#even though the prompt will end up being unrecognizable

[lenievi]

I've just realized that I could use the fic I wrote for Trai's prompt (well... it was inspired and then... became something else) for Trektober but looking at the prompts it's also like... it doesn't seem to fit any???? Maybeeee "fraternization" since most trek ships are fraternization...

(i think the only reason why i'll eventually publish the fic even though i'm not that confident and i'm sure people will be ??? when it comes to characterization/behaviour is because it's tos!kirk/mccoy

and like i could post it on anon and pretend no one will know it's mine lol)

[erisenyo]

“Oh fuck oh FUCK” + Zukka please!

For this prompt game! (And also this one!) (And this one too lol)

Zuko isn’t sure what posses him to actually say yes when the last hotel calls back to regretfully confirm that there will be no vacancies tonight and the cute mechanic lets up the truly over-the-top flirting to half-shyly offer Zuko a place to stay that night—

“Well, not my house,” Sokka—not Hakoda, going by the wince when Zuko had called him that, even though that’s what’s embroidered over his pocket—says, tugging on his wolf tail, “It’s my dad’s house. But he’s away!” Sokka says, excited and quickly tacking on when he seems to hear himself, “He’s helping out my Gran Gran! So I’m house-sitting! And keeping this place going—”

He waves a hand around the auto shop, making Zuko intensely curious about what Sokka does if not this all the time. He looks good in those overalls...

Not that Zuko has the chance to ask.

“—and so don’t worry, there’s plenty of space. I’m not suggesting you stay in my room—or, well, actually it is my room, but from when I was a kid, not you know, my room. I don’t live there anymore—”

Zuko wonders where he does live, if it’s close to the band’s recording studio, or any of their homes, and Ty Lee is always renting apartments all over the place maybe Zuko could—

“—but it’s still a totally good room still, like quiet but not creepily so, you know? And you can stay there. Or not! Absolutely no pressure, like obviously if you want to keep calling hotels or I mean I guess we could make up the couch in the office, though I wouldn’t recommend it," Sokka adds, frowning at the couch in question. "You end up with this really weird crick in your—”

“Yes,” Zuko interrupts, "Yes, a place to say would be great," he says, putting Sokka out of his misery. Even though he’s been enjoying the rambling train of Sokka’s thoughts all day, and he really shouldn’t impose, and Zuko might feel comfortable after so many hours of Sokka trying to figure out Zuko’s car but he doesn’t actually know the guy, and—

Sokka breaks into a grin, wide and pleased and clearly delighted and Zuko’s stomach flips the way it’s been doing all day and right. Right. That. That’s why Zuko said yes, even though he knows it’s stupid, even though it would be easier to just ask for the guy’s number even if as a rule Zuko doesn’t give out his own. Even though Mai would take one look at Sokka and give Zuko one of those knowing looks of hers and he hates being so predictable but shit, this guy is such his type.

Which means he’s not disappointed when Sokka says, “Awesome, dude! We can grab burritos on the way back!”

Dude.

And burritos.

But Zuko’s not disappointed, he’s not. He’s…relieved. To have a place to stay tonight that’s not a dubious-looking couch, or the back of his own barely-fits-two-people car. And to not be recognized—not that he ever is—because the last thing he needs on top of his car breaking down in the middle of nowhere, meaning he’s absolutely going to miss his flight—shit, Uncle is going to be so disappointed…—is to be dealing with fans.

Pestering him for info about the rest of the Dangerous Ladies, or trying to sniff out rumors about the relationships they’re all convinced are happening within the band, or hating him for breaking Mai’s heart as if it wasn’t mutual and years ago anyway. and they’re still in the band so clearly it’s fine, Mai didn’t even write that song, and—

And it’s fine. Zuko doesn’t even know what he was worried about in the first place. For someone with a massive facial scar, he's proven shockingly unrecognizable without a flaming guitar in his hands. Which is fine. Exactly how he likes it.

So what if he almost never gets his own posters of magazine covers? So what if he's tucked off to the side or in the back of all the official merch and the band has a running collection of all the albums and magazine covers and t-shirts that inexplicably end up with a price sticker over his and only his face?

It’s better than getting mobbed every time he leaves the house like Azula and getting pelted with rumors like Ty Lee and having his every expression scrutinized like Mai. It's better than having every outfit analyzed and every tilt of his head breathlessly redescribed and every photo and appearance and sighting on the street turned into screenshots and phone backgrounds and gif sets and spank bank material, better than everyone he meets tripping to fall into his bed and—

Really. It’s better.

“Here it is, the humble abode!” Sokka gives Zuko an uncertain flash of a smile as holds open the door, like he thinks someone who drives a Porsche so tricked out Sokka had had to psych himself up to actually touch it is going to judge a well-loved ranch house, which…well. Maybe isn’t such a bad assumption.

Zuko hastily makes sure his expression is set into something attentive and interested, his June is talking face, as Azula calls it.

“You’ve got your kitchen here,” Sokka says, flicking on a light to show the worn, comfortable-looking space. “Glasses are over the sink, snacks are in the fridge and in the tall cabinet if you need anything. There’s some leftovers in the freezer you can reheat, too, if you want. Oven, microwave, all the good stuff, you just, you know. Hit the buttons, and—”

And Sokka is clearly back to nervous rambling, because Zuko doesn’t think he’s going to need to eat for the rest of the week after finishing that burrito. A fucking burrito. Ugh, if there’s ever a less sexy food, and then to eat so much of it nervously pacing Sokka that Zuko actually contemplated whether he could subtly unbutton his jeans in the car…

“…and the bedrooms are this way, and the bathroom—it’s shared, sorry,” Sokka adds, glancing back to give Zuko an apologetic look. Zuko hastily jerks his eyes up off Sokka’s ass. “Probably not what you’re used to, I know. But it’s just you and me, so it won’t be too bad!”

“It’s perfect,” Zuko says, trying for a smile and blinking when Sokka just coughs, a blush staining his cheeks as he quickly gets back to his tour.

“Extra blankets and stuff are here,” Sokka says, rapping on a closed door. “Towels, pillows, the works. There should be some extra shampoo and soap and stuff in there too, if you need it.”

“Sounds like you have everything covered,” Zuko says, hearing the awkward edge of his words but still trying to reach for some of the joking, playful easiness of earlier today. “Quite the full-service auto shop you’re running.”

“Uh…yeah.” Sokka freezes a little, eyes wide, which…great. Zuko isn’t surprised he missed the mark, but still. He thought he’s at least better these days than when Azula firmly told him he was no longer allowed to speak in interviews until he could be sure he wasn’t going to end up in another bloopers reel.

“Anyway!” Sokka finally says, shaking himself, his voice coming out suddenly squeaky, which— “Here’s your room, have a good night, make yourself comfy I’ll seeyoutomorrow!”

Zuko blinks again, nonplussed. Did Sokka just...run away? In his own home?

"That's that then," Zuko sighs ruefully—the flirting had been so outrageous that Zuko couldn’t quite believe it was actually real, so—giving the closed door Sokka had disappeared behind one last look before slipping into his room.

Which is very much a teenager’s room, holy—Zuko nearly laughs as he realizes why Sokka was so quick to make that clear. And a well-lived in one, at that, LEGOs on the shelves and cheap trophies for science fairs lined up across the dresser, half-faded posters and clipped-out pictures tacked over the walls and old art supplies still scattered over the desk.

It's cluttered and eclectic and...cute. Cute in the same way Sokka is cute, and he’d probably hate being called that which just makes Zuko want to do it even more, Zuko’s lips curled again into the little smile he feels like he's been wearing all day as he sprawls back on the neatly-made twin bed and immediately makes eye contact with himself.

On the ceiling.

Shirtless.

Life-sized.

Zuko’s mind immediately supplies the details—that Rolling Stones cover shoot for their third album, right before Zuko had turned twenty, when he was still somehow managing to keep up his martial arts training because who needed sleep, definitely not him. He and Ty Lee had been goofing off while Mai and Azula got their makeup finished, flexing their muscles and trying to out-flexible each other and the photographer had loved it and had them run with it, who could pose the most creatively with the most outrageously flexed muscles and —

Zuko slowly closes his mouth and rapidly reconsiders that whole ‘not recognized’ thing...

--

Sokka is giving his teeth the most thorough, most frustrated brush of his life—ugh, burritos. Why did he suggest burritos—when he nearly chokes on his toothpaste as he suddenly realizes that he just put Zuko Hua in his— “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”

Oh…fuck.

Katara is never going to let him live this down.

He is so, so fucked.

[marcandreyuri]

"that wasn't part of the plan" + sidnate 👀 (IF you would like) or pairing of your choice

dialogue prompt meme

as if i could get this prompt and not write the sidnate unplanned pregnancy au ive been thinking about since june. this ended up being a little disjointed but oh well. previous sidarmy mention. 714 words.

"This clearly wasn't part of the plan," Biz says on the stupid summer trade panel that TNT is having to go over all the free agency moves. "The Penguins expected Crosby back this season, and now they have to scramble this summer trying to cover him."

Sidney growls and jams his thumb into the power button of the remote, and the TV mercifully turns off. The news came out last week, an official press memo going out that redefined his ambiguous upper body injury into a pregnancy that will have him sitting out what was supposed to be his final season.

"Biz is an idiot," Nate says from the doorway of the living room having just come up from his gym in the basement, dripping with sweat after his workout with Andy. "C'mon Sid, everyone knows that."

"No kidding," Sid says. He runs a finger lightly over his stomach, feeling the gentle swell of it, the way his skin is stretched and growing to accommodate their baby.

She's the size of an avocado. Nate swears she's a boy. They find out for sure next month, when one of them will lord being right over the other.

Nate comes over and leans over the back of the couch, the smell of his deodorant and sweat mixing together in a way that reminds Sidney of rolling around on gym mats together, stolen kisses in empty locker rooms. He puts his hand over Sidney's stomach and rests it there as Sidney lets his head fall back and rest against Nate.

"Sorry about your season," Nate says like he does basically every day, guilt dripping through his voice.

Biz was right. This wasn't part of the plan. Sidney was meant to have his final season playing before going to work in the front office, scouting a junior league in Canada and sneaking back to America to see Nate when he could.

"It's fine," Sidney says. "It is what it is."

"I'm gonna gonna take a shower, and then do you wanna go out on the boat?" Nate asks.

He lets his hand linger on their baby for an extra second before straightening out when Sid says, "Sure." It's a relatively windless day, so hopefully the water will be calm. Sid doesn't exactly want a repeat performance of two weeks ago when the wake was choppy, and he threw up four times off the side of the boat before they called it a day.

He and Nate go upstairs, Nate slipping into the shower as Sid changes out of the sweatpants he's been wearing basically nonstop this summer. Before he puts on his swimsuit and t-shirt, he stares at himself in the mirror, turning so he can look from all angles.

His mom says she'll be a small baby, Sidney's stomach barely popping out, but he knows it's still early. When Tanger had Alex he was tiny until the ninth month, when he randomly ballooned basically overnight.

Tanger was in the gym doing his insane workouts every day until he gave birth though, and Sid has embraced the gentle workouts Andy's switched him to. He knows it's only a matter of time before his body changes into something completely unrecognizable, something unable to play hockey even if Sidney tried.

As he pulls on his trunks, he thinks about the abortion he got when he was nineteen, he and Army terrified of him giving up hockey and scheduling the appointment the day they found out.

This time was different, this baby--his daughter--and this relationship with Nate. He's humming happily in the shower, buzzing since they got the call from the doctor telling them Sidney's vomitting wasn't because of the flu.

Sid has to give up his final season, which fucking sucks and probably always will, but his first thought when they found out wasn't get rid of it like last time. He didn't think about hockey or next year's playoff push or setting any more records. He and Nate had turned to each other with stupid, wide smiles on their faces instead.

He pulls his trunks on, but waits for his shirt, putting his hand over the bump and imagines next summer, he and Nate and their daughter on the boat and feels a warm glowing feeling move through him.

[allylikethecat]

⋆˚࿔ october prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

I wrote this one in literally ten minutes and did not proof read it at all even for like... typos because I am already running late to pick my friend up for a concert tonight. BUT I have made it this far, I wasn't going to miss a day now! I apologize for whatever this mess is, I hope you stick with me I promise tomorrow's will be better!

²¹⁾ a bodyguard’s earpiece

A bodyguard’s earpiece. A message through a bodyguard’s earpiece was how it started and then suddenly Matty was being all but tackled on stage, pulled out of the spotlight and ushered backstage. He was poured, limbs tangled and shaking into the back of a waiting SUV, the windows tinted, blacked out. George, Adam and Ross, the fans were left blinking in confusion, unsure what had just happened, unsure about what was to continue to happen. They were holding their instruments, and Matty was gone, something was wrong something was really, really wrong— 

But then George would wake up, and Matty would be snoring next to him, his nose all but shoved into George’s armpit, his curls askew and tickling George’s own nose from the way he had himself all but twisted around Matty, cocooning him, as if he could protect him from the outside world. George knew that soon Matty would awake himself, that he would complain about being hot, about George smothering him, cracking some joke about how George was terrified that he was going to disappear even though Matty didn’t know, couldn’t know that in the nightmares that haunted George’s dreams that’s what happened. 

Sometimes the bodyguard, George didn’t know who, his face unrecognizable, would tackle Matty and pull him backstage and out of the venue. Other times, he would come to the boys, telling them that Matty was gone and that he had ODed even though Matty had been clean for years. George didn’t know who he was but he hated him, no news this figment of his imagination ever shared was good and it all ended up with George, waking up in a cold sweat, trembling as he confirmed that yes, Matty was alright, Matty was fine. No one had taken him, no one had killed him. 

George untangled himself carefully from Matty, letting him sleep for a bit longer, George knew that he wasn’t going to be able to. The sense of wrongness that washed over him whenever the man from his nightmares appeared putting him on edge. He made his way down to the kitchen, meaning to get a jumpstart on breakfast. Matty always gave George a smile, extra pleased and sleepy when he woke to the smell of coffee and pancakes, settling himself at the kitchen table in George’s hoodie, his legs tucked up to his body as they started the morning. George opened up his iPad as he leaned against the counter, letting the coffee as he checked some emails. He opened one from Jamie, going over the personnel hired for their upcoming tour. The usual suspects were all present, but George froze as he scrolled down further, seeing the short bio and headshot at the bottom. 

A new member of their security team was being added, due to their rise in notoriety, but George had seen his face before. It was the man from his nightmares, the one that always seemed to take Matty away from him. He dropped his iPad, the screen shattering as he scrambled for his phone. He needed to call Jamie, he needed to tell him that in no uncertain terms, was that man joining them on tour. 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |

[thegamingcatmom]

Hiiii,, soooo, how do you think the sisters would react when MC wanted to do something nice for either one of them, but it all blows up in MCs face. Like, everything goes wrong?

I've got a few ideas, but I want to hear your thoughts.

😏

Honestly?

(That gif is perfect for them.)

They´d be swooning because their mate´s done something nice for them, how could they not swoon?? They don´t give a damn whether it works/looks as intended in the end. It´s the thought that matters, even Kate understands that. 😏

In fact, I think they´d be more charmed if it didn´t work out as planned because can MC get any more precious??

I guess the best way to describe them would be:

Oh...honey-

Because MC´s all huffy and puffy, crossing her arms and muttering under her breath in utter annoyance and frustration (at herself). So, yknow-

The turns have tabled.

(Usually it´s her wives exhibiting that behavior.)

In other words:

She looks every bit like a grumpy toddler.

.

.

.

Btw: Since you haven´t specified what that "something" MC has done for the sisters should be, I just went with something she´s crafted herself. (Like a vase with the sisters initials or something. Perhaps the date of their very first meeting too. 🤭)

.

Tanya Denali:

can´t hold back her smirk

(not that she´s trying)

yknow, the one where only one corner of her mouth lifts

(ye, the sexy one)

also can´t refrain from teasing a lil bit

just a smidge

eyes glowing and all

"Someone has discovered their artistic streak, it seems..."

(because, whatever MC has attempted to do, the result is rather unrecognizable)

cue MC becoming even huffier and puffier

cue Tanya becoming even more of a tease

"I do appreciate the artistic freedom. Very...abstract."

right, MC´s done now, about to leave out the door in utmost indignation-

well, she planned to

the hand taking a hold of hers stopped her

"I am merely teasing, poppet..."

wrapping her arms around a still pouting MC

starting to sway them from side to side

"You are too precious..."

pecking her lips

again

and again

and again

until MC can't hold back her smile anymore

causing Tanya to beam back at her

"Thank you, my love. I adore it..."

she means it

Kate Denali:

she´s a tease as well

but in a different way

meaning: in a more straightforward way

as in: she'll list the many things you could still do with that...monstrosity

"How 'bout a footrest?"

"OH! We could store it up the attic with all the other Halloween stuff?"

"If we cut out a portion, we could use it as mailbox."

"Or a piggy bank."

"Now that I think about it...it kinda looks like one, doesn´t it?"

she says it all with a mischievous look on her face, ofc

eyes twinkling and all

then she sees the look on MC´s face

-> 😠

which only makes her grin even more

-> 😠

"Oh cmon, Princezná. Don´t be like that..."

tries to wind her arms around a still very grumpy MC

only for MC to refuse, huffing and puffing, turning her back on her

that works for her too, no problem

slinks up from behind to wrap her arms around MC

lays her chin on MC´s shoulder

sways them from side to side

"You´re sexy when you´re grumpy, yknow that?"

MC: "I´m not grumpy."

also MC: 😤

Kate: "So sexy..."

also MC: *trying real hard to keep that smile off her face indeed*

also Kate: "By the way...I love it."

she means it

Irina Denali:

can´t contain her giggle at the sight

a giggle that is most angelic

so much so that, instead of storming out or being grumpy, MC is just pouty

teary eyes and all

Irina feels bad immediately

"I´m sorry for laughing, baby..."

wraps her arms around MC

tries to catch her gaze

tries even harder when MC refuses

rewards MC with the biggest smile once she does catch her gaze

which prompts MC to smile back

just a smidge

the disappointment over her failed attempt at surprising her wife is still very evident on her face though

"Maličký..."

foreheads are touching

"I love it."

she means it

MC scoffs at that

"Truly. How could I not? You´re the one who made it."

MC is basically putty in her arms now

they stay like that for a while

and a while more

until-

"But...do tell me, sweet girl-"

MC: 👀

"...What is it?"

...

they both break into laughter at that

.

.

.

Well?

What do yall think has the sisters in such good spirits? What kind of monster has MC created here? 👀

.

Thanks for your ask! ����

[kentwells]

I’d like “know exactly where this leads” bestie thank you!!!!!! Live laugh love ~clatoera

(I’d actually like ALL of them on that little Taylor Swift lyric list)

@clatoera for u :) this was hard but i missed writing these idiots

For all she’s heard about Clove, Cato’s partner is tiny. All of these kids carry weapons heavier than they are, but there are spears that are twice as tall as her. Her dark hair in an intricate braid down her back. When Cato points her out across the room, Arlene looks straight past Clove, sure that his partner must be someone else.

“Cato, go against the wall,” she calls in lieu of a greeting, pulling three knives from the colorful waistband of her leggings. Cato’s grin is brighter than she’s seen in years as he presses his back against the foam target wall. 

Mikhail nudges her, “No need to worry about this, hm?”

“He’s reckless, not suicidal,” Arlene whispers back. The younger years at the academy are all brute force, letting the kids run around as much as humanly possible. She’s seen Cato throw, it’s sweet in how terrible it is. She’s still laughing a bit about the pile of sweatpants that are nowhere near the laundry bin when she notices the knives, one just above each of Cato’s shoulders. Her heart drags out of her chest as the third flies right at his forehead, landing so close that she’s grateful for the academy mandated buzzcut. The sharp, silver knives line his body, but the grin hasn’t left his face. Her heart sinks as she watches Cato return Clove’s knives, holding them high above her head. 

He looks like a kid. He’s twice her size, holding knives above his head, but there’s no cruel gleam in his eye as he tugs on her braid. She knows exactly where this leads. 

+ 

“You may not recognize your children,” they told Arlene at orientation. She still recognizes Cato, though. Of course the boy who pushed kids off the monkey bars and got frustrated when he wasn’t the first one to finish a coloring page would end up in the Center. 

Cato comes home for four days in November, and even though Arlene recognizes the hard set of his jaw and Mikhail’s blond hair, he’s bigger every time. He was well past taller when they dropped him off at the academy, but by now, he’s the type of tall where he ducks slightly to cross through the door. Clove comes too, still tiny, in a sweatshirt that Arlene bought for Cato when he was little. 

She has a thousand questions for them. Are they quite this obvious when the trainers are around, are they being sent into the same games, where do they rank in their class? Instead, she kisses Cato on the cheek and sends them to the grocery store to restock. 

“I can help, Mrs. Hadley.” Clove says, as Arlene peels potatoes. She must see the apprehension on Arlene’s face, not quite willing to attach herself to this girl, because she immediately follows with “Just because Cato’s useless doesn’t mean we all are.”

Arlene is impulsive, she speaks without thinking. The regret is instant when she says “Arlene, not Mrs. Hadley,” and Clove cracks a quarter of a smile. 

Snow, is it obvious. The way Clove tucks herself into Cato’s side on the couch. His eyes don’t track her like a hunter’s should, instead watching her every movement with something unrecognizably light. When she finds Clove’s bra stuffed between the couch cushions, she tosses it into the wash before tucking it into Clove’s duffel bag.

It’s twenty-three to one that he dies, twenty-two to two that District 2 has a winner – she can pretend, for 2 hours, that she’s worried about Clove getting pregnant and not about Clove killing her son.

♡ taylor swift prompt list

[jumpywhumpywriter]

A Single Team Member Whumpee Tortured for Information part 1

Warnings: violent and intense torture whump, death, sacrifice, blood, pain, severe whump

PROMPT:

A whole team is captured but the captors are only interested in torturing just one of them. Over and over and over again. Thrown back to their team weak and terrified and dragged away again the next day.

The team is defiant and sure they'll escape. Every day that they see the whumpee returned, though, hurt worse? stumbling, crashing to the ground with shaking hands, coughing and wheezing, holding their injuries, flinching from touch more and more? The team loses their bravado and eventually begs for the whumpee to be left alone, denied by their captors every day.

MY WRITING:

Zara always came back with that same defiant grin, smothered in blood and bruises but showing through regardless. She was the most beaten of them all, yet her flame still burned brightest, even as she was taken away day after day to endure immense pain and suffering.

The captors were looking for an answer. One that would help them destroy a whole city and win the war they had waged against it in a single blow. A secret location to a hidden set of powerful explosives that was rumored to be in tunnels beneath the city somewhere. The captives had each been asked and threatened repeatedly in efforts to pry the answer from them, but the truth was that none of them knew. None of them... except Zara, apparently. Zara hadn't revealed it to her fellow captives until yesterday, shocking them all.

Her friends all pleaded with her to just give the captors what they wanted, end her suffering, just break this one time and get it over with, but she didn't. Day after day she'd return weaker, more injured, her voice hoarse and raw from screaming.

One of her friends asked why she still wouldn't talk, even through the pain, and she answered with a statement none of the other captives would ever forget. "The pain of one... is a small price to pay... to save the pain of the many," she had rasped in answer. Her friends had all hugged her and cried with her, sharing in her pain, letting her know they'd always be there for her.

But one day, Zara didn't return at the usual time. Her friends all grew anxious, some pacing, some staring numbly off into the distance... until finally, the door to their dank prison opened. But instead of Zara being tossed back in like a piece of roadkill, a burly guard stepped in, gesturing to the ragged group of captives.

Klyde, Zara's best friend, was first to reach the guard, staring straight into his face with the most vicious glare he could muster. "Where is she? What did you do to her?!" He demanded harshly. The guard merely raised an eyebrow at his boldness.

"You're about to find out, " The guard answered cryptically. "All of you are coming with me. Now." Zara's friends all filtered through the door as they were let out, with Klyde in the lead. Several other guards were waiting outside the room, escorting them down the halls until they reached another solid steel door.

The burly guard from before swiped a card on a reader and the door unlocked. As it swung open, Klyde couldn't help a shout of enraged fury mixed with anguish, his friends all having similar reactions as they were shoved into the room one by one, each being held roughly by a single guard.

Klyde struggled to free himself from the man holding him and rush to the back of the room, where a shivering body was chained, the chains being the only thing holding it up.

Covered in blood and open wounds, the person was almost unrecognizable, but upon hearing Klyde's angry voice, they perked up and lifted their drooping head, revealing Zara. Her breaths were wheezing and labored and her appearance haggard, but she was still alive. For now.

Suddenly, a tall man stepped into view from where he'd been leaning against a wall, coming to stand in front of Zara's broken body, facing her group of friends, who were all starved and malnourished. It was Jacob, the sadistic prick behind it all.

Jacob's harsh, critical gaze swept over them all, before he spoke, in a deep, authoritative voice. "It seems that your friend Zara is not willing to speak, despite all of our... persuasions. So, I have no choice but to turn to the rest of you for help locating the missing bombs. I know that at least one of you knows where they are hidden." He turned and mockingly grabbed Zara's chin, forcing her to show her battered face to her friends as she let out a weak groan.

"Get your filthy hands off her!" Klyde screeched, losing all composure.

Jacob looked amused by his reaction, letting Zara's head drop back against her chest. "One of you better start talking. Or your friend pays the price." Jacob drew a long hunting knife from his belt, one already covered in dried and fresh blood from days of torture. Klyde's eyes widened at it as he turned and pressed the tip against the sensitive skin right above Zara's sweaty, bloody collarbone. She flinched, and Klyde's heart twisted with anger.

"Just let her go! None of us know where they're hidden!" He cried. "Don't you think we'd have told you by now if we did?"

"I don't know. Zara here seems pretty unyielding. Who knows how good the rest of you are at staying silent under pressure," Jacob chuckled darkly. "Hopefully now you will have some stronger motivation. Without warning, he suddenly dug the blade into Zara's skin, and she cried out in pain, fresh blood dribbling down her side.

"No! Please, stop! You're going to kill her!" The guard holding Klyde grunted with effort as he took a blow to the chest from one of Klyde's desperately flailing fists.

Jacob only grinned cruelly. "She's not much use alive if she doesn't have information we need."

Zara's friends all exchanged identical horrified glances, all of their eyes filled with terror. They wished they could tell Jacob what he wanted to hear... but Zara had refused to tell them anything, knowing they'd be too soft-hearted to keep the secret if she were tortured. Zara was the only one with the answer.

Next ⏩️

Masterlist

[steviewashere]

Jump the Fence, I'll Meet You There

Rating: General CW: Vague Discussion of Death/Eddie Coming Back to the Living, Hospital Setting Tags: Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Lives, Love Confession For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking a leap."

💕—————💕

In truth, no love story has a happy ending. It’s bittersweet, the nature of loving things. Material objects will become lost to time. And people—characters and those that are real—pass bloody or peacefully, sated and howling in pain, crumpled or stock still like planks of wood. What matters in the midst of saying goodbye and caressing their cheek, is if the time leading to that point was worthwhile. Which, in the curiosity of love, it has to have been—you saw into the depths of their soul, what scared them, if they feared the dawn of man and soft glow of the moon; you laid bare naked, hand in hand, seduced by eyes alone, and you promised forever between kisses. What’s more romantic than that? What’s more romantic than seeing them to the end?

But what’s more romantic than welcoming them back? Finding them amongst the rubble? Guiding them back to their chair, tucking the blanket around their lap, squeezing their hands? What’s more romantic than existing?

March of 1986 brought terror, blood, heartbreak, grief, and dirt to the shaking hands of Hawkins. There was war and loss. Sobs and bated breath. But, somehow in it all, there was the most important thing: love. The four letters that allowed wounds to be stitched and panic attacks to be had and hands to be held. 

Edward—Eddie, as he likes to be called—Munson was born into a misfortunate family. It seemed that if something bad could happen, then it would happen. And it didn’t have to be insurmountable, almost unbelievable things—but, they were. And they happened. And it’s followed Eddie to the edge of Mordor. He’s an only child with ten cousins all around. A couple loose ended aunts and one reserved uncle. Dad who liked crime and money and drugs. Mom who liked warmth and a full house and her bluegrass music. Tennessee born, Indiana raised. He had his dysfunctional family. Watched his dad get carted off to jail more times than the amount of fingers on his hands. Was there when his mom grew dark-circled, blood vessel-bursted, and gaunt; was even there to kiss her nose and pet her back as she dissipated to somewhere great beyond in front of his very eyes. So, he knows hardships. He knows misfortune. And he knows that whatever fate the gods had given him, it was going to be dying in the face of a herd of unrecognizable things, blood soaked, open wounds, and drifting.

But then he wakes up. He wakes up, eyes bleary, choking on a tube, shaved head, and patchwork scars crafted from skin grafts and dark sutured stitches. He’s a hideous, pink and purple and painful mess. And he’s alive. God, he’s alive.

There’s people. Lots of visitors. Handfuls of cards. Thousands of rose petals. The most important attribute to his waking existence, though, is Steve Harrington at his bedside.

They had met many years ago. Well, as many as three, but in the face of grave danger and sacrifices, it’s almost three entire lifetimes. Steve was hankering for weed, to which Eddie could supply. He was beaten swollen and nauseous from the pain. And Eddie had cut him a deal, “You tell your buddies to lay off of me and I’ll give you a week’s worth for only five bucks. You’re ripping me off, but you obviously need something. Something that nobody else is giving you.”

It was barely anything, though. And at the near-end of the world, they still barely knew each other. Yes, Steve is a good person. A good guy. Yes, he’s magnificent and teasing and bitchy and pretty. Yes, he’s everything that Eddie hoped he’d be. But that still doesn’t explain why Steve is here. At all. Why should he be here? Shouldn’t he be at home, cuddled up to Nancy Wheeler (his ex turned girlfriend?), sharing a bottle of rose, watching some stupid little soap opera? What is this?

“‘Teve? Wh’t you doin’ ‘ere?” He mumbles, voice rough and syrupy from that stupid tube. His hand fumbles on the hospital bed mattress, fingers barely brushing Steve’s, probably cold.

Steve moves closer and pets over the crest of Eddie’s skull. “Waiting for you to wake up,” he whispers, “making sure you make it back to us.”

“‘M ‘ere, ‘teve. ‘M ‘ere.”

“I know,” Steve murmurs. “You gotta stay here, you hear me? No more—No more being a hero. No more of that, you understand? I—No more going somewhere we can’t find you.”

Eddie wants to roll his eyes. Romantic, Steve’s just a romantic. He flirts with life. He’d kiss God’s knuckles if he could. But the way his hand caresses, soft over what remains of Eddie’s hair, all of Eddie folds like batter. “Found me?” His voice lilts.

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. “And—God, Eddie, I gotta admit that you scared me.”

“Why?”

“Why?!” Steve exclaims, though soft. His face is extremely close to Eddie’s, voice traveling to Eddie’s ears like early spring breezes. The hand on his hair travels down to his uninjured cheek. There’s a thumb sweeping under his eye. “Because we almost lost you. You were—All you did was look at me, so far away from me. I carried you outta hell and I thought you were already gone. Eddie, I almost lost you.”

Eddie sighs. The strength to talk comes back ten fold, though his voice is still rough. “What’s it matter to you? We don’t know each other.”

He startles away from Eddie a little bit. Wounded, offended. Then, he softens. “We don’t,” he agrees. “But I want to know you. You ever think about that? Like…We can be friends. We can be friends and hang out and watch movies and you can critique my taste in music or something. And I—I don’t know what I’m feeling, Eddie. All I know is that I want to…”

Settling into the hold Steve still has on his face, Eddie sighs once more. Though softly. Enamored, nearly. “To?” He prods.

“Love you, I don’t know,” Steve whispers. “Is that—That’s a lot, I’m sorry. But I’m so afraid right now, Eddie. I’m so scared you’ll be gone. That I’ll wake up back in my bedroom and I’ll still be covered in blood and you won’t be here.” Something changes in Steve’s face. Where he’d previously been soft lines and small grin, he’s now wet eyes and crinkles and wobbling lip. He swallows audibly. His breath is leaving him stuttered little puffs. He’s falling apart right in front of Eddie’s eyes. This shouldn’t be allowed.

“Hey,” Eddie softly calls. “Hey, I’m here, Steve. I’m right here.” He places his own palm over the back of Steve’s. From where their touch melds together, Eddie notices Steve's shaking. He’s…God, he’s actually terrified. Eddie wants to coo and hold him close, wants to smooth down his hair and whisper reassuring things. But he’s tired. And Steve is holding on so tightly, yet so hesitantly, Eddie knows that they have each other. “You feel that? You feel me right there?” Steve nods. “That means I’m here. You got me, okay? You don’t need to be scared.”

Trembling, Steve confesses, “I love you." He takes a deep breath. “I love you and it’s strange because I barely know you, but it’s like I should. Like I’ve known you before. Is that weird? Am I freaking you out? I’ll shut up now.”

Eddie’s thumb strokes the warm skin of Steve’s hand. He smiles gently, half of a thing, his other cheek remaining still with the stretch of his new scar. “It’s not weird, but let me web back into the land of the living, alright? Give me a little time. Wait for me. I’ll be here, okay? And you’re gonna be here when I’m ready.” Steve nods again. His hands, god his hands are holding Eddie as if he may fall through the floor.

His eyes are shiny. And his hair is limp, but all the same level of glorious as it usually is. All percolating tears and trembling breath. If this is what it’s like to be loved by Steve, then Eddie will welcome it. He’ll welcome it and welcome it and welcome it until they’re grey on the head, wrinkled and spotted, soft-tummied, and sleepy.

When he’s ready. He’ll have to meet Steve where he jumped to, but Eddie won’t mind. He won’t. He’s half-way to something, he’s sure, but he needs rest. And Steve, kind and understanding, unwavering in Eddie’s sight.

“When I’m ready, Stevie. When I’m ready, I’ll come running to you. I ain’t running away from this.”

💕—————💕

[scoops404]

As a self-proclaimed Scoops connoisseur (I don't get paid nor am I certified I'm just weird about her works), you're good at writing stories with set endings

I know that's confusing but let me explain.

If you're writing the miscommunication trope, you almost have to write the part where they communicate. It's written into the "laws" of the trope, so, when a lone Scoops chooses to write miscommunication, it always goes well. Same thing with identity reveals, heat fics, friends to lovers, because we know how it will start and how it will end (they won't know, won't believe, or won't understand, but by the end, they will).

Scoops flourishes with these tropes because she has an incredible understanding of Freytag's Pyramid (the beginning, rising action, climax, falling action, resolution thing). In every one of her works, you will be able to pinpoint the beginning, the climax, and the resolution. Heck, in every single chapter, you will be able to pinpoint these elements.

She knows how to wield tension like a swordsman with a blade, which is one of the reasons I admire her as a writer (also bc she's cool but shush ignore that).

She, of course, can write fics that don't have set endings. I was extremely impressed with Hits Different for that reason because college AU and stepbros don't necessarily have normal set endings. But, she did a magnificent job navigating that and creating her own ending. And I have faith she will be able to continue this trend, even though it's outside her norm.

Moreover, she often adds twists to stories with set parameters. JOT was FWB to lovers, but it started with George being on the outside of established FWBs that didn't become lovers. Anagorisis was a Mpreg fic where George didn't realize he was pregnant for HALF of it. And, of course, the abortion fic has a "side" character (so sorry Sapnap) getting the abortion while DNF watches along the outside and have their story.

So, what is a trope that reminds me of Scoop? Any with a set parameter, because then I know that, if Scoops gets her hands on it, I'm about to cry my eyes out into a pillow and save it to my bookmarks.

Anyway, hugs!

-Rei

Hi Rei,

This is incredibly kind and generous. I think I have a good sense of where the story is going even as I start writing it -> easier to get to a satisfying ending that way (and I think part of the reason I'm strugglig with original fiction right now). I don't sit down and write out the beats of the entire story before i write it, but I like to know generally where it's going, and yeah, a big part of that is to make sure I'm doing justice to the trope. For example, with mpreg, it's about the birth, yeah, but it's also about becoming a true family in whatever way works for the story.

I have internalized the rising action, climax--I used to be really bad about resolution and endings... every story (espppppecially the long fics) need some kind of "after" and for the audience to see not only how the characters are changed, but a snapshot of how it will be moving forward and they're meant to extrapolate from there that the characters will be okay. Unless it's an angsty fic and then.. i dunno..i don't write those lol

I do like to add twists, I think that's what makes fanfiction so fun for me. I like taking a classic trope and changing it just slightly, but not enough that it's not unrecognizeable. I like walking up to the line and sometimes putting a toe across it without going so far out of it that it's unbelievable or too out of character.

I've been doing some self-reflection and, yeah, I don't think i have any set tropes (aside from mpreg i guess because my merlin fic has an mpreg twist too), other than that I'll take whatever the prompt is and turn it on its head just to see what happens.

Thanks for being so sweet, Rei! This was a fun read :D

[pespillo]

Hey im very curious how do you recommend to start an au?, i know that you are not a teacher and that but i really like your acolyte au, thanks if you answer this!!!

this is kind of like asking How to play Tuoys because i mean i dont think theres really a Wrong way to write an au , its just a matter of what prompts you to it n how far you wanna take it !!

i think its always good to start small, pose yourself a question, usually Alternate Universes tend to come from simply moving a few pieces around n following where they would logistically fall into a timeline given, example: What would happen if King´s birth place was not found by Eda first? -> what would the other characters do in this situation giving in the context? -> what would change about their motives and personalities?

also an AU differs from simply being a canon compliant fanfiction because youre usually changing up either roles of the characters, or putting them in a different context (aka AU everyone is in space,everyone is a human,everyone is a warrior cat etc etc), or changing an event drastically enough you would notice it. Sometimes AUs are great places to start when you want to explore a concept you were always thinking about in an original story but have a hard time picturing how it would play out from beginning to end (working on Acolyte AU has helped me push my ocs thru the cogs more)

some people like their AUs in a clean timely manner, theyll start from the begginning and work thru it event to event and scene to scene, they can write it or they can draw it, some make askblogs too !

im more of a guy where i work on whatever scene and event interests me and i figure out thru the moment taking in mind what ive already worked in before, i jump around in the timeline, i dont want to really write it chapter by chapter because it feels tedious to my workflow, i dont want to Plan around it because this is something i draw for my own entertainment, im not looking to sell anything or like this could be logistically read as a fan-series of the og, its more about a collection of vignettes into my own lil reinterpretation with the things i Like.

i hope this helped a bit , i mean as i said, its really hard to mess up, i mean i cant even judge anyone who pushes an AU to the point every character is unrecognizable from the original, because there is always fun in thinking what if literally everything was pushed out of bounds of where it started, or make One character just completely offrails, it can be really funny. Though i will say , exercise a bit of caution whenever you push anything as a "rewrite" of something, do this because its fun to you, not because you wanna "prove" to anyone in the fandom "how good " you are at something or making something you perceive as a flaw "better", people can shoot down your expectations or give you feedback you dont really look for n you open yourself to unnecessary comparisons, just saying, its a tough world out there.

good luck!

[mareenavee]

This Had Once Been Called Peace

Hello everyone <3 I've been BUSY BUSY writing lol. This was a prompt fill for an event, and this was a mod challenge. @paraparadigm threw me this:

The Prompt:

An encounter between two entities that defies the parameters of each entity's understanding and fails in the translation; written in omniscient or loose 3rd person limited (american transparent, to use Neil Gaiman's term) => cannot be tight third or first person or second person.

And I came up with an AU where my OC, Eris Oreyn, does not wake up from a stasis Falion placed him under in a time of chaos. :> It was fun working with this weird voicing and developing a lore character as well. I hope you enjoy! It's a bit shippy. :>

~*~

This Had Once Been Called Peace

Eris had been sleeping for time now out of mind, not that he had bothered to count the hours, days, weeks. Even years, if he’d been that unlucky—and he likely was. He remembered a stretch of sunlight before this, its light searing into his skin and burning his one good eye before the mists of Morthal kept him hidden and kept the hunger at bay. Though he was not awake, he was prone to wandering, but if you asked him, he would not be able to explain how. Or further—why. Only that he’d felt a kind of severing from himself, and all that had plagued him in the time before was left behind in his coffin.

He would rather have decomposed and become part of the loam under the banks of fog and mess of swamp water. Only, that had ceased to be an option long ago. That was the burden of running; one never could stay in place long enough to procure a potion to cure the diseases one picked up from fighting vermin. Or see a healer. A priest. Anything. At the moment, his hunger was gone, and that was something.

When he was freed from the prison of his blood-starved body, he wandered, the world shifting beneath his feet to become less and less recognizable. It was as if the realm was trying to become that which he would normally be terrified of—but the stasis had pulled fear from him, too. The nightmares had, at first, been of tearing flesh from bone, of skin and veins split wide open, blood running in rivulets, his own hands unrecognizable under vast amounts of viscera. Eris supposed that was the way of things, vampires being what they are, and after a time, even this ceased to affect him. After that, he stood idly by and watched a thousand iterations of Nyenna’s death. Oddly, mostly these ended in dragonfire. He was not sure why, but could not muster the energy to enquire. Nor could he figure out exactly who to ask.

The answer to that question came after he had wandered far enough away that he could not quite find his way back to his body. Not that he wanted to return—it simply seemed the thing to do. -> Read the rest on AO3.

[xx-blueboy-xx]

Day Three: You Crack Me Up! | Goretober 2023 Prompt List!

CW: Body Horror, Violence + Gore  Words: 686

Gabriel hissed as he felt something slide against his grace, attempting to wrap around it and pull it from his vessel. He slashed through the invisible force without a thought, and his eyes blazed with a cold-thunderous wrath. The whiskey color was melting into a molten gold, as he glared at the demon before him. His vessel was already throbbing from all of the softly glowing nicks and cuts in his body. He flips his angel blade around in his grip, the weapon vanishing from sight. He was getting low on grace, and he was fed up with this fight. He could see just out of the corner of his eyes, the two Winchesters finishing off the demons they were fighting against. 

“Do you know how long I have inhabited this vessel?” he snarls at the demon, who basically only replies with an inhuman growl flipping the sharp-bone like dagger they hold in their hand. He can see its writhing true form beneath the flesh of what appeared to be a middle-aged soccer mom. He could see the swirling smoke consistency of it, and how a flickering tail and tall-ugly horn spiraled up. It wasn’t even a fun looking demon. Gabriel has memories, centuries old and the edges crinkled with a soft golden nostalgia as they slide across the front of his mind. His boiling rage mounting further. He was tired and hungry. He hated demons on the best of days, but trying to pull him from his vessel? That crossed a line. The man had been French, and he hadn’t been particularly religious, it just so happened he was descended from a long-long line of vessels. Who were religious nutjobs in their own right. He had hardly ever prayed a single day. It just so happens, that, when Gabriel finally left Heaven - he did. He had begged for something to save his wife and child, she was dying during childbirth, and so was the kid. That he would give anything away. 

And Gabriel answered. They struck a  deal - he kept his end of the bargain, healing his wife and child, who went on to have long-happy lives. Though, she never remarried swearing that she saw her husband - an angel - saving her life. He allowed the man to live out his best life within his own mind, until his soul was burned away from the sheer strength of Gabriel’s grace. For centuries it has just been him. Yet. That was one of the key moments where he fell in love with humanity, and he would not let that be taken from him. Ever. 

He groans and rubs at the bridge of his nose, as the air around him crackles with dangerous energy. “You know, this is getting tiresome. Let’s end this.” 

The demon gives him a wide toothy grin, “Gladly-!” 

They lunge for him and he snaps his fingers. Rather than vanishing into red mist as Sam and Dean expected who were both watching keenly, the demon froze. A strange golden glow began to emit from the center of its chest, and its face contorted with a silent scream. From this light, suddenly, vicious cracks began to form along the body of the demon, blood gushing from them. It was as if they were being carved with a skilled hand, an invisible knife tracing veins. Muscle and bone were revealed as some of these cracks widened, soaking the demon. They writhed with silent agony, tears flowing down their face. Unable to scream, and for that - the hunters were grateful. It looked as if they were made of porcelain and had been dropped, as their clothing was torn to shreds and so was their body. 

Then, the light flickered out and sliding apart, string-and goo like blood between the pieces, the demon fell to the floor. Utterly demolished and nearly unrecognizable. Gabriel closed his eyes and took a deep trembling breath, feeling his wrath slowly ebb away. Satisfied. He claps his hands together shattering the tension in the room with a wide grin, turning to the two pale and stunned humans. 

“Alright! Who is down for burgers?” 

[themculibrary]

Fluff Masterlist 2

part one

Action (ao3) - EmilyWeaslette mj/peter N/R, 95k

Summary: Peter stepping into the limelight, as seen through videos.

a kiss a day (anything for kate bishop) (ao3) - dare121 yelena/kate T, 49k

Summary: Adjusting her fake glasses, Kate moves in the direction of the nearest painting and settles herself in front of it, doing her best to look like she’s taking notes on the notepad in her hands. The lanyard around her neck swings uncomfortably close to the rope that separates herself from the art on display as she tries to take in her surroundings at the same time. She only spares a glance at the picture, and squints at the three alien creatures on it that mostly resemble common house cats, while being just off enough to unnerve the observer.

have a seat, dad (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor harley/peter G, 1k

Summary: Peter tells Tony that he's going to be a grandpa.

Hello Midtown High (ao3) - AmyR G, 20k

Summary: This is basically domestic Avengers and Peter Parker, with a slight smattering of the Field Trip trope thrown in. It's really just domestic Avengers though.

History's Gayer Than You Think (Or So MJ Says) (ao3) - lattely (orphan_account) steve/bucky T, 4k

Summary: Peter Parker has never witnessed a proposal. Until one day, he finds himself inches away from history building itself with the help of a ring box, when all he was up for was watching a movie.

just know you're not alone (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor tony/sam T, 10k

Summary: Tony was settling into his new life being an Avenger. Everything was going fine, great even, and then suddenly a kid was thrown into the picture. Peter Parker becomes Tony’s world, and he’s doing everything he can to keep his son out of the spotlight. Unfortunately, some things don’t always go to plan. But would it really be such a bad thing if his fellow Avengers found out about his son?

Kissblocked! (ao3) - impravidus harley/peter G, 4k

Summary: 5 times harley was interrupted trying to kiss peter for the first time and the 1 time he wasn't (and was)

NOT Just Married (ao3) - relenafanel steve/bucky M, 7k

Summary: Also known as the feel-good fluffy ficlet relenafanel promised after the end-credit scene of new Bucky feels from hell... Because I have your back and know you need recovery comedic AUs about BFFs being dumb in Vegas.

perfectly right wrong number (ao3) - melonbutterfly steve/bucky T, 31k

Summary: It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

Peter Parker's Home for the Wayward Villain (ao3) - BeanieBaby peter/wade, steve/bucky, pepper/tony T, 90k

Summary: A really long redemption story.

research and disaster (ao3) - blueh T, 9k

Summary: the interns at Stark Industries have some questions about Peter Parker. The answers aren’t quite what they expect.

Say You Don't Know Me (or Recognize My Face) (ao3) - ShowMeAHero matt/foggy G, 2k

Summary: Daredevil is kind of dark and broody. He doesn't want anyone to know his real name, he never smiles, and he has kind of a loner attitude.

Matt Murdock, on the other hand, is completely unrecognizable to Jessica the first time she really sees him.

The Great Disney Marathon (ao3) - MisguidedFeelingsofaDreamWeaver30 steve/natasha, scott/hope, gamora/peter, pepper/tony T, 26k

Summary: The Avengers embark on a mission: The Great Disney Marathon. As they watch, they find themselves comparing their lives to the animated stories onscreen.

Inspired by the many parallels between Marvel and Disney.

Prompts filled: Domestic Avengers, Romanogers, Peter Parker, Tony Stark

The Less You Know (ao3) - Nokomis G, 3k

Summary: Peter comes to regret telling the Avengers about the Captain America PSAs.

This Wasn't What the Brochure Promised (ao3) - kahn steve/tony T, 7k

Summary: "Do you think this is still a training exercise, or did we just get our asses handed to us by actual bad guys?" asked Clint.

Tony, Steve, Clint and Bruce spend quality time together in a cave. Tony does not build another arc reactor (even if he sort of needs one). Steve is all Protective Leader. Clint is terrifyingly good with a knife. Bruce bleeds and snarks. There is banter and embarassing amounts of schmoop and the boys get very touchy-feely.

Three Men in a VW (ao3) - Brokenpitchpipe steve/bucky T, 3k

Summary: Steve steps back into the car and closes the door, lips still tingling.

“You don’t like blondes,” Bucky says.

Sam chokes.

who's the kid? (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor N/R, 2k

Summary: The Avengers arrive back at the tower after everything that's happened with the Sokovia Accords. They expect everything to be the same, but it's not. Now there's a kid living at the tower and the Avengers think he's more than just Tony's "personal assistant". Natasha and Wanda are determined to find out the truth.

[digitalmediafundamentals]

AI Fundamentals

Working with Matt to make some incredible AI stuff is just so much fun! Here is my presentation and planning video for the AI dream.

The script for the dream video:

Black zooming misty area into a store front that is a mix of walmart, Fry’s, and food city. 

Walking into the back realizing you aren’t supposed to be there and remembering where you’re supposed to be.

Wait I’m not supposed to be here.

Yeah we can go get the milk and-

Being dragged into an area that vaguely looks like Cambridge only to be dropped back into the store.

The area flashes in and out between being a store and an airplane.

Sitting on the plane as the clouds roll by and then falling out of the plane.

Gravity moves side ways as you hold yourself up at an angle.

Walking through the meat aisle as the area turns into the garden area which looks like the fields.

I missed this.

Grabbing and looking up at a plant only to be at parkers under the tree laying down.

Airplane scene again but this time it’s the floor of the plane as you’re looking down at your feet in parkers.

The floor goes away and you fall.

Blink.

I LOVED DEVELOPING THIS VIDEO!!!! 

Using AI to make my dreams come into reality is sooooooo crazy but, I loved every moment of it even the waiting process for the AI to process the prompt. 

Now the first step I took was to take photos and to make paintings of things that I couldn’t take pictures of that being the portal at the very start of the video. After that I edited the pictures all in photoshop to give them that blurry dream like appearance and then from there I took them and merged a couple to together to get a really nice combination of the scenes so it’s just barely unrecognizable. Once that was all done I started putting the images through adobefirefly to get the look I wanted from them. Some of the pictures I ended up staying with the original because firefly would change the scene a bit to much sometimes. From there depending on the effect I wanted for the scene I would either use Runway, Deforum, or Pika Labs. each of these programs have their own touch and they really helped make certain moments pop!

 If I just needed things to change Runway was perfect. If I needed the whole scene to move Deforum was the go-to. If I just wanted to move the camera through the scene Pika is great for that! Each of these programs has helped me convey almost exactly what my dream was like and that is PHENOMENAL!

Also, I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to make a good portal so I used Bruno Bucciarati's zipper portal from JoJo's bizarre adventure as a reference.

Anyways

After all of the prompting and re-prompting, I was finally able to get the videos I needed. I then added everything into Flimora and used some of the preset transitions to give the proper effect for each scene and transition between dream sections. 

After all of that I recorded the few lines of dialogue I remember from the dream and added somefitting music from acouple of the Youtube videos I normally listen to the sleep to. A bit of a personal touch. 

And here is the final product!

I will say if I were to do something like this again I would first like to train the AI a bit more and then get into it. Just going full force was a bit difficult and there was a lot of prompting especially with Firefly. All in all, though I really enjoyed this project and I hope you can enjoy the video of my dream made by me and a couple of Artificially intelligent friends!

[webncontent]

AI Fundamentals

Working with Matt to make some incredible AI stuff is just so much fun! Here is my presentation and planning video for the AI dream.

The script for the dream video:

Black zooming misty area into a store front that is a mix of walmart, Fry’s, and food city. 

Walking into the back realizing you aren’t supposed to be there and remembering where you’re supposed to be.

Wait I’m not supposed to be here.

Yeah we can go get the milk and-

Being dragged into an area that vaguely looks like Cambridge only to be dropped back into the store.

The area flashes in and out between being a store and an airplane.

Sitting on the plane as the clouds roll by and then falling out of the plane.

Gravity moves side ways as you hold yourself up at an angle.

Walking through the meat aisle as the area turns into the garden area which looks like the fields.

I missed this.

Grabbing and looking up at a plant only to be at parkers under the tree laying down.

Airplane scene again but this time it’s the floor of the plane as you’re looking down at your feet in parkers.

The floor goes away and you fall.

Blink.

I LOVED DEVELOPING THIS VIDEO!!!! 

Using AI to make my dreams come into reality is sooooooo crazy but, I loved every moment of it even the waiting process for the AI to process the prompt. 

Now the first step I took was to take photos and to make paintings of things that I couldn’t take pictures of that being the portal at the very start of the video. After that I edited the pictures all in photoshop to give them that blurry dream like appearance and then from there I took them and merged a couple to together to get a really nice combination of the scenes so it’s just barely unrecognizable. Once that was all done I started putting the images through adobefirefly to get the look I wanted from them. Some of the pictures I ended up staying with the original because firefly would change the scene a bit to much sometimes. From there depending on the effect I wanted for the scene I would either use Runway, Deforum, or Pika Labs. each of these programs have their own touch and they really helped make certain moments pop!

 If I just needed things to change Runway was perfect. If I needed the whole scene to move Deforum was the go to. If I just wanted to move the camera through the scene Pika is great for that! Each of this programs has helped me convey almost exactly what my dream was like and that is PHENOMENAL!

BTW I couldn't figure out how to make a portal so I used Bruno bucciarati's zipper portal from jojo as a reference.

anyways

After all of the prompting and re-prompting, I was finally able to get the videos I needed. I then added everything into Flimora and used some of the preset transitions to give the proper effect for each scene and transition between dream sections. 

After all of that I recorded the few lines of dialogue I remember from the dream and added somefitting music from acouple of the Youtube videos I normally listen to the sleep to. A bit of a personal touch. 

And here is the final product!

I will say if I were to do something like this again I would first like to train the AI a bit more and then get into it. Just going full force was a bit difficult and there was a lot of prompting especially with Firefly. All in all, though I really enjoyed this project and I hope you can enjoy the video of my dream made by me and a couple of Artificially intelligent friends!

[chizue-witchery]

⚜️. *. ⋆ Fandom: Original Work

⚜️. *. ⋆ Character/s: Original Female Character

⚜️. *. ⋆ Summary: Natalia sees the bite mark the zombie had left on her while was distracted.

She feels the fear coursing through her veins, already knowing what her fate is.

⚜️. *. ⋆ Word Count: 802

⚜️. *. ⋆ Warnings/Tags: zombie apocalypse, angst, hurt No comfort, blood and injury, mental breakdown, suicidal thoughts

⚜️. *. ⋆ Prompts/Squares Filled: Infection || @whumptober

Whumptober2023 Masterlist

AO3

A/N: here's a little something to show what happened on journal entry #200. i apologize if they're mostly from what happened during the journal entires, but i currently can't think of a continuation of what happens afterwards.

Natalia breathes heavily, her shoulders going up and down as she continues to breathe heavily while the grip on her axe tightens. She ignores the stinging pain from her hand, blood flowing down as it drips on the floor.

Drip, drip, drip…

It echoes in the quiet room, the only noise heard is Natalia's heavy breathing as she stares at the zombie corpse that had been massacred by her until it's unrecognizable. She felt no remorse for it, not caring that it used to be a human being.

That thing ruined her life and there's nothing she can do to stop it.

As if she's out of the trance, Natalia immediately drops the axe and she lifts her hand, her worst fears coming true when she sees the bite mark the zombie had left on her while she was distracted. Her skin pales and her hand suddenly starts trembling out of her own free will. She feels the fear coursing through her veins, already knowing what her fate is.

Time is running out on her end, never knowing how long it will take until she gets turned into like those mindless zombies. Natalia knows she doesn't have much time and that scares her. She had always thought she had enough time to do all the things she wanted to do before she died, but that's not the case for her.

She won't have enough time to see the kids grow up to be wonderful people.

She won't have enough time to spend the rest of her life with Anika or tell her how much she loves her.

She won't have time to put a ring on Anika's finger or make plans for their wedding. She won't be able to see Anika walk down the aisle nor will she be able to call Anika her wife.

Natalia takes gulps of air, trying her best to calm herself down before she goes into a panic attack, tears pricking her eyes. She makes her trembling hands form in a fist a couple times, trying to get herself to focus more on the nails digging into her skins but the longer she ignores the bite, the more it might get infected.

But she also can't not think about the bite that's already ruining her from the inside every second that passes, wondering what it's doing to her cells and organs. The longer she stares at the wound, the more she could hear it taunting her; taunting that she's going to become the very thing she hates: a zombie.

Natalia breathes slowly, not wanting for herself to panic even more considering that she's still in an unsafe area, the possibilities of more zombies in the building increasing since the zombie that bit her was still here even though she had been told it's empty. She doesn't know how long she has before she encounters another zombie or it will find her.

So Natalia drops her bag to the ground and opens it to grab the medkit. She grabs a small towel and wipes the blood away from her entire arm, then she takes the rubbing alcohol and pours some of it on the bite, hissing in pain when the alcohol comes in contact with the wound. Afterwards, Natalia grabs the roll of bandages and wraps it tightly around her hand, adding as many layers as possible. She ties the bandages tightly so it doesn't fall off when she least expects it to.

Natalia now looks at her bandaged hand, slowly opening and closing it. She could feel a stinging pain from it, but she can manage until she returns back to the base. She looks at the axe, her gaze lingering for a moment as she contemplates about something before she shakes her head. She places everything back in the medkit and puts it back inside the backpack as she closes it. Natalia grabs her water jug and drinks water, licking her dry lips afterwards.

"No one can know about this…" whispered Natalia to herself, eyes wide and haunted at the idea of getting kicked out once they find out she has been infected. She'll only keep it a secret if—when she's ready to tell them.

Natalia will have to keep this a secret from Anika, as much as it hurts to lie to her when all Anika has been is being honest to her. But she has no other choice, she wouldn't be able to stand seeing her expression when she finds out.

Natalia grabs the backpack and slings it to her shoulder. She then grabs the axe she dropped earlier, her gaze lingering at the bit of the axe—then she shakes her head, cursing at herself for having that idea as she carries on moving to the next room to scavenge for supplies.