#The writing is to blame

[doodlegirl1998]

The reason why I can't behind any of the characters or things they do is that they're made into hypocrites.

You got Mina and Eijirou who're against bullies yet are friends with Bakugou don't do anything when he gets onto All Might.

Hawks who had a past with an abusive father and when Endeavor is exposed as one, he doesn't react or say anything about it.

Izuku with his quirkless past yet doesn't offer any sympathy towards those like him, like how he tried to make Nighteye laugh or Aoyama.

And then there's Aizawa... the guy's a walking hypocrite so I don't feel like going into any of the things he did.

All this makes it difficult to really get behind and like these characters when they contradict their characteristics this much all to make the worse characters look good.

Hi @theloganator101 👋,

Exactly this. Hori's characters act how HE wants them to to service the plot rather than what would fit their characters. So we have situations like this where they become hypocrites and bad things are implied about them. We have talked about Aizawa before so I'll focus on Izuku, Kirishima, Mina and Hawks.

Izuku - was quirkless, was horrifically abused by Bakugou for this as well as daring to try to help him out a river once.

Also Izuku - is NOT allowed once to reflect on the similarities between Aoyama and himself. Is NOT allowed to think one bit on his quirkless past or the horrific bullying (abuse) he went through. Does not seek to change the status quo now that he is a part of it. Or think about how HE could change how quirkless are being treated. This in my most charitable interpretation could be Izuku's self hatred coming out full force, he doesn't want to think about when he was quirkless so he doesn't. But this could also be construed as arrogance, stupidity and narrow minded-ness.

Izuku - knows in graphic detail the Todofam situation, is best friends with Todoroki Shoto and confronted Endeav for being a POS when he first met him.

Also Izuku - Acts like a fanboy of Endeavor in the agency arc and defends Endeavor to Dabi's face (another of Endeavor's victims.) - This puts a sour taste in my mouth not going to lie, this reads as Izuku thinking, 'because he's nice to me and he says he's going to change all is good now!' Also (unlike defending Shoto) defending Endeav just isn't necessary here. No one is denying Endeavor's mentorship or heroism skills. Dabi is saying he is an abuser and a shit dad which - you know - he is. Izuku reads as a naive, narrow-minded teenager at best here. There are better ways Hori could have worded Izuku stepping in - this wasn't it.

Mina and Kirishima: 'We hate bullies!' 😠 Very vocally anti bully, their heroism stories each center on it.

Also Mina and Kirishima: look on as Bakugou acts like the BIGGEST bully for all of the academic year and decide to become his besties. - This can be read as them being too thick to work out Bakugou is a bully at best. At worst... They read as cowards and hypocrites. The 'It's ok as long as he's not picking on me or my friends,' type.

Hawks: has an abusive father that was taken into custody by Endeav before being taken by the HPSC and enduring more intense training (likely abuse.)

Also Hawks: Despite his past abuse as an adult licks the boots of another abusive father, Endeav (Endeav's boots must be super shiny.) - Are we still pretending Hawks is an actual character at this point? All he is now is an Endeav Simp with some 'I killed Twice' angst sprinkled in. But I will save the major pieces of salt regarding Hawks for the ask I have about him. Least charitable interpretation - Hawks has LOW empathy thanks to his abusive childhood and latches on hard to a select few (Endeav) who he will protect, screw everyone else. Hawks doesn't care about Endeav's past child abuse, spousal abuse and literal crimes just what he means to him. Most Charitable - Hawks is an abused messed up person who never grew up past his idealisation of Endeav and clung to anything that meant he could keep the 'hero Endeav' in his mind intact.

With all of these deductions in mind, characters we are meant to root for feel flat, hypocritical, OOC and just downright bizarre at times.

Why? Because Hori bends characters to his script rather than writing the script for what works for the characters.

#mha critical #Bnha critical #Anti Ashido Mina #Anti Kirishima Ejiro #Midoriya Izuku critical #Anti Hawks #Sorry but it had to be said #The writing is to blame #Anti Bakugou #Anti Bakugou Katsuki #Anti Endeavor

[inky-duchess]

Fantasy Guide to Building A Culture

Culture is defined by a collection of morals, ethics, traditions, customs and behaviours shared by a group of people.

Hierarchy and Social Structures

Within every culture, there is a hierarchy. Hierarchies are an important part of any culture, usually do ingrained that one within the culture wouldn't even question it. Hierarchy can be established either by age, gender or wealth and could even determine roles within their society. Sometimes hierarchy can may be oppressive and rigid whilst other times, ranks can intermingle without trouble. You should consider how these different ranks interact with one another and whether there are any special gestures or acts of deference one must pay to those higher than them. For example, the Khasi people of Meghalaya (Northern India), are strictly matrillineal. Women run the households, inheritance runs through the female line, and the men of the culture typically defer to their mothers and wives. Here are a few questions to consider:

How is a leader determined within the culture as a whole and the family unit?

Is the culture matriarchal? Patriarchal? Or does gender even matter?

How would one recognise the different ranks?

How would one act around somebody higher ranking? How would somebody he expected to act around somebody lower ranking?

Can one move socially? If not, why? If so, how?

Traditions and Customs

Traditions are a staple in any culture. These can be gestures or living life a certain way or to the way a certain person should look. Traditions are a personal detail to culture, they are what make it important. Tradition can dictate how one should keep their home, run their family, take care of their appearance, act in public and even determine relationship. Tradition can also be a double edged sword. Traditions can also be restrictive and allow a culture to push away a former member if they do not adhere to them, eg Traditional expectations of chastity led to thousands of Irish women being imprisoned at the Magdelene Laundries. Customs could be anything from how one treats another, to how they greet someone.

How important is tradition?

What are some rituals your culture undertakes?

What are some traditional values in your world? Does it effect daily life?

Are there any traditions that determine one's status?

Values and Opinions

Values and Opinions are the bread and butter of any culture. This is the way your culture sees the world and how they approach different life hurdles. These may differ with other cultures and be considered odd to outsiders, what one culture may value another may not and what opinion another holds, one may not. There will be historical and traditional reasons to why these values and opinions are held. Cultures usually have a paragon to which they hold their members to, a list of characteristics that they expect one to if not adhere to then aspire to. The Yoruba people value honesty, hard work, courage and integrity. Here are some questions to consider?

How important are these ethics and core values? Could somebody be ostracised for not living up to them?

What are some morals that clash with other cultures?

What does your culture precieved to be right? Or wrong?

What are some opinions that are considered to be taboo in your culture? Why?

Dress Code

For many cultures, the way somebody dresses can be important. History and ethics can effect how one is meant to be dressed such as an expectation of chastity, can impose strict modesty. While other cultures, put more importance on details, the different sorts of clothes worn and when or what colour one might wear. The Palestinian people (من النهر إلى البحر ، قد يكونون أحرارا) denoted different family ties, marriage status and wealth by the embroidery and detailing on their thoub.

Are there traditional clothes for your world? Are they something somebody wears on a daily basis or just on occasion?

Are there any rules around what people can wear?

What would be considered formal dress? Casual dress?

What would happen if somebody wore the wrong clothes to an event?

Language

Language can also be ingrained as part of a Culture. It can be a specific way one speaks or a an entirely different language. For example, in the Southern States of America, one can engage in a sort of double talk, saying something that sounds sweet whilst delivering something pointed. Bless their heart. I have a post on creating your own language here.

Arts, Music and Craft

Many cultures are known for different styles of dance, their artwork and crafts. Art is a great part of culture, a way for people to express themselves and their culture in art form. Dance can be an integral part of culture, such as céilí dance in Ireland or the Polka in the Czech Republic. Handicrafts could also be important in culture, such as knitting in Scottish culture and Hebron glass in Palestine. Music is also close to culture, from traditional kinds of singing such as the White Voice in Ukraine and the playing of certain instruments such as the mvet.

Food and Diet

The way a culture prepares or intakes or treats certain foods are important to a culture. In some cultures, there is a diet yo adhere to, certain foods are completely banned. With Jewish culture, pork is prohibited along with fish such as sturgeon, along with shellfish and certain fowl. Meat must also be prepared in a certain way and animal byproducts such as dairy, must never be created or even eaten around this meat. This is known as kosher. The way one consumes food is also important to culture. In some cultures, only certain people may eat together. Some cultures place important on how food is eaten. In Nigerian culture, the oldest guests are served first usually the men before the women. In Japanese culture, one must say 'itadakimasu' (I recieve) before eating. Culture may also include fasting, periods of time one doesn't intake food for a specific reason.

What are some traditional dishes in your world?

What would be a basic diet for the common man?

What's considered a delicacy?

Is there a societal difference in diet? What are the factors that effect diet between classes?

Is there any influence from other cuisines? If not, why not? If so, to what extent?

What would a typical breakfast contain?

What meals are served during the day?

What's considered a comfort food or drink?

Are there any restrictions on who can eat what or when?

Are there any banned foods?

What stance does your world take on alcohol? Is it legal? Can anybody consume it?

Are there any dining customs? Are traditions?

Is there a difference in formal meals or casual meals? If so, what's involved?

Are there any gestures or actions unacceptable at the dinner table?

How are guests treated at meals? If they are given deference, how so?

#Fantasy Guide to Building A Culture #As promised #If I fail my German exam I'm blaming ye #Culture #Building a culture #Fantasy Guide #WorldBuilding #WorldBuilding guide #WorldBuilding help #Writing help #writing #writeblr #writing resources #writing reference #writing advice #ask answered questions #writers #writing advice writing resources #spilled ink #ask answered

[fandom-trash-goblin]

Let me tell you a story. It goes like this: my father is the worst man alive, and i am his favourite daughter

— on fathers, mirrors, and unwanted inheritances.

twitter user @/yesindeeder // Doomed From The Beginning - written by @/veniennes on tiktok // in image // I Would Leave Me If I Could- Halsey // in image // in image //nimmieamee on ao3 // Ptolemea, Ethel Cain // Benjamin Alire Sáenz - Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe // in image // evansville from tumblr user filmnoirsbian // Snow and Dirty Rain - Richard Siken // Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong

#webweaving #webweave #poetry #aesthetic #quotes #spilled ink #poems and poetry #poems and quotes #brought to you by the fact that daddy issues is such a vile sentence. why is it the child on whom the blame is pinned? #to be clear. i love my father. that doesn't mean i can't hate him. #writing #poem #spilled poetry #words #spilled thoughts #dark academia #web weaving #*mine: graphics #added sources: 2/4/24

[emjiroki]

Yuuta begs everytime to take the condom off. Wants to feel the warmth of you around him gripping him raw so bad he's near tears. Whimpering cries against your chest, throat, shoulder, anywhere he can sink his teeth

"Please baby, this time? Can I this time?"

"Wanna feel you all wet for me just once, let me slip it in please"

"Promise I'll be good"

The night you finally peel the latex off and give him the okay is the best night of his life.

He pulls three orgasms from you before hiking your legs over his shoulders and thrusting his sensitive cock in so deep he cums bucket loads against your womb, a contended sigh gracing your ears as he releases your legs and sits between your thighs to push his release back in with his fingers

#im having breeding thoughts #blame my hormones #yuuta okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu smut #jjk smut #em writes ✍ #em talks 👄 #late night ramblings 🚬

[appalachianapologies]

There are many new friends on the archive, and many are young and have only known social media, which is why I wanted to say something!

Ao3 does not have an algorithm! It isn't a social media site, it's an archive.

Posting fics on Tumblr isn't the same as posting fics on Ao3

Ao3 is like a giant virtual bookshelf, and everyone is able to add their own stories to the bookshelf, all stored with different tags and different fandoms. Works are automatically sorted by newest to oldest, but filters, looking at bookmarks, and using the search function can change that.

Certain works are not pushed to the top like social media posts. More kudos and reads don't push a single work to more viewers by some algorithm. Unless otherwise filtered, works will be at the top of the page based on how recent it was posted.

Smaller fandoms get less views, less kudos, less bookmarks, and larger fandoms get more simply because of the number of people inside the fandom.

Ao3 is a giant virtual bookshelf- there is no algorithm, and there is no man behind the shelf pushing certain books forward.

Happy reading, and if you'd like to have more people notice a fic, why not share it with them! Send a dm to a fandom friend and it might turn into one of their favorite fics!

#ao3 #archive of our own #organization for transformative works #i have admittedly only been a member of the committee for a couple of years BUT ive been a member on ao3 since i was much younger #and it took me a hot second to understand how ao3 works; so i wanted to write a lil post about it after seeing this comment #no shade or blame to the person who wrote this by the way! #after being on social media so much it's a completely understandable mistake and i totally get it #and in fandoms populated by younger ppl typically it's even more understandable! #so absolutely no hate no shade no passive aggressiveness #but i do think it is important to learn how the archive works #so if you'd like to share this it would be greatly appreciated! <3 #okay have a good day sorry this post/tags became so long haha

[the-witchhunter]

So Lucifer Morningstar, the fourth of the fallen, (retired) ruler of hell, the Devil himself, is a character in DC comics, appearing in the Sandman comics, his own solo run and various other comics

He is absurdly powerful

The thing is, Lucifer still has access to his Divine power, unlike other fallen angels, and is actually more powerful than other angels

What does this mean?

Lucifer was the guy that shaped the matter to create the stars, an ability he still has

Enter one Danny Fenton

“Omg(oh my ghost) I’m a HUGE FAN of your work”

Just Danny fangirling over the literal Devil because of stars and space

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #writing #danny fenton #space nerd Danny #lucifer morningstar #writing prompt #I just think it’s really funny #I gotta say Danny isn’t anywhere near Lucifer’s level #the guy still has power to manipulate and reshape matter of gods creation however he wishes #also has power over souls and ghosts are souls ergo he has power over ghosts #the thing Lucifer really hates is humans blaming him for their own evil #‘the devil made me do it’

[bruciemilf]

Headcanon that, every year on their birthday, Kryptonians get new superpowers.

Clark doesn’t really keep track; That’s Bruce’s job, for the most part. This year? Mediumship.

me·​di·​um·​ship

/the capacity, function, or profession of a spiritualistic medium/

“Communication with spirits,” Bruce has this habit of nicking his thumb with his teeth, pretty, hazel eyes glossy with thought. Clark doesn’t need supervision to see how beautiful he is when his mind’s at work. “Fascinating.”

“Yep,”

Clark watches Thomas Wayne’s ghost give him the glare of the century behind his son’s back.

The skin of his jawline is entirely ripped off, peeled by Joe Chill’s gun, like the news article said. Sincerely, the Wayne glare scares Clark more.

“Fascinating.”

#thomas being a protective father and fucking with every suitor from #beyond the grave my beloved. he bothers Clark in small — but infuriating — ways. breaking all the chargers in his home. #so Clark can’t work from home or get work done on time. shut off the electricity in the middle of his interviews or meetings. #or talking to Bruce. writing articles about Perry white and blaming it on Clark. calling Lex Luthor hot. #PROTECTIVE DADDY THOMAS THATS ALL #bruce wayne #superbat #battinson #clark kent #thomas wayne #dc comics #dc #batman #text #text post

[starry-songs-canvas]

Not Coming

“Bruce! They’re not coming!”

Bruce Wayne’s newest adoptive son shouts at him with worrying certainty, especially considering the turn this kidnapping incident has turned into. What, with the falling burning plane all around them.

“Superman can hear-“

“No, Bruce. That’s just some stupid marketing ploy the Justice league uses to deter crime.” Danny sighs bitterly, (tiredly, hopelessly) as his shoulders slump slightly.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc writing prompt #Danny doesn’t blame the Justice league #…exactly #I mean he only has to save the world once a month #Danny thinks Superman’s hearing is just a criminal deterrent #Danny doesn’t want to be mad at the Justice league #cause yknow… TUE? #Still feels guilty for that

[milkweedman]

fiber arts really is such an insane category of Things in how it can draw you in. like, 6 or 7 years ago i learnt to crochet and made a few terrible hats and scarves. then i learnt to knit because i wanted to knit a scarf for my friend (now fiance :D). then i realized it should be a woven scarf so i picked up weaving instead, but i still really liked knitting so now i was doing 3 crafts. somewhere along the way i started dyeing yarn as part of my kitchen experiments, and then i was like fuck it i wanna make my own yarn ! and that is where the problems happened. in the span of like 5 years ive acquired like $2000 of various tools (spinning wheel, combs, cards, blending board, several looms, etc), bought dozens of fleeces, and now my bedroom is basically a craft room with a bed, i have wool covering every flat surface in there as well as a huge dresser full of wool and several large drawers full of wool, i meticulously scrape every last bit of avocado out of the peel so i can use it to dye fleece, and i don’t go anywhere (including in my own house) without at least 2 knitting projects and a spindle.

im not complaining or anything, but the rapid shift from ‘guy who does stuff, idk’ to ‘guy who is worryingly obsessed with wool and will infodump at length about medieval sheep husbandry and the history of nettle as a textile if you give him half a chance’ is like. extremely funny to me.

#this is what happens if you mix adhd autism and wool i think #its got the Textures. its got the stimmy movements. its got the Things To Do Idly With My Hands So I Don't Start Dislocating My Thumbs #like. its crazy #sorry the edible hit like halfway thru writing this #idk where i was going with it xD #spinning #and yes ives youre to blame for 90% of this i think #<3

[taohs]

(some) Balalaika moments that lives in my head rent free

#blacklagoonedit #black lagoon #balalaika #mine #e:gifs #usersenka #userroh #usermoh #userkyaa #userinahochi #tusersin #oldanimeedit #ive fallen in love with giffing old anime #look at her...! 😭 #she’s war crazy and does criminal things but she’s still not like... inherently evil or malicious #considering her backstory i don’t blame her for being ruthless!!! #also she's so Hot and seductive but i find her so endearing especially when she’s just being casual #balalaika: *threatens people at gunpoint* me: no listen to me guys she can be cute- #me writing a paragraph on just me being in love with her ksjshd #notes dont matter to me i just want some people to appreciate this beauty *_*

[mikonez]

going places, doing things, pining on the passenger seat

#listen look at arthur can you blame oscar #hey! 👉🏻👈🏻 whomsoever reads this do you want to mayhaps write some more blindfaith fics? #because I am struggling with the 26 existing ones (ive read them all) #malevolent #malevolent podcast #my art #arthur lester #oscar #blind faith #fanart #art #animation

[lioniheart]

(It was based on a take I saw earlier today but I think it got deleted)

"Why don't you like me?" Steve asks, not meeting his eyes.

They were on the new Hopper-Byers's back porch, a little bit after dark. The rest of the party had gone inside a while ago but Steve wanted a smoke and Eddie decided to have one as well. It was quite chilly for a summer night, and the wind made both of them shiever a bit.

"Excuse me?!" Eddie replied, after a half a minute of confusion. "Who said I didn't like you?"

"C'mon, man, I know the kids say it a lot, but I'm not actually an idiot!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, princess?"

"See?! Right there! Look, I just don't get it. I know you overheard that conversation I had with Will last week, but I thought you were all for that non-conformist bullshit, and let me tell you, fucking with someone because of their sexuality is very "the man" of you!" His voice was still hushed, but Steve had turned all the way to Eddie's direction now, glaring at the metalhead with what he tried to make look like defiance on his eyes, but were clearly just hurt.

"Steve-"

"The thing is, you've been treating Will just like always, so maybe that isn't it, wich is so more confusing, because I really thought we were getting closer, but now you keep making these jokes and... I don't get it! Did I do something wrong?"

"What?! No--" the other tried to interrupt, but Steve's rambling just kept on coming.

"Is it because of high school? Is the ‘princess’ thing some kind of payback for the whole King Steve bullshit? Dude, I know I was a douchebag- hmpf!"

Eddie, sensing Steve was about to spiral, clasped his hand on top of the boy's mouth.

"Stevie, I'm going to need you to stop right there, okay?" His voice was calm, but his heart was racing. Steve's eyes were wide, his cheeks pink, and Eddie couldn't help but notice how much closer they were now. "I'm so sorry I made you feel like I was mocking you. That was definitely not the intention. The total opposite, actually.” Steve made a questioning noise behind the ringed hand “The princess thing was me being an idiot, actually. I was just..” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “I was trying to flirt with you, sweetheart. Apparently, I’m really bad at it.”

#i was gonna write more but i got sleepy #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steve harrington is a very confused guy #toxic masculinity and billy hargrove are to blame #pre steddie #post vecna #idk i never actually write anything but here we are #steddie ficlet

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “date ideas but make it a little more… out there. unconventional. possibly illegal” prompts 

Exploring abandoned train tracks together; taking those aesthetic Pinterest photos for the gram. 

Exploring actual haunted houses, with the full gear equipped.

Cemetery hopping.

Painting the walls with your bag of spray cans, in the narrow alleyways and where people won’t see you guys having a blast. (They call it graffiti, you call it art.)

Going to a thrift shop and buying clothes for each other (set a budget), going off on what you think their style would be, and only revealing what you bought to your date when you’ve purchased the articles of clothing and are out of the shop. Do a bit of a fashion show for each other!

Exploring abandoned properties together. (Beware: no trespassing if you want to up the thrill of it.)

Go to IKEA and pretend you guys are an actual couple; start an argument with each other over those tables that are put there for decoration. Or… Make it more tame. Pretend you’re shopping for your dream home, together. 

Going to a rage room together to fuck shit up and relieve some stress.

Ghost tours!

Sneaking into the movies without paying. On top of that, sneak in snacks from your local supermarket chain instead of paying for the ones at the cinemas/theatres. Tip: Don’t get caught.

#prompts #otp prompts #writing prompts #some of these are for fic usage not irl usage LMAO #writing scenarios #date ideas #if you do decide to use these ideas irl and get into trouble #do NOT blame me

[whathorselegs]

Insomniac Dazai and heavy sleeper Chuuya my beloveds.

Dazai and Chuuya where they're at the stage of not quite being together, but not-not together either, they have feelings for each other yet they still won't admit it, so they just keep having 'moments' that they deny afterwards.

And them having to share a bed.

They grumble about it, argue that someone should sleep one the couch or the floor, anywhere except together, until they settle on sleeping with their backs facing each other.

Dazai remains there, at the edge of his side of the bed, but Chuuya, as soon as he's asleep, he rolls onto his back. Mouth open, little snores escaping him, his arm and leg spreads out over the space of the bed. A finger touches Dazai's ribs, Chuuya's foot kicks at his calf as slowly but surely, in true mutt fashion, Chuuya takes over the entire bed.

Now, Dazai's on his back too, lay pin straight, shoulder as close to the edge of the bed as he dares to be without falling off. Every now and again he keeps having to shove Chuuya's arm and leg back over to his side of the bed. It started gently, he didn't want to wake the other up and be accused of messing with him whilst he slept. As the night wears on and Dazai's eyes get heavier he becomes more irritable as he pushes Chuuya back. At one point he said his name and tried to shake him awake, only to receive a incoherent sleepy mumble.

Dazai accepts his fate, rolling away from Chuuya once more with a huff. He didn't need space, or comfort. It was fine. He wasn't going to get any sleep anyhow, not with the noises of Chuuya moving around so much. He closes his eyes to fight the irritation in them.

And he's not sure when, but he must have drifted at some point, not quiet asleep, but not really awake either. The warmth of the blanket must have relaxed him. As he hums and re-adjusts his position to get comfy again, he realises his back presses into something. Something warm and soft, something that nestles back against him in reaction to his movement. He feels Chuuya's arm squeeze him closer around his middle and his heart leaps into his throat.

With how heavy a sleeper Chuuya is, he should be fine trying to move away. He can just spend the rest of the night on the couch. Even as he thinks this, the disobedient muscles of his limbs relax. His breath without realising it had slowed to match Chuuya's, and he suddenly feels quite weightless. Dazai couldn't move if he wanted and deep down he doesn't.

For the first time in a long while Dazai fall asleep with ease.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #my writing #bsd #bsd skk #soukoku #and then they wake up in the morning and pretend to be disgusted #I blame Nawy and their post about love hotels and there's only one bed tropes for making me think of this nonstop since #this is also touch starved Dazai

[royalarchivist]

Foolish: You know what? Fit: it's the perfect alibi. "Just a janitor," going through... just to cleaning around everywhere... talk to a lot of people... and you're just bald and such, you know, no one would think twice that you- may be you'd up to something.

Fit: Foolish that's- that's literally the entire point, we've been over this.

Pac: You like the plumber's work, right? You like to get your hand in the plumber's and- do the stuffs, and plumb [makes a very loud popping sound] those pipes, right?

[Everyone loses it and starts laughing]

Pac: I'm sorry- I'm sor- I'm- [laughs] I did- I didn't mean-

Fit: WAS THE SOUND NECESSARY???

Foolish: No, the sound made it.

Pac: I didn't- I didn't hear myself- sorry, sorry, sorry. Oh my god, I'm so shy right now, I'm just gonna sit.

[Full transcript ↓ ]

Foolish: You know what? Fit: it's the perfect alibi. "Just a janitor," going through... just to cleaning around everywhere... talk to a lot of people... and you're just bald and such, you know, no one would think twice that you- may be you'd up to something.

Fit: Foolish that's- that's literally the entire point, we've been over this.

Foolish: Have we?

Fit: I said I'm- I'm trying to find out more about like, the Code Monsters!

Foolish: I thought you just wanted- liked being a janitor.

Fit: Well, I actually do kinda like it, I'll be honest with you, I like getting paid, but-

Foolish: Wait damnnit, Philza's doing it right.

Pac: You like the plumber's work, right?

Fit: Yeah.

Pac: You like to get your hand in the plumber's and- do the stuffs, and plumb [makes a very loud popping sound] those pipes, right?

[Everyone loses it and starts laughing]

Pac: I'm sorry- I'm sor- I'm- [laughs] I did- I didn't mean-

Fit: WAS THE SOUND NECESSARY???

Foolish: No, the sound made it.

Pac: I didn't- I didn't hear myself- sorry, sorry, sorry. Oh my god, I'm so shy right now, I'm just gonna sit.

#FitMC #PacTW #HideDuo #FitPac #QSMP #FoolishGamers #Philza #Foolish #Pac #Fit #Phil #The reason this took so long to edit is 100% because it gave me THAT bad second-hand embarassment #Me: Thank god I finally finished editing this now I never have to listen to it again #Me realizing I still have to write the transcripts: FRICK #In Pac's defense: you actually couldn't hear the pop that well from most stream POVs #unfortunately on Fit and Phil's stream (esp. Phil's stream) it was frickin HD quality #and VERY loud #They let Pac get away with this WAY too easily but you know what #the way he covered his face like that and immediately sat down in game was very cute #so I can't blame them for giving him a free pass #he's very cute when he's flustered #I always like the side-by-side reaction comparisons and I hope y'all do too! #Phil's reactions are always funny #''Every day Philza Miinecraft is oppressed by the gays'' #Q #I really do need to spend less time doing stuff for this blog and the archive... #I'm not getting paid for it. It takes up way too much time #it is good video editing practice though but... #Edited

[birrdies]

“when I say you are killing me” (desert duo one-shot, 2.6k)

Every inch of his climb is agony. White-hot and endless, it ricochets through Scar’s body as if it bought an expressway pass through his veins like a highway. Would it have killed Grian to get an apartment on the first floor? Hell, Scar would even take something on the third or fourth-floor if he had to. Anything would be better than dragging himself, slowly and painfully, up twelve flights of rickety metal stairs. In the snow. In the middle of the night. Bleeding.

Scar’s having a bad night.

Blood dribbles between the gaps of his fingers. It’s slower than it had been, but each heave up another flight of stairs blinds him with pain and sends a few more fresh droplets of blood sliding down his middle. His shirt (whatever tatters remain of it anyway) and pants are wet and tacky, sticking to his skin like a perpetually wet bathing suit as he tries to climb the rest of the way up to Grian’s apartment.

The fire escape is an old decrepit fixture of rusting metal mounted to the brick siding with nothing more than a few loose bolts and a dream. It groans beneath his weight, the barest shake of wind causing the metal to ripple and shudder. The metal saps the warmth from his already cold, pale fingertips. He’d had gloves, but had to get rid of them as they were soaked in blood and not all-that conducive for climbing-under-the-influence (of blood loss). Scar’s not afraid of much, least of all heights, but he chooses each step up the fire escape carefully, muscle memory a crutch as he drags himself past open windows with the lights still on. Last thing he needs is another broadcast claiming HotGuy is nothing but a petty creep with a penchant for B&Es.

By the time he reaches the twelfth floor he’s shaking from head-to-to. Each breath sears through him, rivaling the sharp-edged pain of lightning, setting him alight. It burns through him, the aftershocks never ending as he pulls himself upright and grasps onto the edges of Grian’s windowsill. A pained whine catches between his teeth; he refuses to let it out.

Curled up at Grian’s windowsill as he peeks through the drawn curtains at the warm lamplight cascading through the glass, Scar finds the painful climb was well worth each and every second of agony. No better minded than a moth drawn to a flame Scar leans in to rest his forehead against the glass, the warm, golden glow from within Grian’s apartment beckoning him forward. Inside, Grian’s sitting at his desk around a cluster of books and papers strewn around as if a bomb had gone off. His hair is fuzzy and curled at the tips, as it always is whenever Grian lets it air dry after a shower. His shoulders are hunched and the sides of his face are illuminated by the blue glow of his laptop screen. Even through the glass Scar can hear the incessant clacking of his keys as he furiously types away at whatever assignment he’s working on.

It takes Scar more than one try to build up the courage to disturb him. He looks peaceful (or about as peaceful as someone working on a lab report can be), and Scar knows that peace will shatter the second he knocks, the second he barges in, yet again, on Grian’s evening and sweeps him up in his vigilante shenanigans.

Scar’s bloodied hands grasp onto the windowsill, red streaks staining the chipping white paint like a crime scene out of some gruesome horror movie Grian would have him watch. He winces at the sight; it’ll be a nightmare to scrub out. He’ll have to remember to buy Grian dinner one of these days to make it up to him and hope that Grian will have the heart, eventually, to forgive him.

“Grian,” he mumbles, startled to find his voice nothing more than a gravelly rasp. He reaches to knock, but his arms are as stiff as uncooked spaghetti noodles and don’t listen to a word he has to say. With a huff of frustration, Scar pitches his weight forward and thumps his head twice against the glass. The dull ache through his forehead is nothing compared to the feverish burning tearing through his chest and stomach.

Inside, a shadow bolts across the floor. Grian’s cat, Maui. In his chair Grian twists around at the sound. He’s wearing his glasses— Scar’s heart drops low in his stomach at the sight— and squints through the darkness to see Scar sheepishly waving at him through the glass, his breath fogging it up just enough to be seen.

He unfurls himself from his chair and comes to pry the window open. Scar comes face-to-face with his heart-patterned pajama pants, two sizes too big and pooling around his ankles. Wait, are those Scar’s?

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Grian is asking before Scar manages to start dragging himself in through the open window. It’s only for the briefest millisecond, in Grian’s ignorance, that Scar can be grateful for the starless, moonless night. The dark shields him not only from the prying eyes of neighbors, but from Grian’s scrutiny. In this dark he can’t see the blood, can’t see the tears in his shirt. In the dark, he might just look a little ruffled, no worse for wear than he usually is after a busy night patrolling. In the dark, he and Grian can pretend, albeit for only a second, that everything is normal.

But as the pain and dark corners throbbing in his periphery are keen on reminding him, everything is very much not normal.

“I seemed to have lost my watch,” Scar says as he pulls himself in through the open window. Every movement is measured, half-withheld, ginger— everything that Scar isn’t, and he’d be a fool to think Grian wouldn’t notice. He does immediately, because he’s Grian, and he’s never been truly ignorant when it comes to Scar, despite Scar’s best intentions.

Grian steps back with wide eyes. The color drains from his face as Scar holds his weight against the wall with one blood-slicked hand and struggles to stand at his full height. Every inch he tries to stand taller, the more the swelling edges of the wound start to pull and ache.

“Scar?” Grian’s face, usually so warm and vivid, especially under the light of his desk lamp, pales to a near lifeless color. He staggers toward him, hands held out in front of him as if to catch Scar. “Scar, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Right as rain, G,” Scar says, managing a wry smile. “Honest.”

“Don’t give me that.” Grian rushes forward, grabbing Scar around the shoulders and steering him towards the futon in the middle of the room. The second Grian touches him some of Scar’s pain fades, if not just because he has somewhere else to pitch his weight, to take some of the strain off his bloodied, torn middle.

The pair of them hobble to the futon, Grian whispering mumbled nothings as he lowers Scar onto the edge and forces him to sit back with firm hands on his shoulders. Scar allows himself the smallest mercy of relaxing into the cushions, his arms and legs limp at his sides as his head lulls back to rest against the back of the futon. It’s as if every string tying his marionette up, stringing him along, has been cut all at once. It’s somehow blissful and terrifying all at the same time. He’s not sure he’s ever been this roughed up, this exhausted.

And in front of Grian of all people?

Grian, whose face is drawn tight, whose shoulders and jaw are rigid as if he’s been made out of wood. Grian, who anxiously flutters at Scar’s side for a second before disappearing in a flurry toward the kitchen. Scar’s head is too heavy for him to lift, but he hears Grian rummaging and cursing under his breath before he returns just as quickly as he left. In his arms he balances a handful of small dishtowels, a first-aid kit, and a box of blue rubber gloves.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, to himself more than to Scar, as he sits on his knees on the cushion beside Scar and leans over to assess the wounds.

Gingerly he pulls the tattered shreds of his black shirt away from the wound-bed (as much as he can with some of the fabric stuck to his body with blood like glue) and winces at the gory sight. Scar’s skin is torn in jagged ridges, three gouge marks clawed from just under his ribs and down across his right abdomen. Thankfully, the worst of the bleeding seems to have stopped, dark, thick globules of blood already starting to stitch together like wads of hot glue around the wound, crusting on the skin.

Grian examines it all with a crease between his brow that Scar, after all this time, has come to know means he’s irritated. He’s always looked especially cute when he’s angry (part of the reason it’s just too easy for Scar to give into the temptation to push his buttons whenever possible), but the downturn of his lips, the whites of his eyes, reveals something far more serious. Worry. Grian’s worried about him, and maybe it’s the blood loss starting to get to Scar in earnest, but Scar finds he far prefers this sight. He can’t help but smile back at him, even though he knows it’ll likely earn him a punch when he’s no longer bleeding out on Grian’s couch.

“Scar.” Grian says his name as if he’s been saying it for a while, but Scar’s only just now hearing it. “This is bad. Like, really bad.”

Scar blinks down his nose at him, brow furrowed. “You should see the other guy,” he says with a weak huff of laughter. “Stuck him so full of arrows you could call him a porcupine.”

“Scar, this is serious,” Grian admonishes, snapping on a pair of gloves and brushing his hair from his eyes.

“But you’re gonna fix me right up, ain’t you, Doc?” Sar teases, lifting his head just enough to catch Grian’s scowl as he flicks open the first-aid kit and fishes out a small brown bottle.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” Grian says, and there he goes again— detached, analytical, dawning his ‘I’m calm and collected’ persona. He pulls a pair of scissors out of the first-aid kit and tests the snap of them. “This doesn’t look like it was from some kind of a knife—”

“Ravager,” Scar says, gritting his teeth in anticipation. “Jerk got too close.”

Grian raises an eyebrow. “Sounds more like you got too cocky.”

Again, Scar finds himself fighting (and failing) to conceal a smug little smile. “You’re worried about me, just say it.”

“I’m pissed off is what I am,” Grian snaps. He peels up one edge of Scar’s shirt and begins cutting away as much of the fabric as he can without disturbing the edges of Scar’s wounds. He winces only when the shirt tugs too sharply on the red, puffy edges of the wound. And Grian, to Scar’s surprise, nearly flinches every time he does.

“Sorry, sorry,” Grian whispers each time, sounding so unlike himself. His face is pale, and if Scar isn’t mistaken there’s the faintest tremble to his hand.

“It’s okay,” Scar says, just as hushed, as if the slightest movement or raise in his voice will spook Grian. “Do what you gotta do. I’m tough, I’m strong. I can take it.”

Grian scoffs and peels a foil lid from the bottle’s cap, dumping a bit of it onto a folded dishrag. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see how tough and strong you are once I start cleaning this.”

“Give me your worst, Doc.” Scar lets his head loll back to stare at the ceiling, taking as deep a breath as his tense, wounded chest will allow. The twinge of pain reminds him to stay awake, has his fingers curling into the fabric of the futon beneath him.

Grian doesn’t give Scar a warning, which he appreciates. The anticipation is the worst part. He grits his teeth and bares it as Grian firmly, but not violently, uses the alcohol-soaked rag to wash away the blood from his torn skin. Scar scrunches his eyes shut and breathes through it, the pain an unrelenting impulse racing through his veins like faulty circuitry gone haywire.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. Grian sits back on his heels and tosses the now blood-soaked rag to the floor. He wipes at the sweat blistering across his forehead with his arm, taking a shaky breath in as he examines his handiwork.

“It’s not too deep,” he says, sounding the slightest bit relieved. He twists to reach for the first-aid kit again. “You’re lucky I swiped this stuff from the lab. Though I won’t begin to guess why you came here instead of a hospital. This needs stitches, probably.”

“Eh, I’m not worried about another scar,” Scar dismisses, ignoring the small beads of sweat starting to gather on his own brow. He can’t handle Grian thinking he’s caused him any more pain; the only thing worse than suffering as he is now is to watch Grian torture himself over things he can’t control. Like Scar. “Besides, I can’t exactly keep up the whole secret identity thing if I go to a hospital half in costume, now can I?”

“Secret identity,” Grian parrots mockingly, unraveling a bundle of bandages and starting to tack them down around Scar’s middle. “You nearly got gutted, and that’s what you’re worried about. Of course.”

He’s angry. Scar would be an idiot to not be able to see it, and maybe it shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. But it’s not the anger that catches Scar off guard. It’s what lingers beneath it: Grian’s gloved, trembling hands, the way he can’t look Scar in the eye more than a second before having to look away, burying himself in sorting through the first-aid kit for the fourth time as if looking for something to help and, just like every other time, coming up empty-handed.

Grian’s scared.

Scar’s known Grian for years now, and over that time he’s been a lot of things. Angry, judgmental, infectiously funny, bright. But afraid has never been a word Scar has used to describe him.

“Grian…”

“Of course I’m worried,” Grian says, catching Scar off guard. His voice is so quiet, so hushed that Scar wonders if he imagined it. Because something so vulnerable and soft sounding couldn’t come from someone as headstrong and impervious as Grian. It simply isn’t possible. “How could I not be? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Hey.” Scar can’t dream of sitting up, but he manages to leverage himself up just enough to reach for Grian’s wrist. He’ll feel bad about staining Grian’s sleeves with blood later. For now he needs to grab hold of him, pull him in close. To reassure him. “I’m fine. I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m in good hands, yeah?”

“Scar,” Grian says, sounding like he’s about to start crying. He curls his fingers into a weak fist, as if to pull from Scar’s grasp, but he doesn’t try it. He only holds it there, waiting. “I’m not exactly qualified. I’m a bio student, not a—”

“You’re doing fine,” Scar insists, caressing the inner aspect of Grian’s wrist with his thumb. There, he can feel the furious pace Grian’s heart takes on at the touch, like his pulse is ready to leap out from beneath the thin layer of skin. He flashes a smile, just to prove it to Grian. “I’ve bounced back from a lot worse than this. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it alone this time.”

#desert duo #desert duo fic #scarian #<- just in case #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #birdie writes #sometimes I forget I am a writer and forget to post the things I’ve been writing like a madman #blame fishbloc for making me post this one