#nope not time yet

[mugwot]

lets go gamers

[lucabyte]

sorry loop if this looks gay to the viewers

[little-pondhead]

Unknown to the time-traveling Dan, Danny and Dani Phantom, Bruce Wayne is actually their great-great grandson.

They just don’t know which Phantom line he belongs to, because none of them have actually gone back in time yet to an era that would match up with the Wayne family tree.

[bardnuts]

going as long as possible with Astarion as your only party member (and playing dark urge) is probably one of the funniest early-game experiences there is

Imagine: random chance frees you from 200 years of slavery and you team up with this random, extremely bad vibes stranger for "protection," except each of you is completely convinced the other might kill you in your sleep (one of you has horrifyingly worrying intrusive thoughts and the other has already pulled a knife at least once). You dont have 20 strength between you. You can barely protect each other but at least this random freak is SOMEONE and you need SOMEONE or Cazador will find you and grab you. So you attach yourself at the hip and try to ignore the way this strange amnesiac mutters "blood" to himself when he thinks you're not listening

and OK, you think, the other guy hasn't killed me yet and he definitely has had ample opportunity, but you're SO THIRSTY and neither of you have slept through the night yet because you're too busy keeping watch on one another, so maybe he's finally tired enough that you can just take a little bite while he's--oh shit

I spent three days like this. It was a delightful little interlude and everyone should try it

[qroier]

the hermanitos got seperated today

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Prev

Trespasser, In Which Jak Gets Another Bad Idea

When he'd hastily redressed and stumbled out of the garrison locker room before anything else could happen, Jak quickly found himself confronted by that Strom guy again.

"An hour? Really?" Strom pursed his lips disapprovingly. "You think we have some magic supply of water to spare?"

"Lay off, we weren't washing for an hour -- much as I'd love to," Daxter argued, "The big guy fell asleep!"

"In the shower? Isn't that dangerous?"

Jak shrugged. "How would I know?"

Strom decided after a moment that this fell under the category of "none of my business". He sighed and waved for Jak to follow him.

"The king says we're to put you up in the barracks for now." He eyed Jak's face, somewhat startled by how much younger he looked under the dirt. "How old are you?"

Jak shrugged. "Midway through seventeen-ish. I think. My "guardian" wasn't exactly a reliable source."

More things to file under "none of my business"

"Oh...kay..." Strom did his best to move past one or two odd questions surfacing in his mind. "Well that narrows down which dorm you're in, at least."

"How so?"

They stepped back out into the late afternoon heat, onto the main road through the Gate District. The burning sun barely touched Jak, deflected by his wet clothes as if he were wearing his own air conditioning. He decided to pretend it had been intentional. Just in case someone asked why his clothes were all wet.

They were led towards the end of a row of houses built into the city wall, leading to an impressibly high flight of stairs into some kind of coliseum. Strom did his best to explain as he led them up the stairs, but he wasn't usually the guy they called for rookie orientation for a reason.

"It's um. So- okay look. The Arena sublevels are divided into three floors: the hospital, the armory, and the barracks. Barracks are split between militia, citizen candidates, and teenage Squads."

He didn't explain Squads.

"You're going to end up in that last one -- probably Dorm 4, that's where they put orphans or unregistered foundlings."

"Orphans?!" Daxter chirped indignantly. Then he paused. "I mean. I guess it's accurate, but you didn't have to say it!"

They didn't end up in Dorm 4.

The Resident Advisor took one look at the slightly dusty, slightly soggy, boy and ottsel and assigned them to an empty bunk in the second hall, Dorm 2. Jak was handed a canteen and a folded set of sheets before being unceremoniously ushered down the hall and into a sparse dorm room holding two bunk beds. For the moment, it was empty.

"Lights are out at 9 bells, no exceptions unless you got a case of the screaming meemies," the RA said gruffly. He pointed at a bottom bunk without sheets -- Jak's, apparently.

"You're responsible for keeping that bunk at least clean enough to pass weekly room checks. Check the schedule on the wall if you want to know when mess hall is open. If you miss that, you can hit the markets, but you're on your own for paying for it."

Jak eyed the bunk uncomfortably. He was responsible for maintaining this bed? He probably wasn't even going to be here that long! He cringed when the RA pushed a twelve by six metal box across the floor with a terrible scratching sound.

"That's your footlocker. If you want a lock, get it yourself. You kids keep losin' em and now we're out." The RA snorted. "But most of the squad in your room is on home rotation this week, so you only have to worry about maybe Sam stealing your stuff. He won't, by the way. Too busy training."

He turned to go, then turned back quickly. "Oh. Gotta confiscate your gun mods, so don't lose your marbles when you get your gun back plain."

"The rot you do!" Jak protested, "I earned those!"

"Don't care." The RA shrugged. "None of your dormmates have and I don't want 'em getting ideas about "borrowing" em."

With a stern warning not to start any fights, and to not miss allotted mealtimes if he didn't want to go hungry, the RA keft Jak alone with Daxter. They stood in the center of the room, blinking incredulously.

"Well..." Jak said after several seconds, "It's not a cell."

"Or an alley," Daxter agreed.

He hopped down and examined the mattress. Nothing fancy, but it was miles better than they were used to.

"Here, gimme the fitted sheet."

"What's a fitted sheet?"

"The one with the stretchy corners." Daxter pointed. "That's the one that goes on the bottom. Wraps around so it don't get pulled off if you roll around a lot."

"...oh. Weird."

Jak handed the thing to Daxter and watched in fascination as his friend set about attaching one corner at a time. It looked difficult.

Before he could offer help, his talk-box activated. That was a bit of a surprise. They'd been traveling for two days already and nobody had made a peep. Daxter had thought they'd have noticed the first time he turned off the location tracker!

"Jak! Jak, where are you?!"

Samos. Jak's stomach churned.

"Don't know," he answered flippantly. "I think we just got put in an orphanage."

"Don't be ridiculous! Get out of whatever nonsense you two knuckleheads have walked into and get back to Main Town! Something is going on, and I need time to investigate without those blasted Deathbots shooting at me!"

"Life's hard."

"What did you just say?"

Jak scoffed, feeling a little of the bubbling anger of dark eco in his core.

"You can't handle a little gunfire? You didn't have an issue making a couple kids walk into it daily. You'll figure it out."

"How can you say something so horrible to me?! I raised you to be a hero, Jak! You sound like that mercenary!"

Jak snorted."Well good. Sig's the only adult in that city I still trust."

Samos sputtered for several seconds in helpless, bewildered anger. Then he gathered himself.

"Get over yourself, Jak! Lives are at stake! I don't care what you're playing at, you turn around and get back here before something worse happens!"

Jak rolled his eyes. The sage sounded like Ashelin. He tossed Daxter the top sheet and studied the foot locker, wondering if he should use it.

"Nah, can't."

"What do you mean "can't?"

Jak shrugged as if Samos could see him. As if Daxter hadn't placed a piece of tape over the lens when he got tired of the spying.

"Oracle says I'm not done out here. Wherever "here" is. Lay off, wouldja? The Precursors sent me out here!"

He listened to Samos's stunned silence a moment before dryly asking, "Did you think they only spoke to Onin, or-?"

"But-" the old sage stammered, "But why would the Precursors send you from us when our need was greatest?"

"Probably because yours isn't the only city in the world? There are other people out there, Haven can get over itself," Jak flung the sage's words right back at him.

"What makes you think there's anything beyond the walls other than ruined wastes?"

"Those eco shipments for Praxis were coming from somewhere," Jak reasoned. Then his voice darkened to match his mood.

"There's no law that says I can't investigate. Sandover may have turned into Haven, but that doesn't mean I'm chained to it. You people already tried that, remember?"

"Jak!"

"I think the Precursors want me to find out who else survived," Jak said, though he wasn't sure that was it at all.

"I'll let you know if I find any sages."

"But Jak-!"

"Have to go, Samos. That hall monitor guy didn't say comm calls weren't allowed in the dorms but I need this thing, so I'm not taking chances."

He ended the call before Samos could make more than an outraged cough. When he looked down, Daxter was watching him with a funny expression.

"What?" he asked, a bit defensively.

"Nothin," Daxter said, unconvincingly. Then he gave a bittersweet grin. "Just never heard you stand up to Loghead like that before."

Jak looked away. "Should've been fighting him from day one. Like you. You knew he was bad news from the start, didn't you?"

Daxter rubbed his arm ruefully. "I um. I don't got a lot of memories of my folks. I was pretty little when the shark got em. But I remember my old man saying "Never trust a man who won't apologize to a kid", and then Samos came through dragging you. An'...an' you cried that whole first day, kept pointing to the sky and making a circle with your arms. And Samos ignored you."

Jak swallowed hard. "I don't remember that," he said softly. "Or much of Sandover at all now."

He sat down on the floor next to Daxter. The thanks he'd given Samos just weeks ago sat sour in his stomach. The real person he should've thanked had been right there beside him and he'd overlooked him just like Samos always did.

"Daxter?" he said gravely, "Thank you. For everything. All of it. I wouldn't be here without you."

Daxter leaned against his shoulder. "Well duh," he joked, trying to lighten a somber moment, "Heroes don't leave their sidekicks with weirdos! It goes against the bro code!"

Then he sobered.

"For the record, I don't blame ya for not knowing he had his hooks in ya. He um. I mean, you were real little, y'know? I think you maybe stuck with him at first because he was the only familiar face, and he used that against ya."

Jak laughed bitterly. "I wonder if I'd have had the guts to say all that if he was actually here?"

Daxter recognized the beginning of a spiral and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Well he ain't! And we're not gonna will that into existence with what-ifs!"

He scurried up onto the bunk and spread out in the middle of the mattress.

"Ahhhh! Hey, are you gonna know which morph gun is ours when we get the key to that gun locker?"

Jak pushed him to one side and, after a moment's debate, unlaced his boots.

"The stock on mine looks striped because of all the tally marks on it. The others are completely blank."

"Oh! Didn't see that!"

Reluctantly, Jak took off his goggles and gauntlets and dropped them into the foot locker. At least if it didn't have a lock, he could get them back out at a moment's notice. His knife and amulet he kept on him.

The Call hadn't subsided. He still felt it, and he still didn't know what it meant. So for now, that seemed to mean staying in this hostel/barrack/orphanage combination with more Wastelanders than he'd ever known existed. At least they were Wastelanders and not soldiers. He would've slept on the streets before letting them put him in a dorm with soldiers.

The wall schedule said that the cafeteria didn't open until 6 bells after noon. That left roughly an hour before they could find out if they were allowed to take anything from it.

For a time, Jak occupied himself by polishing his channeling ring with his damp scarf. Daxter tried and failed to braid Jak's hair, but the condition it was in was just too poor.

"Pal," Daxter said reluctantly, "I don't think these mats are comin' out."

Jak sighed in resignation. He'd wanted to avoid this -- the only haircut he could remember had been a traumatic buzzcut because a KG accidentally spread bugs through the cell block -- and got himself a spot in the cell two doors down from Jak when the bugs spread to Errol. (Who was absolutely hideous with a buzz cut, and was in utter anguish about his "beautiful hair". Couldn't have happened to a nicer person. It had been the absolute highlight of Jak's entire year.)

Jak took his knife, sheath and all, from the back of his belt and held it out to Daxter.

"Do what you gotta do," he groaned, "Just don't cut it all off."

The roommate who wasn't on "home rotation", whatever that was, came back midway through the haircut. In his state of exhaustion, he didn't actually see Daxter.

"Your...hair is falling off," he mumbled in confusion.

"It's on purpose," Jak said.

"Oh."

Sam leaned against the door to pry off his boots, then blinked.

"Wait, what?"

"He's getting a haircut, doofus!" Daxter sniped.

"Ohhhhkay, the kangarat is talking." Sam dropped his boot and stared with very wide eyes. "Cooooolll coolcoolcool everything's cool."

"Ottsel, not rat," Jak corrected. "Daxter is sensitive about that."

"...uh-huh..."

Sam swung a gear bag up over the top of the top bunk bed post. With little effort, he swung himself up the ladder after it. Apparently he shared the bunk Jak had been assigned.

"Are you new? I don't remember you," he yawned.

"First day here," Jak admitted, "still dunno what's going on."

Silence for a few seconds. Then, "So...does that mean you came from Outside?"

"I guess? Don't know how I got here from Haven, but I'm not complaining."

"Oh."

Sudden Sam was leaning over the rail of the bunk, spiky blonde hair falling in his face.

"No kidding? Me too! I mean, I ran away from Kras, but. Stowed away on a cargo ship and got caught at the docks."

Kras. The name was familiar. Something to do with racing, but Jak hadn't been paying attention.

"So you planning on the Arena too?" asked Sam.

"I still don't know what the Arena is," Jak said pointedly. "Is it for races?"

"See, that's what I thought at first!" Sam exclaimed, "But apparently the only races they do in there are Leapers. It's kinda a community place? Big meetings, festivals, executions, games, theater, combat trials-"

"Festivals?" Jak was mildly intrigued.

"Executions?!" Daxter was not.

"Yeah man. Though to be fair, there's so many ways to die normally outside the walls that it takes a lot to get the death sentence around here. You have to do something really bad for Lord Damas to kill you himself. Like "engaged in the slave trade" or "abused a kid" or "betrayed the city to enemies" kind of bad. Stuff that dishonors a warrior's name for life. Otherwise he gives you a chance for pardon in combat trials."

Jak squinted up at their temporary roommate. "How...does that work, exactly?"

Sam rolled back onto his mattress with a noncommittal sound.

"Depends on whatcha did I think. Smaller offenses you gotta fight a metalhead. Bigger offenses get you more than one metalhead. If it's bad but not death sentence bad, you fight other Wastelanders who already know how you fight."

"Remind me not to get on these guys' bad sides," Daxter stage-whispered.

"So then why would I enter the Arena if I didn't do anything wrong?" Jak pushed.

"Oh yeah, that's the other thing. Civvy candidates who want to be permanent residents gotta prove they can survive the three main dangers of the Wasteland: enemy shooters, treacherous terrain, and lava. So the king makes us do combat trials simulating those conditions until he's satisfied that we won't like. Immediately die if he lets us outside."

Jak considered this for a moment.

"Fair enough," he decided.

"No??? It's not??" Daxter finished slicing off the last mat and gave Jak an appalled look. "Precisely none of that is normal!"

Jak swept the clumps of hair onto the floor and leaned back to let Daxter continue braiding what was left.

"So...you prove you can handle yourself, and they let you stay?"

Sam reappeared over the rail. "Well, you also gotta prove you're willing to work. They don't like lazy people out here, everybody does at least one thing that keeps Spargus operational, even if it's just sweeping the sand out of the stables -- which is about all they let me do on account of last time-"

"What happened last time?" Daxter asked as he finished tying off three fishbone-braids.

They could almost hear the wince.

"I...kind of...failed so hard at wall patching that I dropped an entire bucket of wet clay on a district representative. He got a concussion. It was bad."

There was a chagrined silence, but then Sam rallied. "So yeah, I'm not allowed near construction equipment anymore and I can't switch chores yet. All kids get maximum one job a day, but you get to pick what you do once you either turn nineteen, or get through the third trial."

Wheels were beginning to turn in Jak’s mind. He'd never given much thought to the future, but what if he just. Didn't go back to Haven? What if the crisis ended and he didn't go back? Might be nice to have a place like this on standby.

"So that what the grouch-in-chief said you're training for?" Daxter asked.

"Yep! Already got my first amulet and gun mod!" Sam said cheerfully. "First full trial hurts like a son-of-a-cob, but at least Scatter rounds are non-lethal."

"No they're not?" Jak sputtered.

"Yes they are?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Scatterguns are what they give kids and civvy candidates because it's not live ammo?"

"No," Jak argued, "You can definitely kill with Scatter rounds. It just takes like six shots."

Sam stared at him with wide eyes.

"What the rot, dude," he whispered.

"What?!"

"You're telling me you've killed people with a practice gun?!"

"Well- well Haven doesn't know they're practice guns!" Jak defended.

"Okay..." Sam grimaced. "Well. Don't do that in your first trial. Only way anyone is supposed to be able to die is if they try to prioritize hunting an opponent over avoiding lava."

"None of this is making me want to try this Arena thing!" Daxter complained.

"What's the second trial?" Jak ignored Daxter's complaints.

Sam looked a little unsure suddenly. "Yellow eco trial. That's um. That's going to be my first combat to the death. And not many candidates signed up for this month's trial so it's just me and three others against a Marauder crew they captured."

"Marauders?"

"Colonists from the mainland," Sam explained. "They're wannabe Wastelanders and I'm pretty sure they're all insane because they run around out there with no shirts, ever. They also run most of the slave trade between Haven and their colony."

Jak's eyes darkened.

"They're slavers?"

"Yep." Sam shuddered. "I've seen some of the survivors brought back when the Wastelanders raid their camps or when Marauder defectors start a riot. They've been through it. And like half the Arena Guard are survivors of the Marauders, so the ring isn't where you wanna end up if you're a blood merchant."

"It's not the guards they should worry about," Jak muttered darkly. Before Sam could ask what he meant, he looked up. "So if you get through three trials, then what?"

"Full rights as a citizen, same as if you were born here."

There was a glint in Jak’s eyes that only Daxter could see, and it Concerned him.

"Ja-aak, nooo-" Daxter groaned, but he knew it was useless.

"I'll go in with you, when they do the trial," Jak offered. "World could always use one less slaver."

"For real?" Sam raised his brows. "You've only been here a day, dude. You need to do some training before you're ready for that."

"Haven's an active warzone," Jak retorted, "and I got forced onto the frontlines for a year. I'll be fine."

"I mean. If you're sure," Sam relented, "I wouldn't mind the company."

"I would," Daxter grumbled under his breath. "I have some objections!"

So, it turned out, did Damas.

[pixelatedraindrops]

Yuma Month: Day 20: Truth

The truth…is uglier than you could have ever expected.

tw // vomit (spoilers too)

...happens only if he ate a meat bun prior to this

(all vomit in rain code is censored in pink glitter ✨)

based on this post I made long back

[cienie-isengardu]

Bi-Han & Kuai Liang and how they untied Kenshi

While making the last piece of my MK1 Behind the Scenes AU series, I was once again reminded about the similiarity between Bi-Han and Kuai Liang during Johnny Cage’s chapter. 

When Liu Kang ordered Bi-Han to free Kenshi, he did not use any blade but patiently worked on the knots to untie them. 

And yes, he has no knife on himself but he could easily form one with ice, not to mention freeze the rope and shatter it. But since this scene took place before Liu Kang’s burst of fire that ultimately convinced Johnny this is not some weird prank, the creators most likely decided to avoid using any supernatural elements. The big surprise needed to come from Fire Lord himself, which makes sense from the story's consequences of events. However in-universe, it made Bi-Han one of those people that would patiently work to untie knots rather than go with the easier way of cutting them (something I personally appreciate as I myself like to dissolve knots more than cutting through them).

But once Liu Kang’s burst of fire brought a change of the mood,

Kuai Liang when ordered to free Kenshi also didn't use the kunai to cut the ropes.

Which gives an interesting look at the brothers and their approach to fulfilling Fire Lord’s task. Here we need especially take into account that Scorpion was much more affected by Liu Kang’s show of power than his older brother - seen by the deep bow when Bi-Han barely showed remorse for the fight with Cage. Yet instead of using the kunai to free Kenshi as fast as possible as to not test further Liu Kang’s patience, the same as Bi-Han he choose to untie the ropes. Granted, Bi-Han most likely already did the most of the work, so Scorpion simply finished what was started but it still took him a while to free Kenshi.

This is a small detail, and one that does not play any bigger role in the grand schemes of things. However it helps to highlight how not so different brothers and their approach to task/problem is - especially at this early stage of game.

[mechazushi]

After the Fall {AN ACTUAL SHORT STORY THIS TIME} [Kaiju No. 8] (Could be considered as possible Ep11 spoilers; interpreted artistically)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Kafka Hibino." Captain Mina Ashiro started, "No. Kaiju Number Eight. I am taking you into custody." She leveled her gun to him. Her voice as steady as her hands, taking care not to let an ounce of sadness that had filled her soul melt her outward resolve. The companies were distraught and heavily wounded. Most of the infrastructure in the training area had been reduced to ash. An arched border line had been etched into the pavement around them. One side was mostly intact with spider cracks in various locations. The other side was a pale, dusty mess. No surface from the border and beyond was traversable with all of it being splintered, jutting, and uneven.

At the peak of the arch stood a half dissolved monster, melting back into a man. When the flecks peeled off and drifted into the remnants of the wind, a face began to emerge. Kafka Hibino, the former member of the Third Division had ousted himself as the elusive Kaiju Number Eight. He stood stone still, letting fragments of his alter form slough off as he never took his eyes off his captor. He wanted to think he knew what she was thinking, that this is just protocol, that there was no place in her heart that harbored ill will or intent. Mina wouldn't use her gun against him, right? They could still be friends, that he could still fight for his spot at her side.

He couldn't tell. Mina was unreadable as ever and Kafka couldn't blame her. He had been reprimanded enough times to know that this was just how she had to be in front of others in the Division. Her place wasn't a position where she was afforded the leeway to be physically emotional. Emotion was considered weakness, and she had to be strong for the others. To the officers, she was being seen as a strong captain, standing against a Daikaiju threat. It didn't matter that this was Kafka, that everyone had seen that it was Kafka who made a harrowing choice to save the lives of thousands. All they saw now was a monster, no matter how human and familiar its face was.

"Hoshina. I need you to cuff him." Captain Ashiro commanded. Hoshina heard, but was refusing to act. He couldn't bring himself to look at the situation in front of him. A man he trusted, a man he had considered as a friend and compatriot, was confirmed to be a threat to the world. Hoshina wasn't sure at the beginning what Kafka's circumstances were. He knew that things were off, but he chose to ignore them. The whole reason for letting Kafka join as a cadet was so Hoshina could investigate him, and he failed to do even that. All because he couldn't look past his smile. How could a man with a smile so bright and genuine ever be a threat to others. He didn't believe it, refused to believe it. He wasn't going to slap cuffs on a man that didn't have a threatening bone in his body.

But was he a man? Everyone saw Kafka gain impossible speed. They all saw Kafka, as a kaiju, blast into the sky and launched the bomb to a safer distance. Was Kafka a kaiju now because he was strong and dangerous? Or was he still a man because he understood sacrifice? Kaijus didn't need to deal with pesky feelings. They didn't have to worry about what others thought of them. All there was in kaiju minds was to eat and destroy. Kafka could express emotion, and has expressed desire outside of destruction. If Kafka knew that others would turn and run in fear if they knew what he was and what he could do, why did he do it anyway?

"Hoshina." Captain Ashiro commanded again, dislodging her Vice Captain from his thoughts. He still didn't want to do this, still choosing to believe in the man behind the monster's mask, but it wasn't a good idea to make the Captain repeat herself. Reaching into his side pouch, he dug up one of the plastic handcuffs that most officers are issued with. They were issued with the intent that defense members might encounter people taking the opportunity for ransacking during invasions and could preform arrests until the offender could be picked up by proper authorities. Hoshina walked up to Kafka and held the industrial zip-tie in his hands. Every neuron in his skull felt like it was screaming in retaliation, making his hands hesitate in the action of placing Kafka under physical arrest. He almost wanted to laugh. Did anyone here actually think that these meager restraints could hold back a person with a registered fortitude rating? Kafka slowly held out his wrists in front of him, looking like a toddler that was expecting a ruler to come down on them in punishment.

"It's okay. I know." Kafka whispered imperceptibly to him. His head was bowed solemnly, but he looked at Hoshina as his face remained ever reassuring. He almost felt like slapping the look off of him. How dare he act like this. How dare he try to be apologetic and caring for others in this situation. Why couldn't he be an asshole and run, fight, do anything to save himself. For god's sake, why can't he be selfish. Having to deal with a daikaiju on the loose would have been less gut wrenching than having to send a fellow soldier to an uncertain fate.

"Captain Ashiro, I can explain-" Reno Ichikawa was shouting as he came barreling over the fallen debris as nimbly as possible. Following behind at a much slower pace was Kikoru Shinomiya.

"Save it Officer Ichikawa!" Ashiro barked at him, "Telling by your outburst at this time of all places, tells me you have some knowledge on this as well." she holstered her side arm now that Kafka had been successfully restrained.

"You too, Shinomiya. Hoshina told me about his suspicions about how you managed to neutralize the honju at the acceptance trials earlier this year and with you showing up behind Ichikawa here, I can assume that you're in on this too." She began to wordlessly direct those around her and made moves to stand behind Kafka and Hoshina.

"Okonogi, send several vehicles over to the training area. We have multiple wounded and a lot of tired soldiers that I think would rather drive than walk back to barracks. Leader Ebina, gather some of your people and start marking a path through the rubble so we can transport the wounded."

"Roger that, Captain. Do you want me to send an armored vehicle for Kaiju Number Eight?" replied Okonogi. Captain Ashiro looked hard at Kafka, now back to appearing completely human and in the plastic cuffs. Hoshina was looking right at the captain. Blood had stopped dripping down his face minutes ago, but it was still clear that he wasn't in any shape to fight anything more powerful than a mouse right now. She took in the fact that his hands were placed gently on top of Kafka's limply curled fists, a sight that Kafka couldn't pull his eyes away from.

"No. Leave the armored vehicle for now. We might need it to be fueled and stocked for whatever happens tomorrow." Ashiro replied back after serious consideration. With most of the Division looking the way it did, and the person most capable of going head to head with a daikaiju of small size looking like death warmed over, she acknowledged the fact that Kafka; or Kaiju Number Eight, she hadn't stopped her brain from fluctuating between the two, hadn't taken the opportunity to bolt for the hills. She figured if he was going to try anything, he would have as soon as she leveled her sidearm at him. In the bright moonlight over head, she could see the person she once considered a friend chuckle noticeably.

"Thanks for that, Captain Ashiro. Those trucks don't have the best air condi-"

"Save it. I don't want to hear another word from you tonight." Captain Ashiro commanded. She could clearly see the word's effect on him as he visibly flinched at her sharp tone. As the officers around her got into position and steadied their hands on their rifles, she pointed her finger off over Hoshina's shoulder, indicating that they should start moving. Kafka's feet regretfully began to shuffle around to face the direction he was supposed to go in, but when he tried to take an actual step he hissed loudly and nearly collapsed to his knees onto the pavement. Hoshina didn't think for a second as he rushed forward to catch him before he landed, propping himself under Kafka's broad chest and grabbing his shoulder to keep him balanced. The chorus of six safety switches all clicking off in unison could be heard behind the two of them.

"Shit- Sorry, sorry! Knees were locked." Kafka said, glancing over his and Hoshina's connected bodies.

"Sorry." He added, seemingly addressed to no one in particular.

'Maybe that was addressed to all of us.' Hoshina thought as he helped Kafka readjust to his feet. Once he felt okay enough to walk, he began to move forward at a sluggish pace. It was clear to Hoshina that he wasn't walking slow on purpose, and that it really must have taken a lot out of him to propel himself into the air and sucker punch a twenty kiloton yoju bomb into the lower stratosphere. Hoshina kept a hand on Kafka's upper back as he gently guided him through the path Ebina's team had marked earlier. With the moment they were in being as quiet as possible, save for the occasional echoing crash of broken rubble hitting the ground all around them, Hoshina took a second to think.

'I mean, when you think about it, that should be enough to knock the wind out of anyone capable of doing that in that sort of situation.' He stunned himself with the words in his head. How could he even try and logic out what a man with the power of turning into a Kaiju was even qualified to accomplish? This whole situation was absurd and he hated it. He hated everything in that moment. He hated Kafka for putting himself in danger, he hated Captain Ashiro knowing she was only doing her job, he hated himself because he was the one who told Kafka not to get attached to others on the job because God only knows what could happen and here he was, feeling attached knowing damn well that he was going to feel like shit because he was basically loosing the best damn thing this Division had going for it!

Hoshina couldn't writhe in his personal hell for much longer as the group had made it to the busted doors of the training grounds. The remnants of his fight with Kaiju Number Ten as well as debris from the explosion had all been pushed to the sides as best as possible. A few tents had been erected to preform triage and separate the barely scratched from the mortally wounded and treat them appropriately. A rotating convoy of open air trucks and military jeeps were set up at the far end of the street carrying the tired and lightly wounded to somewhere else on base for rest, if it was available for most. All activity seemed to slow, almost stopping in some areas as Kafka led his paltry parade showcasing his imprisonment through the masses. It almost felt like a display of a man being condemned. Okonogi pulled ahead of the line in her own commandeered jeep and pulled it to a stop in front of Kafka and Ashiro. The captain told the six behind her to grab a vehicle for themselves and follow close behind, before wordlessly hopping into the passenger seat of the car. As Hoshina hopped in the exposed backseat, he could hear Kafka groan and hiss as he settled into the spot on the bench next to him.

"Hssssss, haaaa, hoooo. Wow, sitting down. A novel idea. Who knew?" Kafka talked exhaustedly as he fumbled with the lap belt using his restrained hands.

"Miss Okonogi, not to presumptuously assume your driving skills, but you mind being careful and avoiding potholes and barricades on the way to my cell. I'm gonna take a nap." Kafka's head slumped unceremoniously against the metal bar framing the back of the jeep and immediately started to breath heavily, almost as if he was asleep already. His closed eyes meant he didn't get to see Mina's irritated glare she sent his way before she took the clipboard that Okonogi brought with her. Hoshina rested his elbow against the car's sidewall and placed his face in his hand, staring at an unaware Kafka.

'He's asleep. This no good, dirty, rotten, lying, mutant Kaiju bastard is asleep?' Hoshina thought angrily. As he felt the car move forward and tuned out Captain Ashiro and Okonogi's conversation, he realized all he could think about in that moment was him.

'A man saves an entire base and this is how we thank him.' Hoshina's inner monologue continued. He knew he wasn't the only one here who felt like this, and when the news got out in the morning he was sure lots of others were going to have mixed feelings on this as well. Arresting him was for the best, he knew that as well. Good intentions or no, human or no, it didn't change the fact that Kafka can become a kaiju. The whole purpose of the Divisions was to eliminate kaijus. The fact that Kafka was allowed to breathe, let alone sitting in the back of a car with the two most powerful people on base at rock bottom of their best, spoke volumes about how crazy and fucked up these circumstances were. Protocol was kill on sight, and Kafka knows this. Yet here he was, sleeping the rest of his freedom away.

'It wouldn't be hard, either.' Hoshina thoughts continued, 'I may not be able to put up a good fight at the moment, but we can assume he's mostly human right now. He's asleep and tired, which means he's vulnerable' He played with the tip of the handle connected to his sword. 'I could end it all for him right now and he wouldn't be wiser.'

But he wouldn't. Hoshina couldn't lay any hand on him with deadly and harmful intent behind it, now and forever. Monster or Human, it didn't matter anymore. Nothing could ever change the fact that Hoshina had one percent of trust in this man right now. And he wondered if Kafka could feel that too, because why else could he be so blissfully asleep right now.

'He's not going to be like that for long.' Hoshina thought bitterly. The protocol was kill on sight for honju and yoju, yes, but that stopped at daikaiju. they were killed like any other threat, but whatever that was left of the body after the fight was sent off for research. Research and experimentation. Hoshina knew that it was a snowball's chance in hell that the leaders of the Defense Force were just going to let them keep Kafka on base, but were they going to let Kafka stay alive and intact? Hoshina could feel his heart be poisoned and start to cramp up at the thought. He had to look away for a moment , lest tears started to mix with the blood and stain his cheeks even more. It took several sharp breaths and a solid minute of mental filing to help his chest feels normal again.

Hoshina tried to take another look at the mystery that was his fellow soldier. A face as still as a forest pond, covered in already healed scratches. Light from the moon created soft shadows on his eyelids and neck. flickering and shifting in tandem with the shakes and jolts coming from the moving jeep. His worker's tan looking more pronounced than it usually did. Kafka looked stoic and peaceful, which created a stark contrast to the unearthly and demonic visage Hoshina has associated with Kaiju Number Eight. It was an awful situation Hoshina found himself in.

On one hand, he wanted to come across the bench and hold him. Whisper calmly in his ear that everything was going to be okay. That he won't have to worry about whatever that's going to come for him in the morning. On the other hand, he wanted to be the one that was being held. To have all those sweet and empty promises whispered back at him, to be told that things would be fine for him too. Kafka won't have to leave the base, that this whole kaiju transformation business was just the concussion talking, and the base will be back to operational in no time at all.

None of those things were going to happen. The base reconstruction was going to take forever, Kafka was going to have to leave, and nothing was going to be fine. Hoshina turned away again, feeling the chest tightening again and wanted to keep his tears to himself for the time being. He couldn't cry now because there was a superior officer present and didn't also want to wake Kafka. He couldn't cry in the morning because he needed to be strong in the face of whatever decision that was to come down on his officer's head. As the first shifts of color indicative of the approaching dawn began to brighten the night sky, Hoshina tamped down every bit of emotion he had to let out later into the first few minutes of however much sleep he was going to get in those twilight hours.

This was going to be a rough few months, wasn't it?

[lilaccatholic]

Physically I'm here but mentally I'm clawing the eyes out of everyone who talks crap about their children on the internet and posts them in their most vulnerable moments for clout

[howdaretrashships]

How well do you have to know someone that you recognize them at first glance, even though: you haven’t seen them in 10 years, and they’re using Bone Construction Skill to disguise themselves as a child?

Asking for a friend.

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

i decided to try to watch sex and the city from the beginning and i think the reason i struggle with this show is that it's always like "ladies, you know how [insert thing that's supposed to be relatable here]?" and i'm always just like, "........... no"

[thebraxiatelcollection]

This new layout on the big finish is hideous.

[firelise]

Film & TV I Think About A Lot » Nope (2022) dir. Jordan Peele

"Fuckin' praying mantis. That motherfucker better pray I don't never see him, 'cause if I do... I'm gonna eat em."

[randomnameless]

AG AU where Billy is recruited, ignores Jerry and hangs out with those people who look like the gremlin in his head (who apparently logged off their mind otherwise the plot wouldn't work).

The shady lady Jeralt always told them to watch out for has a strange hat, but she talks to them and even said she enjoys spending time with them, even if they don't say a thing or eat a strange fruit together. Sometimes she talks about their mom, a woman called Sitri, and recalls stories and anecdotes and Billy feels closer to the mother they never met than to Jeralt.

(then Billy felt immensely wrong and guilty, because they are the reason why Sitri isn't alive anymore and is it their fault? Jerry drunkily said Sitri died to birth them, it's as if they killed her :( - the shady and evil lady then hugs them - it's so awkward for the both of them but Billy feels so strange and they hug the evil lady back, crying for the first time, and they cry even more when the evil lady tells them Sitri would never have wanted them to feel sad about her fate because she chose their life over hers (she still doesn't tell them about the magic rock).)

The young lady who loves to talk about romance and to ask them how was the world they saw was saddened when they told her they don't like to be called Ashen Demon - so she calls them Billy, and gives them a new nickname : "Big Tuna", because they can catch a lot of fishes.

Billy found this nickname so ridiculous, but was happy to have something else, that they laughed, and from now introduced themselves as "Big Tuna".

The "not-fun" man who always frowns, well, frowns but often asks them to help him "supervise" stuff here and there - but he is different from Jeralt, because when Billy does something he thanks and congratulates them - saying it is important to convey his gratitude for the help he received through Billy's actions, which leaves Billy puzzled - what even are thanks? They grow more and more puzzled when some randoms, from kids to knights to monks to random persons thank them, and they finally ask the "not-fun" man if they could continue making people smile after the war.

Seteth is surprised, but nods : if they want, when the war will be over, they could join a place called Garreg Mach, to help and make people smile all around Fodlan.

(Jerry returns from a two weeks long mission, and sees his kid eating an inedible fruit with Rhea and her clique, sitting a on magically warmed rock, and now Billy call themselves "Big Tuna" and say they want to make people smile by helping not by killing anymore, just like their Mother did before, and even now after, her death.)

Post AG when the war is over : Billy joins Garreg Mach and learns Faith magic to heal people (without charging them a fee!) and becomes the fishing instructor of Garreg Mach, thus becomes popular with the students who leanr how to focus and how "it is important to rest. And please, try not to drop your belongings on the floor."

[hearts4pearlescentmoon]

Did you ever need to read something so bad you fucking WRITHE with agony when you realize you probably will never be able to?

i was trying to find the sone with the indent on the wall and the guy bleeding out of its forehead but I couldn’t find it