#so much fanfic potential

[rose-tinted-vision]

ehehehe this matchmaking episode might be my favourite in the series

[pokotho]

ive never seen a single glee fan mention the fact that puck canonically can play the piano And the accordian

[empressofthewind]

what's funny to me about Death Note is how casually the authors will drop the most insane lore you've ever heard and then just move on as if it never happened. like here's a girl whose parents were killed in front of her and who also would have been murdered by a crazed fan if he hadn't mysteriously dropped dead before her eyes. yes we WILL proceed to call her stupid and annoying for the rest of the series and never address how this affected her. btw did we ever mention that L is an orphan who has been working as a detective since he was 10? and that the orphanage where he grew up is now dedicated to raising child prodigies on the principle that their entire existence is worthless if they can't live up to L's standard? no? well he's dead now so here are his successors. yeah one of them joined the mafia at 17 and commits violent crimes because he believes it's the only way to prove that he's worth anything. yeah the other one had to take on the only case L couldn't solve entirely from scratch at age 13 with no prior detective experience. no the implications of this won't be addressed. also one of the new anti-Kira investigators has a vendetta against Kira because someone close to her was killed by him. will that ever be explored in canon, you ask? well you're not going to believe this-

[starryeyeddreamer21]

I need Vaggie and Husk to be friends SO badly. I just think they have potential like they could possibly be one of the best duos if given a chance. I actually have so many thoughts on this so hear me out:

There's so much potential JUST because of their relationships with Charlie and Angel (Charlie and Angel are siblings but we don't need to get into that right now)

But seriously short grumpy characters with wings and their extroverted beanpole partner is killing me

So basically I can see them both ranting about what their partners are doing on a daily basis but it always ends with "I love them SO much" "Cheers I'll drink to that"

I have a feeling Charlie and Angel are both the kind of people to leave lipstick marks on their partners and just not tell them so Husk and Vaggie have to check each other out real quick before going anywhere. I mean no questions asked just one of them standing in front of the other with their arms and legs spread out until the other one gives them a thumbs up or a rag to clean it off with.

I also think it would be funny if Husk was the first person to know Vaggie was an angel he just didn't mention it. He says so himself that the residents of the hotel will spill their secrets when they get drunk so Vaggie definitely got drunk and let it slip that she was an angel but didn't remember it by morning. Husk's motto is basically "That's none of my business" so he just doesn't say anything.

Also continuing with the "that's none of my business" thing, Vaggie absolutely agrees with that sentiment as long as it doesn't hurt Charlie or the hotel. Neither of them like people digging into their business and having Alastor in their lives means someone is ALWAYS digging so it's nice to be with someone who just does not care.

Oh and they both shit on Alastor 24/7 so good for them

PREENING EACH OTHER!!! By the time Vaggie gets her wings back they're close enough for this. Husk hates his wings and is shit at taking care of them but Vaggie really wants this to happen. She does miss some things about the exorcists and that's one of them. Of course she would never say that out loud but Husk gets it and they do it anyway.

Vaggie would start flying ALL THE TIME after getting her wings like she has so much time to catch up on. Angel knows that her and Husk are good friends and that Husk hates his form so he'll get Vaggie to convince Husk to fly with her. It takes a little bit but they have fun and Charlie is really proud of her so it's worth it.

They can literally sit in comfortable silence for hours and not get bored

They bicker all the time about everything like they'll say the meanest shit but they're besties and they're joking so it's fine

They are so down to kill Valentino at any time. They have multiple plans, they have lists, they're really creative about it too.

They'll just sit, people watch, and judge strangers together

They're so judgemental but also the least judgmental??? They'd be like "Why would you do that you dumbass" but also actually listen to what's being said and try to find a reasonable solution for each other

Double dates that Vaggie and Husk don't actually want to go on but unfortunately Charlie and Angel are convincing (they have a really good time)

They were both stripped from their occupations (overlord/angel). They miss it sometimes and they feel bad about it because they were both terrible people during those times. When they get like this they always seek each other's company. Sometimes they actually talk about it, sometimes they change the subject to something completely different, sometimes they have a drink and sit in silence. Either way they only acknowledge it with each other.

Husk teaches Vaggie how to make drinks. It's calming for him (even though it's annoying that he's technically being forced to do it) so he thought she might like it. She does and is actually really good at it. When they get more residents she'll help him out behind the bar.

Sometimes they'll sing together. They sound amazing and their partners love it. Husk also tries to teach Vaggie how to play saxophone it does not go as good as bartending did

They're the only ones in the hotel that can speak Spanish so yes they do use that to their advantage

Are both so tired all the time. They just deserve a stress free nap. They end up curled up together asleep and are found by Angel in the middle of the night. He takes a picture and immediately sends it to Charlie. Charlie and Angel manage to keep the picture but are not allowed to show anyone or ever mention it again.

They would never actually admit to being friends even though they're best friends and one of the few people the other can actually stand being around

JUST HUSK AND VAGGIE BEING BEST FRIENDS YOU GUYS

[hi-there-buddies]

I need a Dragon Ball spinoff about Android 17, like, yesterday. You’re telling me he became a park ranger, got married, had a kid, adopted two more, and you’re not even gonna show us what they LOOK LIKE?? You won’t even explain how it HAPPENED?? THAT SOUNDS SO FUN

I need a little comedy series about 17 being a husband/dad while trying to hold back his strength as a park ranger. Sprinkle in some angst of him relearning how to be human and MWAH 🤌

CINEMA

[harukamitsuki]

Ugghh been consuming some bnha stuff and I'm reminded of why I largely prefer fanfiction over the actual story. I have so much hate and pettiness within me. Even so, I am never going to change my mind on how much I hate how bnha is just an amalgamation of wasted potention. Search the definition of wasted potential up and there's just an image of bnha.

I remember watching it as the first season was coming about because it was made by Bones and I just have to watch it in that case. I watched episode one and was so excited.

We have our mc, Midoriya Izuku, being powerless in a world full of quirks.

His childhood friend turned bully, Bakugou Katsuki, is shown to be favoured by literally everyone and this feeds into his ego.

All Might, the number one hero, is jaded and powerless for 21 hours of the day because of a fight nobody knew existed. Izuku is attacked and helpless, but saved by All Might. All Might tells him he can't become a hero. A much needed reality check because Izuku didn't work out a single bit before then and it's so incredibly hard to fight someone who has something you lack.

Then Bakugou is attacked and helpless. Bakugou, who is so much stronger and who people love, is left useless, only able to make the situation worse with his explosions creating a fire hazard. The pro-heroes can't do anything. All Might and Izuku both hate themselves for the part they played and how useless they are. Then Izuku sees how scared Bakugou is. He runs in, inspiring All Might as he mocks himself for breaking Izuku's dream yet forgetting the core of heroism.

Then, after all is said and done, All Might goes back to Izuku. And he tells him he can become a hero.

...

Then he offers him One for All. Now, when I was watching this for the first time, I was so disappointed. You set up a powerless mc in a world full of powers and you just give him the power of the strongest hero? Great. But, I kept watching.

I watched Izuku work to get his power, struggle even after getting a quirk. I watched as Izuku finally stood up for himself and win against Bakugou. I watched as the series went on and I... I started noticing more and more missed opportunities.

See, bnha is supposed to be a zero to hero story. It's supposed to be about the mc going from powerless to powerful. But it does it so quickly. Suddenly, it's not about Izuku finding his own form of strength, or realising how being quirkless may not give any advantages but it also has no disadvantages, or even any commentary on quirk discrimination or fantastic racism or anything.

It turns into a story about controlling your power. It's not what I signed up for.

That's just one missed potential. There's so many more. Horikoshi clearly tries to make some commentary on quirk discrimination and female heroes/sexism in the workplace and entertainment over peace. There's some effort put into making a comment on how heroes are glorified and people don't see them as public workers, they see them as celebreties.

But it's never delved into. We don't see how bad people with mutant or 'villainous' quirks are treated, and we don't see how people with weak quirks are treated, or how the quirkless are treated (because the only reason Izuku was treated so horribly was because of Bakugou). We don't see how female heroes need to have a bit of allure in their personas to have any sort of support.

Yuuei is literally a camp for making child soldiers, yet there's no controversy over it? There's no such things as heroes having to take lethal action and no moral dilemmas over it? There's nobody speaking out about how Midnight flirts with students?

We have literally no information about how heroes work. We don't know how their salaries are decided, how they're ranked, how undergound heroes work. if twilight heroes are a thing, how anybody but Rock Lock feels about bringing children into adult matters, (seriously, why do people hate Rock Lock for being rightfully worried about having 15 year olds in a raid against the yakuza), we don't know how villains work and how to decide if one's a criminal or a villain.

Heck, the only laws we know of are fanon, and the canon stupid idea that you can't use your quirk in self-defense.

It's just. Incredibly infuriating.

Also, analysis as a whole is so under-utilised. Both Izuku and Shigaraki are deemed creepy for their analysis, which is such a useful tool. I mean, Izuku accurately guesses Stain's quirk, which is useful because, otherwise, they wouldn't be wary about Stain licking their blood or cutting them. Shigaraki accurately guesses the time intervals between Aizawa's blinks, which helps him a shit ton.

But is it ever used outside of these situations? No. The thing is, quirks are scientific in nature, not magic. Therefore, they're not restricted like magic is. Fire doesn't always have to be fire, it can be smoke or just heat. Ice can be water or steam. Acid can melt through anything or just be used as a mario kart banana peel.

There was so much missed potential and that's exactly why there's so much fan content.

Horikoshi leaves so much out, and everything he misses tends to be the interesting parts. He willfully explains Bakugou's quirk in detail, but everyone else? Nah. Fuck them.

I mean, let's look at Ochako's quirk.

Gravity negation. Or is it? See, if it were just gravity negation, then two things, in particular, would happen. First of all, Izuku would have fucking died when she saved him from falling. Second of all, she would not have been able to get infinity in the ball throw.

Negating gravity does not negate the forces. Therefore, when she saved Izuku from falling, he would have still been affected by the force of his fall. It would have been no different from hitting the concrete. Additionally, when she threw the ball, it kept going. Air drag would have made it so that she couldn't possibly get an infinity.

More accurately, rather than force negation as some fanfics suggests, she's telekinetically accelerating whatever she touches. She telekinetically accelerates Izuku's body to stop him falling, and does the reverse for the ball, making it so that it continues to accelerate after she throws it.

See what I mean? Because Horikoshi gave Bakugou's quirk a scientific explanation with him sweating a nitroglycerin-like substance and being able to spark it, you have to look at every quirk with scientific knowledge. He could have said 'oh, yeah, I store energy from my quirk in these gauntlets' but Hori just had to be a smartass.

By the way, because of Bakugou's explanation, it's possible that his quirk is not what is named. Yes, it's possible to have two sides of a quirk, as we see in Shouto, but Bakugou's quirk isn't explained in the same way.

Rather than his quirk being creating explosions, his quirk is more like creating sparks in his palms. Why? Well, you see. Bnha never delves into actual quirk theory, but there's more than enough canon evidence that you have one main quirk and then one or more quirk mutations. For example, Ashido Mina's quirk is secreting acid that she can manipulate the acidity and viscocity of. Her appearance is not related to her quirk at all, meaning it's a quirk mutation from her parents. Same with Tokoyami Fumikage. Quirk is Dark Shadow, so there's no need for the bird head.

Why does this relate to Bakugou? Let me explain: Bakugou explains that he recieved a mutation from his parents with his mother secreting glycerin and his father sweating acid with combustive properties. In other words, Bakugou inherited nitroglycerin-like sweat from his parents, but his actual quirk is being able to create sparks.

His quirk is 'Sparks'. Not Explosions.

Why am I ranting about this? Because bnha completely misses all of this! It makes no sense which is a shame because the concept is so interesting! But then it throws away any scraps of potential left when it becomes 'My Kacchan Academia'.

Seriously, why do people and why does Horikoshi love abusive pieces of shit so much? Why did he throw away the potential to look into Shouto and his siblings' feeling about Endeavour? Why did he make Dabi's plot all about Endeavour instead of Shouto?

It's so easy to compare the ways Dabi and Shouto handle their trauma and their ways of revenge. It's so easy to look at Dabi and think about how easy it would have been for Shouto to become like him.

Shouto was transfixed on Endeavour. Everything he did related back to his hate for Endeavour. Using his quirk, fighting, grades, social interaction, everything. His only reason for becoming a hero is to spite Endeavour. It's only because Izuku reaches out to him and saves him from his own toxic mindset that he's able to move one and do things for himself.

Dabi, or Touya, on the other hand, doesn't get that. He doesn't get that person who recognises how far he's gone, how, in trying to spite Enveavour, he's living a life centred on him. How he's jealous of his little brother for being abused and tormented.

While Shouto became a hero to spite Endeavour, Dabi became a villain.

They're both full of hatred at first, but Shouto is saved from that spiral. Izuku helps him. Dabi doesn't have that. It would have been so interesting to see these two face of as parellels, but nope. It's all about Endeavour. Shouto is nothing more than an accessory.

I understand Dabi being hung up on Endeavour, but to outright replace Shouto with the abusive flaming trashbag? No.

Also, if Horikoshi wanted Dabi to be seen as sympathetic or redeemable, don't make him kill innocent people. Don't make it so that he unlocks an ice aspect to his quirk in a life-or-death situation because all that means is that Endeavour was right to hurt Touya the way he did. All that says is Endeavour should have hurt him more.

AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON BAKUGOU.

This piece of shit bullied Izuku relentlessly for years, used his quirk on him (yes that is canon), told him to end his life, tried to assault him in Yuuei, tried to kill him, threw a tantrum at an abused kid for not being magically okay with using a quirk that reminded him of his abusive father, assaults Izuku when he tries to work together but still magically gets a pass for being carried out unconcious which Sero was failed for, and the list just keeps growing.

Oh, but my bad. He has a sad backstory. You see, he fell in a river.

[greyfics]

even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

pairing: the ghoul (cooper howard) x reader fic type: enemies to lovers, no smut, mild spice + eventual fluff slow burn meter: ◈◈◇◇◇ word count: 3.8K inspo: TPD lyric prompt list, reblogged on main reader type: assumed wastelander background, gender neutral, 'I don't need a knight to save me', assumed negative views of BoS, assumed gun for hire cw: strong language, violence, reference to fictional drugs, mild dismemberment summary: reader is a gun for hire who has gotten themselves into a bit of trouble in the form of a moderate bounty with a local segment of the brotherhood- and cooper howard knows he can get all the drugs he needs for what seems like an easy job.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"We can do this all day, darlin'. Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leavin' here with you." you feel the pressure of a pistol barrel pressing against the base of your skull from behind, and a disgruntled, defeated sigh slips through your lips. The game is up- you're out of ammo, down to the ripper hanging from your side, and 'gun against the brain-cage' is the indisputable checkmate.

Up to this point, you'd been pretty successful in shaking off the swathes of bounty hunters and jet-scrounging raiders that'd been on your tale since you became an enemy to the brotherhood- which, nowadays, seemed to be a pretty fucking easy feat to accomplish. The rusty knights were getting a little big for their oversized, several-tonne boots- and you had never been a fan of self-asserting authorities using their power in the name of 'order', especially not when they could hardly organise their own little sectors across the expansive, sparse remains of the USA.

As good with a revolver as you are, today it seems your luck has ran out and your karma has caught up with you, because you've finally met your match in a ghoul with a face so smug you wish you at least had a chance to slap it before losing the game of cat and mouse you'd been playing for a couple days now across Junktown. Your face collides into concrete and a quick click combines with the feel of steel against your wrists, The Ghoul's threat having evolved into a promise.

You spit a ball of blood and saliva from your mouth, wrought up by the hard impact with the ground below, "Alright, you win this round you freak- I'll come with you, just get these off of me." You hear a smirk from above, "Now how stupid do you fuckin' think I am? No, I gave you a chance to come willingly, you chose to shoot me in the leg. Lucky I ain't returned the favour." He gives you a light, sharp kick in the side with the tip of his boot, "Up. We got a long way to travel, and sooner we get there, sooner I get paid. I'll be reminding you now that I only get a bonus for bringing you alive, so make my life hell and I'll live without the extra caps." "Not exactly easy when my-" you hear the chick of a safety being cocked, and awkwardly shuffle back until you can jut sharply up onto your knees and slowly stand, turning to glare daggers into your now captor. The Ghoul's expression remains stiffly affixed with the wry, smug facade he bears: relaxed, squinting eyes peeking out above a thin, ever-upturned lip- you swear to yourself to you'll smack that smile off his face- but by all accounts, beneath the withered, decaying skin that had festered in his ghoulish transformation, the man had the stature (and admittedly, the jawline) of a filmstar.

You shake off the irritable possibility of monster like this getting lucky with the gene pool as a calloused hand secures a vice grip on one of your wrists and tugs you in suit as it's owner sets into motion, dragging you away from the remnants of an old civilisation and towards a military base miles away you are all too acquainted with.

You had been so caught up in the wild ride of adrenaline that came with being on the lamb that you briefly detached yourself from the catalyst of the chase- but as concrete and clay inevitably crumbles away to distant sandy dunes and cacti, the dread stirs in your stomach like a plague. It was easier to wave off the consequences of your actions when you weren't being marched towards the gallows to face them- it wasn't like you made an attack on the organisation. You kill one knight trashing up a town in the name of redundant technology, and suddenly you're on a hit-list. You know The Ghoul probably doesn't know this, and you know for certain that even if you tried to give the man a sob story he wouldn't care. This was it. "You about to be sick?" You snap from your pessimistic daze at the sudden interruption of silence, "No. Why?" "You look like you just ate a mouldy iguana, that's why- and I don't want sick on my boots." You let out an irked groan, and sharply snap your head to face the horizon in the opposite direction to your captor. You hope this will satiate his sour jabs for the time being-

Your hope is crushed five minutes later.

"Go on then. I'm bored shitless and I'm outta jet, so spill." He says with an almost theatrical exasperation in his voice, "Spill what, exactly?" you coldly respond in a mute tone, focus still fixed on the horizon to the west, "Well what's the big story? Someone's always gotta be the victim when they got a bounty on their head, so what's the tragic tale behind 'Y/N', huh?" the muscles in your neck and shoulders tense up at the mention of your name- you weren't exactly a known associate or long-time rival to the brotherhood, and the wanted poster you had wrestled from the stiff fingertips of a raider last week only had a sketch and a scrawled account of the incident. You falter for a moment before replying, but ardently avoid taking the bait, "If your plan is to get me to tell you how we got to where we are right now just so you can mock me, then I think I'd rather carry on enjoying the view, if you don't mind." The sweet-toned sarcasm at the end of your sentence seeps with venom, and the hostility it implies does not slip away from your adversary.

This time, his laugh is a soft, whisper of a chuckle- something spiteful, foreboding- followed by matching words, "You should hear what your little community had to say about you for a couple caps and a promise not to shoot anybody- well, anybody else-" his words cut into something personal, then- and though you would normally know that attacking someone with your hands cuffed behind your back is never going to end in your favour, at this moment you couldn't care less as you swing your leg round in a swift roundhouse motion, and raise your knee towards the only place you can think to leave a mark-

You hit your target, but instead of howls of pain you are met with a split second of awkward silence as the ghoul cocks his head, unimpressed, before slamming it into your own, sending you staggering back a few paces-

Before you can reorient your vision, a heavy dull force plummets into your ribs- the sand cushions your blow slightly better than the concrete you met face-to-face with an hour ago, at least. Your arms, however, are not grateful to be pressed beneath you as a familiar, withered hand pushes into your throat, putting as much pressure on your trapped limbs when your upper body presses back as it does on your esophagus, halting your air supply as he lowers himself down to a kneel and fixes your gaze onto his,

"If I wasn't already a walking corpse, that could've really hurt- not a very nice thing to do to someone just tryna have a little bit of light conversation now, is it?" All you can do is glower through eyes blinded by the sun, which gleams behind the shadow of the ghoul's head, bearing on it a smile tweaked with frustration- you need to breathe- you can't keep this up, your heartbeat is louder than the sun in your eyes and-

The pressure releases. You turn your head to the ground and suck in air between dry, heavy coughs, and after you've finally steadied your breath, you find a minor fleck of relief in being hoisted up from the ground this time instead of scrabbling to get up at gunpoint. You wonder, perhaps, if this is some small act driven by guilt- perhaps this man had a conscience once and a set of values beyond doing what it takes to ensure one's own survival. You were a gun for hire yourself, so it would be hypocritical to criticise your captor for his line of work- mostly, you preferred to stick with jobs guarding merchant caravans and to take out bands of raiders harassing the cities you passed through, but you never questioned the legitimacy of the requests you received, or the cargo you oversaw; you had settled for a little while, having stuck around the same little settlement for a few years now and had started to develop some semblance of a connection to the people there-

or so you thought.

You know you're going to be walking for a while- so with a resigned breath, you begin saying what little there is left to say about your present situation, "Well, you probably know most of what I can tell you from the sounds of things, but I guess there's nothing else for me to do right now, and the horizon is the same no matter where you go around here. I guess you could say we're in similar lines of work, but that's not really what got me in trouble with The Brotherhood. They think they can rock up in a power armour with a logo on it and wreak havoc as they please because it's for 'the greater good', but they leave towns half-destroyed when they pass through. I didn't want that to happen to... well, I didn't like the sound of that happening where I was. So, dude gets out of his power armour and starts waving guns around screaming about some piece of pre war tech or the other, and I tell him with... a strong choice of words, to get going. He starts running for the power armour, guns blazing- and I just have better aim, I guess. Not even like I got paid for killing him, either. Maybe that would've made this whole thing a little bit sweeter."

Your profession leaves a silence hanging in the air for a little while after, but it feels appropriate. The dunes filter sand from the far west to respond to your story- the horizon quivers, but only through the illusion of heat; the sand dries your eyes before they have reason to shed tears. A loaded sigh escapes the ghoul in front of you, and the clasp on your wrist softens but for a moment before stiffening to pull you onwards, "Yep, well, caps keep you going a little longer round these parts, but money can't solve all your problems." "You should tell that to the Brotherhood. They seem to be doing pretty well for all the wealth they've hoarded- can even pay big time bounty hunters to do their shitwork from the looks of things." You retort, but after a moment follow up with, "Wish I could say I was upset about it but hell, if I were you, I'd turn me in too."

You hear that soft chuckle again, but when you turn around to catch a look at the face that matches it, you see relaxed muscles and a far-off stare- he won't let you go, but he has let his guard down but a little bit- perhaps when we get closer to my story's end, he'll even let me walk to my death with my hands unbound.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

After trudging on in silence for a while, head bowed to your fatalistic contemplations, you find as you drag yourself out of the pit in your head and look over the horizon once more that the scene has changed: the atomic orange dewdrops spattering the sky not long ago have quickly to faded into a bruised overhanging shadow of violent, lavender, crimson; twilight approaches, and you're still surrounded by desert hills and illusions.

One of these illusory quivers catches your sharp eye, a dark blip that has appeared somewhere in that distance; it's moving, but it isn't close enough for you to determine whether it's just a trick of the heat or whether it's something heading in your direction. Your brow furrows, but you say nothing yet.

Within a minute, the object comes into better focus- or, rather, the creature. Your heart skips a beat, and you open your mouth to utter some kind of warning, managing to rasp, "Get the handcuffs off of me." "Now, darlin', I thought we managed to get past this already-" "No-" You tug your bound wrists, pulling the ghoul into your side- his other arm steadies itself against your shoulder before slipping up to your jaw and dragging it to face him, his own clenched and unaccompanied by a smile this time- the pallid complexion of your own face gives him enough pause for you to blurt in a fruitless, strained whisper, "Deathclaw."

If The Ghoul's skin could have paled more than it already had in his lifeless state, then it might have at that moment. The tight grip holding you against him slackens completely and you thud onto your ass as he draws his guns and casts you a playfully pitiful glance from above, shrugging and saying, "Sorry, darlin', guess I forgot to pick up the keys." He steps in front of you as a curse rips out of your throat in the sudden panic that ensues, and you try to muster enough brain cells in this moment to figure out a way of not dying, prematurely, and becoming just another skeletal curio.

There's the back-up plan, the 'if shit goes south' plan that you still hadn't gone through with because of the possible dismemberment that it might entail- but you had not been unarmed when you had been restrained earlier, and the phantom hum of a ripper blade always strapped to your waist as your last resort. You won't be able to wield it with any competence with your hands restrained as they are, but you can hit the power button from your current position-

Though, usually, you'd prefer to do it when the blade was already in your hand, not digging into the side of your leg.

shredded leg is better than deathclaw snack. Your astute analysis confirms your decision, and with a grunt and a whack, the blade starts chugging into a steady whirring action by the will of the dregs of an energy cell embedded inside- the next couple of seconds are far too long.

The blade begins it's excursion into your thigh as the gunslinging ghoul whips around at the sound, eyes wide at the sudden display of spraying crimson. You scream, struggle to try to align the cuffs without jerking your shoulders out of place. The deathclaw bounds into the mid-distance, closing in upon it's approach- it caught your scent before you could even see it's silhouette-

The tip disappears as your leg reflexively jerks, responding to the dancing jig of the chainsaw blade- you see pathetic sparks as the thing bounces off of the cuffs- strong enough to sever a leg, too rusted and battered to cut through metal. Your plan is failing. Your leg is bleeding. The cowboy falters as the deathclaw closes further-

You make a snap decision: fingers are easier to fix than legs.

You twist your wrist, and the pain just melts into the already existing burn emanating from your leg- a bloody, three-fingered stump slips from it's cage, and you swing your still-cuffed hand around in a fluid movement to drag the ripper from its sheath within your leg, snapping the cord that ties it to your waist-

You hear a frenzied firing of a revolver, but the approaching thunks are unimpeded- and though you know your leg may give way when the adrenaline finally dies, and though you know you need to find the two fingers you lost before sand vipers snatch them up and you're known as three-fingered y/n for the rest of your life- you launch yourself from the ground on your good leg, and stagger towards the approaching beast.

You grew up in the wastelands. You grew up in a settlement up here that, like any of the rest, was constantly plagued by critters and beasts- and if you were taught anything by the survivors that surrounded you, it was the following:

If you can't blow the bastard up, get 'em in the belly.

The deathclaw- a baby, thankfully- has it's gaze fixated on the man that had in the past half a minute become it's primary aggressor- so when you stumble forward, low and bleeding, with what to the creature is just another indistinguishable bit of metal in your hands, it does not see reason to change the track of it's jump.

As it launches itself above you, you pray to lady luck that you hit your mark.

An ear-splitting yowl and a sudden muffled crash tells you she's listening, for once.

Finally, after a few ragged breaths, the adrenaline wears off and you feel the weight of your body pressing into the wounds that liberated you- and the blueberry sky fades to black as you become weightless. This time, your fall is of your own accord- and this time, something stops you from hitting the ground.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

When you come to, you do not open your eyes at first- awake though you might be, your body is heavy with exhaustion. Before your encounter with the ghoul, you had been on the run for weeks, and in the last twenty four hours had not had time to stay put long enough to sleep. Coupled with the rough journey and the blood loss, you couldn't move if you wanted to. That being said, in those few dark minutes, a few things of note still catch your attention.

There is a faint crackling to your side, and the lulling warmth of a fire that brushes in waves against your face- and though you feel the silky grains of sand cushioning most of your resting body, your head lays higher up, neck leaning up to a more elevated surface- your attention snaps to the light sensation of fingertips absently grazing your neck in a repeating pattern, and the distant hum of an old country song embedded into muscle memory. The surrounding sensations are a strange comfort for all the brutal imagery this post apocalyptic world usually beholds; but it is brief, as your neck tenses, giving away your lucidity. The hand pauses, lifts- settles somewhere to the side.

When you dare to open your eyes, you are unsurprised to see the question-begging smirk and sharp eyes peering down from above, "Have a good nap?" You bolt upright, and immediately regret it when the bending of your leg snags one of the stitches you didn't know had been sewed into you until just now. Defeated, you flop back down, turning your head to the side to gaze into the dying embers of the fire beside you- praying you can brush off the flush of blush creeping into your face to the influence of the fire. Eventually you garner the courage to speak, "Feels like I've only been out for an hour." He snorts, shaking his head, "You went down around sunset, and it'll be sunrise in a couple hours." This catches you by surprise, and not just because of the amount of time you've lost, "What happened to getting your caps as soon as possible? Lost a lot of time waiting." He frowns, but does not lose his grin, "You trying to get yourself killed? 'Cos you've done a damn fine job of that so far. No, I've just been doing some thinking." "Congratulations. I'm proud of you." His eyes narrow into slits and he tuts at your sarcasm, following your gaze into the fire, "See, it could be argued that I would've been minced ghoul splattered n' buried six feet under the dunes if you hadn't gone all psycho slicing yourself up like that to get that baby deathclaw where it hurts." "That was a baby?-" "Anyway, guess my point is I might be willing to do a lot of things, but I still got my principles- only human thing I got left, probably. So I'd say I owe it you to not kill you at least. When you can walk, we'll go east to- well, to what's left of Shady Sands, and then you can do whatever the fuck you want."

You consider his words, and not knowing how to express appreciation or what to begin to make of this mysterious stranger and his obscure appeal, you find yourself rejecting this suggestion, though you don't know why- and so naturally, you dig yourself into a hole, "Well, you could also say that I would have died of blood loss if you didn't stitch my leg up." He studies you then for a minute, before shrugging and clasping your hands together at the wrists. You begin to stammer indecipherable protest and with a smirk he pulls you up, your hands still held rigid in your lap by his own, his head resting on your shoulder as he murmurs, "Now, I'm starting to get the impression you want me to march you up to our friends at the brotherhood just to keep my company." If he can't see the warm hue in your face now, he can certainly feel the heat flushing through your flustered face- you fight against the feeling, if only to make sure you stand a chance of winning this little exchange,

"Says the man who watched me sleep all night." You feel him shrug your comment off as his grin extends, "I might look like a monster, but I was a gentleman once upon a time. Like I say, I got principles." He lets you slip forward out of his grasp when you move to shuffle yourself around. As you do, you feel for the first time you are looking at him properly, sincerely- face to face, on equal grounds, with no threats of death or necessary facades of false confidence. After soaking in as much as you allow yourself to without losing yourself to curiosity entirely, you crossing your arms across your chest, and reply,

"Well, I have principles too- and if you're oh so graciously not turning me into the brotherhood then I still I owe you, so I guess I'll just have to stick around until you nearly get yourself killed again- that's all. No other reason." The ghoul rises, resting a hand on his pistol,

"You tell yourself that, darlin'- I'm gonna enjoy this change of scenery, I think."

[melinoiaagesander]

I know it's not the most important moment of Season 3, but JASKIER FINALLY GOT A HORSE!

[noot-noot-shoot]

I love Aoba with all my heart, but the bad ends hit just right sometimes

[jaybirdscoffee]

You can only pick one:

Optiratch have been married since before the war

Or

Optiratch never got to admit their feelings and op died wondering if they could have been happy

okay see this is one of my favorite topics of discussion at the moment because while i wish for these sad old men to be happy and gay married, i don’t think that would be narratively satisfying, at least for me. i’m an angst lover at heart, and the second option feels much more real to me.

going deeper into this, though, i like to think ratchet spent so much time mourning optimus, thinking about what could have been if optimus had lived, if it hadn’t been necessary to revive the planet. the end of predacons rising lives forever in my mind:

“optimus, i didn’t return to save a life, just to lose the one i care most about.”

that right there is the closest thing to anything canon that exists, but i honestly think it speaks for itself. what i actually think, if i didn’t have to pick just one, is that optimus was aware of ratchet’s feelings, and harbored his own and did what he could to express it in small ways, but ultimately could not bring himself to actually tell ratchet, whether that be because optimus thought it would be selfish of him to do so, or because he physically couldn’t (i think a lot about the matrix and all the ways that it possibly inhibits optimus emotionally and the divide between OPTIMUS PRIME and what’s left of Orion Pax).

[oborofollower7]

Yall dont know how happy I am that we got ONE LAST TOKOYAMI AND HAWKS PANEL

those two are such an underrated duo. I wish there were more fanfics of them

[excarow]

The visceral need for a Tim drake fanfic centred around time loops (maybe multiple loops so Tim never knows when it ends). Like, angst filled, hurt/little comfort, psychological deep dive into his head. The idea of Tim mirroring the worst year of his life (Red Robin run) as he's forced to relive the same few days and is forced to become his own person and identity before eventually learning to trust and lean on others to help him break the loop

[they-sleep-in-a-pile]

A fanart for another amazing fic that lives rent-free in my head <3 Out of one prison and into another by @just-a-winterguardian

Atsushi didn't know what he was. He didn't know why he woke up alone in a darkened jail cell. He has no idea what he did wrong, until a man appears, and offers him a deal that he is powerless to refuse.

[wackydoggs]

season 2 of clone high might have killed joanfk and spat on its corpse but i still love this ship with all of my heart, even if the show does not LOL

[inamindfarfaraway]

It’s so messed up that King Candy could just remove his subjects’ memories whenever he wanted. I find it hard to believe that in fifteen years, not one single person in all of Sugar Rush felt sympathy for the homeless, persecuted, abused nine-year-old kid whose only crime was existing. The palette swap racers were never shown bullying her. The other racers in general could have been subject to Taffyta’s bullying if they didn’t fall in line with her or when Vanellope wasn’t around to take all the fire. I bet they had some moments of compassion. They’re kids, not monsters. A decade and a half is a long time to stay bullies with no basic decency whatsoever at any point. Especially when you remember that Vanellope’s stolen code still left her with the sense that she was a racer and subconscious driving skills, and her fellow racers were similarly programmed to be like and be loyal to her. They could have been nice to her without allowing her to race. But it wouldn’t have mattered. Not with King Candy’s hands in the code.

Imagine having an arc of personal growth and forming a bond with Vanellope, who treasures it immensely, only to have all those memories and thoughts and feelings forcibly ripped out of your consciousness. By an authority figure you trusted and admired, no less. Would he always lock up Vanellope’s memories too, so that she wouldn’t expect anyone to give her a chance? Or do you think he’d let her feel betrayed and abandoned every now and then?

[cafulur]

Modern / College AU Labru Snippets:

- Laios and Kabru meet as classmates who get paired together for a project, and although they initially clash at first, through the assignment they find themselves clicking in the most unexpected ways.

- After the project is finished, they still keep texting each other. Laios sends Kabru a photo of an opossum that was lurking right outside his bedroom window late one night. Kabru later texts him a picture of a fluffy stray cat that won’t leave him alone every time he walks up his apartment. He initially acts as if he doesn’t like the cat and that it’s bothering him by always following him home, but Laios constantly enthuses over text about how he would love this meet this cat someday. Suddenly Kabru is sneaking this cat little pets and treats in hopes it’ll stick around for when Laios may eventually (hopefully) come over. Before he knows it, Kabru has formed a soft spot for the stray.

- Both of their friend groups mesh and the two find themselves wondering each day when they’ll get to see each other next. They instantly attach in group settings without a second thought, and everyone notices the spark they have going on but them. Laios is excited in a ‘wow this is the coolest, nicest, most interesting friend I’ve ever had!’ type of way, while Kabru recognizes & reconciles with the fact that he’s crushing pretty early on.

- Toward the end of the semester, Marcille hosts a house party, and there’s actually a moment where Kabru sits with Chilchuck on the rooftop ?? It’s an extremely rare occasion and odd for them to ever be alone together, but Kabru had wondered out onto the second floor balcony for some fresh air + a moment to think, and spotted Chilchuck smoking a joint by himself atop the roof shackles to the right of him, just beyond the balcony.

- They watch Laios and a few others down below do something stupid and party related, like chug a drink or eat something fast in one go. It’s mostly quiet between the two up top, save for the few awkward hellos in acknowledgment when Kabru first shows up. Until Chilchuck, of all people, decides to finally break the silence between them. 

“I’d just be straight up with him at this point, if I were you.”

Kabru jumps a little at the unexpected suggestion, glancing toward him with wary eyes. He does his absolute best in every interaction to present himself in a very particular way. Had he been that easy to read all this time?

“Straight with who?” Kabru questions as innocently as he could pretend with a smile, brushing a curl behind his ear.

Chilchuck takes a drag and blows smoke up toward the sky, slightly annoyed but not trying to bite this time around. “Laios. It looks like you want something so bad, but you’re holding back or something. He’s not going to pick up on anything unless you spell it out for him, y’know.”

Kabru covers one of his ears as he feels them burn, looking down into the plastic cup barely filled with beer in his hands. “It’s not— I don’t…�� he starts, but feels dumb finishing any semblance of denial. Surprising himself, he caves in, swirling the drink. “It’s just… I don’t want to lose this. His friendship has become pretty important to me.”

“Does Laios come across as someone who would make things awkward?” Chilchuck asks, snuffing out the nub of his joint into the roof and turning to Kabru. Kabru furrows his brow at him.

“Not typically, but I somehow can never figure him out when it comes to things I’ve never tried with him before. Risks with him are truly unpredictable.”

He hums in disagreement, watching the last of the smoke escape the joint before it completely fizzles out. “Eh, I don’t know. Think about it like this. If he doesn’t reciprocate the feelings, do you think he’d have trouble still being friends with you? Laios, being the way that he is, I mean.”

Kabru thinks about it for a minute. Laios really was different from other friends he’d made throughout his life. He didn’t waste time putting up fronts just to save face, and he can’t really pick up on things being awkward for either party. If Kabru confessed and got denied, it would hurt himself mostly, but it wouldn’t rapidly change the air between them. Laios probably wouldn’t want to stop being friends or need time apart just out of awkwardness, which is what one would normally expect after rejection. “I think I get what you mean. I suppose not.”

Chilchuck put the burnt out nub into his pocket to save for a final short smoke later. “I don’t know exactly what all goes on in that guy’s head, but being an observer, I’d think you’d notice by now when he’s actually looking back. I guess it’s easier as a third party.”

Kabru takes a sip of his beer as he carefully considers Chilchuck’s words and watches Laios down below. In that moment, Laios happens to look up and catch Kabru’s gaze, immediately smiling and giving him a friendly wave. It feels like it’s just between them, save for the audience member right next to Kabru witnessing the whole thing. Chilchuck sighs and stands up, dusting his pants off.

“You guys do you. I barely understand my own feelings and how to go about them these days, but if you already know yours so confidently, then there shouldn’t be much stopping you from sharing them. Bottling up seems a lot more painful. It’s hard to watch, anyway.” He stretches before crawling down from the roof shackles onto the balcony. He offers a small wave as he passes by to head inside. Kabru turns to watch him go, saying a soft “Thanks Chilchuck,” as he disappears into a hallway, presumably toward the stairs.

When Kabru turns back around and glances down, Laios is in fact still looking up at him. His face heats up a bit, unsure what to say or do in response, and then Laios is grinning brightly and motioning for him to come and join them. Kabru nods, downs the last of his drink, and then hurries inside, heart pounding in his chest.