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book-extravagance · 1 year

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2023 BRF Predictions (from a Rookie Royal Watcher)

Going way out on a limb here, because predictions are never fun unless you do.

1. Archewell makes its social media debut on a POC-founded Twitter alternative.

2. Anti-Diana Youtubers have a Hot Moment with a breakout viral video. When the creator gets profiled in 2024 we discover that they broke into the 100,000+ bracket in income the year before.

3. George does an engagement with William. (He answers like two questions clearly and creditably. British royalists explode with admiration for this incredible exploit. I am underwhelmed, but concede that it was nice.)

4. Buckingham Palace releases a 3-page refutation nitpicking not-terribly-essential quotes from Harry's memoir. This causes the entire legal staff, such as it is, to have a collective coronary, but Charles is determined.

5. The press arse-kissing leading up to Charles's coronation is nauseating. (Okay, so I have one safe bet.) They emphasize how much he's a man of the people and also how many black clients friends he has. Some RR reporter writes an op-ed on how Charles is akshually far more anti-racist than Harry and Meghan.

6. Charles does bestow the Edinburgh duchy on Edward, shortly before the coronation. I'd say one month. Kingly sense of noblesse oblige and all.

7. a. What I'd like to see happen for the coronation: Harry and Meghan stay home. (They might not even get an invite, because I think Charles would work it out with them that if they intend to decline, he won't send it. Whatever. H & M are pleased to have no more to do with the dumpster fire.) Charles tells Andrew to stay home too. (Andrew throws a temper tantrum that will be related with great gusto in royal biographies years down the road.)

b. What I think will happen: Harry goes to the coronation because he's a glutton for punishment he has a misplaced, battered, yet still-operant sense of filial duty and Crown veneration... and Meghan goes to stand by her man. Fuckin' Andrew is there too, because Charles is already considered too much a wild-eyed radical and he needs the support of the worst dregs of the aristotrash, who all think Andrew has been rather mistreated.

We all know who the press spills more ink analyzing and digging up dirt on.

8. A would-be regicide gets arrested before the coronation. The government and press use this to beat the royalist drum harder than ever. There are grave op-eds about the danger that the royal family faces in these troubling times of social media radicalization.

Will and Kate brief that they will be making fewer public appearances due to security concerns. (Charles is rumored to be Unamused.)

9. Kate looks bloody stunning at the coronation and/or wears a new tiara.

10. Camilla also looks the part. Very shiny.

11. Kate astounds and impresses us all by doing two solo foreign visits. At least one is European. Similar to the time she went to Denmark and appeared with Mary.

12. Season 2 of Archetypes features a genuinely tone-deaf moment (more tone-deaf than having Andy Cohen and Judd Aptow on for the grand finale). Press is fuckin' gleeful.

13. Someone publishes a questionable tell-all about Elizabeth's final days.

14. Charles has a health scare. Maybe planned surgery with a longer-than-expected recovery. He pulls through well in the end, but not after the papers have enjoyed running hundreds of articles speculating about what an early William ascension would look like.

(Spoiler alert: They all reckon it looks like a Tory's wet dream! But they don't say it in those words, of course.)

15. A Twitter account pops up, tracking either William's or Harry's itinerary & flights. If it's William, it's taken down pronto and there is much hang-wringing about the invasiveness of the press. If it's Harry, it stays up and, bonus! Musk has a truly hilarious reason to explain why.

16. Meghan appears at a very political gala. Probably not Biden but a high-ranking Democrat, like Pelosi. Americans are pretty shrug because Meghan's giving Last Year's News at that point, but the UK press goes into a complete meltdown.

17. An unnamed victim brings another suit against Andrew. The British press has significantly less to say about this than a financially independent American going "partisan" four years after the UK establishment pretty unambiguously told her to piss off and die. It's settled quietly. Charles manages to avoid it officially getting out that he pays the settlement until 2024.

18. There is chatter from "palace sources" that Charles is considering having Beatrice do some engagements in order to bring some youth and glam to the rota. The only ones considering this are some courtiers, and the "chatter" goes nowhere because neither Charles nor Bea want this.

19. Another big story from "palace sources" is that Kate has also been struggling with depression, etc (or possibly a miscarriage). The narrative is that Kate herself would never dream of telling anyone about this or ever speaking in public but her dearest friends want to speak out because people who exemplify grace never get credit... Kate is so brave and she's so relatable and also this is how you deal with mental health problems, Harry and ME-AGAIN!!1!!! Keep calm and carry on without a pity party, like an ADULT! Will and Kate allow this narrative to stand (because of course; it came from them), thus doing real damage to the public perception of mental illness and how to best treat it. Otoh, the press goes to town crowning Kate the and Patron Saint Princess of Ordinary People Struggling with Mental Health. (The press does not mention Kate's previous claim that she's never suffered depression because of how wonderful her upbringing was.)

20. Harry and Meghan's popularity in the US spikes around the time of the Spare release and then they get a little stale in 2023. Ironically, the hundreds of references to their "falling star" or "loss of luster" in (American) media actually helps keep their brand pumped up.

21. They come in strong with the unveiling of a big Archewell initiative in December, though. It's been underway all year and they're only spiking the football once they get results. They bring some charity to international prominence with this event. (I can't possibly hazard a guess as to what kind of initiative or event. One thing I seriously respect the Sussexes for—their humanitarian work is creative, authentic, never cookie-cutter. So I'll wait and see.)

22. British papers and news programmes, without directly referencing William, start pushing the narrative that "Open Relationships" might be Okay, actually? Some are skeptical, but! Experts say they're hip and relatable, but also traditional, and they've long been the well-kept secret to a healthy long marriage!! (Obviously I don't have anything against consensual open relationships. But the purposefulness of this Engineered Cultural Moment will be hard to miss.)

23. And you know what this means! Earthshot in Sydney, baby!! Oceania tour time, bitches!!! All three kids, cute as a three-buttoned coatdress!!!? Let's gooooo.

Big splashy Wales moment, it gets good play in mainstream press. Louis behaves fine for his age but gets side-eyed for a random look on his face as it appears in one photo.

24. I think Charles will be able to refrain from briefing against Rishi Sunak for 2023.

He's gonna do a lotta that sort of thing in the future, though.

#tagging this as NOTHING lol #just a homework assignment for myself really #this whole blog is just my study notes for this deep dive #actually i think charlie will show remarkable and uncharacteristic restraint in his briefing during 2023 #it's the year of his reign that he'll be under most scrutiny and he knows it #i also think at least some of the leaks so far were because he didn't have his new office properly disciplined yet #... but don't you worry #we'll get Prince Palace Sources Say back again in the future #and i for one look forward to it #yes i do think his palace will release a refutation to Spare but that's not the same #he'll put his own damn name on it and i respect that #speaking of that ofc an official response to Spare will depend #on how behind-the-scenes relationships and negotiations for the coronation go #i think Charles wants the Sussexes there very much actually #so i expect he's working on them #and if they have agreed to come his response will be much more muted in his mum's 'recollections may vary' vein #but if H and M are hemming and hawing and/or bow out all bets are off lol #a third alternative is leaving the war to william to conduct which is also a bit lolll #ofc it's all messy and kinda sad but the notion of charles now thinking himself #too REGAL to get in the mud... you handle it william i believe in you boy...#yeah i would definitely have a chuckle

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meltwonu · 4 years

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| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 10]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, guided masturbation, dirty talk, jun being a wild one, sad?????angst(sorry), mentions of break-ins/theft, yet again this chapter was meant to be shorter but here we are 😭🍒 more plot than anything else but enjoy! and as always, thank you so much for your support and interest in Cherry Bomb!! 😭💕💕💕 have a good weekend and don’t forget my halloween intro post goes up tomorrow as well!! stay hydrated bbys!!💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - ?

“Damn.”

Seungcheol sits beside you Friday morning, lips pressed into a firm line when he sees the five-digit number staring back at him from your revenue page.

“Yeah, it’s---I--I’m…”

The two of you fall into a tense silence as you both stare at the exorbitant amount of money that the videos have made, unsure of what to say or even think.

“Um, I mean, o-obviously you get a cut of the money too, ‘Cheol! You’re half the video so…”

“Yeah, but even so, that’s---that’s an insane amount of money we made off of, what, three videos?”

You nod back slowly, sighing as you rest against the back of the sofa. “I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t think… they’d do that well. Like, not saying we suck! We obviously don’t, but just… I didn’t think they’d do that well.”

Seungcheol laughs, leaning back against the cushions as he meets your blushing face. “I could quit my job and just cam with you for this amount of money. I mean, this much off of three videos? Imagine if we were regulars together.”

The thought alone sends your mind into a flurry of various ideas; biting your lip as you lean into Seungcheol’s shoulder.

“Hey, I have an idea for tomorrow’s show but remind me to ask you later!”

hoshi_tiger_xx: still out of town baby?

sleepy_wonu: i feel like you moved and you’re just not ready to tell us lol

Seungcheol smirks reading the comments; eyes flitting over to you from his place on the sofa.

“Moved? I wish! This place is probably waaaay more than my own rent though~” You pause, letting the sound of donations sound off and comments fly past on your laptop screen. “And I’m probably heading home tomorrow so get ready to say bye to this backdrop!” You pout.

therealchan99: can we quickly discuss those videos tho

angelhan: actually yes

Biting your lip, you note that Seungcheol’s eyes are already on you and that you’ve already hit the donation minimum to start your show. “Well…” You start pushing the straps of your bra down, unhooking the back until you can toss the flimsy material off. “What do you guys want to know? You know I kiss and tell~”

dom.cheol: how does he gets you so fuckin wet, baby?

alphagyu97: ur not rly friends are u? Is he ur bf?

alphagyu97: im not pressed either im just curious!!!

universe_WZ: thats what they all say

chwenon: yooo that last vid was fuckin fire tho

tangerine_kwan has donated $50

tangerine_kwan: is he ever gonna join u on cam? think u guys would be good

“Hmm~ Well, let’s start with dom.cheol’s question…” You shoot the camera a sultry smirk as you spread your legs; fingertips already dancing along the lace of your panties. “It’s really not hard~ He’s really good at what he does, y’know? Knows how to talk to me and get my panties wet~”

xcaliburDK: is he good looking

kitty_junjun: probably not as well as me 🤪

gentleman_josh95: stop while u r ahead

Letting out a soft giggle, you watch as Seungcheol rounds the sofa, leaning up against the back of it as he faces you. He keeps his phone in hand, thumb still dancing across the keyboard.

dom.cheol: he has to punish you so often though, baby.

artist8hao: i know, whats gotten into u babygirl? Why r u acting out so much?

“‘Cause I like it when he punishes me~” You lick your lips as you hook your thumbs into your panties, slowly guiding them down your legs. “But I like it when he’s sweet to me too~” Your eyes dance up to Seungcheol, tossing the material his way before speaking.

“Won’t you be sweet to me now?”

alphagyu97: oh shit hes there

universe_WZ: let him fuck your pretty pussy on cam baby

“Aww, I’d love that but he’s still a ‘lil too shy for a live show!” You run your fingertips through your folds, collecting the wetness on them before you bring them to your lips. “But not shy enough to lend your voice, maybe?”

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

Seungcheol makes sure to raise his voice enough so that he’s within earshot of the mic; adrenaline rushing through his veins when he, too, notices the sudden influx of comments and donations at his sudden appearance. “My baby’s been good today though, hasn’t she?” Nodding, you get lost in Seungcheol’s firm stare as the sound of donations and comments fire off in the background.

“Mmhmm~ So why don’t you guide me and show me how a good girl gets rewarded?”

He sets his phone down onto the back of the sofa precariously, both hands in the pockets of his sweats as he watches you. “Normally, good girls get to sit on my cock but we’ll save that for another time, baby. For now, why don’t you get those fingers nice and wet for me? Let them see how good that mouth of yours is.”

therealchan99: those pretty lips that look so good around a cock, just like i thought

sleepy_wonu has donated $100

sleepy_wonu: fuck yeah

You make sure your fingers are properly wet before you drag them down your body, soft sighs on your lips. “Don’t tease me too much though, okay?” Seungcheol grins in return, picking up his phone and sending a quick donation to keep up appearances before he glances your way again.

“Of course. So why don’t you play with that cute ‘lil clit of yours. Bet it’s still nice and sensitive after last night, huh?”

A stuttered moan falls from your lips the second you start rubbing slow circles on your clit; eyes fluttering shut at the memory alone.

xcaliburDK: fuck, all that cum spilling out of her cunt was hot

artist8hao: bet she was nice and full huh? Such a shame she wasted it

Seungcheol chuckles under his breath, “Right? Guess I’ll just have to fuck it deeper into her pussy next time.” You can’t help but clench around emptiness as you pinch your clit between your fingers at his words.

“Ngh, he made me come home with cum trickling down my thighs…” You whimper, “Not that I minded.”

“She begged me to fuck her in the shower too. Wanted me to mark you up real pretty, didn’t you? So that all your viewers could see.”

“Mmhmm…” He watches as you slowly slide your fingers down your folds to your entrance before they slide back up to your clit. “Why don’t you put two fingers in, hmm? Pretend they’re mine while you fuck yourself on them.”

kitty_junjun: aww her fingers are so small compared to yours

gentleman_josh95: bet its not even enough for her anymore huh?

dom.cheol: probably not

You slowly ease in two fingers at once; moaning when you sink them knuckle deep. “O-oh, fuck… Wha--what should I do n-next?”

“Fuck yourself on them, baby. Go however fast or slow you want to. Make yourself cum on your fingers.” He pauses; running a hand through his hair before he shoots you a devilish smirk. “But tell me how badly you wish it were me, ‘cause we both know you do.”

alphagyu97: wheeew lets hear it babygirl

tangerine_kwan: yea baby tell us

“It’s---It’s not the s-same… ‘Cause your fingers are b-bigger than mine…” You whimper, “And--a-ah, and they’re longer too…” Scissoring your fingers, you let out a breathy moan when you start thrusting your fingers faster into yourself.

“I wish it were your fingers, knuckle deep inside my pussy and making me cum. F-fuck, and stretching me open…”

You place your thumb on your clit; rubbing harsh circles on the nub as you chase your high.

Seungcheol watches with keen eyes, the way your heels dig into the sheets and the way your brows furrow in concentration; licking his lips when he can tell you’re already close to your orgasm.

“Now let’s see that pretty pussy cum, sweetheart.”

You towel your hair off after your shower; shuffling towards the living area as Seungcheol settles into his makeshift bed on the sofa.

“Don’t you want to sleep in the bed with me for once, ‘Cheol?”

His lips press into a lopsided smile, “Are you asking because it’s your last night here?”

“Maybe~”

He lets out a breathy laugh as he reaches for his pillow, gesturing you back towards his bed. “By the way, what was your idea for your show?” You sit cross-legged on the bed just as Seungcheol sets his pillow back against the headboard.

“...How do you feel about maybe filming with me at my place?” He quirks a brow at you just as he settles onto what he deems his side of the bed for the night. “Do tell.” He has a vague idea of where this is heading, but he lets you continue; curiosity eating away at him the longer you hesitate.

“Well, I was thinking… Maybe, and only if you’re okay with it, but… I was thinking maybe you could drive me back to my place? And I know it’s about an hour out from here but I’ll pay gas money! And we can just start heading towards my apartment a little before my show starts. That way you can use toys on me ‘n stuff. And I don’t mind if you spend the night either ‘cause it’ll probably be kinda late when we finish...”

Seungcheol nods; already thinking about the possibilities with the amount of toys you had at your place compared to his. “I mean, yeah, why not? And don’t worry about the gas money, I think we’ve both made enough money this week to last us a while.”

You can only pout in return, laying on your stomach next to Seungcheol who stares up at the ceiling. “Speaking of which… What’re we gonna do now?”

“What do you mean?”

Sighing, you run your fingers through your damp hair. “I mean… What are we going to do about the videos? Are--Are we still going to film together?”

His lips press into a firm line as a million thoughts run through his mind; he’d thought about it a lot himself the past few days since. “I have an idea but I’m not sure how you’re gonna feel about it.”

“Shoot, we’ve got nothin’ to lose I don’t think!”

Seungcheol eases onto his side as he meets your stare, “First of all, I don’t mind filming more videos with you. And to be honest, it’ll probably take me a bit of time before I’m okay with showing my face but I don’t mind being on your live cam shows either, if we can figure out some camera angles. But the thing is… I think if we’re going to be filming together, you need to change your filming schedule.”

Panic runs through you for a second at the idea but you quickly push it aside to hear his suggestion. “How so?”

“Well, right now you’re doing shows on Fridays and Saturdays, every other Monday and every other Wednesday, right? Your next show is Wednesday which is fine but I think if we end up filming videos together regularly, we need to adjust how often you actually cam and how often we post pre-recorded videos. ‘Cause let’s be real, you’d be way too tired if you kept it that frequent. Three live shows a week and filming with me? It’s way too much for you.”

This time, it’s your lips that press into a firm line. But Seungcheol was right. There was no way you could keep your normal schedule on top of filming with him in between. “That… That makes sense. What are we gonna do about, uh, I mean---’cause we don’t really live near each other…” Mumbling, you trail off, hoping that Seungcheol knew the answer.

“Hmm, well, you can keep your Friday shows and then I can swing by on the weekends. We can film a few videos over the weekend, even if they’re just short ones, or even film long ones and then you can just cut them into shorter pieces. So, in theory, you’d only do two live shows a week and one upload of both of us? We can figure out everything else as we go in terms of splitting profits and stuff.”

You nod at his suggestion, feeling better about the idea. “That sounds reasonable! I’ll have to make a notice for my page but hopefully it shouldn’t be too big of a change…”

Seungcheol yawns as he stretches, eyes filled with sleep when he looks at you.

“We don’t have to do anything too soon either. Those videos are still makin’ money so let’s get some sleep!”

You and Seungcheol spend the Saturday afternoon driving around town; even going so far as to drop by the roller rink one last time to say your thanks and goodbye to Jeongguk.

“The two of you are somethin’ else, man. Really. With my whole heart, I just--I love it.” He pretends to wipe a tear off of his face as you and Seungcheol share a look.

“Promise me you’ll think of my offer?”

You nod in return, a soft giggle escaping your lips. “I promise! Seungcheol tells me you stream often yourself so I feel like I can trust you but only if you get my good side too!” This time Jeongguk’s eyes light up with excitement as he reaches for your hands over the concession stand counter.

“Oh my god, if---if I promise to give you half a cut of profits, would you show up on my gaming stream? You don’t even have to be good, just if we collabed, I really think---”

“Okay, ‘Guk, I think that’s enough for now. You can ask her a thousand questions next time.” You pat Jeongguk’s hands as he pouts. “I’ll think about it, okay?” You whisper under your breath; a small smile on his lips as he nods back.

“Don’t be a stranger!”

Seungcheol links his hand with yours as he leads you out of the roller rink and back to his car; eyes flitting to his watch to check the time. “We’ve got time to have dinner and then we probably need to hit the road after.” You nod, “Sounds good! Where are we headin’ for dinner?”

“‘Guk and I went to this diner called ‘Dynamite’ a while back… The food’s alright and I haven’t taken you there yet so we can go there if you’re okay with it?”

“Sounds good!”

Seungcheol pulls into the parking lot of the diner 30 minutes later as the same neon signs greet him back. He parks near the entrance again, noting that it seemed fairly empty this time as well.

“I wonder if the guy is still here…” He mutters as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “What guy?”

The two of you exit his car; jogging up to him as he waits for you. “Just the guy who was our server when I was here with ‘Guk. He seemed familiar and it was weird.”

Seungcheol opens the door for you, letting you in first as the cold AC blasts you.

“Welcome to Dynamite, I’m Jun and I----Oh fuck!” Jun drops the menus in his hand, lips settling into a wide smile as he walks up to you and Seungcheol, tripping on his own feet as he meets you at the door. “I’m a big fan!” He harshly whispers. You blink up at him just before your eyes flit down to his pastel coloured name tag.

Jun.

Oh. kitty_junjun.

“O-oh, you’re---you’re kitty_junjun aren’t you?” You whisper back; already noting that he was quite handsome himself.

Fuck, are all my regulars hot?

“That’s me, baby! And oh--you! It’s you! I remember you from last time! You were with that other guy! Are you… y’know. The guy.” Jun wiggles his eyebrows as he steps back and picks up two menus from the counter. Seungcheol mentally grimaces but he nods.

“That’d be me.”

Jun’s eyes light up with enthusiasm as he gestures for the two of you to follow him towards the seating area. “I’m such a huge fan, really! Of Cherry and, well, really both of you now.” He leads you to a booth before he sets the menus down onto the table. “I hope you don’t mind but I volunteer to be your server and the milkshakes are on me tonight!” Finishing with a wink, he leaves the two of you alone as he walks back towards the counter.

“Wow, ‘Cheol when you said small town, you really meant it, huh?” Giggling, you take in Seungcheol’s mildly embarrassed appearance. “Hey, you’re famous!”

Am I famous? He thinks, Or is it just my dick?

“So that’s three people that could clock me in person… I mean, I guess it could be worse.” He mumbles; cheeks flushed pink when he sees Jun walking back towards your table. Jun leans against the booth, nodding as he props a hand on his hip.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you guys. It’s just, I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity!” He laughs, “I’d ask for your autograph but then I think that’d be a little too weird.”

You can’t help but giggle at his comment, turning slightly to face him better. “Guess you were right when you said you thought you saw me, huh?” He snaps his fingers as the memory comes back to him in an instant.

“You’re right! Fuck, I almost forgot about that. Man, I thought I was having a fever dream.”

Jun stares off to the side before he fixes his gaze onto Seungcheol; eyes wide. “Hey, I never caught your name, I don’t think?” Seungcheol gulps, hoping that Jun doesn’t connect the dots as easily as Jeongguk did.

“It’s Seungcheol.”

“Oh… okay! Well, cool, are you guys ready to order?”

He lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he was holding as you relay your order to Jun; lips falling into a shaky smile as he gives his order to Jun once you were done.

“Okay! I’ll be back in a little bit!” Jun shoots the two of you a smile before he leaves the two of you alone again.

“Well, this is an interesting Saturday if I do say so myself!” Seungcheol can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of him; shaking his head at the way you seem to take it so easily. “I can’t believe you’re so chill about running into people that know you!”

“Like you said, ‘Cheol! It could be worse~” You pause, “This one time I was at the grocery store and this older man came up to me and said he recognized me. I was like, cool, y’know? I know my viewers are all different ages so I don’t judge. But then, two kids came up to him calling him ‘daddy’ and I literally bolted out of that place before his wife could find me!”

The two of you share a laugh before changing the topic; only stopping when Jun comes by with your orders, twenty minutes later.

“Hey, this is kinda random but it’s not so busy right now, so… Did you wanna sit with us and chat?” You offer as your eyes dance between Seungcheol and Jun. The latter’s eyes twinkle with excitement as he sets the last plate down.

“Wait, seriously? I can take my 15 if you’re being serious!” This time, you look to Seungcheol for his opinion, already noticing the way he seems more relaxed.

“Yeah, that’s cool with me.”

Jun all but runs off to tell his manager as you scoot over to give him space when he gets back. “I’m surprised you asked if he wanted to sit with us while we had dinner.”

“Why not? He seems nice! And we’re making friends!” Seungcheol nods in agreement just as he starts eating and just as Jun makes it back to the booth with a milkshake of his own.

You pat the empty spot next to you as he gasps slightly. “I feel like the second luckiest man on earth.”

He slides into the booth next to you, making sure to keep a reasonable distance. “Hey! You’ve got a show tonight so… are you two, y’know…” Seungcheol makes a conscious effort to not choke on his food as he chews slower than he usually would; eyes flitting over to you just as you set your utensils down.

“Um, yeah! We don’t really know what we’re gonna do yet but no spoilers okay~ Nobody knows what he looks like, Junnie!” You pout. Jun can only vibrate in his seat; a pink blush on his cheeks at the sudden nickname.

“Of course! My lips are sealed shut! And well, if you’re ever back in town, I’ll give you guys my employee discount if you swing by!” He grins.

The three of you talk about various topics within Jun’s fifteen minute break, thankfully none that involve camming. Jun pouts when his time is up, a sigh on his lips when he stands. “Damn, well, I guess I’ll see you later then, huh?” He wiggles his eyebrows, chuckling.

“Just wave me over if you guys need anything, okay?”

The rest of dinner goes on without issue and Seungcheol finds himself in a lighter mood than when the two of you first arrived at the diner.

You make sure to leave Jun a big tip, winking at him on your way out.

“Ready to head home after a week?” Seungcheol shoots you a sad smile as he walks you to the passenger’s side of his car. He opens the door for you and lets you in before shutting it and jogging to the driver’s side.

“I mean, it’s not like we’re not gonna see each other anymore. If anything we’re gonna be seeing each other fairly regularly since you’re gonna come over to film!”

Seungcheol nods as he sets your apartment into his GPS; pulling out of the driveway as he begins the hour drive to your place.

“Yeah, and I mean, we can figure out what schedule works better as we go. Maybe we only need to film every other week or something too, right?”

“Mmhmm! I’ll start drafting a notice for the schedule change tomorrow and then I’ll run it by you before it goes up.”

The hour drive seems to go by quicker than you expect as the two of you spend the time singing along to songs on the radio; judging Seungcheol’s impeccable vocal skill when a rock song comes on.

“Wow, I--I didn’t know you had the vocal cords to do that, ‘Cheol!” He takes his eyes off of the road for a split second to shoot you a cocky grin.

“I’m pretty good at karaoke. We should go next time! Maybe invite all of our new friends.”

You snort in response, slapping his arm as he pulls into a residential part of town. “And if the person working the front desk of the karaoke place knows us?”

“Then we invite them in too!”

A slight blush paints your cheeks when you realize how much Seungcheol seemed to have relaxed in the last few days, if not hours. You knew it was never easy to get used to being recognized in person and there were still a lot of times where even you were flustered in person.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” Seungcheol’s concerned voice has you immediately peering through the window; eyebrows furrowed when you see the police cars parked outside of your apartment complex.

“W--wait that’s my--my apartment complex, ‘Cheol pull over!”

He parks the car a little closer to the scene; getting out of the car with you as the dread becomes more and more evident on your face. “Hey, I’m here with you, okay? Maybe it’s just nothing.” He offers; simultaneously knowing that his words were currently going in one ear and out the other.

The two of you walk hand in hand up to the front where you spot your landlord standing with a police officer. You call her name as she turns to you, gesturing for you to come closer.

“Didn’t you get my text message? Or any of my calls from the last 45 minutes?” You shake your head no in response, eyes dancing to Seungcheol who’s expression matches your own. “No--No I--I was out at dinner, I didn’t even hear my phone go off. What’s going on here?”

She sighs, arms crossed in front of her chest as the police officer clears his throat. “Well, Miss, there were a few break-ins tonight here. There’s a lot of broken glass and a lot of missing items. Thankfully nobody was injured but unfortunately we’re going to be running an investigation so it could take some time.”

“I--w--what about m-my apartment?” Your landlord sighs, “I’m sorry, honey, but your apartment was one of them, I---hey!”

You all but drag Seungcheol with you as you start making your way towards the entrance of the complex, panic and adrenaline guiding you as you all but throw the front door open. The sounds of the officer and your landlord shouting your name become fuzzy as you make your way through the halls; side stepping the stray items that were left on the floor. You make it to your hall when you notice a police officer standing at your front door that seems to have almost been ripped from the hinges.

“Miss, you can’t be in here, we’re---”

“This is my apartment, please just let me in!”

The officer standing at your apartment door notes the distress in your voice and sighs, “Show me some ID and I can let you in.” You quickly fish out your ID as he cross-references it with his documents. “Alright, go ahead. Please just don’t touch any of the hard surfaces.”

Your palm feels clammy against Seungcheol’s as you step into your apartment; shaky gasps on your lips when you notice the items strewn about. “O-oh my god…”

Seungcheol squeezes your hand tight, unsure of what to say. This was definitely the last thing he would’ve expected to happen at the end of your one week stay with him.

You can’t help the tears that threaten to spill as you look around your apartment and Seungcheol quickly notes the glassy look in your eyes when you turn to face him. Seungcheol quickly turns to the officer, voice stern. “I’m sorry to ask but can you give us a second alone, please? This is a lot for her to take in.” The officer nods as he steps back into the hallway.

“Baby? Tell me how you’re feeling, sweetheart.”

It only takes a split second before you’re sobbing into Seungcheol’s chest; his arms wrapping tightly around you.

He rubs your back gently, cooing to you softly as you let out your emotions. “Seungcheol, I, hic, wh--what am I--I, hic, g-gonna d-do? I…” You trail off as your mind goes a mile a minute. He’s unsure of how to comfort you, eyes taking in the ransacked room.

“We--we should probably talk to the officer outside? Figure out what’s going on. I--I mean, you’re definitely coming home with me. I’m not leaving you here like this and with nowhere to go.”

You pull away from his chest, tears still streaming down your face when you look up at him. Seungcheol feels his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. God please, I’d do anything to make sure she never cries like this again, he thinks.

“But my--my s-stuff, I--this--”

“I know, baby, I know. Let’s just both be thankful you weren’t here when they broke in, okay? We can replace the material stuff.” He smooths your hair down and wipes your cheeks, leaning down until he’s at eye level with you.

“I promise you, we’ll figure it out, okay? I’m not leaving you until we do.”

Nodding, you let Seungcheol take your hand as he brings you back to the front door where the officer is. “Hello? Excuse me?”

“Yes?”

Seungcheol looks your way before clearing his throat. “We just want to know what happened to my girlfriend’s apartment.” You squeeze his hand, hiding behind him.

“Well, we can’t really know for sure. A few other apartments were broken into. For some, the locks were picked and for others, it seemed like they just used blunt force against the doors until they gave way. Unfortunately, seeing as this is a gated apartment complex, the hallways don’t have any security cameras and we have no idea how the suspects got in past the gate.” The officer pauses for a moment as he lets his words sink in. “Usually with cases like this, a lot of the material goods eventually show up in local pawn shops or even just discarded in near-by trash containers. And judging from the building history, this isn’t the first time these burglars came by. This seems to be the second time. But that’s all we know for now. I suggest you pack some of your things and hang tight in a hotel until we get more info because, unfortunately, your door is ready to fall off of the hinges and we need to get a detective in here to see if there’s any fingerprints on the surfaces.”

“Will there be someone patrolling this place all night? How are we sure they won’t come back?”

“We’ll have an officer posted at all times, young man. I promise you nobody will get back in here.”

The tears stream down your cheeks as you quietly stand behind Seungcheol; lip quivering as Seungcheol thanks the officer for the information before turning to face you again.

“‘Ch--Cheol, what’re w-we, hic, gonna d-do now?” Your voice sounds so small to him as you keep your eyes focused on the floor.

“Has your apartment been broken into before? Be honest with me.”

“O--once, but--but it w-wasn’t this bad...” He clenches his jaw at your words. How the fuck did this happen before without anyone finding out? “Wait, so this has happened in the past? And you never said anything?” You peer up at him, eyelashes wet with tears.

“It, hic, they--they didn’t take as much s-stuff that t-time. But--but now I’m, hic, won--wondering if they were just s-scouting...” Seungcheol’s vision goes red; knowing exactly what he wanted to do and say but unsure of the possible outcome.

Fuck, screw it.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, sweetheart.” He pauses, exhaling deeply before he continues. “We’re gonna pack a bag, take all your important things that you can find. I don’t care if we have to fill up my entire car with your things. And you’re coming home with me. I don’t care if you have to break the lease on this place, but I can’t in good conscience know you’re living here if people are breaking into it like this.” You open your mouth to speak, brows furrowed. “But--”

“No! No buts this time. I--I can have Jeongguk help with moving. I’m sure Seokjin-hyung can take his shift at the roller rink for one day to help us move your things. And we’ll figure things out as we go.”

“The r-rent, I--”

Seungcheol shoots you a small smile as he tilts your head up to meet his soft and warm eyes. “Please, don’t worry about something like that right now. I’m just happy you’re okay. And that you weren’t here alone where I couldn’t help you.”

You nod shakily, hands covering Seungcheol’s as he holds your face in his hands. “Seungcheol, I’m so--so sorry, I--I don’t even k-know where to start, I--this is---it’s all just so much. Really I can just---just get a h-hotel and you can g-go home...” The tears threaten to spill again but Seungcheol quickly tugs you into his inviting arms.

This was by-far not at all how he expected to end his weekend. And he could only assume you felt the same way.

“I know it’s a lot. But we’re good at figuring things out on the fly, right? You have to trust me on this one. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. But for right now, I think you need to hurry and post a notice that there’s no show tonight while I look for your luggage so we can grab some things and get out of here, okay?”

He releases you from his hold, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead.

“I’ll fix it, I promise.”

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #scoups #seungcheol

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something-fanfiction-ie · 4 years

Text

Tips and Tricks

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Spencer scares you for a second. And your mom is disappointed.

A/N: I know I have so many things going at once but I couldn’t help myself with this! I’m sorry. Forgive me. Like, comment, reblog, send me asks and shit. I love you! Enjoy!

___

A true book enthusiast knows that the most beautiful smell in the world can be found in the middle of a book. Whether it’s old and it’s pages are yellowed with age, or its so new that the text wipes off onto your hands when you open the cover, the smell is like a drug that gets your engine running the way no actual drug ever could.

It’s that thought that makes your pull your car into the nearly deserted parking lot of the bookstore as the rain crashes around you. You’ve seen enough ID Channel to know that waiting for the storm to pass while parked on the side of the road is about as dangerous as walking into a serial killer club meeting with a sign around your neck that reads, ‘kill me, I look like every person who has ever wronged you in life.’

Pulling your bag up over your head, you dash inside as fast as you can. The bell rings through the empty store, the smell of books hitting your senses and putting you at ease.

Even with your bag over your head, your hair is drenched and your clothes stick to your body in the most uncomfortable way possible. The store is manned by one forlorn looking teenage girl with short black hair, you can hear the gum she’s smacking behind the desk from four feet away.

Classical music filters down from the speakers, nestling among the thousands of books that take up every available space in the room. While some books fill the floor to ceiling bookshelves, the rest have been stacked on the floor like a maze of knowledge. Some stacks go up so high that even if you stand on your toes and stretch your arm as high as you could, you would still be a good ten five-hundred paged books from the top.

Every turn into the book maze reveals another secret of the store, like the collection of vinyls tucked into a corner beneath a record player that is older than your grandmother. Down a narrow path of towering novels, is a small reading nook with two red armchairs that have seen their fair share of readers.

It feels like you’ve stumbled upon the house of an immortal book-lover, the rugs that stretch across the floor feeling just as ancient as the words around you. But it’s peaceful, relaxing. You find yourself humming along to Chopin’s Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2, the spines of books bumping under your finger. Unsure how the books are organized, or even if they are, you’ve decided to look at the book your finger is on once the song is over.

When the last notes fade into a brief quietness, you stop on a book written by a ‘David Rossi.’ You can’t help the breathy laugh that comes from your chest in surprise that the first book you look at is a true crime novel.

Ever since you were a little girl, stealing your mom’s police badge to play ‘cops and robbers,’ and sneaking into her office to read case files you weren’t supposed to, you’d been in love with the puzzle-solving of the investigative world. You’ve always had a mind for finding clues no one thought to look for, it was the only reason you didn’t get in trouble when you left sticky notes full of observations and theories in your mother’s case files.

It was this background that made everyone around you so sure you would become a detective just like your mom. It was this same background that surprised everyone when you became an author instead. To say your mother was disappointed was an understatement, she’d been the most shocked when you showed her a four hundred page manuscript instead of an application for the police academy.

“Who gets a master’s in criminology only to write books?!”

Even still, she was the dedication in every book you published. So far, that was two, you’d been in the midst of your third book for four months now. Something about the story didn’t feel right, and no matter how many times you rewrote every page, it still didn’t click together the way the first two books had.

You don’t let the thought bug you as you flip open the hardcover, the pages falling to the side as you read the synopsis printed to the inside flap. The ringing of the bell barely registers in your mind, falling somewhere behind the book in your hands, the sound of the rain beating at the roof, and Beethoven’s Sonata No. 8. After reading the first page, you decide to give the book a chance and you tuck it beneath your arm for safe keeping.

This time, you turn your eyes up to the tops of the shelves, scanning for something that might be interesting. Each binding tells a story of its own, with spines creased from frequent readings or smooth spines begging to be cracked open. There are titles in gold and black, silver and red, the backgrounds varying in more colors than the words.

By the time you’ve wandered back to the reading nook with armchairs strategically placed to face each other at a diagonal, Beethoven is coming to a close. The notes vibrate for just a moment, and you choose the book tucked into the end with a dark purple cover and gold lettering. You can’t quite see the title but something tells you that this is something you want to read, that this books is going to be a good one.

Call it a reader’s instinct.

It’s just that, there are no step ladders to get to the top shelf and you aren’t exactly tall enough to reach it. Climbing the shelf just sounds dangerous, and you aren’t too eager to die at the hands of hundreds of books and a large bookcase. You contemplate moving one of the armchairs to assist you, but ultimately decide against it when you imagine that teenage girl coming to the back with a disappointed look on her face at the sight of you.

Instead you stretch like your life depends on it, your toes cramping a little as you push up on them as high as you can go. The tips of your fingers bump the spine when you curve your hand around the lip of the shelf. The wood digs into your wrist but maybe if you keep pushing and pulling at what you can grab, it will wiggle itself free.

That’s your plan until a warm body unintentionally brushes against you, an arm longer than yours coming up beside you and taking the book from its place up high with ease. Falling back to your feet, you’re quick to turn around and come face to face with a man you’ve never met before.

His expression is kind and gentle, crinkling his eyes and dimpling his cheeks when he offers you a shy smile and the book he grabbed for you. He’s definitely in the department of tall, tilting his head down a little to meet your gaze with eyes that you can’t quite describe as brown but you can’t quite describe as hazel either. Everything about him makes your heart stutter in your chest, from the color and shape of his lips, to the sharp cut of his jawline.

He’s curls himself down a little, his empty hand palm up and open as if he is trying to seem less threatening. It’s such a stark contrast to most of the men you meet, who invade your personal space and eyeball your breasts like they’re human bra size detectors.

You don’t realize you’ve been staring until he clear his throat, a dusty pink color rising to his cheekbones as he shuffles nervously in his spot. Blinking away the cloud of initial shock from the angelic being before you, you grab the book and mumble a ‘thank you.’

“Are you a big fan of David Rossi?” He says, shoving his hands deep into the recesses of his pockets.

“Who?” Internally, your facepalm yourself at the absolute stupidity that must be radiating off of you in waves strong enough to affect the whole population of Virginia.

“You’re holding two of his books.” Sure enough, not only is the book tucked under your arm David Rossi, but so is the book in your hands. The laugh that sputters out of you is even more surprised than the first laugh, the sheer coincidence of grabbing two random books by the same author in this whole building pulling the laughter from the pits of your stomach.

His lips flicker into a confused smile. It makes him that much more adorable.

“I was choosing books my eyes or finger landed on when the song ended. I couldn’t really figure out how everything is arranged so I thought I’d let the music decide for me.” He looks around now, his male-lead, love-interest eyes flying across the room to confirm that there really was no form of originization, his brows furrowing in thought. His bottom lips is sucked between his teeth and the vividness of the lewd fantasies that come from the small action are enough to push you back a step.

Only, you’re already pretty close to the bookcase, and when you step back to get some distance your back bumps into the wood and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head to keep it from hitting the corner. You’re not even sure how he knew to react so fast, those eyes coming back to meet yours.

“Careful there, your head almost hit the shelf behind you.” Putting just a little pressure on the back of your neck to guide you out of harms way, he doesn’t let go until his back is to the case and you’re standing in his old spot. The new smile he gives you is lopsided, causing your heart to trip over itself. What you wouldn’t give in that moment to capture that smile on camera or canvas, to hold onto it forever.

You don’t even know this man, what are you thinking?!

Pulling the books to your chest like a shield for your heart, which has digressed to the same emotional maturity you had as a thirteen year old girl when you were in love with every member of New Kids On the Block, you tighten your grip around the covers to the point that your knuckles turn white.

“I’m (Y/N).” Somehow his smile brightens even more.

“I’m Spencer.”

“Are you hiding from the rain too, Spencer?” Everything about you hates small talk, you always wanted to jump straight into the nitty gritty of getting to know someone. You wanted to know what made them tick, what made them who they were. But you were willing to do the normal thing and lure him into an actual conversation, if only to keep him talking.

“Actually, I came to this bookshop with a specific purpose.” Spencer schools his features, suddenly all business. The brown blazer with elbow patches and the lavender button up certainly help to make him appear serious. You still imagine reaching for the dark purple tie around his neck and pulling his lips to yours, the severity of his expression only adding to his sexiness.

“I work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, I came here because I’m in the middle of an investigation that led me here,” You blink in surprise, all kinds of questions popping into your mind. “You see, I got a tip that I may find it here. I wasn’t sure, but after some looking around it appears they were right.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he’s talking about, thinking of all the local cases you’ve heard about in the last week or so. Nothing that would involve the FBI comes to mind, especially not the BAU.

Between the end of his sentence and the opening of your mouth, Spencer has time to reach out to the side of your head, his fingers brushing against a few strands of hair.

“I only want to know two things; how you got ahold of my favorite pen, and why you thought you could get away with it?” Balanced in his thumb and index finger is a black pen, the writing tip pointed toward the ceiling. He holds it between you, a silly grin stretched across his face as you reach up to touch your ear.

Of course you’ve seen the old ‘coin behind the ear’ trick before, never with a pen but it’s the same concept. It’s just so funny and out-there that you cant help being a little amazed.

“Is this how you flirt with women, Agent?”

“Actually it’s Doctor. Doctor Reid,” he smugly goes about tucking the pen back into the breast pocket of his blazer, you can briefly recall it being there before he distracted you by switching places just seconds ago, “I do work with the BAU, that wasn’t a ruse. I have my credentials if you want me to prove it.”

He isn’t boastful, he’s just trying to distract you from the answer to your question. The answer was yes, this is how he flirts with women. It was the only way he knew how to flirt with women that worked, having stuck to the method since Atlanta, Georgia. You wouldn’t be the first woman who thought it was cute, you were the first woman to call him on it though.

“As long as you don’t try to arrest me for the kidnapping of your pen, I’ll be inclined to believe you without proof.” He chuckles, the first time you’ve heard it since the both of you started talking, and you didn’t realize he could get better. The sound warmed every part of you so much that you felt like you were glowing from inside.

“I knew you were framed. I’ve had my suspicions on the girl running the store.” You nod your head, trying to keep the smile from pulling on your lips as you tuck a piece of your still wet hair behind your ear.

“I knew something hinky was happening with her.”

“My best law enforcement advice is to always trust your gut when it comes to crime, ma’am.”

With the ice broken thanks to the magical Dr. Reid, the conversation flows naturally between you. You both gravitate toward each other like opposite ends of magnets, unaware how close you are to touching until you absentmindedly kick your foot out and hit the tip of his shoe with your own. In an attempt to keep yourself rooted, you sit in the armchairs.

Anyone, FBI profiler or not, would have been able to tell what was going on when they found you both leaned against the arms of your seats, heads together as Reid explained how the serious looking man in the back of your book is actually one of his team members. He names all of his team members, affectionately describing them to you as if they were characters in a new book you were reading.

Normally he would keep all of this information reserved, but something about you made him feel so at ease.

You too, reveal more information than you normally would to a stranger you’d just met. You tell him about your books and your mother, you tell him how you aren’t sure why your newest book isn’t working and ask his advice on it all. He takes each question into careful consideration before answering.

It isn’t until you’ve been there for two hours, talking about anything that you could think of, that Spencer’s phone starts to ring. It’s a case. You want to ask, the young girl from your childhood coming out at the mention of a case you could help on, but you don’t.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N), but I have to go.” He fluidly rises from his seat, all at once the carefree air falls around him to reveal the intelligent, elegant, crime-fighting, doctor underneath the nerdy, magic-loving young man you’d spent the last couple of hours getting to know.

“I’ll walk you to the door.” You offer, hoping to figure out a way to cheekily ask for his number before you make it there. His answering smile is infectious, reaching out and tugging your own cheeks into a smile that hurts. The books hit the wood of the desk with a thunk, Spencer standing just beside you as the girl, her name tag reads ‘RAveN,’ rings up your purchase.

“Watch out for your pens.” Spencer teases, that boy-like amusement coming out. You’ve noticed that when he tries to make a joke, he looks so nervous that you won’t get it in the seconds immediately following it. It isn’t until you laugh or crack a smile that he visibly relaxes, glad to have someone that understands his humor.

Earlier, he’d told you the joke about the existentialists and the light bulb and had been absolutely elated when you doubled over in laughter. The joke wasn’t even that funny, but he’d been making you laugh for so long that your ribs had started to hurt.

“That’ll be $12.78.” You slide your card across the desk, pulling your eyes away from Reid longer than you wanted to. When you look back, there’s a look on his face that takes you a minute to recognize. It’s just on the tip of your tongue when the smack of pen and receipt paper hit the counter.

Quickly, you sign your name on the stores copy of your receipt. You flip your copy of the receipt to the back, using the pen to scribble out your phone number.

“Call me if you ever learn any new magic tricks you want to show off.” The bell dings when you lean back against the door, your books in a bag that dangle from your left hand while your right hand comes up in a wave.

Spencer still stands at the counter, the one in a hurry being the one who still isn’t out the door. The lopsided smile is back, that look crossing his face again as you let the after-storm sun shine on your face.

“Sir, can you take your longing elsewhere? I’d like to close early. I have a thing to get to.” He pats his hand on the countertop, ignoring the buzzing of texts coming through his phone as he makes his way to the car in a bit of a daze.

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds

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onigiriico · 3 years

Text

Osora Interview translation (pt.2)

(printed in AnimaniA 4/2018, p.58 - 61 / interview originally given in March 2018 at the Manga-Comic-Con in Leipzig, Germany)

( pt.1 )

The Internet offers Let’s Players, but also all kinds of artists an opportunity for very direct communication with their fans. However, this can also have its downsides when it comes to potentially negative feedback. How do you deal with this issue?

—Sometimes you just stumble across negative feedback that you didn’t want to see, and that can chip away at your motivation and creativity. I try to prevent that by not really looking at reactions in the first place, and when I do happen to see negative feedback, I try to forget about it again as soon as possible. Of course, when I start a new series, I’m curious about the readers’ reactions and go looking for feedback, but if eight out of ten comments are very positive and two are negative, I still tend to get stuck thinking about those two negative comments. There even was a time when that negative feedback made me feel too depressed to draw for a couple of days. But the more often this happens, the more you learn to deal with this criticism. I can stomach it pretty well by now, and I think it’s important to not let negative feedback get to you.

Did your experience regarding interactions with readers change much from Boku to Senpai no Tekken Kousai to The Ones WIthin?

—Digital publications receive a lot more feedback than series that are only released in print - be it via email or via Twitter. Twitter is the main source of comments. With Boku to Senpai no Tekken Kousai, there was much less of a response, and the feedback that we did get was usually in the form of letters. Since readers had to buy the magazine first and then go out of their way to send a letter, that was a lot more complicated. (T/N: i.e. it takes more time to write/send a whole letter than to just send a tweet)

How do you handle responding to messages from your readers? For example, do you set specific times for yourself to reply?

—Since I get the most reader interaction on Twitter, I try to answer questions and comments there when I find the time for it. I always do that myself because I want to respond to my fans in my own words. That doesn’t feel like extra work to me, but rather like a pleasant change of pace. Aside from my personal account, there’s also the official account for The Ones Within, which is mostly for promotional use. My editor retweets my tweets there and forwards any questions that get asked there to me.

Could you describe your usual daily routine when working on The Ones Within?

—I’m a night owl, so I usually get up rather late at around 10 am. After that, I basically work in two rounds. The first lasts the entire day and ends in the evening, around dinner time. Then I take a short break, and the second round starts at around 9 pm and ends at roughly 2 am. If I’m close to a deadline, I sometimes just continue drawing until I pass out. (lol) I never take much time to eat at that point, either.

What advantages are there to drawing digitally in comparison to drawing traditionally?

—Oh, there’s a lot - especially how easy it is to make corrections and adjustments. Your work space is neater and other people can’t stare as easily at what you’re drawing. There’s no need to erase sketches or apply screentones by hand (T/N: see here how screentones are applied traditionally, it’s definitely faster digitally lol), so there’s not as many work steps either and you can finish your work even on your own [without assistants]. And since it’s all data anyway, it’s easy to save as well.

Do you have any advice for artists who are just starting to work digitally?

—Practice makes perfect! I used to have a private page online where I more or less kept a drawing diary, all about original characters. I still kind of do the same thing on Twitter nowadays. It’s important to keep at it and actually draw on a daily basis, that way you’ll get used to it. There’s also live streams from artists on Pixiv and Twitter - it’s helpful to watch those and adapt parts of their progress for your own work.

You’ve shown us a picture of one of your notebooks that you use to jot down your ideas - where do you usually come up with these? (*picture under the cut at the bottom of the post)

—There’s two main places where I tend to draw spontaneously. For one, on the train - usually after meetings with my editor. I can best sort out my thoughts right after those meetings and save some first ideas. Secondly, in bed, right before going to sleep. Ideas flow really easily when you’re sleepy and letting your thoughts wander. Also, I’d feel like I’m wasting my time if I did nothing and just waited to fall asleep, so instead I imagine as many scenarios as possible and jot down the best ones. When I come up with something I especially like, I might also get up again and draw it digitally right away. (lol) I don’t take my notebooks with me everywhere I go, though.

Both Boku to Senpai no Tekken Kousai and The Ones Within combine dark, mysterious elements with more comedic ones. How do you find a balance between these two aspects, and what do you like so much about combining these opposites?

—I like both comedy and serious plots, so I wanted to draw both - in the end, I combined the two without really thinking much about it. I usually just let this come to me naturally while I’m drawing too, although I do keep the timing in mind. For example, it wouldn’t be appropriate to make a joke in the middle of a sad or serious scene, and vice versa. So, I take care not to destroy the atmosphere that I’m trying to convey [in each given scene].

Personally, which character from The Ones Within is your favorite?

—I can’t really “rank” my characters because I love them all! Going by who’s the easiest to draw, it would be Anya. He’s a pretty straight-forward type, so he’s easy to understand. He’s also the only one who looks angry a lot of the time and has eye bags… and his accessories, like the helmet, his iron bar or the chewing gum - they make him stand out and thus easy to draw.

Do you already have an ending planned for The Ones Within or do you still have a few options to choose from?

—The ending is already planned out!

Do you maybe already have a new project in the works that you would like to tell us about?

—For now, I’m just really happy that The Ones Within is getting an anime adaptation and I can finally talk about it, now that it’s getting officially announced this May! I can’t wait to see my characters animated on the screen!

A final word to your fans?

—Thank you so much for reading my manga! There are so many Japanese manga series out there, and I’m really happy that you chose to read mine out of all of them. The Ones Within is getting an anime adaptation, and of course the manga is still ongoing as well, so I hope you will stick around and enjoy it until the end. Thank you!

Osora-sensei, thank you very much for the interview!

I tried to decipher these but the picture was too small to read much sadly agdjsdvhs

The bigger page seems to be some Kudou bros goodness? They seem to be talking about Shinya having Kenya's piercings (and maybe about Anya getting piercings as well, considering his very resolute "I don't want to." lol) and they're also mentioning ramen at some point from what I can decipher

And the bottom right looks like some kind of character relationship chart / worldbuilding notes,,,

#osora #the ones within #naka no hito genome #nakageno #boku to senpai no tekken kousai #translation #mangaka #mangaka interview #I feel dread knowing that Osora has the ending planned and might drop it on us some day after this hiatus lmao

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horansqueen · 4 years

Text

You & Me : chapter 28

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.2k - 4.3k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: filler chapter again sorry! but i tried to make it cute! i didnt plan a sex scene but its there sooo yea haha lol

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : 2 requests! i hope i wrote them right! love them btw! please keep sending them!!!

Chapter 28 : Her chapter

OLIVIA

I thought we would have sex before we went to bed but I must have fallen asleep faster than I wanted to. Niall also probably undressed me because when I woke up in the middle of the night, I was wearing his shirt and nothing else. I smiled, keeping my eyes closed, and brought my shoulder closer to my nose. It smelled like him even if he probably didn't wear it for too long since he had a buttoned shirt at the wedding. I turned around in bed, trying to reach him with my arm but he wasn't there and I let out a short whimper before forcing myself to open my eyes.

The room was dark and quiet and it made a shiver run in my back. I got up and realized his shirt was a bit short. I searched through my stuff for a clean pair of panties and put it on before quietly getting out of the room. Everything was dark except for a very low and warm light in the living room. I walked slowly closer and leaned against the wall when I saw Niall sitting on the couch. He was writing very quickly in his notebook and he was so concentrated that he didn't even notice me. It was always special for me to see him when he seemed to be so deep in his thoughts that no one could get in his bubble. His hair was a mess and once in a while, he ran his hand in it, making the mess even worse. I stared at him for a while as he kept his focus on the paper, wearing only his boxers and making me realize he probably woke up in the middle of the night with an idea that he couldn't let go of. Something that he knew he wouldn’t remember in the morning but that he just had to write about.

I didn't know how long I stayed there but I didn't want to interrupt him or distract him. I just walked back to the room after a while and lied down in bed, looking at the ceiling. I couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened to me in the past few months and somehow, I felt like everything was going for the better. The more time passed, the more It seemed like I was discovering who I was and what I wanted.

It was so obvious that what I wanted was Niall but more than that, what I really wanted was a healthy relationship with Niall. I wanted us to be the kind of couple that would drip with sweetness but that also could spend time without each other without going crazy. I wanted him to be my best friend but not my only friend and I didn't want either of us to be afraid, insecure, jealous or unhappy. I knew I was asking a lot, and I knew not everything could be perfect all the time, but I knew Niall and I together could come very fucking close to perfection.

I tried to stay awake until he came back to sleep but once again, I probably had fallen asleep despite myself because when I woke up again, the sun was already up and I had a small headache. I groaned and this time, I knew he was still in bed. I could feel the warmth of his body close to mine and I turned in the sheets, wrapping my arm around his back. His cheek was flat against the mattress just like his chest and I watched him sleep, his lips parted and slightly twisted as he let out a low snore. Fuck, he was so hot and I just stared at him with my eyes half-open for a few minutes, or maybe 15? 20? Who knew?

When I realized how bad I needed to pee, I finally got up very slowly, making sure I wouldn't wake him up. He was always up before me but I knew he had been up a big part of the night to write something and I wanted him to get the rest he needed and clearly deserved.

I made coffee and stayed next to the coffee machine as I watched it fall down, yawning a few times before adding cream and sugar in my cup. I couldn't stop thinking about him going on tour and being separated from him for weeks and it made something twist in my chest. Of course, I didn't want to be the girl who would follow him everywhere. I was not that girl anymore. I was not dependent of the man I loved, and I had stuff to do and commitments, too. We were about to start filming the new season of my tv show and although I dreaded playing with Dylan I knew it was something we had to do. It would be awkward at first, for sure, but in the end, I knew he was professional and I promised myself I would be, too.

I finished my coffee but left the cup in the sink before walking to the living room. It was supposed to be a lazy day and I was surprised my head didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, or that I wasn't nauseous at all despite all the champagne I had drank the night before.

I sat on the couch and pushed the stuff on it to find the remote. It showed that I was spending time at Niall's : his place had never been so messy and I suddenly felt guilty. I finally found the remote but looked at it before sighing, putting it back on the coffee table as I took the decision to clean a bit while he was still asleep. Something caught my attention and even if I knew I shouldn't, I grabbed hos notebook to the page it was opened and started reading. Niall rarely shared his writing with random people until it was a final product and all the songs I had heard was because I had crept on him somehow. I was not proud of it but at the same time, he never really seemed angry about it. I remembered that time when we were all at his place and I had followed the sound of his guitar until I practically fell in the room like a loser as he was playing a song. At that time, I had thought it was about Heidi but now that I knew it was about me, I wished I could remember what the lyrics were. All I could remember was that I had deeply hoped that it was for me. That thought made something twist in my chest and I licked my lips before letting my eyes roam on the words I was probably not supposed to see.

"I want the world to witness When we finally say I do It's the way you love I gotta give it back to you I can't promise picket fences Or sunny afternoons But, at night when I close my eyes"

A lot of words seemed to be scratched a few times and then I could read something that seemed like a chorus.

"Yeah, I see us in black and white Crystal clear on a star lit night In all your gorgeous colors I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life See you standing in your dress Swear in front of all our friends There'll never be another I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life"

I swallowed and ran my fingers on the ink, feeling the tiny rifts and bumps in the paper and feeling my heart beating so fast in my chest that I had a hard time to breathe.

"Now, we're sitting here in your living room Telling stories while we share a drink or two And there's a vision I've been holding in my mind We're 65 and you ask "When did I first know?" I always knew."

And just when I thought it was probably not about me, I saw a word that was also scratched at the end of the lyrics and I could swear it started with a capital O. I grabbed the notebook, moving it up and putting the simple sheet where the song was written in the light. It appeared clearly. My name at the bottom. I didn't know why it was crossed out and I was not sure I wanted to know. but as I re-read the lyrics for the tenth time, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. It was a wedding song.

After a few minutes, I finally started moving again. I cleaned the living room, washed the dishes, started laundry and even started cleaning the windows. All while thinking about the song, the lyrics hitting inside my brain and doing something incredible to my heart : something I hadn't felt ever before. I would never tell him but if Niall asked me to marry him at this exact moment, I would say yes. Was it because of the great time we had the night before? Or maybe because we were so happy together these days? I had no idea. But I knew I'd say yes in a heartbeat. Tomorrow, I couldn't tell you what my answer would be but today? It would be a million times yes.

I saw him walk behind me in the reflection of the now extra clean windows and my lips immediately curled. He placed himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning his chin on my shoulder, and suddenly, I felt so much better than I did only a few minutes ago, even if I was still happy before.

"You should have waken me up." he whispered in my ear. "I would have helped you. Especially that you're cleaning wearing only a shirt and panties. I'd love to see you on all four as you clean the floor."

I laughed and raised my nose up as he kissed a spot near my ear. It was not only my love for him that made my heart jump when he was near, it was more than that. It was who he was, who I hoped he would always be.

"Tell me you'll always do that, that you'll always say things like that."

He pulled away slightly and turned his head more to look at me. I waited for his answer but he was waiting for me to look at him and I gave in, my eyes finally meeting his.

"Hold you? Kiss you? Tell you that I love and lust you?" he asked low, raising his eyebrows. I bit my bottom lip and nodded. "I promise. I swear. You have my words. And my heart. And my body, soul and mind."

My traits softened and I turned in his arms to face him, wrapping mine around his neck, moving my chin up to kiss him. He pushed me gently against the window as we kissed and I felt my butt press against it, making me chuckle.

"I'm gonna have to clean that window again." I let out with a smile as he chuckled against my lips.

"Or, you know, we can leave it like that." he proposed, shrugging a shoulder. "Your butt print seems like a nice decoration."

I'm the one who laughed this time. "You? Leaving a dirty window without touching it? Who are you trying to fool, Horan?"

"Don't call me that." he just said in a serious tone, raising his eyebrows.

"Or what?"I asked, teasing him with a sassy voice.

"Or I'm gonna tickle you." he pointed out, making my heart skip a beat. "I'm gonna tickle you until you beg me to stop."

"Sure, Horan." I tried to provoke him, putting emphasis on his last name.

He stared at me for a few seconds but suddenly and quickly, he picked me up and brought me to the couch. I was surprised that he could actually support my weight and he finally let me fall on the couch as I bounced on the cushions but he quickly straddled me, grabbing my wrists and pulling them over my head. When was the last time we played like that? It had been so long I couldn't remember.

"Apologize now." he ordered, looking down at me.

I could feel his grip tighten on my wrists and I licked my lips. "Never."

"Last chance." he let out, making me smirk.

"Bite me, Horan."

Quickly, he brought his free hand to my waist and started tickling me. Immediately, I started squirming, trying to get out of his grip as I let out a few high pitched yells. It made him laugh and it made me remember how much I hated to be tickled. After a while, he stopped and my lips parted as I started panting.

"You looking like that? God. Makes me want to tie you up and have my way with you."

I let out a short laughter and he started tickling me again until I started screaming his name.

"Niall! Niall stop! I c-can't!"

He did as I asked and smirked. "Beg me." he let out, shaking his eyebrows. "Apologize and beg me."

"Mm, I'm so sorry, Niall." I whispered with puppy eyes. "Please I'm begging you, stop tickling me?"

"Don't you fucking pout like that, it makes me want to fuck your mouth."

I laughed louder this time, tilting my head back slightly and closing my eyes as I felt his hand run up my breasts.

"And you say I'm the horny one!"

"Heyyy!" he argued with a frown. "I fingered you last night and I didn't cum at all, remember?"

My smirk disappeared and I just smiled at him. "You want to cum now?"

He groaned and raised his nose up. "I feel like all we do is fuck."

I shrugged and he finally let go of my wrists. I brought my hands to his pants and slid one in them, raising my eyebrows again but in surprise this time.

"You went commando?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he reached for my shirt and moved it up to expose my breasts as I took his cock out of his pants, stroking him slowly with both my hands. He breathed in and then out, letting out a very short whimper and one of his hands moved back to reach between my legs. He moved two of his fingertips on my panties, brushing against my clit and I pressed my lips together. I tried to focus on what my hands were doing and spit on his cock before running my fingers right under his tip. He groaned and brought his hand back to grab one of my breasts hard and I started stroking him harder.

"That feels so fucking good." he admitted, running his thumb on my nipple. "I tried doing that to myself and it just doesn't work. It has to be your hands."

I didn't tell him but it probably could have been anyone's hands except his and even if he probably knew it, I didn't want to point it out just in case. He took his cock in his hands, making me hold my breath and take my hands away and quickly, he tapped his cock on my tits before rubbing his tip on my nipples.

"Please, petal, push your tits together."

My heart jumped so high in my chest that I had to swallow it back.

"Niall, I don't think my boobs are big enough to-"

"Do it." he cut me.

I bit my bottom lip and did as he asked, just watching him spit in his hand and rub his cock again. My lips parted when he put his cock between my breasts and he was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't even look at me again. I could pretend otherwise but watching him using me to cum was actually exciting and when he groaned, I pressed my thighs together as I felt my pussy throb. I loved the feeling of his cock sliding quickly between my breasts and the thought in itself was driving me insane. After a while, he took his dick back in his hand and started jerking off harder until his lips parted.

"Jesus Christ." he whispered as I held my breath.

He shook slightly over me, moaning low as his cum spurted on my chest and breasts. I just remained motionless as he came down from his high, letting out a low 'fuck" and rubbing his tip on my nipples again, spreading his cum on me.

He sighed and sat on me, putting his cock back in his pants as I stared at him and he shook his head.

"I'm so.. so sorry. I was just so..."

"Horny? Yea I noticed." I chuckled, letting my lips curl as he finally looked back at me.

"I didn't really give you much attention, did I?" he asked, raising his nose up. I could read guilt on his face and my lips curled. "I'm sorry, pet."

"I'm just... I'm glad I made you cum. Didn't think that would be so exciting, but it was." I admitted, pulling my shirt back over my breasts as he laughed. "Also didn't think it was possible with my boobs."

"Your boobs are perfect." he pointed out before getting up and holding his hand out for me.

I put my hand in his and his fingers gripped mine as he helped me get up, letting his eyes roam on my face. He bent down to kiss me and I closed my eyes at the way it made my heart jump in my chest.

"Lazy day yea?" he proposed in a breath, his mouth still pressed against mine. "You go take a shower and I'll close all the curtains, find a good tv show to binge on netflix, and order something, chinese maybe?"

I nodded quickly and smiled. "That sounds perfect."

I took a quick shower and put on a pair of his sweatpants and one of his shirts and when I got back in the living room, he had brought pillows and blankets, a few beers and was waiting for me with the remote in hands. I stared at him for a while, just trying to live the moment and realize how lucky I was, before finally sitting next to him. He looked up at me with a smile and I pushed the pillows away to lean against his chest as his back was against the side of the couch. His legs were spread but they moved a bit close to both my sides, kind of to trap me close to him. He tried to put the blanket over us and I helped him before squirming slightly to be more comfortable.

"Hey, watch the goods, yea?"

I laughed but still took care of where I was moving and he wrapped one of his arms around me.

"Remember this spot because food will be there in half an hour and we're gonna have to do it all over again." he said, making me groan and making him laugh. "Seriously though, it feels good to have you here with me just to have a lazy day."

I felt my heart swell and smiled more, turning to kiss his jaw gently. He looked down and his lips met mine and he deepened the kiss just as the first episode of a series we both wanted to watch started.

"How will I be able to focus on anything but you today, mm?" I let out, half-joking.

He rolled his eyes with a low chuckle and we both focused on the tv for a while. I groaned when the doorbell rang and he laughed again. I sat up to let him get up and when he came back with the food, I realized how hungry I was. we ate again in silence but I couldn't stop glancing at him. There was something endearing in the way he used his chopsticks to push the noddles in his mouth and I only realized I was staring when he turned his gaze to me and chuckled. I blinked a few times and looked away as he swallowed his food.

"It's okay, you can stare. I stare at you too, you know. You just don't notice."

I felt my heart jump in my chest and put my food away.

"Just like I stared at you for about twenty minutes in the middle of the night." I confessed, making him frown. "You were sitting here, in only your boxers, and you were writing. You were so focused on what you were doing that you never noticed me."

I couldn't add that I had found him gorgeous with his messy hair and his tired eyes. I couldn't say that I had felt a wave of love so strong that I almost started crying. I couldn't tell him that because it still embarrassed me to be so in love with him. Not because I didn't want to be, but because I was scared I would end up losing him again.

His lips curled into a smile and he pushed the air out of his lungs. "I was writing a song. For you. About you."

My lips crashed against his and he replied to the kiss quickly, pushing his tongue deep in my mouth as I whimpered. He didn't know that I had read it and I suddenly felt guilty but he literally confirmed that his lyrics were about me and somehow, it made me ecstatic. So ecstatic that I surprised myself wishing he'd ask me to marry him as soon as our lips would part.

"I didn't know if I should tell you but, Olivia, I'm so happy we're both single right now. I know it's wrong to say that but fuck, I'm happy with you. Just you and I. No guilt, no stress, no question. You and me, living this moment."

I kissed him again, not knowing what to answer. I was happy too. I was happier than I had ever been, even before we broke up, and I didn't want anything to change. I didn't want to jinx this by claiming my happiness out loud. I didn't want to risk this happiness with an official relationship because last time didn't end well. It was ridiculous. All my fears made no sense, but it didn't make them vanish to know that.

"I love you, Niall." I whispered, leaving small kisses slowly on his mouth, jaw and cheeks. "I love you more than anything. No one is you."

He finally let go of his chopsticks to cup my face and he breathed in before his mouth found mine again.

"I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life." he murmured quickly before kissing me again.

My heart jumped when I recognized the lyrics and it made me wonder how often he talked to me with his own lyrics. I wanted to hear all of them. One time, twice, three times... a hundred fucking times. I wanted him to play me all the songs that were for me, to sing them, to whisper them, to yell them. I wanted him to make love to me while he'd do it, to hold my hand as we walked outside as he'd sing, to fucking marry me as he'd yell. I wanted him to claim his love for me until I'd be tired to hear it. And deep down, I knew I'd never be.

"I have a weekend left before I leave for tour." he just said sadly, breaking my heart. "I thought we could leave. Pack a bag, take the road, only you and me, for a few days."

My lips curled so much that my cheeks started hurting and I quickly nodded. I really wanted to spend quality time with him while it was still possible and I kissed his lips again.

"That's a yes?" he made sure as I nodded. "Okay then, we're leaving in 3 days. So cancel all the plans you had."

I laughed and licked my lips, licking his at the same time because of the proximity of our mouths.

"Niall? I'm sorry, I had planned to spend all my days with you but this super hot guy just asked me on a road trip so I'm gonna have to rain check."

He laughed and shook his head slightly. "Dork."

He pulled away slightly to stare at me as we completely forgot the show playing. I grabbed the remote and put it on pause before looking back at him and tilting my head. I needed him more than I ever needed him before and it was scaring me so bad I could feel my heart trying to escape my rib cage in intense thumps.

"Tell me you love me." I whispered as I bit my bottom lip nervously. "Please, Niall."

His face changed and he moved closer. I thought he'd kiss me again but instead, he got serious and I felt him grab my hands.

"I love you, Olivia. I'm in love with you. I never stopped, not one second. And I never will. Do you want me to repeat it every day? At which frequency? Every 6 hours? 4 hours? Two? I'll put a damn alarm on my phone to tell you in the middle of the night if I have to." he said in a soft tone. "I know it was different when we dated, but I will never let you believe that you are not perfect the way you are, that you are not everything I want and need, or that you are not loved. Never again. I swear, Olivia. I fucking love you."

#niall horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan story #niall horan writing #my fanfics #yam #i liked the chapter and now idk why but i dont anymore

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needtherapy · 4 years

Text

to be human is a haunting, Part 1

A love story for Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen

In a modern world, in a modern city that still has need for cultivators, Song Lan

(war hero, rogue cultivator, orphan)

goes for a run in the park, kills a dankang, makes a friend, and meets a beautiful man with a dog, all before he has to go to therapy. It's the best day he's had in ten years.

Read more Kristina Writes Tiny Stories

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Read over on AO3 instead

Title from molly ofgeography’s song Runaway, Run

Rated E for Explicit sexy times, mild demon killing, and swearing.

Part 1

Song Lan wakes to the sound of screaming

familiar

too familiar

and he knows it is his own voice seconds

long seconds

before he can snap his mouth closed around the last trailing sob.

The thrum of the city leaks back in, pushing past the roaring in his ears, and reminds him to ground himself. The clean white walls of the stark room around him. The feel of the bed underneath him, the smell of lemon dryer sheets, the glow of the neon light across the street. All known. All safe. He skips the taste of morning breath.

If he could remember the nightmares, the exact details, maybe he’d tell his therapist. It would at least give them something to talk about instead of the silent hour he wastes twice a week now.

No. That’s a lie. He knows what’s in them. He still wouldn’t talk about it.

The clock by his bed claims it’s 5:04 am, a fairly reasonable time to be awake, so he gets up. May as well get his run over with.

— ⚔ —

“Do you run every day,” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan nods.

Dr. Wen writes something down.

“Do you enjoy running?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan nods.

Dr. Wen writes something down.

“Why do you enjoy it?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan shrugs.

Dr. Wen writes something down.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan doesn’t really enjoy running any more than he enjoys digesting food. But it’s too ingrained in him now, the rhythm of air and feet and arms. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to. It is the anchor of his day.

Ten miles covers a lot of the city, and as familiar as it is, as long as he’s lived and run here, it looks different every morning, like noticing a light freckle on the back of his wrist. When it’s cloudless before dawn like today, he runs down the lakeshore path to watch the sunrise at the halfway mark. On cue, with all the fanfare and flourish of a seasoned professional, at 6:17 am, the sun erupts in yellow and pink over the horizon and turns the water to diamonds. It looks like magic every time.

This he loves and doesn’t have to lie about.

Song Lan is two miles from his place, running through the park, when the skin on the back of his neck prickles, and he slows his pace. Is it a hundred yards away? Maybe closer? He opens his mind and sends out a questing wave of qi from his core. He doesn’t know if he needs to draw the sword strapped to his back yet. There’s no one else around. Maybe whatever it is will just...mind its own business.

He doesn’t hunt anymore, not actively, but he still runs with his sword. It’s just habit, probably. He would feel incomplete without Fuxue’s weight between his shoulder blades. And even if he doesn’t go looking for danger, danger is often waiting.

Without warning, an enormous dankang explodes from the bushes by the running path and careens toward him. The green pelt that had camouflaged it glows in the early morning light, and Song Lan is swinging Fuxue almost before the sword is even in his hand. The boar roars in a very un-pig-like way, and he idly wonders, as the blade cuts into the demon’s hide, what the taxonomic difference between dankang and pigs is. Are they different families? Orders? Or is there some divergence further back? It squeals in pain but doesn’t give up the attack, changing direction mid-stride and flashing wicked yellow tusks at him.

It takes six strikes to kill the monster. He always counts. The counting, like the running, is an integral part of him. One downward hack. One thrust to the shoulder. One spinning jab in the dankang’s ribs. Two upward slashes. One strike in the throat and the beast is dead.

Song Lan texts the Nie cleanup crew his coordinates and takes a thin cloth from his pocket to wipe the blood off of Fuxue, dropping it on to the body when he’s done. He’ll clean the sword properly when he gets back.

“Six strikes,” a voice says from behind him, and he whirls, surprised to be surprised. “Was it luck, or are you really that good?”

There’s a man in a long trench coat standing on the path with a dog sitting next to him. The dog is one of those scruffy brown mutts that would be completely ordinary in every way except it looks far too clever to be a dog. It cocks its head and one floppy ear flips inside out.

The man is backlit by a golden ray of sun

not ordinary

in no way ordinary

and Song Lan can’t see his features clearly enough, not from this distance

a hundred and thirty-three feet

wind from the east

but it looks like he might be carrying a sword.

— ⚔ —

Sometimes in therapy, Song Lan counts the holes in the acoustical ceiling tiles.

Sometimes he counts the colored pencils on Dr. Wen’s desk.

Sometimes he counts the number of times Dr. Wen spins his pen in his fingers, waiting for Song Lan to answer a question. Any question.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan counts to seven before he answers, the numbers slowing his heartbeat.

“It was one more than last time.”

The man laughs, a bright chime of bells that wrinkles his nose. The dog looks up at its master, and its mouth drops open in a doggy grin.

“Clearly a failure, then. I hope the next time I see you, you will have improved.”

Song Lan is distracted by his voice, deeper than he expects, more musical than he expects, and he’s acutely disappointed when the man turns and walks away, the dog at his heels. He’s almost overcome by the impulse to call the man back, just so he can see his face again, so he can decide if it’s real or not.

“I’m here every day at 7 am,” the man calls over his shoulder before he disappears around a corner. Or maybe he disappears into a beam of light. Song Lan can easily believe either.

He takes one step to follow, and then realizes what he’s doing. It’s ridiculous. He takes a second step anyway. But a woman is suddenly at his elbow, handing him a clipboard, asking for his ID and signature. He has no idea how the cleaners got there so fast.

“I haven’t seen a dankang in this park before, have you?” the woman asks.

Song Lan shakes his head.

“Yeah, they usually prefer the suburbs. More hedge rows,” she says, and Song Lan isn’t sure if this requires an answer, so he doesn’t.

She takes the clipboard when he’s finished and peers at it. “Oh, I should have known. You’re the silent rogue—not technically a hunter, but still has more kills than most of the competitive cultivators? Wild!”

Silent rogue, he wonders. As opposed to what?

The woman hands him a card as her team finishes loading the demon into a step van.

“Luo Qingyang. Call me directly next time. I have an office competition to win.” She winks at him and saunters away.

By the time Song Lan gets to the corner where the man disappeared, there’s only cars and pedestrians and noise, and it’s 7:30 am. He has somewhere to be at 9 am, and he doesn’t want to be asked why he’s late.

— ⚔ —

“Dankang?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan’s eyes flinch, glancing up in confusion.

“Well, that was almost an answer,” Dr. Wen says cheerfully.

Song Lan frowns.

“If you want to know, you’re going to have to ask,” Dr. Wen says, eyebrows raised in what might almost be a challenge.

Song Lan doesn’t care. He really doesn’t.

“How did you know?” his voice says anyway, low and soft. Maybe no one heard the question, and Song Lan can pretend it didn’t happen.

To his credit, Dr. Wen doesn’t gloat, but he smiles. Song Lan suspects he’s not going to be able to stay silent forever after all.

— ⚔ —

Song Lan takes a shower after therapy, not only to wash the tattling green dankang fur out of his hair, but scalding enough to burn the words off his skin.

I’m here every day at 7 am

Is he really going to feel like he is fluttering at the end of a rope for the next twenty hours

twenty hours and seventeen minutes

until tomorrow’s 7 am?

Evidently, yes. The shower doesn’t shake the man’s voice loose from his thoughts. Neither does lunch, the library, an episode of a cooking show in a tent, weights, two more episodes of the show—whatever a kouign amann is, he wants one—and sixty pages of Dune. He doesn’t even bother trying to work.

Song Lan makes a salad for dinner, neatly arranging paper-thin slices of carrot, cucumber, jicama, apple, and red onion on a bed of dark green leaves and half a chicken breast. He likes salads that are more toppings than lettuce, so he throws almond slivers and cranberries in his bowl too. “Love yourself enough to make a salad,” is practically the only thing he’s learned in therapy. He’s not sure about loving himself, but he’s pretty fond of salad.

He takes his meds before bed, turns on the white noise, and for once, falls asleep before the world spins into a new day.

— ⚔ —

“Do you blame yourself?”

Song Lan keeps on the blank face he’s so familiar with and stares over Dr. Wen’s shoulder at the photograph of three black cats sitting in a window.

“If you don’t blame yourself, who do you blame?”

Song Lan does not narrow his eyes. Or maybe he does, because Dr. Wen tips his head and gives him a piercing look.

“Even if you’d gotten there sooner, Song Lan, what could you have done? Tell me one thing you could have done.” Dr. Wen almost sounds like he’s pleading.

What I should have done, he thinks. Die with them, he thinks.

— ⚔ —

The man is there at 7 am, sitting on a bench.

With the dog, who is also sitting on the bench.

And that face.

Oh, the face is worse, actually, because Song Lan can see it clearly now. The man smiles when he sees Song Lan, a curving, curling, invitation of a smile on a mouth that looks like a bow without an arrow. The angle of his cheekbones, the graceful lines that can’t fairly be called anything as mundane as dimples, make Song Lan wonder if the rumors of fae in this country are true. The man’s eyes tip up at the corners when he notes Song Lan’s inspection of him, and Song Lan stops moving, maybe stops breathing.

The dog sticks its wet nose in Song Lan’s hand, and he jerks back, staring down at the animal. He doesn’t like to be touched, even by animals, but he isn’t angry, just surprised. He’s just surprised. He can’t understand why he’s just surprised.

“She’s inviting you to sit,” the man says, laughter in his voice.

The dog snorts at Song Lan, a chuffing noise that sounds like she is laughing at him, too.

“Is she?” Song Lan asks, and the man grins

an unfairly perfect expression of genes

and shakes his head.

“No. But I am. Will you join us?”

Song Lan sits on the bench on the other side of the dog.

“A-Qing, get on the ground like a normal dog,” the man scolds.

The dog harrumphs but stands, delicately sets her front feet on the ground one at a time and stretches her long body the rest of the way, as slowly as caninely possible. Song Lan feels the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I’m Xingchen,” the man says, his lips shifting to a different kind of smile, a tip of the hat friendly smile.

He is wearing a white sweater, a white scarf, baggy white pants, and his name is stardust. Of course it is. Song Lan wonders if it’s a real name or one he’s invented.

“No last name?” Song Lan asks, and the man laughs again. Song Lan can’t imagine what it must be like to have so much laughter bottled inside him. Even before the war, before the massacre that took everything from him, laughter was a precious commodity, not something anyone would squander in the park on a cloudy day with a man like him.

“If I tell you my last name, you’ll think I made it up,” Xingchen says, and it’s so close to Song Lan’s thoughts, he tips his head, realizing belatedly that he looks like the dog when he does it.

Xingchen’s face shifts to mischief, and Song Lan’s mouth feels dry, chasing a mirage in the desert, only to discover it’s real. “You tell me your first name, and I’ll tell you my last name,” Xingchen says.

“Zichen,” Song Lan says immediately, without thinking, without the capacity for thought. He backpedals. “No one calls me that anymore, though. I’m just Song Lan.”

He has not been anyone’s treasured child in three years. He only thinks of himself as the mist now. It’s easier to be insubstantial, just passing through, nothing to see here.

“Oh no, you must be Zichen. Precious child, treasured seed,” Xingchen says in a singsong voice like it’s a line from a song or a poem. “Song Zichen, I’m Xiao Xingchen. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Would you like to have breakfast? With us?”

Song Lan does think it’s a made up name now, but he could have said his name was Horsehead Nebula, and Song Lan would still say yes.

“Yes, thank you.”

Xingchen stands and a-Qing, who had been laying on her back in the grass, snaps to attention, dashing over to lean against his left leg, looking up at him with clear adoration.

It hadn’t been a sword.

It is a cane.

“Well?” Xingchen asks. “Are you coming? I’ll tell you about it on the way, if you like.”

Song Lan nods, and then answers out loud, in case the nod was stupid and thoughtless. “Yes.”

— ⚔ —

“Do you have friends?” Dr. Wen asks.

Song Lan frowns at the rude question, which inexplicably makes Dr. Wen grin.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says. “How about this? Do you want friends, Song Lan?”

Song Lan doesn’t give an answer, but Dr. Wen seems to think he sees one anyway.

“Well. What are you planning to do about that?”

— ⚔ —

Xingchen says it’s not that interesting of a story. He is slowly going blind. There is nothing anyone can do, and everyone has tried. Surgery. Magic. Lasers. Everyone. Everything. He says a-Qing is helpful. He says he decided to learn to use the cane now, while he can still see a little. He says all of it like it doesn’t matter, and it is Song Lan who is numb with the pain of a loss that isn’t even his. That he didn’t even know about until five minutes ago.

Oh, and Xingchen says he does have a sword, actually, but it seemed like bad manners to bring it on a first date

first date

implying date

implying subsequent dates

even if he hadn’t been entirely sure Song Lan would show up.

Breakfast is in a diner not much wider than a dead dankang, and they tuck into a booth in the back. A-Qing lays on Song Lan’s feet, and it still doesn’t bother him. She’s warm, and he thinks he likes the way it feels when she rolls on her side and sighs.

They order pancakes and a poached egg for a-Qing. He tells Song Lan that a-Qing came from a local shelter because there’s no requirement that service dogs be purebred, they just usually are. He says it’s just harder to pick mixed breed dogs who will be good service dogs, but he didn’t pick a-Qing, she picked him.

“She scaled an eight-foot chain link fence and sat at my heel as though she’d been in service her whole life,” he says with a laugh, reaching his foot to poke a-Qing on the belly and accidentally brushing Song Lan’s leg.

It is a very good thing, Song Lan thinks, that he is accustomed to hiding his reaction to being touched because the feel of Xiao Xingchen’s foot rubbing against his leg makes him suddenly, painfully, embarrassingly hard, and he can vividly recall what it was like to be a teenager in want of a very large notebook to hold in front of himself.

Song Lan rarely eats food he doesn’t make, even more rarely eats fluffy pancakes drenched in butter and syrup, and he has no idea why. They taste like heaven, and watching Xingchen eat is...an experience. He cuts his food precisely, examines every piece, and closes his eyes when he chews, as if each mouthful is a fine wine he plans to savor. He finishes in twenty bites.

“Is your name made up?” Song Lan finally can’t resist asking, and Xingchen shrugs.

“Aren’t all names?”

Song Lan snorts, almost a laugh. “Is it the name you were born with?”

“No one is born with a name, Zichen.” Xingchen sounds like he is very seriously and very patiently explaining why the sky is blue, and Song Lan wants to shake him.

But that makes Song Lan think about laying his fingers on Xingchen’s shoulders, caressing his skin, grazing his collarbone with his thumb, and he shudders, blinking for a heartbeat too long.

“It is my real name,” Xingchen says softly, touching the back of Song Lan’s hand tentatively, as though he understands it might not be welcome. It aches like a spark from an autumn campfire. “My mother is a bit of a hippie, and I was a beautiful baby.”

This time it is a laugh. A real laugh. He hasn’t laughed in so long, he forgot what it would sound like, how it would feel to vibrate through his chest, how it could turn to tears. He covers his eyes with his hand

not the hand Xingchen is touching

and tries to turn back the choking gasp that catches in his throat and forces its way out.

Xingchen doesn’t ask, just holds Song Lan’s hand and waits.

“You are a beautiful adult,” Song Lan says, when he can swallow again, and Xingchen smiles.

“So are you. Although, I have no idea what you looked like as a baby. This could be a recent development. Maybe you were hideously ugly a year ago.”

Now he sounds like he’s teasing, and Song Lan looks at him. Xingchen’s head is propped on one hand, and his expression is both curious and evaluating.

“Would you like to come home with me?” Xingchen asks, threading his fingers through Song Lan’s as though it is completely natural, and somehow, it is. His fingers fit perfectly into the spaces between Song Lan’s. The flames that spill from his fingertips into Song Lan’s arm and flow through his blood whisper the answer.

It is the easiest thing in the world to give them voice and say yes.

Read Part 2 Here

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #songxiao #xiao xingchen #song lan #a qing #luo qingyang #wen ning #kristina writes tiny stories #this one is sort of medium sized #some serious stuff #but mostly cute songxiao #therapy dog #dog #moral of the story: therapy works

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shark-myths · 4 years

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@alienfuckeronmain tagged me to deep-search my soul with these questions, and it is the exact distraction I was looking for! no pressure to do this one, pals, but i tag @carbonbased000 @leyley09 @shoeboxofphotographs12 @glitterandrocketfuel @allkindsofplatinumandpercocet @setting-in-a-honeymoon @toorational and anyone i’ve forgotten!

1. Do you prefer writing with a black pen or blue pen? does anyone like blue pens? who is this product made for

2. Would you prefer to live in the country or city? the city, cuz i spent 7 consecutive years very broke in rural areas with homophobia neighbors and having things to do is so thrilling. but i imagine one day retreating into the desert and living far from my nearest neighbors

3. If you could learn a new skill what would it be? I have learned all the skills I am interested in right now, because learning new things is an a+ quarantine activity. maybe the ability to do physics? i would like to be proficient in physics and i am deeply not

4. Do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? Never

5. What was your favourite book as a child? all of them! I have always read like i’m running out of time and often get stressed when i think about how few books i will be able to read in my lifetime. as a child I reread Lord of the Rings and Robin McKinley and the Holly Black Tithe series the most, and i was OBSESSED with those gold-paged books with ribbon bookmarks that were diaries of girls from different historical periods, and i have never been able to read historical fiction since.

6. Do you prefer baths or showers? I hated baths passionately until my chronic pain reached a tipping point, and since then i have learned to really enjoy the long hot soak with a drink and a book. (i didn’t like showers either until very recently. life support tasks felt like a huge waste of time until i got a partner who helped me figure out how to enjoy them)

7. If you could be a mythical creature, which one would it be? i have always wanted to be one of tolkien’s elves! I want a long life filled with learning languages and reading books and existing in green peaceful spaces, and then i want to be able to die when i am done.

8. Paper or electronic books? I like paper better--I’ve been building a library slowly my whole life--but my kindle has been life-saving during the pandemic when i couldn’t go to the library.

9. What is your favourite item of clothing? right now i’m doing all my work remotely and clothes feel meaningless, but i have a plain black tank top that i feel really comfortable in

10. Do you like your name or would you like to change it? I don’t like my name at all--it’s Kaylie--because it is so aggressively peppy and feminine. it doesn’t sounds like an adult’s name; it evokes exclamation points and pigtails. i have always wished for a severe, no-nonsense name like joan, or a pretty but to-the-point name like eva.

11. Who is a mentor to you? Leslie Knope

12. Would you like to be famous and if so, what for? I used to fantasize about being a famous writer, and now in my field i do wish i had a name that mattered or was considered esteemed or expert in something in some way. I would love to have a research job where i had paid time to publish! but i don’t want it enough to work on it outside of my capitalist mandatory labor hours, because i don’t have enough time for my loved ones as it is

13. Are you a restless sleeper? lately yes, since my cat died in january i have slept like absolute hell

14. Do you consider yourself a romantic person? not really, but i am a thoughtful one

15. Which element best represents you? earth

16. Who do you want to be closer to? physically i want to be closer to my long-distance pals like @alienfuckeronmain @newleafover @time-less @immoral-crow @leyley09 (leyna let’s have a movie night when i’m done moving???)

17. Do you miss someone at the moment? pretty much all my friends i used to regularly hang out with, sam who moved to seattle, sam who lives in madison, all the people i listed above

18. Tell us about an early childhood memory. I used to play going to work. i’d pack up a backgammon case as a briefcase, grab my stuffed gorilla, and go write in notebooks and move pieces of paper around

19. What is the strangest thing you have eaten? I am an extremely boring person and all I eat is popcorn and bread

20. What are you most thankful for? having an able body that works to support me and keep me whole, having a partner who makes me feel truly cared for

21. Do you like spicy food? yep!

22. Have you ever met someone famous? once at c2e2 i met george r.r. martin and no one else cared he existed because got wasn’t a show yet, so i awkwardly went up to him and proclaimed my love for his work, and then he trapped me in a long conversation about vampires

23. Do you do you keep a diary or journal? a journal! i have since i was pretty small, they take up a full shelf of a bookcase

24. Do you prefer to use a pen or a pencil? pen, and i have lots of Special Pens that i only use for a particular purpose or project, because i am a huge raging...

25. What is your star sign? virgo

26. Do you like your cereal soggy or crunchy? crunchy and without milk

27. What would you want your legacy to be? personally, that I wrote things that meant something to the people who read them; professionally, that i removed barriers to accessing healthcare for trans and gender expansive people

28. Do you like reading, what was the last book you read? see above--I completely adore reading. last book was Sisters of the Vast Black and currently i’m reading The House in the Cerulean Sea and it’s totally charming. I’ve been reading really quality science and nonfiction writing too, please send me your recommendations

29. How do you show someone you love them? I make them breakfast, I tell them so constantly, I send them things in the mail, I bring them small interesting gifts, and I say every nice thought I have about them out loud

30. Do you like ice in your drinks? not especially, but it’s fun to chew on

31. What are you afraid of? surgery

32. What is your favourite scent? smoke from blown-out candles, lavender, laundry detergent my loved ones use

33. Do you address older people by their name or surname? whatever they’ve told me to call them? this seems like common courtesy

34. If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? I do so much less clinical work and work fewer hours in general, I would run for office so I could influence policy and stop wasting my fucking time on the ground level, I would spend more time writing, I would spend so much more time with my family, I would devote the time to running longer distances again in a way that doesn’t aggravate my busted knee

35. Do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? the ocean!

36. What would you do if you found £50 on the ground? oh i would definitely spend that on something stupid and self-indulgent i wanted, like a pete wentz hoodie

37. Have you ever seen a shooting star? YES! when i was kid every summer i’d be sent to jesus camp, which thank god because that’s what got me into fanfiction, and it was in the middle of nowhere, wisconsin, and you could see the entire milky way and shooting stars blaze across that thing ALL THE TIME, and it shook me to my foundation every summer and for a time i mistook that feeling for faith in god instead of wonder at the infinite being and possibility that is our generous universe

38. What is the one thing you would want to teach your children? i have none of my own but my partner has a 5 year old, so quite against my intention i have become a parent-adjacent person. i try to teach him about emotional accountability for the effect of his actions on others

39. If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? the next tattoo i want is a big snake crawling up my mostly bare left arm

40. What can you hear now? my laptop fan

41. Where do you feel the safest? when i’m protecting someone else

42. What is the one thing you want to overcome/conquer? my relationship with my body

43. Of you could travel back to any era, what would it be? i’d really like to be a gentleman of leisure in a jane austen novel

44. What is your most used emoji? the purple heart

45. Describe yourself using one word. earnest

46. What do you regret the most? not going to a 4-year university and having a #college experience. it’s one of my most stinging regrets because it was not a decision i got to make for myself

47. Last movie you saw? what is a movie theater? what does it feel like to be in one? the last movie i watched is charlie’s angels from the early 2000s because that was an unexamined sexual awakening for me--lucy liu being efficient in leather has never left me, efficiency is the single trait i most attracted to--and i wanted my boyfriend to see how bad it is

48. Last tv show you watched? either Kipo and the age of the wonderbeasts or star trek tng!

49. Invent a word and its meaning. instead i will say that i think the most beautiful english word is ache. my favorite way of creating things is transforming and remixing what already exists, which makes writing with words someone else invented the ideal challenge and pastime

(i really loved doing this! it was nice to talk about myself at the end of a workweek. thank you @alienfuckeronmain !)

#tags #about me #a humble shark

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there-will-be-a-way · 4 years

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1/?? ok so first off im really sorry for sending this ask but you seem as good a person to ask as any. dont feel any pressure to answer or even read through this all tho if you dont want to. this will be a really long series of asks so definitely feel free to ignore them if they overwhelm you, because i cant really keep my thoughts straight atm, but ill number them all and sign off with a '- H.'

2/?? So for starters, I’m not asking for a diagnosis, obviously you’re not a therapist, I’m just asking for any advice/opinions you might have and want to offer up. So I’m 19, I dropped out of school when I was seventeen, almost never attended before that, tried to get a job a few months ago but was fired after a few days of work because I stopped showing up (I was in a numb, dissociative state for the full work days, and I had to get drunk just to be able to have the courage to go in) - H

3/?? I was diagnosed with anxiety, depression, autism and c-ptsd all when I was 16 because it was obvious that I was having a lot of trouble functioning in society and socialising with anyone. I have always dissociated a LOT, having out-of-body experiences, talking to people without feeling like I was really personally choosing my words and they were instead just coming out of my mouth from nowhere, feeling numb and having a lot of problems with memory. - H

4/?? I thought for a little while at the beginning of this year that I might have DID because of all the dissociation and occasionally having short spurts of lost time, but I quickly dismissed it because I didn’t think I had any other personalities in my body (I don’t know if that’s the right way to talk about them, forgive me if I say something confusing or wrong, I didn’t know much about DID until very recently). - H

5/?? Anyway, in recently I found your blog and looked through a few of your posts (not many, just the last couple of pages here), and I thought, what if I do have personalities? I often feel like im not fully in control of myself and I have heard voices before, although it doesn’t happen much and I never connected either of these to a definitive personality. - H

6/?? So I decided to try to separate myself into different people (I don’t think that’s the right term but bear with me) and I came up with a list of nine initially. And the more I tried to categorise my behaviour/opinions/hobbies into each of them the more afraid I got, because I think i might actually have DID after all? It was very easy to do, and its very easy for me to see everyone as seperate entities - H

7/?? Except im nineteen so surely SOMEONE would have noticed I had it before now? Even if I didn’t, someone else should have? Although most people who know me would probably write off my behaviour as a combination of the effects of aspergers and ptsd, so they wouldn’t even consider something else. - H

8/?? Also, I read about switching, and different personalities having very distinct voices and presences and I don’t know if its just that I haven’t examined these facets of myself before, but I don’t think I have that? Maybe i just need to think on it more than i have, but im worried im just lying to myself because im so desperate for answers as to why i am the way i am. - H

9/?? So ultimately what im saying is, I don’t know if im lying to myself or if it might be a real possibility I have DID. Just from what ive written here, do you think theres any way I could have it, or is it obvious I probably dont? I think it would be useful to know if it would help me get more in touch with myself, because a lot of the time I don’t even feel like a real person. - H

Hey there 👋🏻

First of all, you are brave for reaching out and wanting to figure out what's going on with you so go you! However, it would be irresponsible of me to judge your situation based on the little information I have about you - and this goes for any stranger on the internet. This is definitely something you should bring up with a therapist, if you can, especially since your symptoms seem to cause you a lot of distress and disrupt your everyday life. Whatever your symptoms stem from, you deserve professional help.

So yeah, my advice would be to bring this up with a therapist and be open to all possible explanations. In the end what matters isn't so much the diagnosis but getting help for your symptoms. In the meantime I'd advice you to look into grounding techniques and practice them since you obviously struggle with dissociation. It can also be helpful to keep a journal and write about your experiences.

Lastly, there is a common misconception in your ask that I'd like to clear up: Dissociative Identity Disorder most often is a covert disorder. The disorder's purpose isn't to make the most elaborated and noticeable 'personalities' but to survive severe childhood trauma. That means different things for different people - and therefore the disorder is different for everyone - but most often dissociated parts of self (= the 'personalities') are so covert that it's common even for therapists to not notice the person has DID. Many people with DID have parts that act very similar and are hard, even impossible for others to tell apart or notice.

Anyway, I hope you understand that I didn't not answer your question because I'm being mean but because I don't want to cause you harm by misjudging your situation (I'm just a stranger on the internet).

I really hope that you can get the help you deserve since what you describe does sound distressing and is worth looking into. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you and sending my support.

Take care!

#answering asks #anons #tw drinking mention #didn't not answer?#didn't answer not because?#I have no idea how to say this but you get what I mean #language machine broke

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tempesrature · 4 years

Text

The Case of the Murdered Witch Doctors | Chapter 4

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 The Charm of Lost Things (Oneshot Follow-up) Creative Process Note Commissioned Art Piece

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Colt Summary: “Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting.” - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: PG-16 @rodappreciationweek @lovehugsandcandy

~*~

“Un-hoooooly shit!” Toby exclaims as he circles around Ellie with his nose uncomfortably in her personal space. Her nose wrinkles lightly when she smells the heavy Fern Flower smoke smell on him. “Nothing! Literally nothing! I’ve never smelled anything like it! Xi, you gotta smell this!”

“I’m sorry about him sweetie,” Ximena sighs as shakes her head and places a hand on her hip. “I would be lying if I say he isn’t usually like this. My name’s Ximena and that guy there is Toby.”

“I’m Ellie. And it’s cool. I get it a lot,” Ellie grimaces a little when she feels the tip of Toby’s nose touch her cheek and she pushes his face away from her. “Although not usually this close. Is his nose broken or something?”

“It will be if he doesn’t take a step back,” Colt replies from somewhere behind her as he closes the door behind his office and stands next to Ellie. He looks at Ximena and Toby and gives them a nod. “Both of you leave for the nightclub. I have a guest tonight.”

Colt sends her a smirk and Ellie rolls her eyes before she waves goodbye to Ximena and Toby. The moment the shop’s doors close behind them, Colt turns to Ellie with a smug smile as he leans back to look at her from head to toe. Taking careful note of the red leather jacket and short black shirt she’s wearing.

“I like that you’re curious,” Colt smiles as he looks back up at her face and subtly licks his lips. “Although self-preservation doesn’t seem to be your best trait.”

Ellie scoffs and pushes past him to enter his office. “I could take you on Colt. I haven’t used my magic the entire day.”

“Aw, saving yourself up for me? I’m touched,” Colt snickers as he follows her and closes the door behind him with a click of the lock.

Ellie immediately drops herself on the couch with a heavy sigh as she leans back and tilts her head to the ceiling. Colt raises an eyebrow at her, wanting to ask about the sigh, but he stops himself when he realizes that he’ll need alcohol first if he’s going to be talking to her about anything.

“Anything new to share to the class?” Colt asks as opens the mini fridge and throws her a bottle of beer. Ellie catches it and eyes the bottle suspiciously. Colt scoffs as he takes a seat next to her, peels off bottle cap like a sticker and tosses it on the coffee table in front of them. “Do you really think I’m gonna make you drink blood?”

“Mm,” Ellie agrees as she gathers her magic between her middle finger and thumb and flicks open the bottle cap which causes a loud pop to fill the room and the bottle cap to shoot up and embed itself on his office ceiling.

Colt frowns as he looks up at the bottle cap’s round indent on the ceiling. “You witches really need to understand spatial awareness beyond your magical bubble.”

“Oh we understand. We just don’t care,” Ellie smiles smugly as she drinks her beer. Colt rolls his eyes but he can’t help the small smile that tugs on his lips. Ellie drinks about half of it and places it down on the coffee table before she uses her magic and flicks her wrist to bring up a projected investigation board of the Kilat murder. Colt leans in, still absolutely at awe at how crisp and clear the image’s she projects, as his eyes glow with gold while he quickly takes in the information in front of him.

“This is what I’ve gathered so far. I looked into why a vampire or magical creature could possibly want from albularyo blood since that’s the only thing missing as of now but so far I haven’t found anything. It doesn’t give them any extra powers or anything so this murder is personally, not magically, motivated.”

“Yeah, we usually avoid drinking from magical creatures,” Colt scrunches his nose a little. “The blood tastes like metal. It’s gross,” Colt furrows his eyebrows at the look she gives him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ellie opens her mouth, ready to explain to him what human blood tastes like but decides that it’s a losing battle and just shakes her head.

“Anyway, there was no forced entry in any of the doors, windows and portals. This is why I wasn’t so sure it was a vampire. Maybe a ghoul or a magical creature that can walk through solid objects? But Mr. Ernesto doesn’t mention any of those kinds of creatures as customers in his book.”

“Let me see the book.”

Ellie flicks her wrist and brings up a page the book. “Those crossed out are either dead, not currently in the country, or have been abducted by the fae. The rest I’ve interviewed and cleared of motive or had solid alibis during the time of the murder. I only have two left to question. Jason Shaw and a vampire named Tobias. Do you know anyone with that name? I’m having difficulties tracking them down.”

“No,” Colt replies. “But I’ll get my crew to ask around, it shouldn’t be that difficult.”

Ellie nods, a little relieved that that part of the investigation is handled by someone else. She’s already gotten a lot of heat and shit for stretching out this investigation into its second month. Mona, the head witch of her department, is being constantly pressured by the higher ups to hex the case as quickly as possible. Although Mona tries her best to keep them from interfering too much with Ellie’s work, she knows that it’s only going to be a matter of time before they forcefully stop the investigation.

“So you did all of this? In the last month?”

“Huh?” Ellie pulls herself out of her thoughts and turns to look at Colt who looks back at her with awe and disbelief. She shifts on her seat, suddenly feeling a little shy under his golden gaze, before she waves away the projected investigation board. “Uh yeah. It’s my first case after all. I need to show them that I can do this, even on my own. Nobody wanted to partner up with a half-witch.”

“This is your first case?” Colt whistles appreciatively as he leans back on the couch. “And you managed to rope me in, a Primordial, to help you. I’m impressed.”

“That was the easy part,” Ellie teases as she leans back on the couch next to him, her body suddenly feeling tired and achy. “It helps that my dad is a detective too. I got it from him.”

“Your…mortal dad?” Colt says cautiously, not really sure how to approach the conversation without insulting her for being a half-witch, but Ellie merely shrugs as if she’s heard the question a million times.

“Yeah. My mother was the witch,” She smiles fondly. “A great one too.”

Colt frowns. “Was?”

“Abducted by the fae five years ago.”

Colt grimaces a little, not really wanting to venture into his thoughts of what it’s like to be abducted by the fae. “She must’ve done something pretty shitty to anger the fae.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ellie says as she turns to look at him, her eyes boring into his. “The Coven disowned my mother when she married my dad. The Agency was advised by the Coven not to investigate since she was not, lineage-wise, a witch anymore. So they didn’t.”

“Ah,” Colt says in realization. “So this is why you’re so stubborn about this case.”

She smirks as her eyes shine with mischief. “I’m a cliché after all.”

Colt nods, his body unconsciously leaning closer to hers. “Never thought about investigating it yourself?”

“I want to but can’t,” She shrugs and uses her magic to raise and swirl the rest of her beer on the coffee table. “I promised my dad I wouldn’t do it. That’s the only condition he had when I said I wanted to join the Agency. He investigated my mother’s abduction himself for two years—nearly drove him mad.”

“Ever want to just burn it down?” Colt says as his eyes glow with a golden fire, his voice tight and pained. “The whole of the Agency, right down to its foundation. Maybe then the creatures that deserved justice will finally get it.”

“And what about future cases like Ana’s?” Ellie sighs as she crosses her arms in front of her and the bottle of beer lands on the coffee table with a thump. “I hate it as much as you do and let me tell you, there’s a lot that needs to change in the Agency but there are good people fighting inside too. For people like Ana, me…you. That’s why I chose to stay, why I choose to fight. For now, at least.”

“You are so fucking annoying,” Colt says as he leans into her, his body magnetized to hers. “But I’m starting to realize that I like that.”

Ellie smirks as she leans her face closer to his. “Like I said, one of my better qualities.”

She doesn’t know who closed the gap—him or her—but it’s definitely as fiery and explosive as the kiss they shared in the nightclub nights before.

Ellie swings her legs over his lap, her lips glued to his, as Colt drops the bottle of beer with a thud on the floor in favor of gripping her hips tight in his hands. He pulls her down to his lap, her hips pressed against his, and she slips past a small moan against his lips and he easily pushes his tongue in to taste her.

She hurriedly pushes his jacket off of his shoulders and he moves his hand underneath her skirt to grip her thighs tight in his hand, his nails digging into skin.

“Fuck I want to taste you,” Colt groans as he fits his face into the side of her neck, his fangs lightly scraping her unblemished skin. “I’m curious. What does the blood of a half-witch taste like?”

Ellie lets out a small moan and delves her hands into his hair, gripping tight, before she grinds her hips against his. “Don’t know. Never had reviews.”

Colt chuckles at the tail end of a moan, his eyes lighting up in dark gold as he presses his lips on her racing pulse point. “Should I do the honors?”

Ellie smiles, opening her mouth to accept his invention, when the shrill sound of her ringtone breaks her out of his spell. She quickly untangles her limbs from his, her red lipstick smeared on her lips and her skirt pulled up her legs. She looks at Colt sitting on the couch, a smug and satisfied look on his face. He brings up his thumb and swipes the red lipstick she’s left on him as he bares his fangs in delight, his golden eyes never leaving her blues.

Ellie blushes, her face heating up at the image, as she clumsily digs through her red leather jacket to fish out her phone. “Uh yeah. Ellie—Detective Wheeler speaking. Yeah, Ingrid. No, I’m not busy. Just give me a sec,” She turns to look at Colt and holds the phone to her chest to cover the receiver. “I need to go.”

Colt frowns but recovers quickly and flicks his wrist to the door, his voice teasing and playful. “See you in four days, Miss Half a Witch.”

Ellie quickly exits the office door, pulling her skirt down as she walks, and makes her way out of the shop with her heart thumping hard and fast in her chest. She brings up the phone back to her ear and immediately pulls it away when she hears Ingrid’s loud voice.

“—can’t be serious! Was that Colt’s voice?!” Ingrid gushes, her voice shrill and high. “Ellie Wheeler you did not just sleep with a Primordial vampire!”

“I didn’t sleep with him!” Ellie defends as she hurriedly makes it to her car, buckles in her seatbelt and starts the engine before she drops her head on the steering wheel. “Just…tell me what you found Ingrid.”

“Nuh-uh you’re not getting away that easily. I expect all the dirty projections later!” Ingrid cackles as Ellie groans in exasperation before Ingrid’s voice drops to something serious. “Anyway, we finally got the approval to conduct an autopsy on the Kilat bodies and guess what we found?”

“Ingrid I literally wouldn’t be able to even if I tried, that’s your job.”

“What? Are you always this cranky after sex or is it just reserved for hot but rude vampires?” Ingrid laughs and Ellie glares at nothing. “Fine, anyway. So we found a huge cut to their femoral artery, that’s the vein behind your thigh. If a creature gets injured there—mortal or otherwise—you best expect to die of blood loss if left untreated. Not even a vampire’s saliva can stop blood loss that bad.”

“But wait,” Ellie scrunches her eyebrows and lifts her head off of the steering wheel. “You said there was no injury on the bodies.”

“Yeah, that’s the strange thing. The way the femoral artery was cut up should indicate a visible and pretty nasty injury—but we found nothing. I’ve asked around and no one has seen anything like this. It’s really weird.”

Ellie sighs as she kneads away the oncoming headache. “Thanks Ingrid, I’ll look into it more.”

“Yeah no problem,” Ingrid confirms before her voice lifts into something teasing and playful. “Now back to Colt. Was he like, you know? Hu—”

“Goodbye Ingrid,” Ellie cuts her off and tosses the phone on the passenger seat. She lets out a big sigh as she leans her head back on the seat. The possibilities swim in her head at the new information Ingrid has just presented her.

If the Kilat’s blood was drained by the femoral artery, what was with the vampire bite? And what would a creature do with close to ten liters of albularyo blood? Or did they just dump it out after the murders had been committed? If the end goal truly was just the murder, why go through all the trouble?

Ellie frowns. The possibility of the blood being dumped is there which means she’ll need a werewolf to help sniff out where the blood could’ve gone to. She could always ask Logan but she knows how iffy he is with blood and she certainly doesn’t want to push him to do things he doesn’t want to do. Logan’s already done enough for her for this case since he practically got her access to the Vault he’s supposed to be guarding.

Ellie sighs and starts her drive back to her apartment. For now, she’ll just follow the two leads she has. Maybe after a bottle of wine and a nice bubble bath, she’ll have a clearer head in four days when she’ll meet the next vampire on her list.

Jason Shaw.

A terrifying Primordial vampire with the power to see the memories of the creatures he feeds on.

#rodaw #choices rod #colt x ellie #colt kaneko #vampire au #detective au #witch au #murder mystery #cw: magic-drug #cw: blood #cw: police #my writing

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

Text

Breaking the Timeloop, chapter 1: Henry, this is Henry

Thanks for showing support for this, guys. I hope you like it. The first chapter mostly outlines the “laws” of this fic’s universe, which are based on popular Reddit theories of the time. They’re outdated now, but made for a nice story.

---

Henry Stein stepped into Joey Drew Studios, apprehensive as to what he might find. Returning to the studio had seemed like such a small favor to make his ex-business partner and old friend happy. Joey Drew had seemed so remorseful, and so much calmer and kinder than he had been back then. Still, as soon as Henry was staring down the studio's halls, lifeless and decaying but otherwise unchanged, he was reminded of the time he'd spent working in them. In those years, Joey Drew had shown an ugly, selfish, twisted side of himself to Henry. One that Henry had all but forgotten about. Who knew what he'd wanted from having Henry return?

With a start, Henry realized that he was holding two objects in his hand, neither of which he recalled bringing in: a strange, hand-mirror shaped instrument, and a book with the words, READ IMMEDIATELY written large in ink over the entire expanse of the cover. Henry obeyed the text.

Henry? This is Henry. This'll come as a surprise, but you're stuck in a time loop, buddy. You seem to lose your memory every few loops. After a few hundred loops, though, I figured that out and started this journal. This way, you can learn from my mistakes and hopefully have a better chance of getting out of here.

I don't know why I'm here. That makes it pretty difficult to guess what needs to be done to get out. My best guess is that Joey Drew put me in this time loop so that I could fix his mess. Keep your eyes out for any indication that this is not the case, but for now, focus on trying to save as many people as possible.

Follow these rules:

1. Write down anything significant you learn. If you end up in Joey Drew's apartment, write everything you need to down, because it'll be your last chance to do so before a new loop begins.

2. Don't be afraid to die. This time loop effectively makes you immortal. Take risks to experiment.

3. Protect this book at all costs. When Joey Drew sends you back into the studio at the end of a loop, transfer it and the seeing tool to your right hand to ensure it will be preserved.

The next page contains a table of contents. This page contains a list of the creatures you'll encounter. Please read it.

Ink creatures in general

Each ink creature was either made with a soul, or took on an imprint. The ones with souls hold the memories of the people they once were. I'll start with the ones with souls.

Sammy Lawrence

Yeah, that Sammy Lawrence. Sorry, bud, but you had to learn sometime that Joey created a real tragedy. Sammy isn't your chipper, if easily annoyed old friend anymore. He's an ink-covered loon who worships Bendy (who I'll get to later) to the point where he's willing to use you as a human sacrifice. He mostly lurks in the first basement floor and second to lowest floor of the studio. However, since he worships the ink demon, he can be anywhere instead of hiding away from him as most ink creatures do. Bendy is still malicious to him occasionally, however. He's almost invariably malicious at first, but there are ways of saving him. See pages 34, 52, and 57 for how to befriend him. He's a powerful ally as he runs a cult of lost ones and searchers. Times befriended: 63/584 (since I started counting) Times killed: 311/584

Susie Campbell/Alice Angel (scarred)

Susie Campbell's soul was transferred into an Alice Angel clone. Be extremely careful around her, as she is capricious and has no qualms with murder. She is mostly found on the ninth floor, where she has a fairly significant portion of the studio sealed up to protect herself from the ink demon. She has access to a lot of machinery in there, and can control the elevator to some extent. Don't fall into her web-she has arguably adapted to surviving and protecting herself here better than anyone. She can also be found on level S. Do not use the elevator unless she either hasn't met you, or is dead. Be especially wary of her if you're traveling with a Boris. She kills them to use their organs. For how to befriend her, go to page 78. For ways to kill her, go to pages 7, 12, and 21.

Times befriended: 3/584

Times killed: 105/584

The Projectionist

A mechanical creature containing the soul of Norman Polk. He shows no signs of sapience. I never liked the guy, but he didn't deserve this. He likes dark areas, but he can be found anywhere because he doesn't have the sense to beware the ink demon. You'll know him when you see him, and when you do, run. There are ways to kill him, though: see page 54.

Times befriended: /584

Times killed: 9/584

Bertrum Piedmont

Apparently, after I left the company, Joey tried to make a Bendy-themed amusement park which never got off the ground, and enlisted in this guy's help. They were always at each other's throats, and after they were done doing business together, Joey put his soul in an amusement park ride resting in a storage room for all the other unused Bendyland equipment. You'll know it when you see it. Unfortunately, he always mistakes me for Joey Drew, and that makes him almost impossible to befriend: he thinks it's just Joey being a manipulative liar. You must debilitate him before even attempting to befriend him-there is one very specific way to do so. For how to kill him, see page 4. For how to debilitate and befriend, see page 49.

Times befriended: 69/584

Times killed: 415/584

Lacie Benton and Grant Cohen

By using the seeing tool, I have detected their names on coffins. These same coffins hold the corpses of the others that were killed. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots. At least one of them is a Lost One, it would seem, as at least one Lost One can talk and remembers its name. Lacie worked for Bertrum. She was probably killed because she was suspicious of Bertrum's whereabouts, but that's speculation. Grant Cohen was likely killed so that Joey could keep the company's financial matters secret.

Alright, now onto the soulless creatures. You probably can't save these, but they can still seriously help or hinder your quest.

Butcher Gang Members

Kill on sight. They have no signs of sapience and are invariably malicious. There are many copies of them.

Boris (perfect)

Almost invariably benevolent. The time spent with him (generally in his safehouse on the second basement floor) is like time spent with family. Down here, that kind of moral support is scarce and invaluable. However, he can be a serious liability if you run into the scarred Alice Angel. If that happens, keep him away from her at all costs. If she does get him, well, try to remember that he doesn't really have a soul. Just an imprint, seemingly of Wally Franks (laid-back, goofy, friendly, weak-willed, etc.) Though, that doesn't seem to keep him from feeling a fondness for me, or from feeling pain. I'm sorry Henry, but you're often gonna have to kill your dog. Alice hulks him up and turns him against you. For how to kill, see page 4.

Times befriended: 437/584

Times killed: 239/584

Alice Angel (unscarred)

She lives on the second-to-lowest level of the studio with a Boris clone she calls "Tom." She's generally benevolent. I suggest you recruit her early, as her combat skills can really come in handy, and, as I've mentioned, good company is scarce. When you meet her, show her your seeing tool. She has a tendency of thinking of you as some sort of savior, but she sees the seeing tool as some kind of proof of that. Her imprint could honestly be of anyone, but she's calmer than I ever knew Susie to be and has a rather feminine personality, so I'm going to guess it's Allison Pendle, who was hired to replace Susie as Alice's voice actress. For how to kill her, go to page 63.

Times befriended: 289/584

Times killed: 38/584

"Tom" Boris

Tom is a very distrustful, hardened Boris clone. He is often the main obstacle to befriending Alice. Sometimes, he can even convince her to imprison you. He is very useful in combat and situations involving strength, however. Don't try to befriend him: befriend Alice, and she'll convince him. And whatever you do, don't harm her, or look like you might harm her, in front of him. By his personality, he seems to have the imprint of Thomas Connor.

Times befriended: 260/584

Times killed: 38/584

Lost Ones and Searchers

Can't lie, don't know what these are. Some are malicious, some aren't. At least one can speak, most can't. By the same token, only a couple seem to have their own personality. I don't know if they have souls or not. I just know that when I am engulfed in the ink, I can hear their thoughts. It's like they're simultaneously one voice, and many. Their methods of combat often make them seem like a hive mind.

Bendy

Almost everyone in the studio fears Bendy. He's very powerful: he can teleport using posters, can only be killed or hurt by seeing the end tape of his cartoon (you read that right. See page 3.), and can send any creature back into the inky abyss with a single touch.

Because almost every interaction I have with him includes running away, I have not been able to get a good sense of his personality. However, I've noticed a pattern: he ceases to attack anything after he has killed a creature with a soul. He doesn't go after others without a soul, though he doesn't mind coming close enough to them to melt them into the tendrils of ink that follow him everywhere. I think he wants a soul. Maybe that's why he's after me.

I have not yet made allies with the ink demon. He doesn't seem to take sacrifices of a souled creature- in fact, he reacts with disgust and outrage, injuring (often mortally injuring) the sacrificer before coming after the sacrifice. The only exception I've found is if the person was defending themselves.

This shows me that Bendy has standards for other people but not himself. He uses everyone he can use, and is willing to stomp on and destroy anyone he can't. There's no question in my mind who his imprint is: Joey Drew. Nonetheless, his demonic powers lead me to believe that he might know something about how to save these souls.

Henry stared at the page a long time after he'd finished reading, as though that would change its words. Deep down, though, he knew that three pages of his own handwriting hadn't spontaneously appeared, and he definitely didn't remember writing them. He flipped through it to find that there indeed were over seventy pages to it, all in his own writing. His stomach sank as he realized that this was entirely real. "Oh, Joey, what have you been doing?" he whispered to himself.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #Henry Stein #Ink bendy #ink creatures #joey drew #breaking the time loop

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hegglespeggles · 4 years

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How to write an essay you could not care less about in 10 steps

Hello. I have an essay to write.

I am also, (unfortunately) the kind of lazy, apathetic burnout who will only do my FUCKING work if I get really worked up. Usually that ends up meaning all of my papers are spite-fuelled tirades but my profs seem to like them so fine. I hope you find this particular raging tirade useful.

Today, I would like to educate the 4 of you that will actually see this on a fine art I have perfected over the years. Writing a paper, about which, you do not give a single, solitary, crumb of a fuck about. This is (you may have guessed) and excellent way for me to procrastinate doing a paper that *I* do not give a single solitary crumb of a fuck about. For best results, I recommend doing this NIGHT-BEFORE-PANIC like, a week in advance so you can fix all the NONSENSE that your more reasonable brain will undoubtedly find. But if it’s the night before and you are shit outta luck, this will get ‘er done. And with practice, you can even pull good grades outta these bitches.

Dissociating? I gotchu. Woke up the day of the deadline to feel like absolute utter garbage? Search no more friends.

FAILING GRADES ARE BETTER THAN ZEROS JUST FUCKIN DOOOOOO ITTTT

1. Go get the prompt.

I fucking mean it. Even if you are like 1000% sure you know what the prompt is asking, go to the FUCKING assignment, and copy that shit into your word document. Got the assignment on paper? TYPE THAT SHIT UP MOTHERFUCKER.

(Do you see what I fucking have to deal with)

Boom?

BOOM.

Congratulations, you now have a document, and whats more, there are WORDS in it!! You aren’t starting from scratch anymore kiddo. Fringe benefit, you always know EXACTLY what the assignment wants because its fucking Staring You Down. Not saying you have to do exactly as it says, mama didn’t raise no BITCH and I aint scared of fuckin CALLING PROFS OUT but if you wanna break the rules you gotta know what they are first

(Disclaimer: I have also been kicked out of class on numerous occasions for fighting with the prof and had full classes where the lecture WAS me arguing so maybe take my opinions of conformity with a grain of salt.)

2. Math THE FIRST

I know, this is an essay and not a fucking calculus test. But some of this shit is USEFUL OKAY

Take the paper in question. How long does it have to be? Mine is 5 pages. A page is generally accepted to be 250 words (double spaced because we FUCKING LOVE OURSELVES) so 5 x 250 = 1250 wds. That’s the goal. That’s the pinnacle. That’s your new holy grail.

Time to split this bitch up

3. Yarrrrrr, CONTENT

And finally, we get to the part that is the reason why you are being an absolute bitch baby about this essay (maybe. I might be projecting. Your life is your life and im sure youre doing your best.) I Hate this part, but now with our magic number we don’t need to pull 5 pages out of the ether.

This part really requires you to know your vibe. Is this something that you have a lot of little opinions (read: evidence) about or like, only 2 or 3 big bois? Look deep into your soul and figure out which is the easiest for you to shit out, a rant or a list. a great way to do this is to WRITE ANYTHING YOU GOT OUT

Here you can see I’ve put all of the thoughts I have about the question into a list, slapped some standard “opening” and “closing” shit around it so I can FUCKING FIND IT AGAIN and given it a good hard look. Whats the common thread in all of my opinions? That the prompt is fucking stupid and makes no sense is asking 2 different questions. Congratulations: you found your thesis. This essay, like many of my essays, bears the thesis “this is a weird question to be asking” (which falls under my broader category of “bitches aint shit” essays.)

Congratulations you have the bare bones of your skeleton.

4. MATH THE SECOND

The magic number returns. All hail our glorious leader. 1250 right?

So heres how I break this down. Break off a small chunk at the beginning. For this essay im gonna split off the 250. Split that baby in half. Congratulations, now you have a word count on your opening and closing. Personally, I know I like a lil extra space at the end to get all ranty, so Imma split this puppy up 100 for my opening and 150 for the closing. WARNING: You will think that you will be able to write enough in your opening and closing to take up lots of space. You will feel the urge to give them both the same amount of words that you give your points. This is misguided and foolish. Not only will you 1) not be able to do it but 2) even if you did, that’s like getting a sandwich which is all bread. No one wants that. Don’t be that dude. Fight the urge.

RIGHT SO. We’re still left on the other 1000 words.

If you have an idea that like, is bigger than the others, go ahead and give that puppy more of the word count than the others, fractions are your friend here and you wanna think about how much of your final product each of these babies will be. If you, like me, are an utter buffoon with no clue what youre doing, open your calculator up. Divide the remaining word count by the number of points you have. Congratulations. Youre doing the essaying.

If this is enough to get you started, GREAT! See you at step seven. BEFORE YOU GO I would like to give you this tip

5. CITE YOUR INFORMATION AS YOU ADD IT IN.

It doesn’t need to be a full citation, just literally a footnote with something that will help you remember where its from and for the love of god WHAT PAGE IT IS ON. The you of 3 hours from now will thank you.

6. Filling in the skeleton

I don’t know about you, but I cant exactly riff off of a single sentence. Like, I know what the VIBE of my point is, but like, I cant pull it out of a hat. The name of the game here is whittling down your arguments into thinner and thinner chunks that are easier and easier to bullshit. This is how you avoid that “burning building found in flames during Brooklyn fire” bullshit that memes. You don’t wanna meme. You wanna pass. So, figure out what the things you are gonna say and in each bit, keep track of how many words you are gonna write. EITHER

a) You put how many words you think you can write on any point beside the point as you go and just keep developing points and shuffling word counts around until it matches the total for that section

b) You evenly breakup the word count between all the points and keep breaking them down until you look at a subject and a word count and go “yeah that’s doable. I can do that.”

I prefer the second so LEGGO.

Ta-Da!

7. Write ‘er up

Ahhh glad to see we’re all back together again. Try-hards who can ACTUALLY bullshit papers, glad to see you’ve rejoined us! This is the part where you take all that shit you’ve broken up into nice little chunks and you turn it into something worth reading. You can do it. I believe in you. Try and keep your citations in place.

I like to do this as a question answer thingy, like an exam, so halfway through writing mine is gonna look like this

The handy part about the numbers is that it gives you a frame of reference for how your bullshit is going. Realized you had a lot more to say here than you thought? Dope! Less bullshit somewhere else, take it out of a weaker point. This point didn’t give as much as you thought it would? Split the difference elsewhere! This way you have checkpoints and you can see how your essay is going

And then you can go ahead and delete your skeleton work. Its time. Its served you well. For extra drama, whisper menacing nothings to it as you send it into the darkness. Personal favourites include “no one will mourn you,” “your fate belongs to me,” and “so this is what you have come to”

8. Citations

Theres like a million ways out there to find out how to do your citations and its gonna depend on what kind of a paper you are writing. I use Chicago most of the time, including here. My advice? Use a site like, bib.me or something to do your bibliography, and then plaster that in the bottom of your document. Use that as the building blocks to do your footnotes. Let Purdue Owl be your guide. Purdue Owl Style Guide Is A Mighty Friend Indeed.

Also your welcome for that, “putting the page numbers in as you put the info in” shit. That took me alarmingly long to figure out. It’s a wonder theyre giving me a degree.

9. Proofread that shit, ya bougie bitch.

If you wanna be time effective, getting a friend to proofread while you do your citations is a great way to go. If you have a few days, put your paper away and come back to it. If you are out of friends and time then https://www.paperrater.com/ is your last hope.

10. Slap a title page on that shit and GET IT SUBMITTED

No joke, I have been using the same template for a coverpage all through highschool and my undergrad. There is only one title page and every time I write an essay I take the title page from the last paper I wrote. There is no beginning. Only title page. Title? Topic of paper: point of paper. For example, If I had to title this screed I’d call it Essay Writing: An exploration of mediocrity. slap the date and your name and the course and instructor on there and BAM. YA DONE.

Anyway submit that shit an go to bed youre done goodnight

EPILOGUE

I’ve gotten this essay back, and when I wrote it, I was barely a human being. Barely capable of human speech let alone a coherent argument. I would forget the end of the sentence by the time I typed out the beginning. But I still for a 70%! is it the best mark I’ve ever gotten? no! but it is a hell of a lot better than the 0% I would have gotten if i hadnt done this. I get it. And i hope this helps.

#mine #my stuff #studyblr #essaywriting #musicblr #game of thrones #study motivation #study #academic

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fallintosanity · 5 years

Text

the common fandom interpretation of mts is that they’re half-daemonified people inside suits of armor, which isn’t true according to either the main game or episode: prompto

but what the actual fuck besithia was doing with the clones is really hard to work out.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15

“C’mon,” Future Prompto said over his shoulder as he sauntered toward the ramp down the side of the haven. “It’s a twenty-minute walk out to the water tower and if we take too long we’re gonna get sunburned.”

“Right,” Prompto said, and scrambled after him.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, following a faint track along the sun-hardened ground. In the distance, Prompto could see a short, squat water tower, probably their destination. His future self, despite what he’d said about sunburn, was walking at a lazy pace, his face tilted up to the sun again. Prompto trailed behind him, feeling awkward and unsure. How did you start a conversation with your future self, anyway?

He picked at the gauze that wrapped his right wrist in place of the familiar wristband Ardyn Izunia had sliced off. He couldn’t see his future self’s wrist; the crisp sleeves of his Kingsglaive uniform jacket covered it. The uniform looked surprisingly good on him. Prompto had never thought about joining the Kingsglaive, or even the Crownsguard, not seriously at least. The Crownsguard was for people like Gladio and Ignis, who’d trained since birth in all kinds of crazy fighting arts, who were muscular and powerful and brave. Prompto figured the former out-of-shape, shy kid who’d been too chicken to even talk to the other kids at school wouldn’t stand a chance.

No, Prompto had just planned to get through high school and find a job taking photos for magazines or something. Maybe see if Noctis wanted a royal photographer, though he’d known that was unlikely. Not that the Lucis Caelums didn’t have royal photographers, but like the Crownsguard, that was a prestigious role reserved for the country’s best. Not some nobody orphan with a barcode on his wrist.

But apparently his future self had ended up a Kingsglaive. He looked good, too - other than the unhealthy sunless pallor of his skin, which all four of the future adults had because apparently the sun went away in the future too, what the hell. But he was a couple of inches taller than Prompto, and while he was no Gladio, he’d filled out with muscle. Prompto’s own arms and legs were basically twigs, all skin and bone after a growth spurt he hadn’t planned for in his diet, and he felt constantly awkward and clumsy. His future self moved with easy confidence, the way Gladio did, the way the guards who followed Noctis everywhere did.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Future Prompto met his gaze. His mouth quirked, a small expression that wasn’t quite a smile. “Go ahead,” he said. “Ask.”

“Ask what?” Prompto said, nerves making his voioce less steady than he would have liked.

His future self waved a hand vaguely. “You have questions, right? Ask ‘em. It’ll be easier like that than if I just start babbling, you know?”

“Uh, right,” Prompto said. He rubbed at the gauze over his tattoo, took a deep breath, and blurted, “Your Noctis knows, doesn’t he? About… about the…” He waved his wrist. “Does that… does that mean you know, too?”

Future Prompto nodded. “Yeah.”

“So…” He almost couldn’t get the question out. He hadn’t thought he’d ever know the truth, and definitely hadn’t thought he’d learn it like this. “What is it? What does it mean?” He didn’t have to say what am I? If anyone would understand, it was his future self.

For a long moment Future Prompto said nothing, his gaze turned up toward the sky. Then he sighed and stopped walking, turning to meet Prompto’s eyes again. “You sure you want to know?”

Prompto opened his mouth to say Of course I’m sure, but the words didn’t come. Future Prompto wouldn’t be asking that if he didn’t think Prompto had a very good reason not to want to know. Instead he asked, very quietly, “It’s… it’s bad, isn’t it.”

His future self didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Prompto swallowed hard, looking away, eyes skating over the bright yellow desert landscape without really seeing it. But there really was only one option he could take. The barcode had haunted him his whole life; he couldn’t let it keep being a phantom holding him back. He said, “I’m sure. I want to know, even if it’s bad. Especially if it’s bad.”

Future Prompto started walking again. “Have you had that world history class yet, the one with, what’s his face, that one teacher who hated Noct?”

Prompto frowned at the non-sequiter, hurrying to catch up. “Mr. Malazan? Yeah, we have him this year, why?”

“Have you done the Niflheim module yet?”

“Yeah, last semester.”

“So you know about the origin of MTs.”

“Uh. I guess?” Prompto tried to remember what they’d covered. He hadn’t paid much attention to the lessons; he hadn’t thought he would ever need it, for one, and for two the whole idea of robot soldiers wigged him out. It wasn’t fair, Niflheim fighting with robots they could build and replace, while Lucis had to send humans to fight and die. “They were first created like thirty years ago by some Niff scientist, but didn’t start showing up in combat for another ten years or so.”

His future self nodded. “Thirty-two years ago from now. Forty-four from my time. The name of the scientist was Verstael Besithia. They didn’t show you a picture of him in class, did they?”

“They did, but it was some old grainy thing,” Prompto said. “All I remember was he was bald on top and kinda spotty. Why are you asking about this?” He wanted his future self to get to the point.

Future Prompto snorted. “Spotty,” he muttered, and shook his head. He held out a hand; blue magic shimmered between his fingers and suddenly he held a small, battered notebook. Prompto watched in amazement - even Noct didn’t use the magic of the royal Lucis armory that freely, and it was strange to see his future self treat it with the casualness of reaching into a pocket. Future Prompto handed him the notebook. “Take a look.”

Prompto frowned at him, but flipped through the book. The pages were covered with his own neat handwriting, and various newspaper clippings and photos had been wedged in between. Most of the handwritten blurbs were marked with the words “Transcript”, dates - all between ME 757 and 763 - and strings of letters that might have been abbreviated place names. The newspaper clippings were much older, dating back to 721, mostly from Niflheim and talking about Besithia and the production of magitek troopers.

Then he flipped a page and found a photo of himself staring back.

Except it wasn’t him. For a second he thought it was his older self instead, but that wasn’t right, either. The man in the photo was probably in his mid- to late forties, his blond hair fading to grey around the edges, his freckles turning into age spots above his beard. His outfit was ostentatious, brightly colored with a tall collar and broad shoulder pads, and matched the arrogance in his expression.

Prompto looked up at his older self in horror. “Who…?”

“Verstael Besithia,” Future Prompto answered shortly. His eyes had gone dark and shuttered, the way Noct’s did the rare few times someone mentioned the daemon attack he’d suffered as a child.

“But…” Prompto looked at the picture again, then up at his future self. They were damn near identical save for age. Even Gladio didn’t look that much like his dad. “He’s - he looks like—”

“Yeah,” Future Prompto said. “Noct mentioned where daemons come from, right? Last night?” Prompto nodded, not trusting his voice. Future Prompto continued, his voice flat, “Besithia needed daemon miasma to power his MTs. But using regular daemons didn’t work well, and when he tried using people who were in the process of turning, that didn’t work either because of something he called ‘ego death’. So he figured, why not use babies? They don’t have egos.”

His voice was bitter and sharp enough to cut, and Prompto flinched. His future self noticed and took a deep breath, visibly reining himself in, before continuing. “He cloned himself. He eventually figured out a way to speed up the babies’ aging without actually letting them develop as people enough to have egos. But before he did… some Lucian spy stole one of those cloned babies.”

Prompto stared at his future self, horror curdling his stomach; he was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday. “That was—You mean—we were—”

Future Prompto nodded. “We were just one of thousands of clones meant to be infected with Starscourge and harvested for daemon miasma to power MTs.” He reached out and flipped the pages in the notebook Prompto’d forgotten he held, stopping on a page that had nothing but a photo taped to it.

A photo of tall narrow glass tubes, each one holding Prompto. A Prompto, a clone, one of many in a row, each with Prompto’s face and a barcode stamped on its right wrist.

“I was taking photos of every room I went into,” Future Prompto said tonelessly. “I figured the intel might be useful. I didn’t realize what I was looking at until after I took the shot.”

The world swayed and for a second Prompto had to focus on staying upright, on not collapsing to the hard desert rock and throwing up or passing out or screaming. The notebook fell from his fingers, shattering into blue crystal light before it could hit the ground. “But… but…”

Future Prompto said nothing. When Prompto looked up, his future self was staring at him, his expression grim. Prompto managed, “Noctis - your Noctis - knows? He knows?! And Gladio and Ignis?”

Last night, in the van, Future Noctis had said, It’s nothing to worry about. You’re fine.

Except Future Noctis had been wrong. How could Prompto be fine, how could he ever be fine again when he was—was that?!

His future self just nodded, and said softly, “They don’t care. They’re—It’s rare, people that good.”

“Does anyone else know? In the future?”

Future Prompto’s expression darkened and he gripped his own right wrist. “Everyone.” At Prompto’s horrified look, he added grimly, “Ardyn thought it would be fun to spread the news.” He met Prompto’s gaze, eyes cold and sharp and deadly. “He’s probably gonna do it again. He hates Besithia damn near as much as he hates Noctis, and Besithia’s dead in my time, so guess who he’s taking it out on. The guys are okay—” with a tilt of his head back toward the haven to indicate Noct and Gladio and Ignis— “but from now on, you don’t turn your back on anyone. Not strangers. Not people you think are friends.” His eyes closed for a moment, his fingers tightening around his wrist so hard the leather of his glove creaked. “Especially not people you think are friends.”

Prompto shivered. Despite the desert heat, a chill had seeped down into his bones, one he doubted any amount of sun or warmth could dispel. It was too much to take in all at once, too much to process, to understand. He couldn’t think, the photos of Verstael Besithia, of the clones in their tubes - him in a tube, hairless and placid and stamped with a barcode like the property he’d been created as - spinning through his brain. He doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing hard like he’d just finished a run, like he’d pushed himself past his physical limits only this time it was his mental limits, his ability to comprehend his own freaking existence, not who he was but what he was—

His future self hooked an arm around his shoulders, jolting him back to awareness. “Sorry,” Future Prompto said ruefully. “I didn’t…” He sighed. “I fucked this up. You need to know, but… it’s a lot to take in at once.”

That startled a laugh out of Prompto, watery and maybe a little more hysterical than he’d have liked. “A lot. Yeah.”

“C’mon,” his future self said, and ruffled his hair. “Let’s get to that water shed before we both get burned crispier than the steak when Noct’s cooking.”

Prompto snorted another almost-laugh, nearly choking on the hysteria before he wrangled himself under control. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Okay.”

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #chocobros #sanity's time travel fic #time travel #fanfiction #prompto argentum

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mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years

Text

2019 Louden Swain FanFic/FanArt Project (feat. The Station Breaks)

This project is finished!!!

See the completed book online HERE.

Rob was sweet, as always, and very sad to hear we won’t be doing any more of these. He said he’s enjoyed reading them, but he understands not being able to keep churning them out. Even though we can’t do more, I’m proud of us!!

Rules for the project, as well as links to the original posts for all of the stories and art, are under the cut!

If you’re new to this project, check out previous projects:

2016 - Masterpost - Finished book

2017 - Masterpost - Finished book

2018 - Masterpost - Finished book

Let’s show Rob and the band some love by letting their songs inspire us!

I’m looking for BOTH writers and artists for this! Every project so far, we’ve had art/aesthetics/edits for every story and I’d love to do the same this year. Whether you’re drawing or making aesthetics or doing something else, WE WANT YOU. All art and stories will be put together, printed, put in a snazzy binder, and presented to the band at #SPNDC in November! (Anything related to The Station Breaks will also be included in the project given to Jason Manns.)

Here’s the schedule:

6/22/19 5:00PM EDT - I will post the rules and regs and open the projects up so you guys can start claiming songs. Only one song request at a time (though you can list a backup song or two if your first request is already taken). Once you have finished and posted your first request, then you may make a second request. (Note: Due to a mistake on my part last year, the fic for She Waits has already been written, so this song is not available this year.)

9/2/19 Midnight EDT - Deadline for writers. This gives writers 10 weeks, plus the US Labor Day holiday.

9/29/19 Midnight EDT - Deadline for artists. This give artists 4 extra weeks after the writing is done.

This schedule then gives me about three weeks to put everything together and prep for the con.

Here are the rules (below the cut):

Deadlines are final. NO LATE ENTRIES! If you find you need more time, let me know and we can try to work something out. I’m not going to make a deadline to sign up, but if you sign up the week before the end, you will only have a week to complete your part. If you want to do two, you must finish your first before you will be allowed to reserve a second song.

Artists: - You will be expected to work with writers so the art reflects the story. Whether you pick a song you like and get together with the writer, or pick a writer you like and get together on a song, it doesn’t matter to me. - If you’d like me to pair you with a writer, let me know, and I will match you up with someone. Most times, I have more writers than artists. If you are willing to work for multiple writers, I would be most grateful!!! In the past, I’ve had a pool of artists, and I tried to divvy up assignments as fairly as possible so no one artist gets all the work. - SEND ME AN ASK or an IM or whatever and let me know what you want to do. Whether you’re working with a writer on one, or willing to be part of a pool that works on multiple, just let me know! - When you’re making your art, keep in mind that it will be pasted into a Word document, printed on letter-sized paper, and put into a sheet protector in a binder. You might want to print out what you make to see how it looks on the page. - You can post your art in your own post and tag me and #2019 Louden Swain FanFic FanArt Project or submit it to me through my blog or send it to me via carrier pigeon (please don’t send it via carrier pigeon, I have cats) or drop me a line and I’ll give you an email address to send it to. - I would love some original cover art! If you have an idea for cover art, let me know, and we can talk!

Writers: - Can be any pairing or ship, reader-insert or OC, or even no pairing, whatever floats your boat. Please no RPF. - Please no smut. Anything else is up for grabs. Or maybe just a headcanon kind of thing. - Pick a song and SEND ME AN ASK with the song you have picked to sign up. I will update this post with the songs taken. Songs will be assigned on a first come, first serve basis. - You can’t write for the same song you wrote about last year. This is to ensure variety in the stories from year to year. In honor of their album, Splitting the Seams, if you would like to rework an old story, or write a new story based on a song you have previously written for, go for it! These stories will be in a separate section of the book, and the introduction to each one will reference your previous story. - Tag me in your fic, plus use the tag #2019 Louden Swain FanFic FanArt Project. You can also submit your fic to me through my blog, or send me a message and we can discuss the pigeon and email options. (Really prefer no pigeons.) - You must use a Keep Reading feature if your fic is posted to Tumblr and over 500 words. - Your fic can either be a story based on the song or just have it somehow highlight the song. Since Rob will get to read these, I’d rather the fics be more relevant than just a song playing on the radio in the background, but do what you can. - Your fic can also be a part of another challenge, BUT make your fic relevant to the song you choose, please! (Basically, please do more for this challenge than having a Louden Swain song playing in the background.) - If I haven’t liked or reblogged your post within a couple days, let me know I missed it! - I will give your work a basic grammar/spelling proofreading before adding it to the project. If you would like, I can beta read your story for you before you post it, too. Just let me know!

Everyone: - If you would like to include a short summary of why you like the song you picked, especially if the song has some special meaning to you, I will add that to your submission in the final project. If you look at the last three (links are at the top of this post), you can see the kind of thing I’m talking about at the top of some of the stories. Please keep these brief, though.

And now, for something completely different: If you are interested in doing something completely different than a Supernatural-related story or art/edit, talk to me about it, and I’ll figure out a way to include it. Letters to the band or stories that are not SPN-related can be printed out and presented separately, and a list of links to posted audio or video submissions can be added.

As songs are claimed, this list will be updated!

Able-Legged Heroes

Make Believe Starin’ at the Middle Paper, Plastic Head Check Grandma’s Song Yeah, Well St. Louis When I’m Gone - @winchestergirl-13 (fic) (art) Three Car Garage In Like Finn Undergrad Prom

Overachiever

Cast Off Neurosis Codependent Only Lyin’ Overachiever Uncle Bob Blank Card No Hero Boy In Need

Suit And Tie

Suit And Tie Operator Gina Knows Blind A Lot To Learn Rock Song - @waywardnerd67 (fic and art) Rockit Real Life Long Way St. Louis Walk It Off Homesick

A Brand New Hurt

Better All I Need Pop Tart Heart Kind Of Guy Downtown Letdown Mrs. Vance Election Day Silverspoon Holiday Ready Steady Alright Medicated Something To Say - @winchestergirl-13 (fic) (art) Wasted Afternoon

Help You (single)

Help You

Eskimo

Like the Heart Goes Eskimo Carpool Lane CA Nation Cigarette Mamma’s Jam Worlds Collide - @writingfromkitchenator (fic and art) She Waits - @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid (fic) @alaskanartist (art) January Gamma Ray Be Me Wave Past Perfect

Sky Alive

Reunion - @impala-dreamer (fic and art) Lucky Cool if I Come Over Hot Times Big One Fifteen Hey Darlin Bandaged Hand Crooked Wheel Trigger Finger Honey Bee - @atc74 (fic and art) Angela -

No Time Like The Present

Present Time Change The Locks Amazing Taxi Driver Over Before It Began Leg Up Roll Me Over Fair This Is How - @mrswhozeewhatsis (fic) @impala-dreamer (art) Night Light Juliet Numb

Splitting The Seams

Another Fool - @impala-dreamer (fic and art) Too Far Away

The Station Breaks

Slightest Thing Gone The Rest Free - @andromytta (fic) @winchestergirl-13 (art) They Ain’t You Just Walk Away Stowaway Not Giving My Heart Away - @mandilion76 (fic and art) Old Neighborhood Autumn Back

Cover art by @alaskanartist

Tagging past participants and possibly interesting people: @a-winchester-fairtytale @adriellej @alangel1895 @andromytta @anotherwinchesterfangirl @archangel-with-a-shotgun @archangelsanonymous @atc74 @brothersinsync @castiels-forbidden-angel @crashdevlin @curliesallovertheplace @deansleather @dont-hate-relate-pls @ellen-reincarnated1967 @enchantedstarfleet @take-my-crookedwheel @growningupgeek @hideyourdemoneyes @i-cant-believe-its-not-satan @i-dont-understand-that-url @icecream-and-gadreel @iwantthedean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @jpadjackles-mishamark @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @lifeonsarz @littlegreenplasticsoldier @loudenswainfangirl @manawhaat @mandilion76 @multi-fan-dom-madness @mysupernaturalfics @narrettwist @notnaturalanahi @oriona75 @padamooseandgrasshopper @pastelspn @personal-boogeyman @purgatoan @robbenedictandco @roxy-davenport @samanddeanwinchester67 @sams-little-toy @samsexualdeancurious @saritaa-chan @scorpiongirl1 @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @smmywinchester45 @stunt-idjit-number-two @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @toastiel @tricia-16 @trollhunter94 @waywardnerd67 @wideawakeandwriting @winchestergirl-13 @writingfromkitchenator @ilostmyshoe-79 @wingedcatninja @desiraelovesdestiel @impala-dreamer

#incoherent babbling by mrswhozeewhatsis #2019 louden swain fanfic fanart project #louden swain #rob benedict #stephen norton #mike borja #billy moran #Jason Manns

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