destroying something beautiful

Do you really think Noct would take something as broken as you back…?

Those who know me, know that I tend to hurt the chars I like the most :’)  smts I think I’m like that fight club quote “I just want to destroy something beautiful”. Oh well. Another scene of imprisoned!Prompto. this time with Ardyn, torturing his mind more than his body. I think, this whole time frame will be also the dlc content of Prompto’s dlc. (for Gladio it’ll be when he’s gone to do “his business” n for Iggy,… the time in Altissia is a bit too short despite the heavy impact it had. So maybe smth of the 10 years he had to learn to deal with his blindness? #Dardevil!Ignis)

Another piece that broke my back n that I like quite a lot. Hence, you can find it in my Etsy shop ;)

Non-Essential Data

9S and 21O get frustrated with the fact that 2B and 6O won’t ask each other out.  Dating: HACKED.

“Pod, what data do you have on this?” 2B’s voice seemed normal enough, or it would’ve if 9S hadn’t been working with her long enough to recognize the slight hint of excitement in her voice.

“This species of plant was commonly referred to as ‘lilac’ by humanity,” came Pod 042’s monotone reply. 9S couldn’t help but attribute a degree of amusement to the Pod’s response, though he knew he was imagining it.

“Take an image and transmit the data to 6O.”

“Working… data transmission complete.”

9S sighed, “How many is that now?”

“Unit 2B has cataloged and transmitted visual data on 179 flowering plant species to Operator 6O,” Pod 153 responded.

“It was a rhetorical question Pod.” 9S shook his head. “2B?”

The android turned to her partner, the slight upward curve of her lips quickly replaced by a look of concern.  “What is it?”

“You’ve been sending 6O a lot of pictures of flowers… are you ever gonna–”

“Going to what?”

“Y'know…” 9S paused, “ask her out?

2B recoiled as if burned.  “What?! No… of course not.  I couldn’t. I’m just…”

“…sending her pictures of every flower we come across?”

2B scoffed, her usual emotionless mask slipping back into place. “It’s important to ensure that my operator’s morale is high in order to maintain mission effectiveness.”

“Yeah, yeah… morale… mission effectiveness.  Got it.”

Keep reading


’ Lose an hour, gain an hour. ’
’ This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time. ’
’ Do you hear me now? ’
’ Okay, I got it. Shit, I lost it. ’
’ Fuck off with your sofa units and strine green stripe patterns. ’
’ Guys, what would you wish you’d done before you died? ’
’ What are you doing? ’
’ Fight Club was the beginning. ’
’ Turn the wheel now, come on! ’
’ You have to know the answer to this question! ’
’ If you died right now, how would you feel about your life? ’
’ I wouldn’t feel anything good about my life, is that what you want to hear me say? ’
’ Now, a question of etiquette - as I pass, do I give you the ass or the crotch? ’
’ I didn’t create some loser alter-ego to make myself feel better. ’
’ Hey, you created me. ’
’  Take some responsibility! ’
’ This is it - ground zero. ’
’ Would you like to say a few words to mark the occasion? ’
’ People are always asking me if I know, _______. ’
’ With a gun barrel between your teeth, you speak only in vowels. ’
’ I can’t think of anything. ’
’ I wonder how clean that gun is. ’
’ Ah… flashback humor. ’
’ This is crazy… ’
’ People do it everyday, they talk to themselves… ’
’ Fuck damnation, man! Fuck redemption! ’
’ Listen, you can run water over your hand and make it worse… ’
’ Look at me… or you can use vinegar and neutralize the burn. ’
’ First you have to give up, first you have to know… not fear… ’
’ Candy-stripe a cancer ward. It’s not my problem. ’
’ You know why they put oxygen masks on planes? ’
’ In a catastrophic emergency, you’re taking giant panicked breaths. ’
’ That’s, um… That’s an interesting theory. ’
‘ I’ve got a stomachful of Xanax. ’
’ I took what was left of a bottle. It might have been too much. ’
’ Your whacked out bald freaks hit me with a fucking broom! ’
’ It’s getting exciting now, two and one-half. ’
’ I ask you for one thing, one simple thing. ’
’ Now answer me, why do people think that I’m you. ’
’ Why do people think that I’m you? Answer me! ’
’ Why would anyone possibly confuse you with me? ’
’ My God. I haven’t been fucked like that since grade school. ’
’ I am Jack’s smirking revenge. ’
’ Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who’ve ever lived. ’
’ I see all this potential, and I see squandering. ’
’ All the ways you wish you could be, that’s me. ’
’ I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck. ’
’ I am free in all the ways that you are not. ’
’ They’re gonna have to open my pecs again to drain the fluid. ’
’ It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything. ’
’ What’s the smell? ’
’ Is that your blood? ’
’ Oh, it’s late. Hey, thanks for the beer. ’
’ I should find a hotel. ’
’ Three pitchers of beer, and you still can’t ask. ’
’ You call me because you need a place to stay. ’
’ Yes, you did. So just ask. Cut the foreplay and just ask. ’
’ Would - would that be a problem? ’
’ Can I stay at your place? ’
’ Is it a problem for you to ask? ’
’ You’ll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. ’
’ I felt like destroying something beautiful. ’
’ You’re not how much money you have in the bank. ’
’ You’re not the contents of your wallet. You’re not your fucking khakis. ’
’ You’re the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world. ’
’ When you have insomnia, you’re never really asleep… ’
’ Listen up, maggots. You are not special. ’
’ You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. ’
’ You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. ’
’ On a long enough timeline, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero. ’
’ The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. ’
’ Man, you’ve got some fucked up friends, I’m tellin’ ya. ’
’ The things you own end up owning you. ’
’ Well, what do you want me to do? You just want me to hit you? ’
’ C'mon, do me this one favor. ’
’ How much can you know about yourself, you’ve never been in a fight? ’
’ I don’t wanna die without any scars. ’
’ So come on; hit me before I lose my nerve. ’
’ Who gives a shit? No one’s watching. What do you care? ’
’ Whoa, wait, this is crazy. You want me to hit you? ’
’ Motherfucker! You hit me in the ear! ’
’ Strangers with this kind of honesty make me go a big rubbery one. ’
’ God Damn! We just had a near-life experience, fellas. ’
’ Like a monkey, ready to be shot into space. Space monkey!  ’
’ Ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good. ’
’ Are there a lot of these kinds of accidents? ’
’ One could make all kinds of explosives, using simple household items. ’
’ How’s that working out for you? ’
’ You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh. ’
’ This is not the worst thing that can happen. ’
’ There are things about you that I like. ’
’ Yeah, you’re sorry, I’m sorry, everybody’s sorry. ’
’  I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. And I won’t. I’m gone. ’
’ You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re… spectacular in bed… But you’re intolerable! ’
’ You have very serious emotional problems. ’
’ Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken. ’
’ You’re not getting this back. I consider it asshole tax. ’
’ Why? So you can pretend like you’re interested? ’
’ Do not watch. I cannot go when you watch. ’
’ I’ve got some good news: I no longer have any fear of death. ’
’ I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery acid. ’
’ After fighting, everything else in your life got the volume turned down. ’
’ Well, technically, I have more of a right to be there than you. ’
’ It’s cheaper than a movie, and there’s free coffee. ’
’ Look, nobody takes this more seriously than me. ’
’ You need to forget about what you know, that’s your problem. ’
’ You met me at a very strange time in my life. ’
’ Life insurance pays off triple if you die on a business trip. ’
’ Yes, these are bruises from fighting. ’
’ I got this dress at a thrift store for one dollar. ’
’ Someone loved it intensely for one day, and then tossed it. ’
’ The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide. ’
’ You don’t know where I’ve been. ’
’ You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. ’
’ Would you excuse me? I need to take this. ’
’ Uh, well… You’re not gonna believe this… ’
’ I know it seems like I have more than one side sometimes… ’
’ I’ll carry you - kicking and screaming - and in the end you’ll thank me. ’
’ Every evening I died, and every evening I was born again, resurrected. ’
’ When people think you’re dying, they really, really listen to you, instead of just… waiting for their turn to speak. ’

Your… Your leg

Saturday Morning (Grayson)

Written by: @keepcalmandlovepotter

Summary: Alyssa is new to L.A. and has a few secrets she’s rather keep to herself. When a famous YouTube star meets her, it changes the course of her life forever.

A/N: This was a submission and this is NOT MY STORY

Saturday mornings are my favorite. 

That’s when I go down to the massive bookstore downtown at The Grove and read. I’ll get a new book, read a few chapters in the store before I buy it, and head home before it gets dark. I never worked Saturdays, and my boss knew that this was why. She knew that it kept me sane to just spend a little time once a week reading, indulging in my greatest fantasies and worst nightmares.

Saturdays were never not for reading. That may be a double negative and literately unsound but it’s cool - the kids talk like that these days, right? Whether it was a rainy Saturday and I sat by the window ledge, wearing an oversized sweatshirt with Edgar Allen Poe or H.P. Lovecraft (as rare as those were) or it was a gloriously sunny Saturday and I sat outside with an iced green tea from the cafe with my long blonde hair tied up in a messy bun and enjoyed the sun.

But this particular Saturday morning changed my life. Oh my god, that’s so cheesy, Alyssa. YEAH. YEAH IT IS. The truth is often covered in cheese. Deal with it. 

It was a beautiful Saturday in late March. There was a breeze, and it wasn’t a warm one, but L.A. was never actually cold per se. Being from Rhode Island, I missed the bitter winters sometimes. Especially when the temperature in L.A. would rise above 90 and stay there for a few days in the dead of summer. But I always considered my cross-country move to be a good thing. 

I graduated early from high school. At age 12 and a half, I was one of the youngest people in the country with a high school diploma. My name was in the news almost constantly for about 9 months. They called me “The New Einstein”. Many universities sent me brochures and info packets, hoping to attract yet another child genius. When my mother looked at the pamphlet from Harvard, she tried for two weeks to sell me on it, since it was just over an hour away from home. “You could even commute if you really wanted to!” 

This earned her the most earnest ‘are-you-fucking-kidding-me?’ look I’d ever given her. It was always her and me. Well, and my siblings, but since I was the baby, I was the closest to my mom. My only sister and I didn’t get along until we both moved out of the house. My five brothers liked to use me as the ball when they played outside and I was often the butt of their jokes and pranks. My father picked up and left not long after I was born. 

My mother wanted me to go to college right away, but I refused. I knew that if I did, it would only set me on a path to becoming a female Doogie Howser, and I didn’t want that. I wanted to experience my childhood, be a teenager, have some fun and get into a reasonable amount of trouble. College and careers would still be there when I was the same age as my peers. 

I also wanted to experience those formative years in a place where nobody knew me and I could just be a kid. I told my mother when I was 16 that I wanted to move to L.A. She looked at me like I had just told her I aspired to be the Pope. It took a lot of convincing and planning, but she finally caved after I got my license. I was mature enough to do this on my own, and she knew it. I found a small place just outside the main part of the city and I moved just before my 17th birthday. 

The truth was that I had no idea what kind of direction I wanted to take my life in, and I thought, on this side of the country, with nobody bothering me about it, I could sort it out for myself. I might’ve even moved back home if I hadn’t fallen in love with California. 

About a week after I moved, I found a job busing tables and making coffee and lattes at a small cafe downtown, a coffee shop with strict regulars and lots of tourists. The manager found out about my little secret when ran my background check and she understood why I was there. She hired me and kept my secret well.

Saturdays were always my day off. I always had so much going on in my head that if I didn’t sit down and think through it regularly, I’d have a nervous breakdown. “Manual overload” my mother would call it. 

“Nah, she’s just a freak,” my oldest brother Andrew would say. I never paid him much mind. My mom said he was a little too much like our dad, which made me hate him a little, and I think he knew it.

I was sitting on the floor, so enthralled in a book I’d picked up that I hadn’t even made it to a table. Stephen King’s IT. I had always wanted to read it, but I never found the time before now. It was a massive book, over 1,000 pages and my mother had deemed it unimportant to my education, so it had to be put on hold. I was already a chapter and a half in when someone tripped over my feet, causing them to fall flat on their face with a loud thud. 

I tossed the book aside and frantically crawled over to the person lying on the ground, putting a hand on his shoulder as he laid face down on the carpeted floor. 

“OH MY GOD, ARE YOU OKAY? I’m so sorry, I was reading and I didn’t see you, and I’m so sorry, are you -” I shut my mouth when he turned to sit on the floor beside me and hold his head in his hand. 

“No, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. You didn’t mean to do it.”

I honestly had to take a breath because this boy, with only a gaze, had just knocked the wind out of me. He looked at me, now eye-level with him, the two of us sitting on the ground in an aisle, and my heart stopped. I mean it literally stopped for a moment. I almost gasped for air, I was so taken aback. 

His eyes were the most beautiful hazel color. I normally didn’t like hazel eyes, but his threw me off, like they weren’t supposed to be amazing by design, but they wound up that way anyway. And then he smiled at me, and it was as if the very concept of “good” took on a new meaning. It was positively earth-shattering. 

“Are you okay?”

His words shook me out of my daydream (day-coma) of he and I living in the suburbs with three kids and a big beautiful house and a dog and a yard, and I snapped back to the present.

“OH. Yeah. No, yeah, I’m fine.” I nodded, not knowing what else to say, but feeling too uncomfortable to just sit in silence with this work of art.

“That’s good, I’m glad. I’m Grayson.” He offered me his hand, that was previously on his forehead, to shake and I gasped. He had a small rug burn on his eyebrow where he fell. I didn’t even take his hand to shake. Both my hands went up to my mouth to cover it, to keep from screaming at myself for destroying something so beautiful, even in this minute way.

“Oh, gosh, you’ve got a scrape on your…” I reached up to examine it and wound up grazing it by accident. He flinched and reached up to touch it too, to see if he was bleeding. Our hands brushed and my heart stopped momentarily for a second again.

“Wow, I guess I do,” he replied a little dumb-founded. We sat there staring at each other before my brain began to work again.

“Let me buy you a drink - a coffee or a smoothie or something - and get you some ice from the cafe. It’s the least I could do,” I insisted, trying to focus singularly on the scrape above his left eyebrow and not on the beautiful human who was wearing it. 

“Only if I can buy you one too,” he said with a grin. That grin, that smile. It was unfair. It was inhumane to be exposed to someone so physically flawless. 

Alyssa, will you fuckin’ get a hold of yourself?! Christ, it’s not like you knocked over Jesus of Nazareth himself, ya weirdo.

I rolled my eyes at my own internal monologue before helping him to his feet and nodding, biting my lower lip gently.

“Yeah, I think I could allow that,” I said, trying not to seem as nervous as I was. As he started to walk toward the cafe, I reached down to pick up my book and walked behind him. I tripped on my own shoelace that had become untied when he fell. I caught myself quickly and stood up straight, smiling nervously as he turned back to look at me. 

“You okay?” He asked. I nodded wordlessly and we stood at the counter together, our hands resting on the cool marble, staring up at the menu.

“What should I get?” He asked, and I wasn’t sure if he was just thinking out loud or actually asking for my opinion.
“I really like the iced green tea here,” I offered, looking over at him. He flashed that smile again and I had to grip the counter top to keep my knees from giving out underneath me. 

“Good idea.” He turned back to the waiting barista. “Two iced green teas, please.”
“And some ice?” I suggested with half a chuckle, remembering his scrape.

“Oh, yeah. An extra cup of ice would be great, thanks.” The barista smiled and picked up three cups, marking them accordingly with a black sharpie.

“Can I have your names?”

“Well,” he began, placing his hand on his well-defined chest. “Like I said, I’m Grayson, and this is…”
“Alyssa.” My voice cracked slightly. It was barely above a whisper. I could feel my face turning red as his smile grew wider.

“Alyssa…” he repeated thoughtfully.

The barista nodded and marked our names on the clear plastic cups, her co-worker fixing them for us. Before I could reach for my wallet, Grayson had already paid for both drinks. I frowned and put the book on the counter. 

“Hey! I was supposed to buy yours!” I protested. He laughed quietly.

“You can get the second round, how does that sound?” He suggested and I made a small, unamused sound, which only served to make him chuckle again.

We moved to the edge of the counter where the sugar and straws and lemons were kept, waiting patiently. 

“You a big Stephen King fan?” His voice seemed to come out of nowhere. It surprised me a little

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, actually. I’m really into horror right now. Couldn’t tell you why.” I said with a shrug, looking down at the the book. A creepy clown smile stretched across the off-white paperback cover. “What about you? What were you here to get?” I asked.

“I was just actually just looking around. I’ve never been in here before and my brother is busy with his girlfriend all day, so I figured I’d hang out at The Grove. I’m actually kinda glad I tripped over you - I was gonna be bored all day with no one to talk to.”

I blushed an even deeper color and I chuckled, trying not to let out my embarrassingly loud laugh. The last thing I wanted was to scare him off with my insane cackle. It had definitely happened before, so I had to keep a lid on it.

“Well, I planned on spending the day here, but I could always go for a walk.” I caught myself. “If…you know, if you were still interested in some company.” I tacked on the ending very quickly, not wanting to seem too desperate. But he smiled again and I breathed a sigh of relief. 

“That actually sounds perfect,” he replied as the barista handed us two iced green teas with our names on the cups and another cup half filled with ice. We sat down at a small table with two chairs and chatted until we finished our tea and Grayson’s ice had melted. We recycled our cups and I paid for my book and put it in my backpack before we headed outside into the rest of the large outdoor mall. 

I cursed myself mentally for being so automatically, physically attracted to him. It wasn’t something that happened to me often and it really caught me off guard. I never spent much time thinking about boys or love or relationships - I was always so focused on either academics, my “hobbies” (which only served to puff up my resume), or my family that it never really occurred to me that I was naturally pretty and could easily get a boyfriend. 

I had long, wavy blonde hair, the kind that some girls would have to spend an entire day at the beach to get, and big, ocean blue eyes with a green ring around my pupil. I was short, but most guys seemed to like that sort of thing. As soon as I had moved out to California, the first thing I did was get a nose ring. A small stud in my left nostril complimented my heart-shaped face very nicely and the small stone glinted in the sun alongside my light-colored freckles.

As we walked, I learned more about Grayson - he had a twin brother named Ethan and the two of them ran a pretty successful YouTube channel. He was from New Jersey, his favorite color was green, and he loved ice cream. 

“Seems like we have a few things in common,” I joked, flashing him the most confident smile I could muster. He laughed and it reminded me of my own, purposefully subdued.

“Yeah, I guess we do!” He said and nudged my shoulder as we walked. When I looked over at him, he gave me a wink and I melted. I looked down at my black Vans and smiled to myself before the conversation picked up again. I told him about where I was from, and a little about my family. 

“FIVE?! I can barely stand having one! How did you deal with FIVE older brothers?!” He nearly shouted the first word and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah it was a test of patience. They liked to use me for target practice. It was a bruise-filled childhood,” I said and shrugged. 

“I bet.” He ran his hand through his hair as he contemplated the thought of dealing with four more of his own brother before shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, made me tough though,” I said, holding my arm up and flexing it, unable to hold back another laugh. He couldn’t either.

The two of us spent the rest of the day laughing at each other, just goofing off and walking around, making our way through stores. After having some pizza together, I realized the sun was starting to set, I let out a sigh and looked up at him.

“I should probably get going,” I said, a sad, unwilling twang in my voice. He frowned, but nodded, looking at the time on his phone. 

“Yeah, me too. Ethan should be back soon. He’s gonna wonder where I am.”

“You’ve been kidnapped!” I replied through a laugh. I could feel myself becoming more and more comfortable around him, my nerves starting to dull a bit. He rolled his eyes but laughed along with me. 

“Knowing Ethan, he’d probably land there.” 

The two of us stopped at the entrance to The Grove where it met the street and looked at each other, only half smiles on our faces. 

“Well Grayson, I had a fantastic Saturday.” I said with a sigh. He smiled at me and nodded.

“Me too. This has been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. We should do it again soon!” He suggested, pulling out his phone. “Would you mind if I got your number?”

“Not at all!” I replied, elated, almost physically buzzing with excitement. 

He handed me his device and I typed my number in.

“It’s a Rhode Island number, I haven’t gotten a new one yet,” I commented as I wrote my first name alongside the number, a winking emoji next to it. I handed it back to him and he looked down at the information and smiled, letting out a chuckle. 

“Cute,” he remarked, before slipping it in his pocket and looking back at me. “Well, I gotta get going. It was great meeting you, Alyssa.” He said, opening his arms for a hug. I shuffled forward and wrapped my arms around his torso. He closed his around my back, over my backpack and held my body close to his for a moment. He rested his chin on top of my head and I was certain he could feel my heart pounding against my chest. 

“I’m sorry I tripped you!” I said as we both took a step back and he smiled and shook his head.

“I’m glad you did,” he replied quietly, with that same smile that made me feel impossibly weak. He waved and began walking in the opposite direction, and I turned and headed for my apartment, feeling things I’d never felt before. 

Gayle Waters-Waters {Sentence Starters}

  • “I want this place looking like Disney on Ice in ONE minute!”
  • “We all need to look our best. That’s why I suggest we each wear two pantsuits.”
  • “So I get in my car and start flooring it in reverse down the highway, flipping the bird out my sunroof…”
  • “Look at me, I’m a monster. I’ve destroyed something beautiful.”
  • “I’m fine. Got a little singed in there, but not the end of the world.”
  • “So, I stole a pig, blamed _____ for it, and he/she spent a night in the big house.”
  • “I’ve never felt more out of place and more uncomfortable.”
  • “It’s the kind of embarrassment that you feel in your ass. Most embarrassment you feel in your stomach. This is ass embarrassment.”
  • “You see, I’d been up the past two days and nights trying to make a bread suit so I could sneak into the sold out crouton expo.”
  • “I’d take him out in the backyard and mess him up like a leaf pile.”
  • “Quiche is just pizza that went to private school.”
  • “Well, I got news for you asshole: I rigged that thing with C-4 so that when I go, it goes.”
  • “So, I black out from the rage. Then I come to covered in Hollandaise sauce.”
  • “Get rid of the couches! We can’t let people know we SIT!”
  • “If _____ rescued a pitbull, then I’m rescuing a shark!”
  • “I can’t go in until this song’s over!”
  • “This is a dish towel. We need a hand towel! What are we, BARBARIANS?”
  • “I won’t be for long if you keep looking so damn fine.”
  • “Nothing gets me hot like a decorative twig bundle.”
  • “What would you have done?”
  • “I called the Coast Guard and asked them to airlift me out, but they won’t.”
Fantastic Beasts meets Star Wars cont’d, part 3

Jacob Kowalski

Don’t do the thing, Kowalski.

Jacob can hear his grandma’s voice every time he is about to do something stupid, like when he enlists into the pilots academy after the civil war begins, or when he dives his fighter into the swarm of droids to save his friends, or when he organizes a break out in a prison camp after being captured when his fighter crashed. The break out is successful, and no one is even killed- just scraps and scratches and broken bones.

See, Nana, it doesn’t always end in disaster when I do the thing.

His Grandmother is not convinced.

Then the war ends and everything is more or less back to normal. There is the Empire, and the Rebels, but Jacob stays out of it because neither bother his planet too much- after all, it is a small mostly rural world far from any major trade routes or anything of remote importance. He delivers grain to the neighboring systems and even re-organizes a cargo hold in his ship to operate as a mini-bakery (he always loved the smell of fresh bread, and his pies are an instant success on every trade outpost he goes to-  freshly made bread is way better than dry rations or instant meals).

He hears his grandmother’s voice again when he sees her- a beautiful young woman hiding in a workshop he’s in and a squad of Stormtroopers searching the streets. His grandma’s voice gets louder when an awkward and shy-looking man comes out of nowhere and drags her, no, both of them, onto the street. The woman apparently knows how to read minds and shoots like a sniper, and the man – oh, the man can move things (and people!) without touching them and turns from a hunching bystander who’s too afraid to look you in the eye into a lethal machine in an instant (and no, Jacob definitely does not appreciate his ass being hauled up and through the air and onto a roof of the adjacent building. He loves to fly, sure, but that flying usually involves a ship and a chair and him being in control). They escape and make their way to the spaceport. The woman, Queenie, and the Jedi (there is no doubt in that, Jacob never met one but he heard stories, plus a normal human does not leap from building to building or deflect blaster fire with a wave of the hand), Newt, need to get off the planet.

Don’t do the thing, Kowalski!  His grandma’s voice is practically screaming but he ignores it and hides them both in his ship. Jedi says the heat from the bakery should make their thermal signatures invisible to the imperial scanners (and yes, holy shit, there is a star destroyer in the orbit, along with dozens of smaller ships, and Jacob wonders what exactly did he just get himself into).

They get hailed and caught in a tractor beam the moment they leave the planet’s surface.

“You said it was going to work!”

“I did.”

“So what happened?”

Newt just shrugs, “I was wrong”.

But apparently the man has another plan- which is even more suicidal, so suicidal that, in fact, it might just work. So, Jacob lets his two stowaways hide in the airduct and  calmly flies his ship into the star destroyers’ bay.

Credence Barebone 

He knew he was born wrong. He could feel other people’s emotions before he could walk, he felt his mother’s despair and anguish when the father he does not remember died, he felt sorrow and pity when people came to take him away after his mother passed. And then hate, and anger and resentment and disgust that his foster mother felt towards him after he moved his plate without touching it by accident. He knew when she was going to beat him, he felt the rage and fear rising in her right before she took a belt in her hand. And then one day, when he was bleeding and aching and crying, he let the beast out - and the beast killed her, threw her through a wall like a rag doll, and Credence never felt so alive. He loved the feeling of power and sudden freedom, only to get sick when he realized what he has done. So he ran.

He was freezing in the winter cold and starving, living off on scraps and stolen food, hiding in the back alleys of a space port when the kind man found him. The kind man- Percival Graves- told him about the Force, about the midichlorians, and said he would take care of him and teach him how to control the beast. He took Credence to his ship, a giant, shiny ship in the blackness of space punctured by millions of tiny stars, and Credence thought he was dreaming. Graves gave him a room big and clean and warm and with a window too, so Credence could just sit there for hours and watch the black wastness of spaceand get lost in it; and a bed large enough that Credence no longer needed to bend over to fit. And clothes, so soft and expensive Credence was scared to ruin them by just touching them. And food, as much food as he wanted and he didn’t have to ask permission to get it.

The kind man taught him about the Force too . Small things at first- moving objects without breaking them or slamming them into a wall, healing himself with a force of his mind, guessing what cards Graves held in his arms without looking, making Stormtroopers do things by touching their minds. And Credence loved it. He was no longer afraid, and he finally felt in control, but somewhere deep inside his fear of the beast turned into anger.

And then the war started. The rebels wanted to destroy the Empire, and Credence couldn’t understand why, why would they want to destroy something so beautiful, something that brings peace and comfort? So he asked Graves if he could help- and the kind man smiled and said yes.

It felt like a hive to control all those minds at once, to rage through the battlefield like one giant organism made up of thousands of smaller ones, to see with a thousand eyes, be every Stormtrooper at the same time, guiding them, helping them, directing them. It felt like ultimate power and Credence drank it till the last drop, enjoying every second.

Until the pain came. He breathed with every breath his Stormtroopers took, and he felt everything they felt- a searing of the flesh when a bomb went off ten steps ahead, a sickening sound of bones cracking when a walker fell, crushing them to death; an overwhelming fear rushing through his veins when they were drowning in their own blood. It was intense, it was mindblowing, and he screamed himself hoarse, clawed at his own skin, leaving bruises and scratches on his own flesh.  They came back when he was sleeping, too, thousands of pale hands reaching out to him, trying to grab and drag him into the abyss. But he never told the kind man. He couldn’t. So he put his pain into anger, and made his soldiers stronger, and faster, and fiercer.

And then one day he saw it. A tiny little spark in the Force, a blue twinkle of light amidst rolling clouds of darkness, and the hair on his neck stood up. It was like the stillness, the deathly quietness right before the storm rolls in.

Gellert Grindelwald 

We take what we desire because we can. We can because we have power. We have power because we are Sith.

Pain. Pain is the easiest and fastest way to control a person. Not the pain itself, but the moment, the instant when the pain stops, the bliss of not feeling it anymore- that is the moment when a person’s mind is the most vulnerable and breaks under the lightest of touch. He used it many times before and will use it again. He is the Sith’ari, a powerful user of the Dark Side of the force, and he will one day rule the Galaxy.

But for now, there are more pressing matters. He needs to find the Deathly Hallows- three keys that will lead him to the Revan’s holocron- the knowledge of the Dark Side recorded by the most powerful Sith of them all right before her disappearance. Knowledge that not only will lift him above all in the known universe, but also give up the location of the Star Forge, the ultimate weapon strong enough to conquer the Galaxy.

He needs to concentrate on his search, and for that, he needs to control his Empire.  

The boy is doing a good job, winning battle after battle and gaining more control over his powers. Grindelwald laments sometimes that he is not close enough to the boy to feel the surge, and to drink off that pain and fear and anger. But he is too busy with the search, so he leaves babysitting to his lapdog. There will come a day when Graves will be discarded and thrown to the side, no longer useful, and Grindelwald will finally meet the boy himself, and taste the power, and conquer the boy’s mind right when it is about to break from all that pain, and take the pain away, leaving only numb bliss. And the boy will be his, completely his to command. And if not, well, then Grindelwald will just take what is rightfully his.

Dear Netflix,

I hate you. You destroyed something beautiful that brought so many people together. Sense 8 represented everything this world needed to see. People from different backgrounds coming together is something this world needs to work on. There are so many other shit shows you could’ve cancelled instead of this one. I will forever be angry and dissapointed with you.

Soul Mate 24

“The voice you hear your thoughts in is your soulmate’s but you don’t know who they are until you hear them speak for the first time.”

A/N: I promise this is the last filler! It’s just building up to the final…major scene? Or could I say arc? I’ll say arc. Part 25 is where shit starts to go intense once again, get your little angsty souls prepared for that! Enjoy! [GIF NOT MINE]

Warning: None!

Word Count: 3.1K+


There was something about the morning sky being blended with that of the night sky that made the General at ease. Maybe it was sort of a reminder that she had defeated darkness once before, maybe it was telling her that there’s always hope–after all, she liked to remind others of that–but who really reminded her? Anyone in the Resistance and New Republic would say the General is one tough soul. She’s gone through hell and back: lost her son to the dark side, lost her brother to exile, lost her husband to death, yet…here she was, being a brave and still doing what was right. No matter how fast her walls would crumble, there was always something there to rebuild it. That something being her brother and long lost niece, and now, you.

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