#(I'm always down to see more stuff of Mangle too <3)< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[hyenasfnafaus]

There's so many FNaF characters I want official plushies of so bad.

[llycaons]

OKAY whew son of a gun what a show. not too many final thoughts

first of all I've never even heard of a neo-Western. huh. it fits

really fun final shootout! a very clever setup but in hindsight...why wouldn't they search the car?

the moving chair that kept pushing the guy's chest up and down after he'd already died was an eerie touch

considering that the last time he saw jesse he told him he essentially killed his gf and then sent him away to be tortured and murdered, it was nice to see that he protected him in the end

I can't say I was really surprised because I figured he'd always carry at least some loyalty, and I got the sense that he was just really angry right after hank and spending time in NH cooled him off

I could tell how tod would die right before it happened. SO satisfying

for a show that ends right as the mc dies, it does a decent job of tying up loose plot ends. skyler's got something to give to the dea for settlement or whatever, they're going to find the bodies, and hopefully WJ will get that 9 million on his birthday like gretchen and elliot were scared into doing

jesse fantasizing about making his box and then cutting to him on a leash in the lab was pretty harrowing. lived like that for months

dunno how he's going to be but I guess I'll find out in his very own movie. man but he has NO money

ww seemed so much more clearheaded and calm in this last episode, not possessive or vengeful or controlling. he even told skyler the truth!

and it was such a relief that he shot jack right there no matter where the money was. character growth, if you can believe it

the funny thing is that he DID do what he set out to do. he made well over his goal of ~700k and was able to endow it to his family. they didn't go bankrupt because of his treatments. and it wasn't even the cancer that killed him!

it's just that in the process he horrifically traumatized his wife and former student and mangled or lost his relationships with literally everyone and murdered like 20 people and got even MORE killed or arrested, poisoned a child, got his family kicked out of their home, got his brother in law killed, and generally ruined the lives of everyone around him

it was a last bit of cruelty to tell jesse to kill him or maybe he thought it was giving him a chance for revenge....in any case I'm glad he didn't. I think it would just haunt him and he's got quite enough to deal with

I'm still unhappy about how andrea and brock's storyline ended. so what, it was all for nothing?

oh I forgot about the ricin!!! when she was pouring the stevia in I was thinking 'oh she and her stevia, so reliable' and the camera put such emphasis on it and I was just like :) okay

I WAS worried because there was only like 5 minutes left and who's going to kill her? but it's handled!

also uhhh I hope the fact that jesse's fingerprints are on the gun and stuff isn't bad for him

lastly they didn't give him a respirator 😭 hopefully that doesn't manifest as a longterm health issue

ultimately this doesn't read as a tragedy to me. to me a tragedy is inescapable, it is inevitable, the players involved were doomed from the start due to circumstance and character

but the thing, what happens in this show comes in large part due to the intentional, concious, and unnecessary actions of the characters. ww could have taken his rich friends' money. he could have quit after 3 months with fring. he could have bit the bullet and killed hank before shit all fell apart. he could have stood aside to let him die. and he wouldn't have, because that's not in his character, but like...there was a series of decisions that led here and nothing was set in stone. there are things that characters aren't in control of but many of them are digging their own grave fully knowing the risks. and that's not a tragedy to me, that's a series of very bad decisions by characters who had plenty of choices

idk I'm not a classicist and I don't know anything about literary tragedy but this just doesn't feel like one to me. the only real tragedy here was skyler

overall one of the best shows I've seen, solid 9/10, but definitely not the most entertaining or endearing. I still think the wire beats it. I'm glad I saw it but if I ever rewatch (unlikely) it'll probably just be the funny scenes. but I love getting all the jokes....the brba jokes on here are great. I'm going to watch el camino this weekend but then maybe a long break before bsc...I need to watch something goofy with a happier ending

this concludes your resident blogger's breaking bad reaction posts, coming to you nine years after the fact. thank you.

[nellie-elizabeth]

First Line Meme Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line, then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

tagged by @lizardkingeliot. Thanks!!! <3

This is going to be fun!

1. The Production of Penny. SPOILERS for A Comet Pulled From Orbit.

For the first several weeks, it’s just impossible to meet her. Penny will feel bad about it later, but he can’t take in any new stimuli when his entire body, mind, soul is shivering in the exposed light, trying to adjust to a reality he’d given up on returning to. He holes himself up with his family in one of his favorite places, a small house in Alaska, of all places, that he’d only just acquired and made comfortable when he’d—when he’d gotten himself trapped somewhere else.

2. The Way a Fool Would Do

You never really know what you’re getting into, when you choose to take a soulmate. Before Quentin had bound himself to Eliot, he’d been forced to endure the normal barrage of questions from the Fillorian Soul Council, and then a separate barrage of questions from his cousin Julia, who had nitpicked his choice down to the marrow, pouring concern after concern into Quentin’s already terrified brain.

He’d been so frustrated with her at the time, but in retrospect he can’t blame her for her caution. The fact is, no matter how much you prepare, no matter how much you think you’ve thought it all through, binding another soul to your own is unlike anything else in the world. It is impossible to know how it will feel until it’s already too late to turn back.

3. The Genesis of Julia

She decides, while watching the 1984 Summer Olympics one lazy day, a magically cool glass of lemonade on the table beside her as she lounges back into their comfiest armchair, to master gymnastics. The decision is made more or less on a whim; this is how Julia decides how to spend a great deal of her infinite life minutes, truthfully. She’s organized and meticulous once she knows her goal, but when it comes to finding said goal, it’s all about what strikes her fancy.

4. The Construction of Kady

The dust took a couple of weeks to settle, after Kady’s abrupt departure from her old life and chaotic intrusion into her new one. She’d been in the middle of war with her own people when she’d died for the first time, and the others had found her desperately attempting to steal magic from a rival hedge group in order to survive, too anxious about her own life to properly mourn for her mother’s death, and certainly too caught up in her own frantic mind to trust any of these new people, much less believe them about their immortality, or her own.

5. The Origins of Alice

There was no way to prepare for something like this. There was simply nothing she could do, nothing she could write down, no refinements she could make, that would help her to be more ready for what the morning would bring.

Alice hated that very much, of course.

6. The Creation of Quentin

The object in question was beautifully rendered, detailed and precise. A burnished color, the cool weight of it reassuringly solid in Q’s hands as he examined it, turning it over and over in his hands. This one wasn’t even particularly old; it looked to be a sixteenth century model, and Q had seen older and more beautiful in his time.

7. The Making of Margo

When Margo first met Alice, she understood her immediately. That wasn’t to say that Alice was boring, or predictable, or that there was nothing Margo had to learn about her. It wasn’t that at all. It was more that in meeting Alice, Margo was able to take one look at her and think to herself: ah, now this I know what to do with.

8. The Explanation of Eliot

El was afraid of heights, but only a little.

He could fly, after all, and that should have made fear illogical. But if anything, his ability to subvert gravity was the very reason for his nerves: he’d never been able to trust himself with anything, much less his own life or the life of others. The few times his telekinetic powers had been called in as a means of escape or rescue, when he’d held an innocent stranger or beloved family member in his arms and floated with them down from the side of a mountain or building or cliff face… well, those were the things he had nightmares about, on the rare occasions when he could remember his dreams. It was that sensation of freefall, of knowing it was magic, something inexplicable, deep in his consciousness, in his soul, even, that was the only thing preventing sharp, painful, deadly impact. He knew himself well enough to know he should never be trusted with something so precious as the life of another.

9. A Comet Pulled From Orbit

Alice Quinn woke up.

This was an unexpected development, considering the events of mere moments ago. Specifically the agonizing thirty seconds she’d spent bleeding out on the carpet, wondering in an abstract sort of way how long it would be before someone thought to look for her and found her mangled corpse tucked into the corner of a Brakebills Library study room, surrounded by the shredded remains of several large magical tomes, and her carefully collated notes.

---

Pausing here for a moment after the first 9 - eight of them are all part of one series. The main story, A Comet Pulled From Orbit, is an Alice POV AU of The Old Guard. Prominent Queliot subplot, some burgeoning Kalice and other ships as well. Lots of found family, etc. The other stories, all the ones with the seven main characters' names in them, are meant to be a series of small snippets to fill out that universe, backwards and forwards. I'm noticing that I do a lot of setup, I don't often start in medias res with any of these, trying to set a tone and get the information started right away. Each of the chapters of the snippet stories could be their own thing, so it's a little weird to consider it the start of a bigger story!!

Okay, moving on to earlier stories.

10. is it too late (or could this love protect me)

This is a story about nothing and everything. It is a story between then and now. It is a story of people living their lives, living them, and living them, and continuing to live them, with only some pedestrian heartbreak and alcoholism and good old millennial economic angst to add some variety to the humdrum of continued existence.

This is a story about stupidity, and love. Stupid love.

(A/N - hmm I kinda hate this beginning now even though I'm SUPER proud of the story as a whole)

11. Maybe This Time

"Quentin Coldwater?" Eliot says, twisting the name up in his mouth like an insult.

Give him a break - it's a weird fucking name, for one thing. And besides, the off-putting demeanor is an intentional scare tactic.

12. Beyond the Veil

"Do you think the Lorians would want a seat at the table?" Fen asked doubtfully, looking over the charter in front of her.

"Well, they're going to want to review the language, at any rate," one of the advisers put in. "Especially the order of the names."

"But it's in alphabetical order!" Margo said. "Fillory comes before Loria - sorry, not sorry."

13. Running All This Time

Quentin was sweet. There were a lot of words that Eliot could think of to describe him, several of them a lot more besotted than he was comfortable with, but sweet was an apt descriptor, generally speaking.

He had the softest little smile, and wide brown eyes that crinkled up in the corners when he was happy. He had strong yet gentle hands, hands that were somehow mesmerizing as he flapped them around wildly during conversation, trying to paint pictures in the air to accompany his latest rant about whatever-the-fuck. His voice was calming, his circular logic compelling, enough so that Eliot found himself listening - really listening - whenever Quentin was talking to him, even if it was about the Plover books and what they suggested about this time period in Fillorian history, or the politics of trade when it came to buying labor from talking animals, or how he may have come up with a better tracking system to mark down the mosaic patterns they'd already tried. Dry, uninteresting stuff, really. Which is what Eliot told Quentin, with an eye-roll, to stop him from getting a big head.

14. To Feel the Same

Quentin finds Eliot sitting alone in the armory, surrounded by books.

Something tense and frantic inside of him unclenches, like it always does around this man. It’s actually a remarkable thing, because by all rights Eliot should make him more nervous, not less. Quentin is a nervous person, after all, and Eliot is so… Eliot . A High King in his blood. Quentin had meant that, when he said it, and had drank in the gratitude in Eliot’s eyes like a glass of pure, crisp water, essential and quenching.

15. Identity Theft

The first thing the man noticed as he came to consciousness was that his head was pounding. It felt like the worst hangover he'd ever had, times about a million, and for several seconds all he could do was lay there and gasp and wait for his eyes to adjust. He appeared to be in a semi-dark room of some sort. It was large, with a cavernous ceiling above him, and the air was drafty. Like a garage maybe, bigger even - a warehouse?

The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't alone in the room. There were shapes all around him, rustling and making confused, pained sounds. After a few moments of this, there was a whoosh of energy and an orb of light floated above his head, illuminating the space in a soft glow. Someone in the room had cast a simple light spell. He looked around and sat up slowly, trying not to jostle his still pounding head. His next observation was that pretty much everyone in the room with him was kind of stupidly attractive.

16. Promises

Quentin gets about thirty seconds alone in his bedroom in the cottage, before Eliot is bursting through the door without knocking. It's not that he wasn't expecting him to take it hard, but seriously - can he not give Quentin just a couple of minutes of peace?

"This isn't happening," Eliot says without preamble, slamming the door shut behind him. "I'm sorry, Q, but it's not."

"I honestly don't think it's your decision to make," Quentin says, running a tired hand over his face.

17. The Curse of the Broken Vase (aka The One Where They Get Married and Nothing Goes Wrong)

Quentin was pacing.

He was pacing, and he was tugging his hands through his hair, which he really shouldn't be doing because it had actually taken a hairdresser an annoying amount of time to brush it out and tie it back, and apparently it was perfect now, even though Quentin couldn't really see how it was different from his normal lazy bun, but whatever.

There would be people, Eliot included, who would be annoyed with him for messing up his hair.

18. Liquid Courage

Eliot was fidgeting. Which was unusual, and generally not a good sign. But it still wasn't much of a warning, Quentin had thought to himself later, given what was about to happen. Then again, Eliot had been acting strangely all week, a little distant and distracted, and Quentin had known his partner was working up to discuss something with him.

Quentin had been worried, of course, but in an abstract sort of way. He figured whatever it was, the two of them were more than equal to the challenge. Given everything they'd been through over the entire course of their relationship, he really couldn't imagine any piece of news that would be capable of obliterating their lives.

19. Reciprocal

The thing about Quentin Coldwater was that it was pretty much impossible not to love him. Honestly, it wasn't even Eliot's fault - how was he expected to spend every second of every day around such a beautiful, adorable, kind person without letting it get to him? And the sex. Well. That was fucking incendiary, which really wasn't helping his resolve in the love department.

20. Fragments

It was a perfectly normal morning in Fillory. Which, honestly, should have been Quentin's first warning that things were about to go very, very wrong. Fillory was many things, but normal was not one of them: Q had gotten used to being woken up by harried castle employees, alerting him to one catastrophe or another. The Serpent War had ended months ago, but the paperwork was still pouring in like it had never stopped. His official role in the government wasn't supposed to have anything to do with the war efforts, but it had been an all-hands-on-deck situation for the last year or so.

---

Oh my goodness, this took me back to almost my first story in this fandom! I have 22 Magicians fics posted, so that's almost all of them...

I think my favorite of all of these is Maybe This Time, just because I like starting off with such an iconic moment from canon. It's the kind of fic that I hope resonates with people differently upon a re-read, and I like the strong, instantly recognizable hook. You read that first line and you know where you are, but you have no real idea where the story is about to take you.

I've also had a lot of fun writing Julia in the Comet 'verse and I like her opening line to the first snippet I did for her!

---

I'll tag @hmgfanfic, @ameliajessica, @hoko-onchi-writes, @freneticfloetry, @honeybabydichotomy, @allegria23, @spiders-hth-is-an-outlier, @rubickk7, @portraitofemmy, @propinquitous, and all others who want to!!

[starlightwrites]

For the Emotional Prompts, could I please get Anger 10. “Do that again and you’ll regret it" for Cori and Gage? There are a lot of reasons I can imagine either one saying that, to each other or anyone else, so I'm curious to see what you'd do with it! Thank you!

Hi @aliceliveson! <3 <3 <3

Thank you for asking! It took me a couple of days to land on a scene, but I think I found some context for this one. This was a challenging prompt; I really liked writing it!

For the Emotional Prompts (linked)

Anger: “Do that again and you’ll regret it.” (Gage)

Corinne was already at the arcade by the time he caught up to her.

He found her up front by the token machines, leaning against the wall and talking to Fritsch. Bit her lip. Didn’t look up as he entered the room; she shoulda’—should always have her head on a swivel when she was out. Especially when she was out without him.

And that was the real fucking problem, wasn’t it? She was just out. Hadn’t told him that she was leaving. Left him sleeping while she wandered all over the goddamned place alone. She could have gotten gutted or grabbed. After the shit that happened with Nisha? She should have known better. Should have thought better.

Fritsch nodded at whatever she said before glancing back over his shoulder, his gaze landing on the door. Cori finally looked up too. Took her long enough.

He raised an eyebrow. She nodded at him and then turned right back to Fritsch. Right back into the conversation as if she hadn’t gone awol and scared the living daylights out of him.

He crossed to stand closer to the middle of the lobby. From there, he could see into the rooms on either side. Some Disciples milling around the shooting game. He could hear folks out back, most likely Pack, given how loud they were. No one by the hoop-shoot game. No telling if there was someone out in the back closet, but there were enough people just from what he could tell that there was potential for this to go south.

“So, Boss,” Fritsch said. “You gonna kill it?”

Cori thought for a second. Sighed. Drummed her fingers on her thigh. She was nervous about something.

“I don’t think so. Better plan:  let’s put out a general bulletin with RedEye to open season on the thing. I’m sure there’s plenty of raiders around here who’d love to take a crack at a Super Mutant.”

“You might be right about that, OverBoss, but I’ll tell you something because I like ya.” Fritsch smoothed the ends of his moustache. He leaned in and spoke quiet enough where Gage had to strain to hear him over the constant noise from the old soundtrack in the background. Quietly, he added “Eventually, you’re gonna want to hop back in that ring. We all got things around here that keep us useful. This arcade is my pride and joy, but it’s also the only reason I get to stay here without a collar. Folks need some way to blow off steam, you know?”

Corinne nodded.

“You’re doing good work here, so far as I can see. But the gangs need reminding of how tough you are. Keeps them from getting too curious about who could take you in a fight. Pass this one up, but maybe take on the next asshole who gets caught in the trap, right?”

“Maybe.”

“I knew you were made of smarter stuff. Old Gage over there doesn’t trust just anyone, do you Gage?”

He grunted. The Disciples in the other room were still watching.

“That’s some glowing praise from Gage,” Fritsch grinned as he nudged Cori with his elbow. She smiled.

“I’ll remember the advice. And thanks for the tokens,” she replied.

Fritsch nodded and waved them off. The Disciples watched Cori cross the lobby but didn’t move. After a moment, Gage cracked his neck, nodded to the Disciples and Fritsch, and followed Corinne out into the midday sun.

She walked like there ain’t no place she oughtta be, and sure, not like she needed to be outpacing a deathclaw, but the unaffected ease of her stride was pissing him off. Looked back over his shoulder again. Some runt Fritsch had probably hired from the travelers scrambled out the door in the direction of RedEye’s radio tower, at the other end of Nuka Town. Disciples weren’t following, but he could tell at least a couple of them had thought about it just by how they’d been standing. Ears probably pricked up under their masks.

He waited until they made it all the way up to Fizztop before saying a word.

“And what the fuck was that, huh Boss?”

“Excuse me?” She flopped onto the couch across from the bar, feet up on the table. Half a smirk played across her lips like she thought this was the funniest damn thing.

“You ran off.” He folded his arms over his chest. Her eyes swept from his hairline down to his boots and back up again. The smirk faded.

“I went to handle some OverBoss business,” she said.

“By running off.”

“Yeah, to talk to Fritsch. Not to go fight Nisha or anything like that. Didn’t you want me to be more hands-on?”

Fuckin’—

Gage looked down at the shitty star pattern on the faded blue carpet.

Of course. Of course he wanted her acting like she owned the place, because that was the only damn attitude that raiders payed attention to. But she had to know that running off without a word to talk to an unaffiliated repairman wasn’t what he had in mind.

“You know this ain’t what I meant.”

“Do I know that?” She took her boots off the table and sat up a little straighter. “Because listening to my constituents seems like doing my job.”

“Listening to your what?”

“Fritsch. He wanted me to fight in the arena.”

“And you said no?”

“Absolutely!” She shot up from the couch, throwing her arms up. “He wanted me to fight a super mutant. There is no way in hell I am fighting a super mutant alone.”

At least she’d thought something through.

A super mutant in the gauntlet. If he weren’t so mad, he woulda said she’d made a good call in having the other raiders torture it to death. It should at least keep them happy and preoccupied for a bit, which was always good. But that didn’t erase the fact that she’d done all that alone. That’d he’d woken up and she’d been gone.

“Do you know what might have happened to you if someone had heard you say “no” to a fight?”

Corinne sputtered for a second. Mouth open. Mouth closed. Jaw clenched. Hands on her hips. Couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but she sure as hell wasn’t just agreeing with him, which meant that whatever she was about to say was dead wrong.

Finally, finger in his face, she hissed “so what? You’d have me fight a super mutant voluntarily?”

That wasn’t even the point. This wasn’t even the point of the whole thing, but somehow they’d spiraled off track and he couldn’t even begin to think about how to explain to her that she was fuckin’ mortal and that some of those raiders wouldn’t hesitate to gut her if they thought they had the chance.

“I ain’t sayin’ that,” he growled.

“No. You aren’t.” Her tone spiked, arms stretched out. “You aren’t saying anything helpful, really. You’re just yelling at me for doing my job, and last I checked around here, I was the one in charge. Not. You.”

Not him.

Oh, for sure he knew she was in charge and not him. Cuz if he was in charge? He wouldn’t make stupid calls. He wouldn’t put himself in danger just because. He wouldn’t argue with good advice. He wouldn’t go prancing off to a place where he was likely to get stabbed in the throat just to talk to a mechanic about some bloodsport, cuz he wouldn’t go fuckin’ anywhere without someone watching his back. Because he knew better.

Fritsch was smart and kept to himself for the most part, but he didn’t ever claim to know how to run this place, and there was no way in hell that he’d stick his neck out to keep her safe, push comes to shove. Can’t alienate the folks who pay for his meals; Frisch ain’t the type to shit where he eats. And she may not have had the time to ask him for help in the first place, because she probably hadn’t seen noticed the gaggle of mask-wearing jackasses sitting just around the corner, fiddling with their knives. If those Disciples had realized she was alone. If they’d followed her out of that place. If they’d gotten her by herself—

She’d be gone. If he hadn’t shown up, there was a fair chance she’d be gone and he’d be finding chunks of her all around the park.

Didn’t want to think about that.

“Do that again,” he said through grit teeth, “and you’ll regret it.”

“Mmhm.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious.” He stepped in close to catch her eye. “That was risky. You know how many people would be pissed off that you didn’t take the fight? If I hadn’t turned up, those Disciples in the back room might have gutted you for turning Fritsch down. You ever seen what the Disciples do to folks they don’t like? For once in your goddamned life, just think shit through.”

She blinked. Jaw locked up and lips pressed together in a hard line. He realized he was towering over her, right in her damned space, and he straightened out. Took a step back.

“I’m serious,” he said again. Just for something to say.

“I heard you.”

He wanted to retort. Tell her off. Remind her that he was on her fuckin’ side. But his mouth felt dry and his head ached and for a minute there, he couldn’t think of a damn word to add to the conversation.

“Is that all you had to say, Gage?” Her tone was crisp and sharp, like falling through the ice on a barely frozen-over lake.

Outside, the sun burned bright through the windows behind her. Vibrant blue, cloudless sky extended out like someone had spilled paint. In the distance, one of those mangled birds he saw sometimes landed and perched on the wall around Nuka Town, its dark wings a black splotch on the horizon. The flat, dusty earth stretched out as far as he could see and he had the strange thought that they were on an island but somehow, he was still alone out here. Stranded in this strange place that ain’t quite land and ain’t quite sky.

He looked at her again. Angry—her chest heaving, eyes hard, shoulders squared. And she coulda been gone. That’s what this was all about. Not that she made a bad call, cuz she’d made bad calls before. That she coulda been gone, and he wouldn’t have had a single say in that. Might not even have known till it was way too late. For all the times he felt like they were a team, this was the reminder that she was gonna do what she wanted, and that there wasn’t anything he could do to stop her.

And he was tired. Plain and simple.

He shook his head, then, turned around, and slunk back through the doors and into the quiet dark of his old room.