#the fact that we don't all look the same or WANT to look the same makes life interesting ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maxwell-grant · 2 days ago

Note

I think it’s interesting, considering how most live-action superhero adaptations kill off the villains after their debut, that both The Batman and The Penguin end with the villains not just living, but set up to return and somehow cause Even Bigger Problems down the line. Is this just because it’s the first Batman film adaptation that’s a capital-F Franchise, so the writers need the villains to stick around long-term, or is something else going on?

Almost entirely comes down to the fact that The Batman was not meant to be Batman's origin story - by Reeves' own admission, it was the origin story of the Rogues Gallery. They got the Cloverfield and Dawn of the Planet of the Apes guy and he did a story about the boots-on-the-ground gritty perspective on larger-than-life terrors emerging from the ruins and failings of human civilization, taking the struggles and wars and laborious processes that others shy away from and putting them front in center. It's just this time, instead of kaijus and parasites attacking and destroying the city, instead of apes emerging as the Mad Max warlords rising from the ashes to fight over the world, we have Batman villains in that role instead.

To me, that was actually the conception - if we weren't going to do a Batman origin story, but we were going to do it in the early years, I thought well, in the comics, the rogues gallery characters often are creating their alter egos in response to the fact that a masked vigilante shows up in Gotham called the Batman.

And so I thought, oh well, what we could do is see all of the rogue's gallery characters in their origins, like Selina Kyle before she's Catwoman, and that we could go into, as we're looking for a suspect, we could go to a nightclub, a nightclub could be the Iceberg Lounge and we could see a pre-kingpin Oz, and we could see, you know, a Riddler who is declaring himself the Riddler sort of because there's a Batman. And so all of that was sort of built into the conception. - Matt Reeves

It's far from the first Batman film adaptation to be a capital-F Franchise, even if that aspect was there - Reeves initially pitched the movie as an HBO series, and throughout production pitched additional show ideas such as an Arkham show or a Gotham PD show, The Penguin being the only one that survived as far as we know. This pulls off an origin from the Rogues Gallery better than every other Batman media ever made, and there's a couple of reasons why it does so and why the villains get to take center stage here:

Part of the difference between the way Nolan tackled realistic Batman, and the way Reeves tackles realistic Batman, is that Nolan needs realism to explain Batman, and Reeves needs realism entirely in the service of making Batman weirder. Pattison Batman is the weirdest Bruce ever put on film almost entirely because he lives in our world while still being Batman in every way that counts - Keaton Bats slept upside down in a cave, but he lived in a Tim Burton world. Adam West Bats is weird, but everybody is like that or even weirder than he is, he is the comedic straightman to everyone else. And where as Nolan needs Batman to be the thing that makes sense, Reeves needs Batman to be the thing that doesn’t make sense.

Nolan wanted weird difficult irreducible villains opposite a logical pragmatically sensible Batman, and Reeves wants exactly the opposite. For Nolan, even besides the Joker who was defined entirely around the lack of a real explanation for him, you have his take on Two-Face, Bane, the Al Ghuls, characters that don't demand that much reasoning or explanation because they can act and exist in ways that defy logic, while Batman's the guy who has to hold the center of logic and reason. Where as here, Pattison Batman is the most interesting and complicated and larger-than-life figure this world is dealing with in much the same way that Ledger Joker was for his movie, and everyone else is in the position of starting out and having to deal with Batman and the paradigm shift he brings - nobody else in the movie is quite the character they were supposed to be, that's something they're all growing into in response to their nightmare city and what this titanic freak in armor represents to them.

Even The Riddler is ultimately explainable, human, reducible to his tantrums and vulnerabilities, even without you knowing in-depth his character and backstory that would be elaborated for Dano's Year One. Even The Penguin - he may be larger-than-life, he may be unexplainable on some level, but we know all too well all of his failings and feelings and life story and all the cracks in his persona that he killed Victor to try and bury. But Batman? Next to everyone else, he is still an anomaly, he is just Like That, even to his own detriment and that of the city, and he learns that he must apply being Like That to something better.

Reeves is not interested in doing "Batman vs [X]" movies, the movies are going to be focused on Batman's arc first and foremost, which means the villains will never really take them over the way they've usually done - this is a world where it's the villains who react to Batman, not the other way around. This frees them from the burden of having to exist in direct relation to how much they can directly menace Batman, and it makes it so that these are characters that can carry their own spin-offs, which is probably a lot easier for WB to work with because these are spin-offs that they don't really have to get Pattison to show up for, but they can construct in ways that don't even need Batman to be physically there. Even after The Penguin, they might not have to do that Smallville/Gotham song-and-dance of teasing a main character who'll never get to be here, there are a lot of other things happening in Reeves' Gotham besides the existence of Batman, even if the existence of Batman has changed all of them. So structurally speaking this series has a ton of room for reocurring villains, and building it has been one of their top priorities. In fact, this ONLY gets to do so because the movie already laid out the entire groundwork for them and how it all ties together.

See, the way Batman stories do the rise of a Rogues Gallery and how it affects the city and therefore Batman always follows a sort of a 7-step program:

Gotham City is ruled by crime, crime that takes away the Waynes (Falcone / Carl Grissom (89) / Falcone backed by the League (Nolan) / the Falcone-Hill-Wayne triumvirate (Telltale) / Gotham S1 and first-half of S2)

Crime begats Batman, who beats Crime

Crime + Batman = Weird Crime (Jack Napier becomes Joker after an encounter with Batman (89) / "we still haven't picked up Crane and those other Arkham inmates btw check out this weird card" (Nolan) / Black Mask and the international assassins + Joker's rise (Arkham) / Children of Arkham (Telltale) / the Indian Hill experiments and patients (Gotham)

Weird Crime Replaces Crime (The Long Halloween / Joker takes over the mob (89) / the mob is so impressed by the pencil trick they give Joker all the money (Nolan) / Joker literally replaces Black Mask in the process of becoming Batman's main enemy (Arkham) / Penguin assassinates Mayor Hill and the Children enter a war with Mayor Dent (Telltale) / Indian Hill breakout and Maniax cult and etc (Gotham)

Weird Crime is a Rogues Gallery now (Penguin and Catwoman and Max Shreck in the sequel (Burton) / Joker and Two-Face become separate problems, Bane + Talia + Crane + Catwoman in the sequel (Nolan) / after Origins a whole asylum full of them (Arkham) / Riddler + The Pact and John becoming Joker proper (Telltale) / Gotham S3 with Tetch and Riddler and the Legion of Horribles

The city is changed by the new paradigm

Batman responds / expands or retracts in response to this change

(4 and 5 don't necessarily always happen one before the other, mind you, frequently you do have a Weird Crime Rogues Gallery before Weird Crime replaces Crime at the head of the table)

And you can apply this to most other Batman stories that don't automatically start and stay at level 5. But where as all of these have to stretch the process across sequels and continuations, The Batman is the first Batman work that gets to do all 7 of them in one row. It gets 1 and 2 done offscreen before the opening act and shown to us how they happened throughout the movie's reveals, 3-4-5-6 comprise the Riddler's plot + the other United Underworld members roped into it, and it ends with 7. Even the Batmanless spin-offs follow the process: The Riddler: Year One covers Eddie's perspective on 1-2 as he enters stage 3 and prepares it for the movie, and The Penguin covers 4-5-6, leaving us waiting for Bruce's response back to stage 7 where The Batman ended.

And up until The Batman, the process behind the creation of a Rogues Gallery had never really been much of a process - comics that go into the transition like Long Halloween/Dark Victory just show the fall of Carmine Falcone -> the freaks waiting in the wings causing it or happening immediately after. Gotham tries to work that escalation gradually and it starts relatively "normal", but it's always dancing around the premise and the central black hole and the building blocks don't have anything to do with each other - the gang wars and Penguin have nothing to do with Bruce investigating a conspiracy, which has little to do with Gordon and Bullock investigating weird serial killers who keep escalating, and then eventually we get that Hugo Strange was building freaks in his basement at the orders of the Court/Ra's the whole time until they all just escape. You can piece together how Batman works that aren't about this transition ultimately touch on most of those 7 stages and have their own version of it as soon as they introduce Gotham City in a pre-Batman/pre-villain state, but the connections are always rather tenuous and not necessarily connected to each other (and it's fine, y'know, not everything in a story always has to come from the same source).

But everything in The Batman follows a long chain of dominos that had to happen for this system to become the way it needs to be for Batman villains to emerge. Everything started in that one night Thomas Waynes saved Carmine Falcone, everything started from that ensuing connection and Thomas' failures leading to a city ruled by mobsters for 20 years and the sheer level of rot and corruption and human misery that creates and justifies the existence of Batman, and thus The Riddler in his example. Everything we get in The Penguin is the result of this paradigm shift and total civic collapse, showing the destruction of Carmine's empire as well as his legacies torched and mutated by Sofia and Oz respectively. Everything is still connected. The United Underworld guys featured in the movie live and dwell in entirely separate spaces and represent entirely different things, and they're still all connected in the same chain of dominoes, which allows them to expand and cover entirely separate narrative real estate while still giving it all cohesion.

The movie never has to specifically establish a system full of supervillains or made for them, it has to establish a system so utterly fucked and dominated by Falcone, so utterly failed by every institution and body of government and system imaginable, that it creates Batman, and the minute Batman arrives and survives long enough to be a third power / a fifth state, people in his wake trying to respond to him or do the same things he does, as a response to the same afflictions he faced and to his example or influence, are the only logical thing. Without needing to literally show the other rogues waiting in the wings, The Batman established an entire world of possibility just by very smartly using the 4 big ones + Carmine and showing why and how this regular American city becomes a place where supervillains bombing city blocks and running for political office can become a facet of daily life. Joker, Penguin, Catwoman and Riddler - positioned as separate from each other as possible to show the ways in which this is, and maybe always has been, spreading fast out of Batman's control.

And now with The Penguin, reinforcing the chokehold of crime in the city in it's old ways as well as the corrupt mutated new ones brought on by our boy, as well as a new Batman Villain (possibly two, if Eve Karlo ever gets her hands on suspicious make-up) arriving from Penguin's side of things so that it's not just Batman who has a Rogues Gallery to deal with, not just Batman who has terrific enemies waiting in the wings for a chance to enact their own forms of justice and revenge, no, that's just what life is like in Gotham now, forever.

#replies tag #dc comics #batman #the penguin #the penguin hbo #matt reeves #lauren lefranc #the batman

106 notes · View notes

raayllum · 1 day ago

Text

Trailer Breakdown time

Important notice: There will be spoilers from 7x01 mentioned as well from NYCC as well as screencaps that were previously released. Read ahead at your own risk!

So what a trailer am I right?

For this meta I'm gonna divide into sections in terms of episode order (largely 7x01, 7x02, and speculation to the mid season point) and then also talk about voice overs / clip placement from previous seasons when I think it's relevant. Let's go!

What we know

These shots of Callum and then Ezran and co. touching down in Katolis, as well as the vision Ezran has of his parents (which the fact he's seeing like that rather than how they actually were, sitting on the thrones side by side, is life ruining let me tell you) are all from 7x01, "Death Alive".

We know thanks to 7x01 that Runaan is arrested and everyone goes to the Banther Lodge to set up a temporary camp / plan their next moves, hence a makeshift council meeting (which Ezran having the throne brought with him... baby boy really isn't doing well). So it seems the following screencaps are all from 7x02.

We can also place this Callum and Rayla handhold at the Banther Lodge by the bridge outside.

They are probably (for whatever reason) conspiring/deciding to free Runaan and leave, leading to this scene with matching sky / colours - Soren and Rayla squaring off before Ezran arrives with more guards.

He might let them go or try to hold on, but they successfully flee / get away. I could also see Rayla and/or Runaan stepping in like "I'll stay behind, you go to the Silvergrove" (and if Rayla offers, that might melt Ezran enough to let them leave). Either way, I think Ezran's conversation with Aanya on the Banther Lodge bridge will either influence the choice(s) he makes here if it's before, or reference this crossroads if it comes after before we leave the Banther Lodge for the season.

We also know from 7x01 that Aaravos wants a Moon primal stone and to likely corrupt the Moon Nexus in order to invert life and death, destroy the Cosmic Order, and bring about eternal night. It seems likely Claudia and human Aaravos will achieve these aims by the mid-season point-ish. After 7x01 they have to go to the Puzzle House to get the map to the Garden of Innocence with unicorns, and they will likely require Terry's Pure Heart (my interview with Aaron Ehasz) to read the map to get them there. If 7x02 is "pure heart" that could be a nice parallel between Callum-Rayla and Terry-Claudia about a willingness (or lack of) to help and why.

From there, it's all speculation, so let's get into it.

What we can speculate

So first things first, we get Claudia and Human Aaravos at the Moon Nexus doing the Nexus inversion, presumably, and bringing people / creatures back from the dead. One looks rather like Ziard and brings up a staff, which Aaravos takes.

We also know this is earlier on in the season because Claudia's har is more white. During the spell, we also see Soren, Terry, Allen, and what seems to be Aanya holding a dead / unconcious Lujanne on the ground. It seems both Soren and Terry are running to stop her, though I don't know what Allen is doing (maybe holding back Ezran for some reason, if Ez is there).

Then we have more of the dead coming out, including a dragon that almost squashes Soren but does not have a rider, so it's not the same (assumedly) as before.

Later on, we see more creatures crawling out of the water at what seems to be the Nexus, since it's bordered by the same walls as the lake.

We also see Aanya and Ezran surrounded by the dead at the Valley of Graves (hi Sol Regem skeleton), but the moon doesn't look as... corrupted / taken as it does at the Nexus shot, so this could be happening in the early stages of the spell. Then Ezran could send Soren, who gets there too late, and who knows how fast Aaravos can travel on his own.

There seems to be some kind of confrontation between Ez, Aanya (hi exploding fire arrows), and Aaravos at the Valley of the Graves either way.

Since like I said the Moon isn't in the right spot, I'd wager the Ez-Aanya fight here is from 7x03 or 7x04, with the Moon Nexus inversion in 7x04 or 7x05. In the same timeframe, Rayla (and Runaan + Callum?) is going back to the Silvergrove and being put on trial.

The little tiny mushrooms here and in the section with her and one of the fallen assassins makes me think that rather than just standing around and talking, there could be an underwater dream-like portion to the trial as well. Something like "You touch the assassin and get blood on your hands (literally)" because they love their on-the-nose symbolism.

So I don't think the screenshots here are Rayla getting injured... Yet.

Now onto the harder to speculate sections, or what I like to call

What the Fuck is Going On

It seems, since Callum and Ezran learn that, "Aaravos is back. He wants to bring about eternal night. He's unleashed the spirits of the dead" (Callum) that the kids regroup and plan for what to do next. This could be 7x05 or 7x06. The trio (broyals / Rayla and Ezran) reconcile maybe from the Runaan fall out, with Ezran asserting that, "We have to be ready. We have to build our defences." (This could also be where Callum's line as a "the three of us have been through a lot together. We'll get through this, too" comes in as a parting goodbye before the group splits, as well as Callum's heroic rallying speech that is very reminiscent of 3x08: "There is a way out of this. With good people doing courageous things. Doing what's right!").

This "building our defences" could mean that the trio splits up to go get allies from prior seasons, like Rex Igneous (Ezran and co. shot) and Akiyu. They could also be fetching sun crystals for Aanya's arrows.

We see Callum defending an unconscious Akiyu (by the water) and Runaan (just under his tunic flare). His ice spell seemingly responds to Claudia's fire spell, and she has more white hair and is standing likewise near water. So it seems we'll get a Callum Claudia duel face off sometime in the mid to late season!

It also seems that Claudia's Laurelion dragon-scale necklace is just a dragon-scale, but gives her the super armour / fire power-up.

At some point we also meet up with the Sunfire elves, not just at their ruins / make-shift camp, but at the Sunforge palace itself, since Khessa's throne is in the background in these shots with Rayla. The purple background and Phyrrah also indicates that Soren and Corvus are in the same area.

Presumably, they've gathered all their allies (end of 7x08?) and are preparing for their final attempt to defeat Aaravos (and free Callum?). And Callum is going to get possessed, so when do we think it's happening?

Well, if the gang is travelling to get allies, Callum (and Rayla - and maybe Ezran or others?) have gone to get Zubeia perhaps from the mushroom mage. While there, shit goes down, and we get this shot of Callum (presumably from 7x06-7x07):

While the cube is angled the way it was in Callum's dark magic dreams, I don't think this is a dream. The background doesn't match up with previous, we've never seen this form of corrupted face for him with his eyes not black, and he has a white streak, which was never present when dreaming of himself as Aaravos' puppet last season.

I also don't think Callum is going to do dark magic to coin Aaravos (at least not for the initial corruption). Not only is it a little wonky pacing wise, it's a bit too clean, as it takes away the #1 threat Callum is scared of when it comes to doing dark magic. While he of course doesn't want to be corrupted at all, it was primarily the fact the corruption would make him Aaravos' puppet that scared him. It's also a bit too thematically contradictory for Aaravos to be successfully defeated in a 'bad way' rather than in a good way (teamwork, etc) nor does it work with the 6x03 set up for him and Rayla, but that's just me.

That all said, the fact that the trailer highlights his parallels to Viren and Claudia not just once, but twice (god bless that "however dangerous, however vile" and another "I would do anything for you") and through Kosmo's 6x06 voice over ("If you ever do dark magic again, the darkness and corruption will overwhelm you") makes it pretty clear that even if it hasn't happened here, it will happen in the season eventually. I don't think i have much to say on this plot beat / characterization that I haven't been saying for, well, the past 4 years, cause if you know, you know! (And I'll probably do a post just screaming about this + the cube later anyway.)

We also have some misc screencaps that could go about anywhere (Terry running, him + Aaravos and Claudia in the woods with the flying primal stone? Seeker or guider?) even if I do think they continually point towards Terry defecting this season.

Conclusion

If I missed any screencaps or you have any questions feel free to send them my way in my askbox! What do you think is going to happen and what are you most excited for this season?

#tdp #tdp spoilers #the dragon prince #trailer #giveusthesaga #s7 speculation #predictions #s7 #s7 spoilers #arc 2 #analysis series #analysis

108 notes · View notes

javierpena-inatacvest · 9 hours ago

Text

Chapter 5- Miles Between Us

Summary: Frankie's decision to join the Army was the catalyst in the collapse of your friendship. When he's forced to reconcile with his past, packed away in boxes in his childhood basement, he finds pieces of you in everything he's left behind.

Word Count: 5.0K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, lying, guilt, military deployment, FEELINGS, Frankie's mom not putting up with his shit

A/N: IT'S TIME TO PEEL BACK ANOTHER LAYER OF THE ONION, BABY!!! I hope you guys don't hate me that this is a slow burn- I know this is not how I normally write at all, but it's been really fun to build this story up bit by bit (if you hate it though, please tell me lmao 💀) I'm excited for this chapter and how it hints at next chapter (we're finally getting to some smut y'all, omg) Thank you as always for your kind words, it makes my day to hear what you have to say about these two 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Age 17, Spring of 2006

“You’re late, Morales.”

“Can’t be late to something we don’t have a set time for, Anderson.”

It’s true, you and Frankie have never set an official schedule for your afterschool ritual, but it never seems to fail that at 3:45, only 10 minutes after you’ve gotten home from soccer practice, he’s at the foot of your bed with his forest green Jansport backpack, ready to complain about the homework he doesn’t want to finish and the tests he has no interest in studying for, just so he can keep you company while you stress yourself to death about the same assignments.

And for as much as he hated school work, Frankie was never late. Never. So to watch him mope into your bedroom an hour later than his usual arrival time, it almost would have been safer to assume he was dead than anything else.

“What took you so long? Get lost on the way here?” You joke, trying to keep it light while still prodding for an answer about his absence as you write down the answer to the math equation you’re trying to solve.

“No. Don’t worry about it.”

There’s been very few occasions you’ve seen Frankie so stoic. Even on his worst days, he’s at least still got a little tolerance left in him for your stupid banter. It’s enough to draw your attention completely away from your homework and onto him.

“What’s wrong? Why are you being so weird?”

You can tell then that something’s clearly not right, the way he’s angrily yanking loose papers and textbooks from his backpack and nearly slamming them onto the edge of your bed, making you gnaw anxiously at the end of your pencil you’d been using.

You’re too nosy for your own good to let up until you find what you’re looking for.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Well obviously something’s wrong.”

“What? I’m not allowed to be late, ever?”

“No? Frankie, I just asked where you were and you’re acting like I’m asking you if you just shot the fucking president or something. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, MacKenzie!”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you so upset about it?”

“I’m not upset!”

“You clearly are? Frankie, what the hell are you-”

“I’m joining the Army, okay?!”

Out of all the things you could have expected to come out of Frankie’s mouth, that would have been at the bottom of your list. In fact, it’s so out of left field, you’re not even quite sure you believe him.

Your forehead hurts from how tightly your brows are knitted together in confusion, scowling at Frankie with a dumbfounded intensity that probably had you looking like you had just gotten an unsuspecting whiff of the world’s most sour lemon.

There’s no way he’s being serious. He can’t be.

“Ha ha, very funny, Francisco.” You mock, frown still splayed across your face, “Now will you please tell me what’s actually going on?”

His silence makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You can feel the way your face falls, the muscles once tensed in adamant skepticism now sinking into a quiet panic. You can hear each breath as it flows in through your nose and out through your mouth, blood pounding louder and louder in your ears with each pulse of your veins.

“Frankie, if this is one of your stupid jokes, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke.”

His eyes are still peeled to the floor, too afraid to bring himself to look at you. All he can do is stare at his pinky toe, poking out of the hole in his socks that he refuses to replace. You wait for what feels like hours, days, for him to say something, but his silence is deafening. And the sound of Frankie’s silence is the scariest thing you’ve heard in a very long time.

It’s so terrifying, the only thing you can do to cope is fill the quiet void with your rambling and pray that Frankie Morales is choosing to play the world’s worst joke on you.

“What- what do you mean? Frankie, I thought- When you and Santi talked about doing the same thing as Will- I thought you were fucking kidding? What about college? We already both got accepted to Florida State, what are you gonna do-”

“I didn’t get in.”

Please let him be kidding. Please, please, let this be a sick joke.

You can feel your confusion starting to bubble into anger, jaw clenching at the way Frankie’s too coward to even look in your general direction, gaze still glued to that stupid fucking hole in his worn down sock.

“Frankie, what the fuck? We both got accepted back in January? You’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?”

“I didn’t wanna lie, okay?!”

He’s riddled with enough guilt to speak up, trying to keep himself from the brink of tears as he works up enough courage to finally look you in the face. You can hear how hard he gulps, like his heart is bobbing in his throat, trying to buy all the time he can to come up with a reason for his deception that won’t hurt you any more than he already has.

“I just- fuck,” he sighs, chewing at his bottom and bouncing his leg against the bed so intensely it’ll make him sore the next day, “I didn’t know what to do, Kenz. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

It’s hard to stay mad at him when you know he means it. It’d be easier if it weren’t for the way his brown eyes flooded with disappointment in himself, spilling out in tears onto his cheeks. For as frustrated as you are, you have enough sympathy to ease up on him enough to at least try to understand.

“Well, not lying to me about it for the last four months probably would have been a good start.” You huff, the air that puffs from your nostrils still tainted with the let down you’re trying so hard to not let override your conversation.

You can’t help but let yourself find a spot next to him on the edge of your bed, a peace offering that you hope is enough to signal to him you’re willing to listen to what he has to say.

“I- I didn’t think you were being serious when you and Santi were talking about it. I- I thought you- I thought the plan was to go to Florida State. Together. What happened, Frankie?”

It’s quiet for a few more moments. Frankie takes a few, slow deep breaths as he runs his hands through the curls twisting at the nape of his neck. The silence isn’t as bitter as before, but it stings enough to gnaw at the edges of your nails, the anxious habit you can’t seem to break, and certainly have no intention of giving up right now.

“Stop chewing at your nails, Kenz. You’re gonna be pissed at yourself later.” Frankie sighs, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from your mouth, trying to fulfill his duty of being the one to stop you from ripping your nail beds to shreds.

“You’re kinda making it hard not to.” You try your best to attempt a laugh. It’s the only way to keep yourself from crying. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or what?”

“Y-yeah.” Frankie re-adjusts himself on the edge of the bed, twisting the fabric of your comforter between his fingers, trying to ground himself in the reality of the truth he’s forced to tell you, “I- I didn’t get into Florida State. I told you I did because I didn’t know what I was gonna do. You were just so excited when you thought we both got in and I- I panicked and I lied. I didn’t even think I was gonna get in anyways. I didn’t think I was gonna get in anywhere. Even if I did, I don’t know if I even could have afforded it. It’s just me and my mom and neither of us-”

“It’s not too late. I can help you look for scholarships. To help you with tuition. I’m sure that there’s a bunch out there that you could apply for. I’ll even write your essays and stuff for you if you want me to-”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t do that, Kenz. Plus, you hate cheaters.”

Frankie tries to reciprocate the same half-assed laugh you gave him. He looks over at you, the small smile he’s forcing to keep between his lips quickly fading as he sees the way you’re pleading with him to realize that you would forge a thousand essays in his name if it meant he wasn’t going to leave you. He’d be a cheater you’d gladly forgive.

“It’s not even just the money. I just- I- I don’t even like school, Kenzie. I suck at it. If school is already hard now, how much harder is it gonna be when I get to college? To study for a job that I’m probably not even gonna want when I graduate? At least with the Army I can have a job and benefits and hopefully make enough money to help my mom so she’s not working at the hospital 6 days a week. MacKenzie, the only reason I applied to Florida State was because of you. I thought that maybe there would be some miracle I got in and I could figure out how to pay for it and I could magically get smarter and better at school so we could spend the next four years together. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to happen so bad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I lied to you. I just- fuck- I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Neither of you are quite sure what to say next. That quiet comes back to fill the space between you, allowing enough room for the silent sobs you’re both trying your best to hold in, small sniffles still escaping from each of you. You’re not sure if your brain has fully processed what he’s had to say. The only thing you can understand is the swirling of sadness and confusion in your gut and the pounding ache in your chest.

You take a scooch closer to him, the outsides of your thighs barely brushing together as you tilt your head to rest against his shoulder. It’s heavy, the weight you can’t help but lean against him, but the arm he wraps behind your back and around your waist tells you that he’ll gladly take it. He’ll take it all, if he has to.

“Did you already sign a contract to go?” The whisper of your words is so soft, like you’re hoping he can’t hear you. If he can’t hear you, then he doesn’t have to tell you the answer you don’t want to hear.

“Yeah. Me and Santi did a few weeks ago.” His voice is almost quieter than yours, convinced he has the same idea as you.

His truth stings worse than the lie he’s been masquerading behind the past four months. You want to scream at him- To curse him with shouts and sobs, question how he could make this choice for himself and leave you in the dark until it’s too late for you to change his mind. You know it’s selfish, the way you want him to stay, the way you would have fought with every bone in your body to keep him from leaving. You know it’s the reason Frankie couldn’t tell you.

It’s the same reason why Frankie couldn’t bring himself to tell you that if he had given you that chance, he probably would have stayed.

“Do um- do you know when you have to leave?”

It hurts to hear the words come out of your mouth. It’s an admittance of defeat. Because once you ask that question, there’s nothing you can do or say that will make him stay. No fighting, no begging, no pleading. You have to accept he’s leaving.

“Not ‘til the end of the summer.”

“Where?”

The more you ask, the more it makes you want to keel over the edge of the bed and vomit, the reality of it all setting in at an alarming pace.

“Missouri for basic training. I don’t know where after.”

He doesn’t have to say where. You both know. Even if he doesn’t know the exact longitude and latitude of where the Army will deploy him, there’s nowhere else they’re sending him besides Iraq or Afghanistan or whatever godforsaken, war ridden country in the Middle East he’ll be forced to put his life on the line for.

And for how much the reality of Frankie leaving scares you, when you’re hit with the reality that Frankie may leave and never come back, you’re absolutely terrified.

“I don’t want you to go, Frankie.”

You can’t beg him to stay. There’s no amount of bargaining you can do with him or the powers that be to change what’s been done. All you can do is tell him your truth as you sob into his chest while he holds you. Maybe if you’re not enough to make him stay, you’re at least enough to make him want to come home.

You’re not sure how long he holds you while you cry. Maybe it’s minutes, maybe it’s hours. However long it is, all the moments you have left with Frankie feel that much more precious. You won’t let any of them slip through your fingers.

“You promise you’ll come home, right?”

“I promise, MacKenzie. I promise.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Francisco Morales, it’s that he’ll never break a promise. You just hope the universe is kind enough to let him keep this one, too.

“I promise that we’ll have a really fun summer together before I leave too, okay? Whatever you wanna do, Kenz, I’ll do it.”

“Anything?”

It’s enough to peek your head out from the crook of his neck, trying your best to wipe away your tears with your sleeve, like you hadn’t just stained the better part of Frankie’s sweatshirt with the same wetness.

“Anything.”

“Alright, well, I guess we’re gonna go to Dairy Queen and get an extra large blizzard every day until you’re too fat for the Army to want you anymore.”

The two of you giggle, a quiet symphony of soft snorts and sobs at the idea of rolling an ice cream filled Frankie off to boot camp. It makes him laugh even harder that he wouldn’t put it past you if you really did try. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if you did.

“Whatever you want, MacKenzie. I’m all yours.”

Frankie, Present

Frankie’s convinced he might as well start training for a marathon at this point.

He’s not really sure how else to spend his time. It’s hard to keep himself occupied when all he can do at home is sit around and wait for your dad to die or stare out the window like a creep to watch your comings and goings.

At least if he’s running, he can’t think about you.

Well, he can’t think about you as much.

It’s been a day and a half since he decided to follow you on your run. He’s already pushed his luck enough that you didn’t damn near kill him for it, let alone that you even gave him a chance to talk to him.

He let you take the first shift on the morning yesterday, despite the fact he’d been awake well before the sun rose. The irony wasn’t lost on him at the way he watched you through his bedroom window the same way he did most Saturday and Sunday mornings for the first few years of your friendship. You’d be up at the same ungodly hour as him, except you’d be pacing up and down your driveway, stretching and lunging across its length as you clicked around on the iPod wrapped around your forearm, searching for whatever song would pump you up for your run.

It wasn’t until you had finally noticed Frankie peering out his bedroom window every weekend that you began to drag him along on your runs with you.

“If you’re awake too, you might as well come running with me, Morales. It’ll be fun!”

“Fine. I gotta warn you though, Kenz, I am actually pretty fast.”

“You barely run the mile in gym class.”

“Savin’ up all my energy for when I need it most, Anderson.”

There was once a time where you would have to beg Frankie to come with you on a run. Now, he’d give anything for you to tolerate his existence ten feet behind you.

But he’ll sacrifice another run alone through all too familiar roads of his childhood subdivision if it helps him kill time and keeps you from hating him anymore than you rightfully deserve to.

Yesterday, he went on two runs to pass the time. Hell, today, he’d consider adding a third run to his underwhelming schedule just to keep himself busy. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, he can’t tell yet) for him, Maria Morales has other plans.

And when Maria Morales has plans, it’s in Frankie’s best interest to drop anything else he had in mind for the day.

Even when it means he’s got a hot date with his basement and a mountain full of boxes in his basement.

“Okay, anything in this pile to the left is for you to go through.” His mom grunts, lifting up one last box to add to the heap labeled “Francisco’s things” in her perfectly curved cursive, “If you want to take it home, find an empty box to put it in, but not my new clear, plastic bins, entiendes (understand)? Those were expensive.”

“No clear plastic bins, got it.” Frankie chuckles, following the exaggerated step his mother takes over his scattered belongings.

“If you see something and you don’t want it now but you want me to keep it for later, you can put it over on the shelf by the stairs. If you think it’s basura (trash), leave it over here and let me look at it first before you throw it away.”

“Comprendido (got it).” Frankie nods, sizing up the stack his mom has set out for him, “Jesus ma, this is gonna take me all morning to go through.”

“If you were home more, there would be less things to go through now.”

“Yeah, well, you got me there.” Frankie grumbles under his breath, grimacing at the harsh reality of his mom’s words. He knows isn’t meant completely out of malice, but he can’t deny it’s certainly got some truth to it as well.

“Okay, well I need to go run some errands, and I want this pile sorted by the end of the day, so standing here and moping certainly isn’t going to help that. Get to work, mijo (son).”

His mom will never be one to throw a pity party for anyone, and most definitely won’t be throwing one for her son, based on his own, self-inflicted problem. Frankie helps her step over another makeshift pile scattered for sorting across the basement floor, giving him a quick pat on the back before disappearing upstairs, leaving him to quite literally unpack his past.

“Fuck. Okay.” He sighs to himself, gently kicking one of the edges of flimsy cardboard at the bottom of the tower, trying to formulate his best plan of attack to make his sorting as painless as possible.

He’s thankful that his brain has always worked in a way that allows him to analyze things so quickly, doing some quiet calculations in his head as to the most effective and efficient way to sort through god knows what may be hidden in the pile his mom has created for him.

He runs his hand through the still messy curls of his morning bed head before selecting what feels like the lightest boxes and moving them off to the side, opening up a cardboard container from the next layer.

Besides the trophies still in his room, every prize he’d ever won for every sport he’d ever played sits in the box below him. Frankie chuckles to himself, picking up some from the top to examine them, thumb gliding over the fake gold plating to read plaques like “Florida Junior Divisional Freestyle Swimming Finalist- 2005” or “Regional Championship Winners- Florida Firebirds 2007” glued to poorly sculpted plastic statues of swimmers. A few more medals and certificates had sunk to the bottom of the box, Frankie quickly grazing through its contents before rehoming it to the “trash” pile, unsure of when he would ever need proof he won several swimming competitions in high school.

The next few boxes were more of the same- His varsity jacket, old t-shirts he wouldn’t stand a chance fitting into, considering the gangly figure that stretched them more than a decade ago, some old books from high school he’d only kept because of how much you loved them and he promised you that one day, he’d read them, too.

It’s the shoe box that catches his eye next, sure that no matter how much his mom loved to hoard, whatever was in there most definitely was not a raggedy, holy pair of Converse from high school.

It’s not until he picks up the box that he knows exactly what’s inside. It’s one of the lightest things he’s picked up in the last hour, but when he knows the weight of its contents, his arms want to tremble.

It’s with a long deep breath that he brings the shoebox over to an open patch of floor, letting out a grunt and cursing his knees as he sits down cross legged with the box in front of him. He gently flips open the lid, hand running over his face and down the back of his neck when his suspicions are confirmed.

Open envelopes spill out over the edges of the worn cardboard, the box stuffed to the brim with every letter you’d ever written to him while he was away.

Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure he could ever physically bring himself to throw them out. Those letters have more miles on them than most people’s cars will ever reach in a lifetime, flimsy, stamped pieces of paper following him to every corner of the globe he’s traveled to.

Some letters he’s read so much, they’re worn on the edges where he’s held the paper, smudging the pen that’s reached the sides of the pages. Others, he’s only read once. He’s not sure he could ever bring himself to read them again. But regardless of their contents, he’d made a promise to you they’d stay with him.

“Better not get rid of those letters, Morales. Do you know how many hand cramps I’ve given myself trying to find the words to send halfway across the world to you? You better promise me you’ll keep ‘em.”

His commitment to the folded pieces of paper ring in his ears as his fingers drag across the tops of the open envelopes. He can’t help the way his index finger and thumb pinch the paper below his grasp, carefully tugging a random letter out of its shoebox storage.

It’s a gut wrenching gamble, the game he’s about to play, a roulette of making his heart ache from joy or pain depending on the one he chooses to pull. He’s already placed his bet as he pulls the lined piece of paper out of the envelope- He’s not getting the money he’s already placed on the table back, so he might as well pray he makes a return on his investment.

With one more deep breath, he unfolds the tri-fold creases, ready to watch his bet play out before him.

August 18th, 2006

Frankie,

I hope I sent this letter to the right place! I looked on the website and it said to send mail to new recruits (that’s you, Morales), to this address, so no one better be holding my letter to you hostage.

Anyways, how’s training so far? Did they make you shave your head yet? I hope not. I’m not sure why the Army insists on making you all look like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers. I’m sure you’ll still look cute even with short hair! I don’t think I can say the same for Santi, but you didn’t hear that from me… hehehe

I just moved into my dorm yesterday! My roommate seems pretty nice. Her name is Jessica and she’s from Georgia. She claims that she’s neat and she better be, or I may lose my mind. I’ll send you pictures of my dorm once it’s all set up! It’s kind of a mess right now, but I made sure to put the picture of us from prom up on my desk :)

I don’t start class until next Tuesday. Hopefully I’ll meet some new people in my dorm or on the soccer team so I’m not a total loser with no friends. LOL.

Have you met anyone new yet? I can’t wait to hear all about your new Army friends! I already started a countdown calendar until we can see each other again. Only 70 days until basic training is done and I can hear about everything in person!

I miss you a lot. I know that’s dumb to say because it’s only been a week, but still. I wish I would have kissed you again before you got on the plane to leave. I promise I will when I see you. Nothing says perfect place to kiss like South Missouri, romance capital of the USA (haha).

I know you’re gonna be busy, but write me back when you have time. The return address on the envelope is my dorm address, so use that, or risk Doug and Michelle reading your mail if you send it to my house!!! I can’t wait to hear from you. Miss you, weirdo.

From,

Kenz :) <3

His luck of the draw sends a wave of relief through him, smiling down at the curvy loops of your perfectly neat printing signed at the bottom of the page. It makes his heart skip a beat, the same kind of butterflies coming to life in his stomach as they did the first time he read it. He’s earned his money back and then some. He gets how casinos never go broke, because the high of good fortune is enough to have him reaching back into the box to put another gamble on the line.

October 13th, 2009

Frankie,

I always feel dumb sending multiple letters before I hear back from you, but you know me, I love to worry. I know you can’t tell me where you are right now (stupid military and their secrets for the safety of society lol) but I’ve been seeing stuff on the news and it makes me scared for you. I just hope wherever you are, you’re safe.

My dad’s cancer is back. He’s been in the hospital for almost two weeks now. They found a new mass on his liver, but they said hopefully they can target it with radiation before it starts to spread. Cassandra at the front desk asked how you were when I was at the hospital yesterday. I said that you were good. I think she’s only asking because if you’re not there, there’s no one to keep me from burning a hole in the waiting room carpet.

I wish you were here. I feel really lost right now. I just know if you were here, you’d find a way to make everything better. You always do.

Sorry this letter isn’t longer. I haven’t been sleeping that great and don’t have enough brainpower to write something decent. Just wanted to let you know what’s going on.

Counting down the days until you make good on your promise. I hope you come home soon, Frankie.

Kenzie

He curses himself for an unlucky draw, heart sinking at the tear stains smearing the blue ink of your trembling letters. An overwhelming wave of guilt washes over him, vivid memories of reading your notes in his bunk alone, wishing there was a way he could fly halfway around the world for a night just to hold you and tell you that everything was going to be okay.

It’s the addictive itch in the back of his brain that makes him decide to pull one more letter from the box, taking one last gamble to see if he can prove the nagging pit in his stomach to quit while he’s ahead, wrong.

February 4th, 2011

Hey,

If you don’t want to write anymore, that’s fine. I was trying to be friendly, but clearly you don’t really care. Just let me know and I’ll stop bombarding you with mail you obviously don’t want. Or I guess you not responding is letting me know. If you want to send anything back you can send it to my parents house. I’m moving into Liam’s house and it’s only 20 minutes away so I can just drive there and pick it up. No need to send you a new address you probably aren’t going to write to, anyways.

I guess I’ll see you when I see you.

MacKenzie

And that’s how Vegas will always stay in business.

Because now Frankie is forced to walk away, all his money stolen from him at the stupid risk he’s decided to take. The one letter he’d give anything not to read again is the one he had to pull.

Heat seethes in his chest- he can’t quite explain why. Because he lost at a rigged game he’d set up for himself? That he still hasn’t quite come to terms with the ugly truth of what he put the both of you through? That he wishes with everything in him, he could go back and change what he’s done?

Or maybe, it’s because now might be the last chance he has to fix what he’s broken, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to live with himself if he can’t.

He leaves the pile in the basement unfinished, shoes barely tied to his feet before he bursts out the door in a sprint.

He's not sure where he's going. He's not even sure how long he's run for. All he knows is the pounding of his feet against the pavement, trying to outrun the stupid decisions of his past.

He tells himself if he runs fast enough, he'll beat them.

If he goes far enough, they'll be forgotten.

If he outraces them, you'll be there waiting for him at the finish line.

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@kungfucapslock @vannabanana1995

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

73 notes · View notes

wundergeek · 1 day ago

Text

Excerpt from a 4K word fic of me being Very Normal About G'raha along these lines - - -

THEN

I returned, dazed, to the bottom of the lift.

Alisaie gave me a too-innocent smile. "How was your talk with the Exarch?"

Shit. She knew. Of course she knew.

I fought down a surge of panic. We'd never made what we had official - in fact, Alisaie had shut me down every time I'd tried to mention my burgeoning feelings. But she still deserved to know that I'd kissed someone else. "Alisaie, I..."

"You want to fuck the Exarch," she said, smirking.

My cheeks burned. "It's complicated," I mumbled.

Which it was. I'd kissed the Exarch, but I wasn't sure I wanted to fuck him. On the other hand, I'd wanted to fuck G'raha, but never got a chance to kiss him.

"I don't know how I feel about fucking the Exarch, but I did kiss him. And I'd like to do it again. But. I won't if you don't want me to."

To my relief, Alisaie shook her head. "No promises, remember? We could all die tomorrow, so why not chase what happiness you can today?" She rolled her eyes and punched me fondly in the arm. "Besides. Do I look foolish enough to think I can put a fence around a heart big enough to love the entire world?"

For the second time that day, profound, unutterable relief. She understood. "Thank you."

Alisaie waved her hand airily. "If you want to thank me, go get your boy."

I laughed.

- - -

NOW

The soul vessel is pulsing slowly, but G'raha is still unconscious. My magical senses tell me something seems to be happening, but it's happening a lot slower than it did with the Scions.

"Gods damn it, G'raha." I snap. "I had to watch you die, so if you haven't somehow managed to pull this rabbit out of your hat, I'm going to be... very cross with you." My voice breaks as the last comes out as a sob.

I put my head on my knees and weep.

I've cried myself out and am sitting there, trembling miserably, when G'raha finally stirs and opens his eyes. I see recognition, followed by confusion reflected in his red eyes. "Savvel?"

"G'raha!" I manage to give him a watery smile, but my heart is still in my throat. "How much do you remember?"

He blinks as he searches his memories. "I remember Elidibus," he says slowly. "And climbing the Crystal Tower and... Gods. Oh Gods, I remember turning--" I shush him as I pull him into my arms and stroke his back. He sobs and buries his face in my neck.

"I've got you, G'raha. We're in the Source. You're okay." My voice breaks, and I realize that I'm grinning like a fool and crying at the same time. "Everybody is okay."

"Everybody? ...really?"

"You're the last to wake up, on account of all the pesky security systems you've got around here."

G'raha laughs weakly, and it hits me all at once that somehow we did it. We won, and he's okay - better than okay! - he's alive, awake, and seems to have all his memories intact. My arms tighten convulsively around him and I nuzzle into his hair. "You're an idiot and I forbid you from sacrificing yourself again," I choke out. "Do you hear me?"

G'raha laughs again, and I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "sometimes sacrifices have to be made."

"No." My voice is firm, the most firm, and I am definitely not giggling. "I don't accept that."

"You wouldn't."

And then G'raha's mouth is on mine. We kiss in a delicious frenzy of mouths and hands and moaning, so much moaning, and I realize that Alisaie was correct. I do want to fuck the Exarch.

Read the whole fic on AO3

G'raha, I would die for you

Okay. Replaying Shadowbringers rn and G'raha just got abducted by Emet-Selch, and this whole scene hits just as hard on the fourth play-through as it did on the first. Look at this fuckin face. This is the face of a man who loved you from a distance for A HUNDRED YEARS assuming you didn't even remember his fucking name, until you call out to him just as he's about to sacrifice his life for yours.

He's about to teleport himself into the Rift and fuckin' die, and still, that proof that you remember him, that you matter to him makes him so fucking happy.

And. Like. Take a minute to think about that.

Not only did he come up with this insane scheme to rewrite history, then actually have the brilliance to pull it off, but... he has lived MULTIPLE LIFETIMES for you, and walked into this situation anyway, fully thinking that he was going to die, and totally prepared to sacrifice more than anyone could possibly comprehend. Like - imagine living long enough to see the small community of refugees you harbored to grow into a vibrant city. Imagine being part of their lives as the first residents of the Crystarium have children, grow old, and die, even as their children are having children of their own.

Imagine an attack that happens during that second generation that kills a couple with a young child and taking her in because she has no one to care for her. Imagine taking time, despite all of your responsibilities and literally being on the clock to save the world, to raise her to be strong, loyal, and unfailingly excellent at what she does. She isn't your blood, but she's the closest thing you'll ever have to a daughter, and still you don't hesitate to leave when it's time to see your scheme through to its ultimate end - your ultimate end.

Imagine what it would have been like making those final preparations without being able to tell anyone that you were saying goodbye.

Imagine having tea with Chessamile and agreeing with her that you need to do this more often.

Imagine discussing improvements to the Crystarium with Katliss that you know you'll never see.

Imagine gossiping with Bragi and knowing you'll never get to hear how things turned out.

Imagine visiting Moren to give him a book and saying nothing as he insists that he'll return it to you when he's finished.

Imagine having lunch with Lyna, your daughter, who will find herself in charge when you're gone, and having to give her instructions about what to do in the event of your death.

Imagine having that much love in your life - an entire city that you built from the ground up, and whose residents you loved with all your heart, and who loved you just as strongly. And calmly bidding that entire life farewell as you take an amaro to Kholusia to rewrite history by saving the life of the person you love, thinking that you were nothing more than a minor footnote in their previous adventures. Then imagine finding out at the literal last second that they not only remember, but cared deeply about you the entire time, and still having the strength of will to sacrifice yourself anyway.

What an icon. What an absolute fucking legend.

#g'raha tia #g'raha/wol #final fantasy xiv #ff14 #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #eventual smut #smut with feelings #trans smut

148 notes · View notes

dykedvonte · 2 days ago

Note

One of my mutuals opinions is the "bro code" thing, that Curly is one of those guys who wouldn't care about the victim because the perpetrator is his friend and I'm really banging my head on the wall like that other anon. I've only played through the game once but Curly's behaviour/reactions etc read completely different from the "bro code" thing and I have to wonder if my mutual and I even played the same game.. like the constant digs at him from Jimmy, his body language in his face reveal and so on like you mentioned in your post. While this game is a little different obviously, it kind of reminded of a point in Alice Madness Returns that makes it very clear that Alice's pain blinded her to the abuse of the other children and her failure to act earlier because of it. Curly is guilty of a similar inaction but it doesn't change the fact he was a victim of Jimmy too. I don't think I can look at it any other way because both of these games have really stuck with me.

I genuinely think it really is the idea that people want a simple easy to blame problem and the idea that the only relatable victims of abuse are those that "surpass" it or do a lot to help others. When it comes to victims, especially those that don't fit the typical demographics, who either accidently perpetuate it, enable it or aren't ideal in some way shape or form, people jump to ignore what they went through as it's easier than dealing with those conflicting sentiments.

The bro-code conversation in Mouthwashing stems from a concept I generally dislike that there had to be something about Curly that made him meet or keep being friends with someone like Jimmy. I think people genuinely underestimate how many like decent and good people just know an asshole or are friends with someone who is really bad outside of their view/established dynamics. The game makes it clear none of the inaction against Jimmy is because of a lack of care, it is a lack of understanding from the privaleged postions they have as men to not have to worry about what Anya does/went through and the type of extremes men like Jimmy will go through to cover it up. They are all too preoccupied in their own strifes.

Another thing I see being oversaturated the idea that you have to be a freak, misanthrope or have a disorder to do the thing Jimmy does. The game is an escalation, it's a spiral that I don't see people comment on that Jimmy was not likely having the mood swings and episodes of rage/frustration we were seeing in the game. This is after they all start experiencing the worst moments in their lives that he got THAT openly bad. Of course, this is just my interpretation but much like in real life, people that go to extremes like that usually live mundane lives. It's a pressure cooker affect to where the stress made them pop. It's self inflicted but still the case.

I really think people need to be more willing to acknowledge that not everything needs to be an extreme or in black and white or easy to understand. It doesn't need to be happy or have an answer or solution, especially in the cases where the abused sadly helps perpetuate what they experience. It's not he should've known better from experience or shouldn't he have known what could've happened because victims tend to not like to think in matters of the worst. Not to mention, especially in cases of abuse where it feels so personally directed that you don't expect to happen to someone else.

#i also hear the bro code thing in tandem with his comments on saying he knows Jimmy but that is also in a much different context than #if he said it when Anya was actively telling him about the dead pixel or the pregnancy or even when she told jimmy that was about himself #and getting between Anya and Jimmy as in he knows Jimmy and knows he wont try anything when hes around not that he doesnt think hes #doing anything or doesn't believe Anya and Im a bit annoyed people shorthand or try to recontextualize the statements he makes about it #cause even the let me talk to him line is more in concern of what Jimmy could be doing and less wanting to make sure hes okay and #being more worried about his friend than Anya in that moment like removing the context makes the sentiments sound more uncaring #and typically but the context is how they are deconstructed to give the story and themes a deeper nuance because Anya is happy that Curly #says that becuase he leads it under the idea of protecting her as he knows and she has likely seen/experienced it enough that Jimmy #back down/off around Curly typically as we see he does relatively subdue Jimmy's attitude before the eval and it only gets bad once the #scene at the birthday party happens when Jimmy is likely in a mode where hes not going to listen to Curly about anything after cause he fee #personally betrayed in a selfish egotistical way like the game is a deconstruction nothing is supposed to a typical one to one on the #concepts it handles. this also ties to me like getting more and more annoyed everytime is see a post making Curly the most milktoast #no opinions ever sort of guy when he does have a personality outside of enabling Jimmy and has opinions on things like the QnA's #talking about him being snow Tony Hawk flesh him out more realistically than think pieces saying he has no opinions on anything #and would never take stances like this is a immediate dire circumstance with multiple facets I dont think hed hesitate to help if he active #saw like someone getting attacked on the street or that hes a centrist that doesnt care about womans issues like this is the equivalent #of when a character gets dumbed down to their like favorite food and one defining aspect of themselves and even then I feel like everyone #else but the mouthwashing fandom has a better grasp of that aspect before they make it unrecognizable.#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #ask #anon

62 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 16 hours ago

Note

I interpreted the "adaptation from the manga" thing to imply that they'll animate the 3 Yuus (like you said) but my partner proposed smth to me that raised my concerns... what if they only animate Yuuka? or like- default to a female Yuu? I could see that bc it would be probably easier for them to have only one protagonist.

don't get me wrong I like Yuuka and I know a lot of TWST fans are women but since the studio involved is apparently known for shojos I'm scared they'll make it seem like the story is romantic/the game is an otome... Which I mean- we do have SOME fanservice stuff but it's definitely not a romance story. That's why I'm scared 😭 if they do go that path... I much rather prefer the disconnection (?) of having 3 different Yuus than the possibility of this...

Also I'm just 🥲 I'm scared ppl will see that and say ahhh So Yuu has always been a woman!! Because as a trans guy, one thing that rlly made me feel valid in a way was seeing that in the game Yuu has no gender at all... I don't go by they/them but I'd much rather be referred as that than to be misgendered. It's a small thing but it's such an important detail for me (the fact that Yuu is gender neutral/can be whatever u want them to be) that it being erased in the anime would make me pretty sad... even more if ppl take the anime as "confirmation" of Yuu's gender, which it wouldn't be regardless if they end up giving us a girl OR guy Yuu- it would just be another Yuu interpretation different from the game.

But yeah, personal stuff aside, I'm more scared by the possibility of them making it seem like it's a romance story 😭 or ppl calling TWST an otome... which I mean... some people already have that misconception, even some fans...

[Referencing this post and this news!]

I definitely think they're probably leaning towards a new Yuu every season; otherwise, there would be a very uneven distribution of screen time for one Yuu over the others, and that leads into the problem of one Yuu being "more" canon than the rest. Yes, it will probably be easier logistically speaking to keep the same Yuu for the entire anime--but I also said the same thing when we only had the Episode of Heartslabyul manga, and look what happened with that. We ended up getting Yuuka and Yuuta following Yuuken, regardless of the logistical inconvenience of it all. I think if the anime intended to have a singular Yuu to follow for the main story, they would have chosen to adapt the light novel (which has Yuuya across multiple volumes) instead of the manga. The conscious decision to adapt the manga (with changing Yuus) says something to me. So really, I don't think we have to worry about one "kind" of Yuu dominating the anime. I took a look at the portfolios of the two studios collaborating for the Twst anime and didn't see a ton of shoujo myself. There was definitely a handful of them, but overall there was a spread of genres. I think Yumeta Company (one of the studios) has Tokyo Mew Mew New under its belt, which is probably one of its better-known works and maybe that's where the "they're known for doing shoujo" allegations are coming from? Don't quote me on that, though. I'm not someone who closely follows anime studios.

I would, however, like to point out that we shouldn't put all our stock into the studios behind the anime. Yes, they are obviously animating the project and thus have an influence on how the final product is. However, there are tons of other people involved (like the script writer) that will dictate how the anime looks and feels. (In fact, the script writer for the Twst anime, Kato Yoichi, is not known for writing shoujo.) I highly doubt all the staff involved at every possible level of production are conspiring to make Twst a genre it's not. (Related: I blame socialization for this, but it's a little sad that most of us by default think one woman + a bunch of men in a cast must be romantic.)

Now, to your main point. I understand the initial fear of people misunderstanding Twst as a dating sim/otome from how it is presented. Really, I do. I also understand the frustration that comes with people claiming Yuu's identity or gender or what have you is "confirmed". But to that, I ask you: so what? And I don't mean that in a "your feelings aren't valid" way (because your feelings are very valid!) I mean in like... Do these misconceptions others have truly impact your own enjoyment? Do the people believing in these falsehoods erase what you know is the truth? I would wager it doesn't. There has been and always will be those who see Twst or interpret Yuu as something they are not. Lots of us (myself included) thought Twst was an otome game when they first heard of its concept. People claimed Yuuken was the definitive Yuu when the first chapter of the manga dropped. That's fandom, especially the larger they get. If we fixate on those sore spots, it will ultimately make us unhappy because there will never be an end to misunderstandings. I would advise that you try and detach from those worries and just focus on having your own fun in the fandom rather than worrying about how others are consuming or reacting to Twst. Yes, we want Twst, a franchise we've seriously been invested in and love, to be seen a certain way--but I don't think that should come at the cost of your enjoyment. Fandom is meant to be fun, and we don't want to make ourselves miserable by stressing over the "what ifs", you know? Please focus on yourself!!

66 notes · View notes

theoncomingchaos · 2 days ago

Text

Who loves Rook: Spite or Lucanis

I've been seeing a lot of discourse about this, and I just want to add my thoughts.

I might be totally wrong about this, but here we go. When Spite was put into Lucanis, he was still Determination. The fact that he changed throughout the torture, forced insertion, and imprisonment suggests to me that they have been put into a speedrun of a similar situation to Anders and Justice/Vengeance where they have started to meld. (As Anders put it, you wouldn't know where one begins and the other ends). Just like Anders and Vengeance, Lucanis and Spite can have separate consciousnesses and even disagree about things, but their core values have started to influence one another and become a part of one another- heightening certain aspects.

I think this melding is why we see some dialogues where Rook tells Lucanis that he sounds like Spite and similarly it's also the reason for the shared attraction- which I fully believe is coming originally from Lucanis.

I'll be honest my first time through I romanced Lucanis and was very disappointed. I didn't even see him and Neve ever flirt (she only ever encouraged us!) But still, it seemed to go from 0 to 60 with him. Now, I am on my second playthrough and I only just met him, but I am starting to see some really subtle looks and dialogues that suggest that Lucanis wasn't lying later when he said he was attracted to Rook from the beginning, but was afraid to really pursue anything or even acknowledge the possibility of being with them. With his fear of trusting people, ptsd from the prison, failed history in romance, and his new situation with Spite that he still hadn't worked out yet, he never thought anything would or could ever come of his feelings. We know Lucanis loves romance stories and likely longs for one of his own, but in such a situation it must have seemed truly impossible and terrifying to let someone else in. Especially someone you really care for and are starting to trust. So, he pushed it all down. Rook flirts? Maybe a small smile, but then quickly lock it all up with everything else he can't handle. Focus on work. Don't think about Spite, or Rook, or anything difficult.

However, if the melding has already happened as I suspect, then the feelings Spite is expressing are shared with (and likely sourced from) Lucanis, he's just better at expressing it directly- which makes sense for a spirit that was once Determination. When you first talk to Lucanis after the rescue, the thing Spite says about Rook changes accordingly to your tone, but to me the responses still sound like they come from Lucanis and are then echoed in Spite: "He doesn't want to hurt us." Even the "He's more fun than you" is something Lucanis seems to think about himself as he is fully aware that much of his life has not been his own and believes "all he knows is death."

Leading back to the main point, Lucanis's trust and interest in Rook would be heightened by Spite the way Anders' anger towards the templars was heightened. Even though they are finally free from the prison, their is a sense of constant suffering from still feeling trapped by fear, regret, and pain- Spite feels that suffering too. The elements of determination are still within him the same way justice is another side to vengeance. Both spite and vengeance are the results of failing to achieve their goals of Justice and Determination. Spite sees Rook as a way to free them from pain and restraint, a glowing and beautiful key to the prison door, and he is determined to do what needs to be done to solve the problem. That's why he doesn't hesitate. He has no fear. He wants to talk to Rook. He wants Rook to come in and free them.

After Rook has freed them, they become a source of comfort and safety, once they encourage Lucanis and Spite to find a way to cohabit comfortably, the two continue to meld, and the need to protect Rook, to love Rook, to keep them, is very deeply shared. Now, IF Spite was somehow removed or even somehow restored (Both of which I think are impossible) that would likely change. Determination outside of Lucanis would likely become more like Compassion. He would likely forget the horrors he experienced to return to his original purpose.

So, that leaves some final questions, particularly one Hawke helpfully asked Anders- Is Spite an unwilling party in the threesome?

That's up to everyone's own morality. While both Spite and Lucanis didn't have a choice to become like this, it is the situation they are in and the way they have to find a way to accept and live with because there really doesn't seem to be any real way to change it. Through their time together, Lucanis and Spite have influenced each other and grown into something new. Part of that is Spite also loving Rook. In that way, for those who are feeling (rightfully) underwhelmed by Lucanis's romance, Spite can almost be seen as a symbolic expression of Lucanis's love.

All that being said, I think there were some small things they could have done to make the romance more satisfying over all...but I'll save that for another post.

#Dragon Age #DA:TV #dragon age the veilguard #DA4 #DA:V #lucanis dellamorte #spite dragon age #dragon age rook #lucanis x rook #lucanis romance #spoilers #Maybe I'm missing something but this currently where I'm at with trying to digest things and figure out what the goal was with this romance

65 notes · View notes

mirrorcatcreditcard · 13 hours ago

Text

Take I haven't seen in the fandom yet:

Luka doesn't want to be freed.

"Now, MirrorCatCreditcard," you may say, "that's nonsense. Any human would want freedom from that system."

If you're thinking I'm gonna convince you that Luka doesn't know he wants freedom yet, you're wrong. I'm here to talk about indoctrination/conditioning, grooming/emotional manipulation, my own experience with those topics, and how all of the above connects with Luka as a character. If a deep dive like this is too much for you, please tap out for your own sake.

Luka's life was planned before he even existed. There has never ever been an alternative option. There is no life for Luka as anything but what Herperu chose. Everything in his life has been planned to have him be the perfect pet human idol. That is what he must be.

Fandom, I don't think most of you actually understand this and have dissected what this means (shout-out to the Luka stans who are getting there/have guessed similar things). These words we know have alternatives and are not set in stone are Luka's "gravity makes rain fall to the earth" and "water makes things wet." They are facts so deeply ingrained within him that even if shown the contrary he remarks that the person showing them is just disillusioned.

Take his commentary on Mizi and Hyun-A in the art book. He looks down on Mizi for not being able to control any of her emotions. How does he talk about Hyun-A? He has her at 70% affection yet shows a patronizing attitude—she's the one in denial at reality.

Now, how did we get here? How is a human so "delusional" and set in the control?

He's been conditioned.

Some of you don't know what I mean by this from experience and/or research, and count yourself fortunate that you don't. I pray you never experience such things firsthand. Don't worry about ignorance. Familiar or not, I will explain.

When you are surrounded by only one truth and reality, that is the way you interpret life. If a parent tells a child "the moon goes to sleep during the day," until the child learns otherwise, that's what they believe. Now take that child-like belief and add some toxic environments to the mix. With time, any other kid would learn that the earth rotates from their peers or adults around them. But if the creatures around them all say and believe the same thing "the moon goes to sleep during the day," then that is what the child continues to believe. Years of that same thing being the only truth make that false knowledge into a fact in the person's head, and everything that supports that fact is taken as truth or on the right path to truth.

"This is kinda silly though," you guys are no doubt murmuring, "All of this is a hypothetical. Give us something that makes sense or that someone could actually see happen in our society."

I'll give you my own experience then. My parents taught me that God is real. My parents taught me that I will be damned I do not follow the commandments of the scriptures. I didn't need to worry though. As long as I was obedient to the God who loved me and wanted what was best, I would be saved despite being born an awful sinful human. I was homeschooled, only interacted with people of similar beliefs, and taught that people too different from me in ideology or with radical beliefs against my own were trying to harm me and my family. I believed the people who raised me because why would people who love me lie to me? My task was simple. I needed to obey God and love everyone, especially them. Love meant giving up my entire being and living only as servant and sacrifice. After all, being selfless to the utmost was the greatest form of love.

Let's go back to Luka. His guardian, Herperu, when questioned about any surprises while training Luka, stated not only that he was the one who endured the "tough moments" but also that "(Luka) owes his success to me, and naturally, he should be grateful." This sentiment is echoed by Luka in his interview (shown on Patreon). My god, it's giving parents with disabled kids who brag on social media about how much trouble their kid is and how much they do for them. Sickening. This shows exactly what environment Luka has lived in though.

When you are manipulated into having something as your reality, everything else is fiction and delusion.

Let's review what exactly is Luka's reality.

Heperu is the one suffering if Luka has any difficulties being obedient.

Gratitude is what Herperu is owed because he goes through so much trouble to make Luka a star.

Love/care is shown by owning another's autonomy.

Emotions and bodily reactions exist, sure, but someone should be able to control them; and if they can't, someone should control those reactions for them.

Segyein are superior and the good ones for dealing with humans. Humans must be disciplined and shaped to how an segyein wants it to act to be considered deserving of this goodness.

(Luka)'s perfection is defined by his guardian.

Luka's life is directly connected to being the perfect performer. His guardian praises his abilities with the statement that no other pet human will ever be as perfect as him yet leaves an underlying threat saying that it will be no good if a pet is not trained properly. This has probably been mentally (if not physically) beaten into Luka's mind: his greatness doesn't stop him from being able to be disposed of. The human instinct to want to live has been explained to him as Heperu's wish for him to live and that has been further distorted as a duty to live for the stage he has been placed on.

Luka believes fully that there is a debt in play here. In his interview, he mentions repaying love. He thinks the relationship between fan and idol is completely normal, encouraged, and healthy. Performance is the most important thing. Being where he is is a privilege.

There's a chain here:

Heperu indoctrinated Luka into believing what he says is all true.

The guardian manipulated him easily to do what he wanted with his body and mind.

The years have been spent constantly conditioning Luka to be the god who encapsulated fantasies for the audience.

He is continually being groomed to exist for the entertainment and enjoyment of segyein.

Circle back to my first point of this post. Luka does not want to be freed. He doesn't know what freedom actually is. He sees freedom as either foolish denials of reality (and doesn't consider that actual freedom) or as controlling the song and stage when he performs (something he learned from Hyuna). He cannot want something he cannot understand. He cannot want freedom in the sense the fandom keeps speaking about.

It's funny. From the moment Luka was revealed to be hated by the fandom, I wanted to know why. Instead of digging and finding horrific deeds, I instead found a character who portrayed my own traumas and experiences. I instantly attached and delved deeply into learning about this thirty year old singer. Why does he express himself in a certain way? Where do we first see mention of him? Who does he have emotions towards? How was he trained? What makes Luka himself? I have past essays/replies to other's theories if you're interested, but in this one I got personal and didn't sugarcoat the facts. If the fandom can't handle deep thought, we shouldn't be discussing this incredibly profound and depth-filled web series.

As always, thank you for your time, and I hope my thoughts allowed you to open your mind to new things. Mostly, I hope you enjoyed them 🫶

#alnst #alien stage #alnst luka #alien stage luka #luka alnst #luka alien stage #alien stage analysis #alien stage theory #alnst analysis #alnst theory #tw trauma #tw conditioning #tw manipulation #tw abuse #we're dissecting the following triggers btw #in cass you're wondering #take care

72 notes · View notes

fanfictiongirlie · 2 days ago

Text

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter Four

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Swearing

Chapter Words: 1,192

(I have the urge for every Marvel fanfic I write to have a seperate timeline where nothing bad happens, and everyone is happy)

I leave the lab and make my way back to the kitchen, it was close to lunch now, the kitchen was fuller than it was before, Bucky and Steve were still in here. But now Wanda, Vision, Sam, Nat and Peter were in here. I grinned when I sat Nat, I walked over to her, sitting next to her at the dining table, resting my head on her shoulder.

"How did telling Tony go?" Steve asks first.

"They were happy for me, Bucks, did you tell anyone in here?" I ask, feeling a little tired, I saw everyone look at me confused, their eyes darting between Bucky and myself. Bucky shakes his head, his eyes no leaving mine.

"No doll, I didn't tell anyone, I figured I'd let you handle that"

"Thanks" I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. I watch as Bucky shoots me a glare.

"Guys, I'm pregnant and it's Bucky's" I say quickly, I watch Nat's reaction, she looks at me confused, a little hurt in her eyes, probably that I had kept her in the dark about all of this. A collective gasp travels through the room, I stay quiet watching everyone's reaction with a smirk on my lips. After a few moments of stunned silence, Wanda was the first to speak.

"Congratulations" She grins widely at me.

"Are you happy?" Nat asks, I look at her, and nod. I give her a sad, sorry look until she hugs me. "Congrats girlie"

I smile softly as she hugs me, knowing I was off the hook.

"Wait, you and Bucky...how did that happen?" Peter asks, I pull away from the hug and look at him with a sly grin.

"Aw Petey, have you not been given the talk yet?" I ask, playfully, I watch as Peter blushes.

"Hey! I know how babies are made! I just...never thought you and Bucky..I mean, the two of you don't even like each other" He rambles, his voice stuttery. I giggle, my body feeling a little tired, but I then tell everyone the same story we told Steve, they listened intently, there were a few chuckles and looks of disbelief as I describe mine and Bucky's initial arguments, our secret encounters and finally finding out we were pregnant.

"Cool, is that everyone filled in?" I ask. There's a chorus of nods and murmurs of affirmation.

"Good, fuck I want coffee" I say as nearly everyone in the room had a mug in front of them, I could smell the coffee, and it smelled amazing. It smelt warm and smooth, it made my stomach growl in need.

"Oh doll, you'll survive without caffeine for a few months" Bucky smirks at me. I roll my eyes shooting a glare towards him.

"Says you, I think you shouldn't drink caffeine because I can't" I say, standing up walking to where he was standing. I watched as Bucky looked up at me from his seat, his eyes rolling at me.

"Oh that's real fair doll, punish me just because you can't have caffeine"

"I'm being punished for having sex with you" I whine. I watch as Bucky's eyes widen, surprised at my blunt comment, he was through and through a man of his time, talking about sex made him uncomfortable, I loved it. I heard Steve cough slightly. Luckily Nat was smirking, as was I.

"You really don't hold back, do you doll?" Bucky asks quietly.

"Whatever, I'm going for a nap" I say, looking at Bucky suggestively.

"Alright doll, go get some rest" He answers me, smiling softly at me.

"You not coming?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows at him. His eyes widen slightly, his cheeks slightly flushing, he shoots me a warning glare, well aware of the fact that everyone was watching us.

"No doll, you go rest"

"Bucky, I was hinting if you wanted to have sex" I say annoyed, we hadn't slept together since a week before finding out I was pregnant, I needed it. His eyes widen even more, if that were possible. Shock crosses his face for a moment before he remains his composure, trying to regain his usual stoicism. He clears his throat and looks at me, a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"Doll, not in front of everyone! Seriously have some tact" He whispers, his voice stern as he glares at me. I roll my eyes and huff.

"Ugh, whatever Barnes" I snap and storm out of the room. I walked through the compound annoyed, a little bit annoyed at Bucky, but mostly I couldn't understand why I was so angry, I blamed it on the pregnancy, I'd have to get some books, try to understand it more.

Once I reached my room, I huffed and laid on my bed, feeling less annoyed as my head hit the pillow. A few minutes passed and I heard a little knock on my door.

"Doll? Can I come in?" Bucky's voice traveled through the door.

"No, piss off" I answer.

"Come on doll, I wanna talk" He speaks again, I don't answer, he doesn't speak for a few moments, and adds in a quieter tone "Please?"

"Ugh fine" I groan, not moving from my position. I watch as my bedroom door opens, he stalks in, and walks in, moving to sit on the edge of my bed, he looks at me still slightly annoyed.

"Doll...you can't just..say things like that in front of everyone" He says, I felt like I was being told off, it pissed me off more.

"I didn't, that's why I was hinting" I smirked. I watched as his face show more annoyance, he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to maintain his composure.

"You know what I mean, and so did everyone else!" Bucky answers.

"It's not exactly a secret we had sex Bucks" I say, laughing quietly. Bucky groans, he knows I'm right, he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

"I know doll, but there's a difference between people knowing we've slept together and you practically announcing it to everyone in the room" He explains, his cheeks flushed.

"Fuck..fine, I won't ask if you want to have sex anymore" I snapped. I watch as he rolls his eyes, I could sense a hint of amusement in his eyes along with the annoyance.

"I didn't say that doll, just don't be so...blatant and vulgar in front of everyone?" He suggests, I roll my eyes and snuggle further into my bed.

"Whatever Barnes, let me nap"

He shakes his head slightly, a slight smirk on his lips.

"Alright doll, you sleep"

"Could join me... if you want" I say quietly.

"Might as well" He whispers, I grin and lift the duvet allowing him to crawl into the bed, he wraps his arm around me, pulling me in close, I fit perfectly against his body, his arm brushes against my nipples as he gets comfortable.

"Ooo, careful of my boobs, they're sensitive" I mumble, snuggling into him.

"I'll be careful" He chuckles, his voice a low rumble against my skin, I watch as his eyes glance down to my chest, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

(I do not consent my works to be posted anywhere else, by anyone other than myself)

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @jaybbygrl @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @learisa @hi172826 @ravennablue @purplecolordeer @a-small-blue-nebula

#fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic

57 notes · View notes

rebouks · 1 day ago

Note

Do you have any recommendations for starting a story? Yours is so good and it really inspires me to try and make one of my own but idk where to start

Hmmm a tough question! I think we all just kinda start and learn as we go? It's the best way tbh.. if you look back at the beginning of most simblr stories they've usually come a long way! Here's a couple tips that I think might be handy tho...

Maybe we could start a thread and everyone could reblog this with their own tips?! 🤩

Decide if you want to build your own lots/sets or not. If you do you'll probs wanna start off with the main places you'll use that're full of personality, like a main characters house or place of work etc. you can always download some neat lots and edit them to your liking if you're not a builder, or maybe even download a whole save file!

Start a character page (or make an intro post for em if you can't be arsed with the technicalities) - not essential but useful for you and the readers to keep track of who's who and maybe state a few facts about them etc.

Start collecting some poses and ideally rename them so they're easy to find! I personally like to add smth like [PETS] or [KISSING] etc to mine (in s4s) in conjunction with twistedmexi's pose finder to make things easier to grab.

If you use reshade/gshade, taking the time to find or create a nice preset will save you a bunch of time editing.

For the love of god if you're gonna make a bunch of extras, try and dress them in maxis clothes/hair.. I'm so SICK of having to redress everyone every time I clear out a bunch of cc skjdksj 🙈 you can always give em an extra, fancy cc outfit for specific scenes on the day but yeah, do yourself a solid where possible to save time/pain in the future. Same goes for lots you don't use often, try and limit the cc you use!

Figure out if you're a planner or not! If you can't manage without a plan it's okay to take some time before starting to figure everything out and get a detailed outline going. If you're more of a pantser (like me!) you can always just get going with a rough idea in mind and see what happens!

If you're gonna go with the flow I'd still recommend creating at least a rough outline, you don't have to stick to it like glue but it'll probs help you stay on track and I wish I'd have done this in the beginning, esp if you're gonna have a plot heavy story.

Characters > plot.. (imo!) like.. you could have a super interesting plot in mind but if no one really knows or cares about your characters it's gonna have a limited impact/amount of interest. They don't even have to be likable lmao

Give your characters some flaws! It's fun and it makes them more relatable.

Start with a small cast - not a complete must but it'll be probably be easier for people to get to know your pixels if they're aren't a million of them right off the bat. You can always add more later.

Try not to shoehorn your characters into situations they wouldn't end up in just to further the plot.. a hard one to explain and mostly based on intuition but if a scene feels boring, out of place or forced, it probably is! aka.. be willing to kill your darlings. Maybe you've already established that your character is poor or smth but have this fun idea of a road trip montage or whatever.. like you can't just give them a car and the money to drive a million miles just cos you HAVE to see that scene y'know? Maybe they're gonna have to hitch hike, get the bus, or take out a loan? Probs a bad example but hopefully you get the idea! It can sometimes be more fun to force your characters into a different situation than you imagined anyway, like maybe they meet someone really neat on the bus and they join the trip, or maybe whoever they borrowed money from gets all pissy when they can't pay em back quick enough etc etc.

Let your characters guide you - sometimes characters talk to us! You could've had a whole storyline planned for them, or a romance of whatever, but when it comes down to it, it just doesn't feel right and that's okay! Let them lead you in a different direction now n' then.

Write for you! (ugh becca stfu with this shit) I know, I know but really.. if you're not having fun, what's the point? Don't write what you think other people want and learn to be okay with cutting ideas/scenes/characters/whatever! that you aren't excited about anymore. It should never feel like a chore to create, and if it starts to feel that way, take a break or change it up!

I feel like this is super rambly and I've missed a million obvious things but my brain is mashed potato rn lmao.. pls feel free to add your own tips in a reblog or a comment - everyone has a different take on things! I think it's really important just to start and see what feels natural tho 🤸‍♀️🧡

#ranswers #<3333333 #story tips #??#idk how to tag this #my bio says it all u kno.. we're winging it here n have been from the start weeeeeee #i just daydream my sims into ✨situations✨ and then create them like 9/10 times #lmaoo

43 notes · View notes

thisgirlnamedblusy · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! I enjoy suffering for a couple of minutes with your angst stories hahaha

It's a fact that Donna is a very cultured woman so how about a storie where she and reader are soon to be married and all that, but reader insecurities have been eating her alive cuz she doesn't feel intelligent enough next to Donna, like they don't share the same music taste, maybe reader enjoys pop and newer artists unlike Donna and she tries to suppress that. reader thinks donna will think less of her or something.

one day maybe one of donna's siblings makes fun of reader's lack of knowledge in the arts or something and that makes reader just snaps and cause a fight back at home and throwing the wedding ring to donna and telling her to find a wife worthy of someone smart like her. donna comforts reader telling her she only wants her, and already noticing that reader doesn't know the same things like her, tells her she knows about other stuff and has other talents making reader realize she is also smart, but with other stuff. fluff at the end of course, not all can't be angst 😅

Yesss!!! I don't know if I should feel flattered to know you suffered... (I'm just joking :P) Thank you for your support and for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

Not enough for you

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, insecurities…

Word count: 7,155

Summary: You thought she was perfect, and you just were stupid....

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Just a heads up: Everyone has their own talents, and I don't think someone is less smart or intelligent. All the people are genius in doing something, the thing is to find what, just remember that!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours :))) I love you all!!!

“Do you think it can be fixed? Maybe we should call the Duke and…” Donna commented as you crouched down, looking at the old record player.

“Mm, let me take a look,” you said, opening the closet doors and illuminating the intricacies of the device with a flashlight. “Yes, I know where the problem is, come.”

The lady in black nodded suspiciously, looking at the place you indicated while arching your eyebrows, satisfied.

“I don't see anything, tesoro,” she said, frowning.

“It's this piece here, it seems that time has passed too quickly for it,” you said amused, moving away from the closet and searching for something in a toolbox. “It just needs to be replaced.”

Donna nodded slowly as you searched for the desired item with a concentrated look.

“Aspetta, (Y/N), it might be dangerous,” the lady said, putting a hand on your shoulder before you started to dig around in the record player. “It might give you a cramp or…”

“Bah, calm down,” you sighed with a distorted voice, as you grabbed the flashlight with your teeth. “Mm, jusft, a bif, tighfer and… voilà,” you finally said, with a satisfied smile, standing up and brushing the dust off your dress.

“Is that it?” she asked, looking at the machine with curiosity. “That easy?”

“Look,” you said with a triumphant look, bringing the old piece closer to the lady. “Do you see this thing here? It seems that it was so worn out that it wasn't able to make the disc tray spin,” you explained, running your finger along the frayed piece. “I think that's why we always listened to the same 2 seconds over and over again.”

“Oh,” Donna sighed, making the same gesture and confirming your words. “It seems that nothing lasts forever”

“It will last, as long as I'm here,” you said arching your eyebrows and putting away the tools. “There is no device that can resist me.”

“I see,” the lady in black said, laughing amused and unexpectedly grabbing your waist while placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Thank you, Lady Beneviento.”

You blushed and gave a soft punch to her shoulder while you struggled amused against her kisses.

“Hey, you haven't stolen my last name yet, let me enjoy it while I can,” you joked, stealing another kiss from the lady. “There's still a month left,”

“I still can't believe you're going to be my wife...” Donna whispered, joining her forehead with yours while her hands caressed your cheeks. “Sometimes I think I'm dreaming and that one day I'll wake up... and you won't be here anymore...”

You opened your eyes and shook your head, lifting the lady's chin.

“Hey, Donna,” you said, getting her attention, taking her out of a brief sad moment, of painful memories. “This is better than any dream.”

She smiled, kissing you again and lifting you in the air, spinning you like one of her old records, creating tender laughter that bounced off the walls of the old mansion.

It had surely been a long time since that wallpaper and those wooden panels had witnessed the happiness of their owner.

“(Y/N)… my wife,” the lady murmured with a tender smile, brushing her nose against yours and making you blush again. “I never thought there would be someone like you in my life, someone to marry, to start a family with…”

“Wow, slow down, darling,” you said amused, pushing the doll maker away with a frown. “Don't go so fast, you are immortal, aren't you? We have enough time for that.”

“You're right, I'm sorry,” she said in a low voice, blinking to get out of her own fantasies. “Sometimes I get too excited.”

“It's okay, I like the way you are, Donna,” you responded to her apologies, stealing one last kiss and definitely moving away from her. Otherwise, you couldn't do it; you were terribly addicted to her kisses.

It was another day, another day that joined the countdown of the most important moment of your life.

In that sinister village, love was the last thing you could expect. Fidelity to the Gods, responsibilities to them and the Lords kept you, the poor villagers, from wishing or dreaming of a normal life.

But you always lived in your dreams, in the desire to change the destiny that had been programmed for you when you were born. You weren’t a fervent devotee like the rest of your friends, and to you, Mother Miranda, and her adopted children weren’t deities but obstacles to deal with.

You always tried to stay away from that fanaticism. You never wanted to follow the complacent and submissive flock. Surely you deserved to be punished for your lack of faith, but soon you learned that your different attitude wouldn’t give you problems, but quite the opposite.

When you met her, when Donna Beneviento, youngest Lord and a dark woman, crossed your path, you began to think that perhaps in some way they were Gods. You didn't think so because of her powers, her living doll, or her beauty, one that took you too long to discover.

The attraction you began to feel for her was very different from your previous love infatuations. Donna exerted an unknown, addictive and merciless influence on you, forcing you, shortly after kissing her lips for the first time, to fall madly in love with her.

Yes, it wasn’t easy to deal with a woman like her; a woman with complexes about her appearance, a sick woman who from a very early age had to see herself enveloped in the halo of darkness that the embrace of the Black Gods gave her without asking.

Difficulties, crises, jealousy, doubts… It was an odyssey worthy of telling in a boring romance book, but it was your odyssey, your adventure, the conquest of a wounded heart, of a lost soul that found its place with you.

After several years in the old mansion, of kisses, hugs, passion, laughter, tears… the lady in black couldn’t wait any longer to strengthen your commitment, to impatiently ask you that words stop being just that, and become an unbreakable union.

Fearing that your romance was only fleeting, full of doubts and insecurities, Donna took the next step to convince you and herself that you would never leave her, that there would be something, a ceremony that would say that indeed, your love was forever.

You couldn't say that you had no doubts about marriage, because that would be a lie. It seemed a little hasty to you despite those 4 wonderful years. Maybe it was because you never considered getting married as something truly important in a place like that.

But, above all, it was important to Donna, and that was all you needed when the lady knelt down and swore eternal love to you by showing you a shiny ring. You rambled for days about what your new status would be: wife of a Lord, consort Lord, wife of an immortal demigoddess...

All of that was just rambling, the product of the innocent doubts of a 21-year-old girl facing something as serious and adult as marriage. You stopped seeing it that way very soon after and you knew exactly what you would be: You would be Donna's wife, and that was more than enough; you would be just (Y/N) Beneviento.

“My love... Are you okay?” you asked carefully when you saw that the lady didn’t move from the spot, looking at the floor. “Honey, you are shaking...” you said worriedly as you took her hand.

“No, I'm not okay,” Donna murmured, blinking erratically, breathing the same way. “I-I got suddenly nervous...”

“Mm,” you murmured caressing her cheek, sad to see how the lady's madness always chose the worst moment to show itself. “Shh, calm down, honey... Oh, Donna, are you having another crisis?”

The lady only nodded, letting herself be comforted by your caresses.

“I-I need a moment,” she whispered with a broken voice, surely fighting against the demons in her mind. “I have to make them shut up…”

“I'll tell Angie to stay with you,” you whispered in a tender voice, enduring the excessively strong grip of her hand in yours. “I'm going to... I'm going to make you some tea.”

“N-No, io...” she stammered, shaking her head. “I'll go, (Y/N), I want to be alone... yes, I... I'll be right back.”

“Okay,” you sighed, nodding and being an expert in controlling those episodes, knowing what to do at every moment. “Okay, honey.”

Poor Donna. Fate had been terribly cruel to her, leaving the illness of her mind as the only memory of her family. It was terribly painful for her but for you, it was much worse.

Luckily, over time you learned to take care of her, to comfort her when the voices in her head whispered horrible things. For you, nothing was impossible with her, nothing would ever stop you from loving her.

“Perdonami, (Y/N)” Donna whispered, moving away from you and walking quickly towards the elevator hallway, letting a sob escape from her lips.

“Donna…” you sighed, feeling helpless for not being able to do anything else for her, resigning and letting yourself fall on the couch, looking for the book you used to read. “Well, I can only wait.”

The truth is that you were never bored during those waits or during Donna's work with her dolls. It was a big mansion, with many old devices to tinker with and an unfinished mountain of books to read.

Besides, you always had company, the Angie doll always ran away from her owner's fits of madness for fear of being deactivated. Well, that’s what she told you, you knew that in reality, even if she denied it, that irreverent doll enjoyed your company.

“It was the detective,” the doll said, pointing at your book with enthusiasm. “I'm sure, silly.”

“How could it have been the detective? Angie, haven't you heard the story?” you asked amused, turning a page. “It was the dressmaker.”

“Oh, you're so sure of your words,” the doll hummed, sitting on your lap. “Where does it say that?”

“It doesn't say that, that's the point,” you said. “Do you even know how to read?”

“I can read your mind,” Angie hissed, getting too close to your face.

“Oh, really?” you asked as your eyes wandered over the letters of that detective story. “Well, I hope you're not reading it to me right now…”

“Hey, you shouldn't judge any character before knowing the truth,” the doll snapped at you, making you roll your eyes. “You have no proof.”

“Oh, I have,” you said nodding, turning another page, looking up when you heard the familiar sound of heels on wood. “Donna, are you better?”

“Sì,” the lady replied, her expression more relaxed, embarrassed. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” you said, going back to your book.

“Hey, Donna, Donna,” the doll said jumping off the couch and tugging at the lady's black dress. “The fool thinks she's Sherlock Holmes or something, she says it was the dressmaker.”

“We were reading,” you explained, letting the lady come closer, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek and glancing at your reading.

“The Tape-Measure Murder,” she commented, whispering the title. “Mm, I'm convinced you don't need to read the end to find out the truth.”

“Sometimes Agatha Christie makes it too easy… it's obvious that it was the dressmaker,” you said amused, raising and lowering your eyebrows.

“You see? She thinks she's Miss Marple,” Angie said, pointing at you mockingly. “It was the detective.”

“I don't want to spoil the ending,” Donna said with a tender smile, pinching your cheek. “But (Y/N) is right… it was the dressmaker,” she whispered, making you protest with a sigh.

“Eh, thank you very much,” you said closing the book. “But well, I was right after all,” you said, looking at Angie in a satisfied way, making her grunt.

“I'm sorry, I'm not as discreet as I thought,” your fiancée apologized, shaking her head. “Mm, but you had barely started reading it,” she commented curiously. “How did you know?”

“The clues were too clear,” you said with a petulant tone. “It might seem like a setup, something so obvious it couldn’t be true, but you know, I’m good at crime.”

Donna laughed, giving you a soft kiss on the lips, to which Angie protested with a disgusted grunt, making you both laugh cutely as you separated.

“Mm, detective stories are fine, but I think you could start with something a little more serious,” Donna commented, standing up towards a bookshelf.

You nodded curiously, picking up the bulky book the lady handed you.

“Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dos… Do… Dostres…” you read, frowning at the author’s complicated last name.

“Fyodor Dostoyevsky,” Donna corrected in a friendly tone, to which you arched, nodding absentmindedly. “If you like crime, I think you might be interested.”

“It seems… broad,” you whispered, flipping through the old pages. “Is it funny?”

“Well, depending on how you look at it,” Donna said, with an elegant smile. “It goes deep into the thoughts of a man who wants to commit murder, his conscience, his fears…”

“Oh,” you said disinterestedly, frowning. “But there are unsolved crimes?”

“Read it, it's worth it,” your girlfriend told you, patting you on the shoulder. “I think I'll be a little more boring,” she murmured amused, picking up another book and walking towards the entrance. “I'll put on some music, taking advantage of the fact that my future wife has fixed the record player…”

“I love you,” you whispered confidently, blowing her a kiss in the air.

The atmosphere was calm. Classical music was playing to give even more serenity to the room, but that didn't necessarily have to be a good thing. As you read that complicated book, accompanied by the soft chords of Donna's favorite music, your eyelids seemed affected by gravity.

Yes, you liked detective novels, and you were downright good at guessing the culprit before they revealed themselves, but the book Donna gave you was much more complicated than that and the words jumbled around in your brain.

You liked reading, of course, but you liked to something much lighter, not something that was undoubtedly, inducing you to sleep.

“(Y/N),” Donna said, nudging you slightly. “Are you falling asleep?”

“What?” you asked with a hoarse voice giving away the correct answer, settling down on the couch “No, no, it's... interesting.”

“Honey, your eyes are closing,” she said amused while you maintained a proud pose. “You don't like the book?”

“Oh, yes, yes, it's very entertaining,” you lied, feeling a familiar pang in your chest, an embarrassed blush appearing on your cheeks.

It wasn't the first time it happened. Donna Beneviento, contrary to what was often said in the village, wasn’t just a madwoman. She was a terribly cultured and intelligent woman, and you loved that about her.

But sometimes, just sometimes, you felt that her intelligence was far superior to yours, that somehow, you were a little more… normal. Of course, you ignored all these senseless paranoia, but, from time to time, they came back to haunt you.

You didn't want to seem like an uncultured girl, or uninterested in complicated subjects like art, history or philosophy. You had long since begun to pretend that you weren't so bored by a complicated reading or the soft melody of a work composed centuries ago.

You didn't know what Donna would think if she knew that all of that made you sleepy, you didn't want her to think that you were inferior to her, in any way.

“It's this music, it's making me sleepy,” you said yawning and looking for an excuse for your sudden sleep.

“Oh, I thought you liked classical music,” Donna said, looking at you curiously.

“Yes, and I like it…” you lied, getting up from the couch to clear your head. “But I'd prefer something more… lively.”

“Okay,” Donna nodded, getting up to the record player and stopping that soporific melody. “What do you want?”

“Oh, no, no, no not on that old thing,” you said amused, walking towards an old music player you bought from the Duke and that you fixed yourself. “Now it's my turn.”

“Um, (Y/N)…” the lady said, playing with her hands while you manipulated your record collection.

“Let's see, let's see…” you murmured, feeling Angie climbing up your body.

“This one, this one!” the doll squealed, pointing to one of your favorite records.

“Isn't it a bit old?” you asked with the box in your hand. “Well, it could be considered classical music, don't you think, honey?” you said to the lady, handing her the CD, as she looked at it curiously.

“Spi… Spice…” the lady murmured, looking at the cover.

“Spice Girls, honey, a classic,” you corrected with a smug smile. “This sure lifts my spirits.”

“A classic? It says here that it's from 1996,” Donna protested, frowning as you snatched the box from her, putting the CD in the player. “You could say that it was just yesterday, (Y/N).”

“It's been over 20 years, Donna, so it's classical music,” you joked again, pressing the button. “Hey, Angie, I think you know the first song…”

“Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!” Angie sang as the music started playing, jumping up and down on the floor.

“So tell me what you want, what you really, really want,” you continued, high-fiving the doll, the only one who seemed happy with your choice.

Donna stood with a frown, gently lowering the volume on the player as you sat back down on the couch.

“Ah, much better,” you commented, picking up the book again and looking at the lady over it. “Hey, honey, aren’t you coming?”

“How can you read with this music? It’s impossible,” she said in a slightly childish tone. “Cos’è questo?”

“Music, dolcezza,” you said ironically, shaking your head. “I would have liked to play something more recent, but lately the Duke is short of contraband material.”

“No wonder. This is horrible, they don't even know how to sing,” the lady said, crossing her arms as the music seemed to destroy her ears.

“Donna…” you sighed, rolling your eyes and moving a leg to the rhythm of the music. “Stop complaining and come here.”

“You can't even dance to this,” she protested again, approaching you and glancing sideways at the stereo. “Is this really music?”

“Angie knows how to dance to it,” you said amused, pointing at the doll with your head, a doll that moved to the rhythm of that catchy song.

“Mm,” Donna murmured, letting you sit her down with a quick movement. “No, I can't.”

“Donna, stop fooling around,” you said with a hiss, shaking your head. “You always choose the music.”

“Forgive me for preferring a soft melody with perfectly ordered chords and notes to the screamers of hell,” she protested, getting up again. “This has nothing to do with the true meaning of music. It’s not elegant, they just seem like stupid brainless girls.”

“Maybe they are, but it's cool,” you said distractedly, scratching your hair to try to concentrate on the heavy reading. “Hey, where are you going?”

“To the basement, it's impossible to concentrate here,” the lady explained, disappearing among murmurs in Italian that you initially didn't give importance to.

“As you wish,” you sighed, glancing sideways at the player.

Naturally, Lady Beneviento and you came from very different times. Education, culture, everything was distant, but normally your two worlds coexisted in harmony, like those melodies she liked so much.

However, since you got engaged, you tried to take better care of those kinds of details. You knew Donna loved you. She was the one who wanted to take you as her wife so she would never lose you, but sometimes you wondered if she really bothered to really get to know you.

You didn't know what to do, whether to give in, show yourself as you really were, or pretend a little more. The idea that Donna saw that you were nothing but an ordinary girl with ordinary tastes was disturbing. She was intelligent, complicated, cultured, and you were just a country girl who enjoyed the little things in life, who didn't even bother to wonder about the origin of her existence.

You felt somewhat insecure as the days went by, unable to get along with her refined tastes, with the readings that she was passionate about. Of course none of that seemed like a problem, and maybe you were giving it much more importance than it had, but the expression of weariness, of discomfort with your simple tastes made you see you were wrong.

Donna was a wonderful woman and you were just a simple village girl, would she really still love you when she realized you weren't as cultured as she was?

The question terrified you; it made you stay up at night, it made you change, it made you carefully pretend that you were starting to be interested in such boring things. Being who you weren't wasn’t your favorite way to deal with the problem, but, with a month to go before the wedding your nerves made you make impulsive decisions.

You wanted to make her see that you were just like her, that everything she liked was also your passion. It really was hard, but you managed to fool her for a while, thinking that maybe that way, you would never disappoint her.

How ironic, you were trying to make the lady in black, the disturbed Donna Beneviento, the same one who feared so terribly to lose you, not to leave you.

“What are you doing, tesoro?” the lady asked when she finished with her dolls, finding an almost comical scene in front of her.

“Reading,” you said amused, holding the heavy book while letting the lady kiss your forehead affectionately. “Oh, and you were right, that music of yours is much more relaxing,” you commented satisfied, with the classical chords in the background.

“Mm, well,” Donna said, nodding, resting her head on your shoulder. “What do you think of the book?”

“It's good,” you answered with a fake smile, full of the wisdom you obviously lacked.

“I'm glad,” she sighed, frowning and picking up a cup that was on the table. “Did you drink a whole cup of coffee?”

“Yes, I needed to cheer myself up,” you said, downplaying that slight caffeine overdose. “Maybe I went a little too far.”

“The coffee pot was empty, did you drink it all?” Donna asked, taking your shaking hands. “(Y/N), so much coffee is not good for you.”

“Do you know what's not good?” you asked, closing the book and sensually climbing up the lady's body, with a seductive purr. “Having you so close to me, making my heart beat wildly...”

“That's because of the coffee,” she joked, caressing your legs, which rested on either side of her hips. “Mm, tesoro...”

“Shh, Angie's not here,” you murmured, biting her earlobe. “How about having fun?”

“Sounds good to me,” the brunette sighed, giving herself to your eager lips, moving your body with hers in an erotic dance, anticipating a pleasant afternoon of passion.

“Make me yours, my wife,” you whispered, slowly unbuttoning her dress, abruptly interrupted by the agonizing ringing of the phone. “Oh, it just can't be…”

“Don't pay attention,” Donna said, laughing amused, caught by your desire to love, by the desire to make you hers like only she knew how. “It will stop ringing soon… “

“No, I…” you said, getting off her body with a look of resignation. “You should pick it up, maybe it's Mother Miranda. Don't worry, I'll be waiting.”

Donna nodded, kissing you quickly and getting up with a nervous gasp, taking the phone while you seduced her by getting comfortable on the sofa and biting your lower lip.

“Pronto,” the lady sighed. “Oh, Alcina… yes, well, actually… Oh, well I don’t… Yes, I think it’s a good idea… sure, of course she’ll come, see you later, ciao…”

“Mm?” you murmured with some disappointment when you saw Donna turning back to you while fastening the buttons again. “Alcina?”

“Yes…” she sighed, also frustrated. “She says she wants us to go to the castle for tea.”

“Have you said yes? Donna… I wanted to make love,” you protested, pouting. “Come on, if we hurry we can…”

“Alcina says she has something for us, you know, for the wedding, it’s not right to reject her kindness,” the lady explained, shaking her head. “It’ll just be tea, tesoro, we won’t be long.”

“Well, okay,” you said, defeated. “You are always so polite…”

“I wouldn't want to disappoint the only family I have left,” Donna commented, with a sad tone. “I'm going to get the veil, oh and… get dressed,” she whispered amused, pointing at the underwear that you yourself pulled down to make her more nervous. “You will make me lose my mind.”

“Mm,” you murmured, stealing a seductive kiss from her. “You owe me one, my wife…”

Of course, the best thing about the trips to the castle was the journey itself. Angie made fun of you as you walked hand in hand through the forest, in silence, enjoying the contact of your skin, the tranquility of a life that would only get better.

Alcina Dimitrescu was the eldest of the Lords, and her attitude and behavior were even more refined than the lady in black’s. Her seductive voice, her glances and the conversations that always traveled between art and wine weren’t your perfect plan to spend an afternoon like that, but you couldn't complain, you knew that Donna cared about her.

“Here it is, my dears... it really is hard for me to part with this jewel, but I feel calm knowing that you and your future wife will have it,” the lady of the castle said, pointing to a small painting.

“Wow... it's impressive,” the Angie doll said, shyly approaching the painting. “Picasso?”

“Picasso,” Alcina answered as Donna tilted her head to better observe it. “It's one of my favorite pieces. You know that during the second world war the looting of works of art was pretty common. Poor stupid soldiers, they thought that this place would be ideal to hide it…”

“Was it from some soldiers?” you asked, trying to make sense of that work of art that seemed to fascinate your fiancée. “Wow, I'm sure it's a mind-blowing story.”

“Mm, the story of how it got here is unimportant, dear. Don't you know what you have in front of you?” the lady in white asked, running a hand over your shoulders. “It's real art.”

“Yes, well,” you said with a frown, confused. “To me it looks like some badly done doodles,” you commented by mistake, making the tall woman gasp with irony.

“Doodles?” Alcina asked, while Donna controlled the doll's impulses to touch the painting. “How can you say that?”

“It's what I see,” you murmured, trying to make sense of those messy figures. “Is this really art?”

“Donna, dear,” Alcina said, ignoring your comment and drawing the doll maker's attention. “Your fiancée doesn't seem pleased by my gift.”

“Perché?” your girlfriend whispered, approaching you. “Don’t you like it?”

“Like isn't exactly the word,” you commented, getting a little closer to the painting. “Was that Picasso guy really that important?”

“Well… he really was,” Donna murmured, looking at you and then at the doodles. “It's abstract art, (Y/N), it doesn't have to make sense.”

“Oh,” you said, nodding. “Well, I guess it's okay…”

“But dear, don't you know anything?” Alcina asked, coming closer again. “I see that your knowledge of art is not at all exhaustive.”

“The truth is that I’m not very interested in art,” you confessed with a shy smile. “I don’t understand it and…”

“That’s obvious,” Alcina joked, laughing sinisterly. “Well, it’s not that important, I’m convinced that you have other… virtues.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, a little annoyed by the comment, nervous.

“Oh, nothing, little bird, I’m just saying that Donna has surely seen other things in you,” the lady said, looking at you with bright eyes and a mocking smile. “Mm, I can imagine what kind of things, my dear.”

“Hey, Alcina!” Angie protested. “Stop flirting with my Donna's fiancée.”

“Please…” the lady in white sighed, making Donna suddenly tense up, starting to suffer another attack of jealousy. “She may be beautiful but… well, beauty isn't everything.”

“Um, yes, we better go,” the lady in black said, uncomfortable, just like you, who lowered your head, starting to think about your insecurities again. “We're taking the painting.”

“Oh, no, no, dear,” said Alcina, looking at you out of the corner of her eye with a regretful expression, surely noticing your sadness. “Mother Miranda told me that there are some loose lycans around, it will be better if I send it to your house when that uncomfortable matter is solved.”

“Va bene,” your girlfriend nodded, taking your hand and observing you cautiously. “(Y/N), tutto bene?”

“Um, yes, yes I… I would like to go home,” you said with a broken voice, with your bad thoughts eclipsing your reasoning.

“Of course, um… Thank you Alcina,” Donna said, pulling your hand towards the exit of the castle.

“Little bird…” the vampire interrupted. “I hope I haven't offended you.”

You didn't answer. You looked away and continued walking. There was no more laughter, no more holding hands on the way back.

Your ignorance was something you always tried to hide, something that was natural to you and that seemed to be of no importance to Donna, but after that unpleasant visit to the castle, everything in your mind changed.

Donna Beneviento was a cultured, intelligent woman, passionate about art, and you were a simple villager, a lover of crime novels, short stories that were easy to read. You weren't on her level, no matter how much you tried to pretend otherwise.

As you walked home, you thought about the near future, about what your life would be like after marriage. You loved Donna, you loved her just the way she was, you loved her mind, her intelligence… but she… what was it that she loved about you?

You weren't sure of the answer and your nerves began to tense. You could pretend for a year, two, but no more. You weren't the intelligent and cultured girl that Donna deserved, you were simply nothing compared to her; you had nothing to offer her.

“I'll make dinner, tesoro,” the lady commented when you were back home, taking off her veil with a tender smile. “Hey, amore mio, what's wrong?”

“Donna, I…” you murmured with a sad sigh. “What did you see in me?”

“Cosa? What's that question about?” she asked, frowning. “Oh, you didn't take what my sister said seriously, did you?”

“How can you expect me not to take it seriously? She's right, I'm stupid,” you growled, clenching your fists. “Donna, stop pretending.”

“Pretend? Um, tesoro, I don't know what you're talking about... I told you not to drink so much coffee,” the lady said worriedly, cupping your face in her hands.

You pulled away with a furious gasp, shaking your head.

“It's not the coffee!” you screamed, releasing a pressure in your chest that was already unbearable. “It's not about that Donna, it's about me, about us.”

“(Y/N), you're scaring me...” she sighed, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Calm down, please.”

“No Donna, I'm not calming down... Why? Huh? Why me? Are you so desperate that you'll settle for any stupid girl who's capable of having children? Is that what you want from me? Then what, huh? You'll kick me out of your life because I'm not what you're looking for…”

“You're delirious, I don't know what's wrong with you,” Donna said, very nervous, shaking her head. “Why do you say such horrible things?”

“They're not horrible things, it's reality,” you hissed, pointing at your fiancée in an unpleasant way. “Donna, I hate classical music, Crime and Punishment is a boring book and I have no interest in art…”

“(Y/N), but,” she interrupted, desperate to get you to come back to your senses. “Tesoro…”

“Disappointed? I assumed so…” you whispered with a dark look while Donna was speechless, just shaking her head. “This is me, a stupid and ignorant girl who gets bored with everything you like.”

“That's not bad at all. I don't…” she said, with a marked accent that betrayed her nervousness. “…I don't care about that.”

“You say that now, but…” you said, laughing nervously. “You'll realize that we're from different worlds, that I'm of no use to you and you know what? I should have realized it sooner.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No, Donna,” you said, sobbing and shaking your head. “I'm tired of pretending that I deserve to have your last name when it's not true. You're a wonderful woman, the most wonderful woman I've ever met in my life, but I'm not, I have nothing to offer you…”

“S-Stop… stop… Stop talking nonsense!” Donna shrieked, furious, unable to control her nerves. “What's this about? What have I done wrong? Why do you say those things?”

“You know I'm right,” you hissed, with a much darker voice, glancing sideways at the shiny ring that decorated your finger. “Now you love me, but soon you'll realize that you've wasted your time with me. I'm not what you deserve; I'm not what you're looking for, Donna.”

“How do you know what I'm looking for?” she asked, grabbing your arm. “Why are you torturing me!?”

“Donna, you’re hurting me,” you protested, breaking away from her grip, watching as the lady slowly lost her mind. “It doesn't make any sense for you to get like that when you know it's true.

“It's not true!” she shrieked, kicking childishly. “(Y/N), don't you dare…!”

“Shh, that's it,” you whispered with your voice broken by crying, approaching her cautiously. “Donna, this can't go on like this, I don't want to ruin your life.”

“Ruin my life? P-Please, let's talk things over, you're not thinking clearly,” Donna said, grabbing your hand again, breathing heavily.

“No, honey, no…” you whispered, caressing her hand and bringing the other to the ring, slowly taking it off your finger. “I'll never be able to think clearly.”

“What are you doing? Why…?” Donna asked, looking at the ring already off your finger, a ring you placed in the palm of her hand, closing her fist over it.

“It's okay, I know when to back off,” you sobbed, clenching her fist. “You should give this to a woman who is better than me, a smart girl like you, who deserves to wear it.”

“(Y/N), il tuo anello… put it on, per favore,” she whispered nervously, playing with the jewel, grabbing your hand tightly. “Per favore! Don't do this to me!”

“I'm sorry, darling,” you said with a sore throat, returning the ring to her hand, squeezing it tighter. “I don't deserve you, you should find someone who does.”

“No, no, wait, wait,” the lady said, pulling your wrist as you prepared to leave the mansion. “No…”

“Goodbye, Donna,” you sobbed before turning around and running to the exit, leaving the lady in black paralyzed, dropping the ring, which bounced on the floor.

“What are you doing, silly Donna!? She's leaving, do something!” Angie shrieked, pulling at her dress.

Donna didn't move, she was just sobbing in shock, motionless.

You looked at her one last time and opened the door, leaving her life forever.

“Donna, Donna! You can't let her go! Donna, react!” Angie continued, while her voice became more and more imperceptible. “The lycans, Donna, the lycans…!”

Her screams were barely whispers as you ran through the dark forest, crying panting, having made the hardest decision of your life. No, Donna didn't deserve you, she didn't deserve a brainless girl like you, you would only make her unhappy. You were completely convinced.

The tiredness made you relax your steps, panting and screaming desperately. You had lost the love of your life, and it wasn't because of something you had done, but because of who you really were. She could never love you. She could never love a stupid girl like you, even if she forced herself to do so.

A sinister roar brought your consciousness back for a moment. The place was terribly dark and you lost your bearings. Going back wasn’t an option, but you didn't know what was in front of you, which was the right way after leave the elevator.

“I'm so stupid that I don't even know where...” you lamented, walking until you collided with something hairy, with a horrible creature that made you trip.

Normally, lycans didn't roam the territories of the Lords, but you soon remembered Alcina's warning about some rebellious beasts that escaped Miranda's control.

Your arm hurt and the moisture on your clothes told you that you were bleeding, but that wasn't the worst part, the worst part was seeing how that beast raised its claws before you to tear you apart, giving a pathetic end to your pathetic life.

“Stop!” a voice behind you said, causing the beast to obey and back away in fear.

The dim light of the place illuminated the silhouette of the lady in black, who was slowly approaching, terrifying the lycan just by her mere presence.

“Fuori…” Donna hissed, making the creature whimper, forcing it to protect itself with its claws. “Get out of here!”

The lycan fled, and the lady crouched down next to you, checking your condition.

“(Y/N), parlami, per favore… where did it hurt you?” she asked, being pushed unpleasantly by you, getting up on your own.

“Donna, I'm… I'm fine,” you said, grabbing your injured arm. “I… er… thank you.”

“Amore mio, you're bleeding,” Donna said, holding your arm and taking a look at your wounds. “Come, I have to…”

“No,” you said coldly. “You don't need to take care of me, not anymore,” you said, giving in to crying again, inevitably throwing yourself into her arms. “Donna…”

“Shh, you're very nervous, tesoro, come, let's go home and… I'll heal you and…” she stammered, crying, but keeping her composure better.

Silence. That was the word that best defined that moment. While Donna healed you, you sobbed under her watchful gaze, unable to say anything, unable to stop feeling at ease in what until a while ago, was your home.

“Perché? Perché, (Y/N)?” the lady murmured, wiping the blood from your arm, looking away from you.

“Donna, I've already explained my reasons,” you murmured distractedly, not wanting to go back. “Thank you for healing me, but I'll leave as soon as you do.”

“You can't…” she sighed, closing her eye to keep calm. “You can't just leave like that, without giving me a reason. You’re breaking my heart…”

“I'm sorry, but it's for the best, I love you too much to let you waste your time on me,” you said with a broken voice, but firm in some way. “Donna I... I'm not like you. You're a cultured, intelligent woman and I... I'm just a stupid village girl who likes to listen to stupid songs and read books that could be for children. I'm not what you think.”

“But you are what I want,” she murmured, bandaging your wound delicately. “Do you really think I want a pedantic girl like my sister by my side? No, (Y/N)…”

“It's what you deserve,” you sobbed again, pulling your arm away.

“You're just talking nonsense, (Y/N), I love you just the way you are. I would never pretend to change you, I... (Y/N), tesoro, you have to believe me. I'm not looking for anything because I've already found it, I've found you…” Donna sighed, lifting your chin. “You are the love of my life, the one I want to be my wife, my family.”

“You've chosen wrong,” you said with a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “I'm just a stupid girl.”

“You're wrong, (Y/N),” the lady hissed, darkening her gaze. “Do you think a person's intelligence is measured by their knowledge of art or literature? No, tesoro…”

“Well, but…”

“No, now you're going to listen to me. You're not stupid. Just, just look at everything you've done during all this time. I would never have been able to fix the record player, or the projector… (Y/N), you bought the Duke a broken device and fixed it, you made it work again as it were magic…”

“Not that…”

“Taci,” she interrupted, with a brusque tone, cupping your face in her hands. “You are capable of much more than you think, of things that I would never be capable of, never… You say you are stupid for not knowing anything about art, for considering a complicated book boring, but that’s not true.”

“Donna, I…” you tried to say, silenced by a finger on your lips.

“Amore mio, you are intelligent, much more than me in many ways. You are funny, decisive and have an amazing capacity for deduction, or do you forget that you never finish any of your detective stories?”

“Well, that’s because…” you explained somewhat confused, relaxing the demons that were hovering in your mind.

“Because you know the ending before reading it. That is intelligent, tesoro, those are your abilities, just because they are not the same as mine doesn’t mean they are insignificant,” she said, with a desperate smile, trying to make you reason, starting to achieve it. “I fell in love with you just the way you are, I love you just the way you are…”

“But Donna, I…” you protested unsurely, beginning to give in to her pleasant words. “I don't think that… that I can contribute anything, I…”

“(Y/N), you are the missing part of my boring existence, you are that joy that lights up my life. Please, don't abandon me because without you… without you, art would cease to be…”

“That's very nice,” you said while blushing, letting be guided by her hand until her lips rested on yours with a soft and salty kiss, an intense, deep love kiss…

“Hey, hey, hey!” interrupted Angie, comically separating you by giving something to Donna, something that made her look at you sadly. “You dropped this, silly Donna, why don't you put it back in its place?”

She sighed, looking at the ring Angie gave her and gently grabbing your hand.

“(Y/N), sposami…” she asked in a soft voice. “Don't leave me alone, don't let me get lost without you because… because without you I'm nothing…”

“Donna…” you said, letting the ring slide back down your finger, starting to get rid of the bad thoughts in your mind, realizing that deep down you knew she was right, that intelligence wasn't measured by tastes, but by many other things.

“Donna, I love you… of course I'll marry you…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

41 notes · View notes