#if the real wil is somehow reading this: sorry not sorry

[apple-but-sour]

hey there, hope you’re doing well. this is no hate to the cc’s, things have been rough and they’ve had their hands full for like half a year now with things they obviously want to do more. my problem is… am i the only one who thinks they’re beating a dead horse with the dream smp?

there’s talks of a closing event and a server revamp but i don’t think that was planned with the already developed plotlines in mind, more as a last resort. that means they will be dropped, and even if the server doesn’t reset, i don’t think there will ever be a conclusion. the only people ever online are new members trying to make their own lore, but since the already old one is crumbling, failing to incorporate themselves. every person added doesn’t feel like “hey fresh blood for the story”, it feels like “again, really? aren’t there enough half-baked plot points already?”

the people who are added are basically just handed clout for something the wider audience doesn’t care about anymore (compared to the ‘getting invited to the dream smp’ craze there was before) and then left on their own, while the characters who have had development either go in loops or just do not do anything at all. the recent plotlines with the og characters (from what i’ve heard) were also pretty triggering for what seemed like no real reason. the question of whether wil and the others handled sensitive topics well is another thing, but from a writing perspective, it sucks.

the dream smp (as a story, not a fandom) died, i think, when the creators just stopped being all that interested in it. wilbur, ranboo, quackity, karl, those are just a few who were ready to put in a whole lot of effort but never went through with it, as if waiting for some kind of cue, which never came because the group lacks any kind of organization. now everyone so busy and uninterested and just wants to move on already, which is good and fine and i am happy about it actually, but they are just putting off actually declaring it done for some reason or another.

so, what’s your opinion on this as a well-respected (by me at least, don’t quote me) dream smp analyst? i checked in to the analyst side of tumblr expecting it to be a little dried out from the lack of answers, but it seems somehow there’s still discourse. not directed specifically at you, but what’s the point of putting forth the energy to stay in this community anymore? there’s no new content to get excited about, so why bear the downsides (because people will always find new ways to be stupid)?

not asking you to quit, but it just feels strange as a somewhat-outsider. it seems the job of a lore analyst that used to be stitching together the pieces of the latest content and rearranging old information in new and exciting ways is just 1. get harassed 2. argue (or try to avoid it) 3. feel dejected because it’s obviously not getting better. why are so many people sticking around…? do some actually think the creators will pick this abandoned story back up just because they’re talking about it as if it was still ongoing (likely because none of them can make that call alone)?

i’m just confused and feel a little bad for the people who get treated badly over and over by hateful people that don’t let go even if the story is basically done. sorry if this was difficult to read, head full.

This... uhh... sure is an essay. I might not be addressing every one of your points since I frankly just can't be bothered but here's my perspective on the Lore Drought™ I guess.

Calling it beating a dead horse is a brave statement since Dream SMP still gets views. That server is a cash cow. The content creators know it's a cash cow which is like half the reason they don't want to abandon it. It still Gets Views it is still An Opportunity For Content.

I see little point in speculating on whether old arcs will be dropped once the Big Dream SMP News arrive because we simply don't know. Extensively speculating on it is likely to either set you up for disappointment or make you panic over nothing. But we do know that whatever Dream suggested and all the members are looking forward to is supposed to be a compromise between those who want to reset the server and those who want to continue the storylines that are already there. So the ongoing stories probably aren't getting abandoned completely. As for what exactly happens to them, we'll just have to wait and see.

I am really confused about your point about recent arcs being triggering. I guess points can be made about how the CCs should consider presenting trigger warnings for their streams and that taking the story in that direction limits the amount of people who can engage with it and is therefore bad for views, but I'm not sure that's the points you're trying to make. If people really don't like the direction of some storylines, they can just not watch them. I don't see the big problem here. You can choose what content to consume, no one is forcing people to trigger themselves. It's the content creators' server and their story and if they want to delve into darker topics, that's their decision. I've seen criticism of how that content is handled but none of it is something I agree with.

Another brave statement is saying content creators aren't interested in the server. In fact, everyone seems very excited to continue writing and creating content on it. Even Wilbur who wants to give his character an ending (likely because he wants to focus on his band) has shown great enthusiasm for his own story. It's doesn't seem like it's out of boredom or disinterest that he's wrapping his plot up. Quackity seems to be hinting at a Las Nevadas Finale. People don't want to move on, people in fact want to continue, but how disorganized the server is + outside circumstances seem to be getting in the way.

I am not putting forth energy to stay in the community in the way you seem to be implying (like I'm holding onto a sinking ship). In fact, I've tried to distance myself from it and focus on something else multiple times, but these goddamn Blockmen Roleplay have gotten a death grip on my soul and there is no escape. You can see me become more inactive from time to time as the lack of content gets to me only to start incessantly posting once the Blorbo Syndrome returns full force. I don't exclusively engage in petty discourse (when I notice that becoming my primary activity in the fandom I tend to take one of those step-backs coz it usually means my interest has dried up a little). I rewatch VODs, I watch VODs I've never seen before, I talk to people about AUs, I read fanfic, I post enthusiastically about my blorbos, I spin my blorbos in my brain. Sometimes I find entertainment in revisiting old content and looking at it from a new perspective. Like, I don't think you can only ever have interest in a show that's ongoing. I am going to be sticking around until I manage to fixate on something else but it ain't happening yet, I've tried. Even if the revamp (or whatever it is that will soon happen to the Dream SMP) doesn't produce regular content the way we're being promised I am probably still going to stick around because my enjoyment doesn't hinge on getting fresh content. And it's the same for many others.

Like, overall, I get how it can sometimes feel like the fandom is just the same old discourse & harassment over and over again. As I've said it does get to me as well sometimes and then I just take a lil break until my enthusiasm returns. But I still find plenty of enjoyment in the Actual Content, even if it's old content, as well as in interacting with / creating fancontent. I guess for others their enjoyment is much more dependent on getting Regular Content, by the sound of things you might be one of those people, and that's fine!! But some people just wanna go crazy over the same scenes over and over again and create their little AUs and write fic and that's fine. People interact with content differently, and for some there's still plenty to enthuse over, which is why the fandom is still pretty active despite the lore drought and all the broken promises of content.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Hello my beloved! ( Can I call you that? And people it's platonic!) I have an idea and this is for pogtopia wilbur and ghostbur! Can you do a reader who loves painting and one morning they find a picture of them with a note about the reader confessing to then but they didn't do it in person because they were really nervous? Thank you!

And please take as much time as you want also could it be a long story? Thank you!

- Your beloved Moosh 🥺

Moosh, darling! Hello! Yes, you have my full permission to call me that, thank you for asking! This is the third time I've written this story because Tumblr just really enjoys screwing me over...

Also. You never clarified whether you wanted fluff or angst, but it's Pogtopia Wilby so I kinda just went with angst? If you want a happy end to this, I'll rewrite this no problem! But it won't be as long because... Well, you'll see. Also also, I didn't exactly know where to throw the Ghosty Bur in, so... Yeaaaah? He's at the end tho!

THE FIRST PART IS LIKE NEW NEW POGTOPIA WILBUR

TW: (Sorry it didn't save the first time) C!Schlatt, bruising, threatened hanging, self doubt

Perfect Picture of Imperfection (Pogtopia!C!Wilbur x GN!Painter!Reader)

Maybe you painted Schlatt's horns the wrong colour? Or his jawline was off? He was furious when you finally showed him your art piece... It was the best you could do with the few hours you were given! Paint physically couldn’t dry as fast as Schlatt wanted it to you… He didn’t seem to care when he threw the wooden frame of the torn canvas at you, giving you a dark bruise right above your eye, or when he started yelling at you and threatening to burn your art studio down to the ground.

Or even when he grabbed you and suggested to Quackity to hang you at the gallows for insulting the emperor of Manberg.

The man you had once been friends with grinned widely and nodded happily, “Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” He said, without a single care that you were a living human being, only giving a cheer as he picked you up so your feet were dangling on the ground, leaving you silent in terror. Tubbo only averted his gaze.

“Aww… You’re like a little fawn, caught in the torchlight of a traveller.” The ram hybrid smiled in a sickly sweet manner, causing the colour to drain from your face, “Come now, darling, I’m not a monster… You’re the only one of Wilbur’s sweet little subjects that he hasn’t gotten back, and here I thought you were his favourite… Or maybe he left you here to act as a sacrifice so they could all be off doing their own thing... Guess he prefers Niki over you…” He whispered as he dropped you, chuckling softly as you scurried out of the building as you quite literally ran for your life.

You called Wilbur when you were safely hidden in your house, gasps and sobs leaving your mouth quicker than tears could pool out of your eyes…

“(Y/n)... You can’t be calling me when-”

“Wil…?” You whispered into the communicator, your voice shaking enough to shut him up immediately, “He… He’s going to…” Hiccuping meekly, you curled in tighter on yourself as you heard Schlatt’s loud and pompous voice come over the speaker system he had hung up all around the once beautiful country, “I think I’m going to die here…”

The dead silence that followed through the line was sickening…

“Is it true…?” You couldn’t help but find yourself wondering aloud, “Is that why I’m the only one left here? Am I a sacrifice so you can live happily elsewhere? ...Is that why you haven’t come to get me?”

“(Y/n), I want you to never utter those words again.” His voice was dark and steely as there was a bit of crashing around that came from the other side as well as faint mumbles which were clearly from Tommy judging by all the swearing, “You are not a sacrifice. Now... Get your Enderchest and Inventory packed up, I’m coming to get you tonight, and then I’ll explain in person…”

The line cut off and you slowly lowered the communicator down from beside your ear. Your heart was sinking one minute, but soaring the next… A terrible feeling really. You were saved! But… He could get caught trying to come to get you… You couldn’t let that happen for sure. With a heavy sigh, you rubbed your eyes free of tears before standing up and beginning to shove any necessary equipment into your Enderchest, including your finished painting of Wilbur that you were going to give to him when he won the election… And finally, confess your feelings…

When midnight hit and the lights of the city finally died down, you climbed up onto your roof and looked around for the president, fear and paranoia flooding through your veins as your mind went wild. What if he got caught? What if he was trying to give you false hope? What if. What if. What if. These sort of questions buzzed around in your mind for an hour as you waited for your saviour to arrive…

Finally, when enough became enough and you decided he wasn’t coming, you stopped pacing and slowly sat down on the roof as the tears began to start again. You could practically hear Schlatt chiding you in the back of your mind, telling you that you were a fool for holding out hope.

“(Y/n)!” A low hiss came from beside you and a hand touched your shoulder. You certainly would’ve screamed bloody murder if another hand hadn’t quickly wrapped around your mouth, “Sh, sh, sh, it’s me… It’s Wilbur.” The voice soothed softly as the hand left your mouth, quickly allowing you to turn your head.

It didn’t feel real… Seeing him after so long… And in an outfit other than his uniform. “Wil...bur?” You repeated, staring at him for a while before giving him a soft smile filled with relief, “You really came…”

“Of course I did!” He almost seemed offended for a moment before his eyes softened as he realized what Schlatt must’ve drilled into your head. Wilbur easily caught you as you flung your self at him, quickly wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your (h/l) (h/c) hair, “I missed my artiste…” He whispered, donning a temporary french accent for the word ‘artist’.

Holding back a sob, you quickly grabbed his extended hand and followed him as he jumped off your roof, safely landing in a bed of hay that you used to feed your old farm animals that Schlatt confiscated before following him out of this damned country.

After that, things seemed to change between you and Wilbur. He always seemed to be at your side, choosing to personally train you rather than letting Techno train you with everyone else, or even running over ideas on how to expand Pogtopia with you rather than with Tommy. His touches always lingered longer or he somehow wound up leaning closer to you than originally necessary, but you never caught yourself complaining. He would watch you paint beautiful designs along the armour he had gifted you, knowing full well it would chip off and was heavily unnecessary, but he only smiled and let you continue doing it as long as it didn’t interfere with enchantments.

Each day with Wilbur became better and better, but your heart physically couldn’t take it any longer, you had to tell him that you felt this way for him… The way that you had to fight back the reddening of your cheeks when his chest pressed against your back as he adjusted your stance in training, or the way you had to struggle to regulate your breathing every time he complimented you on how far you had come…

He was going to be the death of you…

Your already calloused hands were bruised and blistered, but somehow, you were still able to hold a quill, pinched in between the fingers of your dominant hand. Wilbur had come to your Pogtopia home this morning, but upon realizing that he had knocked you to the ground a little too hard yesterday as you were incredibly stiff and sore, he let you have the day off of training.

This was at least a little chance… You had torn a page from your notebook and sat down at your handmade desk with a bitter sigh. Trust me, you wanted to tell him in person, but you were just too scared… Plus, maybe you could play it off as someone pulling a prank on him if it went south.

Biting your lip, your fingers treated the quill as a brush, delicately running the ink dipped tip over the top of the paper, letting your heart control what words you wanted the ink to form.

Wilbur,

You don't realize how much you mean to me. Although we've been friends for only a year, I feel as though I've known you my entire life. My connection to you is already so deep, and my love for you is already so strong that I can't remember what my life was like before we met. Even more, I can't imagine my life without you now. I can't imagine the future without you, either.

You have saved my life several times already. You have even saved me from myself several times, too! I am so thankful for your guidance and care. Whenever I'm having a bad day, I know that I can just give you a call. I know I can depend on you and, with your help, everything will turn out well.

I want you to know how I really feel. It's time for you to know that I'm ready to admit how much I care for you, how much you mean to me. I know, this isn’t the best timing in our lives, but I trust it will get better through your leadership. I love you, Wilbur.

Please, don't ever forget how much I love you.

Love, (Y/n) (L/n)

Sighing, you put the quill into the inkpot and put your head in your bandaged hands. ‘This is going to work. It will work. Go on. Have faith in yourself, as Wil said…’ You took a few deep breaths and stood up, picking up the letter once it was dry and reading it over as many times as you physically could before your mind couldn’t handle it any longer.

Walking to the door, you cracked it open to search for any sign of your president, sighing again as you realized he was likely out helping gather resources. “Is… This enough?” You mumbled sadly as you stared down at the simple letter before looking at your Enderchest in thought. Surely you could give him a few emeralds or some gold… Yeah! That’s what you’d do! Smiling in victory, you quickly wandered over to the chest and opened it, digging through it for a few moments.

It was sort of empty…

You groaned as you remembered that you haven’t really been one of the miners or forgers for Pogtopia. Instead, you were one of the warriors, focused on protecting others instead of gathering supplies.

Going to shut the chest, you suddenly paused as you saw something colourful resting at the bottom. Pushing aside your old L’Manberg uniform, you gasped as you found your old painting of Wilbur from a few months ago. It was old, yes, and a little dusty but you were still proud of it even now! Perfect.

Pulling out the painting, you began to lightly brush the dust off of the picture, smiling at the splashes of paint and colour forming a picture. It was your magnum opus.

It was a painting of Wilbur holding up a massive L’Manberg flag against the sunlight with a wide smile and hope in his eyes… This was the day that L’Manberg won independence from DreamSMP…

Standing up again, you quickly hurried out the door and walked to Wilbur’s room, silently creaking open the door and looking around, even though you were well aware that he was gone for the day. You walked over to his desk and gently setting the painting down on top of the countless sheets of work, making sure not to mix up any of the papers, then putting your letter on top where he could see it before hurrying out before you could change your mind.

Thankfully you got out when you did because, by the time you pulled an already baked potato out of the furnace, Wilbur came down the stone stairs, looking extremely exhausted, “(Y/n), my artiste…” He murmured with a smile, “I’m glad to see you’re still up and going… I was worried we would have to make you a healing pot.”

“It’s not too bad… It’s mostly just my hands that hurt.” You chuckled and held up your shaking bandaged hands, “You want me to cook you up some potatoes and carrots? Or I could maybe try and get some steak cooked up before you go to work?”

Wilbur tried to smile a bit, deciding not to question why your hands were shaking so badly, taking everything out of his inventory and placing them in their designated chests. “No, no… It’s alright. I’m going to go get ready for Tubbo’s report… I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”

You gave him a small wave before Wilbur disappeared into his office. Taking a sharp intake of breath, you quickly followed after him and peeked through the tiny crack in the door where he didn’t close it all the way. He stood in his room silently for a moment before throwing his hat off at a wall, screaming into hands, muffling it heavily to the point where you wouldn’t have heard it if you were still near the furnaces. Wilbur threw off his jacket before plopping himself into his chair with his head in his hands for a few moments, then lifting it to stare at the painting that you had placed.

He was still for a long time, then he slowly picked up the note, his eyes softened slightly before his face broke out into a wide and genuinely happy smile before his mouth twitched and the smile began to fall, tears bubbling into his chocolate coloured eyes. Wilbur held the note up to his chest and slouched back against his chair, sobbing into his hand, whispering ‘I’m so sorry’ repeatedly.

Frowning, you realized that he physically couldn’t return your love because of the stress of caring for Pogtopia and trying to win back L’Manberg. With a sad smile, you stood up and walked to your room, putting your head down as you saw water droplets hit the stone below you, “It wasn’t a no…” You tried to tell yourself, ignoring the tears running from your eyes as you shut the door, sliding down to your knees.

The next few weeks after that were hell, the complete opposite of the Utopia that you were blinded by for the past month. Wilbur asked Techno to pick up your training, and he never even spoke to you about it again… It was the Piglin hybrid that awkwardly told you. During dinner, Wilbur would practically eat as little as possible as he ignored you, trying to make any situation where he would be in the same room as you as short as possible.

“Wil-...” You reached out to the president but watched as he only gave you the saddest gaze before walking past you as if he never saw you. But he would have no problems talking to Niki, or anyone else! It wasn’t fair!

Time ticked by in a haze of fog and you quickly watched the man you had once fallen in love with becoming a complete shadow of his former self… It was sickening… He… Lost it… His mind was becoming twisted… And all you could do was watch in horror…

You knew something was wrong when he crept away from the festival and the celebration… But you just decided that he was going to take a break from the excitement. He was quite old after all…

Then the ground shook with booming roars as TNT blew craters into the earth, sending debris scattering and people screaming, scattering for their lives. Gasps of terror escaped your lips as you realized the cause of it all… You hopped over gunpowder scented broken stone and batted the smoke away as you saw the final picture to paint the last stroke of horror in your heart.

There was a blond man with massive avian wings holding a diamond sword glimmering with enchantments as the brunet clung to his clothing, slowly sinking to his knees. With a sob of despair, you watched the man you once loved so dearly, get stabbed through the chest by his own father.

“WILBUR!” You shrieked, your ears ringing from the blast as you sunk to your knees, sobs racking your frame violently. Wilbur’s head lazily rolled to look in your direction…

And in his last dying breath… He smiled…

-

“That painting…” A light airy whisper echoed through the darkened stone halls of your home, “It’s familiar… Yet so foreign...”

You gave a hum as you hung your netherite armour on your stand before turning to stare at the spectral figure floating in your doorway, “Which painting, Ghostbur? There’s many… You have to elaborate.”

“Right! Because you’re an artiste!” The transparent male chirped happily, not seeming to notice your flinch, “I mean the one hanging above the fireplace, of Alivebur.”

“Right…” You nodded, following behind the eager sweater-wearing ghost down the eerie hallways and into the office, "I'm going to take it down... I think it's doing more harm than good..."

Ghostbur didn't seem to understand your reasoning, but he didn't say much, knowing that Alivebur hurt many people... But he didn't think he hurt you, "It's pretty though... But your art style has changed, in a good way though!" He smiled softly as you opened the large dark oak double doors.

You walked past your grand dark oak desk to stare at your former magnum opus, dangling above the unlit fireplace. "Hey, Bur, if you have a flint and steel, could you light the fire please?" You glanced over and watched him nod as he dug through his pockets. In the meantime, you climbed up onto the mantle and began to struggle to pull the canvas off the wall. With a bit of hassle, you managed to pull it down and toss it onto the ground before climbing down, just in time for your ghost friend to light the fire.

"Don't damage it, (N/n)! It's still really good!" Ghostbur scolded you with a pout once you hopped down and picked the canvas up, "And you used to be proud of it!"

"I'm not, don't fret too m-" You paused mid-sentence as you saw a letter tucked into the bottom corner of the back of the painting. Frowning in confusion, you slowly picked it up and turned it over into your hand, only to discover that it was addressed to you in fancy cursive, sealed with a light red and white wax seal, "What's this?"

He looked over at you and tilted his head, seeming almost as genuinely confused as you were. Ghostbur shrugged as you propped the painting up against the wall before sitting at your desk, using your letter opener for its purpose, "Love letter, perhaps?"

"I doubt it..." You mumbled softly as you carefully unfolded the paper, recognizing that it was probably a few years old, "Let's see... Who wrote this..." You hummed before beginning to read.

My darling artiste... I'm sure by the time you read this, I'm either dead or... Well, most likely dead, if all goes to plan...

I am writing this letter to you to let you know that life without you is not the same. Life without you is very sad and lonely. I have realised that it was you who keep me alive and cheerful.

I thought I would get used to your absence from my life, but every day has been harder when I think of all the good times we spent together.

There are so many things which I want to confess. It's killing me because I don't want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you.

And I'm not able to tell you I'm in love with you.

What an idiot I am.

And for the past few days, I've been trying to figure out, why there aren't some words to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn't a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe my love for you.

But I need that word. I need it because I want you to hear me say “I love You". I want to make the sweetest gestures in front of you which make you feel even more loved.

Trust me... I know... I act like an absolute ass towards you. I'm so scared of your life being in more danger than it was... I really did love you, and still do, but I didn't want it to hurt you more when I blow up L'Manberg...

Darling, I could have simply called you on your communicator and took you out on a surprise date but I couldn't have expressed my feelings. You have become an integral part of me. I want to give you all my love throughout my life.

The painting you made me is beautiful and I will cherish it for as long as I'm alive... It's a perfect picture of imperfection...

I Love You, (Y/n), even if by now you'll never love me back.

- Wilbur Soot

"That... That idiot..." You whispered, holding your head in your hands in an attempt to hide the tears from Ghostbur, "He planned blowing up L'Manberg from the beginning... That's why he refused to acknowledge me after I... He wanted me to hate him..."

Ghostbur held a bit of blue in his hands tightly, avoiding your gaze as you murmured to yourself, "Yeah... Most of my happiest memories involve you... That's why I couldn't understand when you said Aliverbur hated you..." He glanced away again as he saw you look at him.

"(Y/n)... Are you ever going to move out of Pogtopia?"

"Probably not for a long time, Ghostbur."

[wangxianficrecs]

Hi Mojo, I also wanted to share my thoughts on this concrit and commenting discussion, particularly the etiquette of asking permission before identifying racism part. I think there are two conversations here: the concrit and comment etiquette on fics, and POC being able to speak up without having to adhere to etiquette. Of course you can stop reading this message if you would like to as I’m mindful of your argument that you should ask permission first. But if you could read this (not even publish!) then that would be appreciated.

I am a Chinese diaspora. As a Chinese diaspora your comments affected me rather more than I expected them to. I’m being really careful about my own tone right now - because I’m worried that if I come across as angry or even remotely impolite, that my message might get dismissed by a reader thinking I’m just angry and reactive. I’m coming from a personal perspective on this, but I can’t not make it personal as this is something that affects me, and my friends and family, as people.

With your message to be kind in all interactions with authors, all that runs through my mind is the implication that as a POC person, is is MY job to be kind and understanding and polite, and it MY job to willingly teach another person of how their actions and words have impacted me. That if I am angry or offended and speak in a less than nice tone, that somehow this is a petty tit-for-tat move on my part? Of course in an ideal situation we should not react emotionally - but I can’t be expected to stay unemotional in the face of micro aggression and racism, even if it was not meant to be malicious. I’m sure your intention wasn’t this but then the idea that WE must then kindly educate the racist party (accidentally or otherwise) is a huge emotional and mental burden that we can’t be expected to partake in every time.

I know I cannot say ‘us’ in this situation, but this isn’t an issue that only affects an individual. I KNOW I am only one person. I know I may not be the ‘mouthpiece’, as you said, for everyone who is Chinese diaspora. But I can say for certain that I share the same lived experiences of at least some who will agree with me. I’m challenging the idea that an individual can’t be somewhat reflective of a population - otherwise it would be ridiculous to suggest that all people of a similar background must agree on everything and have a spokesperson.

I’m also sure you didn’t mean to or I could be wrong, but I get the sense that you are considering this issue predominately from the perspective of a non-POC (non-Chinese, in this case) author and how we should try not to upset them. It feels that we must consider that the author is coming from a place of no bad intentions or malice and must therefore speak to them in that way - but that is a very idealistic process that POCs and marginalised people can’t always rely on. Ignorance - especially wilful - can be just as harmful and hurtful as direct aggression.

Luckily my experiences in this fandom has demonstrated that authors who are non-Chinese or POC almost always start their fics with an apology and a reassurance that they are receptive to corrections of any cultural inaccuracies they may have. And I think that this is the crux of the etiquette issue that we shouldn’t offer unsolicited criticism without first asking permission. These authors have acknowledged their different background and own potential shortcomings and are open to criticism in this aspect. In these more common cases, there is of course no need to ask for permission - the author has already anticipated conversation around this.

The etiquette issue is when an author has not prefaced their work with this sort of disclaimer - and I am aware it may be unfair to expect this of all fic writers. That’s where this issue of etiquette comes up. The author hasn’t appeared to welcome comments on cultural insensitivity - so I have to think about if I now need to ask nicely for permission to speak. As a reader, specially as a Chinese diaspora, if cultural insensitivity or discrepancies appear without the disclaimer of ‘please let me know if there are any inaccuracies’ then the implication may be that the author simply didn’t care or bother about offending anyone. If they do, then I know it’s just a mistake and that they haven’t been dismissive or uncaring. Without it, the authors intentions become much more ambiguous.

Even worse is when an author blatantly says they’ve made mistakes or haven’t researched and don’t care for feedback. My culture and heritage isn’t a playground for you, and I don’t think fic writers should be exempt from being respectful for the sake of a quick fic.

Like I said earlier, this is not a hypothetical exercise for POC. We’re faced with microaggressions constantly in our real lives, so our patience for this sort of situation runs a bit thin and it is difficult not to react with emotion. I also dislike the idea that I need to ask permission to speak about something that impacts me so profoundly.

A message to prefaces a written piece of work saying that the author is not of that ethnicity or culture and that they welcome comments to fix it always helps. Then the lines of communication aren’t blurred and the onus doesn’t fall on the marginalised or POC to become a teacher.

Mojo, this is actually the second draft of a message to you. I have spent over an hour and a half of my time crafting this message - trying to get the tone right, trying not to come across angry or impolite, trying to say everything I want to say. Your replies to the blogger in the replies of one of the last anons was what really sparked this huge essay- I came away from reading them really effected, and not knowing why I was upset by it. I think you really missed the point that they were trying to say - that obviously, unsolicited criticism can be hurtful and unnecessary, but valid criticism of hurtful practices should not be shut down. Instead, you explained (and I know interpreting tone through text is difficult but I could not read it in a non-patronising way) that in short, if I am mean because they’ve been (allegedly accidentally) mean first then I shouldn’t expect them to listen to any of my concerns or understand why I was upset. Because I was mean back. For me, this felt like a dismissal of something that is profoundly more complex - that it wasn’t a conversation about etiquette anymore, but somehow became one about silencing marginalised people and coddling fragile white egos.

Mojo, I’ve followed you for ages and love all the content and hard work you put out and am infinitely and considerably grateful for your achievements. You are truly a wonderful person with such great ideas and intentions. The fandom would suffer greatly without your dedication. It’s just that on this occasion I think you may have missed the mark a little and had to say something. Others may not agree with me, I know, but I hope you have at least read this.

Lots of love, from a follower

Let me start by saying that I’m very sorry you felt you had to moderate your tone so much in order to be heard.  I really do strive to make my blog a welcoming environment for everybody, and I regret that you’ve felt excluded:  that was never my intention. I am always interested in everyone's point of view.

You've got some really great and specific points here that I think will be helpful to all authors in this fandom -- like ways to introduce your fic and/or be respectful as well as small things that come across as offensive.

The conversation this morning veered way off track from bookmarks to racism, and like I said then, I am not qualified to talk about that. I do not have your history or your experiences: all I can do is listen and empathize and learn. Which I try to do!

What I am qualified to discuss is how writers might respond to comments: I've had lots of experience with that! So my point is: if you approach an author with anger, they are very likely to close themselves off to you. I'm not attaching a value judgement to that, to say that they are right or wrong to do so... it's just a statement based on my observations over many years.

I can imagine how easily a lifetime of tiny (and large) insults and slights would build up and spill over in anger, frustration and resentment. That's very human. Please don't think that I am belittling or denying your experience or your right to feel this way, because I am not.

I respect you. I respect your experience. I respect your right to be angry and to talk about it. Period. I really, really do. I think it's important for your voice to be heard: this is how you feel valid as a person with your feelings, and it's how other people learn!

So let's go back to reading a fic where you find portions (or all) of it racist or insensitive or culturally tone deaf. What is your goal? I ask this just as a student of psychology (and also a parent). Do you want to educate them, or to shame them? Again, I'm not attaching a value judgement to either response. The way you introduce your topic will affect how the author will react. It's not about 'white fragility'... there's no way for you to know who penned that story, just as there is no way for the author to know anything about you when you comment. This is just about humans and how they interact with each other.

This is tough. This is thorny. THIS IS NOT A SIMPLE MATTER. There are always, always going to exceptions, gray areas and straw men: you (and any reader) should always use your judgement. Are you saying this to someone who is hateful and bigoted and cruel with it? Or are you saying it to a 12-year-old girl from corn fields in Nebraska? Are you unsure?

So this isn't about silencing your voice, not at all. It's about judging who you're speaking to and whether or not they'll hear you.

I absolutely do not think that unsolicited or angry fic comments (or bookmarks) are a productive forum for educating people... if that is your goal. And it may not be, which is fine. As you pointed out, the burden of educating people should not rest solely on you, it shouldn't be your responsibility.

I will say again that a place like this, right here - this very letter which I am answering and publishing - IS a great way to educate people. Use it freely, speak loudly, say your piece and share your experiences. Arrgh, I really hope that doesn't come across as condescending. I'm being utterly sincere. I am nearly 50. I've seen a lot of change happening. This is how it happens.

I do not want to silence your voice - or anyone's voice! I want to hear everyone's opinions and thoughts because that ultimately makes me a more well-rounded and considerate person and the world a better place.

I do however, passionately believe that positive change can be affected best through positive interaction. It's not a rule everyone is required to follow, not at all. But is the one that I speak of, and the one that I try to adhere to.

I could never speak for any minority, to say what you should or shouldn't do - as individuals or as a group. But I can speak from the experiences and feelings of a fic author. That's it, that's the limit of my ability. And you may do with that whatever you feel is right.

Let me wrap this up by saying that I really appreciated this letter and Nonny - you were very brave to throw this out into the forum, thank you! You had some extremely useful and important points that I am very happy to share. I am sorry my comments hurt you, and I hope that you feel a little better now.

Having said all this, I would really not like to start a huge discussion on racism in the fandom. I am the wrong person to conduct that conversation: I don't know enough about it, nor do i have the proper experiences or point of view.

With that, I must go, and I'll see you all tomorrow!

[greensword101]

This is for @barely-nok. I’m sorry it took so long to get some Obake content out for you to consume. I hope you find it tasty lol.

Obake never drank on principle. He needed to keep a clear head and heads were meant for thinking. And thinking meant he could create what he wanted to the limit or even beyond that.

But even sober, his brain would...fizzle if Kei ever so much as blinked at him prettily. Or pouted. Or cheerily threatened to sing “I’m Henry the Eighth , I Am” if he didn’t agree to take a break and - urgh! Just acknowledging the phrase made him feel filthy - spend some “quality time” with a coworker.

Personally speaking, Obake would have preferred the term “expendable” or “replaceable” or “unpaid intern that wasn’t getting extra credit or the merits of knowledge.” Oh, but he would pay anything to get DeciBull out of his sight! And hearing range.

Then again, hearing range would be preferable. Wild cards like Kei were acceptable. DeciBull - or Wil as Kei had casually greeted him by to the former’s chargain -  was more of a Jack; weaker than Obake, but still a threat nonetheless.

If Kei hadn’t taken the car and driven off to God knew where, he would have stormed out of the bar and left that arsehole behind. Maybe steal his glasses and see if the chubby man with a guitar gimmack could find his way back home without falling off the pier.

Wil had barely touched his first bottle and was glowering at his phone for the past half hour. This suited Obake swimmingly, if not for the fact that Kei would know that they hadn’t made any attempt at all and would be tormenting him with that song again! And she would enlist Noodle Burger Boy this time, he was certain. And possibly Trina, though he was certain she would be directed towards Wil instead.

Obake collected himself and recited the longest formulas in the Periodic Table before he rigidly glanced over to Wil.

“I’m surprised you aren’t taking advantage of the karaoke here.”

Wil yelped and fumbled with his phone - mumbling apologies to the bartender as he passed - before gaping at Obake.

“Interesting...” Obake murmured.

“What?” Wil asked bemused.

“You almost looked like an intelligent being for a moment.”

Wil scowled, “Funny.” 

Then a smile crept onto his face. Obake stiffened. He knew he could take the man, he was slimmer and certainly wasn’t sluggish, but bars were always tricky to maneuver around in. Inebriation, sympathizers, or anyone looking for an excuse to be aggressive would make Obake beating Wil up...troublesome.

“Something amusing to you?” Obake took a sip from his own glass to appear ignorant and casual.

“Just thinking how whipped you must be if Kei could make you spend time with me,” Wil leaned in conspiratorially, “Tell me, does she make you sleep on the couch when you misbehave?”

Obake sputtered and and gave Wil a hard stare. Wil stared back undaunted.

“Shut your mouth and have your bloody drink, why don’t you?” Obake snarled and took another, deeper sip from his glass. He was used to dealing with the aggressive and almost territorial behavior Wil demonstrated back at the base. He did not want to be sober to process that Wil was capable of having bloody cheek.

“How can I have my ‘bloody drink’ if my mouth’s shut?” Wil asked innocently.

“Test my patience and we’ll find out soon enough,” Obake growled under his breath. He could do it.  One stab between the ribs and he could slip out in the noise and confusion. He just didn’t want to put up with Kei pestering him when he got back and possibly annoying her with a potential murder.

Wil sniggered and had another swig of his beer. He went back to his phone, but he barely seemed to be reading what was on the screen.

That was...unexpected. But it was a better alternative to dealing with a feral monkey by himself. Obake found himself enjoying the Manhattan more than he expected and finished it off. He was beginning to fish the cherry out when Wil spoke up again.

“Was it good?”

Obake groaned and glowered at Wil, who was starting at his empty glass curiously. What didn’t that fool understand about having a little peace and quiet?

“I don’t typically drink myself,” Wil mumbled into his bottle and drank. He sputtered for a few moments and continued, “I just stick to a beer once in a while.”

“Thank Heaven for small miracles, then,” Obake narrowed his eyes and waved the bartender over, “Another one, if you would be so kind.”

“Me too,” Wil smiled at the bartender and held up his empty bottle. Amazingly, the bartender smiled back and came back moments later with their second drinks. Wil called after him as he walked off, “Thanks, Jim!”

“You frequent this place often?” Obake ventured and helped himself to his second Manhattan. Screw sobriety, it had been so long since he had anything that tasted so good touch his lips.

“I used to,” Wil admitted, “Just for a bite and maybe a bottle. That’s kind of how me and Kei met, actually.”

“A little nip before beddybye?” Obake cooed mockingly at him.

“Crime and I have something in common,” Wil smirked, “We rarely sleep.”

“Tragic,” Obake chuckled and raised his glass in mock salute, “To your insomnia, I suppose.”

Wil raised his beer in kind, “And to good company if I ever get any.”

Now, they both laughed for real. Obake noticed for the first time how pleasantly red Wil’s face had become. Was it the alcohol or the first genuine spark of life he was expressing? If it was the latter, that would mean Kei was behind it somehow.

Suddenly, the good feeling popped like a soap bubble and Obake hid his displeasure by finishing off his second Manhattan. Wil gawked at him.

“You should slow down, Kei is gonna freak if she has to pick us up from the ER because you got alcohol poisoning or something.”

“Kei this, Kei that, you haunt her like a lapdog!” Obake spat out. Damn that woman and her silly, childish notions of fun and damn that boulder she decided would make good company!

Wil blinked and leaned back a little. A moment later, he was glowering back with that familiar hostility, “At least I don’t treat her like a nuisance like you do! Do you have any idea how much she cares about you?!”

“Cares?” Obake snapped his fingers at Jim for another glass and leaned closer to Wil’s face. His nostrils flared and he could feel Wil tense inches away from him. “Why would she have to care about me? If that’s what you call pity, then I’ve no need for it! She can pretend all she wants that we’re all supposed to be some family, but in the end, that’s all it’s going to be. A stupid dream! Why would she care about making me ‘socialize’ with the others or spending ‘quality time’ with her silly boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?!”

Obake jabbed a finger into Wil’s chest, “Don’t play coy! I know you think I’m a prat to her! And I know you won’t believe that she can almost make me feel human! But you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way, Prince Charming! She’s all yours, so you don’t have to worry about me -”

“I’m gay.”

“And I’m Bob, the pleasure’s all...what.” Obake had to take a moment to process Wil’s flat retort.

“Gay. I like guys. I love them. I love kissing them. And I’m already taken.”

Obake opened his mouth and closed it again. He noticed that his third Manhattan had arrived and wasted no time downing it. Wil didn’t repeat how it wasn’t safe to do this time, and he was thankful for that. 

Suddenly, he felt someone standing right behind him and stilled.

“Is he giving you problems, Wil?”

“No worries, Eugene,” Wil smiled at the person behind him, “Just clearing up a misunderstanding over here.”

Obake felt a little dizzy and pinched his nose, “Let me understand this correctly. You have never had feelings for Kei?”

“Platonically, yes. Romantically or otherwise? No.”

“And this whole time, yo - you’ve...” Why couldn’t he find the right words? “You’ve...acted harshly because...?”

“Because she’s one of my best friends and I don’t want her to get hurt,” Wil said firmly. He pointed at Obake with a fiercely protective look, “I can’t help who she wants to connect with, but I won’t stand by and let her get hurt. She’s gone through too much to deserve that.”

“Alright, I’m just going to butt in for a moment here,” Eugene moved from behind Obake and stood to Wil’s left, wrapping an arm across him protectively. He was pleasant to the eyes; tall, broad, dark brown hair and a scruffy goatee. He looked at Wil, bemused, “You weren’t here scooping for another cutie, babe?”

“Wh...why...why would he...?” Obake’s tongue felt like lead. Dear Lord, he could barely speak, he was so embarrassed.

“Because this is a gay bar?” Eugene supplemented as if it weren’t obvious. Obake blinked. Come to think of it, it was rather odd no one had come to bother them when they came in. Did...did that mean...?

Somewhere in San Fransokyo, Kei was laughing herself silly. Obake was certain of it. 

“Everything alright over here?” Another voice, deeper than Eugene’s mischievous and light tone asked.

“Hey ‘Nan! This is an acquaintance of mine,” Wil helped himself to his beer, “and apparently he thought I was stealing his girlfriend until a few moments ago. Bob, this is Kanan. My other boyfriend.”

“Other...” Obake’s head was swimming. This was too much to process...

“Yeah,” Wil said shyly, “We’re...we’re kind of a poly sort of thing.”

As if to prove his point, Eugene promptly gave Wil a deep kiss on the lips that was eagerly returned. Kanan came into view and Obake noticed how dark skinned he was and the ponytail before he decided he was too sober to handle this all right now.

He made to stand and tripped over his stool. And a moment later, his Manhattans returned and splashed all over the floor.

In hindsight, he should have checked how much alcohol was in each glass...

It was about a half hour later when Kei found all four of them outside the bar with Obake being supported by an irksome Wil and amused Eugene. Kanan looked torn between disapproval and laughter.

“Was it fun?” Kei asked hesitantly. Obake took one look at her and sighed. It was his own fault for drinking too much.

“It was something,” Wil supplemented as he helped buckle Obake into the backseat, “And educational, apparently, so that’s a plus.”

“We were there at the tail-end,” Eugene added helpfully, “It was kind of entertaining.”

“You sure you can take care of this?” Kanan asked Wil.

Wil looked at Obake and sighed, “We’ll be alright. Thanks, anyways.”

“See you at the next heist meet, babe!” Eugene blew a kiss.

“Tell Raps and Hera I said hi!” Wil called back as they drove off.

“And here I thought I’d be picking you up at the police station for a bar brawl,” Kei half joked.

“Stay with me, Bob!” Wil shook Obake gently, “Don’t go to sleep. First rule in treating alcohol poisoning.”

“Piss off...” Obake slurred.

Wil sighed and let his head sink against the headrest for a few moments. Why didn’t he just become an accountant like his parents wanted?

“Wil...” Obake said sluggishly, “In..in the...event...I survive this with my memory intact. Would you...do it again?”

Wil blinked in surprise and chuckled weakly, “Only if you watch what you drink next time, lightweight.”

“Momma’s boy.”

“Evil Brit.”

“Four Eyes.”

“Nnnnnnnnnnneeeee~rrrrrrrrrds!” Kei cackled as her passengers bickered with each other without any former hostility from before.

[dothwrites]

97, maybe? For the prompts? :)

---

#97--When you smile, I fall apart

---

Dean watches silently as Cas rolls yet another t-shirt before putting it into his suitcase. Neither of them have spoken in what feels like days but has only been several hours. Their silence isn’t angry, nor is it comfortable. Dean doesn’t bother to pretend like he isn’t watching Cas’ every move as he carefully removes every part of himself from their dorm room. 

His posters have already been taken down and rolled carefully. Cas told Dean he could sell them or throw them away, and Dean had nodded like he was agreeing, but Cas’ posters are currently taking up some prime real estate in the back of his closet, where they’ll stay for damn near forever. Cas’ pens, pencils, and other various supplies are carefully hidden in his desk, while his furniture sits, forlorn, on his side of the room. His mattress is stripped bare. The only thing which remains is for Cas to empty his drawers, which is a task becoming shorter with each shirt that disappears into his suitcase. 

With a sensation like feeling his chest rip in half, Dean watches Cas examine each drawer. He closes them with a sense of finality before he turns to his suitcase. Tight lines of tension hold his shoulders in a defensive posture as he zips the case closed. Afterward, he continues facing away from Dean, his gaze fixed on the blank wall. His fingers curl into the stiff fabric of his suitcase, but he doesn’t speak. 

That task falls to Dean. 

“So, I guess this is it, huh?” Dean’s voice is too loud even to his ears, harsh and discordant in the silence of the room. “E.T. goes home.”

“Not particularly,” Cas answers. He keeps his face turned away, giving no indication to his mood. “It’s not home. Not really.” 

“It’s not stopping you from going back.” Dean knows his voice is surly and hurt, but he can’t stop himself. Maybe if he hadn’t held all of this in, Cas wouldn’t be leaving. 

“We’ve talked about this. I have to.” 

Dean clenches his jaw and says nothing. All of his arguments--Your parents never cared about you, what difference does it make whether you go home or not, you shouldn’t throw away your future for people who don’t give a shit about you--have already fallen on deaf ears. 

What tortures him are the unspoken arguments, the ones that have never been spoken aloud except to an empty room. 

Please don’t leave me. 

I love you. 

Dean bites his lower lip to keep those words stoppered within him. He won’t say it, not now. Those words are like blackmail. If he said then, then he’d be no better than Cas’ shitty family, using ties of loyalty and obligation to force him into a decision. If Cas doesn’t decide to stay on his own merits, then Dean doesn’t want it at all. And Cas hasn’t decided to stay. 

Three years, two of them as unlikely roommates, countless all-nighters and drunken binges, several extremely dicey situations, some of which made Dean think that maybe his interest in Castiel wasn’t as unrequited as he originally thought, and it all ends here. On an unremarkable Wednesday afternoon, with Cas’ bags packed and them waiting for the Uber that will take Cas away to the airport and out of Dean’s life. 

“It’s not forever,” Cas finally says. “I’ll be back.” 

“To visit,” Dean says, unwilling to be bought with pretty lies. 

“To stay,” Cas insists. Dean wishes he would turn around. Cas is a difficult guy to read on the best of days, harder when all Dean has to go on is the shift of his shoulders. 

“Yeah. Whatever.” 

The second Cas got the call from his brother, Dean knew it was over. Cas’ father was dying and Cas’ presence was expected. He wouldn’t be able to finish the semester and would be forced to take an incomplete. His scholarships were in jeopardy, his re-admission status in peril. Cas had told him all of this and somehow managed to sound hopeful about this whole thing, but Dean had heard the unspoken truth underneath the words.

It was over. Cas wasn’t coming back.  

“Dean.” 

Dean looks up and meets brilliant blue eyes. Now, as always, he’s taken aback by their hue and the emotion which shines out of them. For all the times he’s accused Cas of being a robot, when you get down to it, Cas doesn’t have a damn poker face. He can keep his expression as stoic as he wants, but those baby blues betray him every single time. Right now, his eyes are welling over with an overabundance of emotion. 

Dean’s breath catches in his throat with a painful hitch. He can’t do this right now. Not when his heart is ripping in two and Cas is standing less than an inch away from him. “Cas,” he says, trying for jovial and failing miserably, “your Uber is gonna be here soon, man.” 

“That’s why I have to do this now.” 

Dean opens his mouth and closes it, like a particularly stupid goldfish. For all of his reticence and silence, Cas has a habit of dropping hard truths right out of the blue, like the time they were in sophomore year and a little bit drunk and Cas grabbed his shoulder and stared him down with all the intensity of a slightly tipsy robot. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” Cas had said, his normally rough voice gone subsonic. “We share a profound bond,” he continued, over Dean’s protests. 

So Dean’s a little leery now that Cas is looking at him like he hears the ticking clock and that he realizes this is very much a go big or go home moment. 

“I know that you don’t believe me, but I will be back.” Dean opens his mouth to argue, but Cas steamrollers directly over his objections by cupping Dean’s cheek. His hands are huge against Dean’s face, sturdy and warm. They’re hands Dean could trust, hands Dean wants to catch him every time he stumbles. 

“This isn’t what I want. Dean, I know...” Cas falters, his thumb rubbing at the soft skin underneath Dean’s eye. “I know it’s a shitty time to do it, and I would understand if you tell me to leave and don’t want to talk to me anymore, but I...” 

Dean can’t ever recall a time when Castiel had to grope for words. It’s happened twice in the past thirty seconds. Then Cas looks at him, his eyes like blue steel, and Dean gets ready for some hard truths to be dropped on him like an anvil on Wil. E. Coyote. 

“You are the best person I’ve ever met. Everything about you--your kindness, your humor, your generosity--Dean, you’re my best friend.” 

Dean’s heart sinks at that, but apparently Cas isn’t done dropping anvils. “And it’s stupid to want anything more, but I do, Dean. Dean, I want...” 

Three times now that he’s rendered Cas speechless, but Cas has never been one to lose gracefully. Cas renders him speechless, thoughtless, weightless, and dozens of other ‘lesses’ as he leans forward and presses his lips gently to Dean’s. 

It isn’t until Cas starts to pull away that Dean regains any semblance of rational thought. The thought of Cas leaving him is incomprehensible, unthinkable. Dean curls his fingers in Cas’ shirt and pulls him closer. 

Cas’ lips are just as stupidly chapped and rough as he thought they would be, but he never could have imagined how soft they would feel underneath his. Even in his wildest fantasies, he never could have conjured up the rough, needy sound rumbling up from Cas’ throat as Dean licks across the seam of his lips. Cas opens his mouth and deepens their kiss, his fingers pushing into Dean’s hair as he pulls them closer. 

“Oh, Dean,” Cas whispers. He doesn’t move from where he’s perched atop Dean, his forehead pressing into Dean’s. “I’m so sorry it took me this long to pull my head out of my ass. If I’d been thinking correctly, I would have told you how I felt years ago.” He tilts his head to kiss Dean’s cheek.

Dean’s heart cracks. 

“You stupid idiot,” Dean says, before he takes Cas’ lips in an almost brutal kiss. “You could get so much better than me.” 

“Impossible,” Cas tells him. “I could never want anyone else other than you.” He places a soft kiss at the corner of Dean’s lips. “Every time you smile, I fall apart.” 

Dean lunges forward, wrapping Cas in a tight embrace. He wants to pull Cas into him, wants to wrap himself around Cas in such irreparable ways that Cas will never be able to scrub himself clean of Dean’s influence. 

Dean’s arms wrap around Cas’ shoulders, as he grabs at the short hair at the back of Cas’ head. He licks into Cas’ mouth, determined to get to the root of him. He’s just pushing forward, Cas softening to accept him, when Cas’ phone rings. 

It’s like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over his head. Dean pulls back, staring in muted horror at Castiel’s pocket. 

His phone is ringing. Cas’ Uber is here. 

“Cas,” Dean says helplessly, pulling Cas towards him. Their kiss is messy and desperate, teeth and tongues clashing as their fingers yank and tug. “Cas, don’t go, please don’t go--” 

Cas’ hands frame Dean’s face, forcing Dean to look at him. “I’m coming back,” Cas promises. He grips Dean’s hair almost to the point of pain, but it keeps Dean’s mind from shattering. “Dean, you have to believe me. I’m coming back.” 

He stares at Dean for one long, eternal moment, before he kisses him. Dean melts into Cas, clutching him so tightly that it’s a mystery as to how Cas winds up at the door, but he does. Dean leans towards him, feeling empty and cold. 

Cas turns and looks at him. A dozen expressions cross his face as he allows his eyes to roam over Dean one last time. A thousand words swell in Dean’s chest--Don’t go, come back, don’t forget me, I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU--

But then the door closes and Cas is gone. 

Dean collapses back on Cas’ bed, its mattress scratchy and uncomfortable without a covering or sheets. He curls into himself, knees pressed to his chest, and settles in to wait. 

---

Three months later, Dean is awoken by the sound of the door creaking. He groans and shoves his face deeper into his pillow. “Benny, if you need your shit, it can wait until tomorrow. For now, I am asleep.” He drags his comforter up over his shoulder to punctuate the statement. 

He thinks that is the end of it. That should be the end of it. Benny, while occasionally wildly inappropriate, will usually fuck off when told to fuck off. However, his hypothesis is shattered when his bed dips at the middle with the weight of someone settling onto his mattress. 

“Benny, what the fuck--” He rolls over, freezing when he sees the silhouette of the person sitting on his bed. 

Benny doesn’t have that particular level of messy bedhead. Or those shoulders, tapering down into strong arms, almost delicate wrists, and elegant fingers. Benny certainly doesn’t have a thousand yard stare that manages to pierce through him even when the lights are off and the only available source of illumination are the faint lights from the sidewalk three floors below. 

Dean chokes on nothing but air and scrambles to sit up. His heart is beating a million miles a minute as it tries to crawl through his chest and out of his mouth. 

“Cas?” he finally chokes, clutching his comforter to his chest like a quivering Victorian heroine. 

A flash of white, a grin in the darkness. A strong warm hand, a hand that Dean can trust to catch him and lead him through the world, rests on his bicep. Dean feels the heat of it through his t-shirt. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. 

[hydrangeaho3]

I'm supposed to be your brother

summary: Wilbur gets mad at Tommy and somehow Phil's the one left to deal with the aftermath

a/n: this fic in no way represents the real people and is merely a work of fiction. If any CCs have a problem with it pls let me know. This is also part 1 of 3 parts. Anyways, happy reading!! 

PART ONE

By the time Wilbur has finally finished his last meeting, it's already 8:00 pm and he's dead tired. His meetings had been absolute bullshit today, some stupid managerial shit he doesn’t feel like taking care of. He’d been planning to go straight home, drink some wine and then pass out before he remembers that he's promised to stream today.

He’s only about a couple of blocks away from his office when the first raindrops hit his face. Wilbur looks up. The sky is slowly darkening and the clouds are beginning to gather. He keeps his pace, hoping that it won’t get too bad until he’s reached his office but his luck doesn’t hold out. He’s only a block away from his house when it really starts pissing it down.

“Shit”

He starts to run and is just pushing the lobby door open when he hears the first clap of thunder. The noise shudders through his entire body, chilling his bones even further. He sighs before making his way to his office in the sea of white doors that surround him. Wilbur pauses before the door. He already knows what's going to greet him inside. Now Wilbur isn’t a neat freak or anything like that, he is a streamer after all but he does pride himself on a certain level of cleanliness.

He cracks open his office door. A giant mess greets him. Papers are lying everywhere, his Home Home poster is lying on the floor. There are old takeout containers next to his keyboard. Frankly, it's a disgusting mess. He’d been meaning to clean up but lately, he's been so busy and not in the greatest headspace and so it had slipped his mind.

Wilbur resolves to clean up the mess after his stream today. He’d been planning on a casual stream, one that didn’t involve a lot of energy or require him to be constantly active and engaged. Maybe a few rounds of GeoGuessr or chatting with Phil and then ending the stream a little early.

He sits down in his chair, sweeps away some of the food containers before hovering over the GoLive button. He hesitates for a couple seconds before clicking on it. His starting soon screen opens up and he watches the viewers start to trickle in. He gives it ten minutes before turning on his face cam and looking over at his chat. The messages are slowly scrolling through the screen.  

Hi Wilbur!!

BIG MAN DUBS

POGCHAMP

Are you okay? You look tired :(

He’s streaming!!!

He decides to ignore that last one before commencing his starting spiel.

“Hey, guys, how we all doing today? Doing good? Well I’ll tell you how I’m doing and that's shit, I’m doing absolute shit. It’s fucking thundering outside right now. Can you hear it chat? It's so goddamn loud.”

“Anyways chat, I was thinking we could play some GeoGuessr you know, just relax and chill out today.” His chat seems pretty okay with that. They’re used to watching Wil play GeoGuessr for hours on end.

He’s been playing for almost an hour now before he hears the discord sound that signifies that someone’s joined his VC.

“BIG MAN. EYYYY WILBUR!!!! How are you???” Wilbur winces as Tommy’s voice plays through his earbuds. It's obnoxiously loud today, even more so than usual, and it’s grating on his ears.

“Hello TommyInnit, how are you?”

“I’ve been doing good Wilbur. Played some Among Us with Tubbo and Schlatt and the rest of the gang. Other than that I’ve been doing my Big Man Activities. You know how it is Wil” Wilbur smiles at the familiar response.

“Ah, I see. How was your Among Us stream?”

“It was really really good. I got to play with Pokimane Wil. THE Pokimane,” Tommy shouts, apparently very excited about this occurrence. “Remember the time we both played with her? Oh god, that must have been so awkward for you Wil. Imagine if Nikki had been there, it would have been so so awkward.”

Wilbur lets out a sigh, he’s really not in the mood to deal with this bit. He’d only planned to stream some GeoGuessr not talk to Tommy about Pokimane and Nikki.

If Wilbur had been blessed with the ability to see the future, he would have known that this moment was where it all started going downhill. Unfortunately for Wil, he wasn’t prophetic so he kept streaming.  

Tommy and Wilbur ended up switching to Minecraft and it doesn’t take long until Tommy’s coming up with some sort of bit involving drugs and an attempt to scam the players on the server. Normally, Wilbur would have loved to play along, leaning into the big brother and young brother dynamics but today it just feels wrong. Maybe it's the cold that has seeped into his bones or maybe it's the clutter surrounding his desk or maybe it's Tommy’s voice grating in his ears.

Tommy’s been talking about how he’s going to need some name tags so his plan works and Wilbur keeps trying to interrupt him and telling him that he’s not in the mood for this bit but it's to no avail.

“Wilbur, Wilbur, what do you think of my plan? I think it’s really good but I need some name tags, oh- I also need some diamonds.” he keeps going and going and is somehow unable to tell that Wilbur is teetering over the edge.

“Tommy, tomm-”

“Oh, they’re some diamonds back in Pogtopia. Oh man, this is such a good plan Wil. No ones going to see it coming,”

“I don’t thin-”

“There’s a fucking reason people call me the biggest man on this SMP. Right Wilbur, right?”

And that's when Wilbur falls over the edge he’s been so delicately balancing on for the better part of two hours. He mutes Tommy over discord before closing Minecraft, filling his stream with only his face cam.

“Alright guys, I think that's where we’re going to be ending today. Hope you guys enjoyed the stream and I am going to be sending you off to Philza. Make sure you guys are nice in his chat and don’t spam him. Okay? Bye chat,” Right before he ends his stream for good he spares one glance at his chat.

bye Wilbur!

adios chat :)

did wilbur seem mad at tommy?

Wilbur felt really off today. Hope he feels better soon.

they really are like brothers

tommy was being a little shit today

Somehow Wilbur manages to ignore all of the texts commenting on how much they loved his stream and how much they enjoyed the Wilbur and Tommy interactions and instead all he focuses on is the last message he managed to read before the stream ended.

tommy was being a little shit today

“Hey Wil, that was a great stream today, I had a lot of fun”

When the silence becomes too loud and Wilbur still hasn’t answered Tommy began talking all at once again.

“Wil you okay? You seemed kind of off this stream,” This time it was the cold that had seeped into his bones, it was the clutter surrounding his desk, and most of all it was Tommy’s voice. As loud as ever, abrasive and unceasing in his ears.

“TOMMY. Do you ever stop talking? God, it’s so fucking annoying. You need to learn when to shut up,” Wilbur’s panting like he’s just run a marathon instead of playing Minecraft for the past hour.

The silence begins to ring, neither of them saying a word in hopes the other will have the right words to make it okay again. Instead, there's a small pained sound from Tommy’s end and then “I’m sorry Wil, I’m really sorry. I just wanted to- nevermind. I’m just sorry, really sorry,”

There’s a small click that signifies that Tommy’s left the call and then it’s just Wil, stewing in the storm he’s just created.

Oh God, what has he done? He- he just told Tommy to shut up. He had just verified every single fear in Tommy’s head. He was supposed to be the one that was there for Tommy, not the one hurting him. How many times had Tommy come to him, crippled with self-doubt and and how many times had Wilbur dispelled his fears with promises that Tommy was enough. He was supposed to be his big brother.

[dcbutinamrev]

Twelve, anger, for Lams

Hehehe. Angsty lams. My favorite-

Modern au for this one but with their historical apperances of course.

Not as angsty as I had hoped it to be, but at least it's still something-

***

Seventeen-year-old Alexander Hamilton huffs out a breath as he leans back against his chair at his desk in his dorm, running a hand through his tangled auburn hair, massaging his brow as he lets out a yawn, checking the time on the bottom right corner of his laptop.

12:45 AM.

He groans again and flops his head down on the desk, letting his arms completely drop at his sides and bangs his head over and over again and whimpers. He's been sitting in this same exact chair, staring at this computer for more than he should, working on an essay for Mr. Washington, not only his English teacher at King's High School but also his foster father. Yet, despite his powerful way with the English language and its words, Hamilton could not somehow come up with words. For once, he's actually speechless.

Hamilton groans as he tips his head up, resting his chin on top of his desk as he stares back at the screen, grimacing at the bright light despite the dimness of the lamp on his desk. He wants to stop. He wants to take a break. But he knows that if he does so, he will never have the inspiration or motivation to pick back up where he left off.

He sighs heavily sitting back up, cracking his knuckles and craning his neck side to side, quaffing down his cup of coffee in one gulp and cracks his knuckles before continue typing once more, soft music blaring in his ears to help him concentrate.

"Oh my God, George," Hamilton grumbles as he types away, his fingers jittery. "Why do you do this to me?" A scoff, which sounded more like a laugh. "Your own son!"

Hamitlon huffs again and continues nonetheless. After roughly ten more minutes of work, Hamilton smiles to himself as he hears the bed creak from behind him and the bedsheets ruffle. He glances over his shoulder and he feels all his burdens wash away when he sees his beautiful Laurens asleep on their bed, his legs curled up to his chest, the bedsheets up to his chin as he snores, his face buried into his pillow, his golden honey hair flowing around him like a halo.

Hamilton's angel: John Laurens, his boyfriend and a military man.

Hamilton sighs and saves his document before finally decides to call it a night, turning off the lamp and straightening his workspace before finally being able to get into comfy pajamas before clmbing into thier bed. He lets out a long sigh, followed by a deep yawn as he tries to cover it with the back of his hand. But fails.

Hamilton smiles softly as he gazes up at his dashing soldier. Tucking wisps of blonde hair out of his eye, cradling his hand against Laurens's jaw, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. Hamilton pulls back slightly and frowns when he hears a soft ding. He furrows his brows, shifting slightly so he could see Laurens's phone on the bedside table, wondering who on Earth could be texting him this late at night.

After a few seconds, Hamitlon crawls back down, brushing it off. He curls himself agaisnt Laurens's arms, his head just beneath Laurens's chin and closes his eyes.

It's about forty-five minutes later, does Hamilton hear the ding again. More digging coming through. He groans irritably and snaps his eyes open, his back agaisnt Laurens's chest now as his arms are around Hamilton's waist, his cheek against Hamilton's shoulder. Hamilton grunts and shifts around as he crawls over Laurens to figure out just who the hell is texting his dear Jack at nearly 2:00 in the morning.

Which is a mistake.

Manning: I am your girlfriend, Jack. I am and will always be.

Hamilton's heart stops, his breath catching in his throat as he reads the name "Manning" and the word "girlfriend." He glances down at the sleeping blonde before back at his phone in Hamilton's hand.

He never recalled Laurens having a girlfriend during the time they've known each other.

Manning: I am to be engaged to you. As your wife by the end of the school year.

Hamilton gasps, nearly dropping Laurens's phone but catches it. He flops back down onto his side of the bed, watching the screen, his eyes blinking fast and chest squeezing.

Manning: Your father arranged me to be your wife, John. In hopes it would cure you. And in all honesty, I hope so too. As you were truly made for me. Not him.

Hamilton doesn't know what to think. Doesn't know what to believe. He glances at Laurens and then back at the phone in his hands before back at his Laurens and then back at the phone again. He had never been in a realtionship with anyone beisdes Laurens. He had never had sex with anyone but Laurens. In the school's eyes, Hamilton is truly the most kind and trusting person.

But to this...this...Manning?

To Laurens?

"Is all of this real?" Hamilton whispers to himself.

"Is all of what real?" a deep rumble coming from beside him.

Hamilton yelps, Laurens's phone flopping onto the bed, hiding under the covers. He glacnes down to find Laurens smiling softly, his cheek in his palm and his strong, muscular arm around his waist. Hamilton swallows and pulls Laurens's arm off before rolling over onto his side, his back facing Laurens.

This catches Laurens by surprise. "Alex...?"

Hamilton doesn't respond. Just stares blinking at the window above his desk across from him. He grimaces and hisses when he feels Laurens's hand on his bicep.

"Alexander...? What's wrong?" Laurens asks, his voice pleading.

"Who the hell is Manning?" Hamilton grumbles through clenched teeth, his voice tight and flat.

Laurens stiffens, wanting to explain himself for not telling Hamilton about his arranged girlfriend in which his father gave him in hopes it would "cure" him but news flash, it didn't. But in all honesty, Laurens was a coward. He was afraid for if he did tell Hamilton, he would lose him.

"Alex..." Laurens begines but Hamilton cuts him off.

"No. Don't 'Alex' me," Hamilton hisses, rolling over onto his side to face Laurens. "Just get to the fucking point. Who the hell is she?"

Laurens doesn't reply.

Hamilton only shakes his head, sitting himself up. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me about her?"

Laurens ducks his chin, avoiding Hamilton's eyes.

"John..." Hamilton tries, his voice calmer.

Laurens sighs as he turns back to face him.

"Was anything you said real?!" Hamilton snaps. His chest starts to heave as he fumbles over his words, tears blurrying his eyes as he tries to understand, tries to comprehed. "The future you invisioned us having? Us, graduating high school and college together, you proposing to me and marrying me and becoming your husband. Us raising a family...is...is...is all of that...was any of that real?"

"Alex..." Laurens huffs, trying to reach for Hamilton's hands but Hamilton yanks them back towards his chest and glances over his shoulder, sniffing. He feels somethig wet trickle down his cheek. Laurens sighs and clears his thraot. "I don't love her."

"Bullshit," Hamilton scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Laurens shakes his head. "No. I'm serious. I don't."

"Then...then why--" Hamilton slowly cranes his neck over his shoulder, his vision blurried.

"It was arranged," Laurens admits. "My father...well...my father thought it'd be best to get me a wife in hopes it would cure me of this...of us..." He gestures with his hands at the both of them. Laurens ducks his chin towards his chest once more. "I was a fool. A coward for not telling you about Martha. I was...I was afraid..."

Hamilton sniffs and crawls closer towards him. "Afraid?"

Laurens nods sheepishly and glances over his shoulder. "After Kinlcoh...Francis...my ex...I also thought it would help, in all honesty. But you. You showed up."

Hamilton smiles sheepishly to himself, his cheeks flushing with color. Laurens grins slightly and presses his lips to Hamilton's forehead.

"And you changed my life," Laurens continues, leaning against the pillows as he wraps his arm around Hamilton, Hamilton resting his head on Laurens's shoulder as he listens to his voice. "You changed my whole life, Alexander. I love you." Hamilton looks up at this. "I love you so much. And only you. I should have told you sooner, but...I was a coward...all I can do now is hope that you wil forgive me. Though I don't fully expect you to forgive me instantly, in fact I understand if you need more time--"

Hamilton cuts Laurens off with a kiss, pressing his lips firm to Laurens.

Hamilton pulls away slowly and strokes Laurens's cheekbone. And chuckles. "John...you ramble."

"My apologies," Laurens laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck before turning to Hamilton, his expression softening and his smile fadiing. "I truly am sorry, my dear boy. You know I never intended to hurt you. I'd never. I'd give you my life."

Hamilton feels his lips turning upward as he nods in agreement, grasping Laurens's hands in his. "And I'll give you mine."

"My dear boy," Laurens huffs which sounds like a laugh as he lays back against the pillows, pressing his cheek against Hamilton's head, kissing his temple. Hamilton curls up beside him.

"I'm yours forever, Jack."

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Night and Day

Whumptober Day 29: I Think I Need A Doctor Prompt: Reluctant Bedrest

Illinois is stuck in the clinic recovering from his concussion, but he's not the only injured ego in the clinic. Yandere is there too, and both he and Lio are anxious to leave the clinic, but for different reasons. (cont. from “Fall From Grace”)

Warnings: References to injury, some angst

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

~

Illinois isn’t the only one in the clinic right now, but as much as he hates being injured and stuck in bed, he understands he’s the one better off.

After all, he only has a concussion to push through, though it is a pretty bad one. One bed over, though, is Yandere, who has a couple fractured vertebrae, a broken shoulder, a gunshot wound to the stomach, and a concussion nearly as bad as Lio’s.

Lio had heard the story in pieces as Dr. Iplier treated Yandere and got him settled; the walls of the clinic rooms are thin, and Lio overhears almost everything without even trying. Apparently, Wilford accidentally shot Yandere while he was in the catwalks of the studio, causing him to fall and land right on his back. Lio may curse his bad luck, but maybe it was good that he fell on his head. At least he was still able to walk out of that cave.

But he won’t be doing any walking for a while. Dr. Iplier had taken one look at him and pretty much demanded he rest and stay in the clinic for further monitoring. “Rest” includes physical rest, but also cognitive rest.

“No reading, no screens, limited social interactions and only the lightest of activity,” Dr. Iplier had stressed, “And that’s for the next four or five days, maybe longer if I feel like you need it.”

Lio hates it, but there’s one person who doesn’t.

“Lio, doll, you almost died!” Yancy exclaims the first time Lio complains, “Youse got any idea how worried I was about you!? I call ya, you sound real fuckin’ weird, you tell me ya fell and hit your head, and then you stop talkin’ and won’t answer no matter what I say to youse!! I half-thought youse was dead, Lio!”

“I feel like I’m gonna die,” Lio mutters, “Of boredom. There’s nothing to do! I can’t even listen to an audiobook or stretch my legs out of this bed.”

“It’s so ya don’t get brain damage, doofus,” Yancy scolds him, pouting in a way that makes Lio want to kiss him, though he knows it isn’t the time. “Besides, hon, you could be worse. I just got done talkin’ to Yandere.”

Right, Yandere.

As much as Lio pities himself right about now, he can’t help but feel bad for Yandere. To be injured so grievously is one thing, but to be injured, even accidentally, by someone you love? He can’t imagine how it would feel, mainly because he can’t imagine Yancy or Magnum ever hurting him. Somehow Magnum is even more doting than Yancy when he visits.

“How are ye feeling, lad?” Magnum asks fretfully, puttering over Lio with his huge brows drawn together with worry. “Ye need a pillow, or another blanket, maybe yer hungry–”

“Mags, relax,” Lio tells him, unable to keep from chuckling, “I’m fine, all I need is to get outta here and back to adventuring again.” He sighs. “No chance of that yet, though.”

“Afraid not,” Magnum agrees, “I’ll warn ye now that if ye try leavin’ the clinic before Doc wants ye to, I’ll be puttin’ ye back to bed meself.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Lio admits. There’s not a single person in this building that Magnum couldn’t toss over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carry wherever he pleases – except maybe the Googles, but even then, Lio bets Magnum could do it.

Yandere gets visitors, too. Yancy, of course, whenever he visits Lio. Chrome too, mostly to entertain Yandere by the sound of their conversations. Dr. Iplier probably checks on Yandere more than is strictly necessary, certainly more than he checks on Lio. Dark comes by too, and while it makes Lio uneasy to be around him, he’s not nearly as intimidating when he’s asking Yandere how he feels for the third time that day.

The only person close to Yandere who doesn’t visit him is Wilford.

Lio knows Wilford to be devil-may-care, unperturbed by blood and injury, even when it hurts those he loves. He’s heard stories from Bim about the times Wilford has gotten Bim shot or stabbed by accident, and according to Bim, Wilford never cared much about those. Half the time he didn’t even apologize, and he was never scared away from visiting Bim while he was healing. But hurting Yandere so gravely must’ve managed to give Wilford some guilt, enough to keep him away from Yandere’s bedside.

“Did you ask onii-san to visit?” Yandere asks Dark for the dozenth time.

“I did, love,” Dark replies for the dozenth time, “He always tells me he will, and then when I ask him why he hasn’t, he says he will this time, and so on.” He sighs. “I know from experience that getting Wilford to do something he doesn’t want to do is…challenging, to say the least.”

Lio can imagine.

“But why not??” Yandere whines, “I miss him, and I know he feels bad, but…I thought you said he was okay.”

“He certainly acts like it,” Dark says, “But there’s no way he isn’t still thinking about it. At this point, though, trying to talk to him about it will only make him worse.”

“I guess,” Yandere mutters. No, sniffles, Lio realizes.

“There now, love,” Dark soothes, “No need for tears. Just because Wilford isn’t visiting doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You know as well as I do how much he loves you.”

“I know,” Yandere says, quiet and sad, “I just…I want to talk to him, and I want him to stop blaming himself.”

After a couple days of this, Lio wakes up in the middle of the night to soft weeping.

He immediately feels awkward; he shouldn’t be hearing Yandere’s private grief. He debates pressing his call button to attract Dr. Iplier, so he can notice Yandere’s tears and comfort him. But that feels too weird, too underhanded. But he also can’t just lay there and listen to Yandere cry. It’s true that he and Yandere don’t get along the best – well, more like Yandere doesn’t get along with him. He still hasn’t forgiven Lio for breaking Yancy’s heart all that time ago, even though Yancy has. He’s civil enough to Lio for Yancy’s sake, but you’d never catch him alone with Lio if he can’t help it. Still, Lio can’t help but feel bad for Yandere, not to mention how tired he is of lying here doing nothing. That’s what makes him speak up.

“Um, hey…” he says, not sure how else to begin.

Yandere keeps crying. Either he can’t hear Lio or doesn’t know he’s being spoken to.

“Hey, Yandere,” Lio tries again, louder this time, “You alright?”

A dumb question, but Lio doesn’t know what else to ask. Yandere hears him that time, and his weeping stutters as he prepares to speak.

“No, y-yarou,” Yandere mutters, “The hell are you listening f-for anyway?”

Lio doesn’t know what “yarou” means, but he doubts it’s kind.

“I wasn’t trying to listen,” Lio says, “But you woke me up. It’s pretty to hear what’s going on in your room, even if I try not to.”

“How m-much have you heard?” Yandere asks warily.

“Most of it, I think,” Lio admits.

There’s a pause.

“Great,” Yandere mutters, annoyed enough that his tears are petering off. “If that’s true, what the hell are you asking me if I’m okay for? You already know what’s going on.”

“I’m trying to be nice,” Lio says, a little annoyed himself, “I didn’t want you to cry, and now you’re not crying anymore, so you’re welcome.”

“Ugh,” Yandere says, and Lio can practically hear the way his lip curls in irritation, “Whatever.”

Another pause.

“Sorry about…everything with Wilford,” Lio finally says, “Sounds tough.”

“I guess,” Yandere says, quiet. He thinks for a moment. “What happened, it…it reminded him of something. Have you seen the “Who Killed Markiplier” series yet?”

“No,” Lio answers truthfully. He hasn’t watched much of Mark’s videos, though he’s heard that particular series mentioned by the other egos before.

“Well, you’d understand if you had,” Yandere scoffs. “I just…” He sighs. “I just wish I could talk to him myself, get out of this stupid bed and find him.”

“You’re telling me,” Lio groans, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve wanted to get out of here for four days already.”

“Didn’t you get here four days ago?”

“Exactly.”

Yandere snorts despite himself, and Lio chuckles as Yandere quiets himself.

“You know, I think Yan-kun can tell how thin these walls are,” Yandere sighs, “Maybe not consciously, but he always seemed worried about getting overheard in here. Guess I should’ve taken the hint.”

“Sounds like Yancy,” Lio laughs, “But why would he be worried about getting overheard? I’m the only one here to listen.”

“Because,” Yandere replies, “He feels like you aren’t taking what happened to you seriously enough.”

“I mean, I knew that,” Lio says.

“Do you, though?” Yandere asks. A pause. “I was there when he called you, you know. He thought you were going to die. When you stopped answering him he thought he’d heard your last words. I had to tell Yami and Wil what was going on because he was crying too hard.”

Lio’s heart twists over itself. He had known Yancy was scared and worried, Yancy had said so himself, but he hadn’t known how bad it’d been for him.

“Really?” he can’t help but ask.

“Yeah,” Yandere says, “When you got brought to the clinic, Kaizoku-kun had to drag him out so Shishi could actually look him over. And now that you’re getting better, he’s still worried about you because he’s afraid you’re gonna go out and get hurt again, and it’ll be even worse this time.”

The worst part is that Lio can imagine it. He can imagine Magnum having to scoop up a screaming, sobbing Yancy and carry him away so Dr. Iplier could do his job. He can imagine that every time he complained about being cooped up, every time he wished he could go back to adventuring, every time he wanted to get out of bed and back into the wilderness stabbed Yancy in the heart to hear it. That all those wishes to go back to normal made Yancy fear what could happen to Lio next, made him fear that Lio had learned nothing and would go out and get himself killed. Lio hates that he couldn’t see it, hates that it took someone pointing out to him how distraught he made his boyfriend feel.

“Fuck,” Lio mumbles, “I guess I better apologize for worrying him.”

“Yeah, you should,” Yandere affirms, a tiny bit of smugness in his voice. Lio barely cares.

“I’ll fix my thing in the morning,” Lio says, “I hope your thing gets fixed soon, too.”

A pause, the longest one yet.

“Um, thanks,” Yandere mumbles, “You too, I guess.”

It takes Lio a while to fall back asleep as he tries to think of what to say to Yancy. It occurs to him that Wilford might be feeling similarly; wrestling with the knowledge that he hurt someone he loves so much and fearing that an apology isn’t enough.

~~~

Yancy doesn’t visit Lio until the afternoon, but Lio still hasn’t come up with an apology that feels right. It all feels too out of nowhere or not good enough, or like he’s apologizing for getting hurt more than he is for not taking it seriously. He knows Yancy wouldn’t blame him for a freak accident, apologizing for that piece of it feels wrong. But even just apologizing doesn’t feel like enough. This wouldn’t be the first time Lio hurt Yancy, and he wonders with some bitter sadness why Yancy still puts up with the pain Lio causes him.

So when Yancy comes in to talk to Lio, he acts like everything’s normal. He doesn’t complain about being stuck this time, but he can’t find the words to apologize – until Yancy starts to leave.

“Alright, I’ll letcha go,” Yancy says, getting up from the chair he’s sitting in, “But maybe I’ll come back later if Doc lets me.”

“Wait,” Lio says, internally cursing himself, “I have something I need to tell you.”

“Youse coulda said it anytime these past ten minutes, doll,” Yancy says teasingly, “I’m gettin’ outta here before Doc yells at me for makin’ ya use your brain too much.”

“Yancy, hold on!” Lio insists, reaching out and taking Yancy’s wrist, stopping him from walking away, “It’s important, babe, I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“Look, Lio, I know youse hate being bored,” Yancy says, and Lio can see the tired sadness in Yancy’s eyes now that he’s looking for it. “But youse gotta sit tight until Doc says you’re okay.”

“That’s just it, Yance, I…” Lio sighs, deciding it’s best to just be plain about it. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Yancy asks, confused enough that he doesn’t try to pull his arm out of Lio’s hand.

“You’ve been worried about me,” Lio says, “Even after I got rescued, you’ve been worried, and…and I’m sorry I haven’t been taking that worry seriously, or taking my recovery seriously.”

As he talks, Yancy’s expression goes from confusion to shock to holding back emotion, especially when Lio pulls Yancy back to his bedside, hand moving from his arm to clasp his hand in his own.

“I shouldn’t have kept blowing you off,” Lio murmurs, “And I should’ve been more focused on getting better instead of just getting out of here.”

Yancy sits back down in the chair by Lio’s bed, looking down.

“I said I half-thought youse was dead before,” Yancy mumbles, voice thick, “But that ain’t true. I fully thought you were dead, or about to be. I was such a mess I could barely tell Dark what was happening. I worry every time you travel, and it just…” Yancy chokes a little. “It was my worst fear come true. And hearin’ youse complain about every little thing, about having to stay here and heal, just…made me wanna scream sometimes. Made me feel like youse didn’t care, about me or about yourself.”

“Jailbird,” Lio murmurs, reaching out his free hand to cup Yancy’s cheek. The action makes Yancy finally look up, and Lio isn’t surprised to see and feel tears on his cheeks, but it still breaks his heart. “I do love you, and I sure do care about getting better. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” He strokes Yancy’s cheek, catching tears. “I’m thinking I’ll stay home for a while once I heal. Maybe take you on one of the local hiking trails, one where the worst that could happen to me is a sprained ankle, but otherwise just chill out.”

“Is that just to make me feel better?” Yancy asks, managing a grin, “It’s workin’, for the record.”

“Kinda,” Lio admits, “But I’d also rather not go out and get myself hurt again.”

“Good answer,” Yancy chuckles, leaning forward to kiss Lio. Lio meets him partway, tastes salt on his lips.

“I love you,” Lio murmurs as they pull away.

“Youse said that already,” Yancy teases, “But I love youse too.” After a quiet moment, Yancy sighs. “Now I really gotta go, before Doc realizes I’m still here.”

“Alright, alright,” Lio laughs, letting go of Yancy’s hand. “I might get to leave tomorrow, though; he told me this morning. I’ll finally be able to talk to you longer than ten minutes at a time.”

“We’ll see,” Yancy says, though he’s still smiling. “See youse, freebird.”

“Bye, angel,” Lio replies as Yancy leaves the room.

Lio expects Yandere to say something after Yancy leaves, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. Maybe he’s sleeping, or too engrossed in whatever he’s doing to eavesdrop. Either way, Lio is glad Yandere brought the problem to his attention, even if it was just to have something to be smug about.

Lio can only hope Yandere’s problem can be solved soon.

~~~

That night, Lio is once again woken by the sound of Yandere crying. But before he can think to talk to him again, he hears another, much deeper voice soothing him.

“I thought you were waiting for me to visit,” playfully chides the accented voice of Wilford, “What are all these tears for?”

“Y-You wouldn’t visit,” Yandere whimpers, “I started th-thinking that maybe, maybe it was m-me…”

“It wasn’t you,” Wilford says, “It…it wasn’t you at all.” His voice sounds far away.

“Yami said what h-happened reminded you of…back then,” Yandere murmurs carefully, still sniffling a little. “I guess it makes s-sense.”

“I still feel bad,” Wilford admits, “You’d gotten hurt, by me no less, and all I did was stand there.” A pause. “I was too wrapped up in myself to worry about you.”

Lio is shocked. To call Wilford “self-involved” is an understatement, at least as far as Lio knew. He knew Wilford was feeling guilty, but for him to have such self-awareness is unexpected. Now Lio feels bad about eavesdropping, but it’s not like he can’t not hear what’s happening. Wilford’s voice carries even without him trying.

“It wasn’t your fault!” Yandere exclaims, “You didn’t mean to hurt me, and I’m fine now! Or I will be soon, Shishi said I only have to be here for a few more days.”

“I know,” Wilford sighs, “But then I went and made you upset while you were trying to get better. I knew I should see you, and I wanted to, I just…wasn’t sure if I could…manage.”

“I get it,” Yandere says softly, so quiet that Lio almost doesn’t hear it. “I have my own stuff. Not like you, but…we both have weird stuff in our brains.”

“That’s a way to describe it,” Wilford chuckles.

“I’m glad you came, though,” Yandere adds, “Even though it’s so late at night. Why now, anyway?”

“Figured I’d already waited too long,” Wilford says flippantly, “And besides, I knew you wouldn’t expect it! Was it a fun surprise?”

“Hai!” Yandere laughs, “But not so loud, Wil, if Shishi hears you and comes in he’ll get mad at you for visiting so late!”

“Oh, let Dr. Crabbypants get mad at me,” Wilford scoffs, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Ah, now he’s starting to sound like the Wilford that Lio is more familiar with.

“I’m also tired,” Yandere giggles, “And if I try to stay up all night, Shishi’ll definitely notice in the morning. And if I’m really tired, I won’t be able to cover for you!”

“Well, if you insist, I suppose I’ll let you get some sleep,” Wilford chuckles, “But I’ll be back to bother you again tomorrow.”

“Promise?” Yandere asks earnestly.

“Of course, otouto,” Wilford answers, gentle and fond.

“Good,” Yandere says, audibly relieved. “I love you, onii-san.”

“Love you too, kid,” Wilford replies, before the signature poof of him teleporting away sounds from Yandere’s room.

The last sound Lio hears from Yandere’s room is a happy sigh and the rustling of Yandere settling into bed for sleep.

Lio does the same, feeling much better at heart than he did the night before.

[walpurga-nacht-academy]

I just read the rose grimoire translation and wow. I keep going back and rereading it because it’s very intense. You’ve done a great job of portraying the rose witch’s feelings— her desperation, her longing and her love in all forms. Somehow you made her tale sound confusing but also have depth. The way you kept the motif of love and beauty in such a sad story was very skillful. This piece of lore was complex and made me feel nostalgic for some reason and I applaud you. I’m sure the other witches’ stories will be just as intriguing. Though it does suck that selkies are basically extinct because of human greed and lust. That’s the part that stuck with me the most. Probably because it’s very real and has happened before in history. Sorry about the rambling, this wasn’t meant to be this long

Aaaah! Thank you so much for your kind words, Anon! And don’t worry! I don’t mind long asks at all! I’ve very touched to receive this feedback!

I was inspired by the way Twist keeps to real life by discussing issues pertaining to actual modern or past events, but in a way that fits a fantasy realm and tried my best to follow its lead. The witch’s tale is intentionally set to be confusing since she’s telling it in an oral style so it suffers at the hands of her lack of focus and instinct to repress the horror she had to endure. 

And yes! Unfortunately human intervention has often led to many tragedies occurring in history, and some by wilful maliciousness, rather than just ignorance or stupidity. The theme is a bit dark, but I wanted to do justice to the tales of selkies that we hear about in folklore. I’m glad to see that it worked!

Thank you so much again for this ask! I hope you’ll enjoy the future stories of the other witches as well! 

[inkribbon796]

The Lost Ones Ch. 5

Chapter 5: I saw a Shadow Flying High

Summary: Dark’s new little wards get to have their first lunch with Dark.

A/N: Title for this and the concept for this entire story were when I was listening to Lost Boy by Ruth B. it’s a really good song.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Illinois woke up, very suddenly, when his chair was kicked out from under him. It was dipping his body in a cold shock when he slammed on the door.

“Wha—” Illinois looked around and saw another kid his age just cackling at him, he was holding a spiral bound notebook. “Hey!”

Illinois looked around, disoriented and scared as he looked around at the unfamiliar room.

“Arthur,” Dark sharply reprimanded. “Why in the seven circles would you think you could hurt your brother?”

“He’s not my brother,” Arthur spat as another part of Dark’s aura picked Illinois up and picked a piece of carpet fluff from his hair.

Arthur glared at Dark before kicked another chair started walking towards the only window. Illinois realized that there were other kids in the room, two of them hiding behind Dark.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Dark said casually, a slight smile on his face. “We’re on the second floor and that roof is at a slant.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Arthur told him as Dark watched with an amused smile as Arthur opened the window and stepped out, immediately slipping.

He barely slipped off the roof before he fell into a Void portal and tumbled back into the room Dark was in. Arthur was screaming in terror and was cut off when one of Dark’s echoes closed the window, this time locking it, and looked Arthur in the eyes. “When I tell you something it’s not to tell you what to do, it’s because things like the roof are not safe to be climbed on without a harness.”

Arthur glared at him, before looking around wildly, “No! Where—”

Dark held out Arthur’s spiral bound notebook with his aura, “You should take care of your things.”

His glare got somehow angrier and he snatched the notebook back. Dark motioned to a rip in reality. Arthur shied away from it for a second before reaching up to touch the portal and startled when his hand went through it. He pulled his hand back and repeated it.

“What’s it feel like?” Illinois asked, more curious than he was angry.

“Tickles,” Arthur smiled, trying to look around the portal to see if he could see his own hand.

“Well, let’s go,” Dark motioned to the portal, already walking to the portal and half-stepping through. “We’ve got an early lunch to catch.”

The two kids trying to hold onto him followed him through and Illinois was quick to rush after him. They kids found that this other room had a table with several chairs around it. Eventually they started taking seats. Illinois rushed for the seat next to where Dark was already standing. Kay had the chair on Dark’s other side. Á̵̶ń̢̀̀͞d̶̛͘͞͝ ̸̡//////s̷͜͏a͏̷ţ̷̛ ̸̕͟͞n̶͜é̷̢͝x͡͝t̴͡ ̴̨̨̕t̶́ǫ́͝ ̶̢͞͞h͝͡i͜͞m͏̷̡͡͠,̨̛͘̕͝ ̸̀̀̕ļ͏̷̀͢o̸̷̴̴̢o͏͝ḱ̷̕i̸̡̛͟͡n̶g͝͏̸ ̴̕a͟t̵̢ ͏̵̸Ḑ҉̸a̵̷̡r̸̛͘͘͝k̀͠.Arthur just took one look at Illinois and walked over to the other side of the table from him. Yancy walked over to Illinois, nervous, looking nervously at Arthur. “Hey can I sit next ta youse? I uh . . .”

Yancy glanced back at Arthur, and yelped a little bit when Arthur glared at him.

“You can switch with me,” Kay spoke up, already getting out of his seat.

“Really?” Yancy looked relieved, already walking towards Kay. Illinois didn’t say anything as Kay pulled his chair closer to him, still holding onto his new rabbit plushie.

Yan just sat next to Arthur, kicking her feet a little bit, all smiles, she turned and said, “Hey.”

Arthur pouted and slammed his chin on the table, looking over at Dark who was talking to a waiter. They were speaking in a language none of the kids knew. And then the waiter scattered a menu card at every seat.

“I thought I said we only needed eight chairs,” Dark reminded.

“Oh, I heard—” the waiter started before looking back at Dark and suddenly paling. “I can get rid of it, sorry about that.”

“No it’s fine,” Dark dismissed. “Besides it makes the table look somewhat symmetrical.”

“What drinks can I get everyone?” The waiter asked.

“I want a burger!” Arthur announced.

“Drinks first,” Dark corrected. “Coke, water, tea, things like that.”

“Coke,” Arthur glared at Dark. The answer was almost universal across the table, Dark taking a green tea and ordering, “Wil is not allowed to order wine, I don’t care what you have to do, do not give it to him. Tell him you will and then don’t do it.”

“Yes, Sir,” the waiter answered. “Does anyone know what they want yet?”

“A burger,” Arthur repeated.

“Now, Arthur,” Dark walked over to Arthur to start talking to him.

Kay leaned over to Illinois, “Can you read?”

“Uh, yeah?” Illinois answered.

“I thought I could, but I can’t read this,” Kay told Illinois.

Illinois looked over at Kay’s menu, and his brain felt like it had turned to mush. Whatever the menu was written in, it wasn’t in any type of letters he had even seen in his life. The only recognizable thing was numbers by almost every line. On the other side were drink labels.

“Uh,” Illinois stalled, “uh . . .”

“Why are these numbers the same?” Kay asked.

“Maybe they’re the same thing?” Illinois answered. “Like they’re made of the same stuff.”

“What’s would be the lowest?” Kay asked.

“I don’t know, that stuff they make the nuggets out of? That meat pad stuff that comes in that little,” Illinois shaped his hands to make a shape of small container of some kind.”

“I like that stuff,” Kay said.

“Uh, Mister?” Illinois called out to the waiter, and pointed to what Kay had pointing to earlier. “Can I have this?”

“Me too?” Kay added.

Dark stopped mid-argument, looking over at Illinois, “Do you even know what you’re asking for?”

Illinois paused for a second too long, and because he’d forgotten what the reddish-pink sandwich meat stuff was, he answered, “Chicken?”

Dark and the waiter traded a look, Dark sighing, “He’s not wrong, but take some of the kick out.”

“Alright,” the waiter said and Dark helped coach the other kids with their orders. He spoke briefly to the waiter in that unfamiliar language, to the kids at least.

“So,” Dark sat down next to Illinois again. “You boys like spicy food?”

“No?” Illinois asked.

“Well that’s what you two ordered,” Dark smirked. “Not bad though.”

“Really?” Illinois felt his chest almost burst with happiness.

A portal ripped open and there was a deep boisterous laugh and Dark watched Wilford raced out with Bim on his shoulders, both of them laughing like something had been particularly funny. If Dark had to put a bet on that joke the punchline was murder.

“Darky! You would not believe the day we’ve had!” Wil chuckled, before looking in confusion at the other kids. “Huh, how long have we had six?”

“For a while now,” Dark lied, to everyone but Wil it was obviously a lie. But Wil shrugged, taking Bim off his shoulders.

Bim looked around the room, seeming confused and a little wounded.

Illinois took one look at the boy that had been brought in. He knew exactly what he was. He knew a family’s kid when he saw one. Arthur seemed to recognize it in Bim as well.

Dark was suddenly in front of Bim, rubbing some red substance off Bim’s face, “You’re such a messy eater, you still hungry?”

“No,” Bim huffed. “Who are they?”

“Your siblings,” Dark responded. “You were asking for playmates and that’s what siblings are. Besides, this will be a good opportunity for you. I’ll have some dumplings brought up, you need some real food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Bim repeated angrily.

“Then you can take a seat and wait for the others to finish,” Dark told him sternly.

Bim glared at him but stomped over to the seat opposite Arthur.

[anachilles]

hey! about ficlet ideas about hanna x jonas maybe one where when jonas is sober the next day he apologizes for trying to kiss her?

Hey anon!! I was originally planning on only doing short lil ficlets for these prompts, but after having so many emotions because of Friday’s clip of them, this one got away from me. So thanks for the prompt/inspiration!!

Words: 2.6k

Summary: Jonas needs to apologise for the way he acted the night before, and may have gotten more than he bargained for when Hanna puts everything into perspective for him. Whether he necessarily wanted to hear it or not.

» [ read on AO3 ] ☼

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[ SAMSTAG; 12:16 ]

In the stark light of day, clear (but sore) headed, Jonas knewhe’d fucked up. Actually, no, he knew that last night pretty muchinstantaneously after he did it.

Waking up, thankfully in his bed (God bless Matteo for seeing tothat), feeling like he’d been ran over by a semi-truck and regretting what hedid the night before was becoming a regular occurrence for him lately, and hecertainly didn’t feel any better for it.

After he woke up, he just sort of lay there and contemplated theaborted move he’d tried to make on Hanna, cringing through every second of thememory. The whole night was submerged in a drunken fog, but that particularmemory cut through it and he recalled it clear as day.

Jonas couldn’t believe he’d done that.

He was wasted.

He was upset.

He missed her so fucking much.

He... was an asshole for putting her in that position.

Despite their rocky break-up, the last thing he’d ever want inthe world was to hurt her, or make her feel uncomfortable.

Jonas closed his eyes against the sun streaming in through thegap in the curtains, and groaned as he tried to scrub some of the ache out ofhis eyes with his fingers.

In the cold light of day he just felt like a massive arcshloch. Andit didn’t sit comfortably with him.

Hoisting himself upright, Jonas grabbed his phone from itscharger on the bedside table. He sort of dreaded to unlock it, flopping downagain against the pillows.

Whatsapp: [Hanna]: Did you get home okay?

There went that funny feeling in his chest again. The dumb,pathetic one that raised its head any time Hanna so much as acknowledged himthese days.

He took a moment to scroll up through their chat log, noting allthe times she’d tried to initiate conversation, to reach out to him - but ithad been too painful for him to do anything other than leave her on read orblow off her offers to catch up.

[You]: Yeah lol, all thanks to Matteo

She read the reply pretty much instantly. Jonas nervouslychecked his other messages (firing one off to Matteo in both appreciation andapology), and flicked through a couple of apps, waiting for... literallyanything.

He tended to miss her most in the quiet moments. Where she’d beexactly here on the other side of the bed, stretched out beside him, or cuddledin close to or around him. Just existing together. Totally at ease.

When she didn’t say anything in response, Jonas feltinevitability creeping round the corner. He had the insatiable itch to run awayfrom this situation, to avoid it, shut down communication, quash it down andpretend it wasn’t an issue. If there was one flaw Jonas had that he was nowcompletely self-aware about, it was his tendency towards avoidance and wilfulignorance rather than facing issues head on and dealing with them outright. Howthat allowed things to spiral and blow out of proportion and control.

It led to destruction and pain for all involved.

So, basically, he knew he had to put on his big boy pants andactually deal with this. He couldn’t imagine walking into school and seeingHanna every day with this dark cloud hanging over them, as much as he’d beensulking and wallowing this past while.

Taking a deep breath, Jonas started to record a voice message.

[ “ Hey. I, uh... I understand if you’d rather not, but do you...want to meet? Like, later today maybe? What I did last night was shitty and Ijust want to apologise face to face. You deserve that much. If not - that’scool. Bye “ ]

 [ SAMSTAG ; 15:31 ]

 Every nerve in Jonas’s body buzzed with nervous energy, practicallyvibrating where he sat in the little booth, right in the corner of the coffeeshop as he waited for her.

The coffee shop was dimly lit, cosy (with seating that was actually comfy), not far from school,and served the best homemade coffee cake they’d ever had.

It was strange; the place was as comfortingly familiar asit always had been, but the overall vibe felt… off. He and Hanna used to come and waste so much time in here theywere practically on first name basis with some of the baristas, but he didn’trecognise anyone behind the counter that day. Big, ornate maps hung on theaged, wood-panelled walls in decoration, and had prompted countlessconversations between the two of them about all the places they wanted to seewhen they left school.

Hanna talked wistfully of having wanted to go on a girls’holiday with Leonie and the rest to somewhere warm; like Italy, or maybeGreece, before all the drama and had shit not hit the fan as badly as it did.

(Looking back, Jonas feels guilty about not taking the sadnessin her voice as seriously as he should have. More examples of his God-giventalent for wilful ignorance. Maybe it was easier to pretend and convincehimself that she was okay).

Jonas talked, somewhat jokingly (but also sort of not) aboutwanting to go with Matteo and the boys to Amsterdam.

But the best conversations were the ones about the tripsthey’d promise to take together. Most ideas were far-fetched, dumb and probablynot feasible (at least finance-wise) anyway, but it was fun and dreamy enoughjust to talk about and imagine going on adventures to all those cool places withher.

“OnceI’m selling out arenas all over Europe, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go”

This is Jonas’s first visit back to this place the break-up.

His leg jiggled incessantly up and down and he worried athis lip with his teeth.

Eventually, the door opened and he saw a familiar head ofred hair. And his heart promptly dropped into his stomach.

“Hi…” she greeted carefully, approaching a littlecautiously before sliding into the seat across from him. She looked tired.

A ghost of a smile twitched at her lips as she nodded downtowards the table, upon which sat what was recognisable to her as her usual drinkof choice, and between her cup and his, a plate with a slice of coffee cake onit. One fork.

“You didn’t have to”

He shrugged.

“It’s nothing. Call it penance, or a peace offering orsomething”

Hanna nodded and took a sip from her cup, then picked upthe fork.

“I’m not sharing this with you, by the way” she said, hervoice edged with a slight hint of playfulness.

“It’s all yours” he replied, throwing his hands up inmock-surrender.

“Knowing you, you probably already had a piece before I gothere”

“More like, ‘couldn’t stomach it’”

The comment appears to yank Hanna’s mind back to the matterat hand; why they’re actually here. And it wasn’t for coffee, cake, and mutualreminiscing. Her face fell back into a serious expression.

An extended beat of awkward silence settles over the table.Neither look directly at each other, and neither speak. As if they’re bothwaiting for the other to go first.

Jonas is the first to crack.

“Look – I’m reallysorry about what happened last night. The position I put you in; it was unfair.I was w-”

“Wasted. Yeah, I could tell”

Jonas felt guilt settle in his stomach, her accusing tonecutting somewhere deep inside him. He started fidgeting with his hands under thetable.

“I don’t mean it as an excuse, just… explanation”

“You were always a sad drunk” she commented.

He laughed humourlessly.

“That’s why I smoke weed so much more than I drink. Well –apart from recently, obviously”

It was true. Even in back when things were normal, he had anotoriously small barrier between ‘fun and tipsy’ and ‘drunk and maudlin’. Hedidn’t always like who he was when he drank, but somehow between now and thenthat fact had become easier to disregard.

He looked across at her sincerely, body suddenly still andat peace, and she slowly met his gaze.

“Honestly, I’m really sorry if I made you feeluncomfortable. I’d never intentionally do that to you, I was just… too drunk.And upset”

Hanna nodded in acceptance, but her face remained serious.

“It’s okay, I forgive you. Forget about it. But for real,man – what’s been up with you these past few weeks?”

“You know what’s beenup with me”

“I don’t really, seeing as every time I try and talk to you,you shut me out!”

“You can’t have it both ways, Hanna! You broke up with me,which I understand, but it hurt. Itstill hurts, clearly. And it hurts even more you trying to be my friend rightnow because it feels too close to what we had before, and it’s playing with my feelings”he explained, visibly frustrated.

She looked as if the words had reached out and slapped her.Fuck, he hated disappointing her but what more could he do now than just tellthe truth.

“It was easier before school started again. Before we hadto see each other every day, and Matteo started talking to your girls, andCarlos got involved with Kiki. I thought I had it together but all theproximity just made me realise how not over you I actually was” Jonascontinued, speaking more honestly than he had in a long time, even to himself.It was these sorts of thoughts he’d been running from – clouding in smoke, drowningin alcohol, and blocking out with the deafening club music.

Thoughts he didn’t entertain because they made him feelpathetic whilst Hanna was out there being amazing and having the time of herlife. That made him wonder why he couldn’t be like that too.

Hanna’s expression turned sympathetic. Almost painfully soft

“I get where you’re coming from. And I’m sorry for tryingto force something you weren’t ready for. It’s selfish, but I just… reallymissed you. No matter ‘where’ we are, I’d never want you to not be in my life,so maybe I hung on a bit too tight when I should’ve let you have space”

She took a breath, with which came a steely edge to her voice.Jonas tensed, knowing what it looked like when Hanna had something she needed to say.

“But that being said, in the nicest possible way, you needto pull your head out of your ass with all this dumb self-destructive shit you’redoing. Seriously. All the drinking, getting high in school and before exams,wallowing. If it’s all for dealing with pain, then you’re just going to end uphurting yourself and feeling worse than when you started”

Jonas feels like he shouldfeel patronised or annoyed at what she was saying, but honestly - he was sotired and sick of everything that he knew it was what he needed to hear. Theincident with Hanna last night had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“And if it hurts just to see you like this, I can’t imaginewhat it feels like inside your head. But you owe it to yourself more thananyone to sort things out”.

It was uncomfortable to hear, but it was necessary. He’d beenlooking practically everywhere but her eyes before as it took it in, but suddenlylooked up and met her gaze.

“Be the best version of yourself you can manage, and thebest possible things will come to you” she finished, causing Jonas to have asudden break of hilarity in what should’ve been an otherwise serious moment.

“Did you come up with that last line all by yourself?” he joked,smiling despite himself.

“Okay – it might’ve been something Amira said once, but itwas a good point!”. Her smile mirrored his.

The jokes and laughter felt easier between them, likefamiliar ground. It was a dynamic they both felt comfortable in together, andstill came easy to them. It made Jonas happy to see that was still there atall, though he had his suspicions after the secretly shared smiles between themat the Christmas party.

“I’m excited to see you be ‘you’ again – you deserve to behappy” she said, still smiling at him. It made his chest ache a little, but nowsomehow it felt like a more bearable pain.

“You too. I didn’t realise how much I missed seeing yougenuinely happy until after everything was over”

Hanna smiled solemnly and nodded, taking the final sip ofher coffee that ended up emptying the cup. She unlocked her phone screen infollowing silence to check the time, then looked out to the grey, dimming skiesof Berlin on a winter afternoon.

“I should probably think about heading home. Dad’s home thisweekend and I promised him I’d help him make dinner; ‘bonding time’ apparently”

Jonas chuckled lightly as he started gathering his stufftogether.

“Which we all know to be Hanna-code for ‘watch him peelpotatoes while I sit on insta’” he teased.

She quickly flipped him the bird before getting out infront of him and leading them outside.

He hung around for a second more as she unlocked her bike fromthe rack, more comfortable in a moment alone with Hanna than he had been in along time.

Once the bike was free, she turned to him.

“Remember to be nice to Matteo, by the way. He sulks aroundlike a lost puppy whenever you guys aren’t speaking”

Jonas rolled his eyes.

“Oh c’mon, that was one day!”

“And all that sorrow on his little face for that one daywas almost too much to bear. You need each other”

Assuming she was alluding to the tense situation with Matteo’shomelife, Jonas instantaneously decided that he’d call him when he got back.Thank him properly and check in.

They hesitated for a second after that, prompting a silenceJonas didn’t know quite what to do with. Hug her? Wave?

“Thanks for meeting with me. It helped a lot – and I’msorry, again” he settled on, with a curt nod.

“No worries. I’m glad we did it too. See you around”

Then she cycled away, and he stood there watching herleave, icy wind whipping her hair about her face as she rode.

Jonas leaned up against the lamp-post he was standingbeside and pulled out his little pouch of rolling tobacco and papers, making acigarette for himself and lighting it. The first inhale immediately calmed him.

Of course, not everything had magically been fixed and maderight. He still loved her more than he’d ever imagined loving anyone, he still missedher so much it ached – their laughs, their intimacy, her overall presence inthe world and inclusion in his orbit. It still hurt to feel a distance betweenthem.

But he felt so much… lighter. Like he’d unloaded some arduousburden on his soul by sitting down and having an honest conversation with herabout everything, coming clean about what he felt. And hearing how she sawthings too. It felt like a step forward to something better.

He loved her, and maybe he always would. Maybe he’dnever stop at least a tiny bit of himself from wanting her back – but for thefirst time in a long time it felt possible to accept the reality of the breakup. Perhaps even move on.

At the very least stop sulking around and torpedoing hisown life in self-pity and melodramatic heartache. Feel better about himself.

Inhale.

Exhale.

He set off home, her smile lingering in his mind.

[witchofthemidlands]

The Shannara Chronicles

This is it. This is the day I finally let loose the rant. I’ve finally been pushed over the edge.

First things first I love The Shannara Chronicles. My favourite book in the world is The Elfstones Of Shannara and this adaptation has been so good that it is my favourite show besides Arrow. The acting is fantastic, the plot was amazing and there are some brilliant characters that are so complex and well crafted. The whole first season is just so aesthetically pleasing.

However, then we were given a season two and honestly, I was so excited. I couldn’t wait to see how they were going to tell the story from that point on. Which is when things started to go to hell.

Honestly, I could accept the devastating loss of Amberle as despite loving her character so much and feeling a deep connection to her character. I knew that she was always destined to become The Ellcrys due to the fact that I know The Elfstones Of Shannara inside out and believe me Amberle becoming The Ellcrys in the TV show was a happy ending compared to how grim it was in the book. I swear to god Wil and Eretria actually had to watch as The Ellcrys basically disintergrated Amberle piece by piece so she could form the new Ellcrys. It’s still the most horrific part of my favourite book which is why I am glad that the writers of Shannara decided to just have her step into the tree and become one with it. I was also fine with this because Poppy Drayton still appeared in season 2 as The Ellcrys. That was well done.

Poppy Drayton’s moments in season 2 were honestly probably some of the only redeeming features of the season as it just went downhill from there.

Bandon. Bandon sweetheart what the hell did they do to you? His storyline just made no sense at all that’s what! So he’s apparently ‘evil’ now. Yeah right the only darkness that Bandon was exposed to was when he was forcibly trapped in his own mind by The Dagda Mor. The Dagda Mor. Now, Bandon deserved so much better. I just still struggle to understand his storyline I really do. If in season 2 it was made apparently clear and been canon that a part of The Dagda Mor had lived on in Bandon and was possessing him having still got an evil hold on his mind. That would have been a lot more believable that what season 2 did to Bandon. I’m ending the Bandon rant there. I don’t want to think about what happened to him at the end...

Ander. Sweet, sweet Ander. How. How could they do that to him? How. I just... What happened with Ander broke my heart. He deserved more than that ending. He really did. He deserved so much more than what the second season gave him I mean the first mistake was putting him in a relationship with Catania. What even was that. That has got to be one of the most forced tv relationships in history and I’ve seen some pretty forced relationships on tv (Legends Of Tomorrow) (Wil & Mareth) I mean how? How did that even work out? To be fair I always thought it was incredibly unnecessary to kill the badass Commander Diana Tilton in season one. She was the only woman I could remotely see with Ander. Not Catania I mean what the hell? I’m guessing the writers just realised that the two did not have love interests and thought oh the smartest thing to do would be to put them together. No, it was not a smart idea. It was weird. However, the major issue with Ander is that someone actually thought it was a bright idea to kill the poor Elf off I mean seriously, who the legitimate fuck thought it was a good idea to kill him? I mean I swear to god that was one of the most pointless deaths I have ever seen on television in my life. I’ve come to the realisation that someone was probably most likely smoking something whilst choosing who to kill of in Shannara Season 2 because there was absolutely no reason whatsoever to kill Ander. Ander didn’t deserve that! He was one of the more complex and interesting characters in the whole show because Ander was real. He was flawed and he didn’t hide that he was a very realistic character who deserved so much more after everything he had been through in season one. After he had lost his entire family and the woman he loved. Ander deserved better, he really did I’ll let you all know that he didn’t even die in the books! He was one of those rare characters that actually lived! So why on earth did they feel the need to kill him in the show? His death brought nothing to the plot expect Mareth becoming Queen at the end. no one wanted that. I certainly didn’t. I just wanted King Ander. Was Mareth’s character seriously just created to replace Ander and Allanon’s characters? The only somewhat peace of mind I get when it comes to Ander is at least that he is at peace with Aine and Eventine now. Yet even still. King Ander Of Arborlon Deserved Better.

Wil. In the first season I loved and adored Wil Ohmsford he was a naive sweetheart and even though when it comes to Amberle I ship her with Allanon. I thought how they portrayed Amberle and Wil’s relationship was great. However, Season 2 Wil was just... honestly I don’t want to say anything too harsh as I love Austin Butler and Wil and he did an excellent job but Wil’s character just changed so much in season 2 and not just physically. I actually really liked his short hair it reminded me of Austin’s days in The Carrie Diaries. In season 2 Wil lost that spark he’d had in season 1 which is understandable seeing as he’d lost Amberle and that broke his heart and I could understand his depression from that and at first I was glad to see that his obsession for Storlock had gotten him to the place of his dreams but I slowly started to get annoyed with Wil when he began to blame Allanon for what happened to Amberle. Now I’ll warn you all now Allanon is my favourite, any character judges him and I get annoyed with that character. You should have seen my victory dance when Prince Arion was killed not once but twice in season 1. But seeing Wil be so against Allanon reallly upset me as Allanon has done nothing but try to do his duty to The Four Lands and try to protect Wil. Their friendship in the first season was lovely and honestly reminded me of early days Slade & Oliver from Arrow but the way he blamed Allanon for what happened to Amberle? That was not a good move. Amberle understood exactly what she had to do. She knew what her duty was an accepted it knowing the price. Wil starts blaming Allanon for all this and for not telling him earlier? Well I’m sorry Wil but whilst he may look like one, Allanon is not a god he cannot decide the fate of The Ellcrys for it and on the subjected of not telling Wil. Wil should remember that Amberle knew what she had to do but she chose not to tell Wil until the last moment. She did. That was her choice, not Allanon’s. So personally I do not think it was right of Wil to put the majority of the blame on Wil. Honestly, one of the best parts of season 2 was when Amberle basically roasted Wil in person for Wil’s lingering thoughts and feelings about what went down in the season 1 finale.

Mareth. When I first heard about this new character I was excited as she was a magic user and I immediately began to theorise if she’d be Allanon’s kid and I was happily surprised to find out that I’d guessed correctly when she revealed herself to be Allanon’s daughter. That first episode of season 2 I loved Mareth straight away she was headstrong, sassy and an all out badass. She also made harsh remarks about Wil. What’s not to love! However, when she suddenly ‘fell in love with Wil’ I began to lose interest in her because I was annoyed that she was just being made out to be another love interest for Wil. If Wil had spent the whole season getting over Amberle and finding his way back to Eretria slowly. I could accept that. That would have been good story tellling but putting him with Mareth? I just didn’t see that. The only reason I was interested at first because I thought haha Wil’s going to have to face scary ass Dad!Allanon but I didn’t even get that so nope. No interest what so ever in Mareth & Wil. It just felt increadibly forced and like ‘Wil has to be with someone so let’s choose the only female character not in a relationship’. The main reason I went off Mareth though is when I realised what her character was being used for and that was most likely to be Allanon’s replacement. Like, good luck with that and all. Malese Jow is an amazing actress and I love her and everything I’ve seen her in has been fantastic but, she’s not Manu Bennett.

Last but not least. Allanon. Now, Allanon is my favourite character he always has been ever since I read the books for the first time. I was ten years old when I first read The Shannara Chronicles. At primary school I had the job of sorting out books in our school library and seeing as I was always invisible I could stay in that library for hours and no one would even know I was gone and I did. I spent hours on that library reading the books I found on the high shelf. The Shannara Chronicles trilogy. Now, I was ten so I didn’t understand most of it. Not like I do now but the characters that I became attached to were Allanon and Amberle. Amberle was like a badass Disney Princess and Allanon was like Merlin. Kind and wise. Allanon was always my favourite from the very beginning. I always just pictured Merlin everytime I read Allanon and I felt a wonderful connection to Allanon’s Merlin like character. However, when I finished the trilogy. Allanon died in the final book and it broke my heart. I remember at the age of ten sitting in a chair crying when Allanon died. I’d felt so attached to that character. He’d taken all the characters on this wonderful fantasy journey. It was Allanon’s death that made me decide as a writer that I would never kill my main character because I could never put anyone else through the heartbreak I had gone through when my favourite character died. However, when Allanon died I came to this acceptance and told myself that if somehow one day there was ever a movie or a film of The Shannara Chronicles I would be prepared and fine and accepting when the eventually happened and Allanon died and sure enough when it was announced that there would be a tv show seven years later at seventeen I had remembered what I���d said to myself at ten and that I’d be prepared and accepting of Allanon’s death when it eventually happened. Then they cast him and all preparation went out of the window. Seeing as thanks to Arrow, Spartacus and The Hobbit, Manu Bennett had become my favourite actor. Initially it was a great thing. Despite not being exactly who I imagined as Allanon seeing as I always saw an old Merlin whenever picturing him in my head. My favourite actor was going to play my favourite book character can’t get much better than that but then I remembered. Allanon dies and if any of you reading this are Arrow fans and remember season 2 of Arrow when Slade was killed by the Mirakuru when he first had it you’ll understand what I mean. That scene traumatised me and he wasn’t even actually dead. He came back. I have rewatched Arrow hundreds of times but never that episode. For those of you who haven’t seen Arrow basically, Manu Bennett is very, very good at doing heartbreaking traumatic death scenes which is why when I knew he was going to be Allanon. All preparation I had for his eventual death went out the window and when it happened... I broke down crying exactly like I did when I was ten reading Allanon’s death yet it was a million times worse because it was actually happening on the screen. I just... I can’t even begin to describe my emotions surrounding that but I will explain my one of anger and that is due to the fact that he should not have died then! Not in the second season! I mean come on! It was trilogy for a reason! If they had done three seasons of The Shannara Chronicles, kept the stories similar to the books and had Allanon dying for Wil and Eretria and their kids at the end you know what? Fair enough. Fair enough but not like that!!! Not in the second season. Who the heck thought it was a bright idea to kill (in my opinion) the best character in the whole damn show. The best actor left and then expected it to get renewed? To be fair I’m kinda believing that when the writers went though with killing Allanon they probably thought well that’s not going to go down well. Let’s kill Wil to just to make things even more traumatic and horrific. The entirety of season two was just a tragic mess!

What annoyed me more was that they didn’t even use Allanon to his full potential in season 2. I swear he was in bed for most of an episode and barely in the first few (I don’t even want to think about him being tortured) the best thing he did was that awesome jump through the closing gates. That was badass! Now the lack of Allanon could have been due to the fact that Manu suddenly decided to return to Arrow which was just beautiful or because they just wanted to focus on Mareth and Wil seeing as Mareth was evidently intended to be Allanon’s replacement. The one redeeming thing they did was make the Warlock Lord Allanon’s emo doppleganger. That was cool and well done. I mean Manu VS Manu... I have very few words to describe how I feel about that. I was deeply satisfied I know that for certain as the more Manu the better but Allanon did not need to die at that point in the show. There was just no point for his demise at all and it just succeeded in reminding me of my childhood trauma of losing my favourite book character.

Allanon Deserved Better.

Allanon Will ALWAYS deserve better.

To conclude. The denial is strong. The Shannara Chronicles Season 2 simply does not exist. The first and only season of The Shannara Chronicles is the most spectacular season I have ever seen on tv.

[skold]

this post is Marina’s List Of Favorite and/or Iconic Music Videos

this could also be subtitled as: if you truly want to understand me as a person, watch these videos because it’ll answer a lot of questions

it’s gonna be a long one so i’ll pop it under a cut

alright we goin by artist then chronological

AIDEN

knife blood nightmare - this is iconic for me simply bc i rly wanted to look like wil in this video so bad in 6th grade.

die romantic - WHAT A BOP. i used to do my black eyeshadow like wil in this video too lmao

ALL TIME LOW

poppin champagne - because blonde alex and also?? honestly?? what a wild video. this is truly late 00s oversaturated pop punk at its finest

i feel like dancin - i’m not the biggest fan of this record or even this song in general but this is like, quintessential all time low to me video-wise. like. it’s everything i want from an all time low video.

ARCHITECTS

follow the water - or as sam carter says, follow the wah-uh. first of all i love that this is in a church. second of all when will i get to go to an architects show this lit here in the states

heartburn - bc they all look pretty. ok. aesthetically on point as well.

AVENGED SEVENFOLD

beast and the harlot - i don’t always bop this song but when i do, the whole cul de sac does too. no but really this was so influential to middle school me i wanted nothing more than a boyfriend who looked like zacky or jimmy and whatever eyeshadows zacky was wearing in this clip

BLINK 182

i miss you - the video that inspired this post. THE AESTHETIQUE. 20′s inspired romantigoth film noir. i don’t yell about this music video enough.

BRING ME THE HORIZON

chelsea smile - it’s literally just a house part video but the song literally defines the year 2009 for me. emetophobia warning at 1:08

it never ends - this video got mad shit but i love it. pretty heavy gore throughout this video

alligator blood - CREEPY ASS AESTHETIC SHIT!!!! i live for it. 16 y/o me had it so bad for matt nicholls and him getting tied up and violated was like, god tier for me

visions - more creepy aesthetic shit. the videos on there is a hell were underrated

THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA

hey john what’s your name again? - i gotta throw this one in just bc this hurls my ass right back to the year 2008. that bible imagery. those haircuts. it was a better time for music

html rules d00d - THIS SONG STILL SLAPS LMAO DON’T READ ME

ELISSA FRANCESCHI

salt - i’m not crying you’re crying!!! how did anne and christian franceschi manage to spawn two flawless and talented siblings!!!!!!

EVERY TIME I DIE

ebolarama - it’s a performance video in a roller rink what more could you want

wanderlust - you’ve probably caught on to the fact that i love creepy aesthetic shit.

decayin with the boys - THIS VIDEO HAS ME HOWLING. there are too many good moments to list here but the personal highlight is the dude admiring the lesbians making out, then he turns and admires they gays making out at about the 1:30 mark. also the jenga dream sequence. there’s a dick in this video, just a heads up. and a whole bootyass. i love andy williams. mild emetophobia tw at 2:30

FOXY SHAZAM

a dangerous man - eric nally’s screeching was the soundtrack of 2008

i like it - the chorus of this song is literally just “that’s the biggest black ass i’ve ever seen and i like it” and i have nothing more to say

holy touch - it’s a performance video but it’s. different. i really don’t wanna ruin this by saying too much about it. that’s just kinda how foxy shazam were. this song is a fucking banger. yes, they did have a trumpet player in the official lineup.

FRNKIERO ANDTHE CELLABRATION

joyriding - another performance video that’s. different. lmao. aesthetically perfect

GOOD CHARLOTTE 

lifestyles of the rich and famous -  the proletariat banger we weren’t ready for in 2002, but we’re ready now.

girls and boys - old people being punk rock. that’s all.

predictable - i SPECIFICALLY remember watching this on the good charlotte website the day this dropped. THE EARLY 2000S BAD CG IS REAL. i was literally ten years old but i somehow Felt every word of that spoken bridge, man. WHEN THE LITTLE GIRL GIVES JOEL THE ROSE AND IT TURNS BLACK i deadass thought that was so fucking dope y’all

i just wanna live - ignoring the irony of joel whining about being famous, this video had THE MEMES. 

GREEN DAY

longview - iconic simply by virtue of being their first video.

when i come around - ask me about my favorite songs of All Time and i’ll probably mention this one. it’s still great nowadays. i love all the shots of berkeley.

brain stew/jaded - this is such a great piece of art lmao the fucking. sludgy feeling of brain stew going into the chaos of jaded is great on the record, but even better in video form going from being stoned in sepia to tripping acid in an oversaturated cluttered space

walking contradiction - comedy gold

hitchin a ride - creepy weirdness and an iconic bassline. also mike dirnt looks fine as hell in this video

minority - i’m running out of ways to explain that a video is iconic to me purely bc of how important the song was to me at a given time lmao.

american idiot - is there anything i can truly say about this video? it was perfect in 2004, it’s perfect in 2017. uncomfortably relevant. epilepsy warning for strobe lighting effects in the second half

holiday - technically this was released before blvd, but since it chronologically precedes blvd in the story, i’m putting it first. this is like 90% here for the bridge section y’all. fucking iconic. i wore a fedora on the first day of sixth grade bc tre cool wore one in this video. not my proudest fashion moment. emetophobia warning at 1:56 but them playing EVERY character in the bar scene is perfection

boulevard of broken dreams - ah yes, 2005′s most overplayed song. i could not escape this song. every time the intro started everyone would just look at me bc i was The Green Day Chick. this video is aesthetically perfect though. shout out to mike dirnt’s jawline in profile

HOZIER

work song - first of all, this song makes me cry. second of all, the video is dreamy as fuck. it gives me irl chills. i love the choreography so much. the whole vibe is very modern southern gothic. and it’s incredibly intimate feeling without being... sexual or vulgar, i guess. 

IN THIS MOMENT

adrenalize - first of all i’m gay. second of all i’m gay. this video is decidedly nsfw

whore - aesthetically pleasing. chris motionless being subby is the real highlight here

sick like me - again, it’s here for the aesthetic.

big bad wolf - also aesthetic but THIS MAKEUP LOOK. maria’s makeup look in this video is actually literally my aesthetic goal. epilepsy warning for strobe light effects

sex metal barbie - say it with me: aesthetic. i also love this one bc the lyrics are largely lifted from people talking shit about maria on the internet, shaming her for being a woman with sexuality and agency, so fuck yes i support it. mild body horror warning for this one

JOHN 5

making monsters - john’s videos are mostly performance based but this one is so cute lmao. where do i cop a j5 action figure

LADY GAGA

paparazzi - i’m only including the RLY vital gaga videos here and the full version of paparazzi is her best work imo......

bad romance - .......but bad romance is a close second.

telephone - i can’t not include this one though. the collab of the decade.

LINKIN PARK

one step closer - i think this was the first linkin park video i saw Back In The Day......... it was 2 heavy 4 baby me at the time lmao but nowadays it’s one of my fave lp songs. the video is super corny let’s be real but it was 2000

numb - this song is so fucking emo but i love it. the video is like peak emo too. i swear the main girl in this video was like my fashion icon at the time. layered tank tops, ripped loose jeans, oversized hoodies and jackets. i wanted her hair so bad lmao

what i’ve done - this video is really visually solid. i thought this was like the Deepest Shit in middle school lmao

MARILYN MANSON

sweet dreams (are made of this) - THE CINNAMON TOPOGRAPHY!!! god i have no complaints about this video except that twiggy is in it. visual fx?? dope. wardrobe?? dope. location?? dope. manson in the wedding dress?? dope. unsanitary warning for the later half of the video bc manson gets pooped on by birds lmao

tourniquet - one of my fave vocal performances by manson tbh. i prefer this one of the two videos floria did w/ manson. 

long hard road out of hell - femme manson and religious imagery need i elaborate

the dope show - the first manson video i ever saw. i was... so creeped out lmao. LOOKS ON LOOKS ON LOOKS. john 5 lookin like a snack in this one

i don’t like the drugs (but the drugs like me) - this is probably the most heavy-handed manson has ever been with the christ allegory lmao and yet......... i love it. also shout out to manson and rose’s dogs bug and uncle fester for guest starring. body horror tw here

coma white - basically a flawless music video i have nothing to say here that isn’t already said by the video itself

disposable teens - everybody looks great in this one except twiggy fuck twiggy. i actually love the mtv version of this video too, which is all performance, but i can’t seem to find it rn??

the fight song - one of my fave manson looks. those boooooots tho. the gloooovessssss. i’m gross let me live

tainted love - sorry to send y’all to vimeo for this one but i couldn’t find one on youtube that didn’t look like it was filmed with a potato or watermarked. y’all slept on the genius of this video tbh

mobscene - hello it is me gaogfucker666. 

this is the new shit - still me, gaogfucker666. this video feels misinterpreted too honestly

(s)AINT (director’s cut) - specifically the director’s cut bc more tim skold in a dress and boots smoking a cigarette. this video is seriously fucking nsfw. needles, drugs, sexual content, vomit etc watch with caution pls

personal jesus - i love this glam rock look so much. tim looks so good in this he never wore the look again bc he knew he looked so good we could never handle it a second time.

putting holes in happiness - I CAN’T FIND the extended version with tim’s full solo and i wanna scream. but. here’s the official version

say10 (short) - i really fucking wish he’d compounded off this for the official say10 video, beheaded orange man or not. just the verse. it’s so good. moody and creepy and AHHH.

we know where you fucking live - heed the warning at the beginning lmao. i honestly loved this video. i know some people thought it was edgy but i rly rly don’t see that. it’s offensive and obscene yeah but it doesn’t have that edgelord feel, as much as i love to call him an edgelord.

MOTIONLESS IN WHITE

reincarnate - old school horror vibes!!! as a Humble Fetishist of Boots and Gloves, this is a great video. also this is one of those songs where i Feel the lyrics for real

eternally yours - THE COLORS!!! THE FUCKIN IN A COFFIN!!!! i have nothing more to say

MOTLEY CRUE

looks that kill - please watch this corny ass fuckin 1983 ass hair metal ass music video. please. i’m tryna add more shout at the devil era nikki sixx vibes to my wardrobe tbh

wild side - i love a late 80s arena performance video ok also where do i cop nikki’s shirt

dr. feelgood - i will always credit this as one of the songs that made me want to play bass tbh

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

vampires will never hurt you - too emo to view with the naked eye.

i’m not okay (i promise) - the video that spawned a million high school AUs. god i love this one. even watching without the nostalgia goggles it’s great.

helena - perhaps my favorite music video of all time? if not then top 3. this video still remains my ideal aesthetic 12 years later. HOW I’M TRYNA BE. i just wanna look like an extra in this video, okay.

the ghost of you - time to cry!!!!! emetophobia warning at 0:47

welcome to the black parade - it’s hard for me to talk about these videos bc they’re so universally iconic that to explain why i love them so much would be mostly redundant.

famous last words - see above. this song means the world to me

desolation row - if i had to pick a video other than helena to look like an extra in i’d pick this one. has gerard ever looked this good, before or after this video?? peak.

NINE INCH NAILS

down in it - these are getting linked to vimeo since the official nin account has them all uploaded there in better quality. anyway i love so many of the shots in this video and i love the colors and i love bab trent

head like a hole - SO dated y’all but bab trent leveled up and became baby dread trent.

happiness in slavery - this is seriously graphic. but it’s great. also where’s the extended version that shows trent getting eaten by the weird carnivorous robot

gave up - bABY BRIAN!! infants, y’all. INFANTS.

march of the pigs - it’s a one-take performance video but it’s...... so much more than that. this video hurts me in my hand/glove kink.

closer - this is in the top 3 with helena honestly. it is... a piece of art film before all else. a Must Watch. 

burn - another case of a video being important to me because of the song it’s for tbh.

the perfect drug - marc romanek is a GOD. also a piece of art film honestly. just y’all wait till i make my dnd character based on trent in this video lmao

starfuckers, inc - hm, another nin video that trent invited manson to be in. interesting. all memes aside it’s a great video even as much as i hate the use of the “fat = ugly” trope. epilepsy warning for flashing effects in the last part of the video

deep - why. are. y’all. SLEEPING ON THIS!!!!

only - this may have been the first nin video i willingly saw and recognized as nin. this video still holds up, especially with it being 95% cgi and still looking as good as it does.

ROB ZOMBIE

living dead girl - the theme song of my life??? iconic couple costume idea????

meet the creeper - i have to include this video because it’s BAD. it’s terrible and i fucking love it

american witch (live version) - WHEN ROB PICKS UP JOHN AND STARTS SPINNING HIM AROUND!!!! this is here specifically for all the long hair john content

dead city radio and the new gods of supertown - the aesthetic. everybody looks great. matt is in a gorilla suit

well everybody’s fucking in a ufo - highly nsfw. where do i begin with this fucking hot mess...... sheri’s huge fake boobs. john and matt and ginger as astronauts. john jerkin off. the aliens with dicks. the fact that the whole story is about getting gang banged by aliens???? nothing will ever reach this level

SKOLD

self titled promotional clip - epilepsy warning for a lot of flashing and smash cuts. sort of a few partial music videos in one, but there are only two official skold videos, so i gotta include both of them. the quality is garbage. it’s so incredibly 1996. yet i love it. the last song, anything, is pretty nsfw as in there’s actual femdom porn clips but this is why i love it.

better the devil - if there were more skold videos i’d put them here. but as i said there are only two. tim out there lookin like not just a snack but a full course meal in 4k quality. goddamn. the only man i can ever truly call d*ddy. tiffany and eli lookin like delicious side dishes as well.

TAKING BACK SUNDAY

you’re so last summer - flava flave is in it

this photograph is proof - this song makes me so fucking nostalgic............. it transports me right back to eighth grade lmao. tbs were one of my fave bands in middle school.

makedamnsure - the most emo song of all time?? side note regarding tbs: real talk, being fat in middle school, seeing another fat person in a band was so fucking reassuring and great. i love eddie. 

liar (it takes one to know one) - these visual effects are SO cool, even now.

YOU ME AT SIX

jealous minds think alike - ART... no but actually look at these literal fetuses. i fucking love this song. it’s probably my fave track on take off your colours.

kiss and tell - you right it’s another house party video BUT. baby josh with an undercut. he must be 18 or barely 19 here??

liquid confidence - WHEN YOU GOT NOTHING TO LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSE

stay with me - jkfljkghdfskljgs okay serious time: this song got me through a seriously rough part of my life and i have the title tattooed on me partially because of the video. 

loverboy - i have never seen a fandom in such utter chaos as the ymas fandom was on the day this video dropped. holy fucking shit. the THIRST was REAL. 

bite my tongue - peak ymas captured in one music video. that’s truly the most important part. that peak sns era ymas was preserved forever in this video.

lived a lie - is it bad if i still kinda want a “we are believers” tattoo lmao. i really....... love this song a lot. is it obvious by now that ymas love a big chorus lmao

give - this song gives me The Feels. it deserved better than a performance video in an empty arena but it’s all we got, so here it is.

[ggabiie]

Dont fall in love with me

Although I cant help but looking for love, ill scape from it

one day, as you keep staring at me with your brilliant eyes

I may think it is finally you.

Ive been looking for the love of my lifeamong millions of unknown glances

and if youre reading this, that means that I havent found it yet

I dont believe in love as something to try with everyone

I think it is rather found in sparkling eyes that are in need of your natural gift

If theres something I have learnt so far is that true love still lives once butterflies disappear.

in fact some research ensures that “pre-love” period lats up to two years

True love is the period after that, if not, you will be part of the wish list u had and suddenly went out of fashion.

But I think Im not ready to bet for those butterflies. thats why I dont want commitments

So dont fall in love with me, seriously, dont do it

Even if I really want you to feel like that, dont do it. 

Even if you could eventually make me feel somehow normal in this fucking world

sooner or later I will do it again. I wont be able to give you the time you deserve

someday youll want to go out for a drink and ill be too busy for that

Suddenly you wil dream on make a daily routine next to me and ill tell you

that I cant, that Im sorry “maybe next week” sooner or later you wont take that anymore.

And I will have to say good-bye but the truth is, Im dying

for some to understand these words and gives me what I need 

Im sorry, this is the way Ive learnt to love, thats why I protect myself

being busy all the time, Becasue if you dont invest time in something

that could break you, it will never break you

Maybe thast what happened to the one who taught me to love like this

Im a nightlife girl, not the kind of girl that goes out to get drunk every night 

I get amazed just looking at the moon and get inspired at dawn, instead.

You wont be in the mood to fuck at 3 am and that why Im sorry

dont fall in love with me, dont make the same mistake I did. For real, its a Shit!

I dont want you to fall in love with me but Id love to spend my time with you

I dont want us to belong each other.

There will be no “us” or any type of link that could make us suffer at any time

Skip that part when you show me how good you are or that im just one of your wish list.

I dont wanna know it. Can you guess what I want instead?

I want MAGIC

I want you to drive me crazy 

I want you to take me a hundred miles away from furrowing lost roads

while “rap” is on the radio, because thats what we like

And as good dealer that you are. I want you to be my drug

I want you to hide my soul in my stomach and take it out for a walk in every breath

I want you to feel special and I wanna be so for you too

Because Im not the kind of girl that goes from bed to bed and from mouth to mouth

But no! we are not less important, our chemistry isnt less important 

just beacuse is not the love of our lives

I promise I will listen to you, hold you, watch you sleep softly and fuck you.

All I ask your for is you not to hurt me, dont bite my heart and dont fall in love with me or try to make me fall for you.

But above all... Above all things...

I wanna be the crazy girl, the one youll remember

when your granchildrens will ask you.. Granpa, Do you believe in magic?

and yeah, maybe I do need those sundays in company

but all I really want is you to be in love with life 

I want a crazy man, someone able to turn me on at any time

inspire me, get me crazier that I am or less rational

But darling, dont insist on make me fall in love with you

because this young girl doesnt believe in love anymore

But if you want to, you can go ahead try to show me 

you are not the asshole I think you are, and maybe one day i will lose..

And luckily you will end up winning.

[burmecianblackmage]

Today marks this blogs third anniversary

Time sure flies, huh? Who’d have thought that what started out as a small little idea way back when would eventually grow to become such a grand and complex character, with a long and detailed backstory and even a very important NPC spawning off said story?

I sure didn’t.

To be quite honest, I was back then not sure whether or not Sceada would ever catch a hold in the rp community, and there have been periods where it felt like his foothold was vanishing, but he endured, and now I am still here after 3 years. And you know what?

None of that would have been possible without you guys.

A roleplay character and his story are, if you ask me, to an extent also only as good as their partners make them. The growth of a character comes through interaction, and without partners there simply is none. And with them, you sometimes don’t know just which way they might push your muse to develop - ain’t that the most exciting part about this our hobby?

So, in order to honor these three exciting, heartwarming (and heartbreaking at times), dramatic and simply awesome years, I wish to honor the people that made it possible!

~~~~ My dear friends ~~~~

@burmecias-protector

It seems fitting to start with you, cause after all, you were the very first person to ever give this blog a chance and play with me. And quite frankly? You never stopped being my go to person when it is about Burmecia and it’s inhabitants. You helped me shape my backstory and headcanons, allowed me to make your Freya a part of them somewhat by acknowledging the characters it introduced and their connection to her, and what I appreciate by far the most, even three years in you still play with me every now and then.

Thank you so much for everything. I know we may not converse much outside of rp but I still feel I got to know you a bit over the years and so I also want to say that I think you’re a great person and someone people greatly enjoy having for a friend. Stay awesome, and may your endeavors be crowned with success!

(Also, I’m still “sorry” for throwing Skadi at you like that, but I love what a good sport you’ve been about it and wanna thank you for dealing with her! I promise, she’ll eventually be less obnoxious)

@containyourmainposure

Oh Gwenny, if I were to list all the nice things I can say about you, I’d probably need a separate post just for you. You’re such a warm and kind person and you’re never afraid to voice your opinion, and I really admire that. And the same goes for the big changes you’ve made in your life, I am both so very happy for you and proud of you for making that leap, and at the same time a bit envious. Maybe one day I’ll have that strength too.

And your Leonora, my, she’s just such a wonderful sweetheart, I cannot fathom how one could not adore her. Reading you write her is not only a pleasure, no, it has also fundamentaly changed my perception of her when I replay TAY - I gotta admit, I at first considered her to be a bit boring in game, but I see now that I was mistaken, and not just because of how much depth you gave her. By now Leonora has actually become part of my extended list of favorites, and I feel you are to credit for that.

I always adore our plays, and am a bit sad to see them having become so scarce lately. Not only Sceada misses you and Leonora, I do too. I understand why the situation currently is as it is and let me assure you, it’s okay, but allow me at the same time to say that yes, I do miss these plays. And we don’t even need to go into detail about how much Sceada misses the sunshine to his rain... My poor lovesick fool. So I really hope that the day will come when we can play more often again. Until then, please stay as wonderful as you are and may you continue to succeed in all you do! You deserve all the happiness.

@artemisxbow

Maria oh Maria - no, I’m not gonna break into signing the opera from FF VI right now, behave Patrick - it feels like I’ve known you forever, though we only met through Pledged Prelude back in the day, and only rarely really spoke outside of plays. Curious how that sometimes goes, huh? But be that as it may, yours is a presence on my dashboard that I wouldn’t want to miss. I really adore your style of writing, the way you picture a scene and how you describe Maria and her inner struggles. I know out plays tend to get quite slow, curtesy of both our lives, but by the gods they are always, always worth waiting for. And seeing a reply after a long time has more than once felt like an exciting little present waiting to be unwrapped and discovered. Really, I love writing with you.

And Sceada is not in the least against it either. After all, if you would ask him who his closest friend is, who would he name other than Maria? He cares deeply for her and wants her to be happy, and he will never forget the kindness she showed him back in the day. I feel these two have a nice chemistry together, one of understanding and respect, and I shall with joy await just how that will develop over time. I for one hope that they both can learn to open up more to each other, both could really use it. But in the end, that’s not really up to us, right?

That said! I’ll also never forget the wonderful dynamic we had going when you played Victoria for a while, and she befriended Sceada, planning to use him for her own goals and played him. How he struggled with the path he saw her lay open for him to walk and it’s consequences, and last but definitely not least, their epic confrontation. Ah, good times...

Anyhow... what I want to say is Thank you Maria, for being such a consistent presence in my little Sceada’s life and for the many plays and deep conversations our muses shared. I shall gladly look forward for more to come, and I hope you do too. And who knows just where they’ll take us, hmm? ;)

@burmecianknight

Ah, Calisto... It’s been well over a year since you last graced our dashboards and we got to enjoy your presence, but don’t think that I’ve forgotten about you! Back in the days when I got to play with you it was always fun seeing your writing and the few threads we had always felt a bit special. I dunno why... but for Sceada you somehow felt like a sister, or probably what he would imagine it to feel like.

Kinda curious that it never occured to me back then that maybe they could be a ship, what with her being the only female Burmecian in his age group that he knew... - who knows if that would have worked though xD

Either way... I know you might not read this but if you do? I’d like you to know that I’m thankful for the time we played together and the plays we shared. And should you ever feel like returning? I will gladly play with you again right away.

@sharlayanmistress

My dear lady Minfilia, how long has it been? Too long. So I know you may not get to see this for a long time - if at all. But sadly that too is the nature of roleplaying, over time we are bound to say goodbye to many a player we liked.

You’ve been one such player for me. My Eorzea verse was pretty much centered on you, even thoug that was not the original intention. But Sceada felt so safe in her company and understood too, that actually she is to this day the only person who has seen his mark. Unbelieveable, right? But for him she was one he could trust - and apparently, he for her too. And I really liked that.

It is a pity that the canon story ended up ruining your muse for her, alongside your real life. I understand how you feel though, yet still... I’d have loved to play with you more. You had a very nice writing style. Maybe one day again. Maybe on another blog. Only time will tell.

@ladyofgentlebreezes

First things first: I always have and I still do love the concept of your Garuda. What with her memory loss and her Garuda-Egi trying to whisper into her ears - I found that briliant. But I also liked her personality. The sometimes shy, sometimes insecure she displayed, along with her kindness... She was a sweetheart with a troubled mind, and by the gods can Sceada relate to that. He truly wanted to help her and understand her.

And who knows, maybe even more could have come of it, we had some intriguing prompts that never failed to make me smile. I suppose we’ll never know.

But be that as it may... I wanna still say thank you Garuda, for you were a partner I adored and I always enjoyed your writing of your muse. I’d have loved to play more with you, but alas it wasn’t meant to be. Still I’ll always be grateful for the time we shared as rp partners.

@thepricewasright

Locke Cole! Boy, what a pity it is that we have not yet been able to play more. I always liked your muse in the games, and you play him so faithfully! And no, I don’t mean the fact that just like Locke you sometimes come and go ;) But really, jokes aside, I really like the way you play him, and even before we started playing I’ve enjoyed reading you on my dash.

And to think of the possibilities our muses have, the potential scenarios that might yet unfold! I’m so very eager to explore them and truly hope we get to do so one day. I mean, it’s not often that Sceada gets to have a “rival” so to speak, though we both know that their rivalry would be unneeded as their beloved loves them both. And the notion of them adventuring together! Whether it is pursuing some legends or rumors, or even looking for that cure, I feel these two can become quite close if things go well.

So, uhm, yeah. What I wanna say is, I’m very excited to play with you and I hope we get to do so again soon. I like the way you write and your presence on my dash, and I’d like to thank you for playing with me. May we have more fun plays to come! Or angst, muahahaha....

@ladyoflindblum

Did you know that ever since I first came across your blog I’ve been wanting to play with you? I’ve always adored Eiko, and your adult take on her is delightfully refreshing. I also fondly remember that time we both individually had the same headcannon, and how the idea still lives on on your blog. The concept of it will probably never stop interesting me.

And well, we did play. But for the longest time, it was only small interactions in groups, some even in distinct verses and so they never really met in their main verses. Until we started a thread over a year ago - and then life got in the way.

When you recently came to me and said you’d love to play together again, I was delighted - and surprised. Reviving the old thread? I’ve never had that happen before, but you know what? I love the idea. Especially since the setting’s so nice for these two to meet a first time proper! And you can bet I’m excited to see where this will go. So thank you, thank you a lot for returning and still being interested in this mine little creation!

@avaliantqueen

I’ve always liked Garnet (though for me she’ll always be Lilli, her german pseudonym) and so when I found your beautifully written take on her I could not help but want to play with you. But unfortunately, we somehow never got over the starter and maybe a reply or two before they died down. I gotta admit I still don’t know why... - but it is what it is. Maybe I’ll try again in the days to come, we’ll see ;)

What I can say here though is that the Mun here, Asuka, yeah? She’s an absolute sweetheart. And very talented. Seriously, have you seen her videos or her cosplay of Garnet? I am time and time again in awe when I see her works. Also, she is very kind and likes to help people, and is not afraid to stand up for those she holds dear, which I find quite admireable. So yeah... you keep on being your impressive self, you hear me? 

@beyondtheflyingbird

Mary! Have I ever told you what an absolute sweetheart you are? Well, yes, I know I have, but don’t think that’ll stop me from doing so again! Because really, you are such a nice and caring person! I still dearly remember talking to you when things were really rough for me and you even went so far as to offer me an alternative, a path out. I couldn’t take it back then, but I will never forget just how much it meant to me that someone cared so much. I know we haven’t spoken all that much in the past year because life has a tendency to get in the way, but I still feel that if things went extremely downhill and I needed someone to talk, you’d have my back - and I want you to know that I’d have yours, anytime.

Also, it’s so refreshing sometimes to just be able to talk with someone in your native language xD

That said, now that you recently returned I’m really hoping that we get to play together again! I love your Garnet and I especially loved her caring nature in certain threads and prompts. And you’re so full of great ideas! Like when I sent in that Kiss in the Rain thing and instead of just going small with a smooch or such in a rainy city, you had it have an emotional build up, a deep sadness over what was lost and a kiss meant to comfort an aching soul standing in the ruins of what once was his homeland - just how amazing is that? Seriously Mary, I’d love to play with you again, it’d be both an honor and a pleasure.

@sunny-explosions

Selphie is at times bubbly, usually quite cheerful, sometimes a bit too friendly - and eerily fond of blowing things up - and you convey that perfectly my dear! I always enjoy seeing you on the dash, and often can’t help sending in memes or prompts - even if my own muse is at times upset with me because of the results. And we’re still trying to whip up an actual, bigger thread so here’s hoping!

@feralstriike

Ah, the lovely Fran! We have had the pleasure of some small threads a few times so far, and I gotta admit I always liked the dynamic we had between our two not-quite-standard-human Muses. Fran is a mystery and apparently enjoys that fact, and if Sceada is one thing then it is fascinated by mysteries. I was always curious how they’d get along, and as we saw from some of the older threads they could well have become friends - and hey, who knows? Seeing how you came back a while ago, maybe that is still a possibility.

Either way though, I quite like your writing and I enjy seeing you pop up on my dash every now and then.

@briidunviing

Brii, I know we haven’t played much yet. We have that one thread, and a short thing from a prompt, and that’s it. And I also know that you more often than not feel your replies don’t live up to mine. Now... let me tell you something..

That is not the case.

Brii, you write your character well and convey what she feels or goes through clearly enough. You have an unique writng style, which sets you apart from others and on top of that your muse is quite the interesting concept. So believe me when I say that it is all fine, okay? Don’t worry about your roleplaying. Aren’t you, like most of us I believe, rp-ing because you enjoy it? Because it helps distract you, focus on something else for a while?

Also I’m so sorry about everything you have to deal with irl. I wish I could do more than just talk to help you but sadly, I cannot. So at the very least... allow me to offer you an open ear whenever your need one. To qoute one of my all-time favorite scenes in FF history: You Are Not Alone. Okay?

@dancing-dagger

I’ve been following you for a while already, but I don’t think we ever had much interaction before, which is a pity. I’ve quite liked both your Leila and Milleuda for some time now, but found myself struggling to find a way to initiate interaction. And then Sceada decides he wants to send that prompt in. Boy oh boy, did that turn out in an interesting way... I’m honestly quite curious whether we’ll continue with it, and just where it’ll go - depending on the result Leila will truly steal something from him xD

But either way, I’d love to get to know her and/or Milleuda better and interact with them, so I’ll try to come up with something for at least one of them! 

@the-shadow-of-a-wielder

You know, it’s kinda weird. I’ve known you and your muse for but a short time now, our first actual interaction having been the advent calendar I had made. And look at it now: We’ve been talking quite a lot, Amina has become a close ally to Sceada in the group verse and we’ve even discussed possible ways for it to extend beyond the group should the need arise. Granted, the fine tuning between our muses needs improvement yet, but I feel it works fine between us Muns, don’t you agree? And there is absolutely no denying that Amina is an interesting OC, so yeah... I’m really looking forward to continuing our plays^^

@losteidolon

Now we’ve barely known each other for a few days now, but when I stumbled over your OC I almost cried from joy. A FF9 OC! Well written! Interesting concept! And active! - Honestly, from my experience those are rare to come by! I am very excited to see just how our two OCs will get along - even though that one prompt already was a bad start in Sceada’s eyes. This is not how he likes to meet people xD

@colourfulvirtuoso and @elderinwhite

You two I’ve only recently started interacting with, but I have so far really enjoyed it! You have lovely writing styles and from what I can tell so far some nice ideas, so I am truly looking forward to playing more with you as time goes on!

I’d also like to give a big thanks to the groups I was part of in these 3 years, for I met many a wonderful person in them and enjoyed many an interesting and fun play thanks to them. So thank you Pledged Prelude @pledgedprelude, Crystathereum @crystathereum, Fate Cipher, Crowned Reveries and Crested Fantasia @crestedfantasia, it’s been a pleasure being part of you!

And lastly, I also want to thank my lovely girlfriend @pandoragu. We may have never actually played together on this account, with her Melly usually dealingwith my Kamiizumi, but she has helped shape this muse immensely in the two and a half years we’ve been a couple. Several ideas and headcanons have been bounced off her and adapted, leading to my Sceada’s backstory becoming more and more fleshed out, turning him into who he is today. Even if he himself does not yet know wholly who he is... So yeah, thank you my dear, for all your help with my little fool. I love you.

And that’s it! Thank you everyone for 3 great years! May many more plots and shenanigans  and threads come to life through our words! May we always find someone willing to listen to us and support us.

Thank You.

Patrick~