#starting a story is hard

[thatone-ranboofan996]

Must Be Something In The Water - Smile 2 Alternate Ending/Continuation

Chapter 1

The screams were deafening. Loud enough to drown out the blaring ringing feedback from the microphone.

The very same microphone that was now grotesquely smashed into Skye Riley’s face, the entire right half covered in blood and other unidentifiable flesh.

As the puddle of blood continued to grow around the now completely still pop star, the entire crowd abruptly surged backwards, as if just beginning to come out of a trance.

And then the true panic began.

It was a free for all, and every single person in the auditorium was scrambling, dashing, and dragging their ways past each other and through the sea of terrified concert goers in an attempt to escape the horrifying scene that had played out before them.

Not everyone was darting for the exits, however. There were still several people (whether it be the morbidly curious, or the devastated family and friends of Skye) that had stayed behind and were now instead rushing towards the stage towards the dead pop singer.

Elizabeth rushed forwards, her daughter’s name in her mouth as she screamed, immediately hopping over the small divider fence and immediately moving to climb up onto the stage where her child had been standing only moments ago. Back when all of her blood was still inside her body.

Elizabeth tore through the small crowd of security guards, police officers, a few concerned concert goers, backup dancers and a few friends of Skye’s.

“Move!!! Jesus MOVE!!” She screamed at them, her voice breaking as she approached her daughter’s still form.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the crowd parted enough that Elizabeth could rush through, and was immediately taken aback once she reached her.

Skye’s face (smeared with still-warm blood) was drawn in a tight smile, her one remaining eye completely empty.

Elizabeth froze, feeling as though her heart had just been shattered, ripped apart into tiny pieces, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

Before she could stop herself, she keeled over and vomited on the now bloodstained stage.

A strong, tough figure rushed to her side, kneeling beside her as the crowd closed once again, pushing Elizabeth to the outskirts. Several people were frantically calling 911, requesting for aid and medical attention.

Elizabeth knew better.

Her daughter, no matter how much she wanted her to be alive, was not there anymore.

She gagged again, and she felt a hand lightly touch her back, before a pair of arms tugged her to her feet and embraced her.

When had she started crying? She found she couldn’t tell.

And who was screaming like that?? Oh wait. That was also her.

Her hands found their way around the strong figure’s torso, hands latching onto the back of their shirt and squeezing.

The night moved like a blur.

One moment, there was a crowd on the stage, and she was in the middle of it, then she was sprinting out after a group of paramedics who were frantically trying to pack Skye’s wounds, injecting her with adrenaline, and performing CPR on her body. Elizabeth knew that it was a futile and hopeless attempt. Skye was gone, and she found that she could quite literally not process that thought.

The last thing she had said to her daughter was encouragement to smile. To get out there on the stage and have fun, relax, perform. Sing her heart out, and dance, and enjoy her life and her success.

A sudden realization dawned on Elizabeth as she was frantically climbing into the passenger seat of the escort vehicle.

Skye had begged her to not have to perform.

She had said she wasn’t ready. That she was scared and that she felt like she was going crazy.

And how did she react??

She had called her daughter a selfish spoiled brat.

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, another gut wrenching sob tearing its way from her throat as the van pulled away, quickly moving to catch up to the ambulance that carried her daughter.

“The sirens are still on,” the driver was saying in a panicked voice. “They only keep the lights and sirens on if there is a chance at survival. If they had declared her dead, the sirens would be off.”

“My baby…” she found herself sobbing, leaning into the arms of that same strong figure that she had held her moments ago on the stage. “My beautiful girl…” Glancing up with watery tear filled eyes, she found that it was Darius who was embracing her still.

She couldn’t make herself care enough to stop crying.

——•——-

A few yards away, within the ambulance that was still barreling its way through traffic on the way to the hospital, was a group of paramedics, all frantically trying to regain a pulse within the now flatlining pop star.

The woman on the table was small, much shorter than most, and inherently beautiful. All of them could see and knew it, but there was just something… off. About the way her face looked. Something about that horrible smile that had been stuck to the star’s face since she had struck herself with the microphone.

One paramedic clipped open the girl’s outfit, exposing the upper half of her chest. Another two were carefully and delicately removing the microphone from her face, and then trying to pack the wound full of antiseptic and gauze.

The third was preparing the defibrillators to shock life back into the lifeless girl.

“Hands off, everyone back!!!” The paramedic yelled, and immediately, everyone stepped away from her. “Clear!” He shouted, pressing the machines against her chest and causing her entire body to jolt with the electrical current. The flatline tone continued.

Everyone held their breath. This was it. If she didn’t regain a heartbeat after the third shock to the heart, she would be pronounced dead.

“Clear!!” The paramedic shouted once again, pressing the defibrillators back against her skin and causing her body to jump once again with the shock. The flatline droned on.

Two paramedics grabbed each others hands, squeezing them tightly.

“Come on now dammit!!” The paramedic shouted, charging the defibrillators one final time. “Clear!!” The man yelled, his voice brimming with desperation as he pressed the machines against her skin again. She convulsed once again, and the flatline continued.

Everyone went silent, everyone’s hearts heavy with the realization that there was no saving Skye Riley.

The famous pop star was dead. She was officially dead.

Everyone lowered their heads, two of the paramedics even allowing a few tears to stream down their cheeks.

“…Call it,” the lead paramedic said, and another looked down at his watch.

“Time of death: 7:24 pm, Octob-“

*beep.*

Everyone silenced immediately, all eyes flickering up to the heart monitor.

*beep.*

Another small beep echoed in the silent ambulance.

*beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.*

The machine let out a few small uneven beeps before finally regaining a rhythm once again, and slowly but surely picking up speed.

Every paramedic was silent before they all turned their eyes back towards each other, relief etched into all of their expressions.

“Oh Jesus Christ, it’s a miracle,” one of them mumbled with a soft laugh.

[foolnamedjoey]

Cheesy but I do not care

[seiwas]

cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry

bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.

there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.

but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.

your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.

the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.

he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?

heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—

he gulps.

it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—

(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)

the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).

it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.

he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.

bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.

you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.

"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.

as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.

as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.

as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.

his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.

you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.

“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.

your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.

he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.

but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.

he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.

there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.

your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.

then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.

he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.

five minutes, huh?

like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.

[devilry-revelry]

At the start of Veilguard, if you run with a female Rook, it’s girl squad right up until you recruit Lucanis.

Once he’s picked up, there is chatter about how Harding is a terrible cook, how Bellara is usually making meals, and there is almost immediately a grocery list posted in the kitchen, written by Lucanis.

Then he goes shopping for the ladies.

I know this can’t be a new take, but I love the idea of these ladies surviving off of girl dinner, and Lucanis is just… horrified.

Bellara just snuck in to the pantry to grab her fourth apple of the day.

Neve had a handful of almonds and coffee for dinner.

Harding just made… something that no one else could stomach. She barely even ate her portion before eating a stale heel of bread.

Rook was in the kitchen at midnight eating a cucumber, and only a cucumber. No oil, no vinegar, or salt, pepper. She didn’t even chop the damn thing up.

Fresh from the Ossuary, and immediately on a new job, Lucanis decides the best way to success is making sure the ladies of the Lighthouse are properly fueled to save the world. It starts with a grocery list, and a new house rule: everyone comes to dinner. No exceptions.

[inzuinzudesu]

A Christmas gift for @kawkawsrii! Happy holidays!

Bonus: they went to the grandline and will come back in part 2???? i hope so?????????

Bonus 2: cute ass lil shits whom i desperately wanted to put in but couldn't cuz i'm silly like that

[lilybug-02]

Wow. That could not have turned out worse.

Part 23 || First || Previous || Next

--Full Series--

This comic will be on Holiday Hiatus this December and January! While on a cliffhanger? What a scam! >:/

[lifeof-pink]

do you think part of the reason why dokja’s face is so unclear/censored throughout most of the story is because his self as the oldest dream (ie 15 year old him) cant imagine himself surviving to adulthood

[bruhstation]

you never change, do you

[bacchuschucklefuck]

okay unironically I love so much that porter is like this world SUCKS its BAD here and it HURTS you why do you care abt it!!! and literally every single bad kid is like ngl we just hate ur ass it does not matter what ur philosophy is

[thisisadonaldduckblognow]

all the rise boys get done dirty on characterization by fandom in different ways i think. (not ALL the time every fanwork etc etc these are just like, trends i tend to notice?) every fandom suffers from losing character nuance.

- leo i’ve talked about plenty on this blog, how some of his canon traits (genuine belief in his skill and cockiness, capacity for joy, his manipulativeness whether for good or ill) seem to get watered down or wiped off the board and supplemented with generic sad boy. his struggles with purpose and identity and not wanting to fail somehow morph into “he hates and completely holds no value for himself”

- donnie’s canon personality gets blurred out and largely replaced with whatever list of Neurodivergent Traits. and i think there’s such a fine line to walk between exploring a character that’s been word of god confirmed as on the spectrum and overwriting what’s canonically there. it’s a hard needle to thread. it also feels like a lot of his canon emotiveness gets left off the table for some reason. bc he does have his moments of flat/deadpan delivery, but a lot of the time he’s honestly very emotive. he has the passion of a theatre kid and the vindictiveness of... also a theatre kid. and the mind of a scientist.

- raph loses so much of his rowdy teen boy energy it’s kind of wild? like interpretations sand off that he’s also impulsive and can be reckless and dumb and LOVES fighting and roughhousing and isn’t the most eloquent person. suddenly there’s this pitch perfect soft boy big bro who would never hurt a fly and always says the exact right supportive thing and singlehandedly raised his 3 brothers (which simultaneously sands off all the nuance of splinter’s issues emotionally connecting with his sons and how that affected all of them). and like i LOVE raph, he’s so full of love and care and anxiety, he clearly has learned to put a lot of work into being aware of his strength and size. but there’s a difference you know?

- mikey is like. where raph gets overparentified by fanon, mikey gets over “family therapist”-ed IMO. the impulsiveness, the goofiness, the powerful emotions including a VERY powerful temper, the flat-out dumb teen boy choices... they get ignored. suddenly there’s this only very sweet and earnest boy who has read a hundred psychology books and runs group family therapy weekly or something. he is crying in his room bc leo and raph are arguing about something. which is so. he IS very sweet and can be very earnest and is full of love! he HAS come in with his opinions and unsolicited advice a couple of times and life coached for the greater good. but there’s a difference between what he does in canon and the role he gets in fanon.

[ri-afan]

So I learned Jason had an older brother named Danny and had the idea of Danny popping up in Crime Alley to help and gaining enough of a reputation as Phantom (unnamed) that Red Hood checks him out.

Red Hood questions the ghost, finds out he’s a ghost, is vaguely told his life after death, that not all ghosts remember things as living people would, and dos and don’ts of interactions. Phantom just wants to help!

Important, I need him to eventually say “I go by Phantom, but… you can call me Danny” and if it can be delayed into their meeting a bit and Red Hood picks up the previous info over time then all the better. Maybe Danny is a bit jaded after whatever made him move, maybe it’s just been a while since he’s talked to a human regularly, maybe he’s nervous about Red Hood’s relationship with Batman and Batman’s ties with the JL and the government—take your pick.

Now Red Hood doesn’t say too much on it, doesn’t show it a ton in his actions and stuff (he’s a former street kid who was bat-raised to be Robin after all) and definitely doesn’t voice his thoughts about it, but he totally thinks that Danny is the ghost of his dead brother.

He’s not though, he’s still Danny Fenton and in no way related to Jason. At most he’s only heard rumours of the guy, possibly from the dead who like Red Hood for avenging them and Danny’s nervous “because he’s Red Hood and he’s just Phantom”.

How long until this clears up? Eh. That’s up to you, but please let me know 😉

[amanitacurses]

First Meeting

[yupuffin]

I think the aspect of the 2.7 story that felt most impactful to me was something that was previously addressed in the Penacony main story, but was reemphasized and expanded upon with Sunday being the narrative focus of this update:

Sunday is scared.

His motivation to protect the people and things important to him -- Robin is an excellent example -- manifests as a desire for control, to eliminate potential dangers. This motivation is based in fear; he's afraid to lose what he has to factors beyond his control, like the bullet that nearly took his sister's life.

And part of the "true paradise" he longs for involves preventing the sense of powerlessness that accompanies that fear. He believes that humanity sleeps because "we are afraid to awaken from our dreams." Indeed, the appeal of the "sweet dream" of Penacony is freedom from the uncontrollable and inevitable tragedies of the waking world.

It's part of what made him such an effective villain in the Penacony arc; even though you may disagree vehemently with his actions, you can understand with and sympathize the rationale behind them. In his mind, absolute control over the Dreamscape -- the elimination of frightening unknowns -- is the most effective way to keep everyone safe and happy. However, this undermines the real freedom and autonomy of the affected populace, many of whom are unaware of the Dreamscape's true nature.

In the 2.7 update, Sunday is "nerfed after turning into a good guy," to use March's words. Previously, he enjoyed immense social status as the head of the Oak Family -- and as the imposing, invulnerable, "final boss"-style antagonist. Now, his role is effectively reversed; he's a fugitive who has to disguise himself to evade the potential consequences of simply being seen.

He's an incredibly vulnerable position.

Not just physically -- as the audience, we also get intimate insights into his feelings and thought processes. Now he recognizes the scope of the harm he was previously willing to cause in the name of absolute control, and shoulders the responsibility of dealing with the repercussions.

His newly evident guilt and shame is emotionally moving on its own...

...and becomes even more poignant when you realize that guilt and shame and vulnerability has been a crucial aspect of his character from the very beginning. After all, so much of his deep-seated fear of the unknown stemmed from him blaming himself -- his lack of control over the situation -- for Robin's unforeseen injury.

I found the scene at the Dream's Edge the most touching in this update. Sunday's conversation with Robin is a bit of a paradox: he is deeply sincere and vulnerable in speaking to his own sister, yet guarded because he must avoid revealing his true identity. And Robin, in turn, directly provides an alternate outlook on Sunday's character, describing him as though to someone who's never met him, as though he isn't there.

And Robin's perspective reaffirms that Sunday's apparent invulnerability was essentially a facade. He may have been the head of the Oak Family, and the imposing final boss, but at the same time, on the inside, he was continually paralyzed by fear.

Sunday has always been vulnerable. He has always been scared.

And I think what makes the conclusion to the 2.7 story so satisfying and triumphant is that Sunday begins to properly address his fear, his persistent guilt and shame. He moves beyond simply acknowledging it, and recognizes not just how indulging his fear can bring further harm, but also what good things (that otherwise wouldn't occur) can happen when he overcomes it -- as it were, when he doesn't let his fear control him.

I'm going to be real, I probably had an intelligent-sounding conclusion for this, but... it took me several weeks to write this and I've forgotten any idea i might have had previously, so let's just say he definitely hit me right in the feels. 🤣

[nadiajustbe]

I think the most beautiful thing about writing of Howl and Sophie's pair is that they are written as people before being written as a pair. Let me explain this very quick.

The thing about book Sophie and Howl is that they are not really fully fitting into any "classic" romantic trope. They are not exactly enemies to lovers, as their angry chats are definitely cannot be considered a life or death battle, they are not rivals to lovers because the only aspect of rivalry between them is the cleaningness of Howl's room. They are not friends to lovers, as their relationship just doesn't fit into "friendship" structure at the very start, nor they are roomates (yes, they live in the same house but that's not the core aspect of their relationships). Of course, you can go on and fit the name of the trope you found specifically for them, but that's the thing.

They simply cannot be processed through a pairings lenses only, in order to understand how they act in relationship you need to analyse them separately, as a characters first of all. Cause that's what the book itself does!

Sure, it doesn't have a whole lot of romance instead, but it gives us time to learn and observe the life of incredibly written, alive characters, understand them as personalities first of all, while slowly immersing the dynamic between two characters (in this case, Howl and Sophie) into work. They are written as personalities, both being fully separated and interviewing, changing eachother's point of view.

It's difficult to find a trope for them. They're are not a trope. They are Howl and Sophie, and that's probably the only way their dynamic can be properly described. Just as real people, they are not really fitting into the boxes of linial character progression, but go way deeper into being complex, filled with little differences and moments only people with their personality can have in romantic (or any different) kind of interaction. They're imperfect, and silly, and multidimensional and the reader knows them well enough to imagine them interacting way beyond of what the book says to them.

They are being people before being a ship, a pair of a trope — and that's why they work so perfectly charming in the end.

Howl and Sophie are unique in being themselves.

[lady-raziel]

hilarious that with each new day that passes a new bit of dirt from JD Vance's past gets discovered and plastered over the internet...it's almost as if this is why presidential campaigns have always announced their running mates well before the convention...so that if glaring issues with a candidate came to light quickly there would be time to replace them on the ticket before they were officially locked in...it's almost as if certain things in political campaigns were done for a reason, donald...because the very same critical failures had happened before...but no i'm sure you and your guys attempt to recreate a fantasy version of history while ignoring all the reasons that history was a disaster will work this time...because you are built different and the 10000th time trying fascism will work like a charm...

[juniemunie]

"Why am I still doing this?"

"Don't you get it?"

"This is all just a show... and we're playing parts~"