#and I goddamn communicate that!!! but they act like I’m asking for nobody to ever speak to me again

[feralsneeze]

Not sneeze just mental health rambling in the tags

[iwadori]

Why you break up with the haikyu boys part 2 (Osamu, Iwaizumi, Daichi, Ushijima.)

Part 1 (Atsumu, Oikawa, Kageyama, Kenma, Akaashi, Sugawara)

Genre: angst

masterlist

Osamu: “For fuck sake Y/N, don’t deny it I know that you...”

You and Osamu were basically arranged to be together, you were best friends from when you were little and your parents thought you were a match made in heaven.

Did you love Osamu? Of course, you pretty much worshipped the ground he walked on.

But there was always a strange look he gave you whenever he mentioned his brother. You never really focused on it, but that was something you took note of.

When you came back home, after a long day of work. You see Osamu sitting in the kitchen alone, with some paper in front of him and a drink in his hand.

“‘Samu Babe!” You exclaim sauntering over to him “How are yo-“

“Don’t.” He said simply, taking a sipping some of his drink (to which you could only assume was some form of hard liquor.)

“Why ‘Samu, what’s wro-“

“You bought tickets to his game.”

“Who’s game?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Y/N, you bought tickets to my idiot of a brothers game in an attempt to slut around under my nose..”

“Samu, that’s not what it was I-“

“I don’t want to hear it Y/N!” He yelled slamming his drink down making you flinch.

“Gosh Samu whats wrong with you. I know that I had a teeny crush on Atsumu when we were kids but it was just a childhood crush. An innocent childhood crush.”

“For fuck sake Y/N, don’t deny it I know yo-“

“You know what? That I’ve spent majority of my life, trying to ease your own insecurities and jealousy of your own goddamn brother. How childish can you be Osamu ?”

Osamu eyes opened a bit in realisation, and his lips slightly parted. “But Y/N, you-“

“I what? Brought us tickets to your TWIN brothers final volleyball game, because I wanted him to see the support from his family and friends.”

“I’m sorry Y/N I really a-“

“Don’t.” you say picking up the tickets and turning around “I just thought maybe, just maybe for at least a day you could put your weird feelings towards your brother aside... but I guess you can’t.”

You left the apartment, and got your stuff another day (one where you knew Osamu was at work.)

No you did not end up dating Atsumu, you were most certainly friends and only friends. You did end up going to the game on your own, to cheer on Atsumu who most definitely appreciated it.

You thought you saw a certain Miya twins sitting in the stands at of the game, hiding his face with a baseball cap. Which made you smile a bit...

Well at least he ended up coming to the game.

Iwaizumi: “I just don’t want you Y/N, I never did”

In your second year of Seijoh Highschool, you were approached by a rough looking boy who had a ‘resting bitch face,’ and looked like they were coming to pick a fight with you.

But no, it was just “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

He was very popular throughout your school, as he was vice captain of the schools volleyball team and he was Oikawa Toorus best friend.

So when he approached you that Friday afternoon at your locker, you definitely didn’t know why.

“Y/N..” he said nervously scratching the back of his neck “umm this is for you..”

In his hands was a bar of chocolate and a scrunched up note that read

AN: DID I WRITE THAT NOTE MYSELF, yes yes I did anyways...

You were very surprised at this sudden confession as you and Iwaizumi weren’t in the same social circles and you were definitely not the type of girl that would be on his ‘radar.’

You had a quite unsettling feeling, which made you subconsciously squint your eyes at him. But they soon soften as you saw the nervousness that Iwaizumi was showcasing to you as you were contemplating on you answer.

You got out a pen, shaking the unsettling feeling you had out of your head. And ticked the box “Yes” giving it back to Iwaizumi.

He smiled widely and rushed towards you in an attempts in giving you a hug which went awkwardly wrong leaving you both laughing.

Dating Hajime, wasn’t bad nor good... it’s just what you wouldn’t expect it to be.

There wasn’t much of a change to what your usual school routine was which consisted of: going to lessons and spending break and lunch on your own reading a book.

And technically you were still doing that, but you were now just always with Hajime. Wether it was at lunch or at practice (which he always insisted you go to, also hinting that he would like for you to bring him bentos to practice.) which you did end up doing.

One day, whilst doing your daily “bento delivery,” to your boyfriend, you overhear him talking to his friends; Matsukawa and Hanamaki.

“God I can’t stand her, always running behind me like a lost puppy giving me bentos that I didn’t even fucking as for” he complained, making you gasp.

“Really?” Exclaimed Hanamaki “I know you said she confessed to you one time, but I didn’t know it was that bad?”

“Yeah she’s a stalking bitch, it’s getting annoying.”

“Gosh it’s seems someones getting a taste of the ‘Oikawa Experience’” Matsun said making them all laugh.

You entered the room, furious. “What the fuck Hajime?”

“Woah woah woah, it’s seems your stalkers about iwa, we’ll leave you too it” said Hanamaki, with Matsun following behind him as they leave.

“What do they mean I’m a stalker?”

“Well aren’t you?” He responded with a smirk

“Gosh y/n you’ve been following me about for a while now, dont you think it’s time to stop”

“Bu-But you confessed, with your note and w-“

“Are you sure about that Y/N, cause I don’t really recall ...?”

“Hajime don’t lie, we were dating.. we ARE DATING.”

“Okay Y/N let me fill you in on a little secret,” he said leaning down next to your ear “I don’t want you Y/N, I never did.”

“ but why m-“

“Why you? Because nobody knows Y/N L/N and nobody cares, I can tarnish your name and nobody will give a shit.. and that’s why your an easy target” he said still smiling “ I just wanted to rub it into Shittykawas face that I had my own little “fan club”

You were stunned, frozen in shock as Iwaizumi walks past you to leave the gym, making sure to grab the bento you made him.

“Thanks again for the help, I’m definitely going to miss these bentos!”

You should have listened to your gut feeling from before.

Daichi: “you’re just not marriage material”

Daichi was “the perfect guy,” he was nice to strangers and was helpful to the community and just an all round great guy.

So it was a massive question as to why he went for you, since you were definitely not the girl for Daichi.

“I don’t care what anyone says, your the perfect girl for me” was what he always said.

Even though those statements went out the window whenever his mother got involved.

Daichi’s mum was a strict traditional woman, who believed in family values that went back thousands of years ago.

And she most certainly didn’t like you.

She wanted you to be Daichi’s doting wife, who cooked and cleaned for him. Whilst he works and was the breadwinner of the house.

Although you found no problem with the women that did do this, but this was not for you.

When it comes to meet ups with you, Daichi and his mother. He never told her to stop when it came to the rude comments she made about you, or the times she suggested Daichi go for a more “prim and proper” girl named “Misaki Ayuzawa.”

After the meetings, when his mother was gone, he always tried to reassure that she was wrong and her words didn’t matter.

But you knew they did, that daichi was actually considering some of the things she said about you wether they were true or not.

The tension in your household was strong, since you barely talked to each other anymore. But you had hope for better things...

Until one day, you get a message from Daichi’s mother saying. “It seems Daichi made the right choice, as we all know ‘Mother Knows best.’” With a video attached of Daichi proposing to the one and only “Mikasa Ayuzawa” surrounded by all their high class business friends.

When Daichi got home he yelled, “Y/N, where are you I was at this business party at this fancy restaurant and I got some nice things for you to try!”

“Business party?” You say rolling your eyes “Or Engagement party.”

The shocked look on his face made you smile, as you both knew now that he was caught.

“Fuck you daichi! Why would you do this without even tell me !” You yelled, tearing up a bit.

“Y/N, it wasn’t meant to go down like that it was just I was talking to my mu-“

“Fuck your mum! And you!”

“I’m sorry Y/N you’re just not marriage material an-“

“I don’t care what you’ve got to say, you’ve done it and it’s over with”you said leaving.

“I’ll come back to get my stuff later,” you say “oh and congratulations on the engagement Sawamura-San”

After you said that, Daichi’s heart broke.

He did end up marrying her, and he regretted every day of it. Since she was great and all, but she just wasn’t you...

But he knows now you’re long gone, definitely not going to forgive him for marrying another girl whilst being with him.

Ushijima : stop being so emotional

You and Ushijima were very much opposite In every aspect, and at first it wasn’t really a problem.

Especially since you always excused it as “opposite attracts.”

But recently all you and Ushijima do is argue, left and right always arguing.

You complained about Ushijimas lack of emotion when it came to you, you don’t think he cared about you or about anything.

Whenever you brought up something that was wrong he would reply with “Y/N this is something you need to be acting all upset about.”

And that would definitely upset you even more, you just wanted him to notice you or shout “Y/N I care about you and I love you.”

But Of course he didn’t.

One night he came back late (again) after promising to be home early to have a meal together.

“What’s taken you so long Ushi?” You asked

“I was at practice. I told you this.” He said simply, remaining as stoic as ever.

“But you said- you promised that we can have dinner together.” You said

“ oh well I’m sorry. We can have dinner now if you like.”

“I’m not hungry anymore” you mumbled past him, going to your bedroom.

“Y/N, what’s your problem” he said following after you.

“It’s nothing...”you said tears filling your eyes.

“Okay I’m going to go eat now.” He said leaving you alone in the room going to the kitchen, making you sigh.

After you calm yourself and collect your faults, you go into the kitchen where Ushijima is at the table eating.

“Ushijima, we need to talk.” You said taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“We should break up.”

“Okay.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You say tearing up again.

“Yes, I’ve been thinking that for a while now.” He said bluntly “since Y/N, you’re just too emotional.”

“Oh I see.” You say now full on crying.

Ushijima looks up to see you all teared-eye, and he is kind of suprised because ‘why were you upset.’ He got up and tried to console you, but you flinched away and said “Don’t, just don’t Ushijima.”

“I’m sorry Y/N...”

“Why are you sorry? Do you even know what you’re apologising for?”

“No.”

“Well then, just seems to prove my point further...” you go to leave before saying “thanks for the wonderful time... I guess we just weren’t meant to be.”

AN: can someone appreciate what I did with Iwaizumis....no? Okay 😃 I feel this one way way more angsty then part one but oh well. What did you think.

General taglist[bold can’t be tagged]: @sakuxxi @iimoonii @hamdehlesmis @Shoyosupremacy @meadowsinjapan @iambashfulperson @kayleighbeccaa @dearkousei @bakugouswh0r3

Get on the taglist here

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Everybody Talks Too Much (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Mute!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence Summary: Whenever Cassandra gets angry, no one wants to deal with her. Well, no one but you, that is. Thankfully, the middle child appreciates your company... not that she'd ever admit it. Notes: Another self-indulgent fic with a selectively mute reader. This one's a lil different. Sections in italic are mostly indications that the reader is miming actions in order to communicate, though there are a few internal thoughts that are marked as such. Unlike the past two I've done, this takes place pre-relationship, so there's some mutual pining of sorts. I think that's the word.

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

Among the many servants of Castle Dimitrescu, there were a number of secret rules to be followed. Guidelines that were never written down, only spoken in hushed whispers, for specific (and dangerous) circumstances. Most could be divided into one of two categories: 1, how to reduce the chances of a Lady of the house killing someone. 2, how to make sure that if they kill someone, it will not be you. Of these rules, there was one that you knew best of all, despite never having been told it. Why? Because you have observed it time and time again. After all, the rule revolved around you. To put it plainly… If Cassandra Dimitrescu was in an awful mood, but had yet to draw blood, send in the mute.

Even now, as you rushed down a corridor, you did not know why this rule was in place. You simply knew that you had been summoned countless times by frantic maidens, to go serve their volatile mistress. Admittedly you did understand their eagerness to thrust the task upon someone else. Cassandra was often considered the deadliest of the Dimitrescu daughters, for she was the quickest to anger, the one with the deepest bloodlust, and took the longest to calm down. Personally, you disagreed, believing that it wasn’t terribly hard to know what she did and did not like. All it took was some observation. It was Daniela who scared you, seeing as she was unpredictable. She didn’t even need to be in a bad mood to want to kill you.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that you saw no danger in working with Cassandra. In fact, you saw a fair bit, such as now: Right as you round the corner, a shiny object hurls past your head, embedding itself into the wall. Had you been walking ever so slightly faster… Well, you preferred not to dwell on such things, especially not when the one who threw the thing was still nearby. Based on the howling laughter and swarm of insects that moves around you, the intended target was Lady Daniela. Across the room is the markswoman herself; Cassandra stood tall, huffing in anger, staring at the spot her sister had just vacated from.

“Damn it!” She yelled, stomping her foot as if the resulting shockwave might do what her weapon had not. Oddly amused, you’re quick to remove the sickle from the wall, careful as to not damage it. It’s a tad dirty, but nothing you can’t fix with your handy pocket cloth. Cleaning as you walk, you slowly move towards your employer, not even bothering to spare her a glance. After all, you had your own rules for dealing with her.

(1: Avoid eye contact for at least one minute after an outburst.)

By the time you make it to Cassandra, the minute has come and gone, allowing you to ever-so politely look her in the eyes when you return her blade. She scoffs, then practically rips the sickle from your hands. This was your job, however, so you made no complaints. Not that you could, at least not verbally. Instead, you gave a short bow of acknowledgement. Afterwards you stood still, awaiting either instructions or a dismissal. Neither came.

“I can’t believe that little shit tried to take my favorite dagger and thought she could get away with it! Agh, the nerve of her! Can you believe this?” Cassandra snapped, turning to you as if you might agree with her. Nod, simple yet effective. “At least you know how to handle a blade. Damn Daniela is lucky she didn’t get any scratches on mine.” Then she pulls the knife in question from its place on her belt, letting it gleam in the light. A soft exhale, head tipping to the side, wow is it pretty. So is the one holding it. Your mind wanders but your gaze does not. Always polite, always ready to serve.

(2: Do not get distracted; she is no patient lover, rather a demanding boss.)

“Cassandra! What was all that noise a minute ago?” Someone called, interrupting your ‘conversation’. The speaker soon appears, being none other than Lady Bela, the most reasonable of the castle residents. Though that meant little, considering the nature of her family. As if to prove your point, Cassandra merely rolls her eyes in reply, refusing to divulge the truth. And so Bela turned her gaze to you, perking a brow. “Feeling up to talking today?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Of course, your hands are already moving, not even waiting for her to finish speaking. This is a game you know intimately.

A hand goes to your belt, moving to pull a nonexistent blade from its sheath. Raising it, moving it forward then back several times, launching it towards the wall- towards the hole left behind. Then shifting, waving your hand in front of your face while exhaling a sharp breath. Flinching. An exaggerated gulp, pretending to check if your nose is still attached, sighing in relief. Lastly, an inclination of your head towards the culprit. Cassandra.

“I was aiming for Daniela. Not that it matters, nobody got hurt,” she stated, confident. Both hands clasped together, then tapping the palms together, mimicking a heartbeat at a reasonable pace. Suddenly a stomp. The beating stops, and you hold your hands next to your ear, as if listening for signs of life. Pause. Three seconds. Worried expression, eyes wide. Finally, fast as a gunshot, the heart beats again, wildly. At this, Bela shoots her sister a look of doubt, as well as judgement. Hoping to change the subject, Cassandra looks to you. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Rubbing your chin, thinking. Squinting for effect. Ah, got it! Both hands go to your sides, lifting the imaginary hem of a dress you aren’t wearing. Waltzing forward, yet in place, with the poise expected of a professional maid. Then the focus shifts to your face. Fear. A silent scream, a hand at your forehead, feeling like you… might… faint. Falling backwards, making a step at the very last second to prevent a real collapse. End scene.

“Someone was scared?” Bela asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. When you nod, she does as well, considering the implications. “Why would they send you?”

“I hardly care why, I just want to know who so I can kick their ass,” Cassandra interjects, taking a step closer to you. All you do in response is shrug. Unsurprisingly this is not enough to please her, and before you know it she’s wrapped a hand around your throat. “Give. Me. A. Name. Now.” A perked brow. Thoughts practically telegraphed. ‘What do you expect?’ Opening your mouth, slightly, then wide, back to almost closed. No sound comes out. Obviously. It’s not like you wanted to break your own rule, but in this case you had no choice.

(3: Give her whatever she wants, consequences be damned.)

Luckily for you, Bela acts as a foil to Cassandra, there to smooth the seas. Moving behind you, she reaches into your back pocket and retrieves the notepad you keep there. Then she’s handing it to you while making eye contact with her sister. Cassandra promptly releases you, though she’s clearly not pleased, going so far as to push you away in one last act of anger. Internally you roll your eyes. On the outside, however, you quickly write down everything you know… which isn’t much.

“I don’t remember who it was. A lot of people have asked. This happens a lot.” Then you hand the paper to Bela, who soon looks back up at you in confusion. Too antsy to wait for her own turn, Cassandra yoinks the notepad from her sister’s hands, reading it over several times before reacting.

“What the fuck? Why would they send you to me because somebody pissed their pants in fear? I’m going to kill someone. Ugh, I don’t- this doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” Cassandra ranted, pacing back and forth, looking like she wanted to destroy something immediately. To your surprise, Bela doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned. If anything, she looks amused, and smiles when the two of you make eye contact. Something tells you that she knows something that you don’t. Before you can react, she quietly retrieves your notepad and returns it to you. Then she pauses, thinking, eying you with curiosity.

“Why don’t you go for now? See if anyone thanks you for stepping in, hmm?” She suggested, tone implying that this was absolutely about something else entirely. Still, you don’t care to disobey, and so you bid the two of them farewell with a deep bow. As you leave, you can almost make out part of what they say next. But you’re certain that you must have heard incorrectly. “Showing your favoritism a little too much, sister? If even the servants can see it-” the rest of the sentence is cut off by angry muttering from Cassandra. After that you’re too far away to hear anymore. What a strange day...

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

“Hey, you know where Lady Cassandra’s room is, right?” Ygritte asked, casually, definitely not having just been told by someone else that you were the solution to her problem. Pretending that you were unaware of this, you give her a smile and a nod. Later, behind her back, you will mentally add her to your list of people to watch out for. Maybe even decide to refuse to share your biscuits with her. In the meantime, you pretend that you don’t mind whatever task she’s about to dump on you. “Can you bring these books to her? I really have to get back to the kitchen soon, and that’s in the opposite direction…”

Technically true. Something told you that the real problem was that Cassandra had been extra loud the past few days. Regardless, you accept the books from her, leaving before she even finishes thanking you. Why do people do this? I don’t get it, you think. It’s like they think I’m immune to her rage. If that were true, I’d gladly throw myself between her and others. But no, that’s not the case. Hmmph, if only they saw my scars. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you keep walking, subconsciously rubbing the spot on your arm where Cassandra had cut you. Well, the worst spot. Being pain tolerant had made her take interest in you, during your first few weeks, but it’s what allowed you to learn her rules. Your rules, really.

Knock. Knock. A pause… three more, much softer. The door swings open, revealing your Lady, whose eyes widen at the sight of you. Tipping your hat (which you are not wearing), you greet her, forcing another smile. Then you present the books, free hand gesturing with a spiral motion towards them. She doesn’t respond. No, wait, she glances at the door hinges, considering closing the door in your face. Now both of you are staring at each other, daring the other to move.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she finally said. There’s a gruffness to her voice that you hadn’t expected. It’s unlike her usual tone, less angry, more tired. Were those bags under her eyes?... No, just smudged makeup. “Don’t just stand there- tell me why you’re here.” Again, you gesture to the books, extending your hands further towards her. This time she takes a half-step backwards to avoid you. Peculiar. “Someone else was supposed to bring them, dipshit. Fucking hell, why can’t anyone around here do their damn jobs?” At last, she takes the books from you, carrying them deeper into your room. Though she does not close the door, you assume that your job is done. Or maybe you simply do not wish to deal with a Cassandra who’s frustrated by your specific presence. Either way, it breaks one of your rules, though you do not remember until it is too late.

(4: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family.)

“Where the hell are you going?” The sound of buzzing flies, a blur of motion around you, then the form of Cassandra solidifying in front of you. One of her hands is raised, pressing against the center of your chest. She pushes you, hard, making you stumble backwards into her room. Next thing you know you’ve crashed onto her floor. A tad stunned, you bring a hand up to hold your head, blinking rapidly for a few seconds. There’s the sound of a door closing, and then someone’s trying to help you stand. “I didn’t say you could leave yet. Now c’mon, I’ve got stuff for you to do.” Then she’s guiding you to her bed, making you sit down on the end. Panicked thoughts race through your mind one after another. What exactly was she intending? Thankfully you don’t have to wait long to find out. “Read through these, and-” a pause, like she hadn’t known what she was going to say until she was already speaking- “take notes. Make a summary of the bookmarked sections, or whatever.” Handing you a couple books (neither of which being ones you had just brought to her), she sits on the other side of the bed, refusing to look at you. She does, however, say one last thing, voice barely above a whisper. “Just stay for a while, okay?”

Inside your head, you make a mental note to amend your list of rules.

(4.b: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family. If Cassandra asks you to stay, you stay, no matter what. It’s worth it.)

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

MY DEAR WIFE. I DESIRE A SEQUEL TO THE JIMMY EMPIRE FIC. I MADE THIS TUMBLR ACCOUNT TO MAKE MY DEMANDS. NOW GO BE FREE. WRITE YOU FANTASTIC FANFIC WRITER YOU. -BEST SPOUSE, PURP <3

this was a popular request LMAO :D

here’s the first part

…

The ringing of her communicator wakes Lizzie up late in the night. Blinking herself awake, she quickly answers it, speaking quietly so as to not awaken her sleeping fiance next to her. “Hello?”

“Lizzie, it’s Pixl,” comes the familiar British voice. “I’m so sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” Lizzie says. “Is something wrong?”

“Something’s happened with Jimmy.”

Lizzie’s heart skips a beat. “Is he okay?”

“I’ll explain everything later but I could really use your help right now. Are you able to come to the Cod Empire?”

Momentarily forgetting that Pixl can’t see her, Lizzie nods. “Of course, I’ll come over right away.”

“Thanks so much, Lizzie,” says Pixl gratefully. “See you soon.”

“See you.”

Lizzie puts down her communicator and gets out of bed. Just as she’s finished changing, her fiance stirs in his bed and murmurs, “What’s going on? Who was that?”

“Pixl,” replies Lizzie softly, secretly glad he’s awake; she wouldn’t have woken him first. “Something’s happened to Jimmy, and Pixl needs me. You okay to come over to the Cod Empire with me?”

Joel sits up in his bed, immediately more awake. “Of course, of course. Let me get dressed.”

The two fly straight over to the Cod Empire and land outside Jimmy’s house. Pixl answers the door on the first knock. “Queen Lizzie, thank you for coming,” he says gratefully. “And King Joel.”

He leads them inside. Lizzie and Joel both gasp simultaneously as they spot Jimmy lying on the bed.

Joel freezes but Lizzie dashes to his side and grasps his hand, staring down in horror at the bruises covering Jimmy’s face. “Oh my goodness! What happened to him?! Is he okay?!”

Pixl joins her on Jimmy’s other side. “He’s recovering,” he responds grimly. “You know the demon Xornoth that’s shown their face around the server lately?”

“Heard of them.”

“fWhip and Sausage seem to be around the epicentre of the whole thing. They captured Jimmy, kept him in a cell for a whole day, beat him several times, then tried to sacrifice him to Xornoth. Scott and I managed to save him but he almost died from his injuries before Scott was able to heal him somewhat with magic.”

Lizzie gazes down at Jimmy with a worried expression, gently touching his face. He stirs slightly under her touch.

After a moment, she speaks again, her tone low and dangerous. “fWhip and Sausage, you said?”

Pixl nods. “Yeah. Scott and I chased them off but I’m a little worried about them returning to finish the job. That’s why I asked you over; I could do with some help protecting him. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” Lizzie retracts her hand and presses her fist into her palm. “Hell, if either of them show their faces around here, I’ll rip them apart with my bare hands.”

Now Joel moves closer to the bed, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Poor Jimmy… I can’t imagine how terrified he must’ve been.”

As Pixl opens his mouth to respond, another knock at the door sounds. The three frown at each other, trying to work out who could possibly be at the door.

After a moment, Pixl heads back over to the door and answers it. His gaze darkens when he sees who’s standing there. “You’re not welcome here.”

Lizzie stiffens as she hears MythicalSausage’s voice: “I just wanted to ask how Jimmy is. And to… apologise.”

“Apologise?!” Lizzie bursts out.

Joel draws Pixl out of the way as Lizzie storms to the door and shoves Sausage backwards. “You TORTURED my friend and you think you can just walk over here and APOLOGISE?!”

Sausage scrambles back as a furious Lizzie bears down on him. “I had nothing to do with hurting him! That was all fWhip!”

“YOU THINK THAT MAKES IT BETTER?!” Lizzie bellows.

She flings out her arms and manipulates the ocean water into grabbing hold of Sausage and bringing him closer to her. “ACK!” Sausage chokes, struggling uselessly. “LIZZIE!”

“I’m going to kill you, Sausage,” growls Lizzie. “Would you rather be flung high into the air and fall to your death or drowned in salty ocean water?”

“N-Neither!”

A dark smile appears on Lizzie’s face. “Too bad. I’ve decided I’m gonna drown you.”

She lifts the water higher. His scream is abruptly cut off as the water envelopes his head, stopping him from breathing. She watches with satisfaction as his air slowly runs out.

But then Pixl’s voice comes from behind her: “Lizzie, he’s calling for you. He needs you.”

Lizzie pauses, weighing up her options. Eventually, she releases Sausage onto the dock, taking grim pleasure in the way he splutters and coughs up water. “You’re lucky this time, Sausage,” she says. She kneels down beside him and pushes her face close to Sausage’s with a menacing glare. “But if you ever, and I mean EVER, come near Jimmy again, you’re gonna wish you were never born. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Y-Yes!” gasps Sausage.

Lizzie steps back and lets Sausage flee, before rushing back inside and back to Jimmy’s side. Her ally is stirring, his eyelids fluttering. “L-Lizz...ie…”

“I’m here,” whispers Lizzie softly, holding his hand against her cheek to reassure him of her presence. “I’m here, Jimmy. Are you okay?”

Jimmy coughs weakly. “M-My wrists hurt.”

Frowning, Lizzie pushes down Jimmy’s sleeve, revealing the thick red marks. “Wh-What is this?!” she gasps. “Pixl?”

“It’s…” Pixl hesitates, knowing what his next words will likely cause. “They’re burn marks. He had his hands tied behind his back for most of the day in that cell.”

Joel glances sharply at his fiancee. “Uh oh.”

Thunder sounds overhead as dark clouds rapidly slide across the sky. Lizzie’s expression remains steady, but lightning flashes in her eyes. “I’ll be right back, Jimmy,” she says, her voice as steady as her expression. But it’s just an act for Jimmy’s benefit and both Pixl and Joel know it.

Neither Pixl nor Joel stop her as she storms out of the hut and takes off flying towards the Grimlands. She lands atop the outer wall, rain starting to fall from the sky.

“FWHIP!” she bellows, her voice rolling through the clouds and echoing across the land.

Seconds later, the count himself appears atop his tower, within audible distance despite the increasingly loud thunder overhead. “Queen Lizzie!” He spreads his arms wide. “How may I help you?”

A bolt of lightning strikes the very top of fWhip’s tower.

“Aha, what have I done to invoke the wrath of the Ocean Queen?” fWhip laughs.

Instead of replying verbally, Lizzie lifts her arms and summons a giant wave of water from the river, sending it crashing down like a tsunami over the Grimlands.

“NO!” fWhip yells. “My villagers! You’re gonna drown my villagers!”

“MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU TORTURED JIMMY AND TRIED TO MURDER HIM!” roars Lizzie.

fWhip stares at her for a moment as he finally remembers that Lizzie is one of Jimmy’s closest allies. “...oh…”

Shaking himself into action, fWhip dives down into his flooded village. Lizzie watches him, taking grim satisfaction in watching him flounder around in desperation. She doesn’t even realise how close he is to death until-

fWhip drowned

Lizzie quickly dissipates the flood and jumps down to look for fWhip’s items. As she’s starting to pick them up, fWhip reappears, so she retreats back to a safe distance.

“I’ll get my revenge for this, Ocean Queen,” growls fWhip. “I will not take the attempted murder of my villagers lying down.”

“I don’t give a crap,” Lizzie snaps back. “Don’t you dare think about going near Jimmy ever again, because if you do, I can promise you I will wipe your goddamn empire off the face of the world and I will NOT regret doing it.”

fWhip narrows his eyes. “You’re messing with the wrong empire. I too have the power to wipe an empire out of existence.”

“I live in the ocean. The bulk of my empire is underwater now. Your TNT will make a scratch at most.”

fWhip’s mouth opens, then closes again. After a moment, he looks away. “Fine.”

Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re backing down that easily?”

“I’m being smart. You’ve no idea what’s coming, Lizzie. I do. I need to prepare. I can’t afford to be dragged into another war right now.”

As fWhip turns, he finds Lizzie extremely close to him. She grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him close so that their faces are inches apart. “Then don’t start one,” she snarls. “Stay away from my allies.”

She shoves fWhip away and takes off again, flying back to the swamp. Part of her feels bad at the attack on fWhip’s innocent villagers but she pushes it aside. fWhip tortured Jimmy and was perfectly willing to slaughter him when he was tied up and defenceless.

Lizzie has no sympathy or mercy for a person like that.

When she gets back, Joel meets her at the door. “Lizzie, you’re back!” he gasps. “I saw the death message in chat.”

“Yes. fWhip needed to be told that I won’t tolerate him hurting my Jimmy.” Her gaze flickers from Joel to Pixl and back again. “Or any of you.”

Joel gazes at her with almost visible hearts in his eyes. “I love you so much, Lizzie.”

Lizzie can’t help a chuckle. “I love you too.”

“Guys, guys, come quick!” Pixl calls suddenly. “Guys!”

The two quickly rush to Jimmy’s beside but stop dead simultaneously when they see what Pixl is so panicked about.

A mark has appeared on Jimmy’s neck. It looks like some kind of rune, but what’s worrying about it is the fact that it’s glowing red.

“What is this?” Lizzie gasps. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know! It just appeared!”

After a few seconds, the glowing dies down, leaving only the clear black mark.

“This has got to be something to do with the demon,” says Pixl shakily. “I don’t know what or how or why, but somehow, fWhip and Sausage’s attempted sacrifice of Jimmy must’ve caused this.”

“But what can we do about it?” Joel asks. “What can we do to help?”

Pixl has no answer to this.

Nobody does.

[phoenixyfriend]

I’ve been trying to figure out the best obi wan ship. They all have one slightly problematic thing this way or that. I’ve landed on the idea of obi wan and an equal is pretty top tier. But then I saw a picture of Coran from voltron. Coran and Obiwan might be a disaster but also both are dad shaped, both are bad ass, both are ginger, both have an accent. I think it could work. But another part of me is like Coran is just obi and jarjar mashed together. At the very least they hooked up.

Hey I just had restaurant ramen and Starbucks and actually feel like a human being so let's do something unnecessary but funny. I'm taking this as a challenge, anon.

Also IMO Coran has more in common with C3P0 than with JarJar

So obviously, both of these happen in Big Space, but the difference appears to be density. We see about the same complexity of culture and species interactions, but Voltron covers more galaxies. It's vaguely implied that Earth, at least, is the only planet with sapient life in the Milky Way.

I think the way I want to play this out, culturally, is that the Voltron area of the universe covers a much wider, but much more sparsely populated area, while the SW-verse is just the one very densely populated (in part because apparently humans just went Literally Everywhere) galaxy, where they didn't necessarily bother with developing the tech to go to other galaxies (except Rishi, which only sort of counts) because they haven't really even charted out their own yet. It was never contacted by the Voltron side of things because [checks notecards full of excuses] it's really far away from Altea and all that, and the Force shielded the galaxy from Galra interests because Reasons.

All this to say that the two franchises didn't interact until after the Voltron plotline was already over. We'll say it went mostly canon, except Allura survived because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck that.

We'll say that this is mid-TCW, you know, before Obi-Wan is a bundle of repressed traumas and bad coping mechanisms that's lost almost everyone he's ever loved to the dark side through death or corruption. He's still (mostly) okay! Anakin's not dark (or at least, not as dark as he could be; Obi-Wan doesn't know about the Tuskens), and Ahsoka's still in good standing and most people are alive and--and okay the army is a massive ethical violation he hates with his very soul and he misses Qui-Gon and Anakin's keeping secrets and pulling away from him every day but He's Fine, Guys.

He's Fine.

In comes a ship from not Wild Space, but beyond that. Intergalactic visitors, from the direction of the deeply concerning Force bullshit they felt a few years ago. Translation tech is decent enough on both sides that they get to talking pretty quickly. The explorer is actually a member of the Blade of Marmora, who gets the absolute most basic info (approximately this many inhabited planets, approximately this many trillions of sapients in the recorded galaxy, basic structure of the government for the past however many years, most recent conflict, etc.)

BoM person is like "cool, okay so you guys are really well set-up so I'm just gonna head back and kick this up a few rungs of the coalition ladder because this is way above my paygrade, I'll make sure you get some diplomats who can maybe help out with the whole galactic civil war situation as neutral parties."

The Voltron Coalition does send a diplomat! They, uh, also send Coran, who isn't technically a diplomat, but he's high-level.

The thing is, okay, that Coran is mostly just... passably competent at things. He's a jack of all trades, master of none type. He knows a lot of things, actually, but his practical knowledge in high pressure situations tends to be up in the air. He knows how to fix the Castle Ship and various technologies, but all of that info is ten thousand years out of date. He was a competent fighter at one point but these days his back gives out. He's very knowledgeable regarding intergalactic politics but, again, that information is ten thousand years out of date. He's also a little prone to social gaffs in dicey situations (e.g. the inciting incident in the Voltron Show episode where he misses the single day with clear skies), but puts in so much goddamn effort to make things happen.

In this manner, he's like a warped mirror of what Obi-Wan is and could be.

THAT SAID

Coran is actually really good with teenagers, and specifically with training them.

And Obi-Wan... isn't.

Obi-Wan's snarky and snippy and sassy, and he's decent enough at teaching and he's great at being a jokey friend and all, but he's not necessarily very good at emotions. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, the teenagers he spends the most time with are Really Full Of Emotions. He tries, bless him, but he's just... he doesn't respond well to emotional conversations at the best of times.

His son-figure saying "You're like a father to me" leads to a response of... radio silence. Guys. That's not the mark of a man who knows how to talk about his feelings with the people he cares about.

In swans Coran with the various other diplomatic envoys of the visiting extragalactic community. The entire situation is really leading to a lull in the war because nobody wants to risk pissing off this clearly well-funded, well-powered third party. As a result, many of the High Generals can interact with the envoys, even if they spend quite a bit of time eyeing the Separatist representatives on the other side of the room, because clearly Everyone Needs A Seat At This Table.

It's a very tense situation.

Obviously, Coran is exactly the weird uncle that goes around telling plausibly-exaggerated stories about Weblums and Yalmors and Balmeras. I'm going to say at least one former Paladin is there, maybe Hunk. Hunk's fun, and also very willing to help Coran make friends and seem Amicable instead of Distant by correcting some of the exaggerations. There's a nice, calm atmosphere in a bubble around Coran and his nonsense, and it's a weird situation but arguably just... you know. It's good. He's good at making people feel safe around him.

Cue the hissed argument between Skywalker and Kenobi. The actual cause of said argument isn't important, just the fact that, in a dark corner where they're less likely to cause a PR issue, Anakin and Obi-Wan are having it out. Anakin's maybe twenty, still a lanky ragebaby, all that fun stuff. Obi-Wan is a the endpoint of every too-young brotherdad. He's thirty-six but feels like he's sixty-three. He's tired, but trying so damn hard to still connect with Anakin and just--just--

Obi-Wan gives himself a few minutes to calm down before following Anakin. He doesn't even remember what they were arguing about, really, but he has to mend the bridge before it frays even more than it already has. If Anakin goes to Palpatine for advice again, he's going to... do something. Obi-Wan isn't sure what, but he just has to fix this.

What he finds is... well, Anakin did end up going to vent to a man of an earlier generation who acts like a slightly eccentric older relative, but it's not Palpatine for once.

The goofy, slightly abrasive but mostly charming, brightly-colored representative of the Voltron Coalition is standing in the little balcony that Anakin's made it to, listening as Obi-Wan's recently-knighted padawan vents. The man nods and makes noises at the appropriate times, and then asks questions that are... maybe a little too accurate.

"You said that you view him as a father, that he raised you after you left your mother."

"Well, yeah, but he doesn't think I'm ready, or--"

"No parent ever does."

"...my mom thought I was ready to become a Jedi."

"I can't speak for your mother," the representative says, "but the princess of my people, Allura... I half-raised that girl from the beginning, and after the destruction of Altea, we were all the other had left. I watched her lead battles and bring life to planets, trying to rebuild a universe out of the ashes of what we'd left behind... I saw the evidence with my own eyes, and I still, every time, I worried for her."

"Why?"

"I worried that she'd be hurt, that she wasn't ready, that she'd make a decision she regretted. Often, she did, and I had to help her back up, and while she's always come back, stronger than before... she is the closest thing I have ever had to a daughter, and I will always worry for her. Every parent does. Do you think, perhaps, that your own Jedi Master, that you consider a father, may worry because he looks at you like a son? That it's not that he doesn't trust you, but that he doesn't trust the world around you?"

Obi-Wan feels his heart in his throat.

The conversation continues in that vein. While Obi-Wan can't say he likes the fact that this stranger is putting words in his mouth, if only as hypotheticals, he can't deny that there's a part of him that relaxes as Anakin does, as every frustrated fresh-knight question gets a measured elderly-steward response that's angled to consider the interpretation that favors Anakin and Obi-Wan in equal measure. Every word encourages Anakin to talk things out and lay boundaries and express his frustrations to Obi-Wan in the plainest words possible.

There's a story in there, more than one. The representative tends to go off on tangents, ones that Anakin sometimes finds interesting and sometimes just resigns himself to. Mostly, though, it goes well, and Obi-Wan... well, he's always been 'a nosy little bastard,' according to quite a few people.

(In his defense, the terms they'd used about Quinlan's 'investigative personality' had been quite a bit stronger.)

He eavesdrops to the end, and Anakin doesn't notice at all. Obi-Wan's not sure if he should try to address Anakin's lack of awareness of the world around him. He's not technically Anakin's master anymore. The comment may be taken as a criticism of his worth and capability, rather than a sincere desire to see his padawan not die.

He approaches the representative instead. He intends to introduce himself. Instead, the first words that tumble out of his mouth are:

"How do you do it?"

The man--older than he looks from a distance, more wrinkles than the bright hair would suggest, but not quite elderly yet--turns and lifts a brow. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry, I'm--" Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man you were just talking to is my former padawan, er, my former apprentice. I've been finding it harder and harder to speak with him over the past few years, and it seems that every interaction we have leads to an argument. How do you... manage that? I can't get him to listen to me at all."

"Ah, teenagers," the man sighs.

"He's twenty."

The representative pauses, and turns to him. "Are you the one he says raised him? The father?"

"Well... yes, I suppose that's one way to phrase it," Obi-Wan says, eyes darting to the side. He doesn't know how to explain the whole attachment situation to someone who barely knows what a Jedi is. He has even less of an idea of how to explain his own broken ability to speak of emotion, the parts of his mind that Bant clucks over and attributes to his own complicated relationship with Qui-Gon. "I had custody as his primary guardian from ages nine to nineteen and was the primary individual for handling his schooling, health, and general upbringing."

"That sounds to me like a very convoluted way of saying you were his father in all but name."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm not exactly old enough to be his father, and I wasn't exactly the person he was supposed to learn from; I was the... back-up option."

"It seems he cares for you very much."

"He didn't have much of a choice," Obi-Wan says, with the kind of helpless smile and awkward shrug he's long gotten used to sharing with people when they ask. "And I assure you he'd have been happier with the man that was meant to teach him."

"I'd say that the 'would have' in this situation is much less important than what is," the representative says. Obi-Wan probably should have paid more attention to his name. "I wasn't in a position to define my relation to Allura or her father in the way that truly suited our situation, by... oh, tradition, social norms, public relations, take your pick. I was a very well-regarded official, of course, but I wasn't royalty, not even nobility, and I certainly wasn't wasn't legally or publicly part of the family. But for all the limitations there, I was still able to find ways to tell her and her family what they meant to me, and they in return. Your apprentice cares for you very much, and I'm sure you care back, but I'd hazard quite the guess that you've no idea how to tell him that."

"I... I shouldn't," Obi-Wan says. "I'm fond of him, of course, but I've no wish to smother him, and to simply say it would be undignified. I imagine he'd laugh in my face."

The representative raises one eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

"Master Kenobi," he says carefully. "Might I suggest you go find your young man, tell him you love him, and perhaps give him a hug?"

Obi-Wan's face flares red. It's been years since anyone short of Yoda has spoken to him like that.

"I'm not a child," he sniffs, trying to angle enough away that the blush isn't as noticeable. He's damnably prone to such things. "You're not that much older than me."

The man laughs, and Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his lips in a futile attempt to hid the embarrassment a little more. "Oh, not counting the stasis, I've well reached the age of six hundred and twenty-four, my boy!"

Obi-Wan chokes on his drink.

The man laughs a little more, but thumps him on the back until he's breathing normally again.

"Yes, most of the humans I've told have had quite the reaction!" the representative assures him. "But yes, even with the times adjusted to what any given local year is, I am significantly longer-lived than most species."

"No kidding," Obi-Wan manages. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over at the representative. He takes in the wrinkles and bright eyes, and says, "Well, I must say you look very well for a near-human of such an age. I can only name one person in that category that has managed better, and I haven't seen her since I was a child."

"I shall take that as the compliment it's intended to be," the representative says, twisting the edge of his mustache and beaming.

The man is... well, goofy, really, and quite a bit older than Obi-Wan had thought, but he's quite the charmer. Obi-Wan faintly compares him to a few different people in the back of his mind, but nothing quite fits. For all that the man is quite the jokester and--going by some things he'd seen from the corner of his eye in the main party--a master of physical comedy, the representative is actually more competent than he looks, and for all his visible age, not bad to look at. He is also, seemingly, an expert in dealing with teenagers and young adults, something Obi-Wan himself is... decidedly not.

He really should go speak with Anakin.

And there's a war to fight.

He doesn't really have much time, even with the recent lull.

He's in no place to be looking at the clean-shaven jaw and wondering what it would feel like under his lips, or to let himself consider whether this man would be the kind to have an hours-long discussion as to the narrative forms common in other galaxies, and whether they have anything paralleled to those in Obi-Wan's own, or if this man would show the same enthusiasm over teas that he'd shown over the hors d'oeuvres inside.

He should... really go find Anakin.

"I suppose it's time to find my padawan," he says, more to fill the air than anything. "Er... thank you, both for speaking with him, and for speaking with me."

"Not a problem at all, Master Kenobi!" the representative says, and Obi-Wan realizes that there's one last thing he may have... forgotten.

"This is terribly embarrassing, but I don't believe I caught your name?" Obi-Wan says.

"Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!" the man says, with a sweeping bow. "As you can imagine, most simply call me Coran."

"Then I insist you call me Obi-Wan," he says, and before he can stop himself, "Might I bother you with an invitation to a shared tea time? You seem a knowledgeable fellow, and I'd appreciate the chance to... eh, pick your brain, shall we say."

It's not the smoothest come on he's ever put out there, or the most easily interpreted, but... well. Perhaps it's for the best. He's rather often found his tastes going in irresponsible directions, and it'll be much easier to brush this off without diplomatic incident if there's room for Coran to politely ignore the less platonic options.

Obi-Wan hopes he doesn't.

It's very selfish of him, but a dalliance with an older gentleman... well. He does, perhaps, make such irresponsible decisions, even now.

"I do believe I'd enjoy such a thing!" Coran enthuses, grabbing Obi-Wan's hand and shaking it in large, effusive movements.

Oh, this is a terrible idea, Obi-Wan thinks, even as he exchanges comm numbers and says goodbye.

Still.

He likes the idea of having at least a little fun, sedate or less so, while they have some time to themselves.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Okay since I’m not satisfied reblogging the recap as is since the older ones weren’t as good, I’ll just paste it here but with some edits to include more direct quotes and stuff

This is one of my favorite days for Quackity’s character

---

RECAP: December 6, 2020

- HBomb hosts Niki and Wilbur’s L’Cast

- Fundy continues work on the chess board

- Ranboo is leaving a book with messages to communicate with Tommy

- Fundy and Ranboo visit Tommy and help him through the Nether to find blaze rods. Fundy fills Tommy in on the fact that Dream is officially recognizing L’manburg as a country.

- Tommy falls in lava and loses all his stuff

- Then he burns to death

- Then he falls in lava and loses all his stuff again

- He FINALLY gets an ender chest

- Lazar asks him for help since he’d fallen in lava and needed help getting out. As Tommy does so, Lazar questions why Tommy hasn’t turned against L’manburg. Tommy says it’s because Tubbo is there, but Lazar points out that Tubbo was the one who exiled him.

- Ghostbur comes on and says he has a gift.

- Tommy attempts to rescue Lazar from the depths of the lava pit. Techno starts arguing with him.

- Tommy falls in lava and loses all his stuff again. He gives up on helping Lazar, who is understandably annoyed at him.

- Philza joins the call wondering wtf is happening and why Tommy keeps dying, but Tommy just ends stream

- Psyche! Ghostbur asks Tommy to return to Logstedshire so he dies in lava to fast-travel back. Ghostbur gives Tommy a lodestone compass named “Your Tubbo” that points back to L’manburg at all times. Tommy puts the compass in his ender chest right next to the discs, saying he’ll keep it close to his heart.

- Thunder’s frustrated that Tommy got exiled exiled because the Prank War he was setting up between Dream and Tommy can no longer happen and Thunder’s great villain arc has been cancelled - he is no longer a villain now.

- Now, he wants to do the clay prank to George instead to try and get Dream and George to turn on each other as revenge for Dream burning his house.

- Puffy builds Tommy a second Christmas Tree.

- Quackity declares war on the Dream SMP from Mexican L’manburg. He gets George, Sapnap and Karl on to help. He’s rigged TNT under Eret’s castle bridge and wants to invoke the same ideas as the Mexican Revolution. He wants to put M.L. on the map by staging an assassination and using George’s dethronement as an excuse to start a political movement.

- Sapnap wants to take on Technoblade but Quackity tells him that they have to take things step by step and that it’s an extremely bad idea to do it now.

- Eret asks Hbomb to be one of his knights. HBomb agrees.

- George wants his kingship back

The explosion goes to plan with H and Puffy as witnesses.

— —

CANON DEATH: KARL

Cause: Death by explosion and falling

— —

- George distracts Eret while Quackity, Sapnap and Karl steal his throne. Punz joins Eret’s side as one of his other knights.

- The M.L. side reconvenes in L’manburg and drink invisibility potions. Dream is in Mexican L’manburg. He is tearing the dirt to shreds. Meanwhile, Eret gives a speech to his Knights as they head to Party Island. Dream, alone, is invisible in Boomerville.

- Sapnap gets Dream to log (he says it’s lag). The Dream SMP faction blows up M.L. with TNT. The Mexican L’manburgians kill Puffy.

- They want to head to the Holy Land. Dream says he wants to talk. They collect at the Church.

- They argue. Dream threatens to kill Quackity permanently and make sure Mexican L’manburg can never rise again. 

- Sapnap tells George that he thinks Dream has completely turned against them, and that they’re better off disowning him.

— [Including some more direct quotes here] ---

Quackity: “Listen...this should be between Eret and me, I don’t know why you are getting involved...we will give back the throne, but what we want-”

Dream: “- Mexican L’manburg is not...existing. Ever again...if you wanna destroy and grief the kingdom, then that is called being a terrorist! Listen, Karl, I don’t give a crap if you died, that’s your fault. You died griefing and being a terrorist...”

...

Quackity: “Is that what we’re going off of now? That the entire server can be run by one goddamn person? We’re not even allowed to voice our opinions now? What’s going on? As far as I remember, you’ve been taking all the shots, and anything, nobody has free speech anymore!”

...

Dream: “I think you forget that I designated this as the holy land.”

...

Dream: “I have no problem with Tubbo, who’s leading his country gracefully. You are a terrorist.”

...

Quackity: “What is it that you want from us? We were doing peaceful protest, that’s all we were doing.”

Dream: “Quackity...you’re not doing ‘peaceful protest’ when all I hear is ‘hey, the Dream SMP castle has been sieged.’ ...Look, I...You’re trying to paint me as this tyrant when I’m just trying to maintain peace...if you think Eret’s being too political, come and talk to me! Don’t go and raid my castle and my throne.”

Karl: “YOUR castle? YOUR throne?”

Dream: “Yes!”

Karl: “Dream’s an absolute TYRANT!”

...

Dream: “The only reason it’s a no-kill policy in the first place is because I wanted it to be that way, and it’s enforced by me.”

Karl: “That sounds like a tyrant!”

Dream: “It’s not a tyrant! I’m a humanitarian if anything! It’s not for my agenda...listen, my agenda always, since the beginning, has always been for the SMP to thrive. That has been my agenda, so if you’re saying for my agenda, it makes me a tyrant - no, it doesn’t, it makes me wanting the server to thrive and everyone to be peaceful.”

...

Dream: “In my mind, Mexican L’manburg does not exist as anything whatsoever and you know what? I’ll talk to Tubbo about it and make sure he sees it doesn’t either.”

Karl: “Dream said the same thing about L’manburg back in the day--”

Dream: “No I didn’t!”

...

Dream: “You don’t get a country recognized by being a terrorist, Quackity.”

...

Dream: “I did NOTHING! At all! Until you decided to attack my nation...you know what someone has to do to be recognized? A country that is established has to have a fair, and just, and logical ruler, and you are NONE of those things. Tubbo is all of those things, and that’s why L’manburg is recognized. 

When Tommy was head of state, and Tommy was vice president, you’re right, L’manburg had no right to be recognized...it was the fact that Tommy, a dumbass, was exiled and is no longer in charge of their land anymore...Tubbo would never...never in a million years do what you just did.”

“You know who would? Jschlatt. You know who would? Wilbur. You know who would? Tommy.”

...

Dream: “The king is a figurehead! He knows that!”

Quackity: “So that’s what you are? That’s what you are, Eret? A puppet?”

Dream: “YES!” -- No he’s not a puppet --”

---

M.L. argues that putting a human life above a few blocks of gold is more important.

He says that Quackity is causing the most problems, the number one “enemy” of the SMP right now.

—

- Quackity decides to dissolve Mexican L’manburg for a clean slate and call it something else. He wants the server to have a precedent of establishing new countries without having to go to Dream for recognition every time.

- Eret agrees to recognize Quackity’s new country if they apologize and return the throne.

- Sapnap declares that he no longer wants to fight Techno but Dream instead. He says he wants to slay Dream in front of everyone.

- Overall, Dream and Eret declare it a “failed coup” and say that the destruction is just a consequence of “what happens when you don’t plan anything” but Quackity is satisfied that his new country has been “put on the map.”

- Quackity declares the country to be named “El Rapids” in honor of Cedar Rapids.

- Punz no longer wants to be an official Knight.

- Quackity misses Ghostbur and wants to speak with him. He tells Ghostbur about the war. Ghostbur asks if it was a revolution - Quackity says yes! Ghostbur also informs Quackity that he burnt the sacred texts - How to Sex 2 - in lava.

- Karl streams with the intention of rebuilding and preparing for Pokimane’s visit

- Karl steals Eret’s Museum Llamas and gets caught in the act. Fortunately this doesn’t spark up the war again. They take a llama to Party Island.

- They get into trouble at Boomerville and Lazar joins.

- Dream comes online and asks Sam about the prison’s progress. Bad gets annoyed at Sam for destroying the beachfront property value, and he didn’t authorize the seizure of the land. Dream is there helping to shovel but Bad wants him to stop. Bad is angry about the prison being built and starts shouting at Sam.

- Bad tries to negotiate with Dream. Dream refers to the prison as containing a “prisoner.” Singular. And that the prisoner would have nothing, and Bad would be in charge of helping to guard it. There are going to be multiple “layers.”

- The prison will be in the middle of the ocean bit, and Bad would have a terraformed beachfront property. All of the land would be considered property of the Badlands - including the prison.

- People are going to have to go through portals to escape the prison.

- Bad starts to come around to the prison idea. Dream tells Sam he thinks they need more hands to help, potentially Ant and Eret.

- A strange, giant red “egg” has appeared in the corner of Bad’s statue room. He feels a strange aura coming from it, and he’s unable to bring himself to break it.

- Dream says Eret can’t help with the prison but he can help make the beach nicer. Bad says he might want to put Tommy in the prison but Dream says no, Tommy’s already exiled. So the prison isn’t for Tommy.

- Once the prisoner is in there, Dream says they would only be able to be let out “by the server.” It’s got certain secrets that only Dream and Sam know about. Sam says that he could potentially escape from it, but it will be so impenetrable that even if you know the secrets it would still be difficult to escape from.

- Bad shows Dream the Egg. Dream gets creeped out by it.

- Another Red Corruption has appeared near Hutt’s Pizza, and another at the Mansion. Everyone swears that it wasn’t there before, and there wasn’t enough time for someone to place all of it manually in the time that they were down there.

- Bad stabs Dream for trying to “hurt it.” He likes it for some reason.

- Bad asks Dream about who the prison’s for. Dream says “if you can’t kill somebody, you need to lock them up.” He mentions that it’s one of the more powerful people on the server, someone who either provides a threat now or in the future. He has someone in mind.

— —

Dream explains to Bad and Sam that the reason he switched sides in the Manberg-Pogtopia War was because Schlatt gave him something.

And that thing is “a card up his sleeve” until he needs it.

A book of great value.

It puts Dream in danger if people know of it, but also gives Dream power.

The “most valuable thing on the server.”

Something pertaining to the prison.

Something where they wouldn’t believe Dream if he told them what he was given.

— —

- The corruption grows AGAIN despite Dream, Sam and Bad all being in the middle of the ocean

- Another corruption appears on Tommy’s Power Tower

- The water level in New L’manburg has risen again, covering George and Quackity’s mushroom house

- The prison is going to be as tall as a MOUNTAIN

- Dream proposes the idea of Bad giving him the disc to piss off Tommy. Bad says that Skeppy has it so he’ll have to ask some other time. He might trade some information about Schlatt’s book in return for the disc.

- Bad says he likes the name a dono came up with for the corruption – “Blood Vines”

- Dream and Sam removed the Blood Vines on the Mansion to Bad’s dismay. Sam burns the Vines and Bad goes on a murderous rampage against him.

- Technoblade got a “Bee our guest” achievement

- Dream burns down the Eiffel Tower again.

- The prison will be reinforced with 15 layers of obsidian, and the guards will have Ender Pearl Stasis Chambers that are alarm-activated.

- The Blood Vines have sprouted up from Schlatt’s Grave.

The prison’s unofficial name as of right now is “Pandora’s Vault,” but it is subject to change.

---

(You can tell this was written a while ago lmao)

[gunkreads]

Man Brando McSando really has touched every single corner of pop fantasy literature hasn’t he. Fantasy authors can’t even get interviewed without being asked about him. It’s almost as bad as how much they have to talk about Tolkien. Sometimes it feels like all other modern authors are being told “You are here, up near the top of the game, just a little below The Great Master Sanderson” and I think it’s a nasty consequence of “too many people are able to talk to each other about this”. I’ve got my beef with Sanderson’s writing, sure, but I brook no actual aggression against his position as a popular author so it’s not relevant here. The problem is that everyone’s read him and everyone wants to know what other authors think of him. Some of the questions are asked as bait for the author to praise Sanderson and some are bait to disrespect him, but they’re all still bait and I hate the way his name dominates conversations. That someone like Rothfuss should have to answer questions about Sanderson absolutely baffles me. Besides being really good fantasy, their books don’t really have much in common.

It’s like there’s this (very Reddit-esque) stance among fans of the broader genre of fantasy that Sanderson is the lynchpin of modern opinion and no opinion can be had without using him as a reference point. It suits the general flow of online discussion, since the medium and the communities built in it tend to demand insane accuracy of language and self-deprecation about unpopular opinions, by creating an anchor point so nobody ever misses a comparison and everyone understands what opinions you do and don’t share with them. I don’t think this is a good way to talk about media because it requires (or is a consequence of) nuance being kicked in the dick in favor of hard stances; we all know and agree that hard stances start fights over the tiniest, stupidest differences, so we can agree that this ain’t great.

There’s also the fact that Sanderson has somehow built up this absolutely rock-solid rebar-reinforced bombproof underground bunker of a fanbase. As with any author, the majority of the people who read his books are pretty normal about it, but there’s this plutonium core of fans who are just absolutely goddamn insane to a degree I don’t tend to see many other places, ESPECIALLY with books. Maybe I’m crazy, maybe I’m hypercritical, maybe I’m an asshole, but given five minutes, I could riff out five or ten issues I have with just about every book I love. Quite often, I can moot more about books I love more. Sanderson, specifically, seems to have attracted a pretty significant community of these people who view critical writing about their favorite books as personal attacks and actively rail against suggestions that there are flaws present.

I wouldn’t broach this as a noteworthy issue if I didn’t know at least two of these people in real life. You don’t need the details, but the fact that I’ve had to take a step back and reassess these people after they reacted SUPER aggressively to my moderate dislike of some stuff Sanderson does is frustrating to no end. I have my theories about what in his writing makes people Act Like This, but they’re not... uh... “well-researched” or “an appropriate topic of casual discussion”, especially coming from someone like me.

So basically if you go to a con or any kind of Q&A and you ask an author to compare themselves to Brandon Sanderson, however tangentially, I think you’re making a mistake by trying to transpose the formula we use for online fanbase discussions into the real world. We talk a certain way online and almost no good comes of trying to translate it to real life.

[hoodoo12]

Elegy (4/6)

These two’ll be the death of me, @clairjohnson . . . Home again, home again, jiggity jig, even if that home is a tomb. Despite drunkenness, something unexpected occurs.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

@turtlepated @thewolfisapartofmysoul @beejiesbitch @janitor-boy @angelicspaceprince @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice `

If she hadn’t been so focused on keeping him upright his words would have knocked her down. Maria had heard this man flirt a hundred times over, but nothing ever so flattering and eloquent. The most beautiful. Her stomach twisted at the compliment. Both unbelievably flattered and heartbroken all at once. Had he always thought this? Or had he really just gone overboard with the drinks tonight? 

She was about to respond, to express how completely touched she was by his words, when he started to talk again. Beej’s announcement of their arrival, and subsequent stumble, snapped her out of her thoughts. When had they gotten here? She hadn’t even realized they’d gone through a door. 

Didn’t matter. The Netherworld was a strange place, Betelgeuse was strange, it was easier just to accept things as they were. What was harder to accept, however, was his home. It was practically barren, save for a bed, table, and wooden chair. The only light in the room came from a few scattered candles that revealed debris strewn across his old wooden floor.

It looked like a crypt. It might be a crypt. 

“This is where you stay?” she asked, unable to hide the shock in her voice. Her place was hardly a palace, but it was clean. Bright. She couldn’t imagine ever spending a night here. Let alone however many hundreds of years he’d been dead. The mere concept made her chest tighten in pity. 

“Let’s get you over to the bed . . .”

"Gives me incentive to get top side," he muttered half under his breath at her blurted question. "Who cares anyway? I close my eyes and it's gone. I don't see it. No one else does either." 

She hadn't taken her arm from around his waist. With her continued assistance, he shuffled over towards his bed. The distance wasn't far, but as if to help bolster the fact his place was more fleabag hotel than the Ritz-Carlton, his foot caught a stack of Handbooks for the Recently Deceased--how did those get there? It couldn't be that he'd stolen them from recently deceased in order to con them--

--and he stumbled. The four walls around them did a looping dance. Automatically his grip over her shoulders tightened even as his other hand went for the rusty iron foot rail on his bed. He managed to remain upright, but had jerked her along with him. 

As he recaught his balance, the room settled back into place. 

She'd been close while walking with him, but there'd still been a detachment. He'd managed to scatter that with his ham-fisted, foolish misstep; Maria had been pulled right to him. 

With a jerky, unnatural movement, he lifted his arm off her. 

"Sorry," he apologized.

Top side. She and others, including Juno, had wondered for decades how he’d manage to find ways to the world of the living. There were rules. Passes you needed to apply for - but he, in normal Betelgeuse fashion, skirted by it all. 

She was about to snap back at his flippant comment when he tripped over what appeared to be a pile of handbooks. Maria reminded herself to inquire on those later. Thankfully Beej caught himself on the bed, saving them both from falling face first on the wood floor. In his effort to stay balanced the arm around her shoulder moved forward, effectively pulling her into his chest. One arm still wrapped around his waist, the other now flat on his chest, she peered up at him with embarrassment. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he was sturdy, and she felt unusually small pressed against him. 

When he detached himself with a slurred apology Maria took in a shaky breath she didn’t need then helped him sit down on the bed. God, he looked so disheveled - more so than usual. His eyes were heavy, shoulders slumped, and his tie was loosened and askew around his neck. 

Without waiting for permission Maria slipped the loose tie up and over his head and hung it gently on the foot rail. Turning back she hesitated, just for a second, before helping him slip his jacket off. She ran her hands over his shoulders and under the jacket, sliding it down his arms. The beauty queen reached around him, leaning in close, and retrieved the jacket and reunited it with his tie. 

“From what I can see of your bed I doubt you take these off when you sleep.” She crouched down and angled his large black boots for him to see. “However, I can’t bring myself to see you place these nasty things on the mattress.”

Some quick finger work on the laces and a few short tugs had both boots off. She placed them neatly at the foot of his bed. Maria brushed some questionable dirt off her hands and returned to the older man, giving him a satisfied once over. Gently, she pressed on his shoulder for him to lay down. 

“Get some rest, Alborotador. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around again soon.”

He felt loose, like his joints had been separated. Maria's gentle guidance around the end of his bed to the side and helping him sit was appreciated, but that was nothing compared to her carefully removing his tie. At some point it'd become loosened, or even in his inebriated state he'd have slapped her hands away. Nobody touched his neck, that was a rule. But she was quick and efficient and the fabric never touched his skin. That would've been enough, but then, but then-- 

She assisted him out of his jacket. Any other time he'd have made some off-color comment or pushed the flirting so hard it would have bordered on desperate. But muddled by the booze and still feeling the deep ache of rejection from those people in goddamned Connecticut, just to have her be attentive, just to have her hands peel him out of his outerwear-- 

A small sigh slipped past his lips. If she heard it, she ignored it.  

Then she didn't leave well enough alone; she actually crouched in front of him in her cocktail dress and heels--everything about her was in stark contrast to the rat's nest he lived in, and he included himself in that melancholy assessment; he should have never brought her here--and worked the laces of his boots loose and pulled them off his feet.

The care and concern pained him. The simple act of touch took him apart. 

When she took his shoulder he almost moaned. Like a man dying of thirst in a desert, he wanted nothing more than to drink in that simple friendly touch. 

It took all his will power to not grab her hand. Not for anything inappropriate, but just to keep it there, so he could soak it in. Instead, he sat dumb and dull as she straightened her skirt and bid him farewell. 

"Why does everyone keep leaving me?" he whispered. There had been a time very recently he'd bellowed that, but here, all he could expend the effort on was something closer to a whimper.

Maria had started to make her way out of the room when he spoke, the sound of his broken voice pulling at her more than the words themselves. Not that the words didn't catch her attention, and in many ways, hurt her. He was drunk, she reminded herself, and sad. She could stay with him a little longer - just until he was unconscious, she already crossed a line by being here, and basically sprinted past said line when she helped him undress. 

"I'm not leaving you," Maria corrected while she walked back over to the bed. "I was just going home. I have no illusions that you won't be darkening my waiting room doorstep again soon." 

Gently, she sat down on the bed beside him, her leg brushing up against his own. 

"Now lay down. Go on." She pushed at him again, moving out of the way for him to lift his legs up. The beauty queen stayed seated beside him, her torso twisted slightly to look down at him while she spoke. 

"If anyone left, it was you, Beej." The words were soft and sad, and she reached out absently to adjust a crease in his white(ish) button up. "Got yourself in so much trouble that Juno had to fire you - and then you were gone. Disappeared like smoke for years, only to show back up in the waiting room looking pissed." 

Maria had been so relieved, and so unbelievably angry to see him after all that time. It was that absence, that complete cut from communication, that had brought her back to calling him Mr. Betelgeuse - a title she already found herself skipping again in favor of his nickname.

Maria appeared at his side again, and blearily he looked up at her. Her nudge wasn't rough but he was so unsteady it was almost enough to topple him. He managed to not just fall back like a drunk--haha--but only just barely. 

Her words came to him as if through cotton wool. Disorganized thoughts moved lazily inside his head; it was so much easier to be angry than this drunken, dazed state he was in. The fact that the beauty queen had even given him the time of day was almost too much to take and much too much to even try and puzzle out. 

In the reaches of his memory he did recall how upset she'd been to see him again, and her cool reception to him ever since the final incident that sent him packing--that he'd designed for at least the chance for freedom. Tonight was the first time in all the times he'd reappear she'd ever done anything more than nod politely and exchange chilly words. 

As she sat primly, lightly beside him, the bed frame buckled. It didn't startle him, he was more than used to it, but he could imagine the surprise on her face as the mattress sagged her closer to him. Her delicate attention to his shirt made him catch her hand. 

"Come here," he croaked out, before clearing his throat, giving her a half-hearted pull. "I gotta tell you something."

The unexpected dipping of the mattress when he laid back surprised her, and she ended up with her back pressed against his side. Maria might have just fallen on top of him, if he hadn’t grabbed the hand that had been adjusting his shirt. 

Deep brown eyes assessed him curiously at the request. He was quite capable of saying whatever it was he needed to say from where she sat now - but the pull of sympathy was still strong. Without a word Maria leaned down to him, her free hand bracing her body on the mattress next to his. Being this close, even closer than when she was helping him walk home, she could pick up the smell of moss and wet dirt that clung to his clothes and skin. There was also the faintest smell of roses - so subtle that she could have second guessed if it was there at all.

She did as requested, and leaned over him. A stray lock of hair escaped from its careful pinning, and tickled his cheek. Maybe if things between them had been different, maybe if he hadn't fucked everything over in that spectacular way that was apparently his specialty, he'd have permission to brush it back. To lift it and settle it behind her ear. A minor but intimate gesture. 

But he didn't. He let her hair stay where it was, because it was also nice to feel it on his skin. 

Now that he had her there, he was at a loss for words. Lots of things flitted through his head: "You deserve better than me." "I missed you." "Wanna go see Saturn? I know a safe place--" 

In the end, he frowned a little as he focused on her features. She was so close everything was blurred; he didn't think it was because of the alcohol. Why in the ever-loving hell did she put up with him? 

"Thank you," he whispered.

There was a long silence while his eyes searched her face. Maria could tell he was considering something - and the fact that it was taking him this much time started to worry her. Why? She wasn’t sure. 

At this distance she was able to get a good look at his face. It was round and scruffy, and strangely complimented by his Roman nose. Even in his current, sullen state his lips still had an upturned curl to them. She’d always liked his lips.

 Her attention was taken away from his face when he spoke, and she smiled at him in response. 

“You’re welcome.” 

Blame it on the alcohol, on their proximity, on the raw vulnerability he’d shown her - but without having time to process her actions, her face closed the distance with his. The kiss was soft, and her lips barely pressed against his own. 

It took only a few seconds for what she had done to register, and when it sunk in, she pulled back. Not all the way, but enough to give him a dazed, almost apologetic look. She hadn’t planned to do that, would have sworn up and down that she would never be kissing Betelgeuse right up until the moment she did. Maria started to sit up a little more and opened her mouth to speak, but had no idea what to say.

The brush of her lips against his was a shock that wasn't dulled by alcohol. 

His hand automatically went up to touch her, to slip to her jaw to keep her close, but the split second that it took for him to try she pulled back again. But the motion was in place; although he missed keeping her where she was, his fingers touched the junction of neck and shoulder. 

There was nothing more important in his existence than tasting her lipstick again. 

Eyes wide, his tongue swiping his bottom lip in a move he didn't give conscious thought to, Beetlejuice breathed out, "Mi hermosa emperatriz Maria . . ." 

With a little additional pressure from his hand he encouraged her back towards him as he surged up to her.

tbc . . .

[wokestraightpuffy]

Hallo, i hope you are alright and that my ask aren’t annoying but I wanted to ask do you have any c!puffy headcannons? —🤡

YOURE NOT ANNOYING AT ALL !!! NEVER THINK THAT ILU VERY MUCH. MUAH /p

as for c!puffy headcanons, i am not the best person to ever organize their thoughts properly but ill try my best >:’D

ahaha. this got. super complex and way too long and more of like an introspective study to puffy now instead of harmless fun headcanons so, uh. under read more <3 (also reminder this is all /rp and /dsmp)

* i like to think that she has a hero complex, but its a bit different since she never really sees herself as an ‘important’ part of the story, not the main character but a support one, hence ‘im fine with being the side character’ or how she’s said she doesnt care what happens to her and would gladly sacrifice(?) herself if there werent other people she had to protect. girl u need therapy urself <3

* though very open with how she feels and never afraid to say when someone/something is upsetting her, ‘opening up’ is still a whole mountain climb for her, apparently. like, she’d rant about the egg, get mad at the eggpire, let off some steam by committing arson or exploding stuff, she’ll rarely ever talk about how much the stuff that upset her actually HURT her. does that make sense? LIKE, she’ll lash out, she’ll get mad, she’ll take NO SHIT thrown at her face, but to show the kinda vulnerability of dealing with that? to cry about it talk about those feelings with someone? I think she’d rather eat her own foot lol

* adding onto the thing above, she doesnt necessarily actually realize this about herself. less of actively doing it and rather growing... used to the ‘cycle of violence’ in the smp as they call it. and the fact that rarely have people really asked, that no one’s actually available for that, w her losing her closest friends, bad and ant, sam being busy w the warden stuff... and niki. yeah. there’s foolish, but i doubt she’d ever see venting to someone she considers her son appealing

* also. puffy is just sometimes... really bad at conveying sadness. i think she’s a rare crier. id go as far to say that shes even more emotionally constipated than dream, lol (but maybe not while the guy’s in his prison arc) and that she’d be the type of person to tell you its okay to cry but beat herself up over something if she let a tear slip in a heated moment

* speaking of sadness. she’ll only ever actually Be Sad if she’s alone or with someone she doesnt necessarily care the opinions of. yknow how she mourned for tommy and blamed herself? those dialogue bits? yeah, those are only times shed actually be vulnerable

* puffy’s go to response to the egg and how its fucked up her relationship w her friends is pure fury. but, going off of her line about ‘failing bad and ant’ i like to think that she probably hates herself the most about it. THAT IS A STRONG WORD LOL BUT YEAH. she yells and curses and gets mad, but sometimes i wonder if the words she had spat before were more directed to herself

* THIS GIRL HAS SELF-IDENTITY PROBLEMS. CAN WE GET A HELL YEAH FOR THAT CHAT? outside of having no goddamn clue about where she came from, how she got here and who she even is, scrounging up a role for herself in a server with a war on the background and traumatized kids got her resignedly coerced into thinking that she is only a Parent. Only good enough when she’s actually doing something Useful for people. SO. when she finds that ship? of having a crew and having a curse? OF FINDING OUT SHE MIGHT HAVE/ HAVE HAD A MOM THATS WAITING FOR HER?  the sense of control she has on herself is absolutely crushed. shattered, and she’s left to pick up the pieces w no one to talk abt it with <3

* adding onto the above, it’s why the line ‘I’m supposed to be mama puffy. me.’ hurts me so much! so yes! please cry with me :D

* also to add more on the fact that she thinks she’s only worth something when she’s being useful, puffy literally contemplated leaving the server, thinking that it wouldnt matter leaving since no one really needs her anyway, since she’s failed so many people. bad and ant, tommy, dream. shes said how foolish can take care of himself on how tubbo and ranboo have each other, how she and niki have drifted so far away from each that it might as well be a break up.

HOOOOOOOOOO OBOY . anon youve really given me the perfect chance to ramble huh? sorry for the rather incomprehensible brainrot, here’s more lighthearted headcanons about puffy asdhfkd

* she cannot stand still sometimes. she always has to be doing something extra, walking when the prime path is right there? shed rather go through tedious little holes or hop and balance onto fences to get where shes going. she’ll mindlessly fix up the path when there are holes or mismatched wood, and one time went on a long, long LONG journey cleaning up the paths tommy purposely DESTROYED near lmanburg and even added cobblestone sidings which werent there before

* puffys a bit of a sentimental person. writing in her log to clear her thoughts sometimes and cared enough to try and preserve lmanburg with the glass sheet and trying to find possible surviving artifacts of history to respect it, even though she’s never been a part of it. its also why, when doomsday happened and lmanburg got permanently poofed, she began to appreciate the buildings that are still standing and began taking more pics 

* she’s not used to being... what do you call it, um, cared for? she’d deflect compliments sometimes, when shes having a particular bad day, like, she’d laugh nervously and change the subject, sometimes she’d outright deny it, most days she’d jokingly say ‘staphhh it’ and add a very genuine thanks. my point being is, do something for puffy that is mildly nice and she’d keep that moment in her heart forever. 

* also funny story regarding the above. u know how karl is notorious for stealing her materials? and how puffy was contemplating doing something in retaliation for them? karl says hi for once when she joins the server and she goes ‘alright fine youre safe for saying hi’ LOL THIS WAS PROBABLY A BIT META WISE but something about this implying that the bare minimum or LESS is enough to make puffy forgive someone is very sad and funny at the same time for me. girl really said ‘oh you said hi to me? thats nice all the crimes youve ever done towards me is now forgiven. <3’ (this is a bit of an exaggeration on my part, ofc, i just think its funny LMAO) 

* ironically, despite being the ‘captain’, whenever riding a boat with someone, she prefers being on the backseat and letting them drive. ig shes just there for the ride i suppose, her and her uber drivers :3

 * she either has a rather unhealthy obsession with baked potatoes or she just doesnt wanna waste eret’s massive potato farm

* idc what cc!puffy says is c!puffy will always and forever be 5′2″ in my HEART. u are the shortest member, u cannot change this <3

* shes really fond of animals/ neutral mobs. she often baby talks to them and they help boost her mood a lot when shes having a bad day :D

* up to this day, the little secret rooms she’s created around the server have all been yet to be discovered, unless the one under bad’s house has been found. she rarely ever really keeps tabs on them, and more often than not they are just collecting dust. she still visits sometimes and cleans them up ofc

* she still genuinely thinks dream can change. cc!puffy’s line about that, ‘i’m his last hope.’ really makes me think about this a lot. 

* ive seen people talk abt it a bit but the headcanon that puffy acts as the server mom to fill the ‘void’ of her missing her mom makes me cry at night /hj

* she really likes her rainbow onesie! i headcanon that eret gave her that along w the sunglasses, but she started wearing that less when she found her old captains uniform. shes never really said why, though, and nobody ever really bothered to ask

* god bless this woman but sometimes the server members get on her nerves sometimes so she goes out of her way to traverse along far away from the main community to maybe commit a few crimes. let off some steam. these take a few days but she always returns

i probably have a lot more hcs but i cant remember them >_> THIS IS A LOT ANYWAY. HOPE U ENJOYED MY BRAIN VOMIT. IF U READ THIS FAR ILU THANK U

if there are mistakes it is bc i am crying and cannot see my keyboard and also i am sleep deprived /hj

[harry-writings]

The Edge of Tonight

- The one where Y/n reaches her breaking point and ruins Harry’s special night

TW: drug use of a family member, mentions of overdose 

Masterlist

-

Tonight is really important.

Harry has a mandatory meeting that addresses his next leading role in an upcoming action film. This is his biggest acting opportunity since his role in Dunkirk—his career only seeming to get better with each audition and he couldn’t wait to discuss the next character he has to take on.

Everyone is there—between his managers, the directors, and all the other actors involved in the making, tonight is a really big deal. Harry hasn’t been this excited since his last movie, and to be honest, he never thought he’d end up being a part of something like this again.

He’s amazed at it all, really. There’s a certain type of hustle he’s already found himself getting comfortable with, despite his overwhelming introverted-ness. The cast and crew—everybody, really—is really welcoming, and to know that this will be his life for the next year gets him even more excited. 

At the main table—where everybody talks individually to get a proper grasp on the characters—he makes rounds with as many people he can; asking questions and getting all the clarification he needs in regards to the film. And even though everything he’s doing is work related, there really isn’t anywhere he’d rather be at the moment.

He’s two hours in—half of his questions still unanswered and the director has yet to discuss the majority of the making. They’re walking to take their seats for the mass presentation—where they go over their film location, get their scripts, all the nitty gritty that comes with being an actor—when Harry’s phone starts to ring. 

Normally, considering the situation that he’s in, he’d ignore the call and wait until his meeting was over to get in contact with whomever was in need to reach him. But as he stares down at the unknown number on his screen, something doesn’t feel right. His stomach tightens and he doesn’t necessarily know why. It’s just a goddamn phone call made at the wrong time.

And he really wants to ignore it—really should ignore it—but he can’t dismiss the mysterious feeling inside of him as it vibrates, for now the second time in his hand.

He sighs, looking around for somewhere much more private. He quickly walks away from where the crowd his heading, finding a secluded section near the bathrooms while he makes sure to answer the call.

He barely has any time to say anything before he hears her.

“Harry, please don’t hate me.”

Y/n’s voice sure as hell was the last thing he expected to hear on the other line as it evidently speaks through tears and worry. To hear her in that way makes his heart drop to the pit of his stomach and his palms sweat against the phone, the thought of the unfamiliar number somehow slipping from his mind as it’s now raided by concern.

He thinks of the worst possible scenario she could be in for her to be calling in such a state. Despite her saying “please don’t hate me” hints at the fact whatever position she is was her fault, he can’t help but to panic at the mere thought that she’s in danger and he’s not close enough to save her in time.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Y/n wishes he didn’t sound so concerned for her because when it comes down to it, she doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt Harry always gives her. Everything that’s happened, the whole reason why she’s here, is because of something she had done. It was necessarily her fault, but it was her stupid decision that brought her into this mess, and she doesn’t want to take advantage of his heart. 

Especially not now, not during one of the most important nights of his career. She can’t take advantage of what he always gives her because he’d never forgive her, no matter how much she really truly needs him right now.

“I’m at the police station I—" She stomps her feet on the ground because she knows what she’s in for now that she confessed her whereabouts. She’s more than upset with herself, too, because she knows that she’s being a burden on a night so detrimental to his career. “I fucked up, Harry. I’m so sorry.“

He really doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t really know if he can react. Neither of them have ever been put in a position like this—he almost thinks this whole thing is a figment of his imagination—his brain trying to bring down his spirits because this role is just too good to be true, just too, too good, and his body can’t handle it.

And there’s just no way. The only thoughts swirling in his brain are what could she possibly have done? What did she do to end up there, all alone, with nobody to help her?

His hand is rubbing against his face harshly, sucking in a deep breath as he tries to wrap his head around the situation. His fingertips press against his closed eyes, trying to fathom the damage she possibly could have done.

“What did you do?”

Even though he was remaining as calm as possible, she can hear the disappointment in his voice. Her eyes squeeze closed as she chokes back a sob, holding the telephone closer to her ear as she tries to come up with something better than “I knocked a girl unconscious while blindingly drunk.”

“Assault.”

The breath is knocked right out of him. How the hell could this have happened? Y/n? Assault? She’s always been such a good person, always doing what’s greatest in her heart and making sure those around her are safe and content at all times. She’s a big believer in treating others the way she wants to be treated, so putting people before her was in her blood—in her nature —like she was born for those around her. 

Her wholeheartedness was one of the many reasons Harry fell in love with her. She was just so goddamn easy to fall for and he admired the effortless aspects of her love and fondness. He knows deep in his heart that there must have been a good reason, a really good reason, Y/n would have assaulted somebody—he really does believe that—but he just can’t shake the anger out of him right now.

She knows what this night means to him and his career yet she’s finding her way to ruin it. And if he didn’t love her so much, he would finish off his meeting and make her wait, make her learn her lesson to not be so goddamn careless and stupid, but he just can’t do that. No matter how jaw-clenchingly pissed off he is, she means the most to him and he would never be able to live with himself if he were to keep her in any danger any longer.

He sighs again, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand while his elbow is placed sturdy on the wall beside him. He feels dizzy and his brain is moving much too quickly for him to comprehend any rational thought. There are so many endless possibilities as to what could happen to her—what could happen to them—after this gets resolved.

“I’ll be there soon.”

It takes him nearly five minutes to get his head screwed on straight and muster up the courage to tell the managers that there’s been a family emergency. Although they seem hesitant to believe him, he’s sure they’ll be reading all about Y/n’s arrest on social media if it happens to become public.

And that’s just another thing that’s really getting on his nerves. He’s an extremely private person, always tentative about shining light on his personal life. It took him months to make his relationship with Y/n public, and although she’s done nothing but respect his need of privacy, this entire situation is going to interfere with that. And possibly this new upcoming role.

Everything about tonight makes him more angered than he’s ever been in his life and it’s almost overwhelming him. And God, does he want to put some sense into Y/n, but he can’t even think about being more upset with her than he already is until he knows that she’s okay.

            -

When Harry arrives at the police station, they already had Y/n sitting on a bench near the officer’s room. His eyes instinctually look for any visible scars or damages on her skin, but besides the few bruises on her arms and a busted lip, she doesn’t seem too hurt.

What he really does notice, though, is how tired and out of it she looks. She looks lifeless upon the bench, her eyes refusing to move from the wall in front of her. The color of her skin is paled and her eyes are sunken in with exhaustion. She’s still crying, too, but doesn’t make any attempts to rid the tears falling rapidly down her cheeks.

“Sir, are you here for Y/n Y/l/n?”

His gaze breaks away from her figure to meet with the police officer standing beside him, who’s holding files of papers in his hands with a stern look on his face.

Harry nods quickly, not bothering to clarify much more than he has to. The officer nods in response, pointing his head over to his desk—implying Harry to follow him into the room. He leads him over to the empty chair, making sure to close to the door to prevent any leaked information.

Harry makes himself as comfortable as he possibly can in the circumstances that he’s in. The officer is extremely intimidating and making it hard for him to communicate properly. He just wants to know what the hell is happening so that he can put his worries to rest and bring Y/n home.

The officer is flipping through papers on his desk, not making any move to sit down or reassure Harry in any way. He can physically feel his heart beat harshly in his chest and the sweat surface on his palms.

“And you’re the boyfriend, correct?”

This time, the officer finally looks up to where Harry’s is sitting across from him. He nods tentatively, unsure of really what to do or say. He figures that wordless gestures are enough unless he’s asked for details.

The officer writes something down on paper—perhaps confirming his presence and here to bring Y/n back home. He coughs slightly before finally giving the answers Harry desperately, hopelessly needs.

“Since she’s had no prior criminal record and was under the influence of alcohol, we’re letting her go with a three-month probation. Thankfully, for her, the woman didn’t press any charges. If she doesn’t cause any trouble within the next three months, we’ll drop the record from her name. Got it?”

Although confusion is still buzzing through Harry’s head and there’s still so many questions to ask, he doesn’t say anything in response. Between the gloominess and tension in the small room and all the intimidation flowing through his veins, he’s almost scared to speak out.

The officer doesn’t look very promising, either, even though he hasn’t been harsh on him. It’s all just too much happening at once and he can’t understand it all.

Harry obeys all the officer’s orders in regards to the instructions of Y/n’s probation. It doesn’t take much longer than twenty minutes to get everything clarified, but his legs are shaking impatiently. He really just wants to get out of here.

And when Harry finally walks out of the room, the officer that was standing by Y/n leads her over to him. Her steps are hesitant and slow, almost unsure of her movements. She still hasn’t looked up at him but Harry barely notices—either that, or he doesn’t really care.

He grabs her wrist between his fingers before he practically drags her out the door. He isn’t walking that fast, but Y/n’s still a bit drunk and she can barely see where he’s going through all her tears. It seems as though the world is moving too fast for her to keep up.

         -

The entire car ride is filled with tense air and Harry’s shallow breathing. She knows there is nothing she can say to make the situation any better, but she just wishes he gave her something to work with. She’s never needed anybody the way she needs Harry right now. Ever. 

And when Harry doesn’t talk, that’s when he’s really had it. He doesn’t speak much to begin with, so when he’s silent and refusing to talk things out with her, he’s building himself up—it’s the calm before the storm. Everything he wants to say is being swallowed in his own throat, just waiting to explode all at once.

“H, please say something.”

He grips the steering wheel tighter—so tight that his knuckles turn white and his wrist pulses under the pressure. Not a reaction in him gives her a reason to believe he can even look at her in this moment. She’s unintentionally pushing him over the edge and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to live with herself for it.

“What’d you want me to say? Got nothing to say to you right now.”

She throws her head back on the headrest as a cry spews past her lips. Her feet are kicking at the glove compartment and she really thinks she can break down right then and there. She really fucking needs him to be there for her and tell her everything is going to be okay.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to ruin your meeting because I know how important it was to you, but I swear I—“

“Y/n, please. It’s taking everything in me not to yell at you right now and I don’t want to be so bloody angry that I can’t see the road. So please, that’s enough.”

         -

When they get home, Harry doesn’t open her car door like he usually does, nor does he wait up for her before going inside. She pouts at this, feeling neglected and utterly upset that she’s made him so angry.

But she needs him right now—now more than ever. There is so much more to the story than he knows and she can’t stand the fact that he won’t let her talk about it. She needs his comfort and his love to keep her steady in the midst of all the chaos happening in her life, but she knows that’s the last thing he’ll give to her right now, no matter how much she relies on it.

Her bottom lip trembles as she closes the front door shut, meeting a house full of slamming cabinets and the sound of his rushed footsteps. She tentatively follows the glimmer of light that meets the hallway from their bathroom, slowly opening the door wider as she’s met with a counter full of first aid kits and Harry’s moving body.

“Just because I’m pissed off at you doesn’t mean I don’t care. Sit on the counter, your knuckles and lips are cut.”

She complies silently, hitching herself on the edge of the counter until her bottom legs are dangling and her back is slouched against the mirror. And before she really has time to get comfortable in her position, he’s already grabbing her hand to clean the dried blood off.

There are so many things he wants to say but doesn’t know how, not without sounding like an asshole. He loves her too much to keep her crying the way she has, and loves her too much to make her feel worse about herself than she already does. But really, what the fuck was she thinking?

He sees the regret and guilt in her eyes and it pains him. He knows that it’s partially his fault—why she’s so saddened—but this isn’t something he can forgive her so easily for no matter how much he wishes it was.

He’s at his boiling point and he can feel it—partially mad at Y/n, partially mad at himself. The cotton swab that was once gently patting her cut knuckles is now moving more harshly from his aggressive movements—not enough to hurt her, but enough for her to know that he’s having trouble keeping it all together.

“There better have been a really good reason as to why you’ve done this, Y/n—acting like a proper idiot. Do you have any idea how this makes you look?”

She shrugs, a pout on her face as she refuses to answer. She knows it’s not worth trying because this is his blow and she doesn’t want to push him any further. She’d rather take it as it is now rather than make it worse—something she wouldn’t be able to take.

“You know what this night meant to me and you know this could have been the worst possible time to cause some shit like this! And you were drunk, too! You were proper fucking drunk and alone! You know how you are when you’re drunk, damn sensitive, have no sense! And look where you ended up!”

He slams his fist on the counter next to her legs, the gauze falling from his hand from the impact. He still isn’t looking at her—hasn’t once looked at her since they’ve left the station—and it breaks her heart in two. 

It hurts so bad, for him to be right in arms reach and not being able to hug him and kiss him and tell him just how sorry she really is. 

His shoulders are tightened, jaw clenched, face nearly red, and fingers in fists from all the anger. And Y/n begins to cry.

“I had to sacrifice my time, my future, my career because of your fucking irresponsibility! This isn’t even goddamn like you, Y/n! And if the media finds out, guess whose ass is on the line! Mine! It will all turn shit for me and my possibility for making a life for us all because you decided to physically assault somebody!”

Y/n’s head is hung low at the point, not having the strength to look at him the way he is now. She never wants to see him this frustrated with her—because of her—and it just makes her feel worse than she already did.

And normally she would still listen to his lectures, only because she really deserves it and doesn’t find it in her heart to turn anything around on him, but she has to say it. No matter how embarrassing it’ll make her look—no matter how bad it’ll make her look—she needs to tell him.

If she doesn’t, he might not ever forgive her.

“My mum overdosed.”

It’s almost a silent confession, spoken so inaudibly Harry almost doesn’t hear it underneath all his rage. It doesn’t make any sense, and he almost thinks he misunderstood her somewhere because it just doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

“What?”

She sighs, lifting her head but still not having the courage to look at him. She lays the back of her head against the mirror, tears falling silently from her eyes as she stares emotionless at the wall beside him.

He’s already calmed down some and is now staring at her in confusion. He’s not even entirely sure what she just said and his patience is wearing thin when she takes a couple of moments to fully explain herself.

“I got drunk because my mum overdosed. She’s been like this for too long—you know, being addicted. It was only a matter of time before it got to that point, where too much wasn’t enough. That’s why I never had you meet her— because I never wanted you to look at me differently or look at me like there’s something so terribly wrong with me.”

Harry’s hands are running delicately up and down her legs, listening intently to her words. There’s a furrow between his brows as he takes everything in, allowing himself to process everything she’s saying before he finds the right words to say back to her.

“And I know, getting drunk wasn’t the answer, but it wasn’t the problem, either. Some girls from my high school had found out—I guess maybe from their friends or parents? I’m not so sure. They’ve made my life miserable for as long as I could remember and this was their perfect opportunity to make a fool out of me. You know, ‘look at the drug addict’s daughter’ and ‘maybe this explains why you’re so fucked up.’”

Harry instinctively reaches his hand out to her tearful cheeks, cupping the skin between his fingers as if to reassure her that he’s there for her. His own eyes are overflowing with tears and he swallows the lump in his throat harshly.

“Oh, baby.” He whimpers.

She really could have stopped there—he didn’t need any further explanation for what she’s done. He’s already forgiven her and is more than ready to console her and be there for her for as long as she needs. But she needs to keep going, he knows that. He sees the words fighting past her lips and he’s not going to keep her thoughts unspoken.

“They started insulting my family, insulting my mum, insulting me and they just kept going. They just wouldn’t stop, and people around us were looking and I was so embarrassed and so upset, Harry. I just needed one last push until I cracked, and that’s when they mentioned you. Saying how you don’t deserve a mistake like me—saying that I must be fucking up your life the way my mum fucked up mine.”

She purses her trembling lips tightly and squeezes her eyes shut, trying so desperately to control the sobs that dare leave her mouth that her wobbling chin meets her chest. Now that she’s started, there’s no way for her to stop, but she doesn’t know if her body can take it.

Harry slowly drifts his hand to the back of her head, slightly digging his fingertips into her scalp and rubbing in soft circles. He’s never seen her this horrible and he’ll do anything he can to make it stop. His heart is hurting for her, his chest is burning with guilt, and his eyes are tearing with sympathy and he never wants to let her go. No, not tonight.

“And I didn’t need that, Harry. I didn’t need to hear that because my biggest fear is becoming what my mother is. I love her so much—I love her so fucking much even though I shouldn’t because she picked her addiction over me! I’ve always been neglected! She never loved me like I loved her and I never want to do that to you, Harry! I never want to do that to you.”

She punches at his chest almost passionately, to show him how much she really means it, because he might not ever trust her now. 

But Harry scoops her up in his arms, keeping her as close as possible as she drowns herself in her hysteria. Her hands are shaking against his chest, lips pressed against the crook of his neck, and legs wrapped around his waist as he shushes her in an attempt to calm her down.

His lips pepper chaste kisses against her skin, an endearing reminder that he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

He buries his head in her hair and cradles her into his chest, his hands running feverishly all over her back. She doesn’t deserve anything that’s been given to her tonight—including everything he’s said—and she doesn’t deserve all the pain and worries she’s been going through.

Hell, she doesn’t deserve any bit of this and he wants to fix it now—has to fix it now.

Because how could he have missed it? How could he have been such a shit boyfriend to not take notice in Y/n’s toxic relationship with her mother? How had he never asked questions? How had he failed to be there for her for so long?

“Baby, baby, look at me. Look at me.”

He’s cupping his hands over her cheeks to ensure that her eyes meet his. And when they do, his heart breaks at just how spent she looks. The light in her eyes has burnt to a crisp and it seems as though there’s nothing left in her.

And despite how devastating it is, he still looks at her in the most loving way. It almost makes Y/n smile, but instead of the tug on her lips to do so, she feels the tug in her heart.

“You’re never going to do that to me, you understand? I know you more than anybody and I know how much you love me. It’s in everything you do, and even if you didn’t love me, you are not your mum. You’re so much stronger than you think you are and I am not letting you live your life in constant fear of turning into somebody you’re not. I’m not letting you do that, not when I’m here with you.”

She lets out a whimper, and despite the evident pout on her lips, she nods in understanding.

“Don’t deserve this, not one bit.”

His thumbs are rubbing against her cheeks while he presses a passionate kiss on her lips, and something about the common gesture is enough to settle the constant fear in her thoughts. And when his lips move to settle on her forehead and his hands tuck her into his chest, the weight in her chest seems to disappear.

By now, all her tears have been shed and all she’s left with are heavy eyes and a nearly boneless body. This day has consisted of almost too much chaos and she needs to end.

She hums softly, slowly moving to kiss his neck before resting her chin on top of his shoulder, closing her eyes at the sound of his breathing.

“I love you so much, H. Can you take me to bed? Need you.”

Her fingers tug at the collar of his shirt and he laughs softly at the gesture. It’s one of the sweetest things she’s ever done, and it’s in that moment he questions how he’s gotten so damn lucky.

She truly is the sweetest girl he’s ever known, and really is the most beautiful sight to see. And she’s all his. No matter what she does to make him angry, or what shit is going on in her life, she’s his greatest blessing and he’ll do whatever he can to protect her.

Not just for tonight, but for every night for the rest of their lives.

[rosethornewrites]

Fics I read this week

Some of these may have been read earlier than a week ago, but I tried to keep it contained. Not sure I’ll keep this up, but I’ll try.

Finished:

Rated E:

the origin of change, by kissteethstainred, rated E

Lan Xichen said, “Time for regrowth and mourning is, of course, the most important. But there has also been a—frequent—discussion of marriage.” He paused to drink more tea. He almost seemed apologetic when he added, “Your name has been brought up often.”

“For marriage,” Lan Wangji repeated.

Except with Wei Ying in the picture, nothing goes exactly as planned.

Opportunity, by brooklinegirl, rated E

Lan Zhan is jostled slightly and he turns in his seat to see a harried-looking man squeezing in next to him. There isn't an empty seat there, and the bar is quite crowded. "Sorry," the man says, sounding out of breath. "I know I'm all up in your business, I'll move, I promise, I just—" He blows his breath out. "I'm going to lose this seat next to you, that dude over there has been eyeing it, and it's mine as soon as this guy leaves.”

Rated M:

Oxymoron, by feline_somnambulist, rated M

Jiang Yanli was in the kitchen. She hummed softly along to music being played somewhere else in the house, as she shuffled carefully back and forth from the prep table to the giant vat of soup. The house smelled like pork rib and savory broth. As always, she was beautiful in her element, a goddess of her domain despite the limp and the leg brace.

Her phone rang just as Jiang Cheng entered the kitchen. She saw him and smiled as she made her careful way to the phone on the wall-mounted charging station.

Jiang Cheng put the stack of paperwork down on a counter. He got to the phone first, picked it up. It was Lan Wangji’s number. He rejected the call and put the phone in his pocket.

“A-Cheng? Is everything okay?” Jiang Yanli asked, a frown creasing her brow. “Who was that?”

It Ends With the Beginning, by feline_somnambulist, rated M

They fight. They part. Jiang Cheng is hurt. Wei Wuxian comes to help. Wei Wuxian runs. Jiang Cheng is tired of chasing. They fight.

Until The End, by abCEE, rated M

"When I -- when I tied my ribbon around our wrists, I knew what I was doing and I privately honored it." Wei Wuxian's brows continued to meet as he tried to understand where the conversation was going until realization dawned on him. "Wa -- wait! Lan Zhan, is it what I think it is?!!" "It is usually done at the end of a wedding ceremony --" "What-" "But it could have been acknowledged as an engagement." "Lan Zhan!" He cannot believe what he is hearing now. "But my ancestor revealed herself --" "And we bowed… three times. We bowed, Lan Zhan!"

In which wangxian are married since the Cold Pond Cave incident, knows how proper communication works, and had confessed in the middle of the Sunshot Campaign. Things went spiraling up and down from there.

Rated T:

as it should be, by Sienne, rated T

Post-canon Lan Qiren time travels to before the Cloud Recesses lectures. The Cloud Recesses are quiet and peaceful, something his home hasn't been in years. ...In fact, it is too quiet and peaceful.

Judgment Day, by Grace_Logan, rated T

Cornered Wei Wuxian sees only one way out after cluing in on the Jin's plan.

Welcome To Gusu, by perkynurples, rated T

Deep in the lush forests of Gusu hides an aging resort that hosts dozens of children every summer for an unforgettable couple of weeks. It’s where Lan Wangji grew up alongside Wei Wuxian, and when his childhood friend (for the lack of a better term) surprisingly returns years later in the position of Senior Counsellor, seemingly hell bent on causing the same kind of mischief that got him kicked out of Gusu in the first place, but also taller, broader and tanner than ever before, Lan Wangji knows he’s In Trouble. Or, this fic has it all: longing looks over campfires, found family dynamics, ill-timed skinny dipping, teenagers inappropriately shipping their counsellors, camp weddings...

Therapy is a Performative Act, by cinder1013, rated T

“What does your dad think of your comedy?”

“Oh, he hates it, but it pays the bills and I need it to pay for my goddamn fuckin’ therapy.”

Jiang Cheng stumbles into being a stand-up comic and his favorite topic is dear ol’ dad.

sorry, i love you, by moon_thief, rated T

lan wangji was practically seething as he watched it happen. what kind of person could be so careless, unruly, undisciplined-

and then their eyes met.

oh. oh.

Tremble a Prayer, by cqlorphan, rated T

They kiss, and Lan Wangji regulates himself. There are no tears pricking at his eyes. There is no lump in his throat. His hands are undressing Wei Ying, and then Wei Ying’s hands are on his hands.

“What is it?” Wei Ying says, between kisses.

Even with Wei Ying back, Lan Wangji's sadness overwhelms him at times. He tries, and fails, to keep it from him.

The Quiet Work, by ShipsAreLaunching, rated T

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian get a summons for help from a minor clan in Gusu. When they go to investigate they find a horrible truth, and do what they do best.

Rated G:

Ink Stains Not So Ignored, by Preludian_Staves, rated G

Qiren found something that he still couldn't bring himself to ignore about his youngest nephew's husband.

I’d buy a big house where we both could live, by failed2be_chill, rated G

“Ah, so you want to play with the rabbits and enjoy their soft fur and silly little nose twitches while your poor husband toils in the heat of the day with hammer and nail doing exhausting manual labour. I see how it is. It’s a good job I love you, huh?” Wei Wuxian kisses his husband’s soft cheek.

“Mn, very good.”

---

Or, married WangXian embrace the practical and symbolic joys of home ownership. Domestic bliss.

Family, by Speechless_since_1998, rated G

Jiang Cheng blinked as his brother while he played with the baby he was holding.

He hoped he had misunderstood, but he had proof that it was true right in front of him.

So he did the only sensible thing that came to mind, "Wei Ying, what the fuck ?! '

"A-Cheng, language!" Shijie scolded him with a stern look.

"A-Jie, you can't really accept such a thing!"

"Why not? He is so cute!" she said, making funny faces at the child, totally in love with him.

Was it possible that he was the only one with a bit of mental sanity left?

A Lonely Guqin (No More), by Asphodel_Meadow, rated G

Wei Wuxian is the first person who makes Lan Wangji want to have a duet.

piercing, by escapingaugust, rated G (read the tags)

Stolen Midnights, by hinotoriii, rated G

There are nights where sleep eludes Wei Wuxian. Where the demons of his past are too loud in his mind, reminding him of that which he could never forget, second life or not.

Unfinished:

Not Rated:

Disclosed Regrets, by zLanWuxian, Not Rated

The majority of the cultivation world are pulled into a room that suspiciously resembled the burial mounds. (Their golden cores were sealed too. As to why, nobody knew.)

They are invited to watch Wei Wuxian's life.

What will they do when they find out everything they believed was a lie?

(Or: The characters of Mo Dao Zu Shi watch Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Rated E:

Where You Fell, by Sweet_William, rated E

Years ago, Lan Wangji was a Senior in high school, readying himself for graduation and the coming years studying at the Gusu Lan Institute of Music. Everything in his life made sense, from his role in his family, to a future as a classical musician. The only thing that didn’t fit was the sudden epiphanies he had about himself brought on by his bothersome and flirtatious classmate, Wei Wuxian. When the growing attraction and friendship was cut short by the other boy’s disappearance, he mourned what could have been, but ultimately had to move on. What he didn’t know was that fate would bring them back together again one day, or the reality of how far apart two lives can diverge, how some can find peace and prosperity, while others can fall farther than he ever imagined.

A Narrow Bridge, by FrameofMind and Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle), rated E

Once, Lan Wangji made a choice to step aside. Ten years after Wei Ying’s death, he finds a way back to choose again.

Setting fire to our insides, by StarsAlignNomore, rated E

Lan Wangji dies after the thirty-third strike. Lan Xichen does not handle it well.

*fleabag voice* This is a fix it.

Rated M:

Live Again, Love Anew, by kkanime5555, rated M

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian finally speaks up.

“Mn.” Lan Zhan hums to show he’s listening.

“I think we traveled back in time.”

...

“I’ll go, Lan Zhan. I’ll come to Gusu with you.”

-----

Or,

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are soulmates and, upon Wei Ying's death, they are sent back to when they first met as kids on the streets of Yiling. From there, they both are taken to Gusu, where they are raised together, gradually learning of their shared feelings and finding out the mystery of who sent them back in time and why, all while planning how to save the world, preferably with all their loved ones left alive.

A Torn Red Ribbon, by shiroakuma, rated M

The night before they marched into the Nightless City, Lan Wangji was invited to join Wei Wuxian in his tent.

Unbeknownst to him at that time, it became their last real conversation.

In which, a resounding victory against the QishanWen Sect is won seemingly at the cost of Wei Wuxian's life. Lan Wangji still spends some time being heavily injured. Lan Xichen tries to pick the pieces left behind by the war. The Jiang Sect is renowned thanks to the revered Wei Wuxian and the cultivation world is plagued by unknown forces while Lan Wangji meets with Wei Wuxian in his dreams.

Sacrifices Made with Blood, by NocturnalFriend, rated M

Lan Wangji knew it was too late, there was too much blood on Wei Ying's hands already. Still, if he asked his brother for help, surely. There was a way to rescue the man who held his heart?

Or: Trust is not easily given and all to easily shattered. Lan Wangji learns this in the worst way, when Lan Xichen gives into the demands of the cultivation world. Although nobody could have predicted the whims of fate, giving them another chance at righting things.

What makes you sing?, by Fictio, rated M

Madam Yu was never known for her matchmaking skills but she was known for her inherent meddling. Though it still came as a surprise, when on one fine Saturday afternoon, she called Wei Ying and set him up for a blind date.

There She Rose, by Aiiiru, rated M

Many years had passed yet whispers and gossips about YiLing Matriarch still stayed alive like unruly weeds refusing to die.

"That damn Wei Wuxian must have cursed this year's harvest with 'unkillable' locusts" "But Wei Wuxian had died right?" "Didn't you know that her body wasn't found?" "I heard some cultivators saying that during the chaos, some people saw her leaving in a sword, flying away with someone else." "That must be the demon with whom she signed a contract, a female challenging three thousand or was it five thousand cultivators by herself? Hah!! She definitely has ties with evil creatures and ghosts." "I heard from my cousin in Yunmeng that YiLing Matriarch was born shameless." "Some say she was a male but took female form to seduce the ghosts of burial mounds and gain power by starting demonic cultivation" "Shhh! Don't talk so loudly! My cousin knew a man who loudly gossiped about Yilling Matriarch only to be cursed to death the next day"

Visitations, by Vir_Abelasan, rated M

"Wei Ying-" Lan Zhan says, stutters, "I'm sorry."

And now Wei Wuxian sees it, the red rimming Lan Zhan's eyes, the rumpled edges of his blazer. There is an old, familiar urge for him to reach over, to hold Lan Zhan's hand and smooth his hair, to tell him that everything will be fine.

"We're all a bit sorry about this, I think," he says instead, and finds that he means it. For Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji and everyone else in that Guanyin temple, the pain must be unbearably fresh, like skin just flayed open. But Wei Wuxian's chest had been cracked open a long time ago, his wounds licked and cauterized and sewn shut over five long years - Ever hurting, but a dull, constant ache, "It's really alright, Lan Zhan."

Five years after being accused of corporate espionage and losing everything, the Guanyin Scandal breaks open and Wei Wuxian finds a familiar face at his door.

Kiss My Wounds, Bless My Scars, by Pegunicent, rated M

When he is sixteen, Lan Wangji makes a choice. He becomes Wei Ying's bride.

Rated T:

the one where Jiang Yanli visits (and she's a fucking goddess), by ShippersList, rated T (part 4 of a series)

Wei Wuxian’s sister was a fucking goddess so it was a travesty she wasn’t being fucked like a goddess deserved.

Luo Qingyang decided to do something about it.

(Also, family feels and some plotting but that's beside the point.)

obscured in the shade of the willow, bathed in the light of the moon, by cloud_wanderer, rated T

Wei Wuxian leaves the Burial Mounds for the first time to attend his martial brother's wedding, and everything changes from there. (a.k.a. a universe in which Nie Huaisang schemes to thwart Jin Guangshan's plans and ends up saving Wei Wuxian and the Wens in the process)

Wei Wuxian meets Xiao Xingchen and helps found a sect in Yiling.

Inchoate, by Marinelifeclub, rated T

“Where would you even go once you left? Wait a few more years before leaving." persuaded Jiang Fengmian,

“Will I live to see that long?” Wei Wuxian whispered under his breath.

Jiang Fengmian felt cold at those words. He always thought his children would be the ones to heal the scars left by their mother on Wei Wuxian, but just the concise way he spoke about them, he knows that wasn’t true. Now his best friend’s son sat in front of him, confessing to not thinking he will live to see himself become a man. Cangse and Changze must be furious in their graves as the sweet smiling son they raised endured pain because of a jealous woman and a cowardly man. Sighing, he did the only thing he could to make things right and accepted the boy’s wishes.

At age 14, Wei Wuxian left Lotus Pier and never looked back.

Wei Wuxian leaves Lotus Pier and while things change something’s are just set in fate.

Here We Go Again, by Alliandra, rated T

He looked over to where the swordswoman was still fighting, but her focus seemed entirely locked onto that fight so it was unlikely that she could have had anything to do with the energy drain. He was still wracking his brain for something else to do to assist, so this thing didn’t kill them both, but now he was feeling weak, dizzy and currently not far from helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been several months since the events at the Guanyin temple and Wei Wuxian is wandering around on his own. After he helps a stranger kill a very dangerous beast he uncovers what seems to be a conspiracy aimed at ending his life. He heads back to Cloud Recesses with his new companion in tow, looking to get Lan Wanji's help in working out what is involved.

Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling made a surprising discovery under Koi Tower that may well be linked to the threat against Wei Wuxian's life.

Can they all work together to find out what is going on and put a stop to it, before something disastrous occurs?

Nie Huaisang's Ten Steps to Fix The Fucked Up Reality, by cosmic_zephyr (ProudHaikyuuTrash)

1. Find the time travel array in the Nie library 2. Convince (manipulate) Wei Wuxian to use demonic cultivation to activate the array. 3. Transmigrate to the body of your 15-year-old selves with Wei Wuxian and Survive his wrath. 4. Come up with yet another exaggerated, slightly concerning, plan to save Lotus Pier, Dafan Wens and your brother. 5. Use Empathy to make the Wen siblings side with you in the mess that is soon to come. 6. Kill the main Wen family and make Wen Qing the new leader of Qishan Wen so innocent people are not killed. 7. Annoy the hell out of Lanling Jin just for funsies and also a political statement because Jin Guangshan can suck it. 8 Preferably, just for your own sanity, find a way to kill Jin Guangshan and Jin Guangyao. 9. Work with Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing to solve the sabre problem of the Nie clan. 10. Live a happy life with your brother alive and the cultivation world not being the huge fucked up mess in your own time-line. P.S. Matchmake the pining pile of disaster and gay aka Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

Aka canon divergence where Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian (and Lan Wangji) travel back in time and save the cultivation world.

Deal, by Rahar_Moonfire, rated T

Nie Huaisang wants revenge for his brother. He also wants his friend Wei Wuxian back. Lan Wangji left the Cultivation World after Wei Wuxian's death and hasn't been heard from since. It's a good thing Nie Huaisang has spies everywhere. He has everything he needs to put his plan into motion: the notes, the instructions, the "willing body," and the patience to pull it all off.

Now he just needs to be sure Wei Wuxian survives long enough to pick up Nie Huaisang's bread crumbs, solve the puzzle, and shatter the Cultivation World again. The only person suitable for that job is Black Jade of Yiling, the husband of the infamous Yiling Patriarch, Lan Wangji.

Rated G:

Hadn't gone as I planned, by hamlets_ghost, rated G (part of a series)

Lan Xichen leaves the Cloud Recesses with Wei Wuxian and Wangji to meet his mother.

He cannot stay.

[continuation of 'Hold on to your heart']

[wisteria-lodge]

lion primary + slightly burnt lion secondary (badger secondary model) (bird secondary model)

i hope you’re having an amazing day!! here’s my SHC dilemma:

i know my primary is lion, and it feels a little exploded, at that, but at least i know what’s up. but im still extremely confused about my secondary. i tried looking through other submissions, but i didn’t really find anything i vibed with 100%, but then again i have adhd and im really struggling going through all that text, it just kinda blurs together at some point

so, my secondary. taking the test, i always get burnt, often with a vague hint towards bird. at first i immediately adopted that and decided i was a burnt bird, but the more i go the less that feels right to me and i think it might be some sort of model.

Yeah. “doesn’t feel right.” Definitely see the Lion in your sorting.

working by elimination, im pretty certain im not a snake secondary. that ish doesn’t even sound real to me, i know there are people like this because i know a couple, but it’s just so weird to me that some people are just able to improvise so effectively, and seemingly change themselves like that, and they?? enjoy it?? it does sound dope, like i admire it, but wtf. 

Lion secondaries can get very *does not compute* when trying to get their head around Snake secondaries. I’m considering Lion for you. 

i do act differently in different situations or with different people, but i don’t think i have “personas” as much as degrees of awkwardness 

I see the burnt secondary. You’re definitely talking yourself down here. But the way you talk about “degrees of awkwardness” does make me think about the way Lion secondaries “change faces” by modulating intensity. 

depending on how much my anxiety is acting up, and the more anxious i am, the more i act like a doormat and revert to the proper manners i was taught, but like… that’s not me, and it’s not done on purpose, i don’t enjoy it. 

Looks like somebody’s got an unhealthy Badger secondary model.

it feels gross not to be able to act like myself, whatever the hell that is.

And you didn’t vibe with the Lion descriptions? This is the first time I’m reading though this and… very interested to get to the part where you talk about why you think you’re not a Lion. 

im also convinced im not a bagder - my mother is, and there are a lot of those in my community, so i was raised thinking that was the best way to be, an ideal to work towards, but it’s just not comfortable for me, i don’t wanna do it.

Yeah, this would that  unhealthy Badger secondary model you were talking about. ^

i don’t even think i *can* do it. i mean, “showing up and doing the work” is pretty hard with adhd, and not even the most efficient way of getting stuff done (at least for me), and thinking of the group and what i can do in that group is annoying. also i get that asking for help is important sometimes but it still feels like that’s just admitting i can’t figure out how to do it myself, which, yikes (don’t come at me i know it’s unhealthy)

Hey, breathe. It’s okay. Nobody is going to make you be a Badger secondary. Clearly you’ve spent enough time struggling under the weight of a model that doesn’t suit you, and now you’re pushing back against everything Badger extra hard. 

id rather find a group im a good fit for instead of molding myself to please others. 

See, that’s an exaggerated, caricatured way of conceptualizing how a Badger secondary works… but I’m not surprised that you think about it that way.

whatever i do, it needs to come from me.

… you’ve got a very loud Lion secondary. 

anyway im somewhere between lion and bird, and at first i thought i was a bird because i do in fact fricking love learning everything i can, i wouldn’t naturally call it “collecting”, i’m just doing whatever’s interesting in the moment

You mean you learn by improvising? :) Like a Lion? :) 

but sure, why not - i like collecting languages, knowledge about different cultures, books, music, space, countries, medicine, anything and everything, and i sometimes spend hours researching random stuff that im never actually gonna use “just in case im stranded in the wilderness and need to make soap” you feel? but it’s not actually because i think it might be useful (though i do get random bouts of anxiety over not knowing how to do certain stuff “in case” even though the probability id need them is infinitesimal).

Loving knowledge does not make you a Bird secondary. I’m hearing you talk about about a thing you do for fun, and - this is key - a thing you use as  a mechanism to cope with anxiety. ADHD can sometimes make you feel very scattered, going too fast, and your Bird is giving you [the illusion of] control. And I’m not going to knock that. The illusion of control is important. 

i just like knowing things and being able to use those things to do stuff. i wanna be “that guy” you can come to with the most obscure problem and they’d have some way of dealing with it. doesn’t that sound pretty bird?

Okay. Here’s the deal. You like Bird secondaries. You think they’re cool, and badass. Maybe you’d like to be one. But I’m still not at all convinced you are. I haven’t heard you use it to solve problems. 

but i can’t actually do that stuff. i think i used to, when i was a teenager? but depression and undiagnosed adhd kinda kicked my ass, among a few other things, and now i don’t really have the brain power for it and i feel like im not actually able to learn things as well, or to even think straight.

Wow. That is some burnt secondary talk. I can’t do things. 

(I promise you, people with ADHD have absurd brain power, and can learn things crazy well, although not in the same way as neurotypicals. You are right about not thinking straight, which I am interpreting as “in a straight line.” ADHD people think in webs and corkscrews and I love it.) 

 or if i did, i can’t learn as *many* things as i need to feel accomplished? which idk what you think but it kinda just sounds like burnt bird to me. 

Feeling like the secondary you have isn’t good enough can be a Burnt thing... but feeling like you need to manifest a specific secondary *more* (which is what this feels like) is usually a sign of a model. 

but here’s the thing. all of those sound real nice. and cool. and a good way of doing things, maybe even the “right” way, even though i know that’s subjective. but lion just feels more comfy, and idk if that’s because im a burnt bird modeling lion or if it’s smth else.

… you mean… like being… a Lion?

cause the “collecting skills and knowledge to solve problems” thing sounds cool, but it’s actually more just the first part that i vibe with? the part where i get to learn stuff! but when actually solving problems, i don’t usually think too long, i just vibe. i see where my instinct is taking me and i apply reason *after* that, or like, as a secondary, support thing. im not a dumbass either, im good at puzzles and logic problems, i can totally think things through and use my skills! but that’s not really how i approach problem-solving. i just jump into the situation and see what part of it is closest and start there, or what’s convenient, or what just feels right or nicer or whatever.

This is a perfect description of a Lion secondary with a supportive Bird model. Like a LOT of neurodivergent people (hi!) you built yourself some scaffolding using the Bird toolbox.

and on one hand it could be that im not confident in my skillset enough to do things the bird way, but on the other hand, thinking back to my childhood and teenage years, when i had better executive skills and i wasn’t as completely scatterbrained as i am I now (i was, but not as bad in some ways), i still did this? like, all of my major life decisions where made on the spot based on instinct and nothing else

I’m definitely seeing the Lion primary come though as well. 

whenever i have a problem of the interpersonal sort i just face it and talk to the person and don’t bother hiding or sugarcoating things even if it means hurting that person because i don’t want to lie or come off as something i’m not, when i need to work on a project i don’t bother planning, i just jump in and a strategy forms in an organic way as i go, you know what i mean? isn’t that what this “charging” business means?

Yes.

anyway i have no idea which one is a model and which one is actually mine. i love learning things but i don’t care about actually using them. i mean i like it, of course, but it’s whatever. planning is tedious and it kinda gives me validation because im meant to be “smart” and i guess planning is what smart people do, but it’s annoying and nothing ever goes exactly to plan anyway so you just have to pause and plan again or whatever, and that’s just so boring and frustrating??

I get that you like Bird secondaries, and I get that the picture of “smart person” in your head looks like a Bird secondary but just like… come on…

why not just do the damn thing?? and then what you have to do will be obvious anyway?? and sure, if you planned ahead, maybe you’d already know what you need to do and you’d have prepared it and you’d do it better, but who’s got the time for that?? i can’t use my brain like that! i need to live the thing before it actually feels real enough for me to think about solving it.

I have never read anything more Lion secondary in my entire goddamn life.

i hope this actually made sense and i gave enough relevant information, my head kinda feels jumbled right now. i mean it makes sense to me but i don’t know how this reads from an outside perspective. maybe i should have planned this like an essay or whatever lmao

thanks a lot for answering these & running this blog!!! it’s dope and you give really good insights and you’re just a super cool person!

<3 <3 <3 

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

Two Bisexuals Are Your Co-Captains

ao3

“I solved racism,” Mariner says, kicking open the ready room door. This should not be physically possible, as doors have progressed past the need to be opened, and are, in fact, automatic.

Boimler, whose face is currently one with the synthetic wooden desk, gives her a thumbs up but doesn’t move beyond that.

“Okay, I lied, I didn’t solve racism,” Mariner admits. “It’s still a problem in our galaxy. But, I did solve our captain problem!” she tries. This does get Boimler to remove his face from it’s fixture on the desk.

“You did?” he blinks up at her, creases in his face from where it had been smooshed against the hard surface.

Mariner dumps an honest-to-god paper file on his desk. “Check it out, twink.”

Boimler swipes the file, frowning as nothing happens when he taps it. Mariner helps him out, flipping the cover over. “So there’s this really nifty rule back from like 2039 that allows for two acting captains to co-pilot the ship simultaneously.”

“Are you serious?” Boimler groans.

“As Legato Infection,” Mariner confirms. “It was apparently instated for missions where the crew is like. Separated or some shit and need more than one captain coordinating. Because Starfleet was also part of the air force for a while, co-captains were basically just co-pilots. Like this was a whole thing. But it got overwritten with the First Officer Act of 2048 that instated First Officers as a fill in instead of a co-captain, able to make decisions and delegate, but it was never technically outlawed. Meaning…”

“We could technically take advantage of the loophole and-”

“Co-Captains!” Mariner punches the air. “You know what this means?”

Boimler blinks at her blankly. Beckett applauds herself over the alliteration, as she throws an arm over his shoulder. “It’s our ship,” she whispers dramatically, already envisioning the communist flags with selfies of her and Boimler printed on them.

“Or it could just be your ship,” Boimler says, fear in his eyes.

Beckett grabs his collar, dragging him up to eye level. “Our ship.”

________

“Beckett no,” Freeman says flatly. Ever since The Incident--the one where the ship was overrun with the Pakleds that took out the entirety of senior command--she’s been in medbay, wrapped up in so many bandages she looks like a mummy from one of those really old movies Boimler is obsessed with.

“Beckett yes ,” Mariner says, taking a slurp of her cherry limeade slurpee. “You named me First Officer!”

“Then why does Boimler-”

“Ransom also named him First Officer!”

“So your brain jumped to Co-Captains ?” Mariner can’t see her mom’s expression, but from her squinty eyes she’s pretty sure it’s disapproving. “That is the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“You can’t call your daughter dumb!” Mariner throws her hands up in the air.

“Mariner, you’re dumb.”

“That’s against parent rules! Everything I do is supposed to be a fucking delight!”

Freeman turns her judgy eyes to Boimler, who had been staring off into the middle distance, probably traumatized by all of the shrieking the mother and daughter duo had been doing since they entered medbay. Whatever, it’s not Mariner’s fault that her mom’s kneejerk reaction to her daughter charging into medbay with a bat'leth and no shirt on was to shriek like a goddamn banshee.

“You know what,” Freeman says, eyes locked on Boimler. “I’m already having a bad fucking week. Go ahead, make it worse I dare you .”

“Uhm-”

“We absolutely will do that,” Beckett promises, crossing her heart.

_____

“ ATTENTION ALL PERSONAL ,” Mariner says, over the ship’s speakers. D’Vana, from her position at the First Officer’s station, gives her a Disappointed Look. Mariner gives her a thumbs up back.

“ DUE TO OUR EXCRUCIATING CIRCUMSTANCES AND THE LACK OF COMMUNICATION BETWEEN YOUR FORMER CAPTAIN AND HER FIRST OFFICER, ENSIGN BOIMLER AND I WILL BE YOUR CO-CAPTAINS TONIGHT. OR FOREVER, WE HAVEN’T DECIDED YET.”

“Mariner, what are you doing?” Boimler says, storming onto the Bridge. Mariner, who had hacked the Bridge speakers to play Demi Lovato’s Confident every time Boimler entered, is pleased to note that nobody had figured out how to turn that off yet. Unfortunately for her, however, Boimler didn’t recognize his girlboss powers, and had been yelling at her every time it happened.

“I’m letting the ship know about our change in command, oh Co-Captain of mine,” Mariner says over the booming bass and Demi Lovato’s dulcet tones. In the corner of her eye, the vulcan side character that everyone thought was a Cool Guy, bopped his head to the music.

Boimler sighs, pressing his palms into his eyes. “So we’re actually doing this?”

“Dude, I already made us friendship jackets. That shit had a no refunds policy.” She pulls a leather jacket that had been draped over their helmsman's head--bad for ship navigation, but good for dramatic effect--and throws it at Boimler. Boimler unfolds the pink monstrosity, sighing deeply at the neon-yellow glitter words Gatekeep Girlboss Gaslight emblazoned on the back.

“Is this really necessary?”

“It’s ABSOLUTELY necessary,” Mariner says, standing up. She turns around, showing Boimler her purple jacket which says Malewife Mansplain Manipulate in snot-green glitter.

“HOW DOES THAT MATCH.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW DOES THAT MATCH.” Her voice echoes strangely, alerting her to the fact that the shipwide comms are still in use. She reaches over, flicking the switch off and turns back to Boimler, hands on her hips. “Is this an anxiety thing again? Do you need to go back on medication?”

“I don’t need to be on meds!”

“Then why won’t you wear our super secret special jackets!”

“Because mine is hot pink and says girlboss on the back!”

Mariner lets out a gasp. “Are you saying... Boimler are you adhering to GENDER ROLES?”

“No-no stop it -”

“You! You of ALL PEOPLE-”

“Mariner, cut it out!”

“LET IT BE KNOWN THAT BRAD BOIMLER IS A-”

Boimler pulls the jacket on so violently that he somehow elbows himself in the eye. The pink really does go with his hair-which Mariner knows for a fact he dyes himself every three weeks. “There! Happy?”

“So so happy.” Mariner hands him a martini from the tray she had brought in and nailed to the arm of the captain’s chair. The one she hands to Boimler has a rainbow umbrella in it. “So, first order of business. I think we need car seats for short people.”

“Excuse me.”

Mariner picks up her own martini glass and takes a chug, choking on the strawberry chunks she had grinded into it a few minutes before Boimler got here. “You know, car seats? That shit you put babies in because cars are a danger to humanity but we keep buying them? I think the shorties on this ship deserve some protection.”

Boimler drains his glass. “Fine, whatever, I don’t even care anymore.”

______

Mariner is commissioning the previously mentioned communist flags with hers and Boimler’s faces printed on them, when Tendi comes into the ready room. She is wearing the face of complete and utter defeat that everyone else had been wearing since the Co-Captains had been instated. Mariner insists it’s because they’re sad that she and Boimler wouldn’t get to be captains forever. Boimler says it’s because everyone’s writing their suicide notes to their familes.

“Mariner, we need to talk,” Tendi says, using the opening line to every break up Mariner’s been a part of and seen on tv. Which is really weird because she didn’t think she and Tendi were in a relationship.

“I’m all ears,” Mariner says, which is a dumb fucking line because clearly she isn’t , but people say that all the time.

“I don’t want to be your First Officer,” Tendi says, crossing her arms. “It was fun for the first week, but after you made it mandatory to do the Macarena during the first ten minutes of each hour, morale has been down.”

“Hmm,” Mariner pets Boimler’s therapy cat, Dishwasher, thoughtfully. “Okay, I’ll make that one optional. Any other requests?”

Tendi sighs. “No,” she admits. “To be honest, the ship is running at 98%, which is the highest any ship in Starfleet has ever run. I think Brad orgasmed when he heard about that.”

“You call him Brad ?” Mariner stares up at her friend, aghast.

“That’s his name?”

“Yeah, and his cat’s name is Dishwasher , but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to call her that!” Dishwasher growls at her name. Mariner shushes her, hands clamped over her ears. “She turns into a murder-rage machine when you call her by her given name! How do we know Boimler isn’t the same?”

“Because I call him Brad all the time!” Tendi hisses back, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Oh my god, he’s probably serial killing as we speak. I hope you’re ready to talk to the victim’s families and let them know that their loved one’s died because you couldn’t help yourself.”

Tendi stares at Mariner for a full minute. “Resignation,” she reiterates, pointing at Mariner. “I want to be a gross ensign scrubbing the deck again. Nepotism sucks .”

“Fine, you’re demoted. Go enjoy mediocrity.”

“I will.” Tendi storms out, kicking the door shut. Which again, is completely, 100% impossible because it’s the 23rd century or whatever-Mariner’s not keeping count-and automatic doors are now a Thing.

Mariner hacks their speaker systems to play the Wii Shop Channel Music-a reliac of the past only alluded to on private groupchats and servers- to play whenever Tendi entered a room. It’s the least she could do.

______

“As your First Officer,” a reluctant Rutherford says reluctantly, “I am here to remind you that that would be a very bad idea .”

“Rutherford, who’s the boss around here?” Mariner asks, hands on her hips.

Rutherford sighs. “You.”

“And as the boss, who makes all the decisions around here?”

Another sigh. “ You .”

“Then why are you being a killjoy over my decision to get down and dirty with my Co-Captain?”

Rutherford makes a shriek-y noise, like those boys who got their testicles cut off in the old days so they could sing opera. “Mariner, I’m serious, don’t do it .”

“Is it against regulation?”

“No,” Rutherford groans. “You’re both the same rank-”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You can’t sleep with Boimler just because you can!”

“That’s not why I’m going to sleep with Boimler,” Mariner waves him off. “I was sitting on his lap the other day-”

“Oh my god -”

“-in the Captain's chair--ooh we should look into getting another one of those, TWO chairs are better than one--”

“Mariner, to the point please.”

“Oh, yeah, so I’m in his lap and I maay have backed up a little too far and bumped up against-”

“Stop literally stop .”

“Yeah, so turns out Boimler is PACKING and I gotta hop on that train, so to speak.”

“Okay, you know what?” Rutherford shoves his padd at Mariner. “I quit, I can’t do this. I want to be a lower decks ensign again.”

“Wow, you’re like, the seventeenth person this week to quit. Which, coincidentally, is exactly how long I’ve been captain.”

“Yeah, weird coincidence,” Rutherford deadpans.

_____

“I may have fucked up, Mom,” Mariner shrieks, waltzing into medbay with all the grace of a duck pulling off a white bread heist. “I think you should take captaincy back.”

Freeman, who had fully recovered two days ago, but refused to engage in the chaos Mariner was purposely causing on her ship, looks up from where she’s reclining with her long island ice tea and swimwear magazines. “Really now?”

“ Yes . All of my friends hate me and I found out Boimler has purple pubs.”

Freeman almost drops her drink. “ What .”

“Tell me about it. Don’t get me wrong, we’re still fucking, but like. Wow, I thought he dyed everything. Turns out that shit is natural.”

Freeman covers her face with one hand. “No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re keeping the ship.”

“WHAT.”

“I already spoke to your father,” Freeman gives her daughter a shark-like smile. “We agreed that this position of authority has been good for you. And, considering, the ship is running better than any ship in Starfleet since the inception of the Federation, the Admiralty wants you and Boimler to stay on.”

“ WHAT .”

“They think it’s an interesting social experiment that merits more research. Congratulations, you and your fuck-buddy are now ginnypigs.”

___

“I think, as a sign of protest, we should rename the ship,” Mariner says, draped across the desk in the ready room. Boimler, sprawled out all over the desk chair, snorts. The room has been completely revamped in pride flags and the previously mentioned communist flags. Mariner thinks it’s her best interior design work, but Boimler claims it’s an eyesore.

“What would we name it?” he asks, humoring her.

Mariner considers it, taking a swig of vodka. “Okay, hear me out. Q and Picard’s Loveboat.”

Boimler grabs the bottle out of her hand, taking a chug. “You know what? This might as well happen.”

They submit the formal request on Boimler’s padd a few minutes later and are both pleasantly-at least in Mariner’s case-surprised that it goes through. It’s likely that the guy in charge of filtering these requests is either very very bored or very very underpaid and either way Mariner likes his energy.

A few days later, they have Q AND PICARD’S LOVEBOAT stamped across the side of the ship in comic sans-a truly underappreciated font from ye olden days that Mariner dug up one night on the wayback machine.

It takes exactly four weeks for the Admiralty to catch wind of it-by then she and Boimler had been Co-Captains for almost two months-and, well, there isn’t much they can do about it.

She does receive a rather long voicemail from her dad that she promptly deletes. She’s not about that energy.

_____

“Boims, Boims, Boims,” Mariner chants, crawling into his bed. Boimler lets out a shriek as her ice cold toes slide up against his bare thigh.

“So you know how our ship got renamed so easily?” she says, once Boimler had stopped screaming. “Well, I found the dude who approved it. Nice kid, I want his gender. Anyway, looks like my dad is getting a new ship and they're getting someone to christen it.”

“Oh my god,” Boimler says faintly, turning his face into his pillow.

“I may have gotten us on the list of possible people to christen it. As in, the kid hacked the server for me and we're the only people on that list.”

Boimler looks like he's regretting everything ever. He also looks like he's kind of in love with her. Mariner inspires that kind of duality in people. “What are we going to name it?” his voice has a tinge of fear in it that both of them get off on. The kink is strong with this couple.

Mariner grins.

_______

THE DADMIRAL: ACT OF REBELLION OR GENIUS?

Ash H. Beiggs

Many of you may remember the highly criticized decision Starfleet made when instating “Co-Captains” on the starship Q and Picard’s Loveboat ( formally known as the USS CERRITOS). Well, Captains Bradward P. Boimler and Beckett E. Mariner are back with bigger and bolder headlines to make.

The chaotic young duo are renowned Federation-wide not only for running the tightest ship in Starfleet, but for their unorthodox methods. Captain Mariner in particular has been praised for her innovating thinking and usual personality. When asked about her decision to name Admiral Mariner’s ship The Dadmiral she simply claimed that “Mohammad had his mountain, Jesus had his followers and [she] had a molotov cocktail and nothing to lose.” Captain Boimler declined to comment.

The actual christening of The Dadmiral was reported as a “spectacle to behold” by many onlookers. Captain Mariner was seen streaking through the aforementioned ship, with a bottle of vodka in one hand. Her Co-Captain was not far behind her, but was reportably more restrained. The actual christening was completed by Captain Mariner who “yeeted the vodka” into the ships warp core, shouting “ One of us. One of us,” in rapid succession until she was removed by security.

Neither Admiral Mariner or Captain Freeman are available to comment at this time.

[woodchoc-magnum]

911:Lone Star 2x07 Hate Watch

God you guys

This episode sucked so hard.

Friendly reminder - if you love this show, keep on keeping on, friend! I hate it!

Eddie Diaz to cleanse our hearts and minds before we embark on this journey of hate together:

Gwen can do better than Rob Lowe

He's not the one having second thoughts, she IS

Yes Gwen you are crazy for wanting to be with Rob Lowe

You can do better

What will be this episode's gross thing I wonder

CARLOS? IS THAT YOU?!

Why does Rob Lowe insist on doing all the stuff himself? Marjan could've climbed up there

What I love about TK in this scene is his total and utter lack of emotion

The flat register of his voice

It's such a phenomenal acting performance

They should nominate Ronen for an Emmy for the monotone alone

The outside of Rob Lowe's house is just as ugly as the inside

God this argument about what boring ugly kitchen stuff to keep is so fucking stupid

Oh I totally bought my friend one of those sloth tea infusers, she loves it

I also got her a shark

And… something else? A dinosaur?

These two are DOOMED

They can't even agree on kitchenware

And instead of communicating they just have sex

That's not the mark of a good relationship, friends

Is Nancy's foot still broken or nah?

I feel like Nancy hates TK as much as I do

Wait are paramedics geeks now

He CHANGED THE SYSTEM WITHOUT ASKING HER

No wonder she hates him

TK is so goddamn stupid and I hate his face so much

"Live in it for a minute"? Man fuck TK he sucks

Wait

How did they not know the fucking MRI machine was on?

Was there not a goddamn warning light?

Is there not an emergency shut off?

THE BUTTON IS ON THE FRONT OF THE FUCKING MACHINE ARE YOU FUCKING FOR REAL

"TK you got any metal in your body I need to know about?" "son you got a dick piercing or no?"

REALLY THEY TOOK THEIR FUCKING CLOTHES OFF FUCKING REALLY

This is legit the dumbest thing that's ever been on this show

This whole thing is so stupid

It was just an excuse to get everyone in their underwear

I just saw Rob Lowe's bulge

But I feel like I actually saw his dick in a movie once? The movie with Demi Moore… "About Last Night" – I'm like 90% sure you catch a glimpse of dick in that movie

Also off topic but Demi Moore looks absolutely fucking amazing in that movie and it has some full on 80s sex scenes and honestly, I was into it but Jim Belushi was also in that movie with his curly 80s mullet? So points are immediately subtracted

I would like to talk about Gina Torres and her goddamn BANGING BODY

GET IT GIRL

Judd is so nice and if he and Grace decided to move to LA, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world

Oh wait Judd is complimenting Rob Lowe on his STYLE? JUDD WE NEED TO TALK

YOU'RE ON THIN GODDAMN ICE

Nancy hates TK and I don't blame her

Not one little bit

NO MASKS AT THE TAEKWONDO THING

NO ONE IS WEARING A MASK

I haven't seen one mask – except for in the hospital – this entire episode

I'm kinda confused as to why the kid doesn't want her there? But I also need to make it clear that I don't care

TK is actually stupid

CARLOS

Wow you get more that one scene this episode! Great work bro

TK is a melodramatic little bitch and I hate him

Carlos has a really nice house though and I do like his couch

Wait did TK have that earring in when he went into the MRI room?

I'm going to assume no? But honestly with this show it was probably in and visible in the scene

I love this friendship between Tommy and Grace

We're seven episodes in and Tommy is still carrying on about how hard it is to be at work instead of with her kids – lady, women do this all the time

I feel like I'm meant to have sympathy but I just don't.

IT'S NOT HIS FUCKING BABY

WHO IS ENZO

IT'S NOT HIS BABY

Okay so this baby is going to be born but it's NOT ROB LOWE'S

"Rebound guy?" ROB LOWE YOU ARE THE REBOUND GUY

It's not over, she's still into whoever this Enzo is and I'd like to meet him

Lisa Edelstein you can do better than this man and this show

God this episode is so boring, literally no one has exploded

The odds aren't in Rob Lowe's favour, he had chemo, his sperm are DEAD

Why is there a bottle of Jack Daniels on the kitchen island during breakfast?

Oh he put it in the omelette wow okay

Okay someone has to clean up after the food fight guys

The earring in TK's ear makes him look like a 90s fuckboy

Yeah I said it

Wait it's JANUARY IN LONE STAR?

Is it January in the OG?

For this one fucking character who had less than five minutes of screen time in Season 1, they sure are spending a lot of time forcing us to care about his death

Oh thank god this is nearly finished

Rob Lowe is about to have his heart broken I can't wait

Delete the email? GIRL READ THE EMAIL

READ IT

Pretentious and insufferable? YOU ARE, OWEN

YOU ARE THE WORST

IT'S NOT HIS BABY

IT'S NOT HIS I KNEW IT

God there is going to be so much white man pain after this fucking bullshit

These two are doomed, totally fucking doomed

She's running away, it's done

She totally loves Enzo

I really want to meet Enzo, I bet he's hot

YOU ARE THE REBOUND OWEN

AMAZING

It's like watching his heart be crushed in slow motion and I love every minute of it

I give this episode a solid 0/10, there was nothing enjoyable about it - nobody blew up, not even one SINGLE PERSON BLEW UP.

God I hate this show so fucking much

How can the OG be so good and this just be so utterly abysmal? What the fuck is going on in the Lone Star writers room?

Is there something in Rob Lowe’s contract that says he needs to be the focal point of every single episode? Because truly, that’s the problem. On the OG, everyone gets a chance to shine - they know how to have some characters take a backseat in certain episode to give others a moment on their own. That’s why you feel so connected to all of the characters.

Angela Bassett is first billed on the OG and not every episode revolves around her - because the writers for the OG understand how to let everyone have a turn in the spotlight!

But not on Lone Star, it’s the fucking Rob Lowe show and it SUCKS.

And nobody wears a goddamn mask

And the MRI scene was SO FUCKING STUPID

AND I HAD TO SEE TK IN HIS UNDERWEAR.

Worst episode ever - you know what? Revised score: -1,000,000/10 FUCK YOU LONE STAR

Diaz to cleanse and breathe and we are moving on and everything is fine:

[littlefoxwithbighat]

Hi! This is talking about the plot of the dream smp in a meta sense and its a bit negative. The person behind this blog wants to remind you that you can skip if it's not for you and they still love the SMP. :)

ALL DISCUSSION IS ABOUT CHARACTERS. DON'T ATTACK CCS OR I WILL STEAL YOUR KNEECAPS.

I can't lie; I'm really annoyed and worried at the way the writers are handling Tommys character at the moment, and am increasingly concerned about it messing up the plot.

I wasn't very happy with the finale. I don't think that means all is lost, I think they can pull it back but it's going to take some work. I was worried about the way that things were handled before but the green festival was actually very well handled, so my worries were mostly assuaged. But yesterday? I don't know.

The fact nobody lost a cannon death is kind of disappointing. The weight of blowing up an entire city/ (country?) brutally is somewhat lost if there is no human loss. Nobody was hurt physically and the only people this had a big mental impact on was Tommy and Tubbo, everyone else wasn't very attached to L'manburg or had gone rogue, or were detatched from the while situation. And maybe it's the fact it's happened to them before or that they still have each other or that it seems odd/ frustrating that they still care so much about this place or that it was always a losing battle and they knew it, but I dont find myself really pitying them like I probably should. And I think that comes down to character growth or lack thereof, which I'll discuss later.

Niki and Fundy have started a villain arc, or at least a violent nihilism arc, and I actually don't mind it, in fact I'm a fan but it wasnt really foreshadowed, or really just showing them cracking as much as it should have been. I would guess this has mostly been started for both of them to tie Niki into the plot and I can't blame her for wanting that. Fundys acting is very good, and I REALLY hope the writers handle this well. For Fundy, regarding the fact that his father is going to be resurrected and that Fundy is following in his footsteps... If the writers don't realise that connection and make this a big step in Fundys narrative I will scream. Also Funboo bros are very interesting character foils and I hope their relationship is maintained so that they can play of off each other and also man I just really want them to keep being friends, it's a generally positive healthy relationship that makes both characters sympathetic and we need that right now. As for Niki, her character motivations seem to be mostly centered around Tommy and on the one hand I'm like ehhhh, because Tommy's character already gets a disproportionate amount of attention in terms of narrative, and I get it, but recently he's been a bit TOO much of the protagonist for a multi-person POV improve server... and I'm apprehensive. However on the other hand this has potential for a nice confrontation between Tommy and Niki. If that happens I want Tommy to be aware that this is going to happen and not talk over Niki, and I don't want it to be brushed over. I think it would be best if it was just the two of them. This also gives a nice chance for Tommy to examine his trauma with Dream and explain his motivations and Niki to get her anger out. I also want it to end positively, because it absolutely can and lack of communication when the viewer knows how to fix it is OK as a plot device sometimes but incredibly frustrating if it keeps happening (cough, Tommy and Techno).

Ranboo is reacting to the plot amazingly and I have as usual only praise for him, go, you funky enderman boy, go.

Wilbur is getting resurrected which is a thousand percent because Will wants the plot back and honestly I don't really mind, I think he'll do a good job. However I really hope he speaks to everybody about their characters, particularly Fundy, Ranboo and Niki because I don't want their characterisation and arcs to be thrown away.

Tubbo is doing very well, and I don't have many complaints to be honest. I hope he continues to get in with the acting with no shame, because he's an amazing VA when he wants to be, but sometimes he undercuts serious moments a little too much by laughing. Same criticism for Phil actually. But both are doing good.

On the theme of that, while I don't mind tension relievers or humour in serious moments there are sometimes too many. It was a lot worse about a month back and it was improving, but it seems to be creeping back in and ehhh. It's kind of Marvel-esque and not in a good way? I think it has a lot to do with bloopers and for some reason there are loads at the moment? Like Wilburs arc had almost none and this arc there's at least 2 every moment. Which isn't always their fault but maybe they need to take more steps to prevent them.

Techno is doing OK, he's quite a meta character so I'm not too mad about him undercutting serious moments but sometimes he does do it too much or in the wrong place. Like making jokes about Connor completely over the top of Tommy and Tubbos reunion, you know an event which has been foreshadowed for yoinks, prevented them from getting a proper flow going and kind of ruined it. And that made the reunion really dissapointing, which is a shame because it could have been so cool. However his characterisation is consistent and dedicated, his goals and relationships are clear and he's getting humanised more which is nice, and his monologues are great. I'm curious to see what he does now NL'M is gone but I have total faith in him.

Now Tommy. Oh Tommy. His character is such a mess at the moment, which is a shame because there were moments I saw people doubting his character choices and I was behind him.

Firstly the relationship with Techno fell apart. That was inevitable. Tommy didn't care about anarchy and Techno didn't care about the discs and both of their goals would impede the others. But the way Tommy talks about Techno is so... No? And now I understand that Tommy is going to have a biased perspective on the whole situation, and that's fine and good, but his character is so wrong about Techno it feels weird and painful? Like even from his perspective it went down differently to how he talks about it. They don't listen to each other and it's like watching two people scream at a wall.

The issue is the relationship was fairly well developed. I struggle to see Tommy saying he saw Techno as a friend but Techno never saw him as a friend because hold on, what? Techno, here's a respiration helmet because of that one of thing you told me about your trauma, a disc because those make you happy, plus top tier armour and weaponry, plus I'm going to spend time with you, calm you down from panic attacks, hide you and protect you from Dream, let you wander around L'manburg and achieve your own goals and help you plan things out Techno and Tommy didn't get ANYTHING from that? Plus after Techno opens up about his goals and his trauma, do the one thing that would hurt him the most, (use and then betray him) and then directly oppose his goals after he helped me? Ugh. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I know he would never let Tubbo get hurt and thats fine, but there were ways around that. If you're framing this character as the protagonist, then he needs to be sympathetic or at least grow and Tommy using Techno again without remorse and then refusing to listen to his perspective or show any gratitude for anything makes it difficult for viewers to empathise with him in my opinion. Have him betray Techno and then listen to Techno when he explains why Tommys betrayal hurt him and apologise, fine. Have him listen to Techno and try and find a way to keep Tubbo safe regardless, fine. Have him betray Techno but apologetically and still trying to avoid Techo getting crushed or killed, fine. But THIS? Im sympathetic towards Tommys character but this throws away so much potential character development for Tommy, where at least he saw Techno as a person, and not only that but a nice person who despite everything has set aside everything to help him? And then for him to be exactly where he was at the end of season 1, both literally, and emotionally ? I understand this is a child soldier with trauma but this is supposed to be our protagonist and if he doesn't grow, and isn't sympathetic and destroys someone we care about, how can we root for him?

Now all of this could be forgivable, not great, but forgivable, if Tommy had moved on from the discs. The Goddamn Discs™. And the worse part is all the dominoes were lined up to suggest he had! We had his moment of "he watched me" where he realised Dream was the villain and controlling him, "I've become worse than everyone I hated" good, amazing, I see where this is going, "The discs were worth more than you ever were!" and then he retracts and apologises and you think horray! Tommy has realised the discs were being used to control him and if he doesn't care about them, they hold no value! Now he's going to realise that his friends are more important and he's going to stop going after the discs. His new character motivation can be killing Dream and protecting his friends, especially Tubbo. It's clearly angled this way, and this way the plot progresses and Tommy with it. What marvellous character development. Look at him go.

And THEN, after everything that's happened he says the most important thing is the disc and I want them back!?!? EH !!? Why... Who... Who gave the OK on that writing decision? That's so static and boring and unsympathetic! And then he's back to asking people do fight for L'manburg? What?

I'll be honest I was kind go hoping either Tommy or Tubbo would die with L'manburg. I didn't mind it they didn't, there are a thousand ways to make the plot work without them dying, but this was not a great one.

PLEASE let Tommy have some growth. Yes he's had some from not caring about L'manburg to fighting for it in season one, but that was ages ago and he doesnt seem to have changed since then in any way that really counts. And I know this is harsh and he's traumatised but you have to understand I am talking about this in a sense of characters and narrative and NOT in terms of real life. Tommy needs to be better and dynamic because he is a charcacter and I want him to be a good one.

Having said all that, here are my thoughts on the future of the SMP.

Firstly, I am worried that becuse it is such a good source of content, especially for Tommy that they will never ever kill his character and leave him fighting with Dream for eternity. And I love the Dream SMP but I've seen stories that get dragged out for plot or content, and however much you think you want it to never end, let me tell you, yes you do. It will get stale and repetitive and I want the dream smp, or at least Tommys arc to go out with a beautiful and brilliant and fabulous plot ending instead of being dragged into the dirt. And then maybe new characters take the spotlight. Just please god give it a goode ending.

I also really hope they don't throw other things away to make Tommy the centre of attention, especially if it's destructive to the plot, or kind of weird and obnoxious.

Secondly, I am intrigued about the prison and Schlatts book to Dream and Technos favour and the egg and what that entails and I hope they really think through those plot points carefully and make them work, and don't forget them or throw them away.

Thirdly, I am intrigued for Wilburs return and hope that he manages to fix it cohesively without too crazy a change of pace and style and keeping characters (especially Ranboo and Fundy and Niki) consistent.

I hope they prep for the future and think things thought and communicate with each other.

It might be interesting to see other countries finally discussed but I don't know how much that would intefere with other plot points so we'll see.

That's all! Reminder that this is about characters and plot and this is just a few criticisms. I love the dream smp, but there are somethings I wanted to get of my chest. Please be respectful and feel free to discuss in the notes. Also, again, no hate to any CCs!

[oreolesbian]

hey: if someone is coming out to you, don’t talk over them, please just fucking listen. especially if you’re cishet.

they’re not just saying things, they know themselves more than you do, even if you think you know them so well and know what’s best for them and whatnot, you don’t. i’m sorry. nobody knows anybody as well as they know themselves. ever.

this person is queer. they’re telling you that because they’re trusting you. not because they want your opinion, but because they don’t want to hide anymore. cause hiding who you are fucking sucks. it does. you tip toe around everything that brings you joy and you feel like a fraud in your own skin. you literally aren’t you around people that are supposed to love you.

you may think you know gay people and are the best ally in the world. great. love that for you. don’t talk about that. by god, don’t make someone else’s coming out about you. cause it’s fucking not.

don’t try to guess why this person is queer. don’t try to “put it together.” don’t tell them, especially if they’re a kid, that they don’t really know themselves yet…that they don’t have the “experience.” cause god knows i’ve never heard anyone cishet be questioned as to why they are who they are.

you don’t have to have been in a relationship before to know you’re queer. only you can answer those questions. if you know, you know. simple as that. of course it may take a bit to get to that point for some, and that’s okay. it’s normal. you came into the world assumed cishet. so naturally you’ll assume the same about yourself until the day comes where you realize it’s all a load of a shit and you’re who you say you are—no one else saying it for you. if someone tells you you just don’t know yourself yet, fuck them. maybe you are questioning…who the fuck cares. it’s not their business. this goes for literally all ages. my own mom told me i couldn’t know i was gay yet when i was 16. then again at 18. and continuously on. they’ll keep saying it to you because what they’re really saying is that they don’t want you to be queer. because they think queerness is an anomaly, a phase, acting out, experimentation, etc. it’s not.

a queer person coming out to you is the ultimate form of trust. it’s fucking terrifying. every time. yes, every time, no matter how many times you do it. because you will do it. a lot. for the rest of your life, most likely. because people will always assume cishet first. you come out to literally everyone you know…and the walking on eggshells process of evaluating their persona and whether or not they might literally harm you is absolutely mentally exhausting.

every day i meet a new person, i have to check my queerness. am i being too obvious? if i am, does it matter? should i drop hints and gauge reactions? or dial it back just to be safe? will this girl i’m talking to assume i’m flirting and be disgusted with me or be chill with it? what if i’m actually flirting? how do i do that without being 100% sure it’s a thing i even can do with her? can i write this paper in class on a piece of queer media or will i be unintentionally outing myself? can i openly defend LGBTQ issues or will that also out me? will this person treat me differently if i tell them? oh god, now my stomach hurts cause two women are kissing on tv and the person next to me is rolling their eyes. should i act nonchalant? maybe i should only watch queer content alone from now on. oh shit my gay music is playing…turn it off turn it off! should i clear my search history? do i look too masculine today? do i look too feminine today? oh god, everyone around me KNOWS.

^^ this is a pretty regular thought process for me. yeah, i’ve got anxiety, but this is, to my knowledge of every queer person i’ve ever interacted with, pretty goddamn normal. doesn’t make it right, but it’s reality. so yeah, if you’re telling a queer person that’s never been in a relationship that “well then how do you know for sure?” i think this makes it pretty crystal fucking clear. do you know how hard it is for queer kids to not only come to terms with who they are, but confront the fears of being publicly out or even trying to gauge who is actually queer like them—who actually is in their dating pool? who they can trust with their true selves??

i would love it if i could walk up to a random girl on the street i think is cute and ask her on a date. but i can’t. because i have to think through all those things above, all the time, to protect myself and my sanity. cause i don’t want to be treated different or looked at weird. every time i come out, even subtly, my throat closes. cause i’m petrified. i’m beyond proud of who i am, it’s the truest part of me and a real confidence boost, but i’m beyond terrified of the hatred, the whispers, the stares. yeah, we’ve made progress, but the story’s still the same in our little heteronormative society.

don’t talk over queer people. do your best to understand our struggles, but acknowledge that you never will really understand. cause you can’t. even if you had a gay friend, my god. you don’t understand. i promise you don’t. if you want to be an ally, a real ally, can you just listen? please? things you may think are so simple for you aren’t always for queer people. i mean god, y’all don’t have to think twice about holding hands with a partner for crying out loud.

the queer experience is individual, different for everyone, so why do you possibly think you could understand it for someone else?

this is not a: gee it really sucks to be queer rant. cause it doesn’t. it’s great. our community has its ups and downs but i have formed the strongest bonds through the trust i’ve formed in other queer people in my life. but there are days where i just can’t fucking take it anymore. i’ll hear my family watch a stand up comedian downstairs whose punchline is my very existence. and they laugh. and i stay silent upstairs, nauseous. cause yeah, maybe they accept me, and that’s a blessing in itself, but i’m still an other to them. a joke. something to be looked at and criticized and critiqued and questioned. all because i love differently. and i don’t think it’s overly sensitive to be angry about that reality. cause i am angry. and sad. and trying my damndest every day to look towards the positive. cause mental health and self-care is important when you’re doing all these mental gymnastics on the daily.

so. someone comes out to you. thank them for their trust. support them. offer congratulations or happy feelings. maybe even a hug if they want one. acknowledge that you’ll never truly understand the queer experience, but that you want to at least understand enough to help and listen where you’re able to.

don’t ask how they knew. when they knew. question how. say they “don’t look queer.” say “i always knew.” etc. etc.

it may seem like simple harmless phrases, but they make a queer person feel like they’re being talked over. a point of discussion when all they wanted to do was to stop hiding themselves. it hurts even more when it comes from someone you care about. so please please please, try to be better. i don’t think it’s asking much.