#(i Will Not be providing a link so that will have to stay blank)

[writer-logbook]

5 tips for proofreading & their pros and cons

Define your objectives for each chapter. In my case, some of my chapters are better written than others. My objectives for them will differ. Before starting my proofreading, I list my needs and areas of improvements, and I write them down somewhere so I have them in front of me rather than in my head alone.

Pros : allows you to know which points you need to focus on ; provides a guideline adapted to your needs.

Cons : risk of losing homogeneity and fluidity + flaws may be shifted to other chapters that didn't have them before due to a sudden imbalance.

Plan several proofreading sessions, each one of them addressing ONE NEED AT A TIME. (E.g., one for grammar, another for style, and a final one for coherence. ) And I insist on the "one need at a time" part. Even for those who can multitask (unlike me), I really don't recommend settling for a single proofreading session. It could interfere with your concentration and let you skip some flaws. And please, always give your chapter a final read after your edits to ensure that the elements make sense as a whole, and are not repeated every two paragraphs (I plead guilty, your honor)

Pros: allows you to focus precisely on each point, and give it dedicated attention.

Cons: you can quickly get confused and risk multiple re-readings + significant time investment.

I make my corrections on a separate file. Whatever you do, it's always better to have a backup and therefore to save your files (don't blindly trust autosave) to create archives. I think it's a two-ways process : 1) you open two files simultaneously, one with your V1 and one, blank, where you'll rewrite your chapter as you make changes. Eventually, this new doc will become your V2 ; 2) you copy the parts to proofread into a new document and edit directly in there.

Pros: allows you to rewrite as you wish without being discouraged by the following paragraphs - especially in case of the first way.

Cons: requires multiple files (maybe multiple screens to be at ease) and better organization.

Change the typography. I don't know about you, but after a while, I'm struck by semantic satiation (click on the link - it's Wikipedia -, it's very interesting) and nothing makes sense anymore. After the 52,846th proofreading, I might as well read in another language. I've found a relatively effective trick - not as effective as a complete break, but sometimes you need to move forward - which consists of changing the typography. I can't remember who gave me this advice though, but be sure they've been thanked more than enough in my mind. In any case, seeing words change their shape significantly helps my brain to stay focused and attentive. (Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me but I only see the results.)

Pros: it's simple to implement.

Cons: I don't know if this trick works for everyone or if I'm the only weirdo (you can tell me in the comment section).

Take notes. This is a very personal tip but I keep a proofreading logbook. Like, I record in a few sentences the first time an element is mentioned, how it's describes, and most importantly… I MENTION THE DATES. The story I'm currently writing is heavily governed by a chronological system, so I have an absolute need to keep the day count up to date.

Pros: helps avoid inconsistencies and oversights.

Cons: very tedious to maintain and creates (a lot) of extra work.

I've started my prooreading journey yesterday and I already want to die. If I find in the edits something that is worth making a post, be sure that I will. Or let me know if you're simply curious.

Gentle reminder : Best is the worst enemy of good so, at some point, you'll have to let it go and let your chapter live its life to its fullest. Don't be hard on yourself and be proud of your work - or know that I am.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your phone rings, shaking you from your trance. You haven't moved since you locked the door and ran upstairs. You sit on the sofa, one leg hooked tightly over the other as you bite your cheek and twine your hands around your knee.

You pry your fingers apart and stand. Each step is shaky and unsure. A branch brushes the window and you flinch, turning to gape at the pane. You watch the leaves wave in the breeze. The phone quiets as it rolls to voicemail.

The lull is brief as it once more begins to chime and you rush to grab it from beside the radio. You answer in a quaver, barely able to get your words out.

"Hello?"

"Hi," a lilted accent flows through the line.

"Hello, Marguerite," you reply, "how are you?"

"Yes, uh, I would like to let you know that Henri will not be attending his lesson tonight."

"No? I hope everything is okay," you toy with the edge of the doily beneath the retro radio.

"Oui, very okay," she drones, "it is only an unexpected circumstance. You take care, mademoiselle."

"I wi–"

The line clicks before you can finish. You have a bad feeling. That's so odd. Another blank space in the ledger.

You shake your head and curl your fingers around the phone as you pace. You hope it's just a coincidence.

You're jittery and you just can't stay still. You can still hear the way his voice sunk low. His words jumble together but his timbre remains, haunting your mind.

Your phone pings and an email bubbles up. Someone has reviewed your posting. You open your inbox and click on the link.

'Paid for lessons. Turned away due to discrimination. DO NOT PAY THIS SCAMMER.'

There is no name, just 'anonymous.' Oh, this is why you hate the internet. It's too much drama.

You know it's him. What you don't expect is the next comment.

'Very disappointed to hear. I will be discontinuing my son's attendance at once.'

You feel breathless as you lean on the table and place the phone flat. You drag your finger down as a new comment appears.

'My son was unable to attend his lesson today as there was a strange man hanging around screaming. The teacher does not provide a kid-safe environment. Do not bring your children here.'

Caroline at least has the nerve to sign her name. You don't understand. They know you. They know they can trust you.

She saw this crazy man and her reaction is to blame you. Typical. It's just like college. Just like that time. The incident you don't think about.

You login and go to your settings. You close the posting, not wanting any more rancor. You don't know what you're going to do. Go to the bank and talk to someone about your savings. You held onto your inheritance for a reason, right?

You leave your phone on the table and stride through the archway to the music room. You graze your fingers over the ivory keys before shutting the lid. No music today. You couldn't play if you tried.

You wish your grandfather was here to tell you what to do. To say in his gentle tone that it'll be okay. But you don't think it will be.

🎹

It's midnight. The old hanging clock ticks on the wall as you lay in silence, the fan blowing over you in the night's damp warmth. Rain falls but not hard enough to take the thickness from the air, only stirring it further.

You keep a sheet across your body, pulled over your stomach as you stare at the ceiling. You can't sleep. Usually you fall asleep before ten but tonight, you just can't close your eyes.

The scratching of the branch on the window keeps you alert, every creak, every groan of the walk up has you on edge. The hum of the fridge, the drone of the pipes, all those familiar are suddenly frightful.

You exhale and twiddle your fingers against your stomach. You aren't going to sleep. You know it.

You sit up and rub your forehead. Camomile. That always helps. You remember how your grandfather had a cup each night. You kept a package around just for the memory.

You get up and tug the cotton gown away from your figure as it clings to your sweat. Your steps creak down the hallway and you emerge in the shadows of the music room, a darkness clustering beyond the stairs. An eerie tingle crawls up your arms.

You stop as you notice the curtains pushed to the very edge of the rod. You closed that window, you’re sure of it. Just like every night, you went over your routine.

Windows, door, everything locked up tight, except for the bedroom. You kept the pane halfway up, no more, no less. Just enough to let in the air.

You tiptoe over and look outside. You see the tree looming and hear the crickets. There's nothing, no one there.You pull down the frame and flip the latch.

You stay there for just a minute and watch the moonlight flicker through the foliage. It's getting to you. You're forgetting things. Important things.

You back away and go into the kitchen. As you enter, there's a click. You peer around, turning slowly in place. You flick on the light above, the bulb casting amber through the glass shade.

You see nothing but what you expect. The silver fridge, the brown counters, the pantry door, and the small square table with its for handbuilt chairs. You go to the stove and put the kettle onto the burner as you crank the knob.

You stand at the stove and wait. The anxiety winds inside your stomach as you pick at your nail and bite your cheeks. What can you do? You can hand out flyers? Maybe find a different place to post?

Ugh it's all such a mess and because of him. A stranger! You don't know him. Why does he care so much?

You hate to judge someone by their looks but you should've known from the start he was trouble. You did, you just didn't want to accept that. You didn't want to have a mean thought.

The kettle begins to shake and you watch the steam plume from the spout. You remove it to keep it from whistling and you take out a cup and packet of tea. The simple steps ease your addled nerves.

You pour the hot water over to steep the bag and retreat with your cup to the table. You sit and tap your fingers on the trim of the placemat. The old woven things fray along the edge, the embroidered berries fading into the grey.

You drop your head into your hands and sigh. Maybe you need a break. Dip into your nest egg and figure things out.

You prefer monotony but life doesn't go according to plan. That's the sole lesson you took from your grandfather's death. Nothing lasts forever.

This won't either, right?

🎹

You're awakened by a crash. You sit up and let out a gritty yelp. You roll out of bed, tangled in the sheets and off balance.

It's still dark out. You barely remember going back to bed. Your head is fuzzy and your lashes crusty from the depth of your slumber.

You let the sheet drape down to the floor as you stumble to the doorway. You notice the flowers on the floor, the vase in pieces in a puddle of water. The window is open again.

You rush over and shove down the window without a thought to the shards at your feet. You lock it and stagger away, narrowly missing the glass with your sole. You turn, squinting in the dark as you find your way back to the kitchen.

The pantry door is open. You swallow as you turn on the light again, bracing yourself for some villain to emerge. The glow reveals no monster waiting among the dry goods.

You go forward to slam the door shut. You lean on it and peek at the small clock that ticks above a vintage barometer. It's barely 2am.

Your heart pumps loudly as you go to the table where your empty cup still sits. You must've forgotten to take it to the sink. You pick it up and an unexpected weight lingers at the bottom.

You peer past the brim and see the item inside. The crumpled head of a poppy. It seems one of those left in the road in Steve's anger. But how did it get there?

Is this a dream? If it is, why can't you wake up.

[autumnslance]

Hi! I’ve been trying to make an introductory post for my WoL, but when I tried doing so freeform it ended up overly long and full of rambling. I’ve searched for templates all over the internet, but the only ones I can find are in the general style of D&D character sheets that include irrelevant information about stats while not properly dedicating space to the actual character traits. I saw the format you used for your OCs, and it seems to be about what I’m looking for. Is there any chance you could provide a blank template along those lines for me and others who might have the same problem?

Funnily, while I keep them all similar, I didn't have a template before now. Also reminds me I need to do some updating and revision on my own OCs, it's been awhile and they can use a refresh for character and plot updates.

I recommend making static pages over posts; easier to track and edit. I am a stickler for organization, so keep my pinned post to the bare basics with links to the profiles and other pages, to keep from stretching the post to a mile long, in part, and to keep the info where it's easily read and relevant. Also because mobile app view won't show one's theme and links, and the pinned post is more likely to be seen and accessible than a sidebar or menu.

I have tutorials on how to set a custom theme (and access full blog features) as well as how to create those static blog pages. Tumblr may have made some updates since, but the gist is the same, and the Help pages have newer details if necessary.

I do urge keeping colors and format simple, accessible, and reader friendly, including screen reader friendly. A row of asterisks or tildes as a separator line are usually individually read out by screen readers, as is the code used to make those fancy hard-to-read gothic letters folks use for "aesthetics." In a lot of my profiles, I split sections with images of the character (which should also use alt text if we're trying to be kind and inclusive, and it's to the point of a profile page anyway).

I think I will put the intro and template here in the post under a cut, and then in a Reply Comment add a link to the Google Doc version, cuz of how Tumblr is about external links. An actual blank copy-pasta is on the GDoc, what's below has some thought processes for each section for guidance.

This a pretty modular template, that can be added to or subtracted from as needed. Move descriptive blocks around as they seem more or less relevant for your OC, substitute things that make sense over things that don’t; this is just a starting point!

I see these as broad strokes; a quick introduction and general overview of your character, meant to give an at-a-glance idea of who they are. It’s handy for other writers and artists, and even oneself for keeping track of some details. I recommend practicing succinct writing here; these blocks should each stay between 100-300 words or thereabouts. Use links to other pages and tags to point toward longer details and stories (and keep them handy for yourself!). It also makes it much easier when you want to revise things when characterization marches forward, or if you want to retcon something entirely.

But these are all just my opinions and ideas on how I approach OC profiles after making them in some form or another for about a quarter century. Make it as long or short as it needs to be, change it up, go nuts, I ain’t your mom, and so on 😉

-

Statistics: The basics; barebones, at-a-glance stat blocks, handy for quick reference. Can be added to or shortened as needed. If a stat starts to word wrap on a standard screen, trim it and move that extra detail to the “Description” paragraph below the list.

Race: (for FF14 fantasy possibilities) Nationality: (or Ethnicity, whatever works. Where are they from, as that helps shape them?) Height: (both feet/inches and centimeters are handy here) Eyes: Build: (I prefer this to weight, as that’s ridiculously variable depending on one’s build, which is more important visually anyway; are they broad, stocky, skinny, muscular, stringy, etc) Hair: (color, type, texture, preferred lengths and styling) Skin: (sometimes I fold scars into here, if there’s nothing too outstanding) Scars: Voice: (how do they sound?) Nameday: Age: (depends on your personal timeline for your OCs, but I recommend an age range over specifics; mid-20s, 25-35, late teens, a little over a century, etc. Less updating and fits with the handwaved time bubble anyway) Disciplines: (what are their main job[s]? The adventuring or professional skills they’ve learned?) Hobbies: Birthplace: Current Home: Occupation: (Their actual day job, different from or part of their disciplines?) Signature Items: (A particular weapon? A piece of jewelry? Always wear a specific coat?)

Description: A very short "immediate impressions" type description; what would someone "on the street" see when meeting/looking at your character on a typical day? Taking some of the info from the stats but then how you want those barebone facts to be seen; is the OC elegant, or rough? Expensive clothes or simple attire? Any particular smells, or sounds? I recommend around 100 words.

Biography: Very brief, general overview of the backstory that led them to the point where they become a story protagonist (adventurer, the WoL, or other roleplay archetype). Don't have to go into great detail, keep it short and simple; it's a blurb that sets up how they got here in broad strokes. I think my longest bio is around 300 words, and it probably shouldn’t go over that here.

To get more details, one can always link to specific stories, or to a tag. I have multiple OCs, so I might make my tags something like "Aeryn Backstory" or "Iyna Lore" or "Punchy History" or some combo thereof (I usually try to keep them consistent though for ease).

Persona: What face do they present to the world? How are they perceived by the public, acquaintances, coworkers, family, actual friends? Some of these answers will be the same, some may change depending on if and how they code switch in various social situations.

From there, what lies underneath the surface? What are some general internal attitudes, traits, feelings?

A hundred words for outward demeanor and another one hundred for innermost self ought to cover the general broad strokes.

Romance: If so inclined, details about the OC's relationship details; sexual and romantic orientations, relationship history, current situations, how they view and approach intimacy (or not!).

Links to relationship tags or stories or art can work well here, too.

Echo: Does the OC have an Echo at all? Is it a "typical" Echo, or do they have some special abilities, some things they're better at than others? How does it affect them, how do they feel about it?

This is another section that may be a free space section to remove or swap to something else relevant to the character.

Hobbies: The stuff outside of work and heroics. Ways they relax, special interests, side jobs, things they enjoy, and so on. This can be an expansion of the listing in the stat block, or you can cut out one or the other to avoid redundancy.

Companions: What’s their chocobo like, or do they have another favored mount? What pet(s) do they have? Are they practically a Disney Princess? Have a familiar? Do they prefer arcane entities? Technological constructs? Or do they eschew companions entirely?

How to find the OC in game: This is where I list things like realm and data center, and addresses for the FC house and personal house or apartment. Not necessary if you don't want folks to go looking.

Links: The links can be scattered through the post in relevant sections, or gathered together here. I tend to put my basic tag for the character, if I have an aesthetic tag for them, their story tags, any links to art references or other miscellaneous items I want easily found for myself and others. I often put this close to the top if a profile is longer and I want those links to be quick referenced.

OOC: Any particular notes one wants to make about the character from a meta perspective. Can also be combined with the Links.

[theflyindutchwoman]

Are you good? Yeah. Yeah, we got you covered out here. Wherever you go, we go. Well, that's comforting, but I meant, like, are you good? Do you mean do I miss you already? No. I'm fine. You are such a jerk.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 5.21 - Going Under

Covering Lucy's first days undercover through her conversations with Tim is simply brilliant. Instead of focusing on the isolating side of covert operations, this montage actually emphasises how these two find ways to stay in touch… to hold space for the other, through phone calls that sound like love letters, that serve as a bond between them… And that's the beauty of this scene : it underlines the importance of verbal communication. They can't rely on their usual shorthand here. They can't just guess what the other is thinking with only a look. They have to say things aloud. And that constant dialogue brings out so many things to the surface.

Like how truly different their relationship is. From Tim and Isabel's marriage, that was plagued by miscommunication and secrecy as her recent return pointed out. Or from Sava and Jake's relationship, that was based on lies and deceit. Both Lucy and Tim make a point to constantly check-in with each other here. Right from the start, she asks him point blank how he is doing, recognising his deflection. His little smile when she asks him that… The fondness behind it… His little joke about not missing her and Lucy calling him a jerk… This is so reminiscent of their usual dynamic and they both need this semblance of normalcy. But mostly, it shows how they really pay attention to the other. They make the most of their limited time, discussing the mission as well as personal matters. Like when Lucy asks him to keep an eye on Tamara or to wait for her return to watch Top Chef… Or when she wonders if he ever wishes he had a normal job, one where he wouldn't get shot - talk about foreshadowing by the way… Those are the type of conversations they would normally have. Being undercover doesn't change that : they might be separated by this op, but they're not shutting out the other either. Those little conversations that may seem insignificant are their way of staying connected to each other. The contrast with the previous montage of Lucy sending short text messages to Nyla when she was undercover as Nova couldn't make this clearer.

That's why having Tim as her link to the 'real world' is perfect. It may not be Lucy's first undercover op but it is the first time since they started dating. Tim acting as her case officer gives them both a bit of a preview to what their future might entail, while easing them both to it. It's a way for him to be directly involved in Lucy's op. Besides, no one knows her better than him and she trusts him more than anybody else. And it also provides her with a lifeline, an anchor, the comfort of knowing he's close by. But mostly, this is what forces them to address the elephant in the room. They are both aware of the potential conflict undercover work could create, something that Lucy tried to bring up a couple of times already. But they need to go through one mission to fully grasp how important transparency is - especially Tim. The fact that this op happens right after the return of their doppelgängers and Isabel gives them the opportunity to learn from their errors… to learn from the past. It was important that these two got to fully enjoy their honeymoon period, to solidify their relationship first. So that instead of worrying on how it could tear them apart, they can concentrate on how they can make it work : by communicating, by being transparent with each other. That's the ingredient that was missing in the other relationships. And this scene introduces wonderfully that last act, when they finally voice their fears and feelings. They spent the whole mission finding ways to stay in touch, to communicate with each other and that allows them to finally confront the issue.

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction Recs | Vol 31

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

New blog theme, new TSD format. Do we like it? Welcome to volume 31 of The Spreadsheet Digest, my weekly(ish) fic rec post. From now on I'll link my personal stuff plus the masterlist where you can find the actual spreadsheet, my fic rec masterlist, and info about how to appear on this list in the future.

All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.

Fic Recs Below!

Freeze-thaw

Joel one shot by @covetyou

Summary: With your holiday plans ruined when a freak snow storm blows through town, you spend the fesitve period holed up with your partner, Joel Miller, learning exactly how warm you can keep each other in the snow.

Tags: no outbreak, fluff, smut, fingering, playing in the snow, temperature play, Joel probs has super bad circulation, established relationship but it's their first Christmas together and reader has some relationship insecurities

This Barbie Likes Objectification

Joel one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Summary: after a fun date seeing Barbie with joel, he realizes a certain scene involving brainwashed barbie dolls has inspired some nasty desires in you. he's more than willing to help you explore them.

Tags: explicit sexual content (18+), no specified ages (but obviously both adults), objectification, degradation, humiliation kink, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, dom!joel, sub!reader, slight spoiler for the Barbie movie

Patience

Javi P one shot by @foli-vora

Summary: Javier teaches you to be patient

Tags: smut: fingering, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap that willy before getting silly), creampie, restraints/use of handcuffs, orgasm denial, smoking, swearing

Stay Close to Me

Jack one shot by @alwaysbethewest

Summary: You're a rookie agent sent to work undercover with Jack as a married couple!

Tags: Fake/undercover marriage! Statesman casefic! A little romance, kissing, coarse language, very mild peril and hurt/comfort, and a splash of alcohol. Reader is a junior agent and has some muscle but otherwise no physical/age descriptions. As with any good Kingsman fic, my first step was to disregard half of canon, so this is either pre-movie or an AU.

No Me Suletes

Frankie one shot by @fhatbhabie

Summary: Even though he's bad for you, you still can't let him go.

Tags: Marcus Pike cameo, smut, unprotected p in v, talks of oral, angst angst angst!!, being left at a chapel, cheating, death of a spouse, drug use (buggar sugar) , smoking cigarettes, asshole!Frankie, spanish dialect w/ translations, no use of Y/N, cute pet names, splash of fluff for 2 seconds, someone having a stroke with a small description, no happy ending

Poolside

Javi G one shot by @joelscruff

Summary: just some fun by the pool with sugar daddy!javi

Tags: blowjobs, deepthroating, brief ball worship, daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, bad google translate spanish, sweat

"Din"scord Kitten

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

Summary: When bounty hunting doesn’t work out anymore Din has to turn to alternative methods to support himself.

Tags: this is a crack fic lmao, Discord/Venmo/Dr. Pepper existing in Star Wars, bad sexting, dick pics, masturbating, bad Star Wars puns, sex work, cummies needs its own warning 😭, pet names (cyar’ika), oral sex (M receiving), cum eating, no use of y/n

Another Time, Baby

Joel one shot by @swiftispunk

Summary: joel makes good on a promise.

Tags: established relationship, porn no plot, smut, age gap (28/50), unprotected anal sex, vaginal fingering, use of a butt plug, joel miller eats ass and pussy and also has a big dick, some affectionate spanking, creampie, cum play (eating and sharing), a little bit of spit, just a lot of bodily fluids all around, one (1) poetic description of a queef, joel miller's filthy mouth, pet names, ysd!joel at his most soft dom, joel's also kind of feral in this, multiple orgasms, sweet sweet aftercare, pov swap. no use of y/n.

Suburbia (I gave it a lil name, sorry).

Lucien drabble by @julesonrecord

Summary: You can't stay away from him, nor do you really try

Tags: Explicit; angst; oral (m receiving); implied infidelity; past relationship. Suburbia (shudder).

Misunderstood

Marcus P one shot by @magpiepills

Summary: Marcus has a bad day at work and needs you to help him feel better.

Tags: SMUT, established relationship, PIV, oral (f and m receiving) fingering, big dick Marcus, multiple orgasms, thumb sucking, cum eating, cum swapping, Marcus eats it from behind, dirty talk, roughish sex, some degradation, tiny little splash of daddy, porn with no plot, no regard for canon, use of a tie as a leash sort of?, alcohol consumption, pancakes, cardigans, NPR, idk what else man, this is not fluffy Marcus.

Wrest Pin

Din series by BalletOrchard (AO3)

Summary: “I can help you escape the planet,” Mando said sharply, “But I want information in return.” She looked up at him through the small hairs on her face and she whispered, sounding almost lost…As if she didn’t know what else to say… “I have no information.” Something Mando did not believe.

Tags: panic attacks, force sensitive!reader, unprotected PinV sex, smut, mando is a dick, angst, slow burn (romantically), touch starved!din, bickering, arguing, post season 1, fluff, ofc!evangeline, she like doesn’t get off the first time they fuck which i feel like is worth noting, feelings of regret, minor character death (evangeline’s whole fam), follows canon, mando lowkey keeping evangeline against her will but like she’s hiding from the empire so, near death experience(s), the helmet comes off, oral f receiving, blindfolding, shower sex

A Weight Off Your Shoulders

Joel series by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Summary: a series of oneshots in chronological order that follow the story of Joel and his new neighbor who returns to Texas following a devastating breakup and called off engagement. With her life completely uprooted and her self-confidence shot, she works through moving on to bigger and better things. Enter DILF neighbor Joel Miller.

Tags: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), cheating, negative body image, negative self-talk, discussions of body image struggles

The Peg That Middle Aged Man Campaign 2024 Masterlist

Call for Pegging Fics!

PMAMC on AO3

Trussed Up - I pegged Jack Daniels

Happy Reading!

[foxes-that-run]

Cardigan

Cardigan is a response to Falling, it was written 2 months after the Falling video was released. The videos have Haylor references. Falling is Harry is worried his muse will never need him again. Cardigan is assuring him their muse-friend-situationship is OK. The voice note has different lyrics:

Living in a gold age Sneak into my birdcage Laughing like a damn fool Breaking every damn rule Peter leaving Wendy The Dancing in your Levi’s line was in place of leaving like a father I knew you’d linger like a stolen kiss I knew I’d wish you’d have changed your mind I knew the love would be for me to loose my mind

The original lyrics also have even more Haylor references:

Living in a gold age and sneak into my birdcage, I wish this stayed. Taylor has a birdcage in her Nashville apartment, Harry got a birdcage tattoo. See theme of gilded cages of fame and love.

Laughing like a damn fool, breaking every rule reminds me of Begin Again where he was "Laughing like a little kid" Harry also referenced Begin Again in the Falling Video.

Peter left Wendy rather than lost Wendy, such an interesting change when Taylor said she ended it in the 1989 Vault.

Stolen kiss is in Blank Space (Stolen kisses, pretty lies) and reminds me of Stolen Stares in Illicit Affairs

Finally links to I Wish you Would and Wonderland!

Taylor also provided foot notes for Cardigan, I have screenshots of more in the video post, in part say:

There's a collection of three songs I refer to as The Teenage Love Triangle (in my head). These three songs explore a summer love triangle from all three peoples perspectives at different times in their lives. It's like this one event happened in their town and it affected them each differently.

In the Long Pond Sessions, it is Betty's POV. Taylor said Betty winds up with James, 'but he really put her through it'. In the footnotes she also says she was "inspired by the feeling of isolation and how it can be freeing or terrifying and how it causes you to reminisce on the past." Indeed, we noticed. While all 3 of the triangle songs draw inspiration from HS/TS, Cardigan does so the most heavily.

Lyrics

[Verse 1] Vintage tee, brand new phone High heels on cobblestones When you are young, they assume you know nothing Sequin smile, black lipstick Sensual politics When you are young, they assume you know nothing

The first verse sets a scene, which is very 1989-esq, cobblestones is either in New York or London, Harry wears a lot of vintage tees.

Sensual politics is a reference to the themes Taylor explored in Slut. Coupled with when you are young, confirms this song is in reference to Harry.

To me, sequin smile, black lipstick could be taken as a scene setter. I think it is directed at Harry in a few ways though:

In IDWLF Taylor was so taken with her glitter lip got it's own BTS where Taylor mentioned runway (Only Angel).

IDWLF is Haylor, it's with Zayn about losing the love of your life and not wanting to end up alone.

and Black lipstick reminds me of Reputation. In he refers to the Rep Aesthetic Little Freak and dreams.

[Chorus] But I knew you Dancin' in your Levi's Drunk under a streetlight, I I knew you Hand under my sweatshirt Baby, kiss it better, I

Dancin in your Levi's reminds both of Maroon's "Dancing in New York, No Shoes" where Harry is wearing black jeans, and Delicate's "Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you"

The chorus retells of the fun they had, it shows their chemistry and slightly messy nighttime antics.

[Refrain] And when I felt like I was an old cardigan Under someone's bed You put me on and said I was your favorite

I love this refrain, I love it so much, great imagery and so warm. It alo recalls Taylor feeling seen by Harry in dark times:

Delicate "This ain't for the best / My reputation's never been worse, so / You must like me for me", and

High Infidelity - Do you really wanna know where I was April 29th? /Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? / Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

Here Taylor is returning the favor, with saying how important their connection is.

[Verse 2] A friend to all is a friend to none Chase two girls, lose the one When you are young, they assume you know nothing

A friend to all was a common criticism laid on Taylor when the squad fell out of favor, I find it interesting here. Taylor directly refers to the events of Falling, though it's of note that in Cruel Summer she also had another beau.

To me the refrain of when you are young is referred to how young they were when they first dated, now around 30 they have held onto this connection.

[Chorus] But I knew you Playing hide-and-seek and Giving me your weekends, I I knew you Your heartbeat on the High Line Once in twenty lifetimes, I

Hide-and-seen reminds us of I Know Places “'Cause I, I know places we can hide”

When they dated, Harry and Taylor travelled to be together, during 1D days Harry would sometimes fly a day late to spend more time with Taylor. Weekends are also mentioned in Now That We Don’t Talk: “What do you tell your friends we shared dinners, long weekends with?” And It’s Nice To Have A Friend: “Feels like home, stay in bed the whole weekend.”

Heartbeat on the high line is a reference to New York, where they spent time together

Once in 20 lifetimes, refers to how rare it is to find someone so special and 20 (13+7) is in many Haylor songs.

[Bridge] To kiss in cars and downtown bars Was all we needed You drew stars around my scars But now I'm bleedin'

Kissing in cars is a reference to the theme of driving. Kissing in bars is similar to Delicate’s “Dive bar on the East Side, where you at? /Phone lights up my nightstand in the black /Come here; you can meet me in the back”

Two Ghosts has a similar line “Moon dances over your good side /And this was all we used to need”

You drew star around my scars but now bleedin’ means to me that HS helped her turn her scars into a good thing, helped her feel better. But now they are apart she is bleeding. There are a number of bleeding as feelings lyrics in: The 1 (never bleed never grow) Olivia (bleeding love), Cruel Summer (If I bleed you'll be the last to know) and Woman (you’re making me bleed). I feel like the bleeding is also connected to the War metaphor Taylor uses.

[Chorus] 'Cause I knew you Steppin' on the last train Marked me like a bloodstain, I I knew you Tried to change the ending Peter losing Wendy, I I knew you Leavin' like a father Running like water, I And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

The last train is a Lyric (I stood right by the tracks / Your face in a locket) from Sad, Beautiful, Tragic on Red. Which was written in late 2011, the title is in the Video Footnotes.

To me bloodstain is a reference to This Love "This love left a permanent mark". In October 2023, a Harry Styles leak California, which refers to being in COVID lockdown in LA and kitten scratches included the lyric "Oh, it's you who left a mark on me"

Peter loosing Wendy, I love this lyric, it's brings imagery of them being young magical one of a kind people meant for each other but not being. A perfect new couple metaphor for them, and one I prefer to Burton/Taylor Mitchell/Nash (Can they've also used.

I find the leaving like a father line so sad, this reminds me of Seven.

[Verse 3] But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young I knew I'd curse you for the longest time Chasin' shadows in the grocery line I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired And you'd be standin' in my front porch light And I knew you'd come back to me You'd come back to me And you'd come back to me And you'd come back

Tattoo kiss is the final line, (stolen being in the voice note). This reminds me of the mentions of marks and of course tattoos. It also reminds me of the Golden Tattoo in Dress..

The smell of smoke reminds us of “Slut!”: "Adorned with smoke on my clothes, lovelorn and nobody knows"

When the thrill expired reminds us of Question…?: Did you leave her house in the middle of the night? Did you wish you put up more of a fight?

Standing in my front porch reminds us of I wish you would, HYGTG

Come back to me reminds us of another Haylor Red song, Come Back, Be Here.

[dumplingsfordays]

evening hours

ok so hihi i'm back and down bad for dainsleif (as usual)

this is just a quick little idea i had while i was in the car so i wrote this down in a google doc and then pasted it here 😭😭

apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes, this isn't proofread so there may be a lot :/

anyways thank you for reading and have an amazing day <3

source for the art (i couldn't find the initial artist, i'm sorry) : @abimanyuputro on pinterest

warning! if you're uncomfortable with any of these topics, please don't read : cuteness to angst to comfort, implied overworking from reader but not really specified

++++

mood :

Lavoe - kept crystal castles but its only piano (link to spotify)

daniel.mp3 - 3am walk - slowed & reverbed version (link to spotify)

lil indo - the beach (instrumental/slowed/muffled) (link to spotify)

++++

The first time you saw him, you were intrigued.

He had a mysterious air about him, emphasized by that starry cloak of his that he never seemed to take off. Delicate blonde hair, outlining his features with smooth strands, poured like a golden waterfall from the top of his head, and his cyan eyes were sharp and cold, but you could sense a sort of sadness hidden deep in them whenever you made eye contact. This wasn't a Mondstadter, you knew that for sure. He didn't look like he was from any other region in Teyvat, too - you could only assume that maybe this gentleman had a very unique taste in clothing and was simply blessed with inhumane beauty. You didn't think that he'd keep visiting your café, though.

The second time you saw him, you were curious.

Curious about his mask that covered only half of his face. Curious about his clothing, his mannerisms, his reticent politeness. Curious about why he was here in Mondstadt at all, and for what reason he seemed to be staying here. His face was a blank, white dot in the crowd of regulars you'd see each day, an enigma, and this fact made you wonder. Where did he come from? Why was he so reserved? And, arguably most importantly - who was he, really?

The third time you saw him, you were friendly.

You struck up conversation about the gorgeous weather outside when you brought him his coffee. Of course, he agreed, saying that it was a perfect time to go for a walk in the Whispering Woods, where the overarching trees provided the perfect amount of shade from the sun, and your quick talk ended there. He thanked you with that same quiet civility before you left his table, but this time, it was accompanied by a barely noticeable smile dancing on his fair lips.

The fourth time you saw him, you were open.

Your conversations were getting longer and longer as the days went by. His previously guarded-off persona was crumbling, and it seemed that he was getting more comfortable talking to you (and maybe even simply being around you). His eyes grew softer when you approached, his tense hands relaxed. You liked this new version of him - a version that he seemed to be hiding from you before he knew you meant no harm, a version that finally felt like it could be honest with you. He would be welcome in the café after closing hours, and you would enjoy simply talking to each other over some tea and muffins about the various aspects of your lives. At times, these conversations would get deep, philosophical - you talked about the meaning of life, about fate. He seemed interested in these topics, to your relief. You never really had a person that you could talk to about this, as they either always changed the subject to something a little more "real", or ignored you altogether, but this man was different. You felt like he was an old friend despite never knowing his name.

The fifth time you saw him, you were a mess.

Everything in your life seemed overwhelming, endlessly crushing at this point. You closed the café early today in an attempt to have extra time to pour your emotions out through some good ole crying, but you forgot about the man, still sitting at a table, book in hand. When you didn't come to him after the clock struck 8:15 (the usual time you'd come over after putting all the cups to soak), he looked over at the counter. You weren't there.

He assumed that you had more duties to attend to, and kept reading, keeping one eye the counter while he was doing so. In fact, instead of being in the storage room, whose entrance was past the counter, you were leaning against it, trying desperately to not cry too loudly. Your hot tears stung as they rolled down your cheeks, but you didn't dare move to wipe them away. You didn't want him to see you in this sorry state.

Unluckily for you, he heard one of your short gasps for air. He immediately set his book down to come over to the counter, and lo and behold, you looked up at him, cheeks and nose reddened as he peered over the wooden surface in worry.

"Can I come behind the counter?" he asked in genuine concern, a tone which you had never heard him speak with.

You nodded, sniffling. You must look absolutely pathetic to him right now.

He walked with urgency to you, and knelt across from you on the floor. He took your hands in his as his cyan eyes met your bloodshot ones.

"Are you okay?"

At these soft-spoken words, the dam broke. Tears poured from your eyes like crystal-clear rivers, and you pulled your hands away from his to bury your face in them. You shuddered as you desperately tried to catch quick breaths of air, gasping, eyes screwed shut.

"Hey, hey," he muttered, trying his best to be reassuring. You felt his (rather large) hands cup your face, carefully pulling it upwards. His thumbs wiped away your still-running tears with gentle care.

"Shh. Breathe, just breathe. That's it."

In between sniffles and ragged breaths, you explained why you were in such a state. You were reluctant to tell him - after all, you didn't want him to think ill of you (or worse, to bear yet another burden on his shoulders. He was probably carrying a lot as it was, and you felt like it was unfair that he should carry your problems with him, too).

"I'm- I'm sorry," you said hoarsely. "For this whole thing. I should've just-"

"No. You shouldn't apologize, not for this," he reassured, "but thank you for being honest."

You nodded, blinking away the last of your tears.

"Please tell me if you need anything."

You chuckled, albeit pitifully. "Yeah, if you know how to magically erase all of my problems with a fairy wand or something."

"I'm being serious, y/n," he warned, but his lips betrayed him - their corners quirked up into a small smile.

"I'll be fine," you sniffed one last time, before standing up, at which he stood up with you. "I'll be okay."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I am. I think, at least."

"Alright then."

He walked back to the table on which his book lay, and after retrieving it, he headed towards the door. Before he exited, however, he stole one last glance towards you, and cleared his throat.

"You'll tell me though, right?"

"About what?" you asked as you watered some plants on a windowsill.

"If you need anything."

You turned to face him, and your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, you really meant that?"

"Of course."

"Well... I am rather short on Mora."

A glare from the man made you freeze, and then you threw up your hands like you were at gunpoint (because you pretty much were at that point).

"Just kidding!" you laughed awkwardly, and in response, his gaze softened. "But no, there's nothing. I think all that crying cleared my head up a little bit, though. Thank you, truly."

He nodded, another smile gracing his elegant features, and walked out into the cold night air.

++++

[exterminator-of-bots]

how to spot a bot!

Having trouble? Unsure if your followers are bots or not? Don’t worry, and read this handy post! Firstly, the most common kinda of bots are the pornographic type. These bots are made using scripts owners of dodgy websites have bought. At least 20 of them may follow you every day due to the newest bot wave. Their purpose is to get people to click on the links they attach to posts or in reblogs, which lead them to dodgy porn sites very likely filled with a million viruses waiting to infect your device.

So here’s some tips on checking whether it’s a BOT or NOT!

Firstly, check the blog’s name. If it’s a string of random words together, such as the example provided below, it’s very likely a bot. Another one is when the blog’s name is a random name and a bunch of numbers behind it, such as emily1863.

This is an example of a porn bot’s blog.

Another very important thing to check is the profile avatar / icon. If it is the default tumblr avatar show below, or a suggestive picture of a girl / guy (although it’s usually pictures of girls), it’s another sign that it’s a bot.

Here are some default tumblr avatar examples.

Next, check the posts. Are they posting links to other websites with suggestive / inappropriate thumbnails or just links in general in unrelated tags? It’s a bot. OR are they completely empty, with no posts at all? It’s likely that this one is a new bot that hasn’t posted yet. People call these blank blogs, and sometimes they are new users who haven’t posted, or lurkers. I’ll make a more detailed post on them later.

Here’s an example of a bot’s posts. Notice the tags, especially. They are all innocent looking tags, mostly for fandoms and I don’t even want to ask why they put it in the bread tag. It seems to me that these bots take random trending tags and post in them.

Common tags these bots reside in are the lgbt tags, mostly the #aromantic and #asexual tags (why are they posting porn bots in these? the people here literally don’t want to have sex!) and #transgender.

however, they can be found in pretty much any popular tag if you scroll long enough.

Okay, so I’ve found a bot. WHAT DO I DO???

A simple answer is to block so you don’t have to see them anymore, but it's not the best method. If you just block them, they will still stay on the site and clog up people’s dashboards.

instead, here's a better way. you should report AND block! That way, these bots’ accounts will be removed from tumblr!

how to report / block? Here’s a picture guide!

click on the 3 dots on the side of a post.

when you report you’ll be led to this page.

Please report them for spam / bot, NOT sexually explicit material. Reporting them for explicit content will simply get them shadow banned, but their blogs will still be accessible somehow. Also because it’s more spam when they are posting in unrelated tags.

but if you report them for spam, these blogs will be deleted! Hooray!

another great thing is you can flag and block them at the same time, as seen in the image above! Killing two birds with one stone!

I hope this mini guide helped you guys! Oh, and one more thing.

PLEASE DONT CLICK ON ANY LINK THESE BOTS SEND! THEY USUALLY CONTAIN MALWARE OR THEY COULD LOCK YOU OUT OF YOUR TUMBLR AND TURN THE ACC INTO A BOT ACC!

stay safe, and happy bot hunting!

[sweetiecutiedarling]

What Does Harry Look Like?

When I write Take Me To Voldemort (<- link to AO3), this is what I imagine Harry James Potter looks like... (Please don't read if you're not up to date on the story, Chapter 45, because I will be going over scars and such that would be spoilers.)

Harry is an average-sized guy. He's not super skinny like seekers tend to be, but he isn't overly broad either. He's been intentionally training his entire life and does mostly cardio and has done a little bit of muggle fighting training. This results in a somewhat lean build. He's biracial (Indian and white) with warm brown skin that isn't quite as dark as his dad's. (He certainly doesn't get mistaken for a white man.) His hair is dark black and messy, prone to knot itself when he gets uncomfortable and his magic gets out of control and kept short enough that it doesn't come down to his shoulders but has reached his chin by where we are now (chapter 45). He usually keeps it at a few inches in length, so it doesn't go much past his ears but it is big, fluffy energy. His hair is a little wavy and very voluminous.

He wears the iconic wire frame, circle-shaped glasses but he gets them from a wizarding provider and they are better about staying on/resistant to summoning for that reason. Behind his glasses, he has bright green eyes and when he is dueling or otherwise angry they look almost like a killing curse. In so many ways he looks like his father, but these eyes are clearly from his mother.

Harry has a litany of scars on his person. He has the lightning bolt scar, which I imagine looks more like what it looks like when lightning hits something and spreads. (Like this.) It doesn't go past his eyebrows and it takes over about half of his forehead. The front of his left shoulder has a scar from the cursed knife that the Masked Death Eater threw at him when death eaters attacked the Falmouth Falcon's tryouts. He has a scar in the center of his chest from when Bellatrix cursed him, it's still a purple-y red color. He has a big scar across his face, from the top of his right forehead through his right eyebrow and eye and down to his chin. Most of his scars are covered by his fur when he transforms but the scars on his face show more clearly because his fur is not as fluffy there.

He has a growing collection of tattoos, starting with two as of chapter 45. His first is a sketch-style snitch that flys around his right arm. It's all black ink and appears still to muggles. It's a little smaller than a standard snitch. His second is a much larger image. It is a bastardized version of the iconography that Voldemort uses. A cracked skull and a dead snake. Once again it is a blank ink drawing and though it does not move at all, instead done in the muggle style, the snitch does fly through and interact with it.

Harry dresses casually, leaning towards jeans and t-shirts though he also likes workout pants and shorts as well. He likes to custom-make t-shirts at a muggle screenprint shop (I've written a list of them in a previous post her) and has a notice-me-not hat that he wears when he's trying to avoid being mobbed. He doesn't like wearing his school tie and forgets his Head Boy pin more often than not. He can't be convinced to wear his uniform shoes, Hogwarts professors gave up on it in his first year. He wears tennis shoes but he does tend towards solid black designs. When he dresses nice he prefers a wizarding style because they have button ups that don't require a tie, because the colar does not fold over.

Now I don't know how interested anyone is in this, but it's interesting to me to combine it all into one place.

[magioftheseas]

Pink to Red

Summary: Hinata meets an Ultimate that desperately needs his help. And one that desperately wants him to prove himself.

Rating: T+

Warnings: Graphic gore, notably eye trauma. Manipulation. Yep.

Notes: This is an old WIP I finished up and finally posted for Komaeda Day! Iiiiit’s like a prelude to a Mastermind Komaeda AU. That’s fun, I think. Putting under a read more because it starts rough lol.

***Alternate Ao3 Link*** Commission? Donate?

It starts because Hinata doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so bruised—so battered and fragile that his heart picks up and lodges itself in his throat as he tentatively reaches out, and gingerly gathers the beaten body into his arms to take to the nurse. Said body isn’t even conscious, and he’s almost terrified that each rustle he hears is really the shifting of broken, shattered bones, and what he’s handling is cracking glass, ready to fall apart any moment in his hold and slice through him, leaving his blood to pool on the already darkening stains across the tiles. But all the same, Hinata walks, careful and wary, and that head lolls against his chest, and perhaps, it’s his pounding pulse that wakes the other, even though Hinata doesn’t initially notice those seemingly swollen shut eyes twitching before slowly opening to reveal darkened pools of silver.

He does groan, but Hinata doesn’t stop for a second. It’s only when he gets to the nurse, and hands him over for treatment, that he really looks at the other boy past his injuries. How confused he seems to be, and lost, looking around drearily and dazedly with his blank gaze where, to Hinata’s further horror, one of the eyes was red where it was supposed to be white, the silver standing out starkly despite its bloated, purpling surroundings and lid. He nearly choked, unable to focus on the fretting nurse asking what had happened.

But that boy looks at Hinata, stilling him and sickening him with pity and disgust for whoever did this, and then that boy smiles brightly at him—and it’s really something, spreading across the cut, bloodied lips and lighting up that pale, pulverized face to the point where had it been any other situation in any other untouched state, it would have left anyone who saw it breathless.

It’s only later that Hinata sees the badge etched on his uniform, and he realizes that this boy is from the main section of HPA—an elusive elite that before now, he had only ever admired and envied from a distance. And...god, how could he have ever expected this would be how he met one face-to-face?

There’s something exceptionally cruel about this situation, and there’s something especially crueler that it’s because of this that the first words an elite says to him directly end up being heartrendingly sincere, “Thank you.”

--

He stays as the other is bandaged. The first thing he learns is that for his injuries and supposedly fragility, this elite student is compliant without complaint, and the most he gets from the other as a sign that he’s indeed in pain is a brief flinch when the nurse disinfects and dresses those wounds just a touch too hard. It’s impressive, Hinata thinks, admirable—but a part of him only feels worse as the pedestal that this elite calmly sits on seems to tower higher and higher.

“You’re set,” the nurse declares cheerily, even as Hinata stares mournfully, doubtfully, at the other, at where the bandages almost wrap around the lengths of his arms, and how his face was handled as well—half of it almost covered by patches and band-aids, including that reddened eye.  Those bruises were still painfully visible and blatant—that pallor provided so much contrast... “Promise to take it easy, okay? Hinata-kun, it really was wonderful of you to bring him in. I’ll see to it that whoever did this is reported—to think your classmates would harm an elite student...”

Hinata just swallows and nods in response, and though the knowledge that whoever did this is likely to face serious, serious punishment isn’t all that comforting, he accepts all the same. The nurse turns away from them, off to handle this or return to her work, he isn’t wholly sure and it doesn’t really matter for now.

He needed to head back too. He vaguely glances in the other’s direction, stiffly muttering that the other really should rest or something, and just as he’s turned away, he’s stopped by a thin delicate hand wrapping around his wrist loosely but feeling like a vice in how Hinata froze with shock. He could barely meet the elite’s gaze—that one mostly good eye of his intently searching him before he could have sworn a spark flickered across that gray, and he stilled him utterly with another smile.

“Hinata-kun, was it?” That voice was soft and unassuming, but Hinata felt it seep into his very being. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m...”

--

Komaeda. Komaeda Nagito. It’s not a terribly plain one like his own, and it matches its reedy, serene owner well, even covered in injuries for the while that follows. It also matches in a very peculiar...strangeness.

As an elite student, Hinata should not be seeing Komaeda in the reserve course as often as he does. He should not encounter Komaeda as often as he does when they don’t share the same department and that metaphorical river rages on between main students and reserve students, too treacherous to swim across though many uselessly try all the same, Hinata included. But Komaeda doesn’t even seem affected by this dissonance—seems to act like it doesn’t matter to him.

And really, why should it? It’s easy to pretend you don’t have privileges. It’s easy to overlook the struggling of those under you—just crush the straggling bottom-dwellers under your feet and don’t miss a beat. And that’s just—

...A cruel way to think. And presumptuous. For all Hinata knows, Komaeda’s content could have come from his hard work being validated in a way so many others weren’t so fortunate. It’s not his fault the world could be imbalanced and unfair. Hell, Komaeda could have worked even harder than the rest of them to get where he was.

...No, it was just fortune, he later figured out. Easy to resent him for, but all the same, it wasn’t something Hinata could blame him for.

--

“Hinata-kun!”

It’s strange. Hearing that soft voice call out his name so enthusiastically is strange. He’s almost sure it’s never going to be something he’s used to. Nor is Komaeda trailing up behind him, chipper and carefree even though he’s still bandaged and bruised, and only that one uncovered eye has a bright gleam. Hinata stops out of courtesy and pity, allowing him to catch up, but he’s still on edge the closer that elite student inches towards him—like his unmoving feet are somehow nearing the edge of that cliff over the rapids.

“Is it free period for reserve students as well, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda asks him, and Hinata swallows before mutely nodding. That smile brightens, he holds his breath, and the other simply continues, “Do you mind if I spend time around you? I’m always painfully bored during these times, you see.”

Shouldn’t you be hanging around actual HPA students?! But Hinata holds his tongue and shrugs.

“If...that’s what you want... I don’t know why me though...”

“Why?” Komaeda blinks once like he’s really taken off-guard like it isn’t obvious, and then, “Well, it’s because you interest me, of course.”

...And it’s been a long, long time since anyone called him remotely ‘interesting’. So he has nothing to say to that—and he can only flinch as Komaeda cheerfully comes closer, with a brief brush of contact between their sides, and that bright smile on his face widens.

Surprisingly, being stuck on that smile didn’t feel as much like being stuck drowning in those currents as he thought it would. If anything, it was more like being stuck in fog—still blurring but he was still breathing.

And with a puff of air from his lips, Hinata mutely followed wherever Komaeda lead, all while he stared at that bright, bright smile on that broken face as though it were his one source of light.

--

“Hinata-kun, what do you think of Hope’s Peak?”

It’s one of the first questions he’s asked, and it’s the first time Hinata can tear his eyes from Komaeda to instead look to the main building—tall and proud on that hill—where Komaeda, too, has his sights set.

“I...admire Hope’s Peak more than anything...”

That’s why I’m here in the first place.

“Oh, same here!” Komaeda turned to face him radiantly, wind rustling his hair and he held his hands out with the brightest of laughs. “The breeding ground of hope—the housing place of the world’s very own potential leaders and ideals—doesn’t Hope’s Peak only ever sound like something incredible? Like a very blessing from the heavens itself?”

“Yeah...” he agrees, nodding as he swallowed. His voice shakes, just a bit. “I-It’s really something special, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s expectable, isn’t it? A special school for special people. Any other ol’ normal school simply won’t do at all.” Komaeda shakes his head, chuckling still. “Ah, but, if anyone should know that, it’s Hinata-kun.”

Hinata himself trembles, just a bit. “Y... Yeah...”

“Oh, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda murmurs then, and he reaches out to take Hinata’s hands in his own. They’re cold yet soft, strange yet wonderful. There’s a lovely twinkle in Komaeda’s eye...

“Hinata-kun, you hate it here, don’t you?”

It was only later that Hinata would realize that it had been a twinkle of malice.

--

“The reserve course,” Komaeda starts gently. “The backup course—the reject course. How could anyone be happy there?”

He strokes over Hinata’s wrists, over his fluttering pulse.

“You pay and pay, and for what? Simply for Hope’s Peak to grace you with its proximity?” Komaeda gives a hard, unamused chuckle. “Rather patronizing, isn’t it? Hardly befitting for the birthplace of hope.”

Hinata watches him trace the lines of his palm with his spindly fingers. Komaeda meets his gaze almost shyly, but the real emotion he oozes is pitying compassion.

“Do you hate them? Do you wish to prove them wrong?”

Hinata’s mouth wouldn’t work no matter what he did. He just felt lost in Komaeda’s cloudy-eyed swirling gaze. In the back of his mind, he wondered how Komaeda could possibly know about the project.

“There’s potential in you,” Komaeda says suddenly. “But it’s not the kind that HPA thinks it is. You have the potential to change everything, Hinata-kun, not just the potential to be changed.”

He releases his hands and pulls away.

“I have high hopes for you as the next Kamukura Izuru.”

He turns on his heel, he gives a wave as he goes on his way.

The tips of his hair look pink, was all that crossed Hinata’s mind. Komaeda’s smile, his features, his words—they all curled around Hinata’s heart. And they all sunk in their fangs as if either meaning to hold on or to bleed him dry.

If he were to look back, he could paint himself as the victim. Could claim that Komaeda tricked him with the intention of using him. Could claim that Komaeda was the manipulator with honeyed words and a mesmerizing gaze.

But, in reality, Komaeda was just that last needed push, the last tug on his heart that helped seal his fate.

[ofmddecembverse]

OFMD Decembverse 2022 Challenge

Hello everyone, and welcome to OFMD Decembverse! It’s time to try our hand at some poetry. Please read the entire thread before participating! Our hashtag: #ofmd12verse (alternate: #ofmddecembverse).

First, link to the ao3 collection for this event: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ofmd12verse22/profile

Official Twitter for this event:

OFMD Decembverse (@ofmd12verse) / TwitterOFMD Poetry Prompt Challenge for December 2022.TWITTER

Information:

OFMD Decembverse is a month-long prompt-based challenge to write some poetry for your fandom. Poetry is seen as something intimidating and “not for people like us” to most people, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Poetry is for everyone.

Each day of December will have two prompts associated with it: A type of poetry (with instructions provided for how to write it) and a lesser-known quote from the show Our Flag Means Death that you can use as inspiration.

You do not have to follow either prompt if you do not want to. You can choose to focus only on the poetry type or the quote, or say screw it and write the poetry you want, how you want. If it’s a poem related to OFMD (or that uses these prompts), it qualifies for this challenge.

This challenge is taking place on Ao3, Twitter, and Tumblr.

Note: Some of these poetry styles (such as Shi) were developed to only work well in certain languages. I will be posting ways to adapt these to English for those who are interested. I don’t think poetry should have to be Euro-centric just because this is a predominantly English-speaking fandom.

Prompt List:

Day 1: Slam: “Wait until you hear about my life as an accountant.” Day 2: Ballad: “I loves me a thief.” Day 3: Sonnet (Iambic Pentameter): “The love of a pet makes a man weak.” Day 4: Pastoral: “We’re gonna have fun today, and that’s an order.” Day 5: Terza Rima: “If I can help this crew grow as people, then I’ve succeeded in being a pirate captain.” Day 6: Ottava Rima: “You should have stayed still, that’s kinda on you.” Day 7: Enclosed rhyme: “The rest was just gravity.” Day 8: Soliloquy: “So this whole time you were a woman?” Day 9: Blank Verse: “I’ve got more riches than you can shake a fucking stick at!” Day 10: Free Verse: “I never said that they floated.” Day 11: Ode: “You all look the same, you know.” Day 12: Lyric: “Is this all there is?” Day 13: Ballade (not the same as Ballad): “A widow’s life isn’t nearly as bad as it’s made out to be.” Day 14: Villanelle: “Mutiny is a-brewin’.” Day 15: Narrative Poetry: “I can’t believe you made me do this.” Day 16: Dissonance: “Since we’re on the subject of bad vibes…” Day 17: Assonance: “We love an audience.” Day 18: Satirical: “I’m a dirty, filthy murderer!” Day 19: Haiku (or Tanka): “And you cried all the time, and liked to pick flowers.” Day 20: Elegy: “Murder is a natural cause.” Day 21: Imagery: “We could’ve made magic.” Day 22: Alliteration: “Knives are knives, meat’s meat.” Day 23: Free Verse: “I heard the most insane rumor.” Day 24: Couplet: “You don’t get food if you’ve been invaded.” Day 25: Shi Poetry (see guide for English interpretation of rules): “I’m the Black Cat of Death.” Day 26: Fable: “Read it and weep, my friend! Adventure awaits!” Day 27: Ghazal: “God’s not a fan.” Day 28: Limerick: “The vengeancer and the vengeancee.” Day 29: Tercet: “You’ll sign a confession to that extent, hmm?” Day 30: Monorhyme: “Avast ye!” Day 31: Epic: “My Wondrous Journey: A Life at Sea.”

Rules: 1. Please tag properly and liberally for common/reasonable triggers. Mark explicit verse as explicit for those of us who browse social media at work.

2. No racism/homophobia/transphobia that isn’t both tagged AND used in the storytelling process (such as to express discomfort with these concepts or to show characters being victims of these concepts).

3. If your poetry is explicit, tag that shit please!

4. Don’t worry about getting it perfectly right, poetry is about expressing yourself and feeling free as fuck while doing it.

Frequently Asked Questions:

What if I've never written poetry before/am not very good? Poetry is one of the oldest art forms in the world. People used poetry to pass down wisdom, stories, and share their culture before they could write. It is truly for everyone, including you. It has a stereotype for being gatekept and that only certain people can appreciate it, but I promise that that is a lie. If you can type words, you can do this.

Do I have to participate in every day/prompt? No, and it's likely that it will be really difficult to keep up with them all. Do what speaks to you and makes you happy.

What if I don't want to make the kind of poetry in that day's prompt? Then screw it, pick another kind that speaks to you. This challenge is supposed to help you learn to express yourself in different ways, but if you can't express yourself properly through a haiku or a sonnet, do something else that speaks to you. All poetry is good poetry.

Do I have to follow the quote prompt for each day? No. Some people don't know where to begin, so I've provided quotes from the show that generally aren't used/referenced much in fandom. But if you have a better idea you are obligated to use that one instead, because again, expressing yourself through verse is the most important part.

Do my poems have to rhyme? No, not all poetry rhymes, and some kinds explicitly don't.

Can my poetry be explicit/sexy? Hell yeah. Just tag that shit, please.

Can I participate by writing for other fandoms? Yes! While this challenge was created with OFMD in mind, all fandoms could use a nice injection of verse in them. All I ask is that you use at least one of the prompts for that day (be it the poetry type or quote) so it relates to this challenge in some way. I know that many people also write for WWDITS and those fandoms are more than welcome here. I purposely chose quotes that aren't a direct reference to characters in the show so that you could branch out.

Do I have to write a poem about the exact context of the quote? No, absolutely not. It can be about anything. The quote is just there to get your juices flowing.

Where can I post my work? Ao3: This collection is the place to post it. Twitter: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will retweet works under those tags. Tumblr: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will reblog works under those tags.

[heartstringsnheadspace]

ChatGPT’s Response to ‘Emotional Avoidance and Relationships’

This is a powerful and insightful journal entry, showing a lot of self-awareness about emotional patterns and challenges. Let’s break it down and provide some analysis, along with a few CBT-based suggestions that might help.

Key Themes & Patterns:

Emotional Avoidance and Suppression:

You recognize a tendency to escape from uncomfortable emotions, which is a common defense mechanism. Avoiding these emotions might feel safe in the short term, but it prevents you from developing resilience in handling them.

The mind going “blank” or feeling “paralyzed” during high emotional situations could be a result of your fight-flight-freeze response being triggered. It sounds like the freeze response is active here, leaving you unable to speak even if you’ve planned your thoughts ahead.

Impact on Relationships & Problem-Solving:

You mention how shutting down affects your ability to solve problems effectively, especially in moments of conflict. This is a significant insight because it highlights that avoidance not only affects your inner world but also your external relationships.

There seems to be a mismatch between your coping style (retreating) and your partner’s style (processing things through talking). This can create tension and misunderstandings, even if both of you are trying your best.

Difficulty with Assertiveness and Boundaries:

You mention struggles with asserting your needs and boundaries. This could be linked to the avoidance of conflict and discomfort—asserting boundaries often requires confronting emotional tension, which you’ve gotten used to suppressing or avoiding.

Underlying Thought Patterns (CBT Perspective):

Core Belief: You might have internalized the belief that expressing emotions or needs will lead to negative outcomes (e.g., conflict, rejection, or being overwhelmed). This belief may drive your avoidance strategies.

Automatic Thoughts: When faced with emotional discomfort or conflict, your automatic thought might be, “It’s safer to retreat,” or “I won’t be able to handle this.” These thoughts reinforce your habit of shutting down.

Suggestions for Growth & Practice:

Learning to Sit with Discomfort:

Mindfulness Practice: One effective way to develop tolerance for uncomfortable emotions is through mindfulness. Try to notice and label your emotions without judgment (e.g., “I’m feeling frustrated,” “I notice tension in my chest”).

Body Scan Technique: Pay attention to how your body reacts when you feel emotionally overwhelmed. Practicing awareness of bodily sensations can help you stay connected to the present moment instead of dissociating or freezing.

Cognitive Reframing:

Work on challenging the automatic thought that retreating is the only way to stay safe. For example, if you think, “I won’t be able to handle this,” try to replace it with, “It’s okay if I feel overwhelmed right now; I don’t need to have the perfect response immediately.”

Remind yourself that emotions, even uncomfortable ones, are temporary. You don’t need to act on them right away; just noticing them is progress.

Gradual Exposure to Conflict and Assertiveness:

Start Small: If asserting yourself feels too difficult in certain situations, practice with low-stakes boundaries first (e.g., expressing a small preference like “I’d rather stay in tonight”).

Prepare Scripts: For conversations with your partner, you might find it helpful to write out what you want to say beforehand. Even if you struggle in the moment, just attempting to communicate your thoughts bit by bit is progress.

Co-Regulation with Your Partner:

Share your challenges with your partner (if you haven’t already) so they understand why you might need time before responding. You could agree on a “pause and return” strategy, where you take a break from the conversation when it becomes overwhelming and revisit it when you feel more prepared.

Encouraging Perspective:

The fact that you’re journaling about these patterns shows a deep commitment to personal growth. Learning to sit with emotions is hard—especially when the habit of suppressing them has been in place for a long time. But with small steps, you can build emotional resilience and learn to respond rather than react to situations. You're already on the right path by recognizing these patterns, and change will come gradually with practice.

You don't need to be perfect at managing emotions right away. Even just noticing when you’re shutting down, without judgment, is a step forward. You're giving yourself the gift of understanding, and that’s the first step to healing. Keep going—you're doing the work that matters.

[kymmiejournals]

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[plantfell]

Even with Little Vash's abrupt exit, there's still almost too much going on, or maybe it just feels that way because Knives is avoiding processing the crumpled pile of of red on the ground or thinking about why Legato and his brother are now covered in so much crimson. His heart torn between taking solace in Spirale's unique form of reincarnation and the younger plant's warning to not trust it's reliability.

For better or worse, the Revenant's rant ends up being an anchor for Knives to focus on. Each word is a dagger in his heart. None of it is unjustified, and the plant finds himself at a loss for words. A state made worse by the living Legato's quiet pleas whispering in his mind. He has no apology sincere enough for the dead, and no way to aid the living.

Then that pile of red begins moving. It stands, and staggers towards him with no will of it's own. Even if he'd realistically never arrived early enough to save the younger plant, guilt and frustration still causes his guts to churn uncomfortably. If only there had been something he could do. But, there wasn't, and now there was nothing he could do to stop his quickly approaching end.

As slowly cooling fingers wrap around his throat, his gaze shifts past the corpse's blank face to the living Stampede, and a choked noise of despair bubbles out of his throat and forces it's way past the unfeeling hands. The plant knows that look intimately. It isn't quite as violent as a Last Run, but it is unmistakably the decay that threatens to come for all of them. How long does his brother have left? Hours? Minutes? Either way his twin is far past the point of no return.

I should have stayed in bed, Knives thinks to himself, but immediately regrets it. Even if, objectively, his attempt at interfering was only ever going to result in providing another corpse for the pile.

His end almost certainly guaranteed, Knives spends his last moments smoothing out the edges in any way he can. Hoping the living Legato is still listening, Knives directs a few stray thoughts his way with a glance. 'I'll be back,' he promises. 'Take care of yourself, I'll be back in a day.'

Then his attention turns back to his decaying twin. Given the lack of reply earlier, he's not sure how much of a connection they still hold with the state he's in, but Knives doesn't dwell on it. Instead, he spends his last few fading moments shouting reassurances down that tattered mental link. Vague statements promising that everything will be okay, and that they'll recover from this.

Even if the words don't make it through, he hopes that their warmth will at least leave an impression on the other plant, and provide some comfort in Vash's last moments. If nothing else, they let Knives feel like he contributed something as his consciousness fades and his body slacks until he's just as lifeless as the corpse strangling him.

Reduced to half-strength, the younger Typhoon's strike proves to be lacking in sufficient force to incapacitate the ghost. Without the space to follow up quickly enough, Vash still expects a counter-assault of some kind, bracing his lost-tech arm in front of him, and a leg behind him. But he's lacking entirely in his usual inhuman reflexes, too. Vash's head doesn't even have time to swivel, let alone adjust the guard of his pauldron.

So when his friend fires his predecessor's signature weapon point-blank, it's over.

"Nnnh—" Vash's last sensible noise only gets as far as his throat before the terrible sound of it is swallowed by the second report.

The effect isn't instant, but it's close. In the span of time the target's body is first forced to flinch, his face wrinkles, like he's thinking through a particularly difficult riddle, like he can solve the sudden mystery of his ribcage shattering and splitting inside of him. And his heart, ever the traitorous thing, only helps him die faster.

The sound of Vash hitting the ground is muffled; reduced to meat and clothing, a generous amount of blood flows out from the holes carved out of him, and out from his mouth, his eyes. To any of the surviving eyewitnesses, it's unclear: it's either nervous impulse firing for one last time, or it's his last intentional movement, but those eyes roll to try and look behind him. Did anyone else get hit? he thinks, and dies.

Now there's a good puppet that won't fight back.

[dearviper]

Hi! Can you do a anakin x Jedi!reader and it’s set during the clone wars? Maybe anakin, ahsoka, reader, and her own padawan are on a mission?!

Sure! This was a challenging one for me in that I had to do a lot more research than I normally do for fics, but a welcome challenge for sure! I really hope you like this. Here is...

Emotion or Peace?

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader One-Shot

WARNINGS: None

AO3 Link

“I understand your position, Senator,” you spoke slowly, trying not to clench your teeth in annoyance. “But if you would just allow the Republic a mining permit-”

“-you will loot Lothal of its natural resources and leave our citizens in an even more dire position,” Senator Azadi finished your sentence with a hard look. “Do you truly expect us to simply hand over the only wealth this planet has?”

You looked to Anakin for help and he cleared his throat, speaking up. “I’m sure the Galactic Senate will gladly provide any assistance-”

“Bah!” Azadi snorted, rolling his eyes. “We’ve been petitioning the Senate for aid for months now. Each time, we’ve been denied due to lack of funding. Don’t tell me the Republic has suddenly found currency reserves?”

“All available funding is going toward the war effort. There are funds, but none that can be diverted.”

“And what of the people who live in the Republic? Are they to starve while you fight some far-off war?” Azadi demanded. “The Outer Rim may not be a critical battleground, Masters, but that does not mean our people matter any less.”

“You’re right,” your padawan, Ezra, cut in quickly.

You shot him a warning glance, but he pretended not to see it and pressed on.

“You have something we need, and that gives you leverage. Tell us what aid Lothal requires, and we will bring your appeal to the Senate in exchange for the permits.”

You schooled your expression, trying not to reveal your irritation with your padawan. Anakin, sensing your vexation, brushed his hand against yours under the table.

Senator Azadi leaned back, eyeing Ezra thoughtfully before turning back to you. “When we receive the aid, I will issue the mining permits myself — and not a day before.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Senator.”

You rose with the rest of the delegation and bowed to the Lothalian Senate before exiting the room.

“That was a foolish move,” you chided your padawan when you returned to the ship.

“How so? We’re going to get the permits,” Ezra replied with a grin.

“Master, did you truly expect Senator Azadi to grant the permit without compensation?” Ahsoka chimed in.

“No, I didn’t,” you answered, shooting Ahsoka a sharp look. “I expected the Senator to counter our offer with one of his own, and then for us to counter that, and so on until we reached a compromise. That’s generally how negotiations work. Instead, Ezra undermined me, gave up all our bargaining power, and handed Azadi a blank check.”

“Oh.” At least your padawan had the decency to look embarrassed. 

Ahsoka, on the other hand, merely shrugged. “We’re still getting what we wanted.”

“Snips, maybe stay out of this one,” Anakin advised in an amused tone. Shrugging again, she left the room.

“Ezra,” you said, tone softening. “You grew up on Lothal, right?”

He nodded bashfully, all traces of smugness having dissipated.

“Your love of your people influenced you to make an unwise bargain. A Jedi must discipline their mind to disregard any attachments. You know the Code: There is no emotion, there is peace. You must take those words to heart.”

You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “It is a difficult lesson to learn, and an even harder one to live by. But I have faith in you and your abilities.”

“Thank you, Master,” he said, giving a small smile in return before bowing and joining Ahsoka in the cockpit.

“You handled that well, Master,” Anakin commended, approaching you from behind when the door shut.

He wrapped his arms around you and you leaned back into his embrace.

“I’d be more inclined to agree with you if I didn’t feel like such a sanctimonious hypocrite,” you grumbled as he pressed a kiss against the crown of your head. “‘Disregard any attachments.’ Like I have any right to tell him that when I… when we…”

You trailed off as Anakin began to kiss down the side of your neck.

“You’re making it very hard for me to stew in my shame,” you sighed, turning around to face him.

He responded by pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then my plan is working.”

“Anakin Skywalker,” you gasped in faux shock. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“It depends,” he smirked. “Is it working?”

“A little too well,” you murmured, pulling him in for a long, slow kiss. He tried to deepen it, fingers curling into the fabric of your tunic as he pulled you flush against his chest.

Reluctantly, you broke free from his grasp. “We had better join our padawans before they get suspicious.”

“Later?” he asked, tugging you back in.

“Later,” you confirmed, pressing a final, loving kiss to his cheek.

Star Wars Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Yandere Wesker- Endings

Note: ok lovelies, it appears this is the end of the Yadere Wesker series. I asked you to choose what type of ending you would prefer. Most of you wanted the "bad" ending, where the reader stays with Wesker, but there were a few who wanted the "good" ending as well, where the reader is free. Sooo, I decided to give you both endings :)). 

If you have no idea about what I’m talking here, check these links for part 1 and part 2. 

Warnings: heavy angst, brainwashing. Dark content bellow! Read at your own risk.

Pairing: Albert Wesker x Reader

Ko-fi: if you want to commission or simply support me, visit my ko-fi page. 

"I can’t let you go." He said as he injected the serum into…

Your arm. He wants you next to him. He can’t let you go yet, and he’ll have to figure out how to overcome his grief. For now, he hugs you tight and tries to thing of what to do next. 

“Why would you want to leave after all? You should feel safe and protected near me. I'm giving you enough freedom. ” He said this as he tried to convince himself that he was doing the right thing. 

In the following days, he keeps working on his own false reality, that you are happy even if you’re drugged, and that you’ll just have to simply accept this lifestyle. 

He tries to do the things you two used to enjoy, but it’s not the same. After a few attempts, he realised that the reason you two can’t is because you are not the same. Instead, he learns to accept that this is who you are now, and he’ll figure out some new things. 

As for the serum, he’ll assign someone else to do it for a while. He can’t be near you when you receive your dose, as he’ll feel that crushing guilt again.

Wesker's heart will be crushed again once he realises that there is no way to grow his family. He’ll push himself away from you for a while because he can’t stand your presence, not because you annoy him, but because he feels useless. 

Months of solitude made him believe that he didn’t need a perfect little family, because your presence is enough. As a result, after he comes out, he hugs you tight, promising you that he’ll be close to you forever. You feel trapped like never before, but you never fully acknowledge it. Instead, you began to cry again, not knowing why you felt so much pressure on your chest. 

“Happy tears, dear? Oh, I’m flattered. I’m sorry for being away from you for so long. I promise it won’t happen again. In fact, I have a surprise for you! ” He pulled away just so he could take a little collar from his pocket. It's a black one, with his initials on it. 

“It’s for you.” He said as he put the collar around your neck. It fits perfectly! Don’t worry, the material won’t hurt your skin. ” You began to cry louder and you felt the leather pressed around your neck. “Oh dear, don’t cry. I didn’t know how much you liked it.” 

Wesker was delusional at this point. He convinced himself that you are happy and that there is no reason to feel guilty. He provides you with everything you need. Why would you need to be off-serum anyway? This way, you will appreciate more what he does for you. 

More months passed by, and he got used to your blank stare. However, all these suppressed emotions lead him to become paranoid that someone will screw up your treatment, forget to give you the serum, or that you’ll simply snap back to reality all of a sudden. To get rid of this paranoia, he chose to lock you up in a very secure studio, which he’ll supervise all the time while he is away. He’ll choose some trustworthy people to take care of you since you’re barely able to eat by yourself. He’ll come up with a lie so it won’t raise suspicion about your state to your new caretakers. You’ll sleep there, eat there, and raise your future children there. 

Eventually, the serum will affect your brain functions. Let’s say that the serum won’t be needed for too long to keep you a vegetable. 

You are no longer yourself, and any hope to restore you is lost. Your mind and spirit are dead, and now you are waiting for your body to follow. 

One thing is for sure. No matter how damaged your brain is, Wesker will never let you go.

His own arm. He knew that if he were sober, he would chase and catch you no matter how much he prepared for the moment. He sits on the bed and waits for the serum to make him dizzy. He looks up at you and sees the same blank stare. 

“It shouldn’t take long,” he says, knowing that you’ll regain your consciousness shortly. 

He lays down as he feels the drug kicking in. The room is spinning and he feels more sleepy with every second. That’s because he injected a much more concentrated dose to knock him out fast and long enough so you could escape. 

You move your eyes from him and look around instead. Everything seems so familiar all of a sudden. You stare back at Wesker and have a feeling you haven’t seen him in ages.“What happened?” You ask yourself. 

Curiosity got the best of you and you began to wonder around, leaving Wesker behind. You recognise this room as being your bedroom, then you see yourself in the mirror yelping. You changed drastically. You lost weight, you didn’t have the same hairstyle, the same clothes. 

You looked back at Wesker in shock and you wanted to snuggle in his arms to comfort you, but you were stopped by an intense sentiment of fear. The man that took care of you made you scared, and you didn’t know why. Then it all came together when you started to get flashbacks.

With steady steps, you approach the man again. He looked up at you. Through his half-lidded eyes, you could see the grief and sorrow. The moment he saw some clarity in your eyes, he knew that this was the end.

“You’re free…” he said before the drug took over his mind and body. He was sleeping so peacefully. Something in the back of your mind told you that he wasn’t a threat any longer and that you should leave instead of cuddling next to him. You listened to that voice. 

As you ran to your freedom, you saw various people. Some of them had a concerned expression on their faces, and some were relieved. However, nobody did anything. 

You didn’t need any help, though. As your mind began to be more and more clear, you remembered the building and its exits. You made your way to the nearest one and finally got out. You inhaled the fresh air and let the sun warm your skin. You realised just then how cold it was inside. With a foggy mind, you continued to walk instead of run, as you saw that nobody was coming after you. You walked until you found a jeep. Inside you found the keys, money, and, among some papers, a passport. It turned out to be yours as it had your name on it, but you looked nothing like the person in the picture. 

Your foggy mind didn’t notice the woman in a white coat that was walking away from the vehicle. She came before you and prepared the car. She didn’t care if Wesker killed her either, as long as you'd be free.

Some flashbacks hit you again, this time a lot more clearly. As a result, you turned on the engine and drove to your freedom. 

Even if you were free, you couldn’t stop crying. You were back to your old self; you were still dizzy, but it was you. All those years were taken away from you. Your family and friends must believe you've died. You can’t get back that time he stole, but you can do your best to move on. Battling these memories, you drove alone in the night enjoying the sweet taste of freedom.