#the more general note is that I think this tends to happen a lot across DC properties

[the-batacombs]

On a more general note, but because it seems more critical when you're talking about a character like Oliver Queen...I'd really like DC to give him a writer who has a really clear idea of his political sense/beliefs/boundaries. There's this general idea of Oliver Queen passed down from O'Neil which usually gets thrown in there, but there's very rarely a sense of Oliver actually acting on his perceptions and beliefs rather than some commentary being dropped over the top after the story has already been constructed. Especially now, I'd really just love to have a writer who thinks about this kind of thing. You can tell me all this stuff about Oliver, but I can't feel it, you know? It's not ringing true.

Ideally, I'd like the writer to have a political angle, whatever that is. I want the comic to bleed a little at the edges, you know? I want it to mean something. But I'd content for someone who's thought Oliver through.

[millersfinest]

untethered² | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 8.2 k

series: chapter one, chapter two (you’re here!), chapter three

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, r and ellie flirting/teasing each other, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf, the millers, r is a writer, horndog ellie, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is very jealous of cat, hella angst, rich!abby (one of r’s evil exes), emotional cheating (from ellie), repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut, some corny time period song drops.

note: okay, i tried to fit a lot of stuff into this but it was getting too long wink wink. i’ve introduced rich!abby, she’s literally a generational surgeon purr. when i was writing this i was listening to some early 00s music and burn from usher came on… that’s ellie’s anthem ya’ll (for cat) lmaooo. i may not post another chapter before the new year, soo happy early new years to my moots, readers and followers (pookies) <3

After spending an extra hour, or so, with Ellie in the kitchen—laughing under your hands, stuffing bread into your mouths; you set an alarm for 6am. The same time clock that sat on your bedside table from your youth. Surprisingly, it still worked—waking you up with that same traumatic sound it used to for school.

You efficiently got ready; as in, you put on hearty jeans, cowboy boots, and a throw-away sweater because you had an obligation to fill on the farm. Every time you came back home, it was habitual for you to resume the responsibilities you used to have when the farm was your primary residence.

Around 6:45, you met your parents downstairs to begin prepping and planning who was going to go where. There was usually only three of you, but as you hovered over the black coffee on the counter—in your favorite antique mug—the screen door pulled open to reveal a sleepy-looking Ellie Williams-Miller.

She had a thick, black headband pushing her hair back from her forehead, and a low bun. The whites of her eyes were a little irritated and low-hanging, like she was exhausted. “Mornin’, Ellie.” Tommy spoke, rasping slightly. You and Maria parroted him—you standing up straight, instead of leaning over the counter.

Ellie settled across from you, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as a comfort. She rarely ever knew where to put her hands. “Didn’t think you’d jump in so quick.” You commented, wrapping your hands around the warm coffee in your hands.

“The sooner the better.” She shrugged, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Is there any coffee left?”

Before your mother could leap to helping her out, you set down your mug. “‘Course there is. Hazelnut or Vanilla creamer?” You walk over to the pot, not forgetting to pull down a mug from the cabinet. It was offhanded, unintentional—but the ceramic mug you grabbed happened to be hers from the past. An off-white color with her initial on the front in maroon. Ellie used to come over so much, she had her own mug.

She was the first to notice, a blush blossoming on her freckled cheeks. “Hazelnut…”

Pouring the hot coffee a quarter of the way, you added the creamer and dropped a spoon inside to mix it. Ellie wasn’t the biggest fan of coffee, so it was more creamer than coffee. Behind you, your parents began explaining and refreshing the jobs they usually do in the morning. They plan to handle the cows, goats and shipments; while you and Ellie can handle the chickens, horses and garden. “Now, Bug, she’s gonna be taking over your job— so, instruct her well, please.”

“You got it, dude.” You curtly nodded, after making a cheesy Full House joke, sporting a thumbs up. The only person to chortle was Ellie, while her lips were still parted over the side of her mug.

Tommy and Maria put their hands in the middle, slapping on top of each other. “Lets break out—“

“Come on, dad, do we have to?” It was so natural for you to complain at his antics, calling him dad, that you didn’t realize who you were doing it in front of company until much later.

When you were a teenager, every morning your broke out like a team—because, basically, that’s what you were. Splitting to conquer more ground; it took teamwork. “Honey, we always break out.”

Ellie set her cup down, amused. “Don’t be such a negative Nancy, y/n.” She put her hand on top of theirs, raising her thick eyebrows. “Come on, break out.”

Rolling your eyes, you place your hand over her’s. “We’re the Miller’s on three.” You dragged, shaking your head. They all grinned around you like hyenas, and it amusingly pissed you off. One. Two. Three.

“We’re the Miller’s!” They exclaimed, along with yourself. Unable to remove the mirroring grin from your lips.

“All right, team. Let’s get to work.” Tommy asserted with a smile, drinking the rest of his coffee.

The four of you dispersed on the back porch. You scribbling on notebook paper to keep track of your duties. Ellie leaned her back against the railing, crossing her arms, with her eyes trained on your focused expression. “Okay… We’re starting off with the chicken’s— do you remember how?” You glance up, raising an eyebrow.

“Ehm,” She clears her throat, pushing off the railing. “Uhm, yeah, totally. We get the food, right? The pellets?”

“Yeah, and…” You put a hand on your hip, a teasing smirk on your lips.

She chews on her lip, averting her eyes. “Scoop it into troughs?” Ellie questioned, slowly, knowing she was incorrect. The young woman just wanted you to correct her.

“I’m afraid you’ve gotten yourself a bit mixed up, Els.” The nickname slipped from your lips sweetly, but unpredicted. You were both shocked and did a bad job of hiding it. Your lips opening and closing like a gaping fish; Ellie licking her lips, still rocking on her feet. But to be fair, you were friends before everything—it shouldn’t have been weird. “Sorry…”

“Why are you sorry? It’s my name…” Ellie shrugged.

“Let’s just get to the chicken coop.” You chuckle, hiding the nervousness by trotting off the porch. Her name was Ellie, not Els—people who were close to her called her that, and they weren’t close anymore. It was just an example of muscle memory, really.

Ellie tapped her hand against the wooden post, following in your footsteps. “Feels good to be back…” She mutters, walking with her hands behind her back.

“You’re always welcome here.” You respond, approaching the shed that held the chickens food and such. Your fingers worked at the metal latch, pushing open the door. It creaking loudly from the rusted hinges. “Help me fill the buckets?”

She nodded with tight lips, crouching down where you were in front of a large bag filled with their food. You dug for the scoop, frowning at the smell. Ellie had grabbed a bright orange bucket, placing it beside you. Her eyes watching you, intently. Taking in all of your movements while scooping the pellets into the bucket.

Feeling her eyes on you, it was easy to start conversation—transition from that pier of tension. “You looked pretty tired… I hope that wasn’t my fault.”

Ellie hummed, switching an empty bucket with the one you just filled, putting it to the side. “Oh, no, of course not. I had an idea for a sketch… So, stayed up and worked on that.”

You grinned, peering at her. “Hey, the farm’s already workin’, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She chortled, averting her eyes.

Now, that was a clean cut lie. Ellie was a very smart girl—quick on her feet; she always has been. As she stood in that woody kitchen, munching on microwaved biscuits and giggling with her childhood ex-girlfriend… She had realized a fundamental truth. Or, more so, she was considering it. Perhaps, it wasn’t the farm she needed to sponsor her creativity.

It was you. In all of your self-made, manufactured glory. All it took was a glance for her to blossom with ideas—you were her muse.

That’s why she was up all night. She had propped herself on a stool, while her girlfriend slept, and began sketching where the both of you stood—by the shed. Ellie had drawn, scribbled, and shaded until the charcoal pencil fell from her fingers. Forcing her to rest, and by that time it was four in the morning.

Not without covering her work with a sheet, though. Your features were etched onto the canvas, that was too precious and vulnerable. Intimate. Telling.

Pulling her from her obsessive thoughts, you spoke. “Ellie, the bucket.” You bunched your eyebrows, with a tone insinuating that you’ve asked her more than once.

“Shit, my bad.” She stood up, picking one of them up by the metal handle. When she lifted it, she realized that she should consider weight lifting as a hobby—it was heavy. But, you held it in your hands as if it weighed no more than ten pounds. Ellie wasn’t right; the traits of a country girl never left you.

You began to walk out of the shed, toward the chicken coop, which was only a few steps away. “You know, I can let you off the hook if you wanna go take a nap, or something. We have, like, five more days for me to show you the ropes.”

“Really, it’s fine. You know I get a little spacey sometimes.”

“Yeah, when there’s a lot on your mind.” You pointed out, arriving at the coop. Opening the gate, you walk to another, slightly shorter gate to release the chickens. “Your breakfast has arrived!”

You set the bucket on the ground, Ellie doing the same, and you began to scoop out the pellets onto the dirt. They clucked and hopped around, pecking at the small pieces of food littered around. “Is there a lot on your mind?”

She hesitated to answer, dumping the rest of the pellets onto the ground. “Little bit…”

“Well, let this be a release from whatever you’re thinkin’ about. Not a distraction, but a release— it’ll keep you focused.”

Instead of pressing for what was on her mind, you responded with more thoughtful words. The fact that the both of you allowed your closeness to disintegrate or untether; you didn’t have much of a place to inquire. Asking too many questions could lead to fighting—if she were anything how she used to be. And you didn’t want to pry, even though a part of you assumed her exhaustion had something to do with Cat.

Ellie hummed once more, with her hands on her hips, watching you scratch their little heads. “Horses are next, right?” She questioned, blinking at you as if she were in a daze.

You chortle. “Yep. Excited to see Shimmer and Tokyo, huh?” A grin spread across your lips as you approached the gate. You paused, gasping, before you turned back to the auburn-haired woman. “Fuck, I have a surprise for you— almost forgot!” Rushing to grab her hand, you pull her out of the chicken coop. Keeping a firm grip on her palm; Ellie’s lightly holding yours as you pulled her toward the horse barn, glancing at her hand being embraced. It was a little ways so, despite the cool, morning air, sweat beaded between your palms.

But, since she was so enamored by your excited spirit, she held on.

When you arrived, that’s when you released her hand, unlocking the latch. Before your opened the door, you turned toward her faux lax expression. “Shimmer is, now, a mother…” You began, pushing open the door. Ellie gasped, grinning wide like a child before an arcade. “To a beautiful foal Tommy named Sarah.” You introduced coming up on their division.

“Holy shit,” She cursed, still grinning ear to ear. Her white teeth sparkling against the rays of the morning sun that peaked through the wooden panels in the barn. Shimmer peaked her head over the gate once she saw Ellie—like she never forgot about her. Nobody had. “Congrats, Shimmer.” She ran her hand along her strong jaw; the horse nuzzling into her touch.

Her olive eyes peered down, noticing the much smaller foal. Her coat was the same color as her mothers, but her hair had a blonder touch. “Can I?” She looked over at you.

“You don’t have to ask— she’s your horse, too.” You waved your hand. “I’ll go ahead and grab their food.” Leaving them alone, you hear Ellie marveling at Sarah. Causing a chuckle to leave your lips. You pet the other horses—Tokyo, Hamlet, and Ophelia—on the way to the other end of the barn.

Packing the buckets with differing pellets and chaffs, you filled their troughs and opened up their gates. Saving Shimmer and Sarah for last.

You walked over, leaning against the open gate. Sarah had nestled between Ellie’s crossed legs as she sat in the hay. Leaning into her gentle caresses. “I’m assuming she’s named after Joel’s daughter?” She asked, looking up at you from the ground.

“You assumed right.” You nodded, pressing your lips into a line.

“Does Joel know?”

“Not yet. It was a surprise for both of you.” You told, taking the liberty to join her on the ground. “I’m sure Tommy’ll say somethin’ by the end of the day.” Your fingers nestle through her course blonde hair. She was only about a week old, and the softness of her hair was already leaving. A sigh falls from your lips, glancing up at your old friend. Her eyes were already trained on your features, intently. Like she was trying to remember the intricacies of your face. “You think he’ll like it? Naming Shimmer’s baby after her?”

Ellie blinked, running her tongue over hr lips. “Uh, yeah— I think he’ll love it.” She chuckled, boyishly. The side of her lips curling up, as her eyes cast back toward the happy foal. “He’d probably want pictures of her everyday…”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking the pictures…”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t.” She affirmed. “If I didn’t, he’d blow up my cell.”

You laughed, backing up against the wall, leaning your head back as you peered at her. “He would wouldn’t he?”

A pair of footsteps caught your attention, and for a moment you thought it was your parents. You prepared to get up, but a new face came around the corner. Her brown eyes were sleepy, and she still was dressed in her pajamas. Hay clinging to the hem of her plaid pajama pants. “I was told that I’d find you here…” She spoke, mostly to the auburn-haired woman beside you.

“Mornin’,” You smiled, awkwardly. Standing up from where you sat. Cat smiled at you, but her eyes quickly moved back to Ellie.

“Ellie, can we talk?” She softly asked, fiddling with her fingers.

From the ground, she sighed, unmoving. “I’m kind of busy… Can it wait?” Ellie lifted her eyebrows, squinting at her girlfriend because of the sun’s rays. Her olive eyes practically glowing as the sun reflected through them.

“No. It can’t wait.”

“I can step out…” You offered, placing a hand on Shimmer. “She’s missing out on some grazing time, anyway.”

“No, it’s fine.” “Thanks,” Both Ellie and Cat spoke, causing you to pause in your steps. You bunched your eyebrows at Ellie, making an expression that read: talk to her! Ignoring the pleas of her beautiful features, you pulled Shimmer from her space. Leaving the two to talk.

It was always about saving face for you—you didn’t want to give the wrong impression to Cat. It was obvious that she knew about your past; you hoped that she did. Maybe, in a possessive way—in a way of I know her more than you. Or, in a way of context. That was something you were still trying to figure out.

Either way, your feelings for Ellie was private; something you were battling, as if it were a disease. Because it was wrong to hold onto a fragment of a memory—loving someone who was taken. It was childish. Letting them talk was putting a leash on yourself. There was nothing like some good ol’ fashioned self control.

While you contemplated, watching the horses meander around, getting their fresh air—conversation happened in the barn. Around the innocent, nuzzling foal, Sarah. “I just wanted to let you know… That I’m not mad at you.” Cat spoke, genuinely, leaning against the wooden gate. Her voice was firm and far from soft. “You know how I can get easily overwhelmed—“

“Cat, overwhelmed? You got pissed with me because I was asking her questions. That’s it.” Ellie retorted, narrowing her eyes. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her in fucking years. Do you expect me not to be interested in what she’s doing?”

“Okay, Ellie. My fucking bad!” She slapped her hands against her legs. “My bad for considering your history with each other— I’m being a jealous bitch. There. I said it for you.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “Can we just stop acting weird? I don’t wanna fight. Not here.”

Ellie allowed Sarah to stand, walking from her space to where her mother was. Around the corner, entertaining you, although your peeving ear was open to their conversation. Even though, you couldn’t hear much.

She stood up, dusting herself off. “I’d never call you a jealous bitch…” Ellie muttered, approaching her, settling her hands on her jaw. “You have nothing to worry about, kitty Cat.” She spoke like a wish, leaning into the place a chaste kiss on her lips. Cat had shut her eyes, not noticing the glance Ellie made out the open barn doors at you—the back of you. Just before her lips met hers. She tried to keep Ellie, moving her lips against hers, but she pulled away, swiftly. “I have to get back to work, all right. No hard feelings?”

She sighed, pouting. “None at all… See you later?” Cat wondered, letting her hands drift down to her belted hips.

“See you later.” She smiled, pulling away from her.

Cat left the barn, waving at you on her way out. “See you, y/n!” She waved, wiggling her fingers. Her voice was sweet, but for some reason you didn’t like how smooth your name came from her mouth. But, regardless, you smiled back.

Ellie emerged from the barn with her hands in her pockets. She stopped where you were, watching the horses—mainly Sarah. “How’d it go?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You remember Dina and Jesse, right?” She changed the subject.

You scrunched your eyebrows at the random question, peering over at her. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“They’re going to a bar later… The Tipsy Bison, If you wanna—“

“Oh, I don’t know.” You interrupt, shaking your head. Chewing on your bottom lip, keeping your eyes trained on the trotting horses. The moment the relationship between you and Ellie was severed; that severed whatever bond you had with them. Jesse tried to stay in contact passively—when MySpace came out, he friended you. However, Dina was nowhere to be found. She must’ve hated your guts, right?

“What? You don’t drink either?” She chuckled, covering her nervousness.

Pressing your lips together, you narrowed your eyes at her. “It’s been too long…” You shook your head. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” She drawled, like a youthful plea.

“This is peer pressuring. Did we not learn about this is school?” Your feet carried you away from the horses, toward the garden. She followed after you with a sickening grin.

You pulled out your checklist, checking off the box by chickens and horses—clicking your pen with a smirk on your face. “Peer pressure… Shmeer Shressher.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Ellie, I don’t know. I might have something to write for my editor— let me think about it.” You made up an excuse on the spot, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if you opened up your email to see several messages from Isa Raymond.

“Don’t tell me you’re a workaholic, too?”

“I’m not.”

“Kind of seems like it.” Ellie shrugged.

You hit her arm with the back of your hand. “Whatever, Ellie. Think what you want.” The both of you arrive at the greenhouse. It smells of fresh soil and misty air—fairly comforting. When you were younger, it was the second best part of the farm for you. The horse barn being the first, of course. “This part is the simplest; just make sure all the veggies and plants are watered accordingly.”

You pick up a gallon half-full tin watering can, handing it to her. She took it from you with both hands, fingers grazing, lightly. “Oh, shit— I wasn’t paying attention with the horses. What do you feed ‘em?” Ellis began to stroll down the aisles, watering the soil.

“No worries, it seemed important.” You shrugged, mentioning the conversation between her and Cat. “I’ll just show you on the way back. It’s pretty simple— woah, not too much!” You place a hand on her wrist. She was pouring too much water into one of the potted plants. Her eyes locked onto yours, opened wide. “Sorry, I should’ve said this before… The potted plants need less water than the veggies.” She kept looking at you, the ends of her lips curling. “Carry on,” You urged, walking past her—in front of her, holding your own hands in front of you.

She couldn’t help but watch you go—hell, that’s all she’s been doing since she saw you. Watching. There was nothing wrong with that. Even if her eyes drifted to the way your hips were hugged in the jeans your wore. The sliver of skin that exposed when you bent down, or crouched, or even swayed your hips.

“So…” Ellie began, heading to your word and carefully watering. “Are you seeing anyone in Manhattan?” She asked, shamelessly with a perked eyebrow.

You pivoted, leaning your back against one of the aisles of vegetation. “Off and on…” Shrugging, you surprised yourself with how quickly you responded. “Dating in New York is like setting yourself on fire… And I don’t like getting burned.” You pursed your lips, flickering your eyes from her and the tomato’s. “Why? Is there someone you’d wanna set me up with—? I could use the help.” You joke, beginning to fiddle with the waxy leaves.

She snickered, approaching you with the tin watering can. Pouring nutrient liquid onto the carrot sprouts. “Dina, maybe?”

“Awe, you’re so funny.” You clap your hands together, sarcastically, leaning your chin on your hand.

“If you come out tonight, you can see just how funny I am.” She set the can down.

“I don’t have to go to a bar to see how funny you are. I’m laughing right now, aren’t I?” You mock a fake laugh, pointing at your mouth. Ha Ha. Ha Ha.

Wrapping your hands around the handle of the watering can, you pulled it from her to take over her job. “Just come, y/n! Wouldn’t it be nice to get the gang back together?”

A scoff fell from your lips. “It’s been a while since the gang was together, Ellie.” Occupying your attention with plants you watering. You fought to fight the frown attempting to grow on your lips, pressing them together and turning your body enough for her not to notice.

Ellie dragged her feet, following you. “It’s been eight years…”

Sighing, you slightly slam the can down, not enough to make a fuss but enough to signal your irritation. “Have you forgotten about what happened eight years ago?” You questioned, sternly.

She paused, inhaling, sharply. Ellie scratched her jaw, nodding her head. “Nope.” While she was taken aback by your sudden sternness; there was something that excited her about that pinched look on your face. The auburn-haired young woman has grown a lot since her youth.

“Okay, then.” You pouted. “Let’s just wrap this up, so we can reconvene with my parents— make sure all this stuff is done.”

And that’s exactly what the both of you did. The jokes and silly conversation ceased, and you basically finished in awkward silence. On the way back to the house, you showed her which foods to give to which horse, clinically. That playful look on your face was replaced with the one that exposed your unnerved feeling—from the horrifying mention of what happened eight years ago.

At the front porch, the pair of you separated. She waved a fiddly hand, peering over her shoulder as she walked back to the guesthouse. With a pair of shoulders that were slumped lower than they were from the morning.

Ellie didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—she should’ve never pushed you to hang out with her later. Perhaps, she got too comfortable too fast; but that’s just the type of person you were. Easily acclimatizing. It didn’t matter how much space could be between you and another person—you always found a way with making them feel at home. However, when you pull back, it’s a cold feeling. She just wanted to look at you some more, talk to you some more; be around you some more. Ellie couldn’t deny how refreshing it was.

You met with your parents assuring them that everything was done. They asked about Ellie, but you said she took all the information fine. She’ll probably just need a few days to really lock it in—but, you couldn���t stay long to chat. It was about nine in the morning, and you had to check your email and cell for messages.

First, you showered to get the smell of animal off of you. As much as you loved them, the stench was awful and you’d rather die than let it get stuck to the comforter of your bed. Then, you hopped onto your reading nook, and began going through your emails.

Scroll, scroll, Isa Raymond. Scroll, scroll, Frank St. James… Frank St. James—that was your editor! “Fuck,” You swore under your breath, clicking the bolded words, your heart grew nervous. What if he didn’t like it? You always took criticism much harder when writing the essay’s for your book because everything comes from your experience—your spirit.

Your eyes panned over the words, seeing nothing but: phenomenal, and powerful, and effective, and most importantly, this will be the perfect addition to your bigger work. “Fuck, yeah!” You shouted, pumping your fist in the air.

A head peaked through your door, dark brown hair crowded with grays, and aged brown eyes. “Are we celebrating somethin’?”

Looking up, you smile at Joel, pushing your laptop to the side. “Yeah, actually. One of my chapters got approved by my editor.” You sighed, happily.

“Looks like that book really is comin’ along…” Joel hummed, sporting a proud look on his face. “Good thing Ellie and I made some breakfast— hot and ready! Do your parents have any champagne, so we can celebrate with some mimosa’s?”

Standing to your feet, you waved a hand. “It’s not that serious, Joel.” You chuckle, letting your hands rest on your hips.

“You think mimosa’s are serious? Whew, you need to come back home more often.” He joked, leaning on the threshold of your door.

Rolling your eyes, playfully, a chuckle leaves your throat. He was always so supportive. For a moment you though you lost the opportunity to see that side of him a long time ago. “There might be some in the fridge… And some cranberry juice.” He nodded, pumping his fist—him and Ellie were so much alike. “Give me, like, five minutes and I’ll be down. I have to respond to some messages.”

“Of course, workin’ girl. But don’t let your mimosa get warm… Or your food get cold— we worked hard on it.”

“I won’t.” You smiled, watching him leave your door. Quickly, you pulled out your cell, checking your messages. Some complaining messages from Sierra, Isa Raymond complimenting you—which she didn’t do often—and, a message from a past love interest, Abby Anderson.

Abs: I’m gonna be in your hometown for a few days, seeing some friends. We’re going to a bar later, you should come!

You hesitate to respond, but you do.

You: Oh, nice! Which bar?

There weren’t many bars where you came from, it was fairly small. But, you were getting an inkling that it was the same bar Ellie had invited you to—the Tipsy Bison.

Abs: Tipsy Bison, I believe.

You: I’m totally in. Could definitely use a drink right now.

Abs: Want me to come by and pick you up? I drove the Jaguar ;)

You: As tempting as that sounds, I already have a ride. See you then, Abby.

You slapped your phone shut to meander downstairs to the breakfast that awaited you. On a hot plate, made by Joel and Ellie themselves—which, typically, was delicious. They were both wonderful cooks.

Stepping down the stairs, you heard a sound come from your silver cell. You flipped it open with a sigh, seeing Abs highlighted by a green line.

Abs: Oh, damn… Abby. We’re not on nickname basis anymore?

You pursed your lips, shaking your head as you reached the bottom step.

You: Be normal about this, because I could’ve said no.

Shutting your phone, you slid them into the pocket of your pajama shorts. To purposefully ignore the rest of her texts until later. Everyone was still building their plates, walking to the dining table—including Cat, dressed in jeans and band t-shirt. Muse. “Joel, where’s the mimosa’s?” You arrived in the kitchen; Tommy hand you a ceramic plate was already plated with food.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“Bug, the champagne in there has lost its bubbles— there’s no point.” He then grinned. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna congratulate you for the chapter approval!” Your father clapped his hands, causing the others to join in—Maria, Joel, Cat, and Ellie.

You kiss his cheek. “Thanks, dad.” A blush frosts over your cheeks—face heating up like a furnace. “I hope we can get some by tomorrow. Thanksgiving is in two days.”

“I’m actually running downtown for a work thing…” Cat began, setting her plate at the dining table, preparing to sit. “I could grab some on the way back.”

“That’ll be perfect, Cat!” Maria exclaimed, smiling, brightly.

Why the fuck was she so nice? You almost wanted to mock your mother—even though they all just celebrated you a moment ago. Of course she’d offer to get the champagne. “Thanks, Cat.” You gave a toothless smile. A smile that plastered and could easily be noticed as fake by those around you. When you heard a snicker come from Ellie’s mouth, you knew that she noticed.

You shot her a glare, but that only made her lips spread into a wider smile. Toothy. Trying. As she settled into her chair, fork in hand.

Conversation over breakfast was light, and lovely. Slight jokes were made about Ellie’s farming skills, but nothing too much. You interacted with each other by mainly through looks and offhanded comments—enough for your mom to take notice. Nudging you under the table with her leg, but you gave her no mind.

After breakfast, you offered to clean up. And, of course, so did Ellie. You argued for a bit on who was going to wash the dishes, and who was going to dry them—settling on you washing and her drying. Cat took a taxi to wherever she needed to go, kissing the auburn-haired woman on the way out. Maria, Tommy and Joel settling in the living room, which was separated from the kitchen by a wall, catching up on sports. Your mother was oddly into that kind of stuff. Leaving you and Ellie all to yourselves, once more.

“Thanks, Cat. You’re so full of it.”

You handed her a wet, clean dish, rolling your eyes. “You have no idea what I’m full of.” A scoff falls from your lips, slightly curling at the ends. It’s not like you were upset, you were amused—you found her amusing. There was time between the scuffle from earlier and now; plus, you had a bit of a distraction for later.

You lathered the plate, running it under the hot water to rinse it off. “Your poker face is the absolute worst. Some things just never change— be okay with that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Some things never change. You’re still so fucking annoying.”

“And, I remember you also saying… Corny?”

You drop your hands in the sink, running your tongue over your bottom lip. Frankly, you missed this so bad. Meeting her eyes was like the tide rising on a beach—it always happened in way that was intertwining and overcoming. This was how Ellie Williams flirted; she was incredibly insufferable! Her voice dropped an octave, becoming a bit raspier than it already was. You were familiar because, well, she used to be yours. And, like she said, some things never change.

The only way you could respond was by peering at her. Inspecting her. Handing over the wet dish without sparing a glance at the ceramic plate. You watched as she primed her lips to speak. “All jokes aside…” She began, wiping down the plate with a turquoise towel. “I wanna apologize for the pressure earlier— coming out with me.” Finishing up, she set the dishes on the rack, leaning her lower back against the counter. Her arms crossed over her chest, the tattoo on her forearm coming into view—something you didn’t fully notice before. “I totally get the hesitation. Dina can be a… Handful at times.”

“About that…” You dried your hands, wiping the water off the counter. “I’ve actually decided to go. I could use some hometown socializing— and Jesse’s still pretty sweet.”

Her earthy eyes sized you up, squinting her eyes. “Oh, is that who you want me to set you up with?”

“Seriously, Ellie, keep your day job.” You rolled your eyes, fixing everything around the kitchen so it could look clean. “We kind of keep in touch on MySpace.”

She gasped, deepening her eyebrows. “MySpace! I don’t even have you on MySpace—! I’m friends with Jesse, I would’ve seen this.”

“Well, my username isn’t quite my name… It’s BugsWritersRoom, and my icon is a picture of a latte— I can understand the confusion.” You shrug, nonchalantly.

Ellie subtly clenched her jaw at the idea of Jesse keeping something like this from her. It was fucked up to keep her from BugsWritersRoom—Ellie needed to be in on that. Whether she was going to friend you or not. “I’m about to start writing a bit… What’s you username, so I can stalk ‘ya?” The tone of your voice insinuated that it was a joke, but you weren’t joking at all. However, it wasn’t that you couldn’t find her before; you just didn’t want to. Twenty-four hours ago you were keen on keeping your distance—that also meant watching her online.

But, since the rekindling of this stomped out fire, you might as well catch up. And she was planning to do the same.

“StarlighterWilliams…” She muttered, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. You couldn’t help but wonder how she could shape shift from a semi-confident joker, to a bashful blusher within a few minutes—Ellie was one of a kind, certainly.

You hummed, lips curling at the sides. “Still a Savage Starlight fan, huh?”

“Yup.”

“At least all those comics and merch I bought for you didn’t go to waste.” You glance at the tall grandfather clock against the wall, huffing. Before you went out tonight, you wanted to get some words out of your head—there was plenty of time, as it was only nearing one in the afternoon. But you wanted some alone time, too.

She wanted to respond with how she’d never toss the items you bought for her—something cheesy like that—but, you spoke before her. “I guess the next time I’ll see you, I won’t be in old-as-shit pajamas. What are you thinkin’—? 9:30?”

“Yeah, 9:30s fine…” Her eyes ran over your frame. The tight strappy top that clung to your adult figure, and the loose satin shorts that hung low on your hips. A water stain had grown on the middle of your stomach from washing the dishes, and because the shirt was white your skin peeked through. If only it was a little higher—

“Cool. See you later.” You walked around the island, toward your parents and Joel. “If you guys need anything, I’ll be upstairs working. Just call me.” Ellie watched as you bent down to kiss their temples, including Joel from an old habit. She watched you laugh if off, but your pace quickened toward the stairs. Your eyes flickered to hers, a causal finger pointing in her direction. “That goes for you, too.” You winked.

It was like everything was in slow motion as she watched you. Especially, that fucking wink! Yeah, Ellie understood that wink was probably for weed—it couldn’t have been anything else. “I’m getting myself into some deep trouble.” She spoke under her breath, hanging her head low.

“Hey, guys!” She spoke to the three Miller’s on the couch, stalking toward the front. “I’ll be at the guesthouse.” She waved a few fingers, with her mind occupied completely elsewhere. In the gutter, as many called it.

Joel turned around, leaning his arm against the back of the couch. “You don’t wanna see the bets for the thanksgiving game?”

Ellie didn’t even pause at the door, she responded while walking through. “Absolutely the fuck not. You kids have fun, though!”

She basically ran to the guesthouse, leaning her back against the door once she was inside. In short, she was horny. Oh, so horny—Ellie was without a muse in many different parts of her life currently. And, don’t get her wrong; her girlfriend was smoking hot, but she wasn’t you! She couldn’t be happier that Cat was out of the house. So, she could lay her back against the bed they shared, with her pants off and her hand between her legs. Mind trailing with images of you.

Meanwhile, you sat crisscrossed on your made-up bed, searching for Ellie. StarlightWilliams, she said. You clicked and scrolled until you saw her user icon. It was a picture of her playing guitar. Her short side-bangs covered her face, arms draped over the guitar she’s had for years. At least, it looked like that one that you were familiar with. The one you carved your initials into the back when you were sixteen. Somebody had taken the picture, and you hoped to God it wasn’t Cat. That was your first thought.

You were beginning to make peace with the fact that you were an asshole. Your parents raised an asshole who’s jealousy raged in a passive manner.

With hesitation, you clicked the her name. Her account popped up and was coded to absolute hell. Did she do all of this herself? The side panels had a bunch of Savage Starlight png’s floating around. And, there was a silly picture in her bio of Kenny from South Park—of course, she liked South Park.

Her mood was recently updated: Conflicted.

Her bio was very concise: i’m ellie :3. Which is then preceded by a couple music videos: Hella Good by No Doubt and Somewhere Only We Know by Keane.

You found yourself smiling as you scrolled down her profile, causing you to click the friend button without a second thought. Skipping over the photos of her and Cat, which wasn’t that hard to do—considering there wasn’t many. There were photos of Ellie cuddled between Jesse and Dina, looking happier than ever. Some mirror photos taken with a camera in her bathroom. Her hair mussed and choppily cut, but nonetheless, she looked good. Small nerdy shirts and low-hanging jeans, accessorized with studded belts and carabiners.

Hot.

Breaking you from what felt like a spell, your roommate began ringing your cell. She caused you to shut your laptop, and roll all over your bed talking to her. You paced around your room, playing with little knickknacks, glancing out your window to see the view of the guesthouse.

Sierra demanded to know the details about being around your teenagehood ex-girlfriend, and you told her enough. Not the intrusive thoughts about being a homewrecker, but how easily they got along. How the past had only come up once, but not in the way you thought it would. You bickered and joked and teased like nothing happened.

Now, your roommate back in Manhattan, laughed at that. She claimed that she had psychic tendencies, saying: you guys are gonna fuck nasty! You refused, feigning sounds of disgust. That wasn’t the case—that could never be the case. To change the subject, you mentioned Abby being in town, and she grimaced on the other line.

It was girl talk like no other.

After the call, you decided to quit daydreaming over Ellie’s MySpace account and actually start writing.

The next chapter you were working on was following moments after the breakup—the sorry attempts at moving on, college, moving from home.

You spent hours outlining and rough drafting, cursing at yourself because nothing was coming out right. Sooner or later, eight o’clock came around—meaning it was time for you to get ready.

Sifting through your luggage, you threw clothes over your shoulder trying to piece together an outfit. You wanted to look good, but you didn’t want to appear like you were trying too hard. Abby was gonna be there, so you couldn’t slack. And, Ellie hasn’t seen you in anything other than comfortable clothes since you reconnected.

Jeans were your safety, and a black jean vest you were going to put over a white v-neck—not forgetting the leather jacket to cover your arms and a pair of boot heels to give you some height.

You were ready by 9:15, adding perfume to the pressure points on your body. Dressing your lips in a sparkling lipgloss that complimented your skin. With a baggy purse on your shoulder, you clicked your finger on the buttons in your phone, descending the staircase.

Abs: Always so feisty, babe. See you later.

Seeing her message from earlier, you puff a frustrated breath from your lips. Babe. God, that woman needed to pipe it down—it’s like she knew you were gonna give it up, or something. That was actually something you were still unsure about.

When you appeared in the living room, your heels alerted your family to your presence. Ellie leaned against the couch, coolly, swinging her keys around her finger. She wore low-hanging jeans, a plain top with a striped long-sleeve under it with a thick jacket layered on top—probably Joel’s. “You ready to go?” You raised your eyebrows, chewing on your bottom lip—nerves wracking through you.

Either because of Ellie’s soft eyes on you, or the anticipation of seeing Abby. It was hard to tell.

“Uh, y-yeah… Yeah, let’s go.” She stammered, standing to her feet.

Maria sipped on a glass of wine, eyeing your clothes. “You look cute, Bug— for any reason in particular?” She raised a blonde eyebrow.

“Mom, I’m going to a bar… Why wouldn’t I look cute?”

“She’s a single woman in her twenties, Maria—“

“Let’s not.” You wave your hand, cutting Tommy off. “Ellie,” You spoke, subtly pleading.

She nodded, catching the keys in her hand. “All right, we’re going.” Ellie opened the door for you, allowing you to push toward the screen door—the one you held for her.

“Be safe!”

“Of course!” The both of you responded, glancing at each other with semi-stern eyes.

Heels clicking on the porch, you walk down the steps into the gravel. “Where’s Cat? Is she not going out with us?”

Ellie unlocked her truck, clicking the button on the remote in her hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know…”She snickered, peering at you, unable to hide the glimmer in eyes from taking in your appearance. “Her work thing took longer than she thought. She didn’t feel like comin’ out.”

Yes!

“Ah,” You responded instead of jumping up and down, cheering. Getting into the car was a lift, hopping into the passenger seat.

Her copper truck had aged, but had that same old feel to it. Feeling the stitched seats, shamelessly, brought you back to when you were younger—sitting in her truck those first few times. It was kind of claustrophobic and intimidating being this tightly bound to Ellie.

She was less tense, shutting the door behind her. Ellie put the keys in the ignition, starting the car and turning on the radio. Blink-182, I Miss You, played low—the silence between the two of you speaking up. She scoffed under her breath, switching the radio to another station. “Too slow,” The auburn-haired woman muttered.

“I liked that song, though…” You look at her from the corner of your eye.

Hesitantly, she glanced at you, reached her hand back to the number to switch the station back to the alternative one playing Blink-182. Ellie pressed her lips into a line, putting the truck into drive.

The trip was no longer than ten minutes to the Tipsy Bison. A trip filled with radio music and glances back and forth. To occupy yourself, you played Tetris on your cell until you felt the truck slowing down in the parking lot. When she shut the car off, that’s when your nerves really picked up.

“They should already be inside.” Ellie pointed out. She inspected you the passenger seat, rigid shoulders and a clenching jaw. “You look good— great, even. It might be a little awkward, but—“

“How about this…” You run your tongue over your bottom lip, tasting the strawberry flavored gloss on your lips. “You go on ahead inside— I’ll meet you.” Pulling the handle, you hop out the truck. Your fingers rustle through your purse for the yellow pack of American Spirits and your lighter.

Ellie bunched her thick eyebrows, following you out the car. Locking the doors behind her. “What?”

“I can’t smoke inside… So, go ahead.” You popped out a cigarette, placing it between your lips.

“You sure? I feel like it’ll be easier if we walk in together.” She furrowed her eyebrows, seeing the uncomfortableness written all over your face.

“I’m sure, Ellie. Just go.” You avert your eyes, lighting the tip of the nicotine stick. Waiting for that first inhale to calm your nerves.

She stuffed her hand into her pockets, nodding her head. “I will see you inside, right?” Ellie questioned, fearing that you’d run off. Your only response was a released of smoke from your lips, and a pair of narrowed eyes. “Fuck,” She cursed. “Fine. See you inside.”

Ellie disappeared into the bar. You kicked a leg up against the wall, tapping the ash from your cigarette. Who knew what the feelings of one person could do. In your head, you played through every possible outcome of the situation—seeing Dina again. She could either be really sweet, like she used to be, or still be that grudging person that you familiarized yourself after that day.

The high beams of a shiny, black Jaguar came into your sights—blinding you. You hold up your hand, covering your eyes with arched lips. They were so bright, you didn’t realize who they belonged to until she got out. The blonde wore all black in the sleekest way possible—letting everyone know in this town that she was better than them. That was just the aura she had.

Her long blonde hair was pushed behind her ears and shifted against her black leather jacket. The high beams blinked off, as she approached you, pushing up a a pair of black sunglasses over her head.

“It’s dark out. How do you even drive with those things on?” You raise a skeptical eye, taking a drag from the cigarette between your index and middle finger.

“A hi or hello would be a preferred greeting.” Abby teased, lips spreading into a movie-star smile.

Pressing your lips into a line, ashing the rest of the cigarette out on the wall. “Hi, Abby.” You couldn’t have rolled your eyes harder, really. Her strong arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into her chest. It was firm, but most importantly, warm and comforting. Your arms stretched around her back, nuzzling more into her embrace.

“I hope the cigarette’s the only reason why you’re standing out in the cold.” She pulled back just enough, to keep your bodies pressed together and to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, pretty much.” You purse your lips.

Abby’s hand massaged your tensed shoulders. “Then, let’s get inside. Let me get you a drink to warm you up.”

Ellie already had a drink in hand, and a water for you, unsure of what you wanted. Jesse and Dina had visited her many times in New York—this wasn’t a rekindling. It was just a couple of friends meeting for some beers and a few laughs. Her olive eyes kept glancing at the door waiting for you to come through in all of your glory. And, you were being timed. If you didn’t push through those doors within the next ten minutes, she was going to come out and drag you inside.

As she were about to tell them that she was going to get you, threatening Dina to be nice, you walked in. But you weren’t alone. A tall, muscular blonde had her arm around your shoulders, pulling your tight to her side. And, fucking hell, she looked so much cooler than Ellie did.

She watched as her blue eyes danced around the bar, looking for someone. They widened, and a smile spread on her lips. Hand raising to the ceiling to wave at her friends occupying a booth behind Ellie, Jessie, Dina. “Who the fuck is that?” She spoke, arching her lip in disgust—which wasn’t entirely purposely.

You noticed Ellie, standing from the table she sat at. Waving your fingers, you gave a small smile. Until your eyes landed on an obsidian-haired young woman, with a resting bitch face worse than your own. Dina was leaned back in her chair with her arms crossed. You allowed Abby to guide you to the bar, ordering your usual—a double vodka cranberry.

Something about this night was going to be very, very long. Good thing Cat didn’t come out.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt

[pluviatrix]

helloooo do you have any tips for writing a character with a southern accent? i don't really have a specific area in mind but i Am asking because i'm writing the hero of twilight lol. is there any general slang or word variations i should use in his dialogue?

YES !!!!!!!!!

(prepare for yapping)

i have been WAITING for this one. sat up in my chair and rubbed my hands together like a fly. so often i have read things where people have clearly never been in two feet of a cow or a fried oreo and i will do everthing in my power to avoid that. letsgo

FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS: what kind of southern accent are we considering here?

southern accents and dialects are incredibly diverse along geographic, ethnic, and socioeconomic lines. but, in my anecdotal experience, there are two accent 'types:' a drawl, and a twang. i don't personally hear a drawl a lot where i'm from so i can't totally advise on this one.

a twang is, well, twangy. it's quicker and sharper. IMHO my accent (which is not strictly southern but very very related to appalachian accents) falls in here, and since I give twi an appalachian accent, that's what i'm gonna be referencing lol

(there are some broader characteristics to a character's speech that will flag them as southern, but some of these are specific to me)

a lot of people do not like accents written out phonetically (like, for example, see the points two points below) so that might be something to consider.

i am an editor by trade but just on instinct i find myself struggling with (standard english) verb-noun agreement. i catch myself writing stuff like "they was" and "we was". I don't tend to see "i were" i think that's more an across-the-pond thing, but correct me if i'm wrong anyone.

words will mash together so easy. there's stuff like: jeet (did you eat). wouldna (wouldn't have.) gonna. hafta. wanna. it's about efficiency.

i cannot remember the last time i said the final consonant of contractions or -ing verbs. i am allergic to g's and i am allergic to t's. don. walkin. doin. talkin. some people put apostrophes where the missing letters are and personally that drives me crazy but it's honestly just a matter of taste.

i see people changing and to an'. yes that's how it sounds. i sometimes turn 'of' into 'a' in dialogue so i'm not immune. keep in mind just how much abbreviating you're doing cuz sometimes i gotta decode dialogue between all the abbreviations. it's written, not heard.

ain't, naturally. runner-up: cain't.

someone's gonna tell you that y'all is the be-all end-all of the southern/appalachian plural you. WRONG. consider her sister: the appalachian yunz/yinz, underappreciated, ignored, so sad.

double negatives. TRIPLE NEGATIVES. "You ain't never"

this is more of a twang-type accent characteristic. (note: 'of' is often ommited in phrases like 'more of a.') z-sounds like "wasn't" turn into "wudn't," but for those who don't like writing dialectic speech phonetically this is not necessary

another characteristic of this accent i write twi with is that sometimes words just fully get dropped. certain constructions of verbal clauses using present perfect tense drop the modal completely. i call this the have-drop just in my own head cuz it happens the most with "have been" sentences, where "have" is just removed.

same with above, the standard english sentence is, "The car needs to be washed." i have never said that ever in my life. It's "The car needs washed." It's a holdover from Scots-Irish english.

VERY IMPORTANT: even with all of this, if you don't get the word choice right, or the melody, or the sayings, it's not gonna sound right. I can't really summarize this so I'm gonna use examples from my own writing for clarity.

"i seen" and "they got" and "em"

not sure if this is a southernism. but certain verbs -- something keeps, someone is wallerin all over you (like. smothering you and in your business and not leaving you alone. children and dogs do this) -- kind of ping the sensor imho.

"bubba," "i done told you," "don't be ugly," "have a conniption," "bless your heart," "ornery," that's kind of what i'm talking about. honestly i'm pulling a blank on wild appalachianisms my family say but like, inserting any of these is gonna make your dialogue sound real ... real.

my grandma's told me she's "down in her back," i've missed something so close to my face "if it were a snake it woulda bit me," we "love her to death, but..", we're "praying for him," my mother's nose is upturned so she's "gonna drown in the rain". they can get real fun and real silly.

important bits:

christ if i hear one more time that bless your heart is an insult i'm gonna have a conniption (lol). it is NOT. it certainly can be. it can be passive aggressive. but that's like, one use. it's pity, it's sympathy, it's humor, it's commiserating. if a kid has a big bruise and his mother's telling you that he fell down some stairs at school you gasp and say bless his heart. that's what i mean. and also you can use it to insult somebody with the art of the implied insult of course.

don't be ugly doesn't mean you're ugly. it means you're making a scene or you're being cruel or you're not obeying your mother.

it's about being emphatic !!

it can also be dependent on who you're around. people's accents can be thicker back home and around family and friends and stuff and sometimes it can just be a little twist on a vowel or two!

lastly: have fun. these are not hard and fast. these are silly. this is just my experience. i fully encourage anybody from anywhere else in the south or in the appalachians or her sister regions to weigh in as well.

[howiscallmewhateveridctaken]

Lmfaooo what a week 😅

So a lot of people are, understandably, leaving the fandom. Drama like this always tends to put people off and unfortunately that affects the media they’ve come to love. I’m not going to be one of those people bc honestly, I don’t even know if I was ever that “in” the fandom in the first place to even leave it. My account isn’t and never was a nevermore account, yes I’ve made a few nevermore post but those were infrequent and amongst posts and reblogs of multiple other fandoms. I’m also in the discord server but I’ve only ever been a lurker, and usually only ever go in it when I want more context to something I’ve seen on tumblr. With that being said however, I still plan on reading nevermore when (or if) it continues because in THIS particular instance I can easily separate art from the artist and I’ll explain why in a moment.

Like I said I’m not and never have been very active in the fandom. I learned about this drama through a post from an account I follow and went through the server to find more context. I was not present through any of the actual conflicts but I’ve seen the conversations.

So why am I commenting on this?

Well mainly I want to make a point about para social relationships as well as moderation of servers and fandoms as a creator.

I just want to preface this by saying that after reading through all possible context, perspectives, takes and evidence I could find or come across, I genuinely don’t think red is necessarily a bad/morally wrong person. I DO however think she is in the wrong in this situation especially due to how she handled everything. As for how a lot of people are reacting to everything, there’s a couple of things I’d like to note:

From what I’ve seen, all of this is just one big thing of “he said/she said” and pointing fingers as well as just picking sides. If your absolutely distraught because red didn’t turn out to be the person you thought they were simply because she said things you didn’t like, I understand the disappointment and frustration but please remember that content creators in general aren’t your friends. You don’t know these people, they just do things you happen to like. Now I’m not saying you SHOULDN’T feel upset about it, it’s ok to and you even should if it’s an issue to you feel strongly about but please keep in mind that this isn’t a “sign of their true colors” or anything because you don’t know what they were actually like to begin with. Ofc I don’t mean that to say “expect the worst from people” but more as a reminder that can hopefully help you to look at the situation more critically and logically before jumping in guns blazing. It’s understandable if it affects you emotionally, you were emotionally invested in their work; but please realize this before you let it get to that point. Now on the other side of the coin, there’s the people who I feel as though will just pick the creators side simply because they’re fanboys and will stand by them no matter what. I’m DEFINITELY NOT saying that’s what everyone who’s on red side is, but naturally there’s bound to be a few that are going to dickride for the sake of dickriding. Regardless, there’s a lack of willingness to listen and understand from both sides (at least from what I’ve noticed) and that’s a problem because when no one wants to listen then what’s supposed to be a community coming together to resolve an issue just turns into a giant flame war. Also this should go without saying, but at least give the mods a chance. They obviously handled the whole situation horrendously but they aren’t going to do their jobs any better when they’ve got people coming at them with pitchforks.

Speaking of the moderators. I genuinely can’t wrap my head around how red and the other mods have managed to fumble this badly…….like it’s almost funny. All said and done they all had ONE very simple job and they blew it. Although I very much disagree with it, I do understand red’s decision to unban crimson. They wanted to give them a second chance, sure whatever. What I DONT GET is why would they not at the very least check to see if anyone else would be comfortable with a decision that would possibly affect them or even impact their safety. At the very least a warning to or a discussion with the victims would have been something. Not only that but even after they unban them, once red saw the NUMEROUS amount of people that were upset about it they, they should have immediately banned them again and then apologize after instead of some rushed explanation. But I get it stress gets the better of you. I understand their desire to keep things as transparent as possible (which i appreciate and I’m sure so do many others) but from that first apology/explanation it felt more like red trying to shake responsibility off themselves and pointing fingers in the guise of being transparent. I did see where red was trying to get at in her first statement, but there was also things that she honestly should have just had the foresight to realize wouldn’t put her in a better light, and this is aside from the victim blaming-esque wording. red basically says that she felt like a group of people (including Laci the one who reported crimson) were just out to get crimson, which is absolutely insane but then again it’s the internet so who knows. However it’s super clear that Laci obviously wasn’t lying bc the things she accused crimson of did in fact happen. So even bringing that up was enough for me to raise my eyebrow at but I digress. Then red practically says it was hard to handle the situation bc the evidence provided was censored, but Laci literally offered to give the uncensored versions so that was completely disingenuous on red’s part at best. To me it just seemed like the mods were looking for excuses for what could be there own laziness at best and negligence at worst. Their biggest fault so far is not being very good at actually listening to their audience and taking them into consideration. She also brought up that fact that Laci was apparently the only person to report crimson which I did not like to say the least. One of the victims confided in Laci and Laci brought it forward. I understand reds suspicions about Laci not being in the actual server where it happened but how are you going to immediately jump to “well why did no one else bring it up” instead of stopping for a sec and thinking “ hm clearly these victims feel uncomfortable stepping forward”. Which they had to do now anyway because of how bad the issue became. They should not have had to do that. Better it be just one person reporting, even if it’s someone you don’t like, than no one reporting and the issue persists under the radar.

And then there’s red’s formal apology…

First off, girl why are you dropping names??? A bunch of who are supposedly minors? Like let’s be so fucking for real right now😭

And then the audacity to be like “please don’t go after or dm these people” like babes if you were genuinely worried about them you wouldn’t have used their names at all. ESPECIALLY when in the end it was completely irrelevant and borderline inappropriate since it really had nothing to do with crimson, their actions or how you handled them. Not to mention the act of calling them “cliques” when literally all they were was side servers. Like if they’re cliques then what does that make red and everyone who’s on her side? It was very clearly just a biased reaction to people saying things she doesn’t like about her, which by all means she has the right to respond to but not in a way that is clearly trying to sway how everyone else sees them. The way red describes everything is as if it’s middle school drama and then proceeds to play directly into it. Don’t get me wrong her apology was fine, when she was ACTUALLY apologizing. Everything else felt like a last ditch effort to drag others under the bus with her. It was lowkey embarrassing to say the least.

Again, it’s important that I make it clear that I don’t believe red is a bad person. I just think she’s an immature person, or at least she is in how she handled everything and continues to handle it bc like I said I don’t know her, and don’t care to frankly. I didn’t start reading nevermore to be buddy buddy with her. Like if we look at the grand scope of things, this is a grown woman beefing with kids. Obviously they aren’t all kids, most of them aren’t I believe but she’s practically stooping down to school yard conflict in how she’s responded so far. Especially at one point in the server when she was being called out and jumped to “yeah I guess I’m the bad guy and totally evil. You all should hate me”. Like actually cut that shit out, what are you doing. I mean honestly.

And my final point because I’ve ranted long enough. I mentioned before that in this instance I am willing to separate the art from the artist, I stand by that because I genuinely do think this is a situation where red could hopefully grow from this and rectify things. The actual unbanning was a stupid and inconsiderate move on her part, but I don’t think she meant any ill-will or had any malicious intent. I disagree with the people calling her a r@pe apologist because that’s honestly just a huge reach. I’ve also seen some accusations of red and/or Flynn being racist, promoting inappropriate art knowing there’s minors around and from what I’ve seen it’s pretty iffy. Regarding the racism, I don’t believe that they are. Their characterizations of the characters regarding their ethnicities IS stereotypical and was obviously just very surface level research into those respective cultures but I chopped that up to ignorance rather than racism. As a woc I was frankly just relived they didn’t make the poc characters centered on some kind of discrimination or tragedy from their era, which yes is something that shouldn’t be ignored but also I don’t know if rednflynn could accurately and more importantly, respectfully portray those types of issues. Nor is it even their place tbh. With that being said however I don’t belong to most of the cultures the characters belong to. To me it never seemed like they were making a caricature out of these cultures, especially since their ethnicities are barely relevant to their stories anyway but I acknowledge that it’s not my place to deem what’s offensive or not.

As for the promoting inappropriate art of the characters and creating some themselves. Yeah they do. I’ve never been shocked about that nor did I think it was something that they are wrong for doing, I mean it’s their own work. Granted I didn’t realize how many minors were in the fandom but that’s literally every fandom, there’s only so much you could do about it. I don’t know if nevermore has a rating but it’s not like it was something ever promoted to be kid friendly, it’s obvious that some scenes are just straight up fan service. While I personally don’t like fan service it never was enough to impact the story so I personally never saw an issue. But point is I don’t think they should have to monitor what is and isn’t appropriate for minors but things get tricky when they have a server where they are clearly aware of minors.

And then there’s other things like people accusing them of promoting SA or some shit like that bc of a lot of stuff involving Montessor which frankly, that’s just a media literacy issue on the readers part. So yeah with that being said I don’t think red is a bad person, although I understand why a lot of people are done with them which is completely fair. I’m pretty much in a grey area about it, who knows if they end up getting in an even bigger scandal, hopefully they come out better from this but only time will tell. The best/smartest thing red has said throughout this entire debacle was that they’re taking a step back from the fandom. I think it’ll be good for everyone, especially them. It seems like it’ll take stress off them anyway. Plus the hole they’ve dug for themselves is already halfway to china by now so there’s that

[solitaryandwandering]

A Ramble: Love in the Big City Eps 7-8

WOW. WOW. OKAY. I've been letting episode 8 sink in for the last couple hours, jotting down notes and just generally absorbing this wonderful show. So beautiful. I'm so glad I put aside time to watch this and talk about it with y'all. Just another heads-up: this is a RAMBLE. My thoughts on things usually change, like 15 minutes after I upload these. But they still matter! So I hope they inspire you to think more about your own interpretations or what the show meant to you.

Let's start off with cinematography, shall we? I talked a little about this yesterday, but this director's style is one I tend to gravitate to. I was searching for a way to describe it during the entirety of today's episode and I think I landed on it: "delicate." Not necessarily fragile but lighter in touch. Her style also feels relatively naturalistic. She's intentional in what she does with her camera and what she asks of her actors but the majority of what happens here translates as less-choreographed. Movement is clearly blocked but feels looser? Yeong's behavior specifically reminds me of how freely he moved in the first part. He’s still weighed down and grieving but it feels like Gyu Ho still did something good for him. He feels much more mature, that's for sure. Or maybe this is just coming across more as he visits Bangkok and his relationship with Gyu Ho?

I've also been struggling for a way to describe the lighting in this section - it's definitely intentional but is not as stylized as it was in the last section. I don't think "flat" is the right descriptor, but I do think they're using much more ambient lighting. It's all still pretty, I'm not using this as a negative. The coloring feels kind of dim in parts; I mentioned yesterday that I was reminded a lot of what is considered "indie" cinema which is a very broad statement. Again, what I think I'm picking up on is less reliance on studio lighting or highly-stylized camera blocking. I know for a fact they are not using handheld camera at least for the vast majority of these episodes but it still feels like they are.

Kim Se In actually does quite a bit to achieve her naturalistic style; she utilizes dirty framing (objects or people in the foreground), off-center angles or unique perspectives, and hides some of her more stylized choices with neutral coloring. She usually sticks to medium close-ups; when she doesn't utilize these she still chooses similarly-proportioned framing. Her camera actually moves quite a bit, though I found that they seem to move with what the viewer would naturally be looking at. She's not trying to direct our attention anywhere else. We are moving along with what is happening on screen and in the narrative. When comparing her camera movements to those of Part 1, for instance, she is not as sharp or pointed. Nor are her actors as energized; both the camera and the actors move more languidly or smoothly in comparison. The way she directs her actors around props feels different, too. But maybe that's just me. The score they use across these two episodes is also really interesting, though I'm not really qualified to speak on why.

Visual barriers are a BIG one in this part. We get so many shots of the viewer (or character) looking through curtains, bars in windows, glass walls of a shower, etc. My favorite shot in this part was in episode 8, when Yeong and Gyu Ho are in that really shitty room in Bangkok. They're lying on their backs on the bed, sweaty, and the ceiling fan blades cut between them and the camera. As they talk about the fan falling and smashing them into burger patties, the camera steadily presses in on the two of them until they’re both partially cut off by the frame. Stylized, but not unobtrusively so. It especially fits because it's within the context of a flashback.

Though all four parts feel distinct there are common visual themes throughout all four parts. Mirrors are a big one. But we see a direct contrast in style in the flashback sequences which overlap with the prior section’s. Specifically with the two of them in the boat and running back to the hotel. In the prior depiction it felt more romantic, sunnier with a pretty score. The both of them are happy, carefree, Gyu Ho is helping to roll down the tarp, and I think less people are on the boat? I’ll have to double check. It’s interesting that the flashback does not feel as romantic as it did when they lived it. The way he remembers it, he became bothered as soon as it started raining and was more short with Gyu Ho. The light is dimmer and the camera angles less romantic. They’re also lying side by side instead of in different directions. What is more accurate? What they felt in the glow or after? He definitely blames himself so much for the way their relationship went.

The last thing I'll point out is how cool her use of zooms were. There’s a moment in the market where the camera literally focuses in on Yeong and Gyu Ho like a home video camera. She KILLED ME.

Habibi was such an interesting character to have around in this last section. A direct contrast to Gyu Ho and someone Yeong saw himself in. Lonely and closed-off. In their time together they were alone but keeping each other company in their loneliness. In his flashbacks we can see how happy Gyu Ho made Yeong and how much life he brought. With Habibi he's trying to revisit some of that energy, pushing each other to live. When they're drinking together it's to feel something, to grow closer to someone else. When they walk away one of them says “The taste was never important” - ultimately, though they allowed each other an escape and levity, they will not be able to experience flavor, not the kind which comes with a life fully lived.

I love the way this show was able to feel like a completely cohesive effort despite having four different directors at the helm. Themes I picked up on in other episodes: queer loneliness, heteronormativity (and its relationship to misogyny), ownership, distance, shame, and honesty/communication are all present in every episode. In this part, though, I was just thinking of emptiness. That, and what we do to fill it. Is it an act of futility to try, or is that the whole point?

Everything is empty. Rooms, empty doorways, physical and emotional space between people, soy sauce bottles, the space Gyu Ho used to occupy, relationships, balloons. The future. Yeong, Habibi, and even Eun Su are filling a void. In episode 7 especially it felt that Yeong's life had become empty and unmoving, with occasional intrusions from others who brought activity but not exactly fulfillment. Everyone wants to escape. In chasing his past, trying to determine what's fake and what's real, Yeong found his distraction in Habibi. Yeong and Habibi fill an empty stairwell with laughter, chasing adrenaline and a taste of life. When he's not there, Yeong faces his past and must reconcile with what has been lost.

In the end, what they are searching for is life. Yeong chooses to “live wholly" as himself and suggests Habibi do the same. Eun Sui leaves his unfulfilling relationship. I can only hope that Yeong will learn to take his life back from Kylie and anything which would constrain him. Instead of his life going by in a flash, I can only hope he can find the courage to face it with eyes wide open. Instead of pulling away from others because of disgust with himself, I can only hope he can learn to work through his shame.

Go Yeong means to shine high and bright. He tells Habibi that he's not a star but a nuclear bomb. I hope he doesn't condemn himself to loneliness anymore.

In the end, all he wishes for is love.

Perhaps love is about sharing ourselves, exactly as we are.

Thanks for reading my incoherent, over-written rambles! I was gonna write way more but it was becoming increasingly long and nonsensical. I loved this show, 10/10. Will 100% be reading the book after I finish the two I'm working on. Thank you @lurkingshan and @bengiyo for opening up a space for everyone to come together and talk about LITBC!

[kingconia]

could i request Vil with gn!younger sibling that looks up to Neige?

A/N: That was actually kind of fun to write. Poor Vil, he just can't take a break from Neige's fans...

GN!YOUNGER SIBLING OF VIL, WHO LOOKS UP TO NEIGE CONSTANTLY

— Since Vil was always working, he was prepared to miss changes in your character and life. You were growing up, getting new hobbies, and... Oh? You wanted to became an actor as well? Really? What made you–

— ...What do you mean you want to become like Neige Le Blanche?!

— I don't think he would be mad, most like disappointed and genuinely betrayed by this statement of yours. Why of all celebrities that existed you chose Neige?

— He will be very insecure because of that. You are his sibling, his family—if he is not enough for you, then how can he be enough for auditory and other people?

— However, I don't think Vil try to show his feelings about this matter openly. He would never confront you, because he understands that it would look too petty;

— But his eyes will always lose a certain type of sparkle, when you start speaking of Neige;

— Little did he know the origins of your strange dedication to him, though...

•

When you shyly invited Vil to come along on your first big interview ever, just as a moral support, he was more than happy to accept.

You worked hard for a while, and Vil couldn't miss something like this—you finally got the recognition you deserved, and not because of the family name as you afraid it would happen.

And, even more he was happy to see, that even throughout all these years, you still counted in his company in moments like this. He couldn't let you down.

However, when the interviewer brought up the topic of Neige Le Blanche, Vil definitely wasn't happy...

”Y/n-san, as far as I remember, in the last year, on the premiere of your first movie, you had mentioned that your first inspiration ever was Neige Le Blanche,” the woman started, looking through her notes. ”And, oh, I think we all love Neige, that is undoubted, but... I can't help but wonder what was the exact moment, when you realised it? What he said—or did, perhaps—that changed your life so suddenly?”

Vil scrunched his nose.

Truth to be told, it was the question he didn't know the answer himself.

When it came to speaking of this little devil, Vil ignored whatever you said. And eventually, as you noticed this tendency of his, you stopped talking about him at all.

”Oh,” your face softened instantly, smile raising on your lips. ”When I was a little kid, I often was left all alone—my dad and my big brother were always working, that was why—and so, I spent most of my time, watching something on the TV. And that was when I stumbled across his interview. Yes, yes, I am going to be honest with you—before that, I had never seen him acting. It was after this interview, when I started to learn about him more.”

Vil raised his eyebrows in a slight surprise. He always assumed that much like others, you saw talent in his roles. And now, your obsession seemed even more strange.

”It was an interview for the Magicgue, where he told about his way in the industry. He spoke a lot about his motivation, and his family situation—how he came there only to earn more money for people, who took care of him so wholeheartedly,” you started to explain, hands playing with the ring on your index finger. ”Oh, it is an amazing interview, by the way. I watch it often, even now.”

”Ah, yes, I remember it, too.”

”This interview got me thinking about so many things at the same time, but... Let me share with the most important ones,” suddenly, Vil noticed a hint of embarrassment on your face. ”Back then, when I first saw it, I used to be mad at my brother a lot. He was always away, tending to forget about me. And only when Neige spoke of how hard it is, to be a young actor and celebrity in general, I came to realisation that... My brother forgets about me not intentionally. Filming is not a silly entertaining work. And that the fact he still manages to remember about me, through whole labour he goes through—that what should matter the most.”

He had never thought about that. He didn't even know that you used to resent him before. Vil could never guess that you cared that much about his absense.

”... Instantly, I wanted to understand how can I help him,” you continued. ”I wanted to support him. And that only meant that for that, I need to understand him. So he could share with me the weight from his shoulders. It was the first reason I decided to try myself as an actor. Of course, later I found out that there so much more interesting and thrilling, though, tiring things about acting, but...”

Vil didn't hear the rest of it.

You were right, he realised. He was distant from you, until you decided to became a celebrity yourself. And if not for that, Vil would never share his fears and insecurities, different kind of experience with you. Because, he did only to help you in the future—either way, Vil would keep it to himself until the very end. How could he burden his little one like that, after all?

Suddenly, Vil couldn't be bothered by your Neige's obsession anymore. Not when it was always about him, in the first place.

Not when you cared about him all this time.

”We have a footage after that,” Adele hissed in his ear suddenly, tugging him on the sleeve.

”Yeah,” Vil nodded automatically, a loving gaze directed fully on you. ”And?”

”Stop ruining your mascara, idiot.”

He blinked a few times, and only when his fingertips touched his cheeks, he realised that there were tears, running down his face.

Yet, it only made him smile.

Today was a good day.

”I am just very proud of them,” he muttered.

And that was, indeed, a truth.

[bleachbleachbleach]

Hiiiii, re ur post abt goals and the whole being more active in the community thing -- I'll try to remember to interact with u more than just liking/reblogging things! I've been super quiet on my own blog since I had burnout two years ago but I'm trying to get back into doing more than just occasionally posting fic, and honestly I love a lot of ur head canon posts and metas etc. I probably won't read any of ur fic because I'm a Bit Weird in that for some reason I hate reading fic in the fandoms I write for (but still love metas and headcanons? Brains sure are weird) but everything else I'll try to actually Write Words instead of letting my thoughts stay in my head!

This is such a sweet message! <3333333

I would totally welcome conversation, and it’s great to know that you are open to it, too. Because I feel like Tumblr as a platform runs on a parallel play model on purpose, and most people probably just want to do that, and my hesitation in going full throttle about using Tumblr the way I would want is my fear that it is going to be obnoxious/overbearing/overwhelming (e.g. driving people to madness via “Why is this person talking to me… I didn’t want to talk to them...”).

It’s so funny you should say that, re: enjoying hcs/meta but not fanfic in your writing fandoms, because I think about that divide a lot! Half the time I spend writing most* headcanon posts is actually time spent workshopping “sooooo…. how do I say this without saying ‘well, in my fanfic…’” because it’s probably something I already wrote in fanfic or notes for fanfic, but 1) I want to talk to people about it, and the chances that I will get to if it’s written in a fanfic are fairly slim, and 2) I want to hear other people’s versions of it, too. In their fanfic, if they write fanfic, but also their posts or tags!

But that can be complicated because in my mind, [insert headcanon post topic] tends to be fairly situated in context—the context of fic things having happened, or things that are going to happen, or thematic undercurrents/relationships—so it becomes a project in trying to make the proposition NOT sound completely bananas without that context/something being written in a particular way. Which can sometimes be its own kind of fun and is sometimes like “good grief, I could have simply been writing more fanfic!” (I feel like I should emphasize here that no one should feel obligated to read my fanfic. I mean, I want people to want to read it! But I very much do not want anyone to feel like they Have To or like they need to explain why they’re not!)

Our approaches are opposite, in that my brain is fanfic forward, both for myself and for others’ fanfic. But I do feel like a lot of RP blogs share your orientation re: not wanting to read other versions of the character they write for! I don’t know if this is where you, specifically, are coming from, but I’ve read on some of the RP blogs that it has a lot to do with having a strong investment in their own particular color on things, and wanting that centered and front of mind. (Which isn’t to say that sentiment isn’t true of most people, I think, because otherwise they wouldn’t write them that way—it’s true of me—but ymmv on how much someone wants to see the other iterations.)

For me, I know that I’m a lot less adventurous about Interpretations That Excite Me for my blorbos than other characters I might read for. Like, to use a silly example, in my mind Soi Fon is 100% Lesbian (which stands out in my headcanon space because I generally assume most everyone in Bleach would be on some level willing to get down with most anyone else), but did I click on Soi Fon/Vegeta when I came across it anyway? Absolutely I did. I barely know who Vegeta is. But my down-to-clown boundaries with Soi Fon are very low, nearly tabula rasa, so go get Vegeta, girl!!!! Whereas for like, Hitsugaya, I’m probably not going to read Hitsugaya/Vegeta because I am not actually a crossover person, my knowledge of DBZ is limited to The Osmotic Experience of Having Grown Up in the 90s, and my favorite version of Hitsugaya’s sex life is the absence of one.

*Of course, there are other headcanons posts in the omake/filler vein that are simply too dumb (affectionate) for me to want to write full fanfic of, like the Gotei regatta or the Gotei bowling league, or that “I think the average shikai user would probably be pretty good at driving a car but they would NOT be considerate or lawful users of said car” post.

[epicspheal]

Where's My Sister's Purrloin!? A Hugh Analysis

"Yeah… OK! Let's go get your Pokémon! There's something I have to do! And to do that, I need someone I can trust besides my partner Pokémon. A person I can trust! That's right! I'm talking about you! You seem like you've got good instincts!" <- Meeting Hugh outside of Aspertia City

Oh Hugh! Definitely one of the most misunderstood rivals. Also one of my favorites (also that seems to be a trend with the characters I like but that's a topic for another day). Hugh is our sole rival in BW2 and he's a rival with one of the most unique motivations for a rival character in the franchise.

Let's start by looking at Hugh's name which is rather straightforward. In all of the translations it's a homophone for the word Hue which is a major property of colors in color theory. He follows the naming conventions of Cheren and Bianca in that there all color themed which harks back to gens 1 and 2 where the main characters have color names (which makes sense as gen 5 was a bit of a soft reboot to the franchise in some respects). Of note his German, Spanish and French names of refer to the famous painter Henri Matisse who was known for his Fauvism style which opted for strong colors, again reinforcing the color symbolism. Interesting to note that Hugh as a given name that has mix of Irish and Germanic origin meaning "mind, intellect and spirit" with it actually being an anglicized version of Gaelic "Aodh" which means "fire". Hugh is certainly very intellectual, spirited and fiery especially when it comes to getting his revenge on Team Plasma and getting his sister's Purrloin back.

Next to look at his team. Like many rivals, he gets a traditional starter, but it's one that he raised from an egg. One that's actually stronger than your starter on the type chart. But honestly I think his signature Pokemon (based on what we see in Pokemas) is his Bouffalant. Bouffalant is described in a few Pokedex entries as be wild and reckless charging at everything. Which is quite reminiscent of Hugh during much of the game when it comes to Team Plasma. Indeed when you take a look at the rest of his team members you'll see that often times Hugh opts for high-risk, high reward moves such as Wild Charge on his Eelektross and Bouffalant (which gives recoil), Giga Impact on his Unfezant (forces the user to not use any move after atacking, leaving it vulnerable), Fire Blast/Hydro Pump/Leaf Storm on his starter (high powered but not 100% accuracy).

Which when you look at his character overall, makes a lot of sense. He's very passionate but the passion veers into recklessness in many respects.

Hugh gets a lot of flak from the community for going on and on about his sister's Purrloin. But people do that forget this is his driving motivation. And also most Pokemon characters tend to repeat themselves (which is less a symptom of them being bad characters, but of the writers not knowing how to vary dialogue that gets the point across without being repetitive).

But yes Hugh's very unlike most rivals in that he really isn't concerned about the rivalry. It's not that Hugh is a jerk. He's very kind to the player and generally respectful of others outside of Team Plasma (to whom he does not show a lot of mercy to in the beginning). It's just his primary goal isn't besting the protagonist. Rosa/Nate just so happen to be friends that he challenges to see if they can keep up with him while he takes down Team Plasma. In many ways he expands on the role carved out by Silver, who also was more concerned strength for the sake of defying his father than dealing with the protagonist but just didn't mind antagonizing them when they crossed paths. And Gladion and Marnie also fall in this trend as being more concerned about a goal that's not just "I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was".

"You're a little worried? Are you KIDDING me?! Your Pokémon might be lost forever! Whatever! I'll look! ! Help out!" <- On Flocessy Ranch

This a line that sticks out to me as it occurs when the owners of the Floccessy Ranch lost their Herdier and Hugh is extremely upset…more upset than Herdier's actual owners. At this point in the story he hasn't revealed the whole bit about his sister's Purrloin but this line is good foreshadowing to the eventual reveal. He's seen the trauma first hand of a stolen Pokemon can do and it causes an immediate reaction

"Shut it! You guys are the worst! You talk about saving Pokémon, but you're just Pokémon thieves! Don't think I'll ever forgive you!" <- Meeting Team Plasma in Virbank

Now I know Pokemon isn't known for writing but I honestly feel like they were doing a good job in slowly revealing more about Hugh and his motivations as we continued to encounter him during the journey. Once again we're adding more to Hugh, that not only has he probably seen a Pokemon get stolen, but that Pokemon was stolen by Team Plasma. But more importantly you can see a major flaw of his. That he is struggling with forgiveness as we see that he constantly references not forgiving Team Plasma throughout the game

"Five years ago… Team Plasma stole my little sister's Purrloin. It had been given to her as a present. I was only a little kid… I couldn't do anything… So… So that's why I have to get stronger!" <- Nimbasa City

And here's the big reveal. Now what sticks out to me is how powerless he felt. Of course this is a common trope with young characters who have been in serious situations to feel powerless and become hellbent on getting stronger to the point it kind of blinds them in a way (cough Paulo cough). But it's nice to see this in Pokemon with Hugh. It fits into the underlying theme of BW2 that deals with progression and how the region of Unova as a whole progresses from the events two years prior.

Given that Hugh states that Purrloin was taken 5 years ago that means that Team Plasma had been starting their public operations 3 years prior to the events of the original Black and White Games (we know of course N had been groomed by Ghetsis to be king as a young child but this gives us confirmation of them starting more public operations earlier in the timeline). Hugh, his sister, and countless others in Unova had been suffering the loss of their Pokemon for half a decade and that's heartbreaking.

Hugh: "Wait! I just remembered. Clay… Why? What's the reason? Why have you forgiven Team Plasma?" Clay: "There's always room for folks to grow and change, ain't there? And, if ya only go after what ya think is right, ya might end up rejectin' all thoughts and opinions other than yer own. That's mighty dangerous." Hugh: "Hmph… Is that one of those compromises adults are supposed to make? Whatever! I'm gonna fight Team Plasma! Oh yeah, what were you wanting to show us?" <- Clay and Hugh after the player wins the Quake Badge from Clay

This exchange is really important as while Hugh at the moment isn't truly ready for forgiveness from Team Plasma…it's shows he's not so closeminded to the idea as if he were, he wouldn't have even asked Clay why he had forgiven them. He's still resistant to the idea of forgiving Team Plasma as we see in later moments he's vary wary of working with ex-Team Plasma members to fight off Neo Team Plasma, but all hope is not lost. This is an important first step in his overall growth.

"That's the ONLY Purrloin in the world that my late grandpa caught for my little sister!" <- On the Plasma Frigate for the second time

This is a huge line for me. I've seen one too many people joke over the years "It's just a Purrloin, LUL. Why can't he just go get another one for his sister" and it lowkey irks me. Like his late grandfather went out of his way to catch that Purrloin for his sister. That's special. And even if their grandpa was still alive, or if someone else had of caught it, it doesn't change the fact that Hugh's sister bonded with that Purrloin. That's not a bond you can simply replace. Who knows if another Purrloin and his sister would've bonded the same way. It shows a great deal of maturity on Hugh's part to understand what that Purrloin meant to his sister compared to those (both in-universe and out) who say it's just as easy as replacing the Pokemon with another one.

"Wh-what? Don't mess with me… That's someone else's Pokémon!" "Sorry… This situation is messing with my head… I just don't know what to do… I finally found my sister's Pokémon, but now it's glaring at me… Why?!" "… … Hey… … If we let Team Plasma do whatever we want… There'll be more sad Pokémon like Purrloin and Kyurem…" <- On the Plasma Frigate for the third time upon finding his sister's Purrloin

This is such a poignant moment in BW2 for me because Hugh finally finds his sister's Pokemon…only for it to glare at him because it's now used to being under the Shadow Triad's control. You can feel his hurt through his words because this was his goal. This moment. And now he's not even sure he can bring this Purrloin back to his sister. Give Hugh a hug because he deserves it.

"Thanks to you, I accomplished what I set out to do during my journey! I wish I could've shown you my little sister's huge smile! This is my thanks!" <- Victory Road

We get a chance to meet Hugh in Victory Road and we get to hear some good news. His sister and Purrloin have been reunited! It's really touching to see such a good ending for him and his family. Hugh's dialogue is also much more relaxed in Victory Road now that his mission is over. It's good to see him more at ease after him being so wound up the majority of the playthrough

"What? I heard that Team Plasma left many Pokémon behind when they fled. And I'm helping find their real Trainers… That aside… Since you're here, you should have a battle with me before you go!" <- In Driftveil for postgame rematches

And even better? Hugh's begun to forgive Team Plasma (well at least the part that was genuinely following N). This is a huge step forward for someone who was pushing Team Plasma grunts out the way earlier and being hellbent on vengeance. Hugh honestly has one of the most satisfying conclusions for a rival in my opinion. He gets his goal, he learns a valuable lesson in accepting that (some) people can change, and he doesn't have to feel inferior to the player who is constantly beating him.

But Hugh's not done there! When he arrives in Pokemas we get to see him featured in two prominent stories. The first one is Revel In Rivalry where he gets into beef with Bede. It shows that while he has grown he still is a bit quick tempered seeing how easily provoked by Bede he was. But he learns to calm down and come to a truce much faster than he did with Team Plasma (granted there were more dire circumstances there) showing how he had grown from his journey.

Then of course there's the Unova Villain arc where this time it's Hugh that has his partner Bouffalant stolen. And to make matters worse he's been captured alongside N. What I loved about the Unova Villain arc is the focus on Hugh's growth. Yes, he's still very hotheaded. But he's learned to trust and forgive seeing as how he figured out N's identity well before Ghetsis told him in an attempt to break the partnership the two had formed while in captivity. Pre-character development Hugh would've flipped his shit on N. But hearing him talk about the people who spoke so highly of N (referencing the fact that Hugh works with the good part of Team Plasma to get the stolen Pokemon back to their trainers) and him saying he trusts N shows how much he's grown. It's really heartwarming to see him and N team up against Ghetsis' sorry ass.

So yeah, Hugh's a great character that I feel like needs more love in the fandom.

[aliasrocket]

How do you imagine having a first date with Rocket would go? Poor guy would probably be so nervous cause it would be his first real date ever.

OOO I’m usually not good at fluff but this would be a good warm up so why not?? Thanks for this request this is so cute <3

(Side note for those of you who read ‘last (friday) night’, you can take this as a sequel that happens like a year after multiple ‘accidental’ nights and they finally sort out their feelings.)

(This was supposed to be a drabble but it would appear I got carried away. I might post this to ao3 if I’m in the mood HAHAH RIP)

taglist : @caesarhamato22 @cosmic-lavender @shybabylovestmnt-blog (send me an ask if you wanna be on my taglist! Do specify what kind of content you’d like tonbe tagged for <33) or

masterlist! :> / request stuff :D

“Buy me dinner first, captain.”

It was supposed to be stupid joke. That’s the thing. Even Rocket laughed at the time. You laughed at the time.

So that perfectly explained why he’s grounded in dark blue lighting, the low light outside giving his room a taste of the windy evening while he adjusted the tie around his neck.

“Dinner,” he murmured, lips barely parting. “Yeah, right.”

He grabbed the knob to his door and it flew open and shut right after he slipped past it.

He was immediately greeted by the chilly Knowhere air, proving his effort of putting on a suit jacket useful. He typically didn’t like putting on a coat so early in the night, but judging from the people fading by the street, it was probably going to be a colder night.

Your door.

His feet stood planted on the ground, shoulder width apart after he’d slipped his hands into his pockets.

Hello, door.

Was that enough?

Of course not.

But talking to the door is a lot easier than knocking on it, Rocket found, with the way his hand shivered at the very thought of leaving its snug pocket.

His hand rose from its bed anyway, stopping right before the plastic surface in a fist.

Boom.

Well, he was being dramatic. It was really more of a knock.

He knocked two more times, and his hand quickly retreats back into his now warm pocket.

One second, two then three when a cool air brushed past him and a light touched his fur.

“Oh! Look at you, all dolled up.”

You had your head tilted and your back arched as both your hands tended to an earring on your right ear. Rocket wandered further down, observing the shine on your exposed shoulders, the spaghetti strings holding your dress up and how it so generously cherished your curves in its hold.

Rocket licked his lips. Cold air can turn your lips dry, he reminded himself.

“What can I say? You’re a doll.” He shrugged. “Ready?”

He almost had the instinct of holding one hand down but that would mean taking the other out of his pocket. They were dampening his pants from the humidity on his palms.

“Yeah!” You beamed with a cherry-chapstick smile, a white glimmer gilding across your lip as you closed the door behind you. “Where are we going?”

Rocket chuffed to himself, a smile curling his lips. “I think I’d better show you than tell you.”

“C’mon, I know all the great restaurants around here. It won’t take long for me to guess.”

You both descended down the last flight of stairs before making contact with the ground—your apartment hadn’t been as high up as many of the other civilians in Knowhere.

“First of all, we’re not goin’ to any restaurant. Second of all, it so, definitely would take you a millennia to guess.”

“Mm, and why’s that?”

Rocket wasn’t sure if it had been on purpose, but he could have sworn he heard that line from a 50’s show on Terra. That’s what they would call it, anyway, and they were usually of really poor quality and the film would be black and white. When he looked up, your lip was still the light’s favorite, gracing it with a little white dot as if Rocket hadn’t already given it all the attention it deserved.

“Because I’m not taking you anywhere you’ve been before,” Rocket replied.

It didn’t take long before you both reached the desired destination.

“Why are we at a parking lot?”

“You wound me, princess,” Rocket lamented theatrically, holding his hands to his chest. He snickered at his own gesture after you laughed at it too. “Don’t you know I wouldn’t take you to just any parking lot?”

“What kind of parking lot is this then?” You held a hand to your hip, and Rocket stole a quick glance before quickly looking away. Needless to say, it highlighted your hips a lot more than he would have liked for his own well-being.

“You’ll see.”

You both walk a little further in to find a large ship, and it probably occupied the entire parking lot from its sheer size alone.

“Woah,” your lips hung parted as your head swung left and right to get the whole view of the vehicle. “Your ship?”

“The guardians’, but basically, yes,” Rocket’s brows furrowed with a smug grin. “It’s called the Bowie.”

“Bowie—as in David Bowie? The Terran singer?”

“Yeah.” Rocket nodded. “You know him?”

“I mean, duh. I lived on Terra, once upon a time,” you smiled.

Rocket smiled too.

You seemed to notice.

“Wanna check it out?”

“You’re asking me if I wanna check out a ship named the Bowie? We’re going!” You laughed and began to run, forcing Rocket to chase after you.

Rocket gave you a conservative tour of the ship, but you didn’t seem to mind when he managed to swiftly get you across to the cockpit of the ship where the real magic was.

“Is—is that takeout?”

“Yeap. Terran delights. You seem very in touch with your roots so I started there.”

You rush towards the brown bags, peering inside to see the blue holographic container given in most takeouts orders to keep food warm. Rocket walks over to the pilot seat and you open the container.

“Fuck, chicken, I’ve missed this,” you sighed, inhaling the delicious aroma now filling the air.

The handles in Rocket’s seat was now infected by his damp hands. He clenched his jaw, wiping his palms on his pants harshly before pulling up a holographic control panel.

“Rocket,” you said cautiously. “Rocket what are you doing—”

“Getting a better view for our table.”

And that, he did, when the entire parking lot floor began to oscillate and the walls unfolded rigidly to reveal a familiar lens that seemed to unscrew.

“What—wait that’s—”

“Do me a favor?”

“What—we’re going to space?”

“Yeah. Strap on, put the food on your lap and do not let go of the bag.”

“Rocket, are you sure about this?”

“It’s completely safe. And I’m a pilot, remember?” Rocket’s chair pivoted to face you.

You stared out at the windshield, back slouching as you said nothing. Your eyes had perfectly reflected the stars and the skies that strewn the canvas of space.

Though, Rocket wasn’t quite sure if it was a reflection of the stars or something your eyes already behold.

“Hey.”

You look up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

You blinked, and your gaze was no longer on him. Your head was still tilted up but your eyes had wandered somewhere else.

“It’s … been a while. That’s all.”

“We don’t have to go,” Rocket said, softer than he would have thought, or liked. It made his voice … light. Something he didn’t consider himself to be.

“No!” You exclaimed, and then cleared your throat. “I-I mean, um, no, sorry—this is amazing. I want to go. I’m just … nervous. That’s all.”

“Don’t worry,” Rocket consoled, his voice becoming something of a velvet texture when it rolled past his tongue. “It’s nothing but gorgeous out there. You’ll fit right in.”

You covered your mouth.

Rocket grinned. It was stupid, sure, but he saw the way your cheeks rose and knew he didn’t have to worry.

And with that, you settled into the seat a few feet away from Rocket’s own, placing the brown bag on your lap and holding onto the rim.

You gave him a nod, and Rocket snickered as your head was sent back onto the head rest at take off, pressing before you found the strength to resist the pushing force.

Rocket was quick to settle the ship in space, the view partially including the ancestral head Knowhere was stowed away in. The rest of it had been space and everything else it’s always been; an endless, black vacuum lucky enough to end up with stars as freckles.

Except, this view had been different—somehow, there were some purple and blue hues bleeding into the black scene like paint being dipped in murky water.

“Holy shit.”

It was as quiet as a breath one would let out in an exhale, but somehow, Rocket heard it all the same.

“Holy shit is right,” he chimed in.

“Rocket … where is this …?”

“We’re near a planet and this one in particular gives off a plasma that’s highly reactive to its own natural hydrocarbons, so it takes the purple color of the planet’s surface and it drifts past the planet’s atmosphere and—”

You got off your seat and quickly set down the food on the floor between the two pilot seats.

“Oh! Sorry, continue—”

“No, you’re right, I should shut up,” Rocket agreed with a smile before getting off his seat and crossing his legs on the floor.

Rocket frowned as soon as you were occupied with the food. The thing is, he can’t really remember the last time he’s rambled like that to someone else. It wasn’t like he expected you to understand him and the only other person he’d ever rambled about science to is …

You set aside the brown bag, allowing Rocket a better view of you. You place down his own food container before opening yours again.

You took one of the pieces of chicken in your hand, your head lowered but your eyes on Rocket’s own.

“And it never drifts far because of the planet’s gravity, right?”

Rocket’s ear twitched and he perked up at your words. He felt the end of his tail jerk in every so often and he tried his best to keep it directly behind him.

“How’d you know?” He asked, grabbing a utensil and scooping up his own food.

“We go to school on Terra. Ever heard of it?” You joked.

“For some reason, I don’t buy it—not the school thing but the ‘they teach us in school’ thing,” Rocket said in a pitchy voice, stuffing his mouth with food and chewing.

( you weren’t surprised. If you were being completely honest, you wanted nothing less than to impress and knowing that Rocket was a pilot, you’d done all the research you could about space and took in anything that was comprehendible for you. School was nothing but a nightmare. It’s one of the reasons you left earth. But rocket didn’t need to know that. )

“Rocket, chew your food, c’mon,” you said with a smile.

You titter at his state, and rightfully so; he had taken a huge bite, and he was lucky you didn’t have a mirror on you or else his cybernetically engineered rib cage might combust.

“But for the record, it …”

Rocket exhaled through his nose.

The purples floating in space had somehow also gotten on your form and smudged itself on your cheek. You weren’t facing space, and it was at this moment that Rocket knew,

you had your own solar system, orbiting in your very eyes.

“It means a lot to me.”

You smiled.

Rocket wondered if the rose tint had always been in your cheeks or if it always emerged whenever you did something pretty.

Certain images of you began flooding his mind, images he’d seen before; the way you bite your lip, how it parted when he tugged your hair or did something to make you elicit those lovely sounds he relished hearing.

“The food is amazing,” you complimented right after swallowing your first bite. “Thank you, I really, really missed this.”

“It’s not my cooking, but no problem,” Rocket replied.

Both of you look out at the windshield, taking the view in once more and making sure it seeps into the little gaps of fur and skin.

“I know this date’s only just started but …”

Rocket turned back to you, another bite of food ready on his spoon.

“This might be the best day of my life.”

Rocket froze.

Soon enough, the spoon ended up in his mouth, withdrawing as soon as his teeth scraped the food off for him to chew.

“Well that’s a little depressing,” he smiled.

It turned into a hearty guffaw at your frown, your own mouth too stuffed with chicken for you to reply so soon.

“How is this day being the best of my life depressing?” You managed to make out right after swallowing your food.

“It’s a first date with take out fried food and we’ve barely just begun—”

“Well I’m sorry for finding your well-thought out date to be one of the best things I’ve ever experienced!”

Rocket paused for the second time that night.

“You mean that?”

Your eyebrows raised. “Of course, I mean that. I wouldn’t go out on a date with someone I didn’t like, I’ve spent way too much time on Terra doing that.”

“Well, then … what else is up on that list?”

“Hm?”

Rocket’s eyes were practically tied to your body. He’d been looking at the stars for half the night, but each sentence you spoke somehow made you lean forward a little more and due to the nature of your dress, you sat with your legs glued together but folded by the side.

All of which gave Rocket a very distracting view.

He couldn’t just steal a glance like before, no—because your dress stopped right above your cleavage and with you leaning forward, it was an angle that was all too hard to simply steal.

“What else was on your list of ‘the best things you’ve experienced’?”

Rocket looked away, finally.

But it might have been too late.

You snorted.

“That’s real cliché, Rocket,” you remarked.

“Hey, I’m sorry! I’m only a man—a man who’s happened to have the luxury of having sex with you and now I think I kinda want more,” Rocket confessed frankly.

“Tell you what,” you began, setting your chicken bone down on your food container. “Thirty minutes,” you paused, gesturing towards the food. “Wait for this to settle. Then I’ll suck your dick on that chair.”

“Fuck,” Rocket exhaled. “You’re so goddamn hot when you do that.”

thank you so much for reading!! <3

// tip jar. commissions.

[doshmanziari]

Without a doubt, and by far, the most marginalizing development I've seen within media analysis over the past decade is a shift towards the production of long, flashy videos which tend to require the same for a dialogue to occur. Literally nothing which has been written about Elden Ring, for example, since its release has enjoyed even a fraction of the visibility as a one-hour-and-forty-minutes video by Joseph Smith, or another of similar length by NeverKnowsBest. I don't know when exactly the shift started to happen most obviously -- maybe 2016 or 2017 -- but, today, circumstances are such that pretty much the only way to get real discursive traction on your thoughts about a piece of media is to make a colossus of a video.

Although worried and worrying discourse has complemented the unveiling of newer public A.I. technologies, we've already done a perfectly fine job of out-dating other forms of media communication by way of the aforementioned analytic format; just as, of course, earlier methods of industrial production rendered a whole variety of professions or emphases as outmoded. If you don't have the relevant editing tools at your disposal and/or don't want to spend hundreds of hours cropping footage and making it fit with music and your own narration, well -- too bad! And even then, of course, there's no guarantee that your video will reach your desired scale of an audience. I've found dozens of such videos on YT channels with only a few thousand views, if that; and on each channel it's clear that the people finally gave up after the monumental task of assembling these videos had no equivalent payoff.

Personally, I do still believe in the primacy of the text (or the spoken word, with no competing stimuli); in text as the primary form of critical engagement. More than that -- if I'm going to read a non-fiction work, I want the paged book, and not a digital version. Now, this preference is just that: a preference. And it surely is a preference a good number of people share. I find that a paged book lends itself better to my own retention of the material; and I really enjoy making my notes on the book's paper with a pen. But I don't believe that the construction of multimedia behemoths should be a baseline requirement for discourse.

I wonder if we will, in the near future, start to see some resurgence of the valuation of unembellished textual analysis complementing a more general fatigue with Internet-derived overstimulation. I've already run across numerous channels with fairly sizable communities where there is an appreciation for the "simplicity" of the formats: a person in a room just talking to the camera. I think a lot of people like engaging analysis where the only barrier of significance is devising a good script. To be sure, this is a formidable barrier in itself. I find writing long-form pieces to be the most difficult of any of my creative practices (which include drawing, painting, and music composition). But if writing on media were my main passion or goal in life, I'd feel fairly crushed to know that these projects now required me to put in perhaps quadruple the amount of time to make a blip on the radar of engagement.

EDIT: Thinking on this -- I wonder if there's a parallel to be found in the realm of supplementing one's work with excess-entertainment via social media engagement; e.g., daily Instagram videos. "Excess-entertainment" refers to material that's being made not because everyone who's making it wants to make it, but because each person is now beholden to an abstractly instituted algorithm of engagement -- an algorithm reinforced by audiences who, also under algorithmic influence, will wonder what's going on if a week goes by without something from a Content Creator.

Most artists who I've talked to regarding their Instagram videos say they would be only too happy if they never had to do another upload showing them adding paint or linework to a work-in-progress with lo-fi beats. Similarly, I wonder how many people making these mega-videos actually want to make them, and if we're not rather seeing the production of this material under a mutual, and mutually untrue, assumption of necessity, and the demands of a largely imaginary audience; and how long they'll be able to keep the act up, given the certainly enormous time investments they require (while noting that I am sure the more successful people hire others to do most of the editing for them).

[tenderhooked]

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

Tagged by the wonderful @lady-of-the-spirit and the lovely @kvetchinglyneurotic and the incredible @altschmerzes!! thank you guys <3

1. How many fandoms have you written in?

3 (ted lasso, daredevil, and thor & loki which i'm counting as one)! but i have a lotta fics in the works for different fandoms ESPECIALLY as of now the bear. because. if you've been on or near my blog lately. You Know.

2. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

writing fanfiction? probably since i was like 11/12, so 8 or 9 years. but that was just for goofy fun in my google docs. i didn't publish my first Actual fic till just last year in fact!!

3. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

i think i go through like... idk, waves or something? when i first watch/read something that Sparks The Brain, i'll devour all the fic i can tailored to my interests/character dynamics/etc. but then i usually start writing and once i do that i read fic a loooooot more sporadically and i'll go through long periods of not reading any fic, just writing my own and re-watching/re-reading the source material.

4. What is one way you've improved as a writer?

hmmmmmm. Hmmmmmmmmm. i think that writing fic has allowed me to get more comfortable with writing platonic intimacy and affection and love? i've always wanted to, but there's so much amatonormativity (no, autocorrect, i don't mean noninflammatory JDKLFJ) in the world and especially in fandom spaces that it always felt like. idk. something that i Shouldn't be writing, i guess? but entering into the fandom space myself and engaging with other incredible lovely brilliant creators has given me SUCH a boost in terms of like. really leaning into what i love writing because it is important and good and true and necessary.

5. What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

for the mom city fix it, i had to do a lot of research about funeral planning in london specifically, and it was really reaaallyyyyy hard because apparently every single place has different laws and rules about what you can do, what you can't do, et cetera. i was trying to figure out how jamie could just like. Not. have to deal with that. and i finally stumbled across the possibility of public health funerals, which was so perfect and only took ten hours of me frantically googling "what do you DO if a family member DIES and you HATE THEM".

6. What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

is it cheating to say any and all? because it's true! but i do have a special place in my heart for comments that pull out specific lines and react to them they're very :') to me.

7. What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

i feel like in the general Fandomness of fandom gen affection/love/intimacy tends to be sparse? i'm so so lucky to have found people here that enjoy those types of stories as much as i do but. i guess they would still kinda be considered fringe to most.

8. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

happy stories? where nothing goes wrong?? Who Is She

9. What is the easiest type?

it's not like. EASY easy because it often ends with me clawing out my hair but. more often than not my fics will quickly spill over from "ooh a 2k one-shot" to "HOLY FUCK the sub-plots are multiplying". and those longer fics often come more naturally and tend to be more introspective, messy, full of emotion.

10. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

i toggle back and forth between google docs, scrivener, and my phone notes app! and i do most of my writing like. whenever, i suppose? we've got a couch by three big ol' windows and i love sitting there bc i can look out and there's so much natural light. unfortunately, i think most of my Best writing happens at the beautiful sexy hours of 2 in the morning.

11. What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

i really want to write like. something explicitly Whump-related, i suppose? i think a lot of my fics have definitely done the emotional whump side of things, but i want to do a fic that's also got the physical whump. luckily i have a bad things happen bingo card now, so! we shall see where the tides of fate take me!

12. What made you choose your username?

oh my god. [buries face in hands]. embarrassing. when i was twelve and didn't have tumblr yet i decided that when i One Day did have an account it was going to be 'sighonara' because. haha. sayonara but SIGHonara . puntastic. and then when it did come time to make my tumblr account that idea had kinda stuck so i was just like. might as well! and i'm not displeased with that tbh. feels good feels right.

i'm doing this so late that i'm not sure who's been tagged and who hasn't so! feel free to ignore this if you've already gotten it (or if you just. don't want to do it which is so fair <3)! @thirteenemeraldcats, @jamietarttsnorthernattitude, @orbitalpirate, @anguishmacgyver, @roughroadhaley, @eluvion, and @jamietxrtt!!

[the-owl-tree]

on that note, if you were going to rewrite the sisters/write a similar group, what sort of approach would you take? ( planning on doing something like that if the motivation gods bless me)

i've made some big changes for the sisters for my beanie blog (pspspsps @askwcbean) but I think it really depends on the group you're trying to create. I wanted to keep the Sisters as a sustainable, self-growing group but keep some of the flaws (their strong sense of a gender binary). I don't want to make a utopian society out of spite, but I do want to make a society that could reasonably survive. Soooo (a combo of my ideas & stealing from others):

my collection of bullet point ramblings under the cut

The Sisters are very open to those willing to join and learn. They are a collection of loners, rogues, and kittypets. Not only does this keep our bloodlines less janked up, but it makes sense as to why the group can keep a reasonable amount of cats - they aren't closed off like the clans.

They'll often adopt abandoned kits, cats who are in bad situations, and generally anyone who is willing to learn and work with the group. This is a group that relies on diplomacy and good relations with others, they should be very open to outsiders.

Get rid of the super special bloodline thing. It's both a personal and practical thing, it doesn't work for a group like this. Have being able to see spirits be something you can be taught

I'm not giving Tree super special ghost powers. Sorry, I'm going to forever make fun of his novella it's so fucking stupid. He can see ghosts and has a heightened sensitivity to them, but it takes multiple Sisters and Brothers to be able to summon ghosts into views.

Keep the "Mother" kittypet origin story.

But how do they function? Well, the Sisters seem to operate a fairly small group, it doesn't really make sense to me for them to need a centralized structure. So, going for a decentralized system in the Sisters, power is distributed across the group and there is an emphasis on teamwork and decision making on all parts.

Choosing representatives for when meeting new groups tends to fall on reputation, charisma, and experience. Moonlight was chosen for these reasons, but she does not control the entirety of the group, though cats will lean on her words when she gives advice. She doesn't have legitimate power like a Clan leader, she relies on social influence and respect. Her word isn't law, but she does carry some weight due to her experience.

The Sisters have a fairly strong gender binary: Brothers, Sisters, Mothers, Fathers. You can be one or the other, they'll try to work around those who feel they don't fit for either role....but it doesn't always work out. I lean towards this not being decided by agab, you can shift from Brother to Sister and vice versa, it's those cats that don't exist in that binary who may feel out of place (but this is a wip idea and I want to tweak it more before i commit. i know for sure that Bean is one of those cats who doesn't want to fit this binary and is why she left to take up a "Brother" role despite not seeing herself as a Brother. I don't want them to treat them poorly, though it can happen, but that there's a lot of...reluctance to try and expand their ideas for these cats).

Toms don't get kicked out as babies. It's dumb, sorry everyone who likes that. There's no real logic to it besides a very half-assed attempt at trying to expand on the Sisters beliefs and even then, a kid with no training would get the shit kicked out of him by the wilderness lol

So, Brothers are socialized and trained on how to survive on their own. They're given information on medical herbs, hunting and gathering skills, best material to build dens and where to find a makeshift one in case of an emergency. Once again, this is not suddenly thrust upon them, they are socialized, this is something that they are believed to be as completely natural and an expectation for them.

When they are sufficiently deemed to be ready, the Brother is sent out to find a territory. They just don't just wander around (because I mean...the Sisters fill that role. They're nomadic). This is where I am yoinking a bit from others (notably bonefall's take on them), these territories act as base camps for the Sisters during their travels when they need to restock on herb supplies, have an injured or pregnant member, young kits, etc. That's why it's so important to them to have as many wide varieties of camps across their travels, and it's why Tree and Moonlight have some tension upon their meeting.

Boy picked a bad territory in their opinion, but in his defense, he didn't pick it for the Sisters. My base idea for these is Tree had a bad bad outing, but it needs work. I'll keep their strained relationship, but I'd like a little more depth to it just than the Erins beloved eeeeevvuuuulll mommmmyyyy (sooo scary!).

The Sisters believe they have a duty to help put spirits to rest, as well as help more malevolent ones find peace in the afterlife. They help with hauntings, lingering spirits, malicious spirits, etc.

They work in groups! The more malicious the spirit, the more Sisters it will take to pacify them and eventually release them from whatever is trapping them to the mortal plane.

Annnd so far that's what I've got! I have some more spirit lore over on my Bean blog, but this has been my working ideas for the Sisters themselves. Hope it helps :D

[olderthannetfic]

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/738837493190934529/httpsolderthannetfictumblrcompost73871242031#notes Oh it's definitely not. Otherwise I wouldn't be looking for a word for it. That's why I explained what I meant, because I kinda knew that author's voice would probably be wrong.

Interesting to find out more about it though. Heard it thrown around here and there, but was never sure what it actually refers to.

Though I wouldn't even say it's an OOC issue, because it happens in original works too, so technically it could be considered "in character." I have encountered it in both fics and original works, and an additional quirk of that writing is that the character/s will have mindsets that don't match the world they're in, or it will be so over the top that it comes across as an unwanted parody just by the tone of the story.

Weird meme speech, pop culture references, dialogue/monologues that sound like the author just copy-pasted from their twitter/facebook rants, and a lot of that superficial knowledge on topics/issues/problems that is key for all that mouth frothing.

There's also often this weird poorly blended mix between ideas they like and the world, that makes it even more obvious. Like if they write a story where they want to show a the backdrop to be this super oppressive world where everyone has base level education to not have an uprising. Our main lead though, for some reason is the one unique individual with all the knowledge of a modern internet user, and has seen right through everything, but the story never explains why. This is super popular with both further on the edge sides of the political spectrum, and it screams mouth piece to the max and a lack of reflection.

Why does this character know everything when the Government is apparently so effective that no one questions anything? Fuck you, I'm the author and I wanted to show how smart I am and how stupid everyone else is. Here's my facebook/twitter rant!

I know it technically is bad writing, but it's such a specific type of bad writing, and it happens so frequently I would love a simple name for it.

--

Interesting to find out more about it though. Heard it thrown around here and there, but was never sure what it actually refers to.

Re "voice", it's the set of things that make you go "Ah, this sounds like X wrote it", basically. The actual POV might be a specific character, in which case, X is trying to sound like that character, but they still have a particular way of writing that's a little different from other authors trying to write a similar character. It's even more obvious in nonfiction.

Like... on tumblr, I sound like me. Sure, some of it is my actual personality or views, but there's also just the manner in which I write. I could have the same personality but communicate it differently or more poorly. How often do I use big words? How often do I use slang? How many clauses are in my sentences? In my case, I do kind of sound like this out loud too, but that's never a guarantee either. A lot of it is about the writing craft the person has consciously cultivated over time.

I think subject matter can be relevant to voice, like authors who love to describe food in every work or something, but a lot of it has to do with whether the person is funny overall or what kind of sentence structure they tend to go for. It's a broad vibe thing.

(Certainly, horrid PSAs are part of some authors' voices, but you can use the term to describe any general "Sounds like so-and-so" vibe.)

Honestly, the thing where only the protagonist is ~So Special~ that they alone have twitter brain see through the evil government is one of the obnoxious traits readers often brand as a Mary Sue. That's certainly not the term for this whole phenomenon though.

[redistrictgirl]

2024 House Forecast Postmortem

My final House of Representatives forecast projected a median outcome of Republicans holding the chamber with 219 seats. They won 220 seats last month.

There was your warning sign for a red wave, I suppose.

It's also a sign that my House model is actually pretty damn good compared to the other equally-insufferable data nerds. I got the House composition dead-on in 2022 and only one seat off in 2024. (For reference, David's Models missed by a combined fourteen seats and FiveThirtyEight a combined eleven across both elections.)

Those two elections were very different - one was a midterm, the other a presidential year; one had deceptive circumstances, the other had deceptive polling; one saw pundits overestimate Republicans, the other saw pundits overestimate Democrats. It speaks to some genuine versatility with an admittedly small-ish sample size.

Also worth noting that, except for Carl Allen giving Democrats a 62% shot, everyone's probabilities were grouped fairly close together this cycle. A 55-45 vs. 45-55 difference can be meaningful but is hard to use for proving accuracy when reduced to a single binary winner. It's kind of cool (in a Pyrrhic way) that I was the only one to have Republicans as the favorite, but it doesn't mean as much as correlation statistics or seat counts at this level.

And clearly, something different happened with my Presidential forecast - I had the ultimate loser ahead for the entire cycle and wound up missing four states out of fifty. So where did the difference lie? I believe it was in my polling averages. It appears that I did not overestimate Democrats' share of the generic ballot, while I did overestimate Harris' share of the popular vote. I'll get more into those details in my other postmortems, but I suspect generic ballot polls tend to avoid pushing too many true undecideds in a way that presidential polling just doesn't. It may, then, be worth expanding my use of this polling average in my other forecasts.

But there's a lot of good signs for my general methodology here.

My r-scores saw a MASSIVE leap from 2022 - 0.86 for polling, 0.88 for fundamentals, and 0.89 for a combined score. Fundamentals outpacing polling was quite surprising, but a few district-level polls whiffed HARD this year, and with the overall low amount of data, it could have very well made the difference. That's why you include both in your model.

I had the wrong candidate in the lead for nine races, which is actually a little high compared to other forecasters, but I think is more than reasonable enough given that my model gave the average favorite about a 5-in-6 chance of winning their competitive House district - in a normal year, we'd expect about 20 whiffs by that metric!

Adjusting for undecideds was the biggest change I made to all of my models this year, and it definitely helped in the House, bumping up my polling average's r-score by 0.03.

Overall, I'm very happy with how my House model performed. Aside from a few possible minor tweaks, I don't plan to mess with it - not only am I happy with current performance, I don't want to risk the model getting pummeled in a cycle because I overtuned it for prior elections.

[vagueposting-femnb]

So I’m finally on vyvanse, and I saw a TikTok, so now I gotta yap excessively-

Autism, changelings, demons, & society.

So, I’m just gonna cover everything, for anyone who happens across this, who is curious, who might not be aware of certain parts of what I’m discussing!

First: Autistic individuals have, generally, been treated as some “other.” By that I mean, even those who are often “low support needs”/“high masking”

Note: typically the “high/low functioning” labels are seen as not only insulting but also inaccurate, while “support needs” is more preferred, although I have noticed some using it AS “functioning” without addressing the fact that your support needs can change DRAMATICALLY. One’s support needs can change based off a multitude of things- the tasks at hand, mood, sensory issues/needs that have or have not already been dealt with/met, the folks around you, the previous day or even just the previous activity.

Anyway- autistic folks have often been “othered” in the sense that even those that for the… hmm… most part “pass”? As allistic (not autistic) there are almost always small “tells” of sort. Think of it like… “vibes.” I’d like to think I’m at least half decent at reading folks, so it’s like… seeing someone in a group setting- they’re socializing, laughing at the “right times”, but… something, something tells you they’re… uncomfortable, or tired, or whatever.

Allistic people, seemingly subconsciously, pick up on those tells sometimes.

Changelings: waaaay back, typically in areas of Europe, there was the belief that faeries/fae/the fair folk, etc. had the ability to swap human children with fae in disguise. Iirc, the way this was sometimes “figured out” was if the baby seemed “distant” from the mother. Avoiding eye contact, less likely to laugh/giggle, slow to respond, and essentially not meeting “normal developmental milestones” at the right times.

These things are, today, some keys in diagnosing autism in infants and toddlers.

Some folks believed if you had a changeling then you had to treat them well to get your child back. Some thought you had to treat them badly. Some didn’t think much but hated the “changeling” for taking their baby. This could result in killing the infant/toddler.

Ofc not every autistic kid was assumed to be a changeling, sometimes they were just odd babies, who grew into odd kids. Sometimes they just became Arya, that odd girl who tends to the sheep at night and never wears shoes, and doesn’t really talk much. But she ain’t ever lost a sheep so who cares.

Demons: with the shift in beliefs from paganism to Christianity, believing in the fae was believed to be a more “pagan” thing essentially. The new “evil” became demons. Even today, particularly those with more deeply held religious beliefs, some still believe in demons as actual entities, capable of walking the earth, manipulating/impersonating/possessing people.

Essentially- demons today are what changelings were to old Europe.

Some things that could cause folks to believe someone is/possessed by/being manipulated by a demon: being generally “unsettling,” not adhering to social norms (everything from being the “right” sexuality, presenting yourself “correctly” either in terms of gender or within certain settings, or saying things that most don’t believe are meant to be said so casually or whatever), having “dark”/“dead” eyes, not making eye contact, making too much eye contact, struggling w empathy or feelings in general, etc. (ofc along w the easy ones: being violent, being loudly anti-Christianity, provocative/sexual publicly in a multitude of ways, so on and so forth.)

All of that to say: a lot of “tells” for uber religious folk that someone is, simply put, “a demon” are basically the same markers for a changeling, which, again, are in the medical field, common signs that someone is autistic.

Society: in general, societies don’t celebrate differences. If you aren’t successful at a 9-5 type job, or in the medical field or in some law/government related (and respected) job (so like… if sanitation is tied to the government, that typically does not count. But being a cop does count.)

Yet, folks fail to realize that humans would not be where we are today (for better or for worse) without folks outside of the norm. If everyone was content to stay close to where they were born, it would have taken much longer for us to expand across the globe. If everyone was content with constant travel for keeping up with herds for hunting, it would have taken much longer for us to get to the point where we HAD to settle down and start farming. If everyone was content w largely only functioning by daylight & fire, we wouldn’t have half of the technological advances that we do have.

If everyone functioned on a dayshift living schedule today, chances are your local grocery & retail stores would be nowhere near as well stocked as they are, or at the very least would be much harder to navigate with all the employees trying to put all the freight out during the day. No late night fast food if you accidentally took a nap due to a headache & forgot to go grocery shopping, you’ll just have to go hungry tonight.

Teachers? If everyone wanted a well-paying job that was respected, damn near no one would become a teacher. Sure education in the US ain’t great, but imagine if pretty much everyone either had to homeschool their kids or send them to HORRIFICALLY over crowded & underfunded schools? Chances are less teachers would be there out of the goodness of their hearts too, and more would be there due to the fact that it’s a position of power over vulnerable people.

Who tf would be making paintings? Music? Sculptures and statues? Pottery? Who’s growing beautiful flowers for bouquets? Sure some, not nearly as many probably, and lord the prices would be CRAZY!

Sorry I kinda rambled a bit there- basically, we wouldn’t be where we are without differences. Humans coming in a variety of colors, builds, who have differing perspectives, skills, etc are what led us to where we are. Celebrating those differences, even if society at large can’t find someone “useful” is necessary, bc sometimes the most useful thing about someone is that they’re there. They’re loved. They’re valued by the people in their lives.

[justagalwhowrites]

chiming in to say that the “most people here are in their 20’s” thing is not at all factual / has a lot to do with the fact that a large number of the people in *this* fandom that are in their 20’s do almost everything in their power to pretend that the people over the age of 30 do not exist and are not the ones posting art and fic for Pedro characters. Just because it’s not your experience doesn’t mean that it isn’t happening — there are plenty of talented creators that get overlooked because they aren’t creating content to cater to the younger portion of the fandom, meaning that it doesn’t get shared or recced by the ~trendy blogs.

Hi there!

I should say, I don't doubt that this happens with stories by older creators - it does, myself included! I just haven't seen some of the notes the OP was talking about (which certainly doesn't mean they don't exist, just that I haven't come across them for whatever reason.) While I think I have some "popular" stories, I'm pretty sure I've only ever cracked 1k notes once and I'm sure if I wrote different content - including writing younger readers - that would change. I just am not interested in creating those stories but that means a lot of people aren't interested in reading what I created. That's fine! I'm writing because I love these characters and I might as well share if I'm writing it, anyway. I have generally thought, though, that's just a reflection of the general age of the fandom which, as I said, in my experience, skews younger. That doesn't mean it's ALL younger people by any means, just that I tend to see more 20-somethings than anything else here.