#Strategic Brand Handling

[doumadono]

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST PRO HERO DABI & INTERN!BAKUGO • A warm welcome - pro hero!Dabi - headcanons NSFW

Touya Todoroki's hero name is Dabi, no question.

As a pro hero, he takes being a total shithead to a whole new level, being a jerk with a hero license and flashy gear that screams "I'm better than you."

He's the biggest fuckboy on the planet, and as a pro hero, he takes it to a whole new level. He's bedded countless models, actresses, and even fellow pro heroes, and he's far from finished.

He has a custom-painted motorcycle with blue flames, because anything less wouldn't be cool enough for him.

Piercings and tattoos everywhere; he has his ears, nose, tongue, nipples and dick pierced, and his sleeves are adorned with huge tattoos, so are his back and neck.

He's the ultimate PR nightmare, and his publicists practically live in their offices, working overtime to clean up after his never-ending chaos. Sure, he fights villains and saves lives, but his brand thrives on scandals, keeping his publicists working overtime to handle the fallout.

Despite his scandalous reputation, he's a smooth talker when it comes to the media and public, effortlessly playing the role of the good guy when it suits him.

A certified narcissist, he loves to pull the "do you know who I am?" and "my father will sue you" cards.

When it comes to drinking, he's in a league of his own. This man can and will outdrink anyone, even Endeavor, leaving no doubt about his legendary tolerance.

Dabi's strategic mind and tactical prowess make him a formidable force on the battlefield, earning him the respect of both allies and adversaries.

Pro Hero Dabi is known for his unconventional methods, often bending or breaking the rules to achieve his goals. His willingness to operate in morally gray areas sets him apart from traditional heroes.

Despite his cocky and rebellious attitude, Dabi possesses a keen intellect and a deep understanding of human nature, allowing him to manipulate situations to his advantage.

Despite his outward bravado, Dabi is fiercely loyal to those he considers allies, willing to go to great lengths to protect and support them, even if it means defying conventional hero ethics.

Dabi holds an unbreakable bond with his younger brother, Natsuo, whom he regards as his closest and most trusted friend.

After meeting you, his current girlfriend, Pro Hero Dabi has undergone a significant personal transformation. Your presence in his life has prompted him to adopt a more mature and responsible demeanor. His commitment to you has motivated him to address his tendencies towards excessive drinking and flirting with others, as he strives to be the best partner he can be for you.

Those close to Dabi have noticed a significant change in his behavior, witnessing his earnest efforts to improve himself for the sake of your relationship. His commitment to personal growth and positive change reflects his deep investment in you and your future together.

In his free time, Dabi enjoys playing the electric guitar, and he takes particular delight in performing on his customized Fender Stratocaster.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Arrogant Ex-Husband - Chapt 1

Character: Mob!Bucky x Model!Reader

Summary: In a strategic alliance marriage arranged for political gain, reluctant bride Y/N, dreaming of a modeling career, finds herself unwillingly wed to James 'Bucky' Barnes, a reluctant groom.

Words Count: 1,816

Series Masterlist with Prologue and Moodboard

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Y/N stared out the tinted car window, the city lights flickering in the distance. Her father, a seasoned politician, clenched his jaw as he spoke into the phone, his voice seething with anger.

"Unbelievable! I trusted you, Rick. Trusted you with our family's reputation, and this is how you repay me?" Y/N's father barked into the phone, the tension in the car palpable.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat, stealing glances at her father's furrowed brow and the visible strain in his eyes.

The weight of the scandal involving her step-brother was evident (private video got leaked), threatening to unravel her family's name and her father's political career.

"What do you mean you can't contain this? I need a solution, not excuses," her father continued, tightening his grip on the phone.

The distant hum of the city echoed the frustration in the car. Y/N caught snippets of her father's conversation as he navigated the chaotic political landscape.

"You know what's at stake here, Rick. My candidacy, the family legacy — everything! I can't have this scandal tarnishing our name."

The car sped through the city streets, the outside world oblivious to the turmoil within the vehicle. Y/N's father listened intently to the voice on the other end, occasionally gritting his teeth.

"Handle it discreetly? No, that ship has sailed, Rick. You need to fix this, and you need to fix it now. I don't care what it takes. If you can't, then don't bother showing your face again."

The call ended abruptly, leaving the car in silence except for the distant sounds of the city. Y/N's father took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, but the frustration lingered in his eyes.

"Y/N," he finally spoke, turning to his daughter. "We need a solution, and it seems Harold Barnes is offering one. I don't like it, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

Y/N nodded, her gaze shifting to the city lights, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with challenges and unexpected alliances. The weight of the situation settled on her shoulders like an unshakeable burden.

There was a helplessness in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment that she couldn't escape the intricate web of family ties and political obligations.

Suddenly, Y/n received a message from her best friend, Honey, telling her that there was a casting for a famous brand that had just opened. 

Of course, Y/n wants to join; her eyes lightened up. Her father noticed it. He grabs her phone and puts it in his shirt pocket. He said something that hurt her dream. 

"Forget it, you're going to be a rich wife. Why would you ever want to be a model?"

That's hurt Y/N's feelings. 

Did her father forget that his former wife used to be a famous model? 

Did he also didn't know what his daughter wanted?

In the confined space of the car, surrounded by the distant glow of the city, Y/N felt the suffocating lack of freedom.

The walls of her father's decisions closed in on her, leaving her with no escape. Her once-promising dreams were now tethered to the demands of a family in disarray, the consequences of choices she didn't make.

It was her step-brother who ruined her father's image. But why it has to be her who fixes the mistakes?

Y/N sighed heavily. What could she do?

Her father didn't even care about her anymore since she brought his mistress into the house without apologizing that because of his adultery, Y/N's mother took her own life.

************

As the car moved through the city's labyrinthine streets, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, her every move dictated by a situation she had no control over.

The path ahead seemed like an unpredictable journey, with the enigmatic figure of Bucky Barnes's grandfather looming as both a lifeline and a shaper of her destiny.

When the car arrived at Barnes Residence, Y/N and her father were welcomed by Harold Barnes, a formidable figure with a commanding presence.

The imposing mansion, nestled in the city's heart, exuded an air of authority that matched the reputation of the Barnes mafia family.

As the car stopped, Harold Barnes stepped forward to greet them. His steely gaze assessed the situation, and a subtle nod conveyed acknowledgment and expectation.

"Senator [L/N], Y/N," Harold greeted with a firm handshake for Y/N's father and a courteous nod to Y/N.

Though measured, his voice held an undeniable weight that spoke of years spent navigating the intricate world of politics and organized crime.

"We appreciate your timely arrival," Harold continued, his tone hinting of formality. "Please, come inside. We have much to discuss."

Y/N exchanged a brief, uncertain glance with her father before following Harold Barnes into the opulent residence, where shadows seemed to dance across the grandeur of the mafia leader's abode.

The air hung heavy with unspoken agreements and the looming presence of a pact about to be forged. 

In the expansive Barnes Residence, as Y/N's father engaged in a serious discussion with Harold Barnes, Y/N found herself wandering through the mansion's labyrinthine halls.

The grandeur of the house overwhelmed her, each room a testament to the power and history of the Barnes family.

As she strolled, she saw a slightly ajar door, a subtle invitation into the unknown. Driven by curiosity and the need for a momentary escape, Y/N couldn't resist the urge to take a peek. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open.

*****************

The room beyond was dimly lit, the shadows playing on the edges of the walls. In the center, bathed in a pool of muted light, sat Bucky Barnes in a wheelchair. His presence carried an air of solemnity, and for a moment, their eyes met in an unspoken exchange.

Though physically present, Bucky seemed to inhabit a world of his own. The room, filled with an unspoken weight, held traces of a life altered by unforeseen circumstances. Y/N hesitated, sensing the vulnerability in his gaze.

The silence between them spoke volumes, a shared understanding of their challenges. In that fleeting moment, Y/N glimpsed a complexity in Bucky that transcended the public perception of the disgraced figure.

There was a story etched in the lines on his face, a narrative that begged to be unraveled.

Harold was about to call the butler when he saw Y/N wavered to enter the library room.

Ever perceptive, Harold Barnes noticed Y/N's hesitation at the library entrance. With a measured stride, he approached her, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate situation unfolding.

"Y/N," he said in a voice that held both authority and understanding. "Allow me to introduce you to Bucky Barnes." With a gracious gesture, Harold opened the door wider, revealing the dimly lit room and the figure in the wheelchair.

Harold followed suit as Y/N stepped into the room, guiding her toward Bucky. The air in the library seemed to shift, carrying an unspoken weight that Harold acknowledged with a subtle nod.

"Y/N, meet Bucky Barnes," Harold said, his voice a low hum in the quiet room. "Bucky, this is Y/N [L/N], the daughter of Senator [L/N]."

His gaze meeting Y/N's once again, Bucky offered a nod of acknowledgment. His eyes were complex, a silent invitation to understand the unspoken stories that lingered in the room.

Sensing the need for a private exchange, Harold excused himself with a nod. "I'll leave you two to talk. Take your time," he said before quietly closing the library door, leaving Y/N and Bucky in a space where the echoes of their shared circumstances seemed to resonate.

Y/N offered an awkward introduction in the hushed library, her voice breaking the stillness. "Hi, Bucky. I'm Y/N." Should she continue her introduction by saying, 'I’m also your future wife. Next week we will get married.'

Bucky remained silent, his gaze steady yet revealing little. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, threading through the quiet room.

Feeling the need to fill the silence, Y/N glanced around the library briefly before her eyes settled on Bucky's face. Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't help but notice his striking features—handsome, yet marked by the complexities of a life altered.

As her gaze traveled to his left arm, the room seemed to hold its breath. There, in the dim light, she observed the bionic limb, a symbol of both strength and vulnerability. Y/N's eyes lingered, recognizing the silent struggles etched in the contours of that prosthetic.

As Y/N's gaze lingered on Bucky's missing left arm, she sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Bucky, wise to her scrutiny, felt a twinge of discomfort and offense.

The unspoken vulnerability that Y/N had observed seemed to boil over into a harsh reaction.

"What, never seen a guy with a missing arm before?" Bucky's words, laced with bitterness, cut through the silence. His eyes, once steady, now held a glint of wounded pride.

"You probably think I'm some kind of freak, right?" His tone grew sharper, the pain beneath the surface manifesting as anger. "Well, get used to it. This is what I am now."

Y/N, taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere, tried to find the right words. Before she could respond, Bucky's words turned more cutting.

"And what's your game here, huh?" Bucky's voice escalated, the accusation palpable. "Marrying me for my family's wealth? Just like your father, always after power and money."

The words hung in the air, a heavy accusation stung with a truth Y/N hadn't expected. Bucky's resentment, fueled by his insecurities, lashed out, and in that moment, the library became a battleground for emotions too raw to be contained.

As Y/N absorbed the harsh words, an apology caught in her throat. Unable to face the hostility, she whispered, "I'm sorry," before swiftly leaving the room.

The door closed behind her, leaving Bucky alone in the dimly lit library. As the echo of her departure lingered, an unexpected pang of regret stirred in Bucky's chest. He couldn't quite comprehend why he had lashed out with such venom. She hadn't done anything to deserve his bitter words.

Now alone with his thoughts, Bucky replayed the scene in his mind. The realization of his unjust accusations settled heavily on his shoulders. He clenched his jaw, grappling with a surge of remorse that, though unexpected, held a raw truth—he shouldn't have said those words to her.

Bucky gazed at the window behind him, overwhelmed with guilt for involving an innocent woman in his troubled life. The agony of losing his left arm was unbearable, and the need for therapy for his leg added to his suffering.

He felt like a villain as if he had intentionally trapped an innocent woman in this marriage.

The weight of his actions pressed down on him, and the city beyond the window seemed to mock the dramatic turmoil within his soul.

At that moment, Bucky couldn't escape the feeling that he was playing the role of a heartless antagonist, making an unwitting woman suffer in the shadows of his pain.

Author Note :

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Chapter:

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7, 8 , 9 ,10 , 11, 12 , End

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[svt-luna]

ᡴꪫ ⋆ VOGUE: IN THE BAG ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

synopsis: Luna from SEVENTEEN reveals her handbag essentials to British Vogue, as we take a look inside her packed Miu Miu bag.

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ more interviews

The set was nothing short of breathtaking— minimalistic yet artfully arranged to evoke both luxury and comfort. Soft, muted lighting fell across a chic cream-colored couch where Luna sat, the sophisticated backdrop blending warm tones of beige and earthy gold with polished metallic accents. The aesthetic was undeniably high-class, with strategically placed designer books and a hint of greenery to soften the otherwise sleek modern atmosphere.

It was a perfect blend of Luna's effortlessly elegant persona and the refined brand image of British Vogue.

Luna herself exuded understated glamour. Her outfit was the epitome of elegant chic: a fitted, ivory-colored blouse with puffed, slightly structured sleeves that cinched perfectly at her wrists, paired with high-waisted tailored black trousers that flattered her lithe frame. Her hair fell in gentle waves, cascading just below her shoulders, and her makeup was soft and radiant, allowing her natural beauty to shine through. Her entire look screamed polished, confident, and effortlessly cool— a perfect reflection of her status as both a musical sensation and a fashion icon.

Resting beside her on the couch was her bag— a stunning tan suede Beau bag by Miu Miu. Luna was, after all, an ambassador for the luxury brand, and the bag was a signature piece from one of their latest collections. The bag's structured shape was both modern and classic, the suede giving it a touch of soft texture against its angular design. But what made it distinctly ‘Luna’ was the collection of colorful keychains and chains adorning the bag’s handles.

There was a cute little bunny keychain, a charm in the shape of a letter J, and a splash of vibrant colors from beaded tassels and chains. It was like a glimpse into her playful personality, blending seamlessly with her refined fashion sense.

Luna shifted slightly in her seat, her soft smile widening as she looked directly into the camera. With an air of confidence and warmth, she began the video with a gentle tone, her British accent immediately noticeable— polished and cool.

“Hello, British Vogue, this is SEVENTEEN’s Luna,” she began, her voice soft yet clear, carrying a natural rhythm that was effortlessly captivating, “and this is what’s in my bag.”

The cadence of her speech, her tone, and her charming accent all worked together to immediately draw the audience in. It was easy to imagine her charisma reaching through the screen, her words a perfect blend of soft-spoken coolness with a hint of playful charm. The introduction felt personal, almost as if Luna was inviting her viewers into a moment of intimacy, giving them a glimpse into her everyday life through the contents of her beloved Miu Miu bag.

Luna smiled softly at the camera, her fingers wrapping around the tan suede strap of her beloved Miu Miu bag, bringing it closer to show it off.

“So, this is my bag,” she said, her tone light and playful as she lifted it up with both hands, presenting it to the camera like a proud parent. The smile on her face widened, a little giggle escaping her lips. “This is my new favorite baby,” she confessed, her British accent rolling effortlessly with each word, adding a hint of charm to her candid admission.

The camera zoomed in slightly on the bag, showcasing its smooth, luxurious texture and the collection of colorful keychains hanging from the handles— bright beaded tassels, a small plush bunny, and a a keychain of the letter J, all adding a playful touch to the otherwise elegant design.

“I say that now because… I have a shopping problem,” Luna laughed, her shoulders shaking a little as she spoke, “and shoes and bags are my absolute favorite to buy. A week from now, I might have a new favorite.” Her laughter bubbled up again, and she glanced down at the bag like it had a personality all its own.

Her hands caressed the suede softly as she continued explaining, a bit of humor lacing her voice. “I prefer smaller purses, actually. Because I’m the type of person who would fill a bigger bag up to the brim with useless stuff— just because I can.” She shrugged with a knowing smile. “An overpacker, if you may. So I avoid big purses, and this one right here is the perfect size. Not too big and not too small. Just enough to stop me from going overboard.”

As she spoke, she absentmindedly adjusted the keychains hanging from the handles, a delicate clinking sound accompanying her movements. Her eyes lit up as she pointed at the colorful charms, her excitement palpable. “Also!” she said, her voice bright with enthusiasm, “I love decorating my bags with keychains and charms. It’s so much fun!” Luna tilted the bag towards the camera, giving the viewers a closer look at the collection of dangling trinkets.

Her eyes glinted with mischief as she added with a little laugh, “People say it’s messy, and frankly, I couldn’t care less what they think.” She shook her head lightly, still smiling, her hand adjusting the bag's strap before casually placing it on her shoulder.

The weight of the keychains caused them to jingle in a melodic clatter, and Luna’s face lit up with amusement. “You’ll always know it’s me because of that sound,” she joked, giving the bag a playful shake, causing the keychains to rattle even louder. She laughed openly at the noise, her energy infectious, before gently setting the bag down on the couch beside her, ready to delve into the contents within.

Her natural charm, her quick wit, and that little bit of self-deprecating humor made the moment feel effortless and real as if she was chatting with friends rather than an audience of thousands.

Luna gently opened her bag with a soft smile and looked up at the camera, her voice as smooth as ever with that signature British accent. “Okay, let’s start, shall we?” she said, almost like inviting her audience into an inside joke.

She reached into the tan suede bag and pulled out not one but two iPhones. The first was plain, sleek, and professional— no case, no frills, just a phone. The second, in stark contrast, was wrapped in a baby pink case adorned with a cute, beaded keychain hanging off the side, catching the light and jingling softly as she held it up.

With a phone in each hand, Luna grinned and tilted her head slightly, her eyes gleaming with a playful mischief. “So first… my phones. Yes, phones… plural,” she said with a light laugh, drawing out the plural for emphasis. “I have two.” She paused for a beat, letting the revelation sink in before delivering the punchline. “Why? Because I can.” She giggled, her carefree energy coming through as she lifted the phones slightly like it was no big deal.

“I have two phones with two different purposes. One is my work phone,” she said, holding up the plain, no-nonsense iPhone, “and the other is my personal phone.” Luna smiled wider as she raised the second phone with the pink case, the beaded keychain dangling between her fingers, creating a delightful contrast.

She pointed between the two phones, her eyebrows raising as if to say, it’s pretty obvious which is which. “It’s pretty obvious which is which,” she echoed her expression with a small giggle.

“My work phone obviously is only for work. It’s where I get contacted for work reasons and work reasons only. This is the number I would normally give people,” she explained, waving the plain phone lightly in the air. “Like, if you’re someone I just met a few times and you ask for my number, I'll give it to you... but you’re getting this one,” she grinned cheekily, the camera picking up on her playful mood.

“And this one…” she lifted the pink-cased phone, the tone in her voice softening slightly, “…is obviously my personal phone. I only give this number to close friends and family— my members obviously who are both my close friends and family,” she added, her smile turning a little more sentimental as she gazed at the beaded charm hanging from the side. "I'm being so serious when I say I only have about twenty contacts on this phone and the majority of them are my members.

After a moment, her eyes sharpened with a teasing glint, and her tone shifted back to something cool and lighthearted. “Why do I do that? It’s because there are a lot of weirdos out there,” she said, her voice dipping just enough to sound a little savage, though she followed it up with a soft giggle to keep it light.

“So if I give you my work number…” she held up the plain phone one last time, “…then you know your place.” She ended with a small wink and a laugh, her cool yet playful attitude shining through as she placed both phones gently on the table in front of her, the pink keychain giving one last, soft jingle as the camera zoomed in on them briefly.

Luna’s fingers disappeared into the depths of her tan Miu Miu bag once more, and when they reappeared, she held up a sleek black wallet, also Miu Miu, to the camera. “Next is my wallet, obviously. This is very important,” she said with a light laugh as she raised it higher, giving the viewers a good look. The wallet was as chic and polished as the rest of her outfit, its simple design matching her elegant vibe perfectly. She placed it on the table next to her phones, the smooth leather barely making a sound.

Without missing a beat, Luna reached into her bag again and pulled out another black accessory, this time a slim YSL cardholder. “This is my cardholder… for my cards, obviously,” she explained with a grin, showing off the minimalist design to the camera. “It’s more convenient to have so I don’t have to dig through my wallet every time.” She set the cardholder next to her wallet, a subtle but clear difference in size and function between the two.

Next, Luna pulled out not one but two sunglasses cases, both stylish and sleek. “Okay, so these are very important,” she said with emphasis, her tone playful but hinting that these were essentials. Opening the first case with care, she revealed a pair of thin-framed reading glasses. She slipped them on briefly, adjusting them on the bridge of her nose, giving the camera a slightly exaggerated serious look.

“These are my reading glasses. I need them… for reading,” she said with a soft chuckle, leaning into the obviousness of her statement. She adjusted the glasses once more before adding, “My eyesight isn’t terrible yet, by the way. I just need these for reading.” Her British accent was more pronounced, adding a delicate charm to her casual explanation. After a brief pause, she removed the glasses, tucked them back into their case, and placed them on the table.

Moving on, Luna opened the second case with an air of excitement and care, as if it contained something truly special. Inside was a pair of sleek black Miu Miu sunglasses, and without hesitation, she slid them on, pushing them up slightly for a perfect fit. “Now, these are my sunnies,” she declared, striking a playful pose to show off the shades.

“I cannot leave the house without these,” Luna admitted. “You could never go wrong with a pair of black sunnies. It always completes the look.” She smiled at the camera, clearly satisfied with her statement, and took a moment to adjust them before pulling them off and carefully placing them back in their case. As she placed the case on the table, the collection of her daily essentials started to take shape in front of her, each item perfectly aligned and displayed for the camera.

Luna dug into her bag again, her fingers searching for the next item. She soon pulled out a sleek black Prada mini pouch, small and elegant, just like the rest of her accessories. She held it up for the camera with a soft smile. “This is my mini touch-up bag, if you may,” she said, showing it off before unzipping it smoothly.

“I almost always get my makeup and hair done professionally by my amazingly talented makeup and hair crew, given my job,” she explained as she opened the pouch further and peeked inside. “So I don’t carry a lot of makeup or hair products with me.” Luna pulled out a compact mirror first, its silver casing catching the light. “I have a mirror and a mini brush,” she started, holding the brush up to demonstrate its compact size. As she continued to sift through her pouch, she began listing off items. “I have hair ties, hair pins, safety pins, a scrunchie, a claw clip, face mask... and a bow,"

"I also have mascara, eyeliner…” Luna’s eyes widened slightly as she pulled out several lip products, her hand full of sleek tubes and compact cases. She giggled at the sight. “And a lot… a concerning amount of lip products,” she laughed softly, placing each item on the table.

One by one, she began pointing them out.

“Lipstick, lipstick, lip stain, lip gloss, lip gloss, chapstick… lipstick, more lip gloss,” she listed, shaking her head in amusement as the small pile grew in front of her. “As you can see, lip products are my favorite,” Luna remarked, her British accent adding a playful charm to her confession. She grinned at the camera, clearly aware of how over-the-top the collection looked.

Moving on, she pulled out the last item from the pouch— a case of colorful pimple patches. “Ooh, I have these cute pimple patches!” she exclaimed, showing off the vibrant assortment of designs. The case was decorated with different shapes and patterns, from stars to hearts. “I love these; they’re adorable and functional,” she said with a proud smile.

Luna zipped up her pouch, placing it next to the other items on the table. “That’s it for my mini touch-up bag,” she concluded with a satisfied nod, glancing over her collection before looking back at the camera.

Luna reached into her bag once again, this time pulling out a soft and fluffy Hello Kitty pouch. A grin spread across her face as she presented it to the camera. “Another mini pouch,” she said with a playful tone, holding it up for a closer look. “This is even more important because this pouch contains the essentials,” she added, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone.

Unzipping the pouch, she began to reveal the contents. First, she took out a small medicine case. “These are my vitamins,” she said, shaking the case lightly, the pills rattling inside. “These are very important since I travel a lot,” Luna explained, setting the case down before pulling out another.

“Now, these are my iron pills,” she giggled, giving the second case a shake as well. “I’m very much anemic and need them to… live,” she joked, her giggle soft but contagious. Placing both medicine cases on the table in front of her, she continued rummaging through the pouch.

“Next… painkillers,” Luna announced, showing the small bottle to the camera. “These are more so for my members,” she admitted with a smile. “I don’t like taking pills. In fact, I absolutely hate drinking medicine. Ever since I was young, it’s been a struggle. A little fun fact about me: I couldn’t swallow pills until I was like… fifteen. That’s how much I hated them,” she said, her eyes glancing at the bottle with a chuckle. "It's sound pathetic 'cause it is."

“I mean, just drinking my vitamins every day makes me physically cringe, so I almost never take painkillers unless I’m on the ground screaming in pain,” Luna confessed, shrugging lightly. “I have a high pain tolerance, which is both a blessing and a curse, honestly. I only have these on me all the time in case any of the members need it,” she said, her accent soft but present, as she placed the painkillers next to the rest of her essentials.

Continuing, Luna pulled out a small pack of motion sickness medicine and a few motion sickness patches. “Next are these,” she showed the camera the packs. “Motion sickness medicine and motion sickness patches— for myself and my members,” she chuckled softly. “At least half of us get motion sick,” she explained. “Sometimes when I’m in the car for too long, or on a plane… or if we somehow find ourselves in any body of water… this is good for that,” Luna said with a small laugh, placing the items on the table in front of her.

Luna reached into her bag again, pulling out a few small sachets and bottles. “These are my supplements,” she explained, showing them to the camera with a quick smile. She lifted the items one by one. “Liquid IV, which I add to my water,” she said, holding up a small packet of powder. “Royal jelly,” she continued, showcasing a tiny jar, “and collagen.” She placed them down gently on the table. “If you ask me what my secret is when it comes to healthy skin… it’s these three,” Luna said confidently, offering the camera a small wink before moving on.

Her hand dipped back into the fluffy pouch and out came a small pack and tin. “Next, I have breath strips and breath mints,” she announced, shaking them lightly before placing them alongside her supplements.

Luna then pulled out a small tin of lozenges and a slim bottle of throat spray. “I have these lozenges for my throat, and… propolis throat spray,” she said, holding the items close to the camera for a better view. Setting them down, Luna explained, “My main instrument is my voice, so I make sure to take extra care of it, especially when traveling because of the changes in weather and such.” Her voice carried a calm seriousness, emphasizing how much care she put into maintaining her health.

Satisfied with her explanation, she zipped the Hello Kitty pouch closed, placing it next to the growing collection of items on the table. “That’s it for my second mini pouch,” she said with a small, satisfied nod, already reaching for the next item in her bag.

Luna reached into her bag again, this time something jingling loudly before she even fully retrieved it. The sound made her chuckle as she briefly put her head down, a grin spreading across her face.

“I have my keys,” she said, finally pulling out a keyring that held two keys— one a standard house key, and the other a car key. But what made her laugh was the sheer amount of keychains dangling from the ring, nearly covering the keys entirely.

“You can barely see the keys,” she chuckled, holding the keyring up to the camera. “I love keychains,” she explained, shaking them slightly to let the noise fill the air again. The assortment of charms and little trinkets jingled as they danced together, showcasing Luna's playful and quirky side.

“Anyway… keys,” she said, resetting herself. “One is my house key and the other one’s my car key,” she continued, showing the camera both. “It’s funny I still have my car key here considering I haven’t driven myself anywhere in like… two years,” Luna added with a smirk, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“It sounds crazy but it’s true,” she admitted, leaning back slightly. “We travel a lot and get driven around a lot. And even if we don’t have work, I still get driven around… It’s one of the perks of having thirteen members who are more than willing to drive me places.” Luna giggled again, the sound light and infectious. “I only got my license for the giggles. I’m a professional passenger princess and I am proud,” she declared with a playful raise of her chin, placing the jingling keyring down on the table.

Before she could dig into her bag again, she picked up a small pack of gum and sweets and showed them to the camera. “I have gum and more sweets,” Luna said, flashing a quick smile. “Just in case I get low on energy or if anyone else gets low on energy,” she added with a casual shrug, placing the small pack next to her keys on the table.

Luna reached back into her bag, her fingers brushing against various items as she asked aloud, “What else do we have here?” After rummaging for a moment, her hand emerged holding a small jewelry box. She smiled, pleased with the find. “Oooh, this is a mini jewelry box for my jewelry,” she said, flipping it open to show the camera. Inside, nestled safely, were a few pieces of jewelry, delicate rings and small earrings, glinting softly under the light.

“These are just a few pieces aside from the ones I’m already wearing,” Luna continued, gently turning the box toward the camera. “There are times during performances or photoshoots when we can’t wear our own jewelry because of the concepts and stuff, so I keep this handy to make sure my things don’t disappear into the depths of my bag,” she explained with a knowing smile before closing the box and placing it carefully on the table.

She reached back into her bag and pulled out a pink journal, clutching a few pens in her other hand. “I have my journal,” she said, displaying the cover. “I like writing down my thoughts every now and then. Sometimes I doodle, sometimes I write poems, and sometimes those poems turn into song lyrics.” Luna's voice softened slightly as she explained, her connection to her journal clearly meaningful. "I usually carry a book with me, I love reading... but I am poorly prepared, I think I left it at home... or in the car actually."

Then, holding up the pens, she added with a smile, “I have a couple of pens, obviously to write with, and a marker— just in case I meet fans and they want me to sign their stuff.” She raised the marker playfully before placing everything neatly in front of her.

Finally, as she reached once more into the seemingly endless bag, Luna pulled out a familiar item, her expression brightening. “My passport. Very important,” she said, holding it up briefly before placing it next to the journal, pens, and jewelry box.

Luna dug around in her bag again, her fingers grazing familiar shapes before pulling out a small white case. “My AirPods,” she said, holding them up to the camera. “Very important. I absolutely cannot leave the house without these.” She placed them neatly on the table before diving back into her bag with a laugh. “Which leads me to this,” she added, pulling out another small pouch. “This is the last of the pouches, I promise.”

She opened the pouch with a smile and took out a pair of wired earphones, holding them up for the camera to see. “I have my wired earphones as backup,” she explained, grinning. “Music is very important to me, so whenever my AirPods die, I have a backup. Always.”

Next, she reached into the same pouch and retrieved a phone charger and power bank, displaying them before placing them on the table. “And of course, these— my charger and my power bank. Always prepared.”

After placing the electronics down, she pulled out two small bottles out of her bag, her face softening as she presented them. “These are my essential oils— lavender and peppermint,” she explained, holding the bottles up close to the camera. “These are also something I can’t travel without. Whenever I’m feeling nauseous, sick, or congested…” Luna paused, unscrewing the cap on one of the bottles as she demonstrated how to use it. She rubbed a few drops of the oil on her fingers, gently massaging it into her temples and the back of her neck before lightly tapping the tip of her nose. “I just put it here, and it really helps to calm me down when I’m anxious or if I can’t sleep,” she said, her voice soft, almost therapeutic, before capping the bottle and placing it on the table.

She nodded thoughtfully, “They’re lifesavers, really,” she added with a smile before glancing back into her bag for what else might be left to reveal.

Luna glanced at the last couple of items in her bag, a knowing smile already tugging at her lips. “And speaking of scents that calm me down…” she began, reaching into her bag with a soft chuckle. She pulled out two small, luxury-looking perfume bottles, their gleaming glass catching the light in the room.

“Perfume,” she said, holding them up for the camera to see. “I love smelling good. It completes the look, always.” She twisted the cap off the first bottle, revealing the delicate nozzle beneath. “These are the mini versions of my perfumes,” Luna continued, grinning as she admired the tiny bottle in her hand. “Whenever I buy perfumes, I always buy the mini ones as well so I can bring those with me. Big perfume bottles are such a hassle to carry around… So, the mini ones are my go-to,” she added with a smirk, “and they’re adorable.”

Luna brought the first bottle closer to the camera, the elegant logo visible. “This is one of my favorite scents ever,” she said, her voice warm with affection. She sprayed a small amount on herself, closing her eyes as the scent enveloped her. A soft giggle escaped her lips, a playful, content sound that made her dimples pop.

As she picked up the second bottle, her expression softened, and a more personal, intimate smile played on her lips. This perfume, unlike the first, was clearly a man’s cologne— its sleek design and musky scent hinted at its origins. She paused for a moment, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes.

Unbeknownst to the public, this was the very same cologne Jeonghan wore. He had given her the bottle as a gift after Luna had once told him how much she loved the scent.

“This…” Luna started, her voice tinged with a giggle, “This is another perfume I carry with me.” She held the bottle up to the camera, her thumb gently tracing the cap. “I love the smell. It makes me happy and calm,” she added, a knowing smile on her face. “This was gifted to me, and the scent reminds me of that person…” Luna let out a shy giggle, her dimples deepening as she bit her bottom lip, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

Before setting it down, Luna sprayed a small amount of the cologne onto the inside of her wrists. She pressed her wrists together, inhaling the familiar scent as her eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment. She opened them again, smiling softly at the camera. “Next item…” she said, moving on sneakily, her tone light and teasing as if she hadn’t just given a tiny glimpse into a secret part of her life.

She placed both bottles on the table, the air around her now subtly filled with the mingling scents of her favorite perfumes.

Luna reached into her bag one final time, her fingers brushing against the last item inside. “Lastly, I have my digital camera,” she said, pulling it out with a smile. The camera was encased in a soft, protective cover that she gently unzipped, revealing a small, pink digital camera underneath.

“This isn’t the most high-quality digital camera,” she said with a laugh, fiddling with the device in her hands. She ran her thumb over its smooth surface, clearly fond of it. “But I love it like that. It gives me that very early 2000s feel when I take my pictures,” Luna added, her voice full of affection for the retro style.

She switched the camera on, its little screen flickering to life with a soft glow. Without hesitating, she lifted it toward her view, taking a quick picture of the space in front of her. The camera made an old-school click, capturing the moment with a slightly grainy, vintage aesthetic. Luna chuckled softly at the sound, admiring the charm of the imperfect image.

After a moment of appreciation, she placed the pink digital camera carefully on the table, alongside the rest of her belongings. Her eyes scanned the collection in front of her — from her supplements and perfume bottles to her keys adorned with keychains and the journal that held her thoughts. There was something both comforting and nostalgic about seeing all these pieces of her life spread out in front of her.

Luna looked back at the camera with a wide smile, her eyes gleaming with warmth. “Well, that’s about it,” she said with a light giggle, her dimples showing as she leaned back slightly. “Thank you for watching, and that was what’s in my bag.”

She flashed a final smile to the camera, raising her hand in a small wave, her casual yet charming energy lingering in the air.

comments…

@/lunababybae • 2 years ago ╰ Her accent! it’s like I’m in Hogwarts or something 😩

@/rinarieee • 2 years ago ╰ She’s looking extra beautiful this interview 🤍

@/gyusshadow • 2 years ago ╰ Her bag is so… her. Does that makes sense?! Elegant and fucking crazy at the same time.

@/moonbae17 • 2 years ago ╰ Jiyeonie saying that she might have a different favorite bag next week screams ✨shopping addiction✨ and I am here for it.

@/saythename • 2 years ago ╰ she is def my bias! a shopaholic and an over packer!!! I wanna be your friend so bad, Bae Jiyeon 😭

@/mad-lineeee • 2 years ago ╰ 1:00 her face when her bag started jingling 😂😂 she cracks me up fr.

@/mrsbaebae • 2 years ago ╰ the fact that Jiyeon will give you her phone number if you ask… then you find out she has two phones 🤭 she’s an icon.

@/alyy1625 • 2 years ago ╰ EXACTLY AT 1:17 HER WALLPAPER?! TELL ME THAT’S NOT HER AND JEONGHAN!!

@/jeongnanana • 2 years ago ╰ She’s such a closed off person it’s literally so hot and inspiring at the same time. Like, what do you mean you have a separate phone for people you like?!

@/gyuuuuudaily • 2 years ago ╰ she’s so right 1:38 there are a lot of weirdos out there. she probs have two phones because of the sasaengs who leak their phone number, I don’t blame her at all 🙄

@/sallluuuteee17 • 2 years ago. ╰ 1:25 only twenty contacts and most of them are members of seventeen 😂 so only seven people in her personal phone aren’t in the band 😂

@/lulu-nana17• 2 years ago ╰ girl– your wallpaper?! miss thing!? Is that who I think it is?!

@/sebongrighthere • 2 years ago ╰ “So if I give you my work number… then you know your place “ HOT 🥵 HOT 🥵 HOT 🥵

@/missbitchhhh • 2 years ago ╰ She had a mountain of lip products 2:17

@/shadowmyshadow • 2 years ago ╰ no wonder her lips look so soft, she carries a whole store of lip products with her everywhere.

@/angel7266 • 2 years ago ╰ knowing that my bias hates drinking pills and didn’t know how to swallow them till later on in life is so comforting to me… she is me and I am her.

@/hannnieeeee7251 • 2 years ago ╰ Luna being literally iron deficient makes so much sense for some reason (I am too) 😊

@/user763816262 • 2 years ago ╰ it’s adorable to me how half of the things in Luna’s bag, she only really carry around in case the rest of the members need it 🥹

@/ashonashonash_ • 2 years ago ╰ Key to having Bae Jiyeon skin: Liquid IV, Royal Jelly, and Collagen. Noted queen 💖💖💖

@/jijijiyeonienie • 2 years ago ╰ her keys are nowhere to be found 😂

@/kpopfan17 • 2 years ago ╰ that Porsche car key is basically a keychain at this point, miss thing! Wdym you haven’t driven in two years!?

@/belleeeee_ • 2 years ago ╰ “I only got my license for the giggles. I’m a professional passenger princess and I am proud.” Said by Bae Jiyeon who then proceeded to brag about having thirteen men who are filling to be Uber drivers for her *ehem* Yoon Jeonghan *ehem* Kim Mingyu *ehem*

@/diamondlifeu • 1 year ago ╰ she has that Hermoine Granger bag fr

@/gyuminggooo • 1 year ago ╰ 3:57 those candies are Hannie’s fave 🤭

@/dailynanana • 1 year ago ╰ I love how she’s not gatekeeping at all 💖

@/chuuuuchhuu17 • 1 year ago ╰ “sunnies” “sweets” she’s English for sure 🤣💕

@/lalunanova • 1 year ago ╰ 5:45 !!! she looking at that perfume like that for a reason! I’m not crazy istg 😭

@/17-carat • 3 weeks ago ╰ “I love the smell. It makes me happy and calm. This was gifted to me, and the scent reminds me of that person…” THEN PROCEEDS TO FUCKING SHOW US YOON JEONGHAN’S PERFUME!!

@/myg145 • 2 weeks ago ╰ that’s Jeonghan’s perfume! I’m pretty sure he showed it in one of his interviews… HIS what’s in my bag!!! BAE JIYEON!! WTF?!

@/bjy_lover • 1 week ago ╰ she’s the girlfriend for sure… THE Yoon Jeonghan’s girlfriend. the wallpaper, the candies, the perfume, and the matching digital camera?!

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

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Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav @billboard-singer @junhuisworld @caturdayvibe

[lorelune]

aventurine with a reader who is his handler. your primary job? risk analysis. you were an intelligentsia guild member-- once, before your talent for mental statistical computations were fully discovered. being quietly brilliant was much easier than being loudly so. where you could once toil away on private research on the ipc's dime, you now trail behind aventurine, attempting to mitigate all the damage that ripples around him.

(this is particularly difficult as aventurine is a man cursed with luck so good that it's a statistical anomaly. prediction is useless. calculations must be made on the fly and you must pray you are accurate, lest the strategic investment department end up in some amount of personal of fiscal debt themselves.)

aventurine had assured you initially that you didn't need to keep such a close eye on him. and at first, you'd believed him. he is one of the ten stonehearts, and well-regarded despite the rumors and brand on his neck. it's-- it's not your business anyway. to pry. you trust him.

and truthfully, he does keep a good handle on himself. he gets out of all of his gambles in one-- piece. sort of. he either skirts disaster with no room to spare or he takes on the disaster with his own two hands and grit and fucking wins.

and truthfully, if that was the only thing you had to analyze about aventurine, your job would be quite easy. he's lucky. he wins.

however-- there's just so much more to it than that. factors and variables that aren't affected by aventurine's uniquely good fortune. there always is. but what is and what isn't is hard to suss out. it-- it all constantly changes and hence you have to be in aventurine's shadow and hope that your mind is fast enough to deduce and calculate at the speed that aventurine cuts typical odds down to aventurine odds.

which is to say, that exhaustion follows in your shadow.

aventurine isn't a horrible boss. as much as you're his handler, he's yours. there's a semi-silent, mutual duty you both carry. aventurine makes sure you stay in his shadow, just out of sight and out of danger (so, he can position himself in front of any bullets, stray or otherwise. because they will never hit him.) and you make sure that he does not inadvertently cause a firestorm half a galaxy away.

it works. it's tenuous, most of the time. because aventurine thinks getting close to you is his greatest gamble (one cannot use luck to mend a broken heart). and because you recognize that, for all of your risk analysis and statistical understanding of the universe at large, at some point, you will be in aventurine's wake at the wrong time. and your luck, in conjunction to his endless luck, will run out.

it's a statistical inevitability.

[wordsnstuff]

Why does screenwriting have such a weird format? I know it's standard for scripts of all kinds, but it's also alien? It almost looks like it's designed for someone to write quickly??

Why are screenplays the way they are?

Screenplays are interesting pieces of writing because while they can read very beautifully, and quality is apparent in some scripts more than others, it is a medium that is extremely purposeful. The script is not the final destination of the idea, and that is what you have to remember. The script is, more than anything, a map. It gives the cast, crew, and producers the necessary information to get a sense of the story so that it can be adapted effectively. Therefore, the quality of a script is judged by a completely different rubrick:

Adaptability: Scripts are naturally going to go through many changes to serve the filmmaking process. Filmmaking is a fundamentally collaborative process so other members of the group must be able to effectively interpret the script well enough to make strategic improvements. Scripts are definitely works of art in their own right, but the design must account for adaptation into a completely different medium and you will not always be the person making executive decisions on how that is to be done.

Clarity: Creative liberty is acceptable in a lot of forms of writing, and style is definitely apparent in a screenwriter's work, but that is primarily to be found in how they practically form the elements of the story, rather than how it is delivered in words. The clearer your meaning and intent in a script, the easier it will be for the other people you're collaborating with to interpret and translate into the next medium. Even if your work is meant to be experimental, abstract, or avant garde, the script is the place where you make sure everyone that is inside of the production understands the point, so that they can help you make sure everyone outside of it is confused in the desired way. Your talent and style can be showcased in the way you demonstrate the particular brand of humor or suspense or drama in the descriptions, dialogue, and dialogue cues.

Efficiency: Format is extremely strict in the industry because it is a collaborative medium that often brings together hundreds of crew members who are all from different backgrounds/experience. The one thing that must remain consistent and reliable is the legibility of the script. The gaffer and the producer alike must be able to pick up the script and find what they need to learn in order to fulfill their role. The format of the script denotes specific crew member's cues in specific places so they know how to find what's expected of them quickly and efficiently. While on larger productions, there's often many directorial positions who are coordinating and communicating with the crew members who handle more detail oriented jobs, that isn't always the case.

My advice, if you're looking to gain experience in writing scripts that are actually meant to be adapted is to practice self-discipline, pragmatism, and distance. Your script won't always belong to you. There isn't the autonomy in screenwriting that you have in prose. Learn the rules of screenwriting, then learn how to enhance them in your own way.

Best of luck,

x Kate

–

Masterlist

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[cyjammy]

Vox and Valentino: A Display of Trust

VALENTINO AND VOX

Not going to lie, I was the most excited for this dynamic and it just barely beats out Vox and Alastor’s rivalry. For four years they were both the big unknowns only seen for about 30 seconds in the pilot.

There were theories about their dynamic that I hoped to god wouldn’t be true in the show.

Because they didn’t make sense, they looked friendly with each other when they hunkered down for the extermination. And there was no way one sinner (Val) could create an empire alone.

AND I’M SO HAPPY THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.

Valentino being hot headed and brash was not on my 2024 bingo card, but I’m here for it.

(Yes, he’s a bad person. So is everyone else in the show. Alastor hangs out with cannibals and most likely participates. It’s a show about Hell.)

I LOVE HIM. I love everything about him down to the voice, the fluctuating emotions, the drama, the possessiveness — ALL. OF. IT.

I love me some fucking drama and I was LIVING for the back and forth between him and Vox.

Valentino is in charge because of the power he has.

He’s not a words guy, he uses action. He refuses to change his ways because that’s what got him to the top. He’s ready to hunt down Angel just for moving out.

Mind you he still goes to work and fulfills his side of the contract, Valentino just can’t handle not having control.

Micromanaging Angel’s life down to the smallest of details. Controlling who he can talk to, what he can wear.

He wants his plaything back in his sight, he doesn’t want him getting defiant. He wants his leash short so he doesn’t get any ideas.

And the way he gaslights the fuck out of Angel hit hard. Getting away from an abuser and then having the distance you finally need to heal, but being forced to be in contact with them is so restricting that it hurts.

Jesus that was fucking with me.

You don’t necessarily have to be smart to manipulate people, and Val knows that. Val plays the part of the fool so people underestimate him.

He feigns impulsiveness.

When asked for strategic advice he plays dumb.

That’s calculated, and it may just be written off as idiotic, but that’s probably what he wants.

He has to be playing dumb, there is no way he has survived this long by pure luck.

Vox makes do with him by his side because Val can gain trust and place sinners under his spell.

That makes him a valuable asset. Vox supplies the equipment and Valentino supplies the merchandise.

Because that’s all he considers those who are under his employ.

They’re things to be sold to an audience.

But Vox might not see the subtle ways Val messes with him.

Val’s a bratty, unsympathetic, monster that will do anything to get his way. With the guidance of someone with a more grounded personality removed from his issues is when he is able to see reason.

And Velvet can’t even do that, only Vox.

That shows respect and trust.

Even when Vox was spelling it out for him slowly it wasn’t a slight against him, it was a reminder and it held no malice.

If it did, Vox would have lost his temper as he did with Alastor. He kept himself measured for Val and reigned himself back in.

He may know that it won’t get him anywhere after dealing with him for so long. If Vox didn’t see Valentino as a worthwhile investment, he wouldn’t even go through the effort.

Vox knows the best way to get Valentino to listen.

Valentino is extremely self centered. Vox speaks in a way that makes Val want to care, while still making sure it benefits him as well.

“OUR brand”

“Any idea what YOU would look like chasing random whores around town”

“OUR image”

Their partnership is of the upmost importance. Vox needs to make sure the empire remains, that the Vs have their power. That they’re on top.

And that’s a goal Valentino can get behind.

Valentino backs off with disappointment, because he enjoys violence. And he wanted there to be a show.

So instead he throws out something that could really get under Vox’s skin.

Alastor.

Val could have used this information to cripple Vox, make him vulnerable during a time where he needed to stay focused.

But instead, he uses it now.

Val was bored, he knew how Vox would react, and he wanted a show.

And a show he received. Pressing all the right buttons to see his partner go mad.

I want to see more of Valentino. So far his actions could be read as surface level — dumb and erratic — or strategic.

As of now, I’m assuming he knows what he’s doing.

Anger clouds your judgement and both Vox and Val were subject to that effect within a few minutes. That doesn’t necessarily mean Val is a fool and that Vox calls ALL of the shots.

Val acts idiotic around his colleagues because he knows they won’t take advantage of him. Until I see how he is around Angel Dust outside of those voicemails or around his other employees is when that can be settled.

I’m hoping this is a strategic play, because that would be an amazing use of misdirection. All the signs are there, and it could be so.

I also love how Vox is never fearful of Val and vice versa. They both would take steps toward each other that would be misconstrued as advancing toward violence.

Neither flinch. They look a bit surprised, sure, but never scared.

The respect is there and I love the relationship Val and Vox have.

[mariacallous]

One of the things enterprise storage and destruction company Iron Mountain does is handle the archiving of the media industry's vaults. What it has been seeing lately should be a wake-up call: Roughly one-fifth of the hard disk drives dating to the 1990s it was sent are entirely unreadable.

Music industry publication Mix spoke with the people in charge of backing up the entertainment industry. The resulting tale is part explainer on how music is so complicated to archive now, part warning about everyone's data stored on spinning disks.

"In our line of work, if we discover an inherent problem with a format, it makes sense to let everybody know," Robert Koszela, global director for studio growth and strategic initiatives at Iron Mountain, told Mix. "It may sound like a sales pitch, but it's not; it's a call for action."

Hard drives gained popularity over spooled magnetic tape as digital audio workstations, mixing and editing software, and the perceived downsides of tape, including deterioration from substrate separation and fire. But hard drives present their own archival problems. Standard hard drives were also not designed for long-term archival use. You can almost never decouple the magnetic disks from the reading hardware inside, so if either fails, the whole drive dies.

There are also general computer storage issues, including the separation of samples and finished tracks, or proprietary file formats requiring archival versions of software. Still, Iron Mountain tells Mix that “if the disk platters spin and aren’t damaged," it can access the content.

But "if it spins" is becoming a big question mark. Musicians and studios now digging into their archives to remaster tracks often find that drives, even when stored at industry-standard temperature and humidity, have failed in some way, with no partial recovery option available.

“It’s so sad to see a project come into the studio, a hard drive in a brand-new case with the wrapper and the tags from wherever they bought it still in there,” Koszela says. “Next to it is a case with the safety drive in it. Everything’s in order. And both of them are bricks.”

Entropy Wins

Mix's passing along of Iron Mountain's warning hit Hacker News earlier this week, which spurred other tales of faith in the wrong formats. The gist of it: You cannot trust any medium, so you copy important things over and over, into fresh storage. "Optical media rots, magnetic media rots and loses magnetic charge, bearings seize, flash storage loses charge, etc.," writes user abracadaniel. "Entropy wins, sometimes much faster than you’d expect."

There is discussion of how SSDs are not archival at all; how floppy disk quality varied greatly between the 1980s, 1990s, and 2000s; how Linear Tape-Open, a format specifically designed for long-term tape storage, loses compatibility over successive generations; how the binder sleeves we put our CD-Rs and DVD-Rs in have allowed them to bend too much and stop being readable.

Knowing that hard drives will eventually fail is nothing new. Ars wrote about the five stages of hard drive death, including denial, back in 2005. Last year, backup company Backblaze shared failure data on specific drives, showing that drives that fail tend to fail within three years, that no drive was totally exempt, and that time does, generally, wear down all drives. Google's server drive data showed in 2007 that HDD failure was mostly unpredictable, and that temperatures were not really the deciding factor.

So Iron Mountain's admonition to music companies is yet another warning about something we've already heard. But it's always good to get some new data about just how fragile a good archive really is.

[celeste444spacey]

Things we can learn from the Upper East Side- A guide to how our fave tv elites deal with fame, success and attention.

So you're famous now, can you handle it?

What better than to learn the art of fame from none other than our favorite teenage dirtbags involved in scandals, betrayals, well drawn out revenges with constant reputation destroying and restoring... our holy grail : Gossip Girl.

If there's one thing we can learn from these horrible rich kids making way more horrible decisions, it's handling attention and fame.

You might argue and say they were a bunch of teens who were downright horrible to each other, but i'd argue they did handle speculation and rumors way better than we would (questionably at times however).

So here's a few things i observed on the show compiled into a guide, just so you can handle fame well too!

1

They did not let the gossip girl blasts get to them.

This is quite frankly the first observation i'd make. They did not give a damn about the blasts gossip girl made (there were instances that would upset them but it wouldn't take over their life), however they did use it to their advantage.

2

Media is your downfall but it is also your biggest weapon.

As much as they didn't pay much heed to Gossip Girl, they'd leverage it to get their narrative across- wrong or not.

This happens in media as well, magazines and entertainment news sites are not only rumour spreaders, they can be effectively used to control your narrative. So you must be strategic about it. This is pretty much what PR teams do. And this is why celebrities spend millions of dollars on these people. They are strategists.

3

People pleasing is impossible. Stop caring what others think- or say

It's lonely at the top, so it should be obvious that not everyone will understand your position or like that you hold it. But it is how it is, so start living for yourself and YOUR purpose rather than caring what other people think of thing you do.

4

Create a brand. You are unique. Trademark your energy.

Serena Van Der Woodsen: it girl, martinis, gold, paparazzi, free spiritedness, VS energy, glitters and sparkles, nyc at night, dream girl

Blair Waldorf: sleepovers, headbands, satin, cartier, henry bendel, bergdorf, louboutins, schemer, macaroons, audrey hepburn

Nate Archibald: guy next door, blue, old money, prince charming, basketball, kindness, dream guy

Chuck Bass: business, scotch, womanizer, fur coats, i'm chuck bass, scandal, strategist, bad boy, private jets, limos, womanizer

Dan Humphrey: writer, the "good" guy, outcast turned insider, nyu, playwright, chinese take out

I don't gotta explain, you know exactly what i mean.

5

Strategy strategy strategy

Everything is strategy, business, academia, entertainment, sports. EVERYTHING. It's not a day on the upper east side without strategy, so even fame needs strategy on the behind. Marketing and creative needs to be well thought out, the way to rack up sales does, even preparing for your mid terms or scoring a goal or even winning an f1 race. Strategy. Is. Everything.

And that concludes my post. Lemme know what you think!

Masterlist here

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[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (Part XXVI)

XXVI. If that's a Savior...

MASTERLIST

Summary: Everything you know on survival is put to the test as you find yourself in a leader-less, unstable, enemy territory

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, THIS IS HEAVY, THIS CHAPTER WILL INCLUDE, torture, cursing, threats, several beatings, branding with iron, dark themes, will feature the Sanctuary, so, everything dark that comes with it, branding with hot iron, might miss some important warnings, but you know what this is about

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Reader has the mouth of a sailor, just like me muahaha. 

You came to your senses when someone grabbed your limp body from what you guessed was the back of the truck, you felt cold, and… they handled you poorly as they dragged your feet in the air while they grabbed you by your arms. 

You felt the moaning of walkers, feet walking on cement, big metal doors opening, but when you thought you opened your eyes you still couldn’t see anything, they had placed some sort of potato sack over your head.

“Who the hell is that?”

“We want to talk to the boss”, said one of your captors. 

“Negan is not here”

“We are all Negan asshole”

“Hey gents!”, said a fourth person, “I’m Negan, what’s up?’

“We bought a guest that we thought Negan would like to meet”

“Are you an idiot? you never bring people back here!”, you heard an annoyed voice, and then, the hood they placed over your head was removed, “well shit! unless they look like that!”. a man was standing right in front of you, he was lean and tall, wearing an indiana jones kinda outfit and a horseshoe kinda mustache, he was… middle aged?, you were guessing early fifties. He was very creepy looking

“My oh my!”, he said, in a very exaggerated way, “and who this might be?”

“We found her in sector 8”, said one of those clowns trying to be professional, “wouldn’t tell us where her people is”

“Is that right sweetheart?”, he asked

“I tried to tell Thing One and Thing Two that I’m alone, but they decided to clog me and bring me here”, you said, annoyed, he looked back at you, theatrically pretending to think about this “dilemma”

“Oh I see”, he said, “so I guess you didn’t tell them”

“I did”, you said with a fake smile. Trying to act as you were not scared to death. You were in some sort of factory, this thing was huge. They led you in, to what would be the operation floor of the factory, and oh Gods… This was a huge operation, and barely an hour out from Alexandria, well, the town, so maybe two hours or so, you lost consciousness, but it was still early on the day. The thing was fill to the brim with people, and some of them were armed to the teeth, and this main dude looked like a maniac

You could not break

You couldn’t tell them what you knew, where you came from, where you were.

“I’m alone”, you said softly, “I scavenge for a living, never stay put in one place”, you said with certainty. 

You couldn’t help but hug yourself, as a shiver ran down through you when you realized…

You couldn’t see a way out of this one

He analyzed you, looked down at you with piercing dark eyes, seeing every reaction, every movement of your face, he seemed like he could see your very thoughts. He passed one of his skinny arms over your shoulders. 

“Well, I have to say… those guys…”, he hissed theatrically, “not the brightest bulbs in the box”, he whispered to your ear, “sorry about that…”, he placed his finger strategically where a bruise had formed in the side of your head. You hissed in pain, trying to release yourself from his hold. “Well!”, he said, so suddenly it made you jump, releasing you, “if you are alone in the world, we can remedy that! right?”, he asked those who were near, “we are The Saviors for a reason!”

No, no, no, no, the more you’ll see, the less are the chances of them letting you leave with the information you were going to collect

“Let me give you a nice little tour”, he offered, you shook your head

“I’d really like to get going”, you said, seeing as you were barely on the entrance

“Nonsense”, he said quickly

“Yes it will get dark and I need to get my things and find shelter”, you said, you took a step back, but immediately felt a thick presence behind you. There was a tall, big guy

Now you were scared, you took shaky breaths, you felt your heart beating 

“Now darling do you really expect me to believe you are out there alone?”, he asked mockingly, “you don’t strike me as the type who would survive out there”, you were getting tired of hearing that, “and your clothes are all cleaned up…”, he leaned in, sniffing your shoulder, “is that freakin’ Tide?”, he asked. This guy did not know personal space, and that scared the crap out of you.

“I got lucky”, you mumbled, “in my last raid”, you said, but he chuckled darkly

“You don’t have to be afraid sweetheart”, he said, he leaned in, he was really creepy, “tell me where it is, the place you called home”, you shook your head slowly.

“Such a place doesn’t exist”, you mumbled, “I’m alone, wandering, my people are dead, we got overrun, months ago”, you said quickly.

“Well!”, he said, making you jump, “if that’s the case….”, he spread his arms as you pointed at the whole factory, “you can join us!”, he said quickly. You looked back nervously

“Is not like you are giving me much of a choice”, you said

“Fat Joey, leave the lady alone, don’t you see you are making her uncomfortable?”, he said simply, the big man only chuckled and backed away a few steps. “Let me show you around”, he said with a crazy smile, he grabbed you by your injured shoulder, it didn’t hurt anymore so long you didn’t… You hissed and that made him stop, so he grabbed the neck of your shirt and opened it until he saw the wound. 

He laughed again, the very sound made you tremble

“And who might have patch you up, uh? if you are all alone?”, he asked

“I did”, you said firmly

“Front… and back?”, he kept going, he grabbed you and made you walk… each step you took, each room you saw, each person you watched walk by with a gun, you were getting more and more scared… oh gods, this place was a menace.

“We are dedicated to the protection of communities all over the state”, he said, against trying to sound professional, “As nobody told you before, this place, is the Sanctuary, we, are the saviors”

“That’s just misleading propaganda”, you said, “you save shit”, he laughed at your humorless joke.

“We saved you darling!”, he said. You got to one of the top floors, to some very luxurious apartments, until you reached a big room, with couches, fancy furniture, a bar even, and existing in it, where there were beautiful ladies.

“This… are Negan’s wives”, he said

“Wives? like… plural…?”, you asked, disgusted, they didn’t even look at you, they kept doing what they were doing, there was one crying in the corner.

“Look I usually don’t do this, and I’m in no position to offer for you to become one of Negan’s wives, or… you could be one of mine”, it was your turn to laugh. 

“You don’t even know me”, you said

“Well, you have been out there, alone, carrying some cool ass weapon, you are a looker for sure”, you winced, this guy was really creepy. but your face of disgust was clearly noticeable, so he hissed and kept going, you humiliated him, thankfully in private. Well, not in private, a woman and the man that was nicknamed Fat Joey were walking behind you closely.

“Be a soldier then”, he said, as he kept walking to the inferior levels. “You will live like a freakin’ Queen, respected, anything you want will be yours”

“And what does being a soldier entails?”, you asked him, now, you were learning

“You go and do as Negan commands”, he said simply, “Or…”

“Door number three?”, you asked him, “I wonder behind which door you let me go on my merry way”, you mocked

“If you have a special skill you will become a worker and work for points!”, he said.

“Points?”, you asked him back, not impressed

“But you can clearly be a soldier”, he said. You did not like this at all, this man seemed determined, he was not this Negan person but he was high in the chain of command, if not the second in command, and he wanted to climb up, giving you these creepy proposals. To you, a stranger. 

You walk back to the inferior levels as he kept yapping about the orders of things and they believed in. And you had dictated in your head, that they were a terrible threat, if they came across Alexandria you stood no chance against them. 

You came back to the main floor, where the heat of things was. 

“You didn't tell me your name darling”, he asked, and you calculated that you could not possibly push him down the stairs with a kick and not suffer the consequences. 

“You didn’t tell me yours”, you said back, frowning

“I’m Negan”, he said simply, you frowned when you looked at him. You stood on some sort of balcony. 

“You are not Negan”, you said, “you are just some type of henchmen”, you admitted, you had ears and you were not an idiot. He deadass laughed in your face, but his eyes were like crazy eyes, you had seen a lot of those since the world collapsed.

“Hey!”, he screamed, the factory floor stopped and looked at you both, “WHO ARE YOU!?”, he asked out loud. 

“Negan!”, they all said at the same time. He turned back to you, smiling

“Nice cult you got here”, you said with a exaggerated smile, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get a ride back into town”, you mocked, “and out of here”

“After seeing all this you don’t wanna’ stay?”, he asked, he leaned in even more, you could feel his minty breath on your face, “You know what that tells me?”, he asked all dandy, “You have a camp, don’t you? a nice one at that”, you cursed yourself for having such a “readable” face

“I’m better off on my own”, you said quickly

“No, you see, I don’t think that’s it”, he said, always exaggerating with his body language, “you are eager to leave, that tells me someone is waiting for you, maybe a Mr? Or Mrs”, he said with his hands in the air, “I don’t judge”, he smiled creepily at you, “where’s your camp?”, you looked at him dead in the eye

“I don’t have one”, you weren’t lying, it wasn’t a camp

“Damn you’re good”, he exclaimed. “Look, I don’t wanna hurt you”, he said dangerously, “I can get my men to squeeze it out of you, I don’t want to do that… now… show me the place you call home”, he said, dangerously slow. Your hair in the back of your head stood up, goosebumps down your arms. You shook your head

Who the fuck do he thinks he is?

“I’m alone”, you said shakily. He closed his eyes, like asking someone else to give him patience.

“Arat!”, he called and a woman showed up, “this is our new guest, show her to her suite”, he demanded. If he thought than a tiny woman was going to make you do anything, he was sorely mistaken, with a kick you made her fall on her ass on the metal stairs, you turned to him quickly, kicking him in the shin, when he folded in pain, you grabbed his head and smacked it against the metal railing

Sounded like a freakin’ bong

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”, you demanded, but now you had like 6 assault rifles pointing at you , Fat Joey grabbing you and pulling backwards. 

“ARAT!”, he screamed, like he was in a tantrum. You looked to your right and the same woman punched you in the face with the butt of a gun. This time, you didn’t lose consciousness, but fuck it hurt, she and Joey grabbed you and dragged you through the hallways

“Leave me alone!”, you demanded.

She opened a door and they threw you in there like you were a sack of potatoes, and closed the door behind them. This was some sort of broom closet, no windows, only one door, 2x2mtrs.

Oh now you were truly fucked. 

Someone came pounding on the door.

“YOU ARE GOING TO TELL ME WHERE THE FUCK YOUR COMMUNITY IS! OR YOU ARE GOING TO JOIN US, OR YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN!”, that guy screamed into the door

“FUCK YOU!”, you screamed, “Why don’t you open the door so I can ring your bell a couple of more times, uh!? [YOU MELANCHOLIC CLOWN]!”, you let out a string of ugly curses in your native language, as you tried to kick the door down.

Simon heard you from the outside of the door, so enraged he wanted to strangle you

“She is just a child, having a tantrum”, said Gavin, who had witnessed the whole thing, “the best thing you can do, is… let her scream her rage out of her, in a couple of hours, she will be exhausted, ready for a bit more of… convincing”, he said, and left the scene, already stressed and bored of it.

Oh gods, you started to panic, quickly, telling him where Alexandria is was out of the question, and you started to wonder if Daryl had already knew you were gone, and what he would do… in some other lights you wonder if they were going to come looking for you, and a part of you, a big part, wished they didn’t, because they were never gonna be able to do it without losing people, oh gods, where they even going to know where to look?

Carol saw everything went down, was she going to tell Daryl? Yeah, I mean she didn't like you but she didn’t want you ‘dead’, right?. Oh gods what was Daryl going to do? you hoped he didn’t “lose it” much. 

Oh Daryl

What if you never see him again?

You didn’t want this to be the way your story was going to end, you wanted to see him again, see where your story goes, you loved him, you pictured a future, in this crappy world where every new day you got to walk the earth was a mix between luck, skill and fate or something like that. Even then, you imagined a future with him. it involved a nice small house, with a single open space for living room, dining room and kitchen, and one room, maybe two, you imagined you’d have a dog, even though you were more of a cat person, and… big windows, and a big garage where Daryl can work on his bike and…

A single tear rolled down your cheek

Oh gods you were scared

Sometimes, even though you didn’t admit it to yourself… in the corner of your imaginary room you’d put a little crib, although you could never picture anything beyond that, it was silly… you had been together together for merely weeks… but since the very first moment you saw him, that night where your lives were endangered… you were done for, an unbreakable bond was formed between you two. 

He was the one for you

Two days ago you were having baby-making sex and now… you were hold hostage by a freakin’ cult

After testing all the possibilities of getting out, that being through the only door, and failing miserably, you had dropped, tired, hungry… and angrier…

But eventually as the hours passed, your anger passed, and left you literally cold in there, the sweat in your skin that had gathered there because of your efforts cooled you in a negative way, and now you were shaking on the floor

And those bastards left you there for the rest of what you guessed… was a day. 

You still got a bit of light from around the frame of the door and a dirty little window that wouldn’t allow you to see the exterior, but eventually that shut down as well… that’s how you know it was “night”, you could say that you weren’t afraid of the dark, you had grown accustomed to the monsters that hid in it, but this dark… This empty darkness was something else entirely. 

Eventually you fell asleep

You were woken up by the door opening, and because of the fear that enveloped you, you remembered the knives you had hidden in your boots, you could still feel them, so you stood still. 

Fat Joey came in the door, he had a paper plate with a “sandwich on it”, he offered it to you, and only because of the smell you knew exactly what it was… You only looked at his entertained face with a frown.

“Wow!”, said Simon, when he saw Fat Joey entering the meeting room, “what the hell happened to you?”, he laughed, as he had a footprint occupying the half of his face, because of the kick you had happily given him.

“Our guest did not liked her breakfast”, he said 

“Is that so?”, he asked, with a mix of entertainment and rage

“When is Negan coming back?”, asked Gavin

“I’m Negan”, said Simon, his counterpart just rolled his eyes.

“The real one”

“He is playing his game, he will come, soon”, he looked at Arat, “it’s time we start our own games”

You were not making yourself any favors by punching every person that happened to enter your space, it wasn’t going to last, you were starving and you didn’t have much strength 

So you were not prepared for when the next group of people came. It was the same woman A rat? Was he calling her a rat? Whatever, with another guy, you got a couple of good licks in, you didn’t kill them, or stabbed them of gravity, but you scratched them good, you managed to advance a couple of feet beyond your entrapment, and then, they pushed you back in.

The trio that came to “see you” next, were armed to the teeth, and they… beat you up

“Tell me where your camp is, bitch!”, and others were exchanged.

Now you were laying on the floor, your body hurt so much you couldn’t move it, and they had taken… most of your clothes, your boots, your jacket, your hoodie, leaving you with a plain loose t shirt and your pants. No boots, no socks

Then A-rat came back

“i didn’t want to do this”, oh but she stood back and watched, smiling, as they kicked your ass

“You are enjoying this”, they didn’t punch you in the face, they didn't want to ruin it for Negan they said. 

“Yeah I gotta say… I enjoy seeing how they beat up a stuck up bitch”, you chuckled humorlessly, “tell me where your stuck up camp is”, she said. 

“I can tell you were to fuck off to”, you offered, and you could tell she was keeping herself from beating you up some more. 

“Tell me where it is, so you can go back to it”, she said, “we’ll leave you alone”

“If you want to go all the way to Atlanta to a run down camp, be my guest”, you muttered. “I’ve been alone since then, months”, you muttered, “I thought DC was the answer”, you whispered

“I don’t believe you”, she said, “you look, well… looked all fancy and clean”, she said through gritted teeth

“It’s not my fault I can put 2 and 2 together and raid a house properly”

“Well then”, she said simply, “Let’s say I believe you, then join us”

“So far I’m not very convinced about my welcome package”, you mumbled, “what the fuck do I have to do for you to release me, dammit! I didn’t do anything to you”, you said angrily. 

“Ah there it is”, she said with a sick smile, “I’ll leave you another day so you can think about what’s been offered to you”, you only grunted as she left you in the darkness again.

And the next time they left you a bottle of water and a dog food sandwich

You ate it

You don’t remember when you woke up, you don’t remember when you started crying, you don’t remember when you started to lose it. 

You had tried to keep it together but you couldn’t, your body was in pain, and your mind was gripped tightly by fear

But you had eaten a sandwich and slept a lot, and drank water, so the next time they came, you wore a smile on your face and a “fuck you” in your eyes.

“There she is, miss stuck up bitch”, she said

“Oh, a rat”, you said back

“think about what you are going to answer me?”, she said

“There is something you can answer me”, you said, because if you were not going to give them Alexandria, you could give them something else, “that Toyota Tacoma, with the M2 on the back, where did you get it?”, you asked, she seemed surprised by your question, but then she hid that

“I don’t answer SHIT to you”, you said, but could barely hide her excitement

“How boring”, you muttered, she grabbed you by your face then

“Answer me”, she said, “where’s your people? I bet they are all fancy, like you”, you chuckled

“You have no idea”, you said, she released you, making you hit your head against the cement wall, “where’s Negan?”, you asked, “I gotta say, I’m curious”

“I’m the one asking the questions”, she said

“Watch me, where did you get the Tacoma?”, you asked her again

“Shut up!”, she said, she raised from the floor, and left you without another word.

If you had to guess, they gave you a sandwich a day, so they gave you two more, and a pill you identified as paracetamol for the pain. So three days or so since they took you. 

On the fourth day, the door opened again, and when you looked up, you managed to exhale all the air in your lungs.

“You”, you mumbled. 

“Hell on earth, it’s you”, he said with a grave voice, and a dumb smirk on his face

“Son of a bitch”, you cursed

“It’s you alright”, he laughed, “I came all the way from my outpost once I heard”

“These bastards don’t know who I am”, you said

“Oh but you asked about our truck”, he said. You exchanged looks, he was amused, you were fucking angry, this rapacious rat bastard 

“You left Pope”, you accused, after a while, “you abandoned him”

“Really? haven’t seen each other in over a year and your first thing you recriminate me for is that big whiny bastard?”, he chuckled,

“The only whiny bastard in the squad was you”, you said, looking up at him, he really hadn't change a thing, “found him turned in the bathroom”, you said

“Wasn’t even strong enough to end himself”, he said, you frowned

“Why’d you leave him?”, you asked. You never rehearsed what you were gonna say when you met him again, because never in a thousand years you’d thought you’d see him again

“You know? I don’t feel like answering your shitty questions right now”, he said mockingly, “but you can answer mine”

“Same shit different flies then”, you mumbled

“Where’s your group?”, he asked

“Where’s your balls?”, you asked him back with a smile, “I have been alone since we split”, you said, "I walked all the way here…”

“I don’t believe you”, he said, crouching until he was on your height, “you always needed a big man to protect you, since day one”

“Fuck you”, you said back, “why did you left Pope?”, you asked him

“Where’s your people?”

“WHY DID YOU LEFT POPE?”, you asked him back, he laughed. You breathed heavily, even if it pained you, your ribs were bruised

“Wherever they are…”, he said, “whoever they are…”, he kept going, “they cannot take us down, rather they work for us or we kill them, that’s how it works”, he said

“Yep, this group sounds like your speed”, you said, “you ever only cared about yourself”, he only laughed at you

“Look around, at the end of the day, there’s only yourself to live for…”

“I feel sorry for you”, you accused, he looked down at you and laughed

“You are so predictable”, he said, “you can’t be alone, that’s why, you have a camp filled with people don’t you?”, he was mocking you now, “i bet you are a family…”, he said with a mocking voice, pouting at the end

“No”, you said back, looking straight at him

“You are gonna like being a savior then”, he said, with a smile, “I always saw the excited look on your face when you took fuckers hundreads at a time”, he said, “it gets you off”. he said smiling, “you can do it here… with better machinery, oh, we have all the toys”, he said

“You are never going to believe that I’m alone”, you said, “so what, i’m supposed to join you?”

“Oh well, Negan is going to be thrilled with you”, he said, “I know he will, he will have you on your knees”

“Riddle me this, who out of the both of us needs a man to protect him then?”, you asked him, wiping his smirk off of his face, “it seems to me that the only one who’s gonna be kneeling here is you”, you laughed. He grabbed you by the neck.

“You'll join us or you will fucking die”, he said, he raised you from the ground, having you grabbed by the neck. “You abandoned our group”, he said, as he dragged you out of your cell, “you never get married to anyone, or anything, do you? always with scaping plans in your mind? well, not this time”

“Fuck you!”, you cursed, he dragged you back to the main floor, everybody was gathered around a huge oven, you didn't even know what it was called. Even the wives of Negan were there, they loved a show , didn't they?

This wasn’t about your community anymore. These were sadist sons of bitches, and they wanted to dominate you and communities alike. 

The rat was waiting for you, with a sickening smile on her face. Baer put you on a chair in front of the oven, the heat making your skin prickle. 

“This is happening because this woman doesn’t want to tell us where her people are, so we can save them!”, said that creepy guy, “she abandoned our beloved Baer in Atlanta, and… well, she beat Fat Joey, Nick, Arat and MIckey up and we just cannot allow that!”, you laughed when you saw the bruise you left on his face, this was just bananas.

Arat came for you and grabbed you by the back of your head.

“You think you're better than us?”, she asked, clawing at you, her nails digging on your skin, your scalp was burning at this point

“Oh I know I am”, you spitted out 

“Let’s see about that”, she said, the hate, the disdain in her voice, a week ago you had never seen this woman in your entire life. You had never done anything to her, “thinking yourself too good to be a wife of our leader? our savior?”

“Oh this IS a cult”, you groaned 

“... or being a soldier?”

“Fuck you!”, you said quickly, she pulled your head backwards making you grunt in desperation, “I’m not a soldier, I’m a friend, a sister, a daughter, a fucking designer”, you said, “...I’m a lover, I’m a fucking survivor”, you winked at her. Baer appeared in your sights again, he came to her, with a sick smile on his face and a hot iron on his hands

You squirmed, moved desperately trying to release yourself. It was a brand, you could see two letters shining bright orange because of the temperature

“No, no, no”, you grunted, but another set of hands came to grab you and keep you still, “NO! NO!”, you screamed at the top of your lungs as Arat uncovered your left arm, she grabbed your hand and pulled, making you show her your forearm, “I swear I’ll fucking put my ax trough your fucking skull”, you threatened, “of all of you!”

“For you to never forget who you belong to”, and she pressed the hot Iron into your skin.

You had never felt a pain as strong as this one, she burned you with a fucking brand like you would cattle. 

Your scream of pain resounded all over the factory. 

They dropped you back in that cell, you were so exhausted, your body so traumatized that you felt like it had numbed itself not to feel anymore. 

And while you were laying there, you looked at your arm, where two initials were now branded on your skin

NS

PCN: Thing 1 and Thing 2 hahaha I want to let you know that everything that Simon said, was suposed to be Negan, I had written this before anything else on this story... SO, it was going to be Negan but I played it both ways with having him infiltrate Alexandria, so it had to be Simon, funny enough... didn't feel the need to change anything... he wants to be Negan so bad its sad

@crazyunsexycool @capricxnt

[bestworstcase]

So, I recently read your post regarding the Adam short, the WF and Remnants broad sweep of treating children more like tiny adults ETC and found a lot of it deeply insightful and interesting!

However, I feel its worth noting that even before killing that guy Adam was already building a splinter cell/personality cult in Ghira's White Fang with Sienna no where in sight. One rooted in making Faunus resemble monsters to create terror.

Also the comics definitely make it clear Adam was specifically targeting and grooming Blake from day one I feel. Kali & Blakes interactions on that front were really good as well.

i haven’t read the comics myself so i don’t have an opinion on how they handle the characters or the specific dynamic between adam and blake.

wrt to adam and the grimm masks, though: while adam was definitely the one who started it, it’s shown to be something that was not a secret (except for ghira and sienna, all the WF characters are masked in the next scene) and it’s also strategically a good idea to hide your face while engaging in direct action. & the reasoning blake recounts to sun in V2 (“humans wanted to make monsters of us, so we chose to don the faces of monsters”) is an echo of what oobleck says of the WF in v1 (that bigotry and persecution is what pushes people subjected to it to resort to violence).

the point of the grimm masks isn’t to cause terror but rather to demand attention and make a statement without sacrificing the anonymity that keeps the members of the white fang safe: it’s “if fighting back makes us monsters, then monsters we will be.”

(there are also perhaps deeper underlying cultural narratives about grimm and faunus being tapped into—“among beasts and monsters” and all, the dehumanization of faunus is intertwined with the cultural belief that grimm prey upon humans specifically with faunus being at best caught in the crossfires; so i’d argue the grimm masks are motivated in part by reclaiming that narrative and turning it into a weapon for the faunus)

all of which is especially salient to adam because a human literally branded his face. his choice to cover the scar with a grimm-like mask carries a lot of emotional weight; he is taking what humans did to him and turning it into a symbol of the faunus cause that will make it impossible for humans to look the other way—as humans no doubt looked the other way when he was attacked.

that’s why i think narratively it’s important that adam came up with the grimm masks before the turning point that incited his gradual corruption into someone driven by spite and hatred; ghira accepted the adoption of grimm masks by rank-and-file members because because they served the narrative and the strategic ends his white fang was trying to advance. it’s only after ghira leaves and adam increasingly loses that strategic focus and becomes consumed by spiteful vengeance that the red detailing begins to appear on the masks as a visual symbol for the corruption of his original purpose. bc there’s a difference between saying “if you’re going to treat me like a monster for defending myself, i will proudly continue to defend myself because you are wrong” and “anything i do to you is justified by what i suffered.” and adam’s arc is about the slow corruption of the first thing into the second.

[nextstop-fixationstation]

Do you think Sasha's blatant dismissiveness of Marcy's interests was just a testament to her inability to care for things that didnt interest her, or do you think, perhaps, it's something that was developed over time as Marcy didn't stop trying to get them to watch War of Warlocks and play creatures and caverns?

I ask because, if I'm not mistaken, Matt once said they would sometimes play games together when they were alone and I always found it odd how the strategic side of CC didn't appeal to Sasha, which got me thinking if she didn't feel somewhat put off by Marcy's approach to the situation?

I quite like this interpretation because it adds another layer to their communication issues, but pre-amphibia Sasha definitely looked like someone who didn't give a chance to things that didn't outright interest her.

Sorry for the long ask and I hope I made sense here!

Thanks for the ask!

to be honest, I don't think it has anything to do with inability to care or reaction to Marcy's insistence that they watch WoW/play CC. I think that this is much more a testament to the state of their overall relationship, which allowed Marcy to do things no one wanted to do in their presence and allowed Sasha to be kind of mean about it, all while Anne panicked about how to handle the situation on the sidelines.

Sasha still played games and watched the film, paying attention enough to know the plot twist at the end and to know what kinds of things Marcy liked, she just wasn't very nice about it. I think it's more of a testament to how people can get comfortable with being casually mean to each other or bully each other even if they don't actually enjoy it. In the same way, it's easy for people to settle into a routine of being fine going through the motions during shared activities instead of discussing with each other and finding things everyone can enjoy. In Marcy's Journal, Marcy talks about how they all come to terms with the fact CC isn't something they all enjoy, and Marcy resolves to find something they can all do together!

(Also, and this is an aside, I suppose, very little is actually said about Sasha and CC, and it is the case IRL that sometimes people just don't like a game system. Sasha could have liked the strategy but hated the RP or vice versa, or the dice and number system could have been too frustrating for her to enjoy. D&D has strategy and RP elements, but it's far from the best in either direction. If you wanted a pure strategy game, you could probably just go back to Chess, and if you wanted a better RP system, you could almost certainly find a better one out there by an indie creator or big company! D&D just has brand recognition.)

I think that when it comes to Sasha, it's important to note that Sasha's character and arc don't pertain very much to the concept of pure "interest." That's a very "Marcy" or "Anne" thing. While everyone in the Calamity Trio has something to do with attachment, Sasha has much more to do with power and control. Sasha and Marcy maintain a relationship wherein they don't question each other and just go along with what the other does, backing them up even if they don't care about or for what they're doing. It's why Marcy has so much confidence that Anne and Sasha will be okay with the plan with Andrias, and it's why Sasha is so convinced that Anne and Marcy will just go along with her coup. This is a flaw in their relationship, not a feature.

Perhaps Sasha wouldn't give things she didn't care about a chance if she didn't feel it interested her, but I think it's probably more accurate to frame it as it being ignored if it wasn't beneficial. Canonically, we actually see that Sasha pays great attention to things that seem to disinterest her, even if it doesn't feel that way! That's part of what makes Sasha so interesting, at least to me

[warcorrespondence]

review: come and make the hymns of you

alert the press, everyone! bel ep6bastogne is come and make the hymns of youposting again 🚨🚨🚨 if you've been around for a second you know i'm categorically incapable of shutting up about this fic by yourblues / @msmargaretmurry. a portion of my brain is i think permanently devoted to it. there's like an altar in there and everything. this fic is my gospel. i've recommended it to many, many friends, hbowar affiliation or not, so it seems on-brand and only right to formally recommend it to you all now, once again.

fandom: band of brothers

pairing: webgott

mature, 24610 words

we find web back at harvard after the war, having A Bit Of A Time readjusting to civilian life. he goes to his classes, goes to the corner deli, goes home, and our man can't stop strategizing and looking for cover every step of the way. he sends lieb a letter in some attempt at, to borrow a phrase from the fic, exorcising one particular demon from the war. when lieb unexpectedly shows up on his doorstep about it, web's forced to answer for it.

yourblues absolutely masters voice here--the fic is from web's pov, and his inner monologue is filled with a kind of romanticism and sensory awareness/descriptiveness that feels so true. plus, the numerous excerpts of web's writing throughout feel incredibly faithful to that hyperconscious, self-censoring, well-read character we all know and love. but lieb is also beautifully written, funny and sharp and mean, and with such a striking tenderness swimming just underneath it all. these two spar throughout but also handle one another so incredibly gently, and the richness of language here plays in fabulous contrast to the fact that so much remains unsaid. have one of my favorite snippets, as an amuse-bouche, that cuts such a deep insight about lieb that i permanently associate it with him as a character:

One secret that David keeps safely tucked away is that Joe can be an arrestingly gentle person. It is not something Joe particularly tries to hide; it’s just so at odds with the louder parts of him that people seem to miss it, and so it feels like precious knowledge. It is something that caught David’s interest, even when they were mere acquaintances existing in the same battalion and then company, the way Joe’s hands went soft and precise on the men’s heads when he cut their hair, the way his sharpness shifted when handling wounded comrades. This is what David thinks about, now, as he measures coffee grounds into the percolator on his stove. He thinks about how even as the Krauts hammered Joe harder and sharper every day, that softness stayed intact, curled up tight inside him. That’s where his anger lives. Not in the hard outer shell. In the softness.

if you read this fic, or you have read it and just need someone to gush with, you have an open invitation to hit my line so we can emote about it together.

x 🔔

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Dramione Blurbs

Blurb 7.5

Draco cursed under his breath as he took in the ghastly sight before him.

Harry was setting up a barrier to prevent contamination, already spelling their feet with the same kind of charm.

Draco’s gloved hand held the wand tight in his hand as he pushed a lock of hair away from the woman’s bare chest.

The mark was there, burned into her chest but it was sloppy. The six petals of the flower inside of the circle were distorted. Perhaps the victim had fought back, or his hand was unsteady.

Draco looked at her hands, cold and rigid at her sides. A broken nail, blood.

Yes. This witch had fought back.

Potter sidled up to him and knealt onto his haunches. “Beckett is handling the Muggles.” He nodded toward the house, where a small family had been sitting, terrified, waiting for the authorities.

The Muggle police had been intercepted. Dawlish, having taken Draco’s advice, put a tap onto their lines, alerting the DMLE when an police officer called the crime in.

The original cop on the scene was immediately obliviated by Beckett as they entered the crime scene.

But there wasn’t just the family inside to worry about. There was an entire neighborhood of onlookers. “We’re going to need more than just Beckett.”

“Yeah.” Potter agreed. “He’s obtaining their memories before he obliviates them.”

Draco stood and sighed as he looked around the scene. There was, at least, a wall that blocked off most of the view of the spectators.

His eyes scanned the wall and that was when he found it.

Blood.

Only a speck of it, really, but it was there. But was it the victims or the killers?

Draco hurried over to the wall and began to cut into the wall with the tip of his wand. The speck of blood was small, about the size of a sickle.

“Malfoy,” Harry called but his voice sounded disturbed. A warning lilt to it.

Draco turned to find him staring down at something in his gloved hand.

“What is it?” He hurried over to him and eyed the bloody, crumpled paper in his hand.

On the paper, written in blood were three words.

STOP SPREADING EVIL

Draco stiffened. “Whose blood is that?” He leaned down to check the victim for wounds. She had none aside from the sloppy brand on her chest. With his gloves hands, he carefully rolled her onto her side and still found no visible wounds.

“Check her mouth.” Harry rasped.

He did. After carefully laying her back in the position she was found in, Draco gently pressed down on her chin with one finger, her upper lip on the other.

Draco hissed and jerked back, nearly falling on his ass. Half of her tongue was missing, the remaining chunk black and grotesque and swollen against inside of her blood stained mouth.

Harry covered his mouth with the back of his arm and stepped away from the body. “We need a forensics unit.” Harry murmured and whistled for Beckett who had just stepped out the front door of the home.

All of the cases he had been tracking ran through his mind. This murder occurred too soon after Bitley’s to be consistent with the killer’s typical timeline. And the sloppy brand on her chest, the removal of her tongue only told him that something was pushing this dark wizard to move faster. Less strategic.

Which only made him more dangerous.

Draco stood up and lifted his face to the sky, trying to inhale fresh air.

The body, though they set a preservation charm onto the body, was already decomposing.

“Granger lives alone?” He asked when he lowered his head and looked at Potter.

Harry nodded, arm still pressed against his nose.

“You need to move her into your house.”

Potters eyes widened, but only a little. “I doubt she’ll agree.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Draco’s jaw worked as he considered where she might be now. Even though he knew that Theo was a capable wizard. Deadly, even, when one was to consider Theo’s background. Not only was he raised by a maniac who ensure his son was well versed in all dark magic, but after Hogwarts, Theo had done work across the world, protecting the rich and powerful.

“I’d suggest my home but I’m certain that she wont only tell me to fuck off, she’s likely to hex me.”

Harry dropped his arm and turned his head up toward the sky. “You’re instincts are right. But,” He shook his head and sighed. “She’ll definitely put up a fight.”

Draco shrugged. “I look forward to it.”

[dannyphannypack]

Happy Holiday Truce @ghozteevee !

I'm so sorry about the wait! I'd say the holidays got away from me, but I think procrastination is pretty true-to-form for me. Something I'll definitely work on in the New Year. I really hope it's still January 3rd for you!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little story <3 I took some inspo from two of your prompts: post identity reveal family outing and sibling bonding. The sibling bonding is in the first quarter or so, the parental bonding is in the last bit. Also, the conclusion definitely ran away from me! Very Brother Bear vibes up in here. I hope that's okay!

Enjoy! :3

Word Count: 3280

Danny gasped awake with a shiver, barely catching the green of his eyes as it caught on the shiny, canvassed ceiling of their tent. His breath fogged in front of him, visible in the quickly dimming glow. It served as a warning of what he already knew had awoken him, but it was nice to get the confirmation anyway: there was a ghost nearby.

He rubbed the crust from his eyes as he allowed his brain time to wake up the rest of the way. The good news was that it didn’t feel like anything overly powerful. The bad news was that if it tripped his Ghost Sense, then it was powerful enough—and more than likely causing havoc, because it was clearly feeling some big emotions and those emotions usually amounted to some brand of anger. It also felt distinctly feral, and given their locale, it was safe to bet it was an animal spirit of some kind. Those could be especially unpredictable, and he wasn’t in the mood.

Danny looked over at the sleeping bag where his sister slept—seeing in the dark hadn’t been a problem for a long time, with or without the aid of glowing eyes—and he watched the slow rise and fall of her chest as she quietly snored. Now, whether or not to wake her was the question. The Ghost Assault Vehicle would be the safest place for her if things went haywire, but undoubtedly she’d be worried and clingy and want to help, which he also wasn’t in the mood for.

Ultimately, though, safety overruled whatever annoying sibling feelings she might stir up. Danny dislodged himself from his own sleeping bag and crawled across the floor to her, the waterproof fabric beneath him making rustling noises all the way.

“Psst,” he whispered, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Jazz.”

“Whazzat?” she asked, jerking. “Danny?”

“Hey. There’s a ghost.”

Her eyes blew open. “Like, here? Now?”

Yeah, maybe he could’ve handled that better. “Not yet,” he amended. “But I’m heading out. You should probably get in the Gav, just in case.”

“The G-A-V, Danny, not the ‘Gav.’” It was an old argument, one they hadn’t really argued over in years. Danny figured that Jazz probably found it endearing now that she was out of the house and missing him for most of the year. She sighed as she sat up and reached for the ground, hands fumbling towards her glasses. “You’re going alone? At least tell Mom and Dad first. And help me with a light, please.”

Danny summoned a ball of ectoplasm and sent it floating up towards the domed ceiling, where it lit the whole tent in a dim, soft blue. He grimaced. “I was kind of hoping you’d do that.”

Danny’s parents had been informed of his little secret only a week ago, and all-in-all it had gone down pretty well. The timing had been strategic, of course; Danny was going off to college at the end of the summer, and his parents needed to know why their newest ghostly ally would be disappearing from Amity for the entire school year (barring holidays and emergencies, if all went well). Going to college was a failsafe he knew he hadn’t needed, but wanted anyway—seeing alternate timelines where his parents were accepting of his after-school activities was very different from actually experiencing it in his own, after all. They’d reacted much as expected, though. Surprised. Excited. Sad. Guilt-stricken.

Jazz looked at him with something that bordered on pity, and it made him squirm. “I can if that’s what you really want, Danny,” she allowed. “But you know why I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Okay, no need to get all mopey about it,” Danny deflected, clambering up to his knees (the tent wasn’t tall enough to stand, which kind of put a damper on his whole ‘stoic’ front. Not that he’d admit that). “It just…still feels weird. But I can do it!”

Jazz raised her hands in fake surrender and fought a smile. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a big boy now, I got it.” She unzipped her sleeping bag and cast the cover aside. “I’ll go hide. Though…if it’s big enough that you needed to wake us up, maybe you should do more than just let them know.”

“Like?” Danny asked, just to be obstinate. He knew what Jazz was hinting at.

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Like ask for help, you big dummy.”

Danny sighed. It’d be the first time working with them since…“I don’t know if we’re at that level yet, Jazz.”

“You were before you told them,” Jazz pointed out with a raised brow.

“It’s different,” he stressed.

“Okay, well, different or not, you need to tell them you’re leaving, at the very least.” Jazz crawled over her sleeping bag towards the door and unzipped it with a practiced, fluid motion. “After you,” she said with a dramatic gesture towards the dark campfire and forest beyond.

Danny grumbled as he passed, and once out of the threshold he let the ectoplasmic ball lighting the inside of the tent wink out, just to hear Jazz’s indignant “Hey!” from behind him. Seconds later he heard (and saw) her flashlight click on behind him; ectoplasm-powered and too big for its own good, Danny was sure that thing created its own light pollution. He refused to use it on principle.

Danny walked the short trek to his parents’ tent and crouched to get the zipper, deciding against intangibility just in case one of his parents was awake enough to notice a shadowy silhouette phase through the wall. On the other side, Jack snored with the force of a train engine; Danny could swear it was rattling the zipper out of his hands as he fumbled with it.

The inside was dark, but Jazz’s flashlight outside cast long shadows across the floor. Danny moved out of the way so that the light could hit his parent’s faces; Danny knew his mother would have in ear plugs, so this was really the only safe way of waking her beyond shaking, which Danny knew from experience could be…startling, sometimes.

He watched her brows furrow before her eyes squinted open. She rubbed at her eyes with one hand and took an ear plug out with the other. “Danny? What happened?”

“Um, there’s a ghost,” Danny said (muttered, more like). “I was gonna go—”

“Hold on, I can’t hear you,” Maddie said, turning to shake her husband. “Jack, wake up. Danny needs something.”

“Whazzat?” Jack yelled, in much the same way as Jazz. Like father, like daughter. “What happened?”

“Uh,” Danny said, feeling tenser now with both their attentions on him. “There’s a ghost.” He pointed north. “Half a mile that way, maybe. Getting closer. I was gonna go deal with it, but I told Jazz to get in the RV just in case.”

Maddie frowned. “You were gonna go deal with it? By yourself?”

Danny glanced behind him, where Jazz was giving him a thumbs up from across the campsite. “Um, no,” he lied, turning back around. “You guys can come. If you want. You don’t have to.”

“Of course we want to, Danno!” Jack shouted. He had positively lit up, like grogginess wasn’t and had never been an issue for him. “I’ll go get the Fenton Grappler!”

“Do you know what kind of ghost it is, sweetie?” Maddie asked, still watching him. “What equipment do we need to bring?”

Danny hadn’t thought that far ahead. “It’s an animal, I think. It feels pretty feral. It’s not that strong, either, but—”

“Animal spirits can be unpredictable,” Maddie said, echoing Danny’s earlier considerations. “Alright, we’ll bring the capturing gear.” She paused. “If…that’s okay?”

Danny almost laughed; he’d never heard his mom sound so unsure when it came to ghost hunting. “That sounds good, Mom,” he said. “I’ll go get my boots on.”

— — —

Danny led the way through the timber with his parents, feeling a little silly in human form but unwilling to change nonetheless. It was nice to walk, sometimes, even when flying would be quicker and less taxing. And he could pass his feet intangibly through those pesky fallen branches and thorny bushes, so really it wasn’t all that worse than strolling down an Amity sidewalk. There was, he told himself, no other reason he might want to stay human in this scenario. He certainly wouldn’t feel uncomfortable otherwise.

“Are we getting close, honey?” Maddie asked after helping Jack over a rotted trunk.

The irony wasn’t lost on Danny; he’d asked the same question on the RV ride there. He felt around in his chest, feeling for the speed at which his core buzzed it’s steady warning, the strength of the tug. “Nearly there,” he promised.

“That’s a real neat trick, Danny-boy,” Jack praised. Danny could hear the smile in his voice. “You know, I always wondered how Phantom heard wind of a ghost faster than we did. Didn’t I, Mads?”

Danny kicked at some dead leaves and sticks at the ground, embarrassed. “That ghost alarm you guys developed works similarly. It maybe doesn’t have quite the range, though.”

Maddie hummed, contemplating. “And that’s what woke you up tonight?”

“Yeah.”

Maddie reached out to set her hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He closed his eyes before he turned to face her, bracing. If he hadn’t caught on to the concern in her voice before, he was definitely feeling it now. “How often do ghosts wake you up?” she asked, quiet.

Danny opened his mouth to lie and then thought better of it. That was a habit he was determined to break with his family, whether they’d like the answer or not. “Once or twice a night,” he admitted, slowly. When Maddie made a pained noise, he quickly added, “Usually it’s nothing to worry about, though, so I just go back to sleep. Like, at least half the time.”

She bit her lip. Guilty. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that, hun.”

“Can we not do this?” Danny pleaded. These were the kind of conversations he’d been trying to avoid for the past week. “It’s my fault for not telling you guys, not your fault for not noticing.”

“We know that’s how you feel, Danny,” his mom allowed. She shared a glance with Jack from over her shoulder. “But we can’t help but feel like some of that lies on us, too. For noticing the clues but not acting on them in the ways we should have.”

“We want to know now, though,” Jack said, coming up behind his wife. “Warts and all.”

“Is this an intervention?” Danny asked, nervous. It felt like his core was constricting in his chest. “Because I get enough of that from Jazz.”

“It’s not an intervention,” his mom denied, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s just…Why haven’t you turned into Phantom yet, Danny?”

Danny wasn’t sure if he heard that right. It felt like the conversation had spun 180. “What?” he asked.

“This isn’t exactly an easy hike, sweetie,” she said. “Mostly uphill, through brambles and across fallen trees.”

“It’s been fine,” he argued. “I’ve been phasing through most of it.”

“If we were Tucker or Sam, you would have flown us there,” Maddie finished, and, well, he couldn’t deny that logic. “So why haven’t you?”

Danny frowned. “I didn’t think we were at that stage yet.”

“We’re not on a date, Danny; we’re your parents,” she sighed, shaking her head. “There is nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. I changed your diapers; I should know.”

Danny frowned. If she had said that two weeks ago, before they’d known, he might not have believed her. He did believe her this time, but it was marred by something else—this aching, squeezing feeling in his chest, riddling his core with fear and anxiety and confusion and—

Oh. That wasn’t from him.

“Look out!” Danny yelled, grabbing hold of his parents and shoving them to the ground. His shield came up just in time: a glowing black bear, absolutely massive for its species, came barreling down upon it, scratching and growling and baring sharp, sharp teeth with saber-toothed tiger levels of length. He flinched against its strength but held steady, keeping his hands in front of him to feed ectoplasm into the bubble that surrounded them.

Perhaps realizing that its efforts were futile, the bear backed away, roared once in warning, and then took off running in the opposite direction, taking a moment to pause awkwardly at a hollowed tree stump before disappearing over the hill.

“Okay,” Danny breathed, allowing the shield to dissipate. There was that conversation out the window. He was almost grateful for it; he’d always been better at fighting than he was at talking, and staying human during this battle was quickly becoming a moot point, anyhow. “Alright, here’s the plan: you guys follow from back here, and I’ll fly up and cut it off from the front. Sound good?”

He was about to run off then, but Maddie grabbed his chin and twisted him to face her. Her eyes scanned over him faster than Danny could even blink, checking for injuries at a near-inhuman speed. 

Once he got over his shock at being grabbed, he started to squirm. “Mom, stop. I’m fine,” he murmured, trying to turn away to hide the way embarrassment was quickly flooding his cheeks with red.

Once satisfied, Maddie nodded and placed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Be safe,” she commanded in a no-nonsense voice, like he’d be grounded for a week if he came back injured. Then, she finally let him go.

“You too,” he said, turning away. Squeezing his eyes shut, he transformed—focusing on the way his core bloomed outward instead of the stares on his back—and took off into the air.

Going on a bear hunt. He was sure there was a kid’s song about that.

Danny followed the tug in his gut from the sky; it was even stronger now that he’d transformed and they’d gotten…acquainted, for lack of a better word. He couldn’t shake that weird anxious worry in his gut—the one that seemed to be emanating from the bear in waves—but he could fight through it, and that’s what mattered.

Animal spirits were all instinct and emotion, wrapped up into something tight and cohesive that ectoplasm wouldn’t have trouble latching onto. Usually that something was governed by anger, which, as far as Danny knew, was the strongest emotion in a living animal’s arsenal. Human spirits could end up governed by that too, but there was more nuance to the reasoning behind anger with a person: jealousy, revenge, even loneliness could rearrange into different flavors of the same base emotion. It was easier to assuage because of its complicatedness; when there was a direct physical link to someone’s anger, there was something to solve.

It was more difficult to get angry animal spirits to move on. They were angry at everything and nothing all at once. The whole world fueled their anger, and so there was little that could calm them down.

Fear, though…He’d never met an animal spirit governed by fear, or worry, or whatever anxious instinct this bear’s ectoplasm was releasing. Maybe he could turn this into a happy ending, for both him and the bear. He hoped he could, anyway.

Danny dived down in front of it, and from the way it twisted backwards and picked up its pace in the direction opposite of him (the direction towards his parents), it seemed the bear could sense him, too. He went intangible and picked up the pace, letting trees and leaves fly through him at a dizzying pace. Finally, the forest opened into a little clearing, and Danny threw up a green wall at the end of it, where the bear was trying to escape. It skid to a halt so fast it left deep gashes in the dirt, dropped something fuzzy and black from its mouth, and turned to face him.

Danny froze. There, curled beneath the ghost bear’s legs, was a single cub. It peered out from behind her, oblivious to the danger and curious as to the reason for their night’s interruption. More importantly, it did not glow like it’s mother. It was still alive.

Mother Bear growled a warning at the same time Danny’s parents started crashing through the brush nearest her. “Stop!” he shouted out, holding out a hand despite his parents not being able to see him. “Uh, stand down!”

“Danny?” His dad called. “What’s going on?”

Mother Bear was looking increasingly frantic. Panicking a little himself—whether from the emotions that he was accidentally leaching off her or the situation, he wasn’t sure—Danny made a split-second decision and thrust a dome over the top of her and her cub. It would shield them from any sudden bear attacks, true, but it also served as makeshift protection from any Fenton weaponry.

He trusted his parents not to shoot him. He wasn’t sure if he trusted them not to shoot Mother Bear.

“It’s safe now!” Danny called to his parents. “Um, leave your guns outside the clearing! And walk slowly!”

Danny was almost surprised to hear them listening. He didn’t know why. He had to stop doubting them.

“Oh,” Maddie said when she breached the tree line. Mother Bear rotated to face her and Jack as they stepped out, gnashing her too-long teeth and backing further over her cub to put it safely beneath her belly. It peeked out from beneath her paws. “It’s…a mother.”

She sounded shocked. Danny concurred.

“Come over here,” Danny told his parents. “Behind me. I’m gonna try something.”

He stepped forward as his parents came around the dome. Mother Bear watched them walk until they’d settled behind Danny, and already he could feel that fear worry stress easing, just from having all potential predators in-sight instead of surrounding her.

“Danny,” Maddie warned when he took another step forward. “Bears are extremely protective of their young.”

“I know,” Danny murmured, keeping his voice low. He inched forward, getting lower to the ground as he walked. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Mother Bear snarled statically, touching on Ghost Speak but unable to form full coherence. Worry, is what Danny was able to read from it. Worry. Baby. Danger.

Danny switched tactics, changing to Ghost Speak as he set his hands gently against the wall of the dome, emanating as many calming emotions as he could summon. Calm. Safe.

She flinched, but her teeth were shortening, growing less sharp. Baby Bear yawned beneath her, a kind of squeaking hum. Almost like a puppy. Like Cujo, maybe.

Calm. Safe. Danny promised, at the same time voicing sentences in English above the Ghost Speak’s static: “It’s okay. You’re safe. I won’t hurt you. I won’t hurt him. You can let go. I’ll protect him. It’s alright.”

Mother Bear swayed, grew smaller. Promise. She growled. Staticked. No-nonsense voice. 

Promise. Danny responded.

Baby Bear nuzzled into Mother Bear, and she licked at his cheek as her body grew brighter and began dissipating, moving on. Baby Bear purred and purred.

She looked at Danny. Looked behind him, where his parents stood. Mother? she asked. With the emotions clogging her speech finally gone, he could actually understand her.

Danny nodded. “Yeah. That’s my Mom.”

Good. Mother Bear hummed, closing her eyes. Safe.

She disappeared, her glowing green fragments scattering on the wind.

Danny turned around to face his parents, and for the first time noticed that they were both crying. That was okay. He was crying, too.

He cleared his throat. “So. Anyway. Where’s the nearest Animal Sanctuary?”

[lettersfromaphrodite]

[23.49]

― pairing : Wonwoo x fem! reader ― content warnings : fluff, wolf au, wonwoo is a witch, reader is a wolf, medieval settings ― word count : 2.800 ― notes : ⚠️ this fic doesn not mean I will start writing series for seventeen as well! I love them a lot but my brain wouldn’t handle writing for 13 people… But Wonwoo lives in my life rent free although he’s not even my bias so here goes nothing⚠️   

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

It happened on the third day you had silently returned to your house right next to the woods; you were hunting for something to eat, when all of a sudden, in the distance, you saw him. 

Wonwoo was lazily walking around while the dark green cloak he was wearing was obediently following his movements, his eyes analysing the grass while looking from some kind of herb, and you guessed that he must have embraced his warlock side; unlike him, you knew he could use magic – when you were kids he loved to show you all the spells he learnt, but Wonwoo didn’t know about you being a wolf. 

Since you were both very young when you left your village, sometimes you wondered what he would have done if he ever found out that you could shift into another creature, but you felt like laughing at yourself for your own naive thoughts. After all, Wonwoo had always made you feel at ease, and he had always made you feel safe; you were certain that he would have accepted it easily. Would he?

Among the things you absolutely hated the most, hunters were definitely on top of the list, especially because they always found creative ways to camouflage their traps.

Despite it’s been more than ten long years since the first time you learnt how to properly shift into a wolf, and despite the fact you had always been careful while wandering through the woods, you had to admit to yourself that you have been an absolute idiot.

Probably, you were just genuinely happy to have returned to your village after such a long absence imposed by your mother, who was both extremely happy because in your family, only women were able to shift into wolves, but also extremely worried since she didn’t want you to hurt anyone on accident before you were completely sure to be able to tame your wolf side.  Probably, you have been genuinely taken aback from the sight of your long time crush wandering in the woods as if he was walking in starlight.

Although you wanted to remain where you were – strategically hidden behind an oak tree, and enjoy the sight of Wonwoo strolling through the woods, you realized that your priority, at the moment, was to head back home and tend your wounds; even though your reflexes prevented your foreleg to completely be stuck into the iron toothed trap, you had been roughly scratched by it, and leaving traces of fresh blood all around the place definitely was not a wise option.

On his behalf, Wonwoo definitely was not naive; he had been walking through the woods for years, and he quickly realized that he was not alone. Unbeknownst to you, the warlock kept his attention focused on the general direction where you were, and therefore, he easily noticed when you decided to head the opposite way.  

«Hey, wait.» you heard Wonwoo’s deep voice gently call for you; instinctively, you stopped in your tracks, wincing in pain as you slightly lifted your right foreleg, hoping in vain for the latter not to notice that you were hurt. 

«It’s okay,» he called out again, easily closing the distance between the two of you, walking around your frame and crouching down in front of you – almost purposely making himself smaller and an easy target, just to make you feel less threatened; the warlock’s dark green cape was now crumpled on the ground, and the small basket full of herbs he was carrying with himself was right next to his left knee, «I won’t hurt you, I promise.» he kept talking with a gentle voice, as if he already knew that wolves understood human language, since part of them could shift into a human form, while the ones who couldn’t shift, simply got used to constantly hear human language.

Eventually, you walked closer to him, trying not to push too much of your weight on your injured limb as best as you could; for whatever reason, you were almost shy to meet his eyes, as if you were embarrassed about tripping directly into a hunter’s cage because you were secretly happy to see him. 

Wonwoo carefully followed your moves with a small frown, which immediately turned into a gentle expression as soon as your nose was few inches from his. 

«You must be a new one, I haven’t seen you around before.» he spoke balancing his elbows on his knees, and carefully studying your frame; again, you avoided meeting his gaze. In your human form, you had a scar on your left cheek; a permanent reminder of that day when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with Wonwoo as the two of you decided to adventure in the woods. A scar that of course was meant to show on your wolf form as well, in an ugly line of missing fur right under your left eye. 

Unbeknownst to you, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered on that small scar, but your brain was still processing a particular sentence he had just spoke; were there other wolves around? By all meant you were trespassing someone’s territory. 

“This is definitely not good.” you thought, the last thing you wanted was to challenge some alpha over a territory. But, however, if there was really a pack of wolves around, why didn’t you felt anything? Usually, an uneasy feeling would spread in your stomach, almost as you felt anxious about intruding someone’s home without authorization.

«Can I see that wound?» Wonwoo asked you, snapping you out of your thoughts, and stupidly enough, you instinctively met his gaze. Although the warlock had definitely grown into a handsome young man, you noticed that one thing had remained just as when the two of you were kids: his glasses seemed to continuously threaten to fall off his nose, which made him appear extremely cute and adorable, despite his sharp features. 

However, what made your heart race was a very definite feeling within your soul; Wonwoo met your gaze and your soul felt calm, as if you were howling at the moon in a summer night.

“He’s my soulmate.” you thought.  Wonwoo extended his hand towards you, and you sat on the ground, placing your injured paw on the palm of his hand; he carefully analysed it, his fingertips gently moving around the fur over the wound, before eventually, you saw his eyes flashing a bright golden colour. The warlock quietly mumbled few words which you couldn’t understand, and before you realized it, the pain you had felt had completely stopped. 

«All done, make sure to pay attention around here.» he gently commented, and you immediately ran home with a racing heart. 

Whether that night you laid in bed in your human form, staring at your right hand without managing to fall asleep, that’s a secret for only you to know.

Within the following days you had met Wonwoo almost on a daily basis, although – when you were by yourself, you kept avoiding walking too close to the village while being in your human form; sometimes, you had the feeling that Wonwoo suspected something, but how could he? He couldn’t read your mind, could he?

“I wonder if he feels different, if he missed me,” you silently questioned yourself as your thoughts wandered on dangerous territories, “I wonder if he will accept me as his mate.”

A month later, Wonwoo had basically turned you into his familiar; it wasn’t rare for you to spend your days in his garden as he was either busy creating some strange looking potion or doing the laundry, but nevertheless, anytime he asked you whether you wanted to go to the village with him, you always refused, immediately going back home. “It’s not my territory.” you reminded yourself every time.

Spring afternoons were extremely relaxing, and strangely enough, the small section of grass in Wonwoo’s little garden seemed to be more comfortable than all the wild grass which covered the woods. The warlock was on his knees, palatially leaned over a wide wooden basin filled with warm water, as he was patiently washing his sheets; you were laying on your side, casually glancing at him – wondering why he wasn’t using magic in the first place, while fighting the urge to drift off to sleep.

As you were about to fall into the temptation of losing yourself into slumber’s embrace, you felt few droplets of water land on your nose; your eyes curiously opened, and Wonwoo sprinkled some water towards you once again, using his fingertips. Instinctively wrinkling your nose, you squeezed your eyes, placing your left paw on his thigh and pushing forward – trying to ignore how firm his thighs actually were, with the secret goal to make him fall on the ground for interrupting your nap time; Wonwoo laughed softly, adjusting his glasses while using his wrist, and you felt your heart swell. You loved being around Wonwoo, especially as a wolf; actually, you were certain that you would have loved being around him even as a human, but you still didn’t gather enough courage to tell him that you had came back.

Few hours later, the warlock was sitting next to you, leaning back so that his weight was placed on his left hand, while he was gently brushing your soft fur with his right hand; however, his fingertips dangerously lingered over the scar on your face, and you kept your eyes tightly closed. 

Wonwoo used to caress it when you were kids, a tender brush of his fingertips which you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t looking at him anytime he did that; the warlock had just did the same thing, and your heart immediately picked up pace.

Wonwoo knew it was you.

«You are a wolf,» you spoke, your index finger pointed to your own reflection in the mirror in a threatening way, «you could literally eat him in one – two bites!» you steadily went on with your rambling, asking yourself why were you supposed to be scared of telling Wonwoo that you were mates, and not finding an answer to your own cowardice. 

Since the afternoon the warlock had caressed your scar, you had carefully avoided to go in the places he usually roamed in, and therefore, you haven’t seen Wonwoo for more than a week; you wondered if the longing feeling which almost completely filled your soul was completely due to the soulmate bond, and moreover, you wondered if he missed you as well.

«Maybe he has someone?» you questioned yourself, before immediately shaking your head with a frown; you’ve spent enough time at Wonwoo’s house to knew that he didn’t have a partner, «and moreover, he’s meant with me.»  Basically, you spent the morning acting like a flustered teenager, despite the fact that you were a full grown adult.

Hesitantly, you knocked on Wonwoo’s front door, still pondering to just turn around and leave; it was late afternoon, and you had finally made up your mind, walking all the way to the warlock’s house. However, the more you waited, the more you realized that he wasn’t going to open the door anytime soon – he probably wasn’t home, fortuity which gave you the opportunity to flee; as you were stepping down the last step of Wonwoo’s porch, you heard the familiar creak of the wooden front door being open.

«You sure had some nerve making me wait for this long.» Wonwoo’s voice was groggy, and you figured out he was probably just taking a nap; you immediately spun on your heels, your gown obediently twirling around your legs as you stood facing him, your fingers nervously picking at each other in short and nervous movements.

«Well, I – »you started, now knowing what you wanted to say; although you wanted to apologize, every word you knew seemed to have vanished for your brain. 

«Come here, you idiot.» Wonwoo smiled at you, and in the same moment you saw his arms widening into an obvious offer of a hug, you skipped back on the steps of his porch, almost throwing yourself in his arms. 

«You can’t walk around with a scar on your cheek and not expect me to connect the dots,» he mumbled, resting his chin on the top of your head, as your face was basically buried in the crook of his neck, «I missed you.» he finally admitted the words you’ve desperately wanted to hear, and you instinctively hugged him a little tighter.

Wonwoo ended up convincing you to stay for dinner, and of course, you couldn’t exactly bring yourself to say no; even if you still had to confess him about the soulmate bond connecting the two of you, you were happy to spend some time with him by simply staying in your human form.

The moon was shining in the sky as the two of you were sitting on the steps of his porch, enjoying the quiet night summer breeze.

«Were you actually certain that I was the wolf?» you questioned; Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, and simply shrugged.

«It was just a bold guess in the beginning, but Seungcheol kinda confirmed it,» the warlock took your bewildered expression to explain himself further, «I randomly walked into him the day after we met, and he seemed to be all excited about you having returned into town, as a wolf. He also said we had the same scent, so we were probably mates.»

«Wait,» few seconds of silence had passed, and you silently connected the dots, «Seungcheol is a wolf?» you questioned, dumbfounded, and Wonwoo simply nodded, quietly chuckling at your surprise, already knowing what you would have said next, «Seungcheol, “let me chase you real quick while holding this bee hive” Seungcheol?»

«In his defence, he grew into a reliable leader.» Wonwoo admitted, and a comfortable silence fell once again around the two of you. Of course, the fact that Seungcheol was the alpha of the territory was the main reason you didn’t feel threatened with the sudden instinct and need to leave; he might have accepted you as one of his pack before you even thought about asking him to become one.

«He also told you we’re soulmates,» you sighed, «I feel like I’ve been beating around the bushes for nothing.» you felt Wonwoo’s arm around your shoulder, before being gently pulled into his side; you immediately shifted closer, so that you could comfortably lean against him without the two of you being uncomfortable.

«You did, but it was cute,» Wonwoo admitted, and your shoulders lowered in defeat, making him chuckle at your behaviour, «I was honestly curious about how long it would have took you.»

«Can you blame me? I literally disappeared in the middle of the night, and showed up years later.» you immediately retorted, explaining that your mother didn’t exactly gave you time to warn him about the fact you were about to leave, and as soon as you reached your new house, your main thoughts were immediately focused on trying to tame yourself in order not to hurt other people by mistake.

«I was really angry back then,» Wonwoo confessed, «but eventually, other friends went through the shifting process, and when he came back, Seungcheol helped me actually understand that you would have come back, sooner or later. I just had to wait.»

«So… Does it mean you’re accepting the bond?» you timidly questioned, and you felt Wonwoo wordlessly nod against your forehead, «and does it mean you’re going to kiss your soulmate?» as you felt the warlock detaching himself from you with an overdramatic sigh you felt like you had screwed up but luckily, as you met his gaze, you could only find affection. 

«If I hadn’t had a crush on you since day one I would have said no, because your pickup lines are really awful.» hearing Wonwoo’s words was as if your neurons simultaneously caught fire; before you could actually question him about “what the hell do you mean you have a crush on me”, his lips captured yours in a soft, tentative first kiss. 

Wonwoo’s lips were gentle – just like his whole being, but the kiss feels like the rush of a high tide at noon; his right thumb and index finger were under your chin, while his left hand was lazily gripping your nape, as if to prevent you from run away when all you wanted was to taste more, to feel more, until the point where you can’t even quantify what could that “more” even stand for. 

«Don’t leave.» Wonwoo spoke, a faint murmur against your lips, and you instinctively smiled in return, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him again, again and again.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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[slythereen]

Hey! I saw your answer to that one ask and would like to know why Redbull (or any other team) would be interested in doing what Liberty Media asked of them and have two top drivers that are truly competetive? Why would a team and a TP want that added stress of managing them and handling that situation if the current situation (for example with Max & Checo) works. We all saw what happened with Mercedes and Rosberg & Hamilton.

And we all remember how good and competetive the 2020-2021 seasons were because there was a true fight between multiple drivers/ constructers for the win. And tbh we all can agree that this season has been pretty boring because there has been no fight for the win (with the exception of the Las Vegas and Singapore GP).

Thank you in advance for answering 🫶🏼

this is ABSURDLY late! but hello! i do have a few thoughts about this so please accept my belated answer while i fight the tumblr app demons 🫶

the reason why i think red bull would be willing in doing what liberty media asks is not necessarily because they care about liberty media, per se, but because of the marketing power that comes with it. it also doesn't hurt to get in the good graces of the owners by going along with their latest "entertainment" plans.

that, and because redbull can get away with it in a way i don't think other teams can. why?

redbull has already proven that they can win both championships with max verstappen alone if they have the car for it. that might not hold for next season, if the other teams manage to close the gap (please!!!), but as of right now they don't have to worry too much about their second driver.

that being said, they are always about MORE. more domination, more breaking records, more being the best and the first to do something — youngest drivers, youngest winners, longest records, etc. etc. etc. it would definitely be a goal for them to demolish a whole season even more than they already did in 2023, and having two drivers contribute would be part of that (checo did fine imo; he's just not at max's level to lead to total complete annihilation).

(consider how infamously brutal they are with their second drivers. obviously they seem content with checo as a #2 to max, but historically they have been vicious if their second driver couldn't compete well. why? because they want a powerful duo. i don't believe even kind of that they are content to keep checo just because he's doing "alright".)

having two top drivers might take points from one another, sure. that might jeopardize an easy snatch at both championships. but rbr is also very good with strategy, very good at drawing obvious lines. if it comes down to it and they need to enforce a little bit of discipline between their drivers, they will. i think they would be able to manage a consistent 1-2 every race without having to worry too much about #3 creeping up on them, but if they did have to be a bit more strategic? they could do it. now, would they be willing to prioritize the other driver over max if they had earned it thus far? i think maybe, but that one is admittedly questionable.

(see also part two: imagine seeing a very competent team with very good drivers managing to team up against their rivals when necessary? a lot of very cool strategies to take out competition or play the team game strategically don't always work out because of the skill gap between drivers — i.e., carlos aside from being unwilling to help charles is almost never in the position to do so because he lacks pace or is too far back or is on a different strategy etc etc. same goes with checo. this would give rbr more options for coordination when needed, i think, which could lend itself to some cool stunts and scheming.)

redbull as a brand — that is, Red Bull™ corporate, not just red bull racing — is all about pushing boundaries and being exceptional and highkey crazy. rbr also prides itself on being "different" and not like those stuffy manufacturer constructions. they're a scrappy energy drink bodying "real" car companies and doing it as loudly and controversially as possible. being the type of hooligans to take on the chaos and potential drama of a two top driver lineup is sort of in their wheelhouse.

i also think that mercedes not being able to do it successfully would only be more incentive for rbr to try. imagine if they make it work where toto wolff and one of the iconic manufacturer teams failed? that's bragging rights for life. rbr would go crazy with that. christian would be elated.

(see also, with charles specifically: stealing ferrari's prince, golden boy, il predestinato, and giving him the championship that ferrari failed to give him? yeah. rbr would eat that shit up. they love their controversial champions.)

entertainment value. rbr did not seem non-receptive to liberty media's attempts to bring more entertainment to the sport. obviously max hates the added fuss, but this is the sort of entertainment that max wouldn't hate — give him a real challenge every weekend and batshit crazy racing? i think he'd take that. i know he's said he enjoys not having to fight as much because it means the team is doing insanely well, but fighting his own teammate because they are the only ones who can actually compete would still be rbr domination. and lbr, he seems to enjoy the races where he RACES much more than the cruising ones.

that being said, yes, i agree it is pretty entertaining when it's two or three teams battling it out in full-fledged fight. obviously having two rbr drivers fighting the champion fight reduces some of the drama — no steward fights and arguments, no rival tps arguing, no inter-team tension. that's a little less fun. besides, stewards don't tend to investigate intra-team incidents. so there may be some lost entertainment there — but it also might be less toxic, too. time would have to tell on that one.

(also worth noting that people got annoyed with on-going rbr dominance this season, but, i mean... at least the first few races when it looked like checo might actually fight seemed entertaining to the masses. i think it's more so max verstappen dominance they are sick of. this would lend itself to some mystery.)

who knows though! even if charles has renewed (and ferrari has been doing A Lot lately to suggest they are trying hard to keep him, for once), i think rbr will be trying to get a closer-to-number-1 driver in the future regardless. obviously they tried to get charles. they have tried to get lando (debatable if he's on the same level, but he's good and has the potential).

i think they are very interested in having two top drivers; i just happen to think charles would be best suited for it, provided he gets a fair shot at the title with them.