#survivor revenant

[reds-skull]

Revenant Side Stories

Story III: Gaz

[Konchar] [Graves] [AO3]

I worked on both this and that Ghost painting I posted earlier in the time I was away from this blog, and I apparently had enough motivation to finish both today haha

If you remember the conversation Gaz and Soap had on the helo in chapter 14 of Not Alive, Nor Dead (the one where they were talking about the worst time they've used their powers), then the events in this story might be familiar...

I enjoyed writing this so much, I absolutely love Gaz (and more specifically rev AU's version of him <3)

Alright enough yapping time for pain

Kyle should be used to the feeling of free-falling. To the air rushing past his ears, to the sting in his eyes as the ground approaches him rapidly. The pull that catches him not a moment too soon, invisible ribbons wrapping him in their safe embrace.

It was perhaps a little naive of him to think gravity will never betray him again.

The whistling wind is what wakes him first, that familiar tune Gaz made his own in the past year. Familiar, but out of place - wasn’t he just running after the HVT…?

Kyle opens his eyes.

The sky warps around him, skyscrapers higher than the heavens towering over him like giants, silhouettes in the night. His body twists uncontrollably, and his view shifts to the ground, people nothing but ants, growing larger and larger-

The sinking feeling in his gut screams one thing, and one thing only.

You’re going to die again.

Several hours earlier

“Sergeant Garrick!” someone calls from behind him. Gaz turns, expecting to have to search for the source in the pre-mission rush of soldiers. He instead instantly zeroed in on a frankly giant man. To his credit, he wasn’t expecting a soldier clad in all black tactical gear, and a stark white skull mask.

Well, only one guy in the SAS that fits this description, “Lieutenant Ghost, sir.” Gaz’s head tilts up to look at the eyes behind the mask.

He’s heard a lot about the legendary revenant, and while most are probably the works of the rumor mill working overtime, just the presence of Ghost emanates a sort of unrivalled power that raises the hairs at Kyle’s nape.

It’s unlikely any of them will see the Lieutenant in action today; he’s here to fill in for Captain Price in overwatch, but he can’t help but have a sort of morbid curiosity, a craving to know if the revenant lives up to the myth.

Ghost motions with his head for him to follow, and begins walking towards the tents that have been set up as their temporary base of operations, “Captain told me you can fly.” he begins.

Gaz smiles nervously, “uh, not exactly. I got gravity manipulation.” they enter the tent, the flurry of activity as disorienting as it is outside, with squad leaders confirming last-minute details about the mission. “Can use it on others as well, but I have to be in direct skin contact.”

“Won’t need it in this op either way,” Ghost rumbles, a somewhat bitter note in his words. A few men do a double take at the two of them, and Gaz suppresses an eye roll.

Being a revenant turned out… different than he thought it would be. Sure, he knew they had superpowers and the ability to converse with extradimensional beings, but he wasn’t ready for the staring.

He knows he’s not human anymore, that he lost a fundamental part of himself the moment he left that helo crash alive, but he doesn’t need to be reminded at any turn.

Perhaps Ghost is onto something with the mask. At least he can roll his eyes all he wants.

Ghost addresses the soldiers in the tent, everyone snapping into attention, “Sergeant Garrick will lead the infil team. Target is at the suite of the Amandi Hotel, possibly guarded and armed.” the Lieutenant scrutinizes them, “I’ll be on overwatch on the comms tower north of the hotel. Helo circles the sky in case we need to extract from the roof.”

He crosses his arms, the perfect image of authority, “any questions?”

“No, sir!” the soldiers in the tent echo.

“Good. Garrick’s team is up in 5.” Ghost’s attention turns to him, “you’ll treat the Sergeant like any other soldier - his powers are irrelevant here.”

Gaz’s eyes widen as the rest of his squad gives Ghost the affirmative. The Lieutenant leaves the tent, ordering the others, and he shakes away from his stupor. A surprisingly warm feeling spreads through his chest.

No time to wonder about Ghost’s intentions, they have a man to catch.

It takes only ten minutes for the mission to go completely off rails.

Ghost wasn’t lying when he said his powers are irrelevant here. With the narrow hallways of the hotel, and lack of loose, heavy objects around ready to be thrown, Gaz is as good as any of his human squad mates.

He grits his teeth, popping out of cover to shoot yet another henchman down. The HVT must be bloody loaded to afford this much manpower.

“Be advised Bravo 6-1, enemy reinforcements approaching your position. I don’t have a clear shot on them.” Ghost’s low voice sounds from his comms.

Gaz returns to cover when a bullet grazes his cheek, and he answers between a hiss of pain, “copy, attempting to advance to the suite now.”

“Stevenson, Ellis, take the left hallway, the rest with me!” Kyle orders the corporals. He’s betting on the fact the henchmen will be too preoccupied with their assault to notice the two soldiers flanking them.

Gaz and his team goes on the offensive, unnerved by the bullets ricocheting around them. A few fast heartbeats later, the hostiles go down with gasps of surprise. He allows himself a moment of celebration, before pushing onwards.

This is another thing he had to learn in his new second life. Turns out, the brass promotes revenants faster than other soldiers, and soon after his Reaping he was promoted to Sergeant. He will probably never forget the nasty looks he got from his old mates after that, people he thought were his friends. Sometimes Kyle wanted to scream that he didn’t ask for this, he didn’t ask to be the only one left alive.

Usually following that thought is a reminder that he very much did. He asked to live. 

Gaz knew what he was wishing for.

Stevenson and Ellis join them, and he makes sure to order most of the squad to watch their six, Ghost’s warning still fresh in his mind.

“Lieutenant, got sights on the HVT?” Gaz radios in.

The comms crackle before he gets an answer, “negative, he went to the back two minutes ago, likely holing up in the bathroom.” he can hear the faint sound of wind through his mic, “stay sharp, this might be a trap.”

“Understood, sir.” 

Gaz holds a fist up to signal the squad to stop, and attempts to listen for any movements inside the suite. Price’s mind reading abilities would’ve been nice to have around right about now…

He lets out a shaky breath. Going in blind never gets less nerve wracking, “Smith, Farage, keep watch on the hallways, Ellis, Stevenson and Wright, prepare for breach in three…”

The soldiers move to their positions, and the moment his count reaches zero, Gaz kicks the door down and begins clearing the room. Every dark corner becomes a potential hiding spot for hostiles, every flickering shadow catches his attention.

The main area of the suite is an open floor plan room, floor-to-ceiling windows making up the whole front part. The city lights twinkle through the clear glass, unaware of the danger that dwells above them.

“Main room clear, moving to the bathroom.” Gaz relays to Ghost and the rest. He lowers his rifle and reaches for the handle. The door creaks ominously when he shoves it open, revealing a dark and completely empty space. He clears it in a few seconds, all the while his confusion grows.

“Ghost” he clicks his comms on, “the HVT isn’t here.”

The Lieutenant is silent for a brief moment, “He didn’t leave the suite, Garrick. Keep searching the other rooms.” Gaz opens his mouth to give the affirmative, when he hears Wright and Stevenson give the clear for the two bedrooms. A twisting feeling in his gut grows.

“Sir, I think we’re missing something-”

Loud bangs echo from the main bedroom, Gaz instantly exiting the bathroom to watch Stevenson go down, “fuck!”

Hostiles stream out of the room in an endless swarm, the rest of his squad taking cover around the suite. “Garrick! What the fuck is going on there?!”

“Stevenson missed a bloody secret room, sir!” Gaz grunts, shooting two men down. From the corner of his eye, he sees Wright push forward, so he joins him.

A shattering sound alerts him to Ghost’s shots, “do you have eyes on the target?!” the Lieutenant’s voice echoes through comms. Another shot rings out, and a body drops to his right.

“Negative!” he answers. Smith and Farage are fighting further out, enemies forcing them back to the hallway, Stevenson motionless on the ground. Wright snarls beside him, his left arm bleeding from a graze. Ellis…

“Sergeant! Behind you!” Ghost shouts. Gaz whips around, to watch the HVT drag himself to the broken windows.

Himself, and the unconscious body of Ellis. Gaz charges forward before the HVT locks eyes with him, a manic sort of fury burning within them.

The bastard smiles at him, blood staining his bright white teeth. He heaves Ellis, dragging him right to the edge.

“You take one more step, and I drop your friend.” the target drawls. 

Kyle stops, raising his arms in surrender, mind rapidly trying to pinpoint the location of each hostile and soldier left in the room. If he could be sure his squad will be able to apprehend the HVT by themselves, he could be free to follow Ellis, and catch him before they both hit the ground.

“Alright.” Gaz swallows thickly, keeping his voice as calm as he can, “we’ll give you what you want, just let him go.”

The target’s smile widens, “tell your soldiers to drop their weapons” he shakes Ellis, Gaz’s heart jumping to his throat. He nods, slowly lowering a hand to his radio.

“All stations, hold fire, we’ve got a hostage.”

The commotion behind him stops abruptly, his soldiers murmuring in confusion but listening to him all the same. Gaz scans the HVT for weapons - a pistol at his right hip, a knife strapped to the other. As long as he doesn’t use those on Ellis, he still has a chance to save him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here.” Ghost warns, “I don’t have a clear shot, don’t doom the entire squad to save one man.”

His jaw tightens in response. He’s not going to allow any more of them to die today.

“Good” the target’s voice drips with satisfaction, “at least one of you soldier boys has more than half a brain. Now… I have other matters to attend to, so if you will leave the premises peacefully, that would be helpful.”

“Not without him.” Gaz motions to Ellis.

The HVT tsks, “do I look stupid? I know you’ll shoot my men down the moment I let him go.” his head tilts mockingly, “no, he’s coming with me.”

“Garrick…” Ghost growls. “Ellis’ chances are low. Get the HVT secure and get out.” This is taking too long.

“I prefer to have… insurance.” the target continues.

Gaz’s lips pull back in disgust, “for a cornered man, you’re asking for a lot, mate.”

“Am I cornered, though?”

The telltale click of a trigger shoots adrenaline down Kyle’s limbs, and he moves out of the bullet’s way a second before it reaches him. He grunts as he grasps at the attacker’s rifle over his shoulder, twisting it around his torso to disarm the man.

Lieutenant Ghost’s voice booms through comms, “Bravo, get your guns up! More hostiles are entering your floor!!!”

Gaz barely avoids a fist coming from his left, ducking and dodging a knee to his guts. Gunshots echo behind him, grunts and growls and screams of pain almost deafening.

Two hostiles manage to get a hold of him, and over their massive shoulders Kyle watches in horror as the target pulls Ellis up over the window’s edge, and lets go.

“Corporal Ellis is falling, I repeat, the Corporal is falling!” Ghost yells. Gaz’s heart hammers away at his chest, his breaths becoming shorter and heavier.

Through the cacophony of combat, anger and agony, one voice stands out from the rest.

The HVT’s mirthful laugh, high and grating as he watches Ellis fall down, down, down-

Gaz screams, grabbing the arms around him, and reverting gravity on all three of them. He lowers his head, avoiding the ceiling. His attackers, however, are taken by surprise, and hit their head against the concrete with a sickening thunk.

The laughter ceases, but he pays it no mind. If Gaz jumps off now, he could strengthen the effect of gravity on himself, and fall faster, reach Ellis before the ground does-

A sniper shot splices the air beside him, the bullet hitting the floor, Ghost’s voice loud when he calls out, “Gaz-!”, Kyle turning around to find the stock of a rifle approaching his face, his foot slips, and-

His vision goes dark.

He’s going to die. The wind beats at his body, howling and shrieking and stealing the air from his lungs. He’s going to die. The city lights smear and create blinding trails at his periphery.

He’s going to die.

Kyle locks onto a dark shape, several feet below him, and the fog of panic clears for long enough for him to remember why he’s falling.

Ellis. He fell before him. He’s going to die.

But Gaz won’t. His powers rush forth, otherworldly ribbons wrapping around his fingertips at his command. Instead of hanging from the sky, he orders them down.

They’re about 100 feet from the harsh asphalt roads when he starts descending at an inhuman speed, eyes watering and muscles trembling from the lack of oxygen, but it doesn’t matter, not until he touches Ellis, not until he pulls him back from certain death.

50 feet. 40. 30. 20. 10-

Kyle barely manages to brush a finger on Ellis’ tacvest before he pulls back, his face mere inches from the ground. His eyes are closed, his mouth gaping as he takes in air for the first time in minutes.

He heard the crunch. He knows his ribbons didn’t wrap around Ellis. Yet, there’s a little naive voice in his mind, holding onto hope that the Corporal has been saved.

The screams of the ground team tell him otherwise.

Kyle releases his powers, his body dropping. Voices echo around him, words unintelligible through the rushing blood in his ears.

Ellis is dead. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. You failed again, he screams at himself in the recesses of his mind.

Kyle chokes on a sob, only then registering the tears flowing down his cheeks. He curls further into himself. Selfishly, he doesn’t want the others to see his pathetic crying. Not only did he fail, he’s also weak.

Someone touches his shoulder, and he freezes. His eyes are glued to the dark grey of the road below him, its rough texture digging into his trembling palms. The voices stray closer, words still incomprehensible but concern clear, and yet he refuses to lift his head.

He doesn’t want to see Ellis. He knows what gravity does to a person, how it tugs at their limbs until they break, how bones stab at soft flesh, how muscles are ripped apart like a rag doll’s stitches. He knows, saw five different bodies, all twisted beyond recognition, by the very power he controls. The memory makes bile rise to his mouth, acrid taste spreading on his tongue. The sight of mangled soldiers, the smell of burning fuel, the whistle of an RPG.

If only he was strong enough to truly control it.

The hands tug at him more forcibly now, attempting to roll him over, but Kyle resists. His mouth tries to form words, but only whines and muted sobs stream from his clenched teeth.

‘Leave me alone’, he wants to whisper. ‘I already know I failed’.

A deeper voice rumbles above him, and the hands stop and leave. Kyle hears the rustling of fabric before the voice begins calling his name.

“-arrick. Sergeant. We need to know if you’re broken.”

He shakes his head, shoulders shuddering along his sobs.

“You’re not injured? Good.” the voice answers calmly, as if they’re not sitting beside a dead body, blood pooling, bones sticking out of place-

“Stay with me, soldier. Focus on me.” the voice orders, and Kyle knows, somewhere in his fractured mind, that he needs to listen.

He risks lifting his gaze a little towards the voice, a knee clad in dark pants coming into view, “you’re safe, Gaz. Take all the time you need to collect yourself. The others won’t bother you now.”

He nods minutely, wanting to show his gratitude to the voice, but refusing to lift his head any higher.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and Kyle tries to keep his focus on the person in front of him, but his brain continues to pull at his thoughts, get them to drift to Ellis, his cooling body dead not 3 feet from them-

“You know why blind people don’t like going skydiving?”

Kyle blinks down at his hands. What…?

“‘Cause it scares the shit outta their dogs.”

…That’s the dumbest joke he’s ever heard. What’s dumber, that it’s actually making him huff in amusement.

“That deserves at least a little laugh.” the voice sulks, the deadpan quality of it making their words funnier to Kyle.

He clears his throat before saying, “all that deserves is a groan of disappointment, Lieutenant.”

His head lifts to look at Ghost’s dark eyes behind his skull mask, “you wound my poor feeble heart, Garrick.”

A wobbly smile spreads on his lips, before he slowly looks away from the Lieutenant at the scene around them.

They must’ve already moved the body, leaving dark red blood seeping into the cracks in the road as the only sign anything went wrong. Some combat medics have stayed behind, but from the look on their face Kyle can tell they’re too afraid of Ghost to get any closer.

He casts a questioning look at the Lieutenant, who sighs, “they shouldn’t toss you around while you’re in shock.”

Kyle frowns, “they didn’t ‘toss me around’, but… thanks.”

Ghost simply hums.

It takes him a few more seconds to gather the courage to ask, “the mission… did it fail?”

Did I make us fail?

Ghost regards him with narrowed eyes, “HVT has been secured and is in transport awaiting questioning.”

He lets out a small sigh of relief, nodding.

The Lieutenant stares at him, “you did everything you could, Gaz.” he opens his mouth to disagree, but Ghost lifts a hand, “no. Ellis was dead the moment he was captured. If I was in your position, I wouldn’t have risked the mission, the team, myself to try and save him against the odds.”

Kyle sputters, “but- I didn’t save him.”

“But you tried.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s dead!”

Ghost’s tone lowers dangerously, “it may not matter to Ellis, but to the rest of your squad? His teammates? They know you tried, and they will remember in the future that Sergeant Garrick will endanger his own life for his subordinates.”

Kyle’s eyes widen, Ghost’s voice gaining a somber tone, “you haven’t had a lot of experience in leading.” he half-states, half-asks, so Kyle shakes his head.

“The trust your men have in you is fragile, and invaluable. Today, you’ve gained something many others can’t. You have respect, the kind that is hard-earned in battle.” His eyes look away, lost in memories Kyle will probably never be privy to, “that’s why it matters.”

He thinks back to the way everyone approaches Ghost, fear and awe in their eyes, “are you talking from experience?”

Ghost’s eyes refocus on him, “my soldiers respect me because I’m powerful. They respect me out of terror, not trust.”

“Respect is respect, no?”

“None of them would risk their lives to save mine, if it came to it.” Ghost rises to his feet, “respect born of fear is weak compared to respect born from admiration.”

A gloved hand, adorned with skeletal markings, is offered to him. Kyle takes it, allowing Ghost to pull him up to his own shaky legs.

Gaz takes a good look at the grotesque mask, at the appearance that signals danger and unmatched strength. 

And at the hand in his, grip powerful enough that he doesn’t have any doubt it will catch him if he falls.

“I trust you, Lieutenant.”

Ghost freezes, before he begins walking towards the parked vehicles, “your mistake, Sergeant.”

Gaz follows, believing wholeheartedly in his words.

“I’m planning on building a task force.” Price begins the moment Gaz settles into the office chair in front of him, “a revenant-only task force.”

“And you’re inviting me?” he exclaims in disbelief.

“Don’t sound so surprised, Kyle, we both know your powers are extremely rare.”

Still, to be chosen by the Captain Price out of everyone…

“You’re giving me too much credit, son.” Price’s moustache twitches up with a hidden smirk, “I’ll take it as a yes?”

Gaz nods resolutely, “yes, sir!”

“That’s what I want to hear. Any questions?”

The words “no, sir” are ready on his tongue, but he retracts them to instead ask, “are there any other members yet?”

Price scans him for a moment, before he pulls out a folder, “you remember Ghost, I presume?”

He can see how Price clocks in the excitement in his mind, “of course.”

A warm smile crinkles Price’s blue eyes. He rises, offering Gaz a hand to shake. Gaz takes it.

“Welcome to Taskforce 141, Kyle.”

[fridge-reviews]

The Best Games of 2023

Welcome once again to the my personal list of games I enjoyed this year. Yep, it’s my list, feel free to disagree with me but it won’t change anything. So, here are the rules;

These are games that I’ve played and reviewed this year.

The list is in alphabetical order, its not a top 10, these all feature because of how good I consider them to be.

The games don’t have to have been released this year.

Everyone clear on the rules? If not feel free to reread them.

Beacon Pines

This is a game I backed on Kickstarter after watching one of my favourite Youtubers showcase it. I absolutely loved this game to the point of feeling sad when I had completed it that it was over. This game totally captivated me and had me want to explore the various endings it has.

Curse of the Dead Gods

This is a roguelite game of risk and reward, do you keep the rooms lit and see what enemies are coming for you or do you fight in the darkness where your attacks are more potent but you can't see what's coming until its upon you. That is only one of the many risks you can take that may grant rewards, curses and glory await you within this game.

Inscryption

If Daniel Mullins creates a game I have to play it, that's how it works at this point. Inscryption preys upon one of my weaknesses in both video and real games... deckbuilding. But once I thought I had a handle on the mechanics, they shifted and everything changed. Play this game and marvel at how strange and wonderful it is.

Metal Gear Rising: Revengance

“Gloriously stupid”, that's how I described this game and I'm sticking by that statement. It's so massively over the top in everything it does. An absolute must play!

Road 96

This game was something special. You could call it a walking simulator but that would not do this game justice at all. What makes this game special are the characters you meet as you go through your various playthroughs, from incompetent bikers to conflicted truckers and cops who just want to do good when surrounded by the bad ones. I've recently bought the separate expansion 'Mile 0' because I just want to experience it again (but differently).

Shadowrun Games

Okey, this is a bit of a cheat since this is about three games at once but I'm still counting it. My favourite of the three was Shadowrun: Hong Kong because of the way the story builds up. If you're ever in the market for a cyberpunk game (that isn't Cyberpunk 2077) I heartily recommend these.

System Shock (Remake)

Another game I backed on Kickstarter, and I'm so glad I did. I loved System Shock 2 and always found it very hard to go back it's predecessor. This remake removed the clunkiness of the old game for me entirely.

Toem

Toem is a wonderful, slow paced game all about photography. Photography is something of a passion for me so this game really spoke to me. Of course, there is more to it than merely taking virtual pictures, there are puzzles, quests and side missions to accomplish.

Unpacking

Cosy games seem to be a genre that's growing in popularity quite quickly and this game is pretty much the poster child for the genre. Something I really appreciated about the game was the unfolding narrative that you uncovered from what you unpacked into the various rooms and houses you followed the character into.

Vampire Survivors

Just as Unpacking is the poster child of the cosy genre Vampire Survivors is the poster child (and possibly the original progenitor) of the 'bullet heaven' genre. What I find rather amazing is the level of support this game has been given by its creator, with lots of regular free updates that add in content as well as a couple of paid for expansions it really feels like this game will never truly die.

----

This year has been amazing for those of us that love to play video games, with lots of truly fantastic games appearing with regularity. Of course, that hasn't been the case for the ones creating the games, developers are still being fired and removed for all sorts of stupid reasons and of course they like to target the newly established unions. I hope more unions appear and give these corpos the bloody nose they are asking for.

[star-aether]

Doomed to run forever.

[toaarcan]

Sorry Vasyana, you found a death church and you're going to end up with a bunch of assholes and goth theatre kids as your followers.

[mayasaura]

why do you think cytherea targeted the fourth the way she did? we know why she killed the fifth, and we know why she killed people generally, but the writing in blood and the chasing jeanne after killing isaac feels weirdly personal

It does seem personal, yeah. I'm sure it was intended to. I'm also sure it wasn't. I doubt Cytherea even noticed they were people enough to have beef with them.

Let's look at her goals:

She's using the heirs as bait to get John's attention, but doesn't want to make the real stakes apparent. So she kills them off, one by one, slasher movie style. She's playing with them, creating a narrative so that when the terrified survivors call for help, John is curious enough about whatever theory they've come up with to come take a looksee.

That's probably why she planted the idea of vengeful angry ghosts so early. She knows it's something that's bound to get John's attention without alarming him enough for him to be on the defensive. His old house is haunted by violently angry revenants? That doesn't sound right, but you never know with ghosts. Seems both interesting and a bit concerning, he'd better take a look.

The Fourth specifically were targeted because their investigation into Abigail and Magnus' murder posed a threat to her plan. They had found Dulcinea and Protesilaus' ashes in the incinerator and raised the alarm, which put them way too close to asking the right kinds of questions. Like: "Whose ashes are these?" and "Is this connected to the other murders?" They had to die, and they had to die in a way that drew attention away from their investigation and lent credence to Cytherea's angry ghost narrative, or the story they had to tell when they called John might be a little too close to the truth to get the intended effect.

So. Giant bone monster in the basement laboratory, a sleeping child skewered in a locked room, and ominous writing in the victim's blood. A tableau designed to be so horrifyingly personal it doesn't occur to anyone it might have been pragmatic.

[aclickbaittitle]

What do Fiction Podcasts have to say about the future?

Whenever you write a story set years from now, how you construct the world around it creates a new way to see the future, a fictional image to a reality we could be headed towards.

Fiction podcasts love to play within the sci-fi genre, and the thousands of audio dramas they have given us new pictures of what our world could look like in the next century (or a few years closer).

In this article I want to analyze the settings in the following shows: Hello from the Hallowoods, Desperado and The Strange Case of Starship Iris.

Hello From the Hallowoods

Hello From the Hallowoods welcomes us to a world ravaged by black rains and capitalism’s greed. After a natural (but man-made) disaster involving acid rain and flooding the world’s successions gave birth to two different types of beings: those who prefer to dream in a company’s “Prime Dream” and those who stay awake to continue living.

Even though the world is post-apocalyptic on paper, it never feels like it. Rather it is enchanted, there are woods where gods, revenants, devils, giants and zombies fall in love with themselves and with each other, places where community is found.

This, I attribute this to the fact that most characters don’t lament a nebulous “end of the world”, since this is the world they have always been living in and they are going to make the best of it: find family, friends, lovers, build homes and destroy bigots.

You leave the world of Hello From the Hallowoods knowing that even a doomed world is worthy of being awake for.

Desperado Podcast

Desperado Podcast also takes us to a world that was looted, but this time mainly by religious colonialism. 

Neo-colionalism has made itself tangible through genocides and direct targeting to believers that worship other than the “Old man in the Sky”.  In its first episode a community in México which revere La Catrina (a goddess in the show inspired by a popular figure in mexican art) is wiped out by the crusaders. 

From there our protagonist Elio is the sole survivor of his people, however all is not lost as he teams up with Talia (the chosen of Baron Samedi) and Shinji (whom I believe is a death kami?).

Elio now literally carries the memories of his community as the vessel for her goddess. Likewise in Desperado, the magic of the characters is the legacy their ancestors gave them, and it is what keeps them alive in the violent world. 

Though if we are ever to worry that our protagonist could fall into its clutches, the structure of the world soothes our preoccupations. You see, it is the characters within the story that are narrating their own experiences to the audience so we know that after all the pain, they ended up safe.

What Desperado tells us about the future is that, even with the ongoing genocides, white-washing of our culture, and neo-colonialism in general we will end up victorious in the end, and that our history will be forever within our memory.

The Strange Case of Starship Iris

The Strange Case of Starship Iris, is the most sci-fi audio drama out of the bunch. It follows the crew of the Rumour, a smuggler's ship, as they try to uncover the dark secrets of the Federation and evade persecution.

As with the other two properties, the future is not an easy world, but our characters are making the most of it.

In a post-war galaxy, the crew of the Rumour is smuggling space-ship parts, medicine, and erotic magazines until they find a help alarm coming from the Starship Iris and rescue biologist Violet Liu. From there they are involved in a mystery which, if the truth comes to life, they could be charged with treason against the Intergalactic Republic. 

Throughout the two seasons of the podcast, Violet Liu and company heal together the scars that the war and its result: the Intergalactic Republic left them. They fight against the government not only through robberies, infiltration, and coordinated efforts with rebel groups but also by eating latkes, drinking, singing shanties, and getting gay jewish married.

To conclude

if queer podcasts are telling us something about the future, it is that it may be equally messed up as the present but that queer, disabled people of color will exist beyond the end of the world and that even in the bleakest of futures we will continue to love and thrive.

[makethosenarratorsfight]

UNRELIABLE NARRATORS; SIDE C

*NOTE; propaganda is out of order due to poll length!

Eugenides Propaganda:

the entire plot hinges on a detail he lets the reader (and every other character) assume is true. I don't want to spoil it because it's a really fun reveal but he is lying from the first second he appears on the page and you can't trust him to tell the full truth about ANYTHING related to himself and his goals. he mostly does it to keep his advantage and not have other characters be suspicious of him but it's just so fun when you realise he's been lying the whole time

Harrowhark Propaganda:

She gave herself a lobotomy and gives completely incorrect flashbacks to the previous book. Things that straight up did not happen. Gaslight gatekeep girlboss.

She’s schizophrenic (confirmed by the author) and also lives in a world with necromancy and ghostly revenants. She’s not just an unreliable narrator for readers, she’s an unreliable narrator of her own internal experience. She knows this and has to work with people around her to compensate for it. Descent into spoilerville below. Seriously Do Not Read if you want to read these books. There’s also the little matter about how she is *not actually the narrator* of a huge chunk of the story that we are initially led to believe is being told from her perspective.

(Spoilers) Holy shit she is THE most unreliable narrator. This gremlin gave herself a lobotomy so that she could forget about Gideon Nav, the most important person in her life (for magic soul-preserving reasons) so half of the second book in the series is spent gaslighting the reader about a book they just read. She comes up with an entire alternate version of the events of the first book in the series to carefully exclude any mentions of Gideon, and any time someone says ‘Gideon’ in front of her she LITERALLY has a stroke and/or an intercranial hemorrhage as her brain overwrites the word with someone else’s name. God occasionally intentionally triggers her memory revision to get out of difficult conversations. She also hallucinates ALL the time (unrelated to the lobotomy). She shows up at her frenemy’s room in the middle of the night (think little kid stumbling to their parents’ room and saying “I frew up”) to ask her to come check underneath her bed for the corpse that’s been wandering the space station. When frenemy checks underneath the bed, frenemy claims not to see anything, and Harrow is such an unbelievably unreliable narrator that it’s an open question in the fandom as to whether frenemy genuinely didn’t see the corpse or if frenemy was just yanking Harrow’s chain. Harrow is also haunted by a literal ghost that fucks up her already fucked up alternate history. Girlie will pick up a piece of paper and read from it the most violent and haunting piece of prose ever composed, when in reality all that’s written on the paper is the elementary school Superman S*. I am NOT joking that is a real goddamn scene. Harrow was created to win this poll. TLDR; she has brain damage and memory loss, she hallucinates, and is also haunted. * https://twitter.com/vestenet/status/1301012651145859072

Girl is so unreliable, she unreliably tells me events I was there for!!! She's retelling the previous book and I'm like "girlie, this is absolutely not how it happened". Also, she gave herself a DIY lobotomy, it has to impact your memory center I guess

She literally had a lobotomy, how can she be reliable

More Propaganda under cut!

Harrowhark is simply the unreliable narrator of all time. Can’t remember shit because of a lifetime of trauma? Check. Maybe lying to yourself and those around you a bit? Most definitely. Being gaslit by the survivors you depend on to orient you to reality? For sure. How about a little bit of canon schizophrenia? She’s got it all. Ghosts? Or something? Spirits that are attached in some way to your body and are not perceivable by others? Sure, sure! But how about spirits that are attached in some way to your body and are gonna use you to hijack others’ bodies and maybe kill God, too? Absolutely. Wee bit of DIY brain surgery? If it would make you an unreliable narrator, friends, then Harrowhark Nonagesimus has been there, been subjected to that!

Okay I don't know that much about this series since I haven't convinced myself to read all of the first book, but this is my blorbo in law so I'd feel bad not spreading propaganda (all of what I'm saying is something I've read, as to prevent myself from straight up submitting misinformation). So all of Harrow's unreliable narration takes place in the second book, Harrow the Ninth. Basically, without her even seemingto acknowledge it, Harrow's brain is very fucked up during this book, to the point where even she's not sure how reliable her narrative is. There's many questions left unclear as a result of her fucked up little brain, like what's real, what's fake, whether we can trust her judgement, whether even she can trust her own judgement, whether her original cavalier is dead or not (Harrow is convinced she is), etc. Let me tell you, I adore unreliable narrators who aren't even that sure if they're reliable. I have yet to eat that trope up here in this circumstance, but this poll might not run again by the time I do, so for now, here's my messed up blorbo in law.

OKAY SO REMEMBER MY GIDEON SUBMISSION? HARROW DOESN’T! SPOILERS AHEAD BECAUSE SHE LOBOTOMIZED HERSELF TO FORGET GIDEON BECAUSE THAT’S A HEALTHY WAY TO GRIEVE AND THEN IN THE ONLY PARTS OF HER BOOK THAT SHE NARRATES (THE REVISED CANAAN HOUSE PARTS) IT’S LITERALLY A ROOM FULL OF GHOSTS HER BRAIN SUMMONED TO DEAL WITH THE FACT THAT SHE CUT HER BRAIN IN HALF TO FORGET GIDEON. she also is a) haunted and b) psychotic, experiencing hallucinations her entire life of both the ghosts haunting her and less supernatural hallucinations- bells tolling, bones rattling, her parents (some of the only dead people NOT haunting her), etc! in the revised history of canaan house that her brainghosts invent, she brings along someone who knows about her psychosis to help reality check her when she tells him go! her caregiver as a child and support when she got older, crux, is a horrible man- but at one point, when someone other than harrow is in harrow’s body and tells him “i am not harrowhark, i am sorry,” his response is simply “aye, you’ve said that before too. who are you then, if not my lady harrowhark?” showing his familiarity with her psychosis and his love for the child he wouldn’t dare see as a daughter. but enough about that lets talk about her unreliable narration! she lies about her feelings of course but she also simply hides the truth from everyone, all the time, compulsively. also literally the entire section of her book that she narrates is a lie she’s telling US about a lie she’s telling HERSELF and no one understands even a little bit of the truth until like the last act of the book. queen.

[spacedustmantis]

list of shipnames in jrwi and who they are referring to

this is (and probably forever will be) a work in progress. i plan on expanding this list with any and all shipnames i come across, so if you want to see the up-to-date list, make sure to open the original post. also feel free to send me shipnames that are missing from this list to my inbox or over dms.

note: not all of these are extremely common or in circulation quite yet, but you might encounter them every now and then anyways.

note x2: for some of these ships there are multiple names in use, i tried to sort them by how common they are (most common to least common)

‼️ important disclaimer! this is an archival work, meant to list as many ship names as possible for a variety of uses. this means this list does include ships that might be triggering for some. regardless of my feelings about it, abusive, unrealistic, or violent ships as well as underage and incest are pretty much always a facet of fandom, and as such they are represented here, partially to give people the necessary information to be able to circumvent being confronted with said content (e.g. via muting tags) should they want/need to. ‼️

riptide:

pc/pc

fish and chips (fnc): chip/gillion

navyseal: jay/gillion

mockingjay/phoenix: chip/jay

poly pirates: chip/jay/gillon

pc/npc

catnip: chip/la alma

sailorsong/scarlet captains: chip/jazz

fools gold/bargaining chip: chip/niklaus

drunken sailors: chip/caspian

chiptune/chipped crown: chip/queen

stoneflame: chip/igneous

midnight memories: chip/drey

homeowners association: chip/ensa

tboy polycule: chip/jazz/igneous

birdbolt/clockwork rivals/women in STEM: jay/ensa

pistolwhip: jay/lizzie

sharpshooter: jay/kira

bloodshot: jay/anastasia

sheshells: jay/edyn

artemisanchor: jay/aslana

songbird: jay/queen

bloodbath: jay/anastasia/aslana

hook, line and sinker: jay/edyn/lizzie

jay's harem/let's go lesbians: jay/her many girlfriends (ever changing, always evolving)

swordfish: gillion/caspian

dealbreaker: gillion/niklaus

sea shanty: gillion/queen

goldfish/dragonfish: gillion/clorten

sunken anchor: gillion/marshal john

catfish: gillion/kuba kenta

destined sails: gillion/caspian/marshal john

fish and chips and more fish: chip/gillion/caspian

manlet, manwhore, manslayer: chip/gillion/niklaus

sea sharp: chip/gillion/queen

deal with the devil (dwtd): chip/jay/gillion/niklaus

bardic inspiration: chip/jay/gillion/queen

full ensemble: chip/jay/gillion/queen/jazz

npc/npc

drearl: drey/earl

watergun: drey/finn

old man yaoi/drearlinn: drey/finn/earl

cattlepunk: drey/ichabod

roseshot: drey/captain rose

dreyson: drey/jayson

metal detector/gunmetal/robopanda: alphonze/gryffon

popshot: gryffon/queen

precious metals: gryffon/igneous

seawitch: niklaus/edyn

frigatebird/warbird/waning crescent: lizzie/ava

fighting chance/boxer briefs: la alma/clorten

naval orange: marshal john/amanda rinn

message in a bottle: marshal john/edyn

field medic: marshal john/rudith

rose tides: lizzie/edyn

rosewater: lizzie/caspian

lunar eclipse/sea serpents: ava/lizzie/edyn

smoothjazz/singing the blues: jazz/caspian

jam session: jazz/queen

saltwater pearl: caspian/edyn

soundwaves/sea shanty: caspian/queen

pearlescent: edyn/aslana

hammer to fall/songsmith: queen/alasse

lamprey: anastasia/aslana

starcrossed survivors/starstruck: zamia/star

apotheosis:

pc/pc

angelstone/stonesong: peter/rumi

deicide: rumi/thanatos

tech support: peter/thanatos

eldritchstrings: rumi/exandroth

pc/npc

divineshifter/shape4shifter: rumi/rhymir

prime defenders:

pc/pc

ghostknife: william/vyncent

ghostkicks/blue raspberry: william/dakota

cardiac arrest: william/dakota/ashe

dancebattle/spacejam: vyncent/dakota

revenant/wispy winters/evildead/haunted house: william/ashe

tomeblade/gamecube/demondagger: vyncent/ashe

demonkicks: dakota/ashe

polypd: william/vyncent/dakota/ashe

pc/npc

decharge/soulfire: william/doug

sunghost/sunshade: william/summer

parasol: william/vyncent/summer

spare the dying/exquisite corpses: william/cantrip

ghostlysigns: william/jimmy

npc/npc

tidalwave: tide/mark winters

suntrip: summer/cantrip

doodlejump/pencilfrog: le frog/pencilman

cops and froggers: le frog/officer frank

zebrafish: tide/harlem

car manual: wordsmith/pretender

shooting star: mrs g/lightspeed

shadowfold: harlem/jason

blood in the bayou:

pc/pc

keeperschampion: rand/rolan

rollingstones: kian/rolan

smokeshow: kian/rand

nightmare blunt rotation (nbr): kian/rand/rolan

pc/npc

heartstrings: kian/becky

meddling kids: kian/rand/rolan/becky

bleacher ghosts: kian/becky/jesse

milf season: kian/donna

private performance: kian/donna/john

the suckening:

pc/pc

guarddog: emizel/shilo

alleycat: emizel/arthur

royal pain: shilo/arthur

boynabbing: emizel/shilo/arthur

pc/npc

fizzfangs/monster energy: emizel/soda

backalley kiss: emizel/gabriel

armored pheasant: shilo/grefgor

woodland prince: shilo/grangel

vampistol/shadowhorse: arthur/deacon

burnt stake: arthur/magnus

wisdomtooth: arthur/viv

wailing crown: emizel/shilo/vex/viv

npc/npc

weylincest: viv/vex

wailing flesh: viv/vex/the unseen one

total monster kill

n/a

wonderlust

pc/pc

featherfall: troy/blink

pc/npc

lintroller: troy/lint

old campaigns and one-shots under the cut

mythborne

supernova: connor/aster

achilles heel: connor/ryan

sunspot: aster/ryan

paperball: ryan/gary

spotlight: connor/aster/ryan

playwrat: connor/aster/ryan/romeo

final episode one shot

bluecherrylite: cherry/jebediah/aren

jebebriadic/ringbearers: jebediah/brian

twitch chat one shot

hoofin' it: icarus/gravel

convergence:

krangle: kasper/strangle

the fated:

br'aaxi: br'aad/taxi

scythebelts: sylnan/velrisa

kathnan: sylnan/katherine

sylgarth: sylnan/ugarth

velriana: velrisa/oriana

[thatswhywelovegermany]

Nachzehrer

Nachzehrer (after-feeder) is the term commonly used in German folk belief for a revenant or undead creature that is very closely related to vampires and shares a number of essential characteristics with them.

Contrary to a long-standing belief in folklore studies, the distribution area of ​​the Nachzehrer is by no means limited to the partly Slavic regions in the east and north-east of Germany, but was also widespread in the west as far as the Rhineland. There, when old cemeteries in the Eifel were being abandoned, skeletons were discovered lying face down—a clear sign of the burial of a corpse that was considered dangerous.

The legends and oral traditions describe the Nachzehrer as follows: In contrast to the vampire, who must leave his grave, the Nachzehrer lies or sits underground and sucks the vital energy from the living, usually his survivors or the inhabitants of his village. With this idea, it must be mentioned that most traditional reports of vampire attacks do not speak of bloodsucking at all, but rather vaguely of "strangling" or "weakening" the victim. The Nachzehrer carries out his sinister work by "calling" his victim through his open mouth or by establishing a telepathic connection with him through his open "evil" eye. He often chews on his victim's shroud or even their arms until everything is gnawed away. As long as he is still chewing, people either die of starvation or of an epidemic. Anyone who dies as a result of the actions of a Nachzehrer does not become undead themselves, however. In order to effectively banish a potential Nachzehrer, appropriate measures had to be taken before the burial. Under no circumstances must the eyes or mouth allowed to be left open, which is why the dead person's eyes had to be closed without looking into them, as this would have established telepathic contact between the Nachzehrer and a future victim. Under no circumstances must the dead person's mouth allowed to come into contact with the shroud or any other piece of cloth. The corpses were often tied up, sometimes only symbolically, such as with a rosary around the wrists. Banishing metal objects (scissors, nails, knives) were often placed on the dead person's chest. The bereaved also frequently poured dried pulses or pebbles into the coffin. Popular belief held that the undead had to count these before they could begin their sinister activities. But since they was possessed by the devil, they could never eat more than two peas or stones, because they was not allowed to say the sacred number "three" (symbol of the Holy Trinity).

If it was nevertheless believed that a Nachzehrer had caused harm, the grave could be opened. Then the measures known from southeastern European vampire beliefs were carried out, such as beheading, cutting out the heart and staking.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was playing multiplayer Left 4 Dead and I was playing as Revenant Apex Legends, pouncing on survivors and giving them a free coupon.

[pupsmailbox]

HORROR ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ abyss. adelaide. alex. allure. alluria. amnesia. amnesty. annabelle. archer. ash. asher. ashton. athena. axe. axette. bates. beal. belial. belladonna. bellatrix. bellow. billy. blade. blair. bleedesse. bloodiesse. bones. bow. briar. brute. bubba. buffy. butcher. cain. caliburn. calyspo. carcass. carrie. carrion. casey. casper. chainette. chains. charley. charlie. chase. chris. chucky. claire. claymore. clear. colt. connor. corpse. craven. cross. crypt. cybre. cynthia. damien. danger. derry. desdemona. dove. dracula. drow. elisabeta. elmira. elvria. em. enigma. erin. eros. ethan. evelien. falchion. finale. finalis. finn. fleur. freddy. galatine. ghost. ghostesse. gladius. graves. grim. guts. harker. haunt. hound. howl. hunter. hush. ikino. jace. jane. javelin. jekyll. jesse. john. julie. kateline. kille. killer. killesse. killette. killire. killyr. knifesse. knifette. krueger. lamb. laurie. lavender. lenz. lillith. loomis. lorraine. lucien. lucy. machete. malice. massacresse. massacrette. max. maxine. megan. mia. michael. mike. mikey. molar. mors. morticia. mortis. myer. myers. necro. nephi. night. noir. norman. nyx. nægling. obsidian. onyx. ophelia. pandora. pearce. pike. pointe. pointette. pridwen. pyper. quentin. raven. reaper. renfield. retro. revenant. river. roadkill. rosemary. rot. ryker. sabel. sabre. sacrifesse. salem. samara. sawyer. scum. scythe. seraph. serene. sharpette. sharppe. shaun. shelley. sidney. slash. slasher. slashesse. slashette. slashine. slashire. slashyr. specter. spite. survivesse. survivette. sybil. syd. talia. thomas. verity. vesper. visage. viscera. vivo. warden. weaponesse. weaponette. weaponne. wendy. william. wraith.

PRONOUNS ⌇　aby/abyss. alien/alien. amnesia/amnesia. axe/axe. bat/bat. bite/bite. bla/blade. blade/blade. blood/blood. bone/bone. brain/brain. brutal/brutal. bull/bullet. bullet/bullet. camp/camp. chain/chain. chain/chainsaw. chainsaw/chainsaw. chase/chase. choke/choke. claw/claw. co/corpse. content/content. copy/copy. cor/corpse. corpse/corpse. cry/cry. cryp/cryptid. crypt/crypt. dae/daem. dae/daer. dark/dark. de/demo. dea/death. death/death. dec/decay. decay/decay. die/die. eldritch/eldritch. evil/evil. fear/fear. fie/fire. fien/fiend. final/final. flesh/flesh. fog/fog. freak/freak. fury/furious. gau/gauze. gauze/gauze. gho/ghost. ghost/ghost. gloom/gloom. gnaw/gnaw. go/gore. gor/gore. gore/gore. gra/grave. grave/grave. gun/gun. gut/gut. hallow/hallow. haun/haunt. haunt/haunt. horr/horror. horror/horror. house/house. hunt/hunt. hush/hush. k9/k9. ki/kill. kill/kill. kni/knife. knife/knife. lash/lash. lethal/lethal. live/live. machete/machete. maim/maim. mallet/mallet. mask/mask. massacre/massacre. med/medical. medi/medical. monster/monster. murder/murder. night/night. no/none. point/point. point/pointy. pois/poison. prey/prey. pyr/pyramid. red/red. reveil/reveil. revive/revive. rib/rib. rip/rip. rodent/rodent. rot/rot. run/run. sacrifice/sacrifice. scream/scream. scythe/scythe. shadow/shadow. sharp/sharp. sharp/sharpen. sharpen/sharpen. sin/sin. slash/slash. slash/slashe. slash/slashed. slash/slasher. slasher/slasher. slice/slice. sly/sly. sni/snipe. sound/sound. stab/stab. stalk/stalk. steel/steel. step/step. survive/survive. survivor/survivor. tear/tear. thon/thon. tomb/tomb. trope/trope. vamp/vamp. victim/victim. voi/void. weapon/weapon. weep/weep. wound/wound. wra/wrath. ☠️. ⚰. ⚰️. ⚱. ⛧. ⛨. 🏥. 🏹. 🐀. 💀. 💉. 💣. 📿. 🔪. 🔫. 🕳️. 🛡️. 🥀. 🦴. 🧛‍♂️. 🧟‍♂️. 🧨. 🩸. 🩹.

[zannolin]

warren burgess is fablehaven's punching bag tbh like he can't win. book two when we meet him? cursed by a revenant. regains his faculties only to be stabbed by a minotaur, bitten by poisonous snakes, and hosed down in acid by a two-headed panther. book three? survivor's guilt and shadowification baby!! book four? this man gets gored by a flying deer and then trapped in an extradimensional storage room playing yahtzee for months. he cannot win and i love him for that.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep1 Musings - Dreams, Nightmares, and Faith

Wow. 😍 I love the new title card, with the bomber jets & explosions over upside-down...Paris? Romania? IDGAF--it's cool! I am SO glad AMC took us through war-torn Europe!

Something I found so interesting was the question of whether vampires dream or not.

(Armand stfu omg, him & Les both calling Claudia Infant Death 😅)

In the books, AR's vamps go into deathlike sleep--they're not really conscious, don't get woken up by much unless THEY'RE ready to wake up, and don't dream.

Vamps are like the dead, but UNdead--they're DAMNED. The damned don't get to wish for rainbows when they dwell in darkness. They die with their heartaches and grief, and spread it to others as harbingers of death.

In WWII Europe, societal vampires (Nazis, Soviets, etc) and actual vampires coexist, each preying on the innocent & vulnerable. Louis & Claudia literally tear through the battlefields and waypoints. I was wrong about them eating the dead/blown up body parts--they were feeding on dying soldiers, not ones already dead, but TBH at this point I don't know which is worse?

You feel sorry for Darciana and her revenant "child," sure, but there's also Morgan & Emilia--and what about everyone in that bunker (all those old women & kids), who'll probably starve now that their sole hunter/trapper can't get food for them anymore? Just so these serial killing vamps can eat!?!

Louis thinks "the blood is bad here" cuz they're drinking "misery and hopelessness" in war survivors & POWs etc; but really the misery & hopelessness is IN THEM. LOUIS is miserable (without Lestat). CLAUDIA feels hopeless (with Louis/her own companion). THEY (as vamps) bring misery wherever they go, internally & externally.

You're the walking DEAD, Louis. :( You will ALWAYS be cold. U_U

It's bad EVERYWHERE--love & community is what keeps people going--

--even in the middle of what seems like an apocalypse--be it WWII, or the "flying vampire apocalypse/Great Conversion." Even in a hellish place like the Theatre and the Children of Satan/Darkness. We all need/want a HOME.

Louis & Claudia have been stuck in a figurative nightmare, walking through the valley of the shadow of death along the Devil's Road. But poor AMC!Claudia has actual nightmares. 😭

She tells herself (through her diaries) that she doesn't dream, denying the suffering she goes through, trying to stay strong and not give her trauma power.

The tabula rasa of "infants" and child-like innocence that Armand refers to is just The Void for her. By avoiding her troubles, she's probably giving more power to the things that scare her the most.

AMC KNOWS what they're doing! Claudia's in denial too, and DreamStat's calling them BOTH out on it--but like Delainey said: unlike Louis, Claudia doesn't need a hallucination version of Les to tell her what she already knows--he's in her; he's her father--moreso than Louis, who only ever gets called "Daddy" now when they need to fake it! (Or is it REALLY fake for her? When she gets hurt, she yells for Daddy Lou's attention....)

There's her behavior with Louis', and her nightmares, compared to DreamStat. Cuz Louis' not asleep--he's wide awake, but being awake for him is like living in a nightmare with his eyes wide open. Louis said his own dreams were "erratic and often," but which ones is he even talking about, REALLY? His actual dreams? Or DreamStat; the figment of his imagination he admitted to "inviting" inside his head?

The Disney song goes "Have faith in your dreams and someday...the dreams that you wish will come true." For Louis his dream is obvs Lestat, and obvs by PLatRoA and Blood Communion Looustat's dream finally comes true. But for Claudia her dream is companionship, but also knowledge. She wants/demands answers.

(Only for us to find out 2 books later that all the legends really ARE true!)

Louis's having a crisis of faith--he is SCARED of his dreams, and what it says about himself, and has accepted his damnation with fatalistic & willfully blind cynicism--just like Armand does with the Childrren of Darkness/Satan, he's slowly losing his religion/faith in God (read: their "dead" exes: Lestat & Marius), while doubling down on the idea that they are damned and that all that exists is Hell/Damnation/Satan/etc.

He'd rather believe that baboons are roaming Europe than face another vampire who might reveal more about him than he's ready to accept.

He talks down to Claudia just like Lestat did; and constantly crushes her dreams by being a wet blanket. He gives her NOTHING positive or affirmative to look forward to.

Daciana's suicide is a wake-up call: she IS a good vampire (reltively speaking, ofc). She has dreams and wishes and loving feelings, too. She's visibly in emotional turmoil & pain, which Louis can relate to; acknowledging her as human, and finally looking forward to the future Claudia wants for all of them: companions sharing stories & knowledge & love; "we're a family?"

Louis COULD'VE followed Daciana into hopeless misery, but luckily he DOES have Claudia; them helping e/o to stay out of the fire.

And as sick as it is, Lou also has Lestat, and the comfort of knowing that no matter how bad he acts/gets, he's still alive.

There's still that glimmer of HOPE: "a spark in the dark."

As an aside:

Romania as the "ancestral home" of vampires is hilarious. Claudia's desperate to find out the truth--and she's close, for sure, as there are obviously vamps crawling all over Europe--but my heart just aches thinking about how mind blown Claudia would be if she found out that the REAL ancestral home of AR's vampires was Egypt.

Cinematic poetry, putting AR in the same frames where Louis talks about Dracula--only to drag vampire superstitions a few minutes in, as Louis and Claudia bicker over garlic & crucifixes. XD

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

Okay, I came up with a reason why Revenant may have "changed his mind", although it's a little bit of a shot in the dark:

(explanation below the cut for those interested)

TW: death mention & suicide mention below

So, for initial context:

When biological bodies (animal or human) take near-lethal damage or perceive they are about to die, there is a very strong chemical neurological kickback to fight like hell for one's life. Adrenaline is part of it, but people fail to realize how strong it can be and how severe that kickback can be.

In the very taboo documentary called The Bridge—which is a film about people who successfully and unsuccessfully committed suicide by throwing themselves from The Golden Gate Bridge—survivors are asked about their experiences during the fall. Consistently, during the fall to their perceived death, they state that everything that made them want to commit suicide in the first place becomes negligible. Suddenly, every seemingly unsolvable problem is solvable. Every bit of despair is vanquished. Every close tie that was severed can be tied back together. Suddenly, they don't just lose the want to die, they are rushed with the will to live. Many of these survivors give some of the most compelling testimonies as to why suicide is not the real solution, despite being paralyzed and permanently traumatized by their jump.

So that context given:

Revenant seems fine with his decision to die during the opening of this cinematic. He rolls his head to Loba and lets her (for some reason instead of shooting it), break the glass slowly with her staff to drive the equivalent of a stake through his eye.

Duardo teases his upgrades, which provides new power to him.

But also, the snap decision also occurs at a prime moment: Loba stabs and penetrates his eye, meaning she's one more blow away from killing him. (A stake into the eye will hit the brain, which with some rare exceptions is a killing blow.)

If Revenant still has any connection to how his biologics react (which it is heavily implies he does), that is the prime moment he would have the neurological kickback to live. Not just live, but fight to live. And Duardo just gave him new power to solve every problem in his head that might have led him to be so suicidal for so long.

He can claim this was always just him wanting to control himself, but I don't think he was playing 4D chess this whole time: I think that realization was the solution to his suicidal feelings mixed with the biological feralness to cling to life.

He is giving himself another chance.

What will that lead to?

Hard to say, but that is how I perceive the sudden change of heart he has.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON VORHEES (friday the 13th 2009)

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“Pretty Pastels & Marajuana Leaves” (Jason Vorhees x Fem!Reader)

| Walking with Jason as he gathers up (and adds to) all the dead bodies from the last group of victims unlucky enough to encroach on Crystal Lake.

| SFW, depictions of killing and dead bodies, reader is being held captive, post-movie -callous!reader

| Pic Source: Friday The 13th 2009

| 2k+ words

The trees on the campgrounds always seemed oddly unbothered despite whatever blood had fertilized the soil the night prior. It was as if over all the years of bloodshed the nature around it had adapted to derive nutrients from carnage.

Most days it certainly felt like blood hit the ground more so than it rained.

Today the sun was blazing even at eight in the morning, gearing up to be just as cruel and scorching as the revenant that watched over Crystal Lake every second of every hour.

Weeks ago when you and your friends had first set up camp here, so sure the lake’s protector was nothing but a ghost story, you hadn’t known just how much your life would change.

Beside you Jason, nearly blocking out the light from your left, leads the way. He’d only just dragged you around while he did his usual disposal rounds and picked up all the bodies to burn all at once in a massive pit you’d watched him dig; the usual drill.

You hadn’t been with this group of unlucky visitors this time around but you’d met one of them. Clay, looking for the woman you knew Jason had below the cabin; the guy's sister.

You’d give the girl one thing, she’d been trouble and it’d been a miracle when during her escape attempt none of them had stumbled across where Jason usually kept you. A happenstance you still weren’t sure how to feel about.

Regardless, there was certainly no running away for you now. Not only had Jason kept one survivor this time, he’d kept two, and one of them he’s seemingly still hellbent on keeping. In some way at least. You don’t feel particularly positive about Whitney’s chances, and you know after witnessing the rage Jason was thrown into after coming to retrieve you sopping wet and with a fancy new hockey mask later in the day than usual that Clay was even more doomed.

You sigh. The flowers are a nice view at least. They bloomed in grand hues of pastels with a freedom you’d probably never have again amongst the vibrant green grass. The ground is dewy, you’re wearing some victims boots from months ago as you traverse beside your captor, however unconventional of one he was.

Your steps squelch as you come up on a sea of marijuana. Green and thinly clover shaped as they were, you recognized them instantly.

Fun. You think, almost hysterically. Someone must have died for weed.

You smile. Of all the things.

The tall grasses have collected water during the downpour, as Mother Nature did Jason the favor of washing away all his sins, and droplets lightly dampen your pants as the greenery slashes at your legs.

For at least the fifth time since you started your treck Jason bends over in the grass. Behind his bulk you can’t begin to see what he’s doing but so long as he doesn’t make any sudden movements towards you you’re not gonna worry about it.

You hated when he brought you outside more than anything. The sheer malice of the illusion of freedom hurt too much. For as sweetly as he handles you - about as sweetly as you imagine he can at all - none of it could make you forget how brutally he’d slashed his way through your friends. You had zero idea why he’d spared you specifically, whether for amusement or companionship or what but you did know that you were still alive, and that unlike the other woman he’d taken captive he carted you around with him everywhere so long as visitors weren’t around.

The two of you stop outside the boat shack and the lake air sticks as insistently in the back of your throat as the mint leaves Jason makes you chew.

Jason opens the door for you but not before one huge arm swings into your chest. His touch is relatively gentle, you only jolt from it at all because you’d already been walking forward.

It’s a small bouquet of wildflowers that meets your gaze when you look down. You inhale softly.

“U-uh,” you try, voice scratchy from disuse. You clear your throat, “Tha-nks?”

Shaky hands reach up to accept the gift and with the assortment safely clasped in your hold you try speaking again.

“Thank you, Jason.”

The way you speak is nearly a whisper but Jason clearly hears you anyway if the way he vaguely puffs up and nearly carries you into the shack himself is any indication.

After that the route you take to the dugout is familiar; you don’t have to pay much attention to where you’re going. Jason’s steps are sure and heavy bouncing off the walls of the dugout, your own steps not even registering as you follow closely behind him while using the light from his lantern to more closely examine the “bouquet” he’s given you.

Calling it a bouquet at all was incredibly generous but you wouldn’t deny that an attempt had been made to make it look more impressive. A silk ribbon tied into a crude bow holds all of the stems together and some of the flowers weren’t from the field you’d walked through earlier either and the pastel colors of every flower were a stark contrast to the grungy look of the dirt walls around you. For now you’d take the gesture for what it was, but no matter how much you acted like it you were in no way content here, just biding your time.

The closer y’all get to Jason’s other captives the louder the sounds of struggle and vague whimpers get. Something in you should feel bad for them, you know that, but they’d had their shot and squandered the fuck out of it for everyone else involved including you. From what Jason had done his best to convey to you yesterday and the context clues you’d picked up on by yourself Clay and Whitney had drowned and maybe tried to strangle Jason but had stayed around to reminisce or some shit like a bunch of idiots and now here you all were.

Immediately upon seeing Jason Clay starts up a barrage of yelling. None of which Jason truly reacts to. The killer’s irritated, you can tell as much with how jerky his movements have gotten, but that’s about it. Clay’s wasting his breath.

It takes both of them a while to catch sight of you, hidden behind Jason’s back as you are, until he moves to gather up a bunch of rope he’s collected off to the side. It opens you up to the siblings fully and they stare at you confused.

Clay is still huffing angrily from earlier and even as he turns furrowed brows your way it’s Whitney who finds her voice first.

“What, are you helping him?”

Her voice is tinged with disbelief and your hands clench over your flowers.

Despite everything bleak and unsettling about your current predicament you find yourself laughing. It’s short, a little mean even.

“Does he look like he needs my help?”

No immediate retort. Clay’s eyes narrow.

“Wait, I know you,” he says. He shifts, chains rattling, “You were in the woods. You said you were staying in a ‘neighboring cabin’. I asked you about Whitney and you said you’d never seen her.”

As he talks he gets more and more incensed, pulling against his restraints like a madman. Jason remains unbothered by the commotion though so you make a point to not back away from Clay and his thrashing.

“You’re a monster,” Clay finishes. You don’t bother doing anything more than raising an eyebrow. You weren’t any Mother Teresa, you knew that, but even Mother Teresa didn’t live up to the myth of her own virtue so you’d live. You were surviving, if that made you a monster then so be it.

Jason turns back around, sheathed machete pulling off the impossible and managing to glint under the murky lighting, and Whitney turns wet pleading eyes your way.

‘Help us,’ she mouths, and even accompanied with Clay’s smoldering gaze over her shoulder you’re not swayed.

Help them with what plan? Get yourself killed trying to fight a behemoth of a man so they could get away more likely.

You scoff. Please.

When Jason hands you one end of the bundle of rope you don’t hesitate to shift your little bundle of pastels to one hand to grab it with your now free one. He ties clay up easily, brushing off his thrashing like a mom would to a curious baby getting its diaper changed, and throws the man over his shoulder to haul to the surface.

When Whitney pleads aloud at you for a second time to do something while they’re gone you ask her straight up what her plan is and when she comes up mum you shrug plainly.

“Then no,” you murmur, and she spits in your face.

You sigh, wipe the saliva off from where it landed under your chin, delicately stuff the bouquet flower-side up into the front of your overall pocket, and move to grab the two cinder blocks Jason had indicated before leaving.

If Jason was willing to kill her after going out of his way to kidnap her after she’d tried to escape only once - someone who looked nearly the splitting image of his own mother - you weren’t willing to take any chances and get yourself murdered too. Plus, black as you were, you weren’t passing for this man’s mother worth a damn; appealing to his longing for a long dead maternal figure wasn’t an option for you.

Carrying the blocks make your arms ache and the concrete scratches unpleasantly at your skin but when Jason descends to haul Whitney topside after her brother you soldier on quietly.

When Jason situates brother and sister across from one another on the damp ground near the lake you stay just as silent.

When he ties the the blocks to Clay’s bound body and basically presents him to Whitney like a prized pony your lips stay locked, and when he sets him down in front of her - so close they’re breathing the same air - and poises his machete like an executioner’s sword you don’t let the scream rip from your throat no matter how much you want to match Whitney’s mournful pitch and Clay’s desperate incoherent yelling.

The blade slices clean through Whitney’s neck, cutting off her voice with a sick gurgle. Blood spurts like a fountain from her headless body onto Clay’s face and you don’t do anything but stand stiff like you always do, hell bent on not being next, as he sputters and chokes on the endless gush of her lifeblood.

Her blood hasn’t stopped gushing even as her dead body falls forward into her brother. Tied up as he is Clay can’t begin to catch her and he certainly can’t keep his tentative balance himself either and they both go toppling to the ground.

In contrast Whitney’s head has long since rolled closer to your frozen form and you blink rapidly down at the terrified open mouthed expression forever etched onto her face.

The next breath you take feels like breathing through a straw and that lake air sticks down the column of your throat like dew drops.

Clay’s still yelling, but the blood and wet muddy earth lodged up his throat makes them come out more like low grunts and squeals. A pig to be slaughtered.

The desperate sympathetic gasp you let in barely makes a sound and your hands begin to tremble as Jason stomps over with more rope.

You bite back a whimper as he ties brother and sister together, uncaring of Clay’s begging him not to, then drags them off to the lake.

After that Jason drops Clay in with little fanfare. When next he ambles closer to you, flayed head in hand and large sprays of blood and splashes of water soaking his front, and leans over to press a masked facsimile of a kiss to your forehead you don’t make a peep.

Ever silent, you wipe the tears that have soaked the planes of your face away and stumble only slightly as Jason drags you with him to start yet another large bonfire fueled by bones and decomposing flesh.

You didn’t know if in the foreseeable future you’d ever be free, if you’d ever bloom as wildly and as freely as all those pastel pink swamp azaleas in the field or so much marijuana under the shade, but what you did know was that you wouldn’t ever let yourself end up as just another head propped up on that damn mantle in Jason’s cabin.

No matter what.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

Y’all I was supposed to get this out on Friday The 13th, but I fell asleep so now y’all get it on Saturday The 14th🫶🏾. The 2009 Remake is actually one of my favorite horror remakes and my favorite Friday film so it’s a little surprising that it took me this long to post a Jason fic, but whatever, I’m a slow writer anyway.

Also, mind any typos, I’ll get to them later.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[pityslash]

— “IN THE WATER.”

SHIP: bakugo x fem reader

DESCRIPTION: one year unexpectedly turned into two, you start to think all hope is lost in the apocalypse. spoiler warning: the real danger in the zombie apocalypse isn't the dead, it's the living.

TW: short series, apocalypse au, rawr rawr zombies & mild gore, descriptions of a panic attack, friends to lovers, main character injury.

　　I. WHO ARE YOU?

“please let there be something other than canned beans.”

you stood watch in front while he was looking around the back aisles. you two were in search of food, but everything else has been wiped out already. you weren’t excited about moving onto the next town.

it was cold out, you bury your face in the scarf around your neck when a shiver runs down your spine. occasionally you would see a few undead stumble towards you, empty eyes and its jaw hanging loose. you always took care of them quickly, you just have to aim for the head. “katsuki.”

it’s been years since everything turned to shit. when the bitten were who you feared and everyone you knew was gone. sacrifice or idiocy, it didn’t matter. but sometimes, you’ll catch a glimpse of the survivors —they always traveled in groups and you wanted to avoid them at all costs.

you had to remind yourself what kind of people would be left over, what morals they have.

the screams met deaf ears when katsuki saved you from this other man, grabbing his neck and throwing his body on the ground, the eyes of horror before getting a shot to the head. you shift slowly, shards of glass dig into your hands as he comes closer.

“you killed them.” you hated the way your voice trembles. blood leaks out of the holes in their heads, your throat tightens and aches like you’re about to cry.

it was like static noise on television, the buzz of city life only a memory in the back of your mind. now all you hear was the groaning of the undead, and the screams of those who weren’t resourceful enough.

your small moment of peace doesn't last long, broken by the slide of the glass door behind you and a pair of footsteps. you don't need to look over your shoulder to know who it is. “there’s nothing but dog food. some fucks must have found our stash.”

you can’t hide the disappointment on your face and it makes katsuki roll his eyes, pushing up the safety lever on the beretta 92 before sliding it back into the band around his waist. “i see more revenants coming this way, let’s go.”

katsuki holds out a hand and you take it.

the man took a glance at your arms and legs and you knew what you’d see from the excruciating agony. “yeah, should i have left you for dead?” he kicks your leg with his shoe, “maybe i’ll shoot you anyway, just in case.”

in case you were bitten? you were bleeding too much for it to be a bite.

“no— of course not!”

you hold your breath, bruised cheeks burning and you felt dizzy when he raised the pistol again, unblinking and focused. “stop yelling, jackass.” you can’t even look at him directly.

you’re shaking and everything hurts, and the blood everywhere makes you so scared, the gun pointed at you makes you so scared. it was the ease with which he saved your life, the complete lack of hesitation.

“keep zoning out and you’ll get lost again.”

“that was one time.” you take a deep breath, the smell of wet grass doing little to calm your nerves about being in the open like this. “how much further?”

“just a few miles.” katsuki says quietly, not a hint of hostility in his voice for the first time, and you nod, fighting to get your breathing under control. you wished, more than anything, that you had your anxiety medication.

“hey, relax. before you make yourself pass out,”

it took a long time to gain his trust, having to pack up the bedding while he took care of the rest before you two made it to the city, in case you made a run for it with days worth of food. the hours and hours on your feet and the whining while this man told you to shut up, struggling through a harsh winter.

but he was true to his word.

“it looks abandoned.” you look up at the house with boarded up windows and a wooden fence, it was too quiet. “wanna do it?” the sky was pretty and clear, finally warming up but that meant the undead would venture out again, too. katsuki sighs, “we can’t be too sure, be careful.”

you duck behind the car halfway up the driveway and creep up the stairs of the front porch.

the slits between the boards give you a limited view inside, seeing only the first room but there was a gate leading to the backyard, though it was chained up. katsuki kept watch while you tried the knob. it was locked, of course.

you share a glance and he held his gun at the ready with a nod. pulling out the crowbar from your backpack, you pry at the door as quietly as possible, the sound of wood splintering. it took a few tries but you finally eased the door open.

you two searched the house, both floors came up empty besides a few dead animals. there were four bedrooms, one belonging to a young girl and you wondered about the kind of family who once lived here.

smudged pencil marks on the door frame, glittery princess stickers peeling off the yellow walls. you find out the girl’s name and it didn’t make you feel any better.

the sun was setting so you two settled in for the night, putting your sleeping bags down in the living room and lighting a small candle. the house was empty and wasn’t completely falling apart. “here, take it.”

he was giving up his share. you offer half of the jerky and he reluctantly takes it, the grumble of his stomach enough to shut his mouth.

“thanks.”

for miles all that could be heard was the sound of running water and kicking a stone on the road, that random tune that got stuck in your head last night.

the sun was high in the sky and it reminded you that you’d have to meet with katsuki at noon. you were the one who suggested the split up to cover more ground even if he was reluctant.

“is it too early for lunch?” you asked no one, digging through your bag for the last of the jam and bread you packed before leaving home. things were getting harder every day, and you two were getting more and more frustrated when you came back empty handed.

you take a bite out of the bread and savor the blueberry jam, rich and sweet. katsuki would always tell you to make it last, maybe you’ll save him half.

you finally made it back to the market. those things always wandered about, and the place was too big to just walk inside hoping for the best.

so you knock your crowbar against the tile floor to call out any more undead but there was only silence. you start to go through the mess. sunflower seeds, some dented cans of tuna and fried apples, it must have been luck.

you were looking at the arrangement of dead flowers and think about taking a magazine with a cover that caught your eye, but then you heard a scream.

there’s gunshots and names thrown around as you rush over to see the commotion. you quickly see more undead thanks to all the noise, hoping katsuki wouldn’t come this way, because you could be stuck here for a while.

two kids were cornered just across the street, it used to be a barber shop, those disgusting things getting closer and closer. leave them or give into the last bit of humanity you had. “hey, this way!”

you call out to them from the other side, it was a little girl standing in front of the boy, who you assume was her brother. she cried in frustration when the gun clicked each time she pulled the trigger. revenants are fast, but they’re clumsy, so you could be faster.

you stab two in the head without breaking a sweat, they fall to the ground with a hollow thump. you make a run for it since more were drawn by the noise. “come on!”

they caught up quickly, the scraping of that girl’s shoes against the cement makes you want to cover your ears. “katsuma!” you hear from behind, turning to see her pick him up from the ground. he tripped.

“hurry!” you might have pushed their backs too hard if the squeak that left the boy’s mouth was any tell, struggling to keep up with their small legs. then you notice the alley, taking a sharp turn and yanking their arms to pick them up.

suddenly you were inside a heavy metal door, it was dark and they whisper as you slide down the handle and there’s a click.

“quiet,” you shush them, using your own body to shield them if worst turns to worst. you feel the boy bury his face in your shirt, grossed out by tears and snot, and the little girl squeezed your hand, so tight it felt like it’d bruise.

you were horribly out of breath, maybe even scared. but the undead finally passed —waiting a few minutes wouldn’t hurt. you listen as the groans and growls get far enough, taking a deep inhale and slowly moving away from the cool surface.

it was alright.

“we’re safe now.“ but you can't even turn back before there is something cold on the back of your head. this time she holds the gun with confidence, fingers on the trigger.

“put your hands up and close your eyes.” you feel your blood boil, the tone of this girl’s voice not sitting right but maybe that was the point. “don’t do anything dumb.. take the bag.”

you noticed the boy, katsuma, had dried the tears from his face and started to walk over while you slowly took off your backpack, which he took with shaky hands. “so i just saved you and now you’re robbing me?”

he must have been surprised it felt so heavy.

the girl snatches it from him. “we were fine, didn’t ask for your help.” sure seemed like it. you turn your head and watch her digging around in your backpack and you know katsuki will kill you.

“we’ll just take this, thanks. keep your eyes closed and count to fifty before you go.” she said, and for some reason you did.

the silence after their small footsteps fade out, even with your keen ear. you finally found katsuki waiting for you anxiously outside of the market.

“i heard the gunshots. what happened?” he was quick to ask and you were never one to hold back from him. too bad he was as upset as you expected. “—but you’re alright?”

the question made your smile get bigger, and you feign a small limp. “mm, i twisted my ankle so bad.” katsuki didn’t look impressed. “anyway.. katsuki, they could have been with a group, don’t you think? maybe they got separated.”

you made it home before dark. when you finally are able to shake off the feeling of being watched, you collapse on a chair in the dining room, the legs scraping against the floor loudly. katsuki drops his bag on the table and you make grabby hands, “so, what’s for dinner?”

“beans. and more beans.”

the look you give him makes katsuki glare back, opening the lid of one can. “don’t complain! next time, don’t let some kid take our shit.”

you snatch a can of beans and katsuki rolls his eyes, spoon flinging a bean at you from across the table. “didn’t your mom ever tell you not to play with your food?” but katsuki only gives a half smile, and it makes dimples dig into his cheeks. you swear you haven’t seen him smile before, or maybe you never noticed.

you two eat in silence and start to get ready for bed, doing one last house check and finally putting out the light. you stayed up a little longer though, wrapped in a small matted blanket as those kids have yet to leave your mind.

glancing out the window, stars bright in the unpolluted sky, you hoped they had a safe place to sleep tonight. you sigh and finally close your eyes, not that it makes a difference in the dark.