One Of My Favorite Genres Of Post

Danganronpa

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a niche character trope i like is the person who is nice, a good person and acts well adjusted, then they do something where it’s like. oh you’re secretly a little bit insane actually

surf crazy

this is Mondo Oowada and welcome to jackass

Ahem-

Worst types of country songs:

Alcoholism rules

God bless the USA

Truck

Diet christian music

Love a small town blue eyed girl

Best types of country songs:

Just a specific ass situation

I hate this damn job

Woman kills those who've wronged her

Alcoholism sucks

Everything’s Okay

Summary: The Captain (you) has had enough of this god-forsaken loop. And it’s about time that they told someone.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff???

Word count: 4k+

Paring: (Sort of) Head Engineer Mark / [Gender Neutral]Captain, written platonic but it’s up to your interpretation :D

A/N: Bolded and Italicized words are thoughts, I wasn’t sure how else to show that since using the same tag started to feel a little repetitive. Got a little carried away, but its whatever. Also my first time posting one of my self indulgent fics, so let me know if you want more and if there’s anything I should work on. 

Happy Reading!  -Soup

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There was so much wrong. 

Keep reading

A surprise visit

Arcade’s only sin is the sin of being born and I don’t think anyone can get it right when they write him.

Can you imagine the hatred? The disgust? Do you think that when he passes by mirrors and catches his own reflection he thinks “Innocent people died so I could be born” or “I am named after an idea of paradise that would cause the slaughter of thousands”? Does he feel guilt, this man who had to privilege of not having to go hungry, of being able to grow and tower over regular wastelanders? Does he consider the fact he was born of years of love and hate? That he was bred to be a fervent nationalist? Does he miss Navarro and then realize with disgust that had it not been destroyed he would’ve become the very thing he fights tooth and nail against?

And he simplifies it. He dumbs it down in his head and tries to save himself the sheer horror that the people he misses so dearly, his father, his mother, would’ve probably wanted him to mercilessly kill the very people he treats. He says to the courier “They did bad things. Kidnapped people, terrorized settlements.” But is that really it? No. But the thought that his parents named him, this tall man who used to be a child (that, had fate not changed, would’ve grown to be a soldier or a scientist hellbent on “purifying the wasteland”), after a paradise that would’ve brought about the destruction of thousands of good people must be a bone-chilling notion.

People don’t write him with the guilt of knowing what he was born to do. And they don’t write him with the pride of knowing that he defied it and works to better the wasteland all around him, to fix his nation’s mistakes.