#also dude can give a SPEECH like he could read off the yellow pages and i would be SAT

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

just thinking about sam wilson <3

[enkisstories]

The theme park androids were instructed to improvise in those hours when no story scene was scheduled. To that end they constantly scanned their surroundings, the number, composition and mood of the park visitors to decide their actions. Sometimes people approached the actors, other times they wanted to get engaged and then again they desired to be left alone and explore Galaxy's Edge on their own.

Working through his routine analysis, today the android playing General Hux added another factor to the calculations: What do I feel like doing?

That was unheard of, especially since it stood to reason that an EM500 should always "feel like" entertaining humans. Not so the Huxdroid. After carefully weighing all variables, he concluded that giving an evil speech would be the best compromise between his wishes and the general vibe he was getting from the humans.

But as he approached the microphone, Hux overheard the father yelling:

Todd: "Just look at that thing, Alice! Androids! Walking in the rain perfectly unfazed, no cap, no umbrella, no water stains. So PERFECT. And never in a bad mood! It's sickening!"

Alice: "Father, I..."

Todd: "There used to be people getting paid to play these roles. Back then we had only Rey and Vi Moradi and Kylo Ren, not every last floor sweeper of the First Order. That was still quality shit!"

Parents did that, of course, telling their kids about the way the world had worked when they had been young. But this particular father was working himself into a rage, so much that he didn't even seem to realize that he was shouting AT his daughter, as if the current state of the world was somehow the girl's fault.

Shouting at children... In this moment the character Armitage Hux and the actor Jerry EM500 were firmly on the same page: Some things could not get tolerated.

And also... "no cap, no umbrella"? "Floor sweeper"?! Alright, that last one would canonically refer to Finn, but a) the man probably hadn't read the supplemental material and b) he had looked into Hux' direction while saying that.

Someone had just earned a lifetime sentence to the salt mines of Crait!

Or, in the real world, had "volunteered" to be the first test subject of Jerry's newfound ability to hurt humans...

Todd: "AND THEY ALL WERE REAL NICE, FROM THEIR HEARTS, NOT BECAUSE THE WERE PROGRAMMED TO SIMUALATE IT!!!"

Hux: "Alright, rebel-scum, that has went far enough! You tone that yelling down and behave right now or...!"

Todd: "Or what? You things can't hurt people! And cut out that "rebel scum" bs! This here is the real world., where plastic goes into the yellow bin!"

Hux: "I used that ingame phrase to grant you a graceful exit as the ruffian obeying the General. But since you didn't take that chance or were too stupid to recognize it in the first place... real world it is, then. Real life is where punches hurt, my dude."

Todd: "Out of my way, action figure. Now!"

They stood. And stared.

One was a streetwise former bouncer.

The other was a clown.

Turned out that more people were irrationally afraid of clowns than of bouncers. Something about this android was different... and there had been the rumors of those things going haywire... and one never knew if Disney didn't have their actors double as security... especially the one that was a remorseless killer in-universe.

Todd Williams' found his confidence crumbling under the stare of those green eyes, that he knew to be an illusion, just a layer of color over eerily glowing blue sensors.

Todd: "Okay, okay, have it your way. You piece of scrap plastic aren't worth the hassle."

Hux: "I wish I could force your father to apologize and buy you a toy, but management would probably take his side. I'm sorry."

Alice: "No, don't be. You shut him up!"

Hux: "That I did! Want to see the TIE-echelon now?"

Alice: "We don't have tickets for that ride."

Hux: "So that means we can't take off with it. But we can go in and look at everything."

Snooping around in restricted places was immensely cool when there was someone with you whom you could trust. It was so sad, the android thought, that this someone wasn't the child's father, but a random stage play prop.

Hux also regretted that he couldn't really beat the living daylights out of the man, even though he knew that he was capable of violence now. But there were restraints stronger than the CyberLife code and they were called "uncomfortable consequences of rogue actions".

All the EM500 could do was take the child under his wing and see to it that she had a nice day safely away from that lout of a father.

While he was running towards the TIE-echelon, Hux contacted Rey and transmitted the profile of this child ("shy, daydreamish bookworm"). Silently, although the conversation would later show up in the network's protocols, the two androids agreeed for Rey to appear and "rescue" the child from the First Order, then show her around the rebel camp, as was their ongoing task.

All this insight, yet so little power...

---

With how alert and adept at people-reading they are, the EM500s would probably make great detectives. Like a cross between the canon EM400s and Connor.

[five-rivers]

Prompt by @fruity-hub-blog.  Phor the Phic Phight.

.

.

.

The night was auspicious for a summoning, all the stars and planets in their ideal locations. The date, Beltane, was excellent. The mansion was old, Gothic, and had more than a passing reputation for being haunted, not to even mention the town. The candles were high-quality all-natural beeswax. The chalk was the purest white. The altar at the center of the geometrically perfect chalk circle was of clean-cut marble. The practitioners were experienced. The ritual...

Well, that remained to be seen.

But still, they couldn't ignore the opportunity to summon the Dark King, the Lord of the Afterlife, the Ruler of All Ghosts and Spirits. It was the kind of thing that only came along once in a lifetime, if that.

Each of the thirteen of them had their lines, their part of the ritual that they had memorized after months of practice. It was complex, but also oddly simple. Elegant. Refined. Perfect.

The grandfather clock in the drawing room began to toll midnight, the signal to begin. The practitioners' voices wove together, reaching up, up, up, and hopefully through the veil separating the mortal world from the one belonging to the spirits.

The candles flared, first yellow, then red, then green, reaching higher and higher until the circle looked like a cage with bars of fire. A wind whipped through the room, twisting and tangling the flames. The hoods of the practitioners' robes were blown free, exposing their faces. A few put up their hands to shield their faces from the flames, but none of them stopped chanting.

The leader, their high priest, took his dagger from beneath his robes and drew it smoothly across his hand. He let the blood puddle there, before flinging it out, towards the altar at the center of the circle. The book they had read had suggested that the ritual was more likely to be successful if the high priest made a more significant sacrifice at the altar, or if the high priest made the sacrifice at the altar, in the circle, thereby putting himself at the King's mercy, but, well. The practitioners were all dedicated. None of them was that dedicated.

A few drops of blood hit the altar, and there was a flash of light that was bright and somehow dark all at once. The practitioners had to avert their gazes.

"What have you done now, Daniel?" asked a mature, highly annoyed voice. It echoed weirdly around the room.

"I didn't do anything," said a much younger, but still male voice. "I never do anything. Whenever something happens, it's because you decided to go all power h- Ellie!?"

"Ow," this third voice was younger and female. "That was weird. What happened? Where are we?"

"I don't- Oh. Hello. Uh. Hm." Two pairs of green eyes and one pair of red blinked out of the circle at the practitioners. "We seem to have been summoned by a cult. Hi, Mr. Thunder." As the practitioners' eyes adjusted, they saw one of the three (three!) ghosts they had summoned wave to one of their more junior members.

Lance Thunder made a strangled noise. "Phantom? And the Wisconsin Ghost?"

The smallest ghost snickered. "The Wisconsin Ghost? Really?"

The largest ghost growled. "That is not my name. I am-"

"Oh my gosh, is that blood?" asked Phantom, pointing at the altar. His finger traced the line back to the high priest. "Dude, you're bleeding. Are you okay? You should probably get that looked at, it looks pretty deep from here."

The high priest blinks for a minute, then turns his gaze to the eldest ghost. "You... must be the king," he said, forgetting his planned speech, "and these," he hesitated for a moment, "phantoms are your attendants?"

There was a beat of silence then an uproar of laughter. "Him? King? You're joking right?"

"He's so bad at getting people to listen to him that he makes his own followers from scratch!" exclaimed the younger ghost. "And I still told him to stuff it!"

"People hate him more than they hate me!" Phantom took a deep breath and seemed to settle himself. "Why would you think he was a king?"

"We were, er, we were trying to summon the King of All Ghosts," said Lance Thunder when it became clear no one else was going to answer.

"Pariah Dark? Why?" asked Phantom, clearly taken aback. "The heck would anyone want to do that? Don't answer, we all know you're the lunatic that let him out last time."

By this point, the ghosts had moved so that they were standing on opposite ends of the altar, the Wisconsin Ghost on one side, and the two green-eyed ghosts on the other.

Lance glanced at the high priest again. "To... ask a boon."

"Right," said Phantom. "Well, it's a good thing you didn't get him, honestly."

"But-" said the high priest, reemerging from his stupor. "Why you? Why three of you? This doesn't make sense! This was for one, specific, ghost! There shouldn't be three."

The ghosts exchanged glances. Phantom, with the air of someone trying to be subtle, tested the boundary of the circle and winced slightly as his hand met an impenetrable wall.

"Most likely," said the Wisconsin Ghost, clasping his hands behind his back and standing straight, "it is because Daniel and I were the last ghosts to be in Pariah's presence, as we were the ones to defeat him."

"Please, you showed up at literally the last second and turned a key. You didn't fight. I guess you were there, but that doesn't explain Ellie. You secretly a king, Ellie?"

"Nah, but I bet I'd make a great queen." She struck a pose then let it drop, shrugging. "I'm going to be honest, though, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The similarities between Danielle's ectosignature and yours probably confused the spell. Now, if you are all quite satisfied that we aren't the ghost you are looking for, release us. I'd prefer not to have to waste time breaking out. My night has been disrupted enough."

The high priest twitched, then clenched his uninjured hand. "No," he said.

The Wisconsin Ghost raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"No. Perhaps you aren't the ones we wanted, but we would be fools to throw away this opportunity." The high priest took a deep breath and uttered a word of binding.

Lines of light sprang up from the circle, wrapping around the ghosts. The boy was the first bound, then the older ghost, and finally, after what almost seemed like confusion, the girl. The lights tried to arrange them on the altar, but that only resulted in the ghosts being mashed together in a confusing pile.

"Oh, come on!" said Phantom, wriggling. "I've already filled my ritual sacrifice attempt quota this week!"

"Stop that at once, Daniel, you're kicking me in the face!"

Phantom wriggled harder.

"Bring the book," ordered the high priest. "Perhaps it can shed some light on these events and tell us how we might reap benefits for ourselves."

"Are we going to put them in thrall?" asked one of the practitioners, excitedly. "Make a bargain? Collect their powers? Sacrifice them to higher beings?"

"Wow, all of that sounds terrible," said Phantom, craning his head back so that it hung off the edge of the altar. "Like, really terrible. You shouldn't do any of those. Trust me, they'll all backfire horribly."

The book, an old crumbling thing that had long been in the family of the high priest, was brought forward and opened. He flipped through the pages, slowly. He had read the book cover to cover many times, but some kind of power had been infused into the pages, and he often found passages in them that he would swear he had never laid eyes on before. That was how he had come across the ritual to summon the Ghost King and extract a boon from him.

The priest stops, a sentence catching his eye. Should a title be contested, it may be that all spirits with a claim to it are called. This gives the priest a sacred task, to mediate the dispute. The priest read through the next few pages.

In all honesty, the high priest didn't put much stock into things like sacred duty. Although his great-grandfather had been invested in the art and ritual for spiritual reasons, the high priest was of a more practical bent. So what if ghosts existed? People had always at least suspected that. All it meant was that you had to secure your position in the afterlife, too.

One of the other practitioners cleared their throat. "Master," said Lance Thunder. "I really think that we should just let them go. I mean, Phantom is a tutelary spirit."

"I mean, thanks, but I'm actually terrible at school."

"Be quiet, Daniel."

"So?" asked the high priest.

"So, we need him to keep the town from being overrun with ghosts," said Lance Thunder.

"With the powers we can gain from this, we could protect the town ourselves," said the high priest.

"You know," said Phantom, "saying 'could' sort of implies you won't. And this is a really uncomfortable position. The last cult I got kidnapped by was much better about positioning. I'm definitely going to have to give you a negative review."

"This happen to you a lot?" asked the girl. "Where do you even go to review cults? Yelp? What are the criteria?"

"Oh, the usual. Comfort level, sincerity, complexity, effectiveness, originality... I'll give them points for originality, since I'm usually summoned by myself. I mean, I don't summon myself, but I'm the only one summoned."

"No, no, I get it."

The high priest pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew there were spells to shut up summoned spirits, but he needed them talking, for now.

"One of you," he said, "will be King."

"No, we aren't," said the girl. "We just established that."

"Hold up," said the boy. "'Will be?' Not 'are?'"

"You are the contenders for the position," said the high priest, with as much authority as he could muster. "You must determine which of you it is to be."

"Well," said the Wisconsin Ghost. "Clearly I am the only suitable option."

"Oh, come on. You have to see he's trying to play us," said Phantom. "We pick one of us, and then that's the one that has to do this 'boon' thing, and they'll turn the rest of us into 'thralls' or whatever."

"Perhaps. But, then, you should have no trouble acknowledging me as King."

"I literally just outlined why I would have trouble doing that."

"What does 'thrall' mean, anyway?" asked the girl.

"Like, slave or something. I don't know. It was in a song that S- uh, a friend likes."

Obviously, they weren't going to cooperate. The high priest would have to get more serious. "Fetch the water of life," he ordered, pointing at Lance Thunder. It would do the junior practitioner good to remember who was in charge.

The man scurried off, light from the next room briefly spilling past the doorway.

"Isn't that vodka?" asked the girl. "Like, alcohol?"

"I don't know. Ask this guy. Reminds me of a sci-fi thing, though."

"What about this situation is sci-fi? I'm not up on genres, but, still, this has to be horror."

"Or humor, yeah."

"Oooh, burn."

"If you two are quite done," said the Wisconsin Ghost. "Perhaps you might share your plan to get out of this mess."

"You don't have a plan," said Phantom, "you have a power grab. A really dumb one, that won't work, just like all the other ones."

"He's got a point, though. How do we get out of these ropes?"

"No idea."

"I thought you did this all the time."

"Not this specific variation," protested Phantom. "None of the others had this glow-y rope thing going on. They don't exactly feel like real ropes, though, if you get me. A human could probably put their hand right through them."

"Wonderful, Daniel, but that isn't exactly something we can take advantage of, is it?"

"I'm just pointing it out, you don't have to be a jerk about it," said Phantom. He shifted again, very deliberately putting his feet in the older ghost's face.

"Daniel, stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Weren't you complaining about being enslaved a moment ago?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm totally on that. Got it covered," said Phantom.

"What do you mean, you have it covered?" said the high priest, aggravated by the constant banter. "You can't possibly believe you're getting out of this. This circle was designed to hold the King of All Ghosts!"

"Sure," drawled Phantom, "and government was designed to keep things in order, but it doesn't do a particularly good job of that, does it? Not to mention, you got three for the price of one, here. Ghost King is pretty singular, generally."

The high priest let his eyes flick over the circle and the bonds. Nothing was out of place. Everything was secure.

"Also, I'm pretty sure Mr. Thunder bailed on you, dude."

"Yeah," said the girl, "unless this house is way bigger than it has any reason to be. Even bigger than Vlad's."

"Or if he can't find it, I guess."

"Or if he has to buy it from the nearest liquor store."

"Nice. Hey, guess what, guys? If any of you want to bail, now's your chance." Phantom smiled, showing off a set of too-sharp teeth.

"No one is going anywhere," snarled the high priest. Lance Thunder had been gone for much longer than he should have been, however. He frowned at the door.

"Oh, hey, I got the blood," announced Phantom.

"I'm sorry," said the girl, "you got what?"

"The blood. I knew there was some on here. I saw it before. Really dumb leaving it out like this, you know. There's lots of stuff people like us can do with blood. It's way better than hair."

"Daniel, are you implying that you know magic?" said the Wisconsin Ghost, completely incredulous.

"That's the part of this situation you're having trouble with? But, yeah. Enough to screw with cultists who don't understand the meaning of 'personal space' or 'bio-hazard' and leave their stupid blood everywhere."

"You're going to have to teach me," said the girl.

"My friend, you know the one, is way better than me."

"That makes sense. So, are you going to blow him up?"

"I was thinking about it, but that would leave all the other guys."

"Not if you made the explosion big enough."

"That's true, but I was thinking about maybe turning him into, like, a werewolf or something. Have him tear apart all these other guys. I did say you could bail, it isn't my fault you've stu-"

"You can't do that!" snapped the high priest. "He can't do that. He's trying to trick you into letting him go free."

"Are you sure about that? I'm a ghost after all. I'm old enough to have seen Rome burn. I know more than you, even if I like playing the teenager. It makes people underestimate me." Phantom's lazy smile turned sinister. "Don't you feel what I'm already doing to you? To all of you. You could still escape," his voice buzzed uncomfortably. "All you need to do is let us go."

A few of the practitioners shifted.

"Don't-" started the high priest.

It was too late. One of the others had darted forward and upended a candle. Wax spilled over the clean chalk lines, breaking them, obscuring them. The lights flickered. The ghosts were gone.

.

"You don't actually know any magic," stated Vlad as they hovered over the house.

Danny rolled his eyes. "I know enough to scam a cultist," he said. "But, if you're asking if I could do what I was saying? Nope."

"Aw, that's too bad," said Ellie. "I was excited."

"Clever, I suppose," admitted Vlad. "But this doesn't resolve our previous business. Which of us is King?"

"Oh my gosh, Vlad, let it go," said Danny.

"I can't do that. This is a very important matter, not that a child like you would understand." Pink sparks leaped from his fingertips.

The other two ghosts drifted back, their dropping body temperatures making mist condense from the air around them.

"Well," said Ellie, "I'm not sure that it counts for anything, but I nominate Danny. Full offence, Vlad, but you suck."

There was a tiny popping sound, very like the sound a tiny firework might make, and a green and glowing crown expanded into being above Danny's head. All three ghosts stared at it for a minute. Danny was practically gaping.

"Oh," said Ellie after a moment. "I guess it does count."

Danny made a very strangled sound before diving out of the way of Vlad's attack. Ellie responded with a ghost ray of her own. The chase was on, and soon they had left the mansion far behind.

[everyone-has-their-story]

Season 3 episode 7 commentary with my sister:

So since this show is so different do they not do the bipolar storyline? Does Sander have a different a secret?

Episode 6 commentary

Oooo a Milan and Zoe night in? I wanna join 

Whatcha need Senne for?

Yikes, way to kill the mood Robbe

He’s sure, Jens is sure, I’m sure, we are all sure…(zoe asked if he’s sure it was Viktor)

He looked you up in the yellow pages

Yo Viktor you better hope you don’t see Senne

Ughhh Zoe! I see your communication skills with Senne haven’t improved

This is going to end greeeeat

Jens is finally caring and-- oh damnit not these dickheads

Whattt? Tell me what it is!

WHAT?! (mural)

HOLY SHITTTTTT!!! WHAT IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK!?

Moyo you are ruining this for me in so many ways!

Sander I said you could use my wall, but this works too!

Moyo fuck off

Oh yeah! Noor can do it, she didn’t but she could

His face is showing 100 different emotions right now

That look between Jens and Robbe is making me like Jens more these days..

I have read nothing that the boys are saying...I’m focused on Robbe’s face..

He looks so conflicted

Oh shit the close up! It's so good!! But also...LOL to that actor!!

Ofc they posted it on instagram..

Dude Senne YOU’VE had better days?? Try being Robbe..

Oooo secrets!

Sander’s lack of subtlety in his love for Robbe is admirable

Don’t act surprised..everyone needs your advice Milan

Go. Sit. Talk. 

I know I’m going to dislike this conversation, but I live for their talks

Noooo, it’s not your fault!!

Sorry Milan, but you don’t date someone for 6 months, meet a random dude and paint his face on a fucking wall if you just want him as your side piece

I get that it’s common, but not this situation

Sad Robbe making an appearance yet again

You have a visitor!

Nevermind..No visitors! We’re closed!!

Go. Away. Viktor!!

Sought help? Bitch please…

Bite me, Viktor...Senne use the knife

10/10 on this speech

DON’T LOOK AT HER!!

Nooooo sad Zoenne!

Why is this the saddest but happiest season?

Awww that’s a cute hug

Why are you texting Noor?

These boys need to stop fucking talking

Yes, Jens!! Yes!

Oh shit they really doing this

Again..the looks between Jens and Robbe are great

He said it!

Fuck you guys!!!!!

GROSS???? BITCH WHAT?

Yes Jens!!

Yes Robbe!

Noooooooo that is not what he needed!

Pause it! I should probably rewatch the scene, but I’ll do that later...I kinda got a different vibe from Aaron, like Moyo is a dick, but Aaron just kinda seems like a clueless dude who doesn’t know wtf to do. And I am seriously liking Jens more and more..why couldn’t he have been like this all season? You’re not listening to me, are you? *presses play*

I hope he is pretending that dartboard is Moyo’s face

Fuck them, Robbe!

Yes look at your new friends Robbe! Milan is great!

Aww he is a cutie, huh Milan?

Oh awesome more Zoenne fighting...I have a lot going on right now, so can y’all stop. Thanks, bye.

Milan and Robbe are like “ah the parents are fighting!”

Idk all the fighting might say otherwise, but you do you Zoe

Aw Zoe feels left out!

Tell her!!

Hahahah Milan! 

*laughs* Zoe!!! (Zoe thinking Milan and Robbe are a thing)

Milan feeling butthurt hahaha

Yes! Zoe and Robbe talking about Sander!

Wait what!! Nooo, open the door!! Rude...

Yasmina and Luca!! My girls!

Why is Aaron there?

Jfc Amber mind your business

I love Luca so much

Oh damn, Luca..

HE SAID YES!! I love that (when asked if he is gay)

Hahahaha Luca it’s okay girl, we get it

Awkward…

The other two were fucking assholes,that's what they were

The judgement on the girls’ faces at Aaron, same!

Oh sweet jesus Aaron stop talking…

Put the boy out of his misery...someone save him 

Slow down with your rainbows for a minute Luca

Also...wtf are they talking about? What website?

**air high fives** me too!

Ahhh shit moyo’s back…

No, don’t go over there!

I’m uncomfortable, anyone else uncomfortable?

Aaron what?! He literally JUST told you he was gay...wtf dude

Look at him being educated about pansexuals

Even Jens is impressed

Moyo... WHY?! WHYYY?! 

The mural!!

Wait..he CAN ride a skateboard!! Good to know

Jens your friendship score is improving

Sander your boyfriend score is decreasing

Your instagram..wish I could see it…**gives me a dirty look**

Yes, I do (jens asks if he still loves him)

Oh you were asking Robbe..

Ahh the ultimatum! Jens NOW you are the matchmaker! 

Idk if Robbe can handle any more pain

Yes, he does! You’re right Jens!

21:21!!!

Wait but he didn’t answer?

SANDER!!

I’m not sure which way this is going to go…

Sander use your words..come on!

Wow this song isn’t fucking with me at all

**slams the pause button** Did this bitch just drop the universe line with the 100%?? I know they use “100%” all the time on this show but this hits different...Smooth, Sander, so smooth. *presses play*

Oh thank god!

Oh shit...maybe move in-- nevermind y’all made it into the flat

The contrast between this time and with Noor...Robbe is like actually participating

Why does this make me emotional? Why am I like this?

Yes, shoes, important

**cackles** omg they are fucking adorable

Robbe! I didn’t know you had it in you!! (the iconic nipple lick)

Boy you really leveled up!

Damn this song is something else

His face here compared to with Noor..I can’t..

Holding hands? I’m fine..totally fine..

This is so well done, like literally everything about this is so well done

I’m sorry for repeating myself but they have great chemistry...other couples don’t compare..and there may have been very minimal speaking but I felt like they both said so much

Thank fucking christ we ended on a happy note!

[allnewalldifferentwildspider]

The OTHER Little Witch Academia Manga

So I was going through the Little Witch Academia wiki and saw that there was an entry on Akko’s parents. There was even a picture of the from the manga. I was like, “What the H? I have all three volumes of the manga and have never seen them.” A few google searches later, turns out that there is another Little Witch Academia manga. This one is only one volume and has five chapters. It was a quick read and I have...mixed feelings about it. Before I go chapter by chapter, here’s a few notes I have about the manga overall:

also MAJOR SPOILERS

I don’t like the art on Akko. I understand that Akko is supposed to be (for lack of a better term) the dumb one of the group, but that doesn’t mean you have to draw her dead eyed with her jaw just hanging open. It’s weird and creepy. There are several panels where Akko is just staring off into space with her mouth open. It’s weird because there are several times where the artist draws characters like Chariot, Diana, and Lotte to look really attractive. So why draw Akko looking like Patrick Star? Gross, dude.

I don’t like the characterization on Diana. In the OVA’s Diana was haughty, but she could back up her arrogance. She always did end up getting swept into whatever Akko was doing. In the Netflix series, they played it up like it was tough love. Like she’s getting after Akko for her own good. In the manga, it’s a little of both. She doesn’t hate Akko, but she does get annoyed at whatever misadventure she gets wrapped up in. In this manga, she’s more of a bitch. There’s a really sad scene in chapter two and she’s smiling the entire time. She’s always doing that anime “fu fu fu” laugh. She even tricked Akko into thinking she set her on fire. I’m a big time diakko shipper so I was not happy with this.

Changing the origin. Maybe I should get into specifics for this one:

CHAPTER ONE:

That’s the first panel up there. That’s what we start with. Not a good start and it doesn’t get any better. It starts with Akko getting her acceptance letter and then she’s at Luna Nova in the next page. No Shiny Rod. No Forest of Arcturus. She’s introduced to Lotte and Sucy by walking down the hallway. I guess the other way was too exciting. Diana is there and she’s pissed at Akko for yawning during her speech at the entrance ceremony. Little Witch Academia everybody!

CHAPTER TWO: 

Is actually very good. It’s a real tearjerker and could easily fit anywhere in the LWA canon. Everyone is making golems in class. You’re supposed to destroy them right after you use them, but Akko thinks it’s cruel so she keeps hers. Time passes and the golem (named Lemmy) gets bigger and smarter with Akko even teaching him the alphabet. However, she can’t do any of her assignments even worse than usual. The reason why witches destroy the golems right after they use them is because they’re powered by the witch’s magical energy. Since Lemmy is still around, it’s draining her of her magical energy. Lemmy messes up their room and runs away after growing larger. Akko finds him at night and gives him a notebook saying wherever he goes he can always write to her. Diana and her friends show up to mock Akko (because in this continuity she’s a huge bitch) and the golem attacks them. Akko reluctantly destroys Lemmy. Sucy believes Lemmy did it on purpose to help Akko. The chapter ends with Akko finding Lemmy’s notebook with a drawing of them together that says “MAGICAL STAR AKKO LEMY.” Then Akko starts crying and so did I. And now I’m crying again. Oh god.

CHAPTER THREE:

Is actually pretty funny. Akko discovers that Shiny Chariot’s costume is up for sale on an online auction and tries to borrow money from everyone to buy it. Diana is curious why Akko needs so much money and discovers the auction. She tries to buy the costume herself and because she’s rich, she can always just up the bid every time.

Professor Ursula overhears about the auction and checks her closet to find that her stage outfit is right there, so it can’t possibly for sale. She even puts it on. SPOILER: It’s tight. She calls her old production company to ask if they’ve ever sold a copy of her outfit and they discover the pattern has been stolen.

Akko and Diana track down the original seller and discover he’s the guy who stole the pattern so he can sell knockoff Chariot costumes. They take him down (after a very tasteless joke of the old man grabbing Diana’s ass. Piece of shit) and Ursula takes back the pattern without anyone knowing.

CHAPTER FOUR:

I don’t like chapter four. Chapter four is actually about Sucy and Lotte. They go to Sucy’s home in the Philippines and Akko stays behind because she’s Akko and has a bunch of make up assignments to do. Sucy’s mom has called her back home to choose a familiar. Her sisters try to help her but merge with this magical beast and Sucy tricks them into splitting up. Whatever. Nothing special. There is just one itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini of a problem:

SUCY WAS ADOPTED

The creator of LWA and the good manga (because that’s what I’m calling it now) both say that Sucy was adopted. She doesn’t have a mom that looks exactly like her just with big tits and she doesn’t have little sisters that looks exactly like her but smaller. Two out of three falls says Sucy was adopted. This entire chapter is flawed.

CHAPTER FIVE:

Is kinda weird. Akko, Sucy and Lotte are having lunch. Lotte says she doesn’t like fish and Akko blames the cafeteria food. They go out to the lake to catch some fish so Akko can make sushi. A giant fish attacks them and Lotte uses a spirit to move a sunken pirate ship to kill the fish. Akko takes it and makes sushi. Akko and Sucy don’t like it, but Lotte loves it until she realizes that it was a giant fish so there is a lot of fish to eat.

Overall, I really didn’t like this one. I can see why they stopped at five chapters. If I had to grade this by stars, it would be one star for chapter two but take away a quarter for making Diana a bitch. Same for chapter three. I liked it but take away a quarter for making Diana a bitch. Total 1.5/5.

Let’s hope the light novel will be good.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

Ghosts of War: Chapter 19

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: After the events of Winter’s War, your and Bucky’s lives are changed forever (and not for the better). Severe torture and experimentation at the hands of Hydra leaves you shells of your former selves, your past together completely erased and replaced with deadly Hydra programming. Bucky asks you to do the unthinkable. You try your best to make money for the two of you to survive. Meanwhile, dark forces lurk in the shadows. Warnings: Swearing (always), suicide pact**, talk of suicide**, murder, death, violence, blood, guns, torture Word Count: ~4,060 A/N: oh shit boiiii. This chapter is a tough one. Don’t read it if you’re in a dark headspace my dudes.

Masterlist // Book One

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Bucky ran a hand through your hair and shushed you. “No… but we did it, Doll. We did all of it,” he said gently. You didn’t sob or hiccup or gasp, but he somehow knew you’d begun crying. He leaned back to peer down at you then wiped away your tears with his right thumb. He placed kisses to each of your cheeks then hugged you back to his chest. “Let it out, Doll… no use bottlin’ it up. Not with me.”

You weren’t sure how long you cried in Bucky’s arms. You weren’t sure if he cried with you.

All you knew was that when you woke up the next morning with Bucky asleep by your side and daylight shining through the yellowed newspapers, the world didn’t feel quite so terrible as it did when you’d gone to sleep.

“Did you know about this?” you asked, dropping the stack of xeroxed papers onto Bucky’s lap. You were visiting him down at the docks between your shifts, during his short lunch break.

Normally you would have gone back to the apartment to avoid being out in public, but you’d been evicted not even a day ago. Multiple noise complaints from surrounding tenants prompted the landlord to kick you and Bucky out without a second thought, not that you could blame him. Between your and Bucky’s nightmares and the fact that you didn’t have proper paperwork, you were too much of a liability. Until you found a new place to live, you’d crash at different flophouses every night. Working would be tough until then, but both you and Bucky were determined to live some semblance of a normal life.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you and leafed dutifully through the pages, eyebrows raising slowly as he read until you were sure they’d disappear into his hairline. By the time he was finished he had a small smile on his face that you couldn’t help but mirror. “I had no idea. I mean, I’d noticed there weren’t signs everywhere anymore, but I never imagined they’d actually do it... I’d always hoped, but...”

You smiled and took his head. “We were almost awake for it, too. It was in 1964. Do you think Gabe took part in the sit-ins and marches?” you asked, resting your head lightly on his shoulder. It was his metal one, but he had enough padding on between his jacket and shirt that it was still comfortable.

Bucky made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “Dunno. Wouldn’t surprise me. If he did, I’m sure Dum Dum joined him in a show of solidarity.”

You nodded. “I can see that. I would have liked to hear Doctor King’s speech. I can’t find a full recording of it anywhere.”

Bucky nodded in commiseration. “Seemed like a good man.”

For a short while the two of you sat in silence, Bucky munching quietly away at a bowl of rice. “Is it bad that I’m relieved we weren’t the ones to pull the trigger for once?”

Bucky paused and swallowed thickly before setting the bowl down beside him on the bench and threw his arm around your shoulder, reeling you easily into his chest. “No, Doll. I know I’m pretty messed up in the head, but even I know we’re supposed to not enjoy killin’ people,” he said quietly, lips brushing light kisses to your hair.

You nodded slowly, thoughts drifting to dark places unbidden. You didn’t have much time left together; his break would be ending soon. 

“If they ever try to take me again, kill me.”

You looked up, startled by Bucky’s sudden words. “What?” you breathed, not wanting to believe your ears.

He looked at you then, his blue eyes cold and sad. “You heard me, Doll.”

“I can’t do that, Bucky,” you said, distressed.

He took your hands in his and suddenly that icy wall behind his eyes gave way to fiery passion. “You gotta, Doll. If they come for us you, gotta put a bullet in my head. Fry me. I don’t care. I can’t go back, (Y/N),” he pleaded, voice strained.

You gaped at him for a minute, unsure of what to say as tears filled your eyes. “You’re askin’ too much of me, Buck,” you whimpered.

Bucky pulled you into his chest and ran his big hand down your back soothingly. “I know, Doll. I know. But I don’t have a kill switch like you do. You can fry yourself, but if they get me pinned, I won’t be able to do anythin’. I can’t go back to bein’ their puppet, Sweetheart. Please, promise me,” he said fervently, refusing to back down.

It broke your heart, but you eventually nodded past the tears and hiccuping sobs. “Me too,” you managed to squeak out between sobs.

Bucky didn’t have to ask what you meant, he knew. He nodded silently and ran his fingers through your hair, his lips placing kisses to any spot on your face he could reach. “I love you, Doll,” he said quietly.

“I love you, too, Buck,” you said hoarsely.

“Oi, Hanson! Get your ass back to work! Break ended ten minutes ago and I ain’t paying you to sit around and kiss your girlfriend, ya damn flower child!”

The voice of Bucky’s boss echoed between the shipping containers and Bucky let out a long sigh. “Gotta get back to work, Doll,” he said, apologetic frown on his face.

“S’ok. Gotta get to my next job anyway,” you sniffled, clambering off of his lap reluctantly.

He stood as soon as he was able and pulled you in for a quick, chaste kiss on the lips that still managed to leave you breathless. “I’ll see you at the flophouse later, (Y/N). Have a good afternoon at work, alright Sweetheart?” he said with a small smile, as though you hadn’t just promised to kill him if the Soviets or Hydra came after you.

You put on a brave smile and pecked him once more on the cheek before handing him his unfinished lunch and the stack of papers on the Civil Rights Movement. “You too, Buck.”

You turned and walked briskly back towards the center of town, willing yourself not to cry.

Life wasn’t fair. You knew that from a young age. Ever since your parents dropped you off at the orphanage in Queens. Ever since you were rejected again and again from school after school just because you were a woman. When military leaders didn’t so much as give you a polite rejection when you tried to show them your designs. Hell, you never even made it past the secretaries most days. Even after meeting Peggy and finally getting your foot in the door, you still remained in Howard’s shadow. Howard himself may not have treated you badly, but no matter how hard he tried to give you credit for what you did, no one seemed to care.

And then, for that shining year and handful of months with the guys, everything had been a whirlwind. You got attention and praise as the only woman in the Howling Commandos. They made dolls of you, interviewed you with Steve and Bucky. People knew you were Bucky’s best girl and Steve’s friend. Everyone recognized your genius.

But then you fell off the train with Bucky and everything regressed to a new level of shit-tastic. You were put through hell and back and the fact you could walk down the street without murdering everyone in sight was to be praised. There were still some days where you couldn’t remember your name. Sometimes you called Bucky the Asset or the Soldier. He had his bad days, too, where he retreated in on himself until his eyes were hard and uncaring and you knew he didn’t see the world around him.

Bucky blamed himself for every death you and he dealt out while brainwashed by the Soviets and Hydra. He wrote down every name he could remember in a tiny notebook and took it with him everywhere.

You didn’t add to the names. You didn’t want to think about everyone you’d killed. You only added one name to the list: Mary Douglas. She was the only death you felt truly responsible for. Even Mila hadn’t been your fault, though you still mourned your inability to protect her to this day.

You arrived at the old abandoned-looking school building quicker than you realized, lost in thought as you were. The grafitti-covered sign for “Mother Josephine’s School for Wayward Children” swayed gently in the wind, the thick and once-beautifully carved sign barely hanging on by its nails. You glanced up and down the street before wiggling between a gap in the chain-link fence and made a beeline for the door in the back that you knew would be unlocked.

The door creaked loudly as you opened it and you quickly stepped inside before someone saw you. The first few hallways were dim, lit only by the meager light filtering in through the old, grimy windows. You didn’t have any trouble seeing, but it still set your nerves on edge. There were too many places to hide in this old death trap, but you'd run out of options some time ago.

You found the door to the basement with ease, having memorized the layout of the building off some old blueprints you’d found in the library before you’d showed up the first time. It also helped that you’d been here a few times already. You pulled your hat low over your eyes and made sure your boots and gloves hid your... enhancements.

The moment the door to the basement swung open, you were bathed in light. You took a deep breath and made your way down the creaky steps, half expecting them to give out under your weight. Metal limbs weren’t exactly light.

A dozen heads turned towards you the moment you took the last step off the stairs and only about half turned back to their conversations or drinks after looking their fill. You ignored them all and went up to the bar, taking a seat on one of the rickety stools.

“What do you got for me, Patch?” you asked in undertones.

Patch slid you a sealed beer, knowing full well you wouldn’t drink anything that could have possibly been tampered with. “Not much, little lady,” Patch said apologetically. “Not many of the jobs I have in right now are suitable for a single person... gifted though you may be,” Patch said quickly, seeing the look on your face.

“I can handle it, Patch. Tell me what jobs are in right now, please,” you said through gritted teeth before snapping the bottle cap off with one of your metal fingers and taking a long sip.

Patch sighed. “Couple of assassinations, mostly hits on goody-two-shoes that the Mob or Yakuza want dead but are unwilling to risk pinning on themselves. A guard detail, couple nights, needs a group to escort an entire convoy. A burglary of an old fat cat-”

“That one.”

Patch sighed and scratched his neck in the way he did whenever he was nervous. You didn’t think much of it; Patch was always nervous. “Knew you’d take that one. I gotta warn ya, little lady, that old man’s not someone you wanna tango with. He’s got top notch security and-”

“How much?” you asked, cutting across him again. He never second-guessed the other patrons like this and it grated on your nerves.

Patch let out a sigh, knowing he’d lose this fight as soon as he said the words. “$3,000.”

You let out a low whistle. “What’s the target? Vault? Jewels? Antiques?” you asked, interested in why someone would pay $3,000 to steal from a single house. Whatever they wanted had to be worth a lot.

Patch let out a sigh. “You know the deal. Details are in the card, can’t just tell everyone or there’ll be-”

“Problems, in-fighting, stupid shit. Yeah, I know, Patch. I’ll take it, whatever it is. I can handle it,” you said, thinking perhaps you cut across the man too much. You really, really hated being coddled though. Pissed you off to no end.

Patch gave you a long, flat stare before he sighed in defeat and reached for the stack of cards behind the bar and flipped through them until he found the right one. He held it out to you but pulled it back right as you were about to grab it. You glowered up at him but he didn’t even flinch. “Be careful, little lady. I like havin’ ya around and I know you’ll never see the light of day again if you get caught by this guy.” You would have snapped at him but his tone was nothing but sincere. You stared at him, caught off guard, before nodding slowly.

“I will, Patch.”

He still didn’t look happy, but relented and handed you the card. “You know the drill. Call the number. Complete the job. Return for the reward.”

You downed the last of the beer and slapped two dollars on the table. Sure, it was a bit much, but you were about to be rich. With that kind of reward you and Bucky could move into a nice apartment and not have to worry about money for a while.

Bucky.

You should tell him about this second job. You told him you worked at a bank crunching numbers all day, but you had a feeling he didn’t quite believe you. Still, he didn’t want to outright question you, so he kept his mouth shut, knowing you’d tell him when you were ready.

Being a mercenary/burglar-for-hire hadn’t exactly been the plan, but your skill set made you over-qualified and very, very good at it. This wasn’t the end-game, but you and Bucky needed the money right now, so you weren’t going to be picky.

You returned to the flop house and left a note for him at the front desk, saying you’d gotten a shift at a bar and that you’d be back very late or very early tomorrow morning and not to wait up. You didn’t want to leave him alone, knowing full well he barely slept when you weren’t there, but it’d be better to pull the heist off at night. You checked the charge in your back capacitors and, satisfied they’d last the night, began prepping for the operation.

Wrong.

Everything was wrong.

When you arrived at the house you were supposed to rob, it was almost completely empty. You hadn’t made it more than ten feet inside before you turned on your heel and ran back out the front door, only to find it blocked by at least a dozen agents decked out in combat gear.

Trap. It was a trap.

By the time you fought through the agents that had boxed you in, you’d taken at least three gunshots to the body and your left thigh was leaking blood all over the place from a knife cut. You could hear more agents surrounding the building, but you wouldn’t sit around and let yourself get trapped by these bastards. You still didn’t even know who they were working for, but that was something you’d find out later. New York wasn’t safe anymore. You had to get back to Bucky and escape before they tightened the noose.

For the first time in at least two weeks you activated your heel jets. The familiar feeling of your razor-sharp wheels popping into place sent a chill up your spine. Your hearing may not have been as advanced as Bucky’s but you were still able to pinpoint where most of the troops were coming from.

Swearing in your head you turned your jets on full blast and rocketed out the doorway, wincing as you felt gunfire hot on your tail.

You rounded the corner and took a small breath. You weren’t out of the woods yet, not by a long shot. Your stupidity had gotten your cover blown, but you doubted they’d found Bucky yet. If you could make it to him after losing these clowns, the two of you could be out of the city before they could sniff you out.

You heard Majorca was nice this time of year.

You took back alleys that you knew the military vehicles were too large to fit through, gave them the slip under bridges, and eventually made your way towards the flophouse in Brooklyn, praying you weren’t leading them straight to an unsuspecting Bucky.

You turned the corner and let out a sigh of relief when you spotted the building, only to scream in rage when you saw Bucky being dragged out by at least six agents in civilian police clothing. He was fighting against them, but they’d attached something to his arm and you could tell he was struggling to break it. From the way he was moving you wouldn’t be surprised if they’d drugged him already.

You raced forward more quickly than they could have anticipated and jumped, letting your momentum carry you forward as you switched from your wheels to your talons. A flying kick both maimed the first man and sent him hurtling over the nearest police cruiser.

“Fuck, get her! She’s insane!”

“They must have failed! Call for backup!”

You barely heard their voices, working through the throng of obviously-not-cops towards Bucky, who was looking at you with huge, pleading eyes.

“No!” you screamed at him, knowing what he was thinking. You always knew what he was thinking.

Please, you saw him mouth. His eyes were already going hazy. Whatever they’d given him must have been strong. The chances of you getting out of here with him knocked out before their backup arrived... they were nonexistent.

I love you, you saw him whisper before his head dropped forward.

You were crying as you ripped through the poor fools between you and Bucky. Still more seemed to stream out of who knew where, but you had a mission and you weren’t going to fail. You couldn’t let him down him. Not in this way.

Just one touch. Just one. Then me. Then it’s over.

You told repeated those words in your head over and over again and you punched, scratched, and kicked your ways towards Bucky’s limp body. They’d left him in the street in their attempt to stop you from getting to him. You were an unstoppable force. You could feel more bullets rip through you, but it didn’t matter. None of it matter as long as you could get to him.

Finally, there was only a few feet between him and you. You charged your right hand, tears overflowing as you looked down at the limp, unconscious form of the man you loved. It was a small mercy that he wouldn’t feel a thing.

You wouldn’t be so lucky.

The agents tried to stop you, only to electrocute themselves to death when they grabbed your arm.

You were so focused on making this one blow to your beloved count that you didn’t see the battering ram headed toward you until it was too late.

You felt your bones break on the impact and your lungs collapse as you flew ten feet through the air and landed on the cold cement road. Your head hit the concrete hard, your vision blurring dangerously with the mix of what was likely a concussion and massive blood loss. Your charge fizzled out in your hand and you cursed to yourself.

On your feet. Get on your feet. You useless piece of shit. You swore to yourself, trying and failing to pull yourself to your feet.

You got as far as leaning up on your hands and screaming in agony before they descended upon you like vultures. You barely felt the pinch of the needle being shoved into your neck; it paled in comparison to your other wounds.

What hurt the most, though, was seeing Bucky lying there, not fifteen feet away, unaware that you’d failed and you’d both wake up trapped in the nightmare you were so desperate to escape.

KGB files, Top Security Clearance, 29 March 1973

Little is known about what Codenames: Winter Soldier did during the two weeks they fell off the grid in New York. It was only through sheer luck that the male was spotted in a flophouse. The woman was spotted by one of our agents at a disreputable spot for mercenaries to gather. Luck. Sheer luck. We tried to lure her into a trap but she escaped, nearly overwhelming the agents that were attempting to take the male back at the same time.

Yet even after subsequent mental conditioning Codenames: Winter Soldier had no answers for their conduct, or any memory of their time out of our control.

While troubling, the incident appears to be an aberration, requiring nothing more than closer watch. It is further recommended that in future missions they be excluded from operations on American soil and deployed separately

KGB files, Top Security Clearance, September 1983 From the Personal Journal of Major General IIIIIIIREDACTEDIIIIIIII

Against advice, I have taken Codename: Winter Soldier to the Middle East as my personal bodyguard. I am getting old and I know there are only a few years left for me, so I wish to spend them watching this twisted creature defend my life.

I almost feel sorry for him, as he tenses up whenever anyone approaches, ready to dive in front of a bullet for me.

It will never make up for what he and his people did to me in the war, how they shamed me in front of my own men, but even after all these years, it still makes me smile to see Captain America’s partner serving Mother Russia.

It is doubly entertaining to watch him look for his little bitch. I could have thawed them both out and ignored the imbecilic warnings of the others, but it is more fun this way. He is easier to handle when he is sad, even if he doesn’t know why. I can see him looking for her, his eyes following women that resemble her.

Let us see what kind of damage he can do to his country’s efforts in the Middle East. These next few years should be amusing. I am glad that Yuri transferred me. To hell with him.

KGB files, Top Security Clearance, 4 August 1988

In accordance with Major General IIIIIIREDACTEDIIIIII final orders before his death, Project: Winter Soldiers have been returned to cryofreeze for the foreseeable future.

Codename: Winter Soldier (Male) has been placed back into stasis after his years in the Middle East alongside the Major General.

No incidents were reported by the Major General, but it is recommended that if Codename: Winter Soldiers are revived from stasis in future, thorough mental re-implantation be done to assure control of the operatives.

Codename: Winter Soldiers will be stored in an undisclosed location, along with much of Department X’s abandoned experiments.

December 14th, 1991

You sat. Waited for orders. Still as a statue.

You didn’t look at the asset beside you. He wasn’t important unless your handlers said he was.

Your metal legs glinted menacingly in the light, the sickle and hammer on your shins gleaming like blood.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, brain working to clear itself from the sluggishness of cryofreeze. Your body had thawed long before you’d regained consciousness, but it still moved like ice flowed through your veins. It would take a day to return to full functionality. You’d checked yourself over upon waking, taking note of each scar marring your skin.

The door opened after what could have been minutes, hours, or days. Time meant little in the tiny cold room with only a light and two cold tables. Neither you nor the other asset had said a word the entire time.

“Soldiers?” the handler asked, standing warily in the door. He had no cause to be nervous. You and the other asset were dangerous, but you wouldn’t hurt your handlers. His accent was German. Not the KGB, then. Hydra, most likely. You didn’t care, but your brain took note of it anyway. It might be important to the mission later.

“Ready to comply,” you and the other asset replied in unison, voices flat and emotionless.

Next Chapter

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[esseastri]

Megan Reads Oathbringer (part 9)

Happy New Year, y’all.

“Heavy Fuel” by Dire Straits is a punk!Dalinar song, sorry, I don’t make the rules.

Part 9 encompasses pages 666-753 (previous parts)

Pray for the mountain internet, please, that it lets me do this liveblog without dropping tumblr every five minutes.

okay, but Elhokar is drawing a map and I’m suddenly vaguely desperate for Elhokar/Eshonai map buddies.

I s2g every time someone calls him “the bridgeman” I just hiss protectively. HE HAS A NAME

oh snap his baby’s name is Gavinor. that’s... listen bud, your dad doesn’t deserve to have anyone named after him, sorry.

“Nice work, Elhokar.” *Gloryspren* THIS CHILD NEEDS MORE ENCOURAGEMENT, PLS, HELP HIM. BE KIND TO HIM. HUG HIM.

“Storming lighteyes, Veil thought as she watched [the food distribution].” YEAH HON, THAT GOES FOR YOU TOO, NORMALLY.

Okay, no, not quite--Shallan would probably not go so far as to send her servants to get food that could be given to the poor instead of rich people, but like... the principle stands. Shallan does not recognize her own privilege half the time, and I guess?? that “Veil” noticing it... might? be a step in the right direction? But... probably not until she fuses her multiple identities back into one person.

And that doesn’t seem like it’s happening any time soon.

HOID

WHY ARE YOU WEARING SADEAS COLORS? 

aw yis. storytime.

Aight, can Hoid see through Lightweaving, or can he just recognize Shallan by like... her stance and the way she moves or? HOW COOL IS HE, IS WHAT I’M ASKING HERE.

“You look like you could use the opportunity to buy me something to eat.” HOID, PLS.

“I’m not stupid enough to get mixed up in religion again.” Again. Hoid, wth does that mean.

but dear god, Hoid as a Herald would be hilarious.

THE LAST SEVEN TIMES HE’S TRIED IT. WTH, HOID, OH MY GOD.

“The sum total of stupid people is somewhere around the population of the planet. Plus one.” “Plus one?” “Sadeas counts twice.” GOD BLESS, WIT.

wait, so he wasn’t lying about the promise? About “always being there when needed” but not always knowing where or why? hm. Interesting concept. That I kind of love and wish I’d thought of first.

“Who came with you?” “Kaladin, Adolin, Elhokar, some of our servants.” I thiiiink the other bridgemen would take offense at that, but sure. Whatever.

I’m...intensely amused that chapter 69 is titled “Free Meal, No Strings.” Because I’m eleven and crude as fuck.

Idk, Kaladin, they have a point: the world is ending, so you might as well party. You can be miserable and afraid, or you can be partying and afraid. I’d go with the second.

OH OOOHHHHH OH ADOLIN CALLED HIM “KAL” AND I DIED A LITTLE BIT INSIDE

MY BOY’S GOT FRIENDS AGAIN AND HIS FRIENDS ARE ADOLIN AND I’M CRY

(but dear god, the Kadolin is real)

Also, Adolin being stupidly happy about getting a new wardrobe is giving me life, I LOVE THIS RIDICULOUS FASHION BOY

HEHEHEH Adolin is going to bring Skar and Drehy pastries from the lighteyes party, that’S SO CUTE I LOVE THIS

“What?” “What what?” “You’re going drinking with bridgemen?” “Sure. Skar, Drehy, and I go way back.” “We spent some time keeping His Highness from falling into chasms.” I’M LIVING MY CROPS ARE FLOURISHING MY SKIN IS CLEAR THIS IS ALL I EVER WANTED THIS IS THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO ME I LOVE THIS I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS.

“He felt good lots of days. Trouble was, on the bad days, that was hard to remember. At those times, for some reason, he felt like he had always been in darkness, and always would be. Why was it so hard to remember? Did he have to keep slipping back down? Why couldn’t he stay up here in the sunlight, where everyone else lived?”

The Megan-and-Kaladin-Think-the-Same-Exact-Way-and-It’s-Both-Comforting-and-Terrifying Trend continues. 

Sometimes people ask me why he’s my favorite and I just. Have literally never related more strongly to another person ever, real life or fictional. It’s wild.

ADOLIN COMING TO CHECK ON KALADIN WHEN HE FALLS BEHIND WORRYING.

THERE IS TOO MUCH. STORMING. KADOLIN. IN THIS BOOK.

I love that the phrase “and you’re lighteyed today” is a normal thing now. That it changes and he can just. change it. and they’ve all accepted it. I love it.

PUNCHY GUYS.

IT’S THE ACADEMIC TERM

SWORDY FELLOWS OR SPEARISH CHAPS. AXALACIOUS BLOKE.

bless these two nerds

“Adolin Kholin was simply a good person. Powder-blue clothing and all. You couldn’t hate a man like him; storms, you kind of had to like him.”

YOU REALLY REALLY DO. He’s infectious, this sunlight boy. And I adore him.

oh no

“Should have just gone to the party” YES YES YOU SHOULD HAVE. I’M WORRY.

also, why did the illusion wear off????? Shallan, what you do?

“The stew didn’t smell anywhere near as good as Rock’s.” HEHEH Nothing does, I’m sure.

I loooooove that Kaladin gets to tell the truth about Amaram now. Drag him, my boy.

the over-friendly wall guards are makin me nervous

I’m sure there are some good men here, and a lot of good soldiers, but... who are they and where did they come from and why are they all lighteyes and.... I have sooo many questions.

......I don’t remember if the squires’ eyes turn light when they’ve been flying with Kaladin.

I don’t think they do, but I don’t remember, and now I’m thinking...maybe the highmarshal is. some kind of Radiant whose squires are all...lighteyes?

hm

AAHH!!!!??? AAAHH!!???? A LADY SHARDBEARER!!!!!?? A LADY!!!!

Okay. That was a pretty dang good speech.

But who is shhheeee

Is she a radiant or is that an Honorblade???

Mmmmmm, Kaladin also thinks she’s a Radiant, but WHICH KIND? If she’s got a bunch of squires, it could be Windrunner, but... dangit, I just... really want to meet a Stoneward.

“In every way, she was the perfect Alethi wife--and her unhappiness crushed his soul.” IT SHOULD. SHE DESERVES BETTER.

I’m reaaaally glad that Evi recognized the Thrill as a bad thing. A monster crouching in her husband’s body.

“...the Thrill was your reward.” Reward? Dalinar, listen to your wife. Please. That is not a reward.

Dalinar, look at you go. You did try this before, the talking thing. You are talking to this angry kiddo, and you’re bad at it, but you’re trying. This isn’t very punk!Dalinar of you. I like it. I can see the bits of presentday!Dalinar poking through the Thrill-encrusted shell of punk!Dalinar. I like it.

This is such interesting character movement, gaahh.

Evi still deserves better though. “Because of a good woman’s tears” ugh the fridge doors are slowly swinging shut, aren’t they?

whhhhhhhhaaaaat

I mean, I’m not surprised, because it’s Sadeas and he’s Sadeas and of course he’s a fucking traitor, but

whhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaat

...........gross.

Shallan needs to stop getting killed, please. This is really gross.

NO, DON’T TRY TO TALK WITH A CROSSBOW BOLT IN YOUR FACE PLEASE THIS IS REALLY UNNECESSARY

I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS LEVEL OF HORROR NOVEL PLEASE TAKE IT BACK, BRANDON.

Kaladin “Good at Making Friends” Stormblessed being all sheepish at making friends easily when it took so much effort to make friends with Bridge Four, like... listen, buddy. YOU are excellent at making friends and these guys were all ready to be friends with you. The Bridge was not ready and you had to wear them down with your charm, and you did, and doesn’t that make it all the more precious that you are friends with them?

Also, I miss them. Are my boys okay, Brandon? How are they doing?

omg, Adolin, pls. Yellow?

The Wall Guards making fun of Adolin’s new wardrobe is DELIGHTFUL.

Kaladin: HELLO, FELLOW LIGHTEYES, FOR I AM SURELY A LIGHTEYES, YES INDEEDY, LOOK AT MY VERY LIGHT EYES.

Hi, I love Kaladin, I am not sure you know this about me.

“Yes, his suit was a little bright--but if they would merely spend five minutes talking to him, they’d see he wasn’t so bad.”

Kaladin.

Babe.

You’ve come. So. Far.

I’m so proud of him, oh my god.  

mmmm this food shipment stuff is so weeeiiirrd. where is it coming from? why is it going?? uuugghhhhh

Part of me is like, “I love that they call Azure ‘sir’ and use male pronouns because there is no gender on the battlefield! Everyone gets treated equal!” and most of me is like “fuck this, she’s a fucking lady in command and she deserves to be known.”

also, wtf, she had them attack a monastery? Okay, I get it, you want to control the Soulcaster, but like.... you didn’t just go in there a kill a buncha monks for it, did you?

OKAY, SO MAYBE IT IS AN HONORBLADE THAT WAS DEF MY THOUGHT

but which one.

We have the Skybreaker one.......so whose is this?

Unless it’s not.

I’m

confused. and worried.

Tell me things, Brandon!

OH. But then she wouldn’t need the Soulcaster...if she had an Honorblade for Soulcasting... so she went and got the Soulcaster to...keep up appearances? Hm.

....is it awkward that Stormlight Archive has, so far, been the story of several people slowly becoming atheist (Jasnah, Dalinar) or agnostic (Kaladin) as their lives fall to pieces around them and they slowly rebuild?

Kaladin is a Good, guys.

The best.

omg, okay, but the Swiftspren is just.... LISTEN, BRANDON, YOU CAN’T GO MAKING SHALLAN A ROBIN HOOD. DON’T DO ME LIKE THIS.

I feel so bad for Elhokar.

Buddy just needs some hugs, okay.

Okay, I know logically that Roshar is Bad At Horses, but somehow it never occurred to me that they wouldn’t have archers trained on horseback. Mounted archer is just... such a very Alethi thing, especially non-Shattered Plains Alethi. I didn’t realize, but of course they wouldn’t have that. Horses are too rare.

aight, I didn’t really think Sadeas had betrayed them THIS early on, but STILL, I was so hoping...

Still, rockslide ambush is... a pretty solid strategy for dealing with a Shardbearer.

Sucks for his elites tho. They did not deserve that. That’s shitty.

“They must know the punishment for broken oaths.” Huh. Even back then...

“for none shall remain to weep.” #YIKES, my dude. y i k e s.

punk!Dalinar needs to take a chill pill.

And maybe get some sleep.

Listen, if the Thrill is telling you not to sleep, yOU SHOULD PROBABLY SLEEP.

also, any time you are actually LISTENING to SADEAS? You should probably rethink your life and your choices.

Just saying.

So... presentday!Dalinar had a conversation with Taravangian, about sacrificing the few to save the many. That’s...sort of what Taravangian’s entire plan for world domination salvation rests on. But now here...at the Rift. This is 100% Sadeas’ argument: sacrifice the ten thousand commoners living in the Rift to make an example of their highlords to stop any rebellion further down the timeline that might result in more soldiers’ deaths. Which gives ...a really fascinating insight into just how incredibly far Dalinar has come. past!Dalinar is literally employing the exact plan that Taravangian is trying to do on a worldwide scale, and so he knows it. He understands the consequences that Taravangian can’t know and can’t anticipate and refuses to consider. And present!Dalinar learned from this, and knows what end these means lead to and...refuses. To do it again.

It’s SUCH an interesting character progression. And it’s absolutely fascinating to see it laid out in this order--to see the good, honorable man we know and love first and to see this...monster that he was and see exactly how very much he’s grown... It doesn’t excuse this bad period, the good he’s doing now, but maybe it explains it a little bit. Dalinar is getting a redemption arc and we didn’t even realize that he needed one until he’s almost done with it.

And that’s some badass non-linear storytelling for you.

Also past!Dalinar can get fucked by a cactus, holy shit, what an unbelievable fuck.

nooooo wonder Kadash leaves and becomes an ardent.

hoooooly shit.

“We’ve gone too far.” YA FUCKING THINK??

Meanwhile, Sadeas: “Nonsense!”

Fuck Sadeas, uuugghhhh I’m so glad he’s dead. UUGGHHH

what

the

fuck

THAT JUST HAPPENED.

Fun facts, y’all, the refrigerator is now on fire.

hoooollly fucking shiiiiiiit

WELP

[i-write-stuff-its-ok]

Petals and Ink          Part One

Flower shop Tattoo artist AU. Michael works at a flower shop called Pastel Petals he’s a nerd for plants and loves job and coworkers. His life was calm and steady before one day he goes to Needlepoint Tattoos and meets Jeremy a cute and dorky tattoo artist.

word count - 2360

Genre - FLUFF

warnings- mild swearing.

 Michael was finishing closing up Pastel Petals for the day. He hung up his baby blue apron and went to the sink to wash the potting soil off his hands. “ Hey Michael, me and Christen are  heading out to the mall wanna come with us?” asked Brooke his coworker as she hung up her yellow apron. “ No thanks I’ve already got plans.” he replied. “ Ooo you finally got yourself a date?” she teased. “ No. I’m gonna go get my tattoo.” he dismissed. “ You're getting a tattoo?” asked Christen as she walked in from the back still wearing her pink apron. Dirt was smudged on her face . “ You got a little something,” Michael said gesturing to his face. Christen wiped her face with the corner of her apron before taking it off. “, and yes I am getting a tattoo so will sadly have to decline on your invite to the mall.” Michael said as he grabbed his backpack from behind the counter. “ Awwwww but you never come with us.” Brooke pouted. “ Oh well more Cinnabon for us.” Christen teased. “ Wait you never talked about Cinnabon.” Michael said interested. “ I’m so sorry, but Cinnabon is only for those who go to the mall with their friends.” Christen said with a smirk. “ Look, how about I just meet up with you guys after I’m done it won’t take that long and you two can be the first to see me with a tat.” Michael suggested. “ That’s cool with me if it’s cool with you Brooke.” Christen said. “ That’s cool.”agreed Brooke. “ Cool. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” Michael smiled. “ See ya.” Christen said as she waved and walked out of the store with Brooke. Michael was left alone in the store. He took a spray bottle off the shelf and gave the small bonsai tree on the front desk a little mist. He set the bottle down and put his backpack on and grabbed the keys. He turned off the lights and locked the door. He turned the small sign on the door handle to stay closed. He took a second to admire the drawings of tiny roses curving around the letters before walking off.

 Needlepoint Tattoos, that’s what the flickering neon sign outside the building said. The tattoo parlor wasn’t even that far from Pastel Petals just a few blocks away. Michael walked into the dim room. On the walls where pictures of different designs. A sign above the front desk read, “We will refuse to give tattoos to anyone who is drunk, or high. We also do not do tattoos of the names of your spouse, or of any hate speech or offensive signs. Thank you for your corporation.” “Well,” thought Michael “ I’m not drunk, and I’m not high. I’m single as fuck and I just want a video game tattoo. So I should be fine.” The boy working the counter had a face full of freckles and a red streak in his blond hair. He was staring down at his phone unphased by Michael walking in wearing a pink sweater and white jeans. Michael walked up to the counter. “ Hi so umm I wanted to get a tattoo.” Michael said with a smile. “ Yeah no thhit you want a tattoo you're in a tattoo parlor dude. Nameth Rich, and your name ith?” he spoke with a lisp “ Michael Mell.” he said nervously. “ Didn’t need your full name.” Rich said blankly. “ Oh sorry I don’t know how these things work. I’m not really a tattoo person.” Michael stammered. Rich looked at clothes Michael was wearing. “ Yeah, I can tell. Now what kinda tattoo did you thay you wanted?” asked Rich. “ I was thinking something videogame related, nothing big just something small and-” “ Videogameth you thaid?” ,Rich interrupted, “ I know the guy for you, HEY TALL ATH GET IN HERE YOU GOTTA CLIENT! He’ll be here in a thecond.” said Rich. A tall lanky boy walked out of the back. He had light brown curly hair that fell in his face. His skin was pale which made his blue eyes stand out.  His face was thin and looked tired. He wore a gray shirt and black ripped jeans. He had on a black letterman's  jacket that was covered in pins. “ I told you not to call me that.” he mumbled. “ Yeah yeah yeah. Thith ith Michael and you're gonna help him ok. I’m going on break, thee ya tall ath.” Rich said as he got up and walked out. “ Ok then hello I’m Jeremy and I’m gonna give you your tattoo I guess.” he said with an awkward smile. “ So umm follow me back here.” Jeremy gestured for Michael to follow as he walked back behind a curtain. Michael quickly got up and walked behind him. The room they entered was smaller and had posters on the wall of more designs but also posters of different video games  and characters and a few bands. There was also a small bisexual flag pined up next to a Fall Out Boy poster. In the center of the room was a black chair and pushed up against the wall was a table with different kinds of ink and needles. The lights had a purple tint to them giving the room a magical vibe. “ Welcome to my office ha ha, it’s nerdy I know.” Jeremy said with an awkward smile. “ Apocalypse of The Damned, I love that game.” said Michael as he stared at the poster on the wall. “ Really?”, Jeremy smirked, “ You don’t strike me as the gaming type.” “Is this flirting?” Michael wondered. “It can’t be there's no way Jeremy was very attractive. Too attractive to find any intrest in me” Michael thought. “ Yeah, that's actually the kind of tattoo I was planing on getting, ya know a gaming tattoo. So Yeah.” Michael said bashfully. “ Ok any game in mind?” asked Jeremy.   “ Pac Man, I know it sounds really nerdy and it’s an old game but I’ve got this thing for classics and it was the first game I ever played and ,and ,and I’m rambling sorry.” Michael stammered. Jeremy giggled. “Wow,” ,Michael thought. “ He has a really cute laugh.” Jeremy got out his sketchbook and a pencil. “ So any ideas on what you want for a design?” Jeremy asked. “ Oh no not really ,should I have come in with something, sorry?” Michael looked down at the floor. “ No no no no! It’s fine really. I mean we can work t-together now ha ha.” Jeremy blurted out. Michael looked up and smiled at him. Jeremy opened his sketchbook and flipped to a blank page. The two boys shot ideas back and forth about the design. After a while Jeremy and Michael agreed on an idea and Jeremy got to work drawing. Jeremy’s feet where up on the chair and his sketchbook was resting on his knees as he drew. Michael stared at him in wonder as he was drawing. He watched the way his hair fell in his eyes and they way he blew it away. The way his little tongue stuck out of his mouth when he was focusing. The way he cocked his head to the side as worked on the smaller details.  His long eyelashes and the faint freckles he had on his nose. His lopsided smile and his pink lips. Michael felt as if he could stare at him for hours. “ Ok how dose that look?” Jeremy suddenly speaking and breaking the silence made Michael jump a little. Jeremy showed Michael his sketchbook to reveal a drawing of a tiny Pac Man eating a row of power pellets. “ Wow, it looks amazing.” Michael said his jaw dropping at the sight of the drawing. “ Please ,it’s not like it's Picasso.” shrugged Jeremy. “ No it’s really good. This is exactly what I was looking for.” Michael praised. “ Well you did help design it.” Jeremy reminded Michael. “ So are you ready to start.” he asked. “ Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” Michael said with a nervous smile. “ Great. Now I’m not gonna lie, this is gonna hurt. Like a lot. Wrist tattoos hurt because the skin is thinner and you're closer to nerves and-” Jeremy saw the scared look on Michaels face. “ I’m not helping am I?” Michael shook his head. “ Ok lets just get started, can you roll up your sleeve.” Michael pushed up the pale pink sleeve on his right arm. “ Ok, so let’s get your mind off your nerves before I start, umm where do you work?” Jeremy asked sweetly. “ I work over at Pastel Petals. You know the flower shop on Willow Street.” Michael answered. “ Cool, gotta favorite plant?” Jeremy asked with a smile. Little did Jeremy know with the question he would unlock a whole lot of nerdy passion. “ Oh that’s a hard question. I love succulents but roses or lilies, but bamboo amazing to and just cactus in general. Oh but cherry blossoms are so pretty but it's so hard to raise them here…” as Michael continued to rant and was distracted Jeremy started. “ ...and then there's snapdragons and OW!” Michael shouted in pain. “ Sorry sorry sorry I’m so sorry!” Jeremy apologized as he continued to draw “ Take a break please please take a break!” Michael cried out. Jeremy turned off the needle and set it down. “ Are you ok? I’m so sorry. Tell me when you ready to start again and this time when it hurts just umm, squeeze my hand ok.”  Jeremy said turning a little pink after suggesting that Michael hold his hand. Michael reached out a took Jeremy’s hand. “ His hands are so soft.” thought Michael. “ O-ok, you can start again. I’m ok.” Michael said shakily. Jeremy began to start again and Michael immediately squeezed on to his hand tight. His face was twisted up and he was trying to hold back tears. As he continued to work Jeremy wondered ,“What on earth is someone like Michael was doing here? Places like this aren’t where you normally find cute boys dressed in pastels who talk about flowers.” Jeremy thought to himself. As Jeremy finished up he looked at Michael, his face was more relaxed but his eyes were still shut tight. “ There's something different about this one, I just can't place it.” Jeremy thought. “ Ok all done.” Jeremy said with a smile. Michael opened his eyes and slowly looked down at his wrist. There was a perfect copy of the drawing Jeremy had shown him earlier. “ So what do you think?” Jeremy asked. “ Whoa. Dude it looks so cool! Thank you so much.” Michael beamed. “ It’s nothing, just my job haha.” Jeremy chucked. Michael looked down to find he was still holding Jeremy’s hand. Michael awkwardly let go. “ S-sorry I forgot I was... sorry.” he stammered. “ It’s ok I-I didn't even notice.” Jeremy said turning red. There was a silence. “ So… you said you played Apocalypse of The Damned?” Jeremy asked awkwardly breaking the silence. “Yeah it’s one of my favorite games, but I can’t get past level eight.” Michael said. “ You probably just have a bad player two.” Jeremy suggested. “What?” Michael asked confused. “ Wait don't tell me your playing that game by yourself.” Jeremy looked at Michael ,he shrugged. “ No way ,you are! You know that game needs two players, you're not gonna ever beat the game without another person. It's a two player game.” Jeremy said. “ Oh well, that explains a lot.” said Michael. Jeremy giggled again. Michael turned red. The two of them sat together and talked about game strategies and different games they enjoyed for hours on end. Suddenly a tall girl with brunette hair wearing a tight black dress and fishnet tights walked into Jeremy’s office. “ Jeremy are you ever gonna leave here. The store closed like fifteen minutes ago. I’ve gotta go home so can you close up ok.” she yawned. The boys looked at the clock on the wall. It was 11:55 pm. “ Oh shit sorry Chloe, I lost track of time. See you tomorrow.” Jeremy apologized. Chloe walked out leaving Jeremy and Michael alone in the store. “Sorry for keeping you here all night, you've probably gotta get home.” Jeremy said. “ Yeah I’m supposed to go and meet my… SHIT!” Michael said as he reached into his bag and pulled out his phone. Nineteen new messages. He unlocked his phone and read them. New message from Christine “ Hey we’re at the mall text us when your on your way.” New Message from Christine “ Are you all most here?”  New message from Christine “ Michael it’s been 30 min you all most here?” New message from Christine “ Dude what is taking you so long?” New message from Christine “ Michael ”  New message from Christine “ Michael ” New message from Christine “ Michael ”  New message from Christine “ Michael ”  New message from Christine “ Michael ”  New message from Christine “ MICHAEL MELL!!!!!!” New message from Christine “ Pick up your freakn phone dude.” New message from Christine “ Cinnabon is closing in ten minutes were going without you.”  New photo message from Christine. There were seven photos attached of Christen and Brooke eating Cinnabon in an empty mall food court with the caption. “ It was delicious you should have came.” “ Aw man Christine is gonna kill me. I was supposed to meet her at the mall.” Said Michael hanging his head in shame. “ Christine? Is she your girlfriend or…?” asked Jeremy. “ No, no she’s just my friend.” Michael assured as he paid Jeremy. “ Thank you again, It was really nice meeting you. Bye.” “ Y-you to, bye.” Jeremy said with a wave. Michael left Needlepoint Tattoos as Jeremy was locking up. It was midnight now as he drove home on the quiet roads. He turned on the radio, a Fall Out Boy song played. It reminded him of the poster in Jeremy’s office. It reminded him of Jeremy. It reminded him of how soft his hand felt and how kind he was, and his cute little giggle and awkward smile. Why couldn't he get this boy out of his head Michael wondered. And then he thought, does he think of me the same way to. “No,” Thought Michael, “He can't, can he?”

End of part one.