#currently experiencing the Redemption emotion

[luna-azzurra]

If you want to write a character experiencing a fall in their life, consider these writing tips:

1. Establish a strong character: Introduce the character with depth, giving them unique traits, goals, and flaws. This will make their fall more impactful to the reader.

2. Develop a compelling backstory: Provide context for the character's life before the fall, showing their achievements, relationships, and aspirations. This will create a contrast with their current situation.

3. Create a turning point: Identify the catalyst or event that leads to the character's fall. This could be a mistake, a loss, a betrayal, or any significant change.

4. Show the emotional journey: Explore the character's emotions and reactions to their fall. This will help readers connect with their struggles and vulnerabilities.

5. Convey the consequences: Illustrate the consequences of the character's fall on their life and the lives of those around them. This adds depth to the story and shows the impact of their actions.

6. Allow for growth and redemption: While the character experiences a low point, leave room for growth and the possibility of redemption. This creates a sense of hope and resolution in the story.

7. Use descriptive language: Paint a vivid picture of the character's fall, using sensory details to immerse the reader in the scene.

8. Create tension and conflict: Introduce obstacles and challenges for the character to overcome during their fall. This will keep the reader engaged and invested in the story.

9. Focus on themes: Consider the themes you want to explore through the character's fall, such as resilience, forgiveness, or the consequences of one's actions.

10. Have a clear resolution: Decide how you want the character's story to conclude, whether it's a bittersweet ending or a triumphant rise from the fall.

[la-muerta]

[ENG SUB + Translation] Hou Minghao's farewell message to Zhao Yuanzhou, 16 Nov 2024

"There's always a breeze or two in the mortal world that can send me on beautiful dreams for 18,000 miles."

This trip in the mortal world is a journey that I, Zhao Yuanzhou, had to make.

A one-word spell: Dream. Now, let me tell you a story...

In the Great Wilderness, everyone knows me, and everyone sees me as the Great Demon that has committed every evil deed, deserving of death. But I made the unexpected choice to enter the fray with sworn enemies, old friends, and new acquaintances, embarking on a new path investigating cases and hunting demons together. To voluntarily sign a contract that decided my death date... most people would think that is an ill-omened beginning. But to me it was a relief, to finally be free of the prison that was of my own making...

Fate bound our demon hunting team together, and as we solved cases together, we got to know each other's true hearts. Some amongst us conquered might with gentleness, some amongst us were full of righteousness, some soft-hearted despite our tough exterior, some are lively troublemakers, some holding on to a true heart. Such a motley crew coming together and the only thing they seemed to be able to agree on was: that I wasn't to be trusted. They know me as Zhao Yuanzhou, but they can't forget all the evil I did as a Great Demon. But it didn't matter since I didn't hold much hope for myself as well, so all these other emotions didn't mean anything to me.

If you asked why I came here, I would tell you it's because I am the Great Demon Zhu Yan, forced to bear the burden of being born as a "vessel". I lost control and made an unredeemable mistake, and only death can eliminate the pain in my heart. Living is torture; Death is the gift of relief. However, I also wanted to give myself a chance at redemption, a boat rowing against the current.

Along the way, the demon hunting team encountered many complicated cases, but we worked hand in hand to solve them and the blades that we had pointed towards each other were turned towards the outside. Sworn enemies became comrades in arms, and as we took one step closer to saving the world, we also uncovered wounds that had already scarred over. As we saw each other's past wounds more clearly, we saw the past laughter that was used to hide the pain. Those who had a responsibility to protect found themselves unable to, those bearing the burdens of upholding the family's honour were just trapped in a dream, and those should have grown up with no worries found their world turned upside down overnight...

If you have a nightmare, someone might comfort you by saying don't worry, everything that happens in a dream is inverted. But what if it's a beautiful dream? Everything I'd experienced felt so real to me. As I journeyed on, I began to get lost in the dream. I started to wonder, what was I going to do if I was the one who lost everyone else in the end? I have to confess, I began to feel reluctant to part with everyone...

The lonely boat travels across the bitter seas, but friendship caused waves to rise in a heart that had died. Along the way, we mended each other bit by bit. What I have experienced is too beautiful for the other "me" to ever understand. The wish to enjoy the passing seasons and happiness of an ordinary life held great hidden strength, so that even though I already knew the ending, I did not give up the struggle. Because of all of you, I was driven not just by my thoughts of despair, but by my desire to protect all of you.

Be it the Great Wilderness or the mortal realm, everything must return to its original path. If you grieve over the fact that Zhu Yan did not get a chance to choose, then I will tell you that it was only a dream. If you are looking forward to embarking on a new journey with Zhao Yuanzhou's companions, then you have to wake up to hear the rest of the story. By the way, don't forget what I said – in the future, when it rains, that means I've come to accompany you. Turn the boat around and think of it as a big dream. On the other shore, someone is searching for me. A one-word spell: Wake.

The days I spent with Zhu Yan/Zhao Yuanzhou, confining myself to my shell and experiencing a life seeking an inevitable end, but I also felt the redemption in the countdown. For an actor, this was a very special creative process. The director's help, encouragement, and trust played a huge role in letting me experience this unique and meaningful role of Zhao Yuanzhou. He gave me a lot of room to interpret the one and only Zhao Yuanzhou, and with this support, I was able to accompany Zhao Yuanzhou through this journey, and finally entrust him to you, the audience, with peace of mind.

Also unforgettable were our companions who were with us every step of the way, and the process of everyone coming together in the creative process is very enjoyable, very satisfying, very worthwhile, and I will remember those scenes vividly. I will miss the Great Wilderness, the Demon Hunting Bureau, and the Kunlun Mountains... places where we left our joys and sorrows. Thanks to Wen Xiao, Xiao Zhuo-daren, Pei Sijing, Xiao Jiu, Ying Lei – because of our little demon hunting squad, Zhao Yuanzhou left knowing he was loved. Thank you to my ride-or-die Li Lun, we didn't forget our oath to protect the Great Wilderness. Thank you to my dear friend Zhao Wan'er, and Grandpa Yingzhao, who gave Yuanzhou the rare warmth of familial affection! Last but not least, I would like to thank all the crew behind the scenes for their hard work over the past few months. I have woken up from the dream, but my heart will always remember.

Signed, Zhu Yan/Zhao Yuanzhou, with remorse but no regrets

[blueberrypancakesworld]

hii a little bit ago I ask if you could write loc dead x fem reader who self harms and I loved the one you wrote but could you please write another one 💕

I will hold you

warning : hurt/comfort, self-harm, emotional, kissing, no use fo Y/n

Info : Yeah I remember your request hope you like this one and have fun reading even if it's a little short but regardless have fun reading ;)

masterlist

Disclaimer : I don't want to glorify anything it's about the actors who play a role, not the real events.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain. Pain is something that everyone feels at some point, whether it's when you hurt yourself cutting fruit, when you get a stomach ache from laughing or when you're just sad.

But there have also been days, weeks, months, years and decades when you can't get rid of pain. Something that gets stuck in you and hurts you with every passing day.

He knew it, the blond singer of the band knew this feeling, he experienced it every day and could only soften it slightly through the music with his heart by his side. But exactly this pain had captured him and his girlfriend, the one he loved, who was like the light at the end of the tunnel. But even this light can grow dimmer from time to time.

A light that is permeated by pain, a light that has been destroyed by fire, by ice, by metal and by his own body. He had tried it himself and had gone into this spiral abyss, but he had overcome it for a few days at a time and had now somewhat accepted it and survived.

But it was always painful for him when he caught his heart interrupting him and he went home to the room in the house they all shared. He didn't feel the smell of fire after a fire, it was different.

,,Darling! I'm back!" he called into the house, hearing something fall to the floor before he ran upstairs to her, the door to the room was torn open without a lock before he saw that she had thrown the lighter to the floor, the knife lying next to her, but the look of fear, rejection, pain he saw on her face was the most painful thing he had ever seen. That look he knew was a cry for help, a scream that only gave surface to her pain.

A pain they both knew, something they shared and yet hid prematurely. Sometimes, however, they bumped into each other and saw what was going on inside the other.

But the fire they both had not seen for a long time. ,,Wait, darling, just wait a moment," he said hastily, running out of the room and into the bathroom where he grabbed the first-aid kit, which was still more than half full, but it would do.

The crying he heard from her was sad and lonely in her current state. Something that bothered him she shouldn't suffer and yet this was easier said than done as he knew it was painful.

They both knew that this life was painful but life should never be like this. ,,Here I am," he said and knelt down in front of her, wordlessly yet gently taking her arm, the burns and cuts not too deep but the pain of this brief redemption was something she had felt without seeing the end.

,,I'm sorry," she murmured, tears flowing down her cheeks and hiding behind her hand as her friend touched her. She tried to soothe a little while he disinfected the wounds and cleaned the burn cream they had bought just for this.

,,It's not okay, I'm here…it could have been worse but my heart I'm here okay it's going to be okay" he talked to her as he sealed the bandages around her wounds with tape and pulled her into his arms.

Her sniffling mumbles of apology only caused him to hold her tighter. Just stay with me for today, we'll get through this," he reassured her, kissing her head softly, listening to her crying gradually become less and less.

Maybe she even had hope that she could now see the light at the end of the tunnel and not the other way around. He was her light in times when she knew how hard it was. But in the end they would make it, they had always made it somehow and they were making it today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[jovialmoonprincess]

AU: Journey to Redemption (Part 3)

First Part. / The Winter Ball / Champagne Problems

Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader 

Summary: Y/N, a young idealist in Panem, dreams of making a difference in a post-war society. As the winner of the prestigious Plinth Prize is about to be announced, a mysterious woman unveils a grim fate for Coriolanus Snow, Y/N's nemesis. Offered a chance to alter destiny, Y/N must navigate her conflicting emotions and intervene in pivotal moments to prevent Snow's descent into darkness. The story unfolds against the backdrop of complex relationships, past connections, and the challenges of a changing world, as Y/N grapples with the responsibility of shaping an unexpected destiny and challenging the very fabric of fate.

Warning(s): None, enemy to lovers, back in time, destiny, Snow being in love, Snow being Snow, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

A/N: First Fic EVER, dont be mean pls. Also Im not a english native speaker, sorry for any spelling errors. Feedback is appreciated! Follow or like (or both) for part 4!

The last dance before the Plinth Award engulfed Y/N in a whirlwind of emotions that transported her to a distant past. She didn't expect to see Coryo at the party, as he had become a dedicated student and rarely attended social events. Nonetheless, she decided to seize the opportunity to approach him before the games, especially after glimpsing Snow's future in the hands of the mysterious woman.

Her gaze found Coryo on the other side of the room, and her heart raced. He looked different from the last time she saw him, unhinged while shooting birds in the forest. Y/N knew that if there was a chance to change the grim fate she foresaw, she would do everything in her power to save the boy. With determination, she headed towards him. Her dress, not as dazzling as four years ago, was a simple one, reflecting her current situation. Y/N no longer wanted to blend in with those people; she wanted to stand out. Her dress lacked sparkle, a simple white dress with loose sleeves. As she approached, she focused intensely on Coryo. "Y/N?" The sweetness of the sound of her name contrasted with the not-so-friendly expression in his eyes. He seemed surprised and perhaps confused by her presence.

"I thought you didn't like social situations," Y/N teased, initiating the typical banter between the two.

"I could say the same about you," Coryo retorted, displaying the familiar banter between them.

"Coryo, I wanted to wish you luck at the Plinth Award. I know how hard you fight for it." Y/N curtsied with her dress, trying to show sincerity. However, suspicion lingered in Coryo's eyes. The past few years had been marked by fights and tense interactions between the two.

It was at this moment that Clemensia Dovecote appeared next to Snow, intertwining her arm with his. An inconvenient presence that added more tension to the encounter.

"What are you doing here? Trying to win a crumb from your future president?"

"Clemensia, I don't remember addressing you," Y/N cut in, trying to maintain composure.

"Do you really think you look good today?" Clemensia mocked, laughing ironically. "You may have money, but wow, you need a stylist." Y/N, experienced in dealing with unpleasant criticisms, laughed, making it clear that such comments did not affect her.

"It seems like you're practicing to be a fashion critic now, Clemensia."

"Clemensia," Coriolanus was trying to prevent what would happen next.

"I'm just surprised that someone like you is trying to stand out. Usually, you're so... invisible," Clemensia continued, her voice dripping with superiority.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "Well, it's good to change things up once in a while. And as for you, Clemensia, what brought you to the ball? Isn't it more fun spending your parents' money on ugly bags?" The provocation hit Clemensia, but she kept her composure. 

"Just enjoying what life in the Capital has to offer. Unlike some around here who seem not to fit into such luxury." Clemensia's words were sharp, and Y/N knew she was just trying to undermine her confidence. However, she wouldn't let it shake her. 

"Ah, I understand. Sometimes it's hard for some people to grasp that there's more to life than just appearances and superficialities."

Clemensia cast a disdainful look at Y/N before shrugging. "Each to their own, right? Good luck trying to get Coriolanus's attention." With that, the girl "accidentally" bumped into a waiter serving someone nearby. Three glasses of champagne landed on the white dress, leaving Y/N with a mix of feelings, from anger to the determination not to be shaken by empty provocations.

The brief interlude with Clemensia was not what Y/N expected for the night; now she was unsettled, wet, and smelling of alcohol.

It was then that Sejanus Plinth approached, interrupting the tense moment. Her plan to approach Snow that night was thwarted, but Sejanus's friendly presence brought unexpected relief.

"Y/N, you look beautiful," Sejanus complimented with a gentle smile and a small handkerchief that would at least help reduce the dress's dampness. She returned the smile, grateful for the friendly gesture.

"Dance with me?" Sejanus invited. Y/N silently agreed, accepting the offer, defeated. The awkward moment with Clemensia and the initial frustration were temporarily forgotten as she engaged in a relaxed dance among friends. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"It's impossible for you to be okay after what happened," Sejanus directed a compassionate look. "Who needs fashion designers when you can have an accidental stylist like Clemensia?" Y/N laughed. The echo, however, reverberated in Snow's thoughts, casting shadows over what once seemed like a complication-free night. The ball now became a complex piece of an enigma that only time would unravel.

"I don't want to ruin your outfit; it looks expensive." The girl sighed, trying to keep her distance.

"Yours does too, and Clemensia didn't think twice before trying to destroy it," Sejanus brought her closer during the dance. Y/N smiled; the altruism in the boy was evident. Even with a lot of money, he always tried to be fair and helpful to everyone around him.

While they danced, the shared glances and conspiratorial smiles between Sejanus and Y/N did not go unnoticed. Snow, watching from afar, felt an uncomfortable knot forming in his stomach. The sight of Y/N in Sejanus's arms, laughing freely, triggered a strange and unsettling sensation. In the midst of the dance, Sejanus guided Y/N with graceful skill. The lightness of the moment contrasted with the complexity of emotions unfolding in Snow's mind. He wondered if the smile Y/N shared with Sejanus was different from the one she offered him.

As the music came to an end, Sejanus and Y/N exchanged a thankful glance and bid farewell with a polite gesture. Snow, observing the friendly closeness between the two, felt a twinge of uncertainty and discomfort. 

Y/N returned to the secluded spot, and Sejanus stepped away to greet other guests. Snow, determined to overcome the uncomfortable feeling enveloping him, approached Y/N with a forced attempt at indifference.

"Apparently, you found an excellent dance partner," he commented, his eyes concealing a tension he himself tried to understand. Y/N looked at him, a playful smile playing on her lips.         

"Sejanus is a great friend. You should try dancing with him." Far from calming Snow, the response only heightened his uncertainty. The remainder of the night passed with a tense atmosphere between them, and while Y/N and Sejanus shared moments of friendship, Snow pondered the complexities of his own emotions and what the future held for him and for the girl who, even while dancing with another, remained at the center of his thoughts.

After the dance and greeting everyone, Y/N decided to leave the ballroom. She sat on a bench outside, taking off her tight shoes. She realized it was the same garden as four years ago, where her lips and Snow's touched for the first time.

"Thanks for what you said about the Plinth Award." Once again, Snow startled the girl.

"You're welcome."

"I'm sorry about the dress; it'll probably stain."

"Since when do you know about laundry?" Y/N teased.

"Tigris made me learn the hard way," Snow laughed.

"What Clemensia did wasn't cool; I'm sorry." The boy seemed sincere. A white rose on his chest drew attention in his black suit. "You look beautiful." Y/N was angry with him. Looking at him like this and knowing what would come next was driving her crazy. Coryo seemed lost; maybe there was no salvation for him despite everything.

"I know your trick," she teased, laughing. She knew, above all, that Coryo used his charm to persuade everyone. And he did it very well. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Snow didn't understand where the girl was going.

"You're impossible to decipher, as if you don't want people to know what you really feel."

"Showing emotions is a sign of weakness." It was one of the things Coryo's father always said, and they repeated it to him as a child. "Feeling is a weakness. I don't allow myself to feel anything other than the feelings that keep me going." His gaze seemed somewhat dark.

Y/N looked at the starry mantle above them.

"Showing emotions makes you human, Coryo," Y/N said. "Humanity means understanding your own feelings. We need to cherish

the good emotions and keep the people who make us feel good close by, you know?" It was as if she wanted the boy to be shaped by her words. She knew it wouldn't be that easy. But it would be a good start.

"Do you have any dreams? Something you would like to make come true?"

"I'm not sure. I wish I could give a better life to the Snows. Clean our name, return to the prestige we had before the destruction of District 13. I also want to give a better future to Tigris and our Grandmother." At this point, the boy was already by her side, leaning on the railing that separated the area they were in from the small artificial stream below. "I also wish I could choose what and how much I eat." Coryo was sincere; Y/N could tell. The poverty of the Snows was not evident, Coryo disguised it well. But Tigris complained to the girl years before about how the Snow family was becoming increasingly impoverished. Whenever Y/N went to her friend's house, she brought something to eat as a silent gesture of sympathy, but she knew that she would make her friend very grateful. She couldn't and didn't want to seem sorry or supporting the friend's family. Because people would notice, and it would generate more problems than solutions. Y/N didn't know her own family's reaction either.

"It's a lot for someone who claims not to feel," Y/N teased, her eyes reflecting a playful challenge.

Coryo's lips curved into an ironic smile. "Maybe I just need the right inspiration."

Y/N laughed, feeling a surprisingly lightness in their conversation. "Inspiration, huh? If you had the chance to shape the future, how would it be?"

He stared at the starry sky, pondering her question. "Power is the answer, control over everything. But maybe... maybe a Panem where people don't have to fight for survival, where the Capitol doesn't dictate our lives." Y/N wondered if he was talking about his own survival or about the districts.

Y/N's eyes softened, witnessing a glimpse of vulnerability beneath Coryo's facade. "That sounds like a dream worth pursuing."

"And you? In this ideal Panem, what would be your role?" He asked curiously.

"I would be a storyteller," Y/N replied, laughing. "I would weave narratives of hope, resilience, and... love. I would show the world that compassion can be our greatest strength."

A genuine smile lit up Coryo's face, and for that brief moment, the differences between them dissipated. The distant music from the ballroom served as a backdrop for their conversation, a symphony accompanying the unspoken connection.

"You would do well in that role. Even though I think it would be a waste of potential since you're the SECOND-best student at the Academy," Coryo admitted, with a playful tone.

The white rose on his lapel seemed to capture the moonlight, its petals reflecting the vulnerability in his eyes. The tension that once filled the air now transformed into a shared understanding.

They were very close to each other; Y/N could smell the boy's perfume. She noticed every detail of his face to try to capture that moment in her memory. Her fingers stretched out and reached for the rose on his lapel. She detached it easily.

"Which one of us is going to steal some sweets for us to eat while we talk?"

"Do you have pockets in your dress?" The boy teased, enjoying the moment, as she placed the stolen rose on the strap of her white dress.

"No, exactly because of that, it will have to be you."

Coryo laughed as he nodded. Without saying anything else, he turned his back to the girl and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor.

Alone, Y/N wondered if the boy would come back. She was sure it was a perfect opening for him to return to the ball. She looked at the small fish swimming fast in the artificial stream below the railing. Even they were trapped. Even their freedom was controlled by the Capitol.

"Y/N."

"Coryo."

"Do you still like chocolate?" The boy asked, taking a plastic package with something like a small tart from his pocket.

"They make these especially for stealing, how can that be?" The girl amused herself while opening the small package.

As the night unfolded, the two found themselves immersed in a conversation that transcended the limitations of their tumultuous history. The garden, witness to their first kiss and now witness to their shared dreams, became a sanctuary of possibilities. And in the midst of the starry serenity, a connection, delicate but profound, began to blossom, challenging preconceived notions of their roles in a world on the brink of change. The night continued, filled with moments that defied expectations and revealed the complexity of their feelings. Y/N and Coryo's story was far from over, but in that moment, they chose to enjoy the dance under the stars, building together a new chapter of hope and possibility in a world about to change.

______________________________

Just wanted to drop a quick note to say a massive thank you for all the love, likes, comments, and follows on my story. <3

Taglist: @shari-berri @h-l-vlovesvintage @tea-bobba @daenerysqueenofhearts

Again: REQUESTS and TAGLIST ARE OPEN!!!!!

[navybrat817]

𝑬𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅

✧˚ · . a collaboration between @navybrat817 and @sgt-seabass

Stay reformed. Erase this perfect world. Hate left below. The dark stray dog of war. (x)

Pairing — Bucky Barnes x Reader W/C — Almost 5k This is a dark fic. 18+ only. Listening to - Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea Previous part - A Tide of War and Broken Dreams

Warnings — angst, kidnapping, aftermath of attack, injuries, threat of violence against reader, Hydra exists, Bucky whump A/N — Welcome to the next part of our Vengeance AU! Quick reminder that this is a dark fic and things are going to be extremely rough for our reader (and Bucky) in the upcoming parts. Please heed the warnings and we hope you enjoy the ride!

Coming home to you was the thing Bucky looked forward to the most after a mission. Whether you were wide awake to greet him with a smile or curled up in bed sound asleep, the sight of you was like coming home every time. The love of his life, you taught him to believe in dreams again when he lived in a nightmare for so long. While he was darkness and pain, you were light and warmth and hope. You were part of his redemption, his dream he had long forgotten come true.

In hindsight, he should've thanked you more for loving him.

Even as his shoulders sagged from exhaustion, he smiled to himself as he took his keys from his pocket. You drew interlocking hearts with a red marker on the apartment key after his last mission. It was a reminder that the two of you had a home made with love. And that he had someone to come back to.

In hindsight, he should've shown more appreciation for the small things you did for him.

When Bucky got to the door, he wondered if you were awake or asleep since it was still early. Would you wake up if he joined you in bed? He hoped you got enough rest without him, remembering how you tried to get him to stay home. You seemed more nervous than normal for him to leave and it wasn't easy for him to shake, but you were safe there. And once he kicked his boots off and greeted Alpine, he'd wrap himself up in you as he put the mission behind him. He refused to let his work, or past, taint the beautiful space you created together.

In hindsight, he should've listened when you asked him to stay.

Darkness greeted him as he undid the multiple locks and pushed the door open, his senses on high alert when he noticed objects strewn along the floor in the dark. Alpine knocked things over when she had her zoomies, but this was something different. The aura of the room was heavy, and when Bucky stepped inside he could feel the air thicken suffocatingly. He reached for his gun as he listened for any sign of someone in the apartment. When he didn't hear any voices, or heartbeats, he turned on the light switch. He nearly got sick when the smell drifted to his nostrils.

Blood.

It was quickly becoming apparent that something was very, very wrong. Bucky’s heart spiked in a flurry, and while he wanted to freak out, his tactical survival mindset switched on, his emotions temporarily waning. The former assassin and current sergeant trembled as he stepped forward, careful not to track his footsteps through the blood in the hall. If this was a crime scene… He pushed the thought away as he glanced down at a photo of the two of you, the red fluid staining the beautiful memory and drowning out the happiness.

He experienced hell, but it still didn't prepare him for the sight of your living room as he kept his gun trained. Everything from the table to your hard work lay in scattered pieces. The sight of destruction made his stomach turn. It was as if someone wanted to ruin the care put into this place. Even the air was colder, shadows taking over the normally bright space.

It was pure destruction.

Why didn't he get an alert of a break-in? His security wasn't as good as Stark's system, but he should've received something. He knew the signs of a robbery, but this was something else entirely. Whoever did this knew what they were doing and he feared what that meant for you.

"What is that?" he muttered, stepping over broken dishes as he saw something written in blood.

BLONDE

His brilliant and amazing other half tried to leave him a clue.

All his training and thought went out the window as he spotted the knife normally hidden under the couch soaked with blood feet away, screaming your name as he frantically searched for you. He choked on a sob as glass crunched under the boots, the bathroom in the same disarray as the rest of the apartment. The bloody footprints led away from the room. Was this where it started?

You put up a fight, didn't you, doll?

Fury surged through him at the thought of someone hurting and scaring you, for daring to put their hands on you. You weren't trained to fight and you didn't deal with pain well, but you had spirit. You had heart. But he wasn't here to defend you.

In hindsight, he should've been there to protect you.

"Meow."

Bucky pointed his gun at the ground as he spun around, a tear sliding down his cheek when he saw Alpine's normally white fur darkened red. He holstered his weapon before he crouched down to check her. Physically, she was fine, but he knew she was shaken up. So was he. "Hey. I've got you," he whispered, trying to soothe her and himself when she nuzzled his chest.

Keeping her close, he finally made his way to the bedroom. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine you were there, stretched out and smiling as you welcomed him home. He could join you, hold you, and know he was home. But all he saw was an empty bed.

You were gone.

In hindsight, he never should've gone on that mission.

"Who did this, Al? Where is she?" he asked, wishing his cat could tell him what happened. You were kind to everyone. You had no enemies. Everyone loved you.

I love you so much, doll.

Trying one last thing, he got his phone out to call you and hoped by some miracle you'd answer.

You didn't.

"Hi! You've reached the voicemail of…"

Hearing your cheerful voicemail unleashed his tears as he hung up and collapsed on the bed. The scent of your perfume lingered on the sheets as Alpine curled up in his lap and for a moment it was as if you were there to assure him you were hanging on. To not give up on you.

Never. I'd fight for you 'til my last breath.

It took him a moment to dial Steve's number, trying his best to keep it together as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. This was his fault. It had to be. He could blame himself later. For now, he had to find you. He had to bring you home. And he tear apart the blonde monster who dared to lay a hand on you.

"Hey, Bucky. What's going on?" Steve asked as he answered.

There was a beat of silence before Bucky let out a choked sob. He placed his hand over his mouth for a moment, whimpers slipping past his fingers before he got the words out.

"She's gone," he whispered, a tear falling on Alpine's head.

"What?"

"She's gone," he repeated as he cried, the sound drowning out Steve's voice. The last time he broke down like this was in Wakanda, the day he was free of Hydra's hold over him. That was the beginning of a new dawn, like when you entered his life.

But today was the beginning of a brand new nightmare.

Wherever you are, please, hold on.

Pain, by definition, is an unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage, or described in terms of such damage. What you felt as you tried to open your eyes went beyond unpleasant, the physical anguish drawing a groan from you began to sit up. Your body screamed at your mind to lay back down as your vision slowly adjusted to the light, immediately recognizing that you weren’t in your home by the look of the dirty ceiling.

Where am I?

The last thing you remembered were the three strangers, your attackers, standing over your weakened body. You had no clue what shape you were in, but it couldn’t be great judging by the ache you felt just from waking up. You didn't know what you had done to receive their wrath, but they miraculously listened to your plea and didn't kill you. For a moment, you thought the men were going to leave your lifeless body for Bucky to find.

Bucky.

The physical pain shifted to your heart as you imagined him getting back to the apartment only to find it in ruin. You didn’t know when he would return from his mission or how long you were unconscious, but you had to get back to him. He needed to know you survived and he sure as hell wouldn’t just lay there if he were in your shoes. You had to be strong for him, even if you felt weak.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly began to push yourself up. The left side of your body protested, but you managed to get in a sitting position after a few seconds. Glancing down, you pulled the flimsy sheet away and expected to see random splotches of dried blood on your naked body. You found none because someone took the liberty of cleaning you and putting an oversized shirt on you.

Who did that?

The only relief you felt was there was no soreness between your legs. They kept your dignity intact and didn't taint that part of your soul. You would take the pain over that.

You gingerly touched your left shoulder, wincing as you felt the wrapping under the fabric. The brunette stabbed you, the flash of the memory in your mind making your stomach lurch. But was he the one who patched up your wound? There were bandages around your feet, too. Who removed the shards of glass? Or were they cruel enough to leave them there?

You fought the urge not to cry when you noticed the cuff around your left ankle attached to a chain. Sniffling, you slowly swung your legs to the side of the bed, the clinking sound momentarily distracting you from the ache as you set your feet on the ground. The musky smell of the filthy room filled your nostrils as you looked around. It reminded you of a basement, but worse. The average size room had no windows. A lone light in the ceiling. A toilet. A sink. And a bucket beside the bed.

The one someone chained you to.

Like a prisoner.

You braced your hands on your knees to keep your breathing even, but it didn’t stop your stomach from lurching again at the reality and stress of your situation. Combined with the ache of your body and the smell on your cell, you managed to grab the bucket just in time before you wretched. You hated throwing up, almost as much as you hated being in pain. You could never put your finger on why you couldn't handle it well. Maybe it was because you had little experience in dealing with it in comparison to someone like Bucky.

"Ouch!" you hissed, shoving the paper away on your desk. "Damn."

"You okay?" Bucky called from the kitchen, his footsteps already heading toward you.

"Paper cut," you pouted, showing him. His look of concern made your heart swell. "Will you kiss it better?

"Poor thing," he said, his tone sympathetic and not chastising as he helped you up. "I'll kiss it once I put a bandaid on it."

"Why do they hurt so much?" you asked as he led you to the bathroom, feeling silly for saying that. It was just a paper cut.

"Because paper is actually jagged and acts more like a saw than a knife blade," Bucky explained, giving your finger a kiss once he cleaned and wrapped a bandage around it. "And there are a lot of pain receptors in your fingers. Cutting through those nerve endings hurts."

"You're so smart," you smiled, your finger tingling as he gave it one more kiss. "I'm just a baby."

"You're not a baby. You're allowed to feel what you feel," he assured you, pressing his lips against yours. "Just be glad it wasn't your foot."

"How would someone get a paper cut on their foot?" you giggled when he smiled.

"It could happen. And if it does, I'll kiss it better."

“I’m okay,” you whispered again after you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

A tear rolled down your cheek as you stood up and you couldn’t stop the whimper as you took a step forward. While you didn’t think they left any glass in your feet, it sure as hell hurt to put your weight on them. Your legs shook as you moved toward the sink, which was far from the door. It was slow going, but you put one foot in front of the other. You longed to feel Alpine rub her fur against your leg as you rinsed your mouth out with surprisingly clean water.

At least those bastards didn’t hurt her. Or did they?

You didn’t make a mad dash for the door, not wanting to do more damage to yourself, but you tried to move a little faster. Each step was more painful than the last and you nearly collapsed when the chain couldn’t give any further. You whined as you tried to stretch and touch the door. Of course, you couldn’t reach it, but you were so close.

Yet so far away.

"Come on," you whispered, unable to hold back a sob when you yanked on the chain.

For some reason, maybe it was fear or thinking no one would help, you didn’t scream. It wouldn’t do you any good when you didn’t have much energy to spare. You tried to think of what Bucky or any of the other Avengers would do in this situation as you wiped the tears away. Not like they’d let something like this happen to them. No, you couldn’t think like that. This wasn’t your fault.

The only ones to blame were the ones who took you.

You didn't get a chance to feel along the walls or look around any further when you heard three sharp bangs on the door. Stumbling backwards, you winced as you fell against the mattress and watched the door swing open. You couldn't stop your heart from pounding at the sight of the three men casually entering the room. The ones who ruined your home.

And took you from Bucky.

Your attackers stared you down as you cowered on the bed. They no longer wore the hoodies with the green symbols, each of them clad in black t-shirts and tactical pants. The brunette crossed his arms and looked all too pleased at your present state. The dirty blonde glanced around the room with a sneer, like he was too good to be inside of a dirty cell. The blonde who attacked you first showed no emotion as you hugged your knees to your chest.

Up close, and from your sitting position, the men were large and intimidating in stature. The room felt smaller from the space they took up, threatening to suffocate you. They easily tossed you around your home and you didn't want to imagine the damage they would do to you here. You were a doe in a den of wolves.

Would you manage to get out of the woods?

“About time you woke up, toy,” the brunette said, checking the chain to make sure it was still secure. "I was about three seconds away from dumping water on you."

“She looks like shit,” the dirty blonde commented with a small chuckle.

Heat filled your cheeks. You hadn't looked in a mirror, but of course, you looked awful. Felt like it, too. What did they expect when they nearly beat you to death?

"I guess we didn’t get to properly introduce ourselves, did we? I’m Maddox. That’s Damien. And that’s Kage. We already know who you are, but your name doesn’t really matter.”

You remembered them referencing each other as they attacked you, but you didn’t recognize them from anywhere. Bucky never mentioned them. They were distinct enough to stand out if he had.

Kage didn't acknowledge how you stiffened as he got close to you. Gently pulling on the sleeve of the shirt, he checked your shoulder and glided a warm hand down the other side of your body. Was he going to hurt you again? What about the others? You didn’t see any obvious weapons on them, but that didn’t mean anything. They were strong enough to beat you if you tried to fight. The thought had you hugging yourself tighter when you felt the blonde's breath on your neck.

“Told you the little bitch would puke,” Maddox said, nodding toward the bucket when Kage finally pulled away. You woke up chained to a bed in an unfamiliar place. How were you supposed to react? "You’re not much of a conversationalist,” he added, making you move back against the wall as he stepped closer this time.

There were plenty of things you wanted to say, but you kept your mouth shut.

"You’re really not going to say anything? That’s rude,” Damien said, nudging Kage with his elbow. “Why isn’t she talking?”

“Ask her,” the blonde replied.

“Why aren’t you talking to us?” Damien asked, crouching down and patting your cheek harder than necessary. You didn't want any of them touching you. “We know you’re not deaf, so speak.”

You didn't know much about him, but his tone came across as entitled. Like he expected people to jump at his word. "I’m scared," you admitted.

“You should be,” Maddox mocked, pulling Damien back a little. "But I don’t see what being scared has to do with you not talking. You were pretty mouthy with your whole ‘I’m still winning’ bullshit.”

"I’m scared because you almost killed me," you told them, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. Had they really forgotten that or did they not care?

"But we didn't. We let you live,” Damien said, like you should’ve thanked him for allowing you to still breathe. “Your vocal chords still work. Use them."

"I don’t want to," you whispered. All you wanted to do was go home and let Bucky know you were okay. “I don’t want to talk to any of you.”

The humor left Maddox’s face at your answer. "You say that like we give a shit about what you want. Talk, or we'll cut your tongue out if you refuse to use it."

Fear spiked at the threat, knowing it wasn't an empty one. The man stabbed you in the shoulder simply because you tried to fight back. "Okay, I will," you promised, though you weren’t sure what they wanted you to say. "Thank you for patching me up."

Even though they were the ones who inflicted the wounds, they could've easily let infection set in or not tend to them at all. Your statement didn't get much of a reaction from them though, minus the slight look of surprise on Damien's face. "You should be thankful. Put this roof over your head, too."

"Thanks," you said again. At least you had a bed. "Where are we?"

He burst out laughing. What was so funny? "We're in a room. And here we thought you were smart being a graphic designer and all."

"How did you know that?" you asked when his laughter died down. Did they discover that when they wrecked your place or did they do their research on you?

"Dami's great with computers and systems," Maddox smirked, clapping him proudly on the shoulder. The younger man preened at the compliment. "Your security system's lacking, but the camera loves you."

These monsters hacked your apartment cameras? Invaded your privacy? It was a violation that neither of you deserved. It was how they likely knew Bucky wouldn't be home to help you. "Why were you watching my place?"

"We have our reasons," Kage replied, not expanding on the topic.

Maybe, by some miracle, the cameras picked up on what happened to you. As much as you didn't want Bucky to witness your attack and kidnapping, it could give him clues to your whereabouts since you were only able to write one word in blood. "Are you going to let me go?”

"Kage, I think that hit to the head did more damage than we thought," Damien joked.

"Let's clarify for that baby brain of yours: We're not letting you go, so don't fucking ask,” Maddox stated.

Your heart sank the longer you sat there. "Is it money that you want?" you asked. Had they demanded a ransom from Bucky or anyone else for your release?

"Oh, please," Maddox rolled his eyes, as if you asked a stupid question. "Didn’t we already tell you this isn’t about money? Damien has more than he knows what to do with."

“Then what is it about? I haven’t done anything to you. To any of you,” you pleaded, wishing you were stronger. But was it weak to beg? To want to go free? “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

"How self centered to think this is about you."

"I-I'm not self centered,” you gently argued. You weren’t a perfect person, but you had a good heart and wouldn’t hurt anyone for the world. “I'm just trying to understand."

"Aww. Of course, you are. Because that's the kind of person you are, aren't you?” The brunette grabbed your chin with an iron grip, squeezing hard enough to make you whimper before he let you go. “So kind and understanding and willing to look past flaws? Living in your happy little bubble where nothing can touch you?"

Maybe, in some ways, you did live in a rose colored world. Your life was a happy one overall. Bucky shielded you from some of the things he did and the horrors he went through. Was it a means to keep you safe or to keep you blissfully unaware of the darkness of the world?

“Why did you attack me? You mentioned Bucky-”

You shrieked when Maddox kicked the bucket against the wall, his fingers flexing like he wanted to hit something. Damien had a similar look of fury on his face. Kage was the only one who didn’t physically react, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t upset. “Don’t say his fucking name,” he spoke above a whisper, something dangerous in his voice making you shudder.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not wanting to anger them any further. Bucky worked hard to make amends for the actions he was forced to carry out, at least the ones you knew about. What was the history with these men? The green octopus on their hoodies briefly flashed in your mind. "If you won't let me go and you don't want money, why bring me here? Why didn't you kill me?"

"Because it isn't your time to die yet,” Damien shrugged.

It was both comforting and fearful that they didn't kill you. By bringing you here, they had some sort of plan. Besides violence, what else were they capable of and what would they do to you in the process?

"Death is a privilege earned through pain. And you need a hell of a lot more before you get there," Maddox chastised as you put on what you hoped was a brave face. Were they going to try and break you? No, you wouldn't let them. "Plus, you’re Damien’s first girlfriend, so we can’t get rid of you just yet."

"Shut the fuck up," he snapped, his cheeks red as he glanced at his friend. "I’ve had plenty of girlfriends."

You wondered if he chained them up in dirty rooms like this, but chose not to ask.

"What, in high school?" Maddox chuckled.

"Fuck off. I’m not a teenager!"

As the two of them bickered, Kage continued to stare at you with an unreadable expression on his face. And his eyes? They took on an unnatural shade of blue that sent another shiver down your spine before you blinked, the irises going back to normal. Maybe the light in the cell was playing tricks on you.

His eyes lingered on you still as he addressed the others. "That's enough. Go over the rules."

Damien huffed, but conceded. Kage's words seemed to hold weight for him. "Since we're kind enough to let you stay here until we decide to get rid of you, you’ll do what we tell you."

Meaning, until they decided to kill you. Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you nodded. Maybe if you behaved, you could bide your time and find a way out of this. Or at least hold on until Bucky found you. “What are the rules?”

“So glad you asked,” Maddox smiled. “First rule. You’ll eat three meals a day, whatever we give you, without complaint. You don’t eat it, we’ll shove a fucking tube down your throat. Is that understood?”

You nodded again. You’d eat so you could keep up your strength. It was also better than starving.

“A nod isn’t a good enough answer. Say, ‘yes, Maddox',” he said slowly.

The urge to snap was quickly smothered by fear and uncertainty. “Yes, Maddox.”

“That’s a good girl,” he said, a darkness in his eyes that made your skin crawl. “Next rule. You’ll brush your teeth after each meal, but you’re not allowed to keep your toothbrush. Don’t want you trying to use it as a weapon.”

“Why do you want me to brush my teeth?” you couldn’t help but ask. They harmed you and kept chained you in a cell, but cared about your hygiene?

“Because we don’t want your teeth to rot," Damien answered, a wide smile on his face. "If you lose them, it'll be because we knocked them out or pulled them out.”

You refused to throw up in front of them, but you were pretty close as your stomach lurched. These men were sick, but they wouldn't have those smiles on their faces once Bucky got his hands on them. "Brush my teeth after each meal and give the toothbrush back when I'm done."

"Like a fucking parrot. So proud," Maddox muttered, holding up three fingers as you hung your head. Did they have to be so rude? "Rule three. Don't lay in bed all day, Get up, walk around, stretch. Just because you aren’t allowed to leave this room doesn’t mean you can be lazy while we work.”

You wished you were working. You longed to be at your computer, bringing your visions to life. Maybe you could piece together the damage they had done once you were free and pick up where you left off.

"I'll walk around," you said, wondering how long your feet would take to heal.

“And rule four. You don’t give us the silent treatment," Damien said, narrowing his eyes. "If we ask you a question or initiate a conversation, you're expected to answer. You don't get to ignore us after we let you live."

Did they think you owed them something for not killing you? That it was a privilege for you to live? "I'll talk," you said, only if you had to. "What happens if I break a rule?"

"We'll punish you," Maddox smirked, his dark eyes sparkling with excitement as you shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Please, break a rule."

"We'll go over punishments later," Kage said, checking the time on his watch. "We need to feed her. Let's go."

You got unsteadily to your feet as they moved toward the door, attempting one last plea. "Please, let me go," you begged, immediately regretting your words when three pairs of eyes glared in your direction. You couldn't take it back, but you couldn’t stop either. “Bu- My boyfriend will come looking for me if you don’t. He'll get me out of here.”

All you wanted to do was go home.

“We’re counting on him to look for you,” Damien smiled.

“One last rule for now,” Kage added as Maddox walked toward you with a scowl. “Don’t say his name or ever ask to go back to him.”

Before you could back away, the brunette deliberately stepped on your foot. If that wasn't bad enough, he pushed a finger against your stitched shoulder. A wounded sound left your mouth as searing pain shot up and down your arm and leg. You were barely able to make out his face as black spots danced in front of your eyes.

"Order comes through pain," he said, pressing his boot in more as you sucked in a breath. He released your foot seconds later and harshly shoved you to the bed as your chest heaved. "You better get used to it."

"Kage just changed her bandages before she woke up," Damian snapped when you gripped your shoulder, your body still shaking a little.

"Oh, boohoo. She can lick up any of the blood she spills. She'll need the hydration," Maddox said before the cell door slammed shut, their footsteps fading into nothing.

Reaching for Bucky's dog tags around your neck for comfort, something to remind you that you weren't alone, you remembered they were gone. They took them from you. The floodgates opened, soaking the sheet with your tears. Your captors terrified you and you couldn't figure out their angle. They had an issue with Bucky, but hadn't asked any questions about him or the Avengers. They hadn't tortured you for any kind of information. What could you as a civilian tell them anyway?

What did they want?

I'll hold on, Bucky. I'll try and be strong for you.

Your boyfriend would find you. He wouldn't give up until he did. But it didn't stop you from crying in your cold cell. And it didn't stop the blinking red light in the corner capturing it all, documenting the next chapter of your nightmare.

Our poor reader. More to come soon. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Here For You

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

rating: M (period talk!, reader has PCOS, painful menstruation, talks of bodily fluids [blood, vomit], brief mentions of alcohol consumption, nonsexual nudity, one mention of a future blowjob, frankie carrying the redemption of the entire male species on his back)

word count: 1.7k

a/n: another self-indulgent piece because i am currently dying from my PCOS cramps. just a disclaimer: this is based on my personal level of pain and symptoms. everyone menstruates differently. this one is for my fellow PCOS girlies—hang in there babes!

frankie masterlist | frankie playlist

It was a typical Friday night, Frankie off at one of Benny’s fights per usual while you were supposed to have been going out with your friends for drinks, but thanks to a particularly rough second day of your period, that was cancelled. Instead, you laid in your bed writhing in pain, your PCOS deciding to make itself extra known this month by bringing on the most unbearable cramps you’d experienced in months.

Clutching your heating pad to your lower stomach, you reached for your phone on your nightstand at it buzzed. With a wince and a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, you breathed through the contraction-like cramp until you could focus on the message displayed on your screen.

[9:04 PM] Lover: Hey, sugar. Just got to the fight.

[9:05 PM] Lover: Santi’s being particularly determined tonight. You can blame him if I’m drunk when I come home.

You wanted to smile at the thought of a drunk Frankie, his sweetness only amplified whenever he got liquored up, but between the pain that seemingly radiated from your uterus to every single nerve in your body and your extra-sensitive emotional state thanks to your hormones, you found yourself crying.

Without messaging him back—you were too irritable and sensitive to hold a conversation at the moment—you locked your phone and set it back down before forcing yourself to your feet. You nearly fainted from the change in position as you waddled your way to the bathroom, hoping that a hot bath would help ease some of the pain.

“Here,” Santi sat down beside Frankie in the front row of the packed gym, handing him a beer while his free hand held his own. Frankie accepted the drink but immediately set it down on the floor between his feet, his eyes fixed on your message thread, concern filling his stomach with each passing minute and no response. “You gonna stare at your phone all night?”

“Sorry,” Frankie sighed and locked his phone before stuffing it in his pocket. “She’s just not responding right now.”

“You guys in a fight?” Santi asked, keeping his eyes on the two lower-level boxers in the ring that were opening the fight night.

“No,” Frankie lifted his beer to his lips and took a swig before elaborating. “She’s supposed to be out with her friends, but she never checked in.”

“Why don’t you go call her before Benny comes out? Just make sure she’s good,” he suggested and Frankie immediately nodded, knowing that until he heard your voice assure him you were good, he’d spend all night distracted with worry.

The bath had helped a bit, but as soon as you left the comfort of the hot water, the pain hit you like a tonne of bricks. You hardly made it to the toilet before you threw up what little you’d managed to keep down today, the convulsing of your stomach furthering the exhaustion and pain rooted deep in your bones by now.

As you laid there in your towel recovering, you heard your phone buzzing against your nightstand, a sigh leaving your lips at the thought of standing up again. Instead of even trying, knowing full well that you’d likely faint if you tried to overextend yourself—you’d done it before—you found yourself naked, free bleeding, and crawling into your bedroom to reach your phone, sliding the green arrow to accept the call from your boyfriend.

“H-hey,” you croaked into the line, bile still burning your throat.

“Thank god,” he exhaled in relief. “Was worried something happened to you. You guys alright?”

“Didn’t go out,” you managed through a sigh, laying on your back on top of the rug covering your bedroom floor as you felt another cramp begin to dawn. Unable to hold in your whimper, you winced at the pain that began to flood your every nerve again.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie worried. When you couldn’t form a response, you swore you could hear his heart begin to pound in his chest over the phone. “Baby? Talk to me.”

“Can’t—cramps,” you whimpered through heavy pants, trying to breathe through the contracting in your uterus but it only triggered another vomit-spell. “Gonna puke.”

You reached for the trash can you placed at your bedside earlier just in case, but didn’t have time to mute your throwing up before it came out, forcing Frankie to hear the whole thing.

“Oh, baby,” he fretted. “I’m coming home.”

“No,” you croaked in between wretches. “M’good.”

“No, you aren’t,” he snapped. “I’ll be home in fifteen.”

“Frankie,” you sighed, hating the thought of ruining his one night a week he got to spend with his friends. “Stay, I’ll be fine.”

“There’s literally no way in hell that’s happening. I’ll be home in a second baby, okay?” You hummed in response, finally giving in to his persistence.

Frankie arrived exactly when he said he would, not bothering to take off his jacket, hat, or boots as he stomped his way down the hall to your shared bedroom, cooing at the sight of you still on the floor.

“I’m disgusting right now,” you cried, hating the fact that he was seeing you at your lowest—blood between your thighs, throw up in the trash can beside you, a cold sweat covering your skin.

“Baby, no,” he shook his head and stroked his warm palm over your forehead to wipe some of the sweat away. “C’mon, lemme help you up.”

He hoisted you into your feet and carried most of your weight as he walked you into the bathroom. Turning on the hot water, he helped you settle back into the bathtub, letting the hot shower head rain over you to wash the blood away before he switched it to the faucet so that the tub could fill up.

“Gonna go clean up a bit,” he mumbled as he placed a kiss to your forehead. “Have you eaten?”

“Mm-mm,” you shook your head, your eyes closed at you relished in the warmth of the slowly filling tub.

“Okay, I’ll order a pizza.”

“Can’t do pizza—can you just make me some plain oatmeal?” Frankie frowned at how sick you must be to turn down one of your favorite foods in exchange for plain oatmeal.

“Sure thing,” he nodded. “Have you taken meds?”

“Ran out.”

“Pobrecita,” he cooed, sitting down on the closed toilet seat, unable to leave you quite yet. “I’ll go to the drugstore.”

“I feel so bad,” you whined, opening your eyes to look over at him. “Ruined your night.”

“No you didn’t,” he was quick to correct. “I’d rather be here for you than out getting drunk. Do that every Friday anyways.”

You chuckled weakly and leant your hand out for him to take, Frankie quickly intertwining his fingers with yours. “Soon as I feel better, I’m gonna suck your dick for hours.”

It was Frankie’s turn to laugh, lifting the back of your hand up to his lips. “Holding you to that.”

Standing up, he let go of your hand and placed a kiss onto your cheek.

“Be right back, bonita.”

Somehow, Frankie’s momentary presence had given you enough strength to climb out of the bathtub, change in to a clean set of pajamas, throw away the trash bag filled with vomit beside your nightstand, and make yourself cozy in bed all on your own by the time he got back from the drugstore.

Frankie looked pleasantly surprised to see you beneath the comforter as he walked into the bedroom with a plastic bag filled with much more than just a bottle of Midol.

“Look at you,” he commended with a dimpled grin, setting the bag down at the foot of the bed before peeling off his outside clothes until he was was stripped down to just a pair of black boxer briefs. He tossed the comforter back on his side of the bed and crawled in beside you, his warm hands quick to replace the warmth of your heating pad as he pulled you close to his body.

“Even managed to brush my teeth,” you mumbled, exhausted from the pain of menstruating. He chuckled and kissed your shoulder.

“Wanna see what I got you?” You nodded and watched as he sat up, allowing you to place the heating pad over your stomach once more as he opened the bag up and began to take things out one at a time. “First, Midol.” He opened the packaging and handed you two pills which you quickly downed as he reached into the bag again. “Next, snacks.” He placed a bag of your favorite gummy candy on your lap before repeating the action with a chocolate bar and a bag of your favorite chips. “Lastly and most importantly,” he grinned as he reached into the bag and pulled out the book that you’d been dropping hints about wanting for the last month, your eyes tearing up at the thoughtful gesture. “Since I’m forcing you into bed rest, thought you’d want some reading material.”

“I am so in love with you,” you breathed out and tugged him down for a kiss, Frankie’s warm body half on top of yours as he moved his lips soft and slow against yours, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone as he cradled your jaw. “Thank you for doing this—for being here for me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he reminded but you were quick to shake your head.

“I want to. You could have easily just stayed out and left me to deal with this alone, but you didn’t.”

Frankie gave you an adoring frown, wondering what shithead you’d been with before set the bar so low that you were this blown away by what Frankie considered to be just a basic show of love, but he didn’t dwell on the thought too long, suddenly remembering you still had yet to eat.

“Gonna go make you that bland ass oatmeal you requested,” he mumbled as he pecked your lips. “Don’t get up.”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted him and delighted in the chuckle you caused, his chest vibrating against yours. Before he could get too far, you reached out your hand and gently gripped his bicep to stop him, his eyes quickly turning to yours. “I love you.”

Frankie cooed and crawled back into bed for one more kiss, letting his nose nuzzle against yours.

“I love you more.”

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

I don't think people talk nearly enough about how similar Ambrosius and Nimona (Comic Ver.) Are

Like on the outset yes, they are extremely different most particularly in their values. Ambrosius values righteousness, conformity, "goodness", and power while Nimona values chaos, individuality, justice, and loyalty. But who they are and how they act is pretty similar

They both tend to not take things seriously (even when in a very serious situation) but have explosive outbursts of anger or rage when they feel vulnerable. Ambrosius blew up Ballister's arm because he was scared of the Director's rejection and angry at Ballister for winning. Nimona tried to kill Ballister because she was scared he was going to harm her and angry he'd betrayed her trust by telling Ambrosius about her kryptonite.

They both frequently act childish in addition to Nimona actually experiencing involuntary age regression. While we don't see Ambrosius do this per se, we do see him revert back to the mindset of past parts of his life with seemingly little to no awareness that he is not currently existing in that space (I'm referring to the prison scene where he fondly reminisces about teenhood with Ballister like they are still friends without seeming to be aware that they are NOT, even when Ballister says this). So to headcanon that he would experience involuntary age regression isn't a stretch but maybe I'm reading too far into it who knows anyway

They both have outbursts (that hurt people they care about) that they struggle or completely fail to take accountability for

They both had nobody else but Ballister but were so woefully unable to regulate their emotions that they drove him away resulting in years of separation

If we drag movie Nimona into this comparison, both she and C! Ambrosius made one final, suicidal attempt of a grand gesture to save the day in the end fully viewing themselves as a monster and viewing dying to save the world their only path to redemption.

While I don't think they'd get along, I think they would come to understand and eventually respect one another. I think Ballister would see these similarities between the people he loves and that's how he'd know he could get them to coexist.

[durgesupremacy]

durge fic writing process thoughts: guilt versus shame

Write whatever you want! Headcanon your best life! And, I noticed a pattern in how I think about durge's character arc, especially because I'm currently writing an evil-to-the-end durge. No one asked for this (though asks are open!) but here it is, some rambling on how my durge(s) feeling guilt vs shame for their urges impacts whether they choose violence / stay evil.

(apparently the brand for this blog is Long Post Only)

I have a *lot* of oc durges. I'm writing Solace (they/them wood elf rogue / fighter) because they're the only one who fully pursues Gortash pre- and post-tadpole and I want to write durgetash rn. But in my weird personal multiverse of durges, the ones who were self-satisfied and confident pre-tadpole are the ones who become more "good" post-tadpole. The durges who were the most troubled pre-tadpole are more likely to do evil things, or at least be morally flexible.

Why? For me, a durge who experienced some kind of self-confidence, fulfillment, and/or pleasure during their time as a Bhaalist murder baby enters tadpole life with a seed of self-acceptance. Though they can't remember why, their amnesiac self has some preexisting inclination to like themselves for who they are and have more trust in their own judgment. They experience their urges for a second first time with enough security in themselves to reject them. They feel guilty, but they don't think this is who they are. (The internal conflict at this point is accepting their villainous past, which will be differently fun to write if I ever do it).

But a durge who moved through their Chosen of Bhaal phase with fear, insecurity, and/or low self-worth enters tadpole life with vestiges of self-loathing. Their broken brain leaned into traumatic rewiring, and when they re-encounter their urges they're predisposed towards self-hate and identify with the urges instead of challenging or rejecting them. Being Bad makes more intuitive sense to them than being, idk, Good with a Serious Problem. Something is wrong with them. They feel shame.

But without their memories, they don't really know why. Depending on party composition they can get praised and rewarded for the things they feel ashamed of. And in time, they realize they don't have to feel shame - after all, it's their reaction. They can react differently. If they stop fighting their "true nature" they can finally enjoy themselves. They'll even get rewarded for it and more or less have what they need to survive. (There's a whole other point of analysis here on companion interactions and community vs isolation, I can write that at some point if we're into it).

Ultimately, my post-tadpole self-loathing villain-arc durge is tempted not just by the urges, but by not feeling bad about themselves. Without their memories of who they were and why they should feel ashamed of that, they have the freedom to indulge in their worst traits. It might look like self-acceptance, but it's not. They just stopped caring about anything and followed the dopamine. And the more they give in to their "true self," the more inevitable it seems to them that their only path towards meaning and worth is through Bhaal. (At least it makes Solace go perfectly with Gortash. Misery doesn't love company so much as it hates being alone).

I guess this feels worth saying because I've seen nuanced discussion about durge's capacity for redemption, but the evil arc for durge seems mostly like them leaning into misc Bhaalist insanity and/or being very comfortable in their evil. I'm curious about (and enjoying) writing an evil durge that's less unhinged and is experiencing more relatable emotional arcs, even when we can't relate to their stabbing. Hopefully.

Stay tuned for more rambling

[designerairway0]

001 - the Other who does not belong to this world.

some blabla about henry creel and why I love him •́ . •̀

001 is neither understood nor does he understand the rules governing this world. He is a young deity, his own redemption. With a naive and straightforward cruelty, he softens gruesome and brutal scenes into poetry. He is beautiful, frighteningly enchanting. He is also bad, bad without needing a reason, like the lament of an angel strangled by the halo, struggling in its final moments before shattering into a wasteland. The fragmented scenes from episodes five to seven of Stranger Things subtly imply the pain that 001 has or is currently experiencing, unrecognized by others. From the frequent use of the word 'control' when he mentioned Papa to having his identity erased and becoming an experiment, to being stripped of power and turned into an orderly, then to being punished and electrocuted until he was dragged out of the control room unconscious... His vulnerability doesn't need an obvious explosive presentation; it just requires calmly and patiently narrating the story. Jamie's control and interpretation of emotions show us this slow tearing sensation.

Besides the fragmented scenes, the audience's understanding of 001 is also voyeuristic. When electrocuted, only a glimpse of his blonde hair is visible, so gentle yet so violent. He embodies too many contradictions, making you wonder whether breaking him and reshaping him makes him sexier or stripping away another layer of his disguise makes him sexier. When he talks with 11 about the 'memory that makes you sad and angry', when he transcends the human form, all these moments make you want to rediscover his vulnerability and you will continuously expect his more beautiful chaotic and surprising twists. This is why I love him so much.

[ota-division]

Chinami's Thoughts on Kumamoto Division

Aoba Yamamura

In the tranquil stillness of her home, Chinami prepares for the ritual of divination. Her son Jin plays quietly in the corner, his innocent laughter a gentle melody in the background. The room is dimly lit, save for the soft glow of candles that cast dancing shadows upon the walls. Chinami’s sisters, Kira and Taria, are elsewhere, their presence felt but not seen, allowing her the solitude necessary for her practice.

She sits at an aged wooden table, worn smooth by years of use. Before her rests the crystal ball, an orb of mysteries waiting to be unveiled. Chinami takes a deep breath, centering herself, her thoughts clearing like the sky after a storm. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of the crystal, a conduit to the lives of those she seeks to understand.

With a final glance at Jin, a silent promise of protection and love, Chinami takes a deep breathe and lets the visions come to her. The crystal ball becomes her window to the souls of the team known as Strange Magic, each member’s story ready to unfold beneath her perceptive gaze.

"Yamamura Aoba."

The Past: Chinami’s crystal ball reveals a childhood where the seeds of Aoba’s complex relationship with fire were sown. The burn marks from his mother, the nurturing guidance of his father, and the tragic loss that followed are all etched deeply into his being. His father’s death, a catalyst for Aoba’s descent into darkness, ignited a flame of vengeance that led him to exact retribution on those responsible. These events, coupled with the betrayal and manipulation he experienced in his youth, fractured his world, leaving him to seek solace in the destructive beauty of flames.

The Present: In the present, Aoba stands as a man of duality. By day, he is the custodian of knowledge, a librarian whose love for books is a fortress against the chaos of his emotions. By night, he dons the mantle of 'Bluefire,' where his pyromania becomes an outlet for the pain and instability that threaten to consume him. His acts of terrorism, though a cry for stability, are a dangerous dance with madness, a temporary balm for the wounds that time has yet to heal.

The Future: The future holds a precarious balance for Aoba. The crystal ball shimmers with the potential for healing or further descent into turmoil. His leadership within the Kumamoto Division offers a glimmer of hope, a chance to channel his tumultuous emotions into the art of rap. Yet, the threat of his mind’s complete fragmentation looms large. The path ahead is fraught with challenges, but also opportunities for redemption and the possibility of finding peace amidst the ashes of his past.

Kunio "Kurome" Chōten

"Chōten Kunio."

The Past: The crystal ball reveals a young Kunio, born into the opulence of Aoyama, yet feeling the suffocating grip of its expectations. His spirit rebels against the shallow values of the upper class, seeking authenticity among the streets and the arts. The ball shows the strain between Kunio and his brother Tomi, a bond tested and torn by the actions of their parents. His exile, though painful, becomes a liberation, leading him to the vibrant stages of Kumamoto and the companionship of Aoba and Natsume.

The Present: Chinami's crystal ball now focuses on Kunio's current life, where his vibrant persona as the 'smiling nobleman' captivates the hearts of Kumamoto. His love for the performing arts is not just a career but a declaration of his freedom from the shackles of Aoyama's elite. Yet, this same passion fuels his alter-ego 'Hollow,' a shadowy figure who seeks to dismantle the very foundations of the society he despises. His actions, though veiled in secrecy, are driven by a deep-seated need for retribution—a response to the betrayal and abandonment he felt at the hands of his family.

The Future: Peering into the future, the crystal ball reveals a path of both light and shadow for Kunio. His role in the Kumamoto Division alongside his closest allies, Aoba and Natsume, offers a chance for redemption and the creation of a legacy far removed from his birthright. Yet, the ball also shimmers with the darker hues of revenge, suggesting that his quest to settle scores with his family, especially his brother Tomi, may lead to a dramatic confrontation. The future is uncertain—will Kunio find solace in his art and companionship, or will the ghosts of his past compel him to a final act of defiance?

Natsume Kurome

"Kurome Natsume."

The Past: The crystal ball reveals a childhood marked by vivid dreams and premonitions, a gift that sets Natsume apart from an early age. His mother’s teachings of the tarot and his father’s encouragement of his artistic pursuits shape him into a multifaceted individual. Yet, this same gift becomes a burden when his mother succumbs to madness, an event that leaves a deep scar on Natsume’s heart. His journey through the world of art and his embrace of fashion and paganism are steps on a path to self-discovery, leading him to find solace in the expressive freedom of the performing arts.

The Present: In the present, Natsume stands as a beacon of beauty and mystery in Kumamoto, his store ‘The Pandora Box’ a haven for those seeking art and foresight. His flirtatious charm and enigmatic aura draw people to him, yet it’s his kindness and protective nature, especially towards Aoba and Kunio, that truly define him. His talent for reading people serves him well both as a fortune teller and an artist, his work reflecting the depth of his soul.

The Future: The future is a canvas awaiting Natsume's brush. The crystal ball shimmers with the promise of artistic triumphs and the deepening bonds of love and friendship. Yet, it also holds shadows of his past actions, the poisoner ‘Semiramis’ lurking within. His role in the Kumamoto Division, alongside Aoba and Kunio, is a chance for redemption and the creation of a legacy that transcends the pain of his history.

Strange Magic

As always, Chinami lays each of the 52 cards in her deck face down, preparing to let destiny decide which card will determine the true face of each member of this strange, yet intriguing division. Within a minute, three of the 52 cards are flipped face up, revealing them.

Aoba Yamamura - The Tower: For Aoba, ‘Bluefire,’ the card drawn is The Tower, symbolizing upheaval, the revelation of deeper truths, and the breaking down of existing structures. His life has been marked by dramatic changes and disruptions, much like the lightning that strikes The Tower. This card also represents a potential for enlightenment and liberation following a period of chaos, mirroring Aoba’s transformation through his trials.

Kunio Chōten - The Magician: The Magician is chosen for Kunio, representing resourcefulness, power, and the ability to manifest one’s desires. Kunio’s theatrical flair and his capacity to captivate audiences align with The Magician’s mastery over the elements. This card also signifies the convergence of the spiritual and material realms, reflecting Kunio’s journey from the constraints of his upbringing to the freedom of the stage.

Natsume Kurome - The Star: For Natsume, The Star is the perfect match, a symbol of hope, inspiration, and serenity. It reflects his role as a beacon of beauty and artistic talent in Kumamoto. The Star also represents healing and renewal, which resonates with Natsume’s recovery from his mother’s attack and his subsequent growth into a beloved fortune teller and artist.

The High Points: Chinami sees the good in each member’s life. For Aoba, the high point came after the darkest period of his life, when the loss of his father and the subsequent spiral into chaos nearly consumed him. His rebirth as ‘Bluefire’ marked a turning point, where he channeled his pain into a force for change, leading him to take the helm of Strange Magic and find a semblance of purpose amidst the turmoil.

Kunio’s moment of transformation occurred when he was exiled from Aoyama. This event, though initially a source of pain, became his liberation, freeing him from the constraints of his birthright. It allowed him to fully embrace his passion for the performing arts and eventually led him to find love and companionship with Natsume and Aoba, solidifying his role as a key member of Strange Magic.

And lastly, Natsume’s turning point was the tragic loss of his mother, which propelled him into a journey of self-discovery through art and fortune-telling. Opening ‘The Pandora Box’ and marrying Kunio were milestones that not only showcased his talents but also brought stability and love into his life, fortifying his place within Strange Magic.

The Team's Future: As a collective, Strange Magic’s destiny shifted when they came together to form their Division. Their individual high points converged, creating a synergy that amplified their talents and allowed them to support each other’s growth. The future holds the promise of their combined strengths leading them to new heights in the Division Rap Battle and beyond. Will their revolution come to fruition? Or is it doomed to be destroyed before it ever starts? Only time will tell...

[aconflagrationofmyown]

How did you become such a good writer? You have an amazing imagination and such a way with words that really makes me feel like "oh shit, I'm physically in the world of this book experiencing what the characters are." You write like nobody else I have seen in the Elvis fanficdom (I truly mean that) and I am humbled by your talent.

Please tell me a little more about your writing process! I hope to one day write even half as good as you.

(Also I need you to continue the Elvis x Godfather AU fic, kthx. Pretty please? I will even help you with Italian dialogue, lol. I'll do anything for it. Here, take my firstborn. :P )

Oh my darling, this is a downright humbling ask. Between insecurity and imposter syndrome, it’s a wonder I manage to keep enough words from being deleted that I’ve actually got series of fics in progress. 🥶 So truly, I’m astounded and touched by your compliments and I adore chatting writing, so let’s see if some rambling of thoughts will be of any aid to you. 🌹 I just snuck a peak at your current fic (forgive me that I’m not in a season where I am reading much, it’s nothing personal, just business that is currently keeping me from exploring more) and I was immediately sucked in by how gorgeously you describe action? It’s poetic yet not overburdened, the way you write people’s movements and elements moving, makes me envy you that. I often feel my descriptions are quite Spartan most the time, so hearing it mentioned as transporting is always a surprise. I don’t think of it as my strong suite. I’ve no real notion how to write a kiss, for instance. Ha.

So, stories…They come to me usually as intriguing beginnings, with an occasional outpost of a stellar scene or two in the middle, and then the muses sit back and cackle like malicious banshees as I beg them for an ending. So, most of my stories are started in faith, often abandoned halfway through, as no clear ending comes. But so far in this fandom I’ve made the most progress and due to the help of this community of friends, I actually have a plot end for both my works. I know some people think of an end and concoct plots around them, and for some it all seems to come at once. And then there’s me with the beginnings and no road map. Which camp do you consider yourself to be in? 😃

And then there’s the work of plotting and outlining which I wish I was better at, as it appeals to me. But the minute I do it, all creative force dies within me. So it’s all buried in my lil noggin for safe keeping until the time comes to write the chapter. What I do plan out, however, is an emotional arc to a story, and a redemption/devolution plot for each main character. Knowing what growth I want to happen when, and what setbacks occur at what times has given me the strangest freedom of settings to accomplish it in -often none I would have plotted out intentionally. But that way I’m not forcing my relationship to grow in the confines of my plot, but rather my plot is the vehicle for the relationship to form and grow. I adore motifs, and I try to pay attention to how they appear in real life. I believe life is very subtly cyclical and the stories that ring truest to me are likewise.

I have a nasty habit in real life of observing everything like it’s witting material. Long before I started writing, I used to feel rather like a detached observer of other people’s reactions to life. It made me notice types of people, and while you can’t peg folks (much as I find personality tests a rather fun attempt) I do hold fast to the fact that in a story, if someone changes for worse or better, if they react for worse or better, it needs to be in character. It’s amazing how much this little detail can help something feel real. You can have a character fail, but if they fail in a way that doesn’t ring true to what we know of them and their motivations, it’ll feel like unnecessary drama to me. Does that make sense? Likewise with the victories -which victories will mean much or little to them? Does it ring true as being fully what they’ve always worked for? And who are they working for? Their own happiness and success? Or do they find more satisfaction in aiding others to reach the summit? Anyway, watching and identifying types of people and keeping those traits consistent on paper is easier said than done, as I’m learning every day. 😂

Lastly, (I suppose) I’d credit any vocabulary, thematic potency and rich setting to the sheer amount of old books and songs I’ve grown up immersed in. My favorite authors are Stevenson, Dumas and Mitchell. All of them set their stories in the middle of massive, world-changing events, yet their stories remained personal. Culture and necessity shape a person as much as taste and upbringing or anything else, and it’s a delight to try to immerse myself in a world different from my own. Basic goodness and basic evil may always remain, but the shades of grey and the loved ones getting caught in events far more powerful than their own strengths and best intentions yet trying their utmost to do well in the times they have been placed in: those are the stories and themes I adore the most in songs and literature. And they’re starkly abundant in dear Elvis’ near mythic life arc. So, here I am weaving tales about what could have been. 🥹

My messages are always open for a grand ole chat about writing, if you ever wanna pop in. I love you dearly and appreciate you so much. And The Godfather AU?! Oh how it has my heart still! I’ll totally take you up on the dialogue and any other suggestions you have that might ignite the smoldering concept. 😘

[sareisnot]

Wall-E: The Best and Worst of Humanity on Display

For a children’s movie, Wall-E presents quite a dim prospect for humanity. Its two major settings, that being the ruined, trash filled earth, and the hyper-capitalist, hedonistic nightmare of the Axiom cruise ship, serve as quite blunt criticisms of modern society’s current trajectory. It anticipates a future in which our capitalistic systems propel towards our worst, most wasteful instincts, and reduce the planet to such a state that the best solution the corporatocratic government can come up with is, “just get out of dodge before it gets worse.” But old habits die hard, as the large-scale apathy, lethargy, and alienation seen on the Axiom proves. In WALL-E's very pointed opinion, our current practices, and the systems that foster those practices, only serve to further distance us from our humanity, preventing us from experiencing the true joys of life, and rejecting fulfillment for convenience.

The film’s thesis statement can be found in the words of the Axiom’s captain: “That’s all anyone on this blasted ship has ever done…I don’t want to survive! I wanna LIVE!” To simply pursue what best fosters your existence, the film says, is no way to move through life, at least not without sacrificing a bit of yourself on the way. Every character who helps WALL-E and EVE along, be they human or robot, has chosen to act on their emotional wants, rather than their objective drives. M-O and the other robots stray from their programming to help the couple, the Captain rejects Auto’s doctrine of survival, and even the gigantic WALL-A's stop collecting trash for a moment, to provide the heroes with some light. But in this universe, pursuing fulfillment is to fight against the tide. In this exaggerated version of our current capitalist, commercialized, proto-dystopia, there is no place for emotional drive, because it hinders practicality. At its core, WALL-E is a warning, that if we continue to chase this toxic instinct, then we will inevitably be relegated to a species of glorified dopamine receptors.

Despite this rather dreary warning, the film still maintains a boundless optimism. As a matter of fact, the film is bursting with hope, positivity, and most prominently, love. The film's emotional core, that being relationship between WALL-E and EVE, is also where one can find humanity's most redemptive quality: connection. The relationships that we forge, and the meaningful interactions that we have with others, are where the spirit of humanity is defined and fostered. All throughout the film, WALL-E and EVE, through their love, continuously bring humanity out of each other. At one point, EVE tosses away the plant, which had served as the film's primary motivator up to then, to communicate that she refuses to leave WALL-E behind. Their connection has inspired her to reject what is objectively best and choose love. This kind of choice is eventually what saves WALL-E, as EVE restores his unique personality in the end with a “kiss.” It is only through their love and connection that they find the motivation to finally return the plant and chart a course back to earth, saving humanity from slow decline. It is the culmination of the films several moments in which connection, compassion, and love are the motivators. “Define Dancing,” arguably the film’s most stunning scene, features WALL-E and EVE dancing with each other in space, for no other reason than to enjoy each other's company, and the life they have been granted. In turn, witnessing this scene is what causes John and Mary, the secondary human couple, to meet each other, and continue a dual arc of rediscovering their agency, which is initially sparked by WALL-E, but is maintained by their connection. WALL-E inspires EVE, who inspires The Captain, who inspires the rest of humanity, and eventually leads them back to their home. It is through this web of knock-on effects, the film states, that we can recover from even the direst of circumstances. We can never fully lose this aspect of humanity, even as we tread further into the seemingly inhuman future, because it is a quintessential, necessary part of our fundamental being. If connection is possible, the human spirit will endure, even if there are no more humans to carry it.

[tiptapricot]

New mando ep has put into perspective the intended goal of this season and in so many ways has been my favorite so far for the developments it gives and the path it’s setting up, however I’m still firm that the narrative choice to explore those thoughts has been unfocused and unbalanced, and could’ve been done so much better.

Some general ideas on how plot points thus far could’ve been better presented now that we actually finally know our story direction.

I’m enjoying Bo Katan’s story, I’m enjoying seeing more of the covert, I understand how the larger new republic politics are playing into the plot. But that can all have been done in tandem instead of feeling striated or shallow in places.

Din should’ve still had an active focus through line in this, scenes from his point of view or quiet moments with Grogu and the others as he reflects on his place and his responsibilities, as well as his recent redemption. While yes, the show does not have to be solely around him, when shifting character focus it has to be done in a way that tracks for that character and for the overall story. He does have more development to undergo, and developments he has experienced this season were rushed out of the way to get to everything else.

The bathing in the waters should’ve either taken longer or been given more lingering and poignant focus. The message of differing mandalorian beliefs as well as the true ruler storyline could’ve also been an active parallel or conversation with Bo, showing both of their conflicts and relationships to the future of Mandalorians and their culture. This wouldn’t have had to cut any of her stuff, but would’ve better melded the two and allowed for the hanging emotional threads for Din (and Grogu/their dynamic) that have just been passive and shallow in the background to have more of an active presence, even if he himself wasn’t aiming towards anything.

The general conflict between different mandalorian beliefs and cultures also should’ve been integrated differently. Both Paz and Bo and the CotW as a whole (we can somewhat assume) have experience with/knowledge of/a history with Death Watch, as well as the general past of Mandalorian civil wars, disputes, differing factions etc. and Bo meeting and joining the covert could’ve been the perfect space to bring up and explore that conflict.

The fact that her and Paz have not once talked about her history or his family is baffling to me, and this handling of that idea also would’ve laid the groundwork for the Armorer’s decision and understanding now of needing a united front, of coming together despite differences in creed and belief. Reflecting on that history of conflict would’ve strengthened the current need for unity, and also would have avoided making Bo’s history feel overlooked or downplayed. This also could’ve given us a better history for the CotW and how they grew.

Lastly, the imperial/new republic storyline should’ve been spread out wayyyy more and also had more care given to the political implications and parallels it has to real life. I honestly really don’t think we needed most of episode three still, or at least didn’t need it so condensed. Being a slow build would’ve better integrated it with the rest of the plot, and led to rising tension as we looked to see where it was leading. It would’ve set the groundwork for Gideon’s apparent escape, and along with the discussion of different mandalorian factions/mando history, would’ve set a precedent for those conflicting ways of going about things, as well as the Empire’s history in manipulating Mandalore’s politics. We still don’t know if Mandalorians actually broke out Gideon or if it’s a frame up, but it doesn’t really matter as both would relate to that same clashing core idea.

I’m also not one to speak on the worldbuilding of the new republic as far as what makes sense and what’s being messed up, as I’m not as deep into the larger Star Wars mythos, but I do believe more care should’ve been given to the presentation and implications of the amnesty program, like how Pershing is not and has not been an innocent, and framing him that way is disingenuous to his place in fascist genetic experimentation. Reform can happen, but there needs to be more nuance given, and the entire mini episode in ep 3 again should’ve been paced and presented much differently for overall story cohesion.

These are just my thoughts, I don’t hate the season but I do feel the writing quality has significantly gone down and I’m more enjoying it for character interactions and CotW/mando worldbuilding. These do include my personal preferences and expectations, but I think there’s something to be said for wishing a show better balanced it’s story threads, as it’s been done before in previous mando seasons, even with a more monster of the week approach, and I think we’re severely lacking it currently.

[melishade]

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

For the ask game? Hi

Hello kurama!

This ask game btw

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

-Get a notebook and start writing. And write anything in it. Write notes, certain scenes, draw in it, do anything to it. Your notebook is your prize and safe haven to help you keep track of your notes and what you want to plan for your stories. You have your ideas, your inspiration in that book. If you can't get a physical notebook, write it on your phone. I used to write in notebooks a lot and you guys have seen them. I've been writing in notebooks since...6th grade actually. It helps a lot.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

Ooo. That's hard. Hanji is a personal bias because it's me projecting onto her in every possible way. TFP Optimus is fun because I finally get him to emote and be emotional. He gets to have connections with the people he's trying to protect that we don't see in the TFP show.

TFP Megatron is the hardest, but is my favorite one to write, especially since Predacons Rising left him in a weird place. It definitely wasn't a redemption, and it shouldn't be treated as such. As someone who is so ingrained in violence and destruction, it's going to be hard to break away from that. I have to write Megatron in a place of resistance, of selfishness, because change doesn't happen over night. Breaking from your coping mechanisms don't happen overnight. It takes time and it takes work. The easiest way of accomplishing this for me is writing this from the perspective of someone who absolutely despises Megatron because that is the only way his development is going to work. He's a murderer, a tyrant, a monster. How do I make a monster feel remorse? How do I make him learn and grow? How do I make him grow a conscious and make him change in a way that feels natural?

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

Months...and I mean months.

Back when I started Attack on Prime, word count for the first chapter clocked in at 4 to 5k words. Didn't take me long to write. Later chapters between 6 to 8k words. The OVAs have been the exception in breaking that word count. But now? I'm writing 10K words at minimum for chapters. The Hizuru OVA sits at 32,347 word and that took months to write because of the amount of research I had to do on 1920-1930s Japan. This was before I republished Attack on Prime on Ao3. I'm trying to write the remaining chapters I have on a monthly basis but I am currently experiencing writer's block on 'Heal' and it's frustrating. Because I had an outline but because of the way I wrote other scenes I gotta rework and take shit out. It's a whole thing.

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Romance is not something I'm particularly savvy to. Like kissing, flirting, sex scenes? Nah, can't do it. I'm more particular to cuddling and snuggling and acts of intimate affection. I'll write certain scenes of romance, like the Next of Me OVA had very particular scenes pertaining to Historia and Ymir's relationship, even them getting married. But like a full romance novel? Can't do it.

[kanazero-vampireknight2]

Me: How about in reverse? What do you think Kaname might do if Zero broke down in front of him?

Chat gpt:

If Zero were to have an emotional breakdown in front of Kaname, it would again depend on the context and the current dynamics of their relationship. Based on their interactions in "Vampire Knight," I can speculate on how Kaname might respond:

Concern and empathy: Despite their complicated relationship, Kaname has shown moments of care and concern for Zero. If Zero were to have a breakdown, Kaname might react with genuine worry and empathy. He could set aside their differences and offer support to Zero, recognizing the vulnerability and pain he is experiencing.

Guilt and responsibility: Kaname has often carried a sense of responsibility for Zero's well-being. If Zero were to break down, Kaname might feel a deep sense of guilt for the role he played in Zero's suffering and emotional turmoil. He might blame himself for Zero's distress and become determined to do whatever he can to alleviate his pain.

Redemption and reconciliation: Kaname might see Zero's breakdown as an opportunity for reconciliation and healing. He might view it as a chance to make amends for past actions and try to mend their broken relationship. Kaname could offer a sincere apology and work towards building a more positive and supportive connection with Zero.

Skepticism and caution: On the other hand, depending on the circumstances and their current dynamics, Kaname could also approach Zero's breakdown with skepticism. If their trust has been severely damaged, Kaname might question the authenticity of Zero's emotions, suspecting that it could be a ploy or manipulation. This skepticism could prevent him from fully embracing Zero's vulnerability.

It's important to note that these are speculative reactions based on the characters' personalities and past interactions. The actual response of Kaname to Zero's breakdown would ultimately depend on the story's direction and the intentions of the creators of "Vampire Knight."

[red-dead-reloaded]

I'm currently writing a John fanfic. It's going to be really long so I'm going to publish it in parts.

It is a romance with some smut, but the first real smutty scene doesn't happen for a few chapters. However, there are lots of other romantic moments along the way. If you prefer shorter reads with romantic or smutty scenes, you don't have to follow along with the story. I'll point those scenes out as I post them and you can treat it like a standalone fic rather than a multi-chapter one if that's more your thing.

Here's an introduction:

Cassie is a regular 18-year-old woman from the 21st century who finds herself joining the Van Der Linde gang after a near-death experience, where she meets John Marston. She is swept up into the events of Red Dead Redemption 2, experiencing a reverse-redemption process as she transforms from the naïve and innocent daughter of a lawmaker to a lawbreaker. Cassie must contend with the consequences of actions she would never have imagined participating in.

There's something else: Cassie is a werewolf. How did she become this way, and how did she end up in 1890s USA? Will John find out? How will he react, given his near-death experience at the hands of wolves?

This is Red Dead Redemption 2 from the perspective of a modern mind in the world of yesteryear. An R-rated love affair featuring John Marston and Cassie as they experience a burgeoning romance alongside the demise of the Van Der Linde gang and the decline of the Wild West.

I haven't made anything I've written public before, so I'll be genuinely happy for any constructive criticism that could help me improve in future. I usually just write for myself but I've decided to share this in case you want to come along on this little adventure too!

The idea is that it follows along the main story of the game with some parts of the canon changed where it needed to be for the story to work. Obviously, this is a stupidly big project, and I can't guarantee I'll finish the whole thing! However, I'm enjoying writing it, so we'll see what happens.

I've written the story for 13 parts so far, but I go through multiple stages. I start off with the story, then go back and add more information, change what needs to be changed, etc.

Most of the chapters are still at stage 1. I've basically got the full thing in my mind but it's obviously a lot ot work through. I wonder if I'm being a little too ambitious, but whatevs, I'm having fun, and if anyone else enjoys it along the way too - then yay! 😊

Currently waiting on an ao3 invite to be able to post chapter 1 as I'd rather post it there and then link here.

Just a heads up - chapter 1 is rather intense and describes the aftermath of a rape, so if you find that triggering, I'd pass on it or skip over this fic altogether. It doesn't include the event itself, but it has a strong impact on the character's emotional journey throughout the story. Will add relevant warnings and all that.

Also, I haven't used Tumblr much, and I'm kind of crap at social media in general. So please let me know if I've done any no-nos.