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americxn · 3 years

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“What happened? What the hell happened. Why do you make it so hard to love you?”

Kai Anderson x GN!Reader

This is definitely not good enough to enter, but I used the prompt from @tatesimper anniversary writing competition so I guess this is my entry? (fig, I’m so sorry for butchering such a good prompt lmao)

also, I realised when writing it that this could serve as a prologue to this fic:

https://americxn.tumblr.com/post/652835852669648896/paranoia

wordcount: 2.5k

warnings: genocide/murder mention, swearing (this is based off episode 11 of season 7)

The night air was cool on your exposed face as you took the front steps to the door of Kai’s house, not bothering to knock as you pushed it open, the warmth and light from within spilling onto the smooth concrete of the front step and pooling around your feet; having been in a committed relationship with Kai from a year and a half now, this house was practically your own. Stepping past the front porch after abandoning your shoes and jacket, you entered the uncharacteristic quiet of the house, scanning the hallway for any signs of life, usually abundant within these walls in the form of Kai’s blue shirt-clad, blindly deferential followers.

“Okay. A little bad news to start,” your body instinctively angled towards the voice, distinctly Kai, that sounded through the empty hall from the back room. You set off down the hallway, his voice growing in volume as you approached, somewhat confused. He hadn’t notified you of a scheduled cult meeting that evening and yet his tone of voice was threaded with the assertive cadence that he utilised only when addressing his followers. “It turns out finding a thousand pregnant women to murder is super hard. No one will ever accuse me of lacking ambition.” He continued as you reached the threshold to the large room at the back of the house that served as a secondary living room; breath catching in your throat, you halted, your hand reaching for the wood of the doorframe to steady yourself as the meaning of his words settled into you. To murder? “So, Night of a Thousand Tates is off.” A ripple of groans and dejected sighs rose from the small sea of men at Kai’s words, quickly falling silent to allow him to continue. “But, Night of One Hundred Tates is on.” His words sent a wave of prickly dread spider walking down your spine; he hadn’t told you about any of this. Killing a thousand pregnant women? You wanted to stride into the room with a bright laugh to wave away his abhorrent words and demand for the real reason that he had called a meeting. But you knew. A terrible, truth filled part of you was all too aware that he was deadly serious A chorus of thrilled cheers drifted up from the small crowd in twisted elation with the newly revealed knowledge that their hands would still be stained with blood by the end of the night. Your breath became too loud in your ears, your mouth turning utterly dry as you examined your suddenly empty mind for a solution to Kai’s monstrous plan that you could use to convince him to call it off. But you came up short, taking a small step back into the safety of the dimly lit hall, your back coming to press against the wall beside the open doorway to ensure that nobody would be able to see you eavesdropping from within. This was too far. Kai had done many questionable, twisted things over the past year but this... this was too far. You were full of self hatred for the amount of things that you had stood aside for and let Kai go ahead with, but not this. You refused to take so much of an ounce of accountability for this. Pulling your phone from the confines of your back pocket, you drew in a shuddering, grounding breath, your thumb working on the keypad. The digit shook as it pressed onto the screen, your teeth catching between your lower lip as your gaze flicked from the brightness of the device’s screen to the open doorway at your side. The sequence of 911 you had typed glared up at you, bathing the underside of your jaw in artificial light as you craned your neck, leaning forwards slightly to peer into the room. Kai stood by the far wall, his men arranged in a neat group before him, all sitting straight backed to attention on their chairs. Just behind Kai, displayed on the low table pushed against the wall were two silicone models of a woman’s torso, ripe with the swell of a baby within; one was positioned to the side as a cross sectional diagram, the other facing straight on, the small model of a baby in the third trimester curled up within the artificial uterus. Your attention snapped back to Kai as he took a step forwards to address the group. “Look under your chairs, I’ve handed each of you a unique list of targets, all ready to pop.” Your stomach twisted in horrified disbelief as the men all shifted in unison, pleasure curling the corners of their lips upwards as they read the names of the people they were soon to mercilessly slaughter. You watched with teary eyes as an impressively built, stocky man who you didn’t know the name of slowly lifted his hand to the ceiling, Kai’s eyes immediately flicking to him in agitation. “You raise your hand one more fucking time and I will cut it off.” The powerfully built man visibly shrunk down into his chair at Kai’s hissed statement of reproval but timidly uttered his question of “how do we know they’re all pregnant?” Kai’s eyes flashed in impatient annoyance as he tore his eyes off the man, flicking them briefly up to the ceiling before deigning to answer. “Because Gutterball pulled the rosters of four ob-gyns, two Lamaze classes and a Momtra Yoga over on Main. Great job, Gutterball.” The blond man who went by Gutterball, sat on the front row of chairs close to Kai, beamed in self-gratified delight at Kai’s gracious recognition, lifting a fist into the air in triumph. Kai smiled proudly down at him before turning to address the group as a whole once more. Your eyes flicked down to the bright screen of your phone, the numbers displayed there beckoning. Your thumb twitched, a conflicted frown creasing your forehead as Kai continued on, pulling your attention back to him. “Manson’s family - I admire them, but they did get a little sloppy.” You watched on in nauseating alarm as Kai pulled a large blade from the black sheath at his hip with a flourish, the metal glinting in the light of the room. “Their message got lost in their mess. What we are doing requires more precision. It is imperative that both mother and child are impaled. Don’t fuck this up.” He scanned the gathering before him, gaze as sharp as the knife clutched in his grip before turning to the models behind him. “Aim for the belly button but stab in a downward motion. If you stab straight,” in one fluid motion, he had buried the curved tip of the blade in the portion of the fake uterus just above the baby’s head with a solid thunk, “you miss the baby - and our entire message is lost.” Withdrawing the knife, he turned back to address his cult, the weapon hanging loosely from his fingertips by his thigh. “Tomorrow night, when your blades tear open one hundred pregnant bellies, you will be releasing a power into the universe. Detonating a neutron bomb of truth, blood and amniotic fluid. You will be galvanising an army.” “With their sisters gutted, women everywhere will be forced to react. They can’t ignore an injustice this brutal. They’ll have to rise up, and in their collective rage, they will train it on Senator Jackson, on all incumbents, on any of the people in power who failed to keep us safe. As the most vulnerable are slaughtered, as the pregnant bodies pile up on Senator Jack-off’s watch, we will be surfing an electoral bloodbath straight to Capitol Hill. And then… the White House.” The collection of cult members all voiced their assent in a chorus of whoops and ovated cheers, a nauseating sense of unease dragging it’s claws up the length of your spine. You turned away with hot tears blurring your vision, not wanting to hear more, your phone a heavy weight in your hand and the decision it presented even heavier.

Sat on the edge of Kai’s large bed, your knee couldn’t cease it’s anxious bouncing, your lower lip chewed raw by your teeth. The door swung open suddenly, sending your heart leaping into your throat. Kai stepped into the room, the small smile stretching across his lips broadening as he beheld you perched on the mattress’ edge. “Hey, when did you get here?” He questioned, reaching to tug you to your feet and wrap his arms tightly around you in a warm embrace. “I only got here like five minutes ago.” Your lie was muffled into the thin shirt at his shoulder, his hands splayed flat on your upper back as he held you close to him. Withdrawing yourself from his grasp, you frantically scanned his face, heart sinking at the pleasure dimly glowing in the depths of his dark eyes, pleasure fuelled not by your sudden appearance, but in anticipation of the merciless slaughter that he would be carrying out in mere hours time. “What?” He asked curiously, his head tilting slightly in concern as his smile faded, caught in the grave despondency of the stare you had him pinned under. His tape-wrapped hands settled on his shoulders; shaking him off, you stepped away, your chest bubbling with emotion that was dangerously close to spilling over. Dropping your gaze to the floor, you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, forcing the tears that threatened to flow to stay at bay. Groaning through clenched teeth, colourful sparks flashing through your blocked vision from the force with which you pressed your hands into your eyes, you blindly felt Kai’s warmth as he stepped forwards to comfort you. Dropping your hands, you retreated another step, Kai stilling at the look of stangled confliction latching onto your features. “What happened?” Voice breaking, you brought a hand up to press against your forehead, icy panic unfurling in your gut amongst the turmoil of roiling distress flooding through your insides. Kai looked utterly lost, his eyes boring into yours as he searched for an answer to the question that he couldn’t understand. “What the fuck happened to you, Kai?” His heart splintered at the raw anguish in your choked, lamenting tone, automatically taking a step towards you, wanting nothing more than to smother the emotions swarming your features. “I used to be so, so happy with you.” His lips parted in disbelief as you continued. “I would’ve done anything for you.” You couldn’t help the tears that spilled over, your voice pushing past the quivering of your lower lip and growing in strength, your breaths turning sharp and rasping as they were sucked in between your passionate words. “Y/n…” He didn’t know what to say as he watched you struggle to keep a grasp on coherency. “I don’t know what happened to him. To the Kai that I fell in love with. But he’s gone now. He’s gone and I don’t know how to get him back.” Sorrow gave way to desolate fury as you plowed on, your jaw clenching as you stepped towards him to deliver a harsh shove to his hard shoulders. Kai fell utterly silent, stumbling back slightly under your touch, unnerved and unsure by the eruption of messily confessed words that spilled from you, seemingly out of nowhere. “Answer me.” You demanded gruffly, shoving at his solid frame once more. “I… y/n, I don’t know-” With a third shove, his eyes flashed in agitated warning, silently daring you to repeat the action a fourth time. You did, shoving at him with as much force as you could muster, breathing hard when he took ahold of your wrists, pulling you to him and pouring his branding stare onto you. “Stop.” Your face was flushed, plump tears cutting through your face and dripping from your chin as you plowed on. “What happened, Kai?” His nostrils flared, eyes wide in confusion as he battled to grasp onto your thoughts, to make coherence of the biting words falling from your lips. “What happened? What the hell happened. Why do you make it so hard to love you?” Your ragged breaths filled the sudden silence in the room, the roaring silence infiltrating Kai’s head drowning out all other sense as he stared down at you in cold disbelief, your eyes wild and face screwed with festering ardour, raw and demanding, your lashes damp with bitter tears. A symphony of surprised shouts echoed up the stairs from the ground floor of the house, Kai’s attention snapping to the door at his back and eyes flooding with sharp panic. He released his hold on you as the cries from below grew in volume, laced with alarm. A single gun shot rang out and it was your turn to take ahold of Kai, the tape wrapped tightly around his wrists warm under your fingers. His head whirled back to you, his eyes alight with uneasy confusion, his gaze frosting over. Bringing your face closer to his, you laid a single, lingering kiss to his lips, your own wet against him. “I’m sorry.” You said quietly, several heavy sets of footsteps sounding from behind the door as they thundered up the stairs. Kai’s eyes frantically searched yours as he pulled against your unrelenting grasp, his gaze briefly parting from yours to snap to the door as the sequence of footsteps and shouts grew louder. “But I can’t let you do this.” His throat bobbed, his eyes widening in terror as the reality of the situation settled over him. “I sentence you to rot.” Tugging at his wrists, you forced your face closer to his before muttering to him, your breath hot on his face and the recognition of your betrayal manifesting in the cold fire smoldering in his gaze: “Just like how my love for you has turned to rot.” His face contorted in rage as the bedroom door was forced open, the panel of wood swinging open and hitting the adjacent wall with a bang, several armed policemen flooding into the room. You loosened your grip on his wrists, stepping away as two of the men took ahold of Kai by the back of his shirt, twisting his arms behind his back. He shrieked in rage, straining to turn his head towards his assailants as they began to pull him from the room. Sinking down onto the edge of the bed, you locked eyes with Kai’s as he turned back to you, cool rage simmering in his dark gaze, his lip curled into an enraged snarl. He pinned you with his stare, not even bothering to fight against the men holding him as he was pulled from the room, a savage promise glittering in his unrelenting stare. A promise of vengeance. Of suffering.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt @mossybank @tatesimper (dm to be added or removed <3)

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knightofcaliban · 3 years

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Confusion (for the angst writing prompts)

[Angst Drabbles]

Everything was black.

He wasn't dead. He knew that because on some level he was aware of how black it was. It was as if a void of nothingness had enveloped his consciousness, depriving him of all sensation save that which he could turn inward. And even that was hazy and muddled. He knew who he was. He was Bedivere, Master of the Knights Redemptor Chapter of the First Legion. But he did not feel like Bedivere, Master of the Knights Redemptor Chapter of the First Legion. Something was different. His limbs felt too long, his chest felt too heavy and his mind was a whirl of repressed thoughts fighting to climb to the fore of his memory.

You should be dead.

That one thought was loud and clear above all others. He focused on it, striving to wrap his fingers around it and buoy himself up through the emptiness around him. Memories came to him as he did so, flashing images and fleeting sensations bubbling up from his subconscious. He saw glittering lance beams in the void and the muzzle flash of macro-cannon batteries firing broadside. He felt the jolt of impact as a boarding torpedo struck its target and burrowed through adamantium plating. He smelled spent gunpowder and the tang of heated brass that came with spent bolt casings. He heard the clash of swords, the crackle of the power fields colliding, and he could taste ozone on his tongue.

Then it was all wiped away by the chill of the open void and the assuredness that death's embrace would follow.

You should be dead.

But I am not.

The thought intruded on his mind and popped the emptiness around him like a bubble. Bedivere suddenly felt like he was falling. No, not falling. Rising. Everything around him was falling, like water being drained away. He could hear muffled voices, and mechanical sounds that reminded him of life support machines in a medicae or apothicarium. Cold despair gripped his hearts as, just for an instant, he believed he had been interred in a dreadnought's sarcophagus.

Then the air shifted and bright light broke the blackness, blinding him with such intensity that all he saw was white expanse.

When it faded, Bedivere found his vision blurry. But that too corrected itself, his eyes adjusting as the last of the amniotic fluid surrounding him washed from his face.

He looked up.

Standing over him was what could only be an adept of the Mechanicum. The red robes and extensive bodily augmentation were a dead giveaway. The adept looked down at Bedivere through red eye lenses. They irised back and forth, and Bedivere felt the adept were zeroing in on specific parts of him.

"Life signs stable." The adept's voice was a harsh synthetic, like the sound of a vox being interrupted by static. "Heartbeat, regular. Breathing, regular. No organ rejection detected. Decryonization successful."

It took Bedivere a moment to realize the adept was not speaking for his benefit, but for the benefit of the servo-skull floating at the adept's shoulder. One eye socket boasted a pict-recorder, no doubt to save this moment for posterity and future study.

"Astartes," the adept said. Bedivere blinked owlishly at him. "Step from the cryo chamber."

Bedivere tried, but found his limbs unresponsive. They were heavy, like lead weights, and he had to focus in order to get them to move. Slowly, he managed it, placing a hand on the side of the chamber to steady himself. As he waited for his legs to adjust to holding weight again, Bedivere looked around. His mouth fell open.

He stood in a vast chamber, constructed almost like an amphitheater with tiered rows rising away until they disappeared beyond even his enhanced vision. It was a massive space. Each level boasted countless pods, each pod filled with a single Astartes. Other Mechanicum adepts filed along, stopping and performing decryonization on certain pods and recording the results.

"Where am I?"

"Mars," the adept said. "In the stasis vaults of Archmagos Belisarius Cawl."

"Who?"

The adept did not respond. Instead, it focused on the dataslate in its hand, mechadendrite manipulators tapping information into the chart on the screen.

"Astartes," it said once finished. "Bedivere. Please proceed down the procession way to barracks 37-D." The adept pointed with a metallic finger. Bedivere followed the gesture and could just make out a door at the end of the platform which led to, he presumed, barracks 37-D.

"Why?" he asked.

"To be registered as awoken and to be fitted out with armor and weaponry."

Though there was no shift in the adept's mechanical tone, something about the way its dendrites twitched told Bedivere it was becoming irritated with his line of questioning. Bedivere did not reply. He simply nodded once, then began walking along the processional. He passed many cryopods on his way. Most were filled with an occupant. Some were empty. A few were in the process of being emptied. Bedivere caught glimpses of confused faces and blank expressions. He wondered if they had the same questions he did. He wondered if the adepts tending to them would be more forthcoming with answers.

The doorway rose up before him. As Bedivere passed through it, he decided it didn't matter. The answers he wanted did not reside with a menial Mechanicum adept slated to tend a farm of Astartes in stasis. But they did reside with someone.

And that someone was somewhere on the other side of the doorway.

#[ghost of caliban: era indomitus]#drabble

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earth-mummy · 4 years

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Adaptations Script Draft:

Yummy Mummy v. 1 (working title)

Adaptation by

Elana Kwong, Jihee Park, Alexandra Preston, and Jasmine Xie

Based on PRESSURE by

Jude Bridge

UTS 2nd Year Animation

Inside belly

Bubbles emerging, inside a body of water. Pan down to see tiny hands.

Baby, (developed enough to have his ears) inside the womb, ultrasound technician pressing against the mother’s belly, amniotic fluids bubbling around him.

MUMMY (muffled):

… take it from his left side… I want to use it for my channels… channels… channels… cha-

Baby floats around in the belly as the mother walks around. The baby’s ears twitch, picking up new sounds; a heart beat, rapid typing, and camera shutter sounds.

MUMMY (in a soft voice): (stop looking at my blemishes and photoshop his ears right now!!!) Leon… please photoshop him…

Children crying in the background[a]. The baby’s surroundings turn dark, and images of his family having a meal flicker by… all hands, pushing food away, and making strange faces. Overcome with emotion, the baby starts to cry.

Womb gets bright for a split second, like a light switching on, or a screen flickering to the right channel.

MUMMY (muffled, bubbly voice): Hi! Welcome ba… to my… channel… it’s been…

Inside the womb, the baby’s ear presses up against the belly.

MUMMY (muffled, still bubbly): I know what you’re thinking… these baby clogs are JUST what you need… Environmentally friendly… <image of mother morphs as children crying> Sustainable… Imported from… from… from… Ecuador…

Cut to black.

Leon’s face emerges from the darkness, and comes piercingly clear.

LEON (voice flat, dead): Uh. The kids would rather eat a pizza than your vegan shit.

Leon morphs into a pizza slice. Mother’s footsteps, running away from the pizza slice. Mother’s back, hunched in a corner crying. The children munch hungrily, mouths being fed, baby listens on. The mother is overwhelmed, and everything turns dark.

The baby’s surroundings turn light, he’s floating in the fluid again, and everything is warm, as she caresses her baby bump.

MUMMY (crying): Oh, my little munchkin… you’re so blessed to have me.

Baby’s face unwrinkles itself as it listens to his mother’s voice.

Fade to black.

Baby floats in the womb. Children crying in the background, sounds Bubbles emerge, as we pan back up.

Cut to black.

MUMMY (clearly): Hi! Welcome back to my channel…

END.

#uts animation #jiheepark #elanakwong #adaptations #script draft #jude bridge #pressure #draft

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8732467521 · 6 years

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Supersurface - An alternative model for life on the Earth

Towards alternative architecture narrations."Supersuperficie" (Supersurface), made by Superstudio in 1972, is one of the most original expressions of a design activity elaborated by architects in the form of a film. It was produced by Marchi Produzioni with a sponsorship of Anic, on the occasion of the "Italy: the New Domestic Landscape" exhibition curated by Emilio Ambasz at MoMA in 1972 in New York. It is the very first episode in the "Atti Fondamentali" (Fundamental Acts) series that collected, according to Superstudio, five primary acts in human life: Vita (Life), Educazione (Education), Cerimonia (Ceremony), Amore (Love), Morte (Death). Supersuperficie corresponds to Vita, the first act.The story is shaped around the theme of human life. Initial scenes, accompanied by sounds of ancestral drums or fetal heart beats, perhaps muffled by an amniotic fluid, are somehow connected to the end of the film where a kind of hymn to life takes place as a crescendo introducing the final statements: "our life will be the only art."Multiple narrative layers are offered in this film: the verbal record gives room to a profound story: evocative, never literal. The visual record, rooted in the pictorial identity expressed in the film's storyboard (published in the same year on "Casabella" magazine), tends to freeze images in stable forms. The overlapping of these layers and the contamination with other inner narrations offers the spectator an original palimpsest, rich in inventions, irony, and weighty in meanings.Images related to the "Monumento Continuo" (Continuous Monument) project's iconography, elaborated by Superstudio between 1969 and 1970, serve to baste a powerful visual narration. These images, however, are integrated by a wider iconography that reflects diverse areas of interest for Superstudio's members. Consequently, iconic architectural images as Reyner Banham's Environmental Bubble or the gigantic geodetic structure covering Manhattan designed by Buckminster Fuller are shown together with pictures abstracted from popular and scientific magazines and re-connoted in a new context, manipulated, sometimes edited in chroma key. The subsequent visual narration, stabilized in the form of film, has an origin in the educational activity of Superstudio, based on audio-visual stories offered to students at the School of architecture of the University of Florence.Words and images work together in this and in other films by Superstudio by generating effects of vision and disorientation. Their narration capitalizes on irony, provocation, paradox. It is through this approach that a rigorous discourse upon the architecture and design discipline and their final extents is offered. An attempt to refound the role of architecture takes place in this film, based on the idea that human beings are the only creators of their own choices: finally nomadic, they can free themselves from induced needs and behaviors, and pick their own place, everywhere on the Earth's "supersurface". The design activity doesn't lead towards objects and goods predefined in their formal and aesthetic aspects anymore. It manifests itself as a potential device instead, for "a life anymore based upon labor, but on not alienated human relations" for "an alternative model of life on Earth."

http://www.architectureplayer.com/clips/supersurface-an-alternative-model-for-life-on-the-earth

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