#heavy assault squad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fscottcatsgerald · 1 year

Text

Levi losing his virginity to you *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

warnings: smut, afab!reader, racially ambiguous!reader, use of 'cunt' to describe female genitalia, allusions to rape/sexual assault as something baby!Levi probably witnessed, mentions of prostitution, mentions of childhood trauma

Levi had been a virgin before me met you. Sex was never particularly high on his priorities. Sure he got horny like everyone else, but he was fully capable of taking care of himself in private.

His childhood had exposed him to the barbaric sex only found in a brothel; the diseases, abuse, and violence against the women whose job was to be subjected to those horrors and to just accept them for money and survival. Sex in that regard was disgustingly dirty, disease ridden, and not something he wanted to partake in. Not with a stranger and definitely not by paying for it.

Any sort of romance was also lacking in his life until he met you. His formative years had denied him the time to even consider romance or affection, having needed to focus more on just surviving.

But then he met you and for the first time in his life, he found himself yearning for your attention, your affection, your touch. No matter how much he tried to shake the feelings, desperately trying to convince himself that you were a member of his squad - that he was your superior and such desires were inappropriate - he found himself drawn more and more to you.

One heated argument over your reckless behavior on the battle field had been the final thread to snap in him before you found yourself pinned between him and his bookcase; faces mere centimeters from each other. But it was you who had finally closed the distance by pulling him into you - crushing your lips together. The first kiss was heated and rough; fueled by what felt like a lifetime of built up desire.

From that moment forward you found yourselves quietly catching glances of each other throughout the day, gently brushing hands in corridors, and sneaking kisses in his office late at night whilst the rest of the barracks were well asleep. For months this continued, midnight rendezvouses gradually growing in intensity but never pushing over the edge. You didn’t mind, however, knowing enough of Levi’s past to understandingly let him take his time. Until he finally took the leap…

Which is how he found himself buried deep within your velvety walls for the first time. Sweat sheened forehead pressed to yours as shaky arms kept him off of you enough to not crush you. He breathing heavy and ragged, eyes clenched shut; desperately trying to ground himself after the first thrust into you. The intensity of the pleasure he felt as your cunt seemed to squeeze him impossibly tighter was nearly too much.

‘Shit’ he finally managed to mutter.

Head lifting up to meet your eyes. Your pupils were blown just as wide as his in the shared pleasure you both felt. The sound of his curse sending a thrill through you causing you to involuntarily clench around him. He swore he could get lost in you - in this feeling of being impossibly connected.

Slowly withdrawing only to thrust back in, Levi crushed his lips to yours to stifle the moans he wasn’t ready to be heard. He had regained enough composure to reach out with one hand to grab one of yours, interlacing his fingers with his own as he set a languid pace - relishing the feeling of his cock slipping in and out of your tight heat.

Soft mewls left your own lips as your free hand entangled in the hair at the nape of his neck; you desperately tried to push his lips impossibly closer. Teeth clashed as tongues explored each other, all the while Levi’s thrusts growing in intensity. He might not have been the biggest in size, but the way his plush head repeatedly kissed your cervix was mind blowing. Lifting one of your legs with his own he managed to thrust in at a new, deeper angle.

‘Levi!’ you gasped feeling the head of his cock perfectly hit the spot deep within you that had your vision blurring with the sheer ecstasy.

With a grunt, Levi maintained the angle as best he could as he fucked you closer and closer to his own peak. How he had managed to keep from coming this long was a surprise given the way he thought he would lose himself on the first thrust.

‘Fuck-‘ he hissed reaching his peak with little warning, his warmth shooting into you and the feelings of it sending you over the edge as well. His name sung from your lips as you clung to the nape of his neck and back.

Panting and nearly drooling from the white hot wave of pleasure, Levi once again pressed his forehead to yours as you both came down from your highs. Gently you stroked the muscles of his back in lazy circles having revived faster than he. Placing a chaste kiss to your lips, Levi finally rolled off of you sprawling (as best he could on the cramped barrack bed) beside you.

#Levi Ackerman #Levi Ackerman imagine #Levi Ackerman imagines #Levi ackermann imagines #Levi ackermann imagine #Levi Ackerman x reader #Levi Ackerman x you #Levi x reader #Levi x you #Levi ackermann x reader #Levi ackermann x you #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan imagines #snk imagines

708 notes · View notes

callsignhood · 5 months

Text

König on a rampage

Tags: Angst / Headcanons /‼️Description of violence and cruelty‼️ / Not proofread /Dark König??

Word count: 500ish

König was always on missions during his twenties. Sometimes it lasted for days, sometimes for weeks.

Being deployed and following commands was almost a therapy for him. It provided him the focus on something that could be controlled, rather than his untouchable anxiety.

Handling weapons and aiming targets was easier than handling relationships, which he was slow at.

He wasn’t too close to his team, but they weren’t strangers either, of course. He just had trouble to open himself up to anyone.

He was young, with a body built like an oak tree and nerves of steel. He always tried to maintain calculated during gunfights. Although he was young, he never acted recklessly. He was even willing to retreat if the consequences of pushing forward were high.

König rarely got shot since was agile and vigilant on the battlefield. If he was, he knew how to treat wounds because it was given as mandatory training.

His pain tolerance was very high. Or maybe he’s just good at keeping everything by himself. He’d clench his teeth and wrap the flesh tightly to stop the blood flow, take a few breaths, self-evaluate if he can do this or not, then continued to fight.

He barely had any rest, because he believed he didn’t need much of that. If he had a day off, he would wash off all the blood and sweat on his body, eat until he’s satisfied, then slam himself on the bed and sleep for an entire day.

König was then deployed to Berlin. It was a rescue operation from the hands of Al-Quatala, and he led a team of five.

It was a mission under raining bullets. The commander has underestimated enemies’ resources, and König’s team was struggling with limited assets.

One of them was down during this twelve hours pain-in-the-ass battle. It made König frustrated at the whole situation.

He sweated under his gears and gloves, changing mags and yelling out order behind cover. He counted his bullets, not enough. His commander has not yet telling them to retreat.

Fucking bullshit, he mumbled. This better not be a suicide mission.

He then e saw a child being thrown out instead of a grenade, a few feet beside him. As he was taking in this sudden information, a flash of explosion blinded his eyes, he felt himself being knocked out by the shockwave.

He growled at the pain, got up from the bloody ground after a few seconds of struggle, then he saw half of an arm and one foot. Small. Belonged to the child.

König took a few breaths, their death sinking into his brain and it made his blood boil. For the first time, he didn’t wait for further instruction by the commander, as he let rage takeover the body.

And it became his weapon, he stormed into the room with his assault rifle, shot down a few panicked enemy that was fleeing to take cover. They did not expect anyone would storm into their base recklessly like this.

He double-tapped them, then took pursuit on the rest like a beast going rogue. Six were on the base floor, four on the roof top. If his ammo ran out, he’d ditch it and grab a rifle from the dead enemies. Turns out they had a fucking heavy machine gun, that’s why König’s squad were showered with bullets.

If there was a chance for melee combat, he’d use the most painful method without a blink.

He got shot twice on the arm, once on the leg form the back. He bit through it, half with adrenaline, half with his flaming rage. He had enough with this. Nothing could stop König on his rampage.

The remaining two were guarding the hostages. König took aim and shot one of them dead with one bullet.

The other screamed and wanted to run, but König was faster, pinned him down and grabbed him like a prey. His own blood stained the clothing, and the burning revenge was dripping down from his eyes, glared down at the enemy.

“You like to be cruel, ja?” König spitted, stabbed the knife into his eye. “Then I’ll pay it back to you!” He gutted out those painful screams. Again and again, as it was the only way to calm himself down.

When König was done venting his fire out, he turned to the hostages. He was almost covered in red with a pair bloodlust eyes. They were trembling at the sight of this man, refused to go with him.

They had to be convinced by the rest of his team, so they could be finally escorted to safety. The team also took care of König. They were terrified too.

König finally passed out on the retreat heli by the blood lost and by his overwhelmed mind.

#konig #konig call of duty #konig mw2 #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig headcanons #könig headcanons #konig fanfiction #könig fanfiction #konig mwii #könig mwii

117 notes · View notes

cassettesocialism · 10 months

Text

RKF-C/09 Tagetes Fusilier

The Tagetes is the backbone of the Baronic Unified Command. Noble or not, every cadet earns their chevrons in the chair of one of these bastards. The retrofitted version you're looking at doesn't deviate much from the old standby. It's got an uparmor package with a new alloy mix that the Royal Foundry boys cooked up (top secret!). Combined with reinforced joints means that it can take a real beating and keep ticking. Just don't expect it to be doing the two-step anytime soon.

This Tagetes is a Fusilier, squad marksman version. Sensor suite's been retooled, derived from interferometry suites yanked off frigates and downscaled. Don't know what black magic the eggheads had to conjure to fit them into the chassis, but you won't find a better fire control and target acquisition system anywhere else.

Fusilier's standard issue weapon is the Hesse-Kovan Heavy Industries made HvC-125 Precision Assault Cannon. A reliable and imminently accurate system, it'll sling a 125mm through a target two kilos away, no problem. HcVs take all kinds of solid state ammo to boot, sabot, squashhead, plasma-jacketed, even loitering munitions. Won't fire energetic munitions though, barrel deforms too easily under heat stress. However, H&K is working on a version that'll accept linear accelerators mods or nuclear shaped charge ammunition, expect it by the end of next Standard year. -Quartermaster Sergeant Emilie Levallier, inventory memo Art by the fantastic EM Fields, catch em on twitter at: https://twitter.com/EMFields_Art

#lancerrpg #lancer rpg #lancer #lancer ttrpg

202 notes · View notes

piratesfromspace · 10 months

Text

Plaything (141xReader)

Pairing: (implied) Reader x Ghost x Soap x Price x Gaz Rated: Mature Word count: 2.7k Summary: Rain and Soap have been kidnapped. Note: In the same universe as my "Rain or Shine" fic, I recommend you read part 3 to understand this chapter. Reader callsign is "Rain", she's bi and autistic (I am autistic myself).

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, kidnapping, implied torture, threat of sexual assault, overall canon typical violence, but with a happy ending (kinda)

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // <> // PART 5

Soap hears her before he can see her - Don’t touch me she screams, and the fury in her tone has his heart racing. They drag her into the room where he is detained. His hands tightly bound behind his back and to the metal chair he sits on. The zip ties are cutting into his skin, the metal too hard and cold under his thighs. No chance to rip them off discreetly with all those men watching him. But he stops caring about his own discomfort the second she appears.

Despite the heavy tac gear on her body, she looks cruelly small against the giant holding her. Her hair is in her face, and there is a smear of blood on her cheek, but she’s trashing and screaming with so much vigor John is somewhat relieved. She’s alive and kicking .

“My oh my, what do we have here, mmh? That’s an interesting new addition to your squad MacTavish.” The man next to the giant croons. “She wasn’t there the last time we met. Or maybe you’ve been hiding her all along?” He walks slowly, towering over Rain. “Wouldn’t blame you, such a pretty thing, you have to be careful who you show it to...” he taunts.

Soap knows him - codename Zeus, what a pretentious asshole - he’s the head of this mercenary unit they had to team up with once. But since they sell their fire power to the highest bidder, don’t really have any allegiance, it was only a matter of time before they met again in a less friendly situation. They had rat him out of the safehouse he was sharing with Rain. No clue how they got the intel. Or why they captured him. He had prayed Rain would be able to escape, but it appears she was caught as well. Soap just really hopes the rest of the squad will figure something out, and quickly.

“So what is she?” Zeus goes on, evil mirth in his voice.

“Sniper?” one of the other rogue soldiers tries. Zeus laughs.

“Nah. She had fucking glasses on when we caught her.” He looks at Johnny with a smirk, then at her. “Maybe you’re their nurse? Oh wait I know, you’re their cook, right?” he asks, feigning honesty, and his men chuckle. Soap wants to kill them all, break their teeth and stop them from laughing ever again.

Zeus extends his hand, catches Rain’s chin between his gloved fingers, forces her head up. “Or maybe you’re their plaything? The squad little whore?” Rain’s eyes widen in anger and shock, she snaps her head to the side trying to escape her captor’s grip.

The words of Zeus awaken Soap’s memory. Invoke flashes of what happened in Siberia. Unexpected guilt settles in his guts with an icy feeling. “Plaything” - she wasn’t their plaything , she was the one initiating whatever it was , she was more than willing. They only wanted to make her feel good.

Johnny doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels guilty because of this. The implications of what Zeus is suggesting - he hates them, they’re nonsensical, but still he feels attacked even if it's ridiculous. He can only imagine what it does to Rain’s spirit.

“Or maybe you’re their plaything? The squad little whore?”The words of their captor echoes in her head. How does he know? It’s not rational but for a split second she panics. She panics because maybe - maybe - there is the tiniest chance someone knows? Someone else beside the 141? It makes absolutely no sense, and she should not care at all, but since the second she’s been captured, she feels her mind unraveling.

She tries her best to keep it together - damn it , she followed the freaking training, she’s supposed to know what to do, she’s supposed to have her emotions in check. Truth is no training can prepare you for the feeling of helplessness slithering along every inch of her body, seizing her lungs, filling her throat full with a cloying fear.

Zeus and his men are hitting low, she’s easy target. Pointing at her womanhood and making it demeaning, citing all the adjacent prejudices they can think of. No better than stupid mean boys from high school. It should not dig at her confidence like this. She knows her skills, out of and on the battlefield. She knows her team respects that - respects her . Loves her, even. But still, she doesn’t feel so well, it’s too much happening too fast. Bile rises behind her teeth.

“Am I hitting a sore spot, sweetheart ?” Zeus laughs at her, forcefully cups her check, in a mockery of care. He turns to Soap “I guess we’ll find a way to have fun with her, me and my men, one way or another…”, He clicks his tongue, rests his hand on the handle of the knife attached to his belt, the threat blatant, “Don’t worry, you’ll watch before it’s your turn.” he snarls. Johnny grits his teeth, holds his tongue because he’s afraid anything he would say would be faced with some sort of retaliation on Rain.

Zeus is not done. “Oh, one last thing. I just want to make it very clear for the both of you - I already got the intel I need. But my client wants you dead, so why not have a little fun while we’re at it? Well, I mean they want MacTavish dead.” Zeus goes back in front of Rain, “Sorry darling, you’re not quite famous enough for people to actually care about you.”

She spits in his face and he laughs it off.

---

Ghost is the first to go in. He had rushed through the stairs of the decrepit building, stopping only a couple of seconds at every floor to make sure the way was clear before climbing up again. He doesn’t want to think about what he’s going to find. He only focuses on taking down any hostile as discreetly as possible. He doesn’t even want them to suffer, he has no will to torture - he just want them to be gone . Bones turned to ashes. Cleaned from the surface of this earth. He looks at their faces just long enough to forget them after.

Since the news of their capture, he feels numb. Immune to any kind of emotions - dissociated - mind split into so many shards he wonders if it will ever heal. It’s not the first time one of them - of the 141 - has been captured. Not the first time he has to lead a rescue mission. But it’s her. And Johnny. And he knew this would happen - he knew it.

The scars on his back are itchy, like the wounds were about to open again, as if time just decided to go backwards. The trauma of his own capture had been kept locked away very efficiently, Simon had tucked it into some layers at the root of his mind, pressed there between his will to live and his dedication to duty, a prison of steel where it was supposed to be forgotten forever.

Until Soap’s frantic voice had crackled through the comm - We been hit… is compromised… - and then the silence. Price had looked at him, surprise and something that must have been akin to fear in his eyes. Since then, Simon can feel it, the anxiety feeding on the ugly things he has repressed for years, gnawing at the base of his skull, ready to burst free. And along with it, blooms the guilt of failing to protect them from the worst that can happen to a soldier - to anyone .

When he kills the first guard, he doesn’t bother to look at his face, but as he goes through the long corridors, sniping down each enemy, something clicks. He knows most of them. They’re mercenaries. When his knife slices the throat of another one, he can read in his eyes the terrible recognition and he’s pretty sure he can hear him croak “Ghost?” against his gloved palm before life leaves him.

Price, Gaz and him clear the rooms with brutal efficiency, and by the point they reach the end of the floor, they don’t bother with discretion anymore. They find a pile of discarded boots (two big ones, and two smaller) and belts and gears. Soap and Rain’s stuff. They are kept here, it’s a certainty now. So they kill and kill - sink bullets in old allies - terminating even the injured despite their begging. Ghost is bashing open every door he can see, leaving the last mercenaries to his teammates, until he finds it - the cell.

He fires at the lock, kicks the door and goes in, handgun first. He scans the room in a second. Clear . And it’s like everything explodes inside him. The air is filled with the smell of gunpowder and fresh blood and revenge. Here they are, Soap and Rain. Soap is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, head lolling against his chest. His face is a mess of red, blood covering dark bruises, like stones at the bottom of a crimson pond. His clothes look soaked, his bare feet are also bloodied.

Rain is sitting on the floor, hands bound behind her back, curled against the leg of McTavish. She might be comforting herself as much as she’s trying to comfort her Sergeant. She’s down to the tight black shorts she wears underneath her cargo pants, her T-shirt is half-torned at the collar, hanging loosely on her shoulders. Blue and black patches are dotted on her upper arms, on her naked legs, but she looks in way better shape than Soap.

“Simon” she whispers. And he realizes he’s been standing there in shock for a couple seconds. She turns her face to him, and there is a smear of vermilion on her cheek, where it was pressed against Soap’s thigh. Her eyes are a little wild, the white veined in reddish streaks - she must have cried. “Simon” she says again, like she can’t quite believe he’s real.

Ghost snaps open the zip ties, and as soon as she’s free, she turns to Soap, holds his face in her small hands. “Johnny, Johnny, they’re here - you’ll be ok - Fuck, Johnny, please look at me…” she begs, while Simon frees him as well. Price and Gaz are at the doorstep, taking in the scene before them. Ghost is holding Rain with one arm, trying to prevent Soap from falling on the ground with the other - and she’s frantic, she repeats his name, tries to wake him up from his lethargic state. Simon tries to reassure her - Rain, let me take care of him. Rain. Rain, stop.

But she can’t, she’s spiraling and she starts crying again. It feeds Simon’s own anxiety, he’s been helpless in protecting them, and even now he doesn’t know what to do. He presses her against him, hopes it will calm her down but it’s useless. Until her name - her true name - echoes in the room. Price’s voice is firm, devoid of any blame but commanding nonetheless. Ghost feels Rain stiffen immediately in his arms, her body reacting on instinct to her Captain’s order.

Price gets her out of Simon’s grip, gently pulling her out of the way so he can take care of Soap. Are you hurt? Can you walk? She doesn’t answer, she’s shaking, from the cold and the shock of it all. Price scans her body, cataloging every bruise, the blood on her face, on her palms - not hers though. Soap’s…

“It’s bad Captain” Gaz whispers, eyes to the side, looking at Simon’s hauling Johnny in his arms. “We need to go. Now.” Price nods, gaze locked on Rain.

“Requesting evac. 6 minutes. They’re alive but … keep the medic on board.” Gaz’s radio crackled with a stern copy . They climbed on the roof to rendez-vous with the chopper. Rain insisted on retrieving some of her gear, she had put on her boots and holster, and had proceeded to unsheath her knife. Price had tried to argue she didn’t need to, she was safe now - but she wouldn’t listen. She made her way with the rest of them, in her shorts and torn shirt, holding her blade so tight her knuckles were white under the crimson of Soap’s blood clinging to her skin. She looked straight out of those dumb horror movies Soap likes to watch on leave. Bloodied and beaten and with tears on her cheeks, and yet still holding a knife ready to do whatever it takes to stay alive.

Her head was too light and too heavy at the same time, her legs felt like cotton, she could barely hear anything above the deafening sound of her thumping heart. The last of her adrenaline was keeping her standing, but the second she got up into the chopper, she crashed. Price had to carefully pry the knife from her hands, strap her down to her seat, fix the headset on her ears, because her fingers were shaking too much.

On the other side of the heli, the medic was bunched over Johnny’s form, Ghost by his side. He turned back suddenly, back to her. The skull mask is streaked red, the white paint on his chin also. With the lack of light in the hull, she can’t see his eyes, just two holes of dark void. Anyone else would be terrified of him when he looks like this. Like some deranged creature that’s barely human, all bones and no flesh. But she spots the slight way his shoulders just drop, like he’s releasing a breath at her sight. Unconsciously, she mimics him, tries to even her breathing, tries to slow the angry roar of her blood.

“‘Am fine” she states, voice flat, when Price clicks his mic open, before he even asks anything. “Just bruises. No internal bleeding. No concussion.”

“Just let the medic check on you after.” Her captain insists.

“I have none of the symptoms.” She concludes and Price knows not to argue, because she started learning military medicine a few months ago and the new medic on base genuinely thought she was a colleague when she efficiently treated the open fracture of some rookie. Her ability to pick up new knowledge frightens him a bit sometimes.

“I am fine.” she repeats mechanically. “I’m not the one injured.” she adds so low Price wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t for her mic. He picks up the underlying guilt in her statement immediately.

“You stop this right now - Rain - Rain, listen to me. I’m fucking serious. It wasn’t your fault.” There is a tinge of despair behind the controlled anger in his voice. First time he sounds like this. It unsettles her.

“You don’t understand, Johnny, he- he said stupid things so they would stop what they were- they tried to attack me-but…he…” She’s getting breathless, words stuck in her throat, hurting like she had been fed burning coal. Her voice not as monotonous as before, wavy and unsure. “He sacrificed himself.” and with that she starts to cry again.

---

She’s asleep when Ghost joins her. The only reason she was able to close her eyes was the couple of sleeping pills and painkillers the medic slipped in Price’s hand before gesturing at her in a silent order. Her head had been spinning the whole time she shed her clothes and sat under the shower spray. From the medication and the exhaustion - Price had stayed to make sure she was alright. But at least she fell on her mattress and went unconscious the minute after.

Simon curls around her, squeezes her body against his, the warmth of her skin a blessing he wasn’t sure he would be able to know again. She moves in her sleep, sinks against his chest even further. Fuck . His heart misses a beat when he thinks about the fact she might have been gone. Forever. Her and Johnny, they both might have. He had spent the last hours mulling over his fear in the back of the room where the medic was trying his best to patch up Soap.

Now all he wanted was for her to forget, for her to not have to go through what he had lived after his own capture. He stays there, strong arms around her waist, his discarded mask still covered in blood on the nightstand - an artifact powerful enough to repel the demons in her nightmares.

NEXT PART

#ghost x reader #price x reader #cod fanfiction #ghost x reader x soap #soap x reader #soap x ghost #ghost fanfiction #bisexual reader #fem reader #mw2 fanfic #ghost x you #soap x you #141 x reader #141 fanfic #task force 141

181 notes · View notes

staycalmandhugaclone · 1 year

Text

These prompts have snowballed into an ongoing series following the beloved Fem!medic!oc trope (written via 1st person reader with no real descriptors). They're in chronological order, and I've tried to make sure to mention if any earlier works in particular are referenced in each one.

If there is a trigger warning that you are concerned about but want to enjoy the story, please please please reach out! In many instances I can alter snip-its or tone things down, or at least highlight the sections in question so you can avoid them (I could do a vague summary for continuity).

Also, these stories are getting added to Ao3 via Monday updates. I'm not dumping them all at once, but you're welcome to pop on over if you prefer that format - just don't forget to drop a kudos/comment!

Touch Starved - Echo - The new medic catches Echo hiding a strained shoulder and gives him a much needed massage.

Warnings: Pretty mild – some cussing, a bit of angst, otherwise just a lot of comfort via a much needed massage

Round 2 with Echo! - just a soft second massage because I wanted to write it - Warnings: Body dysphmorphia from prosthetic limbs, angst, some anxiety/tension from a thigh massage

TS Ch 2 - Hunter - Doc convinces Hunter to let her help him through a tension headache.

Warnings: Tension headache, no real warnings - just another much needed massage

TS Ch 3 - Wrecker - An innocent request leads Doc to a horrifying discovery that she's quick to remedy.

Warnings: Reference to child neglect/ starvation, star wars cursing

TS Ch 4 – Tech - Left alone on the Marauder while the others retrieve a replacement part, Doc and Tech discuss the local culture while Tech works on mechanical upgrades. The unfortunate side effects of his poor posture prompt Doc to step in with a helping hand.

Warnings: Discussion of cultural/religious differences, joking reference to reverse harem, touch aversion, medical language

TS Ch5 – Crosshair - Fed up with Crosshair's dismissal of her help after a nearly disastrous escape, Doc finally snaps.

Warnings: Maybe light arachnophobia? Cursing, yelling, brief mention of injection

Flinching - OC&TBB - Doc has a dangerous near-encounter while away from the boys. They aren't pleased when they find out.

Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, some cursing, borderline panic attack.

F Ch 2 - OC&Echo - Echo patches Doc up after her attack.

Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, some cursing, wound care, energy crash from excessive bacta use, non-intimate undressing, some self-deprecating thoughts

F Ch 3 - OC&TBB - Doc tries to lighten the mood en route to speaking with her superior officers.

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but still some reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming

F Ch 4 - OC&TBB - After the grueling retelling, Doc has a brief talk with Cody regarding her place in the GAR before finally returning to learn that her squad has a surprise for her.

Warnings: Summarized attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming. The first half is heavy, not gonna lie, but there's nothing explicit.

Muzzled - Crosshair - Crosshair is captured by Separatist forces. Though brief, his time imprisoned left him in need of help.

Warnings: Some light medical jargon and an injection, a bit of cussing, kinda muzzle/gag duo complete with saliva

M Ch 2 - Crosshair - Hiding an injury rarely ever ends well. Luckily, Doc notices something is still wrong.

Warnings: This one's gone some proper medical procedures - gore/blood/injections. Adult language. Good bit of guilt and angst.

TS Ch1.5.5 (because Cross needs more attention) - Crosshair - Nothing's easy with Crosshair, but after a joke goes too far, he and Doc manage to find a deeper trust in each other.

Warnings: More cursing, panic attack

Knife to Throat - OC&TBB - Doc is blindsided by a grief-maddened civilian.

Warnings: Blood and cursing. Kinda flirting with death a bit, and some light fluff that goes with it. Knife wound and subsequent medical procedures.

Soft Words - Hunter - A Separatist outpost sets a cruel trap for Hunter. The Doc tries to keep him sane until rescue comes.

Warnings: Went very heavy in the whump with this one – sound torture, imprisonment, mild language

Secrets Revealed – OC&TBB - An unexpected EMP forces Doc to reveal aspects of their past that could well turn the batch against them. (Censored version for those uncomfortable with heavy gore)

Warnings: Explicit details of severe injury – blood/gore, language, panic attacks, angst, PTSD flashbacks, self-depreciation, offhand reference to minor character death. This one hits a lot of potentially triggering topics pretty intensely and is fueled from a very dark place I was in with my own injury. Be kind to yourself. Healing is a nonlinear process.

Made to Watch - OC&TBB - Doc becomes the subject of torture in an attempt to force intel from Hunter.

Warnings: Get yuh whump here! Fresh, violent whump! Explicit details of torture and physical injuries, blood and minor gore, broken bones, near death, language.

Panic - Echo - A quiet discussion between Doc and Hunter is delayed when Echo has a nightmare. Doc tries to ease him through it, resulting in a fun bit of shared taunts with Crosshair the following morning.

Warnings: Nightmare-induced panic attack. Non-intimate bed sharing. Fictional curses (does that need a warning?), sexual innuendo

No Anesthesia (Extra per request) – OC&TBB – Wrecker’s overzealous efforts to destroy a building lead to Doc getting pinned in a dire situation.

Warnings: Very heavy whump in this one, with a couple moments of descriptive gore and medical procedures, impalement, difficulty breathing, near death, cursing. TW: claustrophobia

Found Footage - OC&TBB – A pleasant moment at 79s is shattered when someone tries to blackmail doc with footage of the crash on Agamar.

Warnings: Huge PTSD warning here. Flashbacks, disassociating, past injury description, blackmail, grief, angst, some alcohol use (social, not abuse), cursing

Difficulty Breathing – Medic OC&Wrecker- During a mission in a cave, Doc realizes she didn't come out of the rubble of that building with only physical scars, but is determined to push through.

Warnings: Big Claustrophobia warning. and Bats. Ptsd, panic attack. That's about it for this one!

DB Ch 2 - OC&Wrecker - Wrecker and Doc face additional challenges in their attempt to reach the surface.

Warnings: Heights, bats, mild gore, drowning, near death, hypothermia

DB Ch 3 - OC&TBB- When Hunter reveals what really prompted the cave beasts to attack, Doc is faced with an impossible decision.

Warnings: hypothermia recovery, thought of mortality (no character deaths), extreme guilt/angst/self doubt. Talked of wartime casualties. Dis one do be pretty tense, sooo prepare yourselves I guess

Fever – Tech - Tension are high after Doc's discussion with Commander Cody, but when Tech is exposed to a certain fungus, she doesn't hesitate to help.

Warnings: Angst, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores.

Fever - Tech Pt 2 - The effects of the spores quickly wear off, rending Tech into a severe withdrawal.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, sense of impeding doom, high fever, vomiting, delirium-induced violence, strangulation, cursing, needles/IV

Fever - Tech Pt 3 - Crosshair and Echo take a moment to remind Doc that she needs to take care of herself, too, as Tech continues fighting through the effects of withdrawal.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, needles/IV, seizures, light angst

Fever - Tech Pt 4 - Hunter and Wrecker each spend time helping Doc tend their brother.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, needles/IV, paranoia induced violence, blood, broken nose, vomiting, dry heaves, mild sexual tension

Fever - Tech Pt 5 - Things get worse before they get better.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, needles/IV, angst, fear of death/decommissioning

Fever - Tech Pt 6 - Finally through the worst of it, everyone is allotted a moment to breathe before returning to Kamino.

Warnings: TW: symptoms of withdrawal, accidental drug exposure via fungal spores, high fever, reference to vomiting, delirium induced violence, guilt

More then Skin Deep - Wrecker - Doc notices something about Wrecker while training and offers her help.

Warnings: Light sexual tension, reference to past injury, disabilities and light prejudice from appearance - It's mostly just some softness fluff.

"Not Gonna Believe This" - Doc & Tbb - Chow time on Kamino dissolves into chaos in the wake of thoughtless words.

Warnings: Fighting, broken nose, blood, light medical procedures, mild guilt, bit of sexual tension, reference to bullying

Arrows (Special Request) - Doc - A brief moment of peace precedes a mission doomed to misfortune.

Warnings: Bone/joint injury, some PTSD, brief insect creature, mild sexual tension (when isn't there with these guys)

Arrows - Doc Pt 2 - Rapid medical care is given, but it offered little reprieve.

Warnings: Bone/joint injury, profanity, vomiting, heavy whump, medical procedures, needles

Arrows - Doc Pt 3 - Medication offers some relief before the team splits up to retrieve a cure.

Warnings: This one's pretty mild - descriptions of pain, some guilt... I think that's about it

Arrows - Doc Pt 4 - Doc continues to decline as the others race to get back with the cure.

Warnings: Near death, vague drowning (kinda?), reference to light medical procedures, some guilt and profanity

Breaking Point - Doc - Sent to Devaron under the guise of a med-leave, Doc and the boys get a chance to relax, and Doc learns a disturbing truth of Crosshair’s specialty.

Warnings: Vague, cryptic warnings, moral dilemma over assassination, mild tension

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 2 - The squad enjoys the remainder of that day on the lake before finally fulfilling the real reason they were sent there.

Warnings: Sexual tension galore, mild brotherly bullying, profanity, mild body dismorphia regarding prosthetics, assassination, minor character death, blood, guilt, angst, horrors of war

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 3 - Doc struggles with the aftermath of Crosshair's mission.

Warnings: Intense descriptions of grief and guilt. Heavy angst.

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 4 (Explicit) - Doc and Crosshair find an escape in each other. (Click Here for the Censored Version)

Warnings: Guys. It's smut (unless you opt for the censored version, then it's steamy kisses and implied sex). In fact, it's inappropriate use of sex to cope with grief. See tag for explicit version's detailed warnings, profanity, and dread/guilt

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 5 - Before she can deal with the ramifications of her actions, Doc seeks out Crosshair for answers.

Warnings: Non-explicit sex scene, profanity, and dread/guilt - might offer an explicit chapter later, but it wasn't important to the scene, so I didn't go into it this time

Breaking Point - Doc Pt 6 - Tensions are high about the squad as they struggle to accept changing dynamics.

Warnings: Vague reference to sex/ sexual innuendoes, profanity, and more dread/guilt

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 1 - Tensions are still high as the squad attempts to prepare for their next mission.

Warnings: Lots of heavy emotions in this one - angst, guilt, angry, blame, got some profanity in there, and reference to child soldiers kinda

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 2 - A brief distraction from Crosshair offers little comfort once the mission actually starts.

Warnings: Some sexual tension, mild making out, severe anxiety, profanity, war typical violence, and some gory killing

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 3 - Doc shows just how far she's willing to go to save her men.

Warnings: It dark. Ye be warned. Torture. Blood. Broken/dislocated bones. Disassociation. Stabbing. Big profanity warning. Murder.

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 4 - They escape the planet before Doc's actions finally catch up with her.

Warnings: Reference to bone trauma, blood, vomit, disassociation, medical procedures, guilt, angst, needles

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 5 - Doc has a couple conversations that have been held off for too long.

Warnings: Nightmares, guilt, reference to torture/gore, reference to murder/assassination, profanity

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Doc Pt 6 - Doc has the chance to reconnect with most of her squad before plans change.

Warnings: Mild PTSF, guilt, reference to torture/gore, profanity, heated kissing

You'll Have to Go Through Me - Xtra Scene - Crosshair and Echo have a chat.

Warnings: Just some standard guilt, angst, and regret, along with a little sprinkling of profanity.

Identity - Doc Pt 1 - Awkward goodbyes precede the beginning to Doc's secretive mission.

Warnings: Nothing serious - some cursing, a bit of sexual tension/heavy kissing, and some tension in general. Well, lots of tension in general

Identity - Doc Pt 2 - Doc reconnects with her old squad.

Warnings: Brotherly fighting, talk of hunting, nightmares with reference to gore/torture, heavy tension, profanity

Identity - Doc Pt 3 - After a final chat with the 104th, Doc enters the gala.

Warnings: Brotherly bullying, varying degrees of dread, unwanted advances (between two women, though I want to be clear: the 'unwanted' aspect is not due to gender), profanity, brief descriptions of gore and burns, needles, brief description of dead bodies

Identity - Doc Pt 4 - The gala starts of well enough...

Warnings: torture, waterboarding, drowning, interrogation, panic, panic attack, flashbacks, self-blame, giving up, longing for death, temporary insanity, arguably inappropriate use of sedation, guilt, profanity, intense whump

Identity - Doc Pt 5 - Her old squad struggles in the aftermath of the gala.

Warnings: Minor flashbacks/PTSD, reference to torture, loads of guilt and tension, otherwise mostly just fluff and angst

Identity - 99 & 104th Pt 6 - Crosshair demands answers from the remaining members of the 104th.

Warnings: Big emotions in this - rage, guilt, blame, and the like. There do be a bit of fighting, but it's not gory. Brief description of water torture. Profanity

Identity - Doc Pt 7 - The debrief with Cody doesn't go well.

Warnings: Flashbacks/PTSD, description of torture, loads of angst, reference to gore, profanity, self-deprecating thoughts

Identity - Doc Pt 8 - After composing herself, Doc finally returns to her squad.

Warnings: Honestly, aside from the standard guilt and regret, this chapter is mostly fluff

An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 1 - The squad is sent on a mission with the sole intent of being granted a moment of peace.

Warnings: This arc will mostly be fluffy stuff, but there will be references to past torture here and there. This one has some flashbacks, profanity, and loads of emotions like guilt, fear, anger, and general angst, as well some brief mention of wanting to die (not SI - with relation to ending torture), and I supposed some dependency

An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 2 - A soft morning precedes an important chat.

Warnings: Kissing in bed with some light sexual tension if you squint, then right back into the good ol' hard emotions: self blame, guilt, anxiety; reference to torture, Crosshair being Crosshair, I think there's some light profanity, too

An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 3 - The squad lands on Alderaan.

Warnings: sexual tension, mild ptsd

An Ode to Artists - Doc/Crosshair Pt 4 (Explicit) - Doc and Crosshair finally enjoy some isolation. (Click here for the censored version)

Warnings: Um... so, it's over 8k of smut. Unprotected PiV, oral (m & f receiving), light teasing, profanity

Flowers - Doc x Crosshair - Fluffy prompt for Clone x Reader Bingo (set a couple arcs ahead of Breaking Point)

Warnings: none really - just has a fluffy kiss

I Missed You, Too - Doc x Crosshair - Another fluff fic for Clone x Reader Bingo (a couple arcs after You'll Have to Go Through Me)

Warnings: Crosshair being Crosshair, but he's really a softy. Snuggling in bed. Probably one of the least Warning-heavy things I've written

Doc's Tales with the 104th

Recommended reading Found Footage first though these will take place before Doc joins CF99.

First Impressions - The wolf pack get their first real meeting with Doc.

Warnings: vague bugs

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Click here for my Masterlist.

368 notes · View notes

blank-t137 · 3 months

Text

Doomsday13 Dreamswap-Multiverse

Nightmare

The early stage of the worldview: The authoritarian government (who had cooperated with JR) attempted to use children for human experiments. After the failure, a small number of experimental subjects escaped and disguised themselves as ordinary children, intending to subvert society for revenge. This is the early stage of the worldview from the end: a government (that is, The one who was supposed to use DS!Ink but in this universe they did not) attempted to use children for human experiments. After the failure, a few experimental subjects escaped and disguised themselves as ordinary children, intending to subvert society and take revenge. This is the origin of the apocalypse.

DS original multiverse was incorrectly merged into Domus Dea (creator issue)

Many characters have lost their magical abilities due to the fusion.

Out code characters have some magical abilities (weakened)

Guardian: As long as there is a stable energy source, they can continuously recover and can survive without eating, drinking or sleeping. They are also resistant to zombie viruses (unless they are bent on death, they will basically not be infected). Some guardians can change forms.

However, Dream and Nightmare are not a community of destiny in this AU (In most of my AUs, they are not the kind that if one dies, the other must also die)

The meaning here is roughly that if Nightmare dies, Dream will have memories of nm and feel negative emotions, and if Dream dies, Nightmare will have memories of Dream. (Headcanon)

Nightmare just escaped from the zombie area and had nothing. He could only use his sickles (connected by chains which was different with canon Dreamswap) to kill zombies and eat their meat. He acquired some zombie characteristics due to the zombie wave that initially attacked him, such as being more interested in eating raw meat.

DS Nightmare ''Robin'':

-Lawful Neutral → Chaotic Neutral → Neutral Evil (Canon DS’s nightmare is chaotic neutral)

-The maintainer of order in the black market, who is good at modifying weapons/vehicles, etc., was betrayed when the apocalypse broke out, and was used as a tool to vent his anger. After the use value was drained, he was thrown into the zombie crowd as bait. After that, the dark side of human nature broke out, he escaped from the gathering area and established a black market.

-He was an egoist who was in neutral faction (a bit of a dystopian style, after all, he hates the government which caused these events). If he encounters the teammates(Not Cross and Error) who betrayed him before, he will decisively become their enemy.

-Has lost most of his compassion and kindness.

- Occasionally rob government armed delivery trucks.

-Proficient in weapons: sickles, firearms, including sniper rifles, heavy machine guns, submachine guns, assault rifles, precision shooter rifles, shotguns, grenade launchers and rocket launchers.

-The pure gold headdress on his head was snatched away at the beginning of the zombie apocalypse. After being passed around many times, it was given to ds dream (his brother).

-Currently, he made a new headgear using pure platinum by hand (after all, he have worn it for more than a hundred years and it is uncomfortable even if he don’t wear it).

-He used to serve as a soldier in the army under a fake identity and even became a major general. He basically pawned his military ranks and medals and established a black market. (his pseudonym is Lotus Crescent)

-Kevin was slaughtered at the beginning of the zombie apocalypse but there were some apple seeds left in the dust.

-Raised an eagle, and named it Kevin in memory of Kevin.

-He is friend with Randy, Bobby and Hacker on the black market (the three Creepypasta Squad members can be considered his previous acquaintances, after all, they are all in jail)

-He wears a long, thick cloak on the black market so no one can recognize him as the political prisoner who was wanted for hundreds of years before the end of time.

-Because of his name Robin, he is often mistaken for a girl.

-Occasionally kills government personnel because he believes that many such people are just freeloaders, using other people's survival resources to bully others.

-Nightmare’s life or death in the outside world is unknown

#dreamswap #ds nightmare #doomsdayDreamswap #dreamswap au

42 notes · View notes

maxwell-grant · 2 months

Note

I guess it's also time for the annual ask: Thoughts on The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?

@mirrorfalls asked: Perhaps it's time to touch the elephant in the room: thoughts on League of Extraordinary Gentlemen?

anonymous asked: Any thoughts on Moore's LOEG? anonymous asked: any advice on how to do a fictional character mashup story ala chimera brigade, league, etc? anonymous asked: you wrote a bit on the wold newton universe and the chimera brigade, any thoughts on league of extraordinary gentleman?

(TW: sexual assault, also a whole lot of racism)

(clip from Anti-Spook Squad by Doctor Lalve)

Let it never be said I don't love or do anything for you people because Jesus Christ what an ordeal.

It was pretty inevitable that I'd eventually have to talk about LOEG given the, niche, I made for myself here, and given I'd read and touched on all these other works that either inspired it or were inspired by it, like the Wold Newton Universe, The Chimera Brigade, Tales of the Shadowmen and etc. I'd read through plenty of different LOEG takes and fics, it's an idea that has a lot of appeal on it's own and is easy to flirt with, if not so easy to pull off.

One thing to put upfront: Kevin O'Neil was a brilliant, one-of-a-kind creator and his work here is great, it's the one thing almost unimpeachably great about the whole thing except when he's asked to draw racist caricatures, which he does quite a bit, we'll get into those. I love the collaboration between Moore and O'Neil and I frequently enjoy the little tidbits where they show up as themselves within the supplemental material. O'Neil does a lot of heavy lifting in these even at their worst, in fact especially at their worst. This comic is a legitimately impressive achievement, and I don't regret reading it, if nothing else I think it was a hell of a wake-up call in regards to all of it's warts I may have been overlooking or replicating in my work or that of others.

I'm gonna break it down by going through the individual installments:

Volume 1: One of the nicest things there is to League is that it only keeps getting better, in the sense that it starts off on the worst foot and it gets better by virtue of not really being able to get worse (yes, even with the Golleywog and Harry Potter sections and whatever). From the moment you open the book it takes about six pages for Mina to be assaulted by Brute Arab Rapist Hordes that Quatermain and Nemo have to gun down, and that pretty much sets the stage on what to expect. Volume 1 is where the series has yet to jump off the deep end in tackling all of fiction, being a more grounded adventure story based on it's premise of being a comic book crossover/hero team comprised of Victorian era literary characters. It's LOEG at it's shallowest and most straightforward, and also at it's least impressive. I'm not remotely charmed by much of what's done here, I've seen a million variants of these before and many of those weren't that great either, but their lows weren't as catastrophic.

(text comes from an essay Alan Moore wrote regarding his usage of Fu Manchu in the book, which was scanned and sent to me by @mirrorfalls, thank you for that.)

The LOEG's first enemy is Fu Manchu and the book sure likes depicting leering hordes of yellow peril cartoons for our heroes, Mr Hyde in particular, to brutally mow down. Alan Moore thought the genius trick to making Fu Manchu not-racist was to make him as inscrutable and sinister as possible so as to not even appear human, which is a great understanding of how racial caricatures work guys, the "not potentially offensive" shirt has people asking a lot of questions answered by it.

I've heard a lot of claims over the years that LOEG was intended to be a parody, or satire, and that it's using Fu Manchu to make a point as a criticism of the British Empire and imperialism, and I'm gonna make this clear before we move on: LOEG is not a parody or satire, not as a whole. It parodies and satirizes a lot of things, but it is neither parody nor satire. It is very much in love with much of it's subject matter even when it wants to burn it down. LOEG is also a frankly terrible critique of imperialism, it is one of the most imperialist things I've ever read. Part of it is because you can't just recycle problematic garbage and claim it's commentary, especially when you're going out of your way to sensationalize said garbage to be provocative or in many cases add shit that wasn't even there in the first place. Moore asked if anyone else was gonna try and criticize colonialist bigotry in fiction by tripling down on reproducing it as hard as possible, and then didn't wait for an answer before doing it.

Volume 2: Objectively an improvement over the first if only because Fu Manchu isn't there. It's also where the book kinda improves in terms of making a critique. LOEG never really has much to say about it's characters, instead developing them in service of the story or social commentary, and Volume 2 is better at it than the first. Still has a lot of the same problems as 1, it's still a shallow team-up thing that wants to have it's cake and eat it too, it's still the worse version of a concept that's been done many many times before and after. Edward Hyde gets the bulk of the focus here and he was very clearly Moore and O'Neil's favorite character to work on, he gets the most memorable sequences for better or worse. I don't wanna talk about him much and I don't wanna talk about how the book wraps up the Invisible Man's subplot (and how it's not even gonna be the last time sexual violation of a villain is played for oh-so-horrific catharsis), I'd frankly like to stop thinking about it.

The Traveler's Almanac was definitely the most exhausting part to read in full and only not a total waste of time because of Jess Nevins' annotations, which turn this into fairly valuable research material. But so do Wold Newton articles and they're really not the most riveting thing to read, and at least those have a point or constrain themselves to a single topic or character, or are briefer and come with resources on hand or have a point or even can pitch some neat/cool ideas and concepts as a whole. Jess Nevins even did the better version of this in his own WNU chronologies.

Where as this is just complete ass and there's only so many times you can read a variant of "and then we went to this place with horrible cannibal savages and then we went to the other place with beautiful cannibal savages and then we found this utopia and then we found this dystopia and then we referenced this and that and this and that", and it brings me to another point I'd also seen brought up a lot in regards to LOEG: that it's too damn anglocentric to live up to it's premise, too contradictory within itself, and it was always too big of an undertaking to be done the way Moore and O'Neill did it.

I appreciate Moore trying to make this world feel like a world, in as gigantic all-encompassing a scale as he could possibly account for, with a full world tour and internal chronology. I sure would have liked a big fiction crossover almanac with entire chapters for Africa and China and South America, but we don't get that, because EVERYTHING in them is taken from colonial texts elevated to fact. Literally, entire paragraphs taken from political and colonial texts. All the time spent dicking around with all of those Euro political texts and ancient lore that just had to be paid it's due, and then Orlando goes to China and finds Sun Wukong stuffed as a public freakshow and dismisses his mythos as a bunch of loony (but intriguing and exotic!) hogwash, and Godzilla is later brought up in one line of dialogue to mention how Hugo Hercules killed him offscreen. (I think those might be the only two texts Moore brings up that aren't from European/American sources? There might be others but good luck finding them in the annotations).

Is it unfair to expect Moore to have read all of fiction? Of course it is, but that's what he wants this to be about, he wants this to be about All of Fiction and he wants to write about Africa and China and South America with nothing but colonial texts about those places as reference. He wants to write about how the things he likes are cool and happened and are real while the things he doesn't like don't count or are garbage or didn't happen the way we were told happened. He wants to make a story criticizing racism and misogyny in fiction while writing a text far more racist and misogynistic than most of the things he's bringing up. It's irreconcilable.

Black Dossier: It's constantly jumping between different formats and having to adjust it's prose and visual style accordingly, and it does that fairly well (the beatnik section is completely fucking unreadable though, the prose sections are already a handful to get through as is but that one was too much even for me), although Tempest I think is gonna do it much better. It's got some good parts, it's also got some bad ones. Definitely more readable than the prior two + Almanac.

This is the one with the Gollywog in it and I'm not gonna talk about that thing, I think what's wrong with it is self-explanatory as is. Look, I truly love a lot of Moore's work I've read, and I think a lot of the pushback against Alan Moore painting him as just a cranky old man who hates comics is overblown and shitty and symptomatic of bigger issues with how fans discuss comics and superheroes, but his defense of the Gollywog and his response to the criticisms of LOEG was embarassing and beneath him.

Century: This is the one with Harry Potter and The Lightning Penis in it. To those of you who heard at some point that Alan Moore had done a much-maligned pisstake on Harry Potter and got curious, don't get your hopes up. It's nothing, it's not even that mean, it's just a crude crayon doodle in service of a larger and very dumb critique of modern fiction that could have been anyone. Shame that he bullseyed ahead of the schedule the cultural about-face against Harry Potter without having anything actually criticizing Harry Potter to show for it.

Century does work for me a bit better because it dispenses with the pretense of the series and has it build up to the big awful tragedy it ends on, with all of it's remaining characters miserable immortals and all the fictions having curdled up and gone sour. It works for me only because I have no love whatsoever for this world and so it destroying our characters in the service of the larger narrative about stories and fictional immortality and whatnot is a decision I agree with and I think makes it stronger, even if the social commentary / the story's criticism of modern stories compared to the old ones is frankly absurd. Century I think was perceived as Moore/O'Neill having lost the plot, but to me it feels like the plot (more importantly, the point of it) finally showing up after so much pointless dicking around.

The Nemo trilogy: Easily the one I most enjoyed reading, the Nemo Trilogy is almost like a breather set in between books, just fairly straightforward pulp adventure stories done in far less rancid a fashion than Volume 1. It feels less like a LOEG book and more like one of those LOEG fanfics made by people who like the concept and characters but are dissappointed by the books, so they fill or add or rewrite in the blanks with their own ideas, which is basically every LOEG fanfic ever made. I quite like Janni Dakkar as a character and I'm already a huge mark for Captain Nemo, one of my favorite characters ever, and I was of course very glad to get away from the extremely tiresome Mina/Allan/Orlando trio for a change. Frankly I'd even recommend these as a standalone, they're so disconnected from everything else in LOEG.

If you guys want to read a comic take on Captain Nemo though, read Mobilis by Juni Ba. Infinitely better than anything Moore did with the concept of Nemo, takes far less pages to actually explore the character meaningfully and has far more interesting, more humane and personal things to say and do in general, one of the best things I ever read and a tremendous palette cleanser after LOEG.

Tempest: Tempest is what I'd call the best of the LOEG books, in terms of craft and in terms of achieving what it sets out to do. Namely, it's one of the most elaborate and most artistically impressive slowly unfurling middle fingers I'd ever read, Alan and Kevin in full burning down the house mode throwing everything they've got at the wall, playing around with as many different styles and gags and ideas as they can cram into the great apocalyptic ending of their collaboration. It's a very spiteful work that has a lot of joy and humor to it, fully divested from giving a shit about it's characters and instead recasting them as the bit players they always were in the grand fuckening of humanity at the hands of our fictions.

It gets to burn down everything and also preserve everything in a big dreamy Noah's Ark forever, it plays to every strength the series had, and frankly I barely minded the detours because this thing is all detours. The superhero parody that takes up so much of it isn't really anything funny or insightful or really anything, but there's good bits in it, and I like Alan Moore talking trash about superheroes (of course, it pales in comparison to What Can We Know About Thunderman, but that one is a league of it's own). It's Alan and Kevin's farewell to comics with all the mixed feelings towards it and the industry and the subject matter they both have decades of so much experience with it. It is The End of Everything and I think it ended on the best note it could have ended with.

In summary, I think LOEG has a lot of individually cool or neat or even great ideas that I think get lost, because there is so, so much of it, and so much of it is impressively painted sludge. Sometimes it is ingenious, sometimes it is fun, it is never not visually impressive, but it's more frequently dull and grotesquely self-indulgent and far too shallow. It suffers from an almost inescapable side effect of doing this dealing with the fiction he was dealing with without accounting for taste or bothering to reign in his worst impulses, too much to cover and not enough actually being said about it. In truth, much of it doesn't feel much different than reading the wiki summaries for it I had already read forever ago. It is a unique beast taking swings that I'd never seen before that most wouldn't, probably for very good reasons most of the time. It is also guilty of literally everything it's criticizing other works of being and doing, and sometimes it actually provides it's best commentary because of that! It's a complicated thing to tackle and wrap your head around. God knows what Jess Nevins must have gone through to make the annotations for this, as they put it on the Almanac annotations.

I don't consider it wasted time because, I did really enjoy the final two installments, there are good bits scattered across the other books and I learned some good things from it as a whole, but would I recommend it in it's entirety? Unless you're really a huge fan or completionist for it's creators (although reading LOEG really disillusioned me on Moore in a lot of ways, not that this is a bad thing, if anything that's a necessary thing to really try and grasp a creator's body of work) or you're the kind of sicko who'd be in the tank for the whole thing, no, not really.

It is one of the most impressive and accomplished works I've ever read, I will probably come back to it for research purposes, but holy shit am I glad to put it behind me.

#also thank you davidmann for sending me the epilogue #replies tag #loeg #league of extraordinary gentlemen #alan moore #kevin o'neill #abc comics #comics

52 notes · View notes

mitochondriaandbunnies · 2 months

Text

Miami Vice S1E19: The Home Invaders

Vice helps Sonny's mentor investigate a rash of violent robberies.

A heavy, methodical, paranoid episode* with a surprisingly non-devastating ending and a lot of Castillo doing very serious detective work-- The Home Invaders is another Vice classic, and also a great Crockett & Castillo episode

The Squad is roped into a robbery case in the middle of the night (Gina seems bright-eyed and bushy-tailed-- the rest of them are in various states of decay); a series of homes have been broken into and their residents not only robbed but violently assaulted

There's no Tubbs in this episode, which is explained by an offhand comment from Trudy-- he's in New York "sipping champagne with Valerie," which bothers the hell out of me, because last time we saw her she was going to jail for murder. Next time we see her we learn Sonny pulled some strings to get her exonerated (which... okay. Fine. I don't actually buy it, for a number of reasons, but I do understand why you'd want to get Pam Grier back), but at this point it just seems like a major oversight, like they forgot how the last Val episode ended

When the squad is pulled in to help, we learn that Sonny's old mentor is leading the investigation. Sonny is thrilled to see him and clearly still is harboring a bit of hero worship. Martin is significantly less impressed, looking through the files from the robbery department and asking, essentially: okay, but do you actually have any... clues? This becomes a running theme, and Sonny has to navigate a My Parents Are Divorced situation because of it-- his mentor doesn't actually seem to be doing a very good job with the investigation, but Castillo-- who is incapable of tact on this topic-- is his current boss, and someone he has developed a lot of loyalty to.

Trans Flag Sonny

The episode involves scenes where the robbers are doing the robbery (with faces hidden, violent and unknowable and terrifying), which are really well done and raise the tension and stakes to genuinely uncomfortable levels. However, there are also scenes where they show the robbers plotting, and to be honest I think the episode would've been better without those. This episode is by no means a treatise on the nature of criminality, so by turning them from almost a force of nature into "a couple of chuckling guys talking about money," it just makes them... less scary? (And I think there's a sense early on that Sonny's mentor might be corrupt-- once we meet the titular home invaders, it becomes fairly clear that he's not involved in the crime, he's just phoning it in. I think that extra bit of tension could've been really good!)

This is such a good Castillo episode, partially because it really establishes the dichotomy of how good he is at his job vs. how weird he is and how iffy his social skills are. Castillo will solve the case! But he will absolutely not make eye contact with anyone as he does so. The moment where he and Sonny sit in the car and Castillo just... literally does not move for about a minute is fantastic, and there's another scene that's all cuts between Sonny out pounding the pavement and Castillo... reading. Reading every file ever. Endlessly reading files forever. That is just so emblematic of their two characters. I swear at one point he drinks a random drink he finds on the bar-- he is odd! Insanely competent, but odd.

Sonny realizes Castillo is right, but he does not want to be his babysitter-- he spends a lot of this episode sighing and furrowing his brow and trying to apologize to Malone (his mentor) even though he is actually suspicious of his ability to run this case-- Sonny is very charming, but he actually does not have the emotional wherewithal or bandwidth to play go-between for those two. (There is a scene where Sonny and Marty both ask Malone a bunch of initially gentle and then increasingly dire questions and Malone just..... stops making eye contact, too.)

Gina is sent to the hairdressers to investigate a possible link between victims, and has a really well-done sequence where she is carefully watching everyone in the salon (to the tune of Sheila E.'s The Glamorous Life-- which I always think is a Vanity song, and then I always think about the fact that Prince wanted to name Vanity "Vagina"). It's not only a well-shot and choreographed sequence, but also one where Gina mirrors both Sonny and Castillo-- it's an episode with a lot of watching and looking, and the three of them all get a really lovely opportunity to show off their actual detective skills. Sonny watches the streets and looks for clues there, Castillo watches the actions of the robbery division and looks for clues in files, and Gina watches people, looking for behavioral hints that could help them get to the heart of the case.

Trudy is not given much to do in this one, which is a bummer, because she is also super-extra hot this week. Otherwise it's also a really good "the whole team working together" episode, too.

I do like this episode but there's a bit of mean-spiritedness towards both the sex workers that help them narrow down their suspects and the older woman who is a potential victim-- it's all a little too victim-blamey and ha-ha-women-are-frivolous for my tastes.

So, Sonny has a number of "person I have hero worship feelings about" episodes, and every other one ends with that person being swallowed up by the job and either dying or letting the system turn them bad. Malone, on the other hand, makes amends with Castillo, realizes and admits he's been phoning it in, decides to retire because of that, tells Sonny what he's doing and why, and then goes and eats lunch with Vice Squad. He's the only person in the whole series who shows Sonny that sometimes you need to say goodbye, and gives him an example of what it looks like when you do it on your own terms. Given the ending of the series, Malone may in fact be the true hero of Miami Vice-- he literally says to Sonny "let me show you when it's time for you to put your gun on the shelf," and when the time comes, Sonny also manages to walk away.

Also Castillo/Malone remarriage for the sake of their son arc?

*Re: the home invasion plot and sense of paranoia-- there's a bunch of S3 episodes that basically are just Dick Wolf saying "hey, what if we redo the plot of a S1 episode but worse and with more police brutality," but there's another paranoid home invasion episode in S3 (Shadow in the Dark) that is so good it almost makes The Home Invaders seem a little tame by comparison. It's probably the only "plot retread" episode I actually like just a smidge better than the "original." Nonetheless, this is still a great episode.

#miami vice #miami vice s1 #the home invaders #s1e20 #sonny crockett #martin castillo #gina calabrese #my gifs

24 notes · View notes

blizz4rd1203 · 9 months

Note

i demand more info :)

Theyre a group of Iron Warriors that got fed up with how perturabo was running things at the end of the Horus Heresy and split off after entering the Eye of Terror. They went through some warp time shenanigans and got spit out of the Eye sometime near the beginning of m42. They currently consist of 41 astartes, 20 of which are legionaries (fig 1) , 10 crew a Kratos Heavy Assault Tank called the Iron Repute (fig 2) , their leader Siege Captain John (fig 3) , a squad of Terminators (no picture) and a Leviathan Dreadnought named Bucko (fig 4)

They're currently allied with @hera-the-wizard 's darkmech character Mordax, Engineer of Tzeentch (fig 5) and her scions in their effort to retake her home Forge-World from the Imperium of Man. Currently the only model I have of her scions is a yet-unnamed Questoris Knight of House Caesarean (fig 6).

#and theyre all trans guys except mordax and the knight #i need to make a tech marine model tho #wh40k #iron warriors #house caesarean

63 notes · View notes

hoffstrap-yuri · 12 days

Text

Passing Through

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary: “Sir… I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to turn around, and drop your pants.” Hoffman didn't think this situation could get any worse. (Saw AU for the Mule 2014)

*Rating: M for Mature Audiences

*Content/Tags: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, AU, Alternate Universe, Drugs, Drug Trafficking, Crime

*Status: Chapter 1 of 3/IN PROGRESS

Author's Note: So uhhh this won't be as graphic as The Mule 2014 but it's still an AU based on the movie. This is still a fucking nasty idea that my friend @cubestrahm wanted to see come to fruition so badly and I'd do anything for her <3

“Sir… I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to turn around, and drop your pants.” A security agent cleared his throat. The man sighed as he was stripped of any sense of shame and stripped for the two agents. The agents behind him silently pantomimed ‘rock, paper, scissors’ over who was going to examine the man’s ass and see if in fact he was being used as a mule. The man clearly lost and moved closer to their detainee. He grabbed a glove and started to probe the other man. “Nothing.”

“Right. So can I go?” The man finally said, pulling his pants back up.

“Well… no.” The agent replied, “Wait here with Officer Martinez.”

“Fine.” He sighed in response. The female officer stood across from him in the holding room as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. John was going to kill him if this took any longer. The brand new clock hanging just over the door frame told him it was 3:23. He and Amanda were supposed to meet John’s driver at the airport at 3:09. He ran his hand through his hair as he waited in silence with this worker. The door opened and rather than letting him go free, there were two more serious looking agents. Another woman and man duo. The woman approached him and said sternly,

“Mark Hoffman, you’re under arrest for the transportation of illegal substances into the United States.” She slapped his wrist with handcuffs and pulled him out to a separate interrogation room. This was definitely going to take longer than a few minutes.

---

Mark Hoffman hadn’t wanted to do this. He didn’t just wake up one day and had an urge to fill his stomach up with a crap ton of cocaine filled condoms just for shits and giggles. The real reason he was doing it was simple. He’d gotten involved with one of John Kramer’s little sidekicks, Amanda. The girl had a mouth on her and an attitude to match. When Mark was about to pick her up she spat in his face and tried leaving a size seven boot mark on the beat cop’s face. He was able to restrain her, but the girl screamed, kicked and bit at Mark’s direction like a feral animal afraid to be put down. He kept a foot firm on the back of her neck as he managed to wrestle away a wallet from her pocket that had her real id on her. She wasn’t even thirty. Just a couple of months younger than his own sister, Angelina. He knew that he should book her. Hell some people in his department might add on a resisting arrest and assault of a police officer just to really stick it to the woman. He pulled her back up onto her feet, only for her to charge him blindly. The wind got knocked out of him as his back made contact with a brick wall. He took his hands and placed them firmly on her shoulders.

“Stop. I’m not going to arrest you. If you just fucking calm down…” He told her as she tried to fight free from his hands. She stopped long enough to hear the morally dubious cop out.

“What the hell do you want from me then, huh? You want me to jerk you off?” She snarled at him

“No. Just promise me you’ll go to rehab.”

“It can’t be that easy.” She rolled her eyes and laughed at him

“It’s that easy. I’ll take you right now to a clinic.”

“Fine.” She huffed as Hoffman pulled her into his squad car. He pulled up to a clinic he was familiar with and opened the door for her. She crawled out from the back and waited outside for a second while he got back into his car. With a heavy sigh, she trudged towards the door and that was the last that Hoffman thought he’d ever see of her. Clearly the lesson didn’t stick.

---

“Mark Hoffman. Police…”

“Detective.” Mark piped up

“… Detective.” The man corrected himself. He couldn’t hide the rolling of his eyes as the ‘detective’ insisted upon the distinction between his role and that of a beat cop. “Anyway, I’m Agent Peter Strahm, and this is my partner Lindsey Perez. We’ve got your file here. Graduated from police academy at 20… been at your precinct your whole career. Why the hell would you risk all that just to smuggle some fucking drugs into the country?”

“You’re operating on the assumption that I’m carrying drugs on me.”

“Well we’ve already searched your luggage, and there wasn’t anything there…” The female agent started. While her partner stayed seated across from Hoffman, she paced the room behind him like a shark circling its kill. Hoffman was all too familiar with the tactic as an officer of the law.

“Again. You’re operating under the assumption that I am acting as a drug mule. The only problem with your assumption is… that you’re entirely wrong.” Hoffman shrugged. He saw the blood veins starting to pop out of the male agent’s forehead before he took a deep breath.

“Listen.” He said, with one last appeal at Hoffman’s sense of justice. “Just tell us now, you might get slapped on the wrist. Five to ten years if you rat out the person you’re carrying for.”

“I would, if I had an inkling what you were talking about.” Hoffman replied. Strahm threw his hands up in the air and stepped out into the hallway, probably to call his and Perez’s supervisor. Perez leaned in against the table as her partner stood on the other side of the wall. Not a word was exchanged between the two of them until Strahm stepped back into the room.

“Legal precedence says we’re allowed to detain you for up to 4 days or until you’ve emptied your bowels twice. Or you could just submit to an x-ray scan.”

“And my answer will be the same as it was in security, I don’t want a scan.”

“Fine. Then you’ll be joining us in a nice little hotel room.” Strahm slapped the cuffs back onto Hoffman’s wrists and walked around the table to pull the suspect up onto his feet.

“Kinky.” Mark muttered under his breath. The two detectives looked at him, but neither managed to pick up what he had said. They paraded him out of the airport proper and shoved him into a shitty Chevy caprice, Agent Strahm’s if Mark had to take a wild stab in the dark. He watched out the window as five different lanes of traffic merged down into three then two to get them out of the airport. They drove approximately five miles from the airport and pulled into a second-rate hotel’s parking lot. Lindsey tucked Hoffman’s head under the door frame as she pulled him out and the agents dragged him up to a room somewhere in the middle of the hotel. From a glance, Hoffman saw no one but federal agents in the hallways, they probably bought out this floor to keep him from escaping in the dead of night. Strahm opened the door for Hoffman before shoving the bulkier man into the room. It was bare-bones. A bed, a bathroom, and a TV. Everything a businessman could need between flights out of town. Lindsey manhandled him in a similar fashion when a third agent showed up behind the two of them and sat down in the chair across from Mark’s bed.

“Here’s the rules. Either you stay here for four days straight under constant surveillance by either Perez, Agent Erickson, or myself or you submit to an x-ray exam. Whichever one comes first.” Strahm explained. “Get comfortable. You’re going to lose your mind if you don’t find someway to occupy your time here.”

“Thanks for the tip, counselor.” Hoffman rolled his eyes at the special agent’s fake pleasantries.

“If you need to use the bathroom, you tell Agent Erickson. If you need food, Erickson.” Peter continued. Hoffman opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but kept it shut when he realized it probably wouldn’t look good in a court case if he had mouthed off to the agent more than he had already had. He honestly thought, ‘and if I need a hand job, Erickson’ was pretty funny in his head. If only Strahm had any sense of humor. He slid back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling of his room. So this would be his cell for the next half a week. He only hope he could hold in the drugs long enough to get through these next four days.

---

“I’m home.” Hoffman kicked his shoes off by the door, yelling into the house. His calls go unanswered for a moment, but then his sister shouted something. “I can’t hear you, Ang.”

“I said I’m in here!” She yelled back. He followed her voice and found her in the process of cleaning her room. “Hi Mark.”

“Hi Ang.” He leaned against the door frame before asking her, “What are you up to?”

“Just reorganizing my closet.” A sweater flew past his face for emphasis on his sister’s point.

“I see. What do you want for dinner?”

“Anything’s fine.” She hummed to a tune rotating through her mental library. “Oh by the way…”

“Yeah?”

“Some guy stopped by earlier. Said you knew someone named Amanda and that she had work for you?”

“I don’t know an ‘Amanda’.” He played coy, even though he vividly remembered the addict he’d put into rehab. Or so he thought. What kind of ‘work’ did she have for him? “Thanks for taking that.”

“You’re welcome. He left a tape player, it should be on the kitchen table.”

“I’ll check it out.” He turned on his heels back to the kitchen and grabbed the player off the table to listen.

“Hello Detective.” A low voice started. Even in her deepest imitation of a man’s voice, Amanda couldn’t have recorded this. “You don’t know me, but I am the man who Amanda works for. I’m sure you and your co-workers have been eager to put a stop to my empire. You took pity on Amanda and for that I thank you, however ‘thanks’ doesn’t run a business. Meet with her tomorrow at 2 at the bar around the corner from your precinct to discuss the work you’ll be doing for me. You might ask yourself ‘Why would I work for a criminal when I’m a man of the law?’ and I will tell you right now. It’s your love for you sister. The only tether you have to this world. I will break said tether if you decide that you think you’re better than me and try to avoid my job I’ve given to you.” Like that the tape stopped. Mark flipped it over just to make sure there wasn’t anything else recorded on the opposite side of the tape. Something that could pinpoint where this asshole was and take him in before the meeting was supposed to take place but he listened in vain. He slide the player away from him and paced the kitchen. He tried to think of something he could do that would prevent Angie from being a causality in his lapse in judgment, now coming back to bite him in the ass. He ran his fingers through his hair before Angie interrupted his thoughts in person this time,

“It can’t be that hard to figure out what pizza shop you want to order from tonight.” She smiled at him

“Pick whichever one you want.” He sighed

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Rough day at work.” He lied to her. The less she knew about this whole deal the better.

“Okay. I’ll call in the order, but you’re driving to get it.” She laughed

“That’s fine.” He shrugged, trying to bask in the warmth of her presence and calm himself down. The rest of the night was uneventful, but Mark didn’t get a bit of sleep. As he was told, he showed up to the bar. There was no one in the bar except Amanda. She looked oddly calm.

“Detective.” Her expression was blank… he didn’t know if that was an improvement over the feral animal he ‘saved’ that day or if this was just some lobotomized version of the woman.

“Just get to the point. What does your guy need from me?”

“John. His name is John.” She spit at him. The pieces started falling into place in Hoffman’s mind. Her boss was John Fucking Kramer. His body went frigid. His whole department had been searching for the man for at least five years, and now this man had Hoffman in his sights. Worst than that, Angie was in the crossfire because of him and his compassion for someone that reminded him a bit too much of his sister.

“Fucking hell” were the only words that he was able to sputter out.

“Yeah.” Her expression turned into a crooked smile as she saw the wheels spinning in the detective’s head.

“What does John want from me?”

“Simple. You’re coming with me to Thailand and we’re bringing back drugs for John.” She told him like it was a trip to the corner store.

“Are you two fucking insane? I don’t even have a passport…”

“Already taken care of.” She slipped a royal blue document from her pants pocket and shoved it into Mark’s hand

“How did you get my info to forge this?”

“It’s amazing what you can find out with just a badge number, Detective.” She started to walk away from him

“Wait.” He turned towards her. She stopped and faced him once more, crossing her arms in front of her. “When are we going?”

“Next week. Meet me here.”

“Fine.” He grumbled and went back to work like that whole exchange hadn’t happened

---

The trip was uneventful. Many people in his life had told Mark that he should visit Thailand one day. He’d love the beaches, the food, the culture… and he got none of that. Amanda dragged his ass at butt o’clock in the morning to the supplier, making him wait for what felt like hours in five minutes as she grabbed a duffel bag’s worth of cocaine. She took him back to the hotel and explained how he was going to smuggle the cocaine back into the States. She spent nearly 3 hours tying up condoms full of the drugs and placed it before Mark. He only half-listened to the woman before her hand was on his thick throat and the other was forcing down the first balloon through his mouth. He nearly choked on the foreign intrusion before mouthing off to her.

“You could have warned me first.”

“Call it a right of passage. Open back up.” Her grip stayed firm on his neck. He begrudgingly opened his lips up for her and she took a handful this time and pushed it into his mouth. His throat had never hurt so badly. Tears escaped from the corners of his eyes until it was finally over. He ran a hand over his stomach, it didn’t feel like there was anything inside of him. Would they all just burst out of him at once like a chest buster with one wrong breath? “And this….” Amanda shook a nondescript bottle at him before taking out four pills. Rather than fight it again he swallowed them. “That should block you up for long enough… but just in case your fat ass goes through it faster…” Another four pills went down the hatch. He barely had time to recover before the woman shoved his passport into his hand and threw his bags at him. They got onto the plane without a word spoken between them, and Amanda all but abandoned him during security. They had a set timeline that they needed to get to John’s car by. When his bag didn’t show up and he looked at his watch. He didn’t have time to wait, so he booked it through security. Just as he thought he was in the clear was when the illusion all came crashing down. And that was why he was here now.

#saw fanfiction #mark hoffman #peter strahm #lindsey perez #amanda young #saw franchise #sawposting #saw #saw movies #the mule 2014 #the mule #crack #crack fic #crack treated seriously #this was a labor of love but god it's such a shitpost #angelina acomb #john kramer

12 notes · View notes

jakey-beefed-it · 8 days

Text

Built all 10 scouts. Built them as 2 squads of five, each with Sergeant (chainsword & bolt pistol), sniper, missile launcher, and 2 shotguns. Everybody got camo cloaks. Between 2 stormcast heads and a statuesque minis head, 3 of them are girls- a sergeant, a missile launcher, and a sniper rifle. Also stuck a cool stormcast dude head on the other sergeant, so he gets to have a goatee and dreadlocks.

Thinking in actual games I'll use them mostly to dash out and contest midfield objectives (taking the hit to heavy weapons on the move) but they'll be Not Terrible at ranged support, and the sergeants will be able to melee kill like, fire warriors and guardians anyway.

Considered building them all with shotguns and just really leaning into the assault weapons but nah; they look cooler this way.

#jake plays warhammer 40k #Ultramarines #Warhammer 40k #Space Marines #Adeptus Astartes #Female Space Marines

12 notes · View notes

reneeofthestars · 2 months

Text

REMEMBER THE FALLEN

Summary:

After a harrowing battle, Captain Mark and the other clone leaders of Chimera Company celebrate and mourn their fallen brothers.

Originally written for the unpublished fanzine, We Were Here - @cloneoczine celebrating Clone Trooper OCs

Word Count: 4,229

Mark stood on the landing platform for several minutes after the Jedi speeder disappeared into the distant Coruscanti traffic.

The airspace around the clone trooper barracks was quiet. With civilian traffic restricted and the next closest clone regiment a good distance away, the noise and light pollution was severely diluted, leaving Mark feeling strangely isolated.

His arms hung heavy at his sides, as they’d been when Commander Tiatkin had hugged him tightly. He hadn’t embraced her back; not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t find the energy to raise his arms. It felt nice, though.

The Jedi had cried. Two years ago, Mark would have been appalled at the very idea of the all-powerful Jedi showing such emotion. But he understood now that Jedi were only mortal, and General Teyla Marin and Commander Gida Tiatkin were held very dearly by the clones of Chimera Company. It meant more to Mark than he could say that the two women had spent the entire day in the barracks, mourning with the troopers.

Their last battle had devolved into a nightmare.

Mark felt no ill-will towards the Jedi; they had done everything they could to counter the Separatist army, but Chimera Company had been outnumbered and outmaneuvered. The mission had been straightforward: Chimera Company was sent to wipe out a Separatist outpost on the jungle world of Akiva, and bring the planet under Republic protection.

He passed a hand over his face, scratching at his beard. The intel had been wrong. So very, very wrong.

They’d gone in prepared to assault a base. What they found instead was a battle droid factory, deep in the catacombs beneath the planet’s surface, churning out droid after droid after droid. It wasn’t the first time their intel had been bad, but never this bad.

The entirety of Tazer Squad sacrificed themselves to sabotage the factory. Though Mark hadn’t been able to get confirmation, and wanted to believe that they’d survived, the fact remained that he had last seen them swarmed by droids, falling beneath skeletons of steel. And somehow… he just knew they were gone.

General Marin said it was his Force-sensitivity. She’d carefully broached the subject a few months ago, and she and Commander Tiatkin had been… not necessarily training him, but teaching him about this bizarre connection he had. He hadn’t believed them at first; only Jedi could use the Force. But once he stopped resisting the idea, and opened himself to the possibility…

While he was still uneasy about the whole thing, Mark was learning that he could use the Force. He felt the ebb and flow of energy when the Jedi meditated with him, and could move small objects across the table. It came through most clearly during combat, when he wasn’t trying to use it at all. He noticed it first in the uncanny accuracy of his shooting, then in his reaction time. And it finally explained the connection he felt with the other clones, on a level he couldn’t describe. He could sense their feelings, could tell when they were lying, could know their intentions. Mark had always known those things, but now he understood why.

And it was that why that forced him to face that every member of Tazer Squad was dead. He just knew.

He said their names out loud. The dark night of Coruscant might not care, but he did.

“Boots. Amari. Hatchet. Garrett. Lorn. Mouse. Targon. Mechi. Shave. Nath.”

Tazer Squad weren’t the only deaths.

General Marin called for the evacuation, but Separatist ships had lurked unseen in the shadow of nearby world Malrev IV and delayed the assistance of the Zenith of the Republic, leaving Chimera Company stranded planet-side with droids pouring from the catacombs, surrounding the Republic forces in a valley.

“Mixer. Shorty. Gangle. Anchor. Ralphie. Buzz. Kory. Sunspot.”

The droids kept coming. Brothers fell around him. Explosions rocked the world.

“Avery. Karn. Arial. Carbine. Brink. Gale. Twister.”

It was only thanks to a Republic-aligned local militia that Chimera Company wasn’t completely wiped out. Ground forces came in from behind the droids and cut a path for Mark and the others to escape through, and provided cover while they fought to get to an elevation that the transport ships could access. Meanwhile, the militia sent their limited fighters and gunships to aid the Zenith in keeping the Separatist ships at bay.

“Hazel. Mac. Croaker. Cred. Vent. Hinter. Gossip.”

Nearly everyone was injured. Blaster burns, broken bones, cuts, concussions, contusions. Mark himself suffered a blaster bolt to his chest, reaggravating an old wound. Commander Tiatkin got caught at the edge of an explosion and had been flung across the valley, landing unconscious. General Marin collapsed from exhaustion as soon as the Zenith jumped to hyperspace.

A week later, most of the clones had recovered, though a handful remained in critical care. Marin and Taitkin arrived at the barracks as soon as they were released from the Jedi Temple’s med center. And together, they all mourned. And laughed, which Mark hadn’t been expecting. But the Jedi had begun reminiscing about those who had been lost, and before long there was laughter and smiles. Sorrow still tinged it all, but it was easier to bear.

Mark drew a deep breath, trying to center himself. To feel himself here and now, boots on the landing pad, rooted to the world, to the galaxy. Constant and present like the cities of Kamino, stalwart and unyielding to the tempests around it. That had been an argument between General Marin and Mark, in the beginning of his not-training. She had described her mediations as floating in a void, tethers to all other beings keeping her in place. But Mark didn’t feel that. He couldn’t let himself feel weightless, drifting; he needed to be grounded, sure of himself before he reached out to others.

It was several minutes before Mark finally made his way back indoors. He lost track of how many times he clasped a trooper’s shoulder or hand, how many more he nodded to.

By the time he got to the officer’s quarters, he wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his bunk. But as the door slid open, he realized that wasn’t going to be the case.

The four lieutenants of Chimera Company were gathered in the center of the room, having hauled over chairs around a supply crate; a jug full of liquid sat on the crate, surrounded by five cups. Mark made his way to the empty chair, shucking his armor as he went. He let the purple-painted armor clatter to the ground, for once not caring about packing it away properly.

He accepted a cup proffered by Bookie before collapsing into the chair. “Hal, how’s your leg?”

Hal – fresh out of the med bay– grunted and extended his right leg gingerly out in front of him. “Stiff, but the bone’s mended. I can walk on it.” He waved a hand. “And Cleese’s got his hearing back.”

“What?” Cleese asked loudly, the scar across the bridge of his nose crinkling as he failed to keep from smirking.

Tech rolled his eyes and shoved Cleese’s shoulder. “What about you, Captain?”

“Stings a bit,” Mark admitted, a hand going absently to his chest, “but that’s the last time you’ll hear me say it.” The faintly caustic smell emanating from the purple liquid in his cup signified Christophsis tals – potent, crystal-cured alcohol. There had been toasts and honorifics all day, but one more could do no harm. He raised his glass. “To those who rest, and those who live. Vode An – brothers all.”

“Brothers all,” the other for echoed. They drank deeply; Mark’s eyes watered.

After a while of listening to the shuffle of footsteps out in the hall and the hum of power through the barracks, Bookie leaned forward, a loc of purple-dyed hair falling into his apprehensive eyes. “Captain? When are we due back to the front?”

Mark drained his cup and refilled it, keeping his eyes fixed on the sloshing liquid. His tongue tingled from it, but it would be another cup or two before he really started to feel its effects. It had been a while since he’d been properly drunk.

“Mark?”

“The Republic wants us mission-ready in two days.”

Cleese uttered a low curse, but Tech talked over him. “And the Jedi?”

“Marin said the Jedi Council agreed to not assign anything for seven days. She’s going to push for longer, but I think that’s all we’re going to get.”

A muscle jumped in Hal’s neck, right under the black ink of the Republic tattoo there. “A week is fine. Any longer, we’d all go stir-crazy. Don’t know about the rest of you, but I need action – I can’t just hang out at Seventy-Nine’s indefinitely.”

“How –” Bookie faltered, then pressed on. “How long did it take you to move on before? With… with your original company?”

Hal turned a baleful look on him. “It’s not a matter of ‘moving on’. It’s about not being stuck.” He drummed his fingers on the crate. “I was in the med bay for a week after the attack. Shattered my collar bone and a few ribs. It was all volunteer medics – no clones – and they wouldn’t tell me anything. That should’ve been my first clue something was wrong. They dunked me in some bacta, then kept me cooped up til I thought I was gonna short-circuit. By the time they let me out, I was ready to kill something.”

He paused, his focus drifting. “Went to join up with the boys – but found out I was reassigned cuz everyone else was dead. I was on the field the next day. It helped, being able to focus on the missions. But if I’d just… if I’d waited just a moment during the attack, I might’ve been able to grab a few others.”

Cleese frowned. “What d’you mean?”

“The clankers hit our outpost with an orbital bombardment. I only survived because I was able to make it to a reinforced bunker. There were three clones right behind me when we started running. But when I reached the bunker and turned around to pull them in, they were two dozen feet behind me. And a blast came down right on top of them. I couldn’t have outrun them that quick; maybe they got tripped up by something. But if I’d slowed up, realized I got ahead of them – ” he broke off and glowered at his cup.

The guilt rolled off Hal in waves. It was a pain shared by all the clones of Chimera Company; they were all survivors from other companies and squads that no longer existed.

“This is a day for remembering our brothers.” Mark raised his glass. “To Zeta Company.”

Hal’s harsh expression faltered and he ducked his head to hide his tears as the others repeated the salute.

Bookie spoke up; Mark felt his embarrassment at having prodded Hal. “We were fractured at Ryloth. We weren’t expecting the Separatist interest in the planet, and they hit us with more forces than we ever expected. It was a slaughter. Two of our squads survived the initial battle, and we hid in the canyons while we waited for reinforcements. But the droids chased us down.” Bookie averted his gaze, unable to make eye contact. “I was able to duck down quick enough after taking potshots – I dodged the bolts that came my way. But most of the others couldn’t. Only six of us walked away. They reassigned us to another force on Ryloth three days later. I think I would have liked to have some more time to process everything; I feel like I had to move on too fast.” He took a swig of the tal. “The Fifty-Eighth Battalion.”

They toasted; Mark took a smaller sip, a pleasantly warm buzz already at the edges of this consciousness. He had wondered when they’d have this conversation. Chimera Company had been formed almost two and a half years ago, and though they had all strengthened their bonds over that time, they’d never discussed where they’d come from, what they had experienced. Mark knew the stories of the rest of the company, but he’d hadn’t pressed the lieutenants; the weight of living while those under your command had died was a harder burden to bear.

After a stretch of silence, Tech turned his head away. “We didn’t even fall to the Separatists.” The bitterness in his voice made Mark’s gut twist. “There was a distress beacon out in the middle of nowhere. The General and the Captain argued about it, but the Jedi finally ordered the ship to go and offer assistance.”

“And there was nothing there?” Hal asked.

“Oh, there was. A civilian cruise ship, dead in the void. We boarded to search for survivors. Once we were all split up, the pirates made their move. They’d been lying in wait onboard, and picked us off as we went through the halls, and their ships dropped out of hyperspace and took out our capital ship.”

“How’d you get out?” Bookie asked, refilling Tech’s cup.

“A small group of us were in the lower levels of the ship. I could tell when they were nearby – I think I could hear them, or whatever – so we were able to sneak around them, for the most part. We managed to steal one of their smaller ships and get away. No one else survived.” He tapped his cup thoughtfully. “I was reassigned the next day, after we were debriefed. Didn’t really have time to process what happened. I just tried to fit in with the new group.”

“To the Two-Oh-Third,” Mark intoned.

After they drank, they looked to Cleese.

He scowled. “What?”

“What about you?”

Cleese’s lip curled. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Mark set his cup down. “You’ll need to eventually,” he murmured softly.

Cleese’s head snapped toward him. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’ve been carrying around the weight of it since you lost your company. I don’t think you’ve ever let yourself mourn.”

“There’s always more brothers to mourn,” Cleese snarled. “More dead, every day – it’s a miracle that Chimera Company hasn’t suffered major losses like this before. There’s always dead brothers that need remembering, but there’s no time for it – we have to keep moving, we have to keep marching on, to win this war, so they didn’t die for nothing.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the barracks’ generators. “I read the official report,” Mark said carefully. “That Haval Company responded to a distress call at Garentti’s Keep and gave the civilians enough time to evacuate the city and escape into hyperspace. You saved over two thousand people.”

“And I lost one-hundred thirty-seven men!” Cleese launched himself onto his feet, hands clenched at his sides. “One-hundred thirty-seven brothers who were depending on me to get them out alive. And they died. I only focused on the tanks and ships attacking from the north, I didn’t think to look out for anything else. A whole squad of commando droids crawled out from the cliffs to the south. Only reason I lived was ‘cause I felt one of the karking things sneak up behind me. They took us out from behind, and the clankers overran us.”

“You had no way of knowing. You did what you could with what you had.”

“And what about you, Mark?” Cleese was suddenly in Mark’s face. Anger radiated from him, washing over Mark in such a tangible way that he almost toppled off his seat. “Have you talked about losing the Eighty-Second? Only twelve of you survived, right? You lost an entire battalion. You gonna act like you’ve gotten over that? That you’re gonna get over this?”

He may have said more, but a high-pitched ringing in Mark’s ear drowned him out. Mark’s blood boiled and heart hammered, aching beneath the blaster burn scar. Brothers could fight, could say things and apologize later. A captain couldn’t.

Mark ground his teeth together as he slowly stood. Cleese filled his vision, shaking and blinking hard. Mark hadn’t gone over managing his emotions with the Jedi yet. Marin said it was because he already had control over it, that she wasn’t worried he would act out of anger. He wasn’t about to start now.

“Of course I never got over it.” Mark kept his voice low and even. “I did what I could, and it wasn’t enough. After that slaughter on Eadu’s moon, I blamed General Thalen, I blamed the Separatists, I blamed myself – I even blamed the ones who died. But the end result was the same. The men under my command were dead, and I wasn’t able to help them. It was out of my control. That doesn’t make the pain go away. Or the guilt. But when I was given command of Chimera Company, I had to pull myself out of my own misery, because others were depending on me.”

He paused and drew a shaky breath. The others were silent, waiting. Drawing on the Force, he grounded himself. And as he did, he felt his connection to them like a heartstring. He softened his voice.

“And this? No, I’m not going to move on very quickly. It’s easier, sure, because more of us survived, and I know that we’ll remain together. But what eases more of the pain for me is this.” He gestured to the assembled lieutenants. “Being together. Remembering together. The twelve of us from the Eighty-Second, we got four days. And all were hazy to me but the last one. Because the night before reassignment, we all met up in the mess and talked about the ones we’d lost. Just like we did today. For me, it doesn’t matter how many days it’s been – or how many years. The pain is still there. But it’s easier to bear when I’m with others who understand it.”

Cleese’s anger had melted into sorrow, and he didn’t say anything; he just sank back to his seat, head in his hands. Mark clapped a hand onto his shoulder, and raised his cup. “To Havel Company. And to the Eighty-Second.”

“I’m sorry, Mark,” Cleese murmured after he drained his glass.

Mark sat down heavily beside him. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

The other man smiled ruefully at the rapidly-emptying pitcher. “As far as gatherings go, I much prefer happier ones. One of the Haval Company squads learned from some local children about birthdays. The kids didn’t like that none of us clones exactly have a ‘birth-day’. So they decided that all clones were born on that day, and somehow convinced their parents to throw the entire Company a birthday party.” Though it was undercut by a dry sob, Cleese laughed. “I’ve never had such sweet desserts, before or since. That cake was way too rich, and we ate way too much of it.”

“Oh, cake will get you in trouble!” Bookie jumped in, his eyes suddenly bright. “Charger almost got married because of cake once.”

“Married? But we’re not allowed to marry until retirement.” Tech cocked his head to the side, frowning. “Unless that’s changed?”

“It’s still the same. It was an accident. We were on a backwater world where Basic wasn’t well-spoken. One of the locals offered him a cake – in a real meaningful way – but Charger just thought he was being friendly. The translator saw what was going on and managed to set it straight.”

Tech shook his head with a smile. “The long-necks really should have taught us to speak more than just Basic. I think I’d like to understand Huttese – it seems useful.”

“You had any communication mix-ups?” Cleese asked. Mark was relieved to see he’d relaxed.

“All the time. The boys always had trouble in the Outer-Rim markets.” Seeming to jump from one memory to another, he went on. “I was just thinking of the time a shiny – he didn’t live long enough to get a name…” Tech faltered, then gave a weak smile. “This shiny started trash-talking me to my face. Since I’ve always been pretty regulation, he thought I was a shiny from another unit. Didn’t realize I was the squad leader.”

Mark laughed. “What did he say?”

“He was complaining about the drills I was running them through. Thought I was treating them like cadets. He didn’t expect me to be going through the paces with them.”

“Shinies always have such big heads in the beginning.” Hal settled back, throwing an arm over the back of his chair. “Sometimes those heads never deflate. I had a kid in Zeta Co that crashed everything he ever piloted. Fighters, AT-RTs, speeders – if it had a control yoke, he’d end up walking away from a flaming heap of debris with a smile on his face. We called him Crash after the second time.”

After another drink, Cleese turned his watery gaze toward Mark. “I’d asked you when we first met, Mark, but I don’t think you ever actually answered me. The strike team you led on Brentaal Four. Did you really use a B-One’s faceplate to tunnel under a Separatist compound?”

He hadn’t thought of that mission in ages. “We didn’t just use a droid’s faceplate. But some of our tools had to be left behind when we had a complication with landing, so it was the next best thing available.”

“And that worked?” Bookie said incredulously.

“Droids never considered that we’d try to dig our way through. Besides, they were preoccupied with a diversionary force in orbit. If I hadn’t been so concerned about rules at the time, I would’ve let the men keep it as a trophy. It was probably the most useful thing the droid had ever done.”

Cleese slapped his leg as he laughed, tal sloshing out of his cup as he did. “Ah, damn.” He reached for a rag on a trunk behind him, still focused on the dripping liquid. The rag was about a foot away, but before Mark could get up to grab it for him – it moved.

Mark froze, watching as the rag twitched, then slid right into Cleese’s fumbling hand.

He stared at the other man, but Cleese didn’t seem to notice; he was focused on mopping up the mess, saying that at least he hadn’t hit the pitcher.

The Force. Cleese had just used the Force. Mark knew it. But how?

“You okay, Mark?” Bookie asked. Bookie, who had been able to dodge blaster bolts, moving just before they could hit him. Mark slowly looked around the circle.

Hal, who had found himself moving with unprecedented speed. Tech, who had sensed when pirates were nearby. And Cleese, who had sensed danger behind him, who had just moved a rag without touching it.

But then other instances started coming to the forefront of his memory: a clone who always caught whatever was thrown at him, even when he wasn’t looking; a squad jumping much further than they should have been able to over a crevasse; a clone that every animal seemed to become docile around; and every time someone had muttered that they had a bad feeling just before something went wrong.

They piled up, instance after instance of clones in Chimera Company that were just a bit faster or stronger, a bit more agile or focused, a bit luckier or more aware, a bit more –

Seas. They’re all Force-sensitive.

“Mark?” Bookie repeated, concern creasing his brow. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Mark croaked, blinking rapidly. His heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing. “Yeah, I just – It’s been a day.” He stood, the alcohol rushing to his head and making him teeter for a moment. No, it wasn’t just the tal; it was the adrenaline that suddenly coursed through his veins, the energy that came with suddenly knowing something vital and not knowing what to do with it. “I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.”

The others made to rise, but Mark waved them down. “Don’t let me interrupt this. Stay up as long as you need. And remember – this doesn’t have to be limited to today. We can mourn and remember as long as we need.”

The others called out their good nights as he gathered his armor and made his way to the far end of the officers’ quarters. A door led to his private bunk, and when it slid shut behind him he stood there, arms shaking as he put his armor away.

Force-sensitive. Was that how they’d all survived? The remnants of companies and battalions that made up Chimera Company, had they all lived because of the Force? Because they subconsciously tapped into an energy that they didn’t know about, and enhanced their skills, like he had?

Did it matter?

Before General Marin had started teaching him about the Force, Mark would have said no, it didn’t matter; the troopers had their abilities and advantages, and it didn’t matter where they came from.

But a company of trained, Force-sensitive clones? They would be a force to be reckoned with.

But would the Jedi see it that way? Would the Republic?

Mark sat on the edge of his bunk, elbows on his knees as he stared at his armor. He’d need to talk to Marin about it. He trusted her. Hopefully, she’d have an idea of how to proceed.

17 notes · View notes