#because she killed me dead the one time I tried her fight before the ending this time

[twilightknight17]

The Promised Day - Part 3

Man, I left this for a while. God. Too much to do, too little time, and work is fucking exhausting. But let’s talk about the ending, finally.

Where last we stood, the Great Seal was cast, and everything faded to white.

Probably the closest any of you will ever get to seeing the Sea of Souls.

It’s crushing, how upset they are that everyone made it but one person. Honestly, I get the sense that any number of casualties would have been too much. This was an all-or-nothing fight. It was supposed to be that everyone goes home, or no one does.

But no, the one person they lost was their leader. In the end, there was nothing they could do.

…….it’s not the Sea of Souls, it’s the Universe. Oh god. Of course he can hear them.

Stop talking like you and Nyx are the same. T_T You’re not!

He does sound proud of them, though.

SEES is returned to the front of the school, Tartarus dissolves into light, and Minato walks out of the now-normal building so that everyone can hug him and cry all over him. If I didn’t know how this ends, I’d be really mad about ten minutes from now.

I do like that, after the timeskip, this version of the ending starts the exact same way as the other one, since they still don’t have their memories in this version.

Man oh man am I popular, though. This isn’t even all my social links, and look how many people want to talk to me!

It’s morbidly hilarious that this game literally started the trend of “walk around and talk to everyone the day before the ending”, but Minato’s the only modern protag who wasn’t going to leave. Not by choice, anyway.

You and your girlfriend can’t both have amnesia, my guy. Get it together.

We find out that Kenji is excited because apparently there are going to be three new teachers next year, and they’re all hot. So he has learned nothing. Lots of social links sent letters, because the end of their link was literally them leaving town.

(Minato wasn’t going to leave, everyone else was. Inverse Persona ending. X’’’D)

The Gourmet King is gone (no tears here). Maiko’s dad says she’s doing well but also says I’m absolutely not allowed to marry her. We’re able to give Akinari’s mom the notebook with his story in it. Mamoru and Kaz are doing fine. Bebe, tragically, has decided not to come back to Japan right away. He’s gonna stay with his uncle for a while so they can grieve his aunt together.

Ms. Toriumi is taking the accidental revelation that I’m her MMO buddy very well.

God I laughed so hard.

All the cats I saved from Tartarus are vibing in the back alley!

I think I saved eight total? I wonder if there’s more. Secret cat ending. Fill the whole alley.

And…

...can I listen to my music box now? Please. T_T

As Mitsuru makes her graduation speech, SEES starts to remember, and rushes for the roof, where Aigis and Minato are already skipping the ceremony.

That’s a long time.

I ended up dating Aigis just because I actually maxed her link, and I think the only other girl I maxed was Yuko? Maybe? And Maya, but that wasn’t a romance option, which I still think is weird.

So, the credits. They, uh, didn’t have to do that. Like, it’s brilliant. Having his silhouette sinking deeper and deeper and gradually fading away to represent him doing the same. He vanishes completely and only then does it end, and we get to see SEES reach the roof just barely too late. Beautifully done, Atlus, I started tearing up, how dare you. X’D

And then the main menu is no longer the Dark Hour.

So, overall, other than some nitpicks, I think this was a really solid game. But as a modern remake of a preexisting game, I think they could have gone further. Why NOT just make your male teammates possible social links? Why NOT include Hamuko? Why NOT include The Answer with the base game? Why lie and say you want the “core” (read: original base game) P3 experience, but then add new things?

Why make Ryoji tell you he wants to be more than friends and then not give you a third dialogue option?!?!?

(I know the answer is money. It’s always money. I am just salty.)

But I could forgive more of that if they hadn’t nerfed the final boss. I did some googling, and pinpointed some other things about the Nyx Avatar fight that didn’t line up. Before, he could attack twice per turn. This one can’t. They gave the Death Arcana an extra thousand health, but the old version automatically took half-damage from EVERYTHING except almighty. They took away Moonless Gown, and therefore took away his ability to become invulnerable. Apocalypse can reduce your HP to 1%, but if he’s not attacking twice per turn, someone always has time to heal, so who even cares?

(Shoutout to the Fandom wiki for being like, “It is strongly encouraged to heal when it uses this skill”. No shit, guys. Wow.)

And yeah, they buffed his spells up a level, but ultimately, all the things that might have actually made the boss genuinely hard got nerfed.

It kind of sucks. They gave him a cool new color scheme for the final arcana and then weakened him. Why even.

Anyway, gonna do NG+ on hard mode to finish all social links and the compendium, and also probably going to do something really stupid like solo the Avatar with my level 99 Minato and Thanatos just for giggles.

Because hell yeah. :D

[space-blue]

Disappointed in the Vander backstory

I fully expected that it was coming, but I'm disappointed in the timeline all the same.

The "Vander got upset because a fight against Piltover Silco instigated killed the woman he loved" was literally my first draft for my longfic Fathers and Daughters, and I ended up scrapping it because I felt it was too cheap and wouldn't justify the violence of his actions against Silco.

"When she died I lost my head" he says in the letter.

But when she died you actually dropped your gauntlets and picked up the girls and everyone has been assuming this was the moment you swore off violence...

The fact she goes on to let Vander name her kid, and seems to be thick as thieves with them, and ALSO tells them of the pregnancy before she builds up the courage to tell her partner... Tells me that surely... SURELY by the time Vi is 10-11, whatever she is on the bridge in season 1, she would KNOW SILCO as her mom's bestie, no??? Not just Vander.

It feels like this entire angle is pulled under the rug to simplify the conflict in act 1.

I do appreciate being right on the money with Silco knowing and being friends with the mom, and having known Vi as a baby. I think it makes sense, especially if he was an important community leader.

I just hate her death being the catalyst of Vander's actions against Silco. It means that the timeline actually like this:

Mom-Silco-Vander are best friends. Silco is "Bozo 1" and has been leading the transformation of the Lanes with Vander's help. He's already planning his nation of Zaun. His notebook is literally saying "NZ" for Nation of Zaun.

At an ONGOING confrontation with enforcers, Silco throws a molotov cocktails that doesn't seem to even kill an enforcer (Powder and her innefectual bombs parallel? The entire scene is intercut with the monkey bomb clapping so... The scene leading to a friend's death also parallels the events of Jinx's birth.)

As the smoke clears/the POV looks down, we have the reveal that the girls' Mom is dead.

Vander admits the blood was on his hands as well, meaning he either started this confrontation with Silco, or fought just as badly/increased the violence (and we see him murder enforcers later on). Anyway he admits to carrying the blame, and apologized in person to Silco for the dubbed "betrayal".

Then he went home, shaved, dragged Silco into the Pilt, and tried to drown him *because their common friend died at the failed uprising*.

He's then haunted, seemingly, by visions of Silco being dead:

To me it's sort of weaker and sadder, as it establishes Vander as someone more flawed and less ruthless. It's not that he wanted the Lanes, it's not that Silco was getting in the way of what he wanted.

Vander was out there happy with everything they were dishing out, right until their actions cost the life of a friend, and he broke, emotionally, and BLAMED it on Silco, going so far as to kill him (or try).

He surrendered his gauntlets, picked the children up, tucked them in at home, shaved (I cannot stress this enough), then took Silco into the fucking river and brutally attempted to murder him.

Then he massively regretted it and left little breadcrumbs of apologies in case Silco found them and returned to him.

So, canon couple, first off lol

Fellas, is it gay to hang your jackets inside each other's in your secret hideout? Is it gay that all your core hidden memories begin with your mate smiling at you?

Yes, yes it is. Zaundad is canon and I'm not taking commentary.

Secondly, that means Vander was an emotional ticking time bomb who wasn't ready for the price to sacrifice in order to gain their freedom. I really wonder what the alternative reality would have been like, were Silco the one dying on that bridge.

Anyway, it brings some twisted sadness to the situation, because the mom wanted Zaun "no matter what" for Vi's sake, her child's future. But Vander decided that lives weren't worth spilling over that dream and tried to kill Silco over it, before teaming up with Grayson to continue enforcing a status quo.

So that means that Silco, even as he raises Jinx, is continuing her mother's dream, of building Zaun, a country that's safe for her children, "no matter what".

But very sadly the show also acts like Silco doesn't know the kids, and like the kids don't know him. Powder, sure, but Vi not knowing Silco is just downright stupid. Not even knowing him by name? When her mom was out fighting alongside him??? The mom is ALSO a miner, very clearly working with Silco and Vander, alongside the nameless poor husband.

I feel like this doesn't really solve the issues that were already raised when we speculated about act 1. It just clarifies that Vander was truly, willfully a force of oppression inside the fissures, working against the revolution necessary for Zaun becoming possible.

But it implies Silco didn't recognise Powder and Vi, and that Vi didn't recognise him or understand how he knew Vander. It's a disservice to the story, because that tie, that old bond, could really have worked to dramatize the sacrifices Silco is ready to make, as well as the depth of Vi's hatred for him.

But the show acts like they're strangers and that Vander's death is the core beef between them until Jinx enters the picture.

And then there's the Benzo scene, when Vander holds his wound from Silco's knife, and says "we both know there's worse than enforcers out there" WHO ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT??? Yourself? You seem to be the worst thing around here! It seems clear he knew Silco was alive but had nothing to blame him for by then.

I'm left with holes that take the shape of "shock value" and "plot twist".

"Ooooh Silco knew the mom, twiiiist, but please don't think about the implications, because we wrote season 1 without taking this in consideration."

Feels like another job for fic writers, but IDK if I have the strength for it. I just like my own version better.

At least now we know that Silco did not IN FACT DO anything to "deserve" what he got. I'm sorry, but throwing a molotov at enforcers when fighting for your freedom is based and Vander was dishing death right there next to him.

The base violence necessary for change, eh? Vander just delayed the price being paid for Zaun's creation.

[solannn]

Hi!! Can I request a male! reader x boten Where the reader is a waiter at their favorite restraint for gangs/mafia whatever and Mikey takes a liking to him but they find out he’s only doing the job because he’s a single father, and they want to keep him (not super good with translating my ideas sorry)- 🦇 anon

ᥫ᭡ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⤷ male reader and single father of a child named “Myrei”, she is kind, and love her father.

[Name] saw a potentially dangerous man enter the bar, with his gang members, he assumed. It was the first time they had visited the large and incredibly beautiful bar where he had worked here for several years. The boy's men probably hide a weapon in their pockets if there's a problem, most of the gangs do this, and sometimes it's just that he has a shootout because of a quarrel started by a drunk man who ends up dead. the end. [Name] thought their boss was the man with short white hair, he was short but his appearance could be deceiving, but they could also be wrong about him being a boss.

The waiter tried to concentrate on his customers, but the imposing aura of the armed men scared him. He was used to this kind of situation, but he felt like he'd seen it somewhere on his television late at night. After wondering their name its suddenly came to mind, Bonten, something like that. They were one of the most dangerous organizations in Japan, inviting prostitutes and killing them after having pleasuring time them, cruelty towards others human being, and much more. For them it was like a hobby that entertained them, but [Name] hated that kind of person. So, to protect his life he decided not to say too much that could cause a general fight.

He wanted to avoid them at all costs before his manager told him that these men were men who deserved lust and merit to flatter their immense egos, so he asked him to serve them drinks, food, and everything what they wished they had. [Name] was flattered that his presence was lustful, but he was also uncomfortable talking to them but his manager comforted him by putting his hand on his shoulder telling him. "I know how you feel, but unfortunately you are the only one qualified to talk to people at such levels." [Name] sighed, he puffed out his chest a little and thanked his comrade who had just comforted him. He walked towards the table of men, they were all different from each other, one seemed drugged to the point of stupidity, one depressed, one who was probably arrogant, one with a neutral expression and others.

“Hello gentlemen, what can we offer you today.” He asked them and made his famous smile known by his comrades or the customers who came each time. He tried to appear friendly, and pretended to be pure and innocent, he wanted them to have pity for him but they probably didn't have any, but he still tried to seduce them. He waited for their answers for a few seconds before a man with long, white hair asked him. “what is boeuf bourgignon?” he pronounced the word wrong, but with a smile [Name] answered him. "boeuf bourguignon is a dish of beef braised in red wine, and served with a garnish of pearl onions, mushrooms and bacon. It is one of the most popular dishes in France made by a French-Japanese chef." he replied, detailing the appearance of the meat and its garnish. the man nodded and said "I'll take that then." he grinned back, [Name] noted as he took out a paper and a style from his pocket to wrote it.

“I would like a dorayaki.” No, it wasn't a request but an order, he could tell the difference between that. It was simple to distinguish, he kept a smile and wrote his order. After taking their orders one added. “Get me some wine, one of the best from here.” [Name] scratched his neck, and nodded. “of course sir, everything will be in order.” he addressed them before leaving towards the restaurant counter. "Hey Boss, I'm not feeling this place. I'm not having fun." He stretched while taking another drug, to relax. "Their boss didn't say anything, he was just hungry. He glanced to his left, and saw the waiter talking on the phone with someone. He had a smile soft, and not forced when in front of him.

“Kokonoi.” He called one of his members coldly. The boy became tense, he looked at his boss and said. “Yes, sir?” Who is this waiter we saw a few minutes ago? "mhm, I think his name is [Name] Bonavich, he is 27 years old, he has been working in a bar, restaurant for a few years so that his daughter has a good education and other things. He is a single father we will say." he tells Mikey, his boss, the boy's information. Before coming here, he looked for data on the people working in this popular place.

the waiter came towards them again after about thirty minutes of discussion with their meal in hand. Their dish was quite heavy to bear but he pretended it wasn't and placed their meal on the table. “Enjoy your appetite, sir.” He smiled but before leaving, the person who wanted to avoid everything grabbed his arm to say something to him. Their members were surprised by Mikey's sudden gesture, maybe he had a deal with him and was going to kill him. [Name] stressed a little, praying that he wouldn't ask anything strange like being his prostitute or something. “Yes?” he cleared his throat at the same time.

“after i eat you will come in my car, you will be my own waiter for bonten only.” The boy with dark circles under his eyes ordered him shut, without any expression on his face. "oh! ohm..of course." His day was ruined, his daughter was probably waiting for him at home and maybe she wanted to play before going to sleep. He walked towards the bar counter and went into the break room where his friends and his manager were. "people! I'm a dead man!" He whispered, carrying his voice a little so he could hear it. “ehh why.” a girl with extravagant makeup that stood out from the criteria of the Japanese beauty standard stated it was gyaru makeup. She dyed her hair red, to stand out even more. "what are you doing darling? probably isn’t someone as coolish as me ihh" she spoke mockingly not taking the situation to heart. “Shut up Ameyru! Let him talk.” An androgynous boy told her to shut up, she did but she rolled her eyes. "you see the Bonten, they are here and their boss asked me to become their personal waiter--" Ameyru laughed.

"lol! wait what! kyaaaa... these guys are creepy if you don't do your right job you're ekkkkk" at the end of her sentence she made the zombie noise, and with her thumb she pretended to slit her throat. The manager was shocked at the revelation and didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do about it," he felt unable to say another word. The androgynous boy next to him put his hand on his shoulder. "Kyoru.." he whispered, making him smile a little. Ameryu stopped laughing and took it seriously. "I'm sorry too, yikes! they are the most horrendous human ya know.." she said, knowing that if he left, she would miss him immensely. "wahhh!!! it's horrible.!" she said running towards her friend and grabbed him with a hug

"I'm sad, super. Hey Ryuba you will console me right." the haired boy nodded. "I'll try if you don't break my mind," he sighed and rushed to hug his friend, Kyoru joined them too. "mhh, and to think that you've been here for 9 years, we could have reached 10 years of anniversary of you working here.. “awhh guys." [Name] was touched by their words almost having tears in his eyes. when he was released from the hug, he greeted them, perhaps for the last time and left. "Ameyru is depressed.." tears ran down her puffy cheek "ugh.."

When he returned to the room where the gang was he saw blood on the floor. Someone was eliminated, but he had not heard the sound of a gun, perhaps a knife murder. The man was a customer who was probably drunk, he walked over and noticed that Bonten had finished eating. Mikey waited patiently for the boy, he walked towards the leader without saying a word.

He left the restaurant, letting himself go for fear of dying. One of the members opened the door for him, and he stepped inside and sighed. He moved to the back of the car, and the others got in. They were almost all crammed in, but the car was wide enough to fit a little. Stressed out by this long, boring moment while the driver drove the car, he needed something to sink his teeth into. He wanted to take his cigarette but unfortunately he'd left it on the counter.

He left the restaurant, letting himself go for fear of dying. One of the members opened the door for him, and he stepped inside and sighed. He moved to the back of the car, and the others got in. They were almost all crammed in, but the car was wide enough to fit a little. Stressed out by this long, boring moment while the driver drove the car, he needed something to sink his teeth into. He wanted to take his cigarette but unfortunately he'd left it on the counter.

It was a long trip, and [name] was worried because he recognized the road he was driving on his way home. The driver stopped in front of his destination, his apartment building. His heart stopped and his eyes widened as he wondered what would happen to his child. One of the members got out of the car and went to the apartment. [Name] started to speak, but a man put a gun to his head. "He said, "If you dare say anything, I'll shoot you in the face.”He threatened to shoot him, but he quickly shut up. In the back of his mind, he sighed so as not to draw attention to himself. The minutes were long, very long, he felt as if they had stopped an hour ago. He looked out the window to his left, watching the people passing by, afraid of the car. Probably wondering if they were going to die too.

A few minutes passed and the tension grew. When one of the members returned, he had a sleeping child in his arms. He walked around the car to the left door, opened it, and handed [name] his child. He took her under his shoulders and put her on his lap. He rested his head on her chest, but a question lingered in the back of his mind: did he kill the babysitter he'd hired years ago, or was he showing compassion? Preferring not to answer, he stroked his child's head with a faint smile.

His child was sleeping peacefully, as if someone had rocked him to sleep. This made [Name] happy, but he didn't want to show it to a gang, so he decided to save his smile for his daughter. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the dejected look on the boss's face, so he quickly looked away, not wanting to see his expression. The gang began to talk among themselves, fed up with the tension caused by Mikey's pressure. The little man said nothing, remaining completely silent.

He felt a sudden urge to sleep. His eyelids grew heavy with each blink, and he put his hand over his mouth and yawned. He told himself it was late, 23 in his opinion. At 11 p.m., the lights went out in the small town and he could see people enjoying themselves with their friends. He sighed one last time, clutched his child, and fell asleep, unable to help himself.

──────

He woke up suddenly, his eyes wide open. "Is this a nightmare?" he asked himself, but no. The place he was in wasn't his home; it was too big for a one-person room. The room was almost as big as his apartment. "They're filthy rich...after all, they're a mafia..." he muttered and looked around, not seeing his child. He stood up and rushed to the door. He opened it abruptly and left the room, nothing as he stepped out onto a wide red carpeted staircase. He also had a view of the living room. "..." he didn't know what to say, amazed at the size of this mansion. He heard a child's playful cry at the bottom of the stairs. Running up and down the stairs as if his life depended on it, he looked to his left and saw Myrei, her child playing with one of the members? He wasn't sure if it was a babysitter, but it had a remarkable tattoo. He walked towards them, his daughter smiling as she saw him approach. "Daddy!!!" She couldn't help but scream.

She was so overly excited that she gave her trust to the person in front of him. A man with black hair and a huge scar on his face, [Name], glared at him while carrying his child. "I assure you, I'm not here to hurt anyone on behalf of the boss." He was admitting the truth, their boss? No, he wasn't dreaming, and he didn't seem to be lying. [Name] sighed and let go of Myrei. "Oh dad, no need to worry, he's super super nice the Mr.!!! The others were cool with their shots too!!!" Myrei was only 6 years old, she didn't know what she was saying, she was just a child and she was being manipulated. Negative thoughts invaded his mind and lowered his impressions of the Mafia, even if they were already low enough.

After a brief discussion between the two adults, [Name] felt an icy hand on his shoulder and arched his back at the sensation. He was about to say something insulting, but he stopped himself and turned his head to see Mikey, the boy with short white hair. "I put your clothes that were at home in the closet and the uniform is on your bed, if you've seen it." He said his coldly, showing no mercy, but deep inside he was interested in him without realizing it. “Oh okay.. I’ll prepare myself than.”

──────

After getting ready in the bedroom, the boss waited patiently outside his door. He gasped slightly and bowed in respect. Mikey told him there was no point in bowing and asked him to follow him to his office. He followed with a fake smile on his lips. When they entered the room, Mikey sat down on a rather large and comfortable chair. While [Name] sat on a chair probably made of rusty metal because it creaked. Mikey handed him a piece of paper that showed how much he would be charged. [Name] looked at it for a moment before taking it and reading it. He was shocked, the amount was huge, he could live luxuriously on it every month. The man in the black t-shirt and pants didn't know what to say, but he appreciated [Name]'s smile, it reminded him of someone so close to him. He pushed his memories away, trying not to connect the past with the present.

"I like your genuine smile." Mikey stated it bluntly. [Name] stopped celebrating the money in his head and tilted his head, surprised by the remark. Had he been smiling? He hadn't even noticed. "Oh, thank you!" He smiled even more, a pink blush appearing on his cheek, he didn't know why he was blushing because he should be used to this kind of compliment, but coming from him, it felt strange.

[notafunkiller]

Bucky Barnes is the best super soldier

How it was subtly emphasized in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier:

He always holds back

With the Flag Smashers and even with John Walker. We could see the difference in the last 3 episodes. Sebastian Stan did an incredible job making it clear in a subtle way.

I want to mention that famous "Stay there" scene, and how it was visible Bucky was not punching as hard as he can in the fight with John.)

This is the thing about Bucky, he isn't after the kill, he just does his part. He doesn't try to show off his skills or that he is a good guy. He doesn't try to play the victim role, either. In the scene where Zemo fake-activates the Winter Soldier in Madripoor, he just makes a point. He's obviously not even trying hard.

If he wanted those in the club dead, they would be. But his self control was wow. Sebastian acted so well, his exes said everything.

*And to be honest, even when he was TWS, he could have killed everyone, but he didn't. He could have killed all of the Avengers in Civil War is they were his mission, but they weren't. This is how Natasha survived when she met him, too. It depended on what kind of mission he had (if he wasn't allowed to be seen, then the witnesses would die too, but otherwise? He didn't bother).

2. His skills

People tend to forget how smart and good at making strategies Bucky is. He's been fighting (even though he hates fighting and never wanted to be in the army) for years before he was even captured by Hydra. And this is the reason why government still want him, after all. They can use his strategies as a leader (*cough* Thunderbolts *cough*).

In the last episodes of TFATWS, we could see how he outsmarted everyone. Karli was so terrified of him.

3. Karli Morgenthau

And talking about Karli, the phone call was interesting:

She asked him if he's not tired of fighting for the wrong side, and then told him she's fighting for something bigger than herself.

"And with all the bodies you've collected, have you ever been able to say the same?"

The first thing I wanna point out is how everyone talks about the deaths Bucky caused when he was controlled by Hydra, but everyone ignores the fact that all the Avengers killed far more, but since we consider them the good side, we just don't care.

Clint, Tony, Steve, Wanda etc. They all cause(d) far more deaths than "two dozen" (known assassinations - to quote Natasha), and neither was controlled. The double standards are something else, especially for Clint. (One of the reasons why Tony was on the other side in CW was because of his guilt, after all.)

The second point is how Bucky's answer says a lot more than we might realize at first:

"You don't think I ever fought for something bigger than myself? That's all I ever tried to do, and I failed twice."

Even as TWS, Bucky had to be convinced he is on the right side, that what they do is to save the world, to give "the world the freedom it deserves".

Even brainwashed and put to sleep all the time, he had to be lied to. Bucky as TWS was a victim too. He is not a victim only because he didn't have memories or control, but also because they lied to him and used him as a toy. That milk scene is so loud. (And I am gonna talk about it in a different post). He had no rights, no choices. He was used to being tortured.

[And I wish they explored it more. We deserved and deserve a WS film - maybe with him in Romania getting back his memories, writing in his journal etc.]

"You think your cause justifies all this death, but in the end, the nightmares won't go away. You're gonna remember all the ones you killed. Trust me. Don't do this. Don't go down this path."

Despite being on opposite sides, Bucky still said this to Karli, trying to help her, to make her see the big picture, sharing how he felt and feels.

He is on "the right side". He is a hero, and Bucky being thanked by that man for saving everyone's life was touching.

4. Baron Zemo

You can see how smart, strong, and rational Bucky is when he decides to break Zemo out of jail (his plan was amazing too), risking so much (his relationship with Wakanda people and his own freedom) to get his help for the mess. He puts the cause above his own (huge) trauma. And this makes that moment in Madripoor even more disgusting (he is treated as an object, as a toy):

Zemo: Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum. And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.

The way he keeps his composure, reacts and manages the situation... absolutely incredible!

This conversation also says a lot:

Zemo: The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path.

Bucky: Maybe you're wrong, Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.

Zemo: Touché. But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?

Bucky positions himself below Steve, who's considered a good hero, a good person... like no other. But Steve never had to go through what Bucky did: from being kidnapped like that, to being tested on, to falling off the train, to being tortured, and used, and brainwashed for decades, and put to sleep when he was not needed and having n "keepers".

Also, interesting how all Steve wanted was to fight (for a good cause, but still)... and fighting still means violence, meanwhile Bucky never wanted to fight, not even before becoming TWS, in the army (and yet he is still great at fighting. And he is deadly, even when he holds back.). All he wanted was peace.

Despite not getting the "perfect serum", despite being brainwashed, put to sleep, and forced to fight for decades, he is still himself. He never gave in to the dark side for real. He fought in his own way. The first thing he did when he woke up was to choke the Hydra guy with a whole new arm!

Bucky is so underrated: from his intelligence and fighting skills, to how human he is. Being flawed, keeping his sassiness and charm from the 40s, but getting more mature and carrying his past on his shoulders... he's so relatable and real. And every day, he shows Zemo he is wrong.

The show he makes in his final scene with Zemo is absolutely fantastic. He doesn't just prove the point he isn't defined by the serum and Hydra (AND not even by Steve, thanks to Sam. His speech made him realize the important thing about himself: that he decides who he is, not others - even those who know him before becoming TWS- "And this might be a surprise, but it doesn't matter what Steve thought. You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." parallel to "Steve believed in you. He trusted you. He gave you that shield for a reason. That shield, that is… that is everything he stood for. That is his legacy. He gave you that shield, and you threw it away like it was nothing. [...] So maybe he was wrong about you. And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me."), but also that he is superior.

When Zemo tells him that he decided to let him alive (probably so he can kill Karli) and basically calls him a killing machine: "programmed to kill", Bucky plays the role, lets Zemo talk him into killing Karli, and then Bucky watches him waiting for his own death.

[Also, Bucky's line: Imagine my relief is hilarious.]

The acting was incredible: the shock on Zemo's face and the amusement and somehow relief on Bucky's after he pulls the trigger and lets the bullets fall... He proved him he's THE standard of the super soldier. Because despite everything he went through, he is the best.

Zemo telling him to cross his name off felt like a fresh start (+ telling Nakajima the truth).

5. John Walker

John, on the other hand, is lucky Bucky is an understanding person. He gets what is like... the pressure, the environment, the loss, and even tries to help.

Bucky: Don't go down that road. Believe me, it doesn't end well.

John: I'm not like you!

Of course he is not like Bucky, because Bucky has control. He is not killing to get revenge in a cynical way.

"That serum doesn't exactly have a great track record."

John kept judging Bucky every time they spoke, somehow placing himself above this "broken" man.

"This is all really easy for you, isn't it? All that serum runnin' through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there. Do you really want his blood on your hands?"

This is so wrong on every single level, especially because Bucky didn't choose to take the serum, and he always had his friends' back. He's loyal and ready to sacrifice himself.

The "funny" part about this is John ending up taking the last super soldier serum vial. All the judgement, the disgust, the patronizing tone, just to do that. Plus, of course, to kill someone with the shield.

(John proves Zemo's point about super soldiers, and Bucky does the opposite.)

And what is it easy for Bucky anyway?

He's under government conditions (so CACW coded), he has a vibranium arm that I bet the government would try to take after he dies (HOPEFULLY WHEN HE'S 200 YEARS OLD IN HIS BED, as Sebastian wants too) if he isn't in Wakanda, he is haunted by nightmares (which also can mean he is still Hydra's TWS in another universe as we found out from Strange), and he has to learn how to live for real. He's smart, charismatic, has values and principles, and he's incredible.

We need to see his version of TWS going after everyone Hydra helped. TWS is him, a part of him, and doing that on his terms, having control over it would help him heal.

[xoxoavenger]

The Attack

pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

summary: Tommy's known for going out of his way to get to Y/N. What happens when they're both attacked and he's not permitted to see her?

word count: 1311

warnings: canon tyical violence (this is based off a specific episode but it's also been in my drafts as an idea for over two years)

12 Days of Christmas main masterlist

"Can we please just go?" Y/N begged. Her glass of whiskey was long finished, and she knew Tommy couldn't do anything more in the office. After his fight with Polly, she knew he would want to leave anyway. So he nodded, helped her into her coat, and off they went into the rain.

"Just gotta get to the garage," Tommy said over the rain, holding her hand tightly. They made it in no time, walking quickly to the car. She was holding an umbrella over herself, but Tommy was soaked; he always asked her not to hold her own umbrella over him, because then she would get wet and he didn't want that. As they approached the car and Y/N took down her umbrella, a man jumped out, gun in his hand pointed at Tommy's face.

Tommy put his hands up and backed away as the man pressed closer, and Y/N took out her own gun hidden her coat, pointing it at the man and dropping the umbrella. She wasn't shaking; this wasn't the first time she's had to hold a gun against a man. She was married to Tommy Shelby after all. Before she could even fire a warning shot, she was hit over the head from behind, sending her to the ground. She tried to get up as she saw Tommy getting beat up by six men, the sound of bones cracking sickening to her.

"Tommy!" She called out, trying to stand. The pain in her head was excruciating, her vision blurring and turning dark around the edges. Before she could get her gun back up, she was kicked in the head and knocked out, and Tommy was thankful for it because as soon as they had taken him down he was covered in blood. His only thoughts as he practically went limp with pain was of Y/N - he hoped they didn't kick her head in enough to kill her.

~

When Tommy woke up, he felt like he couldn't feel his body. It was all pain, like all his nerve endings had been set on fire. When he tried to open his eyes, he knew they were swollen. His mind went instantly to Y/N - where was she? Was she alive? Or was she dead? Even through his pain, he was able to open his eyes and move to stand except-

He couldn't stand. And not just because of the pain.

"What the fuck," He muttered, looking at the handcuffs that were tying him to the bed. He was just coming to, but he couldn't think of a reason why he would be handcuffed. It's not as if he was going to be arrested. He didn't do anything this time, and even if he did, he wouldn't be arrested; he knew all the officers.

"She's okay." Polly was in the corner, reading a book. Tommy snapped his neck to see her. He was in a hospital room, a small empty one with a small bed and the chair Polly was on. She didn't seem too concerned, which confused him.

"Get me the fuck out of here." He yanked on the chains again. He needed to go see Y/N, to go find her and make sure she was okay and then take care of the fuckers who did this.

"So you can go try and kill people?" She was still looking at the book. His brain was fuzzy, so he didn't know how to get out of this. He wasn't even sure why he was handcuffed.

"I need to go check on her." He said, but the two of them both knew that he was going straight to kill the men that attacked her as soon as he made sure she was okay. "Why was I arrested?"

"You can't go yet." Is all Polly says, nose still in her book. This is when he realized that he wasn't arrested - Polly had kept him here on purpose.

"Let me go." He seethed, anger filling him. How dare she keep him here when his wife was hurt, when he had business to attend to.

"No." The fact that she still hadn't looked at him made him angry.

"Poll," He starts, taking deep breaths to not lose his temper. It's not working very well. "You need to let me out."

"I actually need to keep you in." She fires back. "I am not going to clean up the mess when you try to kill everyone in sight." She turns the page of her book and it makes Tommy lose his mind.

"Why are you keeping her from me?" He yells, pulling against the handcuffs so hard it causes the skin on his wrists to break. He barely feels the pain; he can't even feel his face anymore.

"I'm not keeping her from you." She finally looks up at him, face serious enough to scare the shit out of Tommy. He lets her speak, heart racing fast enough to scare some of his anger away. "I'm keeping you away from her. She still hasn't woke up yet. You can't stomp in there while the physicians are hard at work trying to get her up." She tells him, and suddenly, he has too many emotions. He's guilty, because she wouldn't be in this position if he hadn't put her there. He's angry at Polly for not letting him see her. He's scared that she won't wake back up, that the last time he saw her alive was the image of her head being kicked in.

It's all too much. He can't fit these emotions in his body. His chest is suddenly too tight, his head fuzzy. He needs to get the fuck out of this room.

He doesn't break out of the cuffs, no, that would be far too difficult. Instead, He breaks the wooden bedpost right off the frame, splinters flying, and then the post was falling from between his hands. He was still cuffed, but he had full range of motion now. He turned to Polly, who was staring wide eyed at him.

"Tell me where she is right now."

~

When Y/N opened her eyes, she wished she could go back to sleep. Her head was killing her, and her entire body was sore. She blinked a couple times, trying to make out the unfamiliar room she was in. She had just figured out that she was at the hospital when she heard shouting in the hallway.

"Mr. Shelby, I understand, but it's really much better if you just wait to,"

"Get the fuck out of my way or I will shank you with a piece of this wall that I will pull out with my bare hands." The sound of her husband's deep voice startled her. He sounded so angry, like he was going actually going to kill this man that didn't do anything wrong.

"Mr. Shelby,"

"Tommy?" Y/N croaked out as she sat up, and Tommy was instantly in the room, his bruised face making her startle. "What happened to you face?"

"You're okay!" He disregarded what she said and came up to her, cupping her face and kissing her immediately. She smiled slightly, putting a hand on his own and moving it down to his wrist.

"What the fuck?" Y/N muttered as she pulled away, looking at the metal she had felt on his wrists. He looked as if he had forgotten all about them, wanting to go back to kissing. "What did you do?" She asked, trying to push him away slightly.

"I didn't do anything. My fucking aunt," He sighed, kissing Y/N once more. She didn't understand, but she figured if it had to do with Polly she would find out soon enough. She was just thankful Tommy was okay, that he was here with her.

"I love you." She whispers, and he just nods as he goes in for another kiss. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @jbrownta

[resident-idiot-simp]

Wade and his cancer

Logan had noticed the sickly smell that came from Wade how could he not? Hell Logan would go as far to say it now reminded him of home. He knew the scent was off but he just assumed it had something to do with his mutation.

It was a day like any other where Logan was chilling on the couch and Althea was on her chair. They were watching TV while Al made sardonic comments every few minutes. Logan was surprised Wade wasn't up and awake by now since he usually was. The both of them still got up early because of their time as soldiers.

An hour later Wade shambled out of the bedroom. Logan smelled the pain that wafted from him immediately. He looked over alarmed and saw Wade wincing as he shuffled. Logan was immediately on his feet and at the other man's side.

"Wade what's wrong?" He asked worriedly. Wade just grimaced, "Nothing honey badger." Wade said voice cracking and unconvincing. Logan just stared at him unconcerned and Wade grimaces harder. Althea piped up, "Bad day?" She asked sympatheticly Logan looked between the two confused.

He was missing something that was obvious. Wade made a pained noise of agreement and Logan was completely and utterly lost. He bit back a whine he didn't like that his mate was hurting. Wade just smiled up at him trying to reassure him before his eyes went wide and he stumbled into the bathroom. Logan watched horrified as Wade puked his guts out in the toilet.

Logan moved quickly to his side eyes wide as saucers as he rubbed at the other man's back. Wade just groaned as he flushed the toilet and stumbled to his feet with Logan's help. Wade washed out his mouth as Logan runs a damp cloth over Wade's face.

Eventually Logan and Wade shamble to the couch. When he was finally layed out Wade on top of Logan he finally relaxed slightly melting more into the familiar heat. "What is going on with you you are worrying me Wade." Logan asked. Althea made a questioning noise. "Wade did you not tell him?" She asked.

Logan looked between her and Wade once more, "Tell me what?" He asked beyond lost. Althea tried to look at Wade pointedly but ended up starting at a wall. Wade answered anyway, "Cancer baby girl." Wade says flippantly.

Logan jerks his head down to look at Wade in alarm. "What?!" Logan half barks. Wade manages to somewhat shrug. "I've got like stage 20 cancer." Wade says like it means nothing. "The fuck you mean you have cancer?!" Logan asked distressed. Wade pats at him comfortingly.

"That's why I look like I do I'm just one big cancerous tumor." Wade tells him and Logan hates that things are starting to make more sense. "The healing factor..." Logan trails of as the puzzle comes together.

"Is so fast because of cancer which is also constantly killing me." Wade says half choked like he's holding back tears. Logan hates this he hates this so much. Wade never cries never shows weakness and the fact he is is a testament to how bad the pain is.

"How long have you had cancer?" Logan asks hesitantly. "2016 about a year after I met Vanessa. Passed out on her and got diagnosed, shit was terminal and I didn't have long to live." He muttered into Logan's collarbone. Logan just rubbed at the mans back soothingly as he took it in.

"Left Vanessa to spare her and signed up for an experimental 'treatment' that promised to cure me and make me into a super hero." The air quotes were audible.

"Knew it was bullshit but what the fuck other option did I have? Next thing you know I'm being injected with something to kickstart a mutation with this universe's Logan's DNA." Logan didn't know what to say or how to feel.

"Got tortured for I don't know how long until it activated." Wade finished and Logan had to fight himself not to growl. "They're dead." Logan said more then asked. "Slaughtered them all and blew the place sky high." Wade confirmed.

Logan had to be content with that.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Just A Little Taste

Frank (Adam Barrett) x f!reader

Summary: you’re the only one left, and Frank is more the happy to keep you around. Alternative ending where Frank kills everyone else and doesn’t explode

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, blood kink (he’s a vampire tf did you expect), degradation, he’s mean to her and she likes it, rough sex (he breaks a table), choking, suffocation kink, implied consent (I think? she consents to it later), explicit language (take a shot every time he says fuck), no use of y/n or physical descriptions, blood, violence, it’s a horror movie idk what to tell you. Read at own caution

I call him Frank throughout the fic, it’s just easier for narrative because he was only ever called Adam like once. It’s also implied in the movie he doesn’t go by Adam anymore so.

WC: 4.8k I’m sorry

A/N: DONT YOU DARE LOOK AT ME. I had to I’m sorry okay??? Not only did I want to fuck this prick the whole movie im actually obsessed with Dan Stevens now so there’s that. But I totally thought about fucking this man the whole movie so I wrote it. To the 5 people that will read this you’re welcome (I’ll see you in hell😘)

For reference I based some characterization bits on this fic by @f1nalboys since I think they wrote Frank perfectly! And I think they rubbed off a little on mine lol

What the fuck did you get yourself into?

Your head was throbbing, your racing heart drumming in your ears. You felt like you were spinning. On your hands and knees on the floor, you were covered in so much blood and guts you felt like tearing your skin off. You didn’t even think it was your own blood. They were all dead. 

This wasn’t what you signed up for.

You were crawling, you didn’t know where you were trying to go, it wasn’t like you could outrun her, or him. You looked behind you to find them in their mayhem. Truly Joey and Abigail were trying, you watched them from a corner—bruised and bloody—as they tried to fight him, maybe kill him. Then you would be next for not helping. But it didn’t look like it mattered. Joey wasn’t moving from where she was impaled, blood gushing from her neck. You couldn’t help the tears that fell from your eyes. You choked out a sob as you tried to force yourself up on your feet. But who were you fucking kidding? You were fucked either way. Abigail would catch you and feed off you slowly before ending your torment. Or Frank would. And truly, you almost wanted Abigail to get you instead. 

“Ah. There you are. Thought I forgot about you?” His sinister words filled your ears and another sob ripped from your throat as you pathetically tried to crawl away, your legs too unstable to even support your weight.

“No.. no.. no.” the shaky words slipped from your throat as more tears spilled from your eyes, a feeling of utter terror and dread settling in your stomach. You actually cried when he effortlessly grabbed one of your ankles and dragged you towards him. “Please!”

“Aw, are you crying?” He mocked you, tilting his head at you, tongue swiping over razor sharp teeth. Blood covered his mouth and chin, down his neck and his eyes were sadistic as he looked over your distressed form. He almost looked in thought, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with you yet. 

“Just kill me. There's no one else..” You sobbed, looking to the side to find Abigail’s body completely lifeless, limp, black blood pooling around her. You swallowed, your jaw locking tight as you looked up at him in defeat. You just made peace with the fact that this was it. “You won. Just fucking end it.” 

Frank clicked his tongue, amusement mixing with the malice in his expressions and he shook his head. “I like you, y’know. You have such a dirty fuckin’ mouth for such a pretty face. Thought about how to shut you up all night, and I think I figured it out.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes screwed shut when he reached down to grab you. You fully expected him to sink his fangs into your throat and tear it right out, suck you dry until your heart stopped pumping. But he didn’t. You let out a pathetic sound when he grabbed the back of your hair and forced you up on your feet. He forced your head back, giving you no other option but to look at him. 

Frank knew his heart had stopped beating the second fangs grazed his lips, but right now as he watched your face twist with desperation and anticipation of his next move, your soft lips quivering and your big eyes staring back at him, he swore he felt blood pumping in his veins. This thought of your life being completely in his hands, that ultimately you were the only one left, it gave him an indescribable feeling he craved to explore more. He always did enjoy exerting his power over those around him, but this was so different. He felt it even before he turned. 

Something about you was so intoxicating and alluring to him. The second he met you, he knew he wouldn’t let this be the last time he saw you. As much as that defeated the purpose of the no-name, unknown crew thing he had established. The little looks you shot him throughout the night, like he intrigued you, amused you. He caught each and every one. But it wasn’t until you got all up in his face to curse and shout at him about what had gone down with Abigail that he realized that if he died tonight without getting a taste of you he would be real fucking pissed in hell. 

He didn’t want to kill you. No. He wanted to ruin you. Fuck you into nothing. Fuck you until you were useless, nothing more just an outlet for his pleasure. 

“I don’t want to kill you. I wanna keep you, actually. I wouldn’t waste a pretty lil’ thing like you.” His blood stained lips curled up into a sinister smirk that had your stomach turning in ways that would make any sane human being sick. You kept your mouth shut as he leaned down to find your ear, his grip on your hair tightening. “I can think of a couple things you would be so good for.”

“You're going to hypnotize me? Turn me into your personal fuck puppet?” You scoffed through gritted teeth, the idea making your stomach twist and your jaw lock. He laughed, the sound so somber in your ear it made you swallow. He ultimately shook his head, tisking softly at you.

“Jesus, what kind of a fuckin’ animal do you think I am? You have two options here,” he ran his tongue over his lips, blue eyes sharp on yours as his grip loosened. “You can go. You know where the door is. I’ll even give you a head start. But, if I catch you, I’ll fuck you until you pass out.”

Your mouth fell open, shock filling your eyes at his vulgar words. An unsettling heat settled deep within you as the implications of his words sank in. You should not be considering your options. Get the fuck out. It’s that simple. But your mind lingered. He could almost sense your hesitation. This made him smile.

“Don’t act like you weren’t giving me fuck me eyes all night. Clinging to me like a bitch in heat. I bet you would have let me fuck you on the nearest surface of this place if I had tried.” The words he spat flustered you in deep embarrassment. You hated that he wasn’t wrong. You gravitated towards him, caught glimpses of him when you thought he wasn’t looking, you wrapped up his bleeding leg, you refused to leave his side when everyone else chose to split up. But what truly sunk into him was the fact that you refused to fight him, too. You ran with Joey but you didn’t fight him and you didn’t help them, against your better judgment. And you couldn’t deny that.

“So pick one.” He released your hair, taking a step back. You released the breath you were holding and you stared at him, blinking softly, searching for any deceit in his eyes. Maybe he was toying with you. Giving you a false sense of security. He tilted his head at you, amusement and malicious glee circling in his blue eyes as the smirk never left his expression. 

You often listened to your instincts, to your gut. And your gut was telling you to get the fuck out of this place. You swallowed a sob as you ran down a long hallway, your heart pounding in your chest as your feet took you somewhere. But you hesitated, a deep sense of doubt sinking in your head. Something else joined. A feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend but it was strong, and you didn’t want to go out that door. Not really. 

You stopped running. You didn’t know why you stopped. You looked behind you, almost expecting to find him there. A heavy feeling sat in your chest, an eerie sense of anticipation. You could leave right now, pretend none of this ever happened, only a nightmare to hide in the back of your subconscious. But somehow, you didn’t move. Frank didn’t have to spare you, you knew you wouldn’t be able to fight him off on your own even if you tried—you didn’t want to. He was in complete control and he chose you. You weren’t oblivious. 

The smirk on his face only grew wider when he caught you at the end of the hallway, sinister eyes pinning you in place as he approached you. But you weren’t hypnotized, you just didn’t want to run. 

“Well, aren't you full of surprises?” He grabbed your jaw, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. You didn’t try to fight him.  Your eyes flickered with defiance and curiosity. “Did you even try to run?”

“You were giving me fuck me eyes, too.” You dared to shoot back, and you didn’t miss the way his eyebrows shot up with pleasant surprise. He blew out a chuckle. 

“Yeah, I was.” 

His mouth was on yours as he held your face in place, his tongue slipping into your mouth without shame, razor sharp teeth nicking your lip. You gasped at the stinging sensation, the metallic taste mixing with his mouth. He almost growled at the taste. 

His mouth stayed on yours, not giving you even a second to breathe as he backed you to the nearest wall. You ignored the blood drying on his cool skin and the stickiness of his clothes as you ran your hands up his face until they landed on his disheveled hair. Truth was, the filthiness of it all, how fucked up it all was, it all added to your arousal. You weren’t a saint afterall, and this thrill excited you like nothing ever before. You didn’t know just what he was capable of, that excited you.

“Your stupid heart is beating so fuckin’ fast. Do you want it that bad?” His words were mocking, in a breathy laugh as his lips moved down your jaw. You opened your mouth to reply when he dragged his tongue over your skin to taste the blood staining it. Your eyes rolled softly, your brain shutting off for just a second.

“God, yes.” You breathed out as his hands grabbed at your tits through your shirt. A smirk fell on his lips again as he effortlessly tore the material right in half. You groaned at this, though ultimately your clothes were ruined anyway, but he could have asked, you would have taken it off. “You could’ve taken it off, you know?”

He laughed, shrugging as he dragged his tongue over your collarbone, the ends of his teeth grazing your skin ever so slightly, “I’m not your fuckin’ Prince Charming.”

“Nope, you’re just an asshole.” You bit your lip softly, trying to level your voice as not to sound so out of breath, so desperate, but when he carelessly unzipped your jeans, tugging them down your thighs just enough for him and unceremoniously shoved his hand into your panties, how the fuck could you stay calm?

“Oh, yeah, I’m a fuckin’ asshole,” he lifted his head to watch your mouth fall open and your eyes grow big when his middle finger slipped between your folds and rubbed your wetness on your clit. The sweet moan he pulled from you made him grin with delight. “But I’m a great fuck. Wanna find out sweetheart?”

The only response you gave him was a pathetic moan when he slipped two long fingers into your hole, and he couldn’t help but mock the way your lips parted open in pleasure.

“Oh, I think you do. You’re soaking my fingers and for what? You just wanted this pussy filled and you didn’t care about nothin’ else huh?” He took in the way your eyebrows furrowed and twisted as he slipped his fingers in and out, listened to your soft gasps each time he curled his fingers the right way. And he did it, again, and again. “You should’ve said somethin’. Fuck.. I would’ve.. I would’ve fucked you with my tongue in the bathroom, or bent you over the pool table and filled you with my cock.”

Your walls squeezed his fingers and a sob ripped from your throat at his words. You were begging his name softly, one of your hands flying to wrap around his wrist as he fucked you with his fingers, your release creeping up on you faster than it ever has before.

“Yeah, you’d like that. You just wanted me to take you like a whore, hm?” He slipped and crooked his fingers perfectly, his palm rutting against your clit with each expert flick of his wrist. Your chest was heaving, eyes screwed shut as pathetic sounds fell freely from your lips. But what truly caught his attention was the vein that popped on your neck close to your pulse point, pulsing as blood pumped through your veins. He narrowed his eyes as he focused on it, he could almost hear each thump of your heart, pumping faster the closer you got. It was so human. Something he no longer was. “What's that? You close or somethin’?”

“Uh-huh!” His thumb was on your clit as the sound left your mouth, his fingers pumping and scissoring your cunt wide open until a sob ripped from your throat, your mind going completely blank as your release coated his fingers. You could feel yourself slip down the wall, your legs a shaking mess that couldn’t hold you up any longer, his fingers still deep inside your weeping cunt. But he didn’t stop, he pressed his body against yours, free hand on your hip, forcing your body upright. You sputtered, your nails digging into his wrist as he forced his fingers as far as they could go, drawing out on your pleasure to the point of tears. “Frank, h-hang on.”

The way you sobbed his name made him smirk, his sadistic eyes now on yours. “Aw, is it too much?” He mocked you, his fingers curling just to torture you. You whined, your eyes pleading for mercy. He didn’t have much to give, but he also didn’t have much self control, either. “Ah, you’re right, we can do better than this. Now, should I stuff your dirty mouth, or your soakin’ pussy?”

You pulled your lips into a pout, your eyes big as you stared up at him, as soft gasp pulled from your lips when his fingers left you. You swallowed, the thought of choking on his cock temping your mind, but fuck, you just wanted him to take you, right now.

“I just.. I want you inside me.”

“‘Course you fuckin’ do.” He pulled you off the wall, his grip tight on one arm to keep you standing as he searched around the small walkway. His eyes landed on a table in the corner filled with photo portraits. He was dragging you to it, his free arm knocking over everything on the table before he effortlessly hoisted you onto it. 

He kissed you again as he tore your jeans off your legs all the way, along with your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him to be forgotten. Your shaky hands focused on his clothes next, shoving his jacket off his shoulders and reaching down to unbuckle his belt. His hands joined yours, since you were taking too fucking long fumbling around with his zipper. He shoved his jeans down his thighs just enough, not bothering to take them off all the way. Parting from his lips, you attempted to pull his bloodied shirt over his head, desperately craving to feel his skin. He didn’t deny you, his shirt getting tossed along with his jacket somewhere. 

You didn’t stop him when he pushed you on your back, body flat on the surface and your legs dangled over his torso. Your slick cunt was on full display for him, and he very much appreciated the visual of his doing. He leaned down the slightest bit, forcing your knees to damn near touch your chest as he freed his cock from his boxers. He exhaled sharply, his neck craning to the side as he held back the deep urge to just shove his cock inside you. 

His eyes met yours for a second, a shit eating grin on his face before he looked down to watch as his cock slowly sank into you, disappearing inch by inch within your tight walls. Your jaw fell open, a silent cry leaving you at the sting of his cock. A curse left your lips, eyes screwed shut as you dug your nails into the wooden table beneath you. 

“So fuckin’ tight. Fuck.” He grunted, the sound settling deep within his chest. His pace was grueling from the start, the second he was inside you he was drilling into you. He watched your face with big eyes, lips slightly parted as he reveled in your pain. ”I wanted it so bad. Thought about splitting this pussy wide fuckin’ open all night. Fuck.” 

Sobs spilled from your lips, a string of uh-uh-uh’s filling the empty house. You tried to crawl up the table, give yourself some room from his rough hips at first, but he didn’t particularly appreciate you trying to run away from him. He used his body weight to keep you pinned to the table as he leaned over your body further, his chain now dangling over your face as if to mock you further. 

“Aw, is my cock too much? You can’t take it? You asked for it,” he spat the word accompanied by a particularly sharp thrust that made you cry out. “Please Frank, it hurts.” He mocked your voice, his face above yours. He brought a hand to squeeze your cheeks between his fingers as you nodded tearfully. But you couldn't bring yourself to even try to tell him to stop, let alone try to run away this time, ultimately the pain coursing through you dissolving into blissful pleasure. “Good. I hope it fuckin’ hurts. That’s what a slut like you deserves.” 

With each spiteful word he spat, the intensity of his actions increased. But god did it feel absolutely delicious to be railed this way. You had never felt this way before. So intensely consumed by pleasure and pain that you cried. Tears fell from your eyes just as freely as sobs of pleasure fell from your lips. Frank was more than happy to hear them all. He fucking reveled in it. His lips pulled into a mocking pout at the sight of your tears, but the sight only made his cock twitch. He leaned down to your face, tongue sticking out to lick your tears.

You were shocked, eyes wide and mouth open, but you were more shocked at yourself, at the fact that you liked it. You were covered in blood, not even your blood, he was covered in blood, everyone else was dead and yet here you were, taking his cock like that was your only concern in this world. And the worst part was, you didn’t even mind it all that much. “Ugh, fuck. This is so fucked up.” The words left your lips in a haze, an unconscious thought as your back lifted off the table, a burning heat settling deep within you. You didn’t expect him to hear you. But how could he not? He laughed, his forehead pressed to your wet cheek.

“But you don’t want me to stop, do you?” He pulled back to look at your face, head tilted at you as his hand fell to your neck and his fingers gripped your throat, but he didn’t quite squeeze. He grinned at the way your eyes rolled back as you shook your head as best as his grip allowed you to. “So much for not wanting my hand on your throat.” 

He mocked you once again, laughing at the irony. He remembered your words from much earlier in the night--I swear if you put your hand on my throat next I will cut it off. A twisted smile formed on his lips at the thought, his fingers tightening around your throat. He wondered if you still had your switchblade on you. Would you stab him if he squeezed too hard? He would probably enjoy it if you did. 

You weren’t sure when the air started to leave your lungs, or when the room started to spin. You were dizzy, blood rushing to your face as his fingers dug into your neck. You weren’t sure what you felt more, the bruising around your throat or his cock bruising your cervix. Either way, the feeling was unbearable, overwhelming. You could feel consciousness start to leave you, your chest heaving with panic. Would he keep fucking you even if you passed out? You guessed it wouldn’t matter too much to him if you did. All you were hoping for is that you didn’t pass out before your release. Your pulse slowed, he could see it. It amused him to watch the way your heartbeat slowed, your face untwisting as you slowly slipped. His fingers released your throat, a loud gasp leaving your lips as your head spinned. 

“Fuuck—God—Fu—” breathy incoherent words spilled from your lips, your thoughts blurred as you came. The thought of someone pushing your limits to such extreme, it pumped adrenaline through your veins, rushed dopamine through your fucked up brain. You clung to him, nails dragging down his back as you turned into a shaking, sobbing mess. 

“The fuck was that? Shit, did you just come?” Frank asked, a laugh of disbelief leaving him as he looked down to see his cock glistening with your release as he slipped in and out of you with ease.

“Mhm!” You nodded, only a high pitched noise leaving you, too incoherent and cock-drunk to even form a thought. You expected him to slow down at some point, for his relentless movements to falter, but somehow the thought of you falling apart without even so much as a warning got him going even more.

“Who the fuck said you could do that, hm?” He spat, a grunt leaving him as he rutted his hips against you. The sting of his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your cervix. You whined, attempting to ground yourself with a grip on the table. You could hear the frail wood creak under you. 

“Frank—” You warned him, attempting to sit up to take some weight off the table, but it didn’t make much of a difference, the small table finally breaking under Frank’s harsh movements. You expected to hit your head on the ground, and you braced yourself for it, but you only felt the impact on your back. 

One of Frank’s hands held the back of your head, cradling it almost, the other was braced on the floor as he tried to take as much of the impact as possible. You heard him laugh next to your ear and you groaned, cursing at him under your breath.

“Motherfucker, I’m not a goddamn ragdoll.” You groaned, wincing softly as you lifted your back off the broken wooden chunks beneath you.

“Shit, my bad. I’ve never fucked while being a vampire, alright? I don’t know how this shit works.” He shrugged, unbothered as his cock still sat hot and heavy inside you. He looked at you, eyes playful as his lips curved into a grin. “You okay?”

“Uh yeah, think so.”

“Good. Up you go then.” You didn’t have time to ask him what he meant, before your brain could process it, he was moving you both around. He sat on the back of his knees as he sat you on his lap. Not that you would do much up there, but he figured it’d be less painful than the hard cool floor. 

He wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you against his chest. He grabbed your face with his other hand, pulling you to meet his eager mouth as he snapped up his hips. He swallowed the sound he enticed from your throat as your body bounced in his grip. You threw your arms over his shoulders, holding on to him for dear life as he split you open with his cock—again. You couldn’t believe you already wanted to come again, shameless sobs spilling from your throat as your chest heaved, heart pounding so loud you swore you could hear it. Were vampire pheromones a thing? Not that you could actually think of anything right now, not with how good he was making you feel. 

“Oh, I know what that means. You wanna come again, huh?” He grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers how he liked to do. You were nodding, eyes big and watery with tears. He found it so amusing how easily he could make you go from all talk and attitude to pathetic and fucked out. And deep down, you liked it, too. It was often exhausting to pretend all the time. “Oh, I know, baby. I want you to come all over my cock again.”

And it wasn’t a request, he slipped his hand between your bodies and your head fell on his shoulder, gasping softly when pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. You didn’t have to think too hard, the painful stretch of his cock was enough, but the second he played with your clit you were done for. You were sobbing as your third orgasm hit you, tears spilling from your eyes once again.

“Aw, well aren’t you a good girl? C’mere, look at me,” his hand left your sensitive clit to lace around your hair forcing your head up. His eyes were on yours, tongue licking over his razor sharp teeth as he fucked you through your high, now chasing his own. “You want me to fill you up? That’s what you wanted, right? Just wanted me to take you and use you like some whore? Well you better fuckin’ take it like one.”

His name fell from your lips quietly, almost pleading as he forced your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, your ripped up shirt long forgotten in the mindless dance of clothes. You knew what devious thought was in his head, and like you read his mind, he sunk his teeth into your flesh. A strained whine left your throat, your fingers digging into his back as he savored your blood. He groaned, riveting in the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock as he fed. And it was that sweet taste of your blood that made him fall apart. A deep grunt settled in his chest as he spilled inside you, only releasing your shoulder when he felt his release seep out of your cunt.

A shaky gasp left your lips when he let go, a feeling of relief sitting on your chest when he didn’t suck you dry. You had fully expected him to feed until your body was lifeless. Ultimately he had already fucked whatever this was out of his system. But he didn’t. He gave you no time to comment on this, without a word he kissed you, your blood still coating his mouth. 

“Ugh, Jesus,” you grimaced, blood now coating your lips. He smirked at you, lips parted to flash you his teeth as he took in the way your face twisted in disgust. Still tangled up in each other, still clinging to him on his lap, you watched as swiped his finger over the streak of blood dripping from your shoulder. And your eyes never left him as he savored the taste of you, his chest rising and falling with delight. A strange feeling sank in your chest as your senses returned to you, and you suddenly felt painfully self-aware. “Are you going to finish feeding off me now that you got what you wanted?”

“You truly are a dumb little girl, huh?” He mocked you, laughing softly, a second laugh erupting from his chest at the way you narrowed your eyes at him with a glare. “If I had wanted to kill you I would have. You’re not the only pussy in this city y’know.”

“You are such an asshole.” You rolled your eyes, the intimacy and the slight bit of vulnerability in the moment slipping from you, and you aimed to get up, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed and flustered. But he didn’t allow you to. He kept his arm on your torso and he gripped your face between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“And you’re a fuckin’ brat. Now that we have established that, I think we can come to an understanding. We’re the only ones left for a reason, so let’s take advantage of that, yeah? If you let me, I’ll take care of you.” 

You wouldn’t mind that. You wouldn’t mind that at all. You were an adrenaline junkie afterall, and what could be more adrenaline inducing than fucking a new-turned vampire?

“I think we could figure something out.”

[coraniaid]

Buffy Summers is my favorite character on Buffy and (with a couple of exceptions that I prefer to put down to bad writing) I will always find her sympathetic, but. The only reading of the second half of Season 7 that makes any sense to me at all is that we are supposed to think Buffy is doing a pretty bad job of taking care of the Potentials, and that this is why they all end up choosing to gamble on Faith's leadership instead of hers. Like, yes, obviously Empty Places is a badly written episode and the central conflict isn't motivated very well and Dawn kicking Buffy out of her own house is absurd.

But I mean ... look, let's just pick a few of Buffy's inspiring speeches at random, shall we?

From Showtime, in which Buffy 'inspires' the Potentials by ... uh, fighting a powerful vampire while reminding them all how much stronger than them she is:

"Looks good [for the Turok-Han Buffy's about to fight], doesn't it? [The Potentials] are trapped in here. Terrified [...] and there's nothing they can do but wait. That's all they've been doing for days. Waiting to be picked off. Having nightmares about monsters that can't be killed. But I don't believe in that. I always find a way. I'm the thing that monsters have nightmares about. And right now, you and me are gonna show 'em why."

Or from Potential, the very next episode, when Buffy follows that up by telling the Potentials over and over again how likely they are to die:

"You’re all going to die. But you knew that already because that’s the cool reward for being human. […] Don’t kid yourselves, you guys. This whole thing is all about death. You think you’re different because you might be the next Slayer? Death is what a Slayer breathes, what a Slayer dreams about when she sleeps. Death is what a Slayer lives. […] The odds are against us. Time is against us. And some of us will die in this battle."

And from Get It Done, speaking after they just found out that a young Potential called Chloe killed herself:

"Anyone want to say a few words about Chloe? Let me. Chloe was an idiot. Chloe was stupid. She was weak. And anyone in a rush to be the next dead body I bury, it's easy. Just…think of Chloe, and do what she did. […] I'm the slayer. The one with the power. […] I've been carrying you - all of you - too far, too long. Ride's over."

See also, Buffy's speech in Selfless ("there's just me ... I am the law".) See also her admission in Conversations With Dead People that she thinks she's better than all the guys she's ever dated.

To me, it feels obvious that the intended arc of this season, however imperfectly executed, is that Buffy has a sense of herself as uniquely and especially "the one with the power'", but that she's never had any real leadership or mentorship role before and she doesn't know how to use that power to look after all of the Potentials. That she's afraid she won't be able to protect them all and so doesn't want to make emotional connections with them and tells herself (and them) over and over that some of them are going to die no matter what and they just have to accept that. That she tries to keep them at arm's length and hide how badly their deaths actually do affect her, and that she adopts a protective tough-love approach which backfires spectacularly. And that eventually she realizes this approach isn't working and that she should be trying to share her power with them instead of using it to tell them what to do.

And yet so many people on here seem to think that when the Potentials get (understandably) upset about this -- upset about being called weak and stupid by a woman who barely seems to know their names and can't seem to stop reminding them that she has power and that they don't -- that we're meant to think "oh, they are all so ungrateful and unpleasant and Buffy is a saint for taking such good care of them anyway". That her "arc" this season is that she is perfect and doesn't need to learn anything and doesn't have to change in any way, all while people keep giving her shit for literally no reason.

And I just don't see how that makes sense! I just don't find it an interesting narrative and I don't really see how the show itself supports it. The Buffy Summers who gives the speeches I quoted above wouldn't think of sharing her power with others. That's an idea she only comes to when she realizes that being "the thing that monsters have nightmares about" is no substitute for being a good leader and making real connections with other people.

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Ok I have a request that’s been brewing in my brain, what if Daryl and reader were out on a run and reader finds a mixtape in the car and plays it, and one of the songs is Creep by Radiohead and she starts singing along and he’s never heard her sing before and he’s like totally enamored by it. But when he starts to listen to the lyrics it maybe hits too close to home and he starts to get insecure and think he’s not good enough for her and he’s kinda standoffish for a bit and when he finally tells her what’s wrong she shows him how much he means to her and how special he is to her AHHHH

Ps ur writing is amazing I love it sm 🫶🫶

Creep

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Anxious!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Allusions to sex.

A/N: I cannot tell you how much I LOVE this request, thank you Anon! I'm sorry its taken me a while I have been ill as hell, but I'm hoping to get a few bits uploaded today when my heating kicks in and my fingers start moving again!

-

The dashboard is dusty. The kind of dust that seeps up your nose and makes you smell damp. The car is cramped and the road is bumpy as all hell, but he’s content, almost peaceful as she smiles over at him. He quirks a corner of his mouth upwards in response, knowing he’ll get lost in her smile if he lets himself, and the last thing he wants to do is crash the car when its so full of wares.

It’s not new, not really, their….relationship. It’s the culmination of the electricity that’s been thrumming underneath the surface for a while. So it’s not new, not really, but it is tentative. Everything with Daryl is tentative except killing walkers and hunting; there’s a sick sense of irony that it took the world ending for him to be confident in something. He’s not confident when it comes to her, even now. Even now she’s sitting there holding his hand as he drives back to Alexandria. He could have initiated the hand holding, probably, maybe, she’d like that, but the fear that he’s going to be rejected for trying is always overwhelming.

This run was simple, thank god, neither of them are bruised and battered though Daryl did smack the side of his head rather painfully against a door trying to block a walker. They’re taking three boxes of canned goods, some jumpers for the colder weather and a large handful or seven of treats back to Alexandria. He feels good. Better than he has in a long time; he can almost forget that his shoulder hurts every morning and his brother is dead and the dead are, you know, eating people.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the quirk of his lip that tries to sneak up on him again and failing miserably. She clocks it anyway, picking his hand up to her lips to press a kiss to it before dropping it out of reach in a way that’s so very her. She’s careful with him, never overstepping the boundaries she guesses he has because he hasn’t actually told her, but she offers affection like most people offer hellos. She never pulls away without reassurance.

“Can I see what’s on this?” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts, holding up a crappy mix-tape she’d found atop one of the boxes. She doesn’t even know if it will work, but she’s trying to be appreciative of the small mercies that come with this impossible life and by a stroke of luck they’re driving a car old enough to still have a damn tape slot. She doesn’t expect words to accompany his nod.

And suddenly she’s blaring out the words to a song he vaguely remembers from before, dancing in her seat whilst she lowers her voice for comic effect.

She can sing, he knows she can so she’s doing this for his benefit, to make him laugh. He’s heard her voice in the shower, echoing through their new home, melodic and soft and beautiful. His whole body is warm, bursting at the seams with affection, with the knowledge that she thinks of him even in the tiny moments; that even when she’s doing something she’ll enjoy she’s still trying to entertain him.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Maybe it’s the words that set his brain off. Maybe its that the dust reminds him of a home that had never been a home. He thinks back to all the times he’s watched her from a distance, the times he was too afraid to talk to her but wanted to keep her safe, following her from behind like a fucking stalker. He flinches as the memories of the kids in the playground flood him, the ones who’d called him weird and creepy, the voice of his father saying nobody would ever love him, the southern twang of his brother saying the same, ‘nobody is ever gonna love ya except me, baby brother’. But she does, doesn’t she? Or at least something close, she’d made that clear.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here

Hadn’t she made that clear? Hadn’t she kissed him of her own volition? Had he stayed too close until she had no other choice? Had he made his feelings too obvious? Had he been weird and creepy? Had he forced his affection on her until she’d just given in? Maybe people in his previous life had been right about him.

He pulls through the gates on autopilot, doesn’t even remember who was on guard duty but someone had to have let them in. He unloads the car, mind simultaneously numb and in overdrive, hands the boxes to…someone and slams the door shut hard enough he makes himself flinch.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her soft voice barely registers through the muddled thoughts, she sounds far away and out of reach.

“Nothin’”

He shakes off the warm fingers against his arm, turns to trudge back to their shared house, ignoring the way her footsteps follow in time with his, trying to ignore that he knows she’s got shorter legs than he does and he knows she’s trying to catch up.

“You’re a terrible liar”

“I ain’t”

“Daryl-“

“I can’t do this” he pauses, doesn’t dare to look her in the eye as he scuffs his toe against the asphalt. He hasn’t thought far enough ahead to realise she has to follow him home as she lives there, he just needs to flee “Us” he clarifies as if she hadn’t worked it out already.

“You were fine five minutes ago, I don’t-”

“I ain’t good at this shit. I dun’ want it” he lies through his teeth.  He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

Her footsteps don’t resume as his do, and he takes her not following as acceptance, as proof his brain is right, as confirmation she never wanted him in the first place. Kicking off his boots as he seeks sanctuary inside their home he leaves the front door open for her. He’s never been inconsiderate on purpose.

Body freezing momentarily when he finally hears the front door click shut, he breaths a small sigh of relief that she’s home before guilt gnaws at him. Chewing his fingernails, he half expects her to come to his room, but he hears her upstairs closing the door to hers before the boiler kicks in to tell him she’s taking a shower. His head throbs at him, but the painkillers are in the bathroom upstairs and he avoids taking them unless he really has to.

It’s a testament to how fucking awkward he is that he hides in his basement bedroom until the sun has set, as if he hasn’t wanted a cigarette for the past two hours. Carol won’t let him smoke in the house, a rule implemented months ago, before she’d left for her own smaller house. He’s yet to break it out of respect and if he’s honest, fear. If anyone could sense something wrong from buildings away it would be Carol, and he doesn’t trust his partner housemate not to tell Carol just for a laugh. Daryl both loves and hates how close the two women are, by which he means that it’s lovely until he is the target of their anger or humour and then it is significantly less so.

“Thought you might want some company” her voice startles him out of his thoughts as she sits gracefully next to him on the front step of the porch.

“Don’t need ya pity”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not pitying you” She tries to keep the anger out of her tone. She doesn’t know what’s going on but if she’s confident about one thing its that Daryl wants her and she’s not about to let him sabotage his own happiness by being hard on himself “How’s the head?”

“Sore”

She shakes the small bottle of aspirin at him, pulled from the pocket of her pyjama pants.

“Take a painkiller”

“Better spent on someone else”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mo’ important people ‘ere than me, I ain’t ever been worth nothin’”

“Daryl-“

“Nah, I ain’t, I weren’t worth shit before, didn’t even have a fuckin’ job, ain’t worth shit now”

“Don’t do that, don’t act like you’re not important, just fucking don’t”

There’s such fierce disappointment under the ire in her tone that it stops him for a beat. He raises his gaze from the smooth wooden steps to look at her face, takes her in properly since he’d walked off earlier in the day. He catches the worry in her eyes, the wobble in her bottom lip she’s trying to bite away, chewing nervously.

“Why? I dun’ deserve ya, dun’ deserve any of this” voice cracking, splintering at the edges around the emotions he’s so used to burying. He can’t bury them when she’s looking at him like this.

“I’d die for you and you don’t even think you matter” she laughs sadly, but its wet, squishy, it doesn’t sit right on her face through the water that’s leaving her eyes. He wonders if she’s aware of the magnitude of what she just said, but she isn’t done, doesn’t show a sign that he can interrupt to point it out “What did I do wrong? How have I failed to show you that? I don’t understand”

Daryl has spent his whole life thinking he is in the way, that he’s a burden no matter how much he tries to prove his worth. He’s never been anyone’s first choice, but here she is crying at the thought of losing him, taking his ridiculous issues as a way she’s failed and he can’t have it, he just can’t. He reaches over, linking his fingers with hers, looking down to watch the way her thumb rubs over his fingers.

“Did I push this on ya?”

“Daryl no”

“What if I didn’t give ya a choice?”

“Daryl, look at me” she waits patiently until he turns his head to her “I chose this, I chose you” she keeps her hand in his as she eases up off the porch steps, tugging his hand until he complies, stubbing out his cigarette on the way up “Come inside”

She looks the door behind them, dims the lights before letting her hand drop and standing facing him in the middle of the room. He stands stock still, lost and confused as she strips her clothes off, purposeful but not rushed. He feels the heat that floods his cheeks.

Finally, when she’s completely naked she locks her eyes on his

“This scar, the one on my side? When I was seven I fell out of a tree, had a stick go right through, it was gross. This one on my shoulder? Argued back once with the wrong man, put me through a door. This one? See it? Put my arm through a window three sheets to the wind on bad tequila, think I wanted to end it all”

He swallows hard, never having had the stories behind the scars he’s seen. They’ve been intimate, a handful of times since this thing started, but she’s hidden almost as much as he has so this bravery is new. Astonishing.

“Do you see me, Daryl?”

“Yea-“ the crackle in his own voice cuts him off.

“Look at me and tell me I don’t look like I have a choice right now. Tell me you made me do this”

“I can’t”

He doesn’t realise he’s stopped closer until her fingers are toying with the collar of his button down.

“Please take it off”

He wants to protest, shifting on his feet in discomfort but the look on her face is so fucking soft, so open and vulnerable as she stands bare in front of him and he tries to keep his eyes on her face. He’d never deny her anything, so he undoes the buttons with shaking fingers. Hers follow, easing the shirt off his shoulders.

He shudders as she traces her fingers over the scars that litter his torso, reaching forward to place his hands around her waist, grounding and solid. Her skin is warm under his touch.

“I wish you could see yourself how I do”

“What d’ya see?” He whispers, kneading the flesh under his palms absentmindedly. He’ll deny himself the pleasure of his base urges as he’s done throughout the years, but even he’s not strong enough not to trail his hands up and down her skin, knuckles grazing the underside of her breasts with each upward stroke.

“Strong, kind, decent. You’re beautiful, Daryl Dixon”

He sucks in a sharp breath as she continues.

“Blue eyes, the way they look at me" she didn't need to look up to his gaze to know it was there, but she does anyway, sees the admiration, the pleading that's always behind his eyes "Look at your hands on me” she lays her hands over his, marvels at how much space they take up on her ribcage “Big, warm hands, safest hands I’ve ever known”

He clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head in disagreement, opening them again when he feels her palm against the stubble on his cheek.

“They’re safe, Daryl, I don’t know what’s happening in here right now” she taps his forehead with a finger “But I see you. Let me love you”

“Ya love me?”

“Yes” makes sure she looks at him when she says it, simply and firmly, no room for argument “Eyes wide open, knowing who you are, knowing what you’ve done, seeing you. Yes. I love you. Let me show you”

[mintharabaenrelore]

Minthara's Parents

"I'm sure my mother has missed me- she likes competition."-Minthara

I've been working on this post awhile and I'm so excited to share it with you. I referenced @lunastrophe's excellent post on the topic for several details, and R.A. Salvatore's "Homeland" played a crucial role.

*I will make an individual post on Minthara's relationship to her mother later on, particularly the psychology of it, as it is fascinating and utterly tragic.

Minthara is- or was- unusually close to her mother, who taught her how to 'survive the perils of society', but she says there was 'no love to be found.' Minthara's mother saved her daughter's life by shielding her with her own body when Minthara was an infant, and yet she later tried to kill her. Minthara intends to kill her- "[...] I only regret that I left before enjoying a matricide. That would be a memory to cherish."- but says it is 'returning the favor.'

What do we know?

House Devir fell from Lolth's favor in 1297 DR, when they were destroyed by House Do'Urden, due to Viconia's actions. Minthara describes herself as having been young and impressionable at this time, so she must have been in the early decades of her life. Therefore, she was likely born around 1270-1290 DR, leaving her approximately 222 years old in 1492 DR, the year Baldur's Gate III is set in.

Minthara is a Baenre. Her mother is confirmed to be Baenre, as in the epilogue, if you romance Minthara (I highly recommend it) she says her name is her mother's.

When Minthara is asked if her mother is still alive, she replies, "I expect so. If the world were to end, I think my mother would survive to rule over the ruins." At the epilogue party, she tells Origin Karlach, "I have a war of my own to fight, against my mother and her people [...]" which both confirms that her mother is alive and suggests that she is in a position of great power.

Minthara's mother is competitive (Minthara says this herself), resilient, and ambitious (Minthara says her mother likes Neverwinter because it is "ripe for conquering"), much like her daughter.

Minthara and her mother were unusually close- she held her as a child, taught her to "talk, walk, and then kill" and how to "survive the perils of society", gave her a torture rack for her 13th birthday, and they appear to have conversed frequently.

The fact that Minthara has committed avunculicide (the killing of one's uncle) confirms one of her parents had a brother. She also 'picked off' her 'siblings one by one', and Orin claims Minthara murdered her sister in the cradle to secure her inheritance.The first part of her name, "Min", means lesser/second, suggesting she is a 2nd child.

I believe Minthara's father is alive for the following reasons:

1. During the dryad love test, she lists her "-icides", (androcide, senicide and avunculicide). She does not mention patricide. She tells Wyll that patricide is the first step to greatness but she does not say she has done so herself.

2. When Minthara is describing how she and Orin are similar in some ways, she says that they both have "parents" who protect them with one hand and torment them with the other, rather than "mothers".

3. Minthara says (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vYBaYJgz_c, at 43:50) "I'll spot my father too, with any luck" at some point; @mogruith's research suggests that this line was mistakenly given to Minthara when it should have gone to Wyll, so it is not solid evidence.

But Minthara never mentions him- not even once.

So, who is Minthara's mother? *I don't think it's possible to figure out who her father is with the information I have

It cannot be Yvonnel or Triel Baenre, who are dead. Liriel Baenre is out of the question. Noori Baenre, I believe, is too young.

Yovnnel Baenre had 15 daughters, each a high priestess, acording to R.A. Salvatore's "Homeland".  The majority were alive, it seemed, around 1297 DR. The only two remaining in 1480 DR and thus during Baldur's Gate III were Quenthel and Sos'Umtpu. So could it be one of them?

Quenthel: No.

The firstborn of Quenthel Baenre is Myrineyl Baenre. In 1480 DR, 12 years prior to the events of Baldur's Gate III, she is in her last year at Arach-Tinilith. Baldur's Gate takes place in 1492 DR. It is obvious that Minthara is older than her, so she can't be Quenthel's daughter.

Sos'Umptu: Probably not, unfortunately. (I adore Sos'Umptu.)

Sos'Umptu, the keeper of the Baenre chapel, has been described as 'one of the least ambitious drow females her mother had ever known.' Minthara has also mentioned her mother having visited surface cities before, while Sos'Umptu hardly leaves the chapel if she can help it. These facts contrast with Minthara's portrayal of her mother as power-hungry and world-wise. Plus, I have never seen a mention of Sos'Umptu having had children.

@lunastrophe says in her post, "It seems that daughters of House Baenre – at least the eldest and the most important ones – were not allowed to have their own children while the matron mother of their house was still alive (from Siege of Darkness). Triel was free to have children only after she ascended to the position of matron mother, and the same went for Quenthel."

This all heavily suggests it is not Sos'Umptu- but it's not out of the question.

Could it perhaps be Merith Baenre, the second-most-powerful priestess of her House as of 1361 DR, considered for the role of the next Mistress of Arach-Tinilith? Perhaps- but Minthara has never implied that her mother is adopted rather than a genetic Baenre, and Merith used to be the daughter of a street sweeper before her clerical powers caught Yvonnel Baenre's eye and caused her to adopt her as a daughter.

So, who could it be?

I am inclined to think...

Zal'Therra Baenre: Zal'Therra Baenre- a cousin of Triel, and commander of the rearguard of the Army of the Black Spider in 1372 DR. The most promising of Triel's cousins, she seems to fit Minthara's implications that her mother is ambitious, brutal, and powerful, as the highest ranking House Baenre member of the army.

Not only is the description right, she is similar to Minthara as a warrior, the leader of an army. Even the second half of her name, 'Therra', is similar to Minthara's 'Thara'. Plus, everything about her is so vague that it's plausible she had children aside from Minthara- the 'siblings' she mentioned.

I have yet to read "Condemnation", though, so correct me if I'm wrong about anything.

Final notes: if Zal'Therra Baenre is a cousin of Triel, that would make Sos'Umptu, Quenthel, Jarlaxle and others Minthara's aunts and uncles.

[loves-alibi]

john price x reader

summary: you ask John to do the last thing he’d ever want to do

tw: mention of dying in the military

*****

John Price who’s following the nasty footsteps of his family– a long line of men killed in the army, by their blind loyalty to the crown. John Price won't give up his job. John who knows that he’s not breaking the cycle– the curse. He won't suddenly be the first of many John Prices (because, of course they share a name) to see his fifties.

The same John Price who marries you. A non-military sweetheart. At first he thought you found it charming, brave of him to put his life down for the crown and for the world. You let him put a ring on your finger. You let his crew come to your intimate wedding (so intimate that your extended families aren’t invited). You let him disappear from your home for weeks on end, no contact, and welcome him back like it’s perfectly normal.

Then why are you so upset? Why are you standing before John on the morning of his deployment, tears in your eyes begging him, it’s time to retire.

He doesn't get it because it's all he's ever known. All the Prices have been cursed to ever know. You beg him to retire but you don't understand that he can't. That every fiber of his being will cease to exist if there isn't gunfire whizzing by his ear and someone calling him Captain. That John Price is fated to the same end that his father and his father before him and- hell -probably his father before him met. The Prices are simply born to serve.

He tries to help you understand. He gives you his mum's phone number, tells you to call her when you get lonely or worried on deployment. Call your mother? The woman widowed by war?

John cringes. The sun is peeking over the horizon. He needs to go and he tells you that. You crumble. Your hands tremble as they hold onto his chest, padded with layers of clothing and jackets. It's winter, when deployments are always the worst. It's only winter in half the planet, yet somehow John always ends up in the cold.

His thoughts pull him away from you, your heat, from the damp warmth of your breath to the molten tears streaking your face.

Please, John, you said, for me.

Give it up, for me.

Give up, for me.

Give up.

He leaves you for base. You whose picture John looks at a little more than usual during this deployment, and Simon Riley, who notices.

Simon Riley who sits next to John during his night watch. He pulls two cigarettes from his pocket and hands one to John, lighting it without a word. They’re in Siberia, of course. John’s been crying, but the bitter cold dries his tears before they can leave his eyes.

"Pretty bird," Simon says, gesturing his hand to the picture in John's hand. John's thumb brushes over the curve of your cheek. "Lovely bird."

John's fingers twitch, ready to refold the picture. Simon notices and places a calm hand on John's wrist.

"She's making me retire," John blurts.

"That true?" Simon muses, taking a drag like he knows it’s not. Frankly, he does know. John’s his longest friend, and Simon can read him like a book. "I didn't know that was possible, giving you orders.”

“Neither did I.”

Simon puts a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you head in? I’ll take watch.”

John goes inside wordlessly. He heads to the bathroom and in the mirror he sees the face of his father. He’s always looked scarily like his old man, down to their idiotic facial hair. John grew it out like him in his twenties, when he was finally able to grow more than pubescent scrap. Now, with a fuller beard and duller eyes, he’s more similar to his father than young John ever thought possible. His father— a man who never had the privilege of going gray. Sure, he died a few years older than John is now, but he was never exactly old. Dead at 42. John's got... 5 years left by that count. 5 more years fighting, five more years with you.

John shaves it off. He leaves his stache, but that’s about it. He doesn’t want to see the old John Price, put six feet under before his boy— his namesake —graduated primary school. His hand shakes while he shaves. He should stop. The knife he’s elected to use is too sharp to risk a case of unsteady hands, but John needs it off. And off it goes. The skin beneath the beard is paler than the rest of his face. It’d take much longer for that to go away.

Someone pounds on the door of the bathroom. “Captain,” Johnny, “I know you’re takin’ a shite, but could you hurry up?”

John chuckles softly, “Fuck off, MacTavish.”

John shuts the toilet lid with his boot and takes a seat on it. He shoves a hand in the chest pocket of his coat, to the pen with a piece of paper stuck in the clip. John carefully unfolds the paper.

Armed Forces Pension Application Form.

John clicks the pen and gets to work.

[lnfours]

Helloooo prompt (maybe reverse) "i pictured you with other girls in love... then threw up on the street." With Lando x reader (she is a legal expert for McLaren) having a fight because he underestimate her job. So during a social event, after seeing her smiling and talking with Charles about her work activities, he gets jealous and afraid of losing her.

god anon, thanks for killing me! tom’s-gf has been found dead!!

this also got so long omg i’m sorry

10k celebration

lando felt sick. physically ill, almost like he was going to throw up.

“you okay, mate?” oscar asked his teammate and friend, worry etching his face. lando was unaware of his paleness, his eyes visibly sad as he looked over towards where you were standing with charles.

he had his arm wrapped around your waist, head leaning down towards your face so he could hear what you were talking to him about. you had a bright smile on your face and he could tell you said something funny with the way his friend’s eyes squeezed shut, both of your giggles almost loud enough to be heard over the noise.

“lando?”

his attention flipped back to the aussie next to him, shaking his head and furrowing his eyebrows as he desperately tried to fight off the nauseating thoughts of you and his friend that snuck into his head. anxiety was a fucking bitch.

“yeah, i’m good. why?”

“you look pale,” oscar stated, “and you keep looking at y/n and charles with this weird look in your eyes, almost like you’re sad.”

lando shook his head, swallowing the sip of his drink, “nah, i’m good, mate,”

oscar quirked an eyebrow, “did something happen between the two of you?”

lando immediately was transported back to the hotel mentally, where a little over an hour ago the two of you had it out. he was frustrated, and he took it out on you, which he shouldn’t have done. and one thing led to another…

“seriously, lando, i don’t fucking tell you how to drive the car! why’re you trying to tell me how to do my job?!”

“i’m just saying that maybe you should try getting behind the wheel of a literal rocket before you complain about your job to me.”

he didn’t mean to sound like he was underestimating you or your job, he knew you worked hard for the company. he knew how many late nights you had pulled at the office to get extra work done and to stay ahead of things. he wasn’t entirely sure why he said what he said, but now he was really wishing time travel was real so he could go back and undo it.

lando’s silence was an answer, “mate, just go talk to her. i’m sure she’s over it by now, whatever it is. you know her, she doesn’t stay angry for long.”

oscar was right. you got over things quickly, only really needing twenty minutes before you moved onto the next thing. but right now, the anxiety was eating at him as he watched charles lean in closer to you for a photo. he just had this overwhelming feeling that you hated him and that this was it. it was the end of the road for the two of you.

oscar grabbed the glass from his teammate before shoving him forward, “my god, go!”

lando compiled, shoving his hands in his pockets as he concentrated on not letting his legs give out as he walked towards you two. your eyes landed on the worried looking brit, your eyebrows furrowing. your confused look caused charles to turn around.

“hey, mate,” charles said, “you’ve gotta hear about this story y/n just told me-“

“actually,” lando cleared his throat, “i was wondering if i could borrow her. i’ve got to talk to her,”

he sucked in a nervous breath as you responded, “yeah,” you grabbed your purse off of the bar behind you, looking over at the man next to you, “i’ll be right back.”

you led lando through the groups of people, the fresh air filling lando’s lungs as he desperately tried to feel better. you stood in front of him, searching his eyes.

“you look pale,” you frowned, placing the back of your hand on his forehead, “you feeling okay?”

his heart was going a mile a minute, his hand grabbing yours. your eyes met his in silent question, “i’m sorry.”

your expression softened, “lando-“

“no,” he said softly, “i’m sorry. i know how hard you work, and i had no right to yell at you or tell you that your job isn’t hard. i could never do the things that you do. you’re absolutely incredible and i’m sorry,”

you let him ramble on, waiting for the right time to speak, “you never complain and it was dick move for me to yell, just please…”

he felt like he couldn’t breathe. you frowned, knowing what was going through his mind all too well. a small tear dropped from his eyelashes and your heart shattered in your chest, “lando,”

he licked his lips, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. his shoulders shook and you reached out to him as he let out a quiet sob. you wiped the tears away from his cheeks before wrapping your arms around his neck. he breathed in the smell of your shampoo, immediately clinging to you as he buried his head into your hair.

you rubbed his back, “it’s okay. i promise, it’s okay,”

he sniffled softly, “you’re just the best thing to ever happen to me, and i don’t want to lose you over a stupid argument. i’m sorry. so so sorry,”

you pulled away, meeting his glossy eyes and giving him a soft smile as you wiped away the fallen tears, “it’s gonna take a lot more than a silly argument to push me away.”

he let out a soft chuckle and you smiled, “there’s that smile.”

he rolled his eyes playfully, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, mumbling a soft, “shut up,”

you reached up and planted a kiss on his lips. his mumbling against yours when he pulled away to breathe, “i love you.”

“i love you more, handsome.”

[thenationofzaun]

A Dark Vi in Season 2:

I'm hoping for a darker take on Vi in season 2. Imagine if Vi takes up a bitter attitude towards Jinx that's similar to Ekko's before the bridge fight - "Powder's gone, all that's left is Jinx." I say before the bridge fight because I think Ekko had a moment of growth there in his view of Jinx, where he was forced to confront the truth that Powder and Jinx are the same person, no matter how much he tries to divorce them to make it easier to kill Jinx.

Back to Vi, it's possible that in response to Jinx's rebuff of her, she bitterly disowns Jinx right back. Not immediately, no. I think Vi in the immediate aftermath of the finale would still be self-blaming, devastated, and confused. But after a while, when Jinx continues to demonstrate her disinterest in reconciling with Vi and her zeal in warring with Piltover of her own accord, even in the absence of Silco, Vi's view of her sister would have to change. I could see anger and resentment creeping in after a while. Vi would have to accept that her sister willingly rebuffed her and chose Silco, willingly ditched Vander's side. Vi might give in to that petty, indignant anger of a child upset with her sibling - "she left me, she is not my sister anymore!"

I can imagine her taking up an attitude like "I don't have a sister. My sister died a long time ago." Kind of like Ekko including Powder on his "wall of the dead" mural. It'd be growth for Vi, just not a positive one. She'd finally accept that there's no "bringing the old Powder back", but she'd pivot all the way to the other end of the spectrum with "you know what, fuck Jinx, the Powder I loved is dead and gone." This would be doubly sad and ironic considering her words in episode 9 - "Are we still sisters?" "Nothing is ever going to change that."

Imagine her telling Ekko "you were right" as she finally agrees with what he said to her in episode 7, but Ekko just has mixed feelings because he himself has since realized he was wrong in saying that. The Powder they loved is not dead, has never been dead. She's still here. She just made choices they disagreed with. She chose to join their enemy. And that's a much harder truth to live with than simply insisting she died and calling it a day.

Vi's view of her sister perfectly parallels her view of the undercity. In season 1 it was horror to find that the old version, the one under Vander, has changed so much in the time she was locked up. It was a refusal to accept this change, an insistence that the old home/sister can still be brought back, all she had to do was remove Silco's rule/influence and she'd restore her home/sister to the way it used to be.

They could continue this parallel in season 2. Vi could give in to anger and disown them both. Begin grieving Vander's undercity and Powder in tandem, while scorning Silco's Zaun and Jinx. She could fall out with Ekko due to this. Where he still wants to live in and help heal the undercity, Vi wants to leave it and turn against it. Vi could blame the undercity for allowing Silco's takeover and "not lifting a finger to stop him". She could take on a harsh view of her people, the Lanes in particular - "They betrayed Vander, they allowed the rise of Chembarons, did nothing to avenge my family in my absence. They're weak." She'd butt heads with Ekko over this, straining their relationship.

It would push her further into the arms of Caitlyn (and Piltover). She'd bury her pain in rage against all of "Silco's ilk". She'd want to wipe out all his loyalists and the Chembarons, since she couldn't fulfill her vengeance on him specifically. She'd think the best way to accomplish this goal is through tougher enforcement and punitive measures from the enforcers/Council. Basically the same thing she did in episode 8 but on steroids, eventually leading to her joining the enforcers. Imagine Ekko's reaction. He has spent the last 7-8 years feeling betrayed by Jinx for joining his enemy. Now Vi returns to him from the dead, and even she betrays him by joining another of his enemies? While the sisters are so preoccupied with feeling abandoned by each other, Ekko feels abandoned by them both. The game has Ekko admonishing Vi as a traitor so I'm excited to see it in the show.

But of course, Vi's elaborate talk of "Powder is dead and only Jinx remains" would just be her way of coping and rationalizing her sister's betrayal. Just like Ekko, it'd be her way of convincing herself she can fight and kill Jinx. But when it comes down to it, she wouldn't actually want Jinx dead. The conflict this would cause with Caitlyn and Piltover... imagine Vi is fighting Jinx and at the last moment, she can't bring herself to deliver the final blow. Jinx gets away and now Vi is disgraced by topsiders, who question her loyalty to them. "Of course we shouldn't have trusted a trencher on the force." Now she is rejected by both cities. Hated by Piltover for bigoted reasons and for her relation to Jinx, hated by Zaunites for being a class traitor.

She'd be a complete outcast, and from here, there could be a lot of character growth. Sometimes you need to hit rock bottom before finding your way back up. Maybe she could dig into Vander's past and find out about his falling out with Silco. Uncovering the past of her beloved mentor whom she idolized, she'd begin to see him for the flawed man he actually was. Realize that he'd have never wanted her to give in to rage. Never wanted her to help bring Piltover's wrath down on Zaun. She'd begin to understand not just Vander, but Silco too, and Jinx's love for him. Not be happy with it of course, just understanding. That's what I'm hoping for in the end - not a reconciliation between the sisters, just a bittersweet understanding. Accepting of each others' choices even if they disagree with them. Anyway, I'm interested to see what they do with Vi's character in Season 2, since I found her to be underwritten in Season 1.

TLDR: A darker, angrier take on Vi in Season 2 could lead to some very interesting places.

[constantfragmentation]

Arcane S2 Thoughts

I've had a week to digest this season and well, I guess I have the unpopular opinion of being very disappointed. After the initial flash of gorgeous animation and some ooo's and awe's.... I was left with a bitter aftertaste. I can rewatch S1 loads of time. I don't think I can watch S2 again.

I'm happy for the fans that loved it and got what they wanted or the shippers that got what they wanted. I'm happy for you. Do your thing.

Me? Not so much. Even as a Silco fan (and I admit to squeeing for any footage of him at first), I'm not pleased. Yeah, my young Silco is a nerd, man-bun hottie, but that's where it ended for me. His entire characterization was nothing like the character I fell head over heels for in S1.

Vander's Flashback: I honestly don't find Felicia's inclusion necessary at all. In fact, I think it waters down everything between Silco and Vander. Their knowing her and the kids creates more questions, plotholes, and problems than it supposedly solves.

Why is Vander only in those memories with the kids? It's before the fallout with Silco. Why don't the kids know or remember nice Silco? Why do they only fear him (obv that's from Vander and Benzo, yes?)?

Why doesn't Silco seem to know Powder at Vander's dead body? Why would he kill Felicia's kids? None of it makes any fucking sense if he cared about Felicia. He hates Vander so much, he hates the kids too because he adopted them?

How the hell does S2 Young Silco turn into S1 Silco? Riot really messed this one up. Vander's attempted murder didn't change his entire personality.

It was a rebellion battle. People were going to get hurt and killed. They had to know this. So, whether Silco accidentally killed Felicia (as some fans are debating) or she died, is so damn dumb for Vander to solely blame Silco. Takes the kids, becomes a pacifist FIRST and then decides to (shave and grow younger) kill his brother for the greater good. Doesn't make one lick of sense narratively.

The narrative, characterization and animation inconsistencies don't help from S1 either. The drowning scene doesn't fit the S2 explanation. They're too young. Vander had a beard and appears much older on the bridge. Hell, S2 Young!Silco looks older than S1 Young!Silco. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy. If people want to kiss Riot's ass, fine, but there was too much that was straight up lazy writing.

Silco's death is just glossed over considering how important he is. Silco did what Vander couldn't. Even without Shimmer, the Underground was thriving. Cait's mother's death/burial/statue gets more screen time and Silco gets dumped in the river. No one seems to question his death or what happened? Yeah, ok.

I'll use this moment to complain about the excessive music video montages this season too. I watched S1 again and the writing and use of music worked in unison and enhanced scenes. S2 felt like scenes in between music videos and it was irritating.

There was so much screentime wasted that could have been good dialogue heavy scenes that S1 was great at. Instead, time wasted on poorly executed plotlines that needed way more time to flesh out (Mel, Ekko and Viktor) and we have slowmo music videos and MCU fight scenes. Hermie's guitar song and Mission Impossible jokster crap was laughable and not in a good way.

Riot tried to pack too much into one season, and it was a mess. This season felt like watching a Marvel movie. Cool action sequences with little to no substance. All the nuance and grit from last season were gone in favor of the 'good vs. bad' trope. All the political-societal issues in S1 were abandoned that were far more fascinating to explore.

Mel has superpowers now? It feels all out of place. Her, Ambessa, and the Black Rose plot have zero time to make it interesting and plausible. She was introduced as this master manipulator/politician and her sage persona feels so forced.

Jesus Demigod Viktor was too much. I was excited for the Machine Herald and the psychedelic Arcane magical multiverse took me out. Making him to be the big baddie and timeloop it around to Jayce felt like a big cop out. Viktor deserved better. Hell, Jayce deserved better.

So much was sacrificed to make the whole Arcane magic THE point of the series when it was one of the least interesting aspects of the show. Hextech for weapons and the continuing problems between Piltover and Zaun was RIPE for storytelling. It seems each act needed several episodes to cover.

Ekko sure as fuck deserved better than that half assed time warp with Hermie. The AU really bothered me. Everything felt wrong. EVERYTHING. Nothing was explained well at all. It felt like complete fan service at the expense of the characters. Before people rip me saying "well duh! It was an AU!". You don't assassinate characters and plot to have a happy ending that insults your viewers.

They turned Zaun (its own cool character) into the bargain basement of Piltover. How is it sunny and pretty? Really? Mirror tricks? Everyone just forgave Piltover after years of oppression?

You're telling me Vi's death saved humanity? Fuck that shit right now. Piltover just stopped because a kid died? Suddenly everything became better? What happened to Jayce? Viktor? Hell, Hermie after decades didn't give two shits about Zaun, so what changed with the Council? Where's Singed? I don't buy it.

I don't buy Jinx/Powder being super normal smart girl. I LOVE JInx, but I believe she had mental issues prior breaking into Jayce's apartment. I don't think Vi's death made that go away (as I don't believe Silco's death did either). As someone who battles with mental health, this is insulting to me as a viewer.

I hated AU Silco. There. I said it. He just forgave Vander? Really? Bullshit. The reason Vander tried to kill him is stupid. A simple letter changed Silco? That fluffy-haired softy is not Silco. I can't imagine that Silco being the one who fought a rebellion. He probably would not have become a mob boss peddling drugs but this AU softboi dad feels so wrong. I never would have stanned AU Silco. Not in a million years.

S1 Silco's traits didn't magically appear because Vander betrayed him. The young S1 Silco had to be similar in many ways to older S1 Silco. Drive, ambition, ruthlessness, willing to die for a cause. I don't see Felicia's death changing that. I certainly don't see Vi's death changing that.

If Vander needed to kill Silco to stop the violence, etc, it's because he saw Silco as a threat to him or society as a whole. S1 Vander is known as The Hound. So, he seems to be violent as well. He takes credit for building the Underground when Felicia credits both 'bozos' for it. So Vander being upset she died and blaming Silco to the point of murder is a slap in the face to fans' intelligence.

I do hate that by Vi's death, everything is magically better. I can't express how much I hate that. AU Powder was irritating and was nothing like my Jinx that I love. Again so much wasted time that could have been better spent on good character driven scenes that actually advance the plot.

Pointless characters. Introduce Isha (who I adored). Make her seem important to Jinx. Kill her and never mention her again. So what was the point of her inclusion this season? Just to make Jinx suicidal? I hated that also. Again WASTED SCREENTIME.

Oh, and Caitvi was a disgrace. I think shippers deserved better here, too. Caitlyn goes crazy dictator because of guilt over her mom. Granted, Caitvi only knew each other for a week-ish? Not a lot of time to make their relationship serious past an infatuation. Cait turns from all her good points last season to Ambessa's padawan.

Don't get me started on that side piece Maddie. Really? Cait you were that hard up? And that long awaited sex scene was a big eye roll. Vi goes to her sister, and shit goes to hell, and a few minutes later, she's fucking Cait in the same cell. Vi was reduced to shit this season.

I mean, these characters just got shafted in every way for a high speed train wreck ending that we've seen a million times in Disneyfied stories. Action sequences were more important than actual character development and plot.

You can't make me believe that one speech from Jayce 'seeing a possible future' suddenly got Zaun to work with and dress up as Piltover soldiers? Really?

I had high hopes for Sevika, and the girl got shit nothing to do except in two episodes. Her seat on the Council feels like a last-minute decision and not worthy enough to expand on.

What made S1 so great was the class divide between Zaun and Piltover and how it affected the characters. S2 decided to scrap that and go with the easy good vs evil trope instead. Even the parallels didn't have the same hit as last season.

I did like Jinx talking to her 'ghost' Silco in the jail cell. He was calming to her in contrast to Milo/Claggor except the implication that she should die (that's what I got out of that).

We didn't even get much from Singed. Yeah, he got his daughter back (in some form) but his story was so blah. We didn't get nearly enough of him and Warwick and what made Warwick.

I guessed a few years ago it was going to be Vander but I didn't like how it was handled.

Too many plotlines all rushed together without getting any decent screentime and explanations that don't confuse or insult viewers intelligence. OR you have to be a LOL fan/player to understand. I never played LOL before S1 and wasn't confused as to the main plot.

I loved all the characters in S1 and felt they were pretty much watered down or assassinated in S2 for an apocalyptical Demigod villain vs humanity battle done to death finale.

The Zaun/Piltover political-societal problems, parallels, corruption, science going wrong, pathway to hell paved with good intentions themes from S1 was so much better in every single aspect.

I'm still a fan of S1 and the characters and frankly, I'm going to ignore 95% of S2.

[eliza-and-her-monsters]

begging anyone for Vi x reader x Ellie

ANYTHING.

PUH LUH EASE

WUH LUH WUH

i’ve got you bestie you just might wanna have that therapist on speed dial, okay? soz… 🫣

death doesn’t discriminate

Vi x reader x Ellie

Summary: you were never jackson’s best fighter, you never had to be. you were of course taught the basics of self defense, and if you ever were being attacked and it was between you or them it had to be you… every single time. you just never expected to ever have to put those skills to use… unfortunately though whenever patrol goes awry and you encountered a group of bandits you had to, making your very first kill. obviously after the event you’re left traumatized, and its up to your girlfriends to pull you from the aftermath.

Contains/TW: takes place in the tlou-verse with arcane crossover characters because obviously, innocent and super sheltered reader, i’ve seen the discourse but i AM making it to where ellie CAN pick the reader up (because fuck you that’s why! 💜), told in 1st person, polyamory, set in jackson post-joel death HOWEVER obviously ellie didn’t decide to hunt down ms. girl again. mentions of murder, blood, and just gore in general and HEAVY implications of suicidal ideation. ((this is not meant to romanticize suicide in any way, i’m writing from my own personal experiences. if you or someone you know is struggling please get help. you are loved 💜)) Heavily based off of the song listed below including its lyrics that are obviously not my own creation but def wish they were 💔

WC: 2.2k

You think at some point you would grow used to death, it was always leering. Either a subtle shadow hanging by the back door or growing to overtake the whole compound. In some cases it was merciful, swiftly ending your pain through broken pleas or just pure exhaustion. But in other cases, and the ones I found to be most common, it was known to be rather violent.

I was surprised I even remembered what to do whenever the time came. A dreaded audition it felt like as I slowly trailed Ellie’s gaze to the switchblade in my back pocket, the cold press of a gun against my temple. I don’t think I even processed what had happened until I was backing away, staring at the dead body before me and the still warm blood now coating my hands. My breathing came out in startled gasps, shrieking in traumatized fear the moment I felt her arms wrapping around me from behind.

“It’s me, baby, it’s just me.” She whispered, taking me into her soothing arms even though I tried like hell to fight her off at first leaving streaks of blood in the shape of my hands against her shirt. She only held my trembling body to her chest as I tried to hold back the sobs.

‘You made one kill. Everyone here has at least made one kill. It shouldn’t affect you this much. You’ve lived your whole life letting other people do the dirty work for you, you should be able to make one kill. One measly little kill of a man who would’ve killed you had you not acted so fast.’ I guess I was the only one left who didn’t think the world was that black and white though.

~

I felt catatonic as we made our way back to Jackson, Ellie’s arms holding most of my weight. I half wanted her to leave me there, leave me there to bleed and be ravaged by whatever found me first. She never would though, even if it did mean she’d have less deadweight.

Vi never was a fan of the two of us going out on patrol without her. She always considered herself our guard dog, even over Ellie who could no doubt hold her own at this point. Many nights we still spent dozing off against her while she whispered to us that we were ‘her girls.’

“Vi, emergency.” I heard Ellie speak, my head a dull weight against her chest as she carried me through the front door.

“This is the last time the two of you go on patrol without me, I mean it this time, Els.” I heard her seething as her heavy boots nearly shook the whole house. “Is she hurt? Are you hurt? What the hell happened?”

“I’m fine but she… she had to-” Ellie held the words back, not wanting to speak them in front of me as I felt my body being placed on one of the old ratty recliners. Dead eyes staring forward, like every ounce of light had been winked out a long time ago.

Vi’s own soft blue eyes drifted downwards to the dry blood coating my still shaking hands, the quickest moment of understanding filling her expression. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” She murmured, the sentiment enough to bring forth a cascade of tears that I had been holding back until we were safely concealed in the walls again. “You did good though, doll, I need you to know that. You did amazing. Remember what we said, if it’s them or you it has to be you every single damn time.”

I sniffled through the ugly sobs with a shake of my head, I disagreed though I suppose I would always disagree. “She should’ve left me out there.” I finally spoke again after I had what felt like the inability to.

Quickly and without hesitation I could feel Ellie’s hand wrapping around my chin, gentle but firm as she turned my head to face her. “No, you aren’t allowed to say things like that.”

“Why not?” I shook my hand, eyes stinging and burning with tears as I watched her kneel in front of me with what looked like a wet washcloth.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” She didn’t answer me, carefully dabbing at my bloodied hands to wash all of the evidence away. Even though part of me wanted it to stay, tattoo the remnants of blood on my hands until I remembered who I was.

“Tell me why you shouldn’t have left me.” My voice shook as I repeated the question. Push until they finally said the truth. Push until they finally agreed to throw me to the wolves. Push and push and push… “I’ve been nothing but deadweight since I got here.”

“No.” Vi almost growled next, wrapping her own larger hand around my chin this time while I only stared back in defiance. “You are not deadweight, you are valuable and needed and- and we need you alive! I need you alive!”

“Darling, you don’t have to be a fighter to be important.” Ellie spoke next, much gentler than Vi had but still stern nonetheless.

It was hard to find a purpose to live in the apocalypse, I wasn’t sure where everyone found one. I knew Ellie had always had some terrible sense of self importance with the immunity. I guess over the years she had tried her hardest to transfer that to me. Some days it worked. Some days were good, amazing even. Gentle and soft days where I could dream about a world before the infection. A world I’m not sure I or Ellie ever remembered. Some days though, days like today, being reminded of that thought really changed things.

Vi had always been an ‘alive out of spite’ kind of person. Then one day Ellie and I rolled up into Jackson and turned her world upside down and shifted things for the better… that’s how she would tell it at least. She was slightly older, tougher, rough around the edges, but deep down I think she was secretly just lonely. She took us underneath her wing just as quickly as we arrived, all too happy to open her doors for us and things grew and built from there. But no amount of love or care I was given from the two was enough to cover up the fact, if I went outside of the walls something disastrous always managed to happen.

I was just simply deadweight. A bad luck charm if you will. These things never ended well.

“Baby, you’ve just had a bad day.” Vi shook her head as she took my own into her calloused hands. “That’s all it is, my love. We’re in the times of survival now, it’s kill or be killed and… I’m not losing either of you.”

I choked on another pathetic sob, hating myself more and more for every single one. Nevertheless though Vi pulled me into her, muffling the sounds of my cries into her shirt. Traumatized and shaking cries that I rarely actually allowed myself the luxury of, so whenever they came, they came all at once.

~

I fell asleep early that night. Vi running Ellie and I a bath to wash all of the dirt and grime from the disasterous patrol from our bodies. At some point I lost the strength to cry, but I felt like I had lost the strength to do most things. At some point over my sleeping body I had heard Ellie whispering to Vi though, to hide all of the guns, knives, switchblades, anything that could ever be used as a weapon. A mental patient in the middle of the apocalypse. Oh the irony.

“You think she would actually do something to herself?” Vi whispered in her hushed tone while Ellie gnawed anxiously at her already chipped nails.

“Yeah, I do.” She answered with a shuddering breath. “This is worse than Seattle and I- I already thought I was gonna lose her then- Vi, I’m not taking anymore chances.”

“Hey, listen, we’ll take care of her, okay? We’ve got her. We always do.”

“I hope so.” I could hear the rustling of clothes, no doubt an embrace she probably needed. An embrace they probably both needed. And I hated that I was the one who brought them there.

A moment passed and I had nearly managed to doze off again somehow in in the midst of it all just before I could feel the bed slightly dipping behind me. “Just me, you’re safe.” Ellie warned, waiting on my already exhausted muscles to relax before she slid her arms around me from behind. “I need to talk to you, okay?” She whispered against the back of my neck, my heavy eyelids fluttering open for a brief moment. “It’s okay, you can close your eyes. And you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to just… just listen, okay?”

Her fingers gently stroked soothing lines along with arms, the sensation only making my eyelids want to droop even further. “I’ve always had a- a really strong urge to protect you, Vi and I both have. A-And I think you know that. So if you wouldn’t have killed that man I wouldn’t have hesitated. He doomed himself. The moment he laid a goddamn finger on you he doomed himself. And Vi would’ve done the same thing and I think you know that too. Hell, he wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to if Vi was there.” Her fingers slid through my own, a soft yet possessive grasp.

“I know you think I gave up looking for Abby because you were reckless a-and you got hurt and you ruined things. And you were reckless, and you did get hurt but… you didn’t ruin things. You- You just changed things, for the better.” Her lips brushed against my neck, an innocent gesture though had me tilting my head to grant her more access all the same. “You saved me, baby.” She muttered, burrowing her face right into the crook of my neck as she pulled my back in closer to her chest. “I- I could’ve spent my whole life hunting that girl down, because- T-Tommy did ask me to, you know?” Her voice cracked, the feeling of small tears dripping onto my skin, a very simple way to get them to spring up into my own eyes all over again. Just whenever I thought I had been all cried out.

“You- You actually told him no?” My bottom lip quivered as I slowly twisted around to face her, just to feel her own calloused hand against my face. “But I thought you- you promised-“

“It’s not going to bring him back, love.” She shook her head, glancing downwards as if in mild shame. “But whenever you went after me in Seattle and- you got hurt…” she brushed her fingers along the jagged scar slashed into my arm that she was more or less cradling. “I know you were knocked out and you don’t remember a lot of it but… i-it really scared the fuck out of me, y-you know? Like I could lose you. I-I could really honestly lose you and… nothing is worth that, baby. Not a single thing is worth that.”

Tears swam in my eyes as she pressed her lips to the wet streaks that stained them. “You’re an angel, my love. An angel on this absolute fucked up planet and I-I pity every single person that doesn’t get to know you like Vi and I do, you know?” She briefly disconnected her hand from my face to brush away her own tears only to let it snake through my hair as she tugged me back into her chest. “You’re innocent, and you’re kind and you didn’t let any of this take it away and- I hope you never do, honestly.” I felt her chest sinking as she took in a heavy breath and held me to her almost for dear life. Like she was afraid I’d slip away the moment I let go. “No amount of self-sought fury will bring that back… I’ve tried. S-So please, I know it’s hard to find a purpose in this life but… please baby, please stay with me. With us.”

I curled up to her side, resting a heavy head right against where I could feel her heart thumping so softly. The other side of the bed dipped and while I might have flashed back to that moment briefly Ellie’s arms wrapped around me so protectively were enough to pull me back down to earth. At least for a moment.

“My girls.” Vi’s voice followed next, her arm nearly long enough to stretch over the both of us as she brought us close to her with ease. I felt my back pressing against her muscular chest as she settled down next to us, taking her usual trusty spot closest to the door as always.

It was hard to promise survival during the end of the world, even safe within the walls of a community. But for that night I at least promised I wouldn’t do it on my own accord. Someday, somewhere, something would kill me, but it wouldn’t be at my own hand.

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence.

Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

[zoesmp4]

hiiii i’ll throw my other hat in the ring and give you a thg req!!

angst to comfort fic because why not

but like reader is from district 7 and won the 73rd games, and much like lucy gray, used their wits and charm to win the games. and GOD FORBID SNOWS PAST COMES BACK TO HAUNT HIM they end up in the same room with finnick during the ring, and they grow closer and end up making a bond and falling in love

fast forward to the sewer, and reader sees finnick struggling with the mutts as katniss tries to usher them out of the sewer as reader is screaming and fighting to get back to him and eventually runs straight into the pile, almost dying

anyway they wake up losing an arm, but with finnick asleep at her side 🩶🩶

LOVE U BAEEEE

YOU’RE OKAY “look at me, you’re okay.” finnick odair x fem!reader

tags: blood, swearing, htc, violence, use of y/n

a/n: hii pooksters, i have retuned from the dead w/ my first thg fic!! req from my bae gracie, i changed up the losing the arm part because i didn’t really know if i could write it well, so im super sorry for that :( i don’t know how i feel ab this one, but i hope you enjoy!!

god, how you hated the hunger games. you weren’t expecting to be back, but here you were. 

when you had won the 73rd hunger games, you thought that was the end. you thought you could just return to your district, and forget all about the mortifying experience. 

but you were wrong. so wrong. all of that work, all of the trauma? useless. all of your efforts just didn’t matter. your charm and cleverness played a huge role in helping you to win the games. you thought you were smart, but you werent. you were stupid to think the capitol would leave you alone.

they would never ever leave you alone. they couldn’t give you a fucking break. here they were, trying to kill you, again.

them being them, they tried to make it different this time. they decided to make everyone room with tributes from different districts. 

you knew they wanted to cause stuff between everyone. but you weren’t gonna let them get what they want. you told yourself you were just gonna have to deal with whoever you got. 

to your luck, you were paired up with the “golden boy.” finnick odair, in the flesh. hooray. 

you thought it would suck. back in the hunger games once again, and rooming with this guy? it seemed like hell. that was until you started to get to know him better.

finnick was surprisingly sweet. really sweet. he was also funny. and you couldn’t deny it, he was really attractive. “what are you looking at?” you said, noticing how his gaze was directed towards your lips.

“nothing, your smile is just really pretty.” he replied. you felt your cheeks start to heat up. “what, cat got your tongue?” he taunted, a smirk forming on his face. “you wish. goodnight finnick.” you said, trying to hide the fact that you were flustered. 

little did you know, you and him would form quite a complex relationship.

“you win.” he said, while you two were perched in front of a tree, the leaves rustling with every slight movement. both of your partners had died by now. it was just katniss, peeta, you, and him in a truce. 

you brought your head up and looked at him. you two locked eyes before you opened your mouth to speak, “huh?” what was he talking about? “you win.” “i win what?” 

“my heart.” 

that’s all it took. that’s all it took for you to realize how much you really liked him. you can guess what happened after that. that’s right, you and finnick started dating during the games. 

from that moment on, you two swore to never let anything happen to the other. you both cared about each other too much to let that happen.

so when you were all fighting for your fucking life in that stupid tunnel, you were just trying to get back to finnick. katniss was trying her hardest to get you out, but you weren’t leaving until you knew finnick was okay. 

“y/n, you need to go now!” she yelled, holding you back, trying to help finnick herself. she prioritized everyone over herself, which was something you admired about her. but you needed to get him. 

“FINNICK!” you screamed, your voice echoing throughout the tunnel as you finally escaped from her grasp. you ran toward the pile of mutts, plunging your knife into one. “you shouldn’t be here!” finnick yelled, his voice strained with worry.

you ignored his pleading, continuing to fight with all your strength. as you clashed with the horrid creatures in the dimly lit tunnel, you felt fear and adrenaline pump into you. you thought it was going okay, until you felt a tug at your ankle.

“Y/N!” is all you heard before you were pulled down into the water by a mutt. you tried to fight back, but it was no use. suddenly, you felt sharp teeth sink into your stomach. 

it was a type of pain you hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. in a matter of seconds, finnick was at your side, fighting off the mutt which leaned on top of you. he was livid. 

you clutched your side, breathing heavily as a mixture of water and blood dripped down your body. finnick quickly took you into his arms, and eyed your protruding wound. he then reached out his hands to cradle your face. 

“you’re gonna be fine baby, i promise won’t let anything happen to you. jus- just stay awake.” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling as he tried his best to hurry to the ladder where everyone else was, you still engulfed in his arms. 

“i-i can’t. i don’t think m’ gonna make it.” you struggle to get out, tears starting to stream down your face. he wasn’t gonna let this happen. “hey, look at me.” he said, trying to reassure you that you were going to be alright.

“look at me, you’re okay.” 

that was all you could remember. everything else was a blur after that. you can remember faint yelling, but you can’t quite decipher what was being said. 

you woke up beside finnick. he had his arm wrapped around your body, and your faces were inches apart. your wound was all patched up, but it was still painful. hey, look on the bright side though. finnick had kept his promise. he made sure things got better. 

you were okay.