#but anyway ... beating a dead horse again when i should be reading

[morethansky]

As promised, my thoughts on Tech's fate.

If you think they changed their minds about revealing Tech to be alive, you might not want to read this. I'm not trying to debate or dissuade anyone; this is just my personal take.

Also, please be forewarned that this is quite Hunter critical. I love to write the man, but god, he’s so bad for my blood pressure.

This is still such a hard thing for me to talk about. To be honest, I ducked out of the TBB fandom between the time when i finished “i keep what i can of you” and S3 started because it felt like I couldn’t say what I thought without either hurting the people who thought Tech was dead and were traumatized or inciting the wrath of those believed he was alive, some of whom got so haughty and/or oddly hostile whenever any other possibilities were stated in their vicinity. It seems that after I left, the opposite started happening too? The hellish fandom ouroboros.

Anyway, so here are my unfiltered thoughts, because I might explode if I don't write them down. After I watched “Plan 99,” I thought Tech was dead, and I was extremely traumatized and hysterical about it. I remember that night I couldn’t sleep, and I stayed up till morning trying to process the sense of betrayal I felt and figure out what to do with the sweet little WIP I had been working on, which was about Tech and Wrecker facing the concept of death for the first time. (I have now rewritten it to be much darker but for Tech to live, and as CX-2, so I hope that proves I mean well with this post.)

Because it’s me and it’s media, I was not only traumatized but also furious. To be frank, I’m not usually this deeply affected by character deaths. I have written a lot of major character death fics and grief/mourning is a component of like 60 percent of my writing. In fact, when character deaths are done well, I think they’re fantastic. The worthy, well-done ones can make the characters shine even more brightly.

That is not the case here. Tech dies for literally nothing. The protagonists don’t achieve anything at all from it besides returning to square one, less a member. They don’t find the coordinates to Tantiss. They don’t find anything about who Hemlock is or what the Advanced Science Division does. They don’t overhear any vital intel from the meeting with all the Imperial bigwigs. They don’t gain any insight from Saw. They don’t even find out whether Crosshair was actually in captivity and whether his saying Plan 88 was him laying a trap for them or not.

And that is some of the worst messaging I’ve ever seen in a Y-7 American action cartoon. And believe me, I’ve watched a lot of them.

Allow me to beat the dead horse one last time. Finally, after two entire seasons of the show, a member of the main cast is like, “Hey, remember how Crosshair used to be one of us? Even if he kind of sucks, shouldn’t we help him? He did just try to warn us.” And I was ECSTATIC. Didn’t expect the autistic character to be the one to be like, no, fuck you, we should do the right thing no matter the risk (autistic characters are so often morally gray and it’s so frustrating), but I loved it so much! That’s me!!

…And then he literally dies because he wanted to do the right thing. Hunter, the character who does not want to help people, who rejects the idea of going to Eriadu and has to be convinced otherwise, IS PROVEN CORRECT. What the ever-loving fuck is that messaging? That’s right, kids—if you selflessly try to help other people, you’ll be killed. So maybe don’t bother, actually. And this show just underlines that message over and over again! The only people who matter are those you consider family. Everyone else can rot. In fact, people who are willing to risk their lives to help people are foolish and idealistic. The things Hunter says to Echo are repeatedly so fucked up ("When will it be enough?" Dude wtf???), and it's nuts that the show doesn't offer Hunter's narrow-minded perspective as a contrast to Echo's determination to do the right thing—it offers Echo as a contrast to Hunter's motivations to retire (which we understand because when the two of them split up, we follow Hunter instead of Echo—and not even in addition to Echo! He only shows up again because he's visiting Hunter's story!).

That’s straight-up American conservative ideology. I will never not be pissed at them for making the fucking deuteragonist—and a clone character at that—like that. And in Star Wars! The franchise that is overwhelmingly and consistently about fighting fascists! Made by the company founded and based in the Bay Area, the most progressive region of the country!!!

To be frank, I almost turned the TV off right then. But I thought, okay…a horrible way to get to it, but…maybe now is the moment? Maybe now they’ll finally join Echo and Rex, and be super determined to find Tantiss and Crosshair and the many other clones whose designations were on the roster—to complete the mission that Tech so passionately insisted on before he sacrificed himself.

BUT NO! Hunter immediately pressures Omega into going to Pabu. And why wouldn’t he? The narrative proved him right! By trying to do the right thing, Tech died. So we’ll just go back to ignoring the suffering of countless beings across the galaxy, including our own kind. Millions of straight-up metaphorical versions of us. Cool.

And then Omega gets captured. So because Tech wants to do the right thing, he dies, and because Omega agrees with him, she gets taken away. And then suddenly Hunter puts away Pabu entirely and becomes super gung-ho about finding her. Which is just…why did they write him like this. Why did they even have the conversation about Pabu?? Leaving it out would have made Hunter's motivations flow so much better. Because by introducing that, they invite the crucial question: Why was that what it took for him to stop running but losing Crosshair and Tech didn’t??? Because he only cares about this one child's well-being and it's his single motivation as a character???

A contingent of Crosshair fans have seemed to vocally dislike Hunter from the start because he left Crosshair, and I’m like no, you don’t understand. It’s not about the character, it’s about the writing. In some cases, it does end up being the character rather than the writing, and you can usually tell because the writing condemns that in the character. Not here though! Hunter's decisions throughout the show are celebrated by it. And Hunter gets his way, as we see now with them retiring on Pabu and ignoring the fight even as "the Rebellion needs pilots now more than ever." Thank god the finale at least posited that Echo was also right, which is kind of like the bare minimum they could've done in that regard.

So Tech’s death hit me particularly hard because it felt like just a waste of two entire episodes, a waste of an enjoyable character they had just given some really poignant depth, and a waste of the chance to give Hunter the character development I was desperate for—and also like a betrayal, a slap in the face, because it was like the show was saying that heroes are stupid, that Tech was foolish for wanting to do the right thing. Which is nuts given the rest of the SW animated oeuvre. And is fucking hurtful. And bad for kids.

So when the theories about Tech’s survival started floating around that night, I thought, okay, yeah, maybe this was such a stupid death and waste of screen time because it’s to set up something really cool. I could get behind that, even if the entire setup would still be faulty and honestly kind of repulsive to me.

I engulfed everyone’s theories in those weeks I spent mourning, desperate to be convinced—but as much as I wanted to believe there was a plan at work, I just couldn’t buy it 100 percent because…would the people who wrote this awful arc, and who made all the oddest choices possible at any given time throughout both seasons thus far, really intend to set up and execute something so well thought out and complex?

Of course not. People kept being like, “We have to trust the writers. They have a grand plan. They wouldn’t just throw away Tech. It would be ableist, and that’s why he’s not dead.” Like??? The show was already ableist! One of the main characters is disabled and his being disabled is specifically relevant to why he’s even in this squad and in this show—and it’s never remotely discussed! The closest is the most oblique reference ever to how Echo doesn't like to be alone. That's it. Just because they actually managed to write this wonderful moment about Tech being autistic doesn’t mean their track record was suddenly irrelevant! Killing off their neurodivergent character is exactly the kind of ableist shit they would do! And see now: Crosshair's hand. Also Echo suddenly having a hand after not having one for so long and it being completely untouched upon. It's par for the course!

So the Tech Lives theories all hinged on the writing being really clever, but I just. Already hated so much of the writing, and it felt way more likely that they were just continuing to be bad writers and continuing to go with the poorer plot choice option every single time they had the opportunity to go a direction that would be thought provoking and emotionally affecting.

I felt very much and very sadly proven right when the season started, and we got no mention of Tech being dead until the FIFTH episode. The Batch never talked about Crosshair and why he tried to kill them, so I guess why would they talk about Tech dying, sigh. And it was so bizarre how people were arguing that Omega and Crosshair's little exchange about Tech was super touching and gave us everything we needed. It absolutely did not! The fact that we couldn't agree on whether Crosshair even knew tells you everything you need to know about the wacky writing choices! Why was it so vague?? They literally could have added one word:

Crosshair: Did they teach you plan 72? Omega: Mm-hmm. Tech had me memorize all the plans, before... Crosshair: Of course he did.

On that note, I began to feel uneasy about the fandom again, because it started feeling like an echo chamber, and I was worried everyone was getting too hyped about something that might not happen, and even if it did, might end up being some kind of poorly done fanservice. I started seeing a lot of defensive posts being like, “Well, the reason they’re not mentioning Tech is because he’s not dead, and you’re an idiot, unlike me, if you’re falling for their sneaky tricks.”

Like??? The prevalence of ride-or-die sentiments like that started making me feel like I was losing my grip on reality and watching a completely different show from everyone else. Wouldn’t the dramatic effect of Tech being alive be strengthened by the characters all mourning him, thus making us mourn him, thus making the plot twist that he’s alive even more effective?? Wouldn't the characters being shown to be affected by his death instead of just ignoring it be the most promising sign of his impending return?

To me, the characters not mourning Tech meant that the writers had put him aside and moved on (which is, again, terrible writing because it doesn’t give the viewers the space to grieve and then move on, and it makes the characters feel terribly heartless, which, well. At least they were consistent). And that blasé moving on made the possibility of him being dead WAY more likely to me. Of course they would kill their neurodivergent character and then just all but pretend it didn't happen. Of course they would act as if he had just been a convenient plot device! Of course they would only bring him up and act like they missed him when he wasn't there to miraculously do the characters' work for them and the writers' work for them! Fuck that so hard.

So then “Infiltration” and “Extraction” were a big surprise! I was like, oh, huh, guess I was totally wrong and they’re really doing it, wow. Okay, let’s see if they can actually pull it off. I liked the writing a lot better this season, so it felt more plausible that they were finally getting down to business. The fact that the clues felt so heavy handed was kind of weird to me, and I complained a lot about there not being red herrings, but I love a good Came Back Wrong story, so I was willing to believe I had been too pessimistic and cynical, as I often am.

After “Bad Territory” and “The Harbinger,” however, I started doubting it again. Fitting both this M-count mystery that had already taken up so much screen time plus a Tech Lives mystery just felt like a lot of ground to cover, and this was the show that couldn’t even seem to fit more than five seconds of the main characters being sad about the death of their squad mate. Did they really have what it would take to pace it?

Of course not!!!

After “Point of No Return,” I started to feel like if they did bring Tech back, it would be at the cost of it being done poorly. And to me, for his purported death AND his resurrection to be badly written would be way worse than just the former. And the draw of the whole Winter Soldier deal is the fallout; the guilt and doubt the characters harbor; the way they have to reckon with the fact that even if their loved one is back, they will never be the same again, because they did die in a way—and the less time allotted after a reveal like that, the fewer of those key things there would be, which would just make it feel so tacked on for cheap shock value and social media chatter. Especially because there had been so little buildup to such a thing at the beginning of the season. These writers' abilities are just not remotely close to Ed Brubaker's, y'all.

Then Rampart being introduced afterward felt like the death knell (oop) because it was a new plot thread they would need to wrap up by the end. But the Clone X thread was still dangling, so I felt like it wasn’t out of the question. But I guess after my complaints about the Tech connections being too obvious and there needing to be more red herrings, it turned out that the Tech connections themselves were the red herrings.

Although I feel like that's probably even giving the writers too much credit. I don't know if I really believe they were trying to mislead us. I feel like they just clumsily ended up doing things that coincided with the Tech Lives theories. Like I honestly wouldn't be surprised if when they used "domicile" it was completely without realizing they had previously had Tech say it and that this would lead to the viewers drawing an erroneous conclusion. They probably just wanted CX-2 to say something fancy and mysterious tbh, and the same words tend to float in writers' minds. Rip us.

I guess now I understand what I could never work out—if CX-2 was Tech, then why did he so specifically use rifles like Crosshair does and so proficiently, i.e. specifically better than Crosshair did? Why wouldn't he dual wield hand blasters?

Also, although I was in some ways relieved that at least they didn't write a bad resurrection for Tech, and there's absolutely no way it wouldn't have been shit if it'd just been shoved anywhere in the last three episodes, all this is not to say the Clone X concept didn't end up being super hamfisted as well. Just the fact that there are other Clone X types with different weapons and uniforms makes the concept even more confusing. Clearly these guys were meant to mirror the Batch, but then why did all the ones we encountered before CX-2 wear the same uniform as him?? Did they sort the clones into categories of which Clone X they would be? It would actually be cool if the point was to sow fear in the galaxy because it would seem like the person in the CX-2 suit was undefeatable, especially because they were completely covered and their build would be the same every time. But that would be too cool and coherent for this show, sigh.

Also, was Hemlock project managing them, or was Scorch? Neither really makes sense, but who was sending them after Rex's rebel cell? Was there a military higher-up giving the Advanced Science Division that directive? Why did CX-2 and the one that Rex's cell captured hate Crosshair so much? Why the fuck did CX-2 cut off his hand???

Anyway. I could go on forever, but I think at the end of the day, we all read too much into it because we are just collectively better writers than the writers are tbh. Sadly, a classic fandom experience. I guess what ultimately saved me the most from heartbreak and allowed me to earnestly enjoy the finale was that I had already spent a year believing Tech had died and suffered through my grief (by, you guessed it, writing a grief/mourning fic), and I just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was no way these writers could pull off something so emotional and complex. I swear I didn’t actually want to be right!

I think if nothing else, one thing we can all agree on is that Tech surviving could’ve been one kickass story, and it was a hell of a missed opportunity.

#the bad batch spoilers #i'm also mad about tech but i think it's for a different reason than a lot of folks #okay no more meta for at least another week omg #i need to do some actual writing instead of using my brainpower to shout into the void #amph talks

[renaultmograine]

fathers and the fandom's thoughts on them

[clasps hands] ok!

as a preface: all lore is just interpretations, death of the author, what i assert as fact is just my interpretation of lore, all of that.

That said! I think there's been some ignorantly made interpretations, because there are assertions being made that I cannot believe are made in good faith if you've read the comics. And I don't think (or rather, hope) that the people making these assertions are malicious, but I do feel like I need to go and share lore to make sure people get the full picture of what's going on.

There's been multiple posts about how Varian is a bad father and that Anduin didn't know what love from his father felt like growing up, and I'm just completely and utterly baffled by that assertion. I don't know where this came from, other than maybe the Sylvanas book, where Anduin (or Golden) just lies and says that Anduin and Varian weren't close, but that hasn't been the lore for well over a decade. So here's like forty fucking panels from the comics.

Remember when Tiffin died in the riots? That was because Onyxia so she could fuck Varian. She was waiting for him to get over his grief before pouncing, intending on mind controlling him, but as Varian got over his grief and put his focus into his son, he fought off Onyxia's control. That was the reason why Onyxia split him apart in the first place.

The WHOLE reason Lo'gosh even remembers who he was is because he had a vision where Anduin needed him.

During this time, with the other half of Varian, Anduin is perceptive enough to know something is going on with is father, who is now shirking his duties in favor of cozying up with Katrana, and is literally plotting with Bolvar and Magni over it

but also, believe it or not, the comic shows varian and anduin spending time together

Does this seem like Varian not loving his son, when Onyxia has to kill Anduin to get anywhere with Varian? And let me bring up these panels where Anduin falls off his horse and Varian throws himself off a cliff to catch his son again

I don't want to beat a dead horse here but this isn't "I don't love my child" behavior. Should I just keep posting panels?

Like, yeah, cataclysm was a rough time for Anduin and Varian, when Anduin was branching out and having his own life and Varian wasn't exactly prepared for it, but also Varian almost killed Moira because he thought Anduin's life was slightly imperiled because of her. The whole idea that Varian didn't love Anduin until MoP is so fantastical it's ridiculous. I could get into a deeper dissertation on all of this, but honestly I don't think that's needed.

But it's not as ridiculous as the other assertion I saw, which was that Alexandros was a good father? I keep seeing this in regard to Varian and Genn both, and I need to remind people that Alexandros was co-dependent on his youngest son in a poor effort to cope with his wife's death, and took out his anger on his older son repeatedly, to the point of physical violence.

There's a lot of ways to describe Alexandros, but "a better father than Varian and Genn" when a dreadlord had to intervene to make sure there wasn't a domestic incident in the middle of the Silver Hand camp is a bit disingenuous.

Anyway don't take this as me vaguing or anything, this is a take I've seen multiple times from multiple sources over the course of months, and it drives me up the wall. I love Alexandros, but he's the worst fucking man ever, do NOT say he's a better father than Varian and Genn. If Alexandros was a good father, Lordaeron would've been recovered before WoW, and that's that on that.

#whats that ask i got once. why are you autistically screeching? #warcraft #varian wrynn #varian #anduin wrynn #anduin #alexandros mograine #alexandros #anyway the next person who tells me alexandros was a good father owes both me and sally whitemane recompsense.

[aetherknit]

i feel bad spamming but talking my ass off helps me so some asks are under the read more

agree agree. AH fandom was past its prime at the time anyway so its more of a struggle to say whether itll shake out in repercussions. i will say i do not think george and sapnap will denounce dream no matter what but we'll see.

welcome to the first stage of grief :sob:

im trying very hard not to be copium but also take care of myself like realistically this is a hiatus at best. unfortunately i will continue to follow this story obsessively probably but like im trying to exercise healthiness LOL. (im crying at this p.s.)

im not joking when i say this is the best fandom experience of my life. i will genuinely miss this community so terribly i just dont know. hopefully we will all meet again in other interests

foot in mouth but i genuinely did not think the stuff from yesterday was that serious and now we have 2022 evidence and its like jesus im nauseous

listen i get it. and im not gonna be the one to say we all have to move on because its beating a dead horse and i dont know that its what we need right now. but you will find a new routine, you will find a new interest eventually. my hyperfixations have never been this long lasting so like. i get your struggle

thank you anon :,) good luck with your studies, i def think that's for the best. im gonna try to do the same and maybe just spend a lot of time with friends. much love to you

i feel like i should have reached this point so long ago like damn the parasocialism demons really DID get me

i know i think its why im answering asks rn like despite my best efforts this has become my habit and my downtime happiness so it just really sucks it feels like there's nowhere to turn. i hope all of you are okay as well and ill miss dtblr like hell

i wasnt sure if i should post this but like ill just say im worried about her case if she keeps up like i was already worried because dream is a man and rich and famous and assuming everything shes saying is true i hope she gets legal advice asap :sob:

#ask #negative tw

[intoevernightfanfic]

💝, 📍,💋,🎉

😁

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Goodness, I'm gonna have to talk about several right now lol. Honestly, I was shocked at the response to At Your Service. Just so many kudos and hits on the first couple of chapters (it's been such a long period since I last posted that I can't say about now, but that doesn't matter). IDK why I was so surprised, because porn with plot does well. It happened with Twenty First Times, which was my pet project but I didn't think it would be that popular either, and yet for a while, it was my most kudos-ed fic. Anyway, insert pikachu shocked face lol.

On the flip side, I was really surprised that Spirits and Specters flopped as hard as it did. I thought it was cute! But I suppose it sounded too bittersweet, and gen fics don't do as well. As far as ship fics, I was a little surprised High Tide didn't hit the same stats as my other PWP fics. At first, I wondered if maybe it was written worse than those, but then considering that the other PWP from Tomoe's POV didn't do as well as the ones from Nanami's POV, I think maybe we just all want the story to be told from the POV of the hot fox's love interest. 🤣

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

(Sorry! ;3; I couldn't find📍so I grabbed the closest one in appearance!)

I don't think it changes too much in style. Any adjustments are based on the genres I'm writing for, but I still have my quirks and I still have my preferred flows and syntactical structures. I have a few fics that I've tried to be more minimalistic about (which I struggle with, because I feel like I won't be understood if I don't beat a dead horse LOL). I think, again, it depends on the subject matter and genre, though. Like, for instance, Arranged Marriage is a much more complicated fic than Twenty First Times. Plus, I have multiple POVs in the former. It's going to be a lot longer.

For the future, though, I'd like to limit to one POV and that will affect it a bit. Mostly I need this change because the amount of editing I've been doing is unsustainable. I need shorter chapters to work with.

💋when you leave comments on a fic, do you want to hear back from the writer?

Not gonna lie -- I do! It goes back to fostering community and opening dialogue with other fans. But I also understand if someone doesn't have the spoons or doesn't know what to say, and it's totally fine not to reply. I don't feel ignored if someone doesn't respond to me and I'll keep commenting. The only time I might feel a bit weird is if everyone else gets a reply but me. Then I wonder if I'm overstepping some boundary I didn't know about. I would 100% rather know if I've made someone uncomfortable so I can adjust my behavior.

🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!)

Honestly? Not enough these days LOL. I don't think it's a secret that I've been very frustrated lately. And it's really no one's fault but my own! I have a tendency to chop things up because I fret over how it comes across, or if it's actually "bad" (even when I enjoyed writing it), and I've been putting unnecessary pressure on myself. I will say I have a huge sense of accomplishment and relief when I finish the first draft of a chapter fic I worked on, especially if it went on for a while. I typically enjoy reading the first draft way more than what ends up being posted (probably because I've read it to death by that point LOL).

Thanks for the ask, @liz8080 😁💕

#asks #liz8080

[brightdeadthing]

- Ocean Vuong, from Time Is a Mother (text under the cut)

We are shoveling snow, this man and I, our backs coming closer along the drive. It’s so quiet every flake on my coat has a life. I used to cry in a genre no one read. What a joke, they said, on fire. There’s no money in it, son, they shouted, smoke from their mouths. But ghosts say funny things when they’re family. This man and I, we take what will vanish anyway and move it aside, making space. There is so much room in a person there should be more of us in here. Traveler who is inches away but never here, are you warm where you are? Are you you where you are? Something must come of this. In one of the rooms in the house the man and I share, a loaf of rye is rising out of itself, growing lighter as it takes up more of the world. In humans, we call this Aging. In bread, we call it Proof. We’re in our thirties now and I rolled the dough just an hour ago, pushing my glasses up my nose with a flour-dusted palm as I read, reread, the hand-scrawled recipe given me by the man’s grandmother, the one who, fleeing Stalin, bought a ticket from Vilnius to Dresden without thinking it would stop, it so happened, in Auschwitz (it was a town after all), where she and her brother were asked to get off by soldiers who whispered, keep moving, keep moving like boys leading horses through wheat fields in the night. How she passed the huddled coats, how some were herded down barbed-wired lanes. The smoke from our mouths rising as the man and I bend and lift, in silence, the morning clear as one inside a snow globe. How can we know, with a house full of bread, that it’s hunger, not people, that survives? He pours a bag of salt over the pavement. From where I’m standing it looks like light is spilling out of him, like the dusty sunray that found his grandmother’s hands as she got back on the train, her brother at her side, smoke from the engine blown across the faces outside, which soon fell back into pine forests, washed pastures, empty houses with full rooms. The man clutches his stomach as if shot, the light floods out of him—I mean you. Because something must come of this. When the guard asked your grandmother if she was Jewish, she shook her head, half-lying, then took from her bag a roll, baked the night before, tucked it in the guard’s chest pocket. She didn’t look back as the train carried her, newly twenty, toward where I now stand, on a Sunday in Florence, Massachusetts, squinting at her faded scrawl: sift flour, then beat eggs until happy-yellow. The train will reach Dresden days before the sky is filled with firebombers. More smoke. A bullet or shrapnel, failing to find her. The brother under rubble, his name everywhere outside her like the snow falling on your face forty years later, on December 2, 1984, while your mother carries you, alive only three hours, the few steps to the mini-van where your grandmother, sixty now, crowns your head with her brother’s name. Peter, she says, Peter, as if the dead could be called back into new, stunned bones. The snow has started up again, whitening the path as though nothing happened. But to live like a bullet, to touch people with such intention. To be born going one way, toward everything alive. To walk into the world you never asked for and choose a place where your wanting ends—which part of war do we owe this knowledge? It’s warm in this house where we will die, you and I. Let the stanza be one room, then. Let it be big enough for everyone, even the ghosts rising now from this bread we tear open to see what we’ve made of each other. I know, we’ve been growing further apart, unhappy but half full. That clearing snow and baking bread will not fix this. I know, too, as I reach across the table to brush the leftover ice from your beard, that it’s already water. It’s nothing you say, laughing for the first time in weeks. It’s really nothing. And I believe you. I shouldn’t, but I do.

#this and reasons for staying. they just. ugh. him. words #poetry #ocean vuong #quotes #lit #archive #also fun fact when doing the text transcription from this i copy + pasted from an old version of it online #and its so FASCINATING to see what he switches out and what he leaves in rlly and truly #maybe an analysis ab that too soon. maybe

[always-thirsty-pocket]

What other Nintendo franchises did you lose interest in?

Not often people actually want to hear this stuff, I just want to remind anyone reading this that somebody asked for my opinion, so keep that in mind before you say i'm being whiny, I keep this shit to myself for the most part unless someone asks... anyway...

Pokemon is one but I don't need to beat that dead horse again. I think Splatoon probably held the record for going stale, Splatoon 2 felt pretty much like the exact same game as splatoon 1 but with a few things from splatoon 1 missing. And Splatoon 3 looks like more of the same again. When people post videos of Splatoon 3 I can't tell anything that's different about it from Splatoon 2. Feels like a game that should have waited a generation and Splatoon 2 could have just got a hefty expansion, or maybe instead of a new mainline game, Splatoon coulda made it's first spinoff.

Animal Crossing is kinda getting there too but being able to decorate outside went a really long way with New Horizons. I think some of the more important updates took too long to get here though, I got tired of playing when they introduced the ability to decorate our residents homes, which was one of my most wanted features since my fave villager Paula still has her same shitty starter home from day 1. New Horizons really turned it around but I REALLY want the next Animal Crossing to be different.

Yoshi is another one. Too easy. Too much Yoshi Story influence in both the art style and the music. It gradually got more papercrafty. I just don't care for the direction they've taken Yoshi as a character after the SNES era. He feels like he should be on Sesame Street now.

Kirby... ehhh... I can't say I've lost interest, because I really want to play Forgotten Land. I just think there are only so many times I can be wowed by "cute pink puff sees Dedede doing bad things but surprise surprise, Dedede was innocent and an ancient dark god was behind it all", like this is exactly the thing people were getting tired of with Sonic, why is it okay when Kirby does it? I don't want dedede to be a villain again, I'm just tired of the stakes being that high all the time, give me a break once in a while, give me more Superstar level stuff... also I don't think the gameplay gimmicks they've been adding add anything of value, they mostly slow the pace at best and are clunky and make the game less fun at worst. Also none of the spinoffs have ever looked fun to me.

I don't think there's anything else i'm losing interest in, there may be stuff i'm more indifferent to these days but my investment in them was never strong to begin with, like I guess Pikmin, I like the first game, never got a chance to play the 2nd game, and thought the third one was just okay.

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Just beat Fire Emblem Blazing Blade kinda Deathless (after only playing FEH and Fates before)

LOBSTER LORD IS OUT GREAT LORD IS IN HECTOR MY MAN MY GUY MY MVP

Like 40 people worked on this game. Most things were made by 2 people max. The translator list is longer than any of the other categories. Wth

Main Trio, your honor I love them. It is VERY rare for me to care about main characters of a game but these guys man

Which is also very evil because I know this game is a prequel to Blazing Blade and looking at the versions of Hector I have in FEH I‘m like 95% sure this man kicked the bucket. Rip King

Given that the amount of main character dads I’ve seen survive till the end so far is a total of zero, and looking at the versions of Elliwood I have in FEH I‘m like 60% sure he’s also gonna kick the bucket. Rip King

Elliwood Hector Support B is the funniest thing in this entire game. Support A is the most evil thing in this entire game if those 95% are right ;-;

Meanwhile Lyn casually quit her job dumped it on Hector and went back to live in the plains. Good for her tbh, Long Live the Queen

I do love how Lyn and Hector went from not liking each other to being basically gremlins around each other. Character development lol

The support system is kinda whack ngl, it takes 80 points per level and even the closest characters only grow 3 each turn. I did most chapters in around 10-15 rounds, had to grind for 70 turns in a chapter just to get any supports

Eliwood‘s other stats might suck but at least his rizz is maxed out it seems

The romance really ain’t hitting it if you already got that A support bromance and B support to complete the Main Gang Trio

Hey Rebecca doesn’t look like she wants to devour my soul anymore! Nice

Where did the horse come from. Whose horse did the Heaven Seal steal. Is the horse magic. What

Something about noted redhead Eliwood‘s ancestor having Marth-blue hair just feels very very wrong

I don’t even go here but. Old men Yaoi. Perhaps Ancient men yaoi, even

Whenever a character tells you that you should let them talk to someone and maybe they’ll stop to fight, it works. Since the beginning of the game, and even with characters who wanted to see you dead chapters before. And then it doesn’t.

I had to load a save state because Nino died that very same move.

Ouch. Very good scene for character showing. But ouch.

When you defeat the final chapter main enemies they gain color back and smile before closing their eyes and despawning. Stoooop T-T

I didn’t take Nino into that battle because wow she’s underleveled but. I bet there would’ve been extra dialogue if she kills a certain 2 guys. Or there should’ve been if there isn’t.

How those particular enemies were made + the permanent death mechanic = some PRIME source for angst. Bonus points if it’s one of the characters who get special reactions from other folks when they die, like Rath or Markus

Are we sure FEH Rebecca isn’t actually a Morph of the original person out for Summoner‘s quintessence. It would explain her eyes

You can’t just give pirate guy a quiet scene promising his captain to come back save only to then say in the after credits he probably died protecting him and no way to get the body. What the heck Intelligent systems

They’re OLD oh wow that color looks really bad on Eliwood. I can see why they slapped Roy’s palette on him. Though now it kinda reads like Eliwood‘s got his main character rights revoked lmao

BABY ROY. PRECIOUS BEAN GOT EVEN PRECIOUSER

SCREW YOU ZEPHIEL HECTOR KILLED LIKE 15 PEOPLE TO SAVE YOUR SORRY BUTT AND THIS IS (with a 95% likelihood) THE THANKS ;-;

Hector ily but I am NOT replaying 17 chapters that I all already played with you just because chapter 11 is apparently unique

And once again the titular item is barely present for a single chapter or two in this entire game only to justify said title lmao

Why does this thing keep changing locations anyways. And it’s always near the places where apocalypses involving dragons happen. Y’all maybe the Fire Emblem is cursed

Tldr good game very fun

#fire emblem blazing blade #Fire emblem #not mentioned: I like most characters a decent amount #just didn’t have much to say #didn’t manage to get any of Ravens supports to A which is a shame #because there’s some neat mini-plotlines here #Eliwood going ^Markus? MARKUS!!?^ the one time the old man actually died on me really hurt ngl #before that Berserked Lyn killed Rath once but that was just a ^You ok?^ ^….^ #implications had more impact than the scene itself (or #or maybe the tone didn’t go though #anyways I‘m now low key curious how many characters have special dialogue like that

[iviarellereads]

The Eye of the World, Chapter 35 - Caemlyn

(THIS PROJECT IS SPOILER FREE! No spoilers past the chapter you click on. Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Wheel of Time, read this one!)

(White Lion of Andor icon)(1) In which I get to explain another meme.

Rand thought he knew what a great city would look like, after Shadar Logoth, but it's even better than he imagined. Whitebridge could fit here twenty times with room to spare, and the city wall is fifty feet high, everything is majestic and beautiful. And there are so many PEOPLE! Mat wonders how they can hide with so many people around. Rand points out that there are so many people to look through, they must be safe, as long as Mat can watch his fool mouth.

Bunt advises that if Rand's holding the sword Holdwin told him about, he should hide it, stop wearing it, sell it, anything to not be seen with it. It'll draw more attention than he wants. Then he takes off and Rand loses sight of him in the crowd.(2)

Rand tries to focus, to figure out where to go next, now that they're in Caemlyn. He can't quite grasp the flame and void, but he tells himself aloud that their friends are alive. He remembers that Thom told them to find an inn called the Queen's Blessing, they should go there first. Mat gets paranoid again, more than ever, with all the people around, and Rand has to give him a pep talk about they won't give in now, or it was all for nothing. They aren't caught yet. Mat apologizes and they go find directions to the inn.

One man they ask, with a white armband and a white cockade on his hat, says they've come too late. Confused, they keep looking. Along the way, there are many shops offering relics, scraps of the False Dragon's cloak and fragments of his sword, as if they could all be real.

Rand knows someone will notice that he's hiding something with his cloak on one side, but he can't stop wearing his sword, his one link to Tam. He sees that many men are wearing swords, some bound with white and some with red, in such a way as nobody would be able to see heron-marks. Rand notes that red wrapping cloth is cheaper than white, though he sees no difference in quality, so he buys the red and wraps his sword in an alley so he can stop looking quite so suspicious.(3) Besides, adopting a local fashion will make them stand out a little less. Mat's just paranoid that they got cheated on the price anyway, and they'll get beat up and robbed and… Rand basically ignores him.

Eventually, they really do find the Queen's Blessing, and introduce themselves to Basil Gill, the innkeeper,(4) as friends of Thom's. His smile slips a bit, and he pulls them aside.

Gill asks what's in the flute case, and Rand opens it. Thom would part with his arm as soon as that flute, so what's happened? Rand says he's dead, protecting them. Gill says he'll believe Thom's dead when he sees a corpse, and not before.(5) He's harder to kill than you'd think, old Thom Merrilin. He believes they saw what they say, but he doesn't think Thom's seen his end yet.

“Coming to Caemlyn, you say?” The innkeeper shook his head. “This is the last place on earth I’d expect Thom to come, excepting maybe it was Tar Valon.” He waited for a stableman to pass, leading a horse, and even then he lowered his voice. “You’ve trouble with the Aes Sedai, I take it.” “Yes,” Mat grumbled at the same time that Rand said, “What makes you think that?” Master Gill chuckled dryly. “I know the man, that’s what. He’d jump into that kind of trouble, especially to help a couple of lads about the age of you. . . .” The reminiscence in his eyes flickered out, and he stood up straight with a chary look. “Now . . . ah . . . I’m not making any accusations, mind, but . . . ah . . . I take it neither of you can . . . ah . . . what I’m getting at is . . . ah . . . what exactly is the nature of your trouble with Tar Valon, if you don’t mind my asking?” Rand’s skin prickled as he realized what the man was suggesting. The One Power. “No, no, nothing like that. I swear. There was even an Aes Sedai helping us. Moiraine was. . . .” He bit his tongue, but the innkeeper’s expression never changed.

Gill is relieved, he means no offence, but better to be in with Aes Sedai than… the other thing.(6) He can offer them beds, not good ones, and a bit to eat. Thom's a good friend, he can help a friend of Thom's. Just don't go talking about working with Aes Sedai too loudly, and they probably shouldn't mention Thom, either. Some of the Guards have long memories, and so does the Queen.

Thom had trouble with the Queen? Rand is incredulous. Well, it's no secret, says Gill. Thom was the Courtbard at Caemlyn, and known in every royal court on the continent. Not long after Taringail Damodred died, the trouble with Thom's nephew arose. Thom was having an affair with Morgase,(7) a young widow, and Thom in his prime. But when he learned about his nephew, he took off without a word, and the Queen didn't like that, or him meddling in Aes Sedai affairs. When he came back, they had words, some words you don't say to anyone much less a queen. When Thom left Caemlyn last, he was a hair's breadth from prison, if not the headsman's axe.

“If it was a long time ago,” Rand said, “maybe nobody remembers.” Master Gill shook his head. “Gareth Bryne is Captain-General of the Queen’s Guards. He personally commanded the Guardsmen Morgase sent to bring Thom back in chains, and I misdoubt he’ll ever forget returning empty-handed to find Thom had already been back to the Palace and left again. And the Queen never forgets anything. You ever know a woman who did? My, but Morgase was in a taking. I’ll swear the whole city walked soft and whispered for a month. Plenty of other Guardsmen old enough to remember, too. No, best you keep Thom as close a secret as you keep that Aes Sedai of yours. Come, I’ll get you something to eat. You look as if your bellies are gnawing at your backbones.”

=====

(1) The symbol of the royal family of Andor, and thus presumably a sort of symbol banner for the capital city. (2) Bunt knows Holdwin's not to be trusted from his regular encounters with the man, it seems. He knows who to believe: his own judgement, which seems mighty fine to me. (3) Now, why would one wrap be cheaper than the other? (4) I seriously trimmed down the gawping Rand does at all the people, fights that break out that he's witness to, etc etc. There are NINE PAGES in my paperback before they enter the inn. Also, I had trouble phrasing it for the summary so I left it out, but Rand makes reference to Gill's being fat as a relief: the only bad experience he ever had was with a skinny innkeeper. So, now it's a meme throughout the fandom that you never trust a skinny innkeeper. (Along the same lines, I suppose, as a saying I grew up with: "never trust a skinny cook" because presumably they don't cook well enough to keep themselves fed.) (5) And Gill teaches us one of the most important lessons in fiction in general, but particularly in this series: never believe someone's dead until you see a body and you're P O S I T I V E that it's actually theirs and not some elaborate illusion or prank. I've really taken that one to heart in recent years. (6) I find it somewhat understandable that, given the rules of this world, Gill doesn't really want a male channeler possibly on the edge of madness and Breaking (like the world was Broken 3000 years ago) in his inn. Like, he wants to help friends of Thom's, but that's a fair line to draw, given the destructive power we've seen a man hold. Lews Therin did literally create a miles-high mountain from a flat plain in the opening. (7) And then some intrigue with Thom! He was definitely having an affair with Morgase at one point, it's not entirely clear if it started before or after her husband died, or when Thom arrived on the scene at all. [waggles eyebrows] Also, interesting that he was "in his prime" at the time, and I have to wonder what that means exactly with regard to age. Thom's age is one of the biggest mysteries in the series. Because of his white hair and the description of him as "grizzled" in his intro, a lot of people assume he's in his 60s or 70s and just still nimble for his age. There are clues that lend toward that sort of range, if you pay close attention. But, I tend to headcanon him much younger, and I was ever so glad the show agreed with me in their casting.

#wheel of time #wot #the wheel of time #twot #the eye of the world #eye of the world #eotw #teotw #wot white lion icon #rand al'thor #mat cauthon #almen bunt #basel gill

[olivereactsaboutgarbage]

One Piece Chapters 94-102

So... this is it... the One Piece post where my chapter numbers reach triple digits... four googol digits to go...

Chapter 94 - The Other Villain

The other villain? Is that like the other reindeer?

Anyway, Lufpy isn’t dead. The mouse cop says that since Arlong has now been defeated, it’s time for the Reign of the Mouse Cop, but Zoro says that’s annoying and everyone beats up the mouse cop.

Lufpy still wants a ship musician. I hope the musician is the most powerful character of all time. Even though I’m pretty sure One Piece has run out of protagonists-I-have-any-familiarity with, so if there were a super cool musician I think I’d know about it. Maybe in the final arc, they’ll finally find a musician and it’ll solve all their problems? That’d be great.

Oh, this is kind of like Homestuck. There’s a whole segment of Homestuck named after “speakercrab”. I guess it makes sense that the cops in this series would get Homestuck traits, to make it more obvious that they’re the bad guys.

Chapter 95 - Spin, Pinwheel

Everyone eats food. That’s good. You need to do that to survive.

Now that Nami has gotten a tattoo removal, she wants a cover-up tattoo. Maybe she... should have asked for that earlier...?

Meanwhile, Usopp has turned out to be the ship musician all along. Huh... he’s... “turned out”... to be that way...? Ha... that’s funny... it feels so strange... why do those words... feel so familiar?

On Nami’s way out, she leaves behind a lot of money for the community, but steals each individual community member’s money. All the money is for the community and none of it is for the individual? Is that like... enforced communism? That’s scary. Nami is going to turn her home village into Cheese World...

Remunerate shameful maggot Genzo likes babies. This is the big reveal about him that this arc has been building to.

...Huh...? “Remunerate shameful maggot”...? Why did I say that...? This is scary...

Chapter 96 - The Meanest Man in the East

Nami has a new character trait: Buying newspapers from a bird and reading them like she’s a nuclear family’s dad. Actually, come to think of it, Nami is kind of the dad of Lufpy’s crew, isn’t she? Which I guess makes Lufpy the mom. No wonder they’re the two best characters; they’re the ones that aren’t children.

Characters who aren’t children are always the best characters, that’s why I like Susie Deltarune better than Sans Undertale.

Hmm.

Wait.

Something doesn’t add up here.

Why did I say “remunerate shameful maggot”...?

Well, that aside, the navy thinks all Lufpy’s antagonists have been pretty Bad Dudes. Which makes Lufpy the Ultimate Bad Dude. So now they really want him dead. The mouse cop helped with that too!

The time when our heroes will enter the Grand Line is fast-approaching they PROMISE... but first they want to do a little tourism.

Woah... did the palindrome girl get promoted from Sweet Bro tier to John Egbert tier? What tier will happen next? I guess there’s that person from that VN who makes a chart detailing how the Five Genders are man, woman, nonbinary, clown and horse. I dunno I haven’t read it.

Anyway, best-case scenario for what this means: Lufpy is getting rid of Zoro and replacing him with someone else. Then later on Lufpy and Zoro meet again on the battlefield of jokes, once Zoro has mastered the world’s funniest joke offscreen. Like Lars from Steven Universe.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye is meeting with Lufpy’s favorite redhead. And being a little ableist about it, but that’s fine, because I think vampires should be allowed to do whatever they want. That’s why Usopp is allowed to be racist! Wait, is Usopp a vampire? But vampires steal people’s blood! I thought better of you, Usopp.

Chapter 97 - Kitetsu III

Have Nami’s legs... always been like that? I mean, I know about the “One Piece Woman Curse” or whatever, but I could have sworn her legs were completely unremarkable before. Well, whatever.

Meanwhile, at Zoro, where actually-relevant things are happening, Palindrome John Egbert is a complete nerd. I guess that’s why she wears glasses.

Indemnify embarrassing bug swords can be cursed.

...huh...? “Indemnify embarrassing bug”? Why did I say that?

Zoro throws a cursed sword at his own arm, but it’s okay. In fact, everything is so completely okay, Zoro gets multiple free swords.

Chapter 98 - Dark Clouds

Lufpy encounters his old foes, the uh... the woman who liked pink, and also her minion Nose [...]. Remember when there was a woman who liked pink? I guess maybe she was feeling left out because she didn’t really get to be an important antagonist. Except it’s not time for her to be an important antagonist. It’s time for Nose [...] to be an important antagonist... again!!

Meanwhile, there’s also a cop. He likes eating cigars and his pants like eating ice cream. I don’t know what his shirt likes eating because he’s not wearing it.

...PALINDROME JOHN EGBERT IS NAMED MASTER CHIEF??? LIKE FROM HALO???

Anyway, Lufpy is about to die.

Chapter 99 - Luffy Died

Hmm, remember last post when I said the chapter title “Die!!!” should have been saved for a chapter where Lufpy died? I still don’t know what a “Luffy” is, but for some reason, using this chapter title for a chapter where Lufpy dies feels... even more right.

Nami doesn’t care about Lufpy, she cares about the weather. How “Dad” of her... to uh, not facilitate the “Mom”’s survival. Well, you know what they say: “I hate my wife”

Zoro and Sanji are gonna try and prevent Lufpy’s death. How, um, childish of them, to not want to have a dead mom? I dunno. This metaphor is kinda wearing thin. I guess they already have a dead grandma because Nami has a dead mom. I don’t really want to talk about dead moms anymore. There are better tropes, like uh... pirates.

Lufpy ends up surviving arbitrarily, so Sanji asks if Zoro is religious. But Zoro converted to Atheism, remember?

Cops want Lufpy dead anyway.

Chapter 100 - The Legend Begins

Wait, what were the first 99 chapters, if not a legend?! This story is only JUST NOW a legend? That’s kooky!

Nose [...] and the pink-loving woman want to kill Lufpy, but the gluttony cop already called dibs, so he puts them in a net.

Finn the Human and Jake the Dog are back and ready to enact mischief, but using an egg, Usopp can negate that, which is great for Nami.

Palindrome John Egbert accosts Zoro, so Lufpy makes Sanji move on without him. It turns out Palindrome John Egbert wants to get killed by Zoro because of sexism reasons, so Zoro blows up at her for being too palindromic.

The gluttony cop uses his smoke powers to overpower Lufpy and Sanji, but a cloaked figure doesn’t seem to like gluttony, so it’s not that big of a deal. Also, Nose [...] and the pink-loving woman are no longer in a net.

Lufpy and his crew do that “team huddle” thing where they all put their hands in a circle, but they use their feet instead. Wow, Lufpy really does have a foot fetish!!

Anyway, it looks like everyone’s paths are gonna cross at the Grand Line soon. And then the story will be almost over. Epic

Chapter 101 - Reverse Mountain

Hmm... 101... pirates... hmm... Pirate101... you know who MY favorite Pirate101 character is? Lucky Jack Russell. People shouldn’t play MMOs for children though unless it’s ToonTown. And I think people should play ToonTown Corporate Clash instead of ToonTown Rewritten. And a Reverse Mountain is called a valley.

Lufpy is hanging upside-down from the ship’s slippery figurehead. Doesn’t he die if he falls out of the boat? Well, I guess that would be okay. His entire life from here on out is basically “bonus lifespan”, so he’s all good to die whenever he feels like it.

...oh, it’s not a valley, it’s just a mountain called Reverse.

Anyway, our plucky pirates are now in a place where there’s nothing wrong with the weather but there are one thousand creatures. They need to sail up the mountain, but they break their boat, so instead of sailing up it normally, Lufpy uses his inflation fetish to, well, hmmm... everything turns out okay in the end.

Chapter 102 And Now, the Grand Line

There’s a big whale like in the Bible, so Lufpy fires the ship’s cannon. I wonder how Zoro, as an Atheist, feels about this whale?

Well, Lufpy punches the whale in the eye, so his friends get Jonah’d, including Zoro. This must be so sad for Zoro. Zoro’s entire religious stance turned out to be wrong. ...Except it all turns out to be a big hoax. So much for religious people ever being right about anything.

...Huh... It all... turns out...? Does... it... turn out... a certain way? Why... why does it feel like...

Something’s terribly wrong... this is no good at all...

Someone...

Anyone...

Help...

#one piece #is what i'm consuming

[meyhew]

.

#u know... im not saying louis needs to be treated with special kid gloves bc he's a grown man #but i do wish at times ppl would cut him some slack. and praise him when he has genuinely earned it #like. do yall rmbr when we were getting walls reviews there was this one that harped on and on about how louis' music lacks emotionality #even when he has songs like tou and dlibyh and fearless and defenceless #and how the journalist said louis hasnt had enough 'real' issues in his life to write about #even though anyone who knows anything about him KNOWS he lost his mother and sister when he just recovering from the loss of the former #i dont need ppl to treat him like he's fragile but can they stop minimizing what he HAS overcome? #yeah maybe they dont the syco bullshit and yeah maybe they cant write about it blah blah and that contributes to his numbers #but his numbers arent BAD. theyre fine. and what happened yesterday is unprecedented as far as i know #so WHY are people still hellbent on making it seem like he’s hardly scraping by when hes doing more than fine #like hope said in her post.. its so fucking ugly when 'journalists' let their own ugly biases poison their work #like fuck u this isnt about your feelings this is about louis' accomplishments #which he has many many MANY of despite and in spite of every shitty thing life has thrown his way #i see too many other fans making fun of him for xyz even thought he's nothing but a gem to everyone #like its fine if his music isnt for u but what has HE done to YOU. theyre so insensitive bringing personal issues into petty insults i hate #but anyway ... beating a dead horse again when i should be reading

[books]

Tumblr Exclusive: Forestborn

Do you like shapeshifters, epic quests, magic, dark forests, and obstinate princes? Well, have we got an exclusive excerpt for you!

Forestborn is an upcoming @torteen novel by debut author Elayne Audrey Becker. Becker graduated from Vassar College with a BA in classics and history. She is currently continuing her education at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland after time spent as an editor with a New York publisher. She grew up with a lake and woods as her backyard, spending long days outside and visiting national parks with her family.

Forestborn will be available at bookstores everywhere from August 31. Read the exclusive excerpt below, and thanks again to Elayne for sharing her inspiration moodboard with us!

Forestborn By Elayne Audrey Becker

One

I find her deep in the Old Forest, facedown in the dirt. 

Sharp pain needles my palms where I’ve balled my fists so tight, the nails have carved half-moon marks into the skin. Snaking across the twig-strewn ground, gnarled roots press against my boots like a warning as I roll the young woman onto her back. Best to be sure.

No, she is certainly dead. Cold, stiff, and hungry like the rest; even with forest debris masking much of her shirt, the threadbare cotton dips in unmistakable rivulets across her bony frame. I swallow my disappointment and push her eyelids shut, wanting to spare her kin the sight of those empty, pointless eyes.

“Sorry,” I murmur, sitting back on my heels. “I’m guessing you didn’t deserve this.”

Around us, the trees lean inward and down with ominous uniformity, leaves and branches straining against their holds, drawn to the dead woman as if tethered by ropes. The sway, the humans call it. I ignore the prickling in my belly. They’ll straighten out soon enough when the magic leaves her body. 

With a final nod, I push to my feet and wend my way back to the forest’s edge. It’s a close wood, with broad oaks in summer bloom crowding the grassy floor, their leafy canopy admitting shafts of sunlight that glitter like crystal chandeliers. All in all, too peaceful a setting for someone driven to madness to die alone. I breathe it in deep to savor the scent while I can, grateful that for whatever reason, these trees never seem drawn to the magic in my own blood. I’ve had enough of vengeful wilderness to last a lifetime.

“Well?” Seraline asks, her knuckles nearly white where they clutch the hem of her shirt. 

I shake my head. “Dead.”

Her shoulders sink. Though Seraline is sturdy as iron when she’s in her aunt’s tannery, shaping leather into draft horses’ yokes, standing a determined two paces behind the tree line now, she seems shakeable as snow.

“Come on,” I say, nodding to the stony town just across the open fields. “You’re going to be late.” I don’t ask if she plans to examine the body for herself. Seraline may have insisted on coming as a show of support, but our friendship has many limits, her discomfort with the dead and dying the least of them. 

After a brief hesitation, Seraline falls into step at my side, sweeping her seeing stick across the ground in broad strokes. “Poor thing.”

I nod, my jaw clenched tight. 

This time of year, the late summer air hangs heavy even in the early morning, enough that the back of my neck is already slick with sweat. The barley fields remain mercifully empty as we pick our way through the dusty rows, but still I plow forward with my head down and shoulders bent, half from habit and half spurred by the hour. Seraline isn’t the only one who’s running behind. 

“Will you not come with us?” she asks, her head tipping to the side as we near the town. “Aren’t you due back in Roanin, anyway?”

“I can’t,” I reply, making it sound like an apology. I’m not really sure why we still play this game when we both know it’s futile. “I have a few things to take care of first.”

“Today of all days,” she snorts.

“You know how it is.” In truth, I’d give my right arm to stay away from the capital today. But there’s no help for it.

“Her husband deserves to know,” Seraline adds after a while. “The two of them were inseparable.”

“He will know. The trail wasn’t hard to follow.”

Seraline is always trying to persuade me to talk to the deceased’s families. She believes I have a softer manner than many in uniform, and once she even called me heartless for refusing. That time hurt the most. But it isn’t my job to report any deaths I uncover to next of kin. Only to the king. And it’s not like she’s stepping up to volunteer, anyway.

Briarwend is a humble farming town that stretches all of three streets, a collection of squared off stone shops that deal in necessity rather than charm. Its weather-worn residents are the same. When I began seeking intel here four years ago, long days tending the surrounding fields made the people lazy and open over a couple of pints. Lately, they’re just hungry, poor soil and rising taxes leaving gaping holes that only tempers seem to fill. 

Each night under dwindling lamplight and over stained, sticky tables, the pub dwellers deal out anger and judgment like tossing seeds across the earth. The battered forest walker I helped home last night is not the only magical person I’ve found bleeding on cobbled streets. The humans’ anger is growing fists.

Seraline’s family is fixing their horse’s harness to an old wooden cart when we reach their cottage home. Most others have long since departed.

“Where have you been?” her mother demands, tightening the leather straps. The roan mare stamps a hoof, ears flicking nervously in my presence. “We should have left hours ago!”

“Lela needed my help. And you’re not ready, anyway.” Seraline shrugs.

“Nor are you. Breakfast is gone, so you’ll just have to wait. Go get changed.” She studiously avoids my eye, as if I’m not even there. 

Seraline bids me farewell with a light touch on the shoulder, which causes her little sister to quickly interlace two pairs of twisted fingers and pull them apart. The sign to ward off bad fortune.  

“You shouldn’t indulge my sister,” the dreadful Arden says once she’s gone, stomping over and swiping a greasy hand across his forehead. By far the weakest sibling in this family of four. “Seraline is delicate. She can’t be tramping about the kingdom with the likes of you.”

Which is ironic, really, since he was eager enough to sidle close last year, when he thought empty flattery might earn him a kiss. That was before a too-often empty belly soured his tongue, before he learned who and what I was. And though I truly could not care less what this boy thinks, I’m dismayed to find my stomach still burns with anger and something close to shame. My gaze drops to his pant leg, which bears splotches of dried blood from the night before. 

“Problem?” Arden sneers, white skin burned red from long days in the sun. 

A slow tingling feeling bubbles up from my core, threads of numbness that tiptoe across my arms and legs. I force myself to breathe deeply, to beat the threads back. “I know it was you,” I mutter. 

He traces his chapped lips with two fingers, beady eyes darting to his mother before he leans forward, his smile stiffening. “You know nothing,” he hisses.

“You forget I have certain resources at my disposal.” I raise a hand in front of his flaking face, where my nails have sharpened into claws. “And that I know where you live.”

I stare until a satisfying trace of fear tinges Arden’s expression before stomping away toward the town’s single inn, which is little more than a guesthouse with four creaking rooms. If Helos were here, he would tell me to not take the bait, that I’m better than that. What he never seems to understand is that I’m not better than anything at all.

#forestborn #tumblr exclusive #books #booklr

[en-amours]

「 enha going “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad” — hcs 」

— 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: requested by 🍓 anon! frankly, i don’t think this falls into the headcanons category bc they’re all bulletpoint scenarios (which is why this is a bit longer than the other one i wrote) :’> anyways, hope y’all enjoy, and sorry this took a bit longer than intended, hehe <3

— 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: fluff, humor, angst in ni-ki’s part if you squint lol

♡ — taglist: @yoshinung @cyberhwng @stargirlstories @lovelycharm05 @honeyju

— 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1.9k

「 LEE HEESEUNG ! 」

listen, you love heeseung with all your heart. you would gladly give the world to him if he asked in a heartbeat; but if you have to sit through his aegyo one more time you will throw hands

it didn’t even agitate you the first time you saw his aegyo—in fact, you even found it endearing: you’d use it to clown him every time he’d ask for something

“oh? heedeungie wants a cookie, i hear?”

he does nothing bc he’s resigned himself to the fact that you and the boys would never live him down the moment he agreed to do it

but as he progressively got better and more comfortable practicing cute expressions, it became a “oh, how the turns have tabled” moment and he now uses it to clown you

he knows you hate it, too, so when he does aegyo he goes to the extreme—dignity be damned

so when you give him the blankest look the next time he pulls the cutesy card again, he laughs gently, puffing his cheeks out as he pokes his dimple

“hee,” you start, “do you plan on getting out of this relationship in one piece?”

but your boyfriend—being the absolute warrior he is—pays no heed to your tone and moves closer, your demise giving him all the joy he could possibly have. “why? i thought you loved heedeungie?”

not anymore, you don’t

before you can retort, heeseung grins at your expression. “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad~”

when you go quiet he considers stopping the whole façade

then he feels your lips on his

haha, heartbeat go brrrrrrrr

mans is so 👏 damn 👏 flustered 👏 when you put your hand against his cheek

you pull away once you can feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips; he’s rosy and breathless and he nearly loses his mind once he realizes you’re grinning

“so that’s what it takes to get you to stop… maybe you should do aegyo more often.”

——————

「 JAY PARK ! 」

“oh, gODDAMMIT QUIT IT WITH THE TURTLE SHELLS, JAY.”

“WHY DON’T YOU MAKE ME??”

this is what the rest of the members have to deal with every time jay has the nerve to ask you to play video games with him you’re both the reason why jungwon bought everyone a pair of earplugs each

your level of competitiveness skyrockets whenever it’s a duel (or even games where you’re both on the same team—it’s just a trial of who can outdo the other)

god forbid anyone who suggests card games on a sleepover (looking at you, jake; ni-ki still hasn’t forgiven him for suggesting uno when he was situated right between you and jay) because they’re in for a long time of ✨ suffering ✨

it’s an instinct for everyone to put one foot out the door when you and jay settle in front of the television

this match in mario kart, however, went a little ,,, differently

“i will crush you, jongseong,” you seethe, eyes blazing because it’s your third rematch and the tiebreaker and you don’t know what you’ll do if you end up losing.

“that’s what you said the last two games,” he scoffs, leaning forward in immense concentration.

“your yoshi character can suck it.”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

dude’s about to jump in ecstasy once he’s a few seconds away from the finish line at the third lap, but oh ho ho jay.gif has left the building once you kiss him on the cheek

literally freezes in shock for a solid ten seconds

in the span of which you took your chance to zoom past his avatar, thus winning the tiebreaker

looks at you, then at the screen, back to you again, then—

“WAIT THAT IS C H E A T I NG THAT DOESN’T COUNT WAIT WHAT—”

(he’s highkey vv flustered though; if you just got off your high horse and looked at him you’d have noticed how red he got)

——————

「 JAKE SHIM ! 」

ever since you told jake that you also weren’t able to attend your formal in the past, he’s been dead-set on asking you to a slow dance

you’d told him about it during your one of your many heart-to-heart talks, convos about fading memories from elementary and the anxiety-riddled nights in highschool, until it dwindled down to that

“i’m cool with it—formal is just an excuse to drain half of your college tuition for one night, anyway,” you’d said, but jake didn’t miss the way your eyes went softer in a haze of memories of what could’ve

so now you’re staring up at him, with his hand extended out to you, moon river playing in the background and jake’s smile has never been brighter

“you’re unbelievable,” you state.

“but you’re smiling anyway,” jake shrugs as he pulls you up, he places your hands on his shoulders gingerly, his own pair travelling down to hold your waist.

the next two minutes are spent in immeasurable laughter and half-hearted insults (“y/n, you’re a terrible dancer.” “says the dude who keeps on stepping on my toes every ten seconds, can you not—”); nevermind that there aren’t any cheap party lights blinding you, or your present classmates aren’t there to croon over who you were dancing with—in this tiny living room, all you can focus on is how it feels so right to have jake in your arms, and how this might be better than any formal you’d have attended.

your incredulous mask wears away, and jake dips his head to check with a grin. “aw, is my baby getting sentimental?”

you scoff, suppressing a smile. “mate, you’re the one who cries over layla at least five times a day. i hate you.”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad,” he taunts, relishing the way you laugh in response. you do kiss him, on the nose, softly, before resting your head on his shoulder, holding him closer.

“shim jaeyun, you are one of the most cliché people i know,” you pull away to look at him, at his eyes twinkling softly beneath the light, and you smile. “but thank you for this. truly.”

jake laughs softly, presses a kiss to your forehead. “i wouldn’t have formal any other way than this.”

——————

「 PARK SUNGHOON ! 」

so,, uh,,, i may have gotten a tad bit too carried away with sunghoon’s so i wrote a separate drabble for him,,,, hehe

it’s called “loser (affectionately)” and you can find it right here!

did i base the title off the “twitter: hellsite (derogatory)” meme here on tumblr? yes. yes, i did.

do i also think the drabble’s way too fucking cheesy? also yes.

but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless </3

——————

「 KIM SUNOO ! 」

here’s another one that turned into a full-fledged drabble because i have no self-control </3

it’s titled “maybe the night” and you can find it right here!

i got soft listening to ben&ben again 😔 their music is so damn good hhhhhh

highly recommend them !!

(also while writing this i realized i have a soft spot for our ddeonu i love him sobs)

——————

「 YANG JUNGWON ! 」

you hated yang jungwon.

well, no, that’s a lie—let me rephrase that again: you hated yang jungwon for having absolutely no mercy on your wallet

as if you weren’t worn out from the sparring match in taekwondo earlier, your best friend had to go and put the weight of his pride on your shoulders; ambling around with a stance that says, i’m the best and this abnormally overpriced chocolate milk carton acquired from y/n’s demise is solid proof.

(you’re grateful for your friendship, but this is one of the times when you regret ever making the bet with him)

the blushing clouds mark the end of another day, and you sigh, pocketing your (very few) change grumpily. “i’m going to go blind if you keep on smiling like that, yang—tone the brightness down a notch.”

jungwon: no ❤️

you try and reason with him that it was because you had too many shit you had to deal with prior to the match, but the dimpled teen wouldn’t hear any of it (knowing that all of it is bluff, you’re a terrible liar)

“you know that was a one time thing, right?” you say, and jungwon mocks you la-la-la-you-lost and he skips across street like a kid does after school, “i’m gonna beat you next time—”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

he pokes your cheek and retracts quickly when you try to bite him. you glare at him, but the sun hits the side of your face so you end up squinting at him instead.

then he LAUGHS

(u know,,, the one where his eyes turn into crescent moons and his lil dimple shows? yea, that one)

and you’re just standing there like 🤠

you sigh, partially because you’ve seen him do this one too many times, and because you always fall victim to his charm, so you ruffle his hair and trudge on with the air of a fallen soldier

(dw jungwon holds your hand on the way home and gives you a piece of candy bc he loves you, too)

((you’re still beating his ass next time, though,,,))

——————

「 NI-KI ! 」

ni-ki wants to slam his head against a wall (≡^∇^≡)

(as, per usual, how every highschooler feels as they near the end of another laborious school day)

((but even more so in his case bc who the fuck blurts out “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad” when they’re going against their crush in a debate when they can’t think of a effective counterargument?? ni-ki, apparently))

he didn’t even mean to say it; he was so caught up in the heat of the moment that all heed for whatever slipped through his teeth disappeared, and now the whole class is staring at him open-mouthed in equal parts shock and excitement.

but the worst thing is that you’re staring at him, too—with wide eyes and an expression he can’t read

“n-no, i didn’t mean— i— you…” ni-ki’s hands fly up wildly, his limited braincells trying to think of a way to weasel out of the situation (which is impossible now, it seems). “i’m…”

the teacher observing from the side, who’s been aware of ni-ki’s crush for some time: ᕕ[ ・ ▾ ・ ]ᕗ

heat flares in his cheeks and he looks down cursing you because screw you for being so beautiful and smart why did i have to like you i Hate this

…apparently he’s said that out loud too bc his classmates are losing their shit & he promptly wants to ✨ evaporate ✨

everyone is just “??!!” because they’ve been led to believe that y’all hated each other and now this???

“you… like me?” you squeak, ni-ki can’t bear to look at you and he feels remorse peeking in his chest like an old friend; he waits for rejection, or an insult, at the very least, but when he is met with silence he looks up to see that you’re just as frazzled as he is, and his heart leaps. “like… really like me?”

the answer hangs on his tongue, but the bell intervenes, and everyone collectively jumps. ni-ki is the first to dip. he returns to his seat, grabs his bag in one swift motion; the teacher stutters out the usual end-of-class statement out of habit, and with that the blond ambles out of the room with a bitter look, finishing what his sensei was supposed to say: point to y/n.

but if loverboy looked back at that moment, he might’ve seen you trying to fight back a smile, butterflies roaming your stomach; because you no longer have to pick at daisies, wondering he hates me, he hates me not.

#enhypennetwork #enhypenwriters #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles #lee heeseung #jay park #jake shim #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #ni-ki #this is a mess i know i’m sorry strawberry anon :’>

[emisonme]

do you think this pr favored camila in something? would she agree to get back in a relationship with shoni again?

I don't think she would have agreed to do it, if she didn't think it would benefit her in some way. We might just have to wait, before we can actually understand what that benefit was.

God, I hope not!!! But, with all the shit I read about it all tonight, I'm starting to see a possible narrative. He was supposed to be all heartbroken about the "break-up". The problem is, someone on his team screwed up, and said that HE is the one that initiated it. But, in his damn song, SHE is the one that wanted to leave. OOPS!!!

There are so many damn holes in all the different narratives they have going, it's ridiculous. She was supposedly pissed that he was off working leaving her to spill lonely tears in his damn wine. In reality, what the fuck was she doing, that was so pressing, she couldn't just go with him? She could have done her remote interviews for DGY, from anywhere with a wireless connection. The only time she had to be at a certain place last year, was the press junket and the premiers of Cinderella. The few shows she did, other than The Tiny Desk, he was there, too.

Hell, she even went on a family vacation without him, while he was in Spain filming the video for SOL. She could have went to Spain with him. She chose to be with her family...Better yet, her family could have went to the DR on that vacation. We don't really know where she was. That could be when those recent pics were taken. We have no idea. Why? Because when she doesn't want to be found, she can easily stay hidden.

Shit, their explanation for that damn dog walk, doesn't even make sense. In the articles, they say that they hadn't been around each other, or really talked, since the split. Yet, somehow he knew she was heading to Miami before she took off on vacation to the DR. So, he planned it, to where he could be in Miami to see her, before she left, so they could "talk". How the hell did he know where she was going to be, and when, if they weren't in communication.....Unless he was asking around and basically STALKING her. See, doesn't make sense.

Even that stupid shit that came out, about Montana, sounded like a bunch of poorly made up bullshit. Why the hell would she leave her nice cozy quiet cabin, to go to some loud ass public restaurant to read her friends poetry, and send racy photos to her damn "ex". It doesn't make sense, does it?!!

Anyways, the possible narrative I can see coming: He didn't realize what he had, until it was gone. He went to her, and tried to "fix it". I mean, how many chances is she going to give the guy? She already supposedly said, she felt it once, she can't feel it twice...but she supposedly gave him another chance. But, it just wasn't meant to be. After , yet another two years, they couldn't make it work.

Maybe her next song should say, "I felt it twice, I can't feel it thrice, it's more than I can take, Baby, it' hurts me to tell you I don't feel the same...So fuck this love, and move the fuck on, cause I'm letting it go, it's as good as gone!!!"

Then he can really be heartbroken. He has supposedly already told everyone that would listen, that he'll never find another woman like her. With that, he now has a reason to continue writing every song he's ever written, about her. The one that got away. Boo-hoo!!!

No, he'll never" find her again", because he never had her in the first damn place. That being said, unfortunately, they both have more music coming, so I'm sure they'll find a way to continue beating this dead horse, for all it's worth. Just ignore the bullshit.

[eggtoasties]

Pairing: Eventual Osamu x Reader

Rating: E for fucking Samu in the car :-)

Word Count: 4.4k of Miya twin shenanigans, fluff, then eventual smut

Summary: A hopeful love and a blossomed love; years of wishing on candles and they’re both content.

a/n: @powderblew​ ur the hopeful love my beloved

Contrary to popular belief, Miya Atsumu does not speed. Yes, he nearly loses his mind on the interstate every other day but his road rage is completely contained to cursing in the confines of his car. Most people think Atsumu’s the reckless driver with his loud personality and penchant for pulling off risky moves on the court, but surprisingly, it’s his counterpart who fully believes that the actual speed limit is at least ten above the posted signage and weaves through lanes with one hand on the wheel and the other on her thigh.

Atsumu got Osamu the car as a birthday gift—black, sleek, and quiet. He had been dropping hints for weeks but Osamu had brushed them off, figuring his brother was spewing incoherent nonsense.

It was the weekend before their birthday. They decided to take a trip to the mountains—it was rare at this point in their young adult lives to have the free time to spend with each other. Osamu was busy with the shop: serving customers, preparing food, and trying new dishes. Getting Onigiri Miya off the ground was a seven day work week with early mornings and late nights. Atsumu on the other hand, had regularly scheduled practices and travel matches with the team. Although his schedule was incredibly hectic, there was a sort of rhythmic regularity to it.

So, for the first weekend in a long time where it would be just them, Atsumu wanted it to be special. Afterall, it was their birthday. Atsumu was the one who drove them to the campsite, taking in the scenery with appreciation, going slowly on the winding roads while mindlessly tapping a beat on the steering wheel. As they got closer and closer to their destination, Osamu could tell his brother was antsy.

His eyes would flicker from the road, to Osamu, then back again. His mindless tapping to the music turned into an incessant drilling and he kept readjusting his legs and changing his hand position on the wheel, fidgeting in his seat.

“Wouldya’ quit that, yer gonna crash the fuckin’ car,” Osamu said, exaggeratingly clutching to the grab handle at the top of his window.

“Yer really gonna yell at me on ma’ birthday that’s jus’ like ya’ Samu—”

“It’s ma’ birthday too ya’ idiot!”

The sound of his brother’s bickering quelled Atsumu’s nerves and he settled in the driver’s seat, humming along to the song playing on the speakers. In response, Osamu turned up the volume, but Atsumu just grinned.  

“You will arrive at your destination in .2 miles,” the smooth voice of the GPS chimed.

Atsumu began fidgeting again and Osamu swore he was gonna punch him the moment they made it out of the death trap.

They pulled into the winding driveway and Osamu banged his head against the dashboard.

“Please tell me ya’ didn’t screw up the reservation,” he said quietly.

“What kinda idiot, do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined. Although Osamu couldn’t see with his forehead pressed against the polished wood interior, Atsumu was smiling.

“Then why is there another car parked in our spot?” Osamu deadpanned, turning his head to his brother, still pressed into the dash.

“Look again an’ eat yer words ya’ scrub.”

Driving slowly forward towards the car and parking next to it, Osamu realized that a bright red bow was tied to the hood. He stilled in his seat and stared dumbly out his window, slowly turning towards his brother.

“Do ya’ like it, Samu?” Atsumu nearly whispered, leaning in close to his brother, eyes wide, committing every micro reaction to memory.

Osamu blinked once. Twice. Then turned back to the car.

“Yeah, Tsumu,” he said shakily, “I really do.”

Against the burning in his throat and the tightening of his eyes, Osamu willed himself to remain composed when he heard rustling. Atsumu took out a crumpled and worn piece of notebook paper, its edges frayed and torn and began to smooth it out in his palms.

He cleared his throat and stared at the empty space across Osamu’s shoulder.

“So, uh…” he began, uncharacteristically shy and Osamu sent a prayer that this wasn’t a speech about how Tsumu had somehow accidentally razed Onigiri Miya to the ground in the short period that he wasn’t there and this was all an elaborate apology.

“I know that this year’s been tough with Onigiri Miya jus’ startin’ out an’ everythin’ but I jus’ wanted to say,” Atsumu trailed off and scratched his ear before suddenly, startling Osamu, squaring his shoulders and directing a piercing stare into his brother’s eyes. “I’m so proud of you Samu!” he nearly yelled, face flushed with embarrassment.

Osamu felt the heat prickle against his neck and all he could do was blink owlishly at his twin.

“What on Earth are ya’ goin’ on about?” he questioned incredulously.

“Okay, okay, wait I wrote it all down,” Atsumu said quickly, smoothing the worn paper once again. He cleared his throat a few times before reading.

“Osamu—”

“Oh my god is this a proposal, why is this so formal?” Osamu asked out loud.

“God, shut yer big ol’ trap wouldya I am tryin’ here,” Atsumu bit back to the amusement of his twin. “Anyways,” he grumbled. “Samu. I’ve been thinkin’ for a while and I jus’ wanted to say thank ya’ for always bein’ there for me.”

Osamu did not often feel stupid. Well, that’s a lie, he thought. It’s been a year since Onigiri Miya’s opening and he was only just beginning to feel as if he was able to call his job stable and that he had a solid understanding of how things should be ran. However, it was not often that his brother made him feel stupid, but here he was, at a loss for words at this uncharacteristic show of appreciation.

Yes, high fives and hugs had always come easily after a particularly clean hit or a perfectly executed pass, but they never sat down like this and talked about how much they appreciated each other. Osamu figured it was unsaid in the little things—how the clothes Atsumu stole in high school always ended back clean in Osamu’s closet, how Osamu usually ended up making two bentos when they still lived together, or how Atsumu had always tried to include Osamu in team bonding even when Osamu was in college.

“I think,” Atsumu said, breaking Osamu out of his thoughts. “That you were what made me work so hard at volleyball. Not because you were the only one that could challenge me,” Osamu scoffed at this. “But because you were the only one I cared to play with for a long time.”

Tears pricked at his eyes and Osamu nodded at his brother to continue.

“An’ thinkin’ back, yer probably the only reason why ma’ teammates didn’t excommunicate me like they did to Tobio-kun,” Atsumu joked and Osamu cracked a smile despite the burning of his throat.

“An’ I know we’ve talked about this before, but I am still really sorry when I went off on ya’ when ya’ told me you were quittin’ volleyball. I don’t mean to beat a dead horse or anything—”

“You sound like Baa-chan,” Samu choked out, still trying to hold back tears, hands balled into fists on his lap.

Undeterred, Atsumu continued to read. “But the fact that fer the first time, ya’ wouldn’t be by my side on the court was jus’ never a possibility I’d considered. So ‘m sorry ‘bout the fuss I made even though I know that’s all old news.” He paused and nodded at Osamu, noting his fists and drew in a shaky breath.

“’Samu, I jus’ want to let ya’ know that I am so endlessly proud to be yer brother and all the work ya’ put in in college and startin’ Miya Onigiri honestly scared me a little,” he said chuckling. “The way you really focus in on somethin’ when yer concentrating was always so intense, but I’d only really seen it with volleyball. But ever since you went to college, and especially with this past year, I can’t believe I fought you to go pro with me because I’d never seen ya’ more fired up or intense than ya’ have been this past year.”

The sides of Atsumu’s paper begin to tear with the force of his grip, and both twins are mirror images of each other. Red in the face, hands in fists, and willing the other to cry first.

“Basically,” Atsumu drawled on, hands slightly shaking, “thank ya’ for bein’ the best brother and teammate I coulda’ ever asked for and I’m so, so, proud to be the brother of the founder of Onigiri Miya.” He lowered the paper from his line of vision and accidentally crumbled it with his hand as he blurt out, “And I love you!” turning even redder in embarrassment. “Even though ya’ never respond to my texts and make fun a’ me when I bring my teammates ‘round,” he quickly added in.

Osamu undid his seatbelt and forcefully opened his door. He heard Atsumu’s confused “huh” and watched as he fumbled with his seatbelt through the windshield as he crossed to the other side. Atsumu stumbled out of the driver’s seat and Osamu captured him in a bone crushing hug. One hand wrapped around his back and the other held Atsumu’s head as he cried into his neck.

He thought back to the first semester of culinary school when he questioned himself every single day if it was the right choice to have made. Learning and practicing different techniques that felt foreign was a hurdle that had seemed impossible at the time. Then, when he graduated and he figured he knew almost everything there was to know about the food industry after hours and hours of lab, internships, and class and began preparations for opening Miya Onigiri, he realized once again that he knew nothing. Even a year after founding Miya Onigiri and he still found himself doubting his success.

But, hearing his idiot brother tell him he was proud—was all he needed. Because Miya Osamu also pushed himself to the upper limits of his physical and mental abilities because his brother was the only one he wanted to compete with. It didn’t matter who else might try and challenge them, at the end of their finish lines, the only person they wanted to see was each other.

The autumnal air was incredibly crisp and although the forest surrounding their luxury cabin was teeming with life, time around them seemed to still as they both cried.

“This is too much, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu sniffled out. “My gift ta’ ya’ was literally like, two hundred dollars.”

“It’s okay,” sniffled Atsumu. He paused. “What’d ya’ get me?”

Osamu pulled away and wiped his face with the bottom hem of his sweater.

“I got ya’ a signed copy of that book you were yappin’ on about with yer favorite author and I got her to make a video for ya’ sayin’ happy birthday and all that—”

“Oh my god,” Atsumu said excitedly, “Yer tellin’ me ya’ got Sonia Barnes to write me a handwritten message and a private video!?”

Osamu grimaced at the snot Atsumu had dripping down his chin. “First of all don’t say it like that, an’ second of all, wipe yer nose or somethin’ ya’ scrub.”

Completley ignoring his brother’s complaints, Atsumu lunged at Osamu, begging him to show him the video. Osamu tapped at his phone, opened up the email attachment, and watched the myriad expressions of surprise, admiration, love, and happiness flicker across Atsumu’s face during a 20 second video while red eyed and swollen. He mused that this was possibly the best birthday they ever had.

.

“Let’s take this baby on a test drive,” Osamu said, eagerly waiting by the door as Atsumu watched his birthday video for the umpteenth time.

That Sonia Barnes was a very pretty lady, Osamu reasoned, but if he had to hear her chirp, “Happy Birthday Tsumu!” one more time, she was going to be the cause of fratricide.

.

Settling into the leather seat, Osamu pressed the start button and nearly cooed at the soft rumble of the engine.

Throwing himself into the passenger’s seat Atsumu said, “Let’s figure out how ta’ connect to Bluetooth so I can hear ma’ angel on speaker,” fiddling with the touch screen.

Osamu grabbed Atsumu’s phone and threw it in the backseat and put the car in drive just as Atsumu started to clamber in the back for it. He peeled down the driveway as Atsumu screamed and picked up speed down the secluded road as Atsumu managed to get back in his seat and secure the seat belt.

The pretty autumn foliage was a blur of orange and reds and Osamu breathed in the smell of new leather and wood polish.

“S-slow down!” Atsumu yelled, quickly activating the lock function on the seatbelt and gripping the grab handle with both hands. “I-is this b-because I told the whole team you’d giv’ em’ free food if they said they were my teammate,” he screamed, “I’ll tell ‘em nevermind!”

Osamu rolled down the windows and the sun roof and laughed as the wind ran through his hair while his brother cried for the second time that day.

.

A year later and Osamu’s still in the driver’s seat of his car, but this time, she’s in the passenger’s seat. They have all the windows down and he’s speeding along the coast of Hyogo, sea breeze whipping through their hair and the sound of waves breaking in the distance.

She had planned a full day for his birthday: brunch at their favorite restaurant, a walk through the shopping district, and a homemade dinner with a fruit tart from his favorite bakery. Now that he had two years of experience running Onigiri Miya, he could afford to step away from the shop every so often. Unfortunately, his counterpart was on the other side of the world for a match, but they managed to squeeze in a short videocall despite the time difference.

“’Samu!” Atsumu screamed from the other line, “Happy Birthday!”

Wincing, Osamu turned the volume of his phone down as she giggled and wished his brother a Happy Birthday.

“What’d ya’ plan for Samu’s birthday,” Atsumu asked her, “good luck beatin’ ma’ gift from last year—”

“Tsumu!” Osamu berated.

“Unfortunately, my research job doesn’t pay as much as being a pro-volleyballer,” she rolled her eyes, “but I do have some fun things lined up,” she said, smiling softly at Osamu to which Atsumu gagged.

“Ya’ scrub, just ‘cause yer jealous—”

“Tsumu!” she interrupted, “did you get our gift? We were a little nervous about the international shipping but your hotel said they got it so—”

“Yes!” Atsumu exclaimed, screen blurry as he shuffled around his hotel room. He set his phone down and propped it up, showing them the neatly packaged box. “I can’t believe ya’ got me another signed copy of Sonia Barnes’s book—I couldn’t even get this one off preorder, it was so popular—”

“Did ya’ open the envelope yet?” Osamu asked impatiently.

“Of course I did! I always open the letter before the present, what do ya’ take me for, Samu?” Atsumu whined, but the duo noticed how Atusmu’s hands were off screen and they could hear quiet tearing noises in between pauses.

Rolling their eyes, they patiently waited for Atsumu to unsubtly open their envelope. They watched as Atsumu quickly scanned the contents of the letter and Osamu hit screen record as his brother’s mouth dropped open.

“T-tickets to a live reading and meet and greet?” Atsumu whispered to himself. He pulled the letter closer to his face and read it over and over again before gingerly setting the cardstock down and gently looking into the envelope to produce two ticket stubs. Carefully placing the tickets back into the envelope, Osamu failed to cover his snickers as Atsumu’s lower lip trembled.

“I know it’s no car,” she said, “but I do happen to know people who know people, so I hope you like your gift, ‘Tsumu” she said kindly.

Atsumu suddenly held the phone close to his face and Osamu could see his brother’s ears turn pink.

“Yer the best sister in law I coulda’ ever asked for, I don’t know why yer with that good fer nothin’ scrub—yer not married yet, so ya’ still have time to run away, but ‘Samu, ya’ better not mess it up,” he rambled, roughly wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

Osamu scoffed and she placed a placating hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe I get ta’ meet ma’ angel,” Atsumu mumbled to himself in disbelief, pacing in his hotel room, running his hands through his hair. “Angel, angel, angel—I gotta bring ma’ copy of her books with ma’ notes! I have so many questions for her, like how she came up with the storyline—didya know she went to school in New York City? Isn’t that the coolest? And she made a video for me for ma’ birthday last year,” he broke his monologue to gasp. “Do ya’ think she’ll remember me—”

Osamu put him on mute and groaned.

“Maybe we shoulda jus’ gotten him those fancy mugs,” he complained, leaning heavily into her side.

She rubbed the sides of his neck as she watched with amusement as Atsumu continued his ramblings, completely unaware that she and Osamu were having a side conversation.

“But look how happy he is, Samu,” she crooned, giggling as Osamu pinched his nose bridge. But she knew that Osamu was the one who spent hours scouring the web for those tickets and sent several emails to Sonia Barnes’s manager for a signed copy.

Watching his brother run his mouth with no regard to himself or his girlfriend, Osamu clicked the unmute button and nearly yelled, “We get it ya’ scrub, we get it!”

“Let me be happy why dontcha!” Atsumu retorted.

“Alright well I’m gonna spend ma’ birthday with ma’ real girlfriend,” Osamu taunted, finger hovering over the ‘end call’ button.

“Once Sonia meets me she’s gonna fall in love, just ya’ wait!”

She yelled one last, “Happy Birthday!” before Osamu disconnected the call and tackled her into the bed.

.

For the end of his birthday, Osamu requested a car ride. It was just past sunset; the sky’s vibrant pinks and oranges faded into a cool indigo and the stars were extra bright in the rural area they were driving through.

They rode in comfortable silence, listening to seagulls call their good nights and the wind beating against the car. The supple leather of the seat underneath her contrasted with the rough pads of Osamu’s fingertips on her thigh and she stared out at the horizon, perpetually in awe of the beauty of the coast line. Here, twinkling city lights were hardly discernible specks in the distance and the only tall structures were the trees dotting the cliffside.

They rose higher in altitude until they were surrounded by lush forest—rustling underbush and singing cicadas took over the sound crashing waves. He pulled into a secluded nook that overlooked a cliff and she couldn’t believe they were only a forty minute drive from the main city.

He killed the engine and unbuckled her seat belt while she was still leaning forward, face close to the windshield, taking in the scenery.

“I’m feelin’ a bit neglected over here,” Osamu said, soft grin taking over his face as he watched her, lips parted and eyes wide.

“Sorry Samu,” she said, still looking out the glass, “it’s just so incredible here.”

“I told ya’ I knew a spot,” he teased and she intertwined her hand with his.

He pulled her arm towards him as leaned over the middle console so his lips caught her neck when she lurched towards him. Her surprised chuckle turned into a content hum, fluttering her eyes closed as he kissed the pulse point of her throat, her exposed shoulder, then where her neck met her clavicle. From there, he dragged his lips slowly to her ear and grinned when he felt her clutch at his sweater.

Nipping her ear and tracing the shell with his tongue, rough palms kneaded her thighs and his fingers played with the hem of her skirt. He let out a heavy breath when she brushed against his tightening pants and he smirked when she involuntarily shivered.

“Do ya’ like this?” he asked, mouth kissing down the expanse of her chest, pulling the hem of her shirt low.

She arched her back into him and guided his hand under her shirt and he grinned when she impatiently unhooked her bra and took it and her shirt off in one swift motion.

“Does that answer your question?”

Eyes half lidded, lips slick with spit and plump from his repeated ministrations, she had one leg folded under her and the other anchored to the floor. Fully facing him, she cocked her head to the side and dragged her eyes down his body, lingering for a moment before directing her heavy gaze at him. She leaned back against the door as he leaned forward on the middle console and she ran a hand slowly from her knee, teasing a peek under her skirt, tracing a finger around her navel, then making her way upwards, rolling a nipple with two fingers while slowly rocking her hips.

Osamu’s lips parted and his eyes flickered from her hands to her face as she brought her other hand to rub at the cotton beneath her legs. Gaze hungry, he licked his lips and rolled his neck, languidly leaning back against his door, mirroring her.

“Gonna give me a birthday show?” He rasped, slowly unbuttoning his pants and palming his length through his boxers.

Skirt bunched at the waist giving him an unhindered view of the growing wet stain between her legs and Osamu felt himself tighten at the sight. He wanted to press his nose against the ruined fabric and lap at her through her pink panties, he wanted to curl a finger in her and listen to her keel for him, he wanted to—

“Take your shirt off,” she demanded.

“I thought it was ma’ birthday,” he chuckled but does as she asks, pulling the fabric from the back of his neck. He tossed the garment to the backseat and lazily looked back at her.

The tops of her cheeks are flushed and her breasts shake with each pant. She’s worked two slender fingers from the side of her underwear and Osamu watches with rapt attention as her pretty folds are presented to him.

“Touch yourself, Samu.”

“Again with the demands,” he complained but freed himself from the confines of his boxers and matches the pace she’s set on herself.

“Fuck,” she whined, moving faster. The hand teasing her nipples moved south to pinch at her clit and Osamu couldn’t wait anymore.

He nearly launched himself to her, abdomen uncomfortably resting on top of the center console and she seemed all too satisfied with the result. He buried his face between her legs and groaned with her as he sucked and lapped at her overstimulated bundle of nerves through soaked cotton.

“Itadakimasu,” he growled and she rolled her eyes at the line.

Long languid licks interspersed with quick flicks of his tongue, he took her right to the edge of her orgasm. Her thighs clenched around his head while her nails dragged through his gray hair and she rocked her hips against his mouth. Toe curling heat had her buck helplessly against his tongue, rough hands gripping her in place as she reached her peak, but at the last second, he pulled away.

Her gasp was lost with the loud bang his head made as it slammed against the car ceiling and he let out a string of curses as he tried to fit in the passenger’s seat with her. She half stands, leaning back on the glove department as he sat down and she couldn’t help but giggle when he cursed at how slowly the seat was reclining back.

But just as quick, he grabbed her by the hands and has her straddle him. The seat is narrow but neither of them mind as he slowly entered her. She gripped at the back of his head as he teased a nipple and sucked constellations across her chest while her other hand gripped the grab handle, giving her more leverage.

Osamu slowly rocked into her and he captured her moans in a kiss. He gave her a second to adjust to his length before slamming into her, head falling back into the headrest as he watched her bounce above him.

Beautiful, was all he could think. Hair wild around her shoulders, a glistening sheen of perspiration across her forehead and chest, and the incredible sound of her slick around him. He was in heaven.

He slid his thumb between her parted lips and she immediately began to suck. She bobbed her head back and forth while giving kitten licks at the tip and nipping the underside of his thumb.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he pressed his finger further back in her throat and watched as her eyes rolled back and she rocked her hips even faster against his.

Removing his thumb and making a show of putting it in his mouth, he pressed the wet digit against her clit and grinned as her moans became louder.

The sweet call of his name as she begged him to make her finish led him to snap his hips up, rubbing against the spongy bit of her inner walls and he held her close to his chest as they came undone together.

Breathing heavily, he rested his forehead on her shoulder and watched as a rivulet of sweat ran down the valley of her breasts and he shifted his hips forward, just now noticing the dull ache in his thighs. She shuddered against him and he kissed her shoulder, her cheek, then her other cheek.

“We really have to thank Tsumu for the car,” she said, chuckling.

“Yeah?” he questioned, running his blunt nails across her back, “should we tell him what we used it for?”

She scrunched her nose and Osamu’s heart clenched too. Wrapping her arms around his neck, soaking in the warmth of his warm body, her lips ghosted the side of his cheek and he shuddered at the tingles running down his back with the contact.

“Happy Birthday, ‘Samu,” she whispered sweetly.

Rocking into her again just to hear her breath tick, he nestled his head into her neck and smiled.

#osamu x reader #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu fluff #osamu smut #hq x reader #hq x you #hq x y/n #osamu scenarios #osamu fic #atsumu fanfic #atsumu fluff #miya twins #atsumu x oc #hq smut #haikyuu smut #deviled.egg #miya osamu #hq osamu

[carlyraejcpsen]

alright, i’ve tried to keep quiet because i truly believe in karma and wanted this rp to close through the admin’s own actions and not give them any opportunities to blame it on me instead. it also felt like beating a dead horse, because i was sure they’d close the rp after losing a huge proportion of their active members and the majority of their diversity. however, after seeing multiple people sharing their experiences today, they are still posting promo posts and starting their event. so yeah, here’s my experience with @thevillagerp​​

NOTE: i no longer have screenshots from my conversations with the admins, as i blocked them when i left the rp for the sake of my own mental health, but i did save the text in my drafts, so the messages below are copy pasted. i have not edited them in any way. They also deleted my original anonymous messages off of their blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: racism, very vague allusions to homophobia and transphobia

so i was a member of this roleplay for around two months. during my time there, it was startlingly obvious that white fcs were preferred and prioritised, both from the fact that they got more plots and interactions in general and from the fact that admins never promoted diversity on the main. even now, they repeatedly say they “would still love to receive some more male and non-binary apps” while ignoring that they currently have a ratio of 8 fcs of colour to 24 white fcs. their diversity rules at the time were that 1/3 of a mun’s characters had to be played by an fcoc. so people could easily just play one or two white characters.

a while ago, i sent an anonymous message to the main asking if they had considered perhaps changing this rule to be 2/3 characters instead of 1/3, since there were so few muses of colour in the roleplay (as i said before, they’ve since deleted this from their blog so i cannot provide a screenshot). they responded that they had been thinking of upping the character limit to four instead of three, with a rule that 2/4 must be played by an fcoc. i gave them the benefit of the doubt and the time to enact this change, but nothing happened.

so a few weeks later, i sent them this message on anonymous:

I was wondering if you had thought any more about the diversity rules here? I know you said before that you were considering increasing the character limit, but I noticed that hasn’t happened and I wanted to know if that was a change we’re going to see or if you would consider changing the rules in another way? I’m really disheartened by the lack of diversity in the roleplay

at the time there were 18 characters of colour out of a total of over 60. they responded (again, i’m sorry i don’t have the actual wording since they’ve deleted the messages) that they had thought about it and decided against upping the character limit, but instead would be having a weekly “poc acceptance day,” where they would only be accepting apps with fcs of colour. they also said they were doing this “now that the waitlist was mostly cleared,” which meant that the rp was mostly at capacity anyway, so they needed to look more at how to encourage their existing members to promote diversity, since there weren’t spaces open for new people to bring them in.

i responded with another anon expressing my disappointment and pointing out that they had done more to prevent having too many celebrity characters than too few muses of colour, as at the time they had a ban on celebrity muses. i wouldn’t usually suggest a ban on certain fcs, but as it was something they had done for celebrity characters, then i supposed it was a reasonable option.

they didn’t even respond to this message and instead posted on the main asking me to come off anon to discuss it. so i did, and i sent them the following dm:

i didn’t want to come off anon because i honestly feel really ostracised in this group and didn’t want to make it worse, but i don’t want to drop this issue and you aren’t comfortable addressing it publicly so here we are i guess. like i said in my previous message, i really don’t see how a “poc acceptance day” is going to make anywhere near enough of a difference. people will just wait for the opportunity to play their white characters. there are only 18 characters of colour in a roleplay with over 60 characters. that’s less than a third, which is obviously concerning. what’s even more concerning for me is that these characters are more often than not overlooked. i am often ghosted when plotting, or people don’t even reach out at all when i like plotting calls or intro posts. and then i have to watch characters like leo almost exclusively interact with white women (i’m sure that’s not the only example, but it is the first that comes to mind as he is one of the more active characters).

so this issue goes so much deeper than there just not being adequate representation in the rp. i really tried to help, i suggested making it a rule that 2/3 characters need to be poc in my original ask and you mentioned upping the character limit in response. i was worried that my concerns were being brushed aside, but i waited a while to give you the benefit of the doubt and the space to discuss the issue. so you can understand why it was really upsetting today to learn that the one thing you suggested was dropped and instead replaced with something that is barely scratching the surface of the problem. and i don’t know if it was your intention, but by saying that you were waiting for the waitlist to clear, it comes across as not wanting to receive any backlash from people who would want to join with only white characters. and even if people did want to join with faceclaims of colour, they can’t because the waitlist is cleared. like i suggested, you could change the rules so that 2 out of 3 characters must be people of colour. or, as was your proposed idea, up the character limit to four. you could also put a temporary ban on white faceclaims until the ratio evens out. as i mentioned, it’s really distressing that this was something you were willing to do for celebrity characters, but not to aid diversity.

i also just want to make it clear that these have been the only anons i’ve sent, i know you’ve been getting other ones, but those weren’t from me!!

( for context, they were receiving anons from someone else claiming that they felt left out in the rp ).

i had hoped that coming off anon would show them that this was a very real issue which was affecting their members, as well as giving them a space to discuss it privately instead of on the main. they responded with:

Hi Em, thank you for coming forward. We really, really appreciate it and we understand it’s not an easy thing to do. We also appreciate you flying the flag for diversity so strongly. We can always strive to be better, we are on the same page with you here.

Let us just explain our decision making. Firstly, just to address the waitlist, that was certainly not at all our intention when we brought it up. It was a logistical decision with 5+ applicants having already waited a week for acceptance and aware of their position on a waitlist.

When we decided against upping the character limit (and therefore the 2/4 POC character rule), we thought a POC acceptance day could be a good alternative course of action. In our eyes, this was something that would probably bring more POC characters to the group than the 2/4 rule because we knew there weren’t going to be many muns taking up an additional fourth character. This was a rule we’ve seen other groups enjoy success from so we wanted to try it out here. Plus, we think a day that explicitly highlights diversity every week would bring the message to the forefront of everyone’s minds. As we said, we’re going to monitor this over the next couple of weeks to see if it brings any improvement because we’d really like to have it as an ongoing rule.

The non-POC ban is actually a measure we’ve spoken about too and we are considering putting one in place should this fail. Thank you for raising your concerns, know that we’ve taken them very seriously and we hope that you’ll trust our judgement in trying this rule out first to see where it leads.

first of all, i don’t think i even have to mention the wording of “flying the flag for diversity.” but the real crux of the issue here is that they supposedly wanted me to come off anon to discuss the issue, but instead just explained their idea further and didn’t take anything i said on board. they didn’t even say a single word about how i told them i felt ostracised and regularly got ignored. i knew from speaking to other muns in the rp who played muses of colour (and just from looking at the dash) that they felt the same way too, but of course was only speaking from my own experience.

i thought long and hard about how to respond to this, as i was so disheartened by their unwillingness to listen to their members and the fact that they didn’t care that i felt left out. it felt like they had asked me to come off anon just so they knew who was messaging them and therefore put a target on my back, so honestly the thought of being on the dash or talking to the admins made me incredibly anxious. before i had a chance, however, they responded again with:

Hi hun, we’ve continued discussing this issue over the last couple of days and we wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to put in place a non-POC ban instead. Thank you again for holding a mirror up to the group. We do hope that this will recorrect the balance.

so i waited to see how things would play out. they posted about this new ban here and pinned the post to the top of the main:

[ IMAGE ID: a screenshot from thevillagehq of an admin update, which reads: in the interest of keeping the village a diverse space, we are currently only accepting applications for POCs. please note that any apps or reserves submitted to us for faceclaims that are not POCs will be deleted. we will lift this rule once we see fit.

thank you for your understanding and your efforts in making this group a brighter, more inclusive and diverse place for all. /END ID ]

this rule remained in place for around two weeks, during which time they made almost no effort to promote it. the above post was pinned to the main page, but that was the only mention of the ban anywhere on their page, they didn’t update the rules page or even put a note on the application page about it. during this two week period, the admins posted 10 promo posts, none of which suggested fcs or even mentioned the ban or diversity at all. the ban was then lifted suddenly when the pinned post was removed and the admins just went back to accepting apps with white fcs. the ratio had only evened out in those two weeks (from 18 out of 65 to 24/50) because of people going inactive or leaving, and there was nothing put into place to continue to promote diversity after the lift of the ban. in the three days after the ban was lifted, the admins posted over 10 promo posts, the same amount they had posted during the entirety of the ban. it was clear that they had no intention of actually making changes in their rp and had only done so because i refused to drop the issue.

again, i thought a lot about what i wanted to message them. i knew at this point that they didn’t want to make any real changes, but i still felt like i had to make it clear to them how disappointing their actions were. once again, i was messaged before i even had a chance, this time for bubbling.

as you can see in the above correspondence, i had told the admins point blank that i felt left out and ignored in the rp because of the characters i played (aubrey plaza, mj rodriguez and keiynan lonsdale fcs. all of my characters were queer and used either she/they or they/them pronouns). as a general rule, the only people who wanted to write with me and have interesting plots with me were people who played other muses of colour. the rp had a rule that you must reply to 3+ muns on every character, which i had been doing. i had only been back from my hiatus for a few days at this point and had responded to 6 different open starters the day prior. their message to me read:

Hi hun. There’s something we wanted to address to you directly. It’s been expressed to us by multiple members during these last few weeks that they have felt excluded by your character within the group, especially when it comes to the friend bubble that has formed between Mars, Bowie, Luvena, Asher and others. 

While we encourage the development of friendships and trust that this isn’t intentional, we have a zero tolerance for bubble roleplaying at The Village. We are aware that our three mun activity rules have been met by all parties involved, however, bubbling is usually a little more nuanced than that and it seems it has unfortunately begun to create a bit of a divide within the group. 

We have already issued individual warnings to a few people within the bubble, however with multiple members still expressing their concerns to us, we decided it would be better to address the group as a whole. We hope that by pointing this out to you, you will try and branch out to your fellow members a little more from now on - and try and be a little more inclusive when it comes to everyone else in the group. 

We take such matters very seriously as admins, and while we hope it won’t have to come to this, there will be consequential steps taken should we not see any changes in your interactions in the weeks to come.

as you can imagine, i was incredibly upset to receive this message after already telling them i didn’t get plots from many of their members and they had done nothing. even people who i had previously messaged continued to only write with the same few white characters. i don’t deny that we definitely had a friendship group between our characters, but there were multiple people in that roleplay, including the admins, who only cared about ship plots or plots with the same few muns. me and other people who received the same message had all previously told the admins that people aren’t plotting with us and gotten ignored, so receiving this message made it clear that they neither cared about us nor wanted us in their rp. and so i responded as below:

yeah i literally told you i felt left out because there are multiple people only writing with white characters and you never addressed it, so this message is honestly insulting. i have reached out to almost every new member, responded to multiple open starters and have tried to plot with as many people as possible. like i told you, i am often left on read or people don’t even message me at all. if people do message me, i am usually expected to put in all of the effort and if people aren’t interested in actually developing plots with me then i am obviously not going to force my characters on them. all of my characters are queer, non binary people of colour and the harsh truth of this roleplay is that people don’t care about them. i even wrote out a whole list of 20 detailed suggested connections in an attempt to get more plots and nothing came from that either. i’ve even gotten anonymous hate saying that offering to explain my characters’ pronouns was “patronising,” which i didn’t feel like i could approach you about because, when i told you about how i’m feeling excluded, you didn’t care.

so if i only have actual plots with the people who actually care about my characters, i make no apologies. i also don’t even have threads with half of the characters you named, asher being the only one, and have literally only just come off hiatus. so please explain how i am bubbling, because this really just feels targeted at this point.

you’ve made it endlessly clear that this rp isn’t a safe space for people who want to play diverse characters. the main was practically silent while you had a ban on white faceclaims, which you never actively promoted, and then you dropped that suddenly without putting anything else in place. you also deleted my initial anonymous messages asking about diversity as if you were trying to hide that there was ever an issue. you turned anonymous messages off, so that no one can safely criticise you. because i did that off anon and ever since it has felt like there is a massive target on my back. my characters have been “accidentally” on the activity checks multiple times despite me being on hiatus (people get a notification that they were tagged even if you remove their name from the list btw). plus when i asked for an extension on my hiatus, you said that you would allow it “just this once” which now makes me feel like i can’t come to you if i’m busy. right now, for example, i am in the middle of moving house, but i’m also stressed about trying to stay active because you have made yourselves completely unapproachable.

the ratio only evened out slightly because members left. then suddenly after the ban you’re posting multiple promo posts a day??? you couldn’t get more obvious. i came to you about diversity in good faith, hoping that it was something you were unaware of, but you have made it abundantly clear that you actively do not want to promote diversity in your roleplay, we are just here to be witnesses to your ship. there are multiple members who are actually bubbling who have been brought to your attention, but nothing has been done. leo continues to only write with the same three white and white passing characters. charlotte pretty much only appears to write with leo and post a vague “message me for plots” post that wasn’t even tagged. both of you only put effort into your ship threads with each other and the occasional text threads. even with something like group events: while i’ve been here, there’s been a pride event that neither of your characters were even in new york for (an event where i was the only one reaching out and posting multiple starters, by the way); there was no event last month, and this month all you’re talking about is this housewarming party.

i’m really disheartened that it’s come to this, but i can’t be here anymore. please post unfollows for all my characters. you’ve said multiple times that we should trust you as admins, but this message shows again that i simply can’t do that. from the disregard of trigger warnings, to the way you treated being held accountable for the lack of diversity, to how you respond to people asking for hiatuses, this isn’t a safe space. even if i stayed, the target you have placed on me is making it insufferable to just write my characters in peace.

the other muns who received the same bubbling message (copy pasted btw, we all got the same one word for word) all responded with their own concerns and criticisms in responses of a similar length to mine. none of us received a reply, our unfollows were just posted the next day without any further responses from the admins. a few of the other members who had written and plotted with us chose to leave as well, which the admins wrote off as us just dragging them with us as opposed to them being able to make their own decisions and being aware of the situation (which was incredibly obvious. no promotion of a white fc ban, suddenly being active on the main once they try to stealthily drop the ban, then the majority of their muses of colour leaving???)

i haven’t paid the rp much attention since i left, as i mentioned above i blocked the main and the majority of the members just for my own mental health. but from a quick scroll through today i can see that the only change in diversity rules is that now instead of your third character having to be a poc, it is now your second. however, you still only have to have 1 character out of 3 have a fc of colour. so very little has been done, but of course i’m not surprised in the slightist.

these admins don’t want diversity in their roleplay. if you play any character who isn’t a rich, white, cishet neurotypical, please avoid it at all costs. it’s not in any way a safe environment.

#rpc #rpt #rp #thevillagerp #hope this makes sense i think there's a lot that needs context and hopefully i did a good enough job explaining #sorry to my non rp followers this blog is such a mess

[letsfluxshitup]

bonding b-over broken bones (ao3!)

(tw: a lil angst and a minor injury <3)

“I want to resurrect Schlatt.” Quackity blurted out, hands fisted in the blanket he’d wrapped around him.

“Ok.” Techno’s eyes didn’t lift from the thick book he was reading from, settled in a rocking chair in front of the fire.

“Ok? That’s it? You’re not going to stop me?” Quackity snapped, shrugging the blanket off of him. 

“Am I… supposed to?” Techno sighed, flipping another page in his book. He shifted slightly, shooting a look at Quackity over the top of his book, looking unimpressed.

“I want to resurrect a dictator, of course you’re supposed to stop me!” Quackity stood quickly, crossing the room in an instant and jabbing a finger into Techno’s chest. Techno batted his hand away like it was nothing, completely unbothered.

“Ok. Quackity… Don’t resurrect Schlatt. That’s… a horrible idea.” He drawled, already looking over the conversation. “You know if you wanted to roleplay you should’ve just said so—”

“I’m not fucking around, Technoblade!” Quackity’s wings puffed up from where they’d been settled against his back, desperate to look intimidating, to get Technoblade to take him seriously. “This isn’t a fucking joke! Don’t demean me, I’m gonna do it!”

Techno paused, head tilted to the side with a considerate look across his face, expression oddly soft in the firelight. Quackity decided then that he hated that look. He didn’t want to be pitied. He wanted to be taken seriously, wanted Techno to make him stop his self-destructive mission, for Techno to act like he wanted him around.

“Why do I feel like we’re talking about more than resurrecting Schlatt here?” Techno broke the silence finally, apparently finding what he was looking for in Quackity’s expression. “I’ll be blunt, Quackity. I’m a bit tired, of all the mind games, of all the political intrigue. If you want something from me you’re just going to have to say it.”

Quackity huffed, Techno didn’t fucking get it, and that was fine, it didn’t bother him. He wished Techno would just do things, instead of making Quackity choose. A small part of him missed that about Schlatt, about how he was just told what to do. Even with the others, he went along with what was said. Techno didn’t allow that, though, and he hated that.

“Why? Why do I have to say anything?” Quackity lashed out again, shoving at Techno’s shoulder. The rocking chair moved with the shove, but Techno remained stony, face impassive and blank. “I want to resurrect Schlatt. That’s obviously a horrible idea! Why won’t you stop me?” 

There was a long beat of silence as the rocking chair swayed back and forth, finally settling again before Techno spoke. 

“It’s your choice, Quackity. You can do what you want. I’m not going to tell you what to do, because I don’t want to. If you wanted guidance, or a helping hand, maybe I can help you with that.” Techno stood then, grabbing Quackity by the shoulders and leaning close. “But, I am not your boss. I don’t care what you do.”

Quackity felt his heart in his throat, staring into Techno’s eyes, the man looking more serious then he’d ever seen him before. Defensive, Quackity lashed out, arms flailing wildly as he stumbled backwards.

“FUCK you, I didn’t want you to care about what I do anyways, you ass-” He cut himself off with a shriek as he stumbled over the carpet, crashing down the stairs and landing at the bottom in a tangle of limbs and wings. 

He blinked and Techno was at his side, and he would’ve been impressed by the graceful landing considering Techno had just jumped from the second floor, but he was distracted by a horrible pain in his ankle.

There was a flurry of movement after that, Techno ordering him to stop squirming as he scooped him up before bridal carrying him up the stairs.

--

Techno carefully laid him out on his bed, and moved to look over his ankle. He was frowning and Quackity couldn’t help the squeak he made when Techno lightly touched it.

It was a fucked up way to ask for attention, Quackity knew, and he shouldn’t be so offended that Techno didn’t rise to the bait, but it was like he didn’t even consider it. And that hurt. 

“Well, Quackity, I think it’s twisted.” Techno said finally, deadpan voice cut with the slightest hint of concern. “Looks like you’ll be stuck here for a while.”

“Just call someone to come get me, I can still ride a horse.” Quackity huffed, arms crossed as he glared at Techno. He was still pissed, alright? It still smarted a little that Techno, apparently, didn’t care about him enough to stop him from hurting himself and others.

He huffed again, and stuck his tongue out at Techno when he shot him a questioning look.

“Unfortunately for you, a blizzard’s coming in. Even if someone could get here before it arrives, there’s no way you could make it back safely.” Techno moved to stoke the fire more, settling another log on the pile. 

“For…?” He prompted after a long lapse of silence, both of them just staring at each other, Quackity irritated and Techno puzzled.

“Whatever,” Quackity mumbled, fiddling with the edge of the blanket Techno had carefully draped over him. “You should apologize, you know.”

Techno blinked at him, looking genuinely confused.

“Whatever!” Quackity snapped, “Never mind, it’s whatever.” 

“Ok.” Techno responded simply, standing up from his squat next to the fireplace and stretching. He looked like he was going to say something before he was interrupted by a door opening downstairs.

“Techno?” Philza called into the empty bottom floor, stomping the snow off of his boots as he came into the house. He shook the snow from his wings as he stripped off his outer layers, meeting Techno’s eyes over the railing of the stairs.

“Hallo. Quackity’s here.” Techno said, making his way down the stairs to meet Philza at the door. 

“Oh? Quackity?” Philza paused, before whispering, “The loud one with the messy wings?”

At Techno’s affirmative nod, he beamed. 

“Such a good young man. Very… Nonthreatening.” Philza smiled at him. “Good friend material.”

Techno squinted at him.

“I’m not a child,” Techno huffed. “I don’t need you to approve of all of my friends.”

Philza just snorted, deciding not to call him out on how he practically preened when Philza voiced his approval.

--

Philza carefully stroked down the feathers on Quackity’s wings, loose feathers drifting slowly to the ground. Quackity was sat on a chair with a low back, crafted specifically with the winged hybrids in mind. His ankle was propped on another chair across from him, an ice pack on his ankle. 

Techno had been aggressively doting over him, adjusting his pillows and helping him drape the red cape Quackity had bullied him into handing over. Philza had gently sent him away, asking him to make them something to eat while he helped Quackity with his wings, amusement over the mother-henning palpable.

Philza didn’t miss the pout on his son’s face when he mentioned grooming Quackity’s wings, and barely managed to hold back a snort when he caught Techno shooting him a jealous look from the kitchen. 

The clanking of pans and dishes hitting together and the sounds of cupboards open and closing filled the background. 

Quackity cleared his throat, uncomfortable before falling silent again. 

Philza continued to groom his wings, silently amused by the squirming the uncomfortable silence caused. Quackity’s shoulders relaxed a miniscule amount and Philza pounced.

“Do you even know how to groom your wings?” Philza said abruptly, startling Quackity into a more rigid sitting position. The sudden movement earned a squeak as he jostled his injured ankle. Techno appeared at the doorway, a concerned look on his face, blue frilly apron on and dirty spoon in hand. 

Thank God, Quackity thought to himself, please help this is so fucking awkward. 

Philza just sent him his most disarming smile, earning him a suspicious squint, he’d taught him well, but Techno disappeared into the kitchen again without comment. 

I’m fucked, Quackity thought, cursing his lack of telepathy as his one hope of salvaging this interaction walked away.

Has it been too long now? Quackity wondered, does he still expect a response?

The silence stretched on for far too fucking long, Quackity shifting slightly in his chair as he tried to think of a way to save the situation. He glanced into the mirror hanging on the wall, Philza looking as peaceful and impassive as he had when they started. He nervously twisted a corner of the cape in his lap, and fuck Techno for leaving me alone with his dad you never leave your friends alone with your dad why would he do this to me, motherfuck-

“Quackity?” Philza chirped, sounding amused, “You alright in there?”

“Fine!” Quackity squeaked, cursing his high pitch and nervousness before clearing his throat and trying again. “I’m just fine, how are you, uh-, big man?”

Quackity flinched. Big man? Seriously?

“I’m alright. Joined this server, killed my son, my other son got exiled by my other other son’s government. Same old, same old.” Philza kept the same tone throughout, light and airy and Quackity winced. He hadn’t thought that through, fuck. 

“No hard feelings, right?” Quackity joked nervously.

“Should there be?” Philza said, suddenly dead serious as he made eye contact with Quackity through the mirror across from them. And, oh, yeah Quackity could see why Philza had the reputation he did and how did he keep getting himself into these situations, god fucking-

Philza snorted, patting him on the shoulder before standing and stretching.

“I’m just fucking with ya, mate, don’t worry about it. No hard feelings.” Philza smiled, but there was something a little too feral to it, too sharp to be completely friendly, and Quackity saw where Techno got it from. 

--

“I just— I hate all of this, L’Manburg, Manburg— after all of that started things started going to shit.”

Techno paused in his knitting, carefully set it down as he turned to look towards Quackity. Quackity was staring pensively into the fire, leaning heavily on one elbow as he studied the flames. 

Philza had disappeared down the staircase moments before, despite Techno’s silent pleading with him to stay, only giving Techno a smug look over Quackity’s head, and a promise to return with hot chocolate.

After it looked like he wasn’t going to continue, Techno picked up his knitting again.

“It’s just—” Quackity started, and Techno sighed, “everything sucks now! Everyone’s all up in arms about everything, and everything is all about ‘intercountry relations‘ and it’s dumb and I hate it and it sucks. Governments suck, Techno.”

Techno inhaled. Exhaled. He slowly set down his knitting, lest any sudden movements scare away Quackity’s one moment of clarity. They were few and far between, you really had to capitalize on what you got when you got it. They were very close to a revelation here, and Techno had to act carefully. 

When Techno turned to look at him Quackity was staring at him, expression open and vulnerable. 

“Be careful, Ducky, you’re starting to sound like me.” He deadpanned, finally breaking the silence between them.

It was almost funny how quickly Quackity’s face crumpled, cycling between affronted, bamboozled, then contemplative. The old ABCs of realizing you’re an anarchist,Techno thought, happens every time.

Quackity blinked twice, quickly, before shaking his head.

“Y’know what— actually, nevermind. I don’t— We can worry about government another day, alright, asshole?” There was no bite to his tone this time, still looking deep in thought. He huffed before shifting in his seat uncomfortably, looking into the fire again. 

“I think… We should talk. About our feelings.” Quackity’s speech was stilted, looking wildly uncomfortable and like he wanted to be literally anywhere else. Techno felt the same way.

“Ok.” Techno said finally, looking down at his knitting project again. “You can start.”

Quackity huffed, looking offended, before anxiously rubbing his hands across his thighs. Why did this have to be so awkward? 

“I’m a licensed therapist, you know—” Quackity started, hands waving as if gesturing authoritatively would give him more credit.

“You’re not.”

Quackity flipped him off.

“Ok, you got me— I’m not, but I think we could work with some I feel statements.” He spoke semi confidently, desperate to put on a front, but his wings’ anxious shifting gave him away. “I feel upset, because of what you said earlier. Or, I guess— what you didn’t say?”

“I feel confused, because I don’t know what I didn’t say that upset you.” Techno said, stuttering slightly over the sentence. A glance at Quackity proved that he was just as confused, and Quackity huffed, frustrated. 

Quackity flipped him off again before starting over.

“Ok, I see how that could be confusing. But, you—” He didn’t get to finish as Techno cut him off.

“I thought we were doing I feel statements. You can’t just ignore your own rules, you’re the one who set them.”

“Ok- fine- I feel hurt, that you didn’t do anything when I said I was going to resurrect Schlatt.” At the blank look he received he continued, voice noticeably shakier. “I feel like you don’t care, because if you did care, you’d make me stop. Or tell me not to, I guess.”

Quackity finished lamely, hands dropping back into his lap as he glared at the fire. 

“Oh.” Techno said finally, nervously tapping on the table. “I can see how that would hurt. I’m— I feel— Do I still have to do this I feel statement thing?” 

Quackity snorted before waving his hand dismissively. “Just speak.”

“I think resurrecting Schlatt is an awful idea. Like, there’s no way that’s going to end well. But I don’t— I don’t know!” He looked frustrated now, running his hands over the knitted yarn. “I’m tired of being told what to do. Of being used. I didn’t want you to feel the same way. You’re your own person, Quackity, you can do what you want. I trust you.”

“Oh.” Quackity said finally. 

“Oh.” Techno agreed, staring into the fire again. 

“Thanks? For trusting me, I guess,” Quackity shifted again, adjusting his wings against his back.

Techno just grunted, before looking towards Quackity again. Quackity was looking at him, too, nerves written across his face.

“Can we be friends again?” Quackity blurted out, flushing slightly.

“Sure,” Techno snorted, grabbing his knitting before standing up. He settled down again next to Quackity’s chair, head resting on the side of his thigh as he continued his soon-to-be mittens. They were varying shades of blue, and Techno planned to line them with soft fabric. 

He’d noticed how cold Quackity got, the man used to the much warmer temperatures of Manburg. He was slowly working on a set of winter clothes for him, starting with the mittens. Philza had recommended starting small, after teaching Techno the basics. 

Speak of the devil, Philza came up the staircase carrying a tray with three mugs on it. After handing them out, he settled into the chair Techno had abandoned, looking unbearably smug as he took a sip from his mug.

Techno knew that look. Techno feared that look.

“So!” Philza said cheerily, gesturing at Techno and Quackity, “When’s the wedding?”

#technoblade #quackity #philza #ph1lza #my fics #every day i talk about quacknoblade crack wedding and every day i dont write about that im so sorry LKDJFLKSDJFLDSKFJ #uwu! anyways #ok to reblog <3 #quacknobros