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ot3 · 3 months ago

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HOT OR NOT? POKEMON

There are a lot of pokemon out there. Some of them are good. Some of them are bad.

the world of pokemon is a beautiful one filled with many "types" of pokemon. some pokemon are steel. some pokemon are bugs. some of them are even normal. lately i have found myself thinking, which pokemon is the most steel? which pokemon is the most bugs? which pokemon is normal? and today i am proud to say i have answered these questions and more.

It can be hard to decide, since there are so many of them, but luckily I'm here to make that decision for you. i have definitively chosen the most representative (most) least representative (least) personal favorite (best) and least favorite (worst) design of every pokemon type. and i will now explain it to you in detail

now keep in mind we are ONLY talking about design here. lore is not coming into play whatsoever. if you want to explain to me why xyz pokemon is actually the most/least/best whatevertype pokemon because it's based on this or that: i don't care. that's not why we're here. we're judging books by their covers today

Normal Type

Most - Herdier: This is just a regular ass dog, which may be considered one of the normalest things on the planet. It doesn't get much more normal than this, folks.

Least - Arceus: If i saw this thing it would be one of the least normal days of my life.

Best - Skitty: This is just a perfect design, there isn't anything bad you could possibly say about it and if you tried I'd hit you. Look at that face. ^_^

Worst - Castform (Normal): It looks like either a pair of balls or casper with a fat rack and in either case it's just kind of unappealing to look at.

Grass Type

Most - Shaymin (Land Forme): Although 'grass' a type represents all plant life, I am choosing to interpret it literally here. Shaymin is the grassiest of all grass pokemon, and although this is not part of the criteria, it is also very cute so lets all take a moment to appreciate that

Least - Kartana: this is an origami swordsman bug thing which to me isn't really Grass at all. I do love the design but it's not very grassy. yeah paper comes from plants but gun to my head i would have not guessed grass type for this pokemon in top 3, maybe not even top 5.

Best - Wo-Chien: I just think this guy represents a ton of pokemon design philosophy at its best. It has a very strong sense of color, good use of shape, is just a tiny bit strange, and most importantly is a kind of Creature i would like to hang out with

Worst - Calyrex: The more realistically proportioned hare head with the strange body does NOT work for me. I'm not mad about the massive berry on top at all but why the perfectly round torso? Why the stubby little arms? Why the noodle legs with the thigh high boots? I think you could fix this one pretty easily ultimately but it really needs fixin

Water Type

Most - Wailord: Although there is no actual water in wailord's design, the mere presence of a whale implies the necessity for an amount of water that is almost as catastrophically overwhelming in its absence as its presence.

Least - Palkia: Other than looking like an anthropomorphized speedboat palkia is not particularly aquatic in its nature

Best - Lapras: There's a lot of great water pokemon designs but i think lapras is firing on all cylinders. Really a classic pokemon design.

Worst - Quaquaval: There are a lot of pokemon that are uncomfortably anthropomorphic and there have been since gen 1. It's not something I'm against in concept at all and it's produced some of my favorite pokemon designs of all time. But unfortunately when it flops it flops hard. Seriously, what are these proportions? Perfectly fine idea for a pokemon just executed with shocking inelegance.

Fire Type

Most - Gigantamax Cinderace: This is simply the most amount of fire you're getting in a fire pokemon. Biggest bang for your buck

Least - Blacephalon: Another ultra beast design that is, as a design, excellent, but i would not be able to guess the typing on the first try if you put a gun to my head

Best - Chandelure: What if a haunted chandelier was your friend. Enough said. This thing just rules

Worst - Cinderace: Everything I said about quaquaval is equally true here.

Fighting Type

Most - Machamp: He's a wrestler with four arms this is as fighting as fighting gets

Least - Meditite: This is a small child in an open, peaceful stance. I sense no violence here. If he were to fight, he would have been provoked.

Best - Mienshao: effortlessly elegant design that conveys the aesthetics of martial arts and combines it with the simplified animal anatomy and strong shape language that represents pokemon at it's best

Worst - Gurdurr: This entire line is profoundly uncomfortable to me but the prominent near-bursting veins and inexplicable hourglass figure are at their worst here.

Flying Type

Most - Altaria: This is a bird made out of clouds, which is the most flyingest a thing could be.

Least - Shaymin (Sky Forme): This dude doesnt look like its feet are getting off the ground anytime soon if i'm being quite honest

Best - Sigilyph: Great example of what flying type can look out when you branch away from simple birds. The stranger and less organic feeling pokemon are collectively some of my favorite and i think sigilyph is one of the more effective ones.

Worst - Enamorus: 😬

Electric Type

Most - Xurkitree: The Exposed Copper Wiring Pokemon. Great stuff. Also a banger design on top of being the most. i love the ultra beasts

Least - Alolan Geodude: I understand the eyebrows and hair are supposed to be gatherings of lead sand but its still not giving electrivity. it just looks like a rock, one of the least electric things on the planet

Best - Rotom (All Forms): I wanted to put every rotom here but there was no way to arrange that easily. Just picture all the other rotoms here too. Rotom is awesome it's normal design is just cute and fun and then all of the other appliances are just a great concept.

Worst - Elektrike: Not unforgivably bad or anything but just kind of a design that doesn't convey a lot of information or have any appeal to it. Completely forgettable.

Poison Type

Most - Galarian Weezing: This guy is the most poisonous possible poison you could have. This guys hobby is global warming. This guy is dumping carcinogens into the river. And not just incidentally. He's ideologically motivated AND gets pleasure from it.

Least - Oddish: Not only do I not believe eating an oddish would poison me, i think oddish is healthy. I think it's good for you.

Best - Ivysaur: It's impossible to truly extract the nostalgia from my feelings towards the gen 1 pokemon designs but I think we can all agree. Ivysaur looks great

Worst - Eternatus: Does not even look like it belongs in the same franchise as anything else on this list so far. And on top of that, it looks stupid. 0/10. I do like the version of it that's an evil hand though.

Psychic Type

Most - Mega Alakazam: This dude looks like he should be airbrushed on a black velvet tapestry. I can't imagine anything more psychic than that.

Least - Exeggcute: Picking a least psychic pokemon was a hard one, because although we have some specific idea of what a psychic is, it's hard to say what one isn't. Ultimately, I don't think a handful of cracked eggs feels very psychic to me. I'm not sure what they feel like to me to be honest.

Best - Deoxys: Take a note, people, this is how you design a pokemon that's 'cool'

Worst - Necrozma: Take a note, people, this is not how you design a pokemon that's 'cool'

Ground Type

Most - Dugtrio: Dugtrios presence in the area is synonymous with the ground. in the same way that wailord's existence comes with the implicit presence of huge amounts of water, dugtrio's existence comes with the explicity presence of The Ground, because it's part of the design. We will never know dugtrio in its entirety, we will only see as much of it as the ground lets us.

Least - Whiscash: That's a fish, it shouldn't be on the ground.

Best - Trapinch and Claydol: I really really wanted to avoid ties here but please indulge me just this one. These are two creatures that are perfectly made but each in its own distinct way.

Worst - Zygarde (Complete Forme): Overdesigned as fuckkkkkk

Ice Type

Most - Avalugg: This guy's ice.

Least AND Worst - Jynx: Not only is Jynx not particularly icy, changing the skintone was really not enough to redeem this design.

Best - Glaceon: There aren't any bad eveelutions. That said, glaceon isn't my favorite. However in the contect of ice pokemon I think it does a great job of using shape language and colors that feel icy without needing to actually resort to just chucking ice onto it. A lot of ice pokemon are either a little bit too on the nose or just outside of my taste bracket

Bug Type

Most - Caterpie: Very bug.

Least - Pineco: this is a pinecone with eyes, which is different from a bug.

Best - Leavanny: Look at that winning smile :)

Worst - Buzzwole: TOO SWOLE!!!!

Rock Type

Most - Onix: You may think it would have been geodude, who is just a rock with arms, but onix is actually just a rock with a face which is then attached to SEVERAL MORE ROCKS. That's as rock as it gets.

Least - Sudowoodo: You can't pull the wool over my eyes. That's a tree.

Best - Lunatone: What if the moon was kind of creepy and also your pet.

Worst - Terrakion: Think this motherfcukers just ugly

Dragon Type

Most - Mega Charizard X: We all know Charizard is a dragon but that's only sometimes true. When it's true, it's very true.

Least - Tatsugiri (All Forms): Why is a piece of sushi a dragon. I do support it don't get me wrong. But I'm not exactly following the throughline

Best - Rayquaza: I think sometimes the legendary pokemon end up in the Too Much category but I think rayquaza pushes riiight up against that edge without going over it.

Worst - Dracovish: Shitting on the mix and match fossilized pokemon feels kind of like low hanging fruit. I honestly think they're kind of fun in concept. But this just looks stupid

Ghost Type

Most - Haunter: Self explanatory

Least - Decidueye: A very fun design but it feels like its got much too life in it to be ghostly.

Best - Polteageist: I'm insanely biased because I love ghosts and have a teapot collection so when i saw they put a ghost in a teapot i was overjoyed and it became my favorite pokemon as a whole instantly.

Worst - Gholdengo: Looks like the mascot for a string cheese brand

Dark Type

Most - Guzzlord: Dark type in japanese is Evil type which certainly has different connotations. In either case, I think whatever it means for a pokemon to be dark or evil is embodied here.

Least - Scraggy: I don't think this guy is particularly sinister at all.

Best - Mega Absol: I'm just so charmed by mega absol because it is indistinguishable from the kind of thing a teen with a deviantart would have drawn. It's like an edgy emo fairy white haired anime boy angel sparkledog. But despite that it still has a lot of aesthetic integrity and manages to only be a bit over the top in a way i think it's suited for.

Worst - Mega Sharpedo: This cluttered design pretty much undoes anything that's successful about sharpedo's standard form

Steel Type

Most - Melmetal: the unrelenting metalness of this guy is not even tanted by any even vaguelt biological components

Least - Wormadam (Trash Cloak): Not a single visibly metallic part on this pokemon

Best - Magearna: A clockwork magical girl... what a great design. i love her. so cute. there's really strong competition in steel type though

Worst - Varoom: Something about this guy looks agonized to be alive. And I feel that agony too. It looks like a motorcycle that was in the process of being transmogrified into a creature but the process was incorrectly terminated halfway through and now it lives a cursed and painful existence.

Fairy Type

Most - Mega Diancie: this thing could give me a quest to save the world and i would listen to it

Least - Galarian Weezing: I also wanted to do no duplicates but once again I will ask you for my forgiveness. Clearly this thing is the least fairy fairy. Not only is it unfairy, I think it tortures fairies. I think it's the villain in a movie where a bunch of children have to rescue a gang of captured fairies who are being used to power a Pollution Factory. I think this things grinds fairies up into dust and uses them to line the rim of its cocktail glass.

Best - Klefki: Klefki is soooo fun. I feel like if klefki was a ghost pokemon it wouldn't hit the same way because the idea of a haunted keyring is fun, sure, but it's notwhere near as good as a Whimsical Enchanted Keyring.

Worst - Zacian: this thing could give me a quest to save the world and im not sure i would listen to it. man the legendary dogs are just kind of a mess aesthetically

Okay that's all of the types. I don't really have a way to end this post. Of course there are a bunch of really good designs and really weird and cluttered ones that I didn't get a chance to talk about but. Idk man I can't rate every pokemon design there's just too many of them. there you have it.

#pokemon

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amyispxnk · 2 months ago

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Mi Niña Hermosa

Masterlist

Summary - Javier gets you pregnant, but then he gets scared, leaving you to raise your little girl all alone. One day, he sees you working at a brothel to try and make ends meet, and realises what he needs to do.

A/N: for this ask! i hope you like it pookie<3 also please excuse any bad spanish! i tried my best with it but it might not be 100% accurate.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of sex work and sex, violence, language, pregnancy/children, arguing, brief suicidal ideation, hurt+comfort, angst, men being men

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Shh, shh, Carmen, mi amor. Está bien,” you plead with your baby daughter. She’s been up for the past hour because of yet another explosion a few blocks away. You think it was a car bomb this time, but does it really matter? All you know for sure is that Carmen is not going to let you sleep through the night because of it.

She’s almost 12 months old now, which means it's been almost 2 years since you last saw Javi. You hate yourself for it, but sometimes you look at your little girl and feel bitter. It’s not her fault, but she was the reason that Javi finally said goodbye to you.

You both knew it was a long time coming, but when you showed him a positive pregnancy test that night, you yelled at each other until your throats were raw and all your tears had been cried, before he slammed the door in your face and left you there. It was the final time you saw him.

Because of Carmen’s deadbeat father, you ended up in a brothel. It was one of the hardest decisions of your life, but you knew you had to do it for her.

“¡Muy bien chicas, salgan y ganen algo de dinero!” You want to jump out of this building, is your first thought. Crash all the way to the floor and forfeit this terrible life you’ve been ‘blessed with’. But you can’t. So you hold your head high, plaster on a smile, and walk out into the lobby of the brothel.

Your smile drops when you see him.

Of all the fucking brothels to go to, he chooses this one? The one you just so happened to start working at a week prior? That tenth-storey window looks even more tempting right now, especially when he locks eyes with you.

He’s with a man, blonde hair, blue eyes. You think that man’s name is Steve Murphy. Yes, you’ve seen them on the news. Who the fuck hasn’t? It just makes you even more frustrated. He left you and Carmen behind so that he could hunt down Pablo Escobar. He abandoned the two of you for fame.

Javi’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Steve, before he starts making his way towards you.

Hell to the fucking no. You turn on your heel and almost drag a man you noticed was ogling you for the past 5 minutes into one of the rooms, letting the curtains close behind you, separating you from Javi.

The time you share with that man is no different than any of the other men you’ve been with, all uncomfortable and gross for you, mind-blowingly good for him.

Sometimes you still think of Javi when you feel a man on top of you. He was the best you had, after all.

Outside, Javi curses loudly, drawing the eye of a few people and his partner.

“What the fuck was that, Javi? We’re here to question the girl, not chase after this random. Your dry spell that bad?” Steve laughs, clapping him on the back. Javi quickly shrugs him off, jaw clenched and gaze hollow.

“I know her.” He mutters. Yes, he knows you. He knows every part of you. Your smile, which he only saw on a rare occasion. Your eyes, which could always pierce him, see straight through his soul and see the worst parts of him. Your body, which you now sell because of him.

Steve is still yapping on about something or other whilst the storm inside of Javi swirls, growing and growing. You’re behind that curtain, selling your body. He knows why you’re doing it too, and it makes him feel even worse. He feels like he’s about to pass out as it all hits him at once.

What a piece of shit he’s been.

You don’t deserve this life. You deserve to be happy, supported and protected by someone, anyone who can help you. Not Javi though. He’s not fit to be a father. After what he’s seen, what he’s done, he could never care for something as precious as your baby.

But he knows what men are like. Knows that, somehow, he’s one of the better men in this country. It’s not a high bar to pass, this he knows too, but he figures that it must be why you have to work here to provide for yourself and his child. Fuck. He doesn’t even know the gender, the name. He wasn’t there for you at all, and he should have been.

It feels like there’s no going back though. How could he ever apologise enough or make it up to you? What he’s done is irreversible. Just from the way you reacted when you saw him now, it feels like it’ll be impossible to try to apologise to you.

He thinks of his father, his mother. How disappointed would they be? They probably already were, but with this? Abandoning a girl with a child he gave her?

They would surely disown him.

He feels like he’s been ungrateful too. After being raised by two loving and caring parents, how could he leave his own child without one? And with a life like this?

He runs a hand down his face, telling Steve to shut up. A loud shout from the man behind the curtain, surely finishing without giving you a moment of pleasure. He knows what you sound like when the sex is good. You barely made a peep in these past 5 minutes.

The man walks out, commenting on ‘how good that slut was’ as he walks past Javi and Steve, and it takes everything in him not to punch him square in the face there and then.

“I need to talk to her, Steve. 5 minutes.” Javi decides suddenly. He can’t let this go on.

“You better not be fucking on the job, Javi.”

He grunts in response, entering the room and letting the curtains slide closed behind him.

The entire world goes still, silent just for the two of you. Almost 2 years have gone by, and this is how you meet. The shame almost swallows him whole.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, before you can even register what’s happening, because he knows you’ll be ready to kick and scream to get him away from you when you do.

Unsurprisingly, your eyes well with tears, and your face twists into one of disgust.

“Why the fuck are you here.” You spit, holding your robe tighter around yourself.

“We were here for a job, and-”

“Do you think I actually care? You fucked off two years ago, I don’t want to see you back here now. Whatever it is you want, I don’t care.” You interrupt. Yes, this was going to be as difficult as he thought.

“Baby, please just-”

“Don’t fucking call me that! You don’t get to call me that!” You shout. He’s on borrowed time before somebody comes and escorts him out of here.

“Just listen to me, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pleads, desperate for you to listen. He doesn’t know how to get his message across to you.

Your tears burst forth, fat droplets cascading down your skin as you turn away from him.

“Go away, Javier. I don’t want to see your face ever again. I see it in her everyday and it already haunts me enough.”

His baby is a girl.

“I’m here to talk about her. I… I want to help. I’m so sorry for leaving. I got scared. I thought- I wasn’t ready to take care of something as precious as a baby… I thought you would get hurt if it was discovered that a DEA agent like myself had a child.”

“Yeah. Agente de la DEA, Javier fucking Peña,” you scoff, “who abandoned his child in pursuit of fame. To catch a bad guy. Some fucking hero you think you are.”

He can’t get angry with you. He won’t. However wrong you are about what you just said. He won’t do it.

“I don’t want fame.” He grits out. How much of an asshole is he that you thought he would leave you for fame? “I’m trying to help this country. It was dangerous enough for me to see you regularly, you know this. If I was seen with a woman and a child, they wouldn’t waste a second trying to kill you both. I couldn’t let that happen to you. I care about you. Please understand, baby.” He begs you again, hand carefully reaching for your shoulder and turning you to face him. You’re still sniffling, silent tears falling down your cheeks as you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Mírame.” He whispers, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can see your eyes.

“Please, I’m sorry.” He says. He’ll say it thousands, millions of times, it still won’t be enough, but he can see that you’re starting to understand.

“It’s been 2 years. I had to be pregnant and raise her all by myself. Not once did you check on me.”

“I was scared. I was being a coward, I know. I… I won’t be surprised if you tell me to leave again, but let me help pay for her. I don’t want you working here. It’s dangerous.” He murmurs, eyes shining with emotion as he looks into yours.

You shake your head, and he gets ready to argue about it, but you pull him closer, squeezing the air out of him and shaking with sobs again.

“I’ve needed you for so long. I- I don’t know how I managed this long. I need you, Javi.” You choke out, his heart shattering with every word until it’s laid out on the floor for you.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He soothes, running his hand through your hair.

Over the next month, he helps you leave the brothel, gives you some money to get on your feet. You still live apart, despite his protests that you’d be safer living with him, you’re not ready yet.

Today you figure will be the decider of that. He’s going to meet Carmen.

You rub your eyes as the morning sun hits you, rousing you from your sleep. The clock reads 9:37. Just over 20 minutes until your daughter finally meets her father.

The 20 minutes are spent waking and feeding her, before a knock on the door stops you.

You exhale shakily and walk to the door, opening it slowly.

“Hola, Javi.” You say softly. He greets you, equally timid. You notice he’s holding a little teddy bear in his hands, almost making you laugh at how it looks being held by this big brooding man, but you just shake your head.

“Come and meet her.” You murmur, opening the door further so he can step inside.

There, messing around on your bed, is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. He can definitely see his features on her face. The lips, the eyes. She got your nose, thankfully he thinks, and her hair is a unique blend of yours and Javi’s.

“She’s so beautiful.” He whispers, and you just nod, still unsure of your feelings for him right now.

“Carmen, baby, say hello.” You coo, picking her up and bringing her over to Javi. He’s quiet, scared, as always. But then she babbles at him, clapping her hands together and trying to reach for him. The teddy. He almost forgot about it.

“Hola pequeña, soy tu papá. ¿Quieres el peluche?” He says softly, waving it around a bit before handing it to her and letting her play. You and Javi talk for a bit while she sits on the bed, but then something happens. She gets tired, which is normal around 2pm, but instead of crawling to you, she goes to Javi. Carmen wraps her little fingers around one of his larger ones, curling up in his lap. The two of you still, and it shocks you to see tears appearing in his eyes as he strokes her hair, letting her sleep on him.

You decide to move in with him that night, realising that you don’t want him to be away from you and Carmen ever again.

TYSM for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

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blissfullsvn · 6 months ago

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between the lines

pairing. academic rival!taesan x reader genre. fluff word count. 1.3k warnings. reader is sick, reader calls taesan a prick, he is kinda a prick (but fluff triumphs all 🙏) a/n. it's necessary for their dynamic but no actual rivalry is emphasized here... (for my fellow academic rivals-to-lovers enthusiasts... ill cook up sth soon) pt.2 | masterlist

taesan is flustered.

you and taesan had never really had an amicable relationship. to put it into perspective, you'd rather spend hours editing the mess of a report your equally-messy groupmates wrote, than spend hours working together with han taesan—the student well-known for submitting flawless and only flawless pieces of work.

it wasn't always like this. of course it wasn't. who in their right mind would prefer to add 'babysitting adults' onto their plate that's already filled to the brim, instead of making their life easier by grouping with an academic weapon?

but working with han taesan is not for everyone.

actually, scratch that. working with han taesan is not for you.

you don't know what you did, but you're almost 100% sure he has a personal vendetta against you. for such a pretty face, his mouth only spits out the nastiest of things, at least to you.

actually, scratch that again. han taesan only does that to you.

because you shared all the core modules with him, you had foolishly decided to group up with him for all the assignments you had in your first semester of university. to put it simply, that was probably the worst decision you’d made in your life.

why? for every idea you gave, he'd step over with another. for every suggestion you offered, he'd pinpoint every aspect to shut it down. sure, he may have had better ideas, but you didn't think it was necessary to stomp at your input so readily. you definitely didn't think it was necessary to smirk like he'd won a battle after every instance.

you thought you'd be able to escape his belittling remarks and irritating smugness after that one semester, but why did he have to share the same plans as you as well? the day you stepped into the student council office and saw him sitting in the seat next to yours, you already felt dread clawing at you.

fast forward to the present, you're both running for student president for the next year. you had already lost the role of vice president to him this year, so you're determined to not let him pick at you again. not that he could even if he wanted to, because you practically transform into an iron shield whenever he enters your vision (which is more times than you'd liked, considering you share the same environment with him everywhere. he seems to enjoy this, though).

you've been preparing diligently for your student president pitch, but that's also on top of having 5 tight assignment deadlines and planning the biannual festival happening in the next month. for the past weeks, the student council office had turned into your place to work, eat, and even sleep, though the last was never intentional.

today, again, you're sitting at your desk, your laptop opened in front of you, but it’s unlike usual—a cup of hot-turned-lukewarm tea next to you, a pile of tissues scattered around the table, an oversized hoodie draped over your frame, your sniffles echoing across the empty room, and your body which felt heavier than usual.

you've tried your hardest fighting the urge to fall asleep, the dimness of the room not helping, but when the clock struck 3, you decide to give yourself mercy and lean forward, resting your head on your arms over the table. it's far from comfortable; your back is aching, your neck is sore, your nose is uncooperative, and the screech of the door is hurting your head.

you open your eyes briefly at the intruder by the door. they're frozen for a beat, as if surprised to see you there, then they’re tilting their head in what seems to be confusion. soon, they're taking small steps towards you. you should be alarmed, but your defenses have shut down from the fatigue, so all you can think is that if you die, you hope you die a climactic death.

the intruder, thankfully, does not appear to have any intent of killing you. they are, however, intent on disturbing you.

“y/n?” there's a soft tap on your shoulder. you squint, trying to decipher the blurry face in front of you before deciding against it. your act of protest comes out as a small whine that unintentionally escapes the back of your dry throat.

the figure stands there in shock, hand hovering your back. they blink a few times, as if trying to register what they just heard, before they decide to squat next to you, patting your shoulder again.

“y/n? don't sleep here.” the voice is familiar, but uncharacteristically soft. and fond. why is it fond?

you open your eyes again. seeing han taesan mere inches away from your face is something you'd never expect, but you're too tired to even be shocked. instead, you blink slowly, as if you're a newborn reacting to stimuli you've never experienced before.

“han taesan,” you mumble against your arm. your voice comes out nasally from your cold and as a result, more whiny than usual.

“y–yes?” he ignores the stutter and moves his hand to brush away the strands of hair covering your face. it comes so naturally that he freezes when he realises and quickly pulls his hand back to himself.

“prick.” you shut your eyes as you say this, missing the widening of his eyes. “annoying.”

he frowns, “i'm annoying?”

“very.” you don't miss a beat to reply. “why do i have to see you everywhere . . . .” you trail off, your voice decreasing in volume as you speak.

taesan is silent for a few moments, during which the only sounds that can be heard are the tick-tock of the clock and the whirs of the air conditioner. he takes one glance at your hoodie and the tissues around you before promptly turning off the AC.

“fine,” he huffs as he stands up. “i’ll be annoying for a bit more.” he taps your shoulder again. “go home. you can't sleep here. it's so late.”

the deprivation of sleep is getting to you, because your immediate response to him is to let out another whine that would immediately shatter your image of the cool senior and president-to-be if anyone heard you.

which, of course, brings us back to the first line.

taesan is flustered.

he's never seen you this… babyish before. ever since the first semester, all you would entertain him with were glares, furrowed eyebrows, and the occasional roll of your eyes if you were really salty. you had never been this defenseless around him, to which he feels something tug at his chest.

he stretches his lips into a line and squats down again. “what do you want me to do then?” his voice is soft. too soft. “i’m not letting you sleep overnight here.”

you slowly open your eyes, sniffling as you look at him in disbelief. “if you're not willing to carry me home, just go.” you shut your eyes again.

it's silent once again. at this, you dig your face deeper into your arms, having zero expectations. you furrow your eyebrows slightly when you hear shuffles above you, followed by the clash of stationeries, the crackle of the plastic bag used as your trash bin, the sudden cease of the whirring of your laptop fan, and finally the sound of a zipper.

you open your eyes in time to see taesan cupping your face in one hand and pulling your arm with the other to make you sit up. you let yourself be handled without evident resistance, though your confusion is blatant. once he sees that you're up, he quickly squats down in front of you, back facing you.

“climb up. this annoying prick will carry you home.”

a/n. this may or may not be insanely self-indulgent due to a cold i may or may not have. i also may or may not have thoughts about a pt. 2. (edit: pt. 2 is out!)

anw, first post! just fitting for it to be about han taesan bcs this man (read: bnd as a whole) has been living in my brain for the past month (case in point: me literally writing this note at 3am when my headache is killing me).

i hope this was as enjoyable to read as it was for me to write <3

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embrosegraves · 10 months ago

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𝒜𝓊𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝐵𝑒𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝐼𝓃 𝒩𝒶𝓋𝓎

Oscar thought he wouldn't have to deal with anything similar to Alpine-Gate ever again. He was wrong.

Oscar Piastri x Horner!Reader

-> Everything Goes Wrong (pt1) -> Oscar breaks up with his girlfriend and McLaren start treating him like Daniel, but then he meets someone new. posted: 3 Feb 2024

-> A Storm Is Brewing (pt2) -> Mark gives the Go-Ahead for possible negotiations with Red Bull, McLaren pull an Alpine, and Oscar makes a decision. posted: 5 Feb 2024

-> The Build Up (pt3) -> In a large bowl mix Contract Negotiations with two parts Announcements and three parts Life Updates, let cook for an hour and while it's still hot, sprinkle some jealousy and betrayal over the top as a nice garnish. posted: 12 Feb 2024

-> Pre-season Bonding (pt4) -> Where teams are announced, dinners are held and Oscar finds himself surrounded by people who are determined to help him on his way to greatness. posted: 3 Mar 2024

-> Get This Party Started (pt5) -> The season starts and it's a relatively calm affair, until it's not. Some things can be predicted while others show up like an unwanted Force Ghost from Star Wars. posted: 29 Mar 2024

-> Down Time Down Under (pt6) -> Oscar finds that having a crush having less than platonic feelings for your boss's only adult daughter is apparently free real estate for some of F1's biggest gossips posted: 10 May 2024

-> Shift Happens (pt7) -> Miami and Imola bring new challenges to the grid. Challenges such as finally initiating the romance part of your potential relationship- oh and being on the podium with your ex-teammate too. posted: 19 May 2024

-> Warning Sainz (pt8) -> Monaco, Canada and Spain oh my! Oscar decides to continue his quest for world domination (claiming home races) and prove that he's the best boyfriend his ex ever lost. posted: 23 June 2024

-> Baby Got Track (pt9) -> Adding two more GPs to his list of home races, Oscar realises that he's A-OK with having half his bags packed with things that aren't his. posted: 10 July 2024

-> Silly Goose Extraordinaire (pt10) -> When Y/n isn't there for two races, Oscar discovers that he's far more attached than he thought he was. At least it's almost the mid-year break! posted: 5 Aug 2024

-> Red Bull Gives You Wings (pt11)(pending) -> Mid-year break brings a lot of strong emotions, but there's only one thing that could make them even more intense... posted:

-> Simply Lovely (pt12) -> posted:

-> Big Ric Energy (pt13) -> posted:

-> Red Bull School Of Racing (pt14) -> posted:

-> 1st's The Worst, 2nd's The Best (pt15) -> posted:

-> We Shenan'd Once, Let's Shenanigan (pt16) -> posted:

This is an Ongoing Series!

#Aussies Belong In Navy #ember's masterlist #redbull!oscar piastri

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year ago

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The Forgotten Nest - Rooster

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw / Mitchell!OC (Cora)

Word Count: 3.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Past Unplanned Teenage Pregnancy; Angst; Absent Father Figures; The 'He Didn't Know About the Pregnancy' Trope; Repeating Trauma Cycles (Teen Pregnancy, Absent Parents, etc.); Crying; Carole Would Be Disappointed; Named Mitchell Daughter OC (Cora) and Named Mitchell-Bradshaw Son (Nickie)

Summary: Years ago, Rooster left Cora Mitchell's life when her dad pulled his papers. And, unknowingly, he left behind something other than just his toothbrush.

A.N. There are references to a previous unplanned teenage pregnancy (between two eighteen-year-olds) in this fic. There won't be any flashback scenes to the pregnancy, but the references are still there, so if that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

Master List

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

Rooster walked out of the admiral’s office with his new orders clutched carefully in his hand. He kept his head held high as he walked through the narrow halls of the USS Gerald R. Ford, heading for his quarters to pack his bag and prepare to fly back to US soil. To Top Gun. To Miramar.

The Californian town had a lot of memories—some of the best and some of the worst of his life. It was the town where he lost his dad before he truly understood the gravity of it all. It was also the town where he spent his later years of high school after his mom died. Where he learned how to drive, where he graduated high school, where he had all of his firsts with a girl—now woman—whom he hadn’t seen since he stormed out of her life.

Cora Mitchell. Maverick’s daughter.

As a result of some poor decisions at nineteen, Maverick ended up with daughter only a few months younger than Bradley. Cora’s mom wanted nothing to do with her and even though Maverick was far from fit to be a father, he would have preferred falling down 100 flights of stairs than letting his child go into foster care.

Carole quickly offered to help raise Cora and help Maverick out. And as his mom used to call them, they were built in best friends. And in the later years of high school, they were a lot more than that. Sneaking into each other’s beds and spending the nights together was fairly regular and easy for them to pull off with Maverick’s bedroom on another floor.

Of course, then Maverick pulled his papers and then he left that life, and Cora, behind completely.

Rooster entered his room and shut the door behind him, heading for his bunk. His roommate wasn’t in, still doing drills with the rest of their squad, leaving Rooster alone with his thoughts. He opened the folder again, reading over the orders once more before he found his gaze shifting. Pulling out his personal bag, Rooster reached into one of the smaller pockets and pulled out a small photo preserved in laminate.

It was from a photo booth at Bradley’s senior prom. Cora sat on his lap, beaming at the camera as Rooster pressed a kiss to her cheek.

It was stupid to still be this curious about what Cora was doing with her life. After all, he was the one who broke up with her and stormed out of her life, saying all kinds of nasty things that he regretted the second that he said them. And he had to admit that he had scrolled through social media, trying to find a glimpse into her life, to no significant results.

All he knew was that she took some time off after high school and eventually graduated from nursing school. He assumed that she was still working as a nurse. And he knew that she now lived in or around Miramar. He didn’t have the guts to try and contact her when he was in town for Top Gun the first time around.

But maybe this new, and probably highly dangerous, mission would finally give him the kick in the ass to try and make things right with Cora. Even if it was just a simple apology, like a small ‘sorry,’ it would take away some of the guilt that ate away at his stomach every single time that he remembered her crestfallen expression and calls for him to come back.

Tucking the photo back into his bag, Rooster stood up and started to pack, letting his mind wander to what Cora’s life looked like now.

~~~~~

“Nicholas Peter Mitchell!” Cora thundered, marching towards the stairs, still dressed in her scrubs from work. “Get your butt down here now!”

Cora was only partially pleased to hear her son scrambling around, undoubtedly in the middle of some kind of panic due to her tone. She tapped her foot, able to picture her son’s exact expression of fear. She would have preferred that he simply told her ahead of time because then they could deal with it together, but he forced her hand by hiding it.

The sound of a door opening and a soft pattern of footsteps caused Cora to pick her head up. Her eyes narrowed when her son, Nickie, poked his head out from behind the wall with a sheepish smile. She shook her head when his expression gave away the fact that he knew exactly why she was upset. And that only caused her migraine to intensify.

“Hey, Mom. Did you have a good shift?” Nickie asked kindly, stepping out from behind the wall. “And did I mention that I love you and that you look more beautiful than usual today?”

Nickie, or simply Nick to his friends, was far from her twin. His hair was a light brown and curled at the end. His eyes were big and light brown, like someone she knew well in the past. The shape of his head and his cheekbones that were starting to emerge from the baby fat came from her side of the family, but the slope of his nose reinforced his father’s influence on his features.

But his sheepish, mischievous smile was definitely a Mitchell trait. Undoubtedly.

“When were you going to tell me that you got a speeding ticket?” Cora questioned, eerily calm despite her earlier yelling. “Today? Tomorrow? Next week? Never?”

“Mom, I already paid it off—”

“—When were you going to tell me?” Cora demanded, not amused. When Nickie fumbled for a response, Cora straightened up. “You have had your license for a month and you’ve already gotten a speeding ticket, Nickie. That’s not funny. You clearly do not understand that your car and your license are privileges, not rights.”

“It was at that speed trap under that highway pass on the way to school,” Nickie tried to explain, but Cora was not going to give him an inch of the moral high ground.

“I do not care where you got the ticket. I care that you were reckless behind the wheel of a motor vehicle. I care that you got a speeding ticket and now it’s on your record. And I care that you hid this whole thing from me.” Cora sighed, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head at her son. “How much was it, Nickie?”

“Thirty bucks,” Nickie replied quietly.

“Well, then I think that thirty is an appropriate number of days to not need your car. And a good number of days to think about the importance of following traffic laws,” Cora stated, folding her arms over her chest. “Where are your keys?”

Nickie sighed and walked downstairs to grab his keys from the countertop. He quickly returned to his mother’s side and placed them into her open hand without a fight. Cora closed her hand and shoved the keys into her pocket.

“I’m serious, Nickie,” she stated softly, causing the teenager to turn back to her with doe eyes. “I don’t want you getting hurt. And speeding around, especially on these roads where there’s a thousand pedestrians and everything—it’s not safe. For you or anyone else.��

“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for having the maturity to realize that it was your bill to pay,” Cora offered her son in return, her tough exterior cracking just a bit. She rubbed her face tiredly. “And that’s probably what I get for letting your grandfather teach you how to drive.” Letting out a sigh, Cora dropped her hand from her face and turned back to Nickie. “How’s your homework coming?”

“Mostly done. I’ve got a test tomorrow.”

“Good.” Cora set her purse and the mail down on the countertop. “I’ll get started on dinner after I take a shower. Work on your homework and I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Cora walked into her bedroom and made a beeline for her on suite bathroom. Throwing her scrubs into her specified scrubs laundry bin, Cora quickly washed up from a long day at work. She changed into some comfortable clothes and a Navy sweatshirt before heading to the kitchen to start on dinner. The sun started to set in the distance as Cora waited for the chicken to cook.

The distinct sound of a Kawasaki caused her to look up from the oven, frowning with surprise. Walking over to the front windows, Cora was shocked to see her dad pulling into the driveway.

“What the—” Cora walked over and opened the front door, stepping out onto her front porch. “Dad? What are you doing here?”

“I thought that I would drop by since I was in town,” Maverick replied, setting up his kickstand and getting off his bike.

“Why are you in town? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” Cora added on, walking down to greet him. Maverick picked up the bag that he strapped to the back of his bike and pulled his daughter into a hug. But when she felt him wince, she instantly pulled back with a sharp, knowing look. “What happened now? What did you do this time?”

“Is that dinner that I smell?” Maverick asked, redirecting the conversation.

“You’re not getting out of this conversation,” Cora warned him, turning for her home and pulling the door open. “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not twenty anymore? And could you at least wear a helmet once in a while?”

“Mom, who are you talking to?” Nickie yelled from upstairs.

“Your grandfather decided to drop by. Randomly,” Cora called back to her son.

A second later, there were a set of rapid footsteps echoing down the hall before Nickie appeared at the top of the stairs. His grin was immediately wide, showing the likeness between him and his grandfather, before Nickie hurried down the rest of the stairs to greet his grandfather.

“What are you doing in town?” Nickie asked, jogging over to Maverick.

“Well, I thought that it was a good idea to visit my favorite kid and grandkid once in a while,” Maverick joked, pulling Nickie into a hug despite his aching ribs

“Pops, I’m your only grandkid,” Nickie pointed out, frowning slightly.

“Still counts.” Maverick stared up at Nickie, jokingly inspecting him. “Did you get taller since the last time that I saw you? You look taller.”

“Maybe you’re just shrinking,” Nickie quipped, causing Maverick to turn to Cora.

“Don’t look at me,” Cora replied, gesturing to her own short stature. “Nickie over here got about three generations worth of height.”

Or, rather, he just had other genes to pull from when it came to height. And the men on the other side of Nickie’s family were all at least six feet tall, like Nickie was quickly shaping up to be. But not a single Mitchell in that household was going to bring that up.

Once dinner was finished cooking, the three Mitchells set the table and sat around, chatting and catching up since the last time that Maverick was in Miramar.

“I thought that you said that you wouldn’t be done with that project for a while,” Nickie stated, turning to his grandfather.

“Well, plans change,” Maverick replied noncommittally, glancing down at his plate.

“Because they were actually changed or because you felt the need to change them?” Cora deadpanned, cutting into her chicken.

“There might have been some . . . minor scheduling changes.”

“So, you’re not just visiting then,” Cora deduced, reaching for her drink. How she wished that it was wine instead of water.

“How long are you in Miramar for then?” Nickie asked excitedly, reminding Maverick painfully so of Bradley as a teenager.

“A few weeks. Somewhere around a month.”

“For what?”

“That’s classified,” Maverick replied, causing Nickie and Cora to roll their eyes in seemingly practiced sync. “I’d tell you, but—”

“—But then you’d have to kill us, yeah, we know, Gramps.”

“How’s school then? Still swimming and everything?” Maverick asked Nickie, changing the subject.

“It’s good. Swim doesn’t start for a few more weeks, but I’m trying to train before it. But I think I’m going to have to focus on running.”

“Why? Something wrong with the car?” Maverick questioned, looking concerned.

“No, just the driver,” Cora replied, setting down her utensils. “Nickie got a speeding ticket.”

“How bad?” Maverick asked, earning a sharp look from Cora. “I mean, that’s bad, Nickie. Don’t do it again. You have to get a little bit more driving experience before you start speeding.”

Cora sighed, holding her head in her hand for a moment as Nickie hid a smile behind his mouth. Maverick shot Nickie a joking smile before straightening up in his seat.

“But you’re doing good in school, Nickie?”

“Pretty well. Pre-calc is kicking my butt, but I think it’s supposed to get better.”

“Well, don’t be afraid to enjoy your teenage years a bit. Don’t go rushing off to try and grow up before your time,” Maverick replied, glancing over at his daughter for a moment. “Besides, I thought that you were going to try out for the surf team.”

“They want me to,” Nickie agreed, taking a bite of his dinner. “Mom’s a little scared to let me do it.”

“I just think that baseball is safer,” Cora replied softly, reaching for her drink. “Besides, between swim and water polo, you’re going to turn into a prune, Nickie. Not to mention that you go out sailing with Penny and Amelia all the time.”

“I just like the water, Mom,” Nickie stated, missing the pained expression on Cora’s face. “And besides, the baseball coach is an asshole.”

“Language,” Cora stressed, causing Maverick to chuckle.

~~~~~

After dinner, Nickie excused himself to finish up his homework. Cora and Maverick worked together to clean up after dinner and to set up the spare room for Maverick to sleep in while he was in town. But after the finished up the housekeeping, the father and daughter sat out on the back porch. Cora poured herself a glass of wine for the conversation and brought Maverick a beer.

“So, why are you really in town?” Cora asked, sitting down.

“Ice called me in,” Maverick stated, causing Cora to grow more serious instantly. “It’s a mission.”

“And not just any mission . . . is it?” Cora questioned, though she already knew the answer.

Ice wouldn’t have called Maverick in for just your run of the mill mission. This was a serious mission, that was certain. And that instantly caused Cora’s blood pressure to spike in an instant. Ice wouldn’t have called Maverick in unless it was something bordering on a suicide mission.

“No, it’s not,” Maverick agreed, nodding solemnly.

He looked away from his daughter for a moment, a rock settling in his stomach. It had been sitting there since a familiar face flashed on the screen in that conference room. But he knew that he had to unload it sooner rather than later.

To say that Maverick’s perspective on Rooster was complicated did not quite do it justice.

On one hand, as Cora’s father and Nickie’s grandfather, there was nothing that Maverick wanted to do more than to grab Rooster by his ear and give him the lecture of the century about responsibility and putting his personal emotions to the side to be a man and a father. Hell, if it was any other boy who did that to Cora, Maverick would have strapped him to the outside of the Darkstar and done a couple laps around the Earth.

But, on the other, as Goose’s wingman and the man who tried to raise Rooster, Maverick wanted Rooster nowhere near Miramar or this mission. Hell, Maverick did what he could to make sure that Rooster stayed as far away from a cockpit as possible. And that side of Maverick just wanted Rooster back in his life, safe and far from danger.

But being Cora’s father and Nickie’s grandfather was always the side that won out in the end.

“There’s something else,” Maverick began, causing Cora’s eyebrows to furrow with concern. “He’s involved in the mission.” Cora noticeably tensed up as Maverick added, “He’s here.”

“In Miramar?” Cora asked quietly, earning a nod from her dad. Sighing, she held her head in her hands for a moment. “Fuck.”

“Did you tell Nickie—”

“—No,” Cora interjected, cutting Maverick off. “No, I didn’t.” Not . . . not the whole story." She stared out at the backyard, out at the little swing set that Maverick and Ice built for Nickie on a warm afternoon so many years ago. “He’s supposed to be out in the middle of the Atlantic right now.”

“And I’m supposed to be in the Mojave.”

Nickie sat with his back to the wall, silently listening in on his mom’s conversation with his grandfather. He knew that it was wrong and he knew that he was already on thin ice with the speeding ticket, but he knew that his mom and his grandfather went outside to talk where he couldn’t hear them. But his mom always seemed to forget that the bathroom window was right above the patio.

“Have you seen him yet?” Cora inquired quietly, causing Maverick to nod slowly.

“Yeah, I did. Briefly. At the Hard Deck.”

“Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so, no,” Maverick replied, shaking his head.

Cora let out another sigh and held her head in her hands again. Maverick quickly got up from his seat, setting aside his beer and pulling his daughter into a tight hug. Cora latched onto her dad, trying to calm herself down and not shed anymore tears over Bradley Bradshaw.

But she failed. Just like she did the last thousand times.

Nickie clenched his eyes shut and curled his hands into fists. His mom was the strongest person that he knew. Life threw a thousand things at her and she somehow always managed to keep herself and him on their feet. But the second that anyone brought up his dad, she always flipped a switch.

She always broke down or went into absolute survival mode until something else snapped her out of it.

Nickie stopped asking about his dad when he overheard his mom sobbing to Penny in the middle of the night about how his dad still wouldn’t return her calls. It happened years ago, nearly a decade now, but it was still fresh in his mind. Burned there for the rest of his life. And, well, if his dad couldn’t even give his mom three seconds of his life, then Nickie wouldn’t give him an ounce of energy either.

And, hell, Nickie was a mama’s boy. And anyone who made his mom cry was dead to him. Dad or not, the fucker who never showed up for him or his mom was dead to Nicholas Peter Mitchell.

Whoever the hell he was.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Epilogue

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genevievefangirl · 1 month ago

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Gen's Top 100 DBDA Fics - PART 5

For all caveats/rules/backstory, please read the Master Post

if i could hold you for a minute By: hyperfixationbox @finleycannotdraw Rating: T Tags: Touch Starved, First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Friends to Lovers Summary: "The truth was, simply, that Edwin had never been hugged, in all his years of life and his decades as a ghost. His parents were faceless, formless haunts, more of a suggestion than a memory, and Hell didn’t exactly boast a comfortable or affectionate climate. Charles, though he was a very touchy person, always laying a hand on Edwin’s arm or nudging him with his knee, hadn’t ever hugged him until that night in Port Townsend. And Edwin couldn’t get it out of his head." - Edwin is touch-starved. Charles is touchy. They eventually reach the obvious conclusion, after talking about their pasts, their insecurities, their feelings, and what they mean to each other. This is a story about honesty, closure, comfort, and (of course) love!! My Notes: Touch starved Edwin who just wants to be hugged? Throw in some trauma, cuddles, and feelings realization and a great fic is born.

If I Should Die Before I Wake By: ThatMerryWandererOfTheNight The7thPlinth on twitter Rating: T Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Edwin and Charles are telling each other stories about heroes, gods, and monsters. But not everything is as it seems. What creature is lurking on the edges of their perception? And do stories have the power to change reality? This is my contribution to Day 2 of Painland Week 2024, Myths & Legends My Notes: This one was like a punch to the gut. It was a little confusing at first, but every subsequent reread gets better and better! The twist broke my heart! If the boys going through emotional trauma is your thing, this is the fic for you!

Impetuous Decisions In An Emergency By: DryadGurrl @dryadgurrl Rating: T Tags: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Edwin is injured on a case, Charles goes a little feral and a lot scared, returned feelings are realized and everyone makes it out okay. or: 'The Case of the Infested Foundry' My Notes: Something about Edwin getting a hook in his shoulder really does it for me. Maybe there is something wrong with me lol

in the name of love and something deeper still By: imnotcryingipromise Rating: T Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: "No, I- I think it's sweet that you care about him -that you want to protect him or his feelings or whatever- but you can't be alone forever for his sake," Crystal explains, panically. Charles drops the girl's wrists then, turning his whole body away from her, the way a chided dog might cower in its cage. "Maybe I can. I definitely feel like being alone right now," he snaps. *** In which, during a romantic rendezvous, an obviously distracted Charles Rowland, admits to Crystal that he cannot stop thinking about Edwin. Expectedly, an argument ensues, leading to a startling realisation for the ghost boy. My Notes: Charles realizes that he loves Edwin, while snogging Crystal (ouch). He really does have the worst timing sometimes.

It Was Worth A Wound By: ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero) @ahyperactivehero Rating: T Tags: Werewolf, Case Fic, Protective Edwin Payne, Protective Charles Rowland, Hurt/Comfort Summary: Charles and Edwin take on a case with a werewolf and everything goes wrong. Or right, depending on how you look at it. Charles gets hurt and he realizes exactly how strong Edwin Payne can be. (And maybe realizes he thinks his best mate is kind of hot along the way.) Day 3 of Painland Week- First Kiss/ Love Confession My Notes: Edwin getting all protective when Charles is hurt makes my heart happy.

It's Nice To Have a Friend By: Captain_Kieren Rating: T Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Hurt Edwin, Protective Charles Rowland, Whump Summary: Charles and Crystal get Edwin out of the witch's house and take him home to recover. They're all shaken and drowning in grief, and some words need to be said. (A missing scene from episode 8.) My Notes: I love me some Edwin whump and this certainly qualifies. The trio dealing with all their emotions and trauma after Esther is very important to me and I love when fics explore it.

it's not fair how much i love you By: AWorldOnFire @aworldonfire Rating: G Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Charles loves Edwin so much it's almost unbearable. "There’s always been something special about seeing Edwin sleep. His face relaxes and, without fail, his curls seem find a way to escape whatever ghostly force has kept them permanently flattened to his head since his death. Edwin becomes slack and peaceful; the tension leaves his body and there’s nothing Charles can do to escape his gravity." My Notes: Another fic that bends the ghost rules so we can get sleep fics! The thought of them having a room in Crystal's flat with a bed in it is the sweetest thing ever!

just because it hurts, doesn't mean you're gonna die By: SuchASeeweedBrain @daffietjuh Rating: M Tags: AU - The Old Guard, AU - Immortal, Protective Charles Rowland Summary: Crystal dies on a Tuesday afternoon. It feels so stupid. Who dies on a boring, gloomy, grey Tuesday afternoon in May? or The characters from DBD are not dead (sort of) but they do die a lot. Crystal is very confused, Charles would like to punch anyone who looks at Edwin wrong, Edwin would like to catch a break at some point this century and Niko is just happy to have made another friend. My Notes: I read this before I saw the Old Guard movie it is based on, but that did not hinder my enjoyment of it whatsoever! This really was such a fun ride! I mean, immortal characters on the run with a side of protective Charles? Yes please!

just frame the halves (and call them brothers) By: Anonymous Rating: T Tags: Case Fic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Edwin's Family Dynamics Summary: Walter R. Payne died one hundred and nine years ago in France. Walter R. Payne has not left France since, nor has his fellow soldiers. That is until a young psychic offers to help them move on. And better yet, the psychic knows Walter’s younger brother who he was not seen in over a century. Edwin Payne has was killed one hundred and eight years ago. It was not in active combat, like he expected. He never even made it into the army. He died in his school, and spent over half a century in Hell for it. Edwin has changed a lot in the last century, and he’s been perfectly content to ignore the memories of his short life in favor of his new afterlife. Until, a new case comes up involving his older brother. My Notes: I loved how this fic characterized the Payne family and Edwin's relationship to his parents and siblings. The outside POV was also very well done; it is nice to get a fresh perspective in fics. I find the Payne family so interesting as characters and this fic delivered on giving them the depth I crave.

lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate By: KiaraSayre @starsandatoms Rating: M Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Edwin in Hell, Angst, Aftermath of Torture, Edwin & Crystal are Besties Summary: Edwin is in Hell. Nothing is as it seems. My Notes: This is a very dark fic exploring Edwin's time in Hell with an interesting twist. If you love the relationship between Crystal and Edwin then this is the fic for you, they get a lot of time together in this.

That's the first 50 fics! Hope you guys are having as much fun with this as I am!

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clayvedevs · 5 months ago

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ATP Hunger Games Simulator

With relatively little tournaments going on now post-wimbledon, i've decided that the next best thing is to watch the atp top 25 (minus rat) fight to the death in the hunger games. Since that's also not an option, i'm left just simulating what would happen if they were in the hunger games. So without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, meet the cast:

And it's lights out and away we go!

Day 1

And already, there are casualties. Local american idiots Ben Shelton and Taylor Fritz team up to fight brit Jack Draper and honorary brit Alex de Minaur. Unfortunately, Ben and Taylor don't make it. Rip american idiots. You found each other in every universe.

As the day goes on, we don't see any more casualties. However, faa is pricked by thorns, which is about the most action so far. Oh and Hubi sparing Lorenzo's life like the gentleman he is. Daniil with explosives, a great combination i'm sure. As night falls, 2 cannon shots can be heard in the distance. Rip Ben Shelton and Taylor Fritz.

Night 1

Some very interesting groups. Not sure why Lorenzo would want to hang out with the guy who just defeated him in a fight, but it's his decision. No more deaths yet. Sebastian Baez is a mood.

Day 2

Novak Djokovic with a spear is something that everyone should be afraid of. But having said that, it is Jack Draper who kills Felix Auger Aliassime, who evidently has not recovered from his earlier thorn prick. Jack - 3, everyone else - 0. A cannon can be heard in the distance. Felix Auger Aliassime, taken from us too soon.

Night 2

Everyone prefers night matches apparently, because all the action is happening at night! Both Chileans fall at the hands of the ruthless Sebastian Korda and the merciless Andrey Rublev respectively. Rip Chile, you had to put clothes on eventually. Alex de Minaur has opted to keep Lorenzo Musetti alive. This is the 2nd time someone could have killed Lore but his puppy dog eyes must have won them over. Will this come back to bite him in the arse? Honestly, i wouldn't need much convincing to snuggle up with Alexander Bublik.

Day 3

Hubi the gentle giant not so gentle, forcing Bublik to kill Karen. If i was Sebastian Korda, i too would question my sanity. I wouldn't even have to be in the hunger games. Alex keeps letting people live, which is nice of him, but what other chance are you gonna get to eliminate the threat that is Novak? Biggest news though, the number 1 seed is out! Yes, Jannik Sinner has been killed at the hands of Sebastian Baez. 4 cannon shots can be heard for the Chileans, Karen and Jannik.

Night 3

Not much to say here, except that Tommy Paul might have an infection, Stefanos is thirdwheeling ruru, and Jack shows mercy for once. Also, i've heard Novak sing in that backhand boys video, and he didn't have the worst vocals.

Day 4

A lot of sanities being questioned. Tommy Paul tried to be too clever and it has backfired on him. Sebastian Korda is the last North American standing. In a repeat of the Dubai semi finals this year, Ugo Humbert has taken down Daniil Medvedev. Is the arena filled with clay? Sebastian Baez seems to be enjoying himself though. And glad to see Andrey try to fix his sleep schedule. 2 cannon shots for Tommy and Daniil.

Night 4

Another night, another Tsitsipas rizz masterclass. First cuddling with Sascha, now holding hands with Jack. In revenge of the Acapulco final, Casper kills Alex. Between this and Daniil, mouse man nation has truly crumbled.

Day 5

It seems like his age is finally catching up with Novak, whose ankle gives out after a chase by the fitter Andrey. After scaring him in Day 4, Holger doesn't finish the job and spares Korda. Maybe he felt bad for the jumpscare? But in a huge twist of events, evidently Bublik hasn't gotten over Hubi forcing him to kill Karen, so he enlists the help of Carlos to get revenge. Poor baby Casper is pricked by thorns. I wonder how he'll fare?

Everyone has failed their mandatory drug test and begins to hallucinate. Sebastian Korda wins the Sebastian Derby, and there goes Latin America's last hope. Both Carlos and Novak die hugging tracker jacker nests. Maybe it's a grand slam winner thing? Also Lorenzo and Holger attempt to run away to wonderland together, but their doomed love story ends there. At least they died together. I know the French eat snails but apparently they also eat scorpions too. And this one is a doozy. A whopping 8 cannon shots can be heard for Alex de Minaur, Hubi Hurkacz, Sebastian Baez, Carlos Alcaraz, Lorenzo Musetti, Holger Rune, Novak Djokovic and Ugo Humbert. At this point, i'm beginning to get scared that Sebastian Korda might actually win this thing.

Night 5

Korda continues his reign of terror, taking out Bublik. Grigor dares to dream, something that he hasn't done in a long time. Probably.

And it's time for the feast!

Oh my! Andrey Rublev has always been a wanted man, but now it seems like he's wanted more than ever, and not in a good way. Grigor doesn't go to the feast. At least he didn't see his lover die.

Day 6

Grigor goes and takes revenge for Andrey's murder, but ultimately decides against going through with it. 2 cannon shots can be heard. Rip Alexander Bublik and Andrey Rublev.

Night 6

Poor Grigor, still haunted by his dead lover. And here's another weird statistic for the atp, tree related deaths - 2. You heard that right ladies and gentlemen. Two people have died from tree related incidents: Jack from falling out of a tree and Sebastian Korda from being stabbed by a tree branch. Ouch. At least his reign of terror is now over.

So, who is still alive?

After flopping on the atp tour for these past months, Casper Ruud, Stefanos Tsitsipas and Grigor Dimitrov suddenly find themselves with a chance at victory. Will it be the iceman Casper Ruud who will find himself winning a title bigger than a 250? Will the balding, bisexual, Bulgarian Grigor Dimitrov win his 2nd title since 2017? Or will Stefanos "daddy issues" Tsitsipas prove that he can win without on-court coaching? Stay tuned to find out.

Day 7

Casper goes back to his Scandi roots and builds a shack worthy of rivaling ikea furniture. 1hbh off and Grigor runs away, knowing he can't shank the ball as well as Stefanos can. 2 shots can be heard for Jack Draper and Sebastian Korda.

Night 7

Stefanos wasn't invited to the cuddle party. The shock of that was too much for him and he passed out. Not fatally though.

Day 8

Stefanos, in awe of Grigor's backhand and slice, knows he cannot compete with him, begs to be killed. Grigor keeps him alive anyway.

Night 8

If this were another genre, it'd be the start of a smutty threesome. But it's the hunger games, so two of these men are gonna be dead come tomorrow.

Day 9

And what's this? Grigor Dimitrov has died from thirst. What a way to go though. And Casper Ruud from district 4, killing off his title contender for king of flopping, has won the hunger games! Congrats king, i hope you win a real title soon.

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sn00pism · 7 months ago

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Reo’s such a cutie patootie, have any ideas for reo fluff? :))

Hi! omg I agree so much! I do believe he needs therapy though.. (tbh all of them need it, maybe except Isagi??)I don't know if you wanted headcannons or a full fic, but I'm happy to expand on this!

Every second of every minute (I want to spend by your side)

Mikage Reo x reader, as per requested.

He's your biggest supporter!

He's also your hypeman!

TOTAL SIMP

He has to wake up early to train but sometimes ends up being late for wanting to spend five more minutes in bed with you

His styled hair ends up all disheveled

(Nagi teases him for it later, but who has a girlfriend? and who doesn't? aha, that's what he thought)

Makes breakfast before he leaves too

(really just buys you something cause homeboy doesn't really know how to cook. He's taking classes though, so sometimes you'll wake up to blueberry pancakes and a coffee (or tea))

Makes sure you're healthy and gets happy when you tag along to his trips to the gym or on walks.

Tries really HARD to make your parents or friends to get to like him.

(Goes overboard on the gifts and you have to hide his card from him to avoid that. If you can, that is.)

On that note, he spoils you as much as he can. He knows your love can't be bought and that your relationship isn't transactional but he just can't help buying you that plushie you told him you wanted the other day... or those earrings... or that book... Or the whole merch section of your favourite character.

Loves it when you wear his jersey to his games, his number on the back along with the big, bold letters spelling out 'MIKAGE'

He really hopes one day he'll get to pull out that ring that's been sitting on the pocket of one of his most expensive coats.

Mikage Reo loves you with all his heart because he knows you love him unconditionally. You've proved that much to him. Staying next to him even on his worst days.

"Reo? you leaving already?" Reo's heart shakes as he sees you slightly lift your head from the pillows, hair slightly disheveled and sleepy eyes, puffy from the sleep. A warm smile creeps up on his face.

"Yeah, big practice today, game's tomorrow, love" You nod sleepily, blinking up at him. "You'll be late today?" You ask as you yawn, hiding your face on the pillows.

He sighs, nodding, "Yeah... I'm sorry, pretty..." You smile at him, warm, understanding, "It's okay..." You reach to grasp his hand as he sits on the bed. "At least I get to see you play tomorrow" You raise his hand to kiss his hand, right on his ring finger. Reo melts.

"Mhm.." He checks his watch and makes a quick decision, motioning you to scoot over. You see right through him. "Oh no no, no, Reo, baby, no" You refuse to move but Reo is stronger, although his hold is gentle with you, and soon enough he's got you cuddled up, head on his chest, cologne invading your nose. A mix of jazmin and vanilla, not overpowering but nice, comforting. It's hard to not melt into his embrace.

"You'll be late, Reo.." You nudge him over but he doesn't budge.

"I've got.." He checks his watch again, "A few more minutes..." He hugs you tighter, kissing the top of your head "I jus' wanna have some more time with the love of my life, don't push me away, yeah?" You sigh into his chest and nod, "Few minutes, love, then off you go"

He nods, little did you know, he woke up an hour earlier than usual today, just to have a few more minutes with you. After all, you're what gets him through his rigorous training, you're the reason he gets up and faces his day with the goal of being the best. The best for you. Even if he already knows, you've told him so many times, that he is the best in your eyes.

You're the reason why, the next day, after finding you in the crowd, wearing his jersey, his number, his surname, he scores at least 3 out of the 5 goals that makes his team win.

After all, there is a shiny little thing stuffed away in his sweater that's laying near his bottle on the field. A little thing that will bound you guys together forever, as he's sure you're the one.

He just hopes you say yes.

I hope you liked this little blurb I pushed out of my tiny, university squished brain! I'm kind of getting back into writing so it may not make much sense and I'm also studying about script writing via Youtube so I'm sorry if it isn't the most coherent thing out there! I listened to 'A real hero' by College & Electric youth. The vibes were just immaculate if I'm honest.

#blue lock #bllk #bllk headcanons #bllk x y/n #blue lock scenarios #mikage reo #reo mikage #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #reo x you

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docholligay · 2 months ago

Text

Bozeman Half Marathon 2024

The race starts at 8. The shuttle drops us off at 6:55.

There was a little bit of fucking around too close to start time, so we ended up in the back of the pack. As I break over the start line, it’s immediately clear to me that I am behind people who are shooting for a 2:30 or more time, which is so beautiful and hope they had the best time but all of my encouragements to newer or slower runners immediately die away in a wave of “get the fuck out of my way.” I have never bobbed and weaved as I did here, and I get afraid that I’ll lose my pacer, because I am trying so hard to just get get out of the fracas.

Mile 3. I call out, “What are we sitting at?” “9:05” comes the answer. I’ve been fucking around too much, and make a breakaway in between two runners in front of me. I’ve got to hit harder than this.

My pacer grabs his stomach and steps off to the side.

You’re a beautiful person, but this ain’t ‘nam, and I’m leaving your ass. I will buy you a drink later, salutations and good luck.

I actually start running faster at this point--i hadn’t realized how much I was holding back because I sensed he was struggling and I didn’t want to leave him in the dust. I need something to pace me. My stryd isn’t connecting, i don’t even have a timer watch, and I didn’t set my music to time me like I usually do, until the tornado siren. There are two girls in matching outfits, including pink banana shorts. They’re the ones. They look fast.

If it were not for them, I don’t know that I would have been able to get it back, because they got me into a rhythm of running about a 8:30 mile for two miles, which gave me a huge cushion. Mile 4 and 5 were entirely on their pink-festooned backs. They stopped for water mid Mile 6, and i kept going.

Mile 7: What the fuck have I done wrong in my life, and why is it being visited upon me, the sweetest and most innocent of human beings, right now? There is a long, slow, plodding hill.

There is a moment, in every race I have ever run, called, “What the fuck is my problem?” It is very important to get over the ‘What the fuck is my problem?” hump, because it is my own personal Jesus being tempted by Satan in the desert, with the idea of walking and giving up. Why would I, a sane woman with a loving family, think about running 13 miles and change full send? Did I think that would be fun? What about my life up to that point made me think it would be fun?

We have to attack this little demon inside us. We can always doubt the wisdom of our decisions later, but for now, the only way out is through, and my only reward for slowing down is that I have to be on the course longer.

I round the corner, no longer on the hill, and then from behind me, the sound of a truck, and a voice I ahven’t heard in a while:

“C’mon Doc, let’s fuckin go! It ain’t that far!” I look to my left, and it’s my buddy Jake! I haven’t seen him in a couple years, and he must have figured out it was me by sheer chance of “I bet that little red headed dyke in the unicorn shorts is Doc. She loves to run” and he is correct! He bangs twice on the side of his BLM truck, laughs, revs his engine at me, and drives on down the course.

This carries me for a solid two miles. If your family has been in Montana for as long as both of ours have, it’s hard to hide from each other. Do i want to come across as a little bitch to Jake? Do i want to tell him it was just too fucking hard? Fuck no.

The Tracer voice inside me, “What’s the worst that could ‘appen? Push it!” “We die?” “Not a problem we’d ave to deal with!”

I push. I go. I fly through the cross country kids handing out water. I’m trying to pace myself beside runners just a little ahead of me, runners that look fast and also infuriatingly casual in their matching banana shorts and pink tank tops. They hold me on for the next few miles, but as they start into their negative splits (Unfortunately, they not only look fast, they are fast) they begin to leave me behind.

I have heard the half marathon called “10 decent miles and then the worst 5k of your life” and for me, at the very least, that seems to hold true. I am getting exhausted by the time I hit mile ten, and my form is falling apart. I like like one of those inflatable noodle men, running down the street, limbs flopping. My body is swinging wildly, which is costing me energy, but I can’t stop myself. I’m getting tired mentally and physically.

In the middle of mile 11, I hit a pothole. I’m not watching what I’m doing, my foot goes directly onto the lip of the pothole and I go careening forward. I know it’s a cliche to say things happen in slow motion, but I swear it must have taken me ten seconds to fall. I had time to think about how I absolutely did not want to hurt my knee, so I, with a reasonable amount of stupidity, put my arm out straight, which keen-eyed viwers will note is a great way to break your wrist. I didn’t, so, unearned victory for me, but I slammed down hard into the asphalt, and threw myself onto my hip.

A struggled for a minute, and then, as I held up my hand to stand, someone grabs it, without breaking his stride at all, and yanks me to my feet.

“We’re fucking doing this!” he yells to me.

And then he continues on. I could have given up, and my pride and my time are badly hurt, but having that moment gives it all back to me. I might not be able to run this in time, but I can run it to the end, and not give up. Giving up isn’t what I do.

Unfortunately, to be the people we tell ourselves we are, we have to make the choices that make us those people. If I am a runner, who doesn’t give up. I need to both run, and not give up. Annoying.

So I keep on. By the time we reach the city proper, I am in mile 12 of 13, and I am well and truly suffering. It hurts so bad, and I want to stop, but I can’t stop, because I am so close, and how much would I hate myself to run all this way and give up now? I can’t walk. I have to keep going.

The tornado siren goes off in my ear. I have ten minutes to cross the finish line before losing my goal. I haven’t hit the final mile yet. This is bad. But the only way to get there faster, is to run faster. I have no idea what I drew on in that moment. But I find something deep inside me, and I yank it out and throw it on the road.

I go down the final pull, praying, waiting for the final turn, where I can see the finish line. That always gives me something more, sets off a firework inside me.

There’s a gal with a sign by the side of the road that says, “ ***ing finish so we can drink!” and, again, it is only through the encouragement of strangers that I have made it through this race at all. I point at her sign and smile, and she yells to me, “You know what I’m talking about! Fuck yeah! Go! Go!”

This last mile is one of the hardest of my life. I just keep having to chant, ‘Right, left, repeat. Right, left, repeat.”

The final turn! I can see the finish line, I only have to run three more stoplights before I make it. I can do it. I kick on the afterburner. I am so close. I’m almost there.

My heart falls when I see the timer. 1:57:40. I’ve already failed. There’s no way I can cross the finish line in 15 seconds. Or can’t I? Fuck it, whatever, I will maybe not make it, but I will run as hard as I can. My hip is screaming, my form is the worst it has ever been, and I don’t care about absolutely fucking any of that, because if I cross even one second under, I will have made PR.

I go.

I cross the finish line, wobbling, half limping, about to throw up. I’ve made my time goal by about 3 seconds. Great. That’s enough. The guy giving out the medals is nice enough to come over and put it on my neck, because I look like I’m suffering as much as I am. The text comes through.

I COMPLETELY FORGOT IT TOOK ME NEARLY A MINUTE TO CROSS THE START LINE. I have made my time by a full goddamn MINUTE. My joy is total. I would jump up and down screaming but I do not have even the slightest amount of energy for any of that. I have a can of champagne in my drop bag, and I am going to go get that, and crush it.

Someday, I’ll stop setting PR, but today is not that day.

Video evidence of my extremely bad finish: You can tell how much I'm favoring my hip, which is making me swing my body WILDLY.

#doc runs

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lemon-natalia · 4 months ago

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Nona the Ninth Reaction - John 5:4

Harrow!!! ❤️❤️ my girl is back!! i know she’s technically been here all the time in John’s chapters, but like. it’s nice to have actual confirmation

i’m pretty sure i have a grasp on the soul-swapping shenanigans here: Alecto’s consciousness/soul as Nona has been in Harrow’s body, and vice versa. meanwhile Gid’s soul is back with her original (but still dead) body. okay, it was hard to figure out throughout the book but doesn't actually seem too complicated i don’t think

‘“What does it mean to love God” “Decent dinner and a bottle of rose” why is John quite literally the worst person to discuss theology with

that being said, his description here about the love of God being essentially trusting that you won't be alone is interesting. i’m mildly sleep deprived right now and not really capable of thinking about the significance of it too much honestly, but this description really reminds me to some extent of how the bond between a necromancer and a cavalier is kind of shown to be in GtN - trusting someone absolutely, having someone that you can rely on

‘Even G—. In fact G— will be the easiest - he won’t remember the compound’ ohhhh is THAT why he needed G—'s arm??? so that he could still resurrect him even though he got nuked. i wonder if the fact that John didn’t have to wipe his memories has anything to do with how Pyrrha can apparently remember something about the past, given she’s in G1deon’s body rn

and the slight contradiction Harrow calls him out on here seems like a nice hint about how John might not be the most reliable narrator. i don’t know if he’s outright lied about anything, or he’s at least telling what he believes to be the truth, but i don’t trust that what we’ve heard is the full story or exactly how things went down

the contrast between Alecto only being afraid of dying vs Nona who has her own complicated feelings, but has largely accepted it, is really striking

‘There can be no forgiveness for those who walked away’ buddy the people that you want revenge on are dead and gone. also to add to the parallels of the Lyctors being his ‘fingers’ while the Heralds are the extensions of the RB’s and their ‘Hand [and] thumb’, John’s whole ceaseless and unsatisfying quest for revenge sounds a whole lot like the Resurrection Beasts themselves. which i do have to wonder, obviously John wanted revenge prior to absorbing Alecto’s soul, but how much of that now is due to him and how much is due to having literally partially eaten the soul of a Resurrection Beast

it is a dream sequence, so i can get that its going to be hazy and make no sense, but i’m curious about what John’s perspective is here, and his motivations for talking about this to Harrow. at certain points throughout these chapters he sounds like he’s talking pre-Resurrection, but then here he’s having a full on conversation with Harrow and knows it’s her

wooooh time for Harrow to go on the necromantic equivalent of a yoga trip of self-discovery

i also like that it’s Harrow’s own decision to walk away from John here. she’s a character who has had this very rigid belief system in large part due to her upbringing, and its nice that she’s deciding to find out what God means for herself

and yep, the final message from the chapter title numbers is ‘THE TOWER HAS REACTIVATED’. and now Harrow’s walking away from John towards some kind of mysterious grey tower. i’m assuming there’s going to be something significant at the top, but i can't for the life of me guess what

and there’s an awful lot of questions surrounding it’s existence even. here Harrow is turning away from John to walk towards it, but him naming Ianthe and Kiriona the Tower Princes suggests that he already knew about it, or even had some kind of hand in creating it? or maybe it’s something to do with what went down at Canaan House with the og Lyctors, which is still a remarkably vague/mysterious period of time. and if it’s reactivated, why now of all times - something to do with Alecto’s soul being moved to Nona? and of course on top of all that there’s Judith’s extremely ominous comment about things coming out of it

despite being nearly another full book into the series, things Harrowhark Nonagesimus presumably still does not know after the events of HtN:

that John is Gideon’s dad

presumably, that the weird ghost that was haunting her via Cytherea was Gideon’s mum

both Mercy and Augustine are dead

that Pyrrha, yknow, still exists

that Gideon is still around in the form of Kiriona Gaia, and has fully joined the Cohort and John

#lemon natalia reads the locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb #the locked tomb liveblog #nona the ninth #finally managed to get this post out #sorry about the wait but i unfortunately just haven't been too motivated lately

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theflyindutchwoman · 9 months ago

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What did you think of Nolan,Bailey and their storyline this episode ? And the episode of their wedding ?

Let me preface this by saying that if you are a fan of Bailey & Nolan, you might not want to read my answer. As always, this is only personal. I mean no disrespect to anyone who loves this pairing.

I have reached a point where I simply couldn't care less about these two. I can't even say I hate them or anything. I just… don't care. And that's pretty much how I felt about their wedding storyline - from the proposal to the honeymoon. On the bright side, I did like her dress and her vows. That's it. Oh and the bachelor/bachelorette parties… But they weren't even the focus : it was more about Tim and Lucy than Bailey and Nolan.

If anything, that whole wedding storyline encapsulates everything that bother me with this pairing. It was completely over the top, too cliché. Instead of focusing on one or two problems so they could be properly developed, it almost felt like the writers used all the tropes they could think of for drama's sake. Now, it wouldn't be so bad if it were the first or second time. But these two, somehow, always find themselves in these unbelievable situations… to the point that it becomes more boring than entertaining since it never leads to anything substantial. I know it's a show and I expect some drama but I need some balance too. If the writers can't be bothered to give them some depth, why should I care? I mean, awesome, they can fight (and I love me some good old Battle Couple Trope). But what about the character development?

Like the proposal. It happened right after a huge traumatic moment for both Nolan and Bailey. And all we got was John crying for a total of 5 seconds. Show me the struggle and the guilt he had to feel for not pulling the trigger and thinking he had lost the love of his life. I'm not saying that he was right or wrong. But I need to see him dealing with the consequence of that decision. And what about Bailey? How did she feel about being targeted, about dying and about John's choice? We don't know. And if that wasn't bad enough, her death was treated as a running joke one episode later. Compare this to Tim's feeling of guilt for pushing Lucy to go on that date… to Lucy's feeling of guilt for Chris being targeted by Rosalind… to Chris' struggle with his trauma. We got none of that for John and Bailey and they're supposed to be the main couple.

And that's exactly the same issue with the wedding and honeymoon. So many things went wrong but that was it. Well, to be fair, maybe we'll see Bailey and Nolan struggle with almost getting killed (again) in the next episodes… But I'm not holding my breath. Their honeymoon was the worst for me : the lack of passion was absolutely jarring… It's a freaking honeymoon! Why would they spend so much time focused on their cameras and weird neighbours?! Are they this bored of each other? (the way it was filmed didn't help at all).

#ask & ye shall receive #the rookie #I'm not sure how to tag this #but I don't want to upset anyone who likes this pairing so I won't tag the characters just in case

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spinchip · 9 months ago

Text

NEVER THE DARK

Chapter 15

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

warnings: Character death

I LOVE WHAT I DO NOT HAVE. YOU ARE SO FAR. // MY LOATHING WRESTLES WITH THE SLOW TWILIGHTS.

“She’s already seen you face, why does it matter if she knows your name?” Kai asis from where he’s still sprawled across the front of Miss Emma.

Birdy sits down heavily, his back to the group, “it does not matter." He says simply, but there’s a slump to his shoulders that telegraphs defeat. Hopelessness. Nya knows that this is bad. "All that matters is getting you to the Mountain of Madness.”

Miss Emma floats on. Jay has stopped shocking her, collapsed on top of her bell tiredly as Kai keeps them moving. No one says anything. Over time, Miss Emma begins to droop again. When Jay gives her another shock, she just seems to lower herself quicker to the ground.

“She wants us off.” Nya realizes as the jelly's tentacles pool along the ground under them.

“We are a heavy burden for her to carry.” Birdy agrees.

They are passing over a forest- this one is a menagerie of blues, reds, and purples. The grass is a dark teal and white flowers and tall tubes protrude from the earth. Miss Emma drops low enough in a clearing that they can jump off without getting hurt and stops completely, waiting.

“Thank you.” Birdy says quietly to the animal. Kai pets her bell as a gesture of appreciation, and they all slide off her and onto the forest floor. The moment there are no more hitch-hikers on her bell, Miss Emma slowly drifts away, flying high enough to disappear into the clouds.

There's a long, tense moment as no one knows what to do next.

“We should keep moving.” Birdy says softly.

“She was telling us the truth, wasn’t she?” Kai asks bluntly.

Lloyd steps forward, “Kai-” He starts but Birdy cuts him off.

“What did she tell you?”

Kai locks eyes with Birdy and the air grows thick with tension.

It’s Jay who speaks next, “Barath told me you murdered Farley. He said that you were a warlord in your past life, and that you had committed crimes among the worst of all the people banished here.”

“Genocide.” Kai clarifies, “Destruction of land, culture, food. Untold numbers of death and destruction. Samira told me about how you’ve kept trophies of those you killed. Your mask, your knife… all belonging to the dead.”

Nya can’t help her own need to know the truth and she speaks up next, “Wox told me you were dangerous. That the respect these people have for you is based in fear and hatred.”

Cole hesitates, “And Ila said you walked into Oasis the day after you killed Farley covered in his blood.”

“All true.” Birdy doesn’t hesitate to confirm it. “You were right in the throne room, Kai. I am a monster.”

“Birdy-!” Lloyd whips around to face him, appalled, “No!”

Birdy squares his shoulders, “No, Lloyd. I must take accountability. I cannot run from this.'' He doesn’t break eye contact with Kai, “This is who I am, yes, but I have no ill will towards you all. Samira was right that I know how important you are to Ninjago too, and I will not allow my home realm to go unprotected and vulnerable without you. I belong here, in this place, but you do not. I will get you home, I swear it.'' His voice takes on an edge of desperate honesty.

They were still so far from the Mountain of Madness. If they left Birdy here and tried to find it on their own, it could be ages before they got out of here.

Lloyd looks from Birdy to the others, waiting. It hits Nya that Lloyd is waiting on them to weigh in- he wants to hear what they all have to say. It’s not like Lloyd never asks what they think on large decisions of this nature, but ever since they lost Zane Lloyd had taken the full weight of leadership and had refused to share it with the rest of the team. He was the one who made decisions. He was the one who was always alone in that choice. Maybe he was tired of being alone.

Nya doesn’t know what to think.

Cole steps forward first and Nya knows his opinion well enough that she can tune him out, “I still trust him.” But when he speaks, she looks at Cole and really listens, taking in everything he says, “He wasn’t working with Samira. He wasn’t in cahoots with Maurice. Everything he’s done has been solely for us, at the detriment of himself.” He locks eyes with Birdy, “Maybe he did some bad things… some really bad things… but he’s trying to help us. It’s all he’s been trying to do. I don’t think he’s going to lead us astray. I still want him to guide us.”

There’s a pause after Cole finishes, “Cole is right.” Nya says aloud, finding the truth in her words. Everything Cole said made sense. Birdy had been on their side from day one- “He stopped Maurice before he even knew we were the elemental masters. He had no reason to do that, but he did.”

“You can’t be serious!” Jay gapes, “Didn’t you hear him? Confirmed murderer! Evil bad guy here!! How can you just take his side?”

“I’m not on anybody's side but ours,” Nya fires back immediately, “I may not be thrilled about putting my faith in a- former- dicator, but I want what’s best for us, and getting back to Ninjago as quickly as possible is exactly that.”

Jay looks down at that, thinking.

“I can’t follow him.” Kai says sourly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lloyd finally speaks up, “What Birdy did in the past-” He looks back at Birdy and pauses, face twisting as he hesitates on what to say next, “It wasn’t as black and white as it seems.” He settles on finally, “I trust him.”

There’s a heavy, tense silence. Lloyd meets Kai eyes, his expression imploring him to see sense.

“I don’t trust him.” Kai reiterates firmly. He closes his eyes with a grimace, “...But I do trust you. If you think this is the right call… then I do too.” he bites out begrudgingly.

“Fine.” Jay echoes, crossing his arms, “Let's go then.”

Birdy takes a moment to look around and get his bearings before he starts to walk, the others falling in line behind him. It's... awkward. He doesn’t speak much, only opening his mouth to warn them of obstacles, “Avoid the flowers,” He says, pointing to one of the numerous white flowers dotting the ground, “They tunnel into the ground. It is like stepping in a hole.”

Jay immediately steps in one and face plants, but he’s fine.

Nya start to notice that the plants they’re trekking through for this leg of the journey are strange, even for the Realm of Madness. Everything is coated in a thick waxy film and all of it is shaped like funnels or cups. Tall purple speckled plants with tube protrusions, green vase-like plants that grow as tall as her waist, huge pink and purple trees with tops like a sea anemone- and the plants she noticed that aren’t cup shaped have a sponge-like texture. Everything here is geared towards catching rain.

She looks inside one of the purple plant tubes and sees a small puddle at the very bottom, feeding into the stem. Raising her hand, she shoves at the liquid- but it doesn’t move.

“Birdy, what’s up with the water here?” She asks, pulling her hand away.

“It’s not water.” He answers stiffly, but she doesn’t think the discomfort is because of her. She’d noticed how still he’d seemed as they traveled deeper into the forest. There was something about this place that rattled him, “It’s acid.”

“ACID?” Jay squawks.

“It rains acid here,” Birdy says apologetically, “But we should be safe. It is the dry season.”

“I thought you said nothing was guaranteed in this place?”

“We need to move quickly.” He says bluntly.

As they hurry through the forest, Nya keeps an eye out for any potential dangers. That snake spider in the white forest had snuck up on them. She wasn’t keen on being surprised again. Because she’s looking towards the trees, she doesn’t notice everyone’s come to a stop until she runs into Cole.

“Oof-” She stumbles back, “Sorry- what happened? Why are we stopping?”

“I apologize.” Birdy says, emotionally flat where he’s standing in front of a large purple tree, “I was simply making sure we were on the right track.” When he starts moving again, he takes a wide step over something. As the others begin to move, Nya sees that the thing Birdy had stopped at and stepped over was a oblong dark spot on the grass. She’d seen a few of them before, scattered around the forest. She steps over it too but doesn’t ask about it. Birdy's voice had taken on that tone that comes when he’s not feeling like himself.

She blinks, surprised at herself for knowing that.

“If you don’t know where you’re going, then we should stop and take a break.” Kai says, pausing in the middle of that clearing underneath the tree's arching canopy, “We can keep going once you’ve got your head on straight.” he crosses his arms, planting himself firmly.

Birdy shakes his head, “I remember the way now. We should cover as much ground as possible today.” he says, voice toneless and disconnected. His body language is empty too, his shoulder slumped and his hands loose around his staff.

“I mean… we haven't had lunch.” Cole points out with a wry smile, “A quick snack break couldn’t hurt.”

“Do we have food? Or will we need to forage.” Nya asks.

“We have food. Cole hooked us up.” Jay says, slinging his backpack off and opening the top.

“I got Ila to make us some stuff for the road after… our talk.” He frowns, rubbing his chin, “I’m kinda surprised she did, actually… considering how they were plotting against us.”

“The food is safe. Ila is different from Samira.” He reassures them. There’s a thick pause. He hasn’t moved from the edge of the clearing, “We shouldn’t stop here.”

“Why? It’s the dry season, isn’t it?” Kai responds dryly, waving away a sandwich Jay offers him.

There’s a pause before Birdy stiffly sits down. “Alright.” He says blankly before he crosses his legs and gets into a classic meditation pose.

“You like to meditate?” Lloyd tilts his head.

“Sometimes.” Birdy doesn’t offer any additional information, and the group goes quiet as they eat and rest.

“So what’s the game plan when we get home? I mean, we don’t know anything about... Anything.” Nya turns to Lloyd.

He pauses mid-bite and frowns, “Well… we need to meet with Pix first and foremost. There’s no way she hasn’t been gathering intel in the time we’ve been gone. Mom might know something about that gauntlet and who might have gone after it, so we could go to the dig she’s on and ask her.”

“If we do that we gotta stop at home so I can get my gameboy.” Jay says immediately, “Do you know how long it’s been since I haven't played video games? I’m going through serious withdrawal here!”

Kai shoots him a withering stare that Jay is completely oblivious to.

“Well, as long as you don’t go pretending a piece of wood is a gameboy, then I’m not too worried about you.” Cole comments wryly.

“Oh, don’t tempt me. I have a whimsical imagination.”

“You like to play video games?” Birdy asks quietly.

“Yeah! There’s this game called Prime Empire, that’s the one I’m really into right now.”

“We were all really into it when it first came out.” Lloyd snickers, alluding to an inside joke Birdy’s not a part of.

“We were sucked into the game.” Cole explains even though Birdy hadn’t mentioned his confusion, “Jay saved us. It was a whole thing.”

“...You have had a lot of adventures.” there’s a pause as Birdy tries to think of what to say, “I would like to hear more about them.”

Lloyd hums, “Well, other than a few small fight here and there, and the current situation we’re in, the last big ordeal we had to take care of was The Mechanic and Fugi-doves team up.”

“The Mechanic cyborg-ed him.”

“Badly.” Nya adds darkly, “I could have done so much better.”

"Don't get any ideas." Cole ribs, nudging her playfully with his elbow.

Jay nods, “Yeah, he botched it up pretty bad. Fugi used to be a nothing villain, like, petty things. Now that he’s all…” Jay waves his hands in the approximation of gears turning, “Scary looking, he’s got actual minions.”

“I turned into the ocean.” Nya informs him, “But I got better.”

“Before that was Shintaro. We were invited by the princess for her birthday.” Lloyd continues.

“Queen Vania now. She’s cool, I think you’d like her.” Cole smiles.

“Her dad, the king, ended up being this evil warlock. His best friend was a floating skull.”

“Interesting…”

“I think you’d like him more than Vania,” Kai mutters, “Birds of a feather flock together.”

Lloyd graciously doesn’t acknowledge Kai, “Prime empire was before that, and then there was…” He stops. The air grows thick. “Let’s not talk about that one.” He murmurs.

“...What kind of game is it?”

Jay perks up, “Let me just tell you the story!” He launches immediately into an animated recap. The others interject every now and again to add their perspective and to correct Jays embellishments. “-And that’s how I lost my eye!” He says, pointing at the patch. Cole takes over after that, talking about princess Vania and the caves beneath Shintaro. The conversation devolves into one long timeline of their most recent life-or-death situations that Birdy listens to intently. He stops them with the occasional question, but otherwise is quiet while they recount it all.

So it’s a surprise when he interrupts Nya’s explanation of the Mechanics plot by leaping to his feet and taking a confrontational step towards Kai, “What are you doing with that?” He demands.

Kai jumps, surprised. He’d been leaning against the tree mindlessly checking his pockets for something to fiddle with- he looks down and realizes he’d fished out the painkiller Samira had given him and was rolling it between his fingers absently. “I’m playing with it.” He says with a raised eyebrow.

“That is not a toy.” Birdy bites out. Maybe he wouldn’t be so aggressive in any other environment, but this place put him on edge in the worst kind of way.

“I know that.” Kai shoots back sharply, standing to his full height, “What’s your problem?”

“Give it to me.” Birdy orders, holding his hand out, “I am not going to watch anyone else die here.”

“It’s not poison!” He clenches the pill in his fist, “It’s a painkiller for FSM’s sake.”

“It is engineered to be horribly addictive.” Birdy stresses, stepping up to Kai, “The withdrawals for that could kill you-”

“I've been managing my alcohol withdrawal just fine, thanks, I'm sure this wouldn't be any worse.” He snaps, shoving the pill back in his pocket.

Birdy jerks as if struck, “You are so dependent on alcohol you would die from it?”

“Stop talking to me.” Kai turns his back on him bitterly.

The air is fraught with tension, the energy pulled so taut it was only a matter of time before something snapped.

Birdy opens his mouth, “Do you think your friend sacrificed his life so you could ruin yours?”

CRACK-!

It all happens so fast Nya can barely keep up. Kai’s fist connects with Birdy's mask so hard he goes sprawling in the dirt. He stumbles back, slamming into a tree and slumping down at the base of it. He’s got one hand holding his mask in place reflexively, looking up at Kai in shock.

“You-” He snarls, body a pillar of fire as he towers over Birdy, “You do not get to speak about him! You are not even a fraction of the man he was! He may have been a robot, but he was more human than you will ever be!”

Cole gets in front of Kai and pushes him back. He keeps his hands on Kai’s chest to stop him from advancing on Birdy again, “Kai, stop!”

From his place on the ground, Birdy reaches a hand under his mask to wipe at his face. His fingers come back stained dark with blood, nearly black in the strange lighting of the realm. He looks up at Kai and his hand tightens around his staff dangerously.

“What are you going to do? Are you going to hurt me?” Kai spits, leaning to glare at him over Cole's frame, “Just like you hurt Farley? Fine then, go ahead! I can take you!”

Birdy looks down at his hand like it’s not attached to him. He throws the staff on the ground as if it’s burned him and shakes his head hard to clear his vision. He hasn’t said a word, mute in shock. He stumbles to his feet but he has to use a tree to catch himself, leaning on it to keep his feet under himself.

“I’m the master of fire! You don’t scare me!”

Birdy is shaking all over, hand trembling where he has it pressed against the strange tree. His chest is rising and falling rapidly and he has all his focus on Kai.

He turns and vanishes into the woods.

“Birdy!” Lloyd takes a step after him but aborts the mission, whipping around to Kai, “You two stay here with Kai and maybe knock some sense into him.” He points at Cole and Jay before turning to Nya, “Nya, come with me.” She has to scramble to keep up as Lloyd darts after Birdy, but it’s not long before Lloyd stutters to a stop.

He lets out a low growl in frustration, “I don’t know where he went.” He scrubs at his face roughly.

She places a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, “Just take a deep breath, Lloyd.”

“Everything fell apart so quickly.”

“I know.” She swallows roughly and looks away. She doesn’t have the words to make this okay. If they can’t find Birdy, if they can’t convince him to come back… they’ll be lost in the middle of nowhere in a realm that wants so so badly to kill them. Her eyes flick over the ground right to a footprint is half hidden by the leaves of a bright red shrub.

“Look!” She points to it, hoping a solid lead will cheer Lloyd up, “He went this way!”

They cautiously start to track Birdy, being extra careful not to miss any indicators where he ran off to. Finally, they come upon another small clearing. Another large, alien looking tree stretches up above them, the trunk of the tree is a deep blue and there are several bulbs along it where the wood splits to reveal huge chunks of a pale blue spongey growth. On the other side of the tree, Birdy’s foot sticks out from where he’s sitting in the dirt under the shade.

“Birdy!”

And right next to his foot is his mask.

Lloyd stops in his tracks the moment he sees it. “Are you okay?” He asks, staying out of sight of Birdy's face.

A gloves hand reaches out and takes the mask, slipping it on with his body still mostly hidden, “I am alright.” He stands up then and comes around the tree to face them, face once again firmly hidden. He’s holding a water bottle in one hand, using it to rinse the stain off his gloves. Well, he’s trying to.

“Here,” Nya says, stepping forward, “Let me.”

She swirls water around his hands and uses it to sweep the dark blood off the fabric. While she works, Birdy speaks, “I apologize if I worried you. I was always intending to return, I just needed a moment to… attend to my injuries.” He finishes awkwardly. “I was not going to leave you stranded.”

“Birdy, I didn’t come after you because you’re our guide.” Lloyd says, “I came because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Speak for yourself, Nya thinks. Well, that’s not entirely fair- she did think that Birdy wasn’t the villain he made himself out to be, and she trusted him to a degree. She wouldn't call them friends, but she didn't want to see him hurt either. Maybe her decision to follow Lloyd was almost entirely based on selfish reasons, but she had also been alarmed by Kai’s punch, worried about the brutality of how the hit had landed. Kai could knock out an opponent's teeth with a weak swing- there was a lot of damage to be done with a sucker punch like that.

“He isn’t like that, really.” She finds herself saying quietly as she draws out the last of the blood in Birdy's gloves, “He didn’t used to be, at least. He was more levelheaded than me before… Before we lost Zane.”

Birdy stays quiet.

Nya keeps going, “He took it the hardest out of us all, I think. He feels a lot of guilt. He lost his elemental abilities right before it happened, y’know? So I think he blames himself.” she moves water over his gloves absently. The blood is gone, but she can’t look up to meet his eyes, “And yeah, Zane was special to all of us, but he did something else for Kai. Kept him balanced, maybe. He got lost after Zane died. He trained until he collapsed, he spent hours patrolling the city, he kept busy because then he could dull the pain. And when he had to stop moving, he drank.”

“Grief does funny things to us all.” Lloyd says softly.

“You’re right. Zane wouldn’t have wanted this for him, and Kai knows that, but you were wrong to speak on his behalf. He’s gone, and none of us want to hear a stranger put words in his mouth.” She lets the water drop, splashing to the ground.

A long moment passes quietly, “I apologize. It was not my intention to disrespect your friend.” It’s his turn to drop his gaze to the ground.

“C’mon,” Lloyd says softly, “I think the others will want to hear that too.”

When they get back to the others, the air is tense. Kai is leaning against a tree attempting to wrap a bandage around his bloody knuckles. Jay is hovering at his elbow and Cole is standing off to the side, not looking at either of them.

Kai notices them first, but cuts his eyes away and pointedly ignores the trio rejoining their group.

“It was wrong of me to bring up your friend.” Birdy says before stepping any closer, “I reacted so strongly because I was afraid for you, Kai. Those pills are designed for control. Samira supplies the people of this realm and then twists their addiction against them.”

“I don’t need your worry.” Kai says, but it’s lost some of the bite it had before.

Hesitantly, Birdy approaches Kai. Slowly, with enough time for Kai to draw away, and with more than a bit of caution to stay out of easy access of another swing, Birdy cups Kai’s injured palm. He takes the bandages next, moving to wrap his hand, “There is not a switch I can flip to turn it off.” Birdy says wryly, carefully winding the gauze around Kai’s hand, “I am sorry for what I said.”

Kai just stares at him.

“...You may not trust me, but I trust you.” He continues, finishing up dressing his knuckles, “I believe you would have made the correct choice.”

Something shifts in Kai. his features soften and he pulls his hand away gently- his guard is still up, but there’s a change in his heart, “Y’know, you’ve got a hell of an iron jaw.” he tries for a joke, but it falls flat. Then, “Why are you doing all this? After everything you’ve done, why have a change of heart now?” He asks, search for an understanding. He didn't get Birdy. Maybe that was part of his aggression- he didn't understand how a warlord like him could just... suddenly decide to be a good person. There had to be a catch.

Birdy looks away, ruminating over his thoughts and looking for the best way to put it all into words, “I am trying to make up for the pain I have caused. I regret the things I have done. I wish I had never stepped foot in that throne room- I have been stuck in the dark ever since, plagued by the mistakes of my past... but I have a choice, now. Even in the darkness, I can choose to reflect the light.”

Kai freezes, looking at Birdy with wide eyes. He opens his mouth, but there’s a crash through the underbrush that interrupts him.

A massive two-legged beast blasts into the clearing with a series of loud clicks, hissing at the group gathered there. On top of the animal, on a makeshift saddle with a pair of leather reins in her hand- is Morrigan.

“I found you~!” She sing-songs.

Her steed shakes its head hard, obviously agitated by the bit shoved in its beak. It’s a massive thing with a set of wings to match, and it’s body was a patchwork of soft brown feathers and iridescent scales. Large slits flutter around the base of its throat as it breathes in, scenting the air. It’s feet are distinctly bird-like, with claws like a raptor and rough textured skin. It isn't happy about its predicament as a faithful show pony, flicking it’s head and flapping its wings in rage.

“You disrespected me, lover! I told you- either you gave me those flowers or something very bad was going to happen.” She flips her brown hair over her shoulder with a flourish, grinning down at the group with shark teeth, “I’ve come to collect, darling.”

“We don’t have the flowers any more!” Lloyd argues.

“Oh, I know that, little boy.” She giggles, “I’m here to do something very bad!”

With that, she shoves her finger out towards them and commands the vulture-bat beneath her, “Sick ‘em, boy!”

With that, the beast roars- and its small beak splits in half, its face opening up in four pieces to reveal a garbage disposal of razor sharp, serrated teeth stained with old blood. Its dark purple tongue flicks out before it crashes forward with the intent to kill. Despite its massive size, the thing is fast. It is upon them before they can think, and it’s only the speed of a ninja that saves their bones from snapping in those jaws.

“What is that?” Jay squawks in unison with the bird, who charges at him.

“A vulture-bat!” Birdy says as he leaps for his staff, fear bleeding into his voice, “Keep your eyes on it! It is quicker than you think!”

“Ew.” Nya says with a nervous laugh, mostly to herself. The bird is horrifying in it’s awkwardness- it’s bones seem too big for it’s body, the tautness of it’s skin revealing the spaces between feathers and scales. Little peeks of pink flesh that’s stretched so thin the blood vessels underneath are clearly visible. It moves unnaturally too, it’s body too long for it’s legs. Every other step it’s chest slams to the ground and bounces back up like he’s compensating for a missing limb. When it roars, foul smelling spittle flies everywhere.

Then she sees it. A long, thin appendage coming out from it’s tail feathers.

It whips it’s body around and her only warning is the high pitched whistle that comes from a deadly strike. She ducks, and the tree behind her explodes.

It’s like razor-wire, thin enough to decapitate any animal that comes it’s way, yet sturdy enough to nearly halve the trunk without even the hint of structural weakness.

Morrigan pulls on its reins so she can look at her targets, “Y’know why I haven’t killed anyone, Birdy? Because everyone does as they are told and gives me what I want.” There’s a manic shine in her eye, “Now you’ll see what happens when you disobey.”

She pulls out a knife and stabs the vulture-bat in it’s haunches. It roars in rage and shakes itself hard, trying to dislodge her, and when that doesn’t work it dives forward with the intent on killing anything around it. It’s pain needed to go somewhere.

Cole brings up a wall of earth high enough to trip the beast and it crashes to the ground, it’s claws scrabble for a moment and it’s back on it’s feet in almost no time. Kai throws a ball of fire in an attempt to scare it, but the singed feathers only seem to enrage it further. It’s mostly a game of cat and mouse with the ninja just barely dodging teeth and claws and a razor tail.

Nya knows they can’t dodge forever.

Birdy dives under the razor-wire that nearly takes his head before he pops up at the beasts underbelly. He’s almost trampled before he managed to grab hold of a patch of feathers and haul himself up onto the animals back. He’d only done all of that to get out of harms way, but now that he was nearly face to face with Morrigan, he had no idea what to do. He brandishes his staff anyway, trying to find his footing on the rampaging beast.

Morrigan stands up, hands still wound up in the reins to keep her balance and she brandishes her sword, “You think you're the only one with a thirst for blood, don't you? You think you're the only one with the guts to slaughter someone!” She snarls with a sadistic smile, “You have no idea what I'm capable of when I don't get my way.” She yanks the reins to one side and the animal veers sharply, whole body tipping and turning. Birdy crashes sideways off his feet and is nearly flung from the beasts back before he can catch it’s tail feathers in one hand.

Nya flicks her wrist and calls a ball of water to her. She throws it as hard as she can, watching it soar through the air and slap into Morrigan. What’s most important is how the water drowns the leather and the scales on the monsters back.

The beast turns toward Nya sharply at the attack, and Morrigan can’t keep her footing on the slick saddle.

One foot slips from under her and she can't catch herself. She tumbles down the beasts shoulder, but before she can hit the ground her body yanks to a painful stop. The reins are still wrapped around her wrist, leaving her dangling at the monsters chest. The bird slams sideways into a tree because of how hard Morrigan yanks on the reins in her fall, narrowly avoiding bashing her to paste. There’s genuine panic on her face as she swings her sword up, trying to slice through the reins so she can survive this encounter.

Birdy crawls up the bird to it’s neck. He nearly throws himself off it when he lunges for Morrigan, holding his hand out for her to take, “Let me help you!” He shouts, voice nearly lost among the vulture-bats cries.

She would have to drop her sword. She looks at him for a long moment before her face twists in hatred. With a mighty heave, she swings the sword at Birdy, aiming for a killing blow. He yanks his hand back and she misses, the sword cutting into the vulture-bat’s shoulder.

It rears back in pain and Birdy goes flying off, rolling to a stop in the dirt.

Morrigan is thrown backward and shaken around as the vulture-bat reacts to the sharp sting. It spots her as she’s thrown to the side, it’s large black eye focusing on her. It understands immediately. With a sharp turn, It whips its head around so she goes flying in a wide arc- right in front of its mouth.

It’s face splits in four. It lunges forward.

The crunch of shattering bones makes Nya feel sick. Blood splatters across the clearing as the bird shakes its head like a dog with a toy, other… debris raining down from its jowls. She didn’t even have time to scream. That must have been a mercy.

The blood pooling on the ground seems to be eagerly absorbed by the ground, leaving swathes of darker spots on the grass.

Nya can see its throat spasm as it swallows what's left of her.

Everything is quiet. The beast’s gills flutter again.

Birdy grabs her arm, snapping out of her trance. “Go!” He orders urgently and quietly.

She turns and runs. She can see Jay ahead of her, and she focuses on not losing him and nothing else. She doesn’t flinch when the vulture-bat roars behind her, and she doesn’t stumble when the earth shakes as it chases after them.

“It’s gaming on us!” Lloyd shouts from somewhere behind her.

“We have to fight!” Cole confirms.

They break out of the forest into muddy earth, the thickness of it sucking at Nya's feet as she tries to run. There are no trees out here in the wastelands- well, no trees big enough to hide behind. The spindly little black plants will do nothing for them now.

She turns around right as the bird explodes from the forest, a looming monster taking up all her vision. Her heart leaps up to her throat. It doesn’t hesitate, covering the land in three long strides before it’s upon them again.

Cole tries to use earth, but the mud is too soft to even slow the beast down. Jay flings lightning but the bird is fast, dodging that and Kai’s fireballs alike. Lloyd hits it heavily on the side with a ball of green energy, and the beast roars in rage as it turns on him. There’s more fighting- fighting is too generous for what they’re doing. Surviving, maybe. Just barely. It’s so angry that any real damage to it just pisses it off even more, too much adrenaline in it’s system to feel any of it.

It bites dangerously close to Cole, whipping it’s long tail back with deadly intent-

SNAP

The tail slams into Birdy's side- hard. It’s enough force to throw him back until he’s tumbling in the mud, coming to a stop on his back.

Black blood streaks across the wet earth.

His whole left side is torn open.

Nya is moving before she can think, “Keep it distracted!” She orders, flying across the mud. She slams down on her knees at Birdy's side, trying to assess the damage- did they pack enough bandages? How bad is it that he most definitely got realm of madness mud all inside his wound?

He has a hand pressed against his side. His glove is soaked through with blood. He makes no attempt to move, “Nya.” he says quietly.

“You’re gonna be fine.” She reassures him immediately, “Just lay still.” She tries to pry his hand away from his side, but he won’t move it.

“Nya, it is too late.” His voice is resigned. She feels like his voice is always resigned, always ready to die, “I need you to listen to me. Please.”

She shakes her head, “Just move your hand. I have medical training, I can help you.”

He acts as if he didn’t even hear her, “You have to go north-east from here. Towards where the sun rises- if you see a tree split in half by a lightning strike, you are going in the right direction.”

“Birdy, move your hand! You’re going to bleed out if you don’t let me stop the flow!”

“Keep walking past that split tree. You’ll see four big mountains in front of you-”

“What are you talking about?” She snaps, stressed and desperate.

“I’m telling you how to get to the mountain of madness.” He says soberly.

She looks at him in disbelief, “Take us there yourself!” She snaps. She pulls on his hand and he lets her, too weak to fight her anymore.

Underneath his torn blue tunic, past the dingy white robes underneath, is glimmering silver skin and a tangled mess of torn wires and gutted tubing. Nya’s brain stalls.

“Nya.” She jerks as if she’s been struck. Everything else vanishes to background noise. That’s not Birdy's voice. It’s softer, higher-pitched. It’s the sound of snowfall and red tailed hawks and fresh baked cookies. It’s the sound of home.

She slowly looks up at him, at that stupid stupid mask. Her eyes are blurry with tears.

“Zane?”

“Watch out!” Jay screams, the sound of the fight behind them blaring reality back into her ears.

She turns around and the beast is upon them. She’s too rattled to think straight-

Zane bursts forward spilling oil and transmission fluid all over the mud. He shoves Nya back, behind himself as he pushes his hand forward in a desperate attempt to change the way this fight ends. A giant pillar of ice shoots out of the mud in front of him and brutally slams into the Vulture-bats chest. Ice spreads at the point of contact, frost swirling up its skin in painful cracks. The beast squawks in startled pain, jerking away from the two before it finally decides the fight isn’t worth it. It flaps it’s massive wings in a panic, scrambling away from the ice and taking flight. It flys like a bat out of hell, it’s ground speed nothing compared to how quickly it takes off towards the horizon.

Zane's knees buckle, and he crashes into the mud and doesn’t move again.

#ninjago #zane julien #nya ninjago #kai ninjago #cole ninjago #jay walker #lloyd garmadon #ninjago never the dark #spinchip fic #ninjago au #someone dies brutally this chapter. sayonara...#blood #gore #broken bones

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i-live-in-my-bookshelf · 6 months ago

Text

Almost a month ago, I decided to stop the madness that is being held captive by my own phone.

I hated the cage I spent my precious hours in, when I scrolled mindlessly on my phone, looking at useless stuff.

I remember someone saying, that I don't even remember the last three videos I watched on social media, and I agreed, but worst of all, I realized I didn't remembered the last three sundowns. My last meals, or the last conversations with my friends.

I didn't remembered a lot of things before. I used social media mainly to make myself 'relax' and 'forget' the uncomfortable moments of my life, but with that I paid the price of forgetting the pleasurable moments too. Like my friends and family's little ways of living, or the blowing wind or the first smell of summer. I forgot a lot of things.

So when I finally said goodbye to my phone (well almost, I still use it but spend like five of ten minutes on is every day, mainly for calling my family or something) I knew it is the best decision of my life.

I felt the awful longing for the fast pacedness of instagram, or the mindless hours of peace tiktok gave me. And the first week were mostly hitting my hand that reached for my phone every 5 minutes, and looking for other things that can take my mind off of it.

But when the first week ended, I started to feel the thread loosening, and I didn't reach for my phone often.

And now, I feel just... free.

And I go out a lot more. To the garden I never appreciated enough. And I picked raspberries and gooseberries that I never did since my childhood when I spent every summer day in my grandparents garden. And picked the fresh green onions, and climbed the cherry tree to reach the ripe cherries that were growing on the top.

And I read two books already. And didn't put them down every 10 minutes just to check my phone. And enjoyed them more too!

And I spend a lot of time talking with my mom. And playing cards with her, that she loves.

And first in the morning I open the balcony door, and the morning air blows through the kitchen, and I go out and smell the damp earth, and listen to the birds.

And at night, I go out, and look up at the sky, and I look for stars, and bats that flying above. And I love the quiet, and the warm breeze.

And I just realize, that yes, every bad thing came from phones, and social media. It robbed us from our days, that it will never give back. And it didn't even gave us nothing in return. And it never will. The more we dependent on it, the more it will seep into our life, and never leave.

But life, nature, sounds and voices, fresh fruit, and dark starry nights will be there. Again and again, and it will give you real unadulterated peace, and happiness that you looking for.

#aesthetic #tumblr #dark academia #dark acadamia aesthetic #academia #book #light academia #tumblr blog #social media #evil social media #inner peace #daily #my thougts #self reflection

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granolawriting · 1 year ago

Text

New things ☆ ° *

pairing: Platonic Jedi!reader x Jedi Anakin

Summary: Anakin spent his young days as either a slave or "the chosen one". Never having the opportunity to really celebrate the holidays, you explain to him a celebration on your own planet for the fall season

word count: 1.8k

masterlist

A/N: This was literally so much fun to write, I really like writing anakins banter with the reader, and overall just the stupid things he'd say in my own interpritation of his character off the battle feild. I hope you enjoy!! This is the 3rd installment for my kinktober list, Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

“I feel dumb. Are you sure you’re not pulling one over on me?”

Anakin stares with inquisitive intent at the pumpkin you laid before him. Sat upon a steel counter of the kitchen within your room in the Jedi temple. Tossed on a small ottoman in the middle of your home was a bag full of ingredients for baking, holodramas of sith legends, and most importantly, the means for cutting up the pumpkins that sat before you and Anakin.

“Dude, I lived it and you didn't. Either you can trust me and stab the pumpkin, or you can forever live in a non-holiday spirit.”

“I just can't imagine that this actually got popular. What’s the meaning behind this?”

“Yaknow, this was initially made to scare away the sith ghosts that would roam the halls at night on the night before halloween.”

“That's total bull. I don't think this would scare a 5 year old.”

“You haven't even cut into it yet!”

Anakin holds up the traceable mold that came with the package of serrated knives and spoons, triangle eyes and comically sharp teeth.

“I don't have to to know that if a youngling saw this, they would start laughing at me.”

You snatch it away from him teasingly, a melodramatic face of anger contorting upon you,

“Well then, it seems like they have no holiday spirit either! Pay them no mind. There are those who get it, and those who don't!”

“Whatever. Just hand me the knife.”

“You don't even know what to do!”

Thus the first activity begins, detailing the two of you slowly cutting into pumpkins while a music box softly plays soundtracks of scary films from your childhood. Demonstrating to Anakin exactly how to cut into a pumpkin with less than graceful precision,

“You don't know what you’re doing.”

“Shut up! It's been a while.”

And as the top finally pops off of the head of the pumpkin, you and him rejoice in quite a small victory. Though the excitement upon his face only lasts a moment, because as he watches you delve elbow deep within the inside of the pumpkin, horror shocks him stiff.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

Eyes widened at the prospect of having to do that himself.

“What? Big scary Jedi doesn't like getting his hands dirty?”

Teasing inflection coats your voice at the sight of his distress.

“This is just disgusting! I don't mind getting dirty if it's not slimy shit all over my body.”

“Well, I suggest you take off that fancy robe.”

Exasperated sigh exits him with great dramatic flair, as he walks over to the living room to slowly disrobe as to take in his last seconds of cleanliness before his agreeance to engage in your home planet festivities weighs more and more on him like one of the worst decisions he’s ever made in his whole life.

Slowly does he inch his fingers inside the pumpkin itself, and when he reaches the bottom eyes close and eyebrows contort upwards.

“Stop looking like you’re about to die. It's a pumpkin not a dead tooka.”

“Thanks for that image.”

And so the two of you slowly scrape pumpkin into a larger bowl of insides between the both of you, melodramatic whines by Anakin that really bring out the kid in him. Anakin, despite being such a great warrior and chosen one, was still quite young. He never really had the ability to do childish things, growing up as a slave and thrusted into the jedi temple thereafter there was no room to be a kid-- do kid things. So that's what you focused on in your time with him. It consisted of helping him get in touch with who he really is, not who people exactly wanted him to be. And you bore through it, even if sometimes it meant feilding his complaints like a whining child who has to share their toys with other kids. When Anakin wasn't in the line of fire he was a simple, silly person. A boy, really.

The moment his pumpkin was satisfactorily scraped, he runs to wash his arms under water and copious amounts of soap.

“Oh, did you know people can be allergic to pumpkin?”

“You’re kidding right.”

“Yeah well I just hope you’re not.”

“Could've told me that before I just violated it like that.”

“Slipped my mind.”

After a bit more carving within the eyes and mouth of the hollow pumpkin, you adorn the iconic face of a halloween grin upon yours, and Anakin opting for a more sinister look upon his.

“You said it was supposed to scare people, none of the designs has that effect.”

Well Anakin, I think the most scary thing about this is how you cut it. I can barely tell what's going on here.”

“You don't understand my vision. It's for the sith ghost, not you.”

As the first activity of pumpkin cutting comes to an end, a small glow emitting within the pumpkins as you place the small glowing orb that completes every carving inside its center, you and Anakin stand back impressed with one another's work.

“I guess it wasn't half bad.”

“Told you”

The next project you two had up against you was baking. Now, once again you were well convinced that Anakin had never cooked his own food his entire life. At least, anything complex. Whenever he had to make his own food it was often very simple, laced with struggle. The peak of his culinary journey was 5 years old, for reference.

“Why do we need to put so many things in here? Aren't we making cookies?”

“Yes, but to make it not taste like sand then we’re gonna have to add more flavors.”

“Sand, very funny. What's with the paste?”

“The icing?”

“Whatever.”

“It's for after the cookie. We’re going to decorate it.”

“This seems like a lot of work for 2 bites.”

“You eat them in 2 bites?”

“I’ve got things to do.”

And thus the teaching begins once more. You have to explain how to keep the wet from the dry until you’re willing to mix everything, teaching him how to crack an egg as he fails in the process getting residue all over your countertop. You show him how to whisk, watching him struggle with the thick batter as the automatic one you keep in your cabinet stays sadistically untouched. And as you two finally finish the batter, you show him how to put them on the sheets properly.

“When you roll them, you have to remember they’re going to flatten and expand. Don't make them the size of a cookie, make them like a third of the size.”

“But if I made it the size of a cookie, I could have a 3x cookie. Mathematically speaking.”

“Yes, but don't do that. They’ll all stick together.”

“To make one monster cookie?”

“Theoretically yeah.”

“Noted.”

As he grabbed huge chunks of dough within the bowl you both shared, you just chose to pick your battles.

Setting the timer for 40 minutes, there were now 40 minutes to kill before you were able to get to the next part of the process-- decorating. Looking within your bag of festivities you find the holodramas that lie at the bottom of the bag, reminiscent of your childhood. The exaggerated stories of siths and creatures of the outer rim that would haunt and stalk you, stories that scared you awake when you were younger. You allow Anakin to pick from a few of the titles.

“Frankensith? The uh.. Friday before 429. The ewok in the woods. These all sound a little corny.”

“Again, you don’t get it. But I promise you watching these things will freak you out. The ewok one scared me so much I couldn't sleep for days afterwards.”

“And how old were you when that happened?”

“...fifteen.”

“You’re joking. Put it on.”

Dimming the sights of your living room do the both of you sink into the couch as you pull out the final thing that will stave you from hunger until the cookies are completed.

“What's with the wrapping on these?”

He pointed at the chocolate you unveiled, wrapped in various depictions of horror legends over the years.

“Isn't it scary?”

“He looks like he has a lazy eye.”

“He’s supposed to be undead!”

“Yeah, and with all that reanimation they cut him a little short.”

“That's mean!”

“Nothing so far has scared me, and the candy definitely isn't much different.”

“Whatever.”

The bowl sat between the two of you held various kinds of candy from chocolate to sower, as the movie slowly came to a head. Laid back and judgemental, did Anakin lie unbothered upon the couch, expecting nothing to really catch his eye about this film more than dumb special effects and poor acting.

Though as time went on you watched as his body slowly straightened, eyes with greater focus on the projection as the story grew deeper. You saw his face contort from indifference, to morbid curiosity, to the well awaited fear.

BEEP!

The oven goes off, which makes Anakin jump.

“HAH! You’re scared shitless aren't you.”

“Are you kidding me? These things are freaky by nature. Their little swords.. Their agility. I couldn't live.”

“Uh huh. Well get up we need to decorate the cookies.”

After allowing them to cool for a moment you begin to teach him how to pipe the icing onto the cookies. However as you gaze upon his own tray, there seems to be about 3 discernable cookies to your 6 well shaped ones.

“All this means is that I have more room for artistic expression than you.”

“Right. Just watch what I do and you can make whatever you want.”

And as you draw cute ghosts, small faces decorating each of their eyes and little bats and pumpkins to match their theme, another glance at Anakin's tray once again reminds you you’re dealing with a 10 year old. Upon his cookies did he design quite crude depictions of the ewok’s with angry expressions on their face, forever immortalized- until eaten of course -a glare of small and furry anger upon the cookie.

“Nice Anakin.”

The night came to a close after that, finishing the ewok holo with greater ease as the fear inhabiting Anakin slowly dissipated in the ability to eat them at the same time they were eating others in their traps. A dark sky fell within your room and as you sat there with Anakin, pumpkins illuminated with silly faces and a growing pile of colorful foil piling on your coffee table as the candy bowl depleted, you felt complete. The feeling of having not only someone to celebrate the holidays with, but someone to share them with made you feel a little less alone. And you knew Anakin felt the same.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #fanfiction #fanfic #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #sw anakin #platonic anakin #platonic #anakin x jedi reader #anakin x platonic jedi

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