#This was made for torturing me personally

[hamletthedane]

I know I’m joking about how Wicked Part 2 is going to be insane compared to Part 1, but it actually is so interesting when viewed as separate second part of the story -

Because hear me out - imo, the end of Act 1 sets up where the lines in the sand are for the three key characters:

Elphaba chooses to follow her morals and reject the system, even to her own isolation and destruction. Her line is her dedication to “making good.”

Glinda, her foil, openly admits that she cannot turn down the allure of the system’s power and stability, even at the sacrifice of her morals and her closest friendship. Her line is her power and popularity.

Fiyero, further foiling Glinda, is the person who would have blindly said yes to Elphaba’s offer. He is completely, unquestioningly devoted to Elphaba - even to a fault - believing that she will always be good and choose the right thing (as she “doesn’t care what others think”).* His line is his unwavering loyalty to Elphaba.

*admittedly, this is less evident at the end of Act 1, but it’s made VERY clear within the first 5min of Act 2 so I’m counting it as an Act 1 arc

But then Act 2 forces them to respect the line they’ve decided to draw in increasingly devastating ways, and eventually forces them to violate their lines or have the lines destroy them:

Elphaba’s sacrifices turn her into a complete pariah, forcing her to lose everything she had and worked for in an instant. She fights every day for what she believes in, even though she sees it’s fruitless and only leading to the destruction of everything she loves. But Elphaba stands strong even against the Wizard’s temptation of leaving behind her failing cause. However, she’s finally pushed over her edge when one of the two people who still believed in her “goodness” dies for that belief. And it drives her to throw away every good intention and dive head-first into a pursuit of power and control. She must ultimately be influenced by Glinda to once again choose self-sacrifice for the greater good, giving up her power and dreams of normality in Oz. “Now it’s up to you, for both of us”

Glinda builds great political capital and becomes one of the most important, beloved characters in the nation. But nothing is real: she’s engaged to a man who clearly doesn’t love her, she’s openly decrying a woman who she clearly still loves herself, and the system she operates in troubles her even as she benefits from it. Elphaba again tempts her to leave, and Fiyero’s clear willingness to jump ship should be an even greater temptation, but she can’t leave it behind. Not until the very end of the story does she finally recreate the Ozdust dance: acting against her own self-interest to save Elphaba and take up the fire of her cause

Fiyero, to his credit, is the only person who cannot be pushed from his line. The very first chance he gets, he follows Elphaba blindly, despite hearing all these terrible things about her. Then he willingly sacrifices himself for her and her cause, and they torture him to (a fate worse than) death for it. And even when Elphaba really does go evil, he still believes that she will ultimately choose good. His loyalty to her is not well rewarded (see: fate worse than death), but he makes his sacrifice willingly. His belief destroyed him.

What I really like about the play’s story is that from all these different starting goals and motivations, every character is forced to give up everything that is dear to them - including their fundamental selves - by the end of the story. Yet, they all three still continue to overlap and influence each other in ways that lead them all to a choice of “making good” in the end. SO excited to see that played out on screen.

[demonic0angel]

EDA >:DD

Look, I just... I need more of that... Jorgu... Jorguman... Jorguamdnra?? I can't pronounce that shit— CLARK/DAN SHIP :33. Can we have a uhm, continuation <333

Don't break your wrist if you don't have any more ideas on how to continue it

-A.E. 👻

(Ayo, worry more about your thumb!! 😭)

Part 1

Superman continued to hold onto the man as they all traveled down the hallways silently. The woman, named Jazz, told him the story of what happened before he arrived.

Originally, she had ruled over the Infinite Realms, a place that was the opposite of the living realm, as queen regent, but when she gave up her position to their little brother Danny, he had been cursed alongside their little sister. Since previous rulers were forbidden from taking back the throne after being thrown off or abdicating, the crown was given to the other brother, Dan (nicknamed from Danny, which was weird).

“So now they’re children?” Superman asked for clarification, eying the two sleeping children in Jazz’s arms. They stepped over more bodies as they continued moving.

She nodded grimly. “The true crown belongs to Danny, since he is the one who acquired the crown through right of conquest. However, for the last few years, Dan has been the one taking up the role as king in order for there to be a ruler while the throne remains empty. He had been doing really good… he quit smoking, he stopped killing, he was healing…” The sad look in her eyes darkened into rage. “But the GIW ruined everything.”

“The GIW?” Superman asked, as he silently picked up a piece of debris to allow them all passage through the wrecked hallways.

“We call them the Guys in White, but their real name is the Ghost Investigation Ward, and they’re a government agency created and designed to hunt down ghosts. They’re a bunch of fanatic, genocidal hard heads who won’t rest until they nuke all ghosts and kill us all,” Jazz said, her tone venomous. “We can’t fight against them, so we’ve been largely distracting them with other targets. It seems that somehow, they found a way into the Ghost Zone to capture Danny and Ellie.”

The girl in her arms stirred and Jazz shushed her gently. “Shh, Dani, go back to sleep. It’s okay, I’m taking care of it.”

She fell back asleep and they didn’t stop moving. Superman digested the information, holding Dan closer to his chest. Said man was clinging onto him, arms wrapped around him as he remained asleep to the world.

He looked so innocent and lovely, unlike that murderous monster that Superman couldn’t understand just moments before.

But now, Superman was conflicted as he understood his motives.

“Why… Why did he relapse so badly?” Superman asked, a hand involuntarily moving from Dan’s back to stroke his long hair.

Jazz gave him a backwards glance and clarified, “Dan?”

“Yes.”

“… he didn’t come from our timeline. He’s from another world, where everyone in his family— us— died. He was possibly psychologically tortured by our godfather and then he broke down even further, enough that he asked to be split in two so he could feel better. It didn’t work. He nearly killed our godfather and then he absorbed the evil in him. It turned him insane and he destroyed everything. After he completely destroyed his world, he set sight on ours. He nearly killed me and Danny.”

Superman stared wide eyed at her. “And you forgave him?”

She turned back and smiled softly. “He’s my little brother. I’d forgive him for anything. And he’s much better now. He wasn’t well before. But he’s gotten help and he made the effort. He worked hard to be a better person, but the GIW set him back. So after we finish taking care of them, we’ll take care of him.”

Superman clutched at Dan even harder, a mixture of awe and inspiration taking over him. The movement must’ve jostled him, because Dan snuffled, rubbing his fine facial hair against Superman’s neck. Superman withheld a shudder and said determinedly, “I’ll help you.”

“Hmm. Much appreciated. Could you stop snuggling my little brother now?”

Superman blushed bright red. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” He hadn’t thought she would’ve noticed.

Jazz turned her head enough to give him a disdainful look but didn’t say anything. Danny, peeking over her shoulder, opened his eyes and glared at him. Superman flushed and loosened his grip on Dan, whose expression turned disgruntled from losing warmth as he whined.

Oh dear. How embarrassing.

[directdogman]

Hey dogman, out of all the characters you’ve made who was your favorite to make/write? Oh and who was the hardest?

I truly like writing for all of my characters, but Callum Crown, Phonegingi + Mayor Mingus are three favourites. Stabby + Shooty are always a joy to write as well. All three characters are fun in solo scenes but also make for really fun pairings, though I know you guys haven't seen much of Crown interacting with different characters.

Hardest I think was Oliver. I had intense writer's block when I started with his route. I had basically the whole character outlined but felt something was missing, like I couldn't really see into his head? I could see him, hear him, but I was wondering how I'd write a whole route with the guy. Y'see, I'd finished Randy + Karen's routes at that point and both of them had a pay-off where you wound up learning about a core insecurity of each. Oliver isn't directly insecure in any way and I knew in my heart + soul that I was missing something big in his characterization. I knew who he was, but not why he was the person he was. The question tortured me to the point I almost scrapped the character for a time.

It wound up being his devotion to Mr Dickens and his early life stuff that was missing. Oliver has a really positive attitude, but there is a very subtle underlying sadness to him. In his route, he's doing everything in his power to save his mentor's business, knowing that if he doesn't, Mr Dickens loses out on his dream. We wind up learning later that Mr Dickens has more or less made peace with his fate but Oliver refuses to give up, vows to tear part reality at the seams if he must - if it means he can change the outcome of Mr Dickens' story.

I'm still debating how much of his early life stuff to show and what to put in the DLC vs, say, a short story, but that cements why Oliver feels he has to do anything in order to save Mr Dickens. That extra layer is why I really like Oliver and what makes Randy such a good foil to Oliver as a datable. It makes a lot of sense why Oliver is so much more positive than Randy. Oliver was exposed to more kindness than Randy and feels he has a duty to return it back to the world.

[plumpybread]

Asking because of the previous ask, are you not a fan of Ethan anymore? If so, why?

It's complicated, I suppose (rant where i talk abt ethan but then also my OCs in general)

I really do not like the first version of Ethan I made like 3 years ago. Obviously I like indulging in devilish ideas but I don't know, it ended up turning into something I didn't really end up liking too much.

Then I revisited and sort of rewrote his story a bit a while back when making the OC archive site (I'm aware the site is not available anymore for the people who asked, I took it down myself) and was much happier with it for a while.

Don't get me wrong, I like Ethan, I know he's the OC people seem to like the most, but it's still like a personal mental battle of like maybe it's too effed up? Even when I draw characters going through unwilling/accidental extreme weight gain, I make them either ambivalent or accepting of their situation, but for Ethan it's kind of like torture, and I can't bring myself to get like..aroused and excited to draw more of that *personally*.

Changing up his lore wouldn't really work either since his story is based on helplessness and stuff, and it'd be disingenuous to make him be happy with his situation, so I've just sort of subconsciously decided to leave him as is and treat his content as its self contained story more than nsfw art to goon to, if that makes sense. I don't know, maybe I'm just thinking about it too much, but just wanted to say what goes through my head.

I also don't really revisit Ethan for the same reason I don't tend to draw much of all the past OCs I've made, as I see each of them as a way to explore different facets of how weight gain can manifest and adapt into a character's life to create a story around it, and I feel like I've covered most of the ground around them already.

All of my OCs come from a sudden short prompt that pops up in my head, usually out of nowhere. I suddenly wanted to make a big-hearted southern farm guy who was super massive and I immediately ran to draw Rudy, for example.

I draw them a little reference, with my typical bullet points next to them with basic info to get an idea of what their dynamic is like, and a more lengthily written backstory or description if I'm feeling fancy under it, and then for the next week or two it's all art of them and answering questions about them... and then another idea pops up, and a new OC comes in.

It's not that I get tired of them, but I just simply do not know what to draw with them. Ethan is the biggest outlier in this case, since he is my fattest OC and half immobile, you just don't really know how else to bring something new that's not him laying on his bed at a slightly different angle.

I guess that's why I always do OC asks, I sort of need them to be able to know what to draw with them, since I struggle coming with things like that by myself, and you know I always like avoiding drawing a character in a void with no context.

The Genshin Obesity AU is my longest running like "project"?? thing just because there is an endless amount of content I can pull from since there's all these characters, places and possibilities I can write from. My OCs are obviously much more self-contained and moreso serve as individual experiments to explore different people and scenarios, so after the 10th drawing of them... I genuinely do not know what else I can add to them.

I hope that was a bit insightful. I know most of you guys love Ethan, and I love him too! But I don't know, I guess this is why I don't tend to have immobile/near immobile OCs, since the potential art ideas for them drop to just them sitting on a mattress or sitting on the floor and I'm just left confused on what to do with them.

Maybe Ethan in his college days is something you guys might be interested in? Or I don't know, I'm just writing this post as my thoughts enter my head.

Sorry for the rant, I sure do love typing, hope this clears up some questions people might've had

[m4rv3l-girl]

I've Recently stumbled across your page and I am already in love with your writing! The way you capture the story and the characters amazes me! I've never done this before but I have a request if you have time to make it come alive✨️

Reader is Tony starks daughter and is dating bucky, her dad didn't agree and right before reader had a solo Misson, she argued with Tony about bucky and they left on bad terms, bucky said goodbye and waved off reader on thier Mission. It was only supposed to be a 3 day mission and then home again but reader goes missing, kidnapped by hydra or something and they keep her captive and torture her for information on thier winter solider and Tony and bucky work together despite thier differences to find you. After bucky did some digging he found an old hydra base and seen there was some recent activity and figured that was thier best shot, once they got to you, you was unresponsive and bucky carried you back to the quinjet, and Tony broke down apologising and praying for you to come back. You spend a few days in medbay with bucky and Tony by your side and when you awaken, Tony tells you he approves of bucky and couldn't be happier that you're with him because he loves and cares about you as much as he does🥹

Crossfire

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Kidnapping. Torture. Injury. Blood.

Y/N paced across the polished floors of the Avengers Compound, her mind a whirlwind of frustration and nerves.

The mission briefing echoed faintly in her memory—a quick in-and-out reconnaissance, a simple data retrieval from an abandoned HYDRA facility. Three days, tops. But the tension in the air between her and her father made it feel like she was walking into a battlezone before even stepping foot on the Quinjet.

"You’re distracted," Tony Stark said sharply, leaning against the counter with arms crossed. His tone carried the weight of the argument they had been having for the last twenty minutes. "And you know what happens when you're distracted out there? You make mistakes. Mistakes that could get you killed."

Y/N halted mid-stride, her shoulders squaring as she turned to face him. "I'm not distracted, Dad. I'm focused. You just don’t like the fact that I’m with Bucky."

Tony threw his hands up, his voice rising. "You’re damn right I don’t like it! The guy has a kill list longer than the history of Stark Industries. I’m supposed to be okay with my daughter dating a former HYDRA assassin?"

"Former," Y/N snapped, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "He’s not that person anymore, and you know it. You’ve worked with him, fought alongside him. He’s saved lives—your life."

Tony’s expression tightened, his jaw clenching. "That doesn’t erase what he’s done, Y/N. You’re too close to see the danger—"

"Danger?" she cut him off, incredulous. "You’re one to talk about danger, Dad. I grew up watching you suit up and put your life on the line every other day. And guess what? You weren’t perfect either. Bucky has done everything to make amends, and I love him. Why can’t you just accept that?"

The declaration hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Tony’s face softened for the briefest moment, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. But he quickly buried it under a defensive mask. "I’m not trying to stop you from living your life, Y/N. I’m trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what? From being happy?" Her voice cracked, a mix of anger and despair laced in her words. "I thought you’d understand by now that I don’t need you to protect me. I need you to trust me."

Tony opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by the sound of footsteps entering the room. Bucky Barnes stood in the doorway, his blue eyes flickering between Y/N and Tony, tension etched into every line of his face.

"Everything okay?" Bucky asked, his voice measured but tinged with concern.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Peachy."

Tony shot Bucky a withering glare. "Great. Just in time for the part where I get ignored because you’re here."

Bucky didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he stepped closer to Y/N, his hand brushing hers. "You ready to go, Doll?"

Y/N nodded, her anger with her father momentarily eclipsed by the comfort Bucky’s presence brought her. She grabbed her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder.

"You’re still not listening to me," Tony said, his voice strained as she moved toward the door.

Y/N paused, glancing back at him. "I heard you, Dad. But I’m still going."

The words hung heavy in the air, a finality that neither of them wanted but neither could avoid. Tony’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze dropping as though he’d already lost.

Bucky followed her out into the hangar, his metal arm brushing against her shoulder. "You good?" he asked quietly once they were out of earshot.

Y/N exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "Not really, but I will be. He’ll come around eventually. He has to."

Bucky frowned, his brows knitting together. "I’m sorry. I know this is hard."

Y/N stopped walking and turned to face him. "It’s not your fault, Bucky. He’ll see what I see in you someday." Her voice softened, her hand reaching up to rest against his chest. "And when he does, he’ll realize you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me."

Bucky’s lips twitched into a small, grateful smile, but his eyes still held a trace of sadness. "I’ll wait as long as it takes, Doll."

The Quinjet engines roared to life behind them, signaling her departure. Bucky walked her the rest of the way in silence, his hand never leaving hers. At the base of the ramp, he stopped, his grip tightening just slightly.

"Come back to me," he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

"I always do," she replied, forcing a brave smile.

Bucky hesitated, then leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough to make her heart ache. He stepped back as the ramp began to close, his eyes locked on hers until the Quinjet doors sealed shut.

Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself as the jet lifted off. The mission awaited, and she had no idea it would be the hardest battle she’d ever face.

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

The Quinjet’s descent was smooth, its engines humming softly as it hovered over the outskirts of the abandoned HYDRA facility. Y/N sat strapped into her seat, her mind focused on the mission at hand. It was just a data retrieval—no direct confrontation expected, no heavy lifting. Simple. Yet she couldn’t shake the lingering weight of her argument with Tony, his voice still echoing in her head.

"You make mistakes when you’re distracted."

Shaking off the thought, Y/N tightened the straps of her tactical vest and tapped the comms in her ear. "Quinjet’s holding steady. I’m heading in now," she said, her voice calm and collected.

"Copy that," Natasha’s voice came through the comms. "We’ll be on standby if anything goes sideways. Keep your comm open."

"Always do," Y/N replied, grabbing her pack and stepping off the ramp.

The facility was quiet, overgrown with weeds and moss, the metallic structure dulled by time and abandonment. The surrounding trees swayed slightly in the wind, their shadows stretching ominously over the building’s rusted exterior. It looked like any other defunct HYDRA site—empty, unassuming, and forgotten. But Y/N knew better. HYDRA rarely left things without a reason.

She approached the entrance, her boots crunching softly against the gravel. Her fingers brushed over the keypad by the door. It was broken, wires spilling out like spilled guts. It took only a few moments of tinkering before the door groaned open, revealing a dimly lit corridor beyond.

"First door’s open," Y/N reported, stepping inside.

"Good. Be careful," Natasha replied.

The air inside was stale and cold, carrying the metallic tang of disuse. Y/N moved cautiously, her steps light but deliberate. The map of the facility played out in her mind as she advanced toward the central server room. It wasn’t far—just down a few turns and one floor below.

The first few corridors were uneventful, lined with old HYDRA propaganda and broken equipment. She paused briefly to inspect her surroundings, ensuring she wasn’t leaving tracks or triggering any dormant security systems.

"How’s it looking?" Natasha asked over comms.

"Quiet," Y/N replied. "Almost too quiet. I’m at the main staircase now, heading down to the server room."

Descending the steps, Y/N felt a chill creep up her spine. It wasn’t fear—not yet—but the kind of awareness that came from knowing she wasn’t truly alone. She tightened her grip on her weapon, her other hand brushing over her utility belt.

The server room door came into view, heavy and fortified with an old HYDRA insignia etched into its surface. It was locked, of course, but Y/N was prepared. Pulling a small device from her belt, she attached it to the door’s lock. The device beeped softly, hacking into the outdated system.

"Almost in," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone on the comms.

The lock clicked open with a satisfying hiss. Y/N pushed the door ajar and slipped inside, her eyes scanning the room quickly. Rows of servers stood like silent sentinels, their lights flickering faintly. Dust hung in the air, illuminated by the faint glow of the machinery.

"Made it to the server room. Starting the data download now," she reported, setting her pack down.

"Copy. Keep your eyes peeled," Natasha warned.

"Don’t worry, I’ve got this," Y/N replied, inserting a small drive into one of the servers.

The drive blinked to life, and data began to flow onto its storage. Y/N kept her weapon close, her gaze flickering between the server and the door. Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness—the hum of the servers, the soft beep of the download, the distant groan of the building’s aging infrastructure.

"Download at 30%," she said after a few minutes.

The process was uneventful, just as she’d hoped. At 70%, she allowed herself a small smile. This was exactly what she needed—a straightforward mission, no complications, no distractions. It would give her time to clear her head, to figure out how to talk to Tony when she got back.

The drive beeped again, signaling completion. Y/N pulled it free, tucking it securely into her belt pouch.

"Data’s secure. Heading back to the Quinjet," she said, rising to her feet.

"Good work," Natasha said. "Keep an eye out—something feels off about this one."

Y/N didn’t argue. She felt it too, that unsettling itch at the back of her mind. Her senses sharpened as she made her way back to the staircase, her steps even quieter now. The corridors seemed darker than before, the shadows longer and more sinister.

She was halfway up the stairs when she heard it—the faintest shuffle of movement behind her. Y/N froze, her heart skipping a beat. Slowly, she turned, her weapon raised.

The staircase was empty, but the air felt heavier.

"Nat, I think I’ve got company," Y/N whispered into the comms.

"Do you see anything?" Natasha asked, her tone instantly alert.

"Not yet," Y/N replied, backing up the stairs.

She was almost at the top when a sharp noise echoed through the corridor—a clang of metal against metal. Y/N whirled around just as a shadow moved in the corner of her vision. Before she could react, a figure lunged at her from the side, slamming her against the wall.

Her weapon clattered to the ground as she struggled against the assailant, a HYDRA agent clad in tactical gear. She managed to drive her knee into his gut, sending him stumbling back, but more figures emerged from the shadows.

"Ambush!" Y/N shouted into the comms, adrenaline surging through her veins.

"Y/N, get out of there!" Natasha’s voice was sharp, but the words barely registered.

The agents swarmed her, their movements precise and coordinated. Y/N fought fiercely, her training kicking in as she blocked blows and struck back. She landed a punch that sent one agent reeling, then ducked under another’s swing, sweeping his legs out from under him.

But there were too many of them.

A sharp pain exploded at the base of her skull as one of the agents struck her from behind. Y/N’s vision blurred, her knees buckling. She tried to fight through it, but the world tilted violently, and darkness crept in at the edges of her sight.

"Y/N!" Natasha’s voice was frantic in her ear.

The last thing Y/N saw before the world went black was the HYDRA insignia on one of the agent’s uniforms.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Consciousness crept back slowly.

Accompanied by the steady throb of her head and the unmistakable ache of her muscles pulled too tight.

Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing dim, flickering light. The air was stiff, carrying the sharp scent of metal and disinfectant. She tried to move, but her body was restrained. Her wrists burned where they chafed against something unyielding. As her senses sharpened, she realized she was tied to a chair, her arms pinned behind her and her legs strapped down tightly.

The room was sterile and barren, its walls an industrial gray with faint streaks of rust. A single lightbulb swung overhead, casting shifting shadows around the space. There was no window, no visible way out except for a heavy metal door directly in front of her.

Y/N tugged at her bindings experimentally, her breath hitching when the cuffs dug deeper into her skin. They were reinforced, leaving little room for maneuvering.

Her comms were gone, her weapons stripped away. She was completely alone.

Before she could test her restraints further, the door groaned open. Y/N’s eyes snapped up, her expression hardening as a HYDRA agent strolled in. He was tall and wiry, with sharp features and a smug grin that made her stomach turn. His uniform was pristine, adorned with the HYDRA insignia on the shoulder.

“Well, look who’s awake,” the man drawled, his voice smooth and dripping with false cheer. He carried a clipboard in one hand, tapping it lightly against his palm as he approached.

Y/N didn’t respond, keeping her face blank despite the fear roiling in her chest.

The man circled her slowly, his boots clicking against the floor. “Y/N Stark,” he mused, as if testing her name on his tongue. “Tony Stark’s pride and joy. And yet here you are, all alone, with no daddy or boyfriend to save you.”

She clenched her jaw but said nothing.

The agent chuckled. “Silent treatment, huh? That’s fine. I have all the time in the world.” He stopped in front of her, crouching so they were eye level. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know. About Stark. About Barnes. About SHIELD.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a defiant smirk. “Go to hell.”

The agent’s smile didn’t waver. He straightened, setting his clipboard on a nearby table. “I was hoping you’d say that. It makes things more fun for me.”

He picked up a small device from the table—a thin rod with a glowing blue tip. Y/N recognized it instantly: a neural stimulator, HYDRA’s favorite tool for “persuasion.” It sent jolts of electricity directly into the nervous system, causing excruciating pain without leaving a mark.

Y/N forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to show fear.

The agent tilted his head, studying her. “You know, I’ve always admired your kind. So loyal. So resilient. But everyone has a breaking point.”

He activated the device, the blue light intensifying. “Let’s find yours.”

Before she could brace herself, he pressed the rod against her side.

White-hot pain exploded through her body, stealing her breath. Her muscles seized involuntarily, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips. The pain was blinding, radiating from the point of contact and spreading like wildfire.

When he pulled the device away, Y/N slumped forward, her breathing ragged.

“Still with me?” the agent taunted, tapping the rod against his palm.

Y/N forced herself upright, glaring at him through the haze of pain. “Is that all you’ve got?” she rasped, her voice hoarse but defiant.

His smile faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. “Tough girl,” he said, almost admiringly. “But this is only the beginning.”

The next jolt was worse, targeting her thigh. The electricity tore through her muscles, leaving them trembling and weak. She bit down hard on her lip to stifle a scream, tasting blood.

“Tell me about the Winter Soldier,” the agent demanded, his tone sharp now. “Where is he? What does he know about HYDRA’s operations?”

Y/N spat blood onto the floor, her eyes blazing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sneered, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back. “Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. We know you’ve been cozying up to him. You think you can keep secrets from us?”

Her head throbbed where he pulled, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “You’re wasting your time,” she said through gritted teeth.

His grip tightened before he released her abruptly, sending her head lolling forward. “Fine,” he said coldly. “We’ll do this the hard way.”

The next hour was a blur of pain. The agent alternated between the neural stimulator and his fists, delivering calculated strikes to her ribs and abdomen. He peppered her with questions, each one more demanding than the last.

“Where is Barnes?” “What are Stark’s latest projects?” “What does SHIELD know about HYDRA’s current operations?”

Each time, Y/N’s answer was the same: silence or defiance.

Her body screamed in protest, every nerve on fire. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her vision swam, but she held onto one thought with iron resolve: Don’t break.

By the time the agent stepped back, she was barely upright. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her head hanging limply.

“You’re stronger than I expected,” he admitted, wiping his brow. “But strength only lasts so long.”

Y/N lifted her head weakly, a faint smile playing on her cracked lips. “You’ll… have to try harder than that.”

His expression darkened, and he raised the neural stimulator again. But before he could use it, the door creaked open, and another agent entered.

“Enough,” the newcomer said firmly, glancing at Y/N with a mix of disdain and curiosity. “We need her alive.”

The first agent hesitated, his grip tightening on the device. “She hasn’t given us anything.”

“Then we’ll keep trying,” the newcomer replied. “But for now, she needs to recover. Dead subjects are useless to us.”

Reluctantly, the first agent set the device down. He leaned in close to Y/N, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re lucky,” he hissed. “But don’t think this is over.”

He stepped back, and the two agents exchanged a few hushed words before leaving the room. The door slammed shut, plunging Y/N back into oppressive silence.

She slumped in her chair, every inch of her body throbbing with pain. Her breathing was shallow, her head heavy. But deep inside, a flicker of hope remained.

Bucky will come for me, she thought. He always does.

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The morning after Y/N left for her mission dawned uneventfully in New York. Bucky Barnes sat in the Avengers Tower common room, staring at the cold coffee in his hand. He wasn’t much of a morning person, but sleeping last night had been nearly impossible. He’d spent most of the night going over his last conversation with Y/N.

Her kiss had lingered, both on his lips and in his memory, but her nervous energy had also left a knot in his chest. He’d tried to reassure her that she’d be fine, but deep down, Bucky hated every second she spent on solo missions. She was capable—he knew that better than anyone—but the fear of losing her gnawed at him constantly.

Still, he’d let her go. She’d hugged him tight and told him to trust her, and he’d kissed her temple, swallowing his protests. Now all he could do was wait.

Tony Stark walked into the room, his usual swagger missing. He had his tablet in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. His face was drawn, and though he wouldn’t admit it, the argument with Y/N before she left had taken its toll.

"Barnes," Tony greeted curtly, settling into a chair across the room.

“Stark,” Bucky replied, just as curt. The tension between them was palpable, but both men had agreed to coexist for Y/N’s sake.

Tony’s gaze flickered to Bucky’s untouched coffee. “What, no appetite for caffeine today? Don’t tell me you’re losing your edge.”

Bucky didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing. “Just not in the mood.”

Tony let out a low hum, tapping at his tablet. He wasn’t one to dwell on feelings, but the weight of their last argument sat heavy on his chest. He couldn’t shake the image of Y/N’s frustrated face, her voice cracking as she defended Bucky.

"She’ll be fine," Tony muttered, more to himself than Bucky.

Bucky’s gaze snapped to him. “You better hope so,” he said quietly. “Otherwise, you’re going to regret every word you said to her.”

Before Tony could fire back, FRIDAY’s voice interrupted.

“Mr. Stark, Sergeant Barnes, I’m detecting an irregularity with Miss Stark’s mission. Her comms have gone offline.”

Both men froze, the tension in the room morphing into something heavier.

“What do you mean ‘offline’?” Tony demanded, sitting upright.

“Miss Stark’s communicator went dark approximately seven minutes ago,” FRIDAY responded. “I’ve attempted to reestablish contact, but there’s no response.”

Bucky was already on his feet, his expression hardening. “Seven minutes? And you’re just telling us now?”

“I alerted you as soon as the anomaly was detected,” FRIDAY replied evenly.

Tony swiped at his tablet, pulling up the mission parameters and Y/N’s last known location. A map of Eastern Europe materialized on the screen, marked with a blinking red dot.

“She was in contact before this,” Tony said, his voice tight. “She reported everything was going according to plan. What the hell happened?”

Bucky stepped closer, peering over Tony’s shoulder. “Can you pinpoint her last known coordinates?”

“Already done,” FRIDAY replied. The map zoomed in on a dense forested area. “Her last transmission came from these coordinates. There’s no sign of further movement.”

“She could’ve lost the signal,” Tony reasoned, though his tone was far from confident.

“Or someone took her out,” Bucky said bluntly, his jaw clenched.

Tony shot him a glare. “Real helpful, Barnes.”

“It’s a possibility,” Bucky snapped. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. If her comms went dark, something’s wrong.”

For a moment, neither man spoke. Then Tony turned to FRIDAY. “Initiate satellite surveillance of that area. I want eyes on the ground, now.”

“I’ve already started the process,” FRIDAY confirmed. “However, the forest cover in the region is dense, and visual clarity may be limited.”

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides. He hated feeling powerless. The soldier in him wanted to grab a weapon and go, but without more intel, he’d be running blind.

“What about her tracker?” Bucky asked suddenly.

Tony frowned. “She wasn’t wearing a full tracker. Just the one embedded in her comms unit.”

“Of course she wasn’t,” Bucky muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

“Don’t start with me, Barnes,” Tony snapped. “She insisted on traveling light, and I didn’t exactly have time to argue after our—” He cut himself off, biting back the word argument.

Bucky turned on him, his blue eyes blazing. “You didn’t argue because you were too busy picking a fight with her about me. And now she’s out there, missing, and we’re wasting time because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

Tony slammed his tablet down on the table, standing to face Bucky. “Don’t you dare put this on me,” he hissed. “She’s an agent. She knew the risks.”

“She’s your daughter,” Bucky growled. “And you should’ve supported her instead of pushing her away.”

The room fell silent, both men breathing heavily as the weight of their words settled between them.

“Gentlemen,” FRIDAY interjected, “I suggest you put your differences aside. I’ve detected signs of unusual activity near Miss Stark’s last known location.”

Tony and Bucky immediately turned to the screen, their argument forgotten.

“What kind of activity?” Tony asked.

“Thermal imaging shows multiple heat signatures converging on the area shortly after Miss Stark’s comms went offline,” FRIDAY reported. “It’s possible she encountered hostiles.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “HYDRA?”

“There’s no confirmation yet,” FRIDAY replied.

Tony grabbed his tablet, his hands moving rapidly as he analyzed the data. “We’re wasting time sitting here. Get the quinjet ready,” he barked.

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He was already heading for the armory.

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The quinjet hummed as it cut through the sky, slicing through clouds with precision. Tony sat in the pilot’s seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the controls. Bucky sat beside him, silently scanning the mission data on a tablet.

Neither man spoke. The weight of their shared fear hung heavy in the air, but neither dared voice it.

“How far out are we?” Bucky asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Thirty minutes,” Tony replied, his voice clipped.

Bucky nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen. The thermal imaging showed nothing new, just the same cluster of heat signatures near Y/N’s last location.

“She’s strong,” Tony said suddenly, his tone almost defensive. “She’ll hold out.”

Bucky glanced at him. For a moment, he considered saying something comforting, but the words felt foreign on his tongue. Instead, he nodded. “Yeah. She will.”

But deep down, both men knew the truth: time was running out.

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When the quinjet landed, Bucky and Tony moved quickly, stepping into the dense forest with weapons drawn. FRIDAY’s guidance led them to Y/N’s last known coordinates, the eerie silence of the woods amplifying their unease.

The site was undisturbed, save for a few scuff marks in the dirt that hinted at a struggle. Bucky crouched, his fingers brushing against the ground.

“Tracks,” he muttered. “Boot prints. At least six people.”

Tony scanned the area with a handheld device, his jaw tightening. “They took her,” he said grimly. “We need to move.”

Bucky rose to his feet, his expression dark. “Let’s go.”

Together, they followed the trail deeper into the forest, their determination unwavering. Neither man said it aloud, but the same thought echoed in their minds: We’re coming for you, Y/N. Hold on.

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The sharp sting of fluorescent lights buzzed above Y/N’s head, piercing through the darkness she had come to find solace in.

Every time her mind threatened to pull her away, back to a place of quiet oblivion, another jolt of pain grounded her to the suffocating reality of the room.

It had been a full day, though it felt like weeks. Time had blurred, lost in the cycle of pain, silence, and interrogation. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a drink of water. Her throat was dry, her lips cracked, and each shallow breath she took sent spikes of agony through her ribs. She was sure one, maybe two, were broken.

But she was alive.

That fact alone gave her the smallest sliver of defiance to hold onto, even as her body screamed at her to give up.

The metal chair she was tied to groaned softly as she shifted, her wrists raw from where the restraints dug into her skin. Her head hung low, strands of her hair matted with sweat and blood clinging to her face. She blinked slowly, trying to focus her vision, but the pounding ache in her skull made even that a monumental effort.

The door creaked open, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. She clenched her fists, summoning what little strength she had left to steel herself.

“Still breathing, I see,” a voice sneered.

The Hydra agent stepped into the room, his boots echoing ominously against the concrete floor. He was tall, with a thin, wiry frame that belied the strength he wielded. His cold, calculating eyes scanned her, searching for cracks in the armor she wore so stubbornly.

Y/N didn’t answer. She kept her gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledgment.

“You’ve held up,” he said, circling her like a vulture.

“I always do.” She spat.

“You think you’re strong,” he whispered, his voice venomous. “But everyone breaks eventually. You will tell me what I want to know.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her throat burning. “Go to hell,” she rasped, her voice barely audible.

The agent smirked. “Ah, defiance. Admirable. But futile.”

He rose to his feet, pacing slowly. “Tell me about the Winter Soldier,” he demanded. “His weaknesses. His routines. Anything useful.”

Y/N lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze. Her lip curled into a faint smirk, though the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through her. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

The agent’s expression darkened. Without warning, he lashed out, his fist connecting with her cheek. Her head snapped to the side, stars exploding behind her eyelids.

“Wrong answer,” he said coldly.

Y/N tasted blood, metallic and bitter, pooling in her mouth. She spat it out, the crimson splatter landing on the floor between them.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said, his voice low and menacing.

The hours that followed were a blur of agony. The Hydra agent wasn’t particularly creative in his methods, but he was thorough. He punched, kicked, and struck her with calculated precision, targeting places that would hurt the most while leaving her alive enough to endure more.

Y/N bit down hard on her lip to stifle her cries, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream. She focused on one thing: staying silent. Every moment she resisted was a victory, a small act of rebellion against the monster before her.

Her mind drifted to Bucky. She clung to the memory of his voice, the warmth of his touch, the way his arms felt around her. She imagined him whispering reassurances, telling her to hold on, that he was coming for her.

“I’ll find you, Doll,” she could almost hear him say, his voice steady and sure. “Just hold on a little longer.”

It wasn’t real, but it was enough to keep her going.

Eventually, the Hydra agent grew frustrated. His fists were bloodied from the beating, and Y/N’s defiance had begun to grate on him.

“Why do you fight so hard for him?” he demanded, his voice filled with venom. “Do you think he’d do the same for you? He’s a monster. A killer. Do you really think you’re anything more than a distraction to him?”

Y/N’s head lolled forward, her vision swimming. She was too exhausted to lift her head, but she managed to rasp, “You don’t know him.”

The agent growled in frustration, slamming his fist into the wall. He turned to the guard stationed by the door. “Bring the electric setup,” he barked.

Y/N’s heart sank. She had endured physical pain, but the thought of being electrocuted sent a spike of fear through her. She closed her eyes, trying to summon the last dregs of her strength.

The minutes stretched into an eternity before the guard returned, wheeling in a cart with a sinister-looking device. The Hydra agent grinned wickedly as he connected the electrodes, his eyes gleaming with malice.

“This,” he said, holding up the wires, “is going to be much worse.”

Y/N’s breaths came in shallow pants. She refused to show fear, but the trembling in her body betrayed her.

The first shock hit her like a lightning bolt, her muscles seizing violently as pain tore through her. She bit down on her tongue, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth again.

“Talk!” the agent demanded, turning the dial higher.

Y/N shook her head weakly, tears streaming down her face. “Never,” she gasped.

The shocks came again and again, each one more excruciating than the last. Her vision blurred, her mind teetering on the edge of consciousness. She wanted to give up, to let the darkness take her, but the thought of Bucky and her father kept her hanging on.

“They’ll find me,” she whispered through cracked lips. “You won’t win.”

The agent sneered. “We’ll see about that.”

She didn’t know how much longer she could last, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet.

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The hum of the Quinjet’s engines was deafening in the silence between Tony and Bucky. It wasn’t the soothing kind of quiet, the type that offered peace. This was the kind of silence that screamed louder than words, thick with desperation, fear, and the unspoken truth neither man wanted to voice.

Time was slipping through their fingers.

Bucky sat rigid in his seat, his metal hand clenched so tightly around the edge of the table that the material groaned in protest. His flesh hand rested on his thigh, fingers twitching with barely restrained agitation. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on the holographic map in front of them, narrowing on the blinking red dot that marked the last location Y/N had been before her comms went dark.

"Why haven’t we heard anything yet?" Bucky growled, his voice low and edged with a dangerous kind of fury.

Tony stood at the console across from him, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack. His fingers flew across the controls, pulling up every Hydra base within a 200-mile radius, cross-referencing them with known activity. It wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

"Don’t think for a second I’m not doing everything in my power," Tony snapped, though his tone lacked its usual bite. He was too worried, too consumed by the gnawing guilt threatening to consume him whole.

The argument they’d had—the words he’d thrown at her—played on an endless loop in his mind.

"You think I’m going to stand by and let him ruin you?" "You’re better off without him, Y/N." "I can’t protect you if you don’t listen to me!"

He had been wrong. He knew that now. Bucky wasn’t the enemy, not when the real danger was out there, holding his daughter captive.

"Her last ping was here," Tony said, jabbing a finger at the map. "A base Hydra abandoned years ago. But…"

"But it’s not abandoned anymore," Bucky finished, his voice cold and flat.

Tony nodded, swallowing hard. "Satellite scans picked up heat signatures. They’re faint, but they’re there. It’s our best lead."

Bucky pushed up from his chair, pacing like a caged animal. His hands flexed at his sides, the familiar rage simmering just beneath his skin. "If they hurt her—"

"They did," Tony interrupted, his voice cracking slightly. "You don’t take someone like her and leave them unharmed. We both know that."

The weight of the statement hit them both, a brutal reminder of the clock ticking down on Y/N’s life.

As the Quinjet drew closer to the coordinates, the tension in the cabin became suffocating. Tony adjusted his suit piece by piece, the arc reactor glowing faintly as he prepared for battle. Bucky was already geared up, his combat knife strapped to his thigh and his rifle slung over his shoulder.

They didn’t talk much. There wasn’t anything left to say.

The Quinjet’s navigation system beeped, and FRIDAY’s voice cut through the silence. "We’ll arrive at the designated coordinates in five minutes."

Bucky inhaled deeply, steadying himself. His mind raced with thoughts of Y/N—her laugh, her stubbornness, the way she always looked at him like he was more than his past. She had to be alive. She had to be.

"FRIDAY, scan for life signs as soon as we’re in range," Tony ordered, his voice firm but hollow.

"Already running scans, sir," the AI replied.

The Quinjet began its descent, the Hydra base looming in the distance like a jagged scar on the earth. The surrounding area was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck stand up.

"This feels wrong," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the horizon.

Tony didn’t answer. He was already moving, the ramp lowering as the Quinjet touched down. Bucky followed without hesitation, his every sense on high alert.

The base was dilapidated, overgrown with weeds and rusted with age, but it was clearly operational. Lights flickered faintly in the windows, and the faint hum of machinery echoed from somewhere deep inside.

They moved quickly and quietly through the corridors, clearing rooms with precision. Every second that passed without finding her felt like a lifetime.

"Anything, FRIDAY?" Tony asked, his voice a strained whisper.

"One faint life sign detected below ground," the AI replied.

Bucky’s heart stopped. "Is it her?"

"Unknown, Sergeant Barnes. The readings are weak, likely due to interference."

Tony exchanged a look with Bucky, and for the first time, they were united in their fear. "Then we don’t have time to waste," Tony said.

The descent into the lower levels of the base was harrowing. The deeper they went, the darker and more oppressive the air became. Bucky’s grip on his rifle tightened, his knuckles white as he fought to keep his emotions in check.

When they reached the door to the room FRIDAY had identified, Tony hesitated. His hand hovered over the panel, his eyes darting to Bucky.

"You ready?" he asked.

Bucky didn’t answer. He simply nodded, his jaw set in determination.

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The room was cold, a damp chill seeping into Y/N's bones as if the very walls around her were trying to finish what her captors had started. Her head lolled to the side, resting against the edge of the chair. Each breath rattled in her chest, shallow and labored. She blinked sluggishly, the dim light overhead casting uneven shadows that seemed to mock her.

The Hydra agent who had come in earlier was gone now, his absence offering no relief. His tools of torment lay discarded on the table nearby: a scorched prod, frayed wires that still sparked faintly, and a bloodied rag he had carelessly tossed aside.

Her body bore the marks of his persistence, evidence of her refusal to give in. The electrical burns on her arms still throbbed, skin raw and blistered, and blood trickled down her temple from a cut that hadn’t stopped bleeding since he had struck her last.

She had screamed. She had cried. But she had not spoken.

"You’ll tell me what I want to know eventually," the agent had sneered earlier, his gloved hand tracing the edge of the prod. "Everyone breaks, little Stark. Even you."

Y/N had glared at him through swollen eyes, lips trembling but silent. Her defiance had earned her another jolt of electricity, the current tearing through her body with merciless efficiency.

She hadn't screamed that time.

Now, alone again, she wasn’t sure if her silence had been bravery or stupidity. It didn’t matter anymore. She was dying. She could feel it in the way her body was shutting down, each pulse of her heartbeat weaker than the last.

The faintest flicker of hope she’d clung to for the last day—Has it been a day?—was now extinguished. She had believed, foolishly, that someone would find her. That Bucky would find her. But the hours stretched on, the silence within the base mocking her.

No one was coming.

Her head tipped back, and a soft, bitter laugh escaped her cracked lips, though it hurt to even make the sound. The effort sent a sharp pain through her ribs, where she suspected at least one was broken.

"Guess this is it," she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible. Her throat felt like sandpaper, each word scraping against it painfully.

Her thoughts turned to Bucky, unbidden but inevitable. She pictured his face—those piercing blue eyes, the slight scrunch of his brow when he was worried. The way he always called her Doll with such affection it made her heart ache.

He had always been her safe place, her anchor. But now, she was adrift, sinking beneath the weight of her despair.

And Tony… her dad.

Tears pricked her eyes, blurring her vision. She thought of the last conversation they'd had, the fight that had sent her storming off. The words they’d exchanged burned as much as the wounds covering her body.

"You think you’re untouchable because you’re my daughter? Because you’re dating Barnes?" "You don’t trust me to handle myself, and that’s the problem."

She had been so angry, so sure of herself. But now, sitting here on the edge of death, she couldn’t even remember what she had said to him as her final words before the mission.

Would Tony regret them? Would he care?

A fresh wave of despair rolled over her, heavy and suffocating. She let her eyes slip closed, her body slumping further against the restraints.

She was so tired.

Time lost meaning in the haze of pain and exhaustion. Seconds blurred into minutes, minutes into hours. The only constants were the ache in her body and the pounding in her head, faint and unrelenting.

At some point, the Hydra agent had returned. His boots clicked against the floor as he approached, his silhouette looming over her. He said something, but the words were garbled, unintelligible.

He hit her again—she didn’t know where, only that it hurt. And then he left, muttering something about "usefulness" as he disappeared through the door.

She was alone again.

Y/N’s breaths came in shallow gasps, her lungs burning with every inhale. She tried to lift her head, but it felt too heavy, her strength long since drained.

She tilted her gaze upward, staring at the cracked ceiling. The faintest flicker of a thought crossed her mind—a desperate plea she hadn’t dared to voice before.

"If anyone’s out there… please."

The silence answered her.

It wasn’t until later—how much later, she couldn’t say—that she heard it.

At first, it was so faint she thought she was imagining it. A soft hum, low and soothing, cutting through the oppressive quiet of the room.

Her brows furrowed, confusion flickering across her bruised face. Was it her mind playing tricks on her? A final mercy before the end?

But then it grew louder, more distinct.

A voice.

Her heart stuttered in her chest, the faint rhythm skipping erratically. She strained to focus, to make sense of the sound.

"Doll…?…Y/N?..."

Her eyes fluttered open, wide despite the agony that coursed through her. That voice. She would recognize it anywhere.

"Bucky," she croaked, the name barely escaping her lips.

Her body trembled as she tried to move, to shift against the restraints holding her down. The pain was excruciating, but she didn’t care.

They were here.

She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. Bucky had found her.

The faint hum of his voice was joined by another sound—a distant, rhythmic pounding. Footsteps.

Her breath hitched as tears spilled down her cheeks, cutting through the grime that covered her skin. "Bucky," she tried again, louder this time, though it came out as more of a rasp.

The footsteps grew closer, the sound echoing through the hallways like a beacon. She forced her head up, her neck protesting the movement, and fixed her gaze on the door.

Please…

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The door slid open with a groan, revealing a scene that made both men’s hearts drop.

Y/N was slumped in a chair in the center of the room, her head hanging low, her body battered and bruised. Her hands were tied behind her back, her wrists raw and bloody. The floor beneath her was stained crimson, a grim testament to what she had endured.

"Y/N!" Bucky’s voice broke as he rushed to her side, dropping his rifle and cupping her face gently in his hands.

Her skin was pale, her breaths shallow. She didn’t respond, her head lolling slightly as Bucky tried to rouse her.

"Come on, Doll," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Stay with me."

Tony stood frozen for a moment, his mind struggling to process the sight of his daughter in such a state. But then he was moving, fumbling with the restraints to free her.

"She’s alive," he said, his voice shaking. "Barely, but she’s alive."

Bucky didn’t let go of her, his thumb brushing softly over her cheek. "We’ve got you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We’ve got you, Doll. You’re safe now."

Tony swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We need to get her out of here. Now."

Bucky nodded, scooping her up as gently as he could. She didn’t stir, her body limp in his arms.

"Hang on, Y/N," Tony whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, just hang on."

As they carried her back to the Quinjet, the weight of their failure pressed down on them both. They had found her, but the fight was far from over.

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The soft whir of the Quinjet engines filled the cabin as it raced back to the compound.

Bucky sat with Y/N cradled in his arms, his hand trembling as it brushed gently against her cheek. Her face was battered, her skin pale beneath the bruises and streaks of dried blood.

“You’re okay Doll, hang in there…” he whispered, his voice cracking as he spoke. “You’re almost there. Just hang on a little longer.”

Y/N’s head leaned against his chest, her breaths shallow but steady. She tried to respond, to offer him the comfort she knew he desperately needed, but her voice was a faint rasp.

Across the cabin, Tony sat hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands tangled in his hair. He stared at Y/N with an expression that Bucky had never seen on him before—raw, unfiltered anguish.

“She’s going to make it,” Tony muttered, as if saying it aloud would will it into existence. “She has to.”

Bucky didn’t reply, his focus entirely on Y/N. He could feel her heartbeat, faint but persistent, as if she were clinging to him with the last of her strength.

“Just a little longer,” he murmured again, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The Quinjet touched down at the compound, and a team of medics was already waiting. Bruce Banner, dressed in scrubs, stepped forward, his expression grim but focused.

“Let’s move her,” Bruce said firmly, directing the medics to carefully transfer Y/N onto a stretcher. Bucky reluctantly let her go, his hands lingering as if afraid she might disappear the moment he wasn’t holding her.

“I’m going with her,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Bruce nodded, sparing him a brief glance. “Fine, but let us do our job, Bucky.”

Tony followed behind them, his silence unnerving. He hadn’t spoken since they landed, his usual bravado replaced by a heavy, suffocating guilt.

In the medical bay, the atmosphere was tense as Bruce and his team worked on Y/N. Machines beeped steadily, monitoring her fragile vitals. Bucky stood at the edge of the room, his fists clenched as he watched them clean her wounds, set her broken rib, and stitch the gash on her temple.

Tony stood beside him, his gaze fixed on Y/N’s pale face. He finally broke the silence, his voice barely audible.

“This is my fault,” he said, his hands shaking. “If I hadn’t—if we hadn’t fought before she left…”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from Y/N. “This isn’t about the fight,” he said quietly. “It’s about them. Hydra. Don’t lose focus now.”

Tony didn’t reply, but the guilt in his eyes remained.

After what felt like an eternity, Bruce stepped back, pulling off his gloves. “She’s stable for now,” he said, addressing both men. “The next 24 hours will be critical. She needs rest and observation, but she’s a fighter. If anyone can pull through this, it’s Y/N.”

Bucky nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

Hours later, the medical bay was quiet. Tony sat slumped in a chair by Y/N’s bedside, his head in his hands. Bucky was on the other side, his metal hand resting gently over hers.

“She always gets herself into trouble,” Tony muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was thick with emotion. “Just like her mom.”

Bucky glanced up at him, surprised by the vulnerability in Tony’s tone.

“She used to drive me crazy, you know,” Tony continued, his eyes glistening. “So damn stubborn. I see so much of her in Y/N.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “I was wrong about you, Barnes.”

Bucky blinked, caught off guard by the admission.

“You love her,” Tony said, his voice firm despite the tremor in it. “I see that now. And she… she loves you, too. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. Someone who’d protect her when I couldn’t.”

Bucky’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened. “I’ll always protect her,” he said softly. “I swear.”

Tony nodded, his jaw tightening as he fought back tears.

It wasn’t until early the next morning that Y/N stirred. Her fingers twitched first, a faint movement that made Bucky’s breath catch.

“Doll?” he whispered, leaning closer.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she let out a soft groan. Slowly, her eyes opened, unfocused and glassy but undeniably alive.

“Bucky?” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here, Doll.”

Tony was at her other side in an instant, his expression a mix of relief and overwhelming guilt. “Hey, kiddo,” he said softly. “You gave us a hell of a scare.”

Y/N’s gaze shifted to him, her brows furrowing slightly. “Dad?”

Tony nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah, it’s me. I…” He hesitated, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. For everything. For the fight, for not trusting you… for not being there when you needed me. I…You picked a good one, Sweetie, I’m sorry, He’s..—”

“Stop,” she whispered, her lips curving into a faint smile despite the pain it caused. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Tony exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as he reached for her hand.

Bucky leaned in closer, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. “You scared the hell out of me, Doll,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I thought I lost you.”

Her tired eyes met his, and she managed a small, teasing smile. “You’re stuck with me, Barnes.”

His lips twitched upward, a weak chuckle escaping him. “I’m so glad you came back to me,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

Y/N’s smile softened, her gaze steady despite her exhaustion.

“I always do.”

——————————————————————————————————

Thank you for taking the time to leave a request. Hope you enjoyed it, Hun! 🫶

Requests Open!

[northernolddragon]

Ironically, Spite isn't fully evil. He is a capricious child, quite demanding, but at the same time, he has an understanding of who is dear to Lucanis and who is a threat to him and a danger.

He is like a certain Venom, which increases the strength of the Raven (Luc) due to its demonic essence and is a catalyst for normal sleep for its owner. He is like a cat that doesn't let you fall asleep, expecting that if the owner is still inclined to rest, you can play pranks.

If your Rook is in a relationship with a Demon, then you will probably notice (if your character isn't against a third contradictory object in the relationship) that Lucanis and Spite have already become one, and sometimes, one behaves like the other, without losing himself in his stable character. I think the educational talks with Spite and the code of the Raven itself made him an ally and a friend. They themselves didn't notice how attached they became to each other, even despite some denial and problems that Spite can still cause, Lucanis accepts him. He confidentially places a cup of coffee in front of him, confidentially prepares a place for him next to him, showing how the demonic entity has become almost tangible and alive for him. With each stage of the game, Spite moves from 'enemy in reflection' to 'friend in reflection'.

Additionally: do you know what touches me the most? That Lucanis was kind to the demon. And remains kind to him throughout the entire playthrough. He does not want to get rid of him, he behaves passively when the companions discuss how to remove Spite. Raven says 'he's okay' when Spite hurts him. It's nothing. After all, it was his demon that pecked him. He'll figure it out himself. Just like he did before, when Spite was the only being who felt the torture and possible abuse that was being done to his host. And maybe there's some gratitude in that, too, for the fact that Lucanis wasn't alone then.

I was touched by how Spite reacted to Manfred's absence if you chose to transform Emmrich into the Lord of Lich. He is very demanding about his skeleton friend's return. He throws a short tantrum about it. Probably, as Assan could talk to Manfred, the demon had the same opportunity. And it is this detail that makes him sensitive. My opinion is that this is the influence of the host himself - Lucanis - because he is soft and kind, and this influenced Spite as well. If the demon was planted in someone cruel, accordingly, Spite would absorb completely different emotional impulses. But since here and now there is a concept of 'family', which is one of the types of predetermination of the surrounding personalities, he behaves accordingly.

[heechwe]

wait one more i just had a genius idea minghao + vibrator + "if you wanted soft and gentle you’ve come to the wrong person" :3

@okiedokrie teehee

With the bullet vibrator between Minghao’s fingers making your legs shake as he prods your opening with his tongue, a realization knocks you back to your senses: your boyfriend loves to torture you.

Surely you had not done anything warranting such punishment, the one you love bringing you to the brink of orgasm five times by now but never letting you fall of the precipice completely. You made his favorite dinner, watched a movie he had been recommending for weeks, and even started the night with sucking his cock for a good twenty minutes.

How did you find yourself here?

The multiple whines and mewls for Minghao to let you come have gone unanswered. The only response he’s given has been him changing positions and devices to make the pain and pleasure start all over again.

“Hao, stop fucking teasing me, please,” you beg, rutting your hips into his face and the vibrator still sending intense bouts of pressure to your clit.

All he can do is smile up at you, his chin coated in your arousal. “If you wanted soft and gentle, you’ve come to the wrong person.”

hosting a drabble game; come request one!🤍

[captainlunaxmen]

All for the Cameras

Chapter 12

Finnick Odair x Fem!reader

Hello hello hello 👋🏻

Hope you guys are well, we're close to the end here. This chapter is a little shorter, mostly because I wanted to separate the part in 13 and then when they get to the Capitol.

Hope you like it. Once again, let me know what you think, and if you want to be tagged in the next chapters, let me know❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Chapter summary: progress

Chapter wanrings: panic attack, Finnick being an understanding cutie pie, mention of torture and death.

Tag list.

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @abaker74 @syd649 @meikoo @secretsicanthideanymore @p1stachi @laylasshiftingtonight @yourmumstoy @s0urw00lf @kermits-bitch @littleshadow17

@piya-re @ivymyers @potao-o @wqstedyouths @kaceyh24 @miniatureblazellama @lillell4670 @11jaz @f1blogs @ooddiieesblog @capswife

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

It's been a few days since I arrived in 13, I've been recovering rather quickly according to the doctors and to Prim, who's been by my side constantly.

I managed to give more information on what I saw and heard in the Capitol, so that made me feel useful. Some of the people in 13 are still suspicious of me, which is understandable, I would too...

I still can't properly look at Finnick, not for more than 3 seconds, which is an improvement from the 2 seconds of the first day, but it's still not enough. I can see how hurt Finnick gets from all of this, I'm afraid he thinks it's his fault, because it's not, I try to remind him as much as I can, but I thinks it's getting to him a little too much.

--------------

"Don't you have better things to do than be present during my examinations?" I ask Boggs, while the nurse gently uses the needle on my skin.

"I don't actually." He states and I smile.

"Is... is he doing okay?" I tentatively ask, he sighs taking a seat on a chair.

"He's doing better, Mason is with him constantly reminding him 'not to take shit personally', as she puts it." He chuckles, "do not beat yourself up, he knows you can't help it, it's not your fault."

"I know, but-"

"No buts, don't blame yourself for what you've been through." He looks me straight in the eyes, "hear me?"

"Yes, sir." I nod, "is there anything more I could try maybe?" I ask the nurse.

"I'm afraid such rehabilitation takes time, my dear." She gently explains, "but you're making great progresses, that I can promise you."

I sigh, defeated.

"Don't rush yourself." Boggs insists.

"But I feel useless." I complain, "I saw people coming and going, doing all they can to help and I am here needing assistance."

"Useless? Don't you realise how helpful you've been, even from the Capitol?" He sounds outraged almost, "your secret messages, your information on Peeta's condition and those treatments. You've been more than helpful."

"Thank you, sir." I smile, grateful for his words.

There's a knock on the door and soon after Plutarch walks in.

"Afternoon, miss L/n. How do you feel?" He asks.

"Physically? I'm fine. Mentally? To be determined." I say, forcing out a small smile.

"That's good enough to hear." He nods his head and sighs deeply, "listen, I wouldn't want to ask this, but we need you today."

"For what?" Boggs asks, sitting straighter, almost protective.

"We heard some of the districts are still uncertain... and... some found out about the rescue mission and don't agree with her saving." Plutarch's reluctant to say it, "we need to prove them-"

"That I'm not with the Capitol... yeah, what do I have to do?" I nod, determined to be of assistance.

"We'll broadcast your images to all districts, you'll have to explain what they did to you." He explains, watching me carefully.

"Is that really necessary?" Boggs sighs.

"I'm afraid so." Plutarch then looks at me, "do you understand it, miss L/n?"

"I... I do, Plutarch, when will I have to... talk?"

"I'm very sorry, but a few minutes." He says, Boggs shakes his head violently, frustrated.

During my time here he became a good, let's say, uncle figure. We bonded almost immediately and he always checked on me. I think he started because this way Finnick would be able to get some proper rest, but now I think he cares about me, like I do him.

"Okay..." I take deep breaths, "can I... can I have a moment?"

"Of course." Plutarch nods and walks out.

"You don't have to." Boggs is quick to assure me.

"I actually do." I stand up, taking deep breaths, my hands on my hips, walking around the room.

Boggs' eyes follow me, ready to be of help if needed.

"He'll need to pass through me, if he thinks he can force you." He reassures me, more to make me laugh than to mean an actual threat.

"Yeah, what about the president?"

"Even her? No one touches my friend." He proud crosses his arms.

"Oh so we're friends?" I ask, joking with him, sensing he's trying to calm me down.

"Of course, the only other smart person in here? I'm not letting you go." He chuckles and I do too.

I notice, I stopped pacing around and my breathing went beck to normal. He notices too, but still watches me carefully.

"Okay... okay." I say nodding.

"Are you sure?" He checks.

"I'm not, but if I think too much about it my legs will freeze and nothing will be done." I shake my head, "let's go."

Boggs lets me pass and when I exit the room Plutarch is there waiting for me.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

I look at Boggs, with supportive eyes he nods slightly, I turn to Plutarch again and nod my head. Plutarch smiles and led me to the controll room, Beetee already there waiting for us.

"We're going to broadcast you to all districts, and hopefully they'll listen." Beete tells me, messing around with wires and buttons.

"What if they don't?" I ask, looking at Plutarch.

"They will." He confidently states.

I take a deep, deep breath and nod. All sort of thing run in my mind. All sort of doubts, but I need to shove them all away and stay calm.

"Just stand over there and, just like Finnick did, don't stop talking okay?" Beetee's instructions are clear, but they make me wonder.

"Finnick?" I ask.

"To create a distraction, let's say, we had Finnick talk to the Capitol." Plutarch tries to explain, simply.

"Finnick... what.. what did he..?" The question is cleat but I don't think I need the answer. I'm afraid I already know it. The only confirmation comes from Plutarch's nodding head.

I feel my eyes burning with tears forming, but I try to collect myself. I let out a puff of air and wipe my face immediately.

"Are you ready?" Beetee asks, I nod, not yet trusting my voice, "go stand over there, and when you see the green light, speak."

I nod understanding and I go to stand where Beetee pointed.

I take deep breaths, my eyes fixed on the still red light, deep breaths, everything is okay, I'm okay, deep breaths, I'm safe, we're safe, deep breaths, I look for Boggs and I see his reassuring nod so I nod back, everything is okay, deep breaths, the light turn green... deep... breaths.

"Hi... uh... I'm Y/n L/n, and unfortunately many of you may know me as Capitol's Princess... I say unfortunately because, that was not a life worth of a princess. I wasn't a princess... I was a prisoner. You know how it feels to not be free, so do I, that's why you're free to believe me or not, because we're fighting for that exact thing: freedom. I'll tell my story to whoever is willing to listen, I hope there's many."

I start telling my story, again, Snow taking me and my brother in after our parents' death... my brother. The threats, the blackmails, extortions, the sellings, Cal...and the tortures.

I can't help the fidgeting hands, I can't help my voice breaking everytime I mention my brother, or everytime I had to perform for a customer, I'm surprised if someone would be able to understand what I'm saying.

I let out a puff of air, I don't even bother trying to hold back tears, they just come out and I let them.

"They made me scared of my friends. Everytime I look at them I... I... it's fucked. I'm here telling you my story, so you can believe me... it's crazy," I whisper shaking my head, "you should fight because you believe in the cause... the Games are not the only horrors happening, everything needs to be fixed, everything needs to change." I turn around, hands on my hips, to calm me down, "I... one thing scares me the most though, I'm afraid they fucked me up so much that I'll never... ever be able to love, or to let someone else love me, because I'm fucked. Unfortunately they did a good job on this. Thanks for listening."

I quickly rush out, I didn't even see if they tried to stop me or not...probably not.

I feel my heart pounding violently in my chest and my breathing is getting heavier. I head to the hospital side of the district, but as I see many of the nurses' faces I get overwhelmed.

Too many people.

I... can't.

"Y/n?" A voice calls me, "are you okay?" Johanna's walking towards me. I stop her immediately.

"Not real.... it wasn't real... right?" I ask.

"What are you talking about?" She asks, "the things thw Capitol showed you? No it wasn't."

"I... I ju-... I..." I collapse on the floor, shielding my head with my hands.

I can hear Johanna talking to me, but I cannae out what she's saying. I'm just protecting myself.

Finnick's Pov

Finnick heads to the controll room, he wants to support Y/n, knowing they wanted her to talk to the districts. He wanted to be present, he know he won't be able to show his face, in case it will set her off, but he wants, he needs to be there for her.

When he arrives he notices she isn't there.

"Where's Y/n?" He asks, worry starting to get its way in his brain.

"Uhm..." Beetee is uncertain on how to tell him.

"Well?" Finnick urges him, and anyone present, for that matter.

"She's wasn't feeling well all of a sudden." Plutarch tells him.

"What?" He's fully worried.

"She started to get anxious, I'm afraid." Beetee says, "she ran out."

"And you haven't thought of following her?" Finnick exclaims, but he doesn't wait for an answer and immediately rushed out, wanting to find her.

He immediately goes to the hospital, he thinks that if Y/n felt anxious she'd go there to get something.

That's exactly where he find her, on the floor, Johanna comforting her, talking to her.

"Listen to me, Y/n... can you hear me?" She keeps saying.

"What happened?" Finnick asks, alarmed.

"I saw her coming in, she was like she was having trouble breathing and then she collapsed on the floor. She asked me of what the Capitol showed her was real..." Johanna explains, still caressing Y/n's back.

"Y/n..." Finnick tries to call her name. Nothing.

"I don't think she hears you."

Finnick shakes his head and kneels on the floor with the two women.

He tentatively holds out a hand to touch her back too, like Johanna's doing. When his hand touches Y/n, she freezes.

"Y/n... listen to me." He says, softly, "focus on my voice, okay?" There's no answer from Y/n, but he keeps going anyway, "you are safe. No one is here to hurt you. You're sa-: his voice breaks a little, like his heart at the sight of his love hurting so much, "you're safe." He keeps going, taking a deep breath. "You are safe, we all are."

"I'm sorry..." it was so faint it's a miracle Finnick heard it.

Y/n slowly move her hands away from her head, but her eyes are still on the ground.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/n." Finnick assures her, seeking support in Johanna, who nods.

"He's right, you know." She would say.

"I..." Y/n lets out a big puff of air, "I... could you help me stand?"

"Of course." Johanna immediately helps her stand up, weakly but she manages, "want me to help you back to your room?"

"No... It's okay... Finnick can help me..." Y/n says, catching both former tributes off guard, "If he wants.. of course." She quickly adds, uncertain.

"Of course, I do." He immediately agrees.

"Thanks."

--------------

Finnick helps Y/n sit on her bed, careful not to overstep.

"Thank you." She softly says, she still can't seem to want to meet his eyes, but Finnick is okay with that, he knows it will take time for her, exactly like it will take time for him.

"My pleasure, my love." He charmingly says. He tries to use his charm to make her smile, which succeeds, noticing her lips twitching upwards lightly.

"I'm not sure I deserve such title after all." She sadly chuckles.

"What are you talking about? Of course you deserve it." Finnick scoffs.

"I can't even look at you, Finnick.." she says, broken voice and tears in her eyes.

"You're saying it like it's your fault." Finnick says softly, "can I get closer?" He asks and when she nods, he sits next to her, "can I hold your hand?" She nods again, "what you've been through is not your fault, not even a little bit. Hear me? You're being so strong, you've always been so strong, to the point of ignoring your own fears, traumas and wounds to help others. You never blame them for feeling and reacting the way they did... so why are you blaming yourself now?" He speaks softly, catching himself before his voice could break too, he takes a moment before adding, "do you remember the tour after Annie won?" He waits for Y/n to nod, "she wouldn't let anyone touch her, you were the only one to get closer, but she-"

"She throw a glass at me..." Y/n says.

"You were bleeding so much, yet you didn't leave her side until she felt safe and... understood." Finnick reminds her, "Peacekeepers threatened to hold her, but you screamed at them to leave her alone. I think I remember you pushing one out of a room too." He lets out a laugh, "you've stayed with her, ignoring the blood, ignoring your pain. And when someone asked you if she apologised for throwing that at you you said..." he trails off hinting to Y/n to continue.

"That she had nothing to apologise," Y/n finishes the story, "it wasn't her fault."

"Exactly." Finnick nods, "so, what I want to say is... you don't have to be strong all the time, you don't have to heal immediately, you can, you're allowed to take your time."

"There's a war starting, Finnick..." she tries.

"I don't care. You're allowed to." He firmly, yet still softly, tells her, "I'm not going anywhere any time soon." He smiles at her even though she's not looking at him.

"Thank you, Finnick." She says, squeezing his hand, grateful.

"Don't mention it," he nudges her affectionately.

Y/n's Pov

As the days pass I realise I don't get nightmares as much as when I first arrived, which makes me hopeful. I do try to remember Finnick's words about taking my time and not rush my healing process.

Unfortunately I can't seem to look at him still, but being near him helps. Especially when he holds my hands, it's like he can infuse me with his hope and apparently it helps calming me.

Tonight, I've been informed, we will celebrate a wedding. I'm not sure as to who's getting married, but the whole district is invited so I'll test myself tonight. If I can go the whole time without feeling overwhelmed, it'll be a victory.

And, goodness, I need one.

--------------

"You're not dancing?" A voice asks behind me. I turn around to Boggs looking out at the people dancing.

"Never been one for dances, I'm afraid." I bite my lips uncertainty.

"Neither am I." He laughs, standing next to me.

"I heard about what happened in 2..." I casually say.

"Never once a casual conversation about the weather?" He jokes.

"Nope." I say, "plus, I saw Katniss being brought back in that state, I had to ask." I explain, "I'm just glad she's okay. I saw the footage."

"Do you think Snow will think her dead?" He asks me.

"Mh... I can't really say." I say, "no one thought of making a tribute to her or anything like that, so he probably doesn't think so, but maybe he's thinking we're taking our time in announcing her death so that those who don't know can still rely on her, but it's very unlikely." I explain, "but he definitely didn't like the destruction of the weapon supply."

"That's predictable." Boggs agrees.

"Someone's gonna pay in Snow's circle... I wouldn't want to be him..." I say, casually.

"Him?"

"He probably would blame his defense minister... can't recall his name now." I tell him.

"I don't want you to take it the wrong way, miss L/n... but I'm glad you've lived in the Capitol your whole life."He tells me, almost in awe.

"I'm just... I just learned to observe as much as I could." I shrug.

"Well you're clearly the only one here who knows Snow to the bone. You're one of the best asset." He assures me.

"I'm glad I can be of any help." I bitterly say.

"We've talked about this, miss L/n." He subtly scolds me.

"I know, I know." I nods, waving him off.

"So, how are you feeling now?"He asks.

"I'm surprisingly good." I nod, surprised.

"Good enough to dance?" He hints, "with someone who's been checking on you everyday since you got here?"

I laugh, slightly, knowing who he is hinting to.

"You know Finnick is not the only one checking on me everyday, right?" I ask, Haymitch too, oh and you as well."

"Try and ask Abernathy to dance and I'm afraid you'll lose your feet." He jokes, "c'mon, you've been testing yourself tonight, right? Might as well try everything."

He softly pushes me towards Finnick on the other side of the room.

"Hey.." I catch his attention.

"Hey!" He's surprised, but doesn't mention it, "are you having fun?"

"Yeah... surprisingly so." I nod, "you?"

"Same." He chuckles, I know he's looking at me, "are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, yes, definitely, don't worry about me." I tell him and before he can say it, "you'll always worry about me, yes, yes, I know." I chuckle and he does too, "do you want to dance?"

"Uh?"

"Come dance..?" I ask, feeling self-conscious.

"I'd love to." He gently takes my hand and lead me to the dance floor.

As we follow the others dancing, I manage to takes glimpses of his face, of his hopeful face. I divert my eyes immediately, but I can't help the smile on my face. I know if I look at him more my brain will start to wonder and bring me back to the Capitol, but this small, quick moment is enough to bring hope back in my heart.

And the evening goes on, celebrating and for a few moments forgetting the impelling war.

--------------

I'm summoned to the controll room urgently, I can't tell what might be going on.

As I near the room I can hear voices coming from inside.

"Are you sure you want to send her too?" Haymitch.

"She knows their ways better then anyone on that team," Boggs, "I wouldn't dream of asking this of her, but we need her."

"Send who where?" I ask, entering the room, finally.

"Miss L/n." Plutarch smiles at me, "hope you slept well, you're needed on a mission."

"What..?" I ask.

"We are to go join Katniss to the outskirts of the Capitol." Boggs informes me.

"What?" I ask again.

"Welcome to Squad 451, the Star Squad."

[larry-is-my-anchor1]

Hey Tim, how are you? This may be a bit forward of me, but whenever you decide to make Buddie canon can you consider the following title for the episode: “Do you feel the same? Too scared to say.”?

I just feel Buddie going cannon still may not be in the works for the second half of season eight. It shouldn’t certainly be a big aha reveal either with teaser commercials. It should be gradual and organic. Much like Bucks and Eddie’s relationship. I feel like so much care and respect have been given to them. I think for the most part for all of the characters.

But also there is still so-much work to be done with Eddie delving into his feelings. Show timeline is only three months since Christopher left. I gather much more time won’t have passed when the show returns in March. (😭). I would love to see Eddie work on himself more and repair his relationship with his son. Perhaps get him away from his stupid parents. Who truly are not helping.

I think Eddie still may realize his feelings before Buck though. But maybe Buck will realize before but does not want to be a cliche of falling for his best friend so he won’t act on his feelings? Or maybe Buck in his own time does tell Eddie but at first Eddie isn’t ready because although he’s finally out he’s scared. They both have abandonment issues, maybe both of them won’t say anything for sometime?? Their dance is moving away from the point of you fools have always been in-love, to why aren’t you fools acting on your feelings? Buddie is clearly end game.

We need scenes with Eddie admitting his attraction to men. Either when he was younger, maybe during his time in the army. Or maybe when he was in high school during the period when he and Shannon broke up. Perhaps the show could explore why Eddie stopped going to church. And his sexual identity was the reason. His faith has no room for homosexuality. But his family and church were still strong influences to stay with a girl. And Shannon was just the perfect person to hide with. Maybe that’s why he ran away at first to the army. He just didn’t know how he got to where he was. Marriage, a baby and being an adult. Whatever that meant. They all were so overwhelming. Maybe his parents made him “behave” like the man of the house because they knew for sometime that Eddie was not heterosexual. We need to see his discovery lore and why he hid himself. The shame society and religion put on queer people. But also joy meant being selfish in most religions. To act out on joy bring negative consequences. Eddie isn’t there yet with not punishing himself.

Also been trying to figure out who would want to kidnap Maddie? Is it a random distraught person? A serial killer? Someone out for vengeance? Why Maddie? Why does the show have to be all full throttle with drama and also torture us with well we’re not sure yet how Buddie will go? Why though? After all the eye fucking they have done for the last seven seasons!

Season eight seems all over the place. After watching and rewatching the show a few times I’m having trouble seeing how main story lines and subplots were woven together.

Is it weird I kind of got used to the mustache. I know it represents something negative but I like it on Eddie.

The waiting is torture and it’s only the beginning.

[lucifermorningstar-official]

Well, I apparently predate the universe, but since the person who found me erased my memories, I don't know any other life than this one.

My finder, God the Father, made me kill people as one of his angels of death. Then, he refused to apologise for torturing humans, so I waged war on him. That... It didn't end too well...

{open Starter} revenge

*Lilith wasn't one to talk and more was it about her past, but she was sneaking out in the night which wasn't uncommon with being a child of the night but she seemed to be on a mission*

What do you do?

(tags @acezinspace @emdabitchass @urbestestwindgod @cloak-of-ares @least-favorite-hades-kid @penelope-is-waiting @odysseus-of-ithaca-is-lost @aura-of-the-winds @lucifermorningstar-official @the-speedster-god @lethia-not-athena @the-god-ofwar @seleneandheliosog @/anyone )

(my master list)

(tell me if you want to be added or remove)

[caffeinatedattorney]

i was personally robbed. What do you mean Harvey wears glasses in this???

[taxinealkaloids]

horrible children who are. so so mean to each other

[moongothic]

Madoka is the promise you won't turn from a child, full of hopes and dreams and the wish to save the world, into a bitter adult who just wants to hurt others and ruin people's lives

Madoka promised to be there for you to remind you of the person you wanted to be and to stop you from becoming what you sought to destroy

Madoka made that promise and became the very embodiment of it

[dealershipcoffee]

AAAAAA!!! Ok I have some thoughts on this too. I actually don’t want Korekiyo to be more likeable and I don’t really mind the whole inc3$t thing, it reminds me of Norman Bates. I take the whole feelings for his sister as another part of him being delusional and an unreliable narrator and they were never actually in a relationship. I don’t think anything nasty or gross should be “separated” from him, as that’s what makes Korekiyo, Korekiyo. He’s an absolutely insane guy that has extremely twisted views on humans and tried to explain why murder and other illegal things aren’t actually bad because people only made laws saying they were bad. And I don’t think that his backstory drives people away from the rest of his character, I mean half of the content you see of him is actually people pumping out sympathy points for him because of his fanon backstory. I also don’t think the writers should’ve done anything to make him more palatable. In fact, in the artbook, Kodaka wrote down how he was planning to make Korekiyo even creepier, but the staff told him it would be too much (this is literally a game about murder how would it be too much??) But yeah I really hate the whole gr00ming headcanon and whatnot. He most likely does have childhood trauma but he doesn’t need this overblown tragic backstory so he can just be another character who does terrible things but turns out he’s just misunderstood and now has a scapegoat for all his wrongdoing. He would still be an amazing character and villain. This might be a little too much opinion but I also don’t like it bc why are we blaming a girl who has zero lines who we never see on screen whose personality is only hinted by an unreliable narrator for a man’s actions….and there’s a lot of double standards in not just Korekiyo’s fanbase but the DR fandom as a whole as well. People sweep Korekiyo’s actions under the rug because of a popular fan theory, but Mukuro who was explicitly shown to be manipulated by Junko has multiple posts made about her and how she’s a terrible person too and she’s apart of organizations and stuff. Or when people downplay Korekiyo being a serial killer by saying “Maki killed people too” etc. Maki was at the hands of a cult, was tortured every single day, and had to kill people for her own life and for the lives of others. Korekiyo killed people with his own free will for his own sick reasons. And once you start analyzing the girls that he finds “unworthy” and why he praises Kirumi so much, you start to realize that he selects his victims based off of his judgement on how well a woman performs femininity in his eyes. I’m going to mention Victorian hysteria so here’s something to look back at for reference:

What I mean is, to make this segment as short as possible, Maki is quite blunt and tends to not sugarcoat anything which would most likely get her called a “b1tch” Miu, and yes I know she lacks any sort of boundaries, but she’s very vocal about her urges desires sexuality etc etc, and is disliked by Korekiyo for being too “vulgar.” If Miu were alive in the Victorian Era (which Korekiyo seems to be very fond of) she would be diagnosed with hysteria (aka what women who acted out of line with societal norms were diagnosed with), and these are the symptoms which she meets quite a few of.

I also wanna mention that Miu is literally on the same freak level as Korekiyo, has the same kinks as him and Korekiyo has even said some inappropriate things about himself out of the blue (when he mentioned the women of a village he visited begging him to stay) yet for some reason he hates Miu for having all of those common traits with him. He’s also rude to Maki and Miu on multiple occasions (ie. before the third trial) Like, Miu doesn’t even say anything remotely nasty here, and he just insults her unprovoked

And when you look at all of this, and then look back to Chapter 2 when he’s constantly fawning over Kirumi (who is literally the Ultimate Maid, and gets called “mom” constantly by the cast even though she’s expressed her dislike for that but i guess they don’t care), and then you look back at the “The Hysterical Female” article, especially the first paragraph, Korekiyo holding Kirumi to such high regards compared to literally any other girl in the cast starts to become unsettling.

So now that we’ve talked about how much of a jerk he already is, now I need to talk about how he literally starts entering douchebag territory.

Just listing a few examples:

the way he handles Angie (keep in mind she’s still alive just unconscious)

literally wearing her around his neck….carelessly plopping her on the floor, and then immediately knocking her over. and it gets worse.

“No, not just because I could” he saw an opportunity, and he took it, just because he could. Not only was Angie alone and had her back turned, but she was also killed around 2am. Everyone else would have been in the dormitories sleeping, so even if Angie didn’t get so unlucky, nobody would’ve been there to help her.

And….the love suite event. “The love hotels aren’t canon!” “It didn’t actually happen, it’s a fantasy!” I’m aware of that but I’m going to be treating it as such until people stop trying to cover up for Korekiyo. Nobody ever says that Miu is supposed to represent her abandonment issues at the end of her Love Suite. No one covers up for her, I sure as hell don’t. It sickens me how nobody takes what happens to Shuichi seriously and how even in situations where Korekiyo is clearly in the wrong, none of the sympathy goes to the person who he wronged. I’ll never understand how most of the reactions to his love suite were either “I wanna be Shuichi so bad” or feeling bad for Korekiyo somehow. Korekiyo mocking and taunting Himiko for how she’ll never forgive him also flies over people’s heads.

Dishonorable Mentions include Korekiyo’s birthday tweet this year from Kodaka:

yeah that doesn’t really help his case at all

Like I said, while I don’t mind the inc3$t plot (oh lord that sounds so weird), taking it away doesn’t make him a better person. He would still be a serial killer and he would still be manipulative, kind of misogynistic, not gaf about consent, a sadist, and just a pretty mean person in general. I honestly think that the staff should’ve let Kodaka make him even worse, I personally enjoy Korekiyo being an absolute menace to society. He’s a character who’s fun to hate because he deserves it, but also a character who’s fun to love because he’s so interesting. I apologize for writing the whole Declaration of Independence as well. Yeah but like I said I’m tired of people trying to find ways to make him more likeable. That defeats the point of his character.

am I the only one who’s sick and tired of people trying to make korekiyo redeemable, just curious

like tbh i prefer psychological horror antagonist eroguro bdsm Suehiro Maruo perverse artsy romanticist edglelord ninja sadomasochistic folklore cunt with a strict diet of human meat and psychedelics korekiyo over quirky nerdy guy that just happened to commit a few crimes but don’t worry he didn’t mean it and now he goes to therapy instead of the death penalty and hogs all the sympathy that should’ve been given to the near 100 young women that he brutally murdered and shows absolutely no remorse for korekiyo

and just a little thing to add I don’t think enough people acknowledge that korekiyo as actually kinda mean and manipulative as well

but yeah I love him as a character Im just pissed at everyone treating him like he’s innocent, and the writers didn’t do him dirty imo people are just mad that they didn’t make him sympathetic. also keep in mind this is a very abbreviated post about him. I’m currently in the process of writing an entire script for a video I’m making about him to truly get all of my thoughts about this out.

and dare I mention the fact that so many people still say “korekiyo is so overhated!!” or “he’s such an underrated character!!” as if 80% or more of the fandom is constantly glazing him. I also wanna mention AUs and fics where the serial killer part of korekiyo is just completely taken out and he reads more as misunderstood than creepy. from what I’ve seen people want a korekiyo that’s a good person, which doesn’t make any sense. he’s not 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 to be a good person. the entire point of his character is that he’s an icky disgusting genuinely creepy morally corrupt guy.

[ketzel]

i literally just got into this an hour ago

[lord-squiggletits]

I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.

I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.

The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...

Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.

I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.

And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?

It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.

To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.

In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.

Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.

So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.

What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.

Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?