#woulda been worth the risk

[84reedsy]

But like... how many watermelons could those gams just obliterate

[extraterrestrialechos]

I have watched Episode 8 possibly more than any other episode and it's so vital what Jack's saying and what he thinks he's doing, which is completely centered around pointing out Stede's from outside their world and pointing out Ed he's wallowing in unsustainable excess.

Jack: Just for the two of you, huh? Hornigold'd shit himself.

Jack: That's a real pirate! Not like one of these store-bought types.

We're soon provided the information Jack genuinely believes he's been acting with Ed's full support and consent since back at the dramatics on deck.

Jack fully believes he shook Ed out of whatever weird, seemingly uncharacteristic funk Ed has gotten into.

Jack: Best thing that could've happened to you, if you ask me. Like when I heard that you'd shacked up with him, I said... Ed: Where'd you hear that? You didn't just happen upon us, did you, Jack? Jack: Took you long enough. The old Blackbeard woulda seen me comin' a mile away.

Jack: I figured you were on to me when I lured you to Blind Man's Cove, seeing as its distinguishing feature is that... Ed: It's impossible to make an escape.

Ed, otoh, had a good reason to want to show Jack, who he cared about, they could both be a part of Stede’s love in — he wanted to believe that there was room for Jack in muppet land, and a different future for both of them than they’d ever imagined.

That was so far from Jack’s reality he never conceived it was happening and believed they were co-conspirators in a completely different series of events from the one Ed was living.

Chauncey makes a similar point to Jack's in the next episode:

Chauncey: I'm afraid the offer doesn't extend to you, Bonnet. After all, the King was only referring to real pirates. He's from my world, not yours.

That Stede isn't part of the fabric of that world is pivotal to the thrust of the thing, because it's not just about Ed and Stede. The crew, who Oluwande assured in the first episode would come to kill Stede next if he didn't say he killed Nigel on purpose, and who'd all just reassured Jack would probably still mutiny on Stede in the future, decide at this moment that Stede, admittedly a work in progress, is worth standing up for.

And shortly after, Ed chooses to give up everything he's worked so hard his whole life for, a career and huge prestige and "more riches than you can shake a fucking stick at," to go into an unknown, barefaced future with Stede.

Despite Jack not believing Ed would throw away what he built from nothing, what they were stabbed and ground down to nothing and treated like dogs for a chance to aspire to, despite that Episode 8 exists to let Ed see the risk he's taking.

Throughout, Izzy builds up reminders of the bonds he forged with crewmen who believe in the him he chose to show them that he has to choose to separate from:

Ed: No, Izzy, we're not doing this. Izzy: No, you're not doin' this, so I must.

Izzy: Remember though, you said when you made me first mate, "Above all else is loyalty to your Captain." You're my captain, and I was never gonna stand by and let you destroy yourself for that... twat.

Izzy fully believes throughout he is doing what Ed (who at the start of this had repeatedly, disturbingly expressed suicidal ideation in Episode 4 leaving us with two long shots of Izzy standing stunned and shaken after he walks out) pledged him to do. To hold the outfit together and keep Ed's reputation secure.

There's nothing nefarious about the sad henchman sitting in prolonged denial.

Izzy: The plan is very much alive. He promised me.

But Fang and Ivan have now seen through the thing, too, and so they remind Ed of the sacrifices they've made to be a part of this outfit the three together. And still Izzy is careful not to speak in front of them when he offers to help secure their normal,

Izzy: I'll happily end it.

We can assume here, and when Ed couldn't do it and Izzy steps in, that what Izzy knows after all these years is Ed doesn't kill people face to face. How many other people has he dispatched to shore up the occasional slack for the continued honor of sailing with the most brilliant sailor he's ever met?

It is my strong opinion that diminishing these character’s belief in the Ed they’ve known for years and the loyalty they display diminishes the enormity of the choices we see Ed make and risks he taking putting his life and heart in Stede’s hands.

These are men he chose to forge bonds with through his own actions, and the resistance to change they put up comes out of having traveled well worn paths with the Ed who made himself king of the ocean who is suddenly exhibiting erratic and, to them, totally unprecedented behavior.

Ed returns to an Izzy whose faith is at last broken, and swiftly and expertly resecures his place of power. Even devastated himself that his start at a different life a part of him privately yearned for left him so completely bereft.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda (Part 2)

a/n: I’m terribly sorry this is late but it’s been a busy week. Please forgive me. Currently finishing up part 3!  Warning; this is angstyyyyyyyy

Joel Miller x Reader 

Word Count: 2186

PART 1         Masterlist 

-------------------------------------------

Awkward tension disseminated the stifling space they found themselves trapped in. Ellie and Y/N’s attention darted to the cranky man, an element of surprise sneaking up on both.

Y/N fidgeted nervously picking at the hardened callus adorning her right palm. Her cheeks flared to life nearly unmissable to the common eye, but Joel? No, not a day passed he didn’t linger a second longer than appropriate. Shit, he practically lived for an accidental touch of the shoulder or brush of the leg. Joel was in stuck in hell and acutely aware of the angel and demon at war. Y/N was magnificent and he sure as hell didn’t…doesn’t say it enough.

Hastier than usual, Y/N grabbed her backpack with expert speed sprinting out the door towards freedom. She flew like a bat outta hell. Sunlight danced across her face. The warmth a welcoming distraction. Y/N gulped an anxious breath quelling her jitters. Whether by choice or not…she was fate’s bitch again.

Ellie’s hands waved maddeningly trying to nab Joel’s attention but the cowboy stood frozen transfixed by the last five minutes.

“Uh, earth to Joel?!”

Reality snapped back in place as Joel stared at the proud youngster. An aggravated grunt was all he mustered walking towards the door and out of this shithole. Ellie trailed behind.

The trio journeyed further down the path the wilted map laid out, one step closer to Wyoming, to a new beginning. Eager to break the discomfort, Ellie reached for her book. Anything was better than nothing, right? El thought so.

“Hey, I got a new one for you guys.”

The pages whipped in the wind forcing her to lose track of the current page.

“Any day now would be nice, ya know?” Joel’s prickly mood settled the score. Things were definitely soaring past uncomfortable and landed on planet catastrophe. Y/N stopped kicking dust up on Joel’s heels.

“Cut the shit, Joel. Let the girl speak.”

His answer or lack of must have been sufficient enough for Y/N as they moved onwards. Y/N grew fond of the child eventually loving the sweet but sour teen chiseling bit by bit but Ellie was worth the risk. Always.

A lighthearted tone filtered through their ears; a welcomed noise to the alternative.

“Why can’t you hear a pter—pt”

“Pterodactyl. It’s a dinosaur.”

Ellie repeated; the word feeling foreign on her tongue.

“Whatever. Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl going to the bathroom?”

Y/N smiled waiting for the punch line. Joel staggered ahead trying his best to ignore the current ladies of his life. Y/N counted to ten; “Oh out with it already! Enlighten us.”

An innocent laughter accompanied hardly allowing Ellie to reveal the answer; “Because…the p is silent!”

She broke into a fit of giggles amused at her own joke.

“Wow, might have to file that way away for a rainy day kiddo.”

They trekked six more hours before finding stable campgrounds. One by one, their sleeping bags rolled along the frosty, unforgiving terrain just close enough but never touching. With the sun long set and a fire ablaze, everyone settled into their nightly routine which usually consisted of Ellie reading her comic books and Joel retreating so far into his own head. Easier that way... It annoyed the living piss outta him. His hand clenched wishing to lace his fingers with hers, a pathetic token of affection. But the rational part of his brain told him to shut it off and bury it so deep not even he would know its residence.

“I’ll take first and second watch. Y’all catch some sleep.”

His eyes shifted over Ellie; “And don’t think you can stay up all night reading, tomorrow’s a big day for all us. That includes you, Y/N.”

Two silent beats passed. Joel resumed; “And don’t think I don’t know bout Frank sneakin you that sack of books you keep poorly hidden. Don’t fool yourself, darling. I’m always one step ahead.”

Her eyebrow rose in morbid curiosity; “Just because some of us are determined to quite literally suck the fun out of this shitty world doesn’t equivalent said person having absolutely anything to say about mine.”

Ellie agreed quickly nodding intuitively; “Oh, Y/N. What would I do without you?”

Her rebuttal was quick witted; “Not sure, die maybe?”

“Yep, you are so my favorite.”

A miserable grumble echoed back; “Heard that.”

“Goodnight o loveable child I never wanted but slowly let into my cold wretched heart regardless.”

“Sweet dreams, sucker.”  

Hours ticked by bringing him to the cuff of midnight madness. Joel surveyed the frozen forest scattered in shadows and secrecy. He hated when there wasn’t a clear-cut option. When it was kill or be killed, you’re suddenly forced to choose and fast. Little snores filtered the frigid air reminding him they at least would live to see another day.

 For the next couple minutes, Joel scavenged his memories; the ones that tugged at him most frequently were with his beautiful baby and Y/N. Every birthday, holiday, and Saturday movie night of their lives was spent creating infectious happiness. If only he had stayed the night he opted to run or kissed her without hesitation, given an ounce of himself so she could possibly understand the gaping hole she forever filled in his heart. She was his best friend, his confidante, his past. Too scared to be lovers, eternally looped in boundless temptation.  

Sarah’s death had permanently hardened him reliving the screeching cries of Y/N, the utter desperation tied in her howls, and the forlorn terror taking ahold of Tommy at the sight of Sarah’s lifeless limbs. The aching emptiness of her death shaped him into the monster he was today…maybe always has been. Y/N was a reminder of everything decent he ever had and for was reason alone to keep her at arm’s length no matter the cost. Joel Miller was a man of his word…most of the time.

Dampened twigs snapped beneath worn boots in the distance between him and the girls. His girls. Deep down Joel knew things could never pan out even in pre-Outbreak. He hid like a coward in plain sight from anything out of his control and that usually meant Y/N. Never predictable, a constant that scared Joel to his core. But not now, not when survival predictably remained on the forefront of his mind. He made a promise to Tess and he’d be damned if he didn’t do his best to fulfil it. Life was merciless and winter didn’t help their shared misery. He too was thankful to be closing in on their predicted coordinates, to Tommy.

A small hand rested atop his shoulder squeezing slightly. Joel tensed turning around. The pair exchanged looks. Her voice was soft like churned butter; “Let’s switch. You go rest up.”

At her cruelest, Y/N was compassionate. A calloused palm connected with her warm cheek. Y/N inadvertently leaned into the reassuring stroke. Her hypnotic eyes fluttered open at the foreign sensation jolting back. She sighed. Why did it always feel so natural with Joel? Why was this curse laid upon Y/N, to love and never truly know love. She was convinced it was some cruel cosmic prank handcrafted just for her. He lingered, thumb caressing the corner of her rosy lips. Flickers of hazel filtered through his irises allowing himself a moment of reprieve and relaxation. He bathed it in.

Their blissful bubble burst too quickly pummeling them to reality. Y/N pulled away instantly missing the welcomed heat.

“Y/N…”

With lightning speed, Y/N propelled off the soggy ground sprinting near a clearing. When deemed far enough, Y/N paused her back facing Joel. He stopped leaving minimal space.  

“No. You don’t get to do this. Not now, not ever. You hear me, Joel Miller?”

Confusion was written all over his face; “Darlin’, please talk—”

Y/N shook her head, her shoulders slumped forward; “See Joel, you can’t say things like that. I’m not your girl, you’ve made that abundantly clear time and time again so what else could we possibly have left to discuss, hm?”

“That’s not fair.”

A chortle slipped from Y/N only angering his budding temper.

Her gaze seared into his; “You really wanna do this?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”  

“Fine, let’s fucking go.”

Y/N angled her body facing Joel.

“You love the way I make you feel. The endless compliments, the incessant worship, the prioritized attention, I mean the list just keeps going. You give me just enough of yourself and then inevitably pull away. Girl after girl just waltz through and I let you because I figured it was better to have you in any capacity than not at all. I fucked up by putting you first, but you allowed it, didn’t you?”

She bit the inside of lip refusing to cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve the privilege. His mouth opened ready to interject. Y/N continued.

“I’ve been in love with you for so fucking long, humiliation would be too nice of a term. Don’t bullshit or bait me. Every morning I wake up, I have to swallow this bitter pill. So no offense but fuck you for using me to make you happy until you felt like you didn’t need me anymore and left me wondering where I went wrong.”

Words flew fast; “Yer putting words in my mouth! Haven’t even given me a fighting chance. You’ve already called the winner.”

Y/N’s hands fisted by her side in attempt to suppress her irritation.

“I gave you two decades. I hated myself for imagining you. Every kiss, every caress, every fucking thing. And then you--.”

His heart jumpstarted genuinely fearful of the path they were going down.

“The night we made love, I thought I’d finally won, that the heavens aligned or some bullshit. You’d never kissed me like that before. When I found you gone in the morning, I still held out, you were going to be different. You fucked me and discarded me for the newest model. Guess you got it out of your system.”

“S’not how I remember it.”

“No? Remember making me your glorified secret until Outbreak Day? You were embarrassed and I was heartbroken. Luckily, some higher power saw fit to give me a six-year breather until running into you …and Tess.”

Joel was solemn, remorseful and unsure what qualities she found attractive.  

“Is it my turn yet? Great. Now listen here, I was an asshole and a manipulator, and an overall garbage human. I worked too much, made no time for hobbies of my own, I didn’t...don’t understand why you--.” His voice shook for barely a second finding his footing quick; “You deserved an entire galaxy. I couldn’t give you that, not on my best day. Eventually, you would resent me. An ordinary loser who couldn’t begin to make you happy.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make alone. It takes two to tango.”

“I know.”

“We’ve done this dance before. I’m tired, Joel. I wanna live just for a second without this hostility, this fury underneath my skin. I need to—exist.”  

Ellie’s sweet snorts erupted the intensity. Thank God, the youngster isn’t eavesdropping for once. The rustle of trees casted dazzling shadows and a far spookier imagery.

“It’s bout time we go our own ways. Don’t you think?... Joel, I’d rather live without you than like this.”

It tasted putrid leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth; “Ellie is the only reason I’m here. That girl softened something in me and I know you hate that and yer a hardass but guess what, Joel? You aren’t the only one that lost somebody so quit being so damn selfish and buck up. It’s more than just you and me, old man.”

His signature scowl was more than enough for Y/N to know he got the message. She awaited his rebuttal but it didn’t come. She stood resolute and waited again met with nothing. His upper lip snarled but Joel nodded nonetheless. Dreadful relief flooded her system. The metallic taste of blood overcame his senses realizing he’d torn the inside of his cheek. Say something, anything you idiot!

He didn’t. Because this wasn’t a fairy tale and he wasn’t a prince. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ellie awoke with a loud yawn, alerting the group. Y/N and Joel ignored each other packing in complete silence. Ellie’s eyes bounced from grump to grumpier electing not to rock the boat. Y/N pulled the map showing Ellie the trail; “How many days does that equal? My math isn’t, uh, 100% reliable.”

Joel butted in; “Day or two give or take. Almost to Jackson County which means it just a few miles at that point. Time to get goin’.”

El trudged through the infinite icy slush together. Her socks were damped sticking to weirdly to the heel of her left foot. Though crisp, cool air was much welcomed compared to stale, humid summers. Turns out, global climate was indeed not a joke. Luckily, that too fell with the collapse of society. With their destination soon in sight, Y/N could’ve sworn a spark of hope ignited in her veins.

----------

Tags: @beltzboys2015-blog @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @wildmavs @brittlebarbie @freyafriggafrey @deansgirl79​ @neoqueen306​

[rhapsodyred-writes]

“you lay a hand on them one more time and i’ll take it clean off of you.”

[Any rent free]

CW for people touching reader without permission, and threats of violence

It had been a nice evening. Red had taken you on a classic dinner-and-a-movie date and pulled the cliché moves during the movie; it didn't matter that you'd been dating for a while and he didn't really need to woo you anymore.

The air was cool for a walk home - not too cool, but comfortable - and for a while it was just you and Red, chatting happily about everything that crossed your minds.

Until you felt a clammy hand on your wrist. You yanked it back reflexively and turned to see someone you didn't know leering at you. Red picked up on your discomfort immediately; you could feel the tension in the air as his magic crackled to life, ready for a fight.

“you lay a hand on them one more time and i’ll take it clean off of you.” He growled at the stranger. It was a warning, and if it had been directed at you, you probably would have backed down immediately. You were glad it wasn't; Red wasn't the type to make empty threats.

The two stared at each other for several tense seconds before the stranger shrugged and shuffled off deeper into the alley he'd appeared from; apparently harassing you wasn't worth the hell he'd get as payment.

"Thanks Red," You sighed, trying to shake off the weird feeling on your wrist from where that guy touched you.

"anytime sweetheart." His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He clearly wasn't willing to risk anything happening to you. "there's not really any need to thank me though." He chuckled. "i really woulda taken his hand off, if he tried again."

You didn't doubt that.

[waterforlorn]

day fourteen. october 20th. we found a pretty nice hotel in wyoming on our way back from mount rushmore. sure it was a detour, but it was worth it, i feel. i enjoyed it. never really had the opportunity to … explore the country. better late than never, i guess. don't think nico did a lot of sightseeing before either. it's relaxing, i wanna say.

just him, me.. vast country. i enjoy it greatly, but i do miss camp. i miss the thrill of fighting. sure, we sparred, but it isn't the same. and yeah, fighting's a risk, but i know he and i can make it. we got each other and we tend to not go alone either, so we got a team, too. we got each other's backs. we'll be fine. i believe in us.

so, this hotel. not sure how we paid for it, but i like it here. it's fancier than the motels we've been staying in and the view… is stunning. it's nothing special, really. like, nothing fancy to see… just .. nature. huge forest, mountains. i feel so calm when i see it. we spent last night curled up on the floor, wrapped in blankets and just … watched sundown. guess i can no longer deny i like… cuddling, which is definitely nico's fault. he's so clingy and wraps around me every chance he gets. guess my body got kinda used to it, so now it thinks that cuddling is good. yeah, for sure. not my fault. i woke up feeling fucking sixty, so that's not happening again. who even thought sleeping while sitting is smart?

our next stop wasn't the interstate. nico had yet another surprise in store. we headed south to colorado. first stop was denver. the botanic garden? uh, most for nico than me, i guess. not that it was bad, but stuff like that ain't for me. like.. i know the flowers are pretty and all, but .. i can't being myself to care. thank fuck my dad isn't demeter. woulda been awkward. nothing against flowers and plants. although, kit would've probably had a great time here.

i do miss the little shits in camp. everybody always told me to open up and try liking people, but it's not as easy as that sounds. i can't just look at someone and decide i don't hate them. sure, standard setting being i don't give a fuck about you isn't ideal, but it's far from where i used to be. i used to hate the world and everybody in it. some of these kids… are more than that to me. don't know how it happened, but i'm stuck caring about them, i guess.

like fucking nico. insert a lot of scribbling that's crossed out

next stop was the desert. yeah, i asked him if he was sure. he was. he really was. i worried for a moment, but no. he knew where he brought me. it was fucking incredible. there's a huge-ass amphitheatre in the middle of like… cliffs and mountains. red rocks park. i know nobody is reading this but i recommend it. we watched some play in the evening, no idea what it was about, but nico seemed to like it.

and then camping, in a tent. yeah. actual camping after hiking for like 2 hours through the night. tent was comfy and we roasted some meet over a fire, but …i mean, neither of us slept much. no regrets, though. we're about to hike back to the car and get back on the road.

wonder what he's got planned next. yep, i said it. it's over for me, i'm not escaping this roadtrip anymore.

[neverfittedin]

@r3dblccd asked: what was your plan ??  you could’ve gotten yourself killed ! (from Hwayoung)

"Coulda, shoulda, woulda. Story of my life." He shrugged before deciding not to leave it at that. "It worked hasn't it? It's all what matters." He had known the risk, but as long as everyone else made it was it worth it. Nick wasn't afraid of dying, living had been always the challenging part to him.

[oh-nxts-and-bxlts]

"THAT'S why you've been playing tricks on me?! You thought I was gonna steal your sister away from you??"

Celeste's irritated date was trying to babysit Dee until the elder sibling was done getting ready-- they'd been hanging out more often lately. Trying to broker peace with the younger sibling had been impossible, as long as he seemed like a stuffy suitor. Not to mention the fact she didn't even know his name.

"OK, small fry: if you please finish your homework, I'll get you an ice cream cone with *two* scoops," whispered Rex "and when all of us go to the theater later I'll vouch for your ticket to any show you want. AND naturally I'm gonna be a perfect gentleman with Celeste. That's my final offer!"

[[ The rare normal humans AU...

"Ya' really up an' needed me ta' say it straight, didn't ya'." Dee grated out from the other side of the kitchen table, halfway sunken behind her pile of textbooks and glaring with a none too impressed look over her round glasses at the well-dressed fella' across from her. "Ya'd think, that finding the pebbles in your shoes whenever ya' take 'em off to visit woulda' actually tipped you off. Or did ya' never actually figure out that yer' pockets always have lint for a reason that ain't just ya' liking fuzzy coats?"

How the young teen even managed to collect downright comical amounts of lint to stuff in Rex's coat pockets, she wasn't keen on giving up. But admitting to her crimes- now that, she had no qualms with. Even then, she continued to hold his gaze with all the pride a thirteen-year old with uncommon nerve could muster, considering him with heavy scrutiny.

The suitor came in with strong arguments, but she'd resisted the call of sugar plenty of times before. But that AND a movie? Was being stubborn to this weirdo that definitely remained a threat even worth the risk? He didn't exactly say he wouldn't sneak off with Celeste, but he still made a height comment, but- Her older sibling had a way with throwing a spanner in her works. Before Dee could voice what possibly would be a scathing negative, that quality of hers was illustrated by the sound of someone running down the flight of stairs and practically skipping into the room. In a ruffle of a nice, peach and pink dress, Celeste weaseled her way to the table, and planted a little kiss onto Rex's definitely too well brushed hair.

"He-llooo my darlings~! Ready for movie night? I think I've got a good idea for a movie we can all watch! As soon as Dee finishes her homework like the good student she is~" Dee tried to lunge off her seat, but Celeste had the range advantage, and before long, her face was getting pinched and prodded in a way that almost felt vengeful.

"GAAAK-!" Dee was certainly regretting things, right about then.

[atangledfate]

💗 @Whisper

💗- A memory about a good deed they did

Why would they ask that? It wasn't like she considered her deeps good or bad, she was just doing her duty. She never thought about her missions much in that context.

✋ Saved alot of people during the Outbreak, i guess the one that i remember most was when Tangle and i went in to pull Tails out of his lab. We saved alot of people, got alot on board the ship. Fought back enough of the creatures to hold the point. Was only when amy radioed us to help the kid, that we left our post. ✋

She paused tapping her chin

✋ Most of the travel was via rooftop, was safer that way. Wished i could say it was worth the risk... in the end we lost the data. I guess we saved the kid, not that he needed saving. That kids mech did a number on the zombots... probably would have been safer if we just held back, but who knows maybe without us he woulda got infected... i just know we saved alot of people. Not every mission can be a happy one... but it comes ot mind ✋

[dzpenumbra]

1/3/23

Today was pretty decent. Pretty fackin decent, Julian.

I slept like shit. Yep, despite being super exhausted last night, I slept like ass. Woke up at least 5 times. Got up when my cat puked on the floor again, this time was not a hairball. I have no idea what to do when that happens. I brought it up with the vet and they barely reacted. Like she's either puked up a hairball or just fluid probably... 4 days this week? At least? And she has thyroid problems and kidney disease. So like... I feel like I should be doing something about it, or at least be concerned... But my theory on it is that she's being fed too far apart. I mean... too close together... Agh it's complicated. I feed her in the AM (like 1 or 2 PM), and I get my first bit of food. Then we both feed at like... 8PM? Maybe 9? And then we both don't eat until the next cycle starts. That's just what life has been since I stopped free-feeding her a while back. And now she's on a super strict prescription diet, she doesn't even get treats, so... I kinda have to schedule feed her. It's a tricky one. The answer really is to get up earlier, but I've really been struggling with sleep.

Weirdly enough, the problem is not falling asleep, which used to be the big problem for like over a decade. The issue is staying asleep and getting to bed. When I get trauma shit set off, I feel like... I am more prone to self-soothe, self-care. Which is good, it's very good. But... I do tend to hyperfocus on it, because I will not settle for a mediocre self-care method, I will find the best one out there. And then I get sucked into it big-time, because it's working. Then I look at the clock, and it's 5:30AM. This happens constantly and it doesn't really matter whether my normal sleep schedule is in place or not. I could be on a normal bedtime of like... 1AM, and I'll just be so engrossed in my self-care thing that I just... ignore my tiredness. Like the ancient meme from the Civilization series "just one more turn..."

And that's the most depressing part, because honestly, I would rather be playing a game or making art or music or whatever the thing I was engrossed in was. Because going to sleep is a risk. It's a chance that I'm gonna get some really nasty dreams. The thing I'm hyperfocused on is safe, it's good. So that's tricky. But that shock to my sleep schedule doesn't right itself overnight. Emotions need to recover first. But, during the winter, I lose a lot of my go-to emotional healing methods... specifically... going into nature. Because it gets dark at fucking 4PM, and when things are rough I'm not getting out of bed until like 2. Mandatory shower is half an hour. Caffeine and food is another half hour. Then I look at the clock and I have an hour to do anything. Say I want to go to this State Park. 18 minute drive. I have 40 minutes, and my ass isn't walking back to my car through the woods in the dark, so cut that in half. 20 minutes in, 20 minutes out. I hate to ask "is it worth it?" but like... is it? I feel like it'll just leave me frustrated and wanting more.

So yeah, PTSD strikes again. Go figure, staying up 5 hours past your normal sleep time for a few days completely throws your life off. Who woulda guessed?

On a less dark note, I got my furniture list put together, that was good. I was actually really locked in as far as getting house stuff on paper. Now I have more of an idea of what I'm looking for from Goodwill or the Habitat for Humanity place when I go.

I called the vet, I made sure they had more of the prescription food for Max, got them to order more of her arthritis supplements and set up a follow up appointment to check her blood levels. Poor thing, she's going through so much. At least she gets Gabapentin every night, she's gettin some real good sleep.

I did my yoga, it was good. The theme was "Listen" which I thought was ironic because I couldn't hear half of what she was saying, I guess I had the volume too low. I also couldn't follow some of it because I didn't really know what pose she was transitioning into, I don't really know the poses, so... I did my best. My hamstrings and my hips are in rough shape, my lower back feels like it just straight up doesn't bend... my shoulders have always carried all of my tension and are finally getting the rust out of the hinges, and my neck is slowly starting to come back into some semblance of a normal human neck. It's gonna take time to fix my horrible posture, but it's worth the work.

The big highlight of the day was getting my big comfy chair. I've been waiting for it, and it finally got delivered. It's a 6 foot beanbag style chair filled with shredded memory foam. Max has been sleeping in it all night, she absolutely loves it! I do too, it just needs some more time to expand I think, they said it can take up to 4-5 days to like... get where it's supposed to be. It's still cool, and I'm really glad to have it.

But here's where it gets a bit complicated. So... when I'm in my comfy chair... what do I do? I was picturing watching TV or something, just chilling and getting really comfy and watching something, but... I don't have a TV anymore. So I have to like... figure out a TV. And figure out what to hook it up to. It just isn't as simple as it used to be. Plus, this is the part that was a little... tough to process today. I haven't been shopping for a TV, or even looked at TVs or monitors in like... probably over 10 years. I think my current monitor is about 10 years old, maybe 8 or 9 minimum? So... I go... "okay, I just need a TV and maybe a wireless receiver or something and I'll be good, I guess?" Because I've seen people cast stuff from their phones to TVs before, so I know it's a thing, and... okay, I'm gonna simplify this thought because I'm super tired. I felt super old. TVs and monitors are basically the same thing, and TVs now all have operating systems and shit on them? Which I don't really... need, honestly. And monitors are not the right size for what I'm looking for. So it just kinda culture shocked me a bit, I guess. Like every fucking TV has a Siri built into it now, it's odd to me. But, I'm pretty sure I found a TV that has Chromecast built into it, and that might (and I stress, might) do what I want it to do. So I might opt for that.

Okay, seriously, I shit you not, I am doing all of this to avoid fucking advertisements and avoid being cornered and peer-pressured and forced into buying a subscription to something. I just want to watch my YouTube, maybe some Netflix stuff on my family account? And Twitch when I'm in the mood. And play Xbox sometimes. And not be bombarded by fucking ads. That's all. I don't think that's too much to ask. And my computer can do that. But I can't do that in my comfy chair at my computer. So...

Okay, I've lost interest in this, I'm sure anyone reading had long before I did. I just felt old doing that. Looking at tech nowadays and just getting frustrated because everything is made to "make things easier", on the assumption that you want to do what they want you to do. And then they intentionally engineer it to be super difficult to do things they might not want you to do. And they really don't talk about that part much, you know? So yeah, ease-of-use? Definitely. But not user-friendly. And I am straight up NOT shelling out that kinda cash for an ad machine, sorry. I might've tolerated it in the past to a degree, but targeting schizophrenia injection medications to someone in extreme isolation during the pandemic every fucking day is... abuse of advertising privileges. It's really fucked up. You don't target people with mental health issues and try to sell them medications, you are not doctors, you are not prescribers, we cannot buy these medications, just stop. Until they put a little more work into actually getting their demographics right, I'm not willing to pay that kind of price so that someone can make a few pennies. I feel like they could be advertising booze to recovering alcoholics and would not give half a shit. Oh shit, let's not forget the Reddit ads I was getting for bulletproof vests when I was moving to the city for the first time, really fucking helping the mental health crisis in our country there, assholes.

Tired. Okay. Good vibes, let's find them. Played the Ancestors game again tonight. Had a surprisingly good story line this time. Rescued a male, the two females got pregnant, then rescued another female after the male was tragically mauled by one of the 20,000 gigantic mean-ass cats around. The new female was sent out on an expedition to explore. She ended up finding where the old settlement was, surprisingly not too far away. And came really close to dying from a snakebite, like barely survived. Then she found a male stranded in a tree, dying of thirst with a gigantic anaconda nest at the base of the tree. She went to get him a coconut, but fell from the tree and broke her arm. She still soldiered up and got him the coconut, he joined her, they started heading back to the settlement. The male told her to stay put and went to get something to help with the broken bone, he gets sliced up by a big cat and they both have to book it. He's bleeding out. They make it to a river and patch both of their wounds. The river happens to be the one that the settlement is at, at the top of the waterfall. They breed, and at the end of the recording tonight, I had to figure out how to make them give birth. Yep, you have to manually give birth to offspring, it's not like... wait for them to mature, it's like... welp, you're pregnant so... give birth whenever I guess. It totally makes sense... But, logical fallacy aside, three babies were born. So I'm not locked anymore, and the tribe has a chance to grow and evolve. Yay.

[anon-e-miss]

A Touch of Sight - 3

When Jazz returned to the palace grounds he found Ironhide barking commands at the latest rookies to accept the Prime’s brand. Gruff and demanding, the Master of Arms drilled the rookies in their form. They had no weapons in their servos, and they would not until Ironhide was satisfied they would not kill themselves or someone else with their youthful folly. He was a demanding instructor, and almost universally beloved by those that trained or served under him. A warrior who had seen the rise and fall of the Golden Age of Empire, Ironhide had seen battle in near every corner of the planet, and he demanded nothing of the rookies or the soldiers or the watchmech that he did not first demand of himself.

Jazz waited for Ironhide to release the rookies for their cool down before he approached. Interrupting the Master of Arms while he was focused on his duties did not end well. If there was not a battle to fight, it was best to leave him to his work. An early life working the very sort of market he had just left, Jazz had the patience to wait out the Master of Arms, and more still. He had not sat on a mat like that Praxian, or worked a stall. Jazz’s work had been in an amongst the shoppers, and in dark alleys. Theft was punished by Empurata in Polihex, and Jazz’s quick servos had been honed under that ever present threat. By the time he had been a young mech, he had moved on from pick-pocketing and on to darker duties as he had come into the service of first Lord Straxus, and then the rebellion that had risen up in the Dead End against that despot. Fate had seen Jazz cross paths with the mech who had become Optimus Prime, and by that twist of fate he had come to Iacon and a greater rank and influence that he had ever imagined.

“Those scrapheaps ya sent me were quakin’ in their plating,” Ironhide declared as he watched the rookies jog loops around the training field, a cool down before they were off to their next round of training.

“Ya inspire that in scraplets,” Jazz replied.

“Nah, they were afraid of ya. The Lord Inquisitor. That title had them ‘bout to void their tanks. They confessed to everythin’, figurin’ ya’d know the truth already, ‘n they didn’t wanna get caught in a lie. Looks like they’ve been fleecin’ peddlers for a while. Mostly the Praxians. Easy to pray on the broken ‘n vulnerable. Sergeant Kup had the pleasure o’ removing their brands ‘n now they’ll do hard time in the energon mine as restitution for their crimes.”

“That was quick.”

“Like I said, they figured ya knew it all already so they saved themselves a nasty interrogation.”

“Ain’t the boogie mech but I suppose the rep can be useful.”

“Fraggin’ right. Don’t imagine ya were in the market lookin’ for corrupt watchmecha.”

“No. Just clearin’ my processor, actually. Just a fluke I overheard the peddler protest. Brave o’m to even speak. They coulda arrested ‘m ‘n no one ‘round woulda dared step in. A blind mech ain’t worth the risk to their own platin’.”

“So he’s actually blind? They sputter a bit ‘bound how could a blind mech tell the difference between brass ‘n silver.”

“Weight. Mech knows the weight o’ the coins. He’s blind alright, Hide. Got no optics. Looks like were burnt outta his helm.”

“That’s an ugly thought. Who’d of done that, I wonder?”

“Don’t know. I wondered if it coulda happened in the Fall, but he didn’t have another mark on’m.”

“‘Spose yer gonna poke ‘round a little now.”

“Maybe.”

Though Jazz was curious as to how the Praxian had come to have such a disfiguring injury, he was more intrigued by what use the peddler might have for him. There were many mechanisms like him in the markets throughout Iacon. Victims of the wars that had broken the hold of empires over the planet, victims of the greed of coldsparked master. They were broken in frame or in processor. Some were like that Praxian, peddlers of whatever goods they could make or find to sell. Others were beggars relying on the generosity of the shoppers and peddlers for their mega-cycle’s fuel. Largely they went ignored, treated like nothing more that scrap on the streets. In Polihex these mechanisms would have been called Empties. Some of Jazz’s most vital intelligence had come from Empties who had seen or heard something vital. He wondered how much that blind peddler had heard, and what sort of wisdom he could gleam from the disabled beggars and peddlers scraping a living in Iacon’s markets. It was worth considering.

It was a good enough excuse to visit the market again, not that he needed one. Jazz went where he pleased. While most who heard his title though Jazz was the Prime’s enforcer, his duties were quite different than meting out law and order. His duties lay in the defence of their realm from threats both without and beyond Iacon’s borders. He did not meet out his duties with blaster or fist, but with optics and audials. He had operatives in every level of society, and in every realm in Cybertron. Mirage sat in court, and listened for conspiracies amongst the upper echelon of Iacon’s society. Hound walked amongst the servants, and listened to the gossip both revolving around themselves and their masters. Bumblebee walked amonst the common mechanisms. There were others of course, dozens more. A dozen more would serve Jazz well.

He took the fluorite from his subspace and examined the crystal. It was a fine specimen, with layers of purple, blue and teal. Jazz could see no sign of contamination in the uncut crystal. Ratchet would be happy with the quality. While it was not a rare crystal, fluorite was a staple ingredient in the tincture the medic made to turn common energon in that vile concoction he called med-grade. All medics had their own recipe for med-grade, often several depending on the injury or illness. Because the tinctures were being given to mechanisms whose self-repair systems were already vulnerable, the purity of the each ingredient was important. A tiny speck of chlorine in a tincture, added to fuel laced with potassium could prove lethal. Though Jazz had not examined the peddlers entire stock, the crystals had all appeared in good shape and form. Jazz wondered where he had found them all.

“What have you done to yourself this time, Jazz?” Ratchet asked without looking up from his counter.

“Now Ratch, ‘m offended,” Jazz replied with a cackle. “I brought ya a present.”

“I doubt I want it,” the medic replied acidly, though he looked up. Jazz held out the crystal and Ratchet’s expression morphed from frown to contemplation. He took the crystal. “It’s a good looking piece of fluorite. Who’d you pickpocket it from? And how cheap do you think I am that you can bribe me with fluorite?”

“I bought it. Thank ya. Wanted to give the peddler coin, ‘n it was the only crystal I knew the use for.”

“No clinoclase?”

“Ain’t gonna find that on a peddler’s mat.”

“I’d hope not. It is a good piece of fluorite. Perhaps I’ll save it for the next time I have to boost your self-repairs when you inevitably try to get yourself killed.”

“Hush. I ain’t that bad.”

“You’re worse than Ironhide.”

“But ‘m better than Wheeljack.”

“True. Did this peddler have a good selection?”

“Sure. The scraplet tryin’ to scam’m was buyin’ ajoite.”

“If the idiot can’t pressurize he should see a medic, not buy crystals out of a market stall,” Ratchet scoffed. “I’m getting short on quite of few crystals. Our supply chain took a hit when Praxus was wiped off the planet.”

“Gimme a list and I’ll see what he’s got.”

“It’ll be a long one. So what sort of scam was the idiot trying?”

“Prowl, that’s what the peddler called himself, is blind. There’s no missin’ it, Ratch. He’s got no optics. Looks like he got burnt bad. Fragger was tryin’ to pass off brass as silver, ‘n Prowl called ‘m on it. ‘M ‘n his buddy, a coupla watchmechs. Didn’t expect to be called out by a blind peddler. I stepped in before they could try anythin’ else.”

“How did he know they were brass?”

“The weight. I gave’m gold for the fluorite ‘n he knew, ‘n he called me out on it too. Clever thing to learn, I think. Keeps his customers honest.”

“He didn’t have any helpers?”

“No, just’m while I was there.”

“Harvesting crystals can risky work for the sighted. Either he has a dealer or he’s very good with his servos.”

“I ‘spose I’ll find out.”

[txbbo]

I've been debating making this because this is definitely not what my blog is known for and I was worried that people wouldn't want to see it, but with the amount of shit im seeing on twitter it's compelled me to make this because I'm so frustrated.

I feel like I could make 100 posts about 'Cancel Culture' and it wouldn't be enough, so I'm just going to focus on what caused me to write this tonight - the Tommy situation. *Warning for a VERY long post below*

To be clear, Tommy has been in 'hot water' on twitter for the past couple weeks, roughly starting with the KSI collaboration where he made a joke about dream stans.

Last week, when the SBI 'exposing account' got made and twitter hyped it up, someone made a Tommy account and made a thread of things he needed to be '''educated''' on: https://twitter.com/idktommyinnit/status/1379158964148002821?s=20

I'll let you read it for yourself (and come to your own conclusion) but to me.... half of this stuff does not require a twitter thread? Breaking it down accusation by accusation:

1) 'The Mexican accent' - the clips show he is clearly only doing it when copying big Q (who famously exaggerates his own accent) and there is zero malicious intent (Big Q is also IN the 3 clips mentioned in the thread, and obviously didn't tell Tommy it was offensive). There's debates in the comments from people who think it is offensive and people who don't, so I'm not trying to pick a side. To avoid accidentally offending anyone, maybe it is best for him to stop, but the way twitter acts as if he was purposefully doing this to offend people is just not true.

2- 'Making a slave joke' - Even saying that feels wrong, because it suggests Tommy is doing something awful. Instead, they are referring to the 'bit' that Tommy, Techno, Tubbo and Ant were involved in, when Tommy and Techno took Tubbo and Ant as their slave. People are taking this vod and using it to accuse Tommy of being insensitive to Black people, but I think people are just assuming the worst. Slavery existed long before the transatlantic slave trade and still exists today. This is a role-play server - Tommy 'forced' Ant to work for him and used the word slave, which to me is exactly what was happening? People 'murder' others on the SMP, people 'kidnap' on the SMP, people are 'terrorists' on the SMP, and all happen without issue. To add, Ant is a WHITE man. Tommy taking a WHITE man as a slave is not something uber problematic.

3- 'His reply to Techno's 'murder is bad' tweet'. - I get people saying that Techno's initial tweet was insensitive, but saying Tommy's agreement to this from almost over a year ago is something notable and worth addressing is just super nitpicky and is clearly only in there to pad out the thread. It also makes me wonder what other CC's interacted with it and if THEY should be cancelled too (according to twitter).

4 - 'The saying slurs' tweet / jokes about 'whats the worst word you know' - This one I can kinda see how people might not like it. However, it's clearly a 'poke' at his friends, making them seem like bad people. To me, its in the same vein as 'Tubbo is a Tory' or when Tubbo shoots back that 'Tommy is a Nigel Farage fan'. They're obviously not, but its making fun of your friends by saying they are, and mockingly making them out out to be bad people.

5- 'Covid jokes' - People are taking jokes he made about him 'having covid' and saying he shouldn't joke about this, even going as far to linking it to asian hate crimes. I don't even know how to explain that that this is just? not a 'cancellable offence'? I'm sorry but if I hear anyone in my family coughing I make a little joke that 'they better not have covid' and I know other people do. I have someone in my family who is extremely vulnerable to Covid and if they caught it, would quite literally die, but I can understand that jokes like these are harmless. The whole internet had a running joke that we were in a 'panoramic' or 'Panera' or 'insert any word that sounds like pandemic.

This thread got a lot of attention and anything he tweeted afterwards was spammed with the link and there were so many people upset that he hadn't addressed it. I saw so many people say how 'upset' and 'disappointed' they were in him.

Going on to today, this happened: https://twitter.com/khasiid/status/1380611890104139776?s=20

I get it, it looks bad. But for context (which the tweet doesn't give), the reply was only up for less than a minute. It was obvious to me, even BEFORE Tommy addressed it in his stream (clip here: https://twitter.com/cowrpse/status/1380640046202593283?s=20 ) that it was a mistake. In the clip, he clearly acknowledges his mistake and seems embarrassed. To me, this situation should just be laid to rest because a mistake does not need this much attention, but twitter disagrees.

In case it wasn't obvious by now, the tide is turning against Tommy and people are less willing to ignore genuine mistakes and assume the worst.

Today, during his birthday stream people were clearly already waiting for him to mess up. Around half way through, he started saying 'finna' out of context and Tubbo joined in. This led to tons of tweets telling him he was misusing AAVE, and while there were plenty of people willing to be patient and educate, there were also people seeing this as an example of him being a 'bad person' and someone who should be 'without a platform'. I think people forget that not everyone has the same internet upbringing as they do. In general, I think its noted that the misuse of AAVE is something that has just recently been brought to attention. I learned about it through tiktok and stan twitter, and I don't think it's unimaginable that a British 17 year old boy (who is not active on either) has never heard of 'African American Vernacular English'.

Just for a fuller picture, today has also brought about another 'criticism' that I just had to address.

1) 'Tommy made a KKK joke' - Like the 'slavery' point, saying this is extremely misleading. It makes people think the worst. Here's the clip: https://twitter.com/ghostburz/status/1380673589612011522?s=20

Here, Tommy and Tubbo are both joking about Tubbo's 'bit' of naming his alt streams 'aaaaaaaaaa', 'bbbbbbb', 'cccccc', etc and how it would've been bad if it was 'kkkkkkkk' (for obvious reasons). That is literally it. It is a less than 20 second clip. Acknowledging that people woulda thought about the 'KKK' is not him 'not understanding Black issues', its a throwaway joke about the obvious.

Lastly, someone on twitter has made a tommyinnit (address asap) doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tZEZtBzikS-EYYkssfFtwVOoFqOwCK0zhStLe6H1wCc/edit

I've basically already covered everything in this document, but I wanted to mention how extremely 'guilt trippy' the whole thing is. I struggled to come up with the perfect word for the situation, and I am open to hearing other peoples opinion, but as I have mentioned none of these things Tommy has been accused of were done with malicious intent, and some I believe don't even need addressed at all.

'slavery is a source of astronomical trauma for black people, and isn’t something to be taken lightly if you’re to look into the horrors of the slave trade."

and "Oftentimes they are the last words we hear before we die and it really is not Tommy’s place to joke about words that affect us so negatively."

Are extremely emotional words for a 17-year-old boy to hear on his birthday, for stuff that I believe has been taken out of context and blown out of proportion.

I really feel bad for him, because such a large proportion of twitter (which ofc is the loudest side of the fanbase) is angry at him and is demanding (as the document says) ''either a stream or twitter thread/twitlonger to addressing this' and 'a long and serious apology instead of a short statement pre-stream'.

We all know how twitter works, and unless his apology is perfect (which to me means apologising for stuff that he should't have to, as explained in the thread), twitter will continue with this weird hyper focus on everything he does, and it's not going to end well.

Twitter's mentality of 'putting everything this person has done that could ever be considered problematic' into one neat little thread is so unhelpful and counter intuitive. I got overwhelmed reading some of the stuff people were saying about him, I can't imagine how he feels.

I feel like I have more to say but at risk of writing an essay longer than my actual work I have to do, I'm going to end here.

[odinsblog]

If you weren't willing to bid why even agree to go? Maybe there wasn't time but she could have at least continued looking for someone who would actually bid.

[re: this post, in the tags]

I don’t have access to the “read more” function and I didn’t want to bore everyone to death, so I didn’t put the complete story in the tags. But the whole story is this: originally, when my friend told me about the auction, we were both going to go together. She was going to go with the intent to possibly purchase as an investment property, and I was just going because I was somewhat familiar with the area and wanted to see the homes. Also, and more importantly, we were both under the impression that the home was going to go for somewhere in the $300k range, not nearly $2 million. At the last moment, she unexpectedly had to jet off to Miami for a meeting (rich people shit, I guess), but she still was still going to try to make the auction. But the times were too close - the auction began only 90 minutes before her scheduled takeoff time (she was still tryna figure out how she could do both, but it just wasn’t physically possible), so being a good friend, I told her to make her meeting on time, and I would attend the auction for her. We cobbled this last minute plan together probably an hour before the auction started, so no, there really wasn’t time for anyone else to fill in. Hell, earlier in the week, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to go at all, so this was very last minute, strung together type shit. There was literally no time to get someone else.

As for why EYE didn’t place that bid? I’ve never before in my life bid $1 million dollars, for anything. Right then didn’t seem like the time to unexpectedly begin. And while my friend has me halfway convinced that nothing bad probably would have happened if we (she) won the auction and I didn’t have the cash on me, when that kind of money is on the line—millions of dollars—WHY SHOULD I EVEN TAKE THE CHANCE?? When I said that I was likely the only Black person on that island, I was not joking. And yeah, it woulda actually been kinda cool to see what bidding $1 milly for something feels like, but I’m old enough & Black enough to know that when very large sums of money are involved + you’re the sole Black body in an isolated, uber wealthy, white enclave, it prolly ain’t worth taking the risk—especially when it’s not even going to enrich me personally, lol. Black folks have gotten into serious trouble for far less.

While we dID bicker about it, at the end of the day this isn’t a big deal for her. There’s no shortage of multimillion dollar, waterfront homes to buy if she really wants one. She got it like that, I don’t. But I’m not pressed about it, she’s just about over it, and frankly, I get that maybe you’re curious, but I honestly don’t think you should be too concerned either. Cool?

[ragingbookdragon]

Through Hoods, Through Lace, Through Hearts--We'll Find Our Healing PT.1

Jason Todd x Reader Story (Arkhamverse)

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I started playing Arkham Knight again and got inspired. Who woulda thought?? Enjoy! -Thorne

Gotham wasn’t exactly safe since Batman—or Bruce Wayne—had died. All things considered, it wasn’t as bad as it used to be now that Red Hood had moved in and started tackling the criminals Batman had left behind—permanently. Killer Moth had been the first and Roman Sionis was the second to go, and while Red Hood hadn’t outright claimed it, the leftover crew that hadn’t been pumped full of lead, had said that they saw the vigilante leaving, so it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. And it didn’t stop there.

Red Hood had started in on Penguin’s gang too. Now that Batman wasn’t around to stop the weapons and drug smuggling, it’d given the infamous gang leader a free ticket into Gotham. There were some reports about the neighboring vigilante Nightwing coming over from Blüdhaven to stop him. Rumor had it that someone said they even saw him and the Red Hood working together at one point, but it didn’t seem all to believable as the latter didn’t seem to be the partnering type.

That being said, with no one to stop him from killing all the criminals he wanted, a lot of the small-time fish got out of the business, not wanting to be met at the end of Red Hood’s handguns—it’s the exact reason she got out of the game. The money was good, and she was a damn good thief, but no amount of payout was worth her life. But somehow, trouble always managed to find her again.

***

Her file might’ve gotten deleted from GCPD’s database, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to take the easy way down the street and risk an officer recognizing her. She stuck to the back alleys like usual, ignoring the catcalls and sleazy comments about her outfit, but still keeping her brass knuckles around her hand—could never be too careful in Gotham.

Working an honest job sucked in her opinion, and the only thing more humiliating than working at Super-Babes was the number of tips she was getting at the end of her shift. Maybe if she smiled and flirted a bit more, they’d give her a tenner instead of a fiver. She’d half a mind to shove that five down the asshole’s throat after he ran his hand up the back of her thigh, but she was lucky that Tony had been working the kitchen shift—watching him throw the guy out on his ass was payment enough.

Even if she was managing to scrape by, working a restaurant job was kicking her ass, and something deep inside her itched for one more heist, but with the Red Hood stalking the city, there was no way in hell that she was going to risk it. The man had a reputation for leaving bodies and shell cases, and she wasn’t going to be the former. No, she was working towards a better future, getting back on track, and even if she was waitress, she was doing a lot better than most of the old crew. Most of them had either joined up with Black Mask, in hindsight, a horrible error on their part, or gotten thrown back into lockup. She was lucky—she got out during the recovery of Gotham after the whole Scarecrow and Arkham Knight deal. But that didn’t stop them from sending her the occasional request of her skills. All they received was a big ‘fuck no and fuck you’.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N). Finally tracked you down.” Speak of the devil.

“Alex,” she sighed heavily as she turned halfway, catching sight of her old partner—and old flame, but that wasn’t important. “Figured you would at some point.” Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Alex chuckled and leaned against the wall. “No need to be so touchy. I just wanted to talk.”

(Y/N) shook her head and hiked her purse higher onto her shoulder, fingers tightening around the brass knuckles in her pocket.

“If it’s not about my next shift at Super-Babes, I don’t give a rat’s ass what it is,” she countered, glaring at him.

“That’s where you’ve been working?” he questioned, but his tone gave way to the knowingness in his gaze. “Really?”

“Not like there’s anywhere else for ex-thieves to apply, Alex,” (Y/N) grumbled. “Employers are pretty meticulous when it comes to criminal records.”

“I’m not.”

She glowered at him. “I’m not interested in whatever you want me to do for you.”

“Even if you’ll get paid?” he suggested.

“I can’t believe I’m going to ask,” she sighed, eyes narrowing at the grin that split across his face. “What are you doing?”

Alex pulled out a file and walked up to her. “I knew you couldn’t resist a big payout.”

“Fuck you,” she grunted, swiping the manilla folder from him. “Shine a light for me.”

He pulled out his phone and flicked his flashlight on, watching as she read the papers, occasionally flipping the sheets.

All at once, she paused and gaped at him. “Wayne Manor?” She blinked. “You wanna `excavate Wayne Manor?”

Alex nodded and turned the flashlight off, stowing the phone back into his pocket. “Good plan, isn’t it?”

(Y/N) breathed in shock and lowered the folder. “Are you insane?”

“I’m failing to see your issue with this.”

“You want to excavate the home of a dead man. You really can’t see the issue with it?”

“That he’s dead?” Alex offered. “Technically that’s not graverobbing. He’s been dead for like a year and a half.”

(Y/N) turned and took a step. “That’s not the issue Alex!” She spun back around and hissed, “Bruce Wayne was Batman.”

“Keyword was. Not anymore.”

“I don’t give a shit. If Bruce Wayne was Batman, then there’s a very strong chance that there’s still defenses laid around the grounds.”

“In that pile of rubble? Not likely, but that’s why I need you to help me.”

“No,” (Y/N) declared. “I’m not going anywhere near that place.”

Alex let out a sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. “And why not? You never really liked Batman. Didn’t he put you in jail once or twice?”

“Bruce Wayne was a good man that did his best to help this city whether he was dressed as Batman or not.” She affirmed. “He saved people, gave them jobs, helped them turn their lives around. No,” she shook her head. “I don’t want any part of this job, Alex. Now, later, or forever. I’m trying to do better, and you should too.”

Alex scoffed. “Oh please, getting tips for dressing like slutty Wonder Woman isn’t doing better (Y/N), and you know it.”

She ignored the insult and shrugged. “Maybe not, but I go to sleep at night knowing that I’m not going to get shot by Red Hood or some greedy gangbanger.”

At that, Alex paused and stared at her. “Are you really afraid of that prick?”

(Y/N) scowled. “That pricktook out Black Mask and his entire operation within twenty-four hoursthen immediately turned his attention on the rest of the scumbags in this city.” Taking a step towards him, she added, “He doesn’t break bones and leave you lying in pain like Batman did, Alex. He makes sure you don’t get up again. Ever. I’m not risking my neck for anything that’s stuck in Wayne’s basement.”

The man across from her was silent for a moment, then sighed. “I can’t sway you in any way?”

She yanked her hand out of her jacket pocket and flashed the knuckles around her hand. “I’d stop swaying and start running instead.”

Alex opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was, “Oh fuck!” then he spun around and hauled off like his ass was on fire.

(Y/N) stood there dumbfounded. Sure, she could be intimidating, but there was no way she was that scary. Instead of questioning it, she shrugged and shoved the folder into her skirt, then turned sharply on her heel to start on her way back to her apartment. Until she walked straight into someone’s chest.

She gasped as she stumbled backwards, knowing she was going to fall on her ass when strong hands grasped her upper arms, keeping her upright. (Y/N) looked up and met the very man she’d been talking about. Suddenly, Alex’s explicative and escape made perfect sense.

“Oh fuck!” she blurted out, and impulsively swung her knuckled fist at the jaw of his helmet. He caught her hand with an ease and spun her around, pressing her front up against the brick wall.

“Fuck me. Oh, fuck me,” she hissed, cursing herself for not telling Alex to stick it where the sun didn’t shine the second he found her. Now here she was about to get murdered by a trigger-happy vigilante with a grudge.

“Really? Right here? But someone could see us?” The humor in his tone drew a startled laugh from her and she pressed her cheek against the wall, so she could see him.

“I swear to God I don’t have anything to do with him. Fuck, I’ll tell you whatever you want about him and his plan if you don’t kill me.” (Y/N) sucked in a breath. “Please don’t kill me. I swear I stopped pulling heists after Halloween last year. I work a decent job. I keep my nose clean. I don’t get involved in that shit anymore. Please, God, don’t—”

“Will you stop talking for like ten seconds?” Red Hood griped, one hand leaving the grasp he had on her arms behind her back to feel around her middle.

“HEY!” she shouted, thrashing wildly. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!”

He pressed her harder to the wall. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Calm down.”

“I’ll calm down when you get your fucking hands out of my skirt your fucking pervert!” (Y/N) spat, leaning on one leg to kick at him with the other.

“All I want is what’s in your skirt,” he sighed and pressed one of his thighs against the one kicking him. “Christ,you’re a handful.”

“And you’re a fucking sicko!” she retorted indignantly. “Is this how you get your rocks off? Assaulting innocent women? You’re so fucking disgu—”

“Got it,” Red Hood declared, and yanked out the file she’d shoved in the side of her skirt. (Y/N) fell silent when he held it beside her head. “See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

She could tell he was smirking behind the red helmet and she scowled at him. “You’re fucked up, buddy.”

Shrugging, he flipped open the file and started reading. “Would’ve been easier if you hadn’t tried to run on me.”

“Well excuse me for thinking I was about to get murdered and having the initial instinct to haul ass.”

Red Hood chuckled at that, and despite how wrong the entire situation was, the low drawl made shivers go down her spine.

“Wanna tell me about your friend?” he coaxed and (Y/N) froze.

“He’s not my friend,” she suddenly protested. “I haven’t been around Alex since last year.”

“Really? You two seem fairly chummy.”

(Y/N) craned her neck to look at him. “We used to fuck when we worked together.”

“Mhm,” he hummed knowingly. “Lover’s spat then?”

Barking a laugh, she countered, “Like you wouldn’t believe.” She stared at him. “I got out when you started putting people down. Didn’t want to be a casualty.”

“That’ll do it,” he snickered. “So, you don’t know what Alex’s been up to since last year?”

“No, and I want it to stay that way, but he thinks that if he waves enough heists in my face, I’ll cave and run back to the money.” (Y/N) groaned and rested her head against the wall. “Look, I don’t know what he’s planning, and I don’t care. I don’t want anything to do with whatever that plan it. Honest to God.”

She gazed at him, feeling something akin to tears gathering in her vision, and pled, “Take the file. Hell, take all the money I’ve got in my purse if you want, just don’t kill me.” A single tear ran down her cheek. “Please, I’m begging you. I don’t wanna die now.”

Red Hood’s weight disappeared from her back and he murmured, “I’m not going to hurt you. I want the opposite in fact.” The honesty in his words made her body feel weak and her knees started to go out beneath her. “And there she goes.” He caught her before she fell.

Gently lowering her to the ground, he helped her sit against the wall. (Y/N) leaned her head back and let out a long sigh.

“Oh, thank God.”

He laughed. “Life flashing before your eyes?”

She gave a half-hearted smile. “You’ve got no idea.”

This time when he laughed, it was dark, and it made her stomach churn. “Actually, I do.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, then he knelt in front of her, handing her purse back to her.

“Here.”

(Y/N) took it with a nod and stared at him. “So, what happens now?”

He was quiet for a moment, then he waved the file. “I go stop your friends from digging around Batman’s home.”

“Good luck,” she replied, starting to her feet when he tutted.

“Ah-ah-ah.” He motioned for her to sit back down. “We’re not done yet.”

She grunted at him. “What do you want?”

“Information on your friends.”

(Y/N) felt her brows furrow. “Can’t you find that out yourself?”

Red Hood shrugged. “I could, but I’m always looking to make my job easier.” He observed her for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of hundred-dollar bills.

Waving it in front of her, he said, “You tell me what you used to do for them and what all they’ve got going on, and you can have this.”

(Y/N)’s jaw went tight as she stared at the roll. That could pay rent and bills for at least two months. She needed the money. Her eyes darted to the mask and she swiped for the roll, but he raised it out of her reach.

“Nope,” he ribbed. “Info first.”

“Ass,” she grumbled, but conceded with a sigh. “Fine. Have it your way.” (Y/N) clambered to her feet and dusted off her tacky skirt, watching as he did the same.

“Follow me to my apartment.” Before he could say a word, she thrust a finger into his chest. “And do it from the rooftops so people don’t see you.” Her face set in a glare. “I don’t need any unwanted guests trying to get in because they saw you following me.”

She started off when Red Hood grabbed her forearm, not harshly, but firm enough to make her stop and stare at him questioningly.

“What’s your name?”

She blinked, not expecting that. “It’s (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”

He nodded. “And what did they call you when you worked as a thief?”

(Y/N) huffed. “Not everyone has an alias, Red Hood.”

Chuckling, he retorted, “Yeah, but someone as pretty as you no doubt had one.”

She felt her stomach flutter at his flirt and her cheeks warmed as she looked away and replied, “They used to call me, ‘The Lady in Lace’.”

“The Lady in Lace?” he repeated, then stood next to her and pulled out a grappling gun. “Have a matching outfit, Lady Lace?”

(Y/N) shoved him in the side. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I think I’d rather see,” Red Hood flirted and pressed the button, shooting off towards the roof of the building.

It was gonna be a long night.

[youllallriseintheink]

A Worthwhile Investment, chapter 2

Please enjoy this Shawn x Grant story. It is a part of my canon.

Thankfully, Shawn and Grant were able to sneak out undetected. Shawn knew the warehouse Norman had told them to meet at- the one Lacie worked in, roughly two blocks from the studio and not visible from it. From there, they called a cab to take them to a bar (as Norman had promised and Shawn had reminded him) and declared themselves safe.

“Uh, sorry the raid was a bust,” Shawn said.

“It wasn’t.” Norman held up a set of keys. “I can go anywhere I want in the studio now, whenever. And I saw Sammy Lawrence wearing a Bendy mask. I knew it. I knew he was a part of this. I’m gonna crack this if it kills me.”

“Sure you will,” Lacie drawled. “Mind telling us why this is your choice of hobby? Like, why are you like this?” Shawn could tell that she was using her friendly cold, judgmental tone, which was different from her genuinely cold, judgmental tone. He hoped Norman could, too.

“Like I’d tell you. What, you think I’d ask for your life story just like that?”

“I’ll tell it. I ain’t got nothing to hide. I was born to two crack-addicted pieces of shit, so I learned to rely on the parents of neighbourhood kids on days they decided not to care for me. It was like that basically my entire life before my sister sorted herself out and I moved in with her. But it taught me I could take care of myself, so I didn’t mind moving with Bertrum wherever he went, and I didn’t cry when he retired.”

“And it’s a good thing he retired, or I might not’ve met Lacie when ah did. Bein’ an immigrant, away from home for the first time an’ barely speaking teh language- it woulda been real lonely otherwise. Of course, Ah make friends easy, but I’m still glad she was one'a them.”

Lacie’s sharp eyes landed on Grant. They’d only met once before and neither had been too comfortable with the other. “And what about you, Grant? Anything interesting in your past?”

“Oh, no. Normal upbringing. Parents who loved me. Nothing special.” It was lame, but it was the truth.

The four of them kept chatting for about an hour.

How did I end up surrounded by the three strongest people I know? Grant wondered. Most of his friends growing up had been cousins or kids of family friends, and his social circle hadn’t diversified much since, until he met Shawn and Norman. Comparatively, these three were freaks. But they were all so respectable, and honestly, Shawn and Norman were some of the best friends he’d ever had.

Life in general had given Grant a lot to be thankful for as of late. The early thirties had been hard on him- after the stock market crashed, he’d gone through a job loss, the collapse of his marriage, some domestic abuse, his divorce, and losing custody of his children. But now? Things were alright. He had a new job, and the studio was, generally speaking at least, holding steady financially. Against all odds, his daughters seemed to be fine living with their mother- maybe she had been serious about working on herself for them. Grant cherished the time he did have with them, and though he hated to admit it, he was much happier divorced. And of course, now he had these two. It was while he was there, listening to the three of them talk, that he realized that he was currently the most content he’d been in years.

Shawn had had a few drinks by that point, and leaned on Grant as though he intended to fall asleep on him.

“I think I should take Shawn home. Norman, can we talk about something tomorrow? In the projector booth.”

“Of course,” Norman said. Something in the way he said it told Grant that he already knew what it would be about.

---

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” Norman asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“It’s about Shawn,” Grant started. How much to say? He figured that Norman knew he was gay- very little escaped Norman’s notice, after all- but maybe Norman was only okay with that because he didn’t act on it.

“You know Sammy Lawrence?” Norman mused, looking through the window into the music room. “For a long time, he was dating his- very much male, I should mention- lyricist. I saw them making out once- this gorgeous pretty boy and this middle-aged marshmallow- I guess love is blind and all that. I’ve got no damning evidence of it, but I’d bet anything that Joey Drew is gay as well. And I could go on! This studio has more queer people than you would believe, and my powers tell me about more than just existential dreads.” There was a pause. Norman turned back to look at Grant. “So. As a living lie-detector, one of the best gaydars you’ll ever see on a straight man, and your best friend of over half a decade who would never betray you... you can tell me anything about what’s going on with him.”

Grant gave a sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you’re okay with this. And yes, I’m considering dating Shawn.”

“Great. He likes you- I could tell.”

“Thanks. But I already knew- he kissed me suddenly about ten days ago. I didn’t know how to react, and I kind of froze up, and I told him that I liked him, but I needed to think about whether we could be together. Up until last night, I thought I’d tell him ‘no-’ I just hadn’t had the willpower to yet. And then I had an epiphany.”

“What was the epiphany?”

“I realized that I respect a bunch of very unconventional people- yourself included- so it’s okay that I’m not perfectly conventional. But... even if it’s not inherently wrong, the idea of acting on it still scares me. If my mother ever found out, it would break her heart. My father would be humiliated if anyone else knew about it, and he might not want to speak to me again. And if it got to my ex-wife, she’d do anything she could to keep me away from my kids- she might even report me. I don’t have to worry about any of that if I don’t act on it. I don’t know... is it even responsible to risk it? These are people I have obligations to. Is it worth it?”

“Well, only you can choose that. But don’t you want a chance at actual love? I mean, I sure like having a loving partner. Why give that up over the risk that someone else might find out?”

“I guess you’re right. Shawn could be my only opportunity for a while. I really don’t know if I want to get involved in whatever culture gay men have going on. If the stereotypes are true, I’d be walking into a group of dangerous people looking to take advantage of a naïve outsider. Of course, they might not be true, but I don’t want to just walk in without knowing. And anyhow, I wouldn’t know how to find anything like that if I tried.”

Norman nodded, taking some time to process everything he’d said. “Alright. Look- you’re overcomplicating a bunch of simple problems by rolling them together into one big problem. Just take it one issue at a time. You want your family to be happy? Make them happy, and don’t worry about something that won’t hurt them. Any partner you might have will know that this kind of thing has to be kept secret, and New York is a big city- you can hide it. You want to date Shawn? Date Shawn. I can tell he makes you happy. You don’t want to get into gay culture without knowing what it’s like? Then don’t. I don’t know anything about their culture, but you have no idea how many gay men are here at Joey Drew Studios. Plenty of people you can ask about it to decide if it’s your thing.”

“Wow. Thank you. You really made that all sound so simple.” Norman had a way of cutting straight to the point.

“Yeah. You’re gonna be okay. Heck, even if you decide not to have a love life after Shawn, I’m glad you’ll be doing it because you’re risk-adverse and not because you’re still ashamed.”

“Thanks again. Now I need to go find Shawn.”

In the end, Grant couldn’t find Shawn before it was time to get back to work, so the next day he left a note in his locker with some flowers. Like a schoolboy. Ridiculous. But that was how Shawn made him feel.

Over the next few years, their relationship went on, and off, and on again. They fought, probably more than the average couple. But overall, they were glad to have each other. It was worth it.    

[waterforlorn]

day fourteen. october 20th. we found a pretty nice hotel in wyoming on our way back from mount rushmore. sure it was a detour, but it was worth it, i feel. i enjoyed it. never really had the opportunity to … explore the country. better late than never, i guess. don't think nico did a lot of sightseeing before either. it's relaxing, i wanna say.

just him, me.. vast country. i enjoy it greatly, but i do miss camp. i miss the thrill of fighting. sure, we sparred, but it isn't the same. and yeah, fighting's a risk, but i know he and i can make it. we got each other and we tend to not go alone either, so we got a team, too. we got each other's backs. we'll be fine. i believe in us.

so, this hotel. not sure how we paid for it, but i like it here. it's fancier than the motels we've been staying in and the view… is stunning. it's nothing special, really. like, nothing fancy to see… just .. nature. huge forest, mountains. i feel so calm when i see it. we spent last night curled up on the floor, wrapped in blankets and just … watched sundown. guess i can no longer deny i like… cuddling, which is definitely nico's fault. he's so clingy and wraps around me every chance he gets. guess my body got kinda used to it, so now it thinks that cuddling is good. yeah, for sure. not my fault. i woke up feeling fucking sixty, so that's not happening again. who even thought sleeping while sitting is smart?

our next stop wasn't the interstate. nico had yet another surprise in store. we headed south to colorado. first stop was denver. the botanic garden? uh, most for nico than me, i guess. not that it was bad, but stuff like that ain't for me. like.. i know the flowers are pretty and all, but .. i can't being myself to care. thank fuck my dad isn't demeter. woulda been awkward. nothing against flowers and plants. although, kit would've probably had a great time here.

i do miss the little shits in camp. everybody always told me to open up and try liking people, but it's not as easy as that sounds. i can't just look at someone and decide i don't hate them. sure, standard setting being i don't give a fuck about you isn't ideal, but it's far from where i used to be. i used to hate the world and everybody in it. some of these kids… are more than that to me. don't know how it happened, but i'm stuck caring about them, i guess.

like fucking nico. insert a lot of scribbling that's crossed out

next stop was the desert. yeah, i asked him if he was sure. he was. he really was. i worried for a moment, but no. he knew where he brought me. it was fucking incredible. there's a huge-ass amphitheatre in the middle of like… cliffs and mountains. red rocks park. i know nobody is reading this but i recommend it. we watched some play in the evening, no idea what it was about, but nico seemed to like it.

and then camping, in a tent. yeah. actual camping after hiking for like 2 hours through the night. tent was comfy and we roasted some meat over a fire, but …i mean, neither of us slept much. no regrets, though. we're about to hike back to the car and get back on the road.

wonder what he's got planned next. yep, i said it. it's over for me, i'm not escaping this roadtrip anymore.

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

Okay but let’s talk about the opening of Fallout 4

And I’m not talking about the part where you gotta pantomime your way through a half-hour of BS at least before you’re actually allowed to step out into the world and get shite started [seriously Bethesda, if you’re gonna keep making openings like this, please include a ‘get to the point’ option and stop making modders do it for you. First time it’s interesting, second time it’s mind-numbing.] I’m talking about when you roll up on the museum and have to help out Preston and the gang-- and I’m just gonna rant for a few paragraphs here so here’s a read-more cut so I don’t clog up dashes too badly. 

Fallout 4 never gives you the chance to value human life. 

Fallout 3 had this issue as well, but it’s even more glaring in 4 because in 3 an order came down for your death. When you aren’t given a choice, what you’re doing can at least be penciled in as self-defense. 4 expects you to devalue raiders and treat them as unreasonable threats, to see them as a shooting gallery and nothing else... but there’s a serious problem with the framing.

You made me pantomime being a normal person for the first 30 min to hour of your experience, and now you’re telling me a normal person can just pick up a gun and start popping people with no moral issues. 

This is required to even get close enough to talk to Preston. He might take out all the raiders if you’re willing to wait 20 minutes, but when you put yourself into the role play head space of a character, what kind of person ducks behind the sandbags and waits for the dude with the laser to pick everyone off? And there is no force preventing you from simply running away, this is true-- but doing so simply removes your ability to interact with what is a core mechanic of the game a-la the minutemen and establishing settlements. So if you wanna keep the game experience intact, and follow along with the mission? Murder is required, without any time taken out to consider the value of human life or if that murder is justified, or if your character is capable of that kind of violence. 

To say I dislike this headspace in shooters, that whomever the denoted ‘bad’ group is are just okay to treat as squishy playthings, more so in shooters that try to integrate choice and morality, is a massive understatement. There are plenty of other things in the commonwealth that could threaten a group of settlers that aren’t people, and framing us as a normal person [PARTICULARLY IF YOU PLAY AS ‘NORA’ WHO WAS NOT A MILITARY MEMBER] who is just immediately ready for this is ASSUMPTIVE BULLSHIT. More so when you remember that if you played as ‘Nate’ this dissonance would be less-- it assumes a male audience who would choose the male protagonist, and his military service makes this opening a lot smoother. But when you don’t? It becomes batshit insane. Your average lawyer is not ready to just pick up a gun and wreck people, even when there are innocents on the line. 

So, if ya like, I’m gonna propose an ‘alternate’ idea for what this mission could have been that would have kept all the same elements. The raiders, the power armor, the deathclaw-- but not forced the player character directly into murder. 

Step 1: Finding Dogmeat. 

When we find Dogmeat, he appears to be just... wandering the gas station? And yeah, he’s in our path, but Mama Murphy appears to think that Dogmeat went and found you, so let’s take that a step further. Let’s say Dogmeat actually ran and found you-- that he spawns into the world when you get past the footbridge, and no matter where you go from there Dogmeat will find and bark at you. That no matter how you treat him, Dogmeat will try to lead you to Concord and ruin your stealth by running in circles around you and barking if you try to go the wrong way. That this pupper is trying to find someone to help his group, he found you. 

Step 2: The approach.

So say we follow Dogmeat, who leads us to where the raiders and Preston’s group are in standoff. And yeah, sure, we pass the main road where they’re all sandbagged up, but Dogmeat leads us around back to a rear entrance the raiders have not yet realized exists. Possibly a fire escape that has a ladder that could be released from above that was pulled up when Preston and co hunkered down. While, yes, the player could choose to engage the raiders at this point, deciding they’ve seen enough and take on the museum from the front? Going around, Dogmeat barking, and Mama appearing to let the ladder down because she probably knew you were coming gives you a non-violent in. Why haven’t the group left? There’s too many of them to just sneak out, Mama is old and slow, and Jun is nearly catatonic. No changes have to be made to the group to make that path out non-viable, it’s simply a way for you to get in, speak to Preston, and understand what the fuck we’re dealing with here without the one and only solution being kill everyone-- though the power armor is posited as something that might be helpful in a show of force to get the raiders to fuck the fuck off. 

Step 3: The Raiders.

Banditry is not something ‘bad people’ do. It is an act of desperation. The idea that all the raiders are just the most repugnant people on the planet, and there appears to be no fuckin’ end to them is the same flavor of bullshit that’s used in all that war on drugs propaganda 50′s politicians were so high on. The idea of ‘Oh, the raiders are just bad people, so it’s okay to shoot at them’ ignores that they are people. People with lives. People with motivations. People who had their own path that led to where they are and what they’re doing. And what motivates a person to this kind of violence?

Starvation, usually. And I’ll be the first to say I don’t make great decisions when I’m hungry, either, but let’s dig a little deeper on this. Let’s step into the role of the leader of a raider group for a few seconds, get into this head space, and think about what’s going down with Preston’s group. 

Imagine that I am a leader of a raider band. Let’s imagine that it started as me and a friend getting forced out of Diamond city, possibly given exile, because we couldn’t find work and decided to steal some food. The lack of work was no fault of our own; me and my friend may not have known the right people, or had the right skill sets, or been willing to take work that risked our lives as if we were worth nothing. Maybe we survived on good will for a while, but after so many hungry days got desperate, held up the Dugout for all the caps they had, or stole food from the general store, and tried to run with the take before we got caught. Whether we were caught, stripped of our gains, and then thrown out, or we got away-- we now have a place we can’t go anymore, and are at the mercy of the outside world. Are we bad? Are we bad because we were starving to death and desperate? Am I bad for coming up with a not great plan but at least trying to take action rather than just quietly dying in a gutter? I just wanted to eat. So now me and my friend are drifters, and we stick together because we’re all we got. And maybe we meet another drifter here, and another one there, and on some hungry night someone gets the idea that hey, if we all jump out from the side of the road and threaten a trader, maybe they’ll drop some of their stock without a fight?

We don’t want caps. We want food. We can’t spend the caps, and we don’t wanna get into a fight because none of us can get treatment-- we’re exiles and criminals. We don’t want blood, we want to eat.

So we threaten a trader, and that goes well-- we got supplies! But those supplies don’t erase our records. We still need to live, and this food is only gonna last so long. The traders know about us now, they talk-- even if we got money, who the hell would trust us? No one, that’s who. Even better, sounds like our little hold-up horned in on some other group’s territory that we didn’t even know about, and they ain’t happy with us. We all have guns, but none of us have ever killed anyone. None of us want to. We just wanted to eat.

So did the other group. They just wanted to eat, too, but they saw us horning in on their territory. Their take. Those supplies belonged to them. They have mouths to feed. More than us, probably. We stole from them, and all we wanted was to eat. 

Whatever happens next is desperate, and it’s a baptism in blood. It’s a process of alienation. While there may be a select few who are actually out of their gourd and enjoy the violence, the majority of people who engage in banditry are desperate and hungry. 

So what the hell does this have to do with the group holding up Preston’s group?

By all rights, Preston’s group does not have anything a gang of raiders wants. Even if they’re far enough along that caps have value to them again, able to do trade with their own network, injuries are expensive and often lead to permanent disability because these groups lack consistent access to medical supplies and knowledge, and fatalities means your crew is down an important and useful member. SO WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY WANT? 

In the canon encounter, what they want is nothing. They want to wipe out Preston’s group because the game said so [I think there’s a terminal entry about it later, like they’re getting paid or something, but no payment is worth getting wiped out the way they did, and you don’t run a group that big on blind arrogance alone. Gristle woulda been displaced by then. All the caps in the world aren’t worth your life; you can’t feed dead crew members, and greed is useless when you’re blacklisted from all the settlements with any sense of luxury] They exist to shoot at. But when we ascribe motivation to them, what the fuck do they want? 

The power armor. 

It’s a tool; something that would change the balance of power in the area, make other groups think twice and lower the chance of losses when trying to gain supplies. Screw wiping these morons out, there’s only five of them left-- hold them at stand-off for a day or so until someone breaks and asks to negotiate, make them drop everything they’ve got as the toll for getting out, and then the group steps in to take the prize. There’s no need for anyone to get shot, just gotta starve ‘em out a little and then let them run with their lives. 

Step 4: The Death Claw

So we have a stand-off situation that could... probably be pretty easily negotiated through without major loss of life. Your player character is a third party, after all. Opens up some non-lethal ways of doing things if you wanna convince Preston and co to give up all their stuff if it means getting out with their lives. Likewise, a high speech character could possibly go to Gristle and convince him that you’ve seen the power armor and it’s wrecked, no worth the effort he’s spending on bottling this crew up, and the men he’s probably already lost in the process. Or maybe a character with high intelligence could work with Sturges to sabotage the power armor, handing it over to the raiders knowing that in a day or two it’ll fall apart. All of these make for some interesting shades-of-gray choices...

Then the deathclaw shows up. In the middle of negotiation. Everyone gets forced up to the upper floor; no time to kill each other, there’s a giant murder machine prowling around the lobby and it is only a matter of time before it climbs up to the second floor and starts ripping out walls and doors to get at people.

This could have served to make the situation even more interesting-- if you’d gone aggro in the beginning and started killing raiders in the streets, you have less people to deal with a massive threat that could kill the fuck out of you. If you’d been in the middle of convincing the raiders to take a sabotaged set of power armor, you’d have to explain to them why the power armor isn’t gonna help you... or let Gristle take it and get murdered when it freezes up and leaves him stranded to get ripped out of the can and munched. Is that murder? How’s the player feel about that? Meanwhile, if you hadn’t killed anyone and were in the middle of negotiating a bloodless solution, you might have a chance of unifying everyone to take down the deathclaw-- possibly with a future bonus that Gristle and his crew wanna go straight and giving you the choice to set them up within your settlement system, or becoming yet another ‘civilized’ system that won’t work with them because they’re too far gone. 

...................... I may have to write another fic just to explore these ideas in a modified canon.