#fandom is what you put into it i guess so the only way to make these breaks more bearable is to turn things around

[gazstations]

Blue

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 SUMMARY

You’re convinced Johnny would be better off without you. Johnny is determined to convince you otherwise.

FANDOM: Call of Duty

PAIRINGS: John MacTavish x reader

WORD COUNT: 3,324 words

WARNINGS: Angst: reader thinks poorly of themselves, mentioned body issues, relationship struggles. Fluff: Johnny being a real one, happy ending, he doesn’t put up with the negativity

◇ Notes: I know some of you only marked down being tagged in fluff and so I figured the little angst was okay because it still ends up fluffy??? Idk. If you have an issue, let me know. I’m new to this tagging system game, lol.

○●○ NAVIGATION MASTERLIST

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THERE WAS A VILE SICKNESS MAKING A MESS OF THE WIRING IN YOUR BRAIN. It was always there lingering in every squelching groove, sinking into the delicate, fleshy existence of life. You supposed the darkness was always there. It ate away at everything good until it reworked your DNA down to the very core.

You always lived with this subtle distaste for how you existed. You were a melancholic child who never learned how to purge out that sinister inner voice. It was you. That's not something a few good thoughts could work through. You were born blue in the face and would surely die that way.

Substitutes for temporary release were only that. Temporary.

Infection spread quickly, burning out the live synapses that produced the tantalizing joy. There was a steady muteness in your life. Your core was dispositioned, and that threw off the whole equilibrium.

When John MacTavish crashed head first into your life, he was crafted in an eager, child-like visage. He slithered methodically behind you, pinning you underneath his warm light. Because that’s what he always was: warm. He was this golden light you didn’t know how you lived without before.

And he wanted you. He traced the ridges of your rib cage with a slow, delicate nature as he searched for a way in between the grooves in order to grasp your heart. He was purposeful, laid out his intentions right in the beginning, leaving you no room to question or second guess.

For a long time, you were secured by this lively, bright muse that you somehow captured.

The fog was a gradual ascension. You were too busy with the calloused hands that cupped your cheeks each dewy morning to notice the grotesque, greedy hands that slowly sunk into your jugular. It wasn’t until they pierced your carotid artery that you realized the sickness in your brain had caught up once more.

It was always there. You shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable.

You began to doubt.

At first, the nausea only manifested like a small illness. Heavy behind the eyes as they leaked tears constantly, a tickle in the back of your throat, and a queasiness in the pit of your stomach. It was easy to hide, easy to push into the back of your mind even though you constantly felt the shadow behind you.

Then you became absent-minded. You lugged your weary body by the bone in a trance-like state to the kitchen each morning. Your morning beverage had a sour aftertaste, no longer appealing. Your food was bland, and you no longer felt excitement at the thought of eating. No matter what you did to stimulate yourself throughout the day, your joints still ached.

Then, you began to dismiss Johnny’s attempts to bond. This was where you felt horrible, which delved you further into your self-destructive attitude. He was a kicked puppy with every non explantive rejection as he watched you drift further away. A hollowed out phantom that haunted the halls where you first bloomed.

When you were in public, you stopped holding his hand. What he saw was malice creeping out through your pores. What you felt was that there were softer hands for him to hold. When he tried to hold you from behind while you waited in line or were just existing, you claimed you were too hot. His brow would furrow, and hurt would cross his face. He never questioned, and you hated yourself for ever giving him a reason to feel that agonizing pain and never know why.

As a natural physical touch fiend, Johnny tried to solve your issues with more. You knew all the ways he tried to initiate sex after so long in your relationship, and you could sniff out the desire from a mile away. By the time his voice dropped to a low brogue, his eyes half-lidded, and he was rutting his hips against your body, you were already far too tense.

Not now. I’m too tired.

It was always the fucking same excuse that fell from your poisonous lips. You were so cruel to the man that loved you wholeheartedly and you didn’t have the capacity to let words of confession slip past your lips.

Soon, he’d realize you weren’t worth all the effort to save. And though it would break your heart, you knew it would be for the better. You couldn’t purge this sickness in your mind. It was a chronic, permanent state of your being. Blue for the rest of your life.

You knew you had to play the part sometimes, however. So, when he initiated sex after three or four times of denial, you let him have his way with you. He peeled your clothes off your body, and yet you felt like he was prying the flesh from your bone. He dipped his mouth down between your thighs, and you stared at the ceiling, bile rising in your throat. You were suddenly hyper aware of every imperfect nuance of your body.

You hadn’t been caring for yourself like you should’ve. Your legs were prickly from not shaving for a couple of days. Acne was infested your skin. You hadn’t washed your hair for several days. None of those things Johnny had cared about before. He was never picky, but now, because you had your concerns, you believed maybe he did as well.

He moaned and groaned as he lapped at your slit. His fingers dug into your plush thighs and pushed them further away from each other. Anyone else could see he was seeing heaven right then and there, but to you, his warbles of content were over exaggerated. You despised yourself for convincing yourself at that moment that he only pretended that he had to enjoy it because he couldn’t hurt your feelings.

When he realized you weren’t into it, he lifted his head and softened his gaze. You weren’t going to find pleasure when you were already one foot out the door. When he went to hold you, you climbed from the bed and locked yourself in the bathroom. You turned on the shower to muffle your cries of self-loathing.

You were drifting out in a minefield, and Johnny was struggling to follow you.

He hadn’t tried to touch you since.

He was respecting you. Waiting for you to break and come to him for guidance. He didn’t want to be the one that forced you to change or heal. He was allowing you to come to that conclusion yourself.

No, maybe he was finally realizing you weren’t worth the effort.

A month passed of this disease. You withered away, and Johnny tried to save face in the public eye. Your shared home was a warzone, however. Sleep deprivation made you quicker to snap. It made you further your atrophy. You were trying to fix it, but it destroyed itself even more. Self-destruction was a war not many came back from.

Johnny was a problem solver, however. He broke. Not in the way you anticipated where he separated from his role in your life, but in how he clung to you again. He was a good man. He was observant, empathetic, and loving.

You were having a bad day. You stood in front of your mirror and dissected every physical manifestation of your insecurity. You tried to be good, to find a means to hype yourself up. To build your palaces amongst the rubble. It led to you on the floor of your bedroom, several items of clothing on the floor around you.

You were naked, stripped down to the very core of you. You were overstimulated, tears of frustration pooling out your eyes as your stuffy nose wheezed. Mucus collected in your throat and made it hard to breathe. You could feel the individual follicles of your hair, brushing against your body. You wondered how fast you could shave yourself bald.

“Oh, doe. It’s okay. C’mere.”

Johnny didn’t worry about past boundaries he set for himself in order to give you space. You didn’t realize he was home until his arms wrapped around your heaving body and pulled you back into his embrace. You were too weak to deny him this time.

He kissed your heated temple softly. You were making yourself ill from your deterioration. You choked on spittle and just sagged into his chest. Once the sorrow started, you couldn’t stop it. Your eyes tainted him as well, dampening his shirt as you sobbed pitifully.

You were so exhausted.

“C’mon, doe. Talk tae me,” Johnny pleaded. His hand ran over your head in soothing pats before descending down to your back, where he traced each vertebrae of your spine.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you choked. “Why I’m like this.”

Johnny shushed you quietly and kissed at your hairline again. He didn’t try to discount your feelings by telling you that you didn’t need to feel this way. That wasn’t how you convinced someone to heal. You could give them assurances, but at the end of the day, they had to take the initiative to believe those words.

“Tha’s okay. Ye dinnae need tae ken,” he said.

You wondered if Johnny was naturally intuitive or if it was a learned trait after years of perusing different social circles. And your brain leaked poison back into your synapses. You weren’t like him. You struggled deeply to empathize with people when you were so caught up in your own gloom. Socially, you didn’t understand, and so you hardly connected with anyone. Not like Johnny.

“Doe…” Johnny’s voice brought you back. He pulled your head from his chest and cupped your quivering jaw. It ached from constant clenching. “Did ye hear me?”

Confusion made you tilt your head. You sniffled quietly and shook your head, admitting that you had disappeared inside your head.

“Ah asked ye if ye could try tae explain it tae me,” Johnny said carefully, as if you were going to frighten and lose what intimacy you had just allowed him.

You swallowed. “I don’t know,” you paused and felt the lump growing in your throat. “I don’t know how.”

“Is it me?” Johnny questioned. He pouted his lip and gave you a saddened look. Had he always been dissolving alongside you?

You have a single clue on which words to conjure. You were at a blockage, and it overwhelmed you. This self mutilation was far too complicated to simply explain. Too many branches grew off of the main trunk. Too convoluted. Too frustrating.

“It’s everything.” Was what you settled for. It was a pathetic response.

Johnny didn’t falter, though. He let out a soft, cooing noise and ran his thumbs along your cheekbones. It took your answer in stride despite all your attempts to absolve him of his responsibility to keep your wither away. You didn’t understand his psyche.

What you didn’t realize was that he understood the unwavering doubt and dissolution. As a soldier, he was well-equipped in the crippling agony that followed every decision. He understood that some days it was just simply everything.

Johnny sat back against the foot of the bed. He simply patted his lap, baby blue eyes watching you closely. Fondly. Sorrowfully. His own eyes were glassy as if he was sympathetic to your treacherous plight. It was almost as if your agony was his burden to bear as well.

You crawled into his lap like a wounded child. He helped your thighs cradle on the outside of his in a straddle as he stared at you quietly. Your damaged heart fluttered when he simply raised your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. Then he transferred to the other hand.

“Ah cannae help ye if ye dinnae talk tae me, doe,” He said.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. Your heart was leaking, and you were tearing yourself apart.

“Why?” Johnny booped your nose and then kissed the tip. You watched his long eyelashes flutter as he blinked naturally. “Because ye ‘ave a couple bad thoughts?”

“More than a couple,” you muttered.

Johnny smiled faintly at your small correction. He wiped at the underside of your eyes delicately to not disturb that thin stretch of skin. You sighed softly, feeling the callouses rub across your face. It was more comforting than you wanted to admit.

“Ah think yer the bonniest thing ah ‘ave ever seen,” he said.

You scoffed. It was self-pitying. Pained. Those words made your own tongue feel dry even though he was the one who said them. Johnny noticed and frowned, “Not lying, doe. Ye need the truth right now.”

You couldn’t answer. You felt awful for what you worried about. What he had never been privy to this whole time. Or maybe he already knew what thoughts were naturally part of the package when it came to self-deprecation.

“Tell me how tae help ye,” Johnny pleaded.

“I don’t know…” You breathed out. “I’m just tired of my brain trying to sabotage a good thing.”

“Do ye see me runnin’?” He asked.

You shook your head. No, he wasn’t running, and for some reason, that was scarier. You noticed your hands were trembling, and you went to tuck them in between your thighs. Yet, you couldn’t fool your soldier, and he intercepted the movement by cupping both of your hands.

“Doe, look at me,” he ordered softly.

You listened to the command, prompted by the subdued syllables in his tone. It was pleasant on your ears, and your body slackened in his hold. His unwavering hold. That lump in your throat grew bigger. You almost thought you’d suffocate on it. Your throat was burning so deeply, and you swallowed to tamper down the urge to sob more.

“Yer okay…” Johnny assured. “Jus’ us. And ah love ye as much as ever.”

You made the mistake of locking eyes with the perceptive blue, and suddenly, you felt you were lost at sea. Endlessly staring at that one beacon of light to get you back to the shoreline. Except you kicked and tried to just give up, let the current drown you.

“Why?” You asked.

“Could write a novel fer ye,” Johnny said.

You huffed through your tears. You didn’t believe him, but somehow, the words still calmed you. He was trying to appeal to you, even if you spat it back out. You were an infection of hollowness, a husk, and Johnny was this beautiful being that somehow had all the capacity in his heart nurture. Even when he was shackled down by his own demons.

“Serious,” Johnny added. “Already talked silly ‘bout ye in my journals.”

Now, that was surprising. Johnny never showed you what was hidden beneath the leather-bound journals he continuously collected. You accepted it was personal. Some things you didn’t have the right to. Even as his partner.

“There’s no way you have that many good things to say,” you protested.

Johnny tapped your hip and helped you stand up. His bad knee cracked as he followed, a slight tension in his face. He once said it wasn’t painful, only when it got cold. It was just tight and felt like walking through tar. A reckless decision that permanently changed his body.

He grabbed your hand and led you over to his side of the room. He opened a drawer and pulled out two journals. He hummed softly as he checked the contents before turning and offering them to you.

“Read ‘em,” he declared. “Then try tae tell yerself that yer something to be disgusted by.”

He was offering you his heart with this one gesture. It made you more nervous than you expected. You were afraid to see yourself as Johnny supposedly saw you. Like if you weren’t damned then there was nothing worthwhile about you. The churning waters were your home. You were terrified to grab at the shoreline—that beacon of light now right in front of you.

It brought you to safety.

You were taught to snarl at it and question its motives.

Still, you took the journals with bated breath.

Johnny kissed your forehead, pleased. “Find me when yer done.”

He gave you space to stew as he stepped out into the hallway. You didn‘t move until you were faint from locking your knees so tightly.

♡◇♡

You climbed down the stairs with heavy steps. Your body was numbed, tears clumping your eyelashes together. Your emotional output was severely depleted. You had run yourself dry.

Johnny was in the kitchen when you found him. He was leaning back against the counter. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, and his jeans wrapped around his thighs detectably. But your mind wasn’t on that, not right now.

He smiled brightly when he saw your wounded form approaching, and he simply opened his arms. He understood what you needed at that moment. You hadn’t realized how much he saw you until you made it cover to cover in both of those journals.

You sniffled quietly, muffled by his shirt. You didn’t cry. You just sat there in his embrace. He saw you. He always had seen beneath the crippled, hollowed husk you were.

“You mean it?” You questioned.

“Aye, bon. Every single word,” Johnny said. “It breaks my heart tha’ ye dinnae see ‘ow wonderful ye are.”

“I didn’t think you’d…” you bit your tongue as acid burned on the wet muscle.

“Tha’ ah what?” Johnny pressed.

You deep down groaned that he didn’t let you off the hook, that he forced you to put your words out into the air. That your insecurity had to have a body. It seemed more ridiculous that way. Those stupid thoughts that circulated in your brain had less weight once they were out into the clean air.

You caught on to what Johnny was doing.

“I just… I don’t understand why…” you paused, brain pounding in your skull. “I think about your exes and your friends and how easily you just… live. And here I am…”

“Dinnae need the most confident bird, doe,” Johnny says. “Aye, ah yap a ton. But ye help me take a step back. My life is active, ah like havin’ my bon all calm. Ye the one ah chose as my partner. So the other birds ah’ve been with disnae matter.”

You went to speak, but Johnny literally covered your mouth, halting any leakage. You squinted as you stared at him, and he just gave you a boyish grin. It worked. It turned off your mind for a moment.

“If yer gonna talk shite, ye keep tha’ mouth shut,” he said.

You stared at him for a long, calculating moment. Then, you sighed, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. You didn’t have any emotionless replies. You didn’t have a self-deprecating joke. You had nothing. That was a good thing for once.

When Johnny was certain no acid would seep out of your mouth, he dropped his hand.

“What do ye want for dinner?” He asked as if it hadn't been an emotional warzone the past…well…whole time.

“What?” You blinked in confusion, head still reeling.

“Ah'm ordering us something,” he stated matter-of-factly as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You were at least grateful he didn't offer to take you out because you really didn't want to go out. You weren’t really sure if you were hungry either, or maybe you were. Food didn't sound too repulsive right now. Though, if he hadn't said anything, you probably would've just gone straight to bed.

“Oh…”

You really didn't know what else to say.

Johnny hummed, seemingly picking up on that. He kissed your forehead before peeling himself away from your coiled tight body. The air was filled with a little less anxiety and far more sweetness than there had been in months. It put you at ease.

“Go take a shower, doe,” Johnny ordered softly. “Ah got this covered.”

And you believed it.

°•○●○•°

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[unnatural-happenings]

Of Capes & Billionaires

Took a break from staring at my Persona drafts again to write this instead lol. Would be the first part to this if I decide that finishing the future drafts is worth the time spent away from the Persona fic (ie if I enjoy it)

Fandoms: Batfam x Reader x Avengers

Characters: Damian and Loki. Some of the Batfam and Avengers are here too, but the focus is mostly on them

Notes: Reader is They/Them, Loki is here because I want him to be, Reader is a kid of Bruce Wayne, While this isn't a neglectful!Batfam fic the relationship is still tense atm, for Marvel I try to stick to MCU personalities but a little bit of comic or cartoon quirks might make it in

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Living with Bruce Wayne has always been frustrating. The rules, the expectations, the press, galas, and vigilante nonsense makes for an extremely stressful environment. Adding family drama on top of all that is a surefire way to make you slip away at the nearest convenience.

Your second home with the Avengers is more carefree—less brooding, way less pretending, and always welcomes you back with open arms… and maybe a drink or two. They're your safe haven, and you'd love nothing more to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, your family has never been good at letting secrets stay secrets.

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Damian could not believe this farce you're playing is still ongoing. You continue to vex him even in your absence and make his evening worse.

It had been a long day. School was as dull as usual, the teachers not teaching anything new and his classmates completely vapid, he'd taken care of every one of his pets, already got Grayson to spar with him, the rest of his brothers have vanished, and patrols wouldn't start for another hour.

He was as free as can be and it left him annoyed beyond measure. His go to option for filling up dead time wasn't available—to his complete ire—so he spent time in his room trying to draw while Alfred the cat curled up next to him. Though he could barely focus on what he was actually putting to paper, as his mind kept drifting to the one person responsible for his current lack of activity.

Stewing within his head and staring at a sheet of paper filled with mindless doodles is when his phone buzzes next to him. It's in a familiar rhythm that has him instantly pick it up to check the notification.

Fury is the only acceptable word for what Damian's currently feeling.

His sketchbook is haphazardly thrown onto the bed as he gets up—annoying Alfred—and makes a beeline for the door. He storms through the manor, every step fueled by a deep, aimless frustration as he throws open one of the many entrances to the Batcave.

Everyone's already arrived before him—or it's better to say they were all already there, and all strewn about the place. Though he cares little for their positions when Drake is the only one that can provide any answers.

Damian's eyes dart to the Batcomputer to see what you just posted to your social on one of the bigger screens, and Drake typing away on another. It was a picture of you standing on the snowy peak of mountain—drinking hot chocolate, along with some blonde guy that definitely didn't deserve to stand in your presence.

"Drake."

"I know, I know, I'm already on it."

He stands there and watches as Drake goes through file after file, checking as much surveillance footage as possible and putting the unknown's face through every registry he could think of. By the end, everything comes back negative and he slides downwards in his seat with a groan.

Todd puts down the gun he was cleaning, obviously barely paying attention to what was happening on the screen having resigned himself to lack any expectations.

"Let me guess, nothing again."

Drake runs a hand over his eyes and Damian scoffs when he notices his leg start bouncing, "He still shows no results and they're no longer in that location anymore. This was posted long after they already left… Again."

He can't believe what he's hearing. To have gone this long without finding a single clue leaves Damian doubting Drake's skill altogether.

"I thought you were supposed to be the computer genius of the family. How come you still haven't found a clue as to where our sibling is located?"

Drake lets out a sharp exhale, "We've been through this ten over times now and every search has ended the same. They post the pictures when they're already out of the area, they have location tags and their GPS turned off, despite clearly being all over the world their profile always signs in from Sydney Australia, their email isn't real, they're using a highly encrypted device even Oracle is struggling to deal with, every purchase they make is either in cash or using another persons card, and somehow, not once have they been caught on camera by any surveillance."

He goes on to mutter under his breath, too low for Damian to make out any words, but it further irritates him anyway.

"Are you positive you're even trying? It's not like they're not some elusive figure."

Drake spins in the chair to directly face Damian, his extreme irritation made know at his prodding, "I wouldn't even slack during an investigation for Kite Man, to think I'd do so for any member of our family is insulting. I want to find them as much as you do. It's also necessary to learn how they've been able to avoid detection for so long—"

"Well it sounds like you're only searching because they hurt your ego."

"Are you hearing yourself—"

"Enough."

Their father calls out from the side. He doesn't do anything else other than stand their and stare, but it's enough to instantly silence both of them and keep them from continuing. He gestures with his head towards the screen, and Drake rolls his eyes before spinning back around.

From behind the bat, Jason speaks out while cleaning one of his firearms, "So what? Either he continuously wipes every database in the world, or he doesn't exist?"

Grayson also finally decides to join in with a comment of his own, "Could he be photoshopped at all?"

He walks closer to the screen to get a better look at the man you're posing with in the picture. Cain follows behind him, carefully studying the photo as well, but not adding anything to the conversation as of yet.

Drake sits up in his seat, his anger fading into exhaustion with another sigh, "No." He starts another scan of the blonde's face through a meta/mutant database, "Both options are seemingly impossible, considering they go everywhere together with no evidence of photo tampering. One moment they're on the beaches of Denmark and the next they're skiing in Canada!" He mutters under his breath, "Not to mention they didn't even take enough money to go on all these flights. I have no idea where they're getting the funds for this."

He slumps over again when the results turn up negative, just like every other.

Todd strolls over like he has no care for the outcome, but it only takes looking at his face to see how this is affecting him. His jaw tense as he glares directly at the light-haired man, no doubt trying to burn his appearance into his memory. Damian has also done this himself. but truly, he doesn't think Todd's earned the right to be as mad as he is at your disappearing act, and it makes his own blood boil even more.

"Tch. We wouldn't be going through such troubles in the first place if they took their phone with them. We should not be learning about their location through second hand sources."

That was merely meant to be a statement regarding the inconvenience of their search despite being family, but Todd felt the need to add to it and make it more personal.

"We wouldn't be trying to find them at all if they didn't run off without saying anything, then start hangin' out with a guy we can't track."

"They wouldn't have even left if you all didn't—"

"Are we really doing this now?"

This time, their father doesn't interfere as Damian starts another argument, merely grunt in disapproval. Cain takes one last look at the picture and leaves Grayson's side—who in particular is wondering if he should step in to stop the increasingly violent fight—to walk up to Bruce.

He acknowledges her with a nod and she gets right to he inquiry, "… What about Superman?"

Cain's interjection causes Damian to put a pause on reaching for the nearest batarang to fling past Grayson at Todd. He needs to hear if the Super family has any word on your whereabouts. They should, but if for some reason they know nothing or refuse to help, it shouldn't be to hard to get information out of Jon.

"He refuses to tell me anything, and has made a conscious effort to not report any potential leads to their location in Justice League systems."

Drake turns towards everyone again in the chair, "Conner hasn't said anything either."

Grayson's in the middle of picking up batarangs lying about the cave and putting them in his inner jacket pockets, "They don't want to be found that bad huh…" When he's collected all that he can see he steps in front of Todd—ignoring the hard look he's getting from him, "At least they seem to be doing okay for now."

Todd rolls his eyes and makes his way over to his bike, "Why are we even trying this hard to find them in the first place?"

Damian turns his attention back to Todd with a glare, baffled by the idiocy and his seemingly short-term memory loss. Before he could remind him again that this whole situation is partly his fault, Drake replies

"You were on B's side weren't you? You know why."

Todd looks back towards the group, and for a moment Damian could see how tired he actually was. His shoulders slouched and the bags under his eyes became more prominent, though the frustration at the world—or maybe just towards their father, is still clearly evident.

"I really don't anymore." And just like that he was back to acting indifferent about everything. He hops on his motorcycle and starts the engine, then digs through his bag for his helmet, "Goin' on patrol. Anyone joinin'?"

Already in her suit, Cain is quick to jump on the back of his bike. She accepts the spare helmet Todd hands her without question and swiftly locks it in place as he revs the engine.

Father steps forward, his tone stern as he watches them prepare to leave, "It's not—"

"It's already dark out. Don't start this again, we're still dealing with the consequences of the last one." Jason snaps back. With that, they take off out of the cave without another word.

Grayson leans over Drake to scroll through the rest of your pictures. Multiple of the recent pictures include the very same man that none of them are able to put an identity to. Drake and Damian also scanning each photo they go through, hoping for anything to make sense about the mystery man. In every picture you're happy and don't seem worried about him at all. None of your expressions seem fake either, if only a little exaggerated in some. You act like you've known this guy for years, so why hasn't anyone heard of him before?

Drake runs a hand over his face a d huffs out his next words, "This guy bothers me."

Grayson leans his arm on Drake's shoulder, ignoring his attempts to swat him off, "I know right? He's blonde, that just spells trouble."

"… That's not what I meant at all."

Damian tunes out the chatter from the peanut gallery and turns to his father to inform him on his plans, "I will ask Jon if Kent has informed him of anything, or if they know where they are already."

Drake snorts and lets out a quick 'good luck with that'. Damian has to fight the urge to turn around and insult him for even daring to laugh at his attempts. At least he was still doing something, unlike some of the others.

Then he thinks back on the argument that got you to leave unannounced in the first place and he changes his mind. Half of this family isn't good enough to go searching for you anyway. He's sure if you spotted them, you'd make sure you're never found again. All this over something so idiotic.

Whatever. Once he finds you he'll make sure something so asinine won't happen again, so you won't have to feel like you need to escape again. He'll beat it into everyone's head over and over to never look down on you again if it meant you'd tell him what's going on.

Maybe he should deal with that unknown with you as well. Whoever he is, he's way beneath you, and you shouldn't be giving your time to him at all. What would make you stoop so low as to hangout with random civilians over your own family?

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"I swear to God if you throw that blue shell—"

"Too late."

You can do nothing but curse as your position is threatened. All you have is a green shell with a single coin in your back pocket, with no item boxes nearby to try for a boombox. Within seconds you're screaming as the blue shell reaches you and blows you into oblivion. You watch the entire race pass you while waiting for your kart to stop spinning out, ignoring the cheering from the God of Thunder and the victory lap the archer is currently doing around the room. By the time you can drive forward you have no hope of catching up to the front of the pack with no items and no coins, and come in 7th place. You fall off the couch to kneel on the floor, muttering about how you've disgraced your entire linage.

Natasha nudges your back foot from her position on the couch. She doesn't look up from the book she's reading, but obviously is addressing you with her next words.

"You still won the grand prix. Clint isn't even close, and Thor wasn't really competition to begin with."

You shake your head and lean back onto your knees, "You don't understand Nat. Every loss is a severe scar on my record. A stain. Something to be held over my head for years to come. I need to make up for this failure by setting the new world record on the track I've let best me in a moment of weakness."

That's when she looks up from the book she's reading, her brow quirked, not even trying to hide her amusement at your misfortune, "Aren't you already the world record holder?"

"It's obviously not good enough."

"You only lost because of a blue shell."

Suddenly you're being lifted off the floor. Extremely muscular arms wrap around your middle and pull you into a toned chest. Along with the deep laughter coming from the man behind you, and noticing the missing God of Thunder on the couch, you're easily able to identify Thor's the one to pick you up.

"You did splendid! You're mastery has indeed improved since we last versed one another, as have mine! Though Barton…"

Both of you bring your attention back to the archer to see he's still doing victory laps around the room.

"'Twas but a cheap trick. I assure you his proficiency is far below yours."

"A cheap trick means nothing. I still lost, and to him."

Thor only responds with more laughter.

Clint finally stops his self congratulatory dance to… correct your very wrong opinion of him, "Hey, that was not cheap! I worked hard to drive that Blue Shell to the front of the race!"

You wiggle until Thor puts you down, not wanting to argue held in his arms, "You're bagging tactics are cheap and lame!"

"Bagging requires skill—Wait you were bagging our last race! Why are you getting mad at me!?"

Suddenly a book slams closed, cutting off your oncoming rebuttal and drawing everyone's attention to the corner of the room. Another god sits in the corner, his displeasure made evident through the scowl resting on his face and the closed book on his lap. He stands with a level of grace only a spoon fed, self righteous royal could attain, causing you to grumble under your breath—assuming he's only acting this extra because he either wants something, or is planning something.

He shoots you a glare before addressing everyone in the room, his voice underlined with irritation, "You lot are trying my patience with your incessant howling. Attempting to put up with this noise any longer may cause severe damage to my own sanity."

You're heart sinks a little as he makes his way to leave, but on his way past he grabs the back of your clothes and drags you with him without a second thought.

"H-HEY! LOKI WAIT! THE GAME!"

The others do nothing to help you, all used to you acting as the mischief maker's shadow, whether willing or not. You make sure to flip them off before you turn the corner, seeing Natasha shrug and go back to her own book and Thor wave with one of the largest smiles you've seen on him. Clint only laughs at your predicament, so you mentally note to make him your target the next time you play a party game.

Once you're far enough away and Loki has slid his hand from the back of your clothes to your wrist do you speak up.

"You could just ask me to walk with you y'know?"

"So you wouldn't have thrown yourself to further rot away by the hands of that game to accomplish some arbitrary award that grants you nothing but bragging rights?"

"… No?"

"Don't lie to me."

You don't respond, and it's silent as you let Loki take you to wherever he's going. Soon enough you find yourself in front of your bedroom, Loki letting go of you and easily phasing through the door. With a roll of your eyes and complaints under your breath you follow after him.

He's already taken a seat on the egg chair you have next to the bookshelf and opened his book. You huff before looking around for things to do. There isn't much in the room, you never stayed long enough to bother personalizing it, but you do spot the Gamecube Tony bought for you as a joke. He was getting tired of you not doing anything, so he got that and a shelf full of games—said he was buying you a personality.

"Do not tell me you're still going to play that aggravating racing game?"

You continue to set up the console as you reply to him, "It's only aggravating when I'm playing with Clint, and is the one thing I have over Tim, so I gotta make sure I stay better then him." You look over to him and see he's still got his head in his book, "And you're reading! what else do you want me to do!"

Loki ignores most of what you said, only focusing on one thing, "If you are that keen on thinking about your family through every action then why are you still here? I thought you hated them."

"I just need time away." You sigh as you're thoughts drift a little more to the rest of your family, "That house is suffocating, but that doesn't mean I love them less. They're just being annoying."

A laugh escapes you when you think about how annoyed some of them must be right now due to your recent stunt, "That, and it's really funny being petty."

Loki let's it go as he chuckles himself, "Speaking of being petty, where's our next photoshoot? I'm sure they enjoyed seeing our last in the mountains."

You laugh more freely now as you bring your attention back to the game, pushing aside the more troublesome thoughts, "I heard Tony owns a private beach house. I'm sure he wouldn't mind us dropping by for a couple pictures."

[momentomori24]

[This has been sitting in my draft for a while lol]

When it comes to Curly's failings, I always see people bring up his obvious failure to protect Anya and him prioritising Jimmy, who was the rapist in that situation. Which is completely valid btw and we should rake him through the coals for that alone even more. But I also see too many people saying that Curly "didn't enable Jimmy" or playing softball for his actions. And I could maybe see where that comes from if that incident was the only thing we had to point to-- but that wasn't all he did, is it? Curly being indifferent or not taking Jimmy's mistreatment and belittlement of Anya seriously was hinted at so much earlier than that.

Namely, the very first time we play from Curly's point of view. Let's just skip the fact that Curly was putting everyone in danger by not taking his psych evals seriously and simply giving the same answers to pass them even tho he was shown literal minutes after this scene being clearly not-sane, and go straight to the point I actually wanna get into. Which is this:

These scenes in isolation wouldn't be that bad. From his pov, it's played off as comical and it is. Jimmy being a brony (not really lmao) and getting playfully dragged over it is funny. But unfortunately this is the first example out of many for Curly's complacency. Anya is complaining about Jimmy not taking his psych evals or her seriously, which is easy to believe considering how much he rags on her for "not being a good nurse" (she kept Curly alive on hopes and dreams how dare you). So he keeps making her do silly and inappropriate reports she clearly doesn't wanna do, which is kinda shitty (also borders on harassment). But rather than actually saying something about Jimmy's behaviour or even acknowledging how it sucks he says this:

Mate, that's not a good thing 💀 He's clearly aware that the problem is Jimmy's lack of respect for Anya specifically. He knows that if he, his friend and a man in power, were the one doing the evals Jimmy wouldn't try that disrespect. But it's Anya, a meek woman who ranks lower than him so he thinks he can get away with it (which he DOES), and Curly's shown as comfortable in knowing that. He doesn't chew Jimmy out for making Anya uncomfortable nor does he reassure her that he will do something about it. All he does is take it off her hands this once and helps Jimmy power through it to get a good diagnosis (even tho we know he's DEFINITELY not sane either). He doesn't even mention Anya's discomfort or confront him on his inappropriate behaviour, just teases Jimmy in good fun instead because he doesn't think of it as anything serious. It's subtle and pretty minor in comparison to everything else, but I think it's worth pointing out. Especially because this convo takes place after Jimmy had assaulted her, which makes this so much worse.

If you need any more evidence of Curly being an enabler you need not look further than Anya herself. And I'm not just talking about the way he failed her here-- I'm talking about Anya's own view of Curly and the way said view influences her actions.

Just look at her choice of wording. "What would you have done". This is in response to him saying that she could've come to him if she were feeling stressed, which she-- in his eyes-- didn't. The question itself implies that she had no faith in Curly to actually help despite his insistence that he would've, which I think is significant because it shows that she's very much aware of Curly's shortcomings when it comes to her situation AND it's one of the first (or the first time) she actually verbalised her lack of trust towards him or anyone directly. Prior to this scene she had told him about her rape and the rapist, presumably because she trusted him to handle it. And he dismissed her because the rapist was his best friend, and that evidently deeply scarred her. Enough so that she secretly took the gun and hid it someplace else and didn't even tell Curly were that was, because she knows that if Curly has access to it there's a so much greater chance Jimmy will have too, insinuated by the line "the least I can do is make sure he never gets it either". Speaking about the gun:

It sucks so bad that this perception of him isn't even inaccurate nor unjustified. That despite everything Jimmy had done to her and everything he could still do to her, he'd very likely still not allow her access to the gun for protection. Because that's exactly what he didn't do anyway. He didn't attempt to keep her safe from Jimmy, instead he just pretended that nothing was wrong and still let Jimmy's belittlement of her pass. He didn't give her the gun after the incident, because she wouldn't have hid the case if he had. Despite his desperate reassurance that he'd do anything, he did nothing but make it worse for her and she KNOWS that. It's so frustrating knowing he entrusted the axe to Swansea when he needed it but not the gun to Anya when she needed it too. Also this:

The fact that his knee-jerk reaction to her admitting that she's pregnant was "Who would you--" is so fucked, especially considering she's already told him what happened. "Who would you" what? Who would you fuck? Who would you have sex with? That choice of wording drives me up a wall-- SHE wouldn't and didn't do anything or anyone. That was JIMMY. The potential sentence implies that she had any choice or agency in her pregnancy. She didn't. And the fact that Curly had to ask "who" insinuates that he's been putting Jimmy's action out of sight and out of mind the whole time, choosing to not think about them or what happened to Anya at all. And considering he still made her do Jimmy's evaluations despite being able to do them himself and literally didn't even think of making sure she gets psych evals done too--especially AFTER getting sexually assaulted--that might actually be the case (I haven't seen anyone make a stink about that piece of info so I'm going to because what kinda colossal fuck up IS that??).

I vaguely had a post like this in mind but seeing so many people be like "well Anya did some wrong stuff too like leaving Curly alone with Jimmy but you don't get mad at HER for that so why is Curly not doing anything about Jimmy being alone with Anya so different??" actually makes me want to blow some people up. Jimmy's an abuser, sure, but Anya has no real reason to believe that he'd actually harm Curly. From her perspective, they were close, close enough that Curly would not only let Jimmy continuously disrespect her but also get away with assaulting her too. That, and she knows that Jimmy was closer to Curly than anyone and more likely to be civil around him than he ever was to her. She has barely any reasons to suspect Jimmy would harm Curly when they're alone. Curly, on the other hand, has every fucking reason on the planet to think Jimmy would harm her when they're alone. He knows he raped her (likely in her room at night too). He knows that he sexually harasses her. He knows that he doesn't respect her at all. And that was BEFORE the crash. Anya tried insisting on giving Curly his medicine, only for Jimmy to keep aggressively insisting that he'll take care of it despite her protests. Curly didn't try to keep them separate at all even though he was the Captain and had the power to do so. And this should go without saying, but leaving your rapist alone with his best friend that he was close to and enabled/protected him and leaving your friend alone with the woman he raped (and might have repeatedly assaulted given his free access to her) is NOT THE SAME and I'm going to start chucking some people down a waterfall because what the fuck is that argument 💀 Actually leave it to the fandom of the game where the rape of a woman is the catalyst for the events that unfold to use her trauma to defend the guy that enabled it in the first place. Bloody hell.

The reason why this whole Curly discourse pisses me off is because it-- from what I can see-- ONLY brings up his failures 1-0 days before the crash and the Dead Pixel scene (or all the discussion around other points are drowned out by those two). Those scenes, while important to talk about, are not the only things he's done, and focussing on those as the only things is a mistake that comes short of understanding the issue. When it comes to Curly the main defences I see for him are "he was trying not to escalate the situation" and "he was trying to keep things under control the best he can" and "he was waiting for the right time to help Anya", but those don't work when you look at the bigger picture of everything he's done.

He half-assed through his psych eval despite clearly not being sane (and KNOWING he's barely sane, he literally admits it to Jimmy's face). He still continued to task her with Jimmy's psych evals. He brushed over Jimmy's sexual harassment of her as a joke. He didn't think about making sure she got psych evals done herself after being raped. He gave Swansea the axe but didn't give Anya the gun despite it being for "unrest amongst the crew" (whatever the hell THAT means). He let her assault slip his mind that she had to remind him. He's literally a blond man. He took no action to hold Jimmy responsible for anything, and prioritised how his violation of Anya would affect him rather than her. He ignored her demands for him to get rid of Jimmy. He still allowed Jimmy free reign of the ship as co-pilot even after he was openly fantasising about killing everyone and had a major motive and the means to do just that. He was potentially thinking of making her miscarry to cover up what happened. He was so accustomed to her sucking up being disrespected and disturbed that he didn't even notice a difference in her behaviour until she hid the fucking gun. There's so much other shit he's done and hasn't done, and not talking about them or glossing over them makes it so easy for people to argue that he isn't actually an enabler or just minimise the severity of his neglect.

And while I'm already dragging Curly through the mud, I might as well just drag Swansea too. I've seen too many people being like "Anya should've told Swansea instead" and "Swansea was the one that actually took responsibility". Like, y'all realise he's not that much better than Curly, right? He already knew about what happened to Anya-- he admits it to Jimmy's face-- but he didn't do shit. He knew, but he still got completely shitfaced for months despite her earlier protestation to that (for very understandable reasons). He knew, but he still let Jimmy have the axe AND be alone with Anya while having it. He knew, but when Anya locked herself in the Medical and Daisuke and Jimmy asked for his help he didn't budge nor really showed any care. He knew, but the reason he finally decided to do something about Jimmy wasn't Anya, it was Daisuke. Her suffering and her eventual death weren't enough for him to take action either.

This game, on top of everything else, is a great depiction of rape culture. It doesn't just include the rapists, but the people (mostly men) that stay silent, do nothing, make excuses for and protect the perpetrator for whatever reason, and Swansea and Curly (Curly way more so than Swansea) are both active contributors to the environment that allowed for evil to flourish and continue unhindered until it destroyed them all. And while that arguably doesn't make them evil themselves or as bad as Jimmy, they are so much more a part of the bigger problem than the fandom likes to admit.

[Ok since this is kinda gaining a bit of traction please consider helping these guys out here, here and here. Thanks!]

[asgardian--angels]

things I wish I could relive for the first time again:

that magical window where you finish a new piece of media, having watched/read it all by yourself with no fandom contact whatsoever, and you are just so happy about it, and full of interesting theories and takeaways, and just in love with it as a gorgeous piece of art.

because I swear to god as soon as you join the fandom for anything, you're bombarded with how you're supposed to view characters and their arcs, how you're supposed to morally and ethically judge the plot and the ways it apparently failed to present the right message, and if you don't you'll either be shunned for not sharing the popular headcanons or you'll be harassed for not criticizing the source material enough.

like how is it that the fans of a piece of media are also the ones being the most negative about it? If I like a show or a movie or a book, well, I liked it. That's kind of the point. I'm actually not here to tear it apart and talk about how it didn't live up to standards other people had! I enjoyed it for what it was, and forcing myself to find negative things to say about it doesn't actually bring me more enjoyment of it or reap any benefit to me. Fandom's a double-edged sword; you want to join a community to share your love for a piece of art, and the price you pay for a modicum of joy is a mountain of negativity. that's one main reason that I never engage with fandom until I'm completely done with a show, because if I was plugged into all of that commentary and discourse during the process, I'd be completely colored by how I'm expected to interpret everything this piece of art is presenting to me without being able to even form my own opinions.

[a-blip-of-billdip]

this isnt what i usually post on this blog but I'm already sick of all the memes and 'jokes'. I am almost certainly leaving the fandom for good now because of the book of bills release and NO it is not because billford's community has an influx of supporters.

So the worship and romanticization of asylums and other abusive practices for mental health have been steadily gaining traction in recent years, especially with the rise of tiktok's toxicity.

SO many people, especially younger people, regularly talk about how they want lobotomies or how women they don't like should be lobotomized. They get tattoos of lobotomy like it's some quirky fun thing and not one of the most horrific tortures someone can endure.

These same people, ESPECIALLY leftists, will look at anyone they disagree with or don't like and say "get institutionalized, loser" or "et therapy" and it's always in a mocking way. it's always in a policing way.

because these people know that mental wards strip everyone of their freedom and their bodily autonomy. they know these places arent for healing--theyre for silencing.

So the amount of people i see treating bill being institutionalized like a good thing---even the writers and alex himself?

Yeah. Im out ✌🏼

[milfbrainrot]

yj complaining

i'm getting so tired of the theories that yj derailing is Actually because it's a Commentary on the Audience, about how real life doesn't work out poetically but We as the Depraved Audience want fucked up deaths that satisfy, We as the Dumbass Audience want to find meaning just like the girls do even when there is none, that We as the Audience of seemingly mostly people who experience misogyny first-hand and want to see a cathartic commentary on it are just... getting off to female pain?!

like. 1) yeah i got into the feral teen girl cannibalism show because i wanted feral teen girls. i think everyone did. why does that have to say anything about me beyond... that i wanted an interesting story that has to be explored in fiction because it's not what i want to happen irl?

and 2) i think the writers just don't know what they're doing in either case. why make a show that is specifically unsatisfying across the board intentionally without anything to really balance that out? or do they just not know how to make it satisfying? i lean toward the latter lol, especially because even if there is a case for this idea to pan out... it doesn't feel like it was planned from the start.

"WE as the AUDIENCE are It, the It that hungers for spilled blood!" sure, but also i got into this show because the girls were supposed to be the ones hungering for spilled blood lol. both me AND the girls can want carnage. that's actually what was supposed to happen - teen girls unraveling without the restrictions of society, teen girls being just as awful as teen boys if not worse, teen girls losing their connection to humanity as they become one with the nature coiling around them in a way that makes you wonder if their descent is ACTUALLY a transition into what core humanity is supposed to be.

so... while i do like the twist that not all of them actually wanted the more recent hunting and feasting, that some of them are more attached to their humanity and various factions are plotting various forms of violence for better or for worse, that now that we actually KNOW the characters we can recognize them as people more than silent cloaked figures whose story we could only make as many unfair assumptions about as the in-universe public... i'm not sure it's being executed very well.

IF the actual takeaway is that We The Audience were just silly depraved monsters for WANTING the girls spiraling into unleashing the rage wound up in them from modern society, for WANTING the premise that they could be just as bad if not worse than the lord of the flies boys... then why was that the premise? it feels cheap to go "oooooh you wanted a show about carnage after being promised a show about carnage? Ha Ha, your disappointment in us not delivering actually says something about YOU and YOUR capacity for violence and YOUR cannibalism of people's trauma!" and that feels inappropriate as well as cheap, and really not as big of a gotcha as people think because these characters are NOT REAL. this isn't a sensationalized tv show about a real life serial killer bending to the will of whatever is most interesting, and while it was loosely based on the andes crash it is hardly comparable at this point.

i do think there is more time for the girls to have a more unified decline, or that the more feral faction will grow. i think there are also a lot of instances of violence and "selfish" tendencies, even if they aren't the ones we expected - passively "allowing" violence, rigging the card draw, etc. i also do think that at this point in the story--largely BECAUSE they got snapped back into themselves with the promise of near-rescue--they do need to be broken down more collectively to reach that point as a group. maybe we'll get that in season 4! or maybe the writers just didn't properly utilize the time between last winter and this one enough to get us there on time and this was what happened instead. so many more people need to die in such a short span of time, i'm not really sure what they're thinking.

ANYWAY. the show could bring in that angle, sure. but it also needs to have contained substance imo first. there are media where the whole point is commentary on entertainment, like the truman show. but that has always been a teensy tiny background blip in yj - we see the "what really happened out there?" true crime girlie fascination from people, we see tabloids and books theorizing, but it was always... less about that and more about their actual trauma carrying over into adulthood and how it impacts them. especially now, there really isn't much outside speculation, even after huge scandals like nat's death with the survivors present or taissa's political crash. now would be the perfect time to ground that element more. like. i got into a show about teens crashing in the wilderness and eating each other to survive, and while i SEE the point of an angle about how the in-universe treatment of the situation can reflect on similar in our own universe, i don't think our expectations of a narratively satisfying story can have that same conclusion extracted from it. there is a difference between kinda punishing the audience for engaging with fiction as fiction, versus giving a commentary on how people sensationalize true crime.

basically the "oOoOoO the show is ACTUALLY about how WE crave violence and theatrics at the expense of other people!" thing feels like a slap in the face lmfao. i unfortunately think that theory has merit after some stuff in season 3, so i don't blame the way some people are clinging to it, but if this was what the writers were intending (especially if you do take the citizen detective boards as a stand-in for the reddit forums the writers apparently spend too much time in) that doesn't sit right with me with what we currently have. that said, i also do think it's funny that people are more willing to believe that unsatisfying writing is a Grand Plan and not just... bad writing. this is especially weird to me as someone who didn't like season 2 and got a lot of shit for it, and i'm guessing a lot of people trying to "justify" their own declining love for the show with this theory are some of the same people who were pretty vile at our valid criticisms in s2. like... you can dislike the show, it's okay lol. even the people who work on it hate it, in case you haven't noticed.

melanie said it best:

"I think people have an idea that they’ve mapped out the entire series arc for me, and they very much haven’t. Season 1, I got told in great detail what was going to happen. That was kind of all I needed to hear at that point. I was like, 'OK, they really have a plan.' Then they said, 'Season 2 is gonna focus on this. Season 3, we think this is going to happen.' It was very vague for the rest of it. I just needed to know that they actually had a plan, not just, like, a cool pilot. So I don’t know where the story is going. I have no idea. After this season, I have less of an idea."

[sadbeautifutragic]

.

[sunkillerlovechild]

i finally forced myself to watch 9-1-1 and im going crazy

i got hooked cause of buddie edits and stuff and first of all they really dont do justice to how crazy they both are about eachother

secondly i got to the tommy part and its kind of like watching a car crash but also so on point for buck and eddie's relationship

[burinazar]

when i mention that i have the most individual MiA fics out of any author on AO3 i am not bragging. mostly i am sad about this. fic scene is very small, total of ~200 works in all languages

i am also always noting that the characters i'm likely to read/write about aren't the same ones as the characters most of the rest of the already-small fic reader and writer scene for The Hole Show is likely to read/write about. so the following results aren't news to me

but i hadn't thought to actually compare character tags for the whole fandom to character tags for my work, and the sheer disparity between 'tags of the fandom' and 'tags of the author who wrote the most individual fics in that fandom' is...funny lol. (left: MiA tag as a whole's most tagged characters; right: ebilfic's most tagged characters

[getvalentined]

An open letter to @staff

I already submitted this to Support under "Feedback," but I'm sharing it here too as I don't expect it to get a response, and I feel like putting in out in public may be more effective than sending it off into the void.

The recent post on the Staff blog about changing tumblr to an algorithmic feed features a large amount of misinformation that I feel staff needs to address, openly and honestly, with information on where this data was sourced at the very least.

Claim 1: Algorithms help small creators.

This is false, as algorithms are designed to push content that gets engagement in order to get it more engagement, thereby assuring that the popular remain popular and the small remain small except in instances of extreme luck.

This can already be seen on the tumblr radar, which is a combination of staff picks (usually the same half-dozen fandoms or niche special interests like Lego photography) which already have a ton of engagement, or posts that are getting enough engagement to hit the radar organically. Tumblr has an algorithm that runs like every other socmed algorithm on the planet, and it will decimate the reach of small creators just like every other platform before it.

Claim 2: Only a small portion of users utilize the chronological feed.

You can find a poll by user @darkwood-sleddog here that at the time of writing this, sits at over 40 THOUSAND responses showing that over 96 percent of them use the chronological feed*. Claiming otherwise isn't just a misstatement, it's a lie. You are lying to your core userbase and expecting them to accept it as fact. It's not just unethical, it's insulting to people who have been supporting your platform for over a decade.

Claim 3: Tumblr is not easy to use.

This is also 100% false and you ABSOLUTELY know it. Tumblr is EXTREMELY easy to use, the issue is that the documentation, the explanations of features, and often even the stability of the service is subpar. All of this would be very easy for staff to fix, if they would invest in the creation of walkthroughs and clear explanations of how various site features work, as well as finally fixing the search function. Your inability to explain how your service works should not result in completely ignoring the needs and wants of your core long-term userbase. The fact that you're more willing to invest in the very systems that have made every other form of social media so horrifically toxic than in trying to make it easier for people to use the service AS IT WORKS NOW and fixing the parts that don't work as well speaks volumes toward what tumblr staff actually cares about.

You will not get a paycheck if your platform becomes defunct, and the thing that makes it special right now is that it is the ONLY large-scale socmed platform on THE ENTIRE INTERNET with a true chronological feed and no aggressive algorithmic content serving. The recent post from staff indicates that you are going to kill that, and are insisting that it's what we want. It is not. I'd hazard to guess that most of the dev team knows it isn't what we want, but I assume the money people don't care. The user base isn't relevant, just how much money they can bring in.

The CEO stated he wanted this to remain as sort of the last bastion of the Old Internet, and yet here we are, watching you declare you intend to burn it to the ground.

You can do so much better than this.

Response to the Update

Under the cut for readability, because everything said above still applies.

I already said this in a reblog on the post itself, but I'm adding it to this one for easy access: people read it that way because that's what you said.

Staff considers the main feed as it exists to be "outdated," to the point that you literally used that word to describe it, and the main goals expressed in this announcement is to figure out what makes "high-quality content" and serve that to users moving forward.

People read it that way because that is what you said.

*The final results of the poll, after 24 hours:

136,635 votes breaks down thusly:

An algorithm based feed where I get "the best of tumblr." @ 1.3% (roughly 1,776 votes)

Chronological feed that only features blogs I follow. @ 95.2% (roughly 130,077 votes)

This doesn't affect me personally. @ 3.5% (roughly 4,782 votes)

[asidian]

A little heartbroken by the news, not going to lie.

But I'm going to keep creating for this fandom, because the characters have made a place in my heart, and I suspect they'll stay there for a good long while. This show and the fandom have been such a joy to partake in during a really rough time in my life, and I appreciate that more than I can say. I appreciate all of you who make the fandom what it is, too.

I guess in the end, Season 2 gets to be whatever we make it. So you know what? Let's all share our Season 2s. Nobody's going to stop us or tell us we're wrong.

So here we go. The Season 2 in my heart, in no particular order:

Desire shows up and puts Charles Rowland through the absolute wringer. He is losing his entire mind, he wants Edwin so bad. This boy has 17 different crises and finally a realization that he has been head over heels for some decades and he is just an idiot, actually

Payneland confession and a first kiss

They get Niko back from the Neitherlands. She's some flavor of undead, and she is having a grand old time, actually

Jenny sets up a butcher shop in London and goes on a date that doesn't try to kill her. With the Night Nurse

Crystal has a corruption arc with David buried in her soul-tree soil and at first they don't realize what's going on, but in the end the boys find a way to go into her heart-space and help her resolve the problem

The boys dance on-screen with some of those skeleton choreography dances

Mick mysteriously also has a shop in London. It straddles time-space and also realms. The characters are all ????? but no one ever figures out wtf is going on with that

Tragic Mick saves the day like a big damn hero with a bazooka like in the comics

The Cat King is around, generally being his trickster self, causing problems for funsies. He dies again and comes back as a fluffy white cat with glam white fur clothes

Charles gets kidnapped somewhere and Edwin has to go and save him. It's very dramatic and parallels S1 Ep7

Monty makes a showing in crow form. He has so many cute bird mannerisms. He gets fluffy in the London cold

The boys return to St. Hilarion's. They find their respective remains and come to terms with their deaths. They decide that, however tragic their deaths were, it led them to the only place they'd want to be: together

Crystal and Niko lay the boys to rest side by side, under the same headstone

[orangeblossomsintheair]

DAD SIMON THOUGHTS!!

im also in this fandom now ;>

simon’s fingers tapped restlessly against the edge of the table as you placed your mug down and sat across from him. he avoided your gaze, staring at a spot on the wall instead. his silence was deafening, stretching long enough to make you sigh.

“spit it out, simon,” you said gently, leaning forward.

“there’s nothing to spit out,” he muttered, but his clenched jaw betrayed him.

you tilted your head, watching him with that knowing look that always unnerved him. “you’re acting like the world’s about to end.”

he huffed a humorless laugh. “maybe it is.”

your brows knitted together, but there was no anger, only a concern that made his skin itch. “simon, talk to me.”

he nearly laughed at your face. you made it sound so easy.

how could he put that fear into words, knowing it might hurt you, knowing it might break something in you too?

“i can’t,” he finally admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “it’s not… i don’t want to say something I can’t take back.”

your lips pressed into a thin line as you reached out, taking his hand in yours. “you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared,” he shot back too quickly, tone defensive.

“you’re terrified,” you corrected softly, squeezing his hand. “and that’s okay.”

you tilted your head, trying to catch his eyes. “now, seriously. talk to me.”

he shook his head. “what if I’m not…good enough? what if I fail you? or our baby?”

your hand tightened around his, and you moved closer, your eyes unwavering. “you won’t. because you care too much to fail. and because you don’t have to do this alone.”

“i don’t know how to be…” he trailed off, his voice cracking.

“a father?” you finished for him, your voice warm.

he nodded, staring at your joined hands.

“you’re already doing it,” you said softly. “you’re here, si. that’s what matters most. the rest, we figure out as we go.”

simon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

he hadn’t said anything for a while now, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. you sat beside him, watching the way his shoulders tensed, his body a coiled spring ready to snap.

“i know you don’t believe me,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “no matter what I say, you’ve got it in your head that you’re not good enough.”

he didn’t respond, but his hands flexed slightly, like he was gripping onto some invisible weight he just couldn’t drop.

you exhaled, leaning closer, voice steady. “simon, I didn’t marry you because I thought you were perfect.”

he looked away, jaw tightening, but you pressed on.

“do you really think i didn’t know what i was getting into? i knew. and i still love you. i’ll always love you.” your hand rested on his, grounding him. “not because you’re perfect but because you show up. because you try, even when you’re scared. because you care, even when it hurts.”

his breath hitched, and for a moment, he didn’t move.

then he looked at you, his voice cracking as he whispered, “i don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“you don’t get to decide that,” you replied, smile soft but firm.

his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t quite know how. “bit bossy, aren’t you?”

you smirked, tilting your head playfully. “someone has to be, with you moping around like this.”

“moping?” his eyebrows lifted, the faintest hint of amusement creeping into his tone. “i don’t mope.”

“oh, you do,” you shot back, leaning back slightly but keeping your hands on his. “it’s very broody, very dramatic. could give shakespeare a run for his money.”

a dry laugh rumbled in his chest, and the sound warmed you more than you cared to admit. “didn’t know i married a comedian.”

“well, i didn’t marry a ray of sunshine, so i guess we’re even.” you grinned, poking him lightly in the ribs.

he caught your hand before you could do it again, holding it tightly but not enough to hurt. “careful,” he said, his voice low but teasing. “i’m dangerous, remember?”

your laughter bubbled out before you could stop it. “oh, please. you’re about as dangerous as a kitten when you’re sulking.”

he huffed, shaking his head, but the ghost of a smile finally broke through. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“and yet, here we are,” you cooed, leaning closer until your forehead was almost touching his. “you stuck with me, riley. for better or worse.”

he let out a long breath, finally letting the tension drain from his shoulders. “guess i can live with that,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze warm in a way that made your heart ache.

“you better,” you quipped, grin returning full force. “because i’m not going anywhere.”

his lips finally curved into a small, genuine smile. “good,” he murmured, pulling you closer into his arms. “i’d be lost without you.”

[three--rings]

One thing I haven't seen a lot of talk about in the fandom so far is about the financials of this season.

It took us two whole months to get a confirmation of renewal from Max, and I talked at the time that I think there was probably a lot of heated negotiations going on at the time with contracts and that's why it took as long as it did.

I think we see a huge number of indications of the compromises that were made in order for S2 to be made. One obvious one that has been talked about is being making in in NZ instead of LA, to save $.

But there's also the eight episodes instead of ten. And then the cast aspect. One downside of moving overseas was having to fly out and house the cast, not just pay day wages.

We knew immediately about Guz Khan not coming back, losing Ivan as a character. At the time I was sad but I thought it had the air of a pretty harshly practical call. If you went through the main recurring cast and said okay which character will affect the fewest things, has the least character interactions of anyone? It would be Ivan. (With the only competition being The Swede IMO, but he's Stede's crew and therefore a little more central.)

And then this season started and we got first The Swede sidelined and taken out of major scenes. And then I noticed that different members of the crew were simply absent for long stretches, like Wee John isn't around for ep 5 at all. And then Buttons takes flight.

Lucius and Pete aren't at the party for most of it. Fang isn't in the torture scene. Roach and Fang aren't in the bar. Etc. SCHEDULING IS HAPPENING.

The new characters are almost entirely played by NZ local actors, which is great, but also...cheaper.

In other words there are big signs that they did everything possible to give us a giant cast of almost everyone we love from S1, and cool new characters, in the most economical way possible.

And I'm grateful for it. I'm grateful we got S2, and it looks great, and it's well written, I'm having a blast, and we get to spend more time with this awesome cast.

But I also kinda think it needs to be said that the cost-cutting shows. That it shouldn't have been only 8 episodes, the pacing is off. That we miss every time someone from the ensemble isn't on screen.

That despite what they've put on screen looking very good, there's far less costuming budget, there's less elaborate sets, and it's a little disappointing. And it's clear it's not a lack of will or talent or vision but blatantly lack of money.

Look, streaming networks want brilliant shows that people love (that will get them to subscribe) but they very don't want to pay anyone to make them. That's like, the whole moment we're having right now.

Max puts out promos about how great it is to not have unions messing shit up in NZ. Well I have friends who are union costumers in LA and guess what union costumers did amazing last season. This season, well, I guess Stede got three whole shirts, so that's cool.

So I dunno. It's just stuff I think about. I'm not trying to be negative about the show in any way. I'm extremely happy with this season; I love it more than well, possibly any show I've ever been in fandom for.

But I see you, Max. You're cheap. You weren't that cheap when you were called HBO.

[sully-s]

Open in a different window to zoom in. So this is just a deep dive behind all the stuff I put in my last post I rolled back my picture before I did all the lighting and color changes to make certain details more visible. Fun fact I almost scrapped this whole picture at this stage because A. I was just burned out; this piece took me forever. B. As I kept getting more and more "neat" ideas to stuff in, I lost any real focal point, especially with the color scheme. After hours of trying to fix it in PS and failing, I was about to give up. I was like fuck it make it a night scene. Let me tell you all a world of lighting makes lol.

Anyways, enough about my struggles, let me give you the tour.

I love the idea that this corkboard was originally Phoenix's mood board in the beginning it just had his childhood pics from like the yearbook and that one time Larry got a polaroid camera. Then, a new year clipping about Edgeworth being Demon Prosecutor which led Phoenix to make his thesis about court drawings just so he could watch and see with his two eyes how much Edgeworth changed. - Then, later, he added Mia because she was his mentor. then Vinny (from the movie "My Cousin on Vinny") because like Vinny, Phoenix never understands court procedure but has very good instincts; and last Elle Woods who also went to law school for a boy basically his spirit lawyer lol. - Later, after Maya joined, she thought it would be funny to replace Phoenix's real reason to Steel Samurai. Also, it was fun because Will Powers was their client, so he should be their reason. Phoenix let them stay because it made Maya happy, and Phoenix knew that with Mia's death, she needed it. - I was going to add a sticky note from Miles that he approved, but I do like that Miles will never admit out loud or in writing that he enjoys the show. - A year later, Pearls tries to replace all the Steel Samurais with her drawings of Maya. Which Phoenix encouraged her to make during Maya's disappearance because facts. - Tid Bit: I was sad to cover up Will Powers' signature I really liked how it came out

Moving away from the mood board idea, I like that the cork board just became Phoenix's catch all. So his Law Degree which isn't the original it's just a sad printed-out version of what should've been his fancy embossed one. I like the idea that Phoenix never went to graduation. (Can't be bothered he's on a mission to save his childhood bff.)

Lastly are postcards from Edgeworth, his way of making up for all the years he couldn't write back to young Phoenix. - Also, this picture takes place some time after the 3rd game but before the disbarment.

Calendar whiteboard that I forgot to add the last row too so I guess in Japaniforina the months are only 25 days long.

I spent a frustrating amount of time trying to figure out the logistics of this paper trail. It really doesn't need to make sense It just has to make the room messier. - You can imagine Phoenix is looking over phone records or court stenographer's record.

So Edgeworth is a nerd; we all know this. But it annoys me just a tad that his nerd-isum is always just Steel Samurai (like I get it, it's canon), but all geeks have many fandom loves, okay. - So I just love the idea that Phoenix and Edgeworth (who are in a relationship at the time of this pic ) watch Better Call Saul, and they both bought each other a little plushie of the character they joke is them. -Edgeworth bought Saul for Phoenix (because of Saul's heart, not because he does shady practices), And Phoenix bought Kim (because she a really good lawyer who seems cold and is a workaholic who would break the rules for their Saul (used phoenix's badge in the third game )) - They keep each other's plushies in their offices, and if one of them stops by when the other isn't in, they put a sticky note on it. - Which we can see that Phoenix did need reminding because, as you can see, the date is 18th, and no mention of a dinner ;)

7. Now the whole reason I drew this picture was too show off my headcanon that Phoenix has a Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law action figure that you know Gumshoe got him after Edgeworth vs. State happen because of Polly. And we all know that man would be a fan of old Hanabara cartoons. - I've loved this stupid tid-bit of a headcanon that it's been haunting me for years. That's it; that's all I really wanted to say with this piece, and look where it got

[almostempty]

making this community inhospitable to racists does not mean posting another quarterly “fuck off racists” tag pls take a breath slow down and be serious for a minute instead of doing the circle jerk of performative outrage

If you have to clarify on your blog that you don’t want racists reading your fics think long and hard about that. Is that bumper sticker activism statement the ONLY thing alerting them that they’re unwelcome? Do you think they feel represented or find your blog relatable without that statement attached? It’s not about if you think you’re a good person or not

we’ve got an echo chamber of hypersensitive white women upholding the racist, colonial, patriarchal standard in their fics, in their art, in their reblogs, in their actions behaviors and the circles they cling to and strategically try to profit off of (in the form of attention bc literally what else are you getting from this???)

Who do you think is benefiting at the end of the day from the idolized trope of the small fragile quiet white coded female reader x hyper sexualized Latino ?

(Spoiler the answer isn’t even white women …it’s white men; they’re still the ones on top at the intersection of racism, imperialism, capitalism, and patriarchy.. don’t play yourself, they (systemically) want you to eat that shit up so they can keep their power)

instead of telling racists to get off your blog, stop catering to narratives that are designed to make white women feel comfy and special EVEN IF THAT MAKES YOU FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE

if it makes it hard for you to enjoy the fandom when you actively choose not to read those fics or engage with content that perpetuates the same stereotypes and you suddenly feel starved for content that’s the point, don’t let it go over your head

making the space inhospitable to racists means doing everything with intention so they CANNOT see themselves in the fics you write AND reblog, in the art, in the tags, or as your friend

the loud hate coming from anons is NOT going to be swayed by these posts

but you can change YOUR behavior to lessen the constant barrage of microaggressions our bipoc peers get pelted with when they open this app by not contributing or promoting more of the same

It’s like the same way ‘boundaries’ have been misconstrued from therapy speak, like you don’t set boundaries by telling someone else what they can’t do ..you set boundaries through YOUR actions.

Yell that you hate racism all day I guess, but if you’re gonna keep sharing work filled with racial stereotypes and hegemonic colonial masculinity disguised as kink, or putting white women on a pedestal then you’re still providing space for racists to feel cozy and justified and I’m so serious about that

Here have more to read:

What Fandom Racism Looks Like: Racist Fanworks, Done Out of Spite

What if we improved fandom somewhat?

From the second link:

If these posts annoy you say it out loud so *I* can remove *you* from my blog bc i don’t expect y’all to leave on your own bc that would require self-awareness

[maple-the-awesome]

Another Link Crushes On You || Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Hyrule, Time, Sky x GN Reader

Overview: You've known Link for years - Well, a version of Link. Neither of you have seen yourselves as being anything more than friends, although it seems not all Link's think the same, in fact when you're introduced to the Chain, one of the boys happens to fall pretty hard for you. I spun a wheel to let fate decide upon random pairs this time. Needless to say, I had a lot of fun with some of them😁

Zelda Masterlist 💙Fandom Masterlist

"Well, look what the cat dragged in. 'was beginning to think you might be dead in a ditch somewhere," You scoff, making your presence known as you lean against the door frame coolly while eyeing your long lost roommate and, more importantly, the company he’s brought home, "Hylia's sake, one of you is enough as it is. Now nine?"

Legend breathes your name in a sigh, not so much as glancing away from the chest he currently digs through, "I can always count on you for a warm welcome."

Despite the sarcasm and rolled eyes, you don't seem to actually hold any true disdain towards one another. Quite the opposite, an observant bystander would notice how the Vet's shoulders relax upon hearing your voice, and how there’s a slight curve to your lips following his snark reply. You’re someone who brings him comfort; someone the Chain can trust.

Pushing yourself from the doorframe, you give them a friendly smile and wave, “I take it you must be the other heroes Link’s told me about in his letters - Less I’m to believe he found yet another ragtag group of misfits to drag around with him…It’s nice to finally meet other people who can bear to put up with his nonsense. I’m his roommate, by the way. Sorry I wasn’t around last time you stopped by.”

"Oh, so he has two roommates then -?”

“- His actual roommate," You correct with an annoyed huff. Of course, it's only half hearted, "Ravio doesn't count since he doesn't pay rent."

"He should. He's around enough," Legend's voice is echoed by the chest.

There’s more conversation to be had as the two of you bicker, although much of it becomes muted ambience for Hyrule who takes to wandering the room in awe of his predecessor’s impressive collection. Boomerangs and gauntlets, hammers and feathers, even an entire little chest overflowing with enchanted clothing…Sure, it’s probably not practical to most, but an adventurer can dream, can’t he? Amongst all of this stuff, Hyrule can’t decide what seems more interesting. The magic rods? A library of maps? How about the unique magical instruments lining the walls?

“...You're the one who practically showed up on my doorstep just begging for a place to stay."

"Really? Because I remember finding and nursing you back to health out of the kindness of my heart after you got your ass kicked by a moblin.”

"I had everything under control -”

- Just then, while half distracted by the argument behind him, Hyrule accidentally bumps into a shelf which causes its contents to shake violently. His shoulders tense in preparation for the awful sound of shattering no doubt followed by Legend’s scolding, but before one of the potions can hit the floor, a hand skillfully dives to catch it.

“Careful there. You could really get hurt with some of the stuff in here,” You smirk, setting the potion back onto the shelf before turning around with your hands placed upon your hips, “I keep telling Bunny this place could be more spacious if he’d just sort through some of this junk, but he’s too emotionally attached to it all to ever take my advice.”

“It’s good to be prepared, I guess,” Hyrule stammers, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment - At least, that must be why he feels so nervous all of a sudden. What other reason would there be? 

“There’s already been a few times when the Vet’s items have saved our tails.”

You hum, cocking your head to the side as you look the brunette over. In all likelihood, it’s probably only a split second that your eyes glance his way, yet it’s enough to make him feel see-through. Are you judging him? Do you see how knotted his hair is or how desperately his face needs to be washed? 

Golly, you’re attractive yourself - which should be a perfectly normal thing to think because yes, conventionally speaking, you could be found very attractive and for good reason. How did Legend and you meet again? Did he say it was strictly platonic or are you already spoken for? Is that even something Hyrule should be thinking right now? Why would he be thinking such a thing when all you’ve done is look straight into his soul - …And you’re gone.

Regardless of whether you noticed Hyrule’s internal panic, you end up straying from his side to start sorting through a nearby chest yourself. If he hadn’t been stunned stupid, he would’ve heard the words you speak to the group while tossing aside items, “Here’s an idea: maybe some of you guys can take a few items off Link’s hands - Split them up amongst the group to get it out of our hair -”

“- Absolutely not!” Legend’s voice comes from somewhere over the heaps of junk, not that it does anything to stop you.

Finally finding whatever it was that you were looking for, you stand up and make your way back over to Hyrule. Before he can react beyond a jolt, you take his hand and place something in it before putting your own on top. Your touch is soft in contrast to his own rough skin. Oh, and that wink you give him - It’s enough to make his face explode in red. It could be deadly for his heart to race any faster!

“...Don’t let him catch you with it,” You whisper, and that smirk you give makes him certain you know what you’re doing.

“I - um - Oh, sure…I -”

You chuckle at the flustered boy, regrettably removing your hands from his before once again leaving his side. He thinks you say something about refreshments, maybe lunch, but honestly, he’s as good as gone to this world. It takes a bit of shaking from Four and shouting from Wind to properly snap him out of it, at least enough so to finally look down at his hand. 

There’s a small blue telescope in his grasp, and it’s with that that he finally decides: you are probably, by far, the most interesting thing to be found here in Legend’s collection.

This is nice - peaceful, even, which tends to be a rare gift these days. Granted, the sun is a little too bright, and it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if someone walks away from this island with a nasty sunburn (most likely Twilight and Wild), but at least there’s somewhat of a gentle breeze to balance out the heat, and a quiet moment protected from any childish shenanigans is never something to turn down.

Most of the boys have been whisked off by Wind who had deemed it a crime that some of them have never seen the sea before. Those who managed to escape his attention have hopefully been keeping out of trouble on their own, basking in much needed time to themselves elsewhere on the island (after all, it does get tiresome traveling in such a large group for so long).

It matters not which deity has decided to smile down upon him today and grace him with this break. What matters is Time’s relaxed - as relaxed as a man with his background and mindset can ever be - while standing here in the sun, soaking in its glow and your perfectly tranquil company.

Ah yes, he hasn’t been left entirely alone. You’re here, too, but unlike his traveling companions, you’re closer to his age and thus seem to match his level of maturity and easygoing nature - a godsent in these trifling times, really. 

Currently, you sit upon the porch humming a pleasant little tune while combing Aryll’s hair. She sits between your legs, happily swinging her feet as you work small handfuls at a time, your movements as gentle and careful as the breeze - And that adoring look in your eyes…It could be enough to melt any heart.

Time finds himself being put at ease by the domestic sight, wordlessly admiring how effortlessly you balance caring for the young child while conversing with a stranger like himself, speaking to him softly as if a personal friend of yours:

“Link’ll probably want to stay with his grandma tonight, but the rest of you might do better staying with me. I’m sure she’ll offer, though I’d worry about the stress hosting so many traveler’s would put on her,” You explain, skillfully dividing Aryll’s hair into two blue ribbons, “I have space in my own hut, so there’d be no trouble.”

“It’s nice weather,” Time mentions, gazing up at the clear sky above, “None of us would mind sleeping under the stars -”

“- No trouble at all,” You emphasize with a breath, pretending not to hear his own point. He merely smiles, having no will to argue. They haven’t been here long, and yet this is the second argument he’s unlikely to win against you. The first was your insistence that they stay the night at all with promises to host them well. 

Once finished with her hair, Aryll thanks you in a hurry before scurrying off to find her big brother. You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but soon after, there’s a shift in your mood. Suddenly, you grow a bit sad and anxious. Time can’t help noticing the concern that briefly overtakes your expression, twisting your lips into a frown as you raise a nail to nibble on. Now that you’re truly alone, he can no longer mock ignorance to how exhausted you look, and it takes no genius to understand why that may be.

“...Rupee for your thoughts?” Really? That’s the best he can come up with in all his years of wisdom? It’s such a lame way to break the silence and an even lamer way to start a serious conversation with someone you’ve only just met.

Fortunately, you don’t seem to hold any judgment against him. Instead you sigh and look at him from over your shoulder with a sorrowful smile, “Is my stress that obvious?”

“I’ve been around long enough to know a mask when I see one,” Pushing him off the beam he’s been casually leaning against, Time invites himself to finally sit beside you on the steps. 

You don’t say anything all too quickly in response, rather you turn back to the sea with a deep inhale.

“...I worry about him,” You eventually confess through a whisper,“Every time he comes back from one of his adventures, he’s…different. Not enough so for anyone else to notice, but I do. He’s getting older - more mature, for better or for worse - and the things he’s had to witness - the battles and responsibilities that no child should ever have to bear - I can’t help seeing how it’s all starting to wear him down, slowly but surely.

“...And I know - I know this is his destiny and that he’s already saved the world once. I know he can handle himself, but he’s - he’s still just a boy! He shouldn’t have to bear the burden of the world upon his shoulders! He should be running around this island, digging for treasure in the sand and catching pigs. Instead he’s finding treasure in dangerous dungeons and fighting pigs!”

Time frowns. What can he say to comfort you? That it’s all going to get better? That maybe, one day, Wind will return home and stay for good? Even though you’re a stranger he has no obligation to, he can’t bring himself to provide an empty promise like that, because out of all the heroes here, he knows best that it would be a lie. This road they’re on - This road the Goddesses have sent each of them down - There is no end to it…Not one that he’s found, anyway…

Fortunately or unfortunately, Time doesn’t get the chance to collect his thoughts nor offer any words of encouragement (if he could’ve even decided on some). You sigh before he has a second to respond, suddenly looking back at him with an optimistic smile only half fitting of the current mood, “...You’ll keep an eye on him, won’t you? Make sure he doesn’t get too ahead of himself, at least during the time that you’re all traveling together?”

"You have my word."

At a minimum, he’s able to give you that promise. The road ahead is rugged and treacherous with fearsome monsters around every corner…but Time can promise that he’ll give his all to protect those in his party. No harm shall fall upon any of the boys so long as he’s able to take a blade within his own hand. He’ll see to it that Wind returns to your arms at the end of this journey, safe and sound with plenty more stories to tell.

Your sigh releases some of the tension kept within your mind and bones, “...I wish none of you had to go through any of this…”

“At times I wish the same…” His agreement is flat and not exactly what you had hoped to hear, even if it is expected, but at least his next words seem to touch your heart more tenderly, “...But it’s not ourselves who we fight for. It’s people like you; people who deserve to live to see times of peace. The world’s safety will always be payment enough.”

As a captain in the Hylian Royal Army, Warrior’s experience doesn’t quite follow the same origin as most of his counterparts. His training had been professional and grueling, the weight upon his shoulders more direct than a mere whisper in the wind guiding him. He didn't have the luxury of stumbling upon his destiny or sneaking in to find Ganondorf when the time was right - No, he was publicly named then pushed by circumstances to meet Ganondorf on a battlefield, of all places.

It’s a life few in the Chain can exactly relate to, although some similar undertones aren’t missed upon Wild and Sky. While Wild isn’t one to draw any attention to it, perhaps not remembering enough about himself to know why any of this may or may not feel familiar, Sky’s a bit more acclimated to this systematized environment than his brothers, even if it is still rather different than home.

The army of this world clearly functions on a far larger scale than any of the knights back on Skyloft, and the air carries more tension than what could ever be found in a classroom, even on testing days. Nevertheless, Sky appreciates how much pride Warrior takes in showing off his world, not letting the stern expressions of anyone they pass dampen his excitement, after all, despite some previous experience fighting alongside inhabitants of other timelines, it’s rare that he’s given the chance to be the host himself, not a simple guest.

"There's someone I'd like you guys to meet!" The Captain announces at the same moment his eyes and smile lighten considerably. Clearly, he’s spotted a new target, one he makes a quick b-line for with the others close on his trail.

A call of your name is all it takes to capture your attention, although contrast to Warrior’s spark, you seem far less amused with your reunion.

“And where have you been?” You hiss, your narrowed eyes disapproving as they basically dare your friend - colleague, maybe? - to try excusing his sudden absence and casual reappearance. Now that’s an expression that really sends Sky back to his days at the Academy! Why, he’s only seen it about a hundred times on his instructors over the years!

"Working," Warrior must be accustomed to being on the receiving end of such a harsh glare, because he completely fails to even acknowledge it, instead swiftly changing subjects as he gestures to the heroes behind him with much fanfare, “I came here to introduce you to -”

"- Sailor!” It’s funny how quickly your expression switches, igniting like a fueled fire. Within seconds, you’re rushing right past Warrior to embrace the youngest hero of their group, “Now there’s a face I’ve missed! Long time no see. Oh, look at you! Have you gotten taller?”

Luckily, Wind seems just as happy to see you, giggling and practically hanging onto you as you rub your knuckles into his hair. With your arm still tossed over his shoulder, you raise an eyebrow towards the rest of the Chain who now feel suddenly out of place, not certain if they should also know you.

Warrior comes up to your side to explain, “Funny story, but everyone you see before you is a reincarnation of the hero’s spirit.”

“Ah! Heroes from different times?” You gasp, pressing a finger to your chin as you look them all over with serious consideration yet hardly any surprise. Maybe you’re just as used to this sort of thing as Warrior is, “...Now that you say that, some of them do seem a bit familiar…”

“You must be the Hero of Twilight Midna spoke of!” You conclude with a point towards their Rancher who jolts. Whether because of the sudden attention or the mention of a sore name, he won’t get the chance to say, “I’m guessing so anyway, based on her descriptions, although I must say, she made you sound more…-”

“- Brutish? Rugged?” Warrior’s smirk is smug yet sadly untouchable amongst the careful watch of the surrounding military.

“I was looking for a nicer word, but that is what she said, isn’t it?” You sigh with a defeated shrug before turning to the oldest of the group. You gasp once again, this time with more heart, “And you! You kinda look like -! But it couldn’t be…Is that you Sprout?

“Talk about someone getting taller! The last time I saw you, you were only yea high!” Time’s thankful that you don’t give him the same treatment as Wind, instead minding your distance while awing at the height difference between you both now, although your smile soon turns sorrowful the longer you look him over, “...Your adventures haven’t been kind to you, have they?”

“In case you haven’t already guessed, this is the historian friend I’ve mentioned before - The one who probably knows more about us than we’re to know about ourselves at this point,” Warrior finally explains to his confused friends, coming up to place his hands upon your shoulder, “Give us a favor and try not to overheat now.”

“Oh don’t be so jealous,” You shoot him an unamused glare and swat him away, however he’s saved from any more scolding when you at long last look to Sky. Based upon what little the Captain has mentioned about you up until this moment, you’re a simple Hylian with no powers beyond your strength with a sword and impressive knowledge of Hyrule’s history…So why is it that your eyes have suddenly managed to freeze him like stone?

"As for you, I recognize that shield from Skyloft's era which means...You must be the Hero of Sky!" Your expression once again lights up like a beacon as you swiftly take his hand and give it a firm shake, not seeming at all fazed by his stunned stance, "You're the Master Fi spoke of, I take it? It's an honor to meet you."

"I, uh - It's an honor to meet you, too," At least he gathers enough of his wits to stumble out some words.

"I must say, Skyloft was one of my favorite places we visited during the war. Such a peaceful island - Well, after getting past the life-or-death battles that brought us there in the first place," You say, nudging Warrior as the two of you snicker. Oddly enough, Sky feels a bit disappointed to lose your focus and even more so to see the bond Warrior and you clearly share. Why, though? Why feel so omitted from someone he’s just met?

Fortunately, the negative feelings don't sink too deep until your attention becomes solely trained on him, "There's so little that has survived in our history books about your time - a real shame, too. As the first hero, I'm sure you have some unique experience under your belt."

"I-I guess you could say that…" Sky mumbles awkwardly, shooting a hand up to rub the back of his neck. Then, suddenly feeling a bit bold, he decides to test his luck with an offer, "I could, um, tell you about them if you want?"

Your eyes widen while Warrior rolls his, "You shouldn't have suggested that -"

"- Really?! Well, I'd love to hear it!" Before he can react, you have Sky’s hands sandwiched between yours, your touch impressively soft despite your years of training and fighting or maybe he’s just imagining them that way, "Could you start with the Imprisoned? We fought it a couple of times during the war and man, was it a pain. Fi mentioned you thought it yourself several times. Tell me, how did you -"

"Aaand we lost them…" Warrior groans, face smacked against his hand as you practically drag Sky off without so much as a goodbye to the others, "We're not going to get a word in ourselves for a while now. Let’s just go see if we can’t get an audience with the Queen and come back for them later.”