#and he’s a coward if he actually offed himself

[beomiracles]

why the fuck does matter that he was cast aside society ‘avoidant and mentally unstable’ he still killed 10 people why is he being fucking made out a victim

[allofuswantgwinam]

A SHOP FOR KILLERS SPOILERS

so im on the last two episodes and 🤧🤧 freakin lee Dong Wook looked so good in that uniform i was losin my mind, but I CANT WAIT TO FINISH IT. it’s been such a roller coaster and i still wanna believe he’s not dead but I can’t anymore 😭😭 cause i bet he offed himself so Bale can’t get him *DONT TELL ME IM JUST VENTING!!!*BALE IS FUCKIN CRAY. I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE IT I CANT EVEN CALM DOWN. terrified. im actually terrified of him and I hope he gets murdered so hard, how is he even not dead already after that whole flashback scene I am pisssed!!!!! and I’m still not over my ex baby boy, we call him baby bitch now 😭😭🤣💀 hopefully he dead and died a slow painful one while hanging upside down since he wants to be a psycho and lock people in rooms to see if they’re really mute or not wtf. and the way he thinks he killed jeong jin man … but really is just a weak coward 🫢 I hate him so much. Pasin or ig Ji an’s master 🤣 love him, he is a vibe and I understand he scammed people but I forgive him 🫶🏼 he bettr not end up evil i s2g 😤 I love this show

[weepingseraphstranger]

Finally saw what the whole 'Mouth -washing' stuff was about. I loathe Jimmy. Like, I can find myself liking Akainu and All For One (for the sole purpose of thirst tbh), but I cannot with Jimmy. That's how much I hate him. He's a narcissist, a "victim", pathetic, an asshole, and a coward. He takes what he wants and gets rid of what he doesn't, all the while convincing himself he's not the bad guy. He looks down on not only his peers, but those above him, even the ones he's envious of. He's so self-absorbed and can't take responsibility for his actions, that he fails at what he wants: to be a hero, the good guy, the one who gets the attention and good rep— to be something and to be in control. Because you need to have some sense of self-awareness, reflection, and responsibility to get that.

Even before he went totes delusional, it was still there. He was never really a good person. I mean, what good person sexually assaults anyone? Then only thinks of the consequences when their victim might "ruin his life" (let's be real, he did it to himself) before, then, trying to ditch all of that? And, no, I don't think he was off the deep end like you can argue he was near the end. He made a conscious decision to crash the ship because if he was going to do anything, he was going to rope everyone else into it. It couldn't just be him. Why would it? He wouldn't be the hero if he did. He wouldn't be "fixing it all" if he only "fixed" his situation. Because he's just a coward.

Not only that, but you can tell he has no respect for women. Again, what man who actually respects women would sexually assault one of them? None. We can also see that by the way he treats Anya and the way the other three got to have a moment before their death. She didn't really get to. She was glimpsed over. And the men showed up someway as he was going about the end. She showed up as the womb, the line of "babies"/ponies. He saw her as nothing but that. As nothing but what he got them into the situation—the "problem".

Also, the way he treated her vs the others was really telling. He saw a chance to control, be it because she was a woman or because she seems naturally soft-hearteded and sensitive. If it was just because of her sensitive nature, then why was the way he treated her and Daisuke different? That boy was naive and easily manipulated himself. He probably would've defended himself instead of completely take it, but if Jimmy was only a little meaner, he would've probably shrugged it off. Who knows? I just find it odd that even before the crash, he clearly treated Anya and the rest of the crew so differently. Treating her as nothing and a pain when she was also important. (—And more important than Daisuke who was merely an intern and not the nurse. She had way more responsibility on her shoulders than he did.)

And in the end, I don't think he truly felt guilt. That "sorry" at the end (the only time we see him somewhat taking responsibility which even then...no) wasn't truthful to his own friend. He was still thinking of himself. He wasn't sorry for what he did, he was sorry that it ended up going so badly. You can still tell that he doesn't want to admit it was all his fault. (Not taking some blame off of Curly who should have been the captain, not the friend, and taken action when Anya spoke about what happened and shouldn't have let Jimmy go where ever after they interacted when the whole pregnancy thing was happening despite knowing why Anya was scared) And despite not feeling as if it was completely on him, he continues to believe it was him who had fixed it in the end. By what? Freezing Curly and killing himself? (Not even making sure the pod was working before he offed himself.) So Curly can be found, have to deal with the consequences while he can die his delusional part of "hero"? Mf Curly should've been put out of his misery and Jimmy should've done himself next. Either that or freeze himself, be found with murked workers and face the legal repercussions because it would be quite obvious what happened.

And on the topic of him and Curly, I don't think he truly liked him. They were friends, yes, but he couldn't see him as anything but what he wanted. All of Curly's wins in life, he couldn't truly feel happy for. He couldn't be helped to be an open ear for him because why would Curly ever have a problem with anything when he didn't have his life and he wanted his life? Why does Curly get to be ungrateful for the life he wants? He must be looking down on them, he must think he's above them for that, right? Its all a competition in his mind. There's no equal. If he's not on top, he's the poor old underdog who deserves better. If he's not on top, that means everyone else is against him.

Honestly, I see their dynamic as toxic. Curly is Jimmy's doormat. I don't know much psychology but I am more attuned to the roles of abusive families, (mainly because there was my father who is...such a bastard) but you can say it's like he's both the golden child and scapegoat combined into one. He's his enabler because he's just so naive and in a way so blind and ignorant. Like, wow, he's your friend and you don't want to see bad in your friend but...dumbass. He's already spoken down on you so many times. But it's hard to see that, especially when Curly is the softer one in their dynamic. Imagining being the friend— spanning how many years back— of a narcissist like Jimmy. And yes, even enablers can be a victim of a narcissist. Guilt tripping, gaslighting, all that juicy stuff. It's not an equal, balanced friendship. Jimmy would never be capable of having a good, balanced, equal relationship.

Uuuuh, I've exhausted my smooth brain. So, yeah, I hate Jimmy. Love how the creators wrote him. Very nice. Very good. Great. Phenomenal. His character? Skin him and put him in salt and lemon. Someone said he was evil Flynn Rider and that was accurate but still giving him too much credit.

[rationalisms]

it's been a hot second since the film came out so i think it's finally time to admit that the IT sequel telling us bill hader is gay by showing us flashbacks of child him getting called slurs and then having his childhood crush graphically murdered by an alien clown and then ending on him crying over the man he loved while the voice over of the guy who offed himself over it all tells him "u should have just come out instead u coward lol" was actually hysterically funny. avant-garde comedy. did leave the cinema literally fuming at the time but looking back on it yea it was kind of a good goof

[omegasmileyface]

Of All the People - ch. 1

Chapter 1 of the fanfiction that @attackradish and @ectolemonades and I wrote together for @invisobang! Starring art by the esteemed @toasty-ghosti! Their art for this chapter is also posted on their own blog here!

summary: After a stupid dare puts Dash Baxter in the lab at Fentonworks during the middle of a ghost fight, he finds himself a little more spectral than usual. Apparently Danny Fenton's gone through the same thing (someone has got to call OSHA on these guys eventually), and who could better help Dash than his hero? His lame, stubborn hero?

warnings: nothing for this chapter, but later chapters have existential crises and Spectra.

total words: 12k

chapter words: 2231

AO3 link

next chapter

===

Why did Dash agree to this? Fenton Works was fucking creepy, and wasn’t that the whole point? He'd been dared to break in because “that place is spooky as hell,” and here he was, shocked to find it spooky as hell. He should have known the air in the house would be dark and heavy like the middle of a ghost fight, but silent like the grave. He had half a mind to just turn around and walk right back out that front door— which, looking from the inside, was armed? —and go home. He didn’t have that option, though, when the point of the dare in the first place was to prove he wasn’t a coward. Earlier he had let out what Kwan called “an absolute Primadonna screech” while the A-listers were attempting to film a found-footage style fake ghost hunt. He was sentenced to a pilgrimage into Fenton Works in the dead of night to steal something cool from the lab. Now, just the entryway was making him wonder if being a coward was such a bad thing.

Since entry, the house had greeted Dash with breathless quiet. He knew there was all that creepy tech shit in the basement, so why wasn’t there any electric humming? It was like the house had noticed him and taken away any sounds he could have used to orient himself. He had to adjust to it, like when the pressure from an altitude change wasn't quite enough to pop your ears.

A sudden shriek broke the silence, and a shadowy figure burst out of a hall closet towards Dash. His legs burst into a sprint before he had time to think, taking him deeper into the suburban labyrinth. He ground to a halt by a hallway (that he could swear wasn’t there before) and ducked into its shadows to catch his breath.

A peek around the corner revealed no monster. Cautiously, he snuck back out for a better look. Maybe he could make a run for the door? He wasn’t going to die just to prove he wasn’t a coward. Let them show the video to the whole school. Hell, throw it up on national news! Anything was better than getting ripped to shreds by whatever that thing was.

Coast looked clear. As he crept back, his ears strained to make out any sounds masked by his footsteps. Slowly but surely, he crossed the Fentons’ living room. The door was just a couple yards away. He could make it. He grit his teeth, ready to outrun the devil itself, and bolted.

Just an arm’s reach away from the door, a claw snapped shut around his ankle and pulled. Dash fell helplessly to the floor.

This was it. His death was at hand. He would die on a stupid dare in a town that took “dead end” to a new level, offed by some entity whose name he didn’t even know.

…Why hadn’t anything happened? The oppressive silence of Fenton Works beat into his temples. The claw around his ankle slowly felt less and less like a vise. Dash turned to face his attacker… a pair of coats and a vacuum cleaner.

God, he felt stupid. The house lost some of its horror when it was so obviously domestic. He got up, dusted himself off, and turned back to the living room with a renewed sense of confidence.

Once he crossed the threshold into the much darker kitchen, the feeling of dread tickled back up his spine. He rested his hands on the table to steady his nerves. It’s just a house, Baxter. Remember what got you spooked last time? …But what if it’s actually something dangerous next time? And I’m not ready for it? He focused on his breathing. Listened for the anxious thump in his chest. After a bit, he regained some calm.

Without warning, he lost his balance. It was like the table had suddenly moved up and pushed his hand. At a glance it seemed a little taller, but it was too dark to see if the legs were still touching the floor, and Dash knew better than to check.

Maybe the kitchen was a bad place to be right now. Kitchens have practically everything dangerous for humans and just about nothing dangerous to ghosts�� at least the lab should have something to defend himself with.

Dash wasted no time trying to escape the room. In his sprint, an open cupboard cracked against his forehead. He staggered backward and nearly flipped over an open silverware drawer. He overcorrected, stumbling forward into the stove, limbs sprawling over the cooktop. He froze at a distinctive t-t-t-t next to his ear— the igniting of a gas burner. The burner opposite his face erupted in a flash of blue. Then another a bit closer. Shitshitshit—! As he jumped away, the remaining burners lit all at once like a fireworks show. He bit back a scream (like that did anything for all the noise he’d already made) and sprinted through the kitchen with arms raised for cover. This house was absolutely haunted! Was it built on an old cemetery? Did the Fentons kill off some forgotten child of theirs? Had they finally pushed the spirits past their limit with their meddling in the paranormal?

Exhausted, his nerves shot, Dash pried open the metal door to the lab stairs and descended into the radioactive glow. 

===

Danny hadn't particularly planned on waking up at 2 a.m. because he felt someone break into his house. He especially hadn't planned on that someone being Dash. But an opportunity to torment that pain in the neck with little to no consequence? He couldn't pass that up.

The first few minutes of watching Dash flail around in the dark and attempt to stifle panic over anything and everything were hilarious without any ghostly influence. By the time Dash made it to the kitchen, Danny couldn't resist stepping in. When Dash tripped over the silverware drawer, he’d had to react quickly to hold it and keep it from breaking. The trick with the burners on the stove was quite genius, if he did say so himself. Some ghostly side of Danny was taking a dark pleasure in the way Dash’s fear wafted through his house.

Once he reached the lab, though, Danny had to draw a line. That place was a mess, and even someone wearing protective equipment could be seriously hurt. In fact, depending on how much denial he was indulging in at the moment, he might even say he'd proven the lab lethal.

He only watched Dash rummage around for a moment before regaining visibility on the steps while his back was turned.

"You shouldn't be in the lab unsupervised. You could get hurt down here, y'know."

Dash nearly jumped out of his skin. The ectoplasm sample he was holding fell as he whipped around and threw his hands in the air.

"I'm so sorry I swear–! Oh, Fenton, uh," Dash spluttered, clearly trying to play off his panic. "What are you doing here?" Danny raised his eyebrows at him.

"This is my house, Dash. You were making enough noise to wake the dead," Danny smiled at his own joke.

"Well it's not my fault your family doesn't know how to close cabinets! Hey, shouldn’t you have a gun or something? What if I was an armed robber? What were you going to do, try to fist-fight me? You’d hardly weigh 100 pounds soaking wet!"

"Aw, you care if I can protect myself! How sweet," Danny snarked. "Let's see.” He ticked things off on his fingers as he spoke: “First you break into my house, then you judge my family's kitchen habits, and then you snoop around a lab full of dangerous equipment and manage to break a sample. Which, by the way, you have to help me clean up now."

"Why is it your business what I'm doing?" Dash snapped.

"Once again, this is my house, Dash." Danny sighed. "Whatever, if you help me clean up your mess, I'll give you whatever it is you came here for so you can leave and I can get some sleep."

Dash seemed visibly taken aback by how Danny spoke to him. Danny shrugged it off and went through the motions of cleaning up a spilled sample. Gloves, broom, rag, Fenton Disinfecto spray.

He walked Dash through the process, explaining vaguely how the spray would neutralize any potential ectoradiation in the area of the spill, just in case it was a particularly potent sample. He wasn't sure why he even bothered to explain it, or how he felt about Dash silently following his instructions with a somewhat solemn look on his face. Whatever. He couldn’t sulk his way out of cleaning up the mess he made after breaking into Danny’s house.

Mess cleaned up and cleaning implements properly sanitized, Danny started rummaging through cabinets with more confidence than Dash had.

"So, what were you trying to get? Wrist ray? Fenton Th—" Danny cut himself off with a small gasp at the feeling of cold air sliding up his throat.

"Uh, what was that?" Shit. Danny had hoped he wouldn't notice anything. He coughed, a weak attempt at covering it up.

"I, uh, thought I heard someone upstairs," he said. Dash didn’t get the chance to ask any more questions before there was a burst of green light and Johnny 13 was roaring through the portal.

Oh, just perfect. Danny had held out hope that it would at least be Boxy or some innocent blob, but why would he ever get someone nice at 2 a.m. with his biggest human tormentor in the room? He made eye contact with Johnny, who seemed surprised to be greeted so soon. Danny tried to look scared, or at least shocked, but it was the middle of the night in his own house. Sue him if he wasn’t feeling up to theatrics.

There was something like a ping in the back of his mind, and his attention was drawn to the side, where Dash was backing up away from the portal. He was shaking like a chihuahua, but he kept his movements slow, like Johnny wouldn’t see him if he didn’t move.

Whatever Danny did had to be fast and effective to keep Dash from getting hurt.

Johnny was over his surprise, his green eyes narrowed with determination. This wasn’t the time for an identity reveal, but Danny didn’t have any accessible thermos on him at the moment. Maybe he could find a weapon to force him away? The lab was pretty empty of weapons at the moment, except a Fenton Bazooka lying half-assembled in some work-in-progress “upgrade”. He didn’t trust it. His best bet was the Weapons Vault, 6 or so yards away.

“Hey, Twerp!” Johnny started revving his engine to charge.

Danny tried desperately to communicate don’t you dare act familiar with me or you’ll get a month of Soup Hell after this with a look. He turned to Dash. “Getting weapons. Stay here.”

In his rush, he didn’t wait for Dash’s stunned nod. He bolted for the vault door and hoped he was keeping Johnny’s attention.

===

What the FUCK was going on? First Fenton was acting all weird and nice and bold, and then some vaguely familiar goddamn ghost came out of the vortex, which was apparently some kind of portal just left open, and then Fenton stared the thing down and zoomed off into the front of the room but it wasn’t like he was running it was like he was gearing up, and the ghost wasn’t paying any attention to Dash and how was he supposed to protest? Then as the ghost chased after Fenton, who was off like a wild fucking cat, it started charging some kind of shot in its hand, and Dash had seen attacks like that one too many times watching Phantom fight. He had to cover Fenton’s back somehow, he wasn’t going to be responsible for letting the kid die because of his stupid dare.

His eyes darted around the lab. There had to be weapons around here somewhere, and Fenton was just overlooking them. There! On the workbench. It was big and looked partway disassembled, but it was the green and silver of ghost weaponry and it had an obvious trigger and he had to act fast. He hauled the thing up to his chest, aimed the best he could, and pulled the trigger.

For a second, he thought he succeeded. There was a massive flash of green light and the sound of a small explosion. But then he noticed the shockwave, coming from the gun itself and not its target. And he noticed the pain, blooming out from his chest like he’d broken more ribs than he even had and the broken bones had grabbed up his heart in their claws and eaten it whole. His vision stayed green as he noticed he was falling. And as his head hit the ground, his left leg exploded into pain, taken by the same hungry god that took his heart. He thought he heard a scream through the white noise, and he had no idea if it was his. If his own throat even worked. Then, there was nothing, except the thought that he had predicted his own death a few minutes too early.

[cuteteacakes]

Commissions for @boredandblank

I was given permission to post the 3 mini commissions I wrote for @boredandblank  based on the PS3 game Dark Sector’s protagonist, Hayden Tenno. I was asked to used prompts from a writing meme actually, all about making him miserable basically xD Enjoy!

One: Nightmares, Can’t Sleep, Hopelessness

They were everywhere. Shadows of what were once human beings chasing him down. Metallic skin, people with the Technocyte clawing at his body while he tried to shove them all away. But they kept coming. He fired his gun, but the bullets were simply absorbed into skin that rippled like mercury. 

They were swarming, becoming an amalgamation of metal and bodies, undulating wildly and without rhyme or reason. They were gaining on him. He could feel their hot breaths and fingers gripping at his clothes. No matter how many times he shot at them, they kept absorbing the blows. The mass reached his feet. He ran, not going anywhere. A chunk of the mass broke off and became Nemesis, raising its scythe-like hand and bringing it down upon his shoulder, tearing into the skin. 

Hayden Tenno awoke with a start. He could still feel the remnants of the night terror prickling at his body, though the exact scene that played out in his sleep vanished quickly and he forgot what it was about. That didn’t stop his heart from pounding, his lungs gasping for air. Hayden took a couple deep breaths, and things clicked back into place. He had fallen asleep after barring himself inside a storage room, that’s right. He had decided to rest against a stack of burlap sacks. They were filled with lumps that were semi-soft, he didn’t question what was inside (although it gave off a foul odor like rotten fish). He just wanted some time to rest. It felt like he hadn’t rested for weeks. 

He raised his head and put it back down.  He should really get some sleep. He closed his eyes, and the Technocyte monsters appeared again, Nemesis standing tall and imposing behind them. This time Hayden went on the attack, using the weapon Nemesis infected him with to slice the other’s head off. Hayden was quick, but Nemesis was quicker. Lightning fast, its hand was around his neck and squeezing tightly. Hayden’s hand reacted instantly, flying to the clawed fingers digging into his neck and— he opened his eyes again, the weapon on his hand dangerously close to slitting his own throat. Hayden stared at it for a beat. The thought was there. A dark thought that he knew he shouldn’t be having, but was very tempting.

“Dammit, maybe I should do it-�� he murmured to no one. He held the blade over his neck, letting the thought sink in more and more. Why was he doing this anyway? When he first came to Lasria, he had been so sure of his objective. Even when he was dubious about the effectiveness of the booster shot he was given, he was sure he would get the job done. As he went into his second night of being infected himself, he wasn’t so sure anymore. What was the point? It’s not like he’d be able to even get out of Lasria because of his infection, which wasn’t even his fault, dammit. It was that motherfucker Mezner, that sonuva bitch Nemesis, hell, even the CIA could fuck itself. They wouldn’t give him the antidote even when he asked for it, the bastards.

It’d be so easy to just end it… 

Just one little slice and all his problems would be gone…

Hayden’s hand trembled, feeling the oddly cold and malleable surface waver and vibrate. It was pressed against his skin now. Any more and his skin would puncture and bleed. He wouldn’t feel it. It’d be over quickly. That’s what the Agency trained him for, wasn’t it? This was essentially a suicide mission and he was a pawn the whole time. If he offed himself, nobody would miss him, nobody would know…

Nadia would know. Hayden’s brow furrowed. He grit his teeth and put his hand, his weapon, back down by his side. That was the coward’s way out. Although he didn’t exactly feel like a hero either. What was he exactly? Did it matter? He hadn’t eaten anything for so long, maybe all these thoughts were because of hunger. Was that the empty feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach? Or was it the knowledge that this mission was a complete waste of time and no matter what he did, nothing mattered because he wouldn’t be able to get out of this pit?

Or maybe all these intrusive thoughts came because he couldn’t sleep. He felt like he hadn't slept in days. There was some scientific fact about lack of sleep being bad for your health or something, but was feeling like crap part of it? Fuck it, he wasn’t a scientist. Otherwise he’d be in a lab, probably studying a cure for the Technocyte disease, not in Lasria surrounded by people infected with it. 

Hayden put a hand to his head and forced his eyes to close. He needed to sleep. He needed sleep but his mind wouldn’t let him. Sometimes, and this was one of those times, he wished he could feel pain. Maybe he’d pass out from it and have a dreamless night (which was as good as having a nightmare-less night). Instead he was numb. He’d been numb his whole life. Maybe that numbness moved to his heart, his brain too. Maybe that’s why he felt so out of sorts. That’s right. It was the lack of sleep talking, not him. This wasn’t him. It wasn’t-

There was a sudden violent banging on the barricaded door, causing Hayden to shoot upright. The door started to shutter on its hinges. The infected would break  in soon. So much for trying to get some rest. Not like his brain was going to let him anyway. 

With a strained grunt, Hayden got to his feet. The banging on the door continued. He rolled his neck, getting at least a couple satisfying pops out of it. 

“Looks like I have some house guests…”

Right now, this would be Hayden’s life. Until he succumbed to the Technocyte virus, he wasn’t going anywhere outside of Lasria.

Two: Applying Bandages, Stitching Self Up, Lost and Alone

It was a stupid mistake that could’ve been easily avoided. It was a mistake that anyone could’ve made, but Hayden couldn’t afford any mistakes. And now he was clutching his shoulder, blindly stumbling through alleyways, and trying desperately to avoid being detected by anything less than human. 

It started when his foot hit an empty can when he wasn’t looking. He had just put a bullet through the head of Viktor Sudek and was confronted by Robert Mezner and Nemesis. They probably left him for dead, but it’d take a lot more than that to kill him. Anyway, after he pulled himself together and unsteady on his feet, he stumbled into a can, sending it bouncing against the alley wall until rolling to a stop. The sound echoed off the concrete walls, breaking a suffocating silence and making Hayden flinch. Then it was quiet again. Until it alerted every Technocyte victim within a fifty foot radius, which was a lot more than he thought since so far he’d been lucky at not seeing any nearby. But one little clang, and the moaning and scrambling feet came from all around, heading straight towards him.  

“Shit-” He tried to press his hand harder to the wound, but blood continued to seep through his fingers. That was his second mistake. After being heard and spotted by at least twenty zombies, Hayden had fired his gun at them, not looking where he was going, and backed into one. With a guttural growl it grabbed his shoulder. No, a better word would be it tore at his shoulder, because both shirt and skin were torn away from his body. Hayden didn’t notice the bleeding until he sliced off the attacker’s head with his new weapon conveniently growing from his infected arm.

“Shit-” he had muttered the same cuss word when he realized blood was now dripping down his arm. He needed to find somewhere safe to patch himself up. He couldn’t think too much about it however, since he could hear more infected quickly approaching. Damn, if only he could just patch that before-

A crash behind him made Hayden spin around. He had to get moving or else he’d probably lose his whole arm next time. Still clutching his shoulder, he scrambled as fast as he could, out of the crumbling building and into the street. 

And that’s where he was right now. Panting, feeling light-headed from the bloodloss, and yet not feeling the pain of his wound. The world was beginning to spin, but he wouldn’t let himself pass out, not yet. He didn’t care where his feet took him, as long as it was somewhere he could be relatively safe. 

An infected zombie stepped out from a blind corner and scared the crap out of him. He immediately sliced its head off. The headless body slumped to the ground like a sack of meat. Where the fuck did that one come from? Hayden quietly stepped over the body and found that there was a gaping hole in the side of a building, just big enough for someone with Technocyte, or him, to crawl through. Taking a chance, Hayden crouched and shimmied into the hole. It was empty, thank God. Now he could address the wound. 

Taking bandages out of his pack, he tore it with his teeth. Even if he couldn’t feel the pain his wound was causing, he sure as hell wasn’t going to make it worse. He sat down hard with a grunt. Now maybe he could assess the damage- oh. He was still bleeding. Really hard. He’d have to take his shirt off first. It was ripped already but he didn’t want any threads getting stuck under his skin. He didn’t have any antiseptics either. That wasn’t good. He’d have to find some later. The place was littered with so much junk he didn’t think it’d be a problem finding something useful, right?

Hayden pressed the gauze onto the wound, feeling the skin react, but not transferring to his brain. Damn, if he was anyone else, this would’ve probably really hurt. Good thing he couldn’t feel it. 

He then took the bandage and began wrapping the wound, going slowly so he wouldn’t make too much noise. The crunch of the bandage as he wrapped was the only sound in that small space, next to his labored breathing which he tried to calm. 

As he continued to wind the bandage, Hayden glanced up and out of the hole he hid in. He was so busy trying to get away from the zombies chasing after him, he didn’t even bother to look where he was going. He wasn’t familiar with Lasria in the first place, all he knew was that he needed to get to the radio station, contact his superiors. He was headed in the right direction when he started out, but he took so many turns trying to shake his pursuers that he didn’t know which way was up, let alone which way to the radio tower. You’d think with a tower you’d be able to see it rising above the tops of the buildings, but luck wasn’t on his side. The city was so congested they practically blotted out the sun if the smog itself didn’t already.

Almost finished with the bandaging. Hayden was itching to get out of this cramped space. Not only did a Technocyte zombie crawl out of the spot where he was now sitting, there was only one way out, and the even more chilling thought, only one way in. What if a horde of them appeared? He wasn’t ready. He was in the middle of something. He was unarmed- well, technically that wasn’t true anymore, not with his new bio-weapon. But still. The thought of flinging his now-infected arm through more than one head… Was it even possible? While he did want to test it out, it’d be stupid to try in this hidey-hole. He needed out. He needed instruction. He needed… damn, he needed someone to talk to or else this isolation would drive him nuts.

Hayden decided his patch job was good enough. It was getting darker and he needed to move. The more he stayed put the more thoughts got to him. And that didn’t do him any good.

Three: Unsteady, Falls Trying to Leave Room, Pounding Headache

“The Black Market can supply you with weapons, in case you-” Yargo Mensik gestured towards Hayden’s arm. “Run out of ammo.” 

Hayden also looked down at his arm and flexed his fingers. Yargo sure talked a lot. 

“You can find Black Market in certain marked manhole covers, the symbol looks like this-” Yargo began to draw a crude picture of some type of flower. He passed it to Hayden, who reluctantly took it. He squinted as he tried to figure out what it was supposed to be. Yargo shrugged. “Forgive my artistic skills, they are lacking. The symbols on the manhole covers look like lotus flowers. You know what lotus flower looks like, yeah? Good, good. Find these, and the black market will take care of you… for the right amount of rubles, of course.”

Hayden was tempted to roll his eyes. “Thanks.” Every time he had to kill someone, the meager amount of rubles they had on their body was pathetic. If he was going to get anything upgraded, he’d have to kill a lot more people. And despite having done it so many times before, it just didn’t sit right with him. These weren’t soldiers he was killing. They were once human. They had lives, as crappy as they were having to live in squalor. Wrong place at the wrong time. He pushed back his chair to leave. 

“Oh, one more thing, Agent Tenno.” Yargo slid a clean bandage across his desk. “You best change that one you have on your shoulder. I give this one to you, since I know the scraps you find around here are dirty at best. Patch yourself up before you go.”

Hayden reached out to grab the bandage, his head suddenly becoming dizzy. He shook it. “Thanks, but I’m kind of in a hurry. I’ll do it later.” 

He stood up to leave. The room spun. He must’ve done it too quickly, all the blood was rushing to his feet. He put his head in his hand.

“Are you feeling alright, Agent Tenno?” Yargo raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward in his chair.

Hayden grit his teeth. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Obviously he wasn’t fine. He couldn’t feel the pain, but maybe that wound was worse than he thought. No, he was imagining things. He couldn’t have lost that much blood when he was attacked, right? 

“Maybe you should sit down for a moment. You don’t look too good.” Yargo’s words expressed concern, but the tone of his voice was flat, like he was stating that it was cloudy that day. Hayden shook his head, and that little movement set off a sudden pounding like he’d never felt before (because in all honesty, he hadn’t). What the fuck was this? What was going on? Yargo was standing, leaning over towards him.

“I think you should sit.” It was no longer a statement of concern but an order. Who did he think he was? Yargo was a sleeper agent, he wasn’t even activated. For all things considered, Hayden was talking with a run of the mill old man from the area who didn’t know anything. 

“I have to go-” Hayden turned again to go, Yargo not stopping him this time. He took one step. Two steps. He was almost to the door when the dizziness and pounding headache became unbearable. Hayden lost his footing and fell to the floor. He tried to put his hands out to stop himself, but his wound had made him weak and his arms crumpled before his face hit the ground, not soon after the rest of his body did. He felt the impact, knew it was bad by the sound of his shoulder bandage ripping, but the pounding headache was all he could focus on. Why wasn’t Yargo saying anything? Or… or was he? Through the constant thumping of his own pulse in his head and the loud ringing in his ears it was hard to make out anything else. 

“—and, Agent Tenno?” 

Yargo’s voice was muffled, like it was underwater. Hayden let out a constrained grunt. Stop talking, I can’t hear you. Did he say that out loud or was he thinking it? He didn’t know, he could only feel the pounding. But Hayden suddenly felt his arm being gripped and his body hoisted up. The room was still spinning. Through all the ringing and pain, he could feel himself being walked back across the room. Each step sent a vibration shooting up through his leg and body, rattling his still-pounding headache. He kept walking though, even if it was more a shuffle at a snail’s pace. His legs hit something solid and he crumpled into the chair he was just sitting in. 

“Give me that bandage, I will do it myself.” That was Yargo, his voice finally penetrating through the pounding. “I have some vodka too. You look like you need something strong. Set your head right.” There was a clink, a pouring, and Hayden felt glass press against his good hand. “Here. Drink up.”

Hayden took the glass filled with the clear liquid reluctantly, sniffed it to make sure he wasn’t being poisoned. 

“You think I would poison you? I am on your side. Now drink.” 

Hayden felt pressure on his shoulder before pulling, the sound of bandages crusty with dried blood being torn away and pulling on his skin. He downed the shot. It burned his throat and stung on the way down, but it managed to clear his head a little. It wasn’t pounding so much. He held the shot glass aloft and jiggled it to get Yargo’s attention. 

“You want another shot, Agent Tenno?” Hayden could hear the smile in his words. He grunted.

“Be a pal and top me off, Mensik.”

[rosettastarlight]

Alright, so! Addition to my danganronpa au of the Gone Series! I have figured out some details! Despite how this, once again, will probably be something I think up and talk about and then never actually write, heh.

I considered making Caine the mastermind, but I feel that’d be too obvious, and I feel one of two things would be a good arc, which is either the irony in where everyone thinks he killed someone, but for the first time in years he can say with absolute honesty, he didn’t do shit, and anyone who does believe him has to prove his innocence since if they’re wrong and the actual killer gets away, they’re all dead, or someone would kill him thinking he’s the Mastermind, but it turns out he wasn’t and they realize they just killed someone for nothing. I can’t keep all the characters alive, so much like in the books, he will die at some point, how I have yet to figure out!

Sam would start out as the main protagonist, who after the first death or so feels a sort of responsibility as the leader to solve the game as fast as possible to prevent the deaths of others. Unfortunately, as the loss toll rises and the amount of survivors shrink, this amount of pressure coupled with survivor’s guilt leads to him starting to lose hope and lose it, leading to him being the sacrifice near the end due to both losing hope and deciding if he was going to die, he’d want it to be on his own terms, and because he thinks that by sacrificing himself, he can get the rest closer to solving the mystery and getting out alive. I consider this at least a possibility since in the last book, he was absolutely prepared and ready to off himself to give everyone else a fighting chance against Gaia.

Someone else would likely become the protagonist, obviously. Who it is, I don’t know, but still. Besides, I kinda like those twists in the story where the mc we’re following gets offed, and now one of the side characters gotta pick up where they left off. 

Quinn would either be a survivor or wound up killed, because he’s made it clear he does not have the guts to kill, even if he has to, which is not essentially a bad thing, but in a place where that’s literally the game... Plus, he’s a bit of a coward starting off and understandable has a bit of a breakdown when everything goes nuts, so I can’t see him killing anyone, but considering his character growth, he does have the capability to be a survivor. 

My thoughts have not changed on making Astrid the Mastermind, I don’t know why, maybe I just want to give her a bigger role and an ability to explore her character more than in canon, but whenever I see this au, I can’t help but see Astrid as the Mastermind making everyone think she’s helping them when in reality, she’s dooming them.

Anyway, just a thought!

[aurorawest]

Marvel Fluff Bingo - mutual pining

Pairing: Loki/Stephen Strange Rating: T Warnings: some T-rated sexiness, nothing too racy Word Count: 1506 Square Filled: mutual pining for @marvelfluffbingo​​​ Summary: Through a whole series of ridiculous events and circumstances, Loki finds himself stuck in a cabin in the woods with Stephen Strange. Between the romantic firelight and the color of Stephen’s eyes, Loki thinks this might be the most dangerous situation he’s ever been in. A/N: Wrote this for a game on the @marveltrumpshate​​ Discord server where you were assigned two random tropes and had to write at least 200 words that combined and used both prominently. I got cabin in the woods + mutual pining.

----

Loki watched Stephen throw another log on the fire. Sparks showered, most of them hitting the back wall of the fireplace, but a few of them scattered over the hearth, where they glowed briefly before winking out.

Strange. Not Stephen. Loki needed to think of him as Strange. Calling him Stephen was so…personal. Personal in a dangerous way. Loki preferred the distance of surnames, and he especially preferred them when he was stuck, through a whole series of ridiculous events and circumstances, in a cabin in the woods with Stephen Strange. Sling ring? Oh, that hadn’t been on Strange when they’d ended up in the woods, unbroken trees stretching as far as the eye could see. Tremendous look for the Sorcerer Supreme. Really impressive.

At least they’d found the cabin. It was shelter for the night. Loki had reached the door first, tried the doorknob, and surreptitiously unlocked it with magic, pretending that it had been already been open.

“We don’t even have to break in,” Loki had said. Strange had looked at him like he’d known exactly what Loki had just done. He didn’t argue, though. That was one of the nice things about Strange. He had scruples, of course. But he was willing to let them slide when the moment called for it.

The inside was furnished, barely. It was one room. There was a small table and a bed, plus some sort of primitive shower contraption rigged up in one corner. Firewood was piled up next to the fireplace and some minor investigation outside revealed more there. This investigation also revealed an outhouse, which was charming.

Loki had started a fire and Strange had said he was going to attempt to wash some of the grime off him. No argument from Loki on that—Strange had tripped and slid down a muddy ravine, and he was filthy. It hadn’t been funny at the time, as Loki had clambered down the steep hill after him, hoping Stephen wasn’t hurt. But Stephen had been fine.

At that point, with Stephen picking clods of mud out of his hair, spitting out a mouthful of dirt, but clearly unhurt—physically, at least, as his pride had taken a beating—it had become funny.

It turned out the shower actually had running water, though Stephen yelped when he first stepped under it. That had made Loki turn around and ask, “What are you—”

Stephen had been naked. Completely naked. He was turned so that Loki could see him from the side, which meant Loki could see pretty much everything in profile. And one of Stephen’s arms was raised to aim the “shower head” (it was nothing but a pipe) away from himself. Water was running down him, following the curves and dips of his muscles. He actually had some. His physique was—

Heat had flooded Loki’s body and he’d busied himself with the fire, which didn’t need his attention. That was when he’d decided he really needed to stop thinking of Stephen as Stephen and confine himself to thinking of him as Strange.

He’d already been desperately attracted to the man. This—this whole situation, and now seeing Stephen, er, Strange, naked, was not helping.

“The water’s freezing,” Strange had informed Loki once he was done with his shower. He’d draped himself in a blanket and sat on the floor next to Loki.

This was something Loki had surmised for himself, based on the view he’d gotten of Stephen and the fact that a certain part of his anatomy had appeared rather shrunken.

And now they were sitting there in the dark, only the fire lighting the cabin. Stephen—Strange—was naked under that blanket. This fact sat at the front of Loki’s consciousness. It wouldn’t leave him alone.

“I can’t decide if this is a scene out of a horror movie or not,” Strange said, drawing the blanket around himself.

There had been a point when Loki wouldn’t have understood this joke. He’d spent enough time on Earth now—and enough time around Stephen specifically, who loved to say this kind of thing—that he laughed quietly. “Which one of us would be killed first?”

“Hm.” Stephen breathed in, looking as though he was giving this question far more consideration than it deserved. “Which one of us got top billing in the opening credits?”

“Me, obviously,” Loki replied.

With a wave of his hand, Strange said, “You get offed, then. People won’t expect the big star to get killed first.”

Wrinkling his nose, Loki said, “That’s not fair.”

Stephen looked at him, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “Maybe you’re not really dead, and in a big twist, you come back at the end and save me.”

“Bold of you to assume that I’d save you,” Loki said.

Firelight flickered on Stephen’s face. Norns, you could cut yourself on those cheekbones. Something caught in Loki’s chest and he looked away before he could note the color of Stephen’s eyes—which looked like sea glass, clear and light and crystal.

Too late.

“I think you would,” Stephen said. Strange. Strange said.

“I wouldn’t,” Loki shot back.

The fire spit again. Loki shifted. The movement brought him closer to Strange without quite meaning to. Or perhaps he did mean to? Whenever the two of them spent time together, Loki ended up thinking too much and confusing himself.

Stephen’s blanket was slipping a bit. It was exposing his shoulders, and Loki couldn’t help letting his eyes linger. Close-up, they looked strong, especially considering Stephen was—what, forty-five? Something like that. Not young. Not old, either, but certainly not young. There were freckles strewn across them.

Oh. Loki had always had a weakness for freckles.

Combined with his weakness for goatees, for cheekbones, and for sarcastic, funny, intelligent people, Loki was beginning to think that this cabin, with its one bed and its romantic firelight, was the most dangerous situation he’d ever been in.

His heart was beating faster. When his gaze flicked back up to Stephen’s, it was to find Stephen watching him. There was a look in his eyes that kicked Loki’s heart rate from merely rapid to hammering. It might have been more accurate if Stephen had said this reminded him of a romance rather than a horror movie. Though Loki would be the first to admit that being alone with him was fairly horrific.

Stephen’s hand had drifted to his side, and now only centimeters separated it from Loki’s. If Loki were to move his fingers, he could hook them into Stephen’s with no effort. He could take Stephen’s trembling hand in his and press their palms together.

Except—why would he do that?

Alright, so, yes, there was the way the mere mention of Stephen Strange’s name made fluttery heat bloom in his stomach, the way his heart beat faster when they saw each other. There was the fact that of all the humans Loki had met, Stephen was the only one he wanted to spend hours and hours with, the only one whom he regretted parting from, even though he pretended he didn’t. There were few people, full stop, that Loki regretted seeing the back of. But he always felt a twinge of longing when Stephen and he went their separate ways.

There was the way Stephen made Loki laugh. And there was the way Stephen looked at him.

There was the way Stephen was looking at him now.

Loki pressed his lips together and got to his feet, walking away from the fire. Away from the glow of the flames, it was cold. “We’ve almost burned all the wood,” Loki said. His chest felt tight and he couldn’t decide if he’d just done the exact right thing—or the exact wrong one. “I’ll go outside and get some more.”

The silence behind him made him loathe himself, and that was saying something, considering how much he already hated himself. Was he doing what was right for both of them? No good could come of there being anything between them.

Or was he wrong? Was he the worst kind of coward, telling himself thin, idiotic lies so he didn’t have to face the pain of vulnerability and rejection? Or worse—the prospect that he wouldn’t be rejected at all, but that time would eventually take away something that was so beautiful that Loki couldn’t bear to look at the possibility.

The fire crackled. “Thanks,” Stephen finally said. There was a note of resignation to his voice. At one point, Loki might not have picked up on it. But he knew Stephen now. It hurt. It was getting harder to lie to himself.

Loki nodded and went to open the door. His fingers closed around the doorknob, but then he hesitated. “Stephen,” he said, turning around. When Stephen looked at him, Loki hesitated, then said, “I would come back and save you.”

A small, lopsided smile flickered across Stephen’s face. His eyes still looked like sea glass. “I know you would, Loki.”

[the-lady-writes-what]

Imagine, imagine my shock. Oh, what’s this? Brian Dirty Laundrie has been found? Dead. Hm, well, maybe in his last miserable moments he was able to live out Gabbie Petito’s. I would call him a garbage person, but that’s an insult to trash. What a fucking coward. He was either killed by the elements or offed himself to get out of being arrested. Motherfucker. How much of a disgraceful piece of shit do you have to be in order to murder the person who trusted and loved you, leave her corpse out in the woods, drive to mom and dad’s place, and then try to evade the police and DOG THE BOUNTY HUNTER only to die alone out in the Florida wilderness. 

I hope that a mountain lion got him. I swear to god if his autopsy came back as a suicide, I’ll be so mad. This bastard couldn’t even have the balls to own up to murdering someone you supposedly cared about and killed himself instead of facing justice? The only karma (and I’m aware that this is in the Western sense of karma not the actual way it works in Hinduism) is that his punk ass was found in the woods and he hopefully died a slow, painful death. Rest in pieces, you fucking disgusting son of a bitch.

[lucysnowe]

Happy Holidays! 

This is my @toa-secret-santa gift for @actuallyadroid! Since you asked for “Usurna being regal,” I wrote her a bit of an origin story. Read it below or an ao3 here. I hope you enjoy it! 

“Rise, Usurna, Queen of the Krubera.”

Her mother had never had much patience for whelps. Usurna remembered a legion of tutors in diplomacy, languages, the arts of geology, and even some dabbling in Troll magic, but perhaps the clearest moments were when her mother summoned Usurna to her private caves.

Even centuries later, Usurna would always remember how her mother exuded regality. It was something she constantly tried to emulate. The long robes of Ancient Troll society had long gone out of favor among most tribes, most Trolls preferring the simpler garb of short kilts or tunics made of crude leather. She couldn’t imagine why. She thought she cut a dashing figure in her flowing robes, made of a soft material, what humans called silk, pilfered from the human’s own stock (Usurna believed—no, knew, that humans were inferior in every way. But she could admit their soft fabrics had their own beauty). After all, she’d learned from the best how a Queen dresses herself.

She rarely saw her mother in her childhood, so the times she was allowed to even be in the Troll Queen’s presence were special occasions. Tense, but special. Her mother’s presence tended to leave her mesmerized, to the point she was too absorbed in admiring her mother to hear her lessons.

“Usurna, are you listening to me?” Her mother asked, her accent a crisp reflection of High Trollish, the language preferred by all royals.

“Yes, Mother.”

“I bear a great burden, my daughter. One day, that burden will fall to you. We are the Krubera. We act on their behalf; we represent them in Troll society, to those outsiders that do not have the strength to travel to our deepest caves. The Krubera are only as strong as its rulers are.”

“Vangaar says that strength is tempered by humility.” She said, recalling the words of one of her tutors.

“Remind me to dismiss Vangaar, because if he says that, then he is a fool. Strength, Usurna, is the absence of weakness. All vulnerabilities must be hidden, so that no one, be they enemy or ally, can ever take advantage of you.”

Her mother’s words echoed in Usurna’s mind as she heard the clapping of hundreds of Krubera around her. Barely 400, and here she was, at her own coronation. All the wisdom her mother possessed, gone. Killed defending her Tribe from Gumm-Gumm raiders. Rumor spread that Lord Gunmar himself was the one who delivered the killing blow. A rumor Usurna started herself. Frankly, she had no idea who’d slain her mother, but she couldn’t have her mother’s reputation sullied because she’d gotten herself offed by some random foot soldier.

Coronations were a rare enough occasion that the festivities were meant to last at least a week. Usurna tired of them after about an hour. She’d never been much for large crowds, and it wasn’t as though she was doing much celebrating herself. She’d mostly sat to the sides as emissaries from various Troll tribes brought her gifts. Most Trolls couldn’t go to the depths of the Krubera caverns, so they’d held the festival in one of their highest caverns. Still, she could see the caves taking their toll on some of the Trolls; a Conundrum diplomat near her looked nauseated. Good. Let them see they could never hope to infiltrate her home.

She was shaken from her thoughts by the appearance of her guards. “My lady, Gumm-Gumms! A whole squadron approach!”

How dare he? First he kills her mother, and now Gunmar has the audacity to invade her home at her coronation. How could she recover from these twin blows to her dignity as a sovereign?

Already she could see civilian Trolls fleeing. “Fear not. We will show them the might of the Krubera. Guards! Ready yourselves!”

She silently reviewed her combat training to herself. She didn’t care much for fighting, but she’d enjoying sitting in on her mother’s generals’ strategy meetings. This dress wouldn’t do for a battle, unfortunately. She hoped she didn’t ruin it.

From the reaction of her guards and the other Trolls, she’d expected the caves to be flooded with Gumm-Gumms, so she was shocked to see that it was in truth only a group of five. She couldn’t be sure that more didn’t lurk elsewhere, but still—her guards had clearly overreacted.

“We bring a gift. From the Underlord.” The faceless Gumm-Gumm soldier that led the group spoke directly to her. She could make out no distinguishing characteristic beneath their armor. It was unnerving to see these enemies so close, but she clasped her hands to stop them from shaking.

What she hadn’t noticed before was that the Gumm-Gumm actually held a bundle in their arms, something wrapped in a cheap fabric. The soldier made a big show of tossing it to the ground, the fabric flouncing as though it was the silk she wore. What was in the bundle clattered as though it was made of metal—

There, on the ground, sat her mother’s armor.

With no delay, her guards rounded up the Gumm-Gumms and had them summarily executed. Knowing what she did about the Underlord, the lives of a few of his soldiers meant very little to him. Perhaps he’d even intended for them to die in her caves. Still, it felt good to watch them die.

***

The soldiers in front of her were battered and dirty. Usurna had a feeling she knew what news they brought.

“There were more Gumm-Gumms than we anticipated, your Highness. We were able to fight them off—but barely. Most of my soldiers lie dead in the caverns.”

This new defeat left her fuming. Had she been able to speak her mind, she would have called him what he was: a pathetic coward. But she didn’t dare show how frustrated she was. How scared.

“Go back to your soldiers, General. Get as many healers as you can find and scour the battlecaves for any soldiers still living. We’ll discuss further strategy at the council meeting this evening.”

He nodded and turned to go. His mate waited for him, the couple’s whelp in her arms. Usurna forgot the child’s name, despite officiating its Naming Ceremony. She did so for the children of most high-ranking Krubera, but since new whelps were born so infrequently she rarely had cause to. Urgamont, maybe? Her General lifted the whelp gently, touched its forehead to his. Usurna frowned. Ever since his whelp’s birth, her General had been distracted. She thought back to her mother, who’d never allowed any affection for her daughter to cloud her judgment or interfere with her role as Queen. This General had been an appointment from her mother’s era—for the first time, she questioned her mother’s choices. Perhaps he’d been loyal as a young, childless Troll, but now she wondered: just where did his loyalties lie?

With a huff, Usurna walked (“Never run, Usurna, a Queen never lets others think you’re in a hurry) back to her private chambers. She let out a shaky breath. Something else breathed behind her. She turned, face-to-face with the Underlord himself.

“Your warriors suffered greatly today, your Highness.”

Decades of fighting against him, but Usurna had never been so close to Gunmar in her life. He towered over her, his long horns threatening to brush against the top of the caves. How had he gotten in here?

“To what do I owe the pleasure, my Lord? How rare it is for guests to come unannounced to my rooms.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries. I despise them.” He breathed in her face, hot and rancid. “Your army is dwindling. My Gumm-Gumm soldiers will obliterate them soon enough. You and your Tribe will fall by my sword. I offer an alternative scenario.”

“How generous of you.”

“Pledge your loyalty to me and all the Krubera with the Gumm-Gumms. The Krubera are mighty, but on their own are no match for my soldiers. But together, we could be invincible. I will even allow you to keep your sovereignty, as you rule beneath me.”

She would be lying if she said she’d never considered surrendering to Gunmar. What he said was true—the Krubera’s defeat was imminent, and if the Krubera, with their extraordinary physical prowess and strategically significant isolation, couldn’t protect themselves from Gunmar, what Troll tribes could? This was a losing battle, and perhaps it would be for the best if the Krubera joined the winning side. Especially with such a tempting offer, one that happened to keep her in (relative) power. But—

“But the Krubera would never surrender to you, my Lord. We are a willful group, you see, and if I allied with you after your armies have wrecked such devastation, it would only breed unrest and division. But—

She thought once again of her General, his whelp in his arms. Where did her Tribe’s loyalties lie, if she was so sure they would rebel against her decisions as Queen? How would she look, still so new to her role as Queen, what would her legacy be, if she surrendered to the enemy mere decades into her reign? The memory of her mother still lingered in most Krubera’s minds, as it did hers. She must remember her mother’s strength, embody her mother’s strength, to gain the respect of her Tribe. She needed a plan. There must be a way to motivate her Tribe, keep them under her sway, while still garnering the favor (and protection) of the Underlord.

“You want Krubera soldiers? Fine. You want my loyalty? Fine. But I will not reveal my allegiances to my Tribe until the time is right. Until they believe it is a lost cause, that you are truly the future and hope of all Trolls. Until they trust me unconditionally. It may be a while, but we have nothing but time. In the meantime, you will stage a raid on the Krubera. We will bravely but narrowly fight you off. But not before you’ve kidnapped our whelps and most impressionable youths. Train them, put them at the end of that blasted Decimaar blade I’ve heard so much about, do whatever you will, and they will obey you. I will use my Troll’s anger and desperation against them, to sway them to your side, until the time comes they will all join you willingly on the battlefield.”

***

“My citizens,” she began, surrounded by hundreds of concerned faces, “we have suffered terrible losses today. But we have not been defeated. The battle is not lost. We still have our strength. That strength can never be taken away, by Gunmar or any other Troll in the Earth. If we double down on our efforts, fight back harder and stronger than we ever have, we will defeat our enemies—conquer them and demonstrate that we are the superior Tribe.”

“But to win, we must make sacrifices. We must put aside our own desires and allegiances for the greater good. It is only when we are united under a common goal—under one leader— that we will have any chance of defeating the evil at our threshold. I hope that I have acted as a Queen must: to serve and direct the good of the Krubera. As my mother did before me. And I will continue to serve you until the evil is vanquished!”

A few trolls cheered, until her General stepped up. “Your words are wise, my Queen. We will fight with strength and courage. For the Krubera! For Aarghaumont! For Usurna, Queen of the Krubera!”

[lackcharisma]

  ok but hear me out for my poor ramblings as I wake up:

part of the thing that I love about Dwight is that, canonically and in fandom opinion, he’s unremarkably average. Mediocre. Stereotypically speaking, he’s that sweet and squishy but generally unhelpful coward in a horror movie who'd either a) be one of the first to die, without being given much of a chance to scream or b) skate through it on luck and an uncanny ability to not get found. He slowly grows a backbone, and then by the end gets offed anyway as one of the last to die---particularly when everyone thinks they may actually get through this.

That is to say, Dwight is the epitome of potential: worthless when untapped; productive to the point of being self-sacrificing when freshly squeezed.

On the surface level, Dwight is what he appears --- he bleeds a self-critical hyper-awareness that he’s “shit” and that everyone else has something to offer. Imposter syndrome at its finest. He holds the nihilistic vibe of the kid who was promised to carry himself and his society into a bright future; and then at last when the keys to the kingdom were passed into his possession, they were broken, half-rusted---a mantle not worth carrying. Dwight bleeds millennial pink and other subsequently dusty, muted colors. They are not particularly bold or loud, nor are they entirely displeasing to look at. There is an irony in existing merely to exist---a sort of detached matter-of-factness that declares its right to simply be. 

It’s this authority which allows Dwight to lead as he does. Regardless of what he lacked or did not provide to his community or family or friend group from before, Dwight operates under the demand that he DESERVES to live the life that is granted to him. That is: however he deems fit and fulfilling.

And he’ll fight for that----for himself and for others. 

The willingness and sheer audacity to do so, despite poor odds, is what makes Dwight Fairfield, truly, remarkable. 

[dangermousie]

Hercai ep 3 - get out your tissues

OK - short version - this was brutal. In destroying Reyyan, Miran has destroyed his own peace and hope for happiness. And he richly deserves all the torment he’s gonna get and more. I hope someone shanks him. 

You know what’s truly patheric? Reyyan’s dad. 

He is a wealthy, respectable adult. And he still can’t stand up to his old father to protect his beloved, innocent daughter. Yeah, help her run away barefoot, great idea. Hope her cousin won’t shoot her, even better. Just face off with your father, coward! Miran may be a person beyond forgiveness, but at least he has balls. But frankly, I am Team Azad aka the lovelorn cousin because he actually stood up for Reyyan and was going to run away and protect her, something every freaking other man (or woman) in this show has spectacularly failed to do.

Oh, and it’s official. After everything Reyyan went through in this ep, I genuinely do not see how she can get over it and forgive Miran ever, and for me to be OK with it as a viewer. I mean, anything is possible - Fatmagul managed to sell me on Fatmagul x Kerim, and the beginning of that relationship makes Hercai seem an exemplar of emotional health, but still. I mean, the scene where the memories of her wedding night are intercut with her setting the house with herself in it on fire - that alone is something you never let go of.

And all the stuff that happens to her afterwards? Also not forgivable. And Miran caused it. Yeah, not seeing the future there.

I looooooved his freakout at his mother’s grave that he got vengeance but it feels like his heart is burning and that he lost a part of himself. SUFFERRRRRR

And his face when he thought Reyyan died. 

YESSS. Granny was so fixated on her revenge she didn’t care what it was doing to her grandson - I am not Miran’s greatest fan, but if he thought she killed herself over him, I don’t think he could have lived with it. Not that granny cares - she wrecked her granddaughter’s life also. That marriage is going to remain in name only no matter what else happens. And yet they had a chance - as granddaughter says, she and Miran got into bed just fine once they got married and then Granny burst in and dragged him away because bonking would make him weak or something (that family has no boundary understanding.) But then the other son of granny was a violent abuser so that whole family is bad seed.

OK, to get back to the OTP. I was bitterly amused that it took Miran about less than a day to realize what a mistake he made and try to get Reyyan back (and I may or may not have squealed when he put his wedding ring on the same chain as his mother’s ring.) I got the sense he was acting out of sheer freakout the whole ep - 100% emotion and not thinking at all. I mean, he broke into Reyyan’s family’s mansion - his friend had his hands full trying to keep him alive and not getting offed as a result of his suicidal stunts, the whole ep. I am very sure he has no long term plan, he hasn’t thought it through at all - he just wants to take Reyyan away from the very nightmare that he caused - he’s not even considering what Granny would say or w/e. Pure id. I wanted to stick him face first into the mess he made, like a puppy - but at least he had balls and brains to do something, which is more than most of her misbegotten family thought to do (I love that Grandpa realizes it’s not Reyyan’s fault and even then gives no fucks - he wants her married or dead.)

Granny, aha Mob Grandma, with her all black and gun toting retainers, is a repulsive individual (and her saying to Reyyan’s family that vengeance was for her son and not mentioning her daughter in law confirms my belief that Hazar had nothing to do with Miran’s mom’s death) but this scene was AWESOME. I hope she and evil grandpa kill each other.

The final confrontation on the bridge!!!!!! I loved it when she told him he is dead  to her.

And then her ending of that macho standoff between Azad and Miran by telling Azad she won’t go with him, and when Miran brightens, assuming it means she will go with him, she tells him that she wouldn’t go even to paradise with him. And that she took his hand once, but she’d die rather than take it again. IN YOUR FACE!!! (I love that he genuinely seemed to believe she wanted to be taken away/rescued by him. The degree of self-delusion is spectacular. She may have loved him and was a trusting little kitten with him but after what he did, how can he think she’ d be a-ok treating the past as nothing and happily skipping off with him.) 

AND SHE JUMPS OFF THE BRIDGE AND HE DOESN’T HESITATE BUT JUMPS OFF AFTER HER!!!!!!! (Like he said he will do on the swing - the false promise became the reality.) OMG THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS I NEED NEXT EP NOW. 

So yes, he’s basically a headcase with no understanding of proper morality or human emotions, but a spine he definitely has. I guess he goes all out in obsession, whether obsession is revenge or Reyyan.

PS I hope Yaren is eaten by rabid weasels, she’s beyond awful. 

[lupienne]

Per the last ask I got about Negan and Tara, I thought I’d post a few excerpts from my ‘Search for Sanctuary’ WIP which is about pre-Savior Negan. It’s nothing special, just a couple of Negan/Tara moments.

(just a random scene where Negan and the group are looking through a house. Maybe after they leave the hotel.)

This guy's garage was reminiscent of my own. A punching bag. A calendar of Sport's Illustrated Swimsuit edition covers. (Hey, it's uh... sports related, ok?) It stunk like death. The cause was soon apparent. The home owner was slumped in his older model toyota. The gas was long gone and the car dead, of course, but he must have offed himself with the carbon monoxide.

For a moment, I envied him. How lovely it must be, to slip away from all this shit. To just sleep, a sleep so deep it's dreamless.

“Ugh. Fucking reeks in here!” Tara peered into the garage, coughing. “Ugh, Negan. Come on.”

The home owner didn't move. I moved closer, seeing a knife mark in the side of his head. Someone had been here, then. Seen fit to give this guy the rest he'd worked so hard to obtain.

“You ever...think about that...?” I jerked my thumb towards the car as I moved towards the door to the house.

“What? When people kill theirselves?”

“No. Like... doing it.”

She frowned, sucking her lip ring. “No. That's a coward's way.”

“It ain't like he had anyone around to let down, or anyone to miss him, obviously. Fucker had nothing left.”

“He was still breathing. He still had years left.”

“What kind of years, though? Why exactly are we sticking it out?”

“Quit talking like that, Negan.” She was getting pretty fucking tense. Sucking the ring in and spitting it out, over and over. “You wanna kill yourself, you make sure you're far away from me. I don't wanna know about it.” “Awww. I knew you cared.”

That didn't get a smile out of her. I changed the subject. “This place stripped, or what? Someone stabbed the dude, so someone's been here.”

“We found a few things. Not much. The house was picked through, for sure.”

(This scene takes place when Negan and his crew are at the shopping mall where he kills that guy and gets cut up by barbed wire. he and Tara are exploring some of the stores in the mall and Negan goes into a music store. Earlier, Sherry was talking about how she liked old-school Madonna music)

“Well, I'll be damned. Like A Prayer.” I lifted up the Madonna CD and tucked it into the inside pocket of my coat.

I snagged a 70's rock compilation. Hell yeah. I couldn't live the rest of my life without hearing 'Carry on Wayward Son' ever again.  

“Ok. Now I gotta find the important music.” I headed for the 'Y's.' “The Yardbirds, fuck no. Yo-yo Ma? Fuck no!”

There we go. The tab labeled 'Young, Neil'. I began flipping through the various discs.

“Negan...” I heard Tara from the front of the store.

I kept flipping through, my aggravation growing steadily. “What the shit?”

Tara appeared next to me, frowning. “We should go. Or at least go somewhere with actual useful things.”

I grunted, then announced this latest tragedy. “They don't have Harvest Moon. Un-fucking-believable.”

“What's Harvest Moon? Some kind of folk band?”

“Surely you jest, woman. Neil Young? Harvest Moon.”

“That's the guy that sings Sweet Caroline right?”

“Don't make me knock those earrings right out of your face. That was Neil-fucking-Diamond who ain't fit to share the same name as-”

She stepped forward while I ranted, tugging the corner of Like a Prayer from my inside pocket. I knocked her hand away, while she grinned.

“Ooh. Negan. Are you a closeted Material Girl?”

“Madonna was hot.”

Yeah, she was. I'd get on my knees for her.”

Well goddamn me, if Little Negan didn't go and fucking twitch over that. Tara sucked her lip ring into her mouth, smirking evil-like.

“I can put on a pair of cone-titties and you can pretend I'm her.” I puffed out my chest.

“Get rid of that cone between your legs and I'll think about it.”

I zipped my coat up, shaking my head. “Then what would I fuck you with? My nose?”

“Whatever you use, it'd better than a piece of swinging meat.” She smirked some more and gave me a shove. “Come on.”

I thumbed through Neil Young's tab one more time, resigning myself to pocketing his greatest hits CD.

As we headed for the door, a wave of dizziness swept me. I put my hand against one of the CD racks, drawing in a deep breath. Fuck. I felt so hot.

“Negan? You ok?”

“Yeah.” I tried to shake the dizziness from my head. I put my hand to my side, feeling the warmth of my injury seeping through the bandage. “I don't know. Maybe this cut is infected.”

[because-i-say-so]

AHS Apocalypse Finale Thoughts, Reactions, and Unpopular Opinions (I Think)

So last night was the finale. Overall, I was kind of disappointed with the season in general. A lot of it has to do with the way the storyline played out. Now, let me explain. We were introduced to a bunch of new characters in the first episode, and I was down for it all; a whole new cast of characters, all in the same vein as this anthology series has been. That being said, yes, I was aware that this would be a crossover season, and we’d be seeing other characters from both Murder House and Coven... but let’s be honest, this season was really Coven 2.0. The entire plot was centered around the witches stopping the Antichrist. I wasn’t disappointed with that, on the contrary, I was actually excited because I loved Coven and seeing these characters again was wonderful. What I wasn’t too keen on was that we spent 7 episodes in a flashback. I get it, we needed the flashback to see what happened to get us to the Apocalypse, but did we really need to spend 7 episodes on it? Honestly some of those episodes were just filler and didn’t really push the plot along. While the finale didn’t feel that rushed, I didn’t feel like there was too much thought put into it, kind of like they built the whole season around the finale. Just my feelings. All in all, the whole season was basically fan service, so that I am grateful for.

So on to my episode reaction. Just because I didn’t like the season as a whole, didn’t mean that I was going into the finale without a shit ton of feelings. Absolutely not. I had a lot of feelings going into this episode, that I had my bottle of wine at the ready to help cope with it all.

Myrtle Snow was so, so great in this episode. That woman is not afraid to spill the tea, and has zero regrets doing so. Also, did she plant the idea of purple being a royal color in Ms. Venable’s head? She dressed in purple secretly in the Outpost. She did favor herself as important, because she was the “leader” of the Outpost, but I guess she technically was only “middle management” after all.

I wonder why we weren’t treated to Mutt and Jeff’s deaths.

I love Coco. She really has a kind heart, and damn, I just felt so bad for her when she was going to be placed under the identity spell. She was just so sad knowing that her family was going to die, and then she was just like “fuck no I don’t want to be like Madison.” (Does anyone remember when she was on that show Popular? I was getting Mary Cherry vibes when she was identity spell!Coco.)

So did anyone notice that the remaining witches were hiding out in the Louisiana swamps where they placed the identity spells on Coco and Mallory... and then magically the two are in LA with Madison at the wheel, driving them to Gallant’s salon? I’m sitting here trying to figure this one out... because unless Madison took a fast as hell jet back to the swamps and in the same clothes... Two different states, man.

Also wondering how the hell Cordelia, Myrtle, and Madison survived the nuclear fallout. Protection spell maybe? Louisiana mud was kind of a weak explanation.

MARIE. FUCKING. LEVEAU.

I cheered. Such a nice surprise. Too bad she didn’t survive Michael. Just got back from hell, and now she’s going back. Totally not fair. Actually, she’s still there, torturing Madame LaLaurie, as it turns out... since you know, Cordelia didn’t need to get her out of hell in the end.

Let me talk about Cordelia for a second. We all knew she had to die for Mallory to become the Supreme. I was so sad, and yet I saw it coming a mile away. She, hands down, had the BEST line of the episode. 

Cordelia, you are selfless and full of heart. You ARE the FUCKING Supreme.

And now, on to Michael The-Punk-Ass-Antichrist Langdon. I’m sorry, but even though I love this character, he really was a punk in this episode. Cordelia was right when she said he was coward.

He was so sure of himself. When Cordelia offed herself, it was beautiful. I’m guessing he was upset because he couldn’t erase her soul from existence like he did Queenie and Zoe, since he didn’t directly kill her himself? Anyway, this moment was wonderful. Finally, something put legitimate fear into Michael.

Time travel is a tricky, tricky thing. I wish we could have seen what exactly made Constance go savage on Michael in the re-do of the past. Did Mallory do/say something before this to make her rethink her previous decision? I feel like there was some sort of exchange between them for her to just go and kick Michael out of the house like that. Her rant had me SHOOK. (Bravo Jessica Lange, you are still the Queen of AHS.)

Listen, you can’t have a 7-episode character development arc for Michael and have me not catch feelings for this boy. Every chance he got to have a loving family, someone to care for him, any loving contact... it got ripped away from him in the worst way possible. I was on the sympathy train for him, even though he was the Antichrist. Yes, the Antichrist is inherently evil, and I’ve said that before, but the way his story unfolded, it really did feel like he was being controlled by outside forces driving him to end up the way he did. I think that Michael, not the Antichrist, was just a little boy that wanted to be loved and accepted but was denied that at every turn. There wasn’t any other way it could go, either.

So yeah, I felt bad for him. Remember, he’s technically only a 9/10-year-old kid in a grown man’s body an the Outpost. How else do you expect a 9/10-year-old kid to act when that much power is put in front of them?

Then, in a wholly anti-climactic way, Michael was run over by Mallory. Repeatedly. (Why she didn’t just run over his head, I don’t know. Maybe she wanted him to feel pain. Whatever.) And that was it. I was hoping for a showdown, not this emotional sting:

I think that in the end, Michael was the little 5/6-year-old boy Constance wanted to raise. He didn’t understand why this was happening to him, and it’s kind of heartbreaking. When he asked to be taken to the house, though, Constance knew that couldn’t happen... that was the evil talking. She just couldn’t take the chance that the evil could still exist.

Constance, you did good.

And just like that, the Michael we all came to know and love through the entire season was snapped out of existence. Fuck.

((Side note: Cody Fern did a phenomenal job with Michael this season. I could gush like crazy about his acting chops, but I’ll leave it at that. Michael Langdon has cemented himself as one of my favorite characters of all time. I would love to see Cody in another season of AHS playing a completely different character. That is all.))

Oh, and Tim and Emily were always destined to meet, and their “perfect” DNA produces another Antichrist. I guess it’s just inevitable. I wish the end of the episode was just panning out on the shot of the new Antichrist and his parents, with the dead babysitter. It would have felt more full-circle. The appearance of Anton LeVay and his cardinals was just... overkill.

Other thoughts: Tate and Violet didn’t get their “happy ending.” (Thank God because I didn’t agree with that forgiveness mess at all. Fight me.) But neither did Moira. (That’s a little upsetting, because it was very beautiful, and she deserved it.) Hey the warlocks still exist, but we’re just going to pretend that all the ones we were introduced to aren’t important anymore. Myrtle was never brought back, and while that’s good, her one-liners never existed this season either. Constance is alive! Queenie lives and never goes to the Hotel Cortez! Misty gets brought back and we even got to see Nan again! (Thanks, Mallory.) And poor Madison’s character development never happened because she’s still stuck in retail hell.

The last episode left me... in a mood, and with a half-empty bottle of wine.

[elizas-writing]

How I Would Fix The Last Jedi

So it’s been a while since The Last Jedi premiered and with the initial hype and anger settling down, more people are looking at it through a proper critical lens. The more posts I see critiquing The Last Jedi, the more I’m starting to realize it’s got a lot more problems than I thought. Don’t get me wrong, I still like it and found certain elements the best of the franchise, but perhaps I focused a little too much on being positive just to drown out all the anger (which to be fair, most of it was unwarranted to begin with). And thankfully now that most of the more pissy fanboys quieted down, I can post this in peace.

This film’s biggest problem was the lack of a good editor to keep the pacing consistent and allot the right amount of character development for everyone. So I’ll be addressing some of the major concerns with The Last Jedi and analyzing where and how problems could be fixed.

1. Leia’s Fate

Given Carrie Fisher’s death, some fans were anticipating Leia would possibly be killed off during The Last Jedi. But since she’s still alive at the very end, now they’re going to have to find a way to do that off screen unless they have enough spare footage from The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi to fill the gaps. To be totally fair with how much they filmed with Carrie, this was probably the best they could do without reshooting most of the film and pushing back the release date. Plus, this is the last time we’ll get to see her--- let me have Super Leia in Space. I think the only way they could work around this would be to record lines mentioning her depleting health given how long she was in space, even with using the Force to save herself. It’d at least give some foreshadowing that maybe she won’t make it to see the Rebellion win and drive our main heroes to follow in her footsteps.

2. No Memorial for Han Solo?

Yes, more than two years passed and the shock of Han Solo’s death faded for the fans, but for the characters, only mere hours passed. Leia lost her husband, Chewie lost a best friend, Rey lost a father figure, and Luke lost a brother-in-law. They should still be torn up about this, especially Luke given all his guilt on failing his nephew. It’s really hard to believe that there wasn’t even so much as a memorial for one of the greatest heroes of the Rebellion. Imagine how much more gut-wrenching the opening would be if they were caught off guard while mourning Han.

 I want more of Rey depressed and angry that the one father figure she’s known was offed by his own son without mercy. I want more of Luke’s guilt eating him which increases his reluctance towards training cause he doesn’t know if this will happen again and who else he’ll lose. Han’s death should still have a massive impact on the story and where the Resistance will go without a legendary fighter with such a special spark you won’t find anywhere else in the galaxy.

3. Admiral Holdo’s Reckless Shit

It’s really hard to gauge if I actually like Admiral Holdo because the film is back-and-forth between pulling the rug from under us with the character drama and forgetting the high stakes of their present situations. I get that Poe is hot-headed and needs to learn patience, but c’mon, you’re losing precious ships and lives the longer you stall and don’t just tell this trigger-happy nut what’s going on. She has no reason to be so secretive, and it’s just plain irresponsible given the small size of the Resistance. There’s no effort on her end as a leader to work together with some people, and unfairly talks down to them like children. And I know Leia does this too with Poe when she demoted him, but they have a quasi-mother/son dynamic where it works because they were working together longer than Poe has with Holdo. They might as well be strangers for almost two hours.

I definitely don’t hate Holdo as much as the rest of the fandom does, but we need more of her side with nuance on the divide and finding balance between fighting and self-preservation, especially as she leads in place of Leia and the two were close friends for decades. But you don’t get that connection and how much the Resistance means to her mere minutes before she dies. She comes off way too heartless than necessary for this side-plot. And it sucks because it’s a fascinating struggle between action and self-preservation in regards to rebellion and knowing when to do what to make actual progress, but it’s buried too deep in the subtext underneath the needless bickering between Holdo and Poe. Just show what she’s up to from the get-go, validate her reasoning, and allow her to be a likable character so her major sacrifice actually feels earned and not a last minute sympathy grab for Poe to learn a lesson.

4. What was Benicio del Toro’s Character Again?

Oh yeah, DJ.... I legit had to Google to remember the character’s two-letter name. And if that’s not enough to say he has no purpose in this movie, I don’t know what is. I get that he’s supposed to parallel Lando Calrissian when he tricks Han Solo back in Empire Strikes Back. But while Lando still had screentime afterwards to double-cross the Empire and join the Rebellion anyway, DJ just freaking disappears, and it’s never addressed what happens to him after turning in Finn and Rose. Honestly, if you wrote him out of the movie, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. And it sucks, because this side plot had great themes going on with war profiteering and the apathy towards both the Resistance and the First Order so long as one has something to gain from their deals.

If you’re going to parallel Lando’s arc from Empire, don’t cut it short when it’s getting good and have DJ consider the consequences of his actions, regardless if he joins the Resistance or not. Set up some foreshadowing for the next movie where DJ is completely working for the First Order or the Resistance and realizes how much picking a side does matter with rising authoritarianism. It has great potential for whether or not he’s redeemed with how long his apathy will take hold so long as he makes a quick buck.

Or better yet, just entirely replace DJ with an older Lando who lost his sense of hope with the rise of the First Order and hides away on Canto Bight waiting for age to catch up to him, living in blissful ignorance while the rest of the galaxy crumbles. He’s the decoder Finn and Rose were looking for all along and this was Maz’s way to coerce Lando back into the Rebellion. Much like Luke, Lando is reluctant to fight and see any hope, but upon hearing of Han’s death and Leia’s condition, regret eats him for all the years he spent away from his closest friends and just wasting his life on gambling and drinking. He finally agrees to help Finn and Rose, but they only get so far before getting caught by the First Order, just barely escaping with their lives and reuniting with the rest of the Resistance for the film’s climax.

5. Finn Overcoming Stormtrooper Past

I think this deleted scene speaks for itself on all the missed opportunity in developing Finn. That’s not to say he’s totally devoid of screentime as it’s still fun to see him with Rose exploring Canto Bight and getting caught up in their own misadventures. But many were hoping this would be the perfect time to explore his traumatic past and how Stormtroopers work in this world. Maybe he’d try to go back, save them from the brainwashing and help them realize they’re just senselessly murdering innocent people for nothing.

Holdo even has a line where she refers to Finn as a Stormtrooper almost in disgust, so you’d think there would be more time to show his change over to the Resistance and proving himself not just as a powerful ally, but someone who is more than their past. Someone who can finally break the cycle of children being taken away from their families to become disposable soldiers. But his battle with Phasma comes and goes so quickly and doesn’t leave as big of an impact as it should, and much like Force Awakens it feels like they’re playing great cards far too early. This deleted scene works so much better when you see the gears turning in the Stormtroopers when they realize their leader is just a massive coward, and it ends perfectly with Finn proudly calling himself “rebel scum.” It’s still beyond me why this scene was scrapped. They either needed to keep this  in or have Phasma survive and make a grand final battle for Episode IX.

I want that spark of rebellion to ignite in the Stormtroopers where they realize “wait, what the hell are we even fighting for?” and dismantle the First Order from the inside out by Episode IX. It’d make a great parallel to the prequels and Order 66 but completely recontextualized in a story of rebellion and redemption. Throw in some of the Resistance saving children from growing up into soldiers, tragically epic scenes of sacrifice, and boom, there’s a climax of Episode IX practically writing itself.

6. Shut up Ben Solo-Organa

Now, I like Kylo Ren as a villain-- he’s similar to Anakin Skywalker’s whininess in the prequels except made legitimately terrifying with the fragile toxic masculinity of wanting to be stronger and powerful by any means necessary. However, I can’t do the woobifying, both from large sects of the fandom and Rian Johnson. I would be a lot more forgiving of his character development in The Last Jedi if Johnson made Kylo Ren’s intents more clear without implying any romance between him and Rey-- fucking really (and sorry, not sorry, the only thing I ship Kylo with is a swift kick in the ass).

I get that we need temptations of the dark side as part of the classic Star Wars story, and I love the twist on it where Kylo turning to the dark side was ultimately his choice and not because Luke failed him-- especially as killing Snoke didn’t flip him back to the light like when Vader killed the Emperor. But the heart of that particular recontextualization should be on the student-teacher relationship between Rey and Luke and not Kylo Ren sniveling like an infant. It walks a thin line of making Kylo Ren almost too sympathetic and forgetting how he ended up with the First Order to begin with. I don’t care how many puppy dog faces he makes; as shown by the end of the film, he’s not ready for redemption, if it will ever be in his grasp. His excess screentime of what we already know undermines Rey and Luke’s relationship which should be the focus of the former’s arc in The Last Jedi. But unfortunately, it isn’t as strong as it was with Luke and Yoda or Obi-wan and Anakin because the film has to juggle with a dozen other plotlines and characters.

Hopefully with J.J Abrams back in the directing chair, maybe he can steer the focus back on the films and what the fans really want. Granted, I don’t think The Last Jedi deserved nearly the level of vitriol it got within the last year, but even I couldn’t ignore some of the major problems and missed opportunities to get its themes across.

If you enjoyed this fix-it and what I do here, consider buying me a ko-fi to show your support!

[er-fightmaster]

➜ BIO

Jay Dalton was born with a legacy to uphold. There were two things the Dalton family were always strict about; their duty and their reputation. The Daltons had been Hunters for generations, the kind that thought they were better than everyone else. Jay’s mother claimed the heritage could be traced back to those who had served the British Monarchy hundreds of years earlier before the family moved to America. He never provided any actual proof of that, but Jay knew better than to argue. From youth, he was educated in fencing and archery alongside his letters and numbers, and once he was old enough to understand, lessons in recognising and hunting the supernatural joined the fray. 

Archery turned to the shooting range, a fencing foil to silver knives, but Jay never cared to join his family on the hunt. The first time he was dragged along as a teen, he stayed in the truck playing Nintendo the whole time and was lectured by his parents for being a coward afterwards. They kept trying to convince him, but eventually had to accept that their son had no interest in joining the family business. That was probably why he lost track of when the full moon was, and was taking out the garbage one night when he was pounced on, the wolf’s fangs embedded deep in his torso. 

The wolf who bit him was a long-time rival of the Daltons. After years of trading blows with the Dalton family, a grudge inherited from parents and pack members, generations killing one another back and forth, this was almost the sweetest victory the wolf could have asked for; the apple of the Daltons’ eyes, becoming one of them. 

He has no memory of his first transformation. What he remembers is waking up in the family basement in silver chains, his skin red raw from the weight of them. When his parents told him what had happened, solemn and quiet, he almost didn’t believe them, but he could tell from the depth of mourning in their eyes and their pained voices that they were right.

His father couldn’t bring himself to kill his unarmed son, no matter what he had become, so he told Jay he’d give him a fighting chance, unfastening his restraints and handing him a knife. Jay barely had time to protest before his father lunged at him with his own blade. They fought, but perhaps the weight of his father’s emotion was too much for him to carry alongside his duty, and Jay got away, breaking through the basement door and disappearing into the woods before eventually doubling back to his apartment to gather up as many of his things as he could and going on the run. 

Jay knew he couldn’t survive without a pack, but no wolf in the local area wanted to help him. They knew the Dalton name and turned him away outright. After several close encounters with Hunters, Jay decided to leave Connecticut altogether and search for somewhere new. Somewhere he could be safe. 

➜ BASICS

FULL NAME: Jameson Alexander Dalton AKA(S): Jay BIRTHDAY: August 3rd  STAR SIGN: Leo SPECIES: Werewolf ORIENTATION: Bisexual GENDER: Cisgender Male (He/him/his) OCCUPATION(S): Student. Twitch Streamer PRIMARY VERSE: Supernatural

➜ APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM: Jordan Fisher EYE COLOR(S): Brown HAIR COLOR(S): Black HEIGHT: 5′7″ BODY BUILD: Slender, slight DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: Heavily tattooed, werewolf bite scar on left side TATTOOS: Half sleeve on left arm, musical note behind ear PIERCINGS: Ears, nostril 

➜ BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: New Haven, Connecticut FINANCIAL STATUS: Upper Middle Class EDUCATION LEVEL: College Student ETHNICITY: Nigerian, Cambodian, English, Tahitian, Italian, Greek, and Scandinavian ACCENT: North-Eastern United States RELIGION: None

➜ HEALTH

FEARS: Death, rejection, hunters, his family MENTAL: N/A PHYSICAL: Lycanthropy

➜ PERSONALITY

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good MYERS-BRIGGS TYPE: INFP: The Mediator ENNEAGRAM: Type Four: The Individualist TEMPRAMENT: Phlegmatic HOGWARTS HOUSE: Hufflepuff POSITIVE TRAITS:  Polite, earnest, gentle, introverted, willing to learn, adaptable NEGATIVE TRAITS: Lost, reserved, uncertain, unhappy, resentful, questioning

➜ MISC.

ELEMENT: Water ANIMAL: Doe TROPES:

The Heart 

Lovable Nerd

Troubled, but Cute

Offing the Offspring

Dork Knight

Black Sheep

Parental Abandonment