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trashmouth-richie · 11 months

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ᴴᴱᴬᵀᴱᴰ

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE DOSED

HEATED

≛ modern!eddie x female reader x modern! steve

≛ summary: a week after being stranded on the side of the road with eddie and steve, you finally figure out what you’re going to do. Can the boys agree to what you have planned?

≛ THIS CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE FIC

≛ chapter warnings: MODERN AU, 18+ only I can’t be anymore clear about that, fuckgirl! reader vibes, Steve’s kind of a dickhead, oral m & f receiving and giving, mentions of birth control, reader gets eaten out by a girl, drug use, mention of alcohol, modern themes including texting, snapchat, iced coffee, crumbl cookie lmao etc, no y/n used, readers nickname is taff or taffy (bruh I hate using y/n catch me using any dumb nickname) Eddie picks reader up in a hug, real simpy Eddie behavior.

“I just don’t know Robin,” you explain, pulling literally at your hair from the root, “what should I do?”

Ever since that day in the back of Wayne’s truck, you hadn’t had a single night of peace. Both Eddie and Steve were blowing up your phone. Begging for your attention. It was flattering at first. Two of Hawkins hottest at your beck and call. Each vying for your undivided, not knowing that they were competing for it.

“Quit squirming,” Robin says in a huff between your legs, her mouth blossomed red and slick with spit, “I’ve been down here for thirty minutes and you aren’t any closer to coming than when I started.”

Her apartment was hot and sticky, the oscillating fan on its last leg, and you were both stripped down to nothing to keep cool on your planned girls day in. A day to forget about the boys stressing you out and for Robin to get away from her annoying ex. And just like how it usually happened with her, you ended up snorting lines and making eachother buzz with orgasms.

“Ugh, sorry,” you say annoyed, leaning up on your elbows to see her pretty face, “I just can’t relax.”

“Tell me about it,” she says around your puffy clit, the tip of her tongue flicking it like a snake.

You had made the boys swear to secrecy that they wouldn’t tell a soul about what had happened. But you didn’t promise anything.

And the moment you had gotten home, you sent a text to Robin explaining every single detail, down to girth and length.

“I think, you should date them both, try em out, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, now please shut up, you’re taking forever and I’m bored.”

The next morning you woke with a smile on your lips. Any turmoil left in your mind on your decision had gone with Robin’s idea.

The alarm clock on your bedside table illuminated 9:15AM and before even slipping your toes into some slippers, you sent two text messages to two recipients.

The normal routine of your morning commenced without fail, washing your face, scrubbing your body in the shower, putting on light makeup before making a pot of coffee.

Eddie arrived first, his motorcycle echoed loud off the parking lot as he backed it into a spot against the sidewalk. His dark curls were honeyed by the sun, a bag of Chinese takeout in one arm and a dozen roses in another. The prettiest dimples displayed on his stupid gorgeous face.

“Hey beautiful,” he smirked, wrapping you in a hug and kissing your cheek. He smelled like muted cigarettes and bourbon cologne. The creak of his leather jacket echoed in your ears as he lifted you off the ground into a bone crushing hug, making you squeal.

“Sleep well?”

Before you could answer his smile had faded into a scowl when the door swung open and Steve stood at the threshold. Wielding a pink box of gourmet cookies and two iced coffees, his wire framed Ray Bans pushed into his hair.

“Munson,” he greeted, nodding to his friend in that jock head jerk. Stepping around him, Steve sets the coffees on the counter and gathers you into a hug, kissing your neck and whispering that he had missed you.

His golden retriever vibe of tanned skin and forest colored eyes bore through you when he licked his lips.

You pull away and smile at them. They both look so good but in completely different ways.

Eddie’s tattoos were peeking out from under the tight white shirt he was wearing, as was a silver chain necklace.

You were practically drooling to get your lips on his skin again.

Steve was in light colored shorts and a casual button up, exposing the dusting of chest hair that your fingers ached to be wrapped in. If you had your way you’d take them both right here right now but that’s not what today was about.

“Why are we both here, baby?” Eddie asks, setting the bouquet and the Chinese food on the counter, pushing away the pink box of treats from his competitor.

“It’s obvious.” Steve says with a smirk pulling on his lips, “she’s gonna let you down easy and go out with me.”

“Always so cocky,” you tsk, trying not to look at the way his shorts are cinched at the zipper.

You look between them, big doe whiskey colored eyes stare at you in longing, while the mossy floor ones squinted with a smirk.

“We need to talk, and rather me having this conversation twice- I figured we are grown ass adults and can talk about what happened.”

Eddie nods and crosses his arms, leaning forward to not miss anything you were about to say. Meanwhile Steve leaned a hip into the wall, checking his phone.

“Before I stroke your egos, you both know you’re hot, so I’m not going to tell you how fucking great that day was.”

“fuck yeah it was,” Steve chimed in, adjusting his length in his shorts.

Eddie blushed a pretty salmon and shot you a wink.

“But— I’m not choosing between the two of you, I can’t, ask Robin, I about gave her a brain aneurysm yesterday trying to figure it out.”

You were the one on the verge of an aneurysm when you came allover her lips but that’s another story.

“So, we’re gonna do this with no strings, no feelings, just friends hooking up and playing around. Cool?”

Eddie’s eyes fall to the tops of his boots.

“So let me get this straight,” Steve gaped, eyebrows pulled in, “you’re going to go out with the two of us... at the same time?”

“Yeah, kinda what you do with every hussy in town Harrington.”

Steve’s gears are grinding but Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“What the fuck Taff?” Steve huffs in annoyance.

you banter back talking to him like he’s a child, “what’s the matter Harrington, don’t like sharing?”

“Rich boys are used to having their way.” Eddie gloats.

“Oh fuck off,” he pours, “what about sex? Or is this like a PG thing, eating pizza at Chucke fuckin’ Cheese?”

You cross your arms, and lick your lips, “oh we’ll be fucking, but not until you’re clean, both of you.”

Eddie’s eyes finally perk up, he hasn’t been with anyone since last year and he was checked three months ago.

“Oh come on!” Steve whines, “MaKenna is a virgin, and Blair and Nicole have only blown Tommy since being with me— no need to fuck anyone else catch my drift?”

“Sorry Harrington, I’m not risking catching anything and giving it to Eddie because you fundipped your way across campus. Show me you’re clean and it’s game on.”

He pouts, “Jesus Christ… I’ll even wear a condom, c’mon.. I swear I’m clean.”

“What the fuck is this 1990? I have an IUD, just get clean and we can do whatever you want.”

Eddie feels like he has the upper hand for the first time since arriving at your apartment, “W-when does this start, sweetheart?”

“Right now,” you shrug, “ I know you had to take off work today so I’m yours, see ya tomorrow Stevie.”

“Such bullshit.”

“Don’t worry buddy, I’ll take care of her while you’re off swabbing your pee hole,” Eddie says with a wave to his friend, cockiness in his stance.

“Be nice, boys.”

You don’t expect what happens next but Steve grabbed your wrist and twisted you into him, kissing you square on the mouth just as firm as he did in the bed of Wayne’s truck. Rough and giving no grace he leaves you spinning even after he’s left.

“Text me if you get bored with this one,” he says, licking his bottom lip to get one more taste of you as he walks through the door, “bye.”

You cross the kitchen to the counter, lips still buzzing from Steve’s kiss. You pull out two forks from the proper drawer and rip some paper towels from the roll.

Pulling out the white cardboard containers of Chinese food from the plastic sack, you plate them with shaky fingers. The fork in your hand slipping every once in a while and clanging loudly into the ceramic plate.

“Hungry?” you ask over your shoulder.

“Starving actually,” Eddie says, “but there’s something I wanna do first.”

You tear open a foil packet of soy sauce between your teeth and squeeze it all over the fried rice, “yeah, and what’s that?”

Not noticing how close he was to you, his hands rest hotly on either of your hips, fingernails grazing the cotton of your shorts.

In a quick spin, you’re suddenly facing him, fork in one hand, soy sauce packet in the other. His eyes are impossibly dark, and a twist of a smirk lays on his pretty lips.

“I wanna kiss you.”

His lips ghost over yours and your tongue reaches for his lips but is met by nothing.

His breath fans across your lips, the sweetest of pouts escapes you, and his adam's apple bobs in his throat, swallowing your annoyance, “not here.”

His fingers tease the waistband of your shorts, cold steel of his rings icing into your skin, dipping into it with a tentative touch.

The zipper of his leather jacket bites into your palms as you pull him closer into you, and just like that day on the side of the road, it felt easy with Eddie.

You share the same bated breath as his fingers plunge deeper and push your underwear out of the way. Between your slick folds he teases at your clit with his middle finger, swallowing the pretty noise you emit.

“Wanna kiss you here,” he said with a thick fingered flick against your clit making you moan through your teeth but lips, “need to taste you, again.”

You moan his name and he helps you wiggle out of your shorts in a hurry. Feeling like you’re possessed at the sight of him dropping to his knees on the cold linoleum of your kitchen floor, like a sinner praying for mercy in a cathedral—you’re practically begging for his tongue where you need it most.

Two weeks ago you and Eddie were just friends, and now he’s pulling the prettiest noises from you that would make the angels sick with worry,

His lips kiss your thighs feverishly in his travels. Dark curls tickling against the spit from his sloppy mouth. Every sensation in your body was screaming, and you cursed out loud when he hooked your leg over his shoulder like a guitar strap.

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he pushed this tongue into your slick, flicking against the hood of your clit, “so fuckin pretty baby, been seeing her in my dream for a week.”

Nerves wrecked already you’re practically a puddle at his simping words, trying like hell to balance on one foot and carving your nails into the underside of the counter. But Eddie’s face could have held you up alone.

He’s buried in your pussy. The happiest of graves. Nose, mouth chin- gone. All you can see of him down the plain of your own body are his curls. But you can feel him everywhere.

Devil's tongue stuffed between your legs, thrashing and lapping up like a mad man starved. His groans vibrate around you and your legs quake. His fingers are pushed deep in the well of your velvet walls, another circling your ass and putting the tiniest bit of pressure there making you cry out.

His name falls from your lips like a chant, faster and faster until your orgasm peaks and blinds you, your body losing all control from his tongue, your knuckles go white when you grab his hair, holding him right where you need him.

“Fuck,” he groans, wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit once more before he adjusts your panties back into place. Your fingers ache from the grip you had on the counter and in his locks.

Kissing the delicate fabric around the apex of your thighs, he whispers softly, “I could do that everyday.”

He helps you step back into your shorts, that glorious tongue poking out in concentration, and he looks up at you with a shy smile, standing and holding your hands.

“With a tongue like that, I might let you.”

“Don’t tease me Taffy, I’m still hard.”

And now it was your turn to be needy. You pull the lapels of his leather jacket into you and you kiss his slick coated lips, he tastes like you and the salty soy sauce that was still on your lip.

Kissing Eddie was different than Steve, he painted your mouth the same way he lapped at your folds. If you never caught your breath— that would be fine with you. Your head spun around his web and you were tangled in it.

His hands wrap around your back and one holds your face. It was deeply passionate, and your heart was bursting, your lips move to his neck and you suck and bite a mark into him, and he whimpers when your kisses go small.

“This is gonna get cold Eddie,” you say against the column of his throat.

“Let it, I’ll buy more.”

You grin into his skin and he laughs when you tickle his sides, “c’mon,” you urge.

And Eddie gets in one last kiss before breaking away, pulling your lip down with his thumb, and you shudder at the way he looks at you as if you’re the only girl on the planet, “if you say so.”

The Chinese needed to be s microwaved but it was still good., The hunan pork was tender and juicy, and the lo mein noodles were to die for. You and Eddie sat side by side on the barstools and talked like you always had. He had a gig this weekend and when he asked if you were coming you said of course you were, a quirk to your brow.

“Alright,” he said, putting alot of effort and concentration into twirling a noodle with his fork, “just wasn’t sure.”

You leaned forward and kissed sauce from the corner of his mouth, and your core ached and pulsed at the sight of his boyish grin and blushing cheeks.

“Wouldn’t miss it, even if it is Steve’s night.”

He accepted a bite from your fork of fried rice, and almost melted when you held pinched fingers up to his mouth of a ripped piece of crab rangoon.

“We’re still cool, right?” he asks after crushing the bite between his teeth, his eyes watching you put your fingers in your mouth and nodding.

“So c-can I ask you something as a friend?”

His brows are pinched in a furrow and you know he’s uneasy about something.

You slurp a noodle into your mouth and talk with a mouthful, a hand in front of your face, “spit it out, Munson.”

His fork clanks on the plate as he sets it down and gives the plate away. He runs a hand through his hair, and leans on his elbows and picks at his rings.

“So, why— I mean, why the both of us. You and Harrington can’t even stand each other.”

He was right, before last week you and Steve could barely be in the same room together, and now you were agreeing to fuck with no strings attached.

“It’s physical with Steve, like pure animalistic instinct. There’s no thoughts, and I think us hating each other just makes it that much better.”

Eddie’s weight shifts on the stool and his eyes never leave his rings, spinning them in a nervous habit.

“So you don’t like him like that?”

And the truth of his question falls through but you refuse to answer it, you have your own questions to ask, you toss the paper napkin onto your plate and mimic his actions, pushing it ahead on the counter.

“Eddie.. are you jealous?”

You leaned into him, the pads of your fingers daintily walking up his thigh, your eyes blink slow in a lazy seduction and fuck he’s practically putty in your hands.

He licks his lips feverishly, suddenly hot around the collar and his heart hammered a rhythm loud enough to make a tune out of it.

“N-no,” pppft he stammers, “I’m not jealous,” he tries his best not to catch your eye but once he does those hersheys bars give him away and a bubble gum blush tickles his cheeks. He clears his throat with an ahem, and raps his knuckles on the counter.

You stand and wiggle between his legs, pressing one hand further into his crotch and the other on his chest, toying with his necklace, your finger skating the pick left and right the chain making a zippered like noise.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

Eddie is floored, wilting like a flower— all the oxygen and water ran out from the √≈petals. His mouth was almost glued shut, it’s so dry, Sahara would be jealous.

Your lips pucker behind his ear and the filth you’re whispering to him sends shivers down his spine. It’s lust licked and heavy, want me to touch you, or do you wanna touch me?

He answers with a dry groan and a swallow, and his hands find your hips spinning you around,his lips ghost over your neck and you throw your head back into him, pushing your ass into him to feel the swell of his bulge in his jeans.

He’s rutting into your doughy ass, his fat cock loving the friction you’re bouncing against him, you move your hips and grind further into him.

“Fuck baby,” he moans hot against the shell of your ear, catching in his throat.

His hands creep under the hem of your shirt and skate against your skin, the smooth of his nails electrifying each touch. They work along your curves, his big thick hands touching every inch of your skin, rubbing along the lacy edge of your maroon bralette.

The pads of his thumbs graze against your peaked nipples and you exhale. You're surrounded by the sharp spice of his cologne, the muted cigarettes clinging to his jacket, it encompassed you, held you like a hug and had your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

It felt too good. His lips hummed against your neck, vibrating hot and sending goosebumps along your skin, and you wanted more. Needed more.

You followed his hands, tracing the veins on the tops of them with your fingers, pushing your palm flat against them, making him squeeze at your tits, and you purred out his name, a shade away from whining.

Fuck you wanted him so bad. And judging by the firmness of his cock beneath your asscheeks, he wanted you just as badly.

You spun quickly, grabbing his hands and leading him to the couch, his lips were red from sucking on your neck, bangs were pushed up awkwardly from the position his head was buried into your shoulder. He looked drunk, enamored with something you didn’t recognize.

The leather of his belt was heavy in your fingers as you unraveled it through the buckle and the first loop on his jeans. His eyes never left yours as your fingers flipped the button and pushed his jeans down his hips.

He shuddered a breath when your hand cupped him in his boxers, the velvet of his skin soft and warm in your soft grip. He was bigger than you remembered, thick like a stout of beer.

“Christ Taff,” he breathed when you stroked him fully, the pad of your finger running over the vein that ran along his cock.

You looked at him through your lashes as you lowered yourself to the ground, dragging his jeans and boxers with you, “this what you wanted big boy? Wanted me on my knees for you?”

He hums and holds your chin, brushing his thumb across your lips.

Licking the tip of his thumb, you hold his heavy cock in your hands, stroking his shaft slow then fast, “you’re so big, Eddie.”

He swallows his next words when your tongue circles his head, collecting the precum with each devilish swipe. You stick out your tongue to show him the pearl in your mouth, and he almost combusts when you swallow it with a hum.

“Yummy.”

He’s certain he’s going to die right here in your living room, looking at you with your pink tongue swirling around his cock, the way your lips suction around him, fuck, you haven’t even put him fully in your mouth yet and he’s a goddamn mess.

The teasing is too much but he’ll take whatever you give him, if you were to stop now he’d be completely satisfied, he’d have to pump his cock furiously when he got home to make the ache go away but, he’d do it.

But you don’t stop, fuck no. You’re just getting started. You like him like this, flushed in his cheeks and waiting patiently for your mouth. His mouth opening as yours does. Waiting, pleading, hoping that you would finally let your wet warmth surround him.

And then you do.

He stretched your mouth cheek to cheek, a literal mouthful. And he hums. Is he thanking God? You hide your giggle, deciding to take him further into your throat as you hollow your cheeks and slide him deeper with the help of his canting hips.

You hum around him and it tickles him, but he’s so drunk on your mouth he’s muttering sentences that don’t even make sense.

Pumping your hands along his shaft you dribble spit from your throat to the head of his dick, a slimy string connecting you mouth, one that you slurp back up and take him in deeper. His knees are bent and he pulled his shirt under his chin, wanting to see you fully with his cock stuffed in your mouth, your pretty eyes are teary and he can feel you gag around him before he pulls out and you come back for more.

He’s not sure how long you’ve been at this, and he’s trying to keep his mind averted to anything other than your slippery throat and the cute way your eyes are looking up at him.

This was better than the way you sucked him off in the bed of Wayne’s truck. You were solely focused on him here. No other distractions, just you and him.

“Look so fucking pretty, baby,” he moaned, reaching down to hold your cheek, his thumb wipes away some of your smudged make up from your eye, “ do you know that?”

You nod with him in your throat, and he breathes more nonsense as he looks to the ceiling and runs his fingers through his hair, trying not to convulse, but he can’t take it any more, you're working his dick like you’re short on rent.

“Fuck, sweet girl, fuck,” Eddie whines, scrubbing his hands down his face, his stomach burning to give in to you, I— shit shit shit, ‘m gonna come.”

He works his hips away from you but you wrap your arms around the back of his knees, holding him with his dick still in your mouth, waiting like a kitten for milk.

He cums hard, biting through his bottom lip to keep himself from yelling out loud. You don’t stop bobbing your throat, swirling your tongue, around his length and puckering your lips around him.

With his load in your mouth you paint his cock with it, moving it around and around with your excess spit, a hurricane against your tornado tongue, you finally swallow, sucking in your cheeks once more, and cleaning Eddie off in one swoop. His cries fill the room and you finally release him with a pop.

“Jesus, fuck.” He exhales, sleepy eyed. His reddened swollen cock hanging between you both, “c’mere.”

He helps you to your feet, and you tuck him back into his boxers gently. He mutters an embarrassed thanks, you’re smiling up at him with a cocky little smirk. Completely ready for him to pull up his jeans, maybe get himself a beer from your fridge, but he doesn’t.

Eddie holds you to him, his forehead leaning on yours, big hands wrapped around the small of your back. His erratic breath plumed through his nose and his chest was beating fast. You’ve never seen him like this, “Eddie?”

He doesn’t let go, doesn’t say anything, he just moves back to press the lightest of kisses to the tip of your nose. “You, “ he finally says, licking his lips and rolling his eyes into the back of his head, finally focusing back on you, he pulls you closer, enough that his eyes are all you can see.

But whatever he was going to say is stuck in his throat, he never finishes what he was going to say. Just pulls you into him and holds you there, his lips on your neck, kissing you softly. It was a perfect day. You should have known it wouldn’t have been weird between you and Eddie, falling back into sync as best friends and laughing while snacking on m&m’s and smoking from his dab pen.

You end up falling asleep on your bed together, tired from exerting so much energy and bellies full of Chinese. Netflix asks, are you still watching YOU? on the tv on your dresser. Eddie’s tossing and turning wakes you and you grab your phone to check the time. 5 o’clock. Taking an almost four hour nap, but in reality it felt like four days straight.

But that's not the only surprising thing on your phone.

A litter of texts. From the same occupant. The other half of this agreement.

hope you enjoyed, seems like Steve isn’t too thrilled right?

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar

@tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @mopeymopeymouse @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @crybabyddl @zenathebeautiful @astela17 @taintedcigs @bettyfrommars @munsonsuccubus @munson-blurbs @hollandweather @serasvictoria @steviesgrl @sweetsweetjellybean @curiositydooropened @ashyyboyy @urlbitchin @sllooney @lame0o @ali-r3n @bangaveragewhitewine

#Steve x you #eddie x you smut #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #Steve x you x Eddie #Eddie x you x Steve #fuckgirl! reader

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kisses-from-crows · 11 months

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Random Campbell Bain Headcanons

(chapter 7 is currently a 5k word inconsistent mess but i can give you this so, ehhh? not sure if these make any sense but in my brain they make perfect sense)

-this mf LOVES halloween

-he will spend will weeks thinking up a bunch of overly complicated costumes

-he spends WAY too much money on halloween decorations (i want you to picture Campbell Bain with adult money….)

-he has gotten tangled in those cotton spiderweb things a million times

-he always gets really enthusiastic about carving pumpkins but doesn’t have the patience to do the super complicated designs. always manages to cut off bits he didn’t mean to cut off.

-has a tradition of smashing the pumpkins to bits in the first week of november. (he likes this part more than the carving)

-will literally beg to get his nails painted and then will IMMEDIATELY smudge them, everytime, without fail

-settles for coloring in his nails with sharpie

-scarily good at mario kart, like frighteningly good

-likes to watch the muppets when he has depressive episodes

-had an intense cowboy phase as a child, until he went to a petting zoo and discovered he’s deathly afraid of horses

-the type of person to go radio silent for weeks or spam you with 50 memes and 12 songs in a matter of an hour. (there is no in-between)

-will respond to an important text two days later with a link to song and nothing else

-has a MASSIVE sweet tooth

-and has absolutely ZERO self control with candy, will down an entire bag of marshmallows (he prefers the mini ones) in a single sitting.

-noticed that Eddie had started to sneakily take his candy so he started keeping secret stashes hidden in various places

-eddie will find a stash and throw it away, only to turn around and see Campbell munching on a king-sized snickers, just gloating

-is ace spec but constantly makes dirty jokes, partly for shock value partly because he finds it hilarious

-very touchy, doesn’t get the whole “personal space” thing

-insists that he loves scary movies and then will go to bed with all the lights on after

-finds a pair of shoes he likes and then wears them every single day until they fall apart, then refuses to throw them out

-his closet is full of converse held together by duct tape and a dream

-is the biggest baby about being sick. this mf will get a tummy ache and just start rolling on the ground whining about “this is the end, get my affairs in order, tell Eddie i love him”

-toes the line between being the dream/nightmare blunt rotation. he has the most entertaining monologues but he’s using the joint as a talking stick and accidentally ash’d in the water cups twice now

-not allowed to smoke anymore because it messed with his bipolar and he didn’t sleep for 4 days straight

-can’t cook for shit, regularly burns soup. is banned from using the oven after The Incident™️

-won’t explain to anyone what The Incident™️ is

-if you ask Eddie about it, he’ll just say “he knows what he did”

-rumor has it that it involved makeshift shrink-i-dinks

-visits Fergus’s grave at least once a month. sets up a blanket and just talks. tells him everything that happened since he came last. what the rest of the crew is up to

-always leaves some sort of bit or bauble for Fergus

-got very upset when they would go missing, until he realized the local crows were collecting them

-now he brings some food and an extra toy for the crows, they’re good friends now

-one of the crows always flies down and hangs out next to him, so Campbell is convinced it’s Fergus

okay that’s all i’ve got for now! (sorry had to make it just little sad at the end)

#campbell bain #campbell bain headcanons #taking over the asylum #this likely makes no sense #but who cares

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fuckingguide · 3 months

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need to vent about some stuff going on in my life. putting it under a read more otherwise I'll end up "do you love the colour of the sky"-ing everyone lol

I still don't know how things ended up this way. last year it looked like all these changes were going to bring great things and now I feel like I've made the worst mistake of my life and I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm continuously postponing the inevitable, and in two months I won't be able to do that anymore. I'm gonna have to face reality and accept that a relationship between me and this guy will never happen, except I have to see him every single day so I don't know how we will be able to handle that. I'm gonna have to ask him not to talk to me anymore, so I can get over him, but the idea of sitting in the same room as him every day as we ignore each other, knowing that we're still in love with each other, makes me want to cry, and I know it's the same for him.

so what then? I'm still dealing with a language barrier in this country and I don't have any friends besides my coworkers, the closest friend being the guy to whom I will have to stop talking if I ever want to get over him. and the thought of trying to go out and meet people and make friends while dealing with this heartbreak is exhausting, and that's not even taking into account my general introversion and low social battery.

so I will lose the only friend I have due to a self-imposed ban. but what other choice do I have? we tried the just-friends route and it doesn't work, we both still clearly have feelings for each other and keep toeing the line, and maybe he's okay with things staying like that forever, but I'm not. I'm lonely and I feel miserable. I feel good when I'm with him but even those moments are soured by the knowledge that we can't actually be together and we most likely never will be. and if that's the case, I need to forget about him somehow. how am I ever gonna find someone, or even just focus on meeting new people and making friends, if I'm hung up on a guy who will never be with me? unless he proves me wrong in the next two months and decides to be with me after all, but I doubt that.

and on the one hand I think of that borrowing grief from the future post and think I shouldn't cry now over what will happen in two months when he gives me a no as his final answer, but on the other hand I think, aren't I just fooling myself sitting here thinking that things are gonna be fine just like that? shouldn't I be trying to prepare myself for what will most likely happen?

but then again how do I do that? what do I do? and how the fuck will I survive the heartbreak and the loneliness? how will I get over him if I see him every day, how will I survive having to ignore him the whole day? the only other option I see is moving back to the country I was in before, but even then I won't be immediately healed. I'll still feel like shit for a long time. and it would mean admitting defeat, having to tell everyone that I just couldn't hack it in a new country and I'm giving up, and giving up this opportunity to settle in a better country than I was in before (although I'm lucky enough that the previous country is still a good enough country with a decent economy (for 2024 standards)). but at least I would never see him again and I would be guaranteed to get over him eventually. and I'd have my friends back, my social life back if I move to the same area I was in, and not have a language barrier anymore.

but then I think of that other post that's like "I want it back = I drag its dead weight forward" and wonder. am I just kidding myself, thinking I can go back? I don't know. I don't know what to do. things are bad now but the clock is ticking and soon they will be even worse. at least for now I still have a good relationship with him and we have fun at work. soon even that will be gone, and then I really don't know. everyone tells me I'm so brave for having moved here, but I don't feel brave. I feel like I'm living in fear of all the pain I went through these past months and all the pain I will feel in the foreseeable future, and I keep making choices that won't help me at all in the long run, just to avoid having to feel that pain again. I'm not brave at all. I'm so scared all the time.

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canmom · 11 months

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re the shit happening in palestine

nobody knows what will happen i guess, but like. what's most likely? my doomscrolling brain can produce possibilities from 'genocide to rival the worst of the 20th century' through 'syria-style proxy war' all the way up to 'first act of wwiii', and I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop of the start of the ground invasion that would presumably make the sickening carnage of the last couple weeks look like nothing. meanwhile the countries around Israel are flinging a handful of rockets at US and Israeli military bases.

so like Israel's got to know that if it sends its whole army into Gaza, then Hezbollah etc. will attack and things will get much worse for them, so at some point they have to back down right? they're already having to play desperate PR damage control after they blew up that hospital, and even the U.S. is starting to say out of the corner of its mouth 'hey that's a bit much there buddy, go easy on the civilian slaughter'. on the other hand Israel seems to be pushing even fashier to enforce a pro-war sentiment internally - locking up any Arab citizen who says something anti-war, banning news orgs like Al Jazeera who don't toe the line, etc. like is it just going to fall back to the status quo plus several thousand bodies, or are we too far from that equilibrium at this point?

and as for Hamas and its allies - obviously they would have known that if they carried out a massive, bloody attack on Israel, the Israelis would go completely berserk and launch an even larger reprisal on the population of Gaza. ergo, they had to have believed that whatever they would achieve through such an attack might be 'worth that price', and have some sense of how things might go next - and they're still fighting, shooting rockets etc., but what's their current objective, just to survive as an organisation until other countries get pulled in against Israel?

really what i want to have some reason to believe is that there might be any remotely plausible way this can still work out to a 'better' state of affairs (no ethnic cleansing, no megadeaths - but also no more ghettoes, and somehow, end-of-apartheid-style negotiations to abolish the current Israeli state so that Palestinians can return home with equal legal rights etc.).

i see people talking like here is how the Palestinians will still win, that this is the first act in the overthrowing of Israel, even defining various neighbouring Islamic states as 'the resistance', because you need a team to cheer for I guess, enemy-of-my-enemy logic. but what seems more likely to come from that kind of escalation would just be a massive war which, if recent wars are anything to go by, will kill a lot of people and push every state/group involved to greater levels of internal repression, but eventually peter out without any sort of clear outcome. so... is Israel somehow much more fragile than it used to be? is there reason to think the US would cut it off?

anyway. for some historical comparisons - the Haitian Revolution took a little over 12 years (1791-1804) between the initial slave revolt and establishing an independent country (which promptly got squashed with debt and trade sanctions by the bitter European powers). in South Africa, the ANC turned to insurgency in the wake of the Sharpeville Massacre of 1960, and about 31 years later negotiations began for the end of apartheid (during the collapse of the USSR, which shifted the priorities of the US etc. who had been backing the apartheid gov). the Algerian War of Independence lasted about seven years (1954-1962). if this anti-colonial war is going to follow a similar trajectory... well, it depends when you start counting I guess, but probably it would take a decade or more to approach any sort of 'resolution' you could name.

the status quo obviously couldn't last indefinitely, you can't just keep a population in a massive prison and gradually bleed them out and not expect them to fight back, but in terms of ways this could fall down, there are some obviously very bad outcomes (nakba 2, surviving palestinians in Gaza exiled to e.g. egypt) that could establish a new equilibrium (apartheid state annexes the whole region after sufficiently depopulating it to establish a majority). that's not implausible, it's basically what happened in the U.S.A., Canada and Australia - the settler population now outnumbers the indigenous ones by orders of magnitude, and maintains a complicated legal regime to control the surviving population (reservations etc.). that's presumbly the outcome the present state of Israel 'wants' to achieve, gradually enough that it doesn't look too bad on TV. however, it's not there yet - in the combined territory of Israel and Palestine, there's presently roughly equal numbers of people defined by the census to be Jewish vs Palestinian.

conversely... the state of Israel's constantly broadcast fears about a combined 'one state solution' resulting in the Jewish population being treated the way the Israeli state currently treats the Palestinians (ethnic cleansing, massacres etc.), and the great-replacement birthrate bullshit, are surely completely overblown (notably the much smaller white population in South Africa was not banished at the end of apartheid), but what happens rather depends exactly how the state of Israel might collapse and who would hold power afterwards. and... in South Africa, the apartheid government in the last few apartheid years started to realise it had lost the game, and was making some paltry concessions - which the Israeli gov. is not doing at all, seeming to prefer to rush headlong into an 'us or them' war of annihilation, confident the U.S. will let it do whatever reckless shit it wants?

all in all it's a horrifying mess and I find it hard to feel any sort of hope that it won't just get worse in one of a dozen different ways. would love to be convinced otherwise. i always assume things will go in the bleakest way possible, which is not a very reliable mindset.

#amateur geopolitics analysis hour

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familiar-wandering-fey · 1 year

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baked po-tay-toes

one of the god-tier foods on the planet; fluffy, customizable, fairly easy/low-effort but can be given fancier jackets and warm and comforting.

I think that describes my core pretty well. A human-sized hobbit. I like sci-fi and fantasy of most types. I use my potato powers to play games of all kinds but I do have many favorite franchises and then just a lot of random things I’ve tried with friends (my avatar is a screencap from the Crusader Kings III loading screen that makes me laugh the most, the aesthetic is very, “I’ve had enough of your shit Eustace, come and say that to my face”). Keep reading for the deep dive, no promises on rambling.

Call me Ashlynn, or Ash, I call myself Ash a lot. She/her/they, a millenial verging on that elder line, bi-pan romantic, agender femme comfortable (femme euphoria is *chef’s kiss*), demisexual riding my starship through the internet voids. 99.99% autist (self-dx, always trying to keep learning to make sure the brain gremlins stay somewhat contained *lolsob*at the even more likely audhd combo and the constant brainfight between Order and ~*chaos*~). Is that why we all love to hyperfocus on mythology? The eternal struggle between divine order and chaos?

Even now I’m reigning in the urge to get side-tracked when this was supposed to be straight-forward, a little fun ‘hello’ and now I want to write ten-thousand essays all at once. It’s why I tend to lurk (bringing it back). I’ve been on Tumblr a long-time and quit during the great banning of tiddies protest in whatever 20-year that was. I wasn’t super involved anyway. This was once a blog where I role-played as Marius from AR’s Vampire Chronicle’s. That used to be a huge pass-time of mine actually, text-based RPG’s on forums (anyone remember Avidgamers/Acornrack? That’s like the real deep cuts of forum-based rpg-ing and it was so cute and customizable in an early internet Myspace sort of way. I would say it’s collapse definitely taught me some deep lessons about retaining data/copies because it was literally there one day and gone the next with zero warning and just so many beautiful things and connections lost to the void). I really sympathize with (some) Twitter users and (most) Reddit users that either have already had that happen or are precariously on the verge of having that happen. Here’s hoping that Tumblr isn’t on the verge of tripping right when I was getting back to it.

I decided just to private the RPG posts, there aren’t that many it wasn’t really my main Tumblr blog at the time of the great logging out. The trend of Tumblr RPing was fun though, I don’t know if that’s still a thing people do actively or seek out but I guess I’ll find out. I think that’s enough to start, see ya’ out there.

#baked potatoes #musings of the fey wyld

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

That's It Then

Word Count: ~670 Warnings: None? Author's Note: This... fits into Frizzy 'verse. It is reader insert between Will and his former fiancé after the events at the grocery store. I'm trying to clock writing Will a lot better, build my Will confidence. I've also been in a shitty mood all day and this is what my stupid brain came up with. Anyway... enjoy. Or don't. I can't tell you what to do. I think I'm going to start trying to write for Will within this verse too tho. Or just looking at his background and how he's just kinda... more in the background? IDK. Anyway...

There's a madness in you, Will Miller.

It was always a joke, the way he could shut down and switch. The ripples beneath his skin whispering rage through his veins.

He doesn’t like to be called a beast in the gym. Not a machine, not a robot. Nothing that takes away from the very real flesh and blood—both his own and that of others’ on his hands.

“I've killed forty-two people,” he says, “why did I do that?”

He lifts you then with gentle arms around your waist, pulling you up on your tip toes as he crushes himself down into the crook of your neck and breaks.

He snaps in moments here and there; when everything just gets to be too much.

Too quiet and he can’t be with his thoughts, too loud and he can’t hear them.

Too dark, too bright.

It’s too hot or it’s too cold and the tag in the back of his shirt makes his hearing zero in on the dog barking down the street and he just snaps.

It was always a joke and then it happened and it kept happening.

“It never stopped,” he whispers the words against your skin, “and now I don’t know when I cross that line.”

There was no consideration in the grocery store when he snapped back, just politely being asked to leave after the police had taken his details while cell phones hadn’t gone away the entire time he panicked.

“How do you feel now though?” Your fingers flex through his hair, “should I call your therapist? Fish?”

“No,” he somehow squeezes you tighter, “are you okay?”

“I don’t give a fuck about me.”

“I keep putting you in these situations,” he finally lets go and steps back, his eyes going hard again, “I don’t mean to keep doing this to you.”

“This is hardly a conversation for the cold, Will,” you tell him, “let’s just go home and—“

“And I’ll pack,” he says, “go stay with my parents for a bit until we figure out what to do.”

You shake your head, “what do you mean?”

“Being banned from grocery stores isn’t how you should live your life, sweetheart,” his eyebrows notch together as he crosses his arm, “we need to have a serious conversation about our future together.”

“You said the same thing last month and then you put a ring on my finger, Will Miller,” you mirror his stance, “do you think I’m blind and just don’t see what you go through? I actively choose you, every single day.”

“I'm not completely right in the head anymore,” his head shakes, “there’s a reason I have to send my sister out to grocery shop for me, why Frankie goes with me everywhere. I can’t ruin your life too.”

“Will,” you stop, “are you breaking up with me outside of Kroger on a Tuesday afternoon?”

“It’ll hurt less than me letting you plan a whole wedding only to walk away then,” he tells you, “or worse, get you down the aisle, put a baby or two in you and then drag you all through a messy divorce and a lifetime tethered to my own personal hell.”

“Please stop doing this.”

He cradles your face, pressing his lips to your forehead, “I love you,” he says, “that's why I’m doing this.”

“And tomorrow?” You ask, “hell, five minutes from now? What will you do then? Change your mind again? Have Benny or Frankie back you up that you won’t do this again?”

“Baby—“

“No, I don’t want to keep going through this so you’re right, we do need to have a serious conversation about our future because it’s the last one.”

He nods his head again, “like I said, I’ll pack some stuff and stay with my parents for a few days so you can get all your stuff.”

“So that’s it then?”

“Yeah,” he pulls you into another hug, the same arms but a different version of him, “that's it then.”

#not tagging anybody #frizzy verse #william miller #will miller #will miller x reader #will miller x you #william ironhead miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #don't look at me #will miller fanfiction

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dragonseattofu · 3 years

Note

NekuShiki question time! #2 :)

Who said "I love you" first? When?

Do they ever go dancing? How does it go?

Who is more affectionate with the other?

First I love you

The person who I envision to say the first “I love you” in the post-NEO world would be Neku. Pre-NEO I would hands down have thought it would be Shiki, because out of the two I feel like Neku’s more of an awkward sort and wouldn’t know how to put romantic feelings into words. But after NEO I feel like Neku became a little better at conveying his feelings and here’s why:

He watched her exit the elevator. She was talking to someone holding a camera bag, possibly the photographer she had just hired a couple of days ago. He remembered their evening meal yesterday, one he had to pry her away from her work to partake in, relating to her upcoming photoshoot. He learned their usual photographer had double booked and she had to scramble to find a replacement. The replacement looked young, around their age, and seemed to be bowing a goodbye to her before walking towards the exit behind him.

Neku continued to watch her, as she pulled out her phone from her Mr. Mew purse. Shiki tapped furiously at the screen, with speed rivaling Nagi, and seconds later he felt a buzz in his pocket.

After tucking her phone back away, Shiki moved toward the turnstiles situated near the door and finally saw him. It took her a second to overcome the surprise, he didn’t tell her that he was coming to pick her up, but she immediately brightened as she walked toward him at a steadfast pace.

How many days, months, years had he waited and hoped for to see a sight like this? To feel like this? Like his chest tightening in anticipation of her being in his arms, his cheeks warming at her smiling at him for simply … existing? How long had he spent thinking about the life he could have had with his friends, with her?

When Neku was dropped into the Shinjuku UG, he went into shock. Why? Why was he back when he was banned from ever playing the game again? He had just gotten his life back. He finally didn’t feel so alone in the vast seas of Shibuya.

But then he got shot … again.

His cynical side thought, maybe this was his retribution. He didn’t deserve friends, not after what he did to him…

But then he remembered them, and what they had all said to him.

“Let me in! Tell me what you're thinking!”

“Give up on yourself, and you give up on the world.”

“You're not my partner anymore man, you're... my friend. So trus' that yo!”

Come on, work with us. A problem shared is a problem halved!

And then he could have sworn he heard her…

“You finally came back to us … I knew you would.”

“I’m so happy you're back, Neku.”

He didn’t remember her saying that to him, but it wasn’t the first time he felt like he saw things that haven’t happened yet, things that could happen if he played his cards right. Visions of a future that gave him some … hope.

Every battle he fought, every new area he stumbled into, every floating thought he passed, all led to this hope that he would get back to his friends.

When he wasn’t fighting to survive, or when Coco was standing watch so he could rest, he thought about them. Was Beat skipping classes still? Was Rhyme learning how to do those ollies Beat was trying to teach her. Was Shiki … was Shiki hanging out with Eri right now? Was she fixing a stitch on Mr. Mew? Did she miss him, the same way he missed her?

His time in the RG after playing three weeks in the reapers game was short, but nothing less than wonderful. Shiki and Neku went on a couple outings together, just the two of them when the Bito siblings had family errands. It started out a little awkward, especially when familiar restaurant and store keepers thought they were an item already. A specific ramen owner was the worst of them all even though his teasing came from a place of fondness for the pair.

Without him realizing, being with Shiki was almost as natural as breathing, and every moment he spent with her was fun, interesting, precious to him.

Neku didn’t get the time he needed to work out how important Shiki was to him before being plunged into the Shinjuku UG, but three years of company to only the disembodied thoughts of lost souls and an occasional “fairy” reaper gave him the opportunity to delve into it. The conclusion he reached gave him the motivation to keep fighting, to keep surviving. For once, he had someone worth living for.

“Earth to Neku?” Shiki waved her hands in front of his face.

He blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Shiki stood on her toes, trying to look at his face underneath his overgrown bangs. He felt her touch his cheek, concern marring her adorable face.

He hates that he brought so much strain to her life. Maybe she could have been happier with someone else, someone who wouldn’t break their promise to go shopping the next day and abruptly disappear.

But then she smiled at him, having noticed that he simply zoned out. And all of a sudden his negativity stopped spiralling and he felt grounded again. He may not feel like he deserved her, but she chose him nonetheless.

She chose to never give up on him, that he would survive the ordeal he was thrust into. She chose to be the best version of herself that she could be while she waited for him.

And then even after all that time had passed, she still chose to be with him.

Neku didn’t know if there was a word that encompassed the overwhelming emotion he felt whenever he thought of Shiki. One certainly felt close enough though.

“Hey Shiki?” He asked, putting his larger hand over her smaller one that lingered on his cheek.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he said that to anyone, if he did at all. Even though Neku had told Shiki almost immediately after his arrival in the RG that he wanted to be more than friends, he hadn’t used that word before. Love was still such a foreign concept that he wasn’t sure he understood it completely, but if there was anyone in the whole world he could associate love with, it would be Shiki.

Shiki’s hand on his face stiffened at the sudden confession. For a hot second, maybe it wasn’t the time or place she expected him to say it. He felt a slight panic from the doubt of her not reciprocating his feelings.

But those thoughts were quickly thrown out when she leaned in and kissed him.

It was a kiss longer than they had ever shared before. She was physically telling him something, but he was a little preoccupied to fully process anything. Shiki pulled away, far quicker than Neku would have liked, carrying the sweetest grin he ever saw on her.

“I love you too, Neku.”

Dancing

Shiki would have this fancy company dinner that she’d have to go to for networking. As friendly as Shiki is, she’s still introverted and the whole event just sounds utterly exhausting. Neku would be her plus one, because even if that’s the last place he would rather be, he’s her partner, and that’s that. She gets well enough along with everyone, but she has to make the rounds and greet everybody, leaving Neku alone at times. Thankfully Eri’s also there, and the girls take turns between networking and keeping Neku company. He surprises both of them when the head designer for Jupes notices Neku’s deep purple button down shirt from Jupes under a Gatto Nero’s half grey plaid - half black solid blazer (it’s visually better in my head than what I just described), and wants to talk to the designer of the jacket. Neku goes full endorsing mode for his girlfriend, and smiles smug when the girls realize they didn’t need to worry about him, much less securing a major deal with a major brand for a collaboration. He’s pretty happy with himself when he hears a version of Someday play on the surround sound. The dance floor opens up, and a couple of people start a waltz.

Neku thinks to himself, it’s an odd thing to have a dance in the middle of a company dinner, but dinners in the fashion industry are often hosted by the most eccentric of people, and he supposes it’s not so peculiar after all.

The melody plays soft and slow, and if he’s honest with himself, it’s a pretty good rendition of one of his favorite songs. He sees Shiki from the corner of his eye, silently asking her to dance as he extends his hand out. She’s surprised at the gesture. Neku’s many things, but dancer’s not one of them. The exaggerated kicks he’s so fond of are sort of hard to move elegantly in. A simple slow dance, he thinks, is enough for him to handle. Her thin finger slipped effortlessly into his hand.

More affectionate

Post-NEO, I feel that both are pretty affectionate toward one another, but in different ways. Shiki’s more physically affectionate, she’s more of a hugger and is always holding his hand, or his clothes, just so she can feel that he’s there. He doesn’t initiate physical touch as often as she does, but he never let’s go, or moves away from it. This happens more naturally as they start dating, snuggles and such.

Neku’s more affectionate verbally. He’s gotten comfortable saying what’s on his mind more often. He’s not shy about complimenting her, she doesn’t need his reassurances but his opinion is important to her nonetheless. He’s a natural flirt; says things that would be considered suave without intention. He would say pick up lines without realizing that they were pick up lines.

Okay, so I’m like not really sure how best to put my thoughts together but here goes:

The Shibuya and Twister kiddos would all be at some fashion function, and the Fret and Beat would comment on how attractive some of the models are. Neku would just be like, “yeah, they are attractive, but they aren’t as beautiful as Shiki.” Him referring to how much he loves her appearance as well as her personality, whereas he knows nothing about these girls so all he is going on is their looks.

And of course Shiki, who has pins in her mouth and is trying to get her models ready, hears this. Her jaw loosens and the pins fall on the floor. She’s essentially flushed and flabbergasted, by what he said and how nonchalant he said it. He looks at her like he said nothing wrong. Then he just smiles at her, and she just stutters out curse words. She doesn’t have time for this.

Notes: I’m so sorry for the late reply. I’m such a slow thinker and writer! But thanks again for the ask! The first prompt sort of snowballed. Hope you like it! @doesitringabell, I added a collection on Ao3 dedicated to you for any/all other prompts that end up longer than I had anticipated. Check out the source content.

Also sorry for any typos and such, let me know if you spot any. If anyone is still interested in my rambling mess of Neshiki fanfics/ficlets, don’t hesitate to send me more asks! It might take a while, but just know that my moments of silence are just me tinkering with ideas (writing something, hating it, revising it, writing again, rinse, repeat, then screw this, just take it.)

#TWEWY #Neshiki #NekuShiki #the world ends with you #NekuShiki question time #ntwewy #neo twewy #twewy neo #the world end with you neo #neku sakuraba #shiki misaki #daisukenojo bito #rhyme bito #eri #coco atarashi #my post #mypost #myfanfiction #myfanfic

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bondsmagii · 3 years

Note

Hey read (some of) this blog post (long as hell), tries to pick it up where your old scp cult post left off: lackoflepers medium com/scp-is-not-a-cult-196e87ce6b11

(link)

this is insane. I've never written anything that's ever received a full response before, so that's exciting. what's even more exciting is that this piece does raise some really interesting questions, and is very well-written and thoughtful.

the strange thing is, I think we're both in agreement -- but I'm calling it a cult, and the author of this piece is calling it a "fledgling religion". I agree with this outlook, if I'm honest -- but at the same time I can't help but think that this has filled a hole in my cult theory, rather than poked a hole in it.

when I wrote the original cult post, the one thing I couldn't quite equate was the religion aspect. there was a lot of things to consider from that aspect, in terms of cults requiring a certain doctrine, rituals, etc, and while I was able to draw comparisons to the site culture and these things, it didn't quite fit. this article explains and illustrates exactly what all of these things are, and the sheer amount of similarities between the SCP wiki culture and religious fundamentalists. it's absolutely incredible, how it all still adds up.

however, some things are way off. I understand the author has a history with site and with staff, and they obviously understand that there's a complicated relationship between the two. the piece certainly tackles the question from an educated site-critical standpoint, but I can't help but notice some glaring omissions and in some places, assumptions which I feel are quite simply incorrect. under the cut we go, because this is long.

the author seems to be very ignorant of the site's cyclical patterns. one of their main arguments for the wiki's not being a cult is how people like Dr Gears and thedeadlymoose don't have more power over the masses, being such important figures. the problem with the wiki is that it is very cyclical, and big names of one era do not translate over to new eras. big names replace old ones, and the old ones either become fond grandparent figures (like Gears, who had the sense to take a step back before the tides changed against him) or they become irrelevant or reviled (like thedeadlymoose, or pixelatedharmony (Roget).) this means that if the former appeals to the group, they will get essentially a pat on the head and a gentle dismissal, or if the latter speak out they will be silenced, harassed, banned, etc. this is very cultlike behaviour -- if somebody goes against the grain, they become an immediate enemy of the people. the only way to survive fame on the wiki is to retire quietly, at your peak, and keep yourself to yourself.

going on from this, there are also different levels to how a staff member is seen. there have been eras of the site where the site admin might not be as impressive as one of the prolific writers, for example. who these days knows about The Administrator? it's all Dr Gears to them. different authors have different levels of unofficial authority, and the author of the piece doesn't seem to realise that it's a cult of personality as much as anything else. there are constant divisions among staff, even if they present a united front; frequently those not toeing the party line have been ostracised or purged, and this filters down to the average user. just because a person is on staff does not mean they immediately skyrocket to godhood, if we're using the religious metaphor. this is why it seems as though "staff" as a whole isn't uniformly worshipped -- they're not. there are complex currents of power at work here, and it's frustrating because at first glance it seems to invalidate the very real fact that a few site members have all the authority. the staff worship extends to staff members. those in lower tiers will act similarly to those in higher tiers as a new member would act towards all staff.

the author draws attention to thedeadlymoose's impressive efforts to bring the site forward from its 4chan beginnings and make it more inclusive to LGBT members -- something that has undoubtedly had an effect. however, the author does not mention that to date, the site's only successful splinter site (as in, a site that lasted more than a few weeks) is RPC, and while this website came about for multiple reasons, it's undeniable that one of these reasons was because of the fact that the wiki was openly supportive of LGBT people during Pride Month. it's also interesting to note that the author is also a member of the RPC site, so it's odd that this piece of the site's origins is not mentioned.

the acceptance of these pro-LGBT policies also seems to be less wide-spread than the author believes -- most people don't care, there does exist users who are homophobic or transphobic, and -- something I'm surprised wasn't mentioned at all in the piece -- when LGBT members of the site spoke up and said the new logo made them feel pandered to, and the resulting blowout made them feel targeted and unsafe, they were mass banned from the subreddit by a rogue moderator who, incensed by the fact his authority was so challenged, then ragequit and abused people on the threads for several hours. this is a typical staff response to discontent in the masses. so yes, thedeadlymoose did have some significant sway in the attitude changing somewhat, but it was not as widespread (nor as cared about) as the article's author seems to think.

now, I shall move on to specific quotations.

Furthermore, as a gaggle of creators, SCP should never feature the mass conformity of thought that defines a cult; theirs is an ecosystem that predicates itself upon creation, and obsessively on the new and original — that is to say, the different (but tempered).

while the author does elaborate on this idea of creativity and conformity, this is just wrong. again, I blame the author's ignorance in regards to the cyclical nature of the site -- which isn't the fault of the author, in my opinion. such cycles are slow, measuring out in years rather than months, which is insanely long for an internet community. in order to notice them, you would have to have been observing for some time -- which I have been. since I have been observing the site (which has been since its very creation -- I was on the 4chan thread in 2007 when 173 was created and I have seen the wiki from its infancy on EditThis over to wikidot) I have seen this happen countless times. a type of writing, be it style or genre, takes off. it could be LOLFoundation, grimdark, whatever -- it takes off, it runs the site for a year or so, and then it crashes and burns. when it takes off, there are rules for writing it that must be obeyed lest you be downvoted to oblivion. as the attitude turns against it, those who still write it are vilified and ostracised, and the new one takes over. there have been mass purges in the past, and there has always been, since the wiki's inception, conformity of thought. one of my oldest complaints about the wiki is that, for a site full of writers, they have no imagination and absolutely no desire to step out of the approved style.

To put it very broadly, things get accustomed to the status quo in a highly regulated environment, and get better at simply remaining and surviving in that.

this could be a decent rebuff to my previous point, but the fact is that while the SCP wiki harbours cultish behaviour, a vast majority of the users are casual readers who maybe write one or two articles. the stagnation is, at least partially, because of the fact that most users sign up, read some articles, think "cool, I have an idea for one!", write it -- and have it emulate the articles they've read, thus sounding similar in tone and content to the rest of the recent articles -- get a semi-decent response if lucky, and then move on after a few months or years.

the people who power the wiki, however -- who are prolific, who churn out insane amount of articles -- are suffering from what I outlined in my above point. a small percentage of the wiki dictates the direction it goes. it has always been like this -- and people who go against the grain that staff have employed, be it old user or new, will pay for it. this payment is often in downvotes, but occasionally comes in harassment, bans, or deletions, too.

Lastly a cult is really the most extreme version of a religion, it is a religion on steroids.

this is straight-up incorrect. cults began as religions gone hayware, yes, but the idea of a cult as a Jonestown-style compound in the middle of nowhere is outdated. cults are the most extreme version of an ideology -- be it religious, political, or otherwise. they are ideologies on steroids. thanks to the internet, they also no longer have to be in real life spaces. you can be in a social cult on Twitter or on Discord; you can be in a cult of ideology on an incel forum or in a social circle of TERF blogs. all of these things are cults. they have cult-like behaviour and thinking.

this is where the author proves my point beyond all doubt. the author says the following about the wiki's increasingly left-wing inclusive policies:

What was intended to be an executive extension in peace has, due to the force required to counteract the sheer hostility and persecution once leveled at this group at its peak, instead overshot its mark and has become a brutal bureaucratic sanctioning of political identity. (I can hear someone saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.)

the biggest shift in this cult-think, for me, was observed when the shift towards Terminally Online Woke Left attitudes began to be increasingly observed. I'm not talking about getting people to tone down the homophobia and whatnot. I'm talking about this culture of purity and suffering that the author outlines very well in the article; if you have read the article, I needn't go over it again. the wiki now holds a monopoly on suffering using the same kind of Oppression Olympics as other spaces devoted to purity culture -- and purity culture is a cult. this is straight-up fact at this point. it is my belief that staff identified the power available to them in a) targeting people from oppressed and vulnerable groups and giving them a so-called safe space and b) using their various oppressions to their advantage.

something that is prolific in purity culture circles is that somebody who is oppressed in any way cannot be held to blame for their actions. they cannot be a bad person. this is ideological armour, and staff wields it. they also use purity culture and apparently progressive ideology to shut down anyone who dissents, and to smear their name and have then ostracised as an enemy. why do they do this? liking the power and fame of their position is a big part of it, as the author outlined, but something major is missing.

throughout the entire article, the author does not once mention the detailed and extensive history of staff sexually abusing minors on the site.

this is well-documented by this point. staff has seen many predators in its ranks, including one of the most prolific site members of all time -- AdminBright, or The Duckman. staff has known about these staff members and has covered it up over years. I myself have heard testimony from countless victims, but whenever we raise enough of a stink, a staff member does an "internal investigation" and nothing comes of it. the fact that the cult-like behaviour of this website can be discussed without one of the cornerstones of cult activity -- using its members for financial or sexual gain -- is astounding to me.

to go on from this, there is also no mention of the SCP lawyer fund, which raised over $30,000 and then faced staff actively resisting transparency as to the case and the funds. financial manipulation is another major example of cult behaviour.

without acknowledging these two things, I do not think that a full argument against the idea of the SCP wiki as a cult can be possible.

the author raises a good point that illustrates both why staff acts the way it does, and why the users are so eager to imitate:

The answer is something that can turn someone into their nemesis; something that would make someone sell their soul for 1000 upvotes; that tragic commonality that binds all individuals who feel the need to write; the need to be received, but more, to be loved for it.

this is a big reason why staff clings to its power, and why people sell out their creativity, and why people emulate this behaviour, and why prolific authors burn out so fast. however, running through all of this at its core -- through the need to be received and loved -- is the power that comes with it. this is all about power.

to mention the specific example of LordStonefish, and his reaction when he found out that his interviewer was enemy of the people pixelatedharmony, now of "burning out, ragequitting the site, and going to talk shit on KiwiFarms" infamy:

[...] it was as if LSF was speaking to a leper, and that the ongoing participation in the salvation of public approval (not to mention site participation as well) was directly dependent upon LSF’s rebuke of pH as a demon who is only worthy of a terrible fate and, as we see in the screencaps, even death.

leaving my personal opinions on Harmony out of this, going from a perfectly civil interview to finding out that the interviewer was an enemy and not only dumping all of his private information to offset doxing, but also going into detail about some highly personal stuff for shock value... I don't think Harmony quite required that treatment. the fact is that, as the quote outlines above, the only way to ensure that he wouldn't be completely ostracised for fraternising with the enemy (KiwiFarms -- of which Harmony is apparently the ambassador) was to behave like a man shunning a sinner. Harmony has sinned -- she rejected the status quo, she defied the group and its authority, and LordStonefish, in order to remain safe from being tarred with the same brush -- has to react with suitable horror to her presence.

it should be noted here that while KiwiFarms has a reputation for being a hive of scum and villainy, its main reputation regarding the SCP Wiki has been for being the one place where complaints against the site are openly discussed, often by defected staff members such as pixelatedharmony and Cyantreuse, and perhaps most telling of all -- the place where a lot of accounts of sexual harassment and abuse have been filed. staff rails against it on the grounds of it being filled with people who use slurs and have questionable ideological beginnings (ironic, coming from a website which began on 4chan) -- but as a leftist myself with extensive knowledge of the wiki, I can confirm that no criticisms I've seen on there have been unfair or inaccurate, and in fact a lot of the evidence and testimony posted there is damning. it would be fair to not wish to associate with the site because of its content in other places, or even its past reputation, but the fact staff rail against it so hard when it's currently one of the only places (and certainly the only public place) where their deeds are on display? it's interesting.

of LordStonefish's reaction, the author says:

This is the behavior of a deeply religious figure.

it is. this is the reaction of a Mormon meeting an old friend who has left the church. this is the reaction of a Jehovah's Witness crossing the street to avoid a shunned neighbour. it is the behaviour, you could say, of a cult member.

in the conclusion, the author states:

And if anyone is to shoulder blame for the creation of this pathology and its complex, it are those true bigots of history and today, who don’t have the spiritual maturity to understand that someone’s sexual preference or identity shouldn’t be enough to categorically separate them from a definition of humanity; to beat, maim, and wish death upon them.

perhaps this might have been true, perhaps this might have drawn a thoughtful and damning line under the whole affair, if not for the fact that this behaviour has been occurring since long before the internet became known for its progressive and now increasingly often, ridiculous takes on inclusion and sensitivity. this kind of cultish groupthink has been ongoing since the wiki's very first inception. the cyclical worship of a group of staff members and other prolific writers (though the group are often one and the same) and their chosen theme or genre has occurred like clockwork since the late 00s. it has occurred when the website was still entrenched in its 4chan days and saying slurs was barely blinked at. it was still there back when staff was predominantly (or at least presumably) cis, white, and male. it was there when being gay was the butt of a joke and being trans was all but unthought of. it has always been there, and while the latest progressive policies and attitudes have had an effect on how the power is wielded, it has not changed the power itself. if the tides ever turn on the Terminally Online Woke ideology, staff will change with it and adapt their policies and ideologies to keep their power.

if anyone is to shoulder the blame for the creation of this pathology, it is the elitist attitude that has allowed a select few to be worshipped unquestionably. it is the power-hungry individuals who seek out fame and respect on a writing website and then use this fame and respect to treat others badly and their fear of a fall from grace to shelter others treating people worse. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who use their position to groom and sexually assault minors. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who keep it silent. as the severity of staff's secrets has increased, so has their attempts to silence dissent and reform at all costs.

the author agrees that this kind of religious think might lead to a cult in the future. the author says the cult will be a cult of vulnerability, but I disagree. I believe the cult is already there, and it is -- and always has been -- a cult of power.

#scp shenanigans #anon #asks

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emilia3546 · 4 years

Text

Shadowsinger Part 6 - Gwynriel

ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

*****

Azriel was still asleep when she opened her eyes, his hair falling over his eyes as his head dropped onto the back of the chair, had he slept there all night? She couldn't think how he actually managed to fall asleep in a chair of all places. He opened his eyes as she sat up,

"Morning, sleepyhead," she laughed, and he yawned,

"Morni-" and yawned again, setting Gwyn laughing again,

"C'mere, you're hair's all messy." She leaned towards him, quickly tiding it up, brushing it backwards through her fingers, not quite registering how still he had gone until she had finished and sat back, "There we go, that's better,"

"Thank you," he said, his voice much lower than usual, still with notes of sleep in it, she had never noticed it before, and she had to force herself to get up normally, and wash her face, without thinking about that voice. She stared into the mirror for a few moments, mentally preparing herself to face him again, "Gwyn, I'm gonna go and get dressed, I'll see you at breakfast."

"Okay," she shouted back, shit. How was the sound of his voice slowly shredding her self-control? It was just the change in his voice, nothing else, it couldn't be anything else she told herself. She was foolish to even consider it.

Apparently, Cassian and Nesta hadn't emerged yet, so it was just Gwyn and Azriel at the dining table that morning, forcing Gwyn to try to control her thoughts, to push any thoughts of him aside and focus on her food. She hated the silence, it felt wrong, unnatural, and she sighed, anything to break the stillness around them. Even that small sound seemed to wake Azriel,

"Gwyn," she looked up, startled, and smiled, "I just wanted to talk to you about what's going on in Illyria." Oh, she'd forgotten to ask Nesta,

"Okay,"

"I don't know how much Nesta's already told you,"

"I haven't had a chance to ask her yet, so very little."

"Okay, well, the bottom line is that there are those among the Illyrians who hate the changes Rhys has been implementing. Banning wing-clipping, and enforcing it, forcing them to train females, and putting systems in place for those who want help, so they can contact us easily, without their families knowing." Gwyn nodded, good, she'd heard about wing-clipping, seen what had happened to Emerie, it was about time it was finally gotten rid of, completely.

"Okay, so, some of them don't like it, then,"

"No, there are some who have been attempting to ignore the laws, and have failed," he added, seeing her worry, "And then there are those who are restless, hating that they fall under Rhys' jurisdiction. They want an independent Illyria, and freedom to treat their females how they wish." Gwyn gasped,

"They wouldn't survive on their own, right? They don't have a unified leader, anyone who wanted would be able to invade easily, and their army is paid by Rhysand, they couldn't afford it otherwise."

"Exactly, that's why the wannabe rebels are a minority, but they are there. I promised you no secrets, it's no good trying to protect you from this. There's nothing that could happen in Velaris though, any potential fighting will be in Illyria."

"You're going to fight?" He'd only come back from another war a year ago, and she couldn't face the thought of him, of any of them, on a battlefield.

"Maybe. Hopefully it won't come to that. Hopefully, the loyal Illyrians will be able to stop a full rebellion before it starts. Most of them do support Rhys' new laws, but the minority are very vocal."

"You need to know who is stirring up violence then. And where, and how many, and how strong they are."

"Y-yeah, exactly, have you been reading about this?"

"No, why?"

"Never mind, it's just, you seem to know exactly what to look for, and at dinner last night, you were paying attention to everyone."

"I was just trying to work out what to talk about, I doubt I'd remember it."

"Oh, really, who was complaining, quietly I might add, about the wine running out?"

"Mor."

"Yeah, and what did Rhys say?"

"That it served her right for drinking all his best wine." Azriel raised an eyebrow,

"And Feyre?"

"Laughed at both of them, and called Rhysand a pretentious prick."

"So you don't remember anything?" Gwyn laughed,

"I don't know."

"You instincts are spot-on. It takes months of training for some of my spies to learn to listen to a room like that," he mused,

"Then train me."

"What?"

"Train me. To be a spy, maybe I can help with Illyria."

"Absolutely not, you've not even trained to fight for that long, I'm not letting you anywhere near rebellious Illyrians."

"That's stupid, Az. Train me to help, or at least to listen, I visit Emerie at Windhaven quite often, so I can at least help you get a picture of what it's like there, if nowhere else. Please, I want to be helpful, I'm done being useless."

"You've never been useless, Gwyn, and I will train you, but only so that you have an extra skill set to defend yourself, not so you can go and spy in Illyria." Gwyn huffed,

"Az. You're being stupid, stop trying to keep me safe, train me, and then let me use those skills."

*****

Gwyn was glaring at him, annoyance glimmering in her eyes, he was being stupid, but some part of him couldn't bear the thought of her in danger. She kept her gaze on him as she finished eating, giving him a chance to think,

"I won't say yes," Gwyn shot him another exasperated look, "But," he continued, "You can be a last resort, only if my usual spies can't get in, or can't find anything, then you can go." She narrowed her eyes, considering, and nodded,

"Perhaps Em has heard something, we should ask her today." Azriel nodded, and quickly tidied up their plates,

"You wanna help set up for training?" He grinned, "Should be fun today," Gwyn sat bolt upright,

"Oh no, no, I know that look, you're going to be mean, is there an obstacle course of something?"

"You'll have to come if you want to find out," he slipped out of the room, chuckling as she swore and scrambled out of her chair to follow him. Gwyn's eyes widened at the sight of the course he and Cassian had secretly set up last night before dinner,

"What is it?" She breathed, pretending to be nervous of it, but Azriel noticed how she was shifting her weight from foot to foot, how her voice raised in pitch slightly, she wasn't scared. She was excited,

"It's sort of an obstacle course, but this one simulates enemies, so Cass and I can both watch you fight, without one of us having to be the opponent. And, as a bonus, the second half is brilliant for silent movement training, which is what we'll work up to if you want lessons from me." Gwyn nodded gleefully, and Azriel chuckled at her excitement, "There's only a few things I need to get set up now, the moving parts and stuff. If you like, you can get the weapons racks out and ready while I do that."

As expected, Gwyn was right at the front of the queue to tackle the course, with Nesta and Emerie right behind her, she was bouncing on her toes, waiting, waiting,

"Go!" Cassian's shout spurred her into action, and she leaped over the wall obscuring the course from her view, immediately ducking the padded bar swinging towards her head. She kept light on her feet as she ducked and weaved between moving obstacles, one wrong step and she'd be sent flying. Gwyn kept her focus on one obstacle at a time, facing one, and moving to the next, she rolled sideways, and leaped onto a wall to avoid the final bar, and it slammed into the wood next to her. She gasped, and glared at Azriel, but he chuckled, it wouldn't have really hurt her if she hadn't moved, just left a bruise perhaps, but the near-miss spurred her on, and she sprinted for the next obstacle, but her undivided focus left her exposed for the first 'enemy' to knock her feet out from underneath her. Gwyn gasped and rolled, and Nesta craned her neck to try to see at the sound, glaring at Cassian, and mouthed something at him,

"She says that if Gwyn's hurt, she'll kill us both," Cassian whispered, and Azriel snorted,

"She can try," Gwyn had rolled forwards, her hands automatically raising into her guard, and she easily blocked the next blow from the padded gloves,

"Wait! Az, how do I win?" She shouted when she ducked past and landed a blow, but barely ducked the backhanded counter-strike,

"You run, Gwyn. Run!" He shouted, "You have to beat the obstacles whilst avoiding your enemies, try not to activate the rest of them," Gwyn shot him a look before taking off, and made it past the next obstacle, before another 'enemy' activated, and she was trapped between the two of them. Azriel deactivated them with a quick command to his shadows before they could hurt her, but she was still stuck,

"Azriel!" She shouted, "Make them move, you idiot!" He didn't respond, and just chuckled at her annoyance, "Azriel!" She snapped again, and he reset the course, offering her a hand over the fence to the training ring, and chuckled when she slapped it aside, climbing over herself,

"Not bad for a first try. But, you've got to be aware of your surroundings a bit more, focus on the obstacle, but be aware of the rest of them, both of those enemies were avoidable, in fact, all of them are. When I tested this yesterday, I didn't set any off, Cass set off a few, but you should be able to avoid all of them. You're smaller than us, more agile, use that to your advantage." Gwyn nodded, and grinned when he marked her place, "Beat that next time."

Nesta came within spitting distance of Gwyn's record, a sprained ankle as she underestimated the distance of a jump sending her sprawling to the floor. She was still leaning against Cassian as he fussed whilst Emerie ran the course, only losing when a wing clipped an obstacle, knocking her off balance. She swore, but scrambled over the fence to join her sisters to watch the other females.

"Make sure you cool off, ladies," Azriel called, "Gwyn, you're with me," he stepped aside to a quiet corner of the ring. "First off, I want you to learn to move silently, it should be easy here, there's no stones to move, or creaky floorboards. Go and stand by the wall, and try to reach me without my hearing you."

"Your shadows-"

"They won't betray you, I honestly think they'd rather betray me than you," Gwyn snorted, "Make sure you place your feet carefully, and move slower than you think you need to." Gwyn nodded and Azriel turned his back, waiting for her footsteps to halt as she reached the wall. Ten meters. That was all she needed to cross. She took a deep breath, and fell silent, but after what must have been only a few steps, she rushed, placing a foot too quickly, and Azriel whirled, "Start again, you rushed, move slowly," Gwyn alerted him quickly three more times, groaning in exasperation each time he sent her back to the start, but gradually she started getting closer, only her excitement getting the better of her. She was one step away from him when she scuffed the ground,

"No!" she hissed when Azriel turned to face her, "I can do it, I can."

"I know you can, don't celebrate too early, that's the only issue." Gwyn sighed, and started again, this time remaining silent until she poked him in the shoulder and let out a whoop of delight, grinning at him, and he laughed. She was shining, and his heart leapt with her, his shadows too, her joy becoming his own, and she practically bounced up to him and beamed up at him. There was just something about her, her mere presence lifted his worries, and let his shadows roam, not constrained, but freed. She didn't chase them off as Elain had, or even Mor, she made them sing. He blinked, and realized he'd been staring, so coughed, and forced himself to look away, "Grab a sword, practice your basic movements silently."

Gwyn picked everything up remarkably quickly, it had only taken her half an hour to reach him, and now she was already adapting that technique to the swordplay, even moving the sword silently through the air. Azriel had begun coaching her through it, but now he too fell silent, just watching her, only occasionally offering pointers, and stopped her when he noticed her swings slowing down, her breathing speeding up,

"Go jog a lap, then stretch off, that's enough for today." Azriel stayed to watch, making sure she cooled off completely before leaving her to bathe and change, he should have reports to read from all his spies by now anyway, and Rhys would want an overview this evening.

*****

Gwyn toweled her hair off, and for the first time since she could remember, she had no work to do, Merrill hadn't sent her any messages, any demands more like, and she didn't feel like just sitting and reading on her own. She grabbed her book off her nightstand, and went to find Nesta, but made a face when she heard suspect noises from her friend's room, turning on her heel and heading back the way she had come. She still didn't want to be alone, so she knocked on Azriel's door, and pushed it open at the grunt from inside,

"Can I sit with you, Nesta is, uh, y'know, and I don't want to be on my own. I won't disturb you," she added, noticing the paperwork on his desk, and he smiled,

"Of course, it's just reports to go through,"

"Anything interesting?"

"No. Not yet, but I've only read through a couple, hopefully someone will have something." Gwyn nodded, and settled into an armchair to read. They fell into a comfortable silence, each reading their own material, at ease in each other's company.

As time wore on, Azriel's brows scrunched together, and he narrowed his eyes, even his shadows seemed agitated as they flitted between the two of them. Gwyn set her book aside, and crossed to his side, gently resting a hand on his shoulder,

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing important," he offered her a small smile, "Don't worry," Gwyn squeezed his shoulder softly,

"Az, what is it? Even if I can't help, let me take some of the burden. I won't pretend to know what your job's like, but please, let me help however I can."

"You are helping, by being here, by being safe, you're helping. I have so many people to worry about," he raised the papers, "I can't easily protect them, but you, and the rest of you here, I can keep you safe here. That burden lessens when you're all here." Gwyn softly cleared a spot on the desk, tiding the unusually messy papers, and sat in front of him,

"Did something go wrong?"

"No, I'm just worried it might, honestly, Gwyn, I'm fine." Gwyn narrowed her eyes disbelievingly but before she had a chance to respond, Azriel pushed his chair backwards, and made for the door, "I need to clear my head a bit, I'll be back in a bit."

"Oh, okay," of course he didn't want her help, she was probably just a nuisance, she couldn't possibly understand the stresses he faced on a daily basis. If he needed help he'd ask Cassian, she should leave him alone. But, even as she allowed him time, something made her feet move, made her climb the stairs to the roof.

The stars were beautiful, shining together, and she relaxed at the familiar sight, counting the stars as she had since she was a little girl. She stopped moving at the sight of another figure sitting on the edge of the roof, hunched over, his knees drawn up to his chest, with his great,beautiful wings drooping behind him. Gwyn made her presence known as she crossed the roof and sat beside him,

"Az," she whispered, and put an arm around his shoulders, "Please. Talk to me." he shook his head, staring into the distance still, even as a wing shifted closer to her, "What's wrong?" He just turned to face her, his beautiful face filled with despair, his eyes, usually so full of life were dimmed, empty. Gwyn moved before she knew what she was doing, cupping his face in her hand, and he leaned into the touch, "What happened?" She breathed,

"Nothing. That's the problem. Nothing. I can't even do my job." He broke off and turned away, but Gwyn turned him back,

"Talk to me."

"Rhys has a meeting with all the Camp Lords tomorrow, it could be the make or break moment for the rebellion. I was supposed to get information, who tries to fight his new laws, who wants to fight back, you know. I have nothing. He's going in blind. It's my fault, I failed him. Again." Tears pricked Gwyn's eyes at the despair in his voice, the self-loathing.

"You didn't fail anyone. You did everything you could."

"I could have gone in myself."

"To Illyria? They'd have clammed up completely at the slightest whiff that you were there. You have to trust your spies, and sometimes they won't find anything, and it isn't your fault."

"I couldn't even get them in to some camps."

"Again, they couldn't get in, not you. They work for you, but something that goes wrong on their end does not mean that you let anyone down. Sometimes things go wrong, and no-one is to blame."

"I can't keep letting him down."

"You don't keep letting him down. You could never let him down."

"I did. I wasn't with him when he went to that meeting. I could have stopped it." Gwyn knew the meeting he was talking about, "There was no-one to sniff his drink, if I had been there, she would never have been able to sink her claws into him." Gwyn just nestled into his side, letting him talk, "Fifty years, Gwyn. I failed to find a way to save him for fifty years! And then when he got back, I got injured at Hybern, I forced Feyre to go back to Spring. I am the reason that he almost lost his mate as soon as he found her. I should have known that the queens were after Feyre's sisters in the first place, but I failed them, too." Gwyn rubbed his shoulder, holding his gaze as he spoke, "I was too slow in the battle, he died because I couldn't help."

"No." Gwyn breathed, “He died to heal the Cauldron, you couldn't have done anything.”

"Yes, I could. I was with Helion, his specialty is spellwork. If I'd gotten him there faster, they could have worked together."

"You got him there fast enough to revive him."

"But without Feyre, we never would have had the chance. I can't risk something happening again, for all I know, they might all attack him at the meeting. He'd be fine, but still, I should know if there's a plan like that." Azriel finally stopped for a breath, his gaze returning a little, actually looking at her, not just seeing.

"Az, you have done everything and more that anyone could possibly expect. Plan for what might happen, with what you have, but we can't use what we don't have, so don't beat yourself up about it. Please." It broke her, seeing him like this, miserable, thinking he didn't deserve everything he had built for himself. She couldn't bear the thought of him suffering, alone, thinking that he'd failed those he loved most. Before she could reconsider, she was singing, singing the only song she knew would help him, his mother's lullaby,

Arrorró mi niño

Arrorró mi sol

Duérmase pedazo

De mi corazón

Cierre los ojitos

Ya se va a dormir

Que el pícaro sueño

No quiere venir.

Azriel's gaze remained on her as she sang, his breathing becoming more regular, until his shadows began to dance. She was still leaning against his side when the song finished, and she started again, tears pricking her eyes when he joined in, no hint of the misery left in his voice, just hope.

"Let's get to bed, it's late," she whispered, and Azriel didn't complain as she led him back to his room, but when she turned to leave, she couldn't. He needed her now. She perched on the bed beside him, setting a pillow against the wall, and sang again, stroking his hair as he drifted off to sleep, his head in her lap.

*****

Azriel actually felt rested for the first time in far too long, his mind clear, focused, and he carefully lifted Gwyn into his arms. She snuggled into him as he carried her back to her own room, leaving her sleeping, safe in her own bed. He left her a note,

Gone with Rhys to the meeting, I'll be back this evening. Thank you.

He stole one last look at Gwyn's sleeping form before slipping away.

#fanfiction #fanfic #acotar #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #Azriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn #gwyn acosf #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara

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hermits-that-craft · 4 years

Text

He’s nothing but a problem, he’ll leave you crying overnight PART TWO

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146512/chapters/66322549

Techno watches Dream through the bars of his cage, light headed and slowly bleeding out on the obsidian walls. He can’t let himself fall asleep, not when he promised Tommy to keep him safe. Wilbur and Dream talk in hushed tones just outside the cage, occasionally looking his way. Dream seems more worried about his and Tommy’s safety than Wilbur does, the crazed look back in his brother’s eyes.

Techno wonders how much of what Wilbur said to him was a lie.

Techno stands, swaying from side to side as he shuffles closer to Tommy, carefully brushing the gravel out of Tommy’s hair. His left arm hangs uselessly by his side, staining the left side of his shirt a deep crimson. It feels like hours, why hasn’t it stopped bleeding? Why hasn’t he respawned? Techno just wants a break, just wants to sleep. He can’t let Tommy down, though. He can’t let the pair hurt him ever again.

“Do you want a regen pot now, Techno?” Dream asks, suddenly standing at the bars. “I can give you one now, or I can throw a splash potion of health on you.”

“Why didn’t you just kill me?” Techno slurs, the blood loss getting to his head.

“Can’t have you bringing reinforcements.” Dream opens the door, and Techno struggles to get to his feet - when did he start kneeling? - swaying dangerously from side to side. Dream chuckles under his breath, pushing Techno to the floor. “If you’d just set your spawn on the other bed, all this pain would be over.”

Techno glares at Dream, who just forces his mouth open, pouring the regen potion down his throat. Techno splutters, gulping down the potion so he doesn’t drown in it. He feels his arm numb, the wound slowly knitting itself together. Dream nods, walking out of the cell and slamming the door behind him. Techno struggles to his knees, watching the large wound knit itself into a fine scar.

Tommy doesn’t wake.

---

“Morning Tubbster.” Jordan’s voice bounces off of the walls in the spare bedroom, Tubbo slowly rubbing his eyes.

“Cap’ain?” Tubbo yawns, looking up at the man. “Wha’ are you doing here?”

“Phil invited me over, Eret says you guys need some help?” Jordan pulls Tubbo into a hug, the teen sinking into the feeling. “We’ll get him back, promise.”

“What if he’s permadead?” Tubbo’s voice is quiet, full of fear.

“Then we’ll bring him back and give him a proper burial.” Jordan’s voice is heavy with sadness. Tubbo nods, and he hops out of the bed, his suit falling uncomfortably around him as he walks towards the throne room.

“No, Tubbster. Go get changed. Steal some of Eret’s clothes if you have to, just get out of the comfortable suit.”

Tubbo nods again, walking down the hallway in a sort of daze, and Jordan lets out a sigh of relief. It’s worrying, Jordan decides, watching the teen walk away. Worrying just how fearful and empty the boy seems. He needs to tell someone, to make sure that the teen is only alone for short amounts of time, especially if Tommy ends up- not that it would happen, Jordan tries to stop the thought before it finishes. He has to remain positive, for Phil’s sake.

He couldn’t imagine how Phil must feel, watching one of his sons slip into insanity while another toes the line between life and death. Jordan walks towards the throne room, a heavy heart weighing down his thoughts. He doesn’t know how anyone will cope if Tommy turns out to be dead, though he doesn’t know what else the teen could be.

“Hello Sparkly Boy.” Jschlatt’s voice echoes through the throne room, startling Jordan out of his thoughts. “You shouldn’t be thinking that hard, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Schlatt?” Jordan says, surprised. “I thought you were looking for-”

“We got turned around in the forest.” Quackity interrupts him. “We tried to refind the trail, but all we found was Pogtopia, and that would have been helpful months ago.”

“So we’re back to square one.” Eret says, running her hands through her hair. “What’ll we do?”

“Fuck if I know.” Schlatt shrugs. “I vote we let Tubbo hack, Dream can’t ban us all.”

“He can ban Tubbo though.” Fundy snaps, glaring at Schlatt. “And he will, that was one of the rules that Dream specifically gave Tubbo-”

“He’s always welcome in Mianite.” Jordan nods to Eret. “Most of you are, in fact.”

“Most?” Nikki asks, a smile on her face.

“Gotta keep the rabble out somehow.”

---

Tommy shivers, watching Techno sleep on the floor. The man looks uncomfortable, but Tommy doesn’t have the energy to move. He just wants to sleep, his throat hurts so much, and his limbs feel too heavy. The room is too small for him to breath, too big for him to walk around. So he just lies down, watching Techno sleep. Hopefully peacefully.

“Hello Tommy.” Dream says, leaning against the bars of the cell. Tommy flinches slightly, trying to act as though he’s still sleeping. “Wilbur should be ready to make L’Manburg blow up by now.”

“No.” His throat feels as though he swallowed a cheese grater, and Tommy coughs up some blood and gravel, wincing the whole time. “No, Dream. He can’t.”

“I’ll let you know how many he kills.” Dream’s voice sounds happy, as though this is the best outcome. “He said he’d take photos to show you later. Pity you won’t see it.”

“I could escape.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and his hope is barely there, but he still lets the words fall out of his mouth. Dream laughs, waking Techno up.

“You think you can escape? You couldn’t even fight back when I went to knock you out yesterday. Where would you go, Tommy Innit? Phil is helping Wilbur, and Sparklez has already collected Tubbo and left. Face it, you’re not winning this time. Techno only has his arm because Phil told me not to remove it, unless necessary. You’ll stay in there until we can find a place to put you two where you won't interfere.”

“At least we’ll be together.” Tommy breaths, already feeling weak from the conversation.

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that.” Dream says, walking away from the bars. “I’d suggest saying what you need to say to Techno, you won’t see him after we take you out of that box.”

“Don’t worry Tommy.” Techno says, gently holding Tommy’s hand. “The second we get a chance, I’ll get you out of here. All you need to do is rest and heal.”

Tommy’s eyes flutter shut, and he falls into a dreamscape riddled with corpses and fire, alone and hunted by the people he thought he could trust.

---

Everyone sits around Tubbo, watching him type command after command in the Manburg whitehouse, claiming better connection there. It would be preferable to hack in spawn, but none of the group wanted to risk that. With a slam, Tubbo hits his head on the desk.

“You alright there buddy?” Quackity asks, looking up from his communicator.

“Can you guys fucking leave?” Tubbo snaps. “I can’t focus on the code while everyone is leaning over my goddamn shoulder!”

“Language.” Bad says absentmindedly, walking towards the door. “We need to go get some food, Skeppy.”

“Okay!” The man responds, and slowly everyone peels off in different directions, going to prepare for the festival or run errands. Only Eret, Jordan and Phil remain, though Schlatt has to be pulled out of the room by Quackity.

“You alright, Tubbo?” Eret asks quietly. “You’re allowed to take breaks.”

“I know!” Tubbo says, sitting himself back up and searching through the code. “I’m so close. I can tell. I just need coordinates.”

“We’ll let you get to that, then.” Phil says, walking to the window, watching the people move around Manburg, some clearly just waiting for Tubbo to leave the whitehouse with whatever news he can bring. Eret leaves, talking to Nikki under an awning.

His gut drops as a familiar form appears on the horizon, wearing a brown trenchcoat and a gray beanie. Soft and fluffy brown hair pokes out from underneath it, and Phil watches in horror as his son presses a button, and screams erupt from the city below.

Quackity was blown up by WilburSoot JSchlatt was blown up by WilburSoot Niachu was blown up by WilburSoot Ponk was blown up by WilburSoot Punz was blown up by WilburSoot Purpled was blown up by WilburSoot BadBoyHalo was blown up by WilburSoot Georgenotfound was blown up by WilburSoot Sapnap was crushed to death ItsFundy was blown up by WilburSoot Skeppy was crushed to death The_Eret was suffocated

“Well, that was exciting.” Dream mutters, reading through the notifications. “The man actually did it.”

“What did Wilbur mess up now?” Techno grumbles, standing up. He hasn’t eaten since dinner yesterday, assuming that he’s only been captive for a day. He sways slightly, glaring at Dream.

“He blew up L’Manburg.” Dream laughs, and Tommy gasps, alerting the adults to the teen.

“No.” Techno can’t help but think about how pathetic the noise sounds, barely could be considered a whisper falling from Tommy’s lips. “No.”

“Yes.” Dream’s mask is unnerving, staring blankly at Tommy, who curls up under the blankets. “Do you want to know who died in it?”

“No.” Tommy shakes, and Techno starts to fret around the teen, worried for his health and safety. What if he falls? He’s so weak as it is. “No, please no.”

“Fundy, Nikki, Ponk and Punz.” Dream counts them off on his fingers. “Skeppy, Bad, George and Sap.”

“You let him kill your friends.” Techno glares, and Dream shrugs.

“Purpled, Quackity, Schlatt and Eret.” Dream laughs, and Tommy flinches. “I imagine more will die soon, crushed or suffocated to death. You’d know all about suffocation, wouldn’t you Tommy?”

“Leave him alone!” Techno spits, and Tommy huddles himself closer to the bed, as though he could disappear into the sheets.

“I wonder if it will be sand, gravel, concrete powder or even dirt that suffocates them.” Dream muses, ignoring Techno. “Gravel hurts more, doesn’t it Tommy? Sand and concrete powder are fine, while gravel is just tiny rocks.”

“Stop it!” Techno yells, not knowing what else to do. “Leave him out of this!”

---

“Found their coordinates.” Tubbo says, his face pale and his voice shaking ever so slightly. “We have to go, we have to get them.”

“What are the coordinates?” Phil says, walking away from the small medical bay that they had set up in the white house. “Sparkles and I will go get him, you should stay here and make sure everyone is fine.”

“Why can’t I go?” Tubbo asks, glaring slightly at Phil. The man crosses the room, walking to the teen. The pair is acutely aware of the stares they are getting from the injured, their eyes following Phil as Jordan mutely bandages Nikki’s arms. “Why can’t I help?”

“Because teenagers shouldn’t be fighting wars.” Phil says, gently taking Tubbo’s keyboard away from him. “I’m flying over, so is Sparkles. We have our elytras. You have to stay here and make sure everyone has had at least one healing potion.”

“Why can’t I-”

“You can’t keep up with us.” Jordan says, taking a note of the coordinates. “We’ll be back before sundown. If we aren’t, go to Mianite.”

Tubbo nods, and the two men exit the room.

---

Wilbur hums to himself, walking back into the little base that they built for Tommy. It’s a pity that Techno refused to join, but that problem can be dealt with later. Dream promised to put Techno somewhere safe, away from Tommy and Wilbur and the traitors until he remembers who his real family is. Techno will come around, so will Tommy.

Fear will keep his soldiers in check.

Fear will keep his brothers safe from traitors.

Wilbur walks in, watching as Techno is dragged away from Tommy’s room, unconscious. Tommy is crying, screaming at Dream to let Techno go. Dream must’ve found a safe place to put Techno until the hybrid breaks.

Dream and Techno disappear behind a corner, and Tommy sobs, a broken, mournful sound that spurs Wilbur on. Tommy looks up, tears flowing down his face as he looks to Wilbur. The man smiles back to the crying boy, who slowly struggles to his feet.

Wilbur watches, his smile growing as Tommy falls the second he tries to take a step, as though the multiple deaths weakened him. They did, of course, but the teen still seems shocked by it. Wilbur quickly walks into the cell, half wanting to comfort his brother, half wanting to use this to his advantage. Tommy will need him. He can get Tommy to realise that he’s in the right, that blowing up Manburg was the right thing to do.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Toms.” Wilbur says, gently holding Tommy as the teen sobs. “You made a mistake, and you’ve been punished for it. Now you know what happens to traitors.”

Tommy just sobs, and Wilbur tutts impatiently, waiting for the tears to stop so he can talk again.

“Did you actually blow up Manburg?” Tommy sniffles.

“Of course I did.” Wilbur says, smiling down at Tommy. “I had to. I had to protect us from those traitors.”

“But Nikki and Tubbo-”

“Tommy, are you talking back?” Wilbur snaps, glaring at the teen. “I hope not, it sounds as though you're a traitor.”

“No, no, Wilbur I’m not!” Tommy struggles, tears flowing from his eyes as Wilbur’s hands grip his arms tightly. “I promise I’m not Wil, I swear I won’t betray you. Stop it! Stop it hurts!”

“You swear you won’t betray us?”

“I swear it Wil!” Tommy starts to sob, Wilbur letting go of him. “Please Wil, I won’t betray you.”

Wilbur stands, walking out of the room. He pauses in the doorway, looking down at Tommy, who struggles to keep himself sitting upright.

“See, the thing is Tommy,” Wilbur smirks. “It’s that I don’t believe you.”

---

Tubbo walks around the small medical bay, handing out regen potions and pouring health potions on wounds. Nikki stares out of the window, her bed moved closest to it when she asked. Eret walks around silently, helping Tubbo deliver things. There’s pain in his eyes every time he speaks, and though Tubbo gave him a health potion to drink it’s clear that it didn’t change much.

Will Tommy be worse, when he arrives?

Tubbo makes up a bed, across from Nikki’s but still next to the window, almost subconsciously. Fundy watches him, half of his fur burnt off from the explosion. Tubbo doesn’t know what actually killed him, if it was the explosion or the fires that it caused.

That's another thing that Tubbo will have to fix, the fires.

“Everything alright, Tubbo?” Fundy asks, breaking the carefully maintained silence.

“The fires are spreading, I’ll have to-”

“No.” Fundy interrupts. “Not what I meant. Mentally, for you. Is everything alright in your head?”

“Of course, Tommy’s coming home soon and you guys are healing. Everything is going to be just fine.” Tubbo lets the words fall out of his mouth, not believing a single one of them. “It has to be.

It has to be, right?”

---

“Philza, CaptainSparklez.” Dream greets the pair, nodding to them. Both men notice the blood splattered across his green hoodie, fresh and bright. Jordan pales slightly, and Phil glares at the admin of the world. “A pleasure to see you both. I see you’re already breaking the rules.”

“Where are my sons.” Phil demands, no longer asking questions.

“Wilbur is safe, Tommy is in his room.”

“Techno?” Jordan asks, frowning in concern. “Is that his blood?”

“He fought back.” Dream shrugs. “I was just trying to protect Tommy.”

“Cut the crap, Dream.” Phil growls. “Where. Are. My. Sons?”

“Find them yourself.” Dream says, turning to leave. “I honestly don’t care what you two do, Manburg is destroyed. I have the power again.”

Dream was shot by CaptainSparklez

“Lets go.” Jordan says, walking past Dream’s items without a second thought. Phil nods, taking Dream’s crossbow and some arrows. “Lets go kill your eldest kid and get your other two back.”

“You know, if Techno finds out that you know he isn’t the eldest, our whole family is going to fall apart. We’ve been pretending that Techno’s the eldest for years now.” Phil says lighting, loading the crossbow.

“The only reason I know is because Tubbo told me.” Jordan smiles, entering a small hole in the cliff face, walking into a large room.

Tunnels and doorways appear randomly from each wall, creating a maze out from the main room. The rock is roughly hewn, and a blood trail leads out of one corridor and across the main room, before disappearing behind an iron door. Jordan and Phil nod to each other, before Jordan turns to the door and Phil disappears down the corridor.

---

“How could you?” Bad yells from his bed, the group silently watching as Eret, Sapnap and Skeppy drag Dream into the white house. “How could you do that to everyone?”

“I didn’t think he would actually blow this place up, Bad!” Dream yells, trying to defend himself.

“You put Tommy in a death loop!”

“Wilbur told me to!”

“Oh wow, the nuremberg defence, very original!” Bad spits, and Tubbo looks up from Nikki’s side, surprised at Bad. “That’s not a defense! You still killed a child and locked him in a death loop!”

“I gave him a healing pot!”

“He’d need regen after that ordeal!” Nikki yells, joining in with Bad’s tirade. The pair were the first of the exploded to wake up, and the furthest away from the explosions. The only reason they hadn’t joined Jordan and Phil was because Tubbo and Eret had forced them to remain in their beds and heal goddamn it. “And he’ll still have trauma you monster!”

“He’ll get over it-”

“No he wont!”

Everyone is fighting now, the bed ridden struggling to remove themselves from their beds and bandages, with Eret mutely attempting to keep them all in check. Sapnap attempts to pull Dream down the stairs, but Skeppy stops him, glaring at the man. The voices melt and meld together, until Tubbo can’t tell who is blaming who for what. A wild fire burns in everyone’s chests, raging against the wood of past mistakes. Nikki and Dream’s fires are the brightest, fighting for supremacy against each other. Tubbo’s is the smallest, barely a candle’s flame compared to the bush fires that the others hold.

He’s hollow, empty, the fire barely keeping him awake, let alone allowing him to be angry.

Tubbo stands, his chair falling to the ground with a loud clatter. The room falls silent, everyone staring at the teen, breathes held in collective curiosity. Tubbo ignores all of them, walking out of the building with tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He ignores the animals, the fires outside, the holes in the land that Wilbur’s bombs left. He ignores it all, walking towards the embassy, Tommy’s home. He takes out Mellohi, playing it in the jukebox as he sobs on the bench, wishing Tommy was besides him.

WilburSoot was shot by Ph1lza

Tommy finds himself relaxing in the man's arms, somehow unable to name the man in his mind. He doesn’t know what makes him trust him - perhaps it's because he killed Wilbur, perhaps it's because he just smells safe, like the scent of rain after a drought.

Another man joins them in the main room, carrying something large and pink. It’s almost funny, how blurred and broken Tommy’s vision is. As though something is in the way. Tommy shuts his eyes, hoping that when he opens them everything will be back to normal, and he will know who has saved him.

When he opens them again, he’s flying. The man holds him close to his chest, and Tommy can't help but think of the first time he met Phil, the first time he could remember when he knew he was safe. He’s safe again, isn’t he? The man is safe.

He starts to cry, wishing he could go back. It was so much simpler back then.

“Shhh, it’s alright son.” Phil’s voice sounds over the wind. “I’m taking you home.”

And Tommy breaks in Phil’s arms, going home with his Dad once more.

---

Eret sits down next to Tubbo, not saying anything to the teen. He offers his hand to the teen, and he just rests his head on Eret’s shoulders, sobbing softly onto Eret’s shoulders. Eret puts his arm around Tubbo’s shoulders.

They sit in silence, listening to the music disk play as the sun sets over the horizon. Tubbo’s sobs are slowly replaced by soft breathing, and Eret picks the teen up as he softly snores on the man’s shoulders. Slowly, he takes the music disk out of the jukebox and tucks it safely into his inventory, before carrying Tubbo back to Manburg. Sapnap and Skeppy nod at him from the door, and the pair both give him a soft smile as they see Tubbo sleeping soundly in his arms.

Nikki looks up from a book as he enters the room, the rest of the members of this world either asleep or too dosed up on potions and pain relief to notice him. She gives him a soft smile, moving over on her bed. Eret gently places Tubbo on his bed, before he quickly sits by Nikki’s side.

“They’re at your castle.” Nikki whispers to Eret, and he immediately knows who she’s talking about. “The boys are really injured, and Phil says that Tommy didn’t even recognise him. Sparkles and Phil just wanted to make sure that the pair of them weren’t overwhelmed.”

“And Wilbur? Anyone seen him?” Eret’s voice makes his throat feel as though its bleeding, but he has to know.

“Not a word or a sighting.” Nikki sighs. “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m worried for him.”

“You’re worried about loverboy?” Schlatt’s voice is quiet against the night air, though it makes the pair jump. “He was - is, I don’t know, - your friend. You should be worried for him.”

“He blew up Manburg.” Nikki responds quietly.

“He went insane, can’t blame him for that.” Schlatt stares up at the roof. “He isn’t the only person on this server who’s done some fucked up shit like that before.”

“Schlatt, what are you-”

“Can I have some more drugs? Just pump them into me. It hurts so much.” Schlatt requests, and Eret nods, standing up and walking to the potion chest. “Thank you.”

“Just rest, Schlatt.” Eret sighs, his white eyes glowing behind his sun glasses. “You need it.”

“So do you.”

---

Tommy wakes up slowly for what feels like the first time in a long while. A bandage rests over his left eye, though his right one spies the rainbow that hits the wall of the room he’s in, lighting it up brightly. He struggles to work out where he is, frowning as his eye scans the room for more details, before his memory sorts itself out.

Eret’s castle has rainbow windows.

Okay, so he knows where he is, but how did he get here, he questions silently. The last thing he can remember is Wilbur going mad at him for speaking back, so how did he get to Eret’s castle?

Tommy turns his head over, and sees Phil leaning over his bed, sitting in his chair and sleeping, one hand holding up his head. Tommy, despite knowing that his father must be tired, and that he himself must look like he’s gone through hell and back, but he cracks a smile at the sight.

“You look like shit, Dad.” Tommy whispers, wincing at the pain that follows speaking. Phil’s eyes shoot open, and Tommy sees relief wash over his father’s figure.

“Tommy you’re awake!” Phil practically yells, pulling Tommy into a hug. Tommy leans into the hug, pushing the fearful flinch down his throat. Phil saved him. That must be why he’s here.

Footsteps thunder down the halls, too many for Tommy to count. The door slams open, and Tommy can hear people talking without processing or understanding a word. Eret. Fundy. Nikki. Tubbo. They’re all here.

“Tommy?” Tubbo’s voice is quiet, though it comes from right besides him. Tommy pulls himself away from Phil, his heart aching at the loss of contact, and turns to look at Tubbo.

“Tubbo?” Tommy whispers, looking to his friend. Tubbo wears his normal clothes - green button up shirt and grey pants, but he also wears a red bandanna, and his eyes have bags under them. “Is this…”

“This is real.” Tubbo says, pulling Tommy in to a hug. “Everything is going to be alright, Tommy.”

And Tommy cries, not fully broken but not fully fixed either. Tubbo holds him through it, Phil joining in the hug soon after. Tommy cries until there are no tears left, and then he holds onto Tubbo as though he’s afraid of losing him. Tommy knows he won’t lose Tubbo, Tubbo is a good person.

He’s afraid of waking up. Of this all being a dream.

“You need a regen pot.” Nikki says softly, and Tommy feels the dip in the bed. Why does everyone decide to sit on the side of him that he can’t see? “Drink this, then you can go back to hugging Tubbo and Phil.”

Tommy nods, silently taking the potion from Nikki. He downs it quickly, wincing at the sickly sweet taste of it. It hits his empty stomach, and he feels the magic stick to the insides of his throat and make its way to his lungs, working its way to his left eye. It stings, almost, and Tommy hums softly, smiling to himself. He looks up to Tubbo, and folds himself back into Tubbo’s arms, falling asleep next to his friend.

---

Tubbo sits with Tommy, letting his friend sleep on his shoulder as Tubbo finally relaxes. Eret ruffles Tubbo’s hair before he turns, walking out of the room with Nikki. Fundy puts down a book, one of Tommy’s favourites, before he too turns.

“I’ll tell Techno.” Fundy whispers as he leaves, and Phil smiles softly, relief in his eyes.

“Should we tell him how long he’s been asleep for?” Tubbo whispers to the man, who frowns for a second, thinking.

“I don’t know. Maybe when he’s better.” Phil shrugs. “I think that if he found out that he’s been asleep for a month now it’d only do him harm.”

Tubbo moves, trying to get more comfortable on the bed, when footsteps echo down the corridor. Techno slides through the open door, surprise on his face as he examines the scene in front of him. Tubbo smiles at Techno, who sighs.

“I missed him waking up?” Techno says with a small pout.

“He just fell asleep, we could wake him up if you want.” Tubbo offers.

“Nah, let him sleep.” Techno shrugs. “I’ll take up Dad’s place in the chair.”

“You two and your chairs.” Tubbo shakes his head, smiling brightly.

---

Fundy walks down the stairs of Eret’s castle, down to the holding cells that Eret built. Only a few people know the entrance, and Fundy is unlucky enough to be one of the trusted few that will actually guard the prisoners. Fundy takes a deep breath in, unlocking the iron door with a click that echoes through the cavernous cell.

“Your shift isn’t for a few hours, Fundy.” Skeppy says, cocking his head as he looks at the fox hybrid. “Did you want to talk to your Dad?”

“Yeah, and to Dream.” Fundy says, seeing no point in lying. Skeppy will hear the news as he talks to them anyways.

“I’m not supposed to let you in.” Skeppy smiles, despite his words. “But he’s your Dad, so I’ll let you talk to him.”

“Thank you.” Fundy says, watching as Skeppy steps away from the door, opening it for Fundy.

The fox hybrid walks into the cells, and Wilbur and Dream both look up at him. They’re in separate cells, but they still sit with each other, playing cards or uno. Skeppy always let them play games. It keeps them sane - or saner.

“Fundy.” Dream nods to him, his mask muffling the words that echo off of the stone walls. “Pleasure to see you, are you going to let us out?”

“Nope.” Fundy tears his eyes from the man, guilt eating at his mind. “I just have some news that you’d both like to hear.”

“Well, son,” Wilbur smiles sadly. “Tell us?”

“Tommy’s awake.”

#fic #mcyt #mcyt fic #mcyt fanfiction #im still not tagging everyone who shows up

77 notes · View notes

nightswithkookmin · 4 years

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Hello Goldy 💜 So JK dint post for Jin and so does Tae. Both of them di t post for Jinins bday also. Whats going on here ? I dont understand if JK and Tae have been banned from posting on their boyfriends bday. As u can tell i am both Jikook and Taejin shipper. What do u think is happening or should i say not happening.

This topic...

Hold on, lemme put on my tinfoil hat:

I got nothing. Lol.

Secondly, aaaaah Tae Kook!

Lol. Tae Kook. The evil power duo of BTS, my favorite rageddy boogie men of ship street Avenue, PPP- pathological party poopers of Bangtan fantasyland- stomping on shipper's parade, putting commas in people's hopes and dreams. Y'all didn't get the memo? When we said y'all be snatching hearts, this is not the kind of horror heart snatching we was talking about! Y'all ratchet for this shit. Lol.

Someone give them the memo. Atatatatatat.

Lmho.

I mean for Jk, I've already speculated a few times- several times now, how I feel he's kind off been on a self assertive journey since late 2019 and coupled with a lot of things I felt was happening with him, Jimin and group around that period, that him not posting for the members' birthdays sort of make a lot of sense to me.

I've also speculated on what I felt was going on with Kook, RM and Tae around JM's birthday this year, so Tae not posting for JM also sort of made sense to me?

Tae missed Jimin's birthday as well. It would have been 'problematic' in today's social media climate if he posted for any body else within the group after that. It's the same with JK when he missed Jin's birthday last December- had he posted for anybody else, I'm afraid several trucks would have been sent to BigHit HQ demanding his head on a spike. Chileee.

Can't blame them though. Even the members themselves, during 2017 Festa, descended hard on JK for gifting a present to Jimin and not the others- they pay attention to these things, you know? Jin in his recent VLive had said he had been up waiting for texts and all- or something along the lines of that, and I'm pretty sure he pays attention to who posts what on their Twitter account on his birthday. Well we know Jimin does this too. Lol.

You don't need to be a mad scientist to figure out that one member posting for another and not the others would make the members feel some kind of way about it even if they don't say it out loud.

Frankly, like I said, I feel they set themselves up for this shit- miss one, miss them all or risk solo stans coming for your ass. That's how we roll on these fang gang streets. Lol.

But for Kook, I sort of felt his was deliberate- may be an impulsive decision at the time, but deliberate nonetheless. I mean he had all 24 hours post Jin's birthday to belate that shit- better late than never, but he didn't do that.

Whatever had transpired within that period- which I've speculated on in past posts, I feel that had pushed him to his breaking point and had incentivized him or propelled him to reel back, reevaluate his goals, intentions, purpose, calling- whatever you wanna call it, and eventually had embarked on a journey to reassert himself and take back control of his life all throughout 2020- until recent times...

- Y'all see Jikook's dynamics have flipped again post Jimin's birthday right? Clear your schedules. We gone talk. Soon. Muhahaha.

I don said, Jikook have/had been asserting themselves against eachother and against the group this year. And for Jk, that self assertion would come in the form of him putting up boundaries and reinforcing already existing boundaries among other things, which would in turn require him demanding and demonstrating his independence from anything and anyone he had relinquished his self autonomy to- prior to. In my opinion.

I'm gonna step on a few toes here and regurgitate, JK didn't just take a step back from his life, he took a step back from Jimin as well, in my opinion- I can literally hear temperatures rising. Chilee. Lmho.

It's easy to lose yourself in the process of loving someone. And when you love this person more than you love yourself, in the thick of love, under heavy public and peer scrutiny, where you are being told to change this and that about yourself everyday and everytime as a prerequisite for being able to love this person you want within a group; then you are bound to end up with nothing but the total eradication of who you are at your core or at least a drift away from your true self and the expressions of it... Sigh.

I mean all the, 'try not to be so possessive, he's our friend too' 'operation neutralize Jikook' 'chilee, don't lean too much into him, this is an award' 'I've got Jimin, restrain Kook' 'oh I think you stared too long here' 'look away' 'you got him a present, why didn't you get us any' 'is that your heart eyes?' 'Tuck it away' 'why do you film Jimin a lot?' 'use this person, not Jimin for your GCF if you want the clicks' 'GCF in Tokyo? How about OT7 in wherever mate?' - all these little tweaks and adjustments he's had to make to his personality and his expressions of self in order to hide his relationship within the group climaxes honestly. In my opinion. And late 2019 to me was that peak for JK. Again, in my opinion.

Changes like these don't come drastically. They creep up on you. Its slippery slope till you're caught knee deep in the mud. For instance, notice when the members complained about him not caring for them because he hadn't presented them with gifts like he did Jimin, he had agreed immediately to give them presents in the future in order to not answer to their question of why he had chosen to give just Jimin a present. That compromise to me was one of the early signs of him losing his authenticity. In my opinion.

Jimin and the members were quick to point out that he didn't have to do that because giving and gifting were not obligations and honestly they were right. He doesn't have to do things if he doesn't want to.

That's the paradox of Jungkook. He does the things he wants to do without shame and he is fearless and unapologetic about it. But you see, he is also often very passive when it comes to the things he doesn't want to do and would hesitate in insisting on his boundaries until he is pushed to his limits- from my observation of his interactions with the members and I think Suga and RM have talked about this too.

A classic example of this is his conversation with Jimin about their friendship- when Jimin said they were in between love and friends. His hesitation was a sign he was uncomfortable with that description but he didn't assert himself over it.

Another example would be Jimin saying during their log that he was taking a liking to JK- JK didn't react as much but JM turning to ask him if he was ok with him saying things like that was a sign they had had the talk about 'boundaries.'

JK is a very assertive person but his position as the youngest within the group places a lot of restrictions on his assertiveness I feel.

We talk a lot about Jimin being Kumbaya and sacrificing a lot of their personal happiness for the good of the group- well, I've been talking. Y'all don't say shit much- fuxking lurkers 😒 y'all suck. Lol. [Delete before you post, you idiot. They don't know you like that]

Anywho, we often talk about Jimin in this context but we- by we, I mean I, don't talk enough about all the ways JK often sacrifices his authenticity for the Kumbaya of the group as well. But unlike Jimin, I feel JK does it so he can keep his glass closet- fucking whippidy whip whipped. Lol.

And it's crazy because that sacrifice he makes of his true feelings and it's expression is what often leads people to question whether he acts exclusively with JM at all.

Often I hear shippers complain about how he did this with Jimin but he did similar thing with another member- listen, if you've heard JK sigh upon seeing RM imitating his mannerisms to try to neutralize his nonverbal gestures around Jimin, you'd understand what exclusivity means for him.

And when, you think about that he had to apologize to and explain himself for choosing to wear his man's bag over another member- it's not hard to see where his authentic self began to erode- It started from the moment the apologies begun. Never apologize for who you are- class dismissed. Lol.

Then he goes on to talk about losing his passions for his GCFs, his music- this is a person everyone within the group had said is or was the most passionate member within the group... You gotta wonder where it all went wrong. Know what I mean? Come on work me. I'm writing this at 2am. Lol.

I think Jimin was right when he said giving should never be a task. You should give from your heart and from your own free will. Not for show, and certainly not to please anyone.

Wishing a member a happy birthday should never be a duty, task or obligation- especially when such moments and expressions of it has become performative over the years rather than as true expressions of the love and affections they have for eachother- ok, I'm dozing off now. Lmho.

I mean let's face it, posting on Twitter for eachother has become more of a culture and an established tradition within the group that sentimental members within the group hold on to.

The birthday twitter post has been hijacked and lowkey/highkey advances the OT7 kumbaya agenda BigHit is bent on pushing and sells the BTS bromance fantasy to us rather than an actual representation of their love for eachother. In my opinion. I could be wrong about this.

JK asserting himself would mean him choosing not to participate in expressions that to him are performative, shallow and lacks depth whatsoever.

I know what you are gonna say- but but Jimin's birthday. But but but nothing. Lol. I have said I felt he was going to post for Jimin's birthday. Dude geared up for it with the 5/8 and everything.

And given as he's been on a journey to do the things he wants to and to pursue meaning in his expressions of self within the group, I feel and I believe he believes wishing his man a happy birthday on social is meaningful- Confirmation bias this shit. Lol.

Not that the act itself is meaningful, but that the act holds meaning to Jimin. I think I've talked extensively about Jimin and how important his birthday is to him. The only reason I feel he wouldn't or didn't post for him was if Jimin had asked him not to- which I believe he did. Posting for Jimin would have been tantamount to outing their relationship gangster style. Lol.

And we all know how the members feel about that. Smirk.

So no, I don't think he's been banned from posting for his man's birthday. I think this is him deciding not to partake in performative expressions of love- perhaps because that has never been him?

I don't know for Tae's Journey. His decision not to post feels very random to me. Who knows, he and JK have been talking a lot lately it seems and getting closer post Sope. So if you ask me, this perhaps is him taking a page out of JK's self help book and pursuing that authenticity of self expressions I've talked about?

I mean he did do awesome things for Jin's birthday so I don't think we can complain much. Getting his friends to wish Jin a happy birthday certainly pulls weight over a second post on Twitter. Jin got a birthday party with the members, RM had the same.....

The thing that bothers me and my friends over here about Jikook's incident is the lack of closure after that traumatizing experience.

With the others JK didn't post for, at least we got to see him in a VLive with them interacting and just giving us moments here and there. So even if he didn't post, we know he was with them and they shared the memory of that day together- which I feel is what we shippers want. For them to show eachother love- whatever way they express it.

With Jimin- Nada. Zero. Zilch. We got nothing my guy. Jimin didn't share any insight or give any details remotely resembling closure for us. We were hoping for a bangtan bomb or Episode but nothing so far. I hate it here.

We didn't get to see JK showing the love we know he feels for Jimin- he's proven time and again he loves that man. We didn't get to see them share the memories of that day together. Not even through narration- Jimin, you sonova bish! Lol.

Would I ever move on from that incident? No.

Do I want to move on from that incident- chileee I've been trying. It would haunt me for the rest of my Jikook life. Lol. I still get get nightmares thinking about it and it's Christmas. Sigh.

I think we would have to observe rather than anticipate how they choose to express and communicate their love for one another- especially Jikook and by extension Taejin- chilee Anon, I respect your hustle. Lol.

I don't blame you though. I mean sometimes Jin be looking like he wants to gobb-ok

What was your question again? Lol. I hope I answered it. Chilee. Keep supporting Jikook.

Signed,

GOLDY

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fallen-gravity · 4 years

Text

Fightin’ Back

That’s why I’m so tough on Dipper. So when the world fights, he fights back.

or,

five times that Stan helped Dipper recover after an encounter with the supernatural, and one time Dipper returned the favor.

Here’s my first attempt at a 5 + 1! My ideas and notes for this ended up getting super long, so I decided to break it up into different chapters instead of posting it all at once!

AO3

Stan can tell it’s the kids coming in through the gift shop door without even looking up from the stash of earnings he’d been counting. The height of tourism wouldn’t come until next month, and sitting around in the gift shop waiting for tourists to come by when he could always just close early to watch TV tended to get very boring very quickly.

He glances upward to greet them, and he’s surprised to find that they’re covered head to toe in cuts and scratches, and there’s twigs and leaves stuck in their hair.

“Yeesh, you two get hit by a bus or something?” he jokes, in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t stick. The young twins just blink at him in eerie synchrony, and he can’t help but notice as they make their way to the living room that they’ve both got a slight limp in their step, and...come to think of it, hadn’t Dipper been wearing a cap when he left?

“Hey, uh, hold on a second”

Both twins freeze, and turn back around to face them with their soft brown eyes tinted with exhaustion. Stan clears his throat. “W-wouldn’t you know, I uh, accidentally overstocked on some inventory, so, uh, how’s about each of you take one item from the gift shop? On the house”

The grin that spreads across Mabel’s face is bright enough that it could put any electrician within a ten mile radius out of business. Her brother seems less convinced, and raises his eyebrows at Stan in an expression that nearly mirrors one of his own.

“What’s the catch?”

“The catch is do it before I change my mind, now pick something”.

The answer seems to pacify the kid. Mabel excitedly sprints off to the opposite side of the store as something shiny seems to catch her eye, and as much as the kid’s trying to hide it, Stan can’t help but notice how much slower Dipper’s moving without his sister’s arm wrapped around his shoulder for support. It seems he’s gotten the worse beating between the two of them from...whatever it is those kids have been up to all afternoon, and even from where he’s standing at the register Stan can see the dark purple ring of a bruise sitting just below his eye.

He’d always bruised much easier than his sister.

Even when they were the tiniest of kids, and he’d take the eight hour drive down from Gravity Falls to babysit them in California, Dipper would always end up with bruises all over his arms and legs from the smallest of falls. For the longest time, he’d chalked it up to being a terrible babysitter, and it was only a matter of time before Mabel would end up the same way, until one day when he witnessed them trip over the same dent in the rug within ten minutes of each other. Where Mabel had been able to get right back up and be on her merry way, Dipper had cried about the scraped knee the short fall gave him for at least ten minutes.

Stan clears his throat. “Hey, uh...kid?”

Dipper turns from where he’d been admiring his new hat in the small shelf-side mirror. “Yeah?”

Stan fidgets anxiously with the collar of his suit. There’s gotta be something the kid’s not telling him, right? There’s only one other person Stan knows who could wander off on his own for half an hour and come back looking like he’d been fending himself off from wildlife for the past month, and it didn’t take much to notice the kid took after him in a lot more ways than one. “I…”

“GRAPPLING HOOK!” Mabel suddenly shouts from the other side of the room, startling his train of thought away. When he and Dipper turn to her, she’s dangling from the ceiling.

“Uh…” Stan blinks. “Wouldn’t you rather have a doll, or something?”

Her grin only grows wider, and she pulls the trigger again to loosen herself from the ceiling. She lands to the ground with a heavy thump. “Nope!” She aims her grappling hook towards the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and flings herself towards it. She smacks against the door, but with a quick “I’m okay!,” she stands to her feet and disappears through the door with it.

Beside Stan, Dipper chuckles, and it’s light and genuine. “Good luck getting that back from her ever again. Mom and Dad bought her a bedazzler for our twelfth birthday and she slept with the thing under her pillow for six months. She’s never giving that thing back”.

Stan shrugs, amused. “Heh, well, least now I know she’ll be able to defend herself if the goat turns on her.”

Dipper laughs. “After she got banned from the petting zoo I doubt she’d even need the grappling hook in that kind of situation”

...That’s a story he’s going to need to hear for sure.

But no, he’s getting off-track. Might as well bite the bullet before the kid heads to bed and he loses his nerve to ask. There’s a brief moment of silence between them, like Stan’s waiting for Dipper to speak up first, but then…

“Kid, are you sure you’re doing okay?”

Dipper tenses, and that should probably be enough of an answer for Stan, but Stan knows the kid, and he knows a white lie when he sees one, even if it’s just in the way Dipper carries himself. Stan’s had a lot of practice undermining how he’s feeling for the sake of other people. After you’ve been doing it for so long it becomes pretty easy to recognize in other people.

“Yeah!” Dipper’s voice squeaks, the way it does when he’s lying. “What makes you think that I’m not?”

Stan raises an eyebrow at him. “You and your sister come in looking like you’ve been mauled by a bear, and you’ve got a huge bruise on your face that your sister doesn’t” he gently taps at his own cheek to indicate its location. He sighs, shaking his head. “Look, you don’t gotta disclose to me how it happened, if it’s scary, or embarrassing, or whatever, but I want you to be honest about how you’re feeling. Your parents are trusting me to take care of you for the summer and I can’t exactly do that well if you hide things from me”.

Dipper frowns, his gaze turning away from Stan and down towards the cuts and scrapes on his arms. He looks as though his mind’s racing at a hundred miles per hour, and Stan almost wishes he had the power to read minds just to make this whole ordeal easier.

He settles for a shrug of his shoulders. “Oh, you know me.” His voice is more controlled than it had been a moment ago, but he’s still not making direct eye contact with him. “I’ve always been clumsier than Mabel. Must’ve gotten it when I tripped over that tree root sticking out of the ground.” He tries to dismiss the thought with a wave of his hand, but it’s as if he’s trying to demonstrate what he means, because his elbow bumps against the edge of the counter and he hisses in pain. He rubs at it tenderly, and when he stops and moves his hand away his fingers are lightly caked with blood.

Stan’s mouth forms to a tight, straight line. He punches the cash register to open it and put the rest of the day’s earnings inside. “Alright, that’s it. Come with me”

Dipper looks horrified. “You’re not taking me to the hospital, are you?” A quick glance to his hands, and he finally notices the blood. “I don’t need stitches, do I? Am I gonna get some weird, gross infection, or-”

Stan kneels to his level. “Whoa, whoa, take it easy there, kiddo” he says, placing a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “I’m not taking you to the hospital. Doesn’t look like nearly enough blood to need stitches anyway. We’re just gonna go into the kitchen and get the first aid kit, okay?”

Dipper sighs, and his breath is shaky. “Okay”.

He follows Stan into the kitchen like he’s his shadow, gripping onto his elbow like his life depends on it. He hops into a chair at the kitchen table and watches Stan’s every move, tight grip on his elbow not lightening up. Stan takes the seat besides Dipper, placing the first aid kit on the table beside a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“Alright,” Stan clicks the first aid kit open. “Show me what the damage is”

Dipper flinches at the use of the word damage, but he finally loosens his death grip on his elbow. It’s caked with dry blood, but Stan’s relieved to find that it doesn’t look like it’s gushing. He’d been right in assuming that he must’ve reopened the cut banging his elbow on the gift shop counter. Stan hums a noise of acknowledgement as he stands to wordlessly tell Dipper he’ll be right back, and pulls a washcloth from the drawer next to the sink. He runs it under cool water for a moment before he squeezes out the excess water and offers it to Dipper.

“Clean that off with this” Stan scrunches his nose. “Last thing you need is dry blood blocking the thing’s airway, and I can’t see how bad it actually is ‘til you clean it out. I’d help you with it, but, uh, I tend to have a hard time being gentle”

There’s a quiet laugh as Dipper takes it from him. “Thanks, Grunkle Stan”, he says with a smile, and Stan ruffles his hair as he sits back down beside him.

“Yeah, well don’t go telling anyone that I’m going soft. I owe too many people too much money for word to get around that I’m a good guy, or something”

Dipper stares blankly at him for a moment, like he’s trying to decide if he’s joking or if he means that statement completely seriously, but then he rolls his eyes as he wipes the cut clean. Once he’s sure that he’s finished, he holds his elbow up towards Stan so he can check to see how it looks. It’s bigger than Stan expected it to be, but he’s relieved that it doesn’t seem very deep. He takes a tube of triple antibiotic ointment from the first aid kit, and squints as a shaky hand moves to keep Dipper’s arm still.

“Alright, this is gonna sting a lot while I rub this stuff all over the cut, but I’m gonna need you to stay still.” With his free hand, he grabs for the miniature box of bandages and offers it to Dipper. “Take one of these. I’m gonna need you to put it on while I check over everything else”.

Dipper doesn’t reply with anything other than a nod of acknowledgement, though the look in his eyes is something reaching admiration. Stan can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips at the sight.

Once that’s taken care of, he gives the kid a one-over to make sure his other injuries don’t need as much attention. He still doesn’t know what the kid’s been up to all day, but if his brother’s first journal is anything to go by then he knows there’s no such thing as being too careful. He doesn’t look like he encountered any huge monsters, as there doesn’t seem to be any significant bite marks anywhere on his skin, and Stan’s relieved to find that the majority of Dipper’s scratches are already in the process of fading.

Just to be safe, for the scratches around his cheeks that had gathered small patches of dirt, Stan dabs a gauze into the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and gently wipes at the scratches with it until the dirt clears away. Without standing from his chair he tosses the gauze towards the trash can, but it bounces off the rim and lands to the floor beside it.

Dipper snorts in barely-contained laughter, and the sound of it has Stan smiling again.

“See? Good as new” Stan says, gesturing vaguely towards Dipper. He blushes, smiling towards the floor, before he stands from his chair and rushes forward to give Stan a hug that’s over as quick as it starts.

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan”, he murmurs, and he’s running towards the staircase before Stan’s even finished processing the hug. He’s just about to reach the top of the staircase when something finally comes to Stan, and he rushes towards the stairs just before his nephew can disappear around the corner.

“Hey, Dipper?”

He stops. “Yeah?”

“Just…” Stan taps at the hand railing with his fingers. “Just promise me you and your sister’ll try to stay safe, okay?”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but eventually Dipper nods his head. “I promise”.

#gravity falls #my writing #stan pines #dipper pines #pines family #team brawn #stan & dipper bonding

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basilone · 4 years

Note

Hey Eva! All these holiday feels floating around have got me thinking - what does the Form and Void universe do for holidays? Is it more seasonal, like the solstices? Do Gods have feast days or particular times of year when they like to be honored?

Hi Merc! *waves* Ahhh, I’m all up in my holiday feels for sure! It’s so cool to get to talk about the Form & Void equivalent of these.. though I wound up pouring this into a small fic format, as inspiration suddenly struck! Hope you’ll enjoy the read, haha. ;) Thank you for this one!

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

He’s somewhat fond of foxholes.

Sure, it’s not ideal that the ground is really hard and that the air all around nips into freezing temperatures even during the brightest part of the day. Tab doesn’t much care for the fact that his toes feel like they’re never going to be warm again, nor does he care about the veritable piles of snow that surround them worse than the Germans do. The earth is difficult to sleep on, though the hibernation mode that exists in Easy thankfully extends to most of the bugs that he knows normally have no issue with making a nuisance of themselves.

His foxhole, however, feels remarkably cozy during these evening hours. Tab’s certain that a huge part of that is the present company and the three spare blankets they were able to get a hold of between them. Another part, he’s not loathe to admit, is the fact that present company is now huddled up against him and perfectly content to be pulled into his arms.

“Almost midwinter now,” murmurs Chuck. “No Festival of Peace this year.. It’s a really big thing down in San Francisco. They go nuts with the lights and everything.”

“Yeah, Babe’s been chatting big game about the Philly lights too.” Tab laughs and shakes his head. “Way he carries on, you’d think Philly – will-fight-anything-Philly, Chuck, of all places – is Peace’s favorite spot to hang out in. Any city that birthed the likes of Guarnere should automatically be exempt from that, right?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Do they have it up in Indiana, too?”

“Small pockets, maybe, but not really where I live. They’re bigger on the harvest celebrations. Lots of random prayers and celebrations for weather gods down in the fields. Fire’s got a healthy hold on the general public, too.”

“When was Fire’s big day, again? November?” Chuck blinks up at him, then sits bolt upright. “Joe Toye Day!”

“Joe Toye Day, yeah.” He grins up at the man. “What was it he said? ‘My god’s just gonna have to share?’”

“What a character, honestly. Even you don’t say that about the week-long debauchery you’ve got going in spring.”

“Hey,” he says, playing up the indignation, “it’s not that big of a debauch. We’re just very free love about things in that week. People like it. Lots of babies, lots of flowers, lots of marriages.”

“Your god’s celebrations are banned in, like, fifty different cities that I know of,” laughs Chuck, crawling back into the warmth of his embrace now that the cool night air begins to take hold. “They upped your dosage of the suppressants around that time just so none of us would feel the urge to jump your bones, man. That’s some serious free love shit.”

“There’s plenty of me to go around.”

“Gods spare us.” Chuck’s tone is teasing and remarkably free of condemnation. It’s one of the reasons why he’s so fond of the Californian, even when the man’s life choices remain utterly baffling at times. “Hey, do you think Wisdom’s got a celebration?”

“If she does, it’s probably midsummer or something? Winters doesn’t look too pleased with the snow and Nixon’s been complaining about the cold for a day and an age now. Doesn’t seem likely she’d have a celebration when her chosen hate the cold, huh?”

“Right. Some don’t seem big on celebrations, though.”

“Or we just don’t know about ’em. That happens, too.” He shrugs. Wraps his arms tighter around Chuck. “Couldn’t tell ya about Fate, or Home, or what something like Chaos would want for a celebration..”

“What about War?”

He snorts out amusement. “I wondered when you’d get to her.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s cute, really,” Tab says, “you trying to figure her out from this very safe distance. I tend to think.. She’s got everybody on their knees for her right now, with this fighting we’re doing. Probably doesn’t need a celebration for it.” He hums as pink and golden hues dance upon Chuck’s skin a moment. Smiles at the knowledge he’s still entrusted with, even in the midst of this icy winter that’s trying so hard to keep him away from his god. “You should ask her when you see her next. She’s been out there walking the line. Shifty almost shot her the other day.”

“No fucking way.”

“Way. He says she just laughed at him and complimented him in the same voice Speirs uses when he’s impressed but doesn’t want to show it.”

“I’m not gonna ask her.”

“Ask who?” interrupts Lieb’s voice from above them. “Mind if I..?”

Tab extends an arm upward. “Hop in, you little shit,” he says. “I’m trying to get Chuck to go talk to War about her celebrations.”

“Does War even have those?”

“Ow, Lieb, fuck, keep your bony knees away from my thigh,” complains Chuck.

“Chuck, seriously, you don’t have to elbow –” Tab hisses as a particularly sharp jab lands in his ribs. “Lieb, for fuck’s sake, don’t dislocate my – Settle the fuck down.”

Lieb’s unruly hair tickles his chin. “Shut up, I’m barely even touching you,” the other Californian grumbles despite the fact that his head has come to rest on Tab’s chest beside Chuck. Not for the first time, Tab wonders how it is that his arms always wind up being home to the two unruly members of the golden state. “Why the fuck were you talking about War? Are you on your Speirs bender again?”

“I don’t have a Speirs bender.”

“Yeah, you do!”

Chuck sighs as Tab and Lieb both unite their voices to let him know just what they think about that. Tab pats his head in mock-compassion. He’s gotten used to Chuck’s intermittent comments about Speirs and that god of his, marked by the threads of affection he can see clear as day in the man’s countenance when he does. Tab’s not cruel, mind – he’s seen flashes of it in Speirs, so blink-and-you-will-miss-it that he would be convinced he missed it if he hadn’t seen War’s eyes trace Chuck’s presence for well over a fortnight now – but Chuck doesn’t seem to want to believe that there’s anything there at all.

“Changing the subject,” says Chuck, then, and this too is predictable, “does yours have any celebration, Lieb?”

“Fuck yeah. Several throughout the year. Most of them are a they-tried-to-kill-us-but-here-we-are vibe, you know, because historically we’ve been persecuted a lot?” Lieb’s voice is barely more than a mumble. There’s something frosty in his breath that makes Tab shiver. “I like the sea-parting stories that happen at some celebrations a lot. Some older Ocean-chosen can do that. I can do it in a glass of water, but nothing else.”

“Seriously? I wanna see that. Why the fuck didn’t you show us?”

“Chuck, man, fuck off, I learned how to right before we got to Mourmelon. It’s too cold for it now anyway.”

“We could melt the snow.”

“Fucking great, genius,” snipes Chuck at Tab’s murmur, “let’s melt the snow with our minds or something because there’s no way we’re gonna be warm enough to melt anything otherwise.”

“Could ask Toye?”

“Yeah, and have Guarnere remark about how water-splicing is a useless talent again? I think the fuck not.”

“Like he’s any use, sitting there getting stabby about our enemies as if they’re just gonna magically appear in front of him if he wishes really hard,” snorts Chuck, relentlessly unforgiving of any remark that’s set to harm Lieb. “I think it’s cool. You’re cool.”

“Did you hear, Tab? I’m cool now.”

“That’s great, Joe, real great.” Tab yawns. “Can you two shut your yaps now? We’re on noise discipline.”

“We’re on noise discipline,” mocks Chuck halfheartedly, snuggling closer to Tab’s side as he does. “Do you think your god’s gonna celebrate the removal of that stick from your ass?”

“Yeah, that stick’s gotta come out before the grand debauch.”

“It’s not a fucking –”

“Gentlemen,” interrupts Nixon’s amused voice from above them, “debauch or not, we’re on orders. Keep it down. Set an example.”

“Yes, sir.”

Yes, Tab thinks warmly to himself as Lieb buries his laughter against his uniform and Chuck’s body shakes with barely contained giggles, foxholes are good for sharing. He brushes a fleeting kiss against their brows. Isn’t surprised when there’s sighing instead of complaints. Even unruly Californians, after all, need a mark of love to drag them through the cold.

#formvoidseries #floyd talbert #chuck grant #joe liebgott #basilonefic #this was so much fun!#dialogue-heavy as all get-out but fun #mercurygray

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seblaine-rph · 4 years

Note

While you're looking into rps can we talk about Devereux Academy for a minute? A basic look at their main and rules reveals Kristin Stewart as an FC but she's asked repeatedly not to be used in rp, people getting originally tested for being Dom Switch or sub at 17, the rp wording is almost an exact replica of another rp that ran for a while, and they are allowing the Motta family to be whitewashed with a white Robert Pattinson FC. I'm sure theres more i was just too disgusted to keep looking.

This isn’t the first time I’ve been told to take a look at @devereuxacademy or heard about it being problematic. I can’t tell you about the dash and I’m not going to troll through everyone’s blogs, so if there is something on the dash that anyone would like to share with me (problematic plots, not tagging triggers, admin behavior,etc) then feel free to send another ask.

More than one person came to me when this rp first hit the tags, asking if I thought they had stolen parts of their rp. I reported this by answering multiple different asks about it and they never responded, which is very telling. Honestly, I think they did. Intentionally or not, they do have a lot of parts of other, existing roleplays in their plot and there are so many copy and pasted things that it looks to be done on purpose. You can say, “but it’s a D/s academy rp and there’s only so many ways to rp in a school, so of course it looks similar to other rps of the same genre” except for the part where even academy rps have their own unique plot points, including the history of the world, social economics, and the school as well as the history of the administration. And that wasn’t the last time it was brought to my attention, or the only reason. I do see it, if we’re looking for my opinion on the matter of stolen plot content. I can see at least three different roleplays that were already in the tags for a long time, weaved together to make this group. I don’t really see anything that is original in the plot or worldview info, aside from maybe the intense details on IVF as the reason for there being so many triplets. Don’t quote me on that, though, it may have been used before. I just haven’t seen it.

It weirds me out that they have all of their characters being thrust into nsfw situations before 18, with what should be an 18+ concept like BDSM, and at the same time they’re a discord rp as well as a tumblr rp. It says on their application that the characters are tested to find out which mark they are at 17. That’s a minor, being tested in a nsfw way because however you slice it BDSM and D/s are nsfw and nobody under the age of 18 can legally or morally be allowed to even dip a single toe in and that includes taking a test to find out what kinks they like and whether they’re going to want to be catching or receiving when it comes to sex. It just makes me wonder what’s being hidden in the discord. I’d also like to mention that they do have the option to play teachers as well as students, which is just weird and gross to me in this instance. The content is nsfw, clearly some students are going to get with teachers. It’s weird enough when it’s a sfw college rp and students do not smut with teachers, but being a teacher is a respectable character choice so I can see why you’d want to do it. If you were going to focus on talking to other teachers and developing plots with other teachers. In this instance though... the power dynamic between teachers and students are way different and there is a sexual overtone automatically because this is a kinky smut rp. You can also play a character as young as 21, which just makes me hope there are no relationships being written out by naive 21 year olds with their 30-40-50+, way more mature, could be their parent teacher. That might sound like I’m making up something that would never happen, but I have seen someone try to play a 62 year old lesbian that was predatory towards 19 year olds and even claimed one in a D/s rp like this. We all know how Glee rps work, we all know this line has already been crossed. We all also know why that’s gross- it’s an abuse of power and there is no way that a teacher/student dynamic could be cute because there will always be a sense of one person being way more mature than the other and being in a seat of power. Another reason to wonder what’s being hidden on this discord.

There are incorrectly casted families. In particular, I’m seeing POC families with fcs that should not belong because they do not match. I’d really like to know how it is that two Filipino girls and a black girl are twins. As a general note to the admins, you can’t erase half of someone’s ethnicity either. There are other families where one or more character is half right but also half wrong in an offensive way. And some families that are just wrong. I do give them props on some of this being right, but that doesn’t erase the other problems. You can’t whitewash people. Not all Asians are the same. Not all Latinx people are the same. Brown people aren’t interchangeable. Let me just list these so they’re easier to fix:

In the Adams family, Alex Newell is African-American but the fc has a sister that’s British, Polish and Caribbean. That might be picking at straws but I always find it offensive when people pick and choose how to group ethnicities- like deciding all Asians are the same so they can be related. Either way, she’s over half white which doesn’t match up.

Laura Harrier is Rachel Berry, she is half black and half white with Jewish background so that’s a really nice choice but then she’s twins with two Haliee Steinfeld fcs? Hailee who is Filipino... She’s also been accused of using the N word and being racist so she’s on a lot of people’s banned lists for the same reasons as Lea Michele.

Brianna Tju is in a Chinese family but she’s half Indonesian. She’s also a Disney Channel star, so some people find that problematic from the start, because most of her resources are from kid’s shows at an age that is too young to be roleplaying. She’s only 22 now, which is old enough to rp, however the only real resources she has are from something that aired in 2015 and was likely filmed in 2014 or earlier. When she was definitely a minor.

Kaya Scoldelario is Brazilian. She’s whitewashed by being placed in the Clarington family.

Zoe Deutch is Jewish. Her siblings are Matthew Daddario (Slovak, Italian, Irish, Hungarian, and English) and Haley Lu Richardson, who has a white background that doesn’t include Jewish. This is the Corcoran family as well, which should be Jewish, since they’re all related to Idina Menzel.

Victoria Pedretti is Jewish and she’s in the very white Evans family.

None of the older Fabrays are Jewish, and Ashley Johnson is Native American but also somehow a twin of the white Frannie Fabray.

Principal Figgins is played by someone that is Pakistani but the Figgins on the masterlist is played by Dev Patel, who is Gujarati Indian.

Tyler Hoechlin is also partially Native American, but he is placed in the Flangan (Irish, like straight out of Ireland) family that has Rory recast as Thomas Dogherty (Scottish) with an Ariana Grande (Italian) twin as well.

Kristen Stewart is on the masterlist but she has asked numerous times not to be used in roleplay because it makes her uncomfortable. I just covered this for another roleplay, and I’ve seen other people mention it, so it’s common knowledge at this point. She has been saying this for a long time. She’s also placed as the twin of Danielle Campbell, who is Mexican and Cajun French while Kristen is just white and the canon family member (Gilbert, so Adam Lambert) is Jewish.

Zendaya is also placed as a twin to Samantha Ware. Zendaya is mixed race, half black and half white, while Samantha is black.

Yvette Monreal is the twin to Demi Lovato. Yvette is Chilean. Demi is Mexican and Portuguese.

Avan Jogia is a Hart, but he is Gujarati Indian and white. He would be a better family relation to Dev Patel than anyone else on the masterlist and vice versa. As a refresher, Samuel Larsen (the canon fc for the Hart family) is Mexican, Danish, Spanish and Persian.

Maddison Jaizani is Iranian, but she’s listed as a Holliday which makes her related to Gwyneth Paltrow... a blonde, white woman.

Jacob Elordia is Basque and his sibling on the masterlist is Marie Avgeropoulos, a Greek actress.

Rafael Silva is Brazilian, but he is a Lopez triplet, related to a Mexican-Irish sister (Lindsay Morgan) and a Mexican-Jewish sister (Alexa Demie).

Sugar Motta is played by Vanessa Lengies on Glee, an Egyptian actress. Her family is whitewashed with two white fcs, Kelli Berglung and Robert Pattinson.

Kaylee Byrant is Japanese but she is twin to Madison Beer (Jewish) and Daisy Ridley (white).

The Puckerman family has lost its Jewish heritage. The only two on Noah’s side are Adelaide Kane (white) and Luke Pasqualino (Italian). Jake Puckerman has been recast as Justice Smith, who is half black and half white but is not Jewish. His sister is Samantha Logan who is half Trinidadian and half white and Pauline Singer, who is full Fijian.

Antonia Gentry is cast as a Weston. She is Jamaican, her listed twin is half white and half African-American. The newest acceptance for a Weston is for an African American fc.

Lili Reinhart is on the masterlist, but she’s problematic. She’s defended the abusive behavior of her cast mate, Cole Sprouse, who was very publicly accused of sexual assault and abuse. She’s also been accused of blackface annnnnnnd she’s used queer baiting to get people to watch the show. (She teased a girl on girl relationship publicly, telling people to watch the show because they might finally get to see something between Betty and Veronica, knowing that the fans wanted it, but then when she was asked about it in a later interview she scoffed and acted like it was absolutely impossible and would never happen, some would say she even sounded offended by the thought-- which is what everyone got mad at Melissa Benoist for doing with Supergirl.)

David Corenswet is Jewish, cast with Emily Browning as a sister, who is not.

I applaud the Brazilian change for Lauren Zizes, but Ashley Fink was a welcome representation of plus size actresses and the new fc is less than half her size. She’s still plus size technically, but she’s “model plus size,” which is not at all the same as Lauren’s body type. I ran this by someone that this change would affect and they were not pleased. They were the one that pointed this out to me, because it bothered them as a plus size person to see one of the few plus size characters recasted with a skinnier fc.

Dove Cameron is also on the masterlist, but she’s on a bunch of people’s banned lists. She replied to a fan that said they wanted her to notice them that they were stupid and had no life if that was one of their goals. She’s been rude to cast and crew on set. Dove has also been accused of throwing a fit and making the writers change the Descendants script to take the relationship that was written out for a black actress. She’s being accused of yellow fishing, which I believe is the term for trying to look Asian. She wore a Native American headdress in a cultural appropriation type of way. She’s been accused of being fatphobic and hiding behind photoshop on her social media while saying she doesn’t photoshop, so she’s giving off a false sense of reality to her fans. She’s been talking badly about someone that is trying to get their sexual assault story out there. The latest thing that’s come out about her is a rant about how mental health isn’t real and that people just need to logic their way out of depression? Which would be coming from a seat of high privilege. She wrote a series of tweets on the topic, calling negative mental health and the feelings they cause “a choice.” There’s a whole hashtag on Tumblr for her.

I’m not at all surprised to see that all of the diverse characters are open. No Artie, no Unique- who could definitely be recast as an actual trans woman, now that we’re living in the age of recasting for reasons of problematic natures- if we can have a new Puck, new Finn, new Rachel, and new Santana why not an appropriate Unique? She is literally the only canon trans woman, why not treat her with respect? They recasted Cooper to better fit the proper ethnicity, so...

#glee rph #glee rp #glee twin rp #glee multiples rp #smut rp #ds rp #kink rp #rph #rpcw #rpcha #sebastian answers #devereuxacademy #Anonymous

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