#and that could’ve been millions of lives saved

[bioswear]

Actually i am still mad about Hilary losing and trump winning in 2016, bc… whatever problems you had or chose to believe about Hilary… I don’t think we would’ve gotten to this point in our fascist hellscape if she had been in office….

[what-even-is-thiss]

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[liminalweirdo]

The US could have avoided almost 250,000 Covid-19 deaths if every state had adopted stricter mask and vaccine requirements seen in the Northeast during the height of the pandemic, according to a new study.

Researchers say that the country, which saw more than 1.1 million Covid deaths, could have been spared an estimated 118,000 to 248,000 more lives.

covid is still killing people btw. in 2024

wear a mask

[leaawrites]

Time will pass, but our love won't

Logan Huntzberger x fem!reader

Summary: When Logan asks Y/n the one question that could ruin their future together or make it last forever.

or

A different outcome of Logan asking Rory to marry him.

Warnings: use of Y/n, suggestive content (very little), female reader, family problems (on both ends), mention of marriage

Wordcount: 2k

Masterlist

One day before her Yale graduation. He could’ve chosen the day after, when she had been blackout drunk and was now suffering from the worst hangover known to man kind. It could’ve been while they were half asleep in the middle of the night. But one day before her graduation, when everything seemed to already be too much, she couldn’t say anything but, “I need time.”

Logan was disappointed - no wonder. He knew what he wanted and he was sure that he would get it. He wanted her. Forever and always.

After Rory broke up with him, she was the one by his side. When his father had another one of his bad days and decided to let it out on Logan, she was the one who picked up the phone, knowing what happened and said to him: “Come over.” Before hanging up and setting up the living room for a late night conversation with snacks and alcohol. Whenever he had a stupid idea she would tell him which consequences he could face, though when he decided to do it anyways - so most times - she supported him no matter what. Even when it ended with him in the hospital and her cursing him out for being so stupid, saying that she would never let him leave his apartment again - which was a white lie. She was there for him; always. He wanted that to last until he died.

His father told him it was a bad idea, after he came home drunk once again, slurring his words, slamming his door shut and climbing out the window, fleeing into her arms once again. This night made him think about it more intense then ever before. In her arms he felt save. He was surprised that she still let him in after he disturbed her sleep so many times before, even when she told him it was alright because she wasn’t even asleep in the first place. Always hovering over homework she started too late since she could study better at night, with a coffee sitting next to her and a empty cup already left in the kitchen sink.

Saying that she needed time wasn’t the best answer, it was better than “no” but worse than “yes” even when it was the truth. She needed time, for everything. There had to be a list, covered in little scribbles at the edge of the paper, filled with overthinking and anxiety. Just like now.

Y/n sat on her bed, paper crumbled together, pillow stuffed between her chest and legs as she held on to it tight. tears were welling up in her eyes, which always fled back to the little blue box that held at least a million dollars in it. She hadn’t opened it since he showed it to her. Her chest was cramping together at the memory of it.

They had been on a quiet walk after leaving her parents house, filled with people none of the two knew. They stopped in the middle of the park - or rather he stopped her - and he poured his heart out to her. There had never been a moment before where she felt seen as much as right there, though the ring ruined it. It didn’t specifically ruin the moment, but it did ruin her confidence she built up in the last couple days in order to not seem to nervous when getting her certificate.

It sat there so innocently, watching her. It was almost screaming at her to open it, so she did. Her fingers were shaking as she held it between her fingers, opening it with a hammering heart. As she sat it - closely and with a still mind for the first time - there was something so calming at the thought of having a secure future. With the house and the tree and the papers that she could write for, it seemed simple. and that was what she craved. All her life, the future was always a mystery. She was never certain where she would land in the end, there was no one really securing her in that sense. It had always been all or nothing. And most time, for her at least, it had been nothing. In 8th Grade the B’s seemed to let her know that she had to work even hard for an A. In her home, the books reminded her that nothing would be enough for her to have it all. But Logan offered her everything. He offered her a hand that would take her to that All she craved.

“You look half dead, Y/n,” Rory said, half laughing at her friend and half caring.

Y/n tried to laugh with her, though the only thing leaving her mouth was a yawn, explaining her dark eyes and ever closing eye lids. Though Rory and Logan had somewhat of an relationship, that never stopped them from being close. They never became best friends, and probably never would, but they offered comfort to the other when needed.

“Had a long night,” she said, trying to ignore the raised eyebrows and fleeting glances between Lucy and Olivia.

“A long night together with Lover boy?” Lucy nudged her. As two of Rory’s friends, Lucy and Olivia quickly bonded with her too, they were bitter at the beginning after learning that their friend’s boyfriend went out with another one of their friends after breaking up, though that quickly went away when Rory also moved on, discovering an old spark with Jess. Now, all they did was tease the girl for her boyfriend’s rumored past.

“Not with him,” she defended herself, cutting off the last part of her sentence. There had never been a major conflict between the two that wasn’t solved before midnight, she was unsure how her friends would react when she told them that something happened between the two.

“Oh no, what happened?” Olivia asked, sensing the uncomfortable feeling in her friends voice.

“Nothing major, don’t worry about it,” she waved them off, crossing her arms over her chest. A forced smile covering her tired face.

“Are you sure?” Rory asked, touching her shoulder in comfort. The girl knew better than anyone how Logan can be, so a million possible answer ran through her head right now, though none of them were about what actually happened.

Just as Y/n was about to answer, someone called out for the graduates to make their way over to the event. Y/n was the first one to walk towards the stage, away from the problem. Rory’s eyes followed her, not convinced by her behavior. Lucy and Olivia only shrugged before following their friend who walked faster than ever before - which was almost impossible.

People were buzzing around her, happy families full of smiles as their children finally path their own way or crying because they went away for good now. The sun was hot on her skin under the black robe as she stared at the certificate in her hands. Finally she made it. Finally she was able to flee from her past. It was finally her time. No weekends filled with guilt because everyone else got to go home to their family. No holidays spent alone at a lake house she couldn’t associate with anything but family drama and fights. Now, every weekend, every holiday, was for her to decide how it went.

“They’re not here, are they?” A voice said, making her look up. Logan cast a shadow over her body as she sat against a tree on campus. He looked down at her, holding his hand out to help her up.

“On a business trip,” she said, while pulling herself up. Standing now face to face he saw what everyone else saw for the first time. The broken girl he only got to know behind closed doors. She wasn’t sad about her parent’s absence, it happened before. Now it didn’t face her anymore.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve made them come here for you,” Logan said, hands stuffed in his pockets. An awkward silence settled over the pair that was full of smiles and giggles most times.

“It’s not that important,” she said, smiling at him in an attempt to make it more comfortable. Both knew what caused the tension, now she only had to take the knife and decide what to do with it. “Not as important as something else.”

“I remember when I graduated,” Logan said, trying to make their conversation last a little longer in case it was their last. “I was a little tipsy - that’s a big surprise, huh? - And I did trip, and I reached out and grabbed the robe of Marcia Hadley, who was so not the person to grab.”

“Logan,” Y/n said, making him stop talking. She always had been the one who was rational enough to start a conversation when it was needed, even when it might hurt.

“I love you,” he said, taking her hands in his. “If this is the last time I tell you that, I want you to know that I mean. There is no one I’ve ever loved or cared about as much as I do with you.”

“Logan,” she tried again to stop his rambling, though he wouldn’t shut up.

“I have everything planned out, everything. There is nothing you need to worry about. You want to never work again? It’s alright, I won’t be happy about it, but if you want to, do it. You want to have a Porsche that I can’t even pay? I will work extra.”

“I made a list,” she cut him off. “And I have thought about it a lot, as you can probably see,” she moved her hand towards her face, making both laugh, “and that ‘All or nothing’ motto that you have, I’m unsure about that.”

“Y/n,” Logan sighed, almost pleading for her to stop talking words he didn’t want to hear.

“Let me finish, please,” she said.

“I always do,” he joked, raising his eyebrows.

Y/n ignore his comment, though her checks warmed up a bit. “As I already said, I’ve made a list and I came to a conclusion, because - if I’m being honest - I only had one thing staying on there.” Slowly she lost her hands from his, pulling the little blue box out of her pocket.

“Y/n, don’t do this to me,” he begged, the color leaving his face.

“Ask me again,” she said, putting the box in his direction.

Logan looked up at her in surprised, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and hope. “What?” he asked, hoping he didn’t misunderstand her.

“Ask me again,” she urged him.

“Y/n L/n, do you wanna marry me?” He asked again, opening the box only to find it empty. He looked at it confused, fear threatening on his face as he feared he lost it.

“I will,” she said, left hand lifting up to meet his face. Logan’s face lit up, the heat of the sun finally filling his veins. As he was about to close the gap between his lover and him, she stopped him, hand placed on his cheek to push him back a bit. “Under one condition.”

“What now?” He sounded almost desperate to finally kiss her.

“We’re not gonna marry in the next year, only figuring our new life out with new jobs and a new home. When we have that all figured out, you can finally make me Mrs. Huntzberger officially,” she told him.

His stance fell for a second before he straightened his back again and nod his head. “Alright. One year and not longer.”

“You’re a desperate man, Huntzberger,” Y/n said, smirking as she came closer to his face.

“Only for you, Mrs Huntzberger,” he said, laughing at her. Closing the distance felt like a vow already. They knew that it wasn’t gonna be a long year, not if they spent it together at least.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Predator x a former Weyland-Yutani researcher who does NOT want their children anywhere near a xenomorph at any point in time/is not so hot onnthe whole "hunting the most dangerous game" thing in general.

Monsters Under The Bed

Character: Woftik (male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2077

Summary: On the north end of the planet, the cold weather is brutal. Only the strong survive. One of your children is nearing their chiva. The blooding ceremony where she could die. You didn't want her to go. She's still your baby to you. Still so small like the day she was born. But Woftik is the leader of the tribe. This must be done.

Author Note: This thought process for many of those who have children with Yautjas is probably high. Humans aren't used to such a thing. Sometimes it works in their favor, but others... not so much.

Masterlist

Ao3

“I will not allow our child to be slaughter by those, by those monsters!” you screamed off at the top of your head. Tears streamed down your sticky cheeks. A finger was shoved into Woftik’s chest, not even making the Yautja sway. “It’s one thing for you to go out there and hunt but it’s another to send our child to their deaths!”

Out of all the things he could’ve said today, you weren’t expecting him to state it’s time for your daughter to become a newly blooded. Woftik had been training her since she could walk how to hunt. Hunting normal things for food or necessity. Not going off to fight an eight-legged creature who only comes out at certain times in a year. This thing lives in caves. Caves. Limited space to fight. The beast was around twenty feet tall, scary beyond belief, and – oh, could kill your daughter! How did he not understand this?!

Woftik let you yell at him, let you take your anger out at him. An angry partner was bad. But he knew better from experience not to feed into the energy. After some time, you’ll wear yourself out eventually.

The nonreaction from him only pissed you off more. It gave you the wrong signals. As if, he didn’t care about you or your feelings or your daughter. Your fists trembled at your sides. You were red in the face, hot headed and all. “You don’t care?! You don’t care she could die because it’s part of your culture to send your children to death. But, I will not stand for this.” You put down your foot firmly and jabbed your finger into his chest again.

Only a brow lifted to acknowledge the jab. “Woftik, you will not send Vo to her death. I will not stand for this. I don’t care if its part of your culture.” With your past experience with Weyland-Yutani, you knew some of their culture and history. Dangerous. Death. That’s the foundations that you saw. Kill or be killed in their line of work.

Why in all the years did you decide to free this asshole and allow him to take you away from earth. You will never know what you were thinking back then. Young and stupid. Here comes this big, burly, monster who sweeps you off your feet and saves you after saving him. How idiotic you were. Cause now look at the trouble that’s put you in.

After all the yelling, releasing the pent up anger, the energy left your body. You panted, shoulders heaving while glaring up at the giant off white Yautja in front of you. His stance or features hadn’t even changed once since the start of the argument. You wanted to get angry all over again but saw no point. If he won’t budge, what’s the point to try again?

“Woftik,” you soft call his name. The glare on your face turning into a pleading expression. “Please.”

One of his upper mandibles twitched. “Sweetheart.” Woftik cupped your hot face in his hands and drew you in closer. “This is for her. She has trained since the moment she could stand. She must take this step in her life to continue to live within our tribe. Or else she’ll be forced out.” His thumbs rubbed at both the wet and dry tears stuck to your cheeks. “This is for her own good. Even our own daughter has to face the same challenges as any other Yautja.”

Your heart broke into a million pieces. Tears fell more constantly. You shook your head in his hands, trying to deny his words. “Woftik, please. Don’t do this. Don’t send her out there. She’ll die. She’s… she’s not like you. She’s human too.” As much as you hate to use your species in a demeaning way to yourself, if it helped. So be it.

A hybrid. A surprise you didn’t think was scientifically possible. Two different species, different DNA, different chromosomes. It shouldn’t be logical. But, here was your daughter, Vo-tok. She was living proof.

His mandibles drew up into his mouth. “And that will be her advantage to this. I believe in her skill and my skill. Remember, I taught her everything she knows. Do you trust me?” he asked, softening his voice and drawing your full attention to him.

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow down. Your gaze slipped down to the ground. Anywhere besides his dark brown eyes that could see into your very soul. His hands on your cheeks tilted your head up even more to find the thing you tried to hide from.

“Do you trust me?”  By his god, you did. A lot. It was your human nature to fret about your daughter though. He’s trained. Cleanly. You’ve seen him in action when he had to take down the base he had been locked up in. No human could stand in his path and live. All except yourself. That was because you had saved his life. The code all respected Yautjas follow to a T. He had been forced by said code to take you back with him, despite his want to slaughter you. Except, you had freed him from his bonds and gave him a chance to escape.

Pain was evident in your eyes. “Woftik,” you whined his name. The Yautja tightened his hold, silently demanding an answer from you. A sigh left you, eyes shutting softly with a wince. “You know I do.”

Despite your anger, your rage on the male, there wasn’t a doubt you trusted him. You had to in this line of work. Without him, being in the cold, freezing North Pole, you would’ve perished long ago.

Woftik released a deep rumble that sounded similar to a purr. His face grew close to nuzzle his temple to yours. “Then, trust my training. I’ve taught plenty before. Not all have returned from the hunt. I won’t lie to you. Her chances are greater than any other trainer,” he explained and pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open to find his nearly black eyes looking deep into yours.

“How can you expect from me to do this? I can’t. I can’t just turn a blind eye and let our daughter near such a thing. Why can’t she just hunt something normal? Like those deer-like creatures you bring home every once in a while,” you tried to reason with him one more time. Anything to get him to break. “This is our daughter we’re talking about.”

His eyes hardened for a moment. “And all of my children have gone through similar training either by me or their mother. They’ve endured the hunt. Not all have survived. It’s their final test to become a hunter. Vo-tok is half ooman but that may be an advantage to her.” How could he possibly think such a thing? Compared to his kind, Yautjas are weak, fragile. Plenty of other Yautjas have told you so despite who is your mate and what your position is in their clan.

From the determination in his eyes and voice, there was no way to win this verbal battle with him. As much as you hated it, his word was law. He led his clan with a mighty fist and ensured their survival through the harshest of months. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t take your word or listen to you. He’s often done that. But, this was one thing he won’t budge on.

And that made you feel a hurricane of feelings for him.

You turned your head away, pulling away from his touch. “When does this ‘hunt’ begin?” you asked in a defeated tone, faced tucked to the side.

Woftik sighed and squared his shoulders. “Three days, at dusk. The beast only comes out at night.” Your heart clenched at the thought of your daughter fighting at night. This couldn’t get worse. You flinched and hugged yourself, trying to fight off the new wave of tears again.

Your shoulders were bunched. You forced yourself to take a few steps away from him. “Okay,” you softly said then turned around and walked away from him. Distance was needed. Space and time. You had to go spend time with your daughter. Before everything may change before your eyes.

Worst of all. You had three other children with him. Woftik was sentencing all of them to their deaths. And there’s nothing you could do to stop it. All he expected from you was to trust the training he puts all four of them through. But Woftik is… Woftik. He could handle himself. You’ve seen it personally, up front and personal. But this, this is completely different. Your children. This is your children you were talking about.

The eldest of your children wasn’t even home. She was out, training with another group of young bloods nearing their blooding ceremony. And none of their parents were objecting this. It was part of their culture. A hard pill to swallow for an outsider who wanted to protect your children from the monsters.

The others were in the playroom that branched off of from the common room. You walked through said space to find all of your little ones huddled together, eyes wide. Their whispering stopped immediately at your approach.

Unease had settled in their dark eyes. Your heart broke all the more at the sight. Instantly, you knelt before them, brows furrowed up. “Oh, babies,” you cooed to them in a soft, gentle tone.

None of them were babies anymore. The second oldest, Ma’ril, was thirteen in Yautja years, nearing his own blooding as well. Then, you had Tink-on. She was twelve. Lastly, was Veir. He was nine. The youngest in your family. Yet, all of them knew the basics at least of hunting. Each progressing in different weapons that suited them best. Woftik ensuring to hit every style to find what fits them. He was so careful about their training. That at first, you weren’t fretting about their upcoming hunts. Until the day comes.

It was closing in fast.

“You heard us yelling, didn’t you?” you asked, disappointed in yourself. This is one of your worst fears.

Veir nodded his head silently and looked at you from underneath his brows. You flinched as if he had struck you. It was one thing to shout at your partner but another to have your children hear it.

“Oh, babies, I’m so sorry. We were disagreeing on something. I’m… I’m just scared for your older sister. I can’t help it. It’s part of being human.” Something they were burdened with. The emotions of a human and the talents and skills of a Yautja. Two ideas that don’t mix well. “But, we came to an agreement. There’s nothing to worry about now.”

They all looked at each other before returning their eyes to you. Timidly, you opened your arms and waited with bated breath. One after another, Ma’ril, Veir, and Tink-on piled in on each other. All of them snugging you into a hug.

“You know I love you with all of my heart, right?” A question you couldn’t but ask in the aftermath. Each one nodded and voiced that they knew. “Good. Good. I’m very glad. I love you guys so much. You’re my world.”

And they were. They were your lifeline. Woftik was part of that as well. Pieces to the puzzle that made up your life. A life you didn’t want to see break up if a piece goes missing. You had to hold back the tears desperate to fall. The idea hurting more than you thought.

You felt the eyes before hearing the soft steps of Woftik. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the hulking, white giant stalk into the room quiet as ever. He moved with ease and lowered himself to his knees at your side. Your gave him a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. The pain was too fresh in your heart to forgive him just yet.

“They heard us,” you explained in soft voice that only he could hear. The off-white Yautja hummed and scooted closer, showering the four of you with his warmth. His muscular arms came around and encircled all of you. You leaned into him, taking the embrace to quell the pounding of your heart.

Nothing needed to be said about your family. Mismatched, imperfect as it was, you loved it more than anything.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

This is the last time I’m gonna talk about this topic, mostly because it’s hiatus era and I would like to be able to write fics without outrightly bashing s2 Alicent, but I do think it needs to be said.

There’s nothing defendable in what Alicent did when she gave up her entire family on a silver platter for Rhaenyra.

So many takes about how we—the ones who found that scene abominable and abhorrent—misread the scene, or purposefully misinterpreted just to hate her; that what Alicent did was a good thing because it would have spared her entire family if only she let Aegon die. Giving up Criston and Gwayne’s location to be slaughtered (in what is most likely going to be Butcher’s Ball) wasn’t the intention; Alicent would never do that to her family and this was the only way to ensure survival en yada yada yada.

Yet the only person she said anything about saving was Helaena and Jaehaera, the latter of which is still continued to be dehumanized by no one referring to her as anything but ‘child’. Alicent put no thought towards Daeron—her innocent 16 year old son, who has done nothing—who was now joining a war that she started by declaring his brother king. Daeron, who’s flying alongside the Hightower army, in a war that will not end just because the Dowager Queen decided enough was enough. Who might die, and actually will die, before he ever sees his family again.

And even if she believes Rhaenyra executing Aegon would end the war (which it won’t), what made s2 Alicent think that the deaths would stop there?

A son for a son? Rhaenyra didn’t even remember that Jaehaerys had already been murdered for Luke. What made Alicent think that Rhaenyra would spare fucking Aemond of all people??? Aemond, who killed Luke and Rhaenys, who’s now Prince Regent because Aegon’s heir is dead? Who rides Vhagar, and would rather burn the world down than cleave to Rhaenyra? Who’s committed the majority of the crimes that make up Team Green? No, Aemond will have to die.

Daeron will have to die.

Jaehaerys, had he lived, would have to die anyway.

Maelor if he existed too.

Otto, Criston, Gwayne—all dead by virtue of being active participants and commanders in TG.

The only way Rhaenyra can claim that throne and ensure she can hold it is by eliminating the rival claimants, down to the youngest son.

That was something s1 Alicent knew, had raised her son on the belief they would die if their sister ascended, before the writers butchered her to a million pieces and left a caricature in her place. The claims go down son to son before it reaches daughters, which meant killing Aegon wouldn’t stop Rhaenyra’s troubles. She’d have to go after his sons and brothers too before the throne is legally hers.

There is no version of this story, where war has already started and a king crowned, that would end with little bloodshed beyond the death of said king.

In a different world, an argument could be made to spare some of them. If Rhaenyra had ascended untouched, then perhaps deals could’ve been made. Aegon would still have to die, I’d imagine. Take the Black at minimum, with Jaehaerys following in his footsteps as an adult or perhaps the Citadel. As long as Aegon’s line persisted, there would always be a chance of rebellion happening once Jace becomes king. So that whole line would have to be removed.

Aemond and Daeron would be less dangerous, but there would be little chance they’d be spared. The Black for Aemond, because I can’t see him agreeing to be a Kingsguard. Daeron would go to the Citadel without question. Jaehaera would either be married into the main line via Aegon III like in canon, or Rhaenyra would arrange for her to marry Jace to solidify his claim. He’d have a better claim through Jaehaera than Baela, after all.

And even then, that was still best case scenario. Worst case they’re all executed to protect Jace. Because Rhaenyra’s reign might somehow be mediocre and peaceful (really she has no makings of a great queen), but Jace’s will be a landmine. Between two legitimate brothers and no sisters to marry them to and trueborn cousins and uncles, Jace’s ascension was going to be a massive clusterfuck that would make the Dance look like a play.

[abbyslovergirlxo]

-Bad Idea-

ELLIE WILLIAMS x FEM!READER

What happens when your drunk ex sends you flowers? Who knows. But regardless, anyone would agree it’s a pretty bad idea.

tw; moping, terrible drunk decisions, slight smut (if you squint), cursing

—————————————————————————

“shit shit shit— oh my fucking— shit!”

Ellie had tried to wipe her eyes in a desperate repetition. But when her bank statements kept reading;

TRANSACTIONS

3/7/2023 Saturday: — 62.75 FROM; Flowers and Friends

It was hard to not accept the facts. Ellie could typically hold her liquor, but as of late she wasn’t herself. You and Ellie had been broken up for two months and she had deluded herself into thinking it left her mind. But whenever a touch of liquor or weed hit her system, suddenly she was missing you so bad that she couldn’t help herself from getting out of hand. Case in point being, her spending over 60 dollars while trashed to send to your doorstep.

She called the company a multitude off times, always receiving the same frustrating answer.

“Sorry ma’am, cancellations are not prohibited after the 12 hour order mark.”

Ellie cursed herself for over sleeping with a pounding hangover. Maybe if she woke up a couple hours earlier she could’ve saved herself eternal embarrassment. At least that was until she remembered that the only way you’d know if it was her if there was a note. She was cross faded out of her mind, no way she wrote anything that wasn’t gibberish, if she wrote anything at all.

“Wait! Was there a note attached or anything?”

“One second ma’am— let me just look right here… right, okay. Yes there’s a note attached.”

Ellie cursed silently into the air. She took a deep breath and looked up to the sky in a phantom type of prayer.

“Could you tell me what it says?”

“Absolutely. It says ‘Miss you so much baby. I can’t stop thinking about you and your nose. Your nose is so fucking pretty. And your hair. And just you. You’re so pretty. Please talk to me. Please please just talk to me. These flowers reminded me of you. They’re so pretty. I miss being inside of you. I miss us so mu—‘. Um…yeah. That’s pretty much it. It seems like you ran out of room to type.”

She was going to die. She was truly going to die. Ellie was grateful with how calm the customer service worker was. This probably was no doubt her most indecent moment and she couldn’t handle it if the lady on the phone was laughing at her.

Ellie gripped her phone till her knuckles turned a hued white, she was so fucking angry at herself. She was the one who broke up with you and her she was, going crazy.

“Do you have an estimation of when the flowers will arrive?”

“…Says around 2 pm.”

She didn’t even bother with a thank you as she ended the phone call. It was 1:45. You lived 20 minutes away. It would be close but it’d be better than doing nothing.

She swiped her eyes off her nightstand and was in her car before she could even blink.

After an almost car accident, two people flipping her off, and cutting people off, Ellie had finally made it to your apartment. She stomped her way up the steps that led to the second floor. Her lungs were practically screaming at her but she was so close.

2:03 pm.

Her breath got caught as she saw that familiar door mat. She had wiped her black converses on it a million times, a sort of tradition wether or not her shoes needed it. Made her feel like she was at home, her way of marking her territory. That bright yellow doormat with the corny quote that Ellie had clowned you for too many times.

“ Bee My Guest! 🐝 “

She had gotten so lost at just the sight of your front door that she hadn’t noticed the bouquet of flowers next to it. Quite a large one as well. If she hadn’t been a nervous wreck, she would’ve admired her taste. The flowers were gorgeous and she wanted nothing more than to give them to you. But she knew it wouldn’t be right and it’d be wrong. It had been months, why do something like this now?

With a sudden slowness she walked over to your front door, picking up the flowers and frowning. She had wished this were under different circumstances. That this was her on a random weekday, turning up to see you. Surprising you with flowers and soft kiss.

But that wasn’t the case. And she had gotten carried away at the idea of you. With a shake of her head, she checked the time.

2:14

Eleven minutes of admiring you literal door. Yeah, it was time to go.

“Ellie?”

Her head whipped up that sound. That sound she had been yearning to hear for literal months. She had spent many night looking over videos of you, hearing the way you spoke. It never beat the real thing, clearly.

She didn’t move, just staring at you with your pink tote bag and white sundress. She didn’t miss the way your bra was doing wonders for your chest. Fuck, was she looking?

“Um…”

You raised your brow, observing the sight infront of you. Your ex-girlfriend with a black graphic tee, green boy shorts and her favorite converses. Her hair had gotten longer but nonetheless still pulled into that familiar bun. She looked…good. You could tell she was hungover, you had been with her for too long to not know. But still she looked good, she always did.

But seeing your ex at your front door wasn’t the strangest thing, it was her holding a bouquet of flowers. This wasn’t what you expected to come home to after buying a book from your local Barnes and Nobles.

You should be pissed, sad or annoyed. But you were none of those. You wanted to be. But you had missed her. All you could feel was that familiar need for her and a touch of confusion.

“Did someone die?”

“Yes.”

Not her best lie, and after seeing your look of concern she couldn’t handle it.

“Sorry, no. Nobody died. I just— I didn’t mean to come here.”

“Oh…okay. Be safe on the way back?”

You shuffled towards your front door, brushing past her. This was so awkward and you felt ridiculous for actually thinking she came here for you. It was obvious she did, who shows up at their exes apartment complex with flowers? But clearly she didn’t want you enough to admit it. And that hurt more than you wanted it to.

With a silent curse you finally managed to get your key out of your bag. You appreciated it for all the space but it felt like you were digging through a damn vast hole whenever you needed something.

Before you could even open your door, you felt a hand on your shoulder making you look back.

“I missed you. Well I mean that I— I miss you. Now. I’ve missed you for a while. I hope that’s okay. I wish…we were okay.”

She was nervous. You tell by the way she bit down on her lip and her thumb fiddled with her ring. You were too. And you looked down at her hand, feeling sheepish about how warm it was on your skin.

It took no time for her to notice before she yanked it back. You frowned a little.

“Ellie why’d you come here? And with… flowers?”

She sighed a little, contemplating wether or not to save her dignity and leave. Pretend she never proclaimed her persistence of missing you and block you, or she could just be a human and talk to you. She had showed up like this unannounced and the least you deserved was an explanation. She didn’t want you to always wonder what could’ve happened.

“Can I come in?”

……………………….……………………….………………

“Didn’t we talk about getting cross faded? Mixing drugs and alcohol is not good for you Ellie.”

“That’s what you got from all of that…”

“Well that, and the fact you only miss me when you’re not sober.”

“That’s not— I always miss you. I just don’t know how to control it when I’m not sober. Exactly why I ordered these flowers last night.”

You grinned a little, finding it all a little funny. When she first came into your apartment that reeked of brown sugar and vanilla, it was as awkward as one would expect.

But you and her had been together for 3 years before you broke up. As her story strung out and you gave a her a cup of peppermint tea, the tension slowly evaporated.

“Right…and you did all of this just to still get caught with the flowers. Honestly Els, it would’ve been less embarrassing if I had just seen them on my doorstep.”

Ellie shifted on your white couch at the sound of the nickname. She hadn’t heard it in forever and it made her want you even more. She wasn’t even sure where this conversation was headed but she knew she didn’t want it to end.

“The note though. Would’ve given me away in a heartbeat, and I’d probably never show my face again.”

She let out a laugh at the thought. You furrowed your brows and put down your minions mug to stare at her.

“What note?”

You caught she sudden panic in her face. Ellie had purposefully left out the embarrassing note she had left on the flowers and didn’t plan on saying anything about them. The flowers now sat on your glass coffee table right next to the pink coasters.

“Note? Shit I’m probably just mixing things up. This teas like really good, you got anymore?”

You looked at Ellies nervous smile and then at the flowers. She looked at you and then back the flowers. Then you both locked eyes again. Her eyes squinted into a silent plea of ‘don’t do it.’

As if she knew you’d still do it she reached towards the flowers at the same time you did but to her horror you plucked the note card before she could stop you. You ran towards your kitchen, getting behind the island while scrambling to rip the paper out of the envelope.

Ellie didn’t hesitate to run offer you but she couldn’t quite get you with you way you kept leaping around the kitchen island just far away enough so she could grab you.

“Okay okay y/n. Let’s just talk about this? The note is just gibberish. I was drunk out of my mind and it’s just random stuff jumbled on there. It’s just so stupid. Please just—“

She reached her arm out to grab you which you dodged and moved in the opposite direction against the marble island corner.

“Give it to me. Please.”

“You’re rambling, you’re nervous.”

“Okay Sherlock, just hand me the note.”

With a quick, “nope” , you looked at the flower embroidered card and began to read out-loud.

“Miss you so much baby. I can’t stop thinking about you and your nose— really Ellie? My nose?”

She groaned as you managed to dodge her again.

“To be fair, it’s a very nice nose.”

“Uh huh… ‘And your hair. And just you. You’re so pretty. Please talk to me. Please please just talk to me. These flowers reminded me—“

“Wait! If you put the card down I’ll give you a weeks worth of weed. You know I have the best dealer and I promise you if you just give me the card I’ll swing by later and give you some. Please y/n I am literally begg—“

“Hush. I already buy from your dealer, I stole their number from your phone after that one time you smoked me out in Jersey.”

“Wait what the fuck?”

“These flowers reminded me of you. They’re so pretty. I miss being inside of you. I miss us so much?”

Ellie’s head was thrown down in a storm of shame. This was much more embarrassing than hearing the lady on the phone say it. Not to mention the way you impersonated Ellie’s voice while you said it. She was feeling like a little bitch and she even felt slightly betrayed. When the fuck was Mick going to tell her that he was selling you weed? She made a mental note to murder him and another mental note to never see you again.

“Fuck this is so embarrassing.”

After your laughter died down, you looked over the words again. Letting it all sink in. It was funny, you couldn’t lie about that.

But it was also a bit sad. You missed moments like these, with you and Ellie joking around. You missed her making you laugh and grabbing your waist from behind while you cooking in that very kitchen. The way she used to beg you to make that peppermint tea whenever she got off of work.

And she did say she had missed you, but was that enough? What even was this? Were you guys going to become friends? Get some closure and never see each other again? Or was there something more? Was it going to be Ellie and Y/n again? Or was it just you hoping that it’d be more?

The questions racked your brain. And your mood dropped quicker than you’d liked. Ellie now looked up at you after noticing your laughter swelter.

“Shit babe are y—fuck sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, it’s just…I don’t know.”

“Ellie…what do you want out of this?”

“I—“

“You broke up with me. I thought that you didn’t want me anymore. Do you even want me anymore?”

“I want you so much I can’t even fathom it.”

“What do you want out of this?” You repeated your question.

“I don’t know… what do you want?”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t leave it up to me Ellie. That’s not fair.”

She shook her head as she moved near you, this time you didn’t move back. Allowing her to pull at your dress.

“I’m not trying to be unfair y/n. I just don’t want to say the wrong thing. I want whatever you want.”

“You broke up with me…”

“I know…I’m so sorry.”

You pushed her hand away from your dress gently. She was too close and it was making your mind jumbled.

“Look Ellie. I’ve missed you to. Too much. And I don’t want you to say something and not mean it. I don’t want you to feel cornered into caring about me.”

“I could never stop caring about you. I never stopped y/n.”

You stayed silent, getting suddenly scared at how real this all was. No matter which way this went it would be a drastic change. If she left and never saw you again you’d have to deal with a second heartbreak. If she wanted to be friends you knew you’d say yes and have to see her too much for your own comfort.

And if she wanted to get back together…well that was a monster all on its own.

“What do you want out of this Ellie?”

From your tone of voice, and it being the third time you said it, Ellie knew she had to give a definitive answer now. You deserved that. She didn’t deserve you, but she wanted to.

“I want you. I want us. I’ll be so good to you, I promise.”

You looked at her with pouty face. This was all you wanted to hear for the past couple of months and you finally got it. You didn’t want to get hurt again.

She met your eyes and tried to communicate with just those.

You remained silent. To which, she gripped the waist area of your dress fabric to bring you closer. She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you into a hug making you sigh into her neck.

She rubbed palmed circles onto your back.

“You want us back together?”

You nodded into her cologned skin.

“Yeah?”

You whispered out a soft, “Yes Els. I want us.”

She grinned into your hair, this was the first time one of her bad ideas turned into something good. But as she smelled that familiar coconut shampoo in your hair, she knew it wasn’t a good idea. It was fucking amazing idea.

She kissed your forehead.

“I really meant it when I wrote that I miss being inside of you.”

You whined a little, “Show me, Els.”

[josephquinnswhore]

Hi

What about a fic where the reader and Pedro are working to together and one of them has an accident while doing a stunt

And that they were dating in secret and they go into panic mode when it happens

Bunch of fluff and angst

Accidents Happen - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: you insisted on doing your own stunts for the Kingsman movie, you get badly hurt.

Word Count: 2.2k

Content Warning: doing stunts, weapons, knives, whips, head injury, mentions of blood.

Note: they’ll be on the set of “kingsman” cause I feel like agent whiskey does a lot of stunts lol (let’s pretend Pedro can use the lasso ;) Also love this idea thanks for requesting!!

Secretly dating Pedro Pascal wasn’t something that was easy to hide, he was the heartthrob of the internet and he was a very open book. His people pleasing tendencies had him opening up to everyone just to make them comfortable in his presence. It was fairly new, you’d only been together for just over 12 months, your first anniversary was spent at home over dinner and wine; watching your favourite movies, most of them being Disney or Nick Cage movies, cause let’s face it, he was a phenomenal actor.

Being an actor and working with your secret boyfriend was even harder. You were having to put up two acts, one in being your character Agent Brandy, working alongside other well known actors as a team of secret agents, playing the good guys, you’d read your script and to your surprise, Pedro’s character “Jack Whiskey” kills your character after she finds out that Jack was going to destroy the cure, there were a few stunts that production had warned and offered you may need a stunt double for. But you refused; you had done some stunts in other movies before, you knew you could handle a whip and lasso.

You and Pedro were in position, both in costume and in a room full of camera men and producers ready to watch you play the scene out, the scene in which had all the stunts.

“3,2,1, ACTION.”

You stare at Agent Whisky, brows furrowed and huffing, your hand lingering above your knife ready to fight after you learned of jacks betrayal. “How could you, Jack? Lives are at stake here, the world is at stake. It’s not too late for you to redeem yourself, just hand me the cure and we can work this out.”

He scoffs, accent heavy in his mock fury, “over my dead body, Brandy,” you grunt, “so be it.” Your hand is quick to reach for your knife, pressing the button as to extend the blade. He moves swiftly, quicker than you could react, the lasso in his hands within seconds, spinning it and catching your arms around your torso, the rope pulling tight making you drop the prop, pulling your legs together and you fall onto the mat on the floor. He leans over you, “should’ve minded your damn business, we could’ve been somethin special sugar.” He winks before picking up your knife and jams it into the floor next to you, you’re gasping and heaving as he walks out of the building.

“Cut! That was incredible, I want to reshoot the lasso scene, perhaps we can get Brandy tied up a little quicker, just to get more action into the scene.”

You’re untied from the lasso, Pedro offers you a hand in his costume, smile on his lips as you stand, wishing the warmth of his hands didn’t have to leave yours. You stand about 8 feet from him, in your defensive position, hand above knife ready for the scene to begin.

“Ready in, 3, 2, 1, ACTION.”

“How could you do this to us Jack, the world is at stake, millions of lives are at stake here.” You lower your hand away from the knife, going a little off script to make a more emotional scene, “please, just give me the vile and you can come back from this, we can get away from all of this agent nonsense.” You hold your hand out to him, a soft look in your eyes as you waited for him to surrender the cure that would save millions of lives. He scoffs, pulling his lasso out of his back pocket quickly, emotion quickly turned resentful, he swung the lasso quickly and your arms were bound by your torso. “Please jack, don’t do this.” He pulls the lasso tighter, encouraging you to shut up. “It’s a real shame you didn’t join me sugar, could’ve changed the world, you an me.” With a swift yank of his arm you fell, your body spinning off course from the mat you were meant to land on and your head hits the corner of a chair seat.

“Fuck!” You wail in agony, unable to hold the sore spot on your head.

“CUT. Get medical in here now, we’ve got a head injury.”

You feel lightheaded, your own cries of anguish are drowned out by the dozens of voices crowding you, unwrapping the lasso from your torso. Pedro kneels over you, his hands on either side of your face, his eyes full of tears with a fearful look on his face. “Fuck what have I done.” He brushes his hands over your head to get the hair out of your face, when he feels-something. He pulls his hand back to see it’s coated in slick warm blood, your blood. “She’s bleeding, her heads bleeding!” Pedro exclaims desperately, a man from the film crew tosses him a shirt, Pedro holds it to your head and sees how fast the white shirt is staining red. He can’t stop the tears from falling at how unresponsive you are.

“Move out of the way the paramedics are here!” Your producer exclaims. Pedro is hesitating to move, his body frozen in shock at what he’s done to you. The paramedics put a neck brace on you before picking you up onto the stretcher and wheeling you out to the ambulance.

“Pedro, for all our sakes and your own, go with her.”

He doesn’t waste another second following you, explaining to the paramedics, “she’s my fiancé.” He lies, they’re not, but he’s thinking he should after this, after this feeling of dread that he’s going to lose you, he’s never been so afraid in his life.

The wailing of the ambulance siren is drowned out by him being stuck in his head, guilt and self blame for changing the way he was meant to do the stunt on the script. How would you ever forgive him? He held your hand as it rests on your chest, the monitor connected to your finger reads a low, but steady heartbeat and low blood pressure.

He refused to leave the hospital, he sat on an old dinky green chair, the stuffing had started to fall out because the stitching was ripped. No matter how badly his joints ached he refused to move, the nurses bringing him water every so often as he’s dehydrating himself from having cried for hours on end. You were in surgery, they said that your head has actually split open, they weren’t sure how long it would take to operate or how long it would take for you to wake up, but he was feeling the guilt full force.

A doctor comes up to the nurse at reception and she gives Pedro a look. “Okay, thank you. I’ll pass it on.” She thanks the doctor quietly before standing from her desk and walking over to Pedro. “Let’s go for a walk, shall we?” He nods solemnly and stands, his legs wobbling from sitting for so long. His boots squeak on the hospital floors, he gets weird looks from other patients and nurses they pass as he’s still in costume.

“She’s stable, she had to have 50 stitches, she’ll be okay eventually but, it’s possible she may have short term memory loss, she may not-we just thought you should be aware of that possibility.”

Pedro frowns, “memory loss?” The nurse nods sympathetically, “it’s possible.” They come to a stop after what feels like an eternity. He stops outside of a room, the letters 31B on the door in bold letters. The nurse opens the door and Pedro’s heart stops beating in his chest when he sees you.

You’re connected to a few monitors, a drip is inserted into your arm. Your eyes are sunken and your skin is pale. Black half circles are dark underneath your eyes, you look so fragile, so unwell. “She lost a lot of blood. She’s due for another blood transfusion within the next two hours. You may take a seat if you’d like, I’ll bring you something from the canteen.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, sitting down in the leather chair that was slightly more comfortable than the one in the waiting room. His eyes feel heavy as they droop, exhaustion overcoming him from todays events.

Your head throbs as you come into consciousness. Your eyes blink hard in an attempt to open them. When they open your eyes are squinted, the bright lights pulling a groan from you, wishing the lights were turned off. You look around the room, head still attached to the pillow as your head feels to heavy to lift.

You see Pedro sitting in the chair next to the bed, his face is red and puffy, he has huge bags under his eyes and your heart physically aches while you’re remembering what happened to you. The monitor beside you beeps loudly and constantly, your heart rate becoming abnormally high for its usual base rate. The beeping wakes Pedro up, he shuffles in his sleep before prying his eyes open, looking at you starting right at him which startled him.

“Hey.” His voice was hoarse, vulnerable. “Hi.” You whisper, your throat in desperate need of water to rid your cotton mouth.

The nurse comes walking in, seeing your heart rate, “it’s totally normal waking up from surgery, so don’t panic. We’ll get some more pain meds sent in straight away, how are you feeling?” Your eyes are half shut, looking at the woman in scrubs as you groan, “sore.” She puts your clipboard back onto the end of your bed, moving to your right side to check your temperature. “36.2. Temps good. What’s the last thing you remember?” You frown, not wanting to remember the pain and guilt Pedro had been through at the sake of your pain.

“I remember doing a stunt with Pedro, I think I fell and hit my head and waking up here.”

Pedro shakes his head, knowing that’s not the whole truth. The nurse nods, “okay, get some more rest if you can. I’ll get those pain meds back to you as soon as we can.”

The silence in the room was defeating, the noise ringing in your ears as you internally begged him to speak. He didn’t, so you did.

“I know I didn’t fall, it’s not your fault Pedro, we both messed up.” You turn your head to look at him and he’s still in his costume which makes you smile. “I thought I lost you. They said you might wake up with amnesia and you’d forget me.”

You reach out to him, holding his hand and weakly caressing his knuckles. “How could I ever forget you baby?” He finally looks at you, brown orbs watering at your kindness. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” “You did everything right to deserve me.”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Pedro questions, his finger hovering above the play button as it’s paused right before your and his scene, when it happened.

It’s been a couple of months since your incident, unfortunately due to the severity of your head injury you were unable to continue filming, your producers were kind enough to pay you for the entirety of the film. You had given them permission to use the last take they filmed, they said the chemistry and emotion the two of you had brought to the movie was something they wanted to keep, and the lasso scene they had edited to make it look like a full on action movie. Of course during this whole incident, people had found out that you and Pedro were dating. Some weirdo in the hospital snapped pictures of the two of you kissing, you addressed it and admitted that you’d been together for a while now. Thankfully the fans have been nothing but supportive, but they’ve been asking if you’ve seen the new movie, saying you did a phenomenal job, praising you and Pedro for your work. You decided it was finally time to watch it.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You exhale a shaky breath, Pedro presses the play button and he holds you close to him. His arms drawing circles down your arms to keep you grounded while you both watch the familiar scene unfold before you. “They have great chemistry don’t you think?” Pedro laughs, “yeah they sure do. Maybe they should just get married or something.”

The vulnerability of the scene nearly had you in tears, the music and editing was incredible. You tense as you brace yourself for the scene. You can’t will yourself to even blink let alone look away while it happens. You look to Pedro and sigh, “I’m okay, it’s just.. intense to relive all of that.” He kisses your temple, “I know baby, you’re so strong and I’m so proud of you.” You turn to him, “I’m proud of you too, you know.” He raises an eyebrow at you, “proud of me for what?” You snuggle into him, the warmth spreading between you like a house fire. “For not blaming yourself and for being there for me.”

“Always gonna be here for you baby.” You turn your attention back to the next scene where you were replaced with a stunt double who did the remainder of your scenes, so they decided not to kill your character off.

“Hey she’s pretty hot.” You jest. Pedro shrugs at the unfamiliar body with your face that’s been edited to it, “she doesn’t have an ass like you though.” He gives your ass a quick squeeze and you squeal. “You’re so lucky I love you,” his lips meet yours in a soft kiss, “I know honey, I am lucky.”

[usmsgutterson]

Haunted- K.B x Fem! Sun Summoner! Reader

Okay, this was requested by @freddycarterswife​, and the only reason I’m making a separate post is because I didn’t want the post with her notes and mine to get too long and clog up anyones dash, so this was my solution! 

I have two more requests in my inbox and then my requests will be open again and I have a big plan coming up for my two year anniversary on this account (which is being combined with my 600 follower celebration because why not) so a lot is going to come out during the second half of this week! I’m looking forward to it and I can’t wait to start accepting requests again

Fic type- angst with a fluffy ending

Warnings- mentions of death, torsos and legs separating with the use of the cut, mentions of guns, mentions of cremation ashes

You’d fled Ravka in the last days before the war began, vowing never to let anyone know of your status as one of the only two sun summoners who existed in the world at that time. 

You fled to Ketterdam stashed on a cargo ship, having expected to find decent lodgings near Fifth Harbor and continue as you had, alone in your endeavors and without fear. 

You had enough money to get through your first week, and you found yourself in the Barrel. You saved Kaz from being jumped and got yourself a room in the Slat free of charge and a job working at the bar in the Crow Club on weekdays. 

Kaz must’ve noticed it right off the bat, the way with which you carried yourself and the way that you seemed just to exist. It didn’t feel like you were a girl who was down on her luck but rather a girl with a past full of secrets. 

But you worked at the Crow Club, you lived in the Slat, and you’d joined the Dregs nearly right off the bat. The money you’d brought with you for your first week dwindled quickly, but the money you made from the jobs that Kaz put you on the crew of made up for it twentyfold, at least. The money was good, the people great, and eventually, your life in Ketterdam was one you settled into; it grew into a secondary home, of sorts. 

You summoned the sun on a semi frequent basis to keep yourself from growing sick in the absence of your small science, oftentimes using it to bring light when your oil lamps had died and you were still reading, occasionally using it to bring you warmth when it grew cold in the Slat during the winter. 

By the time you’d lived in Ketterdam four years, Kaz came to you with the biggest heist yet. It was in Ravka, the theft of several important jewels and a few apparently priceless enameled eggs with promise of good money from Nikolai Lantsov and his wife, Zoya Nazyalensky. 

Nikolai had told Kaz to name his price and Kaz had promptly told him that his price was a minimum of forty million kruge. With those words, the deal was sealed and he’d come to you, asking if you were in or out.

You’d told him you were in, and that got you where you were, standing in a dusty hotel room near the location of the items that you were to steal and return to the palaces. 

Nina and Matthias were grabbing food at the small restaurant located inside the hotel, Wylan and Jesper grabbing ice and coffee grounds from the machines at one end of the hallway, and Inej was scouting, seeking any last minute details that could’ve been helpful when the heist was to go down within the following two hours.

“Be careful,” Kaz said, eyes watching the sun as it began to set. You’d been watching it, too. Four years since you’d last seen a Ravkan sunset. As it turned out, you’d missed them more than you thought. “This entire heist is a risk, Y/N. Try not to get yourself killed.”

A grin came easily to your face as you resisted the urge to summon an arc of sunlight, bright and blazing into the room. 

You almost wondered what would happen if you did. Kaz had long grown used to the two of you having your own secrets, and would he really care? Would he even blink at the fact that you could summon the sun, especially when one considered that Alina Starkov had died and at least ten sun summoners had been left in her wake? Would he really care about it other than connotating that, had you told him, it could’ve been a useful tool on a few of the jobs you did? 

“You too, Brekker,” you said. “Don’t die on me, Kaz. I’d hate to plan a funeral for you.”

He turned to you, and you caught a smirk on his face. “Well, I do at least expect a headstone. My enemies need something to spit on when they’ve heard of my death.”

“Nah,” you said. “No headstone for you or your enemies. I’ll cremate you, turn some of your ashes into a necklace and put the rest into a remake of your cane, provided I find a Fabrikator who can even passably replicate it.” 

“If you die, I’ll put your ashes into the water at Fifth Harbor,” he said.

“No, you won’t,” you rebutted. “You’ll put them into soil, and use that soil to plant a garden. I’ve got a will, Brekker. You will abide by it.” 

Kaz scoffed. “What, living in the Barrel make you so unoptimistic that you felt the need for a will?” 

“Living in Ravka did,” you said. “Not really a good place to live when the Unsea was expanding and a war was almost guaranteed. I left the day before the Darkling expanded it, haven’t been back around until now.” 

Kaz only nodded. It was another piece of your history that he didn’t know, another tidbit given to him, another tidbit that meant he would likely give you something in return. 

At that, the both of you heard Wylan and Jesper as they opened the door.

“Just don’t get killed,” Kaz said. “I am not the man who will put your ashes into soil or plant them into a garden, so keep your head, at the very least.” 

You shook your head, grin moving onto your face slightly. That was as much as Kaz telling you he loved you, and you’d find a way to tell him you loved him in return, be it that night or in due time. 

-

You were panicking. 

The jewelry had been procured, the enamel eggs in all their horrific, ugly glory were in the bags that you’d hauled over your shoulders. The guards had located you, though, and as fast as the seven of you were capable of moving, it seemed the guards were faster. 

You turned just in time to see two guards aiming their pistols at Kaz and Jesper. As though it were instinct, you raised your hands, summoned all of your power to the forefront of your mind. 

You were on autopilot, almost, as you summoned a blazing beam of light, held it in your hands, wielded it as a weapon of your own. 

And then, you released it. 

You watched in terror as your light sliced the guards in two from their torsos, hallowed screams leaving their lips as their knees toppled and their guns fell from their loose, dead hands. 

Everything stopped. Jesper, Nina, Inej, Kaz, Wylan and Matthias turned around, having stopped in their tracks. All of them looked to you instantly. Your throat dried and you hated yourself for the fact that you found you had no words. 

“You’re a--” Nina began, but Kaz cut her off.

“You can summon the sun, and you never told anybody,” he said.

You didn’t speak, only crumbled to the ground. You weren’t supposed to do that, and some part of you regretted it. But the other acknowledged that you’d done what was necessary to keep Kaz and Jesper alive. 

“Whatever,” Kaz said, deeming it unnecessary to carry what was almost a fight into a fight, be it with words or balled fists. “We’re leaving. This is done.” 

“Don’t leave me like this,” you said, finding the words at the least opportune time. “Please, don’t.” 

“May you find someone else to churn your ashes in the soil and make a garden out of them,” he said. “Because it won’t be me.” 

You surrendered the bags you’d carried to Nina, who looked at you pitifully, and watched the crows go. 

You left after what was probably fifteen minutes but felt like a thousand days, finding yourself in an alleyway, back pressed against the wall. Your ability to summon was always where things went wrong in life. 

It’d nearly gotten you killed when you refused to be the Darklings puppet. It’d nearly gotten you killed when Alina had come around and he realized he didn’t need to hold out hope that you’d come around anymore. Refraining from using it in longer pockets of time had nearly killed you, too. 

In the end, your ability to summon the sun had been what caused you to lose everything.

You felt the tears fall, and you let them. You’d be haunted by them, the friends you’d once had, for a lifetime, and that was the precise reason you couldn’t go back to Ketterdam. 

On the other hand, what choice was there? Would you go to the Grand Palace, plead your case and pray to the saints that Nikolai would allow you a room to stay in? 

Would you smuggle yourself onto a cargo ship just as you’d done four years before? Would you live a life somewhere new, perhaps Novyi Zem, where Grisha were considered to be blessed? 

You had no idea, but you knew that you would be haunted by Kaz Brekker, his crew, and Ketterdam for the rest of your life. There was no going back, not after that. 

It was just a matter of where, exactly, you would go.

-

You found yourself on Ketterdam soil six months later, the city chilly and the leaves changing as was typical with October weather. You found Jespers gaze in the same time he found yours, a grin easily coming to his face. He’d missed you, so it seemed. 

“Glad you got my letter,” he said as you stepped onto the dock. “I’d been going off rumor, mostly tidbits and things that Inej heard of you. Mercenary, hm?” 

You shrugged. “Needed something to do after that night. Figured that being a killer for hire was my best bet, and mercenaries make a shit ton wherever you end up. How’d you know I was in Novyi Zem, exactly? I’m good at keeping my locations under wraps so thick that even Inej shouldn’t’ve figured it out.” 

Jesper shrugged, shook his head. “You didn’t when you moved on from the Wandering Isle to Novyi Zem. Maybe you subconsciously wanted to be found? Maybe you missed me, or a certain Barrel boss who dresses like he’s a businessman?” 

You laughed. “I’ve missed you and the rest of the Dregs, certainly, but Kaz? No. I haven’t thought of him since he left me after I’d saved his bloody life.” A lie, though it sounded convincing enough. 

You’d thought of him everyday, day in and day out. You were haunted by him, just as you’d thought yourself to be, haunted by him and by Ketterdam and the Crow Club. You’d vowed never to go back, but then Jesper had written to you and explained that Kaz wanted to discuss something. 

So, hesitantly, you left Novyi Zem, a place you were starting to think could be a home, and there you were. Walking to the Slat and talking to Jesper and ignoring the way that your heart could not stop racing at the thought of seeing Kaz again.  

Jesper only laughed. “Sure. I’ll believe that if you do.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him in retaliation, the rest of the walk being filled with updates on how things had been in Ketterdam and stories of Novyi Zem and the Wandering Isle in turn. 

Then, you were at the Slat, leaning against Kaz’s office door, not looking at him as he did not turn his gaze up from the heist he was planning to look at you.

You summoned a beam of sunlight to your fingertips, made a loose fist and flicked your fingers out, watching amusedly as a sliver of sunlight moved and skittered across the room to Kaz’s desk, glinting sharply against the inkwell that was within his vision and causing him to close his eyes and blink in confusion before he looked up and saw you. 

“Good,” he said. “You’re here. We’ve much to discuss.”

“We’ve nothing to discuss,” you responded. “Unless, of course, this discussion is to begin with you apologizing for leaving me in the dust when I was the reason you didn’t get killed, even if it meant I’d killed two other people as a result. I want an apology, Brekker, and unless you give me one, or, at the very least, a Brekker-ified version, this discussion is over before it can begin.” 

Kaz sighed as he leaned back in his office chair, gesturing to the coffeemaker he kept by the door. 

“You don’t look well rested.” 

“Nor do you.” 

“I can imagine that killing people leaves you with fewer resting hours.” 

You scoffed. “I don’t kill innocents, Brekker. In the four years we knew each other before you left me in the dust, I figured you could’ve deduced that the death of innocent people is strictly against my moral code.” 

“First off, you’re right,” Kaz said. “You saved my life that day. I know. I know it probably means I owe you, too.”

“The one thing you did owe me has just been given,” you said. “Not quite the words I was looking for, but good enough. Now, what do you really want?” 

“To start over,” Kaz said. “We could use a mercenary on the crew, and... people have certainly missed your presence here.” 

You grinned. “People being you, Brekker?” 

Kaz stayed silent, a begrudging look that said: you know exactly what I mean and I am not going to say it out loud because I am afraid that admitting it makes me weak by default lingering in the blue of his eyes. 

“Yeah, people being you,” you nodded, and he nodded. “One reason to agree, then. All I need is one reason.”

“The pay will be decent,” he said. “Better than decent. Name your price.”

“You really are desperate,” you laughed. “Missed me that much, did you?”

“Your price?”

“The biggest available room you have in the Slat,” you said. “My old job at the bar in the Crow Club, and the promise that, if I die on any heist in which I am included, you are the one who churns my ashes in the soil and uses them in the planting of a garden. Don’t care what you grow, as long as you’re the one doing it.” 

Kaz laughed, and the part of you that loved him responded like things were as they had been six months before, your heart giving a flit that you did not put aside. 

“You’re quite the easy bargain,” he said. “I agree to your terms. Welcome back.”

You grinned, and Kaz felt his heart begin to race just the same as it would’ve six months before, when he’d catch you grinning at one of Jespers jokes or something like a dandelion coming up through a crack in the cobblestones. When he would catch a grin that would come onto your face during the rarer sunny days in fall, most often happening after a series of storms, your face turned to the sunlight as you basked in it. 

“You don’t hate me for it still, do you?” You asked. “The fact that I didn’t tell you?”

“I did for a solid two weeks,” he said. “And then my only thought was that you saved my life and that I scorned you for it. I never really hated you, not for a moment. Do you still hate me?” 

You laughed, and Kaz felt his racing heart lighten into the weight of air. 

“I don’t hate you,” you said, approaching the coffeemaker. You started up a pot, grabbed a book from one of his shelves, and found yourself on the windowsill, just like you would’ve been seven months before, reading while he planned out the next big thing and feeling your heart swell every time you looked at him. 

You stayed there through the remainder of the day, occasionally summoning a sunbeam at the right angle while you chatted with Kaz, watching as a rainbow fell across the pages on which he wrote. You felt like yourself again, no longer haunted by Kaz and Ketterdam but rather, happy as ever to be back and in his company. 

[fortunatelyseveredreamland]

What a week…

It’s so weird to be back here. I am sad I deleted my blog so many years ago and forgot what it was even called. I knew I’d come back eventually if something big were to happen. Never thought this exact thing would be the reason.

I was at work on Wednesday when I found out. My hands immediately shook and my heart sank. I couldn’t wait to leave to get home and be able to know more and mourn. As soon as I got in the car, I started crying.

It’d been such a long time since 1D took up this much space in my brain. It feels like a lifetime ago, sitting on tumblr from night to morning. Rewatching the video diaries and music videos millions of times. Making my friends and followers one shots and photoshopped texts. Plastering my entire room with posters from every magazine I could find. But somehow, it also feels like yesterday?

It felt weird to have my mind immediately transport back to being in my room and only caring about the boys. Sleepovers with my bestie revolving around their music.

I don’t think I have ever loved something as much as I love One Direction. The feeling of hanging out with you all and loving the boys so very much. I wish I could feel that way right now without the overwhelming amount of guilt.

I had to come back here with a brand new account and feel this community’s embrace again. The only people that will ever truly understand this feeling. And I’m so glad I did. While everyone is speaking how they feel, they are also sharing old posts, and funny ones. Ones that make all of the good memories come rushing back like a rough river. It’s like I never left. And in some way, I don’t think I ever truly did. I left my heart on this website and in One Direction and now I feel like there is a part of my soul that is never coming back. But maybe in due time, he can live in that void for the rest of time.

I have seen a lot of posts about inner child. But to be honest, I don’t think my inner child is crying. My full adult self is crying. The part of me that would spend all of my life savings on a ticket to an ot5 reunion. The little girl inside of me left long ago, but the adult 27 year old woman who has nothing to look forward to now feels like she’s actively dying inside. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. They were supposed to live until they were 90. It’s just unfair and too soon.

I’d like to say that I hope all of you are doing well. This is the first day since the news that I haven’t been a full puddle of tears, but I also keep waking up and hoping this is a nightmare. I took a shower and blasted take me home. I cried a little bit it was cathartic. It made me feel that all of those memories are worth so much to not only me but to the boys and their families.

I’d like to round this off with my letter to Liam.

Hey Leeyum,

I miss you like crazy already. Which pains me to say because I could’ve been a more active fan for you in the last few years. I knew what had been happening, but always felt like you were going to come out on the other side, stronger. I wish we all could’ve saved you.

Thank you for being you. Thank you for writing songs that helped me through my teenage and early adult years. They still do. Thank you for making us laugh. Thank you for making us proud. I know you wouldn’t want us to wallow in sadness for you. You’d want us to talk about the memories.

The boys love you so much and I hope you knew that. There was no One Direction without you. You were the glue that held it all together. You deserved more public love than you were ever given. I just hope you know how much the 1D family cares and loves you.

I’m so sorry this was the way your story ended. You deserved so much more than life gave you. I will love you until the end of time, sweet boy. <3

I love you all. Please take care of yourselves. I plan on sticking around a while. Hope to see more names that I recognize on my feed.

[ragingbookdragon]

Price dies in a way they always knew he would. In battle, defending the team of people he loved.

He dies in Simon’s arms—not Ghost’s, he’s never Ghost to Price—and makes him promise to take care of his family in his stead.

So Simon does.

He brings Price’s body back, hold’s Price’s wife when she breaks down in the living room of their home, JJ watching from the hallway.

JJ doesn’t cry when they go to Price’s funeral, doesn’t cry when the soldiers salute his mom and him, doesn’t cry when his mom gives him the flag.

He doesn’t cry where his mom can see.

He has to be the man for her now.

He cries in secret. In his bedroom, in Simon’s arms when Simon is awakened from his slumber on the couch to find JJ rubbing at his eyes, “I miss daddy, Uncle Simon.”

Simon remembers his promise to Price.

He makes the decision then and there when JJ tells him why he won’t cry in front of his mother, when he sees his godson bite his lip so hard it bleeds so he won’t cry.

Simon finishes his last contract and gets out of the military.

Moves the family back to Herefordshire and gets a job bartending. It’s easy money, and with the benefits from the government (not to count the amassed amount Price has saved for his family in case of his death), the family lives more than comfortably.

Simon is there, he steps up and becomes the father figure that JJ needs. Teaches him how to be a man, how to live, how to survive.

But he keeps Price alive in the home. Makes sure JJ never forgets who his father was.

When JJ, eligible for enlistment, mentions he wants to be SAS, Simon agrees under one condition, he only serves ten years and gets his degree to do something other than being a soldier. Price’s wife has lost too much to lose her only child too.

JJ agrees, enlists and manages to get under Captain John MacTavish. He thrives under Soap’s leaderships, rises ranks, and when it’s past the ten-year mark, he leaves.

He gets his degree in military history, teaches at the local university for decades until he gets the call from his mother than Simon isn’t long for the night.

So JJ goes home, talks with his mother and is left in the bedroom his mother and Simon share. He remembers how the two had come together in later years. They were never open, but JJ wouldn’t’ve have minded. He knew his father would’ve been okay with them.

He sits, an older man, beside Simon, old and withered, and holds his hand, talks with him. Recounts the old days growing up. Simon teaching him how to drive, how to shave, how to ask a girl out and not look like a weirdo. They laugh and cry and share heart to heart. They mostly laugh at how white their hair is and how their backs hurt.

When Simon feels the long night calling him, he starts to tell JJ about all his regrets in life, how he failed his family, how so many missions failed and he lost soldiers, how sometimes he felt like he failed Price but then he looks at JJ and says, “All the wrong I did, you were the only thing I ever did right.”

JJ takes his hand, squeezes it and tells Simon, “My father was the greatest man I ever knew. Even if he didn’t live to see me grow up, I remember him. But you, Simon, were the best dad a boy could’ve ever asked for. And I wouldn’t trade being your son for anything in the world.”

Simon passes in his sleep.

He’s buried next to his mom and brother’s family.

His mom follows after.

She’s buried beside Price.

And JJ lives the rest of his life teaching his students at university about the greatest men he ever knew until he passes on too.

He wakes up in a field color. Warm spring air and the scent of a million flowers greets him. Then he sees his mom and his father, young, like they were when he was a kid, and he looks at himself, sees him at his best, then JJ sees the others behind them.

Waiting for him.

He hugs his parents, tells them how much he missed them.

Price tells JJ how proud he was of the man he gave life to.

Then he walks up to Simon and stands before the man.

“Hey dad.”

[jacenbren]

Apologies for yet another nonsensical insomnia rant but the fact that Legato Bluesummers a) has never truly been a free man and b) cannot fathom ever living outside of servitude. really hurts man. Like ohhhhhh boy.

In the ‘98 anime (due to trimax being incomplete at the time), we never really got to see the real dark and nasty bits of Legato’s story, and trigun stampede hasn’t yet gotten a chance to really delve into his character. While Legato still served the same purpose as he did in the manga with similar events playing out, I think a lot of his character’s depth was missing in tri98—we never really learn why it is that Legato is so deeply devoted to Knives, and he’s portrayed as a lot more… theatrical?? than he is in the manga?? anyway. Tri98 Legato serves his narrative purpose and is a great villain, but he seems a bit shallow, for lack of a better word, mostly because we don’t actually get to learn a lot about him.

In comparison to his counterparts, trimax Legato is… kinda a loser. The second we meet Knives, Legato gets crumpled like a soda can and spends the majority of the series as a quadriplegic who sits menacingly in the shadows in his body brace/coffin thing (which I affectionately like to call his Bitch Cocoon). He spends his time being very weird and unlikeable and tormenting Vash in various ways, all while dramatically singing Knives’s praises, despite him being the guy who quite literally rearranged all of Legato’s limbs and permanently crippled him. All in all, despite being an absolute menace in combat and just a generally fucking unsettling guy, Legato’s kind of pathetic and really easy to dunk on at first. Just ask Elendira, who roasts the shit out of him on a daily basis because she’s bored and even “accidentally” chucks a glass of water at him! He’s an easy target!

However, I think this makes the absolute gut punch that is finding out why Legato is the way he is infinitely worse, which I absolutely adore from a narrative and storytelling standpoint.

Legato has been a slave since he was a child, in every way but name—well, he was literally a slave as a child, and more specifically, a sex slave. He grew up knowing nothing other than the absolute worst of humanity, instilling a hatred towards his own kind that would last his entire life. It’s made abundantly clear that Legato doesn’t value himself in the slightest, because he grew up as little more than a commodity, to use and dispose. When Knives razes the city Legato’s being held captive in, and goes to kill him, this is the first act of kindness he has ever received, and yet also the greatest unkindness—Knives has destroyed Legato’s life, no matter how abhorrently shitty it was. Legato has never lived a life outside slavery, so he has no idea what to do with himself.

So he turns to Knives. Millions Knives, whose goal is to eradicate the humans who have done nothing but make Legato suffer. Knives, who seems all too willing to put him out of his misery should he turn down Legato’s offer to serve him.

Legato cannot fathom a life without a master, without pain and suffering and servitude. He cannot comprehend the idea of freedom, and most of all, he can’t understand Vash. He can’t understand that someone whose kind has been used and abused by humans for centuries, who’s suffered for decades alone in the desert, could find it in himself to forgive and love the ones who hurt him so unconditionally. Vash’s very existence infuriates Legato, because Vash is a mirror image of him—a mirror image whose trauma didn’t swallow him whole and turn him into something despicable. Sure, Knives might’ve saved him, but he’s just another master to serve. Knives broke every bone in his body as punishment for disobedience, and yet somehow, Knives still favors his brother—who keeps running, who keeps refusing, who keeps avoiding his past—over Legato, who’s sworn to never disobey his orders again.

Vash is what Legato could’ve been. Vash is what Legato desperately wants to be. The problem is, Legato refuses to heal, and he doesn’t want to be fixed, either.

[sapphic-agent]

I thought of something that could add to the discussion around Izuku and Shigaraki. Back in the first war arc, Hawks made the morally gray decision to kill Twice before he could start multiplying and endanger the lives of every hero in the war. He didn’t seem to want to do it, but he did, because a lot more people would have died if he didn’t. Twice also wasn’t as malicious as Shigaraki and was portrayed as one of the more sympathetic League members.

Compare this to the current fight between Izuku and Shigaraki, where Izuku insists on saving him even when Shigaraki has been threatening to destroy everything, with the “sympathetic” part of him being buried underneath metaphorical rubble. There are parallels between the two, but I don’t know if Horikoshi intended there to be.

It adds to the problem of how Horikoshi never properly set up Izuku’s conflict of “saving” Shigaraki. It’s been mentioned by others how the relationship between Izuku and Shigaraki wasn’t expanded enough, but another way the conflict could’ve had more impact was through the reactions of other characters.

Hawks could have talked to Izuku about his decision, possibly pushing back against Izuku trying to save him and saying it’s “necessary” to kill Shigaraki because he’s too big a threat. And if he was written better as a more strict mentor, Aizawa could have been a character that pushed back against Izuku’s insistence towards saving Shigaraki, with possible parallels to Kurogiri/Oboro, while also pointing out the irrationality of (unintentionally) prioritizing one life over the millions of Japan (compared to his inconsistent logic in canon).

Seemingly the only significant pushback Izuku gets for his decision is from the vestiges who would probably be the only ones who would understand him when he talks about Shigaraki’s inner child. Instead we’ve got Izuku still insisting on saving Shigaraki, or the child inside of him, not only risking his life but also probably the entire country of Japan if he fails, and Horikoshi is forcing him down that path by making Shigaraki so overpowered that he can’t defeat him the normal way.

To add a question onto this, what do you think could have been done in the story to better set up Izuku’s decision to save Shigaraki, or at least what could’ve been done to make sure that Izuku didn’t come off as overly misguided in his decision?

Bestie, you hit the mark with this one.

I agree with basically everything here. Having Hawks talk to and relate to Izuku's situation (seriously, why is it so hard to get positive Hawks interaction) would have been perfect. Izuku learning that you can't save people who don't want to be saved would have been a crucial lesson as it goes against everything his built himself up to be.

There's saving people, and then there's the fucking mental torture Horikoshi's putting Izuku through for no goddamn reason.

There's actually a few things I think could have been done.

The mall scene should have been extended. I like it for what it is, but it really doesn't get into the difference in their ideals or what really sets them apart from each other. The parallels were all there, Hori just couldn't design to expand on them

Izuku should have been the one kidnapped, not Bakugou. Fucking Bakugou's kidnapping was so useless to the plot. All it proved was that Shigaraki can't recognize what makes a villain. Bakugou had everything handed to him his whole life, why would he compromise his secure future? Izuku would have had every reason to be a villain, but wanted to be a hero. This could have been the arc where the two of them learn to understand one another. Izuku sees the hurt kid and Shigaraki sees the battered hero

To expand off #2, I think it should have led to them both trying to "save" one another. Shigaraki wants Izuku to give into his hurt and anger, Izuku wants to give Shigaraki a chance at reformation. And that would make their final fight so much more interesting. They both think they're doing the other a favor when in reality Izuku doesn't want to hurt others and Shigaraki doesn't want to conform to society. And that ends up with one of them finishing things off for good

This Izuku vs Shigaraki fight should have had way more buildup. But that would mean properly developing Izuku and Horikoshi would rather die🤷🏾‍♀️

[battle-subway-aftershow]

Inconspicuous mustache and glasses on, soooo you wanna talk about how galar could be good huh?

Points at you this is all your fucking fault (/j)

Anyways you’ve poked me so I’m going to talk about it now. Sorry not sorry.

Before I say anything: “Moth, Tinker, don’t like, all your characters live in galar?” Yes! Because when you’re making an au for Pokémon why make a region out of scratch, when Game Freak’s left a perfectly good blank slate for you right there?

Anyways with that out of the way, I’m putting this under a cut because this is going to be long.

Sword and shield are such disappointing games. You could say a million things about it— the graphics, the routes, the nat dex cut, so on and so forth, but that’s a long dead horse and im not going to start beating it.

I like Sw/Sh’s story. Or, more accurately I like the idea of the story that the games tried and failed to give us. I really want to say there’s something there to grasp at, but honestly? There’s not. Nothing burger ass game.

The plot up until the climax of the story is “The darkest day was a thing and there was a hero that stopped it. Bede’s mean and wants wishing stars. Wait, what?! There’s two heroes? And badass dogs? No way!”

It genuinely feels like they had a full story arc with plot beats written out, but had to scratch everything besides the climax and try to fill in the gaping plot holes as quickly as they could before they hit the deadline for release. It’s so jarring and bizarre when you reach the climax of the story, because it’s just… out of nowhere? You and Hop try to break into the Macro Cosmos tower to interrupt Leon’s meeting because he was… late for dinner? And Oleana hears this and starts acting like an unhinged evil antagonist out of nowhere, even though at the moment not letting you in is just, perfectly logical?

And then the whole hide and seek game she does for the keys— Team Yell joining in, none of this feels deserved at all, probably because there was, I don’t know, supposed to be things happening before this that properly built up to it?

It’s so frustrating, because if they had even executed the story at all, it would’ve been so cool. The guy who practically MADE galar is re-awakening what is basically an eldritch god in a misguided attempt to save the region from future disaster (trauma? Paranoia? All of the above?) but his plan backfires and nearly destroys everything instead??? It’s such a cool idea! And it’s just. Barely even executed at all.

Oleana and Rose both could’ve been such interesting characters. Their Pokémon teams are symbolic of themselves as people, for crying out loud! Imagine how cool those fights, especially Oleana’s, could’ve been if there had been a proper fucking storyline??

(I won’t go too in-depth, but Oleana using beautiful and feminine Pokémon up until her g-max garbador ace— a literal heaping pile of trash? And how that represents the her horrible personality hidden behind her appearance?

And how Rose’s team is made up of thorn and thorn-like Pokémon, as well as industrial Pokémon and his childhood starter? Without a rose in sight? He’s lost who he was to the pursuit of innovation or something. There’s no Rose anymore, only the thorns. Too bad there’s nothing before these moments.)

It ends up just feeling like a barely even executed dollar store version of Sun and Moon. You’ve got the punk evil team who isn’t actually evil, the altruistic company/foundation that turns out to be far worse than the evil team, extraterrestrial pokemon who are very debatably Pokémon being brought into the world and causing problems? Yeah everything screams “we tried to recreate the s/m formula,” down to Hop using Hau’s animations. Insane.

(Also team yell feels like another dead horse that I don’t want to beat— but they don’t work like Team Skull did. Team skull worked! Really well in my opinion! Meanwhile Team Yell is just… kind of a vague nuisance. I get that was the point, but if Macro Cosmos was going to be the villains— why not give any buildup beforehand? Oh well. I said I wouldn’t beat the dead horse.)

Tl;dr: Sword and shield is barely even trash, it’s an empty dumpster with some unopened cans in it and I am sitting in there playing with the cans trying to create a coherent story out of it. Man galar’s good if only it was good. Go watch Twilight wings it’s Galar if it was good

And also sw/sh feels uncannily like bootleg sun and moon, bri’ish edition.

[blood-n-candy]

The Birth of a Monster

Fandom: Pressure

Summary: The endless cycle of dying and salvaging crystals is changing you... And for the worse

WARNING: THIS FIC CONTAINS (ALTHOUGH NOT GRAPHICAL) CRUEL KILLING OF A BABY SQUIDDLE! DO NOT GET MAD AT ME IF YOU GET DISTURBED, I WARNED YOU!!!

Look at you… Standing in the empty hallway of an underwater containment facility.

You’ve been staring at the door in front of you for quite a while now. 

You’re supposed to go forward, to carry out your task.

But you don’t feel like it. You’ve been doing this for so long. You know you’ll probably do this until the end of time.

From a long time ago, you came to realize that you are trapped.

You went from serving prison on a sentence you do not remember anymore, to serving as a “crystal snatcher” for Urbanshade. What could’ve condemned you to this predicament? You’ve been asking yourself for quite a while, yet you cannot find an answer.

Now, you did secure Z-001, you did it multiple times by now: every small cut you can count on your left forearm represents a successful escape, each of them adding themselves automatically. And yet, every single time you woke up again in that dormitory at HQ, as if all of your progress had been resetted. 

In fact, you actually did save the Hadal Blacksite, but it was just one of the billions of Hadal Blacksites that exist: billions of underwater facilities that periodically get compromised, so that millions of expendables like you can run around and be slaughtered every hour of the day and night.

Perhaps the others are in the same boat as well, capable of reviving at lightning speeds and forced to live under the same cycle. But at this point, it doesn’t matter: that means nobody can help you get out, after all.

Death. Death is pretty much meaningless in this sisyphean hell you’re in. Death, here in the Hadal Blacksite, is not an escape.

You have died countless times, trying to secure those crystals. You have seen it all: hungry anglers rushing through the corridors, sharks frying your brain in seconds, AIs using you as target practice... You know each copy of each entity like the back of your hand, even if sometimes you die by them as if you’ve never seen them before.

Even if you’ve been told to “forgive them, for they are only animals”, you’ve been harboring nothing but hatred for them. Yes, your “friend” Sebastian too.

Your unbreakable saṃsāra does not foresee an end to your loneliness, at least in a way that can let you have friends.

By now, your frozen heart is filled with resentment and a desire for retaliation. You can feel it’s…

…It’s rotting away who you once were

Yes. It’s consuming you. 

You barely remember who you were before the arrest, what you enjoyed, who loved and cherished you. 

Your name… You forgot your name, haven’t you? Or is that string of letters and numbers on your jumpsuit your only name now? 

As for what you can see… Try to remember the last time you looked at yourself in a mirror, a window of the Blacksite, or just any reflective surface for that matter: Were you keeping your head low? Were your eyes depleted of any spark of hope? Did you feel just as disgusting to look at as the monsters hunting you down every day?

That’s what I thought: you are tired of being the prey, you are inching closer to joining the predators of the depths. You’ll develop your weapons, eventually, but you must practice your hunting skills first…

Ah! Look what is crawling right in front of you: a miniature black mass, shaped like… A Squiddle! How many times have those fuckers jumpscared you again? Far too many. And for a monster in the making like you, they’re nothing but target practice. Even better when they’re small and young, when they cannot run away fast enough or fight back.

Grab the baby Squiddle… Good. See how it squirms in your grasp, how it pathetically attempts to generate a “scary face” to drive you away… It’s nothing but a bunch of incoherent white lines, far from resembling even an eye.

I wonder how fine of a meal it could make, how tender its pitch black flesh could be… And you? You don’t also wish to find out what a Squiddle tastes like?

Go on, open those jaws wide…

A squeak of pain, a wet splat followed by black goo smearing your face and hand… And the little freak is dead in your mouth. With your teeth, you rip off a piece and start chewing. Its flesh has a gummy consistency, almost like eating an octopus-flavored marshmallow. The aforementioned black liquid is a mixture of blood and squid ink, it adds a salty taste to your meal.

Truly, a delicacy you wish to have discovered earlier. And to think you resorted to feed on Wall Dwellers until now…

You see the lights flicker, the well-known sign something’s coming towards you. You spot a door, the kind that leads to side office rooms and hide you away from your enemies. You quickly enter and sit behind a desk: you are going to finish your meal in peace, and no giant angler fish shall dare to interrupt you.

Perhaps, someday… the angler will become the meal itself.

[king-zer0]

AGGHHHHHHH NOOOOOO I HATE FREDDYY AND GREGORY NOW

LIKE WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THEM??? Y/N COULD’VE HELPED THEM

OH MAN THEY ALMOST COMPLETED THE GAME WHICH MEAN THE PIZZARIA IS GOING TO BURN DOWNNNN

AND THE DCA IS DOWN THERE WHICH MEAN Y/N WILL MOST LIKELY GO IN THE FIRE TO SAVE THEM

AND THEY WILL TAKE THEM HOME And fix them and live with them… and that’s actually a great ending, I mean if later on y/n goes back to fix the other ones. Like they will be like the domesticated AU. And imagine them discovering the outside world, but having to go undercover because y/n kind of stole a millions worth bot.

I need my revenge on Freddy and Gregory though, I love this 2 normally but right now I wanna murder something. What if Freddy comes for helps since yk, he hasn’t got any home and he has a child rn. OR MAYBE THEY HELPED VANESSA WHICH MEANS THE VIRUS DOESNT EXIST ANYMORE. It would be cool if Freddy fazballs had to explain himself of all the crimes his ten year old has committed.

Or maybe y/n won’t be able to help them. Like when the fire appears Matt won’t let them go and he will take them to a safe place, I will be hard for though since he will leave the DJ (maybe he will keep the mini music men so they are safe). (Not so probable but maybe cause of the trauma and all the mini music men Matt and y/n are roommates, platonically, let’s not go the wrong way please.) Morgan? Who tf is that? And the place will burn down with them there, which means maybe y/n is gonna have to wait months or years to go back there (police or sum) and when they get back…. (Y/n breaks in) There is Eclipse from the ruin dlc, I mean that would be either super cute or super sad cause maybe they remember y/n and y/n finds another way to help them than to reboot them, or maybe Cassie’s already been here and they don’t remember y/n. And so that means Y/n will probably help Cassie while trying to help the dca with their memories, maybe they remember, maybe not.

GGRGRGRG LOOK AT ALL THIS POSSIBILITIES ITS STRESSING ME THE FUCK OUTTT

@strawbubbysugar your fic is driving me crazy (in a good a bad way cause I love it too much)