#I write a character who has a very visible scar as a reminder of something they did Right and it's very reassuring for them

[wolves-in-the-world]

so help me I've been thinking again about eliot and shame and moral injury and how healing from that means doing good things to sort of shift your centre of gravity towards something more wholesome and it's making me very, very soppy about every time eliot gets to use his skills - honed through war and murder and I don't like to speculate what else - to help people, and maybe gets to feel a little warm about it, or maybe just gets to sleep a little easier at night, his heart less of a clenched fist inside him.

[ellecdc]

HI QUEEN 🎀🩷🎀🩷

I literally just atalkws all your marauders fics for like 2 solid hours. You're writing is healing me at this point.

I was wondering if your requests were open? And if they are can I please request a fic that happens directly after the first war (marauders era) and reader has ptsd and maybe got triggered by the smallest of domestic actions done by one of the boys and comfort ensues for the episode and aftermath guilt?

I'm sorry it's oddly specific, just fighting some demons rn and your awesome writing kinda does the trick heheh

please feel free to ignore this one! love u <33

thanks for your request, love. hope things have been easier on you as of late <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with PTSD [1.5k words]

CW: PTSD, post-war, mention of past character death/grief, panic attack, hurt/comfort

The war had taken its toll on all of you; ghosts of the people you lost and the people you all once were haunted you, reminding you of scars both visible and invisible that coloured every aspect of your life.

There were things that the four of you staunchly refused to talk about; Remus refused to speak about his time in the feral packs, Sirius refused to speak about his brother, James refused to speak about Peter’s betrayal, and you refused to speak about what happened when you went missing.

Perhaps there were healthier ways to manage the grief and pain, perhaps you would all benefit from reconsidering those lines each of you had drawn in the sand.

But you were all alive, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you, and for now, that was enough. 

It was enough until it wasn’t.

It was enough until Remus was sitting on the floor of your kitchen with you pulled into his chest as Sirius hovered in front of you, holding your hands against his chest as he begged you to breathe, to copy his breaths, to come back to him. 

To come back to him. 

You and James had been fussing in the kitchen making breakfast this morning; Remus being wholly uninterested in mornings but very much interested in the two of you had been sitting at the kitchen table in camaraderie as Sirius shuffled sleepily into the room. 

He took the time to admire Sirius’ sleep rumpled hair and the faint lines over his face and bare torso, clearly having rolled straight out of bed before going in search of his loves. 

You were reaching into a cupboard to retrieve Sirius’ favourite mug when he came up behind you and placed his hand at the nape of your neck at the exact moment that James burned himself at the stove; cursing loudly and dropping the pan which landed on the floor with a bang, closely followed by the sound of breaking glass. 

Remus was up from his seat in record time, aching joints be damned, and at James’ side.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay; sorry.” James gritted out, acquiescing to Remus’ probes and allowing him to examine his hand.

“Awe bubs, you got yourself good.” Remus cooed as he cast a quick aguamenti over the burn.  

“Shit, yeah.” He breathed out. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What broke?” Remus asked then, looking down at the pan that had landed horribly close to James’ feet and searching for evidence of a broken bowl.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not drop something?” Remus clarified.

James shook his head with furrowed brows. “Just the pan.”

Their bemusement turned to concern when they heard a choked “baby” coming from Sirius’ lips. 

Remus’ stomach dropped as he turned to see you half keeled over, leaning against the counter with one hand at your abdomen and the other over your mouth as if you were suppressing a scream. 

“Is she hurt!?” James asked quickly, moving swiftly along from his own pain.

“It…I- it was me. I-” Sirius started, sinking to the floor in time with you as your legs seemed wholly unable to hold you up in your current state. 

“She’s panicking.” Remus surmised aloud, quickly tiptoeing over what he realised were shards of Sirius’ mug that you’d been procuring moments before. 

“Dove? Hey, look at me.” Remus offered as he crouched in front of you.

You shook your head quickly and sucked in a stilted breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my love, just look at me.”

You shook your head again and tried to back further into the lower cabinets as if hoping they would simply swallow you whole.

“I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” Sirius pleaded, “we’re not worried about the mess.”

“I’m okay.” You sobbed, sounding anything but.

“I know you are, dove. You’re okay, come now.” Remus said as he finally joined you on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets and pulling you into his lap so that you were fully enveloped in his embrace. “Big breath, babylove, can you do that for me?”

You made a high pitched keening sound and shook your head quickly. “I’m sorry.”

Remus looked over to notice that James had his burnt hand held protectively against his chest while his other kneaded into Sirius’ shoulder as he whispered into his ear.

“Look, dove, Jamie can fix the mug no problem, and Siri’s gonna help you take big breaths, okay?” Remus tired then, stirring both boys into action as James straightened and cast a quick reparo to Sirius’ mug and Sirius shuffled over on his knees to station himself between Remus’ spread legs and in front of you. 

“Can you copy me, baby? Like this?” Sirius begged. “Just like this.”

Sirius pried your hands away from your face and encouraged them to flatten out against his chest where Remus was sure you could feel the hammering of his heart as he took a dramatic breath for your benefit. 

You choked out a few more apologies that both boys gently admonished you for as you tried to copy Sirius’ breaths; they were nowhere near as deep or graceful, but Remus was thankful for your effort nonetheless. 

James reappeared then, his own hand now wrapped with medical tape and smelling strongly of Remus’ healing balms when he held something out for you.

“Angel, can you do me a favour?” He asked extraordinarily softly that it even had Remus feeling more at ease. “Can you hold these for me?”

Remus watched your face as you wretched your eyes open - another ‘deep breath’ stilted by a sob as you looked to him - to see him holding two large spheres of ice that Sirius had for his firewhiskey. 

Sirius kept his hands gently stationed on your arms as you removed them from his chest and accepted the ice from James, still never letting go even as the ice began to melt and drip freezing water down your wrists. 

When your sobs became the occasional hiccups and Remus felt you deflate further into his embrace, he braved a gentle caress of your upper arms in warning of his presence.

“Better?” He murmured lowly into your shoulder, earning him a deep sigh that came out only slightly shaky. 

“I…think so. I’m s-”

“No, no, dove.” He admonished quickly, peppering slow kisses along your shoulder and the column of your neck. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene.” You murmured quietly, and Remus watched as Sirius’ face crumpled.

“You didn’t cause a scene, baby.” He argued quickly. “You were scared; I-”

James made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat as he wrapped an arm around Sirius and pressed his lips to his long-haired boyfriend’s head.

“Should we not touch you like that, dove? Here?” Remus asked carefully then; dragging a barely-there finger across the nape of your neck and watching goosebumps appear.

“No, that’s fine, I- it wasn’t that I…it was just both and I…I didn’t sleep very well and it was just…”

“Too much?” Sirius offered as James relinquished you of what was left of your ice that had you and Remus damp, drawing circles into your wrists that he still had secured in his grasp.

“Just at once, I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James chided.

“I am sorry.” You insisted as you looked at James imploringly. “I’ve not been doing a very good job handling my shit lately and now I’ve ruined the morning for everyone.”

“It’s not your shit, baby, and it’s not only yours to handle; we’re supposed to be helping you too, yeah?” Sirius pressed as he craned his neck to meet your eye that you were trying to avoid. 

“And you didn’t ruin anything; you could never ruin anything.” James added. 

You sniffled at that and took another deep breath that hardly shook at all as you leaned further into Remus. “Is your hand okay, Jamie?”

James smiled softly at you before bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be good as new, but I owe Moons some healing balm since I used a whole jar from his stash.”

“I’ll buy it!” Sirius announced quickly, surprising a small laugh from you.

“I’d think not, Pads; I’m the one who used it up!”

“Yes but you’re the one who was hurt, I’m the one who upset our girl.”

“I upset her too.” James countered as they began arguing who had played a bigger hand in this morning’s commotion. 

You and Remus shared a fond yet exasperated look before the two of you stood - on shaky legs after being folded up for so long - and opted to take a warm shower and change into dry clothes.

It may not have been the start to the day any of you would have liked, but you all made it out okay, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you. 

And for now, that was more than enough.

[quotergirl19]

A little commentary on fighting with friends in Bridgerton.

Season 2:

Eloise finds out that her friend Penelope is Whistledown; she’s heartbroken and furious and confronts her. Penelope tearfully admits the truth and her reasoning, confessing to Eloise that she has been hiding this secret but she was also sincerely trying to protect her. Eloise is not ready to forgive her, it’s too big a revelation; she’s disgusted, angry and unforgiving. Penelope reacts badly to Eloise’s cruelty by accusing her of being jealous of her accomplishment because Lady Whistledown is an undeniable success and Penelope has actually done something remarkable while Eloise is all talk. In response, Eloise ends their friendship. Months pass and it still pains them both visibly. They both clearly feel the loss and struggle with it.

Season 3:

Cressida publicly declares herself to be Whistledown. Eloise reminds her that Whistledown wrote about her ruinously (even though Eloise secretly knows that Cressida is only impersonating Whistledown and trying to claim what is actually Penelope’s life’s work as the anonymous columnist). Cressida has no excuse or rationale, she instead tries to dismiss what happened to Eloise and entice her to write the column with her. Eloise has no interest in associating with someone so dishonest and cruel, who would claim someone else’s hard work and accomplishments. She is disgusted, angry and unforgiving. Cressida nastily responds almost exactly the way Penelope did, accusing Eloise of being jealous of the success of Whistledown because all Eloise does is talk. This time Eloise confesses that she is jealous of Whistledown because she is an undeniable success. The difference here is that Cressida hasn’t actually accomplished anything so Eloise pretends to congratulate her on her hard earned success and ends their soured and short lived friendship. Cressida regrets turning on Eloise. Eloise recognizes that Cressida has some redeeming qualities but has no interest in rekindling that fickle friendship.

I genuinely appreciate these extremely similar situations and conversations and the way they highlight the differences between these two friendships. One is long standing and developed over time. The hurt over losing a close relationship is felt deeply by both Eloise and Penelope but because there’s so many years of love and trust between them, that this one big secret is enough to leave a scar but ultimately not enough to erase the bond between them. That is what makes forgiveness possible.

But the friendship between Eloise and Cressida is new. It lacks the sort of trust needed to withstand distrust and dishonesty. So when Cressida claims responsibility for Whistledown’s slander, and Eloise knows Cressida is lying to her, we as viewers know there’s little to no chance for reconciliation between them. The sad part is that Cressida is genuinely in need of a true and loyal friend but her home life and experiences have taught her that she needs to look out for herself. Cressida’s lack of honesty and openness hinders any potential growth and trust between her and Eloise so her deceitful actions and hurtful words end up being the final nail in the coffin of what had potential to be a very important relationship for Cressida specifically. Eloise has a supportive family and a genuine friendship with someone who has grown as a person and who wants to do better. Understandably, Eloise has no desire to rekindle that friendship, making their rift more likely to never mend.

It’s good storytelling and well executed example of true friendship versus fair weather friendships or friendships of convenience. All together I really appreciated Cressida’s character development this season and hope she does end up with her own HEA, even if we never see it.

[foolish-spectre]

Our Scars

Pairing: T4T Bruce Wayne/Batman (transmasc, he/him) x Reader (transmasc, they/them) 

Content Warnings: Implied familial abuse, homophobia, transphobia, death (mentioned), comphet, misgendering by a family member, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1591

Characters: Bruce Wayne (Battinson!ver) 

A/N: I wanted to post this before the day ended for me since it’s Trans Visibility Day and especially due to all the shit that’s happening in my personal life and how much transphobia has taken over my government’s legislation... I needed to read this fic again. I wrote this when I needed someone who understood me and my struggles and I think it’s one of my best fics I’ve written. So it’s pretty personal to me, especially since I’ve been a big Batman fan ever since I was small. But The Batman made me fall in love with the caped crusader all over again and helped me feel confident in my transness. It’s no surprise that I headcanon him as a transman and I’ve watched the movie over and over so many times, it’s my favorite. He reminded me that there is hope and that I can find love and happiness as a trans person. I love Bruce a lot. There is hope in this bleak, dark world. I didn’t post this when I first finished writing it due to the fact that this takes place after a Battinson x Reader series that I’ve been drafting but due to irl stuff taking up a bunch of my time, I am very sorry to the requests in my inbox and the readers who are waiting for the Sandman series to continue, I couldn’t continue it at that moment. This version of Bruce felt so distinctly trans to me in a way that I can’t convey in words, he’s... like me in a sense. I do want to write something that’s purely about my feelings regarding my transness and being non-binary. If you read all of this author’s note, thanks, if you didn’t that’s ok, but I hope you enjoy this fic and if you’re a trans/non-binary person like me I hope this will bring you at least some comfort in these trying times. 

Your knuckles were about to burst from how hard you were clenching the white bed sheets, your lips didn’t fare much better, barely hiding the trembles. The voice that you forced out was one that Bruce didn’t recognize, it didn’t hold the same light and enthusiasm he had come to love, though he would never admit it to your face. It was strong enough so he could understand what you were saying but meek enough to be overtaken. Even then, most of your responses to the other side of your phone were either “yes”, “i’m sorry”, and “I’ll work on it.” If you didn’t tell him that you were going to get a call from your mom tonight, he would’ve thought it was from your boss. 

The muscles on your face tried their best to keep their composure, not letting a crinkle get the best of you. Knowing that if you let a single crack form in your facade, it would cause a cascade of emotions that would lead to you crying on the phone. Your eyes pointed to the floor but didn’t focus, it just shot blanks as if you were shooting blindly in the dark. After a few cold moments that felt like centuries, your mother deemed your responses satisfactory enough to her ears and you released one of your hands from the bed. A breath that you were holding like a mother clutching her baby out of fear gently released from its shackles. 

The last thing you said to her was something you had rehearsed a million times: “I love you”. No warmth or sincerity was felt by him when you said that phrase, it reminded him more of a confession a cop would wring out of a suspect. After you said your goodbyes, you collapsed and cradled your head in the palms of your hands. Just as Bruce was about to contemplate on what to do next, your voice echoed throughout the bedroom, “Bruce, just come in.” 

His head was tilted downwards so that his bangs covered his face full of embarrassment, but you didn’t mind that he listened in. You were just glad that you weren’t alone, his feet drifted over to the bed the two of you shared. Bruce’s towering figure awkwardly loomed over you, your hand reached out to his, pulling him to sit down beside you. You could finally see his remorseful eyes underneath the dark locks of hair, as well as a creased frown that twitched a little. Despite his flustered state, his determined eyes never left you. What you didn’t expect was his calloused hand to reach out and cup the side of your face. A hand that was routinely punching and rescuing others, gently caressing your face and his thumb rhythmically stroking the skin that bridged your ear and your face. How could you not melt at that.

Your eyes gave into the temptation, tears streamed down at your face and your other hand held Bruce’s unoccupied one. There was always some hesitation from you whenever you wanted to initiate even a single touch on Bruce, out of fear of scaring him off. Yet, it dissolved when he bridged the gap between the two of you. A kinship between the two of you was established very early on, when the two of you communicated about how weary you both were about physical contact. But another fact rang true, a craving for affection was shared as well. You couldn’t help but smile at how sweet the dark knight was being and his eyes softened at the sight. Yet when you looked at him, there was still a form of guilt, so you drew closer to your beloved. A stronger whisper reached him, “It’s ok, I trust you. And you can just ask if I don’t want you in the room, for the future.” 

Bruce’s clenched jaw let go of its original tension, his gaze lowered down to your lap and a more comfortable silence filled the room. His response while softly stroking the hand in your lap was, “Ok.” 

Your gaze fell as well and as the bat’s calming presence filled your body, your forehead found its place with his. His eyelids gently pulled down the curtains on his gaze just so he could focus on your touch, yet he wanted to know, “... What can I do?” 

Your heart melted, you could’ve requested so many things but the word that came out was, “Stay.” 

His mouth opened like a small flower beckoning the arrival of spring, his gaze returned to you, “I’m here.” 

You’ve never seen someone carry eyes full of so much warmth before, hell you thought it was an illusion. But Bruce’s enveloping embrace anchored you, you knew that this was real. He would never leave unless you asked him to. The man wanted to ask you so many questions but faltered when he saw your relaxed face against his bare chest. The questions could wait, he remained in place. The arm that wasn’t supporting your head traveled to your waist, his large hand guiding your hips closer to his body. While your hand wandered the expanse of his chest that was littered with scars, the scars that you landed on were the only scars he wanted, his top surgery scars. 

You looked to him as your fingers ghosted over the scar, Bruce took a moment so you retreated. As your hand pulled back, he grasped it and guided it back to its rightful place. Your head tilted back into his chest and your fingers ever so softly traced the scar that was one of Bruce’s steps to feeling like himself. After another breath exhaled, you spoke, “My mom wanted me to go back to Metropolis.” 

Bruce’s embrace grew firmer, you continued, “She’s worried that I’m going to wind up dead in an alleyway.” 

The furrow in his brows returned, he knew she was partially right. But you didn’t let him dwell on it, “But her main argument is that I won’t be able to advance my career here in Gotham, let alone find a good, stable husband.” 

You could see Bruce’s eye twitch, your hand drew circles onto his scars, “She’s worried but… mostly disappointed that I’m not ‘dating’ anyone. That I won’t find happiness, that I’ll die a, in her own words, ‘lonely old woman’ or worse, a ‘lesbian’. All that just because I’m presenting more masculine now, I mean she’s not completely wrong. I am attracted to women but for her to suggest that I would never be happy if I liked girls…” 

Bruce returned your reassurance with his eyes looking at you, “I.. can’t even tell her that I’m not her daughter. That I never was, that girl never existed. She was just a role that she gave and enforced onto me. I can’t tell her who I really am. Because I know she’ll force me to be that ‘perfect daughter’ regardless.” 

Your dark knight’s voice softly reminded you, “You’re not her.” 

He could feel your smile against his skin, “Yeah, I’m not. I’m something better. I think I’m just scared of being forced into that, despite knowing who I am. Being forced into a career that will suck everything out of me just to win my parents’ approval, being made to marry a man that my family deems suitable, and being shoved into a skin that makes me want to rip myself inside out.” 

Bruce’s black hair fell closer to your face as he held you, you chuckled on what your mom told you, “My mom… fuck, how do I even say this? She told me that she would get a matchmaker for me if I didn’t bring home a good boyfriend. A boyfriend that turns into a fiance that would turn into a husband so she can have grandchildren. I can’t even tell her that I don’t even want kids either! I just don’t know what to do. Bruce, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave Gotham and… I don’t want to leave you.” 

His lips trembled a bit before he lifted up your hand to his face, “You don’t have to go. Stay.” 

He really didn’t want to lose you, especially to a force he couldn’t control. You were one of the few people he opened his heart to and stayed, to see you be taken away by someone who hurt you, both chilled and boiled his blood. Bruce didn’t know what to say or what to do to make all of this better, he wanted to do so much but it wasn’t his fight. He had to listen and right now that was enough. 

Your beloved’s arms adjusted you both so you could lay on the bed, your head tucked in between the crook of his neck. His chin touching your head as your breathing calmed. Your arms circled around Bruce’s waist while his hands wrapped around your head. A soft voice reached your ears, “I’ll help you, no matter where you go. Just promise that… it’s what you want.” 

Your eyes crinkled in joy when he emphasized ‘you’, before you buried yourself into his chest, you replied, “I will, I love you Bruce.” 

Bruce surprisingly didn’t stiffen but instead, he stewed in it. After a few moments, he conveyed all of his thoughts, “I love you too.” 

The blaring of cars could be heard from a distance and the stars in the sky were covered by fog, yet none of that mattered when he was right here.

[freetobeafcknriot]

okay, is superwho cringe in the year of our lord 2022? maybe. do i care? not in the slightest because i am, once again, marveling at the potential of adam and clara being bbfs meeting and kind of befriending one another. because i love both characters and i like crossovers, yes, but! they also have so much potential.

like, imagine adam post-finale stumbling into this diner where the waitress ends up chatting with him, and it’s just weird because the thing about them is, they are both human but they are also fucking old. they have a ridiculous amount of things in common and this is up to debate but in my mind there’s a little of leftover grace clinging to adam’s core and in addition to that he is so very not human by this point that he can sense something is off about this place and this person. but not in a dangerous way like it would be any monster or demon, it’s more of a feeling of, well, kinship, in a way.

the waitress, clara, doesn’t even ask him for money. which is good because he doesn’t have many on him. she’s like, “an omelette with dessert in exchange for a nice talk. i’d say it’s a good deal, isn’t it?” so adam agrees, and is very tentative, wry, visibly tired and drained and hurting because he has been left alone and is looking for the impossible. meanwhile clara, on the other side of the counter, knows that look. she knows those eyes, she has been living without a pulse for quite a long time and she can see it. so she is kind and a little cheeky and witty and clever, but also so, so understanding.

in the end i would like to think they’d get to know one another after meeting in odd circumstances while adam is gathering knowledge about witchcraft and clara is running and going anywhere and anywhen, maybe they eventually open up enough to understand why is it that a diner appears just like that and all, but at first glance? maybe they talk, but neither of them is sharing the truth.

it doesn't really matter though, because when you look at someone that reminds you of yourself or of the person you left behind (in clara's case), you kind of know there's more to it, but you're wise and old enough not to pry. and they are!

they both walk the line between being a human and not really being it anymore. they both grew to be more as they grew close to that person — archangel or time lord — no matter how young looking, they are both scarred and wandering, so much older than they seem because of inhuman circumstances and a huge sacrifice they made out of love. they both were ordinary until their lives changed completely and they both fell in love with an eldritch inhuman being who loved them just as fiercely. not to mention they take shit from no-fucking-one and are just amazingly resilient.

the difference is that for clara, that love is a nostalgic memory — it’s long gone, and she is dealing with it. to adam? it isn’t. because he has a shot, because of course they don’t have identical experiences despite everything, and because what he carries within himself is still fresh and bleeding and raging. in a way that clara didn’t come to feel, maybe, but that she can relate to and is familiar with anyway. 

what i’m basically saying is that they would make a very cool duo and are more alike than they’d think and i would read or write tf out of a fanfic based on this concept. it all ends with a couple of trips in the tardis and the mirroring of their first conversation being like, “are you looking for him? this person—he sounds like someone important to you,” and then later, “you found him, didn’t you?”

[dreadlord-mr-son]

re: Still unnamed Colony AU

Decided to throw everyone into a Minecraft world just to make it easier to map. This style of world may be heavily-familiar to a couple of the characters, depending on my final picks.

I don’t plan to have it heavily gameified. Things won’t actually be square. Food saturation doesn’t heal you. There’s not an “inventory”. There might be respawning? Haven’t decided yet.

I’ve already picked out a large biomes world and an area in it to drop people.

Now I just have to finalize my character list...

I’ve made two short lists so far. One from my Wynnverse timeslines and one from my older OCs and original projects. There are some canon characters from various media (anime) already in those, as Wolfwood and Roy are both heavily tied into a lot of Wynn’s timelines. But I haven’t yet made the “characters from various media canons and fanfic of those media that I like” yet.

To go briefly over my potential picks from my older OCs and original works...

Forest’s Shadow: A sapient non-human I usually list as a “youkai” when I’m writing character lists. Not because she precisely is one, but because it’s a better term for what she is than others available to me. She’s a horse-sized vaguely canid creature who was going to be one of the main characters in a book I never wrote, where her and a young boy from a Native-American inspired tribe(1) who lost his tribe for plot reasons together gather a following and start a new family that expands into a tribe. Oh gee look there’s those same interests that are leading me to write this very fic right now. (1) This would be set on an alternate earth so no actual real tribes that exist or used to exist on our world would be present. Also it would be set in a time period comparable to thousands of years ago on our world so...

“Roach” (Michael Bradley): Well-off pothead with the coloring of a super-saiyan. His plotline was about him no longer being able to afford his house payments on his own so he gets a roommate who ended up being my self-insert. Basically a dumb self-insert sitcom character. One of my very rare straight male characters. Kind of bland to describe? But I’m fond of him. Nicknamed Roach because of the “pothead” thing. I always think of him as Roach and have to remind myself that his actual name is Michael. His story actually has a title: “Fish and Houseguests”. After the saying “Fish and Houseguests stink after 3 days”, referring to people overstaying their welcome. Thus indicating my long pattern of many of my own characters being supremely unimpressed with me.

Three characters from the same story now: Nathanial Sebastian Creighton (prefers Sebastian, thanks). Keneth Weaver Darlene Gothe A trio of college students from a comic I never drew a ton of titled “Something About Slugs” (an intentional non-sequitur). Sebastian is a rich gay guy whose homophobic parents sent him to college in another country so he could go and be weird and gay and artsy over there where he won’t be publicly visible and embarrass the family. Basically, he gets an allowance to keep his head down and pretend he’s not related to them. Very angtsy. Tall and thin and has super strength. Is a pacifist precisely because of the super strength -- he’s terrified he’ll seriously hurt someone by mistake. Suuuuper pretentious artist. Avoids speaking with contractions and gets poetic when drunk. Favorite forms of art are theatre and painting. He likes to dress in a black trenchcoat with a black sweater under it, even when it’s hot. Always wears long sleeves to hide his self-harm scars from when he was younger. I don’t have enough words for how much I enjoy tormenting this boy and making him chew on his own complicated emotions. :p I have a whole comic where I just drew him talking to a crucified Jesus statue about how he felt about the concept of God and his opinion on “love the sin, hate the sinner”. He is. So fun for me. Keneth Weaver is one of the middle children of a large family with many siblings. Very good at deescalating between his two best friends who... do not get along with each other. :p Always dresses in a puffy winter jacket with a warm knit hat (which he tucks his long blond hair up into) because he frequently gets cold chills. Is an absolute sweetheart and is the one of the trio most likely to go feral and punch a mofo for messing with his friends. Has not yet realized that he’s bi and falling for his best friend Sebastian. Everyone thinks he’s going to get into some nurturing care field of study but ends up getting into law from an idealistic desire to defend the disenfranchised. Darlene Gothe is... aptly named. She’s got a “slutty witch” aesthetic, liking to wear black dresses with ratty bottom hems and her cleavage out and swirly black eye makeup. Self-describes as “playfully bitchy”. Sebastian thinks she hates him because she’s constantly insulting and teasing him because she thinks it’s fun to play with him because of his dry sarcastic whit. So she’s just having fun and he thinks she’s being intentionally mean. Keneth sometimes gets so exhausted dealing with these two, but he does love them both. While Sebastian struggles with his complicated feelings for his disapproving parents, her parents are very supportive of her, but she just doesn’t emotionally connect with them and struggles to understand why family is so important to Sebastian and Keneth. Part of her trouble with sincere emotional connection is from school trauma. She was bullied through grade and highschool and coped with it by becoming sarcastically disconnected and prickly (hence “playfully bitchy”). I’m never going to end up writing the comic for these three but I love them so much.

Um. I’mma cut this off here and reblog my own post with the next batch of characters because I’m not even halfway through.

[ihopesocomic]

(PT 1) HEY! I love your comic. You guys are doing an amazing job but seeing that new trailer, I had a thought. It almost made me have a moment of "Oh right, /that/ show.." seeing Hope's scar so similar to Nothing's. Of course it's probably very intentional, but I think the entire story can stand on its own without having such an obvious "LOOK IT'S LIKE NOTHING BUT IT'S BETTER" motif? I don't know if it goes for anyone else, but I feel happier the less I think of My Pride when I read IHS :(

This is going to be quite long because you’ve brought up an issue that’s been bugging me for a while, which is the accusation that we’ve been touting IHS across the internet as a “better My Pride” and rubbing it in people’s faces when we’ve done no such thing. This isn’t just directed at you, anon, but anybody else who feels the same way.

First of all, it’s been established for quite some time that Hope was going to have a scar (since September of last year, before we started uploading), so I don’t know why you’ve only just picked it up from the trailer: 

https://toyhou.se/8161178.hopeful#26353886 https://toyhou.se/8161178.hopeful#26354089 Secondly, I wouldn’t say the scar looks similar to Nothing’s? Hope’s scar is visible claw marks (similar to Scar and Kovu from the TLK franchise). Nothing’s scar is... Well, I don’t even know what it’s supposed to be. Scar tissue? Anybody else’s guess is a good one. lol Either way, we’re dealing with a character who gets abused by her family, she’s gonna end up with scars sooner or later. Doesn’t mean we’re trying to do “Nothing but better”. We’re trying to depict the effects of mental and physical abuse on a disabled individual, and there’s going to be some physical signs of it. Hope being clawed is also a prominent, dramatic moment because Hope loses vision in her eye from the injury. It serves a purpose. Whereas Nothing’s scar is just... there. 

As for our intentions behind making this comic: it started because we were privately exchanging ideas and revamps on how we personally wished MP had turned out (which is not the same as “how it could’ve been better”) but we felt using our own characters and lore would be easier and better to work with than somebody else’s entire creation. We’ve never set out to make a “better My Pride”, that has never been our intent. We’ve always described this comic as an “antithesis” to MP. That’s the closest we’ve ever come to comparing the two. The view that our comic is a “better My Pride” has only ever come from people reading it, which we can’t help. We’re not responsible for the words expressed by our fans and - truth be told - we’re not about to go out of our way to try and police them on their words. If they want to believe our comic is a “better version of My Pride”, then they can. 

It would be a very amateur and pretentious mistake on our part if we claimed this comic to be a “better” version of an existing product. Because that’s all up for personal opinion. Some people will think My Pride has better writing than I Hope So, and that’s fine. Our writing style isn’t going to vibe with everyone. However, this claim that we have said our thing is “better” is just downright untrue. We never set out to do this to mock what we feel are pitfalls of My Pride, but to work from inspiration. Because, despite our grievances with the show, it DID inspire us at some stage.  Another thing I want to say is that I think there’s been way too much emphasis put on being 100% original and unique over the years. I wouldn’t say that originality is dead but is it a dying form that we need to stop obsessively chasing because a TON of things have been done to death, no matter how “unique” you think they are? Yes. There’s nothing wrong with taking elements from existing media and doing your own take on it, as long as you give credit to the original source and don’t try and deny it when people call you out on it. That’s when something becomes a blatant rip off, when you try and argue it’s 100% original when it’s absolutely not. We’ve done nothing but say up and down that this is inspired by My Pride, so this probably isn’t the comic for you if being reminded of that show is a problem, because we can’t deny the origins of our comic. However, at the same time, I’d like to argue that whatever similarities we share with My Pride, we’re doing our utmost to execute things differently. The foundations of everything will be same (again: no denying that), but we have different things planned once Act 1 concludes. 

This is hardly a new thing either. It’s very, VERY common in media for somebody to take something and try to make an alternate product from it. Particularly when it comes to video games. Some of the best video games of all time have come from those who have taken an existing game and made what one would call “a rip off” out of it. Not everything that resembles something is a “rip off” and it’s not always made with the intention of scoring clout and praise from fans of the original source. That’s what hurts the most about all this: the insinuation that we’re doing this to try and ride on My Pride’s coattails and we’re not? We’re doing this because we enjoy it and we want to maybe give people who want valid LGBT+ and disabled representation the valid representation they deserve.  

We haven’t done IHS out of malice or mockery. We weren’t lying when we said that one of the main strengths of My Pride was its worldbuilding. We were (still are) on board with the idea of lions living in a Watership Down-like society. We felt there were aspects of My Pride that we liked and wanted to work with (i.e. gay lion with a disability, abuse from an unforgiving world) and it is these aspects that you see before you. So, no, nothing is done with the intention to mock. Anything we have issue with in My Pride is just not in the comic nor commented on. We put up a 2+ hour review on that, we don’t need to use our comic to carry on the lecture. 

That’s all I’m saying on this. It’s not up for further discussion. We’re just tired of having this brought up to us because - short of posting the comic script in its entirely - all we can do is say, yes, MP inspired us and the foundations are similar but we’re trying to do things differently and we intend to take things in a new direction once Act 1 wraps up. That’s all we can say for now. Thanks for your time.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

Characters: Ernesto and Héctor, though Imelda, Coco, and Miguel also make brief appearances

Warnings: Uhh... depictions of PTSD/trauma, I guess?

Description: Seizing his moment only took seconds to execute, and left scars that lasted for a lifetime and beyond. 

Beta Readers: @jaywings​ and @pengychan​

Notes: Uhhh... nightmares suck, that’s all I have to say.

---~~~---

The first night, he doesn't dream at all, for his waking state has become dreamlike.

There's an eerie, almost peaceful stillness all around him, the quietness of the city and the hotel and the room. The sole exception is the distant whistle of the train, but he's been hearing it for hours now, though the train has long since moved on.

In fact, reality itself feels like it has moved on, leaving him in an untouched bubble locked in time. He sits on his bed, holding the book in his hands, but it doesn't feel real--if he were to open it again, he feels like it would just contain the useless garble of dream writing, so he does not. Though its color reminds him of something that he will not let himself remember. He sets it aside.

He feels he should sleep, not because he is tired, but because it is what he would normally be doing at this time, and he's starting to feel a faint desperation on the edges of his consciousness--a desperation to come back, to wake up. Quickly he washes it down with a gulp of tequila, and lays down.

Yet he cannot sleep. How can one sleep on a bed that is not real, in a room that is not real, in a reality that does not exist?

But he must. He must sleep, for they have a tour to continue in the morning.

So he closes his eyes, slowly letting the numbness of sleep take him... until he is brutally pulled from it, his heart thudding against his ribs, his eyes staring wide and blank at the ceiling above him.

No.

He has a tour to continue.

Just him.

Just him.

Sleep fails to reach him that night.

---~~~---

The first time he does sleep after it happens, it is after a day of pacing, of gnawing on his knuckles, of biting back screams, of copious drinking.

Initially his sleep is empty and dreamless, and he welcomes it openly.

But as the night creeps over the city, he awakens to moonlight blanketing his bed. At first he is annoyed, and merely rolls over with a grunt.

"I'm not doing this anymore!"

Immediately he sits bolt upright, looking for the source of the voice, but there is nothing, and he remembers why there is nothing. He scrambles for a bottle, but a memory flashes through his mind of a dash of something being put into a glass, and for a terrified moment he wonders if some of it could have splashed into the bottle. It makes no sense as to how that could have happened--he was careful as could be--and yet the thought won't leave his mind. He tosses the bottle on the ground, where it hits with a dull clunk, some of its contents spilling on the floor.

Still he remains awake, curled upon a bed that may as well be soft as stone, for how little it comforts him. He must sleep though--he is exhausted, he did not sleep last night, he must sleep, he must move on, he's already seized his moment, he cannot waste it...

The darkness shifts erratically between shadows and the void of unconsciousness, and between those moments there are voices, scents, feelings.

"Ugh, what town is this again...?"

It's heavier than he had thought, and numbly he realizes the meaning of the term 'dead weight.'

"Ah, don't act so jealous. That'll be us one day, right?"

There's something sticky and acrid coating his shoulder, and he tries his best to ignore it.

"I wish I didn't have to miss her birthday..."

Don't be seen, don't be seen, don't be seen.

"Oh, the crowd really loved you tonight, hermano!"

Unfamiliar buildings rise around him, and every turn feels like it will make his heart either stop or explode.

"You said this was the last one!"

It'll be over soon. It has to be.

"A toast! To another step on our journey!"

Nothing feels real other than the ground beneath his feet, and even that feels like it could suddenly cave in beneath him.

"I'm sorry... It was the little girl there--she reminded me of..."

The night is a hell of endless streets and what feels like an increasingly heavy weight in his arms and heart.

"I can't wait to see them again!"

He awakens to finding his pillow damp, and spends the morning screaming into it.

---~~~---

"Where to today, then?"

The suitcase is snapped shut, and he's staring down at him expectantly.

Something about this unnerves him, though he's not sure why, and merely shrugs, throwing a few more things into his own suitcase. "Oh, the next train stop should do. I've heard it's a nice city."

"They all seem the same to me," he replies, rolling his shoulders. "Oh, do you think we'll see a pretty dress there? I wanted to send something back home since I won't be there for..."

"Bah, better save your money. You send them enough as it is, hermano. You need to think about your future!" He snaps his own suitcase shut, and hoists it off the bed, his guitar case on his back. Together they step out of the room, having their breakfast at a nearby fonda before heading to the train station.

The whistle sounds overly-loud for reasons he can't place, and he can't recall handing anyone a ticket, but they board the train regardless. Together they sit, talking fondly of the successful shows they've had, of the sights they've seen, of what they'll do when they finally reach stardom.

He's looking out the window when he hears the voice, hesitant and sorrowful:

"By the way... I'm sorry, amigo, for that fight last night. I should have listened to you."

"Oh, it's all..."

He pauses, his blood going cold.

And at once he blinks awake, finding his head resting against the train window. Quickly he turns to the side to find a stranger in the seat beside him, looking at him in concern.

"Are you all right, señor? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

---~~~---

One day he finds himself back home, at their front door. He hardly remembers the trip itself, but then, everything's been a blur. What he does remember, however, is why he's there.

His heart is fluttering in panic--singing in front of dozens never frightened him, yet the idea of speaking before one person makes his stomach wrench. Before he can even compose himself, the door is open, and the woman is standing before him.

"Where is he?"

"I... he..."

His tongue is lame in his mouth, and he fumbles with his words. Coming up with a quick lie was never difficult before, and yet now it seems impossible. Suddenly he is overcome with the terror that if he should speak, he would tell the truth, and his risk, his cost, his moment would all at once be for nothing.

"¡Tío! Where is Papá?"

The little girl tugs at his pant leg, and he has no answer.

Without a word he turns to leave, hurrying away from the house, but she is immediately following.

"Where is he? Why isn't he with you?!"

Panic overcomes him, and he tries to run.

"¡Tío! Come back!"

His legs grow heavier and heavier, as though he is treading through mud, and the two of them are right behind him, the woman's voice growing louder and more enraged all the while, and the girl's degenerating into hysterical sobs:

"Where is he?! Where is my husband?"

"Where's papá?! I want him back!"

He has to get away, but he can't run fast enough, and their voices are so loud, they seem to come from everywhere at once.

"WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?!"

"¡¿POR QUÉ, TÍO?!"

Why did he even do this in the first place? He never should have done this, for they will surely find out--

"WHY DID YOU KILL MY HUSBAND?!"

She grabs his shoulder, her nails piercing into him.

He awakens in bed, drenched in sweat, his face once again damp with tears.

And he vows to never tell them, never confront them, to pretend he never knew them. Never will he even return to Santa Cecilia--he will avoid it for the rest of his life.

He doesn't need that family anymore, anyway, he tells himself. He has a better one, after all.

---~~~---

The winter chill has gone, the weather is perfect, and he's playing to a cheering audience in an unfamiliar plaza.

"¡Otra! ¡Otra! ¡Otra!" they call, and he obliges them, singing them his new song.

And then he sees it.

There's a man in the crowd. It's one he's never seen before, and one that would not typically stand out to him... except for the fact that he's not cheering. He's staring straight at him, the whites of his eyes visible even in the distance.

Eventually he realizes he is no longer singing, his hands hanging limp at his sides. The crowd has gone silent, only watching, while the strange man amongst them reaches out, pointing an accusing finger.

"That is not your song."

His heart jumps into his throat, and his legs threaten to buckle.

"I saw what you did."

He takes a step back, and the man steps forward.

"You killed him!"

He takes another step back, and he falls, and the man is suddenly standing over him, along with a dozen other sets of eyes.

"You poisoned him for his songs! You did it! I know you did it! It was you!"

"No, no," he stammers, but the man's voice booms over his:

"I know you did it! I know you did it! I KNOW!"

The second he awakens, he scrambles out of bed, dresses himself, and leaves immediately. A few items are left behind in his haste, but not the book (not the book), and he boards the first train he can find, immediately heading for his next destination. As he rides, he tucks the book into his coat pocket, and checks it several times during the journey.

They will not find it. They will not find it.

They will never know.

---~~~---

He's talking with the agent, who is once again going on about movies and films.

"...and they will love it! I'm sure we can work in some of your own songs too, of course..."

He's only been half-listening, almost dazed with the idea that he will be in moving pictures. This is far beyond anything he's ever dreamed of, and he almost feels weightless.

"And that song! Oh, we must include that one."

Nodding, he smiles at the man, only to pause. Someone else is in the room, which is very strange. He hadn't heard anyone else come in...

"No," he breathes upon seeing the hollow face staring down at him. "Are you really...?!"

The man nods.

Frantically he turns back to his agent and gestures behind him. "Señor, I-I think someone has..."

They both turn, but to his shock, nothing is there.

And everything moves on, shifting between one scene and another, one person and another, but the unnerved feeling remains even when he awakens.

---~~~---

A year or so later he's sitting at the table, the director and his co-stars laughing and drinking, celebrating the release of their film. He can't fully understand what they're all saying, but he doesn't care, basking in the euphoric joy of success, gazing around the room at all of the others who are experiencing a similar joy.

Until his eyes fall upon someone who was not invited to the party.

Someone who was not invited, for he should not exist.

"You," he says, rising from his seat and keeping his eyes on him. "What are you doing here?"

"Who are you talking to?"

He turns back to his table, to find it inhabited by different people. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds the apparition gone. None of this is right, but it doesn't feel entirely wrong either, so he moves on... until he finds himself awakening next to one of his co-stars.

If that's how it would be, then so be it. He would remember next time.

---~~~---

It is during a performance that he sees him again, standing just to the side of the curtain, and this time he knows. The stage, the dancers, the audience--none of it is real. He sets aside his guitar and marches offstage, keeping his eyes locked upon him.

This is a dream, he knows. Yet another nightmare. Though he is standing before him, he knows that he is not alive, but instead a corpse left in a ditch somewhere on the outskirts of Mexico City.

The face before him is not that of a beloved friend, of a brother, but of a specter that is insistent on haunting his dreams. And while it is here, he may as well speak his mind.

"This is your doing," he states, jabbing a finger into the ghost's chest. "You haunt me for something that you brought upon yourself."

The ghost only stares at him. Though it appears alive, its hair is the same color, not with the streaks of silver that his own has attained.

He gestures back at the now-empty stage and the darkened theater. "This--all of this--could have been yours, if you'd only listened. We could have shared this together."

Though the specter is still silent, its expression has changed, its eyes glaring, its lips pulled back with the rage of a wild animal.

Yet he finds himself grinning victoriously. "Be as angry as you want, old friend. The most you can do is taunt me. You can never hurt me, or abandon me, or hold me back. Never again."

As though to challenge him, the ghost suddenly lunges forward with a snarl, knocking him to the floor.

He awakens tangled in his own bed sheets, struggling with them on the floor. A woman scrambles to the edge of the bed, looking down at him in alarm... but for once, he has not woken in fear, or anger, or anguish.

Instead, he has woken in laughter.

There will be no more nightmares haunting him, no more ghosts lurking at the edge of his dreams, awake or asleep.

---~~~---

Or so he thinks.

It is a few years later that he is suddenly and violently freed from the mortal coil. At first he fears he has been plunged into another nightmare, but... no. This is no nightmare--not even a "living" one. In fact, in the afterlife he is living his dreams, holding concerts, starring in films, holding parties in a mansion larger than the one he'd had in life.

Of course there is one slight problem, he discovers shortly after death, but it is easily taken care of with a few words and a few payments. After that, he never has to think about it again.

Never again, until one night, many many years later, when a very strange thing happens.

A boy, a living one, appears in the afterlife, looking for him.

“I’m Miguel, your g-great great grandson.”

Not something he'd considered, but a likely result of some of his... actions in the living world. But even so, could this really be true? How could a living child enter the Land of the dead? Surely this must be another one of his strange dreams… and so he rolls with it, reveling in the joy (and brief elevated stardom) that comes with having a living great-great grandson in the Land of the Dead, enjoying the presence of a descendant with as much talent as he.

Until something changes.

The night is nearing its end when a new figure enters the dream. A figure that stands at the edge of the room, draped in shadows, and yet... familiar. It cannot be, though--he dealt with this years ago.

“We had a deal, chamaco!”

But soon the figure steps forward, revealing itself as a dusty skeleton with a drooping frame and torn clothing and an old, old photo of himself... and that's when he remembers. He knows this man.

Of course. Of course he was not done haunting his nightmares, but he knows how he can deal with this.

Yet… he’s never seen that photo in his dreams.

He snatches it away, looking it over--he remembers this, but why is it showing up in his dreams now? He hadn’t thought of this specter in so long…

As he continues to stare at the photo, he hears the child draw attention to the movies being played, and the ghost watches one in particular.

“...That night, Ernesto…”

And he looks up from the photo, a terrible chill filling him.

As the skeleton recounts the story of what happened so many nights ago, that night that he’d tried everything, everything to bury, to justify, to forget, he realizes...

Yes, the ghost has finished haunting his dreams.

Because he is about to make his afterlife a living nightmare.

[artificiallyimplantedmemories]

[ ooc: FINALLY got around to this, after the foible this morning with it, so this is try number 2 at ep5 liveblog/commentary... under the cut as always ]

this has a speedrun/summary version of impressions the first third of it because I’d already watched all of that before tumblr ate the post so I might miss stuff idk. and then after that it’s my typical sporadic livebloggy madness. this got SUPER long oops

We have a lot of motifs in this episode, including the bloodied shield, the use of the shield as essentially a giant blunt blade rather than a shield, the conflict between different people’s interpretations of what ‘fighting because one has to’ means.

Walker is running from himself at the beginning, but where does one run to when the war is in your head? Particularly poignant for me (because I know that in the comics he joins the army to emulate his deceased brother) is how deeply the loss of a brother-in-arms cuts, but even more so how much the thought that he’s disappointed Lamar hurts. I think that in some ways, Lamar may have been a part of John’s moral compass, and his sustained belief in him has always helped him. It’s a reversed parallel to Steve and Bucky, actually, and I could elaborate on that but it might turn into an essay.

John tries to walk away from the fight at first, partly because he has other priorities, and partly because I think he does genuinely recognize that Bucky and Sam are good people. Of course there’s also the layer that he thinks of them as the original Cap’s sidekicks and therefore as the new Cap shouldn’t fight them, but… anyway the fight sequence is interesting to watch because it does show John as fairly well matched with them despite the fact that MCU Bucky has the serum. Part of this might be their reluctance to kill him while John has given up the façade and is now willing to do that in order to further his own plans as long as he doesn’t get caught. He cannot lose the title he’s given or he’ll be lost, now that he doesn’t have his best friend.

“Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” “I’m not like you.” The difference is that Bucky was brainwashed. Yes, he’s still ruthless even after he’s broken free of it, but he’s taking conscious steps to be better. And thus the determination behind the “Yeah we do.” The shield deserves better than being in John’s care.

I paused to write and stopped on this face I’m laughing

The “why are you making me do this?” is obviously coming from a place of delusion but also speaks to how John’s personal motives are super unclear. Why did he take on the mantle of Captain America when it was established from the very beginning that he wasn’t completely comfortable with it? Was it, as he told Lamar, because he wanted a chance to be good? (In which case, obviously he’s having a breakdown about not achieving that?) Was it for his ego? Because he was commanded to? Having a John muse makes this a very interesting thing to explore.

Seeing Bucky’s arm get electrified and him knocking out because that’s directly tied to his neural implants was not any easier the second time around oof

“This isn’t you, John.” Further proof that Sam Wilson has more heart than legit anyone else, he’s still trying to believe that John is good.

I find it interesting that they have John remove the cowl in order to growl “I am Captain America.” It speaks to a rejection of what the old Cap was (though the cowl is the US Agent / updated Cap one) and his insistence that his version of Captain America is valid. (It’s not.)

Also because my literary obsessed reads way too much into tiny things that the show runners probably didn’t really care about as metaphors, I definitely saw the ripping of Sam’s wing as a reference to the restriction of freedoms by the US government lol just ignore me on that.

Bucky and Sam repeatedly saving each other’s asses is my jam. Also Sam using the power from the wing pack keeps reminding me from my observation back at the beginning that he’d do so well with full out repulsors. Tony totally would have set him up with that if MCU hadn’t killed him alas.

More of me finding parallels where there shouldn’t be any: they broke Walker’s left arm, just like they took away Bucky’s left.

I took a screenshot of this image when I watched it in the previous round, and it’s still going to haunt me. There’s something so tired and haunted and defeated here.

Bucky gives Sam the shield, because there’s nobody who deserves it more. The look on Sam’s face when he takes it and tries to clean the blood off of it (physically and symbolically of course) is heartbreaking. It’s a man who regrets his decision not to take it on originally but also now has to deal with the implications of both taking on that responsibility (in a country that doesn’t treat him fairly) and whether people will approve of anyone carrying the shield after John has fucked it up so badly.

A note that carries over from my first watch: people don’t usually refer to their enemies by first name. It’s done in comic books and movies with some frequency to remind people who is who, and in this case may also be a bit of humanization for Karli, a reminder that she is a sympathetic character despite the vicious way she does things sometimes. I also appreciate them reminding the audience that she’s competent and has a lot of support.

ALSO TORRES MY DARLING I’VE MISSED YOU. I wonder if Sam letting him keep the wings will actually develop into something (a la comics) or if they’re leaving that open ended. Also his smile is literal sunshine I’m not even joking about this, please give me all the Joaquín content thank you. Just look at him!!

I think by this point most viewers are fairly convinced that John Walker is Not A Good Man, but I think that his rant about always having done what he was told and done it well is purposeful and poignant here. His motives have always been to serve, but the matter of who he’s serving (or more importantly what - the military machine, the government that simply gives orders without thinking of the personal ramifications for those who carry them out) is put in contrast to Sam and Bucky, who are also veterans. I can’t help but draw parallels to the Nuremberg trials, people who did heinous things under orders and try to use that as an excuse for their innocence. It’s a reminder that a person doesn’t have to be visibly part of an evil group in order to do evil things. I won’t outline everything here but at least as far as the US Military goes, more info can be found at https://www.thebalancecareers.com/military-orders-3332819 about how and when it is defensible for people in the military to disobey orders.

You can hear John’s voice break during his rant, the conviction that he was doing what he was supposed to. He could have gotten away with more if he hadn’t been such a public figure, but an “other than honorable discharge” lmao what a diplomatic way to tell him how badly he fucked up xD

Also hey it’s Olivia. Most people forgot that John has a wife. (I’m glad she’s telling him to visit Lemar’s parents, they deserve that.) Also is this Valentina or is this a Skrull? Only time will tell.  (She’s probably not a Skrull, FATWS is too short for that, but on the other hand I’m not sure how I feel about the implications otherwise. Is she a SHIELD infiltrator? Is she manipulating him on SHIELD’s behalf? Did they steal the name and get rid of her backstory?)

The resignation on Zemo’s face during his encounter with Bucky (especially with a gun to his face) is unnerving. Zemo calling Bucky “James” made Natasha outright glare though. Her priorities are a little odd. But I’m glad Bucky didn’t kill him, I’m glad he’s not allowing him to be a victim of his conditioning. The Dora Milaje are taking him to the Raft… oh wait there might be Skrulls after all.

“If you ain’t bitter, you’re blind.” I feel that. I feel that hard. But I also understand the misplaced blame, the tendency for people who have been Through It seeing anyone outside their minority as their oppressor.

For someone who has dealt with the immensity of the trauma that Isaiah has, including the experimentation, the social isolation, the experience of being in the jail system for so long, it’s no surprise at all that he would be quick to assign blame. Add to that the risk of being killed for being part of an experiment that you didn’t agree to partake in early on, followed by extensive experimentation after? There are so many factors at play: violation of self, lack of agency, lack of safety… D: and the physical reminders of them are everywhere. look at the scarring D: D: D:

The range of emotion in this is so good, the acting is so good, I’m just overwhelmed with how honest this feels. 

“They erased me. My history. But they’ve been doing that for 500 years.” OOF

The crease in Sam’s brow when he’s told that no self-respecting black man would wanna be Captain America, there’s such righteous indignation there, but he has to temper it in the face of Isaiah’s grief. Over and over he proves himself capable of putting compassion first and foremost.

This sibling dynamic has been really nice to see. There’s tension, there’s individual struggles, there’s support (not always in the ways it needs to be, but they’re trying), but more obviously there’s a depth of love there. Seeing it is so rewarding.

LOOK AT THE WHOLE COMMUNITY SHOWING UP!! Oh man so this gets me, because I grew up in a neighborhood where we supported each other and threw block parties and everyone trooped into our backyard to play on the swingset that had been left behind by the previous owner. It wasn’t family, sure, but we took care of each other. In India, it was even more so, and even now when I go there, I crash at my next door neighbors’ place instead of my family’s house most of the time. I miss having that sense of community, that closeness to people because we all had each other’s backs. Where I live now, I don’t even know most of my neighbors’ names. It sucks.

Ahh, there’s the part that I’ve seen the gifs of, with Bucky showing up at the boat. I like the idea that Bucky has slowly come to think of his metal arm as more of a normal part of him despite the ache and heaviness of it. Of course in MCU, he has the serum so maybe he doesn’t notice as much, but I can’t imagine he wouldn’t experience phantom pain in it until at least he internalized it as his own body part, and even then the shoulder joint would probably ache. Still, perhaps it’s more akin to an old injury than a foreign object now, and therefore Bucky still does what he would do naturally, using his dominant hand instead of the ‘enhanced’ one.

I have Feelings about Bucky saying “I’m Bucky” with a smile okay I HAVE FEELINGS

Bucky must have worked the docks a lot way back in the 40s. His level of competence is one of natural instinct, he’s just used to it. I wonder if he worked extra to help pay for medication for Steve after Sarah passed away… oh, more feels :(

Meanwhile Sam is over here doing his human best and I love that. He calls in the crew to help, relies on people, but it never stops him from being a part of it. He’s not taking a managerial role, he’s another tooth on the gear.

“They don’t care if you wear small tee shirts or have six toes or your mom’s your aunt” lmao my brain went ‘You don’t happen to have six toes on your right foot, do you?’ ‘Do you start all of your conversations this way?’ But also look how happy they look here!!!

“Don’t flirt with my sister. Because if you do I’ll have Carlos cut you up, feed you to the fish.” SAM YOU’RE SO RIDICULOUS. But also the way Bucky goes a little pouty after. <3

Lemar’s family! Okay so Walker is straight up lying to them about who it was that killed him, but given the circumstances, I don’t expect anything different. And perhaps part of that is to assuage the family about the fact that there’s ‘justice’ done, but part of it also has to be a slight ego play, and you can see on his face that when they talk about him resting easier, his jaw sets. He’s going to go after who actually did it, whether he has the jurisdiction to or not. He does seem genuinely regretful and I will reiterate the brother-in-arms bit above. Walker needed Lamar as a support system, a confidante, and a nudge in the right direction.

What is Bucky thinking about when he sees the kids playing with the shield? Is he remembering his own childhood? Is he thinking about a future where the shield will be valued and honored and carried right again? Is he thinking about what it’s like to have a family, and missing his own? I need to know these things -_- -> WAIT I THINK IT GOT ANSWERED DURING THE TRAINING MONTAGE. Oh it’s even more than I thought augh. The closest thing he’s got left to a family is the shield because Steve was as much a part of it as it was a part of Captain America dfsjhdgfsd

Sarah telling the boys off! Good for you, girl. (Also I’m laughing at “she’s a very mean person” and “there’s a prowess that goes into my madness” pfft Sam)

“You gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are.” is SUCH AN IMPORTANT SENTIMENT. And “You want to climb out of the hell you’re in, do the work.” As someone who deals with a lot of mental illness bullshit, this is the TRUEST statement. Yeah, you might need help. It might be therapy, it might be meds, it might be other coping skills and distractions, but if you don’t want to be better and do better for yourself and face the rawest and most uncomfortable parts of your psyche, you don’t improve. You stay complacent, stay stuck in that rut, doing the same things that didn’t work before. I need to say it doubly because you know some people are going to say that Sam’s not giving Bucky the support he needs to climb out. IT’S NOT HIS JOB. He will choose to give support when Bucky asks/needs because he’s a compassionate person, but this speech right here is compassion, it is exactly the tough love he says it is. Bucky needed to be called out on not coping and I’m glad that it happened.

….also now kiss, thank you.

“We’re partners.” “Co-workers.” “But we’re also a couple of guys with a mutual friend.” “Friend’s now gone.” “So we’re a couple guys.” XD -cue vine- two guys chilling on a boat and…- wait that’s not how it goes.

“This is our history. We can’t lose this fight.”

“But what would be the point of all this pain and sacrifice if I wasn’t willing to stand up and keep fighting?”

Training montage! I hope he doesn’t slice his fingers off on that shield yeesh. Also my Clint muse is watching those flips like oooooh the dude’s got moves on the ground too now, oh no.

Okay we get that the Flag Smashers are going for intimidation but the trope of the red lighting makes me laugh every time. Nobody is going to turn out the lights and then turn on a different set of conveniently red lights that probably weren’t normally installed in that building. Even emergency lighting wouldn’t look like that. It’s just funny, I dunno. And of course we get a cliffhanger ending.

Post-credits we get John’s new shield being built, and all I can say is 1) if he’s able to pound that out, clearly his new shield isn’t vibranium, and 2) LEARN HOW TO WELD NEATLY AUGH THAT WAS AWFUL XD

Overall thoughts: Good episode! Not a huge amount of plot furthering, aside from the very last bit, but good insight into characterization and believably building the relationship between Sam and Bucky while also reading into motivations and differing views from people who come from similar circumstances. I’m really enjoying the compare & contrast I’m getting to do between Isaiah and Bucky and Sam, because there are so many overlaps and stark differences between them. The first half also gave us some great headway into understanding John as a person, though it’s possible some of that is me overanalyzing because I have a muse for him.

[duraxxor]

Character Sheet: That Damn Trio

Uh oh, it would seem Duraxxor has gotten himself in a lot of trouble this time around! He’s been split into three pieces of his former self! Oh the humanity! Well there’s only one thing to do. What’s that? Well, we go on a wild adventure to put him back together, of course! That’s why I have decided to create character sheet to explain and every one of the fragments and their traits. So without further interruptions, let’s get down to the material! 

Character No. 1

Name: Daev  ( Pronounced just like Dave ) 

Race: Sin’dorei?

Height: 5′ 8″ ( down from the 6′ 4″ that he once stood at. )

Hair Color: Silver Blonde

Eye Color: None, his eyes are as clear as glass

Age:  “ I was only born not that long ago... I jest though... “ 

Physical Traits: When a person comes in contact with Daev, the first thing they may notice as his youthful appearance. Unlike Duraxxor as a whole, Daev has the physical body of a young adult that has suffered from lack of muscle. Despite this, he seems able to stand straight and maintain himself but is unable to physically apply the strength and running speed he once had. The scar that once dominated his features is now shrunken down and appears to have lining that almost reminds some of a stitching, so to speak. Perhaps even mending? The same can be said about the majority of his black attire that decorates his body other than the sleeve that appears to have torn on the right side. A thin trench coat and a pair of black leather britches that are only matched by a pair of boots below. One can also notice the pair of snake bites piercing on his lower lip that seem to have appeared as he no longer bears even a semblance of the elven fangs gene. 

Personality: Quiet and probably the most balanced of his former self. Daev seems to be given the nickname of being the Heart of the Trio. And with good reason considering he is probably the very being that keeps the other two in existence. He is never to quickly jump to violence and seeks to see how people function and feel. Selfless thought and under normal circumstances, kind to those that share a mutual respect for him and his space. Although he is the most attuned to multiple emotions, he has a hard time properly expressing them and it may even come out in a series of riddles. However, he does seem to have something to say for every type of person. 

Abilities: Lack of physical strength, Daev has to rely on his mind and quick thinking if he hopes to manage avoiding being killed off with the help of his familiars. It isn’t known whether he retains much of his weaponry training, other than having a dagger tucked away under his coat that appears to have a significance, or perhaps even symbolic value. Despite his familiars having their own personalities, he seems able to maintain control of them in certain moments and can even call them or dismiss them at will. Daev’s greatest ability is that he has so much untapped potential that is it unpredicted what he may learn in his stay within the Shadowlands. 

Character No. 2 

Name: Randdu ( Ron-doo ) 

Race: Familiar ( Bat ) 

Height: Unspecified, look to his Abilities for details

Hair Color: White

Eye Color: A mixture of Red and Yellow

Age: “ Look, man, give me a break. I only look old. “ 

Physical Traits: You feel a piercing gaze always watching you when you approach Daev with his avian shadow, Randdu. He takes on the appearance of most bats native to Azeroth aside from some defined features that make him appear more like a Fruit Bat from our world, bearing a canine-like snout beneath the leathery wraps that are his lengthy wings. Jagged claws appear to be on both the back legs and wing joints, giving him almost the look a humanoid if not for the fact he lacks thumbs. He is the definition of wild animal with personality. 

Personality: The reckless familiar that is highly regarded ( and prideful of himself ) as the symbol of Duraxxor. Randdu is also the loudest and most immature of the trio. He would rather pick a fight and see who is the strongest than listen to negotiations. He also possesses quite the appetite match this need for combat. However, this doesn’t mean he isn’t self aware when he is in over his head, being the quickest to also panic when he feels outmatched, that is until something goes right, then he will simply mock his foe. Warning: He may curse a lot. 

Abilities: Despite his reckless personality, Randdu is actually quite the powerhouse. He is physically strong and can easily pick up something that is three times his own size, which is only matched by the fact that he is able to grow and shrink his form based on the energy reserves he has obtained through his vampiric aura. The more he fights and succeeds, the stronger Randdu gets. Claws, teeth, and even a mind piercing screech are at his disposal. However, the magical affinity seems to lie more so in the fact he is able to cast a blaze of shadows about his form, giving him enough speed to perform a Wraith Flight, an ability that projects his vampiric aura outward and making mere contact results in the sapping of one’s raw energies. 

Character No. 3 

Name: Sphula ( Sph-ooluh ) 

Race: Familiar ( Serpent ) 

Height: 15′ 07″ in length 

Hair Color: “ Crimson Scales, you uneducated pig. “ 

Eye Color: Onyx 

Age: “ To old for you to know. “ 

Physical Traits: While Randdu is regarded to be the visible lurker, Sphula sticks to remaining hidden into his time is most appropriate. The lengthy serpent bears a strange familiarity to the Arcane Serpents of Northrend, but with many more rows of teeth and definitive fangs. He also lacks the ethereal skin until certain abilities are applied. Scales, bladed fings, and circular markings that are akin to chains, this crimson familiar seems to be the most colorful of the trio. 

Personality: Calm until provoked, Sphula recognizes his own intellect and will exercise it when it is most necessary. More often than naught, he is seen wrapped around Daev, whispering into his ear while chastising Randdu. For once to gain conference with Sphula would mean that you either have earned his respect or there is something of worth about you or upon you that he would sooner have you align yourself to their cause. Unlike the other trio, Sphula is not above breaking the rules in his favor. For he believes logic is more important in the case of survivability in the cruel world of a snake. There is one he deems the most worthy of his time: The Lady in the Red @sanguinesorceress​ . 

Abilities:  Not as physically strong as Randdu, Sphula is also a constrictor and has no issue wrapping his long tail around his foes or even applying it in a flailing motion to dispatch someone from approaching Daev. And speaking of which, did you know that snakes can actually jump three times their length? Not just this one, but he can also slip his entire length through objects much like a pocket space just to come out in a near forty yard radius. Sphula is also the strongest when it comes to the use of magic and intellect. He is able to conjure geomancy, hemomancy, umbramancy, and in some cases, cryomancy and pyromancy. But what would a snake be without his bite? Twin fangs possess a potent cytotoxin, which is a toxin that induces tissue necrosis. Keep your hands away from this snakes mouth!

OOC Information Station 

Rp Style:  When interacting with this blog or even the in-game character, I cannot always guarantee that you will interact with all three of them, just as I also cannot guarantee that one of the other’s won’t squeeze themselves into the RP. Otherwise, I am generally laid back and always up to most themes, including the dark and twisted. I am an adult writer and in most cases, I am not so easily triggered and easy to speak with. Please, don’t hesitate to ask questions as I may have an actual answer for them. I also would like to remind everyone that I have been roleplaying in World of Warcraft for nearly ten years. All I ever ask is your undying patience and kindness in return. 

Platforms: Tumblr, Discord, and In-game (Planned) 

If you have made it this far, congratulations. Now to get to the nitty, gritty disclaimer warnings and rules.

1. Roleplaying with The Trio means you have agreed to not knowing the original character Duraxxor is the true identity of these characters without the proper knowledge or permission. Should you regard him as Duraxxor, Alphus, Lord Daevara, Myotis, or any other former alias, it will be ignored in-character. Should this become a continuing habit, I will ask you personally to please stop trying to ruin the mystery of the characters. Let’s make this a fun plot for all, old and new. 

2. If you are seeking to fix the problem as quick as possible, then you have come to the wrong player. I am wanting this particular plot device to go longer than a few weeks or even months as the Shadowlands is going to obviously take longer than a single year itself. There’s going to be hurdles to make evolve these characters over time. You are welcome to speak about being a part of the plot where he attempts to fix himself though!

3. When addressing particular character questions, please specify who you are addressing to unless it is all the above or the mun. This makes my life so much easier and more engaging. 

4. Do not god mod my characters as I would not god mod yours. All of them have their own individual strengths and weaknesses and should be considered only through natural interaction. 

5. More importantly, be respectful and patient. This is a brand new concept I am playing with and I really wish to see it through to the very end and want those involved to have fun. 

Thank you all for taking the time to read this and I do hope that everything is clear! I look forward to roleplaying with everyone and enjoying the Shadowlands storyline! Happy Writing everyone! 

And if you have not read Chapter 1 to the Shadowlands storyline, here is a link to the story is here

[smearsyd]

Safe in Your Arms | PCY | Bonus, A/N

Lee Seoyun had scars.

Perhaps she had been saved from physical scars, but they were visible enough to her. Thick reminders stood out in her mind that made words like worthless, not good enough, not grateful enough, unloveable, feel like a second skin. She didn’t think she was capable of healing— her parents had told her that she would always be broken, and weren’t your parents the ones who were supposed to know you the best?

So years ago, when Seoyun tragically spilled her hot chocolate all over the front of poor Park Chanyeol’s winter sweater, she was expecting severe backlash— not a forgiving smile and definitely not a new friend. Muchless, Seoyun never in a million years would have imagined that Park Chanyeol would soon be falling in love with someone like her. To be the person who made her, for the first time, feel safe in his arms.

This is Seoyun healed, despite her scars.

characters:

+ park chanyeol (exo), you as lee seoyun (because names are important)

what to expect:

+ christmas + boyfriend!au + fluff and romance

length:

+ 3 parts, bonus drabbles + 25kish in total

warnings:

+ sensitive topics + mentions of traumatic past + smut on part two

read it here: (updating… stay tuned)

+ part one + part two + part three + bonus + masterlist

author’s note:

+ The bonus drabbles are different than I originally planned, but i hope you like them REGARDLESS!!! 

if you want to be tagged, please reply to this post!

@bbhmystar @itsmesa @yeolliedimple @uwukyungs00​ 

Authors’s Note (Bonus Drabbles Below): 

The idea came to me at the end of what I would unfortunately have to claim as a rather shitty day. It was late, I was tired, I remember that my hands were shaky and I could barely see or breathe. I didn't want anyone to hear me so I got in the shower, something that I've found is just easier. Moments like these can only go three different ways, I've found. The first is that I begin to blame myself, which I know isn't the best thing to do and I would recognize that if I could just think. The second is that I simply, or maybe not simply, stop— stop everything. The more numb, the better. The third thing, or option I suppose, is to stay calm and realize that everything is going to be okay. It always is eventually. Thankfully, I've been resorting to the third option more than the other two. This night was no exception either.

Showers, I think, have a magical power. They make you smell nice, they enable you to sing, and they help you think. Sometimes, though, they make me think too much. And so I found myself thinking, depressing really. I thought about everything I've gone through, everything my friends have gone through, everything my family has gone through, and I asked myself why. Why do we do the things we do even though we know there is really no other purpose than existing? I have never been one to become existential in my way of thinking, but at some point one does wonder if their life will mean anything in the long run.

Of course, I have no answers. I picture that the sky would laugh at us if it could. But while I was thinking, I did have one thought that has been lingering for quite some while. Although, I know deep inside of me that my life, or anyone else's for that fact, doesn't particularly matter, it makes me feel more me while in my skin to think that I could make some kind of difference to another person's life. To think that maybe they didn't have to feel as I did, that they could learn from my mistakes. It's a big assumption, I know. But if there is anything I want to do with my life, it would be to help people, because all in all, everyone needs someone to lean on.

This obviously isn't possible for me— to let everyone lean on my shoulder— but maybe instead I could do something else, something more personal, more solid, and more guiding than what my mere existence could provide. That's where writing enters, very dramatically I would imagine.

Reading to me has proven to become a singular savior, my favorite characters became best friends, their worlds like a secret backyard I could escape to when I felt unwelcome in my own home. I would see through their eyes and live a thousand lives. I felt from them, learned from them, grew from them. If I could somehow become that provider for others than I too could become happy, with myself and my life.

This story is merely a stepping stone, a singular moment explored and told. It doesn't even scratch the surface, but it makes it all worth it if even one of you understood, related, felt, learned from, smiled, laughed, cried. Any of those and it mattered, because the world is a place where all of that is running short.

I hope my readers know that life is more than those bad moments in the shower. That people are worth more than mean comments and hateful words. That times passes and things do get better. Life is what you make it, so make it worth it because there is only one of you and only one life to live.

Love a lot, everything if you can. Take risks, as long as you aren't harming others or yourself. Hug your family and best friends more often. Talk things out when you are angry; don't assume anything. Check on your strong friends. Drink more tea and take more baths. Don't forget that you can say NO. Don't forget that you are worth everything and that you are just as important as everyone else. Most importantly, don't stop struggling to find your happiness. Just like Seoyun says, "she's been climbing for a while, but that in itself is enough for her."

10 Months Later

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Baby.” Came Chanyeol’s concerned, but strong voice from the other side of the wall.

Seoyun was on the verge of ruining her makeup, if she hadn’t already, and her dress was so heavy she wasn’t sure anymore why she chose this one.

“Of co—”

Seoyun cut him off. “—I mean I want this, and I know there is no reason to panic, but I am and I’m so sorry because our wedding is literally in like thirty minutes, but Chan—”

Chanyeol cut her off. “—Take my hand.”

Huh? Came her confused reply. Only moments ago, had Chanyeol’s mom rushed from the bridal room like the world was ending when Seoyun burst into tears over a simple comment the makeup artist had mentioned about men getting cold feet.

His mom had promptly gotten Chanyeol and dragged a pitiful Seoyun from the floor like a suburban type superhero. She had forced him to stay on the other side of the hall before leaving them be, their backs less than a foot apart, yet separated through a thick layer of plaster and wood. Of course, Seoyun could simply step around the opening of the hallway, but then he would see her, and everyone knows that the groom seeing the bride before the wedding is bad luck.

But then a hand appeared from around the edge of the wall, his hand. Seoyun stared at it without moving for reason she wasn’t even sure of, her own shaky hand hesitantly coming out to wrap around his after careful deliberation.

There was silence when they met. And then a light twinkling feeling in the pit of her stomach began to bloom as his thumb rubbed soothing circles on her palm. She rolled her shoulders out and a deep breath was exhaled from her lips. Was that the feeling of relief, she wondered?

“Feel better?”

She almost felt ashamed to say yes, but she knew he understood with or without a wall between them.

“You know I’ve been ready for this since we both said I love you for the first time, because I do love you and I know without a worry of a doubt that you make me happy, and loved, and god Seoyun I thought last night in bed was confirmation enough… I mean I basically came so quic—”

“—Chanyeol!” Seoyun gasped, hitting what little of his arm she could see. “Your mom is just down the hall!”

“I mean I’m sure she knows we have se—”

Seoyun hit him again, but this time, she couldn’t help but let a few giggles slip from her mouth. “Last night was good,” she admitted.

“The best.”

Then they were both laughing, their quiet chuckles not as quiet as they thought they were, cascading down the halls and filling them both up with a giddy kind of love neither of them knew they were capable of. And when they died down, and only smiles remained, his hand was still in hers. Reassuring and so Chanyeol-like that she was beginning to wonder why she worried in the first place.  

“So, you don’t have cold feet and you aren’t going to take one look at me walking up the steps and run?”

“Who even said that?”

Seoyun sighed, not wanting him to make a scene or be upset at a probably innocent make-up artist. “Just answer the question.”

“No baby, no cold feet.”  

“Good,” came a familiar voice from Chanyeol’s side of the wall, “because the groom has to get to his place now.”

The best man, Baekhyun, popped his head around from where Chanyeol’s hand was, his bright smile comforting to Seoyun. “And I assume you have a few things to finish yourself before you officially get married. You look beautiful by the way,” he added around a kind eye smile.

“Hey,” Baekhyun was pulled forcefully from her sight, “if I can’t see her than you definitely can’t.” Chanyeol huffed.

Baekhyun was already egging him on, their hands separating as Chanyeol went to hit him again. “Too bad, so sad.”

Seoyun listened with a smile as the boy’s voices faded from her hearing until all that was left was her and her light heart.

She can do this, she’s sure of it.

2 Years Later

There were many things in life that Seoyun once thought she hated, but perhaps she was beginning to realize that they were merely things of her past that she thought were unhealable. And as she stared at them now, Chanyeol fast asleep on the couch, his mouth gapping open and their beautiful daughter wrapped tightly in his arms, her small fingers still stuck in a lock of his once silver hair turned naturally black, she knew that the things she loved in this world quite outshined the things she had still yet to heal from.

She found herself kneeling to sit beside them, her eyes roaming over her forever family with disbelief. Did she truly find happiness? Her heart knew the answer to that, and a delicate smile took over her face.

It had been two years since they married, seven since they met. It seemed, in a flip of a coin, that nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed. They looked somewhat the same, despite maybe a few shining hairs and a crease here and there, they still smiled the same though, hugged the same, loved the same. The world around them kept spinning, life went on, but she was sure now that they were forever.

It was then that Chanyeol’s eye cracked open to peer over at her. With no words, he simply leaned his head a little closer and pouted his lips out for a kiss. The act was easy, oh so easy, and so routine for her that she had almost forgotten how much she loved his tenderness; how the first thing he wanted when he woke was not to be left alone, not to seek out food or a shower, not even to wake their daughter, Boyoung, instead it was her— as simple and un-simple as that.

Her stomach erupted in a blossom of fluttering wings and a breeze so soft, she found herself guided back to him as if there was nothing more important to life than that. Their lips met, a soft pillowing of sleepy petals and she sighed at the taste of home.

“It’s almost the first, Chan,” she whispered into him. “You fell asleep yet another year.”

“It’s too hard to resist.” He mumbled back, his words like kindle being flamed to life. “Her soft snores always lull me to sleep.”

“And you’re getting old.” Seoyun smirked, which he flatly ignored in favor of his daughter, reaching down to grace her with a light kiss on her small forehead. She loved watching the two of them; Boyoung was just like him, her big eyes and goofy laugh, and you definitely couldn’t refute the mischievousness that oozed from her like a gift from her father.    

“She has your sleeping habits for sure,” he remarked with a fond lift to his lips.

“She is a daddy’s girl.”

Chanyeol’s eyes sparked with that same twinkle of mischief and she knew he was inching to make some kind of crude remark, but before it could grace her ears, distant, but loud throes of rejoicing could be heard from outside.

It was midnight, and fireworks were cascading through the sky like shooting stars. They had made it another year together, and a full one year with their daughter.

Seoyun stood from beside them and padding gently to the window, peering out at the light show with wide eyes. It was snowing ever so slightly and the blue lights still hanging from Christmas made everything look bathed in a pure glow of halo. It was beautiful.

She felt Chanyeol’s form brush up behind her, and a small head fell gently onto her shoulder. Boyoung’s deep chocolate eyes, the same as Chanyeol’s, gazed into hers’ with a sleepy yawn and a huff from being woke up. She blinked slowly before drooping back into a peaceful sleep.

“Happy Birthday baby,” Seoyun whispered, eliciting a half-dreaming smile from her.

“And Happy New Year,” Chanyeol added, coming to wrap his arms around her waist.

The three of them stood as fireworks ushered in another year of love and healing and simply being together. She doesn’t think there was any room to hate within the little, but strong family they created.

There wasn’t anything else she could wish for.

thank you for reading

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[paintedpoems]

Black Water Arc: War of The Water Tyrants.

“Wind’s ontology refuses to take separateness as an inherent feature of the world. […] And this is, in part, wind’s value—it has an existential precondition that appears only in the context of contact. Wind is touching, mutual, moving.”

 — Cymene Howe, Ecologics

 It seems overly contradictory to start a piece about water tyrants with a quote about the wind, doesn’t it? In actuality, readers of the novel would find this comparison immensely appropriate. This is because although black water arc is about the head-to-head battle between Shi Wudu and Hexuan; the center point, the cause and the final effect of this whole arc is Shi Qingxuan. 

 “Existential Precondition” or fate. It is ironic that wind is described as such because that is essentially Shi Qingxuan’s inherent problem and “Refuses to take separateness” was Shi Qingxuan’s ultimate solution. 

Short Summary:

The infant Shi Qingxuan has a curse placed upon them. The curse prophesied a life full of unfathomable hardships for Shi Qingxuan and that is now their fate. Their brother, Shi Wudu, who is extremely protective of his sibling, is bent on saving Shi Qingxuan from this curse. Shi Wudu being naturally gifted eventually ascends as a god, he uses his position in the heavenly realm to then help his younger brother ascend to godhood as well. It is eventually revealed that Shi Wudu secretly changed his sibling’s cursed fate with another person of similar name and better fortune. 

The person in question is Hexuan. Hexuan was fated to live a prosperous life and ascend as a god but instead lives with tragedy latched onto him. He goes through poverty, false accusations, abuse and all of his loved ones die under heartbreaking circumstances. Hexuan eventually dies and returns as a vengeful ghost bent on punishing the one that had wronged him. Hexuan wants justice and since the gods refuse to pass judgement, he decides to come to a verdict on his own. In short, that is what black water arc is about: Judgement. In a grey situation, where exactly do we place the blame?

 On Morality:

Shi wudu verses Hexuan, ‘The war of the water tyrants’ dilemma, is one of the most mind-blowingly well thought out cases of grey morality in literature. It is no secret that the reductiveness of morals into “good” and “evil” categories is one of mxtx's main themes often explored heavily in her previous works. The author rejects the absolute extremes in character viewpoints, both in her protagonists and antagonists and applies the concept in varying thoughts including race and politics. 

The difference in this arc however, is the projection of the audience’s principles into each character. That is, between Hexuan and Shi wudu, she never specifies who the antagonist is. It is left to the readers to explore, reflect and come to an understanding on what exactly it is like to venture into the grey zone. Neither of the two were selfishly driven, none of their initial intentions stemmed from hatred. It was familial love that drove them to hurt one another, familial love that blindsided them. In their quest to protect and to avenge their family, innocent family members lost their lives or were hurt; on both their parts. This is where the definitions of victims and perpetrators get skewed. It is so skewed in fact, that the only valid testimony left is the reader's sentiments for the characters and their own self-principles. 

 From Shi wudu’s “Everything I have today, I fought for myself... I will change fate that I do not possess. My fate is up to me and not the heavens” is the will to fight predestination. Verses, Hexuan’s “What right did he have to suck another’s blood, trample another’s bones to reach the skies, and still maintain a peace of mind. Enjoying all such luxuries without any sense of burden?” the victim of the change in predestination. Two strong, commendable principles, founded by righteousness but blinded by arrogance and hatred. Later, to maintain a peace of mind, Hexuan tramples on Shi Qingxuan and in the process of fighting for oneself, Shi Wudu ultimately changes Shi Qingxuan’s fate for the worse. 

We even witness the Shi Wudu’s blindness take a terrible turn at the very end when he attempts to strangle his own sibling that he fought to protect all this time. His belief that Shi Qingxuan will not be safe without him, his lack of trust in his own brother, is part of his arrogance. 

In return, we see Hexuan’s blind hatred falter for a moment when he keeps giving Shi Qingxuan chances for safety. At the finish line, we see both the water tyrant’s own morals and goals swap. This change in attitude towards Shi Qingxuan’s future is another outstanding ploy by mxtx because expectation of a good outcome is the core of morality. In the end, the readers simply wish for a good ending for Shi Qingxuan and when Shi Wudu decides he is going to die together with his sibling, it confuses the audience. There is a shock factor added, you perceive Shi Wudu as the protector and he pulls the safety rug from under your feet. Instant shock and confusion violating the purity of the absolute good, so the reader’s immediate reaction is to look for safety in the not-absolute evil i.e. Hexuan. However, when Hexuan does not provide that complete comfort at the end, only slightly appeasing everyone, it stings. Reinforcing that cognitive blend of mixed morality into reader’s beliefs, further skewing the curve. 

 It is this kind of writing that creates a split in the fandom, not in a bad way, but more in terms of sparking a conversation about where people’s individual morality lies. Each character has their past, their reasons, their flaws and goodness and it gives the audience something to root for. In addition, the rooting is not a hundred percent good versus bad, because each character’s choices are equally flawed. The fandom selects a side but with one foot still lingering on the other territory. Siding with Hexuan but understanding the reasoning behind Shi Wudu’s actions or siding with Shi Wudu but sympathizing with Hexuan’s pain and loss. The uneven split is how you know the characterization was not mediocre.

In regards to characterizations, Shi wudu and Hexuan are too similar. Their personalities, personas, auras; the proud, stubborn, intelligent water tyrants. We speak of these likenesses because Shi Qingxuan lives through this battle and will never be able to unsee the similarities. Hexuan remains, a walking reminder of Shi Wudu. This feels deliberately done as the final stab to the readers, so that Shi Qingxuan and Hexuan’s relationship remains unmendable. 

 Pure Point of Views, Shi Qingxuan and Xielian: 

Wind is invisible, its apprehension comes from its exposure to objects or in this case other people. Shi Qingxuan is air, pure, lively and touching, forming a comforting contact with everyone they meet. The kind of character that brings about a reader’s protective instinct, in a sense, if anything were to happen to them it will infuriate and break the audience. A classic plot device to draw emotions from the readers. Why must this innocent child suffer for the sins of their brother? But, mxtx urges us to rethink this by wondering the same for Hexuan’s family. They were innocent too, why did they have to die on this path? Why is Shi Qingxuan’s innocence valid and not theirs? The audience feels for Shi Qingxuan because we have become familiarised with them. Shi Qingxuan has now made that connection with the readers, the wind has touched their hearts versus only receiving glimpses of what was Hexuan’s previous family. The effect is lacking that familial impact, that bond. Classic writing schemes, beautiful.

At the end of the clashing of the waves, the person left with the permanent scars was the blameless Shi Qingxuan. Their life was molded and directed into this final point without their control, as if caught in a sea storm. The one that paid for this feud was ultimately Shi Qingxuan, the person neither of the other two wanted to hurt.

 Another classic writing device I want to finally explore and praise is the use of the narrator to throw the audience off the culprit’s scent. The mystery of Black Water Arc was quite simple actually, mxtx layed out all the clues and hints for the audience out in the open. Like Xielian himself states later, the simplest answer was always visible, he was just overthinking things. And if Xielian, the semi-narrator, overthinks then the audience will overthink. Xielian, an intelligent and the fundamentally good person, exudes a trusting aura. The audience cannot help but trust his judgement and perception of things, it is a credibility built from our experience with his mystery solving abilities in the previous arcs. 

The reason why the black water reveal was so impactful and shocking was because of Xielian. The semi narrator continuously made excuses for MingYi, his subconscious trusted him, even if he had his suspicions. He didn’t enforce them strongly enough, leaving the audience to believe Xielian was merely exploring a wrong option for the sake of eliminating possible culprits. The audience was not viewing MingYi as a culprit, rather they were waiting for Xielian to come to the inevitable conclusion of his innocence. An item to quickly cross off the checklist so that they could finally pursue the “real” culprit.

MingYi couldn’t use the Earth Master Shovel? Xielian makes the excuse for him before the audience can even dive deeper on that thought. HuaCheng draws suspicion back to MingYi and Xielian immediately doubts his most trusted confidant’s assumptions. Xielian trusts MingYi, so we trust MingYi against our better judgement. When the narrator has left no room for mistrust, how can the audience hold their stance? 

The proficient push and pull charade played out by Hexuan and Huacheng is another impactful factor that took part in diverting Xielian’s mistrust. The nefarious roles they played policing and suspecting each other, from Hexuan’s “don’t you have spies in the heavens?” to Huacheng’s lie detecting dice game. The solid plan of the two suspicious individuals doing the dirty work for Xielian, did not allow Xielian to mold his thoughts in his own way. He was led astray whilst the other two worked together to draw trust onto each other. So, the audience did not have room for doubt either. 

In addition to all of that, the most fundamental foundation to Xielian’s trust for MingYi was that fact that he was the one who saved him from Huacheng in the first place. Simply because of the ghost city arc, we already place Huacheng and Hexuan on opposing sides rather than assuming they were accomplices. Furthermore, because of Xielian’s trust in Huacheng’s intellect and his belief of Huacheng’s prejudice against MingYi; he would constantly monitor Huacheng’s reaction to his own deductions. Unfortunately, Huacheng was a terrible basis point and by the time Xielian realizes it, it is too late. An ingenious tactic. 

The author led us off track in such a brilliant manner, I had to sing praises at the end of this piece. The way our mind perceives people or situations, is the essence of our moral compass. The mind is subjective, so subjectivity in judgement is ever present, ever grey.

Notes:

This unforgettable and excruciatingly tragic arc is an important turning point in the book and we are all aware that it does not need a special summary. However, I wanted to start with a bit of a reintroduction, just to stay true to the essay tradition. Is this an essay? A think-piece? An analysis? I would not dare shame any of those academic classifications by claiming to be writing as such. 

I hope this was enjoyable to read.

twitter link

[searchingforbucky]

FIC REC (Part 15) :)

Hey guys! I’m sorry it took so long to get the next list out, but I completely scrapped my last one because after two weeks it just wasn’t turning out the way I wanted, so thanks to @bucky-smiles I followed my heart and did what I wanted. So! Now here is a fic rec list of one of my FAVORITE tropes, SOULMATES!! :) 💓 These are pretty much all happy endings because i’ve been feeling a bit down lately, so I hope this makes you as happy as they helped me feel :) *REMINDER: I am still adding to this, so if this is here, that means the list is not done :)*

Flowers Bloom by @revengingbarnes

This one is amazing. So this one is the “flowers bloom wherever their soulmate is hurt” idea. And it’s beautiful. The readers whole left arm is covered in flowers, and she rocks it with her whole heart. She meets a quiet neighbor when she moves to Romania, and the rest is history. This is an extremely emotional, and exciting, and all around lovely story that I will love forever with my whole heart. Also check out her other story Possession

The Florist by @buckyofthemyscira

Let’s talk about CUTE!! This one is about the soulmates sharing a tattoo that represents something about them. I LOVE flower/florist related stories. Bucky is so soft in this, he buys flowers for his ma, he thinks about his soulmate constantly, he’s just the best guy ever 🥺 this story is so beautiful and it’s written so so so well, it’s literally just such a beautiful well done story that made me so happy. Such a feel good fic, also check out her other amazing story Flashbacks

Howlite and Hearts by @authoressskr

This one is so unique, and SO under appreciated in my opinion. It’s a story where people have little dragons that represent themselves, and help connect them to their soulmate. I think it’s adorable, I love the way the dragons are representative of everyone, and honestly just the story, I’ve never read a story like it, its interesting and just really well done. I think my favorite part of it is Godzilla and his relationship with both the reader and Bucky. I’ve read this one multiple times, and it’s been awesome every time!

The Sound of Music by @delicatelyherdreams

This one is adorable. So this one is about how you can hear your soulmate singing in your head. So Bucky never heard songs in his head, until after everything happened, and suddenly there was someone trying to get to know him through song! Cue Bucky being scared of having a soulmate, and trying to shut her out. But the reader is determined! This was just such a cute story, Elle does an amazing job at picking the perfect songs to represent what they want to say. Also check out her amazing Seeing Stars.

Rose by @softlybarnes

This one was an emotional rollercoaster but it still was absolutely amazing. So this one was one where soulmates share each others scars. So when the reader was born, and was covered in scars, you can understand that it was a little shocking. She thought she didn’t have one. Bucky meets the reader at her cafe, and realizes they’re soulmates. Cue a bit of angst and self doubt and being scared of things you aren’t expecting. It’s beautiful, and so lovely. Also check out her wonderful stories Lettered and Teddy bear.

Silver and Gold by @the-omni-princess

This one was so interesting, and I loved the little details. So this one is about people having the first words their soulmate says to them on their wrists, BUT! So awesome, they change colors to colors that are significant to their soulmate which is so so cool. What’s even more unique? The fact that both Steve and Bucky said the same words to the reader, so now what? Cue awesome dynamics between the team, and awesome writing. It was a really good story. Also check out her stories Inked Wrists, Beauty and the Beast, and Sleeping Beauty.

The Owl and the Wolf by @waiting4inspiration

Spirit animal au! Yeeeeeees!! So this is so wonderful, I felt like squeezing everyone around me it was amazing. It was so fluffy, and shy nervous Bucky around his soulmate gives me the will to live and love for the rest of my life. The dynamic between everyone and their animals and the sass, amazing. It really is just a wonderful story and I had so much fun reading it. I might have liked the animals more than Bucky and the Reader ;)

This Has Never Happened Before by @trashpanda-barnes

oh man! Okay so this one is awesome, it’s technically a soulmate AU/reincarnation AUbut I don’t think it ever explicitly states it. It really is so cool and unique. The reader gets stood up on a date, and Bucky sees her through the window and is absolutely drawn to her. Cue the most amazing, ethereal experience they’ve ever had. They know each other intimately and solidly. They know each other's current lives and past lives. But they’ve just met,  It’s really an immersive beautiful read, I felt like I could feel exactly what they could, it was honestly magical. And I’m sure they could say the same.

Say that again by @justsomebucky

So this one is super cool, and it’s where everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right. It’s an AU where the reader works in a diner and Bucky is a hero who lost his arm saving a girl from a bus. He’s shy and very quiet and such a good guy. I love how she represents Bucky in this, a modern way of showing him as a hero and working in his missing arm. The support they show each other immediately? Amazing, love it.

Remember by @captainrogerss

So this is a story of Soulmates having their names written on each others arms, and guess which arm buckys was written on? Surprise, it was the left. But my favorite part of this is how it shows a small scene of him remembering her and forcing himself to remember her during his hydra times, and i love all of the connections each character has to each other, and of course Bucky waits until he needs to be with the reader to meet her. It really is adorable.

Maps by @moonstruckbucky

Loooove this one! So this one is where everyone has a red string of fate – also known as a ‘soulmate string’ – wrapped around their pinkie finger that only they can see. I’ve never seen a red string of fate written the way they’ve  done it here, and it’s so different and it’s a LOVELY rollercoaster of emotions. I was :( in some parts but I was:D in others and it was just so so good. And it’s a Winter Soldier story which I LOVE seeing that dynamic between that character and the reader being soulmates.

Tod and Copper by @fanfictionavalanche

This is another sort of spirit animal story where everyone is born with a spirit animal, only visible to  them and their soulmate, however with a touchable body, that guides them  to their soulmate and vanishes when their duty is fulfilled. This one was CUTE. And boy did I get emotional when the end came, like I got attached that hard in a small fic 🥺 it was so adorable, and anything with animals is a big YES from me, also, the reader getting into trouble immediately is a big mood. Also, fox and the hound reference? Yes :)

Trying to Transmit, Can You Hear Me? By @ironstank

This one is short but sweet. So in this soulmates have a countdown to when they meet each other. My favorite part of this is just how focused on Bucky it is. It’s like little snippets into bucky's life where he thinks he doesn’t have a soulmate. It’s sad, but not enough to make you sad? Like just small heart pangs, but then he meets her. I like the open ending. It’s just a super cute story.

Snowflake by @all1e23

Hell yeah, love this one. This one has soulmates sharing a tattoo.. My favorite part is the relationship between Bucky and Steve. I love that brotherly relationship. Steve drags Bucky to a Christmas festival to get his mind off of his soulmate, and surprise surprise who does he find?? And I LOVE the fact that Bucky is paired with a Christmas living outgoing wonderful girl, it’s such a good paring. I always love Allies stories, and this is another example!

Hunger by @the-canary

this one is painful but Beautiful! So in this one everyone has their soulmates initials on their wrist. This one starts with self sacrificing bucky denying his soulmate. He does it in order to save them from himself, what a dork. It’s so painful because you get all of these peaks into their personal feelings and just how painful it is to exist without each other and to go through that pain, it really is tragic but there’s a happy ending! It’s worth it I swear haha.

Swindled Hearts by @panicfob

oh wow okay, so this one is definitely unique. This story is beautiful, every chapter is like a snapshot of their life. They were both stubborn and strong willed and sassy, but it was such a lovely story of them slowly coming together and learning to love and live with each other. Such domestic cuteness and fluuuuuuuff!! I really love how realistic it was, it didn’t jump into anything, it really just was a wonderful story, people were guarded and unwilling to love, but it prevailed in the end.

WOW OKAY! that was long, I'm sorry lol, but also I'm not. Thank you for reading to the end if you did! This was so fun for me to do :)

[smilesandsarcasm12]

Alright Folks, we’re talking about Next to Normal

So fun fact, I was SUPER into this music in the 5th grade (had some songs on my iPod nano. Thought I was suuuper cool). I really liked the music and lyrics. Eleven year old me could appreciate the well written lines (“sear the soul and leave a scar no treatment can erase” was a personal fav). Also the music itself was good, it drew me in.

I’m no longer in 5th grade. I’m much older, and I’ve been relistening and reading the script.

And MY. GOD.

This show! I’m spellbound by the writing and the story telling.

(PSA: Im NOT a mental health expert. I know nothing. I’m analyzing these characters as if they were characters in a book. This is what I think based on the evidence presented in the show)

TW: mentions of depression, grief, and mental illness

Spoilers ahead!!

So! At the end of the show, when Diana decides she needs to leave Dan, their son Gabe appears to Dan. And Dan says something like “why didn’t you go with her”

And this is when we realize folks, that Dan has been seeing Gabe too. That all his lyrics have a double meaning.

We can go back to “if you don’t name me, you can’t tame me. I’m a perfect stranger who knows you too well”. Dan tries and tries to tame Gabe for Diana, but refuses to acknowledge his existence in Dans own mind.

The repetition of “He’s not here” we think it’s meant for Diana, because all along we’re Lear to believe no one else sees Gabe. In fact it has a double meaning. It’s Dan’s mantra as well as Diana’s. It’s Dan reminding himself that what he’s seeing isn’t real. That it’s a manifestation of grief. Dan has a slightly tighter grip on things than Diana, but only barely.

So let’s go back to the end. Why didn’t Gabe go with Diana? Because Dan hasn’t yet come to terms with Gabe’s death. Dan has just as much work to do as Diana. Fixing Diana would not fix Dan, which might be part of why she never seemed to get “better” and why she ultimately has to leave. Dan’s pain and grief are less visible, but they are still very much there. And if he doesn’t “name them” he cannot fix them.

Anyway, I love Next to Normal and I needed to put my thoughts somewhere.

If you’ve read this far you get a gold star

[icasttourniquet]

Brand Treatment and Surving a Beatdown with Spine Intact

Question: I have a character who gets beat up by a group of people and branded on her cheek. I'd like there to be very little risk of spine injury and for another character to be able to treat her semi-effectively. There is healing magic in the world and it is entirely stat based, not experience based. Thoughts?

We'll focus on the two parts of this questions separately. First, how can you beat someone without risking spine injury? And second, how should you DIY a brand treatment? (Also, and hopefully this goes without saying, but you should not DIY a brand treatment IRL).

Spine Safe Beatdown

It is impossible to guarantee 100% that your injured character (IC) has no spine injury. That said, it's possible to reduce the risk.

Why do spines break?

Like any bone, spines can break. Unlike any random bone, vertebrae have a spinal cord inside them, and the shards of a broken spinal bone can sever the spinal cord, causing numbness, tingling, and paralysis. Spinal column injuries refer to broken bones only. Spinal cord injuries refer to a damaged cord, which almost always comes with at least one broken vertebra too (sort of a two for one injury deal).

Spines are finicky beasts, but they especially dislike the following types of force:

Compression up and down the spine (think like an accordion)

Twisty motions (like cracking your back, but worse)

Bending side to side (t-posing and then swaying from side to side)

Rough head jostling

Assymetric force from the front or back, which could cause the spine to twist

(For more fun breaking bones, see: Can Your Character Survive... Broken Bones?).

Protecting the Spine

So... basically any impact on the head or torso has the possibility to make the spine unhappy. Mod N suggests two equally strong goons punch both shoulders simultaneously and with the same amount of force. Since it's unlikely any goons are feeling that considerate, you can reduce the likelihood of a spine injury if you:

Have your character sitting on a chair with a back or lying down as opposed to standing during their beating. This gives the spine less room to get up to any funny business

Avoid too many blows to the head and neck. In movies, beatings seem to always involve grabbing the poor victim by the hair and then laying them out with a punch. This seems like a great way to get permanent spine and/or brain damage (Hey, Can Your Character Surive... Altered Mental Status, anyone?)

Avoid grabbing and pulling on the body by the head (I haven't been in too many beatdowns myself so I'm not sure if this is a frequent occurance)

Avoid any direct blows to the spine, avoid compression down the spine, avoid too much twisty spine motions

Ruling out Spinal Injuries

While it's best practice to assume spine injury in any trauma case until definitively proven otherwise, there are ways to semi-rule out any serious spine injury before you move someone, including:

Clearing the spine (the caretaking character doesn't appear to have medical experience, so this seems unlikely, but perhaps they could cast Heal Spine before further treatment)

Check if IC reports any unusual numbness or tingling

Check the spine itself for any obvious bruising, bleeding, tenderness, etc.

Ask IC if their spine feels okay (spinal cord injured patients often report that they know something is very wrong even if they don't know what)

If the caretaker has no way to care for a spine injury, it might be enough for them to simply think about the possibility. Or, if they don't have any medical experience at all, they might just jump to treating the more obvious injuries, in this case, the brand.

DIY Brand Treatment

My first thought when I hear about a cheek brand is, yikes and my second is, why doesn't that brand go through the cheek? That said, it appears cheek brands actually did happen historically (drawn images but no pictures of branding in the link).

Appearance

Brands are a type of third degree burn, which means the third layer of skin is affected, as well as the first two (no pictures in the link). The tool used to make the brand will affect the appearance.

Here's a video of someone getting a brand with a precision implement. (This is a dead dove, don't eat situation. Apparently, human branding is a squick of mine. I'm learning so much writing up this response!). In this video, because the hot tool is so tiny, the wound itself mostly looks red and swollen, with a few black lines where the actual brand occured.

I'm assuming when you say brand, you mean something like this:

Brand, from here,

Here's a healing progression—one week, one month, and three months—of a more applicable brand (pictures right at the top of the page after following the link). And here's what NOLS has to say about it: "The skin appears leathery, charred, pearl gray, and dry, or possibly white and firm. The area is sunken and has a burned odor." (I mostly just like "pearl gray" as a color name).

In that case, I think a blackened and charred shape of the brand, surrounded by perhaps a thin layer of white but mostly red and swollen skin is your best bet.

Reaction

Counterintuitively, the branded skin itself might not hurt because the brand has burned away all the nerve endings. I think it's safe to say the area around the brand probably hurts like hell (on account of this area is probably second- and first-degree burns).

There's also the added psychological complication of this brand being on the face, where humans are more psychologically vulnerable to injury. IC is probably not too happy right now, and it will likely be obvious her whole life that someone branded her there, though the shape itself may become obscured by scar tissue.

Here's the summary of a meta-analysis that looked at rates of anxiety and depression in people with visible differences (including facial scarring). It might be a worthwhile read, as might the study itself. Changing Faces is a charity dedicated to helping people with facial injuries.

Brand Concerns

What are we worried about when it comes to branding?

Airway: this is a face brand. Traumatic injuries on the face and neck could potentially interfere with IC's ability to breathe. Needless to say, that would be bad

Infection: skin is in charge of keeping foreign contaminants out of the body. If the skin is burned through, bacteria and viruses have a much easier time getting to the blood

Volume shock: a big enough brand can kill someone outright, though perhaps then it's less accurate to describe it as a brand and more accurate to say someone was burnt to death

Hypothermia: skin also keeps the cold out. In non-balmy environments, even small burns can put you at a high risk for hypothermia

Psychological trauma: for what I hope are obvious reasons

Cheeks aren't big enough for me to be too worried about volume shock or hypothermia, though your caretaker should monitor IC for signs of shock or uncontrollable shivering.

Brand Treatment

The first step with any burn is putting the fire out. Mod N likes to remind me that EMT training says you need to wash out any burn with cold water for 5 to 10 minutes, just in case it is still smoldering. Ideally, this is done with clean water, not ice cold. Do not put ice on the brand!

Next, to prevent infection, clean the wound of any outside debris (dirt, clothes, etc.) and apply some sort of antibacterial salve. If no salve is available, hopefully your caretaker has a Spell of No Bacteria up their sleeves.

Now to dress the wound. If it's relatively small (less than 3 palms of surface area), use a wet to dry dressing. That is, put wet gauze directly on the surface of the wound. Then dry gauze or a dry bandage as the next layer up. Change it once a day for cleaning. If your world has showers, don't put the wound directly under a shower head for at least a week.

Cleaning in this case means both washing the wound and cutting away dead skin. This is usually a dreadful experience for all involved. I have only treated moulaged wounds with a fake victim who screamed far too convincingly and it was miserable.

Inhalation Burns

Observative readers will note I mentioned airway concerns but didn't addressed them. Gold star for that reader. The caretaker should monitor IC's airway as standard practice but they also need to think about inhalation burns, which are burns to the inside of the mouth, throat, and lungs. These are always considered life threatening.

Inhalation burns are caused by breathing in hot materials, such as smoke. In the cosemetic branding video I recommended above, the brander himself wore a gas mask, presumably at least in part to keep from breathing in hot air. With the brand so close to IC's mouth and nose, inhalation burns are a distinct possibility.

Inhalation burns are treated in the wilderness with a swift evacuation. Your caretaker's best bet is going to be to either rule out inhalation burns or treat them magically. Depending on technology levels, a hospital or doctor may be able to help IC too.

Conclusion

IC is going through a bit of a rough patch, between the beatdown and the brand, but it's completely possible for them not to have any life-threatening injuries, especially if the goons avoid their spine during the assault and their brand is small and doesn't involve inhalation burns.

[heywoodvirgin]

Borro Cassette ( chapter 1)

Part 2 of my series : “ Heal our Scars” 

Pairing :  Modern!Jackie Welles / Original Female Character 

Rated : Teens and up

( I really ship Jackie and V and Jackie and Misty but I keep writing him with original characters lol). Anyway. Here some angst and hurt, enjoy if you can :p 

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Knock, knock, knock!

Mey gasped.

A brutal yet sloppy knocking on her door woke her up from a peaceful rest.

She knew no one who would knock on her door, especially not at …2am on a weekday? Jackie was the first person that came to her groggy mind, but Jackie, he had his key, as the only and special member of her VIP club, of course he had his key, unless…

“ Oye mi amor, no me digas que no

Y vamos juntando las alma-aaaas”

Fucking Jackie it was.

“Oye mi amor, no me digas que nooooooo”

Knock! Knock!

“Y vamos juntando los cuerp-ooooos”

His drunken massacre of the song continued on and on as she hurriedly put a robe on and dashed to the door, messily unlocking it.

“What’s— ow ow ow –“

A very dressed up but wasted Jackie tripped on her doorstep, and she had to maneuver a sloshed +300lbs to the wall to prevent her from ending like a stain of mashed pepetos on the floor.

“Ah… knew you would open-you…” he slurred, a lazy smile tugging on his lips.

“Wh- why wouldn’t I?” out of breath and bemused, she tried to support them both as far as her untrained arms could, as he let himself slump further into her. A few moments passed like that and she thought he’d blacked out on her, when she felt his hot breath on her neck.

“Bathroom” he urged in a huff, he sounded pained.

“Yeah of course, of course”

With an approximative shoulder move, she pushed her bathroom door open for him and he fell on his knees before the sink. It’s just when she switched the lights on that she saw.

“Holy fuck! your eye, what the fuck happened!?”

He grumbled, before discharging another pack in the sink.

“Whaddaya think happened?” He wiped his mouth, coughing the last remnants.

“Feel better?” she presented a glass of water “I have coffee, too”

“For later, maybe” Jackie dragged himself to her couch, Mey followed, folded her robe carefully as she faced him, seated on her living room coffee table. Seconds passed in worried silence.

“Now you gonna tell me what happened or not?”

“Huh? Yeah… what happened, Lin… woud-dn’t let me i-hn…”

“That, I know, otherwise you wouldn’t crash like a sack of ham at my door”

“Eugh, don’t be harsh on me, cariño” he closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose.

Jackie only called her sugar-coated names when he was drunk, she sighed.

“Jack, what happened to your eye!”

“Ehn this… Beat up some pendejo, made’im eat his own shit-“

He gave her a drunken, smug smile and shrugged, that’s when her phone started to beep, a message popped in:

Hey Mey, Jackie’s there?

Lin. She debated whether or not to answer, as she anxiously eyed the icebag she put on his damaged eye. Jackie still had those involuntary jolts because of the temperature difference. The man was always too hot, but when drunk, he just burnt like a furnace.  She tried not to linger too much on his sweaty neck, the way the few first buttons of his pale blue shirt gave a good glimpse at his generous cleavage, adorned with his eternal golden chains. She inhaled deep and decided to tap.

Yeah… he’s here, drunk, but ok.

The answer didn’t linger to come.

Thanks god. I know you’ll take good care of him. I couldn’t let him in like that. He has to learn. Thank you Mey, I owe you one. See ya.

Yeah. Mey sighed deeply.

“Oye, watcha looking at in your phone?” Jackie had opened one eye.

“Porn”

“Ay, hate to disrupt” he snickered.

“Your… Lin just texted me”

“Pft”

“You guys are ok?”

“Ella ya no me entiende… no me entiende…” He shook his head, suddenly down.

Do you even still… love her? Mey had only this question in mind, but instantly felt a pang of guilt for thinking to take advantage of her friend’s state to worm truths outta him.

“Had she seen you like that?”

“Didn’t even spare a look’a me”

“It’s not the first time huh”

“What’sss noht” Jackie frowned, apparently needing to focus to make out the simplest questions.

“You coming home to her like that”

“Man’s gotta live too”

“That’s what you call living, Jack?” she poked a finger on his ice bag and he grunted in a boozy protest.

“Ah, now you talk like her…’f you gonna talk like her, I better go!” He tried to lift himself off her couch, but he collapsed down with a thud and a grunt.

“Easy on my couch legs, gordi” She giggled as he gave up struggling with himself.

“Here, let me” She sighed and replaced his hands on his belt, trying to swiftly remove it, chastising the very innocent thoughts that screamed in her mind, she hoped he would shut up and let her do it quickly. She made a hasty work of his shoes next, glancing back at him, she saw him drifting to sleep, a peaceful expression drawn on his face. She didn’t think of her couch as the best place for him to spend the night, but she couldn’t think of a better option, and it was impossible to convince him to change position now, anyway.  She winced, thinking of the state of his neck in the morning, when she heard his low complaint.

“Shirt too… caliente…”

Are you kidding me, Welles?

She didn’t know where to start, pinching her eyelids shut and letting out a long exhale, she felt suddenly tired.

She couldn’t bring herself to touch him again, it was like someone tied her hands together. She thought of Lin, probably asleep in their luxurious loft somewhere in Causeway Bay, tulips sleeping beside her in expensive glass, her boyfriend trusted between the hands of his best friend. They were going to be engaged, Mey saw it in how Lin talked, how she suddenly settled definitely in his once grey and black apartment. Lin was a beautiful woman, all legs and silky skin, soft-spoken and sweet, and as if to make it worse, she was smart and composed, poised when Jackie was hot-headed, tempering his ardent personality perfectly. Mey acknowledged that for some time, she liked them together. Or, she hadn’t had the choice, anyway. Lin was already there when she knew Jack, had always treated her with grace. In all the Welles events, Mey was included, and that extended even to dinners Lin would exclusively hold for her models friends. She was familia, as Jack liked to emphasize, and Lin went with the flow, albeit never offering her her open friendship, she never displayed displeasure or jealousy at her presence, and why would she? She was always showered in Jackie’s most undivided attention, while Mey, a small assemblage of clumsy limbs and nervous shyness, watched from afar the kisses and the caresses and all that PDA shit and cheered and laughed and tried, always tried to overlook it, to push it away. She sometimes succeeded to forget that her dresses were never above the knee and that she would never accept their cheerful invitations for beach trips.

Mey absentmindedly traced the rough edges of her ribs, down to her thighs, the skin there would never heal, she knew.  She looked at Jackie again, snoring softly, his shirt resting on her lap now. Shirt on or off, he still was sweating his balls off. She had a final gesture of freeing his hair from his tight top knot, smoothing it gently before she switched all the lights off and wished him a hushed good night.

*

Mey woke up to fried eggs scent and something else, something saucy and pleasant. She sleepily pushed her drool-stained pillow and sighed, half content half longing, distantly recalling the previous night. Invisible tickly fingers were dragging her to the kitchen, but she first made a detour to the bathroom, smoothing her hair, washing her face and putting some clothes on, something more covering than her sleeping shorts, something that wouldn’t display her- she closed her eyes and hurried up changing, wearing her most cheerful voice as she entered her kitchen.

“Hi”

“Buenos dias!“

“What are you doing?” Jackie was visibly in his element, a hand stirring his ranchera sauce, the other shaking the pan, a kitchen cloth loosely thrown on his solid shoulder. And Mey didn’t know over what or who to drool anymore.

“Eh… a thank- you - I’m- sorry breakfast?”

“You’re silly” She laughed “Mornin’ Jack, how’s the eye?”

“Known worse, take a seat hermana, mi especial huevos rancheros are almost ready!”

“I’ve… your shirt is hung on the bathroom door’s-, it’s clean” She stuttered, thinking she couldn’t take another second of those exposed pecs. What was wrong with her, lately?

“Ah, my shirt can wait, relax and let ol’ Jackie serve you” he patted the seat next to him. He’d put the fried eggs and the sauce on the cooked tortillas, peppered it all with chopped cilantro. The view of the colorful dish was distracting her for a moment as she hummed with anticipation.

“I don’t remember having tortillas around, Jackie”

“S’just a ten-minute trip to the closest supermarket, shame they didn’t have cotija cheese, you’d like it better”

“I’m sure I would, now let’s eat! Won’t we?”

That’s when Jackie’s phone decided to come to life. Mey stopped mid-chew, eying her friend as he devoured his second tortilla, seemingly ignoring the call. She decided to shut up too, the scene reminded her of the first time they met, and she stifled a pensive smile.

“Hey, on which bird’s wing you’re flying?”

“Euh, nothing” she hesitated as her smile faltered.

“Tell me, Jack, about last night… Do you know if any cameras were watching?”

Jackie puffed his cheeks, rambled something she couldn’t understand.

“Of course you don’t, you were like a sheet in the wind”

She didn’t mean it to sound depreciative, but it slipped before she could swallow it.

Jackie started to bounce his leg, like every time he was stressed and uncomfortable. She hated to push, but for some reason, her worries beat her delicacy.

“Do you know the guy at least? I mean… is he one of you fellow boxers? An acquaintance? Jack, I really hope you didn’t mess with one of the high finance guys here… Tell me you didn’t”

Jackie was scratching his tattoos now.

“No, no. No te preocupes por mi, I’ll have a word with the club owner, he knows-“

“Jack, you know the stakes for your caree-“

Jackie’s phone rang again, and he let out a series of colorful Spanish curses.

“I think you should pick up”

“I’m not picking up, mierda!”

Mey gasped in her chair, but he was quick to take her hand, soothing.

“Lo siento, that’s not about you, I’m sorry” he held his head in his hands, rubbing his temples.

“I think I fucked up, Mimi, big time” His voice was tired and shallow.

Her phone beeps prevented her from answering. It was Lin, again.

Please Mey, can you tell Jackie to pick up?

“What’s going on, Jackie?” The huevos rancheros were long forgotten, cooling neglected on the small table in the late morning light.

He winced, eyes looking around, evasive, pained, shameful?

Another beep.

Our gynecologist appointment is in 30 minutes, he can’t do that to me. Talk sense into him, please, you’re the only one he listens to.

“Jack, you have an appointment with the gynecologist in 30 minutes?” She slowly questioned, incredulous eyes still on the text, searching for any mistakes, and finding none. Mey’s stomach churned, but the words didn’t have the time to settle in and it was her phone that rang this time.

“No, no, no, Mey! no contestar!”

All she gave him was a stern look before pressing the reply button.

“Por favo-“

“I’m sending him to you in five minutes”

“Hey, I-“

They were both standing now, in an almost antagonistic way, and Jackie didn’t know what hurt more, the disappointment or the wounded look in his best friend’s eyes.

“You have five minutes to leave this place” Mey’s voice broke, before she ran off to her room, slamming and locking the door behind her.