#Who Trolled Amber?

[originalleftist]

Over half of anti-Heard tweets were bots or paid trolls, many linked to Saudi government bots.

"According to an investigation by Tortoise Media, which examined more than one million tweets, more than 50 per cent of anti-Heard messages in the run-up to the 2022 defamation case were "inauthentic' - either from automated "bot" accounts or people hired to attack the actress."

"Bradley Hope, author of a book on Bin Salman, told the podcast that the pro-Depp tweets emanating from Saudi Arabia appear to be produced by "flies", a name for Saudi bot accounts."

"An intelligence professional who tracks online disinformation campaigns, said there was only a "0.1 per cent chance" that the hate directed at Heard was from genuine Depp fans.

The investigation also claims that bot networks in Thailand and Spain tweeted large numbers of pro-Depp messages."

"...more than 100 Twitter accounts sent 1,000 identical messages at exactly the same time to any company that had worked with Heard, reading: "This brand supports domestic violence against men."'

"The makers of the podcast argue that the criticism of Heard could have affected the jury in the 2022 US defamation trial which found in favour of Depp."

"So, if you couldn't tell the difference between a real-life Johnny Depp fan and a bot in 2022, then you probably won't be able to tell a Russian troll from a US election official in 2024. And that represents a serious problem for the security of our democracies."-Alexi Mostrous, presenter of the podcast.

"Johnny Depp and the Saudi Embassy did not respond to Tortoise's request for comment."

[justiceamberheard]

''Who Trolled Amber'' podcast

The highlights of each episode from the podcast. You can listen to it on Spotify, Youtube etc. EPISODE 1.

The outcome of the trial definitely damaged #METOO movement;

There were 80k of anti Amber Heard tweets, more than anti JD tweets even though AH was the one who accused him of abuse;

There's no way it was all organic, they either bought bots or those were real people pretending to be JD's supporters;

According to Jennifer Robinson, one of AH lawyers from the UK trial, Amber'd never wanted to relieve what had happened to her during the relationship;

Jennifer thought it'd be easier to win the US than in the UK;

The information about bots were thrown out way before the trial hence Ron Shnell couldn't talk about in the courtroom; EPISODE 2.

According to Ron Shnell there was a bot campaign against AH but he wasn't 100% sure because the judge struck out that research;

Kathryn Arnold shared that AH wasn't allowed to be a part of Aquaman 2 promotion tour and was banned from posting anything Aquaman related;

KA also said that AH couldn't audition, no one would hire her and that the agents were told not to touch her[AH]; EPISODE 3

The podcast creators asked experts(Kai-Cheng Yang) to check the date that was given by Ron Shnell;

According to the data: many accounts with no followers had tweets with more than 5k retweets/likes; hundreds of identical tweets were posted in one day; many accounts liked 400k tweets; 10k of identical comments were left under AH youtube videos; many accounts change their tune(from right wing Chile politics) and out of nowhere started to post pro JD tweets; half oh the data/accounts/tweets were generated by inauthentic accounts and then the real accounts started to engage with those tweets etc. it all started in November 2020 when JD lost the UK case and was fired from Fantastic Beasts; EPISODE 4

Cameron Herrin case was mentioned, more specifically the sudden interest and pro CH posts on TikTok asking to reduce his sentence and that he is innocent. Most of the accounts that were spreading those posts were from Middle East; EPISODE 5

Some Arabic twitter accounts suddenly started to tweet Pro JD tweets in English during and after the US trial;

The friendship betweet Johnny Depp and prince Mohammed was mentioned(him financing JD directorial movie Modi); EPISODE 6

Adam Waldman worked for Lavrov as a consultant for years(2010-2017);

During the deposition Adam Waldman refused to answer more than 70 questions;

Alexi Mostrous tried contacting ''the internet journalists'' aka TUG and ThatBrianFella but they didn't answer; he also pointed out that the audios that were posted by ThatBrianFella were clearly edited(we know);

Mostrous also tried to call Adam Waldman but he didn't pick up the phone and 25 minutes later posted a tweet:

“He[Adam Waldman] attacked witnesses, he attacked us (legal team)..unlike anything I have ever seen from a lawyer” said Jennifer Robinson. ''Amber Heard wrote an Op-ed for Washington Post which is a very respected publication and Johnny Depp's name isn't in it. It told to survivors if this can be done to a woman whose actually well-known and well-established person in the industry, it's gonna be even worse for you.'' All-in-All, it's clear as day that Waldman was behind the bot campaign against Amber. We've known that but it's good that a popular podcast researched about it and shed a light on it. Plus it's always great to see JD fans being nervous and panicky.

[anthroxlove]

"I don’t know what I was expecting when I started to listen to the first episode of Who Trolled Amber?, a new podcast from the impressive Tortoise Media. But I didn’t expect to end up in Saudi Arabia, learning about Jack Sparrow’s bromance with Prince Mohammed bin Salman. I also didn’t expect to be examining my own failure to pay attention to a trial that has so greatly impeded, if not actively reversed, the progress made by the MeToo movement around sexual assault."

[unironicallycringe]

If you're interested in learning about the horrors of disinformation campaigns and how effective they are, you should check out Who Trolled Amber. It investigates what the hell happened with the massive online push against Amber Heard and why a lot of us felt like we were living in the upside-down.

[brawlcloud]

did you know that bot armies associated with the saudi government started tweeting support for Johnny Depp after he lost his job on fantastic beasts? and that Johnny Depp is close personal friends with prince Mohammad bin salman?

[idolision]

This is Johnny Depp supporters. I call them 'Depp Swine'.

They thrive on lies, fabrication and deliberate disinformation.

They misuse resources just like their wifebeating idol.

They also cannot read because the accusation was not about filmmaking.

And this is not the first time they've misused Community Notes.

[luverine]

Orc (Leif) Blacksmith x fem! Hunter! Reader /P.4

MDNI // 3.1k words // smuttt // meet mom and get boned in the woods?? // 18+ // Leif is a sweetheart // no proof read // Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

It is cold.

Winter came like a ravenous beast, its icy breath cutting through the air. Winds howled with relentless fury, and flurries of snow whipped around, making travel arduous and blinding. For you, it was a challenge to keep moving, for you-

Leif, massive and impervious to the cold, seemed hardly affected. Wrapped in nothing more than a loincloth and a fur-lined cape, he was sweating, of all things. Yet, his complaints filled the frosty air.

“My legs are killing me,” he groaned, trudging along with a scowl.

You shot him a look of disbelief, bundled head to toe in thick furs and linens. In your current state, you probably looked more like a beast. Crossing your arms, you raised an incredulous brow at him.

“Really?” you grunted. “We’re barely halfway through, and you’re whining about your legs?”

Leif pouted, his broad olive shoulders sagging. “It’s not my fault! I didn’t know we’d be walking this much.”

You rolled your eyes as his grumbling continued, though the sight of an inn up ahead brought relief. Warm light spilled from its windows, accompanied by the muffled cacophony of voices and music. Inside, the place was alive- rowdy patrons danced and sang, while others brawled or swayed drunkenly with half-empty mugs. A chaotic but welcome reprieve from the storm.

Leif hesitated, his hulking frame shifting uneasily. “Uh… we could keep going,” he muttered, his amber eyes darting toward the boisterous crowd.

“Not a chance,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m exhausted, and a drink sounds like exactly what I need.”

Before he could protest, you slipped into the throng, navigating the chaos toward the bar. Leif, meanwhile, hugged the wall near the entrance, his size drawing curious glances. You spotted him there, his brows knitted, his jaw tight as he scanned the room.

“What’s wrong?” you asked when you finally rejoined him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I just want to get to the room,” he said, his voice low and strained. His eyes, usually steady, flitted nervously over the crowd before settling on yours. “I don’t… like this.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine. I just need to sleep,” he murmured, already moving toward the back of the inn where the check-in desk sat.

You followed, stepping up to a small troll who was engrossed in a tattered book. He barely glanced up before breaking into a toothy grin.

“Room for two?” you asked.

“Good timing,” the troll said, snapping the book shut. “All I’ve got left are twins.”

You and Leif exchanged a sigh before handing over three coins. With a jingle of keys, the troll waved you off toward the stairs.

The room was cramped, with two tiny beds that seemed more like oversized cushions. You dropped your sack and bow onto one of them, laughing as you tested its size. “If I can barely fit on this, you might as well call it a pillow.”

Leif scowled, his shoulders brushing the doorframe as he stepped inside. “It’s… small,” he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation.

“Small’s an understatement.” You kicked off your boots and flopped onto the bed, ignoring its protests under your weight. “But it’s warm, and it’s better than freezing out there.”

Leif sat on the edge of his bed, his broad frame making it creak ominously. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. The tension hadn’t left his face.

“You sure you’re okay?” you asked, softer this time.

He nodded, though his voice wavered. “I’m good. Just… tired.”

Sleep was elusive. The beds were too small, the room felt suffocating, and the creeping cold made it worse. You shifted uncomfortably, letting out a frustrated groan before sitting up.

“Leif, get up,” you muttered, nudging him. “I’m pushing the beds together.”

He grunted, barely awake, but propped himself up to help. Together, you managed to slide the beds closer, the narrow gap between them disappearing.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. You shrugged and lay back down. “Alright, let’s try this again. Sweet dreams, yeah?”

Leif paused for a moment, his voice soft and low. “You too, měsíční svit.”

The words lingered in the air, his hand hesitantly reaching for yours.

Without thinking, you took it.

A faint blush bloomed across his cheeks, his expression warm yet flustered. Little did you know, in his traditions, this simple gesture meant far more. To him, you were already something more than friends- closer to love, he could feel it.

As slumber finally took over the both of you dreams of your tender touch against his hard muscled skin played in his head.

•••

The morning was brisk, the air sharp as you hurriedly snatched a few small loaves of bread before stepping out into the cold desert of winter. The snow had grown deeper overnight, soft drifts crunching underfoot. It barely reached the calf of the towering orc beside you, yet for you, it climbed nearly to your knees, each step a small struggle.

Huffing against the biting chill, you glanced up at him- his imposing frame cloaked in the muted tones of the season. His olive-green skin darkened faintly as your eyes met, a hint of bashfulness betraying the admiration he’d been trying to play off.

“Feeling alright, big guy?” you teased, your breath fogging in the frosty air.

He chuckled, a deep and rumbling sound that warmed the cold around you. “Better than alright,” he said, his tusked grin widening. “I can’t wait to introduce you to my mother- she’ll adore you.”

His excitement was contagious as he embarked into tales of his childhood, his voice animated as he shared silly misadventures and endearing memories from years past. The frigid morning seemed to fade as his laughter echoed across the snow.

•••

As the journey drew to a close, you found yourself approaching a village called Solheimar. The crisp winter air carried the faint crackle of fire and the hum of celebration. People draped in thick furs and adorned with intricately braided hair bustled about, their laughter and shouts mingling with the melodies of a barmaid’s song. Flames leapt skyward from bonfires, casting flickering light over axe-bearing men and women who drank and danced in the frosty night.

“Vikings,” you murmured, glancing at Leif for confirmation. But his gaze was already fixed on you, a proud gleam in his eyes. He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the scene.

“This is my homeland!” he declared, his voice warm with emotion. “Isn’t it breathtaking? I missed the traditions here- there’s always something to celebrate.”

Looking around, you take in the tall wooden structures, their walls adorned with intricately carved designs that weave together like the threads of an old story.

“Your home is truly a sight,” you say, turning to Leif. “Why would you ever leave a place like this for the quiet little village we claimed?”

A sigh escaped his lips, a cloud of breath misting in the icy air. “I never really belonged,” he admitted, his voice heavy with a quiet ache. “Even with my mother, I was always… different, never truly kin to the others.”

His words settled over you like a familiar weight, stirring something deep within. You knew that feeling all too well- the ache of being out of place in your own land. But unlike him, you had refused to leave. Your home was yours, no matter how it tried to push you away.

Your gaze softened as you studied him. His face, his lips- dangerous and alluring with those tusk-like teeth. His skin, dark olive and rich, framed his features like a masterpiece. And those lips, full and plump- oh.

You tore your eyes away, but not before catching the faint sparkle in his, a flicker of something tender as he laid bare his memories and old wounds.

“Leif…”

His bourbon eyes pounce upon yours, “You belong anywhere you go you seem to make it better.” You look away, unable to hold contact to such an intense feeling.

A smile crosses his face, no trace of melancholy anymore. “Thank you můj měsíčku.” Tears glaze over his sight but are blinked away before they fall.

•••

The night was filled with rambling stories and bursts of laughter, ale loosening tongues as they learned more about each other.

“So, let me get this straight- you ate rocks as a child?”

“No, no! It wasn’t the rocks, it was the salt on them! They were salty!”

“Uh-huh,” you snorted, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re telling me you licked salty rocks for fun?”

“Not for fun- okay, maybe a little for fun.”

The both of you erupted in laughter again before the second leaned back smugly.

“Well, I used to hunt with my bare hands.”

“…You make me nervous.”

•••

You were woken by the warm sun creeping over the horizon and the murmur of townsfolk already busy with morning chores. Turning to your right, you spotted Leif sprawled on the cobblestones outside the pub, snoring softly.

“Damn it, Leif, get up. We’ve got to move,” you muttered, giving the brutish orc a firm tug on his arm.

With a low groan, he stirred, blinking groggily at his surroundings. It all came rushing back- the pub, the ale, and how thoroughly you both got swilled.

Leif sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as a grin crept across his face. Matka. His heart swelled at the thought. Soon, you’d meet her soon, you’d be family, if she approved… which she would.

“We should not have drank so much my head feels like it’s gonna pop-“

Leif laughed off your complaint and patted your head, “I forgot small humans can’t dunk as much- I’m surprised you kept up.”

You groan and pick yourself off the graveled ground.

…

The walk to Leif’s family home was quiet, the frost-laden village waking in slow ripples as sunlight kissed the rooftops. Leif carried himself with unusual tension, his broad shoulders straight, his stride purposeful. You could tell he was nervous, though he tried to mask it.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence. “What’s she like?”

“Matka?” Leif’s amber eyes softened, and a soft smile touched his lips. “She’s… strong. Wise. And terrifying when she wants to be.” He chuckled, but there’s a trace of pride in his voice was clear. “But she’s also kind. She’ll like you.”

“I hope you're right,” you murmured, the weight of his words settling over you. The idea of meeting the woman who had raised someone like Leif made your stomach twist with nervous anticipation.

As you approached the outskirts of the village, a sturdy longhouse came into view, its walls adorned with intricate carvings of wargs, moons, and fierce warriors. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the scent of roasting meat mingled with the crisp winter air.

The door swung open before you even reached it, revealing a tall Vakyriecwoman with streaks of silver in her brown hair. Her eyes, a piercing shade of amber like Leif’s, locked onto you with an assessing gaze. Despite the lines of age on her face, her presence was commanding, her posture regal.

“Matka,” Leif greeted, his voice warm but measured.

The woman’s gaze shifted to her son, softening immediately. “Leif,” she said, her voice rich and melodic. She stepped forward, pulling him into a firm embrace before holding him at arm’s length. “You’ve grown even more, my boy. And you’ve brought a guest.”

You offered a polite smile, bowing your head slightly. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.”

Her eyes flicked over you once more, sharp but not unkind. “You must have a name.”

You introduced yourself, and her expression softened further, recalling his letters. “Welcome to our home. Come inside- both of you.”

The interior of the longhouse was warm and inviting, the hearth crackling with life. Tapestries lined the walls, depicting battles, celebrations, and family lineage. A table was already set with bread, meat, and mugs of steaming broth.

Over the meal, Matka asked you endless questions- about your journey, your skills, and your family. Her gaze never wavered, and her attention felt both flattering and slightly unnerving.

Leif, however, watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and quiet approval. When his mother finally leaned back, a satisfied smile spread across her face.

“You’re strong,” she declared. “And clever. You’ll need both to handle my son.”

Leif sputtered, his face flushing as you laughed softly.

Matka’s smile turned sly. “I like you.”

Leif felt as if his heart would burst, to him you became a part of the family- it couldn’t make him more content.

As the night went on with story’s of his childhood and tales of battles, Bodil- Leif’s Matka called it for the night and insisted on residing in the orcs old bedroom.

Unable to deny the offer, you and Leif agree but before you head to the bedroom to finally get a good night's rest.

“Come with me?” He asks looking fondly into your eyes, holding a hand out.

You let out a tired huff and take a hold on his larger olive hand, rough from his hard work.

The snow had stopped, leaving the world blanketed in a pristine sheet of white. You and Leif ventured out to explore the nearby woods. The quiet was soothing, the crunch of snow underfoot the only sound as you walked side by side.

Leif seemed more at ease now, the earlier tension replaced by a quiet contentment. “She likes you,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You smirk at what he obviously stated. “I noticed.”

“She’s never liked anyone I’ve brought home before,” he added, glancing at you.

You stopped, turning to face him. “How many people have you brought home?”

Leif hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Not… many,” he admitted. “But none of them ever were like you...”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking in. Your cheeks warmed, and you found yourself averting your gaze.

“Leif-”

He stepped closer, his broad hand gently tilting your chin so your eyes met his. The vulnerability in his expression was unexpected, his usual confidence replaced by something softer.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice rough but earnest. “You’ve changed everything for me.”

Before you could respond, his lips brushed against yours- tentative at first, then deepening as his hands settled on your waist. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with unspoken promises.

When you finally broke apart, tusks brushing against lips, our breaths mingling in the cold air, you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if your mother approves…”

Leif laughed, the sound rich and warm. “You’re impossible,” he said, his forehead resting against yours.

“Would you have it any other way?”

No, I like you just as you are,” Leif whispers against your cheek, his breath warm, a stark contrast to the biting cold surrounding you.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.” His hands cradle your face, rough but gentle. “You drive me mad.”

Leif leans closer, his whiskey-colored eyes locked with yours, the intensity leaving you breathless. Your voice is soft, trembling with vulnerability. “If you’ll have me… let me have you.”

Your smaller hand rests atop his, your touch like a promise. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Please.”

Tears glisten in his amber eyes, the sight tugging at your heart. “Leif, what’s-” Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours in a kiss so eager that you stumble backward, landing softly in the snow.

Leif follows, his powerful frame kneeling over you, his arms caging you in a desperate embrace. The world disappears as he holds you close, his warmth chasing away the chill. His grip is unyielding, as if letting go would shatter the moment.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice deep with emotion. His gaze burns with admiration, a deep blush spreading across his sharp features.

You relax into his hold, a soft smile playing on your lips. “I trust you with my life, Leif,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your fingers weave into his dark, dreaded hair, tugging gently.

A strained whine escapes him as he deepens the kiss, pulling you onto his lap. His large hands settle on your hips, guiding your movements as you grind against him, the friction igniting a fire between you.

“I need you,” he rasps, his voice breaking. His hands fumble with the buttons of your pants, trembling with urgency. The cold air bites at your exposed skin, but the heat between you burns hotter.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, his fingers slipping into your slick folds. His touch sends shocks of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, goddess, you feel… incredible.”

You shudder, your breaths ragged as he pushes a thick finger inside you. His touch is careful, reverent, but it drives you wild. Your moans spill freely, your body arching into his.

“Leif,” you cry out, trembling as the pressure builds. “I’m going to- I need you, please-”

You come undone around his fingers, your climax washing over you in waves. The intensity leaves you reeling, your body quaking as you clutch onto him. He looks at you with awe, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed.

“I’m ready for you, my sunshine,” you whisper, your voice breathy but firm. Your hands wander beneath his shirt, caressing the hard planes of his chest, your fingers teasing his sensitive skin.

Leif whimpers, his resolve faltering. With shaking hands, he unbuttons his own pants, freeing his thick, blushed, aching length. “I’ll go slow,” he promises, his voice husky as he gazes down at you.

You nod, pulling him close and pressing butterfly kisses along his neck. His broad shoulders tremble as he lines himself up, sliding into you inch by inch. The stretch is exquisite, and the wet sounds of your joining make heat bloom across your skin.

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his movements slow and deliberate. “I… I won’t last.”

His moans only spur you on, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. Each thrust brings you closer, your cries mingling in the cold night air. The world fades, leaving only the two of you, your passion raw and all-consuming.

As you both reach the edge, your release crashes over you together, the tension snapping into a wave of pure ecstasy. Leif buries his face in your neck, tusks brushing against skin, his breaths ragged, his body trembling against yours.

When the night grows quieter, Leif tenderly dresses your spent body, his touches filled with care. He lifts you into his arms, carrying you through the snow toward the safety of home.

There, by the crackling fire, he holds you close, his hulking frame a fortress of warmth and love. As sleep claims him, a soft smile graces his lips, contentment etched into his features.

Leif knows he has won your heart, and hold you love, just like him.

You’re his měsíční svit.

A/N: Take this as an apology for not posting in over two weeks ‹𝟹 writers blog kicked my ass. Happy New Year!!

Likes, reblogs, comments appreciated ‹𝟹 ˳ ׄ ⟡  .

[ms-hells-bells]

the accusation that tortoise media (the ones who exposed the neil gaiman accusations) is a conservative outlet is even more ridiculous when you realise that not only did they produce who trolled amber?, the podcast looking into the foreign and domestic influencing of the online discourse surrounding the depp v heard case, but they also produced visible women by caroline criado perez, which talked about the sexism via male as default in most of society from playgrounds to drugs to cars.

ah yes, conservatism, famous for defending unpopular female victims and discussing class level misogyny in all its forms.

[whereserpentswalk]

There was an abandoned church where the faeries used to come out, tucked away in one of those neighborhoods in the city where only residents ever go. It was a beautiful stone building, covered in vines and ivy, half broken, resting between the corner stores and brownstones. They say it's so old that nobody even remembers the name of the god they worshipped there.

And there used to be faeries there. They would come out quite frequently. Nobody maintained the place, but it was ruined enough so you could just walk in through where the door used to be. And you could see them there, the kobolds who would sing their ancient songs in languages long forgotten. And the hollow backed women who would dance in the silver moonligh, and who turned men who tried to touch them into trees. There where spirits who'd look like dragonflies one momment, and than little winged people the next. And great dire trolls at times would come out and brew strange drinks from grass and root. There were mothmen who flew in the skies above the ancient church, looking down with big yellow eyes. There where witches who'd grant strange requests for strange prices, and who'd look like women from a far, and great mantises when near. And there were even darker things, faceless men, and black eyed girls, who'd come, but they never harmed a soul on those old church grounds.

They say it became a place where people who were grateful for such things would come. Urban sorcerers, and cryptid hunters, unmarketable artists, and outcasts and members of forgotten subcultures would come to. It was mostly just a place people in the city knew about, people who knew enough about the fae, people who had respect for the fae. A few faeries would let themselves show up in dim photographs, perhaps to appear on somebody's blog, but most people who would go there knew to ask first. And they say that. In her gratefulness to the ruins, for being a place where the children of Odin and the children of Gaia had found peace, the queen of the autumn faeries had gifted them a magic sword, that shined like sunset amber, planted forever in the ruins of the church's alter.

And once there was a magical sword there, something valuable there, the city decided it had to take notice. It wasn't just some worthless stone anymore, it was something with more money behind it now. They transfered the ruins' ownership from the underfunded historical society, to a successful real-estate company, who would know how to handle it well, and perhaps bring in some tourists.

And suddenly, things began to change. See, the sword needed to be well protected of course, so there were security cameras all over the place to keep out robbers, and guards of course to stand around and yell at people, and of course perhaps to fire iron bullets at any faeries who thought about hurting humans who wanted to be free to touch them and pet them and take pictures without consequences. And there were metal detectors of course, and there needed to be a closing time because suddenly there was a staff that had to be payed.

And somehow there were less and less faeries then, and the people who had used to come so often had gone away too. But that didn't matter, they still needed to turn a profit, and they had started advertising it, so soon tourists with their fancy cameras and expectations, and families with little children on leashes and dogs in their strollers, and fourteen year old boys who giggled because faerie could mean gay, all started to come, and waited on line to see the minority of faeries who were still there. And soon the walls of the old church had signs and ads and the walls were painted a green because the company thought grey was an ugly color, and the entrance had all those little marketable t-shirts and plushes for people to buy.

And soon there were no more faeries. They didn't want to come. The sword had turned black.

They say the last faeries to leave were the toughest of them, and that they didn't like the new type of guest, trolls would put human bones in their last stews, and witches would curse anyone who took pictures of them, and the black eyed girls and faceless men finally dragged people into faeland never to return. But even they left eventually, all of them did. They say the sword healed when it was bright and amber, but when it was black it's magic was no weaker, but it killed, anyone who touched the black sword would rot away. They say other magical creatures, meaner ones, found good homes in the church when it became so filled with the company's things, blood drinking vampires, and howling ghosts, and deal making devils, found the place to be a perfect hunting spot. The faeries never came back, and the church lost its profitability, they tried to rip it down, and use the land for some pretty shot or restaurant, but they could never clear the foundation, nobody could lift the sword.

[samueldeckerthompson]

"Your body, my choice!"

Are real men saying that? By "real men", I simply mean actual men in your real life who you know? So, are they? I'm genuinely curious. If I saw a man say this to a woman then we'd definitely have a problem as the meme suggests, and I'd likely mutter "Your forehead, my choice" while digging in ... but at this point I haven't seen it, read it, or heard it from a real person in my life.

The one guy who started it is a notorious online troll, and anyone saying it online is also likely a troll or a bot. I have not seen a single real life male, one that I know, say it or post it. It seems to be only real women, and now myself, a poet, (so basically a woman) who are spreading this nonsense, which kind of falls into the game the trolls are playing, where our reaction is their reward, it's what they strive for.

So, is this really news?

Does this quote represent the actual population of men?

No.

Or If you think so, do the most awful things said by women represent all women?

If Amber Heard lied and literally $hit the bed, does that mean all or most women do?

Is it news to you that there are trolls on social media who say awful things to farm for your engagement?

No.

So ... fuggin' relax.

You all are driving yourselves towards a nervous breakdown.

In the incredibly rare instance that you happen to live in a state that does not allow for abortion, have no means or funds to travel to get one, have nobody who would help you, and really really want/need to get one, then just let me know, I'll come give you a ride just as I would for my own daughters.

Otherwise, like I said, you'll be fine, more states will codify abortion rights, and you should try to move out of the ones who won't to let their local economy feel the ramifications of that, but life goes on, and in about 2.5 years we can once again ramp up to the frenzy of using wedge issues to drive the vote by acting like the other side is full of morons for having different opinions on them, and we'll elect someone new, and move forward.

Trump will be here for four years, not more, he's not all powerful and he'll die soon anyway, so, for self-preservations sake, you need to find a way to take better care of yourselves emotionally than this.

Take a deep breath, accept this timeline in our multi-verse as being the one you were conscripted to deal with,

and

deal

with

it.

-Samuel Decker Thompson

***ride offered is subject to numerous conditions, including, but not limited to, the contradiction between your belief that everything on the interweb is true, and the reality that most of it is not.

[harryforvogue]

something from a fic i'll never write. i've been reading way too much about faeries, changelings, and heirs

***

She spots him as soon as she enters through the threshold, eyes snagging with his. He looks away quickly though, and then glances over his shoulder to make sure the person he sees is just a trick in the light, and that her hair isn’t really billowing around her in white fans, and her eyes aren’t the color of obsidian rock found in the depths of the caves of their homeland. She knows it, however, that he’s seen her, because to the regular mortal eye, she’d subdued herself to have gentle brown eyes, hair with white highlights, and a figure that isn’t so sickly and thin.

Sauntering her way through the crowded bar, she’s sure he feels her approach. His back tenses, and his handsome face contorts into a look of dread. But he doesn’t move, showing the bravery of the prince of Faerieland that he is. She fixes her blouse as she sits down on the seat beside him, resting her elbows delicately on the bar. 

“Hello.”

The man looks at her for a second too long, noticeably looking at her shoulders to find her hidden wings, before returning to his amber drink. “Sprite.” His tone is cutting, abrupt. “I’d like to be left alone.”

“Worry not. I’m not here to gloat or embarrass you, changeling heir. I’m here to welcome you to the mortal lands and ask that you speak truthfully with me. Now that you’re no longer bound by the rules of Faerieland and are able to lie of course.”

She orders herself water with a lemon wedge.

His eyes rush over to hers, dark with anger. “Do not call me that.”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her water. “What do I call you then?”

“Nothing. You stay the hell away from me.”

She clicks her tongue. “Sure, I can do that. After you do something for me. And I’m not hard to please. All I need is a vow that you’ll leave these mortals alone, and I’ll never speak to you again.” Another sip. “That is, well, until you leave me a bloody mess to clean up. Then I leave you as a bloody mess for someone else to clean up.” She smiles at him.

The man, or rather the abandoned adult changeling that would have been a false king, doesn’t say anything for a moment. He observes her as she finishes her drink and orders another one from the bar. The bartender looks at her hazily, the fog over his eyes registering a young woman who happens to be pleasantly chatting with her date at the bar. 

She’s not so sure what the mortals see when they look at this new arrival though. How good is his glamor? Is it an intentional glamor, or whatever has remained on him from his journey to mortal lands?

What she sees, though, is a man likely in his late twenties, with dark curls tucked behind his ears, in casual dark jeans, and a white shirt. Around his neck is a pendant, an ancient one that shows his heritage and his lineage. He is incredibly beautiful, as all royal faeries are.

She sits in the presence of the heir. Or now, the exiled heir. Removed from the lineage after being humiliated before the court. She’d heard about it through her spies in Faerieland. She never would have expected him here though.

He stares back at her. Clearly he’s used to seeing various different faeries, trolls, nymphs, and other woodland creatures (which she is) because he doesn’t blink an eye at her appearance. She’s long come to terms that her haggard, wild, looks cannot come close to the beauty of mortal women, but it’s nice to be seen. The heir looks at her real features, and not the ones she’s applied with glamor to look like the rest of the women in the bar.

Finally, he looks away. Looks back at his drink. “I’m not here to kill anyone.”

“That’s a relief,” she answers brightly. “Now I don’t have to kill you.”

He doesn’t answer.

She barrels on. “They call me the Queen Sprite here. Because this land is so close to the land of Faerie, many exiles and defectors come here, but their nature gets the best of them. They terrorize the mortals, often killing them. My job here is to prevent that. I’ve grown quite sentimental of the mortals.”

“And who put you in charge of that?” the heir says icily. Clearly he doesn’t want to be bothered. She doesn’t care.

“I did,” she replies. “I’ve been here for 26 years. A changeling myself. Though only 9 of those years have I been called Queen Sprite.”

“By whom?”

The heir’s lingering authority remains in his voice. He must be used to ordering about faeries and servants. She feels the pull of his magic trying to draw out a truthful answer from her.

“There’s no need for glamor,” she says. “I’ll answer any question truthfully. You’ll find it’s possible to lie here, but I will not do so. Not for a fellow changeling.”

“I am not,” the heir hisses, catching the eyes of several bargoers, “one of those.”

“You are,” she answers calmly. “Just as I am.”

“I am not like you.”

She finishes her drink and holds a hand up kindly when the bartender approaches her again, signaling she’s done with drinks of the night. “I put myself in charge. And it’s gone quite swimmingly, and it will continue to do so as long as you don’t raise your voice at me or threaten me.”

The heir’s eyes are darkened. He looks down at her with a sneer, eyebrows dipped low. His hands are in fists on the bartop. “We will have no problem as long as you quit calling me that.”

“You must have known your whole life,” she presses. “How different you are. A man in Faerieland that is more mortal than fae. And a royal. One that looks different from his family, though his internal characteristics may be similar to the King.”

“Leave the hell alone, sprite.”

She ignores him, pressing on the bruise some more. “You must have known that your abilities were all learned. That the longer you stayed in Faerie, the less human you became, and maybe you were scared at first, waiting for you to be returned to your human parents in exchange for the other changeling, but it never happened.” She shakes her head sympathetically. “Really, it’s a tragedy. Instead of being sacrificed, you were made to believe you were truly a member of the royal family. That you could in fact rule your court.”

“That is enough!” the half man half fae shouts, slamming his hand down on the bar. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’d do best to walk away before I do something we’ll both regret.”

She glamors their conversation to make it look like a lover’s spat.

“I told you not to threaten me,” she answers, tapping her long fingers on the top. “I’m not your enemy. I’m like you–”

“You are nothing like me,” he seethes. She watches him throw back his drink. “And you’d do well to remember that.”

The anger lingers in the air like a dark cloud. Instead of leaving, he sits there, gripping his glass so tight, it cracks at the rim. 

“You can’t leave,” she says. “Physically, you’ve been unable to leave the bar. I’ve watched you for three days now. The drinks don’t affect you. The people don’t affect you. All you’ve done is sit here and feel sorry for yourself.”

“I’m not tearing mortals apart limb from limb so let that be solace for you, and proof that I don’t intend to harm,” he growls.

She sits up straighter in her seat. “How do I know that? You may as well be like a ticking bomb waiting for the right moment to explode.”

“And I supposed you think you’re the diffuser?”

“I am. I told you, I’m the Queen Sprite of these lands. I’ve sat with my council and we’ve talked about it. I need to deal with you personally. You’ve got to figure out if you’re going to stay here or if you’re going to barrel your way back to Faerieland. And if you do leave, you’ll return angrier.”

“So you say my only choice is to stay here.”

She shrugs. “If that’s what you got from what I’ve just said.”

He stares at her, enraged. “You live up to your name.”

A low blow, but she swallows it gracefully. “I live up to my nature. As do you.”

She leaves then, putting some bills on the counter to pay for both her drinks and his, giving him a once over before leaving. 

***

The next day, the heir is still in the bar. He avoids her by talking to a young woman beside him. By midnight, he’s kissing her, so the sprite leaves.

***

The day after, the heir is still at the bar, in a booth now. He nurses a couple shots, knocking them back one after the other. She watches from a distance, and then approaches when he’s taken at least ten or eleven.

“You know they won’t affect you,” she tells him.

He turns his head to look at her, eyes clear. “I can snap your neck right this very moment, sprite.”

She leaves, letting him lick his wounds.

***

The following day, he sits at the bar without a drink before him. His hair is unruly, falling into his eyes. His knuckles are red and raw, which alarms her, but she soothes herself with a reminder that men do many stupid things. He could have just punched the wall in anger.

He doesn’t look like he’s been to Faerieland because his magic seems to be slipping. When she looks at him, she sees him in his usual white shirt, but sometimes when she blinks, he’s in a black shirt. 

“Hello, prince.” She sits beside him.

He turns his head to look at her. His eyes are red and filled with sorrow. “Sprite,” he answers.

“How are we feeling tonight?”

“I need to go home.”

She orders herself a drink. “I’m afraid the court isn’t home for you anymore.”

He surprises her by putting his head down on the bartop, dropping his hands to his lap. He looks younger, though more ruffled, not longer with the air of royalty. He’s looking more human, more exiled. His shirt flickers in color. 

“I was the crowned heir,” he says, voice muffled. “I was the one they wanted.”

They stay silent for sometime.

Then, the prince says, “I tried to go back. They’ve locked all the doors. Some magic I don’t know. Magic I’ve never been shown.”

“I figured they would.”

“I feel like a child. Like my parents have abandoned me again.” He raises his head to look at her. “I remember it very well. When they took me. I think the fae part of me enhances those memories. I was barely 3 years old. Pretty old for a changeling, though. But after I got over it, I adjusted to palace life so well that I..I guess I just thought…” 

He takes a deep breath, eyes golden. She wonders what his real eye color is. 

“But clearly I’ve thought wrong.”

“What is your name?” she asks him. “We always have space for new exiles.”

At the last word, he shudders, but his shoulders fall with defeat. He stares down at her for some moments before he says, “Harry.”

A ripple of magic runs through her. Half human or not, his true name willingly rolling off his tongue makes her shiver. She stares back at him with largened eyes.

“Okay,” she says carefully.

“My true name holds no weight. And despite being an exiled prince, you cannot have control over me with that name. These limits, at least, can be upheld in the mortal world..” 

Harry stands up, taking a deep, shaky breath. “Show me where you hold council, sprite. And be prepared to be dethroned.”

She stands as well, fluttering to get ahead of him as they leave the bar together. She feels a warm glow in her chest at the sight of him in the dark night, face illuminated by a weak lamp on the street.

“Welcome,” she says earnestly, “to the mortal world, your highness.”

[jmeestella]

Okay, I have never done anything like this before, But I need to get this random thought out of my system. Small analysis and thoughts of color theory in tales of arcadia: Why I think Gaylen Krel could be a real thing

I really like Gaylen Krel concept and here is a little speech about why I think it would be interesting with a very vague concept of color theory (it's actually just my my totally altered perception of reality and boredom).

(An apology if anything here sounds weird, English is not my first language).

I do not think it is necessary to say that this has spoilers for the entire saga of tales of arcadia if you haven't watched it

Some extra alert, I may be editing this constantly, since I may notice some new stuff and since my english may improve jsjs

So, there you have, the 3Below squad, as akiridions, all of them are basically blue, all equal, nothing to say here, this is clear, BUT- I think something interesting happens when they are in their human desguise: the predominant color is red.

In Aja it is easy to see this in her shirt and shoes, the only blue element is her jeans, For Varvatos it's a little less obvious, but both his shoes and his jacket are also red (His pants are a kind cream color (?), which like red is a warm color, the only cool color element is his shirt), and then we have Krel, basically all his color palette is blue, cold colors, The only red element is his shoelaces, which is hard to notice.

Someone once told me: ok, but Krel skintone is really warm, and this supports my theory, all the characters have most of their warm colors ON THE OUTSIDE, but Krel, aside from his cold clothes HAS THE WARM COLOR INSIDE HIM, HE'S THE WARM COLOR.

And just like fun fact, like, BRO- even the dog is designed in warm colors 🙃

It seems to me that this could represent a bit how difficult it is for them to fit in being themselves (?) after some point I''l explain this

Another extra parenthesis, I find it curious that in the TOA saga the blue color palette predominates in characters that are "not-human", Like Jim who becomes a troll, or Douxie who's a 900 years old wizard.

And it seems to me another important detail that Claire and Toby represent a little about this dynamic of cold and warm colors.

Toby is orange and red, warm colors = human. He was human and he'll be a normal human forever.

Claire is purple, closer to red, but still cold= normal human but a wizard (a kind of transition?).

Together, The path of the chromatic circle represents how they move away from being human. You can check de crromatic circle here:

Douxie does not seem to have any predominant color temperature, he wears neutral colors, this may be because he wants to go equally unnoticed in both worlds, but the detail is in his eyes, normally his eyes are amber (yellow, warm color= human) but when he uses magic they become blue like his magic itself.

Anyway, I don't want to stray too far from the topic.

It's been a long time since I watched the serie, But I think we even have a whole chapters on that topic. Aja even with problems at the beginning, she fit quite easily as a human, For Varvatos, socializing is a weirder experience, but in the end he has his thing with Nancy and is quite accepted among the other older adults, But we get a whole episode of Krel feeling bad because he doesn't think anyone will remember him, because he never quite fits in.

Long short story if you already see the serie, no much what to say on that, good ending to everyone.

Aja although she tried hid in the human red, in a human disguise, in the end she fully accepts her responsibility and decides to live in the blue that she was born, as the akiridion queen she is, while Krel, Despite being the most insistent in wanting to have his life back in Akiridon-5, Krel Krel, who wanted to hide behind the blue of what he considers his identity, he decides to live like the human he feels like.

But wait. don't missunderstood me, This for both of them is neither good nor bad, neither of them rejects their nature, and I think this is an important part of 3below, embrace who you love and who you are, part akiridion and part human.

I think you may be getting my point: For them being blue is actually good, because at the end they are not human, they just are who they are, And they proudly show their true colors, and they actually do it in a very literally way jjsjsj...

BUT-

Here we have. Blue vs red.

I need to be honest here, at this point this becomes more imagination than anything, but I think you all might agree with me.

Gaylen represents many things that an akiridon should not be, And what color is him? Oh of course it's red, a fucking warm color.

Speaking of my theory that warm = more human, I find it curious to point out that Gaylen only has 2 arms, wich is very human for the royal ones.

I saw many people talking in many places here on thne internet that it seemed that Krel and Aja woul be a heirs of Seklos and Gaylen, some in the figurative sense of "oh yes, don't let yourself be corrupted by power and be good people" and others in the literal sense. I believe both are true in some way.

There could be many things here but as I said it's a lot of imagination. Was it really a mere coincidence that Gaylen's core was on Earth? Are the colors a coincidence?

Here is a series of points that you yourselves can connect.

The cores of the tarron parents are blue. Probably any akiridion core is also blue. Cold Color

Heartstones are orange, warm colors.

Gaylen Core is purple, but he wasn't an Akiridion? shoul't it be blue? oooh, look a the chromatic circle, purple is just aside froom de red. May be healing? Perhaps it is beginning to retransition to red or orange, its original color.

What other purple elements in the saga do we have? Claire? Is there some shadow magic involved here? Was Gaylen perhaps a wizard?

Let's say Gaylen would have been more than a vague part of the lore, following what was said before, that Aja's nature is blue and Krel's is red, it is easy to say who is who's heir each one, but Seklos is not seen nowhere, was she really destroyed or is she somewhere else? There are many suspicious places for me, the shadow realm ((which supports my theory that there is shadow magic lurking here), the darklands ((I mean, after all the series doesn't tell us much about where or what the dark lands are supposed to be), the eternal forest ( (This is Nari's last name, but we could share more lore froom this concept, jajaja) I'm just saying...

I don't know how the whole thing could happen to get in the story to get to the point of Gaylen Krel, but there's my final though: After that, his new red colors could represent a lot of things, maybe the warm colors really only represented a nature that lost it's magic and in the end we were all always meant to be magical (?) just saying that, for example, Toby's grandmother has lived suspiciously too long to be a normal human, perhaps she is not as human as they wanted us to believe. That would also be an interesting door to explain why Toby's presence was really necessary from 3Below.

But hey, I want some angst, what would mean that Krel is Gaylen's heir? He would be an akiridion after he becomes like him? maybe he's something more, something weird or strange, not akiridion at all, not human at all.

Under this theory, it is similar to what Jim went through as a half-troll, although it is predominantly blue, the eclipse details are red cause after all he's still Jim, that human boy that we all love, and that was sacrifice and change was somtething needed to be made but doesn't change him at all, they both had to become like this, and after all, Krel would still being Krel.

I will share a mental picture I have so that you can get excited with me about the concept: I like to think of a parallel to Jim's breakdown when he becomes a troll, but this time with Krel changing drastically when he becomes Gaylen's heir. Hear me out, he's powerfull as a semi good (or like a really powerfull wizard) Imagine the team trying to catch him, using all kind of tricks until they catch him, to help him and cheer him up because he's scared and he ran way like Jim, and yeah, actually no one here care cause by this point in the story, since when the team care about who they were o are? Like the cherry on the cake, instead of the legendary Jlaire scene of "no matter who you are, I love you" we might have some cute confort sibilings moment with the same vibe but with "whatever you are, you will alway be my little brother" and we could have a moment with Varvatos of the kind "When I see you, I see no royal, no God, no one of those things, I just see Krel, Our very dear, young and intelligent Krel".

I don't mind the idea of ​​having a post-ROTT scenario, even his own parents could be present in this scenario, and Krel could have a "we're proud of you" from his parents in person.

Someone please tell me I'm not crazy with all these thoughts, I am traumatized with TOA

[averys-happy-space]

putting this here more for myself than anything. i wanna be able to look back at it in a year and see how its changed. explanations for each section under the cut

ship i loved at first sight: tara x piper. i don't know what the ship name is. taper? pira? pira seems nicer lol. anyway, tara used to be my favourite brawler (and is still up there in my top 5) and i think the first time i saw tara x piper fanart was on reddit. it was by Xpyray and i swear to god ive never fallen in love with a ship faster. their art is so fucking good and they dont rlly draw brawl stuff anymore but i still follow them cuz their art is so so so pretty (please go follow them if youre reading this). anyway so yeah thats how tara x piper became my fav ship.

ships i initially didn't like: rico x piper, shelly x colt imma be fr at the start i didn't really Get these ships. but after watching some of the official animations and learning more of the lore, i started to appreciate these ships more. i don't love them or anything but they can be cute

ships i don't like anymore: sandy x nita, leon x jessie, sandy x leon there is no real reason for this other than the fact that i simply stopped liking them as i grew up. as i was making this i realised that when i was younger i used to like the ships with the kids/teens more, but now i'm 17 and i'm just not interested in them anymore. i guess thats what happens when you grow up lol. these ships are still cute, but i just don't engage with them anymore

favourite popular ships: mandy x chester, fang x buster so a bit of background, i actually quit brawl stars for a while, i think after the gale brawl pass. i dont really remember why, but its probably because i just got bored of the game lol. i think that also played into why i'm no longer interested in the same ships as before. anyway, i came back this year during the bizarre circus brawl pass and accidentally fell in love with these two ships. honestly, i'm not even entirely sure why i fell in love with these two ships in particular. chester definitely caught my eye when i came back to the game because a) i love clowns b) i love a good troll c) i love the random XD energy chester has and d) he has super interesting & fun game mechanics. i have no interest in mandy really but then i saw One suggestive mandy x chester fanart that went hard af and suddenly i was on board lmao. on the other hand fang and buster were two characters that i took some time to fall in love with, but now they're my favourites lol it's so strange. i really don't know how it happened.

favourite rarepair: amber x maisie i was looking at a diagram of all the trios so far because i was brainstorming ideas for who to include in a fanfic and as i was looking at it, suddenly it Clicked in my mind that amber x maisie would go hard af. like think about it. overconfident fire entertainer who gets so swept up in performances that she forgets about safety x safety coordinator with a fire extinguisher for an arm who secretly likes being in dangerous situations? come on!!!! im surprised more people havent thought of this pairing cuz as soon as it clicked for me it seemed like such an obvious pairing to do. but then again they've never interacted in any animation/promo material/etc so i guess it's not a pair people would just think of without prompting. but it's so fucking good!!!! more people need to get in on this ship.

controversial ship: none here's the thing. i don't know any controversial ships that i can see myself shipping. the most controversial one i know is probably edgar x colette but i see them as siblings so i don't ship it nor do i engage with fanart of them. edgar and colette ships in general are probably controversial seeing as both of them don't have canon ages and it's vague enough that people are always talking about whether they're adults or minors. but i personally see both of them as older teens so i don't ship them with anyone. (to me, they're too old to hang out with the kid brawlers but also too young to hang out with the adult brawlers. it's weird because there's no other brawlers where i see them as teens, so in my mind edgar and colette both have 0 shipping potential)

ships i want to become canon the most: amber x maisie, fang x buster they're my current favourite ships. what else to say.

comfort ship: fang x buster i think about them All the Fucking Time. lowkey i started to project on fang a bit just cuz i like him so much. i don't even know why or how i started liking him this much but he's my favourite brawler now and it's horrible. i think the seal in the coffin was @/giveittomegay's fanart of them. THEY'RE SO FUCKING CUTE. like omfg. confident, charismatic chinese immigrant who just arrived at starr park x introverted insecure white guy who doesn't know how to approach others. slowburn where they become closer through working at the cinema and buster realises he's fallen in love basically immediately but fang hasn't realised his own sexuality (has had crushes on girls before so always assumed he was straight) and doesn't realise he's in love with buster until maisie straight up tells him. fang's confidence means he jokingly flirts with buster all the time because he thinks it's funny to tease the guy and make him flustered but doesn't realise buster gets flustered because he likes fang. fang is fucking stupid. also, i think using fang x shelly here as a conflict plot point would be so good. like, fang seeing a pretty girl and approaching her, flirting with her, etc. i like to think fang is dense as fuck and would genuinely believe he's in love with shelly despite buster occupying 90% of his thoughts because his thought process would be something along the lines of "oh, i just think about him a lot cuz he's my best friend, i'm sure this is all regular, normal bff things". and buster just fucking dying inside but not saying anything because he thinks it's none of his business and he shouldn't interfere in fang's love life. MAISIE WATCHING ALL THIS HAPPEN AND WANTING TO MURDER BOTH OF THEM FOR BEING SO DENSE. like ohhhhhh my god there is so much potential here it's fucking insane. side note: fang doesn't have anything against gay people. i like to think maisie x amber comes way before fang x buster, so fang knows gay people exist and like he is perfectly fine and comfortable being around them, he's just so stupidly dense that he doesn't realise HE is gay (or more specifically bi). he also assumes buster is straight because default sexuality and whenever fang makes jokes based on this assumption buster never corrects him. because buster is a pussy. god. i want to write this fanfic so bad but i'm so fucking bad at writing dialogue it's insane.

ships that deserve more attention: amber x maisie, brock x bibi, barley x bull, max x janet LET ME COOK HERE OKAY. amber x maisie i already explained above. brock x bibi (i call them bibrock) is because it's noted in bibi's bio that she's secretly a huge nerd and i think it would be super cute for her to have a bf who she can indulge in nerdy and geeky shit with. to me they're both massive comic book fans who become close by playing all the superhero video games together before branching out to other games. they're console gamers btw and they get SUPER competitive whenever they're playing against each other. but they also do play coop games where they work together. usually brock is the one who does a lot of theorycrafting and tries to minmax his grind so he can get all the resources in the most optimal and time efficient way possible, whereas bibi prefers just going into fights and wrecking havoc lol. barley x bull is because they're both restaurant owners/servers (barley has his bar, bull has his diner) and i think they would bond over shitty customers and interesting food/drink recipes. they're both also familiar with having fights break out in their establishment and are fully capable of shutting fights down, even if it means getting their hands dirty. they think they're on opposite ends of the spectrum but they're actually more similar than they realise. for sure a very slowburn romance (especially because i think bull would be denial about liking a fucking robot lmfao) max x janet is because they're both celebrity entertainers. yeah, that's it. no but seriously i see max as someone who puts up an outgoing persona in public and is generally a very hyper, high energy person but at the same time, she tends to keep people at a distance because she's scared of intimacy. before janet, her closest friends are surge and meg. surge kind of Knows something is up with her because every time he tried to ask about her past she clammed up and gave noncommittal responses. he worries about her but doesn't know what to do about it so he just tries to make her happy in the present. meg is a kid so she doesn't realise anything is wrong lol. hanging out with meg and surge makes max happy and she considers them family, but she still has a wall up around her true self. janet is the one who is finally able to help max come out of her shell and address her past trauma. it also helps that max thinks janet is very pretty and desperately wants to kiss her. this is canon btw don't question me.

first otp: tara x piper | current otp: fang x buster i basically said all i have to say about these ships so yeah. that's it.

[anthroxlove]

(Jon's post) (Who Trolled Amber? Podcast)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Fairy Of Fail

Summary: Icy is a horror and true crime podcaster, Bloom uploads epic fail montages. Bloom has made a montage of all of the Trix's most humiliating moments.

"Hey everyone! Bloom again, thee Fairy of Fail! And today I have some great clips lined up for you!" Bloom announces on the screen.

Blooms face disappears from the screen and in its place appears a fairy with short brown hair, amber eyes, and a khaki jacket carrying a suitcase that is ready to burst. She is walking past a trash can and a small set of stairs, leaving the viewer to wonder where and how the fail will happen. Starting strong, apparently, the fairy passes the stairs and the trash can without issue. Instead a stray strap of her suitcase catches on a door handle and she trips into another fairy who drops her lunch tray right onto the fallen fairy.

The second clip showcases a witch, Lunilla she recognizes, carrying a cauldron. She isn't paying attention being so deeply invested in a conversation with Shilly. She manages to trip and fall right into her cauldron where she gets stuck.

Icy watches clip after clip and endures Bloom's ridiculous commentary, half expecting to see any one of the Trix's own mishaps appear.

Bloom must be waiting for the right moment, biding her time for the prime opportunity for humiliation. Or, perhaps, she is hoarding clips upon clips to make an entire video devoted to the three of them.

Icy will kill the fairy, she swears it! No matter how many appearances that it might cause her to make on Bloom's video page.

"I can't believe that people actually watch this shit." Icy glares at the screen.

"I don't know, I think that it's kind of funny." Stormy remarks. "Did you guys see that one with the specialist and the troll!?"

"Of course you think that it’s funny." Darcy mutters. "How did you even find this anyways, Icy?"

"Do you just, like, stalk your nemesis?"

Icy shrugs. "Just appeared on the homepage one say." It is a sound enough explanation and much better than having g to admit that xFairy0fFailx had commented under several of her own videos.

For once, the witch can say that she didn't  initiate this particular squabble.

Frankly she would like to wager that Bloom is stalking her pages; true crime and horror movie discussions don't typically cross paths with fail videos and yo mama joke compilations.

The fairy, Icy decides, has the sense of humor of a 10 year old child.

Maybe it's about views; she is trying to get more of them than Icy has. But that wouldn't explain the comments that she likes to leave: 'I'll murder dat ass like a chupacabra witg sheep!', 'the only true crime I see is how snatched your waist looks in that skirt!', or most recently, 'have you slapped the Mothman's juicy ass yet!?'

She has half the mind to tell the fairy that she has indeed done so and that they have a dinner date scheduled for next Tuesday.

"She's the one that you've been complaining about, isn't she!?" Stormy guesses. "The one leaving all of those comments?"

"She is." Icy grumbles. "Because of course she is..."

Darcy quirks a brow and suggests, "maybe she's trying to get your attention to do some kind of weird collaboration video wit you?"

"What if she's trying to flirt with you!?" Stormy asks.

Icy isn't sure which theory displeased her more. "Oh darkness, what if it's both." Icy massages the bridge of her nose.

Stormy cackles.

Icy fails to see the humor in it.

.oOo.

Her antics have finally gotten her the response that she had been hoping for. After several very sassy, very comical responses to her comments, Icy has finally demanded to meet her in person again. She had made sure to ask why Bloom was being so indirect, it isn't as though the two of them have ever had any qualms about just popping in on one another before. Icy almost always shows up on her doorstep to start drama and throw a few hands. 

“Why couldn’t you just stick your desire for combat in a text? Or, you know, just show up at our doorstep like a normal nemesis?” Icy demands again.

“Because that’s no fun!” Bloom declares. With a boop to Icy’s nose. She is feeling rather bold today. “You have the most hilarious comebacks I’ve seen on the web and the viewers are loving it!” 

Icy deadpans. “Clicks. You’re doing this for…clicks!?”

Bloom nods. But that isn’t entirely true, she would be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that she had started her Fairy Of Fail account just to upload various clips and montages of the Trix doing their best but ultimately falling short. A way of giving them a taste of their own medicine for constantly tormenting Mirta, Lucy, and other witches that they found to be inferior.

Ultimately she couldn’t bring herself to go through with it, what kind of fairy would it make her to be vengeful. 

But that won’t stop her from having a least a little bit of fun. “I also needed you to get mad enough to check in on me.” 

“So this is a trap?” Icy quirks a brow.

Bloom nods.

“Okay, so clearly you need some help with mischief and petty evil; rule number one of traps.” She pauses. “Don’t say that your trap is a trap until after the person has been effectively and helplessly trapped!” 

“I didn’t!” Bloom declares. “I put a spell on the door that makes it impassable for at least three hours!”

“Your windows are looking very smashable right now.”

“Those have been spelled too!”

“I will freeze a hole through the floor and then it’s over for you.”

“You can do that but then you’ll put yourself right in the middle of Alfea’s lunchroom and there will be so many people there.” Bloom points out. “Or you can sit on the couch and watch one little video with me.”

Icy blinks before falling more deadpan than before. “You lured me here to make me watch shitty memes videos with you?”

“Something like that.” 

“You’re going to make me watch your even shittier videos aren’t you?” She grimaces. “Oh darkness, you’re going to make me be your test audience!”

Bloom smirks. “Take a seat, I have snacks.” 

“Snack on this!” She plunges her hand into the popcorn bowl and lifts it back out with a palmful of popcorn and her middle finger extended.

“You’re so creative and funny. We should make a video together.” Bloom pats her back. 

With a groan, the witch lets the popcorn fall back into the bowl. “I don’t know if you know this but reading scary internet stories isn’t exactly compatible with…” she crinkles her nose, “whatever you’re doing here.”

Bloom turns the screen on. Icy folds her arms across her chest but she sits down, “alright, hurry up and get this over with so I can get on with my day.” She grumbles. “Expect a very in depth and brutally honest critique of your editing and video composition skills.”

“I will. Just make sure that you also give an in depth and brutal critique of the content.”

“Won’t be hard, your clips are always so lame.” 

Bloom has a feeling that Icy has a feeling that she knows exactly what she is about to watch. The woman scowls at the computer screen as the first clip rolls. It is a rather mundane moment in comparison to what is to come, the moment where Musa slaps Icy in front of Stormy and several Cloud Tower witches. Bloom had thought about editing it with a slow motion repetition and an emphasis on the slap sound. 

Icy rolls her eyes. 

The next clip is of Stormy getting zapped by the scales. “That one isn’t even a good clip!” Icy insists. “We won that battle! We stole the codex and I blasted your boyfriend into an eternal sleep.” 

“If it was an eternal sleep then why is he awake and in my DMs even though we broke up.”

“Do you want me to put him into an even more eternal sleep? I can put him into a deeper eternal slumber.”

“You would do that for me!?” Bloom holds her hand to her chest. “Even though I’m forcing you to watch every single moment where we kicked your asses!?”

“I’ll put you into a sleep so eternal that it is a coma.” Icy grumbles. 

One after another the Trix’s worst moments flash across the screen; fighting and nearly losing to Amentia, that time when they had fought them in the vacation realm only to be swept away by flood waters, plummeting into the Black Willow’s tears and emerging as children, Griffin blasting the three of them into the Detention Dimension…

On and on until the montage ends with what Bloom believes is their most spectacular failure; the Pixie Village incident.

By the end of it Icy is slumped so far down the sofa that she may well slip off of it. She keeps her arms firmly folded across her chest and wears something between a scowl and a pout on her face. Bloom swears that she hears the woman mutter, “darkness, we’re pathetic.” 

“How did you do it?” Bloom asks. 

“How did I do what?” 

“Become the most popular witch at Cloud Tower? You’re kind of cringe.” 

Icy makes some sort of half choking noise. “I am not!” 

“Then explain this!” Bloom replays the clip of her getting hit by her own rebounding spell once more.

“No.”

“No!?”

“I won’t explain it.” 

“That’s fine because I think that I already know! I think that people just don’t notice that you’re a big, kind of clumsy dork because you hide it under so many layers of darkness and villainy.” 

Icy gives a haughty little sniff but Bloom swears that her cheeks are at least a little pink. “Right.”

“You’re also really adorable!” Feeling daring, she ruffles Icy’s hair.

Icy grits her teeth and snarls, face fully flushed. Perhaps a smarter fairy would be trembling with fear at the plummeting temperature. Bloom flashes a smile and pats Icy’s reddened cheek. It grows redder still and the air becomes frostier. 

It isn’t the first time that she has made the witch blush. There’s something rather precious about it. Even if it comes with a death risk. 

“You want to see adorable? I’ll show you…” She trails off into a sputter. “Is that a camera? Are you recording this, Bloom!?”

“I might be.”

.oOo.

Oh she is going to kill the fairy. Freeze her so solid that nobody will be able to tell that she was anything but an ice sculpture. 

“If you do a podcast with me, I won’t release it as bonas content alongside my Trix special!” She pauses. “I also won’t release the Trix special. One way or another, you’ll be featured on my vlog.”

“So you’re blackmailing me?”

Bloom nods.

As agitating as it is, Icy has to respect it; it is just so delightfully diabolical in the most petty sense. “For what? Why would you want to do a podcast with me?”

Bloom shrugs, “I like your content and think that we could make some really cool content together. Something that’s creative, edgy, and witty. And don’t ask me why I didn’t just ask you because we both know that you would have said no.”

“You don’t even like horror…”

“That is not true! When I was like six years old I went to a sleepover and watched Amityville Horror. I told my mom that I was going to be watching a fantasy movie but I lied. I had nightmares for weeks but I own the DVD now.” 

“Wait until you learn that it was based on a true story and I ought to drag you to that house, summon whatever demons are still there, and coax them to possess your soul.” 

“Sounds like a great way to start our new vlog together! The viewers will love it.”

“You think that you’re really clever don’t you, Bloom?” 

“Because I am.” She beams. “So what do you say, start a horror and true crime vlog with me?”

Truth be told it doesn’t sound like a particularly dreadful idea. Darcy and Stormy join her for videos now and then but Stormy can’t stay focused long enough for a podcast and Darcy prefers more practical themes like witchcraft tutorials and instructing views on how to steal someone’s man effortlessly. “Like I have a choice.” She mutters more to herself.

Bloom pokes at her cheek. “We’re going to have a great time making videos together!”

“Yeah and by the end of it I’ll be covering a story about your mysterious disappearance and I’ll have to pretend like I know nothing about it.” 

Bloom laughs. Laughs to the point of tears. Icy exhales deeply—she is in for quite a time. She isn’t sure what kind of time she will be having with the fairy but it will certainly be some kind of time. 

“What mysterious disappearance are we going to cover first?” Bloom inquires. 

It rolls off of her tongue before she can stop it, “the mysterious disappearance and untimely death of my dignity.”

[reverseenchancia]

✝️🌸Character Analysis: Sofia’s Identity Crisis🌸✝️

Sofia the First’s journey from a humble village girl to a princess of Enchancia is a story of transformation, growth, and self-discovery. Her identity crisis is one of the most compelling aspects of her character, as it explores universal themes of belonging, self-worth, and reconciling one’s past with an uncertain future.

🎁The Roots of Sofia’s Struggle🎁

Sofia begins her life as an ordinary girl in Dunnwiddie village, raised by her mother Miranda, a shoemaker. Her world changes overnight when Miranda marries King Roland II, making Sofia a princess. This sudden shift thrusts her into a world of royal expectations, traditions, and scrutiny. Unlike her stepsister Amber, who was born into royalty, Sofia feels like an outsider navigating unfamiliar terrain.

Her internal conflict stems from two main sources:

1. External Judgment: Nobles and courtiers often view her as unrefined or unworthy due to her commoner roots. Their gossip about her lack of royal etiquette amplifies her feelings of inadequacy.

2. Internal Doubts: Sofia questions whether she can truly embody the qualities of a princess while staying true to herself. She fears losing the essence of who she was before becoming royalty.

❄️A Defining Moment: The Royal Ball Incident❄️

During a grand royal ball, Sofia overhears nobles gossiping about how she doesn’t fit the mold of a "true princess." Their words cut deeply, reinforcing her insecurities. Feeling out of place and overwhelmed, she retreats to her secret spot in the Enchanted Forest—a place where she feels safe and free from judgment. In this moment of solitude, Sofia reflects on her journey. She remembers her life in Dunnwiddie🎄 helping her mother in the shop, playing with friends, and living simply but happily. She contrasts this with the pressures of palace life—learning royal customs, managing court politics, and constantly proving herself.

✨️Themes Explored Through Sofia’s Crisis✨️

1. Belonging vs. Authenticity: Sofia grapples with whether she must conform to royal expectations or if she can redefine what it means to be a princess. Her actions often challenge traditional norms—befriending trolls, joining the Flying Derby (a traditionally male sport), and treating servants as equals.

2. Dual Identity: Sofia embodies two worlds—the humble values of her upbringing and the responsibilities of royalty. Her struggle lies in merging these identities without losing herself.

3. Resilience Through Reflection: The Enchanted Forest serves as more than just a physical retreat; it symbolizes Sofia’s inner sanctuary, where she can process her emotions and find clarity.

The Role of Relationships

Sofia’s relationships play a crucial role in helping her navigate this crisis:

- Amber👑 Initially dismissive and competitive, Amber grows to understand Sofia’s struggles. Their evolving bond becomes a source of strength for both sisters.

- Clover 🐰As Sofia’s loyal animal companion, Clover provides humor and emotional support during moments of doubt.

- Cedric 🪄Though initially antagonistic, Cedric’s eventual respect for Sofia mirrors her ability to see beyond surface judgments—a skill she must apply to herself.

☃️Growth Through Magic and Responsibility☃️

The Amulet of Avalor symbolizes Sofia’s journey toward self-acceptance. It grants powers for good deeds but also curses for missteps, teaching Sofia that actions have consequences. As she grows into roles such as Story Keeper and Protector of the Ever Realm, she learns that being a princess is not about perfection but about courage, kindness, and integrity. Her magical adventures—saving Princess Elena from imprisonment or stopping the evil sorceress Vor—serve as metaphors for overcoming personal fears and doubts. These trials force Sofia to embrace both her strengths and vulnerabilities.

Resolution: Embracing Duality

By the end of the series, Sofia realizes that she does not need to choose between being a commoner or a princess—she can be both. Her humility from Dunnwiddie complements her royal responsibilities, making her a unique leader who values empathy over elitism. Sofia redefines what it means to be "royal." She proves that true nobility comes not from birthright but from character—a lesson that resonates with viewers navigating their own identity crises.

Why This Matters

Sofia’s identity crisis is not just a personal struggle; it reflects broader societal themes:

- Acceptance: The importance of being valued for who you are rather than where you come from.

- Breaking Stereotypes: Challenging traditional roles while staying authentic.

- Empowerment: Finding strength in one’s uniqueness rather than conforming to expectations.

Sofia’s journey inspires audiences by showing that self-doubt is part of growth and that embracing one’s duality leads to true self-discovery. Her story reminds us all that we are more than any single label—we are the sum of our experiences, values, and choices.