#it’s important to know when to end a story

[ariestrxsh]

🖤 content warning: 🖤 smut, blowjob, voyeurism, blackmail, mean!roughdom!chris

🖤 author's note: 🖤 part two is going to be some of the filthiest, roughest shit i've ever written, so proceed with caution.

🖤 summary: 🖤 your manager, chris, finds out you've been giving away free drinks at your bartending job, and he blackmails you. he won't tell your little secret as long as you can give him what he wants..

this story was requested/inspired by this ask 💖 (promise that i will be serving filth in part two)

Closer part one

You rolled your eyes when you walked into work, saw the schedule, and realized who you were closing with.

You loved everything about being a bartender. You liked serving drinks, flirting with the customers, and listening to music all night. You made decent money, and you even liked your coworkers. Well, most of them.

The one thing you couldn't stand about your job was Chris, your manager, who was insufferable to work with. Anytime the two of you shut down the bar together, he'd waste time either playing around on his phone, sitting in his car smoking weed, or hiding in the backroom doing god knows what. This meant you'd end up doing most of the closing tasks alone.

All Chris really did was count the money and lock the door at the end of the night, and it always pissed you off that he got paid more than you. It's not like he was better-qualified for the position or had a better work ethic than you did, but he'd landed himself a position in management because the owner was his best friend's dad.

"Can't wait to close with you, sweetheart. You always get us out faster than I do with any of the other girls," Chris grinned at you with a tooth pick between his teeth while he leaned up against the stainless steel counter in a black tanktop and jeans.

"Wow, that's crazy, because we'd get out even faster if you could go one shift without getting high in the parking lot, and instead helped me rinse out all the beer taps," you snarked back.

"You know, I have way more important shit to worry about than wiping down surfaces. That's why I have you," Chris remarked, flashing you a smirk and brushing the back of his hand across your cheek. You pulled away and scoffed at him. "Love when you play hard to get," Chris whispered before wandering off towards the back. You rolled your eyes.

It was Friday night, which meant it'd be busy, and you were hoping to pull in enough tips to make rent by the end of the shift. You were getting into a flow, mixing drinks, and engaging in witty banter with some out-of-towners when your eye caught Chris heading out to the parking lot. There was a pretty blonde girl with him.

You finished serving the drink in your hand and turned to your coworker, Sam. "Hey, cover me while I go have a cigarette?" You leaned in and asked. She gave you the thumbs up. You went to the back, shuffling around in your purse for your American spirits.

You weren't gonna spy on Chris. You were just curious to see where he was going, who he was with, and what they were doing. Okay, fine. You were spying on Chris.

You made your way outside, sparking up the end of your cigarette, and heading towards the back of the building where the smoking area was. You didn't see Chris or the girl anywhere at first until your eyes landed on Chris' car. Chris was in the driver's seat, and it looked like he was alone.

That was until you saw that Chris had a fistful of her blonde hair in his grip, bouncing her up and down on his lap. You studied Chris' expression, the way it was steeped in desire, the way his jaw hung slightly open, and the way he was peering down. He was definitely getting head in his car.

The girl's head bobbed up down, disappearing and reappearing behind the dashboard. You knew you shouldn't be watching, and you always thought you'd be grossed out if you ever caught Chris doing anything like that, but you couldn't take your eyes off him.

You sat there, taking drag after drag off your cigarette while you watched Chris enjoying himself in his car. In your deepest, darkest fantasies, you wondered what he sounded like behind the glass windows.

A wetness started to pool between your legs, and it's not that you were jealous that you weren't the one doing it, but.. fuck, were you a little jealous? You watched in awe until you'd smoked your cig all the way down to the filter.

You knew it would be hard to hate Chris and be annoyed with his closing process when your mind was overwhelmed with daydreams about sucking him off. You threw your cigarette on the ground and smushed it into the asphalt with your sneaker.

Thankfully, the night stayed busy, and you were able to keep your mind off the incident momentarily when an older gentleman who immediately caught your eye walked in through the door and sat at the end of the bar. You noted how handsome he was with his salt and pepper hair, his nice suit, and his intense stare. He looked like he could be in his forties, but you didn't mind. You liked older men.

"Whatcha drinking?" You smiled, approaching him. "A double of your finest scotch. Neat," he replied, looking deep into your soul. What a refined drinking order. He paid for his scotch right away, probably not planning on staying very long, but the two of you hit it off.

For next hour or so, he nursed his drink while you got to know a little bit about each other. You learned that he was a professor who taught philosophy, and he learned that you were a avid lover of philosophy. The subject had meandered towards absurdist theory and Albert Camus' works.

"You know, I remain unconvinced that life or anything at all really, has any meaning," you leaned onto the bar, looking into his dark, sultry eyes, "if there is no inherent meaning, then that takes all the pressure off." You grabbed his empty glass off the counter between the two of you, and you gestured to see if he wanted another.

"Please," he accepted, "don't you think it's a little sad if you don't give life some kind of meaning?" He squinted at you, trying to pick your brain.

"No, not at all, because we humans subconsciously give meaning to nearly everything that happens in our everyday lives, and it actually distorts our view of objective reality and keeps us assuming and imprisoned to a slew of reactions based off of a bunch of self-drawn conclusions," you replied, "plus if I were sad about life not having any meaning, I'd be a nihilist, not an absurdist." You topped off his glass and slid it over to him with a smug look on your face.

"Hmm. Smart girl," he responded, picking up his glass and taking a few sips. You liked that you'd found a man who could actually hold an intellectual conversation with you, and you boldly requested his number. He wrote it down on a napkin and slid it over to you.

"Does this mean I'm gonna see you again?" He stared at you longingly. "It can mean whatever you want it to mean," you smirked at him.

When he finished his drink, he pulled out his wallet to pay, but you stopped him. "Last one's on the house. Thanks for the mentally stimulating discussion. I don't get much of that around here," you insisted.

"Maybe that's because you're talking to boys instead of men," he suggestively raised an eyebrow at you and left you a generous tip before leaving the bar.

Shit. You hadn't even caught his name.

The rest of the night went well. It was fast-paced, everyone was in a good mood, and the tips were flowing in. Last call rolled around, and you started to clean up your station. "Who was that pretentious douchebag you were talking to?" Chris came up behind you, rasping directly into your ear and startling you, causing you to drop a shotglass.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think he sounded a little jealous.

"Shit!" You exclaimed, bending down to clean up the broken glass. Chris' eyes were drawn to your perfectly-shaped ass that your jeans hugged so well. "He teaches philosophy at the University. But I didn't catch his name," you replied.

"But you got his number," Chris snatched the folded napkin hanging out of your back pocket. "Give me that back!" You exclaimed, reaching for it as Chris held it above his head.

"I'll give it back to you, but first. You and I need to talk," Chris' tone got a little more serious. "About what?" You asked, picking up on the sudden shift in his voice. "You know, Professor Pretentious was drinking Macallan Scotch Whiskey, don't you?" Chris inquired as if that was supposed to mean something to you. "And?" You asked, shrugging at Chris.

"Do you have any idea how expensive that shit is and how dead you would be if Boss Man knew you were giving it out for free to old men you wanted to bone?" Chris leaned in close and gave you a disappointed look. "Well, we won't know, because he won't find out about it, will he, Chris?" You shot him a look.

"Well, the cameras show you handing him two drinks, but his bill only has one listed," Chris responded, indicating he had evidence. "Chris, come on. You wouldn't do that," you sneered at him. "Sure, I would. Unless you give me something I want. Then I won't tell boss man, and I'll give you professor dickhead's number back," Chris smirked at you deviously.

"What do you want?" You rolled your eyes, not really having a choice but to hear him out. "I'll think about it. In the meantime, I'm gonna go do inventory and count the safe, and you're gonna clean this shit up. Fucking loser," Chris said, motioning towards the broken glass on the ground and rolling his eyes. Then he left out the front door, presumably to go smoke weed in his car.

The clock hit 2:00 a.m. It was the end of the night, and no thanks to Chris, all your closing duties were done even earlier than you'd expected. The two of you were the only staff still there, and you were ready to hear whatever sick ultimatum Chris was about to give to you.

You trudged into the office where he was sitting on his phone with his feet kicked up on the desk. "All done, princess?" Chris asked, lustfully glancing you up and down. "Ew, don't call me that," you responded. "Why? You like it too much?" He chuckled at you.

"What's it gonna take for you to keep your mouth shut and give me back my future husband's phone number?" You crossed your arms, avoiding addressing his accusation. Chris fixed his contemplative eyes on you and gave you a bit of a malicious grin, "All you have to do is let me fuck you."

You were immediately taken aback, thinking you didn't hear him right. "What!?" You swallowed hard and narrowed your gaze at him. He stood up and got into your face, making you feel small and weak. "What? You liked watching me get head in the parking lot, and now you're getting all shy on me?" Chris cooed, stroking your cheek with his knuckles.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, and you found yourself unable to say anything. You were completely humiliated by the fact that he'd seen you peeping on him.

"Don't worry, princess. I won't tell anyone you like to watch. But I will tell Boss Man about the scotch if you don't let me do whatever I want to you," he said in a low, sexy voice, his carnal needs carved into the expression on his face.

"It kind of feels like you're not giving me a choice here," you studied his hypnotic blue and eyes and your gaze fell to his full lips.

"Well, then here are your choices. Let me spell them out for you. First scenario, I tell the boss, you get fired, you go work at a new bar, and you never have to see me again. Second scenario, you get on your fucking knees and you let me use that little back-talking mouth of yours and whatever other way I want to have you, and I'll make this whole problem of yours disappear," he winked at you and leaned in, chuckling into your ear,

"And if you choose the last option, I'm just letting you know in advance, I like it disgustingly rough."

part two coming soon 💖

taglist: @bsturnzmtt @sturniolo-girl @munchingmini @butterbean-01 @coolasice01 @theyluvme-2315 @zariyam @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @miss-delicious @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @mattsfavbigtitties @new2024cats4life @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweetheart33 @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @sturnrc @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @aalirosesblog @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @karttpet @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @slxtformatt @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mynameisuser834 @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx

[barbwritesstuff]

I went to a couple of writing workshops on the weekend and one of the authors speaking had some very prescriptive things to say about writing.

Things such as:

"If you don't use the hero's journey structure your writing is ugly."

"There can only be one protagonist. If someone tells me they have multiple protagonists in their story, they fundamentally don't understand the craft of writing."

"Readers have to empathise with the main character. Being relatable is the most important trait for a main character to have."

"Action comes before dialogue."

"Our bodies mimic the breathing patterns in punctuation."

"Stories have to have a satisfying ending, or they're not good stories. Unsatisfying endings are a modern invention which has harmed book sales."

And. Look. I know I'm not a big, famous flash-bang author or anything.

But some of these things are just outright false. I also really feel like this sort of attitude is (at best) snobby, and (at worse) shitty.

It's also not a very new attitude. Since the dawn of humanity, humans have been saying things like: "Stories are only good if XYZ."

And so, I just wanted to get online and say one thing:

"Aviate. Navigate. Communicate."

Those are the actions pilots are meant to do in an emergency. It's very important that they do them, in that order, because if they don't, there is a higher probability of disaster.

Like... crashing to the ground in a flaming ball of death level of disaster.

Writers (and I cannot stress this enough) are not pilots.

If we break rules, no one dies.

Sometimes, when we break rules, wonderful things happen.

So—while I think it's hugely useful to learn about story structure, craft, etc—coming at an art with absolute rules like this, is silly.

We're not pilots. Lives are not on the line. We can (and should) be creative and have fun. And if it doesn't work out? Oh well. That's fine. That's how we learn and grow as writers.

Also, what works for one writer may not work for another, and that's fine. Commerical success isn't everything... and there are actually plenty of very commercially successful books and stories that break these 'absolute' rules this author talked about.

So...

Yeah.

That's my lukewarm take.

Write and have fun. Don't worry about this sort of snobby silliness.

P.S I did actually enjoy the workshop and I think overall this author had good takes. I think there were just some very silly takes sprinkled in and I've been ruminating on them for a couple of days.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

So.... Stock image

https://www.vecteezy.com/vector-art/11430941-halloween-black-silhouette-repeating-border

[Referencing this post!]

Yuuup, that’s pretty much the same thing as what we see in the PV… 😅 Same shapes, same pattern order, everything.

Upon further research, it seems this isn’t even the first instance of this stock asset being used by Disney. It was also used for a limited edition Sally-inspired perfume called Rag Doll. I believe it was sold at Hot Topic back in 2013:

It’s a little saddening seeing TWST use stock images instead of like… you know, new assets 💦 This is following a somewhat disappointing trend of TWST animated PVs going down in quality and budget, especially over the years. For example, for the anniversaries:

2021 - 2 minutes long; all students included in highly individualized limited event outfits and movement is dynamic.

2022 - 1 minute long; all students and even staff are included but in standard uniforms, noticeable drop in art and animation quality (for example, look at Kalim and Silver in the flight scene). Animation itself is framed like Yuu is taking pictures of everyone—but really, it’s a convenient excuse to hold on static shots of the photos instead of actually animating them.

2023 - 1 minute and ~40 seconds; only the third years in their school uniforms and Grim in ceremonial robes are featured. Animation appears slow and somewhat clunky. And dear god, that weird panning shot of Malleus and Lilia; that Lilia is practically traced from his live 2D model.

2024 - 1 minute and ~10 seconds; basically a glorified slideshow with fancy effects. Only the dorm leaders in their school uniforms are shown.

Then, looking at the Halloweens:

Terror is Trending - 30 seconds; All students included and dorm costumes showcased. Unique shots and framing. Even Ramshackle Ghosts (who are important in the event story) are shown.

Endless Halloween Night - 4 different versions of the same commercial (including different characters doing the voiceover work), each ~30 seconds each; all students featured. Nice lighting, fierce expressions, varied framing.

Glorious Masquerade - 1 minute and 30 seconds. Several static panning shots, but at least the colors are striking when most other things are monochrome or muted. ~20 seconds at the end dedicated to hyping up Rollo.

Stage in Playful Land - ~35 seconds. Only the 3 SSR boys are featured, with most of the animation being in their head tilts. Less than 10 seconds is dedicated to hyping up Fellow and Gidel.

This year’s event… 20 seconds using a stock image and panning up from it to the TWST logo, no new assets.

I DON’T KNOW, maybe I’m overthinking it 😭 I’m definitely not the first person to notice this though… It’s been a point of discussion in my fandom social circles.

But hey, let’s keep our heads high! It’s very possible that we’ll get a more formal animated PV in the weeks leading up to Halloween. In fact, I’m certain of it since this current PV doesn’t show new costumes or the new twisted character, as is tradition. What we see now might just be a bonus material they’re releasing to really get us excited. Plus, we’ll probably also have an ABEMA stream with more Halloween-related news ^^ Let’s look forward to that!

[meredithgran]

About Newspaper Comics

An ask cross-posted from Cohost, which is not long for this world.

Anonymous User asked: I would like to know your opinions about newspaper comics

This is a very choose your own adventure kind of question. Am I meant to speak about the art or the business of newspaper strips? The current state of newspaper comics or their century-spanning history? Stream of consciousness it is.

Newspaper comics were the original dream for me before all other dreams. I fell in love with Garfield and the story of its success, and wanted to make a syndicated strip at an early age. Later, I fell in love with Calvin and Hobbes - itself a lesson in craft, history and business - and abandoned the syndication dream for “art by any means necessary”, and dove into webcomics. (There were a few more steps along the way, but that’s the basic trajectory and not uncommon for my age.)

In the 80s and 90s when I was dreaming Garfield dreams, syndicated newspaper strips were already dying. They’d been jam packed so tightly into rectangles in the comics section that no room for great cartooning remained. The schedules were brutal, the audience was broad and apt to complain, and the aging comics legends were phoning in or delegating their work, so even the full-page Sunday strips were gridded and lifeless. Even fresh new artists (rare as they were) were hammered creatively into the shape of the paper. The death of most major newspapers from the late 00s onward spelled the end of Garfield Meredith's dream.

The thing is, Garfield Meredith would be very pleased with the present day. Comics are bountiful, they're free to read online, and they're all accessible from a single app. Even better, the creators interact with their audiences day and night. In comics we have safely returned to the late-stage newspaper syndication model, after a brief "art by any means" era, with 24/7 access to the creators as a bonus. It goes without saying that most of the money these comics generate goes to the platform. As more people discover online comics, the memory of any other model has faded. Comics is a pushover industry, easily steamrolled by detached parties with money.

So what do we do? I'm afraid that's not what this post is about. Mom's tired. My heads is not really in the comics game anymore, and big tech & our rotting internet is a problem everywhere. But I think discussions about our history as cartoonists and comics appreciators - and an acknowledgment of what is disappearing - is important. It's no surprise that Bill Watterson's stubborn refusal to license, adapt, or needlessly continue his creation past its prime shocked me and many others onto a different path. I think it is useful to be a high-functioning crank in your own age: to fully accept the now without forgetting past possibilities or drawing a border around the future.

And of course, we mustn't let current trends tame our wild imaginations or our command of the craft. We have been given the tools to create beauty and make sense of life, and these creations - not the platforms that indiscriminately corral them - are worth sharing.

[gahellhimself-blog]

⚠️important informations⚠️

Hey everyone,

I would like to have a moment to talk about the comic Teach Me with you all.

For some time now, and especially since we reached the end of Chapter 2, I have had a few remarks regarding Mr Fell. I understand the criticism that has been written, and that is why I would like to give a few explanations.

I have been working on this comic since around January, first alone, then with my amazing team (<3).

This story evolved a lot since the beginning; as a remind, or information for anybody who joined this adventure recently, this comic shouldn't have grown to be this size, shouldn't even exist to begin with. It did end up taking a spot in my life and mind that I had not planned for at all.

First of all, because it targets themes that I hold very dear; first one being that of transidentity, especially transmasculinity.

Then, because the characters themselves have evolved with the story as it came to be built as time went by.

I make it my personal mission to ensure that this story makes sense, without it going too far either. This means that I am trying, as much as I can, to keep from targetting scenarios deemed "problematic", which as you all might imagine isn't the easiest to do when the story's backbone is the relationship between a professor and a student.

This means a lot of work, but it is extremely satisfying, as it makes everything more interesting and deeper in its narrative meaning.

I was told several times that "my" Aziraphale is very different from the canon Aziraphale: yes, that is after all an Alternative Universe. The canon character is only the base on which we have built the character of Pr. A. Fell.

I can also understand that it would be troubling; however, all you have seen of the characters until now exists for a reason. I am the first to be sorry that I cannot say more at the moment, but I will have to ask you to trust me: if I am not saying anything more, it is all for the benefit of the story itself, as they will surely take another meaning and dimension once you have every piece of information available to you that will allow you to re-read it under a very different light.

Finally, I would like to clarify one important element:

I staunchly refuse to have relationships between adults and minors or grooming in my stories. As much as I can, I avoid age gaps that would be too jarring, and when I do, it will be for the benefit of the story's coherence; same thing applies to power dynamics and imbalances.

Please do not forget that English isn't my native language: I do not have all the codes of language (I think of the hashtags for example), as they can be very different from the French ones. Therefore, I ask that if you see something that looks jarring in my descriptions or answers, you tell me about it. In order to get better at communicating what I mean, I need to know what I have to correct.

Thank you all, both for your incredible support and your criticism, which allow me to grow better.

Gael

Thanks to @kotias for the translation.

See ya in November (at least) for the chapter 3.

[opal-owl-flight]

Heat of the moment.

Well….a first kiss is one way to end the Grandfest.

*Takes place after the results were announced, but before this comic, and after this piece!

Follow-up dialogue below!

*The situation is that 3 had woken up before everyone else, as is usual. Went to check on their team. 8 woke next, and checked in with OtH. Theyre her close friends after all! 4 woke last. She woke right as the splatfest winner was announced. And she saw 3 being carried by their team, tossed up and down.

Back to the dialogue after the comic:

"T-TANARA????"

3 scrambles back, signing apologies over and over. "|It was heat of the moment- Im sorry! Im sorry! Im sorry!!!"|"

4s glowing. "I-its fine! Its nothing, really. I get it! Calamari Inkantation does things to you!"

"|Its nothing...yeah. Nothing.|"

"AAANYWAY," John yells, breaking the silence, "ITS TIME WE CELEBRATED A WIN JUST LIKE OLD TIMES! COME ON, TEAM! AY! AY! AY! AY!"

hes crowing that victory theme, and the team scramble to pick 3 up again, running them off to the nearest tacticooler soda tub to dunk them into it. Old, veteran tradition.

4 stands there, stunned. Why-

Why did they kiss her? Did....did they actually like her back, or...

Was it really just the heat of the moment?

Oh cod, what is 8 going to think? She KNOWS that she likes them. She TOLD her she likes them!! And yet-

And yet she STILL fell for them, she STILL allowed 3 to do what they did-

She'll...try to forget it.

(But as the night passes later, she realized she cant let it go. Oh man, she has to talk to them about this...)

She knew 8 was elsewhere. She grabs one of those pamphlets they give out when the results are announced and goes to find her.

Shes gonna bury that event for now. Its nothing. Its nothing. Its...

Its important that she find her first. Yeah.

---------

GOD THESE SQUIDS ARE SO GAY LMAO

*the way 3 runs to greet 4, and then 4 picking them up and spinning them around, is something they do after 4 comes back from patrol -- both post Hero2 and after they made up post Hero3. Its their special little greeting :]

**All the ship art takes place AFTER this! I never quite figured out when it all started, it was always "vaguely in the future." With the end of story updates though, I think its safe to finally pin down where I can let the ship(s) sail!

[bullet-prooflove]

Something Important: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Comes After:

The Farm - Carmen recalls the first day you met.

Good People - Richie and Carmy discuss a potential relationship with you.

Pears - It starts when Carmy makes an order he doesn't remember.

Prequel to:

Mornings - Carmy sleeps better with you around.

Bubble - You have no idea that you saved Carmy's life.

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW) - Carmy tells you he lvoes you for the first time.

Doing Something - Carmy owns up to something he's been doing without telling you.

Carmen spends the entirety of Christmas Day in a state of euphoria because he’s in your apartment, in your bed, fucking you. He doesn’t know how it happened, only that it started with a kiss back in the Beef over some seasonal fruit and now you’re curled up in his arms, your head tucked under his chin as his fingertips doodle patterns across your bare skin.

This can’t be my life, he thinks because this shit, it’s just too good to be true.

But it is his life and it gets better because you don’t kick him out when you wake up, instead you take a shower together and your hands on his body, it’s the most sensual fucking experience of his life.

It ends up with the two of you back in bed, his damp curls falling over his features as he kisses every inch of you. He was shy the first time, he didn’t get to experience you the way he wanted, he was too caught up in the vulnerability of the moment, the act of exposing himself to you.

Now he’s bolder with his exploration of you, more focused, more detail oriented.  He spends the next couple of hours mapping you out with his hands and mouth, discovering what makes your breathing hitch, what makes you moan, what makes your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you say his name.

He leaves you sleeping in the aftermath, his lips brushing over your forehead before he searches your kitchen for food. You don’t have much but he manages to cobble together a meal out of what you do have stowed away in your fridge and the back of your cupboards.

“I hope you didn’t mind.” He says when he looks up and sees you lingering in the doorway, wearing nothing but a t-shirt advertising the farm and black panties. “I know it’s Christmas and I didn’t have a gift so…”

He gestures at the food he’s prepared and the smile you give him, it’s everything.

“You are the gift Carmy.” You say, your lips brushing over his cheek and in that moment he realises that you actually believe that, that you believe that he’s something to be treasured, to be cherished.

He makes love to you on the couch after that, your thighs hitched high on his hips so you take him deeper because Carmy, he’s starting to get a little territorial now, he wants to claim you as his own, to be the man that you come home to, the only one you fuck.

“What would you be doing?” He asks you in the aftermath as he lies underneath you, his fingers stroking lightly through your hair. “If I wasn’t here? How would you be spending Christmas?”

“Sleeping.” You tell him, your fingertips tracing over the tattoo on his chest. “I know it’s pathetic…”

“No.” He shushes you, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze. “Trust me I get it, I would rather have slept through every single Christmas I had with my family than endure that nightmare.”

He means it you can tell. You’re kindred spirits, the two of you, both fucked up in your own kind of way. Two ruined puzzle pieces that just seem to fit together.

“Carmen.” You say quietly as you meet his gaze. “What am I to you?”

“Something important.” He says softly as he tucks a stand of hair back behind your ear. “Something I don’t have words for just yet.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[bellarkeselection]

His Compass of Harrenhal part 4

Part 3

- do y'all want one more part to this mini series???

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie @uniquecroissant @vavafaure1994

Daemon and I silently stood there just staring at the old caretaker of the crumbling castle.  The weight of the words that had just come from his mouth was very clear in the forefront of our minds.  I knew that this day would come, but I never imagined that it would be as sudden as this.  This visitor was not simply us meeting a friend for a chat. No, this was the Dragon Queen Rhaeynra Targareyon.

She is a fierce dragon and I am simply a fish out of water.  She could kill me probably without even blinking and walk away if she wished to.

She is also Daemon's former wife or maybe in her eyes they are still together.  There's no possible way that she knows about me.

"Daemon, what do you think she's going to do to me?" I mumbled lifting my head up slightly with a very nervous expression crossing my features.

He squeezed his fingers into my hips where his hands were resting on my body. "I don't know.  But you shouldn't worry your head about it."

"But she's your wife."

His bright purple eyes meet my gaze. "Y/n, don't worry about it because I will make sure she doesn't touch you or the baby in any capacity."

"Daemon! She's your wife. She needs you to get the support of the lords of the realm. I don't help give her any assistance-"

He covered my mouth with his right hand closing most of the gap that was still between us.  His voice went deeper yet remained in the gentle side that he only showed around me.  "Listen to me, little fish.  You are important to me.  I wouldn't have the support of the Riverlands if it wasn't for you.  So I never want to hear you say she doesn't owe you anything when she does owe you some grattitude."

"I'm still afraid, Daemon." I whispered to him under my breath.  The dragon prince nodded his head wrapping his strong arms gently around my waist, bringing me in closer.

Simon, who was standing in the doorway spoke up once before announcing his presence.  "My king, my lady, we should address the princess before she wastes anymore time."

"You should go.  I'll stay back-"

"You won't dare do any such thought.  We're in this together you and I.  I want you by my side."

"I wasn't expecting you."

Rhaenyra eyed her husband then the crowd of men behind him. "Seems rather a lapse in foresight.  I see you have done well here."

"They are sworn to me and not a moment too soon." Daemon admitted to her proudly, knowing she needed this army to have any chance of getting the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra lifted her head up slightly to send him a deep glare asking the question.  "And to whom are you sworn?"

"The world is not what we thought it was.  This war is just the beginning.  Winter is Coming with darkness and doom.  ( Se vys iksos daor skoros īlon thought ziry istan. Bisa vīlībāzma iksos sepār se beginning. Sōnar māzis rūsīr darkness se vējes.)"

Rhaenyra made a confused expression.  "You sound like my father. ( Ao sound raqagon issa kepa.)"

"I saw that we cannot withstand it..and yet, somehow we must. ( Nyke ūndan bona īlon daor withstand ziry. Se yet, somehow īlon līs.)" Daemon clicks his tongue glancing over his shoulder at me for a brief second before looking back at her.  He lowered himself down onto one knee catching her by slight surprise. "The realm's only hope is a leader who can unite it.  And my brother chose you.  You are the true Queen.  Rhaenyra, the first of her name, Protector of the Realm.  I am meant to serve you and all of these with me until death or the end of our story."

Slowly every single lord around me bent down on one knee to address her properly as their Queen.  I placed one hand on my swollen stomach and did the best I could to be down on one knee like the others. Squinting my eyes I was still trying to understand what they were saying in High Valyrian, I was still learning the language from Daemon. "Leave me again at your peril. ( Henujagon issa arlī rȳ aōha peril.)"

"I could not. I tried. ( Nyke could daor. Nyke sylutan.)" Daemon rose from the stone ground addressing her before her dragon made a noise.  "My Queen."

"For every one of us who falls a hundred of them.  There will be no mercy." Daemon put his back to the two of us, drawing his sword out and declaring to the massive crowd of men.  "We fight for our Queen!"

The crowd drew their swords and cheered alongside him till Rhaenyra noticed me standing at the front of the crowd with my hands resting on my stomach and I was only really looking at her husband.  "Daemon, who in the realm is the pregnant woman standing before me?"

"You're grace..." I nervously bowed my head down to address the dragon queen before me.

The queen slowly walked forward scanning her eyes down my body and held her eyes solely on my pregnant belly.  "What is your name, my lady?"

"Y/n Tully, your grace." I simply responded to her.

She questioned back softly.  "Who is the father of the babe in your belly, Lady Tully?"

"Um.  I must admit I am not comfortable sharing that information, your grace." I lowered my gaze from hers and accidentally took a few steps away from her showing I was afraid of her next response.

Rhaenyra bites her lip in a tight line.  "Daemon, I demand to know what else you have been doing here while working to secure me an army of Riverlands men and I demand to know now!" 

"Rhaenyra, she's my - the baby growing in her womb belongs to me." Daemon placed his sword back inside its holder coming over to the two of us.

The dragon queen clicked her tongue.  "There's more you're leaving out.  Tell me now."

"She's my wife." Daemon finally mutters under his breath.  This caused everyone else in the crowd to gasp and take large steps backwards in utter shock.

Rhaenyra whipped her head around glaring at me and I shut my eyes thinking she would lay a hand on me.  Yet when I heard a harsh smack where I peaked one eye opened seeing Daemon holding his cheek with one hand.  "You promised me you'd be loyal to me.  You led me on when I was a child and I believed you and yet you still do this.  You betray my trust by marrying and bedding another woman!"

"I now see what my brother saw in you when he named you heir.  I see that you will be the realm's protector even if you no longer are the object of my desire." Daemon made his way past his former wife stopping directly in front of me.  He cupped my face in his hands resting his forehead against his.  "I've never thought that a woman would change me, make me truly care about her safety, want to bear her children and not simply to further my house.  She brings out the best version of me."

"And where does your loyalty stand, Y/n Tully?" The black Queen questioned me after we had broken away and I was standing beside my dragon husband.

"My loyalty will be to your cause, my Queen." I gave her the best curtsy I could, sending her a weak smile.

Rhaenyra glared at me and her former husband but bravery pushed her jealousy aside knowing we had bigger problems if she wished to take her throne back from her half brothers.  "Our focus needs to be on getting my throne back from the Greens.  But don't think for a moment that this conversation is over between the three of us." She spun on her heels being escorted into a separate room by Simon leaving me, Daemon and the lords behind us all thrown for a loop by how she ended the conversation.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Why Writing Is So Lonely | Rin T.

Hello writers, and anyone else who uses Tumblr on a daily basis like me. (Although I’ve been inactive off and on.) It’s me, Rin, and I wanted to talk about something that I think a lot of us struggle with. Or at least anyone, and everyone who considers themselves writers.

The loneliness that can come with the writing life and being a writer. We spend so much of our time alone. It doesn’t matter if you're using your laptop or scribbling in notebooks. Or pacing around in your living room and muttering dialogue to yourself (which I'm completely guilty of.)

Writing is really a solitary passion, and it hasn't just recently been like that. I'm sure Jane Austen and Edgar Allen Poe dealt with similar feelings. And sometimes that isolation can take a real toll that many of us choose to ignore, both on our creativity, our passion, which I assume is writing in this case, and our mental health.

I’ve been writing for about 4 years now, mostly working on my own little passion projects that I plan on publishing and side hustles, not only for my writing project but also my blog (TheWrite AdviceForWriters). I’m currently knee-deep in 4 different novel drafts that I’m absolutely in love with. However, let me tell you. It can get Very lonely a lot of times. There are days when I feel like I’m the only person in the world who cares about these made-up characters and their fictional problems. The characters I create in my mind are so vivid that they seem like the only individuals who actually care about my passion. (They technically are, considering they are basically my passion.)

It’s so easy to start wondering whether anyone will ever want to read the stories I'm pouring my heart into. The self-doubt I get has been a big part of my writing journey, and sometimes it breaks my heart knowing that I may not please everyone who reads my stories. That I possibly could get the worst reviews out there on my book. If it's not perfect for society. For example, I have been reading and receiving news on Alex Aster and the amount of bad reviews she received for her LightLark novel, and she has had a few times where she’s stated she poured her heart into it. And it's not just Aster who deals with these as a published author; there are many others, and it sometimes scares me.

But you know what? I've come to realize that this loneliness is just part of the writer’s journey. And that it truly is going to be the process of every writer’s journey and career. It’s going to be one of the prominent challenges we have to face if we want to do this crazy, wonderful, painful thing we call writing. And I think it's important we talk about it, especially since I'm a blogger who owns a blog specifically for writers. The biggest reason I chose to create this blog was for this reason and the many other challenges of being a writer. 

I definitely will consider this blog post to be a discussion, and if anyone wants to reblog or reply to this blog post and start a conversation, please do so, just so we can support each other and figure out healthy ways to cope.

So, why is writing such a lonely pursit? Well, there are quite a few reasons, especially reasons for each individual writer; however, here are a few key reasons:

The Act Itself is Solitary.

At the end of the day, writing is something we have to do on our own. Sure, we can brainstorm with other writers and friends who write or get feedback from beta readers. Or even develop  and edit your manuscript with a professional book editor. But the actual act of putting words on the page is a solo endeavor. We’re the ones doing the typing, the (physical) writing, and the constant racking of our brains to find the perfect word or phrase to put down on paper or the blank page on a screen.

Even when we’re writing collaboratively, there’s still a certain level of isolation involved. I mean, after all, our individual writing process and creative visions have to align for the collaboration to work.

And let’s be real—aligning those things isn't always easy.

I’ve reached out to book editors, more so of developmental editors, which is an editor who guides the writer/author on the actual plot and outline of the novel itself. And they have mentioned the difficulties of needing to align with the creativity of the topic or novel. It isn't easy at all.

I know that for me, my most productive writing sessions happen when I'm alone. And I know for a fact I'm not alone on that.

Having no distractions when it's just me, my thoughts, and the blinking cursor on the screen with a Spotify playlist playing in the background. And while that can be deeply fulfilling and very productive, I will admit it can be incredibly lonely.

It's an Emotionally Draining Process.

Writing isn't just about stringing words together. It's about pouring our hearts and souls onto the page. Were digging into our deepest emotions, our biggest fear, our wildest dreams, our thoughts, our philosophy, I can go on. And that kind of vulnerability can be utterly exhausting.

When I'm in the process of drafting a new novel or the many current projects I'm working on. I often find myself emotionally drained at the end of the day. I've been living and breathing these characters, feeling their joys and pains as my own. describing the actions, words, and emotions these characters do and feel. And then after that, I have to close my laptop, put my pen and notebook away, and try to reenter the “real world"—a world that doesn’t always understand the weight I've been carrying. 

It can be so isolating, feeling like the only person who understands the emotional journey of your writing. Knowing what it feels like to create characters and their stories and emotions and personalities just as if they were real humans. Our non-writer friends and family members try their best to be supportive, but unless they experience it firsthand, they cannot fully grasp the depth of what we go through. I can tell when I explain my projects to others who aren't writers, it can sometimes feel like they don't care about what I'm saying to them. Or it can also feel like, my stories are just a synopsis for an underrated movie no one’s ever watched.

It's a Profession of Rejection

I think we all know, writing is a tough gig. It's a tough career and job. Even the most successful authors have had to face their fair share of rejection. The rejections can be received from agents, publishers, readers, or critics. (like I mentioned earlier), and that constant stream of “no’s” can really chip away at our confidence and sense of self-worth. And especially if you're an aspiring author and have not yet published your work. Knowing that rejection is a big part of the career of writing is frightening. Really.

I remember when one of my best friends, who is a writer, who is currently in the process of publishing her book, would send query after query only to receive endless rejections. She told me it felt like the entire world was telling her, “Your writing isn't good enough,” and that can be a pretty lonely and demoralizing place to be. It has made me anxious about getting to the querying phase, as I still haven't begun to query yet.

Even when we start to find some success, the fear of rejection never really goes away. Will readers love our next book as much as the last one? Will readers even like my debut novel? Will the critics tear it apart? I know when I first started writing my first novel project. I rewrote the first chapter. 13 times!! And that’s because of all the questions and doubts I had in mind. It’s enough to make any writer want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

And the thing is, as writers, we often don't have the same support system that people in other professions might have. We don't have coworkers to commiserate with or a boss to reassure us; it’s just us. Our doubts and the eerie silence of an empty inbox. For example, Ana Neu, one of my all-time favorite Author-Tuber's, has dealt with similar struggles. She’s mentioned several times how lonely she feels and how her family doesn't fully understand her love and passion for writing. And I completely agree with her. If you want to listen to more of her, please listen to her podcast and watch her videos on YouTube here.

So, now that I went over the key reasons as to why writing is so lonely, I didn't want to end this post on negativity, that’s why I wanted to list the main strategies that have helped me:

Build a Writer’s Community

One of the best ways to combat the isolation of writing is to surround yourself with other writers. That’s why I found social media to be a gift, not just for the other obvious reasons, but because we get to find writers around the world who enjoy the same things we like. Having that sense of community can be a game changer.

When I first started my Tumblr blog, TheWriteAdviceForwers, I was really hoping to create that kind of supportive space for writers. I wanted to create a space where anyone who enjoys writing—not just fiction writers, but anyone who finds writing to be a passion of theirs—can share their dreams and struggles with. It's been amazing to connect with so many incredible people who just “get” the unique challenges we face. Being able to share our achievements and share our compassions. It's been vital for my own mental health as a writer, and I hope that it can also be vital for all of you.

And of course, the community is not about venting or seeking validation from others; its about providing feedback, encouragement, and just being able to make friends. Having that makes the lonely parts of the writing process and journey feel a little less lonely.

Prioritize Self-care

It's so easy to get caught up in the work and neglect our well-being. There have been multiple times where I wouldn't take a break from my writing sessions and simply not eat and drink. I wouldn't give myself time to process everything I wrote, and I immediately after would criticize it.

However, I find that self-care is the most important part of combating the isolation that comes with being a writer. For me, that looks like making sure I get enough sleep. You can't process, learn, and remember anything when you don't have enough sleep. During my personal self-care, when I do 45-to 1-hour writing sessions, I usually take a short nap after. Eating nourishing meals and snacks is important, as is making time for the hobbies and activities that bring me joy. I usually like reading books, spending quality time with my family members, and very feisty (and sometimes scary) cat.

3. Cultivate Gratitude

When loneliness starts to creep in, it can be really helpful to shift our mindset and focus on what we are grateful for; this can be really productive and rewarding. Being a writer is a gift; we get to spend our days doing what we love, bringing our creative visions to life and sharing them with people who love literature. Readers are such a big part of being a writer, and they're huge motivations to me.

So, if you can, just take a moment to appreciate the joys of writing. For example, if you have any writing quirks, I personally have to wear bracelets on both of my wrists in order to produce some type of creativity when I write. I'm not sure why it's just something I noticed. I also really love writing my manuscripts physically. I tend to do this when I'm suffering from writer's block, and for some reason my writing style is a lot better.

And don't forget the many other joys of writing, like drafting, and the excitement of sharing your work with others. Having a new idea come to mind that fits perfectly in your plot. Or even a reader or beta reader sharing a comment on your work and giving you encouragement.

Also, please celebrate your wins; it makes writing all too fun, and it's a great way to integrate writing into the real world.

End Note

I wanted to write this post because I know a lot of us deal with feeling lonely; I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time, and I wanted to share it with Tumblr. I feel like each and every one of you all feel the same way. And that’s why I created my Tumblr community; that's the reason I created this blog, and that's the reason I strive to build this into an entire brand.

I want to bring more awareness to writers, we are the people behind the stories, movies, and media that we consume today, and we barely get any credit for our work. I want to make a brand where others who never thought writing to be their passion could actually for once consider “Is writing for me?”

I feel like it's such an underrated yet overrated passion. Yet it's not acknowledged as much. 

I hope this post can make you understand that writing is 90% lonely and you are not crazy for thinking so. But, we can use the resources we have today, like social media, to change that and make writing better for the present and the future. 

Thank you all for reading. And please, if you are considering joining a community if you haven't already, please join The Write Right Society. We recently met 100 members, and the community is continuing to grow.

[writers-potion]

Do yoh happen to have any resources for how to write a stripper character? In my novel idea the stripper character is a secondary character more meant to teach the protag that the world is filled with just as much beauty as there is cruelty and will eventually take in the protag after they escape their creator's clutches at the very end of the novel (Frankenstein inspired)

Writing A “Story B” Lead Character

Hello! First of all, thank you for this beautiful question. I know your question started by asking about how you should craft a stripper character, but I would like to pay more attention to the function that your stripper character is serving – the Story B Lead. 

What is a Story B Lead? Simply put, they are characters that lead the side plot in any story – most typically, the love interest (if you have a romantic side arc, the most typical type of Story B). 

The main job of the Story B Lead is:

Give the readers a break from the main plot. Story B shouldn’t be as serious or daunting as Story A — let your hero have some fun, explore new things, and find love while he figures out how to fight the big bad boss.

Convey the theme of the story. The easiest example is the love interest in superhero stories. When the hero is too focused on the fight, the love interest often provides a new perspective to find the critical clue or make the hero realize there are more important things than chasing power. 

Be a part of the sucko ending. Whether your Story B has a happy or sad ending, the conclusion of all the fun the hero has must supplement the main story’s ending in some way. 

So, let’s construct your stripper character based on the criteria outlined. 

Give her a backstory that will hit the protagonist differently. Think about the relevance of the stripper in your protagonist’s character arc. Is she someone your protagonist can look up to? What was her struggle of living as someone’s creation? Does your protagonist fear that they will become like her? 

Make her attractive, fun, quirky. Story B is where we get to stress a bit less about the main conflict to explore more of the story world. Use your stripper character to show what it means to be a creation – do other strippers alienate her? Physical quirks? Some things only she can do because she was “created”, not “born”?

Give her a thematic statement that summarizes what she stands for. For example, she may say: “Some say that beauty is terror. I say there’s beauty in the most terrible things.” as she drags a crying protagonist onto a packed stage. 

Don’t let her drag your protagonist around. Taking in the protag sounds like a fully closed happy ending, but remember that your protagonist must choose to be with your side characters – not the other way around.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! Also, join my Tumblr writing community for some more fun.

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[something-tofightfor]

Liminality: Part 12

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader

Word Count: 8,426

Rating: R - for violence, injury, blood, fear etc... but there's also feelings.

Summary: In the aftermath of your attack by the Chaos Wolf, you and Frankie have a long - and important - heart to heart.

And when you meet up with all of his friends to recount your story and begin to plan for what will happen next, you realize that what you plan for may not always be possible.

Author’s note:

Happy full moon + partial eclipse. Tonight is the best possible night to release this chapter, and I'm so glad it all lined up.

I'm so excited for you to read this chapter. I have been waiting a long time to get to this point. Thank you for being patient, and for sticking around. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Wanna talk about Wolf Frankie or his friends? My inbox is always open.

Masterlist (for the journal entries and all of the other 'extras' + previous chapters)

You both slept most of the day, and when you woke up later, there were multiple missed messages on his phone from his friends. He answered them while the two of you waited for dinner to be delivered, and it gave you a chance to check your phone, too. 

There was a text from Alec, and with some hesitation, you decided to tell him the truth about what happened. You sent him a voice note outlining the previous night, and by the time you finished it, Frankie’s attention was back on you, his mouth set in a deep frown as he listened. At least I only have to explain once. 

“Can I see the video?” His voice was even, but you heard the unease in it, Frankie’s posture rigid. “See what it looks like?” 

“Yes.” Scooting closer to him on the couch, you opened your camera and then the video, hanging your phone over. “But you need to watch the beginning, too. Before the wolf. It’s important.” 

He pressed play, eyes on the screen and at the sound of your own voice, you looked away, staring out the window. You had no desire to watch your attack, and even though it was the truth, you were somewhat embarrassed at the way you’d bared your feelings to him before the wolf had found you. So I’ll just let him watch and listen. 

You stared out the window until you heard yourself scream for Will, and then you looked back at Frankie, watching his reaction to what he was seeing onscreen. It was subtle, but you saw the way his body stiffened, watched the color of his eyes briefly change again, flashing gold for a few seconds as his nostrils flared, your screaming and the wolf’s growling louder than you thought it would be through your phone’s speakers. 

The sound of a gunshot rang out, and for the second time, you heard the wolf react to getting shot, followed by the sound of Will’s voice and yours, the video ending abruptly and plunging the room into silence. Frankie didn’t speak right away, but when he did, it was to whisper your name and then pull you into his lap, his arms going around you before pulling you tight against his chest.

“You’re so fucking brave, do you know that?” He spoke into your ear, the tip of his nose grazing the shell of it. “Most people would have dropped the phone. Most people would have been too afraid to fight back. Most people would have run screaming when they saw what I go through every month.” Frankie pressed his lips to your cheek. “You didn’t. You weren’t. You stayed. You got the other wolf on video. I don’t even know how to…” His arms tightened around you. “Tell me what you were going to say.”

“What?” It took you by surprise, and you backed away, meeting his gaze. “What do -”

“You got cut off when the wolf showed up.” He swallowed hard, unblinking. “That’s the second time you’ve been in the middle of saying something to me and you got interrupted.” You’re not really doing this now, are you? “D’you want to finish that sentence?” 

“I do, but...” Pressing a hand to his chest, you could feel his heartbeat thrumming beneath your palm, though the rest of him gave almost nothing away. He’s anxious. He’s … why? What does he expect? You stared at him, thinking, and wondered what he saw in your expression. I already told Pope. “I’m scared, Francisco.” You spoke quietly, but didn’t look away. “It -”

“I’ve read up on a lot of shit over the past couple years.” He cleared his throat, the hand on your back moving in a slow circle. “Just to try and see how similar my behavior is to a regular wolf’s. I’ve seen videos of myself while I’m not human, and I remember what happens, so…” He shrugged. “And it’s pretty typical for both.” You nodded, unsure of where he was going. “But the more time that passed, I started noticing that I was doing … different things, even when I’m human.” He frowned, but quickly erased the expression from his face though the furrow in his brow didn’t lessen any. “My sense of smell’s better. My vision’s improved, even though it was damn good before. My reflexes are back to what they were when I first joined the Army, or better, maybe.” 

“That’s good for a pilot.” He nodded, still stroking your back.

“I figured that since it’s always in me, the longer it was there and the more used to it I got, the more … we’d mesh.” His other hand moved down to your hip and squeezed. “I’ve always been protective of my family, but when I came back, the first time I saw Carmen? I’d never felt anything like that before. It was like … I can’t explain it. And I thought that the same would be true for Becca, because even though we had problems, I still … we’d been together forever, y’know? Mother of my kid and everything, but it wasn’t like that. Ever. I didn’t have the same … drive when it came to her as I did for Carmen and even the guys. Losing any of them would have been fucking awful, but my relationship with Becca? It sucked when it ended but I wasn’t…” 

“Frankie, you don’t -”

“No, I do. Let me explain.” He swallowed hard, and then took a deep breath. “I want to protect you. I’ve told you that before, but it …” He closed his eyes, swearing under his breath. “The first night I met you. Do you remember what happened?’

“Yeah. You fucked me in front of your fireplace and we both pretended it was going to just be a casual hookup.” He smiled, his eyes flashing with amusement. 

“I bit you.” His gaze dropped, lingering on your neck for a few seconds before it rose again. “I bit your neck.” He smiled. “Actually, I paid a lot of attention to your neck, and -” Just like he did last night when he turned. Was that the wolf’s interest in me from the very beginning? Fuck. “And I didn’t want to go into the bedroom with you, I -”

“You wanted me on the floor.” Your eyes widened. “And it didn’t feel right until you were behind me, and…” It was all coming together for you, and you were stunned. It shouldn’t have taken this long. I should have realized. “It was a wolf’s instincts from the beginning. And you’re… it’s just… fuck, Frankie.” 

“Some part of me knew from the beginning how I’d… how important you were going to be to me. It doesn’t make sense. None of this does.” He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “But if it’s the wolf and it’s making everything I already do and feel stronger, then…” He took another breath and let it out, the sound shaky. “I treated you like a mate from the very first night, and you reacted the way that I hoped you would, even if I didn’t realize I was doing it at first.”

“You scented me last night.” Your jaw dropped. “I thought you were trying to hug me, but when you put your paws on me, it was because …” You wanted me to smell like you. Oh, Frankie. 

“I asked you to stay.” His heartbeat had slowed and Frankie’s voice was steady, but you could feel his tension. “Everything else might be the wolf, but that was all -”

“No.” You leaned in, shaking your head. “It’s you, Frankie. The wolf, the man, all of it’s the same thing.” Are you really going to do this? “I don’t have friends. I don’t have people I can count on, except for Alec, and even that’s spotty.” Biting the inside of your lip, you narrowed your eyes. “But ever since I first got here, it felt different.” You’re going to do this. “I’ve never been as scared as I was last night. And yeah, I thought I was going to die for a second, but it was more than that.” 

“You didn’t, though. You did what you needed to do.” He squeezed your hip. “You were perfect.” 

“It’s too soon to say any of this, and I understand that.” You steadied yourself, closing your eyes and taking a breath . “But if I didn’t say it and I never got to, I’d regret it.” He hummed but didn’t interrupt, and so you continued, opening your eyes and meeting his. “I was scared I was going to die last night before I got to tell you I love you. I thought it days ago, but after last night, after seeing you in that clearing, I … I know it.” 

It felt good to say the words. Admitting to the truth was freeing, but Frankie’s silence unnerved you. He wasn’t expecting that. Why would he? It’s been two months. “Repeat that.” He wet his lips and then drew the lower one back and between his teeth. “Please.” 

“I love you, Francisco Morales. And believe it or not, I want to protect you just as much as -”

“The first time we met, when I sat next to you at the bar? I knew it was different.” He shook his head, looking down and then back up. “There was something about you, about the way you smelled, and because it was only a couple days after a full moon, it … there was no way I could miss it.”

“I missed it, though. I just thought you were shit at hiding being attracted to someone.” He laughed quietly, rolling his eyes. “We both tried pretty hard that night to play it cool, didn’t we.” Frankie nodded, the look in his eyes soft. “All I wanted to do that next morning was kiss you.” You looked down, nerves catching up to you as you registered the fact that he still hadn’t replied to the fact that you’d told him you loved him. “I just thought you should know. I -” 

He reached up and used one knuckle beneath your chin to urge you gaze back to his face. “You shouldn’t have stopped yourself the other night in bed.” Oh. really? “I didn’t think it was fair to put any of this shit on you before you saw everything, though, so I didn’t ask you about it.” He steadied himself with one deep breath, nodding as he said your name. “You still feel that way after yesterday? After … you got attacked?”

“Yes.” Your answer was immediate, eyes going wide as you spoke. “That had nothing to do with you, Frankie. Why would it change how I feel about you?”

“Because you know what one of us can do to someone. You’ve seen the way it changes me, and it’s not going to stop. This is my life for as long as I’m living, and if you love me, that means you accept that, and the chance that I might turn on you at some point.” 

“You won’t. If you were going to, you would have yesterday. I trust you.” He still hasn’t said anything back. All he’s done is try to talk me out of feeling this way. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, the look in his eyes sad. “It is, especially coming from you. You shouldn’t love me. You shouldn’t love someone like me, especially after you’ve been looking for wolves to -”

You stood abruptly, wincing as you put weight onto your leg - and distance between the two of you. “No, not just any wolves, Frankie. The Chaos wolves. You’re not one of them. You proved that.” You moved further away, your back to him to hide the fact that you were in pain. “And if you’ve been treating me like your mate since the beginning, you obviously would have noticed if I’d had any reservations about that, or about you or about being with you.” 

It hurt - not that he hadn’t immediately told you that he loved you, too, but that you’d bared your feelings to him, and all Frankie had done was question your admission. Especially after how he’s noticed he’s been treating me. Especially with what I thought he felt toward me. You stood in front of the fireplace, crossing your arms over your chest and blinking back tears.

The room was silent, thick with tension and almost uncomfortable, but moments later it was shattered by the ringing of the doorbell. Food’s here. Rubbing at the bridge of your nose, you lowered your head and closed your eyes. I’m not hungry. I should go. “Let me know what I owe you for dinner, Frankie. I think I’m going to go back to my -”

“Please don’t.” You heard the couch springs creak and then a few footsteps as he made his way to where you were, stopping before he got close enough to touch you. “Please don’t leave.” You turned slowly to face him, unsure of what to expect. 

It certainly wasn’t a look of unease on his face, or his lower lip trembling. And it also wasn’t his slumped shoulders or the nervous shuffling of his feet, Frankie shaking his head as he stared at you. “Why? I just bared my goddamn emotions to you, Frankie, and all I get in return is you telling me that I shouldn’t feel a certain way, or that I couldn’t possibly understand what I’m getting myself into with you. That’s what love is, right? Taking a chance and going into things unprepared and trusting yourself to navigate through it all with the person you’re with?”

“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “But it’s not usually with someone like me.”

“Alec and Ashley seem to be perfectly happy together.” You swiped a hand over your face, the sadness turning into anger. “He was raised in the same damn way I was and he’s having a baby with a wolf. Fuck, Frankie, you’re not the only person in this world that -”

“We stole hundreds of millions of dollars from a drug lord.” He stepped even closer, straightening up. “So I’m also thinking of that when I consider how the fuck I feel about you, and how close it’s safe to let you get.” His lip curled, and Frankie’s head moved back and forth a few times. “It’s not just that I’m a wolf. I might also have a target on my back for a lot of other reasons, and bringing you into my life fully puts that on you, too.” 

You hadn’t considered that, and you knew that your expression gave it away. Fuck. He’s right. “Frankie, I -”

“I’m fucking in love with you, and every time I’ve thought about telling you that these past couple weeks, I’ve convinced myself not to for multiple reasons. And hearing you say it first, I … fuck.” You gasped, a shaky breath escaping you, and when Frankie took another step forward, you nodded, tears filling your eyes. “I wasn’t looking for this. I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, but you’re right. It doesn’t matter. You need to know. You deserve to know.” 

“You’re in love with me?” He nodded, one large hand rising so that he could slide his fingers along your jaw, his thumb catching briefly on your lower lip. “Really?” He nodded again, unblinking. “Well that’s good to hear.” 

Silence hung between you for a few tense seconds and then he laughed, his other arm going around you. He took the final step and closed the distance completely, crushing you to his chest without forcing you to take a step on your injured leg. Your tears started falling when he lowered his head to speak into your ear, murmuring that he didn’t know what to fucking do with you, but you were too overwhelmed to speak. He’s in love with me. He’s in love with me but was scared to tell me because of everything he’s been through and done and … fuck. I shouldn’t have pushed. I shouldn’t have forced him to… “Hey.” 

“Yeah?” You backed off, meeting his gaze again. “Hmm?” 

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you any of this.” Frankie used one knuckle to brush tears from your cheeks. “I’m not happy I’m a wolf now, but I’ve made peace with it, y’know? I just sort of figured that I’d never really have anyone permanent in my life again, and then you …” He swore quietly, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You showed up and just …” 

You understood immediately, Frankie’s desire to protect you winning out over his emotional detachment. And he doesn’t know what to be more worried about, the drug money or the wolf, which is …God, I can’t even imagine what he must be thinking. “We can start over.” Your voice low, you tightened your hold on him, fingers gripping the material of his shirt. “This conversation anyway. Start at the beginning, and -”

“I’m in love with you. I want you to stay here, in Florida with me. I want to find this wolf and get rid of it and then figure out what comes next, but …” Frankie took a deep breath, nodding. “I want to be with you. There’s so much shit I still need to tell you, that I want to tell you.” He paused, wetting his lips with a flash of his tongue. “If you’ll let me.” 

“I will.” Your heart was pounding in your chest, eyes locked with his. “If you’re honest with me, I’m more than happy to listen to whatever you’ve got to say.” Here goes nothing. “That’s what happens when you love someone, right?” He nodded slowly, never looking away from you. “Then yeah, Francisco. We’ll do that.” 

“Good.” He bit down on the inside of his lip, narrowing his eyes. “Do you actually want to go, or were you just trying to bow out because you thought I wasn’t going to say anything back to you?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.” You looked up, eyes on the ceiling for a few seconds as you thought. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but the idea of being alone right now isn’t appealing, either.” 

He didn’t say anything right away, instead leaning in and kissing your forehead, his lips lingering. “Why don’t we eat dinner, and then we can decide what to do next, alright?” Frankie spoke quietly, sighing as he straightened up. “We’ve got a month to figure this shit out.” 

— 

“Frankie, we’re going to have to get out of this bed at some point.” You sighed, reaching down to drag your fingers through his damp curls. “We have plans tonight.” He was wrapped around you, cheek resting against your chest. “And to be honest, I need a couple hours of rest, because -”

“You weren’t complaining earlier.” Tightening his hold on you, he tipped his head back so that he could catch your eye. “Or this morning, or -” He wasn’t wrong. Since you’d admitted the truth to each other the night after the full moon, the two of you had barely been able to keep your hands off of each other when you were in the same room. 

You’d lost count of the number of times you’d been together, the hours slipping away as you spent them tangled up in his bed and shower. It was like a barrier had been broken down completely, freeing you to not only act on your true feelings, but to stop hiding them, too. He whispered that he loved you over and over between kisses, and hearing his voice repeat it at full volume before he left for work and when he got home in reply to your greeting made you feel at peace in a way that you’d never anticipated. 

But the truth was that you were tired, despite getting good sleep, and you knew that he was, too. “I’m still not complaining.” You sighed, pulling on a curl. “But we need to go and meet your friends, and I’d like to be alert for that conversation.” He laughed, finally letting go of you and sitting up to stretch. “Is this how it’s going to be every month after the moon? Because if it is, I might need to take some extra vitamins, or buy stock in electrolytes or -” 

“Might be.” He wrinkled his nose, reaching up to ruffle his own hair. “Donno yet.” He was joking, and the two of you laughed together, Frankie leaning down to kiss you softly on the mouth. “It’s just nice not to have to hide anything, and I know that when we go over there, it won’t be like that.” 

You sat up, too, leaning against his headboard and pulling the blankets up to cover your chest. “I get it.” You shrugged, nodding. “But I do think it’s for the best.” 

The two of you were meeting his friends for the first time since your attack to fill them in on all the details. You were going to be honest with them about everything - except for why you were in Florida. While in truth, it would only be Benny and Tom that didn’t know the whole story, widening the circle of trust even that much further seemed risky. It wasn’t because Frankie didn’t trust the two of them; instead, it was because he didn’t want to make you explain your entire family’s history, or bring Ashley and Alec into it without their permission. 

Will’s knowledge of the situation had been the result of circumstance, and though you were glad that he knew, part of you wished that you hadn’t slipped up in front of him. Because it feels like too many people know, and nothing’s changed as a result. “I’m gonna jump in the shower.” He stood up, giving you a lengthy opportunity to stare at his bare ass, and then headed for the bathroom. “You wanna come with me and conserve some water?” 

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” You grinned and got out of the bed, too. “Saving the environment?”

“It can be.” He waited at the door for you, reaching back so that you co uld take his hand. “Just for tonight.” Both of you were laughing as you entered the bathroom, Frankie flipping the lightswitch up before you shut the door behind you. 

— 

“Where’s Molly?” You looked out the window at Tom’s place, eyeing the well-kept lawn and pristine house. “You guys don’t come over here to meet up often, right?”

“She’s gone for a couple days with her friends, I think?” He pulled up to the curb, parking his truck. “And Tessa’s in college now, so she only comes home on weekends to do her laundry.” He laughed. “They moved her into her dorm a little while ago.” You hadn’t realized that - but you were thankful that there was a place that all of you could talk without interruptions. Not that Yovanna is an interruption, but … “And he’s always looking for an excuse to use his grill, so it worked out.” 

You made your way to the gate that led to the back yard, Frankie walking slower than usual to accommodate your injury. It felt much better, and he’d re-bandaged it for you twice, checking on the state of it and reporting back to Will, but it still hurt, and there was no reason to push it. 

The others were already there when you rounded the garage and made it to the back lawn, and you and Frankie were greeted with a chorus of hellos, Benny lifting his beer bottle in salute. But the smile on his face froze when he got a good look at you, his gaze going immediately to your bandaged leg. Here we go. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” He frowned, looking at Frankie. “‘Fish? Wh-”

“That’s her story to tell.” He pulled your chair out for you, waiting until you were seated to drop into the one next to it. “Figured it’d be better to do it in person.” You gave Benny a smile and then looked in Pope’s direction, nodding before letting your eyes move to Will and finally to Tom, who was standing next to the grill with one hand on his hip. He looked curious, holding your gaze for longer than he usually did before shaking his head and clearing his throat. 

“Well we’re all here and in person.” He stepped toward you. “And we’re listening.” You felt Frankie’s hand on your knee, the pressure welcome as he squeezed it. “What happened to you?” There was no way to sugarcoat it, and no real reason to, and so you didn’t, opening your mouth and letting the words tumble out. 

“I got attacked by the other wolf in the clearing outside the RV.” It sounded impossible, even by your standards, and that feeling only grew when you continued. “It didn’t bite me, though. It just clawed at me, and then Will shot it, and -” 

“WHAT?” Benny was on his feet, fingers balled into fists by his sides. “You what? My brother did what? And we’re just now hearing about -”

“Benjamin.” Frankie’s voice was quiet, but you heard the power behind it. “Calm down.” The younger Miller stilled, though his expression didn’t soften. “Nobody said anything because we wanted to tell the story once. And we took a few days to recover, but none of the three of us thought that a phone call or a text message was the right way to talk about this.” 

Benny finally nodded before dropping back into his chair, his gaze focused on your injury. It was Pope that spoke up next, reaching across the table to touch your hand before saying anything. “Are you alright?”

“I am. It was a little scary for a couple minutes, but as soon as Will scared it off, it was … better.” He nodded, leaning back. “No, you know what?” You closed your eyes, steeling yourself before you pressed your lips together and nodded. “It was really fucking scary for a few minutes. I thought … I didn’t think I was going to make it.” 

“But you did.” Tom crossed his arms low across his chest, tilting his head to the right. “It didn’t try to bite you? Really?”

“Really.” Flattening your hands on the tabletop, you looked between the four other guys again, taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “If you come and sit I’ll tell you all exactly what happened.” For a second, you didn’t think he’d join you - but then Tom crossed the patio and pulled out his own chair, dropping into it without looking away. 

It took a little while because they all interrupted you, but with Will and Frankie’s help, you recounted the events from the night you’d been attacked. And when you pulled your phone out, opening the cropped video and pressing play, they were all locked in, eyes on the tiny screen throughout the duration of it. It played once for all of them, and then each man took your phone in turn, the device held up close to their faces as they analyzed the other wolf’s attack. Benny’s response was anger, his lip curling while his head whipped back and forth. Pope just seemed sad, his large brown eyes filled with emotion as he winced at the sound of your screams. Will’s expression was full of intrigue, his brows knit as he used both fingers to zoom in on your screen toward the end, mumbling the words I should have aimed higher before he handed it to Tom. 

And Tom’s response shocked you most of all, his posture rigid as he stared at the screen, teeth digging into his lower lip. When he set your phone down and slid it toward you, he finally spoke, leaning in to lock eyes with you. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because it’s a good thing, but why the fuck didn’t it bite you?” 

Frankie growled from next to you, but you murmured his name, head moving slowly back and forth. “I don’t know. I’ve tried to figure that out for the last couple days, and all I’ve come up with is that maybe it didn’t want to? I don’t think it wanted to turn me the way the kid that bit Frankie did, I think it just … wanted to hurt me.” Lowering your eyes to where your fingers were linked on the scarred wood, you took a deep breath. “And it did. But not like it… he has hurt the other people he’s attacked.” The guys all nodded in agreement, but none of them spoke before you went on. “At least now you all know what it looks like. You know for a fact that it’s not Frankie attacking anyone. I don’t know what good that will do, but -”

“How did it know you’d be there?” Tom’s voice was soft, the the fingers of one hand rhythmically tapping the table. “That RV isn’t even in a real camping spot, we had to bribe them to approve the space for it.” He rubbed at his forehead. “It doesn’t make any fucking sense.” 

“It does.” Frankie spoke up, leaning forward so that he could look at Tom. “Based on the pattern.” He explained your theory about the other wolf working his way through local parks that had campsites, explaining that Richloam was one of the final ones in the area that hadn’t been an attack site in the past. “And I can smell people from miles away those nights, so he probably smelled all of us, maybe even me as a wolf, and came running.” 

Tom looked thoughtful, his attention moving between you and Frankie for long moments before he swiped a hand over his face. “Fuck.” 

“So what do we do now?” Pope leaned back in his chair, exhaling. “Frankie, you said there was a pattern to the places the other wolf’s been attacking? Do you think we can use that to figure out where he’ll be next month?”

“Maybe.” Frankie leaned in, nodding. “There were only two or three that were left that are similar to the ones he’s already been to, but Richloam was the most likely. I just didn’t think … I didn’t think our campsite would be where he went first.” Frankie looked over at you, wetting his lips and then lowering his gaze to the tabletop. “He’s either going to branch out and find places further away, or start the pattern again.” He looked up, meeting the eyes of each of his friends in turn. “It’s what I’d do.” 

“Makes sense.” Will agreed, scratching the side of his head. “To someone that’s not looking for a wolf, the attacks seem like random animals, and I’m sure at least a couple of the parks and swamps have had others since the first one we noticed that are just shit like big cats and things fucking with campsites.” You hadn’t looked into that, and made a mental note to do so when you got back to Frankie’s. I should have already thought of it. 

“But what the fuck do we do about it? One of us goes out to each of the most likely places, while ‘Fish picks one of us to come with?” Benny pointed at you, shaking his head. “Do we let you go out by yourself, or always pair you with Frankie because if this fuckin’ thing got your scent, he might be looking? Do we all stay at the camper every full moon so there’s five of us with guns and -”

“I can’t exactly leave my wife once a month on every full fuckin’ moon, Benny.” Tom gestured toward the house, his tone harsh. “She’s not dumb. She’d ask questions, and unlike Morales, I don’t exactly want to tell her wh-”

“Guys.” Will stood, holding his hands out. “Look, we don’t need to decide anything tonight. We know what happened. We know that we need to come up with something before the next full moon. When is that, by the way?” 

“October 28th.” You were the first to answer, certainty in your tone. “The Hunter’s Moon.” You reached for your phone and pulled it back toward you, fingers curling around the device. “And I have every intention of being a part of this plan - whatever it is, because the sooner we deal with this, the sooner Frankie and I can …” 

You trailed off, realizing that you’d just admitted to the fact that you and Frankie were considering a future together. Shit. Did he want that? Did - “The sooner we figure all of this out, the sooner we can figure out how her staying here works.” He reached over and put his hand on top of yours, slowly looking between each of the others. “Because that’s what’s happening. We’re -”

“Hell yeah, brother!” Benny jumped up and circled the table, first clapping Frankie on the shoulder before he put him in a loose headlock, the two of them laughing. When he let go, he moved to you, winding his arms around you from behind and ducking down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “And good for you too. There are plenty of worse guys out there than ‘Fish.”

It made you laugh - Benny lightening the mood significantly, and when you tipped your head back so that you could plant a kiss on his cheek, he grinned and winked before he backed away. “He’s alright.” That made the others laugh, too, and when Pope stood to go and get another drink, the conversation around the table resumed. 

You settled in, Frankie by your side with an arm around your shoulders as all of you caught up with each other. For the next hour, everything was normal, and when Tom stood to preheat the grill, you also pushed away from the table, excusing yourself to use the bathroom. 

“I’ll come with you.” Tom pointed at the grill. “This is ready, so I need to get dinner out of the fridge anyway.” 

There was a small bathroom off of the kitchen, which was bright and cheerful with lots of natural light and greenery. Molly, I’m sure. He was still inside when you finished, and when Tom turned in your direction, holding out a tray of skewered vegetables, you took them happily. “I’ll be honest. I never pictured you as a grill guy, Tom.” 

“Oh yeah?” He grinned at you and you nodded, eyes on him as he picked up a tray of hamburgers and hotdogs. “What did you think I was?” He gestured to the bags of buns before he grabbed a basket full of cutlery and condiments, and then the two of you headed back for the door. He pushed the screen to the side, waiting for you to walk through. 

“I don’t know. I just figured with as much time you spent enlisted, you never had time to learn to cook.” You jerked your chin forward. “Or grill.” He spoke as he followed you, his tone amused. 

“Molly’s the cook. And I’m decent with grilling, but I like it.” You set what you carried down and then turned to reach for the condiments, Tom reaching forward to hand them to you. You caught the wince he tried to hide - slight but still noticeable, his jaw tightening briefly before it relaxed and he spoke again. What did they say happened? Tess and volleyball? “And these assholes will eat just about anything, so as long as I don’t turn their burgers into fucking hockey pucks, it’s fine.” 

Benny snorted but agreed, and even Will nodded briefly, though there was an expression on his face you couldn’t read. You sat down next to Frankie again, and without hesitation he reached over and took your hand, squeezing after linking your fingers together. Ask later. “I’m also not a fan of eating hockey pucks, so…” Tom held up both hands after setting the meat down, muttering the word understood, and then pulled the top of the grill open. 

The conversation continued around you, and as the smell of cooking meat and vegetables filled the air, you fully relaxed. The weather was nice, the company was even nicer, and the fact that everyone was 90% on the same page was a relief. 

“Hey.” Frankie’s voice was quiet in your ear as he leaned in closer, his lips curved upward in a tiny smile. “Ironhead and I are going in to get another round of drinks. You need one?” You did - and told him as much, eyeing the two men as they stood from the table and left you, Pope, Benny and Tom in the back yard. 

When Benny stood to walk over to Tom, you turned your attention to Pope, beginning a conversation about him and Yovanna, and what they’d been up to. He answered enthusiastically, his face lightning up as he spoke, and you were so engrossed in what he was saying that you almost missed Frankie and Will coming back, setting down bottles and cans in front of where everyone was sitting. 

Dinner was ready only a few minutes later, and while you ate, there was none of the lingering tension from the beginning of the conversation, or even any of the uncertainty that you’d seen on Will’s face. You chalked it up as just a product of the situation you’d all found yourselves in, and once again let your guard down. 

It was stupid not to; you were surrounded by a retired Delta Force team and the full moon was weeks away. Nothing was going to happen to you in Tom’s back yard, and even the dull itch of your healing leg wasn’t enough to deter you from that line of thinking. 

As the night went on and dinner was cleared from the table, the six of you moved from the patio and into the yard, sitting in a circle around a small fire pit. You knew that you and Frankie would have to leave earlier than everyone else - he had flights the following morning, and needed to sleep - but the truth was that you didn’t want to leave. 

You’d been to gatherings before, though none of them had been with actual friends. You’d attended bonfires and parties, scoring invites from people you’d met in previous cities in an attempt to strike up conversations with people as they drank or smoked more and let their guard down. But you’d never been to a night like the one that night, and even though you enjoyed yourself, it was also a reminder that no matter how close you got with Frankie and the others, they had true history together, something that you’d never had the opportunity to experience. 

“You alright?” Frankie leaned over, ducking his head to kiss your shoulder. “You’re quiet.” 

“I’m just glad to be here.” You gestured with your bottle, indicating his friends. “It’s a nice change of pace from my usual routine.” You could see that he understood, and while the two of you stared at each other, the firelight flickering in his eyes, you also understood how much the time with his friends in a casual setting meant. “We should probably go soon, though, right?” Chewing on your lip, you took a deep breath. “You’ve got a 10 am, right?” 

“Right.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching. “And that alarm goes off early.” Frankie groaned, reaching up to pull his hat off before using the back of his hand to rub at his eye. “We’re gonna get going.” The other conversation stopped, everyone’s attention going back to you. “We should probably figure out what we’re doing about next month pretty soon, just so we’re all on the same page.”

“Think it’s my turn to head out with you, ‘Fish.” Benny cleared his throat. “But I’m not opposed to turning it into an all play, just to cover our asses.” 

“Might be a good idea.” Pope sighed, rubbing at the space between his eyes. “I think it’s gonna come back and try to see if we’re back at the RV. It had to have smelled wolf-you, Frankie. It might even go back there as a human to scope it out, so -”

“I can head out there in the next couple days.” Tom leaned forward, the hand holding his beer dangling between his knees. “See if everything looks right. Check on the blind, replenish the first aid kit, all that.” Frankie nodded from next to you, and you opened your mouth to speak, but Will beat you to it. 

“Will you be able to get away with us next month, Redfly?” He sipped from his beer, gesturing to the rest of you with it. “Strength in numbers and all that shit?”

“No.” Tom shook his head, staring at the blonde. “There’s a realtor’s conference in Orlando that goes all weekend. Didn’t get to go to the one in August, so I thought this one was a good backup.” He cleared his throat. “I can do whatever you need me to until that Wednesday night, but I won’t be home for the full moon.” 

“Alright.” Will agreed, shrugging. “We’ll do it without you, then.” You could hear the annoyance in his tone, but everyone else ignored it - and so you did, too… at least outwardly. It’s bullshit that Tom hasn’t helped the same ways that the others do. You stood, reaching behind you to move the chair out of the way so that you could head for the fence gate. It seems like he’s just making excuses, and that’s… it’s fucking bullshit. 

It wasn’t your place to say anything, and even though part of you hoped that one of the others would, you didn’t know how likely it was. “Thanks for dinner, Redfly. See you around.” Frankie moved to stand next to you, extending the goodbyes to the rest of his friends. “Let me know what you find at the RV, alright?”

“Sure.” Tom stood, too, sticking one hand in his pocket and jerking his chin at you. “Take care of that leg, alright?” You assured him that you would, and then you started walking again, Frankie’s hand reaching over to take your bottle from you. He dropped them into the trash can next to the back door before you made it to the side of the house, and then he linked his fingers with yours, squeezing. 

“Do you want to go to the car? I need to use the bathroom.” You stopped, turning your head toward where he stood. “Or you can come inside with me, and we’ll go out the front.” 

“That.” You nodded. “Sitting in the car alone feels weird.” He grinned and then changed course, heading for the sliding door. You followed him, moving to lean against the dividing wall between the kitchen and the front hall. The lights were dimmed, but you used the time to look around the room, taking in the details. 

It was cozy and looked lived in in a way that Frankie’s house didn’t. Molly’s influence was all over the decor, and there were fresh flowers in vases scattered around the room, too. I bet Tom doesn’t give a shit about artwork or tile style or - 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass, and instinctively, you perked up, craning your neck toward the door leading outside. There was some commotion and then the sound of voices as they got closer to the screen door, and only a few seconds later, you watched as Tom entered, his face set into an angry scowl and one hand curled into a tight fist. “You alright? I -”

“Ironhead dropped a bottle.” He went toward the sink, using his other hand to turn the tap on. “Sliced my fucking finger open helping him pick up glass.” You winced in sympathy for him, watching as he unclenched his fist and stuck his flattened palm under the water, shoulders rising and falling as he rinsed the wound. 

A few seconds later, the bathroom door opened and your attention moved to Frankie, watching as he stepped back into the kitchen, wiping his hands on his jeans. He inhaled sharply and then paused, but he veered past Tom to get back to you, sliding an arm around your waist to pull you closer. Why is he so rigid? What is going on? “You cut yourself, Redfly?”

“Beer bottle. It’s fine.” He groaned and turned the water off, reaching for a paper towel. “Ironhead already offered to stitch me up if I need it.” You laughed quietly, but Frankie didn’t, instead pulling gently on you and leading you toward the door. “Have a good night, you two. Get home safe.” 

The further you got from the kitchen, the tighter Frankie’s hold on you became. And when you were finally inside the truck, he raised both hands to the wheel, gripping it tightly enough that you heard it creak. Ok, what the fuck. “Frankie? What’s -”

“I should have fucking seen it.” He nearly growled the words, squeezing the wheel one more time before letting go and starting the truck’s ignition. “I should have fucking known. It’s been right there, in front of my goddamn face.” What? What is … His hands were shaking as he put it into drive, and even in the low light from the streetlamps, you could see that he was breathing hard. Something happened, but what? 

“Frankie, you’re scaring me.” It was the truth. You hadn’t actually felt fear around him in the entire time you’d known him up to that point. “You were fine before you went into the bathroom, and then Tom -”

“FUCK!” He reached up, pulling his hat off and flinging it at the windshield, the truck jerking to a stop at the end of the block. “I can’t fucking believe that he … goddamn him. He’s lucky I didn’t fucking …” The truck started moving again as Frankie’s head whipped back and forth, the shadows sliding over his features as you headed away from the Davis residence. What the fuck is going on with him right now?  

“Frankie?” Your heart was pounding, and even though you were afraid, you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you. Not with the way that he got me out of that house. Not with the way he got me away from … “Tom.” 

The pieces fell into place in an instant, even though you didn’t know the details. Tom’s the other wolf. Somehow, he figured it out tonight, but what would have … “Take your phone out.” He was still angry, but there was a calm to the way he spoke, and you realized that Frankie had slipped into whatever mindset he’d used to get through each mission he’d been on. He’s in survival mode. And that means he really believes this is true. “Ironhead’s going to call you as soon as he gets into his car because he knows I’m driving.” 

You wanted to reach for him, but instead you did as he told you, digging your phone out and holding it - screen up - in one hand between you. “Where are we going?”

“Back to my place.” He was still holding the wheel with both hands, eyes on the road. “Because if we don’t go there, and he checks, he’ll know.” Before you could reply, your screen lit up, Will’s name and picture on it. “Speaker, please.” 

You answered, saying hello, but you didn’t get a chance to say anything else because Will’s voice filled the cab of the truck, his tone just as calm as Frankie’s. “Well?”

“It’s fucking him. I don’t know how, but it is.” He let out a shaky breath. “Good call on the glass, by the way. I can’t believe it worked.” He smelled the blood. He smelled it the other day, and then again today. 

“Are you sure?” He wasn’t outright questioning Frankie; he was confirming. “Because -”

“I smelled his blood all over that goddamn clearing, and even though my nose isn’t as good right now, I’d know it anywhere.” You covered your mouth with your other hand, turning your head to look out your window. “Tom is the other wolf, Will. He’s been hurting people for months, and he just tried to kill my girl a few days ago. I’m fucking sure.” 

There was a long silence as you and Frankie drove through the darkness, and your fingers tightened around your phone as you waited to see who would break it. You didn’t have long to wait. Before you and Frankie made it through another light, Will’s voice came though the speaker again - just as calm, but with a note of resolve in it. 

“I guess we’ve got to decide how you want to handle it then, don’t we ‘Fish?” 

The cab of the truck was silent for a few seconds longer, and then you watched as Frankie eased his grip on the wheel with his right hand. Tom? It’s Tom? He tried to … “Can you come to my place, Ironhead?” But you said he might check. How… how will this work? “This isn’t a conversation I want to have over the phone.” 

Frankie reached over, settling a hand on your thigh and moving his thumb against it in a slow, possessive arc. His touch was gentle, though, despite the rigidity of every other part of his body. “Yeah. Let me go home and get the bike. I’ll be there in thirty.” 

You hung up then, setting your phone down into one of the cupholders - but you stayed quiet. What is there to say? With both hands free, you moved to clasp them together in your lap, but Frankie didn’t let you, intercepting the movement and capturing one hand with his and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I meant it, by the way.” His voice was low but even, and when you turned your head toward him, Frankie’s gaze slid to the right and caught yours. It didn’t surprise you that his irises were golden, and you realized in those few moments just how hard he was fighting to hold himself together. 

 You didn’t pull away - and you didn’t flinch, either. “Meant what, Francisco?” He kissed your hand again and then lowered your hands to rest against his thigh, his grip tightening. 

“I’m going to rip his fucking throat out.” 

—

[goldcranes]

might just start screaming into the void here again like i’m 14! bc i cannot go back to twitter, i never seem to find anything interesting on bluesky and threads is (unsurprisingly) a complete cesspit.

anyway i had a baby four months ago, she is the best and most important thing in the entire world but she also hates to sleep with any kind of regularity so i’m not getting much done because i’m a) sleep-deprived and b) hopping up to check on her every two minutes when she does fall asleep, which isn’t conducive to starting and finishing tasks. also i knew becoming a mum would alter my brain chemistry but WOW i did not anticipate the anxiety that steals up over me every time i lie down in bed at night. like there’s probably not an axe-murderer about to break in through my door and the building probably isn’t about to collapse on our heads and i’m probably not going to get in a horrific accident tomorrow but boy if my body doesn’t react like it definitely all will happen. great way to relax enough to fall asleep, brain. 10/10 no notes.

writing-wise, i’ve ended up in a weird schrondinger’s agent situation where i technically still have one, but also she says she’s got too much responsibility to manage me alone now so i have to sell myself to another person within her agency so they can support with my representation. which in theory is great because i do have an agent still, but in practice sucks because i’ve now sent in three separate story beginnings (of like 10k words each) plus synopses and had them all politely but firmly turned down, so i’ve got to the point where i have lost all confidence in my writing and can’t tell what’s good and what’s not anymore and am starting that “what’s even the point” spiral.

on the other hand i think i have a really good ya fantasy idea based on an old concept revolving around evil dragonriders, poison and a revenge-bent 17 year old so i think i might just write that and to hell with it?? but also i wrote the first chapter and i think it sucks. so who knows.

i’m really hoping to get back to fic as well once i can carve out some time in the day around baby (she’s started going to bed at 7ish the last few days so that might be good, although she’s up every hour or so from 1am so usually i just have to go to bed pretty directly after she does). i’m going to start by going back to my lucius/hermione fic i think. i was having fun with that one and i made a pinterest board for the horrible pureblood girls i want her to tangle with so i’m feeling ✨inspired✨

[astrofhobia]

Post-Mortem AU

It would be amazing to have a Tsams AU based on mexican culture, where real moments from the history of that country are interpreted... WAIT

PUM 💥💥 I'm here.

I started designing these guys again a bit, I didn't really like their first designs that much, but I definitely like these ones.

For now, we have three, the most important ones, within this messy story.

The Sun, The Moon and The Eclipse

I want to give a little information about these silly guys, also some fun facts.

Sunrise

Sunrise. Called "Life" in this AU. Life is the third child of the "Creator" and the youngest. His older siblings are Lunar and Earth. He was born when a star appeared in the universe, the brightest and largest star the universe had ever seen, for this reason, he is considered the god of light, the god of the sun.

His purity caught the attention of "Creator" and he proclaimed him as his son.

Life's arrival brought many changes to the universe. And thanks to him, he convinced the other gods to create things that would worship them, based on the perfection of his father. Life called them "humans" tiny humans who lived on a balanced planet, the Earth.

Sun brought mankind. And mankind called him "The god of the creation" "The god of the Sun" "The god of the life".

Sun used to rule the earth. That was for a long time... Until things started to go wrong, very very wrong.

Moondrop. They used to call her "Death" in this universe.

She was born when the first human died. The bones of that human had joined together into a sticky mass which had formed a body and finally, a consciousness. "Creator" didn't consider her a daughter of purity. But "Killcode" did, he proclaimed her his daughter, his little daughter.

She didn't usually communicate much with the other gods, she always, always kept her distance, in her own bubble.

She used to have a kingdom, "Mictlán", where the souls of humans could rest for eternity. The place used to be quite... Depressing. Souls rested... But the place was completely alone, filled with the bones of humans and only Death there...

Something you really should know. She's not here anymore.

Eclipse. Called "Death" in this AU.

War. It was his first name. He was born from Killcode's blood, the drops of red blood fell. They formed a large puddle. And from that puddle, War appeared.

Creator considered him a god... different. He really repudiated his existence. But Killcode didn't, he called him his son. His first son.

Nobody knows that. He just appeared one day with the other gods.

His arrival was controversial. The gods called him "A mad god"...

Actually, Death has forgotten most of his past. He doesn't really know how he existed, or why he is the "god of death".

Fun facts

Death has the same personality as Eclipse (EAPS).

Death (Eclipse) often has constant nightmares. Surrounded by fire as his metallic body slowly burns until he wakes up, locked in a room without light until darkness consumes him completely, bloodcurdling screams of children, etc.

Death's body parts constantly fail, they just stop working for no reason. It's something... really annoying.

Death feels nauseous at the sight of blood, he really can't stand it.

Death is uncomfortable being around a lot of children, he doesn't really know why. He is not bothered by noise, if they are dirty or naughty, he simply cannot be with children for a long time.

Death is the current prince/god of Mictlán.

Death doesn't like the rain.

Death and Life live together on Earth. They live like normal humans, in a lower-middle class house, they pay taxes and are afraid of the SAT.

Life maintains the same personality as Dark Sun (SAMS) but here it is a little calmer and much more depressing.

Life has a place to sleep. He literally has a bed that he shares with Death but the idiot can end up sleeping in a shower if he wants because he's a weirdo.

Life, ironically enough, hates humanity. No one knows why.

Life can't stand loud noise, make some noise when he's upset and you probably have a ticket to Mictlán.

If Life really had to work in the human world he would be a doctor. An emergency doctor, he practically created anatomy, he can work with this.

Life used to run a daycare alongside Death (Moon). It burned down.

Death really likes music with movement, salsa, cumbia, she's really good at that.

Death's clothing is inspired by the catrina and the traditional clothing of Nuevo Leon, Mexico.

Death hates fire.

Death really wants to stab Life.

The skull on Death and Death's chest isn't just decoration. It's practically their exposed cores. Rip that off their chest and they'll probably pass out immediately.

Death and Life are Pro-PRI. Life is ignorant. Death is evil.

Death is Pro-PAN. She really is a evil girl.

If you want to know more about these fools, you can ask, my inbox¿ is open

[elderberries-and-honey]

𝙈𝙮 𝘾𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨 & 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜

A while back I received this question asking if I'd mind explaining what my creative process is like and some wanted further explanation about what goes into planning multiple generations & arcs. I do apologize that this is so overdue, and it's literally taken me months to get to. My process is always changing, and I'm constantly adding in pieces that help make the process easier. Because of this, the way I answered the question back then is also quite outdated, at least in terms of how I plan each shoot/post, and I'll hopefully provide further clarification below the cut.

However, first and foremost, I want to say I am by no means an expert and different processes work for different people. Your creative process might look totally different than mine, and that's okay! Whatever keeps you coming back and sharing your work is always going to be the best & most efficient way of doing things.

But I do think it's helpful to get insight into what works for others when you have no clue how to plan things like this, or where to even begin. So, without further ado, here is my process.

Mainly, I use a website called Milanote. It's super helpful for organization purposes, and it's mostly free. They have free templates you can use, or you can make your own. The only downside to it is you're limited on the number of "cards" that are available to you. They do have a promo that you can use where if you get someone else to sign up, you get more cards, which is what I did.

My main folder basically looks like this:

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙀𝘼𝙍𝘾𝙃

The research folder is an unorganized, organized mess and basically just looks like this:

This is where I keep all my resources, and all of the things I've researched for my story. As you can see, this includes various sources like YouTube videos, various articles, quotes, photos and even some music as well. I like having this all in one place so it's easily accessible for me, but you could just easily keep all of this in a Google or Word doc if you're low on 'cards'.

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘼𝙍𝘾𝙎

Next we have these two sections. Obviously, I had to cover them up to avoid spoilers but I did label them to hopefully provide insight. Essentially, for this decade in particular, there are going to be various arcs happening at once, especially since the children will be growing into adults and laying their foundation is going to become crucial to the story. However, I'm trying to limit myself from having too much going on at once, which is why I try to limit myself to only four arcs playing out at once.

I will also say that Plot's A through C are interconnected, or at least they will be eventually, while Plot D concerns one of the children and will impact things later down the line. This is super important for really tying different ideas together, and making sure random plots don't seem to just pop up out of the blue.

The table for myself helps a lot with this, so that I can easily see what arcs have been started, and how many 'scenes' each one has. I find this to be useful because then I know that none of the arcs are stretching too long, which ones might need more fine tuning and which ones have yet to flourish or even begin.

Each arc basically has something like this going from beginning to end, essentially following the classic three act structure. Not all of them have five components, some more or less, but generally it ends up being five. Now, this doesn't mean every plot is only five posts or anything like that. Most of the time, the timeline of events needs to be broken off into bite sized pieces and that's okay.

The resolution doesn't always mean a happy ending, and can also serve as a way for me to introduce any new arcs for a specific character, which would then start the process over. You can kind of think about this when watching a lot of television shows. We watch all this build up starting on episode one, and things get more and more intense until we finally reach the season finale. And then woah, with two minutes left of the episode, we see that the character they just thought was dead is actually alive?! Which then leads us into season two.

I do think planning this way could feel really tedious for some, but I like to map things out before I start introducing any arcs so I at least know it isn't a quick "one shot" plot, something without actual purpose or an arc that doesn't really seem to have any sort of end goal that makes logical sense. It also just helps me remember what everyone's up to, especially when there are so many characters to keep track of.

𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙀

Before I go into the game, I basically write out a "rough draft" of sorts. This includes dialogue, any background noises (things like a clock ticking or the tapping of a pencil), a brief description of each shot/photo (including any post-editing things like adding blur effect), and a summary of what's happening in each panel.

Because I only use one document for this, and clear it out once I complete a scene, I do not have any examples to show from The Baudelaire Legacy, so I created a mock-up scenario in which Ozzy flunks a difficult test at school, as seen below.

Once I have that written, I plug it into my 'scene planning' board. However, I only include the shot/photos, and the short summary. On Milanote, I also plug in the location, time of day, attire and any pose accessories I might need (so that I remember to create an extra outfit for it). This ends up looking like the example below.

I typically will only have this open on my second monitor while I'm shooting the scene, and I just tick the boxes as I go along. This is really nice if you have to stop mid-shoot, and helps me pick up where I left off without getting confused.

I do also edit each panel in-between shooting to make sure I'm getting the shots I want, however, I don't encourage everyone to have Photoshop and Sims 4 open at the same time.

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙎

Then we have the character sheets for each of our characters. Right now, I'm only focusing on Lawrence & Winifred (though, the children's arcs are in a 'idea dump' document).

For me, this is the most important piece of the story. One of the reasons shows like The Sopranos and Breaking Bad are considered some of the best writing in television history, is mostly due to the fact that, in my opinion, they prioritize this as well. It's always good to have a strong character in mind before you begin, and this is because you don't want them to step outside themselves.

Of course, your character can change and bend within their environment or plots happening around them, and they certainly should, but you also need to ask yourself if it's being done logically. Asking yourself, 'Why did they end up this way?', 'How did we get here?' and 'How would this character specifically react to an intense situation, stress or hardship?' is crucial when writing a character that feels alive.

Having something like this helps me build their "character arc" and map it out so no one ends up being left in the dust and makes sure that everyone is important in some way. Each of the children will have a sheet created for them once they reach the teen life state as well.

I also use this page as a way to record any quirks, or habits they have. These don't have to be major or super important either. So for example, on Lawrence's character sheet, I have it written down that he wears glasses to read; a very small thing casual readers probably wouldn't even pay attention to, so it feels like an important detail to me.

𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙋𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙎𝙃𝙀𝙀𝙏𝙎

In addition to Milanote, I also Google Sheets/Docs. This is where I keep my spreadsheet and write / keep a hard copy of my story.

My spreadsheet is basically broken up into four different tabs - one for the main sims information (the Baudelaire's), side household information, my story posts and my ageing table.

My information tables look something like this:

For story posts, I use @aheathen-conceivably's method of tracking, which you can read about here. The only thing I have added in addition to what she has is a "notes" section, and this where I include any sort of post that doesn't specifically fit into any arc but is still important - things like birthdays, marriages, holidays, etc.

𝙈𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙇𝙇𝘼𝙉𝙀𝙊𝙐𝙎 𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙈𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉

In addition to all of these things, I also use Pinterest to create moodboards for each decade, as well as each character. I like to include all sorts of things like any inspiration I'm drawing from (so, things like Greta Gerwig's Little Women or HBO's Gilded Age), photos, quotes, etc.

Annnnd that's basically it! I'm hoping this provides some good insight, and is helpful in some way. I know it seems like a lot, but the more you do it, and the more you plan, the more natural it will start to feel. Again, I am not an expert in any way, and it's always difficult to explain your process in this way (and probably why I put off trying to do so for such a long time). So, please feel free to ask for clarification in regards to any part of the above.

Happy Simming ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃

[aurinavenir]

Hi there<3 I have a question. I want to try writing, but I know it will suck so I don’t know how to start. I just want to finish a short story about anything. How do I start without giving up immediately?

Hi there! I'm always happy to answer questions! I have three suggestions based on my own experience that might be helpful: 1) On getting started: When I was around ten, my grandmother (a passionate writer and poet) encouraged me to write every day after I told her I wanted to write stories like the ones I loved reading but didn’t know where to start. She suggested starting small—maybe writing a hundred words on the computer or filling half an A4 page each day. The idea was to gradually increase the goal over time. If I wrote more, fantastic! If not, I still hit my target. The important thing was having something written down, and those little goals quickly started adding up. She always said, "success breeds success," and seeing my progress made me want to keep going! 2) On worrying about 'bad writing': First, It’s completely normal for your first attempt at something new not to be your best work—everyone starts somewhere. That’s what practice is for! No one’s first attempt at anything is going to be perfect, and that’s okay. Writing can be a fun and rewarding skill to practice, the important thing to remember is: don’t give up! Second, Jodi Picoult said: “You can always edit a bad page. You can't edit a blank page.” If you look at what you’ve written and think, "this isn’t great," don’t worry! Every writer feels that way about their first drafts in some way, shape or form. That’s what editing is for. The key is to get the basics down, no matter how simple, and then go back and refine it when you’re ready. There's something incredibly satisfying about looking back at your old work/drafts and seeing how much progress you've made! At the end of the day writing is all about rewriting—final pieces are simply the result of revising over and over, not something that was perfect from the start. 3) A writing tip that helps me maintain momentum: Try ending your writing session by leaving a sentence unfinished (though have an idea of how it ends). It might sound odd, but this technique worked for Ernest Hemingway, and it works for me too! I find it much easier to pick up where I left off because the unfinished sentence creates a natural momentum, making it easier to dive back in and continue. I hope these suggestions are helpful! Of course, these are just based on my own experiences, so feel free to take what works for you and leave the rest. I'm sure you have some amazing stories in you that are waiting to be told, and it would be a shame not to put them on paper! Give writing a shot and stick with it—you might just surprise yourself! Happy writing! :)

[artist-issues]

you're fun to talk to about media so I've got something to ask.

what do you think of this trope where a lie or misconception becomes commonly accepted as truth by the characters in story? especially as a resolution.

example: in the finale of "Kubo and the two strings", the Moon King(main villain) loses his memory, so when he asks who he is, the townspeople lie to him and say he was a kind member of the community, rather than the dictator he really was.

I don't like it. I see a falsehood being widely accepted as a tragedy, and I'm just left imagining what happens if/when the characters find out the truth. I can't really take something as a happy ending when it's.. y'know, fake. I imagine you feel similarly.

but hey, I could have totally missed the point of the ending of KATTS, if you watched it, you might have seen something I didn't.

I haven’t seen Kubo in a really long time; I don’t think I was thinking critically about it the first time I watched it, so my opinion now is an afterthought. I’d have to see it again to be fair!

…But I do seem to remember that the villain is defeated with some importance placed on memory. And the identity of the monkey and that beetle warrior also have to do with the sacredness of memories. So, if that’s the case, then yeah, taking his memory away as a “good resolution” can kind of hamstring the whole theme of the movie. Unless you tilt your head and squint and go, “no, see, if all you have is bad memories, then it’s just as powerful to take those away—the point is, memories have power either way!” But even that feels a little half-baked, gymnastics-brainy.

Basically, I agree with you. A story that resolves with a character, or characters, accepting a lie as truth is always going to be a fumble of the whole story…unless it’s intended to be a tragedy, a cautionary tale. I can think of three where that’s super evident.

1 ) A Streetcar Named Desire

In this movie the main character, Blanche, is lying about who she is, for the whole story. She even has this great symbolism thing with light—she hates bright light, on the surface because she’s vain and doesn’t want anyone to see signs that she’s aging. But under the surface, the character is really an immoral, lust-filled, broken person who knows she can be cruel and isn’t deserving of love. She doesn’t want anyone to know that side of her. She hides it all under vainglory and pride. So she pretends to her sister, Stella, that she’s upright and moral and has simply fallen on hard times. But her sister’s brute of an abusive husband, Stanley, who is always 100% his authentic, awful self, sees through Blanche when she comes to stay with them. In the end, Stanley rapes Blanche and then carelessly shrugs her accusations off.

The main point of this example is that Stella, the wife of the rapist Stanley, has been portrayed the whole movie as sometimes-leaving her abusive husband…but only as far as the apartment above their own, literally right above him, so that she can easily go back to him. And at the end of the movie, when Blanche is being taken to a mental institution because she’s broken-down after being found-out as a fraud, then raped, Stella lets them take her away. And then Stella goes up to the apartment above, where she always “pretends” to leave Stanley. It’s such a halfhearted, lazy way to end a movie that’s all about desire-versus-truth. Because what it implies is that Stella is leaving Stanley for now, like she might believe that he raped her sister…but she’ll eventually go back to him. And in the meantime, Blanche goes off to the mental hospital, with this iconic line “I have always depended upon the kindness of strangers.” By which she means, “strangers don’t know what a two-faced monster I really am, so I can con them into thinking I’m a morally-upright woman fallen on hard times, and they’ll take pity on me—so sure, I’ll go with you, strange doctor I’ve never met.”

The central point of the movie is “as long as nobody looks the truth in the face, everyone can go on getting what they desire.”

Of course, that’s true. But the other truth is that, if Stella accepted what her sister and her husband really are—her sister is broken and her husband is a monster—then she could choose to rise above “animal desire.” She could choose to take care of Blanche, and Blanche would see that “someone seeing who I really am” doesn’t always have to lead to ruin and damnation. Stella could then, also, choose to really leave Stanley, for good, and be at peace, while Stanley’s “desire” would be rewarded with ruin.

But instead the opposite is what happens. Blanche goes away believing, in her broken mind, that her womanly wiles and faking will protect her from further injury, even though they never have—Stanley ends the movie exactly where he began it, screaming for Stella to come back and knowing that she will—and Stella, too, ends the movie going away from Stanley…just for a little while, until animal desire convinces her to just pretend Stanley isn’t really a monster, Blanche must be crazy, except this time, when she goes back, she’ll be carrying a child into that abusive lie.

All characters wholeheartedly embracing hurtful lies so they can keep riding their desires. I hate that movie. You could see it as a cautionary tale. Most don’t. Most see it as a movie with “hot Marlon Brando” who “really loves Stella—all the characters ‘really love each other,’ they just don’t know how to express it healthily!” 🙄

I think the worst part is that the movie behaves as if it is true that every time Blanche reveals her own brokenness or is vulnerable, the world STOMPS on her for it, nobody loves her despite her brokenness. That’s the real mistake this movie makes. It has an opportunity to show unconditional love and it leaves the audience thinking Blanche was right, and there’s no such THING as “unconditional” love, instead.

Anyway.

2) X-Men Origins: The Wolverine

This one is less thematic. But it’s just dumb because the whole movie the main character, Logan, Wolverine, is being taught that “Giving in to Bloodlust Makes You an Animal—Compassion For Those Weaker Than Yourself Makes You Human.”

So in that context, the whole narrative is centered around the exploration of “Who is Logan/Wolverine?”

…Which makes it really stupid that the movie ends with him losing his memory. So…the movie asks “Who Are You?” and right after the character figures it out, he forgets and ends it with the answer: “I don’t know who I am.”

That’s just a waste. That’s silly. It allows you to take the character to real, hearty, coming-of-age, hero-forged-in-fire, a man-born-of-tragedy places…and then just shrug all that stuff off at the end. “Never mind. But it was a fun ride, wasn’t it?”

Especially because they built it all around the dichotomy between Logan and his brother, who’s little more than an animal—and Logan and his wife, who could be an animal, but chooses compassion instead, and reminds him of his choice, too. —and then she dies, and it’s implied that maybe his brother does too, but who cares, cuz he forgets. Who cares? Not Logan. So why should the audience?

I get that they “needed” to do this so that the end of this movie sets up the beginning of the X-Men Movies, which already established that Logan can’t remember “his past.” But like…then don’t make the point of the movie “Who Am I?” just to end on “…Okay, So WHO AM I?”

It’s a fine movie up until that point.

They should’ve made the movie center around “Can’t Change What You’ve Done; But You Can Be Redeemed.” And then show his memory loss around a moment of self-sacrifice. So that it’s still tragic, but at least when he wakes up from the self-sacrificial act, he’s “a new man.” Then later, in the third X-Men movie, when Logan chooses that mutant kid over “learning the secrets of his past,” it all comes full circle, because his “self-sacrifice moment” can stay where the Old Logan died.

Anyway. You didn’t ask me to re-tell X-Men Origins: The Wolverine. But it’s the same basic premise—a movie ends with a character losing their memory, or believing a lie—whatever.

You know, actually, this one isn’t so much “believing a lie” as it is “going back to considering the lie (that he’s an animal) because all the work done to convince him of the truth has been stupidly erased”

3) The Dark Knight

Saved this for last because nobody would read all that if they saw me scratching up the beloved Christopher Nolan Masterpiece.

But The Dark Knight is a perfect example of what you’re actually talking about.

The movie is awesome until the end.

It’s not hard to guess what I’m going to say. Harvey Dent is supposed to be a shining example of a good guy, and the goodness, that Gotham is capable of. The Goodness that will ultimately defeat Evil. And Evil is represented as Chaos.

Bruce sees that and that’s why he’s willing to give everything to make Harvey succeed as the hero Gotham needs. Because if Gotham sees that evil can be conquered by doing things the right way, the orderly way, that will get Gotham out of it’s “Justice is Broken, Vengeance is The Only Form of Justice” cycle.

Then there’s the Joker. He doesn’t believe there’s any such thing as Good—it’s all just Chaos (which is evil.) And his big mission is to prove it. It’s ironic that he twists Harvey’s sense of “justice” around to this viewpoint—where Harvey uses “chance” as just another form of “retribution.”

Anyway. All of that’s interesting.

But the movie both perpetuates a lie and does so by having the characters end believing a lie.

The lie it perpetuates is “The Joker is right, there’s no such thing as Justice or Good—it’s all just chaos, but pretending it’s not can get you through the day.”

That’s the lie it perpetuates!

And how does it do that?

By having the “city of Gotham,” and Bruce himself, believe a lie.

They believe Harvey Dent really was a good guy who died a hero. Bruce believes Rachel died still waiting for him, which symbolized her supposed belief in the good of Bruce and capability of Bruce to let it all go.

And why was it important that they believe those lies? Because the supposed truth is too harsh—that there’s no Good, it’s all Chaos. And if they believe that supposed truth, they’ll all turn out like Harvey or Joker. If Bruce believes Rachel chose Harvey, he’ll supposedly give up on something important in himself.

Okay but the problem with that is you have characters believing a lie because of a truth—that isn’t the truth. It’s the same problem with Streetcar.

The people of Gotham, the worst people of Gotham, aren’t always going to choose evil. There is such a thing as justice and good. And Harvey turning into Two-Face doesn’t change that. The movie could’ve shown that. It started to, with the prisoners on the second boat choosing not to kill the civilians to save themselves.

But it chose not to make that the point of the movie. It chose to make “The Joker was Right, Good is a Comforting Lie, & the Closest You’ll Ever Get to Justice is Vengeance & Chaos” the point of the movie. By having Batman convince the whole city to believe the comforting lie, what you’re saying is, Bruce believes that the truth won’t set Gotham free, only wrap it in chains.

That’s the problem with these movies.

And that’s why I think Captain America: The Winter Soldier licks The Dark Knight hollow every time, and is all-in-all a better movie, hands down. In this continued essay—