#ask me how my little pony inspired this post. any one of you ask me how i dare you.

[anxiously-sidequesting]

You know what I love more than just heroes and villains going up against each other is when the hero and villain have a certain respect and acknowledgement to the other, have a special relationship or connection with the other, or just a general interest that's between just THOSE TWO GUYS and not anybody else Grandfather Spider Morganthe Schismist Soldier Duncan Grimwater

Like I could easily see the YW teaming up with almost any of those people (see: only GFS and Morganthe the other two are crazy) not out of maliciousness or because they switched sides but because they're just compatible with them in ways where it just makes sense. Like for example the YW fighting back-to-back with Morganthe or having in depth magical discussions with her because we understand her on a level no one else does. Like in a crazy season finale where the Savior of the Spiral would not even Dream of Ever Working With Those Ruffians but when they have to they're like so magical (no pun intended) together because they just click. Like in the original Teen Titans where Deathstroke and Robin were like fighting in Hell together and they were on the SAME WAVELENGTH despite being bitter enemies THAT'S THE SHIT I LIKE. I think maybe that's the reason why I resonate more with these guys than Malistaire because imo it's just so much more interesting and emotional when we get two people on opposite sides of the morale scale able to come together and work so fluently. This is also me saying I want a Schismist Soldier and YW Roommate Sitcom.

[polyquestria]

Hey everyone, long time no ponies

so yeah, it's been a minute, huh? Just had the thought of looking up how many minutes are in four years, but we don't want to deal with that many numbers, right?

A lot has happened since Feb of 2020. Not just in the world, but for myself personally. When y'all last saw me, I was still half in the closet, severely underweight and feeling all round shitty. However, in my hiatus, I've really been working on myself. I started HRT in May that year and have proudly been on it for close to four years now! Not only that, but in June last year, I had top surgery that went very well and I couldn't be happier with the results and the support I've received from my irl community. I adopted a cat, I got my drivers license, been seeing a dietitian to help improve my eating habits, upped my anxiety meds, started taking meds for my ADHD and all that work has been paying great dividends in my mental health. Which leads me to what I'm about to say.

Polyquestria is back!

At least for now. With Ponydoodles, the other mlp request blog I'm apart of, really picking up again, it's inspired me to dust off this old blog and revamp it. Which means it now has new features. The main one being this: I am now open to more than just romantic/queerplatonic pairings! What does that mean, you ask? Well, you can now request two or more characters with any dynamic. Some examples are: Platonic (Friendships that can be canon or ones that you think would be fun!), Familial (Again, canon or your own headcanon (Adding on that the type of family doesn't matter either; biological, adoptive, foster, found, whatever!)), Mentor/Student, maybe even characters you think would be rivals! Just make sure it all falls in line with the new and updated rules, the link to which can be found in the description that I implore you to read before requesting.

I'll also be posting my own ship art, pairings that I think could work, friendships that would be really fun and familial headcanons that would just be really neat, in my own opinion! I'll try not to lean too heavily into either requests or my own jargon; we're just vibing here

Going back to the rule link, underneath it on my blog, you will find a link to my new mod page, featuring my new mod name: Mod Major Mitchell. It will also be featuring my new sona, a kirin/griffon hybrid named Chook. Go check it out to learn a little more about me and also gain access to my linktr.ee, the hub for everything me online.

Alright, I think that's about it for now. Feel free to ask any more questions in my askbox and, hey, maybe while you're there, leave a request or two.

[qprpbj]

do you have any tips on how to start writing fics?

the outsiders brainrot actually has me coming up with ideas and i have a desire to start writing them into actual stories but i've never written outside of class papers/assignments and i don't really know where/how to start since it's all just my own prompts and ideas and there's no grading rubric lmaoooo

like do you plan out each fic with a list first or do you just start writing about the main plot point of the chapter and fill in out of order or do you just start writing and see where it takes you... do you do any research while you're planning or pull from other authors/fics/posts or write from experience...

how do you decide when to stop writing or decide on which endings/paths/plot points to go with... the deadly combo of indecisiveness and perfectionism along with having no guidelines or due dates is crippling me so im asking some of my fav authors (who have also been inspiring me to write and be creative)

wait hi this is so sweet thank you!!! 🥹🥹 i will preface All This (sorry i yapped so much lol) by. i’ve been writing fic for like ten years and i think a lot of my old fic, while deeply cringe and awful, was all very important to getting me where i am today where i feel i can accurately get across what im trying to say!!!

first. hone your ideas!!! try to find a good niche you feel comfortable in (but also. don’t limit your creativity!!!). idk for me it’s easier to start specific and small rather than super general bc then i have Tooooo much freedom u know. i think my niche sorta across fandoms is generally softer dialogue, exploring close siblings or familial or friendship bonds an dynamics through situation, a lot of fluff, maybe a lil hurt comfort

i basically exclusively write in order! unless i get a really cool line/paragraph in my head that i write out and save for later to fit in somewhere. i usually have a like one-line idea that just Comes to me (ex. this was my entire line idea that turned into that pony getting jumped fic!)

then i’ll expand it a little more into a shitty little paragraph (ex. here’s a few!!!)

and then tbh after that i just kinda write everything in order from top to bottom from there. i wish i were more organized tbh and writing long fic/chaptered stuff is still sooo hard for me (which is why i don’t do it much yet lol) but im really trying to break out of it!! slowly we are learning!!! retaining the inspo and drive necessary to write that much is harddddd lmfao

before writing i always do have a solid idea where i want it to start and go and end though. like that ponyboy jumping fic i Knew i wanted to have pony get jumped in the opening scene, then go home, try to break down cutting his own hair, brothers come in and talk him down and it ends with talking abt johnny, even if i didn’t like. List that all out in words in a document.

definitely do research!!! espppp for outsiders bc it was like 60 years ago!!! well researched fics are soooo obviously tonally different and it’s always super obvious imo when that sort of care is put into ur writing. that fic i wrote about darry getting a panic attack was important researching bc panic attacks weren’t well known or researched or even Called panic attacks back then, so it’d be hella jarring seeing like 1967 13y/o pony whip out “you’re having a panic attack darry 🤓👆” yk lmfaoo

i SOO get the perfectionism and having no due dates thing btw. i have literally like 5 fics i’ve started and not finished in my docs rn with like 15 more ideas i wanna write someday. tbh! try to enter that Hyperfixation Zone and be really excited about what you’re making!!! helps it go by easier bc i swear sometimes i’ll write fic and it feels like pulling teeth even though it’s supposed to be fun!!!

last thing. try and find friends to bounce ideas off of and go crazy with you <3 or ppl to beta read!!! makes writing SO much easier and sm more fun having a your own lil personal cheerleader!!! if you ever need a beta id be soooo happy to read whatever you’ve got and hype u up!!! <3 i hope this helped at least a little bit LOL my writing process is kinda chaotic ngl

[ichoosechoasandbeingqueer]

Hello! I'm not sure if you are taking requests atm, so please feel free to ignore if you aren't! If you are, though, would you be so kind as to write for Dwalin with a female hobbit reader who is terribly shy yet always sticks with him because she likes him? Thank you before hand! ❤️

Hello anon and thank you for your ask!

I’m sorry its so short, I’ve reread this so many times that i absolutely hate it so I’m posting it to get it out of my system. I’m in a real writing slum at the moment and nothing I make seems to inspire me at the moment so I will probably write another story on this when I’m more creative. If you want to message me privately so a can tag you when that come out feel free or if not, just keep an eye out for that too.

Warnings: none

Always There

Dwalin swung his axe over his head, bringing it down with force into the log he was keeping still with his left boot. He grumbled to himself miserably at the use of his fine war weapons being used in such a mundane way, but the thought of a nice hot dinner after a full day of riding made him swing again. The wood split easily against the sharp end of his blade and he nodded his head in approval.

That was when he noticed it, the scurrying sound of feet around him. It had become a familiar sound to him at this point of the quest, the smallest member of their party scurrying around him. He thought it would annoy him a first, having the hobbit lass constantly by his side, but now as he watched her pointed ears bounce as she moved and her fuzzy toes curl themselves into the dirt as she collected kindling, he found the hovering endearing. He even took a certain amount of pride that despite his fearsome demeanor and rough personality that it was him of all the dwarves the girl had seemed to open up to the most. If he was with the ponies, so was she. If he was collecting fire wood, she was there to help him. If he was simply laying about, she was laying somewhere close by. The two had bonded with wordless nods and her shy blushing smiles and now Dwalin didn’t know what to do without her with him. He felt lost in her absence.

The dwarf lifted the stacks of wood onto his shoulder to carry back to camp enjoying the way she watched him out the corner of her eye. He let out a grunt to catch her attention and she picked up one last stick before following him back to camp. She hummed as they walked, a tune Dwalin didn’t recognize but quiet enjoyed listening too, and as they unloaded their haul and sat down to rest to tune was still going.

“I like that one,” Dwalin interrupted as he leaned back against a stone he had found, “s’ nice,”

The lass paused, red creeping across her cheeks making Dwalin grin at her shy expression.

“An old tune my mother used to sing in the garden. I’m afraid I can’t remember the words after all these years but it was one of my favorites growing up,”. He hummed in reply, surprised as she continued, “Do you have any songs that you favor master Dwalin?”  

“Well…” he thought out loud, “There is one. But its in Khuzdul so I can’t really sing it for ya,”

She gave a small nod, “Oh right, dwarven ears only. I wouldn’t want to getting in trouble with your brother now would I?”

Dwalin pulled a face and snorted, remembering the lecture Kili received from Balin a few days ago after he taught Bilbo how to swear in the secret dwarven language.  

“Balin’s lectures are the worst, poor lad was there for over an hour. Oh, that reminds me of the time…,”

And as the bulky warrior broke into a story about he and his brother when they were little, the hobbit lass settled down in the grass next to him, leaning against his leg with a look of fondness as she listened.

[oneofthepowerful]

Blog 1

Introduction

Hello all, I hope you are all well! Welcome to my Tubmlr blog where I share updates and ramble on about behind the scenes content related to my web-series One of the Powerful!

Now "what is One of the Powerful" you may ask? For those who don’t know, OotP is an upcoming indie semi-animated web series on YouTube!

One of the Powerful is about a world divided in two, between Powerful (who are beings with magical abilities) and Powerless (ones who possess no magic) due to a war many years ago. As a compromise to stop most of the conflict, the leaders of Powerless and Powerful decided to have their own territories.

The series follows Erin Indipend, being a Powerful raised in Powerless Territory, Erin had to supress their magic for most of their life, due to the fear of being found out. Those Powerful who are unfortunate enough to be discovered in Powerless Territory are taken away never to be seen again, what truly happens to them or who is behind this, is all unknown to the public eye. Erin eventually saves up to move away to Seaside in Powerful Territory with their friend Cassidy, who’s in a similar boat to them, for a new start, for things to be better. However, is their new life in Powerful Territory really as great as Erin thinks it will be, or is everything not as it meets the eye.

This synopsis is really just the tip of the iceberg, there is a lot I have planned for the series that I am super excited to share!

I have been developing OotP since 2020 (4 years already!!) being inspired by the many things I loved growing up - originally it was going to be a comic, however I kinda struggled with motivation as animation is more of my cup of tea, so I decided to develop this story into a semi-animated series (”semi-animated” meaning that the series will be an animatic with some animated segments due to currently being a one man animation team). And due to that, episodes may take quite a while to make, so I decided to create a blog to share what goes on behind the scenes in between the wait for episodes!!

Since this is my first post, why not introduce myself! I’m Ray, an 18 year old aspiring animator from Scotland - I love anime, video games, rock music and coffee!!

Ever since I was a little kid, I LOVED learning how things worked, I remember opening up any electronic toy I had, trying to figure out how they functioned. XD At Primary School, I saw some of my friends were into My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, which I then got into myself, and adored. I vividly remember looking at behind the scenes content on YouTube of the show, and since I loved seeing how things worked, I was fascinated by seeing the process of how cartoons were made and how much went into them!

I remember being very artistic as a kid, and was always creating something! XD However, I never got into animation properly until 2022, I had tried it a few times in the past, but never got very far due to being intimidated with how time consuming it all was XD - until late 2021 when I got re-introduced to the medium by making a video project for a class I took in High School. The remainder of that year I was making a few animatics here and there and I found it really fun!! Then for a final project in the same class, I wanted to create an animated episode of my series, and creating its opening back then was really memorable for me, I had so much fun animating it! And even though I ended up scrapping the project in the end, I kept on making Oc animations in my spare time and here I am nearly two years later basically went around full circle!! It is my dream to someday become a professional animator and help create shows and movies, so OotP is great practice for that!

I hope this gives you all a little introduction to my series and myself, thank you all so much for reading, until next time!! ^^

[shapeshivvter]

thanks for making this post about dni in pony town i thought it meant like some fraction or something and i kept talking to those people :( ill refrain from doing so next time!! thank you!! if you have any other things about ponytown do you have any other things in ponytown to keep in mind? im so new to this game its not funny

oomfie (i know you might not be a mutual but the nickname is nice so) i've known about this game for a while (i think a couple years??) im still learning stuff because i bareellyy play it. like. i dont even know good techniques for pony creation. i think the best thing to say is just, dont be a asshole . which with this ask i can tell you arent going to have a problem with that, bless your heart note that everything here is probably going to be a bunch of rambling im so sorry

i am NOT an expert on what goes on around ponytown all i know is that no matter how "chronically online" an online touch trigger is (DNT "Do not touch") , people should still respect it instead of harassing people for it. Harassing someone for it does not make you a hero, it does not make you some good guy. No little Timmy- you are just being a massive prick on a game based off a kids show.

With communication in ponytown its actually kind of difficult because either everybody is already talking to someone, or someone doesnt want to be talked to, so often when I play i often find myself sitting alone kind of just hanging around. I mean it gives me time to relax since my anxiety spikes when i join cause im immediately thrown into this huge crowd but like. Ive found it so difficult to engage in conversation. There is the "Looking for chat" status but. i dont think people use those very often.

Everything is more of my personal opinion than an objective fact

In regards to designs, inspiration is okay as long as you have permission i think. I mean, it is common decency to ask. Probably. But I dont think for one singular thing, such as a color choice, you should have to ask.

If anybody wanted to, they could use this color combo. Because I do not own the concept of these colors. I also do not own the concept of a half default pony, go wild readers. I used the striped markings for only the back legs and colored them the red, and then the pants option.

But anyways, same with pony cosplays. People dont own the characters, but they did think of the way to design them as a pony. Ask permission before taking inspiration if you are going to take heavy amounts of inspiration.

(Wheatley from Portal 2.)

I hope I pieced my thoughts together well enough, im actually kind of sick right now so it might not make sense but?? long story short just. dont be a shitty person, respect boundaries, etc

[c0smic-coral]

Here’s my story about growing up on MLP

The show started when I was 6 years old, but i didn’t get pulled in until I was 7. I remember it was a McDonald’s Happy Meal Fluttershy toy that did it (I still have it today and it sits on my dresser like a trophy). She had a brushable tail but no comb and a whole bunch of stickers. I looked at the box and my mom, who’d known about the show and remembered the original 80s version from her childhood, but she said she never really watched it or owned any of the toys, but I guess really wanted me to get into it. I still remember the first episode I watched was Read It and Weep (the one where Rainbow Dash gets into Daring Do) which today I find hilariously ironic.

This started a full-blown OBSESSION with the show. Soon I was collecting the blind bags, Beanie Babies, Happy Meal toys, I had FatHeads of all of the ponies on my bedroom wall, I had a My Little Pony lunchbox, a My Little Pony backpack, I wore My Little Pony underwear, I had My Little pony pajamas, I made a Twilight Sparkle Halloween costume one year, I had a My Little Pony birthday party one year. My mom compared me to Pinkie Pie but Twilight Sparkle was my favorite. I was an extroverted kid (the pandemic is what turned me into an introverted adult) and I started hoping I’d meet five friends I’d spend my whole life with just like her. I was a silly kid. I actually got bullied for being obsessed with the show unfortunately… this led to the loss of my first My Little Pony lunchbox.

And I wrote fanfiction! And I drew cringeworthy fanart because I was like that (my fanart improved over the years). When Equestria Girls came out, I started wondering if high school would be like that.

No, I never got to dance on cafeteria tables in school spirit wear. Sad.

As an adult, I think the show has definitely shaped me as a person who believes friendship, while not magic, is one of the most important things in the world. As for G5, it’s okay in my opinion. I haven’t watched any of the episodes after the Netflix movie, but I like the characters and I’m happy to see the next generation of kids gets to grow up on it too.

I did not hate Season 9. The later seasons I agree were not as good, but I never hated the School of Friendship or Cozy Glow (I actually love the idea of adorable child villains). The introduction of Scootaloo’s lesbian aunts warmed my heart, along with LyraBon getting married and implied AppleDash (though I think RariJack would have been better, just saying). I don’t hate The Last Problem either. Once again, a bit upset Rarity didn’t end up with anyone though because she deserved to have a happily ever after (and Gallus and Silverstream ending up in different places. I think those two should have gotten together)

Pony Life is bad. The introduction of Pinkie Pie’s brother makes no sense and opens up a lot of plot holes, even more than Maud never having been in The Cutie Mark Chronicles flashback. I never got behind Sparity. Rarity is too old for Spike and to be honest I think Spike and Sweetie Belle should’ve.

One thing I never understood was the hate on Flash Sentry and Timber Spruce. I think they’re both charming and both good for their respective Twilights. No no no. I ship Sunset Shimmer with EG’s Rainbow Dash, not Sci-Twi. No hate on Twiset, though!

My favorite episode of MLP, or episodes I suppose, are still A Canterlot Wedding, Parts 1 and 2. Queen Chrysalis will always be my fav villain. I love two-parters. Twilight’s Kingdom and To Where and Back Again are my others. I HATED The Mean Six btw. I found it a pathetic return for Queen Chrysalis and extremely anticlimactic. It’s the only episode I genuinely hate. There are some I dislike a bit but that’s the only one I hate.

A large inspiration to how Poisoned Lipgloss sounds is PrinceWhateverer. I love his music and I admire him greatly.

Sorry for the long post!! You guys can ask me anything on my opinions on the show!! Just a reminder, my blog is NOT suitable for minors, so please keep out!

[jewfrogs]

Heyo! Your posts about Greek myths not being fanfiction (excellently said ) but also that retelling have roots and reasons, how would you class the percy Jackson series, could it be fanfiction about the myths? And how would you class very loose retellings of myths, for example Uyllesse Dies At Dawn the album by The Mechanisms?

hello! that post seems so ancient to me, it’s wild that it’s going around again…..

i don’t disagree with anything i said, but i wish i’d drawn more on fan studies scholarship (remember that this is a subject of real, meaningful academic study!); nonetheless, what i wrote is similar to what seems to be the disciplinary consensus. the introduction to the fan fiction studies reader understands fanfiction as “historically situated in the last forty years, tending to respond to a specific form of media texts, and encompassing a specific amateur infrastructure for its creation, distribution, and reception.”[1] i would argue that these parameters are definitional, the pillars that make fanfic fanfic. i don’t believe fanfic can be fanfic without intention—that is, it’s not fanfic if you don’t know you’re writing fanfic.[2] ripping fanfic out of this framework deprives the form of meaning.

the works you mention are adaptations, which are another beast entirely.[3] linda hutcheon places adaptation alongside “imitation, allusion, parody, travesty, pastiche, and quotation as popular creative ways of deriving art from art”[4]—we might add fanfiction to this list. it is another way of deriving art from art, a way which happens within these “amateur infrastructures” of fan communities, which responds to a source with work inspired by and dependent on that source,[5] which is produced by and for fans and within fandom. fanfic occupies spaces that original fiction cannot. thus something cannot simultaneously be original fiction and fanfiction; they are mutually exclusive.[6]

re: greco-roman mythology specifically, i feel like we can safely say that this has been sufficiently absorbed into the social milieu as a “cultural universal”—to borrow a phrase from john djisenu[7]—that drawing on/responding to something so broad and ubiquitous is far distinct from writing a story about the characters and occurrences and settings of, say, one singular book series (with a single author, owner, publisher, etc.). classics are everywhere. classical adaptations, in various forms, far predate fanfic (and, in almost all of those forms, their aims and efforts are very, very different from fanfic). these are simply not the same. ask yourself: could someone post this on ao3? if not, it is not fanfic. rita dove would not post the darker face of the earth on ao3. it is not fanfic.

i appreciate your asking! have a delightful day! (footnotes under the cut)

[1] karen hellekson and kristina busse, the fan fiction studies reader (iowa city: university of iowa press, 2014): 7.

[2] i don’t mean this as any sort of moral maxim—people may write what we might call fanfic without knowing the word fanfic, such as a 7 year old writing a story where the my little ponies hang out with her, but overwhelmingly knowledge (and readership) of fanfic precedes production of fanfic. people who write fanfic are always aware that they are writing derivative, transformative fiction spun out of other fiction.

[3] with their own academic discipline! there is lots of literature in adaptation studies; as a sampler see thomas m. leitch (ed.), the oxford handbook of adaptation studies (oxford: oxford university press, 2017) and the oxford journal adaptation (started in 2008).

[4] linda hutcheon, “on the art of adaptation,” daedalus 133, no. 2 (2004): 109.

[5] this is not to diminish the artistic merit of fanfic, which can undoubtedly be beautiful and may be appreciated outside of its origins (i’ve read and loved my fair share of friends’ fic that i know nothing about), but it is naturally unable to stand alone; there is no fanfic if there is nothing to write fanfic about.

[6] this is why we see the phenomenon of “filing off the serial numbers” when people want to publish fanfic as original fiction; the work must be stripped of its nature and repainted to pass as something it is not. (this is also why that practice is only possible with fanfic that wasn’t very good to begin with—good fanfic is strongly rooted in its characters and canon [whether or not it is compliant with that canon].)

[7] john djisenu, “cross-cultural bonds between ancient greece and africa: implications of contemporary staging practices,” in lorna hardwick and carol gillespie (eds.), classics in post-colonial worlds (oxford: oxford university press, 2007): 72.

[deathclassic]

i was tagged by @you-are-so-much-better-than-that​​ and @mikhailoisbaby​​ to do this fic writer/artist tag! ive never seen an artist version of this so this is exciting :D

1. Do you post on Ao3? If so, how many works do you have on AO3? If not, where do you post?

i dont post art on ao3 but i post fics there,,,,not gonna say my username though

2. What is your total art count?

we gotta be like 500+ by now

3. What are your top 5 pieces by likes/kudos?

they’re all dan and phil surprise surprise i was surprised that the first one has 12k notes for some reason. im just going to link them

spooky week sketches  amazingphil shop spon PHIL QUIFF DEBUT!!! black ‘n’ white dan phil is not on fire collection

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try to but sometimes i forget and i also dont have notifcations on any social media turned on so i miss a lot of things

5. What is your current fandom, and what was the first fandom you drew for?

currently drawing for umbrella academy, shameless and stranger things. first fandom i properly drew for was one direction but i was drawing stuff for like panic at the disco and powerpuff girls and my little pony and my chemical romance when i was like 7

6. Have you ever received hate on any art?

tonnes lol, i’d say every 2-3 pieces i draw gets some kind of negative attention. recently there’s been an asshole in my asks accusing me of fetishising ian and mickey so thats something to look forward to every time i pose 

7. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t drawn for yet but want to?

i want to go back to shows i watched as a kid like total drama island and draw the characters in my art style, i did it with the winx club earlier this year and it was fun. i want to draw harringrove but im not mentally prepared to be like,,,sent death threats atm

8. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

i dont know tbh ian and mickey are up there i guess

9. Do you draw outside of fandom?

yeah im a graphic designer so i draw a lot of shit 

10. What’s the an art piece you’ve drawn that came out completely differently than you expected?

this one actually

11. Do you draw smut?

sometimes

12. Have you ever had any of your art stolen or copied?

yeah of course, someone sells my shit on redbubble and i have to keep reporting them

13. Have you ever collaborated on a piece?

yes! @mishervellous​ and i did that amazing comic together for gallacrafts and im so proud of that! also collaborated with a lot of dan and phil artists to make a calendar, a phil is not on fire poster and some general collabs for fun (if anyone wants to collab hmu bc im down)

14. What’s an idea you have that you have yet to draw?

i really want to draw drummer mickey for some reason

15. What are your drawing strengths?

people i guess, maybe like details on clothes and stuff?

16. What are your drawing weaknesses?

hands and feet lol

17. What’s your favorite art piece you’ve drawn?

im so proud of this drawing even though no one really liked it, like looking at it makes me so happy

18. What is one thing you’d like to tell people about your art that they might not know?

like harvey said haha i also use the same colour palette especially skin tones and hair colours also i sketch a lot of the drawings traditionally and then trace over it on photoshop

19. What inspires or motivates you to create for fandom?

myself. i would still be drawing even if no one notices it. heck i draw so much stranger things stuff only for a top of 10 people across instagram, twitter and tumblr to interact with it. 

20. And finally, can you describe your process a little? Do you have a favourite place to draw? Do you play something in the background? Do you do research or just go for it? Give us a little insight

i sit at my desk and use a wacom tablet and my laptop. I have my other laptop open and im normally listening to a tv show that ive seen so i dont have to pay attention or a play through of a game or some creepy stories. sometimes i listen to music on my record player. i always spend ages looking at pose references and rage quitting when i dont draw it right the first time before coming back to it a few hours later. i draw mostly in the evenings, after dinner. sometimes i drink a hot chocolate if its late enough lol. 

im gonna tag @mishervellous​ @doodlevich​ @heymrspatel​ @adakechi​ 

[myreygn]

random hcs for parker’s ocs

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @knizmokat, i hope you have the most amazing day, ilysm!!

i really hope you like these because trust me when i say random i mean random, but i tried my best for you! <3

(also it’s almost 3am here so if my brain isn’t fully fried it’s your birthday already, I AM POSTING THIS NOW)

.....

SASHA

unable to draw anything aside from stick figures and even those are ugly af

his art teacher insisted that everyone can draw until she saw sasha’s work

when the rest of the class gets a new assignment, she allows him to write an analysis over a painting of his choice instead and sasha is more than fine with that

almost always has his hair in a pony tail but unable to do a bun

asahi tried to teach him for 30 minutes and almost cried because it just kept felling apart for no apparent reason

picks the most terrifying stuff you could think of for movie night

managed to scare suga with one of his horror movie picks and has been banned from choosing anything other than u-rated movies ever since

physically unable to sleep without his kirby plushie

a gymnastically talented little mf, can do cartwheels and splits and walk on his hands like it’s nbd

once made a front flip over his hands during practice, scoring a point for his team by hitting the ball over the net with his feet

the absolute proudest moment of his life and he’s still mad that no one has it on video

RYUZAKI

unfazed by tragic movies but fucking bawled his eyes out over encanto (you know why parker)

has all of his fineliners sorted by color and will never ever let noya borrow them in class after doing it once and almost getting a stroke from the sheer chaos that ensued

a little control freak in general

all of his stuff has a designated place and if it’s not where it’s supposed to be he’ll die

open to all kinds of music but an absolute elitist when it comes to “the big ones”

do not talk to him about the history of rock and metal unless you’ve memorized every dio song in existence

also has zero tolerance for any so called disrespect towards his greatest musical inspirations

blocked tanaka for saying “poison? the rita ora song?” and only unblocked him after daichi scolded him for being an idiot

cannot handle horror at all

can and will sucker punch noya for giving him a scare in a devil mask out of reflex

halloween is the bane of his existence

KOGANEI

an absolute athletic multi talent

there’s no sport in existence this man can’t do

show him how to swing a baseball bat and he says “oh like this?” and scores a homerun

he’s also a theatre kid but only the dancey stuff so newsies is right up his alley

can do the entire choreography for king of new york and also hit the high note in santa fe

sails through all his classes as we’ve already established and once sang the build up from before the breakdown from we are the tigers under his breath, making akaashi cry

“‘cause you’re the score you got on sats...” - “YOU GOT A FUCKING 110 I’M BEGGING YOU TO SHUT THE HELL UP”

can do a perfect impression of kermit the frog and it’s a hit at parties

an adrenaline junkie at amusement parks (same tho he has good taste)

it cannot be high, fast or dangerous enough

“there’s no such thing as too many loopings!”

laughs at dad jokes

KUROSAKI

quotes old movies like it’s nobody’s business

once muttered “see how love flies out the door” at the sight of yamamoto and lev fighting for the last piece of roast beef and got absolutely ecstatic when kuroo turned around and went “did you just make a cabaret reference”

literally don’t ask him if he’s seen any movie made after the 90s. he hasn’t.

knows a shit ton of stuff about astrology

knew everyone’s sun and moon sign by their personalities alone

“wow so you believe in that?!” “nah”

can nap everywhere and it’s a gift until one day he falls asleep during a practice match and gets one of bokuto’s spikes in the face

he’s in the hospital for two days but he claims it was worth it

also a theatre kid but only for the classics

thinks west side story is an unmatched masterpiece and will not listen to anyone who has a different opinion

lactose intolerant but cheese is too good

KEITA

really into scrapbooking

has tons of scrapbooks for all kinds of stuff he likes

made one for each third year about their time on the team together and gives it to them at the end of the year (they all cry)

has the most beautiful handwriting known to man

he once gave goshiki his notes for studying and goshiki thought he had used some super fancy font on microsoft word

will not leave the house without nail polish on and always has a spare bottle with him

would rather die than admit it but he loves ghibli movies

the tale of the princess kaguya is his favorite (BECAUSE HE HAS TASTE) and he has very strong opinions about ponyo

like. way too strong opinions, considering that it’s ponyo.

it makes him cry

refuses to participate in tendou’s whistling contests and claims it’s stupid but actually just can’t whistle and is too ashamed to admit it

snorts when he laughs too hard which absolutely infuriates him

DAISUKE

this man can fucking BAKE

brings a bunch of cupcakes to practice to surprise iwaizumi on his birthday and everyone is floored

they look like pinterest photos fr

creates his own recipes and sometimes posts them online, they all have at least 4.8 stars

people always assume he’s all bark no bite but he’ll try to fuck you up if you’re mean to his friends (only he’s allowed to be!!)

got into a fight over some jackasses making fun of watari and lost because it was five against one so kyoutani saved him and soaked all of them

no regrets

participates in a poetry slam when he loses a bet against matsuhana and reads one of his raps as if it was a simple poem

comes in first place, rubs their noses into it for weeks

oikawa tried to get him into musicals but he only likes hamilton because of the rap in it and oikawa is not amused

scribbles little comics all over his notes and it kills his teachers (which is part of the reason why he does it)

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Haunted | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! As we all know, Taylor Swift released RED (Taylor's Version) today, so I thought it would be appropriate for me to post a T-Swift inspired fic! @mandersshow texted me this song the other day and said it was perfect for a Bucky fic and she was 100% correct! This one's a little longer than my usual stuff, just fyi!

As always, send any comments, questions, or suggestions my way! :)

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito, @shadytalementality, @everything-burns-down, @rainbow-unicorn-pony, @mandersshow 💜💜💜

Warning: reader injury

“Come on, come on, don't leave me like this,

I thought I had you figured out,

Can't breathe whenever you're gone,

Can't turn back now, I'm haunted.”

Two nights. You and Bucky had been sharing a bed for only two nights when he left without warning. It took almost a year for you to build up the courage to tell him how you felt about him, and the intense relief you experienced when he reciprocated your feelings was all-consuming.

It took another week for Bucky to be comfortable sharing a bed with you, not wanting to scare you away if he had a night terror. But the past two nights were perfect, almost directly recreating the fantasies you'd had of him over the last year. Rolling over in the middle of the night and draping yourself across his broad chest felt like the epitome of safety.

But it wasn't quite as safe as you'd thought.

That second night, a sharp pain in your right forearm ripped you from your slumber. Still half asleep, you attempted to adjust yourself, but you were unable to shake the source of the discomfort. Your eyes opened to find Bucky's vibranium hand wrapped around your wrist, getting ever tighter as he muttered frantically under his breath in Russian. Pulling and twisting did nothing to free your wrist from his grip and you knew that if you didn't get him to let go soon, he'd snap your arm like a twig.

"Buck, wake up, babe,” you said, just above a whisper. He didn’t stir. A violent shock of pain jolted through you as he gripped tighter. The impending fracture was sure to be close behind.

“Bucky, baby, I need you to wake up, okay?” You still managed a soothing tone, careful not to scare him. But he didn’t wake.

Another shock of pain set your nerves alight and pushed you to raise your voice. “Buck, come on,” you begged. “Wake up! Wake- ow- UP!”

He woke with a gasp and finally released your wrist, but the evidence of his grasp remained.. Indigo bruises were beginning to form, perfectly illustrating the shape of his hand. They curved around your wrist in a bluish-purple ring, staining your skin with the memory.

Bucky apologized a million times over. He got you ice and ibuprofen. He held you gently and whispered apologies against your hair over and over again. You promised him that you forgave him, that it was all okay, that it wasn't his fault.

But he didn't go back to sleep that night- he couldn't trust himself.

And by the next night, he was gone. You'd rolled over in the middle of the night, hands searching the sheets for Bucky's warm body. But they came up empty. You waited for a while, hoping he’d return from the kitchen after a late night snack. But he never reappeared.

It was abundantly clear that he'd left when you turned on the lamp on the bedside table and found his boots, duffel bag, and leather jacket missing. A panicked call to Steve asking if Bucky had been sent on a last-minute mission was your only hope, but when Steve told you that no such mission existed, your heart shattered.

You couldn't bring yourself to stop sleeping in Bucky's bed, no matter how sad it made you. The sheets still smelled like him; it was your only comfort. It was if his ghost still slept in that bed with you every night, filling your head with dreams of his return- but you woke up every morning disappointed. Gutted. Up until this point, you hadn't known that sadness was a physical sensation. But the deep ache that took up residence in your chest never relented. It was worse than a migraine, worse than a vibranium hand threatening to snap your bones. No amount of sleep or ibuprofen could dull the sensation.

Bucky’s outgoing message was the only way you ever got to hear his voice. And as the days passed, you'd learned the message by heart:

"You've reached James Bucky Barnes. Uh, leave a message, I guess..."

The warm timber in his voice, the gruff sound that underlined his every word, gave you 6 seconds of peace. And after the beep, you’d pour your heart out to him. You told him that you missed him, that you needed him- but he never called back.

On what felt like the millionth day without him, you placed a call to him like you did every morning. But his soothing voice didn’t appear after the many unanswered rings. Instead, a robotic voice on the other end of the line told you that Bucky's voicemail box was full; he couldn't receive any more messages. Then the line went dead. You wondered if you'd ever hear Bucky's voice again. Grief ripped through your chest as though he'd died. This was pain, this was loss.

Steve came and sat with you sometimes, bringing you food and catching you up on how the rest of the team was doing. He made sure you drank some water, at least. Nat would visit you too, putting your hair in intricate braids and giving you all the secrets she had on everyone. They were doing their best.

Eventually, Steve and Nat came to see you together. This was different, unexpected. They usually took turns visiting you. And instead of sitting with you while you ate or asking how you were, they simply stood near the end of the bed. It was awkward, uncomfortable.

“Okay, um. We know…” Nat sighed. “We now everyone deals with things in their own way-”

“But you can't keep watching New Moon," Steve interjected. "It's not healthy."

"Guys, I'm-I'm fine. Really,” you lied. “It's just a movie- a shirt movie at that. And it’s not a big deal."

Nat and Steve exchanged a worried glance as they observed you sitting alone in Bucky's bed like a dog who'd been abandoned at the pound. you were waiting for him- it was obvious. And your friends feared you were going full Bella Swan: siting inside, staring into nothingness as the months passed without your participation.

Nat and Steve whispered and argued right there in front of you, debating about your well being. "Let her have her movie," Nat raised her voice just a bit. "It’s not doing any harm. And she... she needs it". Steve conceded and left the room, muttering about how this was a “pointless” endeavor.

"Do you wanna talk about... anything?" Nat asked, but you just shook your head.

A few nights later, you left Bucky's room for a cup of tea around midnight when you heard Steve having what sounded like a very private conversation on the phone. You stealthily crept closer to him, zeroing in on his words without being noticed. "

No, hey- hey, seriously. Listen to me, Buck" he whispered. Your heart stopped and tears suddenly welled in your eyes. Why would Bucky take Steve's calls and not yours? Why would he ignore you like this? You began to spiral down a dark, heartbreaking rabbit hole but pulled yourself out to continue eavesdropping on Steve.

"You have to come back...” Steve said. “You being gone is hurting her way more than-"

Curiosity got the best of you and you entered the kitchen, making Steve's words catch in his throat. "Let me-uh, let me call you back later, Sharon..." he said as he hung up, trying to play off his secret conversation.

"I know you were talking to him," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. Steve dropped the charade and nodded, a guilty look splashing across his face.

"I'm so sorry, but I-"

"Don’t. You've been lying to me this whole time,” you said, a small tremor in your voice. This wasn’t just anger. It was rage, it was hurt. “You've been talking to him and- and why won't he answer when I call? I just-" a sob strangled your attempts to speak. Your knees buckled beneath you, giving out under the weight of your anguish. Steve rushed to your side, catching you before you could hit the cold, stone floor. He carried you to Bucky's room and held you as you cried.

The entire time Bucky had been gone, you hadn't let yourself really cry- only a few tears every so often- in order to prevent something like this. This was catharsis, open floodgates, and uninhibited sobs that came from the soul. Steve whispered words of comfort every now and then and let you completely ruin his shirt with your tears until you tired yourself out. He carefully tucked you in under Bucky's comforter and brushed your hair out of your face before quietly leaving the room. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Bucky's number, anxious to tell Bucky how badly you needed him.

You woke the next morning with what felt like an apocalyptic headache, no doubt a side effect of your previous night's emotional purge. On the bedside table sat two ibuprofen and a glass of water, along with a note from Steve that read "feel better". You tossed back the ibuprofen and desperately chugged the water in an attempt to replace all the tears you'd lost. You rolled your head from side to side, releasing the tension that had accumulated in your neck the night before- and then your heart stopped.

Bucky's trusty leather jacket and boots sat by the bedroom door in their usual spot, and his duffel bag laid near the closet.

This wasn’t real- was it? Had you finally lost your mind? "Uhh, Bucky?" you called out tentatively. It was entirely possible that you were dreaming, or even hallucinating. You told yourself not to get your hopes up or expect anything- it would only lead to more heartbreak. And you weren’t sure you could handle an extra dose.

The bathroom door swung open and Bucky sheepishly walked out in just a pair of jeans, his hair wet from the shower. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You're... when did you get back?" you finally said, your words dripping with disbelief.

"About an hour ago..." he said. "I wanted to shower before I saw you though, I was in rough shape and-"

"You were in rough shape?" you nearly yelled. "Buck, I've been a fucking mess. I-I haven't been able to breathe since you’ve been gone. And there's been this fucking hole in my chest and-” you paused only to take a sharp inhale. “I knew there would be challenges in our relationship and that we’d have a fragile line to walk but…”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I thought we were good. I thought we had it figured out. And then you- why'd you leave me like that? You just disappeared in the middle of the night.” Flashbacks of that night tore through you, filling you with a familiar agony. “And why wouldn't you call me back? Didn't you realize that hurt me? That I've dying here without you?"

Bucky nodded along as you spoke. He knew he messed up. He didn’t expect you to immediately welcome him back with open arms. Shame coursed through his veins. "I don't really know what to say... aside from the fact that I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.” He couldn’t believe just how badly he’d messed up. He could believe he’d jeopardized your relationship like this. You were the only person he wanted, the person he cares about most. And he ruined it.

“I hurt you that night and so I- I thought that if I wasn't around, it would be better... somehow. I couldn't hurt you if I wasn't here, you know?" Bucky struggled to keep his emotions in check. He found himself tripping over sobs again and again, choking on the tears. "Babe, I left so that I wouldn't hurt you. I thought it was- I don't know... safer. For you.” He shook his head, “But I really fucking hurt you by leaving. I know that now. I know I ruined everything we had. Leaving was a mistake, and I-"

"It wasn't just that you left!" you said, sinking into a wave of despair. "Buck, you didn't even say goodbye. I didn't get a text or a letter or even a fucking sticky note on the bathroom mirror.” The emptiness of his time away made you shudder. “You ignored my texts. My calls. My emails. And all the while you were talking to Steve?” The betrayal punched a hole through your chest. “I just- I was in this room every night. In your bed. Alone. Holding on to nothing.”

“I know…” Bucky didn’t know what else to say. What to do. He only knew he was wrong.

A sob pushed its way through your anger, through your frustration. Your words wavered. “It’s been- it’s been too quiet. And I missed you so goddamn much. Buck, you’re all I wanted. You know that don’t you?”

He nodded.

“And I know- I know you left because you're afraid of hurting me, but I'd rather have a bruise or even a fucking fracture than this hole in my chest."

Silence crept in and your words hung in the air. Bucky stood rooted in place, weighed down by his shame. Tears flooded his cheeks and dropped down his bare chest. This was how he spent his time away- drowning in despair. He was miserable, lonely. Leaving you hurt him more than Hydra ever did. He’d only wanted to protect you, to save you from himself. He knew he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t worthy of you.

He didn’t know what to do. He was back, he was home. But he had penance to pay. He had amends to make with you. Surely, you needed time. Space. Surely, you needed to heal. To rebuild the trust Bucky burned to the ground.

"Fuck, come here", you almost begged.

Bucky made his way across the room in a few quick strides. He knew he didn’t deserve to touch you, to hold you, but he wasn’t about to argue. He threw his arms around your waist and gave you the almost-suffocating hug that you'd missed so much. You reached up and locked your arms around his neck, pulling him as close to you as physically possible. For a moment, the two of you just stood there, locked in the embrace. Your breathing synced with his and finally, the hole in your chest began to heal.

Bucky pressed his mouth against your neck and left a warm, gentle kiss on your pulse. He buried his face in your hair and took a deep breath, realizing how much he'd missed the way you smell. "I promise- I swear to god that I will never do that again,” he whispered. "I'm gonna stay right here with you- always".

[ponypuffle]

Luna Tour ~ Chapter 1

A/N: Oh, look! It's the first chapter to my very first multi-chapter story that I've posted! This is my second idea for a multi-chapter story with Luna specifically, but since I've already written the first as one-shots before, I decided to prioritize this one! It's inspired by Centaurworld's "Elk Tour Suite Pt. 2", but we haven't quite reached that part for this chapter <3 (also pls tell me if you guys would like a male version of luna for this same story)

Masterlist + Series Warnings

Pairing: Princess Luna x Fem! Alicorn! Reader

Summary: [Alternate Universe!] As one of the many royal ponies of Equestria, you have been put into an arranged marriage with Princess Celestia. Despite the arrangement, you found yourself falling for your fiance's sister, Princess Luna.

Warning(s): arranged marriage, possessive! mean! princess celestia, mentions of mild violence (lmk if i've missed something)

Word Count: 900+

You peered around the corner into the dark corridor of the castle. All you had to do was make this final trek down this hallway to meet your destination, and luckily for you, there were seemingly no guards around. You hurriedly walked with careful hoofsteps. You knocked softly on the grand doors, feathers ruffled in excitement.

The door opened up, a snout peeking just through the crack. There was Princess Luna, a soft smile across her lips. “No one saw you, right?” She whispered.

“Of course not. No one ever does.” You leaned forward to touch the end of your snout to hers. What you told her was true. It was always true. Not because you wanted to, but because you had to. You couldn’t let anypony know about you and Luna. You could only imagine the repercussions.

You were a princess to be married to Princess Celestia. It was an arranged marriage, and as much time as you spent with Celestia, your relationship was never meant to be. Celestia could be self-centered and overzealous, sometimes to the point of being cruel to others. Instead of Celestia, you found yourself falling in love with Princess Luna.

Luna opened the door to let you in, shutting it once you were out of sight from any lingering guards. “Did raising the moon go well?” You asked, making your way to the hanging porch of her room.

“Same as always.” Luna sighed, following close behind you. “The moon and stars are raised, yet no pony seems to care except for you.” She stared up at the sky with those saddened eyes. It always made your heart clench seeing her like this, distraught that her beautiful night was hardly appreciated in comparison to Celestia’s brilliant day.

You nudged her softly, letting yourself nuzzle against her in an attempt to comfort her. You found that simple gestures of affection worked a lot better than words. After a few moments, Luna finally fell into a lull of peace. She set a kiss on the top of your head before stepping away from you to flap her wings up into the sky.

“You coming?” She stuck her tongue out playfully then turned to launch herself at an especially fluffy cloud. You laughed and followed along, happy to see her spirits up once again, even if it was only for a little while. You flew straight into the cloud you saw Luna go in, peeking your head out the top as you tried to catch a glimpse of her within the puffy mess.

“Luna!” You sang out, pushing your way through the cloud as if it was thick snow. “Where’d you-” You were interrupted as you let out a squeak of surprise only to burst out in laughter. Luna had snuck behind you, catching you off guard.

Unbeknownst to you and Luna, Celestia had grown suspicious. Of course, you behaved like the perfect little fiance for Celestia, and believed you were at first. You always did your best to tend to her needs and you always looked so elegant beside her whenever the two of you were on one of your outings.

That was before, though. After some time, she noticed how the two of you would look at each other when you thought she wasn’t looking or how the two of you were always constantly whispering and giggling to each other. She still remembers the moment that had almost set her in stone that there was more than friendship going on between you and Luna.

The night had brought yet another gala of which you’d be presented as Celestia’s beautiful fiance. You were wearing a gorgeous, sheer dress that laid on your body so perfectly. You were her pride. Everyone would get to see that you’re hers, that the two of you were the perfect match.

At least, that’s what was supposed to happen. You were there for the first hour or so, but when she had sought you to show off to the next crowd of delegates and business ponies, you had vanished. If there weren’t so many ponies watching her, she would have been fuming. Instead, she made the effort to occasionally scan the room in between the momentary lapses of laughter.

Eventually, her eyes settled on you. You were just along the outskirts of the mass, hiding in the shadows. She squinted her eyes to figure out who dared take away what belonged to her. They even had the audacity to make her laugh like that! Then, she finally saw the blue coat of her sister. As much as she wanted to do something about it, she was caught in the crowd, and she had no real proof of Luna interfering with your relationship.

Now, she had the proof. She glared at Luna who was getting much too close to you to merely be considered friends. She had been distracted from some late night paperwork by the sound of your lovely laugh only to be greeted by betrayal. Everything that Celestia had concluded proved to be true when she spotted the both of you kissing on a cloud.

Fury raged through Celestia’s veins, and it took all of her to stay in her room instead of launching herself at Luna to hold her by the throat. If she wanted to keep you as her little trophy wife, she had to ensure you still trusted her. If you knew she punished Luna or even hurt her, Celestia would’ve been the last person you’d ever want to marry.

Instead, she bided her time. You were going to be hers.

[lily-orchard-gossip-blog]

Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.

(I apologize ahead of time for the length of this submission. With how much Lily has lied and misrepresented her position over the years, I wanted to be as thorough as possible.)

I noticed something interesting in Lily's "Accusations Masterpost." I won't be addressing all of her points, otherwise I'd be here forever, but it'd be remiss of me not to talk about any discrepancies I picked up on.

In her first point, she once again denies writing Stockholm, with her newest narrative being it was actually another story entirely: "Scars." According to Lily, this story was meant to "[skewer] and [condemn] the brony fandom’s romanticizing of abuse and their excusing of pedophilia," but was later altered by "angry bronies," who, according to Lily, were the ones that added its pedophilic content and reposted it on sites like FiMFetch, as a way to discredit Lily's talking points against them.

Except, this is provably false. Scars is actually a rebranding of Lily's "Tale of the Valkyrie" story, which was originally a Family Guy fan fiction titled "Whispering Illusion," written before Lily had transitioned, and while she was still going under the moniker "Bhaalspawn." Bhaalspawn is Lily, as shown when you look the two names up together in a search engine:

And if we search her old moniker with the words "Whispering Illusion," this is what comes up:

The oldest iteration of Whispering Illusion appears to have been lost to time, but there's no evidence, on the current page or in any of its past revisions, to indicate that the story was originally meant to be a critique of the Brony community's supposed abuse and pedophilia problem. It instead revolves around Lily's character, Matthew Ryder - who would later become Valithria Ryder - and him being given magic abilities by God (later changed to Athena in TotV, and then to Jehova) after Matthew's death. Not only that, but the wiki page dates Whispering Illusion as being published on October 30th of 2008, four years before Lily is now claiming to have written the first version of Scars.

The page also gives us insight into Lily's conflict with another fan fiction author, Ander Arias, who is mentioned in the "Debate Thread Incident" further down. If we search Bhaalspawn together with Ander Arias' name, this comes up:

The link highlighted with a red rectangle leads to a fanfiction-style interview between Ander Arias and Lily Orchard, who was still going under the name Bhaalspawn. It's difficult to say when this specific chapter was posted, but the fic was first published April 18th of 2009, with the final chapter being added on June 17th of 2011. I bring this up because, presumably, Ander Arias and Lily were on good terms when the interview was uploaded, aiding in its credibility, but had a falling out sometime after, which lead to Lily talking negatively about Ander Arias on the fanfiction wiki in August of 2011:

Meaning, yet again, the earliest version of Scars could not have been written in 2012, as Lily claims.

That's not the end of it, though. The interview itself is a discussion taking place between Lily and Ander Arias' characters, Sophie and Rosie. In it, Lily is asked what her inspiration for Tale of the Valkyrie was. She gives this as a response:

Again, there is no evidence provided here to back up Lily's claims that the story that would become Scars was used as a way to critique the brony community. Not only does the timeline she's attempting to establish in her masterpost not line up on two accounts, but there is no mentioning of My Little Pony, bronies, or pedophilia/abuse of any kind in this interview. Why? Most likely because Whispering Illusion and Tale of the Valkyrie were written before Lily began watching My Little Pony. And while it's difficult to say when her first video about MLP was posted, as she's deleted anything predating her involvement in the brony community, Lily's page on the MLP fandom wiki wasn't created until September 20th of 2012, as seen here:

There is, however, a crossover between Tale of the Valkyrie and My Little Pony listed on Lily's MLP fandom page. The story, titled "Doomsday Ascending," was never finished, but featured a character Lily would later go on to use in Stockholm: Ascentia Kortai, the love interest of Twilight Sparkle. The other character mentioned on the page is Megan Ryder; she's based on Family Guy character Meg Griffin, who was Matthew Ryder's love interest in Whispering Illusion.

But that's still not the end of it. In her second point, Lily brings attention to a situation where she supposedly "encouraged a friend to groom a minor." As Lily herself states, this is in reference to a real person ship between her former friend, Joshscorcher, and the artist Ink Rose. At the time, Josh was an adult, and Ink Rose was underage. Lily attempts to wash her hands of any involvement by saying she was being "pressured" to go along with the ship under threat of harassment, and also claims her reason for doing so was because she had been previously sent death threats for "not liking Team Fortress 2." No evidence is provided to back any of this up.

What interested me the most about this, however, was Lily referencing an old post about the ship on Josh's blog, which I managed to find:

That's strange. Not only does Lily not seem offput over answering a question about something she implied made her very uncomfortable - with her even going so far in as to insist Josh and Inkrose were "made for each other" - the final paragraph stands out for one big reason:

Which story could she be referring to here, I wonder? I just can't figure it out. Of course, even if she somehow isn't talking about Stockholm, the fact that Lily - who vehemently decries pedophilia any chance she gets - would so flippantly admit to writing about such a serious topic in a lighthearted manner, and then go on to use that as an excuse for why her adult friend should date a minor, while saying it isn't a big deal because said minor won't be underage for much longer, says volumes about her as a person.

In conclusion? Lily is lying, again. And this time, she isn't even doing it well.

[not-a-coral-snake]

for the @lamenweek Day 6 prompt: Auguste Lives Au

inspired by this post by @skyline-sunset-in-my-veins and @phoenixtcm

“When I am in Arles this fall,” Damianos says, words soft in the summer sunset air around them, “I will kneel before your brother the king and ask his permission to court you.” He pauses, smile just the slightest bit cocky. Laurent is lounging, hair mussed and shirt trailing half-opened laces, in Damen’s arms. “Court you officially, I mean.” 

“You are going to Arles for the negotiations yourself this year?” Laurent says. Seated as they are, Damen cannot mistake the shudder of tension, quickly repressed, that runs through Laurent at Damen’s words.

“You haven’t told him yet,” he says. 

“It’s just I thought that the ambassador—”

“You haven’t told him yet,” Damen says again. “You said when I saw you last fall that you would tell him last winter for sure.” He tries not to sound accusatory, but well. It is not the first time they have had this conversation.

“I haven’t told him yet,” Laurent concedes. It should not be so hard. It’s been six years since Marlas. Vere and Akielos are at peace. Laurent is in the habit of sharing nearly everything with Auguste, and yet— 

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” he says, as he always does. “It’s a sensitive matter, I wish to catch him in the right mood, lest he make up his mind before hearing me out.” 

“And you’re afraid of hurting him,” Damen says, as he always does.

“And I want to ensure I don’t hurt him. So I have to find the right time—”

“It’s been years now,” Damen cuts in. “Should we believe that, somehow, the perfect moment will occur this summer, when it did not last winter, or last spring, or the summer before that?”

“Damen—”

“This can just be a fling, if you want,” Damen says, gently.

‘That’s not what I—no,” says Laurent. Damen’s never said that before. 

“We can just keep meeting a few times a year. It doesn’t need to be serious. It doesn’t need to be something we tell others about.”

“Damen, stop,” Laurent says. “No. I want to court you. I want it to be official. I want it to be serious.”

“Well, then let it become serious.”

“I’ll tell him this time,” Laurent says. He can do this. It’s been six years since Marlas. Auguste always speaks of Prince Damianos in respectful tones. Laurent picks up Damen’s hand, kisses his knuckles. “Promise.”

And Laurent means to tell Auguste that summer, he really does. He meant to upon his return last fall as well, and the time before that, and the time before that. It’s just that—well, it’s just that every time he returns from diplomatic visits to Delfeur or Ios, he’s struck again with the slow, deliberate way that Auguste moves now. Each year as late spring ripens into summer, he sees how it saddens Auguste that he still no longer has the vigor or endurance for hunts or long rides or anything more taxing than a slow turn around the gardens. Each year as fall deepens into winter, he sees how another year has gone by and the cold makes Auguste’s injuries ache just as much as they had the winter before. 

Auguste had nearly died on the battlefield at Marlas. But that wasn’t the whole of it. Even after he had survived the trip home to Arles, he almost died of fever, of wound rot, of the pneumonia his battle-damaged lungs nearly couldn’t shake. And he almost died of assassination, not one time but many. There were few ways to kill a king in the peak of youth and health without attracting undue suspicion, but endless subtle ways to hasten the death of a man in his sickbed. Their uncle, left to rule the court unchecked, had tried seemingly most of them, endless schemes which Laurent had only barely managed to avert and which left behind no conclusive evidence for Laurent to show the court. Even as Auguste had gained strength, the schemes had continued, until the day Laurent gave up trying to beat his uncle while playing by his uncle’s own rules and had simply arranged an accident of his own. 

After that, Auguste was safe, but the fallout from their uncle’s years ruling the court and admittedly-suspicious death left him with nearly as many enemies as allies. As prince, Auguste had been universally adored. As king, he faced a yearslong struggle to regain the allegiance of erstwhile allies. 

And all this was, at its root, because of Marlas. Because of Damianos. Auguste’s history with Damen wasn’t just the matter of an injury six years ago, not when that injury had colored every day of his life since. And Laurent can’t imagine a way of telling him that he loves Damen, wants a future with him, without it sounding like a betrayal. 

To make matters more awkward, Auguste has, for whatever reason, gotten it into his head to nag Laurent about romance. It’s uncomfortable enough to be keeping his relationship with Damen a secret from Auguste. It’s worse to lie, outright or by omission, every time Auguste asks him if there’s anyone Laurent is interested in pursuing. 

And then— “You know you can tell me anything, little brother,” Auguste says quietly, a few minutes after Laurent has let a conversation about an overly-flirtatious marquis from Lys lapse. 

Laurent swallows, mutely cataloging the darker corners of his past. He does not like to lie to Auguste. But he does.

And there are things he probably will never tell his brother about, things Auguste does not need to know, but also— “Actually, Auguste,” he makes himself say. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

And then he pauses, because he still hasn’t figured out a semi-workable phrasing. I’m in love with Prince Damianos, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still upset about what he did to you. I’m fucking the man who almost killed you, and I’m sorry but also I won’t stop. I know seeing the prince of Akielos this fall will probably be terrible for you but also when he asks to court me please say yes.

It’s Auguste who rescues him, after a moment or two of expectant silence. “Is this going to be you finally telling me about your romantic entanglement with Prince Damianos?” he says. “Because honestly, I’m getting sick of seeing you walking around looking guilty and sad all the time.”

“You knew?” Laurent says.

“Of course I knew! You, dear baby brother, are not very subtle. And I’ve had to hear all your reports from the negotiations with Akielos twice a year. Was I somehow not supposed to notice how you gradually stopped insulting Damianos and started telling me about all his varied and impressive positive traits?”

“I said that he was straightforward and committed to the good of his people, and thus that the negotiations were likely to be a productive use of time!”

“And then the trip after that, you said that he was an innovative thinker, a natural leader, and you couldn’t help but admire his tenacity. You said you didn’t mind having to go on hunts with him, which anyone who knows you understands is a major compliment, and when you said he was patient, you smiled that quiet smile of yours that means you are remembering something that made you very happy.”

“Auguste—”

“And yet! Whenever anyone suggests you have developed any fondness for the man, you deny it. Why go to such lengths to conceal a friendly working relationship?”

“Auguste—”

“And honestly, brother, even back when you hated him, I couldn’t help but notice you mentioned his appearance rather a lot. You were always complaining that he was ridiculously tall, or offensively muscular, or something along those lines.”

“I said he was a brute!”

“You also said that his eyes were, and I quote, ‘disgustingly soulful.’ Oh, and the letters! Was I not supposed to notice that in the last year your correspondence with the prince of Akielos has roughly quadrupled in volume and frequency, even as the official negotiations are reaching a standstill? There isn’t enough policy discussion to account for a tenth of the letters you write. There isn’t enough policy discussion to justify you going to Delfeur in person twice a year, and yet you insist on overseeing things personally each time anyway.”

“Auguste, I’m sorry, all right? I know that this must have been painful for you to witness, and I don’t want you to think I don’t care about everything you’ve been through.” He swallows. “But I don’t want to stop seeing Damianos.”

“All right.”

“‘’All right?’ You’re okay with it? Just like that?”

“He makes you happy. If your judgement of him is to be believed, then he sounds like a worthy man. And I trust your judgement.”

“But he stabbed you. And now I’m sleeping with him.”

“Well, we were at war. And it was years ago. And I’m fine. We’re at peace, the nation’s moving on, you’ve moved on in your opinion of him, I can move on as well.”

“It’s not that simple!”

“Why can’t it be? I only met him for about ten minutes. I’m sure there’s more to him than he revealed in a single duel. You have my blessing, Laurent.”

“How can you just—”

“Remember when your pony threw you and you broke your collarbone?”

“This is not the same, this is not even close to the same—”

“You snuck out of the infirmary to go to the stables and tell Chuckles you weren’t mad at him.”

“I was seven, he meant me no ill will, and the bone healed in a month. Also he was a horse,” Laurent grits out. “Damianos was—is—a grown man, responsible for his choices, the injuries he inflicted did lasting damage, and he was trying to kill you.”

“Well, no one is asking you to sleep with him,” Auguste says, in his reasonable-big-brother voice. 

Laurent lets out a breath, sits back in his chair. “I started managing the negotiations with Akielos so that you wouldn’t have to speak with him,” he says. “We said that it was because I could travel more easily, that it was because you could not justify spending so much time away from court. But in truth, I did not want you to have to be in a room with him, to have to learn to make polite conversation with him and pretend that Marlas did not happen, that it didn’t matter. If I have come to know him as far more than just the soldier who attacked you, if I have put his past actions behind me, come to care for him in spite of them—that does not mean I expect you to do the same. Could ever ask you to do the same.” 

“You’ve always been protecting me, all these years,” Auguste says softly. “Don’t think I don’t know it, or appreciate it. But let me be the protective big brother again once in a while? You’ve learned to let the past go and let yourself have the present you want with Damianos, because you’re in love with him. Allow me to let the past go and have the future I want, where my little brother is happy.”

He’s looking Laurent in the eye, gaze steady, and slowly Laurent allows himself to believe that Auguste is serious, that in his heart of hearts, he does not mind. That he is happy for Laurent. 

“Thank you,” he says. “For your blessing.” 

“Of course,” Auguste says. And then, “Well, when I say you have my blessing, I mean informally, of course. Prince Damianos will have to ask me himself.”

“You just want the chance to make him squirm,” Laurent says. 

“I just want the chance to make him squirm,” Auguste concedes, and he and Laurent break into quiet laughter, imagining it.

[colorful-horses]

💐 ?

💐 - who’s your favourite mlp blog?

I don't know if I have a Single favorite blogger, so heres a list of some of my absolute favorite pony bloggers:

🎨 MLP Art Blogs

@cassettepony - Such a unique art style. Cannot stress enough how unique her art style is! It's very stylistic and the colors are POPPIN- they're so saturated and pretty! Her art reminds me of jolly ranchers,, I also absolutely love the exaggerated expressions and how she draws EYES (when the corner of the mouth slightly clips over the bottom of the eye.........immaculate) + She does something really special that I never see any other pony artists doing, which is giving the ponies little chin hairs or 5 o'clock shadows (I. i don't know what it's called please forgive me). It is so special and cool to see, and it's so recognizable! I ADORE Cassettes art and I've always been too shy to say hi so uhhh. Hi! 👋

@msponies - ponies drawn in mspaint. HIGH QUALITY posts here. I am so inspired by their use of colors- the RANGE in some of these posts is crazy. Some of these drawings have such extremely unique color combos that you wouldn't think would work so well together, but msponies is just a master at using a color palette to its full potential its actually crazy! Their Trixie drawings are some of the best, and I cant help but admire how bold their backgrounds are (yea I know that kinda goes hand in hand with the whole color palette thing but i just really like their art); the bold colors and the dark outlines are so scrumptious

@celebrationcastle - They don't update extremely often, but when they do, you kno its gonna be a top tier post. They have a very flexible artstyle, and they post fanart for every generation. They were the ones who made that Valentines Pinkie Pie design that popped off a while ago, and for good reason; they are extremely good at drawing and designing. Like, they've completely mastered the artstyle of g3 and g4 (and probably every other gen. its nuts), and their g5 fanarts art probably my favorite I've ever seen (sunny starscout, my beloved). Everything they post is a banger. Their blog is just such a big inspiration to me :,)

📖 General MLP Blogs

@yodawgiheardyoulikeponies - absolute FAVORITE pony collecting blog. OP is SO sweet and her collection is AMAZING! I absolutely adore her photos and her posts, and her enthusiasm about collecting is so infectious. The positive energy on her blog is absolutely pure sugar, and I just really cannot stress enough how much effort she puts into her posts. She makes little pony photo shoots! And makes little stories out of them!!! It's so fun to just sit and read through. I always check her blog after new merch is released just because it's it's interesting to read about a Pony Veteran giving their input on modern toys. 1000/10 I love this blog

@ahorseofeverycolor - I only have notifications on for like. 5 or 6 blogs? And this is definitely one of them. They regularly post about ponies and horses (okay, they mostly focus on Breyers, but thats not a negative to me at all- I got my first Breyer the other day BECAUSE of this blog, lol), and their blog is just so clean and organized! They post about so many different kinds of ponies, whether it be comparing flat-footed release to concave foot releases, or custom ponies they made themselves, or just really cool pony finds that aren't necessarily obtainable (prototypes, special custom ponies commissioned by hasbro by professional artists, etc) but are really cool to look at!!! I really like this blog!!!

@mustcollecthorses - This is a blog that I have a super bad habit of opening and then scrolling through for like. 2 hours straight, lol. It's a mix of reblogs and original posts, so it's really my Ideal pony blog; usually when I hear about pony news, it's because he reblogged it! It's a very focused blog, so it's definitely a good one to follow if you need some more horses on your dash! He recently made an edit of Hitch from the new 5 pack to give him brushable hair, which I absolutely love (why did they gotta give him sculpted hair umu) I also like that OP leaves tags on the posts he reblogs! I don't know if it's just me, but I always like a blog more if they add tags with input about the toys and news and things like that. It adds some personality and a Vibe to the blog and I just really like it!!!

ok thats all! i of course follow a bunch of other pony themed blogs, but those are some of my top favorites, and ill limit it to 3 per category for the sake of simplicity. please consider following them! They're all so cool and talented!!!

--

send me pony themed asks

[thesquidkid]

Lately I've been feeling so alone

Based of this post by @milady-bugg, thank you for letting me use it as inspiration for a fic 😁

This is sadder than intended, and full of Michael Guerin feels, hope you'll enjoy! This is also quite long (5.4k lmao), so you can read it on AO3 if you prefer.

Michael had isolated himself in his bunker, not letting anyone - even Sanders - in. At first, there were a few knocks, the door opening a few times and each time, Michael would slam it shut with his powers. He needed to process. It was one thing, to know that you were the son of a monster, another to face the man as he gave his own son a heart attack. Father of the year, right here!

So Michael had isolated himself between 4 walls, literally underground, where he could let all his anger free without hurting anyone. But the others couldn’t really understand that, and he couldn’t blame them. So everyone went on to live their lives, do what they were good at.

Isobel and Rosa were looking for Max, searching every cave, every abandoned house, turning every stone, using Rosa’s new found ability. Liz was making sure Maria stayed stable and healthy, her state hadn’t really decreased, but it hadn’t improved either. Whatever was going on, she seemed to continue the fight. Because Maria DeLuca was her own saviour, every damn time.

Michael didn’t have any news of Alex, just that he had found Kyle and that he was safe. He had hesitated calling Alex a few times, to compare notes on shitty father, but that wouldn’t have been fair to Alex, the person who tried every damn day to distance himself from his father, to fix what he broke, to be a better man.

So Michael was alone, in his bunker, with Sanders coming in every once in a while to complain that Michael wasn’t working, but both knew it was just an excuse to check up on him, make sure he was doing fine.

And really, he was. After the initial shock of finding out that his father was a copy of his brother (really, all those times Max had played his father, it was just in his DNA), where he completely and utterly lost it, he was now in a much calmer headspace. He had repositioned all the furniture that had been thrown against the walls, had done some extensive cleaning and given back a few tools and random parts he found to Sanders.

Although, he was still feeling empty. Had emptied his entire body, crying, shouting, wanting to break stuff with his powers, but knowing that if he did he would have to replace it somehow. And he was still broke. So he had to figure out another way of letting his emotions free, that didn’t involve breaking the little stuff he owned, and regretting it.

Instead, he focused on what he was good at. Had put all of the alien tech he had on the main workspace, fiddling with it at first, letting his hand move freely on it, feeling the way the tech reacted to him. From then, he realised that he still didn’t completely know what the tech could do, had assumed it was only part of the ship, but the recent events, with Kyle’s radio and Jones’ sword, he was getting curious as to what he could do, with his imagination and mechanical skills.

This is where it all started, with the alien glass and his tools, letting his hands move as they desired, his mind still busy thinking about - well, everything that happened in the last few days, from Jones being his father, to Max maybe still nearly dying, to Maria being in a coma, and to Alex being God knows where doing God knows what.

As he thought about his friends, his family, his people, his fingers were doing something similar. This is how he found himself, after three days in the bunker, barely sleeping, not at all in contact with the outside world - only going out to take a shower, get some food, and use the toilet in the airstream - with a bunch of glass objects, clearly designed for his friends, and not knowing what to do with all of it. Well, he knew, but that meant going out and seeing them, their faces, probably full of pity, no one knowing how to address the elephant in the room - Jones.

He was building up the courage to get out and gift his creations as peace offering, or whatever they wanted them to be, when he was disturbed by a knock on the latch, then it opened, followed by a very familiar voice that he didn’t expect to hear any time soon.

“Look, Guerin, I get that you want to be alone right now, and uh, yeah -” Alex Manes said, passing a hand across the face, fighting the want to jump down that ladder, understanding more than anyone what being the son of a monster felt like, and even then, neither of their experiences were comparable. “I’m just here to tell you that, ah, Maria woke up, and uh, she’ll be staying in the hospital for a little longer, so uh, yeah that’s what I came here to say.” he finished, and stood up from where he was crouching above the opened latch, looking down in the bunker but not seeing more than the ladder and light. He could also slightly distinguish Michael’s shadow, glowing under all the lights he guessed were alien.

Michael thought Alex had left, and nearly closed the latch using his powers, when he heard the last few words, barely a whisper, but clear as day to him. And he knew that Alex knew that he heard them. “I’m here. If you ever want to talk, or whatever. I’m here for you, Michael.” And with that, Alex left, understanding the peace of being alone with your thoughts, and knowing that Michael would come out whenever he was ready to.

And he was ready to come out. Soon after he heard Alex’s car leave the junkyard, he rushed to his airstream to take a shower and change clothes, taking with him the glass object he had made for Maria. When Sanders saw him leave the airstream, showered, dressed in clothes that hadn’t been worn the past three days, smiling, he couldn’t stop the teasing comment, “If I knew getting your boy here would get you out, I’d have done it long ago.” Despite the comment, he was glad that Michael was feeling better, and even more glad to hear the “Not my boy. Maria’s awake,” that came from Michael as he drove away, leaving Sanders in the junkyard, a smile on his face. The kid was starting to realise that family wasn’t the blood coursing through your veins, but the people you choose to surround yourself with. He hoped Ms. Nora would be proud of her boy, wherever she was.

Michael drove to the hospital at a respectable speed, not wanting to get arrested the day Maria woke up - she would never stop making fun of him about it. He nearly ran towards her room, stopping only at the open door, taking in the people in the room. Liz was at the foot of Maria’s bed, holding a board with papers clipped to it - most likely Maria’s health results - talking with her hands, a large smile on her face. Rosa was sitting on the bed, next to Liz, exchanging side smiles with Maria, her entire body more relaxed than she had been since Maria’s coma. Isobel was standing to the side of the room, leaning against the wall, facing the door. She was the first to see Michael, making him smile back, and promising her to talk and hang out, by their psychic bond. Finally, he turned his eyes to the head of Maria’s bed, where the two Manes men who had gone against their father were sitting, Greg leaning against the back of the chair, a hand holding Maria’s and the other going up and down on her arm in a reassuring sign, Alex on the other side sitting with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on one hand, apparently the only one truly listening to what Liz had to say.

He cleared his throat, not knowing how else to announce his presence. “Mikey!” came the synchronised shout from the Orthecho sisters, “what took you so long, dude? We texted you ages ago!” Rosa teasingly asked, Michael not bothering with an answer and simply sticking his tongue out to her, earning him a roll of the eyes from Liz and Isobel, a full on laugh from Rosa and a slight chuckle from Alex.

“How you feeling, DeLuca?” he started to ask, his voice clear with worry, but remembering many of their conversations, he continued with something he knew she would prefer to him worrying too much, “I might check out some other bar if you stay out of the game for too long.”

And he seemed to have been right, as Maria giggled and stood up straighter, “Oh I’m not too worried you’ll be right back at the Pony in no time Guerin,” she said smiling at him, which Michael copied. “And,” she added, pointing her finger in his direction, “you still owe me 15,09 bucks, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Michael shook his head, of course she wouldn’t forget the drinks he had during the last year that he hasn’t yet repaid in services. Since it was the pandemic, they both didn’t have much money so they agreed that whatever drinks he ordered would be paid back in free car or bar maintenance, and vice versa. As if they weren’t already cutting deals for each other.

Feeling all eyes on him, especially since he had gone AWOL for the last three days, Michael cleared his throat once more and took a few hesitant steps towards Maria, ignoring everyone in the room but her. “I, uh, made you something?” he said, cursing himself mentally for making it sound like a question, “here,” he put his hand in his jacket pocket and took out four little alien glass hairpins, ‘it’s alien glass, I thought you might like them.”

He looked at her to see some tears in her eyes as she took the hairpins and observed them in her hands. “They’re, Michael, those are amazing ,” she said with so much sincerity that Michael was taken aback by it, “Thank you.” she added with a smile.

In the end Michael sat on the floor against the wall, listening closely to Maria talking about what had happened with Jones. He felt at ease, surrounded by his friends, still feeling the weight of Kyle and Max missing, but everyone enjoying this small light in what had felt like a week of pure darkness.

Being with Maria, giving them his creation, had given him the courage to talk to the others, and hand them their gifts. He went to see Liz, one day, as she was still in Kyle’s office, observing scans of Maria’s brain. He pointedly ignored those pictures, deciding that he wasn’t going to think of what his father could have done to Maria and her brain, knowing the guilt he would feel if he did. Instead he stood in front of Liz and handed her two teardrop earrings made out of alien glass.

She stopped in the middle of her sentence, and stared up at Michael who smiled awkwardly, her mouth agape as she took in the beauty of the jewelry. “Mikey, wow, I - I don’t know what to say.” she said, looking back and forth between the earrings and Michael.

“It’s nothing, Ortecho, really, I had glass laying around and -” he started to say but was interrupted by Liz. “Thank you.” she nearly shouted, standing up and bending him in a tight embrace, which he returned gladly. He then held up Liz’s phone as a mirror as she put them on and admired herself, making both of them laugh, before reality caught up, and they both needed to focus on Max, Kyle, and Maria. Liz kept the earrings the entire day, and wears them on any occasion she can, the alien colorful glass going with a multitude of clothing combinaisons.

The next person Michael gave a present to was Rosa. She was at the junkyard to train her powers when he surprised her with alien windchimes. He quickly used his powers to hang them up while she had her eyes closed and let the wind do the rest of the work. She opened her eyes in admiration of whatever sound she had heard and turned towards the source of it. “Woa,” she said under her breath as she walked slowly towards them, until finally touching them with her hands, letting the windchimes sing under her fingers, the alien glass slightly reacting.

“You made those?” she asked, turning around to Michael. He nodded, smiling, feeling quite proud of his work. “The sound they make,” continued Rosa, turning once again to look at the windchimes, Michael walking closer to her, “it’s - I don’t think I can compare it to anything.” He nodded once more, encouraging Rosa to continue, “It’s like a melody. I can hear the wind, but it’s different, it’s beautiful.”

She leaned against Michael who was now standing slightly behind her, Michael instinctively putting her arm around her shoulders, the two of them standing in the middle of the junkyard, admiring the alien glass windchimes Michael had made for Rosa. She would come buy the junkyard many times, listening at the way the wind circled through the windchimes, admiring their beauty.

After that it all happened really quickly; Rosa and Isobel found Max, Michael and Liz had been called to the rescue (Jones had apparently regained his body and vanished), followed by Kyle waking up, Greg and Maria rushing to some ranch in the middle of nowhere to get Kyle and Alex. Eventually, all this craziness died down for a bit, Max was hiding in Alex’s cabin in the woods, since Jones had used his body to commit crimes, he couldn’t really go grocery shopping without getting arrested, and Kyle had regained his job at the hospital. Michael seriously wondered how he hadn’t been fired yet, but he wasn’t complaining, at least someone in their group seemed to know what he was doing with his life.

He made his way back to the hospital, except this time to see the one person he swore he would never visit as a kid. A doctor. But not just any doctor, a doctor who was quickly becoming a good friend of his, which he obviously wasn’t going to admit. He walked in the corridors, knowing the place quite well by now, and knocked on Kyle’s office door. A tired “Come in” answered and he opened the door.

As soon as Kyle saw who was on the other side of the door, he groaned and nearly snapped, thinking that maybe now would be the time to get a new group of friends that didn’t have alien emergencies every four hours. Michael must’ve sensed what Kyle was about to say (something along the lines “I don’t care that the world is burning because of some alien invasion, I need sleep! And no, a coma doesn’t count.”) because he raised his hands in surrender, a smug smile on his face.

“Relax, no alien life or death situations, or at least not that I know of.” This had the expected effect, Kyle relaxed in his chair, crossed his arms on his chest and raised an eyebrow at Michael, silently asking him why he was here then. Michael closed the door behind him and sat opposite Kyle, on one of the patients chairs. Still smiling, he took out of his pocket two glass paperweights that he delicately put on the desk for Kyle to grab, just as delicately.

Kyle was silent as he turned the paperweights between his hands, admiring all the different angles, reflecting his desk light on the walls and papers he had on his desk. While Kyle was busy, Michael slowly put his hand in his other jacket pocket and took out a glass snow globe with a little cardboard UFO, two little plastic aliens, and pink fake snow. He put it on the desk and waited for Kyle to notice, after having put the paper weights on top of two small piles he had.

When he saw the snow globe, his face lit up with astonishment, and he looked up to Micheal, once again speechless. “I know what it’s like to see a doctor as a kid and being scared,” Michael said, not looking at Kyle but at the little snowball, “and I know it’s not the same, but uh-”

“I’m sure the kids will love it, Michael.” Kyle said, honestly. He took the globe and shook it, chuckling at the way the UFO dangled, the way the little Aliens wiggled and the way the pink snow fell on everything. “Thank you.”

Michael shrugged, “Consider it payback,” he said, with a sincere smile this time, “for all the times you saved our asses.” And with that, he stood up, waved awkwardly at Kyle (who waved back just as awkwardly) and left.

Kyle took care of the paperweights, who in reality weren’t so heavy, but never broke as they fell. All the kids that came by his office would stare at the little snow globe, admiring it, feeling calmer and safer during their appointment.

Isobel called Michael over the next day. She said she wanted to go shopping for Max, since he was stuck away and was getting bored (how he had already read all the books Alex gave him, was a mystery to Michael, but he supposed when there really wasn’t anything else to do…)

Michael ran on her doorbell and let himself in, using his powers to unlock the door. He made his way to the living room and sat on the couch, looking at the decorations of Isobel’s walls. This house felt more homey than the one she had shared with Noah, there were paintings on the walls he knew Rosa had made, a few old and useless metallic pieces he had turned into sculptures and decorations laying around in various places. But what was really different was the huge bookshelf, books varying from science fiction (for Michael), to inspiring novels (for Isobel) to fantasy and romantic (for Max), indicating that this wasn’t just her home for her, but that her brothers were welcomed here too.

Michael put on the table the necklace he had made, the pendant made out of alien glass and the chain from some silver he had laying around the junkyard, and waited for Isobel to come out. When she did, she smiled at Michael and sat next on his left, facing him. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking, and our brother isn’t really the best cook so -”, she started to say, but cut herself as she saw what was on the table.

She grabbed the necklace between her fingers, and looked to Michael, who was leaning against the couch, an arm slung over it, a bright smile on his face. He winked at her, when he saw that Isobel was looking at him, and she leaned against him, her heard on his shoulder, Michael folding his arm around her.

“It’s beautiful, Michael,” Isobel said, emotions strong in her voice, “thank you.” Mihael rubbed his hand on her shoulder, not really knowing what to say, but wanting her to know that he would always be there.

Isobel wiggled the necklace in front of his face, Michael taking it with a chuckle as he attached it around her neck. The two of them stayed like that, leaning their heads against each other, in silence, in peace. Eventually, Isobel stood up, hurrying Michael out the door and into his truck to go shopping for Michael. And if they were a bit later than what they had told Max, arriving with humid eyes, no one made a comment about it, Max glad to have some company and more books to read.

Michael went back to see Max at least once a day, staying for a few hours or a couple of minutes, always checking in. The two had a lot to talk about, especially the elephant in the room - Max being a clone of Michael’s father.

Michael found himself enjoying those little brotherly moments, and more so the one after they had done the whole Jones subject. Michael would make a few comments about Liz staying in Roswell, to which Max would respond with questions about Alex.

“You know,” said Max on the third day Michael came when they were sitting around a fire pit, enjoying a few beers, after Michael had strongly avoided any topic about Alex, while also admitting to having some feelings (which Max knew of already, subtility wasn’t Michael’s - and Alex’s - strong suit), “this is the first time you and I have talked about dumb highschool crushed together.”

Michael chuckled at that, a hint of sadness that Max quickly brushed, “Hey no, the past is the past man, I’m just saying that I’m glad we’re finally talking, you know? Feels like we’re finally not hiding stuff.” And Michael raised his beer bottle at that. It was indeed the first time that they were both completely open, no more secret. They both were at fault on that, but as Max had said, the past was the past, no point reminiscing, when you could focus on making the future better.

With those thoughts in mind, he took out of his pocket an alien glass bolo tie with little turquoise end caps on the ties, and handed it to Max, who took it. They were both hypnotised by the way the flames reflected on the glass, the way the colors seemed to dance in the night.

Max didn’t say anything, didn’t have too. He put his beer on the floor next to him, stood up and motioned to Michael to do the same. Once they were both standing, facing each other, they hugged deeply, strongly. In the end, all the other bolo ties Max owned got mostly replaced by this one, being worn at every occasion he could, always with his brother in mind.

Michael had two more presents to offer, and was sitting in his bunker, not knowing how to approach either of the people they were made for. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to figure one out, as the person in question opened the latch and climbed down the stairs with a grunt. “Kid,” came Sander’s voice as soon as his feet reached the ground, “think you can use that brain of yours to build a lift here? Getting too old for this.”

“Well no one is forcing you to come, old man,” Michael replied, although there was no true bite to it. In fact, he quite enjoyed the old man’s occasional visits, even if all he did was complain. Michael turned around to face him, “Everything all good up there?” he asked, wondering why Sanders had come down. Sanders just nodded at him and took the last steps for him to arrive at Michael’s level, leaning his hands on the workspace. “What you working on, kid?”

“Uhm, actually -” started Michael, now that Sanders was here, might as well give him the present, right? “I got something for you.”

Using his powers, he approached a little metallic sunflower he had made from scrap pieces found here and there in the junkyard, and had made the center out of alien glass. The whole thing was attached to a chain to be held up against the door to Sanders house.

Sanders grabbed the sunflower and looked at it intensely with his good eye, remembering the colors Ms Nora’s creations were, seeing them once again on that little sunflower. Neither said anything, nor made a step forward to hug, neither being used to physical comfort, but they both knew how much that gesture meant.

To Michael, it meant acceptance, family, a sunflower for all the sunflowers they grew at the junkyard over the pandemic. To Sanders, it meant pride, it meant having kept his promise to Ms Nora to take care of his son, it meant family.

The sunflower was attached by Sanders' door, the alien glass glowing under the desert sun, always turning to face it, like all the many sunflowers they had in their field.

Which led Michael to one last gift. And if he was being honest with himself, the one he dreaded the most. Also the one that took him the most time and the most research. A gift for Alex. Taking his courage in both hands, he sent a quick text to Alex before he could have any chance to doubt himself. Free right now? I think I might take you up on your offer.

He didn’t have long to wait, as his phone buzzed almost immediately, On my way. Be there in 30 . He rushed back to his airstream, ignoring once more Sanders’ comment about getting ready for his boy , to get changed and put beers in the fridge. He opened the door of the airstream just as he heard Alex’s car arrive, and sat on one of the chairs, two bears in hand, while he made his way over. Alex sat on a chair next to him, accepting the beer, in silence.

“I heard you were busy while in your underground lair, judging by the gifts I’ve been seeing pop up.” Alex said with a smile, taking a sip of his beer, turning his head to look at Michael.

Michael frowned his eyebrows, “I thought you were busy out of town?” he asked, barely stopping the bite from escaping his lips. Alex looked sheepishly away from Michael at that, “I’ve been trying to not distance myself too much,” she shrugged, his tone lowering, until being a simple whisper at the end, “to not drive myself crazy.” He shivered at whatever thought was going through his mind, then straightened his body and looked up to Michael, “Anyway, you said you’d take me up on my offer, I’m assuming you want to talk?” he asked, forcing a smile that Michael didn’t buy.

“The hell is going on with you, Alex?” Michael asked, with a bit too much force that he immediately took back at Alex’s defeated look, “First you tell me you’d burn down the world for me, then that you don’t want me anywhere you or whatever, and then you end up finding Kyle in some creepy farm, which might I add is the exact same farm you got stabbed in .” He took a breath, and continued, “So yeah, Alex, I want to talk, I want you to tell me what’s going on with you.” He stopped at looked at Alex, who didn’t really seem like he wanted to say anything, so he lowered his voice, taking back all the bite and anger he could, channeling how much he cared and worried about Alex, “You said you were there for me, it’s a two way street you know. I’m here for you too.”

That seemed to do the trick, as Alex’s teary eyes met Michael’s, who wanted nothing more that to wipe his thumb across his cheeks, to take away the fear and the pain he could see in those eyes. But he didn’t, they weren't there yet.

Alex took a deep, shaky breath and told Michael everything, from quitting the Air Force (getting a discharge with full honors, Michael could tell the pride in his voice as the last ten years of Alex’s hadn’t been totally useless), to joining Deep Sky, to the Lockhart machine, to his boss not being who he said he was, to discovering that the Lockhart machine had driven people crazy, to the reason he had been recruited by deep sky. After his explanations, he fell quiet, looking at Michael, not truly knowing what to expect.

What he didn’t expect however, was for Michael to get up hastily, move the airstream and rush to his lair, leaving Alex sitting on his chair, a half empty bottle of beer in one hand, tears in his eyes. But Michael came back, just as fast as he had left, holding some piece of alien tech mixed with metal in his hands. It took a moment for Alex to register what that object was, and once he did, he widened his already teary eyes in surprise, his mouth was slightly agape, his eyebrows were frowned, as he searched for the words to express his confusion, not wanting to get his hopes high. On the other hand, there wasn’t a multitude of people Michael could’ve made an alien prosthetic leg for.

Michael approached slowly with the leg in his hands, handing it to Alex once he was close enough. “I uh- I made you this.” he said, clearing his throat, while Alex was examining the leg, “It’ uh, lighter than the one you have now, but it’s also more resistant and, well, you could really bludgeon someone with it, if uh - if you wanted to.”

Alex kept looking at the leg, not saying anything, which Michael interpreted as him not being interested. “You don’t have to take it, if you don’t like it. I also made you this,” he rushed out, taking a braided leather cuff with a piece of alien glass as a stamp and handing it sheepishly to Alex, who was looking at him, with the same teary look he had for the past few minutes. Michael took a deep breath and sat back down, “Look,” he breathed out, “what I’m trying to say, Alex, is I’ve got your back, okay? I’ll build you whatever you need, I’ll go wherever you want me to, I’ll - I care about you.”

As Alex opened his mouth to say something, Michael raised his hand to interrupt, and continued, “And I’m the son of a literal dictator whose powers I’ve inherited. I can defend myself. And I know that you wanna protect me - I do too - but maybe we could, I don’t know, protect each other by being there?”

Alex, whose tears were now running free on his face, bent down to take his right shoe off, under Michael’s curious gaze, who could also feel tears running down his cheeks. Alex raised his trousers and took off his prosthetic, before grabbing the alien one and putting it on. He knew the size would fit, knew that Michael had worked hard on it, had probably had the idea of making him a new leg from the moment they met again, in front of that same airstream, under completely different circumstances.

They had gone a long way from that day, and they still had some more to do, but Michael was right. Maybe this time, they could be there, together, to take that new road, to protect and take care of each other, together. Before standing up, Alex attached the bracelet Michael had made around his left wrist, admiring the colors of the alien glass under the desert sun.

Alex stayed at the junkyard for some more time, until his alarm rang, informing him that he should head back to the Lockhart machine. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Michael, asking him if he wanted to come with, and together they drove to the farm, down a road they had both taken together once, but this time Alex wasn’t bleeding out.

After that day, Alex still went to the VA in Albuquerque for meds prescriptions and physical therapy once in a while, but all the repairs that needed to be done for his prosthetic, all the improvements, were done by Michael, in his lair, under Alex’s curious gaze, who wanted to know everything about Michael’s ideas.

After all his gifts, Michael found that he still had some alien glass laying around in his bunker. So he decided to turn it all into little rings, wanting to distinguish as much as he could from the weaponizing of the alien glass, like Jones had. Eventually, all of little friend group, all of his people, owned a ring.

And when the day came, when the fight with Jones reached its last stretch, Michael was ready. He didn’t have an alien sword like Jones had, but he had something much more. A group of people, by his side, all sharing his strength through the little alien gifts. His people, his family.

Lately I've been feeling so alone Can someone give the antidote to me so I can Finally understand where I belong