Guess Whos Into Wolfenstein Now, Lads

Guess who’s into Wolfenstein now, lads

(Ft. a lazy edit job)

June 20th is Tactics’ 20th Anniversary

[The following excerpt is more of a draft than usual; I’ll repost it on the 20th, but everyone will be busy with Stormblood by then. It likely needs heavy edits. As a draft of part of the ending, it is subject to heavy changes - some of these sequences may occur earlier in the book or in a different order. This sequence draws from the adaptation’s context. Comments are appreciated.]

And with one single, sharp backhand, she sent Ramza flying backwards to the blood-drenched deck.

“I am come once more.”

Ramza watched through eyes swelling shut as his sister’s hair rippled in a wave of silver, until it was all gray, whipping about in wind that did not exist in the necrohol’s still air. Alma—Ajora—Ultima—all of her smiled thinly, and an explosion of white fire, holy light, erupted forth, knocking everyone back, ripping the airship’s mast loose and flinging it to the sky.

He reached for his sister, grasping at nothing. “Alma, no!”

***

Alma Beoulve was drowning.

Her head would rise above the brackish water, dark and freezing cold, and she’d taste the oil and the blood of it, and then she’d be beneath it again, fingers clawing at the stone surrounding her. The way her nails split and her knuckles scraped, she couldn’t know how much of the blood was her own. It had been minutes and months, and every muscle of her groaned and split like rotten tree trunks in the worst of the storm. Her mind was numb of the struggle of it, she just kept kicking and grabbing out of instinct and impulse, a faint flicker of candlelight in her soul that pulsed live, live, live, live…

But that heartbeat’s rhythm kept skipping in the face of the other chanting, louder, echoing up and down the stone column, bubbling in the water, hob, gob, gob, hob, hob, hob, gob, hob…

When her head was above the waterline, when she could feel the hands grasping ‘round her ankles and pulling, she’d open her eyes to take in the single disc of light at the well’s mouth above, no larger than a gilcoin, and at times she’d see the woman’s silhouette gazing back down at her…

She’d heard, read stories that had said “a smile like a knife” but couldn’t ever get the vision to make sense, had even held once a dagger of Zalbaag’s in order to frame the idea of it, but only now, in seeing that grin form across a face she couldn’t make out, was it ever so real. The gasps of air and of light and of self were marred with that smile, like a scratched lens.

And when her head was below the waterline, she was instead somewhere else.

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that moment when you realized russia, china and the EU have all legislated against memes

FUCK H*MESTUCK DAY GIVE IT TF UP FOR NEIL BANGING OUT THE TUNES DAY

Me: So basically Hollywood is a propaganda outlet used to make us accept the narratives of the state department and assists in manufacturing our consent for our military policies across the globe.

Marvel fans getting ready to tell me I’m wrong by mentioning their favorite pro-US, pro-CIA, pro-military movie: