please give me feedback

// Let me make a few things clear...

(Not that I didn’t expect the blatant flaming, because I did, but eh.)

I am not saying Riot copied detail for detail my character, because very, painfully, obviously they did not.  Did you hear them announcing Rhea’s release?  NO, BECAUSE THEY DID NOT LITERALLY COPY AND PASTE MY CHARACTER.

THAT IS THE PROBLEM.

Had they done that it would have been all to easy to be like uuuuuuuuuuuh really?  Lookie here at this exact duplicate that was shared way before yours was.

The slap in the face is that they DID alter enough that I cannot legally claim they took my character, yet I cannot now attempt to share Rhea with them (therefore they don’t ever have to legally pay me for my design) because the similarities are too great.

Come on.

Stop using that argument and actually pay attention if you are going to give me feedback, please. D:

I am disappointed in the same way the creators of Vi, Kindred, Aatrox (who have actually talked to me on this matter), and many others are disappointed that Riot took their original characters as inspiration for a spin-off…

Which is fucking awesome, actually.

Minus the fact that they gave no credit whatsoever and acted like the SHIT TON of similarities, even down to the the ~1 ½ years of time apparently needed to develop a character began around the same time the original owners of that character shared them publically.

Simply telling the artists/authors that worked their ass off, or making just a tiny shout-out pointing out that hey, we took inspiration from your character, good job! would have made the difference between each of us flailing around like happy nerds and this.  This disappointment that something you have worked so hard on will never be recognized because someone else took it from you without a second glance backwards, and even worse made it impossible to go after them for.

I’m sorry if this all sounds like a rant, but honestly.  This isn’t the first time this has been done, and I’m just… tired.



Mega P.S.

The comparison to Toph isn’t even remotely close to the comparison to Rhea, as Taliyah is not a black-haired, blind child as Toph is, but rather an olive-skinned, light-brown haired and eyed character as Rhea is, both around the same age and body type, even down to the hairstyle (minus that headpiece) is the same.  They both served in the Noxian Military to hone their abilities (PLEASE TELL ME THAT IS A COINCIDENCE, TOO, I DARE YOU, AS I KNOW FOR A FACT NOXIANS ARE RACIST AF ALONG WITH THE MOST HATED RACE IN THE LEAGUE COMMUNITY AND THAT WOULD TAKE SOME IMPRESSIVE BALLS TO PULL OFF - NO ONE WOULD THINK OF THAT WITHOUT LOOKING AT MY PAGE), the same exact abilities might I add….

I should have been there protecting him. I should have been there for him to hold on to, not some stupid wooden toy.

psst it’s transparent

Digital Isabelle! It’s not perfect, as the app I used isn’t amazing, but I kind of did it I think? Feedback as always welcome (it makes me very happy 10/10 would recommend)

Character and quote by Cassandra Clare. it’s okay to use it, as long as you give me credit. If you steal my drawing, I will erase your boyfriend’s memories.

Cheap Wine

I wonder how many people genuinely appreciate poetry.

Do any of us long to taste the beauty of words on our tongue?

Or would we rather treat words with the grace of a wine taster

Swilling them around in our mouth before spitting them out

All the while declaring them divine?

Fit to be presented to the public

Paraded around as a commodity.

To be bought and sold and mentioned to a friend once or twice.

Words cannot be traded

Tossed aside and simply forgotten.

Words have a purpose.

Words have a meaning that is greater than I will ever be.

What I keep locked inside my soul can be set free with a few strokes of a pen.

Perhaps not in monetary value

But I believe that is worth much more than a cheap bottle of wine.

I never liked the taste of coffee

But you loved it.

You’d kiss me in the morning after drinking your first cup

And I’d carry the taste with me all day

Because it reminded me of you.

I’d often catch myself smiling

Thinking about the way your eyes lit up

As the caffeine finally kicked in.

You felt confident enough to take on the world.

In some ways, you were like my caffeine.

You gave me strength and courage.

I depended on you to get me through the day.

But you also made me feel emotionally drained

After all was said and done.

Once the adrenaline had worn off,

I became nothing more than an empty vessel.

I could only consume you in small doses;

Too much of a good thing will kill you.

I was fortunate enough to escape your hold on me,

But the memories lingered for years.

Now even the sweetest chocolate

Feels like the remains of coffee grinds against my teeth.

I never liked the taste of coffee.

But I loved you

And I was willing to make sacrifices.

Hi. My name is Chris
No, this is not what is written on my birth certificate.
I chose it myself, with time and lots of thought.
Because I didn’t care for the first name i got.
This isn’t my fault and it’s not up for change.
It might be odd to you, but it’s not that strange.

Let’s clear things up, I’m not a girl or a boy.
I don’t conform to a gender like most think I should.
Some don’t accept me like I had hoped they would.
But I don’t let it get to me, I know they mean well.
Even when I hear that I’m going to hell.
The ones I hold I hold dear love me as me.
And they’ve grown to accept me which is amazing to see.
There’s a lot of judgement in this world.
But remember, you don’t have to be a boy or a girl.

My pronouns are they and sometimes he.
Just please don’t ever call me a she.
It’s that simple really, just don’t call me a girl.
Because I’m not, and of that I am sure.

Yes I have a small chest as well as short hair.
But that doesn’t make it your business what I have ‘down there’.
So please don’t ask me, I’m not gonna say.
I’ll probably just ask you to please go away.

So, when I see looks of confusion and get asked what I am.
I give them the answer “I am what I am”.
I hope you can see,
I am simply just me.

—  An introduction to me
sure I have to carry my tank of water and so do you
but sometimes our waters mix together and we blend beautifully
but we part ways suddenly like oil and water and we’re back to carrying our tanks
we acknowledge each other the moments before sleep
gazing over the edge
but never getting wet
in the fear of our waters becoming something we cannot handle
something too wild and the waves too large
but sometimes your pond spills over
and your river runs wide
and your ocean floods
and you’re okay
so take this chance
and let the waves wash you clean
—  11:27pm, I’m thinking
Always Ch 2

(Okay after this I SWEAR I will stop posting these straight to Tumblr but I really enjoyed writing this scene so it’ll be okay)
This comes after the scene I wrote here: http://hpandcarbs.tumblr.com/post/143190287407/always if anyone wants to read it.


Sirius heard her before he saw her; he just couldn’t believe it was real. He’d been in Azkaban for four days according to his count on the wall. Four days of not knowing what had happened to the most important people in his life. Four days of mourning two of his best friends, his godson. Four days of hating Peter. Four days to sit and wallow in the guilt.

“No one would expect Peter as the Secret Keeper. It’s the perfect bluff.”

He could almost hear the confidence in his own voice, see the silent conversation James and Lily had with their eyes. When James had first nodded and agreed, Sirius had felt such joy. He had been so sure that his plan would work. His stupid, stupid plan. Now when he thought of the nod, all Sirius could feel was despair.

Four days had passed in Azkaban since Sirius had realized just how bloody idiotic his plan had been. Four days since he had understand how truly foolish it had been to trust Peter. Four days that he had spent sitting in the corner of a cell, remember James’s grin, Lily’s voice. It was her voice that was coming to him now, although he couldn’t recall these particular words ever coming from his ginger friend.

“I’d like to get in here before the turn of the bloody century, Flint.”

Was Sirius already starting to hallucinate? He knew that many people went mad in Azkaban, it would be impossible not to. Sirius cracked a small smile despite the unpleasant circumstances. If he were going to hallucinate Lily’s voice, at least it was angry Lily. Angry Lily, when not yelling at him, was his favorite Lily.

“Hold your hippogriffs,” grumbled a male voice. “I have to send the Dementors to the other end of the jail.”

Sirius frowned to himself, confused. He’d heard that voice before but only since coming to Azkaban and never with Lily. It seemed he was already turning mad enough to mix his hallucinations in with true experiences. Maybe soon he would be mad enough not to feel so much grief.

“Hold my hippogriffs?” Lily’s voice repeatedly shrilly. “I will most certainly not hold my bloody hippogriffs. Get my friend out of this cell before I start practicing a few of my favorite hexes on your genitals!”

“Oy! You can’t give me orders! I suggest you remember your place here,” shouted the guard.

At that, Sirius could have sworn he heard Lily mumble something about remembering to place her wand up the guard’s ass. But that couldn’t possibly be true. Lily wasn’t here to threaten guards. She was dead. Peter made sure of that. Sirius would never again hear her mumble some snarky comment under her breath, never again sing off-key to Harry with her, never again prank James and Remus, never again see her red hair flying in the wind.

And just as the thought was crossing his mind, Sirius saw a flash of red hair. He saw Lily’s vivid green eyes, saw her standing right in front of his cell with her hands on her hips.

“Merlin, these hallucinations are progressing,” Sirius sighed to himself as he leaned his head back against the wall.

“Sirius!” cried the imaginary Lily again. “Sirius, are you alright? Can you understand me? Oh Merlin, he can’t understand me. I am going to DESTROY Peter Pettigrew. Sirius, please answer me. Do you know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are, Lils,” Sirius chuckled. “Wouldn’t be hallucinating you if I didn’t, would I?”

“Hallucinating? HALLUCINATING?” Lily turned to the guard. “Melvin Flint, you open up his bloody cell right now so I can start undoing the damage you dung beetles have done!”

“Now listen here!” the guard, Flint, bellowed. “You can’t just waltz in here and order me around like you’re the bloody Minister of Magic. I suggest you calm down, Mrs. Potter.”

“Calm down?!” screeched Lily. “You lot put one of my best friends in Azkaban without a trial and without waiting to speak to the people who could’ve told you whether or not he was guilty. He’s been in here for four days and he thinks I’m a hallucination! It was his birthday yesterday, for Merlin’s sake!”

Sirius gaped at the woman standing in front of him. It looked just like Lily, flaming red hair, bright green eyes, so much fury and power you could practically see it in the air around her. It sounded like Lily. But it couldn’t be Lily. He couldn’t allow himself to hope. It would be too painful.

“Oh, well if it’s his birthday,” Flint grimaced and rolled his eyes. Sirius watched in awe as not-Lily let out an angry screech and pointed her wand at the guard.

“That’s it!” shouted Flint. “You hit me with a stinging hex! That’s assaulting an Auror. I should throw you in the cell right next to your little friend here!”

“I’d like to see you try,” not-Lily glared intensely at Flint and stepped closer to him, still pointing her wand at his chest. “You go right ahead and throw me in a cell and see how long I stay in there. Just wait until the Prophet finds out that you’re the one who put Lily Potter in Azkaban. I sodding dare you.”

Sirius felt as if he’d been hit in the head with a bludger. Lily Potter was dead. He had seen her body on the floor, had seen the scorch marks on the cottage walls. And yet, here was a woman who looked and sounded exactly like his friend, calling herself Lily Potter and glaring with the angry glint in her eye he had seen during duels. He knew it couldn’t possibly be true; his brain kept telling him that it was impossible. Yet his heart could not beat down the hope that had sparked within him.

Sirius watched as not-Lily-but-maybe-possibly-Lily stared down the guard, wondering how he would react. Much to the prisoner’s surprise, Flint slowly walked over to his cell and unlocked the door.

“You’re being released, Black” the guard stated with a frown, refusing to meet Sirius’s eyes.

“I…. What?” Sirius looked on bemusedly.

“You’re being released,” not-Lily-but-Merlin-it-could-be-Lily repeatedly calmly, walking towards him. “Sirius, you’re coming home. You don’t belong here. You never belonged here.”

Sirius wanted to stand up and walk to her. He wanted to walk out the cell door and leave Azkaban forever. And yet, he couldn’t help remembering that he was currently wandless. He couldn’t stop thinking of the many Death Eaters who would love to see him dead, of Moody shouting “constant vigilance”. He stared up at the Lily in front of him, thinking of the Lily he had seen four days prior sprawled across the floor unconscious.

“I don’t believe you,” Sirius breathed, despite how badly he wanted to. “I’m not falling for whatever trick you’re trying to pull.”

“Sirius,” the woman in front of Sirius sighed. “It’s me. I know all about you. I am Lily Potter, wife of James and mother of Harry. James and I named you godfather when Harry was born. You gave me away and were James’ best man at our wedding. Your favorite candy is chocolate frogs because your mother hated the idea of them. You love your bloody motorbike so much it isn’t healthy. You turned 22 yesterday, on November 3rd. You’re four months older than James and you and I always tease him about being young and immature. And most importantly, you were not our Secret Keeper. You were there when we switched to Peter. You never should have been sent here and I am so incredibly sorry that you ever were.”

Slowly, Sirius rose from the floor and walked toward the redhead. He had believed she was a hallucination, had believed she was a Death Eater in disguise, and now could not stop himself from believing the impossible. Lily Evans was standing in front of him. Alive.

“I am so, so, so sorry,” Lily repeated with tears in her eyes, enveloping Sirius in a tight hug. “I would’ve been here sooner but James and Harry were unconscious and Dumbledore kept questioning us and we just assumed you were fine or doing something for the Order and we should’ve known, should’ve realized when you weren’t at the hospital with us…” Without even trying to hide it, Sirius began crying as well.

“Lil. I can’t even believe it’s really you,” he sobbed. “I thought… After Peter…”

“I’m alive, Sirius,” Lily soothed. “James is alive and so is Harry. We’re okay. We’re all going to be okay.”

At the thought of his best friend and his godson, Sirius couldn’t stop smiling. He started laughing and quickly lost control.

“I can’t believe you hexed a bloody Auror, Evans,” Sirius guffawed.

“It’s Potter,” Lily smiled, shoving her friend lightly on the arm. “And I’d like to leave here before I end up committing anymore crimes.”

Sirius beamed. Lily Evans had had quite a few brilliant ideas over the years but this was the best one yet.

the thing about oppression is it doesn’t exist on a lateral scale, and i think a lot of the anti-sj rhetoric of “you’re trying to tell me that a starving little boy in a poor country has privilege over you because he’s male???” comes from this misunderstanding

it’s not that easy. it’s a complex concept.

i’m a mentally-ill queer woman. i live in the united states, i am white, and i am fairly well-off financially. those characteristics in the former sentence have been the cause of multiple hardships in my life. however, the characteristics in the latter sentence qualify me for a great deal of privilege, especially on a global scale. they also help soften the blow of my struggles; for example, i have never had trouble obtaining professional care for my illnesses, and i will never be mistreated or criticized to the degree that women of color are.

so no, a starving little boy in a poor country is not privileged over me. viewing oppression in a polar sense - privileged vs oppressed - is incredibly shallow and ignores multiple factors.

So, just out of curiosity … What do y’all think of this? 

Marinette’s blue eyes snap open at the cawing of the rooster and the smell of mother’s baking bread. She lays in her cot for a few minutes, breathing in the smell of the crisp morning air and basking in the still silence of the morning, before either of her younger sisters have woken. She thinks back to last night, remembering how Artemis’ moon hanging low in the sky and how adrenaline rushed through her veins, leaving her light-headed and laughing as her partner catches her each time she slips.

How freeing it is to have a mask, she muses with an ironic smile curling her lips up. Her eyes rove over Isabella’s bed to land on Tikki, the strange ladybug-like creature who had crept into her room under the darkness of a moonless night and whispered a story of reincarnation and heroism. Or, at least, she’d thought it had been a story until she’d actually transformed into Ladybug that night that felt so long ago.

With a sigh, she pushes herself out of bed and walks to her plain table that holds her, Maria’s, and Theodore’s hair accessories. While far from being daughters of generals or one of the two kings, she knows that they’re well off since they’re able to afford several helots instead of just one or two like most Spartans. Part of that may be because she has two older brothers who have already joined the military with the other two in training. Perhaps it’s just because the kings favor her father. She doesn’t know, nor does she really care.

Her fingers trail over her ornate brush, a brush that one of her many suitors had gifted her in their quest for winning her heart, and she curls her fingers around the handle. Her mother worries that none of the suitors have caught her attention even though she has almost passed marrying age. She doesn’t know how to explain it to her— She can’t just go out and say I’m in madly love with one of our helots but he doesn’t know it and everyone else seems subpar to him. That’d go over fantastic. She’d be disinherited without a second thought.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried either. She’d genuinely liked Nathanael, and for a time she’d hoped that he would be the one to steal her heart. But as his feelings grew stronger and deeper, hers simply stayed the same until she told him that it wouldn’t work between them. He deserved someone who loved him, not someone who loved someone else. She’d felt awful about it, but in the end they had parted as friends, him glad she had told the truth, her relieved that he hadn’t hated her for eternity.

He never asked who had won her heart, and she’d never told him Adrien’s name.

I actually wrote this on Christmas eve and I … really … like … the premise?  I can easily write more about this, especially since I completely, utterly adore the Greek/Roman age. 

Heck, I even have a WIP title (Bring a Torch) and a summary already. :P 

You Made It Just In Time

So…I wrote this one-shot fic over a year ago…but I figured to make a few changes to it and share it here because what good is it doing sitting in my google docs unread? Realize since this is from last season, Enroth was still with the team. Also, I didn’t actually check the stats for the playoff thing, that’s just a minor detail to the story….

Player: Jamie Benn
Word Count: 1,869


Jamie finished packing his last few things and picked up his bag to head downstairs to the kitchen, where he knew he’d find his wife. Even though she was just a few days shy of being nine months pregnant, she just wouldn’t stay off her feet. He sighed, trudging down the stairs, knowing that she’d want to do even more once he left for his week-long road trip. It really sucked that he had to be gone this close to her due date, knowing that he could miss the birth of his first son. He walked into the kitchen to find his wife preparing dinner so they could eat together before he left.

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okay!!!!!! i finished the thing i was writing!!! it ends horribly it’s so ugly fuck like i don’t know where i was going with it um its about Life and Death and tw: torture tw: gore i guess omf omf why do i write but yeah if you could give me feedback!!! great!!!! did you like it did you hate it is my writing okay etc etc

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Dead Men Tell No Tales Epilogue

TITLE: Dead Men Tell No Tales
CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: Epilogue (but could be read as a one-shot)
AUTHOR: DilapidatedStreetlamps
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Pirate!Tom
GENRE: Drama/Adventure/Smut
FIC SUMMARY: Thomas is a stowaway found aboard the Sea Monster, a pirate ship led by a woman. She’s running from the Royal Navy for thievery across the Atlantic Ocean and for helping her brother Jacob, a known deserter. But that’s not all she’s running from. Thomas enters the chaotic world of pirates, violence, and affection for the austere yet beautiful Lady Captain, even though he knows this woman is keeping dangerous secrets that could turn his world upside down.
RATING: M
WORD COUNT: 3,602
AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS:  Hate sex, spanking, light choking???  How did those get in here?

(previous: x)

Epilogue

The Medea seemed to not touch the water as it flew across the Atlantic that day.  The sun was shining down on the deck of the ship, but Thomas was in the cool sanctuary of the captain’s cabin.  It was messy and unorganized, jewels and treasures shoved carelessly in every available space.  Trevor Brooks had left quite a fortune behind when he’d died, including this ship, the Medea–and Brooks’s crew thought he had given it all to Thomas.

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