#i will NEVER write a fighting scene again in my future fics

[sillyfriendssharingablog]

UPDATE FOR THE FIC!!!!!!!!!!!

for anyone who cares

so basically i've got everything ready. all the scenes are done even the finale. My problem comes with the fight with that bitchass Snake because I suck ass at writing fighting scenes so I just...left it there for me to finish later. HOPEFULLY for the next week it'll be ready.

I really do not wanna dissapoint you guys with the ending of my "masterpiece" so I rlly hope you'll like it!! (if you haven't stopped carying about it after not seeing it updated for s long)

sorry guys for making yall wait so long :(

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Hey I have a request!!

Capitol!Reader is from a rich and wealthy family which makes her an eligible wife for Snow who is in his second year as president which makes him 24. Reader is just about to turn 18 and she’s still in the academy. She’s being forced into a marriage the moment she is of age (18) but she very much dislikes Coriolanus. She is forced to hang out with him but she is sometimes a brat to him because she loathes him, she does not love him. The day she turns 18, Snow waits outside of the academy for her with white roses but she gets furious that he’s at her school infront of everyone and everyone now knows that they sale courting each other. She causes a scene (up to you what happens) and snow becomes incredibly mad at her. Honestly would love to see dark!coriolanus.

Thank you! Btw I love your fics sm 😭 I’ve been here since you started writing house of the dragon fics!

Fallen Roses || Young President! Coriolanus Snow x Capitol!Reader

A/n: Thank you so much for this request! And thank you for sticking with me through my changes 😂

Warnings: possessive snow?

Wc:

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“He’s in his second year as President, and he needs a wife. You are perfect for it, y/n.” Your mothers whispers harshly to you as you sat there, arms crossed, looking to the side. You had been called out of High Biology and into Dr. Gaul's office.

"I don't want to be his wife! I don't even know him!" You argue back to your mother as her face stiffens and her eyes darken. You gulp. "Listen here, daughter. When you turn 18 in a couple of days, you will marry President Snow whether you like it or not. You will have the honor of becoming the First Lady of Panem. Be grateful that you have this opportunity. Do not ruin this for us!" Your mother fires back.

Dr. Gaul sits across the desk from the two of you, watching as mother and daughter fight. "There is something you must understand Miss Y/L/N, Coriolanus Snow picked you himself to be his wife. That is the most highest honour he could ever give. You will live in the Presidential Mansion with him, not lift a single finger, and bask in your riches-" You loudly scoff.

"Hell sounds better than that," You spat in annoyance as you could see your mother shooting daggers your way from your peripheral vision. That was not the life that you wanted to have for yourself in the future. Your life right now was worse. You hated being the centre of attention; although that could never be avoided due to your high status, your parents, and your enormous wealth.

You were grateful without a doubt, but you'd rather give away your riches to people who actually needed it. You hated being forced into events, wearing outfits that were far too uncomfortable, making conversation about the weather and whatnot. It was not your cup of tea even though you were brought up with this kind of lifestyle your entire life. The thought of doing that all over again but as the second most important person in all of Panem? That would be absolute torture.

Dr. Gaul sighs, looking at your mother before closing her mouth again. You liked to argue and shut people up, and you were pretty darn good at it. "President Snow will be here shortly to meet you. I hope you show him the respect that he well deserves." She gives you a knowing look as you roll your eyes.

"Great," You mutter under your breath. The three of your all sat in his office in silence for a few minutes before the door opened behind you. Your mother and Dr. Gaul stand up to greet the President as you stayed sitting, staring at the wall behind Dr. Gaul.

"President Snow," Your mother greets him in her sickly fake voice that you hear every time you are at social events. "Coraline, lovely to see you again," You hear him say as you feel him move closer to you and your mother as he kisses her cheek.

"Dr. Gaul, always lovely to see you," He shakes her hand, "As to you Mr. Snow," She chuckles. Then it was silent. You were still sat in your seat. You could tell Snow was staring at you. "Y/n, it's lovely to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you." You lightly chuckle, turning your head to look up at him.

"Wish I could say the same," You remark, "Now can I leave? I really don't want to be missing out on the lesson," Your eyes move to your mother and Dr. Gaul. "Your schedule has been cleared for the whole day Miss Y/l/n, you will instead, accompany President Snow to his home," Dr. Gaul exaplains.

"What?" You sit up in your seat, hands gripping the arms tightly as they turn white. "You want me to be alone with him?" "You're going to have to get used to it, sweetheart." Snow chuckles behind you as you grip the arms even tighter, your knuckles turning white. "Y/n." Your mother sternly says as you let out a sigh from your nose.

"This is ridiculous, you can't force me into this!" You yell at your mother, "She can't. But I most certainly can. Now shall we?" Snow offers his arm as you stare at him in disbelief. You abruptly stand up making the chair screech against the floor and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Your heals click on the marble floor as you quickly leave the room. "I knew I would like her," Snow comments making your mother turn a slight colour of red from embarrassment. Students were still in their classrooms. The last thing you wanted was even more attention from everyone when they see you and the President together.

You make a sharp turn from the usual route to outside. "Where are you going?" Snow calls out as you turn to him, "Like hell I'm letting other people see me with you, alone." You cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him. He stands there, hands tucked into his jacket as he looks down, chuckling.

"Like I said, sweetheart, you're going to have to get used to it. You will be Panem's First Lady after all." He tilts his head at you. You kiss your teeth, letting your arms fall to your sides. "Yeah well I want to savour the final last moments of my freedom, so let me, yeah?" And with that you turn around disappearing from sight.

~

For the next couple of days, you had been forced into hanging out with Coriolanus. Whether it be having a meal with him in the presidential mansion, or him accompanying you as you are forced to go shopping for even more clothes. You had slightly warmed up to him, he could tell. But your disapproval of the whole situation was still there. Your attitude towards him was a clear give away.

Coriolanus quite enjoys your witty remarks. It entices him. Part of the reason as to why he picked you was that you hated your lifestyle and knew you had quite the tongue. He figured you were entertaining to tease. And of course, he found you the prettiest out of all the girls at the academy.

The dreadful day had finally come. You turned 18. Which meant that you could kiss your last ounces of freedom and happiness goodbye the minute Snow slips a ring on your finger. You had school that day. You figured you would be pulled out from your first class to meet with Snow but that was not the case.

Throughout the day you grew anxious by the second. You had yet to be pulled out. The bell rang indicating the school day was over and nothing happened. Did Snow pull out? Did he change his mind? You hoped it was the latter.

You pack up your things and wave goodbye to your friends as they all start to pour out of the main doors of the Academy. From afar you could see a small crowd forming. You make your way towards the crowd and was horrified to see Snow leaned up against a car, a bouquet of white roses in one hand.

"Mrs. Snow," He smirks the second he sets eyes on you as the crowd around you gasp in shock. You felt pure rage and hatred towards the man standing in front of you. You storm closer to him, yanking the flowers from his hands and throwing it on the floor. "Do not call me that," You spat, venom laced in your tone as Snow's eyes darken. He grips your upper arm as the peacekeepers open the car door.

Snow roughly pushes you inside the car as he slams the door. "You have been acting like an ungrateful little brat. Show some fucking respect to your husband." He grips your chin as your eyes begin to water. "You are not my husband." You say as he grips your chin even tighter making you wince. "I will be, whether you like it or not, darling." He smirks at you, all you wanted to do was wipe that stupid smirk off his lips.

You push him off of you as you sit furthest away from him. A tear rolls down your cheek. This was going to be your life from now on. "First thing you should now about being Panem's First Lady." Snow turns his head towards you, his hands roll up his sleeves, "Do not. Refuse. My flowers. Clear?" You don't say anything.

"I said, do I make myself clear!" He yells as you flinch. You tore your eyes away from the window. "Crystal clear." You choke out as he grins in satisfaction. "Good."

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards: Part 4

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3.0K

Author's Note: This is the second part of what I anticipate will be a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

There was an odd pain radiating from your temple, stretching around your forehead to the back of your scalp, pulsating. What happened? you wondered. As you reached up to press your palm into the epicenter of the pain, you felt a distinct sharp pain radiating up your side from your ribs, spreading down through your back. It was enough pain to justify saying your entire torso felt like it was on fire. A sharp hiss escaped from between your teeth as you finally managed to bring your palm to your temple, the ache still pounding. You ran one hand up your side to find it bandaged, a wooden splint strapped to your side to keep you from bending. Something very bad had happened. You tried to recall events leading up to now, but the memories were foggy. Something about rain and darkness? Your body remembered biting cold, but other than that, you struggled to pull anything from your subconscious. Right now, you were just exhausted, both in mind and body.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with an odd sight. A wooden ceiling, vaulted high above you. You squinted, unsure if the pain in your head was distorting your vision. The roof of your cabin was much lower and certainly didn’t have the ornate carvings lining the beams. You managed to turn your head slightly, your neck sending a shooting pain through your spine as you clenched your teeth. Unless you were dreaming, this wasn’t your cabin.

To your right, there was a small wooden side table with four ornately carved drawers. Atop it was a washbasin with a dirty red rag draped over the side, and a single candle burned down almost to its base, the wick and flame high and flickering. Across the room was a large window with brown curtains hanging from the beam above it. On the window sill stood a series of bottles and candles—perfume bottles, perhaps. Below that was a chest carved with various markings, some of which you could make out as stars. Fighting against the pain, you craned your neck to look at the fireplace, where wood cracked and split as smoke curled up the chimney. Resting next to the mantle was a series of weapons: swords, knives, an ax, all left haphazardly as if someone had thrown them down some time ago and left them to collect dust.

Your head sent another pang of pain through it as you squeezed your eyes shut, your head falling back to hit the pillow again, which was soft, warm, and inviting. You let your hands fall back to your sides, instinctively curling into the warmth of the soft fur at the side of the bed. You let your fingers run idly through it as you tried and failed once again to orient yourself. Thinking too hard sent the pain burning through your skull again, and every breath felt as if someone were dragging a knife down the length of your side.

You must have fallen asleep, because when you next opened your eyes, the light in the room had shifted to the oranges and yellows of evening. Struggling once more to turn your head and look around the room, you noticed the washbasin had been removed and the candle replaced with a taller, newer version. Someone had come in while you were asleep. When you reached down your sides, you noticed the wooden splint had been removed and the dressings replaced with smoother, cotton bandages. Not only had someone been in the room with you, but they had also nursed you.

You tried to sit up. Another blast of pain, and a small inadvertent squeak from your mouth, and your head fell back to the mattress. When you turned your head, you recognized the male standing in the doorway, but couldn't quite place him. Your eyes squinted at him, mouth slightly open.

“You’re awake,” he finally spoke, making his way across the room and setting a basin of clean water on the side table before wringing out the rag within it. He reached across to run it across your temple, and you jerked to the side, causing another roar of pain as you squeezed your eyes shut and groaned.

“You can’t move like that,” he warned, pulling his hand back, the water dripping onto the floor. “You haven’t fully healed, and every time you move, that rib recracks.”

A broken rib. So that was the cause of the pain.

You groaned slightly as he placed the rag back in the basin and took a step back. You gave him a long look up and down. Yes, he certainly seemed familiar. His tanned skin, covered in swirling black tattoos running down his arms and up his neck, barely visible above the collar of his black shirt. His face was hardened yet kind, with hazel eyes meeting yours as you continued to try to decode this familiar stranger. His hair, soft black waves, swooped down over his forehead, and the most familiar part of him were the large bat-like wings protruding over his shoulders, the talons on the top glinting in the light of the fire, now blazing at the foot of the bed.

“Do you not recognize me?” he asked after you seemed satisfied with your visual investigation.

You rested your head back down on the pillow, your neck nearly giving out from the strain of holding it up, which felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. You choked back a slight gasp as your neck spasmed. “No,” you finally got out. “Should I?”

The male’s brows furrowed, and a hint of concern flashed across his face as he clasped his hands behind his back. “We met a few nights ago, both at the Starlit Stag Inn. You were in the room adjacent to mine.”

You pulled through the memories, recalling your initial interaction, walking in to find him lounging on the chair. Memories seemed to be coming back, slowly.

“You were in my room,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

The male let out a light chuckle as he pulled a wooden stool from the wall, planting his large frame onto it. His forearms rested on his thighs as he leaned forward, clasping his hands. “I would argue you were in my room, given I was there first.”

You opened one eye, the other still clenched shut, to look at him. His face was soft, inviting, handsome for sure, but what struck you most was the seeming care he took in looking at your face, which you were sure was battered and bruised based on how it felt.

“Well,” you replied, “I guess I’m sorry about taking over your space.”

He smiled again, his scarred thumb stroking the top of his other hand as he looked down at it. “I was more than happy to share.”

There was a pause as he looked back up at you, now staring toward the ceiling, ragged breaths escaping from you as you tried to peer through memories, searching for what had happened over the last few days.

“What do you remember?” he finally asked.

You blinked a few times. Rain, cold, pain, male voices echoing, saying such foul things, and before that, purple flowers, your mother. “It’s fuzzy,” you finally said, tears building at the corner of your eyes, though you weren’t sure why.

“Seemed like you knocked your head pretty hard,” the male said, gesturing to your temple. “Though I can’t say what happened to the rest of you, you were pretty battered when I found you”

“Found me?” you asked, a tear slipping down your cheek, though it was on the other side, and the male couldn’t see it as you shoved the sadness deep down.

The male nodded. “You were lying on the river bank, soaking wet and freezing. I assume you’d somehow fallen into the river and hit your head. You don’t remember any of that?”

That would explain the blasts of pain.

“What river?”

The male’s eyes furrowed again, apparently you knew less than he thought. “The Frostvale.”

“Frostvale, as in the Illyrian Frostvale?” you clarified.

The male chuckled again. “I don’t think there are many others named that.”

Frostvale was where your mate had taken you one summer, to spend the weekend swimming in the cold water rushing in from the eastern sea. Your mate. Oh gods.

You suddenly tried to shoot upwards, but the pain pushed you back down.

“Whoa, whoa,” the male warned, rising from his seat and rushing over to you.

You screamed as the pain radiated up your side and seemed to erupt from your mouth.

“You need to be careful. Your ribs are shattered,” he warned, pulling back the blankets slightly to check your bandages. It was then that you realized you didn’t have a top on and that the bandages around your midsection barely covered your breasts. You gasped quickly as the male went to adjust the bandage, but you whipped out an arm to push him back, slamming into his chest, pulling the fur blankets up.

“No!” you screamed at him.

He threw his hands up in defense. “Alright, alright” he conceded. “That was fair. But you need to not move so much. You already punctured your lungs twice just while you were sleeping.”

That explained the wheezing, hollow, raspy sound emanating from your chest.

“Half of this week has just been trying to keep you still,” he said.

“A week?” you suddenly realized, your eyes widening.

The male nodded, lowering his hands and returning to his stool. “Yeah, you’ve been out for about four days.”

You gulped down the anxiety growing in your stomach. You’d lost four days, and who knows how many more from the injury. You suddenly ran through how far you would have made it from your cabin, realizing your original plan to escape had altered based off of this slight mishap.

You learned, after more questions, that you’d been away from the cabin for the last seven days. A full week without being found or going back—the longest time you had made it, although the injury certainly aided in that. But what you found strange was that since you had woken up, and the entire time you had been unconscious, the slimy voice of your mate hadn’t wormed its way into your mind. You shuddered at the thought of being unable to get away from your mate's coercion, insults, rages, and any other commentary he might throw down the bond. You silently thanked the Mother for whatever grace had been gifted to you.

The male looked toward the washbasin and then back to you. You followed his eyes. “I need to clean the gash on your head,” he said.

“I can do it,” you retorted.

The male frowned. “You can’t sit up. If you lift your arm above your head, your lung is going to pop, and I’m not even sure you have enough strength to hold yourself up for more than a second.”

You weighed your options, your eyes darting between the washbasin and his face. He sensed your hesitancy and finally responded, “I promise I won’t do anything. I just want to wash your wound.”

He held his hands up again as if in a peace offering. You gulped, still not fully sure why you felt so against this male touching you. Something in you felt incredibly hesitant about those wings, but you couldn’t quite place why.

The male sucked his lips between his teeth and peered around the room, his eyes landing on the fire mantle. He stood slowly as you watched him. You tried to cover yourself more, but pulling the blanket up caused a small fire to radiate through your back. The male seemed attuned to your nerves and said, “I’m going to get up and grab something from the mantle, and then I’m going to come back here and sit down.”

You nodded approval, and he gave a small nod back before he stood, continuing to face you, hands drawn up before himself while he walked slowly to the mantle. Your breathing paused as you waited. He reached up and grabbed a single hunting knife from the top. You suddenly panicked, trying to sit up, in fear of what you didn’t know. He wasn’t coming at you, wasn’t menacingly brandishing the knife, and yet you felt an inherent need to flee. When he saw your reaction, he quickly placed the knife on the floor, standing again, hands drawn up to his shoulders, palms facing you.

“It’s okay,” he reassured as you grunted at the pain. “I’m sorry, I should have told you what I was getting.” He pointed a finger down at the floor. “I was going to let you hold this while I cleaned the wound. You can hold it to my stomach, and if I go too far or you feel unsafe, you can defend yourself.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused at his remark. He was willingly giving you a weapon and asking you to stab him with it if you felt uncomfortable. “What?” you asked.

He looked at you, pausing, eyes meeting yours. “I just thought you might feel safer if you had some control.”

You tried to wipe the confusion from your face. He wanted you to stab him. No, he wanted you to have a way to stop him from hurting you. Even if he didn’t plan on hurting you, he wanted you to be able to stop it. You didn’t say anything, just continued to look at him.

“Are you okay with that?” he asked. When you didn’t respond, he added, “Look, I don’t know why you aren’t healing faster, but I’m worried that letting that fester is just going to make it harder and harder or deadly.” A pause. “Plus, I’ve been working hard at cleaning it for the last few days, so having you ruin my work doesn’t seem fair.” He gave you a small smile.

You nodded, and he smiled again, saying, “Alright, thank you. Now, I’m going to lean down and get the knife. I’m going to put it next to you on the bed and then step back until you take it, okay?”

You let out a sound of agreement, and he slowly crouched, one hand descending to grab the blade, the other still held in the air. He stood back up and slowly walked to the side of the bed, putting the knife next to your hand and taking a step back, both hands returning to the air. You quickly gripped the knife, and through the pain, held it up, your upper arm still propped up by the bed.

“Doing okay?” he asked. You nodded.

“Okay,” he pointed to the washbasin, “Now I’m going to grab that rag and dampen it. Then I’m going to run it over your forehead to clean it. It might take me a few rounds before it’s clean, and I am going to want to stop to look at the wound, but I promise I won’t let my hands touch you. Is that okay?”

You nodded your agreement. He nodded back. “I’m going to have to lean over you a bit, so you just keep the knife steady. You can rest it against my stomach.” You nodded again. He paused momentarily, “And please don’t accidentally stab me, if you’re going to do it, make it count.”

He slowly walked forward, grabbing the rag and dipping it into the water before wringing it out. He then brought it to your forehead, wiping it gingerly at first, his eyes focused on the wound. You held the knife to his stomach, pressing the tip gently into his shirt, feeling the hardened muscles underneath.

You gulped a few times, your sight locked onto his face and hands as he tended to you. He spoke the entire time, telling you what he was doing, alerting you when he was going to move, and warning you if things would hurt. At some point, you let the knife fall from his stomach, but you couldn’t decide if it was comfort or fatigue. When he was finished, he tossed the rag into the basin, scrubbing his hands clean and then wiping them on his pants.

“I probably should have opened with my name,” he chuckled to himself. “It just seemed like you were more preoccupied than niceties would have allowed. I’m Azriel.”

You looked at him, your fingers tracing the knife handle. “I’m Y/N,” you responded.

“That’s a pretty name,” he replied, turning back to you.

You smiled lightly, not looking towards him, just tracing the carved woodland animals on the handle of the knife.

“Look, I—” he started, then stopped, pondering his response. “I don’t want to intrude, and I know you’ve got some amnesia from hitting your head, but I just—” He paused again. “That first night, in the tavern, I came into your room and woke you up because you were screaming and—” He stopped.

You gulped, your eyes filling with tears, and you sniffled them away. You didn’t know why this kept happening. Why did you keep allowing yourself to the brink of tears in front of this stranger? He watched as your eyes reddened and lined with silver. “We can talk about it later,” he said, then smiled, picking up the basin and propping it on his hip. He looked toward your torso. “Would you feel more comfortable if a female looked at your ribs?” he asked.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat that built before you could cry and nodded your head. Azriel smiled slightly, aware of the oncoming storm, and said, “I’ll send a female up here tomorrow morning.” He turned, walking toward the door, his large wings narrowly fitting through the entrance. Before reaching behind him to pull the door shut, he paused and asked, “Do you like berries?”

You nodded again, unable to speak for fear you might sob. He threw you another smile before ducking his head and leaving the room. Then he shut the door, leaving you alone as your tears began to fall and you coughed out long sobs that sent your body radiating with pain. You were stuck here, in a room, unable to move, with a male you didn’t know. You gripped the knife in your fist before pushing it under the fur blanket as your exhaustion hit you again, and your weary body succumbed to sleep.

Authors Note: Thank you for everyone who has been keeping up with the story and interaction and a special thanks to those who asked to join the tag list, it means to much to know there are people out here genuinely enjoying my works!

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll

@fightmedraco

@marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx

@romantasyreader28 @minnieoo

@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: a brief reprieve.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

He waits until the air has settled. Yet he hasn’t. That thrill buzzes behind his ears as his chest beats erratically. He can’t help but think of their run-in at the store. It wasn’t that bad. She wasn’t afraid of him, just startled in the moment. That’s a good sign.

He mulls over his colliding thoughts. He wants to wait, make sure she is ready, that she can see he only means to take care of her. Then there’s that impatience that tugs at his nape. As he comes out of his hiding spot, just up on the fire escape of the next building, he has a thought. He should just walk up and knock on her door, introduce himself.

Noooooo. No. He’s getting carried away. She’s alone and vulnerable. He doesn’t want her to associate those things with him. He wants to make her feel safe.

So he slows and minds his steps, taking those untrackable paces that make him so deadly. They never hear him coming. He clicks into soldier mode, with a mission in mind. He creeps past her door and bends to swipe up the letter, barely missing a beat as he continues down the alley.

He doesn’t stop until he’s on the next street. He peers up and down, scanning the area and peeking over his shoulder. No one following, no movement from the alley. He turns left and crosses the road, dipping beneath the alcove of an abandoned storefront.

He shakily opens his hand. He’s slightly crumpled the paper. He frowns at the wrinkles and smooths them out. He narrows his eyes and reads the first line. Her writing is loopy and she dots her eyes with exes.

‘Hi stranger,’

He pauses, savouring each letter. Stranger… one day, she’ll know his name. He still wonders how she didn’t recognise him in the shop. Every now and then, people do.

He puts his eyes to the paper once more.

‘I don’t know what else to say but thank you. I don’t know who you are, but I know you are kind. Your gift will help in ways you don’t even know. I hope one day someone does something just as nice for you.

Thank you.’

He lingers on her name. He shifts around the letter to peel off his right glove and runs his thumb over the letters. He leans on the brick and reads the whole letter again. She knows he means well. She sees what he can do, he just needs her to know all he would do for her.

He folds up the letter carefully and tucks it inside his jacket, patting the outside just to make sure it's snug. He slips his phone out and pulls up the app. He flicks through the cameras until he finds the angle he wants.

His heart drops and his soles scuff as he fights to keep from racing out into the street. She’s on the floor, sat against the wall, a litter of groceries all around her. She calmly holds a can, reading the ingredients as if the scene isn’t chaotic.

He waits, teetering between reluctance and desperation. He needs her to get up. She’s all alone and he’s the only one who can see she needs help. Yet he can’t just burst in there and scoop her up and tell her it’ll be okay.

He can only watch helplessly. He hates feeling this way. It takes him back. To when he didn’t have control. To when he was a monster.

Her

You set the can down and steel yourself, closing your eyes as you tilt your head back. Your hip is still ringing. It was just one wrong step, a stupid slip, and it all came crashing down. That’s when your armful went scattering and you with it. The tumble saw you landing on one of the tin cans, its shape more painful than the descent.

You reach to brace the wall and push yourself to one knee. Your hip is on fire as you grunt and plant your foot. You stand and cling to the wall sobbing as your tears break through. You turn and try to take a step, catching yourself with the mostly empty shopping cart, nearly tipping it as you stagger.

You twist and hit the counter with your back. You let go of the cart and get your elbows onto the counter before you slide down again. You lean back and catch your breath, aching so deep you shake. You roll your eyes against the tears and look around.

The apartment is so solemnly lonely. It’s just you. You could languish on the floor and no one would ever know. The government wouldn’t care if you didn’t cash your check, the grocer wouldn’t care if you didn’t pick out discounts, and your neighbours wouldn’t notice past their toddler’s tantrums.

You gather your strength and make yourself stand, ignoring the agony. You can do this. You grab the cart and drag it closer. You bend over and grab the bread, whipping it out onto the counter. You lean heavily on the cupboards as you go about getting it all away. Your final challenge is retrieving the cans from the floor.

At last, it’s done. You roll the cart before you, using it as your only support and fall against the back of the couch. You let the cart go and flip yourself over onto the mattress, curling up across the top as you’re wracked with heaving sobs.

You’re tired of this. The pain, the helplessness, the betrayal of your own body. You’re trapped inside this thing that doesn’t work! You just want to give up. You don’t know why you haven’t. You don’t have anything to keep you from doing just that.

Dr. Grissam looks at you dully over his chart. You sit on the low stool, unable to even take the step up to get on the bed. He sighs and taps his pen on the clipboard.

“I did recommend the cane last time,” he reprimands.

You wince. He did and you couldn’t afford it then, just like you can’t know. And the bill for this visit will be another dent in your monthly stipend. You’re rationing your oatmeal and keeping your bread frozen.

“I know. I… I should’ve listened,” you hang your head. Dr. Grissam is a stern man but he signed off on your ministry papers. Without his little scribble, you’d have nothing.

“It’s a lesson,” he sniffs, “there’s a mobility store. I recommend it. They have a big selection, affordable too.”

Affordable. That’s not within your vocabulary. He jots something down on the little pad and rips the sheet off, holding it out. “More pain meds. Ten tablets. You take them when you need to, not when you want to.”

“Yes, doctor,” your murmur.

He’s always been stingy but you don’t ask for the pills. He gives them but acts like you’re some sort of fiend. You accept the script and get up, clinging to the stool until you get your balance.

“Is it close?” You ask.

“Bus takes you straight to it. Couple blocks down.”

“Oh,” you nod, “thank you, doctor.”

“Make sure you see Charity. It’ll help.”

You utter an empty promise to do so before you leave. You can’t afford to see the physio either. You told him that before but you don’t think he heard you, or wanted to. In his eyes, it’s your own fault you’re like this. You can’t help but wonder if it is.

You won’t use the prescription. You can’t pay the pharmacy fee. You check the address scrawled beneath; you can walk there… slowly. You’ll have to take some breaks but it will be easier when you have a cane. Getting back won’t be as taxing, but you expect, you’ll draw even more stares.

Bucky

She went into the store nearly forty minutes ago. The small depot is nestled between a convenience store and vape shop. She walked all the way there from the plaza of her doctor's office.

He kept pace with her, hanging back when she sat on a bench and rubbed her hip. He still can't shake the image of her on her bed, crying on pain. The days since haven't proven any easier. 

He stares at the marquee. The mobility shop displays scooters and walkers in the window. He can guess why she's there. He can tell it took more than just the physical effort to make herself do so.

He's antsy. He hopes she's okay. She didn't look very happy after her appointment. She even seemed defeated. 

The door opens and closes. He's disappointed. It's not her, only an elderly couple. Despite the let down, he can't help but feel a dimple in his cheek. That could be them one day, a whole life ahead of them.

He checks his watch. He's supposed to meet up with Sam in a couple hours. He can cancel, he isn't exactly in the mood to be hazed. 

When the door opens again, he's transfixed. It's her. She walks steadier with the cane but still uneven. She keeps her free hand on her hip as she appears to test out her new gait, figuring out how best to place the cane.

She grows more confident as she goes. He notices her slow down and peer through the window of the bakery nearby. He keeps his distance, still across the street. He’s noted that too. How she meticulously measures out her food. A can of soup is split across three meals with nothing else. She eats slow when she remembers too.

It’s starting to get to him. So much it makes him itchy. She needs him to take care of her. She can’t do it herself. Not because of her hips or her lack of trying. He can barely do it either. He sleeps on the living room floor in the light of television just to feel a little less alone.

She’s a lot like him. He sees that more and more. As he does, he feels her pain like his own. More than his own.

He can’t keep waiting. If he does, she could get hurt. He can’t bear to keep watching her suffer like this. He can help her. He knows he can. She might not, but he can show her. It’s not the way he wanted to but his hands are tied.

He should go see Sam. He promised. Besides, he needs a favour.

Her

The shadows move just on the other side of your eyelids. You’re groggy as slowly you’re drawn awake by the odd scratching. A breeze flows over your body and you roll onto your side. Your lashes flutter and gasp as you notice the front door. It’s open!

You sit up, panic swelling in your chest. Someone’s in your apartment. You hear them, sifting around in the drawers. You turn and see the silhouette of the intruder, shoulders broad as he’s distracted by your sparse belongings. You reach for the can against the side of the folding frame.

As you swing it to the floor and haul yourself up, the man turns. You cry out as he sees you, stalking forward, his eyes flitting between you and the door. He seems to hesitate as he comes closer and closer. You aren’t fast enough to run.

He stops, frozen, as if he’s afraid of you. You don’t know what to do so you raise the cane and smack his shoulder. 

“Get out!” Your heart hammers wildly. What are you doing? This man could break you in half. “Get-”

He hisses and pushes the cane away as you aim it at him again. He lumbers around you, shielding himself with an arm as he hurries to the door, shoving through the heavy grate. He mutters something you can’t make out. You set your cane straight and limp to the door, eager to close it behind him.

You hear him outside, grunting and groaning. You keep from shutting the door as you see him tangled with another shadow. The man in the hoodie remains faceless as a thick arm wraps around his neck. Another man wrestles him down to his knees as a slat of light limns his square jaw and bright eyes. You gape  through the iron bars of the outer door.

“Lock the door,” he grows as he continues to struggle with the intruder, “now.”

You obey. You recognise the man but you can’t place from where. It doesn’t matter. He can’t be bad if he’s fighting a robber, right? You turn the locks, the lower one broken completely. You strain to watch through the peephole. 

You can’t believe this is happening, that that man broke in and you didn’t even notice. Not until he could have hurt you. Not until it was too late.

[dreadpirateella]

uhhhh so I couldn't wait and finished The Neon Void... AND I HAVE THOUGHTS

putting a cut here bc this is gonna be loooong

and spoilers for all of Neon Void ofc

Dude ok just the writing in this?? This fic is SO well written like omg. All of the action scenes come across SO well, and as someone who can't write a fight scene to save my life, I just really appreciate that. Everything is so easy to follow.

AND THE DIALOGUE???? SO perfect omg. Everything felt so in character like this could be a whole season of the show. The way Leo's hysteria is written is just so crazy and so incredible. Like it's so clear that he's losing his mind but also so clear that he's still Leo. I'm just in love with it

and the looming threat of the Krang parasite?? Such a good like consistent villain. You can never go too long without remembering its presence and realizing what a massive threat it is!

The miscommunication between Leo and everyone else about what he plans to do with the key is also just incredible. The way they thought he was so far gone as to use it to release the Krang? That's just so heartbreaking.

AND THE REVEAL???? I just need to talk about it like genuinely it's SO well done. It feels a little out of nowhere (/pos!!!) and I really think it works bc it just totally catches everyone by surprise. Leo not even realizing that he's exposed until a few seconds pass it just perfect. Wondering why his entire family is staring at him like that and then realizing that they know is just *chefs kiss*

I LOVE everyone's anger when Void messed with Leo's stuff. Him stealing Donnie's bracelet and messing up his room, like you can feel the anger from the rest of the family and it's SO good.

also side note??? Mikey cutting Leo's arm off??? freaking awesome I LOVE when Mikey gets to go crazy

The emotions in this fic are just SO palpable. Like I felt the grief and heartache and confusion and anger radiating off of these characters through my screen. Every chapter is just so soaked with emotion it's freaking incredible. The writing in this fic is just phenomenal.

The brother's ninpo calming down and comforting Leo is also just such a good little repeated detail. Leo finally being able to contact his ancestors because he's back with his family once again is just SO good and so sweet. Karai is the most comforting presence known to man 😭

AND FUTURE LEO AT THE END???? was NOT expecting that I love it so dang much. Everyone in Leo's little mindscape journey at the end just yelling at him to go back to his family is just so so so sweet to read. And Leo's decision when he destroyed the key to stay with his family was just so beautiful. It just felt so right.

And everyone's reactions to every situation just feel so natural!!! I was reading it and something would happen and I'd be like of course that's how they'd respond to that! All of the Hamatos having that realization hit them that yes this is Leo and yes he's actually here is just so bittersweet to read. Knowing they grieved for FIVE years and now here he is right in front of them. It's just so emotional

I'm definitely gonna have more thoughts about this as more time passes so maybe expect more rambles?? and maybe some fanart too!!! Void's design is just too cool not to draw.

This fic sent me on a roller-coaster of emotions and I couldn't be more thankful for it. Thank you SO MUCH @sugarpasteltmnt for writing and sharing this incredible piece of art with all of us. You're incredible.

TLDR: I'm in love with this fic please go read it I'm gonna think about it for the rest of my life

[catherinnn]

"Slut!" (Bad Omens part II)

Summary: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!reader. Despite what happened with Rudy, you and Eddie break up again to protect the band. Eddie moves onto a new relationship, but history repeats itself, causing strain within the group. Frustrated with the pattern, your bandmates threaten the future of the band. To add insult to injury, you're labeled as the "slut", with all blame directed your way —or so it’s claimed. Warnings: cheating, slut-shaming, a little smutty, a little angsty, a little fluffy, jealousy, mentions of Steddie x reader, y/n is used like two times sorry, I use a taylor song as if it’s corroded coffin’s so imagine it like rock, fighting, drinking, language Words: 7.1k a/n: please know that eddie is cheating on his girlfriend here, and it’s a happy ending for reader and eds, so if you don’t like that don’t read it. Also, this is like my fifth fic where there’s cheating I don’t know how to defend myself here, I promise I completely hate this irl, it’s just hot to write :)

part I: Bad Omens

Megan.

Eddie’s new girl.

Or as the headlines say: Eddie Munson’s New Hot Model Girlfriend.

Yes, she’s a model! Not a Victoria’s Secret model, thank God, that would be just what you needed to kill yourself.

She’s not actually “new” anymore, it has been a year already. Even a whole album in the middle, “kiss”. The one where you had to kiss Eddie on the mouth for the cover of it, that’s what everybody seems to care about anyway.

That’s not actually the cover though, it’s just Eddie sat on a chair covered in lipstick stains all over his face, neck and shirt. Then you with Gareth and Jeff behind him, each of you with a different lipstick color: you with red, Jeff with maroon, and Gareth with purple. Eddie has kisses of all those three colors all over him, but the one on the lips was red.

Anyway, they started dating over a year now. It was literal hell for you, watching her wait for him after shows in the backstage and once you go back there after finishing, watching her jump on him to congratulate him, watching them kiss, watching them dance at parties, her sitting on his lap all the time, listening to his god-awful comments or jokes with double meaning about what they did last night. But it was nothing, you two were just bandmates, best friends, he was to you just like what Gareth or Jeff were to you, the brothers you never had, right?

Only you’ve never kissed Gareth, nor Jeff. But you did kiss Eddie before, you’ve had sex with him, for God’s sake!

But you two are just friends, all the flirting is just for show. Or that’s what Eddie keeps telling Megan.

You’ve never had a friendship where you got mad at them for making out with their own girlfriend in front of you, and them actually saying sorry. But that actually happened between you and Eddie, he even dropped to his knees asking for you to forgive him, not having to give it a double thought as for why you were so jealous over her. You both knew. You just couldn’t do anything about it. That would put the band in too much danger, and the band came first, always.

But thanks to that little jealousy scene Eddie had to call Steve, who had told you he lost his job recently and was trying to figure out what to do with his life next, he was in no rush though, his family was filthy rich, so he could take all the time he needed. You had the amazing idea to invite him over for the rest of the tour, sort of like a little groupie of yours. You’ve had your short history with Steve the tour before this one, and also a shorter history involving you, Steve and Eddie, but that was before he got his own girlfriend.

Steve stayed touring with you guys all over Europe, but as you got back to the United States, Steve decided it was time to go back to his own life. You were sad obviously, understanding him but missing him nonetheless, it wasn’t like you two were much of a serious couple, again he was there as a groupie of the band’s lead singer. But he helped a lot as a distraction to forget about Eddie and Megan. And he obviously became someone important for whom you cared a lot.

Nowadays, it has been a few months since Steve left you guys, you were touring North America now. Megan couldn’t always be with you, she had to go back to LA for time to time to keep modelling, but she always flew to wherever you guys were to keep seeing Eddie.

She wasn’t with you guys currently, you were in New York having sold out two consecutive weekends, six nights in total that you were playing just in NY. You still had two more nights to end weekend one, but you still had a whole other week here. Next stop was LA.

The show was incredible, crowd went crazy as usual, and you all had an amazing night. With all that energy still in you, you guys went to an after party, and drank a lot to celebrate.

“Oh, there you are” Eddie says after he went to get more shots to do with you.

“Here I am”

“Ready for more?” Eddie asks and you nod.

“Always”

“Come here pretty girl” he demands and you both know that with that nickname you’ll do anything he asks for. “Open up” he orders right after holding you closer by the waist—and god you love the feeling of his hands on you. You open your mouth and he pours the liquid that was on the tiny cup, you swallow quickly and cringe at the strong taste of alcohol. “Good girl”

“It’s your turn now” you remind him.

“You wanna do it to me now?” he offers and you nod. He kneels in front of you, since he’s so much taller than you, so you can pour the cup into his mouth easily. You grin at the sight before you, Eddie on his knees, hands on your thighs now and his mouth wide open waiting for you, eyes locked on yours. You start pouring the liquid and he swallows it as if it was water.

“Good boy” you tease him back and he smirks.

He gets up not so smoothly this time, since he kind of stumbles almost falling onto you. He’s way closer now, eyes not leaving yours as if he’s mesmerized. “Hi”

“Hi” you giggle.

“You look really beautiful tonight” he whispers as if he was just thinking out loud.

“Yeah, I do?” you tease but he nods anyway.

“Yeah, and you were amazing tonight, so good, you’re always so good on stage” he keeps whispering.

“Thank you Eddie, you were amazing too,” you tell him, “and just between you and I… you always look so hot performing, playing guitar so I can sing with you…”

“Wanna kiss you” he practically whimpers getting so close to your lips they’re almost touching.

“Do it” you whisper on his mouth. You weren’t thinking, neither of you two was.

So he kisses you, his hand goes up to your hair and pulls you the centimetre closer that was left for your lips to touch. The kiss is passionate, hard, just what you two needed from each other. His hot tongue on your mouth make you sigh and instantly your tongue starts dancing with his. Your hands go to his hair to pull on it and he groans into your mouth. His hands go to your hips and he pulls you closer, you can feel the bulge in his pants against your tummy, and it turns you on even more.

“I need you baby” he says separating for a second just to keep kissing you.

“Need you too Eds” you whimper.

“Fuck-“ he takes a big breath an turns back to you. “Let’s go back to the hotel, please?”

You nod without even thinking twice about it.

“There’s still a few paps outside” he warns you, “ you go out first, I’ll be right behind you, we don’t want them to see this, right?” he signals his crotch and a chuckle escapes from your lips. You give him a good last kiss —well, for now at least— and you go outside, walk right into the car waiting for you, ignoring all the cameras and flashes that were also waiting for any of you to walk out of the bar. Eddie gets in after you and he wastes no time to attack your neck right after he closes the door.

“Back to the hotel” you tell the driver between giggles and he starts the car acting as if you two aren’t almost dry humping in the backseat.

The drive to the hotel passes by with moans and sighs between both of you, lots of making out and resisting the need to rip each other’s clothes off right then and there.

When the driver stops the car, Eddie grabs the first bill he finds in his wallet making sure it’s a good tip as a thank you for his professionalism. Thank God all the people that worked for you had to sing an NDA to get the job, otherwise your publicist would be ripping his hair out tomorrow.

There weren’t any paparazzi at the hotel thankfully, so you can get in and walk to the elevator in peace.

You press the bottom to your floor and the doors close as you feel Eddie pressing himself on your ass, you laugh and go back to kissing him.

When the doors open again you stumble until you get to the first room you see. Eddie’s room finally.

He closes the door by pushing you against it. His lips ghost over yours but he’s not yet closing the distance, grabbing you by the neck so you can’t kiss him. He gets his tongue out a little and you can feel the warmth over your mouth, but not the actual skin.

“Eddie” you whimper and he laughs at you.

“You’re so hot baby” he starts, “gonna let me fuck you, huh?”

He teases you but you nod nonetheless.

“You don’t know how much I missed kissing this pretty mouth of yours,” he stops for a second to give you a wet kiss, “had to hold myself back to not touch you all the time, not to feel you up in every little outfit you wear every night… but I missed this so much baby”

“Missed this too Eddie, please do something” you whimper again feeling so impatient for him. It’s pathetic how just a little fore play at the bar and in the car made you so dumb for him already. But then again, you haven’t had him in more than a year.

The night went on with lots more of teasing and need for each other. You filled the room with both of your moans and whispers claiming how much you missed each other and how glad you are to feel each other again. Not much thinking straight, just acting, doing what you waited so much to be able to do again.

And it was so good, you two always work so good together. The night ended late, after long rounds finally realising the need for each other where you were no longer drunk on the alcohol, but drunk on each other’s bodies and the love you have for one another. “I missed you”, “I love you” and “I need you” were the phrases you both kept repeating all night long. Not thinking of the consequences or what you’d do tomorrow, you just let go.

After what could be described as the perfect night because after sex you both went to sleep holding each other to then dream of each other, your morning started as the complete opposite. You were woken up by several knocks on the door.

“Eddie? Are you there, man?” you can hear the voice of Gareth making him guilty for the knocks that woke you up. You can also hear Eddie groan behind you, feeling his hold on your waist tighten to show he didn’t want to wake up yet, he wanted to stay like this with you for a few more hours—and so did you.

But apparently you weren’t the only one who heard Eddie because Gareth talks again, “Dude, is Y/n there with you? She’s not in her in her room”

“Yes!” Eddie shouts wishing that was all he needed to know so he could just fuck off and let you two sleep a little more.

“Okay good, we have to get down now, Rafe’s waiting for us to have breakfast and talk a little more about the new album or something” he informs you.

You both groan and complain a little, but then again, you’re used to this; being on tour does not equal having enough sleep.

“We’ll be there in a sec!” you inform Gareth so he can get going.

“Let’s keep sleeping” Eddie offers without even opening his eyes yet.

“No Eds, then they would just come to get us again, but this time angrier” you tell him.

“Fuck, fine” he sits up now, opens his eyes slowly to find you putting one of his shirts on. “Morning” he smirks and he feels his cock twitch at the sight of you with only his shirt on and nothing else, eyeing the glimpse of your ass cheeks showing under his shirt, also remembering what you have —finally— done last night.

You find your underwear but decide against putting them on again, they’re not in the best state after last night.

“Morning Munson” you say laughing at his state; his hair a complete mess, can barely open his eyes and his boxers do barely any work to hide his semi. “Come on, get dressed. I’ll go back to my room so I can find some new clothes”

“M’kay, but keep my shirt on, at least for breakfast” he requests.

“Fine, meet me in the hallway so we can go down”

“Yes baby”

You grab the rest of your clothes and check that nobody is the hall before getting out and quickly getting into your room.

While you get another pair of underwear and some jeans to put on, you start thinking about how calmed Eddie was this morning, you were slightly scared that he would wake up finding you naked and remember last night only to start freaking out regretting everything. But this only meant he meant everything he did and said last night, and you were glad.

You’ll figure out what happens with you two later today, but you needed to maintain calmed.

You met Eddie in the hall after getting dressed and you go to the elevator so you can get down to the dining room with the rest.

Little did you know that when you got there and walked to the table with rest of the band and your manager, a big fight would erupt.

Because just as you two sat down in front of the boys, Jeff started losing it.

“Uhh, hi?” his tone was angry.

“Morning” Eddie responds as if nothing.

“What did you two do last night?” he asked in between his teeth.

And with that, Eddie catches on too, you two look up at him with a guilty look on your face, neither answers his question and that all he needed to know.

“I cannot believe you two, you did this again?! Eddie, you have a girlfriend!” Jeff lets his anger out. “How the fuck can you be so calmed, coming down here covered in hickeys and you wearing his shirt?!”

“Jeff-“ Eddie started but he interrupts him.

“No, don’t Jeff me! What were you thinking?! What happens now, huh?! What the fuck is the plan?!”

“There is no plan” you say quietly knowing his response will be more screaming.

“Of course there’s no plan! You just act without even caring what happens next! What happens to the band now? Will you two just keep risking everything without a care in the world?! Need I remind you how your relationship with Rudy ended? That’s right, because you cheated on him with Eddie! And now you do the same with your girlfriend?! What the fuck is wrong with you two?!” He switches among talking directly to you, Eddie and both of you at the same time. You two catch up on it though, you both know what you did and the questions Jeff was asking were the same you two were trying to quiet down inside your heads.

Eddie is looking at him with an angry expression, as if he was ordering him to shut the fuck up. You, on the other hand weren’t looking at anyone, eyes locked somewhere down on the table, guilty expression on your face.

“I’m sorry Rafe, but if they don’t care about the band then neither do I” he finishes getting up and walking out.

The table now is even more uncomfortable, complete silence, no one knowing what to say next. Rafe sighs looking down, thinking hard but not saying anything. Gareth is looking at everybody quietly, he didn’t know what to do or if it was his place to say anything, so he decided to stay silent. Eddie was looking at you worried, you were still looking down somewhere at the table holding the tears.

Finally, after a few seconds, you decide to get up to leave too because you realize you won’t be able to hold back the tears much longer. “Not hungry anymore” your voice comes out week and shaky, letting the boys know how you feel, you slowly walk out of there too, going back to your room.

“Eddie,” Rafe is the next one to break the silence, “before I decide anything here, you and her should talk.” Eddie nods. “I knew this would happen eventually… you two clearly love each other and I need you to know that that’s not wrong, the band can still work but we need to be smart about how to handle this. I was just wishing you two wouldn’t do anything while being in a relationship with someone else… again”

“I know, I’m sorry” Eddie says and he decides to give you some more time before going up to talk. The three man have breakfast in silence, at least more calmed now after Rafe’s words.

What if all I need is you? –

Adorned with smoke on my clothes

Lovelorn and nobody knows

Love thorns all over this rose –

If I'm gonna be drunk

Might as well be drunk in love –

We'll pay the price, I guess

You stare at the words you just wrote on the little notebook. Instead of crying and overthinking everything, you stopped and decided to write the intense feelings inside of you, not caring if they made sense yet, not caring if they will ever end up in an actual song since how the band’s looking right now. Writing always helped you, it was like organizing your thoughts, organizing your head and your heart.

You get out of your head when you hear a soft knock on the door. “Baby, it’s me” you calm down when you recognize Eddie’s voice and you get up to open the door.

“I brought some food for you, you should eat something” Eddie softly tells you and you think you can feel your heart jumping, holding the need to hug him.

“Thank you baby” you think it’s either funny or dangerous how you two keep calling each other these kind of nicknames when everything is going to shit and it’s all your fault. It feels as if you’re having a warm cup of tea reading a nice book completely ignoring the hurricane that’s coming right behind you to destroy everything.

Eddie gets in and sits on the bed with you while you sip on your coffee realizing he prepared it just like you like it: more milk than coffee and four spoons of sugar. Sweet just like you is what Eddie thinks.

He finds the notebook and opens the page that was marked. He knew this was the notebook you wrote song lyrics on, so he knew he could open it without the fear of looking at something more private.

He read the lyrics and immediately a beat came to his head, he started humming it for you. It was slow and sweet and it fit the song perfectly. You were amazed at how he could just read your mind when you wrote songs. You just got each other when it comes to music.

“Sweetheart, don’t want you to be scared or nervous but we should talk” he almost whispers at how softly he’s talking to you. You nod understanding. ”Don’t want you to think of Jeff or the band for just a second, we should figure us up first”

“Eddie, what I feel for you is love. I’m completely in love with you, for years now. We both know this and it hurts so much to see you with her-“

“I don’t love her, you know that right?” he makes sure you know and you nod again. He knows the feeling though, it was how he felt with Rudy and then with Steve. It wasn’t simply jealousy, it wasn’t something dumb and possessive. It was the love you have to pretend you don’t feel for each other burning inside like a fucking mansion flaming to the bone. But you had to act as if it was nothing, as if you are just bandmates, best of friends.

Before you can start saying anything, you feel the tears building up again. He notices so he does the talking.

“Rafe said he knew this would happen eventually, we’ve always been in love sweetheart, it was bound to happen. He said the band can still work and I believe that too” he starts. “Baby, we didn’t want to be together in fear of risking the band’s future. It’s been years of being in love but not doing anything about it, and the love never went away. We’ve had big fights, we fucking dated other people but we still can’t get over each other. I think the band’s is in more danger if we keep this up, if we keep trying to just be friends than if we finally let go and let ourselves be in love”

Tears were already free running down your face. You nod at Eddie’s words. “I know; I think the same”

 A few seconds pass where you keep looking at each other with soft smiles tugging at your faces, you both agree on what you needed to do, but could you finally do it?

“So we can be together? Finally?” his voice brakes on the last word and it make you cry harder. You get closer to him, sitting on him so you could give him a big hug, one that shows all the love and need you have for one another. Hugging him around his neck and legs around his waist, face hidden on his neck and he does the same, with his hands around your waist and face on your neck. Impossibly closer.

After some minutes like that, he talks again.

“I have to break up with Megan”

“Yeah”

“I still won’t see her for another week, when we finish New York and flight to LA”

“I think you should maybe call her, so she’s not surprised with the news. I think it would be even worse if you don’t say anything and the second you see her again stun her with the news that you’re breaking up” you explain.

“Ok, yeah I will”

“Eds, I also think it would be smarter of us if… we don’t make it public until we’re both completely sure we’re ready. Think we should be together and be in peace to see how we actually work… I- I’m not saying to keep it a secret because of anything bad, but-“

“I know what you mean, I agree. We should take our time together alone, without the opinions or thoughts of others until we’re ready”

“Exactly”

After finish breakfast, Rafe comes to get you again. Rehearsal starts in twenty minutes.

You change your clothes and put a little make up on, also making sure to cover the hickeys.

When you get down you see the car waiting to take you to rehearsals, but Rafe makes you wait for everyone in the lobby, not getting in the car yet.

Eddie, Gareth and you are waiting for Jeff to come down and for a few seconds you fear he won’t. But the elevator’s doors open and he appears.

“Alright, before we get in the car, you’ll listen to me. We’ll all talk later, the safety of the band comes first and we have to talk about that while we’re all in the right headspace, not while being angry or anything. So as for now, you’ll do the rehearsal for the show you have to give tonight and you’ll forget anything than happened last night or this morning. Only focusing on tonight, you’ve been doing this for years now and you know how to be professionals” he explains. “Now get in the car and don’t worry about anything that is not the show for now, please”

You all nod in agreement and then get in the car.

Once you get there, you start rehearsing the songs and the dialogs, the times between each song, and set list that you already knew by heart since you’ve been doing this show for months now.

When you finish you go backstage and order food for lunch.

Eddie and you come to the realisation that it’s time to talk to Gareth and Jeff now.

All four of you are already together, each in their own head, not exchanging a word. Eddie looks at you and nods, it’s time.

“Guys, can we talk?” you tell them ignoring the knot in your stomach from how nervous you are. Eddie gets up and stands next to you, Gareth and Jeff get closer, paying attention to you now. Jeff seems pissed yet, like he clearly didn’t want to talk to you two, but he had to be a professional to be in a band, not acting like child.

“Listen, Eddie and I talked this morning after- after everything, and we have decided something, hopefully you agree with us” you start and the knot becomes tighter realizing that is possible they won’t agree… what happens then?

Eddie and you tell the guys what you said this morning. After all the years trying to forget and move on from each other, and the love never went away. The fights and new people you’ve both gone through and it never broke you two apart. If you still loved each other after all of that, there wasn’t something that an actual relationship could do to make you separate. Everything you’ve been doing trying to get over the love and trying to be just friends was risking the band more than any relationship could. All the toxicity of actually seeing each other with someone else and not being able to do or say anything was worse than any fight you could have as actual lovers.

You explained everything to them and now it was their turn to say what they think.

“I’ve had to see you two wanting to kill each other and the people you’re with because of the jealousy. You’ve written songs about that, maybe the 90% of our whole discography is about this, about wanting to be together but not being able to. I think the love you have for each other is stronger than each of you and you should stop being afraid of what could happen to the band if you break up, and actually being fucking happy with each other. I’m sick and tired of the Megans and the Rudys or Steves, and the look on your faces when you have to act as if you’re just friends” Gareth explains. “Just fucking be together finally and pull yourselves and us out of that misery”

Eddie laughs at how Gareth puts it, and you smile.

You turn to look at Jeff and you think you’ve never been this nervous.

He sighs noticing all the eyes on him awaiting. “I’m really happy you can see you belong together. Don’t think that what I said this morning means I don’t love you two and you both being happy. I was just scared of what would happen to the band, because I fucking love making music with you three idiots. I agree with Gare, just fucking get together already and cut the shit”

You all laugh at Jeff’s words.

“So, does that mean the band is still good?” you ask him.

“With no end in sight” he confirms and you feel so relieved. You run to hug him and he hugs you back, the two boys behind you join the group hug and you confirm that the band’s never been better than what is to come.

After lunch you make sure to talk to Rafe too explaining everything. And he agrees on the idea to keep quiet on it for some time. But luckily he’s very supportive of you.

It’s Eddie time to call Megan now, and it’s safe to say he’s not really looking forward to it.

He dials her number and after a few tones, she picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Meg"

"Eddie, hi! Wasn't expecting your call so soon"

"Yeah, I know, but I felt like I should. Sorry for not calling after the show last night"

"No worries. How'd it go?"

"It was awesome. The crowd here is unreal. I’m looking forward to play again tonight"

"That's great! Did you go out after or stayed in?"

"W-we did go out, yeah"

"Oh, cool"

"Listen, Megan, there's something I need to talk to you about" he begins, not being able to keep the small talk any longer.

"Okay, sure" she responds, her tone growing serious as she waits for him to continue.

"When we get back to LA next week, I think... I think we really need to have a… conversation" he says, cringing at his choice of his words.

"...Okay. Is everything okay, Eddie?" Is it… It’s not good, is it?” she asks in a serious tone. Eddie takes a few seconds to answer again.

“…No… it’s not. I don’t want you to overthink anything, but I thought it would just be cruel to… I don’t know, take you by surprise with it when I come back”

Though Eddie can't see her, Megan nods, nervously biting her lip. They both understand the unspoken implications behind "we need to talk," yet they can’t voice it already.

She's somewhat grateful he called to give her a heads-up, as painful as it is. Compared to the other guys she's dated, who might have dumped her over the phone or pretended everything was fine until they met in person, all in all, Eddie's approach feels more considerate.

"I'm serious, Meg. I don’t want you overthinking it” he insists

"Okay, I won't" she assures him. "See you, Eddie"

"Yeah... Bye, Meg" he says softly before they hang up.

He goes back to the guys with an expression you can’t really read.

“How did it go?” you ask.

“As good as it could, I guess. It was awkward and we didn’t really know what to say, I was trying not to say much so we can actually talk when I see her, but I didn’t want her overthinking why I’m breaking up with her… I don’t know, she didn’t say much either, there was a lot of silence”

“Yeah well, I’m guessing you’re not really someone she wants to talk to right now” Jeff says and Eddie nods.

“You ok?” you get closer to him; you didn’t like seeing him like this. A smile forms on his face, softening his features when he sees you worrying over him.

“I’m fine baby” he assures you but you hug him nonetheless, and he rests on the couch so you can cuddle.

The week flies by perfectly for both of you. New York is always a favorite, feels even more magical with Eddie by your side at all times. You seize every spare moment to soak up the city's vibes, wandering its streets hand in hand, delighting in each other's company.

If someone who didn’t know you two at all witnessed how you are privately, they would think you’re in a relationship of many many years. You’re always all over each other, touching in any way possible; you’re walking around the city and he has his arm around your waist, holding your hand or with his hand inside your pocket; you’re having dinner or driving somewhere and he has a hand on your thigh; you’re hanging out with the boys and you’re cuddling; you’re waiting for the elevator and you’re hugging him by his waist. Not to mention that you’ve booked two separate rooms but you’re only using one, since you’re sleeping together every night; and well, let’s just say that you’ve spend the week making up the lost time in the bedroom as well. Or as Gareth so kindly puts it: getting at it like rabbits.

But after you finish the three remaining shows on Ney York, it was time for LA, and you knew Eddie was a bit nervous about his overdue conversation with Megan, who technically was still his girlfriend.

The flight to Los Angeles passed by quickly since you slept the whole journey.

You had lunch and then rehearsal at the venue. In your way to the backstage one of the security guys tells Eddie that his girlfriend has arrived and is waiting for him.

“Okay, it’s time now… wish me luck” he says before heading to the room the security guy signalled.

He enters the room and sees Megan sat on one of the chairs.

“Hey” he greets her.

“Hi, how are you? How was the flight?”

“Fine, I just slept through it”

“Oh good, I heard a little of the rehearsal, you guys sound amazing”

“Thanks yeah, we changed the set list a bit so it’s not the exact same all the time” he explains giving in the small talk.

“Sounds good”

“How’s work?” he intends to ask her but she doesn’t answer his question.

“Eddie, can we just talk please?”

“Yeah, sorry. I um- I needed to talk to you because I have… fucked up a little” he finally says.

“What happened?” she asks but Eddie takes a few seconds to respond. Opens and shuts his mouth a couple of times until he says it. She has probably been wondering what actually happened ever since he called her.

“I cheated on you”

She nods her head, not looking at him now, eyes locked somewhere on the floor.

“With?” she asks and Eddie once again waits a few seconds until he tells her your name. She nods again, a sinister smile forming on her face.

“Is it funny?” he asks her now, frown forming on his face to show his confusion.

“No, just should’ve seen it coming” she says.

“I’m sorry”

“I bet you are. When did it happen?”

“Night before I called you” he can’t even look at her.

“So this whole week you spend it fucking her, didn’t you?”

“Meg…”

“No, what happened to ‘it´s all just for show’? All that flirting was actually real?” she’s accusing him but with a calmed voice that’s only freaking him out more.

“I’m sorry, okay? I don’t- I don’t even know what else to say. I shouldn’t have lied to you, I shouldn’t have even put you in the middle of all this. I’m really sorry” he says sincerely.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have, but you did. Just like you shouldn’t have fucked her while you we were still together!” she waits for him to say something but he stays quiet. “Well, say something!”

“What? What else do you want me to say? Want me to tell you how it happened?!” he asks sarcastically but she actually says yes.

“Alright, yeah. Fucking tell me”

“No, I’m not gonna-“

“Say it!” she orders and he knows she not going to let it go, so he sighs and starts talking.

“After the second night we all went out to the after party. Started drinking with her, a lot. Started… flirting with her, a lot. Then I kissed her. And then we both went back to the hotel and slept together”

“Okay so, you slept with her because you were drunk, but then you called me basically telling me we were braking up. So you didn’t regret it” she accuses him.

“What? If I had regretted it would you have forgiven me?” he asks her angrily.

“No, I wouldn’t have. But clearly it didn’t take a lot of convincing from her part to dump me and run to her!”

“Don’t- just be angry at me, not at her” he tells her and she can’t believe those words actually came out of his mouth.

“You’ve been in love with her all throughout our relationship, haven’t you?!” she realizes. And Eddie is left with no other choice than just nod his head in affirmation, she’s right and she caught him. She laughs.

“Okay… I’m gonna leave now, can’t really keep looking at you” she decides. She takes her jacket and before opening the door she speaks again. “Thanks for the complete waste of time that this relationship was”

Eddie thinks he could say the same to her, but obviously doesn’t say. He knows it’s all his fault.

While Eddie and Megan talked, the three of you waited in another room. More people of the staff started to arrive already, it was still a few hours until show time, but they needed to get everything set up.

At one point, one of the woman of the dressing department came up to you saying it was time to pick tonight’s outfit. You all followed her into the hall and she showed you different options.

Gareth and Jeff chose their clothes first, she left Eddie for later since he wasn’t here yet. She started showing you some dresses, some tops with pants or skirts. And as you evaluated the different options, you heard someone opening a door and storming out. When you lift your gaze to see who it was you’re met with an angry Megan and Eddie walking out behind her. She meets your gaze and she smiles, but it was not a ‘nice to see you’ smile at all.

“Look who it is! Are you picking the outfit for tonight, let’s see what would Eddie like the most?” she says sarcastically.

“Megan, leave her alone!” Eddie warns her, but she doesn’t stop there.

“Did you have fun fucking my boyfriend behind my back? I bet you really did, didn’t you?” she accuses you. “You’re such a fucking slut just begging for his attention”

You wanted to say something but words didn’t come out. You just froze looking at her offended.

“Alright, that’s enough. Everybody saw you little show, now leave!” Eddie gets in the middle of you two. But that doesn’t stop her either.

“You know she only did this so you’d look at her instead of me, right? But as soon as I leave she’s gonna dump you again, ‘cause that’s all she wants; your attention on her, but she doesn’t want you. She’s just a bratty slut only wanting the toy when someone else has it” she keeps accusing you, you’re frozen on the spot, not being able to walk out or say anything back at her.

“James!” Eddie calls the security guy while keeping Megan off of you. “JAMES!”

As soon as James gets there he asks Megan to leave the stadium. And don’t get me wrong, she is petty, but no so petty to have to be carried away by security, so she just laughs one more time at the situation and walks away to where James guides her. Not without insulting you once more screaming “bye slut” and then walking away.

—

“Flamingo pink, Sunrise Boulevard. Clink, clink. Being this young is art” you sing into the microphone, the crowd erupting into screams as they recognize the song. It's the opening night of the new tour, result of the hard work that you’ve put into the latest album. Touring remains your favorite part of this job. Yours and the whole band’s as well.

 “Got lovestruck, went straight to my head, got lovesick, all over my bed, love to think you'll never forget handprints in wet cement. Adorned with smoke on my clothes, lovelorn and nobody knows, love thorns all over this rose. I'll pay the price, you won't” the pre-chorus begins, Eddie’s guitar guiding you on the times of the song, feeling the rhythm and energy coursing through the venue.

“But if I’m all dressed up they might as well be looking at us, and if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once, and if I'm gonna be drunk I might as well be drunk in love” you playfully add a little embodying the lyrics' sentiment.

“Everyone wants him, that was my crime, the wrong place at the right time, and I break down, then he's pulling me in. In a world of boys, he's a gentleman” The chorus rolls in, and you can't help but revel in the lyrics, especially the line you know Eddie adores. You sing with a smile, amused by Eddie's attempt to hide his giddiness.

“This is luxury. You're not saying you're in love with me. But you're going to. Half awake, taking your chance it's a big mistake, I said ‘It might blow up in your pretty face’ I'm not saying ‘do it anyway’ but you're going to” Transitioning into the bridge, the words flow effortlessly. Singing this song feels like flirting with Eddie live in front of the big crowd. But then again, that’s just another Tuesday at work for you, and you’re far from complaining.

Eddie remains as your loyal supporter, amazed by the way you’ve turned a horrible experience with his ex into a beautiful piece of art. He will forever be your number one fan.

[groundzero-v]

Titles tag game

Thank you @roalinda for tagging me! 💕

List the titles of your top 5 priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers)

An upcoming scene, event or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which of the top 5 wips are they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

Titles

1. Revenge *is* the answer (worktitle, Prongsfoot)

Set in a version of the wizarding world where ghosts work a bit differently, Sirius and James team up to hunt Peter Petigreew down.

Or: James comes back (sort of), breaks Sirius out of Azkaban (finally) and decides whoever betrayed them both doesn't deserve to live on.

2. Marauder's Guide to Saving the Wizarding World (Prongsfoot)

I suppose everyone is tired of me talking about this one, but it's my only published wip 😄 James and Sirius compete as a team in the Triwizard Tournament which sets things that were never supposed to happen in their time in motion. Marauders fight Voldemort AU!

Includes lots of Marauder banter, feels, questionable humour, prongsfoot moments and brand new tasks in the tournament

3. No title yet. Star Wars AU + transmigration* (Prongsfoot)

The Proud Immortal Sith Way was a webnovel with an average rating of 2.5. It was, quite frankly, a piece of shit. The only thing that kept James reading, day after day, was the main character, the Jedi turned Sith, Sirius Black.

Sirius' whole life was filled with misfortune and pain. Upon entering the Order he received nothing but distain and distrust from everyone around him, even from his Master. It was no wonder he turned to the Dark side when everyone was just a useless NPC!

'How is it fair that Sirius had to spend the rest of his life in misery after suffering this whole time?!!’ James wrote at 1AM into the comment section of yet another chapter that had Sirius traveling the galaxy and adding another one-chapter, useless love interest to his harem.

The same night, James died. When he woke up, he was in the novel, the words 'Fine, do better,' apprearing in front of his eyes before they blipped out of existence.

*((A variation of SVSS for those aware, but should be totally alright to read without any knowledge of SW or SVSS^^))

4. Fantasy/Knights of the Round table AU (Prongsfoot)

Fantasy, Arthur & Knights of the Round table AU. James in the place of Arthur, future king, and Sirius as Lancelot, his most loyal knight. Features sword-magic, epic adventures and magical creatures. A very much just a concept for now

An upcoming scene, event or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing:

1. Prongsfoot just...being feral for each other, absolute devotion to the max. They have finally reunited again and there's nothing that can stop them. Also just them...trespassing everywhere 😄 Besides that, definitely the confrontation with Peter!!

2. I'm pretty excited about the Second Task of the Tournament (and a bit scared since I had to create it, hopefully it's interesting). But other than that, to be very vague haha, Prongsfoot meeting Voldemort for the first time!🙈 (There is a line that started this whole fic that I have been waiting to use and its coming closer with each day!!)

3. It's so different so I have to say there're so many things I'm really excited about. Figuring out who should be who in the SW universe is a lot of fun, but I think I'm mostly looking forward to James and Sirius being absolutely unstoppable with lightsabers and the Force. The aspect of the transmigration is also something I'm really really looking forward to

4. I love fantasy so puttting Prongsfoot in there is just a dream. A scene I'm most excited about is Sirius getting knighted by James and swearing his loaylty to him 🥹

Tagging (no pressure and sorry if you were already tagged!) @lovelymasks @jmagnabo92 @cassiaratheslytherpuff @gracelesslady23 @prongsfoot4life @solitaire-sol @mycupofrum @siriuslystarbucks @siriuslycomplex

[starbeltconstellation]

Hello again! ✨💕

So… I know I was saying a while ago: “I’m almost done with my chapter, guyssss! 😜” like a lying liar who lies, but then the worst thing happened in my life, fr. 😭

My brother got put in the hospital (he’s okay now though! ❤️ Thank GOD 😭😮‍💨).

But anyway, it set me back on my chapter. 😭 So I’m not even gonna say I’m almost done or something. Ima just be like… I haven’t abandoned it and will never discontinue it. ✊😖 So… I hope that offers you all comfort. Lol.

Anyways! Moving on to more AWESOME things! Here is two ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL AND ASTONISHING fanart pieces on my SW Fic, Rewrite the Stars, focused on my SW OC, Melanie Bains, from the great and powerful artist known as @fangirlteallie ! 😁❤️💕

And there is also another doodle fanart page she sent me of Mel in different outfits that I always love so much. 🥰 Haha. Love that sleep deprived one and the one with Mel sticking her tongue out. Looool. 😂

As always, it is truly such an honor and a joy to have an an amazing artist such as @fangirlteallie so inspired and invested in bringing Mel to life. It’s so motivating to me as an author, and is one of the highest compliments an author can receive in my opinion. 😊 So just that future tip for anyone wanting a fave fic to start up again. 😂 Making fanart is a sure fire way to make an author go “Ahhhhh! Agsvsjhabsjbsb!!” ❤️❤️😂

Thanks so very much again! 💕

As always, still working on the next chapter 😭(I have decided to NEVER make a chapter this long againnn. 😖 I’ll just have to think up new Fic titles and quotes at the start of the chapters that’ll still fit the theme of the chapter, even if I have to split it up into two parts).

So very sorry, my little reader ducklings. 💔🥺 I just don’t want to rush it and spit out trash. 😭😖

It’ll be so, SO worth it when I’m done though, because you will have lots of Melakin scenes to tide you all over. Hehe. 💓🥰❤️‍🔥

My writing has also just improved a lot as well in general! So l'm very proud of this chapter, and will be so excited to share it with you all when I'm done. 💕🥰❤️

Until next timeee! 😜👋

The two AMAZING art pieces:

In the second one, Mel is holding Anakin’s right hand to her heart and pulling him subtly away from Palpatine. Anakin’s other is the one on her waist. The second art piece is one I specifically requested because it’s an idea that’s been stuck in my head for awhile from another art piece I saw on Obi-Wan and Palpatine holding each of Anakin’s shoulders, which shows the hold they both have over him.

So in this art piece, Mel and Palpatine are the ones fighting for a hold over Anakin. And as you can see from the crinkles in Anakin’s robes, dear old Palpy is trying to keep his claws dug in deep, because he’s already subtly losing his hold over Anakin as Anakin turns away from him and more towards the light (Mel. 🤭❤️💕). My and @fangirlteallie ‘s mindssss. The meta of it alllll. 🙌😌💙💙✨

The funny/cool Mel doodle of the week 😜:

Tags:

@ensomniaa

@heartfairy

@fangirlteallie

@xreadersunite

@shoniwake

[streets-in-paradise]

Our Fight - Hector x (Fem)Reader

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Requested by Anon

" Heyyy, I read some of your Troy 2004 fics and I'm sooo in love with how you write them. Your writing is so good. I thought maybe you could do a Hector one because my man is underrated, I don't have a specific idea in mind but particularly I'm someone who likes a little angst, those where maybe Hector gets back from battle hurt or his wife is hurt somehow, perhaps by Paris in someway, maybe a protective Hector in the scene... it can be with Andromache or a Fem reader too, I just thought of this idea. I said it but again I love your writing so much, spent nights finishing it all hahaha, have a super good day :D "

Awww, thank you so much again 💕💕

I'm so sorry this took me so long to post, some stuff irl is affecting my mood and it's becoming harder to keep up with a writing schedule. Hope you will still see it and it will be of your liking. Protective Hector is something i really need rn, so I went for that route, with Paris hurting his brother's wife emotionally during an argument. I made it a x reader because i feel it was more fitting for the idea i had in mind given it's influenced on how i'm feeling.

Warnings: Angst with comfort, feelings of hopelessness.

Summary: An altercate with Paris brings to the surface all your fears and insecurities for the future and after standing up for you, Hector does his best to calm you in a private sharing of your burdens.

Tags: @g-m-kaye

As a daughter of the same land, the actions of your brother in law filled you with indignation. As a member of the family, you were still trying to understand. The constant comparisons Paris attempted to make between your marriage and his were offensive, even if the only point of genuine closeness was the fact that both were based in love. 

For that foreign wife he sold the future of your country, and you felt that you would never be able to forgive him, at least as a trojan sheltered by the same nation. His reckless offer to win back the people’s trust by fixing the problem he had caused meant very little to you. Despite his good intentions, the goodness of his heart would never be enough to stop Agamemnon. Your mercy was reserved for Helen, who you couldn’t blame for wanting to escape at the first chance presented to her given the horrors she must have endured as the sister in law of the cruel mycenaean king. She had proven to her protectors she understood the risks, but the sudden finding of hope in her sad life encouraged her to take a rushed choice. 

After living a romantic fantasy in Sparta, reality was smacking Paris in the face as you wished you could. 

“ Do you even dimension the consequences of your actions, or have you delegated all perceptions of guilt on Helen?” You were calling him out, as soon as you heard of the pointless duel proposition. “ Giving a spectacle that looks like accountability will not solve anything, not even to show the trojan soldiers you are willing to risk your life the same way they do for you. There is an empire on the rise behind the angered husband, and we are the most persistent obstacle in its way. All we have left is deciding if we, as a nation, want to die fighting or live as slaves.” 

“ I’m doing the best I can! “ The naive young man defended himself. "But if what you seek is to make me regret my choice, I must warn that is not going to happen. “ 

You fulminated him with your glance, then looked at Hector as if you seeked he would calm down the fire inside of you before things could get worse. 

“ So what? Do you expect me to stand up and clap you? My husband could be slaughtered because of your intempestive reaction to being denied something for the very first time in your life!”

Paris took that offense very seriously and stopped measuring his phrasing. 

“ Maybe Hector should have married a princess of Hatti, so a friendly empire would be on our side. If you think love is so expendable, give up on yours.” 

For a harmless little man, Paris was capable of wrecking you with his words during harsh arguments. If the duel would take place in a council, instead of a battlefield, he would effortlessly destroy Menelaus. 

Hector knew his brother had gone too far, and he stopped him for you before the provocations would destroy your nerves. 

“ I have given up enough for you, Paris, and I’m still waiting to be compensated for it. “ He warned him. “ Don’t mistake my will of service with absolute disinterest for my own life. I earned my right to sporadic selfishness as a prince and warrior, while you have been selfish from birth. Ask yourself if you would have cared for Helen's unlucky marriage if she wouldn't have mesmerized you in the first place. Would you have offered shelter to a suffering greek girl, if she wouldn’t be the famously proclaimed beauty of the century? "

The youngest prince remained silent, acknowledging his defeat, but his brother didn’t care about that anymore. He could tell you were affected by the poisonous strike, regardless of his avenging protectiveness. 

In the sacred shelter of your thalamus you released your emotions, a moment of private comfort after facing so much pain in the short span of the greek’s arrival. 

“ I’m proud of your speech, you spoke fairly. Sometimes you are the only one who dares to challenge Paris when he deserves it, despite how father protects him.” He attempted to cheer you, holding you in his arms with loveful softness. “ He needs to hear the truth, I believe both need it. “

“ Sadly, that’s our fight. How can we save a nation unaware of its own demise?” You wondered out loud, sharing a frustration that was mutual. “ The illusion of choice is what has been presented to us. If we fight this war, chances are we will lose and get erased from the face of earth by the force of an empire that hates us too strongly to allow a mark of our passing to remain in history. If we give up, we will survive in an obscure existence as servants of this power. Our children will die in wars being fought far away from us, for reasons that aren’t even of our concern… Perhaps fighting men that look closer to them than the master, other asians attempting to resist the expansion. Tales won’t mourn their passing, eclipsed by the songs of the greek heroes guiding them to doom. They will be lost in the herds of submitted armies that Agamemnon keeps as reserve, hopeless men dying for his greed. Maybe even you would find your end in one of those never ending cycles and your tomb will be placed far away from Troy, where I will not be able to cry for you.” 

The dark presumptions you were announcing like an omen, although frightening due to your flawless logic, inspired on him the strength that he felt failing when Achilles killed Tecton. If then he doubted the course to take, he got reminded there were only two grim possibilities to pick and he knew which one he despised over anything. 

“ Could this be the last war we will be fighting for ourselves? The end of trojan history? It will be,for sure, if we don’t try it.” 

He seemed more determined than before, as if your opinion would have help him accommodate the contradicting thoughts in his mind.

“ Do you now wish you would have married the Hatti princess?” 

Hector answered wordlessly, by giving you a passionate kiss that neither of you stopped tasting until the need for air became unbearable. 

“ I will dedicate all my efforts into making sure you will get to rule Troy as my Queen.” He concluded, whispering near your lips. “ … To my last breath, you will see Paris is not the only stubborn man of the family.” 

You caressed his hair as you delivered your reply.

“ I don’t need a throne, all I ever wanted is to be your wife.” You reassured him, taking care that he won’t be putting too much pressure on himself. “ … but how I would love to kick that emperor away from our land and see all the slaves rise …  ‘If Troy could resist him, so can we’, they will say, and I bet you will hear Achilles has started the rebellion with the discontented soldiers. “

He stared at you in wonder of your clever guesses, wishing he could find the way of making you introduce those to his father and see if something would stick with him. 

“ That is, without doubt, an excellent theory. It’s precisely why Agamemnon can’t give up, unless we make him.” 

You showed him a prideful smile that was followed by more kisses. 

“ Our fight doesn’t look so hopeless after all. “ You commented later, regarding a brief change in your own mood. “ There is a lot at risk, but we are not the lost case Agamemnon wants us to feel. He is more doomed if he loses, and he commands a bunch of demoralized men with nothing of their own to fight for.” 

“ This is why I don't make my final choices before our late night talks.” Hector replied. squeezing the embrace a little tighter. “ My mind is more clear when I’m with you, even at the darkest hours of my life.” 

[olderthannetfic]

All this talk of fic deletion or orphaning has got me thinking back to a multi chapter fic I submitted to AO3 late March of last year.

In the beginning I was proud of it, because it was the first fic I had put up on my page after a year and a half long writers’ block. I used to be so happy that I made something and I was even inspired to write a few shorter fics after that for the same source media.

But as time went on, I started to doubt that story I put on the Archive back in March ‘22.

I started noticing every single flaw it had, without thinking of its merits. (I’m starting to wonder if it had any merits to begin with.)

To name its flaws off the top of my head, there's no nuance or gray morality (Protagonist Right, Antagonist Wrong, played completely straight), one character gets kidnapped just to give the protagonist someone to angst over and rescue, the protagonist is portrayed as if he's already learned the lesson from the very end of his canon arc (to fight for the future instead of being stuck in the past) and this AU takes place in the middle of his arc, and finally, the ending is a long, drawn out mess that I needed to trim significantly.

So now, in February 2023, I think about this fic and regret it deeply. I should have given it more time. I should've been really thinking about each scene I wrote, why I wrote it and how it serves the story. I should have given more thought to the type of story I was telling!

Instead I put it out on the Archive with very little wait time and I see no way to fix it outside of a complete overhaul (which I do not have time or energy to do.)

I truly don't know what to do.

I also do not understand why my readers never pointed this story's flaws out to me in comments, when I can see them clear as day.

I've been told to leave it up as a way to show my growth, to move on because what's complete is complete and there's nothing more to be done with that particular project. Most of all, I've been told time and time again not to be too hard on myself, but I don't know any other way to be.

Writing a contrived, cliched, horrible mess of a thing is nothing to be proud of, after all. I'm not a beginner, this isn't my first ever fic, English is my first and only language, and I have read enough books to know and do better.

I have no excuse for writing something so shameful.

--

This sounds like mental illness, not a realistic assessment of your fic.

Besides, what's so shameful about bad writing? Lots of people who aren't that young and have been writing for a while still post fairly crummy fic to big archives. That's nothing new and not a big deal.

I think you should leave the fic up as is, but I also think you need to address this mindset because it cannot be healthy for you.

[tollingreminiscentbells]

Hi! I was just rereading All changed, changed utterly and I only now realized that Alastor has never gotten around to using that favor that Charlie owes him. I suppose he didn't have to, but I was wondering if he knew what he wanted from her at that moment, or if it was just a "what if" safety measure and opportunism from his side. Is their deal something you plan to explore in the future or is it gonna remain a mystery? :0

Big fan of your writing by the way, I've never reread anything as many times as this story and I can't wait for your southern gothic series! Thanks for sharing your stories, they're a delight ❤️

Total honesty: I've never had any intention of using Alastor's deal with Charlie for anything. I actually only included it in A Terrible Beauty because it's in the show and, when I wrote that fic, my plan was for it to be a one-shot. But the way I framed the scene from Alastor's perspective, it is just opportunism and he had no particular reason to make the deal except that he could.

At this point, Alastor trying to call in that favor would just cause tension with Lucifer and there's nothing Charlie can do for him that's worth the inevitable fight. So you can just assume that it will never be seen or heard from again. Alastor has the satisfaction of having made a deal with Charlie, but he's never going to do anything with it.

I'm so glad you enjoy my fics and that you're excited for A Momentary Radiance! It's such a compliment that you've reread All changed so many times and still love it! <3

[julia-woolf]

a spawn astarion x fem!tav reader oneshot/

Hello! I’m new at this so please excuse any errors. This is my first Fic about Astarion and the first one after like 10 years. This is probably not factual, it’s inspired by dialogues Astarion has and cut scenes that had been stuck in my mind, any ways I wanted to write something where you can tell how much this man means to you wathever it happens.

Sorry if I make grammar mistakes, English it’s not my first language

Hope you enjoy!

“I won’t leave you”

Summary: This takes place before you’ll fight cazador, at this point you have slept once with Astarion and have agreed to feed him daily, but he has asked to not make it sexual for now, and you agree to his request knowing how much he has gone through. You are willing to accept his boundaries and will do whatever it takes to help him heal. He is setting his mind to go fight his captor but when you tell him to accompany him, but he denies.

//

-I’ll go alone, and there’s nothing more to add

Astarion stands distant as you frown and shake your head slowly, you are worried for him

-But I don’t want you to go alone

He stops his attitude and suddenly grounds again lowering his voice with a self deprecating tone-You don’t have to pity me, enough is for me to use you as a snack

your heart tightens, you just want him to be happy, slowly and waiting for his approval you take his face in your hands

-you are precious to me Astarion, and will always be, there’s no one as especial as you are, I don’t pity you, I accepted this arrangement because it helps you, as long as I can do that I’m happy, and I’ll be here for you, whatever you decide, but please don’t ask me to leave you alone

As you speak silent tears runs through his pale cheeks, his gaze turns away, he doesn’t want to be seen so vulnerable, he has come to find your presence wonderful, and it’s scared, that he might be feeling deeper things.

-I should do this alone, I can’t drag anyone else with me…- His voice, slow and muffled, only confirms for you what he thinks. It breaks your heart to think that Astarion would consider himself a burden to you or any of your friends. But you have repressed your feelings many times in the past, you have repressed things that you should have said, and this will not be one of those times.

-Astarion- you search for his crimson gaze- You could and never be a burden to me, in any way. I know things haven’t been easy, this is an especial thing and my heart couldn’t want anyone else’s company but yours, wherever that takes me. Let me go with you.

He steps back just a little, setting just a little distance bewtwen you two. Your words almost make him smile and you can swear that for a second his gaze was softening.

-I can do it alone Tav, and as sweet as you sound I don't need any help

He puffs out his chest with pride, that superficial pride and vanity with which he has covered his feelings for years, now so common to use and do that he even finds it comforting to use it to hide himself.

-And I’m sure you can- You say softly, you know he could do it alone, you know Astarion would achieve whatever he wanted if he put his mind to it, but slowly and gently you seek contact with his pale and familiar hand. Suddenly amazed by your support, he looks at your eyes again without rejecting the contact of your hands, as you go on.

-You could probably do it all alone, I would like nothing more than for you to know how much I trust that you can, that you have the power to decide what your own future will be. But I want to be there, maybe just so that when you look to the side or behind you, you can see that I'll catch your back always. I know things have changed between us, I still have strong feeling for you, but besides those we are friends Astarion, I want to help my pointy eared friend- you smile.

His firm fingers have held your hand tight, refusing to let it go and when you finish speaking his eyes just look straight at you, they are glassy and his chest fills quickly, he searches for the words to express to you what he feels, how warm and calm he feels his heart. It quickly moves towards you, covering you with a sudden but wonderfull hug. Without hesitation you hug him back, you realize you wouldn’t deny this man anything. His arms surround you and you can smell the smell of bergamot and spices in his tent and on his clothes, with his head hidden between your neck as he murmurs -thank you Tav…thank you so much.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 12

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Every muscle in your body screamed as you fell into the dark. You didn’t even know when you started to fall, but the air was sucked from your lungs as you plunged into the depths. Your arms rose above your head, fingers grasping desperately for something to hold onto, but the water that engulfed you offered no purchase. Your hair floated around your face like a dark halo as you thrashed and kicked wildly, the fabric of your nightgown billowing around you. Your eyes widened, mouth opening in a burst of bubbles as you let out a muffled, watery scream, sinking deeper into the pitch-black water. No matter how you struggled, you only sank further, the pressure of the water growing, squeezing the last bit of air from your lungs. Eventually, you stopped fighting, your arms going limp above your head, legs floating beneath you, hair drifting like seagrass as you descended.

From everywhere and nowhere, Azriel’s voice echoed in your mind, “I want this to be done.” You turned your head, your eyes burning as you peered into the inky blackness around you. “Life of luxury,” the voice continued to echo as you began to thrash again. “I know my own suffering,” the bodiless voice screamed out, overlapping with, “They don’t want to leave,” and “Do you want that?” All these phrases echoed over one another, blending into a cacophony of torment.

You brought your hands to your ears, pushing out an unheard, breathless scream as you shook back and forth, trying to shake the voices that were coming from your own mind. “Do you want me to rip them from their homes? Life of luxury. Do you want that? I know my own suffering. I want this to be done. Life of luxury. I want this to be done,” the voices overlapped, harmonizing with the voice of your mate, “What do you want from me? What do you want from me? What do you want from me?” The questions came first from far away, then as if someone were whispering in your ear, then from your left, right, close, far, above. You couldn’t place them as they screamed and whispered to you.

You slammed your eyes shut, releasing bubbles as you screamed in silent agony.You curled your knees to your chest, and then, with a thump, you found yourself on your knees, curled over, dripping water from your hair and body as you shook, coughed, and cried out water from your lungs.

“What do you want from me?” a voice asked, the voice of your mother.

“I want to see her,” said an unknown male voice.

“No,” your mother responded. You lifted your head from your hands and took in the black room you were in, the rock floor hard beneath you as the sounds of drips echoed against it. In front of you, you saw your mother’s face, shadowed and indistinct. Facing away from you was the figure of a male, also obscured and shadowed. “I won’t allow that,” your mother responded.

You wiped the water from your eyes as you watched, the only light in the entire room focused on them. “Mama,” you reached out to her, but she didn’t turn to you, nor did it seem she heard you.

“She is my child,” the male responded.

“She is nothing to you,” your mother shot back.

“She is my property.”

“She is no more your property than I am.”

“You cannot keep her from me.”

“You pay me by the hour, you have not bought my life or hers.”

“Think of what I can offer her, Sile. Where she can grow up?”

“As a bastard child? And what will become of her?” your mother spat back, venom lacing her words as she turned away from the shadowed man.

“She will be a lady of the court, educated.”

Your mother turned again, “I will educate her!”

“You? A whore? Educate her on what? How to make a male come as quickly as possible so you can reap the reward?”

Your mother raised her hand as if to slap the male, but he gripped her wrist as she fought against him. “You would dare to lay a hand on me?”

“Let go of me!” your mother screamed, her eyes wide in shock.

You reached your own hand out to her, trying to get to your feet, which felt bolted to the ground. As you called out “Mama!” your own voice was met with a smaller, child’s voice. From behind you, a small female ran forward, past you, to the male who turned, his face encased in shadows, unable to be identified. The little girl ran towards your mother. The male released her wrist as your mother bent to her knees and pulled the little girl, no more than 20 years old, barely a toddler, up into a hug, the child curling her face into her neck as your mother cradled the child’s head to her throat.

“So this is my daughter?” the male voice rang out, his hand reaching out to attempt to stroke the child.

Your mother turned around. “She is not your concern.”

“She is mine, Sile,” the male responded.

The small child turned her head, and when you caught her eyes, you realized that the child was you. What was this memory? Or were you so waterlogged you couldn’t pull fiction from reality?

“Mama?” the little voice cooed out.

“Come on, baby,” your mother turned to walk away. The male gripped her by her hair, ripping her back around as she screamed out in pain, the little child reaching up to her mother, beating on the male’s arms while screaming at him to let her go.

“You will not keep her from me. And you will not turn your back on me,” the male screamed into her face.

Your mother never let you go as the male leaned in close, whispering something in her ear as he continued to grip her and pull her in close despite her pleas. When he let her go, she fell to her knees as the male, still shrouded in shadows, turned and called out as he walked away, “You can’t hide her, Sile. Enjoy your life of luxury.” Your mother sobbed as she positioned her body over your own childhood form.

You felt soft, yet sharp claws growing around your mind, scraping through the blackness of the room, and then the scene was over. Your eyes shot open and you were met with Rhysand’s face staring down over you, sweat pouring down your forehead and back as you let go of the sheets you had clenched in your grip.

You gasped and shot forward as Rhysand's hands steadied you, “Shh,” he whispered, trying to calm your ragged breathing.

You wheezed, still feeling as if water was rattling around in your lungs.

In an instant, Nesta was by your side, her arms wrapped around your shoulders. Rhysand stepped back from the bed. “Just breathe,” she reminded you, positioning herself in front of you. Her soft hands cradled your face, her thumbs tracing calming patterns on your cheeks. You took slow, deep breaths in sync with her, your eyes locked on hers.

When you finally leveled out, you took in the other occupants of the room. Rhysand stood against the wall, arms crossed, looking at you with concern. Feyre, hair a mess in her sleeping dress, stood next to him, her nails to her lips. At the foot of the bed, Azriel's eyes were hardened and wide, his knuckles white as he gripped the bedpost.

You finally managed to ask, “What happened?”

Nesta dropped her hands to her lap. “You had a nightmare.”

“Why is everyone in here?” you asked, your voice shaking.

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Nesta said, her voice trembling. “I tried shaking you, throwing water on you, screaming your name—nothing worked.”

Rhysand stepped in, “Nesta called me to help. I entered your mind to pull you out.”

You looked at him, your brows furrowing as you brought your hand to your temple, trying to calm the pounding within. “You did what?”

“I entered your mind,” Rhysand explained. “It’s one of my powers as High Lord. I can see what others are seeing and alter their thoughts.”

“You were in my mind?” you asked, incredulous.

Rhysand nodded.

“Have you,” you stammered, “have you been in my mind before?”

Rhysand’s eyes widened a bit as he chose his words carefully. “You seem to have a natural ability to shield my powers.”

Feyre added, “When you first got here, Rhys tried to help calm you down but couldn’t get past a wall you had put up.”

“I wouldn’t have entered without a good reason,” Rhysand said.

You shook your head, swallowing the bile that rose in your throat. “What did you see?”

Rhysand paused. “I saw your dream.”

“That wasn’t a memory. That never happened,” you shot back.

“I saw what you were dreaming, then. And you were screaming inside. I also felt another presence—a male.”

Azriel gripped the bedpost tighter.

Your eyes flitted between Azriel and Rhysand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhysand shifted slightly. “You never hear a voice other than your own in your head?”

You paused, considering.

“I ask,” Rhysand continued, “because it seems like a mated connection. It’s a bond, and yours was hidden, but I could still hear that voice.”

Azriel quickly released the bedpost, turning on his heel and leaving the room with a furious hiss.

Feyre’s face dropped as she pressed her hand into Rhysand’s shoulder, following Azriel out. Rhysand just looked at you, concern etched in his features.

You looked back and forth between Nesta and Rhysand, your hands clenching and unclenching the bed sheets damp with your sweat. Finally, you began, “What else did you see?”

Rhysand shrugged slightly, maintaining his serious demeanor. “Not much. You’ve built a very strong wall.”

Nesta turned over her shoulder to look at him. You tried to catch her expression but couldn’t quite make it out. Rhysand held up his hand to silence her before she could speak.

Nesta turned back to you, grabbing your hands in hers and offering a tight smile.

“I need to get some sleep,” Rhysand said. “Nesta, I’ll meet with you tomorrow.” Rhysand nodded in your direction, and you flashed him a thankful smile, tinged with slight embarrassment. Nesta didn’t turn to look at the High Lord, who quickly left the room, heading down the hall the same way Feyre had gone.

Nesta continued to hold your hands, her thumbs gently rubbing the backs. She swallowed, looking down and then back up at you. “Look,” she began, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But I think it could help if you let me know even a little bit about what’s going on with you.” Her voice carried a slight plead. “You aren’t here. You always seem to be somewhere else.” She looked back down at her hands, her lips tightening. “I know what it’s like to be stuck inside yourself. And you don’t have to do that alone.”

You smiled lightly as Nesta looked back at you. “It’s nothing. I’m worrying you all for nothing. I just didn’t sleep well. Had a nightmare.”

Nesta scoffed slightly, and your eyes met hers. “Y/N, you’ve been screaming the same name every night. You thrash like someone is attacking you, you jump at every little sound, and if any male enters the room, you immediately tense up.”

You pulled your hands from Nesta’s, wrapping them around your knees, your face turned down.

“Y/N, I don’t want anything other than for you to feel safe,” Nesta offered.

“I do feel safe,” you responded.

“I want you to feel safe when you’re alone.”

You peered up at Nesta slightly. “Nesta, why are you doing all this?”

Nesta looked taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know me.”

“Can’t I just want to help someone?”

You looked around the room. “Azriel brought me here, and you all have been generous in taking me in. But you don’t know me. You don’t have the time to be doing all of this, especially not Rhysand. And yet, you feed me, house me, care for me, and we’ve known one another not more than a few days.”

Nesta swallowed, just looking at you. “We just want what’s best for you.”

“Seems very generous.”

Nesta’s gaze turned slightly more distant as she scanned your eyes. You just stared back before you suddenly said, “Thank you, for everything, Nesta. But I think it’s time for me to go.”

You swung your legs over the side of the bed as Nesta tried to speak, calling out your name as you walked to the door.

“I’ll head out tomorrow morning,” you said, looking over your shoulder. “Please tell everyone thank you, for me.”

You could still hear Nesta calling your name as you walked down the hall, through the grand room, and back to your own suite, where you shut the door, laid down, and did not sleep.

To my lovely tagged readers, thank you for all the support and comments. It really encourages me to continue to write knowing that you all sit down with me for five minutes a day and get to peak into my head. Love you all!

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba

[tojisun]

Sun!, I would like to start by saying that I greatly admire your talent and ability to write. The way you are able to create stories, is simply fascinating. Every word you put on paper seems to have a unique intensity and depth. Your writing conveys such strong and immersive emotions that it feels like I can feel every feeling, every shiver, and every moment of tension. It's incredible how you capture these elements and convey them in such a vivid and impactful way.

One Of The Girls reminds me of the early stages of the reader's 'relationship' with toxic!biker!simon. Where the reader wants to be one of the girls and fully immerse themselves in Simon's life, even if it's just scraps of an unhealthy love (that never was).

Daylight, oh my God, it's the mid-stage, where the reader is not just with Simon because of his looks... But because she loves him, but at the same time she discovers how much he harms her, but she doesn't want to leave him, she can't, because she always goes back.

Elastic Heart is their final stage in the relationship... As you yourself said, sun, my sunshine. The reader will have a happy ending, but not with Simon. It's when she will realize that their "Relationship" was never so healthy.

So, sun!, look, my future husband, Leon Kennedy. Shhhh... Simon can't know-. But I've already moved on from toxic!biker!Simon-.

This is my husband, my current obsession, the muscles-.

oh my god mocha?? thank you so much for such kind words– im genuinely melting, giggling underneath my blanket and kicking my legs because of how thoughtful and kind this!! because of how thoughtful and kind you are!! im seriously speechless, unable to think past the giddiness rushing through me like, thank you again sweet luv <33

i am so so happy that u enjoy my works! that somehow, along my ramblings and run-ons, i was able to convey the emotions of a specific scene/fic :’> im glad that u get to enjoy interpreting it too!! (especially because biker!simon became such an endearing group project that i adore. i get so heart-achingly happy when i see ur guys’ asks n links n tags!!!)

time for the songs:

OH MY GOD??? ONE OF THE GIRLS BEING READER BEGGING SIMON FOR A SCRAP OF HIS AFFECTION – “we don’t gotta be in love / i don’t gotta be the one / i just wanna be one of the girls tonight” – OH I AM UNWELL!! and the way the song fully presents their ‘relationship’: how it’s a plea from the reader, how she tries finding love from him in something thats only physical and ephemeral, how he extends an inkling affection only to pull away and leave her with nothing. again.

(heaving so bad rn)

I DIDNT EXPECT DAYLIGHT TO BE PART OF THE TOXIC BIKER SERIES BUT I SEE IT SO CLEARLY!! “oh i love it and hate it at the same time” – the way she knows their arrangement is harmful to her, and the way she knows it’s laughable and pathetic how she’s always the one doing the running and waiting, but she can’t stop because when simon calls her, sometimes she thinks it’s love. AND the part that goes “hiding all of our sins from the daylight / … / you and i drink poison from the same vine” SHOWING THE WAY SIMON NEVER BRINGS HER TO HIS HOME. AND HOW SIMON, for all his tomfoolery and bitching, GRAVITATES TOWARDS HER. HOW HE COMES BACK TO HER TOO.

(im probably gonna gnaw my lip off at this point from how much im biting)

SIA AND ELASTIC HEART IS ALSO SMTHN I DIDNT EXPECT IN THE ROSTER AND YET IT MAKES SENSE HOLY SHIT. “you did not break me (but) i’m still fighting for peace” IS READER WHEN SHE MET PRICE HELLO? the way she was hesitant to trust him. hesitant to like him because she thought, ‘not again’. but then price shows her how it is to be loved. to be prioritized. to be cared for. and yeah she starts letting go of simon and starts forging a relationship with price and!!! SHE WILL BE HAPPY I PROMISE.

(i feel like a marionette. untethered and floaty because this whole.. meta? is so fucking good oh my god)

-

THATS LEON KENNEDY? UM. THE ARMS? THE CHEST?? THE HARNESS??? THE HAIR????

pause.

THE BIKE?????

somethings shifting in my brain hold on hold on hold on hol

[three--rings]

Vegaspete Recs

I had been thinking of making this list for a while, but @kprecfest has made me actually do it. 

Assume all of these are kinky and contain less than perfectly healthy bdsm dynamics.  In absolutely no order at all.

Fics Set During Canon:

like a trigger, get me ready to shoot by Lise aka @veliseraptor​  (M, 6K) Vegas POV character study, looking at his sadism, his violence, and his sexual history, leading up to keeping Pete prisoner and then Pete leaving.  Ends on a down note due to canon, but really well-explored.

Starving, Faithful by nonplussed (M, 19K) - Missing scenes from Pete’s POV between the shootout and the final VP scene in ep 14.  A little sad and angsty, a little soft, nicely done.  

Post-Canon Relationship Negotiation Fics:

This is really the flavor of VP I went looking for the most, so it’s gonna be a long list. 

The Storm Never Came by heyitsathrowaway (E, 4K) Set immediately upon Vegas waking up in the hospital, this fic aches with Vegas’s POV and issues and his initial reluctance to give in to how he really wants to treat Pete.

lion in my living room by Pettecal72 (E, 6K) A very sharp Vegas POV fic of his recovery, Pete bullying him into letting himself be cared for, and Vegas finally letting himself let go enough to be really mean to Pete in bed. 

begging to bleed by Lise aka @veliseraptor (E, 10K) - Pete gets tired of Vegas being careful with him, demands Vegas stop being nice.  Vegas rises to the challenge.  Very, very hot. 

yes, love can be the violence by dustbottle (E, 8K) - A long, slow recovery, with a good dollop of angst and pain along the way, but also some very soft romantic stuff, and kinky smutty bits, too. 

my desire that you feed by evashougouki (E, 4K) - Of all of these this is very possibly my favorite.  This fic has SHARP edges and it hurts in the very best way.  Vegas and Pete are hurting, especially Vegas.  They bury their feelings in sex, after talking about it a little. 

Post-Canon Plot Fics:

I struggled with the category for these, since using ‘plot’ is misleading. They are still mostly porn.  But they involve a new status quo for Vegaspete, them settled into their life together, maybe having a few adventures or interacting with the rest of the cast.

okay, baby, here’s the leash by ThirdActLove (E, 5K) - Vegas and Pete attend their first mafia gathering post canon, right after Vegas gives Pete a diamond collar to wear.  Sexy showing off of their kinks in public, tension with the main family, lovely smut.

give me your trust, look me in the eyes and confess your lust by petes_vegas (E, 43K) Okay look is this basically 43 K of smut?  Yes, yes it is.  Pete and Vegas have a competition to see which of them can make the other come more in a 24 hour period.

i fill you up, drink from my cup by petes_vegas (E, 7K) - Pete and Vegas have a fight right before going to a mafia gathering and both try to make each other jealous...

I’ll Swear That I Love You by YourKnightOfRage (E, 45K) - 3 years post canon, Pete wakes up from an accident with amnesia.  Last he remembered he was Vegas’s captive.   Vegas and everyone else have to help him learn to trust and settle into his life again.  Really fascinating look at a future for the couple, as well as exploring their past in a different way.  Also really very soft because it’s in the context of them as a happily married couple (with Venice as their kid.)

AU Fics:

Silver Circle by greygerbil (E, 16K) - Fake relationship, enemies to lovers fic in which Pete agrees/is forced to pretend to be Vegas’s new boyfriend/partner for plot reasons.  Vegas enjoys making him uncomfortable by making him play sub for him, except they both enjoy it...a lot.

If You Had Something to Lose by @raelle-writing (E, 169K, WIP) - This is the monster of this rec post, a currently updating WIP at 15 chapters/?  This is the only WIP I’m super actively reading right now, which is how much I’m enjoying it.  Pete is a college student who saves Vegas (still a mafia heir) from some yakuza.  They strike up a casual sexual relationship that ends up drawing Pete into Vegas’s world and not being so casual at all.  Side Kinn/Porsche in which Porsche is also just a random college student.  And also Chay/Macau.  There’s a reason this fic is approaching 200K. 

There are other fics I’m either in the middle of reading or have tabs open on or whatever, this is by no means exhaustive.

[eccentric-nucleus]

so, i finally finished (posting) my huge, novel-length teenage mutant ninja turtles fanfic. i just posted the final epilogue over on ao3!

here is my director's commentary on it, if you want to read even more about it. this contains spoilers for the whole thing. maybe read the epilogue first and sit with that for a minute. also this will probably be pretty incoherent if you haven't read the whole thing. it's just a disconnected series of thoughts i have about the story, really

man, this story. this is maybe the longest thing i've ever written? like 'the new hive' and 'hell game' had more words (i think) but they were mostly a disconnected series of sex scenes with thin connective tissue between them. this is ~200k words of a single, linear, mostly-plot narrative. i'm writing scenes that aren't just about getting the two leads to fuck!! that's weird. it's definitely the most ambitious thing i've written. kind of weird that it's tmnt fanfic. that's just how it worked out, i guess.

so back in 2022 i watched the rise of the tmnt movie because people kept talking about the animation quality of the fights and that got me into a spiral of actually paying attention to the ninja turtles. i had never been into them & genuinely i think a huge part of getting into tmnt stuff was that rise actually varied the design of the turtles so that they weren't all basically identical save for color-coding. turns out visual design was the missing mystery ingredient.

also in 2022 i was burning out on writing 'goblin cave', when what i had intended to be a fun little writing exercise ended up getting algorithmically surfaced and getting me hundreds of comments on each chapter. that got a little stressful and i wasn't really enjoying that, so i stopped. but i was like, hmm you know i mostly just write weird porn but maybe i should write something a little more ambitious. with a plot, and everything. 'goblin cave' was (in my mind) all about a character who was created for violence deciding art was a much more worthwhile pursuit. but the main character of that doesn't know what art is. because it's a magical dungeon core. and i was still thinking a lot about dead zones of the imagination, by david graeber. so i was like, okay, let's do this again but in a slightly more self-authentic way and make it weird gay porn with weird animal dicks. let's give michelangelo ninjaturtle a monologue about how the powerful are utterly insulated from any consequence.

(also early on, after watching most of rottmnt, i stumbled across this blog post about the tmnt comics and the end of the world. that ended up being deeply influential on the fic too. i've been kinda in a state for the past few years and this fic is absolutely a part of me working through a lot of complicated feelings about the world and the future. lol people talk so much about people writing dark fic 'to cope' but this was pretty much the first time i've outsourced my emotional processing by having bad things happen to fictional characters.)

so uhhh where to start here. the setting of the fic is this complicated messy mashup of a half-dozen tmnt continuities. it's very rise-heavy, since... that was the only series i had watched(/read) when i had determined the major plot points, but there's a lot of bits and pieces from all over.

to roughly outline the characters here, a huge influence on mikey's personality in this is... mikey's 'dr delicate touch' persona in rottmnt. in the sense that... okay yes yes that is a kid's show and all of his dr delicate touch lines are, you know, setups and punchlines. you think he's going to be nice but actually he's mean! etc. but in-universe it's like, wait hold on a second. mikey is like the most emotionally-intelligent of the four. he absolutely knows when people are on the edge of flipping out and need a calming out to a stressful situation. and instead he freaks them out more! mikey's hobby is: being mean to his friends & family, for fun! what a fun character trait.

i was thinking about this tweet a lot, too. i read some writing advice once that people tend to make characters who are supposed to be likable too squeaky-clean. nothing but positive character traits for them! but actually every 'positive' character trait is exactly the same as a 'negative' one; it's just a matter of focus and degree. a character is light-hearted and comedic? they can never take things seriously, even when they really should. a character is willing to do anything to protect the people they love? so they're violent and threatening and scary if they happen to decide you're something that they need to protect against. etc. i was really dedicated in this to bringing out the worst characteristics of everybody's personalities.

mikey was also very deeply inspired by: all the garbage progression fantasy stuff i've been reading. i've complained about this several times on this very blog, but a constant theme in most progression fantasy is 1. the main character will constantly get more and more powerful and 2. the main character will never really have their relationship with the rest of the world changed via that power. it's just stat-ups. they just have higher stats so they're more powerful. mikey is the most powerful person on the planet and it's fucking ruining his life. he knows that there's nobody capable of actually checking his behavior, & he's in this constant state of thinking he's maybe a few bad days away from murdering half the planet and incredibly aware there's not really anything he can do about that aside from constantly worry. he's kind of an anxious mess.

mikey absolutely thinks it's more ethical to murder somebody out of the sheer glee of seeing people crushed before you than murdering somebody for something as tedious as mob orders. you're satisfying a deep, raw desire felt from the heart! that's good!

what he'd like to do, in some sense, is just hang out in his studio and chill with other artists, but he knows the world is not gonna let him do that. things will come up. a lot of his being a creepy bystander thing while people get murdered is b/c he's very much formulated his morality to be like... it is not his responsibility to fix other people's problems. other people will do what they want and that has no bearing on him. is that a pretty cowardly and self-serving morality? sure! but he was kinda designed to rule the world & his flinch away from that pretty much defines him as a character in this. that's kinda the morality he needed to end up on to convince himself not to be a genocide machine.

he's incredibly aware he could basically be a superhero, & all it would take is... giving up on all his hopes and dreams and constantly engage with his abilities. and being a superhero isn't that many steps removed from living up to his full design spec and just taking over the world and ruling as god-emperror. idk how well i hit all those notes in the actual fic, but, that's what i was going for. mikey as the narrator clearly doesn't want to talk or think about it so it's never really directly confronted.

raph is... okay so i guess a fairly common piece of fanon, for rise especially, is to characterise raph as having multiple personalities? whether that's him just having alters or him having full-blown MPD depends on the fic. my fun little nod to that is that he's kind of a disassociative mess. he has kind of failed to reconcile the disparate aspects of his personality and he switches between one of several different facades depending on the situation. also, you know. the trauma.

(i didn't really mean for it to be as such, but there is this theme in the story about names? despite everything else mikey has a crystal-clear self-conception of himself and has one name, which he gave himself. raph, who has kinda failed to build his own personality, has a collection of name other people have given him, none of which he feels actually fits him. donnie has a more fluid self-identity and also has roughly a million aliases and false identities & constantly slips in and out of character when it's convenient. leatherhead still going by the name mikey gave him goes hand-in-hand with that bit where mikey meanly thinks about how maybe leatherhead's entire self-conception is hung up on something mikey said to him once, etc. this is one of those things that i'd go back and make more present if i did go back and clean up the rough draft, b/c as it is it's there, but it doesn't really do a whole lot.)

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this fic was inspired by... i had read a few big aus that were just like, taking the characters and loose bits of setting and going off in completely different directions. some of NeiNing's aus were a definite influence, plus like, this one au where raph is an ex-con mechanic, etc, etc. just like "i am going to play out a completely unrelated drama using turtles as the dolls". maybe most directly influential was Of Knights and Thieves, where donnie & mikey are corporate espionage hacker/thief types and raph & leo are do-gooder vigilantes. the original concept for this was much more heavily focused on the art forgery. in a very early draft the idea was leo would get involved much more actively in trying to track down the creator of the false takenobus. then i was like, "i am going to crash a completely separate story concept about the dark armor into the side of this art-forgery story". the filename for the story is still 'lol grindr hookup art thief'. that is not really where the story went.

oh man, the art stuff. i made some posts about this at the time! that are now several years old. here's one! i did end up getting a traditional woodcut printing of Tokaido 53 stations, no. 11, Hokone. in a lot of ways doing all the art research was more satisfying and fun than writing the extensive downward spiral that was the latter half of the fic. but, hey, that's life too i guess.

also raph in this is... okay, so, i don't mean this in a mean way. i really liked the fics! but cndrow has written several raph/donnie fics where raph is just like... like a repeated theme in them is raph confessing eternal love & talking about how he's like, mentally planning on them being together forever. on the first date. and sure sure everybody has different tastes; i'm absolutely sure that my interest in guys who are mean leads to some stories that are extremely offputting to some people, etc. but it's like, oh man, raph, please slow your roll a little. if somebody said they were planning our future wedding all of ten minutes into talking to me i would flee the room. & the raph in blinded by the summer sun is very much inspired by that. sadly, i never fully committed to that. originally i even had a line in chapter 9 where slash was like 'please tell me you didn't drop the 'i love you forever' on this guy already' to imply that that was, you know, a theme for raph, but i chickened out and cut it. raph as a kind of rolling series of bad relationships characterized by him falling forever in love w/ his latest crush until the relationship detonates and leaves him not really understanding how things went wrong. but i don't think that's expressed well like, at all. but that ideally should characterize a large part of why he keeps chasing after mikey even well after the point where it would be reasonable to disengage. also to convey some of the downsides of a character believing in true love. it's rough out there in the world.

also thank you tumblr user averyterrible for writing this goncharov post. that was the point in the story where i was like, actually i have been writing raph as way too much of a sad boy. if i want to play in the space of crime drama, there needs to be some crime! he's a yakuza assassin. he needs to chop off somebody's fingers with bolt cutters.

--

to me, the central question in the fic isn't really 'will the mikey/raph relationship work out' or 'will mikey succeed in his plans', it's 'why is mikey doing these things'. & i think the leatherhead chunks in chapter 23 finally give enough context to what's going on with mikey to let people answer that? like oh, mikey is a mess.

(lol the initial setup for the early chapters are supposed to give an audience response of like, "oh no, raph has some dangerous secrets" "oh no, raph is a violent yakuza murderer! i hope mikey is going to be okay interacting with raph" "...oh no, i hope raph is going to be okay interacting with mikey")

a lot of the story really is about how... mikey & raph's relationship is in a lot of ways very adolescent? they have not had a lot of prior experience with healthy relationships, and they're trying, but, uhhhhhhh. mikey likes to act like he's so cool and above-it-all and unaffected by things happening, but that's actually just b/c he doesn't really care about most things. when something happens that he genuinely doesn't like he immediately snaps and has a giant meltdown. (we see this once with raph, when mikey has a panic attack and throws up when raph blows him off wrt warning him of bishop, and once with donny about the armor, where mike immediately starts tantruming and threatening to kill himself. mikey is very bad at resolving conflict. he's kind of a brat, actually.)

like every character in this is in some way their worst self. they're all pretty awful people. but they're all also trying to... grapple with their place in the world and try to be better people. to even figure out what 'better' means. this is a story about how 'being a good person' is a constant struggle, not to 'do the right thing', but to even figure out what's 'right'. it's about picking yourself up again after a bad period and going, well, let's keep going. like mikey has a lot of traits but one that i, the author, actually think is fairly admirable is his ability to get back up and keep going after a really bad period. which is funny b/c characterwise that goes hand-in-hand with his callousness. just shrug off all the misery you caused other people, i guess! see above about positive/negative character traits.

(also uh there's another tmnt fic author whose work has a lot of... a Bad Guy is constructed/identified. then helpless children (or teens!) are rescued from him. then the bad guy is ruthlessly & violently murdered. sometimes onscreen, sometimes offscreen. and then it's nothing but chapter after chapter of people being happy and cutesy to each other. and like, i get it. but the, like, recurring theme there of the Bad Guy having done something fundamentally unforgivable that separates from all understanding & mercy, to which the only justice is a violent death, just strikes me as... simplistic. sometimes people do really awful things and part of grappling with that as an adult with an adult moral conceptualization is realizing that you gotta look past your initial reflex to punishment.

or like, mikey's whole childhood in this really fucked him up but a huge part of his identity is him having to form an identity from that. having to make the determination of which parts of him are 'him' and which parts were done to him. lol @ him aggressively and extensively rejecting everything about what draxum made him to do & then blithely being like 'we were engineered to eat humans anyway' as a defense for all the corpse-eating. mikey you just like eating people & have decided that part does align with your self-identity. mikey would really not appreciate anybody being like 'i'm sorry nobody saved you from that' b/c that (to him) would basically be the same as them saying they thought he was fundamentally, irreparably damaged & was going to be forever incapable of being anything other than what draxum made him to be. he wouldn't take it well.)

uhhh what else. i mean there's a lot. fun fact pretty much every time mikey gets mad at somebody else he's hugely projecting. even his pacifism is like... hmm maybe he should have killed draxum. a lot of his talk @ raph about splinter is secretly mikey relitigating his feelings about draxum. oh what's that mikey you think that splinter is only playing happy family b/c he's immortal and he has infinite time to spend humoring somebody's illusions but that when push comes to shove he'll drop all that? gee i wonder if that might apply to any dynamics in mikey's own life. lol at mikey being like "wow red your life is kind of a fucked-up nightmare of weird psychopaths playing like they're happy family" and then two chapters is like "hey come meet my family. we live in my genocidal dad's bombed-out lab and we're treating him like a weird racist grandpa". i kinda wanted something that would complicate mikey just being like "i am a pacifist now and i don't kill anybody"; mikey that's all well and good but like half his inner tension comes from not being sure if he should've left draxum alive. that's kinda the mirror to him debating whether or not actually killing leatherhead would've been better. (in a few years shelldon is gonna go through a period of not wanting to talk to any of them. mikey & donnie are better parents than draxum but that's such a low bar.)

(likewise at the end when mikey is like "this is raph's healthiest relationship so far!" to leo, like, this is more mikey projecting. really the raph/casey relationship was probably better for raph & casey, idk, who can say. but is mikey's relationship with raph the healthiest romantic interaction he's ever had? yes, absolutely. we don't get to see the mikey/leatherhead relationship really up-close and personal but it should be pretty clear that it was pretty awful for everybody involved. compared to that, the mikey/raph is absolutely mikey's healthiest relationship so far. just. low bars.)

lol i am a little concerned that mikey's tendency to monologue, & especially his whole political monologue near the end, will get people to think he's just acting as an author's soapbox. i mean, okay, the little author's note where i'm like "as always, mikey is a perfect role model and everybody should do what he does" was a fun little joke. but, oof, the number of fics i've read where the authors feel the need to loudly and repeatedly disclaim that This Story Contains Things The Author Does Not Condone In Real Life is pretty disheartening. way to have absolutely no faith in your audience. but likie, the part where mikey is pretty much flat-out like, "actually i think my moral framework is whatever is necessary to justify my actions" is meant to be pretty damning. maybe not of mikey specifically as a character, just of, you know. the whole world where that's a pretty common outlook among people with power.

--

lets talk about the rape. part of it is that it felt like it would be inauthentic to go through the entire story without mikey seriously violating one of raph's boundaries. part of it is that mikey here kinda has the trifecta of ASPD, ADHD, & bipolar, and the thing with that is it's very easy to just say that but a little more difficult to convey the personality traits involved. this isn't really something ever stated as such in the fic, aside from various people calling mikey crazy + raph calls him a sociopath once. it's kind of too didactic to just flatly state "and this is what's wrong with mikey!" imo. but. this is a story about violent people. imo you can't just gesture to a character with the background level of callousness for the genre and go "okay this is a clinical sign"; you kinda gotta do something more direct. 'wow mikey sure is CRAZY and WEIRD good thing it only shows itself as him being slightly mean to people'. no. mikey has done some pretty horrible things in the past and clearly isn't fully done with that.

(i did pretty much go straight down the list of symptoms there. impulsive, suicidal, aggressive, violent, risky sex, arrogant, limited empathy, no regard for other people or social norms, difficulty with relationships, arson, etc, etc, etc. but it's not like he's a 'realistic' portrayal here, since... i mean, he is a super-powered ninja. there's a level of 'superficial charm' here but we do get enough of mikey's interiority to be able to tell he's a total mess in a way that's not particularly constructed.)

also it's like. raph graphically tortures several people to death & i didn't really feel the need to disclaim that here. murder is usually seen as a lesser crime in fiction than rape. people love their violent blorbos but the second there's the implication of sexual violence people freak out. the usual line people say is that the threat of murder is a little more removed for most people than the threat of rape, which idk if i fully agree with. but part of it is also to draw a line between raph's violence and mikey's boundary violation. like mikey says, well, raph tried to non-consensually murder him a few times too.

anyway i don't think i really stuck the landing with that either, in part b/c raph's response to it. he's a little too pathetically accepting of things at the end instead of being angry + violent. that could use a rewrite or two.

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honestly i'm kinda sick of this story now? which sucks a little, since i kept realizing things about the story all the way up to the very last moment of editing. if i had waited to post any of this until i was done with the first draft... well, it'd be a very different story if i went back and turned this rough draft into something more complete. i never really did manage to hit the character beats with raph i was hoping to. oh well. like, i still like it. but i can definitely see all of its weak points. i guess that's just part of the process of writing. it'd be worse if you wrote a giant novel and came out on the other side not more aware of your failings as an author.

i feel like raph isn't super well-realized in terms of character motivations. or... his relationships aren't shaded in as well as they could be. if i were redoing this whole thing i'd definitely include some chunks of raph pov just to lay out more concretely what he's doing & what his life is like when he's not in the same scene as mikey. i kinda included that raph+donny conversation at the very end just for jokes, but actually ending every chapter with a little section of non-mikey pov would've helped ground a lot of the characters. raph isn't super well-developed and leo is pretty much incoherent absent external familiarity with his character's deal. they're not conveyed super well, in part because, well, any time mikey is onscreen everybody is having to deal with mikey. it's a problem.

but something that absolutely could have worked as a secondary narrative to the story is the whole thing with raph working w/ the oroku. that was a bit of a late addition to the story. it's meant as a reference to, you know, all the times raphael ends up being compared to/assuming the mantle of the shredder in the comics. but as it is since we don't get any real looks into exactly what's going on in yakuza town when mikey's not around none of that got developed very well, imo.

--

it was very important to me that mikey not learn any lesson here. where things are at in the end are pretty much the exact same as where they were in the beginning. the bit in the pizza scene where he's like 'you guys get to live and i get a boyfriend' is very accurate. literally the only change in mikey's life through this entire thing is that at the end he is in a relationship w/ a guy who he can tell some of what his life is like to. not that it's a super healthy relationship, but it is there.

well, that, and also now he's maybe out of time. (uh, so the laughter at the very end of the epilogue is mikey realizing he's out of time. the whole epilogue really is about how he's got all these conflicting tensions of who-knows-what in his life, & then right in the middle of the tension it's like, whoops, the utrom aren't coming in 10 years or 20 years, they're coming now. and in a week you're gonna be getting some really pointed questions about how you know the utrom envoy. and in a few years, well, there's gonna be some planetary evacuation) like the whole story is about... anxiety. mikey feeling the weight of the future on him in every moment. actually seeing things collapse would be a relief; you'd get the release of all the potentiality collapsing into an actual problem. the moral of the story is you get what you get and in the end all mikey's actions, good or bad or otherwise, have bought him is nine more months of ignoring his problems.

anyway sorry to all the tmnt fans who were expecting a happy cheerful mikey/raph story. this is actually about the fundamental injustice of existence. whoops!