#i did some freelance a bit ago

[protagonistically]

I can't believe I didn't listen to the latest Front Bottoms album until like a month ago. It's so good???

I blame the pop-music propaganda (popaganda, if you will) has pushed on me via capitalistic algorithms.

Anyway, I ordered the neon coral variant and i'm very excited to spin it and fully diving back into my midwest emo / alt-punk bullshit.

[vanessagillings]

I’m posting the ever-so-rare photo of myself alongside one of my characters based on my childhood because today is World Autism Acceptance Day, and I wanted to show my little corner of the internet who this particular autistic person is:  

I was officially diagnosed in February, at age 38 (I’m now 39). A lot of people thought I couldn’t be autistic.  Some people who know me in real life still don’t.  And until around 10 years ago, I didn’t think I could be either, because I was nothing like the stereotype media portrays. I was told that autistics lacked empathy (untrue), and never played make-believe (also often untrue) and only enjoyed STEM.  I was — and am — an empathetic artist -- and make believe?  I can spend days sketching finely bedecked bears brewing tea or carefully choosing the right words to weave tapestries of fiction — though perhaps my hyper focus was a bit of a red flag.  Even so, how could autism describe me?  I was a good student.  I got straight A's. I didn’t act out in class.  I can make eye contact…if I must.  And lots of girls hate having their hair brushed with an unholy passion, right?  Clearly I swim in sarcasm like a fish, so autism couldn't be why I was so anxious all the time, could it?

If someone had told me when I was younger what autism ACTUALLY is — instead of the nonsense I’d seen on screens — I would have seen myself in it.  I didn’t hear that autistics have sensory issues until I was in my mid-twenties, which is when I first began to really research autism symptoms, and I had almost all of them:  sensitivity to light, smells, fabrics, temperatures, textures, and certain touches, all of which make me feel anxious, I fidget (stim), I never know what the hell to do with my hands or where to look, I talk too little or too much, I have special interests, I have entire animated movies memorized shot-by-shot and can remember the first time and place I saw every movie I've ever seen but I often forget what I'm trying to say mid-sentence, I echo movies and tv shows (my husband and I have a whole repertoire of shared echolalias, making up about 20% of our conversations), I was in speech therapy as a kid, I have issues with dysnomia and verbal fluency, I toe-walk, I can't multitask to save my life, I like things just-so, I’m deeply introverted but not shy, I need to recover from all social interaction — even social interaction I enjoy — and I find stupid, every day things like grocery shopping, driving and making appointments overwhelming and intensely stressful, sometimes to the point where I struggle to speak.  It turns out, I am definitely autistic. My results weren't borderline. Not even close. And while these aren’t all of my challenges, and not everyone with these symptoms is autistic, it’s definitely something to look into if you present with all of these things at once. 

So why did it take me so long to get diagnosed? The same bias that exists in media threads through the medical community as well, and because I'm a woman who can discuss the weather while smiling on cue, few people thought I was worth looking into. Even after I was fairly certain I was autistic, receiving an official diagnosis in the US is unnecessarily difficult and expensive, and in my case, completely uncovered by my insurance.  It cost me over $4000, and I could only afford it because my husband makes more money than I do as a freelance illustrator — a job I fell into largely because it didn’t require in-person work; like many autists, I have been chronically underemployed and underpaid, in part due to physical illness in my twenties, which is a topic for another day.  But it shouldn’t be like this.  It shouldn’t be so hard for adults to receive diagnoses and it shouldn’t be so hard for people to see themselves in this condition to begin with due to misinformation and stereotypes. Like many issues in America, these barriers are even higher for marginalized groups with multiple intersectionalities. 

It’s commonly said that if you’ve met one autistic person, you’ve met one autistic person.  This is why it’s called a spectrum, not because there’s a linear progression of severity (someone who appears to have low support needs like myself might need more than it seems, and vice versa), but because every autistic person has their own strengths and weaknesses, challenges and experiences, opinions and needs.  No two people on the spectrum present in the same way.  And that’s a good thing!  No way of being autistic is inherently any better than any other, and even if someone on the spectrum struggles with things I don’t — or can do things I can’t — doesn’t make them more or less deserving of respect and human dignity.

But speaking solely for myself, the more I learn about autism, the happier I am to be autistic.  I struggle to find words and exert fine motor control, but my deep passion and fixation has made me good at art and storytelling anyway.  I find more joy watching dogs and studying leaf shapes on my walks than most people do in an entire day.  More often than not, the barriers I’ve faced weren’t due to my autism directly, but due to society being overly rigid about what it considers a valid way of existing.  My hope in writing this today is that maybe one person will realize that autism isn’t what they thought — and that being different is not the same as being less than. My hope with my fiction is to give autistic children mirrors with which to see themselves, and everyone else windows through which to see us as we actually are.

If you’re interested in learning more about autism or think you might be autistic, too, I recommend the Autism Self Advocacy Network  autisticadvocacy.org and the following books:

What I Mean When I Say I’m Autistic by Annie Kotowicz

We're Not Broken by Eric Garcia

Knowing Why edited by Elizabeth Bartmess

Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD

Loud Hands edited by Julia Bascom

Neurotribes by Steve Silberman

(trigger warning: the last two contain quite a lot of upsetting material involving institutionalized child abuse, but I think it’s important for people to know how often autistic children were — and are — abused simply for being neurodivergent).

Thanks for reading 💛

[glass--beach]

hi !!!! :3 so, pd seems, in my reading like its a decent part about the kinda mass surveillance and commodification of personhood shit the world has got going on rn, in a kinda (yes, its cliche, but the radiohead influence makes it a bit more palatable) modern ok computer-esque way. anyways, i wanted to ask u, what motivated u to write about these subjects especially ??

i am transgender and so so scared

near every single person in the world carries a camera on them at all times with the capability of broadcasting its view to all of the internet. we have a culture of emotional armor and swords built to slip between its plates, to be angry or afraid or upset or even the wrong kind of happy is cringe. those who believe in some shadow government in some hidden room somewhere spying on us at all times are delusional - this is wrong - where labor can be outsourced for cheaper it will be. taxis are expensive to run, making people drive their own cars and find customers on an app for measly pay is much more cost effective. giving a music writer a salary is too pricey compared to hiring freelancers on a per article basis. and now surveillance has been, like so many other things, outsourced to civilians and their cameras and smartphone apps. a man sitting oddly on a couch is cheating on his girlfriend, a fold in a woman’s clothing is a hidden penis, we are the panopticon and the prisoner… this is the “society of control” - freedom as tyranny.

the nature of reality is at stake in our culture - “what is a woman?” “a woman” - those who refuse to understand transgender people are helplessly tied to some “deep reality” - “i know what you are!!” - which is ultimately an enforcement of the status quo socially constructed reality. transgender people recognize reality as something socially constructed and seek to bend it to their liking… pronouns and chosen names are after all meant for others to use rather than ourselves, they are third person terms, gender never worms its way into the terms “I” and “We”. our personhood is defined by other people, and can be invalidated or revoked by others… the insecurity created by this tension is ripe for advertising. take this boner pill, it will make you more of a man. take this injection, it will make you a woman. we are defined by our outside, our house, our car, our clothes, our skin, our bodies.

this is where the “family nexus” concept comes in - groups of people create their own pockets of reality. to christians, god is real and to deny this is insanity. to hardcore atheists, believing in god is insanity. to many psychiatrists years ago and some still today, to believe to be a different gender is insanity… and the insane deserve less rights than the sane, they don’t even know what is best for themselves. queer people seek to create a new sane. or rather to go “insane” in our own way the same way anyone who believes in anything does. create our own nexus where our experience of reality is simply true.

hope that helps at all and makes any amount of sense

oh yeah ok computer… maybe i’ll go off about that another time… much of the themes and sound of that record were a jumping off point for us. written in the 1990s, the end of history, time has marched on and yet we are still here stuck in capitalist reality. “did you lie to us tony” as if labour could ever do something about the fact that post 1991 “there is no alternative”… deeply tragic record but love runs through all of it undeniably… maybe i’ll go off about that in another post…

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You’re My Muse [Chapter 1]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.2K

Your phone vibrating against your desk was what caught your attention. Otherwise, with your headphones on, you wouldn’t have heard it. You reached over to turn it off, eyes widening when you saw the time.

“Shoot! I’m gonna be late!” You shot out of your chair and went to the bathroom. Honestly, you did not plan on pulling an all-nighter. But after you were finally able to get some beats to work, you wanted to ride that high and continue working. 

“What to wear? What to wear?” You knew you should have planned your outfit last night. In the end, you wore a hoodie, some wide jeans and a beanie, plain and simple.

“Ah... What do I need?” You stood in front of your desk, mind blanking out due to the unexpected rush to leave the house.

“Laptop, keyboard, iPad, headphones... Notebook, pen...” You swiped off whatever you could carry and dumped them into your duffel bag. There was no time to neatly arrange everything. 

“Which bus was it again?” Scratching your head, you tried to find the instructions on your phone. Thankfully, when you finally found out the route, the bus came rather quickly. You sat down and pulled a mask on.

‘Eden! Sorry, I might be a bit late. Got a little lost and was working all night... - Indigo’

‘No worries. We’ll be in studio 1. - Eden’

You sighed as you read the message. This was not the image you wanted to give on your first day at work. You wanted to maintain a professional image, not one that is tardy and not put together. 

KQ Entertainment

Looking up at the sign, you gulped and adjusted your mask before going in. The security guy at the counter looked at you. He raised an eyebrow, taking in your appearance. You wouldn’t blame him for being suspicious. You looked ordinary, not like someone who would work at an entertainment company. Slowly, you slid your pass over to him. 

“Go ahead.” He nodded to the lifts after approving of your comapny pass. Luckily you had all the access things you needed, collected the day you signed the contract two weeks ago. 

“Studio... 1!” You found the door you were looking for. Before entering, you took a deep breath, gulping as you raised a hand to knock. 

“Indigo?” 

“Eden. Hey.” You smiled behind your mask and wrapped your arms around him. Eden chuckled, reciprocating the hug and even lifting you up slightly. He pulled away and patted your head, leading you into the studio 

“Sorry, I’m late. I didn’t even know the sun had risen while I was working.” You rubbed the back of your neck. 

“Don’t worry about it. It happens to the best of us.” Eden laughed. 

As you stood there, Eden introduced you to the 6 others in the room, also known as members of ‘Edenary’. All producers of different calibre brought in by Eden himself. 

“Nice to meet you, you can call me Indigo.” You bowed and introduced yourself to them after they told you their names. Eden had briefed everyone prior, about your want for personal privacy. So you go by your producer name ‘Indigo’ and you wear a mask to hide the lower half of your face.

“We all know who you are. The famous ghost producer.” Maddox reaches out to shake your hand. 

“Yeah, honestly when Eden said he invited you to join us, we thought he was joking...” Jangmoon scoffed, making Eden roll his eyes. 

“Please, I still have a lot to learn. I look forward to working with all of you and learning new things to improve.” You shyly bowed to them. You’ve only ever exclusively worked underground.

“I heard you only recently started working with idols though. Are you leaving the underground scene?” Oliv asked.

“No, not leaving. I just wanted more exposure. My recent works with idols is all through a ghost network so no one really know me.” You explained. 

“But your name is famous, Indigo. We’re happy to have you onboard.” 

“Like I said, Indigo isn’t going to join Edenary. She is here as a freelancer, to add some new creativity and difference to our music sound. But we’re still a team that works and collaborates together, okay? I’ve already told Hongjoong to come later to meet her after his schedule.” Eden said.

“Yes, boss.” The 6 saluted jokingly and you followed suit with a small giggle. Eden scoffed, already used to the antics of the 6. You waved to them and bowed again as you followed Eden out of the big studio. 

“So studio 1 is where all the big recordings and main meetings happen. I’ll take you to your private studio.” He informed.

“Oh, right. Thank you.” You followed him down the hallway, past a lot of doors.

“So this is the producers’ floor. After you settle in, I’ll give you a tour of the rest of the building.” Eden smiled. 

“This is yours. It has the basic equipment from the brand you told me you use. I got what I could get within the budget. Feel free to add your own stuff to the set up and customise the studio to your liking.” He opened the door.

“Wow.” You were in awe. You were grateful there was some equipment so you wouldn’t have to ferry equipment back and forth.

“So the couch is a pullout like you’ve requested for. The other furniture like table, chairs, cabinets will be paid for by the company. Just put together a list and send it over to me.” 

“Thank you so much, Eden.” You bowed. 

“No need to keep thanking me. I think you have a lot of talent to offer, Indigo. One of the members of the idol group we mainly produce for, Ateez, will come introduce himself to you later. He is the leader or captain actually, name is Hongjoong. He works with us during production a lot so it’s good to meet him and get a feel for his style.” Eden said. 

“Captain?” You tilted your head in confusion. 

“It’s their concept. Pirate ship plus not wanting to follow other groups and have a leader. So they call him captain.” Eden explained with a laugh.

“Got it. Captain, not leader. I’ll be here until then.” You said. 

“If you need anything, I am in Studio 2. Oh and don’t forget to password lock your door.” He informed and left you to give you some time to settle down and set up. 

“Can’t believe I’m actually here.” You shook your head in disbelief. Never would you have expected yourself to be here, working with other people. 

Unzipping your duffel bag, you placed all the equipment you brought on the desk, in a set up that was similar to the one you had at home. It was how you worked the best and comfortably. 

“Monitors, here and here. Speakers will have to be pushed back.” You roughly sketched how you would want you full set up to look like.

“I’ll bring my equiliser... Sound mixer...” Also, you made a list on what extra equipment you would want to bring in. 

“Let’s see... What was I working on?” Putting your headphones on, you started working. Since it was getting a bit hard to breathe and you were alone, you pulled your mask down to your chin as you worked. 

Indigo, the alias name you had chosen for yourself from the time you started working. You worked with rappers and singers that mainly operated underground. Only recently you’ve been giving your works to idol groups but no one has actually met you before. You were known as the ‘ghost producer’.

But Eden reached out, giving you a shot at producing “above ground” for idol groups, where you can learn and earn a lot more. All while maintaining your privacy. So you accepted. 

*DING DONG*

“Huh? Coming!” You pulled your mask up and went to the door. Eden stood there with a very good looking male. 

Besides his handsome face, it was like looking in a mirror. He had blue hair, the colour matching your peekaboo dyed hair. He also had multiple piercings on his ears like yours.

“Indigo, this is Hongjoong. He is the captain of Ateez. Hongjoong, this is Indigo. Our new producer.” Eden introduced.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Hongjoong. I am a big fan and look forward to working with you.” He seemed to hesitate reaching out to shake your hand so he opted to bow politely instead. 

“Hi, Hongjoong. Likewise. You can call me Indigo.” You held your hand out to him and he smiled before slipping his hand into yours to shake it.

“Please, come in. I only have a couch so I apologise.” You invited them in. 

“I need to go meet the big boss. Hongjoong, you stay and get to know our new producer, okay? Take care of her. Actually, you guys kind of look alike now that I look at it.” Eden noted. You scoffed playfully and rolled your eyes as Eden left. Hongjoong’s eyes widened as he cleared his throat. You still invited him in, closing the door behind him. 

“Your blue is like mine.” You said, lifting the upper layer of your hair up to reveal the bright blue underneath that matched Hongjoong. He nodded his head with a smile, fingers going to touch the ends of his blue hair. 

“So, Eden says you produce too?” You asked.

“Yes. I’m usually part of the producing team for my group but I still have much to learn.” He explained, taking a seat on the couch while you wheeled your chair over to sit. 

“Does your entire group produce? Sorry if I’m asking a lot. I just want to know what to expect.” You rubbed the back of your neck.

“No worries at all. Hmm, they don’t really produce. But they do partake in lyric writing. I’ll introduce you to them the next time we have group practice.” 

“Alright. And you can ask me questions too, by the way...” You chuckled.

“Do you always wear a mask?” He outrightly asked. You had expected it, a lot of people ask why you wear a mask and why you want to keep your identity a secret when you could gain fame. 

“Yes, it’s more a security thing. I appreciate the privacy, helps to separate my private and personal life. Maybe one day you’ll know what I look like.” You joked.

“Why did you want to work with Eden hyung or an entertainment company? The underground would be perfect for privacy.” 

“Exposure and experience. I’ve never really worked with a team, I’ve never worked outside of my underground studio. It’s usually me sending my works to others to use; whether it is lyrics or beats or melodies. And working with idols is different compared to the underground scene.” You explained.

“That makes sense. I noticed your name in the credits for a lot of recent songs. I would say expectations are also different. There is a lot more... creative freedom and liberty underground.” He stated.

“You’ve worked underground before?”

“A little... When I was still in school. It was how I met most of Edenary. But it was mainly to learn before I signed to KQ.” He said.

“That’s cool. It would be interesting to work with a team. I can’t be a lone wolf forever, right?” There was some bitterness to the part of your statement. Hongjoong nodded his head with a comforting smile. 

As you and Hongjoong talked, you surprisingly grew comfortable around him quickly, letting your guard down a little. He reminded you of a protective older brother, kind and patient.

“Well, I hope I am able to creatively add to the process, rather than burden the team.” You chuckled.

“Nonsense, I think you’re very talented.” He smiled kindly. 

“I’m looking forward to meet the other members of your team. So I can get to know all your individual styles, as well as the cohesive style of Ateez.” You smiled, wheeling yourself back to your desk to grab your phone.

“Am I not enough for you? That you need to meet my other members.” He feigned hurt, putting a hand over his heart. You shook your hands in quick denial to the point where you actually dropped your device. But Hongjoong was quick, bending down to pick it up for you. He brushed the screen to inspect it for any damage. 

“I was kidding.” He laughed as he held out the device.

“Thank you.” You received it with a small bow of your head. Hongjoong couldn’t help but reach out to pat your head, eyes full of adoration. Only when he realised what he was doing then he pulled away.

“I am so sorry. That was way out of line. I just... never had a sister before and... I don’t even know what I’m saying.” He stuttered.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t have any brothers but it’s weird that I kind of feel like you are one.” You blushed. 

“It’s instinctive for me. Once you get to know my group, you will understand why I have to play to role of older brother, mother and father.” He joked.  

“Are they that chaotic?” 

“I always tell people that when you look at them as 5 year olds, you won’t feel so overwhelmed...” He rubbed the back of his neck, his ears turning slightly red at the tips. You laughed along with him. 

Speaking to Hongjoong was like speaking to a friend, not a celebrity. He was humble, down to earth and relaxed. There wasn’t a point where he made you feel awkward or uncomfortable. Even when talking about producing, he never showed off his knowledge or experience. 

“Once I get more equipment here, it’ll be an easier space for me to work in. But I ran a little later this morning when coming here so I grabbed what I could.” You told him.

“You work at night?” 

“I find it more productive to work at night. Lesser distractions and night is when underground performances usually happen.” You explained.

“What genre do you usually work on?” Hongjoong asked. You thought about it for a while before wheeling yourself over to your desk. You waved him over and he stood up, walking to stand beside you.

“This is what I was working on last night. The reason I was late.” You told him, playing the recording for him. 

“I’m trying different genres now, try to cater to the style of the artist I’m working with. So this is a softer R&B melody.” You explained to him, hiding your nerves.

“I like it. The flow is really nice.” Hongjoong bopped his head to the beat, fingers lightly drumming against the desk. You let out a mental sigh of relief, glad that he liked it considering he was one of the main people you would be working with from now on. But you kept all your emotions and reactions internal, maintaining a stoic face.

“Our style so far has been mainly EDM trap with dark hip hop... with dance-style anthemic songs from time to time. We try to dabble in multiple genres to show our range.” Hongjoong said.

“I’m looking forward to seeing that.” You nodded.

“Here, I’ll give you my number.” Hongjoong said. You handed him your phone and he typed your number, dropping himself a missed call to have your number.

“I have to go now but I’ll see you around.” He waved. You walked him to the door, waving to him as he left. 

You checked your phone and realised that you had been talking to Hongjoong for close to 4 hours. You went to use the washroom and when you came back, you saw a paper bag right at the doorstep.

‘Eden hyung said you hadn’t eaten since you were speaking with me. Make sure to eat. And welcome to KQ! - Captain Hongjoong’

Inside the bag, there was street food like tteokbokki, two kinds of kimbap and some fried snacks. You sent him a thank you text before breaking your chopsticks to begin eating. You ate at your desk since it was the only table you had at the moment. 

“Let’s see... Ateez music video.” You searched for something to watch while eating. You were probably the most unprepared newbie ever, not even doing research on the group that you’re going to work with. 

“Hyung, where are yo- OH MY GOSH!” You were startled by someone just opening the door, turning around in shock. Seeing someone there, you scrambled for your mask but it had dropped to the ground.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know anyone was in here!” The male was flustered, bowing repeatedly.

“It’s fine. Please close the door.” You waved him off behind you. You heard the door close and you bent down to pick up your mask, putting it on. After that, you stood up and poked your head out to see if the guy was still there.

“Hello?” You called out but he must have ran off after the shock. 

“Everything alright, Indigo? I heard a shout.” Maddox also emerged from his studio, a concerned look on his face.

“Oh, yes. Sorry for disturbing. Someone just entered my studio, we scared each other and he must have ran off. I think he wasn’t expecting someone to be in the studio.” You smiled.

“Ah, we thought everyone already knew that you were going to be working in studio 8. Sorry about that.” He apologised. You shook your head.

“I guess this just means I should be introducing myself to everyone.” You giggled. He laughed and nodded his head. Since he made sure you were fine and safe, he went back to his studio. You did the same, making sure to lock the door now as you returned to your food. Now at least people would have to ring the doorbell before coming in. 

You huffed, chewing on the tip of your chopstick. Maybe it was one of Hongjoong’s group members, you didn’t really see his face clearly. You hoped that at the same time, he didn’t see your face. 

"Well, it can’t be helped.” You sighed and finished up your food, wanting to get back to work right away. 

As you continued to work on the same melody, you couldn’t help but hear Hongjoong’s fingers drumming against your desk. 

“Maybe...” You opened up the composition page and tested out adding a light drum to the background, similar to the rhythm that Hongjoong had when he tapped on your table. 

“No, this wasn’t it. What was it?” You clicked your tongue in annoyance, trying different variations of it. After some experimentation, you played it back. 

“Finally!” You threw your head back with a big, victorious smile. It sounded like a nice remix version. Maybe this was a sign that things were going to work out well for you here. 

~

Series Masterlist

[kayas-kosmos]

Autism Symbol Dragon.

This is the autism symbol as a dragon. I did this to represent the influence my autism has on my art. This is a public domain drawing and anyone can use it for any reason.

I really like the infinity autism symbol over all others, especially the Godawful puzzle piece. It really encapsulates the diversity of our community and how unique every autistic individual is. But I wanted to do a little spin on it by turning it into a dragon to add some extra meaning. A dragon to me is the symbol of the imagination itself, since dragons are so diverse in of themselves and can look like or represent anything. But as well as imagination, I think the dragon also represent resilience and a ferocious passion.

My webcomic is absolutely full of different types of dragon. Here are just a few examples:

(Can you tell dragons are one of my special interests?)

I was diagnosed at about 3 and I've had a very mixed relationship with being autistic until recently. There was a time when I really hated having to bear the label of “autistic” and tried for years to erase that part of me because of the stigma. Being an artist allowed me to get away with being a bit weird because I could chalk it up to just being "an eccentric artist," but there was also the side of me that needed extra accommodations and help, the less glamorous side. I would often push myself to be as neurotypical as I could in these areas and I developed a debilitating fear of becoming a burden on others, to the point where it started damaging my mental health. Eventually, I developed panic attacks due to overworking myself (and struggles with accepting myself as queer), autistic shutdowns became more frequent and this lead to further humiliation and a further disgust towards my autism.

It wasn't until I became a freelancer a few years ago that I realised how much damage trying to hold myself to neurotypical standards was having on me. While being able to work remotely was a dream since it meant not having to deal with the sensory nightmare that is using the local bus service, it also meant I experienced autistic burnout more frequently. Then I came across the autistic community on Twitter, where I started to discover so much about myself and how my brain works.

I also made a lot of incredible friends through this and even had the courage to publicly come out as queer. Now I fully embrace being autistic, even the parts that society deems “unacceptable” like stimming and not making eye contact. I am happy in who I am and no longer see myself as a burden.

Sadly, there is often a discussion about whether autism should be cured or not, a discussion that should absolutely not be happening because autism is not a disease. If you "cured" my autism, you would also remove my art. My art and my autism are inseparable and one does not exist without the other. Autism has given me the ability to think outside the box and traits like my monotropism allow me to hyperfocus on a project until its completion. Having spoken to many autistic creatives throughout my life, a good chunk of our struggles do not come from being autistic itself, rather society’s refusal to accept or accommodate us. Many of us could achieve great things and truly innovate society, but there are too many systemic barriers in the way preventing us from doing so, and no amount of “hard work” or “conquering our disability” (fuck inspiration porn, seriously) can change that because individualistic solutions do not fix systemic problems. Simple solutions such as disability benefits that actually properly cover our living costs, a higher wage for carers of disabled people and proper work accommodations (including the option for remote work) would mean the world of difference for us.

Now personally, I am a bit more radical in my thinking and I believe the current system of Neoliberal Capitalism needs to be done away with entirely because ableism is built into Capitalism itself. This is what has drawn me to ideas such as anarchism and the Solarpunk movement. In particular, I try to live by the "12 principles of Permaculture" to the best of my ability. I think "Embrace Diversity" and "Produce No Waste" can be applied to living as a disabled person, since disabled people are often seen as a waste product under this system and embracing our differences means we are not wasted.

For those of you who have followed me for a while, you may have noticed that my art, like me, is weird. I love to embrace the weird and the quirky. My creatures are whimsical and bizarre. My characters all tend to be quirky outsiders. I have always been drawn to surrealism and absurdism, the work of Salvador Dali in particular really caught my attention.

Art has always been a safe way for me to explore the unusual and alien, and it has been a voice for me when speaking words fail. I use it to explore the things that frighten me and to help process a chaotic world. As weird as my art is, I think the weirdness and absurdity is a reflection of how weird and absurd our modern world is and how little sense it makes to me anymore.

There are often themes of environmentalism and the profound beauty of nature, influenced heavily by growing up in an area of natural beauty. Furthermore, the theme of "empathy for monsters" is a personal favourite. Maybe the reason why there are so many weird, twisted and grotesque monsters and creatures with tragic backstories in my webcomic universe is because I see myself in them - just weird little off-putting things that want compassion and to be understood.

As I have grown as a person, so has my art. The more I learn about my autism, the more I can open up and the better I can express myself.

On a final note, if you would like to support me and the work I do, please consider donating a Ko-Fi. It would really help me push towards my goal of finally launching my webcomic, plus it would also allow me to talk more about important topics surrounding disability, sustainable living and art/creature stuff.

Happy new year, everyone! And especially to all of my autistic and neurodivergent comrades out there.

[whatsurnameblog]

We Have an Update on Nanami.

After days of no contact, someone finally texts you with an update on Nanami’s whereabouts.

"We have an update on Nanami."

As soon as the message popped up on your phone, you were out of the door.

You thanked the heavens for the fact that your home was in such an isolated part of Kyoto but you undoubtedly missed the sounds of the city that accompanied much of your childhood. Kento was always on the fence about that topic, though he preferred a bit of quiet. The man was almost more fond of silence than jujutsu, that’s where you two were similar.

Your inattentive and hurried steps slipped your keys out of your hand and onto the ground by the car door allowing you a glimpse of your frantic state in the side-view mirror. With your right hand, you combed through some of the flyaways and knots in your hair that you neglected to notice and gathered yourself together. The bags beneath your eyes taunted your youth and the lack of moisturizer on your face was shamefully obvious.

And you couldn’t afford to worry Kento. Only one of you could be worried and you certainly reserved the right.

While standing up straight, you opened the car door with a newfound facade of calm and slid into the driver’s side. Placing your bag in the passenger seat, you jumped as the door slammed shut without you having grabbed it yet. This car was one of the newer models Kento bought with money from some freelance job he did for the government, so without needing to insert an actual key, you took in a breath as you pressed the button to start the engine. As you gathered your seatbelt and clicked it in, you pulled off towards Jujutsu Tech.

You hummed a made-up song as you rolled the windows down a bit, November has never been this beautiful. The weather felt hopeful. A small smile graced your lips as you spotted little landmarks that told you, you were going the right way. You were a bit excited to see the school again and hoped to run into Shoko to slide her your late birthday gift.

But you also couldn’t help focusing on that little feeling bugging you.

The government has called for a national emergency after the city failed to bring back power and service to all the residents. People have evacuated their homes to avoid what the public deemed “mysterious deaths.” No one truly knows what killed all those people in Shibuya.

And Kento is missing. Was missing.

You had reached the final turn of your journey, Jujutsu Tech was just up ahead. The school didn’t really have parking due to an incident that happened decades ago, so you pulled up on the grass right in front of the first entrance.

With an impatient quickness, you made sure the car was turned off, you pressed some face moisturizer and chapstick to your face and lips, grabbed your bag and flung the door open. Your winter boots were fast on the pavement as you walked towards the main building of the school.

Today was a special day, one you waited days for.

That’s when you see it, the short head of hair with thick black glasses and a woman in a lab coat speaking passionately about things you could only theorize.

“Masamichi, Ieiri!” you shouted but when neither moved you began to pick up the pace in your walk.”HEY SHOKO, YAGA, I’m here!”

Both sets of eyes turned to you in shock, it was obvious neither expected your arrival, especially because it seemed that both were leaving.

You relaxed as you joined them, the sweat on your body drying up with the cold air and just like a little girl, your inner game of i-spy got the best of you.

“What’s with all the boxes?” you questioned with a quirk of your brow. “And the handwriting I’m guessing is Masamichi’s?”

He looked between you and Ieiri with a knowing look and sighed, “Yes, it’s mine, I’m just boxing some stuff up to put in storage before heading off to Tokyo for a while.”

“Ah ok,” you smiled. “It has been a hard few weeks– months even, hasn’t it?”

“It truly has,” he placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Oh man, how about a hug before I’m off, huh?”

“It’s just Tokyo!” you comment.

“Oh just humor me, I’m getting old!” Yaga laughed and held his arms out expectantly.

“That you are.” Shoko sassed before dragging you into a brief group hug.

How unusual. You thought.

“Alright, you girls take care yeah? See you when I see you!” And with that, he and his boxes were off with a whistle.

The air was gentle in its movement and the silence the two of you stood in was antagonizing. Your fist was sweaty as you clenched it and your lips dried quickly in the late Autumn air. Your gaze wandered to Shoko as she looked out at Jujutsu Tech. So many memories and so few people to share them with.

“Let’s go inside, we can order something for everyone, what do you think?”

“Why are you here?” Shoko questioned you flatly.

“W-what?” You turned to her, confusion on your face. “You texted, said you had an update on Nanami so…”

“So I was going to come to the house.” She explained. Her face held some of its usual calmness but her eyes turned up with distress.

“Your attitude is unnerving at the moment, Ieiri.”

“Mine?” Her eyes widened. “Did you think logically at all while coming here?”

Her face was balled up in disbelief. She stepped back to take a look at you before composing herself. You on the other hand could not be more offended and frustrated.

“Think logically?! Shoko, what's your problem? I just came to see Kento.”

This is the first time you’ve seen the woman so distraught. Her eyes were teary and her hair stuck to her face as she clenched the strap of her bag, “I know you’re not dumb per se, you knew that when you walked up to me I wasn’t expecting you to come and even in the time we’ve stood here, I have not taken you to Nanami,” she took in a breath as she says your name. “I was on my way to yours.”

Her annoyance with you wasn’t pure, that much you could tell but you found yourself clueless as to why she was taking this tone with you. Instead of jumping on your friend and possibly having a huge argument when it’s evident that you both have been going through such a tough time, you opt for silence as you think about the past couple of days up to now.

“Did you even look at the rest of your texts?” she sighed. “Where’s your phone?”

Your hands were sloppy in going to grab it from your bag and five minutes into your search, you realized it wasn’t there. And while checking your pockets the image of you leaving it on your coffee table flashed strongly in your mind.

“I don’t… have it…”

“Figures…” Shoko tutted. “I texted that I’d meet you at your place because well… you know why.”

Her eyes were sharp and stern, like that of a mother reminding a child of the rules. And after wracking your brain for any possible answer, you concluded that you do. You know exactly why Shoko didn’t rush to take you to Kento. You know why he hasn’t at least texted or called, why he hasn’t tried to contact you at all. You know he went to Shibuya that night to watch out for Yuji, you know. You know why he isn’t in front of you right now. You just refused to admit it.

“Shoko…” you shook your head with wide eyes as your hand laid on the place between your chest and the base of your neck.

He couldn’t be. No not when you feel so much hope, it’s impossible. You and Kento are connected, your souls so intertwined you’d both joked about being lovers in past lives. You two are so close that you can decipher his emotions by reading the lines on his face, the slight movement of his lips, the change in his posture… you can even feel him when he’s not there. And you felt him, all these days you’ve felt him, at least you think you did.

“Everyone… they’re all… Satoru isn’t but he’s- I don’t,” she trails off as tears silently cascade down her face. “And they said Suguru was there but he- he wasn’t him.”

“Shoko, please tell the truth…”

There was a whiplash of emotion. You felt way too hot and way too cold. Everything around you moved all too fast and all too slow. A pint of nausea crept into your gut, the only reason it results in nothing is due to the lack of food and energy you failed to have while Kento was away. You were in agony, the feeling of horror and disbelief crawling into a hole so deep inside you it already began to rot.

“I’ve never even felt this way before, I usually feel so calm, not empty just a bit unbothered but this time, this time I feel so much, too much.”

“Oh, Shoko.” You joined her in her emotions, your knees weak, melting under distress, you fumbled to the stairs beside her. Your cough was girthy and your mouth furrowed with your eyebrows, you pleaded with her. “Oh, I- I… I’m sorry I just-, please say the truth.”

She slightly bends forward at your misstep to make sure that you’re okay and once she gets that overcompensating nod, she straightens up with despair almost permanently etched into her face. “He’s gone… Kento is gone, dead…and I’m so sorry,” she choked.

“Oh, w-what am I going to do? I can’t-… how am I supposed to live Shoko? Tell me, tell me Shoko how?!.” You retch, chest erratic as you struggle for air. You clutch your stomach as thick tears roll down your chin.”This hurts…so much.”

For the third time today, you were reminded of your childhood as you cried and hugged your legs on the steps of Jujutsu Tech. Shoko watched as you broke down and she couldn’t contain her composure as her bag fell from her arm and her hands searched to embrace you. Your sorrow was too great to suppress, so you gave up on fighting it.

Nanami, the man whom you named the love of all your lives, was gone, really gone in every sense of the word and there was nothing anyone could do to bring him back. You were sure you still felt him, and now you see that it was only your heart deceiving your mind.

Everything switched at the realization, causing pain and grief to strike your body in constant waves, and every sound, every figure, even the gushing of the wind, was blurred and muffled. You looked to Shoko, watching as her mouth trembled and stumbled on the words detailing all she tried to do to save him, but life was already too far gone. To try and save Kento Nanami would be like grabbing for air.

You were inconsolable, so much so that your emotions had spilled you from Shoko’s arms and placed you on the ground, bowing before your heartache at her feet.

Your home was no longer ours.

Your love was no longer shared.

You were empty, the only thing in you left was nothing at all. You might as well be dead too

© whatsurnameblog 2024, do not copy or repost anywhere

[rockybloo]

Ive recently just started doing art, and i apologize in advance if you've gotten this question before frequently, do you have any tips for beginner artists and how did you find your art style? I'm constantly amazed by how you do anatomy and expressions, their so distinct and expressive!

Thank you!

And I actually don't get asked a lot of questions about myself when it comes to art. Many come to this account so I can put my OCs on the phone for questions, so this is lowkey a new question. I might have been asked it before years ago but I am better at drawing now.

HOWEVER, I have to state that I am simply a hobbyist artist and not a freelancer or professional so my tips will be kinda off brand compared to their word. ANYWAYS...

THINGS THAT I FIND HELPFUL FOR ARTING (besides practicing because I mean...we all know the only way to get better is to practice so it'd be kinda redundant say it - we all know to do it)

Practice drawing in pen. Pen can't be erased. So instead of sketching and erasing and sketching and erasing, it is nonstop sketching. It helped me a lot with speeding up my sketching, even in digital, because I got used to making little goofy mistakes. It also helps to fight perfectionism

Use references. I know that's just as redundant as saying to practice but references are genuinely underrated. Whether they be colors or poses - references are your friend. I use them whenever I am having a hard time drawing something.

Redraw things. I occasionally redraw memes or scenes from animated movies with my OCs. It's stranger really helpful, especially if there is a certain expression in the original image because it lets you play around with how to draw it to catch the correct vibes. PLUS redrawing funny stuff helps take the stress off creating art because it reminds you not every drawing has to be amazing.

Don't neglect your body when you draw. STOP DRAWING WHEN YOU ARE HUNGRY, THIRSTY, OR NEED THE BATHROOM! THE DRAWING CAN WAIT - YOU WILL HAVE A MUCH EASIER TIME CREATING ART WHEN YOU ARE NOT SUFFERING FROM THE HUMAN CONDITION.

Stretch your hands. Drawing puts strain on them and your fingers will ache and your hand may get stiff. Practically hand and finger stretches keeps your hands happy. I do them all the time just because I use my hands a lot for art AND my day job.

Numbers are the devil and the algorithm is a warlord. If you post your art online, it's easy to get into the mindset that you aren't good enough because you have low interactions on your work. THIS IS FALSE - NUMBERS DO NOT EQUAL QUALITY. It's better to draw for yourself and the enjoyment of art rather than drawing to attract a fanbase and attention

As for how I figured out my art style, what you all see is the result of me taking bits and pieces from things I like and blending it all together. An art style is really just figuring out what stuff you like from other people's styles and doing your own thing with it.

To break down some of my own style, the way I shade the underside of noses is something I got from Soul Eater since I loved how the anime marked noses with little dots.

The way I draw lips was a journey. I used to only line the top lip like how the manga for D Gray Man would. Then I saw how Steven Universe stylized fuller lips and sort of started playing with that. Over the course of me exploring - I found more online black artists and learned from how they shade and render lips.

Style is very much something that takes a long time to develop. I've been active online since 2011 and it took me until this year to finally figure out a style I really vibe with.

[aylish91]

A Den Of Snakes

@seirindono I promised you a story about nagas a while ago but remembered you also liked mob/mafia aus. So this little piece started poking around my brain. New Au? Maybe? Don’t know, but I hope you like it!

Sorry if there are any mistakes, my computer has been a little glitchy lately and skips over a lot of stuff. haha!

~ ~ ~

A black and red-bellied naga lounged behind a grand desk drumming his gold-laden phalanges against the hard wood. The clicks from the sharp tipped claws were slow and methodical, prickling the hair on your neck as the man who escorted you scuttled from the room. A brief glance back revealed another standing in the corner, darker blue scales fading into a light underbelly. 

Both wore impeccable suits, fedoras casting eerie shadows over their faces. 

Both, were heads of the mafia…

Unfortunately for you, you were learning things tonight. Some more important than others, but all things you wished you had known before. Like finding out the mafia existed or that it wasn’t a connotation when you had heard people being called Snakes. 

They were, in fact, giant man-eating snakes or those who worked for one.

Before moving here, you would have sworn mobs and mafias no longer existed. But here you were, holding a package filled with who knows what, while a concerningly large naga monster stared you down. To make matters worse, his upper half was that of a skeleton, piercing red orbs intently watching you from the void of his sockets.

It called into question every reason you had decided to become a freelance courier. It also explained why you had been getting jobs with increasingly higher payouts over the last several months.

If only you had figured it out sooner…

The tapping stopped, replaced by a deep drawl from the monster before you as he rose with an unsettling scraping of scales. “Good of you to finally make it, Doll. Been wait’n fer this for a while.” 

You tried not to focus on the sheer amount of coils and tail he had or the knowledge that there was a second equally large mass behind you. Instead, you locked onto those red orbs and ignored the feeling of eyes on your back. 

You had to be strong. That was all you could do in a situation like this. Suppress the shaking of your hands, show respect, and maintain a polite and professional manner. It got you through some of your more sketchy transactions and would hopefully get you through this one.

Letting out a breath, you did your best to offer a sincere smile.

“I apologize if the delivery took longer than anticipated, Sir. This was a bit last minute and I was not given proper warning as to the procedures of your establishment. In the future, should I be hired to make a delivery here, I will make sure to take that into consideration.” Pulling out your phone, you opened it to the electronic signature page. “If I could just get your preferred signature indicating the package has been delivered, I can be out of your way.”

As you presented your phone and package, you resisted the urge to look down and flinch when something brushed against your leg. The monster behind the desk didn’t move except to smirk and take out a particularly fat cigar. 

“That won’t be necessary. I know the guy who sent it and I have no plans on let’n ya go. You are part of the delivery, after all.”

Your smile strained.

Whatever you do, don’t show fear.

It was like a mantra in the back of your mind as you processed what was just said.

Movement behind you broke your concentration, something brushing against your opposite leg. The smug look of the naga before fell into a sneer, eyelights morphing into thin slits. 

There was an edge to his hiss.

“Sans, don’t–”

You almost tripped when a blue coil forced you back against a warm sturdy chest, an arm wrapping around to pin you in place. “I was wondering why you had me go through all the trouble of using this one. Heh. Didn’t think it would turn out to be something this interesting, Red.”

Red reared up, eyelights flaring with magic while his body physically puffed and shifted beneath him. Your heart raced, cold sweat beading on your neck from the sudden fear.

“Think ya overstayed your welcome, Sans. How bout ya go back ta the main house where ya belong and stay outta my business.”

Sans’ arm tightened around you but his voice seemed unbothered and relaxed. “Can’t do it bud. Your business just became our business. Think the others would agree with me.”

The air buzzed. “I found em first. Back off.”

You could feel the low chuckle rumble through you at Sans’ reply. “Sorry Red. Maybe next time.”

In a split second, Red lunged, throwing his massive body across the room with a roar. All you could do was close your eyes with a cry and brace for the inevitable impact. You felt strangely breathless after, as if you were falling. Then, with a very jarring sensation and an oomph from your captor, you fell forward and over top a pile of blue scales.

“BROTHER!!! I THOUGHT YOU ALL AGREED TO SHORTCUT INTO THE GARDEN, NOT THE LIVING ROOM!”

Confused by the new voice, you jerked up, frantically looking around. To your relief and horror, you found you were no longer inside Red’s office but in a truly massive and grand room filled with lounging cushions and short tables. However, there were also no less than three naga skeleton monsters among them. All eyes focused on you.

The ground moved.

“Sorry bro. Was in a bit of a hurry. Got an important delivery I wanted to make sure ya all saw.” Gloved skeletal hands lifted you to your feet before gripping your shoulder. “Heh heh. Welcome to The Den kid.”

…

Oh. Oh no…

Grand Master            Mafia Master

[aurorialwolf]

Y’all ever heard of epigenetics?

Okay, mildly (though some not) angsty parent!Darlin and parent!Sam headcanons for what their kid would be like (focusing on ages 15-19)

So; for starters, the name I chose for my lil guy, the son of Sam and Darlin, is Samuel Jr. Sylvester Collins-Barrera (Barrera being the last name I hc for my Darlin)

Also, my hc for Darlin is that they’re half or fully Mexican and can speak Spanish fluently

Gonna start off with average character stuff

- Everyone his age calls him Samuel, some of the older pack call him Junior, to differentiate from his father

- He’s fluent in Spanish, lies about it though to take a Spanish class to breeze through a couple credits for high school

- Now, this one depends on what mood I’m in, but he’s either a Freelancer or a Shifter before he gets turned (more on that later), orrr if I’m feeling real funky and wanna ignore some canon lore I make him a bit of a hybrid, able to shift but quite adept at freelancer magics

- Him and Darlin’ spar, so his combat ability is honed to the point of them being evenly matched by the time he’s 19, but he can never quite defeat them in a match

- When he gains access to his magic at 13, Sam teaches him some small magic, and starts teaching him healing, which he picks up quickly

- Eventually specializes in healing, with a minor in illusions and dabbles in elemental magic at D.A.M.N. (This is in the further future though so this isn’t in a timeline order or anything)

- He shifts accidentally for the first time at home with Sam, 3 days after the solstice, not a very fun experience :(, and Darlin isn’t home, so Sam kinda freaks out cuz he doesn’t know what to do

- Not going to discuss the other pack kid headcanons here much (different post perhaps?) but basically, David has a son, and Samuel (the kid I’m talking about in this post) has a crush on him (him being the son of David)

- Vivienne, Vincent’s daughter, and him are very close, both being kids of clan-less vampire parents, so they can relate to each other the most

- He’s just as much of a vigilante as Darlin was, which makes his parents very worried, but he can heal himself, and use magic, helping him be better off in fights

Okay, now for the angst!! Yay :D

- He and David argue a lot about his reckless actions, leading him to distance himself from David and act similarly to how Darlin did, albeit relying on the general pack much more

- This one requires a small explanation; in my headcanon of how kids of vampires work (since they kinda can’t reproduce in canon etc idk it’s weird), they still inherit the current blood of their vampire parent, as well as their parents original blood (I did take a bio class so ik it would prob be only their old blood bc of genes and gametes but it’s cooler this way lol), and if their parent’s blood is from a very strong old-blood, it can affect the child adversely when they reach the age of unlocking their magic

- Sooooo because Samuel Jr. has Solaire blood, he’s turned by his own blood trying to take over the rest of his body when he’s 15, and basically dies!! Coming back as a vampire ofc

- And this is massively depressing for Sam, like majorly,, because as his son dies in his arms he tries his best to heal him and fails, not to mention he’s now the reason his son has lost the same freedoms Sam did many years ago :(

- In my headcanon of how this works with being turned early and stuff I think Samuel Jr. continues to age until he’s physically about 19 ish

- Ofc Samuel is bitter asf and says some super vitriolic stuff to Sam, temporarily severely harming their relationship, though they make up afterwards

- While in bloodlust, Sam and Darlin try bringing him to pack stuff still, but he’s a danger to non-vampires, making things difficult

- David eventually starts to get protective of the pack, seeing him as a possible threat (does it get dehumanizing? Yeah a little bit) but David’s son doesn’t care, and hangs around Samuel even though it’s dangerous, letting him drink his blood

- At one pack event David can’t find Samuel or his son and gets a bit panicky, even though he tries to hide it, and gets Sam, eventually they find them both, David’s son (who is the same age as Samuel, my guy ain’t feeding on a child dw 🥲) sitting on a bed playing a game on his phone, with Samuel calmly drinking from his wrist

- David is confused and a little frustrated, but his son explains that Samuel still has enough control, and that just because he’s been turned doesn’t mean he should be outcasted even during bloodlust (though he’s a little bit wrong because Samuel really is a danger but yk,, it’s ok Samuel is trying really hard to be careful around him bc he still has the crush from when they were kids)

- David cares about Samuel I promise 🥲 but he’s very concerned for the general well-being of the pack

- Samuel, being a stubborn guy just like both his parents, refuses to accept that he’s a vampire and is unable to enter sunlight and does some.. very reckless experiments, essentially running into sunlight at pack gatherings when no one’s looking and having to be dragged back by one of the nearby shifters

- Eventually he finds a weird way to alter his own core with a lot of magic, but he’s not really altering it, it’s more like his core never fully changed because he only had >49% Solaire blood so it didn’t have full effect (that does mean Vincent’s daughter got fully turned though 😔) so he can oddly change between forms, still having many disadvantages ofc (mary sue? Nooooooooo why would I do that :3 I just like multi-faceted powerful folks yeeeup) like sensitivity to sunlight, and a hard limit on how long he can retain his humanity (he can seem totally human / a shifter / a freelancer for about 2 hours until his hold on the magic keeping his core the right way slips)

- So once he’s around 17 he’s got a good hold on his magic, having reaccessed it after his experiments when he was 16 ish

- ..this does mean he’s a pretty crazy fighter now after a while of practice

Nowwwww who remembers me mentioning epigenetics way at the beginning of this lol (I promise I’m almost done but he’s my favourite redacted oc 😞)

- Fair warning this may imply that Darlin has the ability to birth so erm if that isn’t your cup of tea that’s totally okay and you can ignore this bit

- Basically Darlin’s epigenetics are passed onto him, and he has some major mental baggage because of it, being far more prone to mental health problems :(

TW: ALCOHOLISM

- He also copes very unhealthily with his problems by drinking, so much so that he swears off alcohol and stays sober when he’s only 20 and still can’t drink legally (in the US at least) :((

tw over it’s ok to read now

Okay okay that’s it for now I know I blabbered so much just now immm sorrryyyyy 😞

I will be posting more because there is a lot more to this little canon divergent thingy of mine !! Been having this in my brain for almost two years now but felt it was too.. idk.. self indulgent? Cuz I made him a littleeee too powerful and cool 😔 but I give him disadvantages so it’s ok ✅!!

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

A Possible Price x Journalist Reader Short Story

Word Count: 1k

"You ever been in love before, Captain?"

Price nearly chokes on his spit when he hears Gaz ask him that, lowering the cigar in his hand he'd just started smoking.

The two men stood outside a pub near the north side of Hereford, just about ready to call it an evening. Light snowfall dotted the pink sky like little white dandelions blowing away in the wind, as the docile crowds made their way about the snow-covered city.

Price scratched his head, somewhat perplexed, his black beanie hugging his hair as the cold air of his breath fogged around him. "In need of a bit of advice, Kyle?" he teases.

"Nah, nothin' like that, sir," Gaz shrugs casually. He slips his hands back into his pockets, looking off towards the street. "I just never hear you talk about anyone. Been startin' to think you might be some kind of grumpy, old hermit, Captain."

Price chuckles, taking another drag from his cigar. "A hermit?" he says. "Well, can't say I haven't heard that one before. As far as my love life goes..."

Price thinks back for a second, letting his gruff voice start to trail off into a distant thought, as some even further memories start to resurface. Some he hasn't thought about in quite some time now.

He blows the smoke out from his lips leisurely, shuffling in his stance a bit as he spoke. "I haven't had the pleasure," he states.

"Really?" Gaz sounds genuinely shocked by this. "Never?"

"You sound shocked," Price grins.

"I am," Gaz admits. "We talking 40-year-old virgin?"

"Now you're just havin' a go at me, Sergeant," Price laughs. He wouldn't comment on the fact that Gaz had been a few years off on the Captain's age. No doubt he looked the part of the old man, all the same. "I've been in my fair share of rodeos, believe me."

"But nothing serious?"

"Jesus kid, am I bein' interviewed?" Price laughs to himself.

"These are important questions, Captain," Gaz says sarcastically. "Between brothers-in-arms."

Now Price knew the Sergeant was just twisting his arm a bit, how he imagined a son probably would act at his age. At times, Price had to remind himself that Gaz was not his son; it felt easy to forget lately. Both men were also a bit tipsy, so he'd give Gaz a break on the intrusiveness of his questions.

Truthfully, the Captain didn't care about sharing with Gaz more details about his personal life. Price never was much for secrets, he just wasn't someone who'd go around sharing personal details uninvited, either.

If you want to know him, just ask, he's always thought.

Price finishes his cigar, flicking it off to the side before slipping his hands back into his pockets, sighing to himself as he thought back to the one person he could say meant a damn to him at some point. Jesus was that a long time ago though, he's realized.

"There was someone, once," he admits. "An American woman. Friend of Laswell's."

Gaz gasps. "Was she a spy?"

Price blows raspberries, squinting his eyes with joking disapproval. "She wishes," he says. "She was a journalist. Freelance. Never really good at it, but it always did make her happy. Though it was hard to tell at times..."

"Is she 'the one that got away' then, sir?"

Price chuckles to himself at the Sergeant's comment, though he doesn't follow it up with a reply. His silence speaks volumes enough.

"Say it ain't so, Captain," Gaz teases. "You ever try lookin' her up again?"

Price shakes his head immediately, wanting to laugh just at the thought. He couldn't even imagine how that interaction would go. "She wouldn't want to see me," he says. "I'm sure she'd sooner drown herself at sea."

Gaz shakes his head in defeat for his Captain. The Sergeant has certainly had his fair share of burnt bridges with past lovers. He can only imagine how many bridges his Captain's had to burn.

"You never know, though," Gaz shrugs. "Time changes people."

A car pulls up to the side of the road, stopping right in front of the men. The driver didn't even need to roll the window down before they both knew who was inside -- Gaz's younger sister Maya.

She waves to both men, long black curls bouncing playfully and her eyes especially ogling her brother's attractive, older boss. She did that a lot. Seeing as she was half his age and related to his colleague, however, Price couldn't be any less interested.

"Hi, John!" she waves to him, completely ignoring as Gaz made his way over to the passenger's side of the car. "You do something different with your mustache?"

"Just a new shampoo I've been trying out," Price unconsciously begins to stroke the facial hair on his chin.

"It looks good!"

Gaz gags to himself, remaining in the door of the passenger's side. "Maya, please," he warns her. He then turns back to his Captain. "Need a lift, sir?"

"I was lookin' forward to takin' a walk actually," Price declines. "You both have a good night."

Price watches Gaz drive off, waiting for him to round the corner before finally letting out a small sigh.

Lately, Price has suspected that the Sergeant felt bad for him, pitying him if the word wasn't so harsh. Gaz has known his Captain for years, including all the nothingness he had to return home to every time the team had leave. Gaz couldn't quite wrap his head around someone being content with coming home to just an empty house and his own devices, but it's been a suitable life for Price thus far.

If it ain't broke, why fix it?

Apart from his dog and neighbor, the Task Force had been his family, as had the SAS. When life took him away from that, he always had himself and his career. What more was there to need?

Price lingered outside the pub for a moment longer, however, pondering over Gaz's words. Thinking back to a time when he once felt ready to drop everything for a relationship as wracked with highs and lows as yours had been.

Time changes people...

Price always thought he knew that better than anyone.

Chapter One Here!

Idk what this is. A bit self-indulgent, the first thing I typed for Price, believe it or not. It's been sitting in my drafts since mid-April. At the time it had come down between this and Bloodstained Honesty. But this plot kind of haunts me, ngl.

An Angst turned Fluff Romance Story. That's the rough idea I had in mind anyway. Heavily inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Though this is just a brain fart of that basically. Thoughts?

[drefear]

Dancing On My Own (Short Aizawa Drabble)

Aizawa x reader, just some fluff based on a video I watched.

Tw : literally nothing, pure innocence.

Dancing around was something you did often when your boyfriend was working. Since you mainly worked from home, you had a lot of free time. Freelance writing was a job where you could make your own schedule and it was perfect for you. A lot of the time, you’d work in the morning after sleeping a bit late, pick up a few writing jobs and finish them kinda quickly (thanks to your quirk) and then cook, write your book that you’d been working on since college, dance around a bit, take a nap, feed Sir Purrington; basically, whatever you wanted. It was the perfect life for you and when you met your boyfriend, he fit in like the last missing piece. He would wake up early, make breakfast and get ready, wake you up and feed you, to then go to work.

Normally, you were done with your little procrastination party before he got back home from UA, but today was different. You’d received a text that he’d be staying after school for detention, so you took your time all day. Writing didn’t start until you took a long bath and shower, then doing some jobs and taking a break and going back. This cycle went on for hours until you were finally caught up and satisfied with your work.

Next was cookie baking, a random thought you had while doing one job about an ad for a kid’s pizza palace. As you waited, you danced around in one of Aizawa’s sweatshirts and a pair of shorts you had since highschool. With the music so loud, you didn’t hear your boyfriend walk through the door and lean on the wall beside the kitchen. The smile on his face was pure and gentle, watching the love of his life wiggle and squirm awkwardly to a song with heavy guitar and rough vocals. The spoon in your hand and the flour on your (his) shirt was possibly the most precious sight he’d ever seen.

An idea struck the insomniac and he crouched, sneaking over to you quietly, which was pointless since you enjoyed your music just as loud (maybe louder) than Hizashi. His hands grabbed at your hips and a low growl rung out through your ears instead of the music pumping throughout the house. You squealed in surprise as he chuckled at the shocked face you made. Spinning you in his arms, he pulled you close to his chest and pressed your back against the countertop, holding you. Your face relaxed as you recognized your man standing before you.

“When did you get home?” You asked innocently, eyes wide with admiration.

“Not long ago, I was just in time to watch your performance. Why don’t you ever do that when I’m home?” He questioned, moving in closer to nuzzle your face. The heat coming off your cheeks was enough, if not more, to cook the baked goods.

“It’s embarrassing, I can’t just dance around the house in my underwear when you’re watching.”

“Aw, but I like the view. You were the perfect show for me.” He whispered and planted a kiss to your cheek, then your forehead. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?”

“Say it again.” You said, sounding more like a demand, which made him chuckle.

“I love you more than I ever thought I could.” He admitted, cupping your face in one of his hands and you sighed happily.

“I love you too Shota.”

[resowrites]

The Trees - oneshot.

Summary: A walk in the woods takes an unexpected turn for Henry and his gf…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: adult themes, angst, relationship difficulties, dialogue heavy, language, mentions of parental loss/relationship breakdown/su!c!de attempt/appetite loss/panic attack/grief, pregnancy loss, child abuse, fluff, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2936

A/N: Welp, this was meant to be uploaded ages ago but the themes and my crippling brain fog (yay) meant it took forever. Take care with this one. I’ve tried to write as carefully/sensitively as I can, but please heed the warnings or skip if you’re unsure (your wellbeing is more important). As ever, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts - R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

The Trees - oneshot.

"How about some toast?"

"I'm good, thanks love."

"Why don't you have some fruit then? Or I can make you a smoothie?" Henry began scanning the fridge for other ideas.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry—"

"You have to eat darling—"

"Please can I go back upstairs? I've got so much work to get through…"

"In a little while, we can go sit in the living room if it's more comfortable but you're at least going to have some tea and rest for a bit. Come on." He gently tried to herd her out of the kitchen.

"… I'm gunna go for a walk."

"What? Ollie come back here, you're exhausted—"

"Just for a little while alright? I can't sit around and do nothing." She stopped by the front door and wound a thick scarf twice around her neck.

"But sometimes you have to do that, or—"

"Or what?"

"Darling, you're not sleeping, you're not eating—"

"Henry, I'm just a bit stressed with work, that's all. I'll be back in half an hour."

"Well, wait I'll go with you, you're not going into the woods by yourself—"

"It's fine, I'll take the dogs. Don't you have meetings?"

"My next one's not for another hour and I took the dogs out earlier so we can leave them here." But Copper was already sitting by her feet, her head tilting in confusion.

***

"She's a cheeky little bugger, every morning now she sits waiting by the front door for walkies." Henry chuckled. 

"She's getting so big..."

"Tell me about it, soon she'll be jumping up into the airing cupboard like Kal. You know I found the little shit in there again this morning? Can't really blame him with weather like this though, it's brass monkeys. Are you sure you're warm enough?" She hummed back but otherwise, his attempt at conversation had fallen flat. She was still walking slightly ahead, lost in her own thoughts. He tried again. "So what's going on with work at the moment? I thought you were over the first couple of hurdles?"

"Freelancing's not that straightforward, unfortunately."

"Well is it anything I might be able to help with?"

"It's lovely of you to offer but I'll be alright. There'll be other contracts if I don't secure this one."

"That'a girl… how are you feeling at the moment though? In yourself, I mean?"

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah, so what's your meeting about this afternoon?"

"Don't change the subject, Ollie—"

"I'm not—"

"Then can you tell me how you are?" She sighed and stopped abruptly.

"I just did!"

"Well I heard you on the phone this morning—"

"You were listening to my call?"

"No, I just heard the end of it when I came upstairs. Did your therapist need to change your appointment?"

"No, that wasn't them. They've… referred me to someone else."

"What, why?"

"Cos we're not a good fit." Henry waited for her to continue but instead, her eyes remained fixed on the floor. He tried another tack.

"Before I forget, your sister also rang me. She tried to get through but you must have still been on the phone. Your father's funeral is next week, do you think you're up to going?"

"No."

"Well, shall we wait and see how you feel?"

"No, I'm not going."

"Why not? It might help you start drawing a line under everything—"

"Henry, my mother doesn't really want me there, she just can’t get away with not asking."

"Well fuck what she wants, you need the closure—"

"There's no such thing."

"Of course there is—"

"No, there isn't. That's not how real life works." Henry waited a beat before responding.

"You know you can talk to me about him?"

"Henry, I said I'm okay—" he stopped finally and waited for her to do the same.

"No you're not, you've not been right for months. You've not even been eating properly since December. I'm really worried Ollie. I want us to get married in the spring, start planning for the future—" something then clicked in her mind.

"Wait, what did my sister tell you?"

"What?"

"What did she say, Henry?" Her voice had risen in alarm.

"Darling, it was nothing I didn't already suspect—"

"So you know everything? Henry, it was a long time ago, I was desperate—"

"Ollie what are you talking about? We discussed your father but that was it—"

"No, no this can't be happening…" she clasped the sides of her head in shock.

"Whoa, you're alright, look at me." She struggled to stay standing. "Ok, let's find somewhere to sit, come on." Fortunately, they were nearing the wood’s halfway point, which was marked by an old wooden bench. Henry was relieved to see it was empty and promptly sat her down. "There, now. Take some deep breaths darling, slow down for me. Just focus on my hand." He continued rubbing her back until her breathing came under control. She managed to fight off the attack, but only just.

"Can we… go home, please?" Henry pulled a water bottle from his pocket and helped her drink from it.

"Let's stay here for a bit, just until you're steadier on your feet." The next few minutes passed uneasily. "I really wish you'd unburden yourself though—" she scoffed and staggered upwards, turning to face him directly.

"So I can burden you instead?"

"Ollie sit back down. There will never be anything you can't tell me—" but she cut him off.

"Well thanks to my sister, I now don't have a choice, do I? God, I can't believe this..." she wearily took a seat, holding her head in her hands for several moments. "Fine. If you really want the truth I'll give it to you." When she finally spoke again, both her eyes and voice were strangely flat. "My last fiancé and I didn't mutually split. He just woke up one day and decided he wanted out. There were no signs, there wasn't even anyone else, he just didn't love me anymore. It was like the sky had fallen in. The pain was just… indescribable. He loved me like no one ever had before and as the days started to blend together I became convinced that it would always end that way, that the fundamental problem was me. I mean if my own father could stop loving me, what hope would there be for any other man?

"One night, a couple of months after we split, I woke up with what I thought at first was just a stomach ache. How I kept it together in the taxi I'll never know. I vaguely remember bleeding as I walked into A&E but the rest is just a blur of pain and vomit. Before I know it, I'm in a hospital bed being told I lost a sixteen-week pregnancy. I was just so… stunned. I kept asking the doctor to repeat himself. I mean you know what my periods are like and to be honest, by that point I'd already lost most of my sense of time. I hadn't had a single symptom, not one," she paused, "they couldn't tell me if it was a boy or a girl. I asked if I could at least say goodbye… they advised against it. After that apparently, I just kept screaming," she swallowed hard, "the nurses felt so sad for me.

"I remember before I was signed out, one of them asked if my partner was on his way to collect me. I just lied and said yes. She then said to me, 'remember you can always try again,'" she quickly cleared her throat to disguise her voice breaking, "I didn't tell my sister what happened. She pulled up outside my place, made me promise to call her later on and when I got out of the car I realised I was supposed to be getting married that day. I don't know, something inside of me finally just snapped. I don't remember much of what happened then either. One minute I was in my bathroom, and the next I was back in the hospital being told I'd suffered minor organ damage. If my sister hadn't stopped by when she did, worried why she hadn't heard from me, I probably wouldn't have survived.

"Eventually, she managed to convince them to let me leave so I could stay with her. She lives on a beautiful street, lined with cherry blossom trees. My nieces greeted me at the door excitedly, even the sky was bright blue that day. But I never felt more lost and alone than at that moment. In the end, my sister had to take six months off work to care for me, and that combined with the strongest medication my doctor could prescribe, only just helped me pull through. A year later Clare dragged me to that party and… there you were. I wanted so badly not to like you—" she finally broke down, her exhausted sobs splashing tears all over her lap. For her sake, Henry held back his own. Up to that point, he'd resisted interrupting or touching her, but he couldn't bare it any longer. He cupped her face firmly with both hands.

"Ollie, do you love me?"

"More than anything. It's why I proposed. I wanted to do everything with you—"

"Then that's all that matters—" she pushed his hands away.

"No, because we're not equals in this relationship Henry, we never have been and we never will be."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she sighed, "you could have literally anyone…" she trailed off, defeated for the moment.

"… You know, when I spoke to your sister, she told me how one night you were late back home from playing with your friends so you hadn't yet done your homework. Your father then locked you out in the back garden for the rest of the night. She said you didn't ask her or your other sister for help because you didn't want to get them in trouble too. You just stayed out there all alone, in the freezing cold. And I wondered to myself, how many times you've felt like that little girl ever since, even in this relationship—"

"Henry—"

"She told me she suspected other things happened as well, stuff she couldn't bring herself to talk about."

"You weren't supposed to know any of that!"

"Why not?!"

"Oh God…"

"Ollie please, it's okay—"

"How? How can any of this be okay?!" Her face was so distraught, his stomach sank. He rubbed his eyes.

"… This is my fault. If I hadn't been away so much, kept you closer, none of this would have happened—"

"No, please, this isn't on you—"

"I even bought you the puppy and the cottage because of how guilty I felt!"

"But the distance worked for me too! I could get attached to you but not completely. It felt safer."

"And now?"

"Now it all just… hurts." Henry grabbed her hands.

"Ollie, whatever happened before doesn't change anything. I'm here, alright? You're safe now—"

"Except I don't think I'll ever feel that way completely—"

"I'll still be here—" she flew up from the bench and started pacing, her tears flowing freely once more.

"No, no. You deserve better. Someone who's sunny, healthy… as successful as you. For fuck's sake I don't even come from a normal family. When I walked out in December, it was because I felt I had to. I will always want what's best for you and… I know that doesn't include me." He dashed forwards, clamping her shoulders to keep her still.

"Do you think when we first met, I couldn't see the pain in your eyes? I also saw the decency, the humanity - I knew you weren't playing hard to get for the sake of it in the same way I knew you'd never hurt me deliberately. Let's go to therapy together—"

"You don't have to do that—"

"But I want to! I haven't done enough and you are so worth fighting for - we are worth fighting for. I love what we have because it's real and that's so, so rare Ollie." Her head fell to her chest.

"The doctor who spoke to me earlier was a trauma therapist. I was praying they'd tell me I didn't need their help. The worst of it is, I always thought I was a strong person. What I experienced wasn't even unusual. I mean people fall out of love, lose babies, have breakdowns, every single day. And it all could have been so much worse. But it still nearly destroyed me. I just can't go through any of that again."

"… Did you give your baby a name?"

"No, no… it didn't go that far. I couldn't let it. But in my head, I still talk to her sometimes. I don't know why I imagine her as a girl, it's just what feels right. It's incredible really, she would have been no bigger than the palm of my hand but the love that you feel… the longing." Her voice caught in her throat. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't intend to tell anyone. I just thought that if I failed in her life, I could at least protect her in death—"

"You didn't fail anyone—" he quickly stopped himself and instead pulled her into his arms. "I love you, Ollie."

"I love you too."

***

Two weeks later.

"Mmm it's warm out there today, look at that sky." Henry slid the cup along the counter. Ollie glanced up briefly from her laptop and hummed. "Why don't we take our coffee outside?" To his surprise, she stood up from her chair.

"That sounds nice." Henry smiled and led her into their garden, with Kal and Copper following closely behind. What she didn't expect to see, opposite the bench that was tucked away in her favourite spot, was a newly planted cherry blossom tree. He sat her down carefully, waited for the dogs to lie down beside her, and then went to fetch something from the base of it. When Henry joined her again, he was holding what looked to be a clear container.

"I've planted this tree so that, every time you miss your daughter, you can come out here and spend some time with her." He carefully removed a small notepad and pen from the container. "And whenever you need to talk, you can write it in here, put it in the box and leave it by the tree for her." She was so overwhelmed at first she couldn't even look at him. When she did, tears spilled down her face.

"I… I don't know even know what to say… I can't thank you enough. Not just for this, but for everything—"

"You will never need to thank me, darling, ever." She chose her next words carefully.

"I know I've struggled to tell you often enough, let alone show you how much I appreciate it, but you're a good man. The best I've known. And just because she was my first," she glanced towards the tree, "it doesn't mean she has to be my last."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it might be difficult—"

"Then I'll do everything I can to make it easier."

"... You know I'd marry you right now if I could?"

"Then why don't we?"

"What?"

"Well, why not?"

"But... I'm not even dressed nicely!"

"Stop it, you've never looked more beautiful. Right, we've got the dogs as witnesses so come on," Henry gently pulled her to her feet, "let's get straight to it."

"Are you sure? Everything's already been arranged?" His heart lept at her playful smile. How he'd missed it.

"That one's for the well-wishers, this is just for us. Are you ready?" She smiled and nodded. "Good. Then I, Henry Cavill, take you, Ollie Hadden, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. I will love and honor you all the days of my life." Henry removed the promise ring from her right hand and slipped it onto her ring finger. She swallowed back her tears, smiling.

"And I, Ollie Hadden, take you, Henry Cavill, for my lawful Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. I will love and honor you all the days of my life." She then moved his promise ring to the correct hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Henry brushed the tears off his cheeks, "that's just the first time you've called me your husband." They beamed at each other and finally kissed. In the end, he didn't know how long they'd stood holding each other, but when he glanced down, she was gazing at the tree.

"When you're ready, come inside and I'll make you some lunch." Henry then kissed the top of her head and disappeared into the house with both dogs trailing after him. 

She took a seat on the bench, picked up the notebook, and wrote several lines. When she was finished, she carefully put the container back in the same spot. It was when she glanced up that she noticed small buds on the tree. Soon they'd be open and before long the garden would be strewn with blossom. She couldn't think any further ahead but for the moment she didn't need to. For once her mind had fallen silent and she was content to rejoin her husband.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

[fablesrose]

Leverage Rewrite Ch 1 - Phone Calls

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Words: 3054

Summary: We are introduced to y/n Ford and her relationship with Nate through some phone calls. Takes place directly after the Bank Shot Job and goes through most of season 1.

Warnings: drinking, swearing, canon level stuff

A/n: okay, so I may be up over my head on this one, but here it is.

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

The ringing of my phone snapped me out of my lackluster concentration. I enjoyed freelancing, I really did, but this job was just not coming along like I wanted it to. I couldn’t even drag my eyes off my laptop to see who was calling me. It was always work related though.

“This is y/n Ford, how can I help you?” I made sure to turn on my best chipper voice, though I could tell my perplexed expression didn’t change. 

“Don’t use your customer service voice on me, y/n.” The voice was very familiar and I sighed in relief, turning away from my computer. 

“Oh, hey Nate. I didn’t look at the phone, I thought it was work… How are you doing?”

“That’s alright, I’m doing fine. I saw that you called a little while ago, I’m sorry it took awhile, I was working a job.” He sounded tired, but different than the last few times I had talked to him.

“Yeah, I just hadn’t heard from you for a bit, but a job? I didn’t know you were working again. How has that been going? What are you doing?” 

It was good that he was getting out and doing things again. He had been in a deep rut since he left I.Y.S and got divorced. And of course since Sam… passed. It has only seemed to get worse after that. I have tried to check in with Nate at least every couple months, more frequently when possible. Sometimes he doesn’t get back to me for a while, which seemed to be the case here. I’ve been worried about him, but maybe this will lead him to the up and up.

“Uh, I’m not sure if I can explain what I’m doing right now, birdie. It uh, it's a bit complicated and maybe more dangerous than you would like…” He sighed, and I didn’t even have to see his face to know he was giving a slight wince at what he said. I smiled, both at hearing him call me the nickname he had given me years ago, as well as his conscientiousness of my feelings. 

“Well, I hope you can tell me about it sometime. Are you happy doing it?”

He thought about it for a minute, “yeah, I am. I get to help people.”

“Are you alone? Do you need help?”

“No, I’ve got people.”

“Then that’s good enough for me. I still worry some, but you’re a grown man, you can take care of yourself… or should I say old man?” I smirked, knowing that it would bother him a bit. 

He barked out half a laugh, “I’ll let that one go. I’m glad you worry about me… You know you’re my favorite niece right?”

It was my turn to laugh sarcastically. “I’m your only niece. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Okay.”

I set the phone down after he hung up. Nate practically raised me. My parents died when I was a kid, an accident, and he was the only family I had left… Or the best family I had left. Grandad Jimmy barely counts. Even with my parents around I was always close with Nate, he always had little puzzles to teach me or games to play. I knew it was hard on him, to take care of me, but we had each other, and it got better. We both had to grow up fast, and when Maggie and then Sam came along, it seemed like the world was giving back a little bit. We were a happy family for a while. I graduated, moved out into the real world, and tried to be to Sam what Nate was to me. It all came crashing down. Nate had his own process though. This was worse than when my parents died, understandably, but I knew he was the only one that could work himself out of it. I try to let him. 

My eyes flipped back to my computer from where they were staring at the abandoned phone on the table. I can’t afford to reminisce any longer, I have deadlines to keep.

—---

Across the country, Nate absentmindedly tapped his phone against his knee, thinking. He gingerly moved his right shoulder, trying not to test his stitches too much. The team had just finished up the bank shot job. He knew he needed to take it easy while he healed up from his gunshot wound, but he could feel a slight itch to keep going in the back of his head. To take his mind off of it, he looked back at his phone, thinking of y/n.

He did miss her. Nate knew he had been distant recently and that she worried about him. He felt awful when he thought too hard about it. Here his niece was, worrying about him, a grown man, the one who raised her, who should be worrying about her. It made him want to reach for a drink. The truth was, he didn’t worry about her. Not often anyway. She was every bit of her parents, something Nate was glad for. His older brother was always the better one, he thought. He would have never become… Never become what Nate had, under the circumstances. 

He didn’t know what y/n would think about what Nate was doing now. He didn’t want to leave her in the dark, they had always worked together through Nate’s changing careers and her own progression through life. He also knew that this work was dangerous. Nate winced as the stitches pulled a bit as he shifted. He didn’t want her to worry about him more, or worse, get caught up in it if she didn’t have to. 

Nate went to pour himself a drink before heading back to rest. He set his phone down at his bedside table, looking at it for a moment longer. 

He would find a way to tell her somehow.

—----

It was about a month later when I was getting ready for bed that I got an email to my personal account. I usually don’t check emails this late, but it was from Nate. 

Hey birdie, I know it’s late over there and you probably don’t want to work, but I have this script that I need to make sure is believable for an actress. Do you mind looking over it? 

Attached was a pretty large file. Opening it up showed that it was around ten pages and it held two scenes. He was right, I didn’t want to, but it was Uncle Nate asking a pretty small favor. I read it through and answered.

So… the scenes themselves are decent, good pacing. Leaving the boy orphaned with the nun and mother dying will be sure to pull some tears. But the overall plot? That’s just awful, I’m sorry. Not sure how you fix that. 

It wasn’t too long before I got a reply.

Good enough, thanks. 

I sighed as I finished getting ready for bed. I didn’t know what in the world he was doing anymore, but at least he was still alive. 

I had started to forget about the interaction when a few days later he called.

“Wow, I hear from you twice in one week? What’s the occasion?”

There was a lot of noise in the background indicating he was in a busy place, “Yeah yeah I just… I finished this job and was thinking about you, so I thought I’d call.”

I smiled, “Appreciated… Is that your job, fighting werewolves with NATO troops? Is that why it's so dangerous?”

He groaned, “Please don’t mention the script, I want to wipe that from my memory. It uh,” he paused, thinking and I could hear some background announcements like he was in an airport or train station. “I was able to help some orphans this job, and… I- I’m just glad that you were able to come live with me, that we had each other when. When your dad passed, and mom.”

I took a moment before answering, “Me too Nate…” 

There was a moment of silence when I heard a deeper voice a bit further away from the phone, “Nate, come on, we gotta catch our connection. Last call.”

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Okay, talk to you later.”

He said a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone. It seemed like his new job was exciting, and I was interested in seeing where it took him next… If I could ever figure out what it was. 

I started to look forward to his calls even more now, and they happened more frequently as well. I always speculated what little details he would drop about his most recent adventure, if he shared any at all. One call he talked about a wedding and the fiascos behind it, from a woman he worked with that seemed to peeve him at times to appetizers. He insisted that when I got married (after he asked if I wanted to) that he wouldn’t attend if it was going to be a large crap shoot like the one he was just involved with. I simply laughed, I didn’t interject more than that to ask him about it as he was in a rush and clearly exasperated. 

The next phone call mentioned the same woman, of whom I learned her name was Sophie. I could tell he was still a bit peeved at her, but there was something else there as well, an interest. I smiled to myself as he talked, but didn’t mention it… yet. There were so many other questions I had about what he was doing now. I finally pried a bit more.

“Nate, come on, you’ve got to give me something. What are you doing, what is this job you are working?”

He paused like he knew it was coming, but still not prepared, “I am the lead of a… consulting team. We help people when no one else will, when no one else can.”

“Well that’s very noble of you Nathan. I’m not getting any more than that right now am I?” I laughed a little bit towards the end. 

“Yeah, uh, that is it for now. I’ll tell you more about it some other time.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

The next call was not as cheerful or exciting as the previous ones. I was already coming down with a cold, and another project had hit a standstill because of the lack of cooperation of people within the client’s company. Much more of this and I would back out of the contract. Luckily my contract states that I will get paid for the work completed, not necessarily at completion, and if I have to cancel a contract due to certain circumstances such as lack of cooperation, I get to keep funds in relation to work completed as well as the deposit. In other words, it would be their loss. 

I could feel I was developing a headache, but I answered the phone anyway, “Hello?”

“Heyy, how’s it going? I um… I can’t remember why I called…” There was a slight slur in his voice that I immediately picked up on.

“Nate? Are you drunk right now?” I asked accusingly, my headache getting worse. 

“What? No… what time is it… maybe.”

I groaned, “Damn it… You said you were getting better. You said you would quit!”

“Hey, I never said that-”

“Am I gonna have to kick your ass to keep you around?”

There was a pause on the other end, “No, Eliot can do that, he said he would keep me in line if he had to.”

“Well…” I took a moment to collect my thoughts, “I don’t know who this Eliot character is, but hopefully he’s good on his word, cuz I don’t want to fly all the way out there for that. I’d rather you stick around for a while.”

“I know.”

I sighed knowing I wouldn’t get much farther with him right now, “Well, sober up a bit. I can’t handle much more right now Nate, I’m getting sick. We both better go get some rest.”

“You’re sick? I’ll ask around for some recipes to help you feel better.”

Before I could stop him and tell him don’t bother, he hung up. I sighed again, stopping to get my bearings before starting the trek to the bathroom to take some medicine. 

I had grown a bit lax on Nate with his drinking. I made sure he didn’t drink himself to death after Sam’s death and the divorce, but once he made it to somewhat functioning, I just grew tired. There wasn’t much else I could do, so I figured he could sort himself out when he needed to. That seemed to be the case over the last couple of months. I could tell in his phone calls as they became more frequent that he was drinking less and getting better. I had exaggerated a bit when I said he promised me he would quit. I wish I had made him promise, but I guess it was just a conversation and some hope on my end. 

I didn’t know the rest of his team, but I hoped they could help him, or at least keep him on this side of life. Or that he had someone to rely on out there. I felt useless here in Boston while he was out in LA. Maybe I should have moved out there when his life had gone down hill, despite his protests. I could theoretically work anywhere. 

I started to slip into sleep as I thought about it. I didn’t fight it.

The next morning I woke up to an email on my phone.

Hey, I’m sorry I called you while drunk. Eliot gave me some soup recipes, hopefully they will help with the cold. Feel better birdie.

Below were the recipes promised. I looked them over, and they all looked really good, and relatively simple to make. This was good as I could feel the congestion in my head was worse than the night before and knew simple would be essential to any new meal the next couple of days. I’d like to meet this Eliot someday. 

—---

Over a month later Nate sat in his chair, staring at the drink in his hand reflecting back to the last phone call he had with y/n. He was drunk, and she was clearly upset at him. He hated to admit it, but, while he didn’t want to worry her, he should have felt more guilty about it. For that reason he hasn’t talked to her since he sent that email with Eliot’s recipes. 

What an unfortunate coincidence it was when he had to go into rehab with the mark for the next job. His mind kept going back to the group session they had with Sophie talking about the healing power of apologies, or something like that. She asked him if there was anyone he wanted to apologize to for burdening with his drinking problem, highly suggesting to him that he apologize to her and the team. What really got him was when she mouthed the words “like your niece?” 

Maybe that’s why he blew up a little. He didn’t need her to be brought up. The fact that Sophie knew so much about him unnerved him sometimes. He thought he kept her underwraps, out of whatever mess Nate found himself in. He obviously needs to brush up on those skills.

—---

I got a somewhat urgent call from Nate, the first one since he called me drunk that night. I was gearing up for a serious talk about his drinking, boundaries, and whatnot. This did not seem to be the case. 

“You’ve done mock trials before right?”

That stopped me in my tracks, “in highschool? Yeah, but that was a long time ago, what is going on?”

He explained that he was in a similar situation with him and his team. The plaintiff was a widow whose husband died from taking an energy supplement. She was suing the supplement company, but was not doing well.

“How would you win for this widow?”

I took a moment to think it over, “I mean… You have your three persuasive techniques, logical, emotional, and reputation, to paraphrase. You can either tear down the company and their arguments on these fronts and slash or build up your own. I don’t know all the data behind the supplement or if you have health records for the husband before and after the supplement, but that could help. If you want to go the dirty route you can tear down the credibility of the company and their witnesses and experts…” I hummed and hawed for a bit, still thinking. “Also considering, if this is a jury trial, play into the emotional side, get their sympathy, show that it is someone’s fault that this husband, father? Is he a father? You know, etc etc. Just keep with the triangle, logic, emotion, and credibility. Not sure what else to give you without more research or context.”

I heard a distant voice that said, “That just might work,” suggesting to me that I was on speaker phone. 

Nate talked to this other guy, “see, just put on your bowtie and talk to them like you’ve been doing your whole life.” He turned back to the phone and spoke to me, “That’s perfect, thank you, bye.”

He hung up and I just stared at the phone in my hand. What kind of consulting business is this?

I got a call I wasn’t expecting one day from someone I haven’t heard from in a long time. 

“Hey y/n, how have you been?”

“Maggie? I’ve been fine, just working freelancing… What’s up?” While she and Nate have been divorced for a couple of years now, she still played a role in my life as an aunt. We definitely drifted apart, but I thought we were both dear to each other. 

“That’s good, I’m glad you’ve been doing okay. I do have a favor to ask you though.”

“Okay… What is it?”

“I’d imagine it’s been a while since either of us have gone to a fancy party… What do you say?”

I hated to say it, but she was right. “Tell me when and where.”

[phenomenalgirl9]

Soobin x Reader: MIA

Summary: You have been MIA for a few days and Soobin is worried.

Pairings: Soobin x Reader

Genre: Supernatural au, Fluff, 13+

Warnings: Talk of allergies (rashes), Insecurities and Quasimodo.

W/c: 662

A/n: I had some ugly rashes recently and I hate them and was being dramatic, this is my delulu brain's cooking in that situation.

----------------------------------------------------

Soobin: You’re doing it again… -What? Soobin: Pulling away. What’s up? -Nothing Soob.

I stared at the screen, the typing bubble came up and went down a couple of times, Nothing. So, he believed it, May be.

Soobin and you have been dating for a couple of years, he knows you very well, too well at times. His Idol image never altered the way he is with you.

----------------------------------------------------

3 years ago

“Is this seat taken?” the guy asked, he seemed kinda cute. You looked around to see that this chair was the only vacant seat at the café. “Sure” you said and went back to the tab to complete your illustration.

“You must be an artist” You heard the boy say, you looked up and nodded, fixing your glasses. “I don’t mean to pry but I have seen you here a couple of times” he added. “Yeah, I am kind of an artist. I freelance and do commissions as well and sometimes I do some random stuff for my own” you said and smiled at the cute stranger who seemed to be interested in you to strike up conversations.

“So, are you like a content creator?” He asked and that’s how it all started you, he followed you on your social media, he commented on a few of your pieces and then it went on to dms and chats.

You were always a bit insecure so opening up to him was a bit difficult, not to say the first time you got to know what he does for a living, you were taken aback. It was Soobin, he dragged you out of your shell.

----------------------------------------------------

So, Soobin knows that you have certain phases when you recede back into the shell and it gets difficult, and he is always beside you during those times.

But this time things were different, even he knew it, God even you knew it was silly but you couldn’t help it. You had cancelled on him thrice in the last week, the one time he asked to visit you, you made a dumb excuse of your cousin visiting you, and even your Security guard (Yes, Soobin greets them every time he walks in so he knows them) told him that you haven’t left the house in a week.

You heard a knock on the door and thought that your delivery has arrived so you got prepared and opened the door to see your tall, cute boyfriend standing at the doorway. “Are you sick?” was the first thing he asked and you shook your head. “Y/n? Why are you wearing a mask indoors? You don’t even wear one outside” he said, and tried to grab it, but you moved away and he followed you inside and shut the door.

“Babe~” he whined “take that off” he said and finally grabbed you, trapping you between his tall built and one arm and taking the mask of with the other. You pushed him away turning around. “Please Soobin I look hideous” you said.

“Hey! You can never be hideous! What’s wrong” He asked again and grabbed your shoulders. “Move your hand” he said, and you finally did.

“What?” he asked scanning your face. “Did you get an allergy?” he asked. “Yeah and the rashes look hideous” you whined, covering your face again.

“No, you don’t” He said “Even if you did, I’d still love you” he said hugging you.

“What if they don’t go away and I end up like Quasimodo” you whined against him. He giggled, gosh he’s so cute.

“I think that’s a bit stretch and I’d still love you okay!” He said, patting your head.

“Even if I looked like Quasimodo?” you asked looking up at him.

“Even if you looked like Quasimodo” he said kissing your temples. “But, did you see a doctor though?” he suddenly remembered.

“Yeah, I did, the medicines are going on” you said.

“It’ll get better” he said caressing your head, as you snug closer.

----------------------------------------------------

Masterlist

My Networks: @kvanity-main @sandsofire

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Wibta if I asked my cousin for money for my mixer rather then giving it to her?

Back story: A few years ago, my nan moved in with me and my parents because she wasn't able to live alone anymore and needed a lot of care. (largely from me if I'm honest because my parents have full time jobs and I'm a freelancer.)

A lot of her stuff from her house got stored in our garage when she moved in because she didn't want to get rid of perfectly usable stuff. And it actually came in handy a few times. Like our microwave broke and we had a spare one in the garage. I got to replace a TV in my bedroom (one of those super old ones from 2005) with a better one because we already had a TV in our lounge.

Nan died earlier this year and we went through the items in the garage to see if the family wanted them. One uncle took the soda stream, another took the airfryer. But there were loads of things that no one said they wanted at the time, including the mixer. And I chose to keep quite a few items because I was hoping to move out in the next couple of years.

Fast forward to today, my cousin is considering getting a mixer from the same brand as our nan's mixer and my mum suggested my cousin borrow the mixer from me first to try it out and see how she likes it.

That was all fine.

But I'm considering that I might not need the mixer. I don't bake as much as my cousin and while I live at home, I can use my mum's mixer. The mixer also doesn't have any sentimental value because, although it's my nan's, she only bought it a couple of months before she moved in with us, so it's not like I grew up baking with her using this specific mixer. And I thought... Oh, I could sell it to her. I make a small bit of money and she gets one cheaper.

But then I thought it might be an asshole move to charge her money for a mixer that belonged to our nan. Especially, when I do already have quite a few items from nan and I wouldn't use it as much. Plus, she's in a worse financial situation than me.

She didn't say she wanted it when we were sorting out the garage but I can't say for sure if I'd claimed it first.

And also, she wasn't caring for nan throughout the pandemic, so I don't feel bad about taking more items than the other members of the family. Like, I did get some furniture/appliances but I also did a lot of caring for nan.

What are these acronyms?

[daydreamgoddess14]

Salvation pt. 2

Full Masterlist

Roy Kent Masterlist

Roy Kent / Reader - general rating for now... set to increase 😏

Meet the woman who stole Roy Kent's watch...

~~~~~~~

You'd left your phone. Why not add to a bad day. You'd just have to go out and just buy another - forget WhatsApp messages, photos and emails - you could access everything you needed from the cloud. The true meaning of the words ‘first world problems’ is when you could replace one gadget with another and not bat an eyelid. It certainly wouldn't have been possible three years ago when you had barely enough for a cup of coffee to your name. The phone might be replaceable, but your mornings 'work' wasn't. You looked at your notes, helpfully, the only thing you'd written were the words 'Roy Kent'. Well, obviously. He'd always had that effect on you. You'd realised as soon as you got home, toyed with collecting it on the way to work the next morning and ultimately buried your head in the sand. 

"Alright matey? Did you get a soundbite yesterday? I need to get something on the website pretty sharpish." Sammy throws you a round of toast wrapped in foil. 

"Uhhh…"

"Oh no, you didn't meet a fit footballer, did you? Rendered you speechless?"

"No! No. I left my phone Sam, sorry." He looked blankly at you,

"So? You didn't think to go back for it yesterday? Or even this morning?"

"No. Yes. It’s complicated, you know how I did you a huge favour? You could do one for me in return?" You pleaded.

"... You did me a favour? I asked you to pop to the Richmond presser, and you came back with nothing. You came back with less than you actually went with? Also, I'm your boss. It's not a favour when I ask you to do something -"

"I'm sorry, Sammy, I'm so sorry, I'll make it up to you. I'll do all the obits for a month?” He looks exasperated, “three months?" He’s right to be disappointed, you've let him down. You can hear it in the frustration in his voice. You know you need to go and get the phone yourself, and quickly, it's the only way. You grab your keys from the desk and rise from your swivel chair. "I'll go now, I'll only be 20 minutes. I've written most of the copy, we just need to add a couple of quotes." Sammy grunts in acknowledgement. 

"Bring back some chocolate."

"Sammy Dhillon you and I both know that Nia would kill me if I did that, and no offence, but your wife is scarier than you." You might be on thin ice with your boss, but he couldn't fight you on the truth and gave you the finger as you headed for the exit. You'd been at the Richmond Gazette for three years, it was a tiny local paper run by a very small team. You mostly took care of the office admin while Sammy and a couple of other freelance journalists did the rest, but with only a couple of you in the office full time, it was easy and natural for him to rely on you. He’d very much taken a chance on you when you’d been at your lowest point and you were eternally grateful to him and his wife.

When you got to the home of the Richmond team, it was pretty deserted. Barely 8.30am, you suddenly realised that their working day probably wasn’t the usual 8-5. You hovered by the doors you’d escaped from the previous day, wondering what to do next. You couldn’t go back to the office empty handed. Sammy would ban you from the weekly family dinner for the rest of your life.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Fucking shit.”

“Nice to know your language has improved.” The gruff voice behind you said in greeting. Shit indeed.

“I left my phone yesterday,” you turn to face him at last with your arms crossed securely over your body, braced for impact.

“Yeah. That tends to fucking happen when you run away, forgetting things. Phones, boyfriends, whole fucking lives.” There we go, shots fired, no time wasted.

“Can I just get my phone please, we want to get the article on the website this morning.”

“Bit slow? The others had theirs posted yesterday.” “My boss had an appointment yesterday. Besides, no one reads the fucking Richmond Gazette anyway. No one’s waiting for us to drop a scoop.” He takes your phone from his pocket,

“Don’t worry, I didn’t hack it. And I doubt I'd get the same as a Rolex for it, so there’s no point in selling it.” You have to hold your hand out for the phone, he’s still holding it back. 

“I… I’m sorry, alright? I made a mistake -”

“Pretty big fucking mistake.” There are other cars starting to arrive, people giving you both odd glances as they pass by on their way into the building. 

“You came back! Thought we’d have to go all detective and try to work out which paper you were from!” Keeley comes up brightly behind Roy.

“I knew where she was from, Sammy was the only one missing yesterday,” Roy explained.

“Is he ok?” Keeley asks, noting with a frown that Roy seems to be holding your phone hostage, she takes it from his grip and passes it to you.

“Oh he’s fine, his wife is pregnant. They had a few appointments yesterday afternoon and our freelancers were off somewhere else,” you take the phone with a small smile, “thank you.” Roy is still looking at you intently, “I’m gonna get back then. Need to buy Sam some chocolate to apologise.” 

“You do know how to do that, then?” He asks, a cruel undertone to his voice. Keeley noticeably elbows him in the ribs.

“It was nice to meet you, maybe I’ll see you again.” She gives Roy a glare of warning and breezes past you.

“Look, I didn’t mean to just turn back up. I’ve avoided this place for years, but Sam and his family have been good to me, I couldn’t just say no without reason when he asked me to cover yesterday.”

“Why?” He asks quietly, “that’s all I want to know.” He sounds anguished, even after all this time. You want to tell him, you want to pour your heart out and explain the reasons for your actions and apologise, really apologise, but it all feels like too much and not enough all at the same time. 

“It’s a long story. I never meant to hurt you.” You toy with the strap on your bag.

“I’d have given you everything. Anything, you only had to ask.” You nod sadly,

“I know. It was so complicated and… I needed to protect you.” You go to pass him, pausing briefly once you’re shoulder to shoulder, “ I have to go, I really am sorry, Roy. Congratulations on the coaching job.”

“Protect me from fucking who?” He calls out as you reach your car.

“Me. All the shit that follows me.” You tell him with a shrug and once again leave him confused.

You get beeped again at the same set of traffic lights.

By the time you’re dropping a chocolate bar on Sam’s desk, he’s positively giddy.

“It’s only a Twix, don’t get too excited. And do not tell Nia.” You warn.

“Had a call while you were out,” your eyebrows raise and you motion with your hands for him to continue. “In the spirit of this whole shared ownership thing, Rebecca Welton has offered the club up to be interviewed by us.”

“A local interview for local people.” You joke in your creepiest League of Gentlemen impression.

“Exactly! An exclusive that we can sell on to the bigger papers and make a bit of money!” You can’t help but smile at that. You know it keeps Sam up at night, trying to keep such a local paper in circulation, trying to keep you both in a job. The little wins are huge wins, really. 

“Congratulations Sammy. Do you want me to book it into Graham’s diary?”

“No you daft sod, I want you to come with me.”

“Sam, I am not a journalist. I’m barely a fucking receptionist.”

“You’re my protege and my assistant. And I don’t want Graham leaking bits to the Daily Mail and spoiling our fun. So get your replica Roy Kent shirt out, we’re off to Nelson Road!”

So much for avoiding the place.

~~~~~~