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artbyblastweave · 8 months

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I've never made any connections between Worm and the Captain America mythos before. Spill some ink?

Okay, so from a purely aesthetic perspective, the gimme is Miss Militia. She's the most obvious "Captain Patriotic" in the roster, she has the power of GUN, she's the only one who actively buys into the mythology of America specifically. She's a Kurdish woman occupying an aesthetic niche generally held by a rugged squinty white guy. She's an output of the melting pot narrative. She's sort of a rendering of what a grounded superhero who somehow became very aesthetically into America might look like. Not in the craven marketing-driven way of Homelander or Comedian, not in the jingoistic maniac way of USAgent or Peacemaker. She buys it in the broadly left-liberal (USamerican connotation of that term) safe, friendly, reclamative way. Why, what a great rehabilitation of the archetype!

She's also deeply, deeply afraid of rocking the boat. She's got a deepseated childhood trauma related to the bad things that happen when she puts herself in a leadership role. She goes along to get along. When she's proactive, it's usually to point a gun at Tattletale to stop her from upsetting the status quo. She sits through a lot of situations where Steve Rogers, as commonly modeled, would probably plant himself like a tree by the river of truth and go, "Hey, this is fucked up." She more or less capitulates to Undersider domination of the city, in a way that predisposes us to think of her as a voice of reason after all these total nuts that Skitter's been up against- but would Taylor "to relinquish control is a form of ego death" Hebert really be willing to leave someone in charge of the local Protectorate branch who she thought couldn't be corralled? She looks like a beacon, but doesn't- indeed, probably can't- ever truly behave like one. I mean, you can debate the on-the-spot morality of any given one of her judgement calls, that's actually one of the less exhausting Worm Morality Debates to have- but in aggregate, a person in American flag garb who actually meaningfully criticizes the paramilitary organization they're part of is not gonna survive long in that role!

So again, she's the gimme from an aesthetic standpoint. But what I don't really see a lot of discussion of is how Cauldron plays into the riff.

Captain America is institutional, but in a comically morally uncomplicated way. The serum was originally mana from heaven, granted to a living saint, conveniently divorced from any nitty-gritty sausage-making process and even-more conveniently divorced from the horrible consequences of giving the, uh, the U.S government a replicable super soldier process. And in fairness to Captain America, this is 100 percent something the overall mythos eventually patched to my satisfaction; the sausage-making process eventually revealed as prototypical government fuckery driven by human experimentation on black servicemen, the overall Marvel Setting littered with failed attempts by the U.S. Government to recreate that golden goose so they can have their fun new jackboots. (In Ultimate Marvel, this is how almost all contemporary superhumans were created, and this is a state of affairs with a body count in the millions or billions.)

Cauldron draws you in with the same noble rhetoric about greater goods, the same one-off proprietary irreplicable formula- but you don't get the luxury afterwards of representing nothing but the dream. You aren't partnering up with a plucky crank scientist with a heart of gold. You're selling your soul to an organization with an agenda. The narrative makes no bones about the fact that everything you do is fundamentally tainted by the fact you opted into an end product created through torture, kidnapping and human experimentation. You don't get to pull a Kamen Rider by going rogue or opting out or making good use of the fruit of the poisoned tree; you are owned, and everything you do has this Damocles sword hanging over your head- when are the people who bankrolled this going to come to collect?

So that's the question of "who would willingly dress like that" covered, and the question of who creates a serum like that. What about the question of who takes a serum like that? I'd argue that Eidolon is the examination of that. Pre-Cauldron David reads to me like pre-serum Steve Rogers viewed through a significantly bleaker lens. They're both sickly kids desperate to serve, rocketed to the pinnacle of human capability by an experimental procedure. But for Steve Rogers, the crisis was that he had a specific vision of the world and was frustrated by his inability to carry it out. Before the serum he picked fights over what was right and wrong and got his ass handed to him; afterwards he picked those same fights and just started winning instead. The serum neatly solved a problem he had, and to the extent that his mindset is influenced by his pre-serum experiences, it's generally constructive; a desire to protect the weak, help the helpless, an appreciation for people who stand up for what's right even when they're clearly gonna get pancaked for their trouble. So ultimately there's no dark side, downside, or underlying neurosis ascribed to his initial impulse to take that serum.

But with David, it's not a tragic case of the spirit being willing but the flesh being weak. He isn't a preternaturally-noble soul, out to represent the best elements of the American ideal- he kind of represents the inverse, a guy who's been failed at every level while utterly convinced that he's the problem. He's actively suicidal because he's a wheelchair-bound epileptic in an economically-depressed socially-backwards rural town in the 1980s, and he's spent his 18 years of life internalizing the idea that he's worse than useless unless he can somehow find a way provide value to something larger than himself. Doctor Mother finds him in the aftermath of a suicide attempt spurred by his rejection from the army- and he didn't even want to join the army specifically, necessarily, he just needed his situation to be literally anything else, and he took what he thought he could get. And then he finds himself in a position to become a superhero, so he does that, molds himself into that, subordinates himself to that, builds his entire sense of self and values around the value he can provide in that role. No grand design or sacred principles carried over through the metamorphosis. Just relief at finally, finally having something that looks like an answer to the question of what he's supposed to do.

And you know, you know that if Steve Rogers was facing down the barrel of being depowered, he'd smile and nod, he'd Cincinnatus that shit. It's happened before. But for David, the emotional trauma and self-worth issues that caused him to roll the dice on a Steve-Rogers treatment never really went away. When would it? He's been Providing Value as a ten-ton Hammer Against Evil for thirty years. No family, no social life. Certainly, no incentive on his handler's part to lance his Atlas complex. So he barrels towards atrocity in the name of remaining useful. Admittedly, this is where the comparison breaks down in a significant way; Captain America is much more of a symbol than he is an irreplicable powerhouse, so it's not catastrophic if he's taken off the board. Eidolon is so unbelievably powerful that his myopia and self-centeredness actually do align with a real problem everyone else is gonna have if he loses his powers. But in terms of the starting points- I think that Steve Rogers embodies the myth about why you'd want to join the army that badly. Eidolon is, I think, much more closely modelling why you'd actually want to join the army that badly.

#apologies for the delay in responding #worm #wildbow #parahumans #worm meta #eidolon #thoughts #meta #miss militia

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our-happygirl500-fan · 1 year

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In a lot of iterations of TMNT Leonardo always seems to have a strong moral compass & the same possibly seems true for Leo in Rise as well as he often seems mindful of the safety of civilians

Raph: Alright you incredibly, unusually buff book worm! Give us the little guy and you’ll walk out of here with your horns still attached

Leo: Shouldn’t we also stop him from creating crab men?

Leo: I say we revise Raph’s plan to make sure this guy doesn’t get mutated

Leo: Hey April, cool if you don’t, but do you still have that Orb with all the people of New York in it?

Leo has often expressed concern for the wellbeing of strangers throughout the series, when April & the Turtles first encountered Draxum it was Leo who said that they should stop Draxum from mutating people & Leo later actively tries to stop the soon to be Bull Hop from getting mutated in Bug Busters.

In the episode Anatawa Hitorijanai, Leo is also the one that expresses concern over the fate of the people of New York even though the family already has a lot to deal with, with the Shredder.

However in contrast to how Leo is arguably one of the most mindful of the safety of strangers he also seems as though he’s arguably the most unsympathetic towards villains when compared to the rest of his family

Mikey: We haven’t found the armour and we can’t leave him to get eaten

Leo: Oh great, we get to save the guy who once repoed a birthday cake

April: We’ve gotta help him get his friend/ roomie/ it’s complicated back from Baron Draxum! It’s my Birthday Wish!

Leo: You’re invoking B-Day right on him!

Donnie: Ah a moral quandary, do we give the antidote to the villain or-

Leo: Poison? Antidote? Everything he makes is delicious!

While Leo is often concerned with the safety of strangers whenever one of the Turtle’s villains are in need of help, Leo typically seems as though he’s the one most opposed to the idea of helping one of their enemies which can be seen when Leo was reluctant to save Repo in the episode One Man’s Junk or when he expressed disbelief over April wanting to help Warren save Hypno in the episode Warren and Hypno, Sitting in a Tree.

In the episode Pizza Puffs Leo also demonstrated his reluctance to help villains when he decided to use the remaining antidote to eat more pizza puffs over giving the last of the antidote to Meat Sweats

At first glance it would seem as though Leo has some sort of ‘black & white’ view on morality where he prioritises the safety of ‘innocent people’ but is unsympathetic towards enemies or evil doers however it’s shown that Leo is not always against helping former enemies.

Leo: You can’t just kick out your untrustworthy criminal brother, he’s family. So whaddya need skin man?

In the episode The Hidden City Job Leo is the one that pushes Señor Hueso to help Capitán Piel even though the last time they saw each other, Leo was actively fighting Piel’s pirate crew, Leo wanting to help Piel seems to go against the idea that Leo is unsympathetic towards enemies which leads to the question on what makes the situation with Piel different than the other situations where one of the Turtles enemies have needed help?

Leo: Wait! I know a brother squabble when I see one and there’s no one better to un-squabble you than moi

Señor Hueso: Aren’t you here because you had a fight with your brother?

The first reason that Leo might be more sympathetic to Piel than he is with other villains is because Piel needed help mending his relationship with his brother Señor Hueso.

It’s been shown time & time that family is incredibly important to Leo so it could be possible that Leo simply cannot stand the idea of family fighting which made him more inclined to help Piel, it’s also worth noting that during the episode The Hidden City Job, Leo had recently gotten into an argument with Donnie, so Leo might be projecting his argument with his own brother onto Piel & Hueso.

Leo: I freed you from your pirate prison. Your welcome.

Raph: Pirate prison?

Mikey: You portalled us to Tahiti!

The second reason on why Leo might have been more sympathetic towards helping Piel than he is with other villains is that Piel had never actively tried to harm Leo’s brothers.

In the episode Portal Jacked the reason Leo was fighting Capitán Piel’s crew in the first place was that Leo had thought that the pirates had kidnapped his brothers which turned out not to be the case as instead Raph, Donnie & Mikey had been in Tahiti during the events of the episode meaning it’s possible that Leo doesn’t hold the same animosity towards Piel that he would with other villains as Piel hasn’t gone out of his way to bring harm to Leo’s family the way other villains have

So rather than Leo having some sort of ‘black & white’ view on morality where he prioritises the safety of ‘innocent people’ but is unsympathetic towards enemies or evil doers it’s more likely that Leo has the mindset where he wants to protect people but is unsympathetic towards those that have tried to harm his family.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo hamato #rottmnt #tmnt

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0hmanit · 3 months

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One of my favorite types of Rain World rooms are rooms that supposedly have additional cameras/room connections, but they don't.

What do I mean by this? here is an example:

LF_J01 is one of the rooms that bugged me the most, especially when when I notice it during my countless rain deer rides. It's eye catching and makes you wonder if you can bring a grappling worm all the way from the Underhang just to test your dumb theory, only to realize it's not true and be so disappointed.

Fun fact, Rain World Drought is perfectly using this room's potential: by using it as a connection between your starting region and Farm Arrays.

The tutorial room also gets it's own secret, where eventually you find out about it at the start of the Spearmaster campaign. Downpour in fact have a lot of these, and it's one of my favorite additions in this DLC.

Not a secret, just a whole huge region connected through this singular room connection.

Unfortunately SI_C09 didn't receive any additional room connections from the DLC. I remember the first and only time this room tricked me like the fool that I am, into thinking there is a continuation, and got me to jump cluelessly to the left and fall to my death. I guess it's had to do with how open seems this part of Sky Islands look. Gameplay wise I can understand why it stops there, from that point you guided to go up into the heart of the region. And expanding the room from that point, kind of adds too much to the region and makes it more chaotic and confusing to navigate than it needs to be.

Last but not least, this room always seemed odd to me.

Considering that you climb up towers many times in Rain World, it's not very visually appealing when you can't climb up to a place that looks like it has an upper part.

But in all of the presented rooms, you can quite understand why continuing on the region from there would be weird. You have to create a weird fork in the map that distract the player from actually progressing through the game's entire map. And often it makes them get lost and frustrated. this is one of the common causes that makes new players lose their interest in Rain World.

Although you could also go against that point by claiming that Rain World's core gameplay is exploring and getting lost in the world, or at least is what makes the game so appealing. And expanding the region would help increase that feeling of being lost in a complex simulated ecosystem.

I can still understand that for vanilla Rain World, this game is not for everyone. but I mean if you chose to play Downpour as your first experience, that is kind of your problem. Because the whole point of the DLC is to expand significantly the map of the known world.

uh, um. I think got a little bit carried away, lol. This post is still about silly rooms, but I feel like I can't really talk about cool rooms and regions without talking about their important role in the core gameplay.

#rain world #text #LF_J01 is a special case because you're in the endgame #and probably raiding the rain deer #so creating an alternative path/bonus room is weird #I'm a map freak you can tell #tonight my dear.. I'll treat you with some ROOM ANALYSIS

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ninten-draw · 10 months

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The Tundra Era

In the beginning of the world, there was nothing but cold tundra. Unlike most planets who have a warm magma filled core, the planet of rainworld has a cold void fluid core, with the only natural heat coming from the sun. The world is a freezing tundra with almost nightly blizzards, but not without life, as some creatures have adapted to its freezing ways.

The Ancients Era

Soon, an intelligent species forms form the barren wastelands, known simply as the ancients. The ancients in their form resembled closely to aquatic fishes and insects of our world. They too adapted to their frozen environment, living in caves and underwater homes at first, and then building their own homes and citadels. At this time, they were unaware of their eternal life.

The Karmic Era

The great problem has now been made aware to the ancients, and thus the karmic religion is born. At this time only the first five karma symbols are made known to the ancients, and they do everything in their power to rid themselves of these urges, with very limiting success. It’s around this time that the ancients don their signature masks and adorned clothing as well.

Void Fluid Discovery

While drilling and constructing a train system, the ancients come across stranger structures, indicating a civilization before them. Engineers are soon replaced with paleontologists to dig and study these stranger remnants. As they continue to dig, some start having strange dreams and hallucinations of moving stars, strange worms, an empty void, until they come across the depths, and subsequently the void fluid is discovered

Void Fluid Revolution

With the introduction of the void fluid, ancient society flourishes, now they have a proper way to die. Time is spent expanding the depths, building statues and making sacrifices to the void. Their technology also expands exponentially, now able to make large factories and farms to provide for themselves. The next several karma symbols are also made known to the ancients. However echos are soon discovered in the world, fearful that the void may not have been the perfect solution they were looking for, the ancients seek another solution. This leads to the creation of the iterator, whose purpose is to find a solution to the great problem without the void. During this time, a new boom in the ancients is found, more iterators are made because of their many uses. During this time purposed creatures are brought to life to assist the ancients and iterators. It is also known during this time, that the ancients created the shelters and pathways, a place for creatures to rest in and navigate across the world that had become habituated with urban development. The world is now warmer, with the memories of a cold tundra seeming more like a dream than anything. However despite all the good times, the void is not stupid, and it certainly is displeased that the ancients who once worshipped it were now seeking another solution

The Mass Ascension Event

The great ascension was an interesting, and frightening time. Iterators noticed how more and more ancients were going to ascend, and noted how their reasonings were barely understandable. Other ancients noted how the ones going to ascend seemed almost robotic. The more frightening thing, ancients who previously had no desire in ascension, would find themselves seeking, almost yearning it, the next cycle. More and more ancients were going to ascend, and less were born. The remaining ancients during the last few years of their kind were terrified, it seemed as though every one of their kind was infected with an invisible ailment forcing them to ascend, wether they were ready or not. Some stuck by the iterators begging them to prevent them from leaving to ascend. Others traveled outside of the iterators can, to the corners of the world away from any depths entrances. Any efforts were for naught however, as the remaining ancients went to ascend as well, leaving none behind.

Post Ancient Era

Many years passed after the ancients disappeared, and the world had adapted to the structures that they had left behind. The animals were now used to the unnatural shelters and pathways that the ancients had originally constructed for them, and the iterators who were once tasked with finding a solution to the great problem now mostly did their own thing, including helping lesser creatures on their way to ascension. The slugcat campaigns also take place in this era.

Shelter Destruction

Not everything lasts forever, and this includes the ancients’ constructions. The iterators collapse due to entropy, the world losing its main heat source and being plunged into an icey torrent of blizzards. The shelters that the ancients once made to shield creatures from precipitation, also fell from the constant blizzards and entropy, leaving the creatures who once depended on them alone to brave the elements. A mass extinction follows these events, causing creature, both inorganic and natural, to die out or seek ascension to escape their miserable circumstance.

Everything Must Go

Soon, the void itself releases from its previous underground home, to pull the remaining memories and remnants of this civilization down to the depths and rubicon.

The Tundra Era again

Thus, with the remainder of the ancients gone, the world is left an endless tundra once more, but soon life will start to evolve to this cold wasteland, and soon, an intelligent species of aquatic descent will walk upon the ground, and perhaps, like the civilization before them, seek a way out of this world

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glass--beach · 3 months

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hi !!!! :3 so, pd seems, in my reading like its a decent part about the kinda mass surveillance and commodification of personhood shit the world has got going on rn, in a kinda (yes, its cliche, but the radiohead influence makes it a bit more palatable) modern ok computer-esque way. anyways, i wanted to ask u, what motivated u to write about these subjects especially ??

i am transgender and so so scared

near every single person in the world carries a camera on them at all times with the capability of broadcasting its view to all of the internet. we have a culture of emotional armor and swords built to slip between its plates, to be angry or afraid or upset or even the wrong kind of happy is cringe. those who believe in some shadow government in some hidden room somewhere spying on us at all times are delusional - this is wrong - where labor can be outsourced for cheaper it will be. taxis are expensive to run, making people drive their own cars and find customers on an app for measly pay is much more cost effective. giving a music writer a salary is too pricey compared to hiring freelancers on a per article basis. and now surveillance has been, like so many other things, outsourced to civilians and their cameras and smartphone apps. a man sitting oddly on a couch is cheating on his girlfriend, a fold in a woman’s clothing is a hidden penis, we are the panopticon and the prisoner… this is the “society of control” - freedom as tyranny.

the nature of reality is at stake in our culture - “what is a woman?” “a woman” - those who refuse to understand transgender people are helplessly tied to some “deep reality” - “i know what you are!!” - which is ultimately an enforcement of the status quo socially constructed reality. transgender people recognize reality as something socially constructed and seek to bend it to their liking… pronouns and chosen names are after all meant for others to use rather than ourselves, they are third person terms, gender never worms its way into the terms “I” and “We”. our personhood is defined by other people, and can be invalidated or revoked by others… the insecurity created by this tension is ripe for advertising. take this boner pill, it will make you more of a man. take this injection, it will make you a woman. we are defined by our outside, our house, our car, our clothes, our skin, our bodies.

this is where the “family nexus” concept comes in - groups of people create their own pockets of reality. to christians, god is real and to deny this is insanity. to hardcore atheists, believing in god is insanity. to many psychiatrists years ago and some still today, to believe to be a different gender is insanity… and the insane deserve less rights than the sane, they don’t even know what is best for themselves. queer people seek to create a new sane. or rather to go “insane” in our own way the same way anyone who believes in anything does. create our own nexus where our experience of reality is simply true.

hope that helps at all and makes any amount of sense

oh yeah ok computer… maybe i’ll go off about that another time… much of the themes and sound of that record were a jumping off point for us. written in the 1990s, the end of history, time has marched on and yet we are still here stuck in capitalist reality. “did you lie to us tony” as if labour could ever do something about the fact that post 1991 “there is no alternative”… deeply tragic record but love runs through all of it undeniably… maybe i’ll go off about that in another post…

#asks #go read mark fisher if youre normal and deleuze if youre crazy btw

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so-mordor-itis · 11 months

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I SAW THE PROMPT LIST AND

“can’t sleep?” + “promise me you’re still gonna be here when I wake up.”

for our boy leon..

- yes to heaven anon 🤍

Man I thought of an idea and I definitely couldn't get it out of my head so I hope you enjoy this <3

Reader and Leon are from Eye on You

I changed up the prompt a little bit I hope that's okay!

"Hush, love, close your eyes and in sleep abide"

1998

Cold air blew across your shoulders the moment you entered the hospital room. Heavy bleach and the smell of utensils wafted through you, making your shoulders sag. It was hard not to be nervous in a room where the most urgent news was carried, where the bloodied and sickly were told how their life might end. You fiddled with the helm of your sleeve when you saw Leon under the thin, blue sheets of a bed, the sky blue of a hospital gown underneath bandages scattering from his shoulder to his chest.

You immediately hated the image of it.

His eyes were closed, and you had hoped he was getting the rest he needed.

Visitors besides family weren't allowed past 8, but you fibbled a little, stating you were his lover and definitely considered family. It wasn't a full lie since he did ask you out, but you knew he would ask questions when he was more aware of what you did. You'd walk across that bridge when you'd get there.

You sat in a chair beside his bed. It groaned as you did. You sighed a little of relief when it didn't disturb his slumber. Part of you wanted to take in the peace before the storm, before he opened up the can of worms and told you what exactly happened to him. A deep pit formed in your stomach at the possibilities. The wound on his shoulder wasn't ordinary. You weren't stupid.

Regardless of what would happen next, you'd be there for him.

You bit your lip to prevent yourself from laughing at your boldness. Since when had you grown so attached to him?

You shook your thoughts away. None of that mattered. You strapped yourself in this ride, and you would see it through.

You scooted your chair closer to brush some stray bangs from his face. Your heart nearly gave out when he shuffled closer.

Yep, you were strapped in for good.

2005

You didn't really dream anymore. Visions of fantasies created from your own consciousness were replaced with memories. Most were pleasant; your high school graduation, when you first met Leon--before the mess with Raccoon City. That one wasn't as often as it used to be. Perhaps now because you found tranquility with everything. How he went from this springy, happy-go-lucky man to someone who was more guarded but still had that young man deep down. Leon just only showed him to those he trusted. You probably were allowed to gaze at that young man more than others.

Your eyes fluttered open with disagreeable ease, a stinging sensation crowded around them once the realization you were awake kicked in. You moved your legs a little in an attempt to find comfort, but a small barrier from behind made it difficult. You couldn't help the smile forming on your lips.

Protective arms wrapped around your form, creating a cage. One leg was propped against your own, the other beneath. Over the years, Leon made it a habit of being as close as he could get, and while you didn't mind this, he sometimes didn't realize how much of a human space heater he was. You always felt safe despite that.

You wanted to stay in this position to feel his gentle breathing and let it lull you back to sleep as if it were a lullaby, but the urge to remove yourself and stretch your legs became more palpable.

However, you knew what would happen the moment you detached yourself from his cage. Leon would immediately know--an alarm would sound in his brain, and he'd wake up to empty arms and immediately search for you like a lost puppy. You'd then feel guilty for waking him. This song and dance had been done more than once.

Your mind and body fought for a second, but ultimately, your body won the argument. You shuffled your way out of his arms and sat up, your vision still adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom. An image from the recent memory that woke you flashed in your mind, and you frowned.

Not what you wanted to see.

You crossed the threshold to access the kitchen. The clock on the stove glared 4:35 at you. You grabbed a plastic cup from a cupboard and filled it as quietly as you could. You took a sip as you tossed a glance toward the archway that led to the living room.

After nearly 7 years together, you knew his mind and his thought process. You had your own Leon clock planted inside your head, and it made you wonder if he had one for you in his own.

Any minute now. You thought, guilted poked at your chest. You truly hated waking him up. While it gave you ingress to his sleepy voice and pillow-made messy hair, he desperately deserved rest.

You took another sip and frowned again. Of all memories that could've popped up, why that one? The one of him in a hospital bed, bloodied arm wrapped in a guaze, pale face from all the medications he was pumped with. It wasn't your favorite memory for good reason.

As if right on cue, you heard shuffling and a yawn. "Baby?" Leon called, his voice still loopy. Nearly 30, and he still sounded so young when he was filled with sleep.

"In here," you uttered, your own voice hoarse. "Just getting water."

More shuffling, and finally, he emerged from the darkness of the hallway. He dirty blond hair was askew, and he blinked as his own eyes were adjusting to the dim lighting of night. You showed him a simper. "I woke you up again, sorry." His vulnerability still made you feel silly butterflies.

Leon just shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Couldn't sleep?"

You shrugged. "Just needed water. I didn't have a nightmare, if that's what you're asking."

"Just making sure you're okay."

"I thought that was my job." You teased. He returned your grin with a small smile of his own.

"If you're not in need of comfort, then it's back to bed for you."

"What, am I in trouble?"

"Big time. I could be cuddling you right now, but no." Leon had approached you to tilt your head to him so he could kiss it.

"Hmm, maybe I'll stay up longer."

"Nope, not an option."

"Huh -" You placed the cup in the sink, paying him no mind, before he picked you up like a sack of potatoes, lifting you by your legs so you hung over his shoulder with ease. "Leon!" You didn't fight back, only smacked his arm lightly.

He didn't say anything as he playfully put you back on your side of the bed. Leon pulled you closer to him, mimicking the same position you were in previously, only this time he was facing you now. "That's better."

"What are you a teenager?"

"At heart."

You slumped in defeat, and he felt it. He chuckled as you snuggled into his chest. "Carrying me was unnecessary." You grumbled.

You wouldn't tell him about the memory. You didn't need to. It was a part of your past, a piece of a puzzle that began the shape of your life, but it shouldn't be brought up. Not anymore, at least.

You were with him now. He wasn't bloodied and bruised. His shoulder didn't carry a bullet.

Leon was alive.

That's all that mattered.

And you would be there when he woke up, just as he would for you.

|Tags:|

@seraphiism , @uhlunaro , @unhealthy-leon-brainrot , @mandalhoerian , @honeyfict , @konigbabe , @inaflashimagine , @boundinparchment , @justanother-fic , @izuniias , @leonskillshot ,

#resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil imagines #resident evil #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon x you #my writing #yes to heaven anon

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sempersirens · 6 months

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my love, mine all mine

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

content/warnings: 18+ mdni. no outbreak!au. hurt/comfort. infertility. hospitals. alcohol.

author's note: hello my lovelies. i am so happy to be back posting - i missed you all a great deal. please forgive that this is a bit of a self-indulgent personal one, and i just want to take the time to say that womanhood is not intrinsically linked to the ability to have a child. we are so much more than that.

You'd always hated hospitals. Hated waiting. Hated the sterility lingering in the air. Everything was so unsettlingly white. The fluorescent lighting should expose at least a speck of dust somewhere, on some forgotten surface. But somehow, it never did.

The names called forth never seemed to be yours. Joel would've been in agony if he were here. Confined to the little plastic chair, time rolling on, on, on with no end in sight. You were almost thankful he had to be on-site today, leaving you to fend off the passing of time alone.

But you'd grown tired of being strong.

Strong for yourself, strong for you both. You craved the warmth of his rough palm, desperate to intertwine your fingers in his and replace the fluorescence with the nothingness of your eyelids.

You wanted to take. Take, take, take. Take every ounce of strength he could give you. But he wasn't here, and that had to be okay because Joel was hurting too.

You'd been lucky enough to have never known grief. Never felt its empty sting in the middle of the day, in the queue for lunch or on the drive home from work. But can you grieve something your fingers never touched? Something that had only ever been a far-off thought, that had maybe never even existed inside of you.

Was it a reflection on you?

On your capability as a mother, a woman?

Had nature deemed you unworthy since birth?

Were the worms and the flies laughing at you each time you'd uttered the words when I have children one day?

After the seemingly psychological torture of waiting, the appointment was over in minutes. It's not the news we were hoping for. The doctor had said. If you and your partner need support going forward...

The brochures she had slid across the table fell to your feet as you mindlessly drove yourself home, relying solely on muscle memory to bring you to the embrace of your front door.

There were no tears left. Everything inside of you was empty; barren. You threw your keys into the dish and softly closed the door behind you. The stillness of the house was suffocating.

Your shoulders dropped and muscles relaxed at the sight of the photograph of you, Sarah, and Ellie hanging on the wall opposite the front door. Sarah had lovingly adorned the picture with the words Joel's girls glued on in cut-out letters from your old Vogue magazines.

You loved Sarah and Ellie as your own; it would've killed you should Joel think otherwise. They were as much your baby girls as they were his, despite having not been babies for the better part of five years.

But you saw the depravity in Joel's eyes each time he edged further inside of you. The need, the want, for a creation of your own. And there was something almost feral inside of you, too. A part of you that only Joel had managed to tease out and bring into the ugly light of day. You wanted to watch yourself swell and grow with the proof of his love. You craved the shrill of a new beginning illuminated under fluorescent lights that you would gratefully embrace if it meant you could fall in love at first sight with a life you had created with Joel.

Even though Joel could hardly bend down to tie his shoes without hissing through his teeth these days, you knew none of that would matter if it was a product of your adoration for one another he was one day scooping up in his arms.

Although the two of you had been trying your hand at a sober October, you haphazardly fished around the kitchen drawer for a corkscrew, plunging it into a cheap bottle of red.

As you took your first sip, the sound of a key turning in the door made your stomach flip.

"Sweetheart?"

"In here." You called, tapping your nails on the body of the glass.

He filled the doorframe effortlessly. After all this time, he still managed to give you butterflies, leaving you squirming against the counter like you hadn't been victim of those brown eyes for almost a decade.

"Take it we're not celebrating?" He said, nodding toward the glass in your hand.

"Define celebrating. At least I won't need a fucking IUD anymore." You tipped your glass in the air and took a gulp. "An inhospitable environment."

"What's that?" His eyebrows furrowed together as he made his way closer to you.

"That's what the leaflet the doctor gave me says. I've got all the right pieces, my body just won't fucking do the one thing it's meant to do."

"Don't say that, sweetheart. You know it ain't like that..."

"Well, what is it like, Joel? What's left of me to love? How can you look at me and be satisfied that I'm the one you love? Everything about me is so fucking difficult. I want to be perfect for you. I want to give you everything you deserve, and it kills me that I can't. Because you've given me more than I deserve."

And then all at once, the tears came. He caught you in his arms before you buckled under the weight of your pain, holding you upright as you soaked his work t-shirt with your sobs. He smelt of asphalt and fresh October air.

"That what you really think?" He asked, murmuring into your hair while his fingers traced circles on your back. "Think you're difficult to love? Loving you has been the easiest damn decision I ever made."

"Then why weren't you there today? I needed you."

Smoothing down your hair, he pulled himself back so that you were facing one another. His eyes were red and glassy.

"I'm a coward, sweetheart." You scrunched your face in response, watching as a sad smile spread across his face. "I ain't as strong as you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You couldn't help the bite in your tone.

"Was scared to hear the truth. Would've felt so final comin' from the doctor."

Blood rushed to your head.

"So what, because my womb's the issue you let me go alone? Is this my penance or something?" You scoffed, pushing him away from you.

Joel called your name as you stormed up the stairs, wiping away your tears with your sleeve.

"You have children, Joel. There will be biological remnants of you living on in this world after you're worm food. I love those girls, and in every possible way, they are mine as much as they are yours. But I'm never going to have what you do; the privilege of looking into someone's eyes and seeing everyone who came before me. So don't give me that self-pitying bullshit disguised as admiration for my bravery." You sniffed, wanting to sound stronger but crumbling with each word.

Turning to lock yourself in the bathroom, his large hand wrapped around your arm. An old man may he be, Joel always managed to chase you down in moments you wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

Any attempt to shrug him off was pointless, and the warmth of his skin that you had craved all day radiating through your sleeve could've melted you there and then. You knew you were both scared and showing it in stupid, different ways, but you were adamant on holding your own for just a while longer.

"We're gonna get through this, baby. I ain't got the answers right now, and you know I sure as hell don't know what to say at the best of times. All I know is that I love you, and I'm so sorry for letting my fear get the better of me."

Your head found refuge in the crook of his shoulder once more, and you let the warmth of his body engulf you.

Truly, there was nothing he could say. You weren't even sure what you needed him to say.

That night, you could feel the fear dancing with grief between your bodies as you held one another in the dark. Joel may have been a father before, but neither of you had experienced this. And you knew it would be okay.

As long as you could feel his arm draped across your chest in the darkness of the night, you knew it would be okay.

#my fic #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #dee writes #tlou hbo #tlou #the last of us hbo #breakfastatjoels

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heyitschartic · 4 months

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I've seen a lot of people complain on tumblr about how Worm fanfic is nothing but altpower Taylors. It's not a complaint without merit, I've been hearing it since 2017. Hell, it's something I complain about a lot too. It's true, the fandom is filled with crappy altpowers that really add nothing. But to an extent, I always feel I should push back a little against it.

Even if I do advocate for just writing your own thing, there's a really good reason so few people do. There are a good amount of Worm fanfics out there that use original characters, niche characters, or do a wild take on the premise. Not a ton, not the majority, but a good amount.

But nobody reads them.

Rank is probably one of the best stories in the fandom. Long, filled with original charscter's, and with an interesting focus on a PRT officer working in San Fransisco. It's got an amazing scope, working from when Leviathan attacked Kyushu all the way to Gold Morning and has so many brilliant setpieces and bits of world building. It's earned its spot as one of the best, if not the best, story in the fandom.

It pulled in a paltry amount of comments and likes over the years it was being posted.

I remember when I first entered the fandom, there were already people warning new writers that, while it would be cooler if you wrote about someone other than Taylor, that you'd be getting a fraction of the views. And it sucks yeah, but it's the truth. I've seen a lot of writers over the years get discouraged because stories they love and put a lot of time into just get ten likes and maybe one comment an update. A good friend of mine will only pre-write her OC stories because the absolute lack of interest is so disheartening its caused her to just give up in the past.

And it's not like people who critique Worm Fanfics for being filled with shitty altpowers even really read this stuff. Say what you will about the Cauldron discord, but it's one of the few places I've seen people push HARD for others to read this niche weird stories, and even then there's pusback or luke warm reception. It's sad to see people talk shit about altpowers, but just not really check anything else out but that in the first place. It's just as bad as if you were only reading them.

Check out stories trying something original! Luz Mala, Rank, Agent of Cauldron, City of Bones and Teeth, Diary of a Professional Knock-off, Fault, Lend Me Your Ears, Mouse Trap, Sunspot, Nightcrawler, Raccoon Knight; and those are just the ones I can name off the top of my head! There are a lot out there waiting for you to find!!!!

And how to fix it? Well, I'm not sure if there is a fix. If anything is going to work though, at least be the change. If you aren't someone whose actively reading and commenting on new fics about OC's or similar, well, what incentive is there for people to write them? Sure, a love of just creating something might push you to post, but if you feels like you're just shouting into a void, it might feel better to just not shout at all.

If you want people to write good stories, give them a reason to actually do it.

#wormblr #worm fanfiction

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ice-cream-writes-stuff · 1 year

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Don't Hug Me Neighbor

[Episode 1]

《You and your friends find yourselves in a new Home.》

《Warnings: the subject matter this ARG has are potentially disturbing. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Welcome Home was created by Clown @ partycoffin. DHMIS also obtains potentially disturbing content, be mindful.》

The four of ya'll walk outside gazing at the upcoming houses and buildings in the distance. "Why, why are those houses so far from our own?" Yellow asked, pulling on your hand. You shrug, "can't say I know."

"Maybe it's because we're better than them," Duck replied with a prideful look. "Or maybe it's because we aren't..." Red mutters, his enthusiasm becoming less with each step the group took.

In the center of the colorful neighborhood stood a brilliant red house, with a couple of other houses and buildings surrounding it like a circle.

"Wow, it's so.." Duck interrupted Red quickly.

"Dull. Very dull."

"What? No. It's not dull."

"I like it." Yellow expresses. "Yeah, he likes it. Why can't you?"

"Because that house has two giant eyes that are staring at me."

Your group turns to look at the red house, it blinks right back at you.

"Erm.." You pull Yellow closer to you as the red home sets its eyes, or curtains, on you.

"Oh c'mon now, didn't that stupid notepad come to life before? How is this any different?" Red Guy stares at Duck for a few seconds before nodding. "Yeah, he's right."

The four of you ignore the living house and head in another direction. Going inside a little shop with so many items you could even buy a shed there.

"Howdy new neighbors! The names Howdy! Howdy Pillar, welcome to the neighborhood!"

A caterpillar-like puppet greets the four of you from behind a counter and cash register. He holds out all four limbs for a handshake. Causing Duck to jump back into Red as Yellow stared in awe at the many appendages.

"Yes, hello, we'd like to buy some of your goods. May we take them?" Duck explains, and you huff out a laugh, Howdy too, was chuckling.

"No can do neighbor, you gotta tell me a joke and I'll give you your groceries. Simple as that."

"What? Is that the currency of this place?" Red Guy mumbles as Duck stews in thought.

"Funny joke? Uhm, you kinda look like that, w-worm, no, he was an eagle guy. He went inside my head and gave me a worm in br-rain." Yellow announced curiously, causing Howdy to become quiet at the boys' words...

Your lips becoming a thin line as you recall the incident.

"That stupid worm thought he was a eagle, ha!" Duck mocked. Unaware of Howdy's thoughtful expression.

Before he too, was howling in laughter.

"A worm that thinks he's a bird?! Hahaahhaha!!" The store owner laughed loudly, trying to catch his breath as one of his arms slammed on the counter-top.

"Never heard that one! Interesting delivery there, bud'!" Howdy ruffles Yellows messy blue hair kindly, "So? What can I get ya'll?"

You step in, a simple smile on your face. "Coffee-"

"Now hold on," Duck interrupted, looking up at you. "I have my own specific items I need, I don't want them to be lumped with yours."

"Okay? But what I am getting is for everyone."

"Right, but I'm not everyone. I'm me, and I need things for me." Duck reiterates before pulling out a list and handing it to you. "You... You want more paper? Why?"

"For my shredder! Keep up!"

"Okay.. Can we have some paper-"

"Oh! And Chuddle Dollops, please?" Yellow asked, gazing up at you with puppy eyes. You nodded before look at Red expectantly. "Uhm, I'm good."

"Okay then, so..." Howdy lowers down beyond the counter, placing the items you needed. "Coffee, paper and.. Chuddle Dollops? Hm, never heard of that brand before, I didn't even know that was in stock! Oh well."

Handing over the bags, you thank Howdy as Yellow shyly thanked him too. "Thanks mate'," Red said, holding one of the bags for you, Duck nodded to the bodega owner before all four you left.

"Hm, strange neighbor's.. But they seem nice." Howdy comments to himself before wiping down the counter.

"I agree, they all are quite oddities."

"Oh! Didn't see ya' there Wally. The usual right?"

[Taglist Closed Unless stated otherwise..]

@sugarrush-blush @welcomehome102 @meowingatthemoonhastomanyanimals @r4slebol @elvenqueen12 @sparklyphantom @yourlocalleftairpod @osleeper @egg1sblog @dilfsmakemeleak @serpent-radio @midnight110 @mcbeeftarts @starkidblogs

[Hiya! I'm back! Thank you guys so much for such positive comments! Readings ya'lls reactions are the best and make it easier for me. Thanks! Art is always appreciated!]

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revrover · 1 year

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The Stranger - Pt. 3

Part One | Part Two

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Language, Violence, Depictions of drowning, Fluff

Summary: Delivered to safety following the battle on the beach, you are left reeling as you grapple with nightmares and questions about an uncertain future. But as you come to know more about the Talokanil people and grow closer to their king, Namor is faced with a question of his own -- what does he do with this stranger from the surface?

A/N: It’s heeeeeere!! As always, thank you so much for your patience, for being here, and for reading! And a BIG thank you just for taking the time to engage with and be a part of this story. You all have been so encouraging to me as new writer, and I love being able to create something around characters that so many hold so dear. Comments and reblogs make my heart happy, so please show some love, share the joy, and be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

Bullets fly as bodies hit the ground in front of you. There on the open beach, spears soar high above your head. Your gaze is drawn to the heavens as a chopper falls from the night sky. It crashes onto the shore below, an intense heat flashing against you as you shield your face from the explosion.

Suddenly, the sounds of dying men and burning metal fade as you lower your hand. You look down to find yourself waist-deep in a raging sea, the battle on the sand becoming a distant memory as waves beat harshly against you, unrelenting and unforgiving. A deafening melody accompanies each swell of the tide. It consumes your mind with pain and serenity as you are pulled further out into the ocean’s depths, following its call. The chorus grows louder as the water rises to your chest, building with intensity. Then, suddenly, all is quiet.

And there he is.

Hovering just above the water’s surface, his winged ankles carry him effortlessly. His reflection glistens perfectly against the water, now calm and smooth as glass. Illuminated by the full moon behind him, his body is covered in beautiful armor made of gold, jade, and other metals. A finely crafted serpent headpiece with bright feathers crowns his head, resting just above his brow.

Namor.

Wordlessly, Namor stretches out his hand, beckoning you to come to him. You reach out as if your very being is at his command. But, before you can grasp hold of him, the chorus of voices returns with a vengeance. A violent tide drags you under, swallowing you beneath the waves. Further and further down you are pulled as darkness surrounds you. Looking up toward the fading light, Namor’s silhouette above the surface dissolves from view. Your lungs burn as you begin to drown.

You jolt awake, your body shooting up in a cold sweat.

Chest heaving, your mind desperately claws its way back to reality. You quickly scan your surroundings, clinging to any detail that will anchor your consciousness and keep you from slipping back into that nightmare.

Gripping the stone surface beneath you, you take in every porous curve your fingertips graze over. Looking upward at the high rocky ceiling, you study the patterns of limestone stalactites that hang like icicles. Droplets of water run down a few of them, their melodious drips echoing in small pools below, falling like a gentle, rhythmic rain.

This is the place Namor had spoken of the last time you saw him. The one where he promised you would be safe. And for good reason — here in this cavern, you were well below the ocean’s surface and out of range of any agents who might come searching for you.

By your best guess, you figure you have been down here about two days. It’s hard to be sure without the reference to natural light. The cavern itself is beautiful, though. Illuminated by pockets of glow worms that drape down from the ceiling, their soft luminescence casts gorgeous green and blue hues across each surface their light touches.

As your heart rate begins to even out, you continue to survey the cave. You look over at your belongings, bag laying on the ground, clothes hanging on a line to dry. Your heart drops a bit when you see your little leather-bound book, its pages separated and spread out across the rocks. Ink bleeding. Pages ruined. You had made your best attempt to salvage what you could. Perhaps if you had asked Namora how the two of you would be traveling to this safe haven, you wouldn’t have brought a damn book with you.

The dissonance of the Talokan melody still rings in the back of your mind. You cradle your head between your knees, rubbing your temples with your thumbs when you hear light footsteps approach.

Looking up, you find a familiar face entering the cavern. No longer geared up for battle, Namora dawns a lovely dress that gathers over one shoulder and flows down to the floor. It moves like waves with each step she takes toward you. Instead of a spear in her hand, she now carries a small tray with a medley of food.

“Eat," Namora says, placing the tray on a small end table beside you. She then moves gracefully over to your draped belongings, removing them one by one from the line and folding them into a neat pile.

“Can I ask you a question?” You inquire as you begin to nibble on a piece of food.

Namora shoots a skeptical look over her shoulder but says nothing, so you ask anyway.

“Have you always been a warrior?”

Unresponsive, she keeps her attention on one of your shirts which she has just pulled from the line, tucking it into itself and placing it with the others.

“It's just, I mean the way you fought those agents on the beach, you are — you are very good at, you know—” you should have given more thought to what you were going to say before opening your mouth because as you reach the end of your sentence all that comes out is, “—killing people."

Nice.

You cringe at your comment. It hangs in the air, practically mocking you.

“I’m just saying," you add, trying to recover, "you obviously know what you’re doing. It was impressive. Me on the other hand…” Your voice trails as you raise your bandaged hand, recalling how your first instinct in a fight was to block a fucking knife with your open palm. Next to Namora, your combat skills pale by comparison.

Halting her task, Namora finally turns to face you in one calculated motion. She stares for a moment then her eyes quickly dart toward the side entrance of the cavern where she had come through only minutes ago. The entryway is empty. When her eyes settle back on you, there is resolve in them.

“Up.” She says, walking toward you with purpose.

“What?” You reply in a tone that matches the confused look on your face.

“Up.”

You do as you are told, hastily pushing yourself to your feet. Namora steps in close and then taps your elbows.

“Up.” She orders a third time, only now she seems to be referring specifically to your arms. You follow her instruction, raising them awkwardly out in front of your body. You can almost hear the sigh of hopelessness when Namora, her brow furrowed, grabs your arms and positions each one in a fighting stance. Slipping a hand up to your left wrist, she grips it firmly while tapping your exposed forearm with the palm of her other hand.

“Shield.” She says with emphasis. Her eyebrows raise, looking for any indication that you comprehend what she is trying to explain. When you nod, Namora moves her hand from your wrist up to your fingers, balling them into a fist and tucking your thumb on the outside.

“Weapon.”

Namora then steps back from you, putting her own arms up to mirror your stance.

“Shield, weapon,” she repeats, patting her forearm and waving her closed fist.

“Shield, weapon,” you echo back to her, nodding your head again as you begin to understand more fully.

Just as she begins to step back toward you, a deep voice calls from behind.

“Namora.”

You both look up to see the large man who wears the hammerhead skull standing in the entry of the cavern. Attuma is his name, as you have come to learn. Namora straightens her posture as she turns to face him, her hands behind her back as she squares her shoulders in a commanding stance.

Attuma saunters a few more feet into the cavern, then speaks to her in their native tongue, a language still unfamiliar to you. The two of them converse back and forth for a few moments. You may not know what they are saying, but you can tell they disagree about something — whether with each other or someone else, you are not sure.

Namora swiftly turns back to you, her face serious again and her brows pinched together.

Fighting lessons must be over.

“Come,” she says.

Without any further instruction, she pivots back toward Attuma, who also turns to leave. You quickly grab your belongings which Namora had folded for you, stuffing them into your bag. You sling it around your shoulder as you exit the cavern.

Following the two generals into a tunneled hallway, you find yourself moving through a network of caves, each tunnel connecting to a series of other openings and pools. Soon, Attuma splits off into one of these open caverns, nodding to Namora as he does so. Your eyes trail him as he joins with more Talokan warriors, and just as you stare at them, they stare at you.

You continue walking behind Namora past them, their whispers reverberating through the tunnels.

“When was the last time someone… not Talokanil came here?” You ask. In typical Namora fashion, she remains silent and unresponsive to your question.

“Sorry,” you say apologetically, “back there it just seemed like they hadn’t seen someone new in a while.”

The two of you walk, furthering yourself from the turnoff where Attuma parted ways. Cautiously, you step around the uneven surfaces of the rocky ground. You can feel yourself being led deeper into the maze of caverns. If Namora decided to up and ditch you right now, you are certain you would be lost in this labyrinth forever.

“You are the first,” Namora says rather abruptly, catching you off guard. Not only does her response come well after your question was asked, but it is also the most she has ever said to you at one given time.

“The first?” You ask, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

“To come here,” Namora answers. “The first surface dweller to receive Talokan’s aid. The first the king has ever…” she pauses a moment, searching for the right word, “tolerated.”

The influx of her voice is not lost on you.

“And you don’t approve?”

“It is not my place to approve, " Namora clarifies as she leads you around a bend and past several open pools of water. "I am… concerned. When it comes to you, I fear he is blind.”

Silence befalls you both again as you enter another cavern, this one much larger and more spacious than any others you have seen. Within it are several large pools, glistening with light reflected from more glow worms above. Their tendrils hang from the high vaulted ceiling like sparkling chandeliers.

In the center of it all stands a large hut enclosed by beautifully woven fabrics. You follow Namora shoulder to shoulder up the stone-carved steps to it until you nearly reach the side.

“We’re here,” Namora says, coming to a dead stop. She then takes a step back from you.

Still unsure of where “here” is exactly, you glance over your shoulder, looking to her for further instruction or explanation. But Namora gives you nothing. The moment you begin to take a step backward as well, her hand shoots out, holding the back of your shoulder in position with a firm grip.

Ah. Don't move. Got it.

Subconsciously you begin to hold your breath, bracing yourself for the unknown.

Then, there he is.

From around the corner of the hut comes Namor. Immediately you are taken aback by his appearance. Up to this point, you have only seen him suited for battle. Now he stands before you dawning a beautifully woven cape plated with gold and draped across his broad shoulders. His hair is slicked back and his arms are adorned with various metal cuffs. Truly a wardrobe fit for a king.

A single nod of his head and Namora is dismissed. You hear her small footsteps fade as she leaves the two of you alone.

“How is your hand?”

Namor’s question snaps you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you raise your hand, glancing at the worn bandage. "It’s fine, thank you.”

Staring at the gauze, you can almost hear the lullaby Namor hummed as he gently tended to your wounded palm the night of the battle. Something flutters inside you as you touch the corner of the fabric. Realizing your mind has drifted again, you bring yourself back to reality by following up with your own question.

"Are we in..." you stop to rephrase, shifting your weight from side to side as you look around the cavern, “Is this… Talokan?"

If it is, it's very different from what you pictured.

Your question brings a smile to Namor’s face.

"No," he answers with a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "Talokan is far beyond this place. I assure you, your body would not survive the journey to its depths. But these caverns are safe, I promise you.”

Namor then shifts the topic of conversation.

“I am told some of your belongings were ruined on your traveling here, including your book. I apologize. I had hoped to make up for it.”

With one arm, Namor ushers you around the corner to the entrance of his quarters, inviting you inside.

Intrigued and eager to see what awaits, you accept his invitation. As you enter, you find yourself in a study of sorts. Lit by several lanterns, the room is warm and bright. Within it sits a small table, a prominent desk full of scrolls and artifacts, and a cozy hammock hung in the corner. But what catches your eye most of all are the walls.

All around you hang gorgeous tapestry walls with breathtaking murals that stretch from floor to ceiling.

“Did you do all of these?” You ask in disbelief as you move to one at the far end of the room. Your eyes widen as you gaze in admiration at the beautiful artistry.

“Yes,” Namor answers humbly, following behind you. “I think you will find a more accurate depiction of my history here.”

“I don’t know,” you say with playful skepticism in your voice as you inspect the artwork closer, “always be weary of your authors, right?” You smirk as you shift your glance sideways to Namor, echoing his words back to him in jest. His face is serious at first but quickly turns to amusement.

“You remembered,” he says nodding his head, an impressed grin now stretching at the corners of his mouth, “that is good.”

You return your attention to the paintings. What a gift it is to be standing here in front of them. Full of stories, full of history. And to be accompanied by the man who created them himself — who lived them himself. It is all a far cry from the vague glyphs you tried so hard to decipher in your book.

"They're amazing." You say in awe, following along the panels as you trace the line work delicately with your fingertip.

Immersed in the murals, you are too busy to notice Namor's softening gaze as he watches you study his work so intently. Here you are, an outsider who he has welcomed into his space. It is not like him to be so open, especially not with a stranger from the surface — never someone from the surface — yet, something about you causes a stirring inside of him. Perhaps it is your enthusiasm and wonders for his culture or your refreshing dose of humanity towards his people that compels his desire to be close to you.

As you follow the artwork from panel to panel across the walls, you arrive at a scene that suddenly makes you freeze. Your wrist snaps your finger back as if repelled by the paint itself. In front of you is a large image of Namor dawning a serpent headpiece as he hovers above the water. You are immediately back in your nightmare, your mind flashing to Namor’s outstretched hand then the darkness that closes in around you as you start to drown. You can almost feel the fire in your lungs as they grow desperate for air.

“What troubles you?” Namor asks with genuine traces of concern in his voice. Your sudden silence has not gone unnoticed. He moves to stand shoulder to shoulder with you now, looking up to analyze the same part of the mural.

"Nothing," you lie, shaking your head while your hand drops to your side. You withdraw from the painting, taking a few steps back from it and Namor.

“Your people," you say to change the subject, pointing your thumb to the rest of the artwork in the room, "they honor you. It's admirable, what you've done for them. To keep them safe all this time."

“But?” He senses there is more on your mind.

You stare at him, then turn your focus back to the tapestries surrounding you. Scanning them from wall to wall, you notice a pattern in the stories shown.

“It’s just,” you begin with uncertainty in your voice “for someone who has spent his whole life bringing peace to his people, I wonder how much of it you have experienced for yourself?”

Namor is quiet for a moment.

"And why do you wonder this?" He finally replies, turning to face you fully.

“I guess I look at these and I’m curious… how? How can you do that without completely breaking under the weight of it all? Even with—” you begin gesturing to his body and suddenly become desperate to come up with the right words in time, “superhuman strength.” Thank god.

“Hmmm,” Namor exhales, thoughtfully nodding as his gaze drops to the floor. He folds his arms over his chest, the golden band around his exposed bicep reflecting the light that softly glows from a nearby lantern. Taking a few steps toward you, he lifts his eyes to yours.

“It is true,” he says, “the burden I carry for the sake of my people does not always permit me the personal luxury of peace. It… can be difficult.” His tone shifts from diplomatic to vulnerable. “And who is to say I have not broken under it? It is that brokenness that has made me the leader I am.”

Turning his head toward the mural, he looks at it carefully before speaking again. His chiseled jawline accentuates the exposed veins protruding from his neck.

"To your question,” he continues, “I believe how is never as important as why. Why would someone fight to bring others peace when they themselves cannot have it?” Namor takes another step closer and lifts his hand to your chin, delicately angling your face upward toward his own. "Because we sacrifice to protect what we love.”

His eyes search yours earnestly. After a moment, Namor quickly drops his hand from your chin and you watch as he moves towards his desk, shuffling a few scrolls around before looking back up at you again.

“I love my people,” he says, planting his hand firmly on the desk, “and I have seen evil, what it is capable of. I watch as the rest of the world grows desperate in their greed and ambition, their desire for power. They are becoming more dangerous by the day."

"You mean — surface dwellers?" You ask.

Namor raises his brow at you knowingly.

"Yes,” he answers cooly.

"I'm a surface dweller. Am I...dangerous?"

Namor sighs with a small smile.

“Yes. Though not in the way you may think.”

He moves from out behind his desk and back over in your direction.

“Now I have a question for you,” he says in a low voice, approaching you with a dark look looming over his face. “Please consider your answer carefully.”

The silence is intense. Your heart feels like it is going to jump out of your throat as you anticipate what damning question the king of Talokan has in store for you.

Namor’s expression changes on a dime, and he suddenly asks in a lighthearted tone,

“Are you up for a swim?”

—

You follow Namor out of his quarters and into the large open cavern. As you pass by several beautiful pools of water, you are enchanted by how the light dances across the rich tones of Namor's skin. The same light casts dazzling hues of aquamarine and cerulean across the surface of the pools, reflected onto the rocks surrounding them.

Namor approaches one of the bigger pools and removes the cape from his shoulder, exposing his bare chest underneath. Here is the Namor you recognize - prominent necklace, bare chest, emerald green shorts. Before dropping his cape to the ground, however, he pulls out a Talokan mask from the fabric like the ones Namora and the other warriors wear.

“Take a deep breath,” Namor says as he turns to you. He pushes your hair back from your cheek delicately as he applies the apparatus to your face. Doing as you are told, you inhale deeply as the mask fastens over your nose and mouth.

“Stay close,” he instructs. You nod, and Namor steps to the edge of the closest pool. He looks back at you with a hint of a smile on his face. Then, with all the strength and grace of a god, he dives perfectly into the water and disappears under the surface.

You step closer to the pool. The faint rhythm of droplets falling from the ceiling rings throughout the cavern. You glance behind you toward the entrance, but there isn't a soul in sight. Namora’s words echo through your mind.

When it comes to you, he is blind.

You dive in, following Namor.

Once in the water, you quickly orient yourself. Looking around, you see the outline of Namor, his silhouette waiting for you in the distance. As you swim closer, he gestures for you to follow him. You kick your feet to propel yourself further downward, ears popping as you equalize to the increasing pressure.

You swim until you are clear of the caves. Though your muscles ache, there is something serene about being beneath the water; the quiet, the weightlessness, everything drifting harmoniously in rhythm with the current. For the first time since you can remember, your mind feels still. Free from the chaos. Somehow, the vast open sea does not frighten you with its deep blue void as it did in your dream. Not even a little. Instead, you feel a calmness in your soul as you lose track of time entirely, trailing Namor as you move through the ocean’s depths.

Quite literally in his element, you watch in awe as Namor swims so effortlessly. To him, it must be as easy as breathing. He looks more relaxed than you have seen him. Perhaps even enjoying himself?

You continue to swim, the water getting lighter as the visibility becomes clearer. A school of fish rushes past, their scales glimmering with each flick of a fin or contour of their bodies. Countless numbers weave around you in sync as if part of the same carefully choreographed ballet. You can’t help but smile as you watch them move so freely, and Namor can't help but smile as he watches you.

Suddenly the fish rapidly disperse and within seconds a huge mass flashes past you with incredible speed and agility. Your eyes widen and adrenaline rushes through you as you witness a killer whale chase the school, its size completely dwarfing your mere human frame. Involuntarily, you begin hyperventilating as you watch the giant creature swim off into the distance. When you feel a touch against your arm, you turn to find Namor next to you. His hand rises and falls in front of his torso, gesturing for you to take deep breaths. In, out. In, out.

The two of you remain suspended in the endless ocean blue as you your breath slows and your muscles recover. Namor looks upward, and as you savor the moment of rest you follow his gaze. You can tell by the light above that you are getting close to the surface, which must mean you are nearing your destination. When he nods, you know it is time to move. Slowly the two of you start your ascent and the ocean becomes warmer as you gradually near the top.

When you arise from the water, the sound of the rushing wind, the rolling waves, and birds flying overhead rush into your ears. Less than a hundred meters from you stretches a beautiful coastline covered in soft white sand and lined by rich green foliage.

You make your way towards it. Soon you are walking knee-deep in the waves, the tide splashing against the back of your legs as you near the shore. Removing the mask from your face, the sweet breeze of the island races by, rustling your wet hair and filling your nostrils with the earthy aroma of some nearby palm trees.

Namor has already reached the sand. He stands tall, water still running down his body. Staring out at the horizon, he runs his hand over his face and pushes his hair back, inadvertently flexing his bicep as he does so. The sun slowly begins its descent toward the Earth, its warm rays casting brilliant tones of red and orange across Namor’s exposed skin. It contrasts the deep blues and greens that illuminated him in the caverns, and at this point, you are confident he looks devastatingly beautiful in any light.

As you reach the shore, you take your place next to him and stare out at the skyline.

“Hard to beat a view like that,” you say breathlessly.

“My mother would always describe to me the beauty of the setting sun,” Namor responds. “I have no love for the surface world, but from time to time I visit this island. See what she saw.”

“Is this—?” You begin to ask.

“Where she is buried.” Namor answers before you finish your question. His eyes drop as he reflects, “I am not sure what I expected to see the day I came to lay her body to rest. I suppose the beauty of an island she spoke of so fondly. Instead, I found my brothers and sisters enslaved by men who took life without a second thought.” His jaw clenches as he recalls the bitter memory. “But I saw to it the favor was returned.”

His meaning is clear. You are not sure which makes you more nervous — the calm and cool way he says it, or the menacing smile that accompanies his statement. Either way, his smile disappears as quickly as it comes. You have seen Namor’s ferocity firsthand and know what he is capable of, especially when it comes to protecting his people. A nervous feeling grows in the pit of your stomach as you begin questioning his purpose in bringing you here.

You consider the facts:

You are a surface dweller.

He did call you dangerous.

Oh shit.

Anxiously you glance at him, then redirect your gaze back to the horizon to maintain your composure. The soft waves break along the shore, racing up to your ankles. As the sand beneath your feet gets pulled out by the tide, you wish with all your might you could be pulled away with it. Instead, you sink deeper into the ground, more immovable than before.

“Are you going to kill me?” The words come out blunter than you intend, but you stand by them despite the quiver in your voice.

The question pulls Namor out of his thoughts as he turns to you, eyebrows raised. He studies your face carefully before answering.

“I probably should," he says. There is no malice in his words, only honesty. “The knowledge you have of me and my people... it puts me in a difficult position.” His eyes are solemn. "But I have lived a long time, and in that time I have witnessed many in their final moments before death when one truly reveals themself. That night on the beach, in what you believed were your final moments, you kept your word to me and my people. You said nothing to those men, even with your life on the line. There is no truer test of loyalty.”

Without a word, he reaches his hand out for the mask you still carry. You cautiously hand it over.

"There is a village eastward,” Namor continues, “you will find everything you need there, and the means to leave this place."

You feel his palm slip under your fingers to receive the mask. He takes a deep breath, then purses his lips in the direction behind you.

“Or, just up the way beyond those trees is a house. It is not much, but comfortable. It is yours to use... if you wish. You would be safe here.”

The offer catches you off guard.

“I… I don't understand." You mutter in slight confusion.

With a deep inhale, Namor squints back at the setting sun to collect his thoughts. Then, taking another step closer, he eliminates virtually any remaining space between you. His eyes are deep and mesmerizing as ever. Your heart races from his sudden proximity and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to speak again. He peers down at you, so impossibly close that you can sense the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

"You are no enemy of mine," he says with authority, "and no prisoner of Talokan. You have my trust. And because of that trust, I will not order you to stay." Namor then drops the mask into the sand like it is worthless and gently slides his hands underneath your jawline, cradling your face in both of his palms. “But I am asking you to.”

You are speechless. The way he is holding your gaze, the tenderness of his thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek, the fluttering of his lashes as his eyes flick down to your mouth.

"Stay," Namor says fervently in one final clarifying word. It is not a command, but an invitation. Perhaps even a plea. But most importantly, it is a choice. Your choice.

His eyes quickly dart back up to yours as he awaits an answer, but even Namor is not strong enough to keep his attention from dropping back down to your lips. He is clearly focused on more than just the words he hopes to hear come out of them.

In an overwhelming wave of boldness, you allow instinct to take over. No lives at stake, no siren’s song — it is only the burning desire within your very soul for him that compels you. You close your eyes and melt into Namor’s touch, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you do so, it is as if a surge of energy courses through your veins, electrifying your entire body. Namor immediately welcomes your advance, molding his lips to your own. The smooth piece of jade that pierces his septum presses cooly above your lip, contrasting the heat of his skin to ignite your senses. As he slides a hand around to the back of your neck, his fingers curl into your hair to bring you in even closer.

A small moan escapes you as the tip of his tongue traces along your bottom lip. You can feel his smile against your mouth, then a tug at the same lip with his teeth. Another invitation, to which you gladly accept. You part your mouth open to let Namor inside. Both of your tongues dance together as your kisses become deeper and more indulgent.

Consumed by his taste and his touch, you slide your hands up his bare chest, desperate for more of him. Without missing a beat, Namor responds by running his arms down your body and hoisting you up off the sand with ease. You wrap your legs around him tightly and take full advantage of this new, higher angle. Moving your mouth in tandem with his, you savor the richness of his lips and entangling your fingers in his dark locks of hair.

The two of you ebb and flow just like the rolling ocean waves, losing yourselves in each other. It’s not until you feel a faint burning in your lungs that you face the harsh reality of having to break away for air. Everything inside you fights it. If Namor were the sea, you would gladly let yourself drown in this moment.

But Namor, also sensing your need for oxygen, begins to slow down. He lowers you gently to the ground, though he is careful not to let you slip too far away from him. The two of you breathe heavily as the sun begins to dip below the horizon. Namor gives you another passionate kiss, this one slow and deep. His lips then move to the corner of your mouth and trail up to your ear, the heat of his breath spreading like wildfire across your skin. You can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Holding you close, Namor leans his forehead against your temple and presses his lips against your ear.

“Please," he whispers. "Stay with me.”

--------

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