Max would call you a slur, just like he called Lance one. Hope he dies in a fire.
It’s not good to wish people harm, but I guess in that case, I hope you get what you deserve.
I also don’t think you know Max. Jfc what is wrong with you people to wish death on drivers??? And then you want to consider yourself a good person? You feel morally justified because he said a slur? If you wished death on everyone that said slurs or that did things that go against your morale then the list would be long. You should get over yourself.
It’s crazy how you think your behavior is justified and yet you’re on anon? You know what, you’re nothing but a coward.
You’re just an evocation as to why this fandom sucks ass sometimes, there’s no way to be rational, people are always in the extreme. You’re the cause why people leave, because they don’t want to face awful people such as you, toxicity, when they just want to enjoy themselves.
Small reminder, as to why I said none of the drivers are technically good people. I love Lewis, he’s amazing and he’s an ambassador of many causes, but the sport they all do is F1. F1 is a factor of pollution, F1 goes in country where rights are limited. F1 in itself is bad and your blorbos go to place like Dubai for vacations, I don’t think that’s the best for environment either. The argument is available for other sports as well, like football.
I don’t even consider you a F1 fan at this rate because considering the sport you’re watching and everything that happened during it, all of the crashes, all of the mortal accidents, I can’t believe you would have the audacity to wish death on anyone. You can’t be this stupid right?
But I guess let’s make this post an example. Reminder everyone, you can hate on drivers in your own space, but please do not wish death on drivers. I thought it was obvious but apparently not…
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Preview of Angsty In-Progress TRT What If fic
Right so there won't be a chapter cause I'm still in Covid Brain Fog Town, Population: Me which is affecting my writing (I've gotten a bit written but it's slow going). But I have found time to edit that sad thing I'd been working on BEFORE getting sick and I'm planning to release that because I think it works as a really good illustration of just what the stakes are in TRT if they get this wrong. AKA: a what-if, in which all their preparations fail and Jane is taken (spawned by an ask in my box that's been chewing at my brain for months now).
This will be a really dark and angsty side-fic, and the ending won't be happy per se, although I'm planning to give a little hope at the end since I'm not a COMPLETE monster, but I don't expect everyone to read it regardless and am designing it so there's no need to if you'd prefer to stick to TRT canon. BUT if you DO want to read something like this, here's a preview of the first section.
Warnings for: angst (obviously), blood, reference to shock collars.
Preview wordcount: around 1k
Putting this behind a cut.
Sad Matt gif cause this part's from his POV and it will not be fun.
There should have been a fight.
That had always been the plan, an unspoken agreement the moment you’d decided to stay. You’d all known the Man in the White Coat, Cyrus James, would come to town eventually. It was an inevitability, a reality, and it was one you’d prepared for. Slowly, you’d gathered in your allies, armor composed of S.H.I.E.L.D., of the Ferryman, of the Punisher and the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and even Spider-Man, had you asked. There’d been plans and backup plans, alarm systems and fail safes. And just in case that still wasn’t enough, you and Matt had taken to practicing, over and over and over again, all the ways you could signal him should your hunter slip through the cracks.
It was foolproof.
It should have been foolproof. That was what you’d all believed.
You were all wrong. So terribly, terribly wrong.
This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.
There was no battle.
It’s my fault.
No war along the familiar streets that had become your home.
I should have sensed him.
There’d been no signal given. No warning, no alarm that rang out, not when you were walking home after a late case.
Caught alone in the dark.
Where are you, sweetheart? Please, just give me something, anything—
You didn’t even have time to scream, they said.
Not physically, anyway.
He’d felt your fear before on occasion, when you reached for him psychically. Then, your presence felt like the frantic bite of your nails in his skin, tasted like the sharp tang of cold sweat and burning adrenaline, sounded like the stuttered racing of your heart, a drumbeat in his ears that never failed to set his own heart racing as he cast his senses out, hunting for threat-threat-threat and for those that dared to harm you. He’d felt your fear when you woke in the quiet dark of the apartment, and when you’d been trapped beneath the warehouse in a cruel, dusty cell. He’d felt it, too, that night Frank had chased after you.
He thought he’d known the flavor of your fear.
But those moments were nothing compared to the moment your deepest, darkest fear became… real.
The deafening psychic scream that tore through the thread with all the force of a hurricane was like nothing he’d felt before, or ever would again. That storm was all-consuming, the world around him gone in a heartbeat as the sudden wave brought him to his knees, his mouth shocked open on a silent shout. He could barely breathe through that terrified tide, one cold as bitter ice, your panicked heartbeat less a drumbeat than a constant roar in his ears as your panic rolled through him. This was the tremor of muscle and blind, animalistic instinct, the last, desperate sprint of a doomed hare just before the hawk’s talons cinched shut against the back of its neck.
This wasn’t fear. That was too small a word.
It was sheer, absolute terror.
And in that terror, you managed only a single word.
“Matt, h—”
You never got a chance to finish. Instead, he was struck by a blinding surge of electricity, white-hot coils of lightning snaking around his throat before locking tight. That shock raced outwards from there, traveling along lines of hidden nerves and thick muscle until his whole body locked up in agony. It was impossible to writhe, to thrash, to fight. All he could do was scream, mindless and furious, your terror matched only by his surge of rage, rage that covered his own wave of terror. Because he knew. He knew, distantly, what this was, and what this meant.
The collar.
Just as quickly as it came, the connection was gone, leaving him with nothing but the steady drip of blood from his nose and a ringing in his ears.
He wanted to retch, his stomach roiling, but there was no time.
It can’t end like this.
The directional signal he’d gotten from you was worthless. Even when he found where you’d been snatched off the street, they’d left him nothing but droplets of your blood and a fading snatch of cigarette smoke, a poor cover for the faint chemical scent lingering in the alley. Tranquilizers, he’d learn later, meant to knock you out, make you tame enough to be bound, collared, and forced into the back of a van. From there, your scent vanished into the night.
Caught.
Collared.
Taken.
There was supposed to be more time.
More time for him in your arms and you in his.
More quiet touches in the early morning, and laughter in the kitchen, at Fogwell’s, on warm rooftops and cold ones, too.
Time for him to slip a ring on your finger, and for his name to twine with yours, joyful tears in both your eyes as he pressed his lips to yours on the day you finally became his wife, the keeper of his soul, and he the keeper of yours, for all the rest of your days.
Why hadn’t he asked you?
He should have asked you.
Our rocking chairs should be red, you’d said sleepily last night, when we’re old.
He should have been faster.
Stronger.
Smarter.
“All this, all this that we have here, that you love, is at risk. It always is when I stop. He takes this from me every time, Matt."
He should have protected you.
He’d promised you he’d keep you safe.
“No one will take you. I won’t let them, no matter what I have to do to stop them. What happened before—you didn’t have me. I’ll hear him coming from a mile away. We’ll be prepared for him."
“Ciro promised me the same thing. And he was wrong.”
He’d… promised.
“I promise. I’ll find them before they even get close.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, D.”
And he’d failed.
The Devil’s roar of anguish, of grief, and of absolute agony shook the very bones of the city.
By that point, you were too far away to hear it.
It would be seven months before he found you again.
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I'm sorry, but I can't stand fanfics where Reader/MC gets jealous of the members, specially Chan centred fics, interactions and closeness with Stay. When i see that, I inmediatly stop reading. I understand it's all fiction and it doesn't mean the writers themselves are like that, but I'm sure there's people that would actually behave that way given the circumstances. And I find it stupid.
Maybe it's because I speak from a fan's perspective, but If I was a member's girlfriend, I wouldn't feel threatened by their fans. Skz x Stay is one of the most adorable, gorgeous bonds in the industry. If it was me, I'll support it wholeheartedly and maybe I'll openly agree that my boyfriend belongs to his fans first. I'll join the jokes, i'll tease him, etc.
When I read pieces where the member in question, mostly Bang Chan, stops interacting with Stays like that because his partner felt too insecure or even asked them to stop, it annoys me a lot. Because honey, if you're dating a celebrity, you should know they're not regular people, specially not Stray Kids. And if you feel threatened by random strangers flirting with your boyfriend, whom doesn't even know them in real life, then you're not ready for a relationship and you're gonna be jealous of whoever female talks to him.
I'm sorry for this stupid rant but I just found another work with that topic and I couldn't stand it. Everyone is free to write what they please. But I want to see more works where Reader is actually in good terms with Stay and enjoys the interactions too, instead of getting jealous and sad about it, and making Bang Chan stop it althoether.
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I have a vague memory of Irey being able to do absolutely terrifying things with the speedforce too? She could make her Impulse costume out of energy like Wally could but couldn't she also like. Wrap people in pure speedforce cocoons and control their lifespans
... no...?
I mean. This is actually super weird for me because my personal headcanon is that she'll grow up to do those things but... uh.. no, she's never done that in canon
The suit thing, yeah. Most speedsters can do the suit thing.
Wally has made lil tiny baby speedforce cocoons to hold arsenic bombs and stuff. But, as far as I'm aware, there haven't been any people sized speedforce cocoons.
It seems doable but it also doesn't seem doable. Idk. Speedsters usually have to be super close to their constructs (like, touching them) for them to exist because (although they don't like to admit it) the constructs are usually more 'extensions of their own body that are too inhumane for them to mentally classify as part of their body without having a mental breakdown' and less 'actual stand alone constructs'. For example, Wally's 'cocoons' were attached to his hands.
Of course that being said, Scouts are speedforce constructs that can exist without touching their speedforce source/creator. But Bart is also on some next level shit with that power. That's not a typical speedster ability. Godspeed made a single Scout for less than a minute and he almost died. Rip to Godspeed but Bart is built different.
So ... Idk. It's a possibility for sure.
Now the aging thing is, again, just a general speedster power. Most speedsters can do this, they just don't know they can do it. Pretty much every speedster controls their own aging and slows down their loved ones aging.
Making someone age super fast or deage is a speedster power as well. It just takes a lot more skill and practice. Not every speedster can do it and, honestly, most haven't tried. I love em but they aren't the most creative bunch. Anyway, it's a power that has been shown before and it's 100% doable. I could totally see Irey being able to do it.
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