#and i also know people tend to not like reblogging long comics but anyone who does i'm incredibly grateful ;A;

[laurzzz]

Robo-Boyfriends AU (My Sona Version) - Effort

Woe word-less comic be upon ye! I think it's very fitting with my sona being mouthless LMAO. I haven't worked on RBAU in a short while so take this thingy before I continue to work on MO again :thumbsup::thumbsup:

Explanation/vent under the cut (it's VERY long, so know you've been warned)

I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending it doesn't affect me at all. I'm tired of not wanting to express genuine frustration on my blog. I've been trying my best to keep my blog and every other platform I have as a place of escape for myself. I want it to only be filled with mostly good and optimistic things. I already get enough crap and more in my private life, I don't want to see reminders of them in places where I want to escape. Which is why I've been pretending to not see the numbers, that I don't feel under appreciated, that I don't vent as much when I want to or when I do I'm quick to delete them.

I know that many artists online go through this and have expressed their frustration on this experience-- where they put in so much effort and time on their works and they barely get any feedback or interactions or when they do get feedback it's often on the works they don't even put that much effort in. I love RBAU and Cloud Nine.. they're my AUs that basically gained the most traction here but the time and effort I gave to making those comics and random pieces of gradient-themed drawings don't even compare to the rendered pieces or the animated works I've made for them.

As much as I appreciate the reblogs and comments on the posts that reached so many people, I often wonder why it's always the works that I didn't put my all into. It makes me feel discouraged... not in continuing to draw or make creative work, but to actually put in more effort. But if I'd do that--stop putting in more effort-- then I would only make myself even more miserable as I don't like stagnation. I hate stagnation. I hate getting bored of the things that mean so much to me. Sharing my art and improving on it means too much to me.

But it's weird because I tend to observe the interactions with other blogs. They look to put in so much effort and make such beautiful rendered pieces that I adore and yet they are appreciated as deserved. While there are artists who make "shitposts" (their words) who also gain so much traction and appreciation. This observation makes the voices in my brain start correlating the quality of my work to the interactions. If I'm being completely transparent, I get these thoughts a lot. But I also don't believe them. I don't want to believe them.

Before anyone starts saying "ohhh you shouldn't attach your appreciation of your work from external factors" etc etc-- I KNOW. I am FULLY aware. I'm completely aware and have rationalized this situation over and over. That this is just how the internet goes. That these are factors I don't have control over. That my work is gold and it doesn't have to be determined as such by numbers. That someday the people who appreciate my works will find me. I. Know.

Still, knowing these things doesn't make the feelings disappear. It's like I want to be mad, and cry at the same time but also understand that I just can't really do anything about this but let it be. It's as if the more I care about a project, the less likely people will. I don't want to pretend like I don't care about a project just for it to be appreciated. But I also don't want to feel as if I'm not getting as much appreciation or attention that I think my work deserves.

I've been experimenting with my works and how I post them here on Tumblr and on YT since last year. The ones that are shitposts are seriously what gets more attention AHAHAHA I am laughing with frustration. Look, I love making memes and poking fun with characters as much as the next viewer and artist but by god. I can't just keep churning out funny haha low substance stuff in exchange for interactions. That's not the kind of artist that I am. I like making things that has lore; that has depth to them. Like how I tend to make lore heavy AUs right after getting my silly, lighthearted works blow up just to remind myself that the relationship I have with my works will not grow if I keep chasing after the interactions, the numbers by prioritizing quantity over quality.

Or maybe people just don't like my ideas? I guess that's a possibility too. Maybe my ideas just don't resonate with people enough. It's not "consumable" enough. Or maybe they don't like my art/writing/animation style. Yet more factors that's out of my control. But I also get told that people like my art, my writings, my animations. And they mean so, so much to me. But it just doesn't add up sometimes, y'know? If people like my work and stick around because they like my art no matter the fandom then why don't I see it? Thoughts like these make me feel so ungrateful actually.

I'm sure there are many people who look up to me as an artist and think how "popular" I am. I've been told this so many times. And yet, I don't feel either of those as strongly. Hell, even as I type this long vent out, I feel like people will not even care. Or worse. Perhaps they may think I'm focusing on the wrong things or think I'm being insecure and jealous of other people's well-deserved appreciation from others.

For the record, I am not. I think every single (actual, not AI) artists put in so much effort and love to their own works most of the time and if they get appreciation for it then I'm sure as hell that they've been seeking for it too and now that they're getting it and it's there then they should bask in it and rejoice. They really should.

Sigh. This is getting far too long. I'll stop here. I hope my words and my thoughts came out clearly. I'm writing this out late at night. Don't worry, I'll still be putting in the effort I've been putting in lately. I'm still going to work on MO, and give my best to make Assassin Eclipse's design to be as on par with Assassins Sun and Moon. I'm still going to write and continue the lore in the fic. I'm still going to animate the lore-heavy Welcome Home animation I've been working on slowly day by day. I just wanted to let this all out. Venting it to my friends just seem to not be enough. I gotta express it where people can see it. I think this is just my last straw too. I've been holding out for so long and 2024 really hasn't been that kind to me lately that I just can't anymore.

Anyway, the next post will be much lighter, I promise.

#sorry i focused too much on my dca related works but this also applies to all the other fandom stuff ive created on here and on YT #oh also #thank you and shout out to xit #i was having doubts on posting this before i sleep tonight #but her recent answered ask unintentionally gave me courage #hey xit! if you see this i think youre cool #robo-boyfriends au #but with my sona instead of y/n #dca fandom #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #fnaf daycare attendant #laursdraws #cw vent

[mastcrmarksman]

KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER.

REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME : Izzy

PRONOUNS : they/them

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : I'll hand out my discord here and there, but you can reach me by DMs.

NAME OF MUSE(s) : Clint Barton, and then I've got a handful of other blogs; but Clint will literally devour my soul and I can't write anyone else when this happens (it's happening)

BEST EXPERIENCE : Honestly, this come back to tumblr after being away for like 3 years. The friendships and dynamics I've built with Clint on my return has been amazing, and I'm also very glad people like how I write him, cause I've pretty much picked up comic Clint and said "he's mine now. i'm giving him a whole new arc/plot/story to explore and away from canon" and people are buying into that. Thank you so much everyone! I love all my friends and writing partners here so much <3

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS : Uhhh, pet peeves? I don't quite get what's with people not liking posts anymore or using the reply/comment feature more, like if you see someone posting an hc. Take a second to read? Give it a like or comment a heart even, if you're really that pressed to control your likes..... Dealbreakers, I haven't encountered anyone, I guess it'd be just if I pushed to write or make smut centric, but no one is doing that.

MUSE PREFERENCES : I like characters that have an internal struggle (lol that could be anyone). I don't know. I try to write so many types of characters, but characters like Clint I always come back too. Honestly, whatever is the character type that's been Clint Barton and Pepper Potts.

PLOTS OR MEMES : Memes are usually good to start, but I definitely wouldn't mind doing more plotting and giving a general direction to a thread. Although, really memes are great, and I truly appreciate those who send a bunch of memes, or don't mind treating some memes as one shots ( i love one shots ; just look at the length of some of my ask responses )

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : Both. I want more shorter threads right now, but I have a knack for getting wordy and writing long things. This is why length matching does not matter, as long as there is enough substance to continue or something to help move something forward; a shorter reply to a longer reply is good; just as I tend to take a shorter thing and get longer with. This is also why I tend to like or mention with meme responses, like you can just reblog/save this and treat this as little one shot/drabble I wrote for you. I also tend to do the same.

BEST TIME TO WRITE : I don't get a lot of work, I am home all the time. So i'm bored a lot. So literally anytime, although I have a tendency to write a lot more late at night. For me, why I'm not writing is usually mood, or I don't have a very good set up for writing long haul; so if my neck, back, or hands and wrist start to cramp up cause my sit down to write isn't a good position/only position. That usually defeats me; like after I post this I will probably take a break, stretch, keep on my break and write a bit in a few hours.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : Yes and no / I don't know. I know I'm the type of neurospicy where Clint Barton has rotten my brain for like the past 15 years or something; and I've been writing him for like 10 years; that I'm probably funny like Clint is, but who actually knows lol. I try to be normal and healthy with muse and mun separation; even if his whole recovery arc is very important and real to me; and I will live in the delusion that is what I am getting from the comics as in I will just write it myself on my roleplay blog (this is a joke; legally I have to say that I think)

tagged by; @danversiism evil boops you infinity, ily tania <3

tagging: lol im suppose to tag people; if you wanna expose yourself, do it. flash the dash. i'll probably read it and like it.

#[ ooc ] izzy babbles #see why my mun tag is just izzy babbles #cause i babble a lot #question: short or long? #me: short. #also me: makes it long despite my best efforts. #i am but a cursed entity to roam this earth (joke again)

[auraboo]

About comment and interaction culture

Related to my last reblog, I table at cons and other pop culture events multiple times a year. While it's really heartwarming to encounter people who come by to tell me they love my art/writing and have been following me for years, it's also a baffling experience everytime. And it's specifically because online, I have usually no way to tell that my works are reaching an audience at all.

Most of the time I release art and writing to near complete radio silence. I'm used to it, I don't expect anything else because I know today's online culture has shifted to passive consumption and the way platforms function does not encourage interaction, but of course it often feels demoralising. I just tend to ignore it and keep going anyway because I still love the things I create and want to share them with the world.

It's just a really strange experience to have people come up to you irl and tell to your face that they're big fans and never miss a post, because I have no idea if anyone even sees what I post most of the time. And that's because without comments, likes, reblogs or other interaction there's literally no way to tell. Without cons I'd have no idea that I have fans or that someone out there likes my works enough to keep coming back to them. And I'm lucky, because I've decided to keep this as a hobby and not try to make a living out of it.

I don't know what the solution is - apps and platforms have made us timid to reach out to each other and trying to change that when the way they're designed encourages mindless, passive scrolling is very difficult, if not impossible for individual users. It's hard for me too - I find reblogging unnerving nowadays, like I'm somehow being a bother or annoying the creator, that I need to have something long and meaningful to say in order to leave a comment (and that's the devil speaking). In the days of old deviantART and LiveJournal I used to be a very active commenter on the daily, but nowadays just saying "loved it" once a week seems to take mental effort.

And the people who do reach out, who do reblog, comment, like or anything else, I see you. I think about those interactions all the time, and it's a huge motivator, knowing that something little old me made resonated with someone out there enough for them to reach out with something.

This is not a rant or a guilt trip btw, I'm just having some thinky-thoughts after last weekend's comics festival and seeing a bunch of other posts discussing this.

#aura speaks

[aelaer]

Just saw your post about having to block the doctor strange x reader tag, and I must agree it's become the predominant DS fic that comes up as recommended on my feed as well. There are several authors I enjoy reading in that category (although lately the overall amount of fics is overwhelming), but I only started writing them myself as my stephen x ofc fics could never gain a bit of traction. I have a theory that if I went back and changed my ofc's to reader inserts, I'd probably gain a lot more readers--but I can never bring myself to doing that as I wouldn't be true to myself as an author.

I suppose that's just a writerly woe I'm sharing with someone who might understand.😏 But I'm curious; are you open to reading non-romance fics featuring original characters? I've found that tumblr can be quite snobbish towards that species of fic.

I wanted to reply to this ages ago but it requires my computer and some thinking, so I kept pushing it off again and again and again and whelp, here we are. My bad. ><

I'm the same way where being true to myself as an author is writing what I want, so I get you there. Doesn't get As Much Engagement as other tropes would, but y'know what, I can live with that. If anything, I've actually found that the fic I compromised most on (because it was for a themed exchange) is one I want to reread the least. So if anything, a lot of me writes for "do I want to reread this in the future" and that has helped me since.

It's funny since OFC romances used to be pretty popular way back when, but I guess "reader" took over that audience over the last decade because the majority of the people just wanted to insert themselves into the position instead of reading about a full-fleshed character? Honestly not sure.

Right, I keep delaying the reason I took so long to get back to you - non-romance fics with OCs. The answer, by the way, is yes. Great OCs are fantastic, but you don't tend to see many OCs outside of romance, or you only see them as side characters in another pairing's fic. They don't often have starring or co-starring roles. But I wanted to find examples with great OCs which would take time.

And now I'm taking that time. Here's some good OC-starring fics that I scoured through the tag. They're difficult to find. I had to smudge that requirement after a while. Then I gave up after I got to 2 years back in the tag.

Some of the stories that I know have very good OCs are also IronStrange, but I know that's not your cup of tea so I left it out. But I found a handful.

Keshwyn was the author that came to mind when you originally sent this ask, but I wanted to have more than one author when I wrote this. Read their series, highly recommend, top-tier OCs across the whole spectrum, with the main star being female.

This fic by LexLemon is technically PalmerStrange, but the OCs are her parents, so it's basically a delight in my eyes as Stephen's fish-out-of-water act is always funny to me.

Dragonnan writes good OCs, usually the mean sort though, the ones who hurt Stephen rather than befriend him (male and female lmao), but if you're in a whumpy mood at some point...

This isn't technically an OC, but I don't know the character from the comics, so she's an OC to me! This Stephen's new apprentice is Casey Kinmont fic by Stratagem. They just updated recently too, need to cheer them on at some point.

*sigh* Sorry love, I ran out of good OC fics that didn't have background/primary IronStrange that I could find/remember. But yeah. There's some fic/author recs.

(If anyone wants to add to the list, feel free to leave a comment or reblog. I was avoiding IronStrange for the asker in particular but I don't think the asker sees reblogs so go for it if you'd like).

Also, I love the OCs that I've come up with for my various stories in both LOTR and the MCU. I'll ramble all about them if you (or someone) wants me to, quite happily.

Hope that answers the question/reason for the ask, mostly.

#sobeautifullyobsessed #ask #answered #fic recs #stephen strange #fanfic #yes give me a reason to just write an essay about my ocs lmao #all the rp ones in particular were really well loved

[crusherthedoctor]

No listen because I am just SO tired of seeing this.

It's happened with 2012 TMNT and it's happening with Sonic, like in every single form of media Sonic has.

People watch/read something they don't like and spread unnecessary hate/rumors about the media as if it won't affect anyone else. I've been a victim of this for so long and I genuinely don't understand why people just can't decide to stop watching something if they don't like it. The only reason I think this happens is because they WANT to spread hate for the media and that upsets me so much.

I understand criticism. It is necessary when it is necessary. But you can't sit there and say "this isn't my Sonic" and then continue to read the comics and find "your Sonic". There is no one Sonic, and I am sick and tired of people treating him like some. Thing they can just take for themselves.

Sonic is allowed to express emotion. The problem that I have with him is that he doesn't do it often, but this isn't me complaining about it because this was an intentional choice by SEGA/IDW, they have proven and said it many times now. He is not some robot, it wouldn't make any sense for him to get back up from being electrocuted and almost drowned (which is one of his biggest fears, by the way) and be expected to be okay. That exact thing happened in Forces and you all complain about it, but you expect that to happen here??? Istg make up your minds.

What Surge said was a lot. What he went through was a lot. He's going to be tired and angry. It's normal and it's allowed.

I have said this before and I will say it again: If you don't like reading the comics, then stop reading them just to hate on them. And if you can't do that for some reason, then stop posting your hate in the idw Sonic tags, make a anti-idw tag if it appeases you. But stop making it seem like they're ruining Sonic's character when other people are trying to enjoy this new direction.

I already use an anti tag for my more bitter-tasting posts about the comic.

I already stopped buying the comic a long time ago, because I'm not going to waste money on somthing that continues to disappoint me. As for why I continue to acknowledge it, that's because pretending it's not there won't make it go away, especially since it's still ongoing and still influencing the rest of the franchise to an extent. Not to mention the sheer amount of influence that Ian Flynn in particular has been given lately. It's kind of impossible to ignore.

I already limit my thoughts to my own blog and the reblogs of those who share similar opinions. If I'm reblogging a comment of someone who likes the comic, it's usually for the sake of bringing up a valid point rather than going "fuck IDW" and leaving it at that. And I tend to use the aforementioned anti tag on top of that.

I already go out of my way to NOT hunt down IDW fans' blogs just to shit on them and their enjoyment, nor do I wish ill upon them for having a different opinion. You know. Like what they do with me and my friends.

Sonic is allowed to show emotion, yes. Neither me or anyone else who has criticised the comic has ever said that he shouldn't. But different characters express their emotions in different ways, and not every character is going to react with 100% emotion. Sonic is a subtle character despite his simplicity and outward demeanour, and the games - the core and meat of the franchise, whether you like it or not - have consistently shown that when he's feeling particular strong emotions, he does it in his own way. Are you seriously going to tell me with a straight face that he wasn't cold to Erazor and then sympathetic with Shahra in Secret Rings, or sad when he seemingly lost his friends in Lost World, or when Emerl died in Battle? Fans demand for nuance, and yet they refuse to see it when it's there, in favor of shallow drama where everyone calls out their feelings like a Pokemon attack.

Also, Sonic gets back up in the face of adversary all the time. It's one of the most consistent displays of his resolve, with Black Knight being a famous example.

Also-also, while Sonic does have trouble with water, him having an outright fear of water is something that's only true in adaptations and mistranslations.

As for Forces... complaining about what in Forces? I genuinely don't know what you're referring to here. Do you mean the line about torture? Because I don't actually mind that line as much as most fans do, even if was a bit hamfisted in execution.

And spreading hate and rumors? How about you take that complaint to the people who are actually guilty of that? As in, the stans who stalk and send threats to people like myself who don't like the comic, and try to gaslight us? I've never done that once, no matter how passionately I've ranted about my issues with the comic.

But it's always us, isn't it? The people who actually engage in legitimately twisted and dangerous behaviour are allowed to do what they do, but the moment you explain on your own blog why a comic's character decisions don't work, oh no, THAT'S inexcusable.

If you're going to request that I silence my problematic Sonic thoughts like a good little subservient, the least you could do is pay attention to what I actually do and don't do. Your inability to tolerate the mere thought that someone isn't in love with what this comic has been doing with the characters ("stop making it seem like they're ruining Sonic's character") is not my problem.

#Crusher's Asks #Opinion #Anti-IDW Sonic #Oh look it's that anti tag that I already use

[sbc-moved]

New year new promo baby

♡I’m Staci (19, she/her) and this is my self ship blog - interacts from @cupids-bow-and-arrow and follows from my personal blog (I don’t feel comfortable giving out the @)

♡ I’ve been selfshipping since I was 6, I joined the community in 2019 on a blog under the same name that’s now deleted, and I selfship mainly for fun and a bit for comfort!

♡ I’m a big fan of things like video games, anime and manga as well as all kinds of other Tv shows and movies (my favourites are comedies and horror/slasher). I also love to draw, write and make edits for my self ships which is what you’ll mainly see on my blog

♡ I’m a bit of a f/o hoarder- I tend to fall for characters very easily and because of this I have a verrrrry long list. Unfortunately I haven’t written it down, I’m personally pretty comfortable with sharing- so I’m fine with being moots even if we have a couple the same, however for my own personal comfort please don’t tag me in ship art or gush to me directly!

♡ my tagging system is a bit confusing, so I’ve outlined them here to help you navigate;

[♡.ink] for drawings that I’ve done, [♡.page] is for comics [♡.written in the stars] is my writing tag and [♡.on film] is for edits

[♡.txt] for my personal thoughts, [♡.message from beyond] general reblogs, mostly imagines and things like that

[♡.after hours] is my Nsfw/suggestive tag, [♡.bullet proof heart] is my vent tag, I don’t post in either of these very often and none of the content will be too explicit, but I ask that if your a minor/or you don’t wanna see this kind of content please block these tags!

[♡.love letters] is my gush tag, and [♡.mail box] is for general asks!

all f/os will be tagged with their names and what they are to me (romantic, platonic, familiar, etc)

♡ Lastly I’ll do my best to tag anything you need me to, this includes ships, triggers, fandoms etc. however I’m not always the best at remembering so please let me know if I ever forget or if you need a tag for something!

♡ I am generally okay with anyone and everyone interacting as long as you aren’t pro/comp ship/MAP/Zoo or anything like that. This includes ppl if who ship with real people or age up underage characters to ship with or age down your s/i

Also if you’re heavy on discourse- other than that we should get along :0

#self ship promo #self ship community #selfship #f/o community #self shipping #self insert community #♡.txt

[inkling0121]

I wish tmnt would put the others as leads rather than Leo I mean it's kind of gotten stale if Leo is always being the main like the others feel so far behind on development or interesting plots we have the last Ronin which thankfully put it as Mikey because that's something new to actually be hyped for because Raph and Leo have always been mains it's annoying and over done for Leo you know like him but find him annoying. I also dislike his fans because they force him into other angst things that have nothin to do with with him such as rise someone put 2012 Leo instead of Donnie being upset with Splinter and wanting him to spend time with him and it being rise Splinter that have nothing to do with him also ruse Leo is literally a Mikey 2.0 going off of 2003 personality wise I mean somewhat different but still similar. Idk it's just frustrating seeing how his fans have this mentality about Leo like He's my second favorite but like jfc. sorry for ranting it's just getting annoying seeing how far behind Donnie Raph and Mikey are at being developed or have anything interesting to do story wise they come off as background side characters a lot of the time compared to Leo who is basically the main character like you can make tmnt without the others as long as you have Leo basically because he's the most popular and recognizable turtle and as long as you have good writing it'll work.

I wouldn't say they're annoying, Leo is just their favorite character, and people tend to find angst for their favorite character. I certainly do with Mikey! I love Mikey angst! Can't get enough, so people do the same with Leo

Also I wouldn't say Leo is just Mikey done all over again, every Leo has made corny jokes in every iteration. 2003 has the worst humor but he still has humor, and 2012 is obsessed with Captain Ryan from his space show. Rise Leo is just that but with a bigger personality, and it may seem like Mikey done all over again, at the end of the day, I think its just the writers trying to make him seem more like a teenager

Also I wouldnt even say hes the most popular, even in the rise fandom! Donnie rivals him there, in fact I mostly meet Donnie fans out of all the turtles of every iteratio, then Raph and Mikey, and overall I know maybe one person whos favorite has always been Leo from the beginning, and thats a big maybe

As for him being the lead, hes the leader but not necessarily the only lead. Writers also tend to favor Raph, its always Raph and Leo in movies, and most of the time in shows

Comics, from what I've seen, tend to give them all equal roles (thank goodness), and I think with Mutant Mayhem we have the start of Mikey and Donnie having bigger roles! I dont want just anyone one turtle being the main focus, I want all of them to have equal roles! Thats what I like about tmnt as a whole, is they are brothers, theyre a team, and they work together

So yeah its annoying tmnt pushes only Raph and Leo in the front and tend to ignore Mikey and Donnie, but thats usually in shows and movies. There are PLENTY of fan artists and writers who adore Mikey and Donnie, you just have to find them, and that can be the trickey part. Look for smaller creators, not people everyone knows, and the best way for them to get bigger and (more importantly) motivated to write or draw more is to comment and share (or in tumblrs case, reblog)

#tmnt #asks #anon asks #rottmnt #ink answers

[infinityactual]

So, it's been months, but this post has been stuck in my head since September and I'm a petty bitch, so.

Apparently I deleted the screencap I had wherein the fuckhead who capped my tags replied to my fuck you by attempting to accuse me of 'doubling down on refusing to improve' or somesuch bullshit.

Which is not at all what my point was.

My point - and I will die on this hill ten times over - is that when it comes to fanart or personal creativity, let people do whatever. Unless they ask for critique, just leave them alone and let them have fun. Keep your opinions to yourself. And that isn't asking anything unreasonable; it's basic creative courtesy.

HUGE post under the cut.

Before the above assclownery, I had seen a lot of posts from people complaining about artists drawing older men 'wrong'. And I think every single complaint revolved around "You're just drawing a 20 yo and giving him silver hair!! That's not an old man!" and honestly, I didn't think anything of it the first few times I saw this.

But as I saw it more, it started to bother me because it was always in reference to fanart, specifically.

Fanart. Something that fans of a given media draw out of love and appreciation for the characters in said media. Something fun, something not (usually) done for profit. So upon seeing yet another 'stop drawing twentysomethings with silver hair 2021' tag, I reblogged it with my own tags (capped in the linked post) and went about my day.

The thing that just made me instantly angry was the proclamation of "I'm an artist. Calm down and go look at some reference."

Obviously this person didn't bother to check things out before putting both feet in their mouth. I may not have a damn degree from some hoity-toity art school (no shade on people that do, some of the coolest ppl I've met have art degrees) but I'm sure as hell an artist. Creativity does not require a degree.

And guess what. I draw old characters.

The secondary point I'd been hoping to get across in the tags is that aging a face is fucking hard. It takes effort and practice and often doesn't look good with hard lines. A lot of age is shown in shadows and lines too fine to be rendered with any but a .005 pen; and even then, it still tends look off unless you're drawing on a fairly large scale.

And my tertiary point was that people age differently depending on a huge kaleidoscope of factors! How often do they go outside? Do they have any inherited or otherwise chronic health problems, mental or physical? Male, female, intersex or transgender (and how much have they transitioned, if at all?), do they use drugs or alcohol? How often? I could spend hours listing factors that contribute to a person's appearance, and age isn't the biggest factor by far.

Hell, take Lord Hood and Lasky for example:

Most people I ask, including people well outside the Halo fandom, put Hood's age between 70 and 80.

He's 64.

A lot of people put Lasky at around his late 30s, maybe early 40s on the absolute outside.

He's 48 or 49 by the time Halo 5 rolls around, maybe 50 during Infinite.

Hood looks much older than he is bc of all those wrinkles, like someone let him sit in the dryer too long. Meanwhile Lasky looks a lot younger than his actual age. And these are just two examples from a single game series.

So when I draw Lasky, I draw him as is:

The only obvious wrinkles he has are on his forehead, right above his eyebrows. That's also one of his few unique identifying features, and anyone reading this who knows anything about cartooning, caricatures or comics will likely know that you focus on the few unique features that make a person recognizable but still easy to draw.

But unless you're drawing professionally as a career or doing commission work, your primary goal should not be constant improvement; that's a real good way to hit burnout and lose your passion for something. Even professionals take breaks and doodle stupid 'bad' art on their own time for funsies. I can cite countless examples I've seen personally, from the legendary DnD artist Todd Lockwood to commission artists on this beloved hellsite just trying to make the rent.

Fanart and personal work isn't always about improvement or practice. And it shouldn't be!! People need to have the ability to just crank out stupid lil doodles of their beloved older men without fussing over making sure they get every wrinkle right to be certain they convey his exact age 'correctly', or whether they have the skills to do so. If I had a dime for every thing I didn't draw because I don't have the skill, I'd put Jeff Bezoar to fucking shame with my wealth. Creators - amateur and professional alike - should be able to do this without having to see people, especially other fucking creators, bad mouthing them in posts or tags or comments.

Constant improvement should never be a primary goal with any skill. Bad art is still art, every single person who has ever put pen to paper started out drawing 'cringey' art. Fanart and personal work not done as part of a career or for commission should not be subject to the same standards. And lastly

Even 'bad' art, stupid little doodles and fanart still contribute to the learning process.

Otherwise I would not be where I am. All of my skill was developed by drawing personal stuff or making fanart. My skill making vinyl stickers by hand that makes people say I'm talented all started years ago with one sticker that took me five attempts to make because I didn't know jack shit about working with vinyl at the time. I kept making personal stickers for my car sporadically for years, and over time I got better simply because I was doing. I wasn't making stickers with the goal of improving my skill with an Xacto knife. I was making stickers because I couldn't find any designs I wanted and goddammit I wanted unique stickers for my shitty lil Cobalt.

And I'm able to take Giuseppe from this:

to this:

Not because I was trying to improve my skill at rendering faces, but because he's my Short King and I love him, and I love drawing him, and I also love the idea that he gets to live to be an old grandpa.

And no, I did not use reference for this, I just fucking drew it because I wanted to, and pulled from my past experience drawing old men from back when I actually DID sit my ass down and trawl references and guides on how to add age to a face, because I wanted to learn how to draw my 70+ year old Mechwarrior better.

#actual rants #art rant #the fucking reading comprehension on this site i swear to fucking god #and like what mindset makes you feel like you're obligated to give unsolicited critique #or bash fucking FANART of all things #hoky fucking shit its FANART #LIKE HOW HARD IS IT FOR SOME PEOPLE TO JUST LET OTHERS ENJOY SHIT #thank you and goodnight

[curufiin]

PSA to everyone wanting to join/already in the Megaman World discord server

[TW: slurs, grooming/pedophilia?, sexual content]

The read more thing doesn’t seem to work on tumblr mobile so bear with me lol

So, I’ve been in MMW for a year or two now. I left for some months, and then rejoined after being convinced by a friend. I’m considering leaving it again, mostly because of the owner of MMW, EncrypteData.

He is a disgusting person. While I do not have screenshot proof for many of the incidents listed in this post, you are free to ask my friend @pearl-the-artist (hi pearl). She’s been in the server far longer than I have and has seen more of Data’s shit.

First of all, he’s said the retard slur despite not actually being ND or autistic. (the last time he’s said retard(ed) in public is in 2020, but i assume he hasn’t actually stopped saying the slur in private)

[ID: EncrypteData’s many instances of saying the retard slur on the messaging program Discord. Some examples are,

“If I said don’t be a retard, you were probably doing something stupid and acting as such.”

“I said don’t be retarded... But difference.”

“Most people online (outside this server) I swear are retarded.” end ID]

He doesn’t pay his comic artists, many of whom are 18+ and open for commissions, but complains about not getting any comics. He claims to pay his artists “with exposure”.

In another discord server called EVERYTHING, he constantly badmouths people in MMW. This includes both members and his mods. I’m uncertain if that server has been deleted or not, but the invite has since been taken down from MMW. I was in that server for a short while, and while users were discussing how MMW is poorly modded and how one of the moderators, W, is one of the few competent mods and that she doesn’t deserve to have to put up with this shit, Data became angry and said that it’s her fault for joining the server and agreeing to become a mod. He (and possibly an ex-mod) shut down the conversation by saying that we’re stressing out another mod and that they’re working hard to work out the problems of MMW. (The problem is you, data.)

Data has also leaked very personal sexual details in MMW, a server thay has plenty of minors. He once detailed how his wife or an ex used to perform sexual play with poprocks. He has also posted a suggestive comic to the server, then got upset when called out by members of the server.

Data has also followed NSFW accounts belonging to minors, while knowing that they were minors. (The issue here isn’t why do minors have nsfw accounts, it’s why is a 30-possibly 40 year old man interacting with the nsfw accounts of minors.)

In his EVERYTHING server, he constantly flirted with an ex-mod as well as my friend Pearl, both of whom were underage at the time. He claims that the ex mod was “old enough”, despite the fact that they were 17 at the time and he was possibly bordering on 40 years of age. Keep in mind that this man has a wife and a child, so he’s also cheating.

He is an immature prick in general who seems to be more concerned with his expensive megaman merch collection, constantly bragging about them even amidst the start of the pandemic, knowing that there are many people who are now unemployed. He also posted pictures of his knives during a time where violence was rampant (possibly around the time of when the stop AAPI hate became mainstream). He can’t handle being called out for his mistakes, when called out he either keeps quiet and doesn’t say anything, or throws a hissy fit. He seems to hve no issues for overreacting and punishing his whole server for something that a few have done, yet is hesitant to ban a user that is knowingly harassing the members in his server.

This is all of the information I’m aware of, but for the love of god, don’t join this server. Data is a piece of shit. I apologize for not having any photo proof, most of these events occurred in 2019/2020 and the link to his EVERYTHING server had been taken down as far as i’m aware.

Reblogs are appreciated, please get the word out. If anyone has more info, DM me.

Edit: gonna add this comment in case anyone can’t read tumblr replies (like me on desktop smh)

[ID: tumblr reply from user nt-warrior. it reads: “I’ve been in this server for a long time and this was seriously needed. He also bullies people (mainly minors) for no reason, going so far as to kick them for “being annoying”, then saying it’s a joke (wish I could provide screenshots but he tends to mass delete messages when he gets called out. Only reason why I’m still there is because I don’t know many other active megaman servers.” end ID]

#cw grooming #cw slurs #ableism cw #important #callout #please reblog #rockman #megaman #megaman x #megaman zero #rockman.exe #megaman battle network #MMBN #megaman world #discord server #ロックマン #ロックマンx #text post #long post

[sera-cb]

Artists of Tumblr:

Picarto has just added image galleries, and I think this is potentially where a lot of folks who’ve been left high and dry by Tumblr’s content restrictions and DeviantART’s UI overhaul are going to wind up.

The feature only launched a few hours ago, and the team is historically very receptive to feedback. While Picarto is traditionally an art streaming site, the Gallery update already has:

Image uploads with up to five variants per entry

Sub-galleries / folders with custom icons / thumbnails

Ability to restrict visibility & commentability to followers, subs, or even private. (Subs in particular makes this a semi-viable Patreon alternative / backup for most visual artists, or anyone who can upload images demonstrating their work really.)

Image search filtering by tags and content ratings (safe, “ecchi,” and NSFW, all with almost comically low but very clearly defined standards, not only for sexual content but different forms and levels of violence), as well as by user status and popular vs recent for discoverability, with selected images zoomed in and interactable in all normal ways (upvote, comment, reblog, follow) directly from the search results (!!!!)

Tumblr / Twitter-style reblogs, complete with Quote option if that’s your thing (which is cool not only for artists boosting each other but also for anyone who wants to spend the time creating a curated feed that can be followed in and of itself, which is a sight cooler for the artists than your usual Instagram reposts, for sure)

A chronological feed of the people you follow, as well as a personal feed of just your output on your bio, where on top of your artwork you can drop status updates with a character count suspiciously similar to Twitter’s.

Pretty damn nice new bio page, while we’re on the subject, including social links, a big ol’ header space and, for premium users, up to three separate custom banners that can link to whatever you want.

Picarto’s ToS is pretty devoid of legalese, and the only real restrictions on uploaded content amount to “no actual porn of real people, generally” and “no sexual depictions of minors.” That's pretty much it on no-goes as long as you mark you work properly.

As downsides go, there are, unfortunately, no real accommodations for written works at this time, even though there are stream categories for writers, which is a surprising game to play with those people since imo any author that can write in front of an audience is likely a powerful elder being who should not be scorned, but with design team tends to respond to demand, so if you want that let them know! (The Gallery exists at all because enough of us asked for it in the first place!) Presently, Galleries also seem to have a minimal to non-existent presence on the front page, though I imagine that, especially given the initial reception, that will be changing in due time.

(Also, I am uncertain if users blocked from your stream channels will be blocked from your galleries at this time, and would love to know if anyone can confirm if those bans carry over or not!)

As an added bonus for those of us who stream regularly, this means that our artwork and livestreams can coexist under one community!  This pairs great with other recent additions like stream hosting to create the kind of place DeviantART swears it is but remains kind of the absolute worst-in-class at: an art site for the artists, where we can build each other up and create whole little networks and do our thing!

If this seems uncharacteristically positive for me, there’s good reason for that! I am very excited by this, and given the dev’s history of clearly caring about the project, I am equally excited to see where it goes!

If you want to follow me on Picarto, you can find me right here!

#picarto #art gallery #artists on tumblr

[feathered-serpents]

Tagged by @crit20lesbian (thank you!!) 

1- why did you choose your URL?

When this blog started I was really into Good Omens (still am! just quieter about it but that’ll change as we get closer to season 2) so I wanted a URL that referenced Good Omens but was also neutral enough that I could switch fandoms without it being weird. “Feathered-serpents” is meant to be referring to the angels and snakes in Good Omens but also the feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl because I’m a mythology slut. I love this deity so much and he’s ALWAYS made to be a monster in Western media when he’s!! A god of art, wind, and knowledge!! And created humanity!! He’s so cool Aztec mythos is SO COOL 

2- Any side blogs?

Not really. I used to have a Flight Rising side blog but it’s been abandoned for awhile. Been thinking about making a Dragon Age sideblog but I basically just use Twitter for that so this is what we get 

3- How long have you been on Tumblr?

10 years. Since I was 13. Technically 11 if you count when I made a blog in 2010 but didn’t know how to use tumblr since it’s not user friendly and just let it sit there for a year until I figured it out. 

It’s certainly done something to my development. Dunno what. But something 

4- Do you have a queue tag?

No. Everything you get is live 

5- Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I’ve had a series of blogs over the years, leaving older ones by either switching fandoms after I’d built too much of a niche in one to change my whole blog or by deleting the accounts cause I was swearing off tumblr and we can all see how that worked out. This one is my fifth main blog and I made it cause the fourth one got shadowbanned for no reason! Yay! 

6- Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

There’s this amazing comic by the artist @hollow-head of Aziraphale and Crowley’s drunken debate from the book and it contained a panel with Aziraphale in a little rocket ship as Crowley explained interstellar bird travel. I thought it was cute and asked if I could use it and they said yes and even sent me a version with a white background. I love it and I’m never changing it 

7- Why did you choose your header?

I really like the book Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman it’s DEEPLY weird and I’m still waiting for an adaptation. There’s an illustrated version which is beautiful and my header is the scene where the main character first enters the Underground world. I thought it was cool! 

8- What’s your post with the most notes?

The fucking. Stupid female aliens post I made in a rage after hearing that female aliens were barely included in the game Mass Effect because the artists “Didn’t know what that would look like” 

Like five seconds after I made this some dude reblogged it with “takes more than a voice and pronoun change but aight” after calling me a “puritan who hates women” on a separate post for expressing my approval of a scene in that same game being changed where a woman is confiding in you about her tormented childhood while the camera is just. Glued to her ass for no reason 

(he also reblogged and disagreed with me on like. many Mass Effect posts. It was deeply strange. I did not know him. He’s blocked now) 

9- How many mutuals do you have? Not sure but quite a few! I’d say about half the people I follow are mutuals as I tend to follow people I see in my notes a lot 

10- How many followers do you have?

1,577 but the number tends to go up and down constantly and also a good amount are probably porn bots 

11-How many people do you follow?

279! 

12- Have you ever made a shit post?

That’s all I do here 

13- How often do you use Tumblr each day?

That’s between me and god 

14- Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once?

Not really. If someone is annoying me or if they just post too much content I don’t like I’ll just block them. Usually it’s not even because I think they’re a bad person I just don’t wanna see their Eliasfucking posts in the TMA tag I’m sorry it’s too much* 

*(that’s an example i’m not referring to anyone specific) 

15- How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

Usually avoid unless I think it’s very important 

16- Do you like tag games?

Yes but I will usually forget to do them unless I do it RIGHT AWAY (like this one) 

17- Do you like ask games?

Also yes but I tend to forget to respond to those too. I will do the WWDITS/TMA prompts you all sent I will do them I just get overwhelmed by things I enjoy 

18- Which of your mutuals do you think is Tumblr famous?

We’re all in pretty niche corners so I don’t think any of us are “famous” but I am mutuals with some really cool artists. That’s fun! 

19- Do you have a crush on a mutual?

Platonically <3

Oh god now I have to tag people uhhhhhhh @alexiley​, @dudeiwannasleep​, @annabelle--cane​, @ghostbustermelanieking​, is that enough? that feels like enough (no pressure!!) 

#personal #tag game

[yannasunflower]

dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.��

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #zombie!au #haikyuu zombie!au #this is purely self indulgent #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #my writing #yanna speaks #text #fanfiction

[stxleslyds]

IMO, the Peacemaker rant isn't worth finding. It's just Peacemaker saying Batman is a pussy (his words, not mine) for not killing his villains. It's on the same level of uninformed critique made by people who don't read comics as "Superman is a Mary Sue because he's invincible" and "Robin makes no sense because Batman is too dark and serious to have a kid sidekick."

Hi Anon! Thank you for the ask and sorry for the late reply!

I see that the show and what is said in it has a very diverse reception. It seems that once again DC has managed to “stir the pot” with some controversial/popular take that can be taken in many different ways.

I just saw that @redjaybathood rebloged my post and wrote what was said in the show along their opinions on the matter.

From what I read I think that the show uses it with this character to show how wrong he is, like, DC will never be like “Batman is a pussy” and stand by it, so Gunn (it had to be him) is using a very distorted version of what people (like me) think about Batman and how his character is not as perfect as DC and his fans claim him to be.

That’s why I think that DC is most likely just “stirring the pot”.

In a sense I think it is a cheap move but I can also see what redjaybathood is saying about the character going through an identity crisis and trying to revindicate himself in his own eyes (as well as other’s).

And I also agree with you when you say that it is an “uninformed critique”. It is a fair combination between the two.

Now that I have more context, I believe that DC will do to Peacemaker what was kinda done to Jason in comics. Which would be slowly making the character turn against their initial thoughts but not completely turning them into a copy of Batman.

Just for the record I do not think that Batman is a pussy because he doesn’t kill, I think that he is a coward and a little bitch for not killing the Joker (or letting someone else kill the clown) and continue playing games that end up with people dead. The way I see it, at this point Bruce has as much blood on his hands as the Joker does.

I will always stand by UtRH Jason’s side on that. And I will die on that hill. I think DC is way too attached to Batman vs. Joker, when in reality that game should have ended a long time ago. That clown should not have so much power that he can turn Gotham upside down the way he did in Joker War (in comics).

The over use of the Joker is starting to piss off people because it just simply doesn’t make sense for someone like Batman, who is a Leaguer, a veteran hero and a victim of Joker, to still play catch and release with a mad man.

On one side we are being sold Batgod that can do no wrong and on the other we have Batman that won’t kill the Joker after all he has done because if he “kills a killer then the number of killers is still the same” bullshit.

At this point it is just a bland thing, but when people try to come up with the worst take on Batman, they either go for “pussy because he doesn’t kill anyone” or “beats up the mentally ill”.

In the end, Gunn or whoever writes the show is using a shitty take to gain attention and then “build up” a character that realises that Batman might be doing things correctly.

I mean, maybe I am completely wrong, but I won’t dwell much into it (after this) because I just know it is not the show for me, when it comes to DC I tend to stick to comics only.

Hope you have a great rest of the week Anon!

#asksss

[bookwyrminspiration]

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

Chapter 10: The Reconnections

word count: 8.6k

chapter summary: So many things just went wrong, now Sophie and her friends have to pull themselves together and help each other process it, otherwise they'll never figure out what to do next.

warnings: mentions of blood/injury, brief mention of bodies (non-human), general distress and confusion, suppressing emotions, panicking, crying, swearing, purposeful misuse of grammar, a lot of caps (not in an angry way, just excited yelling), and I think that's everything

taglist: I’ll reblog with it. let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Hello! Ten chapters! We're in the double digits now! To celebrate I'll be posting a deleted scene from the earlier chapters, so if that sounds interesting to you, feel free to check it out! Now, I know you're probably eager to find out what happens next, so I'll stop !!

ao3 link here or read below

Everything froze.

The world was silent.

That little girl looked at her, tears streaming down their face, fingers clenched in that creature’s fur, nearly tearing it apart. They stared at her, and Sophie stared back.

Her friends were arranged in a circle around them, stumbling from the rubble, slipping in the carnage, trembling forward. Everyone’s eyes wide, mouths agape, dust clinging to their skin.

Eyes on the girl.

The girl wouldn’t take their eyes off Sophie. There were ten of them arranged in a perfect circle around them like some sick ritual from a human horror film.

Their mouth fell open, salty tears clinging to their lips,

and

they

screamed.

Cracks and tremors exploded their way through the rough ground cascades and shock waves of terror and sheer power ricocheted through the pathways of earth travelling along hidden roots and sending the whole world into a frenzy and it was so so so so unbearably loud.

Sophie clapped her hands over her ears, gritting her teeth as she tried to stop her very brain from rattling about in her skull. Her eyes closed for one moment but that was all it took.

The girl was gone when she opened her eyes.

There was a bag in her hand. Heavy, stuffed with metal pieces and tools and things she didn’t understand. Someone was holding her hand. A cloak had been draped across her back.

People were asking so many questions. What to do. Should they leave? Was Sophie’s shoulder okay? Was anyone else hurt? Would their parents try and come back? They couldn’t, she had their pathfinder. Should they just leave the bodies here?

Because there were bodies everywhere. Flattened into the ground, entrails strung between crumbled buildings like streamers. Thick, gleaming rivers of blood filled the cracks in the pavement, inching ever closer and closer, turning the claw marks and paw imprints in the ground into puddles, into drenched ground and soaked soil.

There was a dandelion growing between the cracks, petals now completely, entirely red.

She couldn’t see through the glass on the building to her side, but she could see her crimson reflection in the sheet of blood running down it, the drops drying like wax to the side.

It vanished, feathers blocked her view.

Deep browns spattered with gold and teal, a grey so dark it looked black, and--blue. A deep, rich blue.

Fitz, Keefe, and Maruca stood at three different points, a triangle amongst the ten of them, wings spread as the entire group faced inward. Blocking everyone’s view.

“What--what now?” Biana whispered, face drained of all color. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, bite marks in her lips.

“Who was that?” Keefe asked, grimacing, his hands held awkwardly at his side, like he couldn’t figure out just what he was supposed to do next.

Her fingers tightened around the pathfinder to the point of pain. Sophie just wanted this to be over. She’d been fighting so many people for so long. She didn’t want to anymore. She wanted to take a break, to go to the beach at midnight and push her friends into the water. To tend to a garden because she wanted to and not because she’d die without it. To listen to music on a blaring speaker without the looming terror it would draw something terrifying, something unnaturally scarier than her.

Twirling the pathfinder rhythmically beneath her fingers, she sighed. “Let’s just go.”

Keefe looked to her, alarmed. She didn’t care.

“Anyone have any last minute errands to run while we’re here,” she said, much too lightly. She couldn’t see the carnage through the feather barrier, but she could see it, knew what it looked like. The image was burned blisteringly detailed into her mind, and would remain for the rest of her goddamned life.

“Um...no,” Wylie answered, a bit confused, scratching at his head.

Sophie rubbed at her face; it felt like there was something stuck to her skin. A layer of filth and grime and wrong shuddering through her cells that refused to go away. She gasped, stumbling slightly--her shoulder. The movement jostled her shoulder. Throbbing aches thrummed their way through the surface of her skin, melting her nerves into rivulets of illusory, constant stimulation. Trembling, she exhaled.

Fitz reached out to steady her, frowning as he pulled her in to take a closer look. She didn’t let him. Covering it with her good arm, she tried to sort through her thoughts.

The sight of that little girl again…

“Then let’s just go.” Sophie looked up, startled. Linh. That had been...Linh. Her arms were crossed against her body, brow furrowed. Tam hesitantly placed his hand on her shoulder, seeming to convey something no one but her could understand. Linh shrugged in response and his expression only darkened, fingertips noticeably darker when he dropped his hand.

Almost reluctantly, they all linked hands. Like they were uneasy leaving this place the way it was. But what choice did they have? What could they possibly do?

Run away. That’s what they could do.

Again.

She couldn’t get it off. She couldn’t get anything off. The dust and grime from that haphazard city stuck to her skin like pollen and her clothes were damp with sweat and suctioned to her body and those wings were stuck to her back and she wanted to rip rip rip them off and set them alight and dance through the flames.

But there was dirt on the porch and she needed to sweep it off.

There were flower petals on the couch and she needed to clear them away.

There were wires and metal plates and parts to be sorted.

So she pushed it away. Pushed it down. Took a deep breath. And got back to work.

Unnerving quiet crept through the cracks of the wood planks beneath her feet. Too quiet. No wind blew through the canopied trees, no animals chirped in the forest. Everything had...paused. Or maybe that was just her, unaware of the world around her as she methodically plucked flower petals from the seat of the chair, tossing them out a window.

Everything she did pulled against the bandages wrapped haphazardly around her shoulder. She’d popped a few pills when she’d gotten back, human medicines she’d grabbed with Tam, rinsed the wound off, poured an antiseptic over the top--it’d stung like a bitch but she’d live--and wrapped the thing up. She didn’t want to deal with it anymore than she had to.

Attempting to clean her wound had disturbed some of the neatly wrapped bandages from Elwin--which was surprisingly difficult with all the pollen. But her right arm was still good and covered, the other good from about the elbow down. Right now, she could probably pass as one of those haunt actors in a human haunted house, some kind of resurrected mummy.

As she wandered around, she passed by friends moving, living their own lives, shadows trailing behind them, marring their faces. Biana and Fitz had disappeared somewhere the moment they’d gotten back, tears trailing down their cheeks. Linh had vanished too, arms crossed and expression tight, Tam right behind her, apprehensive, unable to deduce what was wrong.

What wasn’t wrong? That would’ve been a better question.

They were living just to the left of where they should’ve been. They were all together, everyone was alive, but everything was just slightly off. This was not right. They weren’t supposed to be like this. What had happened to them? Was it still happening? Who was that little girl?

She found a closet in one of the empty houses, a broom and some lengths of handmade rope, flowers curling out from a handful of the woven vines. That...didn’t seem like how rope was supposed to exist, but she also didn’t know much about making rope. Or anything about it.

A broom sat in the corner of the closet, which she made sure to note. She’d need that.

Slinging the length of rope over her good shoulder, she carelessly tossed a throwing star from hand to hand as she made her way through the village.

The bridges needed repair.

Just ahead, one of the bridges had snapped off entirely on one side, dangling over the edge and into a sharp drop much in the way those comical action movies had shown from when she was little.

Thunk. She’d set the supplies near the edge of the platform, but she didn’t care.

Tossing her legs over the edge, she braced herself; this would take a level of control she wasn’t sure she possessed--especially not right now.

Pressing off with her hands, she lowered herself into the air, just like when she’d lowered herself into swimming pools as a kid. Not the time to be nostalgic, Sophie. But she couldn’t help it. The sun had been overwhelming, the air muggy and humid. A beehive had started to form under the water slide and her and her sister would always plunge beneath the chemical surface when a bee flew near, or even just the sound of those wings approached.

The very same sound her own wings were now making, holding her gently in the sky as she urged herself forward, muscles in her back tearing at the scratches, the mite marks in her shoulder. Grabbing the frayed ropes and hauling them back to the platform she’d jumped from, she used her body weight to anchor it down while she tied and wove and cut the fresh rope--that’s what the throwing star was for. She didn’t think there’d be any scissors in an abandoned village, but she was open to surprises.

Actually, no she wasn’t. The unexpected oh so frequently came begging alongside disaster and terror, singing a sweet song of promise only to rip it to shreds as soon as you let it in.

Testing the strength, she tentatively walked across the planks, bouncing in the middle. She probably shouldn’t have been walking on it if she was unsure of its stability, but she wouldn’t fall if it broke. A dangerous mindset to play with and she knew it, but she didn’t care. Either way, it held. Good. Something was fixed. Something was better now.

She did it again. Time ticked passed, the supply of rope slowly dwindled, knot after knot slipping through her hands, fixing bridges until her fingers were raw and red and the muscles in her back were threatening to pop out. Her shoulder stung, the entire area burning as if set alight, but she didn’t dare take more than a minute’s break. Anything more would snap her out of this zone.

Back to the closet, then. She grabbed the broom. Anything, anything to keep her body moving, physical labor to numb her mind.

Dust showered over the edge, tumbling towards the ground far far below. She could watch it touch the ground if she wanted; instead, she let her mind disappear. Letting herself live in her own body would lead to circles and circles and circles, coming back to everything and anything she’d ever said.

Each mistake she’d made. There was nothing she could undo, but her mind could replay the possibilities over and over and over again. What if she’d tucked the wings inside her shirt instead of relying on just the cape after they’d escaped that creature. What if she’d agreed to meet in a different city, let Mysterium be just a mission for Dex, contacting their parents separate.

She should’ve tried harder, fought stronger. Should’ve. She hadn’t. An infinite cascade of what-ifs and maybes were drowning her, shoving her head under the water and there wasn’t a drop of energy left in her to scream.

Bristles brushed against the wood, precise. Methodic. She worked her way out from the inside of the platform, moving the dirt to the edges to watch it fall away.

Realizing there was grime inside too, she entered her little home. When had she come back to it--she could’ve sworn she was out further. Shifting the rug out of the way, she efficiently swept the floor. Kicking aside furniture with barely half a thought, holding a couch up with one hand, careful to avoid stepping on the stained glass littered about the floor. Bare feet didn’t mix well with glass, and her body was too bruised to torment further. Not that it was stopping her.

There was so much to do, so many tasks to complete.

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how she was supposed to react, she knew that much. She had quite possibly just permanently severed her connection to her old life. Had maybe seen her father for the last time. He’d seen her, knew there was something wrong.

And she stood here with a broom she’d found in that empty home, sweeping rivers of dried dirt off the wood floor, watching it shower all the way down to the ground below.

She didn’t remember how she got back here.

She didn’t remember what she was supposed to do next.

She didn’t remember her name.

“Hey, you,” he said, gently, approaching hesitantly from behind. She still flinched, muscles tensing. Keefe took the broom from her hands, setting it to rest against the side of a nearby wall. That--that wasn’t her wall. When had she strayed so far from her cottage?

She hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving.

Almost like he was afraid he’d break her, he pushed a few strands of hair back behind her ear, the ones that were obscuring her face. Hiding the trails of tears crying silently down her cheeks.

He inhaled softly, eyebrows creasing with concern as his other hand came up to rest on the other cheek, holding her in his hands. She hadn’t even looked at him and yet she could still picture every minute detail of his expression.

“You okay?”

She didn’t know if she was physically capable of responding. Softly, her own hands covered his, savoring the warmth of his skin against her own, pressing her eyes closed in a futile attempt to dry her eyes.

Sophie leaned forward, her forehead pressing against Keefe’s chest as his arms widened around her, caught off guard for a moment before his hands slowly settled on her back, careful to avoid the wings.

“O-oh. Okay. We can--we can do this, then. If you need.”

She did need. Desperately. Tilting her face to the side so her cheek was pressed to his chest instead, she held him close. And let him hold her. They didn’t talk. Just stood there, bodies flush.

Eventually, he raised one of his hands from her back, brushing it through her hair, chaotic and tangled from the style she’d hastily torn out. She felt his fingertips combing through the strands, ghosting across her scalp as he pulled at the knots, untangling it with his fingers the best he could. His fingers slid against the back of her neck, lifting the strands stuck to her skin. Gentle. He was oh so gentle with her, like she was a porcelain doll and one wrong move would shatter her into pieces.

“You doing alright, Sophie?”

Sophie pulled back and nodded, smoothing out his shirt, pulling it back down and pointedly avoiding eye contact. He wasn’t having it.

Keefe held her chin, slowly directing her to look back at him, his skin warm against the dried salt on her own.

“Are you okay, Sophie? Please talk to me. Or anyone. I know that mission didn’t go well and--”

“Stop,” she whispered, and he shut right up. It was so so much harder to talk than she thought it would be. “I can’t. Not right--I can’t. Too much. Everything. All at once. I can’t.”

He was nodding, the wings at his back shifting slightly, readjusting themselves, a deep charcoal grey. Her fingers tightened into fists in this shirt before she realized what she was doing and released the fabric, stepping back, exhaling.

Today had been absolutely awful and she hated everything about it. From pushing her old life even further away to accidentally revealing the wings to the little girl on that intelligent monster down to the chill in the air that morning.

But Dex had gotten his supplies. He’d had everyone help carry everything back--though he tried to get her to let them all handle it, what with the shoulder. And they were all still here. And everyone else had been taken back to the underground unharmed. Those were wins. They were positives. They were good things but she just couldn’t focus on them.

“Do you...want a distraction?” Keefe asked, hesitantly waving a hand in front of her face to bring her back to reality.

She nodded, running her hands down her face. It was too much. Too many things had gone so wrong so quickly and she’d wanted to bury her imparter beneath her mattress because it was exploding with messages and hails and just the thought of reading them made her so nauseous her knees had buckled and she’d had to lay on the floor for several minutes.

That’s when she’d remembered how disheveled the place was. So she’d started cleaning and hadn’t stopped. Not until he’d come to find her.

“Okay,” he breathed, hands combing back through his hair as he squinted off into the distance. Thinking. He hadn’t had anything planned and was thinking on the fly. He glanced to her.

“You stole Grady’s pathfinder, right?”

“No need to rub it in,” she grumbled, patting at various points all over her body, trying to remember where she’d put it. She’d thought she’d tucked it into her waistband, but it wasn’t there. “I think I left it inside.”

He pulled at his lip with his fingers, lost in thought. “Okay. Cool. Where?” She gestured for him to follow her, leading him across a few bridges, some she’d repaired and tied back into place, others they had to take a route around because she hadn’t fixed them yet.

She ducked her head inside, scanning the space, the little tables. There. She jogged inside, snatching it off a chair and returning back outside, holding it out to Keefe.

Taking it from her, he began to spin the facets, a new pattern emerging. It seemed familiar, although she could never quite understand how the crystals worked.

He smiled slightly to himself, glancing. When he saw her looking back he quickly averted his gaze, cheeks turning red. Tilting her head to the side, she watched him hold up the pathfinder to the afternoon light.

Lacing their fingers together, he looked over his shoulder at her. “I don’t think you’ve ever been where we’re going, but it’s not the location that’s important. Got it?”

She shook her head, but he didn’t elaborate further, pulling them both into the light.

Purple grass had never made much sense to Sophie. Foxfire had purple grass, but no one bothered to explain why. It was one of those elvish things that hadn’t been deemed important enough for her to learn.

This grass wasn’t just purple, but varying shades of seafoam greens and delicate blues as well. Tall, reaching to about her knees, some adorned with flowers.

That was all. Grass, as far as she could see.

Keefe sighed next to her, then rubbed at his neck, smiling sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure if this place would be clear or not.” Clear of monsters. Taking a chance, coming here without scouting or defense aside from their new mobility and Sophie’s strength--not that she was in great shape at the moment. Perhaps the others had strange new traits too, not that she’d ask. Fitz had been staring off quite a lot recently, but she didn’t know if that meant anything.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, looking around. There was...nothing. Nothing was good. Nothing meant they were safe. Nothing meant this place hadn’t been overrun or corrupted just yet. But it also wasn’t like Keefe to do nothing.

Tucking the pathfinder away, he ran his fingers through his hair, standing slightly taller, pulling himself together. “Okay. Look around. What do you see?”

“Grass.”

“Yeah, there’s grass. Who do we know who likes grass and fields and streams?” He was trying to lead her somewhere but her brain had turned to lead. Wait. A stream? Huh, now that she thought about it, the faint gurgle of something wet rushing by could be heard. Water pouring over rocks.

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, but he just smiled back. Okay. Grass. Someone who liked--

“Oh!” She could feel her eyebrows shoot up, putting the pieces together.

Keefe full on grinned now, but she shut her eyes, sinking to her knees amongst the foliage, deliberately ignoring the light, tickling brush off the blades against her skin. .

Bracing her, holding her steady just in case, his hand rested atop her shoulder as he came to stand behind her.

Pressing her fingers to her temples, she transmitted her query across the world. Hello? Are you there? Over and over and over again, unsure which direction to send the message so sending it everywhere, a full 360 around her body, waves of power rushing from her mind that no one but people like her could sense.

Finally, her message was answered.

SOPHIE! HELLO! FRIEND!

Silveny’s exuberant shouts filled her mind and she barely even grimaced. Apparently maintaining the mindbubble so often had built up her resilience to pounding noise inside her head.

Yeah, she responded, leaning back into Keefe. Do you want to come visit? Me and Keefe?

FRIEND! VISIT! KEEFE!

Sophie nodded her head, then realized the glittery horse couldn’t see her. Yes. It’s safe. Well--yeah, we’ll go with that. Safe! Just a really quick visit, okay? I don’t want to put you in danger.

Keefe was fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, unrolling the parts that had gotten bunched up.

VISIT! SAFE! SOPHIE!

Yes...that is...that’s what I said.

WHERE! WHERE! WHERE!

“I’d like to contact whoever designed alicorns and file a formal noise complaint,” she grumbled, and she could faintly hear Keefe’s snickering before her attention was too far gone to process anything anymore.

I’ll show you, she said, gathering up an image of the place. That must’ve been why Keefe had asked her what she’d seen, to ensure she had a clear visualization before reaching out. Hadn’t he come up with this on the spot? Why was his attention to detail so casual?

Almost immediately after sharing the image, Silveny severed their connection, still mulling over and looking at the details Sophie’d provided.

Groaning, she sat back up, realizing she’d been leaning practically all of her weight onto Keefe, who’d sat down behind her at some point during that conversation--it must’ve lasted significantly longer than she’d realized.

“So?” he asked, shaking his arms out and stretching a bit, rolling his wrist and straightening his shirt.

Sophie blinked a few times, the fading light still too bright after her eyes had been closed for so long “She cut me off. I showed her where we were and then she severed the connection, so whatever that means--”

Crackling thunder rolled through the air, making them both jump as a hole tore itself through space, several sparkling winged alicorns emerging, prancing their way through the sky as they circled down to land a ways away, trotting over to where they both sat in the grass.

“Hey, Glitter Butt,” Keefe whispered, stroking her face, brushing the icy strands of hair out of her eyes. She snorted and butted his hand in return, pressingly firmly into his hand. His smile was infectious, the wings at his back a near blinding white to match the alicorn before him.

KEEFE! KEEFE! KEEFE!

“She’s sure excited to see you,” Sophie told him, rubbing at her temple; Silveny was even louder in person.

Meanwhile, she was surrounded on either side by two little foals bumping up against her thighs, trying to knock her into the grass so they could play. But their movements were...disjointed. Erratic. Colored with fear and panic.

“They’re anxious,” she realized, frowning. Keefe’s expression had darkened slightly too, his wings shifting back to grey.

“Are you, mama?” He consoled, pressing up close to her neck, petting her all down her side. She didn’t know why she’d bothered to say it aloud--he could already feel it.

Sophie relented after a particularly brutal push from Wynn, sinking to the ground once more, letting him curl up in her lap, trembling beneath her fingers as she stroked his mane. Luna took more to Keefe, pulling at his shirt with her teeth, nearly tearing the fabric, pressing her wet nose to his skin, making him jump slightly.

He laid back in the grass, wings spreading behind him, Luna curling up beside him and laying her head atop his stomach. It was in this moment, the wind gently stirring the pastel grass cushioning their bodies, the intertwining feathers, the way his eyes closed and he leaned back, hand tangled in Luna’s mane, that Sophie yearned to be an artist. To capture this moment right now and make it real somewhere else, to allow it to exist outside her mind.

What she wouldn’t give to preserve this moment, this reprieve.

KEEFE? KEEFE? KEEFE OKAY? Silveny interrupted, blasting her thoughts into Sophie’s mind, hopping about anxiously, refusing to settle. Greyfell stood a little ways back, wary eyes observing the environment.

There’d been no news of anything catastrophic that Silveny had shared with her, nothing alarming or dangerous. But she’d kept secrets before. What had they seen? What had they met that made them so skittish?

Wynn butted his head against her side, demanding more cuddles and attention.

Yeah, Keefe’s okay. Why?

Silveny had pressed in closer, stomping at the ground. She tried to grab him by the shirt, pull him closer to her, but he ducked back, holding up his hands.

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re fine. It’s okay. Calm down, mama,” he whispered, gently stroking her head, trying to calm her. It was only marginally effective; she stopped her stomping, but her eyes were frantic, darting between Keefe and the ground and the area surrounding, sniffing the air, exhaling heavily.

Keefe glanced to her in question. Asking what was wrong.

Silveny. What’s wrong?

MONSTER! KEEFE! PROTECT!

I--what? What are you talking about? To Keefe she said, “Something about monsters. I think she’s trying to protect you.”

SMELL! MONSTER! PROTECT KEEFE!

Turning towards the panicked alicorn, he smiled slightly, nervously. “Thanks, but I’m good. You don’t need to protect me. You need to protect yourselves and your family. I’ve got other people to have my back.”

Silveny wouldn’t relent, her motherly concern boiling over and exploding from within her too-caring heart. Pressing forward, she tried to snap at Keefe’s wings, biting at the feathers.

They pulled back, snapping shut behind him just before she could reach as he sat up fully, backing away from her.

Oh.

Keefe.

Monster.

He was the monster she was scenting.

Silveny didn’t seem to understand anything Sophie tried to explain. Not until she told her that biting those wings, the monster, would hurt Keefe. Then she stopped trying.

But she didn’t give up, convinced there was something she could do to protect him from some creature, not understanding it was him she scented.

“I didn’t realize just how much our scents had changed. I mean, I know Ro told us but--” he cut off, still slightly shaken, expression drawn. Luna still curled around him, but the wings were tight to his back now, significantly darker. More shadowed. Haunted.

Silveny refused to leave his side, pressed close to him in the grass. Sophie had kept her own wings tucked in close, flat against her back. It felt unnatural, like they wanted to remain spread, but she could do it easy enough. Keefe’s were so much more obvious, that’s what’d tipped the alicorns off. Hers could be hidden, discreet. Anything to prevent more disruption, to worsen that aura of hurt lingering around Keefe, the one he was trying so hard to pretend didn’t even exist.

Sophie couldn’t think of anything to say, instead staying silent.

Distraction. They needed a distraction. That’s why they’d come all the way out here, although she didn’t know where that was. To have fun. Relax. Ignore everything else for just a single moment.

You know what? Fuck it.

Hey, Silveny? Want to fly?

Head perking up, her eyes focused on Sophie.

FLY? FLY? FLY?

She nodded, debating how she was going to navigate this. Yeah. Fly! Her shoulder could probably take it. She’d regret it tomorrow, but it wasn’t tomorrow yet.

“What are you saying to her,” Keefe hissed, leaning back a bit as Silveny’s wings began to flap slightly, rising from her sitting position to towering about the two of them sitting before her. Even Sophie felt as though she could feel the waves of excitement radiating off her, and she wasn’t even the empath. Keefe’s eyes were slightly clouded, like he was sorting through something before coming back to himself.

Sophie brushed him off. “You asked me to trust you when coming here, now it’s your turn to trust me.”

“That is so unnecessarily cryptic, Foster.” She stared at him. “Okay, alright. Point taken.”

Silveny bent down, expecting the two of them to climb atop her back, but Sophie shook her head. Keefe’s eyes widened and he slowly turned to look at her, mouth comically agape, like he was questioning whether her mind still worked properly. Probably not.

No. We’re gonna do this a little differently this time, okay? Trust me.

DIFFERENT FLY? TRUST? DIFFERENT FLY?

Shaking out her hands, trying to dispel the nerves, she nodded. Yep. Trust us. You go ahead and we’ll join you.

It took a minute or two more of explanation, but finally the stubborn alicorn relented, her family following behind. Taking off into the sky, the four of them began to circle a few dozen feet about the ground, moving around the two of them left on the ground.

“Are you serious? You’re really--are you sure?” he asked, hands on either side of his head, fingers digging into his scalp as his eyes remained oh so open, scanning her from head to toe.

She shrugged, turning away as she straightened her clothes out; the fabric had bunched and remained full of grass. “Want to join them or not?”

“Well--uh--you know--ah--we can’t--why…” Sophie looked to him over her shoulder, realizing he truly was stunned. Entirely at a loss for words.

“Hey, you don’t have to, you know. You’ll be fine either way. Nothing will happen.”

He rolled his eyes at her, insulted. Of course he would follow her, he just couldn’t believe who she’d become. The decisions she made so casually that would’ve sent her spiraling into anxiety before. Part of her didn’t believe it either, pretended nothing had happened at all.

Crouching down slightly, she gathered her energy for a moment before leaping into the sky, wings snapping out behind her. Steadily, she made her way into the sky, turning back to see Keefe.

His wings beat steadily behind him--he must’ve practiced, she realized with a start. Light grey feathers shivering in the wind as he caught up to her, color staining his cheeks already.

“See? Everything’s okay,” she whispered, unsure whether she was comforting herself or him. Either way, he smiled in return, chaotically bumping into her with his shoulder, nearly tumbling out of the sky in the process. Hiding her wince, she smiled wider. Yeah, that injury did not like all this movement, but she’d never been known to listen to her body.

“Yeah. Okay. We’re okay.”

With each beat, it grew easier. The tightness in her chest eased, her smile gradually felt true. Every time she took to the sky she landed more skilled, more aware of her own body. They worked in tandem, the two of them. Her and the wings.

SOPHIE! KEEFE! FLY!

The impatient alicorn had darted down and was now flying in concentric, tightening circles around the two of them, whining in excitement.

Yeah, Mama. Fly. Silveny let out a shriek of excitement, tumbling through the air, her two little trouble makers coming up beside them to butt into their legs, testing their balance.

Sophie moved much more sporadically than the five of them, rhythmically shifting in the sky while they moved steadily; something about their wings having feathers and hers being insect-based, she assumed. But she didn’t want to do any thinking right now.

Right now there were four alicorns and someone she loved right beside her, laughing and intertwining and dipping through the sky.

Keefe waved frantically, drawing her attention. “Foster! Look!” Wynn hovered beside him in the air, and on some unknown signal both of them snapped their wings shut, gravity taking them by the hand and dragging them down head first, dozens upon dozens of feet rushing past in a few moments as the ground grew nearer and nearer.

At the last possible second, they both opened their wings, pure white feathers catching the wind as they pulled a sharp turn, skimming the top of the grass before the momentum sent them rocketing back into the sky, looping around to come to a mostly steady pause in the air.

“Why? Why would you do such a thing,” she managed, clutching her chest. She’d trusted him, but watching him drop headfirst, unprotected, had ignited some visceral panic, adrenaline humming through her veins, making it slightly more difficult to maintain her position in the sky.

KEEFE FLY! KEEFE FLY! KEEFE FLY! Silveny cheered in her mind, but Sophie tried to ignore the pestering. Greyfell seemed to be occupying most of her attention anyways.

“Aww, what? Do you care about me or something?” he teased, circling back around to her, squishing his cheeks between his palms.

Swatting at him, she glitched back a little, wings buzzing and failing to hide her grin. “Unfortunately, I’m invested in your physical and mental well-being, you dumbass.”

Keefe scrunched his nose up at her, pressing in close and grabbing her by the wrist, drawing her away slightly, leading her through loops in the air. He let go eventually, realizing it was much more difficult when holding on to someone, the same way running was so difficult when holding someone else's hand.

She missed the warmth of his skin, though. Missed it desperately.

Music. In a human film, there’d be soft, soothing music playing over a montage of the two of them whirling through the sky, the sound of their laughter cutting through when Sophie’s shirt rode up and the fabric got bunched on her face, when Keefe tried to stay low and fell from the sky, instead ending up rolling through the grass.

Everything was okay, just like they’d said. Like they’d promised. All she could hear was Keefe’s voice, his ringing laughter, and all she could see was his smile, the blinding, near glow of his bone-white feathers.

They let the time pass.

They stopped trying to stop it.

Hey--where are you? Fitz interrupted her as she darted around an alicorn wing, testing her own agility.

Hmm? she replied, startled.

I asked where--

Oh. Mind processing what he’d said a few seconds later, she interrupted him. I don’t know. Keefe took us here.

She could’ve sworn Fitz was mentally trying to strangle her, shake some sense into her. Sophie took the brief moment of silence to slow down, coming to a hover as she closed her eyes, focusing on the conversation. It was hard to escape her body with the pounding in her shoulder, but she managed.

Alright, he said finally, clearly distracted with something on his end. Can you come back, please? Did you even tell anyone you were leaving? What are you even doing--you know what? Later. Just...I need you. Please.

Wings rushed rhythmically beside her, Keefe having noticed her distraction and coming to make sure she didn’t tumble from the sky. How considerate.

Are you okay? Heart skipping a bit, she resisted the urge to pull at her eyelashes. It was that brief moment before disaster, that poignant pause where the next few words would determine whether the adrenaline kicked in in full or her panic would waiver and they’d laugh about it later. Those few seconds before it set in where you tried to figure out if it was real.

He hesitated. I--I don’t know. Is it even possible to be okay right now?

Okay, okay, she consoled, instincts kicking in. Give us a few minutes and we’ll be there, okay? I promise. Don’t do anything stupid, please. We’re coming.

Yeah...okay.

The connection cut out and she opened her eyes, disoriented for a moment. Keefe was grimacing, shaking his hands out, trying to dispel something.

“What’s got you all anxious, Foster?” Ah. Right. He could feel the sudden souring of her mood.

Moving away from him, towards the alicorns, she called over her shoulder. “We need to go. Fitz asked for us to come back and he sounded really upset.”

Keefe started for a moment then followed after. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. But he wants us back so we’re going back.”

“Okay, yeah. Yeah let’s go.” he repeated himself a few times, and Sophie swore if she were an empath she’d feel the same waves of dread and anxiety rolling off of him as he felt from her.

Silveny, Keefe and I need to leave. You and your family need to go back to wherever you’re safest, okay? I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer.

KEEFE! SOPHIE! STAY! She begged, sounding like she wanted to kidnap the two of them and steal them away permanently, convinced she could protect them.

She shook her head, curled up in the air beside the alicorn, cradling her head between her hands, pressing their foreheads together. We can’t, mama. But you need to stay safe. We’ll see you again soon.

SEE SOPHIE SOON!

Yeah! We won’t wait so long next time.

SEE KEEFE SOON! Silveny playfully bumped into Sophie, circling away to do the same to Keefe, who said much of the same as she had, wishing her well and promising to visit sometime.

Neither of them knew if they’d be able to keep that promise.

Wynn and Luna butted against them too, demanding a few last pets and snuggles before they followed behind their parents, Greyfell unexpectedly brushing wings with Keefe in farewell before they vanished into the void with one last message.

SOPHIE SAFE! KEEFE SAFE! STAY SAFE!

It was useless to wait here any longer, but they both hesitated for a single moment, long enough to take a breath. To watch the grass shiver in the breeze, the pollen dance through the air.

Offering Keefe her hand, Sophie conjured the clearest image she could of the gnomish village, the way it looked from up above. Their fingers intertwined and Sophie stopped beating those wings, letting herself fall into a dead drop just as Keefe had, but this time they didn’t catch themselves: they plummeted into the void.

Humidity condensed into clouds, obscuring her vision. Apparently her best image of above the village was from that dragon fight, much higher than she realized. The two of them descended in slow, coiling circles, both of them wishing they could go faster but not sure if they should risk it.

Wylie waved at them as they landed from a bridge a little ways away, so she waved back.

We’re back; where are you? Hand dropping back to her side, she resolved that if he didn’t respond within the next fifteen seconds she was tracking him down.

She reached ten before his voice filled her head.

My...house, he said, unsure what to call it just like the rest of them.

Biting her lip, she glanced to Keefe. “Do you know where Fitz is staying?”

He nodded, taking the lead. A stab of guilt threaded its way through the lining of her stomach, coiling around her ribs and squeezing tight. How shameful that she’d gotten so caught up in her own life, her own troubles, that she didn’t even know where he was staying.

Leading her through a series of bridges and turns, a cottage came into view, slanted and twisted around the side of a tree, a spiral of stairs leading towards a splintered door left agape, a pattern of slashes in the front that she forced herself to remove from her mind.

It was the highest building in the village, roof open to the sky.

No creaks or groans came from the stairs as she practically ran up them, imagining the worst of possibilities, heart lagging behind, stumbling with dread. Keefe was only a moment behind, cursing as his feathers snagged on a tear in the railing.

Tentatively, she knocked on the door, but when no response came she just pushed inside.

“Fitz? You alright?” she called out, glancing around the area. Gasping, she let the door swing behind her. The room was in chaos, papers strewn about the floor, his bag discarded near a beanbag chair, spilling empty vials and snack bars onto the ground.

A shuffling came from upstairs--there was an upstairs? Fitz tumbled into the room a few moments later, disheveled, like he hadn’t realized they were actually coming.

Keefe let out a low whistle. “Okay, buddy. What the fuck.”

Fitz was picking at his lip, distracted, frantically scanning the papers on the floor like he was looking for something. “Hmm. Yea,” he responded absentmindedly.

Sophie was too busy scanning him from head to toe, searching every inch for sign of injury or distress. His knuckles were red and raw, his hair sticking out in every possible direction like he’d been running his hands through it, pulling at it.

“What did you need?” she asked, voice soft and gentle. Something was wrong. Something was eating eating eating at him enough that he’d asked her to come.

Fitz exhaled heavily, reaching up to run his hands down his face, then dropped them to his sides. “I don’t know,” he whispered, clenching his jaw. “It doesn’t make any sense.” he was picking at his lip again, arm shaking.

She tried again. “Well, maybe if you tried describing it, we could figure--”

“No.” He had turned around, lowering himself to the floor, collecting the papers and starting to place them in some sort of order. Where had he gotten paper? He glanced at her guiltily. “Sorry. That sounded rude. I didn’t mean--I’m sorry. I don’t mean that I don’t know what the problem is, the problem is that I don’t know. I don’t understand this. I keep--I keep going over what we know, organizing it into notes and sections and treating it like a goddamned homework assignment but I just...the pieces don’t fit together. And there are so many loose strings and things to tie up and come back to and I can’t get that information, which just makes it--”

“O-kay, babe. Let’s slow down there for a hot second,” Keefe interrupted, lowering himself next to Fitz. Fitz slumped, all the air rushing out of his body seemingly at once, expression softening into delicate pain.

Sophie just stood there for a moment before shaking herself out of it, kneeling on the floor beside him, taking the papers from his hand. It was just pages upon pages of notes, scribbled diagrams besides carefully organized and sectioned observations, notes about the wings and the creatures, notes about the little echo and the way Tam’s eyes had changed.

“Here,” he said, handing her a book on top of it all. “That’s what I’ve been working on.”

Oh. It was the book. The monster book. The journal they’d all started who knew how long ago, a collection of notes and things known about the various creatures they’d encountered so far. Their behaviors, their traits, the noise they made if any.

She’d forgotten they’d brought it along.

He clearly hadn’t.

“Okay,” she said, trying to collect herself. “What is...what have you been working on?” His thoughts were so disjointed, something occupying his mind so intensely he wasn't speaking clearly. Hard as she tried she couldn’t make sense of it.

Fitz gestured like it was obvious. “I’m trying to solve it. The wings.” He scooted closer to her, reaching out to flip through the pages to a new section.

A section...about all of them.

It felt so very wrong and off-putting, seeing themselves beside all those horrid things in that book. But she shook it off. Not now.

“Solve? What do you mean ‘solve?’” Keefe asked, leaning in closer to see the pages, quickly turning away when he caught a glimpse of a few sketched feathers, all in various shades of grey.

Fitz groaned, rubbing at his face again. “I can’t--I can’t explain it, okay? It just--it doesn't want to make sense. I swear it makes sense. There’s just--I’m just missing something and then I’ll figure it out and--there’s an explanation somewhere. If I just find it then we can--”

“We can what, Fitz?” Keefe asked, painfully soft.

He went quiet. His fingers curled, nails digging into his face until Sophie reached out to pull them away, lacing her fingers through his own. The movement aggravated her shoulder but she ignored it, letting out only the smallest sound. It didn’t matter. He was crying.

Keefe moved closer and began rubbing his back, the space between the protruding wings, telling him to breathe, the instruction accompanied by a wince of his own as all of Fitz’s...whatever it was hit him, flooding through his mind, visible on his face. But he just shook it off, continuing the slow circular motions.

“I don’t even know what I’m trying to do,” he laughed, hollow. His fingers tightened around Sophie’s before relaxing, falling into his lap. “We’ve already messed everything up. There’s no coming back from this. I don’t even know why I’m trying.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sophie said, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “We’re still trying. We’re always going to try--it’s what we do, right? Together. All of us. That’s how we work. That’s us. I like it that way.” She had no idea what to say.This was so...unexpected. Out of nowhere. Or maybe she just hadn’t been paying as much attention as she should’ve been.

He hummed half-heartedly in response, cheeks flooding red. Keefe absentmindedly reached up to brush a stray piece of hair from Fitz’s forehead, bumping him lightly with his shoulder.

“You should listen to Foster; she knows what she’s talking about most of the time.”

Sophie rolled her eyes at him, but Fitz was smiling slightly. “Yeah...she usually does. I guess that’s why I asked for you.”

“You don’t need a reason to ask for me,” she reminded him, letting go of his hand to flop back against the hard wood of the floor, the sound of something clattered to the ground accompanied it. But she didn’t notice, flinching as she hit her shoulder, staring towards the sloped ceiling, the veins of vines curving around the roof. Like the ones that had trapped that creature.

A pang of guilt overwhelmed her for a moment, almost enough to take her breath away. She still hadn’t told anyone about that. But she turned her attention back to the situation at hand. Keefe was looking at her funny, but he shook himself off and turned away.

Fitz shifted forward, flopping down on the floor beside her, wings spreading beneath him to accommodate for the shift. She couldn’t imagine it was comfortable, but he seemed fine.

“I know,” was all he said.

Keefe frowned. “Well now I feel a little left out. Do I get to join the cuddle session?” Fitz laughed, a real laugh, patting the open space to his right, inviting Keefe in.

When Keefe joined, Fitz was sandwiched between the two of them, the three of them looking off at nothing, pretending they didn’t notice the way their skin brushed against each other. No one spoke, the echoing of their heartbeats more than enough to fill the passing time.

They had responsibilities, yes. But this mattered more. Her friends, her family, would always matter more.

Fitz’s breathing evened out, the tension draining from his muscles. Whatever distressed frenzy he’d been in when they arrived started to ebb, his pulse slowed.

Sophie counted each beat, the three of them combined, still unnerved that she could even hear their hearts. Fitz’s hand was playing with her hair, rearranging it around her face as he lay beside her, oh so careful not to jostle her shoulder, the bandages. They’d shifted at some point, Sophie now more atop his wing so she could be closer to his body, Keefe the same on the other side. He was fiddling with Fitz’s hand, pulling at his fingers and tracing the lines with his palm.

“Thanks for coming,” Fitz whispered, breaking the long silence.

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t have to come,” he explained, not looking at either of them. “But thank you. I..I needed this. Someone.”

Keefe rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at the two of them. “We’re always going to be here when you need us, Avery.” Fitz rolled his eyes at him, smiling.

“Just…” Sophie began, pausing and restarting. “Thanks for reaching out. Instead of dealing with it on your own. Thanks for letting us in.” He blinked, like he hadn’t thought of it that way before.

Keefe pushed himself up further, looking over at something, drawing both of their attention. “Hey, uh. Foster? You’re getting some messages.” Her imparter--oh, that must’ve been what the noise was. It had fallen from her pocket, discarded somewhere on the floor--she’d turned off the vibrations and sound so she wouldn’t hear it if someone said anything. It was stupid, she knew, but she hadn’t known what else to do.

Exhaling, she closed her eyes. Yeah. She should deal with those now. Nodding to herself, she pushed herself into a sitting position, bearing her weight on her good arm. Keefe lowered himself back down next to Fitz.

One thing at a time.

Reaching over, she grabbed her imparter, bringing it to her lap so she could see it better.

Her mouth fell open. Fitz was watching her carefully, messing with Keefe’s hair and trying to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t observing her every move, gauging her reaction.

“How bad?” Keefe asked, head resting on his arms.

Sophie didn’t even respond, sitting up straighter and thumbing open the device, going straight to her messages. The most recent ones.

“Elwin--he messaged me.” She blurted out, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

They both stopped moving.

“He says he wants to meet up. Secretly. Just--just with him.” Trembling, she turned the screen around so they could read it.

Sophie. I don’t know what’s going on with you or your friends, but please let me help. I want nothing but the best for you and I can’t help you if you’re hidden. I’m not asking you to reveal your secrets, but let me in just enough to patch you up. I don’t need all the answers, but I won’t sleep well until I know I’ve done everything I can. You have injuries left untreated.

But it was the last part of the message that really stunned her.

No one knows I’m sending this, so don’t let them know. We can keep this just between us. You’re a strong, independent young woman, but I hope you’ll accept my help.

#:)))) #cliffhangers my beloved #someone scream about this with me #ahhhh #ten chapters in now!!! #it's getting so long!! #it's officially longer than some published novels!! #i have books on my shelf shorter than this au!! #anywaysss #how we feeling? #i told you not everything was bad #i will admit some parts were #but still!! #(also bad as in emotionally challenging/upsetting) #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc wings au #shattered upside down #shattered upside down chapter #quil's quill #kotlc fic #kotlc fanfic #long fic

[paragonrobits]

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My Top Posts in 2021

#5

seen some zuko discourse so here’s my two cents on that:

the first point is that Zuko is a soft-hearted and compassionate person who is very socially awkward and loyal to the point of self-sabotage

the second point is that he’s also kind of a huge asshole with massive anger management problems, tends to approach every situation as though he is automatically right, and can be very hard to deal with on a bad day.

the interesting thing here is that these are not isolated traits from each other, but spring from the same sources:

Zuko’s compassion and sense of loyalty is initially patriotic, and he values the lives of others, leading to his banishment. He CANNOT read a room and he’s very impulsive, so this can apply to both him doing something just on spur of the moment, or jumping across a room to assault someone in a jealous rage because they were talking to his girlfriend.

Zuko’s own sense of principles and rules is fairly firm, in a way akin to Aang, though his own sense of ethics is rather different. He believes he’s right and will fight to the death on behalf of those principles; but at the same time, he almost invariably refuses ANYONE’s advice or input, sometimes violently rebuffing them. Anyone who disagrees with him is automatically wrong, and it takes a lot for him to admit fault.

Zuko’s softness also is not apparent until late season 3, once he has achieved his destiny and joined Aang; its clear that years of living under Ozai’s thumb and assimilating his thought has made him actively avoid showing soft things or open compassion or affection. he’s a good boy at heart, but it takes a LOT to show any of it, and he mostly just gets mean and vicious in defense. Aang’s presence does a LOT to warm Zuko up and make him start becoming a better person. (Iroh did his best, and to his credit all of Zuko’s kinder moments early on directly relate to Iroh, but its not until Aang that we see Zuko being more genuinely open on a frequent basis.)

It may also be argued that his softness is directly linked to his asshole-ness; Zuko has been wounded and assumes a lot of life lessons from that, and its left him with a rather nasty temper BECAUSE he was kind. (Ironically, while Zuko is more consistently violent and vicious than Aang, the latter is far worse when he DOES lose his temper; Zuko shoots fireballs at people and does property damage, but when Aang loses it, entire cities could vanish instantly.)

383 notes • Posted 2021-03-09 00:04:44 GMT

#4

Zuko hot take of the day; to really get Zuko’s character right, you have to understand that with him, what you see is absolutely what you get.

Reading things into Zuko, or trying to assume underlying desires or thoughts he has, is kind of missing the point with him. He’s a fundamentally honest and straightforward person, so while he certainly has depth and hidden attributes, he’s not a person who can hide anything at all for long, and he doesn’t conceal his feelings.

This is a man who, relying entirely on his uncle’s good will, still calls him a greedy, lazy and foolish old man whenever he’s slgihtly annoyed at him. He explodes over tiny things or inconveniences, and even at the peak of his Good Boy Now arc, he’s prone to explosive outbursts and needlessly cruel remarks. This is both a good and negative aspect of his character; he doesn’t hide who he is or conceal anything, and he likes something or does not, he lets you know. This makes him both easy to deal with and understand, and also kind of a bastard at times, since he has no concept of, say, not making incredibly nasty racist or classist comments.

The point of all this, though, is that Zuko is too unsubtle to have ulterior motives. He lets you know damn well what his motives are, straight up.

So, when you read his character, its a bad idea to go looking for his Secret Motivation, because he doesn’t have one. He doesn’t have hidden plans or secret agendas, because he’s too honest and blunt to conceal them in any way.

(Yes, this is absolutely about EiP and him refusing to move so Aang can sit next to Katara. If Zuko wanted to sit next to her specifically, he would have SAID so, since he’s too honest to hold his tongue. He’s a simple guy, in the sense that he is straightforward and doesn’t bother with being super complicated and he sees things in a plain way.)

438 notes • Posted 2021-03-01 20:34:24 GMT

#3

one of the funniest things about Discworld as a whole is the way that many of the protagonists are jaded cynics who firmly believe the world is selfish and cruel and stupid and will never stop being bad, but they still get up to do the right thing because they believe you MUST do the right thing if you’re remotely capable of understanding it

but while the setting posits it’s people as generally being selfish all the time, the plot is extremely idealistic, optimistic and hopeful, completely contrasting the antihero’s viewpoints

the funny bit is that they are both aware of this, and vaguely irritated by their world’s narrative being a foil to them

483 notes • Posted 2021-01-07 01:20:19 GMT

#2

“knuckles is, for mysterious reasons, working with Robotnik”

did... did people forget knuckles’ whole thing was BEING INTRODUCED as an ally to Robotnik but he was actually misled and manipulated?

like this is almost literally his origin in EVERY SINGLE continuity

this is not a new thing??

561 notes • Posted 2021-12-12 04:47:33 GMT

#1

i was genuinely surprised to find out that people thought that Zuko refusing to give his seat to Aang in Ember Island Players so aang and katara could sit together was Zuko having romantic feelings for Katara

because it really read to me more like ‘ex-Prince Zuko, who couldn’t see a hint if it tried to eat his head, fails to see the complexities of a romance going literally right outside his door 24/7 now’

he sat down and he’s being obstinate and refusing to move, its not PERSONAL for him, he’s just an oblivious dork

16378 notes • Posted 2021-01-29 16:52:35 GMT

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