#but then my mouth continues on its own accord and goes

[saryasy]

AND I'M DONE

(don't worry he's just missing his angel)

#i can't stop snuggling or petting him #he's just sooooo cute 😭 #but he keeps falling on the floor #and im taking much delight on going “oh crowley” #but then my mouth continues on its own accord and goes #“nothing lasts forever” #and we both start crying #I LOVE HIM #now i have to make him an aziraphale don't i #good omens #crochet

[sttoru]

ෆ tags. dad!toji x female reader. toji letting baby megumi try all kinds of new food !

it was a typical monday morning: you were making breakfast for your little family, flipping pancakes and eggs as you left toji to handle the task of helping megumi go through his routine. once your husband had finished, he walked into the kitchen with your little child in his arms (this time holding the boy somewhat properly).

once you turn your head towards the two, you noticed how megumi was eagerly suckling on toji’s index finger—a habit of your son to signal you that he yearned for his daily nutrients.

“megumi’s biting my finger off,” toji exaggerates, yawning before moving towards the fridge and opening the door. the sudden breeze of cold air hitting his skin makes him shudder.

you laugh and flip a pancake, revealing its golden brown colour on the back, “i stored ‘gumi’s food on the second shelf. a little in the back.”

megumi’s tiny arms were already reaching out for the familiar bowl, making grabby hands at it as if encouraging his dad to feed him his meal. toji’s eyes, however, were scanning the entire content of the fridge for something new, “y’know, maybe it’s time to learn how to eat somethin’ else, kid. your taste buds need’ta get used to other foods.”

according to his ‘brilliant’ logic, it’s best to get kids used to new foods at a young age so they won’t become picky eaters later on. thus, toji grabs the most random combination of whatever looks edible. the gathered items consisted of pickles, strawberries, mini-carrots, tomatoes and a single lemon.

toji quickly glances over at you, but your attention was totally focused on the breakfast you were preparing. your husband takes his chance, puts megumi in his high-chair and cuts up all the food he grabbed to biteable pieces for the baby, “alright, i’ll give ya the freedom of choosin’ something on y’r own. go on.”

toji places the various items on megumi’s small tray. the boy stares at the food and picks a piece of strawberry first since the red colour was the most appealing. megumi munches on it, hands as well as his lips getting a bit messy. he didn’t seem to dislike it as his little pouty lips continued to move and digest the fruit.

“okay, so ya like the strawberries. noted.” toji makes a mental note of the new discovery, already planning on buying boxes of strawberries for his son.

once megumi swallowed the piece, the curious boy goes on and picks another type of food. this time it was a yellow coloured piece—one which megumi had no knowledge about. toji did, however, and was already grinning.

the man crossed his arms while he looked down at his kid who was about to go through an unpleasant experience. that’s what builds character according to toji, so why would he intervene and stop megumi from eating a lemon? finding out on his own will teach him a very valuable lesson.

the second megumi’s tongue picks up on the extreme sour taste, his nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowing along with a disgusted noise escaping the back of his throat, “blegh!”

toji bursts out laughing and points at megumi whose tiny fingers were trying to wipe the taste off his tongue, spitting and almost crying from the unfamiliar taste that entered his mouth. most parents would help their child out and give them water to rinse their mouth, however the scene was apparently way too hilarious to your husband for him to even think about rushing to aid megumi.

you turn to see what the commotion was about and spot your son almost in tears from whatever he ate. you frown and walk up to the high-chair, inspecting the squished piece of lemon in megumi’s hand.

“mannnn, that was the funniest stuff i’ve seen in a while.” toji snickers once he calms down, finally grabbing a tissue to wipe megumi’s drool and spit off.

“poor baby.” you watch the small child stare at his dad with a pouty expression on his little face like he was awaiting on an apology of some kind.

even toji can’t deny it: he did somewhat feel bad now. those big and watery eyes looking up at him made him soften in a fraction of a second. the dark-haired man dumps the used tissues in the nearby garbage can and then walks back to the high chair;

“aww, okay, ‘m sorry.” toji coos and lifts megumi up in his embrace, smothering the child with kisses all over his exposed shoulders before softly poking the fat of his cheeks, “can you forgive your daddy, kiddo?”

“da-da!” megumi happily giggles without knowing the meaning of toji’s words. all the kid desired at that instant was more of his dad’s attention and affection. especially after what occurred a moment ago.

megumi was guaranteed to get what he needed since toji was already preparing to tickle and kiss his adorable son all over as an apology.

you chuckle and go back to making breakfast—your ears filled with high-pitched squeals from your son as toji’s voice called out for a ‘tickle attack’.

at least all was well in the end.

#ෆ : parenting 101. #jjk x reader #toji x reader #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jjk x you #toji x you #crisis averted ehem #shoutout to the requester 4 saving my ass #ilysm

[ilydottie]

| I’m Coming Back To You |

Pairing: Albedo x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Smut, Albedo goes by He/Him pronouns, Reader goes by no pronouns, Albedo and Reader are in the earlier stages of their relationship, Albedo is grey aroace, Reader is implied to also be aroace, Reader has a vagina, Reader & Albedo are switches, Overstimulation, Unsafe Sex, Albedo picks/holds up Reader, 1.1k words.

A/n: This came from the depths of my deepest desires, apologies. 

Summary: I’m gonna be honest this is just porn without plot, but if you need one then it’s aroace reader & Albedo having freaky nasty sex. 

Tagging: @auphelia

“Oh god.” 

Albedo was losing his mind from how well you were riding him. The both of you were dizzy with lust and pleasure, falling for each other in entirely new ways. Your hips rolled effortlessly as you took every inch of him, his hands gripping onto your hips for dear life. Albedo wasn’t a sexually charged person in the least, finding little comfort in the act of sex, but something about you made him go against everything he believed in. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, and I do mean anyone, but you? You made him feel things he didn’t even know he could. 

Albedo threw his head back and bit back the whimpers that were hiding underneath his tongue. Your body felt divine, but the way you used it was even more heavenly. Albedo soon became light headed, slowly losing grip with where he was and what he was doing. The only thing he could focus on was the insane amount of bliss he felt from your wet cunt. Chasing that high like a man starved, Albedo had begun to fuck you in pure desperation. 

“Baby..” He moaned. “Yeah.. just like that.” 

Although you and Albedo had only been dating for a short amount of time, your relationship was anything but uneventful. He courted you like a prince and fucked you like sinner in church. You didn’t think Albedo would ever be so full of passion, but in hindsight you should’ve seen it coming. Albedo was anything but casual when it came to the things that mattered to him. Especially when it had come to you. The way he touched you, loved you, fucked you; it was something you’d truly never felt before. 

Your back was now pressed against his chest while his arms locked around your waist. He began to pound himself inside of you at a brutal pace. His hold on you tightened each time he thrust himself back inside of you. It was as if his body was becoming stronger the more he was connected to you, intimately intertwined with the only person he’d ever truly needed. 

“Fuck, you feel.. so good.” He whimpered.

Albedo was slowly losing control as his slightly dominant nature turned into something submissive. He’d swear he was the one in control, but with the way things were turning he’d have to reconsider. His grip on you was tight and unmoving as his body seemed to move of its own accord. You were squeezing him in all the right places and so perfectly, too. He just couldn’t help what happened next. Albedo let out a broken whimper as his thrusts began to get sloppy and uneven, throwing his head back with drool spilling out the corner of his mouth. Tears streamed down his face as he started to release himself inside of you. There was so much cum, and yet, he didn’t stop pounding into you. 

Your nails dug into his bare thighs. “Albedo..” 

Feeling his cum leak out of your hole made you feel both embarrassed and excited. Your body hunched over as albedo fucked you faster and harder, your face and body burned with lust and pleasure. You knew you were Albedo’s first everything, but this was on a completely other level. You weren’t so sure you even knew the man that was inside of you right now, but on the other hand you didn’t care as long as he kept doing exactly what he was doing already. Albedo couldn’t hold it in a moment longer and hooked his arms underneath your knees, standing up to fuck you mid air. 

Your cunt was fully exposed and was being continuously abused by Albedo’s hard cock. The bliss that you both felt was on a level of pure insanity, the two of you being obsessed with one another in new ways. 

“Albedo, it’s too– too much!” You cry out, but he doesn’t stop and instead only speeds up the process.

He lets out one pathetic moan after another as he cums inside of you. This time you throw your head back and rest it against his shoulder as you feel him release his load inside of you, again. Your body is shaky and weak, and yet, you can’t help but begin to cry from the overwhelming euphoria you experienced. You wapped an arm around Albedo’s head as he kept fucking you full of passion and urgency. The feeling of his cock pounding into your sweet spot caused your head to spin. Feeling dizzy from the rush of pleasure you couldn’t help but squirt everywhere as he hit that special spot one more time. Your body was pure electric and you refused to hold back any moans that surfaced. 

“Please! Feels so good, Bedo!” You cried. 

Finally, his movement began to slow down as he felt himself soften inside of you. Lust still coursed through his veins, but he came to a gradual stop as he physically couldn’t keep up any longer. Carefully he laid you onto the bed and then laid down beside you. He brushed away strands of hair that were stuck to your face, due to the mixture of sweat and tears, moving them out of the way so that he could look you in your eyes. He smiled at you and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips.

“Beautiful.” He whispered.

Your vision was hazy and head still spun from dizziness, but you managed to still smile back at him. Soon your hands found their way into his and pulling it to your mouth you kissed his knuckles. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you waited until you could breathe again before saying the words you wanted to say.

“Fuck, Albedo. That was… hot.” You admitted. 

He gave you another kiss before nodding in agreement. The two of you laid on that bed until the both of you inevitably fell asleep in each other’s arms, completely worn out from the absolute euphoria you both had experienced. You would definitely be doing that again, you thought. 

#albedo x reader #albedo x you #albedo x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #albedo smut #genshin smut

[halfbloodprill]

i LOVE your luke stuff! could you do a mean!luke x reader smut where reader is his second in command on the princess andromeda? she’s his most loyal supporter and follows him around like a lost puppy

authors note- hii! i’m super duper glad u like my stuff 🤭 and ofc! i love this request sm. i hope u enjoy <3 requests r still open ;) keep sending :)

smut under cut !!!

imagine reader who just trails after luke every where he goes. she’s there to witness all of his moods. there to witness when he grins and has a glint in his eyes from triumph. there to witness his sneer when things don’t go according to plan and there to witness his fiery anger. she saw this at its peak after percy and his two friends escaped princess andromeda in the som.

luke let out a loud scream in frustration after the realization of percy’s escape.

“god fucking damn it,” he says heatedly as he storms off from the hull of the ship to the bridge.

you trail after him in his wake.

“luke, are you okay?” you ask sweetly. you’re nervous for his answer.

he turns quickly at you after your question and answers. “Obviously fucking not. Kronos needs Percy and that fucking fleece.” He scans your face as you stare at him blankly, unable to conjure up an appropriate response to validate his frustrations and disappointment.

“ ‘m sorry luke. How can I help you?” you ask sweetly as your look up at him with your doe eyes.

“I know a few ways, princess,” luke answers with a smirk. He roughly grabs your wrists and pulls you to his quarters.

And here you end up with luke fucking into you hard and fast. Your back is arched at an impossible angle. You’re whining and drooling into the sheets. your mind is numb from the sheer force and pace he has set for you. You look over your shoulder to see luke with his shirt between his teeth, abs glistening with sweat and you feel him practically stirring your insides.

“mmm. luuuke. feels so good- you’re so deep” you croon

“Yeah that feels good,slut?” he says as he releases his shirt from his mouth’s grip. “your pussy is so right you know that? you were made to be my little cock sleeve. your only job, baby girl. just to be used by me yeah?”

you nod dumbly at his words. you really were made for him. he fit you so perfectly in your snug and warm cunt.

“oh shit your cunt is so good. you’re gonna take everything i give you right? like a good little girl?” luke groans out and your pussy clenches down on him at his words.

“nghh yes. wanna be your good girl. gonna take it. i can take it, sir” you moan back at him. Luke moans at the name you call him.

“so fucking obedient.” he reached down and runs your clit at an impossible pace, hoping to push you over that edge and pull an orgasm from you.

“come on, slut. come for me. be a good girl and cum.” and at his words you feel yourself lost to your own climax. you’re whining and moaning, body shaking from the sheer pleasure you feel.

“oh shit. that’s a good girl. you’re so good. feels so fucki- fucking tight.” You feel empty suddenly as he pulls out and pulls your waist and flips you onto your back.

you close your eyes and hum at the calming of your climax.

“you didn’t think we were done, did you? that’s the first one you little slut. you wanted to help me right? you’re gonna help me now, bitch.”

he roughly pushes back in your sopping, puffy hole in one go and you whine at the sudden intrusion. “lu-luke. pleasee- too much. i’m so sensitive,” you claim as your eyes fill with your tears. your hands go up to cover your face from the overstimulation.

“too fucking bad. lay here at take all of it,” he says as he pulls almost all the way out and roughly thrusts back in you.

“oh shittt you’re still tight as fuck. thought it would be looser since i just fucked you. your hole is just too small and tight for me. yeah? that’s okay baby girl. i’ll just get you niceee and loose.” luke continues his pace.

you uncover your face and reach for his face, hinting at your desire for a kiss.

“please luke. wanna kiss you. please, sir. i’m yours,” you say quietly.

“aww my little baby. so needy for me. do you deserve it?” luke taunts you.

“yes! yesss just wanna make you cum, sir! i’ll do anything plea-please kiss me.” you whine for his affection.

he finally obeys and you indulge in a sloppy kiss. luke pulls away as he groans, close to the edge of his climax. “fuckk your cunt is too tight. i’m gonna cum. you’re gonna take my cum yeah, my little cum dump?”

you nod dumbly at his words and babble praise.

“yes yes yes!” you chant. “wanna make you feel good. take anything you give me.” at those words, luke empties himself in you. you whimper at the warmth you feel in yourself from him. your eyes fall shut and you feel a sharp sting from lukes palm.

“don’t fall asleep slut. i’ll let you have a break, we aren’t done yet. gonna paint your face in my cum next.”

#smut #luke castellan x reader smut #luke smut #luke x reader #luke x reader smut #charlie bushnell #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo smut #dom luke

[worldruins]

Meet the Remnant, my "slugcat" oc. Because I have no sense of moderation, it has an entire campaign loosely mocked up in my head- I don't have the modding ability or time to make anything of it but I enjoy thinking about it! The two iterators on the sheet are the central npcs of the campaign.

Remnant is larger, more aquatic, and faster on all fours than a slugcat. It struggles to use the same tools, carries items in its mouth, and can eat batnip and bubble weed. And, though it doesn’t know it, it is one of the last four of its kind left.

More about the campaign below VVV

BONUS: Remnant obviously resembles a slugcat, and they are sort of a slugcat ancestor! The genomes of the pipe slugs slugcats evolved from had remnant DNA as well as the simple tool-worm base that ancients used for many creatures. The blueprints were present in the modified organisms, and over several generations and mutations began to express themselves once more. Anyway…

To start, the Remnant is living with their family in an idyllic natural landscape much like survivor and monk at the beginning of their campaigns. The incident kickstarting their journey would be them wandering off from their kin and- gameplay starts here- getting lured off by something interesting, before the wall closes quickly behind them and the player realizes they have been trapped. They find themselves in a crate lined with wet plant matter, which gets shaken and turned around for a bit before settling down. It continues with a gentler rattling and remnant is clearly being taken somewhere, but the game acts like you're in a den and, once you've eaten the food set out for you in there, you sleep.

You are woken when the train carrying you crashes. You are able to escape and wind up in a light drizzle. Numerous overseers, some purple and others seafoam green, follow you around. The artificial, dilapidated surroundings are alien to the remnant.

During the first cycle an overseer will direct you to the nearest den, but you don’t have a rain timer until the first time you hibernate. You’ve never experienced rain like this before, after all.

The fact is that the remnant and their family are primal fauna, from the old world before bioengineering and iterators. They have spent their whole lives in a carefully controlled environment, maintained at first by ancients and then the systems the ancients left behind. The mass ascension happened, and nobody really knew what to do with these creatures- depending on the species, animals in captivity were generally released to fend for themselves or set for years of being maintained by machines scheduled in advanced, automated to care for them.

Remnant is taken when the iterator Ink Stained Palms orders a specimen of one relatively hardy species to study and potentially have the rest delivered to their regions. Something goes wrong- their delivery is sabotaged by their semi-active former senior, Calls To Stony Skies. And out Remnant goes into an alien land, with each of the two rival iterators trying to lure or force it to go to them.

This generally takes the form of projections like Iggy uses to get the slugcats to Moon, though it’s two different kinds of overseer guiding you in opposite directions at the same time. There may also be introduced environmental hazards- some of the chases in Little Nightmares come to mind- to corral you toward wherever the iterator causing it wants you to go.

ISP was the one who was getting the remnant delivered to her facility. They’re a bioengineer interested in long-term ecosystem restoration. It’s come to believe there’s a natural ‘balance’ to the world that could, in time, let living things leave the cycle of their own accord if it was realigned properly.

CTSS is in a condition not unlike spearmaster moon, though his decline has been steadier and over a longer period of time. They’ve been replaced by another iterator as group senior, and derailed your journey in the hopes of using a rare animal as collateral to get ISP’s help. Watching the remnant’s struggle to survive, however, he ends up very attached to it and can’t bring himself to kill it as he originally planned to.

Though they might want to, CTSS can’t save the remnant from a more insidious fate. The air, the soil, the water itself is toxic to you, whose kind has lived countless generations shielded from the heavy metal byproducts of industry and the artificial metabolisms of those great boxes in the sky. Ascension is an option, but so is going to ISP, whose body itself possesses a complex with artificial environments much like the one you began in. It can’t protect the remnant fully, but it can offer them a longer life. There are multiple endings to the campaign, based on the order you visit the iterators in.

If you read all this thank you so much and feel free to send questions!! About my little guys.

#mine #ruinart #rw #rain world #rain world oc #slugcat oc #..sort of #iterator oc #oc: the remnant #oc: ink stained psalms #oc: calls to stony skies

[warm-concrete]

Weapon & Wound.

Chapter 2

Astarion x Fem!Reader + Gale x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tav is a druid drow called Fawn.

Fawn gains attention wherever she goes. She's more than used to men that are troublesomely complimentary at best, wishing to revel in her death at worst.

So she's exasperated when she can't divert her attention from Astarion, who acts as though he'd like to do both and more.

Word Count: 6.7k

Ao3 Links: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Tags on Ao3. NSFW Snippet Below.

What a show.

Astarion had been awake all night, still not used to sleeping through it, despite all the battles he’d been dragged into that day.

It had been an incredibly dull evening, trapped with his thoughts by the rain. Usually he’d go find something to hunt and drink but, he wasn’t going to get drenched for animal blood, his hair would be ruined. 

Instead he focused on the one thing that didn’t involve the tadpole or Cazador. He thought about her. If he was honest, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Like the evening they’d spent gossiping, when she’d excitedly indulged his musings on their companions’ blood. It was a strange feeling, chatting casually, she almost seemed more comfortable than he was with his undead status.

Whenever she was close, which was constantly since he had apparently been included in her favoured group to go off exploring, he couldn’t help but become acutely aware of her smell. Her blood pumping, hidden by skin. It was becoming irksome, to know how she felt inside him, the effect her blood had in him. He desperately wanted more, but it wasn’t like he could just ask. 

He was growing better at hunting animals with each passing day. It was almost funny, how he was so practised in the art of luring people but, against the wilderness he was out of his element. Like he was just another predator on the food-chain. But he had to do it, their blood was the only thing stopping him from tearing Fawn apart. Gods! Even her stupid name temped him, teased him. 

After being starved for so long, he found that he didn’t like the feeling of being full. It was strange, unnatural, uncomfortable. It felt worse than the infinite hunger he’d been forced to nurture. Except that one night. Her blood was the exquisite exception.

For the second time in this century, his dick twitched on its own accord. This time, in the privacy of his tent, covered with the sound of the storm he grew curious. Besides he didn’t have any better plans and abstinence was unhealthy for a man of his condition, probably.

Astarion pulled his semi out from his leathers. He spat in his palm and reached for himself. Anything to have her in my mouth again. Her flesh; skin not so tough when warred with his jaw. He pumped slowly, with a strong grip. She’d nursed him drooling and panting and messy, dosing him, nourishing him. His breath hitched. He tried to picture spreading her open, instead he saw another’s legs. This was torture.  

But, he continued, fangs bared as he looked down as himself. His dick was pulsing, straining, dripping. His fist was hammering down, desperate for distraction, to loosen some tension. He was well versed in finding what made another tick, and yet. 

He tried closing his eyes, brow crumpled. A thought flashed; the drow climbing onto him. Yes. Grabbing his neck, tipping his head back. Gods, yes. An unexpected heat spread through him, he was leaking over his fingers. She drew a stake from where one arm had stayed behind her back, plunging it through ribs.

“Ueh.” He whipped his hand away from himself, shakily wiping his hand off over his chest, bare from where his shirt had ridden up. “Mood killer.” He announced to his messy confines. His dick still stood straight, aching for attention but, he was disinterested in what his body wanted. Blood, touch, heat, softness; always so needy, it was tiresome.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he lay still. He thought of thumbing through a book he’d picked up but remembered how incredibly dull its contents had been: ‘Thyme heals all wounds’. The spelling had been covered with a dark smudge when he grabbed it. He wasn’t amused when he’d sat expecting some hilariously awful publication, only to find infographics and illustrations about planting a garden of useful herbs. The rain had slowed from a pour, but was still constant, relentless. Although the thunder had grown sparse. 

Thats when he’d heard her.

#bg3 #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion #astarion x reader #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #bg3 gale #gale x tav

[monochromaticblue]

Today I bring you, shuake spiderverse au

Tomorrow? Who knows.

Adding a break bc I’m going to RAMBLE

Ren is the one who gets bit by the spider obv

Have yet to decide on a name for him, Joker doesn’t feel spidery enough and Phantom Spider seems too on the nose but.

Goro is a detective working on hunting down said spider person, who keeps flirting with him.

Ren was a former member of spider society before quitting bc Miguel sucks. But he did make some friends in the form of his pre-existing friends from other universes who are spider people too.

That sounded rlly confusing hang on.

The PTs in Rens universe all help him out behind the scenes but then there’s also universes where each of them is the spider in that universe, so Ren has two sets of friends who are the same people. One of the Futabas made an app that lets them travel between dimensions without alerting spider society.

I have ideas to make each of the palace people (-Futaba probably) a big villain that Ren has to face all while dodging the really pretty detective who wants to arrest him.

Until Ren isn’t the only spider in his own dimension. Enter Akechi once again, now working alongside Ren as his own maybe spider themed alter ego that I also haven’t named…

except he wasn’t bit by a radioactive spider, his suit is entirely tech made to mimic Rens abilities (Goros ass cannot do whatever a spider can) featuring a very fun little ai named Robin Hood who keeps commented on Goro’s elevated heart rate when he looks at Ren. Wonder why.

The two continue to work together alongside the other spider thieves up until Ren and Goro wind up on a mission alone together in a lab, the very same lab Rens spider came from, where everything goes wrong, they get separated for a bit but manage to make it out in once piece.

Goro starts acting different after this though, becoming more snappy and never seeming to be available, always spacing out too. Also, there’s a new terror said to be attacking people at night, leaving its victims without heads. (If you can guess where this is going ily)

Ren, worried about his partner in stopping crime, goes to visit Goros apartment one night only to find it entirely a mess, unfortunately he can’t stay for long since there’s screaming down the street. Upon investigating, Ren comes face to face with the very creature he was hoping he wouldn’t have to see.

A thing a whole foot taller than him with a black and white striped body that almost resembled his suit in a way. Ren honestly would have thought it was a suit if not for the giant fucking mouth full of teeth and the horns. After promptly beating the shit out of Ren, the creature proudly announces itself as Loki.

Haven’t exactly figured out how the reveal happens yet but I do very much enjoy the idea of Goro having his own version of the iconic “we are venom” scene from the movie.

But basically Goro joining up with Loki was always the plan. His reasoning for teaming up with Ren is the same as in the game and he yeaa he’s been working with Shido, the mayor, this entire time :D the lab was entirely planned aswell. What wasn’t planned was how much of an impact Loki would have on Goros mental state, but he’s fine. Totally.

Blah blah shit happens, Shido becomes a major threat and Goro finally teams up with the Inter-Dimensional Spider Team for real to help take him down. Things don’t go according to plan, there’s a lot of fire, Goro can’t use Loki and Ren fails to save him! Tada! Canon event!!! *cue Miguel’s theme or whatever*

I want to include third semester because I think it would be cool but I just. Can’t think of how to make it work. But it would result in Goro coming back and finally learning how to get along with Loki.

This has been haunting my mind for weeks every since my friend sent me a design of spider Akiren.

Alsooo since there’s an alternate universe where each of the thieves got spider powers

This also means there’s a universe where it’s Goro.

Why have I strictly been using Ren this entire time? Because Akira is the one in Spider Goro’s world, with his symbiot Arsene

He’s uh. A little fucked up.

Thank you for listening to the deranged ramblings of a mad man, see you next millennium

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #persona 5 au #goro akechi #ren amamiya #p5 #p5 au #joker p5 #akira kurusu #spiderverse #spiderverse au #venomkechi is something I have seen no one do #and I think we as a community need to talk about it more #Lokis equivalent to chocolate is pancakes btw #shuake #akeshu

[agonizedembrace]

A rapt knock to Evelynn's door comes first, then an undsteady voice of: "Mr. Baudelaire said you requested my presence, Ma'am....?"

In enters none other than Chelsea, the intern who's been the sole cause of many headaches today. On the shorter side, with wide brown eyes and dark hair tied up into a neat bun. At first glance, none would suspect any mishaps to occur from her.

Yet it is Evelynn who clicks her tongue, the golden of her eyes narrowing immediately on the young woman. It would take a fool to miss the irritation she presents, a single clawed digit tapping against a crossed arm along her chest. Her blouse remains messy, hardly buttoned appropriately and her skirt haphazardly snug to her waist.

"I did," she hums, but nothing in her voice is soothing. It is cold as she continues to stare down the intern, nostrils flaring with a deep breath. "Do you know why I called you, darling?"

Chelsea turns, glancing to the door. Strange as it seems to have close on its own accord. "N... no ma'am."

"Of course not." Evelynn all but hisses, shifting her position. Her legs gradually uncross as she lowers her jaw. "Darling, do you think before making purchases?"

A moment of hurt flashes on the woman's face, yet Evelynn is quick to cut her off.

"The answer is no, you do not."

The demon's movements are slow, calculated as she stands, arms that begin to unfold and reach for the folder that resides on the very desk she'd been sitting on. Evelynn takes no note of the horrified expression her intern wears, instead idly skimming the paperwork Robin had worked so dedicatedly on. She does this only for a moment, the room remaining eerie silent before a bone chilling laugh escapes her lips.

Sharp eyes find their way to the woman once more. "Oh, and here I was under the impression you were a good girl, Chelsea." With a fluid movement she tosses the folder to the intern, letting it fall flat on the floor. "Kneel for me."

"W-.. what?!"

"Kneel."

Without giving her a chance, Evelynn steps forward, a hand finding Chelsea's shoulder. There's a gasp, eyes that further widen as the inhumanity of Evelynn's strength shows and down goes the woman. The smile the vocalist wears is twisted, ever eerie as she shakes her head.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused, darling?" Now with a lower tone, Evelynn shifts her hand to cup Chelsea's jaw, forcing her to look up at her. The young woman is granted a view, perhaps entirely sinful as it is terrifying. "Oh, not only did you create such a hassle for dear Robin..."

Trailing off, Evelynn sighs and squeezes her hand, finding delight in the slight trickle of blood. She then coos, slowly bending over and granting an eyeful of her own cleavage. One that she knows is not ignored.

"... which then interrupted my private time with Akali."

"With Akali--"

Chelsea's head meets the ground before she can even utter another word. There's an undeniable look of anger that resides in the golden hues of Evelynn's gaze. "That is Miss. Tethi to you." Her hiss echoes within the room, a twitch to her lip as she steps forward. Soon a heel resides on top of the intern's stomach, pressing down ever slightly.

There's a cry that escapes the woman's mouth, frail and desperate. One that Evelynn feeds off.

"Here's the thing darling; not only did you make an unauthorized purchase -- which, by the way, did daddy always just buy you what you wanted?" Each word is spoken with certain venom, dripping further into a tritone demonic voice that once ago she's been known for. "You crossed the wrong people."

Finally Chelsea breaks out of some trance, Evelynn's charm not taking to its full effect just yet. "I didn't know ma'am! I.. I had thought I was using my personal funds!"

Evelynn says nothing, only shaking her head before she presses her heel further into the human. The scream she receives is nothing short of pleasurable, wholly enjoying the tears that form at the corners of her eyes. "But you did, dear. Robin knows to inform all interns that card is not for online purchases."

Lifting her foot, she steps to the side and kneels on top of her. Her smile continues to grow, far past anything human. Far past for dear little Chelsea to register anything as terrifying.

"You've been a bad girl, darling."

No stranger to the trembling hands that take to her waist, Evelynn lets a wild laugh loose before letting a hand trail up. One that soon brushes past Cheslea's collar, and taking hold at her neck. Now starts the fun part.

THEY ALWAYS SUBMIT IN THE END.

Greedy hands that begin to snake up, desperate to slide underneath her blouse. Blissfully unaware does Chelsea become, to lashers that gather form as Evelynn tightens her grip around her throat. Because oh, all that's on her mind is EVELYNN. How beautiful and hot she looks on top of her.

"You need a punishment," Evelynn whispers as she leans forward, letting the human greed further consume the woman beneath her. The touch on her skin is nothing close to satisfying -- always eager, and never truly appreciative. "Beg for it."

Plump lips that part, brown eyes awestruck of the demon who has her in such a grip. Unknown to the claws that continue to sink into her neck, to the blood that begins to pool around her. WHAT A HIGH, to be granted such a meal so soon.

"Please.." a frail voice, PAINED even. Evelynn hisses in delight, the free meal dripping within her grasp. "Please punish... me.."

Normally Evelynn would further make her beg, to prolong such a feast, but her irritation has gotten the better of her. The canal desire to make home to her girlfriend after this bitch ruined her moment. Her lashers strike first, piercing right into Chelsea's chest and electing SUCH A SCREAM. ONE THAT IS ENTIRELY DELICIOUS.

It is then, that blood sprays. The crimson liquid that begins to stain everything: the walls, floor, her clothes. Oh, the files too. She'll apologize later to Robin. She cares about the NOW, the way the pathetic intern thrashes, so desperate to cling onto her life. It is the DELIGHT in how her hand further clenches, completely blocking airflow. How hands that were once so eager on the demon's body, now hopelessly making attempts to get relief for air.

"SCREAM LOUDER FOR ME!"

Evelynn laughs at her own words, fully aware of how incapable the human is of doing so. Oh, she takes it all in. The way her lashers plunge further, piercing organs. How the pool of blood begins to run so deep. The frail attempts of reclaiming life, the UTTER AGONY this human gives. WHAT A TREAT.

She doesn't last much longer, between the literal chokehold and the fact Evelynn's pierced her lungs now, her air flow is gone. How her heart goes from such a rapid pace....

To a slow beat.

To nothing.

Agony.

A silence soon falls over the room, an eerie calm as Evelynn gradually releases her grip. Lashers that twitch, appearing almost happy as she further create a mess for the sake of it all. It is finally then, that the demon releases a breath she wasn't aware she was holding as she begins to stand.

Her heels are the sole noise in the room now, echoing off the walls as she approaches her desk once more. Instead of ill attempts of cleaning herself, she simply takes her spot once more on her desk, one leg over the other, and lets out a content sigh.

Needless to say, she is not startled by the ever dark rumble from the far corner of the room. The deep purring that seeming grows in volume, before followed by an equally low voice of: "Well done."

#» HATE AND LOVE ARE JUST TWO WORDS FOR PASSION ( IC ) #» V. { KDA } #» LOVE ME ( DRABBLE ) #tw: choking #tw: violence #uhh ask to tag bc it isn't... that bad i think but still #it's kinda fucked up in a way #anyways lets pour one out for the intern DSHJFKJSD #saluting dash and then opening league to play aram

[lunatriense]

Weiss

Weiss is my no. 2, even if she's been mishandled (especially with her early racism) and had her plots go nowhere. I identify with her in a lot of ways, I love her determination and caring (underneath the ice, of course), and I always like a graceful, elegant fighter. I also tend to like tsunderes and snarky characters, so there's that lmao.

Her early designs (Beacon and Snowpea) and the one from the mobile game that only ever released in China were great, and her v4-6 design was pretty good too imo, but I hate her giant pretzel braid and her recent design is just so cumbersome looking.

I feel like out of Team RWBY Weiss has had the most development, but that she's almost been a passive observer to much of it. Like, she changed early on of her own accord, and even up through v4, but since then her plotlines just happen around her without her really doing much, which is frustrating. She gets kidnapped by Raven and has to be rescued by Yang (with a very sweet reunion!) but their relationship doesn't go anywhere. She gets to Atlas and apologises about a mine, but never really confronts the SDC's continued misdeeds. When Jacques is finally dealt with, Weiss isn't the one who does it, not really; Willow is, handing Weiss all the evidence she needs out of nowhere. When RWBY and Ironwood clash, she simply goes along rather than trying to bridge the gap with the man who'd defended her when she had no allies and had seemingly tried to murder a socialite. Whitley uses the SDC ships to try and evacuate the Mantlites, not Weiss. Most of this taken on its own could be okay, but together it just leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and then the latest stuff they did with her in v9 even moreso. I will never, ever, ever get behind Weiss having any interest in Jaune after the way he harassed her in v1-2. That's such a toxic and disgusting message to put in a show, but what else should I expect out of CRWBY I suppose?

Want my opinion on a character? Ask me!

#rwde #answers #anti crwby

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

Music For the Soul by Alexander MacLaren

Power for the Faint

"He, giveth power to the faint. . . . Even the youths shall faint and be weary . . . but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint." — Isaiah 40:29-31

Earth knows no independent strength. All earthly power is limited in range and duration, and by the very law of its being is steadily tending to weakness.

But though that has a sad side, it has also a grand and blessed one. Man’s needs are the open mouth - if I may say so - into which God puts His gifts. The more sad and pathetic the condition of feeble humanity by contrast with the strength, the immortal strength of God, the more wondrous that grace and power of His, which is not contented with hanging there in the Heavens above us, but bends right down to bless us and to turn us into its own likeness. The low earth stretches, grey and sorrowful, flat and dreary, beneath the blue, arched heaven, but the heaven stoops to encompass, ay! to touch it. " He giveth power to the faint, and to them that have no might He increaseth strength."

All creatural life digs its own grave. " The youths shall faint with the weakness of physical decay, the weakness of burdened hearts, the weakness of consciously distracted natures, the weakness of agonizing conscience. They shall be weary with the weariness of dreary monotony, of uncongenial tasks, of long continued toil, of hope deferred, of disappointed wishes, of bitter disenchantment’s, of the learning the lesson that all is vanity, the weariness that creeps over us all as life goes on." All these are the occasions for the inward strength of God to manifest itself even in us; according to the great word that He spoke once and means ever: "My grace is sufficient for thee, and My strength is made perfect in weakness."

Isaiah did not know - or, if he did, he knew it very dimly - what every Christian child knows: that the highest revelation of the power of Him that " fainteth not, neither is weary," is found in Him who, "being weary with His journey, sat thus on the well," and, being worn out with the long work and excitement of a hard day, slept the sleep of the laboring man on the wooden pillow of the little boat amid the whistle of the tempest and the dash of the waves.

And Isaiah did not know - or, if he did, he knew it very dimly and as from afar - that the highest fulfillment of His own word - "He giveth power to the faint, and to them that have no might He increaseth strength "- would be found when a gentle voice from amidst the woes of humanity said: "Come unto Me! all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest Take My yoke upon you; and ye shall find rest unto your souls."

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober Day 14: Checkmate

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony​ for the prompt list! I’m considering putting these all up on AO3 after Beboptober is over—either as a single work with each oneshot as one chapter, or as a series with each oneshot as a separate work. What do you all think?

Ed’s love of chess had started around four years ago, with an anonymous donation that arrived at the Earth orphanage in a big cardboard box—probably some odds and ends from the home of someone who’d died, which no one could figure out what to do with. The children of the orphanage crowded eagerly around the box as Sister Clara unpacked its contents: a few long winter jackets for the bigger kids, some plates and china for mealtimes, a weird mechanical clock that no one could figure out how to operate. (This was given to Cain, who loved mechanical doodads and immediately began taking the thing apart.)

The last thing in the box was a wooden chessboard, with a small velvet drawstring bag containing the pieces. The whole set must have been decades old; its wood was chipped, the squares on the board were so faded that the black ones were nearly indistinguishable from the white, and several of the chess pieces were missing. It didn’t even connect to the net, as some boards did. Nevertheless, the kids descended upon it like ravenous beasts, fascinated by new things and desperate for some entertainment.

Some of them began to take the pieces and play pretend with them—little dot guys on horseback fighting atop horses to defend their castles—until Sister Clara stopped them. “Children!” she said in her most authoritative voice. “These aren’t dolls. This is a game of strategy. You capture each other’s pieces by moving your own pieces on the board a certain way, according to the rules.”

The moment she said the word rules, most of the kids lost interest. “I like my way better,” one grumbled as he walked away.

But to Clara’s vague surprise, Ed stayed. “Rules?” she asked, fingering a bishop and looking up at Clara with wide eyes. “What kinda rules?”

Of all the kids Clara had expected to be interested in playing chess, she wouldn’t have pegged Edward as one of them. The small, skinny nine-year-old, who had randomly wandered into the orphanage about a year ago, seemed to constantly be in motion—running or spinning or hanging upside down, exploring the orphanage’s nooks and crannies, and even rocking and humming in her quietest moments while working on her beloved computer Tomato. Clara vaguely associated chess with hoity-toity intellectualism and silence, two things that seemed the furthest from Ed that one could get.

But she appreciated the kid’s interest, so she did her best to explain. “Well, the black player and the white player each have sixteen pieces—I guess there’s supposed to be more than there are here—and you’re trying to capture the other guy’s pieces by jumping into their spot. You’re really trying to corner the other guy’s king, which is this tall piece here. That’s called ‘checkmate.’ That’s when you win.”

“Checkmate, checkmate,” Ed said, trying the word out in her mouth. It felt good. Decisive, triumphant.

“But each piece moves a different way to get to the others,” Clara continued. “The pawns can only go one square forward—except on their first turn, I think, and maybe also when they capture—and…I think the knight goes in a kind of…L shape? And bishops can only move diagonally…or is that rooks?” She shook her head. “Oh dear, I don’t remember all the rules. You might have to find them yourself. On that computer of yours.”

Luckily, Ed was good at that.

From her net-diving on her trusty Tomato, she quickly found an informational page listing all the rules of the game. Sister Clara read over her shoulder, nodding—“Oh yes, oh yes, I remember that—oh, so that’s how they move!”—and finally turned to Ed. “How about it? Want to try a game? I can remind you of the rules if you forget them.”

Sister Clara was a fast learner. But Ed was faster.

She’d committed all the rules to memory on her first read-through of the webpage. She wasn’t sure how. Somehow, they’d just stuck. And now that she knew where all the pieces were supposed to go and how to use each one, she was already imagining how they could be used in an actual game, hopping them around her mental chessboard: the bishop goes here, the pawn goes here, then the other pawn goes here…

The two of them set up the board, using rolled-up scraps of paper for the missing pieces. “You’ll just have to pretend this is a pawn,” Sister Clara said apologetically as she put one on the board. “Use your imagination.”

Luckily, Ed was good at that too.

As the two of them played, she found herself pretending she was the commander of a big army, trying to capture the king of the bad guys. She mentally gave them faces and personalities. The pawns were a bunch of little soldiers, steadily marching forward; the bishop was a sneaky spy, going all askew to reach its destination; the knight darted unpredictably all over the board. And Ed was in charge of it all. She felt a strange thrill in her heart at the idea.

The best part was that she could use her imagination to think a bunch of steps ahead—if she went here, then maybe Sister Clara could go here, and then Ed could go here and take that—and come up with moves her opponent would never be able to predict.

“Bing, bam, boom!” she said triumphantly, slamming down a white pawn. “Checkmate!”

Sister Clara looked surprised.

“That’s some remarkable beginner’s luck, Edward,” she said as she folded up the chessboard and put the pieces away. “I’m impressed.”

But Ed knew it was more than just beginner’s luck. She was good at chess, the way she was good at net-diving. It gave her a thrill of victory, of accomplishment, that fluttered in her chest, and she couldn’t help but giggle.

She wanted more.

Sister Clara quickly saw that she was nurturing a little chess genius, with an obvious passion for the game. The kid got the same twinkle in her eye when she played it that she got when she was doing who-knew-what on her computer. She learned and memorized moves with remarkable speed and acuity, often using Clara’s own moves from previous games against her. She could stay focused on it for remarkable periods of time, longer than Clara had ever seen any of these kids focus on, well, much of anything—sometimes even neglecting food and sleep.

And it was impossible to resent her when she won—she’d always giggle cheerily, but never meanly or in a gloating way, even though she was obviously aware of her own ability. One got the sense that she was simply happy to have played a fun game. Her joy bubbled up from inside of her, and Clara had to admit, it was infectious.

Her strategy developed in leaps and bounds—if you could even call it strategy. It was certainly unconventional. After all, it wasn’t like Ed read long analytical works on chess theory or even had access to them; if you mentioned the word “fianchetto” to her, she’d probably just stare in confusion (or, more likely, repeat it to herself a bunch of times and giggle). She just did what came to mind, and who knew what went on in that mind? But whatever she did, it worked. Incredibly well.

Ed always tried to play with the other kids at the orphanage, but when she tried to explain the rules of chess to them, they’d either get bored halfway through or confused by Ed’s unusual diction; either way, they’d usually leave. So most of her games were against Sister Clara or the occasional visitor to the orphanage, assuming they knew how to play. She maintained an undefeated record until the day she left.

Once, an old man who’d been visiting the orphanage threw his hat down on the floor in shock and outrage at the end of a game with her. He’d apparently never been defeated at chess in his entire life, and now this kid—this random skinny orphan, who bounced up and down and swung her limbs and hummed through the whole game, obviously not taking it seriously in the least—was the one to break that record? It was her humming, he declared to whoever in the orphanage was listening. That and her strange, nonsensical chants. It had distracted him, thrown him off course.

Ed grinned as she reset the chessboard. She knew it wasn’t that.

After a while, the few kids at the orphanage who did agree to play with her began to play less and less. “It’s no fun when you always win,” one of them had said. “It’s no fair,” another had agreed. Eventually, her games against other kids stopped entirely. She didn’t really mind. She still had Sister Clara, and sometimes she’d play against herself, just for the fun of it. She always won.

But she missed having opponents, trying to predict what they could do. She could always know what she was going to do. It got boring after a while, and Ed hated boredom more than anything.

She wished she had one of those holographic chessboards and a cartridge with some games in its memory, so she could play against opponents over the net. But it was a miracle that the orphanage even had a regular chessboard, and try as she might, she couldn’t scavenge even a broken holographic chessboard in the junk piles around her. So until she had access to that, it was more games against herself, in her mind.

Her passion remained stagnant for a while until one day, aboard the Bebop, she encountered a few things. A cartridge, found by Jet during a bounty hunt, in the shape of a chess king. A holographic chessboard, buried and forgotten somewhere on the ship until Ed found it and hooked it up for the first time (and nearly electrocuted herself in the process!). And, when she connected the cartridge to the board and the outernet, a player—a master, named Hex—looking for an opponent for a game of chess.

Luckily, Ed was really good at that.

#cowboy bebop #beboptober #beboptober 2022 #beboptober2022 #anime #bohemian rhapsody #radical edward #edward wong hau pepelu tivrusky iv #sister clara #chess #checkmate #textpost #fic #my fic #maya’s musings #maya’s masterpieces

[bllsbailey]

Calif: Food Chains Lay Off Workers, Begin To Raise Prices Before Minimum Wage Hike In April

In anticipation of a new $20 minimum wage law that will have a significant negative impact on food brands’ bottom lines when it goes into effect in April, a slew of fast-food restaurants in California are now beginning to fire employees and raise prices.

According to The Wall Street Journal, fast food restaurants, particularly pizza chains, and even higher-end food establishments have started to reduce staff in an effort to prepare for potential financial consequences.

Pizza Hut driver Michael Ojeda, 29, of Ontario, California, told the press that he was notified in December by Pizza Hut franchisee Southern California Pizza that his last day of employment would be at the end of February.

“Pizza Hut was my career for nearly a decade, and with little to no notice, it was taken away,” Ojeda said.

A handful of California-based Pizza Hut locations also announced last year that they were ending their delivery services in order to comply with the Worker Adjustment and Retraining Notification Act.

Southern California Pizza Co. said in December that it was laying off about 841 drivers statewide. Pizza Hut outlets in Los Angeles, Orange, San Bernardino, Riverside, and Ventura counties will be impacted most by the changes, sources say.

“Where select California franchisees have elected to make changes to their staffing approach, access to delivery service will continue to be available via Pizza Hut’s mobile app, website, and phone ordering, and the customer ordering experience will remain consistent,” a Pizza Hut spokesperson told the press.

According to a Journal article, Menlo Park, California-based Round Table Pizza said that it will be firing at least 73 delivery drivers this year as well. Excalibur Pizza LLC similarly stated that the majority of the workers being let go from its business are also delivery drivers.

“The franchisee is transferring their delivery services to a third party. While it is unfortunate, we look at this as a transfer of jobs,” the statement said. “As you know, many California restaurant operators are following the same approach due to rising operating costs. We anticipate third-party delivery providers in turn will see a boost in their businesses, which will require additional staff on their end.”

Fat Brands Inc., another large company that owns restaurants like Johnny Rockets, Hot Dog On A Stick, Fatburger, and Round Table Pizza, stated that the change may result in much higher delivery costs and higher prices for customers in general.

Brian Hom, who owns two Vitality Bowls restaurants in San Jose, California, said that he staffs his establishments with just two people rather than the customary four. Customers will now have to wait longer for service due to a staffing shortfall, and prices will rise to offset the higher labor expenses.

“I’m definitely not going to hire anymore,” he told reporters. 

Employees of fast food franchises with 60 or more locations around the U.S. are affected by the Newsom-approved wage law.

Additionally, contrary to what critics claim, many fast food business employees are not just teenagers who are working their first jobs. Many of them are hard-working mothers and fathers who have mouths to feed, so being fired from a job due to a statewide minimum wage hike is not ideal in any circumstance.

“Restaurants are struggling to stay above water, and Democrats just threw them an anvil,” said California Assembly Republican official James Gallagher. “We warned Democrats this new mandate would cost jobs. They ignored us, and here we are with the highest unemployment rate in the country, poised to get even worse.”

Chains that bake and prepare bread in-house to sell as a stand-alone menu item are excluded from the new regulation.  

“California is home to more than 500,000 fast-food workers who, for decades, have been fighting for higher wages and better working conditions. Today, we take one step closer to fairer wages, safer and healthier working conditions, and better training by giving hardworking fast-food workers a stronger voice and seat at the table,” Governor Gavin Newsom (D-Calif.) said.

However, Newsom failed to explain that a good portion of these employees would be cut from the work force and that prices would begin to climb higher and higher, putting many companies out of business.

Stay informed! Receive breaking news blasts directly to your inbox for free. Subscribe here. https://www.oann.com/alerts

[yhwhrulz]

Morning and Evening with A.W. Tozer Devotional for August 26

Tozer in the Morning Cleaning Out the Closets

Another question to put to yourself is, "Do I have any habits I am ashamed to let anybody know I have? Have I any personal habits that I am ashamed of? Do I hide something when the pastor is coming? If everything were known in the church about how I lived, would I go back to church?" You can dodge this, twist it around and answer evasively, but the snow will lie on your heart. If you answer God honestly and go to work to get rid of it and clean it up, springtime will come for you. Then ask yourself, "Is my speech clean?" One of the most shocking things in the church is the dirty-mouthed Christian who always walks on the borderline. There is no place for borderline stories that embarass some people, and there is nothng about sex or the human body that is funny if your mind is clean. There was once a gathering of officers, and George Washington was present in the room. One of the young officers began to think about a dirty story that he wanted to tell, and he got a smirk on his face. He looked around and said, "I"m thinking of a story. I guess there are no ladies present." Washington straightened up and said, "No, young man, but there are gentlemen." The young officer shut his mouth and kept the dirty story inside his dirty head and heart. Anything you could not tell with Jesus present, do not tell. Anything you could not laugh at were Jesus present, do not laugh at.

Tozer in the Evening Praise Reporters

The irrepressible urge to share spiritual blessings can explain a great many religious phenomena. It even goes so far as to create a kind of vicarious transfer of interest from one person to another, so that the blessed soul would if necessary give up its own blessing that another might receive. Only thus can that prayer of Moses be understood, Oh, this people have sinned a great sin, and have made them gods of gold. Yet now, if thou wilt forgive their sin-; and if not, blot me, I pray thee, out of thy book which thou hast written (Exodus 32:31,32 ). His great care for Israel had made him incautious, almost rash, before the Lord in their behalf. Moses felt that for Israel to be forgiven was reward enough for him. This impulsive uprush of vicarious love can hardly be defended before the bar of pure reason. But God understood and complied with Moses request. The intense urge to have others enjoy the same spiritual privileges as himself once led Paul to make a statement so extreme, so reckless, that reason cannot approve it; only love can understand: I say the truth in Christ, I lie not, my conscience also bearing me witness in the Holy Ghost, that I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh (Romans 9:1-3 ). In the light of this it is quite easy to understand why all great Christian teachers have insisted that true spiritual experience must be shared. The careless person who remarks that he does not need to go to church to serve God is far from understanding the most elementary spiritual truths. By cutting himself off from the religious community he proves that he has never felt the de ep urge to share-and for the very reason that he has nothing to share. He has never felt the constraining love of Christ, so he can go his way in silence. His withdrawal from the believing fellowship tells us more about him than he knows about himself. Being let go, they went to their own company. So it was in the Early Church and so it has always been when men meet God in saving encounter. They want to share the blessed benefits.

Copyright Statement This material is considered in the public domain.

[lianahayze]

Shadow and the Midnight Misery: Chapter 14

Masterlist

Nothing to say; let's get to it!

Chapter 14. Then... nothing

With it being common for celebrities to seek treatment, there is little surprise at seeing the twenty-two-year-old rockstar turn herself in. Her father, lead singer of the 90s alt-band The Nixers, did his own stint in rehab for a slew of drugs, including heroin. It is unknown why she checked herself in, but according to its website, the Garver Institute “specializes in alcohol and drug addictions.” At the time of publication, Shadow Greere has declined to comment.

Bottle pressed to my lips, I chug. The more I drink, the more I can forget. And boy am I trying to forget.

The article came out yesterday, and I can’t even begin to guess how many times I've already read it. It starts out great. There is a piece about the new studio, a section about how I want the band to go our own way. But then Garver was brought up and it got real bad real fast.

The pictures are slightly grainy and had clearly been taken at a distance. However, they're not grainy enough for me to even pretend that that it’s not me. Everything in the pictures give it away: my hair, the clothes I'm wearing, a general scowl. All of it is one hundred percent me, and anyone is going to be able to tell.

The guys have seen it. I’m certain they have. They've called me a couple of times, but I haven't picked up. I'd rather wallow in self-pity. Dean’s not big on social media, so he probably hasn’t seen it yet. Always a day or two beyond, I have some time before he finds it. Either way, I'm fucked.

I did not want this to get out. I'd been hoping I could just sweep it under the rug and be done with it. Continuing to meet with Dr. Norris is fine, but having all of my dirty laundry aired out for anyone to see? No, it's an absolute nightmare.

I should have said something to Larissa. I could have made up any bullshit excuse. Hell, I could have said I was visiting or even fucking volunteering and that last paragraph would sound completely different. But, instead, I'd freaked out. I’d done this to myself.

I stop drinking for a moment. I haven't binged like this in a while and my body knows it. There's going to be hell to pay in a few hours, but, right now, I don’t care. Right now, I desperate to forget.

I switch to another bottle. It's new and takes me several seconds to open. I sway before I finally break the seal. The bottle firmly attached to my mouth, I walk out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Though I don't plan on staying in here, I turn on the TV. I need noise. The silence in the house is killing me. I turn up the volume before tossing the remote onto the couch. I walk out into the hallway.

Ugh, has there ever been a time when I haven't fucked something up? Maybe that's why the guys wanted me to put away: not because I'm a danger, but because I'm such a massive fuck up. I get it now.

I go upstairs. Not bothering to turn the lights on, I crawl into bed. I almost drop the bottle in my hand but catch it at the last moment. I continue drinking from it, chugging so quickly that it makes my brain hurt.

Everyone is going to be talking shit about me. Even more than they already do. I can't face the internet right now, but part of me is curious. I need to know what they're saying, and I need to know what I'm up against. I'm not the first celebrity whose mental health issues have been exposed, but it still hurts. I’ve been reduced to a headline and a cheap article?

My phone dings but I don't bother checking it. I want to smoke a joint. I want to smoke and drink and pass out. I don't know where my purse is, though, and that's where all my weed is. Is probably in the room somewhere, but I don't care enough to try to find it. Instead, I just keep drinking.

My phone goes off again. I follow the light from the screen, reaching across the bed to grab it. I squint as I look down.

Oh, I have missed calls. And a lot of texts. It's a good thing I have all my notifications turned off for social media because that would probably be blowing up my phone now too.

I look at the text notifications but don't actually open the messages. Most of them are from the guys, but, as I expected, there's nothing from Dean. Good. I should reach out to him and just tell him myself, but I don't think I'm going to. After all, I already had my chance to tell him; instead, I’d spent the entire time complaining about the band.

I check the calls. Most of them are from Wyatt. He's called me five times in total, the last one coming just a few minutes ago when I'd been downstairs deciding which liquor to get into. Maybe they’ve decided that he's the one who’s going to fire me.

I go through my texts from him. There are a lot of them with just one or two words, but it's the last one that really catches me off-guard.

About 5 mins away. At your house soon.

I stare at it. Not trusting my eyes, I read over it again, but still don’t think it’s right. There’s no way he’s trying to come see me right now.

Putting the bottle on the floor, I text him back:

Not here.

I stare down at the screen. A second later he says,

Yeah u are. Pulling up your street

I frown. Seriously, can't this wait until tomorrow?

Knowing that my front door's locked, I decide to get comfortable. He won't be able to talk to me if he can't get in, and there's no way I'm answering the door.

My phone goes off again. I groan and read.

He's here. Great. Just great.

When I don't respond, he sends,

Open the front door.

I huff. I don't want to talk to him; is that really so hard to understand?

Busy.

No you're not. Open the door.

Not interested.

Shadow, don't make me call the cops. I NEED to see that you're okay.

I bolt up. If he calls the cops, I’ll be back at Garver in a heartbeat, only this time it probably won’t be so easy to get out. "Fuck’s sake," I mutter, "fine." Standing up, I drop my phone on the pillow, pick the bottle back up, and slowly head downstairs.

Wyatt's finger is firmly on the doorbell when I answer. He looks down at me, surprised. I move out of the way, letting him in.

He shuts the door behind himself. "You're drinking right now?" he asks, louder than he needs to be. "Shadow, what the hell are you doing?"

"Feeling sorry for myself." I smile up at him. Feeling light on my feet, I lean against the wall. "Throwing myself a party. Whatever you want to call it, but you weren't invited."

"So, you know about the article then?"

"Hmm."

"I can't believe they printed that without telling you." When I tell him that I knew, he gasps. "You just let them?"

"No. But I didn't tell them no."

He stares at me. I can tell that he knows he in over his head and doesn't know what to do. Pissed off, angry Shadow he can deal with; pitiful pathetic Shadow he cannot.

I take another drink.

"Can you... Can you not do that right now?" He yanks the bottle from my hand. Some of the vodka spills onto the floor, causing me to say,

"Hey! Stop making a mess!"

He walks into the kitchen. I follow behind but it takes a while because my legs feel like jelly. When I finally do get to him, he's opening up all the cabinets, saying, "Where's all your booze?" I giggle. "Fuck, Shadow, I'm serious. Now is not the time to go on a bender."

"Oops." Seeing him freak out makes me laugh. It's actually very funny. Him and the other guys have been trying to control my narrative for so long and he's panicking now that he can't. It's the ultimate karma.

He walks over to me. I'm swaying as I look up at him, and he puts his hands on my arms. As he steadies me, I realize I don’t want to be standing up; laying down would be so much better.

"How much did you drink?" he says. It's a good question, but I don't answer. He gives me a slight shake. "Shadow. How much?"

He's acting like he's never seen me drunk before, but nothing could be further from the truth. How many late nights did we have after concerts, passing around bottle after bottle? I have a pretty good tolerance, but he could drink me under the table. Maybe I'm not the one who should have gone to Garver.

"You're not supposed to drink when you're depressed."

Depressed? Who said anything about being depressed? I am finnnnnne.

"Have you still been drinking and doing drugs this entire time?"

Holding back a laugh, I say, "My body, my choice."

"This is not a joke! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"My doctor thinks I'm not a danger, and we can trust my doctor. Right? After all, everyone wanted me to go see one. Remember?"

Leading me over to the table, he sighs. He tried to get me to sit in one of the chairs, but I instead choose the floor. "We wanted you to see a doctor because we were worried about you. Your cocaine habit has gone through the roof." Then, almost so quietly that I can't hear, he adds, "Apparently we should have been more worried about your drinking."

Having been kneeling in front of me, he stands back up. Continuing to go through my cabinets, he says, "We already spoke with the label. As soon as we saw it, we got on the phone with them. We wanted you to join the conversation, but you never answered your phone." He looks over his shoulder at me. "Now I can see why."

He's judging me and I can't decide whether to let it go or complain about it. Stomach pressed against the tile, I spread out on the floor like a starfish. It gets uncomfortable really quick, though, and I flip to my back. The sudden motion makes the contents of my stomach slosh around.

"I don't know what to do with you." I look over at him. "We want you to get better. When we rescheduled that interview, we thought..." I see him shake his head. "I know it's important for you--We know talking about the band is important to you." He pauses. "Even if the spread was entirely about you."

"So, you're not mad about the studio?"

He shakes his head, and I'm surprised. This is the most honest conversation we've had in a while without yelling. I should say something but can’t come up with anything.

"We just want to know what was wrong with your dad's studio, but other than that it's fine."

"Too many bad memories. Can't go there anymore."

"Because we told you that you needed help?"

"And cornered me with a doctor." I turn onto my other cheek so that I'm facing away from him. "It wasn't fair."

I hear him sigh, but he doesn't say anything. I hear the heels of his boots walking across the tile, coming towards me. A few seconds later, arms crossed, he stands over me. I don't move but look up at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Look," he says, "you can be pissed about it. I get that you're pissed about it. But we tried to bring it up before and you just weren't listening."

I frown. "No, you never brought it up."

"Yes. We did. Several times. You might have just been high, and we couldn’t tell. But we did bring it up."

He walks away, leaving on my own. I wonder if what he's said is true. Had they actually mentioned it before? If they had, why don't I remember it? And if he was right and I had been high, what does that say about me?

It means I have a problem.

Standing up, I go over to the counter. Wyatt's placed the bottle of vodka that I'd had earlier by the sink. I look around but don't see him. I'm not sure where he's gone, but, not wanting to wait for him to return, I pick up the bottle, bring it to my lips, and drink. I'm so engrossed in getting as much alcohol in my system as possible that I don't hear him return until,

"Shadow!" He yanks the bottle away. Before I can stop him, he tips it upside down and the vodka pours down the sink.

"Hey!" I start to reach for it, but he holds me back.

"Do not try my patience right now."

He's being obnoxious; why won’t he let me have a little fun?

"Why are you even here?" I ask him. "I didn't ask you to come." Plus, I'd been doing fine on my own. I'd been enjoying sitting in the dark; it made my head hurt less.

"I'm here to take care of you, apparently, because you weren't answering your phone."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"I beg to differ. When did you eat last?"

I frown. "Why, do I look fat, or something?"

"You've never looked fat a day in your life." He sounds annoyed as he speaks. "But you need to eat." I tell him I'm not hungry. "I don't care," he replies. "You need food in your system."

"Usually, I just do cocaine when I'm hungry." He looks at me like I'm crazy. "What? I don't have to stop what I'm doing to eat, and it keeps me in shape." He gives me a look over. "Duh."

"Shadow, when people talk about ‘getting in shape,’ that’s not code for developing a drug habit."

He goes to open the fridge, but he won't have much to work with. I haven't gone grocery shopping in a while, so everything that's in there is probably at least a few weeks old.

"Wow, slim pickin’s around here, huh?" He closes the fridge. Pulling out his phone, he says, "What do you want to eat? I'm going to have Ethan stop."

"Stop where?"

"Stop at the store or get takeout. He's on his way over here. So is Dave."

My heart stops. They're coming over here, too? Right now? I shake my head in disbelief. "Tell them not to come."

"They're already on their way."

I continue to shake my head. "No! I do not need a fucking intervention in my own home!" I'm panicking, ready to kick or punch him.

He puts his hands up, saying, "Shadow, we're not trying to intervene on anything. We're just checking on you."

But I don't believe it.

Abruptly turning away from him, I storm out of the kitchen. Well, I storm out the best I can. My legs are wobbly and my head is spinning and my breathing is shallow, but I storm off. Wyatt calls for me, but I ignore him. Maybe if I barricade myself in my room before the other two get here, they'll eventually just give up and leave. Can't have an intervention if they can't see me.

I stumble into my room. I press my body against the door for a moment, blinking slowly. Why is the room spinning? Doing my best to disregard the movements, I lock the door and go straight over to my bed.

I fall onto it face first. It’s pretty comfortable, so I don't move. It's only when I realize that I'm having trouble breathing that I shift onto my side.

My stomach doesn't feel so great. When I rub my hands over my middle, it only makes it worse. I close my eyes and groan. I curl up and lay like that for who knows how long. It's probably just a couple of seconds, but it's enough for me almost to fall asleep.

The only reason I don't is because of a loud thump at the door.

"Shadow! Unlock the door!"

I cover my ears. Why is he shouting? Doesn't he know it's making me feel even worse?

Wyatt keeps pounding on the door. "I seriously just came over here to check on you! The other guys just want to check on you too. We're not kicking you out of the band or whatever other conspiracy theory you have in your head."

If I do have any conspiracy theories, it's because they put them there.

"Seriously. You don't need to be alone right now."

He's wrong. Being alone is exactly what I need.

I continue to try my best to ignore him. He makes it hard, though, and I eventually grab onto a pillow, pressing it over my head. It makes my skull hurt, but I'd rather feel that than listen to Wyatt.

Eventually, though, the pounding stops. I pull down the pillow and look cautiously over at the door. I sit up; there's complete silence. Being as quiet as I can, I get out of bed and tiptoe over to the door. I lean forward and listen, but still, I hear nothing.

Maybe he's just pretending he's not there anymore to trick me into opening the door. "Wyatt?" I say. He doesn't answer. Slowly, I unlock the door, crack it open just an inch, and look outside.

He's not there. Opening the door all the way, I step out into the hallway. Wyatt is nowhere to be found. Confused, I lean against the wall. Where did he go? Did he just give up? It that's the case, the least he could have done is said goodbye.

"Wyatt?"

He doesn't respond. When I toddle down the hall, I suddenly realize why.

Standing at the top of the stairs, I hear the front door opening, Wyatt standing in front of it. In walk Ethan and Dave.

I start to make my way down the stairs.

"Get out of my house!" I yell, causing them to look up. They’re alarmed, but I don't care. "I'll call the police!"

Dave, smug as ever, doesn't buy it. "You're going to call the police on the people who came to check on you?"

"Not now Dave," says Wyatt.

"Fuck off!" I yell at them. "I didn't ask you to come here; I don't want you here. Leave. Me. Alone!"

"You don't mean that, Shadow."

I turn to Ethan. I'm still on the stairs, gripping the banister, so I have to look down at him. He looks tired, more tired than I feel. "Ethan, if you had any common sense, you'd ditch these two. All they're going to do is complain and gang up on you and ruin your whole entire life."

Dave starts to say something, but Wyatt stops him.

"No, go head. What did you want to tell me?"

"He doesn't want to tell you anything," says Wyatt. "We just came to see how you were after the article."

"I feel like shit. I think it's obvious." I start to walk towards them. I'm about halfway down the stairs now, and, looking at all of them in turn, I say, "I need a drink."

None of them seem amused. They move to block the way. I get down to the bottom step and try to push passed them but they're stronger and I fail.

"Move," I say. When they don't, I repeat myself, this time with more force. "Move!"

Ethan asks me how much I've had to drink but I ignore him. They're not my parents; I don't have to answer to them.

Wyatt attempts to reach for me, but I push his hands away. I almost lose my footing, but Dave catches me. I yank myself out of his grasp.

"Shadow," says Wyatt, "you need to calm down. Let's find a place to relax. You're going to drink water and I'm going to order you food."

I don't like his plan--and not just because he's talking to me like I'm a child.

I shake my head. "No."

I start back up the stairs, but he reaches for me. This time his grasp is strong, and I can feel a bruise forming on my wrist. I try to wriggle away but can't. Either he's been working out or I'm way more inebriated than I thought.

It doesn't stop me from continuing to pull away. I tell him to let me go, but he doesn't. I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge. All the while, he's asking me to stop moving but all I want to do is run away. It gets so bad, that, as I'm yelling and pulling, my foot slips, I lose my footing, and go flying.

Only this time, no one catches me.

I crash against the stairs, first my arms, then my shoulder. I cry out in pain, looking up at the guys. They look horrified, but I can't keep my focus on them for too long. Soon, everything goes blurry and my vision cuts in and out.

Then... nothing.

-

This is probably one of my favorite chapters I've written for this story so far. Thanks for reading.

-L.H.

#writing #writer #writblr #novel #novelist #free story #free novel #free fiction #fiction #music novel #music story #satmm #shadow and the midnight misery

[herdeardiaryy]

devotion 45

"The lips of the righteous feed many: but fools die for want of wisdom."

Proverbs 10:21

What comes from our mouth is very powerful. I remember my Mom's sermon when I was still in the Philippines, she spoke about the power of tongues, saying that the words that come out from our mouth can either bring life or death, which is really true. If we speak beautiful words, it come out wonderful not only for ourselves, but for the ones that we've been talking to, same goes if we speak bad words.

I too, speak bad words before, but now that I'm realizing the consequences of my actions, I lessen doing it. Even in my actions, instead of being pissed off and say things that might be a regrets for me later on, I'll take a deep breath and will stay quiet (but my face will say it all haha), but sometimes we cannot really control ourselves when needed.

In this verse, it teaches me to be more watchful to my mouth, because we don't know how people can interpret the words came out, and not only ourselves can understand it. It says here that, "...but fools die for want of wisdom.", people have lack of wisdom because of innocence, ans by innocence, people ended up just approving on everything they have heard even if they don't understand what people just said. And I admit, sometimes I am like this, because my mind cannot accept words anymore for being tired and I think that's the other thing.

Let us be careful on the words that we are using, it might be satisfying and gave us confidence of our own, but let us also think on someone else's point of view, and that depends on the situation. Because sometimes being so careful to the words ended up taking advantage of, and that's not even fair. Let us also use our mind before our mouth do its thing.

Let us not be fooled on the things around, it is not bad to be on trend or to do whatever we want, but be careful. Also, let us not agree too easily on the things because we can be judged as a fool for agreeing in everything without using our mind.

This is my prayer:

"Lord, thank You for this wonderful day that You have given to us. Thank You, Lord, for giving us blessings that we can enjoy and give back to You the Glory. Father, in this verse of the day, may You help us to be more careful not only on the things we say, but also to the actions that we may take. Give us more patience, oh God. Do not let us be fooled by someone or anything else, Lord. Help us get through with everything that we are currently taking. Forgive us, Lord, if there are times for today that we speak and move not according to Your ways. Forgive us, Lord, if You see us uncontrollable, forgive us. I am asking for Your forgiveness, God, and change it into something that made You glad. Thank You, Lord God, I receive blessings from You God, You are indeed Faithful and Majestic, Lord. Thank You, Jesus, thank You so much. I am asking for the protection for my family in the Philippines, Lord, and I thank You for giving away Your provisions to my Sister and Brother-in-law. Continue to heal my Father in his heart disease and diabetes, Lord. I declare healing upon healing, in Jesus Name. I declare Strength and success to our family and friends. I declare financial stability and savings, in the Name of Jesus. Thank You for giving us authority to get closer to You, Lord, thank You.

Everything I pray and asked, I'm lifting them up to You, Lord, in the Mighty Name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior,

Amen."

210823 | 23:03

#devotion #Spotify

[caffeine-n-words]

So, I got a very oddly bitter article in my inbox this morning, from a person I normally enjoy and usually talks about fandom drama. Except this wasn't about fandom drama, this was about indie authors.

Note: I am not a romance author. I write mainly fantasy, and a few forays into soft sci-fi exist on my hard drive. However, some of the best writing advice I've seen and the most encouragement I've gotten has come out of romance circles.

Before I continue, please read the article here. Like I said, normally I like JD's fandom takes, so if you read a few of her other articles and enjoy them, I'd say she's worth subscribing to.

JD opens with Susan Meachen's scam, which has been two years in the making--the indie romance author faked her own death, got free crowd-sourced editing on her last manuscript before she "died," received donations for her "funeral," and then popped up on Facebook two years later. Someone claiming to be her daughter had posted to the group originally, saying she had been bullied into suicide.

I'm not going to go into the whole thing. JD's article links a few articles, including a Buzzfeed one about the whole thing.

JD talks about Meachen's victims looking into what, if anything, they could do, and then veers into how scams and drama are not uncommon in indie romance.

Okay, yeah, that's true. It's the law of numbers--there are more indie romance authors than any other genre, so scams appear more often. What JD does not acknowledge is that there are also scams in the other genres. Maybe she felt it was unnecessary?

JD clearly doesn't like romance as a genre, because she calls trad pub romance "comfortingly predictable and soothingly boring." Which. I hate to be the one to point this out, but. That's a pretty recent development. And ignores trad pubbed erotic romance entirely. Because apparently, according to her, that's the realm of indie romance.

I'm going to point out here that both the "comfortingly predictable and soothingly boring" books and the "just on the edge of acceptable" books are in both trad and indie.

JD then goes on to say indie romance is also where we go to see some "major foot-in-mouth disease," and lists things like "spend more time talking about writing than actually writing," "filing the numbers off fanfictions, full on plagiarism scandals," and "trying to explain the legendary romance novelist Nora Roberts." And that trad romance has its drama, but it "doesn't hold a candle" to what indie romance comes up with. She ends by saying the only writing community with more audacity and bullying is fandom writing.

Let's break that down a bit.

The law of numbers, again--yes, those things appear more in the romance genre. But again, they appear anywhere. It looks like there's more of them in romance, because technically there is...because there are more romance authors than any other genre. And they also all happen in trad with astonishing frequency, they're just better covered up.

That said, the only bad thing on that list (disregarding "major foot-in-mouth disease" for a moment) is the plagiarism scandals.

"Spend more time writing than actually writing." Heaven forbid they talk about writing? I'm not sure why this is being lumped in with everything else. Writers share writing advice. That's not a bad thing. They talk about things they did, what worked, what didn't, suggest what you can try, and they don't necessarily care if you're also a romance author. That doesn't mean they aren't writing, which is the very strong implication JD gives.

"Filing serial numbers off fanfictions." Again, this also happens in trad romance. Actually, the worst examples have been barely-edited trad books. Usually when I see fanfics being indie published, it's both plagiarism and an obvious scam--they've stolen someone's fanfic and are looking to make a quick buck--and they're not just romance. But downloading and re-uploading someone else's book doesn't make you a writer or an author, and again, since it isn't just romance, I'm not sure why this is being laid at indie romance's feet. It's not exactly super common for indie authors to reskin their fanfics as their mainstay; they do it with the one they think people would like the most, and then write original stuff from there.

"Trying to explain the legendary romance novelist Nora Roberts." This one was...eyebrow raising. Because if you read the article, you'll see JD calls someone who does this a "blithering Karen." It's not unusual for indie authors, especially indie romance authors, to try to figure out how to write more and/or more quickly. Successful authors need to keep their books in front of readers' eyes, and they need a backlist. This is widely acknowledged, and the best way to do both of these is to write, edit, etc., the next book and get it up there as quickly as possible. It's called "rapid releasing" (and if you would like me to explain that in more detail, let me know!). Nora Roberts is trad, but she writes quickly and has more frequent releases than anyone else. Honestly, I can't think of anyone who might have written and released more as a trad author of any genre, romance included. But also, I don't think I've seen anyone try to "explain" her success so much as share her own writing advice. There's nothing wrong with sharing that advice, so I'm not sure why JD's so offended here.

"Major foot-in-mouth disease." Yes, people will clash in the indie romance community. There's more of them so of course it's more visible there. These clashes happen in every writing community and every genre. Actually, there's a lot of drama that happens in the sci-fi community; you just don't usually see it because there isn't as much interest in sci-fi.

It's pretty clear that JD doesn't like indie romance. There's nothing wrong with that. But blithely ignoring the same problems in trad romance, or other genres (indie or trad) is a little unusual. There's also a lot here that aren't actually problems, but are being presented as such. And considering that she ignores these things happening in trad circles and other genres, I can only conclude that these are standards she only holds for indie romance authors.

And that? Is a problem.

#indie publishing #traditional publishing #fanfiction #romance writing #susan meachen #writing community #writblr #cw sui mention #meachen scam #double standards #bullying mention #indie romance