#today on things that are never gonna happen in canon but i wrote anyway just to get it out of my system:

[daniclaytcn]

does he love you better than i can?

buddie | rated T | 10.8 k | outsider POV | character study

Summary: He can’t fault them for that, though. Evan has known Eddie for the past six years. Tommy has only been in the picture for about a month, give or take. Nothing has ever happened between us, Evan had insisted. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Eddie had told him unequivocally. There’s no reason he shouldn’t take them both at their word, Tommy thinks, decisively. or, buck and eddie insist that there's nothing going on between them. tommy wants to believe them. he really, really does.

[read here on ao3]

tagging a few people under the cut:

@tawaifeddiediaz @bieddiediaz @athenagranted @therapized-eddie @911-on-abc

@chimchiminie98 @bucksbisexualawakening @edmundodiazz @caroandcats @akapotatogirl

[jayke0]

End of The Line

Summary: It's the end of the line for Moon Knight.

Rating: Mild gore.

Warnings/Content: Ton of angst, Marc hates himself, Marc hates Steven, they're literally dying, blood, MK lore is canon but this is set afterwards, mild self harm references, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 862

A/n: This is just a short little angst thing I wrote a while ago and edited today. I know this isn't what i normally post, but I just wanted to get this out there since it's been on my mind for a while. Probably typos.

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………………………….....………………..................

“What's wrong?”

Marc hates that phrase.

What's wrong? Surely, if he knew what was wrong, he wouldn't be sobbing in a public restroom in the middle of nowhere.

“Marc?”

“Fuck off, Steven.”

His knuckles are stark white from how hard he's gripping the metal sink, countless droplets of tears and blood trickling down the inside of the cold basin.

Marc’s focus shifts to the mirror. He'd hoped that adjusting his hair would work to ground him, but the swept back curls only reveal the bags under his worn eyes and red streaks staining his cheeks. The salty beads sting the crimson cuts littering his face.

“What happened to you, Marc?”

Jesus, does this guy ever shut up? He's like a constant nag in the back of Marc’s brain, a constant reminder of what he could’ve been. They'd reconciled after their escapade with Ammit, but the military man was finding it hard to be open with Steven; even after dying together.

It's almost poetic how their situation has come full circle; except this time, they have no Layla to save them

Marc ignores the voice, Steven doesn't need to know anyway, that'd just make everything worse. Splashing his face with water makes him hiss softly under his breath, and he catches eye contact with himself. He feels his throat tighten, a ball rising under his skin till he's eventually sobbing again.

He can't hold himself up, it feels like the entire weight of the world is pushing him further and further down onto the grimy tiled floor. The rubber of his trainers squeaks as he finally collapses against the cabinets, letting out a yelp of pain.

If he doesn't look at it, it's not real.

The end of his t-shirt is bunched up, revealing a grisly stain of blood slowly seeping from somewhere under his shirt.

If it was possible, Steven's stomach would've flipped at the sight, his body and mind thrumming with dread as the dull ache finally settles into his figurative body.

“Marc… why are you bleeding?”

“We're dying, Steven.”

His words are just as cold as the tiles, the freeze spreading through Steven's brain as he grips the reality of the situation.

“No, mate, we can't be… C'mon, we're Moon Knight, remember?”

“We're not fucking Moon Knight anymore.” Marc's words are harsh whispers through gritted teeth. “We're gonna die, and in a dingy old shit hole too… I suppose that's right for me.”

His eyes feel so droopy, and he is so tired, so so fucking tired. The lids of his eyes feel like they're closing and dragging him further towards the earth, towards the end.

“Mate… Please.” Steven's voice seems so far away, had it always been that far away? Maybe he'd always been in the back of his mind, rather than the front, never close enough for Marc to reach.

It's full of pain too, and Marc's not sure if it's from the physical pain, or the mental pain of his world suddenly crashing around him.

Leaning his head back against the cabinets, his breaths start to shallow.

“Yeah, I deserve this.” He says to himself, or maybe to Steven, if he's still there. “I always knew I'd end up like this.”

Why is he crying though? If he deserves this so much, why is he crying?

“Marc, you gotta get up. I need you to get up.”

Is he crying too? That makes sense, Steven cries at the littlest of things.

“What's it matter to you? You ain't real, Steven.”

Marc's words are like venom, spat from the cruelest creature. He knows Steven doesn't deserve that, especially in his last moments, but his brain can't seem to come up with anything else.

All he can think about as he sits on the cold tile, is how much he hates Steven. How much he hates him for having a better life, always getting the good end of the stick and never having to deal with anything else; their mom, their brother, their childhood. Steven had gotten a job, and won over someone else's wife. Marc couldn't even do that.

“I am real.”

“Shut up—” Coughing interrupts Marc's scorning, his lungs struggling to inhale any oxygen. He finally rests himself on the floor, laying on his back to stare up at the fluorescent lights; they're kind of pretty in a way. With the way his head is spinning, it makes them furl together in a beautiful dance, winding together like hungry snakes.

”This is it, we're dying.” He thinks to himself.

”finally, we're dying.”

...........................................................................

Just tagging my friends and fellow writers for np thoughts, hope you don't mind that it's something different. 🖤: @faretheeoscar @summonthesoups @ominoose @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @midgardian-witch @winniethewife @reallyrallyauthor @femmeanonymelives

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Nisha, did you know I would step on some legos barefooted for you? Anyways can’t wait to read for another fandom I have never stepped foot in and would probably never engage with the canon in just because you decided that’s what to make, and I’ve decided to read it anyways. Home cooked meal. -Rotten Anon

The opening line of this message made literal cartoon anime hearts appear above my head, just so you know <3

Also you have inspired me to post a rundown of my WIPs because I am really excited about what I have been working on. And for two of these fandoms, I know you have said you know nothing about the canon, but for the third, I am not sure, so we'll see.

My Current WIPs April/May 2024

Heaven's Gate (for The Walking Dead) - Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader. Strangers to Lovers/Soulmates/Lovers Reunited. Angst, Fluff, Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 1 to Season 5. 17k in counting (will be a oneshot). You can find a preview here. In this fic, you and Daryl get separated when the Governor attacks the prison, and though you both believe the other person is dead (or long gone) you find each other at the most unlikely time, in the most unlikely place.

I am super excited about this fic, and the themes of hope that I have woven into it. Because yes, I unironically love writing about hope and how the human spirit can persevere - which is something that my favourite moments in The Walking Dead show. This is first draft complete and just needs to be edited.

The Jaws of Life (for DC Titans) - Jason Todd x GN!Reader. Sequel to Emergency Contact. Lovers Reunited. Extreme Angst, Smut, Hurt and (some) Comfort. Set during Season 3. 21k in counting (will probably be a oneshot - if it needs to be split up, it will be put in two parts, but I hope I can get away with a oneshot). (I highly recommend that everyone go read the original in the meantime, because it is one of my best fics ever.) In this fic, you and Jason struggle with the new meaning of your relationship after what happened with Deathstroke - only for this tentative change to be harshly disrupted by the Joker. And you're still heavily mourning when a red hooded stranger breaks into your apartment one night, seeking medical care because apparently - you owe him one.

Everyone give Jaycen @nctzenkane a big fucking round of applause for this one, because he was randomly talking to me about Jason Todd today (we were having the 'some characters are only fuckable in costume' discussion) - and I got talking about how this version of Jason from Titans makes me so passionate to write about the character. And it is solely because of him that I opened up this fic and took a good look at it - I have been thinking about this fic for months, wanting to finish it because I know I am gonna be proud of it, but I kept hesitating because I thought I had a way bigger mountain to conquer with it. But the conversation I had with Jaycen really inspired me and I wrote 5k on the fic just today, and I realized that with this momentum, I could have the first draft done by the end of this month. So I am promising myself that this is gonna be done soon.

Speaking of which - when The Jaws of Life is first draft done, I wanna host a poll so you guys can decide which of those two ^^ fics goes through the editing process to be posted first. Both will be posted (hopefully) by the end of May, but I do wanna know which one you guys wanna see posted first. Which leads me to:

Nasty (for Stranger Things) - Sub!Eddie Munson x Dom!Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut/PWP. 3k (this is gonna be a shorter fic lmao). In this fic, you and Eddie have been dating for a while, but you don't like that all of his attempts to have sex with you have him taking on a (seemingly fake) dom persona. When you finally tell him that you prefer to be more dominant in bed, he isn't disgusted like you thought he might be - he loves it.

This is one I have been sitting on for a while, and right before it was ready to be posted - my brain lost interest in it like tiktok does micro trends. But I think this is gonna be really great to post while the poll for those other fics is cooking because it's short and sweet and for the past few days, whenever I have seen the cover for this in my drafts, I have gotten excited about it again. So I am excited to finish it and show it off to everyone!!

[veritable-trash]

May Our Flowers Always Bloom

guess who spent wayyyy too much time on canva making this(it's me)

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Character(unnamed, 3rd person, minimal descriptors)also this is a fantasy AU where oberyn is a forest prince, canon be damned

Summary: He could still remember the first time he saw her enter his grove. Not many dared to venture so far into the wood but she had seemed so at ease. Feet bare to the moss and dirt, flowers delicately woven in her hair, a song he’d never heard gracing her lips. 

He’d been stunned.

Word Count: 3.3K

Rating: T - no smut, though maybe there will be??? who knows, but also parental death, and at this point i think that's it. let me know if i missed something! my whole blog is 18+ anyways so kiddos SCRAM

A/N: hahahaha holy shit. it's been actually an age since i've written anything at all and then today i said fuck it we write and then i wrote this. this is a little fantasy au with my lover oberyn who i've wanted to write for AGES. canon is not really relevant here other than like general personality and such. i might write a part two, maybe make this a series, but every time i say that i never finish or write it so i'm just gonna leave this here for now and see what happens. more rambles, notes thoughts at the end but i hope you enjoy!!!! also minimally edited basically just skimmed so apologies for any mess :) <33333

masterlist woot woot

~~~~~

She had grown up at the edge of the great woods. 

A bit further from the village than maybe strictly necessary but her parents had always been a little off, at least by the town folks standards. 

They had always turned to the earth, turned to the plants to heal and guide them and she had grown with her toes wiggled into the soft dirt, hands clutching at wildflowers and weeds. She knew nothing else. Hated the noise and the chaos of the town. How people stared and whispered about the wild family out in the woods.

She never felt like she was wild. Almost felt as if the townsfolk themselves were the wild ones. But she toed the line between the “real” world and the world of her creation.

The magical realm of the woods.

Her parents had of course warned her of respecting the forest. That though they tried to live as one with all that the earth provided, there were dangers that lurked among the gnarled roots and towering pines. She must tread carefully and never, ever after dark. 

And she obeyed, but only just. Curled up against the base of the trees, writing or sewing or singing or musing, until the sun barely grazed the top most points of those towering giants high above her and the forest began to melt into darkness and secrets.

Those were her favorite moments, eyes adjusting to the low light, fireflies dancing between the trunks and leaves, the calm silence filtering its way signaling the time for rest, and for some reason she could never explain she never felt danger. Even when she would reappear from the woods, darkness having fully settled and her parents scolding her for staying out so long, she somehow knew nothing would harm her among those woods. 

She was somehow interwoven with the roots and moss and flowers and leaves. 

~~~~~

He could still remember the first time he saw her enter his grove. Not many dared to venture so far into the wood but she had seemed so at ease. Feet bare to the moss and dirt, flowers delicately woven in her hair, a song he’d never heard gracing her lips. 

He’d been stunned.

Oberyn had only just been allowed to venture in the human realm. He was still a child to his mother, the wild unruly one who could not be trusted to keep the secrets of Dorne to himself. To understand that the human realm could not know, never know, about the forest kingdom. 

For even though Oberyn could see her in the brightest light of day, she could not see him. He could only appear as one of those verdant things that always seemed to attract her attention. Only upon his knighthood could he enter the human world. 

And so he watched her. 

Sat with her in those mystic groves. Grew her beautiful flowers to pick and adorn her hair. Whispered to the lightening bugs to guide her home when she stayed till twilight. Followed her through the forest until the very edge, keeping her safe, clearing her way, making sure nothing harmed her on her return home. 

They were both so young when they stumbled upon each other in that wood, knowingly and unknowingly, and he grew to cherish those moments. He had always felt a bit different from his family. Lonely and misunderstood, and for some reason around her he felt whole. A calmness settling over his ever twitching hands that he was constantly scolded for. 

He knew he was young, infatuation fickle and deceiving, and yet he could not lie to himself that his heart somehow felt tethered to her. Even the silent companionship of reading right next to her filled the gapes between his ribs with warmth. 

He would sometimes read over her shoulder at the pages of the newest novel she was devouring, aching to know more about the world she came from. Aching to know more about this girl that haunted all of his dreams. 

If his family noticed a shift in his habits, they paid no mind, ever the youngest child, left to his own devices, but he yearned for his knighthood. Ached to be known to her somehow, for it was torture only being able to ghost soft gentle breezes across her skin. Watch her skin prickle, and the most content sigh to fall from her lips. 

He could go mad with this want. 

~~~~~

Her parents passed soon after her 18th birthday.

It had been sudden and destructive. A trip to the market for more supplies cut short by an overturned cart and poor poor timing. The village had helped her but even with such grief and suffering regarded her with distrust. 

The wild girl loosing her wild parents, it truly is no surprise. Who knows what they get up to in that little shack by the woods. Witchcraft probably. Yes, yes most likely so. 

And when the whispers and worry and pain all became too much, the wood was still always there. The first few months after her parents passing she would run there. Tripping over roots as tears overflowed in her eyes, not sparing those flowers even a second glance as she collapsed in the middle of the grove, sun filtering around her but her body feeling nothing. 

She’d dig her nails in the moss, tearing at it as she wailed to no one and nothing, aching for something to ease the pain of a loose she still did not know how to process. Would lay there, unmoving for hours on end until the numbness finally took over and she was able to walk home, unfeeling and disjointed, reality but a film over her eyes. And even in those most dire moments the wood somehow always guided her home as though the trees opened themselves up to create a path.

Her work continued, mothers came for tonics for crying babes, elders came for salves for their aching limbs, and she continued to bear the mantle her parents had trained her for all these years. She had to make coin somehow and the work steadied her. Reminded her of her mothers calming cadence listing off ingredients, her father teaching her of proper techniques for harvesting.

She grew many years in the span of only a few months, but she had to hardened. Had to strengthen her spine and learn to be sure in herself even when it felt like all her threads were fraying. 

The woods were all that saved her in those trying moments.

It was somehow always warm and soothing, wild flowers littering her path as she traveled aimlessly to cleanse her mind. Picking them one by one to build the most beautiful bouquet that would grace her work table in the cottage. It was a ritual for her at this point in her life, always returning to that sacred groove that somehow gave her the greatest peace she’d ever known. Where worries seemed to melt into the soil beneath her feet and lighten the load on her shoulders just a touch. Always a gentle breeze to remind her of the wonders of the wood. The calm that could be found there. 

Her strides back home were always a touch more assured, a touch lighter, and she somehow knew it was all going to be alright somewhere in the end. And every time she’d step out of the wood, she would always turn around and whisper,

Thank you.

~~~~~

You’re welcome flower. 

He was taller than her now, able to look down into her eyes when she whispered those simple two words that set his heart racing. Sometimes it even seemed like she was looking right at him, eyes somehow connecting even between the realms, though he knew it was not true. 

He’d been at a loss when she’d first stumbled into their grove, tears staining her cheeks. He could not understand what plagued her. Was it heartbreak? Had she loved another? Had they hurt her so? 

It had sent him into a rage he’d never felt before. The jealousy, the want, no the need to hurt whoever had hurt his flower overwhelmed him till he could barely see straight. 

His hands had ghosted over her hunched spine, he’d whispered his sorrow for her suffering and it only drove him crazier.

The knowledge that she felt none of it. Wasn’t able to hear a single word. 

He grew her flowers, sent her breezes, shifted the very earth of the groove to cradle her in the plushest of moss and yet her eyes seemed to register none of it. 

They were hollow and vacant, the pain seeming to have sucked every twinkle that had made his heart skip.

But he never stopped trying.

He couldn’t stop. His flower, as he’d started calling her, was suffering a pain he could not understand but he could try and fix. 

Though he was still but a boy, he wanted to be a man for her. 

He grew brighter blooms, lined a path for her to walk to and from the groove, sent breezes filled with orange blossom and spiced earth to ease her heart, used his powers, though still weak, in every way he knew how, and slowly he saw his flower blooming once again.

The first time she’d picked a flower after that never ending winter of pain, he almost shed a tear. Her eyes had sparkled just slightly and she’d tucked it behind her ear, the softest hum of content gracing his ears. 

He felt as though he had slain the greatest beast that ever lived. 

~~~~~

It had been two years almost to the day after her parents passing that the forest had shifted.

She didn’t know how to explain it but the air between the trees no longer smelled of orange blossoms and cinnamon. 

It just smelled like the dirt and decaying leaves and dampness that came with the forest. 

There were no flowers lining the way to that ever calming clearing like she had grown so accustomed to. No soft breeze pushing her along. 

She couldn’t understand it, and even more perplexing was the single most beautiful flower that she found growing in the center of groove.

A lone sprig of forget-me-nots trembling in a breeze that only held the faintest notes of that orange blossom that she had known for the past two years. 

Something in her heart stirred, body growing both cold and hot all at once, unsure of how to understand what this shift, this change all meant. 

It felt almost blasphemous to pick the flower, and yet she couldn’t leave it all alone in this place that no longer felt like a home to her. So she delicately clipped it at its base and turned around and walk back to the cottage. 

The journey took longer than usual, no guiding flowers or friendly lighting bugs to guide her, and her heart sank further as though she had lost something great once again. 

She gently pressed the flower between the pages of her most treasured journal clutching it to her chest as she watched the forest, as if waiting for something to emerge, the sparkle to return, for the forest to feel like hers again.

But as the sun sank behind the treetops and the sky shifted into the darkness, the forest did not call to her. 

It was the first time in a very, very long time that she truly felt alone.

~~~~~

Oberyn had both not wanted to leave and ached eternally to start his quests. He knew what it meant to turn 20. To reach the age where knighthood must be found in a man, for he had longed for this day all his life.

But watching the confusion and pain on her face as she left the forest that day felt like a knife in his gut. A weeping wound that he did not know he would survive. 

He had been foolish to leave the flower, he knew that. Risky and impulsive and dangerous to say the least but he could not leave her without somehow saying goodbye. Without somehow showing her that he would come back, that he could never stay away from her for too long, but he could not foretell how long his quests would be. No way of knowing where he would go, who he would meet, the man he would become in the distant realms.

There was war out there, struggle and strife, and he knew his family expected greatness from him. When Doran, his older brother, had returned from his journeys, he came back with prestige and honor, but he had also come back with an illness that it seemed no one could heal.

What if Oberyn was left like his brother after his journeys? How many years would he be gone? What if he could not return to his flower? What if she left the forests edge to never be found again?

He could barely sleep the days leading up to his departure, and those final moments with her in the groove brought him to his knees. 

He knew he was young, knew that loves came and went and that there would maybe be others for him to love, but something about her called to him in ways he had never understood. And yet if he wished to truly be with her, to brush the delicate skin of her cheeks, to hear her say his name, to feel the warmth of her skin against his, he had to go. He had to toil and suffer and fight and return back to this place and finally reveal himself to her as he has always wished to.

That was the only way. 

And so a flower he left. A memento of their many years together that she knew nothing about but maybe someday would learn of when the time was right. 

~~~~~

She didn’t exactly avoid the forest after that strange day, but she didn’t tempt the fates so to speak.

There was a change in the energy of the forest, a boundary of sorts she had never felt, cutting her off from something. She no longer stayed into the twilight hours, returning earlier and earlier from her scavenging and harvesting, and even stranger was she hadn’t been able to find her groove. 

It was as though it had disappeared completely, a figment of her imagination. The trees looked the same, the path well worn by her own two feet and yet she could never seem to reach it. It always seemed just around the next bend and it made her brain wobble. 

Her reality was somehow shifting and changing, as though those years after her parents passing had been just a daydream. But now she knew how to survive loss. Knew how to put her head down, focus on her work, her garden, the townspeople, her home. One day in town on an errand she had stumbled upon a scruffy little kitten, skittish and hungry, and had wrapped him up in her arms and brought him home. 

Viper and her were inseparable from that day forth. 

And though every so often she would stare at the forests edge, a wistful sigh escaping her lips, there was a life to be lived. Her life. A life that she had been neglecting for too long and had been too afraid to start.   

Life became a bit easier after that. The realization of wanting a future that made her proud, that would have made her parents proud, focusing her and giving her new purpose. She was no longer that wild girl of her youth, but a woman of healing to those in need. The valley she lived in wasn’t extremely large, but there were enough children with runny noses and achy joints to keep her busy and fulfilled. 

The days, months, even years began to pass in calm waves, time lapping at the shores of her life, peace finding its way back in her heart, her soul.

Though every once in awhile loneliness would come again. A chill in her spine reminding her of all that she had lost, all that she could never have, and the only balm in those moments was pressed between the pages of that old weathered journal. Even years later there still remained a trace of that orange blossom spice between those pages and somehow the blue of the flower remained true. 

She sometimes would worry that one day she would open the journal and the flower would be gone, all traces of those memories erased as if they never existed, but that day never came.

~~~~~

His quest seemed never-ending. The distances he traveled unfathomable even to his understanding. 

It felt like there was no land he had not traversed as he fought and learned and matured. 

A lanky boy no longer but a man, roughened, shaped, cut, molded, and broken apart only to be thrown back together again.

He thought of his flower more often than he cared to admit.

~~~~~

It was the 10 year anniversary of her parents passing. 

A lifetime so it seemed and yet the ache still lingered fresh every year on the day. 

She knew it always would and now after so much time it was more comforting than painful, knowing that she would always hold them close in her heart. The pain now a symbol of love not suffering. 

That morning had felt strangely fresh, the air lighter around her as the sun rose above the mountains, an unidentifiable familiarity weaving through the breeze. 

She entered the forest as she always did, though there was no plan for this walk. No need to scavenge, no pressure to look for fresh herbs. This walk was to mourn, to honor her parents and the memories she held of them in this sacred place. 

Weaving between the trees, it somehow felt new to her, like the light had shifted once again, coloring the path before her in the richest of greens. She closed her eyes for just a moment and could almost hear her mothers laugh echo between the branches and leaves above her. A lone tear trickling down her cheek as she couldn’t help but smile at the thought. 

As she aimlessly moved through the forest, she got lost in her own mind. The memories of so many moments flashing before her as she pondered all that she had lived through. A life so full and yet, today, as it happened every year, she felt lonely. No longer achingly so, but still, there was a life she still desired that had never presented itself to her. 

A love like her parents had.

She was no nun by any means, but no one had ever grasped her attention the way she had always dreamed. Maybe she was fickle, cold and reserved, but her heart had suffered much and for some reason no one had ever felt right. 

Her mind continued to weave through her memories, the forest thickening around her as she traveled deeper and deeper into the green. It had been a long time since she had gone this far, but today it felt ok to keep going. As though a solid hand lay at the base of her spine guiding her gently along. 

All of a sudden the tree line broke, that ancient grove appearing before her once more as though it had been waiting for her arrival. 

Her breath stalled in her chest as memories came flooding back faster and faster. The tears, the flowers, the pain, the joy, the tranquility, the confusion, the comfort, the love. 

She collapsed to the soft mossy floor, the feelings bringing back the strongest deja vu, burying her head in her hands as tears blurred her vision. It felt like some kind of dream, some inexplicable moment of fiction. 

Then the breeze kicked up and she smelled it.

Orange blossoms and cinnamon.

And as she opened her eyes, tears tracking down her cheeks, she saw him. 

A man too beautiful to be real crouching before her, a look of devastating devotion etched in his golden irises.

“Hello my flower.”

~~~~~

whoop whoop of course i left it on a cliffhanger come on now it's the best way to do it :))))))) anyways lifes been kinda crazy and so writing has just been not a priority but i had a lot of fun writing this. i definitely don't like writing dialogue hence ending at this point because there haven't been any interactions between these two BUT i missed this and want to push myself to write again and maybe this is the perfect way to do it. so maybe they will interact soonish who really knows <3 reblogs comments are like super duper appreciated and loved so if you liked it or have thoughts or generally just wanna ramble about how hot this man is come hit my line! anyways hugs kisses the whole gambut of affection and maybe i'll be writing to ya soon <333333333

[leafcabbage]

Oh now I'm really interested in what kind of direction you would have taken drdi to if you'd had a smaller audience 👀 is there anything (like, in the past, maybe something you would do if you were to rewrite today) you would like to share, or is it still too personal/stressful?

hello anon! i will answer your question now that i do not have a migraine. maybe that was a sign from god that i shouldn't but im past the part of my life where i draw a tarot spread for every decision i make.

this ended up a little long so heres a readmore

anyway! so like the major story wouldn't change to be clear. drdi isnt super far off from what i would do. there are two kinds of like... differences there would be. the first is changes i would make now that im not as entrenched in the fandom expectations/fanon, and the other is things that i still may not be fully doing because not everyone is as chill as my tumblr audience.

in the first category - i wouldnt have any of SBI as family, adopted or otherwise. id have a lot more variety in ages on top of that, but yeah, phil wouldnt be wilburs dad. im kind of adjusting that as much as i can within the confines of what i gave myself to work with, but its limited. i was never even like... an SBI as a family fan. that was never super up my alley. it just seemed to be the general understanding of them so its what i wrote. i dont know exactly what id do because i try not to dwell too much on things i cant change. id have more phil in general, i shot myself in the foot making him a professor, because every time i use him now im like "fuck. what about ethics." im kinda bummed about everything with phil thus far and i need to pick myself up and figure it out.

as for stuff now... there are things that will always be canon to me that MIGHT be written in if by the time i get around to them the fandom is even More chilled out, but i am hesitant. for one, the trio's relationship would include more. kissing and stuff. gonna be honest here. still a qpr but like im in a qpr and we kiss. just generally would be less worried about what does and does not happen in it. also theres stuff (csa) in tubbos past im really back and forth on including because its a sensitive topic. like to me its canon but i dont know if ill straightforward write it or just allude to it and let yall figure it out. im not sure. theres some other stuff im not gonna include in my answer here but hey any of my pals on here are welcome to ask for more :]

im trying to get less uncertain about including the (sometimes gross!) realities of medical stuff. like ive made big strides in including some stuff for sure, and i think that shows and will continue to show as time goes on, but i guess we will see!

theres plenty of other little things that i go back and forth on but thats what mainly comes to mind! thanks for being interested :]

[tjerra14]

Fic Author Self-Rec!

Been tagged by @foibles-fables and @finrays, thank you so much guys!!!

The Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Might find some of the usual suspects among these, plus some Dragon Age because my urge to dive back into Thedas is growing with each passing day, as well as the panic that I might have mislaid my notes for both A Little Faith and As They Slept for good, which would be a goddamn waste because I really, really want to finish those two some day. Well. Not today, anyway. Here you go:

Transposition (Horizon Zero Dawn/Forbidden West, T, 6.6k words)

There's not enough Banuk content in HFW if you ask me, and certainly not enough Ikrie, so here's me attempting to change it. While giving Aloy the stern talking-to about her constant running that she desperately needs.

Delineation (Horizon Zero Dawn, T, 5.4k words)

A project that has been very close to my heart for years. I've always been fascinated by Ikrie's and Mailen's relationship as it is portrayed by the game, and since we only see the very end of it, I've never quite stopped wondering: what came before? This fic is my take on it. Also featuring a metric (bs)-ton of Banuk headcanons that may or may not make any sense at all.

Linger (Horizon Zero Dawn/Forbidden West, T, 5.7k words)

Aloy working up the courage to ask Ikrie to leave the Frozen Wilds with her and follow her into the unknown. The second fic I wrote for Horizon, and my first one ever in present tense. It was absolutely not meant to be Aloy's goodbye tour before leaving for the Forbidden West, nor was it supposed to feature Talanah that heavily, but some things just happen and some characters just insert themselves into my fics sometimes. It will happen again.

Latency (Horizon Zero Dawn/Forbidden West, T, 1.9k words)

Essentially a sister fic to Linger, from Ikrie's perspective. A few moments of reflection before the truth.

His Word (Dragon Age Inquisition, T, 5k words)

A somewhat late/post-Trespasser examination of my Inquisitor Having Had It™. With Veilguard just around the corner, I'm curious to see how the brainworms that lead to this one's existence will hold up in canon. (Also, writing Solas is still. A challenge.)

Not sure who is left to tag, so gonna take the easy way out here: if you see this and want to do it, consider me your tagger!

[elizabethshaw]

20 questions for writers

i was tagged by @riversofmars (thank you!!)... feel like a little bit of a fraud doing this as i've had major writer's block for nearly two years now and have written virtually nothing during that time, but i'm gonna give it a go anyway 😅

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

14 :))

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

46,344

3. What fandoms do you write for?

doctor who! mostly leaning towards dweu/big finish stuff but i've written some new who fic as well in the past. (i've also been wanting to write something for the pleasant green universe audio series for a while now but as my major fixations on it have all coincided with the aforementioned writer's block that... hasn't happened lmao)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Wy' ti'n dal i weld cysgodion yn y nos? (67 kudos)

in it together (23 kudos)

The Security Guard, The Scholar, And The Giant Stone Cube (22 kudos)

I Lie Awake And Watch It All (19 kudos)

og um vitt aldrin síggjast meir (18 kudos)

predictably, this includes all of the new who fics i've written, and (bar the third) almost none of the fics i'm actually most proud of lol 😅

(also feel a need to clarify here that the foreign-language titled fics are not actually in those languages, i just use song lyrics as titles a lot and for various reasons over half the music i listen to at any given moment is Not In English, hence the titles being as they are)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try to! sometimes i'm a bit delayed with it (i know there's a couple i need to get around to answering rn but before today i hadn't been on my ao3 for... half a year at least?? so i'm a bit behind oops), but i like to get back to everyone who leaves a comment, just to say thanks :)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

probably hver fer sinn veg - it's set during "the war doctor begins", it was never going to be a happy one lol

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

gei di weld y byd mewn lliw, i think :)

8. Do you get hate on fic?

thankfully no! i've been lucky enough that my experience with fic writing/sharing has been very positive so far <3

9. Do you write smut?

no, it's not really my thing. smut is very honestly just kinda there to me, i don't have strong feelings about it either way, and so it's not something i've ever felt compelled to write yknow??

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

nope! i mainly prefer playing around with canon/canon-adjacent stuff tbh, i've got a couple of unfinished aus hanging around that will probably never see the light of day, but no crossovers that i can think of

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not as far as i'm aware. though to be fair, i don't venture onto fic websites other than ao3 so i'll never know for certain. i doubt it though

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

again, not as far as i know! i'd probably be chill with it though if anyone wanted to translate a fic of mine, provided they asked beforehand and it was one i was comfortable with being translated :)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope! the closest i've got is participating in an event run by a discord server i used to be mildly active in and am technically still part of, which was a lot of fun :D

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

i don't know if i really have an "all-time" favourite as such, but i've written a fair bit for liv and helen from the 8das, and really love their dynamic. i'm also a big fan of leela/romana, but for whatever reason i've never been quite able to make writing them work :/

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

there's a fair few 😅 the main one I can think of atm is the eldritch helen fic i vaguely remember being asked about on here a couple of years back, it's a concept that i still have a lot of interest in and love for, but i've never quite been able to get the fic itself to work and i fear it may be doomed to the wip pit for eternity :((

i've also got quite a few unfinished pieces of varying lengths with the war-veklin-albert tardis team from "the war doctor begins" hanging around my drive that i'd a) love to finish and b) probably won't; their dynamic and their whole deal as a team whose story takes place mostly off-screen and which we only see the ending of fascinates me. maybe one day i'll manage to do something with it

16. What are your writing strengths?

description :) this is the one thing i am ever consistently happy with in my writing (i am my own harshest critic <3), and i've got a couple of nice comments about it before. so!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

dialogue - even with characters i know well and whose voices i have clear in my head, i do find it difficult to make dialogue feel really authentic, and it's definitely something i tend to overly fixate on when i'm writing because i'm so conscious of wanting to get it right

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i'm totally fine with it! as long as it has a reason for being in the story, and isn't like. getting in the way of readers understanding what's going on, i don't see the problem.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

doctor who :)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

it's probably a tie between The Security Guard, The Scholar, And The Giant Stone Cube (a fic i wrote back in 2021 based on this post about rory and helen theoretically being able to meet each other at the national museum during the pandorica arc, which i loved writing and am still really happy with nearly 3 years later), and mae cuddio dagrau yn fy ngwaed (a bit of a weirder/darker dreamscape-type story; it took a lot of puzzling things out to piece all the different parts together to make something that was cohesive but still felt strange or off in the way dreams do, but i was really pleased with the end result!)

can't think of anyone to tag off the top of my head who hasn't been tagged already, so i'll leave this free for anyone to take part if they want to! :)

[unbridledbrainrots]

Happy Happiest Birthday to you, my dear Sebby!

Hold on... if we use canon, then today marks his 180th birthday. Oh my! But to me, who prefers not to acknowledge time, he is eternal in both positive and negative ways. And I think that's just the beauty of him, the beauty of Sebastian Moran, the beauty of Grim Reaper. He is such a complex person, often misunderstood but somehow unapologetic. He is practical, but ironically his feelings are never practical. Maybe that's because of his doomed upbringing, maybe that's also why flings are his things. Ah... I always think of him as bisexual. His mum died so early, and his father was abusive to him, so he seeks solace in his classmates, seniors, prostitutes, comrades... though it's only temporary, at least he feels validated.

He is a nice bloke (and will always be). He is a nice bastard (and will always be). He is just someone who longs for home. Home is no longer home after her death. Home is no longer home after his own death. Home is William, MI6, and Universal Exports.

Oh, my apologies for talking too much!

Anyway, arts above are drawn by the fantastic zuppasoep on Twitter. Thank you so much for creating these masterpieces! ❤️ I love it when my man looks drop-dead gorgeous... as usual! 🫣 Yes, inspo is from myucon teaser; I love it so much that I want him with unbuttoned shirt. WITH UNBUTTONED SHIRT. SHOW ME YOUR ASSETS, DARLING!!!!!

Ah, now I'm talking too much again... I'm sorry! I just love—even love is an understatement for his majestic tiddies... heheh tiddies... 🤤🥵

Oh, oh... alright, for this year, it's just something simple. The birthday merch from Jump Shop will arrive probably next month, so it's gonna be in the next celebration.

I'm not a fan of sweets, hence why there is no cake in this household. This time, I made PP—potato and pumpkin—gnocchi from scratch. I know it looks unappetizing, but trust me it's really good... I'm a home cook after all!

It's basically a homemade meal for someone who longs for home. I'm pretty sure sometimes he craves it (with exception of stargazy pie).

Now how many times I've apologised? Ah, well... I'm sorry if the pictures are kinda off as it's always raining after lunch. Speaking of rain, there is a song that I like to associate with him. No, it's not Guns N' Roses' November Rain... I mean, yeah, sometimes I listen to that song, but I'm speaking as a woman here. I swear just listen... listen carefully so you'll understand what I mean.

To conclude the celebration, I made a small donation for Sumatran tiger conservation (about IDR 211.000) just two days before his birthday. Honestly, it's started off as a shower thought. Then, the more I think about it—with current situation that rapidly concerns me so much—the more I have to make it happen.

And thus... Tigerly Wild Project! I wrote a separate post about it, and it's much clearer there (I hope so).

Now I understand why he is just as wonderful as tiger himself...

Oh, that's all! That's all! I have to end this before it gets too long and endless.

Once again, happiest birthday to you, my muse, my man, Colonel Sebastian Moran! 🐯🎂❤️

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

hi I’m here to review the Clementine comic. it’s not good.

Does this even need an introduction? You know why I’ve gathered you all here today. You know the comic exists, and you probably know that it’s not great and we’re all upset about it. 

Myself included. I am not okay. At all. 

Skybound could’ve literally spit in my face and I’d come out feeling better than I did reading this comic, because this comic is an insult to the original Telltale games and Clementine as a character. 

This comic is a fancy fanfic. Glorified fanfiction. It’s not canon, and Skybound and Tillie can pretend that it is, but it’s not. Bold of them to assume we’d just accept this from people who didn’t work on the original games and never wrote for Clementine before, and based on this comic alone, any chance of us taking it seriously is gone. 

I’m gonna go through every single page, every panel, of this comic and give you my review. So I guess if you’re worried about spoilers [though at this point why would you?] then be warned, spoilers for the entire comic ahead. 

I also wanna add that I have nothing against Tillie Walden. I know a lot of dingdongs are harassing her on insta over this comic and that’s not okay. You telling her how much you hate her isn’t going to change anything. If anything, you keep being assholes to her and she’s just gonna block everything out, even things simply critiquing her work in hopes that it helps her improve. 

You’re allowed to be upset about the comic and share your feelings about it, but don’t take it out on the actual human being like that. Besides, like I’ve said before, if Tillie wasn’t gonna make the comic, Skybound would’ve found someone else to do. This was coming no matter what because Skybound wants that coin. 

That being said, I’m not going to hold back my opinions on this comic. Skybound and Tillie made this comic, they put it out there and asked for money for it, therefore I’m allowed to explain why it’s garbage as well as ponder over the questionable intent and whether or not Tillie actually has played these games. Y’know, it’s like how I have nothing against Kent, but sometimes he says things I disagree with and well, y’know how it goes. 

Alright, this is gonna be long, so let’s go--

The first few shots we get are of the school, two people sleeping, and Clementine’s empty bed. Nothing super note-worthy, we have no idea who is sleeping in the beds, it’s just there to establish that it’s early and everyone’s still asleep. 

The drawing of the school looks fine? Not super accurate, but I can give it a pass since it’s a few years later, I assume. What I can’t give a pass is how you managed to already mess up on the first page of your comic. 

Because..... why are you implying that Clementine’s room is upstairs? First of all, seems kinda dumb to put Clem, who has only one leg and has to walk with crutches, upstairs. Also, if you’ve played TFS and paid any attention to where her room is actually located [the dorms] then you’d know there isn’t any stairs leading to their floor. It’s the side building next to the admin building, you walk through the door, go down the hall, take a left and their dorm is right there sooo..... 

Oh right, it’s probably done this way so that we can have such a suspenseful moment where Clementine is sneaking out while the others are asleep and her foot makes a creeeeeeakk that could wake everyone up, thwarting her plans of abandoning everyone quietly so she doesn’t have to deal with any consequences. 

Because yeah, Clementine is sneaking out with all of her supplies because apparently, she’s been planning an escape from this place for a while. 

And just look at how gosh darn happy she is about it. You can’t see or hear me, but know that I’m laughing. Don’t worry, I will talk about her abandoning everyone later.

But first, I have a gripe with Clementine's design in this comic. It doesn’t look like her. This art of her right here is the most accurate we get throughout all 12 pages, and it’s the best looking, too. 

Moving on, she slams the door shut while this walker changes faces and hair between panels, so that’s cool. I will say, I like the idea of the Ericson crew putting spikes on the door. That’s fun. 

Though Clementine slamming the door shut while trying to sneak out seems counter productive but it fits with the theme this comic has of inconsistency, so it works. 

Next we have Clementine going to what I believe is the fishing shack by the river, and she’s going through some things that she’s stashed away, telling us that she’s been planning this escape for a while. 

Oh good, she has a map. Well at least now she won’t get lost out there in the woods while she makes her escape... also that last panel with her profile.... why does it look so funny? Like this page of the comic doesn’t look too bad, but there is something off putting about her eye there and how she has zero expression. 

And it turns out that rustle was a walker, and Clementine is super inconvenienced by this and gives us our first piece of witty dialogue.

Yeah you dumb walker, can’t you see Clementine is busy running away from home and abandoning all of her loved ones without a single goodbye so she doesn’t have to witness the consequences of her selfish actions?? Gosh, so rude.

Just a heads up, the dialogue in this comic is stilted, emotionless, and bland. The words have no flow, no charm, and never feel like they should be coming out of Clementine’s mouth. Then again, the upcoming graphic novels this is tied to are for young adult/middle graders so I guess we have to dumb everything down so their baby brains can process it. 

.....Why does her face look like that? Also, interesting that she decided to move her ponytail to the other side of her head.... which is a thing that happens throughout this comic, her hair will randomly change sides. 

I believe it’s a metaphor for her changing and inconsistent personality. 

So yeah, Clementine is just making off with the supplies she gathered [I’m sure Ericson doesn’t need ‘em anyway] and she’s just so gosh darn annoyed at all these small inconveniences bothering her.... because it’s just too early for this. 

.....Again, why does her face look like that?

I’m sorry, like I get it, Tillie’s style is supposed to be purposely messy yet minimal but it doesn’t work. When you do a comic in a more messy style, usually it has charm and heart put into it. Effort goes into the messy look, and when things are minimal, that usually means more clean, yeah? So you put them together and just..... that is nothing resembling Clementine’s face. 

Can we just--

Look at canon Clementine’s face. Look at the way her eyebrows are shapes, how wide her eyes are with her eye lashes. The dirt on her skin, the lines-- there is so much personality in her features. It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing a neutral expression or she’s expressing anger or joy or sorrow or whatever. 

Now, is it fair to compare a model of Clem from the games to the Clem in this comic? Well, I assume that if Tillie is doing this comic, she would use references from the game to ensure that Clementine is recognizable, especially now that she’s no longer wearing her signature hat. 

So why does she look like this? Why do I look at these drawings of her face and see nothing but a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth? You might as well draw me a simple smiley face. And I get that it’s a comic, and it’s a lot of work to draw the same character over and over again and you gotta cut corners somewhere, but maybe put some effort into the close up shots of her face so that we can actually see it’s her? 

Other fan artists have made comics in their styles that shine bright with Clementine’s personality, so what happened here? 

Anyway, surprise..... it’s not a walker annoying Clementine. 

........Why does AJ look like that??? I’m sorry, I hate to do the same thing I just did but--

Just because you put Clementine’s hat on AJ that doesn’t automatically make it him. I just.... wow. This feels like there wasn’t a single reference involved, like if someone gave Tillie a basic description of AJ and she just did this. 

But appearances aside, what is AJ saying? He says that he knew it, that Clementine’s leaving and I cannot stand this dialogue. It’s unnatural. Again, I know you wanna dumb it down for all of us because I guess we dumb.... but this conversation does not feel natural. 

“I knew it. You’re leaving.” “AJ....” “I’m coming.”

Even if you changed it to, “I’m coming with you.” it would sound more natural. Hell, he doesn’t even question WHY she’s leaving, he just stands there like “I’m coming” like??? I’m sorry, have you ever heard a single word this murder baby has said? I assume you have because I assume you actually played TFS, right? Soooo.... what happened here?

.....whY DO THEIR FACES LOOK LIEK THAT KSAJDLKJAS:LKDJLKASJD:L--

So now we’re getting into it.... into the bullshit. 

Clementine tells AJ to go back to the school, and AJ says that she wasn’t even going to say goodbye..... and then more bad dialogue that sound unnatural when you try to fucking read it. 

First off.... AJ’s reaction to Clementine attempting to leave is barely anything. Again, I hate to keep questioning if you actually played TFS, but AJ would throw a fucking fit if he caught Clementine out here ALONE like this, attempting to leave. 

And then he says “Like last time? You were going to come back?” this sentence makes my brain hurt. I just.... “Like last time, right? You’re coming back?” UGH

Wow, I feel nothing. 

I’m sitting here watching these two imposters with fucked up faces who are supposed to be Clementine and AJ and I feel nothing. 

I’m not even going to comment on the faces anymore. You can see it. You know. 

So yeah... AJ tells her the #1 rule, and reminds her that she promised.

Y’know.... she promised that she would never leave him again? Remember? At the McCarroll ranch? That flashback that was in TFS? The one you would watch if you played the game? 

Why is she looking straight at me when she should be looking at AJ as she says this? Is this Clementine’s way of telling me she’s sorry for what a shitty direction this is taking? I wouldn’t know because her face isn’t doing anything. Just because you draw a couple of tears that doesn’t mean I’m feeling the emotional heartbreak you’re attempting to convey. 

I don’t have enough middle fingers for this.

Well, my hat’s off to you. Ya did it. Ya fucked up everything single part of Clementine’s character in the span of two pages, I’m almost impressed. 

First off, the baby thing is weird. Why is she calling him that? She’s never called him that, which you should know.

Second, she’s not happy and that’s why she’s leaving. Clementine isn’t happy, and AJ can’t make her happy. Ericson can’t make her happy. So she’s going to go out on the road to.... what, be unhappy by herself? 

I’m sorry, but apparently we need a few reminders here of who Clementine is, because this isn’t her. 

This is Clementine. 

Clementine fought for years to find a home, something she hasn’t had since she was an eight-year-old girl before the apocalypse. The motor-inn wasn’t a home, the cabin wasn’t home, the ski-lodge, Howe’s, Wellington, Richmond, Prescott, none of them were home. 

She struggled for years, dealing with trauma after trauma while out on the road. She went from group to group, watching people she cared about die and she was powerless to do anything about it. Whenever she let her guard down and become comfortable, it bit in her in the ass and left her heartbroken.

She was there when AJ was born. She grew close to Rebecca while she was pregnant, she let herself do that even after everything she went through with Christa. Clementine had a bond with AJ even before he was born, and after Rebecca died, she did what she could to keep him safe, despite play choice. 

She cried when she thought AJ died and when she found him in that car again. She swore to protect him, to raise him right and love him. All they had was each other. 

And when she joined the new frontier and AJ got sick, she risked everything to save him and she was devastated when they took him away from her. When she found out he was alive, she is willing to go as far as helping Lingard overdose [INJECTING HIM HERSELF IF SHE HAS TO] to figure out his location. She did shitty things to find him, she killed people at McCarroll Ranch to find him again. 

Clementine raised him and he is her family, do you understand that? She went to hell and back for him, she taught him how to protect himself, and even though she made mistakes she sacrificed everything for him. She promised him that they would have a home of their own one day, she talked about how much she wished for a world where she didn’t have to worry about fighting and killing and AJ could just be a happy kid. 

She fought for Ericson, she watched her friends die or become mutilated by someone from her past. She allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to pursue a romantic relationship with Louis or Violet because she felt safe with them, felt safe at Ericson because it’s their home now. 

And when Clementine was bit, she thought she was going to die but she still fought to make sure AJ would be safe and happy without her and it was heartbreaking. She’s dying and the only thing she cares about is AJ. Not herself, not what’s going to happen to her after she dies or turns... no, she tries to make AJ smile again, she makes sure he remembers the rules, and she tells him that she loves him. 

Then he cuts off her leg, and she survives. AJ saved her fucking life, and she got to wake up at home and live to see her family again. She got to push AJ on a tire swing, she got to eat a hot meal and laugh with her friends, she got to make plans with her lover/best friend for what’s next for Ericson, and she got to talk to AJ and tell him the truth... and she asked him if she did a good job, and he’s honest with her right back. 

Hell, she tells him to keep her hat. Her iconic hat. The one thing she has left of her father, possibly her more cherished item. She lets him keep it. 

The last time we see Clementine, she’s happy. She’s sitting on the steps by herself, staring at her family with such fondness in her eyes and a smile on her face because she finally did it. She finally found a home where she can breathe. She has a bed to sleep in, she has AJ with her, she has a boyfriend/girlfriend who loves her and who she loves back, she has friends she can rely on. 

Clementine smiles, and lets out a small laugh. 

She doesn’t have to run anymore. 

And now you have the balls to tell me that AJ and Ericson don’t make Clementine happy anymore. 

She abandons everything to go back out on the road again, and that’s proof enough for me that you don’t understand a damn thing about Clementine or her journey. 

“ I don't even know the person I'm talking about... It's like all we have in common is the same name.” 

....Anyway.

Wow, Clementine found a car and kept is stashed. How lazy and convenient for this bullshit plot. 

And this is the part where I have to tell this comic to fuck off. 

What, you think if you throw in an incredibly inaccurate flashback next to a current pair of hugging Clem and AJ that I’ll feel anything but anger? That flashback is a slap to the face. It’s snowing, but the only time we’ve seen snow is in S2 when AJ was a literal new born, so why is he that big? Is that supposed to be from ANF because that ALSO doesn’t look like that AJ, and that’s not the outfit Clementine had on... AND there was no snow. This is cheap and meaningless. 

Any fan of the series who has played through the games could tell you this. 

So.... AJ runs into the woods and then we get this garbage.

This comic is awful. It misses the point of everything TFS, and the rest of the series, stood for. There is no heart here. I feel no happiness in reading it, and I don’t detect any passion behind it. It’s a lifeless comic that retcons everything in order to throw AJ away and start fresh with a new adventure for Clementine that makes no sense because the cow isn’t profitable unless it’s milked. 

This isn’t canon, and it won’t ever be canon, and honestly? At this point, I have no faith in the graphic novel trilogy. It will take a lot to do a turn around from this, and I don’t even know if that’s possible. 

Again, to reiterate, I don’t have anything personal against Tillie Walden herself. She’s just doing her job, and from what I’ve seen of her as a person, she seems like a sweetheart. I don’t want anyone giving her shit because I think the comic isn’t good or that you agree with me. All of my anger is directed at the comic itself, her work, not specifically her.... and a little bit at Skybound, because they’re the reason this is even a thing in the first place. 

So yeah.... there ya have it. 

[fnf-amateur-writing]

Hey! It’s Fox again! How are you doing? I just started school back up today, so I’ve been busy Xp.

Think you would be cool with writing some Pico with an s/o who is a writer, and tends to ask him about things like “hey, how long does it take someone to bleed out” or other things like that?

I understand if you don’t feel like it, and I hope you’re having fun 😊

🦊

Hello again Fox, I'm doing quite well rn. I'm cool with your prompt, especially since I need more writing material anyways.

Took me a while, because I didn't want to do a hc, but rather come up with a oneshot with a little twist to the style. Well, hope it works well.

Good luck with school, mate!

TW: Mentions of violence, swearing, slight sexual reference, and crime.

Pico with a writer S/O who asks him strange questions

Prologue:

On a chilly autumn morning, you were sitting out on your patio with a laptop and a mug of your favourite beverage next to you. Whenever you looked up, you could see the warm coloured leaves fall as the breeze accompanied you. The whole scene was an aesthetic.

When your boyfriend, Pico, came outside to see this, he knew that the nice environment you surrounded yourself with meant one thing. "You're back in your writing space already. Heh, with that bestseller you published, I thought you were comfy taking a break." You simply smiled and said, "can't waste the inspiration rush I got right now."

Pico had a good point though, with your rising popularity as an author, you were near set to retire before turning fourty. But you wish you weren't given all of the credit, since your boyfriend's stories of his dodgy job has occasionally sparked some ideas for your stories. However the books you wrote in the past were usually meant for the young adult and had few mature themes. This time, you thought maybe it's time to garner extra inspiration from those stories.

You were met with some disappointment when you realised that your mug was empty, only a drop entering your mouth. "Here, babe, I'll ya some more," Pico said, taking your mug and walking inside. "Quick question," you stopped him. "Yeah?"

"What would be the best place for a murder cemetery?"

"... What?"

Chapter 1:

"So you're doing some story about the police hunting down a mass murderer?"

"Pretty much."

"And to think you were gonna write Pixar's next script. Aight' I respect that." Pico takes a seat next to you with a refill of your drink placed next to your favourite writing laptop. "Thanks, Pico. But yeah, I want to branch out to something edgier, and I think you can help too."

"Let me show you what I've got so far." You showed him some of your notes in a little notepad document, detailing the story thus far and your current plans for this chapter. "Oh, that's it? Just looks like boring police preparation mainly," Pico commented. "Yeah, it's not much right now. But it'll get juicy later." "And bloody?" "And bloody."

"Welp, I'm gonna head back in," Pico got up, "let me know if you need anything." He head back inside, closing the door, but then opened it almost immediately afterwards. Pico stuck his head out, "by the way, the guy should use some strong alcohol or something to throw off those sniffer dogs."

Chapter 2:

"And then, because they used a silencer, the police don't immediately notice the--"

"Nope! I'm calling bullshit (Y/N)!" Pico had suddenly interrupted your explanation of the scene you were currently working on. "Silencers can help prevent some hearing loss, sure, but they're not magic."

"Alright," you reply, "no silencer, but the killer still has to kill in a way to not get blood on them, so I thought shooting and killing them from a distance would work." "Well, they're alone. Instead, have the guy get shanked in the neck or something, and have the killer use a plastic bag as a glove. It saved my ass one time."

"Woah!" you exclaimed with a giggle, "you used a knife once? What happened to my trigger happy boyfriend, huh? That's pretty sus."

"I forgot to reload the Uzis, alright?"

"What an impostor would say."

Chapter 3:

"What would be the best way to muffle the scream of someone you kidnapped?"

You two were sitting on the couch together watching a show. You didn't have your laptop on you, so Pico didn't expect you to still be thinking about that book. "I can't say from experience, really," he said as he paused the show. "However, shove a rag in their mouth and duct tape it in, and you should be good."

"Thanks Pico, also one more thing." "Yeah?" "What if our killer also wanted to..." God, this one was gonna be awkward, but you had to say it or else no help. "You know, cut off this victim's willy. How would you do that?"

"Wai-wha-uh-ga," Pico started fumbling his words like never before. He stopped, then took a deep breath. "YO, WHAT THE FUCK?!" "It'll make sense in the story later, I promise!" You watch Pico begin to lose it, breaking into laughter. "Ladies, gentlemen, and others," Pico dramatically stood up, pulling a little Showcaster impression and directing his arms towards you, "my famous 'young' adult novelist partner!"

Chapter 4:

It was in the dead of night, but you awoke to Pico on his phone. His vpn was on and Tor was up. As per usual, he was checking up on his little hitman service, where others could request for a certain someone's guts to fly if they paid him a hefty sum first. Though tired, you ound this to be the best time to ask him some more questions.

"Pico, how do those sites work?"

"Oh, you're awake," Pico blankly stated, sleepy too. But he still answered you. "Basically, some anonymous rich guys in the area give me money and a target, then I just do the thing and send a mission accomplished email." "Do they pay you in person?" "Nah, we use always use Bitcoin. It's a lot harder to trace than real money."

"Thanks Pico. Goodnight," you wish him, yawning and going back to sleep. "You too... So this guy is a hit man too?" "Hush. Tomorrow." "Okay." Pico puts his phone away, leaving it on a nightstand. You then spoon the night away, peacefully thinking of murder as you drifted off.

Chapter 5:

On a morning similar to before, you two sat on the patio with your drinks and laptop at the ready. Pico watched rather awkwardly as you typed away, wondering why you haven't entertained him with another question yet.

"You gonna ask anything else?" "What? Oh, nah," you plainly state. Inevitable, sure, but he was kind of saddened. He liked being able to share his messed up wisdom. "So, you're done?" "Almost." You turn to look at him, "want the spoilers?" Pico smiled, "sure thing."

In the novella you and Pico crafted together, the main character is a cop who hunts down a killer. They eventually notice that there would be two murders at a time for unknown reasons. Well, it was unknown until one victim had left up a dark web hit man for hire site. They that the hit man not only kills the target, but the client as a hidden price for the service.

And any request will be fulfilled, according to the hit man's site.

"Do they catch 'em?" Pico asked. "Well, ANY request is granted. So, if our hero were to... hire him to kill himself..."

"No way!"

"He did. They find both of their bodies in his bedroom."

Pico was a bit impressed with the ending you came up with, but then he remembered something. "Why did that guy get his thing cut off?" "Lol, I forgot," you giggled. "He sent a message to the hit man, saying he wishes the target would choke on his dick."

"That's my favourite part."

Epilogue:

After everything was finished up, you sent the book off to your editor. After the initial joy of knowing how the story ended, you saw that Pico was still in thought. "What's up with you?" "Oh nothing, well it's just... I'm probably just biased, being that I'm a bit of a hitman myself, but it's kind of sad to see the guy go."

"Then I should spoil the epilogue I came up with." Rather than being excited, Pico nervously asked, "what's an epilogue?" He didn't get an answer, only you staring at him. "Sorry, school held too many bad memories for me to pay attention."

"Anyways," you continue, "the rest of the police gang did some background checks, and find that our killer was a normal guy with no criminal history."

"Penilian?"

"No. But I did decide to take a more supernatural approach here. Somewhere across the country, another string of double homicides occur and that site is active once more. And the story kind of repeats itself."

"Penilian."

"You joker," you give him a playful little kiss on the cheek, one that definitely caught him off guard. "So is it canon?" Pico smirked. "Nah, just thanking you for being my cute little co-author." "Oh," Pico started, "so we're flirtin' now, huh. Come here babe!" He tackled you onto the ground, giving you several kisses in exchange.

"Actually, I think we call that 'making out'," you chuckle out, flustered. "But that doesn't mean I said stop'!" You pull him in for more, accidentally bonking your heads together rather painfully. "Nice double kill there, (Y/N)."

[transformerfan97]

I have no idea where this came from? But uhhhh...here have this fic I wrote today on my day off. Should I post a second chapter?

Anyway, sorry for any/all mistakes! Hope you all enjoy! Sorry I posted it on my phone so I couldn't add the "read more" thing!

This is the time that I've just made up for them. I know it's not 100% right but whatever. I got it from TFwiki at least:

Nano-klik: Seconds 

Klik: Minutes 

Groon: Hours 

Cycle: Days

Breem: Weeks

Orn: Months

Vorn: 1 year

Joor: 5 years

Deca cycle: 10 years 

Mega cycle: 50 years

Solar cycle: 100 years 

Stellar cycle: 1,000 years 

_________________________

"So when were you two gonna tell me about this?"

Prowl and Smokescreen looked up from their respective tables towards the door of the rec room. In it stood a very rare sight; a pissed off Bluestreak. His arms were crossed, doorwings held high in agitation, and face scowling. Two more very rare things followed this, Prowl bit his lip and looked to his elder brother and Smokescreen sighed then stood up to be the mature one. 

The rec room went dead silent to watch the trio. Everyone knew the three were brother's, and fights weren't uncommon. However, when a fight broke out it was usually between Smokescreen and Prowl with Bluestreak coming between them. To see Bluestreak mad at one was rare. If he was, he'd usually ask to speak with said brother privately, and sometimes he'd ask the other to join. To see him this mad, and at both, enough to approach them in a public setting? Something big happened.

"Blue-"

"When was I supposed to find out? Next time we see him? Or when he's dropping off his new sparkling? Or when the bot is dropping off a sparkling to us? Or, or, in a few hundred or thousand solar cycles when we run into a bot that looks just like us?!" Bluestreak growled. "Because you know that's how it'll happen!"

"Bluestreak!" Smokescreen yelled, "he's on his way to visit, and the bot is comin' with him."

Bluestreak's optics went wide at this, "Wh-what-? How do you know?"

"Because he told me."

"Oh of course he did." Prowl growled. 

Smokescreen rolled his optics and turned towards his middle brother. "He wanted it ta be a surprise for you two, and me. I didn' know the bot was comin' with until Jazz showed me the flight list." 

Bluestreak glared and Prowl rolled his optics. Smokescreen just threw his hands in the air and huffed. 

"Doesn't explain why you didn't tell me about the bot." 

"Because we knew you'd react exactly like this Bluestreak." Prowl waved a servo towards him, "cause a public scene, bring our family's personal business into the light, and throw a temper tantrum." Prowl scoffed at his little brother.

Bluestreak's optic twitched and he snarled, "you wanna see a temper tantrum Prowl?" He aimed his shoulder canon at his elder brother and growled, "I'll give you a fragging temper tantrum!"

Prowl's optics went wide at this. Red Alert, First Aid and Perceptor quickly jumped up and away from the table. 

"Bluestreak don't you-" before Prowl could finish Bluestreak fired a shot at his brother. Smokescreen grabbed the bot and pulled him out of the way before it could hit him. When Prowl looked back at his chair his optic twitched when he saw it sparking from the static shock his brother shot at him. He turned back to scream at said brother, but was punched in the mouth. Smokescreen grabbed Bluestreak's shoulders and pulled him back. Bluestreak struggled for a minute before he slammed his helm back against Smokescreen's chin. Smokescreen lost his balance and stumbled. Before he could catch his balance Bluestreak tackled him to the ground. 

"You- punch- two- punch- never- punch- tell- punch- me- punch- ANYTHING!" Bluestreak screamed in Praxian as he repeatedly punched Smokescreen's face and chassis. 

Prowl tackled his younger brother and held his arms down and pinned his legs with his knees. He glared at the struggling bot below him until Bluestreak finally stopped and laid flat to glare back. 

"You realize I could, and should, throw you in the brig and take your SpecOps title away for this? For unprovokingly attacking a commanding officer? And not just any, the-"

"The second in command of the Autobots." Bluestreak mocked. "S'not like anybot actually likes you or wants you to lead if something happens to Optimus Prime! For frags sake, he made you his second because if he didn't you'd whine and probably never have come. Not like you know the first thing about leading anyway." A smirk crossed Bluestreak's face suddenly, "besides you only raised through Praxian ranks, to get where you are now, because you're so good at sucking spike and spreading your legs."

Prowl went stiff at that. There were a lot of rumors as to how he so quickly rose through the ranks. The most popular one being he slept his way to the top. He could, and did, ignore most of them, but that one he hated the most. 

"You damn well know that isn't true." Prowl hissed. 

"That's why you're so good at being in this position, right?" Bluestreak hissed back. 

Prowl looked down and noticed what Bluestreak meant. Granted he was pinning his brother down so he couldn't move, it did look very sexual. 

"And with your own brother? That's fragging gross Prowl. Have some self respect." Bluestreak mocked. 

Prowl sat back on his knees and stared down at his brother with a blank look. He felt a servo on his shoulder and immediately recognized it as Smokescreen's. When he looked up at his older brother and saw the energon dripping from his nose and cracked optic he twitched. He inhaled to calm himself down and that's when he realized his own energon was dripping from his mouth. Raising a servo he felt it and when he pulled it away he was shocked at how much there was. Shrugging he looked down at Bluestreak and sighed. "Fraggit." Prowl pulled his arm back and punched Bluestreak right in the face three times. When he pulled back to deliver a fourth blow he was tackled to the floor. Looking up he wasn't all that shocked to see Jazz on top of him. What did shock him was when he felt the stasis cuffs put on him and himself being lifted and pushed out the door, followed by Smokescreen with Ironhide and Bluestreak with Red Alert. 

OoO

"I...I don't know what to say." Optimus said sadly as he looked at the three bots in front of him. "This kind of thing is expected of Red Alert, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, but even they don't shoot and attack one another."

"There are two accounts of Sideswipe putting Red Alert in the medbay, three of Sunstreaker putting Red Alert there, three of Red Alert putting Sideswipe there, four of Red Alert putting Sunstreaker there, and over ten of them all ending up there together because of fights." Prowl said, a slight annoyance to his voice. 

Red Alert went stiff at this. Prowl has access to a lot of information, especially as second in command, but even he shouldn't know medical information on bots. Unless it's critical of course. 

"Rung and Ratchet have told the three of us if we can't talk it out then to sort out our issues physically. Multiple times. Not that that's your business." Red Alert replied dryly. "How you even know our medical information is beyond me, and a breach of security and Autobot privacy."

"I'm second in command. Nothing is a breach for me." Prowl mumbled, his back to Red Alert. 

"I'm the head of security and security director. I know more than any bot what they should know and who should know what, and as second you do not have access to private medical records of other Autobots. Only Ratchet, Rung, First Aid, Swoop, Ambulon and Pharma have access. As well as Optimus Prime, only if he requires specific information for a valid reason. In fact a Conjunx can't access the other bots' medical records unless given permission." 

Prowl huffed and kept his back to Red Alert. Optimus watched his second and security director for a moment before sighing and leaning against the front of his desk. 

"Prowl, Red Alert is right. You have no right to that information. How did you acquire it?"

"This is really what we're focusing on? Not Bluestreak attacking Smokescreen and I? As well as making accusations against me?"

"What accusations?" Optimus asked, looking at Bluestreak. 

Bluestreak sat up straight when Optimus addressed him, but glanced at his brother and glared, "I didn't accuse Prowl of anything."

"There were plenty of Autobots in the rec room Bluestreak. You can't lie your way out of this one." Prowl growled at his brother. 

"Prowl, you an' Blue were speakin' Praxian. None of us had any idea what you were sayin'." Ironhide said, crossing his arms. 

"We were what?" Prowl asked. 

"Speakin'- bot are ya deaf?" Ironhide growled. 

"Ironhide please." Optimus raised a servo and Ironhide rolled his optics. "Smokescreen can you please tell us what Bluestreak and Prowl were saying?"

Smokescreen stared at him for a moment then blinked, "ummm...Blue knocked me out. I came round and saw Prowl on top of him on his knees." 

"So, no one understood what Prowl or Bluestreak were saying?" Optimus asked the other three. 

"I sorta caught a lil ov it, but ah was tryin' ta help Smokescreen." Jazz rubbed the back of his helm. 

"Can you tell us what you heard please Jazz?" Optimus asked. 

"You speak Praxian?" Smokescreen, Prowl, and Bluestreak all asked. 

Jazz smiled at the three, "jus' enough ta get by. Anyway, all ah really caught was Smokescreen and Prowl neva tellin' Bluestreak anythin'. Tha's when Bluestreak was hittin' Smokescreen. Then when Prowl jumped on Bluestreak ah rushed ta Smokescreen ta make sure he was okay, an' he was in stasis. All ah heard from there was Prowl threatenin' Bluestreak with strippin' his title, Bluestreak sayin' somethin' 'bout you an' Prowl and Prowl being second. Somethin' not being true an' tha' was it." 

Optimus nodded at his third then looked at the three bots. He had a feeling he could fill in what Bluestreak had said to Prowl. He exvented and shook his helm. The three weren't known for fighting, not like Red Alert and the twins, but even those three kept their more violent fights away from prying optics. What could've possibly happened to set this off? Especially to have provoked Bluestreak, of all bots, to attack his elder brothers? Two bots he looked up to and respected so much.

"What brought this on?"

"Prowl accusing Bluestreak of throwing temper tantrums is what really started it." Red Alert said. 

Prowl glared at Red Alert for that. 

"No, I mean, Bluestreak, why did you attack your brothers to begin with? What did they do to hurt you so deeply you felt the need to do this instead of communicating with them, or perhaps coming to Ratchet, Rung, Wheeljack or myself?"

"These two didn't tell me something about our family. That I had every right to know!" 

Smokescreen sighed and Prowl rolled his optics. 

"If you don't mind my asking, and if need be Jazz, Ironhide, and Red Alert can leave and we can call Rung in here, what is it?"

Smokescreen looked at the ceiling, Prowl stared dead ahead and Bluestreak crossed his arms. Optimus looked up at the three bots and went to ask them to leave, but before he could, Bluestreak said something in Praxian. Prowl replied in a hiss and Smokescreen mumbled an annoyed comment back. 

When Jazz suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter all the bots turned towards him. The three brothers with annoyed optics and the others with confused. 

"Th-thats why you three did tha'?" Jazz tried to control his laughing, but he couldn't. 

"Truly a professional Jazz." Prowl rolled his optics and turned back towards Optimus. 

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, but you'd do it too I bet...well...maybe not you...probably Bumblebee though…" Bluestreak mumbled. 

"In hindsight, it's pretty fragging funny. I'm with Jazz." Smokescreen said, sitting back. 

"So...what is it?" Optimus asked, immensely confused now. 

"Our Sire has a new mate." The three said in unison. 

[jrumbots-sandals]

Okay, so I wrote a HC fanfic, because why tf not. The idea wouldn't leave my head, so now you get to deal with it.

Based on @mayflowers07’s "I can be the one you call" series. In that series, there is an established code word on the Hermitcraft server for when a prank goes too far or when a hermit is in danger: "blue creeper." When a player says this phrase, everything stops to help the hermit in need. Please go read their series--it's amazing! The premise of this fic comes from that series as well, so I take no credit for the idea, just the execution!

This is my first HC fic ever, so there's probably a lot of errors when it comes to canon. Impulse and Tango are probably OOC. Timeline is all over the place because 1. I've been watching a lot of hermits, and 2. I'm watching everything out of order. Let me know your thoughts if you like! I mostly wrote this for me, but I wanted to share it anyway.

Anyway, here goes.

The Sleep Prank

WC: 3540

Bdubs was tired. It wasn't uncommon; he was, after all, the sleep master. He had a natural ability to fall asleep as soon as the sun began to set.

Today, however, was different. Where there was usually the pleasant sleepy feeling that accompanied the end of each day, today there was frustrated exhaustion. All because of Tango and Impulse's stupid prank.

It had been going on for three days now. The prank was funny at first— a TNT explosion rigged to blow when Bdubs went to hit his bed. The first time it had happened, he had just finished clearing out most of a nearby sand biome, grabbing a large quantity for the concrete shop. At 10 pm precisely, he took out his trusty bed he travelled with, he set it on the ground and prepared for his nightly shreep sleep. When it happened, he had shrieked loudly and fallen off the bed, causing his fellow Boomers, who were hiding behind a nearby dune, to cry with laughter.

"Very FUNNY!!!!!" he had yelled in his trademark over-exaggerated voice. "Mess with ol' Bdubs while he's tryin' to sleep. You think that's FUNNY, don't you?!"

"Yes, actually," cackled Tango. "It's hilarious. Oh, your FACE…"

The laughter went on for several minutes, Bdubs pretending to be angry while the other two collapsed on each other in laughter. But Bdubs had taken the prank good-naturedly, and soon enough the other two left and he was alone again. Slightly shaken up, he picked up his things and headed to his base, ready to actually get some sleep.

The second time was still funny. Impulse and Tango had trapped his home beds to do the same thing, which didn't hurt Bdubs or any of his things, but did make him jump out of his skin. The two had clearly been expecting this, because soon after, his communicator buzzed:

ImpulseSV: TANGO IT WORKED

TangoTek: HAHAHHAHA YESSSS

TangoTek: Get some nice sleep Bdubs? >:)

Glaring at the offensive messages, he typed back:

BdoubleO100: NO >:(

BdoubleO100: YOU FOOLS SCARED ME SO BAD

BdoubleO100: You guys are the WORST

BdoubleO100: Trapping my BEAUTIFUL HOME

Bdoubleo100: I'll get you for that

Bdubs laughed as he typed out his mock rage. But it was all in good fun, both Bdubs and the Boomers knew.

Now slightly wary of the many beds he had around his base, Bdubs got up from the current bed, no real goal in mind besides getting away from the beds for a little while. It was 10:32 now. Usually, he would already be asleep, ready to skip the night and start on more building projects in the morning. Nursing a slight headache, he picked up a book from one of his many decorative bookcases and sat down away from any beds to read.

20 minutes later, eyes heavy from reading and body tired from the day, he cautiously hit a bed for the third time. Nothing happened. He sighed in relief, already starting to fade into sleep.

And then it happened again. An explosion of TNT, to his right.

"AAAAAGH!!" he screamed, again startled by the prank. This time, he heard a dispenser fire, and suddenly he had a piece of paper in his hand:

GOTCHA!!!!!! — your fellow boomers :)

With a stab of annoyance, he crumpled up the paper and huffed downstairs. Grabbing some rockets and a few blocks of wool, Bdubs took off into the night, heading...somewhere. He didn't know where he was going, besides away, away from his base and the stupid bed prank.

He touched down a few hundred blocks away from his base, finding a decently-sized patch of grass sheltered from the outside by the overhang of a small cliff. He spread out the wool and placed a few torches for safety. Without a true bed, the game's code wouldn't let him instantly sleep and skip the night like usual, but he could still sleep the old-fashioned way. Though not as substantial in length or quality, he would still get some rest, ready in the morning to dismantle all the stupid bed traps around his base and then get some real work done.

Sighing quietly, he laid down, closing his eyes and falling into an uneasy rest. It only lasted half an hour or so, just long enough for Tango and Impulse to find him and set off some more TNT. He woke up in a panic at the thunderous sound, disoriented.

"WHAT THE FU-"

He was interrupted by his two tormentors howling with laughter, peeking out from behind a tree not far from his sleeping spot.

"Sup Bdubs! Get some good sleep?" Tango called, smugly.

Impulse was doubled over beside him, absolutely cackling. "Yeah, you thought you could run away huh? Oh Bdubs…"

"Oh veRY FUNNY!" he tried, but his voice and face betrayed his tiredness and annoyance.

"Ha, ha, yes hilarious, now will you leave me alone?"

Tango gave him a cruel smirk. "Well why don't you try to sleep again and find out?"

His heart sank, seeing how invested the two were in this prank. They really weren't going to let him sleep.

"Please?" It was a pitiful request, free of any of the usual amusing inflection in his voice. Tango and Impulse looked at each other, having a silent conversation. Finally, Impulse spoke.

"Okay, if you can make it to tomorrow without sleeping, we'll let you off the hook. We just wanted to see how long you could go," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, Bdubs, it'll be a great challenge for you! See you in the morning then?" asked Tango.

Bdubs considered their offer. What choice did he have? He could make it through one night.

"Fine," he sighed. "I'll just...read or something."

The Boomers smiled.

"We believe in you!"

"Bye Bdubs!"

They flew off into the night, leaving him to face the rest of the long night alone.

***

It was painful, but Bdubs made it through.

Grabbing his things, he took off back toward his base, thinking about the day ahead. He had some farming to do, a small shack to finish detailing, and the concrete shop to restock. Not to mention finding all the Boomer traps in his house. Then he would go to bed early and be done.

The day passed uneventfully, with no bed-related explosions, thankfully. Bdubs dug out all the blocks around the many beds around his houses, ripping out the offensive redstone wiring whenever he found some. He pocketed the TNT. It served Impulse and Tango right.

Bdubs really didn't do well without at least 8 hours of sleep. It was just how he operated. A full night of quality sleep was essential to keeping up with all the building work on the server and keeping up his happy, boisterous personality. The effects of no sleep were already wearing on him. He had been grumpy and distracted all day, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to not fall asleep on his feet. While working at the concrete shop earlier, he had dropped a block of the stuff on his foot. Swearing loudly and hopping on one foot, he slammed the door and left the building, only to find someone he really didn't want to see: Impulse.

"Hello, Impulse," said Bdubs stiffly.

"Bdubs! Get some good sleep? Oh wait!" Impulse chortled.

He restrained himself from telling Impulse just exactly what he thought of their stupid prank and no sleep challenge (some of the younger hermits were nearby, after all). Instead, he forced out a laugh and put on an overexaggerated expression of indignance.

"You and Tango, I can't believe you would mess with my sleep. Do you KNOW how hard that was? I'm-I'm gonna fall over or something!" He yawned dramatically, pretending to start falling.

Bad idea. He lost his balance for real and fell, slamming into the ground. Impulse just laughed and helped him up, unaware that he wasn't joking.

"Boomers gotta boom, Bdubs."

"Fair enough. Imma get you back though. So you better WATCH OUT!" Bdubs grinned mischievously as Impulse sprinted away in mock fear.

Once he was out of sight, Bdubs slumped over, rubbing his hip where he had fallen. This prank was really starting to take a toll on him.

The rest of the day passed fine, but Bdubs was on edge, finding himself becoming annoyed at little things— the sound of blocks scraping against each other in his inventory, the lowing of animals around the village, the rockets being fired by a passing hermit. He brushed it off, knowing he just needed sleep.

That night, he looked cautiously at his bed. Even though he had checked underneath it earlier and found nothing, the Boomers were some of the smartest redstone workers on the whole server; they could definitely hide traps Bdubs would never find. And now that they knew that disrupting his sleep would get him so riled up, they were bound to do it again, even if he had technically completed their challenge.

Sighing, he flew back to the grass patch from the night before, this time with more wool. Settling down, he tried to fall asleep and realized he couldn't. Despite being bone-tired from last night and a long day today, sleep wouldn't come. A slight panic came over him. He had never not been able to fall asleep before. Was it stress? Anxiety? Both, probably, he thought.

Sighing, he propped himself up against a nearby wall and slapped on his communicator, needing a distraction. He scrolled through the day's messages, laughing at some:

Grian: Guys mumbos AFK again

Grian: What should I do to him

Iskall85: push him in a hole and then cover his floors with ice lol

Xisumavoid: New potion building is open! Free for all my hermits :)

Stressmonster101: Are u tryin' t put me outta business?

Stressmonster101: ill get u for that X, i will

Smiling at his friends' antics, Bdubs moved to get back into bed. But he was still uneasy— something felt off. Scowling at the thought of being woken up by another explosion, he turned over and closed his eyes, trying his hardest to sleep.

Except his paranoia had been for good reason.

Because moments later, TNT went off, startling Bdubs awake. Well, not awake. He never really got to sleep, but he was getting close, and now the goddamn TNT was back.

Groaning in frustration and cursing under his breath, he sat up to look for the victory message he had come to expect. Sure enough:

ImpulseSV: WE GOT HIM AGAIN BOYS

ImpulseSV: aGAIN AAGSAJH

TangoTek: Take notes, ladies and gentlemen

ImpulseSV: Bdubs weve been waiting like an HOUR for you

TangoTek: WORTH IT

TangoTek: lol

Bdubs played along, sending a funny message back, but he was privately glad it was over the communicator and not in real life. He was pretty sure he would have straight up punched the two in the face if they had been nearby. He had done the challenge. It had been over 24 hours since he had slept. Couldn't they leave him the hell alone already?

He thought about trying to be serious with him and ask them, point-blank, to stop. Surely they would see how much they had put their friend through and end it. They weren't that cruel. Right?

Huffing in frustration, he packed up everything he had brought and trudged back to his base. If he was going to get pranked again, he may as well be comfortable at home.

Once he reached home, he threw his things down unceremoniously. Dammit. He should really be sleeping by now. Instead, he tapped his foot anxiously, trying to figure out what to do. He really didn't want to risk another bed-splosion.

He went an hour or so wandering around his base, organizing things and doing odd jobs here and there, and by then it was 11:23. But Bdubs couldn't get himself to try the bed, no matter how much his tired body screamed at him to. He wouldn't do it, not when he knew he would probably just be woken up again. So he kept finding things to do. 11:30 turned to 12 am, turned into 2:30, turned into 5:00 am, and suddenly it was light outside.

Oh. That was bad. He hadn't slept in two nights.

Closing his eyes where he stood, he swayed slightly as he clenched his jaw. Two nights. Goddammit. He realized with horror that he could feel tears beading up in his eyes. This wasn't sustainable.

He took a deep, centering breath and thought about everything he had to get through to finish this never ending day. Groaning at the thought of getting through another day, he made a decision. He would just have to talk to Impulse and Tango. This wasn't happening anymore after today.

***

So today, he was tired. And crabby. He had been awake for over 80 hours, and Bdubs was in a mood and a half because of it. He snapped at Scar during a mayoral meeting, shoulder-checked Mumbo "on accident" while passing him in the shopping district, and kicked down a particularly ugly flower in front of the Barge. He looked terrible, too, with dark bags under his eyes, uncombed hair, and wrinkled clothes he hadn't taken off in two days.

Several hermits passing through the shopping district gave him worried, questioning looks, making him even angrier. He tried to reason with Ren, who saw him and stopped to say hello, and tell him he was perfectly fine, thank you very much, but his argument was weakened by the way he tripped and nearly faceplanted over a small bump in the road.

"You really don't look good, my dude, you need to take a break or something," laughed Ren, lending him a hand to pull himself and looking at him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Well I'm fine, so leave me the hell alone," he snarled in response. The other man had just raised his eyebrows and walked away.

After, he decided to go to his concrete shop to calm down and try to get away from everyone. He pulled out a spare bed and looked at it longingly. Maybe the prank was truly over now? It had been a bad day, and he was so tired…a nap wouldn't hurt.

Lying down gratefully in the comfy bed, (had it always been this comfortable? surely not) he felt the familiar pull of sleep. Just as he was about to doze off, it happened again.

The godforsaken TNT went off.

Bdubs lost it.

"GODDAMMIT TANGO AND IMPULSE YOU SONS OF-"

He was interrupted by laughter from the very two he had just cursed at. They emerged from a door in the wall sneakily hidden by pistons, cackling and falling over each other.

"Oh my God, he actually fell for it-"

"I can't believe it worked-"

"No, Impulse, cause he's so predictable-"

Bdubs closed his eyes, ignoring the way it made the world spin around him, just trying to block out the incessant, annoying laughter filling his ears. He could do this, he just needed to put on a smile and pretend it was all funny-

"He can't go ONE NIGHT without a bed, the precious baby boy," wheezed Impulse.

"Widdle Bdubs is scawed of the dawk, isn't he?" mocked Tango.

He tried to block it out. It's funny, it really is, it's just a prank. Chill out, Bdubs.

"What would we do without him protecting us from all the scaaawy mobbies?"

Tears welled up in his eyes for the second time that day. He was actually afraid of the dark, deathly afraid. It wasn't just a joke to him, they didn't understand...

"Oh, I'm Bdubs, I have to sleep in a bed otherwise i'll get SCARED-"

"SHUT UP!" roared Bdubs. "SHUT UP GODDAMMIT THIS ISN'T FUNNY-"

"Oh but it IS, Bdubs," Tango wheezed, "Cause you fell for it like FIVE TIMES AHAHA-"

He couldn't do this.

"BLUE CREEPER!" he finally yelled, desperate to stop their taunts, to stop everything about the awful prank. The laughter of the other two men died down, finally quelled by the use of the code word.

"Oh shit, Bdubs, are you good?" asked Impulse.

"Yeah, man, sorry, that was the last one we set up," said Tango, shrinking back a bit.

Bdubs hated that they were so suddenly worried about him. As if they hadn't just been making fun of something very important to him, as if this was all a joke. It wasn't funny. They knew he needed sleep and that he was afraid of the dark, of the mobs-

"Bdubs? Buddy? Hey, are you alright, what's wrong?"

But he wasn't paying attention to them. Breathing heavily, he pushed past them, running somewhere, anywhere but here with the other two. He found a corner and pressed himself between the two walls, hiding there for a moment, before reaching for his communicator.

BdoubleO100 whispers to Xisumavoid: blue creeper please come please need help i cantt do it anymore

Tango and Impulse found him there, and they approached him like he was a scared animal, hands raised and eyes wide. Bdubs just hid from them, hoping that-

Teleported Xisumavoid to BdoubleO100.

Thank God, he thought, as he saw the familiar yellow armor. Because suddenly the admin was there, looking at Bdubs with deep worry and care.

"What's happened?" Xisuma asked gently, tipping Bdubs' face up to meet his eyes under the visor. He jerked away, trying to hide his face and his tears. Xisuma instead posed the question to Impulse and Tango, who were looking guilty as hell.

"We sorta played a prank on him…" Impulse said sheepishly.

"Yeah," Tango added, "we just thought it would be funny-"

"To do what?" the admin cut him off sternly.

"...To make TNT explode every time he tried to sleep."

Xisuma glanced back at Bdubs with worry in his eyes. "Why would you do that? You know how he feels about the night!"

At the mention of his fear, a sob escaped him. He slumped to the floor, exhausted. He was so tired, so angry, so embarrassed. He looked back at X, sending a plea with his eyes.

"Please, 'suma, I just...just wanna sleep."

"I know, my friend."

Xisuma left the builder on the floor and stood up to face the pranksters.

"I expect you two to take down everything you set up to explode. Then I expect you to apologize to your friend once he gets some real rest. You took it way too far." He made sure to look both of them in the eye through the tinted visor.

The other two Boomers expressed their agreement and walked out, clearly embarrassed.

An ugly part of Bdubs' mind said good, they should be embarrassed. But he could barely find the energy to be mad anymore. He just wanted to sleep.

Xisuma turned back to him and helped him off the ground. Bdubs all but collapsed into the admin, finally letting some of the tension in his body dissipate. Xisuma shifted to support his mostly dead weight, chuckling softly and giving him a gentle hug.

"Sorry...couldn't take it anymore...goddamn TNT... bullshit," he mumbled.

"Hey, it's quite alright. Let's find you a bed somewhere in my base. I'll patch the code so you can sleep in an actual bed during the daytime. Does that sound okay?"

Bdubs half-sobbed, half-laughed into Xisuma's shoulder. "Yes please. It's… been… long few days."

Teleported Bdoubleo100 to -487.00, 45.00, 1,256.00

Teleported Xisumavoid to -487.00, 45.00, 1,256.00

Once they both successfully reached Xisuma's base, the admin pulled out a bed and set it down in a small building that definitely wasn't trapped. Seeing Bdubs looking at it nervously, Xisuma dug out the blocks underneath, showing no redstone trickery. At last, Bdubs let himself fall into the bed, eyes sliding shut instantly, his body finally free of the tension of the past three days.

Xisuma gently laid a blanket over the man, ruffling his hair fondly and smiling when he moved his head to get closer to the touch. Bdubs mumbled something, trying to thank X, but it was incoherent, his brain too tired to form actual words. The last thing he heard before drifting off was...

"Goodnight, Bdubs."

[backseatloversz]

hi !! ive seen a couple posts abt the dps fandom on my dash today and i agree w/ them wholeheartedly, and its reminded me of some other dps/fandom-in-general thoughts ive been meaning to say! so . here they are.

actors do not know you! we all know this one, right?

actors often arent the ones who wrote the characters

going off that,

actors often cannot confirm things as canon

for sure they can say they like your headcanons, thats fun!

but, again, that doesnt make it canon

which can also be fun, bc that means if you dont like the headcanon they agreed with, you can ignore it!

some things should stay in fandom, though

sometimes it can be nice not to get the validation/confirmation from an actor on a headcanon, cause that means you can do whatever you want with it, and nobody can go "um, actually-"

you know?

does that make sense?

probably ! i am gonna use an example anyway. to relate this back 2 dps lol

the ship anderperry! anderperry is great. i love it. im glad a lot of fans love it!

but, especially seeing how dps canonically ends and a lot of the negative messages it could imply if anderperry were intentional, a part of me appreciates it wasnt!

bc this means i can read and write as much as i want where anderperry is real, and they get a happy ending :)

and, relating this back to actors; since anderperry isnt canon, i can see gale hansen (who played charlie, not even ander- or -perry anyway, lol) saying he could see it, and he thinks that if it were canon, todd never wouldve talked about it after neil died, and i can completely ignore it! bc i dont like that. i like to think that, even if anderperry were real, and the canon ending happened, todd wouldve opened up about it w/ at least someone

(not to imply ppl asking gale abt ships/queer headcanons are in the wrong! he seems p open to answering those kinds of things, and i love that he supports the queer community/fans sm!! but just in general; his word + the word of most actors isnt law, and if actors have made it clear theyre uncomfortable w/ certain questions, leave it at that)

so. yea. actors often dont have the power to confirm stuff. actors dont know u, dont ask/send them dark/weird/etc things unwarranted. some things should be kept within fandom

ahh the magic of fandom & headcanons.

hope that all made sense

fin

[zosonils-art]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Relationship: Ferb Fletcher & Phineas Flynn

Characters: Ferb Fletcher, Phineas Flynn, Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb), Linda Flynn-Fletcher

Additional Tags: Autistic Ferb, Autistic Phineas, autistic phineas is more implied and could also be taken as adhd but he has both anyway so, Autistic Meltdown, Autism, Sensory Overload, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Illustrations, Canon Continuation, Fix-It of Sorts, i think????? i don't frequent this goddamn website i don't know, Brotherly Love, Crying, some of the crying is me

Summary: A stressful day pushes Ferb past his breaking point, and Phineas feels that he has a responsibility to set things right. Takes place immediately after Ready For The Bettys. Was supposed to be a simple continuation fic but got wildly out of hand. Ph*n*rb shippers fuck off this isn't for you.

---

as you’ve probably figured out if you’re following my main, i recently wrote my first fic since i was about 13! it’s available on ao3 at the link above, but you can also read it on tumblr by clicking the readmore on this post! i put a lot of effort into this and it took a lot of courage to post, so feedback is greatly appreciated!

"Mom! Guess what Ferb did!"

Phineas bursts into the kitchen energetically, still buzzing with adrenaline from the day's adventure. Ferb follows a step or two behind. Linda turns her attention from the freshly baked pie in her hands to her sons, although Phineas is too beside himself with excitement to consider whether or not she's paying attention. "He made a secret tunnel, and a spy headquarters, and a villain's lair, and a hover jet shaped like Perry- tell her, Ferb!"

Ferb doesn't match Phineas' enthusiasm. In fact, at the moment, he's sick to death of it. He prepares to launch into the explanation he's been trying all day to give. "Actually, I-"

"Wait a second," Linda interrupts, eyeing the boys with suspicion. "Why are you two soaking wet?"

The interruption is just too much for Ferb. He doesn't even process the question, just lets out a harsh shout of frustration. Phineas recoils - Ferb almost never shouts. "I give UP!" Ferb yells, his voice shaking on the last syllable, and before either of his surprised family members can respond, he turns around and storms off, his destination betrayed by the distinct clunking rhythm of stairs being stomped on too hard and the sound of a door slamming upstairs.

For a moment, the kitchen is silent. Linda recovers before Phineas does, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. "Young man, that is not how we talk to each other in this house!" she calls, setting the pie tin and her oven mitts down on the kitchen counter and following Ferb's path to his room. Before she can make it to the doorway, though, her progress is halted.

"Mom, wait!" Phineas pleads. He's finally caught onto what's been going on all day, and although he's still only half processed it, he knows he doesn't want Ferb to be in trouble for it. He frantically tugs on Linda's arm to draw her attention. Once he's sure that she's stopped, he withdraws his hand (he's still wet, after all, he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable), but sidesteps around her to put his tiny body firmly between her and the doorway to the living room. "Mom, please don't be mad at Ferb, it- it's not his fault! I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, he's just..." Phineas' voice trails off briefly, but he forces it back into action, complete with the most serious expression he can manage. "If you're gonna be mad at either of us, it should be me, okay?"

At first, Linda returns Phineas' gaze with suspicion, then her face softens with realisation. She crouches down to her son's eye level, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Phineas, did something else happen today?" she asks, the anger gone from her voice.

Phineas hesitates, dropping eye contact again. He's almost certain about the cause of Ferb's outburst, and he can't help but mentally beat himself up for it to a degree. "Well, Ferb's been trying to tell me something all day, but he kept getting interrupted by our spy mission, and I guess it must have been really frustrating because he hates being interrupted but I didn't realise and-" he pauses to breathe, and shudders as he inhales as if on the verge of tears - "and I should have asked at some point but I just kept getting distracted and I didn't even realise how upset it was making him but-"

"Phineas," Linda says gently, and he gladly accepts the invitation to cut his rambling short. His breathing is shaky, but he doesn't cry just yet, even though his emotional state has nosedived in barely a minute. After giving him a moment to snap back into focus, Linda continues. "Phineas, honey, it sounds like this has just been a misunderstanding. On my end, too," she adds, regretting having snapped at Ferb earlier. Phineas nods with a nondescript mumble of agreement. Although he still obviously isn't looking, Linda gives him a reassuring smile anyway, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. "Thank you for telling the truth, sweetheart," she praises him.

"Mmh," Phineas mumbles, tugging at his shirt collar. He tends to fiddle with his shirt when he's nervous or overexcited. It doesn't hold a candle to bouncing his leg or flapping his hands, as far as stimming goes, but it's a lot easier to do while someone is touching you. "I just should've realised what was up earlier, then he probably wouldn't have freaked out..."

He finally glances up again, and the look his mom is giving him tells him that he should drop the argument, so he stops. Linda ruffles his hair affectionately, leaning forward to reach all the way behind Phineas' oddly-shaped head, and flinches at the unpleasant reminder of how waterlogged he still is. She stands up, flicking her hand dry. "I'm sure he knows you didn't mean to hurt his feelings," she reassures Phineas. "Why don't you dry yourself off and then go talk to him? Which reminds me," Linda motions towards the puddles tracked all over the kitchen floor, "why are you two so wet?"

"Oh, we fell in Isabella's pool," Phineas answers matter-of-factly. He isn't quite back to his usual blindingly sunny disposition, but the panicky tremble in his voice has at least disappeared.

Linda smiles, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, that I believe," she says. She'd tactfully decided not to comment on whatever that secret spy headquarters spiel was that Phineas had been getting worked up over, but she suspects his latest imaginary game took the boys to Isabella's backyard and ended up having some real-life consequences. "Oh, hi, Perry," she adds, as the platypus in question waddles into the kitchen.

Perry responds with his familiar chatter. Phineas leans down to pet Perry on the head. "At least you've had a stress-free day, huh," he says, then leaves for the bathroom. Perry stares at him blankly.

---

Ferb is having a meltdown.

He knows what this is, of course. He reads every textbook and blog post on the subject he can find, just in case it helps him make some more sense of himself. If he misses one, Phineas will no doubt have found and memorised it himself for the same reason, and will gladly rattle off anything new. Knowing why there's a raging storm beating at the inside of his head, however, is entirely different from quelling it. By the time he reaches his bedroom, he's trembling so violently that he can barely stand. He stumbles to his bed, pushing his hands down into the mattress to keep himself on his feet.

It's like feeling every feeling from every second of the day all in the same moment, and it hurts. So much is happening in his head that he can't even isolate a single thought, let alone process what it means. Is he angry? That'd make sense, sure, but his mental state isn't exactly conducive to deductive reasoning at the moment. Is he sad? Scared? Something else entirely?? He can't tell what emotion or mixture thereof it is, only that it's hurting his head, and he wants to get it out but he doesn't know how. He's struggling to breathe now, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping his body supported, and as he draws in a desperate shuddering breath Ferb feels something wet in his eye and then on his face, and he remembers that his entire body is wet and he hates it. It's cold, and his hair is sticking to his face and uncomfortably close to his eyes, and his clothes cling to his body oppressively and he wants to tear them off and stop feeling everything. Instead of doing that, he forces himself to breathe in again and looks around the room frantically, hoping to find something other than absolutely everything to concentrate on.

His eyes land on Phineas' bed, and although his vision is blurring as the panicky tears pour down his face, he recognises the shape instantly. Is he mad at Phineas? Should he be? He should be, right? If Phineas had just stopped to listen to him for once, he wouldn't be here with the world ending inside his brain. Another violent wave of emotion sends a shock through his whole body, and Ferb is still in no state to identify it, but he gets the message. He doesn't want to be angry. Not at Phineas. In fact, he doesn't want to feel anything he's feeling at the moment. Not the turbulent assault of everything inside his head, not the hammering rhythm of his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, not every tiny thing that touches his skin or the light from outside that still feels blinding through the curtains or the muffled sounds of conversation downstairs that he doesn't have room in his brain to translate into anything but more noise.

Sensory overload is another term Ferb knows, and it's another one that doesn't really help to know in the moment. The feeling of anxiety that's been growing in his chest since that morning finally becomes too much for his body to handle, and he collapses on his bed, weakly gripping the blanket for support. Burying his face in his covers blocks out most of the sunlight, at least, but it doesn't significantly improve his mood. He shivers, partly from cold thanks to still being uncomfortably wet, partly from the sobs making his whole body convulse. (When did those start? He doesn't remember.) He uses the last of his physical strength to pull himself fully onto his bed and curl into himself, trying desperately to calm himself down.

...

It's not working. Why isn't it working?? It's as if every effort to steady his breathing just makes him cry harder, every attempt at a calming thought being shattered into a thousand anxious ones by the merciless torrent of everything whirling around in his mind. Ferb is suddenly hyper-aware of how empty the room around him is, and it makes him feel helpless. It's the first feeling he's managed to connect a name to with absolute certainty this whole time, and it's terrifying.

If he was making any noise before in his attempts to control his breathing, he's stopped now. No sound escapes him as he lies in place, too preoccupied with the overwhelming barrage of thoughts in his brain to move. More than anything, Ferb wants his brain to just shut off. Everything in his mind blends into a horrible white noise that won't stop, threatening to drown him in static.

Through the raging mental cyclone, he just barely hears the knock at the door.

Phineas waits a moment before entering his room. He wants to make sure Ferb has time to process that he's here. A few seconds pass, then he opens the door slowly so that it doesn't make any sound. A stab of guilt hits him when he sees Ferb curled up on his bed, visibly distressed. He's facing the opposite wall, but the way he shudders as he breathes makes it obvious that he's crying. Phineas feels his heart sink. He'd really hoped it wouldn't be this bad.

"Hey," he says softly. Ferb grips himself tighter. Just a minute ago, Phineas would have been the last person he wanted to see, but now his desperation for comfort outweighs any lingering hints of animosity. He doesn't object to his brother's presence, so Phineas gently closes the door and walks over to his side of the room. He sits on the bed, watching Ferb to see if he reacts negatively to the shift in weight distribution, and tenses up slightly at how damp the blanket is. Of course, Ferb wouldn't have stopped to dry off on his way up here. A closer look confirms that while a lot of the water on his body has run off and soaked into his bed, Ferb is still almost as wet as he was when he arrived home. Phineas frowns - that can't be comfortable, and it's probably making him feel even worse. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Ferb curls into himself even more instead of asking. The question is so frustratingly rhetorical that he almost reconsiders the possibility of being angry, but the idea still scares him, so the feeling passes. Fortunately, Phineas understands the unspoken 'obviously not' with no further input, and continues to talk. "I'm really sorry about today," he begins. "I know you don't like being interrupted, and I should've realised that it was making you feel bad but I just wasn't paying enough attention and- and I'm sorry, because it's kinda my fault you got so upset," he apologises, not realising that he's holding back tears until he stops to breathe. He wills himself not to cry. He's here to try and make Ferb feel better, not guilt him into forgiveness.

It takes a second or two for Ferb to process what Phineas is saying. It's a struggle to drag the words through the confusing whirlwind of everything still rampaging through his head. Eventually, after a great deal of mental effort, he shakes his head in response. Perhaps he was angry before, he still can't tell, but he definitely isn't now. He can't manage anything beyond the simple gesture, but it's not the first time he's been utterly uncommunicative, so Phineas understands the meaning as well as he needs to: it's not your fault.

"Th-thanks," he stutters, although Ferb's acceptance does little to settle the crushing feeling of responsibility. "Next time you can speak I'll let you tell me whatever it is you needed to, okay? I promise." He smiles a little. "No more secret agent business to interrupt you."

The last sentence sure prompts a reaction from Ferb - he rolls over so that his face is entirely buried in the blanket and makes a frustrated noise without opening his mouth, his body shaking with some mixture of anger and physical strain. Phineas inhales sharply and recoils, no more prepared for an audible outburst from Ferb than the first time. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, already speed-testing possible answers in his head. "Did you not have fun today? Of- of course you didn't, that's why you're upset, but I thought you did a great job on the spy mission! It was really cool." He's trying to be reassuring, but Ferb just shakes harder, seemingly becoming more aggravated rather than less.

Phineas tilts his head in confusion. "Ferb? Ferb, it's okay, I-I'm sorry. Did... did it not go the way you planned?" he guesses, searching increasingly frantically for any change in Ferb's body language. "Hmm... oh, were you not finished building it yet?" He thinks back to Ferb's numerous attempts at speaking to him throughout the day, hoping that he'll find some clue that makes everything fall into place - and something clicks in his brain. He deflates a little at how painfully obvious the realisation seems in retrospect, with a soft "Oh." Sighing at his own ignorance, he directs his voice to Ferb again as he says, "You didn't actually build all that, did you?"

Ferb sits up slowly and turns to Phineas with his signature deadpan glare, the silent, biting sarcasm undermined significantly by the tears still falling from his eyes. Phineas hums concernedly. "Is that what you were trying to tell me?" he asks. Ferb gets partway through rolling his eyes before giving up and returning to the fetal position.

Phineas sighs sadly. He hates seeing his brother cry. There's nothing he wants to do more than pull him into the tightest hug he can manage, but he knows Ferb won't appreciate being touched in this state, so he opts to fiddle with his shirt again to keep his hands busy. "Who do you think did build that stuff?" he asks. Ferb doesn't care. On any other day, a secret spy lair being hidden under his house would be cause for immeasurable excitement, but after the day's events he's thoroughly sick of thinking about the subject. Phineas picks up on Ferb's antipathy towards the question and, sensing that it might be a sore topic for some time, decides not to bring it up again for a while. He'll satisfy his curiosity sometime when it doesn't come at the expense of Ferb's comfort.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the boys. It's broken when Ferb suddenly sniffles loud enough to make Phineas jump, sits up again, and halfheartedly tries to wipe the tears from his face. "Oh geez, hold on," Phineas says, leaning over to rummage through his short pockets. He eventually pulls out a wad of tissues, somehow unaffected by the earlier impromptu dive into Isabella's pool. He offers them with a gentle "here you go" to Ferb, who takes a few silently and scrubs at his eyes.

While he still doesn't feel good by any stretch of the definition, Ferb at least doesn't feel completely awful anymore. What was once a violent hurricane in his mind has receded enough that he can focus on the world around him without breaking down, at least for the time being, and he's left feeling just drained. He balls up his handful of tissues and tosses them at the bin under his desk. The ball makes it to Phineas' leg before unceremoniously bouncing to a stop. Phineas picks it up and throws it the rest of the way to the trash, standing up to do so.

Rather than sit down again, he kneels down and pulls out one of the drawers conveniently built into the bed. Ferb watches inquisitively, still too out of it to immediately catch onto what's happening. Phineas rummages a little before finally pulling out a pair of pyjamas, suggesting, "You should dry off and change your clothes." He pauses to think. "Can you make it downstairs to the bathroom by yourself?" he asks. At any other time, it would be a silly question, but Ferb is always exhausted after a meltdown. The visible effort it's taking him just to stay upright isn't lost on Phineas. Ferb ponders the question, then gives a tentative nod. He's definitely shaky, but he really wants to change into something dry.

"Great!" Phineas smiles encouragingly. "Should I bring the usual stuff to the living room? Your bed's probably not gonna feel comfortable until it dries out." Ferb glances down at the unmistakable damp silhouette of where he had been lying earlier and nods again, more confidently. He slowly gets to his feet, first pushing against his bed for support, then grasping the hand Phineas offers him. He lets go once he's certain he's regained his balance, and only then does Phineas hand him his pyjamas. "I'll come meet you downstairs, okay?" Phineas says. Then, pulling at the bottom of his shirt, which is still a bit soggy despite his best efforts to towel it off, he adds, "I should probably change into something dry as well."

---

Ferb rubs his eyes as he comes out of the bathroom, his drenched clothes swapped out for his much more comfortable pyjamas. He's stopped crying, it seems, but he's still feeling sensitive enough that the light from outside bothers him. He's relieved to discover that it's much darker in the living room - Phineas must have been here already. The curtains are drawn so that the lamp on the end table is the only light source in the room, softly illuminating its surroundings with a pleasant warm glow. He doesn't have the energy to analyse the entire room, even in these far more bearable conditions, but his attention is drawn to his favourite weighted blanket folded neatly on the couch. He sits down and drags the blanket over him, struggling a bit with the weight, but relaxing once he feels its reassuring pressure on his legs.

It's as he's settling into his position on the couch that Phineas enters with an "Oh, there you are, Ferb!". Perry is firmly but comfortably wedged under one of his arms, like a fuzzy teal football or loaf of bread, and seems altogether unbothered by his position. Ferb gasps quietly at the sight of Perry, his eyes brightening momentarily, and reaches out for him with various soft noises of urgency. Phineas wastes no time in setting Perry down next to Ferb, and the platypus reacts with a gentle, almost soothing chatter. Ferb instinctively mimicks the sound under his breath, and Perry responds with a nearly identical noise. Ferb echoes it again, slightly louder this time, and his face lights up with a weak smile, the first one he's managed all day.

Taking this as a sign of progress, Phineas sighs with relief as he sits on the sofa. He makes sure to maintain a respectful distance from Ferb, who's running a hand through Perry's fur as they echo the same low growling noise back at each other. (It pains Phineas not to join in, but he senses the two have gotten themselves into a groove that would be rude to interrupt.) Ferb's smile fades almost as soon as it appears, but he seems much more relaxed after the change in clothes and scenery. His hair is sticking up in every direction from being towelled dry, and Phineas stifles a laugh at how silly it looks. The back-and-forth chattering eventually dies down, and it's only then that Phineas continues. "Mom's gonna make you some tea, and she says if you aren't feeling better by dinner you can eat in here if you want," he says. Ferb turns to him and raises a thumbs-up briefly before returning his hand and focus to Perry.

Phineas quietly watches his brother for a moment before speaking again. "Do you want me to stay?" he asks. Exactly how sociable Ferb is while he's coming out of a meltdown varies. He almost invariably needs some time on his own to mentally reset, but sometimes it helps if someone he trusts is there to reassure him for a while first. In Phineas' experience, asking is always the best way to tell.

Ferb hesitates for a second, then surprises both of them with his answer, which is to turn and collapse into Phineas' lap with one arm hooked over his legs in a sort of pseudo-hug. Phineas tenses up, not sure how to react. He cautiously puts an arm around Ferb, in a comforting gesture that doesn't fully subject him to the overwhelming sensory experience of a true hug. Ferb doesn't fight it, just repositions himself so that he's lying down with Phineas as a makeshift pillow and sinks further into the gentle embrace. Phineas laughs softly. "Okay, I guess you do."

This is nice, Ferb thinks. Definitely an improvement over violently sobbing alone in his room. Perry must be feeling relaxed too, because he climbs onto Ferb's stomach, circles a few times, lets out one more chatter, then flops down and goes to sleep, purring gently. Phineas giggles at the platypus' behaviour, and Ferb's shoulders shake in silent laughter - his blanket absorbs enough of the sensation that it just tickles. Watching Perry doze off reminds him that he's still exhausted, despite the positive change in environment, and his attempt to stifle a yawn fails. He's still on high alert, and he knows he won't be sleeping for longer than a few minutes until the emotional clutter completely drains from his mind. With that said, both the blanket and Perry weighing down on him make for a pretty cosy combination, and he finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open. Maybe just a moment of rest will be good for him.

Before he knows it, his eyes are closed, and he's powerless to prevent himself from drifting off. Phineas accepts his new career as a pillow without comment, simply adjusting his right hand so that both his arms are positioned protectively around his brother. Being trapped in place for the time being doesn't worry him. Ferb won't mind being stirred awake when their mom arrives with his tea, and until then Phineas can easily occupy himself with thoughts of what to do tomorrow. Besides, he can subject himself to a few minutes of quiet if that's what Ferb needs. What kind of a brother would he be if he couldn't, right?

Ferb half-consciously brings a hand to Phineas' wrist, as if it'll float off if he isn't holding on. He can feel his brain shutting down, and he welcomes the change. The last thing he's aware of before his consciousness finally leaves him in peace for a moment is the sound of Phineas' voice, promising him, "You're gonna be okay."

[hermannsthumb]

If you’re still doing summer prompts, could you do graduation for newmann?

15. Graduation

from (the very old) summer prompts meme here

enjoy some awkward pre-canon jaeger academy ~ROOMMATES~!! also I am pretty sure this message/prompt is from at least a year ago (if not TWO) but it was only today that I really thought about what I wanted to write for it and wrote in like a FRENZY. content warning for alcohol (no like intoxication tho)

--------

It was hardly to be expected that Newton would be mature over the whole thing, but Hermann finds himself in a perpetual state of agitation the final weeks of their enrollment at the Jaeger Academy anyway. Newton was very young, Hermann knows, when he graduated from university (at least he was young the first time he graduated), and he can only assume the man took it rather hard that he didn’t get to have the proper send-off he thought he deserved—all-night parties with kegerators and beer pong, one-dollar shots at dive bars, trips to the seaside with classmates. One wasn’t likely to invite someone who’d barely breached his teens and still had braces to those sorts of things, after all. It’s the only reason Hermann can think of as to why Newton has spent the month—the whole month—popping open champagne at all hours and organizing spin-the-bottle in the base rec room and generally being a great bloody nuisance to everyone they have the misfortune of sharing their graduating class with. Over-compensation is what it is.

Having Newton as his bunkmate adds a special level of unbearableness to it all. At least—and Hermann does thank the stars above for this—tomorrow marks the end of a very miserable month. A very miserable two years.

“Everyone is going to be there,” Newton says. He’s wearing an oversized pair of neon sunglasses over his regular glasses, for some reason, those abhorrently dated kind with the slatted lenses, and dangling from his left hand are two bottles of pink champagne. A bag of plastic cups dangles in the other. “Everyone. Not even just the k-scientists—the techs, the ranger trainees, the—”

“That all sounds very thrilling,” Hermann says, hefting a stack of button-ups into a cardboard box he’s labeled Clothing – Gottlieb. “You’re aware, I assume, that we’re meant to be moving out tomorrow, and you’ve not touched anything on your side of the room?”

“Dude, I have sooo much time,” Newton says. Hermann realizes now the seal on one of the champagne bottles is broken—which might explain some of Newton’s suspiciously carefree mood. “Besides, I barely even have that much shit here.”

This is patently untrue. Newton’s clothing is overflowing from his dresser; manga and monster action figures and vinyl records clutter up every inch of its top surface; there’s laundry under his bed, on his bed, his guitar picks on Hermann’s bedside table, dirty mugs on his own, half-finished reports and articles scattered over his desk… “Fine,” Hermann says. “But I haven’t finished, at any rate, so I won’t be joining you.”

Newton flops down next to him on his bed; the stopper on the opened champagne bottle wobbles dangerously, and Hermann moves quickly to push it in more firmly so he doesn’t have to add a load of bed linens to his To-Do list. “I think you need to unwind, roomie,” Newton says, grinning up at him. Both pairs of his glasses have slipped off his nose and onto Hermann’s bedspread. “We’ll have all day tomorrow after the dumb ceremony to pack, and you haven’t taken a break in, like, seven years. You’ve earned one.”

Hermann doesn’t want to take a break, or at least not in the way Newton is suggesting. Hermann wants to finish packing up his half of the room, then his designated workspace in the large k-science laboratory, and then take a shower to wash himself of the experience of being Newton Geiszler’s roommate and labmate for two years too many. Noticing his reticence, Newton adds, pleadingly, “Come for one hour? Just to do two shots with me? One shot?” He blinks, half-blind without his glasses, as if trying to discern whether or not Hermann looks likely to give in. “No shots? C’mon, Hermann, you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Hermann says, frowning.

Newton nudges him with the stack of plastic cups. “Y’know—for the sake of your ol’ penpal,” he says.

The reference to their letter-writing days jars Hermann, and despite his best efforts not to show it to Newton, his hand trembles as he deposits an unopened pack of white socks into his laundry box. He thinks it may be the first time either of them have brought it up in the entirety of their time at the Academy. It’s certainly the first time either of them have admitted to even the slightest notion of a shared history since—a week into their first year here, at an ice-breaking event for their kaiju-science peers—Newton had rolled his eyes exaggeratedly when someone attempted to introduce him to Hermann and said “Yeah, Dr. Gottlieb and I go wayyyy back.” Hermann did not admit so at the time, but the use of the honorific in place of his first name had been unexpectedly wounding—ridiculous of him, considering he made a point of referring to Newton in precisely the same way. Perhaps that little slip of the tongue had been why they were assigned as roommates scarcely a week later. An assumed friendship.

Hermann picks up Newton’s thick eyeglasses and carefully slips them back onto Newton’s upside-down face. Newton wrinkles his nose when Hermann’s thumb accidentally brushes against its tip. “I just don’t like parties very much, Newton,” he says. He’s not sure when Dr. Geiszler became Newton to him, or rather, became Newton to him again.

“Then we can do something together here,” Newton says.

He sits up and pushes the sealed champagne bottle at Hermann’s chest. “This is for you, anyway. Graduation present. Bury the hatchet, you know—odds are pretty fucking high we’re never gonna see each other again, so there’s no use hating each other forever.”

In spite of his better judgement, Hermann takes the champagne bottle. One drink won’t hurt him. And anyway, it might be a little relaxing—so long as it’s one drink only, because he still has an entire two years’ worth of research to pack away in his laboratory desk. “Do you know where you’re being assigned already, then?” he says. He was under the impression they wouldn’t find out until after the ceremony tomorrow—bit last minute, he supposes, but it’s not as if they’re making their own travel arrangements, and nearly all of their colleagues have already brought their families along with them to the Academy base.

“Nah,” Newton says, “but I wrote down a lot on my request form.” He motions for Hermann to hand him back the bottle, and he begins unscrewing the wire holding down the cork. “Tokyo—Peru—" He moves the bottle away from the bed as he pops it open with a grunt of effort, and a small bit of foam spills to the cement floor. Hermann grits his teeth and tries not to worry about cleaning it up later. “—Los Angeles. I worked on one of my PhDs in California, you know, a few weeks one July. Sea sponges. I learned how to scuba dive, I loved it—I think that’s one of the first things I’m gonna do if—once this is all over.”

He looks strangely maudlin as Hermann pours himself some champagne into one of the plastic cups and suffers through a sip. Too sweet. Hermann’s never liked sweet wines—bloody awful hangovers the next day, if one isn’t careful.

“Their entire ecosystem would be destroyed now, I guess,” Newton says. “Kaiju blue poisoning.”

“Whose?” Hermann says.

“The sea sponges’,” Newton says.

Hermann sips more of the champagne so he won’t have to respond. “I requested Anchorage,” he offers. Among plenty others, but he knows Newton will get a kick out of ribbing him for the dreary Alaskan climate. It seems to work—Newton lights up at once with a loud snort.

“Of course you did, ya weirdo,” he says. “Have fun freezing your ass off.” He takes a sip right from his bottle, then holds it out to Hermann. “Well, Hermann—you were an annoying lab partner, an even more annoying roommate, but a decent penpal, and I’m—well, I’m not gonna miss you, but I guess I can’t say I hate everything about you. Good luck with the jaegers. Good luck to whoever gets stuck with you next, actually, yikes, don’t envy them! Here’s to never seeing each other again.”

Hermann rolls his eyes, but knocks his plastic cup against Newton’s bottle. “Best of luck to you, as well,” he says. “And here’s to—well, surviving.”

“That’s cheerful,” Newton says.

They drink to their toast. Down the hall, someone puts on loud music to a chorus of equally loud cheers. Hermann reckons that’ll be Newton’s party. “You ought to head over there,” he says, turning briefly to glance at their door, which Newton has left cracked open. “Otherwise, they’ll miss—”

Newton kisses him.

Hermann doesn’t necessarily kiss back, but he doesn’t push Newton away, either. He’s more bewildered than anything. He might’ve expected this sort of thing to happen years ago—years, and years ago, before that dreadful first meeting in some dingy little Berlin coffee shop, back when a new letter from Dr. Geiszler slipped through his mail slot could make his heart thud like nothing else—but they’ve hardly been anything to each other but colleagues these past two years. Not even quite colleagues—that implies a civility they don’t possess. Professional academic rivals. He was under the impression that the man hated him, that the data when they underwent standard tests for drift compatibility was merely a fluke.

His empty cup falls from his hand and clatters to the floor. Newton slides a hand up Hermann’s jaw and keeps kissing him; he makes a small, needy noise into Hermann’s mouth.

“Newton,” Hermann finally mumbles. “What are you doing?”

Newton pulls back. A brilliant red flush is creeping steadily across his face, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times before anything comes out. “Oh, shit,” he says. “I didn’t mean—”

He stumbles to his feet. “Shit, dude, I’m sorry, I like—”

“Newton?” Hermann repeats. He feels about as dazed as Newton looks; he’s not quite sure what he’s meant to say. His lips are tingling from the kiss. “I—?”

“I’m gonna go to the party,” Newton stammers. “Sorry, dude, I—misread signals? I guess? Um—” He steps on Hermann’s forgotten cup and skids slightly, catching and righting himself on one of Hermann’s bed posts. The movement knocks Hermann’s cane (hooked there) to the floor, and Newton must bend down twice before he succeeds in picking it up. “Just—um—okay, bye.”

Hermann stares at the door for a long time after Newton leaves. Tomorrow marks the end of their two years cohabitating and working together—as Newton said, odds are high their paths will never cross again. Hermann had been counting down the days to their graduation in a little calendar he keeps pinned neatly to his wall, daydreaming endlessly of the first thing he would do once he was free from the suffocating cloud of Newton Geiszler’s presence—daydreaming of the like-minded non-Geiszlerian colleagues he would meet at his Shatterdome assignment, of a neat and orderly laboratory devoid of kaiju residue over every communal surface, of his own living quarters. He should be excited. He should be ecstatic.

Hermann touches his mouth and feels nothing but strange sort of hollowness in his chest—a black hole enveloping all else.

---

He doesn’t see Newton until their graduation ceremony the next day, an affair made all the more awkward by the seating chart’s alphabetical arrangement ensuring Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb will be knocking elbows for the full two hours. Newton is late by nearly twenty minutes, and rushes in with badly unkempt hair and a backwards tie: Hermann has a feeling he’d been lurking outside their quarters and waiting for Hermann to leave before he dared dart in to get himself ready. He wonders where Newton spent the night. He wonders why he even cares. Likely passed out on the rec room floor after the party, judging from the confetti stuck to his left cheek—or perhaps he’d finally made a move on the fellow kaiju-biologist Hermann recalls him extolling the physicality of on more than one occasion, and spent the night with him—or perhaps he did neither, and merely wandered the base for hours, sleep evading him as it’d so entirely evaded Hermann. They don’t acknowledge each other for the whole of the ceremony.

Hermann is summoned to the office of the jaeger science program head (a severe woman with short hair) later that evening, shortly after he finishes taping up his very last box of papers in the vacant laboratory. He’s handed a small manila folder containing the details of his Shatterdome assignment: Hong Kong, as it turns out. One of his requests. “Since you and Dr. Newton Geiszler have displayed a strong work ethic when partnered together,” the woman begins, “as well as a very high level of drift compatibility—”

Hermann’s eyes snap up from his folder to her face.

“—we’ll be assigning him to Hong Kong’s kaiju science division along with you, under the assumption that together you will only continue to produce positive results.”

“Pardon?” Hermann says, weakly.

Newton has finished boxing up a majority of his belongings when Hermann drags himself through the door to their quarters an hour later. He glances at Hermann briefly, embarrassedly, and says, in a small voice, “Hey, Hermann.”

“Newton,” Hermann says.

He walks over and sits down heavily atop the pile of sheets on his stripped bed. Something pokes at his thigh, and he sets aside his cane to fumble through the sheet bundle to discover what: Newton’s forgotten neon shuttered shades. The sight of them sends his stomach twisting up in knots. “Oh, hey,” Newton says, as he wraps a Godzilla action figure with bubble wrap. He nods at the manila envelope clenched between Hermann’s fingers. “Where are they shipping you off to? I’m going to Hong Kong—should be cool. I’ve never been before.” He places the little Godzilla in a carboard box. Newt - Junk! the side says in purple Sharpie. “My flight leaves tomorrow afternoon—you’re right, I definitely should’ve started packing earlier, I have no idea how I’m gonna get this all done by then.”

Hermann stares at Newton in poorly-concealed amazement as he continues to ramble on about how to pack up his instruments and whether or not they’ll let him bring his first-ever kaiju sample with him (he’s attached to it, even though he knows it’s technically the academy’s property, but maybe he can find a way to smuggle it out in his checked bags or something). Does he not know? Did they not tell him? How could they let this fall on Hermann? “Newton,” he says, slowly. “I’ve been assigned to Hong Kong, too.”

Newton freezes. “No fucking way,” he says.

[rev-1832]

please for the love of all fuck explain mcyt to me

Omg I've been waiting for this

So mcyt means minecraft youtube, but usually also includes Twitch streamers. It's like a in general thing, and not pointing to anything specific

But since you sound so confused, I'm gonna explain to you the Dream SMP lore 'cause why not

TL;DR: Chaos and war, basically also like a hamilton, heathers, and les mis crossover (but i mean if you want to understand everything you should read.)

If theres spelling mistakes, sorry

Note: Everyone on the smp has three canon lives, and when you loose all three you're canonically dead (except philza minecraft. he has one canon life bc hes known as the hardcore guy bc he had a minecraft hardcore series for 6 years until he was killed by a spider while trying to fight a baby zombie lmaoooooo)

IMPORTANT: THIS IS ALL RP. IRL THEY’RE ALL FRIENDS. THERES A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE PLAYER AND THE CHARACTER. THE RELATIONSHIPS AREN’T ACTUALLY TOGETHER IRL. ITS ALL THEIR CHARACTERS THAT THEY MADE UP. (obviously the best friends stuff are irl)

In the beginning there were 8: The Dream Team (Dream, Georgenotfound [the guy in my pfp btw :)] , Sapnap), Badboyhalo, Awesamdude, Ponk, Callahan, and Alyssa. Around this time, nothing much happened since it was all brand new, uhh yeah (this was around may-july of this year)

Then around late july new members joined: Tommyinnit, Tubbo, Wilbur Soot, Eret, Skeppy, Fundy, Punz, Purpled, and Schlatt. This part is very important to the lore, because the lore kinda started off with the british (so tommy, tubbo, wilbur, eret) Schlatt was banned, cause Sapnap was the one who invited him and Dream didn't know who he was. He'll come up later.

So Wilbur and Tommy decided to create a new nation called "L'Manberg". Also around this time (i think) Nihachu and Jack Manifold joined. They also were part of L'Manberg. There was this huge revolution between Dream Smp and L'Manberg. Very historical period on this smp. In the end, (i think it was?) L'Manberg who won (if memory serves).

After that, L'Manberg had started growing bigger, with a lot more buildings added and stuff, notably Church Prime, which where they created a religion for Twitch Prime, which is how you can sub to your favorite twitch streamer for free if you link your amazon prime account. I'm pretty sure around this time, Quackity, Karl Jacobs (if you watch Mr. Beast; yes, that karl jacobs), HBomb, Technoblade, and Antfrost joined. And then the railway war started. It happened when Tommy accidentally ran over Dream with a Minecart and then took his stuff. This is how the disc war started (once again, if memory serves). The two discs Tommy owns are his prized possesions, and Dream took them. Also around this time the Pet War started, with Sapnap killing someones(i forgot oops) pet. And then more pet killing. Annnnd then even more.

Then there was the L'Manberg eletion. There was POG2020, who was Wilbur and Tommy, SWAG2020, Quackity and George, Coconut2020, Fundy and Nihachu, and Schlatt2020 which was Schlatt. Oh yeah and he got unbanned btw

SWAG2020 and Schlatt2020 decided to combine their votes, thus Shclatt became president and Quackity his vp. Oh and ever since the election Quackity has this grudge against George bc he slept through the election. Schlatt renamed L'Manberg to Manberg, and exiled Tommy and Wilbur from it.

Schlatt is a evil dictator who likes power. He and Quackity started fighting, and so Quackity became part of Tommy and Wilbur's side. Around this time was The Battle of the Lake and The Burning Eiffel Tower, both part of the pet war. (It seems like a innocent war but its actually brutal lmao) Also (irl) Mr. Beast had a $10,000 Taco Bell gift card hunt. Eret won. It was at the cords 6969,420, because haha funny number haha weed number. This has nothing to do with the lore but yeah. Eret also became King of the SMP 

Then there was the Manberg festival. It was to celebrate democracy, but Tubbo puts it as "i decorated my own execution" bc he helped decorate it, but he was murdered there. At the festival was the Manberg Massicare, where Technoblade was forced to shoot tubbo, but he released a firework rocket kiling Tubbo, Schlatt, Quackity, and a few others. Many people lost one of their canon lives. Wilbur went all J.D like and planted 11 stacks of TNT underneath Manberg, and wanted to blow it up.

Pogtopia was formed, which is a ravine which i think is underneath? manberg? Which included basically everybody who wasn't neutral or with schlatt. On November 16 was the Manberg VS Pogtopia war, but the Badlands were also there. The Badlands is a nation of four people: Bbh, Skeppy, Awesamdude, and Antfrost. They faught with the loosing side, so the chaos could continue. Eret disobeyed Dream and got stripped of his royalty, and gave it to George. Oh and during this time, George had no idea there was a war and was building a cottagecore mushroom house with callahan and was very confused with all the death messages in the chat. Schlatt died canonically of a heart attack or stroke (no one knows tbh). Tommy became president, passed it to wilbur bc he still has unfinished buissness with dream (the discs), and wilbur passed it to Tubbo, who made Tommy his vp. Technoblade then argued about how government is bad, and they're just repeating history. Philza Minecraft joined the server, but no one could find him, until Wilbur blew up L'Manberg (they rechanged the name also). Wilbur then made Philza kill him, so Wilbur also became canonically dead. Then Techno, still mad at L'Manberg and governments, summoned two withers and made it attack the others. The Geogre decided to check out what was happening and helped fight. After the chaos, Captain Puffy and ConnorEatsPants joined the smp. About one to two weeks later Vikkstar and LazarBeam joined, then about three months after that Ranboo joined.

They rebuilt L'Manberg on stilts, and there water where the explosion was, but now with coral and stuff to make it all pretty. Tommy and Ranboo decided to go steal from Georges mushroom house, but then also griefed it and burnt it, and Dream, being a George simp, built obsidian walls around L'Manberg. They took Tommy to court, and was put on probation. Then Tommy got exiled (again) but this time by his own best friend. This made Quackity vp and Fundy secutary of state. Dream also took Georges king thing and gave it back to Eret because Eret has a good relationship with everybody, whereas George being King just caused chaos cause hes close to Dream. Quackity and Karl made Mexican L'Manberg, and George and Sapnap joined in also. War against Dream SMP, it was a negotiation and it got renamed into El Rapids (reference to Chilling in Cedar Rapids, which Hilary Clinton once said, and Quackity referenced it, got it trending #1 one twitter (well i mean dsmp gets things trending like everyday but), and got DONALD TRUMP TO SUBTWEET HIM. (This happened irl)

In his exile, Ghostbur (wilbur as ghost) and Tommy made Logstedshire, and Dream was often there to watch him. Dream then blew it up, and now Tommy is living with Techno in his arctic place. Currently, Quackity made a thing called The Butcher Army, so they could execute Techno. Tubbo, Quackity, Fundy, and I also think Ranboo? are trying to get another festival, and yes its a secret execution plan, but for them to kill Dream, who they realized is who they need to kill first. The disc war is still not over. Tommy has one of his discs, but Skeppy is in possesion of the other one.

Unluckily for Tommy (reguarding the discs), something happened in the Badlands. Bbh was digging out his underground statue room (he plans to make a statue of everyone of the server) and found this crimson egg. He, Antfrost, and Captain Puffy kinda got possesed. Also since Skeppy didn't really hang out on the server at night, but bbh does (OF FUCK I FORGOT TO MENTION HE AND BBH ARE BEST FRIENDS) Captain Puffy created Discount Skeppy, which is her in a Skeppy skin. Skeppy found out, had a little conflict with her during her stream, but it was resolved, and at one point in the stream, he asked bbh to choose between him and the egg, and when bbh didn't answer, he went to the egg, put himself inside it, and logged off. Couple days later, bbh and puffy got him out, hes now possed by the crimson, called Technoblade his "best friend" infront of bbh, and is now living in a grass hut. Bad is convinced theres still some skeppt left, but yeah. Skeppy also wanted to burn the disc.

End of lore for now, bc its like if you miss ONE STREAM YOU MISS LIKE A REALLY IMPORTANT EVENT AND ITS STRESSFUL

Not much part of lore but Nihachu and Captain Puffy once went on a date. They’re both bi irl and Puffy was on Nihachu’s Love or Host (twitch dating show. its really entertaining) Captain Puffy was a contestant, and chose love. (LoH is also how Nihachu and Wilbur met.) 

Funfact: Theres 5 irl lgbtq+ ppl on the server (people who came out, anyways cause you never know, ya know?) Antfrost is gay, Eret, Nihachu, Captain Puffy are all bi, and Karl Jacobs is ace spec 

Family stuff: Philza Minecraft (he'll come up later) had two twins with a Samsung Smart Refrigerator in the 70's. The two twins being Wilbur and Technoblade (he'll come up later also) and also had another son, Tommy. They also adopted Tubbo, who they found in a box on the side of the road. When he grew up, Wilbur met Sally the Salmon, and they had a fox together (dont ask just go with it), which was Fundy. (The character) Fundy is trans, and yeah . Bbh is a dad to sapnap and yeah

Oh and a new member is coming on today on Quackity’s stream (twitch.tv/quackityhq at 5pm CST if you want to watch) 

I left out some parts, sorry, but theres always the wiki...

Wilbur Soot is also a musician! He wrote I’m In Love With an Egirl, The Internet Ruined Me, and Your New Boyfriend. (did you know the last one beat taylor swift for #1 trending on youtube? idk why but im really proud of him for that) They’re all catJam’s. Go listen!