#i am terrified that you don’t learn from losing what matters to you

[purifiedclitoris69]

In it together

Hiii. I am alive, just very busy and overwhelmed with living ig. College fucking sucks and so does everything else rn, but figured i get a lil blurb out before i have to lock back into my classes. hope you enjoy!! don’t really know what ima do w my series or when ima update so i am sorry bout that LOL. anyway bye for now 👋👋

You were absolutely exhausted. A 2 week mission with only 3 hours of sleep total takes an intense toll, even if you are a super soldier. Letting the burning hot water run down your back , flashes of the recent mission ran through your mind. The experiment files were horrific, so many deaths, so many children.

You had only been at the compound for about a year and a half now, the team rescuing you from Hydra’s control like Bucky. You were free of the brainwash but not of the memories and this long ass mission had brought it all right back to the surface. It was getting better, your in therapy, bonding with the team, learning how to control your strength, your growing. But this mission, feels like it’s all about to come crumbling down. It made you feel sick. Thoughts of losing yourself, the team… of losing, Natasha, it burned your throat.

What you have with Natasha is confusing, complicated, but nice. No one else knows the true nature of it but you two. Falling into each others beds continuously for the past 8 months, staying tangled in each other, every single night, cuddling, and giggling like little teen girls. The team simply thought you guys were close friends, both you two being spies, it wasn’t too hard to hide your extracurriculars. But you both knew it was more, so much more. You held each other in the most gentlest ways…the most loving, opting not to leave one another when you guys inevitably came undone. In front of the team, you had a front, a quiet brooding one, but with her, it was peaceful, relieving, you felt free, like yourself. It was absolutely terrifying.

Not realizing it tears were beginning to mix with the water running down your face and crescent marks formed in your palms from clenching your fists too hard. You love her. You’re in love with her, but how could you tell her, would you. Your whole life you’ve been used as a weapon, serving for the military, then hydra. You were dangerous…a monster. It was late, almost 2 am, you couldn’t go to her now, she need rest, not a burden. no matter how much you yearned for her warmth. Turning off the burning water, you stepped out into the steam filled bathroom. Drying off, you wrapped the towel around your waist and another draped over your shoulders, you opened the door to your bedroom-on your bed sat Nat. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, her hair was slightly ruffled, she wore an old shirt of yours, and some of her loose sleep shorts. She looked absolutely stunning, you couldn’t help but give a soft tired smile.

“hi.” she spoke softly with a matching smile.

“hi,” you answered stopped in place just taking her in.

“you gonna get dressed,” she smirked tiredly, “tho i don’t mind.”

“oh really” you joked walking over to her and cupping her face as she looked up at you, “i missed you,” you spoke softly the tiredness bringing out a transparency.

She leaned into your hand closing her eyes, “i missed you,” she answered. Your heart swelled and the flashes came back, you could hurt her, what if you lose it. Suddenly taking a step back her cheek still warm from your touch, her eyes flew open. You turned your back, getting dressed by your closet, “is everything okay,” she asked as you pulled your tank top over your head and braced yourself against your dresser.

You opened your mouth unsure what you wanted her to know, “yeah,” was all you could muster.

“I really did miss you,” she walked up behind you wrapping her arms around your waist and leaning her check against your back, just enjoying your smell, “i don’t sleep well without you anymore.”

“me either,” you turned around wrapping your own arms around her middle and looking to the side as hers went to your neck, “it was a rough mission,” you mumbled

“oh, baby,” she spoke, moving her hands to your face this time, “look at me please,” your eyes were burning with unshed tears as they met her soft deep green ones, “oh, my love, it’s okay,” she brought your head down to her shoulder as you released a shaky breath and let your arms fall from around her waist, “is there something else,” she asked dropping her own hands. You walked past her to sit on the bed not really sure where to start as you looked at your hands in your lap, “we don’t have to talk about it, it’s okay,” she spoke sitting beside you and gently take your hands in her own.

You finally looked back at her face, your eyes still glossy. You stared deep into each others eyes, “you’re so beautiful, Natasha,” you said memorizing every detail of her. She laughed quietly as a soft blush rose to her face.

“Shut up,” she said putting her forehead against hers.

She closed her eyes at the action as yours remained open, “I mean it, you’re the prettiest girl there is.”

Her blush grew as she pulled back and looked away slightly, “god i love you,” she mumbled out casually bringing shock to both your faces. She immediately pulled her hands away and stood from the bed, her mouth opening and closing unsure what to say as you looked at her, overwhelmed with emotions, “y/n i’m sorry i-“

“You do?” you asked getting up from the bed with her, “you love me?”

“I..” She spoke uncertain, taking a deep breath in, “y/n i’m in love with you.” You laughed slightly in disbelief. You moved towards her with purpose grabbing her waist and pulling her into a bruising kiss, pouring every amount of love into it as possible, like it was the last time, like you were consumed by everything Natasha. You both grinned wide into the kiss, forcing the two of you to break apart.

Taking a deep breath, “Tasha, I..,” the thoughts all came rushing back. Your going to hurt her, you don’t deserve this love, your going to lose it all.

She moved her hands down from your neck to intertwine with your own, “I know,” she whispered.

“I really do,” you said, your foreheads still pressed together, “I..,” your mouth fell open and closed absolutely terrified to say something wrong, “Im just scared,” you mumbled, closing your eyes, but never dropping your hold.

“Don’t be,” she answered, moving her hands back up to cup your face, “we’re in this together.”

#enhanced!reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #super soldier #natasha angst #angst with a happy ending #fluff #marvel #black widow x reader

[horang-07]

i am about to ramble like a crazy person abt the fnaf movie so scroll if u don’t like spoilers

was not expecting all the love on my last post so i will keep posting thoughts abt the movie

another thing that rlly interested me in the movie was the focus on images, how humans process things through what we see rather than context, and how this sets up the fnaf movie trilogy to focus on fnaf 4 in the next movies.

the most obvious example is abby, we’re explicitly told that children communicate and understand things through pictures, which mike sorta shrugs off until he starts seeing the bigger picture. this then applies to the animatronics when he learns that they are also children and incredibly influenced by the drawings in their environment. the restaurant in the movie is very much a living thing of its own, the way it thrums to life when abby enters, and the animatronics know the truth of the drawing the second it is pinned up, and the animatronics are an extension of that.

a less obvious example is mike. even though he shrugs off abby’s teacher, and the point she makes about him being at the centre of all her pictures, he is much the same. it isn’t just children who are influenced by images. he has been returning to the same image every night for we don’t even know how long, the same picture of the nebraskan trees, the same perfect family picture he describes to vanessa, the same image of his brother looking at him out of the car window. everything he does is a result of this image. he is wholly consumed by it, believes he can somehow change the picture and see the truth beneath it if he just tries hard enough.

the ghost children, specifically golden freddy, change the image for him in an attempt to placate him into giving them abby, but no matter if he dreams of a happy family, it wont change the truth of what happened. just like how pasting a picture of five children happily holding hands with a golden bunny won’t change the truth underneath. images are fallible, they don’t tell the truth and we cannot trust our brains.

firstly i think this is a really fun direction to take in context to how the movie humanises the animatronics. fnaf 1 is a game made entirely of scary, still images of the animatronics, save for the jumpscares and foxy’s run. the lore is sparse and entirely given through exposition (if i hear one more person complain abt vanny only being there for exposition and not phone guy’s two minute loredump at the start of every night in the game i will lose it), and we know nothing other than that our death is imminent.

but the truth is that these animatronics are kids. they’re scared and lost and confused and cannot understand what has happened. underneath bonnie in the west hallway camera and freddy staring at you from the showtime room are terrified kids doing what they feel they have to. the movie was incredibly dedicated to showing that these kids still want to build pillow forts and sing to music and tickle their friends and be a family and i think it was a great choice.

i think all this focus on images is definitely a perfect lead into fnaf 4 (im not 100% on my book lore but i believe there are three books that cover fnaf 1, fnaf 4 and then sister location??) especially with the recent lore update that all of fnaf 4 is hallucinations. we don’t need a lore explanation of how the nightmares could be real because… they aren’t. following the game timeline, fnaf 4 would have already happened by now but we could easily see a return to it through mike, especially if the schmidt-emily or schmidt-afton theories are true and mike could have been the child in fnaf 4 but surpressed his memories. firstly we have a protagonist who is already on sleeping medication and has dreams that can be easily manipulated. this is a perfect setup for the nightmare animatronics to start making themselves known.

i also think that fnaf 1 was intentionally visually tame. the themes of the movie are actually very dark, they don’t shy away from the truth of the bodies being hidden in the suits, the animatronics Very Brutally kill the burglars, max is literally bitten in half and her body is hidden away, but the on-screen gore keeps it pg. this 100% allows them to experiment further with the levels of gore, tension and violence if they do fnaf 4, because quite frankly some of the nightmares are horrifying.

TLDR this movie sets up a million directions and theories that the next one could go in, and theres nothing the fnaf fandom loves more than vague lore and theory crafting

vanny post next bc i have Thoughts

#eden rambles #fnaf spoilers #fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #william afton #five nights at freddy's #vanessa afton #fnaf 4 #fnaf theory

[mrs-snape5984]

“As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face…”

“Save your tears, it'll be okay. All I know is you're here with me…” (“Here with me” by D4vd)

Suffering from ME/CFS makes me feel like my whole world is falling apart in front of my eyes. Since I’ve already lost so much joy and so many abilities due to this devastating disease, my continuing loss seems to increase even further.

As some of you might know, do I love to write my own stories about Severus and Julia just as much as I enjoy using my tumblr blog as some kind of journal, whenever I’ve commissioned another artwork. It’s my way of rolling out a red carpet for the artists of Snapedom…it’s my way of honouring them for their talent in their profession. Commissioning those amazing people and letting them make my ideas and fantasies come to life, is my very own manner of coping with my physical and emotional pain.

And now, this coping mechanism seems to crumble into pieces as well as everything else, that I’ve already lost! It hurts me to admit, that my brain fog takes advantage of my capability to create vivid images with my words. My thoughts are getting blurry and chaotic. I’m struggling to find the right words to express my emotions (it’s even worse in my native language German than in English!!)…and this scares me to hell!

My mind was the only place, where I could find some shelter from my infuriating and terrifying reality of losing myself to ME/CFS. What if I forfeit my only - just barely existing- talent now?? How should I flee this nightmare of existence if writing wouldn’t be an option anymore?! How should I express my gratitude towards all those marvellous artists of Snapedom, who are all weaving my emotional comfort blanket with each piece of their art?!?

I don’t want to give up on my writing…and I won’t…even though my pride would probably fade away with each badly written chapter of my fictions…and with each unworthy post on my blog. I must admit, that I’m already acknowledging the loss of quality. 🥺

I found an inspiring poem about the importance of staying resilient, no matter how difficult the hardships of life might become, and I want to share it with you:

"KEEP GOING" (Better known as "DON'T QUIT") by Edgar A. Guest

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you're trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low and debts are high, And you want to smile but have to sigh.

When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest, if you must, but DON'T YOU QUIT!

Life is queer with its twists and turns, As everyone of us sometimes learns, And many a failure turns about,

When he might have won if he'd stuck it out, Don't give up though the pace seems slow, You might succeed with another blow.

Often the struggler has given up, When he might captured the victor's cup.

And he learned too late, when the night slipped down, How close he was to the golden crown,

Success is failure turned inside out, The silver tint on clouds of doubt, And you never can tell how close you are, It may be near when it seems afar,

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit, It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

My dear @mmad-lover, I can’t stress enough how grateful I am for your dedication to this stunning piece of art and believe me, it was worth every single second of waiting! Paula, I was incredibly touched to hear, that my request seemed to be something special, something personal to you. I can assure you, that, indeed, all of my ideas have a profound meaning to me and I’m glad that you’re such an empathetic person, who sensed that particular importance of your art to me. Your devotion to this drawing is palpable in every single detail, every line of your brushes. You created exactly the mood, that I wished for Severus and Julia. It doesn’t matter that the world is burning to the ground around them, they will always have each other’s backs! Just like I’m relying on Severus for more than 21 years now. Thank you for everything, you precious soul! I’m glad that I met you and I hope, we’ll stay in touch. 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

#Severus x Julia #Sevy x Jules #severus x oc #fuck me/cfs #commissioning artwork is my goddamn coping mechanism #this is my red carpet for all the artists of snape fandom #writing is my coping mechanism #severus snape #i love severus #i love snape #snape #snape love #snape content #pro snape #i would protect him with my life #pro severus snape #snart #severus fanart #severus snape fan art #severus snape art #snape art #mecfs #disability

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 14

Hello there, my amazing readers! Thank you for the messages, I really appreciate your encouraging words! <3 The next chapter is here and finally it's dragon tiimeee. Have fun :)

In the six centuries of recorded history of dragon and rider, there have been hundreds of known cases where a dragon simply cannot emotionally recover from the loss of their bonded rider. This happens when the bond is particularly strong and, in three documented cases, has even caused the untimely death of the dragon.

—Navarre, an Unedited History by Colonel Lewis Markham

Xaden. For the first time, the sight of him fills my chest with hope. He won’t let this happen. He can’t just watch them kill a dragon.

But I know the rules probably better than anyone else in this quadrant, thanks to Violet.

He has to. What Xaden wants, which is always debatable, doesn’t matter here. He can only observe, not interfere.

“And if we don’t want to rethink our actions?” Jack shouts.

Xaden looks toward me, and I swear I can see his jaw clench, even from this far away.

Hope is a fickle, dangerous thing. It steals your focus and aims it toward the possibilities instead of keeping it where it belongs—on the probabilities. Xaden’s words come back to me with alarming clarity, and I rip my gaze from his and concentrate on the four probabilities in front of me.

“There’s nothing you can do, right? Wingleader?” Jack bellows.

Guess he knows the rules, too.

“It’s not me you should worry about today,” Xaden responds and Sgaeyl tilts her head, nothing but menace in her eyes when I glance over.

„I repeat myself. There’s nothing you can do, Wingleader.” Jack mocks him.

“But I can, and I will.” I say behind them.

They quickly turn around and I smile at them. “Four against one? It’s sad that it takes four men to defeat one woman.” I take a step and grin at Violet. “You’re terrifying, Vi.”

“So what? Two against four? We could easily kill you and the dragon.” Oren says and turns fully to face me while unsheating his sword. “You haven’t killed anyone during the challenges. You don’t dare to do it now either, bitch.”

I let my smile fade and I feel cold calmness wash over me.

“You’re threatening our lives, you’re threatening the small dragon’s life. Do you really think that I wouldn’t kill you? You’re dumber than I thought.” I laugh coldly.

“Enough, let’s kill them!” Jack roars and sprints toward Violet.

Fucking coward.

I don’t hesitate as I run toward Oren. He swings for my neck but I easily dodge him with my sword and I slice open his arm.

“You fucking bitch!” He screams and slashes at me with his sword in a wide arc. There’s an opening.

When you let your emotions control you, you’ll lose. That was the first thing I learned.

I side step and with a swift movement with my sword I knock his out from his hand.

He turns to me with fear in his eyes. Now he’s taking me seriously. Too late asshole.

I slice toward his chest and there’s blood.

Blood on my sword. Blood on my clothes.

He touches his chest with wide eyes and falls to his knees. The bleeding does not stop. This is a fatal wound.

I look for Violet and see Barlowe clutching his shoulder as he backs away a few steps, then turns and runs in the opposite direction, disappearing into the tree line in no time.

Good. Run, you piece of shit.

I hear Violet scream and I see as Tynan’s sword cuts into her upper right arm, along the direction of the bone.

“Behind you!” Xaden shouts and I see what he sees.

Without thinking my body moves toward Violet and I arrive just in time to block Rio’s sword, which was ready to separate her head from her shoulders.

“I got your back!” I shout toward Vi, then I look in Rio’s direction and smirk at him. “Hi, squadmate. Couldn’t you choose better?” I aim at his arm, but he dodges.

“You’re the one who will die today, Melgren!” He’s better than I thought. I am forced to defend myself as he tries to wound me. Let’s keep calm. There’s always an opening.

“It’s just the two of you now, asshole. Oren’s dead, and Jack ran away. The odds are against you.” I’m trying to upset him so he can’t concentrate.

“You fucking bitch!” Rage contorts his features, and he moves to strike.

“Original. Can’t you think of anything else? It’s getting boring.” I move to parry his strike. Just a little bit more. “I don’t think there’s a dragon in the Valley which would be able to tolerate you’re shitty personality. I’m really surprised that you lived through the Presentation Day.”

He roars and charges at me. Finally.

I deflect his blow and with a kick in his side he loses balance.

He staggers back and I don’t leave enough time for him to regain his balance. I strike, aiming at his sword. Again. And again.

He drops his sword and looks at me with a horrified gaze.

I prepare for the last strike but suddenly he turns around and…run.

What the hell?!

I release my right hand’s grip on the sword’s hilt and I unsheathe a dagger near my thigh.

Without aiming, I throw it after him, relying purely on instinct. The dagger finds its mark in his back. He screams and slows down but  he manages to escape.

He won’t get far with that injury. He’ll probably die before he meets anyone.

I chance a quick glance at Xaden and Sgaeyl. Yeah, she looks pissed. Her head undulates in a serpentine motion—a clear sign of agitation—and those narrowed golden eyes of hers are focused on Tynan. Our last opponent.

A gust of wind slams into us as I stare with wide eyes.

Standing with the golden one tucked under an enormous, scarred black wing is the biggest dragon I’ve ever seen in my life—the unbonded black dragon Professor Kaori showed us in class. I don’t even come close to reaching its ankle.

So that’s why Rio ran away.

A growl resonates through its chest, vibrating the ground around me as it lowers its gigantic head, baring dripping teeth.

Fuck, we’re doomed.

Suddenly Violet grabs my arm and pulls me away. She has a strange look in her eyes.

The black dragon’s eyes narrow to glare at Tynan and he opens his mouth wide a second before fire shoots across the field, blasting heat against the side of my face and incinerating everything in its path…including Tynan.

“He deserved it.” I mutter.

Flames crackle at the edges of the blackened path, and I turn slowly to face the dragon, wondering if we’re about to be next.

“I didn’t kill them because there’s always another way.” Violet lifts her chin and looks at the dragon.

Sweet Malek. This giant dragon is chose her?

“Because she’s strong and I am not.” She looks at me at the corner of her eyes.

“That’s not true, Vi!” I protest. “I don’t know the topic but you’re strong! One of the strongest person I know. Don’t underestimate yourself!”

She smiles and looks back at the dragon.

„Well, that’s a statement on his character. Not mine.” Vi shrugs.

They communicate with each other.

There’s a flash of blue out of the corner of my eye, then a whoosh of air as Xaden and Sgaeyl take off, leaving us here with the giant black dragon and the little golden one.

“It’s not that simple when you’ve been run through with a-“ Vi shakes her head and she’s trying to tear off a piece from her shirt with one hand.

“Let me help you.” I say and I look between Violet and the dragon.

The dragon only blinks which I take as an approval.

I sheathe my sword and I help wrap a piece of cloth around her arm.

The dragon lifts his head, and the golden dragon peeks out from under his wing.

“How do you know my name?” Violet asks.

The dragon huffs.

„Get on your back?” She stares. “Have you seen you? Do you have any idea how huge you are?” I’d need a damned ladder to get up there.”

“Vi, don’t argue! Just go.” I look at her with a raised eyebrow. She’s arguing with a dragon. No sane person would do.

The golden one bends down, flexing its legs, and then launches into the sky, its golden wings catching the sun as it flies off, skimming the tops of the trees.

“But what about you?” She looks at me with concern.

“Don’t worry, Vi. I can protect myself.” I laugh at her. “Besides it’s almost nightfall. Somebody will find me.” I shrug.

It’s actually sad. It’s almost over and I was not chosen.

“Uhm…he said that you wait here.” Vi says hesitantly.

“Okay.” I nod slowly. “Now go, you need to show your mother that you did it.” I smile.

The dragon stretches his leg, like a ramp. Violet then climb on and with a last glance they’re off.

Fucking hell. Violet is bonded to one of the strongest dragons.

I start laughing histerically and plop down on the ground.

I killed one probably two people. Violet is bonded. And I sit here with blood all over me and l just laugh. What a day.

I hope Liam and Ethan are bonded too.

I clam down slowly and I look up at the sky. It’s darkening. Probably I should go back. I slowly make my way toward the woods when there’s a roar and a gust of wind.

The ground shakes and I turn around, stumbling.

“I think Tairn told you to stay here. Where do you think you’re going?” I hear a male voice in my head.

I look at the dragon and my breath catches.

An enermous blue dragon stands in front of me.

Oh, god he’s huge. And his colors are extremely beautiful. Blue but it’s not that simple. His torso is a darker shade, almost like midnight blue. Toward his legs and wings it becomes brighter. There’s so much color on him. Blue but so many shades. He’s the most impressive dragon that I ever saw.

But…wait. He talked to me?

“Uhm, Tairn?” I ask hesitantly still not sure if I heard it right. “Do you mean Violet’s dragon?”

“Yes, and you heard me right. I’m talking to you, little one.” He lower his head and huffs at me.

“Do you choose me?” I ask him with wide eyes.

“Why are you asking the obvious?”

“I’m just surprised. I thought that Threshing was over and I wasn’t chosen.” I shrug.

“Don’t be impatient. You had to prove yourself to me, vicious one. I won’t choose someone who is not worth my time.” He straightens and flicks his tail. “Now climb up, we’re late.”

Damn. Is he a morningstartail?

“So what? Who will blame us? You’re a dragon.” I laugh.

“You’re a smart human.” He slowly blinks at me. It was an approval?

“I’m bloody. Do you not mind?” I point to myself.

“No. You bear the blood of our enemies. Be proud of it. You are alive and so is your little friend. Now enough with the chatting. We’re late, so hurry!”

I don’t hesitate. I run and I climb in the same way as I did at the Gauntlet.

It was…surprisingly easy. The practice paid off.

I climb over his shoulder and reach his back, dodging the pointed spikes that ripple down most of his neck like a mane.

“Sit.”

I see the seat—the smooth, scaly divot, just in front of his wings—and sit, bending my knees like Professor Kaori taught us. Then I grab ahold of the thick ridges of scales we call the pommel, where his neck meets his shoulders.

“My name is Aonniasach. Descended from the powerful Gormfaileas line.” He stands to his full height, bringing me eye level with the canopy of trees around the clearing, and I squeeze a little tighter with my thighs. “But I’m not going to assume that you’ll be able to remember that once we reach the field, so Aon will do.”

I inhale swiftly, but there’s no time to process his name—his history—before he bends slightly and launches us into the sky.

It feels like I imagine a stone does after being flung from a catapult, except it’s thrilling. The ground falls away as we soar, Aon’s enormous wings beating the air into submission and pitching upward.

And we’re flying.

#fourth wing #fanfiction #fourth wing fanfic #liam mairi #the fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #oc #the empyrean #xaden x oc #xaden riorson x oc #sgaeyl #tairn #andarna #dragons

[crowsource]

🐦‍⬛ 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — quotes taken from ava reid's novel. some edits have been made to allow for rp purposes. feel free to adjust for pronouns/names/etc.

❝ It began as all things did: a girl on the shore, terrified and desirous. ❞

❝ The ephemerality of things is what gives them meaning. ❞

❝ They were both creatures of rage and salt and foam. Both could strip me to the bone. ❞

❝ I wanted nothing more than to tempt their wrath, because if I were brave enough, I might earn their love instead. ❞

❝ I was a treacherous, wrathful, wanting thing, just like he was. Just as he had always wanted me. ❞

❝ Although the tide pools had not shown me my face, I had been revealed. ❞

❝ It was fae-like trickery. There was no answer that wouldn’t damn me. ❞

❝ You’re so pretty. You really are. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. Do you know that? ❞

❝ We must discuss, then, the relationship between women and water. When men fall into the sea, they drown. When women meet the water, they transform. It becomes vital to ask: is this a meta-morphosis, or a homecoming? ❞

❝ I wanted to say I don’t believe you. ❞

❝ I wanted to say thank you. ❞

❝ I wanted to say tell me more about who I am because I don’t know anymore. ❞

❝ I could tell the whole story as if it had happened to someone else, and it would be completely painless. ❞

❝ The weight of a memory is one thing. You get very used to swimming with it dragging you down. Once it's loosed, you hardly know what to do with your body. You don't understand its lightness. ❞

❝ You don't have to take up a sword. Survival is bravery, too. ❞

❝ In the end I learned that the water was in me. It was a ghost that could not be exorcised. But a guest, even uninvited, must be attended to. ❞

❝ If you can learn to love that which despises you, you can dance on the shore and play in the waves again, like you did when you were young. ❞

❝ Anything can be taken from you, at any moment. Even the past isn't guaranteed. You can lose that too, slowly, like water eating away at stone. ❞

❝ It saved me in more ways than I can count. Because I knew no matter how afraid I felt, I wasn't truly alone. ❞

❝ Are there any ships on the horizon? Will they signal back to me? I never got the chance to know. ❞

❝ But stories were devious things, things with agendas. They could cheat and steal and lie to your face. They could crumble away under your feet. ❞

❝ I wish I had fought. ❞

❝ I know I beat him in the end, but for so many years all I could do was run and hide. I just sat there and let the water pour in around me. ❞

❝ I didn’t know that I could fight back. I didn’t know how to do anything but wait to drown. ❞

❝ Every wanting man has the same wound he can use to slip in. ❞

❝ I wanted you, too. For so long. It was terrible. ❞

❝ Sometimes I could barely eat—sorry, I know that sounds like the strangest thing. But for days I didn't feel hungry at all. I was... occupied. ❞

❝ You took away all the other wanting from me. ❞

❝ It was a beautiful house, but not a clever one. It was a house with no imagination. ❞

❝ Fear could make a believer of anybody. ❞

❝ Didn't all drownings begin with a harmless dribble of water? ❞

❝ There's very little worse than when our heroes fail us, is there? ❞

❝ Men just say whatever they want and everyone believes them. ❞

❝ Love transcends petty theological squabbles. ❞

❝ But if fairies and monsters were real, so were the women who defeated them. ❞

❝ It doesn't matter. I'm not afraid to care about you. ❞

❝ It's very hard to believe something when it feels like the whole world is trying to convince you otherwise. ❞

❝ You're not just one thing. Survival is something you do, not something you are. ❞

❝ You're brave and brilliant. You're the most real, full person I've ever met. ❞

❝ The sea is treacherous, but women are even more treacherous. ❞

❝ You don't see yourself very clearly. ❞

❝ Challenging me isn't pestering. I'm not always right. Sometimes I deserve to be challenged. And changing your mind isn't foolish. It just means you've learned something new. ❞

❝ Everyone changes their mind sometimes, as they should, or else they're just, I don't know, stubborn and ignorant. ❞

❝ Moving water is healthy; stagnant water is sickly. Tainted. ❞

❝ If you want to see what you are, look into the tide pools at dusk. Look into the sea. ❞

❝ I will love you to ruination. ❞

❝ You can die as easily of thirst as you can of drowning. ❞

❝ Love is a fire that cannot burn alone. ❞

❝ The better you know someone, the more terribly you could hurt them. ❞

❝ You don't have to love something in order to devote yourself to it. ❞

❝ A romance is a belief in the impossible: that anything ends happily. ❞

❝ If a story repeated itself so many times over, building itself up brick by brick, did it eventually become the truth? A house with no doors and no windows, offering no escape. ❞

❝ How terrible, to navigate the world without a story to comfort you. ❞

❝ That was the cruelest irony: the more you did to save yourself, the less you became a person worth saving. ❞

❝ I was a woman when it was convenient to blame me, and a girl when they wanted to use me. ❞

❝ I believe you. ❞

❝ Things are only beautiful because they don't last. Full moons, flowers at bloom. You. ❞

#crowsource #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #rp prompts #sentence starters #rp sentence starters #roleplay prompt #rp starters #roleplay memes

[skellymom]

"Return to Pabu" Part 2

Companion piece to "Cup Of Caf"

To read "Return to Pabu" Part 1

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/740375615328354305/return-to-pabu-part-1?source=share

Background: The Batch returns to Pabu with Crosshair in tow. How will he adapt? Particularly in this chapter, what will life look like for the other Batchers as they settle into civilian life? Pabu is this happy little bubble. This tiny slice of happiness and stability before the Empire shits all over this beautiful planet. Want you readers to enjoy The Batchers being happy in this chapter.

The reader (main character) from Cup Of Caf is mentioned. This story is from the point of view of The Batch and Crosshair.

(My OC Maadienne "Mad Momma" Dax makes an appearance as Hunter's love interest. Since this story takes place in an alternate universe from "Vagabonds", Love, Sil, and Tiggy do not make an appearance. Admittedly, since TBB S3 will be starting up here in a few weeks, this might be the only happy ending Hunter and Mad get. I am currently unsure if I'll be able to finish the "Vagabonds" series before the S3 hype hits. Lol, started myself a fucking novel with that one! So...I'm being really self indulgent with my OC and her love interest in this shorter series. IT FEELS SO GOOD! Thanks for understanding.)

Word Count: 1.5K

Warning: None. Angst, sadness, fluff, some alcohol use, babies. Affection and types of romantic relationships other than Cishet.

Lovely dividers by the talented @saradika

The next morning Crosshair was gone, his bed empty. Hunter, terrified of losing Cross again, was about to track him down. Echo intervened. 

“He’ll come back. Just needs time to sort out his thoughts...alone.” 

Hunter nodded and proceeded to Omega’s room. She was gone. He had forgotten she slept over at Lyana’s house. Wrecker spent the night with Shep. 

Mad emerged from their bedroom dressed and planted a kiss on Hunter’s cheek. 

“Bye Hunky.” 

Hunter mildly panicked “Wait. Where are you going?” 

“Phee and I are spending the day doing ‘Woman Stuff’. Probably don’t remember, you seemed pretty drunk last night.” 

She stopped, looked at Echo then Hunter. “What’s the matter? Lookin’ sad there Handsome.” 

“Oh...uh...nothing.” 

“He’s sad because his squad up and left him.” 

“Now Echo...” 

“It’s strange not being totally in charge, huh? Gives you lots of time to do other things?” 

Hunter was silent, still sulking. 

Mad’s heart went out to him. “You want me to stay home with you today?” 

Hunter gave her puppy dog eyes. 

“Use your words, Hunky. What’s your head say versus you heart?” 

Hunter scowled. “Both say words are hard.” 

Echo chuckled. “Run away Mad, I’ve got him. Go have fun with Phee.” 

Mad smiled, hugged Hunter who took in her scent, and squeezed back. 

“You can’t ever leave Echo. This man needs you as an emotional interpreter.” 

She kissed Hunter then pecked Echo on the cheek before dashing out the door. “THANKS!” 

Both stood there red-faced grinning. 

“I LOVE that woman.” Hunter beamed. 

Echo clapped Hunter on the back. “C’mon, let’s go sneak Tech some caf at the Med Ward.” 

And so, the weeks passed by with Crosshair disappearing all morning, finally returning by afternoon. No idea where he went. The Batch didn’t ask at first. Omega had theories, which she shared with her brothers, Mad and Phee.  

Then the rumors started around the island: The local potter, usually rather withdrawn, was making the rounds around the island. Purchasing food for “The Grumpy Man.” Rumors were confirmed as the skinny bald sniper started filling out. His skin and hair becoming healthy and lustrous.  

Omega set out to start learning how to cook, roping Wrecker in as her sidekick. They packed up meals for Crosshair, insisting he share the food with his new friend. At first, he scoffed, then relented. Eventually Cross slowly started inserting himself into the evening cooking sessions in The Batcher House. 

Crosshair would imbibe in drink and eventually loosen up...for his standards. Sharing small bits and pieces of his experiences while away from the Batch. But nothing TOO deep. Cross was always content to watch the antics of his very happy family. 

Wrecker and Shep would bring in the catch of the day. Then sit and drink, sharing loving touches and sweet glances at one another. They announced their engagement and planned to wed soon. The whole island was invited to the ceremony and reception. They coordinated with Echo on refreshments and Wrecker planned the menu, wanting to cook for his own wedding reception...with Omega’s help, of course. 

Echo, in charge of refreshments, would open a bottle of Spotchka or throw together a Fuzzy Bantha or some other cocktail. Tech had built Echo a mechanical hand that could be switched out with his scomp. From that point on, Echo was the official Batcher Bartender. It wasn’t just throwing together a drink, it was a SHOW! He tossed bottles in the air, catching them, pouring with finesse, lighting the brightly colored alcohol on fire (for Wrecker especially), adding exotic ingredients that Tech helped suggest for certain palates, some of which Phee brought back from her travels.  

On the crazier nights, Echo would toss bottles and Wrecker cooking implements in unison while Mad and Phee sang and Shep hammered percussion on the wooden table with his large hands. Hunter would get up from the table to dance, dragging Crosshair with him. The competition was fierce as both men had an intense “Dance Off” to one up each other.   

Tech was learning the fine art of highbrow humor, especially after one (or several) of Echo’s cocktails. He and Phee would have constant banter at the table. They were hysterically funny when Tech reached the confused slurry speech stage. Phee enjoyed playfully teasing him while he rambled on, index finger raised...then trailing off as he had lost his train of thought. She’d gently slip her hand into his raised one and caress it. Tech would blush red(der) and smile. 

Hunter and Mad sat leaning against each other, shoulder to thigh. Basking in love, occasionally whispering something into each other’s ear. Things that brought their own blush and smile. They shared a secret...eventually requesting Echo make her drinks sans alcohol. Hunter instructed Echo to add Mad’s to his drink, making it a double. By the end of the night Tech and Hunter would carry on a drunken conversation that NOBODY understood except the two of them. Everyone would get hugs though. Even Tech would embrace the guests before everyone left...as Phee eventually escorted him to the sofa. Hunter never made it that far, choosing the comfort of the floor. Wrecker tucked Lula under his head, before leaving to spend the night at Shep’s place. 

Echo would help Mad and Phee clean up, then hug Omega goodnight. He would awaken early like clockwork the next morning, brewing caf in the kitchen. Echo and Crosshair would nod to each other, as Echo slid the packaged food across the kitchen island to him. Then smile as Cross quietly left the house. Afterwards Echo nudged Tech and Hunter awake to start the day. 

Dinner came and went. The Batchers kept their drinking to a minimum tonight. Everyone just wanted a quiet evening. Hunter and Tech wanted to sleep in an actual bed again. Mad and Phee WANTED THEM to sleep in an actual bed again. 

Besides, Hunter and Mad had an announcement to make: Mad was expecting. While everyone was beyond happy and joyful, it was no surprise. A definite event to celebrate. Wrecker brought a cake to the table and Hunter handed Mad his vibroknife to cut it.  

“Uh...we don’t have something maybe...CLEANER to use?” 

“Made sure to wipe it down properly.” 

“Let me guess...this has some kind of significance, yeah?” Mad cocked an eye at Hunter. 

“Well, I WILL be using this knife...MY knife to cut our child’s umbilical cord.” 

“WHAT???” Mad frantically searching Hunters stone cold expression for any trace of total BS. 

“I’ll wipe the blade down properly beforehand. Especially if it’s a C-section.” 

“HUNTER, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMNED MIND???” 

Hunter’s face was dead serious...until everyone at the table burst out laughing. Then he winked at Mad. 

"Kriff! Thought the booze pickled your brain!!!” 

Hunter gently took the knife from Mad, flipped it back and forth expertly one handed and slid it back into its sheath. Suddenly, he knelt down beside her on one knee. The laughter in the room died down to total silence. Mad could see from everyone’s face this was spontaneous and unexpected. 

“Mad” Hunter took both of her hands in his.  

He cleared his throat. Hunter’s expression was mixed: Intensely passionate but nervous. He was out of his element and not used to doing this sort of thing in front of others. 

“Ah...As you know, I’m not the kind of guy whose all about grand public gestures...but I was struck in the moment to tell you...in front of the most important group of people in my life to the most important individual who is carrying my child...that I LOVE YOU intensely with my VERY BEING.”  

Mad slightly cocked her head and gave him her veiled sassy “No duh, Hunky” expression. Hunter almost broke out in nervous laughter but caught himself. Clearing his throat again, he leaned in slightly. Mad got serious and mirrored this gesture. They were close enough to intensely look into each other's eyes and focus on one another. The rest of the room seemed to fall away into the distant background and disappear. Just two people declaring to each other their deepest desires. 

Hunter continued. “I know we didn’t plan for this to happen.” He lovingly stroked her belly. Mad squeezed his hand. “I also know we didn’t plan to be formally married...and I don’t expect that. Heck...” He looked slightly embarrassed letting it all hang out. “I don’t have a ring...or technically own ANYTHING...I’m...poor. But I have a life to give and I want to give it to you. I’ll be the most devoted father to this baby and the most devoted partner to you.”  

“I know the Nomaadi don’t stay in one place too long. And...if you’ll have me...If you want me...I’ll go anywhere and everywhere you want to go. I want both of us to be together for whatever amount of time we have left in this life.” 

Silence. 

Then Mad spoke. “Hunter...” Her voice caught a hitch and she inhaled sharply. She was touched deeply by this gesture of vulnerability and commitment. The baby, barely formed yet, fluttered sharply inside her belly...the first time she ever felt its presence. Everything seemed so REAL suddenly, not just the concept of being pregnant... 

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

Part 3 will drop next week!

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb hunter #hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tech #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb echo #echo #tbb omega #omega #tbb shep #shep hazard #skellymom #mad #star wars fan fiction #tbb fan fiction #the bad batch fan fiction #the bad batch fan fic #tbb fan fic #tbb sergeant hunter #the bad batch sergeant hunter #return to pabu part 2 #hunter x mad #tbb hunter x mad

[heavyhitterheaux]

Jack x First Lady : Final doctors appointment with the babies 🥺

warnings: mention of a miscarriage

Jack was holding your hand and you squeezed it a little tighter once you saw the babies pop up on the screen as your OB/GYN was doing your last ultrasound before the two of you would meet them.

“And there they are!”

“Does everything look okay?” You quietly asked hoping for a good answer.

Throughout this entire pregnancy, the word miscarriage had been steadily in the back of your mind no matter how much you tried to block it out. You never brought this up to Jack because you knew it was probably in the back of his mind too.

Going from losing one to now having three was definitely a surprise. 

“So for baby B, he’s a little smaller than expected. But we already discussed since they’re being born seven weeks early, they have to be monitored a bit closer after your c section to make sure everything is okay with them. But the last thing that I want you to do is worry. You two have done enough of that for now and you’ll be able to do that for the rest of their lives. Come tomorrow you’re going to be parents of triplets and the real fun begins.”

You were quiet on the ride home and when Jack stopped at a red light, he turned to see that you were looking straight on and silently crying.

“Baby? What’s wrong?! Why are you crying?!”

“I… I’m not sad. These are happy tears. I did it. I fucking did it.”

“Did what?”

“Carried three babies at one time to term, well to term as they're going to get, but… I… when I found out there were three of them…”

“I know, that was your first thought. A miscarriage happening again.”

“I knew my heart wouldn’t be able to take that and I knew that yours wouldn’t be able to either. I’m just really happy. They’re almost here. I’m a little scared for Axel, but I know who his dad is and the last thing that he’s going to do is give up.”

“Babe… they aren’t even here yet and you got me crying already.” Jack said as he quickly wiped his eyes so that they wouldn’t cloud his vision.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I don’t mean to! But Jackman… we’re about to be somebody's parents. For the rest of our lives. And I am TERRIFIED.”

“I think that’s how all parents feel, but we know that they’re going to be surrounded by love and we’re going to mess up. That’s a given, but as long as we learn from it and do better, we’re going to kill this parenting thing.”

“As long as I’ve got you by my side, I know that there’s nothing we can’t do together.”

“You’ve been my entire world since I was 14 and now it’s about to get a little bigger and I can’t wait.” Jack said while leaning over to kiss your forehead.

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow concepts #first lady of pg concepts

[somuchbetterthanthat]

JONELIAS WEEK IS HERE!!!!!! Day 1 - Vampires / Self-destruction A small ficlet to complement the beautiful stunning art from @kalgalen

Day 1 - Self-destruction / Vampires 

Without his weapons, Jon feels naked. His hands itch for them as he follows Jonah to the bedroom, all too aware that his host can hear the fear pulsing at his throat, his heart racing in his chest, so loud that it fills all the quiet, solemn silence between them. He wishes that Jonah had lost it immediately, that he’d pushed Jon against a wall and sucked him dry before Jon could even formulate why he was here, when he should have fled London a week ago.

But Jonah’s too old a vampire to be so thoughtless, and too much of an arse to let Jon have this one kindness. Jon wonders what he would do if he attacked him anyway — there are ways to kill vampires bare-hands, if you’re competent enough and Jon… God, Jon is competent. He was not even nine when he got rid of his first vampire. 

He could kill Jonah. Instead, he’s going to let Jonah kill him. 

The bedroom is softly lit, and Jonah’s hand brush for the first time against Jon’s wrist. Jon startles, skin burning under the gentle and icy touch, but he lets Jonah grab him, lets him pull them both to the couch in the corner, near the fireplace, until Jon is half-sitting on Jonah’s lap, now too close to ignore the unmoving torso against his, its unnatural coldness, and the hint of sharpness in Jonah’s thoughtful smile. 

“I could keep you as a thrall for a few decades first, if that reassures you,” he murmurs at last, fingers dancing at the edge of Jon’s throat.

Jon scowls at him. He thought he would be too terrified at what’s to come to manage to speak until it was done, but apparently his annoyance at Jonah’s general behaviour is enough to make him snap:

“Out of the question. You promised, Jonah.” 

“Equal, or nothing at all, yes.” 

The words are spoken with too much fondness, too much desire. They’ve been burnt into Jon’s mind ever since they were first whispered, months ago. They send goosebumps on his arms, as Jonah raises his wrist to his mouth, pressing a delicate kiss on it. This is me, saving the world, Jon had growled at Basira and Melanie, two weeks ago, but he knew then, as they knew too, as he knows now that saving the world of Jonah’s thirst for horror is only a happy, fortunate afterthought. That Jon would have ended up here anyway, because Jonah is not the only one who was caught in something unexpected and wider than his initial plans.

“Get on with it,” Jon mutters, softer than before. 

“I know you’re not one for rituals or formalities,” Jonah chides in return. “But I am not going to treat it as a matter of little importance. I should have made a party of it, truly. This deserves to be savoured, beloved.”

Jon shivers. Instinct is screaming at him to run. His years of training are, instead, reminding him of all the weaknesses Jonah is displaying right now, everything Jon could be exploiting. He wants to close his eyes and shut it all out, wants Jonah to take charge and stop talking and make the choice, but he’s made the promise right back at him. Jon has agency here. Jon has power. Jon has chosen.

“Fine,” he breathes. “Fine. Kiss me, then.”

Jonah obliges, leaning forwards. This is another way to lose himself, Jon thinks, clumsily burying his hands in Jonah’s silky hair. Every kiss with Jonah feels like drowning — there is little one can do to stop a vampire that loves you once you’ve allowed him to touch, little you can say to remind them that you need to breathe, even if they don’t. Jonah only drags his lips to Jon’s jaw once Jon is already seeing blackspots, and keeps going lower and lower until his teeth are grazing against his stuttering pulse.

“You’ll learn to love it,” Jonah promises with a certainty that Jon doesn’t have at all. “You were not made for something as insignificant as human life, Jon. You will love eternity.”

“I love you,” Jon only replies, dizzy and terrified. 

“I love you,” repeats Jonah and offers no other warning before biting him.

#joneliasweek2023 #jonelias #tma stories #me: my brain cannot form tma thoughts anymore #je week: jonelias vampires tho #me: say no more #the magnus archives

[katsu28]

always a hero

pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

summary: you never expected to lose Eddie before all of your dreams together came true, but the end of the world had a funny way of ruining things

warnings: swearing, 4k words of PAIN, lots of blood, major character death, MAJOR S4 SPOILERS!!!

a/n: listennn so i know i said fluff and fix it fics and i am working on a few, but i couldn’t help it (i’m so sorry)

masterlist + taglist

(not so fun fact: i had to rewatch this scene to make a gif and ya girl bawled her eyes out...again)

Never in your lifetime did you think you’d ever be gearing up to save Hawkins—let alone twice in one year. The Mind Flayer’s defeat at Starcourt seemed like just yesterday, but now here you were again, risking your life for the safety of a town you weren’t even sure deserved it anymore. Not after how they’d gone on a witch hunt after your boyfriend. 

As if Eddie could sense you were thinking about him, his scuffed up white sneakers appeared in your line of sight, voice lilting and even the slightest bit teasing. “Now you look like you could use some cheering up.” 

“Cheering up for the end of the world? That’s new.” You snorted, looking up from your half-finished weapon to see him smiling down at you like you were holding a brand new Fender, not a crudely made spear whose only purpose was to maim and kill. “Why do you look so happy?”

Eddie shrugged, plopping down in the grass next to the overturned bucket you were sitting on with his legs splayed out in front of him as he leaned back on his palms casually. “Kinda exciting, don’t you think? Saving the world?” 

“If we can save the world.” 

“Wow, you’re being really cynical today, aren’t you, sweetheart?” 

“I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with spending possibly the last day of my life trying to save a town that’s been nothing but horrible to us.” 

Eddie scooted closer to you, resting his chin on your knee as he looked up at you, his expression impossibly serious. “Hey, stop it. You’re not gonna die, Y/N, nobody’s gonna die. Nobody except Vecna. Everything is gonna be fine, okay?” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“You’re right, I don’t,” He sighed, tapping a ring-clad finger on your thigh thoughtfully. “But I choose to believe that the plan is gonna work, and that someday in the future, we can all look back and laugh at this. Y’know, ‘hey, remember that time in ‘86 when I was accused of murder and we saved the Hawkins from that creepy Vecna guy? Yeah, what a crazy week that was’.” 

You smiled at his attempt to make light of everything, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “How are you not scared?” You murmured, to which Eddie let out a breathy chuckle. 

“Oh, I’m absolutely terrified.” He shook his head. “Yeah, scared shitless.” 

“But you’re still laughing it up, cracking jokes. How do you do that?” 

Eddie sighed, pondering for a few seconds before responding. “When you grow up the way I did, with a dad like mine…you learn to make the best out of every situation. No matter how dark or completely batshit crazy things might seem, you try to find the light in it all.” 

“How is it that you always know just what to say to calm me down?” You murmured, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m good like that.” 

You set your weapon off to the side in favor of cupping Eddie’s face in your hands gently, your fingers mapping every contour and slope of his features like you were trying to commit him to memory. He just peered up at you through the fringe of thick lashes that framed his beautiful brown eyes, tilting his head to kiss your fingertips as they ghosted across his cheeks in a way that had both of you smiling at each other like idiots. 

“After all this is over, you and me—we’re takin’ a road trip, baby,” Eddie declared, tongue poking out from between his teeth as he reached up to lace his fingers with yours excitedly. “I dunno where yet, but we’re going!” 

“Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?” 

“Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, definitely.” He nodded fiercely. “Is there a heavy metal hall of fame? There’s gotta be.” 

“We’ll figure it out.” 

“Fuck yeah, we’ll figure it out. Anywhere you wanna go, sweetheart, we’ll go.” Eddie slapped his palm against your leg happily. “We’re gonna get the fuck out of this goddamn town for a long time. Travel the country. Maybe never come back. Haven’t thought that far yet.” 

“You’d leave Dustin here?” You raised an amused eyebrow, casting a glance over at the younger curly haired boy play-fighting with Lucas in the distance. There was no denying that over the school year, Eddie and Dustin had become really close. Sometimes you even liked to joke that Eddie had become Dustin’s second dad (the first one being Steve, of course). 

Eddie followed your gaze, shrugging. “He can come too.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t tell him I said this, but I think he’d miss me a little too much if I ever left him here.” 

“I think you’re right about that.” 

He smiled softly, then suddenly looped his arms around your waist, yanking you down onto the grass next to him with a gleeful cackle, shifting above you with his knees on either side of your body. It was cold and slightly wet from this morning’s dew, but none of it mattered compared to the way Eddie was beaming down at you. 

“What the fuck, Eds?” You breathed, gazing up at him incredulously. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

“Good. Just wanted to make sure we both were super clear on that.” 

“Weirdo.” 

Eddie wrinkled his nose in mock offense, a smile still stretching his face as he leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. You reciprocated happily, feeling like all your troubles were melting away when you were with him, until— 

“Alright, stop eating each other’s faces! We gotta roll out.” Dustin’s disgusted voice had Eddie pulling away from you, scowling up at him. 

“Henderson, I swear to god—” He grumbled, but you poked him in the ribs. “Nevermind.” 

“Come on, lovebirds. It’s go time.” 

Eddie pulled himself to his feet, offering you a hand that you gladly took. You grabbed your spear, took a deep breath, and then helped load everything into the RV. 

The ride to the Creel house was tense, to say the least. Even though all you wanted to do was stay with Eddie and Dustin, your part in the plan was to stay with Erica at the old playground across the street from Lucas and Max in the house, just in case something went wrong. They were all just kids, after all. Eddie had been adamant on you staying safe, and there was no point in arguing with him about it (you’d already tried and failed).

“Please be careful, Eddie.” You pleaded, holding his face firmly in both hands to look him dead in the eye. “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“What’s stupider than being the bait for a swarm of demon bats in Hawkins the horror dimension?” He teased, but sobered up at your unamused glare, nodding quickly. “Yeah, no, I’ll be careful. I promise.” 

You cast a glance over at the open window that Dustin was currently hanging out of. “Make sure he doesn’t try anything dumb, alright, Dustin?” 

“I’ll do my best.” 

Eddie made a noise of indignation, but you kissed him before he could voice his protests, mashing your lips against his fervently. You pulled away before it could get too heated, and when you did, Eddie looked dazed, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. 

“Good luck, Eds. Come back to me in one piece, okay?” You said softly, bringing him into a brief hug before stepping onto the pavement next to the kids. He just nodded again, stumbling backwards when Steve pulled him back into the RV. “Watch each other’s backs, everyone.” 

With that, the RV rumbled off down the road, leaving the four of you to stick to your parts of the plan. 

-------

It was dark out the next time you heard from someone on the radio. Your nerves were already going haywire, so when you heard Dustin’s voice, you were immediately scared. 

“—does anyone copy? Eddie—the bats—help!!!” His voice was garbled and staticky through the walkie talkie, but you felt your chest clench at the words you could make out. 

You snatched the device off the ground with shaky hands, bringing it up to your mouth. “Dustin, this is Y/N! Repeat what you just said.” 

There was feedback from the walkie, then Dustin’s voice again, still cutting in and out. “Y/N! Get to the trailer, now. Please, I need—mayday, mayday—” 

“What’s happening???” You exclaimed, locking wide eyes with an equally as worried Erica. Nothing but static. “Dustin, report back.” 

“Y/N, just go! I can handle this,” Erica insisted, shaking her head furiously when you tried to object. “I got this, go help Dustin!” 

You let out a sharp breath, pulling her into a tight hug before all but hurling yourself out of the jungle gym and making a mad dash for the rusty bike you’d found at the corner of the property earlier. It wasn’t the best mode of transportation, but it would have to do. “Please be safe, Erica! And use the walkie if you need me to come back!” 

She shooed you away with a nod, and you were off, pedaling as fast as you possibly could towards the trailer park, so fast that you wouldn’t be surprised if the old bike fell apart from such vigorous use after so long. 

It seemed like forever until you finally got to Eddie’s trailer (and it certainly didn’t help that your heart was climbing its way up your throat the entire time), skidding to a stop and leaping off. You made a mad dash for the door, wrenching it open with as much force as you could muster. 

The second your eyes landed on the rope that previously bridged the gap between the two worlds coiled on the floor of Eddie’s living room like it had been cut, and neither Dustin nor Eddie were anywhere to be found, you had a gut feeling that something had gone terribly wrong. It was a struggle getting yourself up to the ceiling to climb your way through the hole, but after a frustratingly long time, you managed to get through and land on your feet.

The disgusting squelching of the dark vines curled around every surface of this world made you shudder as you looked around the trailer for the boys, eyebrows furrowing when they weren’t there. They were supposed to be there. 

Dustin’s makeshift trash can shield lay case aside on the floor in front of the wide open door. The rest of the place looked like it had been ripped apart—Eddie’s things strewn every which way, bat guts splattering the walls, splintered pieces of what you assumed were the boys’ spears littering the floor. 

“Eddie, Dustin, where are you?” You called, fighting the waver in your voice as your mind whirled through all the possible explanations to why they weren’t where they said they’d be after the plan was done. 

No response. 

You stepped outside, eyes searching the area surrounding the trailer for any sign of the two boys and still coming up short, and every second that ticked by that you didn’t know where either of them were had your heart pounding a little harder against your ribcage in fear. 

Where the hell were they?  

It wasn’t until you heard a wail from a few trailers away that you really started to panic. Your feet started moving before your mind could catch up, feet pounding against the ground in the direction of the cry until you saw the sight that would forever be ingrained into the backs of your eyelids. 

Demobat carcasses littered the clearing, some of them still twitching. Dustin was hunched over a body, his shoulders shaking with barely contained sobs as he clutched at an achingly familiar leather jacket. As you got closer, you saw that it was Eddie, covered in blood and guts and god knows what else, blinking slowly up at Dustin. 

“No…” You breathed, collapsing to your knees next to the both of them. “What happened?” 

“He—he took on the bats all on his own, sacrificed himself to buy everyone more time!” Dustin cried, letting you slide in next to him. “I couldn’t stop him, I couldn’t—” The rest of the younger boy’s words were swallowed by a choked cry. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie mumbled weakly, his breath rattling painfully in his chest as he managed a small smile through the blood staining his teeth. “I need to—I need to tell you something…” 

“No, save your breath, okay? We’re gonna get you out of here, Eds, we’re gonna get you to a hospital—” Your voice was high with panic, hands pressing against his crimson soaked shirt as you attempted to stop him bleeding out right here and now. “You’re gonna be fine, Eddie, you hear me? Dustin, come on, we gotta get him to the trailer—” 

Dustin managed a nod through his own tears, hooking his hands under Eddie’s arms to try and get him up, but Eddie cried out in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I think I…just need a few seconds, man,” Eddie moaned, waving his hand in the air feebly. 

“Shit, okay, um, Dustin—go find something we can slide him on so we can drag him easier, or like, a rope or something—” 

He scrambled to his feet, nodding furiously as he set off around the clearing looking for what you needed. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go look!” 

“Hey, you look at me, Eddie. Look at me, keep your eyes open, okay?” You pleaded, shifting Eddie’s head into your lap and attempting to wipe the blood off his chin with the hem of your jacket with one hand while the other stayed pressed against his wounds. He just nodded clumsily, every gasping breath sounding more and more like a struggle as the seconds ticked by. “Rock and Roll Hall of Fame—we’re gonna go there, right? You, me and Dustin in your god awful van, cruising down the highway with the windows down, blasting music the whole time. Doesn’t that sound fun, Eddie?”

“So…fun,” He groaned, grimacing at the pressure of your palm against the gashes littering his torso. 

“I know it hurts, I’m so sorry, but this is the only way we’re gonna get you out of here,” You apologized profusely, stroking his hair as best you could with all the blood sticking to your skin. 

His blood. 

God, you wanted to sob at the sight of Eddie in so much pain, but you couldn’t let him see how fucking terrified you were. That wouldn’t be doing him any good. 

“Promise me—promise me you’ll take care of him,” He croaked, nodding his head towards Dustin, who was rifling through a giant pile of trash at the edge of the grass with a slew of curses that if you weren’t desperately trying to keep your boyfriend from bleeding out, you would’ve laughed at. “He needs…someone like you to—to look after him.” 

“You’re gonna be able to look after Dustin, okay? You’re gonna be there for him because you’re gonna live, we’re getting you out of here alive, you hear me, Eddie?” You insisted, shaking your head. Eddie inhaled another shuddering breath, one hand scrabbling at the pocket of his leather jacket frantically. “Hey, what are you doing? Stop moving, baby—please, just save your energy.” 

He didn’t listen, just fumbled around in his pocket until he procured his guitar pick necklace, tucking it into your palm with a wince. “Keep this for me. Just in case I—I don’t make it out.” 

“Stop saying that.” You whimpered, finally feeling the tears start to roll down your cheeks. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” He choked out, wrapping a weak hand around your wrist with an equally weak smile. “I love—I love you. Always.” 

“I love you too, Eddie, you know I do.” 

“I do know.” Eddie croaked, his eyes shining bright with unshed tears. You leaned down, pressing your lips against his even though all you could taste was your own tears and the metallic tang of his blood, pouring everything you had into the kiss, because this might be the last time that you’d ever be able to. When you pulled away, he was still smiling, although there was a single tear rolling down his face now. “That was—I liked that. A lot. Can you…can you get Henderson over here? Gotta tell him something…” 

You wanted to tell him no—that whatever he needed to tell Dustin could wait until after you got him to a hospital, but you could tell that with every labored breath Eddie took, he was inching closer to the end. “Yeah, okay. Dustin!” Dustin’s head popped out from behind another trailer, and you beckoned him over. 

“What? What’s happening?” He limped over as fast as he could, kneeling beside Eddie. “Hey, man, you’re doing so good! Just hang on a little longer, okay?” 

“You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?” Eddie murmured. 

Dustin shook his head with a tearful whimper, clapping a gentle hand on Eddie’s chest. “No, you’re gonna do that yourself, man.” 

“Nah, I’m—I’m not.” Eddie blinked slowly. “Say you’re gonna look after them. Say…it.” 

“I’m…I’m gonna look after them.” 

“Good. ‘Cause I’m actually gonna graduate,” He took another painfully slow, shuddering breath. “I think it’s my year, guys,” He gasped, smiling weakly up at the two of you. “I think it’s finally…my year.” You couldn’t help but let a strangled sob escape your lips, burying your face against his chest. “I love you, man.” 

“I love you too.” Dustin’s voice was thick with tears now, hands gripping Eddie’s tightly, like if he let go, so would Eddie. You just laid against him, listening to his heartbeat through your own crying as if you were trying to engrain it into yourself. 

Only a few more seconds went by before you couldn’t feel him breathing anymore, and when you finally managed to look at his face, his eyes were a million miles away. Glassy. 

Empty. 

There was a high pitched ringing in your ears, and then you heard a scream—a gut wrenching, voice cracking, heartbreaking, pitiful wail that you later realized had come from you. 

You honestly don’t know what happened after that. You remember clinging to Eddie’s body for god knows how long, not moving until someone pulled you off. You remember hugging Dustin for the longest time too, the both of you letting each other be a shoulder to cry on. But other than that, everything was a blur. 

Nothing mattered anymore, because Eddie was gone. 

-------

The plastic of Eddie’s guitar pick dug into your palm sharply as you clutched it to your chest, the chain cold against your skin. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the flowers in your hands as you made your way to his grave—an assortment of colorful blooms that contradicted the muted grays of the cemetery around you—because you feared if you actually laid eyes on the cold slab of granite that Eddie’s life had been reduced to, it would finally set in that he wasn’t here anymore. 

Ever since the day he died, all the way up until right now, it still didn’t seem real. How Eddie had sacrificed his life for a town that hated him, and would continue to hate him, not knowing that he saved them. 

“Hey, Eds. It’s me. Sorry I haven’t visited you till now, I’ve still been trying to make sense of it all. I’m not gonna lie, it’s been…really hard without you. I don’t know what to do anymore.” You said shakily, placing the flowers down on the damp grass in front of his grave.

“Dustin’s…coping the best he can. We all are. Been having him tucked under my wing ever since…y’know. I still wake up everyday thinking that you’ll be right beside me when I open my eyes, and when I do, it hurts so much that you’re not. But I know you’re keeping an eye on us from up there—if you even made it up there at all, Hellfire King.” You sighed, letting out a watery chuckle at your own weak attempt at a joke. “Who am I kidding, of course you made it. You were—are—the sweetest angel boy. My sweet angel boy.”

You inhaled a shaky breath, balling your hands into fists to keep them from trembling uncontrollably. “God, I love you, Eddie. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. Really wish we had more time together, but you just had to go and be the hero, didn’t you?” A tear escaped its way down your cheek with your words that you quickly wiped away with your sleeve. “You’re my hero, I hope you know that. You’ll always be my hero. I’m forever proud of you, and forever grateful for these past years we’ve spent madly in love together.” 

You finally managed to look up from your shoes to Eddie’s headstone, and what you saw almost made you sob again. Someone had propped a homemade collage of pictures against it, with Polaroids ranging from Hellfire Club meetings, to candid shots of Corroded Coffin at their gigs—you even spotted yourself with Eddie in a few of them, both of you beaming at each other with such love in your eyes. You didn’t even know when they’d been taken or who had taken them, but you looked…happy. 

You were half expecting to hear Eddie’s voice telling you that you were being way too sappy, and that you needed to get your shit together and stop crying over him. That all this sentimental shit was so not metal. 

But you couldn't help it. Eddie Munson was the love of your life—that epic love that you'd always dreamed of, and had somehow been lucky enough to find. 

“Miss you, Eds. Love you always.” You finished softly, kissing your fingertips and brushing them across the carving of Eddie’s name into the smooth granite. 

“You ready?” Dustin’s voice from behind you made you turn around, meeting his eyes with a sad smile. 

With one more glance back at Eddie’s final resting place, you made your way to the younger boy, ruffling his curly hair lovingly before slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, here we come!” 

“Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, here we come.” You echoed, squeezing him against your side a little tighter. The both of you slid into Eddie’s battered van, Dustin buckling up in the passenger seat while you settled in behind the wheel. 

As much as you hated the thing, it was one of the last things of Eddie’s that you couldn’t bear to part with. Because if you ignored the slightly musty smell of the carpeted interior and got past how you had to bang on the dashboard a few times in order to get the radio working, sometimes you swore you could still hear Eddie singing along to his heavy metal cassette tapes, picturing the sight of him smacking the steering wheel in time with the drums and holding out an imaginary microphone for you to join in too.

Those were the best times, now memories that you would forever cherish, even if it meant driving the death trap on wheels all across the country to go on that road trip that Eddie had been talking about. 

The cemetery grew smaller and smaller until it was nothing but a dot in the rearview mirror as you drove away, and you let your mind wander. Sure, it hurt like hell right now—Eddie not being by your side forever and always like you’d both planned. There was an Eddie Munson sized hole in your heart that would probably always hurt. But eventually, someday in the future, that hole would heal. 

It wouldn't be pretty, and it wouldn't be perfect, but you were going to take it day by day until you could live the life that Eddie had always wanted you to have. And in a way, he’d be with you, watching over you every step of the way. You hoped that he’d be as proud of you as you were of him. 

taglist

@milkiane @liltimmyst @wittiestrain184 @pastel-abyss-x

if your username is crossed out it means tumblr won't let me tag you :(

#why do i do this to myself #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #eddie munson angst #stranger things spoilers #st4 spoilers #stranger things season 4 spoilers #stranger things s4 #stranger things season 4 #dustin henderson #st4 #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn

[vanquishedhydra]

A Letter to the God I Used to Believe In

Dear God—

I was never able to find you in church. Ever. I looked, I searched, every week I went. But you—you. weren’t. there.

And I was—am angry. At you? At the church officials? I don’t know. Maybe at myself…for not being “good enough”, for not measuring up to your own impossible standards, for not “loving my neighbor” or “having enough faith”, and I… I hate it.

I hated it, still hate it. Because, just by being myself, I’m not good enough for you. Maybe I never was.

But that doesn’t matter, because I don’t care.

It felt wrong to take communion after three to four years of not having been in a church, it felt wrong to sing when I was losing my faith in a church pew, like a bucket with a hole in the bottom.

And you know what? It’s funny that I never found you in church.

Because I found you in a lot of other places. Like public school bathrooms, where you smelled like vanilla cookies, or in my bedroom, where we laughed at shadows after nightmares, or watching sunsets from the backseat of my mom’s car.

I found you in those things, the little moments. Sometimes in other people. But never where they said you would be. Never in a church building, for all their towering steeples and old wooden pews and stained glass windows.

I find you in the world outside, in other people, in the vastness of the universe. Because that is where I’ve been able to find you most often. Because that’s where I know you to be.

But that begs the question of whether you’re even there in the first place. I want to believe that you are, but I’m not sure.

That wasn’t a question, not really, and if it was, I don’t want to know the answer. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that everything is filtered through our own perceptions, and that just because someone tells us something, that doesn’t automatically make it true.

For all I know, and for all our hoping to the contrary, there is no paradise waiting on the other side. But maybe there’s no hell, either. Maybe there’s nothing, only the void of eternity.

We have a saying, don’t know if you’ve heard it: “if you stare at the void long enough the void stares back into you”. And maybe, we’re all doing that, staring into the void and wondering if the void is the universe, or you, or nothingness.

I think that perhaps, in some terrifying way, the void is us.

Maybe it’s saying that if you look back far enough, we are you and the Universe and Nothing and Everything, all at once, and we are human and we are the void, and everything is ultimately inside of something smaller, but that in the end, we are ourselves, and that is all we have to be.

But you never seemed to care about that, did you? Always searching for some reason to judge us, some unattainable standard of perfection for us—for yourself, even. One that you know deep down, you will never achieve because you are as flawed as any of us and yet you claw for the top of the mountain, just another rat in a maze, same as your creations.

But oh, we are made in your image, are we? Funny, that—the idea that you are just as bad off as us, perhaps even worse. We humans, small and insignificant as we are, ultimately have each other. But you? You don’t have anyone. You’re alone. You’re alone but you claim you’re not lonely, not desperate for understanding, for love, like a starving animal.

We both know you’re a liar. And that’s all you are. Maybe that’s all you’ve ever been. Empty promises, that’s all you give, and then expect me to follow after you, begging for scraps of your attention like some sort of dog.

I hate you. What kind of deity, what kind of person could view the sacrifice of their only child as something worthy of reverence, something worth being praised?

Congratulations, you are a child-murderer, and yet they laud you for it. I would’ve rather watched you writhe on that crossbeam and experience what you put your son through than him. He could’ve been happy. But you…you drove him, sent him to his demise, made him scared enough at the prospect of dying to sweat blood, all for your own sick amusement, and called it a blessing.

I hate you for it.

So, you can take your crosses and your blessings and your petty notions of sacrifice and love and care and shove them up your divine ass. I don’t want them, and I don’t want you. I’d say I’m sorry, but you’re not worth it. None of it was. This is my resignation letter from the horrible relationship that I was in with you, so feel free to wipe me off the face of the planet, you immature, selfish git.

I think I’ll be better off without you. Call it rebellion or sin or whatever you want, but I don’t care about what you think anymore. I refuse to let you and your tyrannical attitude dictate the course of my life, because I have felt like an inconvenience to you with every moment I spend with you, but I have come to realize that I am not. I am not an inconvenience because I am here for a reason, and I exist. I refuse to be your plaything, because I am a human being, and I am going to be better than anything you would have me be, even if I have spit in your face and walk away from you and everything I’ve grown up with to do it.

I hate you. And I’m glad I’ve never found you in church. Because you were never there in the first place.

Sincerely, but with much resentment,

—Me.

#ex christian #agnostic #christianity #christian faith #deconstruction #deconversion #letter to god

[jukemaid]

ok real talk i know it’s fun doing angst to the twins but there needs to be a hard line drawn in the obsession with making emmet insane and violent with grief. i’m taking a gamble putting this in the main tag but i believe it NEEDS to be said, so please feel free to block and disregard if it’s too upsetting. believe me i get it

i have ptsd. i know what it’s like to be so traumatized that it changes you, makes you angry and upset and prone to lashing out bc your brain can’t function properly anymore. i know exactly what it’s like to lose control of how you think and feel and process information and it’s terrifying. i’m all about respectful depictions of mental illness in my media and anyone who’s followed me for a while is well aware how passionate i am that people DO talk about it. write fic about it, make art about it. but have some goddamn tact for all of us out there who don’t have the luxury of moving on from one fanfic to the next.

think about us reading these things and having to deal with the reality that this is how you perceive us. we’ve suffered from immense trauma and continue to suffer in so many different ways all the time, and that’s not something we can escape from. we can’t push the tragedy away like you can. we get triggered, have flashbacks, have psychotic episodes, and have to manage those for our own safety and well-being. i have triggers that i’ve spent years working through so i can safely browse random shit online, but even then something could happen at any second that sends me spiraling. it happens. it has happened and will happen countless times for the rest of my life, but i’m fortunate enough to have had treatment for my ptsd and adjacent traumas.

there are many of us who aren’t as lucky to get that help and end up somewhere truly awful, and they’re the ones hurt the most. we are not inherently violent. we aren’t suddenly cruel and callous and do horrible things to people we love. we are permanently, irreparably injured and cast aside, disregarded, because we’re an ugly truth nobody likes to acknowledge. we exist just like the rest of you, have regular mundane lives, and fight every single day to keep our heads above water only to try to indulge in our favorite series’ and see ourselves painted as broken, violent things to pity, by the very people we thought we could trust with our vulnerability. and i’ve been burned before.

trauma victims are not concepts of fiction for you to play with. we aren’t tropes and tags to delight in for morbid satisfaction or borderline perversion for tragedy. i love angst and i love dark media exploring these exact topics and go out of my way to roll around in disturbing content and psychological horror. it’s cathartic, it tickles my psychology brain, and i know i'd love them with or without my own mental illnesses. with them however, i genuinely adore and appreciate grounded depictions of emmet working through his trauma, confronting the darkest parts of himself, and learning from them. that’s a struggle i understand. it’s unfathomably difficult and many of us don’t make it out. it’s ugly at times but it is all the same.

so here is what i present at the end of all this: have respect for topics of mental illness, trauma, and ptsd. have respect for the victims out there who enjoy the same things you do, the same genres, but find ourselves romanticized. fetishized. author intent does not matter because we’re real people whose largest wounds are being used as playthings in media we’re trying to enjoy with everyone else.

and if you continue to do so regardless (i’m not your dad you can do whatever you want), don’t be surprised by negative reactions. being quiet certainly hasn’t helped us this far.

#submas #trauma tw #ptsd tw #mental illness tw #and for the record i'm also on the spectrum but there's already been lots of posts about that #this is far more visceral #victims don't talk about these things for good reason

[marshmallowprotection]

Jumin is my favourite, but sometimes i'm scared he'd not like me when he first sees me.

I'm chubby and very much not conventionally attractive. I'm very insecure but I try to not let it show by boasting about myself and being sometimes annoyingly self absorbed (much like someone else *cough*).

So like, when you go to Jumins house during his route, I'd be genuinely terrified. Kinda feeling like I'd deceived him? If that makes sense? Like he'd expect someone absolutely stunning, but then it's "just me?" LMAO idk if this makes any sense at all.

Listen, honey. I want to know that it’s important to never detract from yourself in any way because you don’t fit the way that “society” wants people to look. I also want you to know if you haven’t heard it today, you’re beautiful just the way you are. I hope that you know this. It’s good to speak kindly about yourself because that’s healthier than calling yourself trash. It’s okay to be torn sometimes, but it’s not healthy to look at yourself and think you’re ugly or unworthy of love. I used to get down on myself like that a lot when I was younger and as I am now, I can tell you this.

The only thing that matters is what you think of yourself. Sure, it can be tough to learn how to love yourself, and it’s okay if that takes time. But, the people who’re worth loving will look at you with stars in their eyes no matter what. You are very much worth loving no matter who you are. You are worth loving whether you are chubby or skinny or whatever word you want to use to describe your body type! I know that’s tough to hear because we always hear that. We always hear that we are worth love no matter but society continues to beat us down.

Before I got sick, I lived all my life as a fat girl. Fat’s not an ugly word, by the way, but I know that it can be uncomfortable for some people to use to talk about themselves because it might’ve been used against them in a negative way, so I won’t ever use that to describe someone else. Being chubby allows you to see a lot of ignorant and cruel people who think less of you and treat you like shit for it. It’s not right nor is it okay. That hurt comes with you no matter if you lose weight or not.

I always felt like I wasn’t beautiful or worth loving, either. We spend so much time looking at people who are smaller than us in the media that we internalize shame and self-loathing and worse because we don’t “look right”. I can honestly remember thinking what you think right here, that my being so different from the in-game MC sprite felt like if they knew what I really looked like, that none of the cast would love me the same way.

It might feel that way sometimes.

You look at MC in the game and you pause, you wonder, and you fear. You think that they love the slender avatar with straight hair, pale skin, and whatever else you notice.

But, that’s just the thing. The MC is just an image. They’re just an insert into the game for the artists to draw. They use a generalized appearance to fit the bill but the MC is meant for us to place ourselves there... not to imagine the MC is their ideal aesthetic. It’s not the face-claim they love, it’s the player. It’s you. No matter who you are, if you are the MC, they love you, they love everything about you. It is a fact. It’s you the RFA loves. Be it chubby, skinny, tall, short, curly hair, locs, straight hair, brown eyes, blue eyes, etc, everything that makes us who we are is loved.

So, here’s the fact about Jumin Han for you. You’re you. You’re the charming and delightful person who has been engaging with him from day one. You’re kind, bright, and wonderful. He loves the sound of your voice and he thinks it’s a relief when he sees your name light up on his cell phone. Your personality is the first thing he notices and he enjoys you. He enjoys being close to you this way because there’s never been someone like you in his life before. Someone who lights his fire to talk and be himself.

It’s a breath of fresh air for Jumin.

He has spent his entire life being picked apart by people for the way that he looks. He is what many would call conventionally attractive. He has been bothered because of that many times throughout his life. People would try to coerce him into doing things that he didn't want to do, and they would make comments about him in earshot. He's been sexually harassed more times than he can count on his hand but he never talks about it. He doesn't make a big deal about it because deep down he accepted that there was nothing he could do about it.

He knew that his father was going to continue to push people onto him no matter how much he said he wasn't interested. He pushed it off as much as he could even though his father continued to try and force that on him. It's hard for him because he does want a family relationship with his father but his father doesn't treat him the right way. He never has. He holds out on that but it never works out in the long run.

Because of this experience that he’s been through, he never trusts people on the surface. He doesn't see people for their looks. He's not looking at that because he knows people are looking at him like that. He hates that a lot. He hates the fact that people see him and project whatever they want onto him because of the way he looks. He's looking at the way that they act and the way that they treat others around them. He judges people for what's underneath the surface.

In his opinion, the only people that are ugly are those that have cruel hearts and minds. Kind people with open hearts are the most beautiful, and you, my dear, are that beauty.

This isn't to say that he doesn't notice the way that people look, it's just that he doesn't think about it. He doesn't want to judge people for their looks now or ever. He doesn't want to be judged for the way that he looks, either. In some ways, he can understand your experience and in other ways he can't. It's very interesting how pretty privilege can find common ground with the exact opposite situation. It’s in that way of people judging you for the way you look, but treating you one way or the other. Being judged for something out of your control isn’t an okay thing.

It’s that area that he could find enough mutual frustrating to learn more about the differences and why it’s such a problem all around, for sure. I can see him really putting in the time and effort to get people onto this. Society at large needs to be told that ridiculous standards and treatment of people have got to go. He knows his experience is different from yours and he’s benefited in ways that you haven’t been able to. So, trust him to want to learn and understand. The first second he hears of someone comparing his looks and yours, he’s ripping the press for it as soon as possible.

Jumin doesn’t stand for slander or fatphobia.

When you come into his apartment, kind, compassionate, willing to help him at the worst moment of his life, he’s so... relieved. He’s surprised, but he’s lost in your eyes. He didn’t know what you looked like, nor did he build an image of you in his head. He only listened to your voice and reminded himself that he would see you at the party for the first time. But, seeing you... seeing you in front of him after these long days of listening to your voice comfort him...?

His heart... feels perplexed. It’s warm. He’s still stressed out of his mind, afraid of losing Elizabeth, but you... your sudden arrival. This feels nice. “Oh, it’s you,” he would say with surprise on his face. “I didn’t expect to be face to face so soon. I am... actually pleased to see you even if I’m unsure of why you’re here knowing the hacker is still at large. You’re welcome here, I hope that your trip was safe to arrive here.”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t budge or show signs of disgust like you might fear so deep down inside. He looks relieved. He looks almost happy if it weren’t for the issues he’s trying to fight against with Sarah and Glam. He offers you his hand, warm and inviting, and even if your insecurities are buzzing, you can make no mistake here. You know he’s excited to see you. It might take some time for him to express how beautiful he thinks you are, how lovely you are to him, but he’s already feeling charmed by you. It’s only a matter of time.

You are you.

You are his MC.

He loves you for that.

So, when you look in the mirror and fear any rolls, wrinkles, or stretchmarks, remember this fact. Jumin Han will always look at you with love in his eyes no matter what. You are beauty incarnate in his eyes. He won’t hesitate to say that when you open your heart to him. If you tell him you’re insecure, he will find all the ways to reassure and comfort you otherwise. He treasures you, dear Anon. Never ever forget that fact. 

“You are my partner,” he’d say with his lips pressed to yours. An intense look burning in his deep, dark eyes. “I love you. I love you. I never want you to speak ill of your body when it’s beautiful. You are the most lovely person I’ve ever met, so holding your body in my hands... feels like a glimpse of Heaven.”

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #mysme #anon #mysticmessenger #mm #jumin han #han jumin #character analysis

[kaiwewi]

I absolutely love your writing style- I just found your blog recently and it’s definitely one of the best whump hordes I have ever encountered. Your wording is just 🤌🤌🤌🤌 spicy meatball

I was wondering if I could request s’more sadistic hero whumper? I love the unhinged hero, maybe even some [villain] death if you’re feelin’ spicy.

-🪶

Aww, thank you anon!! You're too kind 💕 I hope you'll like this. But if it's not sadistic or unhinged enough, always feel free to send another ask 😉

Game's Over

tw: whump, mentions of blood and injuries, implied character death

Synopsis: the hero has one rule. The villain is about to learn what happens to those who disappoint.

“I really thought you could be the one.” The hero's shoulders slump. “But you’re just as disappointing as the other villains. Why does everyone always let me down? I'm really not asking much, am I?”

What’s that supposed to mean? What does the hero look so damned unhappy about, when the hero isn’t the one with the broken nose and the dislocated shoulder? When the hero isn’t the one trying to blink the tears from their vision, isn’t the one retreating on shaking legs towards a dead end.

“What are you talking about?”

The hero crowds them against the ledge of the rooftop. The place is inaccessible to the general public, so whoever planned this building saw no need for the parapet to reach up beyond knee-high. It’s a harrowing oversight. – But apparently, flying superheroes whisking hapless villains away to the top of your building isn’t a scenario covered in Architectural Studies. Well, it should be.

“Remind me,” the hero says, “what was the first thing I said to you?”

The hero’s hand shoots out and grabs them by the collar. They instinctively swat at it with their uninjured arm, but the grip is unyielding.

Stupid super-strength. Isn’t it unfair the hero has both flight and raw power at their disposal? How were they supposed to go up against that? – Of course they’d lose!

They can hardly breathe. The taste of iron makes bile surge up their throat.

“You- You said” – they swallow – “to never bore you.”

“My one and only rule,” the hero says reprovingly. “If you’d just followed that, everything would be fine. That shouldn’t be too difficult, even for a villain, wouldn’t you agree?”

They remain silent. What are they supposed to say here? – ‘Sorry for being such a lame, unpowered opponent that I wasn’t worth your time?’ – Their nose keeps dripping blood all over their beloved costume; everything hurts; their gear is broken; and they’ve lost. Shouldn’t that be enough? Is it really necessary to further humiliate them?

The hero huffs out a laugh, and it’s not one of those good-natured TV-interview chuckles that gained them so many squealing fans. No, this one is sinister. The hero slowly extends the arm that’s holding them in place.

The world tilts and they yelp. “Wait!”

They are no longer swatting at the hero’s arm; they’re sinking their nails into it for dear life.

There is nothing they can do to steady themself – their calves are already flush against the parapet, they’re frighteningly off balance, and the hero’s grasp is currently the only thing keeping them from falling.

“I get it!” They don’t, but it hardly matters. “I’m sorry! Okay? I’m sorry. Really. You don’t have to- to… Just pull me back up, yes?”

They’d thought the flight up here was bad; but oh, were they wrong. – The discrepancy between the solid floor beneath their feet and the abyss the rest of them is dangling above makes this so much more terrifying. They were at the hero’s mercy before, but this… this feels like taunting. Like the hero is rubbing it in.

The hero doesn’t move.

“Do you know what happens to boring toys?” they ask.

What the hell? The hero can’t be serious. No. They must be joking, mocking. Gloating. It’s such an unheroic thing; outright villainous. But that’s all it is. It has to be. Because the hero can’t possibly be contemplating—

“Boring toys,” the hero says, “get replaced.”

They shake their head, frantic. “You’re joking. You wouldn’t.” But the hero doesn’t look like they’re joking. “People aren’t toys. They’re… they’re people. – I’m a person. Not a very good one maybe, but…”

The hero’s mouth twists into something entirely unreadable. A sneer? A pout? – It’s not a smile and it’s not a frown. Yet, somehow, it is both. – The hero hums and the look in those eyes is bittersweet in a way that claws at their insides more than their ill-advised glimpse to the street twenty storeys below.

The hero clicks their tongue. “Game's over.”

Why does the hero act like whether they'll live or die is a fucking game? They're a human being. And yes, maybe they kind of suck, but they have value. They might be a villain, but that's not all they are.

They have parent they don't always see eye to eye with, but they love each other anyway; friends who always tease them about that crush they have on the local news reporter. Their cat's thrown so many glasses of the table that they nicknamed her Havoc and finally bought a carpet. They like spicy food and binge-watching series on Netflix and going for walks through the park on sunny afternoons.

This is their life, and it's precious.

“Please,” they beg, “I’m a person! I’m not a toy. So please…”

“What you are” – the hero sighs, and the cock of their head is a wicked thing – “is a bore.”

No. God, please. No!

They’ll do better! They’ll be more entertaining. Funny even! If the hero gives them another chance, they won’t disappoint. They’ll do anything, be anything. It’s okay; they can be a toy. They’ll be the best toy there is. If that’s what it takes to survive—

A myriad of promises lies bitter and acrid on the tip of their tongue, waiting to spill.

Just as they open their mouth…

The hero drops them.

———

For my other stories, visit my [MASTERLIST] ♥

#snippet #writing snippet #writing #my writing #creative writing #fiction #writeblr #writers #writers on Tumblr #heroes and villains #whump #hero whumper #villain whumpee #hero #evil hero #villain #character death implied #whump community #hero x villain community

[dumdumsun]

To Nightfall

A/N: Awe, man... The last Harlan chapter :(

Warnings: character death (RIP Harlan), mentions of death

Word Count: 2452

—————————————

Chapter 12: The Truth of the Matter

“It was a kamikaze mission.” Pogo explained to Five, who was sipping from a drink he was given. “He was preparing the Sparrow children with the expectation they might never return. That’s why I gave the children those pills, to keep them safe from him.”

(Y/N) lowered her glass from her lips and sat up beside Tammy. “Wait. The pills they force him to take with his meals?”

“Precisely.” Pogo nodded at her.

“Well,” Five sighed. “Our druggie brother just got him sober. Go figure.”

“Then Project Oblivion is starting again,” He pointed between the two teens. “And you are all in danger.”

Five threw back the rest of his drink with a cringe before standing from his seat. “Then I should probably get that ink. Complete the loop.”

(Y/N) stood as well. “Are you sure, Five? I-It’s what your older self did. I thought you were trying not to be like him.”

“It’s destiny, Starlight.” He slipped off his suit jacket. “I don’t think it cares whether I’m sure or not.”

“Bitch is cruel, ain’t she?” Tammy grabbed Pogo’s equipment, standing from the sofa and handing it off to him. Five took a seat in her place and reached up to his tie, but (Y/N) stood before him to loosen it herself.

“Well then, let’s get started.”

Five looked up at his love, who was already staring at him as she slipped his tie off him and unbuttoned his suit vest. He knew the look she was giving him. She was worried out of her mind, not because of the tattoo, but because of what the tattoo would lead to. He told her about the condition his older self was in before he died and it struck her to her core. The thought of Five dying alone in the Commission, the same place he tried to escape for so long, was terrifying to her. If he got that ink in his skin now, when would he lose the arm? When will he flee to the Commission, and when will his body start failing him?

The questions running through her mind were halted when Five gently grasped her wrist in his hand, gently rubbing her skin with his thumb. He was trying to communicate with his own eyes that even if he didn’t entirely know what he was doing, he wanted her there with him. So, (Y/N) nodded and backed away, allowing him to lay across the sofa. She sat down beside his head and gently ran her finger along his cheekbone without much thought.

Pogo laid his equipment out and smiled at the young girl as Five opened his shirt. “It’s nice to see you again, (Y/N).” He gently spoke, earning a small smile in return. “Really nice.”

And with that, he set the needle onto Five’s skin.

-------------------------------------------------

At the drive-in, Harlan was leading Viktor away from the snack shop and a few feet from the two cars. “You’re still using the sounds that you can hear, like the rain or the wind or the sound of your own breathing.” He explained. “You have to learn to use sounds that you can’t.”

“Yeah, how am I supposed to do that?” Viktor sighed.

“When you left, I realized I had this… thing inside me. This… power. I hoped I could use it for something good. Something… beautiful. I didn’t know what it was. I… I called it marigold.”

“Like the flower?”

Harlan nodded. “You know how bees find pollen?” At the shake of Viktor’s head, he continued. “Bees have a positive charge, flowers have a negative one. The bees use the hairs on their body to detect the interaction between the fields. They can hear the pollen.”

“Okay.” Viktor scoffed in frustration. “What are you saying?”

“You need to stop listening with your ears,” Harlan took his headphones off his neck and walked up to Viktor, handing them over. As he put them on, Harlan took out his tape player and held it out. “Listen with your marigold. And find mine.”

The two grasped hands, Viktor closing his eyes to listen deeply. Soon, their combined energy began to glow brighter than before. Over the wall, on the other side of the screen, Allison sat on one of the swings of the empty children’s playground. The chains of the empty swing beside her rattled with the wind swaying it slightly. Just as she flicked the ash of her cigarette, a voice spoke to her.

“I always thought you hated playgrounds. Every time we passed by one, you always just looked the other way.”

Allison, without even turning her head, knew it was Raymond on the now occupied swing, just the way she left him in 1963. She softly smiled at his words, happy he was here. “Our father never let us play on them because he said they were juvenile… Claire loved them. Especially the swings.”

Ray’s smile filled itself with pity.

“I wish you could have met her.”

“I’m sure we probably would have gotten along just fine.” He assured her. Allison chuckled.

“More than fine. She would’ve loved you. The way that I loved you… The way I still love you…”

“I love you, too, baby. And you know I’m always gon’ love you.”

She painfully closed her eyes. “Please, stop.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not real. The Ray I know died nine years ago at the age of eight-two. I looked it up.”

He brightly smiled. “Well, I hope I had a good life.”

She smiled back at him. “Not as good as you deserved.”

“So, what? You seeing things?”

She shakily inhaled. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“We all go a little crazy from time to time. Maybe that’s what stress’ll do to a person.”

“You don’t understand.” Allison choked out, not even facing him anymore, not able to look him in his eyes. “I can’t get back to you or Claire. You’re both gone forever, and it’s like you were never real. Were you ever real…?”

“We were here. You know it.” Ray nodded. “And as long as you’re alive, we’re gon’ keep on living in there…” He pointed to his head and hers, then placed a hand over his heart. “...and in here. No matter when or where you are, we’re both always gon’ be with you, so you have got to do what it takes to survive this. Promise me.”

Allison’s heart broke even more when she turned her head to the empty swing, its chains still rattling. Her eyes darkened along with the sky as her mind whirled with the wind. She couldn’t tell if the goosebumps pricking her skin were from aftershocks of her hallucination or the dropping temperature around her.

When she could see her breath in the air, she looked up to the cloud-cluttered mass above her, terror striking her like the lightning bolts that scattered across the sky. There was a storm brewing.

“Oh, god.” She shot up from the swing. “Viktor.”

Her feet quickly took her back to where she had left the two, her stomach dropping and churning at the sight of Harlan and Viktor suspended in the air, their lightening-like energy connected between them. The swirling force field around them was what kept her from becoming a casualty in the interaction.

“Viktor!” She called out. “Viktor!”

Allison’s eyes never left them as she hurriedly made her way back to the cars, which were both blaring with their alarms. A flash of lightning erupted, the projector at the snack shop blinking on and casting their silhouettes onto the screen. She watched in horror as Harlan’s power grew bigger and brighter until it blasted towards Viktor, who groaned in pain. Beautiful golden wisps emitted from Harlan as he glowed brighter. The golden particles given to him, that Viktor thought he had taken back, traveled through his body until they shot out his mouth, ripping a scream from Harlan as they did.

The particles glided through the air before flying into Viktor’s mouth. Once each and every particle was back where it belonged, his power rumbled and then burst, the wave of energy throwing them and Allison back. The light of the projector went off just as Harlan and Viktor dropped to the ground. As the sky cleared again, Allison panted and gasped for air, lifting herself from where she had fallen.

Immediately, she spotted her brother and ran over to him, lifting him into her lap. “Hey, hey. You okay?” She whispered. “Hey.”

Viktor blinked the blear out of his eyes to see Harlan laying on the ground, staring down at his shaking hands. “Harlan?” He quietly called.

“It’s gone.” He smiled as he lifted himself up with a chuckle. “We did it.”

Viktor tiredly smiled at him, allowing sleep to take over his consciousness finally.

-------------------------------------------------

Below the first floor of the mansion, (Y/N) had followed her robot maid down the steps that led to the luggage room. Grace either didn’t notice or didn’t care, for she continued onwards. (Y/N) remained quiet as she let Grace lead her, but soon, she didn’t need any guidance when she felt a tug. It was as if something was calling to her, urging her in a certain direction. Her exhale of breath stuttered as she followed the pull to the left, completely missing the bright red glowing orb on the right.

(Y/N) ran in front of Grace as the tug pulled her harsher. She opened the metal door they reached and walked inside, holding it open for the robot to slip through before letting it close. Her shoulders slumped as the two came upon another door, but this one had a vertical glass window, accessing more of a view inside the room the door closed off. (Y/N) let out a breath as she slowly approached the window, placing her hand on it as if to make contact with what was inside.

“Oh.” (Y/N) whispered and smiled in awe at the haunting white that stared back at her. “Hi…”

-------------------------------------------------

Allison turned her head when she heard the opening and closing of the snack shop door, but turned back around when she caught the sight of Harlan in her peripheral, wrapped up in a blanket. “How’s Viktor?” She asked without looking at him, flicking the ash from her cigarette.

“Sleeping. He’s exhausted.” Harlan answered. “Thank you for before, letting us finish what we needed to do.”

“He’s my brother. I would do anything for him.”

He took a few steps forward. “What happens to me now?”

“You go home. And we clean up your mess.”

“With the Sparrows.”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

Harlan turned to go back inside, but something was eating at him. At first, he thought that Allison was rude to him with no excuse, but he had to remind himself that he had hurt her and her family. And he couldn’t take the thought of not clearing the air before he never saw her again. So, he turned back around. “It’s okay. I know why you don’t like me.”

Allison turned to face him, jaw clenched. “I don’t like the hold you have on my brother-”

“It’s because of what I did. To all of you.”

She furrowed her brows. “And what is that, exactly?”

He raised his brows, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. “I… I… thought Viktor told you. About the mothers.”

Her eyes burned in realization. “It was you.” She muttered. “You’re the reason they’re all dead.”

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt them.”

“You’re the reason Claire’s dead.” She threw her cigarette to the side and stalked up to him.

“My powers spilled over. Got in my head-”

“And the reason the whole world is ending!”

Harlan fearfully looked up at her, knowing that his reasonings would fall on deaf ears. “I… I couldn’t stop myself.”

Allison pointed towards the door with wide eyes. “Viktor knew.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I didn’t want-”

“Sorry is what you say when you spill a glass of milk, not obliterate somebody’s child!”

He watched as her gaze fell to the ground, no doubt a whirlwind of emotions swirling through her right now. Harlan knew what Viktor meant now. The consequences of what he did were standing right before him.

“What are you gonna do?”

Allison inhaled and looked him in the eyes with nothing but hatred and danger.

In the woods, Five and (Y/N) exited the RV hand-in-hand, Pogo and Tammy following them out. “I wish you two the best of luck.”

Five nodded. “Thanks for the help.”

“Do whatever it takes to save your family and the Sparrows. Reginald intends to spare no one from his plans.” He stepped onto the ground, walking up to (Y/N). She gently smiled at him as he brought her into a hug. “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

“Goodbye, Pogo. It was nice to see you again, too.”

The two pulled away from each other before she took hold of Five’s hand again. Pogo gave them one last look before he and Tammy returned to their home, closing the door behind them. (Y/N) turned to the motorcycle they had arrived on.

“I wanna drive the motorcycle this time.”

“You know, now that I know where we are, I can just blink us back-”

“I wanna drive it.”

-------------------------------------------------

The city’s source of light simply came from the glow of the buildings inhabiting it, substituting for the sun that had set a couple hours ago. Standing outside their home was the Sparrow Academy. Beside the curb was Ben, Fei, (Y/N) and Reginald, awaiting what was promised to them.

A Hotel Obsidian car pulled up and parked beside them, Allison exiting from it. She made her way to the trunk of the car as Ben and Fei met her there. She opened the trunk, staring Ben down. “You got what you wanted. This is done.”

Ben nodded, looking down at Harlan's corpse stuffed inside. He and Reginald shared a nod before the latter walked back inside the house. Allison brushed past Ben, made a point to ignore (Y/N), and walked towards the entrance of the mansion.

Standing there on the steps was Sloane, standing beside Luther, now decked out in Marcus’s red suit. He looked at Allison with so much confliction, like he couldn’t believe who she was. Like he didn’t know her anymore. Allison only scoffed and walked past them to enter the house.

Ben closed the trunk of the car and walked up to (Y/N), gently grabbing her by the elbow and guiding her back inside. Her eyes didn’t leave the car until the front door shut behind her.

—————————————

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#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #tua #tua fanfic #tua x reader #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #number five x reader #five x reader #of starlight #and dusk #to nightfall

[verysickofthisshit]

i am very Tired of people ignoring how severely traumatized vi is. like ok i get it jinx is a lot more noticeably Not Okay, but r we seriously going to look at jinx say “omg her childhood was so traumatic” when vi took the brunt of a lot of their traumatic experiences in her earlier childhood?? 

vi at like 10-12 led her little sister on a bridge that was on fire and filled with enforcers and dead bodies to go find their parents only to stumble across her mothers fucking corpse (some ppl think that she witnessed their deaths but idk). bc their parents were now dead vi immediately assumed a parental role which caused her to lose more of her already stolen childhood in an effort to protect jinx. 

she held a lot of responsibility for a teenager and was assigned leader/parent to her siblings. most of what she did was to help her family and community. ive seen some people say that she kind of imprinted onto vander when they first see him meaning she adopted the kind of personality he had then. shes brash and blunt and willing to take all different manners of pain to protect her family. i would bet that theres a sense of fear of losing them because she lost her parents. vi feels guilty for really anything because she feels that leadership and responsibility with all of her friends and family. 

so not only is she putting herself in physical danger to protect her family but she also torments herself if she fails or slips up. then in a desperate effort to save her father figure who raised her and taught her and saved her, she finds out her little sister accidentally just killed their entire adoptive family. so she lashes out in one of the few ways she knows how which is physically. is it okay?? fuck no. but understandable? yeah. she literally lost everything in the span of minutes. then she turns around and finds out that the reason for all of this is her little sister who came along even though she was told not to. 

so its a matter of loss of control and a loss of family and crushing guilt because she failed to protect them. i think something that really stands out too is how in ep 1 or 2 vander gives vi the whole leadership lecture “you say light a fire they show up with oil” which is essentially “you are responsible for the outcomes of your leadership decisions” the whole effort to save vander was coordinated by vi. this rescue mission ended with her and powder being the sole survivors of her family. 

then she’s thrown into prison at 14-17 until she is in her early or mid twenties. in stillwater she is physically and psychologically abused for six straight years. her sole outlet for all her guilt and grief is anger. so she builds a reputation for herself knowing there is no end of her sentence in sight and with the crushing fear that her little sister, who she hurt and abandoned (in her mind), is dead. she brutalizes other inmates and lands herself into solitary confinement often. 

then when she’s broken out she experiences a sort of culture shock with how much the lanes have changed, the shimmer problem worsening, and the way the last drop has gone from welcoming and gruff to barred off and threatening. she expresses herself in her go to coping mechanism which is beat the shit out of other people and getting the shit beat out of herself. she learns that her little sister is still alive but is working for silco. 

there HAS to be a level of betrayal and anger in that. i don’t believe it overrides her sheer relief and hope at the knowledge of her little sister being alive, but i believe its still very much there. silco cultivated the environment in which their family was slaughtered, took over their childhood home, and corrupted the undercity with swathes of shimmer. 

i looked away from my screen and stopped hyperfocusing uh.. im gonna finish this off the best i can but im stupid and i hear every noise now.

moving beyond into act 3 where do we even fucking start. okay, her sister shooting her?? terrifying. it is very hard for vi to understand just how much jinx has changed over the years. then believing to witness her death, you can see in the council scene just how apathetic she has become. 

the tea party scene and leadup i think are the scariest scenes in the show. jinx is clearly drugged out from her slow and borderline slurring voice. she puts vi in a very vulnerable situation that demands full trust from her, while she does get that in jinx’s eyes (from my opinion) vi hasn’t fully passed the test. vi is literally forced to choose between killing caitlyn (someone she has become very emotionally attached too) and leaving jinx (her little sister who she thought was dead for years). this is so traumatic i cannot believe ppl are glossing over this. my brain is loud and i cant think anymore but like... so tired of ppl not really paying attention and seeing how traumatized so many of the characters are and instead focusing so heavily on jinx. yes jinx is the heart of the show, yes she is incredible mental illness representation, yes she is a fantastic fucking character, but she is not the only one.

#vi #arcane #shes so traumatized its not even funny #character study #i guess #i just lost my fucking mind into the post editor or whatever tf u call it in a hyperfocused state and woke up with this shit

[lilyoffandoms]

I started writing a few months ago around May

And before revealing anything I want to say that I understand the effect of AI on the creative field.

The thing is starting out I didn't have any idea if the story I constructed was good and I would be in a desperate need of feedback so I used AI for it but I never used it to write stuff just for feedbacks and how to improve etc. As of lately I have been carrying this guilt that in a way I have wronged someone. I know my loneliness and incompetence doesn't excuse what I have done but is there any way I can redeem myself because I do feel really bad and I don't support AI generated stuff and I never used it in my work.

I just feel so guilty.

First off, congratulations on starting your writing journey! That’s an exciting and terrifying step. I’m proud of you for doing it. That’s amazing of you!! 🎉

To address the rest:

Guilt and redemption are tricky words with a ton of religious baggage behind them. I’m not one to say there is need for redemption because one is guilty of doing something. We all do stuff. As much as I despise AI, I would probably not say one should be called ‘guilty of using it.’ To be guilty, I believe, you must have committed some crime (which you haven’t) or broken some code of conduct (which is often morality based and my morals are not everyone’s morals). Plus, who am I to make that accusation?

Yes, one can use AI but it’s not a crime to use a tool that is made legally available and the usage of which is legally allowed. Do I think the AI collection of learning sources is flawed and illegal? Yes, I do. Do I think everyone that uses AI is complicit in those crimes? No, I do not. Do I believe we are morally obligated to do better by artists? Yes, I do!

I think there are laws, like the preservation of copyright and ownership laws, that should be applied to AI that are not currently applied. But laws are always slow to catch up in these cases.

I think we, as a collective, need to work harder to preserve the humanity and soul of art. And I think that starts by not using AI until there are laws in place that protect the human creatives over protecting the technology and money grabbing corporations profiting off the backs of artists.

It’s a beautiful thing to create and that’s being stolen from us by AI generated content that gets slapped with the label ‘art’. Art is losing its soul. Artists are losing their livelihoods because of this trash.

And it seems to me like you maybe share this stance. Otherwise, I don’t think you’d have written your fics entirely of your own nor do I think you’d feel the guilt you do. Please don’t feel guilt over using something.

Forgive yourself. You’ve clearly come to recognize the fault in using AI generated content as it currently stands and that’s what I think matters the most. Don’t continue to beat yourself up over something in the past you can’t change. You’ve grown, you realize the mistake you maybe made (and I don’t know if it was a mistake tbh), and you are still here standing, and hopefully, writing. That’s an incredible accomplishment!

Forgive yourself and focus on where your choices have brought you because that’s a beautiful thing.

On a personal note, the things I share here about AI generated content are mostly opinions I have formed in talking with artists and writers (and being one myself) and diving deep into this issue. However, they are mostly just my opinions. Just like, anyone else that says the opposite of me, they are mostly opinions.

Now some of it isn’t opinion. The theft of art and the outcome of that theft is very much fact. As are the lack of laws surrounding this issue. I’ve just taken those facts and formed my opinion on what we should be doing as a society to do better by artists and writers.

One final note, it’s alright to feel guilt, it’s okay. I am sorry you feel it. I know that weight but please know it’s okay. I am also sorry you are lonely. I know that emptiness but please know you can always come here when you feel that, if you’d like. I’ll try and make it feel less lonely.

I am always happy to read anything you put out into the world whether to provide feedback or just to reblog and gush. Because y’all writers are amazing creatures that deserve all the love!!

YOU deserve all the love and support!

#ask #anon ask