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faebriel · 1 year ago

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and you caused it: chapter 5

In which Niki has a terrible secret, Puffy just wants to move on, Tommy sneaks into casino parties and Wilbur learns to deal with anger being justified. Or - the one thing they don’t warn you of, when dropping nuclear warheads on old friends, is fallout.

in chapter 5: resolutions are made on phil's verandah, wilbur finally understands how horrible it would be to die in a ravine underground, and once-old friends are made new again. niki, again, finds herself baking a cake.

welcome to the final entry! thank you so much for reading <3

wc: 5.6k

(cw: this chapter includes discussion of suicidal ideation.)

so life in the arctic settles back into relative normality.

there are still some patches of it that are painfully awkward - tubbo and techno are still trying to find their footing as they trawl the compound’s outskirts for sight of ranboo, and tommy still has his moments where he can’t stand to be near any of them without shouting his voice out, and wilbur and niki try very hard to pretend that the other doesn’t exist whenever they cross paths at breakfast and dinner. it feels like pulling on an old coat, one that’s too tight at the shoulders and too short at the sleeves. not quite familiar, not quite right.

at some point tubbo does curtly inform niki that tommy has forgiven her, and that he appreciates what she did for them in the underground city. niki is able to see the gap between those two sentences, but even if she doesn’t have tubbo’s forgiveness yet, she recognises and appreciates the olive branch.

they’re not quite friends anymore. she and techno and phil are still close, of course - but everyone else. the hurt was a long time ago, long enough that she thought it might have healed on its own, but the explosion and the mess dream made of her city have ripped the scabs wide open and she’s not entirely sure if they’re going to heal the same way again. that they won’t heal ragged.

but she’s getting used to it.

niki has a strange relationship with mourning. fungi, wilbur, l’manberg, the untimely disappearances of jack and fundy and puffy and so many more people from her life - she’s never quite managed to get it right. it’s always too much, enough for it to feel like it’s burning her alive. this, though… she knows she’s burnt those bridges, but she’s managing. they’re managing. they’re civil, and sometimes tommy offers to help her bake still, and techno spars with her out in the snow, and even though everything fell apart she’s not lonely. she’s not on her own anymore. fucked up and distant and hurtful as they all can be, they can exist in each other’s spaces now.

and the thing about the syndicate - and by extension, the arctic - is that they’re always busy. phil, niki and techno have their duties, of course (mostly book club. especially after niki returned from the city. but there’s still dream out on the server somewhere, and even if the syndicate technically has no quarrel with him, neither of them ever argue with the bitter scowl that settles on her face whenever she’s reminded of what he did to her city). tommy tends to stick to the compound, but he still feeds the animals and mends the fences and follows phil and techno like a duckling to the occasional abandoned mansion or village. wilbur goes for… walks. tubbo gets all thin-mouthed if he stays in the arctic for too long and ends up making off for a day in snowchester, no matter the hissed arguments he and tommy keep having on the front porch of the stables about it (techno’s guest room overlooks the paddock, and she doesn’t think they know she can hear them every time).

there’s always something to do. this is good for niki - she likes to keep her hands busy, she likes to feel like she’s helping. she fixes fences and feeds the turtles and babysits michael and yes, she bakes. she’s doing pretty well with feeling content these days, she’s not often sad - and at least when she is, she has something to devote her time towards instead.

(it stings that wilbur barely even talk to her anymore. she’d rather that than have either of them get into a spat and say something they would regret, though.

even this, still, doesn’t last forever.)

—

there are some days where tubbo wants to go look for ranboo (still missing - that is something that still troubles niki, something they can all agree on) and that means techno wants to go out as well, and then tommy insists on acting as escort whenever tubbo and techno are left alone together, and phil tags along under the excuse of making sure everyone comes back with their heads intact (untrue - niki thinks he’s scouting for another build site). so, of course, someone has to look after michael.

tubbo deposits him like a small sandbag in niki’s arms.

(there’s a secret hierarchy to who gets to babysit michael, one that niki only noticed about the sixth time tubbo asked her to babysit immediately after tommy said no - phil first, then tommy, then niki, and then… tubbo still doesn’t seem to like leaving michael with wilbur or techno without some kind of supervision.)

he’s a fairly lax parent, when it comes to babysitting - and it helps that michael is apparently used to staying inside, moving from house to ravine to cabin. he has colouring books and paints and a few hardcover picture books phil donated when tubbo moved up north and even a wooden toy sword, not that he uses it often. tubbo rattles off something about how he’s starting michael on some piston miniatures - tubbo has been putting them together this week, when he found the time (niki looks at the dark violet bags beneath his eyes…) - and that michael can keep playing with those if he wants, but nothing more than a finger-scrape of redstone yet please, because he’s not entirely sure what will happen if michael decides to try eating it. niki nods, and silently resolves to keep the pistons in their chest until tubbo returns.

michael is perfectly behaved, as he tends to be, and after an evening tiring himself out explaining his puzzles to niki he’s all curled up under blankets and sleeping softly on the worn, old couch. (there is a child’s bed in the spare room now, but tubbo is remarkably hot and cold on whether he likes it actually being used.) niki keeps an eye on him while she floats through the kitchen, brewing another batch of radiation sickness treatment. it’s another large one, with all three of them living in the arctic most of the time.

it’s almost peaceful, until wilbur makes his way down the stairs.

it would seem easy for them to keep ignoring each other. they have been ignoring each other, to some degree. but that’s only when wrapped in the buffers of other people. neither of them can last long in a quiet room, and after a few awkward minutes, wilbur makes his way outside.

after a few more - just long enough to take the potions off the boil, stack them in the kitchen chests and tidy up the spilt sugar - niki follows.

He’s smoking again, she realises. The cigarette winks like a tiny amber star in his hand, fallen from the night that blankets the arctic around them. “You shouldn’t be smoking again,” she duly informs his back. If she’s startled him, if he didn’t expect her presence, he doesn’t show it. “Are they out?” he asks instead. “They are.” No point wishing for pleasantries. “Looking for Ranboo again.” “Ah.” Wilbur’s chin tips towards at that, a weight upon his shoulders – he leans heavy against the railing, as if it props up most of his weight. She creeps forward, letting her fingers find the railing beside him. The wood is cold underneath her hands, laced with frost. “You were close, weren’t you?” He doesn’t answer. Niki bites her lip. “I’m sorry, Wil.” He barks out a humourless laugh. “It’s not like I was any good for him, in the end. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went down in flames with the casino.” “The comms would have notified us if that happened. I didn’t see a message.” Is that what Wilbur’s thinking to himself now, wondering if he had somehow missed it? It wouldn’t be the first time he let himself believe something entirely untrue. “And that doesn’t mean that you didn’t care for him. That it doesn’t hurt you.” Wilbur doesn’t look at her anymore. Not since that night over the crater, when she refused to tell him where Tommy was (does he wonder about that night? Does he ask himself how he didn’t know? Would he have ever known, if it weren’t for Dream?) - no more glances exchanged in the middle of one of Tubbo’s rambling or Tommy’s rants, no cheeky smiles and inside jokes, nothing. She still can’t tell whether she prefers it or not - whether she would rather see his expression twist into dismissive disgust when he lays eyes on her, or not at all. He still doesn’t look at her now, staring into the pearl-white plain stretching before them, as far as the eye can see from left to right before nestling itself into throngs of pine - but there’s a shift in his shoulders, the slightest incline of his head. He’s listening. “Tommy told me that you two were working together,” she continues. “Briefly.” He pauses, takes another drag. Niki resists the urge to crinkle her nose up. She’s never liked the smell of cigarette smoke. “Tommy didn’t say he’d been talking to you.” “We’ve been talking quite a bit, recently.” “Apparently.” His tone is not what she expected it to be - not that, really, she knew what to expect at all. Perhaps jealous. Instead, he sounds almost impressed, if humourlessly. “You did a good thing with the ravine, Niki. They needed to be somewhere safe. It was a good thing for you to do. Selfless, really.”

Now, that makes Niki turns to face him – his ember-lit profile, silhouetted against the snowdrift glow. She narrows her eyes, though, cautious. “I didn’t do it for your approval, Wilbur,” Niki says. He doesn’t even say anything to that one, just angles his face that slightest bit towards hers - just enough to catch his eye. His gaze is too assessing. She’s always been honest with Wilbur, anyway. “Not your approval specifically,” she amends. Wilbur hums. “Maybe it was too selfless,” he says - there’s that thoughtful note in his voice, musing. “You were always the good one, you know? Even in - even in Pogtopia, yeah? It was always, what would Niki think of this. That’s what Tommy would ask, all the fucking time.” He laughs. Niki does not want to ask what he thinks is so funny. “Drove me nuts.” “Is that why it didn’t work, in the end?” she asks. The question is clumsy, but it strikes Wilbur with all the clarity it needs - laughter immediately swallowed. “No,” he tells her. “No, Niki, that had nothing to do with you.” And isn’t it pathetic, that a sentence like that still stings? “People can always change, Wilbur. People do change.” Not that Wilbur has ever had it easy grasping that. This conversation, this argument - one they never even had - is almost two years old. Wilbur is dead and buried and pulled back again through the span of it. And still, it matters to her. She sucks in a breath. The coldness stings her lungs, as if frostbite can gnaw at her from the inside out. “I think I changed.”

“Did I ever know you, at all?” Wilbur asks. The question is immediate, as if he’s been holding it on his tongue for some time longer than the last few minutes - days, weeks, maybe even years, like her. Keeping it close to his chest, keeping it warm and alive by nestling it in flesh and blood. “Of course you did,” she tells him. “You were one of my closest friends, Wilbur.” And I was yours, she doesn’t say, because Niki knows when she’s pushing it. He looks touched, even if it’s not what he meant by the question. “You knew me. In Pogtopia.” “Wil, I know that you were sorry - ” “I am,” he interrupts her. “I - I was. I know what you’re going to say, Niki,” his voice goes half-mocking, “that I was myself in L’Manberg, and then I changed. I changed, not that I knew exactly what I was - not that I knew it the whole time.” Niki’s mouth opens to retort - but Wilbur raises a hand to stop her, as if he’s expecting it. “That’s what you thought, wasn’t it?” Niki lets her mouth fall closed, sheepish. “I know it was wrong.” “Maybe. But I was listening, then and now - I don’t think it ever mattered how long we knew each other, Niki. There was too much you didn’t know. There was too much I couldn’t bear anyone else to know, I couldn’t bear anyone else to carry, that I couldn’t - ” he waves the cigarette in her direction. “Fuck, Niki, did you even know I smoked?” She looks down her nose at the small, glowing thing. “It’s not a very attractive trait.” Wilbur snorts out a laugh. “Right.” Doesn’t stop him from taking another drag. He’s not rude enough to blow smoke in her direction, or anything like that - but she catches him sending an expectant look her way after he exhales, like he’s waiting for her to tear him a new one over it. And seeming none too displeased about it, either. She doesn’t, for the record. All she does is roll her eyes slightly, and that seems to fulfil whatever Wilbur is looking for. “Y’know, I always thought - all that. I always thought, that’s me. This shitty, in-com-prehendable mess - I mean, you saw me, Niki, I was a mess. And I always thought that was just me. But… I don’t know. I’m starting to think there’s more than a few fucked up people on this server, honestly.” And everything seems less funny. Colder. “I don’t think I ever knew you,” Wilbur says, as conversationally as if they were discussing the weather. “How - how bad did it get? After I died?” “How bad did what get?” “You. Everything. I - everything. This server.” All Niki can do is shrug helplessly, swallowing the rabbit-hop kicking of her heart in her chest, in her throat. “I don’t know what to tell you. Things were bad, Wilbur. We were all mourning, we were grieving. Grief made it worse.” She leans against the railing, letting her weight sink into it. “It wasn’t all you, of course. There was - there was the Egg, and all of that. And so many other things, probably, I wouldn’t have known about it all.” Wilbur snorts again. Quietly, he echoes it wasn’t all about you under his breath. And Niki, her heart freezes over in her chest. A cold stone, sitting in the back of her throat - it sits there, with the last of her petty secrets. What else does she have to lose? Nothing. You know what they say, her mind reminds her, about a woman that has nothing to lose.

“I was thinking about killing myself.” The laughter stops. She’s not looking at him. She’s looking down at her hands again, fingers pale against the wooden rail, imagining them frostbitten. Imagining herself as a walking woman of ice, cold and clear and unaffected by the words she finally says aloud. She can see his hand too, next to hers - the other is holding the cigarette. His grip on the railing tightens. She told him this, she thought. He doesn't act like she had. He doesn't act like he understood fully until she spelled it out plainly. “Not - I didn’t make any plans for it,” she rushes to explain. “But I just assumed, I think… I just assumed that one day I would just get too hungry, or get too sick on my own in the city, and…” The ending of the sentence, that’s the difficult bit. She traces the grain of the wood with her thumb. “And it would all be over.” “You wouldn’t,” Wilbur chokes out. “I know, I know. There’s - there’s limbo. I didn’t believe in it for a long time, though. Did you know, Perfect is an endless life server? No - no death, really. I always thought that here must be the same, until…” She pauses. “L’Manberg wasn’t itself anymore, it was eating my friends alive - it ate you alive. I had nothing to care about, I had nothing to live for left. It was just… revenge. You don’t have to like it, but that was what kept me going. I was - I was so hungry, Wil. I was so hungry, but I couldn’t even bring myself to eat. I didn’t feel like I was living.” Finally, she lifts her head. Wilbur looks almost shellshocked. “...I didn’t want you to feel like that. I never want you to feel like that. Ever.” “It wasn’t your fault.” “Yes, yes, I know, but - you know I wouldn’t want you to be in that place, ever, don’t you?” A shadow casts over his expressed - half panicked, half soured. “Even after that stupid fucking casino - never, Niki. I didn’t mean for it to come to that. You have to believe me, I didn’t.”

“It wouldn’t have,” she assures him. “There was Tommy and Tubbo,” she nods towards the door leading back inside, “and Michael, as well. I couldn’t have.” A horribly morbid thought takes over her. “I wouldn’t have had the space, for one.” Wilbur does not laugh. In fact, he looks quite stern about the whole thing. “That’s not funny.” “I wasn’t joking!” she says - not quite defensively, but almost. She takes this seriously. “The three of them, they just take up so much space. And the mess…” Wilbur looks just about ready to harrumph at her - funny how the tables turn so quickly, now that the suicidal breakdown is on the other foot - but he comes up with nothing besides a few unhappy-looking expressions. “It was just hard,” she continues, eventually. “All I cared about was killing Tommy. I didn’t think about what that would have meant, what would happened if we pulled it off…” Wilbur is quiet. Niki breathes out another disappointed laugh. “I suppose I didn’t care about much of anything at all,” she says. “If we pulled it off?” Wilbur asks. She looks up at him, and - his gaze cuts right through her, steely and dark as anything. “Hm?” “There was always someone else, wasn’t there?” he asks - no, this is closer to a demand. Not in its ferocity - Wilbur is markedly gentle, and Niki gets the feeling she is going to have to get used to the feeling of kid gloves for a while - but in its intent. “It wasn’t just you.” Niki stiffens. “That isn’t my business to tell.” “Not my business,” Wilbur echoes, voice pitching up and down in all the wrong places - “isn’t it? Isn’t this how we got here?” “I got here because Techno half-dragged me back,” Niki shoots back at him, “and because Tommy was kind enough to ask him to. Does it matter if there was someone else? Really?” He pouts, the melodramatic thing. “I guess not.” She resists the urge to sigh. She might not have felt much kinship with Jack during their brief partnership - no, what they had was darker and emptier than kinship, barely even allies - but now, she can care for him in retrospect. She doesn’t want to bring the full storm of Wilbur’s frustration and confusion down on him, especially if he’s still in the same state Niki saw him in last. Her heart twinges, not for the first time. It keeps doing that when she thinks of Jack. If it weren’t for how empty those months were, how heartless and cold, Niki would almost think that she misses him. “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she glosses over it. “I still made those choices. I knew what I was doing. I wanted him dead, so badly… it was an ugly feeling.” Is that what it felt like to be Wilbur, back in that ravine? She guesses it’s the closest she’s ever felt. She hopes it’s the closest she’ll ever be to how Wilbur felt. “So now you know me,” she concludes, “properly. And I know you.” “I suppose I do.” He huffs out a sigh. Niki bites down on another definitely-unwanted comment about the smoking. “We can’t do this one over, can we.” “I don’t think we can.” “Flown too close to the sun,” Wilbur murmurs. “Are we ever going to go back to normal?”

Wilbur considers it. “...was normal ever any good? Did it ever do any good, for us?” he asks. Did it? Oh, Niki longs for normal. She longs for summer days in redwoods that never seemed to end; she longs for the smell of bread and wildflowers wrapping her in their embrace. She longs for feeling secure, for feeling comfortable and safe. She longs for the time when she knew who her friends were, and knew that list of friends was one she wouldn’t be able to count on two hands. She longs for when things were easy. Less complicated. Normal. Yes, part of her still longs for L’Manberg. The old L’Manberg, her home. But that place is long dead. She thinks of her bakery - now burned, and thinks of every second she felt unappreciated. Every time she felt hungry, every time that she let herself starve. She thinks of the safety that slipped through her fingers like sand the moment that the old day ticked over into the new. She thinks of being stolen from. She thinks of walking on glass, never knowing if her home and her things would be griefed for kicks. She thinks of how much she trusted Wilbur, and the cigarettes he must have hidden in his office - she would have known about them, otherwise. She thinks of the cracks that she couldn’t see, but were there nonetheless. “No,” she decides. She cannot tell if it feels more like a victory, or a defeat. Maybe both, maybe neither - maybe, just plain relief. “I don’t think it was.” The quiet reigns. "I'd like to get to know you," she adds, barely louder than a whisper. Being vulnerable with Wilbur has always been easy, to some degree. He thinks on it. She can tell, because he goes quiet for a moment - a long moment - and it takes him a few tries to answer, mustering up breath for nothing. The seconds drag their feet. Niki watches birds play in the distant treeline. "I think I would like that," Wilbur answers, and when Niki finally looks towards him, he looks almost content.

and that is almost peace.

they are interrupted by a flurry of shouts over the horizon, one that snaps them both to attention. a small set of figures (figurines, really) stagger through the snow - when niki squints she can see techno leading the pack, charging through the snowdrifts with purpose, tommy buzzing around him like a golden insect. tubbo trails behind both, utterly fixed on something, as phil follows with haste.

"oh, my god," niki says, a murmur trailing tall into a cry, as wilbur's hand comes to cover his mouth -

ranboo, slung over techno's shoulder.

there is going to be a reckoning over ranboo, weeks trapped in enderwalk, exhausted and bruised - over books and puppeteers and stacks of dynamite, over why it took so long for anyone to see dream as a threat, over how he roams the hills of the server with netherite in hand and blood on his mind - the fight rolling in like bad weather as they all stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the rain.

that's later, though, and something niki has no desire to lose friends over anyway - for now she clears space on the dining table as wilbur ushers michael into a spare bedroom, sticking his head through the doorframe to watch as techno dumps the kid's worn and bloodied body on the table and tommy shoves himself forward with torn cloth in one hand and the first of many healing potions in the other. for now she hovers by the doorway, one hand on tubbo’s shoulder, and waits for the sun to rise.

—

ranboo’s recovery takes a long time. he’s not dead, thank the stars above, but when techno and tubbo dragged him back to the arctic he was worn and filthy and callused in places that niki didn’t even know could get calluses. and they’re terrified, literally terrified on their own shadow, and there are nights where ranboo traipses up the stairs and sleeps in that spare bed in techno’s house (curled up around themself, like a turtle in its shell - niki knows, she wandered in one morning while they were still asleep) and tubbo goes out to stay in the little shack he and tommy have built near her cabin and it’s nothing but tommy’s loud ramblings that breaks the silence for days. niki thinks back to the dinner they all had, descending into arguments, and thinks of tommy’s words afterwards - and for a while, she genuinely does think they’re going to divorce. love has been made a martyr for less.

but they don’t. or, if they did, it was amicable enough that niki hasn’t noticed.

she’s never seen michael happier now that both of his dads are around, and he has a way of practically forcing everyone to get along - if he wasn’t so little, niki would almost suspect him of weaponising how cute he is whenever it looks like someone is going to fall into a spat again. tubbo unwinds - some days, he even smiles like he did back in l’manberg. he and ranboo spend a lot of time with the turtles. the bags under tommy’s eyes stay stubbornly dark, but he stops holding himself like he’s constantly waiting for someone to throw a punch, and lo and behold, he starts to get - loud. he follows techno and wilbur around like a squabbling bird, a cuckoo making itself well and comfy in the nest. wilbur, for his part, tends to just roll his eyes while making some equally immature and snippy comment back at tommy, as he passes niki her mug of tea.

and finally, they can all breathe.

niki starts to feel like everything is going to be alright.

—

they don’t do proper surprises anymore - it’s not safe to walk around with a blindfold, and niki gets uneasy when one of them is wandering off on their own for too long - but tommy insists that the four of them have a surprise for niki and then immediately slams his hand over tubbo’s mouth and starts filling the air with his and wilbur’s latest adventures (tommy claims to have found shroud a wife, who chased wilbur from the pine forest to the fences around the compound for a solid half hour) before tubbo can spoil anything.

they don’t tell her where they’re going, but niki knows the pathway to her city better than anyone.

a hush falls over the five of them (god, they move in packs these days, don't they) as they descend the staircase - not quite hand in hand, with the exception of ranboo and tubbo, but certainly shoulder to shoulder. niki, tommy, tubbo and michael are almost hyperaware of the damage that's been done to this place already, and ranboo is having one of his healthy degree of suspicion, or anxiety days. it's a slow descent. halfway down the steps tommy is possessed with a sudden, jerky shudder, and niki thinks for a moment that he's going to turn back - but he steels himself, chewing ferociously on his bottom lip, and soldiers on regardless.

she still isn't sure how to feel about her city anymore. it was supposed to be a safe refuge - but sometime it had stopped being her refuge from anything, and dream has certainly proven that it wasn't safe. she stays at the arctic these days, because she's come to realise that being around people is better for her at the moment. but that doesn't mean she doesn't miss it.

until she reaches the bottom step.

the place is still chaos, mostly. the dirt is still in piles on the ground, even if it has been swept to the walls. the stone is still pockmarked with the unmistakable imprints of TNT. iron beams, bent and broken, stick out of her ceiling like the ribs of a rotting creature. but -

there is a small patch of grass tucked into a crevice, spotted with azalea bushes and wildflowers, surrounded with a short stack of beehives. a jukebox sits on the corner, spinning to itself - she doesn't recognise the melody, something quiet and stringy and sweet. the sound is almost lost under the hum of the bees clustered around tallest flowers, watching the newcomers with dark, curious eyes.

she cries.

(niki remembers, back when they all lived under the ground together - and what a nightmare that was - tubbo never spontaneously renovated her farms or walkways or bedrooms sitting unused without asking permission first.)

they made an exception for the beehive nook, but they still do ask: would she mind, terribly, if they spent some time fixing up the place? nothing too obtrusive. just fixing up the walls, mending the shattered beacon, rebuilding the high-speed rail network tubbo constructed from her kitchens to the apartments - tubbo's been nursing some thoughts on the place ever since their impromptu stay, and ranboo's been awfully curious about the city since their return, and frankly michael's missed the novelty of the underground -

it’s not all right. they don’t wear caution well, never have. but part of her still sings, they asked. they know how important niki’s city is to her, watched her heart be ripped out and strewn across the floor, like every handful of dirt - and they asked.

so the syndicate (and associates) find themselves a new hobby.

techno hauls debris up the staircase, dragging out broken chunks of walkways and rails as the others carry stacks of wooden planks down them. tommy throws himself into the thick of it, helping out wherever an extra hand is needed - the two of them almost trip each other up a few times, but they make it work. tubbo is in charge of the redstoning, setting up some complex kind of security system of tripwires and lights and pistons, so that next time niki needs to lock someone out, she can. iron is embedded in the walls of the city, along with long threads of redstone, like a shield built into every cave and cavern.

he also makes a valiant effort to supercharge a furnace for niki’s bakery. it doesn’t work like that, which she politely explains to him after he and tommy almost set the place on fire with their attempt at korova cookies - but michael does snack on a few of them that least resemble chunks of charcoal, and he seems quite pleased with their efforts. she appreciates the gesture, anyway, and then very kindly and very definitively sends them out of the kitchen until it is absolutely done being rebuilt.

ranboo takes it upon themself to piece the library back together. restoring books comes strangely easily to them, as wilbur hovers over their shoulder offering both unsolicited approval and advice and as they gossip with shy in a mixture of warbles and clicks. altogether, they’ve only missed a couple - and not that niki minds, not when she sees the lovely decorations and lamps that he and phil have carved from shroomlights.

tommy's supposedly in charge of the animals, balancing bowls of water and birdseed through the newly-planted pines for meowth and stubbornly hacking at the stone until he can make a nice little slope for wobbuffet to walk down, leading right into a stable cosy with the smell of hay and sugarcubes. michael fingerpaints a mural across the side of the stable as they all work, a beautiful scene in the brightest colours of a farm and a forest and turtles sitting on a snowy shoreline. that earns him a big cuddle from niki, and when she looks over at tubbo - acting first, thinking second, like she's coming to accept that she just does - he looks almost at ease in a way she hasn't seen in a long time.

phil presses another totem of undying into her hand when the others aren’t looking. he wants to give her the chance to stretch her wings again, but he wants her to stay safe.

wilbur, doing a poor job of hiding his contribution behind his back as they loiter in phil’s cabin, swears up and down it's not a flag (as techno, sitting at the kitchen table, loudly questions what he thinks a flag is, then) and presents a banner in pale shades of white and purple - spotted with the shaky outlines of wildflowers and ender particles for shy. he says it's a mock-up, something niki can sew up properly later if she likes. she hangs it, with all of its messy, dropped stitches, above the doorway of her bakery.

it isn't safe, not anymore. and in the state she's recovering from, niki doesn't know if she can call the city home either.

but finally, she feels like it's more than just hers.

—

and after all this happens, niki knows exactly what she has to do next. it takes a while to find him, but she manages it.

this time, she has to take an entire picnic basket with her - and it's a damn far way to lug the thing, especially when she hasn't quite gotten the hang of using a trident with finesse and speed. a veritable stack's worth of radiation treatment potions weigh her down, along with a marbled coffee-and-cinnamon cake wrapped in wax paper.

jack does not look pleased to see her. he looks like hell, to be honest – dark circles beneath his eyes, too-thin, skin pale and sallow like he hasn’t been outdoors enough in too long. but he doesn’t turn her away, either. and in a world like this, that means just as much.

he lets her in, and this time, niki does not intend to leave without him.

#and you caused it tag #my fics #my art #its DONE !! well i am proud of myself :D #theres a lot i could say about this chapter but im so tired so im just gonna go. rainduo old friends new friends forever. and goodnight <3

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fromchaostocosmos · 11 months ago

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I feel both the need to talk about and inform the blatant antisemitism and misinformation that was in Dead Domain's most recent live stream The Fever Dream Stream - Epstein Video Game, AI Art, Benny Johnson, TheQuartering, and Steven Segal

The part that I was able to catch live I did my best to try in the live chat to point out the antisemitism going on, the misinfo about Judaism both being talked about in gospel and via old testament and how those two thing are very antisemitic, about the problem with how she was using Pharisees and her tone when saying that, and more.

I had been subscribed to Dead Domain, but I unsuscribed because of that livestream.

Using Christian textual understandings and Christian readings in regards to the Old Testament to prove that Old Testament is super anti-abortion is so not okay, repeatedly using Pharisee and in a negative especially in comparison to Jesus is disgusting, having to catch yourself because you almost say they wanted to nail him to cross in regards to Pharisee and Jesus is telling, calling the people at the Temple scammers and cheats is revolting, there was so much more.

The irony of all this is that Dead Domain just put out a video not to long ago on antisemitism that was praised. This is what we Jews talk about and mean when we say you might not be Christian anymore, you might an atheist but you still use Christian rhetoric, you still have that Christian antisemitism baked in that you haven't worked on. That culturally Christian we bring up and discuss.

And because I do not want misrepresent and/or misquote anything Dead Domain said. As well as because I think it is so important that everyone is able to see it for themselves I am to add the video on this post. Not the whole thing because it covers so many topics and almost 4 hours and 30 min long which if want to watch you can here.

I'm just going to add the part of the video that is relevant to what I was discussing though it will be long in its own right.

I don't know if worked, but the relevant sections to listen to in whole are from 2:05:07 to 2:49:42

Again I remind that these takes are all born from deeply rooted Christian antisemitism.

#leftist antisemitism #christian antisemitism #antisemitism #i don't even know any more #i tried my best

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moodr1ng · 16 days ago

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around christmas is always a hard time for me bc it highlights my lack of closeness w my family members. finding literally any gift for my dad is always a struggle, though honestly i mostly blame him for that, because he closes himself off into a very limited range of interests and is so judgmental of everything else that you cant really get him anything but the couple things he approves of. my mom is difficult for similar reasons, though admittedly a bit easier to find gifts for because theres at least a handful of things she likes. but then theres my sisters... the younger one has a wishlist we all can pick from, so that at least makes sure shes not disappointed, but also... without the wishlist, im not sure what id get her. i just dont have that strong of a grasp on what shes into, and because shes a teen her interests change year by year. but sure, i could probably find something based on the few constants - she likes dainty gold jewelry, stim toys, and stuff for baking and making drinks, thats always reliable if predictable.

and then theres my older sister. and its like. i know she likes journalism because Thats Her Job, and there are a few things that come from that that make sense (i know she likes to read and shes interested in progressive political theory and journalism jokes), and i know she LOVES the tour de france, which i cant even rely on anymore bc everyone gets her tour de france stuff so at some point any such gift just means "i didnt know what to get you". and then .. what? we havent lived together since she was 17 and i was 12. she was into the cure as a teenager, i guess! what does she like now? what music does she listen to, what books does she read, what events does she attend when its not about her job? i dont know. she lives halfway around the world and i see her two days a year maybe, and i have no idea who she is outside of that sibling bond we share. i have this sort of.. idea of the person she is inside, of her values and personality in a vacuum, but i dont know her in her place in the world. we communicate through whatsapp and i speak to her less than my dad, which feels pretty shitty. so every year when its time for gifts i just... i dont know.

and sure part of it is i find it humiliating to not get someone a good gift. but what truly comes out of it is that i dont know my own sister, that i dont know how to know her. that i feel like thats my fault for not putting in the effort. for not being good enough of a sibling for her to reach out much either. and theres that thing in my mind, you know, where its like.. our younger sister knows her much better. they talk much more. she comes to france for our younger sisters birthday even when she doesnt come for christmas (and yes, ive noticed that shes never thought to come for my birthday, and i know she cant, i know shes very busy and those birthdays are only 2 months apart and our younger sister is a teen so her birthday would take precedent either way -- but i dont think its actually about all that, i think its more just that shes never really considered doing that whole trip for me). so i always end up there: sure, she likes me, probably she does love me, and i know she struggles to understand me quite a bit and would like to, and i dont want to blame her. but i always come back to: i just dont think she sees us as siblings the way she sees her and our younger sister as sisters. i just dont feel like i matter to her the same way our sister does. and it makes sense; were not blood-related, and sure we were raised together for a part of our childhood, but certainly not all of it, and we have a half-sister in common, but at the end of the day... in many other families we wouldnt be considered siblings at all. she would be "my ex-stepfathers daughter" or "my half-sisters half-sister". and i think its right there unspoken under all of our relationship that she just doesnt really see me as her sibling, not truly. and i wonder: is she trapped pretending? does she wish she didnt have to act like im her brother? am i the only one wishing our relationship was closer? all these years, have i been holding up this end of the phone line, beating myself up for not having anything to say, hoping to reignite the relationship - not knowing that the line is dead and she hung up years ago?

#97 #long post #made a google doc listing the ppl i get gifts for; their interests; and general gift ideas #and i just couldnt find much of anything for her which blows

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cursed-elo-images · 1 year ago

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HEY EVERYONE I NEED TO POST ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA INCORRECT QUOTES ON HERE BECAUSE THE WORLD NEEDS THEM!!!

The website I generate these from are none other than the lovely https://perchance.org/incorrect-quote-generator, whose quotes come from user suggestions, Tumblr, Twitter, and bash.org (the sources that aren’t user suggestions were pretty early and they take quotes from user suggestions now just to clarify) and I’ve been having the time of my life making them.

Also, as a heads up I’m only posting SFW ones.

And so I’ll edit this post whenever i generate new ones and copy and paste them into my documents and choose the ones I want to post. I know that with incorrect quotes from any fandom, people like to post multiple posts of one quote or a handful of them wherever they post them from and I’d like to do that, it’s not a bad idea, I just like to collect them all in a large mega post.

UPDATE: this no longer applies to this post. I’m not making it a mega post anymore, because it’s too confusing for me and I’ll be like “okay so if this the original mega post or is this the first reblog or the third reblog or the tenth reblog—“ and it just looks better with multiple posts of a collection of different quotes.

SO WITH THAT BEING SAID—here they are!!!

Melvyn, talking to Mik: Well Mik, whenever I’m about to do something, I think ‘would Hugh do that?’ and if he would, I do not do that thing.

Mik: …

Hugh, from the distance: He’s not wrong though!

Melvyn: The first time I ever got upset in front of Hugh, he put his arms around me and it was so awkward that I had to ask him if he was hugging me or reaching for something on the shelf behind me.

Hugh: I was doing both, for your information.

Mik: The first time Hugh hugged me, it was such a disaster we didn’t make eye contact for, like, a week after.

Melvyn: When I was a kid, Hugh told me that the paper strip that’s in the chocolate kisses were edible and I ate them with the chocolate for a year.

Mik: They are!

Melvyn: FOR REAL?

Mik: No! Why did you fall for it again?

Mik: They made Melvyn cry!

Hugh: Melvyn always cries!

Melvyn: That's not true! *cries*

Richard, setting down a card: Ace of spades.

Jeff, pulling out an Uno card: +4.

Kelly, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you!

Bev, trembling: What are we playing?!

Richard: Are you laughing at that video of Bev and Jeff fighting?

Kelly: No.

Kelly: I'm laughing at the comments.

*The Squad is at Jeff’s house*

Melvyn : Ohhhh we each get our own oven?

Jeff: …N-No…

Jeff, laughing: How many ovens do you think I have???

Melvyn , motioning to the kitchen: Three, I thought!

Richard: I see a-

Jeff, motioning to one device: This is a microwave.

Melvyn : Oh, well I-

Jeff: Hey, wait wait, actually- hang on- *fiddles with the buttons on the microwave*

Jeff, amazed: Its got a bake setting!

Hugh: Ohoho, you learn something new every day!

Bev: Do we- Do we roshambo for who gets to pick first?

Jeff: Now I’ve discovered more ovens than I thought, we don’t have to roshambo nothin’!

Jeff: I am someone who owns four ovens…

Jeff, louder and way too happy: I am someone… who owns FOUR OVENS…

Mik, pointing to another appliance: Also, the toaster oven!

Jeff:

Melvyn : Ohhh, toasty boy! Four- Five ovens!

Jeff:

Jeff, ecstatic: I AM SOMEONE WHO OWNS FIVE OVENS.

Bev: Today, Kelly took my phone, and in five minutes, he sent high resolution close-up photos of Richard to the following people: Jeff, Hugh, Mik, the neighbors, the bank, my accountant, San Diego Blood Bank, and Shake Shack's text bot.

Bev: So, did everyone learn their lesson?

Kelly: No.

Richard: I did not.

Melvyn : I may have actually forgotten one.

Jeff: Also no.

Bev: Oh good, neither did I.

Hugh: *Exhausted sigh*

Hugh: We’re kind of missing something guys.

Kelly: Cohesion?

Richard: Teamwork?

Bev: A general sense of what we’re doing?

Mik: And Jeff is not here.

Kelly: Oh, and that, yeah.

*The Squad is playing Chess*

Hugh: *easily beats everyone because he knows how to play*

Kelly: *doesn’t know the rules, but wins anyway*

Bev: *doesn’t know the rules, and loses*

Mik: *knows the rules, but still loses to those who don’t*

Jeff: Actually, you can’t do that, because I said so.

Melvyn : They named a board game after cheese?

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups*

Richard, Bev, and Melvyn : *spinning a little and talking*

Jeff, Hugh, and Kelly: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

Richard: Did you bring Jeff?

Kelly, gesturing to Hugh: No, but I brought the next best thing.

Richard: Hugh? The next best thing would be Bev.

Hugh: I would be offended, but Bev is freakishly strong.

Melvyn: Hugh, I have a question.

Hugh: What is it, Melvyn?

Melvyn: What color is an orange?

Hugh: Melvyn, you bonehead! Its color is the same as its name. Just like a lemon.

Hugh: Do you take constructive criticism?

Melvyn: Not without crying

Hugh, entering the room: *Sees Melvyn and leaves*

Melvyn, watching Hugh leave: There’s my monthly dose of Hugh…

Hugh: PEASANT. I REQUIRE SUSTENANCE.

Melvyn: You know there are other ways to say you want McDonalds.

Hugh: FOUL PLEBEIAN. YOU DARE SPEAK AGAINST ME—

Melvyn: *sigh* What do you want?

Hugh: Chicken nuggets please.

Hugh: Okay happy campers! If you were a fruit what would you be and why?

Melvyn: I'd be a tomato because no one accepts me as part of the group.

Hugh: ...

Melvyn: ...

Hugh: OKAY HAPPY CAMPERS-

Melvyn: Hugh, how could you possibly have gotten into this much trouble in one day?

Hugh: It... It didn't take me the whole day…

Melvyn, dashing into the room: WHY AREN’T THE DISHES IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER?!

Hugh: …What does that even mean?!

Jeff: When you work at lush and a customer comes in and bites the soap because they think it’s cheese... this happens way more frequently than you think.

Richard: If you stopped literally presenting soap as deli food this wouldn't happen.

Jeff: Who goes into a bath store and thinks something covered in glitter is cheese?

Bev: Who goes to the store and just takes a bite from the cheese?

Bev: Jeff, gather the others. We need to have another Hugh-is-doing-something-stupid-again-and-we-have-to-stop-him-before-he-hurts-someone convention.

Melvyn: What’s your name?

Jeff, whispering to Bev: Can I tell him my real name?

Bev: No!

Jeff: I’m… Bev.

Bev, whispering to himself: The ONE TIME he gets my name right…

Melvyn: Are pigeons drones?

Hugh: What? No, I'm trying to sleep.

Melvyn: Think about it. How come you've never seen a baby pigeon? And why do you never actually see a pigeon nest? Because they're DRONES!

Hugh: *Crying* Please let me sleep…

Hugh: Do you know the best way to respond to disagreement?

Melvyn: With tears?

Hugh: No.

Melvyn: *tears up*

*The gang when they drop food on the floor*

Jeff : Aw man. *Throws it away*

Bev: Five second rule!

Hugh: Foolish germs, thinking they can stop me!? *Eats it off the floor*

Richard: *Sobs on the floor*

*when a child starts crying in public*

Mik: *tries to make the child laugh*

Kelly: *tries to play a game with the child to make them calm down*

Bev: *gives detailed instructions to the parents*

Melvyn: *cries with the child*

Richard: *ignores the child*

Hugh: *is the reason why the child is crying*

Melvyn: While I'm gone, you're in charge Richard.

Richard: Yes!

Melvyn, whispering to Hugh: You're secretly in charge, but I don't want him to feel bad.

Hugh: Obviously.

Richard: You know what bothers me? Bats. Why can bats fly?

Hugh: Not again!

Richard: No. Seriously, who gave them the right? They're mammals! Mammals walk on land, no exceptions.

Melvyn: Just wait until you hear about whales.

Richard: What now?

Hugh: I like to think of myself as a semi responsible adult here.

Richard: Melvyn is 70% of your impulse control and you know this Hugh.

Melvyn: I feel like Hugh is the more responsible one of us two though.

Hugh: We are both 70% of each others' impulse control.

Melvyn: Just two lil beasts in pinwheel hats spinning on the merry-go-round at dangerous velocities, holding each other’s hands so the other doesn’t fall off.

Melvyn: Hey, check out my Spongebob umbrella!

*Melvyn opens their umbrella while indoors*

Richard: Melvyn, that’s bad luck…

Melvyn: Chill out, Richard !

Hugh, kicking down the door: WHO SUMMONED ME?!?!

Melvyn and Richard: *screams*

Richard: Hugh isn’t answering my messages.

Melvyn: Allow me.

Richard: I tried 6 times, what makes you thi-

Hugh: *replying to message* Hello.

Melvyn: How did you even get in here?

Hugh: Richard's window! Or, as I like to call it, "Hugh's door"!

Richard: I’m closing the window.

Hugh: If you water water, it grows.

Richard: ...What.

Melvyn: He’s got a point.

Melvyn & Hugh: *Playing video games*

Richard: You guys woke up at 5:30 in the morning just to play games?

Melvyn: *silence*

Hugh: *silence*

Richard, finally figuring it out: ...You two never went to sleep, did you?

Melvyn & Hugh in shame: Yeah…

Melvyn: Richard won’t come out of his room!

Hugh: Just tell them I said something.

Melvyn: Like what?

Hugh: Anything factually incorrect.

Melvyn, shrugging: If you say so.

Richard, arriving moments later: Did you just say the sun is a PLANET?

Hugh: *Talking to Richard* Oh, hi. I didn't see you there. Welcome to my abode. I'm glad you could join me.

Melvyn: But this is my abode.

Hugh: ...

Hugh: Welcome to my abode, I'm so happy to have you, guest.

Melvyn: Why is Hugh crying?

Richard: He saw a leaf on the sidewalk and-

Hugh: IT LOOKED SO CRUNCHY!

Melvyn: Please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say-

Hugh: AND WHEN I STEPPED ON IT THERE WAS NO CRUNCH!

Melvyn: NO, NOT THAT!

Richard: Melvyn learned how to fold origami penguins from Hugh the other day. I told him, “I feel a little bad for the penguins, it’s hot here”, and the next day he put them in the fridge.

Richard: Define “dream”.

Hugh: Dream - the first thing people abandon when they learn how the world works.

Melvyn: That’s too dark!

Richard: Melvyn, I’m afraid.

Melvyn: Just stay close to Hugh.

Richard: That's why I’m afraid.

Melvyn: I’m telling you, my team is competent.

Richard: Melvyn learned how to fold origami penguins from Hugh the other day. I told him, “I feel a little bad for the penguins, it’s hot here”, and the next day he put them in the fridge.

Richard: What are you two arguing about this time?

Melvyn: They’re always using common phrases incorrectly!

Hugh: Cry me a table, Melvyn.

Melvyn: Ladies, gentlemen and Hugh, I want to show you the greatest thing your eyes have ever beheld!

Richard: A llama?

Melvyn: No.

Richard: A baby llama?

Melvyn: No!

Richard: A baby llama with a little hat on?

Melvyn: NO!

Richard: Melvyn, what are you doing?

Melvyn: Making chocolate pudding.

Richard: It's four in the morning, why are you making chocolate pudding?

Melvyn: Because I've lost control of my life.

Melvyn: Here's your pudding, Hugh.

Hugh: Oh that's okay, I'm not hungry anymore.

Richard: Yesterday, I overheard Melvyn saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Hugh replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life.

Melvyn: You ever see something that changes your life and you're just like "huh.."

Richard: I saw you.

Melvyn: Honestly that's so cute and sweet but it kinda makes this awkward because I was gonna show you a picture of Hugh in a turkey costume.

Melvyn: *lifting weights*

Hugh: Wow… He’s so intense!

Richard: I wonder what drives him.

Melvyn, internally: Oh I am going to be SO good at giving hugs.

Richard to Melvyn: First rule of battle, little one... don’t ever let them know where you are.

Hugh, shooting out of frame: WHOO-HOO! I’M RIGHT HERE! I’M RIGHT HERE! YOU WANT SOME O’ ME?! YEAH YOU DO! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAH! Whoo-hoo!

Richard: 'Course, there’re other schools of thought.

Hugh: *sneaking in through his window*

Richard: *turning in his chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Hugh: I was with Melvyn?

Melvyn: *turning in his chair* Wanna try again?

Melvyn: Three of the four elements are represented as types of hockey. Air hockey, ice hockey, and field hockey. Fire hockey needs to be a thing.

Richard: Fire hockey absolutely does NOT need to be a thing.

Hugh: Do you care NOTHING for the balance of the four elements?!

Richard, trying to impress Melvyn: I re-initialized the entire command structure, retaining all programmed abilities but deleting the supplementary preference architecture.

Hugh: He turned it off and back on again.

Hugh: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Richard?

Richard: No.

Melvyn: I do!

Hugh: I know, Melvyn.

Melvyn: I’m sad.

Hugh: I know, Melvyn.

Hugh: Go ahead, Melvyn. Let it out, cry. If you don't, your tear ducts will get blocked up, and then when you get old, you won't be able to cry.

Richard: Just when we thought it was safe to let you back into the conversation.

Melvyn: Last night I found out Hugh is a sleep talker.

Richard: Oh, really?

Melvyn: "The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell." Right. In. My. Ear. At 3am.

Hugh: Hey, do you know anyone who can teach me to play the trumpet?

Richard: Why?

Hugh: I want to wander around playing it to annoy Melvyn.

Richard: Technically, you don’t actually need to know how to play the trumpet well for that.

Hugh: Richard, you have opened my eyes.

#electric light orchestra #hugh mcdowell #melvyn gale #jeff lynne #bev bevan #mik kaminski #richard tandy #kelly groucutt #incorrect quotes #incorrect elo quotes

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fineapplequeen · 2 years ago

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Has anyone ever written or drawn Geno x Cross? Hear me out-

Both have lost everything and everyone theyve ever known, have been in isolation, they get eachother. To a point at least. Speaking drabble, just imagining them meeting some way (outside of the underverse). Maybe Nightmare's got them both under his thumb idfk, but they meet and get to know each other wearily, finding they have more in common, sharing happier stories they have to stray from the more depressive ones.

Geno's pretty touchy about the scar across his chest, and Cross about his locket and history behind it- I imagine Geno and Cross having hard days finding the motivation to do anything at all, just the feeling of hopelessness and anxiety of past feelings of being stuck in one place resurfacing, and the two seeking eachother out for comfort, huddling under blankets and holding, squeezing each others hands to reassure themselves that they aren't alone anymore. I think they'd lend their shoulders to eachother to cry on too, weeping tears they didn't know they had in them anymore, mourning over the lives they could have lived.

I think Geno (timeline wise) is older than Cross, more experienced and hardened, so the first time he breaks in front of Cross is a whole scene, lot's of "I'm sorry"s and his magic just burning him up from the inside, making him feel miserable- and Cross is just fumbling, coaxing Geno close and holding him tight, afraid that the fragile soul Geno has is gonna dust from his hopelessness, man, I imagine Cross just holding Geno, rocking with him on the floor, dizzy and scared but trying to remain strong and offer comfort, telling him a couple of jokes when the crying dies down and offering Geno food, still worried about his soul- and they make something to eat together... and Cross burns it- it cheers Geno up though and Geno offers to show Cross how to bake instead.

I want some sweet moments and scary where they find it harder and harder to keep eachother out of their heads and scary finding out that they've opened their hearts to someone again- and terrified that its possible to lose someone again, not knowing if they could stand another heart ache like that.

Anyways

#undertale au #cross sans #geno sans #cross x geno #rairpair #drabble #i want them to kiss too #maybe just a little #or like a lot of kisses where they feel butterflies and say sorry after #i want them all flustered and scared hahaha #anyways

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phantomphangphucker · 2 years ago

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Phic Phight - Conspiracy? More Like Consp-idiocy

For: @crowswithize

This is just me taking a piss on extremist conspiracy theorist and how they fuck everything up for everyone else. (Looking at you anti-vaxers)Dan just needed a chink in the shield to bring the whole thing down, and human stupidity was the best kind of chink. Desiree has just… given up.

Desiree considered herself one of the lucky ones, lucky in that she could easily hide and could get protection under the livings shield. However, she was unlucky in the way that she was currently stuck in a damn lamp/vase again and bored.

Someone would rub it or drop it eventually. Some moron -usually a child or a man- always did.

And sure as shit, some man did.

Apparently the fool was trying to find out if her current vase-based prison had uranium to have proof against the Russians for bribing some living politician and ‘bring her down for treason’.

Russia didn’t even exist anymore. The fool. And of course he was trying to ‘bring down’ a woman; fucking men.

“See! What did I tell you. Green! And Russian”.

She’s not going to bother pointing out that ectoplasm glowed green too, who would think a white porcelain vase was uranium anyways? Either way she stretches out dramatically, “I am Desiree, tell me, boy, what is your wish?”.

He points aggressively at her, “Russian spy!”.

She glares, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut, “no, you fool. I’m a genie”, putting on a sickly sweet smile, “one who can grant your every desire, should you wish it”.

“Then I wish you weren’t Russian”.

He… he looks like he thinks he just pulled a ‘gotcha’ card… She still snaps her fingers -she is so not wasting her time arguing about her heritage with some man- but of course nothing changes; she’s getting a migraine already.

The boy next to the absolute dunce sticks up a finger and stammers, “m-maybe we sho-should get her to, uh, save us? Maybe? Heh”.

Even if that was a wish, she wasn’t quite that powerful; that monster wouldn't be destroyed with one simple wish. Such unacceptable defiance from a man.

The idiot looks like he just got a great idea though, slapping a fist in the palm of his hand, sounding giddy, “oh! Yes! Russian or not and maybe sent by leprechauns-”.

What.

“-I wish-”.

Oh thank The Ancients, let this be something she can actually work with.

“-to be freed from this microwave dome and taken to whoever’s fighting to destroy the lizard girl in Red’s deep state plans”, waving a finger around, “the creature says it’s protecting us with its psychic electric fireflies, but I know a false flag operation when I see one and I will not be baked into a soufflé!”.

What.

The teen freaks a little, waving his hands around, “Dude! What the fuck! No! Outside is bad!”.

“Oh don’t let them fool you with their plotting. This is MKUltra’s Jonestown experiment all over again, but with microwave signals”.

Desiree stares a little before facepalming, oh what the heck this world didn’t deserve to keep existing if this is what the living are like now. If this colossal fool wants an express trip to his own death, he can have it.

She swirls her hand and away the two men go.

Outside of the shield.

Directly into the monster's path.

How… how are men this fucking STUPID.

---

Dan tilts his head at a sudden sense of ectoplasmic energy followed by a more sudden appearance of two living heartbeats. He’s a little curious how they got here, but he’s not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

He has been a little goddamn bored after all, and beating around some flesh sacks was welcome entertainment.

And then he can hear them talking and…

Alright.

Okay.

Dan thinks he can be forgiven for dropping the whole ‘evil’ thing for a second here. Because this fucker.

This blue-eyed, pink-haired, shitty-overpriced-latte-drinking, fucker right here.

Doesn’t believe the moon exists.

Yes he was planning to kill the man. Probably the same tired way he killed most unimportant, unnotable, morons that left that stupid fucking shield. But now this fucker is walking around ranting to some kid -who he clearly dragged out with him and who looks justifiably and satisfyingly scared shitless- about how the moon was just ‘a projection of a piece of stale cheese put up there as false proof the earth was round’ and how he could ‘prove it now that they were free from the microwaves’.

Dan almost doesn’t want to kill the bastard now. Someone this glaringly and blatantly stupid might be more useful; or at least fun with mess with. So Dan decides to fly/crash down hard enough to leave a crater in the ground, being a dramatic little shit made everything more entertaining. Standing up with a nasty smirk, he points vaguely at the crater, “there’s lots of craters on the moon. Guess I must have made them then”.

Pink-haired idiot McGee actually nods enthusiastically. Like Dan’s comment made an ounce of logical sense inside his pea brain. This moron doesn’t even have the smarts to be scared. The other dude though... Dan can practically see the teens life flashing before said teens eyes. Meanwhile, the moronic fuck nugget snaps his fingers at Dan; earning a quirked eyebrow from the ghost. “Exactly! You’re the kinda guy who looks like he makes a living punching all those holes in Swiss cheese. You know, before the giants shrink it so they can sell it to us”, waving his hand around, “eh it’s probably the only way they can get funding to use against the leprechaun mafia”.

What.

The teen had started slowly walking backwards, back towards the safety of the stupid fucking shield, while numbnuts had been speaking. And Dan had let him. Because seriously.

This brand of stupid was worth savouring. Killing the teen would probably fuck up said savouring, since the man who is probably considered an example of the definition of stupid, would be understandably and satisfyingly scared.

Dan crosses his arms, smirk only growing, because he’s officially got an idea. One that officially requires a very special brand of stupid. And lucky him! He’s got his order of ‘one moron baked extra dumb’ right the fuck here. “Oh yes indeed. Now it’s only too bad I can’t go about making any cheese deliveries with the silly shield up”, chuckling darkly, “really hard on the eyes, you know how it is”.

Turd-for-brains actually nods again. “Damn they are overworking you. Delivery and hole puncher?”. This guy must have brain damage. Dan-unrelated brain damage. Maybe whoever fucked this poor bastard up was more of a sadist than Dan was, at least Dan put people out of their -and everyone else’s- misery while also making the ground and walls that much more colourful. Blood was a very juicy shade of red you know. The dumbass actually turns away from him -killing this man wouldn’t even be enjoyable at this point. Idiot would probably think it was just a painful candy Cotten-induced hallucination or some shit- and waves his hand limply at the glowing green stupid fucking shield, “yeah leprechauns would make anyone hate that ugly colour. I mean, the lizard men could at least have some taste for their psychic electric fireflies and make them pink. I get that it’s the only way to keep the microwaves working but come on man. Not like the thing could actually be an energy shield, am I right? Half circles are obviously impossible”.

Dan resists cackling, unfortunately, the stupid fucking shield was not a ‘half circle’ since it went unground. Quirking an eyebrow, “what if it goes underground?”.

“Eh, can’t be. Seeing as we’re not at war with the mole people”.

Holy Shit.

Dan nods and hums like he agrees. Though let it be known, he doesn’t fucking agree. Why? Because he’s not a complete idiot. Sure not destroying Amity first was pretty stupid on his part, stupid lingering bits of human emotion and sentimentality, but still. “Indeed, and I can’t imagine how unpleasant it would be to get a mouth full of... fireflies”. He is only barely managing to keep the mocking disbelief out of his voice. He is not an actor. Regardless he leans forwards menacingly, “say why don’t you be a pal, cross a few wires in the firefly controlling poles the lizard men set up. You wouldn’t want anyone inside to miss out on a shipment of cheese, would you?”.

Dan would feel like he just made himself lose a few ectoplasmic Core cells after saying that load of idiotic garbage, if it wasn’t for the fact that this colossal titan of a moron actually nods. “Oh sure thing! Cheese might be made by giants as a way to fatten us up to feed their pet snakes someday, but it is delicious”.

Dan just stares at the man as he walks back through the shield. Fuck, he thinks he needs a drink -preferably drunken out of some poor saps skull- after listening to that man. Vaguely he wonders how and why none of the human meat sacks haven’t killed him with their bare hands themselves yet.

But seeing sparking coming from the pole nearest him, he cackles.

Human stupidity. One of the only things that’s got a higher body count than Dan does. And today it’s gonna finally be the catalyst for the entire species kicking the bucket in a truly spectacular fashion.

And people had thought Wes was an insane moron.

---

Desiree watches one of the shields poles spark, seeing that moron giving the monster a silly thumbs up.

This is why she hates men.

She really hates men.

But this entire planet can stuff it, these living were way to far gone; no more wishes for them. Maybe if someone starts things from scratch they’ll skip making men and idiots exist.

End.

Prompt: Desiree is ready to grant wishes and cause chaos. That is until she has to hear the stupidest wish she has ever had to grant.

#Danny Phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2023 #phandom #dan #desiree #conspiracy #idiots #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #phantomphangphucker #have a fic suck my dick

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mindsmade · 2 years ago

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Set on the countertop in Shepard's apartment is a perfectly wrapped present, red ribbon on yellow shiny paper, bow on the top. With it is a white envelope, containing a card. In neat cursive script, it reads: "Don't think I forgot about your birthday, my love. I'll call you later. -M." Inside the box, is a dress shirt in a deep, shimmery navy blue, a bottle of cologne, and a gift certificate credit chit - for Ryuusei's Sushi Bar.

Miranda may not have been the only one to remember it's his birthday, but she is the only one to have gone out of her way to reveal her investment in it. Aiden doesn't fault anyone for not having gone out of their way to treat him to a present, or to profoundly congratulate him or bake him a damned cake. It was he himself who'd made a point of not wanting any gifts. Everyone's priorities lie elsewhere, and he's happier knowing the crew's spending their time either working towards their mountainous goal, or doing whatever else they must to ensure their optimal performance. He demands no less of them. He can't.

But Miranda's not part of the crew. Not anymore. As much as he regrets that, her reasons are clear — and outside his control. Though he wishes to drop his obligation to the greater good to beat down the demons she's facing all on her own now, he can't possibly. It'd be an act more unforgivable than his absence while she fights for her life.

The thought dissolves as he reads through the note. He thumbs its top-right corner as if some remnant of her might rub off on him. In some way he can't explain ( due to sheer lack of eloquence, if nothing else ), she feels near already, however. Maybe it's the faint whiff of her perfume attached to the paper. It's enough to put a crooked smile on his face before he moves on to the yellow box. Its ribbon is uncharacteristically carefully disposed of, before the contents are revealed to him.

First he plucks out the bottle of cologne, which he samples on the inside of his wrists. Its strong scent evokes the image of an implacably demanding presence — which fits the image he has built for himself over the years just about perfectly. The shirt follows, revealing a navy reminiscent of the Alliance's shade of blue. Aiden expects that choice was just as deliberate: he's made no secret of how his past and present with the Alliance is integral to the man he is today.

In a surprisingly spontaneous move, he decides to try on the shirt, leaving the two top buttons open, and takes a quick photo of himself – holding the credit chit between thumb and forefinger – in his bathroom mirror. Said photo winds up attached to a message promptly sent Miranda's way:

/ Your taste always has been better than mine, Lawson. Thanks for the special delivery. / Take a look at your calendar before you call me. We better arrange a date to dress up and spend this chit soon. Think it's high time for some shore leave again ...

#afraidofchange #❛ thread / aiden shepard.#AAAA THIS IS SO CUTE #ok so that got long ..... i am not sorry though!!!#my man's emotional and misses his WIFE

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buckevantommy · 2 months ago

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Buck could fill a small bakery with the amount he's baked in the past few weeks. He cleaned out the flour shelf at his local corner market, used a coop's worth of eggs, pushed his mixer to the limit, and had his oven working near constantly. Every neighbor on his floor and everyone he's passed in the lobby has had a loaf of some kind left on their doorstep or politely shoved into their hands. Everyone at the station is begging him not to overload them on anymore sugar - they'll take the carb-loaded meals he makes at work but avoid Buck the moment he enters the bay doors with a basket of saran-wrapped sweet bakes.

The worst part is that it's not even working anymore. It never really distracted him enough to not want to call Tommy, just put his hands and head to use for an hour or two at a time so that he couldn't text or call.

But now there's nothing left to bake with. And Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso. And everyone has family to go home to, except for Buck. And every reason he has for not being the one to reach out first goes out the window.

After a few rings, Tommy answers with a questioning: "-Buck?" and it's a gutpunch he doesn't need today but he's already feeling like shit so the pain just gets absorbed into the rest of it.

"H-hey, Tommy." It feels good to say his name under- well, not better circumstances than addressing his broken heart, but something with a bit of tentative hope at least.

And it's good to hear his voice. The voicemails and audio notes and videos from their time together have soothed him and tormented him at different times, but hearing Tommy respond sends a pang of longing through him.

"Um. I-I, uh."

"Are you okay?"

A bitter sound trips its way out of Buck's mouth. "No. No, I-I'm not okay."

"Are you hurt?"

The urgency in Tommy's voice thrills him; he still cares. But Buck doesn't want to misrepresent himself, doesn't want to trick Tommy into caring about what he's going through.

"Guess that depends."

"On what?"

"What kinda hurt you mean."

There's an inhale across the line. "What can I do?"

Tears prick at the corners of Buck's eyes. "I just- need someone to talk to." He doesn't say: even though we're not together anymore, can we still be friends? because even though he's missed Tommy being in his life, he doesn't know if he could be just friends.

"Okay." Buck hears some rustling in the background, footsteps, background noise receding. "I'm here. Talk to me."

Tommy wants to hear what Buck has to say, he always did. So Buck talks. He tells Tommy about Eddie moving away, and Tommy listens. And when it gets too much he tells Tommy about a new niece or nephew of his on the way, and Tommy offers his sincere congratulations. And then he tells Tommy about his baking coping mechanism and Tommy quiets.

So much so that Buck checks to see if the call dropped.

"I'm on my fifth engine," Tommy admit. "I keep taking them apart and putting them back together until they work better than before. But everytime I was done I had to start again, fix another broken thing, because I couldn't fix.."

Buck takes an unsteady breath. Us. "Me."

"No," Tommy says emphatically. "I couldn't fix me. Too broken to be good enough for you."

It's a heartwrenching confession, but Buck feels a smile beneath the tears sneaking down his face. "You don't think I'm broken? Nobody stays for me, Tommy. At some point I gotta realize I'm just not someone people wanna stick around for in the long run."

"Evan.."

Buck breezes over the sound of his name in Tommy's mouth, can't dwell on how good it feels because it won't last. "Guess neither of us are forever guys, huh." His heart, bruised and battered, bleeds a little more. The tears stream freely now. He sniffles, but manages to steady his voice as he says: "I loved you. That was real."

Tommy's breath hitches. "I was a coward."

Buck nods. Cries some more. They're both fucked up.

Tommy hesitates, but then: "I'm off-shift soon. We could.."

He leaves it hanging. There's so many ways Buck could finish that sentence, most of them unbearably hopeful. He doesn't want to stay in his empty apartment anymore. "Yours?" His voice is a little wet. "Maybe I could help you with that engine."

Tommy's breath of amusement is a balm to Buck's aching heart. "You know something about vintage cars I don't?" It's teasing, and gentle, and Buck has missed this.

"Maybe. Maybe trying to do it alone is the problem."

Another breath of laughter, followed by resignation in Tommy's voice. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

Buck listens to him breathe for a moment: in, out, in..

"I'll meet you at mine."

Buck's poor heart beats a little stronger.

It was more than an hour later, of battling crosstown traffic and then letting himself into Tommy's house because Tommy had explicitly told him to use the spare key. They never gotten to the point of swapping keys. That probably should've been a step they didn't skip over. Buck's too-long legs had skipped too many for Tommy's comfort.

He pushes all thoughts of that aside. He's not perfect, he's too much, but Tommy agreed to see him. Tommy wants.. he's not sure.

Buck stands in the little living room, surveying Tommy's space while his mind spirals, heart yoyo-ing between hope and hopelessness. He doesn't know how much time passes when the front door opens and Tommy appears in the entryway.

He looks good. Tired, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by, but good. His hair is a little longer all over, and it suits him. Buck wants to tell him as much but he can't seem to say anything.

Then Tommy says, "Hey," soft and concerned and fond, a sad smile at the corners of his eyes.

And Buck's tears threaten back into his own. "Hey." His voice is watery and brittle.

Tommy's there in three strides, gathering Buck into his arms, and Buck lets himself be wrapped in an embrace. Winds his arms around Tommy and presses into his solid warmth. Breathes him in as the tears come.

He feels safe. Seen. His heart cradled in care the way his body is cradled in Tommy's arms.

Buck takes a deep, steadying inhale of Tommy's scent and pulls back enough to look him in the face. His hands loose their grip at Tommy's shirt, smoothing to palm him through the cotton.

"About that engine.."

Tommy's smile is wide enough to crinkle his eyes in that way Buck loves, with joy etched in the creases.

"I wanna help you, if you'll let me. We could make it work. Together."

Tommy's eyes glisten. His smile breaks into a grin. "I'd like to try that."

buck probably called tommy every chance he got when they were together. driving home from work and stuck in traffic, it’s time to call tommy and tell him about his shift. late night in bed and he’s struggling to fall asleep without him, tommy’s soft voice will lull him to sleep from the other side of the phone. both on shift and the calls had been particularly slow, he will go and sit on the roof with tommy on loud speaker and they will just talk about anything and everything.

and when buck finds out that eddie is thinking about moving back to texas, tommy is the only person who he wants to talk to about it. so he finally gives in and calls. and of course, tommy will answer.

#yes good. 😌🫶#evantommy #fixit #fanfiction #.txt

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bbael · 20 days ago

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hello !!! hi again !!! I love you !!!! I almost cry looking at those parakeets u sent in another universe i am flying to you right now to help prune your little feathers and bring you the finest millet and berries love u <333

i feel like have been gone from here so long and I probably genuinely have,, I promise I’ve thought of you every day tho and am always reminded of you :’(

& I’m good thank u !!! life has seemed so busy lately, I’ve been dying to message u but I’ve always been on the verge of falling asleep by the point I have a free minute T~T biggest news is that I’ve started a new job tho !! I ADORE it,, everyone there is so so lovely and they give me free coffees and baked goods (lately pumpkin & stilton scones & chilli-chocolate mince pies, yuuuum)

We’ve also had Guy Fawkes recently which is my absolute favourite time of the year. I’ve gone to pretty much every display across like,, three different counties bc i enjoy it so much :’) many warm crackly bonfires, fireworks, mulled cider, and toffee apples :3 although nobody seems to do the whole effigy burning thing anymore which is a shame bc i always though that was pretty metal 💀

anywho !! i hope you had a beautifully haunting spooky season, a sweet Rosh Hashanah last month, and are keeping nice and cool (?) whilst i try to stay cosy :3 hope you have been well and ur house move went amazing and all is good, do let me know ur own updates as i always love hearing about what ur up to 🥺🖤

love u endlessly and I’m always wishing you the very best of all things from the bottom of my heart 🖤🖤🖤🦇

Hiii his claud yessss finally I get to reply to your lovely ask but yeah I miss you terribly so I thought I'd dust this a bit and reach back ahah. I've read it a few times since you sent it & always trying to reply but I never have something as interesting to tell you so it's been a minute!! Nevertheless it makes me so immensely happy you've been having such a good time, and really am hoping you currently are as well.

Two things ☝️ tbh if I were your coworker id also feel inclined to shower you in pastries and cookies constantly and not only bc I love you but bc its just the natural reaction to have to an angel such as yourself hehe. Glad to hear u have been met with grace from others,, which you deserve a lot!! (Also your current(?) workplace sounds yummy ;_;)

And then, I didn't know what or who Guy Fawkes was until your ask and for a hot minute I thought it was some kind of celebrity, but then things didn't add up sjdjfk I had to look it up.... Anyhow, looks like so much fun?? And such a cozy holiday for what it is.. The cider must be especially nice and I agree with you that they should bring back burning things bc it always adds a little something to events doesn't it......

I wonder what are you up to now though!! Feel free to hmu with updates 🥹 <- guy that is begging.

I don't remember if I ever told you about how my move went in the end and all the little things about it but basically it's great and I got a job real quick (with kiddies and annoying people and that I don't really enjoy but it's money..) and I've been adapting nicely even though I miss my province like crazy. I want to go back sooooo badly it's making me feel stupid for moving in the first place. At least I got January completely off hehee..... Probably am going back to bs as for some days in the next couple weeks waa but don't wanna jinx it!!

It's nice though, now it's summer and it's desert-ish and jungle-ish here so it's hot as hell, but during the last few days of winter/early spring I did see snow and frost which is pretty sick as I'd only seen that...once before?

Also thank you so much for the Rosh Hashanah and birthday wishes omg (Im saving your birthday ask btw), tbh I don't remember what I did for either of them......

I'm hoping you're having a rly nice holiday season yourself now and keeping cozy!! I know you enjoy it and wish I was around so we could have some mixed holidays together as both Hanukkah and Xmas fall kind of on the same date haha <33 id give you sufganiyot and you'd share whatever you guys have for Christmas over there? Gingermen bread? Panettone? Ajdjfjr hopefully.

Whatever. Thank you so much for reaching out back and. love you more than I could ever come to express in a silly little reply so that's it. im holding u so tightly psychically, If u feel strangled it's me hugging you 🥰🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

This is us, again

#hello... I adore you...#asks

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thefinancialindependanceofducks · 1 month ago

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I was looking at a wine opener and this guy came up who i thought was genuinley intrested in it. he started asking me a bunch of questions like where im from and i tried to get on with him. I felt really vulnerable today and i feel like if I hadnt been maybe i would have caught on to the way he was acting a bit quicker. he did take advantage of my niceness though and he kept pushing my boundaires like stepping too close to me and repeatedly asking stuff about me or the wine thing. He started acting really weird and asked if i spoke english, i gave hime the benefit of the doubt and kept being polite. Then when i was looking at clothes he rushed over to me got me to dap him up and asked if my friend was gay. I said that wasnt his buisness and started to walk away. then he turned to me and said god only made man and woman no third thing and i snapped "no its a social construct" and then he went on and i walked away to pay for my stuff once i realised hes a stupid homophobe/transphobe. He proceeded to yell things about "reality" at me while i stood at the till and the old lady told him to mind his own buisness and they started arguing. after a bit of yelling from the door he left because the staff asked him to. i paid at the counter and i was so frazzled and then the lady from the shop asked if i wanted to report it. Idk what good that would do so I said no. then i left and i cried a bit. i also felt really paranoid that he would be around the corner and try to attach us or something. I also felt so unsafe but like post incident, llke he kept pointing the wine bottle opener at me and i thought he was just looking at it. I guess i felt betrayed because i was so nice to him and he just kept becoming more and more of a dick till he was yelling at me. He also hadnt a clue what the fuck he was talking about. talk about thick. if youre going to harrasss someone maybe dont be a piece of shit first of all but also know what youre actually upset about rather than trying to edge people on because youre confused and insecure. what an asshole. who does he think he is to instill his half baked religious belifs on others. i think i definetly felt a lot stronger than him though, even emotionally I was collected at least in the momment and i was kind which i cant say for him. I was the stronger one between us. i feel like im gonna feel a lot more of this or experience a lot more as i go into the future but my friend said people dont really harass her anymore except for being goth.

this is fucked and i hated it but its over and i was strong. i am strong. i reacted well appropriatley and not everyone is going to be like this. I guess what can help in future is trying to be a bit more perceptive and maybe not talking to people if i feel vulnerable.

#tw harassment #tw homophobia #tw transphobes

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starlit-mansion · 2 years ago

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🎹 for malcolm!

Oh, Malcolm is suuuuch a hobbies guy. If he doesn't do things with his hands, he WILL start chewing on the drywall.

First and oldest is just regular drawing, which he never really got exceptional at, but he still does, and is technically a useful work skill, though not his primary one (his business partner was always a much better artist and designer). He first got a drawing tablet for his laptop in the mid 2000s and keeps getting new ones every time he upgrades, and at least a couple times a year he will end up drawing something, even if it's just a plan for project or a shitty layout to explain to an artist he's commissioning what he wants. Sometimes he will also draw for his friends, and considers his own skills pretty embarrassing compared to what everyone else is capable of, but they always treasure it.

He used to be a big reader as a child but not in a... healthy way. More of a "I do not want to be here and this is the closest i can get to leaving" way. He does read at least a handful of books every year, usually ones his best friend recs, because she loves to gloat when someone likes a books she recs, and she's nailed down that his favorite genre is slightly comedic sci-fi and can usually come up with something new he's never heard of before he falls back to rereading hhg or something. He's read a lot of classics in his lifetime and at this point in his life, he is determined to never read another one.

He also likes tinkering with machinery, especially cars. It took ages for him to get a hobby car, and he mostly lucked into it from knowing a guy who does custom paint jobs who knew a guy looking to liquidate a car for a lot of cash but still much less than it was technically worth, and now he has a classic hot rod to fuss over and only occasionally drive. It's a huge waste of money and he couldn't be more pleased about owning it.

Sewing, and particularly costuming, is another big one... At first it was just a practical thing, because there were only so many things they could outsource while scraping everything together to open the park, and it seemed pertinent and he was willing to muscle his way through learning how to sew an awning or hem a curtain. At this point, he's quite good, and does all the bespoke costumes, repairs and replacements over the winter off-season, as well as personal sewing projects like making accessories and alterations, and fursuit stuff (which stemmed from learning how to make anthro costumes from scratch and then became an interest of its own. He goes to a few cons a year now.)

At some point, quite early in his first marriage, he took a baking class, and to justify it, got into the habit of baking bread regularly. it was a good skill to have when money was tight, and also enough of a productive process that it could be used to self-soothe once it wasn't strictly practical anymore. also, fun tip for people with social anxiety: you can show up to events with baked goods and people will like you more and want to talk to you.

#that last one was a bit of wisdom passed to me at a podcast convention in 2012 and served me well at open mics #where people were quite happy to see that i was there if i brought several dozen cookies. *taps forehead*

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high-queen-of-exy · 2 years ago

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Would love some general Andrew headcanons, also if you have headcanons about specifically the Twinyards-and-Nicky dynamic while the twins were in high school would love to hear those

I woke up to like 3 asks omg I was very, very happy

First of all, Andrew is a fun example or "looks like he could kill you, would rather eat ice cream, but definitely could if provoked" and I think it's very fun

even when he isn't at palmetto, like when he's living in different cities and traveling a lot for his pro games, he still calls Bee twice a week

sometimes with Aaron if they're having issues, which by then are rarer but still happen, cus siblings

the only other people he bothered to keep in touch with are Kevin and Renee

She bullied him into getting a tattoo of his own, its a dagger with thorny roses around it, all monochrome, on his forearm, he gets it after his senior year, its wonderful, Kevin told him it was great and Andrew almost smiled at him

on the topic of smiling, he doesn't often, but when he does, he has a crooked smile, and its mostly teeth, and Neil loves it

The twins and Nicky because YES (I'm pulling these outta my ass rn, but know that I adore this)

First and foremost, both of them pretended not to know Nicky at any point in time ever. Mainly because they're both edgelords and here is their nice and flamboyant cousin, and they didn't want it to damper the vibes (y'know, of hostility and trauma)

In all honesty, it was mostly Aaron. I keep to my idea that he was actually pretty well-liked in high school before he met Andrew. he was always pretty quiet, but he was smart, and he didn't put up with anyone's bullshit, he'd get into arguments often, but if you weren't a dick then neither was he.

He stopped talking almost entirely after his mom died, both because of all the complicated feelings that brought, and because Andrew said he couldn't have friends anymore

Andrew showed up and immediately scared the shit out of everyone, so really, Aaron would've probably lost most of his friends regardless of this

Nicky can't cook, and these boys lived off of takeout or whatever Aaron made out of their scarce groceries

also, Aaron is the only one who CAN cook

(Andrew bakes!!!)

Tilda taught him, mostly cus she didn't wanna do it

Tilda was a forbidden name

as was Luther, Aaron mentioned him only once before Nicky got so red in the face trying not to cry that it just... wasn't

Nicky would have several meltdowns aver raising them, though never in front of them. They knew though

He's also the reason, or the final shove at least, that made Andrew forcibly get Aaron clean. Andrew was sick of Nicky feeling guilty about it

Anyways, yeah, the Andrew, some Nicky, and Twinyards, enjoy because everything about their whole thing makes me sad

#andrew minyard #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #aftg hc #aftg headcanon #all for the game #aftg #twinyards #minyard twins #neil josten #kevin day #renee walker #betsy dobson

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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

harmless (vi)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: BUCKY BARNES IS BACK AND HAS A CONFIRMED PERSONALITY

also omg everyone who’s been sending me ideas- ur the lomls.

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Your place or mine? ;)

He stares at the text.

The right answer is mine. See you at the lair.

“Y’all are dating now?” Clint peeks over his shoulder.

“Fuck no,” Bucky says indignantly. “God forbid.”

“Okay, man,” he retracts, giving Bucky space to turn around and face him. “What do you want to call your mini dates then?”

“Missions,” Bucky corrects him.

“No one wants to go on a mission. You volunteered to go back there.”

“It’s for the good of the tristate area.”

“I bet.” The snort he lets out contradicts his words. “Whole world is depending on you, Barnes. Go save them from the treachery of your crush.”

“Enemy.”

“Girlfriend.”

“Mortal nemesis.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “Go further, I dare you.”

“What are you gonna do? Choke me? Punch me with your metal arm?” Clint cranes his neck. “Bring it, big boy. I’m not scared of some kinky shit.”

He hates living here.

The door is left open for him.

This time, even though the lair is still illuminated by the green light out in the front, there’s a minor change. Sunlight streams in through a skylight in the roof.

There’s a ladder there, leaning against the rim. It gives him an entrance to the roof, which, judging by the lack of any other presence in the lab, is where he’s supposed to go.

As he gets closer he notices there’s a note on one of the rungs.

‘Evil’ with an arrow pointing upwards.

He rolls his eyes, discarding it on the floor before swiftly scaling the steps.

“Ah, Mr. Barnes,” he hears your voice call out even before his head pops up above the surface. “We’ve been expecting you.”

He pauses, looking around. “Who’s with you?”

Because other than the gigantic machine pointed up towards the sky, there’s only you with a visor and sunglasses. The best way he can describe its design was that it was shaped like a pine cone, had a large antenna pointed towards the sky, two handlebars near its base to manoeuvre it with a large button in between them.

“Just imagine I have my henchmen with me,” you urge. “I’m on a budget, man, I can’t afford them yet. Maybe when my cloning machine finally works-”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s a James Bond reference,” you add when he doesn’t show any signs of answering.

“Haven’t watched it yet.” Bucky shrugs. “We’re doing Star Trek right now.”

“You’re done with Star Wars?” you, receiving a nod in confirmation. “Nice. You’d find the spy shit ridiculous anyway, it’s way below your level.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He makes a mental note to add the Bond movies to the list.

“Speaking of stars,” you begin, gesturing to the machine. “I’m going to harness the power of the sun.”

“For what?” He doesn’t bother asking how, he already knows you’ve figured out something.

“There’s a science exhibition and my team’s stupid solar car experiment isn’t working and I need it for them to win.”

“So build a better one.”

“No, ours is the best and if Jeff and his stupid baking soda volcano beat us then we’re going to have a murder on our hands.”

“Your hands,” he emphasises. He has nothing to do with this.

“I said what I said, boy.” You glare at him. “This is our problem now.”

“How much power are you taking?” If it’s insignificant enough, it wouldn’t matter much. He thinks.

“The whole thing.”

He laughs. He stops when you don’t.

“You’re taking all the energy of the sun to power your shitty science model.”

“Your face is a shitty science model,” you mimic him in a higher pitched voice. “I will do anything to win.”

He wonders which grade kid you stole that insult from was in. There’s no way they were anything older than 13. He could use it on Steve, maybe.

“Everyone on Earth will die.” He feels the need to remind you, even though there was no way it was actually going to take place. Eat shit, Clint. This superseded the tristate area.

“Not for eight minutes.” You look at your watch. “And, if Jeff dies then I win by default.”

“You’ll die too,” he points out.

“I’ll die a winner.” You nod seriously as if that makes it better.

He’s not that worried. Experience tells him that you’re not a mass murderer willingly.

“You’ll die an idiot.”

“Only if you don’t stop me.” Your lips curve into a smile. “And how will you when I do this?”

You yank the machine to point towards him and slam the button. His hand reflectively pulls in front of him to defend himself. Something hits him with enough force to send him skidding backwards slightly.

He removes his hand carefully from in front of him, looking at you.

Something feels off.

“You just-”

The knives strapped to his thighs suddenly feel heavier.

“Took your powers?” you finish his thought. “Yeah.”

He feels his body tip towards his left. He’s suddenly very aware of the weight of the arm. Had it been this heavy all this while?

“You’ve barely changed,” you noted, “You’re just regular Bucky but like, 20% less beef.”

After all, he was a boxer when he was a teen. One of the best men the Howling Commandos had even before the serum.

His shoulder feels heavier though. And somehow he thinks he’s sensing things a little less. He can’t really hear the faint buzzing of the generator downstairs anymore.

“Yep, that’s real muscle.” He turns when you poke at his shoulder. He doesn’t know when you got there. “You’re like a modern day Schwarzenegger. Grade A beefcake.”

He can’t see the construction site near the horizon as clearly as he used to.

Something about this situation makes him feel like he’s going to have a midlife crisis, even though he’s overshot the age by a huge number. No one has a midlife crisis at 106.

��Now that we’ve established that this works,” you say, back near the machine again. When did you walk there? “Let’s show this bitch that I’m the brightest star allowed in this solar system.”

He shakes his head to jolt himself awake, shoves aside his mental dysfunction and breaks out into a sprint when you pull the device down to aim it at the sky.

He latches onto the side, using his left hand to pull himself up, straddling the machine.

“Excuse me,” you exclaim like it’s a minor inconvenience and he feels the machine sway wildly under him. “You’re weighing it down, get off my inator.”

You’re shooting recklessly, trying to shake him off. It’s not dissimilar to the mechanical bull Natasha made him ride during a mission down south so she could win money off placing bets on him. They had lobster that night.

He reaches down to its side, hoping to feel maybe a panel he can rip off. He finds nothing.

He hopes none of the rays are actually hitting anything. It’s a little harder to stay on than he’d imagined it would be, and he thinks that maybe this wasn’t the best plan.

He changes his mind in a split second, swinging himself over so that he can climb the underside of the machine like a monkey bar. He feels like a fucking insect. How was Peter not mortally embarrassed?

He factors in the fact that his hands are getting clammier and his grip is slipping faster than usual. Also, he can taste his lunch at the back of his throat.

“Motherfucker,” Bucky curses when his hand slips, leaving him to hold on only by his metal arm.

“You okay?” you call out, not giving him a second to recover unless he really needed it.

He lets out a grunt, swinging his arm up and catching hold of the antenna, yanking it down and towards the machine itself. He pulls himself up so that he’s straddling the machine again.

One more shot and-

“Very smart, Barnes,” you say dryly, letting go of the handles.

He sends you a sly grin before sliding down the barrel, kicking the large button with his heel right before he jumps off.

The beam shoots out, instantly meeting with metal. The device automatically gives a mechanical groan before powering down, turning off altogether.

“I hate you,” you huff, before noting his paleness. “D’you want some water? An IV maybe?”

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, inhaling heavily to catch his breath.

He’s tired, more so than he would have been under any normal circumstance. He feels a little dizzy, a little disoriented.

“Don’t worry, your magic powers will be back in a few minutes or so.” You examine the bent antenna, pressing the button and sighing when it stands there lifelessly. “Once Jeff wins, I’ll send the dry cleaning receipt to you. You can pay to get the tear stains out of the kids’ outfits.”

“Your tears or theirs?” He’s relieved about the powers returning, he thinks.

“Both, bitch.” Your eyebrow quirks at his retort. Clearly, he had more energy in him than people realised; his brain seemed to be working fine. He was stronger than you thought. Good for him.

“You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” He lets out a final exhale before standing up a little straighter.

“Thanks. It’d be better if you asked your billionaire tech genius to send us something, but okay.”

“It’s a middle school science exhibition. Make a potato battery or something.”

You tsk-tsk. “No points for creativity, Mr. Barnes.”

It creeps into his mind without warning. He wonders if he actually wanted the powers back. Wonders what his life could be if he maybe retired, settled down. For the brief time he feels like his pre-war self, he starts to think like his pre-war self.

“I’m not the one who’s about to lose to a baking soda volcano,” he finds time to respond, however.

“Your face is a baking soda volcano.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I will not lose.”

“You’re running out of time. Chop chop.”

But the thought hits him. Who is Bucky without his super soldier serum? If he doesn’t have his powers then he can’t think of what use he is to the Avengers.

Who the hell is Bucky if he can’t provide a service to others? How else does he make up for being himself?

His, what he’s now deemed, afterlife crisis is starting to look more apparent.

He compartmentalises and stores it away in a box. He’ll bring it up with his therapist later.

“I’m going to win and then you’ll be sorry you weren’t a part of it because you didn’t let me steal the sun.”

“If you win, I’ll still be glad I didn’t let you.” He climbs back down the ladder, feeling the ache in his muscles reduce with every passing minute.

True to your word, his powers do return a while later.

And while he’s watching Avatar: The Last Airbender with Peter in the living room two days later, his phone beeps with a text.

It’s a picture of a blue first place ribbon next to a toy car that looks like it’s powered by a potato battery. Beside it is an out of focus middle finger that is aimed at him.

Congratulations, he texts back. Told you potato batteries always win.

Your face always wins, he receives in return. He can’t tell if you’re insulting or flirting with him.

He just shuts his phone off and goes back to watching the show.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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gimme-mor · 3 years ago

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ACOTAR THINK PIECE: ELAIN ARCHERON, UNTOUCHABLE

*DISCLAIMER*

This will be a long post.

Please take the time to read this post in its entirety and truly reflect on the message I am trying to send before commenting. My goal is to use my background in Gender and Women’s Studies to deconstruct the comments I have seen on Tumblr and Twitter and bring awareness to the ACOTAR fandom.

The reason I am tagging “Elriel” in this post is to call attention to the arguments in the Elriel fandom that: weaponize Elain’s femalehood to shame real life people for their opinions about Elain’s character and her relationship with Lucien; victimize Elain’s character in fandom discussions; and coddle Elain’s character, which limits fandom discussions about her narrative development and prevents the ACOTAR fandom from holding Elain accountable for her actions and inactions in the same way that the fandom holds other characters accountable for their actions and inactions. It is for these reasons that I WILL NOT remove the “Elriel” tag from this post because all of the above points contribute to the toxic discourse surrounding Elain’s character.

I urge those who use these arguments to understand their implications, why they are problematic, regardless of intent, and reexamine their contributions to the ACOTAR fandom. I WILL NOT tolerate anyone who tries to twist my words and say I am attacking people and their personal shipping preferences. In fact, I AM CRITIQUING THE ARGUMENTS THEMSELVES NOT THE PEOPLE USING THE ARGUMENTS.

Also, I highly encourage the Elriel fandom to read this post because it addresses how the concept of choice as an argument enables arguments to exploit social justice and feminist languge in order to vilify Elucien shippers, among other problematic things.

Elain Archeron is one of the most polarizing characters in the ACOTAR fandom. Though opinions about Elain vary, arguments in the Elriel fandom cite society’s perception of traditional female characters in comparison to non-traditional female characters as the reason behind the hate, and this belief is used to provide an explanation as to why other characters in the series are favored over her. In the series, Elain is portrayed in a wholly positive light and this image carries over into the Elriel fandom, painting her character as a good and kind female who has been unfairly wronged and a victim of circumstances that were out of her control. When arguments in the Elriel fandom oppose other viewpoints in the fandom, they fall into one of three categories:

Category 1: Weaponize Elain’s femalehood to shame real life people for their opinions

Maybe people who hate Elain are just jealous of her in a weird way similar to when someone hates the pretty, nice, and charming girl in school just because she is too perfect

Disliking Elain is misogynistic

What happened to feminism? What happened to women supporting women? What happened to she can say no? All of that disappears the second you force Elain to be with Lucien

Elain antis are misogynistic

All Eluciens are Elain antis

Antis claiming they’re feminists when in reality they hate on Elain and Feyre but love Nesta

Elain antis are such sore losers. Y’all were that bunch of people who could not get over being rejected from hanging out with the cool kids so y’all are projecting your hatred towards pretty people now to get validation

I don’t get how Elain’s love for gardening equals boring for some people. I’m sorry your misogyny finds traditionally feminine activities boring

Why are you attacking a female? What did Elain do? Where are your feminist voices?

The fandom is misogynistic towards Elain

If people loved Elain they would ship Elriel

If you hate Elain it says a lot about your feelings toward women

If you hate Elain because she has no “development” then you must hate Azriel because otherwise you’re misogynistic

Eluciens are turned off by the idea of a woman that has the autonomy to reject a man for the simple reason that it is her choice

Eluciens are all about feminism and “it’s HER choice” until it comes down to females not wanting a male

Eluciens don’t respect Elain’s feelings when they ship her with someone that was part of her trauma and makes her feel uncomfortable

The way some Elucien shippers completely disregard how uncomfortable Elain is around Lucien is so hilariously not funny. Prioritizing being mates over Elain’s feelings is just regressive

It’s hard as a fan of Elain to see someone ship her with a person who makes her physically uncomfortable to be around. Wouldn’t you want both characters to be happy to be around each other

Imagine if SJM saw all the awful things her “stans” had to say about Elain

It’s true that we know comparatively little about her, but is she really boring or do you just not value stereotypically feminine traits?

So y’all are just gonna tell me you prefer Elucien over Elriel? Even though Lucien treats Elain as if she’s something that belongs to him? The only reason he wants to be with her is because she’s his mate, he doesn’t respect her, doesn’t treat her as his equal, even though that’s what mates should be? He doesn’t bother to look past what’s on the outside to see her for who she is. And Elain is obviously repulsed by the idea that she should belong to anyone or have no choice in who she can be with. Azriel is her friend and the only person who sees her quiet strength. He has so much faith in her, in her abilities; he’s the one who kept her company when no one else did, he’s the only one who bothered to see her for more than her brokenness. You’re going to tell me you still prefer Elucien over Elriel?

The more I see Gwynriels that ship Elucien out of their hate for Elain, the less I can understand Elain stans that ship Elucien. Pls Elain has made it very clear that she doesn’t want Lucien, why would you ship her with him? Do you hate her too? Smh

The real question would be, if you care and understand Elain why would you ship her with Lucien (where she canonically shrinks when he is near)?

People crying over Helion and Lucien’s mom not getting to be with each other and her being forced into a relationship she didn’t want, but also ship Elucien? Just say you hate Elain

When Elain’s book is out, Gwyn stans will look like clowns and I will laugh because they set her up by shipping her with Azriel just because they hate Elain. Watch them play the victims now because Elriels are clapping back the hate they’ve sent towards Elain

As romantic as wanting girl who is visibly uncomfortable around a guy who caused her trauma to end up with the said guy. Guess their standards for romance are in hell

Category 2: Victimize Elain’s character

Gwynriels only want Gwyn with Azriel because they despise Elain

Gwyn stans and Gwynriels are Elain antis

No one in the books dislike Elain, so why are there so many people who do?

Elain hasn’t done anything wrong or questionable to warrant the hate she gets

Not having Elain’s POV makes it easy for people to be swayed a certain way about her character if you already don’t relate to her in some way

It’s been years since this series came out and we haven’t gotten a lick of an Elain POV, but people still hate her for what? We don’t know her thoughts, dreams, or aspirations

We haven’t even had Elain’s perspective yet and people are passing these judgments off on her

Elain antis who say she’s boring are just cruel when she has obvious symptoms of PTSD like Feyre and Nesta

Gwyn is one of the most overhyped characters and that’s only because most people hate Elain and they couldn’t wait to find a random girl to ship Azriel with

Nesta was abusive to her sisters but Elain (who has only ever been kind) is painted as the villain

From the text we know that Elain is the epitome of feminine stereotypes (gentle, gardening, baking, non confrontational for the most part). Yet people still call her boring or deny that she has any interesting character traits?

You can’t love Nesta and hate Elain

People hate Elain because of internalized misogyny and lack of taste. All the girl does is tend to her garden and mind her business and they treat her worse than Tamlin

Does Gwyn deserve all this support? Of course yes! She is amazing! But where’s that support when Elain was in the same situation as she? Where’s that support for her right now? Why do they idolize Gwyn for her interactions with Azriel and hate Elain for having any interaction with him?

It’s not even a ship war anymore, they just hate Elain

People hate Elain for no reason

Some of y’all don’t like feminine traits and it shows

We know less about Eris and Helion but people don’t call them boring. Why would rejecting femininity make Elain more interesting?

Elain has had a lot forced upon her

The main reason I believe most people love Gwyn so much is to get Azriel away from Elain. It’s not a secret that Elain has been a widely hated character for years so suddenly we get a new female who has a minimal amount of interactions with Azriel and BOOM. New ship that once again doesn’t make sense (just like Azriel x Emerie after ACOFAS)

Elain hasn’t done something so terrible for her to get this hate. At this point some of you are just being misogynistic and you don’t want to accept it. Don’t call yourselves feminists and then say bs like this, it’s embarrassing. She’s pretty and everyone agreed to hate on her

Just a personal feeling, but I feel like a lot of the Elain hate stems from internalized misogyny. That to be a strong female lead, you need to pick up a sword and fight. That to be strong, you need to adapt traditionally masculine traits

Elain is feminine. She is beautiful. She loves to bake and garden. She is docile, quiet, observant, and a people-pleaser. All traditionally feminine traits. Yet for some reason, she’s like the worst in these people’s eyes?

I think also maybe a lot of people can’t relate to her femininity? That her being so beautiful and quiet doesn’t allow for the people who dislike her not to self-insert? Most of the hate stems from people not wanting Elain to be with Azriel. It’s mean, but maybe the people who hate Elain literally just can’t self-insert if they have a story and that’s why they’re vehemently against it?

Poor Elain. The Cauldron dealt her a bad deal. Upon emerging as Fae, she is immediately declared by Lucien as his mate, never mind that she was already engaged to a prick. Her love life is not good

It blows my mind how they really think that they can compare all the shit that Elain gets with some dumb jokes about Gwyn on Twitter (and yes, the “hate” towards her started mostly because Elriels are clapping back, it was bound to happen)

I would think of it as anti-feminist with Elain and Lucien because she has consistently stated that she does not want him so if she was forced to embrace the bond that would be taking away her right to have a choice but with Az she feels comfortable around so if they were mates then Elain would be happy and feel safe which again should be the priority for women to feel safe in their relationships with anything and to not be forced into any type of situation aka the mating bond in this

Category 3: Coddle Elain’s character

Elain has value the way she is, in all her domestic girly glory. Not every character has to be badass

We don’t speak of Elain’s flaws frequently because everyone else already speaks badly of her, mainly in an unfair way

There is definitely something deeper going on with Elain but by no means will she ever be evil or any less feminine. That goes against everything we already know about her

It’s ok to critique Elain because she needs growth but y’all keep forgetting the shit her and her sisters went through

The last “bad” thing Elain did in ACOTAR was not help Feyre when they were impoverished and I’m tired of people acting like she’s a terrible character when it was their father’s responsibility. It happened 4 books ago and Feyre has forgiven both Nesta and Elain

Elain’s character and the evil Elain theory are a great example of the trend where people only consider female characters interesting if they reject femininity

We don’t know enough to hate Elain

Many people want Elain to turn evil (which in my opinion seems to come from a place of internalized misogyny)

However we don’t tend to talk about her faults, at least not publicly, as that has been, and still is, done to death, and I--personally, at least--find it much more fun to theorise about potentially interesting aspects of the overall plot, than dwell on negatives

And ultimately, I would be shocked if Elain has a more karmically-charged story than Nesta, considering that Elain’s “wrongs” are so much less severe and bad than Nesta’s, and Elain has already apologized for them (or paid the price in other ways, like through what Graysen did)

I guess I also think Elain has suffered and been punished enough. I hope her story is about finding hope in terrible situations, and learning to love her new life, and choosing her own path after everything that has been done to her. I don’t think she needs to be punished anymore or face any additional trauma

Also, why is she being judged on her decisions as a human at all? Fae are monsters to humans! They enslaved them for thousands of years, and the Wall was erected to keep them out

Like I’m sorry, but think Elain would want to leave her ONLY FAMILY AND FRIENDS for the Spring Court where she has no one because--oh look, lots of flowers!--is the craziest thing I have ever heard

Her sisters are in the Night Court. Her nephew is in the Night Court. Her closest friends (Nuala and Cerridwen) are in the Night Court. Her love interest is in the Night Court. Her extended family is in the Night Court. Her home is in the Night Court

SJM isn’t going to keep two sisters together and split up the third. Especially not keep Feyre and Nesta together and separate Elain. They were either all going to end up in separate places, or together. Not 2 here and 1 there

Compared to the other female characters in the series, Elain is the only character whose femalehood is at the center of conversations; this is because arguments in the Elriel fandom fixate on it when discussing her character. While Elain, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor are all representations of white womanhood and white beauty, Elain epitomizes the most fragile version of white womanhood. It’s easy to blame society’s perception of traditional female characters in comparison to non-traditional female characters when it comes to the discourse surrounding Elain’s character because it: falls in line with the fixation on Elain’s femalehood to silence opposing viewpoints; is a simplistic explanation that fails to tackle the underlying issues with Elain as a character, the same issues that are downplayed in-universe; absolves Elain of her wrongdoings; prevents the ACOTAR fandom from holding Elain accountable for her actions and inactions within the series; and diminishes the impact Elain’s actions and inactions have on those around her. It’s not that Elain is hated in the fandom because she’s a traditional female character; it’s the fact that arguments in the Elriel fandom deflect a critical analysis of Elain’s character because she’s a traditional female character who embodies the ideal white woman in need of protection. White fans and white-aligned fans of color, especially white women, have a tendency to vehemently defend, gatekeep, and coddle white female characters in fandom; this makes it difficult for other fans to engage in critical discussions about these white female characters because they’re viewed as flawless and all around perfect characters despite evidence to the contrary. Since Elain is viewed positively by the other characters in the series, it has rendered her character untouchable to any perceived slight or criticism in fandom discussions because those negative opinions challenge what has been said about her character thus far. And as a result, her character has been placed on a pedestal and implicitly hailed as the epitome of white womanhood; and when she’s criticized, it’s seen as a direct attack against white womanhood. Arguments in the Elriel fandom: exploit feminist language and perpetuate white feminist tactics under the guise of defending Elain’s character; center Elain in conversations about female oppression in the ACOTAR world and uphold white feminist ideologies in their critique of ACOTAR’s patriarchal society; and use the fragile white woman narrative to victimize Elain in Lucien’s presence, playing into racial biases that are associated with white supremacy’s defense of white womanhood.

Feminism is a social movement that seeks to promote equality and equity to all genders, and feminists work toward eradicating gender disparities on a macro-level, in addition to challenging gender biases on a micro-level. As feminism became more mainstream, a flat and oversimplified version of feminism emerged: mainstream feminism. The mainstream feminist movement is meant to represent all women, but rarely does it center conversations around issues that concern most women. The problem with mainstream feminism is that it’s just a popularized version of white feminism. White feminism has relied extensively on an individualized understanding of women’s oppression, exclusively from the lens of privileged white women. White feminism only focuses on the oppression experienced by white, able-bodied, affluent, educated, cishet women; and it views gender as the key mode of privileged white women’s oppression, isolated from the privileges granted by their other social identities. White women can be and are oppressed under the patriarchy but only because they are women; their identity as women does not exempt them from the privileges granted by their whiteness. The term white feminist does not mean any feminist who is white, but refers to feminists who prioritize the concerns of privileged white women as though they are representative of all women. However, the term is not exclusive to white people. Because white feminism is so pervasive, people of other racial and ethnic backgrounds often buy into white feminism, believing that if they work hard enough, they may be able to reap its rewards.

Just like white feminism, mainstream feminism only recognizes the identity of being a woman, assumes that all women share common experiences of gender oppression, fails to address other social identities in relation to overlapping systems of oppression, and disregards privilege in relation to various social identities. Just like white feminism, mainstream feminism is palatable because it doesn’t seek to challenge the systems in place, instead its goal is to succeed within them. Essentially, mainstream feminism and white feminism are extensions of performative feminism. Performative feminism is a type of performative activism that’s used to describe feminist views that are surface level and solely for the benefit of one type of person. It’s a pretense which often has nothing to do with genuine activism. Arguments in the Elriel fandom normalize and promote performative feminism because the topic of feminism is only referenced when discussing Elain. This indicates that these arguments are engaging in disingenuous discourse to push a personal agenda within the ACOTAR fandom, and it becomes more apparent when they use white feminist tactics to shut down opposing viewpoints:

White feminists weaponize and exploit feminist language to silence the opinions of other women, especially when they’re called out for their problematic behaviors

White feminists use the phrase “Women supporting women” to defend other white feminists who exhibit problematic behaviors instead of holding them accountable

White feminists weaponize phrases like “Women supporting women” and “You just hate women” to attack other women who disagree with them on any given topic

White feminists use phrases like “All women face challenges” and “Stop pitting women against each other” to sidestep conversations about privilege

White feminists divert conversations away from privilege and towards the Trauma Olympics to equate their struggles to the oppression of marginalized people

White feminists skirt around the realities of other forms of oppression and discrimination, downplaying the experiences of marginalized people

White feminists diminish or ignore the ways in which gender oppression affects other marginalized people

White feminists paint those they harmed as aggressive, mean, or divisive when confronted with the ways they have harmed a marginalized group

White feminists deflect criticism by focusing on the anger or emotions being expressed rather than the issue that is being discussed, invalidating the concerns of marginalized people

White feminists speak over marginalized voices in an attempt to sound “woke”

White feminists get defensive and insist there’s no way they could be a part of the problem because of what they’ve done to help marginalized groups already

White feminists say they don’t see color in an attempt to obscure racial issues that need to be addressed

White feminists center and victimize themselves in conversations about racism, which derails necessary conversations from taking place

White feminists who are white weaponize the intersectionality of their race and gender to avoid accountability

Feminism is not meant to be approached from an individualistic perspective nor is it only about addressing the experiences of privileged white women, it involves addressing the intersections of race, class, gender, sexuality, (dis)ability, and other social identities as well; and it involves addressing how these social identities relate to privilege. Moreover, feminism is not about women upholding complete loyalty to other women because of a shared gender identity, and to claim that it does implies that women should be held to different emotional standards than men. If men are able to dislike and criticize other individual men, real or fictional, without their characters being compromised, why aren’t women granted that same privilege?

It’s clear that SJM set up the ACOTAR world to mirror a patriarchal society, and that the imbalance of power between males and females stems from sexism. Arguments in the Elriel fandom analyze the ACOTAR world through a feminist lens to show how ACOTAR’s patriarchal society, to which the mating bond is innately tied, contributes to female oppression and limits their agency. When choice and free will are emphasized as part of Elain’s arc, they imply that Elain, through the mating bond, experiences female oppression under ACOTAR’s patriarchal society because of her identity as a female with that identity being the focal point of her oppression in the world. Elain is one of the most privileged characters in the ACOTAR world: she’s High Fae; she’s the sister of the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, which gives her access to wealth and political influence because of that connection; she’s able-bodied; she was magically blessed by the Cauldron; and she lives in Velaris, a place that grants females autonomy and power because of the beliefs of Rhysand and Feyre. Arguments in the Elriel fandom trivialize female oppression in the ACOTAR world because they disregard the fact that Elain’s privileges prevent her from experiencing female oppression in the same way that other marginalized females in the world do. The mating bond being one such example because those around Elain are not forcing the bond on her, instead they’re allowing Elain to reach a decision about the bond for herself; a privilege that other marginalized females in the world probably wouldn’t have. Just because Elain has endured hardships in her life and is a female in a patriarchal society, they do not erase the privileges she holds within the ACOTAR world. The failure to include Elain’s privileges in discussions about Elain being a female in a patriarchal society feeds into white feminist ideologies because white feminism operates from a very narrow perspective; it doesn’t take other intersecting identities into account when it examines gender oppression, leaving no room for discussions about privilege (or lack thereof) in relation to those intersecting identities. When discussing oppression in hierarchical societies, it’s imperative that privilege is also included in the conversation because privilege and oppression are not mutually exclusive; they equally affect the ways in which people navigate those societies through their social identities.

Rather than attributing Elain’s uncomfortability to her new life as a Fae female or the mating bond itself and her trauma to the Cauldron, the King of Hybern, or Ianthe, they’re placed on Lucien to cast his character in a negative light. Moreover, fandom discussions portray Lucien as a possessive character to further emphasize Elain’s discomfort despite the inaccuracy of this characterization in canon. Arguments in the Elriel fandom play into racial biases when it comes to Lucien (a male character of color) because they mischaracterize his character in order to victimize Elain (a white female character), placing her character in the role of the white damsel in distress. In Western society, the concept of womanhood has been conceptualized from a Eurocentric perspective with femininity and feminine attributes favoring white women. It’s the idea that a certain type of femininity is only inherent to white women as they are seen as the embodiment of an ideal womanhood. White womanhood has been a symbol of innocence and purity, and white women have been viewed as fragile beings in need of protection. The reason white womanhood functions within white supremacy is because it’s the same idea that has motivated white men to kill and beat black and brown men. The so-called protection of white women has been used as a justification for the horrific violence committed by white men because black and brown men were stereotyped as aggressive and seen as a threat to the virtue of white women. The white damsel in distress trope considered white women as worthy of protection because of their perceived innocence and purity; women of color were not granted that same treatment because they did not fit into the ideal image of womanhood. Over the years, this trope became a means for white women to exercise limited power in a patriarchal society with white women weaponizing their status as the damsel much to the detriment of black and brown men. It’s through the white damsel in distress trope that white supremacy sustains its dominance in Western society. The misrepresentation of characters of color in fandom, the dismissal of their importance to the overall story, and using them as tools in arguments centered around white characters are the foundation of fandom racism; they’re examples of how racism moves silently in fandom spaces. Instead of examining their behavior and taking constructive criticism from fans of color, white fans will often double down on their bigotry and center their uncomfortability in the conversation when confronted with their complicity in fandom racism. White fans expect fans of color to swallow fandom racism in its many forms in order to not ruin the experience of fandom, dismissing the fact that racism is prevalent in nearly every aspect of society. This mentality ensures that no one is held accountable for the harm they caused and alienates fans of color in fandom spaces.

To reiterate what I mentioned in my first think piece: terms like “oppression”, “the right to choose”, “feminist”, “feminism”, “anti-feminist”, “anti-feminism”, “internalized misogyny”, “misogyny”, “misogynist”, “sexist”, “sexism”, “racist”, “racism”, “classist”, “classism”, “discrimination”, and “patriarchy” are all used in specific ways to draw attention to the plight of marginalized people and challenge those who deny the existence of systems of oppression. Yet these words and their meanings can be twisted to attack, exclude, and invalidate people with differing opinions on any given topic. When social justice and feminist terms are thrown around antagonistically and carelessly to push a personal agenda, it becomes clear that these terms are being used to engage in disingenuous discourse and pursue personal validation rather than being used out of any deep-seated conviction to dismantle systemic oppression. Being an ally, activist, or feminist is not an identity, it’s a practice. It requires: ongoing self-reflection; holding ourselves accountable; listening to marginalized people; educating ourselves; dismantling implicit biases; challenging those around us who are exhibiting problematic behaviors; and action behind our words.

It’s important to be aware of the language that is used within the fandom when defending or critiquing characters and ships. It’s also important to question how an argument is framed and why it’s framed the way that it is to critically examine the intent behind that argument: is it used as a tool to push a personal agenda that reinforces problematic behaviors, or is it used as an opportunity to share, learn, enlighten, and educate?

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Tagging: @spell-cleavers @bookofmirth @m0bulidae @ilya-boltagon

#elain archeron #elriel #acotar fandom #acotar: fandom critical

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