#i had this thing in my rule page that i got rid of in the links

[plush-rabbit]

The Spot Headcanons

Request: I have no idea if you take requests or anything but like ... spot with an s/o who chews on him. Nothing nsfw or suggestive or anything. I think they'd just wanna chew on him like . Some kind of stick. (Btw i 💞💞💞 ur writing so BADDDDD)

A/N: I did a quick glance and I thought you were calling my writing bad and im like, then why are you hereಥ_ಥ (there’s a quick mention about sex, but its not like graphic)

-

In all his time that he’s known you, he’s always known that you had some oral fixation. There were times that you tried to hide it from Johnathan, but it was never successful. You’d chew on popsicle sticks until they were splintered and frayed, you bite on toothpicks until you’d spit out the thin lines of wood, and only once you grew comfortable around him, you’d bite on your knuckles. If he were to be honest, he was worried you’d break your skin, so he started to carry bandages in his pocket.

However, you never broke skin. You’d chew lightly, your teeth marks dented into your skin, over your knuckles and on the webbed part of your hand, chewed on the side of your finger. Further into the relationship, you start to chew without trying to hide it from him. He’d watch as you bite on a popsicle stick, bitten between your molars and grinded until it pared in the middle, and you’d hold his hand. You’d massage it, your jaw tight as you press into his palm and squeeze onto his fingers. With wood acting as a poor replacement for flesh, you’d satisfy your desire by holding his hand.

Splinters are on your tongue and drool lays a pool into your mouth as you focus on his hands and wrists, running the pad of your index finger over his veins, pinching over the flesh of his knuckles and the meaty part of his palm. It’s obvious to anyone watching that you want to bite him, but are too afraid to ask. He has his own quirks that you’ve satisfied without complaint, and he’s sure that he’s made it clear that you can ask him anything, and yet, you don’t. Your tongue is splintered, and his hand is massaged, and he lays on your chest. A part of him wonders if his flesh is not to your desire, if his fingers are too calloused for your liking. He can only hold his breath when you kiss his palm. Your breath is warm, and your lips are soft, you hold him gently, running your lips from the center, up towards a finger, and he hopes that you bite him, that you mark him and dent his skin with your canines.

Of course, he has tried to get you sensory toys due to not wanting you to get splinters on your tongue, they never worked the same. The toys would work for a while, and it was apparent that you tried to enjoy them, grinding your teeth into them, and trying to tear it apart, but he could tell that you’d only grow frustrated. As you would chew and chew,  by the end of it, spit had coated the toy and dripped onto your hand. It wasn’t the most sanitary, especially when you made it a point to try to tear apart the toy, and it would lay wrapped clean in a napkin until the next use. It was fairly common that you would end up losing them, and by the time you found them, no amount of soap and water had deemed the toys clean. 

The only time that you’d actually bruise his skin is when the two of you are intimate. You’d bite his shoulder, sink your teeth in and pull him closer when he hisses at the contact. He had no idea someone could bite so gentle and harsh at the same time. You lap at the wound, kissing it, pressing your lips softly as if to ease the sting. And again, you bite, scratching at his back, knitting your hands into his hair, and breathing heavily. When he stares at himself in the mirror, he lets his hands linger when your teeth have tattooed themselves. His fingertips ghost over the inflamed skin, and he swears that he can feel the dentations, and the skin burns, and he can’t stop tracing where you’ve kissed him.

If you won’t bite him unless there’s intimacy involved, then he’ll make it known that it’s okay to chew on him. He’d cover your mouth with his hand, his index over your mouth, and the rest of his hand cradling your chin. He’d feel your heated breaths pant over his index, and he’d stare into your eyes, the void of the black hole that is him staring into your shining eyes reflecting his image. Neither of you dare to break eye contact for a moment- he wants to see if you’d actually bite him. You’re the one to break eye contact, your eyes darting down to his finger, and back to him and he nods, unable to breathe as he can feel the skin of your teeth drag over the side of his finger and feel the thin of it bite down. His breath catches in his throat, and his spots widen and contract as the feeling of your teeth squeezing down.

You smile with your teeth bared, and he realizes just how much he wants you to bite him. He wants you to etch yourself onto his skin, to know that you find him worthy of being torn and mawed by you. You comment on the different texture that he has compared to you. How he feels different, and when insecurity makes him anxious, you ask if it’s really okay for you to bite him. And when he tells you yes, you hold onto his arm, your breath soft and fanning over him as you bite and bite, pressing a kiss over each mark.

If he’s not in close proximity towards you- which is rare- he will use a spot to put his hand through, letting you bite onto him. It’s almost frightening how addicted he became to you biting him, how he likes the feeling of your maw threatening to tear and rip his flesh. In the soft kisses that follow, where you flutter your lips over his hand and arm, and over his neck and shoulder, you tell him thank you, and your hands have gone untouched, splinters no longer poke your tongue.

In return for letting you bite him, he likes to rest his head on your chest and feel you scratch his back. He’ll always tell you that there’s no need to repay him- he enjoys your biting habits as much as you do- but he can’t complain when he’s allowed to just rest on you. He’ll put his full weight on you, and stretch over you, humming when your nails pull down on his back, and nearly asleep by the time your hand has cramped. He’ll nuzzle further into your chest when you scratch at the top of his head, letting out a noise of content.

 What will and his spots and the chewing that you allow, you’ve started to try different nicknames. Johnathan and any variations of it were always welcomed and when you called him Spot, you always said it so lovingly that it never struck the kind of intimidation that he was going for. At one point, you tried calling him “Swiss”- “like swiss cheese, ‘cause you’re so holey and chewy,” you joked. He still doesn't know how he feels about the nickname, but the more you called him that despite the obvious grumbling, the more he became almost fond of it. He isn’t sure how much he likes being compared to a piece of food, but you always smile at the name, and he can’t ruin your smile. 

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 9

masterpost

Having a mission changed everything. 

Tim took full advantage of his new knowledge of the holy manuals. The first rule that he took to heart was that he was meant to be armed. Of course! It made sense.

Unfortunately, he was also not meant to take any weapon onto the field that he hadn’t trained with. Tim thought hard for a while whether or not a suburban house counted as ‘in the field’, but it seemed like he should pay lip service to Batman’s rule. So he got some sharp things that seemed interesting and spent some time throwing them at a target. They kind of looked like Batarangs, but… different. 

“I don’t think bats change shape in the next ten years or so,” Tim muttered. He gave another half hearted throw. The thing dinged off the wall below his target. “So this isn’t meant to be a bat shape. Did Batman rebrand to the Birdman and no one fixed his wiki page yet? Is this a parallel universe and not my actual future?”

It occurred to him that it might be a bird because of Robin. But come on, Robins didn’t use sharp things. Robin was a child. It was irresponsible for children to use blades. 

Tim sent another thingy into the wall. It hit with the pointy end first this time and sank an inch into the wall to the right of the target. He held his breath as it wiggled for a moment. Then it went still without falling.

“Yes!” He punched the air. Thank gosh! He was getting bored with that. It was good to be done with training. It was kind of dull.

Steps one and two were finished. He had a weapon and he had trained with it. Tim went back to his list. The next technical skill set was lock picking. That was super easy and fun! Tim enjoyed the clear diagrams and explanations. There wasn’t anything to practice with, but he thought that he had the concept down handily. He grabbed a set of lockpicks for his khaki pockets. 

He needed to do a little more to understand the patterns of the target, as well as their background. Tim considered asking Jason for any information, but he probably didn’t have any. Maybe he wasn’t very good at googling. So he just did it. The Sausage Guy was more commonly known as Benedict Orange, a name that Tim really liked and mentally stored away to use as an alias when he was a superhero. 

Anyway. Tim figured out how old the guy was, where he’d gone to school, and a bunch of other stuff like the record of his marriage ten years ago. 

“Huh,” Tim said, brows furrowed. “I didn’t find a divorce record. But he’s single now?” Mr. Orange had accounts on a lot of dating sites. He was using his engagement photo for the profile photo, with his wife cut out.

That was weird. He tried to find the wife, but there wasn’t anything more recent than 8 years ago, when she’d announced that she was quitting her job on social media. 

…Tim had kind of a bad feeling about that. 

He put a pin in it for now, but he had a small theory at the back of his mind that started with ‘I think this guy killed his wife.’

Maybe that was how the human sausage thing started. Maybe he’d killed her on impulse and then needed a way to get rid of the body. And then maybe he’d gotten a taste for it.

Tim shuddered. Okay, okay, he was for real done thinking about this! Big yucky.

Benny Orange was an office worker with a title that Tim didn’t really understand. It seemed vague to the point of uselessness, but then again, that was office work. The relevant thing was that he got home around 6 pm, and he left at 8 am.

It was 10 in the morning. Tim could get over there and toss Benny’s home before the end of the workweek if he hurried. The manual said that you should never spend more than an hour investigating an unsecured location. It also said that you should file a report or directly inform someone of where you’d be. 

That part made Tim pause for a moment before he remembered that he’d told Jason. Jason would probably check on him when he woke up, or whatever.

Tim found an equipment belt that he could wrap around his waist twice to buckle on. He put his sharp things in it. Then he untucked his shirt, because he had tucked it in out of habit and that would make it harder to access his weapons. He frowned as he did it. It just felt wrong.

He put on his shoes and got out the door. He didn’t have a lot of time to waste if he wanted to be able to take his time, so Tim hailed a taxi to cross most of the distance this time. He was grateful that Mrs. Henderson was gone and there was no chance of seeing her. Last time had been a little bit of a disaster. Needing civilian help to get into the building was not a winning move.

He had bat-approved lockpicks this time. He went to the front door and did his best. 

It turned out that maybe he should have practiced? Tim started to sweat out in the open. It felt like someone was staring at his back. He looked at the houses around. No one was at their windows or walking outside. He started jumping whenever the tall herbs in Mr. Orange's garden swayed in the breeze. He had a lot of plants.

His hands were shaking. The sweat made his shirt stick to his back. He was going to get caught and in so much trouble.

When the door finally opened, Tim offered up a thanks to Bast, because he assumed the cat goddess was more likely to be pro-breaking and entering than other gods. That logic was just based off of what he knew about Catwoman, honestly. 

The first glimpse into Benedict Orange's home was disappointingly normal. He had vinyl flooring (easy to clean!), leather furniture, and a big flat TV high up on the wall. He didn’t have enough knickknacks and there was no art. There was a wood and glass case that was full of identical, unlabeled bottles with something red in it. Hot sauce? Was he a hot sauce guy?

Tim mentally reclassified Mr. Orange further down the list of ‘people I could talk to at a cocktail party.’

The place had the same layout as Mrs. Henderson’s place, just in reverse. Tim beelined to the kitchen because.. Well.

He just did.

The counter space where Mrs. Henderson had a hot water kettle, a big stand mixer, and a toaster was mostly clear here. Mr. Orange only had one piece of cooking machinery. Tim didn’t know it. He squinted at it. It was a big shiny stainless steel thing. It had a metal tray, a wheel, and like… a nozzle. When he climbed on a chair to look down, he could see there was a little tunnel tube thing where you could put stuff inside the body of the machine.

Weird. Moving on!

He checked inside the fridge. He stared for a moment of aghast silence. There was a stack of takeout containers, a bunch of seasonings in the door, and a stack of tupperware with something red in them. 

Cautiously, Tim dug one out and opened it.

“That’s raw meat,” he said, voice high. He put the box back in and then hesitated. Maybe he should be like, taking it? Or taking a sample? To see what animal it came from?

“I’ll think about it.” Tim shut the fridge a little harder than he needed to and beat feet out of the kitchen. He started checking the other rooms. He found the master bedroom. His nose wrinkled. “I don’t think he’s restyled this since Brenda died,” Tim complained. He looked at the curtains with extreme judgment. They were so outdated it wasn’t even funny, but they also weren’t retro yet!

Oh. Wait. Belatedly, Tim remembered that it was ten years into his future. So, maybe they were retro now. Anyways, Brenda had liked the trend for chickens and roosters. There were chickens and roosters everywhere in the decor, including a cute print of what was obviously intended to be a husband and wife pair snuggling on a sofa.

His heart hurt a little. He looked at it a little too long. 

Tim took a deep breath. Then he went back to looking for evidence. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, so clearly Mr. Orange had a personal office elsewhere. There were two more rooms in the apartment.

Tim opened the next door. The room was mostly a guest bedroom, with the notable exception of a huge chest freezer and a weird long wooden bar across the room.

Tim shut the door.

The last room was the office. There was a desk, a file cabinet, and a lockbox full of women’s drivers licenses.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said under his breath. “He’s a serial killer.” He took photos and sent them to Jason immediately with the subject line “Yeah he’s a killer!!!”

Then he got down to sorting through the papers to see if there was anything else. Jason was a Robin, Tim supposed, so he’d need the evidence to show the police. It would be helpful if he just went and sorted it out now. He found warranties for the TV, the new freezer, and he presumed that ‘Meat Grinder’ meant the thing in the kitchen.

“I appreciate that he’s so organized, actually,” Tim muttered. He was hunched over digging through the bottom drawer now.

A key went into a door. 

Tim froze stock still. He slowly, silently shut the drawer. He stared at the closed door to the living room. On the other side of it, Mr. Orange unlocked and opened the front door. Tim slowly looked up, saw 12:14 on the clock, and vaguely registered that sometimes people come home on their lunch breaks.

The front door shut. There was a quiet metal sound that Tim thought was probably the chain lock. The chain lock that was too high for him to move without a chair to stand on.

Okay. Uh. He looked around for a place to hide. The best option was under the desk. Tim crawled through the legs of the chair, heart beating furiously.

He weighed his options. Wait it out and hope Mr. Orange didn’t come in?

…Seemed risky. But there was no way he was going to run out past the guy to the front door. At least, the odds that he’d get grabbed were just not good, not when he didn’t know where Mr. Orange was. 

Alright. Tim knew reality. He might not be able to get out of this on his own. At the very least, he should let Jason know what was going on so that they could add his murder to the list of charges. And maybe Jason was close by to help? Wayne Manor was awfully far away, so probably not. But it didn’t hurt to try.

He got his phone back out and was silently very glad that he had it. Jason had responded to his message. Tim didn’t take the time to read it, instead typing up a blank email with the subject line “um might need help asap :( he here”. He sent it. Then he huddled down to wait.

Noises came from the kitchen- the suction as the fridge opened. The beep of the microwave. A man’s voice saying, “What the fuck? Did I leave this here?”

His blood turned ice cold.

‘What did I do?’ Tim desperately tried to remember what he’d touched in the kitchen. Had he really moved something around? He didn’t remember anything! His heart rate went up like crazy.

The door opened. Tim flinched. His whole body started shaking uncontrollably.

Oh. No. It wasn’t this door yet. It was the door to the next room, the spare bedroom. He heard the weird squelch of the chest freezer opening. Then the closet door squeaked open. Something heavy moved around. 

“Well, it wasn’t you,” said Mr. Orange. There was a mean satisfaction in his tone. The heavy thing moved again.

Tim’s brain went a bit blank.

Who was he talking to? Was there someone in the apartment? Hidden behind something heavy?

He opened up another email. Jason hadn’t responded, so there was no way to know if he’d seen. Tim hastily typed up, “I think there’s a living hostage in the house” and sent it as the door to the office opened.

He hugged his arms around his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh gosh. Oh heck. Oh no, oh no. He bit his lower lip and broke skin.

‘No. I can’t be a baby about this.’ 

It was really hard with how stiff his fingers felt. But Tim put the phone in his pocket and wrestled the sharp bird weapon out. He held it clumsily. And he watched Mr. Orange’s feet move around the room. They walked around the room. He saw the curtains move as Mr. Orange pulled them to check no one was hiding there. Then he knew that Mr. Orange was coming to his hiding spot.

Tim swallowed. He waited until Mr. Orange’s feet were in sight. He stabbed his sharp thing down through the top of Mr. Orange’s sock.

Mr. Orange bellowed and fell back against his filing cabinet. 

Tim scrambled out and ran.

He went towards the front door on automatic and nearly got there before he looked up and saw that yes, the chain lock was on. He couldn’t reach it. 

“You little shit!” Mr. Orange bellowed. He lunged at Tim. Tim barely dodged. He jabbed at him again without looking and barreled towards the door to Mrs. Henderson’s apartment. It only had a doorknob lock. He unlatched it, praying that she had not changed her ideas about the open door policy. The door handle turned.

He threw himself into the room and slammed the door shut. He clicked the little button lock.

Mr. Orange hit the door, hard. It shook. He wasn’t saying anything anymore. There was something about that which struck Tim as absolutely terrifying. Didn’t people bellow and yell when they were mad? 

He looked towards Mrs. Henderson’s door. The door shook again as Mr. Orange hit it.

Wood splintered.

If he went out Mrs. Henderson’s front door he could sprint for it. What were the odds he could outrun a grown man? If he did, wouldn’t Mr. Orange just get in his car? Potential witnesses had made Mr. Orange back off before, but he was more invested now in silencing Tim. And there was no one around. Tim had checked. 

The door splintered again. He could see Mr. Orange’s shoulder. Then a socked foot.

‘I don’t think I stabbed his foot well enough,’ some distant part of Tim’s brain catalogued. ‘He’s still moving on it. If I live past this, I’m going to commit to the next stabbing with more enthusiasm.’

He bolted for the stand where Mrs. Henderson kept her mace. He was just out of sight from Mr. Orange’s hole in the door. His heart thudded so loud. His shaking had stopped. The mace didn’t  feel heavy. 

‘If I was taller, i’d aim for the face. I can’t pull that off. I’ll aim for center mass. He may block with an arm, but theoretically his arm will be hurt enough that I’ll be able to pull back and make another swing.’

There was a catastrophic smash from inside Mr. Orange’s apartment. 

Then a “What the fuck-” that got cut off a little early. Mr. Orange sounded mad and confused. 

A thud. Two smaller thuds. A clicking. Tim wanted so badly to know what was going on. 

A hand reached through the hole in the door and unlatched the lock. 

Tim swallowed. He readied a swing. 

The door opened.

Tim took a step forward and swung Mrs. Henderson’s antique mace with maximum strength directly into the armored center mass of a guy who was NOT Mr. Orange.

“Oh my gosh,” Tim said, horrified, at the instant he connected. The guy was looking forward. He looked down too late, just as the mace hit.

There was sort of a bounce. The mace bounced back off the tummy armor without digging in or drawing blood. Half of Tim was relieved, and half was terrified that his plan had failed. 

The guy doubled over and made a sound that was a lot like GURK. He clutched at his torso with one arm and pointed a gun at Tim with the other.

Tim put his hands up.

The guy looked at Tim. Presumably. It was hard to tell through his ugly red motorcycle helmet.

“I really should have known.” 

His mechanical voice was scary.

Bad guy! 

Tim took his chances and another swing before the guy could shoot him. He expected to hear a shot as he smashed his mace again. The guy yelped and jerked backwards to avoid getting hit. Then there was a thud.

Tim peered through the door cautiously. The guy had tripped over Mr. Orange. Mr. Orange was laying on the floor facedown, arms zip tied behind his back. 

“Oh, sorry,” Tim apologized. He took a couple steps over to put the mace back away. He gave Mr. Orange a wide berth.

“I never would have guessed that the Red Hood used kids like this,” Mr. Orange said meanly. He narrowed his eyes at Tim. “Small, even for bait.”

The Red Hood guy pointed his gun at Mr. Orange’s head. Tim shrieked.

The Red guy stopped. He seemed to look at Tim again. He had some really bad words. “Alright.” He got back up to his feet and put the gun away.

Right. He’d probably just been joking or something. Tim belatedly registered the control it must have taken to not accidentally shoot while being attacked and falling over. 

Oh. Wait. It was a huge coincidence that a hero came right now, unless-

‘Is this Jason?’ Tim felt his eyebrows go all the way up. He wanted to ask a million questions. His mouth was firmly glued shut, though. Partly it was infosec. But it was also embarrassment.

[outshinethestars]

Truth, Justice, and Politics (Tortall fic)

“So, Jon,” George said, appearing in Jon’s office, “About Kel’s convicts.”

“What convicts?”  Jon asked, his mind still more than half on the paperwork in front of him.

“Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan’s merry band of bandits and rogues that helped her save over a hundred children and possibly all of Tortall,” George said.

Jon blinked.  

“What about them?”

“You ought to pardon ‘em.”

Jon put down his pen.

“George,” he said tiredly, “Those men have committed everything from horse thievery to murder, I can’t just pardon them all on a whim.”

George grinned, “It’s nothing you haven’t pardoned before.”

At Jon’s look, George sighed and pulled up a chair so he could sit facing him.

“Look,” George said, “When you gave in to Wyldon about the probationary year-“

“What’s this got to do with pardoning criminals?”

“Just hear me out, Sire,” George said, “When you gave in to Wyldon, what were some of the unexpected consequences?”  George didn’t argue just for the sake of arguing, just to rub salt in the wound, the way Alanna or even Raoul sometimes would, Jon knew there would be a point to this question, so he gave it his due consideration, albeit grudgingly.

Zahir, Jon thought, he’d nearly lost Zahir over Keladry’s probation.

Zahir had fallen in with Joren’s group before Keladry of Mindelan was even a page, and as a good Bazhir he would have disapproved of her regardless.  But when Jon as The Voice had spoken to Zahir about his hazing, about the proper conduct of an honorable knight and man of the tribes, Zahir had asked him, “If you approve so much of Keladry of Mindelan, why did you give her a year of probation?”  Politics, Jon had explained.  “Well,”  Zahir had said, “It is for the sake of politics that I am friends with Joren of Stone Mountain.”  And there had been something ugly and bitter twisting beneath his words.

Zahir had turned right in the end, and Jon was proud to have been his knight master, but if he hadn’t… Jon didn’t want to think what might have happened had the Chamber rejected him.  So many Tortallans would have seen it as a clear sign that the gods disapproved of the Bazhir entering their society, that the Bazhir were inferior, no matter that Tortallan squires sometimes failed the ordeal too.   And it wasn’t just Zahir.

“The Bazhir,” Jon said,  “Many of them weren’t comfortable with it.  Most of them didn’t approve of my pronouncement to begin with, of course, but that was beside the point.  No one brought it up to me directly, but I felt what they were feeling, that that kind of tricky dealing, promising one thing and then adding conditions after the fact, was what they would expect from the King of Tortall, but not the Voice of the Tribes.  It didn’t break anyone’s trust in me, I don’t think, but it— it hurt us, just a little.   I didn’t even think about it in those terms.  I just meant it as a compromise, I have to compromise, all the time, and there’s nothing dishonorable in it I don’t think.  I was betting on Keladry to do as well as any boy, and on Wyldon to be too honorable to get rid of her despite it, and I was right.  But that doesn’t change the fact that it was exactly the same kind of underhanded, looked at from the right angle, as so many of the dealings Tortallan kings have had with the Bazhir.  My grandfather played exactly the same trick with the water rights in Persopolis, and I know why I did it, and I know why it was a wise choice, but I never wanted to be that sort of king, I owe it to the tribes to be better than my forefathers.”

“Exactly,” George said, “And it’s not just the Bazhir.  Common folk have learned to trust your word, that you’re not like other nobles who demand you follow their rules and their whims, all the time claiming they’re holding to their rights and the rule of law, drawing up contracts with fine print commoners can’t read.  That sort of trust is a powerful thing, and one instance of apparent rules-lawyering, of saying one thing and qualifying it later, won’t break it on its own, I imagine, but it does you no favors with ordinary people who don’t get to see the grand scope of your politicking and can’t have it explained to them.  I’m not saying this to claim you chose right or wrong, mind.  It’s not my job to play king of the realm and I’m glad of it.  But I just bring it up to point out you’ve this tendency to focus on the grand sweeping gestures, weighing things up logically like it’s a mathematics problem; x number of laws changed at the cost of y compromises, tryin’ to get your equations to balance in Tortall’s favor.  But you’ve got to remember that there’s more to society and change than just laws, or even who gets to be in the army or positions of power.  Things have a way of trickling upwards too, and individuals can sometimes matter a lot more than you expect.

So, returning to Kel’s convicts.  You’ve some good men there, I don’t know if they were good men or not before Kel got to them, but they are good men now, after following her to almost certain death to save the lives of children.  You’ve men now with considerable bravery and skill who are loyal to Kel, who’s loyal to the realm, which makes them all loyal to you, unless you screw up so badly the Lady Knight decides you’re a tyrant Tortall needs saving from.  I know what the law says, but those men are more use to you free than being worked to death in the quarries.”

“But pardoning them would look just as bad,” Jon said, “I can’t go back on my own laws whenever I choose.”

“I’m not saying to make an announcement of it.  They’re bound by your magic directly.  All you need to do is say the word and their free of it.”

”I can’t pardon them underhandedly.”

George laughed at that.

”Gods forbid you be underhanded Sire,” he said, “But it’s not as though I’m suggesting you do anythin’ dishonest or unjust.  You’ve the right to give pardon when you see just cause, and you do see it, don’t you?

”I do,” Jon confessed.

“Then pardon them.  There’s no law that says you need make a production of it.  But they’ll be free men, then, and you’ll know and they’ll know that you chose to free them.”

“As simple as that?” Jon asked.  But as he said it he realized that it was.  This was a kindness and a justice that he could perform, by opportunity and by right, and politics need not enter into it.

[indieyuugure]

Hi Indie !

First of all, I truly love your version of TMNT. Your dialogues are so good and the designs are great. In terms of writing it kind of reminds me of the Webtoon comic: Batman, Wayne Family Adventures in the way that it’s a brilliant take on a famous franchise.

Also, I kind of had a question and a request.

I noticed a change of style with the color scheme you have now compare to your previous sketches. Like before, Mickey’s stickers were colored and blood was red when those elements are now in black and white. My question is why the change ? Not that it’s a bad choice or it doesn’t fit in you aesthetic, I was just genuinely wondering😁.

As for my request, well I’m French and I really enjoy doing translation either from French to English or from English to French. Therefore I was wondering if you were okay with me doing a French version of your comics ? If you’re not, I totally understand so no worry😁

I can’t wait for the next chapter !!! I wish all the best !

Aw thank you so much! I’m so glad you love the art and the writing! I’ve never read that webcomic, but I’ve heard about it before! I’ll take it as a compliment! ^v^

That is an excellent question! Basically I wanted to reduce the colors on the pages to just the colors of one of the characters items.

I’ve actually been cutting down on color usage since TMS (April’s hair and Casey’s under shirt were colored red and mauve respectively in ROTP but not in TMS) since I felt that it made for some very odd color things, like it felt like too much color be stylistic, but too little to be fully colored? Idk I just didn’t like it, so in TMS every character was allotted two colors: one eye color and one outfit color. That made it a lot simpler and drastically decreased the feeling I had about the colors.

That reason is also why I cut Mikey’s sticker colors. I did think about it, but I decided against it because it felt odd to give Mikey three colors and everyone else one. He’s not the MC, so like, it just seemed like an odd design choice to continue with.

The removal of using red for blood is a bit more complicated. I actually considered making it red in Indie TMNT, but I ended up not because of a few reasons.

1: Red is Raph’s color, it should be used as such (every character only got one color anyway, reusing the color makes it feel less special that it’s there)

2: flushing, whether because of love or illness or embarrassment or whatever, was also being shaded with red because it’s caused by blood, and I just didn’t really like the way it looked? I dunno probably a personal thing? I won’t say why cause I don’t wanna put the thought in your heads, but specifically with Donnie’s face being red from his fever in TMS, I just didn’t like it.

3: I found that the color red makes wounds more graphic. Not sure why? I found with TMS I was having to censor Leo’s wounds more than I anticipated. They were originally so much more disgusting when the red was added that I had to add a lot more black to be comfortable with the drawing. I’m satisfied with my results, I think I struck a good balance, but it did kind get me thinking since I plan to make Indie TMNT just as gory.

Its original purpose for being added was because wounds were key plot points in both ROTP and TMS and I wanted you to pay attention to them and remember them. Now, that’s not to say they’re not important in Indie Tmnt, but I found with the increased violence I was adding (because murder is okay in this comic) it felt unnecessary. Almost every fight scene has splatters of blood that aren’t really that plot related, so it’s not the same as TMS which follows 2012’s no blood or injuries in fights rule until it’s shattered. So in addition to all the other reasons listed, I felt it was fine to get rid of the usage of red for blood and other injuries in this comic.

TLDR: I want each character’s color to be special and they only get one cause I’m lazy and I think it looks cooler. Red blood makes people squeamish but black blood doesn’t 🤷‍♀️ also less important in this comic

As for your request: YES!! I’m totally okay with it, you absolutely may! I would love that! However you decide to do it, just be sure you credit me as the original author of the comic and send me a link when your done so I can post it on the comic masterpost for anyone who wants the translation to read!

Good questions! :]

[nonbinarydeity]

You're not making it happen, you're letting it through

The manifesting process

One of the biggest revelations I've had recently was that your subconscious mind is the thing that manifests, not you. Your subconscious mind is always creating your 4D, and it's always making it perfect for you. If you desire something, it goes into the 4D, and then you have it. All you need to get anything in the 4D is desire it.

"Why don't I have it then?" you might be asking. The process of manifestation is supposed to be:

Desire -> subconscious manifests desire into the 4D -> 3D reflects desire

the only problem that arises in this process are the limits you place on reality. Your subconscious is always following your rules, so instead the process turns into:

Desire -> subconscious manifests desire into the 4D -> 3D reflects desire according to your rules

The only thing you do to consciously manifest is get rid of the limiting rules you've placed on your reality. You can replace them with rules that make manifestations better, easier, and faster for you, but that's up to you. This is why so many people get what they want after they work on their self concept. They got rid of the limited beliefs and set better ones for themselves.

How I see it

If you've read my page recently, you've seen me talking about how "you don't have to do anything but desire to manifest." This is true, you don't do anything but desire to manifest something into the 4D. If you have good assumptions about the 3D, you'll get your desires right away, but if you limit yourself to what you see in the 3D, you either won't get your desires, or will only get what the current 3D can realistically give you.

The key is to stop limiting yourself to the 3D. Personally, I do this by allowing myself to trust my subconscious mind more than the 3D. I know that my subconscious has given me what I want, and I know it's going to reflect in the 3D, so I don't limit the 3D to only one set of circumstances because I know that isn't the true nature of reality.

Of course, it does make it easier that I talk to my subconscious mind/ higher self often, but that's going into spiritual territory (which I can talk about in separate posts).

If this way of doing it doesn't resonate with you, then I suggest trying to find something that does! You can script, visualize, meditate, etc - just remember the goal isn't to make something happen, it's to let what's already in the 4D through into your 3D 💕

[ponett]

hello!

Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas 🎄🎁🎉 😄

I was gonna ask when the series had gone on a little longer, but since you got gifted "Do A Powerbomb", I was wondering if you'd checked out DWJ's Transformers run?

Have a wonderful day! 🌠

I have! I've been following it as it comes out and was completely enamored with it by the end of the first issue, which is why I wanted to read Do a Powerbomb (which also completely owns)

After IDW lost the Transformers license I kind of dreaded what a new publisher might do with the property. IDW had pushed Transformers into so many new and exciting directions over the years, giving me some of my favorite Transformers stories ever and shaping other parts of the franchise for years to come (and also making a ton of Transformers canonically queer). The last thing I wanted was for a new publisher to throw all that out and just go back to square one with easy G1 cartoon nostalgia. Especially after I ended up being really unenthused with the post-continuity reboot "IDW2" era, I worried that it could be years and years before we got another new Transformers comic that really spoke to me like the MTMTE/RiD era did

And then Daniel Warren Johnson's Transformers dropped from Skybound. Despite leaning so hard into G1 cartoon aesthetics, and despite being part of a new shared universe with the okay-but-not-amazing Void Rivals by Robert Kirkman and some GI Joe comics I don't really care about, I was cautiously optimistic because I'd previously heard really good things about DWJ's other work. And I've just been absolutely blown away by it. It's already one of the greatest Transformers comics ever made

From the very first page you can tell it's doing new things with the traditional Transformers iconography, while also tapping into the heart of the series better than anything else I've seen in years. The hand-inked art can be a little loose and messy, but that helps give it so much energy, ESPECIALLY in the inventive fight scenes. Whether it's vehicle mode action, Optimus doing literal wrestling moves on Decepticons, or even just a panel of someone transforming, there is SO much life in all of DWJ's drawings. But he also cares about tying things to the human cast in really compelling ways. We've already gotten so many good scenes between the robots and the humans that give it so much heart. The deer scene with Optimus and Spike went viral for a reason, it was instantly one of the best Optimus Prime scenes ever written. It's not just about the robots or the humans, it's about the dichotomy between them. He gets it

I love a lot of IDW's comics that are just about robots interacting with other robots many light years from Earth and barely ever even transforming on the page, but like. This is the comic you wanna hand to someone to be like "This is what Transformers is about. This is why it fucking rules"

Seriously, though. Anyone with even a passing interest in Transformers should be reading these. I am constantly on the edge of my seat waiting for the next issue these days. Look, Optimus literally suplexes Starscream in the first fucking issue YOU HAVE TO READ THIS

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Love Across the Galaxy 🌌 | Helmut Zemo Imagine

Contains spoilers for GOTG Vol.3

Link to my Marvel masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Baron Helmut Zemo x Roman Goddess/Guardians!reader (romantic), The Thunderbolts—Baron Zemo, Bucky Barnes, Thaddeus Ross, Valentina Alegra De Fontaine, John Walker, Ghost, Justin Hammer, Taskmaster, Yelena, & Red Hulk (platonic), The Guardians of the Galaxy—Quill, Mantis, Nebula, Drax, Rocket, Groot, Kraglin, & Cosmo (platonic)

Content Warnings: profanity, light angst, fluff, mentions of death, fighting & violence, spoilers for GOTG Vol.3 (don’t read if you haven’t seen it!) | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: In which Baron Helmut Zemo, hater of the Avengers and desire to rid the planet of enhanced beings, becomes a member of the antihero team led by General Thaddeus Ross & CIA Director Valentina Fontaine where he meets the legendary group of misfits turned Guardians of the freakin Galaxy and loses his heart to a Goddess with a love for 80s music and talent for cutting of limbs.

Note: GOTG Vol 3 has permanently altered my brain chemistry and I cannot stop thinking about it. Truly the best film since Endgame & it’s inspired me cause I’m also back to loving Zemo again. I refuse to believe Marvel would give us a Thunderbolts film w/o Zemo so I will make sure he’s in this team.

After learning about all the Gods in Thor: Love & Thunder, picture you are Minerva, the Roman Goddess of Wisdom & War (Roman equivalent to the Greek’s Athena) and has cosmic powers similar to the Eternal’s Thena and has been with the Guardians since the events of the first GOTG film.

————————

Fall 2023

“I don’t see why we need these people to help us,” Zemo rolled his eyes, strolling beside General Ross with the rest of the team around them. Once outside the cool breeze hit him, ruffling the lapels of his coat as his eyes squinted from the bright light.

Ross lets out a tired sigh, “Because, Zemo, as much as it galls me to admit it this threat is far beyond what we can deal with. It’s not terrestrial and chances are these…” he had trouble coming up with the word, “let’s just say they’re more experienced for this situation.”

They all stop before the flight line. It’s clear all around them with no sign of an approaching vessel.

“Who are these guys again?” Justin Hammer popped some jelly beans in his mouth. John looks down at the file in his hands, making a face as he does.

“They call themselves…The Guardians of the Galaxy.”

“Oh God,” Bucky moans, immediately making mental notes to protect his mental arm knowing a certain talking animal was on the hunt for it. He was gonna have to sleep with one eye open.

Zemo raises his brow, “Friends of yours, James?” Bucky is not pleased by the assumption.

“I wouldn’t call them that.”

“Aren’t they part of the Avengers?” Ava’s tone is slightly disapproving. While Scott Lang and the Pym/Van Dyne’s helped her, she still got bad rep despite doing what she did to survive.

Zemo, not happy with the idea of working with Avengers, snatches the file from Walker.

“Not technically,” Ross replies while Zemo reads over the page. “They arrived with Thor in 2018 against the first battle with Thanos, remained an associate to the team while continuing whatever the hell it is they do in space, and returned in 2023 to defeat the purple bastard once and for all.”

“Did you fight with them, Bucky?” Yelena asks from beside the soldier.

“Yeah,” the memory appears in his mind. Specifically where he grabbed Rocket by the scruff and spun them in circles to cover more area as they fired off their guns. “Our interactions were brief…but memorable.”

The Baron had seen many things over the years, like the rest of humanity with the formation of the Avengers and reveal of intergalactic and enhanced beings, but to stay he wasn’t thinking, ‘what the fuck?’ by the picture in front of him would be a lie.

An earthling turned ravager, a blue mercenary, a woman with antennas, a genetically engineered raccoon, a living tree, a gray alien that could take down Thor, a man with a metal Mohawk, a telekinetic dog, and an exiled sword wielding Goddess. All misfits and outcasts, mostly space criminals turned superhero guardians of the cosmos.

Well….they were quite the bunch.

“They are not still with the Avengers, I take it?” Zemo wanders around, eyes lingering on the Goddess. White streaks adorned her natural hair color, eyes gold and lips painted with what appeared to be a permanent smirk. She wore a gold and white headpiece that had an owl extending its wings.

Name/Alias: Minerva, Goddess of War; Race: Deity; Planet of Origin: Caelum; Age: approx. 2500 yrs (39 Earth yrs); Occupation: Warrior/Mercenary/Defender of the Andromeda Galaxy; Allegiance: The High Council of Caelum (formerly), Guardians of the Galaxy, Thor, God of Thunder, The Avengers (formerly); Abilities: Cosmic manipulation, enhanced strength, agility, speed, & durability, thermal detection & mental teleportation; Specialization: artillery and battle strategy.

Ross let out a sigh, “only when the planet is about to go to shit due to an intergalactic threat. Which we’ve now got on our hands, but considering the Avengers are all on sabbatical I’m sending you in,” he checks his watch, “but I need all the extra hands and like I said, they’re experienced.”

Zemo stares at the blank sky, “How will we know they've arrived?”

“Believe me,” Ross mutters under his breath. “You’ll know.”

A loud rumbling noise caught everyone’s attention, gazes turning upward as a hexagon shaped breech in the sky revealed a very large spaceship in its wake, followed by the distinct lyrics of AC/DC’s ‘Back to Black.’

“Back in black. I hit the sack. I’ve been too long, I’m glad to be back. Yes, I’m let loose. From the noose. That’s kept me hanging about.”

“Oh my,” Yelena breathed out, hair flying back from the gust of wind. Zemo lifted a hand to cover his face from the leaves, as did the others, many wide eyed.

“I’ve been looking at the sky. ‘Cause it’s gettin’ me high. Forget the hearse ‘cause I never die. I got nine lives. Cat’s eyes. Abusin’ every one of them running wild.”

“Great song,” Justin voiced, grinning from ear to ear. The ship made its descent, music getting louder.

“‘Cause I’m back. Yes, I’m back. Well, I’m back,” it approached the tarmac, “Yes, I’m back. Well, I’m back, back.” wheels hit the tarmac, engine powering down but music still blasting, “Well, I’m back in black,” the ship doors opened, revealing steps extending to the ground, “Yes, I’m back in black.”

It was almost like a scene from a movie. Slow-motion if one will by how the Guardians exited their ship and stepped foot on the tarmac with AC/DC on full volume. All dressed in their new suits of red and blue leather with the Ravager flames on the chest.

Arriving in style.

Quill led with the rest flanking his sides. Drax munching on snacks while Nebula looked menacing and Groot towered over everyone. Cosmo had her tongue out in excitement, Rocket carrying his gun strapped to his back. Mantis’s chin held high, like she was on top of the world and Kraglin trying not to appear lost. Lastly Minerva was drinking a caprisun, Ray Bans covering her gold eyes.

Zemo tilts his head in amusement at the sight. He expected the Goddess, of war nonetheless, to have a more menacing approach like Nebula considering her reputation. But she was just as relaxed and laid back as Drax.

The Guardians walked several paces until they were directly in front of the Thunderbolts. It was then the music stopped, Ross being the first to address them. “You sure know how to make an entrance.”

Quill gave a smug grin, “We know.” Hands go to his hips, “You’re wearing a suit so you must be the boss man. Although I believe there’s also a boss lady we’re here to do business with.”

“Director Fontaine is currently occupied. She’ll be arriving in the morning.”

“I assume we won’t be knowing a damn thing until that happens, huh?”

Ross tightens his lips, “You assume correctly.”

“I told you we should’ve handled it on our own,” Minerva’s glances to Quill annoyed. Surprised by her voice, Zemo's eyebrows raised at her sudden input. Her accent was slightly Italian given her mythological origin is Roman.

Quill clicked his tongue, “We don’t have authority here, Minnie.”

“Midgard is part of the Andromeda Galaxy. Technically we should.”

Now the man was giving her a pointed look after Ross’s body language turned defensive, “I’d rather not get our asses thrown in Earth’s prison system. We go by the rules—the ones we established.”

Minerva grumbles under her breath, finishing the last remnants of her juice pouch, “Would’ve finished the job faster. They wouldn’t even know we were here.”

“Okay well, we’re doing things this way. We’re here as a team to work with a team. Right, Mr. Secretary?”

Ross’ disapproving eyes linger on Minerva, who in return rolls her own, before turning his attention back to Quill, “Yes. Now let’s move on shall we?”

He lets out a breath of relief, “Agreed.” Bidding a warning look to each of his teammates, they all wait for what the man in the suit has to say. Ross extends a hand to the people on either side of him.

“This is my team. All with different levels of skill and experience. Justin Hammer is our tech and weapons specialist,” Justin gives a wave, “Yelena Belova,” Ross points to the blonde in a white tactical suit, “former Black Widow and master assassin.” At the mention of Black Widow Rocket, Nebula, and Minerva all tense, faces becoming solemn at the memory of Natasha. They were the three remaining Guardians during the blip, becoming close with the Avenger.

“Ava Starr, she can phase through anything,” they all look impressed, finding the talent cool. “Antonia Dreykov, who we like to call Taskmaster.”

“Why’s that?” Kraglin asked intrigued.

“She has photographic reflexes and can mimic your fighting powers. Basically use your own moves against you.”

“Niceeee,” all the Guardians echo. Ross points to the two individuals in between Zemo and Yelena.

“Our super soldiers, Captain John Walker and I believe you all know Sergeant Barnes.” Bucky tightens his mouth with a curt nod.

“You still got that arm on ya?” Rocket muses, earning a nudge—well more like a kick—from Minerva. The rest of the Thunderbolts besides Bucky all become wide-eyed at the talking Raccoon…even though it said on the file he could.

But how the fuck else were they suppose to react to a talking raccoon?

All Bucky does is glare, “Don’t even think about it.” Rocket shrugs, “Worth a shot.”

“Why is that one carrying a giant frisbee?” Drax’s mouth is filled with Zargnuts. Walker, the man in question, becomes visibly offended.

“It’s a shield not a frisbee.” Zemo bites back a smirk at the soldier's tone. Not to mention the Guardians' reactions were priceless.

“A shield?” Mantis repeats confused.

“It’s a frisbee,” Drax mumbles.

“Like that circular object Minerva conjures to deflect attacks,” Nebula tiredly explains. Mantis’s mouth forms the shape of an ‘o’.

“And lastly,” Ross sounds just as exhausted as the cyborg, “Baron Helmut Zemo, former intelligence operative.”

“I am Groot,” Zemo’s attention goes to the tree alien, confused by his words. Minerva, seeing his expression, addresses it, “He says he likes your fancy cape.”

‘Cape?’ He thinks, but doesn’t comment on it and his perplexed reaction makes Minerva smirk. Instead Zemo says, “Well, I appreciate the compliment. Thank you.” Groot’s pleased, grinning wide like a child.

It’s then Quill’s turn to formally introduce the Guardians. The Thunderbolts bite back their own amusement at the nicknames and surprise of hearing the dog, Cosmo, speak through her suit with a distinct Russian accent. Afterwards Ross leads them all into the hangar, Minerva removing her sunglasses now that she was inside, allowing her gold eyes to be visible.

From there they all interact, awkwardly for the most part as they have no idea what the hell to do as they wait for further instruction. It soon becomes bickering and even challenging someone in hand-to-hand combat.

Well, what can you expect when a team of heroes meet a team of villains/anti heroes? Rivalry at its finest.

“Any day now, Quill,” Minerva groans, relaxing her stance. Across from her several feet away was Walker, confused by why she was taking so long to attack. They were standing in the middle of the squared off area with the teams surrounding them, but giving enough space to avoid being in the crossfire. Quill was scrolling through his Walkmen.

“What’s he doing?” Zemo whispers to Kraglin, eyes flicking back and forth from the human Guardian and the Goddess.

“Trying to find a good fight song. You know, get the vibes going.” Out on the square Minerva lets out a loud huff signaling her annoyance was increasing.

“Just give me another second—.”

“Quill.”

“I almost got it.”

“Pick a goddamn song!”

“Fine!” Quill shouts, randomly selecting the first one his finger hits. A second later Duran Duran’s ‘Hungry Like the Wolf,’ blasts through all the speakers attached to the Guardians arms. The antiheroes become perplexed, while also noting the song choice. Justin and Yelena started to bop their heads.

“Darken the city, night is a wire. Steam in the subway, earth is afire. (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do)”

Minerva smirked, retaking her stance. As she lifts her hands, cosmic energy around her consorts to physical matter, taking the shape of a spear and shield in either hand. Wide eyes take over the Thunderbolts.

“Woman, you want me, give me a sign. And catch my breathing even closer behind. (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do)”

“Wow,” Justin exhales. “In touch with the ground. I’m on the hunt, I’m after you.”

“That’s so cool,” Yelena muses, others muttering in agreement. “Smell like the sound, I'm lost in the crowd. And I’m hungry like the wolf.” Keeping his admirations to himself, Zemo watches the scene unfold in silence.

“First one to step or get thrown out of the square loses,” Bucky shouts over the music, “Ready….” Walker clutches the strap of his shield, Minerva twirling her spear once, “Fight!”

“Stalked in the forest, too close to hide,” Walker lets out a cry, charging at the Goddess. “I’ll be upon you by the moonlight side (Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do,” Minerva blocks his attack, pushing back slightly only to crouch to swipe at his legs, “High blood drumming on your skin, it’s so tight,” Walker dodges her spear, but fails to avoid her kick to his chest, sending him backward. “You feel my heat, I’m just a moment behind.” He brings his shield up in time as her spear barrels down at him. “Do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do-do.”

They continue their one-on-one for several minutes, both coming close to getting the other out of the square and the song changing to ‘Cherry Bomb’ by The Runaways—a favorite amongst the Guardians. The entire time Zemo was mesmerized to say the least. Every move she made was effortless, showcasing strengths and ability to predict Walker's moves.

He hadn’t felt such attraction to a woman in so long. And here he was experiencing a feeling that was almost unfamiliar.

Ultimately Minerva wins the battle in what one would call a divine move. At the peak of the song, Minerva’s golden eyes glow bright resulting in the eyes of the owl headpiece to also glow and become animated. It takes form, coming to life and soars straight at Walker, throwing him off by covering his face.

“What the—uuugh!!” He’s flying through the air, back meeting the harsh ground with an audible groan. The owl leaves him, returning to Minerva and consorting back into a headpiece. When it does her eyes dim back to their normal hue. Her team broke out into whistles and hollars, meanwhile Walker’s were unimpressed.

“Guardians for the win!” Rocket cheered.

“I am Groot!”

“Never underestimate the power of Duran Duran!”

Minerva helps Walker up, “Not bad, soldier.” As she turns to head off the pad, her eyes lock with Zemo’s and a wink is sent his way. Heat rises in the Baron, glancing away to hide his smirk.

Oh boy, trouble was on the horizon.

Next Yelena went against Nebula. Their fight was even more intense and nearly ended in a draw. Eventually Yelena overpowered the cyborg and got her to step out of the square. It was a tie. Groot and Rocket teamed up against Ross in the form of the Red Hulk—which took a lot of convincing—the two claiming the win after fooling the General. Taskmaster beat out Quill, handing his ass to him which had the Guardians in a heap of laughter.

“I enjoyed that more than I should have,” Minerva teases, crossing her arms as she takes a spot beside Zemo. He glances at her, mirroring her expression.

“Not a common occurrence for your friend to lose a fight?”

She scoffs, “You’d be surprised by his record.”

Lastly Bucky went toe-to-toe with Drax, and of course Rocket had to yell, “Take his arm and give it to me!” And well….it ended with them tackling each other out of the square.They didn’t know who won at that point, so the teams were tied 2-2 initiating a debate on who should be crowned the best.

“Okay, let’s call it a day,” Ross announces, ending the squabbling between the groups. “Night’s upon us and frankly I could use a drink. We’ll return here first thing in the morning—7am sharp to discuss the threat and where to go,” he turns to Quill, “we’ve got sleeping quarters arranged for you all if you please. Otherwise my guess is you’ll remain in your ship?”

About an hour later, after both teams settled for the night, Zemo decided to take a walk around the flight line. It became a habit of his since joining the Thunderbolts. A way to clear his mind after a long day of briefings and training. He basked in the peace that came with being alone, but there were times he felt lonely and longing for company to share the peace with.

Ten years since losing his family and the pain never strayed. Yet, he managed to live with it. He accomplished his goal in 2016 when he tore apart the Avengers. Likely is to blame for the loss against Thanos resulting in half of the universe’s population turning into dust for five years.

Did he feel remorse for the consequences of his actions? Possibly. Did he regret it? No. At this rate he’s accepted the reputation he painted himself to be.

“Zemo, correct?” The sudden intrusion spooked the Baron, jumping slightly by the glowing eyes in the darkness. A moment later Minerva stepped into the lighting, eyes dimming to normal. She was still in her suit, though her hair was pulled back, white streaks seeping through the natural color.

“Yes, but you may call me Helmut,” he replied, nodding in greeting to the Goddess.

“Helmut,” she tests the name, “like the headwear people use when they ride bikes or spacesuits?”

“That’s one way to look at it, but yes I suppose so.”

“Interesting. What brings you out this late in the evening?”

He shrugs, “wanted to get away from the constant complaining of my comrades,” eyes go to the sky, “and I like to admire the stars.” Minerva moves to his right, glancing up as well.

“They’re much more incredible up close.” He peers down at her, not bothering to question her judgment. She lives in space after all.

“I bet so. I’m sure the view from here is nothing compared to what you’ve witnessed.”

She shrugs, “These stars you don’t even know if they’re still alive. It took years—possibly millions—for the light to reach Earth.” Zemo looks back up, focusing on the North Star.

“For all we know they burnt out ages ago.”

Their eyes connect, Zemo feeling a weight on his chest by the intensity of her gaze. It’s followed by unease when she says, “Natasha told me about you.”

Instantly he looks away, feeling an unfamiliar wave of dread. “Ah.” Here was a discussion he was not expecting, nor willing, to have.

But Minerva didn’t show criticism. In fact, her gaze and tone resembled understanding. “How do you do it?” The question took him aback.

“Do what, exactly?”

“Align yourself with people who go against what you stand for?” Minerva’s tone wasn’t condescending at all, only curious. “Most of your team are enhanced individuals—two are super soldiers to be exact. You went to many lengths to disband the Avengers and put an end to superheroes,” there’s a slight tilt of her head, eyeing the Baron with intrigue, “but you join a group consisting of people who fall between the spectrum of hero and villain where most are the exact thing you wished to eradicate. Not to mention led by two people you wouldn’t say you share similar moral values with. Why join them?”

For the first time in his life, Zemo was at a loss for words. Not a single word uttered as he tried to comprehend what Minerva had just confronted him with. How could he explain? Hell, he didn’t even know the real truth other than wanting to stay out of his cell. A big price to pay in exchange for freedom.

Minerva spoke again before he could respond, “I once committed an act similar to you,” the surprise is evident on Zemo, “Vengeance against those who were responsible for the death of my loved ones. It’s why I was exiled,” a frown appears, her attention returning to the stars. “So I understand you, probably better than anyone here. Understand why you committed those acts to destroy the Avengers. I don’t fault you for what you did—if I did it would make me a hypocrite. You’re not the villain Ross and the Avengers made you out to be.”

“How so?” His voice is strained, “what have you lost?” He didn’t mean to come off as defensive, but the conversation was bringing up emotions Zemo didn’t want to face.

“As Goddess of War all I knew was bloodshed. How to prevent it and how to fight it. Battle strategy was my domain, and the High Council knew better than to question my judgment,” she releases an exhale, “but Mars, the God of War and my brother, was my ultimate rival. He hated how much our father doted on me and agreed with plans I coordinated. It made him feel inferior. He’d do anything to prove himself.” Her tone remains neutral despite the painful memory surfacing.

Zemo remained quiet, picturing the scene as Minerva relayed it. Though stoic the Baron could see the pain and sadness lurking behind her eyes. Managing it as best she could for the sake of her friends. Who knows how many years it’d been since she lost whoever it was close to her. But the hole would always remain.

“To put it short,” she started again, bidding a glance, “Our home was under attack and his rash decision to slow down the enemy led to the death of my family—my husband and children.” Sympathy arose in the Baron, understanding her anguish, “An intentional move on Mars’ part because he believed I wouldn’t be fit to remain on the High Council after stuffing such a loss, therefore he would take my place as Head Commander of our armies and my father’s second Command.”

“He wasn’t exiled?” The question left Zemo before he could stop it. Confused by how the God avoided persecution for his crime, Minvera was shunned. “Your family was targeted.”

Minerva’s smile was bitter, “because their deaths were a result of war, the High Council viewed it as collateral. They failed to see Mars’ responsibility, believing he didn’t intend to kill them. So, I took it upon myself to bring justice. Not only to Mars but also the High Council.” Her smile fell once more, “I made sure they would pay. And they did, but it was far from over after finishing the job. Those who survived didn’t hesitate to throw me out to the wolves once I was contained.”

Zemo nods his head, “where did you go afterward if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was imprisoned on Xandar for some time,” well they certainly had some things in common, “Once I escaped I became what your people would call a bounty hunter. Where it led me to meeting those clowns I now call my family,” she pauses before adding, “and escaping prison for a second time. Only it was to save the Galaxy.”

The laugh that escapes Zemo surprises him, “I guess it all worked out then.” Once more they lock eyes, twinkling against the stars shining down above.

“I suppose it did.”

Three Years Later

Zemo raced out the door the moment he awoke to rumbling that shook the foundation of his home. After three years he’d recognize the sound in an instant, only this time it was without warning.

An action that rarely occurred.

Throwing on his coat and house slippers, the clock read 2:30 am, flooding the Baron with worry. ‘What is she doing here at this hour?”

Usually when Minerva drops in she gives Zemo a heads up. A day or two’s notice, but recently he couldn’t get a hold of her and passed it off as the Guardians on a job. With the unexpected visit, so late at night, Zemo instantly knew something was wrong.

Hurrying out to the front lawn right as her ship landed, Zemo jogged to where the stairs extended. When they did, the doors revealed his Goddess, still wearing her suit, standing before him. Zemo noted the exhaustion painting her demeanor. Dark circles beneath her eyes, which appeared dimmer than usual, and scars indicating recently healed wounds.

His arms are around her the moment she’s within distance, her own around his neck, “This is a surprise.”

“Sorry I didn’t call,” the exhaustion was evident in her voice. Barely above a whisper causing Zemo to tighten his hold.

“It’s alright, darling. I’m just glad to see you are okay,” his hand runs along her hair, “wanna tell me what happened?” He hears her sniff, increasing his dread, “Close call?”

“Too many,” her voice cracks and there’s a pause. “We almost lost Rocket. We saved him thankfully, but then we nearly lost Peter. And I almost—,” she stops short, not wanting to relive her near death experience. “This was…it was too much for all of us, Helmut.” A kiss is pressed to her head, offering comfort.

“Let’s get you inside, mein schatz.” Zemo leads Minerva into the home, sitting her in the living room while he goes to put a kettle on the stove. Filling two cups of cherry blossom tea, Minerva’s favorite, he joins her in the living room.

After taking her first sip of the brew, Minerva removes the headpiece from her hair and makes herself comfortable before giving Zemo a play-by-play of the past three days. He stays quiet, listening intently but visibly reacts with each awful detail Minvera relays to him. From the unexpected attack from Adam Warlock, to the disgusting abuse Rocket endured at the hands of the High Evolutionary, to Quill nearly imploading in space had it not been for Adam’s change of heart.

Zemo’s knuckles turned white when Minerva spoke of what happened to her. Anger consumed him and he wished he had been there to protect her. Seeing his distress Minerva placed her hand on his, gently squeezing, “I’m okay, Helmut. I’m here now and we all made it out. There were many close calls, but we’re all alive and that’s what matters.”

Taking her hand, Zemo brought it up to brush his lips against her fingers, softly kissing her knuckles. “I don’t know what I would've done if I lost you, Minnie. I—-,” he stops himself to exhale, squeezing his eyes shut, “I would’ve found a way to fly across the galaxy to avenge you.”

“I know you would,” she murmurs, removing her hand but positioning herself in his lap. Arms snake around his neck, pulling him so they were inches apart. “I’d expect nothing less. Also I’d be a hypocrite considering I would do the same for you.” A playful smirk formed, “I was already plotting when Ross let you get captured by those bastards last year. Had it ended any other way, Ross would cease to exist.”

Zemo snickered, “I see we haven’t really changed completely despite our friends believing the opposite. Neither of us hesitating to return to old ways if it comes down to such circumstances.”

She smirks, “No, I don’t suppose we haven’t.”

“What a pair we are,” leaning in, his lips meet hers in a soft caress. Warmth seeping through his veins. That effortless high he believed he’d never have again after the loss of his family.

But he found it with a Goddess in the stars. Where love swept across the galaxy.

When they pull away after a moment, Zemo keeps his forehead against hers. Gold meeting brown. “I’m not sure I can let you go now, liebling. At least not for a while.”

“You never have to anymore,” her words have him startled, the man pulling away slightly to get a better look at her.

“What are you saying?”

Minerva’s gaze turns soft, though there’s slight nervousness, “After everything we all realized something. We found the family we were searching for, but some of us needed to find ourselves. Peter’s here on Earth to find his grandfather. Mantis is off on her own adventure. Drax and Nebula are on Knowhere to help raise the children we saved from the High Evolutionary. Rocket and Groot are leading a new era of the Guardians. And me,” she stops, emitting a gaze full of love that takes Zemo’s breath away. “I’d like to be here. With you, Helmut. If you’ll have me.”

If his heart could explode from the happiness Zemo was feeling it would. Tears were threatening to prick his eyes, the Baron willing himself to remain composed. “Oh, Schatz,” he croaked, cupping the side of her jaw. “I should be the one asking you that. Of course I’ll have you. I love you more than every star in the galaxy.” With that he kisses her, putting all his love and passion it causes her own eyes to water.

“I love you too,” she kisses him again. They remain on the couch, falling asleep eventually curled up in each other’s embrace. Their last thoughts filled with joy as they awaited the new adventure on the horizon.

An adventure just between them. A reinstated Goddess and a fully pardoned Baron opening the next chapter of their lives. Together.

[eddsworld-the-masquerade]

Blog update: “About” and “Characters” pages rewrite 

First of, happy new year everyone! Hoping this one doesn’t end me for good haha. 

As stated above, “About” and “Characters” pages have been updated with new info, character description, sheets and art (which you see in this post). You’ll need to open the blog in browser in order to view these pages. Keep in mind that it’s all subject to change given that the story is still in early development (I wrote down 1/4 of the script plan so far) and I might get rid of things I feel I can’t utilize properly. 

I’m also opening the ask box again, so if the text inspires you or makes you wonder certain things, you can drop your message there :) I can’t promise I’ll be quick to answer and I probably won’t be able to answer all of your asks but I’ll do my best to read through them all. 

Under the cut is rest of the concept art (and some of my rambling) so I don’t make the post too bloated to scroll through:

Edd’s style is still considered “weird” but in a more obnoxious and bold way. It’s screaming “Look at me! Look at me! I’ll have you look my way like it or not!”. I like the silly thought of him coming to embrace larger suits thanks to his sire. It is comfortable! And one of the kind - if you were wondering for what purpose Edd needs sewing skills, that’s the answer :)  

Tord lost his iconic sweater and scarf. I gotta say I wasn’t sure if bare chest idea would work out but I’m glad I tried it cuz heck yeah it did. Love it or hate it Tord doesn’t give a damn 😎   His fake horns are now slicked back which makes him look like a disgruntled kitten lol And I added a belt buckle, it’s a skull being crushed by a hammer (roughly designed after thor’s hammer as a nod to his origin); it carries a certain personal significance too 

Matt style is still inspired by vintage suits and illustrations but customized for personal taste. Like the vest being asymmetrical, or the suit being more “flappy” and with a big cutout on the back. It’s sort of a way of saying “I might be playing by the rules but I do it my own way”. He is ultimate bishounen now and his power is mesmerizing enemies with that iconic anime stare and sound effects (this is a joke, but a joke I love) 

Tom had it worst XD but also I had the most fun with him. The pale yellow parts on his body are supposed to be bone and um...shell...thing...you know when something spends a lot of time in the water in the open sea and you get it out and it’s covered in those THINGS yeah I can’t find the word but hopefully you got my point hahaha. It was hard to keep him as monstrous as possible but also recognizable but I think giving him the monster tom color palette did the job. Also yes he got scales. And the texture I did on his skin is supposed to be semi-transparent...like jello maybe? he’s hideous and a pain to color and i love him lol

I also did this little relationship chart to explain changes in the well relationships in-group! 

[mintywolf]

A Long Road Home - Page 40 Author Notes

Page 40

She culled the Karens. ;)

Also alas Imogen can’t use Mage Hand to get things off high shelves at work because some customer would complain. Probably Esther Hayes.

In Ye Olden Times when the theory of humors in disease was still prevalent (debunked with the advent of germ theory in the 1850s but the practices based on it remained in common use until the late 19th century* ) the first treatment given to a patient would be to rid them of “excess” humors by bloodletting and inducing vomiting, doubtless rendering an already miserable person even moreso. Leeches, fire cupping, or a lancet were used for the former, and mustardseed or antimonials (made with the toxic metal antimony :[ ) were used for the latter. Mustardseed was also used to make poultices for sore throats and respiratory ailments. Licorice was used for sore throats and itchy skin. Baths from epsom salts or oatmeal were (and are) used to relieve the itchiness from rash-causing diseases like the one the town is currently experiencing.** Quinine was actually mostly used for malaria so one person is confused about what’s going around. Belladonna (aka deadly nightshade), although toxic, actually had some effectiveness as a preventative for scarlet fever if taken early after exposure. And laudanum, as I have mentioned before, was used for everything. So there’s some context for all the assorted shopping lists bombarding Imogen over the first three panels.

(* which I mention because Exandria’s technological level as of C3 seems to be early Industrial Era, although my Gelvaan aesthetic also has some 1880s and 1930s elements. And magical healing seems to be reserved for the privileged, given the high cost of healing potions, how many strings the relatively-anonymous Bells Hells had to pull to get help for Laudna, and the number of people who seem genuinely surprised when FCG offers them healing out of kindness. Most people probably rely on home remedies.)

** which hasn’t been made obvious yet but it will on the next page. You can see some suggestion of the eponymous scarlet on Imogen’s neck in the bottom left panel though.

So a long time and several fandoms ago a friend used to give me a hard time about my over-reliance on melodramatic Victorian novel disease as a plot device (specifically, targeting the heroine — or her best beloved — with it) so I imposed a rule on myself that I could only deploy it once per fandom (with the assumption that I’d have a different audience every time) and it had to drive the story forward. And friends, the time has come.

But I mean, come on. I couldn’t hang that gun on the wall and not have it go off and hit one of them.

This fandom’s enthusiasm for sickfics and whump in general has relaxed my stance a bit though. Before coming here I didn’t realize it was an entire genre and moreover, one that seems to target Imogen almost exclusively. If I had I might have leaned towards the alternative I also considered where Imogen tries futilely to convince an angry mob that obviously Laudna didn’t curse the town with a plague if she has it too. But then they’d be on the run before she had a chance to recover (you know, like after she got resurrected no I’m not still salty about it*** ) which isn’t a very satisfying chapter end. But fear not, this is all reciprocated in a later chapter.

A common thread I’ve noticed in sick Imogen fics though is that Laudna always seems to be much more calm and reassuring about it than she should be, haha. Imogen is the only thing in the world she genuinely cares about and she’s already half convinced that she’s always just a few missteps away from losing her forever. She’d be panicking.

(*** this is a lie. Also you know what else I’m still mad about? That she didn’t get that lil gryphon toy!! She clearly wanted it, she went in looking for a toy because she was feeling vulnerable and childlike and wanted the comfort of something simple intended to make a child happy. (Which is even more clear now since she was in the same regressive emotional state then as she has been recently after Ashton ate the lava shard, which she coped with by making another doll.) Fearne bought it and totally forgot about it. :( We could have had another meat-named doll character this entire time!!!

[fantasyinvader]

So, I was thinking more about Edelgard's Japanese line in Hopes about her getting rid of Fodlan's "absurdity." I recalled another line changed from the Japanese, how Edelgard is said to want to "reforge" the world. Or rather, how it's supposed to be that Edelgard wants to put the world back to what it once was. And I was thinking on this, what was the world like before the Empire and Church? The answer is the Fodlan ruled by Nemesis, who Edelgard sees as a champion of humanity. That's when it hit me.

Nemesis was an Agarthan puppet, and the Agarthans don't see most people as humans. From what the game says during it's info dumps, they got drunk on their own power and viewed themselves as gods.

Rhea:Eventually people began to think of themselves as gods and challenged the progenitor god herself to battle.

Adding to this is the note from an Elite, who viewed his Relic as "sacred".

My life, along with my sacred weapon, will unquestionably be forfeit. My dear son and daughter… I hope you can forgive me one day.

(Also I like how in the Japanese, the final page says "What exactly did King Nemesis do to Seiros? Was it a mistake to go along with his story?" Aka, should I have believed what this guy said?".)

The usage of "sacred" is consistent with the Japanese, which would connect it with some sort of religion. This era, which we were led to believe was an era of humanity ruling itself, had it's own gods of sorts. The Agarthans gave the Elites the Relics and the Crests, the former we know they viewed as sacred, which would connect it to their religion as well as Rhea's claim that the Agarthans thought themselves as gods.

Edelgard wants to get rid of the Nabateans, the Church and any influence they've had on Fodlan. But that just means she wants to go back to a time when the Agarthans were viewed as gods by the people. Sure, she'll get rid of the Agarthans themselves when she has no more use for them, but society will still be based on her trying to return things to the way they were during the time of Nemesis. It'll be based on Agarthan ideals. Suddenly, a "world for humanity" makes a lot more sense.

Just trading the teachings of the goddess, stuff like not abusing your power and using it to help others, for the teachings of a bunch of racist dickheads, that's all Edelgard is doing. No wonder Mercedes doesn't support her new church in Flower.

[agirlandherquill]

the calendar project - day 3

you can undoubtedly guess what genius clicked save as draft rather than post as i thought i had - so this one's being posted a day late, but it is all yesterday's work so it sticks to the project rules (thankfully)

daily page count: 2

time spent: 45 minutes

I haven’t got the faintest clue who I’m looking for, which means I’ll have to spend longer here than I’d like. 

Longer perhaps, than he would have cared to spend away from the only person that tempted him to tolerate this place.

The summons had seemed important, and to undergo his business he needed a clear head - which meant ridding himself of his encroaching headache and heading for the table stacked with glasses. 

His calloused hands adjusted the collar of his coat, letting the material rest comfortably on his skin. The familiarity of it and the weight of his sword at his hip reassured him that though the danger that lurked within the castle walls was tucked away from sight, he was protected from it - he would protect himself with his sword. The very weapon not one of the guards had batted an eyelid at, he had hardly attempted to conceal it, but none of them cared enough to notice. Makes you wonder what would happen if a real threat showed up. 

His first sip of the finest beverage Cinderian royalty had to offer was his last, he crammed his sleeve against his mouth, coughing wretchedly. 

“For the start of the social season you’d think they would serve something actually worth drinking.”

A voice, full of humour, weighed down by heavy accents of power, invaded his ears. The voice had a way with words, each perfectly pronounced. This was a voice of someone important. It made his spine stiffen.

It had come from behind him, if he played things carefully he could pretend not to hear, he could leave, but with the beverage table being as empty as he had found it, the remark could only be addressed to him - could only be heard by him. Swallowing back a further cough, he responded, “I’ve had worse.”

He hoped it would satisfy the speaker and they would leave, but when a shadow fell upon the table beside him, he knew he had not been so fortunate. The speaker had joined him. With a displeased flare of his nostrils he turned to them - the man reminded him of a soldier, tall, his jaw sharp, his hair firmly styled close to his head - only as neat as the barest minimum of effort would allow - his smouldering stare held the power to silence the greatest of men, that was a gift very few men possessed.

Save for a King.

Expectation demanded it but his spine would not permit him to bow, thankfully, the King seemed as though he couldn’t care less, instead lifting a glass. “I trust you and I have similar tastes.”

“I don’t know what you mean, sire.” He added the respectful term as an afterthought. The King swirled the glass, watching the liquid catch the light, “Drinks, people… Business.”

The glass in his hand threatened to crack with the force at which he set it on the table, prompting a chuckle from the King. “Come now, you didn’t really think someone else would have the knowledge or the need to hire you, did you?” He set his own glass aside, giving him a meaningful look. “I’ve been eager to talk business, shall we?”

“Business is why I’m here.”

The King’s smile was not a nice one. “I had a feeling we would get along… Reid.”

He knows my name. His heart beat a little faster in his chest. He should not know my name - not by this connection. Somehow, he knows me. Not even my clients know me, they are never told my name. Keeping his personal and business life separate was one of the things he prided himself on - such a fact or desire did not appear apparant to the King. Or he simply didn’t care.

He was very glad to have his sword with him at that moment. Whatever I’m walking into I don’t know which is more dangerous - the business deal, or the man proposing it.

Reid had made many deals in his life, but never had he dealt with a King.

[rocketedtothestars]

Update

Gonna be working on my page soon, and updating things. ❤️ it’s been a wild few days for me, but I have some great people in my life who’s been helping me through so much. I want to update a couple of rules for whenever I start RPing on here, which currently I have nothing going on at the moment.

I’m SO EXCITED to have a brand new start in life and on here! I’m hoping that I can make new friends as time goes by and get back into the swing of RPing more on here. I’m no stranger to any of this, like I’ve said, I had an old Fox RP Blog back in like 2015, that I got rid of some years ago (I believe I got rid of it back in 2020). Either way. After some time and consideration, I am back! 💖

My blog is 9 times out of 10 going to consist of Fox McCloud x Rocket Raccoon stuff, since that is a personal favorite ship of mine thanks to my amazing friend who got me into GOTG back when I had my old RP Blog. The reason being is I had to learn to LOVE this character that I didn’t know anything about because I wasn’t really into super hero films and comics back then. It was truly amazing being able to naturally fall in love with something at my own pace and it not feel forced. So (FOCKET) is quite special to me.

Another personal ship I enjoy is Fox X Wolf 🦊❌🐺 and Falco X Fox (so you might see allot of that stuff shared or talked about too)

But generally when it comes to ship RP’s i’m generally open with any OC (as long as it isn’t a female shipment) I do apologize but my Fox is gay. 🏳️‍🌈 but that doesn’t mean I’m opposed to trying out something in the future maybe?

I just want my blog to feel like a safe place not only for myself, but to others who enjoy Star Fox (Or any of the above mentioned characters/ships like Rocket, Wolf, etc). ☺️

💫I want to keep my blog friendly for all, and it is of corse LGBTQ+ Friendly! 💫

Anyway; thank you for reading if you made it this far! 🥹

- ✨SEE YOU IN THE STARS✨

Any icons that I use during RP’s are either drawn for me or from any of the official Star Fox Comics/Games (including Star Link)

[silvmoonsky]

I hope it's okay if i ask what happened in miraculousfanworks? /gen /cur

hiiii <3 yeah, i've never expressed my thoughts on main before but it's been awhile so i don't really care anymore lol. i should clarify that there isn’t necessarily anything "new" that’s happened. i haven’t been on the server since last year (i left about a year ago). and i modded from september 2020 to september 2021 - so again, it’s been awhile. i just have a lot of pent up frustration from my own experiences, as well as frustration regarding other former mods that have also had bad experiences, and was reminded of all of it (which is why i made that post lmao).

my main issue with the server is the management - more specifically, most of the head admins. they were really toxic honestly. the server was a discord server for a kids show. the way they ran the server was as if it was a corporation making money for profits. they were way too obsessed with every single statistic regarding engagement, treated modding like it was a job rather than something we did in our spare time, etc. it was so dumb. and that tanked their engagement actually lol, so much so that they are bringing back events got rid of previously because the events had "too little" engagement, and therefore was deemed useless even when other moderators (me included) wanted to keep running said event. SO IT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT. the server was 10x more active when it had <500 members than it is now, with over 3k. they also were very corporate when it came to modding itself. meaning. there were pages and pages of documents that had sets of rules to follow, a three strike system for moderators (where if you got 3 strikes you were off the team), etc. again: it was a discord server FOR A KIDS SHOW. they were fucking insane lmao.

but that's not even the biggest problem. the main issue for me was the way they treated the minors who were on the mod team. and this is something i realized way after i stepped down as a mod. i really wish i realized it sooner, but it is what it is lol. but basically: i was 14 when i joined the team. i was 15 when i stepped down. i was really young. a lot of my friends who were on the team, either at the same time as me or after, were also pretty young - 14, 15, 16, 17. there were also people who were 18, 19, in their 20s, etc. but i have several issues with the way the admins, 30+ year old adults, treated the minors, actually. for one, they treated them like adults. as in - often they would give a minor a responsibility that was too much for them to handle, realize that "oh of course they can't handle this, it's because they're a minor and they can't be trusted" and then reprimand them or whatever and hand over the responsibility to adults. like. if you want to have minors act like adults, just add adults to the mod team. lmao. i will admit at times, i acted immature. but i was also FIFTEEN. idk what these adults expected from a 15 year old. but on the flip side, they also knew that minors were easily more dedicated to running discord servers. so they kept adding minors to the mod team, even when they were originally going to stop. they gave them huge "projects" such as running social medias, and then complained when things weren't being done a certain way, etc. they were very manipulative. the admins always claimed you could talk about any concerns you had, and that it was okay to disagree with them. once i brought up an issue i had to an admin. maybe i could've brought it up better, but i was very honest about exactly what i felt, and expressed that i didn't like the decisions the admins were making. and i was accused of gaslighting. again, i was FIFTEEN talking to an adult who was over twice my age. that was honestly extremely shitty.

there are also a lot of other specific instances of them accusing/hurting minors on the team. i don't really want to talk about those because they are personal and it's not my place to tell, but it's important to note that it was not just me who had issues. i can genuinely name over 10 former mods (minors and adults) who have had awful experiences/regret ever having modded for the server. the admins played favorites a lot. they swept issues under the rug and let people who shouldn't have stayed on the team, stay on the team; meanwhile, they demoted other people without even bothering to tell them because they decided they weren't contributing enough. it was a shitshow.

there is so much more i haven't talked about, but i'm just gonna stop here for now. i don't really know the current situation of the mod team. in 2022, i still had friends on the team, so i know there were still many issues then, but now idk anyone so i can't say for sure that things are as bad now as they were then (but also, the server may not just be active enough for there to be issues, lmao). but most of the admins i've referred to are still on the team. so that.... should be telling enough, tbh. they never change. they didn't learn from the mistakes they made in 2020, or 2021, and from what i've heard, certainly not in 2022, either. so i am pretty sure things are the same lol.

if you have any questions, lmk, but if they're extremely specific i probably won't answer them (publicly, at least. if you want to send me an ask/dm me off anon feel free).

[blue-corvid]

Tumblr Live Hot(?) Takes

The thing that really kills me about Tumblr Live is honestly that it could have been fine -- useful even!

I already follow streamers on Tumblr! I follow artists, comedians, video game let's-players, tabletop gaming nerds, all of whom stream somewhere that isn't Tumblr! If I could watch them stream on Tumblr, I would absolutely do that!

But Tumblr. My beloved. You fucked it up so bad. You immediately made it as sketchy and annoying as possible, and now... by the point that “everybody hates it” is the thing most people know about it, i can’t imagine it would be easy to save.

So this is my open letter to Tumblr (I don't know who to direct it at -- @staff? I hope that's okay) -- here’s where I think you went wrong, and how you could fix it (if it is, in fact, fixable.)

Tumblr Live appeared silently with no warning.

When it first showed up, the only thing I heard about it was “what the fuck is this?” I Googled it and found basically nothing, and then when I looked it up in Tumblr’s support pages, it wasn’t super clear what Tumblr Live was or what it was for. Streaming platform was only my best guess.

Most of the article was about how you could make money off it. Tumblr, I can’t make money off of it if I don’t know what it is, how to use it, or how to explain it to anyone.

This isn't the case anymore, but it was a serious problem early on.

(Seemingly) no effort to make it look appealing or useful.

It looks and acts like an ad. It’s positioned like an ad at the top of the dashboard. Like an ad, it doesn’t have any connection to what I do or care about on Tumblr.

It looks to be a bunch of still shots from the live chats that it’s promoting and this is just such an unbelievably bad idea.

See, here's the thing: Tumblr has a running problem with porn bots, most of which can be quickly identified by their avatars, which are almost always (stolen) pictures of attractive women, often in revealing clothing.

Guess what every single image I can see on the Tumblr Live ad banner is? Did you guess pictures of attractive women, often in revealing clothing? See the problem? Regardless of my feelings on or desire to interact with cam girls (which are, for the record: I’m not interested personally but I wish you good vibes and good luck and respectful clients), my gut reaction upon seeing the Tumblr Live banner is, “That looks like a bunch of porn bots.”

When you add this to how hard it was to find information about Tumblr Live, how poorly its terms of service were explained, and the state of the internet right now (with every social media site gunning to get its teeth into its uses' throats to vampire as much sensitive personal data from them as possible), Tumblr Live looks dangerous.

When Tumblr users got annoyed with it, there was (seemingly) no effort to fix any of the problems.

Instead of explaining clearly what Live is and how it works and making it inherently less intrusive, Tumblr made excuses about how they had to try to make it profitable and doubled down on making it as annoying as possible with its stupid “snooze” feature.

Every time this stupid porn-bot-looking ad banner popped up on someone’s dash after a week of being lulled into a false sense of security, they hated it a little more.

Tumblr basically hand-crafted a sitewide campaign to yell about how bad this feature is once a week.

How could it have been better?

It’s all well and good to sit here and pass judgement, but was it not just doomed from the start? Could Tumblr really have done any better?

Yes. Absolutely yes.

Here’s how you fix Tumblr Live:

Get rid of the ad-banner-style preview placement.

Instead, mimic what people are doing for their Twitch streams already. Send out a notification on my dashboard when a blog I follow goes live. Respect the rules for normal Tumblr posts when it comes to visibility: let people blaze and reblog them and don’t push them out to people who wouldn’t normally see posts from that blog except according to users’ dashboard preferences.

For persistent notifications (since streams aren’t one-and-done like posts), put a list of blogs I follow that are currently live in the sidebar.

Because these features are no longer intrusive, you no longer need an option in the settings to toggle them off, and people who initially wrote off Live can explore it if it ever becomes valuable to them instead of making it disappear forever.

Get the stream previews off users' screens as soon as humanly possible.

Tumblr has a porn bot problem. Because people's (especially women's and especially cam girls') pictures get scraped for porn bot avatars, Tumblr users are gonna associate pictures of real live non-celebrity people (especially women) with internet scams. Forget this "keep it clean" shit -- whether it looks "clean" matters less than whether it looks like someone wants to steal my credit card information. (And on the other side of that, please understand that sex worker positivity doesn't help sex workers if a feature they use gets shut down because your average Tumblr user thinks it looks so sketchy that they won't touch it with a ten-foot pole.)

Replace the stream preview with the streamer's avatar and the stream title and/or a streamer-selected cover image.

Get help from actual streamers.

Go find Tumblr users who regularly make posts announcing Twitch streams and introduce them to Tumblr Live. For people who already use Tumblr, already stream stuff, and already use Tumblr to tell their audience that they're streaming, having a streaming platform attached to Tumblr could be a real convenience. If you have premium streaming features, find some popular streamers who use Tumblr and give them free access to those features for a while. Even better, maybe ask them for feedback on those features.

Most importantly, get people who stream a variety of different things. Even if Tumblr users don't hate Tumblr Live, if they're under the impression that it's only for one thing and that one thing is something they're not into, they're never gonna use it.

...That's it, that's all I've got. I know this post is a monster, but if anyone reads it: thanks. Good luck in to all in this new era of Tumblr.

[shadowofthehost]

//I spent the last few days thinking on it and decided it's actually better for me to not interact with Alastor at all with Astor. I want to be able to use my own that I had planned on making at the beginning and never got the chance to due to everything that started this blog. I already had to rework Astor because I needed to get rid of all of that multiple alt mess and I really don't want to have to worry about making Alastor posts for my Alastor and having the other Alastors think it's about them when it isn't.

I don't know how people can have multiple of the same character interact in the same verse without becoming severely overwhelmed but all the power to you guys lol I learned the hard way that I am incapable of such things because I still haven't recovered fully from that.

Anyway, I'll be updating the rules page just to make sure it isn't missed. I just can't find the energy to interact with him and I don't want to waste energy on Alastor that I could be putting towards other things.

[breaniebree]

Hi.

I am so fucking sorry if this is weird.

But I stumbled across ASC in one of my old SD cards and couldn’t resist seeing if you’d actually managed to finish that giant story - and apparently you did. Kudos to you.

When I first read ASC I was in a seriously (Siriusly, because that joke is obligatory at this point) bad place. COVID was still in its early stages, I was newly thirteen and had no idea who I was, my anxiety had reached a new high and my OCD ruled my life. I was literally scared to get out of bed and half the time I wouldn’t. I sanitized everything on sight and then some, and it still wasn’t enough to get rid of the crawling feeling inside me. I can now admit that I was depressed. And on top of that I was going through an identity/gender crisis and questioning my sexuality for the first time in my life, hating myself while at it - being an ally is one thing, but being an actual member of the LGBTQ+ community is quite another, especially when you live in an country where being gay isn’t even an option and your mother is homophobic af. Basically I was majorly fucked up.

ASC wasn’t some huge life-changing thing. It was just a random fanfic I found while scrolling through HP tags. I was intrigued, mostly, at this monster of a fic that was over two hundred chapters long, and since I was looking for free books at the time, I gave it a try. Finished the first thirty or so chapters in one sitting. And, once I got over my shock at the sex scenes (I’d never even been on a date and honestly my sexual awakening was partially triggered by this - I was like, ‘If the fact that these people shagged for hours straight, and my only concern is how possible it is to manage that position for any length of time, then I’m probably going to have to sit myself down for a soul-search’) and violent scenes (your mind is a terrifying place and I am sincerely thankful you aren’t planning world domination just yet) I was hooked.

I did comment every now and then, under varying pseudonyms - SavvySpirit was one, obviously. WarrioroftheWolves was another (thirteen-year-old me was obsessed with large predators, mainly since they were everything I wasn’t) and Raindrops & Flowers is quite possibly my least original name ever. There were a few other one-time names I can’t recall. But it was a brief respite in the craziness of ’20 and most of all it was something that was mine - to hold close to my heart, to hate when plot lines threw me for a loop, to cry over and giggle over and laugh over. I printed out the entire thing using my pocket money, in minuscule script and fitting eight pages per sheet, both sides. I think I reread that story at least twice a month - entire thing, back to back as I waited for the next time my parents would let me use the computer for longer than three minutes. I got attached to characters I barely gave second glances to. Viktor. Pansy. Dean. Padma. Mandy. Theo. Him especially, since I relate so much to him it almost hurts to see him hurt.

I stuck with ASC until around the time when Finn died and Ginny was put under bloodlust. I don’t remember exactly why I stopped checking for updates - maybe it was just a lack of time, maybe it was my refilling schedule coupled with my fear of humans. Maybe it was something deeper, who knows. But I stopped at one point and just reread (imo) the best bits every now and then.

I guess, story-wise, things got a little too real too fast for me. I’d known Cedric and Sirius was going to die, and Viktor’s death wasn’t as much of a shock as Finn’s was - because it was so unexpected and so out of the blue (I cried and screamed and cursed your name for thirty minutes straight after that last mo grá. Seriously, Breanie? You just had to go and ruin things just when they were getting good? I was looking forward to seeing Finn’s POV, and seeing them mature and fight over everything from Finn’s overprotectiveness coupled with Theo’s independence to shopping problems and flavours of ice cream, to see them go through troubles and overcome them both individually and as a couple. I was so freaking excited to see more of Tara and your take on a fairy realm, to see how Finn’s pseudo-immortality and Theo’s past demons would come into play. I wanted so much more development on Finn’s character, his flaws and quirks, his skeletons in the closet since we’d never really had his POV. I even had hopes of a storyline where Voldemort tries to get into Tara(because of the so-called immortality, duh) and gets horribly burned in the process. I wanted a Feo love child, dammit(Ciara would be such a cool aunt! And with the Weasleys and Blaise/Draco on one side of the family and Tiernan and the royal court on the other than kid would be the best protected, most spoilt kid in existence). I had hopes, Breanie. Dreams. And you destroyed them all with that single scene.) and so. Fucking. Tragic. And like ten chapters later you put Ginny under bloodlust where she hates Harry and wants to kill him (this was a seriously fucked up idea and I applaud your imagination. And sincerely hope you never become a investigator, because that would be scary.) and I read this bit with my heart in my throat because even if I don’t really like book or movie Hinny(Ginny seems too much of a side character and has so little personality, as I’m sure you know) but I adore fandom Hinny and YOU ARE NOT GOING TO RUIN YET ANOTHER OF MY FAVOURITE SHIPS IN THIS FIC DAMMIT but I chickened out and never read past that to see if she got cured. She did, right? She’s not dying slowly from poison in her bloodstream or anything? Right? Don’t correct me if I’m wrong though, I prefer to remain oblivious and happy in a world where nobody dies and everybody gets therapy.

But anyway, the point of me spilling my life story to you here was to thank you. You may not have intentionally made this fic for me, but it was a lot more effective than most of my therapy sessions since I could get my thoughts and feelings out in a roundabout way. ASC may not be a major part of my life currently, but it’s still a large part of who I am, and I am indebted to you for making this safe space. I turned fifteen and came out as panromantic/asexual. I turned sixteen and came out as a demigirl. I have career aspirations and I’m actually working on them. I’m working on long-term plans, which I never could’ve imagined having three years ago. And though I lost hearing in one ear last month, I didn’t consider ending things, not even once. Still haven’t. I have midterms but I’m not stressing myself to the max over them, and I actually have a social life now. And it’s not all completely thanks to you, but there is still a large part of my sanity that owes itself entirely to the fanfiction writers of 2020. And a slice of that pie is yours. So - thank you. For everything. You’re a truly gifted writer.

And before I forget - does Theo like, ever get closure? Hypothetically the fae have realm glasses. Which might come into use. Can fae get reborn? Just asking.

And does Zee ever date again? Like - I know Sirius was her person, but when the kids get older and she grows older…

One more question: how does someone like Delta turn out to be evil?! She was so freaking supportive when Hermione was researching human rights. Another question: Blaise survives, right? Because that guy is a riot. And another: I reread chapters 200-272 for this and realized that Finn just randomly carries around a pair of golden handcuffs? Like what was the story behind that. Did he get cornered one day and decide that ‘henceforth, I shall carry handcuffs’? And Crouch’s ‘wives’…do Millie and Hestia ever escape? My last random question: whatever happened to Arnold the Pygmy Puff?

Also is there any way I can send you a virtual fruit basket?

Hi, @savvyspirit

Wow! Thank you very much for sharing so much for me. I'm honoured my story had such a profound impact on you personally. Good for you for being honest and open with yourself about who you are. Nothing is more important. Thank you so much for sharing that my story helped you in a roundabout way. That's very cool to hear.

I understand that the story took a darker turn and did get too real too fast, but I do hope you go back to it now that it's complete and now that I'm finishing up the trilogy. Harry and Ginny are definitely getting their happy ending, that I can promise.

Finn was an important part of Theo's life and an important part of the story, but unfortunately he wasn't who Theo was meant to spend his life with. That's someone else and if you keep reading, I promise you'll see him much happier than he ever was with Finn. Yes, he does get closure. As to Zee, well... yes, she does find love (you have to keep reading to find out). Delta aka Belladonna was a lot of fun to have be evil the whole time and you learn more about her how and why as the story goes on. Blaise does survive and we get to know more about him too. Finn carried around handcuffs because he was part of the Royal Guard of Tara. Millie and Hestia do survive. Arnold is still around, promise.

Ha, as to a virtual fruit basket -- I'll take those in story reviews on Ao3 or ff.net please and thanks.

Thank you very much for sharing this with me and I sincerely hope you delve back into the world of ASC because I really do think it's worth it. Thank you!