#and then it crashed halfway which is. predictable

[unopenablebox]

I've Seen the Triangle

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. (Bingo) Can you write Dark Clark Kent and plus size female kryptoian reader ?

.⋆｡The Last of His Kind｡⋆.

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

Clark is no stranger to loneliness, but a mysterious ship in the middle of the desert could be just the answer he’s been searching for

Warnings: kryptonian!reader, DARK FIC but more soft than my usual stuff, naive reader, kidnapping?, possessive!clark, no use of Y/N, future isolation and controlling behaviour WC: 1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Clark had always been alone in the universe, an unfortunate consequence of his own people’s arrogance and willing ignorance of the happenings of the world around them. He didn’t mind so much as he had never experienced anything different but after Zod and the briefest of hints that he wasn’t the last, Clark felt a deep stirring in his chest.

He often caught himself staring off into the void between stars, wondering if there were others out there. But his duty was to Earth, he couldn’t just leave because of some slim hope that other Kryptonians lived on a far away planet. And even if there were, they could be like Zod- power hungry and cruel. 

But on a cool day in late October, Clark got his chance to find out.

The office was almost empty, everyone having gone home early to beat the autumn storm that was predicted for later that evening, leaving Clark virtually alone in his block of cubicles. His article was almost done but he found himself picking it apart over and over again, like something deep in the recesses of his mind was telling him to delay returning home for as long as he could. Then, he heard it.

A heavy thud of something crashing into the earth, it had to be bigger than a meteor but far smaller than an airplane or weather balloon. Clark’s head tilted as he focused all of his senses to somewhere in the Sahara. The groan and pop of heated metal slowly cooling, the hiss of air escaping a pressurised chamber. He could smell gunpowder and dust that clung to the shell of whatever it was. But he could also hear the steady beat of something within the metal.

With a cautionary glance around the office, which was now absent of anyone save for him, Clark stood. He was careful enough to shut down his computer and gather his things but as soon as his bag was zipped and he was safely in the stairwell, he darted down the stairs, just barely keeping himself restrained enough not to go too fast and give himself away.

He could hear the beating slowly getting faster. He ran out of the building as the hissing ceased and the familiar turning of gears started, just like it had in the ship he discovered in the arctic. Clark stumbled over his work shoes, the buttons of his shirt practically flying off in his struggle to get out of them. If this was another Zod, he wouldn’t have much time to react before they started acclimating to Earth’s healthy sun. 

His glasses were barely off his nose when he finally heard it, a soft groan- delicate, gentle (as much as a groan could be) and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. She let out another soft sound and Clark finally took off. 

This could be it, the answer he needed so badly. Perhaps it was an elder who could really teach him about his home world, a child who had been lost just like him. But some deep part of his soul, a piece he had locked away a long time ago, wondered if it was someone his age, someone who would be his equal, his partner.

The sands of the Sahara quickly revealed a huge slash through the dunes, darkened by the heat of the ship’s dramatic entry. The ship itself was halfway buried in the sand, its black hull a stark contrast against the bright sand. Clark landed in front of its rounded end. 

Steam curled around the dark metal but he barely had time to appraise the vessel before a mechanical clanging began and the sand around its side started to shift. Clark darted forwards as a panel lifted and the earth around it immediately began to spill inside. He grabbed at the open frame and tugged the ship free just as its occupant became visible.

She was beautiful.

Large curves highlighted by tight spandex-like material, the exact same as his suit. The symbol spread over her generous chest consisted of two overlapping circles, one that he didn’t recognise even after his father’s lessons. Clark felt like he couldn’t even breathe as he looked down at her body, everything about her was captivating, hypnotising, everything he had ever wanted. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, allowing him to observe every blemish and mark of her skin in extraordinary detail. She was a goddess in its truest sense, an ethereal being in mortal form.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was met with the most brilliant shade of e/c he had ever seen. Panic briefly flashed across her face before she saw his own house symbol and immediately relaxed, her expression more calm than he thought it should be in this situation.

“I’m Kal-El.” Her eyes sparkled in the strong rays of the sun as a small smile crept onto her face.

“Kal.” She repeated his name back to him in a voice far more pleasant than he had ever heard before. Her lips parted again but suddenly her body rocked forwards, as painful coughs rattled through her lungs. Clark swept her into his arms without thinking and pressed her to his chest. She limply clutched at his back as she continued to cough.

He flinched with each of her laboured inhales, his own chest burning with a rage he couldn’t explain. But what he did know was that no one else could know of her. Only god knew what would happen if any government found out about another Kryptonian, especially a female one. Lois and his mother would try to corrupt her mind, encouraging her to leave him.

He wouldn’t let that happen. He would never let himself be alone again.

He could protect her, mould her. She would be safe. No one would know of her existence, not until she knew who exactly she belonged to, the only person that she would ever be able to trust.

Clark smirked as he cupped her head gently, his thumb tracing the apple of her perfect cheek. Oh yes, she was absolutely perfect.

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[synthy-sizer]

“Look, I'm on your side here, Sofia. And I believe you when you say you need to go back to the hatch. But are you sure you want to leave your parents?” You nod through your tears. “Yeah. It hurts, but I know what I need to do.” She smiles, albeit sadly. “If you're sure.” You walk for a while, cutting through the woods and stepping over shrubs and fallen branches before she talks again. “So, what exactly are we going to do once we get there?” You shrug. “I don't know. I just got this feeling. Like someone poking me and pointing at it.” She nods. “I understand.” In contrast to the action you face against drones, the long walk feels almost too quiet, like you need to fill the awkward air. “I hope Violence and Lust are ok.” “They'll be fine,” Jordan affirms. “How do you know?” “Because I saw it.” Come to think of it, Violence said Jordan accurately predicted the future. “How exactly do you see the future?” She considers for a while, trying to phrase it properly. “It's like knowing the broad strokes of a journey, but not every fine detail. I know I'm road tripping from sector 3N to 2F, but maybe I don't know what road we'll take, or where our rest stops are.” You think you understand. “So you know they'll be ok, but not how?” She nods. “Exactly. God gave me a lot of information, but he doesn't know all the fine details. We have to choose the way we take the path ourselves.” “Does God want Violence to get revenge? Is that why you're part of it?” She laughs. “Violence means well. And he sees the path more clearly than he wants to. But I can't convince him. He needs to lay the path out himself, understand it, and accept it. That's why I'm part of it.”

Suddenly, she stops you. “Wait,” she whispers. You hear rustling after a moment. Both of you duck behind nearby bushes and wait silently. A drone emerges from the greenery. It stands silently and scans the area, turning its head left and right. The swivel is perfectly mechanical. After a moment, it walks away, thudding into the woods and crunching branches as it goes. You wait a bit longer before you finally dare to breathe. “Those things are everywhere…we need to hurry.” You rush your way out of the woods and into a clearing. “The hatch should be this way. We just need to get back into the woods from across the path and we'll be there.” You dash across the field, minimizing your time without cover. It's only as you're halfway across the field, and after you hear the thunderous gunshot, that you consider;

How exactly was that drone so silent?

Jordan barely blocks the heavy round. Her invisible barrier forms iridescent splinters of light. The drone lurches into motion with inhuman speed, slamming into Jordan. She braces and it comes crashing into an invisible barrier, inches in front of her face. It rears back, and once again with speed you can barely comprehend, its entire arm cracks with a mix of wet squelches, the crunch of bone, and the snapping of wires and metal, and rockets burst out. It throws its fist at full force, rockets blaring, fist spouting jagged metal spikes. It sounds like a fighter jet as it crashes into, and then pierces the wall. There's a shrill metallic screech, like a punctured speaker and a blitz of bright, fracturing light for an instant as the barrier explodes. Jordan barely dodges, launching herself with another wall extending from her foot, throwing and somersaulting herself across the grass.

The drone smashes into the ground, pounding into the dirt with a deafening boom. Earth rips from the ground and grass scorches. Jordan barely catches herself and goes on the offensive, using the same invisible force to launch herself into the air, and then back down. Her foot almost touches the visor growing from its face, but then another invisible wall thrusts from her heel, sending her careening back into the air. The wall slams into the drone like a crusher, smashing through the visor, which explodes into shrapnel. The drone's head pounds into the dirt, splattering into a mess of red gore. A stray bit of blood splats into your cheek. You can't tell if shrapnel would have been better or worse.

With a mix of awe and horror, you watch as Jordan flips through the air, lands, and starts slashing at the body. Invisible blades swipe through the air, slashing and smashing through the heavy metal armor, weapons, and flesh alike. Only when the entire body has been ripped to shreds does she finally stop, panting and sweating. She's hunched over in exhaustion. “It won't stay dead….we need to move….” She gets out between breaths. You wordlessly follow, too shell-shocked from the experience to respond. You've never seen any of them push themselves this hard. Not Jordan, Lust, or even Violence. The fact that she had to do that to even stun a drone is perhaps the only thing that scares you more than what it looked like once she was done.

Even as the two of you try your best to rush across the field and find a hiding spot, you hear the rhythmic thuds of drone footsteps, perfectly in sync. “Keep moving.” You quietly rush a bit faster, doing your best to hide your terror. You also make a concerted effort to avoid looking at Jordan's face, because you know exactly what she knows; that being caught is inevitable.

Suddenly, Jordan is yanked away from you. You whip around and see a drone swinging her from her shoulder directly into the ground with an inhuman strength, powered by an arm that resembles a factory machine more than flesh and bone. Jordan barely creates a barrier before hitting the ground. It shatters with a harsh electrical screech, but slows her descent just enough to survive. Despite that, the drone still stands above her, pointing an amalgamation of gun barrels that could blow a tank to shreds directly at her face. You try to lift the heavy artillery she and the others had been using to stall drones, but it's too heavy. In your desperation, an idea comes to mind, and before you can consider it you leap into action, blocking Jordan with your body. A drone won't attack a civilian, after all. The weapon is already charged before you hit the ground. You stare at the burning blue energy swelling in pure horror, and suddenly, time comes to a halt.

NEXT

PREVIOUS

[acourtofthought]

From everything the text has given us, Elain's Seer ability only manifested once Lucien arrived in Velaris:

She’s been talking in those half riddles all day.” I dragged a hand through my hair, freeing strands from my braid. “Did anything happen to trigger—” “I don’t know. I check on her every few hours.” Nesta clenched her jaw. “I was gone for longer yesterday, though.” (this was at most day 2 after Lucien's arrival?)

But there seems to be differences in how she sees what she sees based on Lucien's proximity to her:

Lucien was not in the room with Elain:

“I can hear the sea. Even at night. Even in my dreams. The crashing sea—and the screams of a bird made of fire.”

Lucien was forced to leave the room:

“I can hear her—crying.”

“Everyone thinks she’s dead.” Elain kept walking. “But she’s not. Only—different. Changed. As I was.”

Elain paused halfway up the stairs. Slowly, she turned to look back at him. “I saw young hands wither with age. I saw a box of black stone. I saw a feather of fire land on snow and melt it.”

Lucien had already left to do research in the library:

Nesta’s nostrils flared, but Elain peered up at Cassian, blinking twice. “He snapped your wings, broke your bones.”

Lucien was near Elain:

Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.” Elain only stared at him for a long moment. And any lucidity faded away as she shook her head, blinking twice, and said to Nesta, “Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black.”

Lucien was near Elain:

But Elain said quietly, “The queen might come.”

When Lucien isn't around, Elain talks in the present or past tense, referring to things that have already happened or are currently happening at that moment.

But when Lucien is in the room with Elain, her visions are of the future (she notes things in past tense as well however any predictions she had for the future which eventually came true were made while in Lucien's presence).

I love thinking that when Elain is near Lucien's inner light (Day Court powers), it "awakens" the gates to Elain's mind and helps her step fully into who she is (in the way both Cassian and Rhys both helped Feyre and Nesta become who they were always meant to be:

She had no mental shields, no barriers. The gates to her mind … Solid iron, covered in vines of flowers—or it would have been. The blossoms were all sealed, sleeping buds tucked into tangles of leaves and thorns. (<- at this point in the story, Lucien was far away from Elain).

[mitochondriaandbunnies]

This is a re-post/archiving of a twitter thread from Oct 16, 2021, edited slightly for clarity.

Know what I haven't done for a while? Waxed philosophical about Miami Vice.

I'm currently stuck in traffic bad enough that people have turned off their cars and are chilling outside, so here goes.

So we have a houseguest who actually ASKED to be subjected to Vice, and Dan immediately suggested we watch Bushido, because let's face it, he's a Castillo Guy, and the "Vice Squad's Lieutenant is a Weird Weeb" episodes are some of his favorites. 

I expressed some hesitation— Bushido is an episode that is very slowly paced (purposefully) and works best when you know the characters and know what the stakes are. We watched it anyway, and it didn't really land the way it should've (although the guest appreciated the Battlestar Galactica connections).

(Traffic cleared. In line for donuts now.) I tried to explain the fact that while Vice is technically an episodic show, it's a precursor to arc based shows in the ways it handles all the characters and their *emotional* arcs— case in point, in Bushido Sonny and Rico both seem *happy.* Castillo earnestly smiles for the first time in the show, and we learn the depths to which duty and honor matter to him (and yet, how much actual RULES really do not— his own code of honor supersedes the law even if he finds ways to pay lip service to it.)

This got me thinking about how Season Two of Miami Vice telegraphs an enormous amount about the characters' eventual arcs and the decisions they'll make throughout the series; practically half of S2 is episodes about Sonny Parallels crashing and burning and how that predicts his own eventual crash. Of course, those are the OBVIOUS things the show tells us about its cast. The thing I find fascinating about S2 is that a LOT of information is broadcast through music and images rather than the script, and Vice expects you to be smart enough to pick up on this and how it will come to fruition later in the series. So much of who Sonny and Rico are isn't spoken, and a lot of the things they say and do later in the series make a lot more sense if you pay attention to music and visual cues early on.

(Gonna drive again, will finish this thought in a bit…)

This, on top of a friend on the Vice Discord asking for a listing of all the music in Vice got me thinking (aloud) about the music in S1&2, and Dan mentioned there were 14 licensed songs in Prodigal Son alone. That reminded me that a few weeks back I'd had a revelation: I had realized something about You Belong to the City, a song specifically written specifically for Vice (I.E., it's a significant piece of music thematically and lyrically), and which plays in Prodigal Son over a sequence of Sonny being distraught in NYC at night. 

I wrote about Prodigal Son last year (2020) and didn't mention that sequence at all except to talk about the weird aggressive roller skater who chases Sonny on a darkened road. At the time, I frankly thought it was a song that was chosen for its sound more than its lyrics, because the lyrics don't really fit with what we're seeing on screen.

The song starts playing about halfway through the first Prodigal Son episode, right after Tubbs reunites with Valerie and leaves Sonny alone in a city he doesn't know and doesn't have any connection to. I've mentioned before that I think, as the opener for S2, Prodigal Son is very much about home and belonging. And the thing is: Sonny doesn't belong in New York. The end of the episode confirms that, at least at that point in the series, it isn't really home for Tubbs either.

Sonny's a Southern Boy, most at home on a boat. You could argue there's some kind of ominous irony in the first 1/2 of the chorus:

Cause you belong to the city You belong to the night Living in a river of darkness Beneath the neon light

But it's not objectively TRUE.

When you start picking apart the rest of the lyrics:

You can feel it Starting all over again The moon comes up And the music calls You're getting tired of Staring at the same four walls

It really starts to fall apart. Sonny isn't *tired* of anything, he didn't choose to go out wandering or to be in the city at all, Tubbs just left him alone to be with his ex-girlfriend. This isn't wanderlust, like the song implies, it's aimlessness. The second half of the chorus and the second verse make it clear that this isn't an accident.

You were born in the city Concrete under your feet It's in your moves It's in your blood You're a man of the street

This... isn't a song about Sonny Crockett. 

You Belong to the City *is about Rico.*

The second verse says:

When you said goodbye You were on the run Trying to get away From the things you've done Now you're back again And you're feeling strange So much has happened But nothing has changed

These are exactly the circumstances Rico is in in this episode—he's the titular Prodigal Son, returned home after a long time to discover things are in some ways exactly as they were, and yet he doesn't fit anymore. It doesn't describe Sonny— Sonny isn't "back," he didn't leave NY "on the run." Rico did!

So, why, then, is a song about Rico playing when Sonny is wandering the city alone? 

Because the idea that Rico *belongs here in NYC* is Sonny's driving fear at this point in the episode. From his perspective, he's been abandoned. He's unmoored. (And I think this is what leaves his guard so far down with Maggie. He is painfully lonely at the best of times throughout the series; alone in NY he's bereft. First port in a storm and all that.) That the episode ends with Take Me Home is a repudiation of that fear—especially considering the more-or-less-overt flirting that occurs when they meet again.

Why is any of this important? Because Vice is a series that often takes Show Don't Tell as far as you can go without becoming French New Wave: Now on TV! I argued last year that Prodigal Son intended for a savvy audience to read Sonny as bisexual; the seemingly incongruous lyrical use of You Belong to the City both confirms that and adds the extra wrinkle that *Tubbs needs to be considered in that equation.* 

Which is to say: the first episode of Season Two decides to make a statement about where the season is going, and that statement is that *the relationship between Sonny and Rico is import\ant and vital and that they both have a concept of home that involves each other.* Considering where the rest of the series goes, that makes the eventual unraveling of their relationship as Sonny falls apart just about the closest thing the  series has to a full overarching plot. 

THEIR PARTNERSHIP IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING, FOLKS

GLENN FREY WROTE A SONG ABOUT IT

(and I'm done)

[thegeminisage]

ok! it's star trek update time. last night we watched ds9's "paradise" and tng's "thine own self."

paradise (ds9):

this episode was an exercise in correctly predicting vibes. first it was "oh she has vibes" and she did. then it was "she crashed this spaceship herself" and she did. and then it was "this crazy bitch watches fox news" and LO, SHE MENTIONED ANCIENT EARTH RELIGIONS,

sisko in the box was HORRIBLE!!!! i dont know how obrien held back truly. i loved his action hero moments though he really is so much fun

AND sisko nearly got a close enocunter of his own...i wanted more sisko content but not quite like this. please treat him really niceys or at the very least don't put him in a box that was so dehumanizing

i can't believe in the end everybody was just like...yeah lets stay here even tough she let all those people die needlessly when she had the power to save them 🥰 it kind of ruins it, like, there's no fucking consequences??

in fact, humans are totally allowed to start colonies like this with no tech WITH CONSENT. she could have found other like-minded nutjobs and done all of this totally above-board

guy from spn hollywood babylon was in this ep.

thine own self (tng):

I WANTED AMNESIA DATA BUT NOT LIKE THIS!

girl him not knowing what "radioactive" meant even though he remembered concepts like "cellular degeneration"...this is literally why we have the "this is not a place of honor" project and you're telling me they havent nailed that shit by the 2300s?

deeply distressing to watch everyone touch the metal until about halfway through the episode when we remembered this was tng and they'd probably bullshit a cure. which they did do, but it was still distressing to watch. he gave that whole village cancer

AND THEN GOT HATE CRIMED...his head was very fun to look at after his skin got torn off but geez.

i absolutely loved this woman scientist. instead of screaming and running away from him she promptly assigned him iceman at birth and went on about her life. big "that guy has horns oh well not gonna ruin my day" energy. and i mean considering the state of science in her society she was doing pretty good to work with what she had

once again, data is dead and buried. but they exhumed him just like they exhumed beverly nana. his android body has gotta be so old by this point...

"jayden" as data's fake name gave me fits because of course im thinking of mr fbi from heavy rain. been awhile.

i did NOT like the b-plot of this episode. deanna doing badly on the tests until she ordered geordi to die sucked and riker being so harsh with her sucked. i think the lesson was that deanna should have been willing to go in herself and die, although i guess she's not skilled enough to make the repairs. still it feels weird that you can just order someone to die like...geordi's brave and he'd do it but what if he didn't want to? then what? nobody thought this through

if i ordered geordi to die in the holodeck i would never be able to look him in the eyes (or visor, whatever) ever again

however the women on this show did get to talk repeatedly about stretching themselves so there is that i guess

TONIGHT: ds9's "shadowplay" and tng's "masks."

[definitelynotshouting]

62, 65, 81, 91

Ask me fanfic writer questions!

Hey Book!! :D wouldve answered these last night but as you know tumblr crashed on me 😭😭😭😭 so im answering it now instead!!

62.) what’s the weirdest reason you’ve ever shipped something?

Idk if this counts as weird per se but i straight up started shipping winteriron (Tony Stark x Bucky Barnes) because of THIS FUCKING FIC. It sold me on them SO HARD. Sometimes all it takes is one godtier fic that does everything right to get you hooked on a rarepair ✌️😔😔😔

65.) what is your favourite title for a fic you’ve written? 

If we're talking og titles i came up with myself, the title of my unpublished TES Oblivion fic is The Stars Have No Names, which ive always been fond of, especially combined with its planned sequel, But Those We Give Them-- which makes a full sentence that just sorta encapsulates the vibe of the whole thing in a way that really scratches my brain just right. This is closely followed by the piece i did for the DSMP Comics Zine, A Few E.G.G.s Short of the Full Scramble, which has multiple layers of puns loaded into it and makes me laugh like a lunatic every time i remember them

As for stuff that isnt original (aka song lyrics or poetry verses, which i steal from shamelessly), i'd have to say im most fond of sightless, unless the eyes reappear, which is the tma fic i wrote that accidentally predicted a decent chunk of the podcast's ending 😭 if i had a fucking nickel.... The verse is ripped from T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men" and i really loved how it just perfectly hits the vibes i was going for in that fic. Extremely on-the-nose titles are a game and brother i am WINNING

81.) if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

"Hello tiny TJ. First of all, you are a transgender dyke. No this isnt relevant i just thought you ought to know. Anyway cool it with the perfectionism man one day people are gonna read a fic where every individual tag warning you've added is its own separate vine boom and you're gonna get tons of compliments on it despite the fact that it isnt what you consider fully polished. Got that written down? Cool. Now go forth and kiss women, peace<3"

91.) how has your writing style changed over the years?

My writing's always been pretty descriptive, but over the last few years its REALLY shifted into overdrive on the imagery. I think thats always been my biggest strength as a writer, and its something i really, really enjoy doing. As ive said in the past: if im not painting pictures with my words then what, pray tell, is the point!!!

The other thing ive noticed is that ive been dipping my toes into more experimental formatting, whether thats in regards to the story's structure (shout out to that time i planned to write a fic in reverse chronological order), the points of view (second person my beloved), different narration styles, or just the way the words on the page look-- something i know has been directly inspired by my cousin, who has an unpublished 85k Dead Space fanfic which replaces an ENTIRE CHAPTER with a twine game. The man is insane and i love him so much and one day i will bully him into finishing this fic because its not even halfway done what the fuck. Anyway thats my answer THANK YOU BOOK FOR SENDING THESE :DD

[toronto-tree-removal]

DIY vs. Professional Tree Removal: Which is Right for You in Toronto?

Have you ever looked at that towering oak in your Toronto backyard and thought, “I could probably take care of that myself”? 🤔 While the DIY approach might seem tempting, tree removal is a task that demands careful consideration. You’re not just dealing with a simple gardening chore; you’re facing a potentially dangerous and complex operation.

Picture this: You’re halfway through sawing a massive branch when it suddenly shifts, threatening to crash onto your roof or, worse, your neighbor’s property. 😱 That’s just one of the many risks you might encounter. But don’t worry! We’re here to help you navigate the tricky decision between DIY tree removal and hiring professionals in Toronto. By the end of this post, you’ll have a clear understanding of the factors to consider, the potential risks involved, and why sometimes it’s best to leave it to the experts with over 15 years of experience. Ready to make an informed decision that could save you time, money, and possibly even prevent injuries? Let’s dive in and explore the world of tree removal in the bustling city of Toronto! 🌳🏙️

Consider the Risk Factors of DIY Tree Removal

Using Ladders Inappropriately

When considering DIY tree removal, you must be aware of the dangers associated with improper ladder use. Climbing trees with ladders can be extremely hazardous, as unstable surfaces and uneven ground can lead to falls. Always ensure your ladder is on solid, level ground and secure it properly before ascending.

Using Wrong or Defective Tools

The right tools are crucial for safe tree removal. Using improper or faulty equipment can result in serious injuries or property damage. Here’s a quick comparison of common tools:ToolProper UseRisks of MisuseChainsawCutting branches and trunkKickback, cutsPruning SawTrimming smaller branchesStrain, fallsAxSplitting woodMissed swings, fatigue

Handling Chainsaw Improperly

Chainsaws are powerful but dangerous tools. Without proper training, you risk severe injuries. Key safety measures include:

Wearing protective gear (helmet, goggles, gloves)

Maintaining a firm grip with both hands

Avoiding cutting above shoulder height

Keeping the chain sharp and properly tensioned

Lack of Tree Removal Knowledge

Tree removal requires specialized knowledge of:

Tree structure and growth patterns

Proper cutting techniques

Fall direction prediction

Safety protocols

Without this expertise, you may misjudge the tree’s fall, endangering yourself and your property.

Failing to Check Hidden Power Lines

Before any tree removal, you must identify and avoid power lines. Contact with these can lead to electrocution or widespread power outages. Always consult local utilities before proceeding.

Not Being Aware of Decaying Wood

Decaying wood can make tree removal unpredictable and dangerous. You need to assess the tree’s health accurately to anticipate potential hazards during removal. Professional arborists have the skills to identify these risks and take appropriate precautions.

Now that you understand the risks of DIY tree removal, let’s explore other factors to consider before making your decision.

Other Factors to Consider

What is another name for tree service?

Tree service is often referred to by various names, each reflecting different aspects of the industry. Here’s a quick overview:Alternative NameDescriptionArboricultureThe scientific study and care of treesUrban ForestryManagement of trees in urban environmentsTree CareGeneral term for tree maintenance and healthTree SurgerySpecialized tree care involving pruning and removal

You might hear these terms used interchangeably, but they all relate to the professional care and management of trees in various settings.

What are the rules for tree removal in Toronto?

Toronto has specific regulations for tree removal to protect its urban forest. Here are the key points you need to know:

A permit is required to remove trees on private property that are 30cm in diameter or larger (measured at 1.4m above ground level)

You must apply for a permit even if the tree is dead, diseased, or potentially hazardous

Fines for illegal tree removal can be substantial, ranging from $500 to $100,000 per tree

The city may require you to plant replacement trees as a condition of permit approval

Always check with the City of Toronto’s Urban Forestry department before removing any trees on your property to ensure compliance with local bylaws.

Full Article here : Professional Tree Removal

[rocktoberr]

GOOD LORD I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON I WAS AVOIDING SOCIAL MEDIA

i hate trade season </3 my heart is in pieces on the floor again

tbh brendan makes sense to trade out as much as it would suck but like we have alan and obv mac (because i refuse to consider it an actual possibility that he gets traded) and its baseball half the team plays at least 3 positions. the whole thing for the rockies is that our pitching staff is as reliable and sturdy as running a madden25 ranked match on that one cousin's grimey ps2 only connected to internet by dial-up. that and the constant more or less vote of no confidence given to literally any vet not a fan favorite. its not a baseball team its a money grab. im one bad day of rockies news from writing myself in as the gm that fixes it all 2012 wattpad style

even if mac does get traded i hope he goes to the damn yanks literally just for the - gather? idk the word for what im thinking and im way too tired to be writing rn - w dj because i would write that fic to hell and then some . . . sideplot bryzzo would go so hard with it . . . . .but also going to a big name bigger wallet team means he's getting recognized as the absolute KING that he is and god knows he more than deserves it. tf you mean chappy got the gold glove ToT not in my heart

anyway we have to stay positive or we collapse so

bo nix looks like the strongest runner in this season's roty campaign and the broncos look really damn good when the defense comes to play nate atkins had a touchdown and whats his name that took chubb's number had a pick. cant stop thinking about holding kirk cousins to field goals. i'm not thinking about justin simmons im not thinking about jerry jeudy im not thinking about drew lock im not thinking about kendall hinton im not thinking about noah fant im not thinking about brandon mcmanus im not thinking about all the guys we've lost since 2015 im not- the javonte touchdown when he was carried into the end zone was hilarious and lives rent free in my mind

the nuggets looked like shit about halfway through won their game tonight and the rumor why joker's out is that his wife is having another baby. vlatko might have reinjured his knee and saric showed up big time. jamal was extra fluffy and adorable even though he kept making bad passes in the 2nd half and made some huge shots. russ was called for the weakest tech ive ever seen cooked and is now the all time nba leader in triple doubles (200) (i think) coach malone was hilarious to watch on the sidelines and is now tied as the nuggets winningest head coach

THE CHIEFS FINALLY FUCKIN LOST TOO

I get trading Brendan. I feel like all of us saw it from mile away honestly, it’s the least surprising thing that would happen this off-season. What would be surprising if we got someone value from him.

However, Mac gets traded I physically do not know what I’ll do with myself. If he gets traded, obviously I’m gonna want him to win the World Series right away because he deserves it and deserves everything good happen in life and I know him and Judge have been friends since childhood so there’s that as well that would add a different synergy to the Yankees roster.

Bestie imma try my best to stay positive this offseason however the nuggets are so iffy that you can’t really predict how the seasons gonna go and it seems like we are nothingness without jokic which adds a whole new problem.(also it has been a brought to my attention that Malone shops at my local King Soopers which probably means he lives somewhere close to me, and that scares me) Also, the Broncos are just confusing. They confuse me I don’t know how to feel. BUT YOUR RIGHT AT LEAST THE CHEIFS FINALLY FUCKING LOST. ALL HAIL JOSH ALLEN

Anyways, if we trade Mac, I will literally crash out 

[greenreadsdresdenfiles]

Proven Guilty

Green: OK, in the past few chapters, there has been exposition on both mind magic and time magic

Green: which, when Harry was explaining mind magic, l was like "OK, looks like this is going to be the book in which the bad guys use mind magic"

Green: but then Bob started talking about time magic so now it's like which one's it going to be?

Orange: exposition is my fave position

Green: l mean, probably something else

Orange: ahahaha

Green: it's probably going to be using themes from the discussion on mind magic, which is that some types of magic turn you evil

Orange: i think it's either a setup for this book or the next or like

Green: my guess is there's going to be someone who is like, halfway there

Orange: there's setups several books in advance sometimes

Green: yeah

Orange: sometimes there's been setups the whole time

Orange: and you only learn it when all the dominoes crash down in one book

Orange: and they crash on our boy, harry

Orange: like they were calculated to do so by a malevolent god

Green: Bob's like "if a paradox happens in a weak enough spot, the entire world could be destroyed"

Orange: because they were

Green: and l'm like "l smell a sideplot 10 books from now"

Orange: book theory: butcher is a supernatural entity in his own series

Orange: he's the bad guy behind it all, specifically focusing on making harry suffer as much as possible without actually killing him

Orange: stringing him along with hope so he doesn't go full breakdown and become a hobo

Orange: a cruel and vicious god

Green: hahaha

Green: here is my prediction

Green: harry is going to bang michael's daughter

Green: (not serious)

Green: oh she's 17

Green: even less serious now

Green: l was just thinking, "what's something that would make Harry want to avoid Michael even more?"

Orange: hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Orange: wait

Orange: mind magic

Orange: so are you on book 8

Orange: is the daughter somehow mixed up in shenanigans

Green: yeah I'm on book 8

Orange: hohohooo

Green: she had him bail her bf (who works at splattercon) out of jail

Orange: i remember some of this one

Orange: yeah

Orange: splattercon

Orange: the best

Orange: good stuff here

Green: also all of Michael's kids are incredibly cute

Orange: what kind of father would michael be if he didn't raise very solid great children

Orange: who then have freaking

Orange: GOTH EMO PHASE

Orange: as you do

Orange: as i did

Green: this is my favorite thing in the universe

"Don't call me Leech," she said in the patient tone of someone who has said something a million times and plans on saying it a million times more. "Hello, sir," she told me. "Alicia," I said, nodding. Evidently the use of her actual name constituted a gesture of partnership. She gave me a somewhat relieved and conspiratorial smile.

Green: like, she calls him sir? She really appreciates him using her proper name?

Green: that's cute

Orange: nothing but the best from michael

Orange: nothing but the best

Orange: his wife too

Green: and he just gives her the name greeting

Orange: yes he does that

Orange: it's so weird

Orange: when he's uncomfortable he freaking lets his mouth run wild

Orange: when he's okay, he can do the cool sorta minimal wordage stuff

Green: yeah!

Green: with Matthew he doesn't even say hi he just nods

Orange: yeah

Orange: uncle dresden

Orange: ahahaha

Orange: uncle harry the hairy uncle

Orange: man getting my nieces and nephews to use 'uncle' before using my name is a constant struggle for their parents

Green: also Amanda calls him Bill because they already have a Harry

Orange: waehehehe

Orange: i forgot they have a harry

Orange: why not tom, they can call him tom and have another kid and he can be Richard

Orange: and then you have tom dick and harry

Green: geeze

Green: black magic is always the fucked up stuff huh

Green: oh hey it's maeve!!!

Green: l remember her

Green: she walks in and this isthe first thing she says

Maeve stared at me for a long minute and licked her lips. "Look at you," she all but purred. "All pent up like that. You haven't had a woman in ages, have you?"

Green: also l like her outfit

Green: l know l said l don't like reading descriptions, but outfits are a huge exception

Green: highlights include rainbow-colored hair, blue cut-off jorts, and a t-shirt that says "YOUR BOYFRIEND WANTS ME"

Green: chad

Green:

Maeve waited for her lemonade, wrapped her lips idly around the straw, and sipped. Then she settled back into her seat, chewing. Crunching sounds came from her mouth. The lemonade had frozen solid when it passed her lips. Which made me feel pretty damned smart for avoiding the whole sexual temptation issue.

Green:

"The good guys win!" Bob cheered. "Or at least you do. You're still a good guy, right? You know how confusing the whole good-evil concept is for me."

Green: looks like white court vampires' eyes turn silver when they vamp out

Green: also so far Harry's fought Jason, a Xenomorph, and…a scarecrow? I want to say it's Jack Skellington

Green: heyyy it was mind magic all along!

Green: btw I hope to god that the fairies who clean his house become important at some point

Green: they were a huge plot point in Pale and that was so much fun

Orange: Ehehehee

Green: Btw l love that the security guard sees harry and giving him the once over is like "hmm...big bearded man with a giant dog, wearing a huge coat, looks pretty messed up, looks like he's packing heat- oh he has a splattercon badge this checks out

Green: "

Orange: hahhahahahahaha

Orange: i forget who the scarecrow is

Orange: but you got the xenomorph and jason i think

Green: They just fought a couple rabid animals from a movie I've never heard of, and also "Bucky the Doll"

Orange: there's gotta be some spooki scarecrow out there

Green: Who's clearly supposed to be Chucky

Orange: yes

Green: So yeah the unknown ones are the Scarecrow (who l'm pretty sure is Jack Skellington?), the rabid animals, and the Hammerman

Orange: well like

Orange: it's gotta be horror movie stuff

Orange: horror/thriller

Green: Jack Skellington is scary in-universe though

Green: His whole thing is scaring people

Orange: yeah but i'm assuming these appearances are something to do with the actual fear existing in people right

Orange: phobophage, was it called?

Green: Yeah...

Orange: you know

Orange: i bet someone's already found out what these references are

Green: Yeah

Green: Oh l looked up "horror movie pumpkin head" and it might be Pumpkinhead from Pumpkinhead

Orange: hmm

Orange: i just looked at a picture of Pumpkinhead from Pumpkinhead and i don't see no pump nor kin on any head

Orange: there's a scarecrow in jeepers creepers

Orange: but no pumpkin

Orange: maybe he didn't wanna have too many references because the publisher/editor kept shooting down ideas

Green: Hm also now that l'm thinking about it, the Reaper might be the guy from Scream, rather than Jason

Green: l didnt read the description that closely

Orange: hmmmm

Green: He just soul gazed molly and hot dang am I excited to see more stories involving her

Orange: HAHAHAHA

Orange: MOLLS

Orange: you may or may not have your wish granted

Green: And her thing is she's really good at mind magic

Orange: yes

Green: That's going to be real fun

Orange: she has T-A-L-E-N-T

Orange: while harry, no offense

Green: Lot of potential for "oh shit I messed up big time" plots

Orange: not exactly the most talented magician

Orange: he's got power sure

Green: Yeah yeah

Orange: but like you can have all the muscle without knowing how to tie your shoes

Green: When he messes up big time it's just political stuff or collateral damage

Orange: i stg the magic meta could have so many broken strats in it if people like harry start minmaxing

Orange: they got all the time to train!

Green: But l bet when Molly messes up it's big and tangled and messy

Orange: well see it's tangled because molly, unlike harry, knows how to tie shoes

Green: Lol true

Orange: (jk i'm sure harry knows how to tie his shoes! And he learned at the very young age of 25!)

Orange: yeah well the whole wizard community seems to be pretty black and white (heh) about the whole following Da Rules thing

Orange: and they already hate harry so if harry's associated with someone who breaks the rules they'll go after them too

Green:

Dressed in his formal black robes, with a deep purple cowl that left his features shadowed but for the glitter of his dark eyes, the Gatekeeper stood in the doorway for a moment, and something gave me the impression that he was staying at the Merlin.

Green: What an interesting outfit he's wearing

Orange: HIS COWL

Green: Hahahaha

Orange: there's no way that cowl will let himself be seen wearing a cowl in his non-cowl identity

Orange: unless.. that's what he wants harry to think

Orange: keep your eyes on that gatekeeper

Green: Haha yeah it could be a false flag

Green: Aw

Green: He told Michael everything

Green: V cute

Green: Also Michael knew

Green: Which, not unsurprising.

Orange: MICHAEL IS SO FREAKING BASED

Orange: just

Orange: kiss already

Orange: KISS ALREADY

Orange: HARRY YOU HAVE A DEMON LADY IN YOUR HEAD RN ITS TIME TO BE GAY

Orange: ;u; but like

Orange: i love how harry was so scared and michael was like dude, it's cool

Orange: just don't be a denarian, renounce your wizarding ways

Orange: and harry's like no sorry haha

Green: Yes!!!

Green: I love Michael

Green: And, l love that he's like "we don't know that that's the only way to get rid of denarianism, so try not to be too evil in the meantime"

Green: Also Molly is hitting on Dresden

Green: Slightly overtly

Green: l stg if you were lying about the dry spell l will shit

Orange: molly is sometimes channeling The Girl That Tries To Ruin The Yaoi

Green: Lol

Orange: but harry, harry can't not suffer

Orange: the only time harry should be allowed to have sex is like, moments before his sexual partner dies right

Orange: or he can have sex with bad guys, who then either is revealed to be bad and killed, or who has a really sweet change of heart and is also killed

Orange: harry's ex's shouldn't be in texas, they should be six feet under

Green: Oh nice callback

Orange: what callback

Green: He dumped ice water on Molly

Orange: I DID NOT GET THIS CALLBACK

Orange: so you're finishing up book 8???

Orange: whatttt

Green: Mhm

Orange: or is this not the end

Green: I mean

Green: Idk

Orange: green you're a voracious reader

Green: Its an ebook of 7-12

Orange: oh is it just the whole thing in one

Green: Yeah

Orange: oh nice

Green: But like, it's been hitting all the "we're getting close to the end of the book" beats

Orange: nice

Green: Like l am definitely solidly in the denouement

Green: All the book mysteries got unraveled, he got the girl, he talked to Michael

Green: l don't see many other conflicts other than teacher/student conflicts, which honestly are better left brewing over the next few books

Orange: ehehehehe

Orange: it took me a while to actually start seeing the patterns you're picking up right away

Orange: or maybe you're just thinking on the right wavelengths

Orange: it's cool

Green: l mean, except that next book should be all about "I'm really new at being a teacher oh god l'm fucking it all up"

Orange: YEAH

Orange: there's no way it won't be that

Orange: right

Green: That's going to be cute, and relatable

Orange: it will be

Green: Gosh l hope so

Orange: very cute and relatable

Orange: it has to be

Orange: butcher can't pass up an opportunity like that

Orange: could he

Green: You're worrying me

Orange: i guess he could just kill molly

Orange: but that wouldn't be satisfying!

Orange: he should only kill molly at the time where it will hurt harry the most

Orange: <rot13>ba gurve jrqqvat qnl</rot13>

Orange: i joke

Orange: it's a joke

Green: Yeah!!!

Orange: but yes

Green: Or, better yet, he should be the one to do it

Orange: OHHHHH

Orange: GREEN YOU DEVIL

Green: Hehwhehehe

Orange: that's the sorta thinking that we need in the writing community

Green: Hahaha

Orange: that creative ethic of how to make your hero suffer

Orange: Molly should like

Orange: become twisted by the cruel world into a person who does anything to get what she needs

Green: Yes!!!

Green: I mean

Green: No

Orange: and when harry realizes this, on the freaking, when they play the music and walk her down the aisle

Orange: he goes

Orange: "fuego"

Orange: tears streaming down his face

Green: I want there to be two timelines, one in which that happens and one where he saves her

Orange: ok, so there are the two timelines right

Orange: but in the saving molly timeline, she dies right when he thinks she is safe

Green: And the one where he saves her is the one we follow, but we get to see what happens in the other one sometimes

Green: Hahaha

Green: You're too cruel!!!

Orange: I am not too cruel

Orange: i just really like seeing harry suffer

Orange: i don't care how many girls have to die before he turns gay but i'm gonna find out

Green: He just forbade her to masturbate?

Orange: waitwhat

Green: "Hi, yeah, not only am l not going to have sex with you, you're not going to have sex with you"

Orange: dang harry, that's cold

Orange: but i guess it makes sense

Orange: he knew her when she was a wee lass

Green:

"Sex makes things complicated, and for you that could be bad." "But..." "And no, ah, solo exploration either." She blinked at me and asked in a blank tone, "Why?" "You'll go blind," I said, and walked up to her front porch. "You're joking," she said, and then hurried to catch up. "That's a joke, right? Harry?" I marched her up to her house without answering her. Molly wore a hopeless look on her face, as though she envied a condemned criminal, who could at least hope that the governor might call at the last minute.

Orange: harry you dog

Orange: you should have used your one brain cell to make up a story about how you need to power magic with sexual energy or something

Green: I feel like that would be unwise

Orange: i mean, we are talking about harry here

Orange: i'm not suggesting the wise decision i'm suggesting the funny one

Orange: he is incapable of being wise

Green: Hahaha fair

Green: I like that the Harry and Molly thing is exactly the same situation as Anakin and Ahsoka from Star Wars

Orange: mmmmmmmmm

Orange: is ahsoka the lady who anakin macked on in the prequels

Green: I mean, l say this without having watched The Clone Wars

Orange: ah i tooo have failed to watch that show

Green: No Ahsoka was the protagonist of the animated tv show

Orange: oh her

Orange: the twin tails girl

Green: She was Anakin's apprentice, and eventually the jedi council tried to execute her for turning to the dark side

Green: (She hadn't, really)

Orange: ooooo

Green: Anakin was a little bit mad at the council for this

Green: actually l think they might've actually done it?

Orange: oooo

Green: Finished Proven Guilty

Green: And hot dang I'd like to say that I totally called what it would be about

Orange: dang

Green: Green you genius

Orange: you are pretty solid with at least your immediate predictions

Green: Except it was so much better than I thought it would be

Orange: you're not so far from changes

Orange: changes is hype

Green: I'm pretty far

Green: It's #12 and I just finished #8

Green: Next is White Night but l think l need a bit of a break lol

Green: Also l think that title is a bit of a bummer

Green: Since he already used the Knight/Night thing for book 4

Green: But here's my predictions for White Night - it'll be about the white court, and also about finding a home for his magic sword

Green: And also about his brand new apprentice, on the personal side of things

Orange: hmmmm

Orange: yeah idk if white knight was great

Orange: it's probably alright

Orange: nope nope nvm it's ok

Green: it'd better have a bunch of good dresden and molly moments!!!

Orange: and by ok i mean

Orange: i definitely remember a punchy moment here

Orange: that i think is good

Orange: i think you can expect to see molly show off what a magician with more than one brain cell can do

Orange: but i'm not certain, i just think

Green: that's exciting, but what l want is dresden and molly moments!

Green: their interplay!

Green: their banter, if any!

Orange: well yeah

Orange: you might get a moment or two

Orange: harry is a.. fun teacher if anything

Orange: he's got a whole bucket of trauma and he'll maybe try really hard to make sure molly avoids such trauma right

Green: hahahaha

Green: that's pretty exciting

Orange: but harry is stupid right

Orange: so he'd pick really stupid teaching methods i bet

Green:

Molly: You know, I may not see eye to eye with my mom but I really do love my siblings. Dresden: *sucks in air through his teeth* Don't go down that road, Molly.

Green: hm that phenomenon you were just talking about is probably why Dresden forbid Molly from everything sexual

Green: U_U

Orange: it makes sense

Green: "OK Molly, lesson number one is to trust no one. I mean, sure, there are good people in the world, but l can practically guarantee that none of them will want to have sex with you. lf someone is attracted to you? Huuuge red flag. Are you writing this down? Sex is evil, write that down."

Green: You know dresden files is pretty good mystery novels

Green: each novel has 2-4 interrelated "major" mysteries going on and sometimes a few minor mysteries, and while things are surprising, it's never totally out of the blue like "wait, what?"

Green: l mean there are definitely twists which l don't think l could have guessed in advance even if l went over everything with a fine-toothed comb

Green: but some, like Molly being a wizard, were definitely foreshadowed and l'm like "ohhhhhhh"

Green: ldk these are good books!

Orange: ohohoho

Green: and very readable

Green: l also think book girl being coin girl was a good twist

Green: oh and back in book 2 or 3, where harry's like "there are 3 different types of werewolf, so l guess l need to figure out which type we're dealing with here" and the answer is "ALL THREE"

Green: l thought that was super fun

Orange: ohh yeah!!!

Orange: I forgot those books were so long ago

Orange: must be nearly a decade

Green: yeah they came out in like 2002

Green: so almost 2

Green: Proven Guilty came out in 2006 l think

[misery-has-no-company-now]

Ahh my heart this is so cute I'm thinking of this scene too now and sooo...here you go : (btw tw for abuse plus mildy graphic descriptions of the same and I don't mean to offend anyone who likes abstract art okay, it's just for this story)

Mass sighed as he stretched his arms, closing his laptop and getting up. He'd been grading essays all day long, and couldn't possibly check a single code more. He didn't want to do anything more tonight, but he couldn't fall asleep either. He'd just finished his...sixth cup of Dunkin's recently? Eh, that was worth it.

He made his way down to the kitchen since he did need to eat some real food after all, though Connie would be fine with not being aware of him knowing that. As he was about to leave, he decided to check the living room too since he heard someone there.

It was just New York, curled up on the couch like the cat he refused to accept he was and switching on the television. He looked up as Mass entered. "Heyy, I was just about to start a movie. You want to join?"

Mass shrugged, "Sure, why not?" He jerked his head to the side. "Scoot over though, you're taking up all the space."

"Nearly the entire couch is empty, ya Masshole. You literally have more than two-thirds to sit on. Or do you perhaps need more space than that?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up and turn the film on." Mass grumbled, seating himself on the other end of the couch. New York uncurled his body, snickering at Mass while repeating his statement. Why his brother felt the need to laugh at Mass' use of the word 'film' was something he had no idea about. He grunted as New York decided to use his lap as a pillow. That didn't stop him from stroking his hand through his brother's fluffy hair, however.

"No beanie?" he asked curiously. New York without his beanie on his head was like Mass without a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Nah, I took it off. Too tired tonight." New York replied, starting the movie and keeping the remote in his hand while leaning his head further towards Mass, if that was even possible.

"Ah okay. Give me the remote then. It might fall from your hand if you fall asleep."

"Nope, not a chance." He snuggled closer to Mass as he moved said object firmly out of his reach. "Remote stays with the younger one."

"Connie said the exact opposite the other day." Mass huffed, receiving a chuckle in response.

"Tough luck being a middle brother I guess."

Mass narrowed his eyes at that, though he didn't reply anything in return as the opening music had ended and the actual story began. New York finally found a comfortable position on his lap, and the two of them settled down; watching the movie in a peaceful silence.

Halfway through the film, Mass felt the weight on him get lighter. He diverted his gaze from the screen to look at a New York who had just nodded off. 'Damn,' he thought to himself. 'He must've been real tired then. That boy never sleeps if he can help it.'

Mass noticed that his grip on the remote he had so tightly held on all this time had loosed up a bit. He didn't really care about who held it, if he was being really honest, but he knew that if it fell, it might land with a crash. And he would rather New York wake up momentarily as something was taken from his hand than shoot up in fear due to a loud sound so close to him. 

So he gently took the remote from his hand, and just like he had predicted, New York opened his bleary eyes; closing them again as Mass restarted stroking his hair. He decided to turn around since he woke up anyway, facing away from the television so that he could sleep better. At this shift, the sleeves of his oversized hoodie (which definitely didn’t belong to New Jersey, being a better fit on him anyway) slid up, baring his arms. He didn’t care to put them back in place because he was too snug to bother moving, but Mass internally gasped at what he saw. 

For New York’s arms were littered with scars and burn marks. There were more remains of old injuries on them than skin. Mass distinctly recalled Rhode Island explaining the concept of abstract art to him. Sometime during that, he had taken an empty canvas and smeared red paint randomly throughout it, then splashing spots and freckles of brown and yellow here and there. New York’s arms resembled that, except it had none of the beauty the painting had eventually turned out to possess. No, it was gruesome. Mass took in all the reminders of the wounds he could see, with his experience as a war medic - and being the designated nurse for all the states - being the only reason he didn’t throw up immediately at the sight of marks he then agonisingly realised New York had to look at every single day. 

There were the lacerations of swords and knives, from the lashes on his palms when he tried to stop the weapon by extending his hands all the way till presumably to his shoulders, since the lower half of his upper arms were still covered. There were the savage scars from when the people who used to mercilessly whip his back bloody - especially when he was a prisoner - would ‘unintentionally’ miss their target and land the rough rope on the back of his arms instead. There were the fading circles from when heavy chains clasped his wrists tightly, most of them from this same time, yet none of these were the worst of all the marks scattered across his poor arms. That title would definitely go to the painful-looking burns inflicted all over them.

There were areas which were completely white and yellow, with tinges of red surrounding the burnt skin as if they had been there just some time back, but Mass was well aware that they had occurred long ago. What did seem to be recent though, where the scratches clearly caused by fingernails on some of them. Mass peered at them with greater worry. They didn’t seem to be done by someone. The work of the nails went in a direction that would have been easier for New York himself to achieve than another person might have. It appeared as if he had cut across the writings branded onto his skin in some of the disfigured places in order to remove them from his body. If he was responsible for these marks himself, he’d successfully managed to tear out his skin from wherever there were words branded onto them, except a bit in one spot that would have been particularly hard to get rid of them from. Mass’ heart skipped a beat as he read the message seared on it. 

Property of England 

That fucking bastard. 

He hated him.He hated him beyond belief. He hated him with all he had. He hated him to sizes which couldn’t be compared by a scale. He hated him for his cruel treatment. He hated him for each and every mark he had so maliciously inflicted upon the person whom he only knew as his dearest younger brother. He hated him for all the times he would have to patch up a whimpering New York after a particularly rough beating from the country. He hated him for claiming that he had just been ‘teaching a lesson’ whenever he tortured the state. He hated him for making his brother believe the abuse he went through was his fault. He hated him for every single tear his brother had ever shed, and he hated him for every single tear his brother had been too terrified to ever shed. He hated him for being the reason New York was afraid of crying to this date.

He hated him for thinking New York’s autism was ‘an illness to beat out of that wretched boy’. He hated him for always being so angry at and so malicious towards the son who deserved so much better than anything he ever received from that nation. He hated him for being the reason his brother still suffered from so much trauma and self-esteem issues, along with the plethora of other problems the man who claimed to be their father had caused him to have. He hated him for being the reason New York spent most of his childhood in agony. He hated him for all the pain he had forced the innocent state to endure daily when he had no choice other than to live with him. He hated him so much he wanted to bring him back to life just to have the pleasure of being the one to kill him. He hated him to an unimaginable limitless expanse, but he hated himself even more. 

Because if it wasn’t for him and his actions, New York would have never had to undergo so much suffering in his entire life. If it wasn’t for him being too stubborn to fit into England’s ideas of a war weapon, that cruel coloniser would have never diverted his attention towards New York instead. If it wasn’t for him forcing England to give up on him, New York would have never been focused on to the amount he was, so would have never received as many verbal and physical kicks and blows as he ended up getting all the time. If it wasn’t for him not allowing England to mould him into the perfect weapon he so greatly desired, New York would never have been picked to replace him in that position. If it wasn’t for him being a rebellious child who always argued over everything, his brother would have never got punished for the slightest of infractions daily.

If it wasn’t for him not being the ideal child England wanted, the country would have never been as harsh on New York as he was; for if Mass would have become the war weapon he so badly wanted, he would have never squashed all the defiance in New York in the brutal ways he had, and if Mass had accepted the position he wished for him to have, England would have never gone to the lengths he did to ensure that New York did not rebel like his brother did - because he would have never seen the state as his last resort, so would not have treated him with such cruelty. If it wasn’t for him running off sometimes when he heard the tell-tale sounds of England’s anger being taken out on New York, the Empire State would have not thought he was about to meet his death as many times as he did before he would have even been considered an adult in the human world. If it wasn’t for him, New York’s arms would never bear all the horrible scars and burns that were still there.

This was his fault. It was all entirely his fault. He was the reason his younger brother suffered all the torture clearly evident on his arms at England’s hands. He was the reason his brother was still always in pain. He was the reason his brother would have been terrified at the sound the remote might have made had it crashed to the floor. He stopped caressing New York’s hair, staring miserably at the visible ghastly marks on him that he was the reason for - the movie long ago forgotten and ignored. He was so deep in the pits of self-hatred and dismay that he didn’t notice New York was observing him too.

The sleeping state had woken up the moment he could no longer sense any type of movement in his hair. He’d been confused since Mass would not have gone to sleep so fast - he knew of the six cups of coffee the Bay State had taken that day; he would have Connie or Texas scold him for that tomorrow. He looked up at Mass, careful to not move his head too much in case he was actually sleeping, and followed his gaze to…the scars on his uncovered arms. Shit. 

He was still too tired to say anything about it, though he knew Mass was probably blaming himself for what England had done. He personally had never thought it was any of his brothers’ fault for how he had been treated by England, and on the contrary, he felt Mass’ presence at the bouse made the whole ordeal less unbearable. He was unable to voice these thoughts at the moment, and his speech would have come out slurred thus indecipherable anyway, so he resorted to moving his arms out of Mass’ view - instead wrapping them around the sorrowful state, whose breath hitched upon this. 

Mass choked as New York hugged him. He didn’t deserve any of that. He didn’t deserve his brother’s love at all. “I’m so sorry, kid,” he tried to say but choked as his voice failed him. New York didn’t entirely understand what Mass was thinking about, but he could tell something was wrong even if Mass hadn’t been able to say anything. Neither of them would be able to converse about the same at this time in this situation, but over the centuries they both had acquired ways of expressing themselves without words. Right now, he hugged his brother even tighter, cuddling up closer to him. In response, Mass grabbed a blanket and covered both of them. He sighed to himself as he snuggled up on the couch too. He would blame himself for what his brother underwent later. Right now he could take care of him. That was the least he could do for New York.

Thinking about your NY and his brothers

How do you think Gov would react when he learns how they were all treated by England? Like I'm pretty sure he would punch that bastard in the face (again) the next time they meet [I have a hc that while IDC handles meetings outside the country, any nation which visits talks to Gov. So now imagine an unknowing England coming up for some random reason recently after Gov discovers the way he used to treat the states.]

I actually have a hc that when NY was rescued from the prison (during the Rev. War), Gov (or Congress at the time) beat England to a bloody pulp and shanked that mf in the heart twice with a grin on his face, whilst PA dealt with York. Mass would’ve came, but PA being the awesome bf he is didn’t want Mass to have to see York like that, and told him to stay with NJ and CT so that he could mentally prepare himself and get stuff ready for if York needed medical help (he needed SO MUCH-).

In terms of how England treat NY and his older brothers (TW: abuse), I think that NY was the only one that England ever got brutally physical with. NY was his prized possession and England wanted him to be either EXACTLY like him, or at least something he could use a weapon for war. And so he would beat the living sh*t out of York, and call it "training". And NY thought it was, he thought "Oh this is training, I just need to get better so that I stop getting hurt and stop making Father angry!”. York constantly got beat both verbally and physically almost everyday. It was even worse cuz England hated it when York cried and hated that York was autistic and would even go so far as to say that he was beating the "illness" out of him.

With NJ, I think that England definitely belittled him for having Tourette’s Syndrome, and would sometimes yell at him for his tics. I feel like he also definitely called NJ a spawn of Satan whenever he pleased, and that definitely did a number on NJ’s self-esteem (my poor baby-). England would probably try to hit NJ, but that would just result in him nearly losing a finger. Though NJ did rebel and leave home as soon as he could (CT, and Mass stayed home to study and argue with England and be there to help NY if needed, though Mass would run to the little place where him and the other colonies hung out when the cries and whimpers of his little brother’s pain got too unbearable for him to hear).

Massachusetts was England’s first attempt at a war weapon, but Mass’s stubborn lovable nerdy ass rebelled before England could be anywhere near as harsh as he was with NY. Like I said before, Mass still stayed home, but sometimes everything got to much and he would run to the place where him and the other colonies hung out (and partially lived-)

England had Connecticut as a first attempt, and he failed miserably. Connecticut was too damn stubborn to allow himself to me morphed into what England wanted him to be, and was much more interested in books and boats and boat work, and Connie would spend most of his time around the sea, wishing he could be like the pirates and merchants that came and went. He barely spent enough time at home for England to do much other than yell at him and tell him how stupid his interests were and tell him that he was never gonna achieve anything in life (Parents, NEVER DO THIS IT WILL FVCK UP YOUR CHILD SO BADLY-)

Gov was already happy with being the one to kill England, but was even more happy when he found out how horrible England was. And he definitely showed that same smile he showed that day. PA was having flashbacks to that day but he stayed silent cuz of how terrifying it was 😭😭

[annarts05]

What if your story is predictable?

You’re writing a story, and you feel like it’s predictable. Like the readers can guess the ending before they’re halfway through. Or that twist in the middle? Nah, not a twist if they see it coming, right?

Okay, let’s analyze this. First things first. 

Ask yourself if it really is predictable, and do you have concrete evidence of that?

It might just feel predictable to you because you know how it ends, and you’ve scrutinized your work to the point your brain might explode. 

If you’re writing a cheesy romance akin to a Hallmark Christmas movie, then I think we all know the ending from the start. And yet, people still watch them...food for thought. 

Which is an important idea.

It’s not all about how the story ends; it’s about the journey to the ending.

People typically fall back on comfort and familiarity when they feel stressed. It’s safe, warm, fills them with fuzzy feelings. If a story is easily guessable, it follows those well-worn grooves and the readers can sense how the story will end without even really thinking about it. 

But even those who spoil books/movies for themselves will still watch or read it because they want to find out how the characters got to the end.

What obstacles did they crash into on the way? How many sweet moments did my two favorite characters share? Were any stomach-turning, heart-wrenching secrets revealed?

Unpredictable doesn’t always mean better. It has to make sense. 

What’s the point of adding plot twists if it annoys or confuses the reader? Don’t do it unless it’ll add something to the story, and compliment existing plot points, characters, and themes. It has to make sense, progress the plot, and/or change something in a character (part of their arc).

If the readers guess the plot twist, it simply means you lay the groundwork correctly. 

You followed the grooves. You hid the correct hints or did the math and got an A. It’s making sense. Why wouldn’t the reader think that’s what’s coming next? Is it not the most logical conclusion?

There’s nothing wrong with the tried-and-true and common tropes. There’s also nothing wrong with being creative and utilizing funky elements of your story to make something unique, as long as it all makes sense.

[pocketramblr]

Ask game where izuku time travel and somehows saves hawks which leads for massive hero worship of him

1- izuku is yeeted backwards through time and crashes outside the shanty Tomie and Keigo lived in. Tomie hides and, curious, Keigo peaks outside to see a darkly costumed hero in a torn cape and cowl sparking lightning and spasming bits of darkness. he thinks that is very cool but also probably dangerous, ready to fly off.

Izuku, who looks around and has no idea where he is, sees the shack and heads closer to try and see if anyone is there and can tell him where he is

2- Tomie freaks and grabs Keigo to run, but Izuku is able to pretty easily catch up and pull out his hero license, apologizing for the scare and getting halfway through asking where he is when he stops because either Hawks has a secret lovechild that Shoto and Fumikage are going to go crazy about, or, this kid is just Hawks. which means he's time traveled. And he knows exactly what's going to go down, how the commission botches the war arc, leading him directly to the runnaway arc he was in the middle of- not to mention Keigo is like, six years old right now and looks just like all the other small kids Izuku's helped before.

3- Izuku is like "Hey, actually, can i like, buy you some food? or we can go to a safehouse? from your villain husband/father that i know about?" and that spooks Tomie enough that she tells Keigo to fly away as fast as he can, but he comes back in under a minute to help her, only to see Izuku letting her go back inside the house, and muttering to himself about how to help them.

He could try to hunt down All Might, but he doesn't know if his number is the same this far back, or the ramifications of dealing with time, or if Gran Torino will believe him, or if his teacher has even started at UA at this point, and Keigo lands and says he sounds like he knows a lot of heroes.

Danger Sense didn't warn Izuku and he's startled, but nods, saying the problem is a lot of them don't know him yet.

4- Izuku thinks about it for a while with the vestiges as he takes Keigo into town and brings food back to the home for dinner, figuring out what he should do because none of them know what to do about time travel. Eventually, he decides to take Third's advice- he doesn't know any heroes that will believe him or can risk causing a paradox with, but he does know a hero he can blackmail whose life choices he probably can't make any worse.

To say that Endeavor is surprised when some stranger waving a hero license in the air and carrying two civilians with his quirk lands in his front yard is an understatement.

5- Izuku gets Enji to talk with him in his office while he shoves Tomie and Keigo at Rei and the three todokids, telling him everything- that he's from the future, that he can prove it with a lot of information that he really shouldn't have and a very legit license from the future, and that if Izuku is about right about when he time traveled, Rei is very recently pregnant with Shoto so Enji better get it together before Touya tries to kill the infant threatening to replace him as central piece in the mini eugenics experiment he decided to run. He tells him off for caring about the ranking system more than the reason heroes exist, warns him that he should probably see if he can stop the commission from training the kid they currently are training to be their super illegal and immoral assassin before she snaps and kills the president, and then decides 'oh what the hell, predictions of death have been great motivators in mine and All Might's experience!' and tells Enji that unless he wants to be killed by a quirk affected Shoto minutes after killing Touya, he'll prevent that future by changing things right now.

Izuku leaves the office with a stunned Enji and announces that Endeavor oh so kindly offered to make sure that Tomie and Keigo have safe housing and food. He ruffles Keigo's hair, tells him that he should be proud of working so hard to improve his quirk so quickly that he's practically faster than Izuku, who was so bad with his quirk originally that it was out of control and broke his own bones, recommends Touya look into Sheild Industries for support tech, waves at a shy Fuyumi, and then slips the kids a phone number for absolute emergencies with the passcode 'one for all' written on it. Then he leaves.

Keigo watches him go and announces that he must be the greatest hero ever, and Keigo is going to be just like him one day.

Touya takes offense since obviously Endeavor is the greatest hero and then Touya will be. Keigo looks at the still stunned Enji, then back at the very cool multi quirk silhouette, and decides that Touya's tastes cannot be trusted.

+1- Several years later, Endeavor watches the sports festival and pulls out his phone, calling Touya and only saying "no" because he knows that Touya is also watching and seeing the bone breaking kid who looks just like the hero from ages ago. Touya protests that he didn't want the kid for internships anyway, just thought he must be that old heroe's son. Enji goes 'nah, it's him, before he time traveled' and does not elaborate even as Touya asks if he's joking. Keigo is already filing the paperwork for the internship, and says he already knew that, because Izuku muttered a lot- but he's not going to let him vanish without a word this time! not to mention, his agency is going to be the one to make the first official merch that Keigo has been dying to collect for over a decade now. Touya questions Keigo's tastes, and Izuku ends up picking another agency.

[billywhoringrove]

Billy and Steve have been flirting for months. Finally, through a fumbling awkward conversation they officially plan a first date. 

Who could have predicted it would be the worst first date in history.

Steve’s first mistake was making a reservation at a fancy steak house because he wanted to impress his date. Only Billy feels so out of place he accidentally dumps the entire pitcher of water on Steve’s lap 5 minutes after sitting. Which leads to Billy basically fondling Steve trying to get him dry. They get kicked out… 

Trying to save the night Billy suggests the Taco truck across the street. Tells Steve he has never lived till he tries real Mexican food. Billy didn’t know when Steve said make sure it’s not spicy, he meant make sure it doesn’t even have a speck of black pepper in it. Steve throws up in the closest trash can. Twice.

Destined to save the date Steve decides they can go see a movie. He didn’t know the only show playing was Mommie Dearest and he definitely didn’t realize till halfway through what the movie was about. He catches on quickly when Billy gets up and leaves the theater. 

Billy is overwhelmed with guilt, all he wanted was Steve to be happy and he is currently blowing his one chance with the Pretty Boy. So, he suggests they go ice skating knowing Steve loves it. However, Billy may have overestimated how similar roller-skating is to ice skating. They make it exactly 19 minutes in the rink which doubles the time they spent in ambulance to get to the hospital after Billy crashes into Steve.

In the end they order pizza to the parking lot of the emergency room and sit on the hood of Billy’s car. Billy tells Steve that the stitches make him look tough and will do wonders for his King Steve rep. Steve explains all the constellations in the sky or at least attempts to. Billy never corrects him because he thinks it is adorable when Steve mixes up the Orion with the Little Dipper. It is the most memorable and happiest night of their lives.

Their next date can only be an improvement from this one.  

[frickfrackapplesnack]

Cold hearted Love Part 2

A/N: This is part 2 to Cold Hearted Love, I hope you all enjoy it. Requested by: Anonymous Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of sex, swearing, Blood & Gore Word Count: 2719 Also slightly OOC Chishiya

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It's impossible to predict how much a bullet will hurt until it hits you. You can watch as many movies as you want, and witness people being shot and dying. But you have no idea how bad it hurts until that bullet collides with your skin and more blood than you thought you had starts pouring out of you. When Y/N felt the bullet strike her body, she assumed that death would be the next step, that the pain and blood would inevitably transport her from this world to the next. She couldn't say she blamed anyone for leaving her to die. She would leave too if one of her teammates had been shot, staying behind could get you killed. And no one here wanted to die, they all wanted to return to the real world, to their families. If one of her teammates was shot, she would leave as well; staying behind could result in death. And no one here wanted to die; they all wanted to get back to their families and the real world. That opportunity would never come to Y/N. The game was held at the Tokyo Sky Tree, which is located quite far from the Beach. They'd driven there a few hours before, and y/n knew that even if the gunshot wound didn't kill her, she'd die before she got halfway back to the Beach on foot. The game was a scavenger hunt in which each player had to find five objects in twenty minutes. There were no other dangers besides a laser to the head if you failed to find all five objects. Y/N had been doing well, having found 4 out of five objects when she bumped into a very stressed Niragi, he had only found 3 items and the game had only 10 minutes remaining.

He had demanded y/n give him her objects so he could get out and when she refused, he shot her, taking two objects from her completing his collection and clearing the game. Now you may be wondering how y/n had lived after the timer went off, in her adrenaline filed state y/n had managed to find the number of objects she needed to clear the game, with only thirty seconds remaining. She had finished the game and was now lying on the floor, unsure why she had continued. It was pointless; she'd been shot and was bleeding profusely. But the prospect of being killed by one of those lasers terrified her more than the prospect of dying slowly and painfully. Maybe she was hoping to make it back, that if she cleared the game, she'd be able to drive back with the others and be treated by Ann. But by the time she got to the bottom floor, everyone had already left. Y/N was doomed from the start. She'd never see her friends again, and she'd never get the chance to return home and see her family. In this fucked up world, she would perish. She heard hurried footsteps approaching her, perhaps a guardian to take her into the next life, as her vision began to blur and her mind fell silent. If that's the case, why was her Guardian dressed like Chishiya? It had the same white hair and dark eyes as he did, and spoke in the same manner. The Guardian Chishiya lookalike was crying, and its mouth was overflowing with jumbled words. Only a few weeks ago, a mouth y/n had been addicted to.

“Chishiya…” she mumbled, reaching toward the look-a- likes face, a bloodied sob escaping her chest. The guardian began to speak, using Chishiya’s voice, but y/n couldn’t quiet pick up on what it was saying. But before her mind shut off and her vision blackened, she hears him say:

“Y/N…I’m sorry”

To say Chishiya had gone insane was an understatement. He had been running around for the past 30 minutes gathering medical supplies and shoving the into a bag. He had stolen keys to one of the Cars that belonged to the Beach and had dragged Kuina from her spot at the bar to be his driving buddy to make sure he didn’t crash on the way due to his erratic behaviour.

“Chishiya she’s dead.” Kuina said, as she watched Chishiya pack his things into the back of the car. “There is no point on going after her.” She argued, crossing her arms to protect herself from the cold night air. A bikini wasn’t the best bit of clothing to keep you warm.

“For someone who claims to be her friend, you sure don’t seem to give a shit.” Chishiya scoffed checking his bag for what seemed like the hundredth time, making sure he had everything. Bandages, alcohol, needles…

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Kuina laughed. “You don’t care about her.”

“I do-“

“You don’t, you don’t think she told me everything?” Kuina asked. “The lack of sex or any kind of physical affection, oh and the notebook” That fucking notebook was going to be the death of him. Of, course y/n had told Kuina everything, the two were practically joined at the hip. She wasn’t going to believe him if he told her that he loved y/n, that he had stopped showing her affection when his heart would race every time, he was near her, when the only way he could sleep at night is if she was there. And she certainly wasn’t going to believe him if he told her that the moment, he realised his feelings that every single one of the plans in the notebook involving y/n had become redundant.

“I’m not going to waste my time explain myself to you, but I have to find her because if she is by some fucked up miracle alive…I have to save her.” He sighed. “It’s for my own selfish reasons, I need to apologise, I can’t let her die without her knowing how I really feel…”

“If she is alive, do you really want to hurt her like that?” Kuina asked. “By telling her you love her, after everything that you’ve put her through? It’s just going to confuse her.”

“I know, but I have to try.” Chishiya replied, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Are you coming with me or not?” he asked Kuina. She nodded, getting into the passenger seat, doing up her seatbelt.

“Do you even know where her game was?” she asked. Chishiya looked over at her with a look that said, ‘I’m not stupid’. The first thing he had done was demand the other players in her game to tell him where the game had been located.  They had told him where it was, what the rules where, and what would happen if you didn’t complete the game. The chances of her survival where low, but when someone had mentioned hearing a gunshot his interest peeked.

“Last I checked she was with Niragi, then I heard gunfire…” They had said, that was particularly interesting. Chishiya had no doubt that Niragi had done something to her, to benefit himself and win the game. And it disgusted him how his ways of thinking were not so different to those of the trigger-happy militant.

It took them about half an hour to get to the Tokyo Sky Tree. Chishiya saw no need to follow the speed limit as it had become redundant the instant everyone disappeared. So, it didn’t take as long to get around the city. Once they had arrived Chishiya told Kuina to wait in the car, not wanting her to see her best friend most likely dead. He grabbed the bag of medical supplies and ran inside, screaming y/n’s name. When he saw her laying there, in the middle of the lobby he froze. There was blood everywhere and she didn’t look to be breathing. Snapping himself out of his frozen state he rushed over to her, falling to his knees by her side. Analysing her for injuries he saw the gunshot wound in her shoulder bleeding profusely. Checking her for a pulse, he found one and although light that meant that she was alive. There was hope.

“Y/N can you hear me?” he asked, softly tapping the side of her face, her eyes fluttered slightly, and he swore he could see the hint of a smile pulling at her pale chapped lips. Slowly he flipped her to her side, checking for an exit wound in her shoulder. There was none, which was a good sign, he could try and stop the bleeding long enough to get her back to the beach. But she had lost so much already. He placed her back onto the floor and noticed that she had paced out. He checked for a pulse again, relieved it was still there while he went to work. First, he grabbed the alcohol and poured it over the wound, praying to whatever god was out there that she wasn’t awake to feel the pain, and that her bikini top had made it so easy to get to the wound. After he grabbed the needle and thread, if he could close the wound, she stood a better chance at making it to Ann, who could heal her wounds properly. At one point she had woken up and called out his name, obviously recognising him, but passed out again soon after. He readied the needle, praying the pain would not wake her.

“Y/N…I’m sorry” he winced as he pushed the needle through her bloodied skin.

Her skin was easier to push the needle through than he liked, each pull of the thread splashing blood onto his hands. Once that was done, he wrapped the wound tightly and carried her back to the car where Kuina helped him place her into the back seat.

“Kuina, I need you to sit back there with her, check her pulse every few minutes. If you can find it at any point, I’ll pull over and perform CPR.” He explained, getting into the drivers seat, starting the engine.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Kuina asked, placing y/n’s head in her lap, stroking her friends hair.

“I went to med school,” Chishiya replied. “Now stop asking questions and keep her alive!”

Y/N awoke cold and stiff as a corpse.  Which was understandable given the fact that she was almost certainly dead. She hadn't expected the afterlife to resemble Ann's makeshift lab at the Beach when she opened her eyes. Y/N had expected something akin to endless fields and a clear blue sky. A forensics lab that isn't cold and damp. This could be the afterlife; the place was eerily real and reeked of death. It was exactly the same as she remembered. Everything was too perfect and disgusting to be the afterlife. How had she gotten here in the first place? She pondered as she craned her neck to scan the space. Niragi shooting her was the last thing she remembered, and then nothing. How had she made it through the game? Y/N attempted to sit up, but the extreme pain in her shoulder prevented her from doing so. She hissed and slumped against the cool table she'd been laying on. Getting shot fucking hurts. Someone groaning beside her caught her attention, immediately recognising the white-haired man beside her, his head laying against the metal table, sound asleep. It was a rare moment when anyone could catch Chishiya in such a vulnerable state, Y/N being lucky enough to witness more than a few. Including this moment right now.

His cheeks were a light shade of pink, and his white hair covered half of his face, but y/n could still see that his mouth was open, and drool was pooling on the table. Chishiya was completely out of it, and y/n wished she'd brought a camera with her, a laugh escaping her. His eyes fluttering open slowly as he lifts his head from the table, brushing his hair away from his face, it appeared that her laughter had jolted him awake. Y/N forgot why she had been so angry with him before the game because he looked so adorable. How could she ever be mad with someone so cute. Her giggles continued, as rubbed his eyes like a child.

Chishiya froze at the melodic sound, slowly turning to look at the girl on the table, who had been asleep for the past 3 days, sighing in relief as he watched her laugh. “Thank God you’re awake.” He said, grasping her hand. Y/N giggles ceased at the sudden contact, Chishiya pulling his hand away fearing he had hurt her. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you.” Y/N shook her head, turning her head away from him. “Y/N?”

“How did I get here?” she asked, not looking at him.

“Kuina and I came to get you, we were told you were dead, but I needed to make sure.” Chishiya answered. Y/N scoffed; she could remember now why she had been so upset with him. She remembered the notebook, she remembered how cold he had been toward her, and she remembered ending things with him. She may have been shot, and he may have been an adorable sleeper. But her mind was not dead, she remembered everything.

“Was it because if I was dead then I would ruin your plan to steal the cards?” Y/N asked, turning back to glare at him.

“Fuck.” Chishiya scoffed. “No y/n don’t be so naïve! I went after you because I care about you, I didn’t want you to die without knowing that.” He explained, reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling out the tiny notebook that had been the cause of so much heartache. He could see y/n’s eyes darken at the sight of it. “I was waiting for you to wake up,” he started, “It’s been three days and I was starting to lose hope…you lost so much blood.” A flash of a memory appeared in Y/N’s mind, it was of Chishiya leaning over her, blood covering his favourite white hoodie.

“You saved me…” Y/N said, “You were really there…”

“Mhm…Anyway…” Chishiya muttered. “I’m sorry about your shoulder, you’ll probably have a bad scar. The stitches I gave you were rushed.” He explained, “Anyway…” he began taking a lighter out of his other jacket pocket.

“Wait…you know how to do stitches?” Y/N asked.

“Yes, I was training to be a doctor before-“

“You went to med school!? How could you never tell me this?”

“Well-“

“What else did you not tell me?” Y/N asked, her anger flaring.

“Y/N can you shut up for one second I’m trying to be romantic and you’re ruining it.” Chishiya snapped, y/n stopped talking, mumbling a small apology before Chishiya continued holding up the small notebook. “I regret ever involving you in my plans, the truth is I wanted to use your feelings against you. For my own advantage. I spent time with you, I slept with you…and I didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but I did. And I got scared so I distanced myself to keep you safe.” He sighed. “Every plan involving you became redundant the moment I realised my feelings for you and so…to prove it” he said, holding the lighter under the notebook. “I’ll burn this stupid fucking book.” With that, the lighter was turned on and the book began to burn, Chishiya throwing into an empty bucket nearby. “I don’t expect you to forgive me…” He said, “But I couldn’t let you die.”

“Kiss me..” Y/N mumbled.

“What?”

“I said kiss me you idiot!” Y/N laughed. Chishiya waisted no time, leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips. Not all had been forgiven, there was a lot of talking that still needed to happen for both of them to heal and allow Y/N to fully trust him again. But he had saved her and shown his love for her by burning that stupid book. That deserved a kiss.

Little did the two know that Kuina had been watching them, a small smile on her face. She knew that Y/N had changed Chishiya for the better, and Chishiya had changed her. There were no means perfect for each other, but their love was true.

They would protect each other no matter what.

As for Chishiya, he would never lie to Y/N ever again.

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝the garrison rat❞ CHP 5

CHAPTER FIVE

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summary: torn apart by an unexpected loss, you find yourself unable to leave birmingham. you’re aware that people notice you drinking in the garrison every other night, you’re aware they call you nicknames, but you don’t care about any of it— at least, not until you start speaking to john shelby. he’s looking for a wife and you vowed to never love again, which makes things a bit complicated.

warnings: a graphic birth scene, an abundance of swearing, alcohol, period misogyny, destructive anger, angst and panic attacks, but don’t worry there’s a lot of fluff :)

word count: 2.5k

tag list: @datewithgianni @1950schick @clementinesjourney @cbouvier23 @smailaway @cedricscoffin @buckysjuicyplums @belledawnidk

a/n: “the 555 angel number’s meaning is that significant change is imminent. change is a part of life, and when we see the number 555, something is telling you that a transition is in play in your life and all around you.”

//////

When the door first swung shut behind John, there was silence for several seconds. The calm before the storm, you could already tell. You stood in the kitchen of your apartment, glittering engagement ring on your finger, not quite sure what to do.

Then, quite predictably, a new wave of anger surged through you, lighting your nerves on fire, and you howled, a loud, desperate sound.

Your hands flew to your head and you grasped at your own hair, screaming and tugging, needing to hurt something, even yourself.

The whiskey bottle was on the counter and it was so fucking easy: you chucked the stopper elsewhere and gulped the damn thing whole, not caring for the liquid slopping out and staining your shirt.

As soon as it was empty, you lobbed it at the wall, where it exploded in a shower of glass.

Just to feel the rush, you screamed again, filled with anguish.

Anything. Fucking anything.

Fluid as a tornado, you ripped open your cabinets and flung the contents across the room: mugs, bowls, cups and wine glasses landed and shattered with a loud CRASH, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Fuck!”

It was the type of cold loneliness that pulsed through your chest— the fact that it was happening again. Again. The one thing you swore to avoid.

You’d never be able to escape this fucking town.

//////

The engagement party was more like a battle planning party, and time passed miserably. You were sulking in the corner for most of it, hiding a flask of moonshine between the tablecloth and the lilac folds of your dress. Sour-smelling candles burned slowly, there was fast conversation in the Romani language, and halfway across the yard, John was smoking a cigar and waving his hands around.

So much for trying to quit.

Esme Lee was the only person who sat at your table, and you didn’t have the nerve to ask her about it, but you were pretty sure she was high. Even though she had miraculously bothered to put shoes on for the occasion— surprisingly shiny boots made of dark leather— she smelled like grass and dirt and something that made you think of horses, and horses in Birmingham made you think of mischief.

Also, though it could’ve just been the candlelight, you could’ve sworn the whites of her eyes were red, and she was acting more dazed than usual.

Halfway across the yard, Zilpha Lee averted her eyes for the smallest second— a dark-haired, heavily pregnant woman looked to be drunk and attempting to dance— and while the matriarch was distracted, you quickly raised the flask of moonshine to your lips and drank.

When she looked back at you, the flask was already back underneath the tablecloth, and you forced yourself not to flinch at the burning feeling travelling down your throat.

You sighed as Tommy Shelby moved forward, seemingly to stop the woman from dancing, and she started screaming at him.

People were arguing at your engagement party, Esme was high, and now you were staggering towards drunk. Splendid.

“The fuck’s going on over there?” Esme muttered.

You tried to squint— people were crowding around the pregnant woman. “Dunno.”

“Holy shit!” Esme cried suddenly, leaping out of her seat. “Not fucking now!”

You rose out of your seat more hesitantly: the moonshine was clouding your head. “What’s going on?”

“She’s-”

Esme made an incoherent hand gesture, saw your confusion, gave up, and grabbed you by the hand. “Look!”

“Water!” John’s aunt Polly was yelling. “Holy shit, there’s water, everybody clear out-”

“Water?” you repeated dumbly, incredibly slow on the uptake.

“Her water’s just broke, you fucking moron, she’s pregnant,” Esme said. “C’mon, we have to go-”

You were stalling, scanning the ground for a safe place to put the moonshine. “But I’m not a nurse!”

“It’s women’s business, we have to go!” she shouted over you.

“How many births have you seen?” you yelled desperately as she started running towards the pregnant woman being ushered away.

She didn’t answer.

“Fuck you, Esme Lee!” you shouted as she disappeared into the crowd.

“Y/N!” someone called, and you whipped around.

John Shelby was behind you, looking as surly as ever. “You gotta fuckin’ come.”

“Last time I checked, no I fucking don’t,” you shot back.

John didn’t seem to be in the mood to argue. “You heard her, women’s business, let’s go.”

//////

The pregnant woman was John’s sister, you quickly learned, and she was making some of the ugliest noises you’d ever heard in your life.

Being present at a birth was no doubt a disgusting scene. Everyone other than you seemed to know what to do— John’s aunt Polly was rubbing Ada’s back, chanting encouraging words to her and the room at large, Esme was pacing around the room, folding and unfolding towels, checking and rechecking the number of blankets and pillows and diapers on hand, waving her hands around and cursing loudly in Romani every time people passed through the room, relaying information.

And you?

You tried to hide your cringe every time Ada shrieked and keened and wailed, and Esme had forced you to help clean up the fluid flowing out of her that she’d dubbed “baby juice”.

You couldn’t understand what kept them so calm. That horrible feeling was rippling through your chest again, the one that signalled the start of the panic attack, and you were wrestling with it desperately, cursing all of your life’s decisions for bringing you here. Panic rendered you useless and you knew it.

“Right now, that’s it Ada dear,” Polly was chanting. The racket Ada was making was nearly deafening. “Keep pushing now - almost there-”

“Fucking hell,” Esme mumbled to no one in particular, making a face.

“That’s the head!” Polly shouted over her, looking around wildly— your stomach sank when she locked eyes with you. “Y/N, fetch those towels!”

BANGBANGBANG!

“Is that fuckin’ Freddie?” Ada screamed over the racket, trying to sit up to look at the door, but Polly pushed her down again. “Focus, Ada!”

“I think I’m going to be ill,” you tried to say over the cacophony, but Esme was cursing louder than anyone.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” she said, and as you caught sight of what was happening between Ada’s legs, you gagged and forced a hand over your mouth.

Then a lot of things happened at once.

“Holy shit!” Esme hissed, wailing filled the room, Polly cursed very loudly, and the door flew open with a resounding THUD.

“Ada!” an unfamiliar man yelped, but you’d already ducked out of the room to vomit.

You couldn’t help it: you were thinking of Paris again. You couldn’t believe this was expected from you, one day.

One blink and you were back to early November last year.

You had been waiting on another one of Sam’s letters— despite the constant cold and hunger and bitter, unflinching silence that came when you were a lone childless wife in a cheap apartment, you waited. You waited, for the love of all things good and holy, you waited for either him or the letters to come back to you.

You believed the emotion you were experiencing was anguish.

The letters, which always came in Sam’s thin, careful, sloping script, were often the best part of a period where the rations got smaller and smaller with each delivery. However, like the rations, the letters were getting less and less frequent as the war worsened, and Sam was scaring you with his descriptions of the trenches. Maggots and sweat and lice and days without sleep, all in the name of patriotism. It seemed backward to you.

You’d been reading the paper, though, slowly getting accustomed to how the people in New York behaved. As far as you knew, the people of New York prayed dutifully, blessed with knowledge from above that the men would come home safe.

Before Sam had enlisted, he’d promised to take you to his cousin’s unoccupied apartment in the heart of Paris, and you’d conceive children in the City of Love. It was a promise he continuously referenced in his letters.

Five children, you’d decided. Five was his lucky number, you see. He was on his fifth cigarette when he met you at that dive bar, and something like the fifth blues song was playing. There were five bracelets on each of your wrists, the bracelets your mom had given you for your eighteenth birthday, and you’d woken up with five bruises on your neck the following morning. It had to be fate.

The longer you waited, the more your golden days seemed imaginary. It was November 11th, 1918, and your lover had been away from you for years now.

You remembered that morning clearly. You woke up late— sometime around eleven— and went outside on the balcony to light a cigarette. You were confused when there was screaming in the streets. Church bells were ringing. People were dancing.

“It’s over,” they cried, “It’s over.”

Your mouth fell agape, foolishly.

Was Sam finally coming home?

The cold, hard truth: he wasn’t.

Reality came back jarringly and suddenly: you were retching into a basin, your throat was raw, and you were hyperventilating yourself to the point of a panic attack.

You slumped over and clenched your eyes shut, clutching your stomach. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

BANGBANGBANG!

You couldn’t breathe, not when someone was banging on the door. Loudly.

BANGBANGBANG!

“Y/N? You alright? Would you like to see the baby?”

It was Esme.

“Coming!” you choked out: you pressed a hand to your forehead. Your palm was sweaty and damp.

“Uh, well, I’m going out to the Garrison, if you wanna come by later for a drink,” she called back.

“Give me a fuckin’ minute,” you groaned.

After you heard Esme’s dark leather boots clunking away from the door, you got up once more and turned on the faucet.

You ran your hands under it, splashed your face, then reached for the soap. Five pumps, a bit unnecessary, but still, you lathered until you felt your breathing steady.

You can do this.

You surveyed yourself in your mirror. Your eyelashes were wet and glossy with tears, the whites of your eyes were scarlet from crying, and your cheeks were unnaturally puffy and red. Not only did you look pathetic, you looked ill.

You’d definitely feel better after a drink.

You smiled weakly at your reflection to make yourself feel better, then turned on your heel and left the bathroom.

“How’s the baby?” you asked as the door swung shut behind you. Ada was rocking a small bundle of blankets.

“He’s beautiful,” she replied, looking up at you.

“I’m Y/N,” you told her awkwardly, indicating your engagement ring. “John’s girl. Dunno if I ever told you that.”

John’s girl. You tried to ignore the title.

Ada bobbed her head. “I know.”

“I’m gonna go out for a drink,” you told her. “Be safe. And congratulations, alright?”

She smiled— a delicate curving of her lips. “Thank you.”

With that, you pulled your coat over that lilac dress and went out in search of the Garrison.

//////

“Oh, here she is, here she fuckin’ is,” Arthur said the moment you stepped into the Garrison, stretching his arms out wide as though to embrace a horde of people, “The fuckin’ queen of the land, get her a round of drinks now…”

“Uh, what?” you tried to say, but John had already come out of nowhere and wrapped you into a hug. He smelled like beer and tobacco.

“He’s drunk, don’t question it,” he mumbled into your ear.

“Will that be Irish, then?” Grace called to you over the drunk ramblings of the Blinders.

“Sure, yeah,” you replied distractedly, already shrugging your coat off your shoulders. “Where’s Esme?”

“Dunno, she was with one of the Blinders last I checked,” John replied merrily. “How’s the baby?”

You were a bit taken aback by his sudden display of affection. “He’s lovely, as far as I know.”

John all but grinned. “Fuckin’ great.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he led you over to the bar. “What’s got you so happy tonight?”

“What doesn’t?” he shot back, indicating the atmosphere of the Garrison: people chatting merrily, getting drunk, laughing about horses and newborns. “We’ve got drinks, cigarettes, a new nephew, I’m gonna marry a pretty girl in a couple weeks’ time…”

Your face flushed, but you didn’t say anything.

“Look at Tommy, he’s fuckin’ smiling,” John said, nudging you in the ribs, and you turned around to look across the room. “When’s the last time you’ve seen him smile, eh?”

“You’re gonna fuckin’ jinx it,” you laughed back at him as Grace slid you a whiskey.

“Life’s good, Y/N,” he said, and when he looked at you, his eyes burned a fierce blue. “Life’s good.”

There was a beat: you’d noticed his hand had magically appeared on the bar.

For the first time, it wasn’t about having nerve: you simply reached over and enclosed your hand in his.

When you squeezed, John squeezed back. It felt good.

“Is that the fuckin’ Lee girl?” he exclaimed suddenly, twisting sideways on the stool.

You looked: sure enough, in a booth across the room, Esme was locked in a passionate, clearly whiskey-drunk kiss with a Blinder you didn’t recognize.

“Get a room, lads, get a room,” Arthur was saying, tossing his cap in their direction.

You had to stifle a laugh. “Good for her.”

BANG!

Everyone startled: Polly Gray had flung open the doors of the Garrison, and instantly you knew something was wrong.

“What’s the matter-?” you tried to say, but she’d already lunged forward and struck Tommy Shelby across the face.

There was a rush of bodies and John had suddenly disappeared from your side: he, along with Arthur, had gone to restrain her.

“The police came and took his father away!” Polly snarled, and with a huff, she spat on the ground. “You liar.”

There was silence as she untangled herself from John and Arthur, and as quickly as she came, she stalked out.

Across the room, Esme pulled away from the Blinder with a loud POP. “The fuck was that?”

“I need to go,” Tommy said immediately.

“You can’t do that, we were having a good time,” Arthur shot back.

“Lads, no one wants a fuckin’ argument,” John cut in.

Tommy lost his patience. “Freddie’s in fuckin’ custody, John boy!”

Halfway across the room, you exchanged a worried look with Esme.

Your place? she mouthed, already dismounting from the Blinder.

You nodded and got up from the bar.

“For the drinks,” you said, sliding money over the counter.

“That’s more than enough,” Grace started to say, but you’d already started for the front doors.