#pregnant with an explosive device...

[driverlando]

✧.* FAMILY FIRST

synopsis- In which Charles and Y/n have had enough of the paparazzi standing outside their house

before you continue: it’s been a while since I did anything for Charles, I missed this! If you enjoyed this then please reblog and give me a follow! <3

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✧.* Charles has had enough

You glanced out the window, your heart sinking as you saw the familiar sight: a cluster of paparazzi, cameras flashing like distant lightning, capturing moments of your private lives for public consumption. You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of their intrusion settle heavily on you shoulders. Another day, another invasion of your sanctuary.

Charles entered the room, his footsteps heavy with frustration as he followed your gaze to the window. “Again?” he muttered through clenched teeth, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“They just won’t leave us alone,” you said softly, your voice tinged with weariness as you absentmindedly rubbed your pregnant belly, the new life within a poignant reminder of your need for peace and privacy.

Charles kissed your forehead tenderly, a silent reassurance before he strode purposefully outside. His jaw was set in determination as he approached the nearest photographer, who greeted him with a mocking smirk.

“Hey, dude! Got any news for us?” the paparazzi taunted, his camera clicking away relentlessly.

Charles’s temper flared, a surge of protective instinct coursing through him. In one swift movement, he closed the distance, snatching the camera from the man’s hands with a firm grip. “I’ve had enough of this,” he growled, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority. With a forceful gesture, he tossed the device to the ground, the clatter of impact punctuating his frustration.

The photographer stumbled back, momentarily taken aback by Charles’s sudden assertiveness. His eyes widened in surprise as Charles stood tall and unwavering, his presence commanding respect. “Get out of here,” Charles commanded, his tone brooking no argument, his stance a formidable barrier against further intrusion.

The paparazzi hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes before he begrudgingly began to retreat, muttering under his breath as he moved away. Charles watched him go, a mix of relief and lingering tension evident in his posture, before he turned back to you.

“We’ll figure this out,” you reassured him gently, her touch a soothing balm against the raw edges of his frustration as you placed a comforting hand on his arm.

Charles sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility for their family’s well-being pressing heavily on him. Pulling you close, he buried his face in your hair, his cheek resting against yours. “I just want our family to have some peace,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with a mixture of longing and determination.

You stood together in the quiet of your home, finding solace in each other’s presence amidst the turmoil.

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✧.* the boys show their support

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charles_leclerc

liked by lewishamilton, yourusername and 156,478 others

charles_leclerc To the tabloids and paparazzi lurking outside: here’s your exclusive! a never seen before picture of me holding my son for the first time, hopefully this will stop you from spending day and night outside my house.

view all 14,628 comments

yourusername well they’ll have no choice but to leave us alone after the lawsuit 🫢

user1 omg crazy how this was 3 years ago and now yall are having another baby 🥹

user2 dad Charles is everything to me

user3 im glad they have gained some control, hopefully the paps leave

landonorris cutest baby (I’m not talking about you Charles)

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Charles Leclerc’s Explosive Confrontation with Paparazzi: A Battle for Privacy

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In a gripping saga that has captured public attention, Formula One star Charles Leclerc and his influencer wife Y/N Y/L/N have found themselves embroiled in a fierce confrontation with paparazzi over their family’s privacy. The couple’s determination to protect their young son and their unborn child has led to heated exchanges, a broken camera, and a looming lawsuit against intrusive photographers.

The First Signs of Trouble

The tension reached a boiling point when Y/N tweeted a stark warning to the paparazzi:

“Hey paparazzi, here’s a tip: stop scaring my son. Respect our privacy or lawyer up.”

Charles Leclerc, known for his calm demeanor on the race track, showed a different side of himself by retweeting her post with his own impassioned message:

“I’ve reached my limit. It’s exhausting having to explain to my 3-year-old son why there are grown men waiting outside our house with big cameras. Please respect our privacy or be prepared to deal with the consequences. Nothing matters more to me than my family’s peace and security, and it’s my duty as a father and husband to shield them from any intrusion, especially now that my wife is pregnant.”

Forced to Reveal the Pregnancy

The couple, who had hoped to keep the news of their pregnancy private for as long as possible, felt compelled to make an announcement after the initial confrontation. The public reaction was overwhelmingly supportive, with fans expressing outrage at the paparazzi’s disregard for the family’s privacy.

Despite the couple’s plea for respect, the relentless paparazzi returned a few days later, once again besieging their home. The situation reached a critical point when Charles, frustrated and protective of his family, confronted the photographers and broke one of their cameras.

Charles’s Bold Statement on Instagram

In a bold move to address the paparazzi directly, Charles posted a poignant message on Instagram alongside a never-before-seen photo of him holding his son for the first time:

“To the tabloids and paparazzi lurking outside: here’s your exclusive! A never seen before picture of me holding my son for the first time, hopefully this will stop you from spending day and night outside my house.”

The post quickly went viral, with fans and fellow celebrities rallying behind Charles and Y/N, applauding their courage and condemning the paparazzi’s invasive behavior.

Legal Action Looms

Y/N followed up with a decisive announcement that the couple would be pursuing legal action against the photographers:

“We have had enough. Our privacy has been violated, our son has been scared, and our peace has been disrupted. We are taking legal steps to ensure this stops. Thank you to everyone who has supported us and respected our privacy.”

The news of the lawsuit has added another layer to this dramatic story, highlighting the ongoing struggle between celebrities seeking privacy and the relentless pursuit of paparazzi.

Public and Celebrity Support

The public reaction has been largely supportive, with social media flooded with messages of solidarity. Fellow drivers and celebrities have also spoken out, condemning the paparazzi’s actions and expressing their support for Charles and Y/N.

Carlos Sainz tweeted, “Absolutely unacceptable behavior from the paparazzi and it needs to be stopped. Charles and Y/N deserve to share their happy news on their own terms and to live their lives without being hassled. Congrats on the baby, my friends!”

Lewis Hamilton chimed in with, “Proud of @/Charles_Leclerc and @/YourUsername for standing up for their family. Privacy should be respected. Congrats on the new addition ❤️”

Moving Forward

As Charles and Y/N prepare for the arrival of their new baby, they continue to advocate for their right to privacy, setting a powerful example for other public figures facing similar challenges. Their story underscores the importance of respecting personal boundaries, even for those in the public eye.

This ongoing battle between the Leclercs and the paparazzi serves as a stark reminder of the toll that media intrusion can take on a family’s peace and well-being. As the lawsuit unfolds, it will be a pivotal moment not only for Charles and Y/N but for the broader conversation about privacy and respect in the age of instant celebrity.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

[padmestrilogy]

i will say. even before shmi was tortured to death, even if you don't process the harsh slave labor or literal implanted explosive device to keep her from running away, shmi is a body horror character because her pregnancy is not consensual. obviously lucas is recalling mary and her immaculate conception but mary was TOLD what was going to happen. she was told she was carrying the child of the lord. that is an essential part of the story. and shmi was not!! she just woke up one day and was pregnant. she didn't know anything about the force. she probably knew next to nothing about pregnancy. she had to carry and give birth in the unimaginable conditions of slavery, with no idea what was happening to her . that's the kind of fear i don't think could ever be tackled properly in a kids movie (esp with it's real world parallels) but that it's not even discussed in fandom is unfortunate

[ginxyy]

On His Knees for Love

Seven months apart, but their connection never faded. When you walks back into Mingyu’s life, desire and regret collide in an explosive reunion. Will passion be enough to mend what was broken?

The bass reverberates through the walls of the club, every beat thundering in your chest like the memories of him, of Mingyu. It has been seven months since your world shattered, seven months since laughter turned into angry words, and love faded into silence. Still, as you step into the dim-lit room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you. The smell of sweet cocktails mingles with the scent of hair product and cologne, creating an intoxicating air that feels both foreign and familiar.

Your eyes scan the crowd, searching for a flicker of warmth, a trace of the bond you once shared. Moments slip by, but then you see him Mingyu, with his effortless charisma, surrounded by the vibrant energy of his bandmates. His laughter rises above the cacophony of music, a melody that once made your heart dance. He seems happy, relaxed, flirty with a group of girls whose faces are unfamiliar to you. Each smile he throws carries a dagger of jealousy into your chest, but you can’t look away. How is it that he feels so far yet still belongs to every inch of your heart?

A knot of longing intertwines with disbelief as you watch him joking, leaning into the casual touch of the girls beside him. How can he laugh so easily, when your heart is such a heavy weight? The shadow of your past flickers, reminding you of the countless nights he spent holding you close, whispering sweet nothings beneath the stars. Just then, as if sensing your gaze, he tilts his head, the light catching his features, and for a moment, the world seems to slow down. But he doesn’t see you.

Fingers trembling with uncertainty, you pull out your phone, the familiar weight of the device suddenly feeling like an anchor tethered to memories you keep trying to release. A pang of impulsiveness pushes you forward, typing out a message that speaks the ache buried within you: “I need you. Bathroom. Right now.”

Your heart races as you hit send, watching the screen as if it holds your fate. Moments later, the “typing…” indicator blinks before he responds with a single word: “Coming.” A rush of adrenaline surges through you, lifting the heaviness in your chest momentarily. You know he will come; it’s the instinct of those who have shared so much. The seconds stretch into eternity as you push through the crowded club, your heart pounding like a drum, your breath quickening.

You slip into the bathroom, the low hum of music fading behind the thick door. The walls here are grimy, the air pregnant with the scent of fading perfume and anxiety. You glance at yourself in the mirror, your reflection almost a stranger. It’s been hard to define who you are without him he other half of your heart, the comfortable warmth that felt like home.

The door swings open, and there he is Mingyu. He stands tall and striking, so impossibly handsome in the flickering light. For a moment, you are both just two souls caught in a moment, the silence between you humming with unspoken words. But the connection you shared ripples beneath the surface. His eyes widen, surprise flickering momentarily before concern brushes across his features.

“Hey,” he starts, stepping forward as if to reach for you. Yet, something raw surges within an ache that demands to be addressed, a need that goes beyond conversation. The air crackles around you, filled with the tension of emotions long unresolved.

“Stop,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but commanding enough to halt him in his tracks. “Get on your knees.” With that, you feel a rush of power, taking control in a way you hadn’t expected. He hesitates only for a heartbeat before he obeys, his demeanor shifting, submission softening the harsh edges of the breakup that separated you.

Mingyu drops to his knees, his height making him imposing even in submission. His wide, doe-like eyes look up at you, filled with a mixture of hesitation and yearning. It’s as if he knows he’s teetering on the edge of something irreversible. His lips part slightly, and you catch the faintest tremble in his jaw, a vulnerability that ignites something feral in you. You tilt your chin up, every ounce of pain and longing you’ve bottled up now sharpened into control.

“Is this how you imagined our reunion?” you ask coldly, your voice dripping with disdain. His hands hover uncertainly at his thighs, as if he doesn’t dare reach for you without permission.

“I—” he starts, but you cut him off with a sharp glare.

“Don’t speak unless I tell you to,” you command. The authority in your tone surprises even you, but it feels good, intoxicating. You finally have the power in a relationship where he had once dominated your thoughts and emotions.

Mingyu’s head lowers slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, but his submission is palpable. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, almost like a prayer.

“Sorry?” You let out a humorless laugh, circling him like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re sorry? Do you know how many nights I cried myself to sleep because of you? How worthless you made me feel?”

His hands clench into fists, his knuckles brushing the sticky floor of the bathroom. “I know. I—”

“Did I say you could talk?” You cut him off again, your words slicing through the tension. He immediately closes his mouth, his breath shallow as he waits for your next move.

“Good boy,” you murmur, a cruel edge to your praise. You step closer, your fingers gripping his chin tightly, forcing him to look up at you. “If you’re really sorry, you’ll prove it. With your mouth. Now.”

His pupils dilate, and without hesitation, he leans forward, his hands instinctively reaching for your thighs. You slap them away.

“Did I say you could touch me?” you snap.

“No,” he mumbles, his voice trembling. “I’m sorry.”

“Hands behind your back. You’ll only use your mouth.”

Mingyu complies instantly, clasping his hands behind him as he leans in, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh. His kisses are tentative at first, testing, as if seeking forgiveness with every soft press of his mouth. You push his head closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him whimper.

“Pathetic,” you hiss. “Is this how you kissed them, too? Those girls at this club?”

His eyes widen in alarm, shaking his head desperately, his words muffled against your skin. “No, no one else, I swear only you,” he pleads between kisses, his voice barely audible.

“Prove it,” you demand.

Mingyu doesn’t waste another second. His tongue moves expertly, and you hate how easily he remembers exactly what you like. The warmth of his mouth against you sends shockwaves through your body, your breath hitching despite your resolve to stay composed. You tug his hair harder, forcing him to look up at you while his mouth remains perfectly obedient.

“That’s it,” you murmur, your voice softening briefly before hardening again. “Don’t stop until I say so.”

His eyes glaze over with devotion, and he doubles down, his tongue working you over with precision. You feel your legs tremble slightly, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how close you are.

“Such a good little toy when you’re like this,” you mock, grinding against his eager mouth. He groans in response, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. “Is this what you wanted all along? To be on your knees for me?”

“Yes,” he gasps when you momentarily pull away, his face slick, lips swollen. “I’ll do anything. Please, just let me make it up to you. Let me make you feel good.”

Your laugh is cruel, but it masks the way your pulse races. “You think this is enough? Do better.”

His desperation fuels him, and he adds his fingers into the mix, slipping two inside you while his tongue continues its relentless assault. You bite your lip, fighting back a moan, but the way he curls his fingers and finds that perfect rhythm makes it impossible.

“Faster,” you order, and he obeys without question, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to push you over the edge. The control you thought you had slips through your fingers as the heat coils tighter in your core, and before you can stop it, a cry escapes your lips.

Mingyu groans against you, his pace unrelenting as you ride out your release, your body trembling from the intensity. When you finally pull away, he looks up at you, his chest heaving, his mouth still glistening with evidence of his devotion.

“Did I do good?” he asks softly, his voice filled with hope and submission.

You tilt your head, studying him for a moment before smirking. “You’re getting there,” you reply coolly, your heart still racing. “But you’ve got a lot more to make up for, Mingyu. Don’t think this is over.”

“Yes,” he breathes, nodding eagerly. “Anything for you.”

And as you adjust your dress, watching him kneel before you like the perfect picture of remorse and desire, you realize you’re not ready to let him go not yet.

Weeks pass, and you make a point to ignore every text and call from Mingyu. His messages vary some are desperate pleas, others apologies, and a few simply asking if you’re okay. Each time his name flashes on your screen, your resolve hardens. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of your attention, not yet. You want him to feel the emptiness you’ve been carrying, to yearn for you the way you’ve ached for him.

But tonight, something shifts. Maybe it’s the loneliness that creeps in during quiet moments, or perhaps it’s the memory of his hands trembling as he tried to prove his devotion in the club bathroom. Whatever it is, you find yourself walking into his practice session unannounced.

The room buzzes with the sound of his bandmates tuning instruments, laughter echoing as they mess around. Mingyu is standing in the center, his back to you, laughing at something one of them said. He looks good too good. The sight of him stirs a mix of anger and longing in your chest.

The room quiets as soon as the door slams shut behind you. All eyes turn to you, confusion and curiosity written across their faces. Mingyu freezes, his laughter dying mid-syllable. When he turns and sees you, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as if to say something but no words come out.

You don’t give him a chance to speak. You stride up to him with purpose, grab the front of his shirt, and pull him into a kiss. It’s rough, possessive, and leaves no room for misinterpretation. His bandmates gasp, the sound of someone dropping a drumstick punctuating the silence. Mingyu melts into the kiss almost instantly, his hands hovering uncertainly near your waist as if he’s afraid to touch you.

You break the kiss abruptly, your eyes locking onto his. “Come with me,” you say firmly, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the room. The stunned silence behind you is almost as satisfying as the way Mingyu stumbles to keep up with your pace.

The two of you end up in a small storage closet just down the hall, the air thick with the scent of cleaning supplies and dust. You push him against the wall, your hands gripping his hips to keep him in place. Before he can even catch his breath, you’re on your knees in front of him, your fingers deftly undoing his belt.

“Wait, what ” he starts, his voice cracking, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

“Don’t talk,” you snap. “Just stay still.”

His breath hitches as you free him from his jeans, and the sheer need in his eyes makes you smirk. Without hesitation, you take him into your mouth, your hands gripping his thighs to keep him steady. Mingyu lets out a strangled moan, his head falling back against the wall as his hands clutch uselessly at the air, unsure of where to put them.

“Oh, my God,” he gasps, his voice shaking. “You you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You hum around him in response, the vibration making his knees buckle slightly. His hands eventually find your hair, but he’s careful not to push, his fingers threading through the strands as if to anchor himself. His hips jerk forward involuntarily, and you pull back just enough to glare up at him.

“Don’t move,” you warn, your voice low and commanding.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll be good I promise. Please don’t stop.”

You take him even deeper, your movements deliberate and unrelenting. Mingyu’s moans grow louder, more desperate, his usual composure completely shattered. He starts babbling, his words spilling out in a chaotic mess of apologies and confessions.

“I love you,” he chokes out, his voice breaking. “I love you so much. I need you—I can’t I can’t do this without you. Please please come back to me.”

Tears slip down his cheeks as he nears his breaking point, his body trembling under your control. You feel his release building, and when it finally hits, he cries out your name, his entire body going rigid as he falls apart in your hands.

You give him a moment to recover before standing up, wiping your mouth with a smug grin. Mingyu looks utterly wrecked his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen, and his eyes glassy with a mixture of pleasure and emotion. You lean in and kiss him softly, your lips lingering against his as you murmur, “Come over tonight.”

Before he can respond, you step back, smoothing your clothes as if nothing happened. You open the door and shove him back into the practice room, where his bandmates are still staring in stunned silence. Mingyu stumbles slightly, his disheveled appearance drawing wide-eyed looks from everyone in the room.

“See you tonight,” you call over your shoulder, winking at him before walking out. The door swings shut behind you, leaving a ruined, lovesick Mingyu in your wake.

Mingyu stumbles back into the practice room, his face still flushed, hair a mess, and shirt slightly untucked. The room is silent for a moment before his bandmates erupt in a cacophony of confusion.

“What the hell was that?” one of them demands, his drumsticks clattering to the floor as he gapes at Mingyu.

“Did she just what what’s going on?” another chimes in, his wide eyes darting between Mingyu and the door you had just walked out of.

Mingyu raises a hand as if to calm them, but he’s just as shaken. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he stammers, running a trembling hand through his hair. “She just she kissed me, and then…”

“And then you left with her and came back looking like that?”

“Dude, you’re a mess,” someone mutters. “Is this the same ex you haven’t shut up about for months? Are you two back together or… what?”

“I don’t know!” Mingyu bursts out, his voice cracking. He swallows hard, his mind racing. “I mean, I hope so. I think so. She told me to come over tonight.”

“That doesn’t sound like reconciliation to me. That sounds like you’re in trouble,” one of his bandmates teases, but there’s a note of seriousness in his voice. “You’ve been miserable without her. Don’t screw this up, man.”

Mingyu doesn’t even respond. He grabs his bag and bolts out of the practice room, his heart pounding as he heads home to shower and prepare. By the time he’s standing at your door, he’s a nervous wreck.

He raises his hand to knock, hesitates, and then finally raps his knuckles against the wood. The door swings open, and the sight of you steals the air from his lungs.

You’re wearing his favorite lingerie a delicate set he always loved on you, the sheer fabric accentuating every curve. The soft glow of light from your apartment frames you perfectly, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe.

Mingyu’s legs give out, and he drops to his knees right there in the doorway. His hands clutch at your thighs as he looks up at you with tear-filled eyes. “Please,” he chokes out, his voice trembling. “Please, I can’t do this anymore. I love you I’ve always loved you. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… please, come back to me.”

You stroke his hair softly, letting him pour his heart out as tears spill down his cheeks. His vulnerability tugs at something deep within you, but you maintain your composure, the power dynamic firmly in your hands.

“Come to my room,” you say softly, stepping aside to let him in.

Mingyu scrambles to his feet and follows you like a lost puppy, his heart racing as you lead him to your bedroom. The air is thick with tension, and as soon as the door clicks shut behind him, you push him onto the bed. He looks up at you with wide, adoring eyes, his lips parted as he tries to catch his breath.

“Stay there,” you command, climbing onto the bed to straddle him.

His hands instinctively find your waist, but you grab his wrists and pin them above his head. “You don’t touch me unless I say so,” you warn.

“Yes,” he breathes, his voice barely audible. “Anything you want.”

You lower yourself onto him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitches and his muscles tense beneath you. His head falls back against the pillow, a broken moan escaping his lips as you begin to move.

“You missed this, didn’t you?” you taunt, leaning down to bite at his neck. “You missed being mine.”

“I did,” he gasps, his voice shaking. “I missed you so much. I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—”

“Shh,” you whisper, cutting him off with a kiss that leaves him even more breathless.

You ride him relentlessly, your movements driving him to the edge over and over again, only to pull back just before he can fall. He’s a mess beneath you, his hair sticking to his damp forehead, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he begs for release.

“Please,” he whimpers, his voice cracking. “Please, I need you—I can’t—”

But you’re not done with him yet. You pull away, sliding up his body to sit on his face. His hands twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t dare move without your permission.

“Make me cum,” you order, and he obeys without hesitation.

His tongue works expertly, and you lose yourself in the sensation, your fingers tangling in his hair as you ride out your first orgasm. But you don’t stop there. You move back down to straddle him again, taking him inside you once more and using him until the tension coiled in your core snaps again.

By the time you’ve reached your third climax, Mingyu is barely holding it together. His body trembles beneath you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he holds onto the last threads of his control.

“Cum for me,” you finally whisper, and that’s all it takes. He lets out a loud, broken moan, his body shuddering as he spills inside you.

You collapse onto his chest, both of you panting heavily as the aftershocks of your passion fade. For a while, neither of you speaks, the only sound in the room the soft hum of your breathing.

Finally, you lift your head to look at him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re my once in a lifetime,” you say softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I would be stupid to let this go fully. We can work on us forever and always.”

Tears well up in Mingyu’s eyes again, and he pulls you into a kiss that’s soft and full of unspoken promises. For the first time in months, it feels like the two of you are whole again.

[greenfiend]

Will Byers, the Atomic Bomb

So I've already talked about this in my Enola Gay post. But now I have more evidence and thoughts.

Basically my post was about how the writers are comparing Will to the atomic bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. The bomb was called "Little Boy" and was carried on an aircraft called "Enola Gay". Enola Gay is the name of the mother of the pilot, she was "pregnant with an explosive device". After the bomb dropped, time pieces were frozen and essentially stuck in time at exactly: 8:15. “Enola Gay” was also a 80s song about the atomic bomb that was considered a gay anthem.

The mention of a "shed" during the “fancy bomb” scene is very specific and intentional. The shed was where Will was last seen before he vanished...

Was Will a ticking time bomb that eventually dropped on Nov 6, 1983… forever changing Hawkins?

If we are talking about chronological history too, it works well because the atomic bombs were what ended WWII, which was followed by the Cold War. I talk about the Cold War and theorize on historical references in ST5 in this post.

[babypink-cowboy]

Gale is an annoying fly

I don’t like Gale for two reasons, I’ll explain the second one first because it’s easier.

Gale showed no remorse when Prim died, and it’s not because he’s a cold-blooded killer, it’s because of his pride. Gale designed the device that killed Prim, and that device was designed with compassion in mind. The bomb was made up of two explosives, an initial explosion and then a delayed explosion. The initial explosion is meant to harm the enemy, but the delayed explosion is meant to harm medics, field nurses, and field doctors. People who have the desire and want to help people. Gale feels no shame about this device and how he designed it, he’s actually proud of it. His pride in his work is why he doesn’t apologize to Katniss.

The first and real reason why I don’t like Gale is because he is literally written to be an annoying distraction for Katniss. Someone on TikTok made a video about SOTR and how there are no references to Gale in the new book, that’s because Gale isn’t important to the rebellion, he is only important to Katniss. Reading the first book again has solidified this idea.

We as readers meet Gale for the first time on page 6 of The Hunger Games and Katniss describes him as the one person she can be herself around. A quote that must mentioned is “Gale says I never smile except in the woods”, I mention this line because it shows how little Katniss knows about her own perception. Katniss fully believes that she only smiles when she is in the woods, not because it’s true but because Gale said so. So right off the bat we know that Gale is an important person to Katniss.

Later on, page 9, Gale tells Katniss that they could make a run for it and leave district 12. Immediately, Katniss thinks it’s crazy because what about Prim? Then Gale quickly adds that he and Katniss couldn’t leave because of their families; thus Katniss does think about what would happen if they did leave district 12 with their families. This makes Katniss realize that she doesn’t want to have kids, Gale tells her that he does want kids but doesn’t want them in the districts. Katniss pops his bubble, and he gets mad and says forget it.

Maybe it’s because I read SOTR but I’ve now realized that Gale was trying to confess his feelings for Katniss during that scene. He was trying to get her to leave on Prim’s FIRST reaping day so he can have his little fantasy of Katniss being barefoot and pregnant in the woods. He wasn’t considering his family or Katniss’ family, he was only considering himself. What he wanted.

Then on page 12, the idea of Gale only considering himself is hammered in again. When Gale and Katniss go to see Madge, he makes a comment on her dress. Madge tells him it’s so she can look pretty for the Capitol. Gale gets mad again and goes on a rant about how his name in the bowl 42 times while Madge’s name is only in there 5 times. He completely misses how the reaping, the hunger games is also punishing the merchant class of the districts. Yes, those children don’t have their name in the bowl as many times as kids from the seam but their name is still the bowl. The fear of being reaped is equal amongst the people in the districts, but because Gale only considers himself, he doesn’t come to that conclusion. He believes that the merchant class in his shithole district are better off than he is.

Yes, the merchant class does not have to get tesserae. Yes, they have three meals a day and hot water, but on July 4th, they also have to stand in the square and fear their name being called. Gale isn’t considering that, he’s too distracted by his own turmoil.

And this line of thinking is what leads Gale to being proxy to Prim’s death. A lot of people in the Hunger Games community think that instead of Finnick dying, it should’ve been Gale. Gale is Katniss’ number 1 distraction, his words throughout the trilogy have always challenged what she thought. But let’s not forget, Gale is Katniss’ best friend, one of the last things that remind her of home. If he was killed in front of her, she wouldn’t have been able to continue. So, what does Suzanne Collins do instead of killing Gale? Well since he is a distraction for Katniss but also her best friend, Katniss must let him go. She needs to loosen her grip on their friendship and the only thing that can do it is Gale’s pride. Gale’s device making him proxy to Prim’s death is one thing, but to have pride in the device that killed your best friend’s sister? Yeah, that’s going to end a life-long friendship.

It's 1:46 in the morning, thank you for coming to my TED talk.

p.s. don't send me hate over fictional characters thx *smooch*

[erikiara80]

"We will fix it together." Hopper's cabin (family?) is broken. Interestingly, Crib is playing here, the same song that plays in 2x05, when El is in Jane's room. Hopper and Joyce see Jane's room in S1.

So, I wonder if Will's line is not about fixing/saving the world, but about fixing their family.

From El, Will and "Hopper", transition to Joyce, who's about to smash the russian doll, who could be "pregnant with an explosive device", but actually contains the message that Hopper is alive.

A few episodes later, Owens says that the they used to store bombs underground in the silos, but they haven't used that one in years. There's no bomb there at all. There's something more powerful than a bomb (explosive device). El (and imo, Will too)

So, maybe in the past Joyce was pregnant with powerful children, and Hopper is their father? Hmm

[givehimthemedicine]

ok so Satan's Baby (the explosives) killed the flesh monster by giving Eleven ("Satan's" baby) time to kill the flesh monster by giving Joyce time to use the keys to explode the machine (aka "the key") that was keeping the gate open and the flesh monster alive so Lucas and Max were both right [waterbed water guy voice]

and El is a key/explosive device with which someone was pregnant after being cracked open and glued ba[gets shot]

bonus: you are like Papa

[pocketramblr]

More into the lu au plox? (Just discovered it yesterday)

Into the lu au

Sure have some deets:

Link and Aryll have recently moved halfway across the world with their grandmother to join their uncle in New York as their grandmother is too old to work on her own while caring for children. Their uncle works at Coney Island and Link helps out, though sometimes he just wanders around after hours. He was in a restricted area when he got bit by a spider and you know. Got spidered.

He goes back the next night, trying to figure out what happened when oh no there's explosions because Ganondorf is trying to pull apart reality. Spiderman, aka adult timeline Time, shows up and after meeting and mentoring Link (who is Wind) for a very short time uh he dies. And the device ends up drawing in other versions of him from other universes

Ghost Spider and Wolf Spider, aka child timeline Time and Twilight, come through from their own universe. Ghost is unnerved by the fact that he's dead in this universe and Wolf probably won't exist, but they have their own life to get back to, so he keeps moving. (Wolf actually will be, Malon is unaware she's pregnant at her husband's funeral. This version of Wolf will be mentored by Wind in about ten years when his powers kick in.)

Sorcerer Spider, aka Hyrule, is a gerudo sorcerer who uses an illusion to look like his universe's Spiderman, aka downfall Time, who died saving him among others- so he gets Wind in a way some of the others don't. Four is four thousand spiders in a trench coat who are really good at teamwork. Legend is a cartoon bunny. Sky has a glider he prefers to swinging, Wild is from an apocalypse. Warriors is the only Spiderman who didn't get dragged into the portal on accident. He's from a highly advanced universe that monitors time and multiverse travel, and got the alert that there was a breakthrough. (Sorta spider society, sorta tva, sorta it's own thing). When Ghost refuses to let Wind help, because he's a child, and insists on making the heroic sacrifice to close the portal behind the others, Warriors refuses to let him because it's literally his job- and he lets Wind come along to distract Ghost so he can make sure he gets home safe. This slightly backfires when Wind also tricks Warriors into getting to safety before closing it himself. All's well that ends well, though, so.

(when Ghost took off his mask and Wind realized how similar he looked to his Spiderman he freaked out. Legend deflected by asking about his facial tattoos, which he revealed he got to cover up the scars a symbiote left on him (FD). Wolf has already been lectured to great length about the dangers of symbiotes, but the others get a cliff notes version. However, in a decade, Wind will forget to pass this on to his version of younger Wolf, who will end up involved with and then staying with a symbiote named Midna. (I know I said the Midna in grown wolfs universe is a hacker and she can still be. She's just an alien symbiote in wind's universe.)

There are other spider people, and though they don't show up in this story, Warriors knows some of them from his work. This includes a spider Linkle, a spider Aryll, a spider Sheik, a spider Zelda, a spider First, a spider Ravio, and a spider Ganondorf

[sloshed-cinema]

Immaculate (2024)

Sometimes knowing where a story is going to go from the start isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It doesn’t exactly take a genius to know how things will end up when the friendly priest says that he got his start in biology, and that the catacombs under the convent are off limits. Three guesses who’s got a creepy secret underground lab, and the first two don’t count. Of course the rebellious friend isn’t going to make it, and the reliquary holding the nail that penetrated Christ’s right hand is going to find new flesh before the end of the film. If the film is committed to its concept and not just eyeing a cheap cash grab, all is forgiven. Isn’t that what Christ preached? Transferring to a convent in the Italian countryside, Celeste is well out of her element. She doesn’t speak Italian, and many of the sisters are elderly or harsh. And things only get more strange when she is found to be pregnant without sinful conception. Suddenly this convent seems more like a prison or cult than a spiritual community: all medical attention must come from one doctor, and the other sisters are either slavishly reverent or murderously jealous. This child is not what it seems. Again, not exactly virgin ground. But the ambiguity of the goals of this group keeps things more fresh: are they satanic in nature, as with Rosemary’s baby, twisting their Catholic faith, or do they believe they are fulfilling Revelation through the Second Coming? Is this child Christ or the Antichrist? Either way, this non-consensual artificial insemination is a perversion of the Immaculate Conception.

I’m always a sucker for transgressive Catholic imagery, and this ancient convent is a gorgeous setting for this tense tale. The annunciation of Cecilia by the parish, the young woman draped in blue with a crown of golden roses, but weeping and distraught as the gathered nuns sing hymns, is a potent tableau. But it’s clear from early on that this convent is not what it seems: women can be glimpsed with their faces veiled in red, evocative of Jeremy Irons’ surgical gowns in Dead Ringers. The readily available ultrasound device is also a bit perplexing considering the vows of chastity taken by all. All falls into place in due time. The film doesn’t flinch away from graphic imagery to mar the holy space, Cecilia falling apart during the course of her pregnancy, or her friend getting her tongue cut out for speaking against the powers that be. But the two sensibilities intertwine in an explosion of sacreligious violence as Cecilia makes her escape. She bludgeons the mother superior to a bloody pulp with a crucifix, strangles a priest with a rosary, and stabs her rapist with that holy nail. The baby meets a swift and violent end as well, Cecilia bloody and bereft, but free of the crushing influence of the Church. It could be played off as edgy but then again the sincerity and dire tone of the film buoy it above cheap tricks.

THE RULES

SIP

Jump scare!

Someone asks about Cecilia's Italian proficiency.

Cecilia starts screaming.

BIG DRINK

Nuns in red veils.

Another trimester passes.

Ultrasound scan is performed.

[edthefatmagicturtle]

youtuber voice: As those of you in my comments love to say, I may not be pregnant, but I always deliver. And that lack of pregnancy is all thanks to today's sponsor, the Mirena IUD. This is a product I use every day, so I was so excited when they reached out. An IUD is an intra-uterine device, (not to be confused with an IED, an improvised explosive device), and it all starts with the magic of cervical dilation.

[twelvegate-blog]

This could be another hint that Joyce and Hopper were married, or at least a couple.

'You and your husband have exciting plans?'

Joyce: "We're seeing an old friend.'

I don't think the old friend is Hopper tho. It's him.

Someone Joyce and Hopper saw in S2

and even before

The mention of a husband, and Joyce doesn't denying it, although the woman thinks it's Murray. Plus the mention of a pregnancy.

The belly of a russian doll that Joyce must break, could be pregnant with an explosive device (Owens thinks that El is more powerful than a bomb). But it's actually "pregnant" with the news that Hopper is in Russia and is alive.

And Murray thought that El was a little russian spy.

Also: Hopper and Joyce almost making out and then twinning. All this happens in the same season.

[trcvelers-chcsen]

Anonymous asked:

[ Close walkman and press play. ]

QUEST STEP: INVESTIGATE THE MYSTERIOUS WALKMAN (complete)

"Give that walkman back, or I swear on all three of my fucking lives, I will-" they began to threaten, but it was too late.

The play button was clicked. The tape began to play. Knives was thrown toward the device, the exo desperate to destroy the offending material before it could reach their non-existent ears, but it was dropped to the ground to the ground in shock before it could be struck.

Apollo stepped back, their hands shaking uncontrollably as the recording on the tape played...

Two voices rung out betwixt the ratting of gunfire, and the high-pitched whines of energy weapons.

One has an electronic overlay. It's familiar. This is Apollo's voice.

The other is decidedly more organic. This voice is unfamiliar.

"...I thought I'd find you here," the unfamilar voice stated, almost fondly. "The fleet is almost ready. Come with us, Apollo. We'll explore the cosmos together, just like we always wanted!"

The shuffling of gravel and asphalt could be heard in the background, as though one of the two conversants had just stood up from a crouch.

"About that..." Apollo responded. "I see New Monarchy colors filing onto your fleet."

Gravel crunched beneath feet as the audio indicted that Apollo had turned to face the other voice.

"You all wanna ditch this planet 'cause the City was attacked, with a bunch of the traitors that fucking attacked it? How does that make sense?"

"I-I don't-" the other voice attempted to respond.

There was a pregnant silence, a muffled explosion bursts in the distance before the voice responds.

"Threes, darling, please..."

"Don't you fucking call me that, Set," the exo interjected. Their synthetic voice wavered. "Not unless you plan to stay."

"Wh... You know I can't do that, Apollo. You know why I can't do that, Apollo," the other person - Set - responded, putting emphasis on their name, faer voice getting closer.

"So you're just gonna cut and run, leave these people to die, because some troublemakers can't accept change?"

"The Last City is doomed, Apollo," Set barked back. "There is no future here!"

"We are Guardians, Set!" the Gunslinger implored the Stormcaller. "We've always made our own fate! We kill gods when we work together!"

Set gave a sort of watery half-chuckle.

"Y'know, I've always found that hopeful streak of yours beautiful, Apollo," the Warlock sniffled. "But now isn't the time for hope. It's the time for action."

"Then don't go!" Apollo begged, their voice cracking through their voice module. "Please... we can fight whatever comes for us... together...!"

There was a sniff picked up over the recording, though it was unclear who it had come from.

"...I'm sorry, Apollo. I just... I can't believe that. I want, to, but..."

"...But what, Set?"

"What if we die our final deaths fighting a losing battle...? I can't lose you, and I can't lose Starshine!"

Apollo let out a scoff.

"What if, huh? What if I go with you, and whatever is out there is more dangerous than what's gonna happen here?"

Another pause. A moment of silence.

"It's all a gamble, Set," they continued, their voice softer now. "Not even the Vex, with their Forge Worlds, and star-powered matrioshka brains have a perfect handle on the future. Not where it concerns the paracausal."

There's another sniff.

"I personally like my odds better here," Apollo finished. "And, I'd prefer that gamble if you were here with me."

A wavering, choked sob bubbled from Set. The crunch of gravel indicated Apollo, stepping closer to comfort their terrified human companion.

"Stay. Please... we'll take our future into our own hands. Stop the Darkness. Live here, on Earth, the beautiful blue planet humanity first emerged on!"

"I-I..." Set sobbed.

"I need you, Set... I need to gamble on us... BOTH of us... making it through this alive...!" Apollo implored.

"I..." the Warlock attempted again. "...I can't take those odds, Apollo... I'm sorry..."

The Hunter made a noise like they'd just been stabbed in the gut. And judging from the expression on the Present-day Guardian's face, it probably would've hurt less to be stabbed.

"...So that's it then...?" Apollo questioned, their tone shifting. "We're over...? Done in by fear, and a mutable future that has yet to come to pass?"

"WE SAW YOUR FUCKING GRAVE IN THAT PREDICTION ENGINE, APOLLO!" Set roared. "You, me, and Helios, listening to Saint giving your FUCKING eulogy!"

"I don't plan on dying any time fucking soon, Set! I don't give two shits WHAT some flawed supercomputer thinks is gonna happen!"

"It's all the proof I fucking need to know we're all dead if we stay here! If you die, who the hell can survive?"

Apollo swore under their breath.

"I've seen firsthand how bad the Vex are at understanding us!" The Gunslinger challenged. "And if you had half the fucking spine needed to see that, you wouldn't be running off to gallivant through the fucking stars with traitors!"

"Excuse me?!"

"I said what I fucking said. I can't believe I fell in love with a fucking coward."

"FUCK YOU."

"It'd be better than fucking talking to you at this point," they retorted. Gravel crunched as they turned away from their now former lover. "Goodbye, Set."

"N-no... W-wait- I didn't..."

Apollo, judging from the sound of footsteps, had begun to walk away.

"C-come back, please...!"

"...If it's any consolation, I really don't want you to die either... I hope you stay safe, wherever you end up going."

"Stop, Apollo... please just fucking stop...!"

"I love you, Set..." they croak. "But I have a world to save. And you said yourself you can't take that gamble on me."

"No...!"

"I'm sorry."

Set's desperate sobs slowly began to turn into a building growl. The sound of footfalls stopped.

"Wh... my radar turned..."

A sound like thunder boomed through the recording, and the buzzing of electricity became the desperate wail of a jilted lover.

"What...!?"

There was a shuffling and skidding, a stretched boom, familiar to Guardians as the dreaded sound of an incoming Chaos Reach, followed by a second boom, and the familiar ring of a single shot of a Golden Gun.

And all.

Goes.

Silent.

"...A... poll... o..."

"N-no..." the exo's voice rung out through the silence. "N-no, no, no, no, I didn't mean to- it was reflex, I-"

Crunching, irregular footfalls presumably bring Apollo back to Set's side, as the slow crackling of flame emanated from nearby.

"...S-sor... ry..." were the Warlock's final words, before presumably disintegrating into Solar light and ash.

The sound of a transmat firing swept the recording, a new voice crying out at the guardian.

"What did you do...?! Fae just wanted you to come WITH faer, you stubborn asshole!!"

"I-I didn't... fae just... S-Set... I..."

The stammered half-sentence was cut off by the sound of Apollo, scrambling to their feet, stepping backward, and running.

The recording cuts off there.

"...So." Apollo stepped forward, body tense, voice shaking.

"...Are you fucking happy, now that you got to witness the second worst day of my third damn life?"

The Guardian snatched the device from the ground.

"Don't fucking answer that. I don't give a shit how you feel."

Apollo would punctuate their remark by transmatting away.

[warningsine]

At least 18 people were killed and 19 seriously wounded in suicide attacks targeting a wedding, a hospital and a funeral in northeastern Nigeria on Saturday, authorities said.

The region has been scarred by more than a decade of violence by jihadist group Boko Haram, which did not immediately claim responsibility for the string of attacks.

In one of three blasts on Saturday in the town of Gwoza, a woman with a baby strapped to her back detonated explosives in the middle of a wedding ceremony, according to a state police spokesman.

"At about 1545 (1445 GMT) a woman carrying a baby on her back detonated an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) she had on her at a crowded motor park," Borno State police spokesman Nahum Kenneth Daso said.

Women suicide bombers also targeted a hospital in the same town, which lies across the border from Cameroon. Another attack was later carried out at the funeral for victims of the wedding blast, authorities said.

At least 18 people were killed and 42 others injured in the spate of attacks, according to the Borno State Emergency Management Agency (SEMA).

"So far, 18 deaths comprising children, men, females and pregnant women" have been reported, agency head Barkindo Saidu said in a report seen by AFP.

Nineteen "seriously injured" people were taken to the regional capital Maiduguri, while 23 others were awaiting evacuation, Saidu said in the report.

A member of a militia assisting the military in Gwoza said two colleagues and a soldier were also killed in a separate attack on a security post, though authorities did not immediately confirm this toll.

Although Boko Haram has lost ground in recent years, jihadists continue to attack rural communities in Nigeria on a regular basis.

Over the course of the insurgency, Boko Haram has repeatedly deployed young women and girls to carry out suicide attacks. 

The group seized Gwoza in 2014 when its militants took over swathes of territory in northern Borno.

The town was taken back by the Nigerian military with help from Chadian forces in 2015 but the group has continued to launch attacks from mountains near the town.

Boko Haram has carried out raids, killing men and kidnapping women who venture outside the town in search of firewood and acacia fruits.

The violence has killed more than 40,000 people and displaced around two million in Nigeria's northeast.

The conflict has spread to neighbouring Niger, Cameroon and Chad, prompting the formation of a regional military coalition to fight the militants.

(AFP)

[the-time-lord-oracle]

Gazelle having a conference with several RTD-era companions in Cold Blood:

Inside the TARDIS, Gazelle was standing at the console, contacting several former companions on the subwave network. First to come on screen was Martha Milligan-Jones. "Gazelle? Good to see ya again!" she grinned.

"Likewise." Gazelle smiled. "How ya doing Martha? Everything alright with Tom?"

"Well, just got good news. I'm pregnant."

"Oh, Martha, that's brilliant news!" Gazelle grinned. "Congratulations."

Just then, Mickey Smith came on screen. "Gazelle. How's things? I'm guessin' this ain't a social call."

"I wish it was, Mickey." Gazelle replied. "Just waiting for the others to get in touch. How's life treating ya?"

"Ah, not too bad." Mickey replied. "Been a bit quiet lately. Alien seem to be givin' us a break for once."

Next to appear on screen was Sarah Jane Smith. "Hello? Gazelle? Is that you?"

"Yep, it's me alright." the Time Lady acknowledged. "Good to see ya again, Sarah Jane. Keeping up the good work, I presume? How's Luke?"

"He's fine." Sarah Jane replied. "He's off to college soon."

"Ah, kids, they grow up so fast." Gazelle smiled, remembering her own son.

Then the final contact came though; Captain Jack Harkness. "Ah, the face of a royal beauty." he said in his usual way. "Long time no see, Gaz."

"You too, flirt boy." Gazelle replied. "And you know that talk doesn't work on me, I'm a married woman."

"So, now we're all here, wos' the emergency?" Mickey asked.

"Right, down to business." Gazelle said. "Now this is gonna sound like a stupid question, but have any of you noticed strange cracks in walls lately? And by strange, I mean cracks that're shaped like jagged W's and have a glowing light coming out of them?"

The group all seemed to know what she was talking about. "Yes, I've seen one in the wall at the end of my road." Sarah Jane said.

"There's one in one of the walls of a house a few doors down from me." Martha added.

"And I've been seeing 'em all over the place." Mickey chimed in.

"Me too." Jack finished. "And since you're asking about 'em, I'm guessing they're trouble?"

"Serious trouble." Gazelle replied grimly. "You've all confirmed our worst suspicions. Those cracks are splits in the skin of the universe. You all need to be extra careful with those cracks. The smaller ones don't do much harm, they act like rifts or wormholes, but the bigger ones are very serious. They bleed out time energy that erases anyone or anything it consumes. That's why all your friends and neighbours can't remember the Dalek invasion, the time energy consumed it."

"So why can WE still remember that?" Martha asked. "Is it cos we've travelled in the TARDIS?"

"Yes, time travelling gives ya a degree of protection from the energy's memory-altering effects, but only up to a point. If anyone you know gets consumed, you'll never remember them." Gazelle said, subconsciously touching the pocket where she'd put Amy's ring box.

"But how're these cracks appearing in the first place?" Sarah Jane asked.

"An' is there any way to plug 'em?" Mickey added.

"We think that the cracks were caused by an enormous explosion that splintered all of time and space." Gazelle told them. "We still don't know what caused that explosion yet, but the Doctor's managed to recover something from one of the cracks. Maybe it'll tell us more. As for plugging 'em... if it's a small crack, then opening the crack all the way with a sonic device will cause the forces to invert and the crack to snap shut. As for the larger ones, they're trickier, as it takes stuffing them with complicated events to seal them. Sarah Jane, could ya get Mr Smith to see if he can get some more data on the cracks and try and find a way to seal them all?"

"Yes, I'll do that right away." Sarah Jane nodded.

"Meanwhile, I'd advise you all to be cautious." Gazelle told them all. "If ya see one of these cracks, stay away from it. We don't wanna lose anyone else to them."

[greenfiend]

Just saw TFS and here are some of my thoughts… (spoilers below!)

The determinism/free will themes are strong. From Brenner telling Henry to embrace his fear and rage to his classmates pressuring him to pursue a romantic relationship with Patty (very reminiscent of Mike and El in ST1)… Henry feels he has no agency. I definitely did not get the feeling at all that he’s evil, he’s just stuck.

Why is Ted the same age as the others when in ST1, Nancy mentions that he’s older than Karen? But yet only Lonnie is older than the others. 🤔

Speaking of Ted… both actors who play Ted in the play have a resemblance to Henry. One resembles JCB in the show and the other resembles Henry in the play. This and that lingering shot of Ted’s shadow in one scene where he’s singing (and only his!!!!!) is VERY interesting.

Lonnie is super suspicious as usual. He essentially swapped places with the #1 suspect (Victor Creel) and admitted to stealing baby Jesus from the nativity scene. This along with the association with Joyce/Hopper and Christmas at the end has me thinking thoughts… (Will is Jesus and Hopper is the real father thoughts…)

Some people think that Henry was threatening Joyce at the end. I disagree. He was warning her. In my opinion, this is alluding to her being a victim/subject of Brenner’s… leading to her being “pregnant with an explosive device” and giving birth to “little boy” (Will).

[boyakishantrinity]

Do be a long one. Bit abstract, but Neato lol.

He was dressed casually. It'd been a few weeks now, wandering the countryside, before being flown by the goddess to the front. Every other hero was busy, fighting other fronts, learning themselves or newfound powder.

“... Ok…?”

She wasn't prideful. Or surprised, or. Anything really. Staring at him. Blinking, head completely blank as the man froze. Unsure what to make of it.

“... I mean, like. Cool… ?? I guess…???”

Eyes flickering over the room. Without pride, or emotion. Just. Existing.

“... Did you not hear me??”

He didn't look like one, but he was basically a monk. Chaste, religious but largely a chill dude. Dedicated to the… something about the goddess? Speaking of which.

“It's still weird.”

Her voice came from the doorway. Deciding on that, I looked over at her.

“The fact I'm cute?”

Batting her eyelids, innocently blinking as she looked at the orange haired woman. Don't ask me how, I still don't understand what magical resonance means.

“I mean… yea-... wait, how did you-”

Her words were cut over, freezing. Making a face as the woman let out a snort. Snickering, laughing. Slapping her thigh as the monk blinked out the residual shockwave.

“Oh my gods, the goddess thinks I'm-”

“wha… OHSHI- INCOMING!!!”

BOOM.

The stone masonry rumbled at the sudden explosions. Stumbling backwards, cursing in. Iberian subsect?? I dunno to be honest, since stone dust got into my eyes.

“MOTHER FUCKER-”

Slamming into the ground. A roar erupted from over the side, an illegal army. Which sounds strange since the demon continent across the water was specifically a culture of strength and warfare. But there were treaties, and vague rules about civilians as this entire section was a specialist in medical fields. Like doctors.

“-TAKE AIM!!”

Her voice roared from the bound up hay. Rolled on their side, sneezing as the sounds of cannons and firearms echoed through the wall.

“OH SHIT-”

The inspector man got to his feet. Monk grabbed the woman as he stumbled to his feet. Legs yanking the both of them towards the entrance. Before the cannons-

BOOM BOOM-

Rolling down the wall, the thunk of bricks all slamming backwards. Taking the force of the cannons. Stone evaporating into dust, old pieces of rock releasing the tension and themselves as the launchers made alerting noises.

CHUNK- CHINK-

BWAAAAAAA!

CH-CH-CHW-

A lot of noises rocketed around us, the cannons had launched the first barrage. Longer ranged pieces of shrapnel smashing against the enemy forces. Antiquated cannons rolled out of the way as fresh ones were loaded in. People rushing as they stuffed ammunition inside, before rolling them forward again.

Over by the catapults, the wire was currently flying behind them all, metal cable bending end over end, whipping past their heads and over the wall. Carts being loaded as people rolled the launchers back into position.

Equally as panicked, archers had moved into place, mages holding staff as several bottle holding individuals began chucking them across the lines. A frenzy, entire lines of archers far behind notched arrows, orange hair in a mess, as whatshername barked out another order.

“TAKE AIM!”

People had taken across the spot, portholes in the wall, across both base and along the spires and current positions. Wand placed near her mouth, as she barked out.

“FIRE!”

A ratcheting noise of bangs and arrows launched into the air. There were five hundred archers near the middle back, the rest at the wall, firing from the gated wall. Turning to the priest behind her as she barked out an order. Pulling out a bugle like device, he blared out a tune.

FWOOOO-

Flares erupted from beside me. The evening light made them largely visibler, for some reason I remembered what my CO used to say.

“Flares are the same, green's friendly. Red's for not and pink is for pregnant people. Like Onion.”

“Hey!”

Bright green, the gate slammed shut with a metal bar. Bugles blared across the short space, before the roaring became more prominent.

BOOM- BOOM-

More noises, people started falling from the wall. Shouting and cursing, bodies injured or tired thrown over the edge, landing safely onto whatever was below.

A lot of doctors and other people would lift them off, weave a piece of fabric or quickly replace the hay wherever crash mattresses weren't at least.

“Fifty kilo!”

People started repeating that, the words echoed down the line. Staring blankly. Watching it all, weapons strapped back onto her decent form. Her eyes looked around, feeding on the information around her.

Comprehending it all. I stood on an elevated platform, giving quick instructions, a momentary lull as I quickly placed instructions onto maps. Messengers rushing across the line. Signing orders as the roar of demon warriors continued to charge the line.

Most of their situation was the same old. A civil gap in the main continent, a rich prince seeking glory. If he could just succeeded, his skimming of protocol would be ignored and his strength would be verified. If not, well.

His army wasn't exactly supposed to be here, the flag was several forts back and most of the civilians were panicking. Rushing into the forest with the elves, but that was too slow. Reports back signed that the first space wasn't even emptied. Every other sector was similar, but the first wasn't ready yet.

FORTY. WEIGHT.

Kilometres. As stupid as it was, Earth was the only world that was consistent. Material rulers were easy enough to make, but to tie measurements to Earth, from plank to metres. It was the best solution for the time.

FIRE. STRAIGHT.

FLAME ON.

Signing the words. The messenger nodded, throwing a thumbs up as their body moved away. The first sector was clear. Two hours now. We could keep them consistently back at 43 metres,Archer volleys were dropped. Gunners were replaced with archers as their siege machines finally rolled forward.

Two hours, from their first sighting, to two legions of warriors. Slicing arrows and bullet, taking their weaponry. One and a half legions battled forward, shields raised as their priests and magic users chanted behind them. A chorus now, sacrificing several villages of magical slaves to soften the defences, to a fully armoured turtle formation. 43 metres, any closer and they'd be in killing range.

We'd only picked off six of the warriors, unable to stop firing at their siege machines. Even if we had no indication what kind, if the prince wasn't close to the magic casted, each killing strike against the wood, ws a tiny prick on the magic user.

Each hit, in theory, could break the magic shield. Not including the fact that firing those magical shields slowed their movement. A hundred coordinated strikes against a wooden log you're trying to roll forward was just that little more annoying.

Pardon the fact we just ran out of bullets. Refilling the gunners was easy, only needing a few minutes, like now, to reload. I'd organised a train of bullets to be sent here, three times what we'd ever need. But arrows were harder, with a lot of adventurers, entire fronts of diplomatic wars. What arrows I could scrounge together were already running shorter and shorter.

The rolling creak, the haunting howl of the demons, we needed a few more minutes and the next shipment of arrows would arrive. But we'd last less than-

“I'M GOING OVER THE WALL!!!”

The goddess froze, standing over a map, fingers tapping short keys as she rapidly communicated across the kingdom. Eyes turning to her side, faces close.

A subtle pink blush was on her face, but now, more than her flustered bright red face. Staring at the woman as she barely managed to mouth.

“¿¿¿WHAT?!?!?!”

Before her hands reached the sides of her face. Pulling their heads together, and kissing her on the lips.

“BYE!!!”

Running backwards, flipping over the side, she jumped onto the wooden spike in the wall. I'd climbed the Great Mosque of Djenné, mostly to spite their leader, so I'd come into the same protocol.

Jump, grab, pull, lift. Breathe. Repeat.

Six of them went up the wall, six layers of gunners, archers and magical attacks. Magic here had a purpose, unlike snipers who needed to reload, they could fire so long as they had mana. In between reloading, they'd replace the snipers in far flung positions because archers and arrows are too complicated.

I clambered to the top, other people were handing quivers of arrows, jumping back down. I did the same, handing a bow to an empty handed runner, several quivers I'd just taken before slipping between the lines.

A fresh Archer was being loaded in, the guy dropped down after me, before I saw an arrow fire towards me. Then a plate appeared in my face, several people actually had plates appear over their faces, or other items on long sticks.

I turned, connected from below, several mages stood in a circle a little ways back, eyes closed and dressed in robes. Chanting as their hands mimed moving the sticks with their fingers.

“THAT'S SO COOL!!”

Ignoring the people trying to get her to move, the next shift was here, why was she even-

Oh shit.

Line.

Her body slumped over the wall, feet catching the torron. Shield swinging behind her, her body crawling into a ball as she flexed on the other side of the wall.

IGNORE.

Waving a shade of blue cloth around the peoples, a few metres of space to work shifts, the messenger clambered back down. People moved back to slowing the siege machines.

Then a filled quiver was tossed up. Dropping down, someone cursed from further down the wall.

Twenty metres now. Twenty metres until the siege machines would drop. Warriors hung on scaffolding a few steps back. People jumped across, landing onto the hay behind the volley archers positions.

And again. A filled quiver was tossed into the archer.

A free hand grabbed the grip, glancing down for a moment. Arm extended behind her. The archer hung his bow behind him.

Grabbing a runner, the man grabbed the empty one. Before he could snatch it back, he'd given the man a filled one.

Confused. He looked at it. Before the archer next to him handed another filled quiver.

It took about. Five minutes, for the people up top to get the hint. Most of the arrows were broken against the machines, but there were a lot of arrows a few metres forward from the main body.

My head had arrows that's struggled to hit the mark, horned mages near the front couldn't fire at me since that was one second too late from their rapidly dug in trench.

That gave me a kilometre of-

THUNK.

A big shield dropped a few metres back, I'd almost filled the quiver completely, a few more arrows into the glued foamy bottom.

I glanced up. Several shield wielding individuals had dropped over the side, an idea of what they were doing clicked in.

COO-COO

Miming the sign to the archer above her, the man threw up a thumb as the machines slowly rolled forward.

In ten minutes the battle started shifting. Heavy shields were dropped along the side, swords held by warriors behind shields. The machines came to a standstill, halfway from breaking past the line of trenches. Tunnels being dug as the magically enchanted neutral ground stopped any earth shaping.

More specifically, the valley's dry state meant that the space beyond the trickle of water flowed downwards, up until the lot of demon forts along the far edge of the northern mountain pass. The largely barren space was enchanted so no magic of either positive or negative side could be casted.

My face was still red as a messenger signed the new orders. We'd managed to extend the battle by an added hour now. A chain of largely insane runners were collecting the arrows that's been fired. Magic didn't penetrate the field and arrows weren't magically returning to quivers because of the same rules.

So that only left physically doing so. But with the continuous firing, any pot shots the enemy made had to be made upwards, otherwise. Well they'd be standing up in a live firing situation.

WOMAN. BURN. HOME.

The goddess froze again. Blinking. Staring at the messenger as they waited patiently. One of the priests signed another message. The posty sprinted off.

She didn't have any incendiary items. She'd only recently started learning magic, showing good promise but clumsy and… she faked being stupid.

Line.

My heartbeat was pounding my ears. I just had a very very stupid idea. Right now, both sides have stopped fighting. People were running through, troops were audibly getting ready. But it was still tense.

With troops reassembling, the gate half opened, one side. Warriors wielding shields formed a new front as arrows were scrounged front to back. I slipped by as they moved the shields back.

At first, I tried to cast magic. Pulling parts of my brain to will it forward as I normally did. That didn't work. I tried different techniques several times. Waving my hand and the energy just. Dissipated. Some kind of wave came out of the rocks.

Neutralising magic from being casted within the millions of immaterial laser field. But not internally…

I glanced over. The woman was sitting before the gate, close enough the plank would easily miss her standing form, shield on her left arm. Stepping closer, seemingly to focus… before flames erupted from her shoulder.

I felt the heart the warmth. A raging bonfire raging over my arm. Focusing, the flames moved over my armour. Layers of butane rushed upwards, a thick layer of fluid around the circular waving of my body.

Focusing, I moved the flames closer. My dominant arm. Invisible feelers flickered in and out of my vision. Pushing my mana outwards, vibrating the energy closer and closer. Increasing the temperature as I placed the fire and the outlet space outside.

Raising my hand, sticking the plate behind the wall. Energy covering the section of wood. Cutting it from the plane, like a bubble of water in higher atmosphere, sucking it within the sphere.

A raging wildfire was in my belly, roaring and howling at the restrain. Snarling escaped my lips, before I opened my eyes. The algorithm is complete.

Like a wildfire, flames erupted from the wooden panelling. Bypassing the magic protections as the wood itself burst into flames.

“MY ASS!!!”

Leaning against the unmoving wall, the sudden heat hissed against flesh. Demons shouting in panic, as I swung my hands over my head. Pulling my mana backwards, stretching it sideways.

Extending feelers, as I felt magical eyes turn toward the moving turret, they gripped the solid material. Wood being cut off, the wildfire in a lull. Cackling, laughing, a mad voice laughed out.

“IGNITION!”

Hell had burst across the front line. The five massive machines had rolled into a flat line. With a shield wall, wooden planks placed overhead. They'd rolled just short of the shield line. Demon warriors about to move into the covered trenches. Frozen. Watching as iron wheels and spokes started to glow.

Raging wildfires burst over the siege machines. Waiting archers firing shots at the backing up forces. Demons shouting as they jumped out of the way.

“HELLLLLLLLLO CALIFORNIA!”

A voice crackled across the rising plumes of smoke. Ash and fire strung backwards, the shield wall was glowing. Planks bursting into flames as the fire devoured anything that could count of fuel.

Rolling across the front line. Demon warriors back off, the flaming sludge that was the front line. Bones being melted into the magma as the magical flames rolled around the human.

Laughing. Reaching outwards, the shield wall solidified behind her. Iron solidified as the magma became ferrous lava, cooling rapidly and locking the human with them.

Well…

“LET’S CUT THE CHARADE-”

Blood pushed across my body, a fragment of self rose upwards. Taking control, the power. The reach, my mana pool was pouring forward. Crashing against the mages behind. Following clumsily against me, chemical responses. The reactions, a circular loop of absorbing material energy and maintaining the heat. Flames curled up the structure. Sucking the ash, ripping apart the smoke from the air. Energy cracking into static in the air above as I devoured the wooden machines.

Metal slowly rolled under my command. I'd launched plumes of the stuff backwards, quick forging the shield wall permanently, cackling as we sang Different Beasts.

“YOU ARE NO WIFE OF OURS.”

She dropped down, hand reaching forward. The force struggled backwards. People screaming, demons howling as the metal and heat devoured the slowly retreating crowd.

“YOU’VE TRIED TO TAKE LIFE THIS WHOLE TIME-”

Knelt down. A mage stepped forward, pulling water from several pouches. But they steamed, ripping the mana from the mage. They gasped, feet backing away as they were eaten by the fire.

“I KNOW UNDERWATER THERE'S PACKS OF YOU HIDING!!”

Raising her fist, the wooden structures collapsed. A loud groan and creak, sweat poured down her face. The metal forged into liquid tendrils. Metal and heat, low level electricity, the increased heat started to crackle.

“Yeah, we know what you are. Failed martyrs.”

Lighting started to burst across the mana field. Her energies waged the war. Their bodies rolled the mana through them, mages trying to warn their comrades to strengthen their shields caught empty as she drew sword.

“My real wife knows I ain't scared of the WATER-”

Lightning burst from the sky. Clouds forming out of the water molecules in the plane. Slamming against the roof of the valley. Temperature system working in tandem with her control of flames and heat.

“AND MY REAL WIFE KNOWS I DON'T HAVE A DAUGHTER!!”

Flames rolled over. Lightning and wind. Hands pushing forward, swinging the blade before her.

“But while you were so focused on turning my men into snacks-”

Raising arms. The blade started to float. Breaking in pieces. Her body started shaking from the new strain.

“You didn't notice that your friends got snatched”

Twitching. Her body morphed. Hardening, the laughter in her voice vanished as she howled out.

“IGNITION!!!”

Lighting erupted out of the ground. Fields launching flecks of iron. Rail cannons rolled crackling booms. Electrified pieces of iron ignited static. Metal hardened as her control weakened. Mana thickened where she had space. Material heat floating the magnetised lava with her slow dance forward.

“We are a different beast now.”

She let cursed. Stumbling. Her body exploded with uncontrolled energy. Metals launching forward as the army began moving in retreat.

“We arе the ones who feast now.”

Her body flickered. Reality warped as she lost pieces of control. Fragments of something were waning in.

“No morе of us decease, 'cause we won't take more suffering from you.”

Growling. The words grew hauntingly plural, more voices out of the mana field. Snarling as she started to twitch.

“We are the man-made monsters.”

Flickering. Hands began to form from the mana. Empty pieces of hardly visible static. Faces, figures. More bodies seeming to try to escape.

“We are the ones who conquer.”

Together. As one. Pieces of her fractured. My fractured. Our fractured mind, they became more real as the army fully retreated.

“You are a threat no longer.”

Wolf headed. Growing stronger. With horns flickering in and out of vision. Hardening, formed out of her glow. Body shining with concentrated radiation as it howled.

“We won't take more suffering from y-”

And as suddenly as it'd happened. In a howl of air. Mana rushing back in. The woman gasping as she managed to sheathed her sword.

Heaving. Her body flickered. Glowing, a divine power. Absorbing the material and energy, air turning dry as the river froze. Literally. Ice had formed from the gap. Wider valley below her, heaving. She'd started walking. Moving to the spot, further and further away from the line.

Shimmering. The light of a god, true form, flickering. Her body wasn’t stabilising. Why- fighting her.

A wild fire, a wildfire just wants to grow. Expand. I gripped my he

"An initiate's mana could be imagined as a flame. Most are small candles to bright torches. And we at the Order help these flames flourish into something useful... but you're a raging wildfire."