#torn between writing for myself in that i write my own experience

[ghoulodont]

mere hours into even considering this fic concept and im already tearing my hair out about logistical details and researching everything. there so many different experiences in this beautiful world and i have to pick between which to write

tangentially related: if the ministry is in sweden (is it??) then why are so many people italian

[divinesangel]

— 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

pm me for a personal reading!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

my dearest,

as i write this letter to you, my heart is filled with excitement and anticipation for the life we will share together. every word i write comes from a place of genuine affection and admiration. there's nothing i would love more than to shower you with my affection in love, the love that i've been saving to myself for many years now. i've been waiting for you for such a long time and i still am. i can't wait for the day that we get to do endless things together, visit, many places, and do many things together. you inspire me to grow and to expand myself in ways i haven't been able to before. i'm quite eager to see our future together unfolding in abundance and prosperity. i'm pretty sure we will build a life filled with stability, harmony, and security, which is more than i could ever ask for. i will protect our connection and our home will be like a sanctuary, a place where love and joy will be present, and where we will be able to create our own family.

you need to know that i will always stick by you through thick and thin, to support you in anything that you need, in your endeavors and your dreams, and to always work to make our connection happen and for our future family to thrive. i'm pretty sure that we will be able to any storm that comes our way. although sometimes i'd rather keep the bad news to myself so you don't have to experience any negativity, i promise to always communicate with you and show you my commitment to honesty and transparency, even when the truth may be difficult to face.

i will always cherish you and take care of you. my love for you knows no bounds, and i am thankful for every moment we share. your happiness is my greatest priority, and i will do everything in my power to ensure that you feel loved, cherished, and appreciated each and every day. with you as my partner, i know that anything is possible.

until we meet again, know that you hold my heart in your hands, now and forever.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

my love,

my heart overflows with warmth and anticipation for the journey that lies ahead of us. it's as if fate itself has brought us together and knew that we were always meant to be together. even if we haven't met yet, i just know that our connection will be instant as i feel the sparks even now. it's all gonna be magical, reminding me that our story is guided by something greater than ourselves. i'm impatient for the day we will get to experience that. my soul fell for you the moment it entered my body.

every time i think of you, my mind drifts back to the innocence and purity of childhood, like the sweet nostalgia. you remind me of something sweet, although distant. it's probably due to our souls knowing each other for lifetimes, finding solace and comfort in the familiarity of our bond.

my greatest desire is to see you happy, to witness the glow of joy radiating from your being and being there by your side to see you overflow with happiness; being there for you every time you need me. i know you'll be there for me as well, and it such a comfort for my heart. hand in hand, we can make anything possible.

with all my love, your future spouse

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

my most precious,

i find myself grappling with the complexities of life, feeling torn between the various paths laid out before me. there are moments when i question whether i am truly ready for what lies ahead, whether i possess the strength and clarity to navigate the challenges that await. the truth is, my love, there are aspects of my life that i am still coming to terms with, aspects that fill me with uncertainty and doubt. i am confronted with decisions that demand my attention, choices that require me to confront my deepest fears and desires.

but then, amidst the chaos of my mind, there is you. with you, my love, everything changes. in your presence, i find a sense of peace and clarity that i have never known before. it's as if the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders, and suddenly, everything feels possible. you have this remarkable way of making me feel like everything will be alright. your unwavering faith in me, your boundless love and support—it fills me with a sense of courage and conviction that i never knew i possessed.

there are many things i'd like to talk to you about that have to do with how i've been feeling. things that i've never dared to tell anyone else out of fear they might not get it as well as you will. i've experienced dark times in the past that i'm trying to come into terms with, and i will tell you all about it.

it's as if you are my guiding light, leading me through the darkness and showing me the way forward. yes, there may still be moments of doubt and uncertainty, but with you, my love, i know that i am not alone. with you, i feel as though i can face whatever the future may hold with courage and grace.

yours always, x

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

hi! it's daphne here.

i'm currently offering personal readings for €5 ($5.43) so don't hesitate to send me a private message if you're interested!

thank you for being here!

[songoftrillium]

On Charachs, Queerness, and Subculture in Werewolf: the Apocalypse

I was born in the heart of Steinbeck country, caught between two generations—Gen X and Millennial—and rejected by both. My coming of age as a queer person in a small farm town during the late 90s was a period of loneliness and personal horror. I had no Queer elders, because almost all of them were dead, or grieving the dead. I lived a life feeling a nameless longing and sickness in my heart that had no name at the time. I only knew I was Queer because that's the label others used for me. At the time, it was a name that meant danger for the person with the label, because, for whatever reason, that person doesn't fit. Other labels were used for me of course, among them, "fairy" and "faggot" were the most common, usually accompanied by some other hellish delight the day had for me.

You see, a person with that label, is a person who lived in deep fear. And so, it became the name people used to call anything they considered "bad." This is, in many ways, why claiming titles formerly used for harm is important. I'm Queer, and that's something nobody can take away from me. I'm proud that I don't fit. I experience things in a season that others won't experience in their lifetimes. I've loved many, and felt loved, when I felt like the world was its darkest and bleakest, and at times, those were the only things that helped me get through. But in the 90s, I was on my own. It would be almost a decade until I find my people, or even a name for my orientation, the things that made me different, or even that I myself were capable of changing. I felt a longing that itself felt like a wild animal inside me that I could only barely control - but I did it, for my own safety. I don't blame anyone else that did it to survive either. I didn't start transitioning until I was well into my 30s and had already lost everything else. I was shocked I'd even lived to my 30s, because I never knew a queer person who did.

Back then though, I found my sense of self in Werewolf: the Apocalypse, and it resonated with me on a visceral level that still affects who I am today. It gave a sudden name and a face to the things I felt so isolated about. The game didn't just see me, the writers did too, and at the time, that was everything. At the core, Werewolf is about queerness—living in a body that like it doesn't belong to you, facing unprecedented changes, psychological and literal, and grappling with identity. This is the essence of my life and the lives of many others, reflected in the World of Darkness. There are many that consider the pllight of the Garou to be childish or pointless, much like what I experienced in a society that told me I didn't belong. Its easy to write horror when you see and interact with monsters every day of your life.

The struggles queer people face are mirrored in Garou. You have your first change, and your entire world is torn apart. Family and friends vanish, replaced by a complex culture war fought on multiple fronts, united in purpose but divided in methodology and conviction. United they could overcome anything in the world, but their differences presence intense cultural intersections that have to be navigated as a matter of roleplay. Yet it’s more than just a battle against those who wish for our annihilation—it’s against an apathetic public that considers the very idea of saving the earth to be childish, our supposed allies that say they care but only when it gets them the ends they desire, and internal conflict.

The term “charach,” with its negative connotations in the World of Darkness universe, can be seen as parallel to the queer experience. Just as the Garou labeled as charachs face discrimination, ostracism, and ridicule for their attraction to their own kind, so do queer individuals in the real world when they step out of the essentialist heteronormative paradigm. The fear, shame, and sense of alienation that a garou might feel upon realizing their attraction towards another garou mirrors the experience of many queer individuals, especially those coming to terms with their identity or those who are struggling to find a label that accurately represents who they are. When you experience trauma after trauma together, the only ones you trust enough to be vulnerable with are the ones you've bled with, literally and emotionally.

In the World of Darkness universe, the term “charach” refers to a Garou who violates the Litany - the set of laws that the Garou follow - by mating with another Garou, regardless of their sexual orientation or ability to procreate. The offspring of such unions, known as “crinos,” are characterized by sterility and supernatural afflictions, which reflects upon the parents’ transgression. Nevertheless, there are layers to this depiction that parallel the struggles of real-world marginalized communities. The charach taboo isn’t solely about childbearing; it applies to all relationships between Garou, even those that don’t result in offspring, thus encapsulating homosexual, bisexual, and queer couples within its scope - and beyond. This taboo essentially echoes homophobic sentiments in the real world, which, at their core, are about enforcing the colonial notion of bioessential gender roles as a sign of social civility. Moreover, the crinos - children of these taboo unions - are often physically deformed, a feature that unfortunately paves the way for players to caricature real-world disabilities. The narrative almost codifies the abuse of these characters, presenting a problematic portrayal of disability. This aspect can resonate with the experiences of those in the queer community who also identify as disabled, further deepening the parallel between the charach experience and the queer experience.

Of course, in the original game, these offspring weren’t referred to as crinos-born but had appropriated the name of an actual existing tribe. I won’t elaborate on why that is bad. Its bad.

The World of Darkness game sessions in the 1990s, where I sought refuge, were dominated by older, mostly cisgender, heterosexual white Gen X players, the Vampire players in particular who sought to make me feel as unwelcome as they could manage in their spaces. This started as the Storyteller's friends killing my character the moment play started, and as more players joined the game, evolved into a hazing ritual that got so extreme is culminated in players attempting murder and made the news. I soon realized that if I wanted a safe space at the tabletop, I had to create it myself. What I think is the most disappointing of all is that I still feel that way about the latest editions, who seem to have made it a marketing gimmick to build their platform on encouraging their fans to attack older fans, including myself and other queer fans of the game who committed no sin other than merely loving the game. If I want a truly safe and inclusive game, its still on me to provide that. The fact alone that the tradition of treating queer players as tokens at best and targets to attack at worst, well, dress it how you like, but its just a continuation of the same harmful environment that sees the regular ejection of queer players from its midst. Whatever that is, it doesn't look, smell, or act like progress.

The World of Darkness I cultivated does not echo the caricatures of the game portrayed by the older players, and perhaps it was naive of me to expect them to fix their hearts. My World of Darkness provides an authentic reflection of my experiences, my struggles, my own fears and horrors, and the wider queer community’s realities. It offers an immersive narrative that resonates deeply with those who identify with it. To reorient “charach” away from its problematic roots without erasing its core identity could be a potent representation of the queer experience. In this context, the identity of a charach, much like queer identity, is a source of strength.

The world is still scary, and only getting scarier. When the gaping void howls for our blood, stand up, and be the one to howl back in challenge. We can't depend on the majority in the room to be on our side, because they never were to begin with. We have eachother, and that's everything.

Show your charach pride!

[en-djinn]

yt playlist link

i do character playlists a lot coz i find them very fun and it gets me to find new stuff in genres im not as familiar with, since i like to match the genre to the char. tho im a picky person w music so some chars i just cannot make playlists for. luckily all the chars i tend to like feel very similar to my own tastes. anyway, that is to say-

this one is a MESS tonally and in range of genre but everything felt right and i think that honestly fits with adam anyway. i wanted to get some of his melancholy, his suicidal thoughts, his messianic symbolism, his struggle with identity, and the freedom that comes with letting go and becoming magus. theres something about the way he can only truly be happy if hes dead/in soulworld or become the magus that kinda speaks to me.

i split it into two halves, one for warlock and one for magus. i wanted the first half, warlock, to be a little more distant and soft. somber. and then get more energetic/aggressive as it goes to magus, who should be full of strange whimsical sounding songs with that aggressive undertone. luckily thats something thts very easy for me to find as it overlaps with my own music tastes entirely (though i had to resist adding fleshgod apocalypse coz i feel that their symphonic death metal fits SO good. i might do another magus playlist later filled with my own indulgences. which means all (mostly black, obviously) metal. i also had to resist adding vrazorth but if u are interested in experimental/avant garde metal i HIGHLY recommend checking out their album 'emergence', they call it cosmic black metal and it sounds awesome). unfortunately im also a huge fan of 40k and i was THIS close to putting smth off the darktide ost on it too. (warp traveller or embrace of the chaos cult specifically but honestly 40k stuff just Fits for it regardless. the mix of weird out of place sounds and the choirs and stuff. listen to the mechanicus ost if u havent already btw its an Experience). also anyone who knows me will know yes i WAS fighting the urge to add the 21m long experimental track "I" by meshuggah. that thing calls to me like the green goblin mask. if u have the time i also recommend it. it was only out of sympathy for the listeners who will most likely not be into that genre that i abstained. the warlock side was a little harder for me since i was torn between going with my own tastes entirely (metalcore/emo and jungle) and going with what i think actually fits him as a character (prog rock). ive listened to prog rock before but im not super knowledgeable on it and i only tend to like the stuff that starts to overlap with industrial or more aggressive sounds. i knew i had to add king crimson and luckily i HAVE listened to a lot of their stuff before, tho not the entire discography so there might be something better fitting from them but i liked the tone of the one i ended up choosing. i also wanted to add macroblank to the warlock side but i dont use spotify and they only upload entire albums to youtube, not individual songs. either way. it sure ended up with not much prog rock. but i adore the soft floaty sort of sounds for him so i couldnt resist adding more of that.

and ive had people ask me before 'why not just add everything onto ur playlists' and the reason is i much prefer making smaller highly curated ones. it makes me think about it harder and rly consider Why something deserves to be on there.

so yeah. i just wanted this one to be weird and abstract. its my favourite thing about adam. and about jim starlin's art and writing. he occupies the same space in my brain as american mcgee's alice.

i dont normally write stuff like this coz i hate explaining myself, but i thought id give it a try this time. i could go over why i added every song but that feels a little overkill and i dont think i have that much more to say anyway. unless someone asks specifically. also i have some ideas for a more upbeat 80s-2000s pop quillock playlist for later when i get rly inspired. i love music, man.

anyway heres the full playlist as text:

Goldfrapp - Utopia

Sengoku Cyber: Fujimaru Jigokuhen OST - Winner Takes All

Nelward - The Sum of All Our Sirens

Queens of the Stone Age - My God Is The Sun

King Crimson - Happy With What You Have To Be Happy With

Troldhaugen - Catoptric Contortions

Polkadot Cadaver - A Wolf in Jesus Skin

Nine Inch Nails - The Becoming

Carpenter Brut - Leather Terror

Behemoth - Ora Pro Nobis Lucifer

and heres the png of the repeating bg. tried to clean it up a little.

[neteyamyawne]

🪷 — After-chase

୭ ˚. Pairing : RDA!avatar!Jake x Avatar!fem!reader

୭ ˚. summary : after the Thanator chase, both of you needed a blow off and what's better than to experiment what your new bodies can do, in the middle of the forest?

୭ ˚. Warning : Blowjob, alien genitalia, cock sucking, taking turns, little edging, oral (M receiving)

୭ ˚. Note : @blue-slxt baby your post was just too tempting to leave it as it is, it's just a drabble but i might write more once I get my laptop.

The smell of damp soil filled your nose as your tongue swirled on the pretty pink tip of his cock leaking beads of bioluminescent precum on your tongue, the night was alive and being lost and away from the lab, it was the perfect chance to see what your avatar bodies can do…together.

He had himself propped up on one elbow, his t-shirt torn and ripped in places and so was yours after the Thanator chase, which was one of the reason for have enough adrenaline to even try this out, the forest alive and glowing in the dark night while his hand was tangled in your dark locks, eyes hooded, trousers down enough to get the job done, yours was already thrown somewhere in the heat of the moment, his lips parted and fangs on display, the perfect image of lust and desire.

your head bobbed up and down on his length, 12 inches down in your throat, your throat muscles tightening and gagging around him, but your haze filled mind took no notice to it, the sweet trickle of your saliva coating his cock and your chin in a perfect layer of sheen, eyes rolling back as a loud groan left his lips, his fangs making another appearance as he bites his lower lip, cock twitching in your mouth as you still continued to peak his orgasm, prolong it as long as you can, his grip tightening on your hair as he pushed your head down to take him deeper.

your groans of protest muffled by his twitching cock deep in your throat, your hands on his thighs, holding him for dear life "Fuck y/n- agh, you better swallow, you little slut" he said looking down at you in between his thighs, head still bobbing on his cock, his voice breathy, chest heaving, eyes half lidded, the never leaving smirk on his face widening at you gagging state, with a few more bobs of your head, up & down with the tip of your tongue now pressed on his slit, only the head of his cock in between your lips, a little pressure from your own fangs on his aroused flesh was inching him towards his abyss.

the lipgloss you previously applied was now mixed with his precum and your saliva, leaving his cock glistening wet, with a Heavy groan from him, he pushed your head down on him again, your muffled cries went unheard as he bucked his hips thrusting in a little as he shot the load down your throat, head thrown back, lips apart and panting heavily trying to catch his breath, his grip on your hair loosening as he slumped down on the forest floor, swallowing every single drop of his warm drizzle of cum, you sat up still on your knees, a trail of milky white line dripped down your chin mixing with the saliva already present, when he tugged on your hand, making you get on top of him before sliding down even more so he was directly facing your wet pussy, already dripping "my turn, sweetheart, now sit down babygirl…." He whispered against your wet lips with his tongue lolling out.

A/n : i couldn't help myself to wait till my laptop was here , i had to write that down, I'm feral for RDA Jake!

Yawne : @fanboyluvr, @callmeoncette, @lu-the-ghost-reader, @brisbriskett, @saltedcoffeescotch, @ducks118, @itscheybaby, @jackiehollanderr, @elriel-4-ever, @zoetrope1997, @yeosxxx, @persefolli, @im-in-a-pansexual-panik, @teyamsbitch, @elijangwifey, @erosthefae, @murderbirbdany, @thearabloak06, @killua2dot0, @ilovechickenwings, @kylobensgirl, @darling-imobsessed, @majathepapaya, @sweetirilly.

©Neteyamyawne2023 | All Rights Reserved. Do not repost on other platforms, copy, steal, or translate any of my works!

[stromuprisahat]

Second Army disorganization

Siege and Storm- Chapter 14

One of the most frustrating and famously nonsensical passages of Grisha trilogy, easily explained through doylist approach- the author's inability to write strategy or politics and demands of the genre, requiring a weak, unfit heroine to defeat immensely powerful opponent way out of her league:

Alina: Oh no, they dare to oppose me again! :(

Isn't that why would you want to establish a council in the first place? So you get constructive criticism and suggestions to do things better?!

My objections to the notion Alina came up with representation of Grisha can't be more obvious:

Army is a structured organization. There are ranks and councils by default. No amount of ignorant teens will persuade me calling it "Second" makes it otherwise.

Any big organization has a structure. Even if Second Army were only about education, there would be councils and posts on different levels. Hell, school system works that way.

Alina: I'm gonna have the useless ones represented, because we're not doing things like the Darkling, but that doesn't mean I'll respect them myself or abandon my prejudices. Fucking nerds. Weidos...

Another YA nonsense- you cannot put people into categories based on their physical predispositions, and expect the mental ones to fit accordingly. You can have a huge, muscled guy, skilled in delicate handiwork. You can have a tiny wisp of a girl beating the living shit out of you (popular trope by itself).

Now why should sensitivity to metals get you a spot in labs, if you're a strategic genius? Or incredibly skilled, witty rhetorician? Isn't it more likely you'd be required to complete basic training to stay healthy and prevent accidentally endangering others, while being assigned to whatever you're most useful at?

And what about those weak or less intelligent ones? Are they bringing coffee and arranging entertainment?!

It also fits this fan interpretation, that Materialki are often neuro-divegent, so they are tend to be kept away from battle for their own sake.

Alina wasn't involved in practical running of Second Army before. Just because she doesn't know about something, it's not a totally fresh idea.

I'd be afraid of a girl, who almost murdered a bunch of people for asking questions, too.

At this point, I'm gonna run with the idea that all the older Grisha are torn between face-palming and silently laughing their assess off (so Alina doesn't overhear and her clique doesn't resort to violence).

“But what do they do in there?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to hear the answer. “Only the Corporalki know. But there are rumors that they’ve been working with the Fabrikators on new … experiments.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 8

... and that says nothing about the field, or the little groups in noble houses. People tend to stick together with their own, when in strange enviroment. I'm sure such bonds dissolve immediately after their return "home".

I've also delved a little into the sitting order here.

A few lines earlier, Alina noted Materialki didn't show up to complain. Who is so horrified then?! Not them, for sure.

Ironically, this fits into Fabricator-brain theory linked above AND the most logical explanation- Materialki have basic self-defense training, but only those, who are able to, continue. Alina isn't particularly friendly with any of them, so how would she know no one had EVER bothered to teach them? Alright, there are none in her class, but as far as we know, it consists of a Squaller, an Inferni and a Heartrender. Not the most saying sample.

Having a third of all Grisha helpless doesn't fit into the picture of Aleksander's leadership:

“That’s what Botkin always says. ‘Not showy, just to make pain,’” I said, imitating the mercenary’s heavy accent. “Smart guy.” “The Darkling doesn’t think Grisha should rely on their powers for defense.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 17

You don't have to become another Bruce Lee, you only need a chance, when they drag you out of bed in the middle of the night.

What tradition?

This is rather well-written group of angry, disorganized people. It might start with a reasonable goal, but soon everyone talks about something else than others, and the message gets lost in the noise.

Tradition doesn't equal "the way things are done". Neither of them is the same as "the need for structure and people knowing their places". The third one is a legitimate concern, although one could argue it's exactly what Alina's attempting.

This whole scene very much reads like:

The author is desperate to prove the Heroine isn't quite useless- she has good ideas! Look! *whacks a hundreds of years old stategist and survivor par excellence with stupid stick*

[majesty-madness]

A Past Encounter - Bucky Barnes x reader (nsfw) Sneak Peak

Summary: Being in a relationship with Bucky, Y/N prided herself on knowing him quite well but when she’s accidentally teleported back to 1940, Y/N discovers that there is a whole other Bucky that she has yet to meet. The sweet flirt that had everything going for him before his unfortunate capture by HYDRA.

Tagged - @honeyrydernot @spn-obession @tinyminxie @fluffybunnyu @saintmagx @hopelessromantic423 @marygoddessofmischief @theeleggymeggy @lethallyprotected

Commissions are available so don't forget to check that out!

Series Masterlist

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Chapter 14 Preview

September 20, 1941.

Y/N could scarcely believe that two months had already passed since she first arrived. In all honesty, it felt so much longer given all that she’s had to adjust to including her new job as an assistant to that lovely old woman, Irene, who’d provided her with brand new clothes when they’d met back in June. 

Never in her life had she ever been an assistant to a seamstress, but it had been a surprisingly fun experience. And it was also thanks to Bucky, once again, that she was able to work now seeing as he had convinced Irene to hire her. Though that didn’t take too much effort, the older woman stated she’d be grateful for the extra pair of hands. 

Speaking of Bucky, there had been an incredibly thick tension growing between them ever since they danced together. 

There was already something going on between them but when Bucky had basically asked Y/N to stay with him, the signs were painfully obvious. 

Every morning, Y/N reminded herself of the sickly sweet lyrics that played as they held each other.

It’s love, this time it’s love

My foolish heart…

Foolish indeed and she knew it, more than anything.

She was torn in two, desperately yearning to reach out and touch him, hold him close as if he were her’s to hold, and at the same time, held back by the years of intimacy with the Bucky she knew from her own time. 

Was it wrong to want Bucky from a time way beyond the moment they’d met? Was it wrong to love the parts of him she never knew? Was it wrong to have the slightest desire to stay?

Y/N shook her head, Stop it!

This was a common occurrence by now, Y/N falling into deep thought while involved in another task at hand, and right now Steve was showing her how to draw. 

“Do you need help with this part, Y/N?” Steve asked, kindly, the hand housing a pencil stopping in mid stroke on the paper. 

She stuttered out a forced laugh, while shaking her head again. “No, no I’m fine, just got lost in thought. Please continue.”

Steve apprehensively nodded though proceeded explaining his sketching technique.

Bucky, sitting at the dinner table watched the pair carefully, the newspaper in his hands stuck on the same page for the last twenty five minutes as he too become lost in thought; a pretty little thought by the name of -

A loud ringing made the trio jump, heads snapping over to look in the direction of the telephone that sat next to the radio. 

“I got it.” Bucky said, already standing up from his chair and walking over to the phone. Without missing a beat, he picked it up and answered with a polite, “Hello?”

After a couple of seconds, Bucky grinned. “Hey, Ma, how are you and Rebecca doing?”

Y/N glanced up at the mention of the name; Rebecca, his sister.

________

a/n: If you've made it down here, then you read the preview so first off; thank you! And second, I need to deeply apologize to those of you who were waiting for this chapter. I know I said that it would be released the 29th and I truly had intended to post it then but as luck would have it, my mental health took a freaking swan dive off a cliff and I found myself struggling just to write this (I'm okay, I promise). My track record with posting on a consistent schedule has always been iffy, and every single time I make a simple goal of what to post and when, something comes along and completely clotheslines me. I'm trying to get better about that, and I've taken steps to reevaluate my goals, and to look into better ways to set a schedule I can stick to. So again, thank you for reading and I'm sorry for the delay. Wishing you a good day!

[lilacprincess7]

"I will be your brother, and I'll hold your hand"

summary: in which Hector tears his acl during the first el clasico of the 2026 season and Gavi does everything in his ability to help his 'little brother' cope.

a/n: idk why I like hurting myself with my own fics, I like angst/fluff with a happy ending more than fluff, what's wrong with meee 😭😭 also felt like I needed to write something for these two especially after the celebrations in Friday

warnings: hospitals, ooc Vinicius cause I don't like him, crying, idk what else

Everything happened so fast. Hector was on the starting XI for the match after beginning this season being better than ever. However, someone was still angry about Hector's behaviour the year prior in the last El Clasico.

Barca was up 3-0, Hector had assisted Lamine who scored an ingredible goal and then scored one of his own after dribbling past Ascencio. Pedri scored a goal from just outside of the Madritistas penalty area to seal the deal for the first half.

After returning on the field for the second half, Vini Jr was pissed. 'That Fort kid needs to get the hell out of here. He's ruining my game', Vinicius thought to himself. Little did he know that what he was about to do would get him banned from football for two years.

After Pedri passed the ball to Hector, Vinicius made his move. He faked going for the ball with a tackling but caught Hector's right leg between his own and trapped it.

A shout was heard. Hector was on the ground, hands around his knee. His leg had gone the opposite direction from the rest of his body and took severe damage because of the unnatural move.

Everyone was stunned. Cubarsi was the first to approach him calling the medical team over. Pedri jogged over too, along with Lamine and Frenkie, all of them concerned for their teammate and friend.

Gavi realized what had happened before anyone else. He had seen this before. This kind of foul only led to knee problems. He had seen Pickford do the same thing to Van Dijk during a match and it had a torn ACL as outcome. Gavi was worried for his little brother (figure).

The medical team motioned for Flick to sub Hector off. They explained to him quietly what they thought it was and he was pissed. He was sure it was deliberate, that the Madritista's only purpose was to hurt his player and he was right.

Hector was taken of the field still clutching onto his knee, trying to calm down, the pain was too much. His knee felt like it was on fire. It hurt so bad. Pau patted him on the hair and gave him a kiss on the forehead before returning on the pitch. Determined to not let that asshole who hurt his best friend anywhere near close the goalpost.

The doctors thought that the best course of action was to take him to the hospital and the coach agreed. Gavi had heard the conversation, so upon the coach's return he turned to talk to him.

"Coach, can I go with him? I don't think he should be just with the doctors right now."

"You might be needed though kid." Flick told him.

"Coach, respectfully, even if you sub me on at some point, my mind will be on Hector. Or if that bastard doesn't get a red card I will end up with one. Please coach. I can't let him experience this the way I did. With nobody other than the doctors by his side."

"You know what? I agree, go kid, be with him. I think he will need you by his side."

"Thank you coach!" Gavi exclamed and left the bench. He headed to the looker room and fetched Hector's phone and his own before sprinting towards the infirmary, knowing that the medical team would bandage the younger's knee to avoid further injury.

Upon entering the room, the first thing that he noticed was the stillness of his little brother. After all the pain shown on his face earlier he thought the worse. Now he was hopefull.

He shouldn't have been. He realized that the younger was drugged. He was asleep that was why he was this still. The doctors questioned his arrival, asked him why he was there. He responded easily:

"I'm not about to leave him feel the way I felt through all this. I'll be there for him. I already have permission from the coach so I can come with you to the hospital."

The doctors understood what Pablo was saying and they agreed that the kid shouldn't be alone. They had an ambulance waiting outside. Pablo went with Hector. He held his hand during the ride to the General Hospital of Catalonia.

Meanwhile, in the stadium, the Barca fans were enraged. Quickly making a chant for what an asshole Vinicius was. The players were in a similar state. The referee after seing the incident gave the Madrid player a red card and told him it will be further reviewed. What he meant by that, nobody knew.

The referee managed to calm everyone down and the game resumed. Fortunately there weren't many minutes left for the match to come to an end. And that was fortunate for the Madritistas, for even Pau and Pedri the typically coldblooded ones were throwing curses at them.

The Barca players asked to not participate to the post-game interviews. All of their minds elsewhere. The coach agreed, saying that it would be nearly impossible to not have them screaming if someone brought up what happened. The Catalan club didn't want bad pr.

Hansi was the only one to attend. Not like he managed his rage any better really. He said thank you to the referee for handling the situation so professionally but that was were the kindness of the German ended.

Xabi Alonso, Real's coach, was pissed of at his own player. He said that there was never such an advice and whichever punishment for the player decided by FIFA would be suitable.

During the ride, Gavi felt Hector's grip on his hand tighten. The younger woke up quite disoriented. Fortunately, Pablo was there to help.

"Don't move hermanito!"

"Why? What's going on? Where are we?"

"We are taking you to the hospital.. that asshole fouled you pretty bad. I'm going to kill him next time I see him I swear."

"Oh.. Ahhhh-hmm it hurts..."

The calm that surrounded Hector for that little time was gone. His knee was back to feeling like it was being burnt. The doctors ended not giving him any more sedatives. It could lead to many other problems, especially with how strong the medication they already gave him was.

That was another reason why Gavi was restless. Growing up, he always remembered how Hector had an extreme pain tolerence. He once fell down the stairs and hit his hand trying to stop his fall and ended up breaking it in two different places. And yet he didn't even flinch. He turned towards Gavi, who had seen the whole thing and told him to help him get up. Like it was nothing. Gavi didn't want to risk it so they went to the infirmary.

"You want to tell me that your hand doesn't hurt? Kid, if you were normal you would have passed out from the pain!"

"Ehh I didn't, anyway, what are we doing about it?"

"It's broken, so.."

"Ohh okay.." Hector said.

"Are you sure you don't want medication for the pain?"

"Nope, it's fine, I don't feel anything."

It was found out at a later date that Hector's pain tolerence was above average, nobody could explain it. So, imagine, if Hector screamed like that, what an average person, who feels pain normaly would have felt.

That was what had Gavi so worried. He had never heard the younger shout like that. Not even when he was angry and enraged. That scream was pure pain and Pablo was sure it would stay engraved in his brain.

Back at the present, the doctors were going to take Hector for an MRI. Gavi squised the younger's hand and gave him a kiss on the forehead. The younger seemed to relax a bit under the touch of his older brother.

Gavi sat alone at the hospital corridor while he waited for Hector to be brought back at the room he was assigned. Due to the pain he had felt, the doctors thought it was better to have him stay a night.

Pablo decided it was a good time to call Hector's mum. He knew the younger's password so it was an easy task.

"Hey dear. How are you doing? What did the doctors say?" Christina, Hector's mum asked worried.

"Hey Mrs. Garcia. I'm Gavi. We are at the hospital, Hector was taken a couple minutes ago for some tests." Pablo replied as calmly as possible.

"Oh, thank you for calling me. Which hospital are you at?"

"The General Mrs. Garcia."

"I'll be there in a bit, see you."

"Bye" Gavi replied, ending the call.

He wanted to be sure that Hector's parents would be here. When he was the one injured, nobody had thought to call his parents so they could be in the hospital with him. He wouldn't let the kid feel the same.

Indeed, Hector's parents didn't take long to show up. He didn't want to be the one updating them but he was the only suitable one at the time.

"Hey.."

"Hey kid, where is he?" said Christina while hugging him.

"He is still doing exams, they told me he would be back in a bit. They assigned a private room for the night. The doctors want to keep him in for the night to monitor his pain."

"How was he? Do you think it's serious Pablo?" asked Hector's dad

"Look, I'm no expert. What had me concerned was the fact that he screamed after it happened. And we all now what his pain tolerence is like. That's why I came with.." Gavi admitted.

"Thank you for being there for him."

"Christina, his like my little brother. I couldn't leave his side in such a difficult situation, especially since I know how that feels."

The doctors brought Hector back after some time. Their faces were greem and a bit pale. They admitted that their main thought was the ACL being torn and explained that the give the younger pain relievers. He was likely to sleep throught the night.

It was confirmed from the MRI that it was a nasty ACL tear. The doctors said they would wait for the inflamation to calm down to operate. They insisted to keep Hector in the hospital until then. They thought it best for him.

The days passed quickly. Hector's parents would visit him in the morning and Pablo would come by at some point near the afternoon and sleep at the hospital. The rest of the team wanted to come by aswell but Hector wanted Gavi to pass the message that he didn't want more visitors. He wanted them to focus on the game and avoid them seeing him like this, like a mess.

The night before the surgery, Hector couldn't sleep. He was so anxious. He didn't know if everything would be alright and he needed reassurance. Fortunately for him, he had Pablo by his side. The older, upon realizing the younger couldn't sleep hopped on the bed -which was quite big for a hospital bed- and cuddled with Hector.

The surgery went well. Extremely well. The doctors thought that he would be able to reach his previous level in football, even though they hopped he would surpass it.

Post-surgery, Hector agreeded to see the rest of the team. They had been worried about him so much and at first he didn't want to see them. After Gavi talked to him, he understood that being surrounded by the rest would make him feel better, less lonely.

Pau had the most adorable reaction to seeing his closest friend. He hugged him so tight Hector felt like he couldn't breathe properly. Lamine was much the same. The older ones, like Inigo and Lewa patted him on the hair, his back, his shoulders. They were really careful and handled him with love. So much love he felt like he would combust.

The team to take over Hector's physiotherapy was the one that took care of Gavi aswell. He felt a bit calmer with those news, having seen the outcome for the older.

At some point, Flick asked him to talk. He knew what it was about. 2026 was the year his contract ended and he didn't want to think he could be possibly left without a team at the end of the season.

Hansi calmed him down. He explained that the only reason they hadn't resigned him last year was because they didn't want him to feel trapped. The team felt that there was a need for the young players to not be trapped in a contract that would last so many years. They were wrong in that regard since most of the young players wanted to finish their carrer with Barca aswell. They hardly cared about the money.

Flick made it clear that the team wanted to keep him and explained that the only reason they had signed another fullback was to teach him. Sergi Roberto was that fullback. Knowing it was a Barca legend that would be teaching him, Hector felt more at ease.

Contract negotiatons were soon over and done with since Hector was a bit ignorant about the terms. He just wanted to stay at Barca, the rest were clauses he didn't care about.

The days passed relatively quick. There were days he felt like he would never get back to football and days he felt like he was on top of the world. Gavi was there through it all. During the bad days, they would watch movies and play FIFA, or even sit by the sea. On better days, they would hang around with the team, gossiping and joking.

The milestones kept him on track. The first walk without crunches, the first time to drive post-surgery , the first time to run. Everything was going nicely. He was healing, step by step he was getting better.

The team was always there for him. He attended all the home games and sometimes the away ones aswell, especially if it was UCL matches. He was gratefull for Gavi. The elder was constantly by his side. Oftentimes he would even join him for physio sessions. Mostly for the ones in the pool.

When it was time to get back on the grass he was scared out off his mind. What if he got out there and it didn't feel the same? What would happen if all the hard work he put in during his years at La Masia vanished? Pablo didn't let him spiral more.

Gavi usually made time on his schedule to be with the younger. Whether it was light training and he was just keeping him company or they were actively doing something he was there without being asked. It was like, in a twisted way, this was healing Gavi too.

They had arranged it so Pablo could join him for a run around the pitch. It was calm. Quiet. Just the two of them down by the pitch. Physios and doctors on the sideline, waiting to monitor the younger's progress so far. Unbeknowst to them all, most of the team along with Flick were watching fontly. They all knew just how close the duo standing on the pitch was, the relationship the two angry birds shared was so sibling coded.

"Were they always like this?" Flick asked generally.

"You mean this close coach?" Lamine questioned back.

"Yeah, it's just- they are so similar regarding some things, it's unnerving. Just like you two.." Hansi expressed, nodding towards Pedri and Pau.

"Even though they never played in the same team for La Masia they were quite close back then too. I remember a time when we were missing people for a final and they asked older players to participate. Remember Lamine?" Pau turned towards him.

"Yeah, these two came out of nowhere. They came and played with us, toyed with the rival team got a couple goals in for fun, fought some people. We didn't know them that well yet. They both had a reputation for being aggressive and doing everything for the badge. They had always had an 'army' if you get what I mean. The talismans of La Masia really."

"You forget to mention just how many years their shirts have been hanging by the entrance. Nobody will ever bleed as blaugrana as these two do." Pau concluded lightly.

When Hector returned to training with the team everyone was elevated. Pau was beyond happy that his best friend was back. Him and Hector remained close friends even though the older one had times were only Gavi could get through to him, Hector was always a bit stubborn.

Hector was returning. He was back on the squadlist. After almost a year he was back. Flick told him that he would most likely change Kounde at the 80th minute and Hector was happy with the desicion. He knew it would take time to reestablish himself but the coach had been attentive to him.

"Coach, can we talk for a second?" Pablo asked

"Yeah kid what's up?" Hansi questioned

"I wanna be subbed on at the same time as Hector. I know you benched me for the match so I could rest and I agreed but I want to be there for him."

"I was already thinking about it and it's fine by me. If everything goes acording to plan I will sub the two of you close to the end of the match."

And that's exactly what happened. The rest of the team managed to secure a goal margin of 4-0 against Espanyol. The moment Hector stood up to go warm up the whole stadium started chanting his name. He felt at peace. He felt at home. He felt whole again.

a/n: thoughts?

[thatscarletflycatcher]

Tumblr isn't letting me find again @fictionadventurer's and my own posts on epistolary novels, but I have been thinking about it again, because I fell down a Goodreads review rabbit hall and I have thoughts again.

So many people dislike the style, and honestly, I don't blame them, because it's so often done... not well. It is in some aspects, a deceptively easy one, and in others, deceptively hard. And because I'm trying to write a novel with this format myself, I have been thinking about what makes or breaks an epistolary novel.

I talked yesterday about TGLPPS, because it is an interesting case to analyze. I have thought many times about it, and cannot think of a single non-merely-aesthetic reason for it to be told in an epistolary style. A lot of it depends on -British- people who have survived some terrible war conditions willingly opening up to a stranger about their experiences, and that's made... even more difficult if the medium is letters? typically writers will appeal to tropes like making the reserved character drunk, or have them share an extreme experience in isolation with the stranger to create sudden intimacy. None of this is possible in writing; if anything, one is much more self-conscious about the things one writes than the things one says; verba volant, scripta manent.

It seems to me the story would have flowed much more naturally if Juliet had been stranded on Guernsey for some reason -like the first author herself!- suddenly Dawsey commenting that he got a book from her library makes so much more sense! Yes, certainly, if you met a stranger out there, and they introduce themselves and you realize you have a book that once belonged to them, you would tell them so! And it is in this way that the epistolary format does violence to a story that would otherwise sound much less contrived.

Another problem is the large cast of characters and multiple settings. For all I complain about Dracula, Stoker manages this pretty well (of course he has the model of The Woman in White, but TWiW has fewer povs), at least on the first half, because structurally the storylines of the characters are converging, and that does a lot to guide the reader in the understanding of the character's relationships. TGLPPS's relationship structure is more of a multidirectional flow chart, and that becomes confusing really fast.

Another novel I read reviews for recently is one set in WWI, composed of back and forth letters between two lovers torn apart by war, and one common complaint was... that the climactic scenes, the times they meet, etc all happen... off-camera. It is a fair complaint, but also one I cannot really blame the author for, because that's what usually happens with real life compilations of letters of that kind. Sure, usually the editor/compiler will fill in the blanks sometimes and add an epilogue of sorts explaining what happened afterwards, and that is possible if you are writing it fictionally too, but some may think it spoils the effect of immediacy and whatnot, which, fair too.

But it makes me think of how aware Jean Webster was of these difficulties, and how deftly she managed them in both Daddy Long-Legs and Dear Enemy. Both novels have aged badly in terms of content and message, but they are very interesting stylistically.

DLL is a bildungsroman with a dash of romance; through Judy's letters to daddy long-legs we can see how she grows as a person, gaining independence intellectually and economically, and as a writer, as her grammar and vocabulary change and grow. Between making Judy an orphan who hates the orphanage where she has lived her whole life, and one where she lived past the usual age of being thrown into the world, Webster does away with the need for letters between Judy and her friends and family: all her friends and family are her college roommates and her benefactor, who is the person she writes to. The benefactor scheme also makes it so that she doesn't have to write dll's replies, which in turns makes it much more natural and acceptable for the reader when Judy writes him the ending's love letter describing the feelings and impressions of their finally meeting in person and in truth; Judy has become a writer, and she is so used to write to him as another person all the time, that it just makes sense for her to write to him one more letter at the point where her benefactor and her lover become one and the same person. She has written a novel where the core is the correspondence between lovers AND managed to include as well all the moments of their meetings that we would otherwise miss.

Dear Enemy is a similar, but longer and more ambitious story. Instead of one relationship-connection (Judy and Daddy's), we have Sallie as a nod of connections: she's Judy's friend, Jarvis' "employee", the boss of several characters, has a tense colleague-boss relationship with the visiting doctor, a boyfriend of sorts in Washington, and a family we have met before. It is, in that way, a similar setup to TGLPPS: a urban girl of means becomes a fish out of water in a different setting till she ends up assimilating to it, and settling definitely through marriage. But Webster does a few things differently to make it click.

For starters, it is clear to her that this is the story of Sallie's maturation -I have sometimes talked of Dear Enemy as a novel where a Mary Crawford-like character undergoes a transformation arc. The happenings and stories she meets and tells Judy about along the way serve this arc, besides standing on their own as case studies to illustrate the problems, ideology and solutions proposed to the secondary themes of the story (education and social reform). I feel like TGLPPS is much more interested in Guernsey's survival through the war, in which case Juliet's story is already a frame, which, again, makes the epistolary format cumbersome rather than complementary.

Dear Enemy adds more correspondents, but it is very austere/economical with them, and narrows the letters we see to only those Sallie sends. YMMV regarding if it was too much cutting or not, but the undeniable effect is structural soundness; you are never confused by what is happening or who is writing to whom. We can guess the Honorable Cyrus Wykoff probably wrote some indignant letters to Jervis, and those would be funny to read, but... would they be worth the break in the flow of the narrative? I don't think so. To this effect, just having Sallie write a line to the effect of "I expect at this point you have at hand an irate letter from the Hon. Cyrus" is enough to paint a picture for the reader. Perhaps a letter or two from Dr. MacRae would have helped develop his character more -definitely a first read of the story obscures how much misdirection there is in Sallie's narration to Judy, which in turns tends to create an impression of suddenness to the closing letter that doesn't come across well to the reader.

The choice of Sallie mainly writing to Judy is, IMO, a really good one too. It not only establishes a connection with DLL, but it also allows for the intimacy that makes disclosure believable (something TGLPPS struggles with, as I mentioned above). When you add a few letters to the doctor and Gordon and Jervis, you also get a better perspective of Sallie's personality, how she deals not only with a friend, but with acquaintances, romantic partners and coworkers.

From all this it is pretty evident that for Webster the main function of epistolarity as format is aiding in showing psychological and moral development. But that's not the only thing the format can be really good for: perspective is another, and Austen uses it to great effect in both Lady Susan and Lesley Castle.

Both stories deal with mainly static characters, but who have very strong perspectives of the same situation, and it is this singularity of setting and story that anchors the narrative to avoid confusion, while the variety of perspective brings interest. In Lady Susan, we are dealing mainly with the marrying off of Frederica and seduction of Mrs. Vernon's brother, Reginald. There where Lady Susan paints Frederica as an undisciplined, irrational and ungrateful daughter, her sister in law, Mrs. Vernon, paints her as a sweet girl and a victim of her mother's ruthlessness and lack of love. Both agree that Reginald is being seduced, but, of course, with opposite goals: Lady Susan wants him to succumb, Mrs. Vernon, to escape, and this is a delicious struggle for the reader to follow!*

Lesley Castle being an earlier effort, and unfinished, does show some of the defects I have mentioned before (mainly, the relative confusion of having several correspondents in separate storylines), but illustrates well this same perspective effect: Margaret writes to Charlotte about the new Lady Lesley, and the new Lady Lesley writes to Charlotte about about Margaret and her sister... and in these contrasts lies the main interest of the narrative.

Some conclusions to these musings, then:

Not every story is suited to the epistolary format.

The epistolary format seems to work the best when it is used for either A) showcase psychological and moral development B) to play with perspective on people and/or events.

One of the main difficulties of the format is finding a narrative element to anchor and structure the letters around.

It must have a core couple of correspondents, or at most, two. More than that will make it confusing (unless, perhaps, the story is very short and about a single event or two).

A delicate balance must be found so that the secondary correspondence doesn't cut the flow of the main one, and if possible it must feed into it.

*It is interesting how Love and Friendship, being such a delightful -and I sustain one of the best ever- Austen adaptation, is by force of the perspective switch towards a more impersonal third person, more about a love story between Frederica and Reginald than a struggle between Lady Susan and Mrs. Vernon. Which isn't dissimilar to how adaptations of DLL end up being more about the romance between the leads than Judy's coming of age in college; tropes aside, I feel like if the epistolary format is well embedded in the story, it's going to be nearly impossible to reproduce the effect in adaptation.

[michanvalentine]

Okay, lately I’ve been a bit absent when it comes to writing. I put everything on pause because I was in the final stretch of preparing for a show (as a reminder, I’m part of a theatre company), not to mention my responsibilities as a mom! Let’s just say the one who ended up getting the short end of the stick—and all the stress too—was my husband, lol. Thank you for existing and sorry, love, I adore you. 💕

So, back to my fanfictions: now that things have calmed down and I don’t have rehearsal after rehearsal after rehearsal, I can finally get back to writing chapters. I’m doing one general update post for both the Baldur’s Gate 3 and Final Fantasy VII fandoms to keep you all in the loop.

I’ll definitely be posting the final chapter of Pain Red soon—it just needs to be translated, so it shouldn’t take too much time. Hopefully I’ll manage to get it done by the end of the week.

Chapter four of Beneath the Skin, on the other hand, will require a bit more effort, since it tackles delicate themes that need proper attention and care, and the chapters are also quite long. I don’t want to rush it and risk misrepresenting things or underdeveloping the characters. Then I’d like to expand the narrative a bit to include the context and the post-apocalyptic life of Cid and Yuffie, just to make everything more concrete and enjoyable. I’m currently thinking and planning how to weave these worldbuilding details smoothly into the most important events. Let’s also give poor Cid a little breathing room—he’s already struggling enough, torn between hormones and reason. xD Plus, it’s the last fic I updated, so it has to wait its turn!

As for Baldur’s Gate 3, well, that’s a trickier topic. While I feel more confident with FFVII (probably because I’ve written more often about Vincent), with Astarion and company I still feel awkward and insecure. I’m slow... veeeeeery slow.

Also, as I mentioned in a previous post, I had another idea pop into my head that I really wanted to get rid of… but of course, I couldn’t. So I made a pact with myself.

First of all, I need to write the second chapter of The Day Astarion Found Himself Saddled with Parenthood. After all, it’s been a while since I last tormented him with his parental duties! xD And Astarion is so excited, absolutely thrilled, to put into practice all his extensive knowledge of gentle parenting and Montessori education, of which he is a proud, distinguished advocate. With Karlach helping him, I just can’t see how things could possibly go wrong, right, Halsin? Let’s just hope that by the end of the fanfiction, the poor druid hasn’t gone completely gray from the stress! xD

But aside from that, I also want to keep fantasizing about my little horror idea, with the paranormal investigators Gale Dekarios and Astarion Ancunin—respectively a professor and expert in the occult and demonology at the university, and a poor unfortunate soul as well as a powerful psychic who also has to deal with his own tormentor, who exploits him for his own purposes. I’m sorry, Astarion—even in modern AUs you end up in unpleasant situations, but staying somewhat in line with canon, that’s just how things go. ^^'

In this case, the narrative tone would be entirely different from The Day Astarion Found Himself Saddled with Parenthood—much more serious and dark, for obvious reasons. I’ve always been fascinated by the paranormal, which is why I love horror movies and series, but I’ve never actually tried writing one myself. I’d love to give it a shot.

Experimenting, changing things up, seeing where a new path takes me, and discovering what it stirs inside me is something I truly enjoy. Likewise, even though I’m not a huge Bloodweave fan (though I still appreciate it), I’d like to explore this pairing, to personally delve into its potential and see what happens.

I feel both excited and terrified because it seems like a rather ambitious project, considering my abilities; and, as if that weren't enough, I'm always afraid I won't be able to finish the projects I start—something that often discourages me from even starting them in the first place. But at the same time, I find it incredibly intriguing. Especially since the plot would play a fundamental role, as would the psychological development of the characters and their deep, believable characterization.

After all, in a horror story, it’s all about the characters, the atmosphere, and the emotions—mostly sinister and unsettling ones, right? A pretty massive challenge from my perspective!

Wish me luck!

[seospicybin]

i am not one to cry in fics because i tend to lean on the T side of the personality test. last day when i was reading evermore, tears were unconditionally flowing for some reason. as i read rhe fic, i got a glimpse of my own share of sweet and bitter relations. like there was a guy who ,even though was extremely bad for me, but i couldn’t let go of him. or there was a guy who was the sweetest but i couldn’t project his same feelings at a similar wavelength. or there was a guy who i could never attain even if i had shot my shot. crying throughout it was therapeutic. now that i look back, i feel like it somehow worked as a tool to be the last stage in my healing process and just move on. i have already let go of the characters in my life but reading this, i think it has helped to move on in a better and positive manner. this determines my opinion on you. that you’re a great writer who knows how to convey feelings in the right manner. i admire you, i applaud you. i appreciate you. but this begs the question from me, how do you write this in such comprehensive details? do you inject your own experience in this or is it solely your personal imagination and creativity that carries the flow of the fic?

In contrary to your T, I am an F so that explains it ig. 😂

And to answer your question, uhm... I think, firstly, there's no hopelessly romantic Hyunjin or rocker Chris in my life. I also didn't have experiences in being torn between past and new love but I do know that sometimes it's hard to choose something you're not familiar with or out of your comfort zone or something entirely new that you don't even sure you know how to wrap your hands around it. I think a few of us have gone through similar things but I want this fic to be a reminder that just because it’s safe or comfortable doesn't mean that it's good for you.

As for the details idk how to fathom it into words but it's just how I do it. I pour myself in it, what I felt when I created that part of story in my head and oftentimes, I found myself got emotional too as I write bcs of how involved I am in the story.

In all honesty, I'm just here trying my best. If you get the emotions that I tried to convey through my writings, then that's good and if not, that's alright too, sometimes, it's just about how you let yourself get carried by the story and I thank you for letting my fic carry you places (emotionally 🥲) and also for the kind and lovely words, I appreciate it so much. Thank you, hope life is treating you well 🥰💕

[pomodoro-words]

Magic

March 17. Today I'm cleaning at Claire's house, one of those arrangements that is transactional and intimate.

I like her.

I think we'd be friends if she wasn't paying me. Maybe one day, I'll stop cleaning and we can actually try. Does it work like that? Lucia Berlin wrote a short story, probably based on experience (she was dismissive of enquiries about the 'truth' in her writing) called "A manual for cleaning women". It's funny and true.

(Cleaning women: As a rule, never work for friends. Sooner or later they resent you because you know so much about them. Or else you’ll no longer like them, because you do.)

"I've got to go out. Sorry about that. I'll put the radio on for you," Claire says.

We often chat when I'm between rooms and she's working in her dining room. It's a pleasant combination of mutual industry with intermittent giddy exchange, quickly extinguished for propriety.

"Magic ok?" she asks a bit nervously. We know each other well in some domains, but not all.

"That's fine," I say, "I can do Magic". It wouldn't be my first choice but I can't imagine what would. I haven't listened to a radio station in years.

She leaves, family tasks to attend to. Her absence is successfully obscured by chirpy male and female DJs, doing a sort of teasing couple bit.

A prerecorded voice announces "hits from the 80s till now," which strikes me as an absurdly elastic category, spanning nearly half a century, as if it were a unified cultural moment. The voice brags about not repeating songs for "the whole workday".

What unsettles me in the continuing broadcast is the realisation that I know every song. I've been there for every song. I'm someone in every song.

The Backstreet Boys emerge from the speaker - their harmonies engineered for maximum teenage yearning -and I'm thinking of Jalin, a fighter I knew who used them for his walkout song, which paired with his professional brutality - earned him the adoration of the crowd. I realise I have been gone from that life for over three years. Do I still have claim to those people, and that version of me? I leave him a voice message, compelled to find out.

Natalie Imbruglia sings "Torn," and I remember the video, her iconic, baggy, low slung combat pants. That cool side fringe. She must still eat out on this song. There is probably someone listening to it every minute of every day, somewhere.

Savage Garden follows - they were never good.

Wham's "Freedom" plays, thin, tinny in a way I've never noticed before. I'm transported to an optimistic, wide eyed pre-teen, fantasising about having a boyfriend, and whether George Michael would really fall in love with me should we be thrown together in unusual circumstances (turns out probably not). I can't help but smile, and I feel an urge to whirl around a bit with my cleaning rags.

I don't listen to music anymore. This is something I don't tell people because they look at me as if I might be unwell, or unclean. Music makes me uncomfortable in a way that's difficult to articulate. I'm unwilling to revisit songs from my past, as if there is no value there. None of the new songs impact me, as if I lack the ability to be moved by music.

Yet here, trapped in the commercial cathedral of Magic FM, I'm experiencing something like involuntary integration. With each familiar chorus, fragments of my history collide. Puzzle pieces that don't quite fit but suggest a larger picture. The pre-teen finding their own music, the teenager so excited about going out, the first broken heart, the second... the breaker of hearts.

Is this why people subject themselves to the randomness of radio? Is this the function of music itself - to bring our scattered pieces together? The thought occurs to me while spraying glass cleaner on Claire's bathroom mirror, watching myself disappear behind circular motions of the microfibre cloth.

[confessiionario]

"as the image of myself becomes sharper in my mind, the less afraid i am that someone will erase me by denying me love."

this sentence has stuck with me ever since i heard it on one of my favourite podcasts ever, "wild geese" with anna corinne. i keep on listening to her episodes on a loop, to wake up and start the day, to drift away into sleep (she has an amazing voice for that), to keep me company while i work, etc... always there, and i've actually been able to share a word directly with anna herself, and i can say for sure that she is one of the most interesting human beings i came accros in the latest years. it's really difficult to find people that i deeply, truly identify myself with—but this one was a match made in heaven. she is organising my mind, like a second brain, and giving names to ideas and thoughts i've been having lately. i've thanked her personally, which is an honour, and i'm basically recommending it to everyone, so here's another strong recommendation to hit pause on whatever you're listening to and just allow yourself to experience a deep dive on a super intricate and complex mind. it's so good to finally feel like i'm finding the true meaning of self-love, self-confidence, self-acceptance. i'm filling in the inner needs i was denying, the need to create, the need to express myself, the need to speak and write, the need to show up, the need to talk about my life, the need to share my daily thoughts, the need to engage with the community, to stay in touch with friends and family, to be active online and connect with the world again, being courageous enough to share my creations, my words, my art, my work, the way i see the world. i'm torn between feeling like i'm so many things and nothing at once, i'm constantly floating from feeling to feeling, constantly living on the edge of existence, on the edge of life. but i'm finally appreciating the run, the fact that i'm alive, my voice and my means and resources. i can only be who i am, i can only do what i'm capable of, i can dream with no limits and i have the duty, the compromise to myself, to make my dreams and ambitions come true. i'm not looking for big things, for fame, for recognition... i'm only looking to exist, my way, to validate my place in the world, and to finally share who i am and everything i've been keeping private. (and i will still keep a lot of things private, as everyone should. it's goo to evaluate and balance, always good...) anyway, i'm rambling at this point, i think you get the idea—already from the very beginning, because the quote is very self-explanatory... but i wanted to give my take and share my point of view and personal situation. i don't feel seen here, which can be good in a way, but what really matters is that this capsule of information exists somewhere, for someone, even if only me. it's always good to have reminders here and there, although life and the universe are veeery good at giving you all the hints you need and driving your way. just take your time, make your own melody, your own rhythm, dance through life, and more than anything learn to accept yourself (as you are and as you change). knowing what your essence is is the first step to acceptance, and knowing what your energy is like and what it demands to stay healthy is crucial to choose where you want to go. destiny plays a roll, of course—at least, i believe it in my heart and soul—but you also have to be able to see the chances and play with them, enjoy them, make the most of them. make the most of life and of being alive, that's the motto i guess. it's easy and difficult at the same time, i honestly think the trick is abstraction. i will say more on the 'abstraction' thing one of these days, it's a really interesting and complete concept, something i've been developing lately. i have a bunch of scattered notes that could all eventually turn into one of there blog posts... hope all of them will see the light of day (or of the moon... i normally write in the night/dawn) eventually.

thank you for listening, thank you for seeing me, whoever you are—hello, dear me. dear life. dear world. "ooh baby baby, it's a wild world" oh yes it is ma'am -- Solarpunk Guidance 10 Mar, 2025 · 04:20H ahahahahah... blaze it

[majorpepperidge]

So I'm going anon for this because I do not know if my thoughts will get me crucified by Pen fans, so this is me being safe.

For starters, I wanna state, when I got my physical copy of Sandrock, I already knew what I was going into when it came to Pen (and in turn, Matilda, Yan, and Miguel). I already knew they were the big bads thanks spoilers I saw, but even then, I could probably see them as bad guys a mile away (Yan is a sleazy scam artist, Matilda oozes passive aggressive southern bitch, and I say that as a southern myself. And Miguel oozes snob, and while not a villainous trait, is mainly associated with villains). So, even before knowing Pen was a villain, he already gave me major Gaston vibes so I was already kind of sus of him.

It made me very wary and kind of squint at him, but even then I was curious about his character. This man comes off as very showboaty, there had to be more. Cue me seeing his romance stuff and going "Okay so he is like a massive dork! You know, that kind of makes sense, big and tough, comes off as an ass, actually is a dork. That's a neat-" //cue the Knives Out update (i think it was that update), Pen being revealed as a bad guy and his romance dialogue mentioning he had OTHER LOVERS AND THE PLAYER WAS JUST ANOTHER NOTCH IN HIS BELT

"Nevermind you are dead to me you son of a bitch"

And while I say that, I am still curious on Pen's character, but more so in the terms of I want to punch this man as well. Something about that line has always rubbed me the wrong way. Since it feels like Pen doesn't actually care about the player. Which makes it worse since his final quest before being shipped off to prison, his last letter to the player if romance just NAILS it in the coffin but his PLATONIC LETTER MAKES PEN COME OFF AS MORE GEUINE.

Pen's romance letter comes off as just...gross and manipulative. Saying he forgives you for literally doing the right thing and not standing back and letting him destroy Sandrock. While in his platonic letter, Pen seems to see the player as his equal, mentioning how he wishes the player picked up his space punch, but was still confident in the player.

Which leads me to this, yes it took awhile to get to this: I seriously feel like, canon Pen, should have STAYED a platonic option for players. Him as a romantic partner character for players just...dose not end well, nor settle right in my stomach, especially since when you look at his lovey dovey stuff and then how he is at the end of the game, it feels Pen is luring the player, placing the rose-tinted glasses on and capturing them in his clutches. I am probably SERIOUSLY looking to much into it, and it could be just Pathea sucking at writing, which you know, I can see that, even Portia had questionable writing at times.

Now that all said, I do propose a way to make Pen's romance more interesting and less very tittering on the edge of a horrid toxic relationship (maybe). And that answer is simple: BREAK PEN'S FUCKING FAKE ASS JOCK PERSONA. It's clear from what I can tell in game, and in his end game letter, Pen can be genuine. Sure in his own assholeish way sometimes, but Pen can be a genuine person. The problem comes in the fact, from what I can tell at least, Pathea never really gives him the chance to let that shine. It would be fun to see Pen actively struggle with his duties with Duvos and the player, maybe becoming torn between Sandrock or his own nation. Or hell, have scenes where the player catches Pen overhear people talking about the horrors Duvos causes and more, and Pen seemingly so out of characterly TIRED. The man knows his nation is fucked, he knows it is a horrid broken mess that is hellbent of destroying everyone in the search of what they want, but he knows he also can't stop it. Maybe because he has had first hand experience in seeing what they could do or more. Has this become a giant rewrite idea, yeah it had but I feel like I should add it here near the end since while I want to strangle the asshat Pen is like an interesting character still that got done dirty story wise.

OKAY RAMBLING OVER, I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WORD WALL? Uh feel free to like delete this or what, idk, I just had to get my thoughts out and you seem to be the only active Pen fan I could find who I think has proposed decent rewrites or talked about how Pen is written not great sometimes? So yeah, again sorry for the word wall and uh bye

-Writing Anon

Hey, these are good thoughts anon! And I agree! Pen's writing is all over the place and I'm sure some of that can be attributed to weird localization differences/choices alongside the general clunky ending to his story. His characterization can sometimes make it hard to tell when he's lying and when he's not.

Some more time showing the depths of his character, while still keeping his dorkiness (which i believe is genuine, fight me pathea, alongside him loving the Builder and the 'multiple lovers' line was just meant to get under their skin so it'd be easier for them to hate him), and showing that maybe he DID have some internal crisis abt his bond with the Builder, romantic or plantonic, and his loyalty to Duvos. It would've been SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING to have someone like him be more of an unwilling villain. I know for my Exile AU stuff he's not as posturing/boisterous because he's not having to act anymore(and keep a lower profile to keep Duvos from sniffing him and Ray out), but it's still THERE because it's still part of him. I want to keep him being a larger-than-life cocky dork while not ignoring the sins he committed as a Knight and how he's struggling to move past it (and feel like he's worth Ray's love and loyalty despite all he did to her and Sandrock itself)

[hedgionary]

So I had one person tell me to write it, even for my own enjoyment. Why not write it here? I took a dive into the Narnia hole, all while being unable to leave the hole known as Fullmetal Alchemist. My head decided to combine them creating an AU. Instead of in WW1 Germany, Edward and Hohenheim end up in pre-WW2 London. Lots happens, Ed ends up getting sent to the house of one professor Diggory Kirke, someone who'd previously talked to Hohenheim about the theories of parallel universes. Not two months go by, Diggory sits Edward down and tells him there's going to be a bunch of children living with them. Edward is Not Happy, but what can he do? He's now tasked with Making Friends and Being Nice. Apparently, Kirke doesn't realise how much of a difference the four years between Edward and Peter make, let alone the seven between Ed and Lucy. All of this not taking into account how Ed was shaped by his experiences.

Still, he can't help but find Lucy's story of the wardrobe endearing after she returns the first time. A bit sad, but adorable. When there was a storm one evening, he sat down with her and told her a story from his home. Susan rolled her eyes in the other bed, but to Lucy, the story of alchemists who could make thinsg seemingly out of nothing, spark flames and so much more! He didn't mention the darker side of alchemy. He was a telling a bedtime story, not discussing possibilities with proffessor Kirke. It was still raining the next morning, and Edward got roped into playing with the Pevensies. He's with them when they land in Narnia, yet he can't believe it. He's torn between the "Not again" energy and the "what if i'm somehow closer to home" energy.

People thinking Edward is a star, or at least the son of one, due to him not being referred to as a Son of Adam or even Daughter of Eve. He's the blood of Adam, but not his son. Edward rediscovering his alchemy after he is attacked by wolves and instinctively claps his hands.

He gets a dwarven equivalent of automail. The job was already halfway done, but the dwarves excell at working thier forge nonetheless.

Edward never returning to England with the Pevensies, not ageing, receding into legend and then resurfacing during the events of Prince Caspian. Same age as when the siblings first saw him. Just more… Tired. He just wants to talk to Aslan.

And talk he deos. What he hears does not, however, help him, for he learns that even through the Country of Aslan he will not go home. (There's no Gate through Aslan's land to Amestris)

(That's the part I feel like burning myself at stake for, because why shouldn't God be able to do something, catholic guilt am i right?)

Aslan tells Edward to live on. To find peace and a home in Narnia. Edward cannot. He has tried. He misses his family too much, Narnia is too similar yet too different from Amestris. It hurts even more than England did, somehow.

He receeds quietly to the court of King Caspian. When the young king decides to go searching for the barons aboard the Dwan Treader, Edward fights tooth and nail against coming along. But his knowledge on all things Narnian (and not only) proves too be too valuable.

One day, he finds his way home. Rumours circulate that he truly was a Star, or at least close enough for Ramandu to be able to help him home in a way known only to the Stars. Others say he found peace on one of the islands they passed. Yet others say he died. Only a select few know the truth, and those are the ones who promised Edward they wouldn't tell.

Edward is home. But to everyone else, he's a different person. For everyone else, it's been four years. For Edward? A thousand. And Edward has learned so much.

He's got Mustang's Edmund's cold calculations in politics, handling anything in a delicate, yet clear manner. He does not lie. He's as straightforward as he ever was, but he's able to dress it in pretty words now. He's got more of an edge to him.

He's learnt authority from Peter. He's dangerous when he has a sword, no longer relying only on a knife, a polearm or transmuted arm. His movements are clear, elegant even. Not brash and jagged like the Fullmetal Alchemist's had always been. Fullmetal used his weapons as weapons - brutal, yet effective. Edward has a captivating elegance to his movements, leading a spar like a dance.

He's learnt to use a bow of all things. His automail is unlike anything anyone had ever seen. Edward knows it's Dwarven work and wears it proudly. He even uses his charm sometimes, but he's not a fan of it. Susuan insisted he learn though, and who was he to disobey a High Queen? Yes, it's still the Fullmetal Alchemist. But it's not the one the people of Amestris know anymore. He does not tell them any of the tales of Cair Paravel, or the diplomatic diplomatic journeys to Calormen that later come in handy when they talk to the people of Xing. (He's also fairly proficient with the weapons of the country. And doesn't that raise a few eyebrows?) Even Lucy's kindness rubbed off on him. He treats everyone he meets as a person who deserves kindness until blatantly proven otherwise. The fact Dante was gone when he retuned helped.

The first time someone calls him a dwarf, he smiles as if that were a compliment. He does not look for fights, but that does not mean he won't finish them. That temper of his never quite left. When he finally sees Al again, he's struck by the age difference. But then he smiles and takes his brother as he is. It is, after all, not the first time he's ever encountered someone he knew for years returned to a younger age. This does not mean it's not hard for him; it's just a little easier than it would've been otherwise. He knows neither of them are going to leave now, they've got each other's backs forever. He grows barely a centimetre and is ecstatic. This means he's truly home, ageing alongside his friends again. He wants to see the ocean, to show Al the ocean. This bewilders everyone, because he'd never cared for it. He's taken to drawing (he'd had no artistic skills before). For a while, he's convinced the world is flat like a table.

[woodpengu]

Hustling to Nowhere

Hustle culture has ruined me...

My time is not my own. My value is not my own. My desire is not my own. What is mine is borrowed. Inspired. Pushed, pulled, drawn, rendered, judged, obliterated, reformatted, commissioned, traumatized, stigmatized.

Traumatized and Stigmatized. Never enough. Always too much. Might as well give up.

Hustle culture seeped into the cracks between interests, projects, and habits. Filling "plot holes". Wrapping themselves bit by little bit around my hobbies and connecting them far too strongly to the wrong side of my 'individual need to survive'[TM]. Because I'm not a being in this reality. Not an entity. Not an individual.

I'm a collection of convenient information aiding an algorithmic search for potential consumption. I'm a number in a line, on a card, in a system, queued up for the "NEXT" thing, and the next and the next, next "NEXT PLEASE".

Hustle and bustle bent everyone backwards into an ouroboros eatery, and I couldn't keep up. I heckin tried (moron that I was) until I stopped laughing, stopped singing, stopped dancing to my own beat. Thought I was free... but nope, it still eats me. I'm still caught in this loop and screeching to break free. All for money. Always for money. Gotta breathe, eat, sleep, repeat, am I right?

What was my point again? Ah yes... anywhoodles. Waxing poetic is a dangerous city of tangents to traverse, and I'm in a mood. So, why bring this up at all?

Because I see the patterns in myself. As I sit here, weaving literal threads in a beautiful pattern suited just for me, my mind wends. Follows the folds. Saunters the winding garden it created and cultivated... and feels torn. Torn between "Do this from joy" and "Make something of this". ie... between 'do what you love' and 'do what I tell you'.

Hustling through created more expectations at my own expense when already the world I grew up in demanded too much of me and was never satisfied. Do we magnify this sensation, this experience, or do we breathe and let be? Blast the cost of living and simply... LIVE?

[personal writing collection: If Only #29; 'Hustling to Nowhere' Aug '24]