#there's like several parts to this story lol it's gonna cover all the way to the end of the war

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part I

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Summary: Y/N kept being reincarnated into the world for seemingly endless of lifetimes with the lasting, vivid memories of her past lover during the 40's, Sargent James B. Barnes. While she thought this was a 'punishment' for her sins, she was also unknowingly oblivious to the fact that James was still alive somewhere, almost forever frozen in the time.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 6.5k++ (hella long bc lots to cover in the story building part)

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: just slow induced angst for your daily consumption (i guess?) It has a hopeful ending so don't let the first warning chase you away. reincarnation concept. an attempt to follow exact mcu timeline (forgive if i'm wrong at certain parts). slight religious contents. grief & loss. graphic violence. deaths. mention of suicide. a lot of reader's pov, story building > dialogs (sorry guys).

P/S: Another impulsive writing from me y'all. I hope you don't get bored of this tendency of mine lol. I just need to let the fantasies out before it consumes me. So... anyway, it's gonna be another 3 parts fic cause for the love of god, I cannot commit for more :') Also, my first attempt of writing 40's bucky!!! I'm honestly scared. I hope you like it!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Italy, 1943 – His return

If there was one thing that Bucky should have expected when he decided to be in a relationship with Y/N was it would be that he had to accept her for who she was; stubborn, clumsy, bold, clever, sweet and most certainly the prettiest dame he ever met.

He might have unknowingly signed up for it the moment he quite literally fell for her at one of those Stark's science expo. Bucky had been stealing glances at this one pretty lady in the crowd; adored in soft mint dress that falls right below her knees.

It wasn't even a scandalous dress to wear in public but somehow Bucky was more than ecstatic to marvel at her beauty. There was no such thing as a too long of a stare, especially when she laughed like that; throwing her head in amusement, the loose strands of her curls fall back across her shoulders as they slightly shook to the rhythm of her laughter.

A careless misstep – that Bucky could see from a mile away – had caused her to stagger backwards and twisted her ankle into an inevitable fall. Somehow, Bucky managed to slither his way through the crowd towards her, almost jumping forward to catch her before she landed on the ground.

Not only that he was the one who fell first, but he also fell hard.

So, it was expected that Bucky knew what he had got himself into. At least, that was what Y/N had been repeating in her head to convince herself for what she had done. Now that she was sitting at the back of the wobbly military truck, the fear had slowly started to seep into her, causing shivers to crawl all over her nerves.

Y/N just knew it in her guts that Bucky would be absolutely furious when he sees her but what does he expect her to do when she hadn't receive any letters from him for months now. So, when she heard that they needed more medic volunteers at the Italy base, she signed up without thinking twice about it.

"There has been a recent attack on the 107th. Too many casualties and much more whose heavily injured. You might have your hands full the moment you arrive to the base. There are few rules..." The lieutenant's voice was as rigid just as his demenour when he continued to inform the situation to the troops of medical staff.

No matter how much she wanted to pay attention to his words, Y/N couldn't help but to tune in only at his first few sentences. Casualties and heavily injured. Her hands moved to search for the cross pendent hanging from the necklace around her collarbone, gripping it tight as she prayed that her lover was not categorized under any of those dire circumstances.

What the lieutenant said in that truck could never be more true; as the moment they stepped into the medic tent, Y/N and the others were quickly pulled to assist the fallen men. It was truly heartbreaking and horrid to witness the dreading truth behind what the public posed as the "heroes of the country".

Surely they were proud to fight for the nation but then again no human being should ever had to suffer the consequences of war; not the civilians and certainly not the soldiers.

After seemingly hours of continuous stitching, wrapping and patching up; surrounded sound of groaning pain and the endless cycle of inhaling the distinct scent of fresh blood, burned flesh and the bitter of anticeptic odor; the injured soldiers were finally taken care of and had been put to rest.

Y/N looked around the tent, noting the unorganized mess around the patients; the result of the panic and chaos of the whole situation. A thought came to her mind, she might need to do some cleaning up before writing down medical record for each one of the patients.

That was when the lieutenant entered into the tent, and his stern gaze swiftly analyzed the much calmer scene, "Thank you for your service, everybody. I assume the soldiers are stabilized?"

"Yes, sir." One of the battalion doctor replied as he approached, while the rest of the team watched from where they stood.

The lieutenant simply nodded, "Good." He paused for awhile and looked around,  "Now, have any of you met Captain America before?"

There were bunch of no's murmured around the medical staff, some of them just shook their head as an answer and the lieutenant nodded again, "Well, I guess you are all just darn lucky cause he's here to perform. You are invited to come and join the others to watch, if you want to." He informed.

"Steve's here?" She thought to herself.

As the lieutenant continued to explain some things about accommodation, food and medical supplies, Y/N's head were filled with thought that her dear friend, Steve.

"I wonder if he gotten any words from James."

"Maybe he got letters from him?"

"Or could it be that he was here to find James too?

There were so many questions kept circulating in her head that by the time she snapped out of them, the lieutenant was already long gone and some of the volunteers went out to untangle themselves from the hours of stressful tension.

As a nurse herself, she felt the need to take care of her patients and finish her job before anything else. So, she started to clean up the shredded clothes, bloodied guazes and the other medical tools that needed to be sterilized and put away.

By the time she finished, it finally dawned to her that there was no trace of Bucky in the medic tent. Which means he didn't fall into the heavily injured category. So, there was two left; the one she prayed for and the other that dreaded her to even think about.

Y/N quickly made her way towards the tent where she can find the soldier in charge. However, if she was focused during one of the lieutenant's speech in the truck, she would've heard that she and the others were not authorized to enter certain parts of the base, which include the higher ups' tents.

When she was turned down by the soldiers, she sadly walked away towards the main area where Steve was supposed to perform. The drag of her feet across the dusty sand was heavy; but no more heavier than the burden in her heart.

She watched as her black pump shoes gradually covered with light sand. Finding it odd that a few weeks ago she was standing on the shiny tile of a hospital in Brooklyn and now she was halfway across the world in the middle of the chaos of a war.

The things she'd do for love.

Soon enough, the dry ground was wet from the sudden down pour, turning it into a murky soggy path. Y/N quickly ran towards the main area; where apparently the show was long over. "Did I missed Steve?" She thought as she stepped into the tent where the performers supposed to be.

The tent turned out to be empty as she suspected. There was only the sound of drizzling raindrops above it was left behind.

She looked around the area and saw the costumes for the performers were still there; the pleated white and red skirt hanging on the rack, white gloves clipped with them, the captain's shield with notes sticking at the back of it and the iconic blue helmet-mask plastered with the obvious letter of A.

She peeked a little to the right only to see Steve hunched down on the floor, curling into himself just as he always did back when he was left beaten up in the alleyway somewhere in Brooklyn.

A thought passed through her mind; maybe the upgrade of his size doesn't really change his habits.

Y/N walked closer to see him holding his sketchbook on one hand and another was a pencil pressing across the paper. The tip scribled up and down, lining the drawing of a monkey on a unicycle. "I guess the serum does not amplify your art skills huh, Stevie?" she teased as she approached the blonde man.

Steve lifted up his head as he turned towards the familiar voice, "y/n?" His face lit up as he recognized her face. He stood on his feet and pulled her into a tight hug, "It's so good to see you." He sighed, he haven't seen her since his departure to be paraded around the world as the 'symbol of freedom'.

He clearly remembers what he wrote in the letter regarding her wish to volunteer as a medic for the war; practically begging her to not do this and stay home.

But alas, it took awhile for him to process it but when it came to him, he gently pushed her away, "Wait.. what are you doing here?" His brows creased into a worried frown.

Y/N simply smiled as she responded, "They needed help, so I volueentered."

Steve shook his head in disbelief, "I know that." He sighed as a frown deepened across his feature, "Bucky made me promise not to let you do stuff like this."

In which Y/N countered, "And he remind you not to do anything stupid until he get back; so..." she purposely trailed her words for him to draw the conclusion on his own.

He let out a long sigh before concluding, "Bucky's gonna kill us."

Since, Bucky was in the topic, Y/N wanted to take the oppurtunity to asked Steve about him, "About that, have you heard--"

A woman's voice came from her back, cutting in between her words, "Steve?"

Steve nervously distance himself from Y/N as he shyly greeted the brunette, "Hi."

The woman continued to stare at Y/N trying to figure out her role and relationship to Steve but before she could get any strange idea, he quickly introduced her, "This is y/n. She's a good friend of mine at home."

A spark of realization glint through her eyes "I see. I'm Peggy. Nice to meet you." She extended her hand towards Y/N, in which she gladly shook it in hers as she reintroduced herself, "You too. I'm y/n."

After the brief exchange of smile between the two ladies, Steve continued to ask Peggy, "What are you doing here?"

Peggy sighed as she explained, "Officially, I'm not here at all." She paused as she picked her words, "I just came by to oversee the situation after the recent attack."

Although Y/N knew what Peggy meant, she was one of the medic staff that had been stitching up the aftermath of that attack after all. However, Steve on the other hand seemed to be lost.

Peggy further explained, "Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano, more than 200 men went up against him and less than 50 returned." She paused, "Your audience contained what's left of the 107th."

Steve's blues widen in realization that almost looked much like panic, "The 107th?"

"What?" Peggy prompt quickly.

Steve then turned his head to Y/N, "Bucky?" He questioned shortly.

But even she was hoping that he'll know something about Bucky, apparently she was wrong, "I tried to ask but I'm not authorized to enter the tent. I was hoping you heard from him."

Seeing the panic in Steve's eyes, she knew that her lover was no where near the safety that she prayed for. But before fear could set in, Steve sprinted out of the tent, "Come on!" he shouted as Y/N and Peggy ran closely behind him.

When they arrived to the tent, fortunately they had the permission to enter with the help of Peggy. "Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?" Colonel Philips greeted in a teasing manner.

Steve didn't even bother to greet the colonel as he demanded, "I need the casualty list from Azzano." In which the Philips responded, "You don't get to give me orders, son."

Knowing that arguments won't help the situation, he control his tone of voice and spoke, "I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th." He took a short breath and insisted, "Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

Colonel Phillips stood on his feet as he walked towards a table behind him, "I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count." He paused before turning around to eye on Steve and briefly on the very worried looking nurse next to him.

"But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." There was a flash of sincerity in his eyes when he looked towards Y/N.

The optimistic Steve continued to insist more about other possibilities than casualties, "What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" They went back and forth about the what is the 'right' thing to do, "Yes, it's called 'winning the war'. "

And suddenly sound of the heavy rain fall was all Y/N could hear, then comes the booming of her heartbeat as the panic started to deprive her of any optimism; clouding her judgment to think of anything near to positive outcomes such as Steve.

It was getting harder to breath and the anxiety slowly choked her from within, forcing tears to pool in her eyes. Peggy swiftly took a hold on Y/N, before her knees managed to fall to the ground. The muffled sound of Peggy's voice managed to come through but not enough to wake her from the despair.

Before she knew it, Steve was already gone for an unauthorized rescue mission with the help from Peggy. And ever since, Y/N had spend every waking moment digging her knees into the uneven ground under her tent. Her elbows were bruised from how hard she propped them on the steel edge of the army green cot. Her palms almost dented to shape of the silver cross as she desperately squeeze it between her hold.

She prayed and prayed for his return. For both of her dearest to be safe, to find their way home.

Every part of her body was numb and all she hoped for was to have her prayers be answered. And it seems like God heard her whispers of the night.

Like the others, Y/N was drawn to the commotion as the crowd was getter louder. At first she noticed a few, then the circle of soldiers were geting thicker when the survivors joined the rest of them. There were chantings of "Captain America" that echoed throughout the base and that gave her relief to know that Steve was safe.

But it was not enough to tame her anxiousness. Y/N's focus has never been sharper when her eyes scanned the crowd, she slithered her way between the jumping joy of the soldiers, grabbing onto some men who she mistook as Bucky; until she saw him.

Her heartbeat ramped increasingly as she pushed through the soldiers, finding strength from the blood pumping excitement when she recognize those steel blues and that cheeky smile. Not long before she managed to grab onto his hand and pulled his attention to her.

It was brief but he knew that face anywhere; and suddenly his whole body was engulf into a familiar tight hug that he thought he could never be able to feel again. "James." her voice stuttered even if it was just one word that came out of her lips.

"y/n?" Bucky called her name, almost in disbelief.

God, she never knew that she was able to miss his voice this much.

"Doll, what you doing here?" He gently lead her away, which she reluctantly followed, "I'm here for you." There was no need of lies now that Bucky was here in her arms.

His gaze soften with a mix of concern and joy, "What do you mean you're here for me?" Bucky couldn't help but to let out a short laugh, "Sweetheart, you do realized that you're in the middle of a warzone?" His brows quirked as he reminded.

Y/N rolled her eyes. Of course, she realized that. The moment she saw that form for the volunteer enlistment, she already knew that. But, it didn't stop her to sign up, does it?

She laced her fingers into his, "I didn't come all the way here to fight with you, James." she whispered as she leaned closer, "So, please just shut up and kiss me."

Bucky might have just realized it now; what a stubborn, demanding, crazy little lover got himself. Though at the same time, he had never been more charmed.

Bucky sighed in defeat before running his tongue on his lower lip, "Well then, come here you little minx" he took her by the head and gave her the most desperate yet sweetest kiss she could never forget.

Brooklyn, 1944 – Promises, promises

It was the day that Steve, Bucky and the rest of the Howling Commandos were depolying to the Austrian Alps for one of the biggest mission since Captain's impulsive rescue mission in Italy last year.

Apparently, Zola was on the move and predicted to be passing though the location while travelling on a train.

This wasn't the first time she had sent Bucky away, but the fear of each departure always felt like it was her first; especially when she thought about the promise of death that's chained to a soldier's fate.

The closer the time of departure, the stronger her grip on Bucky's uniform becomes. And Bucky didn't need to say anything because he knows her too well; she won't take any of his sweet words as a cure for her distress.

Instead, Bucky slowly swayed her from side to side as their embrace tightens with need; her face hidden in the crook of his neck while his arms secured around her waist. He had to smile as it reminded him of their late night dance, barefoot on the kitchen floor of his tiny apartment.

He could feel the teasing gaze coming from his back as well as the whistles of the Howling Commandos playfully making fun of him. Bucky was also well aware of the fact that everyone had made theirs bets on when will the Sargent James B. Barnes finally get down on his knees for his little nightingale of a nurse.

Unsurprisingly, Steve might just win the bet afterall. That punk just had know everything about him.

Y/N snuggled closer into him, "Come home to me, James." She whispered against his skin before pulling away. Teary eyes threatened to spill its salty liquid as she looked up at him, "Promise me."

Bucky's charming smile lighten his features as he leaned to press a kiss in her forehead, "I promise."

Brooklyn, 1945 – Loved and lost

Months gone by, entered the new year, and it always felt like eternity for Y/N. She spent nights kneeling next to her bed and days on the church's floor; practically begging to God for the life of her lover, for keeping him away from death.

And the letters from Bucky also come and goes within those few months' time, with his promises of coming home; laced in the words of his longing and love for her.

But, little did she knew, that promise met it's end of the bargain when the dreaded letter came to her hands. It came from the man she met back in Italy base, Colonel Phillips, sending the words of condolences for the death Sargent James B. Barnes during his honourable mission at the Austrian Alps.

But the first time she read to words, it didn't even register in her head. It was as if her brain failed to translate the text; unable to make it so she understood what they meant. Y/N had been re-reading the same lines over and over and over until it finally clicked.

The usually bright eyes of hers were now slowly filled with tears, she was in the state of shock; that even if her brain knew exactly what had happened but her heart wasn't ready for it. 

The tears started to fall down onto the letter. Drip by drip. And all of the sudden she lost every word that she could ever think of. Her silent scream; suffocating her with each breath she took desperately gripping onto the fragile piece of paper, holding it to her chest hold as if that would help to ease the pain in her heart.

Y/N could feel it in her ripping guts. How all the threads of every joyful memories she could ever once recall; they unraveled in a way that broke her to pieces until they were all but a rumpled of strings scattered about her feet.

A sharp fall had forced Y/N down to her knees, skin digging into the hard floor as her hands trembled silently, clutching onto the letter.

At first when she opened her mouth, there was not a single sound came out as her breath ripped from her lungs. Each left her with scars of loss and every waking minute in this reality was just pure pain.

Her body bend forward until her forehead meets the cold floor; that was when she wailed – an agonizing scream that left a haunting memory to the neighbours around her apartment.

She cried like there was too much raw pain inside that she could never contained. She cried like her soul needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release a loathful rage on the world. 

But it was more than just crying, it was the sobbing of a woman that drained of all hope. She sank on floor, willing herself to be swallowed by the dread and loss. Just screaming out the agonies that been dancing across her vulnerable veins. 

Her chest violently quivered as she was desperately trying to catch the air. She collected every last energy that she had to call out the name of the lover she had loss, "James.." Her gasping breath whispered against the floor, "You promised." 

A month later the nation celebrate to the announcement to the end of a war, but to Y/N it was just another wave of mourning grief to a loss of another precious person in her life; Steve.

Amidst the loud sound of cheering and laughter, she rushed away from the crowd to the place that she had put all her faith into. Stumbling through the empty church and falling at the feet of Jesus' statue, Y/N looked up at the face of God; not with her usual admiration but instead with so much loath, rage and despair.

The night sky was brighten to the flashing light from the firework but all she could think of was how similar the sound of it to a firing canon in the war.

And the thought of Bucky and Steve run through her mind.

She had been nothing but faithful to the lord, religiously prayed for no more than saving the life of people she held dear to her heart.

But, God thought it would be merciful to let them die.

Y/N harshly ripped the cross necklace from her neck, tearing her skin apart in the process. She gripped on the cross in her hands, much like she would few months back but for completely different reason.

The crimson of her blood tainted the white collar of her nurse uniform as she she cursed the all mighty God for what he had done. Ever since, she swore to herself to never be naive to the illusion of God's mercy ever again.

Washington D.C., 2014 – An old friend

Fate is full with irony and God has his way of twisting them for his own pleasure.

When Y/N died in the 60's, old and unmarried, even if she doesn't believe in God anymore, her dying wish was to be able to meet her lover and friend again.

At least one more time.

But lo and be hold, he had different plans for her. Y/N's body did die that night on the hospital bed but her soul never did. It was as if she was woken up from sleep in another body with the same face as her, that's when she realized she has been reincarnated.

Apparently, she was only born in the same family lineage as her original life; whether coming from her younger brother or cousin or anyone related back to her bloodline. And sharing even the tiniest amount of blood of her own, triggers every single memory from her previous life.

This wasn't what she wanted.

She didn't want to live knowing she cannot be with Bucky.

So on the second life, she did the unthinkable. She took her own life, thinking that she would finally leave the world behind but she didn't.

It happened again.

And again.

And again.

So, when she reached her sixth life, she realized that she will never able to meet James and Steve ever again; that was when she went rogue.

Her sixth life was filled with rage and vengeance; to the point that she took the idea of life very lightly. So, instead of living until the old days, she searched for revenge and got herself tragically killed in the process.

Now, the 18 year old Y/N was in her seventh life, with a new name that was given by her seventh parents, "Evelyn" , and the spitting image of her first life. From her dark raven hair to the light brown of her eyes. This time, she decided to try to accept the cruel fate; the cursed that God had placed on her for the sin that she made decades ago.

Y/N walked around the Smithsomian Museum, specifically at the American history section where they put up Captain America's exhibit. It's been how many lifetimes since she surround herself with knowledge of a past that she once lived.

This was the first time, since her first life. And most probably the last time since she was going overseas in a week to continue her studies in Asia.

She walked along the line up display of the Howling Commandos suits, remembering the living flesh of them as she took steps forward to each, stopping in front of Bucky's.

Flashes of him appeared to where the figure stood; the memories was so vivid that she could still feel fabric of his suit against her, the electrifying feeling on his skin on her own.

She ripped her gaze away just to be greeted by the portrait of Bucky, plastered so huge and proud on the memorial of one of the Howling Commandos section. Despite the cracking of her heart, her body move on its own; as they knew that deep down, Y/N's heart will always be yearning for her lover.

Her gaze soften with longing and nostalgic as she slowly blink at his features. His considerably messy hair, that little frown that he does to act mysterious for the ladies, and the thin layer of beard that she loved to leave her lipstick marks on.

Y/N's daydream were cut short when someone pulled her by the arm, startling her into a defensive mode. Her sixth life's habit almost broke through when she nearly flipped the man on the floor but thankfully she stopped herself as she recognized those blue eyes.

The man's face looked pale like he had seen a ghost, as he uttered a name that she haven't heard for decades, "y/n?"

"Steve..." she called his name wordlessly.

She knew he was alive. Everybody does.

When the news came out in 2011, she was merely a 15 year old kid back then. Apparently, the super soldier serum helped him to survive the ice.

She remembered how her parents rushed to her room when they heard the sudden cluttering sounds of panic upstairs, only to find their daughter on the floor looking pale while her cup of iced coffee spilling in all over her study desk as the viral youtube video of Captain America running through New York city barefoot playing on the screen of her computer.

She remembered the feeling of both disbelief and joy that rushed through body as her parents helped her to sit up on her bed. The moment that it sunk into her head, she began to cry. Streams of joyful tears broke from her shaky body, each drop washed the painful burden in her heart as her parents lulled her to sleep.

Y/N never made an effort to meet him after knowing truth. Because who would believe her?

She wasn't Steve.

There wasn't any super soldier serum in her blood. There wasn't any tank of chemical that drown her with power.

She was cursed and now she had to live with it.

Meanwhile, Steve seemed to be trapped in a spiralling confusion of his own. He examined each of her features and he had not a single doubt that she has the same face to an old friend in the 40's.

The same friend that he knew died of old age in the 60's.

But, how come the person managed to have the exact same face to hers. Now that he looked closer, she was younger than the last time he saw Y/N.

She looked like she was in her late teens, "Are you really y/n?" His voice was soft as he muttered.

Y/N bit the insides of her cheeks, holding back the urge of telling him the truth, "Sorry, I think you got the wrong person." she tried to untangle his grasp around her arm.

Even her voice was similar to Y/N, and she was looking at Bucky's photo like she knew him.

How could she say that she's was not Y/N?

Steve reluctantly let go of her arms and took a step away after seeing the distress on her face, "I-I'm sorry. You remind me of someone I know." He couldn't take his eyes off her.

She was just too similar looking to someone precious that he left behind.

"It's okay, sir." She smiled gently, like the way she usually does when Steve apologizes for his impulsiveness of picking a fight in alleyways. She looked up to the taller man as she continued, "Thank you for being alive..." she hesitated to call him by his name so instead she called for his other name, "...Captain."

She thanked him sincerely before walking away, leaving Steve to reminisce the memories of his life with Y/N and Bucky as he stared at Bucky's memorial.

The next week, she left the United States for Asia where she planned to spend 4 years studying at the National University of Singapore, leaving her past behind in hopes of moving forward with her life, refusing to care about the avengers shenanigans anymore, including her dear friend, Steve.

New York, 2018 – New norms

When half of the population was wiped out from the earth, two of them was Y/N's parents. And like every other people who had lost their loved ones during the blip, her parents sudden absence truly take a toll on her, especially when she was planning to live a long life with them.

After graduating and getting a decent job in Singapore, she was forced to go back to New York when it happened. Y/N couldn't just let her childhood house left abandoned, she simply can't let that happen.

You would thought a person who had multiple lifetimes would be used to losing someone they love but no. It only gets worst as the years go by.

The more Y/N tried to fit into the new norms, the more that she could feel herself slipping into old habits of her sixth life.

Until that one drunken night when she visited the Smithsomian Museum again after years of forcing herself to forget about him; it took her one look at the potrait of Bucky, she knew what she had to do.

Germany, 2023 – An old nemesis

Nearly 5 years into the blip and Y/N was already becoming a legend in the underground scene. They called her the Deathstalker. She never really knew the origin of it but nevertheless she chooses to stick with the newly founded identity.

With the skills she picked up on her sixth life, she easily became the most deadly assassin in the business. Seemingly in a constant competition of reputation with the highly popular, black widow assassins.

Though she couldn't care less about who was winning the battle, she only cares about tracking anything or anyone related to Hydra.

After that fateful night at the museum, she couldn't help but to think that this must be her calling.

If the curse made her technically immortal, then why not became the hunter destined to slay the monster. They said that Hydra will never die, but so was she. And if anything good came out from this curse, then she might as well use it to avenge Bucky.

And bring the old nemesis to the ground.

Her sixth life was similar to this but she wasn't going to make the same mistake. The flaming greed to have her revenge was too strong back then, it lead her to be hasty and clumsy, which then let her to an early death.

But, she's grown out of those immaturity.

Nowadays, she takes her time and still get the job done flawlessly. Just like she is now, when the soft but dark sound of her chuckle, interrupted the silence that had claimed the room.

The poor man was sitting limp on the chair with his body tied with it. He had been like this for seemingly hours with a knife in one of his thighs, which trembled with the vibrations of his body.

More so, when Y/N twisted them, causing a keen of pain to clawed up his throat and spilled out a hoarse groan.

"Where is it?" Her fingers wrapped around the handle, as she watched the man tossed his head, more with fear than trying to answer.

"I don't like to repeat myself." Y/N slid the blade free, causing a noise he would not forget. The man sagged against his bonds, panting as he watched the blood surged and dribbled out of the wound.

But then he felt the prick against his other leg, wide eyes turning to watch as the knife was held above his skin, Y/N's hand flat against the top, ready to push in. "Where the fuck is it?" her tone was eerie as the voice changer in her mask produced an emotionless robotic effect on it.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The thick german accent seethed through his voice as he grunted in pain.

There was only boredom in Y/N's eyes as she gazes straight into his. A stab of the knife went through his thigh without a warning, until the tip of it almost met the flat surface of the chair beneath it.

The whole room echoed with the sound of the whimpering and cries of his struggle, "Please, I swear to God I don't know what you're talking about." He pleaded as fast as he can, when he felt the shortage of breaths in his lungs due to dealing with the excruciating pain.

"Playing dumb isn't going to help you, mutt." She twisted the knife, pulled out and stabbed it again causing him to fall into an almost delirious state, "Please, please please, I swear I don't know anything about the serum." He blurted out of misery.

There it was.

The thing she wanted to hear.

Y/N's eyebrow quirked in interest, "I never mentioned the serum in our conversation, no?"

He fucked up.

He knew that he fucked up.

But, does it matter when his body was searing in pain?

By the end of the intense interrogation, Y/N finally got the intel she needed to find and destroy whatever was left behind by Wilfred Nagel, who was recruited by the CIA to recreate the super soldier serum.

Those greedy fuckers just cannot stay away from things that shouldn't be meddled with. Even Y/N could see the potential threats of a successful recreation the super soldier serum; they were practically asking for Hydra to revive to its glory days.

And she would not allow that to happen.

She needed to destroy it before its finished.

A loud wail left the man's lips, almost sounded a little strained as he had been screaming in pain for hours. Y/N mercilessly grabbed him by his sweaty chin as she pried his mouth open. Knowing exactly what was coming, the man begged, "Oh lord, please please help me please."

Leaning closer she coldly spoke, "The gods doesn't care about you. Trust me I've been there." With a swift strike, she forced her knife down his throat, and a splash of red tainted her mask, nearly got into her eyes but she managed to blink before it does.

She stood still as she watched him gurgle on his own blood as death collected his soul. Wiping the blood away from her eyelid, she walked out of the abandoned building with a mission to finish; all the while blissfully oblivious to the war that the avengers were fighting to their death on the other side of the world.

Madripoor, 2024 – The most prized asset

The returned of her parents were as sudden as the lost. Though she was glad that they were back, however she had to live a double life now that they kept asking about her job and personal life as they wanted to catch up for the lost of time in 5 years.

Y/N felt bad for lying to her parents but it was for their own good. Now, that she had sent them to a honeymoon to travel all over Europe, she felt better in pursuing her mission without concerns.

Besides the joyful return there was also the awful ones.

Now, that Wilfred Nagel was back from the blip. The serum was perfected to its finest version. And was stolen by bunch of kids protesting for equal rights.

What a fucking mess that was.

But, she would deal with that later. The main focus right now was to find the man itself. There would be no more serums if the source is eradicated.

That was her priority.

With her face hidden behind her signature mask, Y/N walked through the messy crowd as she searches for Shelby's men. This should be a short meeting, since Shelby and her had history together; or more to a favour that she owns to Y/N.

However, when she tried to tune in into the hushed conversations in the crowd, she noticed that the murmurs seemed to be divided into two hot topics; one about the sudden appreance of the Deathstalker, which was herself, and second was surprisingly about the return of another notorious assassin. 

Then when the conversations died down, a fight suddenly broke out. Y/N hold on the handle of her blades from the side of her thighs, as she stiffed into a defensive mode.

While on the other hand, the crowd seemed to be more interested in recording the fight, than avoiding it.

She seemlessly weaved her way through the people, only to see that the action ended with a man choked onto the bar table. The was attacker's face turned away from her, she could only see his figure from the back.

Then, a gleam of gold caught her attention, Y/N squinted her eyes as she analyzed the man's left arm.

It was not the pattern of the sleeve from his suit.

It was his arm.

A black bionic arm.

Which reminded of her of someone she came across in her sixth life; but his arm was a tin foil silver with a red star on his upper side. At the time, he was Hydra's most prized asset, they called him the Winter Soldier.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: yes, I am well aware that left y'all hanging but I still hope you enjoy this one. Tell me what you think so far, I'm curious if y'all cry at the part where she received the letter or maybe you can comment of something else, I'd still love to hear them ♡

[thehistoriangirl]

If You Hadn't Left (Me) [Chapter 1]

I thought I would start posting in the first of February but oh well better now than never lol

I'm gonna post the other fic's masterlist tomorrow I think :3

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----2.9K----SFW*

// M A S T E R L I S T

Next ->

Synopsis:Viktor was never supposed to see you again, just like you had promised that evening when you both ended up heartbroken and bitter toward destiny and all its twisted ways. So twisted as to put you back into his life not only as a temporal working partner to cover Jayce’s absences, but also as the maid of honor in the wedding where he’ll be the best man. Hypothetically, it doesn’t have to be that difficult to find a way around the river of memories flowing between you both. Though, of course, hypotheses are flawed. Just like that part of him that still craves another ending to this story. 

Tags: Second Chance | Angst | Exes to Lovers | Denial of Feelings | Viktor's horny down memory lane* | Reader is pissed | My man is going thru the stages of grief | MelJay bc Jayce deserves to be happy | Eventual Smut | Eventual Happy Ending |

Taglist c: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @blissfulip

That goodbye became a broken promise, cracked over the sound of your voice ever since he heard it at the Council assembly.

Sure, you had spat out the words fueled by betrayal and hatred, but Viktor took them like an oath to put in peace his stormy mind.

First coated in a lie so fragile Viktor was surprised it hadn’t fragmented before, and now this—he was sure he shouldn’t take another glass of wine from the walking waiters zigzagging across the opulent hall—but he had avoided you all night, and he knew Jayce wouldn’t let him go before arranging the “formal meeting” between both of you.

If only he knew...

We congratulate Miss Favred for winning the design contest for the new hall construction inside the Museum of Sciences and Technologies. Graduated from Piltover’s Academy with honors, you're the proof that progress and art are held hand in hand in this city.

Almost the same speech Heimerdinger delivered during your graduation ceremony, only that this time you were all alone on the stage, Viktor's hand grabbing his cane to not feel the growing sensation of emptiness.

Part of him thought it was mere shock. After all, you haven't seen each other in almost ten years; and a petty part of him was surprised he even remembered you, how the image of you was locked in the depths of his subconsciousness that only needed the ring of your greeting to resurface.

But now? Hours after the reencounter? He was so, so weak…

With a sigh, Viktor finally admitted it: stealing glimpses of your purple dress flowing against the gentle breeze was a weakness, though if the excuse lay in masochist interest or avid curiosity, Viktor wasn’t ready to clear his mind. Why would he, anyway? It was a couple of wine glasses too late.

Funny how some things defied the City of Progress where everyone was eagerly grasping the tomorrow.

Viktor just felt stuck in the past, down a path he wasn’t so sure how to slip through.

Your hair was the same, richly stylized and decorated with a geometrical headpiece that looked like a crown from Viktor’s angle. Your time in Shurima had replaced the Piltovan style built by several layers of clothes like vests and corsets for simple, airy fabrics that played with transparencies. The deep shade of violet pooled in continuous drapes ironed in the long skirt falling freely around your hips and down your legs, a gold-threaded corset hugged your waist and framed your bosom, the fabric slowly fading into a lavender tone held like loose sleeves with golden bracelets.

You were covering your mouth while your eyes closed in amused crinkles for whatever the young merchant Mauriel Garfen was telling you as his expert hand twirled you around the ballroom. It didn’t matter much, as Viktor could paint it just fine: with the vivid dark pink adorning your lips, though he knew your favorite color was more of a burnt brown, or maybe even red—

"That's enough for today," Viktor mumbled, eyes looking intently at the crimson liquid as he swirled the stem around his fingers before settling it down against the nearby windowsill.

Suddenly, he heard your happy squeal as you went to hug another young woman dressed in a vivid teal, halter dress. Her curly black hair bounced as you two swayed. Viktor didn’t remember her vividly, but she had been one of your friends ever since your undergraduate years.

If only… Though he knew he didn’t have any right to be greeted as warmly. If even he had any right to be greeted at all. Only because you had returned. Because of course, you did.  Once you had told him that despite the high number of students inside the Academy, you'd find each other in one way or another.

“No, not like fate,” you have told him, voice groggy with slumber as you laid against his chest, hands pointing at his dorm's ceiling where she had stuck luminescence cut-outs of stars. "Entropy."

You were right, from all his perfectly calculated plans tumbling into a state of chaos, one he surprisingly wasn’t against.

Until he was.

Garfen twirled the both of you, giggles bubbling like the nearby tray of drinks a waiter was carrying toward the Councilors discussing on a corner of the hall.

You looked like that photograph he kept in the bottom drawer of his tattered closet, only that the sepia tones eating it away had been repaired with the tone of your skin, the void he left behind replaced with you looking like a fairy queen with your golden crown and dashing company.

Someone more fitting. But Viktor was now the co-creator of Hextech, wasn’t that enough?

His fingers tangled around the glass’ steam, barely feeling the hot sensation of the alcohol down his throat as he gulped it all.

You’re so pathetic, Viktor. Get over it. Why haven’t you done that already?

“Vik! There you are!” He almost dropped the glass with the impromptu voice of Jayce chiming in his roaming thoughts. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

"You know I'm not… eh, akin to this kind of party," he said, only half a lie. He'd been hiding inside a balcony and then, when Jayce passed by, Viktor slipped between a corner and a column. Now, he'd been too distracted to notice. "I've been unwinding."

“For a moment I thought you were already gone!” He patted his shoulder. “I’ve wanted to introduce you to Miss Favred since morning, but I suppose you had duties to take care of after the meeting.” He had bolted out of there as soon as Councilor Medarda called the session off.

His jar tightened, just as the grasp on his formal cane, naked metal replaced by a coat of black marble and polished wood on its handle. “Jayce, I don’t think this idea about the Hextech Wing would be… good,” he started, pouring in all the thoughts that had flown inside his head ever since the morning meeting. “This isn’t what I imagined when you told me we would celebrate the first decade of Hextech’s creation.”

“Viktor—”

“No, listen to me,” he replied, almost through gritted teeth. How pitiless of him he couldn’t even manage his feelings in public. “We want to help people in need, not to gloat about a fancy exhibit at the Science and Technology Museum. This is just another excuse for the Council to gloat about their grandness. What would the exhibit do for the people who believe in us, hmm? For us as scientists, even? Are you listening to me?” His friend had shifted to his embarrassed posture, where his tall body was trying to shrink into a ball, with hands tightly grabbed against his stomach, gazing at the floor. "Jayce—?"

“We’ve arranged that part of the Museum’s entrance fee is going to be destined to fund upcoming Hextech projects. That way you won’t need as many sponsorships,” Mel interjected behind him. Viktor turned to look at the Councilor, frozen to see the figure tailing close behind. “I believe we talked about it in the past meeting.”

Surely. Not that he would admit he had been too distracted by the nervous movements of your hands gesturing away to explain your design to oblige his mind to follow the Councilor’s debate sprinkled in between.

“Perhaps what he’s referring to is about how much time will it take to seize a positive quantity to fund a project,” you said to save his embarrassing stunned silence, poking your head from behind Jayce’s wide back. Your eyebrows arched slightly, head tilted toward Viktor.

The movement is so familiar from when you helped him through the boring, long seminars with haughty professors and even mouthier classmates. A head tilt and a slow gaze once you had laid the counterargument, ready for him to lock the possibility of a reply with his conclusion.

“I… That wasn’t what I meant,” he said, surprised by his cold tone.

You blinked at him for a moment, a frown slightly forming between your beautiful eyes. He didn’t dare to back out from it, he didn’t have a reason why.

Jayce cleared his throat. “Um… well, Vik, this is Miss Favred, she’s going to be the designer of the Museum ampliation…” He said, and you stepped next to Jayce, lips in a neutral yet mocking smile, with the curves of your lips turned up.

“It’s been quite some time, Miss Favred,” Viktor mustered, a smile plastering on his mouth that was too wide and toothy to be considered polite.

“Likewise, Viktor,” you said, tone sweetly as you extended your hand toward him.

Viktor almost wanted to yank it away once he felt a surge of electricity tingling up his arm once your long and elegant fingers wrapped the reverse of his palm. You giggled, nails digging into his skin with discreet violence.

His lips pressed in a thin line that couldn’t be faked as a smile even as he continued shaking your hand for a minute too long, wanting your eyes to decode the hidden message in his. What are you doing here?

“Oh, do you know each other?” Mel said after calling your name, which made you yank your hand away from his grasp.

“We were acquaintances at the Academy,” you said, gesturing away.

Classmates, the word slipped with an acid aftertaste when Viktor tried to back you up. "Very close classmates." Because of course, this was the perfect time for his brain to break under pressure. Yes, so close you slept against his chest every other night, so, so close that he even burrowed inside of you—

Mel turned to you, with an almost accusatory air. “What a surprise!”

“That was many years ago.” Your gaze swept from Mel’s to his, if only for a second. “I had forgotten about it.”

Oh, so that’s how you wanted to play?

"Well, I'm glad you two can reconnect after so many years!" Jayce said a big grin on his face. The sweet oblivious Jayce. “It’ll be good for Vik to have another friend! It’s… slightly difficult for him to open up and get new ones.”

Viktor glared at him. “Why are you talking about me as if I weren’t here?” he replied, while you mumbled:

“I wonder why that is.”

His head turned toward you in a movement so quick that some of his pushed backward-styled hair fell over his forehead. "Pardon?"

You smiled at him. “I didn’t say anything.”

Oh, you—

"Why don't we leave you two to talk?" Mel said, ignoring the pleading look you sent her when Jayce nodded, saying that there must be a lot to tell between the both of you. “Councilor Talis, let’s go for another drink. There’s something I need to talk about with you.” Probably about the wedding. Not that Viktor was interested in the matter when he had you in front of him. 

From all the stolen glances, he had pieced you whole like a puzzle, filling in the missing pieces eaten away by time with the new image, though he knew some things wouldn't change. Like the way you smelled like hyacinth and mangoes, your favorite fruit. All that freckles and moles and scars dotted around your body like those two small ones peeking over the square neckline on the left of your collarbone, which he knew balanced out with the two tiny moles under your right breast.

Surely your skin was just as heavenly soft as back then despite the occasional roughness of your fingers from working so much. Your palms were always warm against his cold fingers during winter. 

“Viktor," you called him. And he frowned to conceal what he had been thinking all the damn night.

“What?”

 “Why don’t we strike a deal?” you said, arms crossed, disrupting what would have been his doom if he continued.

“Do I look like someone that would strike a deal with a devil, Miss Favred?” Viktor said, arching an eyebrow almost in a flirty way. Just amused enough to push you to the edge of your years-trained composure. You certainly played the part, with all the allure and the deep gaze of your eyes.

“I suppose this must be awkward for you, too.”

“It isn’t awkward for me,” he lied. “You should worry about your work instead.”

“So ready for me to leave?” You chuckled. “I think you should know that I applied to this contest because I need the spotless curriculum if I want to be the new Interior Design teacher at the Architecture Faculty.”

“You’re just trying to annoy me. You said you would leave and never return.” Better put, Viktor cornered you to say so, but he wasn’t going to let his mouth run free.

"And you said we were going to get married," you replied, and Viktor felt himself trip backward if it weren’t for the support of his cane. “So I guess we’re even.”

Viktor stood there, stunned golden eyes wide open. He started calling your name, but you had your hand raised.

“You’re right, my bad. That was unnecessary.” Your hand arranged a loose lock of hair poking your cheek. “Anyhow, I’m not going to mention anything about the… past. So you don’t have to worry about me running out my tongue—despite how close classmates we’ve been.”

“Now you’re just being…” improperly brash, dangerously cheeky. Almost as if you’d been pushing him over the edge of his decorum to see if he’d cornered you against a wall to seal your endless rebukes with a kiss. Or many. “…insufferable.”

"Don't worry." You waved away. "I'll finish my job as fast as humanely possible, and then we won't have to see each other again. Because I know you aren't fond of assisting the Progress Day's party."

He crossed his arms, letting the handle of his cane hook on the curve of his elbow. "I'm not sorry to disappoint you—but I'm very fond of Progress Days. I've changed," Viktor said, but it was only a half-truth. He wasn't sure how he could change a feeling that lay hidden deep inside, frozen in time instead of giving them a real burial. You only had to dig to start seeing the uneven silhouette of the memory boxes where nothing should be more than black earth.

“Anyway,” you replied, your tone bleeding with sarcasm. “That’s my peace treaty. I know Mel and Jayce will feel awkward if they ever discover that they’ve arranged old flames as partners, so let’s just forget it. I assure you it’s nothing that could endanger the quality of this project.”

Let’s just forget it. You were right, as you had always been, and yet…

I've already forgotten you, Viktor, you said inside his mind, a smile that once had left him breathless now hurting him in the unspoken truth that now you were better without him.

Of course, you were better without him.

Yet, Viktor couldn’t help but seek your left hand accommodating the deep V line of your dress for the poignant sight of a band on your finger.

“I’m not a passionate teenager, Miss Favred," he said, his tone devoid of any warmth. "I assure you I'm not interested in dwelling in the past. So rest assured, I won't embarrass you." It was totally unconscious that his voice dripped with contempt.

You curled your upper lip. “You’re such a fusspot, always the victim.”

Viktor inhaled sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you spat, taking your skirt with your fists as you were ready to stalk away.

The parallels made his heart squeeze in a painful grip. Was history about to repeat itself?

Before his brain could recollect the action, Viktor had called your name, hand extended open as if wanting to touch you. “Wait—” As if he had something to tell you.

You ignored him, stopping when Jayce approached you both from the complete opposite direction Mel and he had gone at first. Also, you couldn't point out if the dark marks of brown smeared on his face were just a plaything of the lightning or marks of kisses.

“Are you leaving so soon?” Jayce told you, hand over your shoulder.

“Yes,” you told him with a smile, completely ignoring Viktor. “My feet hurt and I’m afraid I haven’t recovered my sleep schedule since my return.”

"Well, maybe Viktor can walk you home?" he offered. "For what Mel told me, you live near his apartment." Not that he had moved a lot since you left, but seeing the surprise in your eyes felt like a little victory.

“No,” Viktor and you said at the same time.

“I mean—,” you started.

“I want to stay a little longer,” Viktor said. "As I should be open to enjoying these celebrations more. Hextech anniversary only arrives once a year!" He tried to laugh, but Jayce looked at him with such a concerned frown it was hard to keep his act. Your contained snort wasn't helping.

“Vik… I think you’ve had far too many drinks.”

He glared at Jayce for what felt like the thousandth time. "I'm fine, Jayce—”

"Well, goodbye!" you chirped, getting on your tippy toes to kiss Jayce's cheek, and then, forcefully, approach Viktor and give him a goodbye kiss, too. More like a rude smack, with how forceful you were.

"Tomorrow, eight sharp," Jayce told you, poking your side with his elbow. "Viktor doesn't like it when I arrive late."

“I can’t wait,” you beamed, eyes boring into Viktor’s. As if daring him to say something.

"Me either," Viktor lied.

If you wanna get into the taglist lemme a comment below! 🤗

[numinous-void]

um i’m swamped with school but here’s some radiorose headcanons! i am probably gonna write little imagines (are those still a thing?) about them & the headcanons instead of full stories cus im a good writer- just not in the creative way… the boring research and report paper way….

- rosie does a lot of the grocery shopping because alastor is very frugal. i imagine he was pretty poor as a kid so it was a habit his mama passed onto him.

- same train of thought, but he makes a lot of struggle meals. 70% of the time out of habit, 30% of the time for nostalgia. old habits die hard. when he gets older the nostalgia reason becomes more often. in my au he’s very very early 20s. frontal lobe not finished. i see him dying at like 29-32 range.

-alastor is pretty thin, and rosie will make him model designs and he sits there feigning grumpiness but really he doesn’t care and likes to help her.

-constant playful war of who’s cooking because they both enjoy it. rosie can bake and she teaches alastor how to. he doesn’t like sweets but after he learns, he bakes little goodies for her.

-they both have similar m.o. and they leave little signatures on each victim. alastor draws or carves (depending on severity of how much he dislikes the person) a smiley face. rosie leaves little flower petals covering their face or heart.

-both alastor and rosie have similar motives. they will kill both men and women but will not harm children and nor will they orphan children. they target people who are abusers (in any form) and p3dos. they are sorta like vigilantes but they are a little too sadistic to be a vigilante in a way. they torment the victim psychologically and physically as revenge and take joy and are entertained by it.

-they are knowledgeable in different areas. alastor is very good at anatomy, rosie is very good with decay. they are both extremely intelligent, but these skills are only slightly more noticeable in each other.

-alastor manipulates through smooth talking, rosie manipulates through sweet talking. they manipulate people to gain more of a social status, manipulate victims into traps, and manipulate people who are not their target demographic, but incredibly arrogant and difficult. they both do not manipulate innocent people or people with equal or lesser power than them. they do not manipulate each other either.

- due to the vastly different parts of america they were raised in (alastor- new orleans, louisiana and rosie- boston, massachusetts) they sometimes have trouble interpreting words or understanding words through each others heavy accents. alastor may ask if rosie wants a “cold drink,” she may assume a literal drink that is cold, when he actually is referring to soda. rosie may ask the same thing but refers to soda as “pop.” for funsies, mimzy just calls it soda

-alastor is still very cold, suave, silent, and nonchalant. exception… rosie. he melts for her. she likes to have fun with that lol. he’s ace but rosie can definitely bring out a little bit more of a gray-asexual or favorable ace with just small little (but intimate) gestures. he’s not used to it but he likes it. he likes the genuine affection.

-rosie first saw his curls when he was escorting her home and it began to rain, not having an umbrella, alastors hair began to curl. he didn’t want her to see (cus yaknow… the 1920s…) but she loved it. she eventually learns and helps al take care of his curly hair or will help him straighten it. she prefers it curly but she understands the need and want for it to be straight in public/society at the time.

THANK YOU THAGS ALL!

[trulybetty]

dec' x 20 - coming home

Prompt: coming home Pairing: frankie x reader Word Count: 1,253 Warnings: cold weather, homecomings, mentions of Frankie's curls, general fluff and we're un-beta'd here, all mistakes are my own. Summary: Frankie returns home after his first deployment of your relationship. AO3: Linked

x. masterlist

A/N: I figured since I had this one ready to go I'd post it. Might queue up what I have done and circle back to the days that need completing before the month is out. If I tried to write now, I think it would be a series of gif's and gibberish in hope I got my story across lol

The air was cold and sharp and stung at his eyes. He reached up to pull his cap down out of habit, forgetting he’d left it on the bedside table two minutes too late when he’d left over three weeks ago. The ground was a mix of slushy snow and ice mixed with the grit of salt. The salt trucks had come around the base early that morning but would do little once the night's colder temperatures came in to freeze it over. 

He hadn’t been permitted to fly into base. Part of the process of post-deployment and debriefing, but he had heard the pilots discussing the weather. The mass snowstorm that had hit Colorado had eased enough for them to be flown in, allowing them to come home as planned. 

Home. 

Frankie thought it to be such a novel concept suddenly. He’d never referred to returning to base home in the past. But with you there now, the word had slipped from his tongue more than once.  

Communication was cut off during reconnaissance. As it usually was standard, but this time all personal communication devices had been sequestered and he’d had no chance to send you a message that he was on his way back. A part of him, something that he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in before you, had imagined seeing you on the tarmac, at the parking lot. 

He’d never had anyone waiting for him before. 

He’d watched all the other guys at some point in their lives come home to waiting arms eager to have them home. Heck, even Santiago had someone there waiting for him at homecoming on more than one occasion. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been anyone, there had been several relationships before you - but none had existed to run the gauntlet of that first deployment, tapping out before things could get serious or unable to cope with the trappings of military life.

Things between the two of you were still so new. Yes, there had been the whirlwind year playing fast and loose with the notion of it just being ‘fun’ and ‘friends with benefits’. But you had jumped into the deep end with him without the preamble of a typical relationship. 

Within two weeks of saying yes, your apartment was packed, a new remote position was signed and all his belongings on base were already packed and making their way to Colorado. 

As part of their cover, their return was coordinated to coincide with the homecoming of a troop from Afghanistan. The tarmac was heaving with emotions and bodies, families and friends creating a sea of faces, each one searching for their own loved one. Frankie and his Delta team, always adept at slipping in unnoticed, used this chaos to their advantage. But Frankie's eyes were solely focused on one thing – finding you in the crowd.

Will, standing beside him, nudged his arm. “She gonna be here, man?” His voice was barely audible over the commotion.

Frankie shrugged, a tightness in his chest. “Don't know,” he admitted, the uncertainty was gnawing at him. What if you weren’t here? What if you didn’t know? He hadn't been able to get a message to you, to tell you he was coming back. You still didn’t know anyone on the base and he wondered if anyone had reached out to let you know.

Then, like a scene from a movie, the crowd parted, and there you were. Lost amongst the sea of people, pulling your coat tighter around you, seemingly too thin against the Colorado winter, your eyes scanning the area, a look of hopeful anticipation across on your face.

Frankie's breath caught in his throat. It had only been three weeks since he'd seen you last, but in that moment, it felt too long. The way the cold air made your eyes brighter, the way your breath formed clouds in the frosty air, the way you bit your lip in concentration – it was like seeing you for the first time all over again.

He hadn’t even realized he was moving until he was halfway through the crowd, his focus solely on you. The noise around him faded to a dull roar, the cold, the discomfort, the fatigue from his deployment, all of it disappeared. All that mattered was the few feet of distance that still separated you from him.

Will called out something behind him, but Frankie didn’t hear it. His entire world had narrowed down to the space where you stood.

As you finally noticed him, your eyes widened in surprise, then filled with unmistakable joy. A smile broke across your face, a smile that reached your eyes and lit up your entire being. Frankie felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the temperature.

You started towards him, a little hesitant at first, as if you couldn’t believe he was really there. Then, as if suddenly realizing it was indeed him, you broke into a run.

Frankie met you halfway, and when you threw your arms around him, all the pent-up emotions, the fears, the loneliness, seemed to melt away. He held you tightly against him, breathing in the scent of your hair, feeling the realness of your presence. This was what he had missed the most – the simple yet profound comfort of holding you.

You didn’t dare let go, didn’t dare blink for fear he would no longer be standing before you. You wanted to touch his face, feel his lips beneath your fingertips. You wanted to leave with him in hand as much as you wanted to stay in that moment and ignore the fact that this was to be one of many times when he’d be taken away from you at a moment's notice.

“I’m sorry I missed Christmas,” he said, finally breaking the quiet between you.

You gave him a half smile, “I kept the lights up for you.”

“I would’ve called if I could,” Frankie said, his voice thick with emotion. “I missed you so much.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with eyes shining with tears. “I missed you too.”

You were tied to him now, you weren’t going anywhere. Anywhere he went you knew you’d follow. Whatever plans you’d made for your future were gone on the promise of forever. If he said jump you would say how high. 

You curled your finger around a curl at the nape of his neck, his forehead pressed against yours. You wanted it all with him and then some. You didn’t know then the cost that would take. But for that moment, it was just the two of you.

“Let’s go home,” you whispered, the word ‘home’ feeling more real and comforting than ever.

“I need to do something first,” he said softly.

Before you could ask what, he dipped his head capturing your lips with his, soft and gentle at first, as if getting familiar with one another for the first time again. Before the overwhelming need to make up for lost time urged him to deepen the kiss. Frankie's hands held your face gently but firmly, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as if he couldn't bear to let go.

You didn't know how much time had passed when Frankie pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours once more and you blinked to regain your focus.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice a whisper. 

You smiled, your heart feeling full. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you assured him.

[doverstar]

Hello hello I was told by your lovely sister, one of my favorite people on the planet, to send you the same question I asked her to see what else you could say about it, since you write a lot of fanfiction and are more familiar with it than she said she was, so here I am!

I wanted to ask about fanfiction. I've really been thinking about that post Artist made about how a lot of fanfiction can be just used as a form of escapism, and not in a good way like Tolkien described it, but as a 'I hate life so I'm gonna read and write extensively about fictional characters rather than working hard/trying to improve my own life' Which I really want to avoid and not do. In the past I've certainly fallen into that trap- I would get so caught up in writing Marvel or Percy Jackson or Harry Potter fanfiction (not to toot my own horn, but was objectively good and I do think grew my skills a lot as a writer and character analyzer) that I would spend every free moment and many of ones when I really should've been working on school or chores or spending time with my actual family reading and writing it. I was probably doing that 5-8 hours a day when I was 11/12. (Yikes) Thankfully, my parents smacked some sense into me lol. It really just goes to show you how, for lack of a better term, soul-consuming, that these kind of fantasy pursuits can really be. Thankfully, I don't do that any more. I actively limit myself to a max of 3 hours of reading and writing fanfiction over the course of a week, which is a big improvement.

So yay! Now I have a definte separation from writing fanfiction to improve my writing and writing it to waste time because all of my energy is focused on it to the point where it is in my every thought. Good! Growth!

But now my new thing is this- I want to make sure that any and all fanfiction I write has a definite point. I want it to point to good things and have clear messages and blue flowers and point to Jesus, even if it isn't specifically a 'Christian' fanfiction.

But how do I go about this trying to intentionally bring in blue flowers and good messages and beautiful themes, and not just only write it for my entertainment because its a piece of media I love? How to I make sure to firstly know what themes I can bring in, and then do it in such a way that's well-written, while also being able to have those fun moments and situations that are both in the piece of media and I've thought up?

And finally, last thing, is I'm wrestling through if I should continue writing fanfiction to 'fix' a story (which is why I started a Percy Jackson and Marvel fanfictions, I wanted to take the parts of each story I didn't like and were poorly done and make them better) rather than make my own point with it. For most of the fanfiction writing I've ever done, my goal was to improve it, to act like a ghostwriting editor the author hired to fix their fundamentally flawed story. But now I'm realizing that I was spending so much time and effort (which don't get me wrong, I do not fully regret, I really do think that I've gotten far better at fiction writing through this) and I didn't even add any more goodness or morals to the story in a way that made it more soul-sustaining and truly good. I wanted to add a lot of bits that made be as a reader squeal and get happy over which... I don't think is bad per say, but its not what I want my fanfiction to be like any more. With my writing, I absolutely do want to improve on the source material, yes, but I also want to figure out what sort of themes and goodness I'm going for with it. So should I continue writing these large projects (cause each piece covers several books/movies) for improvement and also try to expand on the good ideas and themes the authors had, even bringing in my own, or should I just set it aside as that was great, but now I need to focus on making writing morally good and not just for entertainment?

I know a big part of this is wisdom and descretion- things that God has blessed me with but I know I always can pursue more of. So I know a absolute perfect answer to this question will require time and experience. But after sorting through my word-vomiting (sorry lol), what would you say to all of this? Thank you!! <3 I love you and your blog so much btw!

Golly, what a question! I haven't seen what Arti answered yet - I've been at work - but I'm on break now, so I can give it a try! I bet I'll end up saying a lot of what she said, making this an unnecessary and VERY LONG read, but here goes-

I do write a lot of fanfiction, and I have been since I was 8 (aka for a long, long time, gosh I'm old-). I wrestle with a lot of what you've described! I've been on the brink of quitting fanfiction altogether lately; there will come a time when I need to "grow up" in that area and commit to only writing what's just mine. I do have original stories, original worlds, original characters, but like you, when I want to practice and learn, I turn to fanfiction. It's a wonderful platform in that sense!

I would say you're right on the money when it comes to what the Lord has gifted you with. You should use wisdom, and you should use discretion. Your writing should be used to point to what's true, and there should be intention in no matter what you're creating. We're not only called to glorify God, we're called to excellence. Everything we do should be done to the best of our ability!

And what you believe, if you really believe it - about what's true, about how we ought to live and what's important - is definitely going to bleed through into whatever you write. It's the truth, and you've found it, and it can't help coming out. Making something (writing in particular) requires pieces of us, and if that's the case, then our Christianity (for lack of a better phrase) is going to show up in our stories. Even if the characters belong to someone else.

If you find yourself writing a story just to squeal over a ship, just to get secondhand butterflies when the male lead's being dreamy, just to vent some sort of difficult emotion you're dealing with or live vicariously through a character, you should close the laptop. I've written plenty of things that make me feel happy or excited (like you said, that's not bad!) but if that's the only reason you're writing it, it's a waste. And on another, semi-related note, a lot of people only write fanfiction to indulge in emotional pornography. It's not as steep a slope as you might think. When my father-in-law gets just a little drunk every night before bed, it's still sin. It doesn't matter how much or how long it lasts. He's still drunk, and he shouldn't be. So be careful! (she said, to herself, often-)

As for writing just to fix a story - if it's bothering you, and you see what they ought to have done, I say go for it, and here's why: it's teaching you something. It's you figuring out why what the source material did was dissatisfying, and it's you figuring out how your alternative is better. You're essentially teaching yourself what not to do. Now, if you want to write it and fix it and you want to keep the focus on good things, true things, there's still a way to do that. Work out what was good and true already about the source material and draw from that when it comes to theme.

I use a Notes document. I'm not talking about the Notes app on smartphones, I'm saying I open a Word document (or whatever your equivalent is!) for every single thing I write (fanfiction, original, etc.) and I entitle it "[Insert Story Title Here] - Notes.doc" and then I word-vomit at myself. I write at the top what the theme of my writing is going to be this time, and why, and underneath that I explain to myself where I see those good and true themes in the source material and how I'm going to magnify them and use them to point to the truth (specifically some Christian truths) in my story now. I figure out how it will all work and feel canon and then I move on to the pre-write for each chapter. It's good practice, it's great fun, and it keeps me on course when I start to drift into self-indulgence during the writing process. It's fun to visit Atlantica and Stars Hollow and get inside Caitlin Snow's head and show the world why I think Rose Tyler is the best thing to ever happen to Doctor Who - but all of those things can pull me away from the messages I'm trying to communicate.

Fanfiction should not be escapism. I cannot write when I am freaking out. I cannot write when I'm miserable, or angry, or fighting with someone. When I'm low emotionally and my spirit is scratched, I can't complete a single sentence. I can't. I think the Lord did that in me for a reason. I don't use fanfiction to escape reality or to deal with reality. When I was younger, I considered a day when I wasn't writing to be a wasted day. I needed to write. I needed to make something. But I prioritized that over reality, and yes, that is sin. I wasn't escaping, but I was idolizing, and that's wrong. I'm impressed by your self-inflicted limits! I could've done with that at 12 myself.

Fanfiction shouldn't be all self-indulgence, either. Yes, you ought to have some fun when you're making things. But have self-control! I love writing fanfiction and drawing and editing videos. I love it. It's so much fun to me. I get genuine joy out of it. And when I look at something I'm making, I say to myself, "Self, is this a waste of time? Does that part need to be in there or are you just playing?" And then I examine my motives and I examine the thing I'm worried about and I determine whether or not it takes you out of the story or draws you away from the themes (in writing specifically) or if it's okay to add because it's pleasant and matches one of the good, lovely, honorable, etc. things that are true in life that God allows us to have and enjoy, because He's just that good. And then I have to either say to myself, "Self, this is fattening," and delete it, or I say to myself "Hey, dolphins twirl," and leave it in, making sure I'm still on course.

Dolphins twirl! Why? We don't know why they twirl! God does. God made them twirl. God made them animals that play. He didn't have to do that! He didn't have to make the leaves change color. He looked at His creation and called it good when He was finished (you know, before we ruined it). He took pleasure in creating. We can too - as long as it's not pulling us or our readers off course. My husband doesn't have to be a good dancer to fit the biblical picture of a man I ought to marry - but he is a good dancer, on top of fitting what I should have been looking for biblically, and God knew that, and God did that, and I get to enjoy it and enjoying it is not wrong. Dolphins twirl!

Like I said, I'm close myself to putting fanfiction aside on the whole, because I can tell, probably because of the Lord, that it's nearly time for that. It's time to look up and make something more real, for more real reasons. If you're thinking it's about time for that for you, too, pray about it. Writing fanfiction is like anything else fun the Lord has blessed us with (everything good comes from God) - it's fun and good as long as you aren't misusing it. Everything in moderation. People take stories they love and characters they connect to and go and interact with them through fanfiction in a bad way, for bad reasons (or just reasons that are useless to man and beast), and I've done that before myself. I've been one of them. But it's not wrong to expand on the good and true things in stories we love, the things that are in line with what we know God invented, and it's not wrong to hone your craft and learn how to use what you've been given with excellence, so that when the time comes for you to write your own story that points to God, you're ready!

You don't want to be wasting your time or the talents you've been given. I say keep thinking about it, and remember why you do what you do. Stay on course! That's my advice.

Thanks for asking me!

[th3-0bjectivist]

The Salvation Day Interviews (1 of 2) with musician Anthony Tadlock

     Dear listener, as a special treat and for the edification of music lovers all over Tumblr this is part 1 of 2 of my Salvation Day Interviews with Anthony Tadlock, A.K.A. t-underneaththeradardancing on Tumblr. Mr Tadlock, I recently spent several hours listening to Salvation Day. Thanks for agreeing to answer some questions about your band’s music. 

    When I dive headlong into music that I’m not too familiar with there’s always this sense of discomfort, but when I started with Mercy from your EP, The Backdoor Sessions, I felt distinctly like I was sitting in a new bar and listening to an exceedingly talented local band perform live. I know we’ve discussed this one-on-one before, but for the peeps on Tumblr, what was the actual genesis of SD, and how did you and Ms Vita Rhie Quintanilla meet? What was the spark that brought you two together to record in the first place?

     to set the stage - so to speak - i had been performing with and jamming and hanging with a young musician - very loose no muss fuss - 3 weeks before meeting vita i had a mild heart attack - mild but the hospital experience was literally a nightmare and nearly killed me - a couple weeks after getting out i was invited over to play/ jam/hang out - wuz expecting at most a couple other ppl to b there - btw to digress - t is very much an introvert - to digress further - t is a stage name but the only name ppl in the music aspect of my life know me by or call me - anywaves - i had just set up my guitar and amp when i could feel a presence coming down the stairs - a young woman - at 1st i guessed 25- ish which would make her the 2nd oldest in the room - she looked at a painting of crows and i said something to her about my love of corvids - i was improvising on guitar - some blues - i think a bass player was playing along and maybe another guitar - she started singing improvising lyrics and we started riffing off each other - her voice blew me away - then she started playing her original songs - omfg ! - anyway - i hoped that we would play together again

     a couple weeks later she walked into Madrone Art Bar where i frequently played open mics -she was with my friend - both joined me on stage and we did what i call "deep space nine " which is what i called any unplanned unrehearsed collaboration onstage - i of course could not remember her name - she handed me a business card lol - she told me she had a weekly gig at a cafe i had performed at and would i like to join her - by this time i knew she was diagnosed w schizoaffective disorder - that she was 17 still in high school and a witch - we started performing together playing her gigs - open mics - on the street ...there is of course more to the story which may be covered as we go on

    I went through every song on Salvation Day’s YouTube page, the instrumentals and the voice go very well together, and I must admit, there is great synergy on display. You two had me mesmerized a few times, particularly with tunes like Para Ti and Reincarnation. Tell me, do the instrumentals come first, or do the lyrics/vocals come first, or somehow both at the same time? What goes into the process before you record?

     virtually all of salvation day songs are mostly vita - the lyrics in particular - some have come out of improvising at gigs - or as vita would say - we are just gonna pull something out of our ass now - some she has already "arranged " before i hear them others she asks me to figure out some chords and key - it should be noted that after graduating high school she moved to davis ca about 100 long miles away with no good way of getting there and back on public transit - required bus ride - a subway ride and finally a train and took 3 hours - neither of us drive though she recently learned - t cant see for shit so - and there was lots of drama in the summer preceding - however we rarely felt the need to rehearse - at early gigs i would ask whats the 1st chord and what key - sometimes the answer was - idk - jimi hendrix chords lol - sometimes they were jazz chords i didnt know - i still play a lot of chords im not quite sure the name of and double stops that suggest a chord - on a good night i play by ear and improvise mostly - when we decided we were gonna make an album - we formalized the arrangements and figured out keys etc ...

     sometimes - like last week when we got together after not playing together in a couple months - tho exchanging some snippets thru email text etc - vita thought of some lyrics on the spot - i started playing some chords - we fucked around w it a bit - made a rough recording on fones and will see if something comes of it - Reincarnation was written just before we met - vita says the songs morphed and become different thru my influence - Para Ti she had come up with a couple months after we started playing together - we were at the friends house - and he had become totally indisposed - we were supposed to start the recording process that day - we waited around to see if he would improve and she started playing it - i came up w the lead guitar lines - btw to digress to q 1 - vita was often in and out of hallucinations and delusions at the time - she has no memory of the 1st time we met and hazy about the beginning period - one last example Mercy - written entirely by vita - tho my guitar was central - she sent me an audio file - it has chords i dont know - i just followed her voice and elaborated - tbh i still dont know what key it is in lol - like jack sparrow eluding capture we just make it up as we go

    Do you have any advice for aspiring musicians out there based on your experiences with SD so far? Have you had any creative blocks or serious problems when generating new music? If so, how do you get through them, and what do you think the most important thing is for a musician to do when they feel discouraged or dejected by their own bad experiences with music making?

     whew - thats a tough one - i have been playing guitar for almost 60 years - been in a number of bands and playing situations - have been discouraged countless times - most recent was the whole experience of recording a studio album with a producer - it was hugely stressful for myriad reasons and ego deflating and not in a good way - we coped w that by recording the Backdoor Sessions ep - the bulk of was recorded in a couple hours in vita's tiny dorm room using garageband - it was done without rehearsal - and we played 2 gigs in january that we were happy with also w no rehearsal - we also released vita's book The Schizophrenic Dialogues - all while covid was rearing its ugly head - no gigs to promote anything - no spoken word opportunities - vita was in terror of infecting me - between age COPD and heart i was a likely candidate to die - so we saw each other rarely

     i had invested a huge amount of $ in the studio album - to cope vita started a collective based on Sacred Arts Productions - a jewelry biz and an art biz - i worked w our web designer / friend / collaborator maggie umber to get our web site up - and started recording daily snippets for instagram and spammed the fuck out of tumblr - vita and i met mostly outdoors - playing mostly acoustic where the chances of infecting me were minimized (she got covid twice during this period ) so i guess my advice is 1) forget the ego and bullshit that goes w doing - anything - but particularly the creative 2) forget about "success" and numbers - sales/listens/hearts...3) just keep on keepin on - that said it aint easy sometimes - i been playing as i said almost 60 years - theres still so much i dont know - i try to learn new things and ways almost daily - just showing up is sometimes a victory

     Listen to Salvation Day on Youtube. Back at the end of the next week with part 2 of my Q&A with Mr Tadlock. If you liked this post, please spread the word about SD and consider reblogging this set of interviews. And if you haven’t done it yet, scroll to the top of this post and smash play!

[by-glass-and-waves]

So ofc notes will always change but I figured I can post some more notes about my 19th Century AU

Some stuff in progress and I don't know if they decent but yolo might as well share it with the world

It's primarily on the Bishops/Royal Family and has a little on the port town this is set in

(also can I say that tumblr formatting is going to make me lose my mind)

Royal Family

Leshy

Prince of Chaos

Duke of Darkwood

supplier of flowers and lumber

has part of the coastline

was kind enough to take in Narinder as a gentleman in Darkwood so Narinder still gets the $ from the Royal Family's wallet

closest to Narinder after Shamura got super disappointed in the Prince of Death

likes to pay visits to Narinder and stuff

might cause rumors about their relationship or if shady stuff going on

Narinder

Prince of Death

Duke of ??

The Lands Below? The Seven Circles? The Seven Rivers? The Seven…?

Which would have included the town nicknamed "The Gateway" (setting of the story)`

Port town at the mouth of a river

he lives in an estate slightly outside town

Split between Darkwood and Anura - maybe his county was absorbed after Narinder gave up his duties

kind of want his former land to surround the major river

now he lives as an upper class gentleman in Darkwood

conceals his identity/assuming the identity/presenting himself as someone else

Sir Amenthes

lives as a gentleman/high social class than a noble tbh that way he's not as obvs

I mean, not everyone should gonna recognize this guy

and if they do and are a threat, they'll be taken care of

Heket

Princess of Famine

Duchess of Anura

breadbasket of the Kingdom

lots of fields close to the rivers though

kind of like the river Nile or something

centrally located, aka easy access to other counties

mad festivals here too

the richest county in the Kingdom, because of the crop yield

illegal mushroom trade here

wonder if Heket plays a part in it or she knows and doesn't give a fuck

Sozo is definitely involved here

Kallamar

Prince of Famine

Duke of Anchordeep

supplier of fish

also art/weapons/etc with all the crystal and quarries around him

has most of the coastline

boy flaunts his wealth, dates everyone LOL

maybe he quickly freaks out about people trying to take advantage of him?

not sure, he needs some cowardice, unless I really do want everyone to be slightly more well adjusted

Shamura

Sovereign of the Lands of the Old Faith

Their Majesty - make sure you keep that gender neutral goodness

Monarch of War and Wisdom

Regent of Silk Cradle

mountainous area, well defended

Capital located within Silk Cradle

likes to call Narinder back to the Capital often

tries to convince Narinder to return as Prince and take up his duties

Narinder's like nah

was super disappointed that Narinder dropped the Prince title but still loves him

allows him to remain incognito

supplier of textiles

Regarding injuries maybe

Shamura gets mad migraines

Kallamar goes deaf or mad tinnitus or some shit/vertigo struggles since ear problems

Heket is has severe asthma?? or speaking problems on occasion

Leshy can be v photosensitive outdoors, leading to him having to cover his eyes

Narinder, similar to other versions, he has trouble with fine motor function or limbs lock up, leading to him relying on others to do shit for him

also may have black markings around those parts

Shamura's head

Kallamar's ears

Heket's throat

Leshy's eyes

Narinder's hands/arms

so Narinder has to wear gloves

or he can blame it on like scars

Regarding the Crowns

badges of office

augments the magic of the Royal Family

can transform into different things

Purple Crown

Blue Earring

Yellow Necklace

Green… Ring? hm

Red Brooch

Halcyon Harbor/"The Gateway"

port town/city at the mouth of a major river

not sure if I should put as name to it?

Ratau and Ratoo's Shipping/Trading Company is located within, one of the major companies

Narinder is their investor/partner

Midas' Banks are based here

Forneus owns an inn

Rakshasha and the Missus work there

Ratau and Ratoo's Trading Company

successful trading/shipping company in town

Employees

Ratau (owner)

Ratoo (owner)

Narinder (investor/business partner)

Plimbo (ship captain)

Hauron

the Knucklebones (sailors)

whoever else

Midas Royal Bank

owns the banks in the Kingdom

oh he is rolling in the $

Acheron Estate

Narinder's residence that he moves into at the start of the story

Narinder was wandering around, staying at different places, usually in cities or whatever, kind of just doing his own thing

did start investing in Ratau and Ratoo's Trading Company on recommendation of Midas? or Leshy?

wanted to stop being on the move for a while also because of the Trading Company

wanted to get more involved in it

[viridian-house]

in an effort to be a bit more active on tumblr, I wanted to make a little update post about some of my fics: multisaku edition

the final chapter of my madasaku fic your other life is still in the works, slowly but steadily. there's a lot of emotional ground I want to cover and give plenty of breathing room to be as natural as possible.

that said, I have a 2nd madasaku fic (likely a lengthy oneshot) that I'm hoping to have completed within the next week or two. this one is gonna be a little bit weird.....or maybe a lotta bit weird, because of who I am fundamentally as a person. so I'll probably publish that and then the final chapter of your other life immediately afterwards as a "back to our regularly scheduled programming, I promise I'm not becoming a f*tish author" thing lol

to mend and defend's plot (itasaku) absolutely ran away from me and has gone through several iterations that I've been varying degrees of satisfied with, so I've been hesitant to upload anything just yet before I can nail the definitive edition. it's my baby though and I want to be as dedicated as possible to giving it the best final arc I can!!

daylily (kakasaku), the final part of shine onto me, remains in limbo. I keep feeling that the ending I've had planned for years, isn't to my standards. the story is deeply personal to me as kakashi's journey through untangling his past, and the struggles of falling in love with someone at the wrong time, were both major things I was working through at the time. I just want to make sure the message I'm sending is ultimately a healthy one; it's been tricky

and finally, I'm about 99% certain I'll be taking down the king of crows and reuploading it with some important changes, and keep going that way. it's not a ship-centric story but I WILL be changing sakura's ship--from madasaku to inosaku (part of the reason why I don't just want to edit the existing story, too). something about sapphic relationships in historical stories just speaks closer to my heart, and I think they're a good mirror for the sasunaru pairing that also runs through the story

all right, that covers all of my multisaku shipping hell fics and I really appreciate my readers' patience and support with my erratic upload schedule (or when I upload/update a fic for a completely different fandom lol). or if you're seeing these fics for the first time because of this tumblr post, i hope you'll consider reading and that you enjoy them as much as I've loved writing them!! have a great autumn everyone 💕✨

[namluvili]

𝙩𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 (1)

"..𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙧, 𝙄'𝙫𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙖 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪.."

f!reader x vampire!namjoon

This is a slow burn romance, so don't expect anything to be fast. (unless i get lazy).

Word count: 1.6k

i made a playlist for this story, it helped me set the mood and write it.https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6oZbET8eNOt0kkRdpPTkNC?si=d804f3ee68394597

warning(s): slight k!ssing, Joon is stalkerish? little intimate moments, Joon is a vampire, so expect for him to want to have bl00d (no there isn't any blood play, that's disgusting.) Joon is whipped, a little smut? (slight making out against a wall, etc) enjoy!

You were tired of waking up everyday to go to your job, you hated your job, but because of your rich family, you had to have a decent job. It wasn't always easy, considering your job was vampire hunting, which was dumb. It was the 20th century, everyone knows vampires don't exist. Right? But it paid well, and it was just for research, everyone knew that vampires weren't real, but everyone just HAD to believe they were real, considering the "sightings" that have been reported.

You slowly got out of your bed, brushed your teeth and threw on your normal work outfit; a black skirt, and a button up blouse. You put on your heels, and made your way out the door.

You arrived at the office, hoping today went like everyday. Sitting at your desk, not having to go out and investigate for "vampires" but boy, you were wrong. You were shutting down more cases when your boss came to your desk and said, "Y/N, this case is pretty severe, were gonna need you to go out today, and debunk it. But i think this one is gonna be a tad bit harder."

"How come? what are the people saying?" you asked.

"At night, people are seeing this pair of eyes peek into their windows and hear slight growling. They wake up the next morning with bites on their neck. I think this one is pretty serious Y/N."

You roll your eyes and say, "Fine ill check it out, but i doubt theres gonna be anything out there." As you gather your "going out" clothes.

After you change, you make your way to the address your boss gave you. On your way, you turn left and head into deep woods. You didn't like this at all. Chills went up your spine and you felt as if there were another pair of eyes watching you.

You slowly went up the driveway leading up to the little shack in the middle of the woods. Hoping that this would just be quick and easy like the other ones. As you make your way up the creaky steps to knock on the door, you see a shadow by the window quickly shuttle away.

"Okay Y/N, calm down. Your just here to debunk a case, that's all you have to do." you say to yourself as the door opens before you can even knock.

"Ah, you must be the investigator. welcome, come inside." the man says to you with the cutest dimple smile you have ever seen in your life.

You didn't even acknowledge what he said to you, because my god. This man was, so. fucking. handsome. You thought to yourself as he suddenly waved his hand in your face, "hellooo?" he said to you.

"Oh! I'm sorry, yes i am the investigator, sorry about that, I'm just not used to being in these parts of the woods." you say while chuckling, making your way inside the shack. "its alright, Y/N, its not everyone's cup of tea. speaking of, would you like some?" he asked

How the fuck did he know your name? last time you remember, your name wasn't anywhere on the website for your job. maybe your boss recommended you. you shrug it off.

"yes, i would like some, uhh.." you try to say his name, but yet you haven't even learned it LOL. "its Kim Namjoon. you can either call me Namjoon, or just Joon is fine." he said while heading to the kitchen. "your welcome to sit anywhere by the way, i wont keep you long."

You saw a couch nearby, and decided to sit and wait for him to come back with the tea. you looked around the place, it didn't look to unsettling, it was just covered with books, and some art. nothing uncomfortable. you quickly turn your head to the kitchen, noticing he's coming back. you quickly fix your posture and grab out your checklist of questions.

"Okay.." you say while clearing your throat. So, tell me the sightings you have been seeing, and ill check them off along the way, if a majority of the questions check 'yes' then ill keep coming back out and investigating. "

He nods his head and sips his tea. "Well, i have been seeing eyes peek into my window at night, and I've been waking up with random bite marks on my body. I thought it was just a animal, but then they started turning into fang marks. I always feel uneasy waking up, like i was up all night."

Damn.. this was a pretty serious case. "well, okay.." you sip your tea. "this is a pretty serious case, so ill have to come back out more often and see what's going on out here, could be a animal, or could be something else. I'm not sure." you say to him.

"figured that's what the answer would be.. not surprised." he says in a stern voice. "Well, at least i didn't waste your time." he says while showing off that dimple smile again.

Fuck, this is gonna be hard to do with a man looking that attractive.. you slowly get up from the couch, and deep dive into his arms, you look at his plump lips and-

Damn Y/N, what the hell are you thinking? you just met this man. Calm down.. you repeat to yourself, getting those thoughts away.

"Alright, well i must be going, i have to report this to the office." you say as you get up and make your way out of the door.

You feel uneasy, wondering what just happened inside of your head, how the hell is it already 9pm? it was 6pm when you got there..ok, whatever.

you go back to the office, feeling more tired than usual. you hand the paperwork to your boss and clock out early because your not feeling well.

you could barely drive yourself home. it was awful. you almost got into 3 crashes, fell asleep behind the wheel twice, you just wanted to be in your bed. You walk into your front door, kick off your shoes and tied up your hair into a bun.

NAMJOON POV

Her scent is so strong. It took everything inside of me to not just suck into her neck during that interview. Once she left, i couldn't hold myself back anymore. I've been watching her from afar for so long, and i finally made a move. She slowly drove away from my home, and i knew i couldn't let her get far. I followed her, and we ended up at her house. I set myself up at her back window and waited until it was the perfect time to finally do something about it.

Its now 12AM, and she's finally asleep. Best part about being a vampire, is that no one can sense when your watching a human, and plotting on them. I don't want to hurt her, but she's been on my mind ever since she had her first case at the job. She almost caught me, but i was able to sneak away before she cracked the case.

I slightly cracked open her window and snuck into her bedroom. She looks so peaceful, but i cant help it. i need to taste her.

I slowly make my way to her neck, the moment is finally happening. i just need a few drops, then ill be on my way. thats all-

Y/N POV

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" you scream as you feel sharp fangs touch your neck. "There's no. fucking. way." you say as you see him, hovering above you. Namjoon, what the fuck are you doing here? You ask him, desperately waiting for a answer.

"Well, this is awkward.." he said while sitting up onto the bed. You looked at him in the eyes with anger you have never felt before.

"Look, the whole interview earlier about the vampire and stuff, i just wanted your attention. I've been watching you from afar for at least 4 years now. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you Y/N, you're scent is to pure to ignore. I've always wanted a taste of you."

"So your saying, y-your the vampire in this case? Kim, what the hell is going on?"

"I'm sorry Y/N... i just- i cant hold it any-"

You kiss him on the lips. Slow and steady, you built it up, you cant even process what your doing, everything is going so fast.

He takes you by the wrists, and pushes you against the wall. His tongue makes his way into your mouth and he couldn't be any more needy for you. He slowly makes his hand down your pajamas and up your shirt, before it gets good, he bites your lip. Hard.

You pull back immediately and taste blood. Did he just, grab some of your blood? Your right. He did.

He pulls back and licks his lips. "Ive been wanting to do that for so long. You taste sweet, just like sugar."

"I've got a taste of you now. Don't expect this to end anytime soon."

you blink, and he's gone.

(a/n: i hope you enjoyed this. i was gonna make this just one part, but i decided to just put it into parts. this was one of my first fics ever, and i hope to make it so everyone can enjoy and be on edge. :) )

[koneko-pi]

DISTANT RELATIVES, CHAPTER TWO

Part twwooo I've made a tag-list for anyone who wants to be tagged when I post this one lol

wordcount: 2144

no warnings

"Ava…. Avaliniiiaa?" Nymphadora waved her hand several times in front of her elder sister's face to no reaction. "You have to be kidding me…"

She had been stuck in this state after they really got a handle on the situation they were in. The "infirmary" they were taken to was none other than the royal hospital within clover castle, the one Owen practically ran, and when he heard there were a couple of Silva's in need of some help he rushed right over. 

He looked so young. 

It frightened both the girls even as they sat down on a bed and were checked over carefully. While the doctor looked over Ava, Pucelle had been questioning Nymphadora on who they were and how they had gotten into that room before, as it was usually heavily guarded.

The girl had done her best to answer all her questions but it left everyone feeling more confused than anything else. Both Owen and Pucelle had decided it may have been best to call upon someone to check the legitimacy of their story, and so now the pair of them were not only waiting on Marx, but also Nozel.

"He's gonna kill uussss." Ava wailed after finally coming to her senses and falling back onto the bed. She covered her face with her hands and kicked her legs like a child in panic.

"Calm down!" Nymphadora scolded her. "You'll trigger another coughing fit!"

"How can I calm down!?" The girl sat straight up. "Father is coming here and he's gonna be so angry at us-!"

"He's not our father yet!" Nymphadora hissed the words out and covered Ava's mouth before glancing down towards the door. She caught sight of a few of the nurses quickly skittering away and she frowned. "I think we both know that stupid mirror sent us back in time…" she quickly moved to the door and closed it up so they wouldn't be spied upon again.

"How did they know we were his kids?" Ava asked with teary eyes.

"I don't think they did…" Nymphadora put a hand to her chin in thought. "We look like Silva's." They didn't even have to tell anyone their last names, Silva's made it a habit to wear their family insignia on their body, and Ava had it in four places. "And Dad is the head of the Silva family-" she was relieved they hadn't been sent back any farther. "-so naturally he would be involved in a couple of potential Silva kids no one knew about."

"I guess…" Ava turned over on the bed so she sat on her knees and leaned forward. "What do we tell him? Knowing information about the future is super dangerous, you know?"

With a Mother like Briar Rose the girls were well aware of the consequences magic or tools could have on things. Yet that never seemed to stop Nymphadora from touching things she really shouldn't be…

"I don't know…" the younger sister clicked her tongue in irritation. Honestly this seemed like a 'deal with things as they come' kind of situation. They couldn't prepare for it in any way. She was more concerned with how their presence may affect the future, were their parents even together yet?

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts and the muffled voice of Owen came through.

"May we come in?"

The girls glanced at one another. They couldn't do much else but let things play out, and roll with the punches the best that they could. "Yeah…"

The door opened and Owen walked in, smiling kindly at them. Following in afterwards were the much more serious looking Marx Francois and Nozel Silva. One of which looked thoroughly irritated to be pulled away from their work. Nozel probably thought this was all some prank, and that thought left a bitter taste in Nymphadora's mouth.

"How are you girls doing?" Owen asked in his friendly tone.

"I feel sick." Ava said honestly, feeling her future fathers gaze burning into her.

"It's just from nerves though." Nymphadora quickly added.

Owen wanted to comfort them somehow but…

Nozel stepped forward first. "Who are you two?"

Once again the pair glanced at one another. It was obvious they were hesitant to answer but Nozel wasn't in the mood for it.

"Using the Silva name for some prank could get you executed." He didn't mince his words and was even glaring at them.

"We aren't pranking anyone!" The youngest twin spun around to glare right back at him, and for a moment he looked caught off guard.

"We are Silva!" Ava pleaded. "But our… situation is…'' she still wasn't sure how to say it. Would saying it outright be easier? Should they try to hide it till they found a way back? But could they even do that on their own?

Slowly the girl's shoulders sagged.

Nymphadora didn't say anything, rather she continued to stubbornly hold Nozels' gaze. 

Until he suddenly stepped closer and stared into her eyes with interest.

"W-what?" The girl took a step back nervously when he was suddenly upon her.

"Your eyes." He said slowly, his own purple orbs coming into a squint. He leaned around to see Ava, who jolted at his burning gaze.

Nymphadora began to sweat. Why did they have to be born with their mothers' incredibly unique eye color?

"Marx…" Nozel slowly pulled back. "Look into their memories."

The girls took on a look of defeat. Now it didn't matter if they told them or not.

They couldn't really fight back as Marx did his thing and performed his magic. The girls only thought was tphat they wished his magic was more private, rather than display everything out in the open for everyone in the room to see.

Owen was the most amazed by it, as he watched some of Nymphadora's memories he was oohing and aahing with wide curious eyes.

"This is rather jarring…." Marx shut his magic down and hid his arms behind his cloak. "Nozel what do you- Nozel?" 

Both men turned to find the captain just to see him staring out a window with a disappointed look on his face and an obvious gloom cloud hanging over his head.

"Uh… sir…"

"Why did it have to be that woman?" He muttered bitterly.

The twins looked a little surprised at the reaction. Sure they had watched their parents bicker but it seemed to be out of fun. Poking one anothers buttons to get a rise out of them was something they usually did to each other, as if their love language was teasing each other.

So to see Nozel look so bitter over who his future wife was…

Ava suddenly fell back again and looked like she would cry. "I told you this was gonna be bad…"

"Ava-"

"What if they don't get together now because we were here-"

"AVA." Nymphadora smacked her sister's arm and she squealed.

"Well…" Marx stepped forward. "Once this issue is resolved I can remove the memories so nothing can affect the future."

The relief that washed over the girls was obvious.

"That being said… how did you get here?"

They gave their explanation and once again Nozel was looking bitter. "So it's HER fault too." How was it that all the weird things seemed to be connected to Briar somehow…

"No it isn't!" Nymphadora snapped angrily at him. "It's mine because I was doing something I shouldn't, don't get angry at mom for something she wasn’t even there for."

"Should you really be talking to your father in that tone?" Nozel glared at her.

"You're not my dad, yet." The girl shot back.

"Now now!" Owen moved between them before they could start any kind of fight. "We know it was one of Briars tools that created this little hiccup-"

"Little…"

"-so we merely need to ask her to help us fix it! Or to at least give us permission to let the girls pass back through the mirror."

"She isn't here." Nozel huffed.

"What do you mean?" Marx looked a little surprised.

"She's on a mission at the moment. Something personal came up and she's not in the capital currently." Nozel looked miffed. "I'm not sure when she is returning either."

"So then…" Ava slowly came into view behind her sister. "We can stay with you in the meantime?"

Nozel looked like he was about to object but Owen clapped his hands together to interrupt them. "That sounds like a great idea!"

"It does!?" Marx looked shocked.

"Why not? We certainly have no right to keep them cooped up here in the Hospital. And we can't simply use Briar's things without her permission. So long as they don't share any important information why not let them stretch their legs a little and live over at Silva Manor? They are Silva after all, technically."

The girls looked wide eyed as they so easily could be agreeing to this. But the deciding factor was… 

They looked to Nozel, who was off to the side watching them with a calculating gaze. Like he was weighing his options on what to do.

"Please…?" Ava pleaded with him, her eyes wide like a puppies.

Nozel let out a sigh and only nodded.

"Perfect!" Owen cheered. "You girls can go whenever you're ready."

"Thank you so much!"

Nymphadora looked down bitterly, once again it was the favorite child who got to Nozel's heart. She shouldn't have been that surprised, given their future….

"Oh wow everything is almost exactly the same!" Avalinia was bouncing around the foyer of the Silva manor, staring at paintings and vases that had not moved in the years they had been there.

"You really don't redecorate?" Nymphadora glanced to Nozel who didn't respond as he walked right past her. The girl huffed in disappointment.

"Who are they?" Solid's face twisted in confusion as he and his elder sister watched from the second floor walkway.

"Cousins maybe?" Nebra hummed as she tapped a finger against her cheek. "I've never seen them before."

"I assume you won't get lost or need a tour." Nozel said as he started climbing a wet of stairs.

"No sir." The younger twin responded. "So far it all seems to be the same…"

"Then do what you want." He turned his back on them. "Carefully."

Ava hummed as she moved to stand beside her sibling. "He seems… colder in the past…" she whispered.

"I don't see a difference." The other girl said blandly before she started walking away.

"Sister..?"

"I'm going out to the garden." It's obvious Nozel had no intention of spending time with them.

The other silva on the second floor watched as Ava flailed a little, noy sure what to do, before hurrying to follow her sibling.

A grin slowly grew across Solid's face. It's been a while since he had someone he could mess with….

"Come on." He said.

Nebra giggled to herself before she followed her younger brother.

tag list: @lyranova

[roosterbox]

October Almost-Drabbles 10/6: Bonfire

Pairing: Arthur/Eames (with a dash of Yusuf/Ariadne)

Word Count: 708

Additional tags: Teenage AU, only slightly fluffy, awkward crushes, not actually unrequited love

I swear, these ficlets just keep getting longer. If this trend continues, I’m gonna have to start putting them under a cut, lol.

———

Sitting around the fire, watching Eames gesticulate throughout his story, Arthur wondered for the dozenth time what kissing him would be like. He was only slightly ashamed to say that he was more captivated by Eames’ lips than he was by his words. So much so that he only realized the tale was finished by the applause of the others around him. He dutifully joined in, hoping they wouldn’t ask him any plot-related questions about it. At this point, only Ariadne knew about his little (aka massive) crush, and he wasn’t exactly keen to tell everyone else. Least of all Eames himself.

“What did you think, Arthur?” Eames asked.

Damn.

“It was… interesting.” Arthur answered lamely. He hoped that would suffice. From Eames’ raised eyebrow, he knew that hope was dashed.

“‘Interesting?’ Such a ringing endorsement. What was your favorite part, then?”

Arthur could feel several pairs of eyes on him. His face felt hot, but at least the light of the fire helped disguise his flushed cheeks. “The, um-“ Think, Arthur, think! And don’t lie; you’re terrible at it! “-the way you tell it.” Eames opened his mouth to reply, but Arthur continued. “The way you tell stories is… really cool. The way you talk, and move your hands. Sometimes I feel like I could listen to you read the phone book and still be entertained.”

The other boy seemed slightly flustered by this. “Ah, well…” he shrugged and scratched at his shorn hair. “I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, you know.”

“Trust me Eames, we definitely know.” Dom wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Now come on. I need a hand to help me grab the other cooler out of my truck.”

As he watched them walk back to the cars, Arthur felt a puff of breath against his ear.

“You weren’t actually listening, were you?” Ariadne whispered. He shook his head, eyes still on Eames. “Are you gonna say something to him?” Another head shake. Eames looked back at them. He smiled and waved; Arthur waved back.

Ari let out a groan of frustration. “Pathetic. I’m gonna be a grandma before any real action happens.”

“At least your dress sense won’t change.”

She smacked him. “Asshole,” said with a smile before she headed back over to sit with Yusuf. Her boyfriend kissed her cheek and then handed her a burger. Arthur moved to sit on the other side of the fire, across from them. His own burger was still a bit warm, to his surprise. He took a couple bites, but found that he wasn’t all that hungry.

Someone plopped down on the bench next to him.

“Alright if I sit here?” Eames asked. Arthur coughed, and swallowed his mouthful of food. Probably should have chewed it a bit more, but he got it down.

“Sure,” he smiled, and hoped it wasn’t too awkward-looking. Eames smiled back, so… mission accomplished?

Their attention was quickly drawn back to the fire. To Mal, standing before it, gearing up to tell her own spooky tale. Like Eames, she too had a certain flair for the dramatic, and Arthur couldn’t help but be entranced.

A few minutes into the story, Arthur felt a weight on his knee. Eames’ hand. Just sitting there, not grabbing. A gentle touch. Perhaps hesitant. Mentally, Arthur was panicking a bit. What should I do? What does this mean? Should I do anything? Does he actually like me?

Eames was still watching Mal, quite oblivious to Arthur’s inner back-and-forth. He kept his hand right where it was, as if this was just a Thing they did all the time. But soon, all too soon, Arthur felt the weight ease up. The hand was rising. Does he think I’m uncomfortable? Wait, of course he does - I haven’t reacted at all!

Despite his nerves, despite his slightly shaking hands, Arthur covered Eames’ hand with his own, bringing both back down to his knee. He gave it a squeeze. Neither said anything, but Arthur saw Eames turn towards him in his peripheral vision. The other boy’s brilliant smile calmed something in Arthur’s wildly beating heart, and they settled in, legs pressed close together, listening to Mal weave a ghost story neither would remember after tonight.

[x-neurotoxin-x]

also me back lol (just gonna call myself 🩰 anon until i Can make a new account AHSKSJS)

can we talk about how the fandom will actively deny that enji still abused his entire family? “oh, he just neglected them! he never hit them! he just hit shoto and rei (once)!” NEGLECT IS STILL ABUSE???? also touya/dabi says, “a familiar scene” which implies that he was also physically abused by enji (example also shown when he’s holding himself and crying; seeing shoto in the same fetal position when he returns back to his home after the coma, etc).

also, that bullshit “atonement” arc with enji…. so because he got what he wanted (not in the way he wanted but still got the end results that he was searching for), and gave these bullshit ass apologies, lives by himself, he’s now supposed to be seen as GOOD? because he’s “trying?” i, 100%, believe that if all might hadn’t had retired, enji would still be the same person he was shown as, if not worse.

shoto is still, what, a first year??? i do not believe that enji changed that fast when he was abusing his family for 20+ and felt no guilt whatsoever. he played eugenics, degraded and neglected his kids and wife, and NOW he’s sorry after he became number one???? i am calling BULLSHIT 😭😭

that was a lot but i wanted to ramble in your inbox because i really like your stories -🩰

Hi again!!

Yeah I'm not quite sure why the fandom can be in such denial of Endeavor's abuse when it's such a big part of his character, or see it in a very narrow view way (the whole "he only abused Shouto/Rei" thing, the "he actually wasn't abusive until Shouto" thing, etc etc) they lack reading comprehension I think. People saying Natsuo and Fuyumi weren't abused also just lack basic knowledge on abuse if they contribute abuse to strictly physical violence and ignore that there's many forms of abuse, like neglect, emotional abuse, and having the kids be witness to physical abuse (ie Natsuo and Fuyumi huddled together covering their ears as Enji abused Rei)

They also just ignore any and all evidence or implications of Touya's trauma and boil it down to "he wanted attention," when he was a product of an arranged marriage and eugenics, clearly groomed from a very young age to live out his Father's ambitions, heavily implied to had been physically abused in a similiar way Shouto was with the training even if it "wasnt as intense" and then cast aside and withheld a relationship with his Father after it came to light he was basically disabled. Not to mention he was severely socially isolated, engaging in self harm and internalized Endeavor's abuse, and somehow aware his Mother was sold to his Father and that he was conceived through eugenics (which is a HUGE thing I think the fandom overlooks how completely horrific it is that he was aware of that from such a young age and it clearly had an impact on how he viewed himself). A lot of the fandom acts like he wasn't mistreated or abused by Enji when he very clearly was, it was just a whole lot heavier on the emotional aspect and how it broke him down psychologically, and the physical and emotional wasn't presented as in-your-face and clear-cut as it was with Shouto for example.

The Todoroki family plot is a whole lot mpte complex than I think a lot of the fandom understands, and so many aspects are completely brushed aside or overlooked and i think that's why people are jumping on the "endeavors changed/wasn't all that bad" train.

[bisluthq]

Guys, Olivia turned a tote bag with his album cover inside out and wore it for two months after she and Harry broke up. That anon fighting for their life to act like she’s not certifiably insane is gonna pull several muscles.

It’s fine! She’s just crazy. It’s okay.

What Harry felt about the whole thing is impossible to know. We can only speculate. Him watching that story could be what the other anon said that it was pics of her with Shelli Azoff so he was “worried”, it could legit be just accidentally watching from a DM. The fan account could’ve tagged him and hid it (it’s very easy to do that), or yeah, he could’ve kept tabs on her, either because idk he was feeling nostalgic or because he was head over heels for her still.

Frankly, I don’t think that one isolated incident means much of anything. We have no indication that he’s still into Olivia in any way. I totally see your point Nat, tho, so we should wait and see. But we know what’s public and what’s public is that she acted insane, and she did it very recently as well. Like, she actually did follow a second White Cube account right after Harry was seen there in March this year.

We’ll probably know Harry’s side of the story when his album comes out. Or at least part of it.

yeah let’s wait for the album lol and/or more info. Rn we’re all just guessing. I - personally - will say I don’t know and I do think like in my bones she’s involved in some way in this current break but I’m guessing lol like based on what I think they’d do not like because I know them? And she’s legit nuts dudes but he’s also not an Angel and idk Taylor R seems chill and better than all this mess lol.

[ghost-town-story]

So, as you may have guessed from the random snippets, I have a new WIP lol. So, while I'm still fixating on it, have a worldbuilding ramble :D

So the idea originally came about because I was worldbuilding for Knighttime Dreams, and I came up with a new character that I immediately fell in love with. Problem was, there was basically no room for him in KD, which made me real sad. And then I thought, what if I just give him his own story?

And now here we are lol

Unnamed Superhero WIP has 2 story lines. The first is centered around Isabelle, a college student and wannabe hero, and Stella and Julian, twins who own the local cafe and seem to be hiding secrets. The second follows Izzy's hero alter-ego, Despereaux, and his encounters with the necromancer Revenant.

So, superheroes are a thing, how the fuck does society function? Greeeeat question. Villains gonna villain cause that's basically a requirement of the genre (tho they will get more solid motivations as I flesh them out. at least one (not Revenant) wants to create a sorta zombie army for.... reasons?). Vigilantes are frowned upon, if not straight up illegal (depending on where you are). So if you wanna be a hero, there's basically 2 above-board ways to do it. 1. recruitment 2. sorta the equivalent of going to college for it

What's the difference?

Recruitment is only for the best of the best, those with powers so strong they're hard to hide or tone down. It can also be a little iffy, because it does require parental consent, but a solid 98% of the time that's a non-issue. Hero worship hella is a thing. Anyways, recruitment can happen at any age, and kids who are recruited end up in a sort of boarding school for hero training. After graduating (ages 15-18 depending on powers/how quick they pick up training/how well they do in sidekick roles), they'll get chosen for a team or department. More on that later :)

The college equivalent is for those who weren't good enough to get recruited, or those few who are part of the 2% who didn't get permission for hero work. People who go this route often end up in support roles or lesser known teams.

Now what the fuck am I talking about with teams and departments?

Heroes are split up into two broad categories: Combat and Support. Combat heroes are the ones who go out and fight villains directly, with all the danger (and glory) that comes along with that. They're split up into different teams, which is currently an arbitrary decision that I'll rationalize later :P

Support heroes are the ones doing more behind-the-scenes stuff, like reconnaissance, civilian evacuations, and medics. Some hero teams have support heroes in them, while others will just hire a support as needed. Supports-for-hire are separated into different departments, some examples being recon, evac, backup, or medics.

There is a severe distinction between a hero's civilian identity and their hero identity. When doing hero work, they'll often be wearing some sort of mask and a vocoder to disguise their voice at minimum.

When they graduate, heroes are given a tattoo on their right hand to mark what team or department they work for. But to keep up the barrier between civilian and hero identity, heroes will wear a glove to cover the tattoo.

But wait, doesn't that defeat the point of trying separate civilian/hero identities if everybody knows they're a hero? Not exactly. There's a difference between "Yeah I'm a hero" *no indication of team or department* vs. "Yeah I'm a hero in this department/on this 5 person team/etc". Plus, the point of the tattoos is so that, if an emergency happens when they're off duty, a hero can show the tattoo to whoever is helping evac/keep civilians out of the area, and they'll get clearance to go in and help.

But despite the fame and glory, there's a dark side to the industry, hiding behind locked doors where the cameras can't see.

Best case scenario for a hero: you retire at a nice age, and get to live the rest of your life in luxury and mild fame.

Second best case scenario: you burn out early and life the rest of your life in middling wealth and fame.

Most common scenario, especially for recruited kids: the system chews you up and spits you out, and you're lucky if you retire with less than 4 major injuries. If you even make it to retirement.

~

And a couple of rapid-fire heroes, villains, and in-betweens

Despereaux - hero-in-training, mouse shapeshifter. Name may change later, but for now, I am not clever lol

Revenant - vigilante, necromancer

Chameleon - former hero, human shapeshifter

Jellyfish - former hero, steals knowledge

Apollo - semi-retired hero, healer. Name also may change later.

Unnamed right now but currently the only villain with a "full" story arc. Can control plants, and is the one trying to make a zombie army (and pissing off Revenant in the process (Revenant is very possessive of corpses))

[melye1981]

To Everyone Who Wants To Know What It's Really Like... To Have Mental Illness... Read this:

Hello, today is Freak out Friday. LOL Um, I am mentally ill, I struggle with it daily, have since I quit having Epileptic seizures around age 10. Didn't know I was mentally ill until I was 27. My parents knew there was SOMETHING wrong, but they couldn't pinpoint it. Sent me to several psychologists when I was a kid and they still couldn't put their finger on it. So, clueless psychologists? Yeah, total quacks. Mental illness is not a joke, not somethin' to ignore when people who are mentally ill, are hitting rock bottom. Be there for them. Even if they say the classic "I'm fine" comment, NO. Stay. You could be the reason they DON'T do any self harm, and I mean something else, y'all know what I mean, I guess we're not allowed to say the "s" word on YouTube now, so gotta be careful, but yeah, your willingness to lend an ear could save a life. Literally. You have no idea what hell mental illness truly is, unless you have it yourself. I'm telling you this from the inside, lookin' out... You're seeing it as from the outside, lookin' in. You only see the cover of the book, but you have to be read the pages, and you won't know the story, unless it's read to you. You get what I mean? Every person is different, every mental illness is different, everyone's way of coping is different. Not one mentally ill person's story is gonna match another's. We can empathize, but we can't be them and their shoes. I only know the miles I've walked in MY shoes. I could try to get you to understand, and you might, a little, but unless you have mental illness yourself, you really have no idea of the hell it brings. I once told someone, this is how I describe my bipolar mind/borderline personality mind: Think of that ride at the fair called The Gravitron. You get in, lean up against the walls, and the ride starts. You get spun really fast one direction, and you stick to the wall, and you could injure yourself if you move the wrong way, then the ride slows a bit, then starts going back the other direction. By the time you get off the ride, you can't walk straight. That's the only way I can describe what that feels like. Wikipedia has great insight if you want to know more, but that is by textbook definition, they're not lying, but it's a general explanation. When you get the information from a mentally ill person themselves, that is the God's honest truth. And it's more brutal than Wikipedia makes it out to be. I take meds every day, but I still have days where I'm just not myself. It is part of who I am, but it does not define me. My mental illness is the result of a careless man who gave me his DNA through my mom, to put it more appropriately, while he was high on H. and so that's what I believe contributed to both my mental illness, learning disabilities, and Epilepsy. But I'm grown now, so I have to just swallow the facts like I drink water. I'm still alive, and there is one thing I find that's special about mentally ill people: The majority of mentally ill people have a high I.Q. and are talented in one way or another. So, I can either cry about being mentally ill, or I can embrace it and say, hey, at least I was blessed with music, art, writing, singing, playing instruments, and speaking and singing in foreign languages as an added blessing to my life. I have talents, many of them, I was blessed in that. Now, trying to keep my mental illness in check while exercising those talents is another thing. It's hit or miss sometimes. It's not easy, but I do it. I get up every morning and I'm here. I am not a victim. No sir. I'm a warrior. That's facts. #AquariusThinkLikeThatTho I am also a survivor of a near-fatal "s" attempt. Been ten years since I tried to end it all, and God wants me here for whatever reason. I wouldn't say I'm a curse. I'm here for a reason. It's never gonna be easy. But I make due with what I've got and the tools God and the world have given me. Now to put them to use and stay focused. It's not easy, but I'm doin' it. Gotta prove the devil wrong

[shawnjacksonsbs]

Ultimately, "it's all me. (Not to be confused with "it's all about me." Lol no lol). Your "It's" are all you just the same as mine are all me.       4-22-23

 "Once you open your eyes to the pattern . . .

Remember you're the one who wrote the list of priorities. You certainly have the power to implement them" - Dr. Richard Carlson

 *Side note

The pic attached is a note, in its raw original state. It's to show that sometimes my feelers are too much for the minute that I'm writing it, so I'm trying to be sure to not forget every part of it.

For the ones I might edit later, like this one. Lol

**Another important Side note

Dollar bucks are a thing from Bluey. If you haven't already seen at least one or two of their episodes, you should. If you have any kind of human intellect and emotional range whatsoever, you'll enjoy it. . .with or without kids. Promise.

I messed up.

Explain

(So. . .what had happened was, I left part of the material off a pretty large job. Therefore the estimate, which was already squeezed pretty tight, was off. We, of course, won the bid, and I ended up finding my error.)

1500 dollar bucks worth of messed up.

In our infancy.

(It’s not a mistake I make regularly. Its actually quite rare, but. . .whatever. It’s uncomfortable to say the least. Its not a company killing mistake, but only because we generated enough revenue between several jobs to cover the difference in cost. It will come out in the end, of course which hinders the profit side, but $1500 on $17,500 can be . . . worked around and wrote off in different places. Thanks to and for, my salesmen/business colleagues/friends/brothers for landing 2 pretty sizeable jobs.

I was actually told I am allowed some grace. . .

I do put my everything into this company. Playing every position or helping is something of a hobby of mine, that’s kills endurance with office work. lol

(Here's where you guys who read these entries throw a life preserver (or a word of encouragement or two). C'mon guys, I need to know you can help me. Lol no lol

I always talk about wanting to hire a "me" to work with me. You know someone who will work hard, with the same work ethic, knowledge, etc etc.

But I don't know if I could do that.  You know, like really work for me. I might be an asshole to work for.

I mean, trying to live up to my expectations is a lot for anyone, including me. I set the bar pretty high.

I mean, I'm pretty sure my kid thinks so, so . . . Lol no lol

Struggling with deciding whether to plan to work through weekends to cover up coming bad weather days or to do family related thing.

I'm back n forth in my head constantly. My heart seems to be leaning one way, obviously, whether it's gonna cost me in the long run or not. Lol

I also tell myself that as long as I don't make a habit or doing this or that, then it's not letting the one side over shadow the other.

I can write my story however I want. There is no destiny or karma at work here.

As I write, I know I'm going to choose family, then rush to fill in work stuff(s), so I don't know what I'm on about.

I imagine a lot of copying and pasting is in my future. As I'm not going to have a ton of time to edit this before I post.

Story time will probably be a straight punch through as well, but as long as I'm still doing both . . . there’s no failing them, or me.

And its 4-20-23 (Happy High Day mofos), a Thursday, we just went and picked up my oldest son, (I don't know) and we got to see the girls for a minute.

Bonus.

If I hadn't already decided about taking Saturday off to see them, it's definitely sealed now.  Lol

Sunday still going to be a catch all for work. Eh, maybe more than that but yeah.

I might just see if I can get another note or two in here before I post, and call it good for the week.

We'll see.

*Well nothing new to report.

I took the day off, as we figured I would. My oldest son, pretty much been asleep the whole time he’s been here, but no expectations this time. It’s not a get right forever plan. So . . .

And a very special Happy Birthday to my stepdaughter. She deserves the world, but I'm sure she'll settle for a happy, stress free family life, which she also deserves! And to her old man, whose birthday lunch is being combined with today. Lol

I’m still trying to decide if I should pull my granddaughter off to the side before the tournament and teach the crane technique. I mean . . .”If do right, no can defense.”

 Please let’s keep encouraging each other, against all odds, to be the love, light, and kindness the world needs. Keep sharing your laughter too. That will never change either!! Light the way with it!

Until next week;

"A friend of mine taught me a powerful lesson that I always try to remember. He said, "In reality, you vote with your actions, not your words." This means that while I can tell you that my friends and family are important to me, I can write well-intended lists, and I can even become defensive in my well-thought-out excuses, ultimately, the measure of what's most important to me is how I spend my time and energy. " - Dr. Richard Carlson

 P.S. I'm pretty sure he watched me before . . .maybe not even in my old life. Lol no lol