#please forgive the formatting

[justskulkingaround]

I’m so fucking angry. I’m just talking to my phone right now so if this is just gonna be an unedited paragraph I don’t really care. I’ve made sure to block both of them on fucking Tumblr. I don’t give a shit anymore. They can’t handle being called. shitty friends I understand I didn’t bring it up in the best way, but I was actively watching my spouse. Have breakdown after breakdown after breakdown after breakdown over this whole thing but they can’t stand to be called. Shitty friends and anytime they fucking talk about it it was more about how I handled it incorrectly more than the fact, Spouse was going through depressive episodes because of them and any apology was only ever fucking footnote. I’m so angry. I’m so done I’m done and I’ll vent whatever but I’m so angry.

But oh no, I was being problematic because I wasn’t handling at the best bitch you can’t be all about how you need to accept people when they’re not doing great and then feel so unsafe bitch you could’ve added them to the group chat if you wanted to I don’t I don’t care you could’ve I didn’t have to, but you wanted to make me Screenshots like the way that a 15 year-old does a callout post to make sure to send to my spouse is if I haven’t been telling them everything you both assume that they know nothing and they know everything should’ve stopped me 

And the last text to Spouse about breaking off the friendship, the apology to them was still a footnote what the fuck and sure I wasn’t being the most polite, but I was done watching my Spouse be walked over over and over and over again, and I guess I should be expecting that the friendship was over because oh my God, one of them got hit so hard in the ego that they couldn’t take it, like four years, but oh no the long time friend picking the new BFF and the person who fucking flirts with them while they’re in a relationship over anything else? 

I can’t I can’t believe this maybe I can whatever

And they felt so unsafe being told that they were wrong because they were wrong 

[blushouyo]

EGO DEATH

[valerian-riverheart]

How are we doing wizards

[forgottenchapterszine]

AUGUST UPDATE

Most items, including the zine, have been completed and are now undergoing quality control. Only the C-3PO foil postcard is still in production!

But this means that we’ll be shipping soon!

We appreciate everyone’s patience!

[inksandpensblog]

Worldbuilding for the bug!Purple AU is hard because on one hand there’s what the beetlesticks perceive to be happening and on the other hand there’s what’s actually happening in a game-mechanics sense. And I keep crossing the wires ^^’

For example:

Upon world generation, beetlesticks spawn naturally from blocks of flowering azalea leaves, which naturally generate as a part of azalea trees.

Beetlefolk don’t know this, though, since as in-game entities they don’t grasp world-generation as a concept;

they have their own creation myth, and it doesn’t involve azalea flowers at all

(but it is alarmingly close to the truth of how beetlesticks were actually added to the game…which they also don’t know).

The significance which azaleas and azalea trees actually have in their culture is as navigational landmarks and neutral/peaceful zones.

Alongside all this, the mating ritual of beetlesticks involves a trade of flowers between the two prospective parents.

One might assume that, due to being the spawn block, flowering azalea leaves might root themselves in the beetlefolk cultural zeitgeist as the ideal breeding flower, even if they wouldn’t know why.

However, the only beetlefolk who do associate azalea trees with breeding are those of the beetlestick variant which dwells on mushroom field islands,

because mushroom field islands are the only habitable biome which offers no other flower options.

(Though small mushrooms are an alternate option for mating, if the couple are feeling unconventional.)

Beetlefolk of any other beetlestick variant will instead have their choice of available flowers to pick from, leaving azalea flowers to be culturally disassociated from the mating process that they’re technically still viable for.

The mates’ choice of flower is regarded with significance, as certain flowers are believed to grant certain blessings to the child.

[dearratboii]

Never Let Me Down Again

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

Remember the live action Justice League movie that came out a few years ago? Earlier today i had a dream about what was essentially a sequel movie, where everyone in the live action DCU get together to stop the big bad yadda yadda. And SOMEHOW they managed to get Ryan Reynolds to reprise his role as Green Lantern. Like no reboot. Its straight up that same Green Lantern from the 2011 movie i have only one memory of and im pretty sure was a flop. But heres when it gets funny. Every scene with him in it was filmed like Deadpool. His first appearance involved him running from the cameras screaming that he'd never wear the CGI suit again. He keeps breaking the fourth wall to absolutely roast himself and the other characters (*cough* Batman *cough*) and most importantly the crew. The first time they all suit up he cycles through a ton of super suits Scooby Doo unmasking reveal style until its something that passes for a GL suit. The JL are beyond done with him but they can't break the fourth wall like he can so they can't physically stop the Ryan Reynolds shenaniganery. The rest of the movie is broody and serious this is JUST every Hal Jordan scene

[togo--mimori]

I have a LOT of feelings about kaisers backstory. Mostly positive? My opinions on his character have only really gotten better tbh. Like, he's not a good person. But he is definitely a product of his environment.

I think he does care about Ness in his own twisted way. But he doesn't know how to recognize positive emotions. He doesn't know how to form lasting relationships without manipulation and insults.

Kaiser never got therapy, or even really a trustworthy adult (that we know of yet) to sit him down and try to break through the shell he formed after all those years. It's all he knows, it's all he has to work with. He has no frame of reference for friendship and love. New emotions and feelings are scary, they feel wrong sometimes. So he sticks to what he knows and does it the best he can.

The only thing that's changed is we know WHY Kaiser is how he is. I don't have it in me to hate him now that it's confirmed he's incredibly mentally ill due to his fucking awful and unstable formative years. He's a bad person, but he hasn't always been. But he's not beyond hope or help, like anyone is.

Not supporting anything he's done, just appreciating a well written character. Seeing bits of my broken past mirrored on a fucking rat tail anime man has been an experience.

[caramel-catss]

suthorn boy

on ao3

word count: 1.4k

concept work about link and zelda not knowing each other before eow happens

Zelda just can't get her mind off the boy who saved her. She visits his house, hoping to learn more about him.

From the beginning, he stood out to her.

A boy clad in green throws himself into battle against Zelda’s kidnapper with seemingly no fear. His face is set quietly, cautiously; he practically has no expression. White, stone-like eyes gleam as he fires an arrow at her cage.

The mysterious boy idles in her mind from there. He’s pushed back by other things: fleeing from the rift, reuniting with her father, escaping the castle… the entire day becomes a blur.

Hints of him are everywhere—the abandoned house in Suthorn, talks of a swordsman. Zelda quietly pockets these thoughts. They feel important.

Her suspicions are reinforced, then, when she comes face-to-face with the boy once more. Violet voidmagics drip off of him as he turns, corpse-like, and faces her with ruby-red eyes. Zelda knits her eyebrows. Tri clings to her shoulder, then hides behind her. 

Zelda backs up, clinging to the Trirod. The boy steps forward in a hypnotic rhythm, then leaps, brandishing his sword. Zelda spins out of the way, gasping in surprise. “Summon keese!”

Tri obliges as Zelda leaps to get away, hoping the echoes will distract him. He bats them away easily. As the triangles return to Tri’s tail, Zelda’s heart rate rises.

She switches to a moblin. It’s better, if only slightly—he seems to be stronger against echoes specifically. As she backs away, he catches her eye. She doesn’t know this boy, and yet… something about him seems so off, especially compared to last time.

When he disappears, he drops a sword. The handle is cracked and crumbling. When Zelda picks it up, a feeling pierces her skin and wraps around her. She blinks and reawakens again some seconds later.

“Zelda?” Tri asks. Zelda coughs. She picks up the blade with the hem of her dress and pockets it.

“I’m okay,” she murmurs, lost in thought.

Zelda returns to Suthorn Village with a goal in her mind.

‘Link’ was the name that Lueburry gave her. It rings in her head, familiar in a way she can’t place. She can’t get this boy off her mind. Making for the house that sprouts moss and flowers, Zelda is eyed by villagers around her.

“Excuse me, miss,” A boy calls. Zelda turns. “Um, sorry for asking… but your cloak, it looks a lot like my friend’s. His name is Link. I was just wondering… um, if you’ve run into him at all…?”

Lueburry had told her about the cloak. Zelda’s heart clenches at the sight of a young, worried child, and she lightly bends her knees to make eye contact with him. “Don’t worry about him, little one. He’ll come home safely.”

The boy sighs in relief. “Oh, good… he promised he would play with me later, but he’s been gone for a few days now…”

“He will!” Zelda assures. “He’s just a little busy right now. I promise that after he’s done, he’ll come play with you.”

“Okay! Thank you, cloak lady!” With a grin, he runs off. Zelda gazes after him, a small smile on her face. Link plays with the village kids… and they care about him.

Straightening, Zelda turns to the entryway. She trails her hand on the wooden doorframe. It’s serene in here. Deathly quiet, frozen as stone, yet… somehow, it’s peaceful.

“Zelda,” Tri asks. Zelda peaks up at her companion. Tri floats close to her face, pondering. “...Why did you tell the child that? We don’t know if Link will come back.”

She frowns. “I don’t want someone so young to be that worried. He’s just a boy… it would be cruel to tell him how little we know about Link’s fate.”

“But that wasn’t…” The little creature seems confused. “You don’t know the swordsman, right? The way you were talking about him—it was like you were friends.”

Zelda studies the room. “You’re right, I don’t know him.” She spots a flowerpot on a dresser and makes her way to it. “I pretended I did in order to calm that child.”

“Why?”

“...I’m actually not quite sure. It’s almost instinct to protect the young, even just by comfort. Maybe that’s it.”

Tri swims to Zelda’s shoulder and perches on it. “I don’t really understand. …Your kind care for each other a lot.”

“Mm.” Zelda breaks the house’s spell by lifting a broom and gliding to the fireplace. She reaches the handle up and cleans away a cobweb. “Well, you care about freeing your friends, right? I guess it’s not that different. We care about others because they’re another person.”

“Well,” Tri stammers, “I have to free them so they can mend the rifts. And… I don’t like that they’re trapped.”

Zelda smiles. “That’s the same feeling that made me respond to the boy. I didn’t like the thought of him being that beside himself because he was worried about Link. I could fix that, so I did.”

“Oh.”

“Do you get it now?”

“...Yes, I think… kind of.”

Zelda reaches to Tri; she gently pats Tri’s head. Her companion leans into her touch.

Link’s coat feels heavy on her shoulders. When she first received it, the cloth had a distinct smell. It was warm—almost as warm as Tri is. Holding Tri again reminds her of this. This entire house smells like the cloak did.

It’s quiet as Zelda sits on a tiny wooden stool. Her lips are pressed into a frown. Link is just a Suthorn boy; he’s a village-dweller, someone common and simple. If the rifts never existed, he might have lived an entirely normal life. The thought snags on Zelda’s mind.

Why did he… risk his life for her?

She doesn’t know this boy. It wasn’t until some hours ago that she even learned his name. And yet, he ran into danger for her like it was nothing. When a rift caught him, he grabbed his bow and freed her instead of panicking. His hood is the one concealing her face from the soldiers searching for her. Despite everything, she can’t figure out a single reason why.

People have tended to Zelda all her life. As princess, she has countless servants and is always waited on by her nanny, Impa. She’s been taken care of forever. In fact, these past few days are the first time she’s ever had to fend for herself. Could Link’s motivation just be that she’s the princess?

Zelda’s face drops. …She hopes not.

“It could be that feeling,” Tri says. Zelda jolts; she didn’t realize she’s been thinking out loud. “The one you were just describing to me. Maybe Link did it because he didn’t want you to fall into a rift.”

Tri’s words hold merit. Zelda can move in rifts, but how could Link have known that? Maybe he really is that selfless… it makes sense, considering his other actions.

“He wanted to save me,” Zelda murmurs. Tri nods. “Hopefully… not just because I’m a princess…”

“Because you’re another person.” Tri echoes Zelda’s earlier words.

“...Yeah.”

Zelda stands. She still feels a bit guilty. Link is in a rift somewhere; he’s suffering that fate because he saved her.

“I want to save him, too,” she decides. They’ve already been searching for Link, but saying it out loud cements it for her. “...I have to.”

Tri makes a noise of agreement and bounces off Zelda’s shoulder, nodding. Newfound determination fills Zelda, and she gets an idea.

Zelda takes a bottle off of Link’s barrel and opens it. A little bit of water is pooled inside—perfect! Leaving Tri floating, Zelda makes her way back across the room. She stands in front of a large plant.

“What are you doing?” Tri asks.

“I don’t know how long Link will be gone,” Zelda explains. “Or if anyone will check on his house in the meantime. There was already a cobweb that I cleaned out… so I’ll water his plants, too.” She tips the bottle, letting the water drip into the pot. Turning around, she repeats this with Link’s flower.

Link really did leave his house in a hurry. Zelda caps the bottle and replaces it. She pulls Link’s blanket back over his bed. She’s not entirely sure how to make a bed because her servants always do it for her; hopefully just tugging it straight-ish is enough.

Little facts about Link join Zelda’s list. Suthorn boy. Stolen away as a child. Swordsman. He’s mute. He likes flowers. He grows plants. He plays with the village kids.

He saved her. He’s missing. She will save him, too.

[winterlyre]

[syrcus]

FFXIVwrite 2024 Prompt 5: Stamp

Non-WoL OC. Set during Shadowbringers, spoilers for 5.0 story. Either the beginning or middle of the Thancred/Denh ship depending on how hard you squint at it. 1562 words ao3 link

The arrival of the Warrior of Light is rarely a quiet affair.      The Rising Stones' main door slams, their voice bounces seemingly without end off the stone walls, amplifying itself. Denh ignores them. After all, she has a job to do, though it may drain and vex her. Whatever business brings Quoye Mhoros to Mor Dhona can remain their own, as far as she's concerned.

     She retains her focus with intent, channelling aether from the environment around her, into the pit of her heart, turning it over and allowing it to flow down through her arms and to the hand she holds. Her fingers tingle with the warmth of it, and perhaps a little with inactivity, but over the past weeks this particular aetheric manipulation has become a speciality of hers. How many days has she spent, lately, sitting in this chair immobile, doing naught but preserving the empty husks of the people she loves?

     Her gaze glides over her current charge, a knot gathering in her core.  Thancred was once one of her closest friends, almost more, and yet.  And yet, in recent years she has avoided him, treated him with pointed indifference whenever their paths were forced to cross.  She has been cold, she has been immovable, and now that he's gone it shames her.

     "Denh!" Even through the thick wooden door of Dawn's Respite, Quoye's distinctive holler is barely muffled. "Anyone seen Denh? Somebody point me at- Oh, is she? Should've known." And with that, the door bursts open, and the Warrior of Light through it. Denh's breath leaves her in a weary sigh. She doesn't look at them, or even otherwise acknowledge them; she keeps her eyes on Thancred, committing his face carefully to memory. Even the most minor change could bode ill for him, in this state.      Were his eyes always so sunken? she wonders. Is this a worrying sign, or did I simply fail to notice? Gods, when is the last time I truly looked at him? Nobody had expected this, of course. She could never have been expected to know, all those years she spent angry and hurt, how easily the people she loved could be taken from her. She'd thought she had more time.

     Quoye's footsteps echo against the walls, quick and excited, far too upbeat for a room like this. The candle on the dresser by Thancred's cot sputters, flickering in the disturbed air as the Warrior of Light draws to a stop beside her.

     "Hi Denh," they chirp, sounding altogether too pleased with themself. Quoye's energy is infuriating at the best of times, even moreso now. She sets Thancred's hand down atop his chest and turns to them.

     "What do you want, Quoye." What are her odds, she wonders, of successfully setting them on fire? She'd never let it show, of course, but she's considered the question more and more often of late: Hydaelyn's Blessing may protect them from primal influence, they may have bested some of the world's strongest in combat, but surely a fireball to the face would take down even this vaunted hero? Some hero, anyway. What good have they done for Thancred and Shtola and the twins?      Quoye grins impishly back at her and laughs, bright and clear, blissfully unaware of the resentment Denh holds for them. Too bright for a room filled with such stagnant misery.

     "I've got something for you," they reply, in quite possibly the most aggravating singsong tone Denh has ever heard, brandishing a sheet of carefully folded paper and wiggling it above her head. "I think you'll like it." She considers snatching it, but Quoye is considerably taller than she is and could easily pull it from arms reach - which, she realises, is likely exactly what they're hoping for. She squares her shoulders and fixes Quoye with a level gaze. She will not embarrass herself for their amusement.  They can give her the note or not, it makes little difference.

     "Then hand it over and be on your way." She keeps her tone brusque, matter-of-fact, and for added effect extends an open hand. The intent is clear; put it in my hand and get lost. Quoye blinks a couple of times, perhaps surprised she didn't rise to their bait. Her tail flicks with irritation. "Now, Quoye. As you can see, I am busy and I am tired."      Hearing herself speak, she sounds tired. More than she'd expected. When is the last time she held a conversation that wasn't just a brief exchange, updating Krile on the vital signs of her closest friends? Quoye visibly deflates, apparently realising, at last, that this is neither the time nor the place for such gleeful behaviour. What thoughts exist in that empty skull? Denh finds herself thinking.

     Quoye sighs, looking vaguely ashamed, and places the note on a nearby table. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking, see… Everyone's fine, Denh. I was just talking to 'em all and they're fine, so I didn't…" They speak quickly, rubbing awkwardly at the back of their neck as they do. They look around at the lifeless Scions, their ears a little more lowered than usual. "Anyway. You'll want to read that soonish, I've gotta get back and he didn't say as much but I reckon he was mayhaps hoping for a reply- Not to rush you!" They wince. "Slightly to rush you, 'cause like I say I can't loiter long. I'll be out front. Sorry."      And they leave as quickly as they came.

     Alone again, or as alone as one can be in a room filled with empty bodies, Denh regrounds herself. She tries to ignore the note on the table, retrains her focus on Thancred; poor Thancred, sickly and grey in the candlelight. She breathes in deep, closes her eyes, drawing the aether back around her ready for use as she has done so many times.  It's delicate work, sustaining someone's corporeal form without them inside it, with little margin for error, but in recent weeks it has become as natural to her as breathing.      Today, though, when she reopens her eyes, they float unbidden back to that note on the table, and the aether she's so carefully collected fizzles and dissipates.  She tries to draw it back, but the unknown hangs in her mind like a bad omen.  Quoye hadn't mentioned the sender by name; had she imagined it, or had their gaze lingered on Thancred when they'd said 'he' was hoping for a response?  She quickly shakes that thought free.  Hope helps nobody, she learned that one young.  Hope leads to disappointment, hope lets one down.      That settles it.  I have to read that hells-damned letter.

     "Sorry, Thancred," she says quietly, almost a whisper.  "I shan't be away long."      She leaves the room in a few determined paces, grabbing the note and stuffing it into her shirt for safekeeping on her way out.  She passes Krile in the main foyer, hurriedly asks her to take over aether-sustaining duty for a little while without giving any excuse for her own abandonment of it, and skitters off up the stairs.      The dormitory hallway has never felt so long, nor had she ever realised before just how far down it her own room lies.  Try as she might to keep it away, by the time she reaches her door a small, irritating hope has settled in her chest.      She locks the door behind herself, and only once that's done does she pull the paper from her shirt and really look at it.

It's folded neatly, carefully, though now slightly crumpled.  A small drop of wax seals it closed, pressed flat with what looks, from the imprint, to be a one gil coin.  She flips it over, and sees her own name handwritten across the front in spindly, vigorous cursive.  Her breath catches.  That is, without a doubt, Thancred's handwriting.      She sinks to the floor, picking free the wax seal absentmindedly.  What could possibly be so important for Thancred to write to her from across the void, and send the hero of the realm to deliver it?        Perhaps he can offer some insight on his, and the others', condition.

     She unfolds the letter.

          Denh, Truth be told, I am not wholly sure you will welcome this correspondence.  You were, if I recall, not entirely pleased with me when last we spoke.  Would you believe me if I were to tell you that it feels like a lifetime ago? In some ways, I suppose it has been.  I have had more time to think since my... "collapse" than one may imagine, and it is my - perhaps vain - hope that you might wish to become acquainted with the man I have found myself to be. I am deeply sorry.  For all I've had you endure. If you are not averse, I should very much like to hear back!  How are things at the Rising Stones?           Sincerely,           Thancred. p.s.  You may wish to employ a wax seal of your own, should you choose to reply.  Quoye showed an unnerving degree of interest in the contents of this letter when I asked them to deliver it.

     A lone droplet of water lands upon the page as she reads the last line, smudging the ink.  Another quickly follows it.  She blinks, brings a hand to her eyes, and is almost surprised to find that she's begun to cry.

[popppyfur]

...Im having thoughts and i need a 2nd opinion.

How long ago do we reckon trolls were caught/eaten/found by bergens? (relative to the great escape for simplicity)

lemme walk you through my thoughts...

we dont know how the tunnels got there, did the trolls dig them? or something else? or were they always there?

When did Peppy decide to use the tunnels? when were they discovered?

How many trolls did the bergens eat. surely at first they must have bean eating HEAPS of trolls daily before realised that they would run out. how long was it until then?

It had to have been long enough that they would have then decided to make trollstice (help cant spell) a yearly tradtion. could it at first have been monthly?

We dont know how many pop trolls there were at first. have their number gone down? by how much? since more being eaten means less babies.

How many queens/kings were at the troll tree? Just peppy? his parents? But that raises the question of wether or not any of the escaped trolls remember a time before the bergens.

-- A brand new, different anon.

GOD you reminded me of when i eventually realized how massively fucked the pop trolls were pre 1st movie. i remember trying to read everything i could that talked about it and staying up til 4 am to do it because holy hell they were being eaten on a yearly basis. IM HOLDING UR HAND AND SHAKING IT REALLY HARD. and im gonna answer this as jumbled as i can bc. its me. the professional yapper.

on that note ! all under read more to spare everyones dashboards

also, i havent really gone through actual specific numbers, my brains just settled on some vague decision that the pop trolls dont pass the hundreds, or five hundreds. that is to say, poppy would probably still try to know everyone by name just bc she would lol. so i hope you guys can just make up imaginary numbers of years too !!

we dont know how the tunnels got there, did the trolls dig them? or something else? or were they always there? When did Peppy decide to use the tunnels? when were they discovered?

ive always kinda assumed that the pop trolls dug it themselves! they knew about it long enough that they bothered to leave behind decoys of themselves after all. im assuming its a part of a long, long long list of attempts to escape, and they finished digging just a bit before the last trollstice. peppy wasnt gonna risk losing any more, especially since poppy herself was gonna be given to gristle

How many trolls did the bergens eat. surely at first they must have bean eating HEAPS of trolls daily before realised that they would run out. how long was it until then? It had to have been long enough that they would have then decided to make trollstice (help cant spell) a yearly tradtion. could it at first have been monthly? We dont know how many pop trolls there were at first. have their number gone down? by how much? since more being eaten means less babies.

i lost the damn reddit post so im gonna make my own screenshot instead LOL

from left to right, classical, techno, pop, funk, country, and the red blob under them; rock with a mix of other trolls

so like. THIS FUCKING DEVASTATED MEEEEEEEEEEEE. assuming theres more classical trolls just off screen, the visible sheer difference in numbers from the pop trolls in comparison to the other tribes (FUNK IS AN OUTLIER HUMOR ME) just. genuinely left me a bit speechless.

and if you go back to the first movie and remember that the entirety of their village fit in branch's bunker not to mention the DAMN POT? it just. really puts itself into perspective. bc that stage was still relatively big, but the pot. the fucking pot. the entirety of pop village

ALL of them. in THERE? isnt that crazy? we can say that some escaped, sure. but just the fact that they couldve gotten wiped out just like that is so. messed up to me man ToT

i dont remember which fic i read it from anymore, but there was a line going how the pops initially outnumbered the other tribes and thats how they were ever able to threaten actually overtaking everyone. and like. YEAH SURE. fuck me up even more like that why dont ya!!!!!

so suffice to say, pop troll population not doing so hot! and all your thoughts is just one domino falling after another. you piece together the pieces and ultimately just ending up with one undeniable answer. they got eaten. simple as that.

How many queens/kings were at the troll tree? Just peppy? his parents? But that raises the question of wether or not any of the escaped trolls remember a time before the bergens.

and ur first question, putting them together for one last godawfully long ramble :]

How long ago do we reckon trolls were caught/eaten/found by bergens? (relative to the great escape for simplicity)

the fact that world tour makes it a point to say that only peppy ever knew of the other tribes makes me lean more onto the assumption that its been... a while? but also like. no one's ever mentioned viva? no one remembers the princess who was old enough to fight bergens and mention that to poppy??? whos to say these guys arent just repressing everything as they always do????????? [ITS HARD TO ARGUE SPECULATIONS HERE BC they had to make plot for the movies to make sense!!! its why it feels so mean to me to just blame everything on peppy LMAO. even if that is the easiest way to make sense of it. I WANT NUANCE DAMMIT]

so for the sake of it. i like to think that theyve been under the bergens' capture long enough that everyone outside of the royal family forgot about the time that they were even free from the bergens. long enough that the royal family could rewrite the scrapbooks to make it seem like it wasnt their fault. that it never was. whether to spare themselves the blame, selfish deniability, or just. give up the hope that there was a single minuscule possibility to have help from the outside.

i said before that i headcanonned peppy holding resentment for them in the belief that no one could ever bother to just check. and thats part of the reason why he doesnt even want to attempt getting to know them, since it probably felt like no one EVER cared except for themselves.

again. im sorry that i dont have a specific number for you though ToT the most i can say is that: its long enough that they forgot.

POST ANSWER ASK RAMBLEEEE

heres a fic that made me ugly cry about this! i think it gives really good answers to your questions!!!!!!! and though it doesnt completely fit with whats 'canon' (when has anything ever) its such a horrifying and deliciously good outlook on how the bergens affected the pop trolls as a whole! cant recommend it enough!! please leave the author kudos and love especially if this is your type of jam!!!

more than anything. the realization of how hard the pop trolls' lives mustve even been prior to the first movie made me have so much fucking love for them even more?? T_T even if it is unhealthy to an outside perspective, they tried to stay positive, and they got through all those yearly eatings thanks to it, no wonder they try to stay within that mindset even after everything. sometimes i wonder if they felt like its all they had

[soars22]

It’s getting closer; Bad can feel it.

For weeks now, every breath has come a little harsher, sending stabs of pain through his lungs, like he’s choking on shards of glass. His eyesight has slowly gone cloudy as the blue infection has overtaken him but that’s fine. He can deal with that. He can even deal with the electrifying, neverending mess of agony that is his back. Having his organs and nerve endings exposed is not something he’s ever experienced; he hopes he never has to again.

But it’s fine; he can deal with that. What he hates-what’s breaking him-is losing his memory.

There are days where he feels almost normal, where facts and faces don’t slip from his grasp like runaway grains of sand. But then there are days where nothing makes sense, where time and experience are all jumbled together, where he knows something’s missing but can’t quite remember what. Those are the worst days by far. Bad’s glad today isn’t one of those days; he doesn’t think he would ever be able to forgive himself if it was.

It really is a perfect day. He’s sitting beneath the cherry tree by the bench. He had meant to sit on the bench, really, he had, but then he’d gotten there and the effort seemed too much, somehow. So instead he’s here, leaning against the trunk of the tree, looking up at the sky through the branches and slowly swirling leaves.

There’s a gentle touch on his arm. He tries to turn, but it’s too much-it hurts too much to move and he’s so very tired. But it doesn’t matter; he doesn’t need to see to know who’s there.

“…Dapper…I told.. you… to stay.. stay inside…”

Each word is like sandpaper in his throat. The effort leaves him exhausted but he needs to get the message out. He never intended to let his child see him like this. The grip on his shoulder tightens slightly before Dapper moves to crouch in front of him, Pomme by his side.

“You should have known that we weren’t going to leave you. Not like this. I made a promise.”

Bad smiles at Pomme’s sign. “You… did.. I’m… so proud… of you.. both… both-“

He coughs weakly and both of his children move to sit beside him, propping him up between them. Protecting him, always. He feels Dapper trace a message on his arm, something too deep for just a sign:

‘I love you.’

Bad coughs again. It’s getting so much harder to breathe now; it won’t be long. The pain, at least, is finally starting to slip away.

“I… love you.. too, son.. Hey, P..Pomme… I remember… the rest of… the song… now..”

He feels Pomme’s grip on him tighten. He doesn’t have the strength anymore to look at her or Dapper, but that’s ok. He can still feel them and he can still look at the sky. That’s all that matters, really.

“You are my… sunshine… my only sun… shine… you make me… happy… when skies… are grey.. You’ll never… know.. dear… how much I-“

He gives a shuddering cough. It’s so close; it’s here now. But he’ll be damned again if he doesn’t finish this song.

“How.. how much I… I—“

It’s quiet underneath the cherry tree. Three forms-two small, one large even in death-huddle together. The air is peaceful and still. It really is a perfect day.

[giacarem]

it's supposed to be fun, turning seventeen

"Zuko's birthday!" Aang called out. "Zuko, you didn't tell us it was your birthday? We would've celebrated!" "It doesn't matter," Zuko said, his voice commanding, if not a bit squeaky. "I've never really celebrated my birthday, so it's not like I'm missing anything. Please, just pretend that this is a normal day." Hopefully, they would forget all about his birthday. … Hopefully. Or; The Gaang find an old calendar among the mountain of memorabilia that Zuko is burning at the Ember Island holiday house and make a startling discovery. Zuko, on the other hand, begins to believe they are hatching a plot to kill him.

7,323 words of Zuko angst and hurt/comfort that you can read here!

[sonicchaoscontrol]

Alright, it’s close enough to the holiday here that we can go ahead and get started!

Hello! With all due sincerity, how are you? Have you been well?

It’s been a while, hasn’t it. Is this thing still on? Let me see if I can’t clear a few things up as the Moderator That Was, Once, And May Be Again. Read on for details, my friends! It’s long-winded, but I hope it suffices. If you’re new here, don’t worry about any of this, and simply enjoy the cheeky teaser. I’ll see you soon.

—---------

Of course, the obvious:

It wasn’t right of me to disappear. For three years it’s sat quietly as my greatest shame, and I still feel that guilt all the dang time. I was having such fun! This thing was on a roll! So…what happened in 2019? Truth is - I wasn’t ready. I had a lot of growing to do, both as a person and an artist, and I was winging it way more than I ever should have been allowed to get away with. Around the time I left, my living situation took a drastic turn for the worse, and I quickly arrived at every artist’s greatest enemy: Immense burnout. That shit sent me up in FLAMES. I was kindling in no time flat!

…So, like, what the hell man, where have I been in the years since? Twitter, mostly. Various MMOs. Discord, too. Learning and growing and finally getting my affairs in order. Are things okay now? Well, they’re a lot better than they were! Steady onwards. I’m out of that situation and on the mend. But lately? I’ve had this nagging itch in the back of my brain that it might be time to get back to where I feel I really belong. Revamp this shindig and fix it from the ground up, you know? It’s still a story I want to tell, but I feel that the time I’ve spent away has taught me a lot about how storytelling really works.

So what does the road look like from here?

Here’s how it’s gonna go - first, the fixes. I’d be functionally recycling the story in its current state, filling in the decade-old plotholes, and working with proper pacing ahead of time, instead of simply going page by page and seeing what happened (You don’t want to know what the old process looked like!). This time, updates would be sent out on a steadier, more reliable basis, instead of churning ahead at full throttle and reaching Burnout Station again. I don’t have an accurate estimate of how long this process will take or when new pages would be released, but I’d like to build up a little bit of a buffer, so we’ll see! At the time of this posting, several pages are already in the works - make of that what you will! I’ve also got an editor this time, for bonus points.

Secondly, the administrative aspect. Three years or so is a lot of time to lose grip on a website, and I haven’t actually USED this place in a while. So please bear with me while I make any necessary changes and see about adjusting things under the hood. Yes, the original discord was deleted. No, it doesn’t make it right. Yes, I have a new Sonic/SCC server that's waiting for the right time to go public. Communicate with me on that as we go - is that kind of hub still wanted? We’ll see.

This is an endeavor that will take time and patience, more than I feel I deserve after so suddenly ghosting everyone - mental illness and poor circumstance can make for a downright nasty combination, and I think we’re all juggling various struggles a few years into a worldwide pandemic. I ain’t special, I know a lot of us burned out like so many well-meaning meteors. But all that aside… I think I would like to try again. My inaction back then was borne of a terrible situation and no strength to keep the fire burning, but now? Now, I’m here, and ready to make the attempt.

I can’t promise immediate results, but the keyword here is ‘try’. Coming back to this place and seeing that there were still those hanging on, waiting to see if it would ever dig itself out of the snow? Warmed my heart like you would not believe. I don’t remember the state of mind I was in at the time, nor the current status of… a lot of things, actually, but y’know what, that’s okay. Clean slate. Fresh start. Powdered snow and broken ice.

You’re still here! You thought this was something worth waiting for! I will try my best to live up to that kindness, and do things the right way this time. Thank you for waiting for me.

Got ring? I do.

-Ness / RhythmCrown

[supersonic-rocket-ship]

Ted: And since I was a straight fella in middle america working in sports-

Trent: