#I mean I already use the block button pretty liberally

[theredqueenandthebloodwyrm]

Just saw a post about the X-Men by your usual bigoted dumbass with like 300 people agreeing with that bigoted sentiment. I kinda wanna scream. Checked out their blog and was like I was already gonna block you for that shit take to begin with but the racism, transphobia, and who knows what else you got going on there, really sealed the deal.

[foldingfittedsheets]

So this is dumb but I'm having a bad day anyway so you probs won't think I'm any dumber than I already feel.

Your comics are great. I can't make art or music or anything particularly well, and I can't express the amount of envy I have for the ability to make and do things just cos like you had an idea or felt like a thing and has the skills to expand on it or create a world around it...let alone making it so GOOD.

Like even beyond the stupidity of complaining about how exactly the silver platter is shaped, on which you are providing original ideas and reworked ideas and creativity and storytelling and art for everyone who'd like to enjoy.

People don't get to make demands of your art, we are privileged to enjoy it or, if not, to move on. We don't get to tell you how to make it, or what to make it of, or how to present it, or frame it, or if it needs to have a moral or an overarching meaning, or just being pretty because you liked it and felt like sharing it.

And I? I just go to work and do a job and doomscroll my way through life contributing not much, and get to pretend I'm a patron of the arts by throwing the price of a coffee into Kofi because you made beautiful heartwarming things I got to see.

I think your anon might have thought they were being helpful, but I don't think you should feel bad for liberal use of the block button and/or telling them to fuck off

Thank you for the nice words.

I do think you’re undervaluing yourself, here though. It makes a huge difference to me when people drop money in my tip jar, aside from the fact that there’s probably people who love and enjoy your company. People don’t need to make art to matter.

I’m sorry yesterday was bad. Mine was rough too. But I hope today is better.

[bayetea]

Frequently Asked Questions!

Before sending an ask, you might find some answers to your questions here! 

May I use your art as a profile picture?

Yes! This is the only instance where I do not ask you to provide credit (although it is always very appreciated), because I understand that it can be awkward to add artist credits to your bios and such. 

May I repost your art on my other socials?

Please do not ever repost my art anywhere - that includes Pinterest, Twitter, TikTok, et cetera. If you do, I will consider it art theft. My art already has a home, and it’s this blog!

May I use your art in a video/fanfic/et cetera with credit? 

Please reach out to me on an individual basis about this!

Do you want to know when people are breaking your rules about using your art?

I think it is kind that people want to bring these things to my attention, and I am generally okay with it; however, I may not respond to every report that people send about these things, either because I am already aware of what happened, or because I have attempted to intervene before and there’s nothing more that I can do. 

I follow you, but I don’t want to see X. Can you tag it for me?

I am sorry, but I just have to say no. I have tried to commit to tagging specific things for specific people in the past, but to be completely honest, it makes my tumblr experience much more stressful when I have to worry about remembering what I've agreed to tag for others. I would feel awful if I forgot something and accidentally exposed someone to something that they really don’t want to see - so as a preventative measure, I’m just going to offer a blanket statement and say that I can’t. Your decision to follow me is then at your own risk!  Furthermore, as stated in my pinned, my blog is not specifically intended to be appropriate minors. 

That said, I do tag commonly triggering content - s*xual assault, g*n violence, s*icide, nsf/w, etc. I also tag fandom-specific content and ships!

Why am I blocked?

I'm pretty frivolous with the block button, but I also don’t block people for no reason at all. There’s no nice way to say this, but 9 times out of 10, it’s probably because you posted/reblogged something (if not multiple things) that I found annoying at best or bigoted at worst. This can range anywhere from character hate, hot takes that I found absurd, or some other behavior that I didn’t appreciate (the most common offenders are anti-black annabeth/leah jeffries people or artists/fancasters who whitewash poc characters). I also go out of my way to block people who are closely affiliated with people that I find unpleasant - you could have been one of them. I'm not going to verify that for you, though, because I probably don't remember who you are.

Don’t take it personally - I do not know you, I did not investigate you or your blog in depth, being annoying is not a crime, etc, etc, etc. I am just a stranger on the internet; you do not need to worry about my opinion of you. Most likely, your posts showed up in my feed or in a tag one way or another, it bothered me, and I decided that I don’t want to see posts from you again. I block people liberally because I like to cultivate my tumblr experience to be as comfortable for me as possible. That said, do not ask me for an unblock. 

When will you update X fanfic?

If I have not explicitly stated that it is discontinued, you can send an ask and I will try to give you a solid estimate!! But thank you for being interested in my work, it means the world <3 

Do you take requests?

Unfortunately, I do not! This goes for both artwork and fanfiction - I can be pretty selfish, I only like to draw/write the things that I really want to </3 

Do you take art commissions?

I am so so flattered but no, I am not even close to being as good at art as I’d like to be in order to take commissions, and even then, it’s just very hard to imagine myself taking payment for my art. It’s just a hobby for me!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man in his Castle

Warnings: noncon sex. Let’s not be fools here. You know what I write.

This is dark!Charles Blackwood and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A co-ed discovers that money is still king.

Note: Charles is fun because he’s already horrible. I know my summary sucks but I hope you all enjoy this. It takes place in the 1960s so keep that in mind and enjoy! But let me know what you think in reblog or reply and slap a like on there <3

There were more than a dozen girls squeezed into the windowless classroom in the basement of Victory Hall. The book club had grown quite a bit since your first week on campus. The Brownies, you called yourself. An ironic play upon a lifetime of ridicule.

Every Friday night you met in some abandoned room bartered off the registrar and set to discussing your most recent read. Sheila was the leader; bolder than you as she fostered your sprout of an idea. She was cooler, calmer, and by all means, more radical. And she was a senior.

The flock of freshmen looked up to her and the few other older girls in the group. She had brought along with her, Linda and Patty; the former with her stiff turtlenecks and the latter her faded beret. These were the types your mother had warned you against. Peddling their liberalism in the name of Kennedy and Kruschev.

That week, your group had chosen Miller’s famed play, The Crucible; still relevant despite a decade past. Though the red scare had faded to orange, there was still a breath of suspicion in the air. As people marched in the streets and sat-in at diners and cafes, the old breed was growing nervous. The world was about to change, with or without them.

You sat amid the circle with your worn copy against your knee. You took turns reading the lines and pausing to discuss the intricate and yet overt allusions made by the playwright. The furor of the blacklist which still lingered in the air. A paranoia much broader than years before. No longer just the Reds, but all who spoke of equality and freedom; no longer exclusive to a single group. The same tensions which kept you in the basement with the dingy old desks.

You couldn’t help but smile at the group of girls. When you’d arrived on campus, you were certain you’d be the same loner as before. Solitary nights spent barricaded in your dorm only to lose yourself in the crowd of the lecture hall. 

But Sheila had changed that. She was in your elective Lit class, filling a void in her audit so that she could graduate on time. You had lost yourself in a discussion of Marx and the mounting tensions with the East; not that they ever really subsided. 

Then she invited you to meet Linda and Patty for a drink. Your lack of ID didn’t keep you from the chance to make friends as she knew the doorman by name. That was when you mentioned the club. It was just you and your friend, Elsie. Not really a club, more so a pair of girls with nothing better to do. But Sheila liked it and the next week, she had six new girls to add to your duo.

Now, you were a full blown corps. The three seniors and at least fifteen freshmen, a few in between to fill out the circle. 

Sheila snapped her book shut and declared the end of the night as she checked her watch. 

“We’ll finish next week,” She chimed. “Granted we don’t devolve so easily again.”

The girls giggled and began to pack up. You stood and shoved your book into your leather bag. Sheila stood with Linda at the back of the circle and Patty offered a goodbye to each girl as they left. Most did so in pairs or trios. Safety in numbers.

Your dorm wasn’t far and so you would keep a brisk pace with your keys in hand. You turned and Sheila called to you before you could reach the door. You spun back and neared her and Linda.

“Hey, you need a walking partner?” She asked. “Me and Linda are head down the The Cask. We’ll be headed past yours.”

“If you’re headed that way,” You accepted eagerly.

You helped rearrange the chairs and desk with the three seniors. Patty left on her own as Sheila locked the door. You walked on her right as Linda kept to her left and made your way out of the depths of Victory Hall. The night was cool but not bitter. You pulled your collar up as you passed between the carefully trimmed hedges.

“You sure you don’t want to come for a drink?” Linda asked. “Seeing as Patty ditched us.”

“Oh, you know she has that boy waiting for her,” Sheila countered.

“Um, no, I have an early morning,” You replied. “But thanks.”

“What about next weekend?” Sheila asked.

“Next weekend?” You wondered.

“Wanna come to a party?”

“A… a senior party?” You glanced over at her as you tucked your hands in your pockets.

“Oh, no, it’s not on campus,” She trilled. “But I think you’d like it.”

“Off-campus?” You said surprised. “Really?”

“A bit of an older crowd but…” She lowered her voice, “Of a similar mind as us.”

Your eyes widened. You blinked at her and she laughed.

“Oh calm down, they’re no interlopers, merely open-minded,” She assured you. “You have to realize that this little club, that’s a children’s game. If you’re serious, these are the people you need to rub shoulders with.”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty seedy downtown and the last time--”

“Downtown?” She scoffed. “Oh, this is different from that hole in the wall.”

“Where--”

“Uptown, actually,” She preened. “You know, we do have allies with money. They hide among the enemy until we can truly act.”

“I don’t know. That sounds--”

“You worry too much. It’s not illegal to meet people who think like you do,” She said. “Otherwise us Brownies would be akin to the mob.”

You laughed at yourself and watched your scuffed shoes on the sidewalk. “I guess you’re right. Um, what kind of party is it, exactly?”

“Wear something nice,” She picked a thread from your jacket. “Fancy dress hides a humble heart.”

You nodded and gripped the strap of your bag. “Sure, why not?” You shrugged.

“I’ll see you in Lit,” She stopped just outside your gate. “I’ll give you the details then. You should ask Elsie to come with you.”

“Alright,” You breathed. “Yeah, I’ll ask her.”

“Have a good night,” She sang and Linda echoed her. 

“You, too.” You smiled.

You turned and unlocked your gate as their heels continued down the pavement. You let yourself inside and listened until there was silence. You were happy to have friends, happier that you were so much alike, but the thought of a party had your stomach aflutter.

🏰

You found your only formal dress. Rather, your most formal dress. A long-sleeved black number that flared at the knee. You wore the simple silver chain your mother gifted you for your high school graduation and a pair of kitten heels. You hugged yourself with a red shawl and grabbed your purse.

Elsie waited just outside your dorm room. She looked as nervous as you felt. The lack of details gave both of you the jitters. You were two shy girls who found each other among the sea of students. You took comfort in knowing you weren’t the only one in over your head.

And Sheila would be there too. She could help you maneuver your way through this maze of etiquette and idealism.

You took a bus as far as you could but at the last stop, you were still three blocks away from the place. Blackwood Manor. Sheila’s loopy cursive marked it on the corner of paper. The house on the hill, she said, can’t miss it.

The gates towered over you as you approached. Tinted lanterns lit the walkway and you pressed the button over the small speaker box. A dull voice greeted you from the other side.

“Um, hello,” Elsie squeezed your arm as you bent to speak into the box. “We’re here for the party.”

“Par-ty?” The voice said.

“We’re friends of, uh, Sheila.” You replied nervously.

“Ah, yes, Miss Sheila.” The crackle died and the gate clicked. 

You looked to Elsie and a man in grey neared from the other side. He pulled open the gate and removed his cap as he waited for you to enter. A car drove up, its bright headlights washed over you, as you walked up the drive and the gates man spoke with its occupants.

At the front door, you met with a man with grey hair and the same even tone that rose from the speaker. He took your shawl and Elsie’s coat and directed you to the next room. You detached Elsie from your arm and gave her a look. She smiled tensely and smoothed the front of her dress.

The sparkle of the chandelier drew your eyes first. The light refracted from the crystals and illuminated the large room. Men in suits stood around with drinks in hand and chattered. You heard the next guests enter behind you and stepped out of their way.

You spotted Sheila in the far corner, a broad pair of shoulders left her barely visible. There were several other girls you recognized; Linda. Darla and Colleen, two other Brownies, and even a couple girls from your Lit class. Every women in the room was barely that; they were all bright-eyed co-eds amid a conclave of stiff-lipped men.

You felt a chill crawl up your spine but resisted the shiver. You were just anxious about all these strangers. It was natural to be a little nervous.

Elsie followed you across the room and smiled at Sheila over the shoulder of the man she spoke to. She waved you over and the man turned to look at you. His blue eyes flicked from you to Elsie and back again. His expression was placid as he buttoned his jacket.

“Charles, these are my friends,” She introduced you and Elsie, “And this is Charles Blackwood, our host.”

He seemed to recall himself and shook your hand and then Elsie’s. His grip was firm and his expression unbreakable. He was entirely unimpressed by you and your plain black dress.

“You have a beautiful house,” You offered. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere so… grand.”

“It was my grandfather’s,” He said tersely as his eyes explored the room. “Sheila, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak with Gerald.”

“Of course,” She kissed his cheek and his lip curled before he walked away. “Sorry about him,” Sheila turned to you. “He’s a bit antsy, you know? Always is on nights like these.”

“I never…” You looked at Elsie as her eyes bounced around in wonder, “I never would think anyone who lived like this would you know, agree with us.”

“Oh, but we already know money isn’t everything,” She said. “You know, these men, they know that and they want to use their money for good. They want to make sure that students like us make it through college and go on to speak our truth to the world.”

She stopped a man passing by and took a wine glass from his tray. She offered you it and grabbed another for Elsie and herself. She batted her lashes at the waiter and returned her attention to you.

“Which is why you should loosen up and talk to some of these men,” She advised. “They are much preferable to the boys on campus and much more powerful. My second year, I had my tuition paid in full by one of Charles’ friends.”

“Wow,” Elsie gasped. “Really?”

“Consider it a grant,” Sheila explained. “Spread the wealth, right?”

“I suppose…” You uttered.

“Oh, there’s Patty,” Sheila perked up. “I knew she’d be the last one here. Pardon me a moment.”

“Alright,” You turned and watched her go as she waved over the heads to her friend. 

You brought the glass to your lips and the alcohol burned your nostrils. Your stomach turned and you lowered the flute. Elsie drank deeply as you glanced around. A man with thick silver hair and a sharp aquiline nose stared at you from across the room.

You fidgeted and slipped behind Elsie to set your glass down.

“You should take it easy,” You warned her as she gulped down the wine. 

🏰

The man with silver hair introduced himself as Harry. You weren’t fond of him as he talked of his new car and something about a cottage up north. You were confused. Sheila intimated that these people were like you; maybe not communists are heart, but left-leaning at least. They surely didn’t sound like it.

You glanced around for the umpteenth time and frowned. You didn’t see Sheila or Linda or Patty. Elsie was with a man in a striped suit, Darla and Colleen sipped from glasses as they listened to a pair of men banter, and you were stuck in the corner with this grey-haired boor.

You excused yourself, claiming to need the powder room, and walked along the wall as you searched the room. The seniors were gone. And something else caught your eye. The men drank from their stout tumblers and the women, more aptly girls, all held champagne flute. Yours was still on the table, untouched.

You neared Elsie and excused your interruption as you turned her away from her companion. You lowered your voice.

“Have you seen Sheila?” You asked.

She shook her head and wobbled. She giggled as she steadied herself with your arm. “Nope!”

“How much of that have you had?” You took her glass from her.

“This is only my…. Third,” She counted on her fingers.

“Well, I think three is enough,” You said. “Why don’t you come to the restroom with me? Splash some water on your face?”

“No, no,” She shrugged you off. “I’m talking to Gerald.” She turned back and smiled at the balding man. “He has a fellowship.”

“Elsie,” You drew her back. “Something’s… wrong.”

“What do you mean?” She hiccuped. “It’s all quite fine, isn’t it?”

“Just…” You peeked over your shoulder. “Wait here for me, okay? Don’t go anywhere else.”

She rolled her eyes and you sighed. You left her reluctantly and stopped a waiter as you neared the main archway. You asked him where the restroom was and ducked into the hallway. You passed by the foot of the staircase towards the next and paused. 

You peered around the wall and pulled back. You slipped off your heels and looked back at the room that swirled with voices. You tiptoed to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. You searched for a mechanism but there was only the intricately wrought handle. 

You went back to the stairs and listened to the buzz from the front room. You climbed a step at a time as your ears perked up at every creak and crack. You wondered what had happened to Sheila and the others. It was unlike them to leave early. And why was the door locked?

You found a window and carefully turned the latch. You shifted it up and cringed as the wood loudly rubbed together. You stuck your head out and stared down at the grass below. There was a tree not far from you, a few windows away.

“Can I help you?” The voice frightened you and you hit your head on the window as you reeled back. You turned to your host, Charles, as he leaned against the bannister.

“I was… looking for Sheila.” You lied.

“Oh, outside?” He wondered with a smirk.

“Well, no, I just needed a breath of fresh air so I thought…” Your voice trailed off as he stood straight.

“The party’s downstairs,” He said evenly. “I’m sure you just missed her.”

You stared at him. His eyes sparkled with mischief. Your heart dropped and your heels threatened to slip from your sweaty hand.

“She’s gone,” You said. His lips curved again and he chuckled. “What’s going on here?”

He inched forward as he pushed back his jacket and shoved a hand in his pocket.

“She did her job. Delivered what she promised.” He said coolly. “Can you blame her for cutting out?”

“What--” You backed up until you were against the window ledge. “I don’t understand.”

“You tried the front door, didn’t you?” 

You blinked and your shoes fell from your grasp.

“You think you can get to that tree? Even if you moved a few windows to the left?” He got closer. “Or maybe… you think you can get past me.”

Your lips parted as his features hardened. His brow twitched as he held your gaze. He didn’t look away as he knelt and grabbed your shoe. He took your foot and shoved the kitten heel on. He did the other and stood.

“Let’s go back to the party,” He growled. “It’s only just getting started.”

🏰

You stood against the wall as the room spun. Your chest was filled with doom as you looked around at the girls in their sheath dresses and chunky heels. Many shared the same glazed look as Elsie. They swayed just a little, giggled airily, and their eyelashes drooped. They were barely awake on their feet.

The man who answered the door stood beside you. He squinted at you every now and then. Charles had told him to keep an eye on you. You watched the host of the event disappear through another doorway. You thought of the invisible lock and the tree just a few windows down.

It was that crushing sense of defeat when you knew loss was imminent but unavoidable. So you watched it slowly creep forward until finally you had to submit. You shivered and shook your head at yourself. Sheila had done this. Ensnared all these girls in whatever sick game this was.

Time dragged. You watched the servers offer their tainted champagne and the girls all too ignorant to realize that something was amiss. Your eyes stung and you gripped your purse tight. Whatever was planned, it couldn’t be good.

The clinking of metal on glass silenced the room. Your eyes were drawn with every other to the other side. The men exchanged knowing looks. The girls were confused but not suspicious. They looked to Charles as he relinquished the glass and knife to a server. He grinned at his rapt audience.

“Shall we commence with our evening?” He asked; the men nodded and mumbled in agreement. The girls frowned and wavered on their feet. “Very well. Girls…”

He waved an arm to his left and the waiters, now free of their trays, dispersed to herd the girls to the other side of the room. You were led along with them and stood in the row of drunken co-eds. For a moment, you wished you had drank the wine. That you could be as oblivious as the rest.

The girl at the head of the line was ushered forward to stand beside Charles. Her red hair hung in ringlets and her cheeks were rosy with alcohol. He asked her her name and she slurred “Carrie.” He repeated it for all to hear and shouted a number. Ten thousand.

A man raised his hand and Charles called eleven thousand. Another gestured and the number went up again. Again. Again. Carrie was visibly confused as she tried to keep up. She couldn’t. She was sold for twenty-five thousand and ushered into the arms of her buyer.

Elsie was next. She could barely stand as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Eighteen thousand for the mousy-haired girl. Colleen went for about the same and Darla was in tears as she was bartered for an even twenty. 

You were near the end of the line. You marched up to the front and bit down as you stared at the bourgeois bastards. Harry was the first to bid for you. Your stomach flipped. Then another man you hadn’t even spoken to. You could see only his hand as he reached above the crowd. 

The bids bounced back and forth, Harry cursed as he wondered who was so determined to have you. You sold for forty thousand to the faceless man. You were shown out the side door by a waiter as the last girl was brought up to stand by Charles. 

You stood alone in a long dining room with a large table and more than a dozen chairs. You turned as the doors slid closed and faced the grey-haired man who had greeted you in his monotone at the door. You thought he was the help. You grimaced at him.

“You?” You sputtered.

“No,” He said blandly. “Not me.”

“Then…” You couldn’t finish as you were certain you knew the answer.

You swallowed and spun away from him. You gripped the back of a chair and placed your purse on the table. The furor from the other room reached a peak and then began to dwindle. The grey-haired man glanced at the doors.

“I must attend to the coats,” He announced. “Do not stray. He will be mad.”

You sighed as he slipped through the door. A hand kept them from closing and you watched the doorman rush away. Charles stepped through and shut the doors. He took a breath as he turned to you. He fixed his lapels as he stopped across the table from you. 

“What?” You hissed as he stared at you.

“No… thanks?” He asked.

“Thanks?” You narrowed your eyes. “For what?”

“Don’t tell me you wanted to fuck one of those old men?”

You blanched at his language and your lip curled in revulsion. He laughed.

“Don’t worry. I only need… a maid.” He smirked.

“A maid?” You wondered.

“Cooking. Cleaning.” He tapped two fingers on the table as he spoke. “They ever write about that in your books?”

Your eyes were glossy as you gulped. You were furious, frightened, and frustrated.

“You girls think you know it all,” He scoffed. “There’s a lot they don’t put in books.”

“No, there are horror stories,” You assured him. “Of repulsive monsters and their nasty ways.”

He chuckled and rounded the table. He stopped just beside you as his hand closed over your purse. He slowly lifted the strap from your shoulders and batted your hand away before you could stop him.

“Trust me,” He said as he flipped it open and looked inside. “There is no monster like me.”

🏰

You were shown to a room with a barred window. It didn’t matter as it was in the basement and so narrow that you couldn’t hope to fit through it. The door was locked but even so, there was a man without. You could see his shadow under the door and hear him cough every now and again.

You didn’t sleep much. There was a blanket on the floor beside some dusty boxes. You sat against the wall and dozed in spurts. The night replayed in your head on a loop. Then all those moments you’d spent with Sheila. How she had lied so easily. Was she even a student? 

Didn’t matter now. The sun rose slowly through the small window and the door opened shortly after. You were given a black dress, stockings, and a pair of black shoes. Nothing else. You were taken to a shower hidden in the cellar; the water was cold and you washed quickly in the closet-like restroom.

You dressed and contemplated turning your underwear inside out. They were too worn to re-use. You left them with the rest of your clothes and emerged in your uniform. The man in black who had spent his night outside your door was mute. You weren’t sure entirely if by choice.

Your first task was to clean the main room, still dirtied from the party. The grey-haired man, Albert, told you so and recited your list of chores. The kitchen would be next and then you were to sweep the upstairs corridors and check every room in case it needed dusting or new linens.

It took you hours to tidy up after the previous nights’ guests. When the glasses were cleaned, you stacked them in the cupboards and wiped the counters. Alone, you went to the back door. It was locked too. The windows on this floor only opened two inches. You cursed.

You climbed the stairs with a broom and pan and set to the endless tedium of sweeping every corner. That took another hour, if not more. You emptied the pan downstairs in the bin and returned with a duster. 

You knocked on each door before you entered. Most were pristine and required only a touch up. When you reached the end of the next hallway, your rap was answered as the door opened from the other side. 

Charles wore only an undershirt and pants as he looked you up and down. He waved you in wordlessly. You entered and set to dusting the mantle and all its ornaments. He moved around behind you and stopped in a doorway just left of the bed.

“I expect you to do more than dust in here,” He said. “Grab some fresh linen when you get the chance.”

He slipped through the door but left it open an inch. You huffed and continued on lazily. Call it spite or your fleeting mind. You tried the window. It opened but there was no way down. You closed it and turned away.

You went to find the sheets and when you had discovered the trove of pressed and folded cotton, you returned to the room. You could hear the soft ripple of water through the small doorway. You set the sheets down at the foot of the bed. You cleared the wrinkled clothing from the chair and dropped them in the hamper.

“Girl,” Charles’ deep timbre called sternly. “Girl.”

Your cheek twitched. He knew your name. You sneered and quickly wiped it away as you neared the door. You pushed it open hesitantly as you peered through.

“Towel,” He demanded.

He sat in the deep tub, his dark hair damp and his broad chest bare above the water. You tore your eyes away and grabbed the towel from its rack. As you faced him, he stood and the water dripped down his body shamelessly. You unfolded the towel and held it up so that you could not see all of him.

“Well,” He waved you closer and snatched it from you. 

He stepped out onto the bathmat and fanned the towel around his body. You looked away quickly and a soft chuckle escaped him as he secured the towel at his waist. He passed you, his wet arm touched your sleeve and he neared the mirror as he admired his freshly shaved face.

“Did you make the bed?” He asked.

You shook your head and turned to return to the bedroom.

“Wait,” He stopped you. “That’s ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’.”

“No, sir,” You said bitterly. 

“Then you better get to it,” He rebuffed.

You swept through and moved the new sheets to the chair before you stripped the mattress. He leaned in the doorway as he watched you. You could feel him as you moved around the bed and stretched the cotton over the corners. You spread out the top sheet and replaced the quilt over top. You changed the pillowcases and fluffed them. 

Done, you bundled up the old bedding in your arm. He went to the bed and dragged his fingers along the quilt. He grasped the blankets and tore them from the mattress. 

“Tuck in the edges,” He said. “Now, fix your mistake.”

“Yes,” You gritted. “Sir.”

You dropped the old sheets in the chair once more and set to redoing your work. He stood at the foot of the bed and when you slipped past him, you felt a brush across your ass. You ignored it, content to think it was natural friction, and carried on. You could feel the heat of his gaze upon you and as you faced him, it was confirmed.

“Very nice,” He commented. “You learn… quickly.”

“Quicker than the others?” You asked. “Huh? How many have you bought? What did you do to them?”

“Oh, you’re mistaken,” He said. “I’m not a buyer, I’m a seller… but well, I decided to indulge myself last night.”

Your mouth was dry. You turned and grabbed the linen again. As you backed up, you were stopped by a figure behind you. His arm stretched out around you and he held his towel out. Slowly, he released it and it flapped to the floor.

“You don’t learn that quick though,” He mused as his hand settled on your shoulder. “You think I would spend that much money on a maid.” His fingers crawled along your neck. He gripped your jaw as he pressed himself against you. You felt the prod of his arousal through your skirt. “But it was fun to watch you try.”

“Why me?” You breathed as he gripped your arms and pulled them away from the laundry. The bundle fell to the chair and drooped down onto the floor.

“Because you’re the first to figure it out,” He answered. 

“Please,” You begged weakly as he pulled your arms back and rolled his hips so that he poked you.

“Get on the chair.” He ordered.

Your breath caught in your throat. You stood staring at the yellow wallpaper with its golden lilies. You turned slightly and he caught you. 

“No, don’t turn around.” His voice sent a shiver through you.

Your lip trembled and you lifted a knee, then the other. His hands ran up your arms and around your back. He shoved you so you caught yourself against the back of the chair. You tensed as his hands fell to your hips and over your ass.

He squeezed and stepped between your ankles so that his legs were against the seat. He ran his hands down your thighs and kneaded through the skirt. He reached the hem and slowly raised it an inch at a time. When it was higher than your stockings, your hand flew back to stop him.

He grabbed your wrist and twisted until you cried out.

“If you scream, there’s no one here who will care,” He snarled. “And they certainly won’t help you.”

He pushed your hand away and tore your skirt up over your ass. He slapped you so hard you yelped. You could feel the heat of his palm across your ass even after it was gone. He bunched your skirts around your waist and hummed in approval.

“You look nice in black,” He said, “Better out of it.”

You kept your eyes forward. You couldn’t have looked at him if you wanted. This man, this stranger, was touching you like no one had before. And he meant to do more. Because he owned you.

His hand snaked around your hip and down your pelvis. He tickled the hair there and slid lower. You tried to press your thighs together but your ankles hit his legs. He tutted and leaned against you.

“I’m being nice,” He warned. “I don’t have to be.”

You grabbed his hand and shoved it away. He struck your ass again as he stood straight. He grasped the back of your neck and pushed your head down against the back of the chair. Your fingers clutched at the cushion beside your face as he held you there.

“I told you last night,” He pinched your thigh. “I can be the worst fiend you’ve ever known.”

He pushed his knees up on the chair between yours. His fingers crawled around your hip again and along your pelvis. He pushed two down along your folds. He rubbed your bud with his middle finger as he spread your lips. He flicked and teased until your hips bucked.

“Not so bad…” He purred. “Am I?”

“Stop,” You begged as his grip tightened on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t just let you go,” He said. “That’d be a poor investment. Even you could see that.”

He dipped his finger inside of you and you inhaled sharply. He drew it in and out and added another. Your thighs shook and your fingers bent against the cushion.

“You don’t realize how fucking lucky you got,” He pushed his palm to your clit as he rocked his hand. “Those other men; old men, they’d fuck you for two seconds before they blew. Leave you there, unsatisfied, discarded. The girls never last long.”

He curled his fingers and moved his hand faster.

“The men get bored. Naturally, they’re greedy,” His nose tickled your ear as his breath glossed over your cheek. “Or maybe the girl gets pregnant. No good. Send her away. Don’t care where, just don’t want to hear about her ever again.” 

He nuzzled your hair as your breaths grew laboured. You found it hard to resist the heat that radiated from his touch. You shook as you tried to force the ripples back down.

“So, you keep me happy, girl,” He sneered. “And you might just last.”

You squealed as you came. You were ashamed and astounded. You’d never felt so… much. Never felt anything so deeply. You quivered around his hand and he slowly drew away and wiped his wet fingers on your bunched up skirt.

He reached between your thighs and you felt his length rub against your ass. He teased you and dragged his fingers along your ass. He pressed his tip to your skin and guided it down. He squeezed your neck and you whimpered. He pushed against your entrance and paused.

“You’re not…” He began and thrust inside of you all at once. “Well, it doesn’t really matter.”

Your walls ached as he filled you. The pain was nothing compared to relief that washed over you. You hadn’t realized how much you longed for that feeling. His hand slid from your neck and he gripped your shoulder. His other went to your hip and he rocked his hips.

You grunted as he thrust. You wanted it to end but you also didn’t want him to stop. He was relentless and impatient. You expected little else from the steely man. You quaked as his pelvis slapped against your ass. The noise echoed off the corners of the room, interspersed with his low groans and you pathetic mewls.

He moved your body against his as he plunged deeper and deeper. He sped up, driven by your helpless moans as you clawed at the upholstered chair. You wanted to get away as much as you just wanted to grab onto something steady. You turned your head back and forth as your nerves flared. You shook and gasped as you came again.

“St-st-stop,” You pleaded. “Stop. It’s too--”

He slammed into you so hard you shrieked. He didn’t let up as he crushed you against the back of the chair. He snaked his hand up in front of you and groped your tit as his other arm wrapped around your neck. His thick muscle choked you as he pounded into you and the chair creaked dangerously. You trembled as the ripples washed over you and you skin tingled with the heat of the man behind you.

His thrusts turned sharp and furious. His arm tightened around your neck as he pulled his other hand back. He pushed into as far as he could, holding himself there for just a second each time. His heavy breaths were like hungry growls in your ear.

He pulled out of you suddenly and you felt his knuckles against your ass as they moved frantically. A warmth spurted along your lower back and his hand slowed. 

He sighed and unhooked his arm from around your neck. He climbed off the chair and smacked your ass again. It stung so much you were certain there was already a bruise.

“Clean yourself up.” He demanded as he sat on the bed heavily. “Then take that damn dress off.”

[aquilamage]

“Court will adjourn for a thirty minute recess.”

Even with standing the moment the judge’s gavel sounded, Badd still had to wade through a crowd to get from his spot on the aisle of the first row of the gallery to the stairs outside. Fortunately, once out in the hall, the guards standing at the defendant lobby stepped aside to let him in without a word. The door clicked shut behind him, blocking out the murmur of the countless voices outside.

In contrast, this room was almost silent, save for Sebastian’s crying. He sat in the middle of the couch, curled up on himself, shaking with big gasping sobs.

To one side of him, Kay dropped another tissue in his lap. She looked up as Badd approached, gave him a smile that only reached as far as the corners of her mouth. “Hey.”

He nodded back at her. Then, he sat on the free end of the couch. It was impossible to tell if Sebastian genuinely hadn’t noticed his arrival or simply wasn’t responding, but either way it left Badd at a loss for what to do. He’d had a substantial amount of practice over the past few weeks, but it would have been much easier if he could simply hold him, like he does with Kay. At least that would be easy enough.

“Seb?” Kay waved her hand in front of where he could see. “I’m going to get you something to eat. Then I’ll be back, okay?” When he didn’t respond, she leaned forward slightly. “Okay?”

There was a long moment between, but he raised his head up enough to nod at her.

This time her smile had more substance to it.

He stared at the ground until the door closed again, and then a bit more, breathing still heavy but a little steadier. Slowly, he turned to look at Badd, blinking back tears. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say caught in his throat, and he pressed his hand over his mouth.

Shit, the kid was an absolute wreck right now. He’d been holding up remarkably well during the trial today, and maybe he should have been suspicious of that. If this was the cost, Badd wished he would’ve shown how upset he was sooner. Sebastian wrapped his arms around himself, hands grabbing at the fabric of his sleeves. It was strange seeing him out of his school uniform. The plain button-up made him look smaller, or that might have been in his posture.

Well, there was a thought. Badd sighed. “Here.” He slid the jacket off his shoulders and, watching Sebastian carefully for a reaction, draped it over him.

His expression didn’t change at first, but then he relaxed marginally, pulling the edges around himself like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

They lapsed into quiet again, Badd searching for something to say. The kid responded well to the right words, he’d seen that several times over with Edgeworth and Courtney. The key, though, was right, and most of the thoughts swirling around Badd’s head at that moment were of the sort about Debeste that he would not repeat to Sebastian under any circumstances, much less these. ……Yeah, maybe leave his father out of things completely for now. Find something else that could be reassuring and meaningful. Finally, he said, “You...did a good job in there.”

Immediately, Sebastian shook his head. “No I...I didn’t.” He wrapped his arms even tighter around his knees. “I kept messing up the words, and forgetting things, and,” he choked back a sob “and then I started crying. I was just a big idiot.”

It was technically true that Edgeworth had to talk him through parts of his testimony, with a few long pauses, but… “How many trials have you seen?”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you ever actually watched a trial, before?”

“Um,” he appeared to give it some genuine thought, wrinkling his brow. “I think when I was little with- with Pops, but…”

Badd nodded, then reached over to grab the box of tissues for him. “I’ve seen plenty. You’re far from the first witness to cry on the stand. Especially one who’s been directly affected...by the culprit. And you won’t be the last.”

“But what if I messed everything up?” In the absence of anything else to fidget with, he started to run his fingers along one of the buttons of the coat. “If I did something wrong, and that means he doesn’t get-” He bit his lip, tensing his whole face.

“Hey.” He put as much weight behind the word as he dared, trying to keep his voice soft. “Listen,” One hand went to a spot on the couch next to Sebastian, close as he dared. “You told the truth, right? And everything you remember?”

Eyes red and still liberally teary, he looked over, and finally nodded.

“Between Courtney, Shields, Gumshoe, and Kay, you have someone backing up...most of your testimony. And Edgeworth’s the one who has the responsibility of prosecuting. You trust them?”

Another nod.

“Then just keep doing that, and we’ll…” get him convicted was the first thing to spring to mind, and while it was true, it’s what they all want (and the bastard certainly deserved it), again, not the right thing to say now. “We’ll make sure everything turns out right.”

Sebastian managed a weak smile. Readjusting the jacket, he took a few slow breaths. “Can I-” the words were so quiet as to almost be inaudible.

“Hmm?”

He startled. “Never mind!”

“No, what is it?”

Frowning, he turned his head fully away from Badd before he spoke. “Can I lean against you?”

The hesitancy, and even the twinge of outright fear in his voice didn’t surprise him, but it did feel like a hand was squeezing at his chest. With claws. He shouldn’t have even had to ask. Badd nodded before remembering himself. “Yeah. Of course.”

Sebastian made a tiny high sound, a messy breath that certainly heralded more crying, but shifted over until his head was rested against Badd’s shoulder, tucking the rest of himself in to follow.

Neither sad anything after that. This time was a more comfortable quiet, though, without the expectation of do something weighing down on him. Despite his earlier worry, Sebastian was hardly crying at all, the rhythm of his breath even against his side. This was the kind of situation he was used to. Kid didn’t even run anywhere near as warm as Kay, which helped that he wasn’t immediately overheating.

Speaking of: Kay walked back in, arms full. She paused for an almost imperceptible moment upon seeing the two of them, but kept going. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got a little of everything.”

Badd raised an eyebrow at her. At a glance, he would guess that she’d ventured down to the cafeteria instead of relying solely on the vending machines, but even that wasn’t a cheap option.

She smiled and shrugged, and dumped all of it on the table. “Hey, help me move this over,” she said, already tugging on one end.

As he did, he gave her another look.

From her bag she produced a wallet, which she flipped open to show an id with Edgeworth’s picture on it. Grinning, she put it back. Once the table was in place, Kay immediately turned her attention to Sebastian, scooting everything into his reach. “Help yourself.”

Blowing his nose one more time, Sebastian nodded. He accepted a water bottle, opening it to take a long drink before starting to go through the food.

They ate in relative silence. The food wasn’t bad – mostly packaged, but the sandwiches were fresh, even if they did taste and feel of having been in the fridge overnight. Sebastian had initially sat back on the middle cushion, pulling himself in to touch the others as little as possible. Until Badd murmured “I don’t mind...if you want to sit like before.” Then he carefully leaned against Badd again, angled better for eating. It was nice. Peaceful enough that you could almost forget where they were. He could only hope it was the same for the other two.

As he balled up his food wrappers, Badd checked the time. “Six minutes.” Beside him, Sebastian started to tense.

With a loud crackle of plastic, Kay tore open a packet of Swiss rolls. Carefully, she extracted one and held the second one out, wrapping-first, toward Sebastian. “I know today’s been hard, but we’re here for you, okay?”

Sebastian managed a smile, although his eyes had started to water. “Okay.” Then, smaller, as he took it, “thank you.”

Huh. Unless they’d had a conversation Badd didn’t know about, he wouldn’t have understood the full meaning behind Kay’s gesture. Not that it mattered. Her sentiment had still been made perfectly clear.

And as she broke the remaining Swiss roll in half and handed one piece to Badd, he realized it wasn’t meant only for Sebastian. He reached over the back of the couch and ruffled her hair, and she smiled.

By the time they finished eating, it was just about time for the trial to start. Kay swept the rest of the food into her bag, except for a full water bottle that she handed to Sebastian. “Mr. Edgeworth is pretty sure you won’t need to testify any more, so if you’d rather not sit down here again, you can go up in the gallery with Badd.”

(He remembered before the trial yesterday, when they’d mentioned that Sebastian could stay out of the courtroom when he wasn’t specifically needed. He’d never seen anyone yell that emphatically while crying before.)

“No.” He stood to his full height, a single tear rolling down his face. “I want to be there. It- It feels right.”

She nodded, and held her arm out for him.

Just as they got to the door, though, Sebastian skidded to a halt. “Oh! This is yours.” He reached to pull off the jacket that was still on his shoulders.

“Keep it on. If it makes you comfortable.” For a couple hours, he wouldn’t miss it, and he already suspected that something about the extra weight was comforting to the kid. Among other things.

He stared, wide-eyed. And then slowly, he pulled the jacket back securely into place, smiling.

“You’ll be fine, Sebastian. See you...in a bit.” With that, Badd left the two of them to head back into the trial.

[kiunlo]

it's funny how when I see a post here on tumblr that's pretty good, and when I go to the notes and I see some people being absolute cunts/bigots etc....it's literally the same fucking people. All the time. It's all the same fucking people on tumblr going around and making hundreds of replies to all these posts getting mad for zero reason. Like, I just went through the notes of some post that was about body positivity and shit, and there were some users arguing and @ing other people who's replies weren't showing up. I go to the blog that's been @'d and find out that at some point I'd already blocked them.

It's funny. I mean, I use the block button VERY liberally. I have lots of people blocked on tumblr. But it's hilarious to me that because of my extreme blocking habits, that I tend to find that the people being shit on tumblr are usually always the same fucking dickheads. Always mad, always angry, always seething and frothing at the fucking mouth at the existence of people who are different to them. It's fucking hilarious. These bitches really have no life. They fill their entire days and lives with nothing but hate, and they get fuck all out of it. lmao

[guigz1-coldwar]

"A place in your heart" : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"A place in your heart"

Chapter Summary : Bell return to the safehouse with Park and take a nap, reliving an memory......

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3500

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'Come on, let's go back to the safehouse' was the first thing Park said after she recomforted me. I don't know how Park is able to have this effect on me but she is really someone competent in it. By an simple move, she is able to make myself calm down and to not stress anymore about my bad thoughts even if it's temporary. I can only thanks her with my love and by her presence with me, I know that she can't let me down because she promised me to be at my side and I promised her to stay with her, she was the main reason that I came back.....the only reason that is keeping me alive.

After our little recon mission and that 'incident', we decided that it was better to get back to the safehouse as we weren't going to stay more longer to listen to Duvall and his politics bullshit and anyway, when I came back to the car, his little speech was already done, meaning the end of our mission and our 'liberation' from that guy. On the way back, I didn't even look outside the car to see the surroundings, more focused on having my head in my hands, trying to clean up my thoughts away.

We arrived at the safehouse and we could see that Wolf & Sims weren't there meaning that they were still on their mission, keeping an eye open on the places that Derazio was 'protecting'. We entered the house and the first thing I did was to get myself on the couch, lying down on it and looking at the ceilling without saying an thing. My body was like looking tired after having worked on decrypting some transmissions during 3 hours and listening to Duvall. I think I could take a little nap.....

I was in an apartment and by looking at it, it was mine, looking very casual and not very fancy with some pictures of me, sometimes in a sort of military uniform or sometimes, me in my younger days....with Perseus at my side. It was apparently located also in the outskirts of Moscow as I could see the city from my window. I was very thinkful as I looked through it, seeing the snow, falling outside in the night.

Sit on my chair, I start to take a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and have a cigarette out of it before I light it up, putting it on my lips. I was sort of dreaming away, wearing my usual uniform with the top shirt button removed and my hair in a bit of a mess. When I was finally comfy in that very chair, I could start to hear some knocks at my apartment door, causing me to get up my chair, a little bit annoyed as I was hoping for some peace. I breathed a little before I opened the door.

"Zed !" I first said, surprised to see them here, wearing big clothes to protect them from the snow.

"Hi, Yirina." They waved at me, enthusiastic to see me.

"I'm surprised to see you here, I thought that you were back home to take care of Dedov." I exclaimed to them, looking behind them, seeing nobody.

"Yeah, I did that but when he was going to sleep, I told him that I needed to come see you and he agreed, saying that he has Beans with him." He scoffed at the end, making me a little laugh.

"Beans is always here to recomfort you both." I added after my laugh, happy to say that. They nodded in approval,

"Good thing that I accepted to have her, Beans is our moral support." They continued before I took a last look behind them.

"Oh, you can enter, you're not going to stay outside all the time." I snorted, pulling myself aside from the door, gesturing to Zasha to enter my apartment and they complied to it.

"Freya is not here ?" They asked, fully in the apartment as I was closing the door, I stopped myself by hearing her name.

"No." I replied in a low voice. "Because of two reasons." I then pointed to them the couch, gesturing them to sit on it before I decided to go in the kitchen. "Want coffee ?" I asked before getting into the kitchen part.

"You know me well !" They answered and that would mean yes. The kitchen was just at the couch sight allowing me to discuss with Zasha.

"First reason is that we don't want to attract Perseus attention on us, you know his opinion on the subject."  I started, preparing their cup of coffee for them, I didn't decide to make one for me as I didn't want to drink.

"Oh yeah, a stubborn man like you said !" They affirmed, making me look at them with a grin as their coffee was ready. "And what's the second reason ?" They questioned as I arrived in the living room with their coffee.

"Might hard to tell." I said, giving them their cup and thanking me before walking to get sit on my own chair. "I have doubts about my relationship with Freya."  Hearing me almost caused them to choke themselves with the sip they just taken from their coffee and then, give me a confused look.

"You're serious ?" I nodded to their question.

"Since a week ago, there's been someone called Sonya that arrived in the Perseus Collective and they're a mysterious person....and somehow, Freya is been too friendly with them." I added to my nodding and they were still confused with me. "Two days ago, I saw Sonya literally kissing Freya in Perseus base in the Ural Mountains and I watched them from a safe place."

"Wait, are you saying to me that Freya is cheating on you ? Do you think that Freya is not happy about that ?" They asked and I rolled my eyes from that question.

"You're joking...." I started to scoff "Freya was taking a lot of pleasure.....enough to undress herself as Sonya was watching them doing that, I was so angry that I left the base to return here." I wasn't joking anymore but I couldn't get myself angry about it. Zasha was literally troubled by that, maybe they thought that they arrived in the bad times.

"I never think of that from Freya, did you feel yourself like.....manipulated ?" They were feeling worried about me, I slowly nodded, biting my lips at the same time.

"Even if I'm so enraged about this, I can't let myself show my anger to her." I told them, trying to look away to a picture where I was with Freya at my side. "I think I might need to take my distance with her, like a big break.....maybe break up with her."

"It's been almost 3 years that you're together." They whispered before slowly taking a sip.

"There's thoughts telling me that...I shouldn't have never engaged myself into that kind of relationship with her, you know." I exclaimed, putting my arm on the chair armrest and they nodded, understanding my thoughts.

"As you said, Freya & you were more like sisters." They affirmed to me.

"Yeah, we should have keep it that way." I added to their statement, breathing about thinking about it. "It may take time for me to tell her that but I will do it anyway." I looked at the ceilling in desesperation, trying to clear my mind. "Do you want to know the first time I kissed a girl...my first kiss ?" I asked.

"Why not ? It can change from talking about Freya." They joked, very curious to hear my story, getting themselves comfy in the couch.

"At 17 years old, there were a new girl that came into our military class. She was named Julie, she was french and we became great friends." I started, all serious in my story. "One day while I was in the girls toilet of our academy, she came in, saying she needed help with....kissing as her date was waiting for her."

"I guess at that time, you weren't an expert on kissing ?" They joked not badly and I laughed a little about it.

"Let's just say that I posed as someone who know it well !" I exclaimed with wide eyes, trying to justify myself. "Anyway, I gave her advices from people who already told me until she asked for a demonstration and then, we kissed."

"Wow, that was your first kiss : learning to someone as you don't know it too." They looked at me with an funny face,

"Wait because it's not done...." I started, raising my index finger. "When we were finished, she was leaving but then, she came back and kissed me again : I was HER date !" I added, making them stunned from that. "We finished making up in the toilet during an hour. It's since that day I realized that I was loving only woman."

"Damn, I'm really surprised to hear that story you never told me." They said, pretty amazed, having just finished their coffee. "I guess that this Julie stayed in your memories." I nodded,

"We stayed together until she had to leave the USSR. After that, we never had contact with each other again but I still have her in my heart as my first kiss." I finally finished my story, making me take a deep breath. "Since Julie, it was only minor relationships I had as it was something uncommon to do....until Freya came in." I bit a part of my lips, saying again her name, trying to not be sad and angry.

"If you think you have to break up with her to be better, do it !" They suggested as a friendly advice and I take it well. "By the way, I didn't tell why I came here." They added, putting their cup on the table before trying to search for something in their jacket.

"That's right, you didn't tell." I admitted as I talked about my problems instead of the essentials.

"Don't worry, it's nothing bad but see it as a great news." They affirmed before they finally grab the thing they were looking for : a ring with a diamond incrusted in it. Seeing it and I was jaw-dropped.

"No...." I said, smiling, having guessed their intentions as they were showing the ring perfectly to me

"I'm gonna ask Portnova to marry me, she's going to move in with me & Dedov next week." They exclaimed, enthusiastic as hell, happy about their own news. I started to move to get a closer look at the ring. "I will ask for her hand at Christmas."

"My god, Zed !" I was like speechless as I decided to sit myself on the couch with them. "It's incredible !" I then moved to give them a friendly hug as a sign of my gratitude.

"The only thing that is blocking me is my status : you know that the laws is avoiding me to do this official." They were looking sad for a second before I decided to reassure them.

"Don't worry, I will make sure that your marriage with Portnova is gonna be an exception from the laws." I told them, making them grin of happiness. "So, now it's gonna be Zasha Smirnov and Yirina Smirnov or the contrary : Zasha Portnova & Yirina Portnova or maybe joint names ?"

"I don't know, I'm waiting after Christmas for that to talk about it." They sniffed, still happy about that move.

"Yes, you're right !" I smiled about it, laughing a little. "You deserve all this happiness, Zasha. It's more important for you than our work for Perseus."

"About work, when do we go back to work ?" They asked like that, making me roll my eyes.

"Zasha, I just learned that you're going to get married and you're talking about work." I breathed before deciding to tell them. "We're going back to work in two days : someone from the CIA is apparently willing to give to us some files to decrypt, must be nothing big but, it's our work."

"Yes....it's our work !"  They repeated my words in a low voice.

"Anyways." I tapped gently my legs before I got up from the couch "For the moment, let's forget our personal problems to celebrate your news." I then grab their cup of coffee in my hands and started walking back to the kitchen.

"We might need more coffee for that !"

I was happy to see that memory : relieved to hear some good news but also troubled to learn about Freya apparently cheating on me. But that part of that dream and its bad thoughts were quickly replaced by the good news that Zasha brought me. Inside of me, I was just feeling so good to hear this, Zasha is a good person, they deserve all the happiness in the world to be with Portnova and their brother. They need that and I need to know where they are.

I finally wake up slowly, still on that couch, arms crossed and I could feel some details : I wasn't wearing my jacket anymore and my legs were posed on something. When I opened my eyes, I could see Park, having my legs on her lep as she was also sit on that couch as an support for them. She was smiling at me and I returned the favor as I slowly open my eyes.

"Hey, Park." I said in a low voice, seeing her entirely.

"You have a pretty good nap, love..." She breathed, sounding lovely, her left hand posed on my legs moving it alongside them.

"If you were there, it's always good." I affirmed before I was wondering about something. "How much time I was sleeping ?" I asked and then she showed me 3 raised finger from her right hand. "Three ?"

"Yes, you got lucky that Sims & Wolf didn't came back from their mission." She make a silent laugh about it. "They will come back soon as they radio'ed us...well more me than you since you fall out in that couch very quickly." She continued, giving me a good look.

"I just wanted some rest from.....well, you know...." I affirmed, truly. I wasn't thinking of it anymore after spending 3 HOURS on that couch. "We don't need to talk about this."

"It's okay like I said." She told me, giving me lovely tap on my legs with her left hand before she look back at me "I hear you talking for a few minutes in your sleep, you had a memory back ?"

"Yeah, first part a little bit sad but more happy after." I replied, not sure if she already know because I talked in my sleep.

"I just heard the part where you talked about....Freya cheating on you with that Sonya." She exclaimed, having her eyes on the picture of them, still on the dashboard.

"I was considering to break up with her but I don't know if I did it as it was looking to be more on December 1980....a few days before me & Zasha discover 'Greenlight'."  I wasn't smiling at the last part as in that memory, we were still unconscious of that. "I think we better talk about something else than Freya, if you want."

"Okay." She whispered, approving my choice. "Maybe we can talk about that Zasha ?" They asked, curious.

"Well, I worked with Zasha since 1975 at the KGB, we were working as a team to decrypt and encrypt files for Perseus and I saw them like an family member." I responded, giving her the important details at first. "I helped them by giving them money for them and their brother in need, they survived thanks to me but I can't tell what happened to them after December 1980." I added, sounding a little bit worried at the end.

"It's relieving to hear that : it's showing me that you are truly a kind person, Yirina." She affirmed, recomforting me in the inside and the outside. "I don't know Zasha but I can say that I'm willing to meet them if we can."

"I'm pretty sure you are going to like them." I said, sure of my words as Zasha was the most brave person I have been friends in my old life. "In that memory, they revealed to me that they were going to marry their lover."

"Wow, that's very good news !" She told, enthusiastic too about hearing this news.

"I was willing at 100% to help them secure their marriage with her." I smiled about it. "She was named Yirina Portnova."

"Oh...." The tone of her voice was sounding surprised by it and she stopped herself doing her moves with her left hand

"You know her ?" I asked, curious

"No, it's just that I never thought that their lover's name was also Yirina." She replied, sure of her answer and my suspicions goes away like that, she was just stunned to hear that name.

"They were so happy about it and I was too...." I started, taking a deep breath. "They deserved all the happiness that they needed to have." I then decided to redress myself on the couch, getting sit next to Park, close to her. "Do you think I deserve it too ?" I asked, she nodded.

"We deserve it." She simply said before her lips met mine, making me move my hand on her face gently before we broke the kiss, our foreheads against each other.

"I love you 3000 !" I said, relieved to be able to kiss her again in the lips as I put my arms on her shoulders.

"I love you too....3000 too !" She breathed, serious and smiling at me as we slowly start to move to kiss again....until.....

"Uhm, uhm !" Someone coughed by purpose in the room and in a second, we quickly moved away from each other, discovering Sims, leaned against the door frame of the living room, looking at us with an face that could say 'got you both !'

"Sims, that's not...." Park started to said before she lost her own words, redressing her own clothes back to normal as me....I was faking a embarassed look, knowing that Sims know.

"It's okay, it's been 3 years that I know !" He exclaimed, removing himself from the door to get next to the couch, without sitting on it "Don't worry, I will tell anything." He added, giving me a approving look.

"You better be !" Park ordered in a normal voice and I could feel her angriness deep in her voice before she decide to look at the door "Wolf isn't here ?" She asked, changing the subject

"He's just outside, taking a quick call." Sims replied before looking at the dashboard "So, how was Duvall's speech ?"

"Very boring and very shitty." I responded, rolling my eyes to talk about it and honestly, I don't know if it was the thing Sims was waiting. "We can remove that person from our priority target list." I pointed at Sonya's picture "They're named Sonya but they have left the country after having enough of protecting Duvall's ass around in public !" I added, giving him the intel about them, joking at the end.

"They were the Perseus agent in charge of protecting Duvall." Park gave him more about their identity.

"Guess we have no choice but to stay here to get Duvall." Sims put his hand on his wraist before looking back at us "For us, we have finished to spot the places Derazio is 'protecting"....."

"And we finally know where that guy is living !" Another voice arrived in the room, revealing Wolf that just cut Sims, with an satellite phone in his hand. "Derazio is living at the penthouse of the Royal Hotel, a building right in the middle of the New Orleans skyline !" He added as he walked to get to the dashboard to put an picture of the building on it. "Of course, since Derazio is a freaking paranoid person, he never left that penthouse and when he does, it's only for extreme case."

"Well, that's mean that we had no choice but to get rid of Derazio into his own penthouse ?" I suggested, getting up to get a closer look at the phto as Wolf & Sims nodded at the same. "It will be risky but let's get along with it since Derazio is paranoid."

"Also, it will take time to have a perfect plan against him." Park added, also getting up to look at Sims. "Anyway, I'm in too....well, we all in !" She continued, getting sure that it was our only plan that we have on Derazio : strike him right into his heart ! I was thinking, looking at the picture of the bulding, about things.....

"Guess Derazio will have to die hard !

[glorious-spoon]

Live Like Legends [The Old Guard]

Title: Live Like Legends Pairing: Gen; background canon pairings Rating: Teen Warnings: None Other Tags: Canon-typical gore, Bathing/washing, Non-sexual intimacy Summary: After a particularly bloody battle, the team takes care of each other. Notes: For a prompt on The Old Guard Kinkmeme that asked for the team bathing together.

ON AO3

*

Nile has been crammed in the back seat in between Booker and Andy for what feels like hours, although it’s probably more like twenty minutes, while Joe takes a circuitous route out of the city. She kind of wishes he’d hurry it up, but on the other hand, getting pulled over in their current state would make what’s already been a pretty bad day way, way worse.

Booker’s legs don’t really fit in the cramped back seat, but he doesn’t really seem that put out about the way he’s got one knee twisted up under the door handle and the other jammed into Nile’s thigh. His hand is across his face like he’s dozing. On her other side, Andy has her head tilted against the window, hair leaving smears of blood on the glass, to all appearances genuinely fast asleep. Up front, Joe is talking with Nicky in Italian too quick and soft for her to follow.

The whole vibe is unnervingly reminiscent of late-night bus trips home from her varsity soccer games. Other than the fact that they’re all liberally smeared with blood and gore. Nile can feel something horribly chunky dribbling down the back of her neck every time she moves, and she has an awful suspicion that it’s bits of her own brain from that last shotgun blast she took. She’s trying very hard not to think about that mostly because this is all disgusting enough without adding vomit to the mix.

“We’re here,” Nicky says suddenly in English, and Nile lifts her head, blinking dazedly, as the little safe-house comes into view. Joe brakes gently into the driveway, which turns enough that the tall hemlocks lining the road block them from view of anybody who might be out driving by.

Andy is up by the time they come to a stop, going from sleeping to waking in the blink of an eye. She shoves the door open and offers Nile a hand out; on the other side, Booker groans as he unfolds himself out of the car.

Nile’s shirt sticks to the back of the seat like it’s glued before finally peeling away. “Dibs on the shower,” she mumbles, and Andy laughs. “What?”

“It’s a big shower,” Joe says over his shoulder as he climbs the steps. Nicky pushes the door open while she’s still blinking about that, and holds it open for the rest of them to slip inside.

The rest of them make a beeline to the bathroom, shedding clothes as they go, and Nile pauses in the doorway, letting the door fall shut behind her. “Wait, are you serious?”

“What, you never shared a shower before?” Booker asks absently. He’s focused on the buttons of his shirt, which are tacky with blood.

Nile rolls her eyes. “I mean, yeah, but not with four other people. Not like this.”

“We should all fit,” Joe says through the open bathroom door. He’s naked already, which at least answers the question of whether they’re leaving their underwear on as some kind of awkward nod to modesty. It’s probably just as well. Nile took a couple of bullets to the chest and she’s pretty sure the underwire is popping out of her bra from how it keeps jabbing at her. Nicky kicks his pants off too and leans around him to start the shower, and Nile sighs, shakes her head, and gives up.

“Fuck it. Fine,” she says, and reaches up to start unbraiding her hair. She realizes her mistake a moment later when she gets a handful of—something—slimy and squishing, and she gags before Andy steps close and grips her wrist firmly, bringing it down.

“Let me do it,” she says calmly. It doesn’t come out like a question, exactly, but she waits until Nile nods before moving around behind her to start undoing her braid, matter-of-factly pulling out bits of gore and God knows what else. Nile closes her eyes and breathes in through her nose, then out, waiting for her gorge to settle. When she opens them again, Booker is crowding into the shower after Nicky and Joe. Nile watches long enough to see him catch an elbow to the midsection from the latter that doesn’t look entirely accidental, then closes her eyes again.

“If you’re not comfortable with it,” Andy says from behind her as her fingers work, “I’ll kick them out.”

The thing is, Nile knows she’d do it, just like she knows that all three men would comply without complaint. It’s that, maybe, that makes her shake her head. “No, it’s fine. Not like we need to be tracking more blood all over the place anyway. Besides, none of you got anything I haven’t seen before.”

Andy laughs softly. “Fair enough. There, you should be good.”

“Thank you,” Nile says, turning back toward her. She looks like some sort of elemental, shirtless and smeared with blood, but there’s a gentleness about her expression all the same. A kind of calm that leaves Nile space to settle.

“You’re welcome.” The corner of her mouth tilts up, and she bends down to unzip her boots, adding, “Better hurry before we run out of hot water.”

“There’s plenty,” Nicky says from behind the shower curtain. And then, “Joe, here, let me—”

“Thank you, habibi.”

Andy tugs her blood-drenched jeans and underwear off, leaves them in the heap that Nile is pretty sure they’re going to have to burn, and climbs into the shower. There’s a rustle behind the curtain, and Booker yelps, “A little warning next time, boss? I really don’t want to die again tonight from slipping in the bathtub.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” Andy says, and Joe snorts, and Nile finds herself grinning as she pulls off her clothes and follows.

Inside is cramped and steamy, a wet tangle of limbs, but Joe was right; they do fit, just barely. Nicky is under the spray, rinsing soap out of his hair, a pink-tinged trail of suds sliding down his shoulders and back. Booker’s hair is covered in soap too, but when Nicky ducks out from under the water he catches Nile gently by the shoulder and steers her under it, and Nile lets herself be steered. Lets the warm water sluice over her body for a moment, then takes the washcloth Nicky passes her and runs it over herself, rinsing away the blood and other things better left unmentioned. “Anybody seen my shampoo?”

“Here,” Joe says, and leans between Nicky and Andy to pass her the shampoo bar. Nile takes it gratefully. That’s the nice thing about this being an actual safe-house instead of some random hotel room: her stuff is here, and she’s not stuck trying to wash gore out of her hair with some shitty hotel soap.

She moves out from under the spray to start working shampoo into her hair, section by section, and Andy pulls Booker under it. “You have brains in your hair,” she says, working her fingers through his soapy hair with the air of a mama cat forcibly bathing her kitten. Nile snorts out a giggle, feeling dazed and punch-drunk. Gunshot-drunk. If that’s a thing.

“I think we all had brains in our hair after that.”

“Except maybe Nicky.”

“Hmm,” Nicky agrees. He’s running a cloth over Joe’s back and shoulders with careful focus as Joe leans against the shower wall, wet curls falling into his face, eyes closed. “I did avoid that. Although I’ll admit that decapitation is still not my favorite way to go.”

“Especially when they use a dull machete,” Joe mumbles into the crook of his arm, not asleep after all.

Nicky drops a kiss on his newly clean shoulder. “Well, we can’t all be dashing warriors with a shamshir.”

Nile peers at him, suds running down her elbow to drip on the tile floor. “Wait, is this another one of your murder-flirting things, or…?”

“Asqalan,” Joe says, still into his arm. “What a fucking mess that was.”

Nicky kisses his other shoulder with an air of apology. “It was.”

“You’re done,” Andy says to Booker, elbowing him out of the way to step under the spray herself, tilting her head back. Rivulets of water cut through the blood caked on her skin, pooling around her feet. Nile finishes with her hair and leans past Andy to get the shower gel and another washcloth, which she wets and passes over to Booker.

“Thank you,” he says, with a brief smile. Andy is already scrubbing herself with a handful of suds, balancing gracefully on first one foot and then the other to get at the blood that must have dribbled into her boots. When she finishes, she draws Nile back under the water with a gentleness that Nile would never have thought her capable of when they first met.

This is up there with some of the more casually bizarre situations she’s been in since she died and woke up for the first time, especially if she discounts all the ones that involved getting murdered, but it’s… nice. It’s really nice, actually.

She finds herself sitting on the edge of the tub some time later, detangling her hair with her fingers while Nicky and Joe sway together under the spray in what looks like something between a slow-dance and a half-conscious effort at staying upright. It should feel uncomfortably intimate, but instead Nile just feels warm and loose and relaxed for the first time in hours. Maybe weeks. There’s something peaceful about it, the familiar scent of coconut as she works conditioner through her hair, the warm patter of water on the tile floor, long-since rinsed clean, the little human noises of all of them together.

“Okay, I’m getting us clothes before we all fall asleep in here,” Booker mutters eventually, and slips around the two of them to climb out of the tub. Andy huffs laughter and smacks at his hip without looking up from where she’s scrubbing blood out from under her nails; Booker ruffles her wet hair, tips Nile a grin, and then is gone.

He’s back a few minutes later, dressed, with a stack of towels and four piles of pajamas. Nicky and Joe move aside to let Nile under the spray to rinse out the conditioner, and by the time she shuts the water off, warm and clean at last, she’s alone in the shower.

The others are already dried off and dressing when she climbs out onto the wet floor. The coolness of the room is a shock, and she huddles gratefully into the towel that Booker drapes over her shoulders. He got her pajamas and one of her head scarves, a gold-and-purple one she found somewhere in Marrakesh. She smiles up at him, and he squeezes her shoulder and says, to Andy, “You have a visitor.”

Andy groans. “If it’s Copley, I’m going to shoot him. Or maybe myself.”

“You just got done washing the blood off,” Booker points out. He nods toward the living room. “It’s not Copley.”

“Oh,” Andy says. She tugs a t-shirt over her head, peers out through the doorway, then lets out a word that might be a curse or a prayer in a language that Nile doesn’t recognize, her face going soft. “Oh.”

“Who—” Joe begins, peering after her. Nicky cranes his head as well. “Ah.”

“You’re just going to keep the suspense going, huh?” Nile asks. She pulls on her shirt, then follows the rest of them out into the living room, scarf in hand and still-damp hair dripping down her back.

Perched on the sagging couch is a woman that she’s seen only once outside of dreams: this afternoon, spinning a path of destruction through the mercenaries who had them pinned down inside the warehouse with the fearless grace of someone who cannot die. She vanished before any of them could follow, and Andy was white and wordess all the way back to the car.

She’s cleaned up sometime between now and then, dressed in jeans and a wool jacket wrapped tightly around her even though it’s not at all cold in here. Her hair is braided out of her face and her expression is impossible to read, her eyes fixed on Andy.

“Quynh,” Andy says, a soft exhalation. She’s gripping the door frame like it’s the only thing holding her upright.

Quynh inclines her head slowly. Out of a fight, there’s something cautious and rusty about the way she moves, like she’s still remembering how to exist in her body, in the world. “Andromache.” Her eyes move over the rest of them, dark and wary. “Nicolò and Yusuf. And you’re the new one.”

“Yeah,” Nile says. She has no idea what to do with this frozen standoff, but it’s clear that none of the rest of them are going to make a move, and anyway her mother raised her right. She steps forward, holds out her hand. “Nile. Nile Freeman. It’s nice to meet you.”

There’s a sound like a choked laugh behind her, but after a long moment Quynh smiles slightly and reaches up to clasp her hand.

[jaykore]

you're one of the people i keep chekcing on regularly hoping that u dont get driven away by harrassment. im kinds new to paying attention to comics fandom and it seems like a.. hostile environment at times. but uh, yeah, just wanted to tell you that you're one of my favourite artists and i truly enjoy your blog and getting to find new artists and writers int he fandom to keep an eye on thru it. so yeah! hope youre doing well and ty for sharing ur stuff

Thank you so much, that’s really thoughtful <3 Y’know, its really not too bad for the most part - especially if you find a really good pocket of people who support you and/or like the same things. Every once in a while things flare up, but its generally pretty chill! I’ve already been through the ringer a few years ago, with very targeted harassment/death threats etc. it would take a lot to drive me away from this fandom at this point. I’ve been very lucky to find people who I have made genuine friendships with, and I know that I can deal with anything if I have them to support me.  I’ve also learned to be very liberal with my block button, and turning off anon just affords me that extra wall of security... I come to tumblr and do what I do for fun/escapism. I don’t need negativity. It’s not that its going to drive me away, I just prefer not to see it and if I have a means to block it I’m going to use it moving forward. Thank you for your kind words @bluecamellia and for checking up on me! I promise I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.

[leagueofidiots]

Shigadabi, tad bit of angst but it's brief, death in game, set in current manga time for once lol

Based off of this post: https://leagueofidiots.tumblr.com/post/190065984843/leagueofidiots-lunarapocolypse

"I don't understand why you can't just play with Spinner," says Dabi. "I'm probably gonna suck at this."

"Never know until you try," says Shigaraki, starting the game up. "Besides, I trust your abilities. And even if you do suck, it'll be nice to spend time together for once." 

Dabi nods. "Fair enough." Since joining the Paranormal Liberation Front, their moments alone had been few and far between because of Dabi's habit of isolating himself when stressed and all of Tomura's new responsibilities. "What's this one called again?"

"Minecraft. It's pretty simple. You just try not to die and make stuff." He grabs his remote, prosthetic fingers clacking on the plastic. "Basic controls: mine, place, motion, direction, crafting menu, pause, map, jump," he says, pointing at various controls.

Dabi nods, catching about half of the instructions. "Yeah, okay. Uh...die how?"

"Just zombies and stuff. You'll figure it out." He quickly makes a world in normal mode instead of hard, per Dabi's request, named "my bf sucks", and starts up the videogame.

Once making it through the tutorial segment for Dabi's sake, Dabi says, " Okay, so first we should probably make a better shelter, right? I don't want to stand in a hole in the side of a mountain again tonight."

Shigaraki shrugs. "You can handle that if you want, I'm gonna go do something else. Meet up at this ugly tree at sunset, I guess?"

"Yeah, sure, okay." Dabi almost argues that building a proper shelter in one day should be a two-person job, but reminds himself that out of the two of them, Tomura's the gamer and definitely more experienced.

It does turn out to be simpler than he expected, not much more than digging down a tree for a door and digging up row after row or dirt. Suddenly he hears a wave of pathetic "meows", and glances in alarm at Shigaraki's side of the screen. " What are you doing?!?"

Shigaraki's hot bar is full of stacks of spawn eggs, which are rapidly being thrown down into a deep pool he sits in, the resulting cats floating up to a stone roof and slowly drowning. "Being more fun than you."

"That's not 'fun', you NEET, that's useless murder! Where did you even get those?!?"

Tomura chuckles. "You think I've been playing this long and haven't learned the cheat codes? Besides, you're the one that goes into alleyways to set stray thugs on fire, not me. At least mine's just pixelated cats."

Dabi rolls his eyes. "You could at least help me with the shelter here."

"It's a fifteen-by-eight two-story dirt palace, I don't think you need any help. Besides, it's a game. It's supposed to be fun. You're making this like one of Kurogiri's old---" He cuts himself off at the mention of his father figure.

Dabi glances at his boyfriend, slightly concerned, though he'll never show it. "Fine, keep drowning cats, see if I care. But at least come back with beds if you can generate stuff."

He nods, shooting off another few eggs. "Dabi, do you think we're ever gonna win this thing?" he asks, leaning onto Dabi's shoulder.

The man stiffens a little, but lets Tomura stay. "Yeah, I'm sure we can at least get something done. We've already had an influence, haven't we? I mean, All Might retired, there's been a resurgence in thinking like ours, and I don't think it'll just die down even if we do all end up dead or in custody. You've done good work," he says, continuing to place blocks onto their house.

"I hope it's worth it. I mean, yeah, we've done good things, but...I mean, first it was All for One. Then Magne died. Now Kurogiri. I'd hate to have to make any more sacrifices is all." 

He shoots another stack of spawn eggs down, then turns to his boyfriend. "How have you been since your fight with that Geten freak?"

Dabi groans. "He sucks. I'm fine. Burned the side of my face a little, but nothing so bad that Ujiko couldn't fix it."

Shigaraki nods. After a moment, he says,"How would you feel about a magma floor? It'd keep mobs out, might kill us if we're not careful though." He summons a stack with the press of a few buttons.

"Only if you let me place it. No offense, but I'm not sure you're exactly worried about survival based on the way you were murdering animals instead of helping me." Dabi says, finally done with their shelter.

"No, I wanna do it."

"Fine, I'll go get food. You could have at least drowned cows for food or something, geez." He was glad to have moved on from the heavier topics. Sure, it was kind of nice to have people to talk to about things like that, but he also didn't know how to. He doubted Tomura was any better at it, anyway.

"Alright, knock yourself out. Step carefully once you get back." The second Dabi passes over a hill on his quest, Shigaraki grins, and presses a few buttons in rapid-fire, the sky darkening instantly.

"Creep, I swear, put the sky back!" snaps Dabi, gently bumping Tomura off of his shoulder.

He snickers. "You were gonna have to deal with the mobs at some point. Don't worry, you're only about a minute from home."

Dabi huffs, and begins his return to the shelter. He cuts short when he sees a tall, black figure in his way. "What is this and how do I get rid of it?"

"Oh, that's an enderman. Don't worry, all you have to do is look at it right in the eye, it'll teleport away."

Dabi recognizes it as the thing Kurogiri was often compared to by both Tomura and Suichi, but decides not to bring it up. "That seems easy enough," he mumbles, adjusting his cursor to meet its purple gaze. There is a short yelp as the enderman nears to murder poor, trusting, innocent Dabi; and Shigaraki falls to the floor, cackling. Dabi was never playing this again.

[beyondthetemples]

{{ “Be Honest” mun meme

{{ Questions list taken from here:

https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/hellhaeths/182092480007

What would prevent you from following someone? Not trigger-tagging, or not using cuts for ns//fw scenes. (I have really intense emet*phobia, so if you don't tag for that, or won't tag for it upon request, I absolutely cannot follow. Savior catches most posts for me, even if they're not tagged, but there are just So Many Euphemisms and Various Ways to Describe It that it only works 75% of the time.)

Are aesthetics important to you? If they are, why? As far as blog theme, not really-- I just like fiddling around to find something that evokes their General Vibe, and seeing what themes other muns like! I won't judge by them though. When it comes to thread aesthetics, I actually prefer to leave them utterly unformatted and plain-text as possible. I have ADHD and Fancy Unicode and Symbols and All That makes it really hard for me to focus on what's going on in the thread, not to mention I don't have the attention span to match another mun's Styling like that. (Also, fun fact: I always have my Tumblr Dash at 75% zoom, and Dove’s theme already has text at a Very Readable Size, so nothing ever needs to be Smallified for me.)

What current rp trend do you hate? I don't think there are any I "hate", though I get confused on all the Different Verses that everyone has. (In all my years of writing fanfic, I've only ever written Exactly One (1) AU, and I never read them outside of rp. AUs just aren't my thing.)

How do you explain rp to someone in the real world? "Taking turns writing what the characters are doing." Everyone afk has been pretty supportive. (They all know I'm a writer, so like... it's Nothing New.)

Do you prefer interacting with male muses or female more? Why? I genuinely don't care either way! Guy, gal, nonbinary pal: as long as they're fun to write with, I don't mind a bit. (And Dove has no preference, either.)

Do you prefer writing male muses or female more? Why? Statistically, I have 3 female muses (4 if we count Evangeline as her own person and not just A Part of Dove Manifested)... and only 1 male. (And technically, both Srentha and Leyla are genderqueer, so it's really only Dove and Kary that are cis women.) But that's not intentional? Evangeline is feminine because Dove is feminine, and Kary was originally my girlfriend's-- if she was a male I still would've hardcore adopted him. It just kind of worked out that way. I just enjoy writing people, not gender roles.

Name any three things about the rpc that bother you. 1.) The aforementioned Verse Thing. (It doesn't really bother me, I'm just easily confused by Similar-Except-Vaguely-Different Things due to the ADHD.) 2.) Some people still don't know that godmodding isn't okay. 3.) The distaste for OCs??? I guess that doesn't exactly "bother" me either, because people are allowed to have preferences... but, I mean, I spent several years active in, and then Actually Running, a group of 1300 members on dA completely DEDICATED to OCs, and it was a blast, so I just don't understand why people don't like rping with them as much as canon characters. I personally find OCs more satisfying to explore, more surprising in every thread because you just don't know what to expect, and you have a LOT more freedom for plotting and reactions! Like! You can Shed the Constraints of Canon and Revel in your Newfound OC-Based Freedom!! Truly Become your Character's GOD!!!

What is your opinion on exclusivity? Do you practice it? Why / why not? Nah, I love the variety different muns can bring to the same muse! Other people can stay exclusive if they like. Being an OC mun, it doesn't exactly affect me. 8F

Have you ever had a bad experience with commissions? As either someone who makes them or as someone who buys them? (I don't really know how this pertains to RP?) But there was one time when someone gave me a really vague commission request, out of the blue, for a fandom I know absolutely nothing about, and just kept saying things like "Whatever you think they'd do!" when I asked for plot, characterization, or preference details... I never finished it because I Didn't Even Know how to START.

What do you know now about rp that you wish you knew when you first started? The reply doesn't have to be perfect. Or dramatic, even. Not every reply is going to shatter someone's heart or absolutely make their day. And that's perfectly okay!

Have you been involved in drama? Do you regret it? Nnnnot on Tumblr. (There was a LOT of drama amongst admins of the dA group, which strongly attributed to the decline of me RPing on dA, but I definitely do not regret standing up for myself. I do wish I'd been able to foresee it, though, and brought someone else on staff who was actually going to, you know, do the job they applied for?)

Have you ever thought about leaving rp? What caused it? What changed your mind? Never! Well not on Tumblr anyways. There was a period where my favorite partners were all going inactive, and I couldn't find anyone who wanted to interact with Dove, so of course I was despairing, wondering if I'd ever get to explore what I wanted to explore with her. But then I decided, you know what, so what if I can't find any canon Titans to advance her Tumblr timeline? I'll just fill in the blanks with fanfic canon, and work from there! Making that decision was so freeing.

Do you think rp has had a positive or negative affect on your life or you as a person? Oh, positive, absolutely. I may be too busy to really attend to it much nowadays, but my writing style has improved DRAMATICALLY, I've made so many friends, and I've learned things about Dove that I never would've discovered in the stories alone. (Or at least, it might've been discovered on a ten-year delay. 8F)

How has rp changed you personally? I was able to find fast friends, make connections with people over common interests, and my very first experience with leadership happened because I hung around a TTOC dA chatroom (because, specifically, I’d gotten ADDICTED to rp), came to love the people and characters, and decided, when the current admins had to step down, I would like to step up.

If you could change one thing about rp on tumblr, what would it be? Why? I'd like tags to stop breaking, that'd be nice. (But that’s an issue with Tumblr itself, not the rps.)

Have you ever sent a message to yourself on anon? Why? Pff, no. Mostly because if I really want something to happen, I'll either post an open, OR I'll do what I'm doing here, and just answer the questions myself. 8F I have a lot of fun doing this with headcanon question lists.

Have you ever sent hate to yourself on anon? Why? No, but that's because I'm all about learning (+spreading) positive self-talk, de-escalation, and avoiding drama. Drama doesn't serve anyone.

Do you delete anon hate or post and address it? Why? I address it and then block the sender, because I want everyone to know I don't stand for that. And I have this stubborn streak about standing up for myself, so, you know... Gotta Address It First. (And I've defended Dove from Mary Sue accusations since I started posting about her in 2006, so it doesn't bother me, but I love pointing out all the reasons that, Jack Rider voice: You Are Wrong!)

Have you ever felt pressured to write something you weren’t comfortable with? Nope, but that's because if I can't or don't want to, I'm open and transparent about it. (Not on Tumblr, anyways. There was one particular person in the dA chats that kept trying to make RPs All About His Muse, but we shut that down too.)

Have you ever followed someone because you felt like you had to, not because you wanted to? Hell no! I've never Automatically Followed Back, and it's right there in my rules, I need a little communication before I start interacting.

What would make you block someone? Anon hate, reblogging/replying to rps that don't involve them, starting their own rps on my posts, Bad Takes in the Tags, shipping something I genuinely can't stand... I use the block button pretty liberally. I just don't need that stuff in my life, in my tags, or on my dash.

Have you ever stolen something from someone else? Well I have adopted a couple of headcanons re: Canon Characters from the teentitansheadcanons blog. (Like hc that, one time, Beast Boy was a bug and someone almost squished him, so now they put all the bugs outside, just in case. I love that for some reason, so I adopted it.) And every now and again I'll see something in fanfic I like: Azarath Has Two Suns, I saw that in a fanfic and it just felt so RIGHT, so I adopted that too. But, I mean, rping as an OC, there's really not a lot I can steal. 8F

Have you ever had something stolen from you? If so, how did you handle it? Not on Tumblr, but somebody once stole a picture of Srentha from dA and used it in a random webs-page blog about their dreams? ??? I have no idea why they used him, or how they even fOUND him, but I kinda just shrugged and let it go.

Are you open to duplicates? Why / why not? (Isn't this basically the same question as "are you exclusive"? Because I have the same answer. I am, because I like seeing other muns' interpretations of the same character.)

How do you feel about vague posting? Use your own judgement for your own blog, but it's not something I do myself. If I have to vaguepost to vent something, I'll usually go on a more private blog, or at least stick it under a Read More.

Do you follow people even if they don’t follow you back? Yes! I like reading rps almost as much as I like writing them.

Do you read people’s rules before following or interacting? Always.

What is your opinion on “reblog karma” and do you practice it? I try to! Sometimes I can't figure out what to send in for the blog I get in from, but most of the time, I'll send something any time I reblog something. I really appreciate it when people send something in before reblogging from me, personally. c: (I get it if you can’t or don’t want to. But it sure is nice!)

How have you responded to popular slang used on tumblr? Do you use it in every day life? Do you use it at all? Not really, but I rarely use slang at all. Unless I'm actually talking about rp, muses, muns, etc, then I'll use those words.

Is there something you don’t know the meaning of but you haven’t asked anyone because you think it’s supposed to be general knowledge? Was there ever something you had to ask someone to explain? I'm that Ravenclaw who always asks questions as soon as I encounter I don't know, and I don't use words without knowing what they mean. Kinda defeats the purpose of words that way.

Have you ever experienced discrimination? Well, Dove has, since people have that "I don't like OCs" mindset. Or "she's related to a canon character, so she's automatically a Mary Sue". It's not as big of a Discrimination as sexism or racism, don't get me wrong! But it HAS limited our scope of interaction, and I personally think it’s a little unfair to make judgments like that.

How do you feel about personal blogs following your rp blog? Go for it.

Have you ever cried while writing a reply? Mmmmaybe once? More often my heartrate just raises a little in an exciting moment, or I write out a ten-paragraph response in a one-hour fit of delighted manic wordsmithing, but I've definitely been touched. (I'm just... not very good at crying when I'm focused on writing. 8F)

Do you read other people’s threads or do you only read your own? There's definitely a bias towards my own! (Before my EHD died, I had about a hundred and fifty rps saved as word documents.) But I also enjoy reading others' threads.

What’s one thing that other people seem to hate that doesn’t bother you? Hmm...Spelling and grammatical errors. When I was copying chat rps to word docs, I started editing the replies for readability, and that habit kinda transferred to Tumblr, so when I'm not in a hurry, or I have an Unusually Long Attention Span, when I copy the replies, sometimes I'll just edit them, but I'm not mad about it. Just got into that habit.

How do you feel about tagging triggers? Do you tag them? How do you determine what is triggering content and what isn’t? It is absolutely ESSENTIAL for me to have triggers tagged for ME, so of course I extend the same courtesy to others. I don't presume to know what triggers people; I've made it very clear that if anyone needs something tagged, they just have to ask, and I'll tag it. No questions asked. (Though if they want to vent about it, I'm open to that too.)

What advice would you give to someone new to rp? Just GO for it! I know it can be scary and intimidating and overwhelming to see a great writer and think, "Gosh I want to interact with them So Much".. .and you know what, sometimes you will get rejected. Sometimes you just won't mesh with muns. Sometimes your characters don't have a very exciting dynamic. But you'll never find those Goldmine RP Partners if you don't at least ASK.

[fatalism-and-villainy]

honestly,,if somebody was just browsing your blog in dashboard view, or on mobile, they almost certainly don't know when a thing was posted. tumblr has no datestamps unless your custom theme has datestamps, and that means that all posts seem recent. also, speaking as someone who can browse a tag on a blog for hours together and reblogs to a discourse blog, I honestly didn't know that was something people don't like. like, I assume that if a post isn't tagged #do not rb, it's fine to reblog. huh

I mean, if they were browsing in dashboard view, then they would have to scroll down fairly far to find this post, so they should at least realize that it isn’t recent. The only other option is if they found the post through search, but I would at least think that if a post doesn’t have many notes, and is behind a readmore, then just assuming it’s okay to reblog is a bit questionable? it’s true that I don’t always specify when I’m not comfortable with things being reblogged - and sometimes that’s just because I forget, or because it doesn’t occur to me that people might want to reblog it. 

But there are also generally accepted rules about reblogging posts without asking - if they’re very specific, personal posts, for example, or if they’re potentially controversial or the kind of thing that could get that person attacked by more popular or influential people. I would just much rather people use their common sense and ask before bringing potentially inflammatory discussions into the wider sphere, especially if they’re divorced from the context of who I am as a person and my beliefs (because if I’m writing for my blog audience, I tend to assume that they have at least some background knowledge about me and how I engage, and therefore don’t feel as much of a need for constant qualifiers). Especially if you’re reblogging to a discourse blog. Idk how many followers you have, but some people are pretty influential, and I don’t want posts I make that are just for my benefit, because I’m teasing some thoughts out or screenshotting discussions to provide examples of something I don’t like, to be used as fodder for attacks or mockery or bad faith assumptions, rather than discussion. I often feel as though people are just cherry picking what I post, and reblogging pithy short posts because they’re easily digestible soundbites that can be utilized to attack an acceptable target, without really understanding my reason for making them or paying attention to longer, better thought out things that I write. 

I’m also admittedly a bit touchy about this, because the last time this happened, I messaged someone asking them to delete their reblog of my post, and they responded that they had deleted it, but that they had blocked me, because it gave them anxiety when people PM’d them without warning. And while I respect people’s right to block me for any reason (I’m pretty liberal with the block button myself), this person hadn’t actually deleted my post, and I then had no way of contacting them about this. I really have to wonder if this person just wanted an excuse to ignore my request and silence my attempt to enforce my boundaries, under the guise of protecting their own, since “I’ll delete it later” and then forgetting is a very different situation from “okay, I deleted it” when they haven’t actually done so. No, most people who do what you’re describing don’t do this, but this little episode didn’t really help my impression that people who trawl my blog for discourse fodder don’t have a very good sense of boundaries or context.      

Like, look. I don’t have hard and fast rules about reblogging. I don’t want “always ask before reblogging” to be a policy, because there’s plenty of stuff I post that I want reblogged, or at least wouldn’t mind being reblogged (i.e. shitposts, fun stuff, well thought out (by my standards) essays. And I do often indicate if something is explicitly intended to stay on my blog, or put in the tags “idk how i feel about this being reblogged, please ask first.” But I don’t think my forgetting to do that should mean that people reading my blog shouldn’t meet me halfway, or shouldn’t have any responsibility for trying to figure out tone and context. And context really, really does matter. Someone who already has been following me for awhile (even if I don’t follow them) reblogging a post without asking is very different from some stranger, who might not know anything about me, digging up some random post and @ing a friend who often engages in wanky discussions with trolls on their blog. Just. Please use common sense and critical thinking. That’s all I’m asking. 

[tempestuousheinousbitch]

( brie larson, cisfemale, she/her, 27 ) — have you seen [ BOBBI MOORE ] around shermer? i hear they’re INDIVIDUALISTIC, but can also be TEMPESTUOUS A HEINOUS BITCH. they remind me of [ KAT STRATFORD from 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ], but it might just be me. last i saw them, they were working as a(n) [ JOURNALIST ]. 

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Roberta Jolene Moore NICKNAME(S): Bobbi, Bobbi Jo AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 27, 01/16/1992 OCCUPATION: Journalist GENDER: Cisfemale PRONOUNS: She/Her HOMETOWN: Seattle, Washington CURRENT RESIDENCE: Shermer, Illinois POSITIVE TRAITS: Individualistic, Eloquent, Organized, Purposeful NEGATIVE TRAITS: Tempestuous, Shrewish, Cynical, Scornful

BIOGRAPHY

non-consensual tw, implied rape tw

there is no greater comfort than the pitter patter of the rain. she loves it - craves it when it’s not around. perhaps that’s a result of growing up in washington state. rain was a constant in her youth, as well as douglas firs peaking out over silvery mist and slate colored skies. yes, it does rain in shermer, but illinois rainfall couldn’t compete with the damp autumns of the pacific northwest. it’s the one thing bobbi misses most as she sits before her laptop, bemoaning the writer’s block that’s keeping her page blank, a room temp cup of black coffee and a deap vally record all but forgotten to the blonde. if only it rained a little more the midwest. 

roberta jolene moore was born the eldest of two daughters to an obstetrician and an aspiring writer. but let’s get one thing clear - her name is bobbi. she’ll murder you if you call her roberta. no one calls her roberta. not since the day her mom up and left the family without so much as an explanation. whoever roberta moore was died as the tail lights of her mom’s 1971 corola vanished into the horizon. it would be a few more hours before her dad or younger sister woke up to the news, but bobbi had already witnessed it. she supposed that was a day that a lot changed for her. all of those childlike qualities that little girls so naturally possess seemed to vanish over night. dad was going to need someone to look out for him, and her little sister was going to be in desperate need of a strong female presence. so bobbi filled the gaps that their mother’s departure left. she became a homemaker and a nurturer, a shoulder for her hysterical father and naive sister to lean on, and she became the backbone of a family that had suddenly lost their foundation. 

of course this wasn’t the event that lead to the shrewish woman she is often condemned for today. no, maternal abandonment wasn’t going to be the thing that broke her. naturally, it was junior high. bobbi wasn’t exactly the most pretty thing around. like most ninth graders, she was a little awkward looking and experiencing the pains of puberty and acne. but she wasn’t bad looking either - at least, not to the class stud. for whatever reason they dated. probably because bobbi was a much different girl back then. she was someone who wanted to be accepted and who wanted to belong. which made it easy to get her to do what he wanted. all it took was some sweet words and enough wine coolers to cause bobbi moore to lose all inhibitions. she doesn’t remember much from that night. she remembers the music and the laughter of the party, and the first taste of alcohol. the rest was a blur, and her next clear memory was the following morning, laying naked and alone in the guest bedroom of her boyfriend’s house. it was easy to piece together what happened - she got drunk and she lost her virginity at the tender age of fourteen. something switched off for her in that moment, a feeling of discomfort. when her friends had written off the experience as “something she wanted” and “something teenagers all do”, she tried to write it off as all being okay. but of course, when her ‘doting’ boyfriend dumped her shortly after, the humiliation was enough to change bobbi. never again would she let other people’s expectations decide what she was going to do, and never again would she trust anyone else’s intentions with her. 

that was the beginning to the bobbi moore evolution, though she isn’t one to admit it. it’s no one’s business why she’s the way she is or what lead to her being such a ‘heinous bitch’. she doesn’t really feel like she owes anyone explanations for the kind of person she is. she’s bobbi moore - shrewd investigative journalist, tempestuous ‘feminazi’ writer, abrasive and aggressively assertive liberal, whatever. she kind of just lets people say what they want to say. to correct them would mean that she cares about her reputation and in the immortal words of joan jett, she “ doesn’t give a damn about her bad reputation. ” if being the town shrew is the only way to keep people at arm’s length, then bobbi is all for it. or people who aren’t worth her time - if you’ve got even an ounce of originality and aren’t a walking and talking cliche then you just might be one of her close circle, the few people in shermer she actually likes socializing with and being associated with. it’s a wonder if there’s anyone that can tame her. 

seems unlikely. 

MISC

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Pansexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Panromantic LANGUAGES: English FAMILY: Walter Moore (father), Mrs. Moore (mother, estranged), Becky Moore (sister) PETS: a Husky named Ruth Bader Ginsbark and a Golden Retriever named Rosie The Retrieveter ZODIAC SIGN: Capricorn MBTI: ISTJ AESTHETIC: black coffee forgotten and cooled to room temperature; female musicians and feminist bands in vinyl only ( of course ); loose typewriter keys in her pockets; cracked brown leather jackets, vintage band tees; makeup-less face and messy buns; chipped black nail polish; coexist bumper sticker on a beat up 63 dodge dart; reading glasses sitting on the button of her nose, a finger shaped smudge on the right lens; concert ticket stubs, bleached shells, creased poetry slam programs, and scraps of old writing in a trinket box long forgotten in the far corner of the closet; freckles that only come out with the sun, sideways smirks and a mischievous twinkle in dark chocolate eyes; leather bound notebooks e v e r y w h e r e, blue ink stains on hands; long empty hours staring at pages and willing words to appear; nights spent alone and welcoming the solitude

WANTED CONNECTIONS

the brat pack - a close knit crew of like-minded individuals who rise above the regulars of shermer society. popular isn’t a word commonly used for this group and very likely would never be used. they’re the outcasts of society who dare to speak up for themselves and their beliefs. and bobbi loves how they challenge each other to think beyond themselves and the proverbial box which cages much of the “small minded simpletons of shermer society”. jesse shah, open

the vapid one - the epitome of what bobbi hates the most in most people. the white knight of the status quo, the personification of banality, a loathsome creature of society who coasts the mainstream and has made a happy place there. they’re very unlikely to contain an original thought, and it bothers bobbi to no end. yet she’s ardently fascinated with this cliche and despite her best efforts cannot seem to stay away. heather mcnamara

the contender - unlike the vapid one, the contender is someone that bobbi doesn’t just loath for being just another cog in society’s machine - she despises them for the way they unapologetically flaunt it in her face. these two are always at war, constantly bemoaning the other’s existence and arguing over every stupid little thing they can think of. they could probably start a heated debate over the state of the weather if they wanted to - these two can never see eye to eye, and it’s better to steer clear of them when they’re in close proximity to one another. that is, unless you want to witness the pair butting heads again. open

more to come. i’m too lazy to think of anything else ahfiehapfheiapfhea

[batfleckwayne]

Saw a post earlier about curating your own experience online (a sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with) and it got me thinking about how you should basically apply the Marie Kondo method to your online experience.

Obviously you can’t apply it perfectly because decluttering and existing on social media are different things, but the general principle of getting rid of things that don’t spark joy can pretty easily be applied.

When it comes to curating your online experience, you should strive to make it the best possible situation for yourself. If that means unfollowing an account that you no longer like than so be it. If that means muting hundreds of words (or tags, or accounts depending on the platform), so be it. If that means liberally using the block button so you never have to see a particular person’s content, so be it. There’s no reason you should have to see anything online that doesn’t spark joy.

This applies to the content you make too. Maybe you’ve been writing fanfic for a particular fandom for years and one day, doing so no longer sparks joy. That’s fine, you don’t owe it to anybody to write fanfic for something that doesn’t bring you joy. The same can be said for all other kinds of fanworks.

Essentially, keep your online spaces as places that make you happy. There’s always going to be assholes around that for whatever reason, make it their mission to try and take that joy away, but if you’ve already put the effort in to create a space for yourself that sparks joy, it becomes a whole lot harder for them to do so.

[valeriemperez]

Why are people acting brand new? Barry hasn’t really pouted in S4, he was due 🙄 I just hope that he finally figures out that his “no kill” rule is his rule and he shouldn’t expect others to abide by it. It’s also not practical in every situation? Questions: Why is KF gone? Is she coming back? I liked her better than CS! Is Joecile’s baby being born by the finale? What’s going to happen with Harry and could it be a factor in S5? When do we find out what The Enlightenment actually is? 1/2

LMAO, I guess Barry does pout at least once a season. And when he pouts, he tends to ask Iris for space or otherwise be sullen. I loved seeing them as a team earlier in the ep, though, so I hope we get more of that next week. And I don’t mind Barry’s no-kill rule at all, but I’d like him to explore it more in-depth.

Devoe stole her powers using Melting Pot’s powers, so I imagine they can get her back by having Devoe touch Caitlin again. I do imagine Cecile will give birth in the finale so that the season ends with new life, and I still think Harry can go either way. Devoe took the dark matter as Harry generated it, so that may be the end of that story or he may go dark trying to extract vengeance on Devoe.

I don’t see a part 2, but I imagine we won’t know what the Enlightenment is until Devoe tries to make it happen sadly.

I’ve never read TF comics but from what Ive seem on sm The Trial of The Flash was a big storyline and yet I feel they didn’t do it justice on the tv show. I love good courtroom drama and I was disappointed how short the story was. What do you think?

It was a big storyline, but Iris was dead for most of it so I’m not upset they changed it lmao. That being said, I agree that the trial itself went by too quickly. It should have been two episodes, and Barry should have gotten a real defense.

Tati what, if any, significance do you attribute to the purple lighting during the Iris and Marlize fight sequence? Was it just a really pretty way for them to shoot the scene or is there a deeper meaning?

To me, the significance is that STAR Labs is Iris’ space and purple is her signature color now. So it was meant to remind us of Run Iris Run and, I suppose, foreshadow the legacy that will come from Iris.

Those statements from AJK regarding Ralph make me think that he (and/or some other higher-ups) maybe thought the well was beginning to run dry when it came to Barry’s story & wanted to shift some of the focus to a new up & coming hero. Wouldn’t surprise me if there were some reservations about letting Barry have his happily ever after with Iris so “early” in the show’s run. I feel like they’re not sure where to take him now.

I have no doubt AJK was worried the well would run dry, because once Barry “wins” Iris, what’s left? That’s how his mind clearly worked. But like I said before, I think that’s also why Dawn is coming: Barry and Iris as parents is the next step, just like Candice said.

For AJK to say some mess about Ralph keeping the show on longer, it's as if he didn't have any faith in the cast he already had, including the star of the show. Do you think Todd would answer a question about any Ralph plans for next season? Is there any way to let him know we don't want anything Ralph related? Feeling very desperate right now for one of the only shows I care about besides BL and LOT. The latter is on a time out from me right now though.

Todd won’t answer on Twitter, but I’m sure he would in an interview. The only way to really let him know we don’t want more Ralph is to tweet @flashtvwriters and @chipeyt. But be careful, he’s liberal with the block button.

may i request a gif set of iris and caitlin talking about kf? i thought that was a cute and funny scene

Here you go!

Hey, I’m not sure, but I think someone copied one of your gifsets. The one you made about Iris explosive earring - they even used the same hashtag comment. I’m not sure, I just didn’t want people taking your work and making it theirs

You’re sweet to look out, but don’t worry! Theirs is a different size and coloring, I imagine the similar hashtag was just a coincidence.

[ohthehypocrisy]

Diancie for Pokken Tournament DX!

As you might know, I’m rewriting my old Pokken writeups before I do more new pokemon. These are easy for me as I’ve already outlined a basic structure of the pokemon’s playstyle, but most of the work comes from fleshing out the pokemon in-depth.

I’ve already done one for Claydol. Glalie is gonna be next, but to be honest, I don’t know if I’ll be able to rewrite Aerodactyl. At least, not in the same way I had done before.

Enough rambling. This is the Jewel Pokemon, here for Pokken DX!

Diancie’s movepool consists primarily of defensive moves. From Stealth Rock and Light Screen, to Diamond Storm and Smack Down, Diancie has the ability to fortify itself through its moves and restricts the opponents access to options. Diancie is no slouch on the offensive end, though, with moves such as Moonblast, Stone Edge, Earth Power, and Psychic giving it plenty of projectile options. Its stats are also pretty balanced, sporting 150 base defenses and 100 offenses, which is balanced out by a low Base 50 HP and Speed. By employing its power to wall opponents out, Diancie leans itself towards the Technical playstyle.

Now, before we list the Field Phase moves as I usually do, I must explain Diancie’s most important pokemon move of all, Stone Edge. In both phases, Neutral A is Stone Edge, and summons a thin pink sword of light from Diancie’s tiny hands. The sword itself is no bigger than its body, so it adds a little bit of reach to Diancie’s attacks. This is important because this move changes many of Diancie’s attacks, and trades their safety for ending lag. Pressing A again will have Diancie stab the ground with the sword, causing a pink blade to erupt from under the opponent. This attack is also laggy and can be guarded with decent timing, but the blade will reach a jumping opponent (it will not reach opponents with double jumps).

Diancie’s Neutral Y in Field Phase is Rock Throw. Diancie will throw two small rocks overhead in an arc towards the opponent. This move can be charged and will increase the distance of Rock Throw. If used next to Stealth Rock, Diancie can use this move repeatedly consuming the available rocks. If Stone Edge is in Diancie’s hands, it’ll toss the sword instead. Charging this move increases the power. A thrown Stone Edge will break an opponents Guard.

Diancie’s Side Y is Stealth Rock. As Diancie dashes to the side, it will send five floating rocks that stop and float after a short distance. These rocks maintain an active hitbox and will not disappear unless the move is used again or when they hit the opponent. Only five rocks can be out for each Diancie and new ones will replace the old ones when used.

Forward Y is Ancient Power. Diancie will generate a field of rocks surrounded in a blue aura. After a while, Diancie will fire these rocks in a shotgun pattern at the opponent. The rocks travel a short distance. This attack can be charged by holding the Y button. If held, Diancie will be able to move as it is charging this attack. Moving into your active Stealth Rocks will add them to Diancie and form a sort of rotating shield of rocks, which keep their active hitbox. The more Stealth Rocks you add, the more powerful the attack becomes. This attack has armor but does not count as a Counter and can be beaten by other Counters as well.

Back Y is Smack Down.Diancie holds out a pebble with its hand, then launches it very quickly at the air above the opponent. This move is fast and if it hits a jumping opponent, it will send them straight down with a hard bounce. It is possible to followup with Stone Edge after this.

Jumping Y is Power Gem. Diancie will throw a wave of sparkling stones in a curve at the ground before it. This move coves a wide range but lacks reach. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will hold the sword straight and fire a linear beam from it. This move has more reach and power, but an enemy can sidestep this move and catch you vulnerable on landing.

X is Tackle. Diancie will lunge shoulder-first, covering a short distance, before stopping. This move has no other features but Diance can jump immediately after this move, making it a useful maneuver. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will charge a much longer distance with the edge held outward. It is much stronger, but will leave Diancie vulnerable if the opponent blocked or dodged this move. Left X or Right X will send Diancie in those directions diagonally. This move will force a Phase Shift on hit.

Jumping X is Gyro Ball. Diancie will curl itself into almost like a ball, then shoot at the ground in front of it. On miss, Diancie will bounce once before skidding to a stop. On hit, Diancie will bounce back a bit before striking a second time. You can press jump after the bounce in this instance to jump away, in the case that you hit the enemy’s shield. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will stick its sword in the ground and not bounce (even if it hits an enemy or their shield). Pressing X again here allows Diancie to attack by slashing horizontally. Charging X allows Diancie to break guard and force a Phase Shift.

Diancie’s Counter is Dazzling Gleam. Diancie glows briefly before unleashing a flash of light and sparkles all around it. This attack covers a small area around Diancie.

Field Phase Grab is Flail. On confirm, Diancie will flail its arms wildly, smacking the enemy repeatedly before headbutting them, causing a Phase Shift. Diancie cannot initiate a grab if it is holding a Stone Edge.

Duel Phase Grab is Rock Tomb. On confirm, Diancie will entomb the opponent in rocks until a spherical boulder is made. Diancie will then lift up the boulder telekinetically before slamming it into the ground, forcing a Phase Shift. Diancie cannot initiate a grab if it is holding a Stone Edge.

In Duel Phase, Neutral Y has Diancie emit a small field of sparkles from its palms directed at the opponent. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will jab the opponent with the hilt end of the sword.

When Diancie crouches, she flattens herself on the ground by laying on her front. Crouching Y has Diancie hold its hands out and cause a small pink stalagmite to erupt from the ground. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will rise up and slash upwards with the sword. Diancie can followup with Neutral X after this move.

High Y has Diancie do a back flip, its rocky bottom swinging to hit opponents with. This move can juggle an airborne opponent. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will leap upwards twirling with its sword out. In this instance, Diancie can followup with Jumping Y.

Forward Y has Diancie thrust one palm forward projecting a small pink sparkly field. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will fence and jab with the sword repeatedly. Diancie has no Back Y variation and will perform this move instead.

Jumping Y has Diancie do a front flip, holding its rocky bottom out to strike the opponent with. If Diancie has Stone Edge, you can input different directions to change this attack. Jumping Neutral Y has Diancie spin its body to slash the sword around it in a circle. Forward Y has Diancie zoom froward with its sword out. Down Y has Diancie drop to the ground and stab the earth with its sword. Up Y has Diancie face the sky and stab the air repeatedly. Diancie has no Back Y variation and will instead perform Neutral Y.

Neutral X has Diancie twirl forward and sweep with its hand, launching a short pink sparkly wave at the opponent. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will twirl forward and slash once before twirling and slashing again. Diancie has no Back X variation and will use this move instead.

Crouching X has Diancie zoom along the ground rock bottom first, sliding a fair way. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will zoom along the ground with the sword edge held outward, then followup with an overarching swing above it.

High X has Diancie rise up and dive forward with its rocky end. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will do an acrobatic flip and attack backwards, allowing it to dodge some attacks and exploit the opponents guard.

Forward X has Diancie float and rotate itself, bracing itself for impact. Diancie will then charge forward with a headbutt. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will spin with its sword and hurdle towards the opponent. Diancie will automatically charge for a short time before using this attack. Both variations of this attack can Counter Pierce.

Jumping X has Diancie dash through the air before stopping and dropping to the ground very quickly, bottom first. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will do an acrobatic flip in the air and land with a slashing blow. you can then press X again to have Diancie joust at the opponent with the blade, or hold X to power it up. Holding X can Break Guard.

As mentioned before, Diancie’s Neutral A is Stone Edge. Stone Edge increases the range and power of some of Diancie’s normal moves and can change them completely, but it causes its attacks to become laggier and susceptible to dodges. Pressing A again will have Diancie stab the ground with its sword, causing the blade to reappear under the opponent and stab them. This move is also laggy, but it’s one of only three ways to get rid of Stone Edge (the other being Rock Throw in Field Phase).

Diancie’s Forward A is Diamond Storm. What I haven’t mentioned before is that Diancie has a passive that allows it to generate a field of sparkling dust around it as the battle goes on. More of this dust will generate whenever Diancie takes damage and loses recoverable HP (meaning you cannot exceed a certain amount by recovering HP and taking damage). This dust does not come into play until you use this move. When used, Diancie will forfeit all recoverable HP and forge a field of diamonds around it before launching it in a wave pattern. The more dust and recoverable HP you have, the more powerful this move is (the hitbox size does not change aside from aesthetics). This attack can become extremely powerful at the very end of a round, but it can also be used liberally throughout the match for the same damage output (with the exception of using Rock Polish below). This move has Armor just like Chandelure’s Overheat. When used, this move resets to base damage and must be increased by generating dust. This move is the same in both Field and Duel Phase, with the exception that it can reach airborne opponents because of the size of the attack in Duel Phase.

Diancie’s Back A is Rock Polish. Diancie will spin very quickly before shaking off some dust as it comes to a stop. This move grants Diancie with a short ten second Speed Boost. Diancie will automatically generate dust when using this move but forfeits all recoverable HP to do so. If Diancie has no recoverable HP, Diancie can still receive the speed boost and generate some dust (this is how you can exceed Diamond Storm’s normal damage output). If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will use Sharpen instead. Diancie run its hand along the blade of its sword and give itself an Attack Boost. You can’t generate dust with this move. This move is functionally identical in both phases.

Diancie’s Jumping A is Moonblast. Diancie will hold its hands up and generate a ball of light before launching it at the opponent. Diancie will float in a direction depending on where you jumped to using this move, but otherwise Diancie will hold still while charging this attack. Because of the angle of this move, an opponent can stand close to Diancie as it is using this move. However, Moonblast has an active hitbox as it is charging and will deal multiple hits before Diancie launches it. Moonblast will explode in a ball of light on contact with an opponent or the ground. If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will use one hand instead, halving the size and power of Moonblast, but changes the direction to diagonally downward when fired. This move is functionally identical in both phases.

Diancie’s Duel Phase Up A is Rock Slide. Diancie will throw a small rock up into the air, capable of hitting an opponent. Regardless, soon after, an avalanche of rocks will fall and land on both of Diancie’s sides (there’s a blind spot directly above Diancie, but it’s difficult to exploit this). If Diancie has Stone Edge, it will throw the sword upward instead, capable of hitting an opponent. A rain of Stone Edge swords will then fall all around Diancie. This move will relinquish Diancie of Stone Edge. The Stone Edge version of this move can break Guard, but cannot Counter Pierce.

Diancie’s Duel Phase Down A is Earth Power. Diancie will raise a hand up before striking the ground with it, causing the earth to erupt (this move’s startup is intentionally identical to Rock Slide). This move can Counter Pierce. On hit, it will send both Diancie and the opponent upwards, allowing Diancie to followup with its aerial moves. This move can hit jumping opponents, but will miss those with double jumps.

Diancie’s Burst Mode is Mega Evolution. When activated, Diancie will hold two Stone Edges in its hands and will always have them. Many of Diancie’s moves change, but for the sake of brevity, I will only list the most notable differences. Mega Diancie will use itself as a long blade for some attacks like Duel Phase Jumping Y and High X. Diancie still maintains significant ending lag when using these moves, but still maintains Burst Armor (Allows the pokemon to ignore weak attacks in Burst Mode). Diamond Storm will always do max damage when used. Diancie will use swords in its grabs, changing them visually aside from increased damage. 

Diancie’s Burst Attack is DIAMOND EDGE. Upon input, Diancie will summon multiple Stone Edges that float around itself before assuming the position with both of its own swords. It will then lunge at the opponent very quickly and deliver a slash. This move can only be performed on the ground. On confirm, Diancie will summon a rain of swords to strike the ground around the target, pinning them in place. Then, Mega Diancie will glow brightly and turn itself into a sword, with the bladed edge jutting out from below it. Diancie will then dramatically swing itself at the opponent repeatedly before delivering a final overhead swing. Upon returning to the battlefield, Diancie will receive a Defense Boost while the opponent receives a Defense Drop.

Diancie’s Synergy Gauge builds moderately fast. Diancie’s Burst Mode lasts a moderately long while. However, Diancie will receive extra damage from attacks (1.5x more to be exact). Diancie’s Burst Attack deals moderately weak damage (not the weakest, but below average).

In High Stance, Diancie can recover from Stat Drops faster.

Diancie’s strengths are obvious, even as a Technical fighter. Its ability to fight with Stone Edge can change the opponent’s ability to approach, especially with all of the advantages it grants Diancie. A savvy player can use Diancie’s moves to attack from all distances, limiting an opponents defensive options. Diancie rewards smart players with its high damage output when using Stone Edge, and a Diancie player can choose to play safe by not using Stone Edge at all. The ability to switch Stone Edge on and off forces the opponent to adapt and keep track of Diancie’s options.

However, one constant remains true; Diancie’s moves become unsafe with Stone Edge in hand. If the opponent guards well, they can exploit Diancie’s guard and deal big damage. Even without Stone Edge, Diancie must play cautiously. Just because its moves are safer doesn’t mean it can attack relentlessly, especially since its moves are very weak without Stone Edge. Diancie must switch its playstyle repeatedly and learn to take opportunities when given to it, as a well placed Diamond Storm can win a game for you. Diancie has many tools for you to abuse, but it’s up to you to use them properly.

This has been a rewrite of Diancie’s Pokken Moveset. In addition to Glalie, Claydol, and Aerodactyl (linked above), I have also done Registeel, Torterra, and Nihilego. Glalie will be next, and after that, Aerodactyl. I’ll start doing original writeups afterward, but don’t be afraid to shoot me suggestions for a pokemon you’d like to see in Pokken. Thanks for reading!