crisis.

youtube

They think things are going to be like they were in 2017. I can't facepalm hard enough. What's it gonna take, Chuck? They're already flown past your checkpoints!

#us politics #for fucks sake #I really hope his office is getting inundated with people calling him old and out of touch #Youtube

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months ago

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Relocation, Stage 2

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none

Pairings: also none

Word Count: 838

The first person to talk to him that isn't already in on it is Jack, one of the guards assigned to the Winters' protection detail.

"Sir?" He knocks on Chris's office door. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

"Sure." He pushes a pile of reports into the 'not right now' corner of his desk and indicates the chair. "What's going on?"

Jack sits, jaw working as he contemplates his words. "I know there are reasons for housing Ethan and Rose where they are right now, but I'd like to formally request that they be moved to closer proximity."

Chris blinks. "What?"

"I know how it sounds, and I know for security reasons that's not ideal, but…" He sighs, mouth twisting. "Sir, can I be frank?"

"Go ahead."

"A kid shouldn't have to run through three security checkpoints, go outside, and have an armed escort to get to her dad when she's crying from a nightmare."

Chris blows out a breath. His runs through the compound itch under his skin, cursing at the elevator for not being faster, hitting his damn ID badge against the sensors and trying to get them to let him the fuck in already, fumbling with keys and glaring at guards to let him get to Rose, damnit. Jack seems to take his silence as permission to keep talking.

"I've spoken with the team responsible for tracking their vitals too. Both of them returned to normal way faster when they were allowed to be together than when they were apart. Granted, Rose has been calming down better for a while now, but it really picked up when Ethan came back and now it's getting even better—"

"I get the picture."

Jack's quiet for a moment. Then: "If it's a shift issue, me and six others are willing to pull more hours."

"It's not—that's good to know, but…" Chris sighs. "You know it's not that simple, Jack."

"I know."

"Who're the others?"

"Uh, it's me, Mark, Cory, Scott, Wade, John, and Bob."

"And you all think they should be moved closer?"

"We're not trying to compromise their security or risk something happening, we just thought—"

"Would you be comfortable putting that down on paper?"

Jack blinks, caught off guard, before he realizes that Chris isn't trying to chew him out. He nods, unsure, and Chris pulls a file out of his desk drawer. He thumbs through it and pulls out a sheet of paper. Jack takes it.

"File that with Amelia on the third floor. Have each of them do the same, but have 'em go separately. You said you spoke with some of the doctors too?"

"Well, not the doctors per se, but the security team up in Hub 7, them?"

Chris nods. "I see."

"Uh, and for what it's worth, sir?"

"Yeah?"

Jack struggles with something for a moment before he gets up, clutching the sheet of paper. "I won't speak for everyone else, but I at least would advocate for having them moved to sector 5 quarters."

The team's barracks. He tries to keep his expression as neutral as possible but he can't stop his fist clenching under the table. Maybe this won't be as hard as he thought. "Put that in there too."

Relief openly plays on Jack's features as he gives Chris a sharp nod and turns to go. Chris watches the tassel on the blinds sway for a few minutes before he tosses his pen on the desk and gets up. He makes his way through the halls and up the elevators until he reaches Hub 7, swiping his badge and opening the door to the half-dark room.

Addison looks up from the row of monitors, setting aside the clipboard in hand and turning to face him. He holds out a hand to forestall any attempts to get up from the rest of the staff, coming to lean over her shoulder. On it, there's the feed from the grainy camera in the southwest courtyard watching Rose and Ethan sitting on one of the benches.

"They've been out there for half an hour," Addison says quietly, "nothing to report, no problems, no nothing, sir."

Chris nods. "Has Jack come to speak to you at all recently?"

She gives him a look as though she knows exactly what he's trying to say and reaches for a manila folder set off to the side. He opens it and blinks to see a perfectly collated report of vital history and timestamped memos.

"I ever tell you you're too good for this place?"

"Not often enough. That's all ready to go whenever you need it for your presentation."

"Who said anything about a presentation," he asks, idly flicking through the folder, "what presentation?"

"The one you're putting together on the Winters' behalf."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Uh huh. Sure you don't."

He swats her shoulder halfheartedly with the folder and winks as he leaves. He can't stop the smile coming to his face as he walks back down the hall.

#dragonbabbles #fic #resident evil

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totaldramagamechallengers · 1 year ago

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"Killer Fighters, welcome to your first ever elimination ceremony." Chris grinned as he bends down to receive seven golden medals with the straps being in the Team colours.

"Here's the deal, for this season, instead of a marshmallow, it's a McLean Medal, made with with finest chocolate out there. Whoever gets one, lives to play another day, whoever doesn't, is out of the contest, and you can't come back, EVER."

The tense atmosphere suffocates the players, then Chef pops out something.

"Gwen." The goth looks at Chef with worry.

"Now I understand your claustrophobia, but you slowed your team down when you were rowing inside the cave."

Gwen sighed. "Yeah..."

"Brick."

"Yes sir?" The cadet asked.

"You allowed your emotions to get the best of you, whilst you made up for that, will that be enough for you to stay?"

"I sure hope so, Sir." Brick salutes.

"It's cool, dude, we got ahead of them anyways!" Lightning reassures him.

"And finally, Percy."

Percy just seemed unbothered.

"It's bad enough you've been pushing around your team before the challenge has even started..."

"What? They're just getting on my nerves, old man!"

"...But you've also decided to shove Lucy off your checkpoint zone before your team's Dragon boat have arrived! Not only costing your team the challenge, but also putting her in danger!"

His entire team glared at him with malice.

Confessional: Percy

"So what?! She's just lucky she can still walk! She's just a massive weirdo who just stands there. Who does she think she is, trying to stand out by wearing that?!"

"See the old outhouse confessional?" He points at the outhouse confessional. "That's your voting booth,"

"Not an ideal voting booth, Chris." Gwen snarked.

"Just write down on a piece of paper, that is not toilet paper, the name of the person you want to eliminate and slot it inside the voting box."

The Killer Fighters are content, they've made up their minds.

"Now, get voting." Lucy stands up to head inside.

#total drama #td #total drama game challengers #tdgc #td oc #total drama original character #td lucy #td rio #td brick #td lightning #td dawn #td gwen #td harold #td percy #td chris #td chef

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homosexuality-and-morphine · 3 months ago

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More people than I expected (more than zero) liked my post about the death loop au I made so I'm going to explain the dynamics of it bc they're all fucking stupid and I love them (I've dubbed their group "the loopers")

Piers:

First person to experience the loops, it started in edonia right after that first cutscene for chapter two. He immediately got shot in the head after getting out of the car and suddenly he was back right before he got shot and so he moved a little and was fine but the bullet went the same path as before and after a few other deaths he came to the realization that everytime he died he got reset to a point in time so he talks to Chris about it bc it's a very useful skill if we're being honest (although pretty traumatizing and painful since he can still feel the pain of each death) and it just so happens they got to the next "checkpoint" right after Chris says he believes piers but then piers dies again but this time at the new checkpoint. Later at the area where you first meet Carla he dies a few times before getting to the end area of that where she infects the others but this time he tries shoots her and she shoots him and he dies once again and he's right back at the beginning (he had already died about 10 times) and tells Chris not to trust the woman in blue and they set off to leave without her killing them all however Carla caught on each time and no matter how piers played it he would just die over and over and throughout those some times he would just breakdown and cry for an entire loop because who cares it's all going to reset again anyway and he ends up having to sacrifice some on their squad to keep going (his final death count for this section is in the 500's) which goes against what he says in that first cutscene. Later on after getting Chris and Finn out (Finn was the only preventable death here cause I love finn and he's like the only other soldier that has a name) Chris still looses his memories and piers still has to find him and blah blah blah china goes how you would expect a bunch of deaths but also once they got to the playground piers played on it for a while in at least 2 loops bc he was tired of dying and needed a small break. When the ending hits he still gets his arm ripped off because that checkpoint was always just right before he gets smashed with the thing (I forgot what it was) so after some trial and error he realizes he HAS to infect himself to at least get Chris out and so he does but when he sacrifices himself it resets the loop and so he figures he has to get out with Chris and so they do... With a few deaths bc piers suddenly gains his gills while out of the water and suffocates. Once they get out piers gets his own place in the bsaa to live and goes about dying to random cartoonish things (and heartatacks bc when Chris dies it immediately kills piers due to the mechanic of re6) piers has come to terms with the deaths and tends to make jokes out of it

Jake:

Jake was the second to be added to the loops and got added after the events of re6 happened and when he found out was when him Sherry piers and Chris were talking one day and he suddenly got killed by a falling light and it looped so while Jake was processing what just happened piers was like "hey Jake.... Did you just die" and it freaked Jake out and after a bit of fighting (which resulted in a few accidental deaths on both sides) everyone calmed down and piers set out on teaching Jake about the loops (and piers wasn't very enthusiastic about this bc he doesn't like Jake) Jake has come to terms with him dying but really hates when Sherry gets killed (bc just like for Chris and piers Sherry dying kills Jake)

Leon:

Leon may or may not have had one of the most traumatizing ways of being added to the loops because he was just hanging out with Chris and Claire when suddenly Chris is killed by something and slowly dies is Leon's arms and confesses his love cause what the fuck else are you supposed to do when you're literally dying and have had a crush on the person who's arms you're dying in and once Chris dies Leon suddenly has a heartatack aaaand woops he's sitting on the couch again and Chris is 100% fine! But also seems to have no memory of what just happened and neither does Claire and he chalks it up to being something his brain made up to fuck with him (but he does act more cautious and keeps Chris away from whatever killed him before) but then shockingly Chris dies! Again and the confession happens again and it happens a few more times and while Leon is dealing with that piers texts Jake and asks "dude do you need any help?? You keep dying" and Jake texts back "I thought you were dying?" So they brainstorm and assume Chris has been dying (bc Sherry was with Jake and she hadn't been dying and also piers kept getting pains in his chest before each loop) and so piers comes over and just simply goes "Chris you've been dying and it's getting annoying" and Leon gets freaked out bc this random guy he's only met like once and have never spoken to him knows what's been happening and they figure it out also every time Leon tries to confess or tell Chris about what happened in those first loops either him or Chris dies and he figures being able to kiss in any other environment than when Chris is literally dying is less important than keeping Chris alive. Leon has not come to terms with the loops and hates when him and Chris die (it's less hard on him when Helena dies bc he can just save her but when Chris dies it's always long and drawn out and it really gets to Leon)

Ada:

She has never died and never will bc even if agent is in danger she saves him however that doesn't mean she doesn't deal with the loops because Jake Leon and piers are notoriously bad at keeping themselves alive because when Leon dies more than 4 times he starts to just give up, piers is careless with his own life, and Jake rushes in to save Sherry a lot of the time and accidentally gets himself killed instead. She was then paid by the bsaa to work for them bc they somehow figured out she's also apart of the loops so her and agent are in the same team as the rest of them. She has come to terms with literally everyone else dying while she's the only one that holds the collective brain cell that the loopers share

Extra bits:

The bsaa created some technology that is able to detect checkpoints and how many deaths they have and is able to store stuff on it from past loops (it was made to help Chris know what happened in the previous loops so that if one loop was particularly rough the loopers don't have to talk about it) it also takes the data it gets from the mission and gives them all ratings based on how well they do (which means less deaths equal better score) and most of the time Ada always has the highest score while piers has the lowest. All 4 of them have gotten really good at being able to switch what they're doing very quickly because if they are walking when they enter the checkpoint but die standing still they would fall over when they loop back so they can easily switch between tasks seamlessly.

#goobie snoobery #leon s kennedy #chris redfield #jake muller #piers nivans #sherry birkin #ada wong #agent re6 #chreon

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calmwaterstarot · 11 months ago

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Do you know if "A" knows about his dumb shenanigans today with the Access Hollywood interview? Thanks!

Of course! The problem is that everyone views his "marriage" as real, but it's not.

As far as the general public goes, most people outside of Tumblr and LSA don't keep up with Chris and Alba. His star status has fallen and he's working on regaining it with a career revival. Alba never had any status—that's why she needed Chris—and she blew her chances in Hollywood. She thought opportunities would fall into her lap, but she fumbled the ball. Now, she's trying to get her name out there again, which is why you're seeing a flurry of PR.

Unfortunately, the Access Hollywood interview is just another checkpoint in the contract. That's how PR works. I'm sure there will be more shitposts over the next few days and around their "anniversary," but he can't "divorce" her before the one-year mark because that's not a part of the contract. Plus, it'd make him look like he can't even stay married a year, which is NOT a good look for his image, especially when he's trying to get his career back on track. It's all smoke and mirrors.

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chaosandwolves · 2 years ago

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Tell me about My Hollow Fortress please? 💕🦛

Hello lovely!

Ooohhh yes! I was actually so proud of that one but then - like so often- I lost the momentum and it's hard to get back into it. (one of the most annoying things about ADHD tbh)

So my document says it's inspired by this fic by @evcndiaz

I gotta be honest, I'm gonna have to reread that first so I can't tell you much about that fic rn.

This wip is basically about Eddie and how, throughout his life, he has built these walls around him and only ever done what people expected him to do.

And I went with this image of a fortress he's built that he keeps repairing whenever there is a dent.

And Chris and the 118 make it all crumbling down. And, of course, Buck

The fic is full of metaphors surrounding this fortress and programming.

I really tried to choose a small snippet but I couldn't quite decide so here is a bigger part of the WIP

Eddie does all these things for others, wants all these things for others, builds all these things...

For others.

But not for himself, never for himself. How could he? How could he? When the only time he allowed himself to build something for himself;

when the only time he dared to follow his heart without it having to pass all the checkpoints in his head;

when the only time he could taste the feeling of "home" on his tongue;

when the only time he dared to take and to live and to breathe;

when the only time "together" was a feeling and not just carefully carved out hollow scripts and instructions;

When the only time he allowed himself all that, it was not only ripped from him but he was also the reason for all the pain that followed.

So for Eddie the next steps were crystal clear.

He built himself up again, locked himself in a perfectly, rule following form he could shape and mold as needed. Built it like a responsive program, with clear instructions and predictable responses. He could rewrite the script every time it was needed. He learned how to smile in a way that wouldn't show how little it reached inside him.

Sometimes, sometimes Shannon put a dent or a little crack into his form. And sometimes he would allow himself to feel the warmth and light coming through, just for a few moments, before he took his bucket of clay to repair the damage.

It was good. He was doing well. Doing what he had calculated the world was expecting of him.

But then… Then the unforeseen variable hit him and his sculpture started to crumble and in his panic, he couldn't keep up the repair, couldn't find a solution. And everything was filling up with black smoke and he couldn't breathe and so he ran.

He ran far far away and sought out the only place he knew where he could still pretend to be in control, pretend to follow the caring love he was supposed to feel in his bones but that he had disposed of outside his fortress.

Where he didn't have to think about the programming anymore, could hand over the script to someone else to have time; time to rebuild and form and mold.

And it worked. Partially. Cause war is one big unpredictable variable.

But it was fine. Eddie learned how to mend the irreversible damages the war left him with. He couldn't close the cracks and the dents but he could put another layer of clay on top. It's fine.

And then.

Then Christopher was there and Eddie wanted to scream. This was not supposed to happen. There was suddenly this massive hole right above his heart and Christopher filled it with light and laughter that reached inside his shell and crept into his skin and reached for his heart.

It wasn't fair. Eddie had so carefully collected all the instructions and built them into his program, wrote the script.

It was the perfect plan.

But Christopher took his pen and broke it. He took the access to his coding and Eddie was left with only the data he had collected to this point and wasn't able to adjust everything accordingly.

So he kept adding layers of clay around the hole he couldn't close.

But slowly, slowly, slowly the warmth crept inside his bones and the memory of breath in his chest and laughter in his heart brushed the outer skirts of his existence.

And just as he was pushing it away he choked at the thought that his son would one day live like this and the next mission appeared in front of him like an order.

So he took Christopher, brought him to safety, away from everything that had helped Eddie to build his hollow castle.

That was probably the best decision he ever made and he decided that if his broken program doesn't provide him with a script, he will filter it through Chris, make it work for his son to make sure that he could keep laughing and breathing with his entire being.

That was his most important mission, standing above all else.

When he met the 118 it was easy to run his programs and do all the things. Following orders on a daily basis again made it all so much easier.

It gave him time to guard the hole and thicken his walls.

But he didn't notice that the clay was melting faster than he could keep reapplying it.

The walls of his bunker grew thin and started to crumble bit by bit.

And Christopher wasn't the only one any more who threatened his fortress.

The 118 is family.

Family like Eddie had always wished but never gotten an instruction for. So he couldn't stop them from appearing at his door steps and bringing light and peeking through the cracks.

And Eddie found himself minding it less and less.

The tension in his shoulders eased, the ache in his arms started to lighten as he didn't have to apply the clay anymore in every free second he had.

And then

Buck

...

And for a second, for a second he stands in the burning remains of his castle, stands in absolute darkness, knowing that the light is gone forever.

But then Chris is there, alive and breathing.

Chris tells him everything. How Buck saved him, how he saved even more people, how Chris fell into the water.

For a second he wants to be angry at Buck. Wants to to take this as a reason to reinforce his fortress.

But then he remembers Buck's face, hears his voice, feels his despair.

And he knows it in his bones that Buck saved Chris, that Buck would do everything for his son

And then then he was shot and everything crumbled down.

He was stripped of all the walls in an instance. They were torn down and ripped apart and there was nothing he could do about it.

He desperately scrambled for the burned pieces of his script, for the broken bits of his programs and he tried, he tried and tried to hastily rebuild and he stepped away from Buck who brought all this damage and ache and longing which was just too much too much too much too much.

#Buddie #Buddie wip #Wip game #Sry for the late reply #My spoons weren't present #Also sorry this is so long #And remember #This is an unedited wip so there are flaaaaws and repetitions #Chaos answers

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