#i feel like the world is ending in like extremely compact moment

[beelzzzebub]

i have got to go to sleep

[nenilein]

Thoughts on writing longer form fics/fiction vs shorter form?

Oh, a lot! Let's see...

I think both are extremely difficult but also extremely fun in their own ways.

Shortform fiction is a challenge for me, because it means I need to clearly delineate what belongs into it and what doesn't. Focus on what should be there and include that. What aids the theme? What drives the story to its soon goal? How can I make sure everything flows together into a series of striking and effective moments without wasting and time? If you fail on this selection process, the short story will meander and leave the reader confused by the end, especially if things that clearly need to be resolved are left unresolved. (Note: Some unresolved threads can be effective for a powerful ending, but they need to be purposeful unresolved. If you start a seemingly important subplot about a character going through something important and then never do anything with it and don't tie it into any theme, you've just wasted the reader's attention and time). The big advantage of shortform fiction is that you can make a meaningful statement and create powerful emotion much more quickly and powerfully than if you have to set up an entire world and cast first. Longform fiction requires you to capture and keep your reader's attention for much longer, which means you'll have to employ soooome level of "manipulation" to keep them hooked that shortform wouldn't need.

Longform fiction, however, has the advantage of giving you space. You don't want your character's entire existence to be suffering? well, longform gives you time to balance the good with the bad. There are some jokes you really wanna do and aspects of your world and characters you really wanna explore, but they aren't anything that fits into a single compact, thoroughly themed story? Well, longform allows for detours that let you take a look at these things. (Though, these detours still need to be curated, interesting and ultimately serve a purpose. Losing a reader's attention can happen waaaay too quickly and once it happens, it's the death knell for your audience retention). However, long form fiction also has the problem that it gives you too much space. When it feels like you can include everything, you often want to include everything. That's an issue I've struggled with a lot in the past. Soon, you'll find yourself with 500 characters and no way to properly use all of them. a lot of their stories won't aid the themes and intentions of your story at all. You'll produce side plots and even "filler arcs" that fall by the wayside and are forgotten and before you know it you fall into the "Bleach" conundrum where it seems like your story has totally lost sight of what it was about and you can't fix it anymore, because you've added so much fat to your story that can't be cut anymore.

Above all else, however, longform fiction is a commitment. As soon as your story grows too big for you to even comprehend it yourself anymore, that's when you're in trouble. You need to remember what happened! You need to remember all your characters' motivations, which developments they've already gone through and which they haven't and who knows who. If you lose track of that, your story will fragment beyond repair and your readers won't find keeping up with it satisfying anymore. That, as well as shifting fandom interests are the most common causes of longfics turning into dead fics, or, in the professional world, series being cancelled or book series being abandoned.

Ultimately the most important thing is to know your limits. How big does your story need to be? How big can you afford it being before maintaining it consumes too much of your life to be feasible? These are questions you should always ask yourself before you decide whether to focus your attention on short form or long form fiction. Of course, short form and long form also lend themselves to extremely different story types, so in the end it will also come down to what you want to write and how to make it effective... It's all a manner of having a feel for your own writing style!

[cinephilereverie]

Dune: Part Two

3.5 out of 5 Stars

I really enjoyed it, especially being able to see it in the cinema. However, it's probably not for the casual moviegoer. The immersion of the movie theater truly accentuated the events. When the sandstorms came you could feel the vibrations throughout the theater. While it is an amazing theater experience, it's not for the everyday watcher. It's very long. There isn't anything I would cut out, but it does feel long in the moment. I was enjoying what I was watching while still noticing the runtime. That being said, there isn't anything that should have been taken out or shortened to compact the movie. The relationship between the Houses, the Emperor, Arrakis, the Fremen, etc. is extremely complicated and needs time to be showcased. There are over twenty books with deep and nuanced world-building to go through. The world-building is one of Dune's biggest strengths. The separate groups are all so distinct from one other in looks, tradition, and language. This skilled world-building also allows the audience to hear exposition without having someone bluntly explain everything. It uses religion, secrets, and character dynamics to reveal what background we need to know. Another strength of Dune's is the striking imagery throughout the film. The expansive sands and neutral tones of Arrakis compared with the cold, metallic color palette of the Harkonnen and the Emperor. The contrast between an earlier shot where it appears like Paul is in a suffocating crowd of the Fremen, walking the opposite way through them, versus a shot near the end where he is leading an army of Fremen. It's obvious why Fraser (the cinematographer) won the Oscar for Dune Part 1. I would definitely recommend watching it, just prepare yourself for almost three hours of sand.

PS: there's a crap ton of flashing lights during the scene between Margot (Seydoux) and Feyd (Butler). Throughout the whole movie, there's also a lot of switching between dark scenes and super bright, white landscapes. Just a heads-up to all of the people who are sensitive to headaches.

[engineplow9]

Everything about Puma Ignite Review

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Even along with the changes in state of mind, "Fire up" never permits up its feverish momentum. In fact, it appears a little like it's beginning to offer us what feels like an rigorous sense of urgency straight prior to our eyes. Ad But it's not going anywhere anytime quickly. For a few years now, J.R.R. Tolkien's job on writing magic is getting a great deal far better. Despite information that challenge topics like migration and ethnological oppression with words like, "How a lot of bodies in the stream?". a preferred trademark one of Latino electors in Miami, his initiative has additionally released studies revealing that Hispanic Americans have lesser wellness treatment expense than their black peers, and he claims this year's survey was not created to offer a standard idea of only how much Latino assistance he need to have to possess a productive initiative. Instead, it is part of his initiative's method. ( "The River" ),there is an underlying uplifting sense underneath it all. The accurate power of the River is in the electricity of its citizens, and that electricity's potential to carry the torch for the true liberation of humanity from the corruptations of worldly life is genuinely astounding. "The River" is a story regarding the accurate and special spiritual electrical power and influence of the correct, strange Water, which is at the center of a entire brand new energy that I hope one time to deliver to pass.

[welch77doyle]

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[brother-emperors]

BRUTUS, CASSIUS, HOMOEROTICISM [sort of. at least 50%] AND ROMANTIC LANGUAGE [debatable] in several [hopefully coherent] parts, by T. M. Basil after drinking several cups of coffee in a row

some amount of time ago @r-osehips​​ gave me an opening to talk about this, and at long last, I’ve finally assembled my thoughts on the topic in a way that hopefully makes sense. [~3,000 words]

I'll preface this with saying that I have no skill for translation, but all of this is typed out, so feel free to it through a translator.

Also, I’m going to say that if you enjoy the Brutus-Cassius dynamic, I’m imploring you to read @copperbadge​‘s The City War, it’s the best $2.99 you will ever spend

We'll start off with the most obvious historical example I have before diving into more interpretive discussion and later reception:

Dio 47.20 writes that: Then, despairing of the republic and at the same time fearing him, [Cassius and Brutus] departed. The Athenians gave them a splendid reception; for, though they were honored by nearly everybody else for what they had done, the inhabitants of this city voted them bronze images by the side of those of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, thus intimating that Brutus and Cassius had emulated their example.

Harmodius and Aristogeiton were celebrated as "the Liberators," and "the Tyrannicides," and they were also lovers.

The History of the Peloponnesian War, Thucydides: Indeed, the daring action of Aristogiton and Harmodius was undertaken in consequence of a love affair, which I shall relate at some length, to show that the Athenians are not more accurate than the rest of the world in their accounts of their own tyrants and of the facts of their own history. Pisistratus dying at an advanced age in possession of the tyranny, was succeeded by his eldest son, Hippias, and not Hipparchus, as is vulgarly believed. Harmodius was then in the flower of youthful beauty, and Aristogiton, a citizen in the middle rank of life, was his lover and possessed him. Solicited without success by Hipparchus, son of Pisistratus, Harmodius told Aristogiton, and the enraged lover, afraid that the powerful Hipparchus might take Harmodius by force, immediately formed a design, such as his condition in life permitted, for overthrowing the tyranny.

Sticking to history, Florus' account [Flor. Epit. 2.17.7.14] of the death of Brutus and Cassius has been translated like this [and this will briefly get into later commentary on them]: Brutus, having lost his second self by the death of Cassius, in order that he might not fail in carrying out every detail of their compact (for it had been agreed that neither of them should survive the battle), presented his side to one of his companions that he might plunge his sword into it.

The latin: Brutus cum in Cassio etiam suum animum perdidisset, ne quid ex constituti fide resignaret, (ita enim non superesse bello convenerat) ipse quoque uni comitum suorum confodiendum praebuit latus.

And then, much later, in what's actually a commentary on Dante's Inferno 34.67, Florus is recalled once more, but with an extremely interesting alteration [Benvenuto da Imola (1375-80), Inferno 34.64-67]: Brutus autem, cum perdidisset animum ex morte Cassii, fugiens, omni spe perdita, precibus obtinuit ut a Stratone socio suo interficeretur

[On the subject of the Inferno, there's something about pairs in hell, and Brutus and Cassius are (wait for it) a pair in hell!]

The way that Brutus and Cassius' are tied together in death is of an interesting note, simply because they died within the same month, but some accounts have them dying within days of each other, or even within the same moment

Orosius: Reduced to desperation, Brutus and Cassius both resolved to commit suicide before the battle came to an end. Cassius offered his head to the executioners whom they had summoned, while Brutus offered his side.

and there's something about the overlapping of their deaths in direct contradiction of the actual timeline that echoes back to warrior pairs dying together. You know. Nisus and Euryalus, and not to quote Fagles, but 'how fortunate, both at once!'

To take a short detour, if you enjoy wounds, death, angst potential, and parallels, there is an account where Brutus and Cassius kill each other in the aftermath of Philippi, and Nicodemus of Damascus writes that the hand wound Plutarch writes of in his Brutus biography was actually inflicted by Cassius [accidentally]: A moment before Cassius had struck him obliquely across the face. Decimus Brutus struck him through the thigh. Cassius Longinus was eager to give another stroke, but he missed and struck Marcus Brutus on the hand.

Which ties into my next topic! Cassius and Brutus as two halves of a thematic whole! Brutus and Cassius repeatedly get compared to complimentary roles, namely: the politician [Brutus] and the warrior [Cassius]. [If you're willing to engage with a little creative exploration, consider a comparative to courtly romance dynamics, knights and the one's they're sworn to, dedication to ideals, etc etc]

To steal a quote from Brutus, assassin par idéal [Anne Bernet], just to set the tone: Cassius, de son côté, admire l'idéalisme de Brutus, sa vertu, mais s'exaspère de le croire incapable d'agir. Ils exercent l'un sur l'autre une attraction dont on ne sait si elle est bonne ou mauvaise. Cassius a besoin de l'approbation de Brutus, et Brutus a besoin d'être poussé en avant par plus entreprenant que lui. L'association est plus harmonieuse qu'il n'y paraît.

Velleius Paterculus: Cassius was as much the better general as Brutus was the better man. Of the two, one would rather have Brutus as a friend, but would stand more in fear of Cassius as an enemy. The one had more vigour, the other more virtue.c As it was better for the state to have Caesar rather than Antony as emperor, so, had Brutus and Cassius been the conquerors, it would have been better for is to be ruled by Brutus rather than by Cassius.

If at the start of the year he had thought he could live under a clement master, now at its end Cassius' wishes for a free res publica were coming to the surface. Wheter he was the one to approach Brutus or the other way around is impossible to know; we should probably assume that the idea had crossed each man's mind before one of them gave expression to it. But in either case, Brutus may never have dreamed of actually killing Caesar without Cassius' cooperation- and, presumably, vice versa.

-Brutus: the Noble Conspirator, Kathryn Tempest

While we're still talking about them being two halves of a whole, there's something of a tradition to make them into one person. To borrow Si Sheppard's words: The name of Cassius has been inseparably paired with that of Brutus for more than 2,000 years.

And if that strikes your interest, Chaucer's 'Brutus Cassius' by H Theodore Silverstein, and also Fission-Fusion Cognition in Shakespearean Drama, The Case for Julius Caear, Miranda Anderson are the papers to read! On the specific topic of Brutus and Cassius and the ordering of their names, E.Rawson’s essay, Cassius and Brutus: The Memory of the Liberators is the way to go.

Now to get into THEATRE

We aren't starting with Shakespeare, we're doing Voltaire's La Mort de César

I'm going to start with my favorite line in French:

Cassius' first line to Brutus is this: Je t'embrasse, Brutus, pour la dernière fois.

The extremely fun thing about je t'embrasse is, despite every translation going in for 'I hug you' or in the case of that 19th century translation which omitted Cassius' direction to Brutus entirely, that it can also be translated to 'I kiss you, Brutus, for the last time.'

And now we'll get into the rest of it! I'll use the english translation for the rest of this for ease of reading.

Caesar has a line very early on, in reply to Antony bitching about Brutus, saying that Brutus has a 'seductive charm' that makes Caesar overlook Brutus' faults. For context, Caesar is Brutus' biological father in this play. Cassius is introduced despairing of the state of things, declaring that there's nothing left to do except die, and Brutus is the one who proposes conspiracy, and it's here we kind of see that seductive charm come into play because Cassius immediately adopts conspiracy of assassination as his entire desire.

Later, after Brutus finds out that Caesar is his father, and now enters a kind of existential despair he never really gets out of, Cassius presents Brutus' tie with himself to be one of more meaning over Caesar's biological tie to Brutus.

[Cassius]

Friend of Cassius, what more do you want?

These titles are sacred: all others outrage them.

Brutus reaffirms this positioning of relationship importance later with

[Brutus]

Yes, I am uniting my blood with yours forever.

With Voltaire taken care of, let's do Shakespeare!

First, let's do the Tent Scene, because everything else about Shakespeare is going to get split into a few parts.

Tents in Shakespeare are places where emotions can come to light, where displays of acting [compare Brutus with his 'But bear it as our Roman actors do,' vs Cassius and 'What you have said, and show yourselves true Romans.'] can be put aside and suppressed emotion and vulnerability brought into the light.

'Brutus and Cassius have been at loggerheads for some time; they now meet and will either sort out their differences, most of which derive from misunderstanding, or severely cripple their military effort against Octavius and Antony. Brutus knows that if they desire a serious conversation, they must withdraw from the soldiers surrounding them. Brutus says: "in my tent, Cassius, enlarge your griefs." The tent provides them a safe place for intense and often heated exchanges.' [Shakespeare's Intents in Tents, David M. Bergeron]

Now let's talk about HOMOEROTICISM IN SHAKESPEARE AND THE RENAISSANCE!

The text to be reading for this is "Romans, countrymen, and lovers": Performing Politics, Sovereign Amity and Masculinity in Julius Caesar, by Amy Scott, since it covers basically everything you could want regarding what's going on between Brutus and Cassius in this play.

"Within this first conversation, we also see immediate expression of the sovereign amity shared between these men. As Cassius first approaches Brutus, he complains that the quality of their friendship has been strained of late, and he does so in homoerotic terms: “I have not from your eyes that gentleness / And show of love as I was wont to have. / You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand / Over your friend that loves you” (1.2.33-36). Cassius is clearly testing Brutus’s disposition towards Caesar’s rise, and he is not disappointed by Brutus’s response. Brutus, like Cassius, professes the intensity of the male/male bond, numbering Cassius among his “good friends,” and apologizing that he has neglected “the shows of love to other men” (1.2.43,47). Cassius, when holding himself up as a mirror to Brutus, speaks again of his love for Brutus. Although this declaration may be called into question by his objective— namely to incite Brutus to conspiracy—the abundance of protestations of both love and sincerity throughout the play belie this possibility." [Amy Scott]

While I'm still here, this is basically the Seduction scene, although it should be noted that Cassius doesn't begin laying the ground work for conspiracy until Brutus first brings up his own misgivings, and now that I've said that: This Entire Video, Please, I'm Begging You To Watch It, I Haven't Know Peace Since I First Saw It [RSC 2017′s act 1 scene 2 alternatives, guys, it’s the seduction of Cassius this time]

On the topic of Cassius and seduction: Oxymoronic Ethos: The Rhetoric of Honor and Its Performance in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Xinyao Xiao, and also Has Cassius Been Misinterpreted? David Klein.

To Revisit the Tent Scene, Amy Scott compares it to a lovers quarrel, and it's not out of place. Within the framework of Renaissance Friendship Dynamics [where Friendship/Sovereign Amity frequently overlapped with the Homoerotic and Sexual], when balance gives way to excess, namely an excess of love, it turns the entire relationship sour.

"Before Cassius and Brutus have their confrontation, however, Brutus says to Lucillius echoing the language of Renaissance friendship discourses:

When love begins to sicken and decay

It useth an enforced ceremony.

There are no tricks in plain and simple faith;

But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,

Make gallant show and promise of their mettle.

(4.2.20-24)

When Brutus and Cassius do finally bicker, Cassius complains, “Brutus hath rived my heart” (4.3.85), “You love me not” (89), and “A friendly eye could never see such faults” (90). Brutus, echoing Plutarch, answers, “A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear/ As huge as high Olympus” (91-92)—recalling also Caesar’s “Hence! Wilt thou lift up Olympus” (3.1.74) just before Casca delivers the first blow. As a true friend aught, Brutus has used harsh, corrective speech, and he emphasizes the sovereign amity they share by embracing Cassius and offering his heart as well as the hand Cassius has requested. Cassius later proclaims, “I cannot drink too much of Brutus’ love” (4.3.162)." [Amy Scott]

So this, specifically, gives way to a comparison to [I am so sorry for this] the Poliziano-Lorenzo de' Medici-Clarice Dilemma, or Let's Talk About Bedroom Rivalries

"A close, careful reading of the letters exchanged between Lorenzo, Poliziano, and Clarice in this period, alongside poems composed by Lorenzo and Poliziano, provides an alternative reading of these events. My work will demonstrate that this was not an ideological dispute, but a rivalry between the sacred, licit bond of marriage and the illicit—but not uncommon—eroticized bond between two male friends." [Love and Marriage: Emotion and Sexuality in the Early Medici Family, Karen Burch]

Earlier in Shakespeare's play, Brutus and Porcia have a confrontation in which Porcia engages in a very interesting sort of gender play with Brutus [Brutus as well]. Porcia adopts the dynamic of male friendship with Brutus to try and get him to confide in her, and when that fails, then leverages their marriage and her own virtue against him.

"Given that masculinity in the Renaissance is often arguably constructed against anxieties about women’s chastity and the control of women’s sexuality, the defamation of Portia’s chastity necessarily equals the compromise of Brutus’s masculinity. Portia next re-scripts herself as not merely a woman, but most significantly as “[a] woman that Lord Brutus took to wife” (2.1.293) and “[a] woman well reputed, Cato’s daughter” (2.1.295). She asks Brutus, “Think you I am no stronger than my sex / Being so fathered and so husbanded?” (2.1.296-297). By aligning herself to the honor of her father and her husband, Portia not only points to the economy of exchange in which she is a commodity, but she also attempts to usurp some of their masculine honor for herself." [Amy Scott]

For additional reading on Porcia and the Performance of the Masculine Gender: Portia's Wound, Calphurnia's Dream: Reading Character in "Julius Caesar", Cynthia Marshall

I'm getting to my point, I promise.

Cassius and Porcia are identical relationship mirrors to Brutus in this play. They are Brutus' intimate relationships within the narrative, and Brutus begins this play out of reach for both of them, and they are the ones that must reach out to him. Cassius has to ask for confirmation of their closeness, Porcia must do the same, and then Cassius is forced to confrontation with Brutus a second time.

The core of the Poliziano-Lorenzo-Clarice Dilemma is that Poliziano's relationship with Lorenzo highlighted something in Clarice's relationship with her own husband. His association with Poliziano and the place of status Lorenzo gives to Poliziano presents a social shame for Clarice, which then later drives a wedge between Poliziano and Lorenzo which results in a truly explosive climax.

"The conflict between Clarice and Poliziano offers an example of this emotional inequality; when Clarice felt humiliated by her husband’s apparent favoritism towards Poliziano, she reacted with righteous fury." [Karen Burch]

"The beloved has the power to wound or heal the lover as they please. They can hold the lover “in pianti e in sospiri” or conquer him in warfare." [Karen Burch]

[RSC’s 2017 JC production]

So if we engage with a little creative cross application here, Cassius is not only the ideal relationship [again, within the dialogue of Renaissance friendship politics: men are the ideal companions for men, and it is misogynistic, but we'll also note that Shakespeare's Brutus leans into this misogyny by attributing Cassius' emotional faults to his mother] for Brutus, but also Cassius the Other Lover in this situation. The person laying the groundwork for the conspiracy is Cassius, and the conspiracy is what's keep Brutus from Porcia's bed.

"The bed was the locus of the camera and had, in addition to the connotations of authority, a distinctly sexual symbolism. It acted as a euphemism for both conjugal relations and for adultery, and Clarice may have seen Poliziano and Lorenzo’s interactions in this light. Friends often shared beds in this period, and the erotic potential of these arrangements was not lost on contemporaries. Rocke mentions at least two instances in which bed sharing among a group of friends ended in sex. Poliziano himself recounts how a man sharing galley quarters with youths began fondling (“manomettendo”) his bunkmate before being humorously rebuffed. Often, Florentines framed queer relationships in terms of sleeping together or sharing beds. Understanding families might even accommodate their sons’ lovers, providing them with their own bed to share." [Karen Burch]

[The comparison is not a 1:1, but more of a play on the way that people engaged in conspiracy have been referred to as bedfellows, and as Cassius is a central figure of the conspiracy tempting Brutus over to it and subsequently keeping Brutus out of his bed with Porcia, etc etc]

"As much as Portia herself seems to interrogate the assumptions of femininity and the supremacy of homosociality over heterosexuality, the play does not, finally, endorse her position. Although Portia does sway Brutus, she must refigure herself in terms familiar to masculinity and sovereign amity in order to do so." [Amy Scott]

With this, Cassius is no longer the ideal mirror for Brutus, but instead he’s been repositioned the other who must once again seek out some kind of reconciliation with Brutus because his own position with Brutus is no longer clear. Like in the beginning of the play, distance between them has been assumed, but this time to the point of confrontation. Love and affection has turned sour, and it’s only through confrontation that resolution can be found and balance can be struck once more.

I'm going to throw in here that I personally like to imagine that they all got along pretty well historically, but again. This is a creative thought exercise that we're doing for Fun and Drama. It's about the theatrics.

Citations [not including the historical sources]

Voltaire's La Mort de César Shakespeare's Julius Caesar Brutus: the Noble Conspirator, Kathryn Tempest Brutus, assassin par idéal, Anne Bernet Shakespeare's Intents in Tents, David M. Bergeron "Romans, countrymen, and lovers": Performing Politics, Sovereign Amity and Masculinity in Julius Caesar, by Amy Scott Oxymoronic Ethos: The Rhetoric of Honor and Its Performance in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Xinyao Xiao Has Cassius Been Misinterpreted? David Klein Chaucer's 'Brutus Cassius,' H Theodore Silverstein Fission-Fusion Cognition in Shakespearean Drama, The Case for Julius Caear, Miranda Anderson Portia's Wound, Calphurnia's Dream: Reading Character in "Julius Caesar", Cynthia Marshall Cassius and Brutus: the Memories of the Liberators, E. Rawson

An additional reading list if you, like me, enjoy reading up more about homoerotic relationships and friendship discourse in the renaissance!

Between Friends: Discourses of Power and Desire in the Machiavelli-Vettori Letters of 1513–1515, John M Najemy, Homosexuality and the Signs of Male Friendship in Elizabethan England, Alan Bray, Love and Marriage: Emotion and Sexuality in the Early Medici Family, Karen Burch, "Socratic Love" as a Disguise for Same Sex Love in the Italian Renaissance, Giovanni Dall'Orto

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Priority

Summary: Your wife keeps letting you down and as much as you love her, you’re sick of it.

Warning: Bit of Angst

Word Count: 1,975

*******

She‘s late, again, and from the looks of time she won’t make it at all. She’d left you to do this alone, again. Not that you’re surprised.

The loud sound of metal smacking against compact rubber pulls you from your thoughts.

Looking up, a smile lights across your face as your son drops his bat and takes off. The other little boys scramble to get the ball to the plates but he’s extremely quick. He’s stepping over the home plate in no time.

You rise to your feet, clapping and cheering for him. It grabs his attention and he smiles and waves excitedly at you. Only to deflate instantly at the empty space beside you.

She promised him she’d be here and she let you down again. More importantly she let him down.

Like most things, the game comes to an end. It’s Little Leagues Tee Ball so they aren’t big on “winners” and “losers” but your son’s team won. 

Damien excitedly runs up to you, Nathaniel not too far behind him. 

“Momma did you see how fast I ran?” He bounces up and down. 

With a wide smile, you scoop him up into your arms,“ you were so fast sweetie.”

Clint walks up, Damien’s and Nathaniel’s bags on his shoulders.

“What about me? Did I run fast Auntie Y/N?” Nathaniel asks, holding on to Laura’s hand tightly. 

You turn your smile to your nephew,“ of course you did. You two are gonna give the Yankees a run for their money.” 

“I think you guy’s big win deserves ice cream.” 

The boys cheer, Lila and Cooper smiling in agreement.

All of you head to the cars, the Barton’s get in Laura’s van while you and Damien get in your truck.

Riding over to the closest ice cream shop is only a couple of minutes. Clint says it’s his treat and pays after everyone chooses their ice cream.

You all walk across the street to the park, sitting at a picnic table as you eat your ice cream. 

Conversations flow between the group, Nathaniel and Damien talking about Tee Ball, Clint and Lila talk about archery, Cooper plays on his switch, and you and Laura talk about your kids.

The second Clint and the kids finish they run off to play on the playscape and the conversation turns to your partners, but you don’t contribute much.

Laura, knowing why you’re detached from this particular topic, places a comforting hand over yours,“ I know how frustrating it can be not having her around often.”

“I would completely understand if it couldn’t be helped but,” You sigh and shake your head,“ at this point it’s like she’s choosing not to be here for him.”

“Just give her some time.”

Uncontrollably a scoff falls from your lips,“ time? He’s five. And it’s not like I made this decision on my own. We both wanted kids, I didn’t just pop up pregnant one day and expect her to accept it.”

Laura nods along.

“And the excuses.” You roll your eyes,“ Damien buys it because he’s a child and he trusts his mom but, she turns around and tries to pull it on me like I can’t see through her crap.” 

Your friends listens intently to your ranting. Waiting a few minutes after you’re done before replying.

“I can’t say I completely understand because with Clint, even though he was invested to his job, kind of snapped into his role as a father. We knew he was devoted to us despite the days and months he spent away.”

Narrowed e/c eyes respond to her words,“ is this supposed to make me feel better?” 

She chuckles, shaking her head,“ yes and no. My point is that Clint and Natasha are different. Clint lost his parents when he was young but before that his mom gave him the love and care a child should have, despite his father’s actions.”

You nod, knowing what she’s talking about. Clint had opened up to you years after you were assigned as his partner at S.H.I.E.L.D. You were very open with him from the beginning, even about the horrible relationship you had with your homophobic parents. 

In the end your honesty with him is what lead him to trust you and open up about his father’s addiction to alcohol and his abuse towards Clint. 

From then on the two of you were very close. Going from two to three when you both brought Natasha in.

Laura continues explaining,“ it’s no secret that Natasha didn’t have that. I only know bits and pieces and that alone tells me that this, a marriage, a family, it’s probably very difficult for her.” 

You know she’s right. Natasha’s had a rough bringing up and you don’t doubt that that’s affected her but that doesn’t change the fact that she made a promise to you and ultimately this family to be there for you and she’s breaking that promise. 

As the sun starts to set you all decide to leave the park, stopping to get pizza and then going your separate ways to home.

Opening the door to your home you find Natasha sitting in the living room.

Damien runs over to her, happy to see her and asking where she was. As usual she tells him she was on a mission and that alone draws the boys childish curiosity and inquisitiveness into.

Not wanting to hear this, you set the pizza down on the coffee table and walk away.

It’s a while before she follows in after you, mentioning that he fell asleep and she put him to bed. 

“A mission, huh?” You say after a moment.“ How many times are you going to use that excuse with him Natasha? He doesn’t get it now but eventually he’ll know you’re lying to him.”

Your wife shakes her head,“ I’m not lying, I was on a mission.”

“Eh wrong! Try again.” 

Green eyes roll when you make the sound,“ I really was on a mission and I just got back.”

“Maybe you’re forgetting I work there too. Steve told me you’d finished the mission late last night and was just at the compound. So save the lie I’m genuinely not interested.”

Natasha’s body slumps, defeat and regret twisting around her bones and filling her with guilt.

“Y/N, I’m sorry okay I just-“

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. It was Damien hopping you’d show up. He searched the stands for you when he didn’t see you with me.”

The guilt multiplied as well as the hurt. She didn’t miss the implication of your words: you’d started to give up on her, you didn’t expect her to be there today.

You run a hand through your hair,“ just go make things right with our son.”

With that you go to your room and collapse on the bed. Taking a deep breath, you quickly change into your pajamas, and go straight to sleep.

Hours later, you wake up on your own as opposed to the usual shrill of your alarm. Half asleep you check the time on your phone, it reading 7:15. You’re just about to go back to sleep before you realize what that means.

Knowing you have to get Damien to school by 8:30, you jump up, rushing to pull on some clothes and wash up. 

As you’re basically stumbling down the stairs you’re hit with the familiar smell of fresh coffee and bacon. 

Moving into the kitchen reveals Damien sitting at the table, talking through a mouth of pancakes to your wife. Natasha leans beside the stove, clad in black sweatpants and a t-shirt, sipping from a mug.

“Momma look, mom made pancakes!” Damien exclaims, holding up his half empty plate of food.

You move in further, eyes falling to the empty spot at the table. A plate of pancakes and bacon sits beside a mug of hot coffee. A blue sticky note is on the mug, ‘I Love You ;)’ in your wife’s handwriting on it. 

“Damien, sweetie go get dressed, you don’t want to be late.” 

Being the obedient angel that he is, he jumps up and runs off to get ready for school. 

Natasha watches you as you run your finger along the edge of the white porcelain plate. Then slicing your fork into the pancakes and tasting it.

“Pretty good. Where’d you learn to cook?” You have an upset and snarky comment on reserve but push it aside.

“I called Laura and she walked me through it. Damien likes them.” 

You nod.

Sighing, Natasha sets her mug down, cautiously approaching you.“ Y/N, I’m sorry. I love you and Damien more than I can ever express with words And I-” She steps around you to lock her gaze with yours,“ I know I’ve let you and Damien down and I will do everything I can to make it up to the both of you.” 

“Tasha.” You run a hand through your hair.“ I just don’t understand why? You are avidly making the choice to bail on us.”

“Because I’m scared Y/N. When Damien was born I thought I could do this despite everything I’ve ever known but I see him and the way you are with him and that’s how a mother is supposed to be with their child and I can’t be that. I’m not a mother.” 

It breaks your heart to hear that that’s how she feels. Only for it to break further at the tears that pool in her eyes. 

You reach for her hands, quick to reassure her,“ but you are a mother Natasha. And Damien loves you more than anything in this world. You were so good with him, the problem came when you stopped showing up. All he wants is your love and attention.”

Reaching up you wipe away the escaping tears.

“I know it can’t be easy for you. Coming up the way that you did I know this is all new to you but it is for me too. In a different way yes but still, we’re both learning. I just- I need you Natasha. This isn’t easy alone and whether you’re ready or not you made a promise to us to be here.” 

Natasha’s green eyes flicker away from you at that,“ I’m so sorry. I’ve been acting incredibly selfish.”

Little, shoe clad feet, connecting with the floor breaks the conversation. Damien rounds the corner, dressed and holding his backpack.

“Moms I’m ready.” He says with a bright smile, a mix of yours and Natasha’s.

You squeeze Natasha’s hand in yours, a promise to finish later. 

Together you take your son to school. Damien kissing your cheek before asking Natasha if he’ll be with you to pick him up.

She promises to and you make sure he gets in the school safely before going back home.

You fix two cups of tea and join your wife in the living room. 

Sitting side by side, thighs and shoulders pressed together, you both wait for the other to restart the conversation. 

“You’re a good mother Natasha. Damien adores you. And neither of us expect you to be perfect at this. Believe me I’ve made plenty of mistakes already. If he’s screwed up it’s my fault, not yours.” You partly joke. 

Natasha grabs your hand, fingers lacing with yours,“ I’m going to do everything I can to make it up to you and be here for you and our son. And I’m sorry I’ve made you feel so alone in this.”

“You’re forgiven my love,” you kiss the back of her hand,“ and we’ll figure this out together.” You joke,“ and Laura.” 

She laughs, fully pulling you into her embrace. After she sobers up she kisses your head. 

“I promise from here on out you two are my main priority.” 

[remmushound]

Hello! I have another request. Could you do a story where 2012 Donnie decides to use the Rise!Turtles' weapons for a test drive without their permission? I imagine 2012 Donnie trying to figure what kind of materials it has in order to create the mystic weapons and testing it out. But then things goes wrong and he attempted to fix it but can't. Bet the Rise!Turtles won't be so happy at Rise!Donnie's counterpart for taking their weapons without their permission.

@assanmaharielsreblogs

He had to get a better look at them. I mean, when else was he gonna get a chance like this one? In his world there was no magic— there was tech far behind his understanding, sure, but that was still tech. Tech that someone engineered, using their own knowledge, for a specific purpose. But here? It was all over the place! Just one patrol using Donatello’s goggles had keyed him into hundreds of mystical hotspots all around the city! He had seen their weapons in action, but he needed to see them closely— in controlled settings under a microscope! To see the inner workings and try to replicate them! If he could get his hands on that kinda tech, then he and his brothers would be unstoppable! And these guys were just using them like toys! Well, not on Donnie’s watch!

Michelangelo’s kusari-fundo had been a difficult thing to snatch. The box turtle was sleeping with the thing on his bed, hugging the weapon like it were a toy. If Donnie hadn’t known better, he’d have said the blades looked almost soft. Michelangelo snored just like Donnie’s Mikey did, tucked under a soft, fluffy comforter and dressed in an orange unicorn onesie. Mikey shared the bed with him (as did Leonardo with Leo and Raphael with Raph), but the older box turtle was sleeping like a rock.

Donnie carefully pried the tool from Michelangelo’s grip with the skill and delicate touch of a true ninja, quickly replacing it with a stuffed animal. Michelangelo gave a soft groan at the disturbance, but quickly hugged the toy as he settled once more. Donnie grinned and looked at the weapon in his hand. Staring into the slick, painted surface, Donnie almost thought he saw an eye staring back at him. He quickly shook his head, looked back, and the eye was gone. Just his mind playing a trick. Leonardo was next.

******

“What are you doing?”

Donnie almost screamed. “Wha— what are you doing awake?!”

Leonardo crossed his arms and glared, his face remarkably bare without his mask and only slightly stifled by a blue nightcap.

“I’m a ninja with crippling insomniac tendencies— sue me.” Leonardo said calmly. “What are you doing with my sword?”

“Uh.” Donnie glanced between Leonardo and the katana he was holding, “nothing?”

“Nothing?” Leonardo scrutinized with a piercing gaze that seemed to call Donnie out in his lie

Donnie hesitated, then sighed. He gave a light laugh and ran his hand across his head. “S-sorry! Just panicked. Other Donnie wants to uh. See if he can use some of the mystic energy from your katana to reverse-engineer a rift for us to get home— me and my brothers, I mean.”

“Ooookay.” Leonardo’s eyes betrayed his distrust, but he didn’t say a word against it, “just ask next time, okay?”

“Yeah. Will do.”

********

Getting the Tonfa from Raphael was nerve wracking. Access to Donatello’s staff was easy— Donnie already had permission to examine and admire its inner workings, so his touch was programmed into the systems anti-theft database as a non-threat. Michelangelo’s kusari-fundo required stealth, sure, and Leonardo’s sword required cunning, but this? This required him escaping with the Tonfa and from the crushing bite of a genetic predator. No matter how calm and content he acted while awake, after that first night’s run-in with savage Raph, Donnie was more than cautious to avoid another similar outburst. Lucky for him, the Tonfa were hung up at a safe distance from the snapper on the wall, and Raphael’s snoring drowned out any noise he might have made.

And just like that, Donnie had everything he needed for a test run. Of course, he was far more skilled with the familiar bō staff than with any of the other weapons (past experience had taught him just how difficult learning a new weapon could be, nevertheless mystic ones), so naturally Donatello’s bō was the first one to try out. Though it itself wasn’t of mystic origin, Donatello had stated many times of the mystic enhancements that made the weapon flourish from a simple multi-tool to what could classify as a weapon of mass destruction.

“Okay...” the staff, despite its greater size to the one he was used to, was surprisingly light in comparison. A quick weigh-in brought it to only fifteen pounds which, given the amount of tech it carried, was an incredible feat. Just how his younger counterpart could manage such a thing seemed almost impossible to the older Donnie’s mind, but that only served to scratch his curiosity even more! There were so many buttons on the shaft he didn’t even know where to start...

He went for the biggest button first out of pure, childish curiosity. This curiosity led to the worse possible outcome as the end of the bō furrowed out and turned into a compact rocket, which turned sideways on itself and shot out sparks of power. Donnie tried to catch himself, but it was too late. Already the power of the launcher dragged him off his feet and forced his unprepared body into a spin. It took his mind a few seconds to catch up with his body and press the same button to withdraw the blaster.

“Note to self... big button bad. Shoulda known that.”

From them on, he was much more careful with his examine. Every press of a button was met with a brace-for-impact in case a similar issue occurred, but he thankfully avoided such an outcome. One button shot a burst of electricity out the opposite side of the bō from where the blaster was, while another button shot two reinforced wings out either side to form a glider. Another button produced a blade on either side of the staff, and another revealed a compartment filled with gauze and alcohol thread and a needle safely tucked into a surgical pouch— an emergency kit, he supposed. He remembered Donatello also having a much bigger one in his battle shell, so this turtle obviously came prepared. Another compartment had a pair of glasses and a bottle of ibuprofen.

“Wow. No such thing as traveling light, I guess.”

He put the bō staff safely to the side before grabbing the Tonfa next. He placed both Tonfa on the table and the first thing he did was examine one of them under the microscope. It was nothing special— just redwood, as far as he could see— albeit old enough to date back to ancient Japan and perhaps even further. Then he put on Donatello’s goggles and looked at the Tonfa through the lenses, which opened up a whole new world of beauty to the normal-looking weapons.

The Tonfa lit up an impossible red, and on the screen appeared the word Muladhara. The red chakra— the root chakra as Donnie knew it best, represented by a red lotus with four petals. Vitality and strength. Instinctual tendencies and the densest of all seven chakras. The more his mind worked it over, the more it made sense. Muladhara was Raphael down to the finest detail. It commands attention and can be forceful at times. The color of passion and love and determination— the color of anger and daring. A color and chakra associated with abandonment and inherited trauma...

Donnie didn’t want to think about it anymore. And he didn’t dare try to activate the weapons knowing their power. He sat them aside and moved onto Leonardo’s katana.

Like the Tonfa, they were nothing special at first glance. Blades made from tamahagane steel common in ancient Japan, and the Tsuka was as unique as every tsuka, covered in ray skin and silken rope, with writing from the first ever wielder of the blade.

Anatawa Hitorijanai... you are not alone.

Under the goggles, another new vision of the mystic weapon opened up for him. The blue chakra of course— Vishuddha. The throat chakra. It took a lot more critical thought than with Raphael’s weapons, but Donnie supposed that the chakra could fit Leonardo. The balance of Vishuddha would speak truthfully, encouraging conversation and relying on self expression. Speaking with confidence and feeling compassion for those around you— communicating your worries even when you were scared to... but an unbalanced Vishuddha with no way to express it could easily lead to the anxiety Leonardo often felt in social settings. Perhaps his chakra was underactive, or blocked completely, by the feeling of something... unfulfilled in his life.

Donnie had more confidence experimenting with the teleporting sword than he did with the Tonfa. He wouldn’t have to go through it himself, he figured— he could just toss something through and study how it worked. He picked up the blade and looked it over before holding it out to the air in front of him. Leonardo had told him that he had to have a very clear image in his mind— no other thoughts clouding it. Any mistake or misthought could lead to an unstable portal, and unstable portals were extremely dangerous. You could get trapped between rifts, or get portal jacked, or end up hundreds of miles away from where you intended! Donnie closed his eyes to better imagine the room in front of him. Every fine detail... every flaw and crack and puddle and crawl space... every bug skittering around and every sound and every smell surrounding him like a cloud of mist.

He traced the blades point through the air and he was sure he could feel some minor resistance, but he kept focusing on the room. Droplets falling on the stone floor... forming puddles...echoing down the tunnels...

He completed the circle and opened his eyes. Immediately he pulled back as the brightest shade of turquoise almost blinded him, and after a moment of shielding his eyes he finally forced himself to look toward the brightness. The circle wasn’t perfect. In fact, the rift itself seemed almost squiggly, as if distorted by water. Distorted, but hopefully functional. Donnie took a pen out of his tool belt and reluctantly approached the portal, resisting against the temptation of its mystic pull and holding out the pen ready to throw it in. Then another thought occurred to him. What if he just…

He dropped the pen. At first the pen made as if it was going to fall but stopped midair by some otherworldly force. Then it was drawn to the portal and through it with a bubbling noise as it disappeared. Then another rift came to existence above Donnie and, before he could do anything more than look up to it, the pen fell out and hit him on the head.

“Ow.” It didn't hurt, but he said it anyway as he picked up the pen and put it back where it belonged. Curious. Very curious…

He took the sword and slashed through the original portal, destroying both it and its awkward counterpart with nothing more than a soft blip as the magic returned to the blade. There, no harm done! Now all that was left was Michelangelo’s.

A long chain, surprisingly rust-free for how far back it dated. The previous owners must have taken extreme care to keep it in the shape it was in. A chain that, despite how flexible and controlled it looked in Michelangelo’s skilled hands, was short and almost stiff in Donnie’s. The weighty was only on one end, as opposed to both as would be used with most kusari-fundo. A round weight with a ring of spikes across it. Donnie gave one point an experimental poke and yelped as it broke the skin and he started to bleed.

“Another note to self— pointy bit sharp.” He examined the serrated edges a bit longer before moving onto the goggle-inspection.

The sacral chakra, as Donnie had expected. Swadisthana, the orange chakra located in the lower belly. Connected to empathy and intimacy, pleasure both sensual and sexual. Creativity, fantasies, feelings. Everything that made up Michelangelo. An imbalance could lead to someone with boundary issues… yes, definitely Michelangelo, Donnie added to himself with a slight snort as he remembered just how clingy and touchy this world’s Michangelo’s was. At least his world’s always directed that touch-hunger to Raph or Leo and not to him.

A carving on the side of the weight caught Donnie’s attention and he spun it around to get a better view. The design was very faint, but it was there. It looked almost like a smiley face with closed eyes, something Donnie figured to have been added quite recently by Michelangelo. But further examination of it showed that the carving was old, as old as the weight itself, and installed by a previous owner. He even doubled and triple checked just to be sure he wasn’t seeing things.

Now all that was left to do was test it out. He had minor experience with chain weapons (the likes of which still haunted him to his day and made him give an uncomfortable shiver) and it wasn’t like he was actually going to fight with it! He was just going to test out the weight distribution and how effective it would be during fights since he had yet to see any of the other-world counterparts in battle.

He grabbed the handle securely, nodding at the nice distribution he was already feeling. He was just about to take a swing when he remembered the goggles still on his face and decided to take them off first, in case they somehow screwed with any of his data. He did so and turned to swing the kusari-fundo once more until something else this time stopped him in his tracks. 

The glow didn't stop. He had taken off the mystic sensors and he tapped his head just to be sure! But the glow didn't stop. The smiling face was a much more prominent yellow against the orange, and Donnie was sure its eyes had been closed before… 

The pupils in the eyes moved to stare at him and Donnie screamed and dropped the weapon in horror as he crawled back against the wall. The weapon pursued. On it’s own with no master or anything physical to command it. It drifted up and it’s living, flaming eyes followed Donnie’s every move. He made an experimental motion toward the door and the weapon made the same motion as it readied to pursue until Donnie returned to his original position.

The thud of approaching feet sealed Donnie’s fate in stone. Seconds later, seven mutant turtles poked their heads into the room, three of them armed and the other four looking confused and concerned by their lack of weapons. 

“Donnie?” Leo tried to make a motion to approach his brother, but quickly withdrew out of the room when the kusari-fundo gave a warning spark. “The hell’s that thing?”

“Sparky!” Michelangelo ran into the room confidently with his arms extended, his brothers spilling in after him.

“Wait, no!” 

Donnie awaited a terrifying assault that didn't happen. Instead, the fiery weapon subsided it’s flame and fell swiftly through the air to land in Michelangelo's arms. Michelangelo cuddled it closely and churred as he covered the tiny face in kisses.

Finally able to breath, Donnie went to part from the wall, but was stopped by a rough hand the size of his plastron.

The anger in Raphael’s eyes was uncanny. “You have a lot of explaining to do…”

[angelicymp]

Perhaps a little coaxing is needed...

Good evening my literary friends,

I am hoping to find a suitable partner for specific cravings and ideas I have in mind.

My introduction will be brief and a bit more to the point than usual. I am quite thorough and detail-oriented when it comes to being a writer, including some of my rules and preferences. However, since I believe it to be quite a hassle to go through every point I’m making, my ad will be a bit more compact.

A brief recap: You can call me Imp; I am in my twenties and a student, striving to become a part-time freelancer as well. My main hobbies are photography, traveling, drawing and of course, the art of writing. Currently, I reside in Europe, so my timezone could differ from yours, unless you are also from a similar region.

Be sure to read through my ad to see if we’re compatible. Too many times I’ve encountered cases where the inquirers skimmed through all of the info and upon messaging me, were surprised to learn that we weren’t a match from the beginning. So if you haven’t properly read my ad, I’ll know. I’d like to urge everyone to stick with it so there won't be any misunderstandings and not waste everyone’s time.

————————


Me, myself and I

(art by: Ayami Kojima)

♦ Nickname: Imp

♦ Experience: 12 years and counting

♦ Style: 1:1 with the inclusion of doubling

♦ Rating: Mature

♦ Roleplaying Platform: Email and Google Docs

♦ Chatting Platform: Email, Google Hangouts or Discord

♦ Pet peeves: Slice of Life


After finishing the game of Resident Evil 8 Village, I was struck by yet another muse.




I am currently looking for either a pre-existing canon inspired roleplay, or, something completely original. Be sure you are above the age of eighteen, preferably 21 and upwards. I will not accept any inquires from minors - this is not negotiable.

What to expect

♢  Content: Mature. I am more interested in darker things like horror, occultism, the supernatural, you can maybe guess where I am going with this. My limits are few, safe for a couple of minor pet peeves that I have, I am pretty much open to some experimentation; such as violence, gore and sexual themes. When it comes to heavy scenes, I will not fade to black, unless it serves no purpose to the story. Not a huge fan of censorship. However, I will not force or push my partner into something they are not comfortable with. If you want to know the extent to how far I am willing to go, what sort of content, or how graphic my writing will be, you can ask me directly.



♢ Rating: I have little to no issues with delving into more sensitive topics. Since reality is often stranger than fiction, it is very interesting to explore all sides of human nature, including the less comfortable subjects such as psychology, crime, etc. But I also like to remind that this is a world of fiction and no one in their right mind would condone such things in real life. The world of adults is not easy to handle, but it sure is interesting to explore. So if you are a gentle soul and can’t take the heat of more serious moments within the roleplay, be it a character going through trying times, etc; this might not be ideal for you.

♢ Writing: My texts are considerably lengthy, detailed, and elaborate. Third-person is usually my preferred way of playing my character unless there’s a special case where an exception can be made. Word count usually fluctuates, though I have a standard form of 400-500+ words per reply. It also highly depends on the given situation.

♢ Romancing: I admit to being a hopeless romantic. There’s nothing more enjoyable than witnessing good and powerful chemistry between two characters. Preferably I go for the usual MxF pairing dynamic but I am also open to FxF and MxM, should it feel more fitting. While doubling, I can write the character/love interest to my partner’s desire, but I always aim to stay true to their personality and character. I hate nothing more than forcing characters into a relationship, especially if there’s no spark, so I won’t respond well to being pressured into letting characters act out of their personality. It’s just not realistic. As for smut, or what have you, I have no issues with adding a few spicy scenes, sometimes even drawing them out of our pleasure. When there is, however, a running theme where sexual themes are taking the focal point of the plot, it can become quite boring. It is never the center of any of my roleplays, so be warned.

♢ Plotting: I am fairly quick when it comes to building new characters, concepts, premises, storylines, backstories, etc. It allows me a certain latitude. Feel free to communicate your ideas and thoughts with me. I am happy to chat, even when it doesn’t involve the roleplay directly. Though this is a hobby, I am still extremely passionate about good storytelling and interesting character arcs. I hope to meet someone who is just as enthusiastic and willing to put in the same amount of effort. If it’s only me who’s pulling all the weight, I will lose interest and feel forced to end the correspondence.

No gos

♦ Won’t do: Pedophilia, Necrophilia, Bestiality, Scat, Vore, Toilet Play, etc. I am sure you can also think of many other strange fetishes that have developed over the years spent on the internet.

♦ Won’t write: The idea of supernatural beings trying to fit into human society. The typical bully x victim storyline. The run-of-the-mill vampires vs werewolf plot. BDSM centred stories. Slice of life. Flawless or excessively flawed characters.

What I expect

♢ Literacy: You should at least have a decent grasp of basic grammar and coherency in your spelling.

♢ Flexibility: Since we all have lives outside of the roleplay, we both need to be flexible. Sometimes our schedules may differ, and if life is currently intervening, we can take things a bit easier. Plus, I can’t always respond every second of every day, either. This should be considered a hobby and not a job. If a hiatus is on the rise, there is no problem with putting things on ice until things clear up.

♢ Experience: And by that, I don’t mean how many years you’ve roleplayed, rather the experience that comes with age and emotional maturity. Especially if you want to write stories with grit.

♢ Open to doubling: Quick explanation. Doubling is when we play two main characters each. The dynamic is as follows; I write your chosen love interest against your main character while you do the same for me.

♢ Long term: Only long-term partnerships.

♢ Sharing the spotlight: Don’t forget, this is all about you too! Let me know all your specific cravings, interests, or wants that you want to be included into the roleplay.

Cravings

♦ Urban fantasy: Supernaturals, demons, spirits, vampires, you name it. I’d be more interested in something original and unique, especially when it comes to vampirism and demonic entities.

♦ Dark Sci-Fi: So this is a bit inspired by Resident Evil. A world where monsters become a vicious reality, generating fear among the people they come in contact with. But as it turns out, these monsters are not supernatural, but rather infected or mutated by a virus that cannot be explained.

♦ History, mythology, and folklore: An interesting take on the historical timeline, where legends and myths were once a reality. However, their existence was greatly misrepresented in the storybooks, sometimes even completely distorted. Our characters could be accidental time travelers who have been sent from the future to see it with their own eyes. Inspirations are mostly Slavic, European, and ancient folklore from all over the world.

♦ Crime with a dark twist: Mafias, organized crime, and corrupted politicians run this town. All of them have one thing in common. A particular drug that grants humans superhuman abilities; but at a cost. The drug will turn force the users to reject their humanity to instead embrace their monstrosity.

Canon & Fandoms

♢ Castlevania: Rather the original games than the Netflix series. But I am also not opposed to tackling the Netflix universe.

♢ Devil May Cry: Every game is game. Except for the reboot. Never played that one.

♢ Invincible: Not so invincible.

♢ Resident Evil: Village is one of the best games I’ve ever played. Periodt.

♢ Harry Potter: Next gen anyone?

————————

If you made it this far, I am glad you managed to hold on, lol. If you found what I wrote, agreeable and have a similar interests to mine, feel free to message me on this email adress.

You can also contact me via DM on my Tumblr blog, though preferably, I would rather be more receptive on Email since I am more active there. And it’s a lot more personal as well.

Email: impish.and.angelic@gmail.com

Hope to see you there.

I wish you all a lovely day my fellow readers!

-Imp

[siremasterlawrence]

The Mirror: Not A Match

Part 1

I hate human beings, I hate the constant need to devalue people, and I will squash a few.

His name is Daniel not much in high list of people, but because of proximity I think he is work a look.

He is my boss a total asswipe who I find very attractive and extremely annoying simultaneously.

I could not wait for the moment his mirror blows up with black and white lite in a form of a spiral.

His eyes instantly become attached to my thrall turning to face him and he falls deep in to void.

He stands mentally broken lost in a foggy haze when I jump out of the mirror into his body.

Part 2

His body freezes upon contact with mine as his body begins to shiver falling over

He falls forward on to the ground knocked out cold, and I woke up in his place soon.

I fought him hard locking him up in to a private room I left just for him in his mind.

Kicking the space down I shape it into a small box, taking the key out and kick it even further.

I rises to my feet staring at the ugly white reflecting winking back at me but it’s ok for now.

At least he handsome I think posing with my ringer fiddling with my ring.

Part 3

My hands hook on to the buttons undoing each one a step at time curiouser.

Moving closer I can’t believe this average size man has the ego to think he is so good.

The world is fucking joke I giggle a bit at him removing his shirt.

“I could do worse I get”

“I can feel his ego is so bruised chump”

“People are so morons so over this idiot”

Part 4

Lifting my under shirt over my head the sun light just the mirror.

I marvel at the beauty of the nature this world can produce and disgust at its keepers.

“What should I wear on my day off?”

“He is a terrible boss might as well use it to my advantage.”

“I rummage through his closet changing in to sleek salmon color tee.”

“Maybe the black one? Hmm”

Part 5

“God I hate you, fuck this “

“Fuck you !”

“I am gonna make shit example of you “

“Of all men like you “

“Take everything you have “

“Leave you with nothing but a need “

Part 6

“Yeah I am not coming in today get your ass in to gear.”

“No don’t ask me for shit”

“That’s what I pay you to do”

“I expect results tomorrow “

“Listen you troll”

“Better make some bank”

Part 7

I head over to my office closet pulling out my underwear from the top shelf.

Quickly changing in to my under shirt and shirt jacket.

I swing in the mirror a big smile on my Ugh face.

I head out of the room reaching out for my sunglasses.

Texting my lawyer to meet me at a coffee shop.

He is so shock at the fact that I am so relaxed and cool it’s affect calming him.

Part 8

“Is everything prepared the exact way that I wished?”

“To your specifications but why?”

“It’s not for you to question me accept and do as I say”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“You are different?”

“Not like any other?”

Part 9

Exiting his body I left him alone in a club in the middle of nowhere.

He is so dazed as he came out going for a drink.

“He sits the at counter unsure of his fair of future.

He is compelled without logic go down the drink, slam the glass on the counter.

He walks out digging for his keys he sighs driving off to the bridge he presses the peddle hard.

The car rose across the bridge hitting a rock, exploding on compact and he is set free.

“It’s finished Master” he says dialing mj cellphone number.

Hanging up he throws his cellphone, keys, wallet, and everything in to the ocean.

Walking off in to the abyss he is never heard of or seen from again.

The end

[nelliebrookstone]

( BRIANNE HOWEY, 29, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER ) * hey, i’m looking for the office of ELEANOR ‘NELL’ BROOKSTONE. they’re the EMPLOYEE who’s known around the office as THE BURN BOOK, if that helps ? not to be a gossip, but i’ve heard that they’re SUPPORTIVE but PETTY, is that true ? i also heard that they’re the one who CRIED IN THE BATHROOM BECAUSE SOMEONE TOOK HER YOGURT. anyways, here’s the coffee they ordered.

Greetings Earthlings, my name is Asha I am simply a fellow human from planet earth looking to hang out with my cool friends at the Build-A-Bear. I’m excited to be here! I have more information on Eleanor (nellie if you know here, nell if you don’t) below the cut! If you give this a lil like I’ll slide into your exclusive tumblr DMs to plot! 

So, who is Nell? Well let me tell you. As far as most people know, Nell is a former Masters Model turned Head of Talent Management for models. She’s a mix of sweet Alabama charm and scary dead smile energy, and she always has a compact for you to borrow in her purse. Most people know she always has a perfect french manicure and knows most people by first name. You might also know she recently divorced Parker and is no longer using his last name, please do not call her Mrs. Carson she’ll cry in the bathroom and then leave you a bad yelp review. You’re not even on yelp, you say? She’ll make one for you and then leave a bad review. 

But like a curated Insta, this ain’t it folks. So buckle up. (I say this dramatically but tbh she has had a pretty stable life)

Nellie grew up in a smallish town in Alabama. If you ask her, it wasn’t small at all. But it certainly was compared to large city centers, and definitely compared to New York. It was the kind of town where everyone knew your business, and Nellie had a lot of business. 

She was a teen queen! Head cheerleader, student president, shining volunteer of the county and Lady Alabama of 2010 (not to be confused with Miss Alabama, but if you ask her it’s basically the same thing). She was very involved in her community and her parents were well known in the area for their construction company. Everyone loved her that she was like the golden child of the town.

It was a great, privileged life! Her parents got married young, had a bunch of kids, and had the means to care for them! Her parents also have a very genuine love story, still passionate about each other years later. She and her sisters (all five of them) have always wanted a life like their parents’. 

The one difference between her and her parents remained her desire to roam and see the world. She wanted to travel, or at least live in a place where she could meet new people from new places. Moving to New York seemed like a great place to get some experience, though if you ask her mother she probably got the idea from some dumb TV show. She did. It was a lot of shows. And a lot of movies. There were a ton of romantic comedies that TRULY shaped this desire. 

she started sending in applications to various schools in New York. She was an honor list student with a lot of extra-circulars and passion to be at these places that shown through on all her apps. She got many a rejection, the one from Columbia was the hardest. It was the worst thing that ever happened to her at the time, so you can imagine how her life must have been. 

She DID get accepted to NYU for Public Relations! CHEERS ALL AROUND! She was so excited. She was gonna see the world and be a big city bitch 10/10. In college, she was quickly involved in everything from various clubs, to sorority, to trying to get involved with the community. It didn’t work out as well. New York was just such a different town...in that it was...big. And she wasn’t used to that. 

But she did meet a funky guy named Parker Carson! And they fell in love! And here is a short synopsis of their relationship: 

they met at a department store. Parker looked a little lost in the dress shirt area so she helped him pick out an outfit and the rest was, as they say, history. 

they had a great relationship at first, full of love and passion and fun times. he had a pokemon tattoo, she used to play pokemon snap. what a team! 

but really, they had a great time together...which led them to get married real early. In fact, for Nell, this was even a little late. She thought she’d be married with kids by 23. 

a lot of little things led to their downfall, but it can be boiled down to not fully understanding what it takes to live with another person who doesn’t mesh with your lifestyle. A big issue for Nell was kids. She wanted them, right then and there. He didn’t! No one’s fault, but it seemed to be a block they couldn’t get over. 

they’re divorced now. it’s fresh. she’s got a lot of conflicts about it. She cannot believe she is divorced before 30. she cannot believe she doesn’t have kids by now. She is under the impression she’s run out of time for everything, which is not true at all but it’s how she feels. She’s none too fond of the man at the moment. 

But listen! Nellie is a fun girl! She’s got a lot of ~zest~ for life and likes to do new things and try new places. She’s also just as comfortable spending the day at home on the couch with everything she needs within arms reach. She seems like someone who would be into partying but that’s really not her scene. She’s a brunch girl, a drive-thru movie theater girl, and an all-day 90 day fiance girl. She has an addiction to cherry cokes and always misses her stop on the subway because she gets distracted listening to her music and zoning out. She cries a lot during sad AND happy movies and can’t eat pork because she once knew a pig named Babe (no relation to the famous babe). Her favorite animal is the octopus and she volunteers with the homeless shelter every weekend. 

All of this doesn’t really come across in her work persona. She always seems like she’s extremely put together and very good at what she does. She’s quick, snappy, and not afraid to speak her mind. She’s a master at the backhanded compliment and is the master of the delayed burn (you won’t know you’ve been roasted until she’s down the hallway). She has a very charming way of speaking with a thick southern accent and tons of sayings that no one knows the meaning of, but sometimes that Nice Southern Girl smile comes out and you know she would be stabbing you if such an act were socially acceptable. Despite this, Nellie doesn’t think she’s a mean person. 

But I’m sure there are MANY people who think she is. Because...sometimes she is! No one is perfect, and she definitely has a reputation of being a major pain in the ass if you’re on her bad side. Nell remembers EVERY slight against her. Oh, she remembers when you commented on the amount of emails she sends. She remembers when you mentioned that you thought her font type was a little too bold. She remembers it all...and stores it in her mental burn book. 

This also happens often because she is...pretty sensitive. And because she’s going through a divorce, which is NOT what she had planned for in life, she’s like a stubbed toe away from a full cry every day. She’s started to invest in waterproof mascara but it’s not working out. She really DID cry in the bathroom over her yogurt. She also came back the next day and wrote a VERY angry letter on the fridge titled ‘to the person who likes to take things that don’t belong to them, I hope your mother knows she raised a THIEF.’

As petty as she can be, she’s also a great person to have in your corner. If you’re a friend, she will fight for you to the end. She’s very loyal and will often drop whatever she’s doing if you need her. She can be very generous, no expenses spared to lift up someone she loves. If you’re a friend of hers, she’s a great friend. The kind you can call at 2 am when she’s dead asleep and she’ll still come help you move out of your shitty ex’s apartment. 

Basically, Nell is a whole lot of things. Not all of them are great. But she likes to think of herself as a good person that cares about other people. She generally is! She’s also fairly good at having heart to heart conversations, and isn’t afraid to own her mistakes if she’s not still upset about the issue. But she’ll also try to ruin your career if you steal her yogurt. Fun! 

I’ll add more as I think of it, but for now I’m here for all the plots. Best friends, enemies, the person who caught her crying in the bathroom, the person who caught her angrily scribbling her name on all her yogurt, you name it! 

[addictedtoeddie]

The full Esquire Spain interview translated from Spanish:  

Eddie Redmayne trial: guilty of being the most talented (and stylish) actor of his generation

The Oscar winner talks about what it means to premiere a film with Aaron Sorkin (The Chicago 7th Trial on Netflix) and filming the new part of the most famous saga of all time under the watchful eye of its author, J.K. Rowling.

By Alba Díaz (text) / JUANKR (photos and video) / Álvaro de Juan (styling) 10/23/2020  

At the Kettle’s Yard Gallery in Cambridge, stands alone and leaning on a piano Prometheus, a marble head made by Constantin Brâncusi, and the only piece of art that Eddie Redmayne (London, 1982) would save from possible massive destruction. He tells me about it as he leaves the filming set of the third installment of Fantastic Beasts in the early days of an autumn that, we suspect, we will never forget. It begins to get dark as the actor nods seriously: "I promise to do my best in this interview."

Eddie Redmayne made himself in the theater despite some voices warning him that he could not survive in it. "Many people were in charge to tell me that it would never work, that only extraordinary cases make it and that I would not be able to live from this professionally." Even his father came home one day with a list of statistics on unemployed young actors. Redmayne, who is extremely modest, polite and funny, adds: “But I enjoyed theater so much that I got to the point of thinking that if I could only do one play a year for the rest of my life… I would do it. And that would fill me completely.

Spoiler: since then until today he has participated in many more. He set his first foot in the industry when he debuted at the Shakespeare’s Globe Theater and won over critics and audiences. He then landed his first major role in My Week with Marilyn opposite Michelle Williams. And then came one of the roles of his life, the character he wanted to become an actor for, Marius. With him he sang, led a revolution and broke Cosette's heart in Les Miserables. “I found out about the Les Misérables auditions when I was shooting a movie in Illinois. Dressed like a cowboy. I picked up the iPhone and videotaped myself singing the Marius song. I always wanted to be him ”.

Now Redmayne is an Oscar winner - thanks to his portrayal of Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything - and the protagonist of one of the most important sagas in history, Fantastic Beasts. He plays the magizoologist Newt Scamander in it. When I ask him what it means to him to be the protagonist of a magical world that is so important to millions of people, Eddie sighs and takes a few seconds to answer. “I have always loved the Harry Potter universe. Some people like The Lord of the Rings or Star Wars ... But, for me, the idea that there is a magical world that happens right in front of you, that happens without going any further on the streets of London, that. .. That exploded my imagination in another way.

During the quarantine, J. K. Rowling, who has been in charge of the script of the film, sparked a controversy through a series of tweets about transgender women. Redmayne assures that he does not agree with these statements but that it does not approve of the attacks of some people through social networks. The actor was one of the first to position himself against Rowling alongside Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and other protagonists of her films. "Trans women are women, trans men are men, and non-binary identities are valid."

After having spent a while talking, Redmayne confesses to me that he has never been a big dreamer not to maintain certain aspirations that ended up disappointing him. So he has always kept a handful of dreams to himself. One of them was fulfilled just a few weeks ago with the premiere of The Trial of the Chicago 7, a film written and directed by Aaron Sorkin that can already be seen on Netflix and in some - few - cinemas. “I was on vacation with my wife in Morocco and the script arrived. I think I called my agent before I even read it and said yes, I would. She probably thought the obvious, that I'm stupid. After that, of course I read the script, which is about a specific moment in history that I knew very little about. I found it exciting and a very relevant drama in today's times. "

And it is that having a script by Aaron Sorkin in your hands is no small thing. Eddie Redmayne has been a fan of his work ever since he saw The West Wing of the White House. “His scripts have delicious language and dialogue. As an actor, it's fun to play characters that are much smarter than you are in real life. That virtuosity is hard to come by. I really hope that audiences enjoy this movie and feel that there is always hope. " He remembers that since he released The Theory of Everything he has recorded, to a large extent, English period dramas, “and although the new Aaron Sorkin is not strictly contemporary,” says Redmayne, “to be able to wear jeans and shirts and sweaters instead of so much tweed is great ”.

Besides acting, art was the only thing the actor was interested in, so he ended up studying Art History at Cambridge University. “My parents are quite traditional and when I told them I wanted to act they gave me free rein but on the condition that I study a career. And I'm very grateful for that because ... Look, beyond that, when I play a real character I usually go to the National Portrait Gallery in London quite often. There I lock myself up. Now, for Sorkin's film, I went through a lot of photographs and videotapes. Art helps me to be more creative, to get into paper ”. If he were not an actor, he would be, he says decidedly, a historian or perhaps a curator. "Although I think he would be a very bad art curator."

Against all logic, Eddie Redmayne is color blind. But there is a color that you can distinguish anywhere and on any surface: klein blue. He wrote his thesis on the French artist Yves Klein and the only shade of blue he used in his works. He wrote up to 30,000 words talking about that color with which he became obsessed. “It is surprising that a color can be so emotional. One can only hope to achieve that intensity in acting. "

Like his taste for art, which encompasses the refined and compact, Redmayne seems to be in the same balance when it comes to the roles he chooses. When I ask him what aspects a character he wants to play should have, he takes a few seconds again before answering: “I wish I had a more ingenious answer but I will tell you that I know when my belly hurts. It's that feeling that I trust. In my mind I transport him to imagine myself playing that character. When I read a script I have to really enjoy it. You never fully regret those instincts. It's like when you connect with something emotionally. "

So we come to the conclusion that all his characters have some traits in common. "You know what? I never look back, and this is something personal, but I do believe that there is a parallel between Marius in Les Misérables trying to be a revolutionary, someone who is quite prone to being distracted by love but at the same time is willing to die for his cause, and Tom Hayden from The Chicago Trial of the 7 who was a man who had integrity and was passionate and fought for the things he believed in. So I suppose there may also be similarities between a young Stephen Hawking and Newt Scamander. There are traits in common in all of them that I don't really know where they come from ”.

When we talk about the year we are living in, in which it is increasingly difficult to find hope, we both let out a nervous laugh. "There must be," Redmayne says. “There is something very nice that Tom Hayden, the character I play in Sorkin's film, said to his former wife, actress Jane Fonda, just the day before she passed away. He told her that watching people die for their beliefs changed his life forever. In that sense, I also think about what Kennedy Jr. wrote about how democracy is messy, tough and never easy ... As is believing in something to fight for. I look at history and how they were willing to live their lives with that integrity to change the world and I realize that somehow that spirit still remains with us. " We fell silent thinking about it. "There must be hope."

I tell him about my love for Nick Cave's blog, The Red Hand, and one of the posts that I have liked the most in recent weeks. In it, the singer affirms that his response to a crisis has always been to create, an impulse that has saved him many times. For Redmayne there are two activities that can silence noise: drawing and playing the piano. “When you play the piano your concentration is so consumed by trying to hit that note that you can't think of anything else. Similarly, when you draw something, the focus is between the paper and what you are trying to recreate ... There I try to calm my mind.

Before saying goodbye, I drop a question that I thought I knew the answer to, but failed. What work of art would you save from mass destruction? "How difficult! I could name my favorite artists but still couldn't choose a work. Only one piece? Let me think. I am very obsessed with Yves Klein, but I would stick with a work by Brancusi. There is a sculpture of him, a small head called Prometheus, in Cambridge's Kettle’s Yard, on a dark mahogany piano. The truth is that I find it very ... beautiful ”.

Before leaving, he confesses to me - with a childish and slow voice - that he would like to direct something one day. We said goodbye, saying that we will talk about his next project. Next, the first thing I do is open the Google search engine. "P-r-o-m-e-t-h-e-u-s". Although Eddie Redmayne has trouble distinguishing violet from blue, he doesn't have them when choosing a good piece. He's right, that work deserves to be saved.

* This article appears in the November 2020 issue of Esquire magazine

Source: esquire.com/es/actualidad/cine/a34434114/eddie-redmayne-juicio-7-chicago-netflix-entrevista/

[itsuki-minamy]

FOUR SEASONS OF K: “THE FIRST DREAM OF THE NEW YEAR”

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

He had a dream like this.

The power of the Slate that was taken from Mihashira's tower was finally released, and the world he had wished for was realized. This is a new stage where everyone has power.

What kind of world Nagare had dreamed of, Sukuna came out with his beloved sickle on his shoulder.

The place where he came out through the escape from the dark secret base was quite noisy.

Everyone is suddenly confused by the power they have obtained. The power of a child is out of control and he is crying.

Sukuna thought that they couldn't do it because they were still babies in this powerful world created by Nagare. Just as newborn babies do not know how to move their bodies, those who have just gained power cannot understand how to handle that power. But that is also a moment. Finally, the baby gets up, speaks words, thinks, and moves. They will eventually learn how to handle their power and survive in this world. Those who cannot survive simply die. That is the new game that Nagare has built in this world.

As he walked, he found a narrow park. There was no play equipment, just a small space with a bench and a drinking fountain.

There was a boy standing there.

Looking at him, Sukuna opened his eyes slightly. He was once Sukuna's best friend.

"Sukuna."

He laughed with a mocking smile.

He was the first friend Sukuna accepted before meeting Nagare. But he and Sukuna parted ways. Back then, both he and Sukuna were dominated by something beyond them. He was dominated, killed his will, abandoned his potential, and lived.

Sukuna escaped from there and he couldn't escape. The path between them was cut off.

"Sukuna, did you do this?"

A green light overflowed from his body, flailing freely, without restraint.

"Incredible, Sukuna."

He was radiating a green light and laughing with a full face. Seeing the smile, Sukuna knew that she was no longer under the control of the others.

It is not surprising. The world created by Nagare is a world where all humans become "kings". They are all the same there.

It is a world where you can expand your potential with your own power, without being ruled by anyone.

Sukuna laughed with a wrinkled face and said.

"You are the only King you have, Hikotaro."

With an itch rising from the bottom of his belly, Sukuna kicked the ground with an impulse.

With one kick, he leaps to the ceiling and runs from ceiling to ceiling, almost flying in the sky.

The breeze on his cheeks makes him feel good. His heart was released, and Sukuna laughed and flew like a free beast.

In a pleasant sweat, Sukuna spread his arms as he climbed onto the roof of the tallest building he could see.

There was a sign of someone standing next to him. It was a style in which black clothes fluttered in the wind.

To Sukuna, who has seen him hiding in the dimly lit basement and was only strapped in a restraint suit in a wheelchair, Nagare's appearance of standing firmly under the blue sky was reflected recently.

"Nagare. I'm glad we made your dream come true together.''

Sukuna narrowed his eyes as he blew his hair and coat in the wind. His body was still full of strength and he was dying to release it.

"The other is the 'King'."

"Affirmative."

"He is a 'King' just like Nagare.''

"Yes."

Nagare was laughing. Sukuna also laughed. He thought it would be fun if he could compete with the current situation, so Sukuna flipped his sickle over and turned around.

Nagare. Do it with me.''

"Good. It's a match."

From Nagare's body, the green stream is emitted coldly. Sukuna also entered the game, by strengthening the output of the sickle that glows in green, he got into an exciting game.

++++++++++

He had a dream like this.

After seeing his wishes fulfilled, Mishakuji set out on a solo journey.

The days when he shared his style dreams were fun. The stream of dreams that no one else can see is beautiful, and the time spent with their "King" and running around as a member of "Jungle" was really enjoyable.

However, now that his ambition has been realized, he doesn’t want to stay with them because of his passion.

The new world created by Nagare is a world where each person is proud of their own brilliance. It was Yukari's way to survive beautifully in this world of Nagare where all the radiance collides.

It was a beautiful moonlit night.

Yukari was walking along the mountain path, while the golden full moon, which was fading into a faint soft glow, shone in the light.

When he thought it was a memorable road, he found the silhouette of a memorable person at the end of the road.

A person in a haori and hakama and a soft hat. Stand in good posture with his sword on the ground like a cane. Yukari was defeated and squinted at the image of an unforgettable person in the moonlight.

"Ichigen-sama."

Yukari called him to talk about what was important.

The person in front of Yukari, Ichigen Miwa, was illuminated by the moonlight and looked white and bright.

"God has come a long way."

His voice was deep and resonated wonderfully in the night air.

"Yes, I have reached this point when I have been looking for something beautiful. You can be angry when you work for a harmonious world. Ichigen-sama, can you stand in front of me?"

He laughs a little like a breath.

"Did you want me to stand up?"

Ichigen goes to the core so that it can be inserted smoothly. Yukari narrowed his eyes gently.

"Yes. The view I'm looking for can go back to this starting point."

"No, I am just a symbol. I think I am here now as a symbol of the shining moment of your soul that you seek for the future."

He can hear the sound of insects. It is a suitable sound to add color to this beautiful night.

"The beauty of the naked body of life that I can only see when I prepare myself and wield power. Ichigen-sama, I saw the extreme of that moment when I exchanged swords when I left you. I still vividly remember the blood that I felt on the tip of my sword. and the feel of the tip of your sword against my throat.''

Ichigen Miwa looks at Yukari with a kind expression. Yukari smiled back at him as well and drew the sword from his back. A famous sword passed down by Miwa.

"At that time, Ichigen-sama's body was already sick. It might have been brilliant because the life time limit had been set. I also thought that I wanted to get involved. Me too, I'm better than I was back then."

A person who is the seventh king, who is also called the weakest "King", but who possesses an incomparable sword arm and who has a gentle and kind personality who does not like to fight, but who is also terribly scary.

In a word, the sword was drawn while maintaining the soft atmosphere.

It's like being a careless child, holding a sword that looks like a baby, before a careless Miwa.

"It is a sword that crosses the dream of the beginning."

++++++++++

He had a dream like this.

Kotosaka became a human being.

Sukuna is tall enough to look down easily, and is more compact and cooler than Yukari.

He correctly uses a spoon to eat curry made by Iwafune, and he use chopsticks to eat fried chicken.

"Kotosaka has become a human. He is a modified clan bird. I am truly impressed."

Nagare said, and patted Kotosaka on his head to praise him.

Kotosaka was proud to work as a stylish "guide". He can freely fly anywhere and show everything through his own eyes in an immovable way.

However, Nagare who fulfilled his dream was free because he was no longer tied to anything. Instead of looking through Kotosaka's eyes, he can go see whatever he want to see with Kotosaka.

Kotosaka invited Nagare to see the outside world.

"Kotosaka, will you take me?"

Kotosaka was very nervous.

Kotosaka became a person, but was originally a good bird. There is no such thing as flying.

A ceiling door opened and light shone through a dimly lit secret base. The blue sky was visible, and Kotosaka took the current hand and flew into the blue sky.

Kotosaka and Nagare were flying in the air, holding their two hands together. Reaching out and gliding on the updraft.

Feeling the warm sunlight on their back and the cool breeze on their face and belly, they fly in a wide sky. Downstairs, there was a little energetic human activity.

"Kotosaka was always looking at this kind of scenery."

Nagare told Kotosaka.

Nagare was always looking at the scene reflected in Kotosaka's eyes. However, Kotosaka wanted to teach him that the scenery seen while feeling the wind and the temperature and the cut of the air is the best.

As he looked at the ground from the sky, he spoke about everything that Kotosaka had seen and known.

Nagare listened to everything Kotosaka spoke with great interest.

"Kotosaka knows a lot."

Kotosaka is proud of his compliments as if he knows everything about the world.

“After all, a bird that can fly anywhere is good. I will also try to become a bird sometime.''

Nagare said. It seemed like a very good idea.

When he thought that Nagare's body glowed green, Nagare turned into a large bird in the next moment. Powerfully flap its wings and fly in front of Kotosaka. Kotosaka was happy.

He thought it would be nice to be a human, but he thought it would be very good to fly with Nagare, so when Kotosaka returned to his parrot form, he flaunted his wings alongside Nagare.

++++++++++

He had a dream like this.

Nagare was at sea at night.

It is a place where Nagare once lost everything and became brand new.

At the bottom of the sea in southern Kanto, many lives that were lost a dozen years ago sleep.

Nagare's dream came true. Everyone has power, and even in the event of a tragedy, each can resist with their own power.

Still, what was lost never returns.

Nagare is not sorry. No matter what the miserable past is, the past is what makes it the present.

He does not cry, but he is not without emotion. Nagare was looking out to sea, thinking about the lives of his family, friends and many who died here.

If he turns around, he can see the light shining through the darkness of the night. The humans who have gained power are the lights that are exercising their power.

It can be said that those lights were created because a life was lost in this wolf-dark sea.

Nagare continues to gaze out to sea.

The landscape, which was dark and black, and the boundary between sky and sea was unknown, gradually began to turn white before Nagare looked at it. Light is emitted and the horizon shines, indicating the limit between the sky and the sea. The sky slowly turns blue.

Finally, the sun poked its head out, burning the horizon red. The sea that sank black reflected the sunlight, creating a path of light on the surface of the sea.

He thought it was a scene that symbolized the beginning of the new stage and wondered if this was the first sunrise of the year.

After thinking, Nagare realized that this was a dream.

++++++++++

He had a dream like this.

Iwafune was standing in the kitchen at the secret “Jungle” base as usual, and was making ozoni.

Boiled minced radish, flower-shaped carrots, small shiitake mushrooms, bite-sized whole chicken thighs in bonito soup, and a dash of light soy sauce and sake. He put the baked rice cake in a bowl, poured in the boiled ingredients and the soup broth, and garnished with the spinach and red and white kamaboko that had been boiled separately. Finally, he put a citron and a leaf.

"Well, it's done."

He served the entire ozoni bowl to a customer who sat in front of the Chabudai.

The guest was a mysterious-eyed boy with pale golden hair down his back. Younger than Sukuna, a boy with an innocent face, but praises the atmosphere that seems to be much older than Iwafune.

A strange boy. However, it was a boy who felt like he knew him for some reason.

He silently looked at the bowl placed in front of him, raised his eyes, and looked at Iwafune's face.

"Only you don't understand."

The boy said in a transparent voice that does not reflect his emotions.

Iwafune tilts his neck as he opens the beer handle.

"I do not understand?"

"Isn't there a scene where you pray that you want to be like this?"

Iwafune mused with a glass of beer.

A scene to pray. There used to be such a thing. Iwafune was trying to create an ideal home in his world, a place where everyone could be saved.

"Cathedral". A clan that was headed with a "King" when Iwafune Tenkei was Otori Seigo. The way to pray when he was still dreaming.

He may wonder if he should pray for a scene that was not missed. Once upon a time, all the people who followed Seigo in "Cathedral" died. There were countless nights of regret and hope for a world free from that tragedy.

However, Otori Seigo who was praying is no longer there.

Here is Iwafune Tenkei. Iwafune doesn't pray. Look. The path that a "King" has protected and raised.

Iwafune smiled and took another sip of beer.

"In return, it's okay if I can see them."

The boy's mysterious eyes stare straight at Iwafune. It was a bit awkward looking into his eyes, which made him see through it all, Iwabune's hips ached.

"Well, yes."

Iwafune pointed to the butt of the beer can on the ozoni bowl in front of the boy.

"They ate the ozoni I made and laughed deliciously, that's enough."

The child's eyes rest on the bowl. He wondered if he was interested or not, just the big, round, wide eyes that stare over low heat and gently lift the bowl.

The boy's small lips are glued to the edge of the bowl.

The slightly tilted bowl was placed on a table and the boy said...

"Your prayers will come true."

He didn't really understand, but he wishes he could see what the boy said.

++++++++++

"I had a strange dream."

Yukari said, as he sat around the kotatsu.

"I had a good first dream. The Slate plan was launched in full power, and the dream plan went the way I wanted it!"

Sukuna is happy. Oh, and Yukari raised his eyebrows.

"It's strange. I dreamed that same part. It was a dream after Nagare-chan's wish was fulfilled."

"Eh? So what were you doing Yukari?"

"Secret."

"Wow!"

When he heard the conversation between Mishakuji and Sukuna, Nagare opened his eyes.

"I had a similar dream."

"Really?"

"Yes. However, I woke up early because I realized it was a dream in my dream."

"Isn't it like we all have a similar first dream, or is it good for the start of the New Year?"

Kotosaka squawked to match the playful Sukuna. Screaming loudly, flying through the secret room at the base. The wings fluttered with a high tension wingbeat.

"Hey, Kotosaka-chan. Did you have a dream too?"

"Dream! Dream!"

"Well, whatever dream Kotosaka had, it seems good."

"Kuwatsu!"

While trying to fight Kotosaka, who rests on his head and raises his claws, Sukuna looks at Iwafune.

"Iwa-san? Did you see anything in your first dream?"

Iwafune was standing in the kitchen preparing ozoni.

"Hmm? It was a dream about making ozoni."

"What is that?"

"So, I woke up and actually became a varied person, so I wonder if it's a true dream."

"That is not the case if you are dreaming a dream. If you dream it, it is our dream!"

"What? Isn't it tasty, Sukuna?"

"It is!"

Iwafune laughed lightly at Sukuna, who had sharp lips.

Immediately next to the room in the secret base is the Slate stolen from the Mihashira Tower on Christmas Eve. The Slate is unsealed, and although it is not yet fully operational, it was strengthening its power day by day.

Yukari looks at the Slate and squints his eyes.

“Well, freeing the Slate is a matter of time. If that dream goes well, will it turn into a real dream?''

"So is!"

"Yes."

"Kuwa!"

"In the first place, I could have had such a dream because I slept very close to the Slate."

While listening to the animated voice behind him, Iwafune watches the heat of the pot and the baking of the rice cake.

Boiled minced radish, flower-shaped carrots, small shiitake mushrooms, bite-sized whole chicken thighs in bonito soup, and a dash of light soy sauce and sake. He put the baked rice cake in a bowl, poured in the boiled ingredients and the soup broth, and garnished with the spinach and red and white kamaboko that had been boiled separately. Finally, he put a citron and a leaf.

"It's done."

He gave the entire ozoni bowl to his friends in the kotatsu.

With a happy voice they say together, "Itadakimasu."

"After all, I like Iwa-san's miso soup."

Yes, it is delicious. "

"Delicious!"

While listening to the voices of everyone who was happy with the ozoni, Iwafune somehow chided the Yukari words in his head.

(Maybe I had a dream like that because I slept very close to the Slate.)

The inside of his chest was soft, Iwafune looked at the Slate with his chopsticks raised.

The Slate casts a dim light into the dark underground space. Looking at the light, Iwafune somehow remembered the pale blond boy who appeared in his dream.

"…No way."

Shake his head slightly to get rid of strange dreams, Iwafune puts his mouth on ozoni.

While chewing the mochi he said, "It's delicious." and laughs.

[natalia-rosas98]

Ok I decided share this little thing that I occurred me after reading something that Joan Rivers shared about Lenny Bruce so I wait that everyone likes and if this little thing likes, well, maybe I could share more of my private works. This is a Lenny x Reader; I had already shared but I don't know what the hell I did and I deleted it but whatever, here it’s again so I wish that you like it:

The note

It’s 1958...

You are ready to go on stage, you look in the little mirror of your compact checking that everything is in order. You are distracted fixing your fringe when you hear the guys at the bar talking about you, they say that you are not funny and that the people just laugh of your act because you are "pretty" and that you probably make some little "favors" to get you concerts. You slam the mirror shut and go over to confront them.

-Excuse me, but, what were saying about me?-You stand in front of them with your forehead raised and your hands on your waist, they all stay still- so, the “men” can only say things at my back and not to my face, right?-you raise an eyebrow and cross your arms.

-We were saying that you are not funny and that the people laugh of your act just because you are “pretty"-said Paul standing up and approaching you-and that you probably make certain little favors to get concerts-he said with a smile.

-Oh sure!-you took a step forward-is that women can't be funny because they don't have a penis to talk about or a pathetic group of friends to make fun of or a wife who is supposed to be too much "rigid"-you started to move slowly at him-let me tell you something Paul, you are not funny when you talk about your little penis and you are not funny when you attack them and definitely you are not funny when you talk about your wife who believe me you should feel very lucky because there was someone who still knowing how pathetic and idiot you are decided to marry you, a man who is complete shit-you pushed him pointing-I think you are the most depressing and pathetic man that the world has ever seen.

Paul stumbled against the bench where he had been sitting before completely petrified, the others fell silent and looked away.

-Everyone thinks that making me less for being a woman makes them superior but no, it makes a complete idiots-you smoothed your skirt and got ready to leave-and by the way everybody are wrong, people don't laugh at my act just because I’m "pretty", people don't hire me because I make "favors"-you took a small step forward-people laugh at my act and hire me because I'm good and I know where to take my comedy without the need to talk more than I should, no matter what, I’m always capable of putting on a good show something that you certainly rarely can do-you turned around and headed for the stage. Nobody noticed that there was someone listening and watching the scene attentively, completely captivated for the woman who had been able to put everyone in their place.

Even though that situation made you tense, you were able to give good jokes and interact with some people in the audience without incident, something that a certain person admired. When you went to your place at the bar the bartender gave you a Cosmo.

-Excuse me but I didn't ask for this -you pushed the drink a bit but he put it back in front of you.

-Someone left it you along with this-he placed a little paper on the bar and walked away. The note smelled cologne mixed with tobacco, on it it had written:

“You are right, they are wrong. Lenny"

Your heart began to beat faster when you realized that who Lenny had left the note; Lenny Bruce not only had seen your act he had also seen your little confrontation. You put the hand that held the note on your chest and began to examine the whole place looking for him quickly in the hope that he was still there, for luck you found him sitting at a table near the entrance, he looked up from his drink and looked you.

You couldn't help the bright smile that formed on your face, you raised your drink and he did the same giving you the most perfect smile you have ever seen in your life. You decided to go with him.

-Hi, can I? -You said pointing to the seat next to him.

-You can-he said, taking his cigarette to his mouth-was I right with the drink?

-Yes, thank you-you gave him a little smile, suddenly you started to feel a bit shy.

-I thought you could use a drink after such a performance-you let out a small laugh knowing what he meant, which made him smile-you handled it really well, I must admit that even I felt intimidated-he joked.

-Well, let me tell you Mr. Bruce that you shouldn't feel that way -you turned a bit to face each other- you're not an idiot like them, at least I think so for the moment -you looked at him with your eyes half closed, him laugh and you swore that there was no laugh as perfect as his.

-I'm an idiot but not that type-he shrugged and you laughed-I know that women can be so funny as men-he stare at you-you're good better than any of them-he made a vague gesture towards the bar where all the idiots were-trust me you have a bright future in this profession abandoned by God, miss y/n.

Hearing this made you a bit sentimental since until now no one close to you had supported you so much, your parents pretend to agree with it but they were not really happy with this profession, your friends claimed to give you their full support but they weren't really well with it because they believed you would take and embarrass them on stage. And finally, your ex-boyfriend with whom you had started to talk about marriage left you 5 months ago saying that he had realized that he could not have a life where his wife was not 100% with him having a night life and making jokes about him with drunken strangers. The fact that someone as great and important as him told you that you had a future in this profession that despite being horrible you cannot help love, it was wonderful and touching.

-Thank you-was all you said taking his hand and smiling, he gave you a little squeeze and smiled back.

-Would you like another drink?-He offered.

-Yes, of course-he got up and went to the bar.

Honestly, if someone had told you a year ago that you would meet your idol and he would believe that you were good and that you had a future in this, you would have told that person who was crazy and that maybe could take medication. Spent the rest of the night talking, drinking and making jokes, you found it extremely wonderful how easy the both fall for a jokes of the other, you wished that this night would never end. Lenny in person was a magnificent and unique man, he was like an unicorn.

Lenny looked his watch which made you since panic, you had promised your parents that when you finished you would leave quickly to arrive early.

-Damn! I promised my parents that I would arrive early, they are going to kill me-you said taking your bag and getting up, he did the same.

-Come on, I'll take you to take a taxi-he put some of money on the table and took his coat, put his hand on the on your back and guided you to the exit, he opened the door and gestured at you for to come out first.

The street was alone probably was like 3 am, Lenny stood in front of you for find you a taxi. He was handsome, really handsome, him had a dark charm that had you fascinated and he was also funny and from what you could appreciate so far he was also a gentleman, would it be too much give him your number and see what happen later? No, it wouldn't be much. You took out your little notebook and wrote your number, a taxi approached and he stopped it, apparently the night had come to the end.

-Miss-he said, opening the door for you. You walked to him, before entering you stood in front of him.

-Thanks for the good time.

-I say the same-he smile.

-Take-you handed him the little paper with your number-would be good to see us again.

-Yes, it would be- you stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek, you got into the taxi and he closed the door.

-See you soon Lenny.

-See you soon y/n.

Lenny stood there watching your taxi drive away, "it will definitely be soon" he thought. He started walk away from the bar with a shiny smile in his face thinking in the beautiful girl that he just met.

I hope that you liked ☺️

[fyrapartnersearch]

♔ Let's try this again ♔

Good evening my literary friends,

I am hoping to find a suitable partner for specific cravings and ideas I have in mind. My introduction will be brief and a bit more to the point than usual. I am quite thorough and detail-oriented when it comes to being a writer, including some of my rules and preferences. However, since I believe it would be quite a hassle to go through every point, my ad will be a bit more compact. A brief recap: You can call me Imp; I am in my twenties and a student, striving to become a part-time freelancer as well. My main hobbies are photography, traveling, drawing and of course, the art of writing. Currently, I reside in Europe, so my timezone could differ from yours, unless you are also from a similar region. Be sure to read through my ad to see if we’re compatible. Too many times I’ve encountered cases where the inquirers skimmed through all of the info and upon messaging me, were surprised to learn that we weren’t a match from the beginning. So if you haven’t properly read my ad, I’ll know. I’d like to urge everyone to stick with it so there won't be any misunderstandings and not waste everyone’s time. ————————


Me, myself and I ♦ Nickname: Imp ♦ Experience: 12 years and counting

♦ Age: 28 years.

♦ Gender: Female. ♦ Style: 1:1 with the inclusion of doubling ♦ Rating: Mature ♦ Roleplay Platform: Email and Google Docs ♦ Chat Platform: Email, Google Hangouts or Discord ♦ Pet peeves: Slice of Life

♦ Timezone: GMT+2


After finishing the game of Resident Evil 8 Village, I was struck by yet another muse.


I am currently looking for either a pre-existing canon inspired roleplay, or, something completely original. Be sure you are above the age of eighteen, preferably 21 and upwards. I will not accept any inquires from minors - this is not negotiable.

What to expect ♢  Content: Mature. I am more interested in darker things like horror, occultism, the supernatural, you can maybe guess where I am going with this. My limits are few, safe for a couple of minor pet peeves that I have, I am pretty much open to some experimentation; such as violence, gore and sexual themes. When it comes to heavy scenes, I will not fade to black, unless it serves no purpose to the story. Not a huge fan of censorship. However, I will not force or push my partner into something they are not comfortable with. If you want to know the extent to how far I am willing to go, what sort of content, or how graphic my writing will be, you can ask me directly.

 ♢ Rating: I have little to no issues with delving into more sensitive topics. Since reality is often stranger than fiction, it is very interesting to explore all sides of human nature, including the less comfortable subjects such as psychology, crime, etc. But I also like to remind that this is a world of fiction and no one in their right mind would condone such things in real life. The world of adults is not easy to handle, but it sure is interesting to explore. So if you are a gentle soul and can’t take the heat of more serious moments within the roleplay, be it a character going through trying times, etc; this might not be ideal for you. ♢ Writing: My texts are considerably lengthy, detailed, and elaborate. Third-person is usually my preferred way of playing my character unless there’s a special case where an exception can be made. Word count usually fluctuates, though I have a standard form of 400-500+ words per reply. It also highly depends on the given situation. ♢ Romancing: I admit to being a hopeless romantic. There’s nothing more enjoyable than witnessing good and powerful chemistry between two characters. Preferably I go for the usual MxF pairing dynamic but I am also open to FxF and MxM, should it feel more fitting. While doubling, I can write the character/love interest to my partner’s desire, but I always aim to stay true to their personality and character. I hate nothing more than forcing characters into a relationship, especially if there’s no spark, so I won’t respond well to being pressured into letting characters act out of their personality. It’s just not realistic. As for smut, or what have you, I have no issues with adding a few spicy scenes, sometimes even drawing them out of our pleasure. When there is, however, a running theme where sexual themes are taking the focal point of the plot, it can become quite boring. It is never the center of any of my roleplays, so be warned. ♢ Plotting: I am fairly quick when it comes to building new characters, concepts, premises, storylines, backstories, etc. It allows me a certain latitude. Feel free to communicate your ideas and thoughts with me. I am happy to chat, even when it doesn’t involve the roleplay directly. Though this is a hobby, I am still extremely passionate about good storytelling and interesting character arcs. I hope to meet someone who is just as enthusiastic and willing to put in the same amount of effort. If it’s only me who’s pulling all the weight, I will lose interest and feel forced to end the correspondence. No gos ♦ Won’t do: Pedophilia, Necrophilia, Bestiality, Scat, Vore, Toilet Play or roleplaying with minors. I am sure you can also think of many other strange fetishes that have developed over the years spent on the internet. ♦ Won’t write: The idea of supernatural beings trying to fit into human society. The typical bully x victim storyline. The run-of-the-mill vampires vs werewolf plot. BDSM centred stories. Slice of life. Flawless or excessively flawed characters.

♦ No vulgarity: Let's keep it classy. There's nothing more I dislike than slipping into senseless vulgarity, be it language, unnecessary drawn out violent or tasteless smut scenes. I'd rather have things done beautifully, even if it a subject on the darker side.

What I expect ♢ Literacy: You should at least have a decent grasp of basic grammar and coherency in your spelling. ♢ Flexibility: Since we all have lives outside of the roleplay, we both need to be flexible. Sometimes our schedules may differ, and if life is currently intervening, we can take things a bit easier. Plus, I can’t always respond every second of every day, either. This should be considered a hobby and not a job. If a hiatus is on the rise, there is no problem with putting things on ice until things clear up. ♢ Experience: And by that, I don’t mean how many years you’ve roleplayed, rather the experience that comes with age and emotional maturity. Especially if you want to write stories with grit. ♢ Open to doubling: Quick explanation. Doubling is when we play two main characters each. The dynamic is as follows; I write your chosen love interest against your main character while you do the same for me. ♢ Long term: Only long-term partnerships. ♢ Sharing the spotlight: Don’t forget, this is all about you too! Let me know all your specific cravings, interests, or wants that you want to be included into the roleplay. Cravings ♦ Urban fantasy: Supernaturals, demons, spirits, vampires, you name it. I’d be more interested in something original and unique, especially when it comes to vampirism and demonic entities. ♦ Dark Sci-Fi: So this is a bit inspired by Resident Evil. A world where monsters become a vicious reality, generating fear among the people they come in contact with. But as it turns out, these monsters are not supernatural, but rather infected or mutated by a virus that cannot be explained. ♦ History, mythology, and folklore: An interesting take on the historical timeline, where legends and myths were once a reality. However, their existence was greatly misrepresented in the storybooks, sometimes even completely distorted. Our characters could be accidental time travelers who have been sent from the future to see it with their own eyes. Inspirations are mostly Slavic, European, and ancient folklore from all over the world. ♦ Crime with a dark twist: Mafias, organized crime, and corrupted politicians run this town. All of them have one thing in common. A particular drug that grants humans superhuman abilities; but at a cost. The drug will turn force the users to reject their humanity and embrace their monstrosity. Canon & Fandoms ♢ Castlevania: Rather the original games than the Netflix series. But I am also not opposed to tackling the Netflix universe. ♢ Devil May Cry: Every game is game. Except for the reboot. Never played that one. ♢ Invincible: Not so invincible. ♢ Resident Evil: Village is one of the best games I’ve ever played. Periodt. ♢ Harry Potter: Next gen anyone? ———————— If you made it this far, I am glad you managed to hold on, lol. If you found what I wrote, agreeable and have a similar interests to mine, feel free to message me on this email address. Email: impish.and.angelic@gmail.com Hope to see you there. I wish you all a lovely day my fellow readers! -Imp

[virellya]

The first days afterwards passed hazily and without detail. Somehow, Michonne discovered that the pervasive 'carry on' attitude had seeped into her, and she'd found a way to work through her shifts at the base and come back to the boarding house without thought. She had no memory of these moments though, her world roaring suddenly back to life a week later when she found herself standing in front of Milgrew who was yelling at her for taking her sweet time with a Spitfire engine overhaul. It was like a light being switched on; one moment she was swaddled in grey numbness, the next she was vibrantly being dressed down for work she couldn't remember doing.

"What's wrong with you, Hawthorne?" Milgrew barked, hands on hips and face getting red. He was probably perturbed that she wasn't putting up a fight like usual. "Have I given you too much rein here? Your work has always been average, but you've never been a dawdler before. This is His Majesty's Air Force, Technical Sergeant. There is no time for dawdlers. And you look green around the gills. Good lord, is this a female problem? THIS is why there shouldn't be ladies in the services – you're all constitutionally incapable of following orders-"

"My friend died," she said quietly in the middle of his diatribe, and perhaps its lack of heat caught his attention. "In Normandy."

"Ah, well…" Milgrew rolled back on his feet, his body language easing slightly. He cleared his throat and glanced around the hanger as the rest of the mechanics scuttled back to their duties. "I'm sure he was a brave lad. All of the lads at Normandy were. A tremendous thing that."

Suddenly she was hit by how insufficient the term 'friend' was. It was hollow and tenuous, like a broken eggshell, and Rick had been full and vibrant and too much to believe. He had been whole, not a sheet thrown over an association in order to make it easier to grasp. It wasn't a 'friend' she'd lost, it was a compact pocket of 'everything' that the universe had gifted to her, and now she had no idea what to call it. But 'friend' wasn't it and it made her hot with anger that she had to lose him before she really thought about this.

Then the tears came without warning. Huge wet gulping masses of them – the kind she hadn't cried since she was a child. It was shocking – to her as well – leaving her shaking and struggling for air between the swelling gusts of public humiliation. Milgrew stood there blinking, color drained from his angry features, and his mouth popped open uselessly. Like all men, he had absolutely no idea what to do with a crying woman.

"I say now… I say, Technical Sergeant… ummm…"

He took a step forward as if to hug her, and she twitched, staring at him warily as she snuffled and attempted to get herself back under control. Milgrew, too, seemed to view this impulse as distasteful and ended up slapping her on the back like she was a buddy from the pub.

"I apologize, Sergeant," Michonne gulped, feeling translucent and temporary, as if she were water trying to form the shape of a person. "This behavior is extremely unprofessional."

Milgrew patted her again with a grimace. "I think a leave might be appropriate at this time."

Michonne's gaze narrowed as she viciously wiped the tears away. "I can do the job, sir."

"Finish out your shift, Hawthorne," Milgrew dismissed her statement, as he so often did. "Then you're off for a fortnight. Corporal Wilson can take over your scheduled assignments."

"Sir-"

"Technical Sergeant, have you forgotten the chain of command? This is not a suggestion."

"Yes, sir," she growled wetly and saluted him. It was what he expected from her, but she dearly wanted to flip him off instead.

Milgrew strode away quickly, no doubt happy to be done with her instability. Michonne turned back to her dismantled Spitfire feeling drained of everything. It was the first time she'd really cried, but she didn't feel any better.

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