#because someone else had to say HEY maybe try including different characters this time?

[starlitmelanin]

ᡣ𐭩ྀི make-believe; j.bellingham

pairing - jude x fem!reader

word count - 3k

warnings - none

summary - you and jude had broken up, decided to go your separate ways, but now you're both forced to play nice for an adidas ad.

you knew this day was coming.

the email landed in your inbox a week ago, the subject line so innocent, so unassuming: adidas shoot - schedule update.

you almost deleted it out of reflex, your heart dropping the moment you recognised the sender. but you clicked it anyway, because you knew better than to ignore reality.

"we've got an exciting shoot coming up with some of our top athletes," the message read, all corporate cheerfulness, "including you and jude bellingham! can't wait to see the magic you two create together."

magic. right.

you hadn't seen jude since it happened, since the two of you had ended things with a mutual understanding that felt more like mutual devastation. the kind of breakup where there's no yelling, no slamming doors, just a quiet acceptance that what you had was too complicated, too much for either of you to carry any longer.

but it wasn't any easier for that. in fact, it might've been harder. because you couldn't even hate him. you couldn't even scream or cry or blame him for anything. you were just... sad. sad in a way that sat heavy in your chest, that didn't go away no matter how many times you told yourself it was for the best.

and now, here you are, standing in the studio with the lights too bright and the air too cool, dressed head-to-toe in adidas gear, waiting for jude to show up.

you can feel the tension building in your shoulders, the nerves twisting in your stomach. you're trying to remind yourself that it's just another day at work, just another shoot, but it's not. not when he's involved.

you hear him before you see him, the familiar sound of his voice as he greets someone at the entrance, that same tone that used to make your heart skip a beat. you don't turn around right away, too busy pretending to adjust the fit of your jacket, but when you finally look up, there he is.

jude's standing there, just a few feet away, looking as good as ever, and it's like air is being sucked right out of your lungs. you thought you were prepared for this, thought you'd built up enough of a wall around your heart to keep it together, but the moment you see him, that wall cracks, just a little.

he looks... different. maybe it's just the distance, the time that's passed, or maybe it's the way he's holding himself, more reserved, more cautious. but his eyes still find yours, and for a split second, everything else fades away. it's just the two of you, caught in that familiar yet unspoken connection that never really went away.

"hey," he says, his voice softer than you remember, almost hesitant.

"hey," you reply, and it's too casual, too normal for what this moment really is. but you don't know what else to say, how else to greet the person who used to be your everything.

before either of you can say more, the director claps his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "all right, let's get started! y/n, jude, we're going to start with some paired shots, just the two of you. we want to capture that chemistry, that connection you both have as madrid's star players."

you almost laugh at the irony, but it sticks in your throat, coming out as a forced smile instead. you nod, falling into step with jude as the crew starts directing you both, positioning you in front of the camera.

the first pose isn't too bad. you're standing side by side, arms crossed, the standard tough athlete look. it's easy enough to slip into character, to pretend like everything's fine. but then the director starts asking for more.

"can you two get a little closer? jude, put your arm around y/n's shoulders, like you're celebrating a win together."

it's such a simple request, something you've done a hundred times before, but now it feels like the hardest thing in the world. still, you nod, forcing your body to move as jude steps closer, his arm brushing against yours before he rests it on your shoulders.

the contact sends a shiver through you, a reminder of all the times you used to lean into him, used to find comfort in his touch. but now, it feels different. awkward, forced, like a ghost of something that used to be real.

you keep your smile plastered on, staring straight ahead at the camera, but you can feel jude's tension too, the way his grip on your shoulder isn't as relaxed as it used to be, how he's holding back. and it makes everything worse because it's a reminder that he's just as affected by this as you are.

"perfect, perfect!" the director calls out, oblivious to the silent struggle happening between you. "now, y/n, turn towards jude, like you're about to high-five him, but stop just before your hands meet. we want to capture that anticipation, that energy."

you don't even know what that means, but you do as you're told, turning to face jude, your hand hovering in the air between you. he mirrors your movement, and now you're standing so close that you can see every detail of his face, the lines of stress around his eyes, the way his lips are pressed into a thin line.

the silence stretches between you, and for a moment, it feels like the whole world has shrunk down to just this, just the space between your hands, the weight of everything unsaid. your heart is pounding in your chest, your breath coming a little faster, and you're terrified that he can hear it, that he knows how much this is affecting you.

"great, hold that! now, jude, how about you pull y/n in for a side hug, like you're celebrating together again?"

you blink, your smile faltering for just a second before you catch yourself. this is too much, too close, too soon. but you don't have much of a choice, so you force yourself to move, stepping into jude's space as he wraps an arm around you.

it's stiff, weird, nothing like the way it used to be. and you can tell he feels it too, the way his body is tense, how his touch is light, as if he's afraid to hold on too tight, afraid of what might happen if he does.

you try to relax, try to let yourself sink into the moment, but it's impossible. because all you can think about is how wrong this feels, how much it hurts to be this close to him and yet so far away.

"beautiful! now, y/n, lean your head on jude's shoulder, like you're sharing a moment after a big win."

the director's voice feels like nails on a chalkboard, and you have to fight the urge to tell him to stop, to leave you alone. but you don't. instead, you follow his instructions, tilting your head to rest on jude's shoulder, your heart in your throat.

the scent of him hits you, familiar and comforting, and it takes everything in you not to let your eyes close, not to let yourself get lost in the memories that flood your mind. you can feel jude's breath hitch, just for a second, and you wonder if he's feeling the same thing, if the weight of this moment is crushing him too.

"and... got it! that's a wrap on this setup!"

the words are a relief, but also a disappointment. because even though this is torture, part of you doesn't want it to end, doesn't want to step away from him and go back to pretending like everything's fine, like you're over it.

but you have to. so you pull away, stepping back as jude's arm drops from your shoulders, the distance between you growing again. you glance up at him, catching his eyes for just a moment, and the look there makes your chest ache.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice low, just for you.

you nod, but it's a lie, and you both know it. "yeah. you?"

"yeah." another lie.

the director is already moving on, calling for the next setup, oblivious to the tension that hangs in the air like a storm cloud. you and jude follow along, moving like you're on autopilot, but it's clear that the magic they were hoping for isn't there. not really.

the next few poses are just as bad, each one requiring you to get close, to touch, to pretend like everything's fine when it's not. and with each one, the facade gets harder to maintain, the cracks in your armor growing wider.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, the director calls for a break, and you all but collapse onto a nearby bench, your head in your hands. you can feel jude's presence next to you, but you can't bring yourself to look at him, not now, not when you're so close to breaking.

"y/n," he says softly, and you can hear the concern in his voice, the guilt.

"don't," you whisper, shaking your head. "not here."

he doesn't push, but you can feel his frustration, his helplessness. and it's almost worse than if he had tried to talk to you, because it means he's feeling it too, the weight of this, the impossibility of pretending like nothing's changed.

the break doesn't last long enough.

before you've even caught your breath, the director is calling you back, his voice echoing through the studio like a bad dream. you don't want to get up, don't want to face jude again, but you don't have a choice. this is your job, your life, and sometimes that means swallowing the pain and pushing through it.

when you stand, jude's already on his feet, watching you with that same look he had earlier—like he wants to say something, like he's waiting for the right moment. but there's no right moment, and there won’t be. so you just walk past him, heading back to the set, feeling his eyes on your back the entire way.

"alright, now we're thinking something dynamic," the director explains, too excited for his own good. "like jude lifting y/n off the ground, both of you laughing, like you've just won a big tournament or something."

you almost laugh at the absurdity of it. the idea of jude lifting you, holding you close, laughing like nothing's wrong—it feels like a cruel joke. but you nod anyway, because what else can you do?

you take your position, standing in front of jude. the director is giving more instructions, telling jude how to wrap his arms around your waist, how to make it look effortless, but you can't focus on any of it. all you can think about is how this is going to hurt in ways you can't even begin to prepare for.

when jude's hands settle on your waist, it's like a jolt of electricity shoots through you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. his touch is gentle, almost too gentle, but it's the tenderness that cuts the deepest.

"on three," the director says, his voice distant, like it's coming from underwater. "one, two, three!"

jude lifts you, just like he's supposed to, and you feel the ground disappear beneath your feet. for a split second, it's almost like it used to be—before everything fell apart. the way he used to hold you like you were the most precious thing in the world, like you were worth protecting.

you're supposed to laugh, supposed to act like this is fun, but the sound that comes out of your mouth is hollow, forced. you don't know how jude manages to smile, how he keeps up the act, because all you want to do is scream, to tell everyone to stop, that this is too much, too painful.

but you don't. you just hang there, suspended in jude's arms, pretending like this is just another day, like you're not dying inside.

"perfect, perfect! that's exactly what we needed!" the director's voice is too loud, too cheerful, and it grates against your nerves. you want to tell him that this isn't perfect, that nothing about this is perfect, but the words stick in your throat.

when jude finally sets you down, you're unsteady on your feet, your legs shaky. you take a step back, putting distance between you, but it's not enough. the damage is done. the wound has been ripped open.

you glance at jude, and the look in his eyes tells you everything. he's hurting too, more than he's letting on. but he's also resigned, like he knows there's nothing either of you can do to fix this, like he's accepted that this is just the way it has to be.

"we'll take five," the director announces, already moving on to the next setup, oblivious to the emotional minefield he's just dragged you both through.

you nod, barely acknowledging him, and walk off the set, needing to be alone, needing to breathe. jude doesn't follow you this time, and you're grateful for it. you don't know what you'd say if he did. you don't know how to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside you, the pain of being so close to him and yet so far away.

you find a quiet corner of the studio, out of sight of the crew, and lean against the wall, your head tilted back as you try to keep it together. but the tears are already welling up, and you hate yourself for it, for being this vulnerable, this broken.

it wasn't supposed to be like this. you and jude were supposed to be the ones who made it, who figured it out. but life had other plans, and now you're stuck here, pretending like everything's fine when it's anything but.

you wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but it's no use. the emotions are too raw, too fresh. you can still feel jude's touch on your skin, still hear his voice in your head, and it's all too much.

you're so lost in your thoughts that you don't hear him approach. it's only when he speaks that you realise he's standing right in front of you.

"y/n..."

you look up, and there he is, his expression a mix of concern and something else. you want to tell him to leave, to go back to the set and let you deal with this on your own, but the words won't come.

"i'm sorry," he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. "i didn't think it'd be this hard."

"me neither," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

he takes a step closer, hesitating like he's not sure if he should, like he's afraid of crossing a line that's already been blurred too many times today. "i... i still care about you. that hasn't changed."

his words hit you like a heavy blow, and you have to look away, your eyes focusing on the floor because you can't bear to look at him right now.

"jude, don't," you manage to say, your voice shaky. "please, just... don't."

he sighs, running a hand through his hair, frustration etched in every line of his body. "i don't know what to do, y/n. i don't know how to make this better."

you wish you had an answer for him, but you don't. because there isn't one. some things just can't be fixed, no matter how much you want them to be.

"maybe it's not supposed to be better," you say, your voice barely holding steady. "maybe this is just... how it has to be."

the words hang in the air, final and unchangeable, and you know they're true, even if you don't want them to be. whatever you and jude had, it's gone now, and no amount of pretending is going to bring it back.

he nods, his eyes dropping to the floor, and you can see the defeat in his posture, the way he's finally accepted that this is the end.

"we should get back," you say, needing to put distance between you, needing to end this conversation before it destroys you completely.

he doesn't argue, just follows your lead as you both make your way back to the set, the silence between you deafening.

the rest of the shoot goes by in a blur. you're going through the motions, doing what's asked of you without really thinking, without really feeling. it's easier that way, easier to disconnect, to shut down.

and jude... jude is the same. distant, reserved, like he's put up his own walls to protect himself from the hurt. you don't blame him. you've done the same.

when it's finally over, when the director calls it a wrap and the crew starts packing up, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. it's done. you survived. but that relief is tinged with sadness, with the knowledge that nothing's really changed. the pain is still there, still as fresh as it was when you first saw him this morning.

you grab your things, eager to get out of there. but as you're about to leave, he catches your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

"y/n," he says, and there's something in his voice, something that makes you pause.

you turn to look at him, and for a moment, you see the boy you fell in love with, the one who made you believe in forever.

"take care of yourself," he says, his voice soft, almost tender.

you nod, not trusting yourself to speak. because there's no closure here, no neat ending, no goodbye that makes everything okay. there's just this—this messy, painful, complicated thing that you and jude have become.

"you too," you finally manage to say.

he gives you a small, sad smile, and then he lets you go.

and just like that, it's over. you walk away, your heart heavy, your mind racing with everything you wanted to say but couldn't.

because this isn't a movie, and there's no script to follow.

it's just... done.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: why am I so anxious all the time?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

If Peggy’s party promised everything would change, the ‘yes’ you give to Arturo pays on that promise. Almost at once, everything is different. Your boring, orderly life is suddenly thrown into chaos. You have a hundred worries at once and not enough times; passport, visa, packing, flights. Not too mention all that you’re leaving behind; apartment, furniture, and... friends. 

It’ll be good. You keep telling yourself that, just like Arturo, just like Sam. They seem more excited than you are. You struggle to see past the grief of saying goodbye to the life you built there; the life you built around Steve and false hopes. It’s foolish and naive but it still hurts. 

And you’re scared. Norway. It’s far away. And you’ll be all alone. You survived college because you found Steve; you could stomach the furor of the city for Sam and Bucky, but on your own, what could you do? You’re not brave or bold or anything like that. 

It doesn’t matter. You’re going to work. To forget. Focus on the dig, don’t think about everything else. 

You’ve already lost so much. Steve’s busy, you are too. Maybe that’s good. You have to condition yourself for the trip. For a new life. A year is a long time. You feel like the newly graduated teen heading off to college, the one who walked into the wrong lecture hall on that fated day, the one he picked out and put firmly in her place; a friend, just a friend. 

As you sort through your closet, tossing fabric into one pile or the other, your music stops playing and your phone buzzes loudly against your nightstand. You hurry to pick it up as that noise makes your neck bristle. You hate it. 

You pick up without checking the display. You hope it’s the visa office. No, it’s Sam. 

“Hey, chicky poo,” he chirps from the other end. 

“Chicky poo?” You echo flatly. 

“Hm, you’re right, I’ll keep workshopping,” he chuckles, “so you’re leaving in a week?” 

“As long as my paperwork shows up,” you sighs and cross your arm over your middle. You sway as you look around at the clutter of your bedroom. “And I can get all this shit out of my place.” 

“When’s your flight?” He asks pointedly. He’s not subtle. Men never are. For years, you’d hoped Steve was being subtle and look how that turned out. You know now he was so obviously not into you.  

“Thursday, 5am,” you answer. 

“Ah, that’s pretty early to be hungover but it will be worth it.” 

“Hungover?” You wonder as you slowly sit on your bed, “why?” 

“You’re leaving us so obviously, you need a final hurrah,” he insists, “I’m throwing you a going away party. Just the four of us, unless you have any plus ones?” 

“Going away party?” 

“Neither of the other jerks are gonna do it,” he scoffs, “nothing fancy, promise. Just some drinks.” 

“What about Tuesday? Give me a day to recover?” 

“Wednesday works. Steve’ll be back by then.” 

“Back by then?” You must sound like a parrot. 

“Oh, yeah, the lovers went up north to look at venues for the engagement party. Too bad you won’t make it. I’ll have to drink myself into a stupour all by myself,” he intones. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you grumble and pick at a wrinkle in your pants. 

“Don’t be sorry. You deserve this. I’m so fucking excited for you,” he chimes, “you have to tell me everything. I want pictures of vikings and castles and stuff. All of it.” 

“Sam, I’m just going to be digging,” you mutter. 

“And? You can’t just go over there an put your head down. Go sightseeing, go out on the town, have a wild one-night stand--” 

“Sam,” you drone. 

“You need it,” he cackles, “it’ll be a story to bring home with ya. Make us all jealous with your wild Norwegian adventure. Hey,” he pauses and sucks his teeth, “you’re like Uno reversing a whole country. Vikings used to invade others, this is your chance to go right in there and raise hell.” 

“You’re stupid,” you laugh and shake your head. 

“Never said otherwise.” 

“Hm, fine, Wednesday,” you agree, “if I'm gonna be there, I gotta get all this shit packed.” 

“Did I not say if you need anything? I can help,” he offers. 

“No, no, I got it,” you say, “really, it’s not that much.” 

“Right, well, I should get back to it and let you do the same,” he says in a resigned tone. 

You hang up and heave. You put the phone down and drop your head into your hands. You feel like you should cry. You’ve felt that tide of tears pushing on your eyes since the party but they just won’t come. All that tension is driving you mad but you just can’t dislodge the nail driven deep into your chest. 

💟

Your life is hectic but you’re not surprised Steve isn’t part of the whirlwind. Why would he be? He has so much going on. A wedding is much more important than what could possibly be the most spontaneous and naive decision of your life. Impulsive more than anything. Cowardly when you think about it. You’re running away because you can’t face the truth. Because it’s just easy to leave your emotions in New York. 

Still, you thought you’d hear more than this. More than a thumbs up emoji or hearsay from Sam. Even after your conversation on the balcony and his reassurances, you still feel his discontent. Will he really miss you that much or is he just upset you won’t be there to celebrate the love of his life? 

It doesn’t matter, does it? 

It’s gone so fast and you hope the next year goes just as quickly. That all this passes. Not just the trip but everything else. The sadness, the pain, the fear. You try to be positive. You thought college was scary and look how that turned out. 

Ugh, you’re really doing this. You're leaving is all behind. You’re leaving your friends and your family and your home. You have no one to blame but yourself. You could’ve gotten over Steve Rogers a decade ago. More than that. You couldn’t rip the band-aid off, you had to pull it slow so ever hair rends painfully from the flesh. 

The GPS guides you between the shining marquee. You can see the pulsing dot of your destination on the screen. You don’t drive towards it, instead hunting for a parking spot among the cramped lots and lined curbs. You should’ve taken a cab but you’re only having one drink and you’re saving for the inevitable expense of hurling yourself halfway across the world. 

You get out and grab your phone, your purse hooked over your elbow. You raise the small screen and get your bearings, squinting as you set yourself in the right direction. Just across and at the end. 

As you approach the bar, you stop short. This isn’t exactly the flavour. Well, not for them. You peer up at the neon light in the shape of a martini, a bright pink beacon, under which a large group of women cluster. Whoops and hollers go up as they enter and leave you standing out in the technicolour-tinted night. Did you get the address wrong? 

You check your messages with Sam. No, it’s correct. Strange. Maybe he didn’t know. 

You pull open the violet-shaded glass door and peer around as you step out of the way of the patrons behind you. You text Sam to check if he’s there already. You can’t seem to keep up with the clock hands these days.  

As you wait for a response, you glance around. It’s like a Sex and the City reenactment. The guys always teased you for your rants about Carrie Bradshaw’s selfishness. They weren’t much for the genre. With them, it’s sports bars and beers and what ball game is in season. They never notice your cute new earrings or your efforts to spruce up your work clothes with a flashy belt. 

‘Here. You’re looking cute.’ Sam’s response comes.  

You narrow your eyes and stand on your toes to look around. He’s sitting at a tall table with Bucky, the two of them looking out of place before the feathered centerpiece and glitzy wall art of high heels. You can’t help a grin. This is absolutely ridiculous. 

You weave through the tables and bodies, past the bar of gabbing girl groups and a few men mixed in. You near your friends and claim one of the tall stools around the round table. You use the bottom bar to haul yourself up onto the seat and hang your purse from your knee. 

“Hey, this place is... sparkly,” you look around with a dumb smile. You can’t help it! You never get a girls’ night. 

“It is,” Bucky agrees in a grit. 

You stop short. You look at him then at Sam. You didn’t notice before. They’re wearing bows on their heads. Sam has a head band with a gregariously big pink ribbon, whereas Bucky has a glittering purple bow pinned into his thick locks. You laugh and smother it behind your hands. 

“What is this?” You snicker. 

“We are your ladies tonight!” Sam announces and shifts to stand, bending under the table, “and you get to be queen bee!” He reaches to the floor and you lean to see the huge tote underneath, “here is your tiara!” 

He pulls out the plastic tiara with fake pink gems and white feathers. You giggle again as he places it on your head. This is too much. 

“Sam! How—this is so stupid. You didn’t have to do all this.” 

“What? It’s about time. Don’t worry about us. It’s all about you,” he snaps his finger and points at you, “we’re going to order girly cocktails and dish on the cute dudes.” 

Bucky shakes his head as he fixes the bow in his hair, “I wanted a flower.” 

You bring your hands down to your next and wiggle on the seat giddily. This is amazing. Your eyes sting and your throat locks up. You’re going to miss these idiots. 

“You guys,” you breathe. 

“No crying!” Sam claps his hand, “I already got this guy moping around.” 

“I’m not moping,” Bucky sniffs. 

“We have to decide who’s who. I know you hate Carrie so we’ll save that for Steve. He is the stuck up blond, after all,” Sam smirks, “I’m definitely Samantha, it’s already in my name. And you,” he points at you, “Miranda. The level-headed one who has to put up with our BS. That means Bucky--” 

“Charlotte?” Bucky frowns, “can’t I be Stanford?” 

You nearly gasp, “Bucky, are you a stan?” 

“I’ve seen some episodes,” he shrugs. 

“Well, that’s decided,” Sam checks his watch, “where’s that bozo?” 

You frown and look around. You look at your phone. You were just on the cusp but Steve is late. Bucky takes out his cell too and all three of you scroll through your screens. 

“Whatever, we don’t have to wait for him, drinks,” Sam blacks the screen and sets down his phone. He reaches for the pink pleather drink menu, “I was looking at the Paradise Punch. Sounds interesting.” 

“Mm, I’m just having one,” you state, “I gotta drive home.” 

“Pfft, don’t worry about it. You can get your car tomorrow.” 

“Sam, I leave at five in the morning.” 

“Fine, I’ll take care of the car. You’re storing it, aren’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t expect--” 

“Tonight is going to be fun. No arguing,” he points a long finger at you. 

The phone jitters and his phone lights up. He picks it up as your cell remains lifeless in a rare moment of peace, though it’s fraught nonetheless. You peek over at the empty fourth stool. 

“He’s not coming,” you utter. 

Sam huffs and puts his phone down, “he’s not. Peggy has a work dinner and he’s invited.” 

“Oh,” you nod and try not to deflate entirely, “that’s... that’s fine. He said he’d come to the airport but I wasn’t counting on that either.” 

“Asshole,” Sam sneers. 

“Hey, no,” you shake your head, “he’s busy. He has a wedding and all that--” 

“You’re going away,” Bucky surprises you with the emotion in his tone, “and he can’t be here.” 

“Really, it’s not--” 

“It is,” Sam insists. “How long are you gonna let him walk all over you? Isn’t that why you’re leaving?” 

“It’s work, it’s nothing to do with Steve.” 

“Sure,” Sam accepts hotly, “keep telling yourself that.” He cringes and swallows, “tonight isn’t about him. For once. It’s about you. Us. Having fun. Saying goodbye. It’s gonna be terrible without you. I hope you know that.” 

You could laugh at his rebuke. The conflict between celebratory and reproachful is amusing. You exhale and put your hands up. 

“Alright, I got it.” 

“Buck,” he gestures to the other man, “go.” 

You turn to the Bucky and he slides off his stool. He reaches down under the table and brings up a gift bag. Your mouth falls open. Your chest tweaks, a mixture of glee and guilt. You’re happy to have friends with them but you feel so bad for not seeing it earlier. For being so tunnel-visioned that you couldn’t appreciate them fully. 

“This is so—you didn’t have to,” you say. 

“We did. Obviously,” Sam scoffs, “don’t worry, my gift is the grand finale.” 

“Right,” you smile and accept the bag from Bucky. You push through the tissue paper and pull out the heavy shape inside. You reveal it and just as quickly hide it back in the polka dot bag, “Bucky!” 

You let go of the taser and retract your hand. Sam guffaws and Bucky gives a confused grimace, “you need it.” 

“What?” You hiss. 

“You’re going to be all alone over there. You should be safe.” 

“I... appreciate the thought but it’s a bit extreme.” 

“He’s right,” Sam adds, “you know, going to the land of the vikings, you can never be too safe. I’ve heard they like to carry women off in their boats.” 

“You two,” you roll your eyes. 

“My turn,” Sam says, “you’ll love this.” 

He once more searches under the table and the tote crinkle. He pulls out an envelope and you tilt your head. Really? 

“Money?” You wonder. 

“What am I? Your grandma?” He snorts, “here.” 

You take the envelope and turn it over. You pull the flap open and reveal a pamphlet within, along with a second slip of paper. A reservation... 

“I found this place over there. It’s at some coastal castle, there’s a spa and all that. They do like ancient types of treatments, hot rocks or whatever,” he explains, “I made sure you can adjust the dates too if you need. You just have to call.” 

“Wow, that’s... Sam, I’m going to be so busy--” 

“I told you not to work yourself too hard. That’s a good excuse for you to get your head out of the dirt. Literally. Just think of me when you’re in a mud bath with a glass of champagne.” 

You put the envelope next to the gift bag and drop off the stool. You open your arms to them. Sam is up first and Bucky drags himself to his feet. You wrap them in a hug and they do the same in turn. It must be an absolutely ridiculous sight but you don’t care. You tuck your head against Sam’s arm and feel a rumble in Bucky’s chest. 

“Sam, that’s my ass,” Bucky snarls. 

“I was just making sure you didn’t forget your wallet,” Sam chuckles. 

“You’re a moron,” Bucky pulls away and shoves him. 

“Peas in a pod, bud,” Sam lets you go as the hug breaks up, “now, I need a drink and you...” he points in your direction, “need a double.” 

[spooky-pop]

Hey found your blog and your punk rock broppy au. Got to say love what I see so far and what to know more about it like. What movie does this au take place?

When rock branch and poppy meet again after all these years apart what was their impression on each other?

Was it love at first sight ? If not who fell for who first?

Is creek in this au and did poppy have a crush on him like in the canon? What’s branch thoughts about his siblings? Is branch fully loyal to the rock tribe including twt barb plan?

Does branch get jelly of creek or hickory when their around poppy like he did in canon? That’s all I got for now.

Thank you so much!! I also really appreciate the questions and am so excited to answer them since I've been working more on this AU behind the scenes. There are a lot of details and plot points I just have not figured out yet, so there's a chance some things could still be changed, cut out or just tweaked a tad. I don't mind sharing more about this AU since the comics are already in progress haha

Excuse the text wall, haha!

-This takes place around the Trolls 1 timeline, then maybe a little into Trolls 2. The Bergens are still a danger and Branch still accompanies Poppy to save the Snack Pack. Instead of him finding the will to sing again in Trolls 1, he works on facing his past and traumas with Poppy to finally find his happiness.

-When Branch left pop village he was probably around the age of 9 or 10, he and Poppy definitely had some kind of a bond as children but as years passed, they both tried to focus on their own lives by trying to move on and forget about what they lost/left behind. They re-unite in their 20s, and since this AU follows RomCom tropes, they have a similar vibe to Trolls 1 Broppy. She wants to know more about him, and he is very secretive about it all and keeps his distance. There's a lot of banter between them. Very much begins like they dislike eachother but time will fix that :)

-It was not love at first sight for them, but Branch was the one who fell first, and the hardest. He tried to keep that hidden behind his tough exterior though, because he CERTAINLY didn't want to show that he had fallen for the princess of pop, exactly what he swore he wouldn't do since he was done with pop village. Loving her meant he would definitely have to revisit his past he tried running from, which scared him. But he finds comfort in Poppy that he was not provided in many years.

-Creek is in this AU (not much), and he and Poppy are good friends who do flirt a little, she does have a crush on him. Branch absolutely hates him, and of course, becomes a jealous that someone else is fond of the Princess.

-In this AU, Brozone was still a thing and they still broke up and went different ways. They just never contacted Branch again. Branch is very fueled by his anger and resentment, because essentially, they did abandon him and still never returned when he needed his family. (His brothers COULD return in the future, but at this point in my AU, their whereabouts are unknown)

-When Branch left Pop Village, he sort of became a wanderer until he happened upon the Rock tribe. Nobody really took him in, he just made himself at home and they accepted him. He purposely kept his distance from some trolls and focused on himself. Sort of living his life on autopilot. He is still a pop troll at heart, he wouldn't have felt that Barb's plan was right either. The Rock tribe does have heavy influence on him in his personality and his appearance, but inside he is still the Branch that came from Pop.

-And again, yeah! He absolutely gets jealous still, it's a big part of his character haha.

There is so much lore and other stuff I've planned and thought out, also a lot of points I excluded because I don't want to reveal them yet. But I can't wait to make some mini comics sowing som of these scenes :)

[ecoterrorist-katara]

hello hello! can i just say, i love your takes so much. it feels like you’ve read my mind on how katara would actually react in certain situations. currently myself, im rewriting the structure of the show in a way that makes more sense (aka, getting rid of kataang altogether and focusing on actual growth for each character including aang!) and im struggling a bit on aang actually!

we know how brykke basically stunted aang’s growth because of their weirdness. but what if aang never had a crush on katara? what if he sees katara as the big sister he always wanted instead, making their relationship more wholesome than weird? i think he’s such a centralized character, but when i develop the others beyond the show, aang feels like he’s left behind.

maybe that’s part of it too! he is a boy out of time, and now more of a concept than a person as far as anyone else outside of his immediate group knows. in this au where i intend to age everyone up, i’m just curious to see what kind of man aang would grow up into if his motivations for katara was never there. i see him as trying to hold onto his lost childhood and then having to come to terms with the fact he can’t. but i’d love to hear your thoughts. who is aang outside of that? his journey has the opportunity to be so fascinating, but brykke kind of said hey! let’s not get into that! let’s make him a creepy god boy who gets whatever he wants!

(also to note, this version of aang is meant to be with azula and while i love the meta ive seen about taang i do personally hc her as a lesbian but i do like them but yeah!)

also sorry if this is too rambly i’m just very excited!

hi! This is such a nice message, and please never apologize for rambling! My blog is a safe space for all ramblers. Your fic sounds like a very exciting project!

I definitely agree with you that he’d try to hold onto his childhood & have a hard time with his grief; coming to terms with the depth of his loss would be an exceptionally interesting arc. His people were victims of genocide: his culture and his loved ones were brutally murdered. Nobody can replace that community, not even his chosen family of the Gaang, and certainly not a romantic partner.

But Aang certainly is somebody outside of all that tragedy too. I think his cheerfulness and optimism, his playfulness, his resilience, his reluctance to assume responsibility, and his prodigiousness are all important facets of his personality.

Here's my piping hot take: Aang is James Potter with a more tragic backstory and less of a cruel streak. Think about it: mischievous, funny, adventurous, brave, enjoys attention, popular, devoted to friends, prodigious, entitled when it comes to love interests, morally inflexible, dedicated to Good, can be too arrogant to recognize his own faults. We hear that James became a pretty decent guy, so there's plenty of potential for growth for Aang, especially if he doesn't get his forever girl at age twelve.

Aang has a big heart and stringent morals, but is still a bit of a trickster. Not in a malicious way, but in a “I have a zest for life way” that gives him a little bit of an edge beyond just being a sunshine boy. You can see this even in ep 1, when he sacrifices himself so that the village would be left alone, only to haul ass out of the Fire Nation ship as soon as they’re safe. You can also see it in The Great Divide, where he straight up just fabricates history lmao. Lying is not an issue for him at all, which indicates it’s not really part of his moral code.

On the other hand, he obviously feels very strongly about taking life, which indicates a black and white approach towards morality that is not uncommon in kids. I could see an older, more mature Aang being led to question his own approach to morality, particularly by someone like Zuko, who probably finds violence a lot more palatable than lying. I think there are very interesting cultural differences that can be explored here, which doesn’t necessarily mean that Aang will change his opinions, only that he’ll have greater respect for how other cultures see right and wrong, and that he can keep Air Nomad culture alive without taking on the burden of being the manifestation of that culture. He has the innate impulse to try to see the best in people, which is at odds with his black and white morals sometimes. Related to that, he really struggles with morally grey characteristics in his friends. I think that if he had a fleshed out opportunity to properly disagree with his friends, he may not necessarily change his own mind, but he might grow to value his friends' freedom of choice over imposing his own values on them, since one of the cornerstones of Air Nomad philosophy is apparently about freedom. I think his pacifist voice is an important contribution to their ragtag group of overpowered pre-teens and teens and I love it when that aspect is explored in fics.

I've seen some really good depictions of Aang-not-obsessed-with-Katara in fanfiction (Southern Lights has my favourite one; in fact it's my fave characterization of basically everyone except for Mai). I see most of his flaws as things he can grow out of, but only if he encounters difficult situations and learns to grow. Have fun with your fic, and please do share in any relevant tags once you start posting!

[great-and-small]

hey i know this is really heavy but... My pet of 13 years was put to sleep yesterday morning and I was wondering if you have any tips on handling the loss and absence of him. My whole family is struggling really hard and I would appreciate it.

Anon I have been thinking about how to answer this and what words of comfort I can offer you in this time of grief. I have held the hand of so many people through the death of their pet and still I oftentimes find myself at a loss for words. It’s something I think about a lot, so I’m sorry that this is quite long-winded.

I was driving my grandmother to a doctors appointment a few weeks ago and she was telling me about her first dog, a Boston terrier named Guppy that she’d had since she was 8 years old. She told me that during her first year in college she received an unexpected phone call from home out of the blue. In those times, phone calls were expensive and you really only got an unscheduled call when a relative or loved one had passed away. She told me that as she was walking to the room to take the call she had prayed to God that the news on the other end of the line would be the death of her own grandmother, rather than the now geriatric Guppy who had been sick for some time. It was a call about Guppy of course, and my grandma told me she’s been guilty her whole life for wishing that a family member had died instead. She told me that she was intentionally sharing this story with me because she didn’t want me to ever feel guilty if I grieve the loss of my dog more than I do her death someday. She told me that the love of a pet is something different, and losing it hurts in a different way.

This was a morbid story with a morbid sentiment (though entirely in character for my grandma) but it got me thinking about the nature of our grief for pets. They are such constants in our lives that in many ways losing them can be harder to bear than the loss of someone who matters to you in a completely different way. My grandma didn’t love her dog more than she loved her relative, it’s just a different type of grief.

Do not let anyone (including yourself) minimize your loss, because your pet was here, they were important, and your love for them mattered immensely.

So now let me say this; I am so happy that your pet was able to spend 13 years with a family that loved and treasured them. I hope for every single one of my patients to have that safety and warmth and affection, your pet was lucky to be so dearly loved. That said, here are some little things that I will recommend to people who ask me for help in dealing with the loss of their companion.

Take things one day at a time. This sounds like a cliche and maybe it is one but I found it helped me. Try not to think about the future without your pet, but focus on getting through the day, especially in the short term after the loss. Take care of yourself and your physical needs as much as you can.

Actively grieve your pet. By this I mean, dealing with grief is hard work that cannot be ignored or put aside. Rather than shying away from memories of your pet, take the time to purposefully think about them and the life they shared with you. It hurts and it sucks so much, but there is no shortcut through it.

Memorialize your pet. This can be anything, but try to find a way to honor your pet’s memory. Make a painting, or volunteer at an animal shelter for a day, donate old blankets to a vets office in your pets name, make a rock garden, buy a fruit tree and plant it somewhere, put together a photo collage of your pet. Doing little things like this helped me more than anything else when I was grieving my dog.

Talk about them. It seems so dumb but I swear it helps. Talk about what they were like when they were little, what funny things they did to make you laugh, what it meant to have them by your side through all those years. It doesn’t have to be a therapist, but find someone kind who can listen to the stories about your pet that made them who they were.

And most of all please know that someday (maybe not soon, but someday) it will hurt less. In the meantime please be kind to yourself as much as you can.

[thelaughtercafe]

Coping With Hope

Tea Type: Half and Half (Fluff and Hurt/Comfort)

Potential Triggers: No twording in this fic! This whole fic centers around creating coping strategies for issues with eating, and that negative voice in one’s head! Hope this helps someone else going through this too! ❤

Pairing: Bakugou/Reader towards the end, but other characters include Todoroki, Izuku, Ochaco, Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Shinsou!

Length: 1.3k+

Summary: You're so thankful for your friends, and they help you brainstorm strategies to help you with your issues.

A/N: Oh would you look at that? A follow up because I have no self control 🙃 This is more of a part 2 than anything to finish off the night so no twording yet! Next fic is where twording'll be more prominent. It physically killed me not to include Monoma in part 1 because if felt he didn’t fit the dynamic so there will definitely be a Shinsou/Reader/Monoma fic at some point.

“So. Now that we’ve established the issue; how do you want us to help?”

Todoroki sat across from you with you up by the pillow and the others all circled around you; crammed on top of Bakugou’s bed. 

You were still catching your breath a little, having suddenly been attacked by wiggling fingers and teasing for a solid 10 minutes. It had been overwhelming, but in the best way possible. No doubt Bakugou knew you needed a moment to not think which is the real reason he outed you. 

Cheeks still a little pink, the negative voice seemed too tickled out to have anything to say for once, apparently tuckered out. 

“Well…”

You nibbled your bottom lip, trying to think. 

“Maybe you guys can remind me to eat, gently?”

You fidgeted uncomfortably, shyly playing with your fingers. 

“If you ask me directly I may get defensive or anxious; the only one of you I’d say who could effectively get through to me like that is Bakugou, and Todoroki.”

“Me and Bakugou?”

Todoroki seemed surprised and almost offended and you hid a smile behind your hand as you nodded. 

“Yeah. See, Bakugou is gonna be the type to shove a cereal bar in my hand and if I try to protest he’s just gonna make me shut up before I spiral. He’ll have me eating before I have time to think about it. Whereas I could see you also giving me small snacks and such, but you have a much subtler way about you of…hm…how do I explain? Like making me go quiet and shy and just doing as asked? I guess intimidated is the right word but good intimidated if that makes sense?”

He snickered under his breath at that, making you look up as you blushed. He reached over and patted your head, affectionately.

“Uh-huh. I get what you mean cutie. That’s fine.”

You tried to move on to cope with your face burning and nodded. 

“Th-thanks! Okay um…also not treating me like different? I don’t mind subtle gestures and well-" 

You started shyly fidgeting again, eyes flicking to the mattress as you swallowed shyly. 

"Affection and physical contact could be a good way to help condition and reward me I think. I kinda forgot how touch starved I was till confronted with it and then I realized how nice it is so-but if that’s weird don’t-”

“Oh we are on it!!”

You giggled as Kaminari near tackled you before cuddling up to your side and nuzzling into your neck. tickling you slightly as you squirmed before giving up and leaning against him. Okay, admittedly that felt really nice. 

“Hey save some for us Nari no fair!!”

Uraraka pouted and made grabby hands at you as Shinsou began carding his fingers through your hair again quietly, making you melt all the more into the boy behind you.  

Bakugou snorted. 

“You really do remind me of a cat sometimes you know that? Gonna start calling you kitten.”

Your eyes popped open at that as you blushed. 

“Don’t you dare hotshot. I can think of much worse nicknames given time.”

He leered at you playfully. 

“I’m not too worried kitten~ guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes but hummed as you tried to think. Was there really anything else?

“What about when you spiral?”

Deku’s voice was kind but concerned and you stiffened a little against Kaminari before shaking your head at him. 

“Trust me; you don’t want to hear what the voice in my head shouts at me. I deal better with spirals alone. Better I break down alone, cope with it and then move on.”

He frowned at that. 

“But… you have us now. Don’t you want us to help ground you and remind you it’s not true? Kachaan used to help me with my anxiety attacks by doing that.”

You bit your lip, hesitantly but nodded. 

“I mean…I can try it. But no promises I won’t run away or something when I get overwhelmed. I get scared of having my emotions negatively affect you guys.”

“Well we’re still here and fine aren’t we?”

Kirishima piped up with a smile that made you relax again with a nod, as Izuku continued.

“Well it should definitely be an intimate group then so you don’t feel too overwhelmed. Me, and either Kirishima or Bakugou depending on who’s available…is there anyone else you think who would help?”

“If she’s not around you guys, Monoma and I can handle it.”

Shinsou spoke suddenly making you turn to angle your head towards him. 

“Are you sure?”

You knew Shinsou also struggled with spirals so you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

He nodded, determination clear in his eyes. 

“Mm. Yeah. And I’m sure Monoma will want to help too. He’s surprisingly good at calming people down. Who would’ve guessed him never shutting up could be useful, right?”

An amused smirk tugged at his lips that you mirrored and you nodded. 

“Okay then.”

“Ooh, ooh what about me?”

Ashido raised her hand and bounced in place a little, a grin evident as she looked eager. 

“I’m honestly kind of at a loss for more ideas-”

“Oh I got one!”

Kaminari leaned his head on your shoulder, his arms wrapped comfortably around your middle as he grinned at Ashido. 

“You like to cook right? Why don’t you make her lunches?”

You waved your hands quickly in denial at that. 

“Wha-? No no that’s okay!! I don’t want to waste ingredients or what if I can’t eat it all that day or-”

Shinsou’s utterance of your name made you freeze again and once you’d met his gaze he gave you an amused smile. 

“Breathe.”

You did so as Ashido smiled gently and put your worries at ease.

“Well I always buy too much anyway honestly. I make Kaminari’s, Jirou’s and occasionally Todoroki’s too on top of my own so if anything you’ll be helping me out! As for if you’re having trouble eating it all… I’m sure one of the boys will be ecstatic over extra food; so that way you don’t have to feel bad if it gets too hard! Sound good? Oh!”

She laughed in surprise as you hopped across the bed out of Kami’s grip who whined at the loss to hug her in answer, rubbing your back. 

At your mumbled thanks she hummed in acknowledgement. 

When you finally sat back, looking misty eyed and nervous as you glanced towards Bakugou the others knew it was time to go and began making their way out over the next several minutes as you got up to wish them well and thank them for being such great friends. 

Eventually, only Bakugou and you remained, peaceful silence between you two as you tiredly leaned against his shoulder, both of your backs against the pillows as you rested. 

Eventually, after a while, you spoke up quietly. 

“…Is it bad that I’m scared? Now that everyone knows I just…I’m worried I’ll let them down.”

You felt rather than heard him sigh and he moved to wrap the arm you’d been leaning against around your shoulders, his other hand supporting his head as he looked at the ceiling in contemplation and then answered. 

“I think…it’s perfectly normal to be afraid. Even All Might has fear, ya know? But as long as we make an effort every day to fight against that fear. Then I think we’ll also be a little better every day. That’s how I choose to think of it anyway.”

A genuine smile had bloomed across your face at that and you sighed into his neck, the elevated warmth his body provided immensely comforting and disarming.

“You’re gonna make such an amazing hero one day Bakugou. You’re already one person’s. I’m so lucky you found me.”

Your eyed had slipped shut so you missed the way his cheeks flamed though his eyes filled with pride, his grip tightening just enough to make you feel completely protective. The peck to the top of your head was quick but lingered enough to ensure you felt it. 

If you hadn’t already been starting to drift into dreamland, you surely would’ve noticed the thickness in your best friend’s voice as he murmured. 

“Go to bed, kitten. You’ve had a long day today.”

If only you knew you weren’t the only one who felt saved. 

[bropunzeling]

Since you say you love to chatter, I hope you don't mind being asked a few questions :)

what's a scene/detail/piece of dialogue etc that you really wanted to include in [fic of your choice], but you couldn't find room for? here's your chance!

if you had to write an epilogue (or sequel!) to any of your fics (that you are NOT currently planning on writing an epilogue for), which would it be and what would happen?

for the ships you're currently writing about (and have written for in general), is there usually one character you like more than the other? (will you tell us who? has it ever changed?)

what's a ship/fic idea you want to read about but don't want to write yourself? maybe somebody will be inspired!

share anything you'd like about a wip!

aw thank you anon! especially for the opportunity to procrastinate on working on my current wip :) answers under the cut:

some dialogue that i ultimately cut from the spain scene in marriage bets where they were having tapas (originally there was going to be ALL this flirting over the tapas and then it went on too long so i got straight to the questions):

"You're not going to eat that?" "Hey, I tried it." "You're so American." "It's the texture--" "Such a wimp." "I'm sure plenty of people aren't into eating octopus." "Uh-huh."

if i had to write an epilogue or sequel:

oh gosh. i think a lot about the one where marriage bets matthew and leon get married for real for real, with suits and their families present and everything. it WOULD involve matthew finally telling brady that he was not, in fact, the first tkachuk to get married. the other one i think about is, of course, rat baby in a cup. she reigns eternal.

is there a character in a ship that i like more than the other?

i think it's hard for me to enjoy a ship where i don't actually like one side of it! that said, there are definitely characters where i find it much easier to get into their headspace than others. i've probably said this before, but leon is such a straight line thinker and so easy for me to get that for a long time it was hard for me to try and write anything from matthew pov because his is a little more twisty-turny. they're both equally complex! but it requires different skills to get the effect i want, which is normally the pov character not having a clue what the other one is thinking. it's a lot easier to have leon misreading matthew than the other way around. except now of course i've written a lot from matthew pov so finding my way back to leon pov has been a challenge.

a ship/fic i want to read but don't want to write:

god what DON'T i want to read. lmao. i would love for someone to write a good achy jamie/trevor post-trade fic. i would love for someone to write a long slow friends-to-lovers matthew/sasha fic! i would REALLY love a brady/quinn future fic. especially if it features divorced brady. i feel like future fic especially is a trope/concept that i just feel less comfortable writing so whenever someone else writes it i eat it up with a spoon :)

share anything you like about a wip:

well the wip is going SO SLOW and is VERY HARD for me because im challenging myself by writing a slow burn and cant rely on sex scenes to do the chemistry work for me this time rip rip. but here is a wee snippet:

“Draisaitl. Tkachuk,” Coach says, gesturing at the starting line.

Leon gets ready, bracing his stick over his thighs. He’s already raced Jordan and Gourde—beat Jordan, beat Gourde—but he hasn’t had to go against Tkachuk yet. Hasn’t had to do much of anything with Tkachuk yet. Yesterday they were at the other end of the line from each other, or opposite sides of the rink. It had lulled Leon into a false sense of security.

Now, though, Tkachuk is watching him with that way that he has, like—

One time, while making kebabs, Leon got a splinter from the bamboo skewer under his nail. It hurt like a bitch, had him cursing for five minutes until Jenna told him to stop squirming and tweezed it out. The splinter had been miniscule, almost impossible to see, and Leon had wondered how something so tiny could be so aggravating and painful, would make him do anything just to get it to stop.

That’s how it feels when Tkachuk looks at him. How it’s always felt. Like his gaze is digging in under Leon’s skin, until Leon’s entire body is red and inflamed. It makes Leon want to scratch at his shoulders, his chest, until he can finally tear Tkachuk out.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #173

I decided that today is another day of resting, mostly because I have a video game to play with M, at least for now. We played more Necesse, and today I actually have a picture to show you of the garden I built…

...It's actually bigger than this now; it's 5 rows wide. And soon, it will be 6 rows wide. In addition to all the crops that come from seeds, I thought to try to include the berry bushes and the trees, too. The 16 squares are, from left to right and top to bottom: sugar beets, wheat, cabbage, tomatoes, corn, rice, carrots, potatoes, eggplant, chili peppers, pumpkins, strawberries and coffee, some kind of fictional ice flower, sunflowers, some kind of fictional fire flower, and mushrooms.

...Since taking that picture, strawberries and coffee have their own separate fields. I also started a field full of some fictional cave plant, a field of onions, and a field that is half filled with blueberries, while the other half is filled with blackberries.

I still need to build spaces for the trees. So far, we have apples, bananas, coconuts, and lemons.

...And yes, I am aware that all of these fruits and vegetables grow in wildly different climates, hahaha! But games like these tend to ignore the climate factor, because otherwise it becomes too cumbersome to do anything.

The garden is a lot bigger than what my settlers need. But this just means that they'll never go hungry. And it also means that we can sell the extra for coin to buy other stuff with.

Oh right!! I should probably show you the houses I built for my settlers! Here:

...You'll notice I've got sheep and cows and little piggies, too!

Little piggies... I am reminded of a little nursery rhyme in my part of the world that parents (in my case, my grandparents) sometimes say to their children while playing with their toes; you point to each toe in order, starting with the biggest one, and you say each line for each toe:

This little piggy went to the market. This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef. This little piggy had none. And this little piggy cried, "wee, wee, wee!" all the way home!

...I wonder if you have that rhyme in your world.

Hey, Sephiroth? What kinds of nursery rhymes do the people of your world say to children, anyway? Is that even a thing in your world? And... given your own upbringing, is it something you ever experienced? Or is it maybe something you've only ever seen in passing, done by the families in the places where you were stationed? Do you know any nursery rhymes? And if you do, which ones do you like best?

I like The Itsy Bitsy Spider. And not just because I think spiders are very cute (because they ARE very cute, especially tarantulas!! everyone else is allowed to be wrong!), but because it's a lesson in persistence - behold:

The itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out! Out came the sun and dried up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider climbed up the spout again.

...That one's got a melody and a whole hand movement thing that happens. But the important bit here is that this spider is undeterred from its goal. It tried and then it failed because of forces outside of its control. And then it got right back up and tried again. The song does not tell us the result, but I like to think that it was successful the second time.

I also kinda like this one:

A-tisket, a-tasket, a green and yellow basket. I wrote a letter to my friend and on the way I dropped it, I dropped it, I dropped it, and on the way I dropped it. A little boy, he picked it up and put it in his pocket.

...I have no idea what a "tisket" or a "tasket" are. But it has a cheerful little melody. Also, I tend to drop and lose things a lot, so I guess I kind of find this one relatable, hahaha! The notion that someone might come along and pick it up and return it to me later is kind of nice.

You know what, Sephiroth? If any of these letters get "dropped" somehow on their way to you, I don't mind if a little boy picks them up and puts them in his pocket for a bit of courage and strength - especially if that little boy is you. Maybe if you like what I write to you, then you can somehow send them along to your past self; even with Glenn and Matt and Lucia, he still seems a little lonely, doesn't he?

Well anyway. It becomes late, and I've not done a whole lot today, so I suppose I should stop writing here before I start rambling.

I love you. Please try to imitate the persistent spider from the little rhyme and rise up from your knees every time you fall down. And if you need a hand up, mine will always be here, waiting for you to take it.

Please stay safe out there. Please make good, kind, and gentle choices. I'll write to you again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[dandeliicnsarchiived]

🚩🚩🚩

send me a 🚩 and i'll share my unpopular rpc opinions and hot takes. bonus points if you include a specific topic to talk about, like follower count, softblocking, graphics, etc. // accepting

Aesthetic vs Writing: I don't see this a lot but I think it needs to be addressed. And I wanna say this is NOT directed at anyone this is simply based off of OLD rpc days that sometimes hit me from time to time. I really hated when writers would be ignored for not having the prettiest of graphics, themes, icons or even url names. I've met some amazing writers who have had bare bones of everything, didn't do formatting and they were often ignored because they weren't aesthetic enough. Just because someone doesn't wanna spend hours trying to make things pretty does not mean that they're bad writers. It's the biggest example of don't judge a book by its cover - actually take the time to get them, learn about their characters and then make a decision if you feel their characters are right for you. Yes aesthetics are attractive but I hate it when it's a deal breaker.

Taking things too seriously: I've been made aware and experienced writers that took things too seriously when it came to writing. Yes, do the research, explain the lore, but understand that you don't own concepts unless youre building from the ground up. Example; I do not own the ideas and concepts of the abilities that my characters have. I often credit where I got the base from and make the necessary changes that fit my lore. If someone had similar concepts you won't see me throwing a rage a fit because someone decided to have their oc have similar abilities as mine. I do not own electricity and fire manipulation. I do not own witch craft AND I SURE AS HELL DON’T OWN WEREWOLF/VAMPIRE HYBRIDS; therefore, I will never been upset if someone has the same things as me. What I'd most likely be upset about is if someone took headcanons that are 95% based off my life experiences/journey through life and applied it to their characters. Example being; my "living with depression" headcanon - the system that Rosalie has to keep herself grounded is the same system I have in order to deal with my adjustment disorder that amplifies my depression. How Rosalie doesn't want to burden people with her depressive episodes is so how I personally act with my loved ones so im not a burden to them. What I do NOT own is the mental illness of depression. It looks different on EVERYONE who has it. We all have our systems to keep us alive. Now, if someone was to come to me and say "hey your headcanon about depression really hit home for me; I'd like to use that as a base for my character because I haven't really thought in detail about how they deal with" THATS COMPLETELY FINE because yknow maybe im not the first person to come up with that system! I encourage people to come to me if people feel like my writing resonates with them and inspires them to think a little deeper. I at most want the respect of asking me or letting me know what their thought process is so I don't assume and get annoyed for no reason. This is a big world but small all the same, we can share, we can inspire but we can't do is take ownership of a concept that has more than enough resources that everyone can use to manipulate in their own way. Also give credit where credit is due- but don't work yourself up over it too much.

Blocking/Softblocking: now I wanna put out there that I RESPECT everyone's rules and understand that they don't owe ANYONE an explanation as to why they choose to block someone/soft block someone. However, HOWEVER; That isn't for me. As someone who has made mistakes in the past and is TERRFIED of doing them again, I'd at least like a heads up and in return I'd so the same to someone else if they upset me in anyway. I don't need the nitty gritty but at least let me know what I did wrong to upset you. The Army taught me to take constructive criticism and that PERCEPTION IS THE REALITY. You perceive that I am disrespecting you, that is YOUR reality, I have no right in telling you that you're wrong. You are ENTITLED to your emotions, and I respect that. On the other hand, I am not a perfect person- I can word things wrong, I can misinterpret conversations and social cues. I want to be educated on how to be BETTER. I can take a grilling, I can take being raked against the coals. You got the evidence? Shiiitt, if it looks wrong, sounds wrong, ITS WRONG. Please give me the opportunity to learn from it; maybe I forced a ship too hard bc I was too excited for the potential dynamic(friendships included in this). Maybe I forgot to tag something that I didn't seem that was triggering and for you it was! I won't ever beg someone to give me another chance, but I will ask on ways to improve so I don't screw over the next person. The last thing I want is to ruin an experience for someone, I did it once and I'll try like hell to not do it again. I won't beg for someone to stay around, you are entitled to your safety and mental wellbeing online. I just personally like to learn from the experience because maybe others like you feel the same way and you could be speaking for them. As much as I say I don't take things too seriously, I take these writing shenanigans as a hobby and have fun; I do take mental health and emotional health very seriously to every writer behind the screen. I don't know what you're going through, I am not you. The very least i can do is listen to understand and fix whatever mistakes I've made and make sure they don't happen again. Also to anyone who has rp'd with me in the recent years, and I've done something to wrong you, I deeply apologize and I hope I didn't ruin an experience for you.

[lunarsands]

ALSMP Fanfic: Along The Roads To Sanctuary Ch 2

Bonus also Empires SMP S2 fanfic! I just didn’t want to make the title field too long ^_^;

Characters: PearlescentMoon, Scott Smajor, MythicalSausage, Eddie the Rabbit, Joel Smallishbeans, Bubbles the Dog, Empires Hermes, mentions of other Empires S2 characters, including a certain misplaced warlock… Sausage Supreme

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor

Tags: Canon Divergent, fictional religion, scosage, Afterlife SMP meets Empires SMP S2 but in an AU way

Warnings: violence, surrealism via magic auras, humorous misunderstandings about infidelity (tfw your husband cheats on you…with you), kidnapping (although we know how that went in canon)

(Sequel to Echoing Through To You, When The Skies Cry, Until The Blood Moon Descends, Then We’ll Rewrite The Stars, Wherever These Flowers May Grow)

Summary: A happily ever afterlife is interrupted by the distant past; Sausage receives another calling and is sent into a different mortal world from their old one, with Scott insisting on following so they won’t be separated. They both lead brand new lives but only Scott regains memories of the previous one on his own, and he isn’t allowed to remind Sausage about any of it without jeopardizing the mission the angel was sent to complete – a mission someone else was supposed to have dealt with.

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Chapter One ]

---

Chapter Two

Elsewhere in the world, Sausage was pushing his way through thick stands of bamboo, trying to keep sights on a small child that had pale yellow hair with a purple streak down the middle, giggling as they ran. Bubbles the interdimensional yorkie was also in pursuit, although maybe she was adding to the child’s mischievous running.

“Hermes! Slow down! I’m a bit bigger than you, you know! I can’t fit through here that easily!”

They were going a little too far outside of Sanctuary for his liking. Even though he had plenty more construction planned, a border would still remain after a certain distance. Natural camouflage was also a safety precaution. Dangers were still out there from his old home.

Just because he had formed an odd co-parent relationship out of the blue with the local god didn’t mean he himself was under divine protection.

Sausage stopped to catch his breath, muttering, “Joel, why did you make this kid the equivalent of a hyperactive toddler instead of an actual infant so there wouldn’t have to be so much running?!” He set off at a jog then realized he had actually lost sight of both Hermes and Bubbles. He sighed in exasperation. “Hey, Thunder Daddy! Answer my prayer and help me find our son!”

There was a boom of thunder. In a flash of light, the towering weather god appeared …in the middle of a cluster of bamboo. “Oh gosh – Sausage! I told you to be out in the open when you called me. How are you having this much trouble keeping up with one child?”

Sausage feigned leaning over from exhaustion, hands on his legs as if he was worn out and still out of breath. Then he lifted his head and grinned. “I’m not really having that much trouble, I just wanted to see if you would respond this time!”

“Right, right. Well, where is he, then?” Joel cast a doubtful glance at the bamboo and vine-covered trees.

“Around here somewhere. Can’t you sense their demigod energy?”

“That would be cheating.”

“Wasn’t this all your idea?”

“I thought it was yours. You were the one who said you missed having a family.”

“I said I was missing my family, as in, I didn’t know where they were!”

“Well, now our child seems to be missing, so, let’s go. Where did you last see them?”

“This way, I think.” Sausage looked around for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Bubbles! Where’d you go, girl?”

“Sausage, why didn’t you say the dog was with them? He’s perfectly safe with her around.”

A bark answered from the other side of a rock outcropping. Joel gave the human an annoyed look and put out an arm to stop him, taking the lead instead and heading past yet another stand of bamboo. Sausage shrugged then followed, running his hand over the surface of the rock on the way. He paused when he felt a series of bumps and grooves. Then he heard Joel chatting to Hermes from the other side of the bamboo and knew it was all right to let himself be distracted.

He took a step back and tilted his head, studying the rock face. “Hey, this is kind of cool! Looks like there’s an actual carving here! It’s really worn… Must be centuries old.” He reached up and ran his hand across the topmost part of it. There appeared to be two different figures, although they were standing close together. He touched the face of the one on the right, trying to make out more of the details.

“Could be,” Joel replied, not sounding very interested. He lifted Hermes and put them on his shoulders, then wandered over. “There are relics of the past all over the place. Who knows who actually made them.”

“Well, you’re a god. Weren’t you paying attention for the past, I don’t know, half millennium?”

“I told you already – big fight amongst the gods, chunks of time gone missing, new legends of ancient history springing up, me crawling out of the metaphorical wreckage not remembering most of it. Plus, I’m specifically a weather god. Someone else was, like, the patron of artists. They might know. If they were still around.”

Hermes began to lean forward over Joel’s head making grabby hands at something beyond the outcropping. Joel ducked around it and chuckled. “Like whoever planted these things. There’s even a little sign. Apparently, someone thought to repaint that but didn’t bother preserving the carving.”

The thing that had caught Hermes’ attention was a small patch of flowers surrounded by a border of round stones. One type of flower was white with silvery edges to the petals, of which there were six main ones with smaller, feathery ones in between. The others were dark blue with a dusting of gold along the petals. Hermes continued to reach toward them until Joel put him down and let the child inspect the blossoms.

Sausage gazed at the flowers in fascination as well. “Wow… I’ve never seen anything like these before! And I’ve got Sanctuary’s magic creating all sorts of things all the time!”

Joel attempted to hunch over enough to read the sign. Then he simply plucked it from the ground to hold it closer to his face. “Hmm, maybe the paint isn’t so well-maintained, after all. Something something ‘seen nowhere else in the world’ something ‘memorial to two lovers’ something something ‘a sign of your own eternal dedication’…” He stuck the sign back in the ground. Then he gave a start. “Hey, Hermes, don’t break any of—”

He was too late, as the child snapped one of the stems of a white flower. Hermes stared at it for a second, then smiled and held it out to Sausage, who smiled back and knelt to accept it, then tucked it into his hair above his right ear. “Thank you, Hermes. It’s very lovely.” Sausage then picked one of the blue flowers and helped the child affix it in their hair. “Which one do you want to give to Thunder Daddy?”

“Ah, no, I’ll… pass…” Joel trailed off as Sausage looked up at him; something about the sight of the white flower, in that particular spot in his hair, struck Joel as familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He had seen Sausage with a hibiscus blossom in his hair before, so it wasn’t the flower in general doing it.

Hermes tugged on Sausage’s hand, drawing his attention back down, and the odd feeling slipped away from Joel’s mind. “Oh, you’re right, Hermes! The gold! How silly of me to forget! I didn’t really need to ask, huh?”

.

With a promise to Hermes to tidy up the area and make a path out from Sanctuary to the patch of unique flowers, Sausage took his leave to get some lumber work done while Joel brought the child back to Stratos with him.  First Sausage checked inventory at the warehouse, making a list of what was running low, then went over orders that had come in via messengers.

Not wanting to ruin the flower Hermes had gifted him, he took an empty potion bottle – perfect for holding a single blossom – and filled it with plain water then carefully set the flower into it. The stem had, admittedly, ended up a bit too short to be sustained for long, but Hermes meant well. Sausage would merely have to top off the water often. He placed it on the windowsill of the bakery so he could look at it whenever he had a break for a snack. Then he grabbed an ax and got to work.

Within a couple of days, he had refilled the lumber yard as well as gotten all of his orders completed. He prepared to head out with a set of neatly organized shulker boxes for a trip around the empires that was planned out so he would reach Stratos’ region last and pick up Hermes.

However, just as he was about to leave, he heard Bubbles barking and growling. He hastily followed the sound to the small dock where he had first arrived in what would become Sanctuary. “What is it, girl? What did you see, or scent – or whichever?”

The small yorkie was bristling and she barked a warning toward a patch of reeds near the water’s edge.

“You thought you saw someone suspicious over there? Someone who… looked like they were trying to scout out the place? Are you sure it wasn’t a friend from home just trying to find us?”

Bubbles barked then whined.

“You think it was someone trying to find us who wasn’t a friend. Got it…” Sausage frowned in worry. They had fled as far as possible, yet with the hopes of being reachable if their actual friends and family came looking for a safe haven. Of course, it would be inevitable that the king’s assassins might follow any scrap of a lead they caught wind of. His hope had been that by the time that happened, Sanctuary would be built up into not just a new home but a defensible land where the tyrant would find himself powerless and unable to steal any more magic.

Sausage and Bubbles made a circuit around the area to hunt for signs of intruders, but came up empty. He made one last check from the air as he took off to begin his deliveries. He didn’t see anything suspicious for the moment.

~*~

By the time Sausage reached the end of his route, the weather had turned, making for a rain-soaked landing in Chromia. He hurried along the paths, looking for a good place to take shelter while calling out to also try to locate the colorful ruler. “Scooottttt! Scott! Are you hooomme?? It’s a little wet out here! Sorry if I ruin anything, but I need to get inside somewhere!”

He finally figured that the tavern was his best option, since other travelers would be tracking in mud and dust from the road, anyway. Just as he pushed the door open – and got a side-eyed look from the llama stationed inside – he heard Scott’s voice behind him.

“Sausage! Sorry, I was in the middle of something when I heard you. Go on in, you can dry off in there.” Scott jogged through the door after him, considerably less soggy since he had recently been inside a different building. “Let me get you a towel. Owen, why isn’t the fireplace lit on a day like this?”

The llama snorted and turned its back on them.

Scott sighed in exasperation. “You’re rubbish at this. I’ll give the job to someone else at this rate.”

“I think I can manage to get a fire going on my own,” Sausage offered with a chuckle.

“Just don’t use any of that wood I ordered,” Scott joked. “That’s for building, not to be tossed away lightly.”

“Or be lit alight,” Sausage quipped.

Scott returned with a towel and bathrobe taken from one of the rooms just as Sausage, facing the now blazing fireplace, was pulling his drenched shirt up over his head. An unintentional noise left Scott’s throat as his left eye’s magic activated and revealed something he hadn’t seen up until that moment.

Sausage heard and turned, now holding his shirt out toward the fire to start it drying, a playful little smirk on his face. “Hm, you’re not used to seeing me from the back – the marks, right? Don’t worry. I know they look bad, but I’ve had them my whole life.”

Scott uttered another noise, having to stop himself from saying no, not those, although the implications from the first part of what he said nearly made him blush. The marks in question were six vertical blotches, the lowest pair mostly covered by his waistband. The sight honestly made Scott’s stomach queasy for a split second, making him think of scars from something removed; but what was actually before his eyes – the left eye, of course, giving feedback to his brain to see with both – were the glowing outlines of six feathered wings, each pair a different size. He blinked and they faded to a mere subtle aura.

“Ah – um,” Scott stammered. “Right. Just birthmarks. Sorry, I… Yeah, I hadn’t noticed them before. I was always too busy looking at your handsome face.”

Sausage leaned over to spread his shirt out on the hearth in front of the fireplace, then looked over his shoulder and winked. “Just my face, huh?”

Scott rustled up a flirtatious smile. “Well, it is easy to get caught up gazing into a pair of lovely blue eyes, you know…” He crossed the room and pushed the towel into Sausage’s hands. “Why don’t I get us something to drink while you dry off? The rain seems like it will keep up for a while, so we might as well relax for a bit and chat.”

“That sounds like a great idea! I have to pick up Hermes before I go back to Sanctuary, but I don’t think another hour or two will matter! And we can find something to do to wait out the weather if it lasts longer...”

Scott went off to the kitchen without adding any thoughts to Sausage’s hints, also avoiding any further glimpses of him as he changed out of the rest of his wet clothes into the robe.

.

The ruler of Chromia returned with a pitcher of pink lemonade and a plate of cookies, which he put on one of the tables next to the fireplace. He poured a glass for each of them, then sat for what turned into a gossip session, since the Protector of Sanctuary wasn’t much one for protecting other people’s secrets, it seemed. The irony was not lost on Scott, who smiled absently when he caught his own gaze drifting to the faint aura of Sausage’s top pair of wings.

After a while Sausage went quiet and munched on a cookie while apparently contemplating the far wall. He glanced toward the fireplace as if to check if his clothes were dry, then attempted to be casual about sipping his second glass of lemonade before asking, “Say, uh… Have you happened to have seen any suspicious strangers around? Not just, like, wandering travelers, but like… y’know, anyone acting a little weird and maybe… entrometido? Uhm, nosy?”

“Nosy as in looking for gossip?” Scott teased, but inside he felt wary.

“Not like that! Come on, now! I’m serious!”

“Sorry. There hasn’t been anyone that I’ve noticed. Why?”

“Well… you see… I, um…” Sausage then blurted out, “I might have assassins coming after me for something that happened in the kingdom where I used to live. I didn’t commit any actual crimes, I swear!” He hastily lowered his voice and hissed, “But the king wanted everyone who had any magical abilities to be hunted down! And Bubbles thought she saw someone earlier today, so I just want to make sure no one else has seen anyone snooping around!”

“That’s pretty serious.” Scott tried to keep his voice even, and took a sip of lemonade to give himself time to think. Why hadn’t Pearl mentioned that detail to him? Well, probably to keep him from rushing off to be even more protective over Sausage.

“Yeah, I, um. I was hoping I’d gone far enough that no one could track me down. But word is getting out that Sanctuary exists. I mean, I hoped it would, so that my surviving friends from back then could make their way to it and reunite somewhere safe, but without the magic part reaching the king’s ears.” Sausage pushed the glass back and forth between his hands, then pressed them against it and looked down at the table top. “Sorry. I suppose our relationship isn’t really the type for heavy stuff like that. F-Forget I mentioned it, we’ll go back to, uh, occasional visits for wood delivery. Thanks for the lemonade and warm fire this time around, though.”

He offered a smile then got up and gathered his mostly-dry clothes. He retreated to one of the rooms to change back into them, leaving Scott to wonder if he had been being too distant this entire time to avoid triggering Sausage’s memory. He slugged back the rest of his lemonade, then hastily cleaned up everything to bring it to the kitchen.

He was checking over his patchwork elytra when Sausage emerged. The Protector of Sanctuary raised an eyebrow. “Are you heading out, too? Was I keeping you from something?”

“No, I just thought I’d take a little flight over to Stratos with you and say hi to Hermes before you two go.” Scott smiled cheerfully. “Not a lot of children around here, you know, so I wouldn’t mind seeing how Hermes is doing. I’ve mostly just got llamas for company.”

“Oh… uh, if that’s what you want to do! I’m sure Joel won’t mind! He’s usually not around when I drop off or pick up Hermes. Must be doing important godly stuff somewhere, I guess!”

They headed out under still-overcast skies, but at least the rain had stopped. It was a very short flight to Stratos, and as Sausage had predicted, Joel was absent, and meanwhile Hermes was waiting just inside a doorway. They ran out when they saw Sausage, who scooped the little demigod up into his arms. “Hermes! Hi! Sorry if I kept you waiting! Thunder Daddy wasn’t paying attention to that storm, was he?”

Scott found himself staring yet again when he caught sight of a dark blue flower in the child’s pale hair. He shook his head, glad Sausage hadn’t witnessed his reaction. “Hello, Hermes. That’s a beautiful flower you have there. Is that something your… Daddy Joel came up with? I see that gold on there – that’s his kind of thing, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no, Joel didn’t know about them, either!” Sausage said blithely. “That’s one of the flowers we found outside Sanctuary, right, Hermes? You discovered them first! Maybe you could come up with names for them!”

“Huh,” Scott feigned nonchalance. “Well, bold of you to have a variety of flower that I don’t already have in Chromia. Do you mind showing me? Or is this a little secret between just you guys?” He leaned over to wink at Hermes.

Hermes didn’t offer an opinion, but waved a hand in front of Scott’s left eye.

Scott blinked and wondered if the silent demigod child could sense something that neither of his parents had picked up on. Of course, Scott’s eye wasn’t revealing anything about Hermes at the moment, despite how the aura around Sausage’s angelic wings was still present, if not dimmed by the sunlight as the clouds began to move off.

“Actually,” Sausage said thoughtfully, “Maybe since you’re so familiar with flowers, you could identify the other one. I mean, even if you don’t know what this one is.”

“I might have an idea, now that you mention it, but a closer look at the leaves could help,” Scott lied. He bit back an extra comment about seeing the flowers at nightfall. That might happen by coincidence.

“Okay then! Um, there’s only a small patch of them, so I might have to ask you to not try to uproot any to take back with you.”

“That’s fine. I could always come by for another visit to study them again later.”

“Huh… You haven’t been by very often, have you? But then again, you can always count on me to make deliveries.” Sausage smiled. “But you should still visit more often. We’re a colorful place, too!”

“Believe me, I’m definitely considering it.”

.

A small bit of travel later and Sausage had gotten Hermes settled in his room, then, after an offhand comment from Scott about the presence of a Warden when they passed by Dolores’ cave, he led the Chromian on a stroll out to where the flowers had been found.

Scott was coming to realize that he needed to be constantly aware of new revelations about this world that might shock him to silence. He pretended to be in awe of the beautiful flowers, but what had grabbed his attention first was the rock outcropping with its weathered relief of two figures. Two florans. Two faces and other features that he knew the details of even if they had been eroded by the elements. He was almost grateful it wasn’t closer to what might have been its original condition, because it might have risked triggering Sausage’s memory.

And meanwhile, he himself had realized the patch of flowers was a result of he and Sausage dying in that very spot however many hundreds of years ago in this world’s past. It was fascinating to think about how their missions could involve different points of time in the same world.

“I guess this was someone’s special spot, somewhere in the past,” Scott finally managed to comment, “If they went to all the trouble to include a rock carving.”

“Yeah, I asked Joel about that, since as a god you would think he had been around long enough to know about things like this, but he said he had lost a bunch of memories and figured some other god oversaw stuff like sculptures and random unique flower patches in the middle of a bamboo jungle!”

Ah, so that finally explained it, Scott thought to himself. He meandered over to the flowers. He smiled softly as he crouched down to pretend to inspect them. It was nice to have a little hint of home… Then his expression turned sad as he realized how much time had passed since they had last been home together. He tried to cover it up by smirking and proclaiming, “Maybe Joel just wanted to keep such gorgeous flowers a secret. I know I would hide these away if I had discovered them in Chromia – and then I would charge people their best trades to see them, and charge double for partners, if going by this sign is anything.”

Sausage laughed, amused by the idea of Scott trying to fleece two or more people over some flowers, but then he abruptly went still as he was gripped by a waking vision. He was looking at Scott similar to how he was now, but his eyes were red. Sausage blinked and then they were gold. Then they were ocean-blue. Then one was gold and the other blue, although not in the way they were right now. Then came another change, and another. His head began to feel like it was spinning, until the vision halted upon the sight of spring-green eyes and numerous flowers in Scott’s hair.

Not just as if they were woven into a flower crown. Sausage had a sense that the flowers were growing there. The appearance of nature magic, like Sanctuary’s…

Cyan hair and flowers.

Flowers… in cyan hair.

Sausage stared hard at Scott as the vision faded out, then grabbed a blue blossom and stuck it into the Chromian’s hair over his ear.

Scott attempted to laugh lightly. “And you said I shouldn’t take any of these. What was that for? …Sausage?”

But Sausage only stared at him again.

“What is it?” Scott laughed again, nervously this time.

“Why do I know you?”

“What do you mean? You do know me – ruler of Chromia, friend of llamas, greatest dye trades in the world—”

“No,” Sausage corrected quietly, “I know you. From… somewhere else. Some… other time.”

“Ummm, no? I had literally never seen you before the day we all met up at the trade summit,” Scott lied, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest. “Do you really think I’d forget if I had? You’re quite… memorable.” He forced a flirty look onto his face.

Sausage wasn’t in the mood to humor that game. “Stop playing around. I’m serious. Look, there’s something else I haven’t told anyone yet, even Bubbles. I’ve started having all sorts of weird memories popping up in my head at random, but none of them make sense – I don’t remember experiencing any of them! It’s like I lived a dozen other lifetimes somewhere else, because they’re not from around my old home or Sanctuary!”

Scott froze. He dearly hoped the ‘dozen’ was a generalization and not specific, since he could personally account for ten of those. Maybe eleven, if he counted the time they were florans together.

“Th-this is the first time it happened so strongly around someone else. It has mostly been quick glimpses or in a dream, but both always feel so real. I just saw—”

“You know what,” Scott cut him off, forcing his tone to sound brusque, “You were right about heavy topics kind of stuff. I think you just have an overactive imagination. All I really know about you is how you like to gossip, and if this is some ploy to get me to compare hidden mysteries about my memories and past, please stop.”

“But that’s not what I meant—”

“I have to go. Take care of your flowers, and don’t go handing them out so lightly.”

Scott dearly wanted to remove the starflower and drop it at Sausage’s feet to enforce the act he was putting on, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Instead, he stalked off through the bamboo to find a clear spot to take off from. He needed to talk to Pearl. He needed to know if Sausage was supposed to be remembering things, or if this was a bad sign and he would have to intervene somehow.

~*~

Sausage stared numbly at the patch of flowers. Why did they have to spark such a weird vision – was it actually a memory of something, or just his imagination, like Scott said? Maybe… Maybe there was someone else he had known in the past and had forgotten, and maybe they only had a passing resemblance to Scott, or something…

He felt like he was missing a piece of this puzzle. He wasn’t sure how to find it… unless it was something back in his old home. He wondered if he should ask Eddie, yet at the same time didn’t want to make him or Bubbles worry. Maybe he should wait, and just keep a record of what he was seeing to try to put it all together later.

As the sun dipped toward the horizon, he realized he should get back to Hermes. When he turned, however, he saw a flicker of golden light. Similar motes appeared as the sky continued to darken. They weren’t fireflies. Too small, and the wrong color. It was coming from… the dark blue flowers.

He gazed at them wistfully. “You sure are something special. I wonder who planted you? Funny how you were here the whole time, with Sanctuary and its magic so close by. Did you guide me here? Were the magics connecting to each other, saying this is would be a safe haven? ...It’s a cool idea, but it’s probably just coincidence.”

He chuckled quietly, then sighed and started on the walk back. The range of the golden motes was limited to that area, and soon he found himself among regular green fireflies as night settled over the land. Up ahead, over the treetops, he saw a shooting star. He gave thought to making a wish, but then only gave a rueful smile. Really, all he could hope for was that Sanctuary would remain protected and safe. Wishing for his own mental turmoil to be sorted out felt a little selfish.

.

The next morning, Sausage went back to Chromia, planning to try to smooth things over with Scott. He enjoyed their casual flings, and maybe that’s all their relationship needed to be, if it continued to work for both of them. If yesterday had been too much, then he would politely make deliveries and go on his way without flirting anymore.

Speaking of being polite, he landed at the outskirts instead of intrusively flying overhead to locate him. A few extra minutes to iron out his thoughts wouldn’t hurt, either. Chromia did have such nice flower fields to wander past, after all.

It was as he was coming up on a supply shed when he heard Scott’s voice coming from the other side. Sausage hesitated and stopped to wait since it sounded like he was talking to someone else.

“Can you give me any kind of time frame? Will it really be much longer? I miss our real home. I miss my angel… I miss my husband.”

Sausage grimaced, eyes going wide, and he barely contained an alarmed squeak before pressing his back against the wall of the shed. His… what? Had he unwittingly been part of another man’s affair? Scott didn’t wear a wedding ring – that Sausage had noticed, anyway – or ever said anything about a significant other. So how was he supposed to have known??

Although, from the sound of it, maybe Scott was hiding undercover from something, too. Maybe that was why he had gotten so defensive all of a sudden yesterday. It made some sense… A sympathetic smile crossed Sausage’s face. He wouldn’t pry or hint about it, but he would still like to get past yesterday’s incident.

He snuck away, deciding to wait for a different chance to sort things out, giving Scott and whoever he was talking to the privacy to finish their own rendezvous. Besides, if Scott was concerned about reuniting with his actual husband, seeing the person he was cheating on him with – even if it was only to keep up his cover story – probably wouldn’t be the best thing at that moment.

With a wry smile, Sausage accepted that keeping up that particular part of this assumed cover story could be his favor to Scott to make up for what had happened the day before.

 [ Chapter Three ]

 [Post A/N: A certain scene in this chapter was inspired by this artwork by Cynthrey! ]

[jjm-blogspot]

Writing Tips: Advice on Character Design

Hey all, it’s been a while but I’m back with some writing tips. Today I’ll be going over things that’ll help make your characters (specifically your MC) relatable, and realistic. Let’s face it. Having a dense character not only bores readers, but it bores writers. I’ve had moments where I stared at a blank screen for hours because I didn’t know where to take the story, and it wasn’t due to my lack of ideas, it was because I didn’t know my characters well enough. Or, they weren’t interesting enough to explore.

Having dynamic characters makes for an exciting story. So to help you guys out, I’ve made a list of some things you should ask or consider when constructing characters.

Here’s what I’ve got:

1. Give your character quirks

If your character doesn’t have much going for them, give them an odd quirk to make them stand out from the rest. In my story, Sunny Mage: The Time Child (SMTTC), I’ve included little ticks for my MC, Sunny. One of her quirks is that she’s a complete slob, but somehow she can always find what she needs in the magic pouch she keeps around her waist. She also isn’t the brightest student, and tends to slack off, but has great creativity, and intuition which helps her magic abilities shine.

If you can’t come up with a quirk of your own then I’ve got a top secret way for you to find one. It’s called…Google. Crazy, right? If you’re ever stuck on something like this then just type it in the search engine. Lots of people have most likely had the same question so don’t be afraid to explore. And if you don’t find the answer there, try asking here on Tumblr or maybe check out some Reddit posts.

Take your time crafting your characters. If they feel bland then ask yourself this question: what makes them different from everyone else?

2. What’s your character’s goal?

Aside from emotions and plot, your character’s goal drives their story, and what path they will eventually take. Sometimes just knowing what your character wants is enough for you to finish a handful of scenes. As the writer you may have something planned out to go a specific way, but you’ll be surprised when your fingers start typing away into a whole new direction. It might seem scary at first, but it’s a beautiful thing when your characters start pulling the strings.

Embrace it.

3. What does your character’s clothing say about them?

This is a subtle technique which I generally love. In SMTTC, Sunny is described in the first chapter by Thomas, a hollow (someone born without magic), who she will soon befriend. He takes notice of her skewed overalls, and worn looking sneakers. Sunny is always on the move, she never sits still long, so I made sure to give her the clothes to match. She even wears track shorts under her school uniform in case she needs to break into a sprint.

Little nods like this add to your character and gives the readers a sense of who they are.

4. Give your character emotions

This can be tricky because you want to make your characters emotional without overdoing it. It’s one thing to have your character cry during a sad scene, but it’s another thing to have them cry constantly over the most silly issues (unless it relates to some kind of character development they’ll go through). So just focus on keeping a healthy balance.

If you don’t know how your character would feel in a certain scene then be sure to have an answer to these two questions:

What do they care about?

How do they react when placed in certain situations, and why?

5. Give your character flaws

This is honestly the most important thing for me, because it makes your characters not only relatable, but it also gives room for growth. I know I’m not perfect, very far from it, so I always feel drawn to those characters who are literally a complete mess. It’s so satisfying to look back on the person they were, and compare it to who they are now.

So, embrace the flaws. We’ve all got them.

~Thanks for reading.

[the-parentheticals]

i messed up, i found out

Summary: She wants to keep him safe. He doesn’t want her to do it that way.

Word count: 760

Warnings: dubiously consensual human experimentation? human experimentation makes it sound a lot worse than it actually is but it’s still kinda bad

Note: For @badthingshappenbingo​, Minor Character Death. See, to make it minor I had to make it mostly rambling about other stuff. Which includes murder but not any actual murder. Also tagging @madame-butterfly-knife​ because I recently learned she has a Tumblr.

Finally, an opportunity to just write my own OCs…

Title from “Umbilical”, MILGRAM.

read on ao3

He’d slipped into his room before anyone could notice he was missing after the trial. He didn’t need any more questions.

“Karuta-san?”

Maybe it’s too late for that. He doesn’t answer.

The paper Niko left behind after her execution was typed in the neat font that their captors had used. Like she needs more proof. She’s already screaming. There’s no better way.

HIDE KARUTA: BRAIN SURGERY

He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to think about it, even, and that one’s ridiculously easy. It’s been easy to not think, for so long.

“Karuta-san, hello?”

She’s got about a 73.2% chance of giving up if he says something. Something good.

“I’m gonna be okay!”

“Vaughan-san’s coming, and I want to explain this without him listening in, can you please just…” There’s a doorknob rattle.

Hide’s never really tested how hard these dorms are to get into. He thinks that vaguely one of the terrorists might have broken in, in their last game. Or maybe out. That’d make for a good kidnapping…

“This isn’t about Koyuki-san’s thing!” Another doorknob rattle. “Karuta-san, open the door, please!”

He opens it, and Yukiko Kuromoto tumbles in with a look of utter relief on her face.

There are bruises on her wrists, larger than the finger-shaped ones he doesn’t remember getting and never worries about.

“Yukiko…?”

She pulls her sleeves over her wrists. How did she even know he was thinking about it?

“I got my meds back from Hayashi-san’s room a long time ago, I really did. But don’t worry about me, Karuta-san.”

Her expression is strange. It pulls and pushes in a different way than before the motive.

“You should call me Hide.”

Right now, it seems like the most important thing.

“Hide.” It’s a whisper, like it’s the name of something so much more important. “You’re better than me, I know that now. So, I think, I’ll be willing to do anything for you. If there’s someone you need to get rid of…just say the word, and I’ll do it.”

He blinks up at her, making sure to take in everything in the moment. He’ll forget it. He always does.

“Do I need to spell it out?” She says it in barely a whisper. “I’ll do anything you ask of me. Mikisaki-san was wrong. You’re the best person here.”

“…why?” He’s not smart, he knows it, so why is she saying it?

“You’re brilliant. You’re the darling of Syotoyo, and nothing of what she said changes that. You’re still you. It’s just…I’d really want to know what happened. But…that’s a stupid question.”

“Don’t worry about it. After all, I’m happy now, and that’s all that matters.” He’s not quite sure who he’s saying it for. It doesn’t really matter, anyway. It’s right.

“But…you could be happier.”

“Not this way. This isn’t—"

“Do you know how valuable something like this is? I don’t think you do. You’ve got no chance of being executed, after all.”

“But I don’t want anyone dead.” He stares at her, trying to create something that would push her away, that would stop this. He likes her. He just doesn’t want her to talk about any of this.

“You probably will. Eventually. Then you won’t have to be. But, please…let me be worth something. For you, if nothing else.” She looks down, and Hide can’t help but think there’s something she’s not telling him.

“…hey, Yukiko? Whose list did you get?” He doesn’t really expect an answer.

One end of her mouth flies up, and she points a finger at herself.

“Why, the crimes of Yukiko Kuromoto herself, of course.”

She starts laughing. Not happy, but dull, like she’s lost everything she’s known. Maybe she has.

“What did you do?” It’s not scared. He can’t really be scared. He can’t really be anything.

“I did it for the wrong people, and they betrayed me. So dirty…” She laughs again, and this time there are tears in her eyes. “But you’re not, right, Hide? You’re gonna listen to this? You’re gonna do what’s best for you?”

“Can I just think about this? Please? You should know I’m not—”

“If you have to. Just don’t let anybody talk you out of this.”

She reaches into her pocket and takes out a black ribbon, then wraps it once, twice around his wrist, ending with a knot.

“Don’t forget, okay?”

He pulls his sleeve over it and wills her to go. She said Isiah was coming, didn’t she? Maybe he’ll know better.

Anyone else would know better. Even her.

[itsclydebitches]

I posted 1,791 times in 2022

358 posts created (20%)

1,433 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thequietestlilbucket

@gorgeousgalatea

@combefaerie

@kateinator

@ninjathrowingstork

I tagged 1,603 of my posts in 2022

Only 10% of my posts had no tags

#our flag means death - 259 posts

#ofmd - 255 posts

#rwby - 220 posts

#mymetas - 203 posts

#rwde - 177 posts

#videos - 127 posts

#fic things - 62 posts

#comics - 60 posts

#ted lasso - 54 posts

#gaming - 45 posts

Longest Tag: 108 characters

#and that's not even getting into woman being more active in history (including wars!) than we tend to assume

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

In honor of the Netflix show coming out soon and my enthusiastic re-read, I’d like to gift tumblr with some of my favorite Dream panels from The Absolute Sandman Vol. 1.

We’ve got:

Local Personification Gets Bread Thrown At Him By Badass, Older Sister. More at 11:00.

“Mm hmm this is my listening face. Go on, tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

See the full post

811 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

#4

Post-canon universe where Mary ends up becoming a tattoo artist.

It starts when Ed winds up visiting the Bonnet household. Maybe he went there after Stede’s “death” only to learn that the Gentleman Pirate is out looking for him. Maybe this is post-reunion and they’ve just popped by to check on the kids. Whatever the reason, Ed ends up hitting it off with Mary and is particularly enamored with her art studio because holy shit you did the lighthouse painting!

He needs a version of that on his body. Now.

And Mary is like, I’m sorry, Mr. Blackbeard sir, but the human body is a slightly different canvas from what I’m used to and I’ve never—

But Ed is already waving her off. You think pirates know what the fuck they’re doing either? Nah. You get a buddy sloshed on rum, promise him it’s gonna look great, tattoo something on his ass, and then keep out of reach when he first sees it in a shaving mirror. It looks like shit. Of course it does! But then you do it to someone else and it looks a little less shitty. Then again and again until hey, that’s some talent right there! So go to town. Can’t look any worse than what Izzy first put on his back.

By this point Ed has hopped up onto a table and pulled a kit seemingly out of nowhere. He’s also got his shirt off—this is fine—and Mary has to admit, some of his tats really are awful. Not all of them! But enough that she can precisely pick out where some drunk sailor was trying out a needle for the first time. And yeah, she could easily justify this through fear, telling herself that it’s not like she can say no to the intimidating, legendary Blackbeard. Dating Stede or not, the guy could slash her throat in an instant. Actually, dating Stede is a mark against any mental stability.

The reality though is that it isn’t fear that convinces her. Mary just looks at the spots of crappy ink and thinks, Fuck. I could do better than that.

So she does. 

Mary might not know tattooing yet, but she’s got an eye for art and she picks up the mechanics quickly. At her request Alma brings in a bottle of something far nicer than rum—casting an interested look towards the pirate that reminds Mary, with a trickle of worry, that she always was her father’s daughter—and they spend a surprisingly pleasant afternoon with Mary experimenting and Ed commenting on her paintings. Is that flower a vagina, Mary? Yes it is, god, no one else gets that!

Mary tattoos a lighthouse onto Ed’s arm, entwining it with one of his tentacles. It’s nothing fancy, but Ed leaves the Bonnet household pleased as fucking punch.

Which means, of course, that a few months later Stede shows back up (in a terrible disguise) begging her to give him his own lighthouse on the opposite arm.

Stede Bonnet, are you really asking for the symbol of our now defunct marriage after you left me, came back, came out as gay, and then had the gall to fall in love with the most dangerous pirate on the seven seas?

…Yes?

Yeah, alright, fine. Get on the table.

Mary has been practicing since she last saw Ed, discovering that she loves the permanence of tattooing—putting her art on a moving canvas; a part of someone’s very identity, not just their home. Though it’s hardly considered good form in their community, she even managed to find a tutor after promising Doug that she wouldn’t fall in love with this one. Or if she does, she’s not going to throw him over for the new guy. You should really talk to Stede’s friend Lucius, Doug. He has fantastic ideas about the whole thing.

Stede tells Mary all about their lighthouse fuckery while she works and she finds that this story is a damn bit more romantic than their awkward wedding vows. In the end, this lighthouse is far more detailed than Ed’s, with steadier lines and a bit of shading, and Mary can’t help but think that it fits their personalities quite well. Stede is so happy he forgets himself and plants an exuberant kiss on Mary’s cheek. She just laughs.

From there other members of The Revenge show up when it’s safe for them to sneak into town, all of them wanting ink from a member of their Captain’s family. Their family, now. After she’s given Jim a pair of crossed knives and Oluwande a small orange tree on his back; Frenchie a recreation of his lute and the Swede the notes of his favorite song, word starts to spread to other crews. Wherever The Revenge goes they show off their ink. Even when they don’t, Mary’s developing a style that’s noticeable in any tavern or seedy alleyway—far nicer work than what anyone else has got.

The first time an unknown pirate shows up on their doorstep in the dead of night, Mary very nearly stabs him with one of the knives Jim gifted her. She whisper-yells at the poor bastard about manners and coming during business hours, really, what is wrong with you? After a sheepish apology, she brews an obscene amount of coffee and inks a child’s portrait onto the man’s arm. It’s by far the most challenging tat she’s done to date and somewhere around 4:00am, bleary-eyed and energized, Mary thinks that she’ll never want to do anything else again.

More pirates come after that. Doug worries. Mary reassures. As a compromise, she starts taking clients while her widow group meets. The presences of nine or so women who have nothing to lose—alongside Evelyn glaring from the corner—is more than enough to keep even the toughest ruffian in line.

Which isn’t to say that every client is a good experience. Oh no. Mary learns and more importantly, she listens, figuring out which pirates have beef with an ally of The Revenge, or who would sooner sell out their own than part with a single coin. On the truly worrisome visitors, the ones who do nothing to endear themselves during the long session or any of the repeat visits, Mary adds a small flower to their designs. Just her signature, she assures them, but everyone on The Revenge knows that it’s a message: don’t trust this one, watch your back.

Most though are surprisingly pleasant to spend time with. Sweethearts just dealing with a fair bit of trauma, as her ex-husband might say. When they thank her and try to press purses into her hand, Mary just shakes her head. It’s not like she needs the money. Instead, she draws out promises that they’ll do right by The Revenge and its co-captains, should they ever cross paths. When her family visits, Mary hears many tales about the crews that unexpectedly assisted during a tough raid, offered a good deal on supplies, bought them all drinks when they came into port.

Mary is the laughingstock of the town. She’s the woman whose husband ran out on her to become a criminal and then didn’t even have the decency to stay away, instead dying in a thoroughly tactless fashion. She’s the woman who gave up a lucrative painting career to instead take up a lowlife’s art form—if it could even be called such—with all manner of scoundrels calling on her. She’ll end badly, wait and see.

Mary is beloved by the pirate community. She’s the darling of Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate, more than capable of holding her own with both. She’s the woman whose ink you want etched into your skin—always safe to visit, always compassionate, and unspeakably talented. She’ll go far, wait and see.

Of course, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Mary teaches Louis how to draw and makes Alma promise that she’ll finish her education before following her father to sea; she takes Doug to bed each night and with his encouragement visits Evelyn many afternoons. She’s happy.

Shockingly, so is everyone else. Mary isn’t entirely sure what to make of the waspish man who shows up on her doorstep one afternoon, but he’s easily recognizable based on Stede and Ed’s descriptions. Israel Hands has just three tattoos: the ace of spades to mark his time in the Navy, the swallow for a well-traveled pirate, and a lopsided cross on his cheek that Mary almost asks about, before thinking better of it.

He wants a fourth tattoo. A lighthouse on the back of his neck.

It’s been a long time since Mary first started tattooing. It’s not that she forgot about her previous lighthouses, of course not, but any additional meaning doesn’t register as she works up a design to show Izzy. After all, he’s a sailor. A pirate. Most of them want something to connect them to the sea and there are only so many objects that do that.

The placement is a bit odd though. Mary warns him that he’ll have to keep his hair short for the tattoo to show, shaving the fine hairs regularly. Izzy just grunts and mutters for her to get to it. Mary doesn’t realize the significance of him allowing her to hold a razor to his neck, in his blind-spot no less. At this point, she’s considered an extension of the only two allowed to do the same.

This lighthouse is perfect. After years of work Mary is easily able to navigate the muscles in Izzy’s neck; the thin scar that—she shivers—is just a little too close to his jugular. Mary knows how to make her art catch the eye when Izzy stands tall and how to keep it from looking absurd whenever he twists his head. She doesn’t know this man well, but Mary senses that this piece should be meticulous and detailed, not a single line out of place. So she pours everything into the image, holding Izzy steady with a grip he doesn’t flinch from.

It's only months later, when the family comes back to visit, that Mary realizes what she’s helped accomplish. Izzy stands between his two captains and from the back she sees that all the lighthouses are balanced, like the top of a nautical star.

See the full post

880 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

#3

Okay, so as the canon recedes from memory and fandom jokes take hold — la de da the world turns — I’ve seen an influx of takes that have steadily moved away from “Izzy’s tragic because this whole debacle is technically his fault (going after Stede’s hostages)” and “Izzy is sympathetic in part because he’s so bad at villain-ing” straight into serious claims of, “Wow, Izzy is just totally incompetent, huh?”

No, no, no, Izzy is terrifyingly competent.

We as a fandom need to remember our meta roots; one of the very first things ever acknowledged in the community: this is a character who has suddenly been thrust into a new genre.

For me, it’s basically the storytelling version of the “Who would win, Goku or Saitama?” question. The answer has nothing to do with power, skill, or competence and everything to do with what would be funny, because Saitama exists in a universe where, unless it’s more entertaining for him to lose, he automatically wins — always, forever, it’s the default state. That doesn’t make Goku, a guy with the power of the gods in his own universe, incompetent by any stretch of the imagination. It just means he’s suddenly been hog-tied by the rules of a new reality.

Izzy is the Goku to Stede’s Saitama.

Izzy scopes out Stede’s marooned crew (because he didn’t remember to have someone steer the boat), buys the hostages he lost, and homoerotically skillfully cuts up his shirt with hard-earned sword skills. Stede wins when Pete throws a rock.

Izzy corners Stede in the duel before he’s even realized they’ve started, hits him across the face, disarms him, and skewers him to the mast by successfully stabbing him. Stede wins because the handle of Izzy’s sword broke and there’s supposedly nothing important on the left side of the body.

Izzy is a complete asshole about chores because in his ‘real world’ a lack of munitions, or barnacles on the ship’s side, leads to death. Or at least lost raids (which they also need to afford basic supplies). Stede exists in the world where you can walk off stab wounds, find an oasis of oranges at your assassin’s church, and row straight to your lost crew without a need for anything like supplies, rest, or a map.

Pre-Stede Izzy successfully intimidates Fang, gets him to obey his commands ( “Fang!” *hiss*), and Fang admits that complaining about the abuse wouldn’t do any good. Post-Stede Fang, Lucius, Pete, Wee John, etc. can’t be intimidated because they know that here, such threats are meaningless.

Izzy manages to wrangle together Calico Jack, Spanish Jackie, and the British — three very different parties with beef against each other and him — all in an effort to get Stede executed. Stede survives because Ed pulls out a trump card that we learned about [checks notes] right now.

Stede beats Izzy again and again and again because Stede is working under the rules of the Romantic Comedy. Is it funny if Stede were to win a duel through absurd means? Yes? Then that’s what happens. Would Izzy winning here interfere with the romance between Ed and Stede? Yes? Then that can’t happen. It’s as simple as that. Unless we circle away from the stages of Epiphany (Stede’s talk with Mary) and Resolution (heading back to Ed for the presumed reunion) and Izzy becomes a more serious Obstacle to their love, everything he attempts is doomed from the get-go. Even if he were to be written as a more serious threat to the romance, the comedy inevitably obliterates any real chance he’d have. Unless OFMD doesn’t just pull lightly from other genres as it has in season one, but takes a hard turn into something new... Izzy is fighting a losing battle. He’s Goku powering up to fucking super saiyan and then being understandably confused when Stede manages to trip over his own feet, starting a Loony Toon-esque domino fall that somehow ends with Izzy K.O.’ed. How did this happen? Fuck if he knows. The logic he’s worked under all his life says it’s impossible and yet... here he lies.

Honestly, I ramble because competence is SUCH an important part of Izzy’s character. Competence is what’s allowed him to survive into his 50′s (unless he’s really 16 lol), help build the Blackbeard legend, and gain the kind of respect that has the crew (initially) jumping at his command. Izzy knows that he’s competent. His entire, prickly personality is built on being competent, particularly when competence is used as a defense mechanism. (No need to grapple with feelings when he can just kill someone.) More importantly, he knows that, under ordinary circumstances, not being competent gets you killed. He’s watching Ed trade in protective leather for lace shirts, fill up on marmalade, turn sword training into a flirting session, admire model ships instead of formulating plans — all these things that should, according to the rules Izzy has spent his entire life living by, get them all killed. We know Stede wouldn’t survive a day in the world of “real” pirates, where Izzy originally hails from. Izzy knows it too. We know Stede survives anyway because this is a rom-com and he’s the lead. But Izzy doesn’t know what genre he’s in; certainly not that the genre has changed — and fuck, if the rules of the universe changed once before, who’s to say they won’t suddenly change again? What if he wakes up one day on a frilly ship, with a useless crew, a domesticated Blackbeard, and the world is a horrifying mess of cruelty and violence again? They’d be screwed. He’s running around bitching about plans, munitions, ship speed, killing pets, formal duels, and yes, avoiding “namby-pamby” soft things because dammit of course those things matter. They always have. Yes everyone needs specific duties because otherwise the ship falls apart and they all die. What do you mean the ship isn’t falling apart while everyone eats marmalade and has gay sex? That’s not possible.

Imagine you were a crazy competent member of society according to current social norms. Maybe you’re highly educated, have a six-figure job, are meeting all the expectations for a family, you’re considered conventionally attractive, you eat well, go to the gym every day, have impressive hobbies, give to charity on the regular, maintain a thriving friend group — in every way that your peers might judge your worth within this specific social circle, you are killing it. Then you wake up one random morning and, as Badminton puts it, you’ve entered Backwards Land. People suddenly laugh at your well-balanced lunch because pff, what do you mean you’re not just eating a bucket of candy like the rest of us? Certain public displays that would have been unthinkable 24 hours ago are suddenly occurring on every street corner. You walk in to a promotion meeting with a detailed report on why your work of the last 30 years is worth recognition. The new hire suggests they have a face-paint party instead of running the company and your boss is like, “Well damn if that isn’t the best suggestion anyone’s ever given me. You’re promoted!”

What?

Izzy is fascinating in part because he’s a HYPER-COMPETENT individual who took to his toxic, violent, homophobic, highly repressed society like a duck to water, only to find one day that the rules of the universe had changed (for the better) but whoops, nothing he’s good at suddenly has a foothold anymore. You’re an expert at running a ship? Ships are just a backdrop to romance and it doesn’t matter if there’s, you know, ammunition, or whatever. Supplies — like oranges — only matter if they’re forwarding relationships. You’re an expert swordsman? Yeah, good luck winning a rigged fight where literally anything goes provided it’s funny enough (and you, as a tightly-strung rule follower, are not funny). Your entire identity is built around intimidating and executing people? The queer polycule thinks your threats are hilarious and if you strand people on a desert island their lighthouse captain will just row to them in a single scene; the guy tossed overboard will just climb into the walls and sustain himself on paper or something. You’re Alice in Wonderland except you don’t remember falling down the hole. The fact that Lucius’ cut off finger is used for a moment of (wonderfully gross) humor and he’s totally fine when he wakes up, whereas Izzy’s severed toe is more straightforwardly horrific and requires a cane, just highlight that they’re living in different genres. For Lucius, a severed finger is a moment of comedy (Dutch fuckery) and romance (Pete whittling him a replacement). For Izzy, a severed toe is a moment of devotion to a toxic relationship (eating it on Blackbeard’s command) and a #SeriousInjury that he literally can’t walk off. Izzy’s got the worst of both worlds at the moment: governed by his original, gritty genre and unable to circumvent or reap the rewards of the rom-com.

Which only leaves the question of whether Izzy will remain the tragic figure — but still very humorous for the viewer — who is either killed or permanently exiled due to his inability to adapt? Or will he grudgingly (oh so grudgingly) turn himself over to this new set of rules? I’m personally hoping for the latter BUT with moments here and there where the gritty drama bleeds into the rom-com; moments where things suddenly do become legitimately perilous and Izzy’s honed skills once again become necessary for survival. Like Ed who moves from the poetry-loving Edward into the murderous Kraken, Izzy has the potential to move between and/or straddle genres in some pretty entertaining ways.

930 notes - Posted May 8, 2022

#2

Season 2 concept where Stede gets up to some pirate shenanigans while trying to hunt down The Revenge, resulting in a number of WANTED posters for The Gentleman Pirate. Ed is losing his mind over the sketch of a disheveled, bearded Stede. Izzy is furiously trying to tear it out of his hands (he’s too short). Frenchie is openly sobbing that his captain is alright and apparently doing impressive pirate-y things, good for him. Meanwhile, Jim:

“That fucker is worth 700 doubloons?!? I was only 50! Oh, we’re finding him alright and I’ll show him exactly how someone earns a fucking price on their head — !” 

933 notes - Posted May 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

How fucking funny would it be if post-reunion, after everyone has settled down on The Revenge and accepted their weird found family, Izzy still pulled out the “I’m resigning, Ed!” speech every few months, like a kid marching down the end of their driveway to “run away forever, I’m definitely leaving this time, Dad!” Because he’s a supremely repressed gremlin of a man who doesn’t know how to receive validation unless he’s made a dramatic production of it via this intricate ritual. So everyone just accepts that on occasion Izzy will throw a hissy fit, passive aggressively pack up the dinghy, and Ed’s gotta go down there all, “Nooo, mate, we totally need you, don’t leave, what the fuck am I gonna do without my fearsome First Mate?🙄” Really laying it on thick so Izzy can soak up enough Toxically Approved Praise to survive another couple of weeks. Meanwhile, the crew is just watching this sad production, exchanging knowing glances. They’ve TRIED to be nice to Izzy—the whole mutiny thing was so last year, dude!—but outside of The Ritual he will straight up bite off anyone’s head who so much as tries to smile at him.

“Oh, you think I’ve got a flight or bite response? Mr. Hands earned his last name for a reason, laddie,” Buttons says while staring pointedly at Lucius’ finger. That’s obviously bullshit, but Buttons likes fucking with them on occasion. It’s great fun.

Stede’s place in The Ritual varies depending on everyone’s mood. Usually, he treats it like another fuckery production, making a big ta-do about how if Izzy really insists on leaving them—and wouldn't that be terrible? Simply terrible... right, everyone?—then he must take plenty of supplies with him and a bottle of the good brandy and this warm coat because it can get quite chilly at night, don’t you know? This allows Izzy to fly into a very cathartic rage about real pirates vs. gentry twats, leading to him oh so magnanimously deciding to stick around, if only to continue saving Ed from this dithering fool. Sometimes though Izzy has legit pissed Stede off, just like in the old days, and the crew has to run damage control to keep another duel from starting, Izzy having entirely forgotten his desire to leave under the allure of skewering Stede. That too is cathartic, but Ed tends to get tetchy when Stede stabs or is stabbed by anyone other than him.

Every once in a while Izzy will dig his heels in and actually launch the dinghy, heading towards… nothing, because we’re nowhere near land, you idiot, are we really doing this today? So the crew has got to drop everything else they’ve got going on and just… follow him. Izzy spends a couple hours angrily trying to out-row a top of the line ship while the others watch from the deck, occasionally yelling out corrections to his form: “Keep your shoulders steady—you’ll get farther away if you improve your posture.” “I know that!” They let him wear himself out and then tow him in for dinner.

One time Lucius and Pete are ~distracted~ while on the night watch and Izzy is actually able to slip away unnoticed. He's so pissed about it that he leaves in a true huff, that anger taking him all the way to the Republic. Two days later Buttons gets a seagull from Spanish Jackie basically saying that their wayward First Mate is stinking up her bar, you’d better pick him up before I kill a bitch. Ed and Stede arrive like fussy dads whose darling sent the playdate into turmoil; come along, Israel, that’s enough fun for one weekend.

Sometimes Jim is already hiding in the dinghy when Izzy tries to “escape” and the two of them spend a day talking shit, The Revenge floating nearby. Sometimes other pirates will find Izzy in random places and sternly steer him back towards the ship: “Do your parents Captains know you’re out here?” Once Izzy made the mistake of loading his get-away bag with half the strawberries put aside for a new cake and Roach very nearly took a limb in vengeance. Frenchie has a couple tunes that he only plays during The Ritual, to set the mood and all. Lucius has immortalized a number of the attempts in sketch form and slips them underneath Izzy’s door when he’s sure he’s not there to retaliate.

Years later, when all the crew have a lot more gray in their hair, Izzy flips them off and starts packing his things, same old, same old. Ed sidles up to Pete on the quarterdeck, sighing down at the display.

“Can you believe he’s still doing this?” he asks, shaking his head. “I thought he got it out of his system back on the Queen Anne.”

“Remember that time the rope broke and he lost us that dinghy?”

“Ha! I was ready to flog the bastard.”

And that’s how the crew learns that yes, Black Pete really did serve under Blackbeard holy shit.

1,206 notes - Posted May 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[jazstudios]

i think i might be just. actively- (whatever the present tense of derealization is) lol

starting to actually dawn on me that this is the only one life we'll (probably) have. the delusions ive been having are dying and im only left to quake at the sight of reality on the horizon and the fact i am so severely underprepared for everything lmao.

ive got the basic outlines out though, basically "work to give my family a good life" to make up for having to put up with me and my mistakes all throughout the years

basically- amount of shitty things they've had to put up with me because of me = the amount of good and joy they'll have in life which im gonna fight tooth and nail to give them. of course i aspire to give them even more yk, but this is the base minimum lmao. tho atp in time even that much is an uphill battle. lol

nothing feels real. right now. and aside from parents doing their normal fighting and one (mom lol) threatening to divorce/run away cuz she for some reason thinks dad cheated on her lmao?

dont worry, he didnt actually lol. this sounds like mad coping, but im being sincere when i say this lol

at first i thought it would actually kill me. ya know. this whole thing? not knowing if that day will the be the last straw for her? if that's the day when my family falls apart? then that thinking leads to "ohh but ur childhood is just a flowery experience that existed solely to you! the experience was entirely different for your family and they maybe dont even look back on those years as fondly as you do! your being delusional again, stop it" then it spirals from there lmao

ugh. idk how to phrase it lmao. this fight thing has been going for months, ya know. since like the start of this year. i hate it but what can ya do, when life gives u lemons? u shove the up ur eyeball🍋 yargg. yah

slight silver lining that came out of this though is that im getting a daily reminder that nothing in life is permanent, even your family! and that hey. sometimes love *isn't* enough. and that hey. vulnerability is scary. too scary. you can't ever trust someone with any of that, you'll never fully know someone. acknowledging your loved ones are their own people is acknowledging they can do as they please and that includes them leaving you. i say to myself this won't impact how i interact with love for the rest of my life, and it might not. it also, might. but eh whose to say

it's scary to think about. parents on the news always say they never could've guessed their kids are capable of let's say- murder, ya? they can never guess it. they don't know. no one does, i dont, you dont. you dont know if your tomorrow your mother will do something truly heinous that'll impact you negatively for the rest of your life. maybe, she doesn't mean for it to. maybe she had no choice. but, that doesn't really do much to change the effect it had on ur life yeah?

it's dumb. love will never be enough on it's own without action to back it up, but what if love is all you have? what if it's all you can give? what if holding out your heart to them, begging and pleading for them to not leave you, to please love you again, isn't enough? .

i dont know the answer. if you find out, hmu lmao.

but. idk even if i know this, i follow the same logic that damned me from the beginning. i do smth else that isn't what i know would be better for me in the long run.

long run plan: emotionally distance, i'll still be present, i'll still be hurt, but i wont die. at least. i think?

short term aka now: ive always been too emotional. too loose with my feelings, too easily attached. it sounds like im fucking flexing right now lmao but i swear im not trying to lmao. regard this whole bit with a "/derogatory" lol. i hate it. it's always lead me to make horrible horrible decisions, chase the wrong things, make nothing of myself.

it's hurt me so much but it's also the only comfort i have sometimes. comfort in fictional characters, they aren't real, but i love them. art, fantasy, anything else that isn't whats happening to me right now. ill probably like it.

it took me a while to realize how much of a stupid fucking cycle it is. how much of an addiction it is, essentially. but it's so hard to make the first fucking step forward. i easily imagine how i want to be and such, but again, delusions. lol

in my head. sometimes no time passes. sometimes stuff isn't real. sometimes technoblade didn't die (his always had a shit upload schedule lmao so it's easy, sometimes.). sometimes, i imagine, i can be myself but, better. what i imagine "a lover, artist" but someone you'd actually want to be around. ya know? not awkward. not distant. just, something that isn't me right now

sometimes i imagine i can stay how i picture it. happy, innocent, lovely and emotional. kind and friendly. i always liked pacifist route frisk who found a solution to everything, because of this lmao. even if it was impossible, instead of just accepting it gracefully and letting it remain memory of the past, sometimes i imagine getting ugly about it. barefist fighting against reality, fighting time. fighting the world. and sometimes, i imagine. it actually makes a difference. that it wasn't pointless

i don't know. im losing myself but i dont know if ive ever even knew who i was. was i ever anything more than failed expectations and concepts? i dont know. youd ask any of my old classmates who i am, and if they remember me, they might be able to tell you something. if you asked me, id have answer. a mistake, in all functionality of the word. not stretching, not dramatizing, quiet literally a bastard child and ive thought over it for months and i can safely say, if i was never conceived, that my family (tho they never would've been together) would be so, so happy in life

one half of me tears apart at this, they'd be so much happier right? but the other is the somber truth-ish that realizes the futility of it all. there'd be no point in killing myself tomorrow, ive already existed. ive already made marks and my death will have it's consequences. if i really want to repent for the sin of being born, then i should work myself to death for them. as an apology. (funny how they might not even stay together lmao, ah well i can just wire money to diff places ig if they move away lol) then after the last member of my direct family dies, i can just go find some random ditch and off myself lmao. i dont know. when I was like 12 i always planned to kill myself by 30 yk? death scared me, if god doesn't exist then where will my parents go? (i didn't really care about me lmao. im scared of the passage of time, but i welcome my eternal damnation with open arms lol) idk. aethiesm scared me. cause at that point (still do, mostly) i didnt believe in god per say. but then, there came the mortal issue, how to deal with death? at the time, i just thought that religion stemmed from the human fear of death. so people made up a god to comfort themself. i didn't blame them, how could you? reality hurts. it kills. i wish i could believe like they do. but i dont

eh whatever, i just dont think about it much. i cant picture a time where my parents will die. that they wont be there. i can see id probably spiral trying to cope, maybe die from alcoholism or smth else lol. but at point in time, it might sound a bit bad to say but once my first family member dies, i kind of hope the others follow soon. so i dont have to stick around either. typing this now, it makes me think, and thinking makes me want to claw my heart out of my chest but i dont have the capacity to feel much right now. it's like it's all blocked or heavily fogged up lol

it's hard. to remember other people. are real, ya know? is that weird to say? probably. time passes without you knowing it, i don't know. i have a lot i want to say but it's pretty much impossible to even pick out a string of words to start with

i don't know. ive loved people sure, but they're usually my friends lmao. im never sure if i really truly love them or if i just like the idea of them i have in my mind. ive loved in specific, for maybe like 2 years now lmao? not sure. there's the, do i actually like her enough to confess and risk our friendship? if i say no, is it because i dont actually like her or just cuz im 'shy' (lol)?

sometimes i imagine, idk that we lived close to each other or something, that i actually know who you are in real life, i imagine then id probably be able to distructure or solidify my, currently just random disconnected fluffy bits, of feelings lmao. idk. i love you, yeah i can say that with confidence

but is it romantic? what even is romantic love? isn't romantic love, just platonic love with extra steps? do i insist on it because i truly want to be actively in love with you or is it just the kind of love that will have to be satiated by knowing the subject of affection (in this case you lmao) is living a happy life? even if you did actually say yes, would i be able to meet the image of a 'healthy relationship' in my head? that takes communication, that takes work, i imagine i can do it but reality says otherwise lmao. idk. i love you enough to not want to do something that shitty to you. i want you to be happy, i want for you to be happy and secure and confident in your existence. i never want to see you where i am right now lmao, but i can't exactly stop it either way. it's a human experience i guess? and that's not even counting the "holy shit your being so parasocial and weird ew" i assure you the voice in my head abt this is plenty lmao.

but yeah. i love you. i'd send you flowers or even my heart if you wanted, i dont know if im joking but i dont know if i actually mean it, in the sense i dont know if im feeling the emotions i think i should be when saying something like that. i want my words to count for something, but how do i do that when i spend all my breathe trying to make up for my lack of action lmao.

but yeah, pretty much takeaway, i love you. now that i know you exist in the world, somewhere out there i dont know if i could go back to before i knew about you lol. i don't know if it's romantic or platonic, i don't know if i should pursue it or let it fade. but if you asked me take my last breathe then mail you my lungs, i probably would - let's half the shipping costs tho lmao. if you asked me to do something horrible and went against my entire sense of self, i also probably would. i dont know. the idea of it being for someone i love calms the possible thoughts of anxiety lmao. if you asked me to write you endless poetry, i probably would too, not saying it'd be good ofc but well, lol.

i'll be here, as long as you stick around. even if the day comes, you do move on with your life and this blog gets abandoned, ill still be here probably, just missing you a whole lot.

everything's confusing. everyday's its own battle and all it takes is one loss, lol.

ah well, i'll live my life loving you, i think ill be happy at least, having said this much

i love you a lot jaz, wholeheartedly i do

this entire ask is weird, feel free to leave out and not answer anything you want. dont even have to answer this if you want. answer and publish it, toss it into the void. anything's fine, im sorry i told you all this lol. idk, charades and distance and reality can only be stiffling for so long before i lost it and do something impulsive like send you this lmao. i'm not looking for your pity or sympathy, don't worry abt that part lol/genuine/lighthearted

i just. needed an outlet. i guess. haphazardly thrown together as this ask is. this is already more than i could've ever asked lmao, being able to speak all this out into the world, somewhere, to someone. thats all really

i love you so much jaz. take care, even if not that then please live to see tomorrow. i hope you have so, so many wonderful tomorrow's ahead of you. i love you

i settle with thinking about how our hypothetical relationship would probably all up burst in flames because of me LMAO. it's fun to think about. i love you, ill be here for you. im sorry im telling you all this

im severely aware of how unwarranted, weird, parasocial, delusional and arguably cruel this whole thing is. im pretty much objectifying you, i wish i knew you but that's another thing that's probably gotta have to stay in the "keep delusions inside till they die" room lol. im sorry. for all this.

i love you, im sorry i keep saying it lmao, it gets annoying and this whole thing is already bothersome enough as is. this whole thing isn't me trying to guilt trip you or anything btw, sincerely i apologize if it does come off that way.

i always said to myself "you can't claim to truly love someone, if your willing to let their wellbeing rely on risk." pretty much risking how negative this might impact your mind or mood, im sorry. im a hypocrite. i really do truly love you, i dont know why im telling you all this, im sorry jaz, i love you

please live a life you won't regret in the end, im sorry for asking you something like this.

thank you for existing in the same period as me, it's already a chance in a million. thanks also for having the anon option in your tumblr lmao, i probably would've never said any of this to you. im sorry i did, again, btw.

i love you sincerely, jaz. that much i can say, and i know ill have been honest with myself

i love you so so very much

Anon I'm not a very good comforter for things like these, I don't have a way with words even though my favourite subject is English. But let me just say this, anon.

You are an incredibly talented person, you are special to the people who love you, you are beautiful, you are kind, and most of all, you are a very loving person. You're probably one of the most romantic people I know, anon! I love your poetry, I love your use of words. I love the asks you send me every now and then and they make me extremely happy. You are worth it.

I love you anon. I love you in a way that my mom slices apples for me to eat, I love you in a way that my cousins play Roblox with me. I love you, even if it was platonic or romantic. I love you. Saying it won't mean that you're in love with them instantly, no! It's just- we love.

I wish I lived near you as well, wherever you may be. Or whoever you may be. It's okay if you won't reveal yourself, that's alright with me. As long as you are alive and well, as long as you take care of yourself, as long as you're safe- that's enough for me, anon. You love so much, and I consume all of the things you write to me, the things you say. Because I love them, because I love you.

Please be safe, take care, I love you, anon

[thefirsthogokage]

So Help Me Todd 111:

'Side Effects May Include Murder'

Where to Watch: Paramount+

Spoilers: No. And I probably went overboard on that. I'm not sure I can find the proper middle ground. I had plenty I could still say though.

Genre: Helping The Little Guy While Being a Bite Shady, Legal, Procedural

Similar Shows: Leverage (FreeVee), Sprung (FreeVee)

Reactions/Commentary Below The Cut

Oh? What's this?

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Margaret helps a lot of Black women. That could be white-savior-y, but I think it's really to show how disadvantaged Black women are when it comes to the system. They had to do it with a white protagonist because that's how they could sell it to CBS. And they still get to show how women can be treated differently through Margaret.

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I love how Marcia Gay Harden is a producer on this show, even though she wasn't the one originally set to star. Wasn't that Geena Davis? Checked: It was, dropped out during the Pilot. Character was named Joan then. Glad they changed it, it didn't fit either actress.

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Todd got a - Oh, that's why he got called.

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Oh god no Todd, don't let her think that! Don't cover! Please!

Oh good. Oh no. NO! Please tell me this gets righted in the end.

Marcia is really good at these bits of yelling.

What an ungrateful bitch.

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(so, I have ADHD. I left a juice box on the couch yesterday or the day before and I totally spaced on that, and just sipped the last bit out of the bottom. If I stop posting in the coming days, that's what killed me. Maybe. I mean other things could happen, but that should be a suspect.)

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It's been a while since I've been made to laugh by a [word gets said many times and then someone else says, "I'm starting to think"]kind of joke. Excellent delivery by Todd's actor.

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That's not the right name of that movie, Margaret.

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Oh the title was too much of a hint. Sort of. I mean, I guess we could have guessed at it from the court scene, though. (Guess twice, I know, I'm tired.)

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So much...I was just going to writes something but I went back and wrote something and now I don't know what I was going to saw.

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Susan nodding 😂

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Oh hey! Black person with a lot of money rep!

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Oh yay! Glad you told her!

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Their rep is great in every episode. POC guest casting always, not just main cast.

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Oh god, Margaret. No, Todd was trying to be good. UGH, MARGARET!

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Opposite order would probably happen, Margaret.

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Two POC docs! What kind of last name is Featherstone. Seems like a name for a Native American person. But I don't think the actor looked Native. More SE Asian (I watch a lot of things with different people from different SE Asian countries), but from one of the island countries. But I could be wrong. Looks like he's from Canada. So he could be Inuk, I guess. Or a miss-casted Asian. I'm kind of curious about that. I'm also very tired,.some maybe I'm going insane.

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No! I can't really say more, but god that doesn't feel right for him! UGGGHHH!

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Oh. She told her mother about that! Wait Todd told her too? I thought he wasn't going to tell her? We never say that, right?

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Someone is really looking to get permission to cheat on their spouse. Their amazing, losing spouse, and we're supposed to feel bad for them? UGH! Who writes some of these characters!

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This is absolutely a trans actor, or a an androgynous enby person. No way this person isn't a fellow queer. LOVE IT!

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Oh he didn't tell her. Good boy!

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He's so defensive of his mother and helpful to his sister, and they are both terrible. I'm sure he's a self-insert character, but damn do I hate this family. Well, as a family.

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Oh no! This'll be bad! That's not what they intended!

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Todd is every member of the Leverage team, but not as good at all their jobs as they are.

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Get out! They might think you're bad too! Get out!

(wait, wouldn't really know you're a doctor if you don't do it from your place if work, right?)

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I am so tired. Bed time soon.

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Oh boy.

Oh no!

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L.burton. OHHHH Lyle was a nod to LeVar Burton! Brilliant!

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Yeah.

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This episode is so anti big pharma. Leverage creators would be so proud! I'm to nervous to tell them they should watch it.

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How did you know that happened to your sister?

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I don't like either of these women. They are not why I like/watch the show. I don't watch it for the main family, I watch it for the rest of the story.

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More POC guest stars!

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Oh god.

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Impeached? I don't believe that would be an impeachment.

Don't ask question you don't know the answer to. Number one lawyer rule. She couldn't have known the answer to that for sure.

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I'm too tired to call out the bad legal stuff here. I'm sure there's more.

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Oh Margaret, I you you both suck, but stop being horrible to your kid. Please.

I guess she did learn something though.

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White women tears. This wouldn't work for Black woman. A white person wrote this. Not moving at all. I'm tired, but, yeah, I don't like her at all.

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Oh good, Todd deserved an apology.

[folerdetdufoler]

Oh, the balloon squad suggestion anon (me) wasn’t the journalism anon. Idk it was just a desire on my part, And I probably overstepped. I like how you write a lot and I just had the idea... I think I though about that because your evens, they tend to be rather sociable (not always though), but somewhat distant of the people they hang around with, minus Isak. I’ve always thought of even, because of the balloon boys presence and their interactions in the video and on SM and so on, as someone who..

Is not sociable and friendly but distant, but more involved in his fiends life’s. But then again, I’m overstepping because everyone interprets the characters they use and recreate differently and every representation is valid. As to writing Muslim characters... why shouldn’t you? You don’t have to be a member of the community to write them as characters. You’re not a Norwegian gay man. As long as you’re respectful and willing to learn and take feedback into account...

you didn’t overstep, and i appreciate your interest. and i did ask for guidance; i just want to make sure i know who i’m talking to in case i get conflicting suggestions for the same story.

and that’s correct, my evens are polite and charismatic but they have kept people at a distance, whether it’s because of something that’s happened in the past or because he is trying to protect them/himself from pain he might inadvertently cause. because we saw it in canon and because i identify with it so completely, it’s a challenge for me to write him otherwise.

but that’s the point of my writing i suppose, to challenge myself and improve on it, in order to graduate to my own characters and worlds. and it just so happens that this challenge, adding more prominent friendships for even, fits the very vague plot for magic eight ball. i need to be able to show even outside of their work environment, show how he interacts with people who are not isak nor isak’s friends, who might influence even’s behavior and isak’s interpretation of it. at some point isak needs to be able to see even as an independent human being, even in his own environment, so isak can see how he can be part of that too (the whole “friends” part of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers).

so, like, there is room for your suggestion here. and there’s always room to expand on what canon seemed to gloss over or sideline. not that the fallout and development of even’s friendships was reduced, since it made sense to me, but with the AU i can figure out how i might want to expand on that evolution or ignore it completely and put a more steady relationship in its place.

as for understanding, interpreting, and writing muslim characters, i don’t think i’m in a place where i can do that respectfully and in-depth. in this case, since it was a requested character inclusion, i knew the expectations for the character were higher than usual, which is why i was asking for more details. it’s certainly easy enough to keep a character vague, relying on a common understanding, to avoid misrepresenting them, but i couldn’t do that with the balloon squad because so little of that was done in the first place. i’m more comfortable writing sana because the work was already done to define her relationship with her culture, religion, and norwegian society. i know less about the balloon squad and would have to build that with very little knowledge (and thus much more...room...to fuck it up).

i’ve also noticed that even though i constantly ask for feedback, i rarely make changes based on it unless they are pointing out factual/grammatical errors. i ask for feedback and then don’t respect it. i am very worried that i would write something offensive and be called out for it, but because i’m so defensive about my own work, so insecure with my worldview, i would then reduce someone’s criticism to merely a personal preference and ignore it.

i mean, i’ll certainly try to write them. it’s important representation and an interesting dynamic. but, my own insecurities aside, i’ve also been paying attention to the #ownvoices movement, an attempt to have marginalized characters written by people who have experienced that marginalization in a quest for accurate representation and authenticity. it’s a slightly flawed movement, with rules that end up policing the very voices they intended to empower, and a publishing industry that is painfully white, but that, combined with the skam remakes fandom’s pursuit of realism in their story retellings, makes me feel like i should not risk telling someone else’s story if i am likely to do it incorrectly. i do not want to make the muslim representation that skam established even worse. this has obviously already happened and people are very vocal about these issues, so i am afraid of making the same mistake that i’ve already made in that arena.

so to sum up this long-ass disclaimer: thank you for your suggestion. i will attempt to include some of those characters as friends of even. i consider it a great responsibility, so clearly fear is my number one motivation at this point. but i’ll try.

and as a sidenote: everyone can tell a white man’s story because their story is the one we have all experienced for most of...history. a white man’s perspective is the default so you are born qualified to tell it, until further notice.