#it's classified only because I'm not sure if I'm actually going to even write it

[kneelingshadowsalome]

What are you planning to write now that you had finished the Roman Konig Fanfic?

Roman konig was a shot through the heart for me because I love Konig and I love history, mainly Roman history, so seeing that you even had made Konig not Roman, but a northern barbarian royal made me love him even more, and it was such a plot twist, I also loved how you had portrayed the roman soldiers and their daily life, this is definitely one of my most favourite and memorable fanfics, bringing the two things I love together 🥹🥹

Oh I’m so happy that you liked it 🥰 It was a bit funny to write a Roman Empire AU with two mcs that are *not* Roman… But it was so much fun and I knew that would have to be the plot or else it would've bugged me for the rest of my life

As for what I’m writing next...

Something super deranged, I'm sorry

[topazadine]

Writing Research Notes: Horses

I have complained before about fantasy writers (and others) using horses without really knowing anything about them, so I'd like to share some basic Horse Facts. These aren't things about horse physiology, because you probably don't need that for your specific story, but things that you can add into your story for verisimilitude.

I'm not a horse trainer or Horse Expert, just someone who loves horses and rides on a regular basis. This is a casual guide to help give you some inspiration (and know what to look up for more information.)

So, what will we discuss in this embarrassingly long post? This.

General horse knowledge

Approaching and sanitizing Horse

Tack, the Horse Accessory Kit

Putting the tack on Horse

Getting on Horse (second best part!)

Riding Horse (best part!)

Being nice to Horse (most important!!)

General Horse Knowledge

Horses are generally classified as hotblood, warmblood or coldblood.

Of course, being mammals, they are all actually warm-blooded. This is more about temperament and size.

Hotblooded horses are lighter, bred for speed and maneuverability. Thoroughbreds and Arabian horses are hotbloods. They're known for being a bit more temperamental, but they are also very fast and responsive.

Coldblood horses are larger, stockier, and more even-tempered. This includes draft horses like Percherons, Gypsy Vanners, and Clydesdales.

Note that a big horse doesn't necessarily mean they're a good war horse, because war horses need to be fast and light. Draft horses are meant to pull, not carry. In a military series, you can use them as cannon horses or cart horses.

Warmblood are crossbreeds of hotblood and coldblood, giving them a good temperament but also relatively good speed. They're often used for hunting, dressage, and showjumping: disciplines that require both maneuverability and a strong working relationship between horse and rider. Quarter Horses, Tennessee Walking Horses, and Irish Sport Horses are warmbloods.

Horses are herd animals and need friends.

Having a singular horse all by themselves is going to cause them distress and lead to mental problems. This is why people who only own one horse often stable them so that they can get social stimulation and professional care.

Like humans, horses have buddies, acquaintances, and enemies.

There is often a pecking order in a herd, with a leader and followers. Horses may make friends, break up with them, reconcile, etc, just like people do.

And horses, of course, have people they like more than others. To get a horse to like you, be gentle and mindful of their boundaries, pay attention to their feelings, groom them, and speak in a soft friendly voice.

Horses aren't mindless animals: they think, feel, and strategize.

They're actually very sensitive and empathetic animals who can get jealous, have their feelings hurt, or need a little bit of TLC on a hard day. And yes, they can scheme.

Similar to dogs, horses are a bit like toddlers: they need firm but compassionate guidance.

This is why you need to think both for yourself and the horse when riding, keeping your mind clear and focused on your goals. Horses can notice when you're not paying attention and they will do their own thing.

Therapy horses are chosen for both their good nature and their sensitivity to human emotions. They will notice when the rider is getting upset or losing focus, and they will stop what they are doing until the rider is back in the right mindset.

They should get as much outside time as possible.

Horses will come to accept and even like their stalls because it's a safe, quiet space for them, but they should be allowed free time outside as much as possible.

It's important to make sure that their pasture is clean, free of dangerous plants or pesticides, and safe from tripping hazards (horse legs are very delicate).

Make sure they are not gorging themselves on grass, though, as this can cause colic. Horses cannot throw up: they've got a one-way digestive system. Intestinal blockages are a medical emergency.

Horses do like working with nice humans.

This isn't cope, I promise. Just like dogs, they have been bred over thousands of years to look to humans for guidance and to see us as caretakers.

Horses who are treated well like having a job, just like dogs who are treated well will like training sessions. Jobs offer them mental stimulation, offer them praise and rewards, and keep them busy so they're not bored.

You can see this in happy horses. The therapy horse I use, Truly, used to be a jumper and hunter before she came to the therapeutic stable, and she gets really excited if she sees vaults because she loves doing that! She gears up for the trot; you can feel it in her stride. She's ready and wants to go.

But, this implies that you're treating your horses well, praising them regularly, and bonding with them outside of sessions.

Horses that are being mistreated will balk at work because they associate it with pain and fear. Horses that are treated well will happily come out of their stall, ears forward and eyes bright, because they associate work with fun and stimulation.

Approaching and Sanitizing Horse

Horses have a blind spot in front of them and directly behind them.

Unlike humans, their eyes are on the sides of their head because they are prey animals. This means approaching a horse directly from the front or directly behind them may make them spook - and, if you are by their butt, kick you.

Generally, younger riders are taught never to pass behind a horse for safety reasons, so you go around them in a wide circle or duck under their neck. You can also walk behind them if you are out of kicking distance (about 3-4 feet) or right up against them so they can't get their leg up to kick you.

When tacking up or grooming, you should keep a hand on the horse as you move.

This lets the horse know where you are if you are in their blind spot and is especially important if you are around their butt so they don't spook and wonder where you went.

With grooming, you go with the curry comb and hold the bristle brush where you intend to go next so they know what to expect.

Grooming improves circulation and is a good bonding activity.

You use a curry comb, which is a rubber comb with little nubs, and then a brush. The curry comb is moved around in a circular motion to lift dirt and shedding hair, then the brush is angled with the grain of the hair to sweep it away.

Don't use a curry comb on a horse's face, legs, or stomach, which are sensitive areas. If you do want to use a curry comb in these areas because they are super dirty, be VERY gentle and light.

Horses generally like to be groomed because they do this to each other in the wild. It's a good way to make a horse like you.

Picking a horse's hooves, and having regular farrier checks, are crucial for their health.

Like human fingernails, horse hooves grow continuously; they're made from the same material as our hair and nails, keratin. They have a V-shaped "frog" in the middle of the underside of their hoof that is sensitive, but the rest of it isn't very sensitive unless you, like, stab it.

Farriers will file down a horse's feet so they are even, and they will also apply horseshoes if necessary (not all horses wear shoes). You can't just put any old horseshoe on a horse: it has to be fitted to their particular foot. This is a specialized job that not everyone can do, so if your character is not a farrier, they're not going to apply horseshoes themselves.

Cleaning a horse's hoof involves a hoof pick.

When picking a horse's hooves, you take an angled piece of metal called a hoof pick and dig out any dirt or manure or whatever has gotten stuck around the frog, then brush it out with a small brush. If they wear horseshoes, you also need to make sure you get the crevices underneath the shoe.

Generally, we pick feet both before and after riding.

Horses need to be trained to give you their leg. This usually means leaning your body weight into their shoulder, sliding your hand down their leg, and squeezing at the soft indent right above the hoof. You might also need to say "pick it up" or whatever command they've been taught to use.

It's a little scary for a horse to be off-balance like that; how would you feel if someone made you stand on one leg while they clipped your toenails? Be mindful that they may get nervous or put their foot down before you're ready. If this happens, just try again until their feet are clean.

Keep your feet and hands out of the way of the horse's hoof!

Pay attention to where your feet are in conjunction with the horse's hoof so they don't slam their hoof down on your toes. Horses may not even realize they stepped on you because they don't have a lot of sensitivity down there.

Never curl your fingers around the horse's hoof; that's a surefire way to break your hand. Hold it like you're cradling a baby's head.

Do not wear steel-toed shoes in a stable.

It's a common misconception that you should wear work boots or steel-toed shoes; after all, big horse very strong very heavy smash on foot!

Yeah, but a furry hydraulic press will crunch that steel right into your damn foot, and then you have guillotined all your toes.

Wear special riding boots instead. These don't have the ridges that hiking shoes or tennis shoes have, so they won't get caught on the stirrup. Cheap short ones cost like $40 and will last you a few good years. No need to go whole-hog on the long dressage boots if you're a casual rider.

Horses are usually taught to be groomed, tacked up, and mounted from one side.

This may not apply to therapy horses, who are trained to accept whatever way is easiest for the rider.

For dressage horses, they are taught to be groomed, tacked up, and mounted from the left. You should stand on the horse's left side when leading them. You'll dismount from the right.

Tack: The Stuff That Goes on Horse

No matter your discipline, you'll have these general things:

Halter. This is for leading the horse around before you tack them up. Generally, you will tie up the horse to cross-ties while you're grooming and tacking them. It is removed right before you put on the bridle.

Saddle blanket/pad. Western uses saddle blankets, but with English, you'll use a pad. Sometimes, with older horses or those that need a bit more comfort, you will have a blanket and a pad. This goes on before the saddle.

Saddle. Western saddles are very big, made for riding long distances. They are made mostly of leather, including the stirrups, which are attached directly to the saddle. English saddles are much smaller and lighter, and they have more removable parts. I won't get into all the specifics of them because it's probably irrelevant to your story.

There are also more specialized saddles, like jockey saddles.

Girth. Old-school Western saddles have cinches that you tie with the same knot you use for a necktie, but modern ones that detachable girths just like English saddles. They have buckles on both sides. One side will have leather straps; this is the one you put on first, from the left. The other side has elastic so it's a bit stretchier. This goes on the right side.

Bridle. How you control horse. Goes over the face and you hold onto the reins. This is put on last, right after you remove the halter. Put the reins over the horse's neck so you have something to hold onto after you remove the halter!

Bit. This is a metal bar that goes in the horse's mouth, over the tongue. Snaffle bits are the most common; they are made of two parts that meet in the middle. They aren't as uncomfortable for horses as other types. Some people are moving away from bits entirely and using bitless bridles.

Putting Tack on Horse

English stirrups are "run up" when tacking up and leading a horse.

The metal stirrups can bang against things and hurt the horse if they are not pulled up against the saddle by running them up the leather strap they hung from. You'll then tuck the excess strap into the stirrup to hold them in place.

Stirrups can be adjusted with a buckle hidden under the saddle seat. You'll run them up, pull the buckle down to a comfortable height, and then adjust as necessary. Then pull the stirrup down to the bottom, put your hand against the seat, and lift the stirrup up to run along your arm. It should brush against your armpit for most people.

Most dressage stirrups have numbered holes so you can remember what your height is.

Western saddles have leather stirrups that may or may not be detachable or adjustable.

Never tie a horse's reins to anything.

Don't listen to old Western movies that show this. If the horse spooks and they are tied up, they could rip the bit out of their mouth and really hurt themselves.

Horses have bars in their mouth - a blank space with no teeth. This is where the bit sits.

To get a horse to accept a bit, you can stick your thumb into this blank spot to make them open their mouth, just as you can do with dogs.

You then pull the bit up over their front teeth and settle it in there so it's comfortable.

There should be a small bit of pull you can see from the wrinkles around their mouth, but it shouldn't be squeezing them to death. Gentle pressure, happy horse.

Tighten the girth (the strap around their tummy) right before you get on.

Horses like to "bloat," meaning they suck in a bunch of air when you're putting the girth on, then relax so that the girth is loose. You don't want this, because then you can slide off. So put it on loosely at first, then put it up a few slots once you're about to get on.

Don't rachet it up to the highest possible setting you can reach, and don't yank on it, because this hurts the horse. Gently pull it up until it's tight enough to hold on, but not so much that it becomes a corset. You should be able to slide three fingers between the girth and the horse's stomach.

Getting On Horse

Lead the horse to where you want to go by bringing the reins over their head and holding them under the chin.

Do not use a death grip! You don't need to. Loose and happy. Keep the excess in your other hand so it's not a tripping hazard.

Then, of course, put the reins back over their head when you're ready to get on.

Mounting blocks are convenient and safer for the horse.

These are kind of like step stools, and they get you closer to the horse's back. Mounting from the ground puts a lot of pressure on the horse's back and should only be used sparingly.

The procedure is like so for English:

Gather the reins in your left hand, which should be placed near the front of the saddle.

Put your right hand near the back of the saddle for balance.

Put your left foot in the stirrup.

Swing your right leg over.

Settle your right foot in the stirrup.

Don't jump up; you might fall the hell over, lmao. Gentle easy swing.

The stirrup sits on the ball of your feet, with the heel pointing down.

This is true for both Western and dressage. You want it on the balls of your feet so you have leverage and can pivot your ankle to lightly tap the horse on the side, and you want your heel down to help maintain your balance.

A lot of riding boots, including cowboy boots, will have stitching that runs across the top of the foot. You can align this with the stirrup so you know that you don't have your foot too far back in the stirrup.

Your leg is slightly bent when in the saddle.

You do not have your legs straight out, because then you don't have leverage and can't maintain balance.

My instructor says it should feel like you're kneeling, and then when you post (rise out of the saddle during the trot or canter), you should feel like you're coming out of a squat. You're not springing all the way out of the saddle and standing up, because then you will fall over.

Your leg should stay as still as possible, with your heels pointing down to the ground. You shouldn't move them up or forward when you're trotting, a common beginner mistake.

When training in a ring, you don't have a right leg and left leg: you have an "outside" leg and "inside" leg.

Outside leg is the one closest to the wall (or fence), and inside leg is the leg closest to the middle of the ring. This keeps you from getting confused when you change directions.

Horses also have an outside leg and inside leg that you use to determine when to post or perform other maneuvers.

Horses need to be trained to go both clockwise and counterclockwise.

This helps them maintain balanced muscle tone on both sides of the body; otherwise, it's like doing leg exercises with only one leg. When getting a lesson, your instructor will ask you to change directions once you've done a certain exercise so that you can try it the other way, too.

Actually Riding Horse

You shouldn't yank on the reins like you're in a tug-of-war.

This can really hurt the horse and, paradoxically, make them more disobedient. It's like someone put their fingers in your mouth and then stretched your lips as far back as possible.

Keep your body loose.

Your horse is listening to your body language and will feel when you're tense. Every little movement means something to the horse. If you're tight, they think they should be nervous too.

Stay calm, upright, and loose. Legs slightly bent, elbows flexible, hands in line with the sides of the horse's neck and a bit above the front of the saddle.

Squeezing or tapping the horse is called impulsion.

It should be used lightly and with just enough pressure to get their attention. Don't kick the horse with all your might. The more movement you need from the horse, the more intense your impulsion will be.

Don't squeeze with your knees.

Pressure on the horse comes from the thighs and calves, not the knees. Your knees are there to bend.

Yes, your inner thighs will be super duper sore when you're done. It gets better though, prommie.

In dressage, you post at the trot in rhythm with the horse.

This reduces pressure on their back so you're not banging on their spine with each hootbeat. You post when their outside shoulder comes forward and lightly land back in the saddle when their inside shoulder rises: not sitting all the way down, just crouching a bit lower.

When you want the horse to walk again, you will sit down and pull (gently!!) back on the reins. The added pressure makes them not want to trot anymore because it would hurt them when you bump around on their back.

Being Nice to Horse (so Horse Is Nice to You)

Respect a horse's personal space and power.

They are big strong animals that can break your spine if they buck you, or crush your foot, or give you brain damage if they kick you in the head. Healthy respect (not fear) is crucial.

If a horse is pissed off, leave them alone. If they're scared, treat them kindly and speak soothingly. If they're not doing what you want, find a way to redirect them instead of screaming at them and making them more anxious.

And remember that they are prey animals despite their size and power! They may get nervous about things that you wouldn't even consider. Truly, the horse I ride on the regular, gets freaked out by jackets hanging over fence posts and barking dogs.

That's okay and natural; I just have to reassure her that she's going to be alright. You are the leader and caretaker of the horse, making them feel confident.

Training tools like whips, crops, or spurs should be used sparingly.

Any trainer who tells a beginner to use spurs as soon as possible is an asshole who doesn't actually know how to train horses. They don't know how to teach riders to control their body pressure, so they go right to the aversives.

I left a stable because the trainer demanded I buy spurs after like two lessons; my current stable doesn't use these at all, ever.

You should be able to control the horse with your hands and feet without these tools before adding them, and they should always be used as gently as possible: a slight tap with the spurs or crop, not beating the horse with a crop or digging your spurs into their sides. Horses are very sensitive animals and will respond well to a light kick with your heels if they are properly trained.

I've developed such a good rapport with the therapy horse I use (and she's such a good girl) that she can tell when I want to her trot. I start working her up to her "party walk" as my instructor calls it, and then click my tongue, and she's off. No kicking necessary.

Reward, Don't Punish

Same as when training dogs. Don't yell at them and say "no!! bad horse!!" Instead, offer a small correction, like checking the reins, or redirect them.

Do not hit or kick horses when they don't do what you want. They are trained that tap means go; you're going to make them gallop instead of stop.

Give them a pat on the neck and say "good horse!" when they do a good job. You can also talk to the horse while you're grooming and riding, offering them compliments and assurance.

Again, horses look to riders as leaders. They want to know the're performing correctly; if you've built up a good relationship, they want to make you happy and perform well.

Most of the time, horses are not trying to make you mad. You're just miscommunicating with them and need to figure out how to make your commands clearer.

Abusive training tactics are counterintuitive in the long run.

This makes for a nervous, flighty, disobedient, and anxious horse who may become dangerous. They're 1,200 pound animals, and if they don't like what you're doing, they will kick, buck, or bite.

Kicking, hitting, excessive use of spurs or crops, and screaming at horses doesn't make your horse respect you: it makes them fear you. You want your horse to be excited to work with you, to look forward to your training sessions, and to have fun.

I've created a masterlist of writing resources that you can peruse at your leisure, all for free.

The posts I write can sometimes take me hours - they're always intricate, always thoughtful. This one took me about three hours to complete.

I do this as a labor of love for the writing community, sharing what I have learned from almost 15 years of creative writing.

However, if you'd like to support me, maybe you'll consider buying my book for $1.99?

9 Years Yearning is a gay coming-of-age romance set in a fantasy world. It follows Uileac Korviridi, a young soldier training at the War Academy. His primary motivations are honoring the memory of his late parents, protecting his little sister Cerie, and becoming a top-notch soldier.

However, there's a problem: Orrinir Relickim, a rough and tough fellow pupil who just can't seem to leave Uileac alone.

The book features poetry, descriptions of a beautiful country inspired by Mongolia, and a whole lot of tsundere vibes.

Oh, and horse!!! Horse love!! SO MUCH HORSE LOVE.

You can also check it out on Goodreads for a list of expanded distribution.

If you do purchase my book, don't forget to leave a review!

Reviews are vital for visibility on Amazon and help to support indie authors like me. Whenever you love a book, be sure to let the author know! It's much appreciated.

[thesillestluxeandcastiel]

Star-Sweet

request: oh my goodness, I've had this idea locked in my noggin for like, forever but I haven't had enough confidence to actually request it, can you write a Jax x Reader where they go out and look at the stars? Obviously, they aren't real stars, but maybe Jax had asked Caine for a favor or something.. I don't know, just WRITE I'M NOT GOOD WITH IDEAS PLEASE

Warnings: uhh cute dates and Jax being jax??

A/n: I'm so glad you could build up confidence to request to me! Don't be shy, I don't bite unless im asked to! (/j) in all seriousness though, the worst that'll happen is I classify it as heavy NSFW or I just... Don't do it for other reasons. Feel absolutely free to request almost anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jax, I swear to God if I end up breaking my nose or something because of you." You glared through the blindfold, obviously he couldn't see that but he could get an idea. He chuckled, "Wellllll, now that you mention it.." He playfully pushed you forward, almost making you trip on a rock. You gasped and smacked the air, attempting to hit him, which obviously was not working as you were just flailing your arms around. This made Jax actually laugh, and you pouted. "Are we almost there?!" You yelled out at him. He shrugged. You sighed, but then smiled. 'This is gonna be fun.' You thought sarcastically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Taaa daaa!" He smiled, taking the blindfold off and sitting down on the grass, tapping the spot next to him with a cheesy grin on his face. You smiled adoringly, the stars were so pretty. You gasped and sat down next to him slowly, just staring. (At the stars, not him..) "Jax, how did you.." You started, before he cut you off. "I may or may not have pulled a favor with Caine to get allowed outside tonight, but totally worth it." He smiled, looking at you. You grinned. "They're so pretty Jax, I don't even-" "not as pretty as you!" "Oh my god, do NOT use that cheesy [BLEEP]s line on me right now." You groaned, holding up a hand to his face and playfully pushing it back. He smiled a big ol grin, and booped your nose.

You stared at him for a hot minute with a 'seriously?' Look before jumping up and bopping his 'nose' full force. He gasped, and then glared at you.

"Oh it is ON, come here-" he yelled, chasing after you whilst laughing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both laughed as you toppled over onto each other in the grass, rolling down the hill fast but softly too. You grabbed Jax's shoulder for support, as you buried your face into his shoulder to suppress your laughter. This only made himself laugh harder though, causing you to still laugh as well.

Slowly, you two came to a stop on the hill, tangled in eachother's arms. You smiled up at him as you blinked, it was getting increasingly harder to keep your eyes open. You sighed, closing your eyes fully and snuggling into the giant teddy bear that was Jax. He froze for a minute, untill wrapping his arms around your waist as you drifted off. He smiled, (if you have bangs, read this part, if not, don't, ignore it) brushing your bangs onto the side of your head, he placed a tiny peck onto your forehead, watching the rise and fall of your chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jax walked back into the tent with your sleeping form, he peaked over the walls with his head, making sure nobody was around. After he was sure, he walked into the main room still holding onto you. Caine appeared next to him suddenly, seemingly about to say something, but Jax put one finger to his mouth - or rather teeth. Caine got the hint, and nodded. He then looked between you and Jax. Jax rolled his eyes and nodded. Caine held up his fist, and Jax (against his will) hit his larger fist onto Caine's smaller one. And Caine was gone.

'Alrighty, now to get Sleeping Beauty off their Star-Sweet high and into bed.' He thought, walking faster towards the resting Corridors.(?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PJEWWW, MY FINGERS HURT. *sobs*

[vodika-vibes]

I just read your One More Moment Cody x reader fic and I absolutely ADORED IT and am here to request something similar with Fox x Fem reader please, and can the reader be a mermaid with a shark tail? You can add whatever details you think would work, but Fox is definitely quite intrested considering he's kind of an outcast in Atlantis, and reader is classified as an outcast too?

Thank you! And I absolutely adore your writing 🥰

Born This Way

Summary: Atlantian Prince, and Military Commander, Fox is an outcast among his people and his brothers. Oh, sure, people respect him. But his closest friend also happens to be his twin brother. At least, that’s the case until he’s kidnapped.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 1783

Warnings: Mentions of slavery, implications of torture

A/N: So, I'm not sure if this is what you were wanting, but I had an idea and it seemed like a good one. I hope you like it!

Click HERE to be added to my taglist!

The room he’s been locked in is dark, the only light coming from the bioluminescent stones being used as lanterns down the hall. It’s almost too dark to see, even with his eyes.

Of course, it’s not so much a room as it is a cell. 

An actual cell, with bars. Rather than the more modern cells used in Atlantis that offer the people in the cell some privacy.

Fox rubs the side of his head and tries to remember how he ended up in this situation. He can feel his heartbeat in his skull though, so he’s pretty sure that he was hit over the head by someone.

What does he remember?

He was at home, he remembers that much. He had just been eliminated as a viable option for the throne after punching an arrogant Atlantean and planned to retreat to his room to hide from his brothers who were going to rage at him for having the nerve to remove himself from the running. And then…nothing.

Fox isn’t even sure he made it to his room. 

His brow furrows as he tries to force the memory to clear. He left the greeting chamber, walked through the portrait hallway, and clearly remembers opening the door to the sleeping wing. 

But after that, everything is murky. His next clear memory is waking up in this cell.

Fox huffs and kicks the cell door.

He knows that he’s no longer in Atlantis. The fact that he’s surrounded by water makes it kind of obvious. But Atlantis is a rather small city, comparatively speaking. Knowing that he’s not in Atlantis isn’t helpful in the grand scheme of things.

He kicks the bars again in frustration. 

“That is enough of that, your highness.” Fox moves away from the cell door as a door at the end of the hall opens, pouring light into the darkened hallway. The voice is familiar, and Fox scowls when he sees who stops in front of his cell.

Sheev Palpatine is an Atlantean, like him, and had been a judge for years before he was banished from Atlantis for planning the murder of King Jango. The only reason that Jango didn’t kill him was because of political pressure from the Jedi Monks.

Fox kind of wishes his father had ignored the Jedi if he’s being totally honest.

“Palpatine.” The amount of contempt dripping from Fox’s voice would have made a lesser man flinch away. But Palpatine has never seen the vod’e as actual people.

“Prince Fox,” His smile is almost slimy, “You honor me with your presence.”

“As if I had a choice.”

“True enough. I am fortunate that there are still people in Atlantis who hold me in high enough regard to help me.” Palpatine holds his hands out, “You’re probably wondering why you’re here.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Fox bites out sarcastically.

“I find myself in need of capable soldiers—”

“If you think that I’m going to help you, then you’ve lost the god-damn plot.” 

Palpatine pauses, “Then you will remain in your cell until you change your mind. I will return in a week.” He turns and pulls something out of his pocket. It almost looks like a bell.

He rings it and a moment later a mermaid swims into the hall. She’s a shark-based Mermaid, Fox realizes almost immediately. Her kind hasn’t been seen around Atlantis since before his Grandfather’s time.

He moves closer to the bars to get a better look at her. She’s tiny, though his memory helpfully supplies that there are over 500 different variations of sharks, so she’s probably a mer-variant of one of the smaller sharks. 

As Fox moves closer, he realizes that she’s covered in ragged-looking scars. All over her arms and tail, all across her torso…and one long scar across her eyes.

She’s blind.

She turns to face him, and Fox watches as her nostrils flare so she’s able to catch his scent. She’d be able to find him anywhere now, he knows absently. 

It’s at that moment that he sees the brand on her left shoulder. A series of numbers and letters, raised on her skin so that even he’s able to read what they say in the dim light.

And his heart sinks.

He knows why no one has seen any of her people in decades.

“She,” Palpatine gestures to her, “will ensure that you are fed and well-cared for while you are a guest. Do not try to run. She’ll catch you.” And then he’s gone, and Fox is left alone with his warden.

“What’s your name?” Fox asks after a moment when he’s sure that Palpatine is gone.

There’s a flicker of uncertainty on her face before she offers her name. “I am afraid that I am unsure as to what Atlanteans eat,” She admits, “If you could tell me—?”

Fox sighs and leans against the bars, this is going to be a long imprisonment.

It’s been several months since he was kidnapped, and Fox is no closer to agreeing to help Palpatine than he was when he was first taken. He’s pretty sure that Palpatine is starting to give up on trying to convince him.

Or, well, he hopes so at least.

The one good thing, the only good thing, is that he’s made a friend. Or, he thinks of her as a friend, she’s a little more hesitant about it.

He doesn’t blame her, in the slightest, though.

Any mistakes on her part are punished with lashes. And she’s often punished for his misbehavior. 

It’s sickening.

It’s unfair.

And he can’t do a damned thing about it.

“You seem quiet today, Fox.” Her voice is raw, and Fox can see she has burn paste coating her tail this morning. An accident, maybe. Though punishment is much more likely. 

“I’m feeling contemplative,” Fox replies as he follows her through the hall to the small, enclosed, garden he’s allowed to spend his time in. “That is still allowed, isn’t it angelfish?”

When she speaks, there’s amusement in her voice, “That is true. Lord Palpatine has yet to make thinking illegal.”

Fox grins, though he knows she won’t see it, and he swims over to settle near some coral.

The coral is almost healthy. Fox finds that totally valid. How could any living creature thrive under Palpatine’s specific brand of bullshit?

He watches her swim around a bit before she settles on the sand on her stomach, resting her chin on the palm of her hands. “Where is the illustrious Lord Palpatine, anyway?” Fox asks.

“I do not know.”

“So he’s not in?”

She shrugs as best as she can while lying on her stomach, “So it would seem. No one has seen him in weeks.”

Fox hums thoughtfully and then moves so that he’s lying on his stomach in front of her. Close enough that his arm bumps hers, and she starts in surprise, having not heard him move. 

“Fox?”

He scans her face silently for a moment, “You know, with Palpatine gone we could just leave.”

Tension shoots through her frame, “Fox, my people will be slaughtered—”

Fox stops her by pressing his hands against her cheeks, and she flinches away from him slightly. He knows that it’s not an intentional reaction, he knows that she knows that he would never hurt her. But some habits are hard to break. 

“I’ve met some of your cousins,” He reminds her, “Some of them are built like buildings.”

“...well, yes.” She agrees, “But the manacles…if we do anything they don’t like they’ll inject the poison—” She frets, “And even if we manage to get them off, where would we go?”

“Atlantis.”

She scoffs, “Atlantis,” She shakes her head, “No offense to you, Fox, but Atlantis looked the other way when my people were enslaved. Why would we ever go there.”

“I know that you and your people have no reason to trust my people,” Fox replies, “I know that you’ve all been suffering under the watch of people like Palpatine for generations.”

“You can’t fix that.”

“I want to try.” His hands move so that one cards through her hair while the other one slowly moves down her arm to grip her hand, “I’m not asking you to trust my people, cyar’ika. I’m asking you to trust me.”

“And then what? What happens if Atlantis won’t accept us?” She asks, “It’s no secret that no one missed us when we left.”

“Then we’ll find someplace new for your people to settle.” He leans in and presses his forehead against hers, “Like it or not, cyar’ika, you and your people are still Atlanteans and are deserving of my service.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and then she sighs, soft and wistful.

“What’s wrong?” 

“I just…I wish I—” She pauses and shakes her head, “No. Nevermind.”

He smiles at her, takes her hands in his, and presses her hands against his cheeks, “It’s hard for you to tell if I’m lying because you can’t see me, isn’t it?”

She frowns, “That’s part of the problem, yes.”

“Then look with your hands,” Fox replies. He pulls his hands away from hers and waits while her hands lightly trace his face. Her hands are remarkably soft for someone who spent her whole life doing manual labor. He’s not too proud to admit that he likes the feel of her hands against him. “Ready?”

She nods.

Fox looks her in the eye, “I promise that I will help free your people and I will help you find a place to settle if you’re not welcome in Atlantis.”

“...you mean that.”

“I do.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and then she slowly pulls her hands away from his face, and Fox has to fight the urge to pull her hands back, “We’ll have to be quick.” She warns.

“I can do quick.”

And then she smiles at him, it’s small and soft, and the only thing that Fox can think when he sees it is, fuck. I’m done for.

“Can you be my eyes until we escape the palace?” She asks.

“Cyar’ika, I’ll be whatever you need me to be.” Fox blurts without thinking about it.

She looks surprised and then a startled laugh falls from her lips. It’s the first time he’s heard her make a sound of genuine joy, and Fox realizes, with a start, that he would destroy entire nations to protect her smile.

Wolffe, he decides as he gets up from the ground, is never going to let me live this down.

And then her lips press against his cheek, and Fox stops thinking about everything that isn’t her soft, warm lips. 

He’s so fucked.

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@Kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

[hoperays-song]

Buster Moon's Total Sing 1 Crime Counter

In a recent rewatch of the Sing movies, I decided to keep a running tab on the amount of crimes that Buster could hypothetically be charged with. And there were... a lot. This list is a lowball estimate in a lot of the numbers provided and I will say that I am not a lawyer, I just looked this all up. So is this perfectly legally sound? No, but then again, neither are these movies. So... have fun!

-----

Failure of payment for employees/Breach of Contract (x4)

At the start of the film, we see that Buster has not paid the stage crew of his latest show by giving them paychecks that bounced and not providing them with compensation after finding this out. We only see four of them, but for all we know, there could be more crew that were out of frame.

Traffic violations (x6)

Okay look, that biking through town scene was cute but bikes are supposed to obey traffic laws and ummm... Buster did not. Man went straight through intersections like he was playing real life Frogger. There were probably more than six to be honest but that's at least the ones we saw.

Loitering 

Now this is grey area, but Buster could, hypothetically, be fined for loitering on private property (ie. in the restaurant) since he was never planning on actually purchasing anything from the business. It would be a hard case, but it, technically, has happened before.

Hiring discrimination 

While I love Johnny, the only reason Buster did not hire Daniel the giraffe for the talent show was because he refused to make accommodations for the boy's height, which could be discrimination based on either a disability or genetic information. I'm not entirely sure which one Daniel's height would classify as in universe which is why I listed both.

Breach of Contract/Fraud (x7)

Due to the prize money being stated in writing and the talent show cast being hired under the understanding that they would have a potential of getting that compensation/it was available to them, it is illegal that he did continue to lie about that when he had no means or real intention to provide it (I know he tries to get the money, but when he hired them, he had no intention of paying any of them $100,000).

Energy Diversion

Stealing electricity from your neighbors is, unsurprisingly, a crime.

Aiding and Abetting the Delinquency of a Minor

This is only due to Meena was technically an accomplice to the energy diversion since Buster got her to help so, technically it could be argued that its aiding and abetting and she does seem to be implied to still be a kid.

Unsafe Working Conditions (x8)

That theatre is falling apart at the seams and the fact someone got hospitalized as a result only goes to further prove the conditions being unsafe. I really need to read up on OSHA because that theatre is probably breaking all the codes.

Negligence

So Pete (everyone remembers him right?) gets absolutely slammed in the face with a sand bag due to a series of events caused by Buster and ends up in hospital. Not only could he be sued for damages, he could get charged with negligence as well for that.

Trespassing (x2)

When building the water stage for the theatre we see Buster on both Les Calmars's (the restaurant's) private property and on another building's roof to access the water tower. Both are trespassing.

Water Theft

This should shock no one but stealing water from a water tower is illegal.

Vandalism

Plastering the ads for the squids on the front of Les Calmars is vandalism technically so that's fun.

Aiding and Abetting the Delinquency of a Minor (x4)

Buster did drag Meena into helping him with all of this meaning, yes, she has now committed five crimes due to him.

Unsafe Working Conditions (x108)

So I am not gonna count all of those squids. I'm not sure the number is even consistent to be completely honest with you. So we're going just go with it being 100 and move on to the fact that water stage was in no way up to code and created really unsafe environments for all his employees.

Negligence (x108)

His employees were not only trapped in a flooded building due to him but were also in a hostage situation. There is no way everyone walked away scratch free so this is here just as a catch all.

Endangerment of a Minor (x2)

Now, I am solely basing this off headcanon but if not just put these as two more tallies in the endangerment category, but Johnny and Meena seem to be around 16-17 years old in this movie. And, you know, he got them trapped in a flooding and collapsing building.

Endangerment (x112)

This is for everyone else, squids included, he got trapped in a flooding and collapsing building.

Public Nudity

The man changes into a speedo on the side of the road. Might be out of frame but still counts.

Public Menace

Look, this is legally described as "using threats or conduct to put someone else in fear of imminent danger"... and I don't know about y'all but the whole watch party felt in fear of imminent danger watching that bloody car wash scene okay?! They are cleaning the cars with their bodies. That's weird.

Trespassing

The destroyed theatre was property of the bank when they went back to it y'all, that is textbook trespassing. Like Judith even points it out later.

Vandalism

And while cleaning up the debris and making the stage was cool and all, not his stuff anymore so it could be charged as vandalism. It might be a hard case due to them technically cleaning up but still could be charged as vandalism. And even if it isn't, the destruction of the property definitely would be. So pick which one you want to count this as.

Loitering 

Remaining on bank property despite knowing he was not allowed to be there is not allowed in a court of law apparently.

Aiding and Abetting the Delinquency of a Minor (x4)

He did encourage both Johnny and Meena to help rebuild the stage, so at the least they would be loitering and trespassing.

Aiding and Abetting (x5)

And this is for the rest of the troupe + Mike which he encouraged to help as well.

Failure to Comply

Another grey area one, but since he was given a verbal warning (that likely had legal backing to it), Buster could technically be hypothetically charged with a Failure to Comply with a court order to stay off the property/leave the property when Judith told him too.

Aiding and Abetting the Delinquency of a Minor (x2)

And the encouraging Meena and Johnny to stay at the show and not just leave (you could argue that was Ash but they are kids and he is their boss so he technically is in charge of them right now).

Aiding and Abetting (x88)

This is a combo one of Aiding and Abetting the adults of the troupe to stay and encouraging the crowd to trespass! He's the host, he is technically the ring leader here, he would get in trouble for it. Also, I'm not counting everyone + there are too many different heights that that count would likely not be accurate so let's just go with 88 and move on.

Final Crime Count for Sing 1: 365 individual crimes!

Buster... why? Just why? One for every day of the year. You did not need to do that.

[droewyn]

RedSpidey plot bunny, free to a good home

Because I'm not confident enough in my BatFam to write them, but this lives in my head rent-free, and I'd love to read it.

Peter Parker / Tim Drake crossover by way of the multiverse.

"Lost objects" soulmate AU. In this AU, anything that you lose winds up in the possession of your soulmate. You can't game the system by throwing things away on purpose; it has to actually be lost.

Six months after the events of No Way Home, Peter Parker is going through the motions. "Peter Parker" himself barely exists anymore; he's faked his own credentials -- not particularly difficult after the Blip -- but those carefully forged ID papers are really all that's left of him. Peter Parker is the nonentity who delivers photos to Jameson. He's the bane of his landlord's existence. The rest of the time, he's Spider-Man.

Peter Three said that he'd eventually stopped pulling his punches. Peter One has stopped ducking them. Oh, he dodges the flung busses, the vaporizing energy rays, and the mutagen grenades. He's not suicidal. Not... not really. He takes the big threats seriously; the city can't afford for him not to. But the street-level thugs and muggers really can't do too much to hurt him, even if they're armed. He'll heal. He always heals. And while they last, those cuts and bruises (and occasional gunshot wounds) remind him that he's real, that he's not just a ghost, haunting New York, possessing his own superhero identity. The pain is a reminder that he's not dead. Which is important. Probably.

He's long since stopped wondering about his soulmate. He still keeps the random objects that he finds, storing them safely in a shoebox under his bed, but it's mostly out of habit. Whoever keeps misplacing the coffeeshop punch-cards, the occasional roll of film, the weird-looking charging cables and bits of disassembled tech, and that one really tacky, bat-shaped throwing star that probably came from the same mall kiosk that sold knockoff Lord of the Rings swords... whoever that person is, they are better off far, far away from Peter. From Spider-Man.

It's been a particularly bad night. He's bruised. He's bloody. He hasn't bothered to look at the camera's memory yet, but he's pretty sure that there won't be anything usable on it. His third eviction notice has been taped to his door, and the contents of his refrigerator should be classified as a bioweapon. He's just. So tired. He barely manages to peel the mask off before flopping into bed, the fabric still clutched between his fingers.

And when he wakes up again, he's in a bedroom larger than his entire apartment, in a bed softer than a cloud (and quite possibly also larger than his entire apartment), and the only thing more astonishing than the thread count of the sheets he's tangled in is the sleeping face of the pretty, black-haired boy roughly his own age, whose nose is eight inches from his own.

Blue eyes blink open, going from sleepy to alert in an instant. The boy's feet kick out, and ow, did they have to connect with the kidney that was still recovering from the stab wound? He finds himself literally booted out of bed, blinking dazedly at a ceiling that doesn't have any water damage at all, and it's only his Peter T... spider sense that gets him to move in time to avoid the staff that slams into the carpet where his head had just been.

Who the hell sleeps with a weapon within reach? A quick thwip, and a practiced jerk of his wrist, and the staff sticks harmlessly to the wall. (It's not a double-standard, okay? Just because he's been sleeping in his costume more often than not lately doesn't make it intentional, just... efficient.)

The black-haired boy also enjoys efficiency. He's firing question after question at Peter, even as he chases him around the room. Who is he working for? What does he want? How did he get inside the bedroom? Something about the main character of Persona 5? Peter's not sure about that one. They're all excellent questions, and ones he'd also like to know the answers to. But he can hear other heartbeats nearby, other voices, running footsteps. He's about to be outnumbered. He also just woke up, hasn't had a chance to pee yet, and his mouth tastes disgusting.

He goes out the window and keeps going, until he gets to a city that definitely isn't New York, and he's managed to lose all of the weirdly competent rich people.

It doesn't take him long to realize that he's in another universe. He's also pretty sure this one isn't his fault; he's stayed as far away from Dr. Strange as he has everyone else from his former life, and he hasn't had any big villains in a while. Not that it really matters; he's back to square one again, only this time, all he has is the suit on his back, a phone that won't connect to anything, and a handful of spare web fluid cartridges tucked into his pocket.

He needs to find a way home. He needs to figure out what happened, and how and why, and fix it. Doesn't he? He doesn't exist here, and okay, he barely existed back home, but that's where he's meant to be. Isn't it? Where every familiar landmark is a bad memory, and "I Believe Mysterio" shirts are commonplace. Where he's just as likely to be cursed at as thanked, and no matter what he does, nothing ever seems to get any better. Not for him, or for anyone else.

He's hungry. He's more alone than he's ever been in his life. He finds a place to squat for the night, and falls into an uneasy sleep.

He wakes up in the black-haired boy's bed again.

[starsurface]

Your writings are very good, they make me happy! Would it be possible to write Shang Tsung from the 3d era taking care of an age regressed reader that uses diapers?

Awh, thank you!!! I'm so glad that they make you happy!! <3

I will admit, i know incredibly little about this character!!!! :D (I tried to do research, but do call me our or dm if I wrote some things wrong, I can totally redo or make a pt 2 or something!!)

Like, . . . I know he’s evil. And has an island. And works for Shao Kahn. And is one of the more first big boss fights?? And that 3d is like, Deception, and Armageddon, and Shaolin Monks (the cutscenes only version of that game is so funny, the storyline is so fast).

And not even zesty evil!!! But like, actually evil. :(

Small Warning (?): It just kinda feels like there are some darker undertones in these?? Not exactly yandere like, but mildly possessive, and little to no hesitation to hurt others for you. It’s not implied that he’d kill, but it is implied that he’d use them as experiments (which I can totally change if anyone gets uncomfortable with!!!)

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

CG 3d era Shang Tsung w/ Regressor That Uses Diaper Hcs

🐛 I know I said he’s evil . . . but I think he adores you

🐛 Your his baby, how could he not love you!! He’s cruel and a villain, but your his Precious, he couldn’t just let you go <3

🐛 While a man of evil and Shao Kahn’s sorcerer, he would never make fun of you for using or needing padding

🐛 Babyspace regressor? You’re very tiny!! Of course you might need some help, and that’s okay!!

🐛 Toddler? Well, accidents happen all the time, and he’d rather be safe than sorry anyways

🐛 Big kid? Well he’d still classify you as a baby, but whatever you say <3

🐛 Middlespace regressor? Everyone can use diapers!! Whether for medicine or comfort, that’s your regression, and no one else’s

🐛 And if anyone were to magically tell you otherwise, well, they strangely disappear!! :O (and maybe end up in Shang Tsung’s lab)

🐛 Might get a bit grumpy if you wake him up at night, but almost any thoughts of anger or upset wash away when he sees how upset you are

🐛 . . . Although he’s also super tired and might put on your padding backwards

🐛 It is literally not his fault, it’s two am, and he has work tomorrow

🐛 Although he’d rather you wake him up than sit sobbing in bed, work or no work, you’re his first priority

🐛 He’ll also get some of those potty mattress protections, just in case you may or may not have an accident again (but only if your cool with it)

🐛 Magic show distractions!!!

🐛 He could give you something to fidget with during the process . . . Or he could use his super cool sorcerer powers and make a little light show to distract you

🐛 From what i’ve seen in almost every Shang Tsung, they have a way with words

🐛 So it’s not him buying your regression supplies, it’s Shao Kahn <3

🐛 Shang Tsung works for him, how could he not also supply for his precious baby that he gets very little time with because of how often he has to work and prepare for the tornoment?

🐛 ^ Lies, Shang Tsung can and will pause any type of working if you regress and come for him

🐛 Maybe unless he’s in the middle of an experiment, but he’s left his studies many times before

🐛 Your not really allowed to talk to Shao Kahn though :\ (Shang Tsung’s worried Shao will be mean or cruel to you in your headspace)

🐛 But you get much time with Dada!! :D

🐛 He’ll make a little regression area in his laboratory!! It’s Shang Tsung’s Island, who would tell him he couldn’t put a secret passage way into a small regression area just for you?

🐛 ^ No one, that’s who, so of course he does it!! (and Shao Kahn gets the bill for it >:3)

🐛 He does make sure to put it more where the potions or his study books are and not where his experiments are (he doesn’t like you seeing them in your headspace)

🐛 Don’t you dare ever try to touch his potions, he will get incredibly upset and you’ll get in trouble

🐛 They’re for big kids and big kids only, plus you could get seriously hurt and Dada might not be able to help you from some of them

🐛 Or you could just regress in Dada’s room, which is much comfier anyways

🐛 If you end up having any type of accidents, he’s very gentle about the process, gently shushing and comforting you, drawing you a nice bath and picking out some comfy clothes

🐛 His clothes to be exact, what could be better?

🐛 If you’re ever embarrassed about using padding, he’d call you silly

🐛 There’s no reason too!! Whether for comfort, or medical, or just because, if it works for you, then he’s more than happy to help with the process

🐛 Your his baby after all, and he’s going to make sure you have the world <3

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

I like the Caterpillar emoji, it's cute. :3 (also they didn't have any potions :\)

[aceofsweets]

๋࣭⭑ ⭐˖ yeah... give me a moment...

٠࣪⭑ notes ; so, i'm back!! yippee!!! but only because i'm three weeks away from school ending and i just wanted to write silly oc lore for yowa!! ٠࣪⭑ content ; oc/self-insert, implied oc x canon, this takes place before and during the prologue, lore!, all of this is in lowercase ٠࣪⭑ disclaimers ; this is not an 'x reader', this fic was made for me specifically, if you don't like it please scroll! ٠࣪⭑ cameo/s ; just rubia (@jade-s-nymph) ٠࣪⭑ fandom ; twisted wonderland

click, click, click... just mindless spam clicking.

a series of rhythmic clicking could be heard from a certain dorm room. well, not like that was abnormal coming from the students of ignihyde, a yellow shines brightly as the student groans "booo.... another 3 star."

skipping through the gacha animation, the girl sighed. "what shitty rng luck." oh boohoo, same old boring routine. she'd save up how many crystals only to waste it on a duplicate. someone get the tissues because that's just so sad!

she closed the game to wallow in sadness as she sank into her comfortable bed. she opened her calendar, wait a damn minute-

isn't it the entrance ceremony tomorrow? ohhhh... great! a new bunch of newbies who haven't allocated their skill points yet! hopefully the new ignihyde students aren't gonna be a massive pain in the ass.. well, ignihyde doesn't have it as bad as heartslabyul at least (like seriously who let heartslabyul be so overpopulated...)

๋࣭⭑ ⭐˖

"you must attend! it is truly unbecoming of a student of our prestigious school to not attend our solemn ceremony!" the thunderous voice coming from yowa's phone was so... noisy.. but who was she to not listen to his rants? well, she was listening to him politely scolding her as she was putting on the ceremonial robes "idia's not going either tho.." she responded. "well, it does not justify your absence from the ceremony!" "i get it. I just don't want to attend in person tho."

the person on the other line of the call only sighed, why is she always like this?

"hmph.. very well, just be sure to attend the club fair!" "i won't miss your terrific horse riding skills" "eurk..!" hes probably as red as a rose right now. "see you during the club fair." she said before hanging up. she had a bit of time left.. she can play some gam-

riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!!

another call? seriously?? she has like 4 contacts on her phone, who the hell is calling he- oh. Rubia.

"what's good" "you're not attending the ceremony, correct?" "oh goddamnit" "as i thought" "no shit rubia" silence filled the room for a few seconds

"so, how was the call with riddle?" "are you stalking me? where are you?? under my bed??" "it'd be difficult to be under your bed when you don't even have a bed frame" the ignihyde student rolled her eyes "i do have a bed frame for your information." "what? the headboard you forged out of pillows? that does not classify as a bed frame and I know you know it." "it's better than nothing tho" "you have idia to pay for a bed frame." yowa chuckled.

"yeah yeah." "the ceremony should be starting by now." rubia mentions "welp, cheers to the next generation of level 1 newbies" yowa joked as she hung up.

logging onto her account to attend the ceremony online, it seemed like it was approximately 9 minutes from starting.

let's watch the newbies join the game for the first time, shall we?

๋࣭⭑ ⭐˖

okay. wow. that ceremony was... fucking wild.

yowa needed to turn off whatever device she was using right now because what the actual fuck was that. so, a random student from another world basically isekaid and triggered a level 5 boss which was a fire-breathing cat (not the weirdest but definitely weird.) that started committing arson? this ceremony was a goddamn mess, but it was an entertaining mess.

after observing the ceremony she had screen recorded over and over, she couldn't help but shrug her shoulders and feel a little bit bad for the newbie. maybe it was because they had to live in ramshackle of all places, but eh. they'll adjust to this world despite being magicless.

she was typing all of this down until she heard a familiar voice coming from the other side of the door "nee-san! the ignihyde welcome celebration is about to begin!" yowa chuckled as she heard the robotic, but lively voice called for her "yeah... give me a moment"

i guess she can wonder more about that newbie later. for now, she'll enjoy her life the way it is.

٠࣪⭑ notes ; man i've been gone from this platform for such a long time lmao, sorry if the fic and grammar is terrible, just trying to ease myself into writing again. thanks for reading, always remember that reblogs > likes, love you all !!

xoxo, parfait

[90shetfield]

The Everyday Life of Kirk and Y/N

What is the routine like with Y/N and Kirk?

1988

The Everyday Life of Kirk and Y/N

5:30-6:30AM: Me and Kirk Love to cuddle for at least an hour before we get up. It's like an unspoken rule. He holds me tight all night as i feel his body heat creep up on me spooning me with so much love and adoration. His breath on the nape of my neck and his curly fluffy hair tickling my skin. If one of us gets up we whisper to each other sweet nothings praising each other before going back to cuddling. Sometimes the cuddling escalates to something more…

6:30-7:15AM: After we finally get up (which can be a struggle sometimes as Kirk loves to sleep in) we shower together. A lot of body worshiping and touching usually happens at this time, y'know being naked with your Fiance in close quarters makes this happen. He’ll shampoo my hair giving my scalp a much needed massage making sure to handle me with absolute care like I'm some dainty flower trying to preserve the poor petals. He usually hums a song or even a riff he's been writing in my ear. I bob my head along loving his voice. After the shower he still takes care of me brushing my hair and putting on my completion products for me.

7:45-8:30AM: This is when me and him eat breakfast. Its silent only the sounds of sipping and chewing can be heard with the occasional car passing. It's an enjoyable silence. I’ll sit next to him on the table leaning my head on his shoulder reading the comic books or magazines that he reads with him. He feeds me a piece of toast, tucking my hair behind my ear and kissing me on the cheek.

8:30-9:30AM: We get ready for our day together. Me and him take an hour to get our clothes on and out the door. I'll do my makeup while he walks in back and forth into the mirror's frame wondering where his jeans are despite them being right next to our bed (he checked them four times already) He kisses the top of my head, getting his jeans on telling me how gorgeous I am with or without makeup. I tend to borrow a lot of his clothes too like the band tee shirts and jackets, boy do i love wearing his jackets. If i'm not with him i have the jacket to remind me of my wonderful soon to be husband and that just warms my day no matter how bad i'm feeling.

10:00AM-2:00PM: when it's our errand day we take a long time just walking around exploring los angeles. Going to countless outlets and antique stores trying to find something that both plagues our interests. Me and Kirk both love classic horror movies and comic books, we have quite a collection already. If we see an item relating to any of this we get it displaying it in our collection. Days like this are rare though with him being a famous rockstar and all. He's so busy from this time with meeting and recording sessions so i cherish the time we spend alone everyday.

I remember him taking my hand running into this one store he found. The inside being filled with couples gifts and cards. He takes me straight to the chocolate section knowing how much i love it. (almost as much as him) He tells me to take my pick saying he’ll pay for it because he loves to see how happy it makes me. This is the sweetest man ever, I don't know what I'd do without Kirk Hammett in my life. It would be one boring life..

2:30-5:00PM: In our house we have our own little creativity room. One half of it is dedicated to painting and artistry something i take so much pride in. Ever since I was a little girl I would have such a love for scribbling something on a paper with a green crayon that it would somehow be classified as art? It lets all my creativity flow with a stroke of a brush or the ink flowing out of a ballpoint pen. The other side of the room is where Kirks guitars a music related things reside. The room is pretty big and I give him most of the space because Music is his actual career not his hobby but still. All of the guitars hung up on the wall securely, the mess of papers on the floor having musical notes with unreleased music attached. Next to it is a huge pile of multi-colored picks with all different textures and thicknesses to create a whole new sound. While I paint he’ll play the new things he's working on with his bandmates trying to perfect every last detail. Somedays James and Lars will show up to give him some encouragement and just to hang out. We’ll all just have a beer as black sabbath is blasting in the background from our old record player.

5:00-6:30PM: Dinner time! I do most of the cooking in the house. Kirk told me i never need to work a day in my life ever again, hell take care of me. I want to at least give him some stuff to fuel him up. He’ll cut veggies for me and put them into a soup or watch the pasta cook while i work on the sauce. After the food is done we tell eachother about our days. He listens at every single fucking work im  saying being so engaged. It makes me feel so loved

6:30-9:00PM: We just watch TV after a long day of painting or being a legitimate pioneer in your field. You get kind  of lazy. That's me and Kirk every day. We’ll sit on the couch seeing what's on the channels. I like to watch MTV. If a Metallica interview or song ever came on, Kirk would blush heavily and bury his head in arms being embarrassed at seeing himself. I chuckle stroking his hair until it's over. Then I'll check the news, it's good to keep up to date on the world  even if it turns to shit now and then. Kirk will get bored and change the channel to a horror movie that I haven't even heard of. It's always an enjoyable experience though watching a movie with the love of my life. He’ll grab a blanket and throw it on top of us, he puts his hand on my inner thigh under the blanket being sneaky even if no  one is here. 

9:15-11:00PM: we fall asleep on the couch as the movie still blears in the background. The subtle sound of his snores engulf the room. Taking a small little nap.

11:30PM: Kirk will softly nudge me telling me to wake up. My eyes slowly flutter awake and I yawn. Kirk looks down at me on the couch being way too comfortable to move. He gently picks me up into his arms bridal style, carrying me back into our bedroom. He places me onto our sheets with a gigantic sincere smile admiring my sleeping stature. I sit up ruffling my tangled hair yawning again just wanting to fall back asleep. Preferably in his warm embrace. He takes his shirt off discarding it on the dark hardwood floors he fidgets with his belt on his pants also taking it off. The rest of his clothing besides his underwear come off in room for a pair of black sweatpants still leaving his exposed chest for me to eye. He walks back over to me on the edge of the bed.

“Let me take care of you baby” He caresses my cheek helping me slip out of my clothes and into my pajamas. I'm still half asleep for all of it, my heart is still beating as fast as it did when we first met back at an early Metallica gig when they were still little itty bitty baby’s. I don't think Kill Em All even came out yet. Me and him just clicked, James would always make fun off us saying why dont we just fuck already. 

It wasn't until one day in early 1986 where he confessed his love under a bridge in New York, my birthplace. He gave me a necklace asking if i could be his other half. I cried so much that day, happy tears though telling him yes I wanted to be his stupid nerdy girlfriend. Now we’re engaged and ready to get married in late 1989 or early 1990. Time really does fly.

He climbs on top of the bed grabbing me holding me tight like he always does. He leans in, locking our lips together in a kiss that lasts an eternity. I tighten my grip on his bicep running out of breath, desperate for more. He stops the kiss only to kiss me with more ferocity and passion.

He covers us in our blanket once again touching our foreheads together keeping his hand on my face staring hearts into my eyes.

“God I love you so much Y/N” He kisses my forehead, shutting our light off.

11:45PM: Me and Kirk fall asleep in each others arms ready to start the next day together as one.

[zeroducks-2]

strapping you to a chair and forcing you to write fluffy sladick >:3

Reporting live from the chair I've been strapped to, have some fluffy Sladick!

(I used this other ask to give myself a prompt, I hope you'll see it anon!)

5. "Sing to me" Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

Dick has never been a fan of the rain, even if living in Gotham he needed to get used to it if he wanted to survive. It doesn't mean he has to like it, and the way the city is perennially covered by layers of polluted air and stormy clouds is his least favorite aspect of it.

However. Sprawled on the bed with way too many pillows propping him up in a semi-sitting position, the wall-sized windows of the loft letting him see the entirety of Gotham bay, the way it's engulfed by clouds, the soft patter on the glass... well, that he's been enjoying greatly. He's been at it for a while now, just resting like that and watching the rain fall on the gray sea, and by this point he's hungry and would get up if he could, but he doesn't dare move. Not with Slade currently sleeping face down against his chest, an arm partially wrapped against Dick's middle.

Dick has fingers running through his hair, slowly and gently enough not to rouse him, and listens to his heart beating in an uncharacteristically slow way. They had a rough night. He knows he'd be dead, wasn't it for Slade. Slade would be dead too, wasn't it for Dick. At least they're even, he thinks with a half smile, and if this isn't the first time he and Deathstroke exchange favors, it never happened before that once the mission was over, they'd found themselves kissing and groping each other under the relative cover of an isolated alley.

«Little bird.»

Dick doesn't flinch because he's used not to, but his caress halts if only for a moment. «I thought you were sleeping.» He says and it's true, not much changed in the way Slade's breathing and his heart is beating, he might be sleeptalking for all Dick knows.

«I was.» Slade straightens up but remains over him. He doesn't lean against Dick's chest anymore, instead cages him with his own. «But, I understand you might want to go.»

Dick smiles and leans in to close what little space there is between them and kisses him, and their bodies are not touching anymore so he can't be sure, but he could bet that the man's heartbeat picks up.

«I'll stay until you're fully healed, okay?» He says but barely even finishes the line because a hand comes up on his cheek and there's another kiss, deeper this time, more urgent. Like Slade was still gripped by adrenaline after seeing Dick get nearly decapitated.

«Yeah.» The man says, appearing to forcefully pull away but their foreheads remain touching. «Stay as long as you wish.»

Dick frowns and brings both arms up to hold him, recognizing apprehension when he sees it. «I'm alright.» He says, straightening up on his knees so that they can embrace properly. «I'm not hurt. You made sure I wasn't. Please don't be worried about me.»

«I know, Dick.» Slade replies and runs a palm down Dick's naked spine, and he frowns, realizing that this is the first time the other calls him by his first name. «I'm not worried. I'm just glad you're here with me.»

He widens his eyes and feels his face flush, not knowing what to say or do with what he just heard. He doesn't break the embrace and searches the edges of the bandages he himself wrapped around Slade's middle; that's what prevented them from actually tearing each other's suit off in that lane, the night before. The fact that Slade was bleeding out, the wounds too severe for his healing factor to take care of without assistance. At least they managed to get to Slade's safehouse. Or, well, whatever this luxurious loft in Gotham Central classifies as.

«Sing to me?» Slade asks, holding him back and breathing in once dipping his nose into the hair on the side of Dick's head. «Like you did last night.»

Dick smiles, he thought Slade was passed out and didn't even realize. He nods and lies back down with him, letting him rest against his chest again, then hums an old song from his childhood.

Thank you for asking Jelly and anon ♥ Here's the prompt list for whoever wants to peruse it, or send me another prompt :)

[thelaundrybitch]

A New Beginning

TURTLE DOVES!!!

I found something in my drafts, and I decided to share it.

I wrote this FOREVER ago - So I'm unsure if I will continue with it.

@leosgirl82 was there when it happened. 😁😎🤩🫶🏽💃🏽

And @drowninghell made some fanart for it - Which I will be posting if it's alright with her 🥰😍💖

Tee hee

Anyways. It was something somewhere between "write what you know" and "wicked fucking self-indulgent."

Also

IT'S NINJA FUCKING TURTLES

SO

Without further ado...

I give you...

Some Cowabunga 💙❤️💜🧡

18+ content - for mature audiences only!

THESE ARE AGED-UP NINJA TURTLES. THEY ARE GROWN ASSED ADULTS. DON'T BE A <FILL IN THE BLANK>. 😘

Or at least that’s what I tell everyone.

My name is Liz, and I work for OSHA.

You see, after I graduated with an Associate’s in Science for Occupational and Environmental Safety Management, I was offered a job with FED OSHA - Occupational Safety and Health Administration through the federal government - The job of my dreams. So, you can imagine how ecstatic I was when they hired me. 

Everything was great for the first few months - until they brought me in on a top-secret project in New York. They told me they needed a Safety Technician who specialized in humanitarian issues and loved animals. Apparently, they thought I was their girl.

Weird, right?

So, they brought me to this gargantuan underground facility, where I was given my own office with all the latest and greatest technology and safety gadgets - even ones that hadn’t been put on the market yet; It was a fucking dream. One of those ‘too good to be true’ scenarios.

And indeed. It was too good to be true. 

They moved me to Manhattan to be closer to the facility because it was necessary for me to be on call 24/7 - which was totally fine because it was just me. 

And because they paid me WELL.

So, after a few months of puttering around, fixing compliance issues, they decided it was time for me to start in my REAL job position.

“Ms. Bueno, we will be bringing you in today, to help with the major issue we hired you for, initially.”

“Great! I can’t wait to get to work!” I said to the director.

“Good. I’ll be waiting in Section K22. Please meet me down there.”

“The high-security clearance sector?” I asked, a bit confused.

“Yes,” he replied.

I nodded, and he went to walk away but stopped at my office door. “ Oh, and Ms. Bueno?”

“Yes, sir?” I asked.

“Do make sure you use the restroom before you head down. Some of the things you see may be… Shocking,” he told me.

“Certainly, sir,” I said as he turned and left completely this time.

What the actual fuck are they doing down there. 

I met the director at the entrance to K22 - which turned out to be more secure than Fort Knox - and I was handed a white lab coat and some safety glasses by his security detail, which consisted of like seven huge dudes.

“Why are you guys all wearing bullet-proof vests, and I get this?” I asked, shaking the flimsy lab coat between my index finger and thumb.

“They seem to have a soft spot for females,” said ‘Bruce’, according to his name tag.

“Well, Bruce,” I said, unimpressed by his explanation, “OSHA clearly states that whatever PPE or other safety-related articles are donned by personnel going into an area of safety concern, those same articles need to be worn by EVERYONE that enters. Not just the men,” I stated, giving him my best OSHA inspector face. 

“She’s not wrong. Give her a vest for under her lab coat,” said the director.

That’s right. Fuck you, Bruce.

After all of my safety gear was on, they walked me down a long, brightly lit corridor that led to another door. This door could only be opened using iris recognition. 

“Ms. Bueno, what you are about to see, is one of the World’s most highly classified projects. If you tell anyone about this, you and said people will be eliminated.”

“Eliminated?” I choked out through a slightly embarrassing squeak.

“Eliminated. As in loss of life. Death. And you will be expunged - completely erased so no one knows you ever existed. Do you agree to these terms?”

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What in the HELL have I gotten myself into…

“Uh, yes?” I said, making my response sound more like a question.

“I’m not convinced, Ms. Bueno. I need to be very convinced before we go through these doors. It’s a matter of national security.”

“100%, sir. I am absolutely, 100% positive. I swear to these terms, sir,” I told him, feeling my backbone reappear.

“Good. Samuel, we’re ready for entry,” he told the biggest security staff member.

Samuel cocked his gun and stood in front of the door, in the ready position, pointing the gun at it like the zombie apocalypse was about to ensue.

I swallowed nervously.

That’s a fucking lie. I’m about to shit my pants. No wonder he had me go to the bathroom before I came down here.

Anyway, as I’m wishing I had a diaper on, the director leaned in and initiated the iris recognition scan, successfully opening the sealed door. The security detail filed in first.

I followed the director into what looked like a giant laboratory. As we got ready to turn the corner, his security detail fanned out in front of us.

“LET US OUT!” Boomed a deep, raspy voice.

*Adrenaline rush*

“Just sit down. It’s not gonna help,” said another.

“HE NEEDS HELP!” yelled the first voice.

“I know, but they aren’t gonna let us out. And honestly, I don’t even know who could, or would, help him.” came a third voice.

I saw the director from the corner of my eye, turn and look at me as I stood stock-still, looking forward, and waiting to be told that I could proceed.   

He didn’t say anything, so I turned and looked at him, my eyes the size of Jupiter. All pupil.

He nodded once, and I stepped around the corner.

May God strike me dead where I stand, if I’m lying. 

There was a giant reinforced cage, resembling jail cells, holding the fucking Ninja Turtles in them.

I shit you not.

Albeit they were a bit older than we’d seen them in movies, and they looked slightly different, but they were definitely THE Ninja Turtles.

I gathered myself and turned to the director. “What is my job here, sir?” I asked him, completely composed with a straight face.

“Health and Safety,” He said, sadness flashing across his eyes for less than a moment. “We will leave you and let you do what you need to do,” he said, leaving me alone with the caged turtle-men. 

Once I was sure I was alone, I looked around for security cameras. When I'd decided there were none - probably for top-secret and national security reasons - I took off the stupid lab coat, safety glasses, and bulletproof vest and ran to the cages.

“Oh my god, what happened to him?” I asked, squatting down and reaching an arm through the bars to check Donatello’s pulse.

The other three turned and looked at me, confused. 

“Don’t touch him,” Growled the red-banded bara.

“Who are you?” asked Leonardo, putting a hand up in a placating manner, in an attempt to get his brother to back down.

“I’m the lead Health and Safety technician for this project. They hired me six months ago for this project, but this is the first time hearing about all of this,” I said, slightly alarmed by the faintness of Donnie's heartbeat. “Now, please tell me, what happened to him,” I said to Leo, looking him directly in the eyes.

“We don’t know. They sedated him. Heavily. And took him out of the lab. He was gone for two days. He’s been like this since they brought him back,” said Leo, now kneeling in the corner of the cell so he was next to me and his unconscious brother.

“And how long ago did they bring him back?” I asked.

“Maybe three to four hours ago? It’s hard to tell. We’ve been stuck in here forever.”

“Oh God… Is he allergic to anything? Does he have any health issues?” I prodded, my eyebrows furrowed, and my face twisted in clear heartache.

“Uh, no, no. None of us do. I mean, unless you count the fact that we’re overgrown, mutated, humanoid turtles…” He said.

I couldn't help but smirk at him, “No. That’s actually quite normal. This is New York, after all.” 

Mikey huffed a stifled giggle from beside me, now standing the closest he could get to us, in his own cage.

As I started to stand up, Leo stuck his hand through the bars and grabbed my wrist. I looked into his gorgeous blue eyes, which were filled with sorrow and hope. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t even done anything,” I told him softly.

“Yea, but you’re going to - I can see the genuine worry on your face,” he said, my face heating up as he pulled me closer to his cage to get a better look at me.

“I need to go look through the files over by the entry door,” I whispered to him. “I need to see what they were doing to him, so I can help him.”

Leo released my wrist and wiped a tear from my cheek. I didn’t even realize I was crying. 

“I’m Leo,” he introduced himself.

“I know who you guys are. You’re kinda my childhood heroes,” I confessed, looking down.

“Thank God,” huffed Raphael, visibly relaxing.

“You’re actually gonna help us then?” asked Mikey from behind me.

I turned and looked at the orange-clad turtle, “Yes, of course.”

I turned back to Leo and leaned in closer to him so he could hear me whisper...

“I don’t know how, but I promise, I’ll help you get out of here.” 

Enjoying my work? Find my Master list HERE

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*If you aren’t on this list, please let me know if you want me to tag you in my other work or if you prefer me to not tag you 😘

[windvexer]

Hi, have you ever heard of this entity?

https://www.scarystudies.com/midnight-man-game/

Would a witch be able to summon it outside of this context and what kind of entity is this? Also, using your own name and dropping blood onto paper what does actually entail?

Easy link to URL

Midnight Man is an urban legend. I suppose that if such an entity does exist, it could be classified as a pop cultural spirit, or perhaps an egrigore.

There is no way for us to know if it is possible to summon Midnight Man outside of this elaborate summoning ritual, until we do the necessary research. When lore dictates that a certain ritual is the correct one to use to summon an entity, it's hubris to assume we can conjure the same spirit using our own, unrelated summoning rituals.

And until you let Midnight Man try to murder you until 3:33 am, then how would you know you conjured the same spookypasta spirit if you used another format? Just because you summon a spooky spirit who promises to kill you doesn't mean you've summoned the actual Midnight Man, if such a creature does actually exist.

Also, you don't even get anything for surviving the ordeal with Midnight Man. You just don't die. This seems like a terrible deal. There are lots of urban legend summoning stories. Have you considered Three Kings, or perhaps the Man in the Fields? Either of those urban legends at least suggests that if you don't die or go permanently insane you'll get wishes, or something.

I mean, even if we're approaching this from a pop-culture witchcraft context, Midnight Man explicitly doesn't like or help people at all, unlike Man in the Fields. So it's hard for me to see this going anywhere even if you want to take the urban legend and transplant him into your personal magical practice.

I'm not sure I understand your question about using your own name. The instructions you linked seem quite clear:

1. Write down your name on a piece of paper. First, middle, and last name. Then put a drop of your blood on the same paper. Let the blood soak in to the paper. 2. Then turn off the lights. All of them. Go to the wooden door and put the piece of paper with your name in front of it. Then light the candle and put it in on top of the piece of paper.

I do sometimes use my blood in rituals. To obtain blood for this purpose, I use sterile diabetic lancets which can be purchased at any pharmacy.

Also, if your aim is to summon a demon who's only goal is to eviscerate you, please let me recommend a more fire-safe option for the setup: Use a candle with a low profile, like a tea light, and place both the paper and the candle in a large, fire-safe cooking pot.

Being hunted by a suspected demon seems like a great setup to kick a real candle and actually burn down your apartment, and doubtless the insurance company would not attempt to subrogate against the Midnight Man.

Best of luck working with creepypasta spirits!

[cantsayidont]

January 1996. Before it became a Harley Quinn thing, BIRDS OF PREY was Barbara Gordon's (barely) crypto-lesbian crimefighting polycule. After Babs was shot by the Joker and summarily discarded by the Bat-books, John Ostrander and Kim Yale reinvented the former Batgirl as Oracle, a computer hacker and information broker who for a while was Amanda Waller's second-in-command of the Suicide Squad. In 1995, Oracle became the costar of the leading homoerotic team-up franchise of the '90s, recruiting Black Canary and later various other superheroines for what was nominally a CHARLIE'S ANGELS type adventure series with Oracle as Charlie.

What's memorable about this initial special, aside from its horny Gary Frank art, is that Black Canary doesn't know who Oracle is except by reputation and as an electronically altered voice on the telephone. However, Dinah is going through a rough patch, so when she comes home to find an answering machine message from Oracle saying she has a dangerous job for her and has already bought her a first-class ticket to Gotham, Dinah decides she has nothing better to do but play out the string. Oracle has gotten her a fancy rental car and a swanky hotel suite, in which there's a throat mic and tiny transceiver that will let Oracle communicate with her (and surveil her, although Oracle already knows everything about her, from her recent breakup with Oliver Queen to her poor credit rating) 24/7:

So, Babs not only wants Dinah to do some legwork for her, but also dresses her up like a doll, watches her every move, and is a voice in her ear basically at all times. (The early BIRDS OF PREY stories often have scenes of Babs talking to Dinah from the bath or the hot tub, because that's the kind of series this is.) Rather than being creeped out by this weird stalker/control-freak behavior from an anonymous woman, Dinah says, "Sure, why not?" and decides to just go with it, even after Oracle starts bringing other women into the mix. (It seems pretty clear that when Dinah asks, "Are these your personal taste?" she's asking whether they're what Oracle wants to see Dinah in — which Dinah evidently doesn't have a problem with — rather than whether they're something Oracle herself would wear.)

This being a '90s comic book by right-wing homophobe Chuck Dixon, there are of course various no-homo evasions throughout, but I'm not sure how one is supposed to not read this as kind of gay. The second BIRDS OF PREY story, which teams Black Canary and Lois Lane (and is written not by Dixon, but by Jordan B. Gorfinkel, the editor of the initial special), has this little aside:

There's no way anyone writing something like this in 1995–96 wouldn't know how people were likely to read this. (Dinah does know that Oracle is a woman even in their first adventure, and while Babs typically distorts her voice when communicating with people as Oracle, it doesn't appear that she does that with Dinah.)

After a while, Dinah does become curious to know more about Oracle, but Babs refuses to let Dinah actually see her. Eventually, though, circumstances force the issue in BIRDS OF PREY #21:

Dixon's script for this issue contained the following note for artist Butch Guice:

The more drama you can squeeze from this the better. We’re going for The Pieta as opposed to anything that HINTS of the sexual. This scene is apparently RIPE for misinterpretation (or OVERinterpretation.) by some of our readers.

Mission accomplished — no lesbian implications here, boss!

So, as you can see, they have the "be gay" part down pretty well, and you may also be assured that Babs spends this series doing crimes. As a hacker, she of course commits computer fraud on the regular, breaking into restricted and classified systems (she's hacked the military GPS constellation so she can track Dinah, for instance), but she also routinely steals as much money as she needs to finance whatever equipment she needs and keep her girlfriend partner and their ever-growing list of attractive female cohorts in hot cars and fancy underwear. Vigilante superheroes generally take a pretty selective attitude about the law, but the number of felonies this once rather prim policeman's daughter and one-time congresswoman perpetrates honestly puts Catwoman to shame. The stories are frustratingly stupid and the art only gets hornier as it goes on, but what a good series this could have been if it were actually good.

[georgieluz]

Hey Jules! 2, 9, 14, 19, 24, and 28 for the HBO War positivity ask game please ☺️

hi lou!! ofc ofc!! :)

2 - who are some your fav creators/mutuals?

i love all of my mutuals and every creator in the fandom bc everyone is just amazing!! but to list just a few @footprintsinthesxnd, yourself!! (@luckynumber4), @ep6bastogne @lamialamia @thewayisset @lewis-winters @jenkil @mads-weasley @hellofanidea @liptonwashere @malarkgirlypop @panzershrike-pretz @sweetxvanixlla @whollyjoly @samwinchesterslostshoe @next-autopsy @iceman-kazansky @heystovepipeboys @theflyingfin @cody-helix02 and many many more!

special shout out to the cult!! zim zam, my friends, zim zam!!! also i'm so sorry if i forgot to tag anyone!!

9 - a ship that you can't get enough of?

bradnate, andyeddie, snurgie, ronnix, lipluz, webgott, and no matter how much winnix i consume it never gets old so them too!

14 - your fav underrated character?

ooh this is always hard bc everyone classifies underrated as a different thing.. are burgie and harry underrated? if so, them! chuck grant, tab (this man is so loved he's can't be underrated but i couldn't not mention mr lover lover himself), alton more??? one of the most interesting easy co men for sure!! wish we had more of him (lol)

19 - what's your fav universally-accepted/fanon headcanon about a character?

ooh either all the nix childhood fanon or the andyeddie ghosts/afterlife/grief fanon.. yeah.. that hits the spot

24 - what wip from another creator are you most excited about?

all of @ep6bastogne's wips (yes i read all your tags about them in utter anticipation), @luckynumber4's burgie wip! anything @footprintsinthesxnd writes! same with @lewis-winters ALL of your wips sound so so sooooo up my street/my thing!! there are so many more but despite my plans to spend the day at home i actually have to leave the comfort of my bed and brave the cold outside, and i'm late already so i'm gonna have to stop listing, but it's very likely that i'm excited for almost every single wip any of you guys have!

28 - what's something that lives in your brain rent free and you want everyone to know about the show/the fandom/your works?

outside of hbowar??? oooh i have LOADS of things!! the thick of it!! it has such clever funny writing, the best dialogue and political satire ever, because it's just so true to life and accurate for uk politics. peter capaldi is fucking amazing in it! and you'll see a lot of uk actors that are famous for other things here. but yeah, it's just hilarious and witty and clever. love it. go watch it. ummm other than that, the korean band onewe!! please go listen to them, they are ridiculously talented and have the kindest most lovely and accepting fandom in the world. in fact, the hbo war fandom and onewe fandom are the only two fandoms i've ever felt happy and comfortable in. onewe write beautiful songs with the most gorgeous lyrics (they have a space series which is one of my all-time favourites). ALSO pride (2014) as a movie recommendation! this film is my comfort film but it tears me apart as well. some people watch it for the queerness and come away learning about welsh history too.. for others, it's the opposite. but as a welsh gay man for me both those elements are so important to who i am and my own identity, that this film is just feels so incredibly special to me. especially the character gethin who i really feel i can relate to a lot due to our circumstances. tim roth is someone who i always wanna shout about and who lives rent free in my head too. love that man so much. also the band the libertines!! because them and the strokes were my entire teenage years and i pretty much grew up with their music as my 'soundtrack'. ok i think that's enough, even though i definitely have way more to shout about. sorry i rambled!

for this ask game!

[doom-dreaming]

no i lied i am going to rant because it's only tangentially-related to the essay and i can't let myself go on tangents there. but i can link this post into it. win-win.

Last Light is not a murder mystery. It has the aesthetic of a murder mystery, but it is not a murder mystery. Why? Because there's no mystery. Not for the readers, which is really what matters. We know by the first few chapters who the killer is and what her motive is. The façade of a murder mystery is blown at that point, because there's nothing for the audience to figure out.

However, it gets weird because the main character...is still (technically) in a murder mystery. She's supposed to be, anyway. She doesn't know what we know. This format can work, dramatic irony is cool and the audience seeing behind the curtain before the sleuth does is a lot of fun...as long as the person crafting the story puts in the work to make sure all the internal logic is still functioning. Denning does not do this. The individual components of a murder mystery are still there, we still have the veneer of the genre, but the sleuth isn't actively solving anything or putting pieces together in a meaningful way.

The whole reason I'm so bothered by Mark being a suspect is that it's a classic red-herring...but for who? Not for the audience, we don't need a red herring, we already know who the killer is. So he's supposed to serve as a red herring for Veta...only there's no logical reason for her to cling to this so hard. He goes from being barely mentioned to being her top suspect at the drop of a hat. Well, the drop of a boulder, really. Because she only starts to suspect the Gammas could be capable of the kind of violence inflicted on the victims once she witnesses Olivia going Hulk Smash(tm).

...but then why Mark specifically? He wasn't the one who raged out. In fact, he never gets brutally violent at all during this novel, even when he's fully off his smoothers and fucking around on his own in the caves. All his kills are clean and precise and well-planned, absolutely nothing like the other murders.

Denning wants us to buy into this so desperately without having any actual, textual support for why Veta herself would believe this. The internal logic isn't there. We don't have anything to connect the final dot from "brutality" -> "enhanced strength" -> "spartans" -> "gamma company enhancements" -> ??? -> "Mark". Why not Ash? Why not Olivia, the one we (and Veta) actually witnessed beating a Sentinel into scrap metal with her bare hands?

All Mark does is make vaguely sinister remarks and remain standoffish. That's it. That's not evidence. That's the author wanting to reinforce a paper-thin plot complication because otherwise this book would be 200 pages shorter than it is.

There's not really any procedure involved for gathering evidence, either. Information drops conveniently into Veta's lap because every other character can't keep their fucking mouth shut. She doesn't have to work for any of it. Hey Denning, if you're gonna write a detective, for the love of god, she better do some fucking detecting. We see attempts at this. But in every conversation where she attempts to """trick""" someone into divulging something, they just talk in circles for a couple lines and then *poof* suddenly they're giving up classified secrets. There's not actually any clever dialogue or process of breaking them down, just the (very poor) illusion of it.

Anyway, now I'm losing the plot. Last Light is just sci-fi action with a whisper of intrigue (and I'm using that word so loosely), dressed up like a murder mystery. Denning can't write smart characters and I feel myself getting dumber the more I try to make sense of it.

[oathbreakerapologist]

Sortie Conlang Exploration 1: Oh God We're Really in It Now

EDIT THIS IS INCORRECT LMAO

There's really nothing to justify this project other than my sheer desire to peel back every layer I can find in this goddamn comic until I've burned it into my brain permanently. What's this project? There's a conlang in Sortie (et al) and I'm gonna try to figure it out the long way.

The first appearance of this script in SADS/Sortie is at the end of SADS #5.

Based on placement and context, I think this is a transliteration of "thank you for reading" (written right-to-left) because the letters line up where I'd expect them to be (e.g., see the repeated glyphs at the end of the third word from the right and the start of the fourth word from the right—that'd be the "R" in "for" and "reading", and see the repeated glyphs in the second position of both of the middle two words, that's the "O" in "you" and "for"). I'm going to use this as a key. This is a big assumption that I'm accepting for now because it's the best way I have to start, but I recognize that the rest of this project fails if I'm either (1) wrong about the meaning of this inscription or (2) wrong that the letters that show up in Sortie correspond to their usage here or (3) wrong about both. So with that liability in mind, I proceed.

The first part of this process is to collect all uses of the conlang in Sortie (#1–#3, for now) and figure out which of the letters that appear there are ones we now speculatively know (based on the key), and which ones we don't.

I went through and filled in blanks for all the ones I knew based on the key phrase—those are the ones in green next to each inscription. Then I went through the ones I didn't know from the key phrase and recorded them in the unknown box. I ended up with eleven unknown glyphs, which is not a terrible number (actually much lower than I expected, but more on that later). I might even have less than that, because some of them are quite possibly just slightly different forms of ones I have already seen; I was deliberately quite liberal about classifying things as unknown, as I'd rather artificially inflate my number of unknowns than misclassify something if I wasn't absolutely sure it was an instance of a certain letter. I numbered those unknowns and filled in the blanks with those numbers in yellow. If/when I reference a word like "H(1)(2)RD" (from Sortie #1 p. 121, and of course written RTL there—I flip words to LTR for my convenience when writing about them), read that as H-(mystery letter 1)-(mystery letter 2)-R-D.

Then I marked all the letters that appeared in the key phrase but not in sortie in orange in the known letters box. This is a surprisingly high number of letters; of the 14 unique letters in the key phrase, only 7 appear in the several bits of text taken from Sortie. The 7 letters omitted include all the vowels, except (infuriatingly) "O," which appears exactly once in Sortie #3 text. Jumping the gun a bit, but for reasons I'm about to get into, I suspect that the glyph I took to be "O" has actually been repurposed for something else, because I don't actually expect the letter "O" to appear in the text.

And that's because I think this conlang is an abjad, a writing system in which only the consonants are represented, leaving the reader to infer the vowel sounds. That explains the omission of vowels. And, for the record, I am fairly confident that the vowels are actually omitted, for a couple reasons.

Firstly (and most speculatively), our bank of letters from the SADS inscription gives us 6 consonants. Then we have at maximum 11 mystery letters, so at maximum 17 letters. Even if we're making use of an extremely limited vowel inventory (say, 4 vowels), that leaves us with at maximum 13 consonants. That's a much more limited consonant inventory than we'd expect, even if we assume there are a few uncommon letters that don't appear often enough to show up in the text taken from Sortie. Most European languages are in the mid-20s, so ~17 letters is quite short (there's several Pacific languages with letter counts in the teens, so it's not impossible, but it's unusual, especially considering the obvious Phoenician influence to the language). But ~17 is a perfectly reasonable number of consonants.

Secondly (and most concretely), there's just a bunch of consonant clusters that are probably unpronounceable if we assume they're supposed to be pronounced as written, i.e. without vowels, like "RFH," "RKR," and "DGD."

So I think it's an abjad. That's useful to know.

As for next steps, I think I'm going to write a quick script to count frequency of individual letters as well as two- or three-letter strings at the starts and ends of words, with the hopes of identifying commonly-occurring word parts. Without it, I can already pick out a few interesting words, but it'd be faster and more accurate to have a script for it. As for interesting words, "H(1)" is short and it shows up a couple times at the start of a sentence. If I can identify the word order (I think Phoenician was VSO, but I'm not going to assume that's true about the conlang), that'll help me figure out what part of speech "H(1)" is. There's also one string that seemingly occurs twice with an interesting variation: "H(6)(6)DGD" is said by the masked man on Sortie #1 page 123, then "H(6)(6)DGR" is said by him on page 124. A change of suffix? A verb tense? That's all pure speculation, but I'm guessing that is the same word root.

To be continued............

(Man, it'd be really fucking funny if I'm wrong about the key phrase I've been using to decode these.)