#even this ask answer is a bonkers over explanation

[sunnynwanda]

Done

Part 2

Hero takes several steps back to gain momentum before throwing themselves down from the rooftop and into the back alley.

“You know what?” Villain comes to an abrupt halt, not really waiting for an answer. Out of everything they could have said at that moment - the words that followed were least expected. “I’m done.”

They remain still for several seconds, staring at each other in silence that is becoming increasingly deafening. “Come again?” Hero is flabbergasted as they take a step forward, half-expecting a wordplay or trick to be thrown their way.

“I’m done.” Villain repeats. Hero is not dense, okay? But they are going to need some elaborating on that one.  

“With what exactly?” They question, wary of whatever Villain has planned. Their peripheral vision scans their surroundings but fails to notice anything suspicious.

“With this,” Villain points between them, nodding their head for further confirmation. The explanation that follows leaves much to be desired. “With fighting. This city. Everything.”  

“Fucking pardon?” Hero did not want to sound so affected. Their pitch jumped much higher than they had anticipated. Villain seems oblivious to this, and Hero is thankful for that. “We���re in the middle of a battle.”

“Yeah, so?” They ask, weariness colouring their delicate features.

Hero takes another step towards their opponent, their decision to be careful long forgotten. They loathe the way their voice scratches their throat. “You can’t just walk out on me.”

“Watch me,” a forced smirk is all Villain can muster for their nemesis before their expression sets back into stolid apathy. They drop their weapon and leap the fence, deserting their weekly battle. Hero feels equal parts confused and abandoned. What on Earth was that?

“Hey, wait!” They catch up to Villain on a suburban rooftop when the sun is setting, painting the sky into a rainbow of colours. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” they don’t stop even when Hero reaches them, instead quickening their steps. “I’m just done.”

“But how can you...” they reach for Villain’s shoulder, only for them to whirl around, impatient to get away and tired of communicating with their foe.  

“Listen, I’m tired, okay?” They exclaim, catching Hero off guard with the emotional outburst. Still, it’s an explanation. If that’s the way to get it, Hero doesn’t mind. “We’re doing the same old thing over and over again, and it’s gone stale.”

Hero nods, prompting them to keep going. Villain runs a palm over their face, brushing a strand of hair back before continuing. “I feel no rush for our battles anymore. It’s not fun; there are no stakes.” They sigh, deflating back into the lethargic state of indifference. “We both know I’m not going to ruin the city for real, and you won't end me.”

“Are you serious right now?” Hero is puzzled, to say the least. Is this idiot gone completely bonkers? “How is that an issue?”

“There’s no thrill anymore!” Villain screams out in exasperation. Their hands fly up as they attempt to convey what they feel. Or rather, what they don’t feel. “No adrenaline! Do you not understand?”

“I think I’m starting to.” Hero is silent for several moments, allowing their words to sink in. “And I’m offended.” They conclude, much to Villain’s surprise.

“Excuse me?” Villain asks, amusement evident in their features. Well, that’s something. We can work with that.

“I thought this was supposed to be the best time of your week,” Hero reminds and a part of Villain feels guilty for letting them down.  

“And it was,” they agree, before shaking their head, “but it’s not doing it for me anymore.”

Hero’s lips purse. “So what are you gonna do? Find a different city and...” They trail off without finishing the thought.

“And what?” Villain inquires, but Hero remains silent, their gaze fixed on the sunset. They look upset and lonely, and Villain doesn’t like that.

When they finally speak up, Villain feels like the air got knocked out of their lungs. “And a new hero to bother?”

“Hero, please, that’s not what I meant..” they start, but Hero doesn’t seem to listen. “And no, no other heroes for me. It’s not you, okay? It’s me.” Villain even goes so far as to take their hand in theirs.  

“That’s what they always say,” Hero’s voice is quiet and almost too small for their usual bubbly personality. They look like a puppy left out in the rain, and Villain knows whose fault it is.  

“Damn it, Hero, I am not breaking up with you!” They attempt to reason. Hopefully, enough arguments will put Hero’s heart at rest. “And it’s not like we’re dating, we’re enemies.”

Except, Hero’s eyes glint dangerously the moment they finish their thought. They release their hand from Villain’s and take a step forward. Villain backs away, not quite able to decipher the eerie vibe that’s taken hold of their nemesis. “What?”

“So you miss the thrill?” Hero looks intimidating in the evening shadows; their eyes are dark as they bore into Villain’s.

“Y-yes,” they squeak out, taking another step back. “Why are you...”

Hero interrupts, ignoring the question they were trying to pose. “And if we add a different type of thrill?”

“What are you implying, and why am I sensing something dangerous?” Instead of taking one more step back, Villain stops, determining to face whatever Hero is about to throw their way. They might have been bored but never shied away from a fight. They are not a coward.

“Oh, cause it is,” Hero confirms, an ominous grin stretching their lips. They take one final step forward and press Villain up against the wall behind their back. Villain is too stunned to speak, so they glare at Hero in shock.

“I think there are ways I can give you an adrenaline rush...” Hero claims, pushing Villain’s chin up with a finger before wrapping their fingers around their neck and finishing the thought. “Other than fighting.”

Their fingers slide behind Villain’s neck, tilting their head back for better access as they kiss their way down from Villain’s chin. They bite the sensitive skin right below Villain’s ear, then lick it, earning a soft gasp from their nemesis.

“Does this seem boring to you too?” Hero asks, trailing kisses along their jawline, then back to their neck, leaving a bite on the opposite side of the first before sucking the reddened skin.

“N-no... fuck, Hero, do that again,” Villain is fumbling with their words, unable to process the situation yet.

“As you wish.” Hero’s smile is all teeth, but they don’t oblige yet, pressing themselves flush against Villain’s body. Their breathing pattern is wild, heart hammering inside their chest. They can feel Villain’s pulse under their lips, which isn't helping their case.

“I think we should... ah, shit... should move this somewhere more private,” Villain is positively surprised their brain is still functioning, let alone coming up with such bright ideas.

Hero chuckles, smiling with a teasing glint in their eyes. “Weren’t you the one asking for stakes? For fun? Risk?”

Villain looks scandalized. “Not that much!”

Hero laughs out loud, throwing their head back. They drag their lips over Villain’s jaw to their lips, covering them in an impatient kiss. Their fingertips ghost over Villain’s inner thigh, teasing a panic in their eyes before they plant another kiss on their lips and step back, leaving Villain breathless and exhilarated for what’s next.

“Follow me.”

Part 2

Masterlist

[aeraspais]

I also joined after bi Buck and I also get the sense that I'm watching a different show than half the fans - and I think that about the fans that were jumping on BuckT/ommy endgame after two episodes (just absurd) and those who love Eddie but think anything bad happening to him is a punishment. The set-up for Buddie seems extremely obvious to me once I tune out the fandom noise. They're not switching from a queer Eddie plot to a queer Buck plot that quickly if there weren't plans for both of them. Eddie being compared directly to Tommy multiple times was not an accident, neither was Eddie being all over the coming out plot, Maddie's bonkers "if there's something you need to tell Eddie" line, Tommy not wearing a costume while Buddie are matching (pure romcom shit), Eddie not wanting to fuck either of his female love interests (like he says it out loud not subtext), Buddie being presented as a family unit with Chris right from episode one, them being joined at the hip all season - I could go on. Them unpacking Eddie's delusions about his relationship with Shannon could not come at a better time. Yeah there was a PR shift after 706 but if they had really shut it down, they wouldn't be allowed to ask about it in interviews at all. And Oliver being so emphatic about not wanting to bait and being a Buddie warrior all season also speaks volumes. It's a soap opera, let it cook.

Here I thought I would regret allowing anons after such a long break without them, but I digress—thank you. I've grown so frustrated by the Eddie fans who've spent the past couple weeks arguing that he's being punished by the narrative. Like I fundamentally disagree and cannot really understand how they got there. I get having doubts or concerns about how everything might get resolved next season, but the complete write-off is just insane to me. Just listening to (or, rather, reading) Ryan's answers shows how much care and pride he has for Eddie's storyline. There is a lot of thought behind Tim Minear's intentions and the choice to do the Vertigo homage. At no point does the show asks us to laugh at Eddie. Frankly that's just all audience projection because the show was asking, no, outright begging us to empathize with him. Eddie is terrified of living for himself and prioritizing his emotional needs, especially now that Christopher's growing up and becoming more independent. It makes sense that Eddie, the character that we've seen over the course of six seasons, retreat to a fantasy. Even though neither he nor Shannon happy, their marriage was the only time he feels like he provided Christopher everything. Like everything else you pointed out is also completely true. The season open and closed with Eddie asking Buck for his assistance, which I cannot stress enough, he'd never directly asked of Ana or Marisol. The Tommy of it all. Literally the only reason he isn't getting the filler girlfriend treatment from this fandom is that he's white man. Maddie's baffling reactions, lol.

Like the PR shift can even be explained because I don't think LFJ was supposed to say this:

My friend and I go back and forth by the meaning of "that fell through," but either way, it's still been very clear that dragging Edmundo "Eddie" Díaz out the closet is still very much in the works for 9-1-1 now on ABC. There's zero explanation for Eddie's current storyline, they're capitalizing on some things that had been set into motion last season when he started his Shannon idealization while still only connecting her to motherhood. Oliver gets a lot of attention for being a Buddie Warrior, but lol Ryan Guzman is right there with him. The only difference is that he clearly got coached because even when he calls Eddie heterosexual, he's still answering with enough fluidity that creates doublespeak and causes doubt. Every single interview Ryan has done post midseason hiatus is the most circular bullshit I have ever read or listened to, but for whatever reason that shit is given more respect than him openly saying this after 705.

Basically, long story short, I AGREE thank you for giving me this platform to be insane, I wish I had turned it back on earlier lol.

[gay-edwardian]

Do people on Tumblr listen to The Bugle/Gargle/Last Post? Idk. But people NEED to know about D'Ancey LaGuarde because 1) they would do numbers on Tumblr and 2) I think the woman behind them is so smart and funny and she deserves all the success in the world.

Just listen to a few of the synopses! D'Ancey is a reclusive genderqueer erotic novelist who has a penchant for Isambard Kingdom Brunel and is sort of able to travel dimensions and can, more impressively, publish one book approximately every four days. Their name is spelt that way because it was funny to look at and no one expected the listeners to have to spell it.

And for a more doylist (but no less enthused) explanation of D'Ancey's work:

In 2019 Austrailian comedian Alice Fraser committed to doing a daily satirical news podcast for Every Single Day of 2020. But there's a catch, it's not in our world. She calls it "the most final of worlds" but there are certainly some key differences. For example, The Wiggles are the government of Italy through a glitch in the voting process that allowed babies on iPads to vote and people who are definitely one thing in our world are a totally different thing, such as the unsuccessful children's party Neil Gaiman impersonator and successful Neil Gaiman ghostwriter @neil-gaiman (I hope he doesn't mind me tagging him here, he did actually appear in episodes 336, 342, and 365). The episodes are only 15 minutes or so each and they all include Alice and her co-host for the episode breaking down a few news headlines of the day (the absurdity of those headlines varies from "hey that happened in our world" to "oh this is bonkers"), answer listener questions (or rather, get annoyed with the listeners for "asking stupid questions"), and most importantly for this case, run ads.

The most common ad is for Half a Glass of Water but that's not what I'm here to talk about. Starting at episode 9, every four episodes or so would include one of the above synopses, summaries that would force Alice to fight off giggles even though she was the one who wrote them (she always insists that she reads the ads exactly as D'Ancey sent them to her). And then The Last Post ended. The world became a post apocalyptic wasteland and the only source of news, a woman floating in her podcasting satellite, ran off into space with the glitch in the spacetime continuum.

But then Alice started a new satirical news podcast, The Gargle. This one is weekly and set in our actual world. She covers news that doesn't have to do with politics (people being arrested for stupid things, scientists being freaks, etc.) but has continued to run her own ads for Half a Glass of Water and (much to my delight) D'Ancey LaGuarde novels.

And now we're getting a book. Not a romance novel, mind you, but The D'Ancey LaGuarde Reader.

I am currently re-listening to The Last Post and while I would recommend it to anyone it is also very very long, despite having quite short episodes. Someone with more sense than I could probably assemble a list of the major plot points so that one could get the full scope of the story without having to listen to over 300 episodes.

[mego42]

Hi!! Was just wondering if you have any Brio fic updates you’ll be posting soon? Obsessed with your writing!

ahhhhh thank you!!! you are too kind!!!

I guess it depends on your definition of soon? I have a lot of stuff I’m working on and am pretty far along into, it’s just been going a bit slowly for life reasons (we’ve been temporarily short-staffed at my job which has unfortunately coincided with bringing on some big new clients so I’m working crazy hours and then also took on a p big freelance project at the same time bc I make questionable choices but also bc it’s a v awesome project and I’m hoping to be able to brag about it soon)

THAT SAID I’ve got a lot of stuff p far along including:

ch 2 of swear! fully drafted, def in need of another major editing pass though. there’s a tension/tone through-line that’s not quiiiiiiite right and I’ve been trying to sort it out by writing Rio POV outtakes bc why not

ch 3 of swear! I’m trying really hard not to post for this fic until I have a chapter banked both for accountability reasons and also bc I’ve got a lot of threads woven into the fic that I’m trying to keep track of and it’s helpful to be able to bounce back a chapter and tweak things to properly set up stuff in the next chapter. I’m about a quarter/third or so into it but I’ve lowkey dropped it for now to focus ooooooooon...

the last chapter of song!! at last! it’s happening! highkey inspired to jump back in by a truly lovely comment @whiskeyjack left me and @xenalovesoq and her group chat’s unflagging enthusiasm, I am about 15K into the draft and *laugh nervously* a third of the way through my outline so that’s gonna be a monster

I’ve also got a bunch of other projects in various stages of outlining and drafting that are v much on my mind but def not a current priority like the others (Beth POV for listening, buffyverse if I can detangle the plot, the pacific rim AU I add a sentence or two to whenever I’m stuck on something else, the sex pollen I wrote half of and then paused to write swear).

so yeah, lots of stuff happening but nothing close enough that I’m comfortable predicting a timeline I’d inevitably fail at anyway. I’m not sure what’s going to get posted first tbh, I’d say probably song because that’s what I’m focused on rn but editing is going to be a bit of a thing given how long it’s shaping up to be (jfc oh god what am I doing) so idk!!

I wish I had a better answer but here! have a (rough, unedited) snippet from song for your troubles!

"What are you doing here," she hisses.

Her eyes dart from Rio's face to over his shoulder, sweeping the midway to see if anyone's watching them, and then back. The corner of his mouth tugs up like he knows what she's doing and it's funny. She locks onto the motion, the shrieking sounds of the carnival around them falling away. Midday sunshine giving way to deep, dark midnight blue in her mind’s eye.

Between her kids and then Rio having Marcus for a few days, Beth hadn't seen him since that night at the bar a full week ago. After she'd explained her plan to his satisfaction, she'd realized it was getting late, and she had to get home. He’d walked her out to the van and the unexpected gallantry of the gesture caught her off guard, and something bloomed, warm and sparkling in her chest. Then, alone in the parking lot, he'd pinned her up against the side of it, burying his face in her neck and pressing his hips into hers. Her moan when she felt him hard against her mingled with his answering one when she rolled her own hips right back, echoed together through the still, silent night. 

Beth thought about yanking open the door of the van and tugging him inside. She knew he wouldn't object from the nearly frantic urgency of his hands gripping her waist, shoving up under her shirt, hot and rough against her skin. He'd cupped her breasts, his thumbs swiping across her nipples and pressing down. She'd gasped and arched against him, her nails digging into his shoulders through his shirt when he'd bit down on her neck in response. 

A part of her wanted that—him—quick and furtive in the back of the van, too desperate for each other to wait. But another part thought of the reality of Emma's Barbie's digging into her back, the graham cracker crumbs she’s pretty sure the seats spontaneously generate at this point embedding themselves in her skin, the smell of apple juice and kid sweat that never entirely dissipates hanging around them and that isn't—she doesn't—

This thing between them feels different now. New and precious and somehow heavier and more fragile than it ever has before. It's a beginning, and Beth wants more for it—them—than a rushed hookup in a parking lot before they go their separate ways. 

So she’d gently pushed him away and he'd let go of her immediately, even if he'd taken a beat to inhale deep against her skin before stepping all the way back. 

When he'd met her eyes, Beth had known she didn't need to explain, and when he reached out a hand, pinky extended, her own had fluttered closed as he'd gently nudged her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.

"Next time."

Impact against her thighs snaps her back to the present, and Beth realizes she's swayed forward into the table between them. She can feel her blush flare, heating her cheeks and chest, but can't bring herself to be too embarrassed when she sees the way Rio's eyes have gone dark and hooded. 

His lips part, and Beth can see the tip of his tongue pressed lightly against his teeth. She imagines leaning in, closing the distance, and sinking her teeth into his full, lush—

“Jesus Christ!” 

[hanazou]

hi! i see an author writes for the DOA, and i absolutely go bonkers. could you please write some HCs (or whatever's most convenient) about Nikolai and/or Sigma teaching someone how to tie their shoes? please i know it sounds so odd but i STILL don't know how to tie shoes. thank you!

𝙣𝙞𝙠𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙞 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙢𝙖 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙞𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨

Book : Nikolai | Sigma

Genre : Fluff, (implied) romance

Shelf : Leather-bound

Note : You absolutely can, dearie! I thought about making scenarios instead but I think it's more fun to make them hcs hehe 💗 i hope u enjoy! feel free to request another if u don't 👌🏻

Nikolai isn’t aware of your inability to tie shoe laces but he does notice how you always wear the type of shoes without laces since he’s secretly perceptive. He notices the variety of colours of your shoes for the day (it’s a habit of his because he pays close attention to his own clothes), things like that, and doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

Because he’s a playful fellow, jumping around here and there (quite literally), you have to be physically active to be around him, meaning you have to move (run) a lot which leads to the subject of your inability to be mentioned sooner or later.

When he thinks about it, he notices that you wear various types of shoes but never running shoes with laces, which he thinks is the best type for you to wear if you’re with him. You can’t keep wearing impractical shoes like loafers, heels, or even slippers if you want to keep up with his… terrorism antics.

“You can’t keep up with me with those shoes forever, dove!” Nikolai pulls both your hands while walking backwards so he can keep seeing your face. You tell him there aren’t any other shoes around there you can easily change into, and he offers the solution.

“Absolutely no problem!” Nikolai activates his Overcoat, dips his hand into the empty space, and takes out a pair of running shoes, hanging from his grip by the laces. “Here you go!”

While you hesitantly accept the brand new running shoes you’re sure he stole from somewhere, you admit that you don’t know how to tie the laces, which also explains why you never wear this type of shoes. Nikolai sees no problem with that and instead sees this as a fun opportunity to teach you something new.

To him, it feels like teaching a kid, which makes him feel elated because it fits his youthful personality. 

“You should’ve told Gogol! I can teach you how!” He takes the shoes from you and gets on his knees. “Step out of your shoes for a while!”

Maybe too elated. He’s so enthusiastic about it that when he teaches you, his rambles would be a little too fast for you to keep up. Nikolai also uses magic show analogies, such as saying that the loops are bunny ears.

Nikolai teaches you a lot of hacks and styles he knows of, sometimes rambling off topic about how he discovered each of them, and then getting back on track with an “Oops! So, back to what I was saying~”

From your perspective, looking at Nikolai from above who shrinks into a crouch who's happily yapping about how to tie shoelaces, giving his personal hacks and favourite styles here and there, makes you feel adored. The enthusiasm in his voice is unmatched.

Make sure you listen carefully because when he’s done demonstrating, he asks you to do the other one yourself. When you kneel down to redo what he did while muttering his explanation, mentioning the same analogies, Nikolai watches you with hands on his cheeks and a big smile on your face as if he’s a child admiring his favourite TV show.

If you’re hesitant in the steps or forget how to do it halfway, he takes the initiative to help you by holding your hands in his to guide you, making sure that you’re following just fine.

When you get to the last step, which is to knot the loops, he tests you. “Pop quiz! What comes after making the bunny ears?” If you get the answer right, Nikolai would be so happy that you actually listen to him.

“Ding Ding, correct!”

After you finish tying it, Nikolai attacks you in a huge hug, pushing you off your feet till you roll on your back on the ground. “Aren’t you a fast learner? It’s so fun watching my own bunny tie a bunny ear knot! If you forget next time, ask Gogol to teach you!”

Bonus: if you start to wear shoes with laces around him more often, this sneaky clown will definitely try to trip you by stepping on the lace.

It’s the little things like this that he enjoys before finally achieving true freedom.

Sigma, although very perceptive and observant, is a busy man on a daily basis. He may notice what kind of shoes you wear daily since it’s his habit from running Sky Casino to observe everything, but he doesn’t really connect the dots on why you never wear shoes with laces.

After carefully choosing his words, he politely asks if the reason you never wear shoes with laces is because of financial problems, which he explains is something he can assist with.

“Or maybe it’s because you don’t like that kind of shoes?” Sigma thumbed his chin. “They’re usually flexible and comfortable to wear though,”

When you explain to him that it’s because you don’t know how to tie the laces, he nods slowly, processing your answer. Unlike Nikolai who sees this as an opportunity to have some fun with you, Sigma bears no particular opinion. Since he’s still a man who’s still learning about this world, he sees your inability as another normal thing that just, happens, with some people. If anything, he sees this as a chance to learn more about how people have diverse colourful aspects to them.

One day, he invites you over to his office and asks you to sit down, presenting a box of brand new laced shoes to you.

“I hope you don’t find this offensive, but if you’d like, I can teach you how to tie your shoelaces.” He scratches his cheek, nervously smiling. He’s hoping for you to say yes, and boy do those shoes look expensive.

Remember when I said Sigma doesn’t have any opinion about this? Maybe he does, and he only realized it when carefully picking those shoes for you. He’s looking forward and even was excited to teach you something he knows, since assisting those precious to him is what gives him a reason for existing.

If you agree to let him demonstrate how, Sigma kneels in front of you, posing like a prince from a children’s story, and places your heel on his thigh so you can perfectly see how it’s done from your seat (he’s a gentleman I love him).

Sigma teaches you the most straightforward shoelace tying method he knows, uses his most gentle voice, and makes sure you can keep up with his explanation and demonstration by occasionally asking if you’re still following.

He offers to teach more tricks and tips he learned from the internet when he first tried to learn tying his own laces. When he does this, his speech speeds up a bit and his smile grows, mirroring his enthusiasm.

Sigma secretly wants you to ask more things. Sigma has memorized the types of shoes with laces his customer in Sky Casino wears, why they wear that type, what kind of model fits certain types of people, and he’s excited to share his knowledge with you.

He makes sure that the knots on your new shoes are tightly done but not too strong around your foot.

“I made sure the size fits your feet before buying them, I hope your feet aren't hurting.” He fidgets.

Sigma asks if you’d like to tie the other one yourself or if you want him to repeat it. If you want to do it, he watches you and kindly offers corrections if you did a step wrong. If you want him to repeat his example, he’d be more than happy to.

Bonus: If you wear the shoes Sigma gifts you around Sky Casino, he’ll subtly blush and ask if they’re comfortable to wear (they better be, since he was careful in picking that pair) and whether you’re happy with how they look.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

[barnesbabee]

Damn what did Jennie do to be called “that thing”? I don’t follow like kpop tea super closely so maybe I missed something...?

Also fucking Dispatch man, they really do be dropping shit to cover up all the recent bullying accusations

~ Fae💫

I wasnt going to answer any more asks about it, I was just gonna go bye bye and enjoy life as I did before I was a kpop stan (that is unless YG comes out and says it's a lie, which is what we're praying for on this side), but I figured since I'm hating on Jennie so much, I might as well give you an explanation.

And before anyone comments 'WOW YOU'RE SO OBSESSED WITH HER', I used to be a blink. Shocker, I know, but what a lot of you don't know is that I'm a YG stan, meaning I love all groups under YG. Blackpink were ANNOUNCED and I already loved them, that's right, pre-debut. I was a fan up until ddu ddu ddu era, after that it eventually went downhill.

Just a little background was needed.

Disclaimer: I absolutely adore Jisoo and Rosé is indifferent for me. My problem lies with the other two. Jennie especially, Lisa is more of a 'I don't like her attitude' kinda thing, I don't hate her.

Onto my essay we go.

1. The fact that she's a spoiled little bitch who got everything she wanted before, and still gets everything she wants now is appalling. Her family is filthy rich so she probably just woke up one day and said 'gee I want to be an idol, even though I have no skills that stand and I don't even live in Korea this seems pretty cool'.

The point here is that she always gets what she wants.

Don't believe me? Her nickname is YG's princess.

Still think I'm exaggerating? Ok.

Jennie was the ONLY ONE out of the group who got a solo.

Jennie got a solo while they still had promotions going on. Jennie had group AND solo promotions. While that happened, Soohyun from AKMU (AKMU is a group under YG formed by two siblings, a girl and a boy) was left TO STARVE. Her brother went to the army and for 3 fucking years she was left to nothing. Her brother said she even wrote a whole album and YG said no. Instead Jennie got her solo. Soohyun had to wait over a year after that to get a song to come out, which totals to 3 years she waited for a comeback.

And please, someone riddle me this, I beg of you. WHY did Jennie get the solo. She's not exceptional at dancing, she's not exceptional at singing, she's not exceptional at rapping. I don't even know how she got this famous within the group, Rosé's got the vocals, Lisa has the dance skills, Jisoo has the face, what does Jennie have? Why did she get the solo? Why not Rosé? Jennie keeps hogging brand deals and front row seats at fashion shows and instead of giving Jisoo and Rosé a chance Yg said 'here my little baby, take this chance and make a very basic and underwhelming song that everyone will love regardless for some reason'

And the fact that she didn't have any repercussions (believe me, when YG punishes someone, you can tell. Just look at Hanbin, he got kicked out bc one time he thought of buying drugs :D) after breaking one of YG's biggest rule is appalling to me.

For whoever doesn't know, YG hates happiness and love and he doesn't let artists date. Now I don't know what the contract says, but just so you know, Bobby from ikon said in an interview during Killing Me era (2018) that they weren't even allowed to be in the same room as the female trainees. iKon debuted in 2015. And Jennie, in 2019 (3 years after their debut, just like the 3 years that had passed for ikon at the time of bobby saying that) was caught getting into Kai's car and it later came out that they were dating. Bonkers, I know.

But she still got away with it.

2. The 'injury'

Now I started hating Jennie around the lazy Jennie period.

Basically she was performing with the happiness and energy of a fat girl running the mile in P.E class. If she could look any more uninterested she would be a corpse.

Now later it came out that she twisted her ankle and that's why she was performing that way. However, last time I checked ankle injuries don't affect face muscles or arm movements.

GD had a heat stroke mid concert. He performed with T.O.P, right after that he had a heat stroke and in the 4 minutes T.O.P was performing a solo he got better, because after top he had a solo to perform and fans paid for a show, and G-Dragon delivered a show.

The thing that I really don't understand was the way she performed her solo and the group songs was completely different. And that's what triggered me. Like oh during your solo youre busting your ass but in the group songs I guess it's not worth it.

She could have AT LEAST made a less bored face.

So, so many idols perform with injuries. So, so many idols perform while their mental condition is absolutely fucked. Is it messed up? Yes, yes it is.

And do I know how much it hurts to force your body through pain? Absolutely I do. I'm the only libero in my team, my knee is fucked and my back is begging me to stop but I couldn't stop because my team needed me and even if my back pain wakes me up at night I play as if everything was alright because that's what I'm there for.

And that's what she signed up for. What? Once inconveniences hit suddenly being an idol isnt cool anymore?

Try being Rosé, she busts her ass and she changed her voice to what YG wanted and he still ignores her and gives her no brand deals. You can look up how neglected she is.

that's why I dislike her, some people like her you're very much in your right to disagree with me

[jacksgreysays]

Hail to the Queen, Shikako, Uzushio remix?

it could have gone like this:

"Not it!" Tatsuma shouts, such an abrupt and loud interjection to their otherwise calm conversation that Shikako startles.

Hiki and Yose, quick to follow, exchange a glance before putting their index fingers to the tips of their noses, also declaring, "Not it!"

In a bewildering cascade, the other department heads do the same. Some more graceful than others, but no less swift, until at the end of it Shikako is the only one left in the room who hasn't disavowed... whatever is going on.

Kairyu, the ancient and wizened head of the summoning department, gives Shikako a wide and alarmingly sadistic smile. "Congratulations, Uzukage-sama," he says.

"What." Shikako looks around, trying to find the context clues that will make that statement understandable. The other department heads smile back at her with varying levels of glee. They don't look like Kairyu has said anything bizarre such as declaring her, an outsider, Uzukage. "What, no."

They continue to smile at her, some of them going so far as to similarly congratulate her for becoming Uzukage.

"Nooooooo," she says, drawing the word out. "No, this can't be how--no, this doesn't make any..." Shikako looks down at the sheaf of papers in front of her, the reports from each of the heads summarizing their respective departments' latest research and achievements.

In the past few years since Shikako has settled in this world--and, more specifically, in Uzushio--she's had to adjust to their way of life. The society built around innovation and creativity, the common and almost casual use of fuinjutsu to break and remake reality was easy. Less so was their sense of humor. 

The village has accepted her with aplomb, generous and encompassing, and Shikako thinks if she cannot go home, then this is a satisfactory second place. She could maybe do with a little less pranking, but that's apparently just how communication and affection is done in Uzu culture.

Incredulous, she looks back up at them. "This can't possibly be how you choose the Uzukage."

Kairyu strokes his chin; despite his age, his beard still has hints of red in it, a sign of the famous Uzumaki vitality. "It used to follow a bloodline and it was a life term sort of thing."

Shikako nods, because that at least makes sense; that's how Sand and Stone do it, at least.

"But we decided that wasn't fair..." he continues, and Shikako nods at that, too. Monarchies aren't known for being a government of equal and just representation.

"... because what if they wanted to go into academia and were forced instead into leadership? For life? Can you imagine the inventions trapped and forever denied to us because they were busy with diplomacy or war? Just imagine the advancements we could have lost! So we decided a five year term was long enough for stability, but short enough that the Uzukage wouldn't stagnate too much in their chosen field."

Shikako does not nod at this. This is a bonkers way to choose a leader. Then again, Uzushio is weird enough that this might not actually be a joke. "... and the deciding process?"

Hiki and Yose pat her shoulders in a commiserating manner. "The mathematics department thanks you for your service, Uzukage-sama," Hiki says.

"The music department is a wretched hive of near constant activity," Yose adds, fondly disparaging her own department. "I can't even imagine handing it over to my deputy for five whole years just to run the village."

Tatsuma shakes his head solemnly, "I'm sure you'll be faster next time, Uzukage-sama."

---

it should have gone like this:

Later, when she and Naruto are trying to figure out how it all happened, the two of them in the neutral--or, perhaps more accurately, mutually claimed--territory of Land of Wave it will be Tsunami who provides an explanation.

"It's an Oath of the Ocean," she says simply, a gentle smile on her face. Shikako wonders if she feels at all weird that the Hokage and Uzukage use her house as a meeting spot or if she just sees them both as the twelve year olds she met all those years ago.

Naruto crinkles his nose in confusion while Shikako wracks her brain desperately for any memory of that phrase. Nothing is coming up, but she's only been Uzukage for a few months and there have been a lot of higher priority matters to deal with. They look at her beseechingly and her cheek dimples with amusement: that's a point for the twelve year olds.

Tsunami joins them at her dining table and two of the most powerful people in the Elemental Nations eagerly defer to her. "It's something my mother used to tell me stories of when I was a little girl," she begins while Shikako pours her tea, the steam of it wafting up and adding to the ambiance. "Daring tales of adventure and camaraderie, the power of loyalty and devotion and promises..." 

While entertaining, the stories for the most part followed a similar train of heroism, sacrifice, and the sort of happily ever afters that could only exist in a shinobi society. They did involve two or more heroes, at least, which somewhat matched their current situation, but otherwise the tales were so disparate that Shikako couldn't see the common thread.

"... I believe she said that ninja of the Hidden Leaf had a similar thing--something to do with fire, I think?" Tsunami concluded, taking a sip of her tea.

"The Will of Fire?" Naruto asks, glancing from Tsunami to Shikako in confirmation.

"Hm, yes, that sounds like it," Tsunami says. "But it was so long ago."

Shikako hums, considering. The Will of Fire is an actual phenomenon, even if it's been largely couched in PR terms that obfuscate the science behind it. The other villages have their own sort of strange skills--like the Hero's Water of Hidden Waterfall or the Desert Scions of Sand--so perhaps that's what the Oath of the Ocean is as well.

Although how it can do so much with so little is baffling:

Naruto needed to be present at the Chuunin Exams in Cloud as Hokage. Jokingly, he had said to Shikako, "Look after my village while I'm gone."

Shikako had responded with a fond roll of her eyes, "Your home is my home."

And when a gaggle of administrative nin carrying a ludicrous number of scrolls amongst them entered his office, Naruto grinned slyly. "And my people, your people," he said, clapping a hand on her shoulder before fleeing like the absolute coward any Hokage becomes when faced with paperwork.

That should have been it. 

Except a few days into her temporary regency, news came in of a grand fleet of ships that had made landfall in the ruins of Uzushio. And another few days after that, a pair of messengers with bright red hair introduced themselves as representatives of the Uzu Flotilla seeking their Uzukage.

Gamely, Shikako explained that their, well, princess was in another castle so to speak. And, also, already Hokage.

"The name Naruto Uzumaki is a good Uzukage name," one of the messengers, Nagare, says with a shrug.

"Very traditional," the other messenger, Mancho, pipes in agreement. "Also, very famous!"

"And that is why the elders considered bringing the flotilla back earlier. We heard tell of him even on our journey," Nagare continues, "But he's not our Uzukage."

Nodding, Mancho adds, "We'd know."

Desperately trying to hide her confusion, Shikako nods in return.

"We didn't sense them until, what, six maybe seven days ago?" Nagare asks, turning to Mancho.

"Eight, I think. Although those first few days there was a lot of partying so my count might be wrong, too."

Shikako deliberately does not think of the number of days since Naruto left Konoha. "So do you need help finding whoever is your new Uzukage?" she asks, hopefully.

Nagare and Mancho turn to her, both of them bemused. "Nooooo," Mancho says slowly.

Nagare answers, "We've already found her."

---

but it actually went like this:

When everything is over, the world in relative peace, Shikako requests herself for a mission. A training trip, she'd assured everyone, much like the one she took to the Fire Temple all those years ago.

Except this time it would be to the ruins of Uzushio.

The Hokage doesn't tell her no. This is the first thing she's wanted that had nothing to do with preventing the end of the world. And so she goes.

Nothing much happens on that first trip. It's largely exploring the area, carefully mapping out or weatherproofing the places she finds. Some buildings are relatively well preserved enough that she knows she can leave it for another time, others are so reduced to rubble that she can only mark the location and hope if anything is left there to salvage it will survive a while longer.

Before too long, her month is up and she goes back to Konoha vowing to return.

Progress is slow going, really. The second, third, and fourth trips are much the same. At this point her friends consider it more a personal vacation than sabbatical, akin to taking time off to go camping and enjoying the ocean air. They're not entirely wrong, but there is an unshakeable, lingering air of solemnity through it all.

The fifth trip she makes a D-rank so she can bring her students along without things going to hell in a hand basket. Thankfully, it works. And while there still isn't much in the way of fuinjutsu discoveries, it is a good trip.

The following trips, Shikako and her team clear and collect more and more to the point where now they have to spend more time collating and archiving than continuing their explorations. When she brings this up at a kunochi club meeting, Shiho's eyes brighten.

"And there's no danger?" Shiho asks, eager but still anxious.

"There's no danger," Shikako assures. "But even if there was, I will handle it. Everyone is under my protection." Shikako herself is still uneasy saying such things, but if it brings comfort to others, she'll let them use her reputation as a shield. 

With a gaggle of intel nin sorting through their findings, Shikako and her team are freed up again to explore. More progress is made in that trip than before, and while nothing particularly inspiring is found there are some techniques which improve existing practices or tweak them enough to cause vigorous discussion when Shikako returns to the RnD with notes.

It continues like this for a while, a fairly small operation.

Shikako has no idea how Kankurou finds out about it.

"I'm just going where the Kazekage sends me," Kankurou says, his own gaggle of intel nin clustered behind him. "It's not like your movements are exactly secret, and the old nags in Suna are making noises about Leaf expanding their territory."

Before she can protest, he continues, "I know that's not what it is, Gaara knows that's not what it is, but we still have to do something to keep them quiet. So hey, here's some of our nerds if you want to put them to work. That one in particular is good with reversing the effects of erosion." Kankurou points to one of the Sand nin who meeps and ducks his head. "They're your responsibility now. Have fun."

"And what are you going to do?" Shikako asks, eying him skeptically.

"Whatever I want? There's sand and there's sun. So it's kind of like home, except no one is bugging me to do anything," he answers.

Famous last words. Shikako does put him to work, using the puppets to go into areas where it's not structurally sound enough for humans. Although that has more to do with the fact that after three days of doing nothing he keeps distracting her genin out of boredom that, really, he was asking for it.

They discover so much.

The ball is rolling by that point. Other villages send representatives of their own, mostly researchers with one or two guards but even those guards join in the efforts. Soon the villages collectively decide to build an international outpost there to be maintained and staffed throughout the year. When her team are promoted to chuunin, Shikako spends more of her time supervising the outpost than in Konoha, though they are frequent visitors and researchers as well.

It's not the same, she knows. It's not a whole village thriving and growing, but it's people eager to learn and discover and create for the sake of knowledge and that, Shikako thinks, is close enough in spirit than what Uzushio has had for a long, long time.

And when she walks the land, she can feel that lingering air of solemnity has finally been lifted and replaced with something new.

~

A/N: .... ooOOOOOOOOOHHHH!!! Oh no, anon!!! You know how emotionally compromised I am by Uzushio!!! I am so immediately overwhelmed by my feels!!! I can't do this justice, I love my impossible, ideal Uzushio too much I can never convey it, but I tried, anon, I tried.

For the Could/Should/Actually Fic Ask Box Event!

[chibimyumi]

【Response to this post: “What does ‘transgender’ mean?” Explanation through a Pizza and Kuroshitsuji.】

Dear Anon,

I am by no means qualified to make statements about you since I don’t know who you are, but do allow me to suggest a few ideas.

The sexuality that comes to my mind from your ask is something that falls within the spectrum of Asexuality, named ‘Graysexuality’. As for what this is... I think it might be best if you read up on it a bit more if you’re interested, because this is too broad. But for now, I think this website might be helpful.

What you experience is not mainstream at all and rather complex, so forgive me for starting this post in what seems like a “Chibi, where the hell are you trying to go to?”

⚠️Disclaimer: EVERYTHING I will say below is simply food for thought. This post is by no means an essay to convince you (or anyone else) what sexuality you are.The below are simply SOME aspects from which you can consider whether asexuality applies to you. In the end of the day, whether you are ace or not, depends entirely on whether or not you feel comfortable calling yourself as such. ⚠️

1. Enjoyment of Romance vs Participation of Romance

The role of Fiction

First of all I would like to touch upon you saying that you do enjoy reading romance in fiction, but are horrified at the idea of actively participating in a romantic relationship.

I think your “I like it, but I also hate it” is a very normal thing. Fiction is a means through which people explore possibilities that would be impossible, dangerous/scary, or undesirable in real life. That is the whole point of fiction; that we are able to experience a life that doesn’t exist for us, or to re-live a life through someone else (who is just like us, or reversely, very different). That is why fiction matters, oh, people who have not noticed yet.

Perhaps active participation of romance is to you something that is ‘undesirable’ or even ‘dangerous/scary’, and that is why you enjoy it in fiction in the same way some people like reading dystopia stories. For example: “do people want to live in Victorian England where serial murders occur and people need to fight tooth and nail just to get by?” Well, I SURE HOPE NOT! But I know my blog audience consists mostly of Kuroshitsuji readers, and yet we are all here anyway.

Q1: Now, my first question to you is: “Do you perhaps only like the ‘idea of romance’ but not ‘romance it self’? Is ‘romance’ to you personally like ‘murderous 19th century England’? Exciting in theory, but terrible in practice?”

2. Allonormativity and “the broken aces”

Allonormativity - Socialisation and Romance-crazed-society

Our society is BONKERS about romance and treats the ‘achievement of romance’ as a person’s ‘holiest achievement’. Why? Because society wants us to make BABIES. But it can be a pain in the arse (literally), and many people might actually not want it. What did society do? Tell us that we WANT IT and sell us stories of GREAT LOVE sugarcoated in ✨romance✨. (A reminder that the notion of ‘romance’ being linked to ‘marriage’, and by extent, ‘procreation’ has not always existed in human society. It is since the more recent history that humans have come to think of these things to be intrinsically connected.)

Growing up, what is the most persistent question we hear? “Do you have a Boy/Girlfriend?”, “what is your type?”, “is that your partner, or are you JUST friends?” All these questions hold assumptions that it is ‘natural’ for people to want to be in a relationship. In particular, the last phrase also contains two very loaded words, namely 1. ‘partner’, and 2. ‘just’.

Partner: When the question about ‘partner’ is raised, people usually don’t ask:  “My partner in what...? Partner in crime? Partner in business?” That is because there is a silent assumption that this refers to ‘romantic partner’. If you do ask what ‘partner’ should refer to, however, the answer will be a variant on: “you know.... your PARTNER, your ‘lover’”. The word ‘partner’ is actually just a term for someone we are supposed to work in a team with. But over time, a ‘partner’ has come to be interpreted as the ONE person you want to bang AND are supposed to be ‘in a team with.’ It is assumed that “you can’t be someone’s partner if you don’t want to kiss them, and share the rest of your life with.” The suggestion that comes with this word is that ‘if you don’t have a romantic partner, you are alone.” (How often do we hear people say: “I don’t want to be alone” when they actually mean: I don’t want to NOT be in a romantic relationship?) This is also where ‘your other half’ as a term comes in; there is an assumption that you are ‘incomplete’ without someone you want to bang (and have babies with).  

JUST: As I have said before in this post, the word ‘just’ is a linguistic signifier that something is ‘trivial’ or ‘less important’. In this phrase, the ‘friend’ is assumed to be “not a partner” and likewise “less important than ‘partner’”.

Where am I going with this? As we can see, growing up we have been fed great stories of romance that brainwashed us with the idea that “it is normal to want a ‘partner’, or otherwise you are without someone to be in a team with.” You will be the ‘loner’ and excluded from ‘normal society’. This is allonormativity, wherein not being romantic is condemned. This is why many people rush into relationships, and often rather stay in a bad/abusive relationship than walk away; for fear of being ‘excluded’.

  “The sad, traumatised, broken aces”

The next thing I would like to throw out also as food for thought is about the knee-jerk reaction of “did something happen in the past?” when someone says they are not interested in dating or sex. There seems to be a common assumption that if someone doesn’t want ““to love and be loved””, there is something wrong with them.

I really don’t know you, so I am forced to make conclusions based on the little information from your ask. Please by ALL means ignore me if I am wrong, but this is just food for thought:

Q2: “is it possible that you suspected something was ‘wrong’ with you, but have no ‘trauma’ to explain this ‘wrongness’ about the way you feel? And did this suspicion that you are ‘abnormal’ lead you to visit a ‘doctor’, who in turn might have reinforced the idea that it is “odd to not want to be in a romantic relationship without prior trauma”? In other words; were you confronted with allonormativity but find yourself not to fit this norm? (If your doctor did instill the idea in you that it is ‘odd’ to not be romantically inclined without trauma, please tell them to educate themselves on asexuality, please. Please.)

In case it wasn’t clear what I am trying to say: someone does not need to be ‘broken’ to not (always) desire romance and/or sex.

3. Chocolate vs Water

There is a also common misconception among even the people who are familiar with the term ‘asexuality’ or ‘ace spectrum’: namely that asexuality is the same as abstinence or the absence of desire for sex/romance. This however, is very far from the truth.

I would say that sex and/or romance to allo people is like water; it is a necessity. Without water, they feel like they lack a basic life necessity to stay sane and healthy.

To ace people however, I suggest romance/sex is chocolate. Some people like chocolate, some people don’t. When someone says: “I don’t like chocolate”, they are usually met with disbelief: “WHAT, you don’t like chocolate?! What’s wrong with you?”

Ace people who DON’T like chocolate just don’t want it, and they’re not ill or something. They don’t need a sob story of how they choked on it or had an allergic reaction when they were little. These people do not have to hate on chocolate though. Perhaps it is like: “sure, chocolate looks pretty in food art, but do I want to eat it? Nah.”

Ace people who DO like chocolate eat it happily sometimes, but they will survive fine without chocolate. It’s something you must ‘feel like’. Just imagine car-sickness for now. You might love chocolate, but you might not even want to see it when you’re car-sick. You don’t ‘feel like it’.

4. Afterword

Dear Anon, I have rambled quite a lot, but I hope it is comprehensive. Again, I am not trying to impose any labels on you, I am simply trying to list and unpack a few ideas that may not have been considered yet. Again: whether or not someone is x/y/z-sexual depends on whether they feel that label fits them, after all.

To other people, perhaps it is interesting for you to consider these things too? Have you too been battered with allonormativity? Are sex and/or romance water to you, or chocolate?

Anyway, I hope this helps a little bit! (*´▽｀*)ノ

[the-vibe-dealer]

May this soul request some more skekUng vibes

Oh, absolutely you may!! For I am The Vibe Dealer!! The Dealer of Vibes!! So naturally you shall receive the best of SkekUng vibes!!

I wound up going absolutely bonkers with this, so a lot of it will be under the cut!! Catch me going nuts with fluff and longning tbh XD

Also!! If any of y’all want some ambient music that sort of matches the vibes I was going for, here you go!!

---

“What’s all this then, my love?”

You spun around at the sound, your face lighting up in an excited grin as you saw just who had entered the room.

“Ung! Welcome back!”

You trotted over to the skeksis in question, smiling up at him and hiding your hands behind your back. He leaned down slightly as you planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, a warm and excited fluttery feeling filling up your chest at the deep little chuckle he gave you in return.

“I’m glad you were actually able to sneak away,” you continued excitedly, bouncing up and down on your heels, “I was worried you wouldn’t come back until late!”

“Of course I was!” He replied, nuzzling into your neck and purring softly and contentedly, “Why would I disregard such a sweet request from my dearest one?”

You giggled at the feeling of his fluff brushing against your skin, bringing one hand up to settle against the side of his face and the other sneakily storing the small item you were holding into the pocket of your outfit. You gently trailed your hand down to the corner of his jaw, lingering there for a moment before planting another soft kiss to his beak and pulling away, smiling cheekily at the wonderfully contented expression that spread across his face.

“Of course, of course,” you chuckled quietly, “I would expect nothing less from you, my love.”

You moved to fiddle with something on a nearby table, SkekUng beginning to unwind and relax in the background behind you. You furrowed your brows slightly as you opened up your downloads on your phone, one of the few things that followed you from Earth to Thra. There really wasn’t much you could do with it anymore, Thra wasn’t exactly known for its cell service after all. But at the very least you still had access to your downloaded photos and music. You sighed slightly at the dangerously low battery percentage, realizing that this would likely be one of, if not the last time you would be able to use it.

‘It’ll be worth it,’ you thought to yourself, shaking your head slightly and opening up the specific song you had chosen for this very night, ‘It’ll be worth it in the end. It has to be.’

SkekUng paused at the soft music that began to play throughout the room, looking up at you as you cleared your throat and moved to stand in front of him, holding out your hand and cocking your head to one side. A nervous smile spread across your face at his obvious confusion, a quiet giggle escaping your lips and your eyes closing as you steeled your nerves.

“Would you do me the honor of a dance, my love?” you asked, trying your best to ignore the slight tremble in your voice.

The short pause between your question and his response felt to you like an entire eternity, the anxiety you had been trying to repress all day rearing its ugly head and clawing at your chest with gnarled and cold hands. The nervous stuttering of your heart almost deafened you as you awaited his answer with baited breath. You had no reason to be so nervous, SkekUng was your lover after all. But you supposed you couldn’t exactly be blamed, either. You were very much in love, and the gnawing fear of losing one of the best relationships you’ve ever been able to cultivate was certainly one you were never able to completely shake.

Your nervous thoughts quickly quieted as you felt SkekUng’s hand gently grasp your own, your glassy eyes flying open to meet his own gaze. You grinned, purposely ignoring the shaking of your hands and the quick jackrabbiting in your chest. He smiled down at you, and you felt your face go red at the expression. He never ceased to surprise you with just how charming he could be sometimes.

“I would be absolutely honored, dearest one.”

His other hand came to rest on the small of your back, gently guiding you further into the room and absentmindedly feeling the fabric of your outfit between his thumb and forefinger. It was one of your favorites, he realized, your go to ensemble for important and fancy events where one needed to dress up. It was one of his favorites, too. He loved the way the fabric fell and draped around you, creating an all around regal appearance that was still entirely you. He found himself questioning why exactly you were so dressed up for him on this particular evening, but your wide and excited grin quickly silenced any doubts he might have had.

Thra, he loved you.

The dance was slow and intimate, moreso him holding you close and swaying with you than an actual dance. Sure, SkekUng may have known some ballroom dances, but he was never quite comfortable going beyond slow spins and gentle swaying. You couldn’t help but nestle a little closer into his chest, your eyes closing in contentment and the nervous fluttering of your heart morphing into giddy butterflies. The soft music drifting throughout the room tinted the atmosphere a particular shade of orange that you absolutely adored, the warmth and joy of the moment overwhelming you in its embrace and setting your emotions alight with burning affection for the skeksis that was holding you as close as he could.

A part of you wanted this moment, this dance, to last forever. Just you and the dearest love you had found in the strangest of places holding each other close and sharing in such a romantic gesture.

But there was still something you needed to do.

You stopped in your swaying, pulling away from SkekUng’s gentle grip and taking both his hands in your own. He looked down at you, confused, cocking his head and furrowing his brows in concern. Your grip on his hands tightened slightly as he held yours back. You closed your eyes.

You sucked in a nervous breath through your nose, holding it in for a moment before releasing it in a shuddering sigh. You steeled your nerves and set your will, giving SkekUng’s hands one more squeeze before finally gathering the courage to do what you needed to do.

“Dearest one? Are you...”

He trailed off as you lowered yourself down on one knee, digging through your pocket for the small item you had stashed earlier. Bringing it out into the open revealed it to be a small... box?

SkekUng was more than a little confused at this point, absolutely wracking his brain for what in The Crystal’s name you could be doing. He moved to ask you for some sort of explanation before pausing when you beat him to it, him hanging on to every word you spoke.

“SkekUng, my love,” You rolled your next words carefully in your mouth, testing them to see if they were the ones you wanted. You spoke only when you were satisfied with how they felt, finally allowing them to tumble over your lips.

“Ung, I love you. I love you so, so, so much. I’m constantly grateful that out of every being on this strange planet, you are the one I fell in love with. You mean so very much to me and I....” you gulped, keeping your head down and your eyes closed, nervous to meet the skeksis’ gaze, “I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, however long that may be.”

You carefully opened the small box you grasped in your hands, finally gathering the guts to look your lover in the eyes as you popped the question you had been wanting to ask for days.

“Ung? Will you do me the honor of letting me spend my life with you? Will you... Will you marry me?”

The whole world seemed to still as the question left your mouth, the music fading out as your phone finally died along with the last chord of the song. SkekUng was well aware of what you were asking, of course. You had told him about human customs such as this. You had also told him just how much trust it took, just how much love must be present in a relationship for marriage to even be considered.

He sucked in a breath, not even realizing he was dropping to his knees before you.

You, his perfect dearest little darling, the love of his long and never ending life, wanted to marry him?

“SkekUng? Are you... are you crying?”

If he was it was the very last thing that mattered to him as he quickly bundled you up in his arms, a quiet and shuddering yes, Thra yes, being his only response. You laughed, a sharp and breathless thing, flinging your arms around him and grinning into the fabric of his robes as your own tears quickly began to spill over.

He said yes!

He wanted to marry you!!

He was going to be your spouse!!!

Your laughter and tears mixed as you pulled away and cradled his face in your hands, watery eyes meeting his as you peppered kisses all over the skeksis’ face and sputtered out your gratitude. The sheer joy you felt bubbled out from the deepest part of your chest and spilled over into shaky exclamations and warm kisses and caresses.

Neither of you were quite sure how long you held each other for, nor how many tears either of you shed that day. But what you both knew, deep within your chests and branded into the deepest, most intimate parts of your consciousnesses was this single promise:

You would be there for one another no matter what. Through sickness and in health, to have and to hold, long after this day and as far into the future as either of you could see.

The glittering of the silver lockets around both your necks was proof enough of this, the whispered words of praise and love solidifying your shared future in each other’s minds.

And as you studied your lover’s sleep softened face that night, as you listened to the soft purring emanating from his chest and stroked a gentle hand over the bumps and divots of his battle worn face... 

You realized that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[captainsupernoodle]

@wolfsrainrules @north-peach IT’S HERE!!

This is very long????????????

(also writing this really drove home another one of those moments where i'm just like “what the FLIP I have FAMILY as young as this hero WHAT ARE THE GROWNUPS DOING”)

Ichigo is immediately like “a person who Knows Things! Who's willing to Tell Me Those Things!” and sits down and lays out everything he's been mentally and not-so-mentally screaming about since he got STABBED with a SWORD and got up with MAGIC POWERS. Byakuya eventually meanders them to his estate and orders tea and half of soul society feels Judged even though they're not sure where it's coming from. Byakuya is massively unimpressed with Everything.

Whether this is right after the first invasion or later would change some things, but in any era what the fallout mostly boils down to is the Gotei freaking out because suddenly! The super-powerful kid they've had running around is asking questions! And doing things!! Legally!!!

Ichigo puts Byakuya on speed dial on his soul phone and calls him up every time he thinks of a problem or someone tries harassing him or Isshin says something that just. Doesn't add up.

And eventually he just starts calling Byakuya to yell about shinigami nonsense around town (his bedroom is no longer marked as a safe house, has the esteemed Gotei 13 fallen so low–), about theories and experiments he's doing to adapt kido to his reiatsu levels, about history and science and reishi architecture and whatever else catches his interests, and Byakuya pretty much always picks up, even if it's just to tell him that he's in a meeting and setting a time for them to talk, and when he visits soul society he has friends who are eager to see him but he always spends some time at Byakuya's.

(more under the cut!)

Byakuya is quick to invite him into the Kuchiki library, and they spend many afternoons and evenings just sitting quietly, Ichigo tearing through scrolls and records, Byakuya doing paperwork or reading, and sometimes Ichigo will ask a question or Byakuya will point out that this author over here expounds on that point in the book you're reading, and they'll have intellectual debates over hasty bites out of their dinner and the staff is Scandalized by the young lord taking books to the table but after the first three times they got up in the middle of eating bc byakuya was trying to enforce Decorum ichigo just brought his books with him and then byakuya had to get up to reference something and it was just too much trouble. The head servant whatever is just like fine! fine, at least they're not eating in the library, who knows what might happen with a Shiba in the works, at least the young lord still has a grip on his temper.

And it is funny to anyone who sees them together -- it took a little while because Ichigo isn't actually in SS all that often, he usually trains in the bunker and Kisuke is about all the mad scientist he can handle, but he comes to hang with Renji & other friends on some weekends -- but they actually do get along like a house on fire after byakuya flipped the "mentor" switch and let his guard down enough to keep getting sucked into heated debates. Ichigo's not a rebel, necessarily, in that he's not out there constantly looking for reasons to pick fights with anyone, he just doesn't let anyone pick fights with him or his friends and also goes "well that's stupid" with... pretty much any kind of unjust authority and law. It drives Byakuya a bit bonkers but he channels it into "educate the unfortunately misinformed future clan head" instead of immediate senbonzakura-ing. Trouble is that Ichigo is entirely ready for friendly debate throw-downs and yeah, maybe he doesn't have a law degree, but execution without a trial for trying to protect people, byakuya, really?

And this is where a little of the cultural confusion comes through, because Byakuya is intellectually aware that Ichigo is human but it doesn't really affect much beyond Ichigo being from somewhere else and being unfamiliar with soul society. And he's like, mostly adult-shaped, right? He's bigger than Toshiro, and most souls that look like Ichigo are already out doing things, even if they're still pretty closely connected with home, and he acts young sometimes but most of the time he's at Byakuya's level, just less experienced, which is to be expected given shinigami aging. So Byakuya answers any questions he has and applies pressure in ichigo's favor when needs be in the background, and otherwise lets Ichigo come to him and generally be independent.

And this works for Ichigo! He's been independent for years, wrongfully so, but he still has more life experience than most kids his age and is fiercely independent on top of that, so having someone to lean on is both novel and avoids being suffocating or condescending. A lot of the time he wants help – he already has more independence than he really wanted, and he's mostly adjusted to it, but it doesn't stop him from wanting some of that support that he's been lacking for so long, and that Byakuya is freely offering.

And eventually he figures out that he's started telling Byakuya things he hasn't told anyone else – questions about hollows eventually led to offhand mention of his hollowfication, and oh right, he'd actually kind of attacked Byakuya with his hollow mask, he'd probably want an explanation for that and even as chill as he's been so far the soul society anti-hollow rhetoric has gotta come into play somewhere with a noble –

Except Byakuya doesn't push. He never pushes. Even with that first offer, he was just laying out an option that Ichigo could take if he needed it, and he followed through when Ichigo took him up on it.

So he has a bit of a crisis and is a little more scowly than usual, but his sisters and friends know what it looks like when he's thinking really hard about something and leave him be, and he takes some long walks with Chad, just turning over what's been happening in his head and considering.

(Byakuya's been one of his people since he got his head screwed on straight, but Ichigo knows he has a tendency to latch on in ways that most people don't reciprocate, and it's okay. His friends have gone to war with him for someone they barely knew, they trust him, and he can lean on Chad most times, and it's good, it's good to have friends and precious people to protect.

But Byakuya isn't looking for his protection, or for someone to follow, or to spar with or experiment on or manipulate.

He's just – there.)

His thinking doesn't change much. He's already confided more in Byakuya than he has with anyone, because before hollows and Soul Society his friend group was all human teenagers doing teenager things, and Chad was sorely needed relief from a chaotic home life but he was still Ichigo's age, didn't have answers to a lot of the questions Ichigo's been shoving deep ever since his mom died. Byakuya doesn't press, doesn't judge, thinks deeply before speaking, but Ichigo always knows he's listening.

It's. It's good. It's really good.

And I guess I have a timeframe after all because Ichigo's really been there and back by the time of the Winter War. Byakuya sent his sister and his lieutenant to support Ichigo before he'd even been denied help to rescue Orihime, and came to Hueco Mundo himself, and listened again when Ichigo came to him, glaring and stiff, and slowly, quietly told him about dying and coming back less than human, fear in the faces of his friends and enemies, about seeing a soul – a person – crumble at his own hands.

Byakuya gets a hint, then, that Ichigo isn't quite the same as a soul. Souls might go entire lives only in soul society, from birth to death, but even souls who grow naturally rather than coming from the Living World are in some ways static, slightly less flexible in some fundamental way than those in the Living World. He does a little asking around, and Ichigo is so young even by human standards – Soul Society has been leaning on him like he's as old as his power levels suggest, in a place where passive reiatsu output is often more accurate than physical appearance, and all this time he's not even fully developed as a person, is still soft and learning how to exist in the world.

Byakuya has his own crisis right about then, and I'm playing fast and loose with timelines because I don't even remember most of the show, so in this au we're in a waiting period after clashing with the Espada just enough to get Orihime back – all the shinigami are alive, Grimmjow is licking his wounds-presumed-dead, tragic batman is dead, harribel and the tres bestias are not wearing battle bikinis cool, uuuuuuuum I think???? the vizard already happened before the grand desert slaycation??? Byakuya has a few belated heart attacks when he hears about training and the dangers thereof even though he's been privy to & helping with Ichigo's solo experiments with the hollow mask, and after Orihime is back and the shinigami do whatever sneaky sneak they've been planning or however it was they figured out about the time limit or whyever they wait for the Karakura pillars fiasco instead of, idunno, trying to prevent the megalomaniac from keeping hold of the magic rock….

ANYWAY there's a quiet period and Byakuya has his oh crap i'm a dad crisis and eventually is just like this is a literal child but he's proved himself time and time again that he's capable and wouldn't appreciate anyone butting in on his business uninvited, so instead he's sneaky about it. Most of his sneaking reveals that things are about like Ichigo's described, he has school and friends and training (urahara probably notices his snooping but he's certainly not the one filling in for Isshin's catastrophic failures in parenting, and maybe he sees the need or maybe he just isn't bothered enough to do something about being spied on, and he never interferes or tells kurosaki). Okay, this is fine, if everyone else is a complete and utter failure of a parent then he'll have to fill in whatever Ichigo hasn't covered himself. He gets an actually competent shinigami to cover Karakura, gets a copy of his school schedule and keeps people from harassing him near tests, is even more stringent with fronting central 46's stupidity and Very Firmly, At Risk of Murder cuts off all possible contact between Kurotsushi and Ichigo's people (and may start quietly grooming nemu to take over the 12th but nobody can prove it).

Things are bopping along, and then we have whatever permutation of the winter war that happens in this AU. Byakuya's been busy with the Grand Karakura Relocation or whatever the plan is and reinforcing his division, whipping them into shape after centuries of nothing but low-level hollows, and he knows that Ichigo's doing the same and he isn't concerned when they have less time to communicate.

Then Aizen.

I never actually watched the interim between the hundreds of episodes of vs arrancar fights and the butterfly beatdown but i'm assuming that everybody's tied up elsewhere or else they wouldn't have let a SINGLE 15YO fight aizen on his own, right? RIGHT???

Anyway in THIS fic that's the way it works, and while urahara and some of the other captains/ whoever's fighting fit, free, and not gonna die just from standing near the powerhouses lends a hand, so Byakuya is busy but not really worried bc Ichigo is a proven warrior and he has backup and for all his unexpected fondness, byakuya is still a military man and he Compartmentalizes.

Except then Ichigo's power rises and rises and rises again, and then all at once disappears.

Byakuya promptly flips his lid and Aizen goes into the box a bit more shredded than he did in the og timeline.

Everybody else gets the idea pretty quickly and flings Ichigo at Byakuya, who figures out what happened very fast and immediately decides Isshin has lost all rights to anything, ever. Ichigo is kept abreast of all developments in the efforts to get his powers back and NOBODY leaves him to his own devices for two years because Byakuya is persistently present and Isshin is on his shit list big time so he takes great joy in thwarting him at every turn.

I haven't watched or read the Ginjo arc at all but from what I gather they sneak in while Ichigo's isolated so there's a solid chance all that mess gets cut off at the knees.

Byakuya may or may not have an apartment and double life as a reclusive rich businessman in the Living World so that Ichigo has a place to stay when Isshin is Too Much, maybe the welcome eventually gets expanded to Chad and Orihime and the twins, but whatever goes on after Aizen, Byakuya is there and backing Ichigo up.

[goldeneyedgirl]

the fic that does not exist

What you are about to read was the first Twilight fic I posted. In all honesty, I deleted it two weeks after posting it and repurposed it for my degree into a 21,000 word novella that I’m still trying to turn into a decent YA book because, frankly, it has potential and I want to. 

But gosh, do I love the original version because I can see exactly where it was supposed to go and it remains one of the best things I’ve written. Because it turned into something that got me my degree. A precursor to how I approached Shadow to Light. To Alice always been a tiny bit bonkers in my fic.

It will never be reposted on AO3 or FF.net. What is posted below is probably 75% of the original. Some parts/lines were removed but nothing that affects the plot. There is a 50/50 chance I may delete this in the future.

But yeah, from circa 2015 (what the absolute fuck, I’ve been at this for five years?!), have “R”. 

--

It begins on a Wednesday. She runs out the front door, in bare feet and a nightdress that is too short, and she keeps running until she reaches Dr Cullen's house.

("It's Aro, Carlisle. We need to find the others, we can fix this.")

Dr Cullen brings her inside and Mrs Cullen gives her a glass of orange juice. They ask her a lot of questions, and she trusts them until the paramedics come to the door and she drops the glass, cutting foot badly and she hopes she bled all over Mrs Cullen's ugly rug.

(She doesn't scream or cry in the ambulance. She answers their questions politely, and apologises for getting blood on the gurney.)

She is put in a tiny cubicle to wait, a nurse cleaning and bandaging her cut foot. She asks for a glass of water the nurse never brings. And then, he's there. Too-long blonde hair, stooped stance, too thin and hollow looking, the circles under his eyes darker than his eyes.

("Jasper," she whispers. He doesn't hear her. He does when she calls out to him, and tries to leave the cubicle. She starts to scream for him when the nurses appear out of nowhere, and hold her down, slide the syringe into her and even as she's crying for him to save her, her world is turning white and quiet. And when she wakes up, she can't quite remember the name on her tongue, the face blurred in her memory.)

--

Her mother unlocks the door sometime after two, and carries in a tray. Milk, a sandwich and dozens of tiny round pills.

"It's time to eat," her mother says simply, placing the tray on her desk.

She watches her mother fuss around her room, making the bed, gathering the laundry. Doing her duty, and nothing more. There is never an explanation, never comfort.

Just obligation.

Her mother hates the way she stares, with her eyes too big and too knowing. She always thought a mother's love was infinite, eternal and complete. Now she has found the well tapped barren and dry, and she finds it difficult to grieve for that.

When she thinks of a mother, it is not this sour woman who pins her like a butterfly with shame and pity and resentment. No, the mother she images has laughing eyes and hair the colour of caramel. A woman who fixes, soothes, comforts and loves. Who smells of summer herbs and fresh linen, and a laugh like bells.

--

There's so little to do, now everything has been taken from her. Instead, she sinks into her tiny garden, gathering the pots around her until she can pretend, the scent of herbs thrown into the air, and she watches through the railings. She sees a lot. She sees Miss Hale stealing kisses from the McCarty boy, but turns him away in front of witnesses.

(It upsets and frustrates her, more than she can explain. She watches Miss Hale go out in expensive dresses with men too old for her, watches the dark cars pull up out the front of the prim and proper Hale residence. And every night, she waits. Waits for Miss Hale to get home safe, always waiting and listening for any cry for help.)

The McCarty boy sees her watching, and waves to her every time, with a cheerful grin and a wink. She waves back and blows a playful kiss when she knows Miss Hale is watching.

(She hasn't found her prince; she doesn't get much of a chance to look for him, locked away in her tower. But until she finds him, the McCarty boy could be her knight and rescue her, in a pinch.)

--

Her dreams are nonsensical, fragments of something larger that she doesn’t know how to decipher.

She dreams of running like the wind, of laughter and happiness. Of her hand clasped around another, but she cannot glimpse a face. Just a presence that anchors her.

She dreams of her hand slipping free and she stumbles, falling an impossible distance. Then there is mud and smoke and blood, and she is screaming hoarsely. She scrambles to her feet, and it is hard to run, the plants and mud tangling her feet. Under the smoke, she smells decay and mud. And she is trapped in her own grave, the darkness a weight upon her.

The smells from her dreams – of blood and smoke – hang heavily in the room when she jerks away from those haunting visions, enough that she thinks she can actually smell them. It’s just her imagination, she tells herself, but in the darkness of her bedroom, with the full moon hanging in the sky, it’s hard to believe it. That the stench isn’t there, blurring the lines of nightmares and memories.

--

She sneaks out during the summer fair, in a dress that is too long, and she didn't realise how much she has faded away, as she knots the straps tighter. The night is warm, and really, no one is going to notice her.

The fairy lights are woven through the trees, and music is playing softly. Laughter, chatter, fills the park, and it is magical. She wants to live in this moment forever.

He finds her sitting on the front steps of the library, peeling rind from the orange, her tongue catching the droplets of juice, her eyes closed in enjoyment. She is magnificent, with the ribbon in her hair, the oversized dress. She is gaunt, pale, like a tiny ghost and he is entranced and he doesn't know why.

(She welcomes him with a smile; he tastes like cigarettes and stewed coffee, she tastes like oranges and something bitter. Hands slide into pants, under skirts, and for her, it is salvation. For him, it is a drop of water in the middle of a desert. Gone all too soon and never again reclaimed.)

He buys her a blue paper flower that she tucks behind her ear, and she traces her fingers over his track marks so lovingly, he is surprised that they don't fade away.

--

Dr Cullen is kind to her, but her outburst so many months ago is still fresh in his mind, she can tell. He touches her gingerly, pity in his gaze at the black and blue shadows over her limbs.

(He sees finger prints colouring her hips, from her sweet, lovely prince the night of the summer festival. She wears them with honour, and she meets the good doctor's surprised glance with a cheeky smile.)

After the shot, the world is soft and her mother speaks to Dr Cullen, their words a dull hum. Nothing will change, nothing ever does. She will be returned to her tower, to sleep and pills and watching, for another twenty-seven days, until she is brought back to Dr Cullen.

--

She has one magnificent nightmare, where she is the princess at a ball, safe in the arms of the prince. But then there is nothing but blood, ghosts with scarlet eyes, her sweet tower a darkened dungeon, and bodies, oh the bodies. Of her beloved prince, her sweet knight, the ones that she watches over. Bodies split like overripe fruit, splayed open like butchered meat.

She screams until she wakes, her throat hoarse and raw and on fire, her mother waiting for her in the shadows, to send her back to the dungeons, the red-eyed monsters and the ocean of blood in weeping silence.

--

Sleep isn't coming, even with the pills on her tongue, with only water lining her stomach. She gives herself a paper cut and watches the bead of blood well up on her pale finger, and it is obscene and unexpected, and she watches it roll down her finger, over her knuckle with parted lips.

When she can dredge up enough energy, she writes a list. Of names, of people whose faces in her memory are hazy and indistinct. Of things that might have happened and things that did happen, but somewhere else. Of things she cannot allow herself to forget, even as the memories and details fall through her fingers.

--

Everything is blurring together, and she cannot put it right. She stitches memories together with justifications and logic, but their edges are still uneven, ill-fitting. Nothing is truly wrong – unless you count the crazy girl locked in a tower – but it isn’t right either.

Faces tumble through her memory, but she cannot remember the things she was supposed to never ever forget.

--

She leaps, leaps to freedom with a paper flower in her hair. It is better than flying. She leaps without regret, with sheer determination and the knowledge that there is nothing left for her in this place.

(The pills are bitter, the tower is quiet. Her hair floats loose around her face, not long, but no longer short. She didn't regret the loss of Mary-Alice in 1919, she doesn't mourn her now.)

The ground is hard, harder than she ever imagined. And she is just a doll of porcelain, already cracked at the seams. She shatters perfectly, the flower tumbling from her hair.

--

They bury her on a Friday, and it rains. A modest gathering of associated people in black, over an open grave, the only words that are offered are from a man that knows nothing more about Alice than a long illness that curdled her brain and sapped her body.

(Rosalie Hale came home at dawn with a torn dress and haunted eyes, but only screamed at the sight of the broken girl underneath the old oak tree. Emmett McCarty came running, and wept for the sweet dead girl who hid behind the railings and watched; for the necklace of bruises around Rosalie's pale throat. For a sense of utter wrongness he cannot put into words.)

A boy with dead eyes and thin arms waits at the back of the group, clutching a single orange and a bunch of flowers. He stares at the hole in the ground, saying nothing, but leaves his offerings on the fresh dirt with a reverence for something much greater than a sick girl. He is resigned to hopelessness that his salvation has gone, and all that lingers is the memory of enormous blue eyes and a sweet touch.

(Jasper Whitlock pushes aside the roses from the Cullens, the sunflowers from the Masens, the lilies from the Swans and nestles the orange in the dirt. His flowers were plucked from a garden, snow-white daisies and tiny blue flowers he cannot name - Forget-Me-Nots that will outlive anything else left behind.)

Her mother studies the grave sternly, smoothing down the hair of her younger daughter, and accepts the sympathies graciously. Her own pink carnations are already drooping over the headstone, as if they recognize her apathy to her child's fate.

(Emmett McCarty brings three bright yellow tulips in shaking hands. He tried, tried so hard to bring her back, even as his hands felt the sharp edges of bone under cold flesh. It was him that peeled the torn piece of paper from her hand, expecting a suicide note, her final words, but the curling handwriting offers not an explanation but two words 'Aro. Volturi.' And those are words that send a spike of fear through him and he doesn't know why. The note is still in his jeans' pocket and he doesn't know whom to tell.)

The rain turns the cemetery to mud and people begin to leave, petals dragged from stems with the ferocity. By winter, her grave will blend in with the rest, grass having grown over the dirt. Her family will leave her to her quiet sleep. It will be only a shattered girl, a broken prince and a confused knight that keep vigil at her grave.

(Esme Cullen buys pink roses and tries not to cry as she sits alone in her car. She truly doesn't know why, but there is something else there, just under the surface that she cannot quite decipher, that leaves her sobbing for the girl that saw no other way out than throwing herself from her tower, and all that Esme can do is offer pink roses and regret.)

--

She opens her eyes. And she screams.

(There is no more fear; just purest rage, sharpest anger. She will have her retribution and it will be sweet.)

[stinkyratshadowgod]

My Apex Theory about Rev and the Shadowfall Dimension

[Apex Legends Story Quest spoilers, beware]

So basically, i think Revenant, in this storyline, it’s going to win and then achieve godhood and then create another shadowfall-like dimension

Keep in mind that this is just my theory and honestly i think that i may go bonkers in some places, but idk i just felt like sharing this with the fandom (also sorry if i break my english, it’s not my first language)

Okay so basically i believe that Revenant it’s going to win the treasure hunt and then become a shadow god, and i’m gonna tell you why:

1-Voidwalker:

I wanna start by saying that i believe that the Shadowfall dimension (gonna call it dimension SF) is actually the storyline dimension (SD dimension) but in a future time, now you might be asking on how is that possible and my explanation

In the voidwalker trailer, we see a diferent dimension Wraith coming to help our Wraith, and we can belive that VoidWalker Wraith has mastered her void powers, while our Wraith have not, now you might see where i’m getting at: V-W Wraith came from another dimension AND TIME to help past wraith to escape.

Now you might say that this isn’t possible (and i would believe you cuz you would be more knowledgeable than me) but what i’m trying to say that the only way that our wraith could’ve have escaped was with the help of a more experienced Wraith, that with her maestry of the void powers, achieved the ability to travel throught space and time. 

One of my point being that VW Wraith couldn’t helped Wraith more than getting her out of the facility and giving her a portal timer(?) (for example, giving a piece of technology to control the void) is because VW Wraith doesn’t use a special tech to control the void because it’s not tech (even tho she uses a fancy futuristic suit) and even the dimension arm counter doesn’t control the ability, it just tells VW if she can use the portal, not precisely controling the ability, thus showing us that even the ability to time travel, VW Wraith still have to trully master her abilities (thus setting the unknow capabilities of the void powers)

You may be asking where i want to go with this information: I am trying to say that a diferent dimension where it takes hours-days-weeks-months-years in the future/past is possible, and that after some weeks in the Storyline dimension the Shadowfall dimension will become reality

2-Storyline dimension is not our cannon timeline (where i go the most bonkers)

You might be asking what i mean by that, and before i answer you, ask yourself? “If the Apex Games has this crazy tech of bringing dead boxes back to life and having multiple legends at once INCLUDING WATTSON (and Tom confirmes that it’s possible, but i can’t find the tweet, if someone find it, dm me) even tho in the lore shes in critical state, then where is the Apex Games and their crazy healing tech? Cuz i do believe losing a legend would be bad for business and would make a lot of her fans sad.

I know your response would be for gameplay reasons, but it’s really strange that the Apex Games doesn’t just heal her with their crazy tech, well my theory is that our Wattson is doing a-ok while Storyline Wattson is with boo boos. (Now this is just my headcanon of my theory, but Storyline Apex Games is not so technogically advanced like our Apex Games, and SL Apex Games does less matches than our Apex Games, with my point being that in the SL Apex the legends have whole days to do their casual stuff [evidence being the whole chapter 3]).

Another point for my theory is the presence of Prowlers (the creatures) on King Canyons. When you think about it, it doesn’t make a lot of sense for having these creatures in KC, sure in WE we have the trials, but in not a single moment there was an explanation on why there are Prowlers in KC (no event, no map change, etc). Heck, it doesn’t even make sense the presence of Prowlers on the Shadowfall KC. My explanation is that at some point when Rev took over King Canyons, some corporation (The IMC, Hammond Robotics, the Syndicate or another faceless faction) tried to re-take KC, and did some experiments about the supernatural changes made by Rev, and so they brought Prowlers as test rats, but they were quickly destroyied by Revenant and his army of monsters (Thats also my headcanon)

3-Why Revenant will and should win (Pls hear me out first)

You might be asking me why? ...Do you want my personal reason or the lore reason? Well i get to choose because i’m the one writting the theory (thats why it’s so bonkers)

The lore reason is because that would explain the Shadowfall event, think about it, every event had an explanation on why it’s happening (Christimas event - Mirage opens a new flying boat bar and due to his popularity hes set to organize the christimas event; System override - Hammond robotics starts to take controll of the Apex Games; Grande Soirée - Pathfinder throws a party; Old Ways and Voidwalker - Events related to a new piece of lore introduced, with Old Ways being Blood’s origin story and Voidwalker explaining Wraith’s past; Battle armor - Hammond [i assume] introduces a new type of armor to the Apex Games, the Evo shield; I don’t have a exact explanation for the “Iron crown” and “Legendary hunt” so let’s just say that it was the Apex Games idea to do these events). 

The personal reason is that i love Revenant with all my heart, and honestly i would enjoy seeing the antagonist winning at the end (without them turning good or getting killed seconds after their victory)

Also i believe that in the lore and outside of the game (and by that i mean PC/PS4/XBOX), Revenant is the strongest between all the legends, cuz not only he’s the strongest phisically (agile metal body and being build with the whole purpose of being a killing machine) but he also have supernatural powers (that doesn’t have a lore explanation, which makes me sad, so let’s assume that it’s a supernatural emp that works for both machine and flesh) and he can’t die, so hes basically unstoppable, and now that he knows about his godhood in the alternative dimension, how would the legends stop him

That was my TED talk, thanks for reading throught all my mad ramblings, if there is something you would like to ask/add, let me know

[fanfiction4thesoul]

What I See Part 3

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: ~1.9

Warnings: None

Summary: You’re headed back home to London after a few years in America. You’ve got a new job at EMI, thanks to your best friend Freddie and you’re ready to start the next chapter of your life. But navigating life is far more interesting when you see far more than anyone else.

A/N: You guys. I did homework the entirety of my spring break. And there’s still some stuff that I’m procrastinating on soooo I hope you’re not too upset that I took so long. This chapter is like, the final set up before Reader and Roger can really start to get to know each other so I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone still sticking with me as well as every single one of you that likes/comments/reblogs!!

Part 2

You stared up at the quaint library in front of you, admittedly a little nervous. Roger had tossed you his keys to the van this morning with a wink, reminding you not to explore anywhere else without him. You got directions from the owners of the studio and made the journey into town. The library was bigger than you expected for a small town like this one though you supposed that was a good thing. 

The inside was just as quaint as the outside and almost empty. The stern looking woman behind the information desk gave you a look as you entered but otherwise didn’t say anything. 

You took your time looking through the shelves trying to find what you needed. But it felt like looking through a needle in a haystack. You weren’t familiar with the Dewey Decimal system enough to know where your small, niche topic would be hiding. It took you 20 minutes to admit defeat and go to the front desk to ask the woman. 

If anything, her face got even more pinched when you told her what you were looking for, but she gave you the call number and pointed you in the right direction. When you got there, though, you practically knew it was going to be useless. Most of the titles you were looking at were things like Haunted Places, My Venture into the Afterlife, and 100 TRUE Ghost Hauntings. 

There was a rather large book though that might have something. It was titled Occult: A How To Guide. You pulled it off the shelf and went to settle in a chair in the back, away from the view of the front desk. There were no chapter titles so you started skimming through. The book definitely contained some interesting information like magic and practices (which you never really believed in but hey, you talk to dead people so who knows?) and of course supernatural creatures.

You were trying to be thorough in your skimming so it definitely took you longer than expected to reach the chapter about ghosts (chapter 15, page 392). Once you got there, you took the time to actually read the chapter, not wanting to miss any information. A lot of it explained what spirits were and all the theories about the afterlife or what plane of existence they seem to live on, as well as how they communicate with the living. 

Just as you were getting to the part about psychic mediums, someone spoke up behind you. “Whatcha readin’?”

You jumped in your chair, dropping the book to the floor with a dull thud. Whirling around, you were met with Richie, smirking up at you while he leaned against a bookcase.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you growled out at him. You shifted to look down the stacks to make sure no one was coming to check on the noise you just made. “Didn’t I just see you a week ago?”

“Well, yeah. But I got bored and everyone kept pestering me ‘bout you, so here I am.” He waved his arms out, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Alright, you found me. Now what do you want?”

“Well I wanted to know what you’re reading.”

You felt your face heat up a bit as you looked down at the occult book. “Uhh, just researching, you know.” Was it weird to tell a ghost you were reading about their… species? Being? Whatever they are?

You tried to pick the book up quick enough but Richie was already reading the cover. “Occult? (Y/N), you’re reading about magic?” He seemed confused, brushing his hair out of his face as he looked at you.

“Not… not really no. I’m--I have a bit of a problem,” you confessed.

“What do you mean?”

You explained to Richie the spirit that’s attached to Roger, from his outburst the first night to the continued negativity that he spreads around wherever he goes. “And, I don’t know. I was hoping there might have been a book here that would have, like, remedies? Kind of? To… ward him off or keep him away or just do something. So, yeah… occult.” You lifted the book awkwardly as if to prove your point.

Richie was silent during your explanation, brows pinched together as he focused on your words. “(Y/N), you're telling me that you’ve gone your whole life not knowing about--about anything? How have you been protecting yourself?” He seemed irritated as he started pacing in front of the stacks.

You just gaped at him. “Wha--what--how was I supposed to know about protection? I’ve never needed protection.”

Richie stopped his pacing to stare at you. “You’ve never met a negative spirit before? Never?”

“No!” You said, a little too loudly. You glanced down the stacks again before answering. “No. Every spirit I ever met was nice. Well maybe not nice-nice. Some of them did like friendly pranks or whatever, but no one was ever mean.”

Richie stared at you a moment longer before closing his eyes and shaking his head. “First off, that’s crazy. Secondly, you need sage.”

“Sage,” you repeated dumbly.

“Yes, sage. You burn it around the area you want to cleanse and tell the spirit to leave. That should do the trick.”

“Where… do I buy sage?”

Richie sighed, “Jeez (Y/N). At the apothecary. Or any herbal store.”

“Right…” You felt your face heat up again. “Is it… is it weird that I never met a negative spirit?” You felt so dumb at the moment on a topic that you thought you knew so much about. 

Richie must have sensed your hesitation because his face immediately softened. “It’s… odd. There’s a lot of them out there and with you so intune to spirits, it’s a little unusual that you’ve never seen one. Doesn’t make it bad. But someone should have told you how to protect yourself. Or you should have learned more yourself. Before you actually met one. You didn’t know though, so it’s okay.” He smirked at you, the twinkle back in his eye, “This is just a nice piece of dirt to gossip about back home.”

You groaned, “Oh, Richiiee. Don’t, please?”

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Now you better get going. Go buy some sage before the stores close.”

You glanced out the window, noticing for the first time the orange sky and when you glanced back, Richie was gone. 

~O~

The sage was surprisingly easy to find and, since it was at a herbal store, nobody looked at you twice for purchasing it. You got back to the farm shortly after the sun had set, the lights from inside the main house guiding your way. Everyone was gathered together in the sitting room, including Paul, Ratty, Crystal and, of course, your resident ghost.

“(Y/N)! There you are. We were starting to get worried,” Freddie said, pulling you into a hug. “Rog thought you drove the van into a ditch.”

“I did not!” 

Freddie winked before turning around with his hands on his hips, “Alright, but you did think she might’ve broken down.”

Roger’s face heated up slightly making you smile.

“I was worried, so sue me.”

“Are you hungry, (Y/N)? We just finished eating and saved you a plate.” John asked you quietly, moving the attention away from Roger and back to you.

“Food sounds great, yeah,”

The boys wanted to sit and chat which you participated in while you ate. You were still uncomfortable, but you were also really anxious to try out the sage. There was no way you could just pull out a bundle of sage though and waft it around without everyone thinking you were bonkers.

You left with the excuse of exhaustion, tossing Roger his keys back on your way out. As soon as you were outside, you beelined to the studio. Pulling out the sage and a match, you lit the tip and waited until it was smoking, burning away slowly.

Richie said to burn it around the area, so you walked around every inch you could, holding the burning sage out. He also said to tell the spirit to leave, but it wasn’t like he was here to listen anyway. So you took your time walking around, going over the couch, soundboard and into the studio. You even wafted it at the Red Special, just in case.

When you were finally satisfied, you used far more sage than you thought you would. Maybe you overdid it? The room didn’t feel any different, but you supposed you would find out tomorrow. You stuck the stick back into your pocket and turned to leave.

“(Y/N)?”

“Shit!” You jumped. Crystal was holding the door open, halfway through the entryway. “Shit, Crystal. You scared me.”

“Yeah, well you scared me. Thought someone broke in or something. I thought you said you were tired?”

“I am. But I wanted to make sure everything was set for tomorrow. I know the boys are anxious to do some actual recording.” You made up a lie on the spot, grateful the sage was out of sight.

But Crystal didn’t seem suspicious. He actually agreed with you.

“Ha, yeah. They’ve got so much going on in those heads of theirs that sometimes bringing it out and putting on paper can be a real challenge. God knows I want to bash their heads together sometimes.”

“It can’t be that bad,” you said, following Crystal out of the studio. You walked the short distance to your house going back and forth about the weird creative process the band does when writing.

“You’ll see,” he said, stopping before his bedroom. “Once they actually start recording, you’ll see. Then I can say ‘I told you so.’”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, alright. Night.”

“Night”

As you got ready for bed, you fished out the sage and put it in the bottom drawer of your dresser. You might do your house and the house the boys were staying in. That is, depending on how well it actually worked. You didn’t think Richie would lie to you, but you also didn’t want to get your hopes up if it didn’t.

Mostly, you just wanted to be able to laugh with Freddie again and get to know Roger more without your shoulders tense and your mood sour.

~O~

The next morning, you were in the studio first thing, doing some actual tinkering before the boys came in. You had a bunch of nervous energy while you waited though. 

The bang of the door opening made you jump and you watched as the boys filed in, already arguing lightly about a song. But after they all came in and the door swung shut, that was it.

No one came in behind Deaky, who was the last to enter.

No oppressive energy.

No ghost.

“What’s got you so smiley, love?” Roger was staring at you questioningly. The other boys were already in the booth area leaving you two behind.

“Nothing, I just… I just feel like I can finally breathe easy, ya know?”

“Hmm, yeah. Walking in here felt like a breath of fresh air. Just makes me more excited to start recording, yeah?” He gave you a wide smile, leaning in closer. “Ready to help us make a killer album, love?”

You matched his smile, starting to get excited “Yeah, let’s do this.”

Part 4

~

Taglist: @jennyggggrrr @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @rogahs-drowse @butlegendsneverdie @the-moving-finger-writes @leghy @juliarvra

[foreverlogical]

QAnon is getting its first congresswoman.

Marjorie Taylor Greene won a runoff in a Republican primary Tuesday, all but assuring her victory in November in a heavily GOP district.

She is thus set to become the highest officeholder in the land who explicitly believes in the lunatic theories of QAnon, the anonymous internet poster who says, among other ludicrous and poisonous things, that there’s a global network of pedophiles about to be exposed and undone by President Donald Trump.

Greene’s ascension is the latest indication of the creeping influence of Q, who has fashioned a kind of free-floating John Birch Society for the digital age. The author’s adherents or fellow travelers are adept at spreading memes on social media, hold signs or wear paraphernalia touting Q at Trump rallies, and now are notching some victories in GOP primaries.

Jo Rae Perkins, a no-hoper who won the Republican Senate primary in Oregon, has associated herself with Q, and expressed disappointment when her sellout campaign team tried to hide her enthusiasm for the conspiracy theory. Lauren Boebert, the upset winner of a primary for a Republican House seat in Colorado, said of Q in a radio interview, “If this is real, then it could be really great for our country.”

The rise of Q shouldn’t be exaggerated. Surely, most Republicans aren’t even aware of this dreck from the far reaches of the Internet, and the Q caucus in the House might number around one or two in the next Congress. Almost every political movement has an outlandish fringe that marinates in paranoia and is prepared to believe—or invent—the worst about the other side.

Yet, the spread of QAnon shows that the Trump-era GOP has weakened antibodies against kookery. Trump himself sets the tone. He’s an indiscriminate tweeter of disreputable Twitter accounts, and he’s floated all sort of ridiculous conspiracy theories himself over the years—just ask Ted Cruz’s father, or Joe Scarborough. Trump fulsomely praised Marjorie Taylor Greene upon her primary victory as a Republican rising star.

In 2017, Greene posted a long, hilariously earnest, and completely bonkers explication of Q posts to YouTube. She had read them closely and spent time trying to figure out their import. The time and energy you’d hope an eventual congressional candidate would devote to understanding the federal budget or, say, how to reform military procurement, she’d poured into Q, and was clearly invigorated and alarmed by it.

And why not? A conspiracy theory has its pleasures. No matter how convoluted, a good conspiracy theory offers a relatively simple explanation of the world—namely, that it is controlled by a cabal.

A conspiracy theory lets its believers in on a secret not available to everyone else. It thus has the thrill of exclusivity; it bestows upon the initiated a knowledge ignored or dismissed by fools and the easily deceived, who don’t know what’s really going on.

A conspiracy theory offers the drama of a morality tale. Can the people with the discernment to understand and the willingness to fight back defeat the traitors who have been caught red-handed trying to carry out a dastardly plot against all that is good and true?

Q has a special draw for a segment of Trump supporters. The author’s lurid inventions involve people who are already villains of the populist right, the likes of George Soros, John Podesta and the late John McCain. Q promotes a radical distrust of traditional sources of information and makes Trump’s stumbles into master chess moves, both of which are pleasing to Trump super-fans.

The novelist Walter Kirn wrote a piece on Q for Harper’s arguing that the author, whose posts have gotten more obscure, offering clues to what’s afoot rather than making grand pronouncements, is a master internet storyteller. “The audience for internet narratives doesn’t want to read, it wants to write,” he writes. “It doesn’t want answers provided, it wants to search for them. It doesn’t want to sit and be amused, it wants to be sent on a mission. It wants to do.”

Be that as it may, all of this is an explanation, not an excuse. Q is deeply corrosive of the qualities necessary to live in and govern a republic. It invites its adherents to suspend reason—how else to credit all the prophecies that haven’t come to pass?—and believe that a swath of the American establishment isn’t just wrongheaded or incompetent, but engaged in monstrous secret crimes.

Marjorie Taylor Greene has already been criticized by Republican congressional leaders for her incendiary rantings about Muslims. She deserves, too, to be shunned her for adherence to Q, even if the president of the United States is unbothered by it.

VISIT WEBSITE

[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach Chapter 26

It happened pretty fucking quickly.  The loss of Denise followed by Maggie’s pregnancy being in danger and then, Abraham and Glenn were dead.  At the hands of a shadowy figure that Rick and his group whispered about, but that I didn’t really acknowledge since I still had a few kids to teach.  Eric was still going on runs, Steven had taken over for Reg and was working with Eugene to keep the walls strong.  

Trey was growing like a little weed.  I’d started to keep track of his growth on the door frame of my bedroom.  A notch for every six months after his first birthday.  Two marks, and I almost didn’t believe that a little person could grow that much in six months.  I was with him, inside, when I heard the commotion outside.  A pounding on the gates, metal on metal it sounded like, and must have been since our house was further back than anyone else’s and the sound carried.  

I picked up Trey and walked to the bay window in the living room and knew, as I watched the hard looking people wandering through the streets, that the big bad wolf had come to visit.  Little did I know at that moment, that I knew that wolf intimately.  

I’d just stepped out onto my porch as I heard the whistle.  And then his voice.  A voice that I’d know anywhere.  A voice I’d heard moan, scream, growl, and demand.  My head jerked toward the sound, and there he was, like a walking dream or nightmare.  Wearing the jacket I’d given him, the swagger of his hips, and the scruff I’d told him repeatedly that I loved.  

“Mama?”  Trey’s tiny hand cupped my cheek forcing my eyes to land on his little pinched face.  “K?”

I nodded, kissing his forehead to sooth him, and me if I was being fucking honest.  “Yeah, Mama’s ok, baby.”  

“Holy fuck!”  I felt my stomach twist and I knew, without a fucking doubt, that Negan had seen me.  “AMARA?!”  

And there he was, standing at the foot of the steps of my porch, looking up at me like he was seeing a ghost.  I could fucking relate.  “Negan.”  I was happy to hear my voice sound steady and not even slightly breathless.  “Rick.”  I saw our leader looking like the beaten puppy he’d resembled since coming back without Glenn and Abraham.  

“Mama?”  Trey’s hand came back to my cheek.  I could feel his stress, and I kissed his forehead again, seeing Negan’s eyes widen. 

“Mama?”  His deep voice repeated, staring between Trey and I.  “How fucking long have we been apart?”  

I rolled my eyes.  “Trey, sweetie, can you go inside and find uncle Steven?”  I set him on his tiny feet and opened the front door.  “Tell him to come outside after he gets you a drink, we have a visitor.”  I knew that the entire message would be lost in translation, but I didn’t want my little boy to witness whatever was coming.  Turning back to find Negan still staring at me like I wasn’t only a ghost, but that I was a fucking ghost he didn’t really know was almost priceless.  “Mary made me promise to take care of him if anything happened- Not that I owe you an explanation.”  I crossed my arms over my chest.  “So Coach Negan is the big bad, times don’t change much, do they?”  

A woman rushed up to him and they had a quiet heated debate, and then there was a gunshot from the direction of our infirmary and I felt vindicated when he turned to rush toward the sound.  But then, asshole that Negan was, he turned back to me and said that one word that once help promise, but now sounded like a goddamn threat, “Soon.”

Carl had fired the shot, I learned later.  All the guns were being confiscated, which became a true problem when the inventory was short.  Poor Olivia, she’d taken over when Mary passed, was probably in a fit of fear and worry with Negan and his band of assholes.  They went house to house, including ours.  Steven had come out just as Negan turned the corner to find out the source of the gunshot, and once I told him he was cursing Eric going on a run.  

Negan returned, after the mattresses were removed from ALL the beds (except cribs, thank God), and then the bed frames were taken too.  Guns, beds, mattresses wasn’t he just amazing?  He came bounding up the steps and demanded that I come with him, to his headquarters, and I could bring Trey with me.  

“No.” Short and sweet, and I saw his eyes flash at my unwillingness.  “This is our home, we’re not going anywhere.”  

“Fine,” and I felt vindicated and like I’d won a victory.  “Kill that one-” he pointed at a random neighbor and I saw the same woman who’d tattled about whatever earlier raise her gun.

“WAIT!”  I looked down at the man I’d once thought I’d live the rest of my life with, and saw a complete stranger standing in his spot.  “I’ll come, but Trey stays.”  I swallowed past a lump that was forming in my throat.  Trey was inside with his toys during this, and I walked inside and told him I had to go for a very short trip, but that his uncles would be with him the entire time.  Steven was looking very green, having witnessed our showdown through the same bay window I’d stood in front of earlier that day.  “Don’t worry,” I told him, giving him a hug of his own.  “I’ll be back, I swear.”  He didn’t look convinced, but he knew that Trey could pick up on our stress so he forced it down.  “Now,” I held out my hands and Trey launched himself into my arms.  “Kiss Mama goodbye, and I’ll make uncle Stevie promise two bedtime stories.”  Trey gave me a wet sloppy kiss on my cheek and I smacked my lips against his cheek loudly getting a giggle.  “I love you, baby.”  

“Love ya,” and then he was wiggling to be let back down.  I set him down, gave him a long lingering look because I wanted nothing more than to stay with him and read books all night long, but instead, I would go with Negan if only to save another life.

The ride to wherever he was taking me was quiet and strained.  He knew me well enough to know that he couldn’t force me to speak if I didn’t want to.  Negan did try, however, to get me to say anything.  I think he was shocked by how angry I seemed.  How irritated his very presence was, and of course he thought he knew the answer.

“Who is he?”  I waited, wondering what the fuck he meant.  “Amara, who is he?”

I finally turned to face him, happy to see he was paying attention to the road.  I studied his profile, seeing the very subtle differences that eighteen months could create on someone’s face.  I wondered if I looked different to him?  

“Answer me, princess.”  I snorted and he shot me a look.  A glare actually.  

“First of all, I’m not a princess.”  I turned back to stare out my window.  “Second of all, you don’t fucking have any fucking right to order me to do anything.”  I heard his sharp intake of breath at this.  “And lastly, I’d answer your idiotic question if I knew what the fuck you were asking.  Who’s who?”

I could hear the leather of his gloves tighten on the steering wheel.  “Whoever you ended up with.”  What?  I was forced to turn to face his profile again.  Was he insane?  

“The fuck are you talking about?”  I sounded as uneducated as his question would assume he was.  “Who the fuck has time for romance now?!”

“Romance?”  It was his turn to snort.  “No one said ‘romance’, sweetheart.”  

“I’m not your sweetheart either, Negan.”  I growled, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from the sharp lines of his face, the curve of his lips, the scruff I’d always wanted him to sport, but he hadn’t because he thought it looked too dangerous for a coach.  

Another clutch of his gloves against the wheel.  “Not mine, then whose?”  

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”  I refused to face him again, clearly he’d gone completely bonkers from the strain of the world collapsing.  “I’m not with anyone, unless you count Eric and Steven, then I guess I’m the unicorn in a gay marriage, but I’m the unicorn that doesn’t get fucking touched, you asshole.”  

“Are you trying to tell me that in a year and a half, you haven’t once had anyone-”

“Stop right fucking there, Negan.”  Still staring at the nonexistent view outside the steadily moving truck I felt like I wanted to reach over and slap the shit out of him.  “Again, none of your fucking business, but NO, there’s been NO ONE since the world went to shit.”

“I-”  He started, but I went on.

“Is this your way of easing me into the conversation about your mistress?  Did you rescue her and are you taking me to show me that you found your ‘one’?”  I snarked at him, thinking that sounds about right.  He just stole the beds of an entire community to show what a big cock he had, so why not show your ex that you leveled up during the apocalypse?  

“Mistress?”  He sounded uncertain, but I didn’t check to confirm.  “Sweet- Amara, what the fuck are you talking about?”  

“The redhead?”  I offered, rolling my shoulders to release the rapidly building tension in my neck.  “You know, the naked one in the selfie you two took in her bed?”  I waited, but nothing came from his side of the truck.  “Too vague?  Maybe you had a LOT of redheads that took naked selfies with you in their bed, wouldn’t surprise me.”  

“Amara,” it came out as a whisper, and it sounded pained, but I didn’t care.  “Why didn’t you say-”

“When?”  I finally turned and saw that his eyes looked pinched with whatever emotion he was feeling currently.  “When was I supposed to say it?  When you rushed off to supposedly your ex wife’s deathbed?  When you were rushing to a job that you didn’t need to take?  When you barely spoke to me when you picked up a bag I PACKED FOR YOU to leave me with?”   I watched him swallow hard.  “I was so fucking stupid wasn’t I?”

“You don’t understand.”  Negan’s voice sounded like he was fighting a cold, it was hard to hear.  

I snorted again.  “Damn right I don’t.”  I turned back to the window.  “Take me back, Negan.  Back to my son, back to my family.  This is pointless.”

He didn’t, because of course he didn’t.  Instead, the ride was silent again.  I didn’t pay attention to the route, I knew that I’d be back in Alexandria soon, but I would be driven back by one of his people.  I wouldn’t have to come alone.  And I wouldn’t have to stay in his presence for much longer.  I’d let him have whatever say he thought he needed, and hopefully, I’d be home by morning.

The Sanctuary.  What could be said about the Sanctuary?  It was a former factory, clearly.  It was ‘secured’ by foaming at the mouth dead, which was an interesting touch.  And the people that lived there appeared to be a cult.

What else would you call a bunch of assholes that knelt in the dirt as Negan of all people walked by?  Or God help me, who answered “I am Negan” or “Negan” when the asshole next to me asked them who they were.  Seriously, what was in the fucking water here?  Note to self: Don’t fucking drink ANYTHING in these walls.  

The harem.  That was what I had a feeling was coming.  That’s a lie.  I’d assumed that I’d fucking meet my replacement, absolutely, but I had no idea that my replacement was a multitude.  

I shook my head as they clamored for his attention, realizing that Daryl was standing next to me with a start.  I’d forgotten that he’d been taken, and he looked terrible.  Dirty, but that was normal for Daryl, and those sweats?  Ew.  He was looking down and I wondered if it was because of me.

“Daryl?”  I kept my voice down, I had learned that trick from Negan after all.  I saw Daryl’s fist flinch so I knew he heard.  “Are you alright?”  Another flinch, this time in his shoulder.  Shit, had this moron hurt him?  “Damn him.”  

“Amara,” I glanced up and saw that Negan was watching me.  I raised an eyebrow and waited.  “Come with me, please?”  Ah, not an order, how lovely.  “D, take our guest back to his rooms.”  He shot a look toward Daryl and I felt my stomach twist.  

Wondering if I should just put my foot down and demand my return to Alexandria, I looked around the room his little women were loitering in and I felt my lips go tight.  MY FURNITURE.  This was the furniture from our house, the family room to be exact.  That fucking ass-

“Amara?”  My eyes flashed to his and I saw him gulp again.  “Let’s go somewhere more private.”  Good idea, wouldn’t want your fucking cocubines to see me rip you asshole to sternum, would you?  

I stalked toward the door he was holding open for me and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was radiating rage.  And if he assumed the room he brought me to would lessen it, he was a fucking moron.  Our living room furniture in one corner and MY FUCKING BED right there.  

“You motherfucking-”  I felt his hand on my elbow and jerked free, ignoring the tingle his skin created against mine.  Turning to face him I almost got the rest unleashed, but Negan never fights fair, ever.  He tugged me to him and then his lips met mine and I felt it still.  The same rush, the same need, and God fucking help me the same love.  

He nipped at my lower lip and I sighed, letting his tongue in for a dance with mine.  And my hands found the back of his head, and my body was flush against his and I didn’t care for a moment about the text or the other women just outside.  All I cared about was the way he felt against me.  The taste of his mouth.  The scent of him.  And the fact that I missed him.  That I felt more relief that I wanted to admit to that he was alive.  And that I wanted him.  Just as much as I had the very first time we kissed.  

“God, I missed you,” he breathed when we came up for air, his breath fanning my wet lips.  “I was so fuckin’ scared that you were GONE.”  And then he dipped back in for more and I forgot why I didn’t want this, him.  Why I needed to go home, why this was a bad idea.  “I love you, Amara.”

That was the trigger, it seemed, hearing him say he loved me let me pull away.  I gave a harsh laugh.  “You love me?”  I shook my head and walked toward one of the windows that was dressed in the curtains we’d chosen for our living room.  “Love?  You LOVE me?”  I wondered when the words would make sense again.  “There are how many women outside sitting on MY fucking furniture, waiting to TOUCH you, Negan?”  

I heard him sigh.  Exasperated, that’s rich.  “I know how it must look-”

If I kept snorting, Eric was going to end up calling me Miss Piggy, I fucking knew it.  “It looks like you replaced me pretty fucking easily, Negan.”  I turned and took note of a baseball bat wrapped in barbwire.  “Interesting weapon.”  I saw him flinch.  “Wait, why did you look like that when I-”

Another gulp from him and his eyes tightened.  “Lucille?”  

“What about her?”  I was confused, and then he raised the bat.  “You named it after your ex wife.”  I shook my head and laughed, Jesus, this was getting better and better.  “So you have a harem,” I pointed in their general direction.  “And a bat named after your ex wife.”  Head nod toward the wooden plank.  “Where the fuck does the missing me coming in?”  

I watched him look around the room.  The furniture and decor.  Really? 

“You went back to our house and gutted it so your new digs would look classy?”  Yeah, I was done.  “Who’s going to drive me back to Alexandria?”  He stared at me like I’d lost MY mind.  “Seriously, I’m out.  This is ridiculous.  The feigned jealousy of an imaginary lover of mine.  The bat named after your ex.  The fucking harem sitting their weird Stepford wife looking asses on MY former furniture.  And MY FUCKING BED looking like a porn set when I don’t own a mattress anymore.  Yep, I’m done.”  I turned toward the door.

“It’s all here.”  His voice was still quiet, but it stopped me.  “Everything from our house.  Including all your-”

“Tell me you don’t have a fucking clothing shrine sitting here, Negan.  Or-”  I groaned.  “Do your girls get to play dress up as me?  Because that’s fucking disturbing.” 

“No,” his voice was low, but not the same seductive tone I remembered, this was far different.  “They touch nothing in this room, especially not your things.”  I shook my head, he sounded almost insulted that I’d suggested it.  “I’d kill everyone in this building if they touched your-”

“You’d murder people over my underwear?”  I shook my head, but didn’t face him.  “Let me go, Negan.  You made your life, and I have one of my own.  Hell, you even have variety.”  

“I only want you.”  Another whisper, and it cut me to the bone.  “Just you, Amara-”

“Then set me free, Negan,” my hand was on the doorknob.  “Or lock me up with Daryl, because that’s the only way I’m staying here.” 

[thanksjro]

Eugenesis Part Three, Scene Seven: Nightbeat’s Battle With Cancer

While the Quintesson camp gets ready to break the Geneva Convention over its knee like a cheap plastic ruler, our Quintessential Flying Fucks are watching the POWs pour into the building.

Ryknia- not a part of the comic canon, unless there’s something I missed looking him up- is twitchy about getting all these Cybertronians hooked up with Inhibitor Chips as soon as physically possible.

We get an explanation for the shotgun-style red paint job, and it’s even worse than my initial hypothesis.

The Quintessons are planning to reduce the identities of each individual robot to essentially nothing, so they won’t be able to fight back.

Someone teleports into the room, loaded up with the Chips. Oh happy day! Jolup decides to test them out, by way of stabbing the delivery boy in the neck with one. Yeah, they’re using Transformers to run their errands. Ryknia establishes himself as the serious one, yelling at Jolup for playing around when they still have an entire camp full of robots to beat into submission. Jolup responds… well.

Just kidding, he threatens Ryknia with death if he so much as looks at him funny again. Jolup is the wildcard.

Meanwhile, over in the collapsed tunnel, the Quintesson troops pull Sunstreaker, Hoist, and Grapple out of the rubble. No life-signs from Nightbeat or Optimus, so it’s to be assumed that they’re both dead.

You’d think it’d be common knowledge by now that Optimus Prime is completely incapable of staying dead for more than ten minutes. Nightbeat’s plot armor shoulder also still be protecting him, at least until we figure out what exactly shoved that stick up his ass.

Literally the next paragraph is catching up with Optimus and Nightbeat.

The mental image this creates is simply delightful. Don’t get too cozy now, Optimus, you still need to figure out how you’re going to escape this predicament.

The two of them are stuffed into a very small pocket in the debris, in the catacombs that line the underside of the city, having been used during the pre-war fighting to move non-combatants and the like to neutral territories.

The two have a little time, since they’re effectively trapped down here, so Optimus takes the opportunity to reflect on just how bonkers the last couple of hours have been for him.

Then he asks where his current self is. Nightbeat doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s dead. Luckily, he doesn’t have to, because Optimus immediately retracts the question.

Geez, Nightbeat, tell us how you really feel about the guy.

Optimus instead asks about just what the hell is going on that they would need him in the first place. As Nightbeat explains the situation, he starts getting cryptic again.

Nightbeat, all this dancing around the subject better be frickin’ worth it. It’s almost maddening how little I know about your character at this point.

After flubbing through his explanation, Nightbeat says ‘fuck it’ and just outright shows the mind-wiper to Optimus, who takes it surprisingly well.

Then the question regarding the ethics of this mission comes up. Good thing Perceptor and Prowl aren’t here, they’d hate this. Optimus is confused as to why Nightbeat would take this mission on if he didn’t agree with it.

The answer is that glowing orb thing from Part One. Looks like we’re getting some answers.

Fucking finally.

Okay, so Nightbeat was a Headmaster, right? His head came off and turned into a smaller dude, it was a huge gimmick for years within the Transformers franchise. He had a few of these, one of them being his very best buddy Muzzle. I mentioned Muzzle in Part One, Scene Four.

So, Muzzle got colon cancer.

Towards the end, they shipped both Nightbeat and Muzzle off to Antartica, and then he died, exposing this nigh-immortal robot to mortality.

Nightbeat, what the 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔.

Fortunately, his chest orb doesn’t contain the rotting corpse of a cancer-riddled man, just his helmet. It’s all he’s got left of Muzzle, and he misses his friend terribly.

Now that Nightbeat’s shared his emotional trauma, Optimus decides that he’s going to return the favor, telling him about why exactly he joined the Autobots. Nightbeat believes what everyone else does- it was ★𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕪™★.

Yeah, no, it wasn’t, actually. Optimus just didn’t want to make things awkward when folks started heralding him as the robo-messiah.

So back in the day, Optimus Prime- back then he was Orion Pax, naturally- fought in the State Games as a gladiator. Megatron was also a gladiator, as he often is in Transformers. They faced off against each other, and Orion lost… because Megatron cheated, using an illegal fighting style. A few weeks later, the war kicked off, with Megatron giving the “Peace Through Tyranny” speech. During said speech, Orion rushed the stage, in what looked to be protest.

He just wanted another chance to kick Megatron’s butt, actually. Optimus Prime is who he is because he wanted to punch a guy in the face. Outstanding.

Meanwhile, back with Prowl and the Autobots, Quark’s discovery of an alternate route to the AMC rears its ugly head- the Quintessons are already there. Prowl assembles a small team and they go in. Tacker, Rad, Rev-Tone, Quark, Spindle and Chromedome all follow Prowl. Kup does not.

They catch up with the old-timer in front of Rodimus’ room, where they discover that absolutely nothing’s happened to him. Rodimus is perfectly fine- in a Quintesson-related fashion at least. He’s still completely jacked up and hanging on by a thread.

The other Autobots in the hospital aren’t so lucky.

Part Three’s friggin’ dark as shit, y’all.

They see Red Alert, miraculously still retaining his head, shoved off into a corner. Prowl isn’t taking any of this terribly well, entering a fugue state, while Chromedome gets to work resuscitating the head of security. Chromedome for Prime 2012.

After some explosive defibrillator action- Chromedome is literally thrown across the room by burst of electricity that’s created- Red Alert comes to, and so does Prowl.

Prowl decides to check on the rest of the wards while Kup and Chromedome get Red Alert talking again. He promptly runs into Perceptor, who I guess just decided to waltz into this war zone of a hospital on his own. He gets to IDW Shockwave-levels of ice-cold logicalness, noting the strategy the Quintessons are taking here, which kind of proves that dumping all your points into Intelligence is worthless without a little Wisdom so you know when to shut up.

Rad’s found something- Perceptor brought him along. They go into the operating theatre and find a scene that belongs on the cover of a Cannibal Corpse album.

I think First Aid might be dead, folks. Just a guess, though.

Up above, the Quintesson forces are rounding up the last of the Autobot war prisoners. Quantax calls, demanding that the Matrix be brought to him, seeing as the last team that went down to the AMC didn’t seem to be able to grab it. Maybe because they were too busy stringing up the medic like a holiday lanyard.

Back down below, most of the surviving Autobots are clustered together in the waiting room. Of course, Rev-Tone’s decided to be ornery, and has dragged Quark away from the throng so he can have company while he tries to break into some mysterious locked room.  

Next thing you know, he’ll be stabbing himself in the brain and removing his memories of his husbands just to not have to deal with the torment of it all.

Rev-Tone manages to get the door open, and finds someone inside. A survivor! Who could it be?

GODDAMMIT THROWBACK

Throwback, of course, asks just what the hell’s happened. Rev-Tone answers with his usual tact, stating that everyone’s dead.

Pipes just isn’t allowed to stay alive in a Roberts’ story. That’s just the rules.

The dream team unhook Throwback from his mess of cables and carry him back to the foyer, where Mommy and Daddy are fighting. Kup’s furious with Prowl, who believes- correctly, but we won’t tell him that- that the Quintessons will be back for Rodimus, and that they need to stay put and get ready to defend the Prime. It’s a right screaming match, and everyone has to watch it and be uncomfortable.

This really has been just the worst day.