#Comms are closed for general public..! For now...

[oonwah13]

Commission 1/2 for my bestie @ender1821

[plusvanity]

Hii, a few posts back you said you have your opinions on Faust and Euronymous separately could you make a post on that?

Love your analysis :)

Øystein has an interesting personality. I talked a bit about him in comparison with Varg at some point because they do share a few characteristic features.

I would describe Øystein as ambitious, talented, creative, hard-working and a leader. I don't think he worked very hard (as Varg, for example) to gain admiration from the people around him, I think that his ingenious ideas and musical innovation attracted people naturally.

He knew how to make himself be respected by his peers because he was open-minded, understanding, and had an optimistic attitude (as many described him) towards life.

It's pretty clear that he wasn't as mentally unstable as others in the scene, but it doesn't mean that he had no issues. I believe he had a bit of an inclination to be people-pleasing while also trying to remain firm on his views and beliefs.

He was prideful, confident (especially about his music), enjoyed the position of power and influence in which he was but didn't abuse that at all. He was arrogant at times and full of himself, but there is a fine line between the character that he was playing (Euronymous) and the real person he was inside.

I see him as having a few narcissistic features but not enough to consider him in the NPD spectrum. He was also quite understanding (especially when Emperor got signed by Candlelight Records) and you don't really see full-blown narcissists being reasonable and understanding.

Unfortunately, because of his strong personality and leadership attributes (dominant, assertive), he managed to attract a very toxic person in his life that lately became his murderer.

The fact that he had a healthy relationship with his parents tells a lot about him. He seemed to have much more authentic confidence than Varg ever had as well as discipline. He seemed much more thoughtful about consequences than Varg, and this became apparent when he took a step back from a situation that would have brought him extra fame, but also MASSIVE implications (negative attention). He also closed his shop at the suggestion of his parents.

These attributes generally come from a 'good enough' household.

Later on, it's quite evident that he struggled with depression because of Pelle's death. There are some indications of 'self harm' and excessive drinking behaviour. But it is also possible that he had episodic depression in the time that Pelle was alive because we all know that depression and anxiety are socially transmitted mental illnesses (or at least we should know).

I personally find his implication in church-burnings a theatrical movement rather than a truly antisocial behaviour. So this makes me think that naturally, he had fewer violent impulses than he wanted to display to the public. In addition to this, he even tried to dissociate himself from the image that Varg's juvenile criminality was put on him.

He had an inflated sense of ego that I tent to see it as theatrical rather than real, but this is how they were 'playing the game' back then.

His coping mechanisms after Pelle's death were dubious, but it is what it is. There is no point in getting into details. People cope differently with trauma. Øystein tried to cope as best as he could.

This is a very rough summary of how I see him.

Now, when it comes to Faust, I know he was seeing Øystein as a mentor. He had a lot of respect for him, this is undeniable.

Now, not all people are able to commit murder, even if in self-defense. What Faust did was reacting on impulse. I don't know what was in his head when he did it, but he described in an interview as 'seeing himself out of his body as he was doing it' and this is due to adrenaline rush combined with the brain's inability to cope with what is happening on the spot. He dissociated at the scene and probably had a hard time believing what he did after that.

In the context in which Faust committed his crime, this is antisocial behaviour. Another detail that stuck out was how he described the incident. 'Stomping on his head' is nothing but cruelty and sadism, in my opinion.

I am not saying that he is in a 'certain way', but these are my thoughts on him for what he's done.

Remember that anyone who killed a person or an animal can do it again. This is a psychological fact. Maybe they will never repeat their mistake, maybe they will seek redemption, but once you've done something like this, you are very, very likely to repeat the behaviour.

I hope you find this useful, anon

[illuminatedquill]

Short Story Summary: Hera Syndulla arrives at Sabine and Ezra's comm tower to drop off the first print editions of their personal trading cards.

*For @alphaofdarkness and @jedi-nurse who inspired this with their conversations on the Discord server. Hope you like it.

Lothal, Early Morning - Sabine and Ezra's Comm Tower

The characteristic soft chime that played whenever someone was waiting below in the comm tower's courtyard alerted Ezra to their guest's presence. Setting down the data-pad he had been browsing through for the Holo-Net's daily news, he stood and walked over to a nearby monitor at the security station that had been recently installed by Sabine as a precaution.

After all, the last time a guest had arrived she had ended up with a lightsaber stabbed through her abdomen. It was not an experience she wished to repeat again.

Shooing a curious Murley off the console, he pushed a button. The monitor's screen lit up, showing the crisp image of the tower's courtyard - and the familiar face of their guest.

Smiling, he spoke into the intercom. "Hello, Hera."

The green-skinned Twi'lek smiled back and waved at the camera. Seeing her face, practically the same since he had first seen it over a decade ago, always filled Ezra with a sense of warmth and comfort. Hera had been a steady friend, mentor, and surrogate mother to him during the hectic early days of the Rebellion. She was the eternal bedrock of the Spectres, the foundation from which all of them had built their new lives upon.

He noted the casual outfit she wore today: not her usual flight uniform, but a fashionable beige sport jacket, dark brown tunic, slim, high waisted pants, complete with comfortable walking boots. Grasped in her hands was a slim, non-descript wooden case.

"Retirement looks good on you, General," he remarked.

Hera snorted. "Semi-retirement. I was practically forced into it by Leia. She was very insistent."

"It's well-deserved," he replied. "And long overdue."

"And boring," she retorted. "I need structure, Ezra. A mission."

He laughed. "So, you're hiring yourself out as a delivery service now?"

She scowled at him. "Gotta do something. I'm still helping people, at least."

"And not getting shot at or participating in dog fights with pirates is presumably a benefit, as well," Ezra added.

"Eh," she said, waving a careless hand. "I kind of miss it, sometimes."

Hera peered up at the camera. "Are you going to let me up or we just going to chit-chat like this all day? I've got other places to be, you know."

Ezra grinned and let her in.

The slim wooden case lay open on the worktable, revealing the contents within. Ezra peered over it, taking in the sight of what Hera had brought.

She sipped at a caf, a special blend of Hera's favorite flavors. "Thanks for this," she said gratefully.

"Of course," Ezra responded. He picked up one of the items within the wooden case and observed it more closely: a trading card, thin and metallic. With a sense of bemusement, he inspected the image of himself on it, conforming to what he had perceived at the time of the photoshoot to be a "heroic" pose: his lightsaber activated and held in a basic guard position.

There was at least a dozen more of these contained within the wooden case.

"Where's Sabine?" Hera asked.

Ezra nodded towards the section of the comm tower's interior, where the master bedroom was located. "Sleeping in. She just returned from Mandalore late last night."

"Busy days for her, huh," Hera said.

Ezra shrugged, still eyeing the trading card in his hand. "Bo needs her to keep the clans in line."

He shook his head. "I can't believe these are actually real. A Jedi on a trading card."

"Hey, don't knock it," Hera said. "Skywalker's got a bunch, too."

Ezra's eyes widened. "Luke? How did the New Republic convince him to do this?"

"Same way we did with you. He had similar concerns: that Jedi shouldn't be involved in this sort of publicity, even with benevolent intentions," Hera explained. She paused to take a brief sip of her caf before continuing. "To counter this, the government pitched that it was for historical purposes. It was a good way to get the young ones across the galaxy up to date with knowledge of galactic affairs and the people who shaped them."

He blinked, remembering the exact same explanation being given to him. "It's a little scary that they found a way to trick Jedi into this."

Hera shrugged. "You're both history nerds. And there's no harm in giving the kids heroes to root for. I think you both appreciate that fact."

Ezra studied the cards some more, smiling a little. Living as an orphan on the streets of Imperial controlled Lothal, he would have given anything to have a fun side hobby like that.

"Leia, her husband Han, Skywalker, and Lando all have their own trading cards, too," Hera commented. She reached down and plucked a card from within the wooden case. "Everyone in the Ghost crew, also. Me, Zeb, Kanan - even Chopper."

Ezra snorted. He glanced over at the trading card Hera was holding, this one featuring Sabine. She was wearing one of her go-to civilian outfits, her head encased in a speeder-bike helmet. The characteristic Sabine Wren smirk was also in vivid display, along with one other feature that immediately caught his attention.

He frowned. "That can't be recent," he said. "When did she grow out her hair?"

Hera turned to him, surprised. "Right," she said. "You weren't here to see that."

She offered him the trading card. Ezra took it, gazing softly down at the image of his wife.

"She's beautiful," was all he could say. He had only ever seen Sabine with short hair, a necessity with her Mandalorian helmet. Even when she had come to rescue him on Peridea, Sabine had worn a short pixie-style cut. Ezra had assumed that had been her style the entire time he had been gone.

The deep purple he remembered from Peridea was present, but it blended beautifully with the longer locks of burning red. It reminded him of the gouts of flame bursting forth he had seen in paintings of dying stars; the effect of her dye colors presented the look of pure starfire flowing down her shoulders.

"Yeah, Sabine had these done a while ago," Hera confirmed.

"But they're just being released now?" Ezra asked. "Why?"

She sighed. "It took quite a bit of convincing for Sabine to acquiesce to this decision. You know how she is with public facing stuff like this."

Ezra winced, imagining the conversations between Sabine and the New Republic officials to be short and one-sided. Despite her brash exterior, he knew his wife to be an immensely private person, preferring to keep out of the public eye.

"I finally got her to agree, but Sabine would only do it on two conditions: first, that she would have a say in how the cards were designed. If her face was going to be on them, she wanted to ensure that the cards were artistically up to her standards."

Ezra smiled slightly. Sounds like her, he thought. Art was Sabine's first love, before she met him. She would want to make sure that the artwork showcased on the trading cards was befitting of the heroes they featured.

"What was the second condition?" he asked.

Hera cocked her head at him, her eyes suddenly wistful. "That her trading cards would only be sold as a set, not to be separated for any reason."

Ezra's brow furrowed. "She wanted her card to be permanently paired up with another?"

"Yes, Ezra," said Hera quietly. "Yours."

His eyes widened at the revelation.

"That's why hers are only being released now," continued Hera. "She was waiting for you."

Ezra was silent, looking over the cards: his and Sabine's, paired together.

Not to be separated for any reason.

He coughed, trying to clear the sudden lump in his throat. Hera clapped him on the shoulder.

"I think they look better together," she observed wryly. "Don't you?"

Ezra smiled; his eyes were moist with emotion. "Yeah," he agreed. "They do."

Sabine wandered out of the bedroom a little after mid-day. Her hair was sticking up on one end; eyes still bleary from the long sleep, she shuffled over to the couch and sat down next to Ezra.

"Had a good sleep?" he asked her.

She laid her head onto his shoulder. "Mmmmm. First soft bed in weeks. Heavenly isn't strong enough to describe it."

He kissed her head softly. "Is Mandalore still doing alright? No one's gunning for another civil war? "

"Yeah, clan meeting went nice and smoothly," she replied drowsily. "Boring."

Ezra chuckled, strongly reminded of Hera's same response earlier this morning.

"Sounds like progress," he mused.

She shifted her head on his shoulder, moving into a more comfortable position. "Heard you talking with someone. Was it Hera?"

He nodded. Sabine grimaced. "You should have woken me up, goober."

"You were tired. Hera didn't mind. Said she'll call later, to catch up with you."

Sabine didn't argue back, which was an indication of just how exhausted she still was. "What did she want?"

Ezra produced from his pocket the trading cards. "She was dropping these off."

His wife sneaked a glance at them and let out a surprised breath. "Karabast," she muttered. "I forgot these were a thing."

"Freshly minted, first edition," he bragged. "Super rare and valuable, I'm told."

She snorted. "Whatever. We should sell them and buy tickets to a star cruise."

Setting the cards down on the worktable, Ezra grinned and hugged his wife close. "I'm also told," he said gently, "that ours are not to be sold separately."

Sabine went quiet.

He reached over and laced his hand in hers. "It's very thoughtful of you," he whispered. "Thank you."

She squeezed his hand back. "We're a package deal, Ezra. I don't want anyone separating us ever again. Even in something as silly as trading cards."

[eliotlime]

End of September Update

Just as a heads up, I'll be closing my commissions after the first week of October (06/10/2024) just so I can focus on other projects! If you'd like to order a bug from me or get any of my other regular commissions now's a good time to do so!

(Bugstyle | Regular Comms)

I made a really brief post on twitter about what I'm up to but since tumblr supports more text I'll just go into more depth on what projects I'm working on at the moment and general life updates!

I used to write blog posts on wordpress for school and it's just hilarious that I stopped doing that considering it feels like I was born to blog!

In general, I've been trying to crawl out of this very odd mood swing-y state I've been in for the past year. I've been semi-public about it but I graduated with a degree in animation same time last year and have sort of been recovering from the absolute burn out of that as well as watching the animation industry essentially collapse just as I left college.

I'm hoping to get into UI/UX design this coming October and try to piece what little control I have of my life back together. I don't really know what I'm doing to be honest and it feels like I'm just pawing in the dark with a lot of this stuff.

In lighter news I've been trying to get into something I've always wanted to for years which is comics! I'm not sure how much I can speak about it at the moment but I just got into an anthology which is very exciting.

I applied to shortbox last year but didn't get in :( but fingers crossed I'll get in next year! On a related note I've made a Cara profile which I'm using as a comics portfolio and archive.

--

Those of you who've been following me for years know that I've had a webcomic project called, Happenstance (which I've restarted endlessly for about 10 years at this point). While I don't really have a concrete update of that for you guys I will say that the story is more or less fixed and whatever version of it I have now is most likely the version I'll proceed with in the future.

I did try to get the ball rolling with this at the start of the year with a pilot comic but it made me so miserable to work on it I abandoned it and started making an unrelated zine instead haha

I do have plans on finishing this eventually and it'll be up on my itch.io and gumroad like everything else!

Speaking of the zine, I'd just like to thank everyone who purchased Cute Thing! I think for my first independent book project it did pretty well! It was incredibly embarrassing and nerve wrecking to promote it but I'm glad I did it.

I don't know why there's an 18+ warning on this considering this zine is pretty tame.

I guess it also helped that that stupid ass diary comic i made blew up at the same time so I got to shill my wares in relation to it. Even though I think it gave me some kind of psychological damage but every time i gain minor internet fame i shrink back into my shell anyway, this is just the first time i really felt so much.. vitriol from randos lol.

It's just hilarious it overlapped with whatever guilty gear obsession I had at the time as well. Thank you to everyone who stuck around and uh.. sorry! I walk wherever the wind takes me and it's frequently towards my own characters.

But! Speaking of Guilty Gear, I am working on an Abacelsus zine I briefly talked about on twitter a couple months back. The title is sort of pending at the moment and while I did say it might be free as a digital download, I'm probably going to charge a couple of dollars because of how much effort I'm putting into this.

On the plus side that means I'll probably be putting more effort into it! I'm aiming for 24 interior pages of stuff and hoping to release a digital version of it by Halloween 2024!

I'm trying to work on more prints and stickers for conventions as well and I never posted about my convention escapades here all too much but you can check out this instagram post for what I had up the last time I boothed!

That's kind of all for the stuff I'd like to get done within this year but other projects that I'd like to aim to get done by 2025 is a continuation of my Cute Thing zine that I'm aiming to collate by Valentines Day, hehe how romantic.

There's nothing terribly concrete for that at the moment but I do know I want it to have more pages than Cute Thing. It's called My Boy and yes it's named after another Car Seat Headrest song.

I've got a lot of irons in the fire and another iron is that I'm also planning a 4-panel comic series for my band characters that I've posted some pilots about before!

Pretty messy planning but most of my long form stuff looks like this.

A 4-panel comic series is just less intimidating than a fully coloured webcomic series (Happenstance) that I know will be finished decades later. I've also seen a lot of webcomic artists I've beloved just.. abandon their years long project and it's kind of scary to me that will definitely happen to me!!!

--

The long and short of it is that I've got a lot of projects and a majority of it is not making me any money. I'm extremely lucky to be surrounded by people that support my work but it gets hard to just do all of this by yourself with no guarantee that it'll go anywhere.

Patreon's a beast I've tried to tackle but it's kind of an ass of a website to use so I'll probably try to use ko-fi a bit more. I've kind of never really liked the subscription model and really do prefer to launch curated PDFs of my work every few months, but again I'm really just clawing at the dark and grasping at anything I can.

Let's wrap up this long post by mentioning that I might want to give streaming a shot! I used to stream a little when I was a teenager but I'd like to give it another go!

I don't think I'm going to have a dedicated persona or vtuber avatar but a small little png-tuber would be frankly hilarious. Maybe something casual to start of with, it gets pretty lonely spending everyday working on images alone.

--

Thank you for reading! It's an extremely long post to all but say that I'm scared but working on projects still! If you'd like to support me, here's my ko-fi page and while I'm working on getting more stuff on there here's my itchi.io & gumroad as well.

As I mentioned before I'm closing my commissions on the 6th of October to work on my Abacelsus zine so if you'd like to get a bug or any of my regular style commissions now's a good time to do so!

(Bugstyle | Regular Comms)

I'm hoping to make more update posts like these in the future and not psyche myself out every time because they're really good for me to collect my incredibly jumbled thoughts. Thanks again to everyone who's followed, supported or even just looked at my stuff it really means the world.

If you have any questions or just generally want to talk to me about my characters, my DMs and askbox is always open! Any professional enquires can be shot towards me email as well: eliotlime@gmail.com

XOXO, Stay weird!

-Eliot :)

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hallo! Could I possibly request a Tim Drake x M!Reader?

Seeing your autistic reader mirroring the batboys. I think it would be funny seeing the other Batboys (+ Batman maybe), react to reader and Tim mirroring eachother.

Maybe it doesn't start right away, but builds up steam over time. It starting with them rocking back in forth in sync while bouncing off info from an going case, to them picking up mannerisms.

Then maybe continued with their wardrobes becoming so mixed up, they just have double the clothes.

______

Honsetly, the thought of Damien being creeped out by Tim and Reader lifting their cups of coffee or energy drinks up in unison, makes me laugh harder than it should.

That or Bruce seeing Reader and Tim mirroring eachothers fighting style for the frist time and just like, 'what the fuck???'. Because, he probably tested Damien for autism snice they are blood, it's generic. Maybe, Dick for ADHD.

Then, it just slipped his mind to get Tim tested or even see the signs of autism in Tim. Because Bruce is autistic, so would just look at Tim and think, 'Yup, that's normal development .'

- Crow

Tim Drake x autistic male reader

Headcanons

Funny thing is I hc that pretty much the entire batfam is on the autism spectrum in some way or another. Bruce is autistic , Dick has ADHD or ADD, Jason has ASD or ODD, Tim is autistic, Damian is autistic and mild OCD.

Is this me projecting onto my comfort characters? Yes, yes it is. But come on, look at the batfam and tell me there isn’t at least a little tism in all of them.

You are also very right in Bruce just not noticing the signs in most of his kids since he’s autistic himself and that behavior is the norm for him. Alfred was most likely the one who had Bruce tested when he was younger, so it would have to be Alfred who steps in and advises them to get checked out, just in case.

Tim just happens to slip under the radar, maybe because of the stress at the time he joined the family, or they were all just too busy at the time, so it just slipped their minds.

Tim is also very good as masking, having grown up with his parents, acting “strange” wasn’t allowed, so he’s mastered the skill of hiding his less approved quirks. So, you’ll never see him stimming or rocking in public, or around people for that matter.

It was only after you two started dating and became very close that he started to let it slip, unconsciously of course. But it’s because he doesn’t feel the need to hide around you, and you are one of his comfort people.

The family doesn’t fully notice in the beginning as Tim grows more comfortable not masking and starts mirroring you. Infodumping is a common occurrence in the family, especially with the type of work they do, so when Tim is talking to you about cameras or his favorite band in extreme detail, They just think it’s a normal happening.

Damian is the first to notice, and he would think you two are trying to punk him somehow. When you and Tim always do things in tandem, picking up your drinks at the same time, always pushing your chairs back and getting up together, using the same type of glass or plates, etc.

He wouldn’t confront either of you obviously, since he doesn’t want to play into your hands. But then your mirroring becomes even more obvious. Like mirroring stims, meaning Tim starts stimming the same way you do.

Do you flap your hands? Tim now does too. Verbal stims? Catch Tim making the same noises over comms during patrol. You both also come to enjoy the same textures if you don’t already, because those textures remind you of each other.

It finally clicks for Bruce when he sees Tim and you wearing each other’s clothes and using stim toys, whilst rocking back and forth on the couch, excited to see your comfort movie. It makes Bruce want to facepalm because it’s been so obvious this entire time.

When he asks Alfred about it, the Brit just gives him a bland look whilst saying something along the lines of “Master Bruce, I thought it was obvious from the start”, because Bruce has a habit picking up kids with the tism.

After that Tim finally gets tested and gets his diagnosis. Not that it changes anything other than what’s on paper. But it does help Tim feel better, as in the past he probably struggled with feeling wrong or like he didn’t fit in.

When Damian also realizes you two weren’t trying to dupe him, he settles with his arms crossed and huffs, saying that of course that was the reason since you two couldn’t get the upper hand on him anyways.

The entire fam shares fidget toys or different coping things. The house is stocked with everyone’s comfort food, clothes, media, etc. The walls are made so sound doesn’t pass through them, the fridge and electronics are also upgraded so they don’t make those buzzing sounds. It’s like autism heaven.

You also are included since your dating Tim, and you two are very happy together. The family is also thankful in you helping Tim come out of his shell, even though neither of you realized you were doing it.

[officer-sebastian]

*Sebastian huffed and squeezed his way through an unexpected number of scientists and other employees through Sector E’s halls. Giving quick “excuse me’s” and “pardon me’s” as he kept rubbing shoulders with lab coats. Sebastian figured that this stretch of the Science Team must be clocking out for a late lunch, he’s never seen any sector’s halls so packed before, unless you count the highest level of top-side customer service and protection from the general and oddball public.*

Christ al’mighty Ah’m jus’ tryn’a git ta mah shift, y’know, th’shift that keeps y’all from actin’ like dogs without horses.. Clearly it ain’t helpin’ much, Jesus.

*After a few more left turns, the checkpoint position he had been assigned comes into view, another guard tapping his fingers on the desk and perking up at the sight of Sebastian.*

“Christ, Seb, what took you so fuckin’ long, eh? Was ‘bout to just clock out and leave this place hanging.”

*Sebastian just chuckled* Yeah, yeah, mighty sorry ‘bout that. Fer some damn reason th’halls were packed full of them lab rats an’ Ah could hardly git past. Go take’a piss an’ then cool off on yer lunch, Pauly, Ah got it from ‘ere.

*The guard scoffed and crossed his arms* “Whatever. Thankfully those old cronies only now just took lunch, what ever reason you’re filed under checkpoint over here, you’ll be glad to know it’s practically empty now. Have fun staring at the wall.”

Yer too kind. Ah take it ya prob’ly scared ‘em off an’-

*There was the faintest rumble between under their feet. Several lights from down the hall suddenly flicker and blow out, the emergency lights immediately turn on, painting the metallic walls an eerie red. Sebastian goes quiet at that, steadily eyeing the darkened hallway and listening close for anything suspicious.*

*Officer Pauly swallows audibly, eyes still on Sebastian* “The hell was tha-“

*BUZWARN* Warning. Power Outages Detected In [SECTOR E]. All Affected Personnel Please Be Advised.

*BUZWARN* Warning. Unauthorized Biological Forms Detected In [SECTOR E]. All Non-Disaster Response Personnel Evacuate Immediately.

*GARBLED BUZWARN* Warning. W-Warning. Security i̴̜̒̚͠n̵̢̫̞͍̍̆ ̵̢̦͈̜̏̂̑̉[̶̨̰̹̟́͛̑̓S̶̢̰̤͛̀ͅĖ̵̟̲̌Ć̴̥͍̣̞́̐T̴̯̿O̴̻̮͚̅Ṛ̵̠̟͍͒͆́̄ ̵͔̓Ḙ̷́̏͘]̷̧̪͗̎͗͋ ̵̠̝͌͜͝R̵̖̼̰̬̅̍e̴̱̔͒̌p̷̡̙̥̜̊͆õ̸̻r̴̗̤̀̽̏̇t̶̨̧̺̫͠ ̵̞̻̲͑̑́̐T̷̯̰̘̦̍̒̌ơ̴̼͔̿ ̵̘̣́[̶̖̰̓̇̓Ḁ̸͓̞̿̂̔̌D̷̞̫̣̻͗͗V̴͓̿A̸̢̻̤̘͂N̶̳̙̫̊͂C̷̜͎̆E̴̙̘͛̉̈̕D̷͙͕̜̹́͝ ̴̠͖̗͛͝ͅB̷̲̞͊̊͗Ḯ̸̘Ợ̵̩̒̏̇L̸͉̖̒̄̆̉O̵͇̅̀͘͝G̶͓͇̊̓̽Ḭ̴̦̥͕̌̌̊Ç̷̓A̴̮͉̩̋̀̀ͅL̶͎̈̆̇̚ ̸̗͕͌R̴̨̰̋̾͝È̷̺͕̏̓ͅS̴͕͆̚E̴͚̩̫̍̀̆͜͝A̷̼͋̃̍R̸̤̳͑̚C̴̩͕̼̬͠H̶̥̤̓ ̴͖̦̱̈̓͂̈͜C̶͙̿̒O̶̼̖̳̼͆M̷̠̖̬̦̽̾P̵̠͕̰̈͂̇L̸̝̀E̴̺̮̱̊̈̑͠X̵̛̗̹̂]̷͍́̃͑́ ̷̬͈̬͖̋͆Ị̸̛̩̲̦͒̅m̷̦̠͋̇̃͠m̵̖͕̙͉̿̚ë̸̬́̋͌d̴͈̹̝̀i̵̤̔̈́à̴̟͇̍̓͌t̸̲͍̦͒̽̄e̵̠̽̈́̇̈́l̶̰̍͜y̷̡̧̘̒̏̈́̈

*The two security guards listened in shocked silence as the automated comms buzzed in and out, the emergency lights flicking at the same time. Sebastian persed his lips in a straight line, taking a deep breath and suddenly pushing Pauly into the checkpoint box*

“THE HELL ARE YOU-?!” *The guard began to shout in protest, before Sebastian tossed him inside and shut the door. Pauly gets up immediately, pounding on the glass* “OI ASSHOLE! The fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

*Sebastian snapped his fingers and put one up to his lips* Quiet. Ah’m goin’ ta check it out. It ain’t lookin’ good on our department if they go an’ lose two men on th’job. Ya sit tight an’ wait it out fer me, ‘kay?

*The guard sputtered a few times at that response, gesturing his hands wildly before sighing and giving up any retort, having known Sebastian long enough to know arguing with him like this is fruitless* “If you go and get yourself killed I won’t be there for whatever shoddy funeral they give you. It’ll be all your fault down to the grave, Seb.”

Thank ya, kindly, Pauly. How ‘bout we go an’ git’a beer with th’boys if Ah make back it in at least 3/4s? Ah’ll make a’bet with ya. *Sebastian clicks off the safety of his pistol and checks the magazine while he talks*

“Wh- Pfft, fucksake, Sebastian. Fine, whatever, I’ll bet. Quit wasting time.”

*Sebastian nods and runs down the hallway, making a salute with his pistol before turning around completely*

[azlia-iconoclast]

All that is confirmed will be modified:

the abortion ban that already exist to state level and killed teens on texas because they got denied even in a SA situationa will now be nationwide

ending any chance to integrate minorities and just letting the hate and discrimination run rampant again without institutions to keep watch

allowing states to ban diverse number of Healthcare treatments and medications which go from gender hormones to the morning after pills

tariffs are gonna have backlash and cause countertarrifs ending many of our trade deals and evaluating the dollars

the billionares that backed trump like the ultraconservative Timothy mellon, the heritage foundation with the hyper religious agaenda or elon musk that is obsessed with hating public transport and trans people are going to have free reign to do as they please.

the ending of several institution and more privatization which includes less education subsidies for poor families, help for disabled people, subsidies for Healthcare, the weather system and report, the department of education shrinking and allowing old religious policies, the watch for the compliance of the civil rights act is going to disappear , the department of health is also going to shirk, the watch for compliance for climate change is going to disappear the DEI, EPA, and the ACA will be erased with many more, just to name the ones that are going to affect directly the most

as consequence of the mentioned institutions disappearing hate speech will basically be legal again affecting the culture and the amount of religious propaganda, discrimination while hiring and helping disable people get a job will be legally impossible

completing the genocide in gaza and continuing funding Israel expansion into Lebanon not to mention he's dividing Ukraine in 2 with a neutral zone which will cause a second bigger war because nobody is going to be conformed with that.

the peace attempts that were happening with china over Taiwan and Hong kong are now going to be closed leaving war as only option for the long future

The SCOTUS will now have 5 of 9 Supreme Court LIFETIME seats filled by Trump and the damage will be generational given the justices are young for the lifelong position and all 5 are part of the Christian nationals. Any attempt to undo what trump is going to damage with his policies will be blocked by their majority specially the medical bans and the freedom corporations will now have, so not only our full generation will suffer trump legacy but your kids and their kids

when trump took the confidential documents boxes to mar a lago when he lost last election it made him look to NATO and the 5 eyes intelligence institution (fuck them both hypocrite imperialists) complain for the security risk which means the allies will not want to share intel with the us now that he's back forcing America to have the old interventionist spionage role to get it's own, which will increase world tensions.

whether people voted for trump to punish dems not fulfilling their promises or being part of such mentioned genocides, because they hate the lgbtq and DEI or they really want to go back to the dark ages culturally and socially with christian nationalism ideology, all of them just shot themselves and everyone kids future.

Adieu à jamais Amérique, je croyais que tu changeais mais ceci est ton cœur et ton vrai visage, je pensais vivre ici plus d'un siècle et t'aider à te transformer, mais il est clair que tu choisis la Cruauté. J'ai de toute façon un dernier coup à tirer, si cela se brise au moins je mourrai enfin avant que tu ne commences ton interventionnisme mondial comme dans les années 50 encore.

[thejoyofseax]

SCA Social Media

Aside from being a cooking nerd, I'm also very interested in communications and information flow. It would be reasonable to say that inasmuch as a Pelican is awarded for any one thing, I got mine in comms and diplomacy. (Or at least, I assume so; I don't have visibility on the discussions the Pelican circle had about me pre-elevation.) I'm also Drachenwald's social media minister.

There's a thing I see cropping up recently among Facebook users in the various social media: a strongly stated dislike of Discord. For context, there's a shift underway in Drachenwald for the bulk of day to day communications, from Facebook to Discord. Discord has a wide range of technical advantages over Facebook, and it's more used by the younger generations who are (gradually) taking over running things from the older folks. But there are many people who will happily state that they hate Discord.

I don't like Facebook, myself. It was a decent enough medium in about 2014; it has gotten worse in every measurable way since (except shareholder value, of course). It's particularly useless for trying to get information to people; every part of it is governed by an algorithm that selects what to show on any given screen, based mostly on what will annoy them most (annoyance leads to more time spent looking at the screen than any other emotion, ergo more time looking at ads, ergo more money for Meta).

Discord (at present; I make zero long-term predictions, and fully expect it to start getting worse at some point) has no such issues - the information flow on it is under the control of the server admin, pretty much, and it's searchable and categorisable as needed. Also, I just like the feel of Discord more; it's a lot more like a real conversation than Facebook's shouting-across-the-corporate-lobby atmosphere.

But this dislike of the new medium isn't new. Humans, for all we're supposed to like novelty, dislike change. I wrote as a comment in one of the discussions on Facebook:

"Facebook was massively polarising when it first started, because it was "taking over" from discussion lists. Discussion lists were massively polarising when they first started because they were taking over (assume scare quotes from here on) from newsgroups and phone trees. Phone trees and newsgroups were absolutely HATED when they started, taking over from paper newsletters (some of which were from before printing and photocopying was a thing, and were produced by mimeographic printing). If I dig around, I can find things written by Crusty Old Peers at each stage of this maintaining that the New Thing Will Destroy The SCA."

And you can extend that beyond the SCA right back to Plato complaining that the written word will prevent people from learning properly as they did in oral traditions.

My current position on this is that we should be using our websites - which are the one medium we actually "own", generally - as the source of actual information. We can then link to that from anywhere else on the internet, social or not. And the conversations can fall where they may, for each branch and household and other grouping, because honestly, that's how it's always been. If people don't like Discord, they don't have to use it, and it's only us unfortunate comms people who have to use all the different media.

(I recognise the irony of posting this on Another Social Medium. But Tumblr behaves more like a website for publication purposes, and comes with many of the advantages for getting information to people - RSS feeds, deep linking, etc.)

I'm also going to teach some classes on how to actually use Discord, I think. I've been steeped in talkers, IRC, and other channel-and-text media as long as I've been online, which is closing on 30 years now, so there are almost certainly aspects of functionality there that I take for granted and which are not evident to people unused to it. Or they're expecting it to work the same way as Facebook does, and don't have the technical experience to jump to a different medium. Either way, a start-with-the-basics actual-demonstration of how to use it is almost certainly useful.

[endcrman]

Allostasis

(Chapter 2)

As a general rule of thumb, Grian doesn’t do public servers for a multitude of reasons. This one hadn’t even made it onto the list.

TW for implied sexual assault, PTSD symptoms, Self-Neglect, and minor Disordered Eating

Read the whole fic here.

-

Grian woke to more messages. Some from hermits, but he didn't bother looking at those too closely, too preoccupied with the hours-old notification in the universal chat.

samgladiator: griannnnnnn

samgladiator: i know you havent blocked me grian cmon

samgladiator: are you mad about the redstone thingy? i was just goofing and gaffing you know what im like lol

Grian laid his head back against his pillow, eyes closed as he tried to figure out how to respond. His eye hurt. He didn't want to get out of bed. He didn't want to build, he didn't want to fish, he didn't want to work on anything right now. He was tired.

His comm buzzed again.

GoodTimeWithScar: hey grain, how are you doing after yesterday?

Grian: bit tired, but just fine! thanks for checking in

He was tapping out a lie before he could even think about it, not wanting to worry Scar. He had enough to concern himself with even before Grian was involved, he didn't have to add any more stressors to his plate.

Scar said something else, but Grian had closed his messages already, opening Sam's again, staring at them. What was he even supposed to say to that? Call him out on his bullshit? Laugh along with his shitty excuse of a joke? A voice in the back of his head was telling Grian to block him, but that would just make Sam mad, he reasoned.

Grian: what do you want sam

He regretted the message the instant he sent it, flinching as he turned off his comm again. Why was he so stupid? Why couldn't he leave well enough alone?

Grian turned over on his side, pulling a pillow over his head with a groan as the communicator buzzed. If only he hadn't just woken up, then he could fall asleep again and ignore all of this for even longer. 

Of course, Grian had no such luck. Instead he laid there, staring at the blank wall in front of him.

His comm buzzed yet again and Grian let out a bitter laugh, he could almost imagine Sam staring in anticipation at his own comm, waiting for Grian to get back to him after all this time. It was kind of pathetic, if that was what he was doing. How lonely was he?

And yet, Grian was reaching over to read his messages anyways.

samgladiator: i'm sorry.

samgladiator: like for real. no jokes. i know we were really messed up as kids and ive been working on it i promise. i guess i saw you and it just felt like we were kids again. fucked up but still in it together. i didnt mean it

He was still trying to process the words when another message came through, automatically populating the chat.

samgladiator: you can keep ignoring me if you want, i get it :( but if youre ever willing, i wanna make it up to you. text me whenever

He was going to throw up. There were a few panicked moments as he dug through his chests, silently pleading to anyone listening that he actually had a bucket up in his base, not just lost in his chest monster down below. His wishes were answered luckily, however unneeded, as he curled over the metal bucket on the floor, retching and dry heaving. His stomach was already empty, bile burning his throat, but that wasn't enough to curb the ill piercing it's way through his entire being.

Grian wasn't sure how long he sat there, bucket in his lap as his body tried to evacuate his stomach's non-existent contents. He was trembling when he finally managed to stop gagging, the bucket empty aside from a couple stray tears that had made their way down his cheeks. He was so tired again.

Shakily, he set the bucket down on the ground, easily accessible just in case. The sound of metal meeting the wooden floor was so, so loud in his ears, echoing around his base, making him flinch. Grian took a deep breath, carefully getting up on two wobbly legs before rolling into bed again. He should eat. 

He didn't get up, falling asleep again.

-

I'm sorry. Sam might as well have written those words on the inside of Grian's eyelids, as often as he was stuck thinking about them. Sam didn't apologize, that was part of what made him so insufferable to begin with, always convinced that he was in the right. So what the hell was this?

Grian wasn't sure how long it had been since he received those last messages from Sam, not really bothering with the passage of time. He'd spent most of said time thinking, turning over what had happened and what Sam had said in his head, picking at pieces of food he had laying around the base, and making up excuses to not have to see any other hermits.

He knew he was in a sorry state, and he knew he had to pull himself together before anybody saw him. Unfortunately, the universe seemed to have other plans.

“Grian!” Joel's voice was loud, Grian almost didn't recognize it as his own name, directed towards him. He pulled a pillow over his head, squeezing his eyes shut. Maybe if he ignored him, he'd go away.

That was too much to hope for though. Why would Joel ever go away when he could cause problems instead?

“Grian! It's Sunday!” His voice was getting closer, and all Grian could think to do was hold the pillow even tighter over his head. “It's Sunday and you're not at the permit office! Get your butt out here! Or else I'll come in, and drag you out of your birdhouse by your scrawny little ankles, I swear to-'' Joel's voice peaked in both volume and proximity the same time it petered off into uncertainty. Then, it was quieter again. “Grian?”

Grian just groaned in response, holding the pillow even tighter over his head, maybe he could suffocate in it. Then he would respawn, Joel would laugh it off, call him some names for being stupid enough to do something like that, and everything would go back to normal instead of whatever else was about to happen, whatever lecture he was about to receive.

No such luck. Instead he felt a touch on his forearm, something he instinctively rolled away from which left him looking up at the other, wide eyes meeting even wider. He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t force anything to come out. He noticed too late to stop just how tightly he was clutching the pillow to his chest, he must look like a mess.

Joel slowly withdrew his hand, and judging by how his brows furrowed and ears flattened against the top of his head the mess part was definitely true. Without wasting another moment, Joel schooled his expression into something more neutral— as if his tail flicking back and forth didn’t give him away— and sat bodily onto the foot of Grian’s bed, bouncing on the mattress.

“You seem busy, the permit office can wait,” he said with a shrug, not looking directly at Grian. He sat cross-legged, pulling his tail into his lap to brush the fur into place, pulling out a leaf and dropping it on the floor without even checking if Grian would care. His wings itched at the reminder of what could be. “Impulse’s wall is starting to get some graffiti on it, have you had a chance to see? Gem’s got a real good tag up there, I think you’d like it.”

Grian was silent, pulling his legs up just a bit so they weren’t in Joel’s way and shifting onto his back to look up at the ceiling instead of the tanuki in front of him. He couldn’t tell if this was better or worse than if the other had just confronted him about what was going on.

“I’ve actually been thinking about what I want to put on it,” Joel continued after a moment, as if the other actually had responded. Grian’s muscles ached from the sudden movements after what felt like days of disuse, leading to him stretching his legs out again, around Joel this time, but he didn’t seem to mind. “I need to put something up over by my base, I couldn’t stand it if it didn’t match my build, even if it was undeniably fantastic.”

He just kept talking, filling the empty air with his voice. Grian wouldn’t admit it, but it was sort of soothing, having somebody else around instead of just jumping from thought to thought, getting lost in them and feeling worse and worse.

It did start feeling awkward after a little, having Joel sit while he laid in bed, so Grian forced himself to sit up even as his muscles protested, at least a little, leaning back against the headboard of his bed.

“Thought you might have fallen asleep or something,” Joel joked once Grian had settled, making him look away in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t have blamed you, you look blummin’ tired, huge bags under your eyes. Something bothering you?” He asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious. Grian only shrugged, not trusting his voice after so long, thankfully Joel didn’t push for an answer beyond that, coming to the same conclusion. “Stupid question, sorry. New question, when’s the last time you got out of bed?”

Grian must have made a face at that, because Joel laughed before managing to catch himself, snapping his mouth shut, which pulled the quietest huff of laughter out of Grian in turn. Just that by itself made his throat hurt a bit.

“Don’t laugh at me, I’m trying to be a good friend here.” Joel’s tone was light, and his smile made it clear he considered the small noise a success. “Hey, bed boy, let’s get you up and clean, how’s that sound? You go shower, and I’ll make you some real food.”

He wanted to protest, but his throat felt all closed up, and his traitor of a stomach growled at the thought of something other than stale bread for the first time in forever. Instead he pouted, petulant, and held his hands out.

“Yes!” Joel pumped his fist, making Grian roll his eyes. This was so stupid. “Sorry, come on, let’s get you moving again.” He slid off the bed first, taking Grian’s hands and helping him stand up. He almost fell at first, leaning far too much of his weight onto Joel, his legs wanting to do nothing but lay down again. “Careful, can you stand by yourself?”

It took a couple hundred ticks for him to stop swaying, and a couple more for him to finally stand on his own, wings spread just a bit to help him keep balance. He took a deep breath, trying to think of anything but said wings.

“Good job, you’re doing great,” Joel murmured, and it didn’t sound mocking at all, but Grian couldn’t help himself from ruining everything good that happened to him.

“I’m not a child,” he croaked out, voice rough from disuse, it almost didn’t sound like him.

Joel must have thought the same, because he looked shocked, though he quickly gathered himself again. “I know you’re not,” he scolded gently, too kind, “but you look like you’ve been through hell and back, and I want to make this as easy for you as possible."

And now he felt bad, guilty, for ever considering anything different than that. “Sorry,” he managed, even quieter, but Joel shook his head.

“Go get cleaned up, alright? I’ll make some food for you.” He brushed Grian’s hair out of his eyes, brows furrowing again, and he only pulled away when Grian nodded, throat hurting too much to say anything else at the moment.

He didn’t think Joel was going to find anything to make in his base right now, having neglected to actually fill many of the chests, Grian was lucky to have had enough bread to last him as long as it had. Regardless, he made his way to the tiny shower he’d managed to cram into the base, cranking the water heat up as high as it could for now and carefully pulling his t-shirt he’d been wearing for void knows how long off over his wings. He crinkled his nose, imagining the smell he’d become blind to and immediately feeling grateful that Joel hadn’t said anything about it.

Grian kicked off his pants without much fanfare and immediately dove into the shower, melting under the hot water. Now that he was made aware of it, he could feel the layer of grime that was surely there covering his skin, burning water finally melting it away. He carefully sat on the floor of the shower, barely managing to fit in the small space, especially with his wings. He took a deep breath, resting his head on the wall behind him, and just soaked it up like a fish left out of the river for too long, he chuckled softly to himself at the comparison.

He must have dozed off or something, because he jolted awake at the sharp knock on the door, and Joel's voice coming from just outside of it. “You alright in there Grian? Food’s almost done!”

“Y-yeah!” He called back before even thinking about it, regretting it immediately, voice scratchy. His throat hurt, but he didn't have time to worry about that, fumbling for the shampoo among the other bottles in the shower with him.

He definitely spent too much time just sitting under the water, so he tried to properly clean himself up as quickly as possible, so Joel wouldn't be left waiting. It wasn't long before he was out again, towel around his waist, hair and feathers dripping as he peeked out the door into the rest of the base.

“Joel?” He tried not to speak too loudly, not wanting to irritate his throat more, but he needed the other's attention. It seemed the other wasn't wandering far though, with how quickly he reappeared. “Can you-” He coughed. “Can you bring me clean clothes?”

Joel brightened up the more he spoke, nodding quickly as his tail swished behind him. “Of course! Be right back!” And he was off again.

He was back just as quick, and Grian didn't have the energy to ask him how he managed to find everything so easily, and whether or not his closet was left in decent state. Instead he closed the bathroom door again, pulling on clean clothes and already feeling a bit better. The sweater topped that feeling off, covering him like a security blanket. He shook the water out of his hair and wings before padding out into the main room again, catching a whiff of something that smelled amazing.

“Hey,” Grian's gaze fell on Joel, who was setting up a place for him to sit. “Your hair's a mess still.”

He blushed, shrugging his shoulders. He sat down before Joel even suggested he did, feeling tired.

“I can brush it for you,” he offered, setting down a grilled salmon in front of Grian, whose mouth was watering already. “I've done it for Lizzie before, I promise not to pull.”

“Did you catch this?” Grian asked instead, forcing himself to slow down before he ate the whole thing immediately.

“Borrowed one of your poles, figured you wouldn't mind too much,” Joel explained, setting a steaming mug down in front of him too.

He hummed softly in response, forcing himself to slow down after a couple bites and taking a sip of the tea Joel had made him. Far too sweet.

“I added some extra honey,” either Joel was reading his mind, or he'd made a face without realizing. “Your throat sounded pretty rough, it'll be good for you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, truly meaning it, whether it sounded that way or not. Joel was pretty quiet while he finished eating, puttering around the small base, occupying himself. Eventually he finished, pushing the plate away for later, and he heard Joel coming up behind him.

“I found your brush, mind if I take care of your hair?”

Grian sighed, a little smile creeping onto his face. “I guess, you promised not to pull though,” he reminded the other, head tilting back a bit.

“And I meant it!” Joel sounded offended, though he snickered after a second. “It'll help, you'll feel more like a person,” he murmured, and Grian felt him starting to work his fingers through his hair.

“You've been helping a lot already,” Grian admitted softly, relaxing easily into the touch. How long was his hair now? It couldn't be too much longer than he usually kept it.

“Glad to hear,” for once Joel didn't sound smug or full of himself, just genuinely glad. “How long have you been out of it?” The brush started working it's way through his hair.

“Dunno,” Grian mumbled, taking a deep breath. “Since… Since I last went off server,” he felt himself tense a little at the reminder, wings twitching.

“With Scar and Mumbo?” Joel kept his tone even, non-judgemental for once. “They mentioned your eye, was that what happened?”

A hand suddenly flew up to his eye, gently touching the skin near it. “P-part of it. Is it still there?” He'd been avoiding looking in the mirror since.

“Barely,” Joel assured him, and the motion of the brush through his hair started relaxing him again. “I only noticed because I knew to look for it. You said part, what else happened?”

He felt like his throat was closing up, eyes watering a little. “My- my wings,” he managed out, taking a deep breath. “Something happened.”

“Something,” Joel repeated, hands never stopping. “Are they alright? Nothing broken at least? They don't look broken.”

“N-nothing broken,” Grian confirmed, feeling them tremble, just a little. “Don't really wanna-”

“That's fine,” Joel murmured, and it was quiet for a moment. “With me? Or with anyone?”

He didn't know how to answer that, opening his mouth to begin speaking, only to close it when he couldn't think of anything. No, not Joel specifically, but he wasn't sure who, if he would anyone.

“I usually braid Lizzie's hair when I'm done,” Joel said nonchalantly, the brush regretfully leaving Grian's head, “but yours is pretty short. We could try a little ponytail if you want, I think it'd be fun.”

Grian shook his head, reaching for the mug of tea again. Knowing Joel, he'd gather up all the hair in front of his head, pull it all together right on his forehead… Though maybe not today specifically.

There was silence for a bit, comfortable, until Joel decided to speak again. “Would you tell Mumbo?”

Grian froze. Would he? He could. Mumbo knew the kind of stuff he went through when he was young, even if just vaguely. He was scared though, there was always the chance, no matter how small, that Mumbo would scold him when he found out just how deep that rabbit hole went.

“Careful, you'll shatter that,” Joel warned him, moving to take the mug from his white-knuckled hands, setting it down on the table again. Grian hadn't even noticed how tightly he'd been holding onto it. “Not Mumbo then, what about Scar?”

Scar. Scar didn't know any of it. At least, he knew less than Mumbo, he'd have less context clues to put it all together, he'd be reliant on the details Grian told him, and only those.

“... Maybe, I don't know,” he answered honestly, tracing the grain in the table with his finger.

“Maybe is better than no, or trying to shatter a cup of boiling tea all over yourself,” Joel was being dramatic, it wasn't even steaming anymore. “Why don't you take a nap? I'll get him over here in the meantime, I think he'll help, even if you don't tell him.”

Grian hadn't even realized how tired he was again, the thought of a nap sounding much more pleasing to him than it usually would. He didn't even think to argue, nodding as he carefully got up from the table, a yawn escaping him.

“Careful now,” Joel warned, helping him to bed. Grian would have taken offense at that were he not so exhausted, and the second he was laying down again he was out like a light.

[decepti-thots]

my take on the fact that a lot of fic recs have moved to private platforms (eg closed discord servers) is twofold:

in my experience this lines up with a far greater expectation in modern fandom spaces to never say anything remotely critical of a fic in any public setting, even if you aren't speaking directly to the author. on LJ, a lot of fic recs posted by people on their own blogs or to general fic rec comms were allowed to have a certain amount of 'love this fic, though i didn't think [xyz part] was a strong suit' in them. then came the move to social media-style platforms where public tagging and maximum discoverability of all posts all the time made this much less acceptable to many people, and authors started complaining more and more about fic recs being rude if they ever mentioned anything less than positive. but a lot of people still want to have those discussions about fics with other readers they're reccing them to. the solution was that many people now rec fics privately or at least in "closed" places like discord now. it's partly a very natural outgrowth of a change in author expectations about how their work is discussed. it is not wholly reader-habit driven.

in general, what a lot of more private discussion of fics offers readers IS that it can be a place the author cannot see what's being said out of respect for fannish etiquette. i feel like we as fic authors often fantasize that these group chats and discord servers our fics are being talked about on that are full of nothing but long, eloquent discussions of how amazing the fics being discussed are, cruelly gatekept from the very authors who would love to see these discussions. but listen. i can assure you just as many chats exist because it would be very mean to actually comment 'look, i KNOW the writing is godawful, but this kink is so rare i don't care' anywhere the author has the slightest chance of seeing it. alongside way less extreme examples. but the principle holds, yknow?

if we do want this stuff to go back to being overwhelmingly public, the trade-off is- and has always been!- that people who earnestly recommend or discuss your work in their own spaces are occasionally going to have little caveats or criticisms they think it's important to mention to anyone who might check your work out. and you have to be cool with that. and if you can't be cool with it they're going to do it in DMs where you can't see. shrug.

[dreamworldemojis]

hi there!

my name’s kelsie: this is my emoji blog!

mostly make these for myself but I do take requests! request: OPEN (not guaranteed)

TERMS OF SERVICE:

do not use my emotes if you are/support: transID, transmed, bigotry, trump supporter, endogenic systems, homophobia, transphobia, anti regression, harmful labels, anti Palestine, racist, sexist, misogynist, do not believe in freedom of religion, ableist, or a general hater.

do not use my emojis in NSFW/Kink spaces.

I support: LGBTQ, disabled people, freedom of religion without pushing it on others, women, people of color, traumagenic systems, pro-Palestine, regression, and supporting other creators 🫶

Usage: Credit in the emoji name is not required unless you want to, you can credit with “dream_” in front of the emojis. If someone asks where you get the emoji it is required to say where. If your server is public a credit channel with my Tumblr linked is required.

if you violate my terms, you will be blocked and banned from all my servers.

i also do commissions! (My comms are closed right now.)

that’s about it, hope you stop by again soon! :>

[tellmealittlelie]

Against the Dying Light - Preface

Gunshots echoed ominously through his earpiece. It wasn’t the first time; firefights were a regular and expected occurrence within his occupation and were something to be expected. However, this time, something felt off - different almost from the semi-habitual fights.

He knew that this mission was going to be a tough one, but he trusted his team and knew that they trusted him to protect them as well. The semi-regular popping of gunfire paused for a moment before he heard something that couldn’t help but rattle his bones. 

His Captain, the famous (in the right circles of course, to the general public, his Captain was a boring paper pusher nobody) John Price was someone who was hard to shock or upset visibly. His Captain simply tended to light a cigar if unrestful and even that couldn’t always be linked back to stress.

However, as his Captain’s voice rattled over the comms system, an uncommon edge of panic was clear in his voice, even terror shone through. His heart dropped to the ground as Price called out for one of his closest companions, one John MacTavish.

Though Ghost had had a rough upbringing, and a debatably rougher adulthood, since Johnny had joined the 141, things for him had been looking brighter than they ever had. While Johnny had at first annoyed him, if nothing else, he soon grew to care and thrust deeply in the man and even considered him a close friend. 

In fact, it could be said that Johnny was the person that he was closest to. While Ghost would never call it hero worship, especially out loud, Johnny, ever the enigmatic and talkative scotsman, brought out similar feelings in him, that of immense adoration and some other familial feelings that he couldn’t quite place.

His attention was now lasered on the comms as gunshots were fired once again and a terrible muffled bang crackled through the comms, much too close to have originated from one of their weapons. “Johnny! Soap, how copy? Bravo 7-1!”

No sound came through for a moment that seemed to stretch on longer than an eternity. But even then, no response clackled though from the Sergeant. As he was about to repeat the inquiry, hoping deep in his chest that Johnny’s mic had simply been broken, his hopes were shattered in an instant. “Bravo 7-1 down.”

The world stopped and his mind went blank, for what he would reflect on incessantly as too, much too, long. His Johnny! When his mind finally cleared after a moment, his mind refocused on finding Price and Soap. Spinning on his heel, he sprinted down the hall, ignoring all training as he rushed toward his injured comrade. 

In the hall, he was met by an equally frazzled Gaz who joined him without question. The pair of them sprinted towards Price who had just fired a shot, fatally downing the last Shadow. 

His eyes scanned rapidly around the room, almost missing the limp body laying on the cool pavement floor. When his eyes managed to focus on the limp form, he rushed to its side and fell to his knees beside it. It was Johnny. His heart seemed to stop. Trying to ignore the ever growing pool of crimson leaking from the side of Johnny’s head, he checked for vitals, finding none he choked down a shaking sob.

A moment later, soft bootfalls echoed at his side before stopping beside him. Gaz dropped to his knees beside him and silently took one of his friend’s hands on his own. After his moment of distraction, Ghost’s focus was back to Johnny.

His pretty eyes were closed, and his face echoed a feeling of sleep and soft contentment. As emotions overwhelmed him, Ghost started CPR, something that he had practiced and trained for many times, but had never had to use till now. 

His focus was lazer sharp and he positioned his arms between Johnny’s pecs, and started the 30 compressions, a moment later, however, a soft but firm hand gripped his shoulder, stalling his motions. “Ghost, he’s dead. There’s nothing you can do for him now.” 

Rage, pure and deep from within him rose to the surface, how dare Price speak this way? Didn’t he care that his Johnny was hurt? That the best fucking seargant that they had ever had was lying limply in a pool of his own blood?\

If Price hadn’t been his Captain, he would have fucking socked the older man in the face. Seeing his raging anger, Price spoke once again, “He died quickly, he didn’t suffer.”

Price nodded at Gaz, who had still been gripping Soap’s hand tearfully, to get up and get his gear. While the location had been momentarily secured, at any moment more Shadow’s could show up and put them in an even worse position.

Price spoke into his comms, “Watcher, Bravo 0-6. Target eliminated, one KIA. Ready for extraction.”

[brandwhorestarscream]

Hmm. Pharma or Rodimus or Ravage. I think you've covered most of my other faves.

PRAISE THE GODS, YOU'RE AN ANGEL

So! I actually do have quite a bit done for Rodimus, actually! He was born to an unwilling warframe surrogate early into the planet's reformation. His parents that raised him, neither of them could bear sparklings thanks to the war, so they turned to warframe surrogacy. Because Rodimus was born "of high quality", i.e. a civilian frame with blue optics (a high quality baby would come to mean smthn entirely different later), they were allowed to fully and completely adopt him, and he was raised entirely ignorant to the fact that his carrier wasn't actually his carrier.

He's very young, all things considered, when he's named a Prime. Optimus can feel the Matrix straining to separate itself from him, demanding a new host, though he doesn't know if it's because he's no longer up to its' standards, or if it's just another's fate to carry on the legacy of the Primes at this point. He's surprised when the Matrix selects this young mecha barely out of his secondary education program, and Hot Rod is even moreso. He's a perfectly normal, average child growing up in the first generation born to post-war Cybertron: he lives in a quiet middle class neighborhood with his two parents, and has zero interest in politics or powers. But suddenly he's getting dragged off to central Iacon for a fancy ceremony, flanked by bodyguards and attendants and a dozen coaches all telling him what he can and can't do, how to act, and that he's going to be working closely with the Senate and communing with the gods from now on. It's drastically uncomfortable, it's terrifying, and he hates it. He wants no part of it but he can't refuse: against his will, he's named Rodimus Prime, and moved into the Primal palace-estate-thingy.

Being a Prime comes with a whole slew of new privileges, including a team of attendants and staff that he owns. Warframes born in the same facilities as him, in the same circumstances, but forced to serve him as their master without a single question or care as to what they want. The whole thing makes him anxious and sick, and no matter how loudly he insists that he doesn't want them, no one will hear him. He spends the next several vorns shut up in this beautiful prison, only really invited outside for public appearances to be gawked at and for uppity ceremonies where he's called to "hear the words of the gods". The Matrix is a heavy, invasive weight in his chassis, and he doesn't at all feel like the wise or all knowing beacon of hope that he's supposed to be.

During his time in the Primal residency, he makes friends with his staff. His... slaves. The word makes him nauseous, and he forbids them from using it in his presence. Overtime they slowly get used to each other, comfortable, and they start talking to him. He learns all about them, how they're all vibrant individuals with their own personalities and wants and desires, and no amount of insistence from outside forces that they're little more than drones can get to him. He comes to care about them, every single one--they're all his beloved friends and he'd go to war for any one of the.

Eventually, fond feelings begin to blossom and he finds himself desperately in love with one of them. He hatches a plan to escape, to get them all off the planet, cooking up some grand lie about the Matrix calling him off planet. Go forth into the universe, find more places where Cybertron's seeds can take root, expand our empire and grow more colonies. It's a grand televised event, everyone worldwide watching as their Prime sets off in the Lost Light on a quest sent to him from Primus Himself.

The transwarp drive malfunctions, and the ship explodes just as it's initiating the first jump.

The ship's signal is lost. It can't be tracked or reached on the comms. Rodimus Prime is declared dead after a lengthy search, and the Matrix is lost to space. He's globally mourned, and the next mech declared a Prime can't truly fulfil their entire purpose, but that little fact is swept under the rug by the Senate.

In reality, Rodimus orchestrated the entire thing, and as soon as they arrive to their first destination, Rodimus helps each and every member of crew berid of the brands that marked them as property, removing his own autobot badge and declaring them all free and equal. Now the Lost Light is travelling freely through the universe, it's crew close as family, each of them so grateful to have their lives under their own control at last.

...

Holy shit this got long lmaooo. To avoid making this 8 billion words, I'll post Pharma and Ravage separately! I hope you enjoyed ^-^

[another-corpo-rat]

wip wednesday

technically wednesday here tho if i'll ever finish this cos it was written by the seat of my pants so-

have a lil whatever this is

And still—

I love you.

It’s hardly them.

It’ll never be them, so Victoria sighs and rolls her eyes, reaching effortlessly for a distaste that sits comfortable in her arsenal and ignores the cyborg behind her. Standing too close to be nothing but familiar, a towering sentinel that she knows beyond intimately and perhaps even beyond herself; the nooks and dips of Kevlar and panels, where the humming heat of his chest loses its influence on limbs and where she can best rest her head to hear the mockery of a heart in the tick of machinery. His fingers twitch and she feels the cold chrome brush against her own, dangerously close to threading through the space between.

“Well,” she begins with a too-honeyed croon and a sharp clap of golden hands, brooking the ire of the once lovelorn couple only plucked from their destined decades of moping and pining by her own generously bleeding heart, “not that I’m not enthralled and entirely endeared to this delightful little…reunion. We do have business to attend.” The easy sort of business, guns and guts. In truth it’s the sort she could just leave them behind for and not lose anything of worth; Adam is more than enough in that regards.

In others as well, though she doesn’t care to consider them – not now in too public a space with eyes and ears as sharp as her own. And not while he stands so close, the crisp cold air of the night and her lines of reason undone entirely by his mere presence. No, those thoughts are for later, in the privacy of her own overpriced hotel room while soaking in a warm bath with a glass of wine for company.

But they make to argue, a shared look of glowing eyes as they speak privately over internal comms, a bob of an adam’s apple and the working of a jaw to shape the words that might pry some more precious seconds together instead of doing what they’re here to do, and she lathers her tongue with a thinly-veiled threat in turn.

“Leave them to it.” Her tongue presses flat against the roof of her mouth at the mechanical words, distorted with a thin layer of static – his vocaliser needs replaced again, or tuned at the very least. Another note added to her list as she just barely turns to regard him and he just barely looks down to do the same.

[thisuserdead]

The Minyard-Josten rivalry as seen through the media ~ part 1 of ???

----

*A Foxes vs Trojans game is playing on a wall screen in a TV studio. Two commentators are sat on bar stools in front of a desk. A buzzer signaling the end of the game echoes through the speakers*

Commentator 1: And there you have it people! The Foxes win the last game of the spring championship, yet again. This time with a 4 point margin against the USC Trojans.

Commentator 2: Very exciting, very exciting indeed! Palmetto has had a series of exceptional seasons these past few years. I think everyone has forgotten what they used to be like before the start of their winning streak.

Comm. 1: Indeed! People were a bit apprehensive at the start of this season however. As a reminder to our audience, this was the first season in the last five years that the Foxes have played with only one of the players from the "original" lineup from the Foxes' golden year.

Comm. 2: Fans weren't sure if the team was going to pull through. But, it seems like their captain - starting striker Neil Josten - was able to push the team to its full potential this season.

Comm. 1: It's also Josten's very last season with the Foxes. Rumor has it, he's already gotten several offers from pro teams all over the country. We'll have to wait and see who he decides to sign off with.

Comm. 2: It looks like the team is just as excited about the win as we are. Let's replay the moment right after the buzzer while the players shake hands.

*A split wall screen shows the players of both teams lining up for the final handshake on the right side while the left side shows the Foxes huddling around a very tired but happy looking Neil. It almost looks like he's being raised off the ground with the force of their joy.*

Comm. 2: Well, that's it for now folks! Stick around for the after game interviews. We'll be back in just a couple of minutes.

*Transmission is interrupted by clips and highlights from the game.*

-----

*Youtube video buffers before the noise of a crowded make-shift conference room starts. The camera is pointed at a long table with two orange clad athletes and their coach seated behind it.*

Wymack: Alright everyone, on with the questions!

Reporter 1: To Neil Josten, with you leaving there will be an open spot for captain, has it already been decided who is going to fill it?

Neil: Our current fourth-year-senior vice captain has already been selected to step up into the captain position.

Robin: As for the newly-opened vice captain position, that one will be filled by yours truly!

Neil: *nods, visibly proud*

Reporter 2: Neil, how did you manage to keep the team together now that there's a whole new generation of foxes?

Neil: Well, I have Dan to thank for lending me her infinite wisdom...and Kevin for his very public monday morning calls where he tells the team everything they did wrong during friday's game.

Robin: He is very motivational. Makes you want to do the exact opposite of what he says.

Wymack: *undefined grumbling*

*The reporters go through some more questions about the future of the Foxes. Most are answered by Robin or Wymack. For once Neil looks like he's content to just sit back and listen.

The last question of the night however is veered back to Neil.*

Reporter n: Neil, what was it like playing a whole season without Andrew Minyard? You two seemed close by all accounts.

Neil: *after a moment, a mischievious grin on his face* Who?

Robin: HAH

Reporter n: *caught off guard* uhh, your former teammate-

Neil: Hmm, does not ring any bells. Well- *cuts the reporters off from further prying* looks like out time is up.

*The three people sitting behind the table get up and walk towards their respective locker rooms and to the lounge in Wymack's case.

Video stops.*

Video Description: Neil Josten, Robin Cross and Coach David Wymack answer burning questions at the post-game conference

Date: XX/XX/XXXX

358 493 views

Comments:

@ exyneilno1fanxxx: great game! And even better interview. Can't wait to see who Neil signs with!!! xx <3

@ wildinwithdan: Always great to see my fave get mentioned!

@ kevsqueen22: is this the start of a minyard-josten rivalry? *thinking face on* See other 3k replies @ jostyard103: @ kevsqueen22 I'm calling it now, they're in a super secret relationship

-----

Note: Thanks for reading! TBC when I can, I'm thinking of possibly making this multimedial.

[akihabara-division03]

This mess mainly started with me. I didn’t plan to make this public, but I have just about had it and my patience is running thin.

On June 20th, Kumamoto’s admin had reached out to me to make birthday art for their OC, Aoba. I, in all my excitement, ignored all red flags and got started with the consultation and begun the drawing process straight away.

That is where I am at fault and most certainly could have avoided this entire situation entirely.

The process had felt oddly demanding despite the lack of responses, the image below being one of few examples.

I was of the understanding that there was a language barrier between us and let it slide, although these sort of interactions had been very hurtful. On top of that, two alterations to the artpiece were requested (the first borderline demanded, the second being more polite) when things should have been settled during the consultation, and not during the process.

They received the final artpiece on July 15th immediately upon completion. That was the moment they brought up an issue with their preferred method of payment.

This back and forth of me reminding them to pay and then only responding when I brought it to their attention continued for the next three days with nothing being done. I would catch them talking in the discord server we were both a part of at the time, they even dared to bring up Aoba’s birthday while I was being kept waiting.

Images below show the time stamp between private DMs and the group server. I implore readers to take a close look at the times and the dates which are recorded in [month/date/year]

I’ve stopped reaching out to them on July 17th to give them some space to figure out on their own despite the fact that they had several weeks while I worked on the art to get things sorted out.

Fast forward to July 21st, I reached out to them yet again. Only then had they been more apologetic and better well-mannered.

It was then that I realized that I made a major error of not realizing sooner that this particular client, who also once had full access to the 18+ areas inn our shared discord server, participated in NSFW week when it was made clear that minors were to not interact, and sought after adult OC's, was a minor this whole time. They have made several other admins uncomfortable with their antics, and to find out about this information now, it is unacceptable. I'm only lucky to have not blindly reported them prior to learning about this fact, seeing as this could've gone south.

I had hoped to keep this a private matter and to settle it on my own. However, knowing how this small mess ended up affecting other wonderful people in this community, I'm coming forward with the truth. I will still settle this matter quietly, seeing as this was my own issue to begin with.

Regardless if this admin is a minor and is low on options, they must be held accountable for their actions. It is no different than a dine-and-dash. I have been extremely generous in extending their deadline date to send in final payments multiple times now. However, seeing Aoba's birthday event carry on while I've been cheated out of several weeks' worth of work is the final straw.

If any other comm artists comes across this, please do not follow in my footsteps. Take proper precautions, no matter who your client is.

If you've made it this far in reading, thank you so much for hearing me out and I sincerely hope this doesn't happy to anybody else. Have a good day, afternoon, evening, or night, people of the internet. This has been Zephyrine Willburn, admin of Akihabara Division (Pixel Syndicate) and Minato Division (R.I.P Märchen).

Side note: even through all this, everyone may have their own opinion. But don’t go and harass Kumamoto’s admin directly. Leave them be and do not engage. Thank you.

ATTENTION!

Hello everyone, I have some rather unfortunate news regarding the server, don't worry I'm not deleting it but I am going get rid of the invite link on the masterlist (not that it matters since it's most likely expired by now).

I'm sure you all have questions as to why and the reason is that we've recently had a troubling encounter with a minor (who you all may know as Kumamoto Division) that was lying about their age and was in our 18+ section. I will take partial responsibility since I did not put up the proper precautions nor did I push for them to reveal their age (which they most likely would've lied about again).

Again, I would like to take responsibility for my part of the incident as server owner and apologize, I intend to correct this mistake by officially declaring the Hypnosis Microphone OC Community Discord Server as an 18 AND OVER SERVER WHICH MEANS THAT MINORS SHOULD NOT JOIN UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, THIS IS AN ADULT SERVER FILLED WITH ADULTS. MINORS AND PEOPLE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE ARE NOT ALLOWED AND WILL BE REPORTED AND BANNED WITH NO QUESTION SHOULD THEY GET CAUGHT LYING ABOUT THEIR AGE. (Looking at you Kumamoto).

Another thing I would like to note, since I am removing the invite link from my masterlist, that does not mean that those interested (and are over 18) cannot join the server. All you have to do is DM me saying that you want to join, the only REQUIREMENT we have is that YOU ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18 PLEASE.

I believe that's all I want to say, while I am disappointed that a situation like this has happened in our beloved community, I am glad to have been acknowledged so that I can make sure nothing like this can happen in the future.

Thank you for understanding.

- Renata (Sai)