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viking-raider · 2 years

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Afterlife *One-Shot*

Summary: Clark becomes aware of his own death, in the aftermath of his battle with Doomsday, while you grieve for him.

Pairing: Clark Kent (Superman)/Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Warning: G - Angst, Trauma, Mention of Death and the Great Beyond, Greiving, Depression, Fighting, Alien Technology, Light Amnesia, HEA

Inspiration: I had this headcanon after watching Batman v Superman.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

The first thing Clark remembered, after Doomsday stabbed him through the heart, was emptiness. It was quiet, dark and empty. He couldn't pinpoint where he was in the universe or if he even was in the universe anymore.

His next thought was for you, you had been in downtown Metropolis, while he, Bruce and Diana fought Doomsday. He had to save you, when you went for the Kryptonite spear. He recalled telling you that you were his world, that he loved you, before taking the spear himself and flying off towards the monster, impaling Doomsday through the chest with it.

Had I killed it, before it killed me? Is she safe now?

It became abundantly apparent to Clark that he was dead. There was no other way around it.

If it were anything else, he likely would have recovered by now, however long by now it was. He was inhabiting some state of being, aware and conscious of himself, and could only answer it by him being a Kryptonian. He wondered if this was a natural Kryptonian occurrence, once their body died, that their consciousness lived on for some sort of duration or perhaps his body was still intact enough and his body's refusal to decay allowed him to be mentally aware, while still dead, somehow.

It truly baffled him.

Is Zod in a similar state? Are my biological parents? Is there a way for me to reach out to them?

He let himself go quiet and listened for anything that might potentially be moving or making a sound around him, he remained that way for a long time, hoping for any semblance of contact in the space beyond, but heard and felt nothing, other than himself.

Finding no reason in returning to the surface of his consciousness, Clark receded further inside of it, the quiet outside was only a tortured reminder of the loneliness and his death, of being without you and the pain he knew he left you in. The life the two of you would now never have the pleasure of living.

At least, she gets to live, then my death was well worth it. He thought, before finally falling silent.

“It's been a month.”

Martha pointed out, as she found you sitting on the pouch, staring off in the direction of the graveyard. “You haven't been to his grave since we buried him.” She said, holding a steaming cup of tea out to you, before taking up the spot on the porch swing beside you.

You opened your mouth, but the words jumbled into your throat, like a traffic jam. Shaking your head, you took a sip of the tea and washed the tangled words down, before finally managing to speak. “I don't have the courage or the bravery.” You whispered, biting your bottom lip against a fresh onslaught of tears that threatened you. “I could walk into a war zone, into a pack of rabid protesters and stare down the most decorated and brazen, four star Generals, to get a story.”

“But I have to use the back road to drive onto a farm I'm more familiar with than my laptop, just so I can avoid seeing that graveyard, or I'll end up losing myself.”

Martha pressed her lips together and rested her hand between your shoulder blades. “It took me a week to walk halfway down there, after Jonathan died, and then three days to finish the other half.” She confessed to you, sighing softly. “I thought I was going to cry, like a newborn baby, when I finally made it to his headstone.”

“But, I didn't.”

“What did you do?” You asked, looking at her.

“I was finally able to tell him all the things I wanted to tell him, but couldn't at his wake, since it was all still too raw and new.” She admitted, gently rubbing your back. “If it takes you a month to walk down there, or longer, we both know there are still things you need to tell Clark, so you can heal.” She told you, leaning in to kiss your hair, then stood and went back inside.

You let out an unsteady breath and stared down at your cooling cup, you missed Clark, like you were missing one of your body parts. You had become a shadow of yourself, you had only returned Metropolis for a few days in the month after he died, to grab some of your belongings from the apartment you shared with him. But staying there was too hard, seeing his things around the apartment and sleeping in the bed you had shared with him, and seeing the construction being done to rebuild the parts of the city destroyed by Doomsday, was just too much of a reminder, things were still going on, even when your life had stopped.

So, you took Martha's offer to stay at the farm with her.

It wasn't as hard being in the place where Clark was raised, and buried. You didn't see him as Superman, where in the Metropolis, all you saw were the flying black and silver symbols of Hope and people mourning their superhero and god. On that small Kansas farm, you saw his life, you saw Clark Joseph Kent; the son, reporter and fiance that just happened to be an extraordinary and more unique being than most people on Earth. The Kent Farm was the solid foundation you needed in the wake of his death and you weren't sure you'd be able to set foot off of it again, without your life falling apart. Even though you knew Clark would be upset with you, understanding, but upset that you were allowing your life to spin to a halt.

But Clark had been your world too.

You took a deep, fortifying sip of your tea and stood up, setting the cup on the porch rail and walked down the front steps, the gravel leading up the driveway to the house crunched under your feet. “Oh god, it took your mother a week to make it halfway there, might take me two weeks just to get farther than the porch steps.” You huffed, smirking and shaking your head. “Look at me, talking to you again, like you're here.” You scolded yourself, even though Martha and the therapist Perry made you talk to on the phone told you it was perfectly normal and part of a healing process.

“Hey, Dusty.” You sighed, leaning over to pat the fluffy Border Collie on the head. “Got any encouraging advice for me?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Maybe, if we lined up a bunch of juicy journalist leads along the way, I could just write one article at a time to his grave, hm? Might take a year, but I'll get there!” You laughed, straightening up and sighed again. “I bet if it was me in that grave, Clark would have built a house next to it, so he'd see me every day, and here I am, a month in.”

Squaring your shoulders and putting on your best expression, the one you usually used when one of your leads was being a hard-ass, you put your foot in front of you and did the same with the other and kept focusing on that, one foot in front of the other, in the direction of Clark. While trying to convince your panicking brain, you were just going out there to grab him from visiting his dad's grave, for lunch. You had done it several times before, you could do it again, minus the catch attached to it.

Before you knew it, you were standing at the edge of the graveyard, Dusty was trailing behind you a little ways. Your hands were trembling and sweating at your sides as you looked out over the sea of varying headstones. Even though you hadn't been here since Clark was buried, before they had even closed his grave, you knew exactly where to look. He had been laid to rest beside Jonathan, who you had visited several times. It put a small smile on your face, remembering the first time you had come to the farm with Clark, he had introduced you to his mother, then afterwards, he walked you down here to introduce you to his dad, saying even if he was gone, it didn't feel right not at least having the two of you meet in some capacity.

You had found it sweet, a tad cheesy, but all Clark, with what you would later coin as his Southern Kryptonian charm.

“It only took a day for me to make it this far, Clark.” You said, biting your lip and rubbing your hands on the thigh of your jeans, standing at the edge of gravel and lush, emerald green grass, his grave just in view with the brown granite headstone, just like his father's, you noticed the grass had grown in over him, seamlessly.

Your hands balled up and you moved a few steps closer, before stopping again, breathing hard and shaking a little bit. “Clark.” You mewled, chin quivering as you finally made the last couple of steps. “Clark, I miss you so much. I don't know how I'm supposed to go on without you here.” You sniffled, lowering yourself down, to sit cross legged in the grass, between his and his father's graves.

“Everything is so much duller, now that you're gone. I just don't--” You sighed and looked at the blue sky above you, picturing him hovering in it.

Clark became aware of a murmur that did belong with a sequence of memories he had been inhabiting and swam away from them.

He'd become innately skilled with his conscious surfing, flitting from one memory to another, mostly memories of you, a couple memories from before his dad died. He had been learning how to manipulate them to a degree, so they'd last a little longer. He was currently engrossing himself in reliving the night he proposed to you. He had flown the two of you to the farm, his mom had left the house to the two of you, staying with a friend for the night, to give you space. He had taken you on a walk through the corn field, just before sunset and as you both came out on the other side with a perfect view of the sun melting into the horizon, Clark got down on one knee and revealed the simple diamond and platinum band.

The murmur became more clear, the closer to the surface he got. It was the sound of your voice, calling out to him from somewhere outside his consciousness, that he could somehow still hear you from.

Clark, I miss you so much. Your voice was crystal clear, as if you were standing right next to him.

I'm right here! Clark tried yelling back.

I don't know how I'm supposed to go on without you here. You cried, your voice weakening. Everything is so much duller, now that you're gone. I just don't see the world like I used to. I can't find the point or the center of a story anymore. I keep waiting for Perry to call me, to tell me the Bosses have fired me, since I haven't been into work in the month you've been gone.

A month.

If Clark's nervous system worked, he would have jerked with surprise.

I've been dead for a month! Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry. You can't even hear me.

I'm sorry, it took me so long to come see you, after the funeral. A whole month. But I do talk to you, I feel absolutely insane and like I should hand myself in to the Metropolis Asylum or something. But your mom says, she still talks to your dad, to this day. So, that's comforting. She's the most sane and wonderful woman I've ever met. She's the only real rock I've had, since—you know. You sighed, twisting blades of grass between your fingers. Other than Dusty. You added with a weak chuckle.

At least, you still have Ma, and Dusty. Clark took some consolation in that. I hope she's holding up well. But if you're visiting her regularly, then I'm sure the two of you are being strong for each other. I wish there was a way for me to come back to you both. To go back and try something different. But, at least you and Ma are safe.

I promise to visit you more. I'll come back before bedtime and say good-night to you. You promised, softly. Now, I know I'm actually strong enough to make it down here, without turning into a pathetic mess of a human being. You chuckled, smirking. There's a joke for you, Kryptonian.

Very funny. Clark quipped, before growing somber. Wish you knew I could hear you. That you could hear me too.

I love you, Clark. You cooed, finding a little more strength to place a gentle kiss to the cold stone of his grave marker.

I love you too, babe. I love you too.

You starting to regularly visit Clark's grave began to give him a general sense of time. You always visited him after breakfast in the mornings, telling him about how you slept, describing the dream you had, which usually always involved him in some way.

He learned quickly, you had a recurring nightmare about the day he died, but you had only spoken at length about it once, as if his grave and consciousness were the only things you could unburden yourself of it too. Which wasn't wrong. You hadn't told anyone about the night terror. You were sure Martha had an idea about it, mother's intuition and the several times you'd woken her up screaming Clark's name, but she never pressed you for it.

After that though, you just referred to it as that dream, before moving on again.

After an hour or two, you'd leave his graveside for several hours, to try and get some journalism done with the stories Perry had sent your way via emails and such, he was being extremely understanding and accommodating. But you knew that was going to run out soon enough. You'd either go back down to Clark again around lunch time or for a break. Going on and on about the piece you were trying to write for the Planet. Clark, even in the grave, would out of habit throw in his suggestions on ideas you could use, possible ways you could look for leads or just his loving encouragement, before catching himself.

But you always came down before you went to bed to say good night to him.

“All right, Super-Boy.” You sighed, stopping beside Clark's grave, your feet bare and wearing a pair of Jack Skellington pajama bottoms and Clark's old Smallville High School t-shirt. “It's bedtime. So, I've come to say good-night and don't let earthworms bite.” You chuckled, even with the smallest twinge in your stomach.

Even dead, you still make fun of me. Clark remarked, entertained. If I ever get out of this box, I'll tickle you mercilessly.

“I love you, Clark. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” You said, keeping to your ritual of kissing his headstone and walked back to the house.

With you gone, Clark began filling the time with memories, until he sensed something, that wasn't you. He couldn't put a name on what it was, he knew what you felt like. Even dead, Clark understood your approach and presence, it called out through his consciousness and it had pulled him to you through the world and cosmos, when he was alive. This felt as Alien like he was, strange and strong, and right on top of him.

Beyond that feeling, this presence, he heard nothing else.

The next morning, you were coming down the stairs and heading towards the kitchen, when you stopped dead in your tracks, hearing a familiar voice coming from that direction; one you hadn't heard in three months, since Doomsday and Clark's death. Panic bubbled into your chest as you slowly approached the kitchen door and saw, none other than, Bruce Wayne sitting at the kitchen island with Martha, enjoying a cup of coffee with her.

“Oh, you're awake!” Martha started, spotting you. “This young man,” She smiled, touching Bruce's shoulder. “was a friend of Clark's and wanted to come see how you were doing.” She explained, but saw the look on your face and quickly slipped off her stool and rushed over to you. “Honey, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“You can say that.” You rasped, wide eyes still on Bruce with shock.

“That's my fault.” Bruce said, setting his mug down. “I should have called you first to see if it was all right I came by.”

“You think?” You huffed, eye twitching a little bit, before you looked at Martha. “Do you mind if I speak to him, for a moment?” You asked, keeping the edge out of your voice.

Martha got the hint and nodded, made a polite gesture to Bruce, then went upstairs, to give you both privacy.

“What the hell are you doing here, Bruce!” You barked, starting towards him, anger flaring in your eyes.

“Well, I came to check on you and Martha.” Bruce replied, a tad surprised at your reaction, but didn't move off his seat. “I know you haven't been back to the Daily Planet, or even the Metropolis in the three months Clark's been--”

“Don't you dare.” You hissed him, snapping your fingers and sticking your index finger in his face. “Part of why my fiance is dead is because of you, Bruce Wayne. You were hell bent on making him some monster that wanted to burn the world to the ground. When all Clark wanted to do was be a reporter, plan our wedding and bring Hope to people, when they needed it!” You growled at him, tears beginning to stream down your face. “But instead, you both let Lex Luther manipulate you into fighting. Maybe that's why the word starts with man. I don't know. But you had a hand in taking him away from me.” You seethed, before slapping him across the face, though it hurt you more than it hurt him, it felt good.

“I'll never forgive you for that!” You huffed, finally turning on your heels and storming out of the kitchen.

“Even if I could bring him back!” Bruce called back out to you.

You froze on the steps going upstairs, part of you said to keep going back to Clark's old room, the one you had taken over, that Bruce was just baiting you back into the kitchen to talk. But the part of you that knew Bruce, knew he didn't mince words or promises.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, turning around and heading into the kitchen again. “If you're lying to me, I'll expose your ass as Batman before you can get off this property.” You told him, coldly.

“I'm not.” Bruce said, ambiguously, picking up the coffee pot Martha had set on a pot holder in the middle of the island and poured some into the cup she had clearly set out for when you came down to join them. “Coffee? I know how cranky you are, before your first sip in the mornings.” He smirked, holding it out to you.

“Don't act chummy with me, Wayne. Just talk.” You told him, taking the cup from him and walking out onto the front porch, spotting Bruce's ultra expensive car in the driveway with your car and Martha's truck.

Bruce followed you onto the porch. “We, my team and I, found a way to bring Clark back.” He said, standing beside you.

“Oh, more Kryptonian technology?” You asked, sipping your coffee, trying to scold your hopes from coming up.

“No, it's some form of Alien technology, we're not exactly sure what kind, but...” He paused, looking down at his feet for a second, considering how much he should tell you. “Take a walk with me.” He said, stepping off the porch, before looking back at you.

“It's nothing chummy.” He reassured you, before moving forward.

Sighing, you caught up to him and waited for him to continue.

“One of my team members was in a horrible car crash, nearly died—should have died, his body was maimed, almost beyond recognition.” Bruce began to explain to you, slowly walking towards the graveyard. “His father was a top scientist for the Department of Defense, he used this Alien Technology, a Box, to put his son back together again. I have a theory that with the Kryptonian Ship, where Lex made Doomsday, in the regeneration chamber, and this box, we would be able to revive Clark.” He finished, just as the two of you reached the graveyard.

“Dear God!” You gasped, your cup slipping out of your hand and broke on the gravel at your feet. “What have you done!?” You demanded, seeing the gaping hole where Clark should have been buried. “Bruce!” You yelled, punching him in the arm. “Where—Did you just take Clark's body without asking his mother and I?”

“I did.” He nodded, unapologetic. “We need him—alive.”

You glared up at him, and finally saw it. “No.” You shook your head at him. “You don't need Clark alive. You need Superman alive. You don't give a fuck about Clark, you never have!” You growled, burning with anger.

“You're wrong!” Bruce snapped, jerking slightly towards you, spooking you. “You're wrong.” He said softer, pulling himself together again, not meaning to scare you. “I know going after him was wrong and I regret that decision every single day. I blame myself for his death. I don't need you or anyone else blaming or reminding me of it, I do it already. But, as much as my team and the world needs Superman, they need Clark Kent more. You are right, he gave this world Hope, but he also gave this world more than just Hope.”

“There's something coming, and without him alive, we won't survive it.”

“Then, why are you here and not wherever you need to be, to bring him back?” You asked, sighing heavily.

“Because, we have all the components.” He answered, looking down at you with a soft smirk. “But, we don't have Clark Kent's key.”

“Key? You mean, the Command Key?” You frowned up at him, shaking your head. “We lost that, when we fought Zod.”

“No.” Bruce laughed, resting his hand on your shoulder. “You are Clark's key. I need you to come back to Metropolis with me. We don't know what's going to happen, when we use the Box to revive Clark, but something told me you were the key. So, I need you to be my secret weapon, should anything happen. Besides, if I know anything about Clark Kent, you'll be the first person he'll want to see, when he comes back to the world of the living, and I can't deny the Kryptonian that.”

“When do we leave?” You asked, with no hesitation.

“As soon as you're dressed.” Bruce laughed, looking you over, still in your pajamas. “I'll get you some breakfast on the way there.” He added, heading back to the house with you. “But, don't mention the Clark thing to Martha.” He whispered as you walked up the porch steps.

You shot him a look, that asked, who do you think I am?

“Martha!” You called out, heading upstairs to change.

“Is everything all right?” She called back, coming out of her room.

“Everything's fine.” You reassured her, resting your hand on her arm. “But I need to return to Metropolis with Bruce.” You told her, feeling a small part of you needed to tell her of the possibility, however small or big, about bringing Clark back, she was his mother, she deserved to know, but you also didn't want to get her hopes up either. “I won't be gone long, he has a lead on one of the articles I'm trying to write.”

“The privileges of a Billionaire PlayBoy.” You said, chuckling and rolling your eyes.

Martha studied you for a long moment, before smiling and nodding her head. “All right, you both be safe then!” She said, hugging you tight.

“I promise.” You replied, hugging her back, but had that reporter's tingle that she knew something more was going on, but wasn't saying anything about it. “I'll see you, hopefully tomorrow or the next day.” You promised, letting go of her and heading off to get changed, then met Bruce at his car and sped off to where his jet was parked.

“I really hope this works, Bruce.” You whispered, settling in your seat on the plane. “I miss him. I miss him so much.”

“I do too.” Bruce replied, sitting across from you.

“Just stay here with Alfred, when we're ready for you, he'll bring you to us.” Bruce explained as he sat beside you in the back seat of one of his luxury cars, Alfred at the wheel.

“All right.” You nodded, nervous and impatient.

The flight from Kansas to Metropolis had been shorter than it would have been on a commercial airplane, but it mentally felt longer, thanks to you tossing the idea of Clark potentially coming back to life or not. You had no idea what you would do if it failed. You supposed it wouldn't actually change anything, he'd still be dead, you would just have to somehow explain the fresh dirt on his grave to Martha and anyone that visited it. You also had no idea what you would do if, and when, Clark came back to life. There would be explaining his reappearance to people.

You had thrown this scenario at Bruce during the flight and he had replied simply, witness protection.

You had considered that avenue, Clark had done some digging into the Batman and drew the eye of Lex Luther. So, using the Doomsday attack as the perfect timing to fake Clark's death to cool the heat from those two, even though Bruce was Batman, would make a damn good cover story.

“Would you like to listen to anything on the radio, madam?” Alfred asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“No, thank you, Alfred.” You replied, smiling kindly at him.

He nodded his head back at you, before turning to face forward again and went back to his newspaper. You pulled your phone out and scrolled through your photos, smiling at the pictures of you and Clark, not realizing you had chuckled out loud at a photo of the two of you covered in cake frosting, until noticing Alfred smirking at you through the rear-view mirror.

“Sorry, I was just looking at a photo of Clark and I at my last birthday.” You told him, turning your phone around to show him. “We ended up eating my cake plain, because we got into a frosting fight.”

Alfred chuckled, seeing the photo. “I truly hope Bruce can bring Master Kent back.” He said, softly.

“So, do I.” You sighed, looking back at the photo and running the tip of your finger over the image of Clark's chocolate covered, grinning face. “I'm so terribly lost without him.” You admitted, quietly.

The look on Alfred's face was soft, understanding and sympathetic, but you hadn't noticed, your attention had been drawn outside. You bent your head low to your chest with your eyes out the heavily tinted windshield, almost rolled into the back of your head just to look up at the object hovering in the sky.

“Oh, dear god.” You gasped, jaw hitting your chest. “Clark.” You mewled, voice creaking. “He did it. Bruce actually fucking did it.” You sighed, a smirk pulling across your lips, watching Clark move across the sky, away from the building Bruce had vanished into sometime before, and towards Hero's Park, where Superman's monument once was and now his shrine stood.

“I have to--” You started, grabbing the handle to your door, only to have the lock click shut on you. “Alfred!” You barked, head snapping to him.

“Mr. Wayne said he would call, when it was time for you to join him and Mr. Kent.” Alfred replied, calmly, his index finger still holding down the master lock button on the driver's door. “It's safer this way.”

“Safer? You think Clark would hurt me?” You asked, snorting at him and the notion of it.

“No, I don't, Miss.” He answered, tipping his head forward slightly, offering his silent apology for the apparent slight. “But, we don't know how Master Kent would react to being brought back to life, and until we do know, it's safer for all parties concerned, that he and the team assess the situation first.”

You bit your bottom lip and clenched your jaw, before straightening up in your seat with a sigh. “Fine. Clark would tell me the exact same thing.” You said, impatiently turning your phone in your hands. “In fact he has, many times.”

It wasn't ten minutes later that the sound of sirens filled the city air outside of the car, you weren't entirely surprised by the sound, it was the middle of Metropolis, if there wasn't at least one police siren going off every five minutes, then there was something truly wrong. But as time progressed, there were more and more sirens, and not just sirens, soon there were cop cars speeding by you and Alfred, lights blaring. You became uneasy, seeing them make it to the intersection up ahead and turn left, towards the park.

Soon, Military Humvees joined the cop cars and your unease and anxiety only increased. You couldn't see the Park from where you and Alfred sat in the car, but regardless, you knew things weren't going as planned. Gripping your phone in your left hand, you slowly crept your right hand up the side of your door, carefully eyeing Alfred as he watched all the cop cars, military personnel and civilians crowding into the streets to see what all the commotion was, until your fingers found the lock. Your heart stopped in your chest as you strained to unlock your door, freezing in place as it popped, but Alfred didn't react, his attention firmly focused on what was outside the car and not what was inside it, probably believing both of you were safe and sound.

With the door unlocked, you gripped the door handle and took a quiet, but deep breath, waiting for the perfect moment to pull it open and bolt out. It came a minute later, with the sound of a new police car ripping down the street. You yanked the door open and tore out of it, before Alfred could fully react, yelling out your name through the left open back door. You ignored him as you sprinted down the cracked and weed strewn sidewalk, your sneakers beating the pavement and shocking your legs with the impact, but you kept going, willing yourself faster.

You needed to get to Clark, to find out what was going on and why Bruce was taking so long to call in his secret weapon. You hardly looked both ways, before cutting across the street and around the corner towards Hero's Park. Just turning the corner onto the street the park was on, was a whole other world, there were cars and people everywhere, being pushed behind establishing lines, but you weren't about to let that deter you, you never had before for a story and you sure as hell wouldn't, if it meant getting to Clark. You stopped for a second and looked around, before spotting a small spot in the chain-link fence they put around the fence after the Doomsday fight and went for it, squeezing your body through it.

Getting through the fence, you found a small-scale battlefield. The three pillars that once stood behind Superman's statue had been smashed to bits, even more rubble and debris filled the space, with smashed Metropolis Police cars and a burning Humvee. You saw Diana laying on the ground by one of the shimmering pools, a kid in a red suit splayed out on the steps beside a larger, heavily tattooed man. You finally spotted Clark just past Diana, barefoot and shirtless, only wearing the shredded suit pants he had been buried in. His body was tense, the muscles of his back defined and his hands almost completely curled into fists as he strode intently towards someone just beyond him.

“Bruce.” You mumbled, spotting the Billionaire in his full Bat suit. “Oh, Christ.” You gasped, watching Clark rise up from the ground, just before he reached Bruce, a cold chill of fear rushed down your back, prickling your skin, you took off towards him.

“Stop, don't!” A half metal, half man yelled out, as you dashed by him, but you kept going, your eyes locked on Clark.

“He doesn't know who he is!” Diana tried to warn you.

“Clark!” You screamed out, coming to a halt as he blasted Bruce backwards into a parked police car behind him with his laser vision. “Clark, don't!” You cried, begging him, your heart giving way with relief, when you saw Bruce had managed to block the scorching light with his gauntlet, and was mostly unhurt.

Clark slowly turned towards you in the air, his ordinarily cerulean blue eyes lit up like molten steel made the breath in your throat freeze solid, but he didn't unleash his vision on you, not yet at least. He only cocked his head at you, clearly scanning and studying you.

You gulped thickly, not wanting to show him fear. “Clark, please.” You rasped, biting the inside of your cheek. “This isn't you.” You told him, daring to take a small step closer to him.

“Don't-” Bruce started to call out, but stopped, when Clark jerked a look at him over his shoulder.

“Just shut up, Bruce.” You growled between clenched teeth. “You wanted your secret weapon.” You hissed at him, then focused back on your fiance. “This is not who you are.” You said, steadying your voice and taking another step forward. “You are a good person, and he-” You pointed to Bruce, and took a deep breath. “Is your friend. He's an idiot, but he's still your friend.”

Bruce shot you a look, but didn't say anything.

“So, please, don't kill him or any of them.”

The bright, fiery-orange in Clark's eyes faded, revealing the eyes you had missed and loved so much, bringing a grin to your face and even more tears to your eyes, before he slowly lowered himself back to the ground. You reached out to him, your fingertips touching the warm, but cool skin of his shoulder and sighed softly, it was all real and not some insane dream.

“I know you.” Clark's deep voice rumbled.

You chuckled, sniffling. “I know you too.” You replied, looking up at him. “You are Clark Joseph Kent, the love of my life.” You whispered, feeling the world around you brighten again.

Clark cupped your face in his big hands, tenderly rubbing his thumbs underneath your eyes to wipe away your overflowing tears, before pulling you in tight against his body, wrapping his strong and solid arms around you, then took off into the skies, with a thunderous boom.

“What the hell was that?” Asked the tattooed male, as he helped Bruce up.

“My secret weapon.” Bruce replied, flexing his sore body.

Clark landed the both of you on the edge of the corn field he had proposed to you in.

“Home.” He whispered, looking out over the waist high stalks to the Kent Farm.

“You remember this?” You asked, looking up at him with your hand resting on the small of his back.

“I do.” He nodded, looking down at you and smiling. “It's starting to come back to me. I was really jumbled up back there, but seeing you kick started me again.” He confessed, cupping the side of your neck in his hand and leaning in to kiss you deeply.

You melted against him, wrapping your arms around his waist and returned his kiss, before pressing your forehead to the center of his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. “I missed you very much, Clark.” You mumbled, relaxing.

“I know you did.” He replied, nosing your hair and kissing the top of your head. “I heard you.”

“You what?” You squeaked, tipping your head back to look up at him, confused and caught off guard.

Clark smirked at you, brushing his fingers through your hair, reveling in being able to feel your tresses and skin again. “When you would visit my grave-” He licked his upper lip and cast his eyes in the direction of the cemetery. “I don't know how to explain it or how it worked, but I could hear you. I could still sense you too, when you were close enough to me. Everything you said, while I was—away—I heard it all. I know about your nightmare about my death and Doomsday, that you haven't been back to our apartment since it happened.”

“Clark-” Your mouth worked, but you didn't know what to say.

“It's crazy, I know.” He laughed, shaking his head. “At first, I was alone with myself and the memories I had of my life. It probably has something to do with my being Superman and Kryptonian. But, I want you to know, I heard all of it. You weren't really alone. I would answer you, even if you couldn't hear me. Which reminds me.” He said, dropping his hands to your sides and gave them a tickle, making you laugh and squirm.

“What was that for?!” You giggled, slapping at his hands.

“Making fun of the dead!” Clark chuckled back at you. “Don't let the earthworms bite! Really, babe?”

“We both know, I've always had a good deadpan humor.” You replied, winking at him, before scurrying away, so he couldn't tickle you again. “But I do find that oddly comforting, you being able to hear me.” You said, returning to him, but paused for a moment. “What was it like, being dead?”

Clark took a deep breath and let it out with a soft sigh. “It was--” He shook his head, then leveled his eyes at you. “It doesn't matter, I'm here with you again.” He said, pulling you against him for another kiss. “And, I'm not going back there again, for a very, very long time. I promise.”

“You better keep that promise, Kent, or so help me God!” You proclaimed, lifting a brow at him. “Now that I know you can hear me from the grave, I'll hound you day and night with the most god awful things I can think of and buy!” You threatened, jabbing a finger in his chest.

“If that's the case, I'll make sure to live to at least a hundred.” Clark smirked, closing his hand around yours and brought your fingers to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“That's what I want to hear.” You smiled, pushed up on your toes and rubbed noses with him.

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potsiefaerie · 9 months

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Hi hey welcome!

Call me Lily! I'm a queer nonbinary person in my 30s with a number of chronic illnesses and this is side blog but it's probably the one I use most often. It is run on a queue. You'll find things like:

Queer/LGBTQIA+ discourse and memes

Disability discourse and memes

Neurodivergence discourse and memes

Mental health tips and tricks and positivity

General positivity posts and some cute animals

some USAmerican political bullshit (and memes)

some political shit and awareness posts for other places

Tumblr Heritage Posts and other shitpost hilarity

I try to tag for common triggers but I do not always remember - if you have something specific you would like me to Always tag, send me an ask or a DM and I can add it to my list and I will do my best (ex: mushrooms)

I'm an adult and I don't curate this blog with minors in mind, but besides the gratuitous use of the word "fuck" and the occasional political vent post with an empty death threat, there won't really be anything here that would merit an R rating (except in Florida which doesn't want to admit that queer people Exist). So if you're a minor you're welcome to follow, but I probably won't follow you back.

For everyone I do follow back, it will be under my main blog: @lily-leaves

FAQ & tag explanation beneath the cut

Yes that's my real face in the icon

My pronouns are she/her or they/them or any of the neutral neopronouns.

Current diagnoses are: POTS, chronic migraines, myoclonus, autism, adhd, generalized anxiety disorder, adjustment disorder

If you don't want to see USAmerican bullshit block the tag: "usian bullshit" or block "politics" if you don't want to see any politics (incl international) but would like to still see other cursed americana

No I'm not go to stop using the word queer for myself and the rest of the queer community; if you don't like the word you're not in the community and that's why I have two tags, kthanks.

Other Tags:

Ask Lily: my asks

C'est Moi: selfie tag

Personal: self explanatory

Lore Drop: personal nonsense in the tags or on reblogs

Bun Chronicles: pictures and tales of my rabbits

Snek Chronicles: pictures of my kenyan sand boa

Get Therapized Nerd: me vaguing about being in therapy again

Frens: mutuals and rl friends

Hellsite (affectionate): Tumblr community stuff and heritage posts

Tumblr bullshit: when staff is being awful

Positivity: peep this tag if you need a pick-me-up

Relationships: love in many forms (see also "polyamory" tag)

Indigenous Issues: this stuff rarely gets tagged "usian bullshit" or "politics" because it's bigger than that

#personal #lore drop #c'est moi #ask lily #bun chronicles #snek chronicles #hellsite (affectionate)#relationships #positivity #frens #a chuisle mo chroi #la mia fiamma #rex poeta meus #polyamory #queer

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demonslayedher · 1 year

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So Urokodaki-san's masks, right?

One thing I've been trying to figure out is, what's the "style" of the masks? Do the colors have symbolism associated with them? Do the different types of eyes carry different meanings? How does Urokodaki-san decide on certain patterns or designs to implement? Obviously Urokodaki-san puts a lot of effort into the masks he makes, so what's his thought process? Is it something that only exists in the world of KnY or is it something that has an actual basis in real life (besides haha funni kitsune mask, anyway)?

I've been trying to look up at the very least the color symbolism of the masks, but I've come up almost completely empty -m-

Hey there! Urokodaki's use of fox masks is very directly inspired by real life fox masks associated with Inari shrines throughout Japan, most notably, Fushimi Inari Taisha. While many people do love simply because they are cool--and wearing them either conceals the self, or provides self-discovery in appearing like one hopes to emulate--there is a protective aspect of them, and there is a general rule that if they are displayed as decorative and protective items, they should be placed above human eye level.

While different Inari shrines will tend to have their own local styles of fox masks which vary in painting style and shape, you generally find white foxes as messengers of the harvest god Inari (who personally is not a fox).

The increase in black fox masks, followed by reds and blues, has lead a lot of people to ask what the meaning behind different colors is. The answer I've found from general Shinto culture sites and blogs of fox mask makers is that these other colors don't have any meaning. Or at least, nothing inherent or without a cultural backing to them. I've seen some people suggest that if you really want to ascribe meanings to the colors you could look to Kabuki makeup for inspiration, but there's nothing to box you in to this interpretation.

However, the makers do note that if a maker had a certain meaning in mind while making, then sure! The mask now has that meaning.

That means that whatever Urokodaki had in mind for the colors and symbolism, that is what each fox mask means. In Makomo's case, we see that Urokodaki probably associated her with smiles and flowers, in Sabito's case, a more straightforward stare and a notable scar, Giyuu's case we can think whatever we want, and in Tanjiro's case, Urokodaki seems to have already had some sense of Tanjiro's ties with the sun given his red hair and eyes. I don't think he consciously made an connection with Sun Breath, just with the positive connotations of Tanjiro's red features, and the placement of the sun mark was probably chosen based on the placement of Tanjiro's burn. Whatever the case, as he made them, Urokodaki was probably pouring in all of his good will and prayers, imbibing those objects with as much protection as he could (albeit not a standard religious ritual or anything like that, just a "good vibes" way).

That all being said, with the popularity of fox masks both hand-made traditionally and mast-produced plastic, it's okay just to get them because you think they are cool. In the cases of hand-crafted ones, though, especially when choosing traditional ones made in the unique style and shape of any given Inari shrine, each one will inevitably have slight variations, so if you feel drawn to a certain shape of the mouth or eyes or anything like that, it's fun to choose your mask based on that kind of subjectivity--and again, you can totally wear or display them for spiritual protection, in addition to standard wishes for good harvest or riches!

#kny nerdery

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chanelfunnell · 1 year

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mail

A) anon, yes , Letang is looking and playing ok for so sad news in his life. I am glad for him. Crosby is up for careful polishing as a priceless lazy treasure to move anything else than his ice hockey stick.

B) anon, two days ago my find with Zegras lip synch Taylor Swift hit the roof. Once upon time I mentioned Tazer and Crosby's Cray troll Ashley who trashed me for my opinion and she bullies all wags. No serious sport fan. So 3 Tumblers followed he and blocked me. Fine. Don't steal from my blog certain photos of Tazer usually or Kaner. That's all what they do, gfs of Toews, Kane. I like Blackhawks, Pens, here and there hockey and Matthews and so. I have found more to watch and so what teens swoon from, certainly Hughes brothers and Zegras.. Copycats coping with being carbon. Copies

Trevor Zegras on Snekjin who's just ardent Tazer's fan and so Cray Ashley's chum. Ashley joined my Tumble under different account, about Crosby. You know passive aggressive troll who follows no other way round and thinks that known woman or wags watch her. Snekjin never reblogs never. She steals your photo or an idea.. At least Toews sticks with Toews and spends whale of time making Tazer's gifts.

C) yeah anon, beside empty ruins in Detroit it's a mess in Michigan and all over the country. The biggest US debt so far. More to come with uni loans plans by Biden in similar mode like 0 for house purchases by other Cray liberal Livvie (no real Democrat) Clinton and more real estate bs herehttps://www.reuters.com/markets/us/us-rents-surge-leaving-behind-generation-younger-workers-2022-09-21/

Greedy in all aspects from food costs to any costs incredible to pay 1500 bucks for a shed in rural Idaho or to see once ok townhouse in Washington D c into 8 studio apartments . Don't start with walking zombies in crazy crowds at sidewalks and inept cops in SF or Portland lol. I read that Australia is facing shortage of housing and huge costs but don't be shocked if Kiwi PM is gone bcs she ordered to lock them and pay so huge bills. Wait for scattered Europe.

D) anon, yes my popularity has increased but a lot of bots as followers so far

#jonathan toews #Patrick kane #trevor zegras #Fans #Fan girls #kris letang #pittsburgh penguins #chicago blackhawks #Sidney crosby #Nhl #Ice hockey

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thereaderstea · 3 years

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Hello tor-mon!

I just saw your response and honestly you flatter me too much, you re-read it ten times? This is the highest form of praise!

Secondly, I was wondering what things you personally like to see in the horror/yandere genre? I have been trying to come up with ideas for my next fic and am a little stumped. So, I figured who better to ask than my favorite reviewer in the whole world?

What is a fic you always wanted to read in this genre? AUs you don't see too often? Something you just really want to see! I'd love to hear your thoughts 💜💜💜

Merry meet, deliciae! Of course! Your writing is the perfect material to reread! I reread your fics all the time, and your writing never loses its effect! True beauty!

First, I’m honored 🥺 And second, I’ve got you, deliciae! A lot of these ideas are supernatural/paranormal/magical because that’s my usual realm and I am wholly unoriginal and empty-headed when it comes to the Normal world 😅

Yandere AUs

Among Us au: I believe this is a potent au filled with lots of possibilities, especially with the addition of the Town of Us roles (Imposter Lovers immediately screamed yandere at me). The two possibilities that stuck out to me was 1) the classic yandere is the imposter and mc is a crewmate (and mayhap the crew think the mc is sus 🤭), and 2) the mc is the imposter with a yandere crewmate (i.e. the yandere!crewmate simps for the mc).

Battle Royale au: I remember you mentioning a long while back about starting your blog in part because of chinkbihh’s Quarter Quell but wasn’t sure what else to bring to the table? I have a singular idea and some alternate settings that employ a similar taste of the Hunger Games (because I, too, love chinkbihh’s yandere Hunger Games idea):

Hunger Games: game designer and hunger games survivor. The yandere is on the game’s designing team and the mc is a survivor in the games. The yandere does all they can to ensure the mc’s safety and victory in the games, and well, the mc may escape the games unscathed but they can’t escape the yandere’s clutches.

S.O.S.: This is a game on Steam. You’re on La Cuna island, where you have to fight monsters, avoid becoming infected by the monsters, yoink a crystal on the island before other players do, call in the helicopter, and secure your spot home. There are thirty-two players, only three seats home, and you definitely didn’t sign up for this fight to the death 😅

Dead by Daylight: This is a game on Steam. There’s one killer and four survivors (but who says it has to be those numbers?). The survivors have to fix the generators to open the gates and escape, and the killer is having fun chasing the survivors, messing with them using their special abilities, taking them down, throwing them on hooks, and sacrificing them to the Entity. It’s ten times more terrifying to play with friends, and while I love the teaming up, I love a shameless, no-regrets betrayal between good friends more 🙂 (sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice)

Witch au: I believe there are a few aspects of the witch-y world that could be brewed with yandere, namely:

love potions

curses, hexes: anyone who tries to get between the mc and the yandere is cursed

a case of an accidental summoning of a djinn, demon, or some other being who becomes rather fond (and possessive) of the witch (or vice versa!)

empathy (specifically feeling others’ emotions): this could create some good internal conflict. If the mc is an empath, then what if they feel the yandere’s ‘love’; would the mc also become a yandere?

fortune telling/scrying/clairvoyance or claircognizance/psychometry: you’ve actually hinted at this concept in Solar Eclipse and it’s such an intriguing concept, so here’s another version

dream walking/lucid dreaming/astral projecting: I read a book where the mc dreams of a town and her duty is to protect the town from the djinn. She loses her brother and so when the djinn approaches her in her dreams she makes a deal with a djinn to get him back (sort of like Persephone :D), but she didn’t think it was a real deal until she woke up. The interesting part was that she was chained to the djinn, and the djinn could use those chains to summon her to him, even across dimensions.

Tuatha Dé Danann/Sidhe/Fae au: besides the Unseelie being cool candidates for yanderes (glamour, master manipulators, and typically violent? perfect grounds to make a yandere), there are aspects of Fae folklore that I love and think would be pretty cool in yandere:

names: names hold power and if you tell a Faerie your name (specifically your full, true name), they hold power over you. the Fae are tricky, so it can be easy to literally hand your name over to them.

faerie rings: if you step in a faerie ring, you’re trapped until the Faerie who created the ring comes to collect their trappings. But faerie rings are also rumored to be portals into the Fae realm

selkie: in folklore, men would convince a selkie to marry them and hide their seal skin as a means to trap the selkie with them. if the selkie ever finds her seal skin, she’ll dip on the man and return to the ocean.

Slaugh Sidhe, or the Wild Host/Wild Hunt: the Slaugh Sidhe are hosts of restless, unforgiven dead, sometimes rumored to be Fallen Angels. I believe the Headless Horseman is in the Hunt as well. They roam the Earth on Samhain and hunt during the night; they prey on humans and will steal their souls. You can also inadvertently call the Slaugh to you by saying their name during nightfall or feeling hopeless (they prey on sadness, broken hearts, and the depressed).

each-uisce, or each-uisge: a shapeshifting water-horse; it typically takes the form of a man on land and a horse in water. Though if in the form of a horse on land, a human mounts them, and they smell water, the uisce will drag the human down into the water and eat them

zombie apocalypse au: I haven’t seen too many yanderes in the zombie apocalypse, but it sounds pretty cool (way I see it, the yandere is prepared to keep mc alive and the mc gets to kick some zombie booty! win-win!)

Yandere Situations

Storyteller: this is the perfect place to crack out fairytales! the Storyteller forces the character to live out retellings of fairytales (best if used with people the character knows).

Shapeshifter: the yandere!shapeshifter shifts into a new person every time their relationship with the mc goes wrong. Doesn’t matter how many times it takes, the shapeshifter can become as many people as they have to be to end up with the mc :)

Resurrection: the mc kills the yandere plenty of times, but the yandere resurrects themselves every time. In the time it takes for the yandere to resurrect themselves, the mc runs/escapes, trying to get as far as they can away from the yandere. The yandere is rather amused with the game of cat and mouse; how far will the mc get this time?

Necromancy: the yandere is a necromancer and perhaps didn’t get to save the mc in time (or killed the mc themselves) and so they reanimated the mc. Maybe the mc loses a little bit of their soul with every revival, maybe they don’t, but one thing’s for sure: death isn’t an escape :)

Phasmophobia: this is another game on Steam. you are on a team a paranormal investigators, and you’re trying to document what type of ghost is haunting a location. This time may be your biggest break yet, but your latest ghost is a huge puzzle and also rather keen on keeping you...

Yandere Pairings/Characters

human and angel (bonus if there are clipped wings ☺)

witch and familiar

serial killer and grim reaper

forgotten deity and lone follower

thief and detective

time traveler and immortal

~*~

I hope this helps spark something even if you don’t use any of them, and lmk if I should clarify something or if you need more assistance! I’m happy to help ☺

Blessed be, deliciae! and may writer’s block not plague you!

your lil monster delight, tor-mon 🖤

#asks #deepdarkdelights #deliciae #yandere #letters from deliciae #ik a lot of these may not be conventional yandere stuff #but i see a lot of potential in them #and i hope this helps! ^.^

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friendelius-writes · 6 years

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Through the Window |:| Tom Holland

Mob!Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: As Tom's new neighbor, [Y/N] didn't know that a look through his window costed them lots.

A/N: Low-key a bit creepy, but hey, I would be curious too. (This is my first official fanfic on this blog! Thank you so much for reading~)

Written by @friendelius-writes

Warnings: Guns, swearing, some violence, angst??

NOT MY GIF

It was a tough two months at [Y/N]'s new home as everything was, well, new. They were completely alone in this new, clean, neighborhood for the first time.

For a while, they didn't know what to do as they were used to hot dinners and nagging, but now, they've been stuck with frozen dinners and the sound of loneliness blasted across the house. Wanting to scratch that itch of going home diminished after meeting their next-door neighbor, Tom Holland.

During a cozy, summer morning while [Y/N] was setting their garden, he was the first person to introduce himself to them. The simple interraction made them feel welcomed and known in this unexplored territory. Now and then, if [Y/N] was outside at the same time as him, Tom would simply make small-talk with [Y/N] before being swallowed by his home.

However, something was tugging in [Y/N]'s mind about him. From generic observations, they have never seen anyone going in nor out of that house besides Tom. Most of his windows were crystal clear and displayed furniture in the room, but [Y/N] hasn't caught sight of that brown-haired male. [Y/N] assumed it was because he's busy, but the amount of time [Y/N] spent at home looking through his windows proved otherwise.

He seemed to be invisible for most of the day as [Y/N] seen no sight of him until those rare moments where he leaves his house and starts up his fancy car [Y/N] doesn't know the brand of. They've never seen Tom return, but he's leaving the house again in a few days. All his groceries were delivered to the back of his house and were always gone by morning. A gardener came once a week as well as someone from the cleaning department.

Once, on a warm, summer evening, with the darkening sky speckled with faint white, [Y/N] was slurping a smoothie as they gazed at the blaring television. The AC was blasting, and [Y/N] was snugged into a reclining chair. A commercial for the next big oven invention was dancing off the white walls, and the smooth hum of the microwave warming their T.V. dinner was the added touch.

Once the microwave chimed, a black van slowed right in front of Tom's house. While rising to grab her T.V. dinner, [Y/N] spectated the van through the kitchen window and observed two men dragging along another person towards the front door with another man dressed in a suit following behind. [Y/N] didn't catch a glimpse of the person, but [Y/N] immediately snatched their chicken nugget dinner and sat back down to watch it unfold. This could reveal more about him.

Bashes at the door alerted Tom, so, he swung the door open and, immediately, confusion jumped onto his face as he glanced between the well-dressed men.

"Why the hell are you here?" Tom demanded as he ushered the men inside in case any prying eyes were watching.

Once [Y/N] shut the television off, they maintain focus on the show unfolding before them as they finally see Tom Holland interact with human life. Unfortunately, they couldn't hear a thing, so they resorted in making up their own dialogue in their head, totally oblivious of the truth.

"We're sorry, mate," started one of the men, "but this little pipsqueak," he gestured to the cowering man, "was so fucking adamant about seeing you about his debt."

"You weren't picking up your goddamn phone, Tom," the other man added quickly with a sprinkle of irritation in his voice. Tom's jaw tensed and shoved his hands into his fluffed hair.

"Well, maybe, Sam, I fucking was purposefully ignoring to get a good night's sleep."

"It's, like, eight o'clock! Why are you fucking sleeping when you could be out having fun with the ladies?"

"Well, maybe, Harry, I'm tired," with a faint growl, Tom rubbed his face roughly, "how many times have I told you to not fucking appear at my fucking house when it's about work?! For all I know, someone could fucking be watching right now!" The twins rolled their eyes simultaneously, and Harry shoved the frighten man towards Tom.

"Just deal with him quickly, then," Harry spat. Tom ran his tongue against his bottom teeth, tightening his jaw. With arms wrapped around himself, he sighed of defeat and faced Harrison.

"I assume you have his file, Haz?" Harrison grinned as he whipped out the manila folder.

"Of course! Did you think I'd come empty-handed?" Tom seized the thin folder and opened it to glance at its contents. Once his eyes laid upon the man's history, Tom tutted and leisurely ambled towards the man who instantly found the pattern in the carpet more interesting.

"Oh, Chase Walker, what am I gonna do?" Tom slapped the folder shut and clutched Chase's chin to snap his head upwards.

"You are here because you wanted to see me, but as I clearly see in the database that you were supposed to return that 250 grand you borrowed from me," he released Chases's chin with a thrust and handed the folder back to Harrison, "the task was simple: get me that 250 grand by today." Chase's eyes wavered as he glanced at Tom and clasped his hands together after dropping onto his knees.

"Pl-Please, I beg you. I-I've only got a hun-hundred grand. I need more time! The re-recent tests on my wife are co-costly! Our insurance—"

"I don't care about your fucking problem!" As if on cue, Harrison handed him a piece of paper with scribbles at the bottom. Tom shoved the paper towards Chase's face.

"Do you not remember this? This was the damn contract you signed, indicating when you'll return the money." Chase shattered as his hot cheeks felt wet while feeling like he was being suffocated in a plastic bag, choking on his words.

"B-but I—"

"No 'but's," Tom tossed the contract to the side and eyed the twins, "take him upstairs to my office." The twins complied and hauled Chase up the carpeted steps.

"Where are they going?!" Exclaimed [Y/N] as they noticed they moved to somewhere else. Hurling their dish onto the table, they shot up and waited to see where they'll be by the windows. They caught sight of the five walking along the second floor through the wide window and then disappeared. For quite sometime, [Y/N] didn't notice them until they saw a barely noticeable Tom far from the window. Where Tom was, [Y/N]'s equivalent was standing in front of their bedroom window. Assessing the situation, their eyes widened and their hand rapidly covered their mouth that flung open at what was in Tom's hands.

"N-no! Wh-what are you doing?! Don't shoot me, I beg you," Chase crawled along the floor and gripped Tom's legs, wailing and pleading to let him live, "please! I'll do anything!" But Tom simply ignored him. He let Chase beg; he let Chase scratch his legs; he let Chase suffer knowing he's going to die.

"Harrison, throw me that silencer over there." Harrison tossed a slick, black, cylindrical silencer to Tom, and Tom caught it right before screwing it onto the front of his pistol. With Chase's cries slowing down, knowing it's not going to do anything, Tom kicked him off and aimed right between Chase's eyes. Once Chases's eyes started to water again, Tom pulled back the safety and pulled the trigger.

With a heavy sigh, he turned around and instantly noticed a figure right across at the neighboring house. His face hardened as [Y/N] realized he saw them. With fear bubbling inside them, they ran as far as they could to reach their phone downstairs. Tom swiveled to the men in the room, and pointed to the window.

"We've been spotted. Catch the person nextdoor, and bring them here!" Ordered Tom as the men sprinted out the door with no delay.

[Y/N] snatched their phone and dialled the police while running out the back door, hoping to get to their vehicle quickly.

"What's your emerg—" [Y/N]'s phone cracked against the ground as another tackled them. Harrison stomped onto [Y/N]'s phone as Sam forced them up while keeping a firm arm around their mouth to prevent loud noise.

[Y/N] whirled around in Sam's arms as Sam kept his stance and hauled [Y/N] towards Tom's house as quickly as possible. Inaudible sounds escaped [Y/N]'s mouth as their arms continuously pulled Sam's arm away from their mouth. Clearly, Sam was stronger than [Y/N], but they didn't give up anyway because anything was better than nothing.

[Y/N] was thrown onto the carpeted floor in the blood-splattered room and caught sight of the dead man lying against the chair. [Y/N] felt their stomach turn inside out and gagged at the image. They turned their head around to avoid it.

"Well, [Y/N]. How much did you see?" Tom's sickly soft voice penetrated [Y/N]'s brain that gave warnings that this guy just murdered a man in his own house. They looked up but refused to make eye contact with the murderer.

"Everything," [Y/N] announced with venom soaked in it. Tom threw his head back as a throaty laugh echoed in the soiled room.

"Pity. You've started to grow on me," informed Tom in a faux sweet tone. He took a few steps back and pointed the gun at their head.

"Sweet dreams."

And he pulled the trigger.

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dailydolphinsuitjotaro · 7 years

Note

Some aquariums don't treat dolphins very well whyareyousupportingthem.

“I think it’s unfair to stop supporting ALL aquariums, and zoological parks as a whole just because many seem to be profit-based organisations. But…”

((I’m assuming this is about my first post where I joked that Jotaro was forced into wearing a dolphin suit for free admission forever to his local aquarium but anyway please read the rest of the jumbled mess of a mildly ic opinionated essay under the cut. お願いします!))

“But first, let’s talk about dolphins since you brought them up. The Chinese White Dolphin is a favourite of my blog’s moderator. There’s approximately a 2.5% annual decline in their populations within crucial habitats in the Pearl River estuary. Even under the most ideal conditions, other experts can only agree that the species would be able to survive for another 40 generations. However, it is far far less than ideal. Besides organochlorines, heavy metals and other pollutants in their oceans, coastal development destroying habitats, vessel collision due to increasing marine traffic, underwater noise pollution, and overfishing are other factors rendering propagation in the wild … difficult, to say the least.

This is not a new situation. The Baiji dolphins which inhabited the Yangtze River had suffered similar circumstances and were considered to be functionally extinct in late 2006. It is also considered to be arguably the first dolphin species in history to be driven to extinction.

But back to your question, I am most definitely against any aquariums and zoos that use the animals in their care solely for entertainment and profit, especially if said animals involve species that have high cognitive potential with relationships and social identity being intertwined in how they survive normally in the wild. I also believe that despite the rapid degradation of habitats, I think captivity breeding isn’t the best method for conservation—especially for large marine mammals such as dolphins—as it has its own host of barriers, such as ensuring the starting population is genetically viable, keeping them alive in the long-term, and acquiring sufficient accommodation to house them in the first place. Reintroducing captive borns into the wild is also a difficult task due to likely lacking immunity to wildlife diseases and needing to be reintegrated into wild populations’ social structures. In fact, the few efforts for captive breeding of a similar breed of Pink Dolphins haven’t proved very successful in Singapore’s Sentosa. Capturing a viable starting population is also dangerous as catching methods can gravely injure them.

The most ideal situation for conservation of dolphins and cetaceans would be to first conserve their crucial habitats. So no, I don’t wholeheartedly support dolphinariums or marine mammal parks that insist on sketchy breeding programmes often accompanied by daily 20-minute dolphin performances.

Nevertheless, it is not an ideal world. Unless governments are willing to expand protected zones for these creatures and compromise for sustainable development, more and more may believe captive breeding should unfortunately be considered their last hope.

For example, if I had to grossly simplify the debate on whether the Chinese White Dolphin should be bred in captivity or not then whichever side you support would ultimately be whether one valued the species’ survivability in captivity in terms of their recorded average life spans and infant mortality rates compared to those in the wild over their quality of life, that is, enjoying freedom and a “good life” in animal welfare terms.

I dearly hope that captive breeding will never be considered a necessity for the propagation of these magnificent creatures, but if there comes a time when we do find the Chinese White Dolphin to be functionally extinct in the wild, I will do whatever I can to try to keep the species alive if there are still any in captivity, and hopefully one day reintroduce them back into Hong Kong waters once sufficient protected zones are established.

Regardless, I can’t deny that captive breeding has or is forecasted to have a great positive impact for other species, marine or terrestrial. For example, captive breeding programmes for salmonids have succeeded in maintaining neutral genetic diversity for several generations (albeit with trends in reduced fitness in offspring), which may be sufficient for whatever dangers in their natural habitats to be removed. Conservation efforts in European and American zoos for the breeding of King Penguins have also proved successful, which is quite a breakthrough as climate change in the Southern Ocean is likely to cause drastic wild population declines in the future. And, while not a marine animal, the Arabian Oryx conservation effort is another significant example.

Still, my overall conclusions for captive breeding in aquariums and zoos is to think of them not as the final solution but a possible plan B until the factors contributing to their initial decline can be addressed. (Though there is the issue with ‘rehab’ animals deemed unreleasable by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums but that’s something to discuss for another time).

Anyhow, aquariums also benefit marine conservation beyond breeding programmes such as research into diseases along with the development of vaccinations, rehabilitation (as the second anon mentioned) and overall responsible promotion and education of marine conservation. Also, it’s unrealistic for facilities to “empty their tanks” and dump their captive born into the wild without meticulous plans for safe and proper transition. Good grief, let’s not forget a similar incident in America where tens of thousands of minks were …forcibly released from a farm only for most of them to likely die of starvation and negatively affect the surrounding ecosystem.

Many marine biologists can say their interest was born from visiting aquariums when they were young. Moreover, there are studies that looked into the positive educational impact of zoos and aquariums in the most recent volume of the Journal of Zoo and Aquarium Research, which you may read. Their ability to expose youth to the wonders of marine life is important, though I’d prefer if they weren’t so plentiful and more were NGO non-profit based.

If it helps, I generally judge an aquarium by at least the following criteria:

Prioritize and support human entertainment with dolphin, whale, seal, penguin, etc. shows (especially if they have little emphasis on education)?

Entirely profit-based with very little budget allocation to conservation or research efforts?

Support untrained customers touching and petting captive animals?

No ties to legitimate academic institutions and research projects?

Saying yes to any of the above means it’s likely not that great of an institution, which is, unfortunately, probably most of them. It’s likely your local aquariums do break one of these criteria, but campaigning to shut them down entirely doesn’t have to be the only option, perhaps they can change with enough pressure–unless they are absolutely unforgivable that is.

What I’m saying is that every conservation facility, zoos or aquariums, are unique in their level of ethics and should be considered individually. Responsible zoos and aquariums that prioritise facilitation and promotion of conservation of animals are very much needed in the current era. Elizabeth Kolbert, author of ‘The Sixth Extinction: An Unnatural History’, had suggested we are amidst a sixth mass extinction event and that 20-50% of all flora and fauna on earth will be lost by the end of the 21st century . Unfortunately, this one being different than the others with human activity playing a significant part. While it would be ideal if animals could thrive on their own in the wild or protected areas, that is ultimately not so …easy for most endangered and threatened species, to say the least.

Apologies if this comes across as very vague as this is mostly my own ramblings from the top of my head. Relevant links below if you’re interested:

Study on captive breeding of Salmonids

Study on captive breeding of King Penguins

Study on the effect of the zoo setting on the behavioural diversity of captive Gentoo Penguins and the implications for their educational potential

Study on impact of in-school zoo education programmes

HK Dolphinwatch

I recommend JZAR if you’re interested in zoo biology and related fields. I believe all their articles are open access so do check them out.”

((DISCLAIMER: I’m NOT an expert nor do i have formal education in marine science. I’ve been interested in it since I had the pleasure to see a Chinese White Dolphin during a local dolphin watch tour by the HK Dolphinwatch when I was a wee child a decade ago. There were over 180 dolphins recorded in 2003 but the numbers have since declined to 87 in 2010 and 47 in the last year. Ocean Park, which is basically the only large marine mammal park–and conservation facility on the side–in Hong Kong, has shown interest in breeding them in captivity but ofc there’s a lot of criticism to that, most of which I agree with but god the whole situation is really distressing and idk what we can do because the government sure isn’t gonna do anything like expanding protected zones or enforcing regulation on marine traffic through those zones. In fact, the new zhuhai bridge and other runways they’re using our tax money for is most certainly making the whole situation worse lol god just kill me take me instead of the dolphins i’ve had enough of this world))

#Anonymous #jotaro kujo #jojo's bizarre adventure #daily jojo #daily jjba #suitless joot #DiU joot #((anyone studying marine biology pls feel free to correct me because im dumb and i don't know anything #i hope this clears things up a bit!!#tl;dr i don't support captivity of dolphins and other cetaceans but I still appreciate aquariums and zoos for their potential as research #institutions and rehabilitation facilities and also educating the normal populace about zoo biology #and basically i feel it can be unfair to just paint all of them with the same brush #and i'm sad about chinese white dolphins my dudes :< but i dunno what to do #things suck here man things really do))

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symbianosgames · 7 years

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The following blog post, unless otherwise noted, was written by a member of Gamasutra’s community. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the writer and not Gamasutra or its parent company.

I’ve been writing procedural level generators for a few years now, from the very simple levels in Gunslugs 1, flat ground area’s with platforms scattered above the ground, to the more interesting random mazes in the original Heroes of Loot.

For me the biggest reason to add procedurally generated levels to a game is that it increases the replay value due to the nearly unlimited amounts of game areas it can generate. Besides that the amount of content it generates would be a time consuming process for a single developer to take care of.

For Heroes of Loot 2, which launched in Early Access this week, I wanted to improve on all my previous attempts of a level-generator by not just generating interesting dungeons, but also adding solvable quests and challenges.

I set out to create dungeons that have a main path with a start room and an exit room. The path should have various alternate routes functioning as distraction, alternate exit (warp-zones) or locations to place important items required for quests.

Finally the main path should have hallways blocked by gates which require you to either find a key, solve a puzzle, or defeat a monster in order to progress through the main path.

The dungeon is full of roaming enemies in all shapes and forms. It has a bunch of standard loot, rare items, treasure-chest, magic-chests, and destroyable scenery.

For the quests we sometimes need to place statues, altars, fill a room full of spikes, or place specific items.

So those are the functions that our level generator has to think about and make it all work together in such a way that each level is completable and interesting.

The dungeon generation starts where a human level designer would also start: the first room. From this room the rest of the dungeon grows like branches from a tree, taking into account the previous places, the main path, and the requirements needed for the dungeon and the quests.

I decided to never place enemies in the first room, so that a player can always take a little breather when a new dungeon is being entered. There is some random scenery scattered around the room which, when smashed, can give some health and experience to the player.

Once the first room is placed, the first step we do is pick a random direction from North, East, South or West. This is the direction that our room will branch out to and create a narrow corridor with a random length. The length is always a minimum of 2 tiles, so that there is place to add a door or gate in the corridor.

The creation of the corridor is the first step in our recursive world generator. Once the direction and size of the corridor are decided upon, we also pick a random size and location for the next room based on the corridor’s end point.

With all these values decided upon we first check to see if the required space is still unused, so that we don’t overlap with existing rooms or corridors. IF the space of the corridor OR area's of the new room are used, we recalculate the corridor and room in a new randomly picked direction. We repeat this a couple of times until we either found a non-overlapping space to fit our corridor and room in, or we just give up and end the dungeon creation completely - it’s possible that we simply can’t fit any more rooms into the dungeon’s space.

I avoided overlapping rooms and corridors for this game, because we need a single path from start to finish so that it’s possible to add quests and make sure the player can’t just take another hallway to avoid locked gates/quests.

Besides the main path, we also try to add a random branching paths from each room that go a maximum set amount of rooms deep, this makes the dungeon more interesting to navigate and adds the rooms we need to add quests and hide keys.

With every room we add to this secondary branch, we also record a possible location to hide a key, this will be used in the quest generation code.

The above logic explains the way the shape of our dungeon is created, from a starting room to a corridor with the next room attached, where possible a second corridor with an alternate room is created and we do this until a set amount of rooms is created or we simply can’t place any rooms anymore.

During the process of creating a new corridor we also try and place a quest. This can be anything from simply hiding a key in a previously created room, to adding a mini-boss to slay before the gate opens.

So while placing the corridor, a random spot in that corridor is picked, and then a random quest type out of the available quests is picked. Some quests are fairly simple and only need a single spot in a previous room to hide a key and maybe put a statue on top of it.

Other quests will check the pre-made rooms on alternate paths to see if they fit the requirements. So for example, the mini-boss quests will need a room of a specific minimum size with enough empty space to move around. If such a room is not found, the quest is not generated and the corridor is not locked with a gate.

If the right circumstances are there, the quest is placed: adding a mini-boss, or a key, or a series of objects to a previously generated room on the alternate path, and then we place a gate in the corridor. Optionally we add a little Avatar person in front of the gate to explain the player what has to be done to open the gate, and our dungeon now has a quest.

The standard rooms and corridors are great to walk around in, but there is more we can do with rooms. When placing a room we first hand the room over to our "specialroom" function. This code looks at the newly generated room and based on the size, the location of the corridors, and often a random value, it will decide on using it for a specific purpose.

The most basic of those is using the room as a shop. So if the room is big enough to house an avatar, a couple of tables, and place some items on the tables, the room is then purposed as a shop and will not be available for quests. In the case of the shop we also limit the generation of this "specialroom" to a single shop per dungeon.

Other such "specialrooms" are rooms full of spikes, or a room with a single treasure chest in it, which when opened will spawn a bunch of enemies around you.

During the room-generation step we place the square of the room, but unless you want a very straight room-corridor-room dungeon, you will want to spice up the rooms a bit. So after placing the room, by removing solid tiles from the tilemap and replacing them with empty tiles, we randomly place tiles along the edges of the room, making sure to not block the corridors created to reach the room.

If the room is big enough it’s also possible to add some random solid-area’s within the boundaries of the room. This can turn a single bigger room into a miniature maze with walls and small hallway like areas.

Once these walls are added we populate the room with monsters and loot and maybe some candles to lighten the area for the player.

A large portion of the development time for Heroes of Loot 2 has been put in the level generator. I've been constantly improving it by adding new features and fixing level generation bugs. Which is probably the biggest downside of a level generator. The bigger the generator is, the more things could go wrong. The random nature means that it's nearly impossible for me to have tested all the various combinations of rooms, corridors, quests, and enemies.

I do feel confident about the current state of the game, which I why Heroes of Loot 2 is now available in Early Access release on Steam. It has an unlimited amount of playable dungeons being generated and the best way to know if it still creates mistakes is by sending it out into the wild!

#IFTTT #Blogger

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symbianosgames · 7 years

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Finally the main path should have hallways blocked by gates which require you to either find a key, solve a puzzle, or defeat a monster in order to progress through the main path.

The dungeon is full of roaming enemies in all shapes and forms. It has a bunch of standard loot, rare items, treasure-chest, magic-chests, and destroyable scenery.

For the quests we sometimes need to place statues, altars, fill a room full of spikes, or place specific items.

So those are the functions that our level generator has to think about and make it all work together in such a way that each level is completable and interesting.

With every room we add to this secondary branch, we also record a possible location to hide a key, this will be used in the quest generation code.

Other such "specialrooms" are rooms full of spikes, or a room with a single treasure chest in it, which when opened will spawn a bunch of enemies around you.

Once these walls are added we populate the room with monsters and loot and maybe some candles to lighten the area for the player.

#IFTTT #Blogger

0 notes