#YES i posted this already like half an hour ago but it had a major mistake bc i'm sleep deprived lmao so i am posting it again

[hoziersong]

rat…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

[tuttle-4077]

First(ish) Draft, Chapter 1 of untitled Post-War Story

I don't actually want to post this on FFN/AO3 because I don't know if it will actually go anywhere. My plan was to write the whole story and post it all at once but I did that with JOALD and it nearly killed me.

So, I'll post it here-- my nonserious place-- just to get it out in the open and if I have to rework/rewrite it, I will. This is like my sandbox, I guess. The story isn't set in stone and I can change it up whenever I want before I bring it all together for an actual story that I for reals post.

Make sense? Okay. Let's go.

May 8th, 1945

The cozy British pub was alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and general revelry. Yesterday, news of victory in Europe had spread like wildfire across the nation and, today, the whole country came together to celebrate. Kinch wouldn’t be surprised if half of said nation was in this one room alone!  Despite the cramped space, people packed into the pub, creating a bustling and lively atmosphere. As someone who usually preferred a quieter setting, he found himself surprisingly content amidst the rowdiness. After all, they had all earned this moment to let loose and enjoy themselves. It was a hard-won victory in which he liked to think Papa Bear had played a major role.

“Another round over here!” Newkirk called to no one in particular. He and the rest of their group were crowded around a table that was littered with empty bottles, mugs, and mostly untouched food.

“Less drinking, more eating!” Mavis, Newkirk’s sister, scolded. “All of you!”

“There’s enough time to eat later. Today, we celebrate!” Newkirk declared.

Mavis furrowed her brow. Ever since they had arrived in England two weeks ago, she had been harping on all of them to eat. She had been positively relentless. Kinch didn’t blame her; they were all in terrible shape. The last few months of the war had taken their toll on them. Drops from London had all but stopped, forcing them to rely on the Germans and LeBeau’s pantry– which was hardly sufficient to keep all the prisoners in tip-top shape. As a result, they had all lost weight. Although, honestly, the lack of food had been the least of their worries near the end.

Either way, they all were still supposed to be in hospital. Hogan must have either pulled some strings or bullied someone to let them out for tonight. LeBeau and Kinch, though underweight and exhausted, had made it back to England relatively unscathed. The colonel, on the other hand, was still fighting off the vestiges of pneumonia. As for Carter and Newkirk, Kinch thought that they should still be in bed for another week or two, national celebration be damned.

All in all, Mavis’ concerns were warranted.

“Newkirk, listen to your sister,” Hogan scolded.

“Yeah, eat something,” Carter added. 

Newkirk offered a salute with his bandaged and splinted hand. “Sirs, yes sirs.”

Carter rolled his eyes and Kinch hid a smile. Carter had recently gotten his lieutenant’s bar back. It afforded him a level of respect which had been forgotten in camp, and he didn’t seem to be enjoying it too much.

“Oh, Mavis, please, do not make him eat,” LeBeau pleaded as he reached over and took Mavis’ hand. “He is no longer used to your English gruel after all my delicious French cooking.”

Mavis smirked. “I have some letters to show you about that French cooking of yours, mate.”

“Oh, tell me about them now, ma chérie.” With her hand still in his, LeBeau stood and led Mavis onto the dance floor.

“Better be careful,” Hogan said to Newkirk, jerking his thumb towards them. “He’s liable to fall in love with her and then you’ll never get rid of him.”

Newkirk laughed. “If he can convince her to fall in love with him, then he deserves her. But I’m not worried; she’s far too clever for that.”

“Let’s hope so!” Hogan laughed.

Beside Kinch, Carter checked his watch. “It’s barely past 1900 hours and I’m already beat.”

“Beat, or drunk?” Newkirk asked.

Carter tilted his head to consider the question. “Both.”

In a familiar gesture, Kinch clapped him on the shoulder to shake him, but the action made Carter flinch and hiss. Kinch quickly removed his hand. “Sorry,” he quickly apologized.

Carter rolled his shoulder and reached under his coat with his good hand to readjust his injured arm. “S’okay.”

“I was going to say, you gotta at least make it to roll call, Lieutenant. One more hour. We can make it that long and then maybe I’ll join you.” 

Hogan tsked. “You’re both slowing down. We’d just be getting to business about now back in camp.”

“Come to think of it,” Carter said, “we’re an hour behind here. So it already is time for roll call.”

“This is no time to be sleepy, Andrew!” Newkirk exclaimed. His exuberance forced him into a cough. He cleared his throat and continued without tempering his enthusiasm. “We’re celebrating! Mavis! Mavis come here, luv!” Over on the dance floor, Mavis untangled herself from LeBeau’s grasp and made her way to the table. As for LeBeau, he smoothly swept a new partner into his arms. “Mavis, take Andrew onto the dance floor and liven him up a bit, would you?”

“Whew, I think I may need an extra dance card tonight,” Mavis laughed. She took Carter’s hand. “Come on then, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, you can call me Carter. Or Andrew, I guess. Andy?”

Mavis gave him an amused smile. “Come on, Andrew.” She pulled him from his seat and together they disappeared into the crowd.

The three men left at the table leaned back in their chairs. A server came over with more drinks and dropped them off. Kinch grabbed a mug of dark, warm beer and took a sip. “VE-day. I gotta admit, there were times I didn’t think this day would come.”

Hogan let out a long, tired sigh and scrubbed his face. “You and me both, Kinch.” He brought his mug up and Kinch clinked his own against it.

“Count me in for that,” Newkirk said, awkwardly bringing his own mug into the toast. “Bloody hell, even if I thought it would come, I didn’t think I’d see it. I thought for sure we were going to cark it at the end there.” Newkirk’s face darkened.

“Hey, hey.” Hogan reached across the table and grabbed Newkirk’s arm. “Not now.”

Newkirk nodded and gulped down his beer. Kinch slowly took a sip of his own.

With everything falling down around him and time running out, Major Hochstetter had still been hell-bent on finally capturing Papa Bear. And, of course, he was convinced that the man hiding behind the code-name was Hogan. In a desperate attempt to prove his theory, he had taken Newkirk and Carter out of camp for interrogation. Kinch didn’t know exactly what Hochstetter had done to them– neither would talk about it– but he had seen the aftermath. He felt a pit form in his stomach, knowing that the memories of their harrowing experience would likely haunt them for some time.

Kinch’s own thoughts darkened. That rat Hochstetter had managed to escape. Somehow, he had slipped through the cracks when the Allies had finally broken through to Hammelburg. It galled him. And he knew it made Hogan furious. Once they were discharged, or at least relieved from their active wartime obligations, Kinch had no doubt that Hogan would stop at nothing to track Hochstetter down and bring him to justice.

The music swelled and the song ended. A slow song took its place. Kinch glanced over to Mavis and Carter. Carter’s cheek was resting on Mavis’ head as they shuffled close together. Kinch quirked an eyebrow. 

“Say, I don’t think LeBeau’s the one you have to worry about, Newkirk,” Kinch said as he elbowed Newkirk and pointed.

“What?” Newkirk followed Kinch’s finger. Both eyebrows shot up. “Well, what do you know!”

“Wait.” Hogan held up a hand. A moment later, Mavis started towards them, practically dragging Carter along. She finally made it and dropped Carter into his chair. Carter’s head fell back and he let out a mighty snore.

“He fell asleep on me!” Mavis exclaimed. She looked like she wasn’t sure whether to be amused, insulted, or sympathetic.

The men burst out laughing. Carter snorted and woke up long enough to slump forward and rest his good arm on the table. He laid his head on it and went back to sleep.

“Seems a shame to waste this dance,” Hogan said. He stood and took Mavis into his arms. “My turn to put my name on that dance card of yours.” The two danced away from the table, Hogan holding Mavis close.

“He’s the one I’m worried about,” Newkirk said.

“Well, like you said, Mavis is a clever girl. She’s not going to fall for him.”

“She better not!”

Kinch chuckled and nursed his beer a little more. He swayed to the music in his chair.

Newkirk blew out a breath. “Cor, I must be slowing down too,” he said as he checked his watch. “I’m bloody knackered.”

“You can always go to bed,” Kinch told him. “I’m sure the doctors won’t complain if you headed back early.” 

“If I go to bed now, the Nazis win, mate.”

“The Nazis have already lost,” Kinch replied.

“In that case…” Newkirk rested his chin on his chest. But then he snapped awake. “Can’t do it. I’m not letting tonight go to waste, no matter how tired I am, or how happy it’ll make those doctors” He smacked his cheeks a few times with the palms of his bandaged hands, and then sucked in a breath. “I’m off to find a partner.” He stood and staggered to the bar. Kinch watched as he slid up to the closest pretty girl and soon they were dancing together.

Kinch sipped his beer and looked over at Carter, who was still snoring away. Kinch sighed and patted him on the back, gentle enough to not wake him or aggravate his still-raw injuries. Then he let his mind wander.

Tonight they could enjoy themselves. But, tomorrow, it was back to the hospital for more recuperation. And after that…

He was surprised they had been allowed to rest for as long as they had. No doubt Intelligence was champing at the bit, eager to interrogate them on every aspect of the operation. A few intelligence officers had been posted at the hospital but, as of yet, they hadn’t questioned any of them beyond how they were recovering. But their hospital wards were heavily guarded and, even now, there were guards around the pub, keeping an eye on them. Kinch supposed they were too valuable to let out of sight. It was only a matter of time until they were hauled off to London.

But there was more to his thoughts than the upcoming interrogations. Those had to end– eventually. The merriment around him reminded him that the war was over. And one day he’d be sent home. 

And then what?

He had been so consumed with survival— of just making it from one day to the next— that he hadn’t given much thought to what came after. Oh, sure, they all had their little dreams; it was what kept them sane. But now, with the future right on the horizon, those dreams seemed nothing more than illusions. Reality was quickly overtaking those dreams, and he wasn’t sure the two could co-exist.

“Thanks for the dance.” 

Kinch hadn’t realized that the colonel and Mavis were back at the table. Hogan gave Mavis a kiss on her cheek. Then he turned his attention to Kinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hogan said. 

Kinch tilted his head. “Leaving so soon?”

Hogan gave him a cryptic smile. “I’ve got someone else I need to celebrate with.”

Kinch assumed Hogan had a girl waiting for him somewhere. He wondered if their security escorts would allow any of them to go off alone with female company, but if anyone could sneak past the guards, Hogan could.

“Be safe.”

Hogan nodded. “Bye honey,” he said to Mavis. 

Mavis rolled her eyes. “Good-bye, dear,” she replied. Hogan smirked and left. Mavis took her seat at the table. “Have you eaten anything?” she asked.

Kinch laughed. “Yes.” He held up a half-eaten sandwich. Mavis eyed it skeptically.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve taken another bite since I left.” 

To satisfy her, Kinch took a big bite. He quickly swallowed it down and then took another. Mavis nodded. “Good. Now–” Mavis stood– “I believe it’s your turn for a dance.”

Kinch nearly choked. “Mine?”

“Of course.”

Kinch hesitated, suddenly very aware of his heartbeat. He knew the English weren’t as uptight about race, but dancing with a white woman still made him nervous. A buddy of his had wooed an English girl back when Kinch had first arrived in England at the start of the war. It had led to more than one confrontation with their white counterparts. And while he didn’t think he would run into any problems with the men in the pub— most of whom had been his comrades at Stalag 13— he couldn’t shake the possibility of judgement and reprisals.

Mavis either didn’t notice his hesitation, or ignored it. She grabbed his hand and led him to the floor. Turning to him, she went to put her hand on his shoulder but he stepped back. “You know how to dance, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled.

“Well then?”

Well then…

Kinch put his arm around her waist and held her other hand. He felt her hand move to his back and he closed his eyes and imagined there was no one else there— no one else to see this social crime that, in other places, could land him in jail, or worse.

“You know, I should have known it was you,” Mavis said.

Kinch opened his eyes and looked down at her. “What?”

“I should have known it was you on the other side of the radio,” Mavis said. “Once I knew what I knew, I should have known.”

Kinch tilted his head and grinned. “Was that supposed to make sense, or are you talking in code?”

Mavis laughed. “It’s just Peter wrote about all of you all the time. He always said you were the one that kept everyone sane. That you were always so level-headed. And so I should have guessed I was speaking to you on the radio. You always seemed to make even the most ridiculous requests seem reasonable! Not like him. I always thought he was having a laugh. But I trusted you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Kinch said. “Don’t tell the other girls, but you were always my favourite.”

“I was?”

Kinch shrugged. “There was just something about you.” 

“Maybe it’s because there was already a connection between us,” Mavis speculated. “If you can be friends with Peter, I suppose that means you could easily make friends with me.”

“Don’t think it was easy making friends with him,” Kinch laughed. “It was much easier to make friends with you, even if we did have to do it through code!” While communicating as Papa Bear and Goldilocks, they generally kept to their jobs, but every once in a while, they would sneak in some harmless small talk. Nothing that would compromise their identities, but enough to become friendly.

“I’m surprised he made any friends at all!” Mavis exclaimed. “But I’m glad he had you. All of you.”

“We were lucky to have him,” Kinch replied. 

Mavis hummed and they continued dancing in comfortable silence. 

“I guess it’s a good thing we didn’t know who you were,” Kinch said after a few moments. “We wouldn’t be able to keep Newkirk, er, Peter, from the radio if we did. But after we did find out… after… well, after that happened, we definitely couldn’t tell him.” 

Kinch still felt sick thinking about that moment on the radio when, after warning them of a trap, Mama Bear’s voice was cut off by an angry German. An angry German who had yelled her name. Wrong choice, Miss Newkirk. And then there were gunshots. And then… static. Kinch had panicked, but when he realized what that name might have meant, he had really panicked. He and Hogan had vowed to keep it between themselves because if Kinch could panic over it, Newkirk would have gone absolutely insane.

Mavis cast her eyes down. “I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I’m so terribly sorry. I was selfish and cowardly and–”

“Hey.” Kinch stopped dancing and she looked up at him, tears in the corner of her eyes. “We’ve all been scared, and we’ve all made mistakes.”

Mavis nodded. “I know. I just…”

“It all turned out,” Kinch said and, despite himself, held her closer as he started dancing again. “Just look around. It all turned out.”

Maybe it was just his imagination but it felt like, as she relaxed, she snuggled into him. “Yes. Yes it did.”

[the-owl-house-takes]

Okay I’m gonna go on a big long rant about why Huntlow pisses me off so much. Honestly, Mod Willow, you don’t even have to post this if you don’t want to cuz I don’t wanna start more discourse, I just need to vent. Please note this is gonna be pretty messy just cuz I have a lot to say.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I DO NOT SEE THE APPEAL OF THIS SHIP!! They have no chemistry on screen. It feels like watching two people be nice to each other out of politeness rather than out of actually enjoying the others company. It’s especially noticeably because Willow is naturally super affectionate/friendly, but all her interactions with Hunter feel super forced.

And don’t even get me started on the shippers. Too many of the shippers act like just cuz it’s canon, it means you HAVE to like it. When are people gonna learn that just because something is canon, doesn’t mean it’s good or well written?? The fan content might honestly be the worst part of it. 70% of Huntlow shippers, from what I’ve seen, don’t care about Willow at all. They just turn her into Hunter’s therapist or boil her down to “buff girlfriend” and it’s infuriating. It’s like they black out whenever Hunter isn’t on screen. And they even get him wrong too. So much Huntlow stuff turns Hunter is a “poor twaumatized wittle baby 🥺” and infantalize him, even though he is one of the strongest main characters there!! Yes, he is traumatized. But trauma doesn’t turn you into a helpless infant. There’s so much you could do to explore that in an interesting way, but I guess that’s too much work so let’s just infantilize him!!!!!

And the writing for it is a mess. “Of course it’s gonna be rushed/messy, the shortened season-“ THAT MAKES IT WORSE!!! They knew they had extremely limited time to finish the season, and they still wasted time on this stupid ship. The whole plot comes to a screeching halt just so they can focus on Hunter and Willow standing next to each other. For the Future is the worst example of this. That scene where Willow has her breakdown is awful and the writers should be embarrassed of it. Hunter is the worst person in the main cast to comfort her there. Literally anyone else would’ve been better. It could’ve been Amity, to finally give closure to their relationship and show that they’ve fully moved on from Amity’s past behavior (especially since Amity was one of the main people to make Willow feel like she was half-a-witch), or Gus, who also has magic-related breakdowns and was taught a coping mechanism for the BY WILLOW!! Or Luz, to show that, yes, they are indeed still friends, because I honestly forgot they were supposed to be best friends by then. They’ve had so few direct interactions for the past season and a half, it felt like they were strangers. But nooooo, it HAD to be Hunter. They literally had to keep Gus back with giant vines to keep it a huntlow moment (which is just another example of how Gus has been screwed by this series). Also, Hunter experienced one of the most horrific things to ever happen to him and lost his first friend mere hours ago, why are we already trying to push him into a relationship?? I’m not saying that traumatized people can’t be in relationships, that’s stupid. But I am saying that he needs some time to actually process what’s happened before immediately getting out into romantic scenes again. It just feels really gross.

The ship also just completely uprooted any and all of Willow’s development. Anytime she has a major moment in the series now HAS to be related to Hunter. It turned her from a character with a lot of cool potential development that seemed to actually be getting explored in season 2, into just Hunter’s Girlfriend. And I know this is a problem with Willow specifically because Hunter gets plenty of outstanding moments outside of this ship after it begins to be established. It feels like they didn’t know what else to do with her, so they just attached her to the closest male character.

And it’s just so amanormative/heteronormative. Note, this is not me calling it a straight ship, because it’s not. I know Willow is pan and Hunter is bi. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be heteronormative. Seriously, any and all moments of them even standing next to each other were taken by the fandom as “proof” it was gonna be canon. As I said before, Willow is super affectionate naturally. She loves her friends and isn’t afraid to show it. But when she does basic friend things with Hunter? They’re in love!! It’s obvious!! /sarc

Willow saves hunter from a deadly 200ft drop? True love. Willow doesn’t want to pummel hunter (or who she thinks is Hunter) to death with a giant vine? I hear wedding bells! Willow is distraught at the fact that her friend just tried to drown himself in a lake and is sad that he’s slowly dying? Could they be anymore obvious with how it’s canon?! Ignore the fact that literally everyone else there is also sad, it’s a huntlow moment!! And that hand holding scene in FTF…… literally so cringe inducing. Willow was holding hands with and celebrating with Amity five seconds ago, but now that she’s slightly touching Hunter’s hand? Canon! Undeniably canon! I can’t believe that made the cut into the final episode. It felt like watching a shitty fanfic written by a ten year old. They wasted precious time that could’ve been used to further the plot of the actual show.

I hate that you can’t go three feet into the owl house tag without seeing it, even if you block ten million tags relating to it. I’ve got ten different huntlow tags blocked and I still see it whenever I go into the tags. It’s infuriating. Just because it’s canon, doesn’t mean you don’t have to tag it anymore.

And back to the shippers, why do some of them just start throwing a tantrum every time they find out you don’t ship it? I’ve criticized the ship a little bit on my blog. Every time I do, I make sure to tag it so huntlow shippers specifically can avoid my posts, and encourage them to block me so they never have to see me ever again. And even with all that, anytime I criticize the ship even a little bit, I get an onslaught of huntlow shippers crying in my inbox/notes about how I’m missing the point, or just don’t get it, or how I should just block the tag. I do block the tag!! That is the first thing I did when I saw the ship was getting more popular!! Why don’t they take their own advice and block me? And they’re so condescending about it too. You don’t see me going onto anti-lumity or anti-raeda blogs and telling them how it’s their fault I disagree with them. Honestly, grow up.

Okay that’s all. Again, you don’t have to post this if you don’t wanna mod Willow. I just needed to rant.

-

[dez-wade]

Two green team members aren’t dropping out though? It’s okay to be upset that ccs are annoyed but to be like see they’re dropping out and it’s red team and their fans fault! Is ridiculous yes there has been hateful coments made and that’s fucking awful and people need to get a life but bagi hasn’t said anywhere that she’s dropping out she’s literally taking the day off and will probably see how she feels tomorrow. Etoiles on the other hand mentioned not logging on but also then tweeted at tubbo about their fight and how he’d get him back and in his main tweet said he wants to try and find ways to still enjoy the event if he can. Doing this whole “they dropped out and it’s your fault!” Thing to red team fans when majority are normal and just watching the event like everyone is counter productive and childish and all of the posts and tweets shitting all over red team and the ccs are no better than the people they were criticising less than 24 hours ago, it’s ridiculous

The fact that you guys always make the problem be about the poor Red Team fans already tells me everything I need to know.

Etoiles is only not dropping out because the team had to reunite themselves and pep talking him on not giving up. Half hour ago Forever sent a message trying to cheer up Etoiles.

This is coming from a CC's mouth that she's sad how her TEAMMATES are sad over the hate they're getting. They're managing to overcome, barely, but they're trying to ignore the hate instead of the situation getting better. Green didn't get a single fucking win yet, why are they getting hate when they were nothing but killed?

Liking or not, it's the red team fans. Maybe a lot of them are just normal people enjoying the event like a decent human being, but a very loud part it's fucking not. Bagi herself talked about on stream how she was receiving hate from them.

It's truly amazing how a bunch of CCs are getting hate but you're more worried about defending the Red Team's fan honor.

People complaining about the Red team aren't at the same level at ALL when you have 70% of the viewership, all the support, and all the fanarts. Have you seen a single Red CC complain about hate? Yeah, guess not.

[lightpost-pollution]

Toe to Toe: A Succession Fic Chapter 1- We're F*cked

FANDOM: Succession CHAP. WORD COUNT: ~1.19K PAIRING: Stewy Hosseini x Estranged!Roy OFC (this is not an x reader fic) CHAP. RATING: Mature TRIGGERS: Swearing, mentions of drug use, Logan Roy being Logan Roy, private equity as an entity To preface this fic, I know pretty much nothing about business. I get the basics, but beyond that, I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m bullshitting more than half of the business issue and legal sides of this fic. Heavily researching business shit will make me want to cry, so I’m not going to do it! Yes, this is a Logan hate fic. Stewy hates Logan and the OC hates Logan. If you’re into someone truly going toe to toe with the old bastard, this is the fic for you. I’m also going to include lots about luxury fashion because fashion imagery is just so much fun. I’ll also make some posts explaining the fashion choices for each chapter and how they connect. I don't have a beta reader or anything so...please be kind. This first chapter is setting up 'the major business issue' and after that we dive into this fucked up family a little more. Enjoy!

“Dude we are so fucked. We are more fucked than we have ever fucking been.” Kendall’s voice frantically comes over the phone. 

Stewy leaned over to look at the clock—4:45 am.

He groaned, “Bro, you know I love you, but that love has limits. Can this freak-out wait until I get to the office because I need my beauty sleep” 

Stewy sighed, groggily wiping his face. The sun wasn’t even up yet and he was already dealing with a situation. 

Kendall huffed out a rueful laugh, “Dude everyone is heading to the office like as soon as possible. We are in deep shit.”

That snapped Stewy out of his sleepy stupor.

What the fuck happened now?

“Bro you have got to be shitting me right now? I literally just bailed your ass out on all that debt, what the hell?” Stewy scrambled out of bed with the phone pressed against his ear a little harder than necessary. 

“I know dude, I know. There was more debt we didn’t know about until literally a few hours ago. It’s not good.” Stewy could hear Kendall rubbing his face the way he did when he was close to losing it completely. This really was bad.

“Okay Ken, I am going to take the world’s fastest shower and get dressed. I’ll be over in 30.” 

“I’ll save you a seat man” Kendall sighs before he hangs up.

Sometimes I really wish you wouldn’t. 

-

Stewy Hosseini was having a terrible, awful, no good, really bad morning. After dragging himself out of his apartment at the asscrack of dawn with no skincare, no coffee, and hardly any sleep, Stewy quickly walked up the steps to Waystar. There was so much wrong with everything happening. He was seriously considering doing a line off the baby changing table in his assistant’s bathroom just to keep himself marginally sane.

How the actual hell is there “unknown” debt? How does that even happen??

Stewy went through the various options during the coldest shower of his life and the only ones that made any sense all had to do with Logan Roy being a fucking idiot or hiring a fucking idiot.

God, he hated that man. 

Ever since he was a kid, Stewy had to watch Logan’s tirades, fucked up games, and straight-up abuse against his best friend and the sibs. He had never done anything to Stewy, in fact, it seemed like he loved having an audience to further humiliate them. Eventually, he stopped hanging out at the house because he could tell he was just making it worse. Little Stewy didn’t want to make it worse. He just wanted Kendall to be okay.

Stewy aggressively pressed the button for the elevator to take him up to what felt like his impending doom.

Adult Stewy didn’t know what he wanted with this family anymore. He knew he wanted Kendall to get the fuck out and just live his life, but that probably wasn’t going to happen. If anything, he just kept diving deeper, becoming more and more like his father. He saw the good parts of Kendall slowly being twisted into something wrong. 

Stewy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before looking down at his watch.  5:15, right on schedule. Straightening up before he exited the elevator, he checked himself in the mirror. Even without his usual morning routine, he still looked just as immaculate as usual. His hair was coiffed, his skin glowing, and his beard trimmed to perfection. The Tom Ford blazer and black turtleneck combo were doing wonders at making him look mildly threatening. 

Good, because right now I feel like ripping someone’s head off. Preferably Logan’s. 

Stepping out of the elevator with an easy smile and casual gait, he made his way through the upper floor to Logan’s office. The sun was just starting to make its way up on the horizon, giving the office a little glow despite the stale air. 

Everyone was already collected and spread around the room in various states of bed hair with grave expressions. 

“So good of you to finally join us, Steward,” Logan said from his desk. Somehow he still managed to cast an imposing shadow despite his more decrepit, post-stroke state. 

My name is not fucking Steward. 

Stewy gives him an easy shark's grin. All teeth. No warmth. “Well, you know sir, I just had to center myself before saving your company again.” Batting his lashes for full sarcastic effect (of course).

Logan just scoffs and waves at him to sit down. 

Kendall really does save him a seat on one of his dad’s uncomfortable black leather couches. Why couldn’t the richest man in the universe not invest in something less shit?

“Okay, you all know why we’re here. We’re in the shitstorm of a century and it’s brainstorming time” Kendall announces from his seat on the shitty couch. Stewy turns his head to look at Kendall for a moment before turning back to face the rest of the room.

“Okay, but what does this debt actually mean? Who owns us? What is it insured against? Because it’s hard to brainstorm when you don’t even know the scope and scale” Stewy stretched his arm around the back of the couch and propped his leg up. A good mix between relaxed and in control. Exactly what he needed to present to make any kind of difference in a room full of Roy’s. 

Logan, Roman, Kendall. All three of them together were an interesting combination of insane dramatics. Both boys were constantly vying for their daddy’s love while Logan enjoyed the power but couldn’t be fucked to actually care about them beyond that. Stewy was half convinced the old bastard was going to die in the chair, half convinced he would find a way to live forever. Only time would tell.

The rest of the room shifted uncomfortably at Stewy’s question while glancing at Logan. 

Shower hypothesis correct?

Frank finally had the balls to speak up. “So…um. Back before we acquired our cruise lines, we didn’t actually have enough money built up to acquire them, so we took out a loan. That loan is currently at 4 billion secured against all of our stock.”

Shower hypothesis correct. Fuck.

Stewy blinked a few times, “What the fuck do you mean all our stock? Last time I checked, I just got here.” The shape of this was looking worse and worse as the conversation continued.

Karl piped in, “So, when we took out the loan, instead of putting up just Logan’s stock as collateral, we put the entire company’s stock up. Everyone who owns any stock in Waystar would have a chunk taken off their plate. But to keep the SEC and all the minor stockholders happy, we kept it to the top 1% of holders” 

Stewy stared in disbelief, “So everyone in this room and everyone on the board. Essentially.” 

Karl nodded. 

“Great!” Stewy said cheerfully, “What’s the name of the company that’s getting ready to fuck us?”

It was silent for a beat. Way too silent. 

Logan’s voice broke through. 

“BlackRock”

Oooooh. Oh, we’re fucked.

YUP, this is pure self-indulgent anti-BlackRock propaganda in the form of a fanfic. You'll see what happens in the following chapters, but if you hate that company, you're going to like this fic. Stewy is so me actually. I too hate Logan and don't want to get up early.

[minecraftrelatedrandomness]

burn the night away: writer's annotations

The benefits of writing from p!Martyn's POV is that I have more flexibility to be anachronistic — I default Pirates to be set in the first half of the 19th century, but p!Martyn, being from our real-world time period, means that I can let the guys play custom Monopoly if I want to. As for remaking and customizing boards from scratch, I tried that when I was a kid using mostly paper, so it's not impossible.

I am also unfortunately unable to write from a p!Saus POV for any extended period of time (especially since my giftee seems to be a fan) — I've taken unprecedented amounts of psychic damage (re)watching his VODs, and I don't think there's any way I can replicate that in my own writing, at least in my current state of mind. I did try to make sure he had a major presence in the fic, though.

Speaking of, this is my first time posting from Martyn POV and my first time writing Kyle and Scar in general — I've written a fic draft on p!Martyn and p!Shelby a couple of months ago, but never finished and posted it.

Most things I've written about the characters and their experiences have some sort of canon or canon-adjacent basis — and yes, I did so much research for this. A few are admittedly headcanons due to a lack of information, and p!Scar's characterization is in part inspired by Hermitcraft Season 8 and the Life series, since both series are referenced in his POV. I'm leaving it ambiguous as to whether he is the same character throughout those series, though.

I genuinely have a spreadsheet listing 39 of the 40 "Never Have I Ever" prompts I'm using for this fic, along with who answered what and a tally counting who actually did win. Mind you, the statistics are slightly skewed by the fact that several of these people are lying their asses off a good chunk of the time.

Among them, I ended up having to change one of the prompts and rewrite a small section less than 12 hours before my deadline because I found out that every single character here (other than Jellie, for obvious reasons) has at least somewhat played a musical instrument in the series! Music is a foundational basis for p!Kyle's lore, p!Saus has his "(snake)skin flute" heirloom, Scar did so briefly during his 2nd stream, and everyone else played something on Oct 13th (SMP Day 76), mostly while in Cultist captivity.

The details about p!Scott's accessories are actually inspired by my own personal experiences. I have a bird necklace in real life (admittedly just a generic bird in flight) and thought I'd let my guy have an equivalent to that, as a treat. As for the badge, when I was in secondary school, I had a house badge that I used for all my six years there, and by the time I graduated, maybe a third of the coloration has been chipped off.

Like fic!Martyn, I considered whether I should have him lie about his brief engagement to r1!Water. If I had the chance, I would have had him give r1!Water's kingdom to be Isopteria — from Isoptera, the infraorder name for termites, but I don't think c!Martyn is knowledgeable enough in entomology or cares enough about it to make that reference (it's the biology student brain at work here, so forgive me).

The dumpling ban is actually a reference to a one-off line from the Oct 13th (SMP Day 76) VOD. It was a Heron base ban in an earlier draft, but I changed it after rewatching the VOD to make it a bit more canon-compliant. (As if the timeline isn't already non-compliant as it is, but it is my solemn archivist duty to stay true, alas.)

The full process of writing this fic has been harder than I expected, to say the least. I've had this idea for a couple of months before the event, but decided to put it aside. I took a couple of weeks off from working on it at all after the event started because of finals and then oopsie daisy, my family lost Wi-Fi for four days, so I couldn't even write and could barely VOD-watch during that time, since I could only access the Internet using my phone's data plan! Then I had to take another couple of days off to study for and take my TOEFL exam, and then I caught a stomach bug that I'm still recovering from as I post this (+ burnout on my final day)! In other words, the AO3 author's curse was out to get me, even after I got an extension. And that's discounting how I still don't quite know how to write shipfics on account of being inordinately aro/ace (that VS my perfectionism, fight!), as well as my computer buffering from the sheer number of tabs I have open!

Also, this fic was originally supposed to be like 1K or 2K words long… but it just kept getting longer and longer and now it's ended at nearly 5K.

I don't even know how I pulled all this off, especially since I haven't even watched all the VODs I wanted to watch for research, but here I am.