𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸.....𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 “𝘋𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘴” 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦.
(are you imagining the wistfulness in her voice?)
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘷𝘦 "𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦," 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵...𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯.
(a static-electricity exhalation, like someone breathing life into an overtuned mic.)
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦. 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰, 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘙𝘢𝘋.
(a safety-yellow silhouette of one shadow-puppet proposing to another. in place of a ring, the puppet presents the object of its affections with what looks like a robloxcore RPG-7, every part save the warhead evoking a cobbled-together tinkertoy. a speech balloon above the blushing bride-to-be reads, “REJOICE AND DELIGHT!”)
𝘛𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺.....𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸.
the first foe falls without much pageantry or preamble. it’s a pitiful woman in a gown of scrap, half-dreaming and half-dreamed.
(it’s funny, really. they call it left trigger, right trigger, but the process of pulling it’s nothing like its namesake. instead….)
you crook your finger just so, gentle and deliberate.
a giddy tremor travels through you, lighting you up hips to heart, far more full-body than even the EDGE PRO ELITE CONTROLLER’s VIBEZONE RUMBLE TECH could manage.
red letters pulse in the corner of your eye.
the round cycles. you sink back in your seat and s i g h, glowy and spellbound, taking the drifty moment between quickboosts to bask.
(maybe this is why everyone says “zimmermans op pls nerf.”)
your shotguns shear off half its license to linger on this side of wakefulness in two shots. left arm, right arm. crook. clench.
(when you unload your back units, it feels less like a coup-de-grace and more like…..
you don’t remember rebinding the controls, but the thumb-and-forefinger pinch comes naturally. less haphazardly mashing shoulder buttons in a manic moment of triumph, more an innocuous trained reflex.)
pop. pop. pop. pop. the world slows down. something in your belly flutters and joyously spirals. you start to wonder if you’re really awake.
(a lazy drawl that lingers, echoing in your thoughts.)
"oh, tourist’s underselling you."
"still, though. it’s bad news if the RaD Tourism Board gets too restless."
"see you at the parade?"
the emblem of a photorealistic gummy worm, at once both devouring itself and – if you let your eyes unfocus just so – birthing something new. core designation JUST DESSERTS.
𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘬𝘺, 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭, 𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬. 𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘖𝘓𝘓𝘖𝘞 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛.
𝘪 𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳! 𝘪’𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨–
"corrupting her? isn’t that a little melodramatic, red?"
𝘏𝘰𝘸–𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘋𝘈𝘙𝘌 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘮𝘦! 𝘐…
𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘢! 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴!
"aw, red. are you really gonna begrudge an old woman her last moment of joy?"
"wanna know something, red?"
"i used to make toys."
𝘪 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.
"knowing it and hearing it’s two different things, red. knowing it and talking about it’s two different things."
𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦–
"tricks? red, we’re barely out of august. halloween’s a lifetime away."
…𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵?
"i used to make toys. sometimes i wonder if i still do, but–eh, feels a little ghoulish."
"you learn a lot making toys, though. you learn a lot about a lot, if you’re any good. wanna know the first thing i learned, red?"
(a slow breath in. a shrug.)
"toys are meant to be shared. what’s the point in hoarding a laugh?"
𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨…?
"i’m saying i am going to share. so stop eyeing me like you’re scared i’ll taint your toy."
𝘪–𝘪 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘦’𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘢.
"….what? no ‘my sparrow is not a toy,’ red?"
"‘s it suddenly okay if she’s your toy bound in your strings, red?"
…𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘢.
"y’know what? sure, i’ve done worse for a laugh."
Active Threads > BUDDY, THEY WON’T EVEN LET ME FUCK THE DARK SOUL GANG (ac6)
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: so uh is the smart cleaner a fight you’re supposed to lose
armored core silent linewife: wdym
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: my weapons do like no damage and her weakpoint is rlly hard to hit ;;
armored core silent linewife: oh u just fly over it
armored core silent linewife: get a better angle
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: but.
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: every time i try to fly up she does that grab attack and the dodge timing is ridic ;; and like,
alpha/beta/otsdarva ao3 tag: Uh,
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: i’m into The Vibe when she grabs you and tears out your boosters all like ｂｏｒｒｏｗｅｄ ｗｉｎｇｓ ｄｏｎ’ｔ ｂｅｃｏｍｅ ｙｏｕ， ｌｉｔｔｌｅ ｈｏｕｎｄ but idk it’s kind of a frustrating mechanic
alpha/beta/otsdarva ao3 tag: UH,
armored core silent linewife: is this a bit
armored core silent linewife: you have to tell us if this is a bit
armored core silent linewife: thats the mfin law
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: please don’t be mean to me ;; i’m trying very hard but even on the uh easy mode it’s so
armored core silent linewife: wdym easy mode
armored core silent linewife: worm guns???
alpha/beta/otsdarva ao3 tag: That’s not until Chapter–
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: oh my God no the whole drink deep of the world uwu thing
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: istg every time i try asking for help people act like i’m playing a different game
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: why do i have to piece together how to play this stupid thing from the wiki and the secret menu wiki
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: why does everyone ask if i have a gas leak in my house when i ask abt story stuff
pca autonomous weapon MODS????: why are you all Like This
armored core silent linewife: im so Fucking confused
alpha/beta/otsdarva ao3 tag: Yeah.
"you can hear them too, huh? hounds baying just below, all eyes and no stomach. they take one look at the puppy-shaped path of destruction someone left in her wake and one sniff of the fried ozone and that dizzying burnt-coral smell and think,"