#i’m always like ok i’ll just check for spelling/grammar errors

[feartheoldblog]

does anyone else reread anons like 1837281 times before they send them incase they’ve told the person to fuck off and that they look like they think the kirkhammer is a good weapon

[bluegumballmf]

OK SO RANT WARNING I LOVE ADAMAI

ngl i think about adamai so much like literally almost half of the time im thinking abt him so um i just wanna talk about my personal headcanons for him bc i rlly rlly like him he’s genuinely such an easy character to relate to for me because i relate to his trauma. Anyways, forgive me if you catch any spelling or grammar errors, i’m writing this with like 4 hours of sleep and dyslexia.

um so my main mental health hcs are that he has BPD, ADD (lololol fits with the name) and minor psychosis. For ADD, it’s moreseo that from what i’ve seen, adamai struggles in social cues and has a more quiet approach to his struggles, and that he acts similarly to me, and I am autistic. For psychosis, it’s sort of a baseless headcanon, I just feel like Adamai would get auditory/ tactile hallucinations.

It’s a little hard to explain why i think he has BPD cause it’s moreso things I can relate to, such as how he latches onto people rlly quick ; ie a BPD person’s “favorite person,” who is a support system and a sort of pillar/ anchor and typically end up being someone the person w/ BPD sometimes ends up changing themself for. I personally think that adamai’s had multiple favorite people, such as; grougal, qilby, phaeris, echo and oropo, and obviously, yugo. Its kinda hard for me to like. Phrase WHY i think these people are his fps, but i think it’s mostly how he values them and prioritizes them when it comes to his actions and thoughts and feelings, i mean, just take oropo for example. Adamai changed his entire body for oropo, taking the dofus in when he was still rlly young for eliatrope/dragon standards, even assuming a body he didn’t want to survive, which even then, he only did for approval and support from his FP. This actually leads me into my next headcanon,

I headcanon adamai as transfem. Specifically a trans woman. For a few reasons, which I’ve gone over in a twitter thread (same username as on here, you should go check it out, I’m WAY more active there haha) but i’ll put it here.

1. adamai doesnt feel comfortable in his body and it’s elaborated on in the show. When he’s talking to eliatrope about his body, eliatrope states that he’s “always been unique” and iirc you can see adamai’s face drop because its not exactly something he’s proud of.

2: going off the last point, he’s shown to say that the body he now has in wakfu s3-4 is one he had to adapt to survive and not the one he chose, which is parallel to some trans people never transitioning because they dont feel safe enough to do so. this is kind of a stretch but bear with me, it’s more subconcious connections than anything else.

3. (More of a joke point) BUT HE LITERALLY HAS THE SAME WAIST SIZE AS JESSICA RABBIT. WHAT. YES I’VE ACTUALLY COMPARED I AM NOT JOKING. Like here are the images (see below) for comparison. In all seriousness, while i feel like adamai’s design IS iconic and it does serve the purpose it meant to acheive, it doesn’t feel like him. Which again, is what it meant to acheive!! I’ll touch on this more in a second, but not.

4: adamai has multiple issues regarding self perception, which in a way are all similar to dysphoria. He seems to have rejection dysphoria, body dysphoria, and maybe gender dysphoria. In my view, he seems to have all three subtypes of gender dysphoria (body, mind, and social) this actually ties in to the first point, because i feel like he’d develop a sort of body dysmorphia from shifting into a body he didn’t want, rather then a body that would be more comfortable for him; the human or the dragon. Which i’m choosing to see as a representation of the two genders; with him shifting in between being a sort of safe spot, like how many trans people identify as nonbinary or bigender before transition. (Not to say that these people are any less trans then any others, i’m just going off my own perception as a trans genderfluid person!!!)

5: he’s always being forced into roles; from being raised for yugo, to being yugo’s mentor, to being grougal’s nanny, to being possessed, etc. Ad never has chances to choose any roles by himself, and it’s similar to transphobic parents stopping their trans kid from expressing themselves imo. Again, could be a stretch, but this is how i interpreted it. It’s actually kind of similar to my parents, so maybe that’s why. Though, this COULD also just be gifted kid burnout or autistic burnout OR strict parent parallels, which i also can see correspond with adamai.

6: His mental image and self worth.

Adamai’s character is heavily influenced by a lack of self worth. He measures it with other people’s perceptions of him such as oropo’s or grougal’s, and when his body is perceived negatively by himself/others, he also starts hating it and himself, which ties into the headcanon i had about him having body dysmorphia AND into the BPD favorite people!!!

7: ( sounds like a joke point but bear w me) estrogen could have saved him

And honestly, no, Im not joking. Imo, if Adamai was allowed access to an actual process to be able to feel comfortable in his own skin, it might help his mental illnesses a lot in the long run. I equate that to him getting estrogen + finally looking like himself. It could help him with the body dysmorphia and self esteem by helping him get to a place where he’s comfortable to be himself and maybe even shapeshift again. (I actually wrote a fic about this on Ao3, https://archiveofourown.org/works/55070686, if you want to read it!!)

But um yeah, thats my reasoning for the trans headcanons, onto the less mental health involved ones, more miscellaneous. (But if you’re wondering why i’m using ‘male’ pronouns on Adamai, it’s because i feel like he would still like the he/him pronouns, but would simply use she/her more post transition.)

So, i have a few, mainly for adamai during winter vs summer.

In winter,

Silverish hair to blend with the snow

hair puffs up slightly to provide more insulation

lighter pigmentation everywhere,

much sleepier, tends to nap in the snow often

And then in the summer,

Blonde hair

more pigmentation

hair is less puffy, just curly (similar to chibi’s hair!!!)

less sleepier and more energetic.

Those are the basic ones for the seasons, but i also headcanon adamai to be an ice dragon, which means his tempurature is MUCH lower then the rest of the council’s save for maybe efrim. He needs to be in the sun much more, which could be part of the reason why grougal chose oma island to raise adamai. Another headcanon is that adamai and yugo both have heterochromia!! Yugo has central heterochromia, and Adamai has sectoral heterochromia; his eyes being blue and brown. I also headcanon that he has face markings similar to his mother, but they disappear in his dragon form because he’s closer to his father then.

Um yeah, that’s kind of it for right now, i might add onto these if more come up, but i hope you enjoyed reading!! I rwally love adamai, especially in s3 and up, he’s one of the most well written traumatized character’s i’ve seen, and i ADORE the nuance behind him.

[plague-of-insomnia]

Hey apologies for the random ask but I’ve been seeing the tag “no beta we die like men” for so long now & ur tags reminded me that after like 6 years I still have no idea what a beta writer does? I think your an excellent writer & I know you’ve had beta writers before so I was wondering if you could explain what it is? Sorry if it seems like I’m using u as Google but Google isn’t great for explaining fandom things 🙃

Hope you’re well xx

Hi, anon, well, a beta writer in the simplest terms is essentially a buddy who reads your work and gives you feedback. They can be different things to different people.

For example, especially in fandom, some might simply want the reader to look for grammar or spelling errors. Others may want a simple overall vibe check (like, is it flowing OK, does this scene fit here or should I cut it) kind of deal. Some may want someone who’s native in the language they’re writing in to check it over (if they’re not a native speaker themselves).

Traditionally, especially in the publishing realm, a beta writer is someone you trust to tear your story to shreds and help you see where it needs to be fixed or reworked.

For example, when I was working on my published novel, I had an older friend I trusted read it and asked her to be brutally honest about it, including any major flaws. I wanted an outside opinion because sometimes you can get too close and can’t see the forest for the trees, which is why having another set of eyes can be so helpful.

Another reason you might want a beta reader (and I’ve done this too with my novel) is to have an “expert” read it to help ensure you properly incorporated a particular thing in the work.

For example, let’s say you’re writing a story about lawyers but you don’t know anything about the legal system in the country where the story takes place, or you know a little but not enough. Having a lawyer or someone like that read your work can help you get that aspect right.

So TL;DR, again, a beta reader is just someone who reads the story and gives the author feedback to improve it. It can be a range of things, and you can have multiple beta readers for different purposes.

But many fan fic writers don’t use them bc they’re just having fun and don’t care if the story has flaws. And that’s fine!

I use a beta reader sometimes for my fan fic but not always. Most often for fan fic, I want to know if the scenes flow and make sense since I tend to write out of order and want to be sure there are transitions so the reader won’t be lost. So usually I want more of a “vibe check” kind of deal.

I’ll admit WDH is the one fan fic I treat most like published work in the sense that I extensively plan each chapter and often do multiple drafts before I publish. My other work I often only do 1-2 drafts and many I don’t use a beta reader with. I do for Synch, again mostly for the vibe check.

I hope that answered your question, but if not, feel free to send another ask.

[brianwashere]

Ok so since I’m now officially a “writer” I should throw out my ask boundaries and stuff for tumblr

⚠️I ONLY WRITE MALE OR GN READERS⚠️

**DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY FANFIC ON ANY SIGHT FOR ANY REASON**

I won’t do

Piss

Feces

Incest

Underage

Real people

Female reader (I don’t feel comfortable portraying female reader relationship, wlw/nblw I’m fine with doing romantically, but not smut. I do queer relationships because there aren’t enough)

Feet (I’ve had to turn down a request bcc of this before…)

Toxic relationship as the focal point (i.e. if its “reader ran from toxic ex and love interest comforts him” then I’m 100% good with that)

On the fence about yandere (leaning more towards no), but always ask and I’ll see if I’m comfortable writing it!

Song fics

OCs

EDs

Fat fetish (the fact that I have to specify this)

Kylo Ren (he’s greasy and cringe)

Some BDSM (i.e. full spandex/leather, things like that, if you’re unsure just ask me 😊)

Jen x Matt (I’ll do them separately but I don’t like the ship)

What I will do

NSFW

Ships

Male reader

Gn reader

Kinks

Fluff

Hurt/comfort

Angst ( though I’m not good at it )

Found family

Sibling/parental/family relationships **ALL PLATONIC**

Polyamory

Tourette’s reader/reader with tics

Sensory issues

HCs

Neurodivergent reader

Possessive (if it isn’t toxic)

*if you’re confused or have a question just ask*

**all readers will be assumed as male unless specified otherwise**

Fandoms I write for:

(alphabetical order; check whole list before ruling out fandom, I sometimes separate different series from whole such as saying “Star Wars” then listing “Andor” and “The Mandalorian” as something different

Andor

Be more chill

Black Adam

Camp camp

COD (mwii)

Creepy pasta

DC

Daredevil

Dear even Hansen

Detroit become human

Dream smp

Fnaf: Security Breach

Good omens

HLVRAI

Hannibal

Heathers

Heroes of Olympus

House MD

Inside job

Magnus chase

Marble hornets

Marvel

My hero academia

Newsies

Night at the Museum

Obi-wan

Our flag means death

Overwatch

ROTTMNT

Slashers

Spiderverse

Star Trek

Star Wars

Stranger things

Supernatural

Team Fortress 2

The Bad Batch

The Batman/Batfam

The Witcher

The arcana

The book of boba Fett

The lost boys

The mandalorian

The umbrella academy

Transformers (bayverse and prime)

Undertale

Voltron

Werewolf by night

Alrighty if anyone has questions please reach out! I’m all for constructive criticism and correction on spelling/grammar errors. Suggestions are also welcome!

[pigeonp0st]

Hi :,) love your fics so so much and I have so many requests so you’ll be hearin from me a bit as long as your requests are open lol! Hope that’s ok❤️ I was wondering if you could write a Nat x reader fic where reader was kidnapped by hydra and tortured and the team finds her and bring her back to the tower but she’s different now she has powers and is extremely mentally scarred?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #7

Words: 2,565

Warnings: Depression, trauma

Notes:

Thank you! I don’t mind at all, thank you for requesting and wanting to in the first place. I think this is my longest fic? Or at least one of...I did it fairly quickly though so sorry for any spelling mistakes and grammar errors.

———

Natasha is scared.

She is more scared than she has possibly ever been, and she’s reckless, and she’s determined, and she’s stupid.

But she finds you. She saves you, and everything else she’s come to regret about the ways she did it, and the way she handled it, doesn’t matter.

She pushes open about the fifteenth door she’s looked through and she sees you, trapped and bloody but alive, tied to a chair, and she’s so full of relief and happiness she doesn’t notice the new haunted look in your eyes.

She rushes towards you, feet pounding on concrete and uncaring of how loud she’s being, and feels tears rush to her eyes.

You’re okay. She saved you.

——-

Natasha is the last person to realize you’re not okay, but perhaps she’s the first to realize the depths of that truth.

She watches you, for the hundredth time since you returned two days ago, and the first ‘wrong’ thing she notices is the way your hand shakes around the spoon you’re eating with.

Then, a couple of hours later she realizes that you’ve hardly spoken.

She hates herself for not noticing sooner, but she has now so she tries to say something, not just about this but about all of the pieces of the broken image Natasha hadn’t allowed herself to see in the relief that she had felt after she had found you.

You’ve always been open and honest with her and she hadn’t thought there’d be a reason for that to change now, but when she asks and reaches out for you you jerk away so fast you almost fall off the bed.

“Don’t touch me, Natasha.”

You growl it out so venomously Natasha is momentary struck frozen. She wonders in the second before you speak again if she has done something wrong.

Then, you release a shaky sad breath and lower your head. “I’m...i’m sorry.”

Natasha says nothing, and so you leave.

—-

“Y/N...she’s not here.”

The mug of coffee Natasha’s holding drops from her hand and shatters violently on the ground. The room is deathly silent, with nothing but the beep from the finished microwave to fill the quiet, and Natasha see’s nothing but you tied and bloodied in the hydra base and hears nothing but the quiet and broken way you had told her you were a “monster now.”

And then she feels nothing but sorrow because this is her fault. She made you pull away, Natasha made you need space from the compound (she asked too many questions again earlier), but she also can’t let you have it.

She is scared again, and she hates how it’s becoming a regular feeling. She’s afraid you're going to get hurt again, so she can’t let you go. Not without her. Not yet.

“I’ll find her,” Natasha grits out, abandoning the glass on the floor and rushing to grab her keys from the kitchen cabinet. “If I don’t in an hour or two i’ll call so you guys can—” Natasha pauses, feeling stupid, “did you...did you call...or text?”

Wanda nods slowly, eyebrows furrowed together. “She answered.”

Everyone waits for Wanda to repeat what you had told her but she doesn’t. Not for a long enough moment that Natasha just considers leaving anyways.

It’s dark out, and it’s thundering, and you didn’t tell anyone you were leaving, so she’s worried. Natasha is worried.

“She said that she needed to escape for a couple of hours, to not come after her, to tell Natasha that she was still breathing.��

A pause. Natasha sets her keys back down.

“She said she was lost, and that she was tired.”

“Lost?” Natasha repeats, her heart stopping for a moment and then leaping into her throat.

“Mentally,” Wanda clarifies, huffing out a sigh.

But you said that you don’t want her to come looking for you, so with all of the will power Natasha can summon she stays, and she waits for you to come home.

——-

Lost, you had told Wanda, but can you be lost when you don’t even remember what you’re searching for anymore. When you don’t remember what it was like to feel ‘home.’

The rain pounds hard on your back, it soaks you wet and makes your clothes stick to your skin the way it did when they were soaked with blood, and it drowns out every noise that isn’t the beat of your heart and the downpour of rain

Hydra had experimented on you and tortured you, and you came out with nothing left of the old you and flames on your hand.

They gave you the power to control fire, to summon fire, to be resistant to it.

That’s what they gave but they took too much more.

The fire you’re supposed to master feels like it’s in you, like it’s burning you away bit by bit and leaving nothing but ashes in its wake, and you’re trying. You tried so hard. You tried to put it out, to stop the change, to reverse it, but you can’t. You can’t so you continue to burn and okay—that was manageable—but it wasn’t supposed to burn Natasha.

It wasn’t supposed to burn your friends.

They look at you now and they see it, Natasha is starting to see it, and you know, you know, you know, they can never love this new you. They will only ache for the loss of the past you—and you never meant to hurt them with change.

There is nothing you can do. All feels lost and hopeless, and you're helpless, so you sit in the rain and shiver with the cold seeping into your skin, and for the first time since you were kidnapped your heart and mind releases itself from the burden of its suffering.

For a moment, looking up at the sky, you’re the old you.

At peace.

——-

You walk into the living room, soaked and dripping water everywhere, and you see Natasha curled up on the couch sleeping.

It stops you in your tracks and has you looking around to check if anyone is there and then moving to crouch by her side to study her.

Even though it feels like every bit of you has changed the love you have for Natasha and the others is still the same. You hadn’t taken time to realize it but it’s such a great relief that you almost release a sob before you manage to bite it down.

The love you have for them is the same, they’re the same, the compound is the same.

As you think about the compound you glance around to see if it truly is the way it was and then you spot a shattered glass mug left on the floor.

It’s Nat’s favorite mug, you realize with a bit of sadness on her behalf.

It isn’t broken too terribly…it’s still recognizable, perhaps it can be pieced back together…

Like you. Maybe. If you still love the way you had, if you still have the memories that you had, maybe it’s enough to make your pieces recognizable enough to be pieced back together.

Or maybe it’s storming outside, and you're soaked to the bone feeling too poetic.

Thunder strikes outside and you jump so violently from both the sound and the images that flash through your head that you almost wake up Natasha.

God, you’re still so pathetic.

With an agonized sigh you push yourself up right again and try to remember where the Avengers keep the super glue.

——

Natasha wakes up slowly then abruptly when she remembers that you’re missing. Fuck, had you not come home last night, Nat wonders, are you hurt, did something happen—

“Y/N fixed your mug,” Clinton says from besides her on the couch, gesturing to the mug on the coffee table. Natasha settles back down. “She said that it probably can’t hold liquid in it anymore, but that if you want to test it and it breaks she’ll fix it again.”

“Where is she?” Natasha asks, ignoring the surge of warmth in her chest in favor of her worry. “Did she look okay?”

“In her room,” he answers, then winces, “or yours.”

“How is she?” Natasha repeats.

Clint thinks about it for a moment. “Physically? I think she’s coming down with a fever. Apparently she was out there in the rain for hours,” He sighs, running a hand through his short hair, “emotionally—”

But Natasha doesn’t let him finish before she’s jumping off the couch and rushing towards your room. You don’t go to hers anymore so when she doesn’t find you in yours she worries that you’ve run again...this time she really can’t let you go. Not while you’re sick.

She can’t—

There’s a note on your bed.

“Stop worrying. I’m in your bed...it’s more comfortable than mine.”

She wishes she could hate how much you know her.

———

When Natasha enters her room it’s to the sound of your raspy coughs and then an out of breath; “i’ve been expecting you.”

Natasha laughs unexpectedly and shakes her head at your ridiculousness. “You’re lighter than usual, despite circumstances,” she says quietly after her laughter dies down.

“Usual,” you repeat, the light in your eyes darkening in an instant. “Usual meaning the past week? Is my...is this me your new normal?”

Natasha doesn’t know what to say, and it seems to make you frustrated.

“You should expect more,” you tell her bitterly, “you should ask for more. You deserve more.”

Natasha steps forward and you physically jolt back. She stops. “You got tortured. What did they do to you?”

You shake your head, once, twice, “stop talking Nat. Stop.”

“You asked me to ask for more. You said I should.”

“I meant other things!” You shout angrily, fire in your eyes. Literally. “I meant you should expect more care, you deserve more than me avoiding you, you—”

“I just want to understand,” Natasha whispers, her shoulders dropping. “I don’t care about anything else, I don’t care if you need to avoid me to deal with things by yourself, but I feel like...like I'm lost too. Like I don’t understand the person I've always understood.”

“Natasha, I'm not ready for you to know me,” you whisper, the weight of her words and your sorrow wrapped around your throat and squeezing out secrets you’d rather keep in.

“You’re not a different person.”

“Yes I am.”

“Hold out your hand.”

You blink at her in shock and confusion but do as you're told. Natasha moves towards you, strides towards you, and you try not to wince, you try not to let the sound of her footsteps bring you to places you’d rather not be.

Her hand reaches for you, you close your eyes—expecting pain because it’s all you ever knew in your haunting week with Hydra—and when you open them again it’s because Natasha has interlaced your fingers.

Her hand...her hand looks the same against yours. It feels the same. She’s touched you since you’ve been back but you were too busy trying not to move away to remember that this used to be the only thing you wanted back when she was just a crush. To hold her hand...then when she became your girlfriend it was a comfort that you thought you’d always seek.

“Is your favorite color still the same?” Natasha asks, voice strong and almost as intense as her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Is your favorite song the same, is your favorite movie the same, is your—”

“All of those things don’t make me who I am,” you stutter, unable to hold her eyes. Where Natasha is strong you are weak. Her strength is the sun, and yours is just a dying light bulb.

“They’re small but they matter,” Natasha insists, looking at you so softly you wonder what she sees.

“Are you still trying?” She asks quietly, “do you still care too much?”

“Yes.”

“You’re in pain,” Natasha notes, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and despising the world for the things it’s done to you when you wince. “You’re scared, traumatized, you leave the room when people are being too loud, you constantly look around, you don’t like people being too close,” she stops, tilting her head. “Care to add?”

“I’m...tired. I don’t even want to get up in the morning for fear of what I'll face through the day—just while doing mundane things. I'm so weak it makes me furious.”

Natasha nods, closing her eyes, “you need to run sometimes, you try so hard to look okay around the others sometimes your jaw physically shakes with the effort, you’re hesitant in everything you do now—”

“Okay.” You cut her off, words shaky. “I get it.”

“I love you. Not loved. I love you. I loved you two weeks ago, before all of this, and I love you in this second just the same,” she cups your cheek and you don’t wince. “I hurt for you. I want to know what you’ve been through, I want you to open up to me, but you’re still Y/N, aren’t you? You’re still the woman I fell in love with.”

“Why are you so sure of that?” You ask, eyes watering.

“You fixed my mug,” Natasha says, breathing out a short huff of laughter. “Thank you.”

“You loved it, Nat.”

“You hated it.”

And okay. “I need time,” you whisper, “time to process and then slowly maybe I can…maybe I can heal.”

With all of the certainty in the world Natasha says; “you will”, and you believe her. “And if you need time then you have it.” She moves to step back, to drop her hand, but you don’t let her.

You grasp her hand where it is on your cheek and with your eyes you beg her to stay, and then you do with your voice too; “not from you. Just please don’t ask me questions about what happened yet. Can we just…” you sigh, glancing down. “Can we just exist together?”

Natasha looks at you, really looks at you, and she sees how vulnerable you are in this moment, how strong, She sees it in the way your hand shakes against her, in the way—

“Say something,” you beg, exasperated, “please.”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha says, chuckling at the glare you give her. “I just love you so much sometimes I need a moment,” and then, she says, easily like there is no other option, like she would want nothing else, “Of course i’ll stay.”

And the sorrow wrapped around your throat like a rope only getting tighter, and the trauma burning away at your insides like an imperishable flame, and the anxiety like boulders on your shoulder only keeping you down, it all goes away.

For a moment, you suspect, just like when you were outside in the rain, but the fact that you can feel this way here, with another person in the room this close to you, with nothing there to drown everything out, it gives you hope.

It’s the first time you’ve seen the light in the darkness, but you think that maybe it was always there.

“Thank you, Natasha. For everything.”

She smiles, softly and full of love. “Thank you for everything, too,” and what she’s really saying is; “thank you for giving me you.”

——

For Part 2 click here

(Takes place about a month later)

[shinechermont]

This is a nightmare

A few hours after ccino's condition was discovered, Nightmare returned and the two had a big fight.

Nightmare didn't want kids, that was pretty clear during the fight. He also didn't want to form a family as this could make him deviate from his plan to suck all the positivity out of the multiverse. He suggested ccino get rid of souling, however, this caused the small skeleton to begin to show signs of pure irritation. He didn't know what he was going to do about the child, but get rid of them? That was against the ethics of the little skeleton.

The guardian had noticed Ccino's anger and threw him away. To the other side of the coffee maker.

"STAY WITH THEM," the guardian screamed, "BUT I SWEAR I'LL COME BACK HERE TO END YOUR PATHETIC LIVES!"

So Nightmare's gone. And he didn't come back.

Ccino tried to contact the guardian, but his attempts failed. It looked like he was missing from the map.

Nightmare did not cite a breakup during the fight, but the small skeleton assumed that the two were no longer together.

All this further aggravated the depression of the coffee boy. He missed the guardian and didn't want to have to take care of a child alone.

After the fight, Ccino was left without opening his shop for two weeks, but when he realized he would not have enough money to take care of himself, he reopened the place.

The little skeleton tried to keep his posture cheerful and cute in front of the customers, but even then they managed to notice that something was wrong.

"Are you okay?", "Did something happen?" and even "Do you need help?" were the most frequently asked questions of customers. Ccino always lied that he was fine, kept his smile and went to the next table.

But as if everything wasn't bad enough, something that was about to come would make things worse.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It had been a few months after the discovery of his pregnancy and again, Ccino was in a clinic for a check-up.

The feeling that he couldn't be a good father accompanied him at all times. He was sure he couldn't handle a child, a coffee shop and almost 20 cats...

Also, how could he explain to his child about his other father..?

After a few minutes of waiting, the small skeleton was attended by Dr. Caleb.

"Hello Mr. Ccino, " greeted the doctor, "How have you been lately?"

"Um... fine! I'm fine!" the skeleton lied with a smile.

"OK, so let's start with the check-up? I'll also take a little exam to see if souling is developing well"

The little skeleton just nodded.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Everything was going well. Ccino was relatively healthy, not taking into account his tiredness from having to work alone.

But what about souling?

Dr. Caleb watched Ccino's soul very strangely. Something didn't feel right.

"Something happened...?", the little skeleton asked while trying to stay calm.

The doctor sighed and took a while to respond.

"Well Ccino... soulings are developing relatively well, but something is not right..."

Wait...

"W-What?! Did you say soulings...?", Ccino exclaimed tremily.

"Well, yes, " said the doctor, "It seems that there are three"

Triplets?!

"I-I've been carrying three soulings..?"

"Yes, Mr. Ccino."

The skeleton breathed tremily as he tried to calm down.

"Look," the doctor began, "I know this must be a lot to absorb so far, but I believe soulings are corrupt..."

"C-corrupted...?"

"It's... Looks like it's some kind of hereditary corruption... Does your partner have some kind of soul corruption?"

"H-he... he has..."

"Look, I recommend you go to check-ups more often, just to make sure no accidents occur..."

"B-but are they going to be okay? The soulings... they're going to be fine..?"

"I can't assure you of anything, Mr. Ccino. There is a treatment that can help soulings when they are born, but I believe they will have to deal with corruption for life-"

"Sniff-"

"Mr. Ccino..?"

"Hic-"

Ccino couldn't take it anymore. He started crying as he hugged himself.

Three soulings... he wasn't sure if he could support a child, but three children...? How could he take care of three children...?

What about corruption? It'd take care of the soulings just like she did nightmare..? They would become like Nightmare..? Could they even live with such a curse...?

At this point, Ccino was hyperventilating in Dr. Caleb's office. He managed to feel the doctor wrap him in his arms and try to say words of comfort, but the little skeleton could not hear them.

The only thing that could pass through Ccino's mind was: would it even be worth it?

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

After a HUGE hiatus, I finally managed to write the third chapter :3 Poor Ccino, things aren't getting easy for him....

Anyways, if I did any grammar spelling error, please tell me and I will fix it!

First chapter

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Ccino belongs to black-nyanko

Nightmare belongs to jokublog

[sunkissedspider]

Clean | Peter Parker

MASTERLIST

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

summary: while you guys are alone, you walk in on Peter and you want to help...

warnings: smut, language, fluff, etc.

word count: 2.6k+

a/n: sorry for any spelling and/or grammar errors!!

     You and Peter have always been best friends, as long as you could remember. May, or Aunt May, what you’ve grown accustomed to calling her, and your parents have been besties for years. She helped them when they first moved into the sweet little apartment in Queens.

Your parents had left for an anniversary vacation a few days after Aunt May had to go on a business trip. You live on the floor below Peter's, so you and him would always sneak over to each other's apartments when the adults were home. Now that they were gone, you and Peter were together practically 24/7.

     One night you entered the apartment through Peter's window, quickly doing your secret knocking pattern to let him know that you were there. He didn't answer, but you saw a light coming out from under the bathroom door, so you assumed he was just taking a shower. You walk from his room into the kitchen to grab some snacks, your sweatpants clinging to different places of your body loosely, your socks padding against the floor lightly as you adjust the strings of your sweatshirt. You head over to the fridge and pour yourself a glass of lemonade and then grab an apple from the fruit bowl. You sit down at one of the bar stools and pull out your phone, consuming the food slowly.

     Your peace was quickly disrupted when you heard what sounded to you, at first, like a pained groan coming from the bathroom. It was loud enough to be heard over the running water of the shower and the quiet music playing from your phone as you read through one of Aunt May's many interesting books.

     You went back to reading and snacking, assuming that the noise was probably just your imagination running wild in the quiet apartment.

But then you heard it again, this time followed by a quick, quiet whimper. You dismissed the sounds again, going back to the book. What was it about again? Oh, yes. Vampires... or was it werewolves? Maybe it was both.

     “Y/N…”

     Alright, that's it! That was your name, you knew it! You walk over to Peter's bathroom door, listening closely. You hear more moans and whimpers and calls of your name.

     You open the door slowly and carefully, the room filled with steam from the hot water cascading through the air in the shower.

     "Fuck, Y/N!” Peter groaned loudly, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock. His hand was moving painfully slow, stretching the skin back and forth. When he said your name, you could've sworn that he had seen you, but he didn’t seem to notice you standing by the door.

     You saw him start to speed up the movements of his hands, trying to look away from the sight of your lewd best friend masturbating to the thought of you in the shower, but not being able to bring your eyes away from him. He looked incredible; he hair wet and messy, falling over his forehead in small clumps, droplets of water dripping all over his body, your eyes landing on his torso where the water was getting caught in the divots of his soft skin.

     "Peter..." You say, trying to get his attention, not really knowing if you want to look at him in the eyes right now.

He says nothing at the mention of his name, he just groans louder.

     "Petey?" You say his name again, trying to get him to acknowledge you.

     "Fuck, Y/N! Say my name again. Yes, fuck!" He says, thinking that it's all in his imagination.

     "Peter!" You finally yell, surely getting his attention. His head snaps up to you, his eyes wide with fear and cheeks red with embarrassment.

     “Y/N! Oh, my god! What are you doing here?" He screams, covering his painfully hard cock with his hands after turning the water off.

     "Muh-muh-movie night. Remember?" You say, bringing Peter back to the conversation you both had earlier on the subway home. He realized that he wasn't even listening during that talk, he was just thinking about how he would get rid of this boner that had been straining in his pants for hours.

     "I-I... Shit!" Peter hissed, slapping himself across the forehead. "Juh-Just let me get dressed and I'll be out in a minute.”

     "'M sorry, Petey…” You close the door, walking into the kitchen and living room area, stifling giggles. You know that it's not supposed to be funny, and it's not, but you always laugh when something like this happens. Not that this specifically has ever happened before, but when you walk in on your other friends doing things with their partners, it's always a little funny.

     You go to the cupboard and grab a bag of popcorn and put it in the microwave. As you’re grabbing two sodas from the fridge, Peter comes out of his room, wearing light grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He sits down on the couch, turning the volume up on the television, not looking at you or speaking to you.

     You grab the popcorn which you had transferred into a bowl and take the drinks with you to the couch. You hand Peter a soda and he mutters a quick "Thanks." Before turning to look away from you again. You snuggle up in one of the many decorative throw blankets that Aunt May has. And soon, you fall asleep. You wake up with your head on Peter's right thigh, facing the t.v., your hand next to your face but up slightly. You feel around and your hand touches something hard.

     "Uhm, Y/N?” Peter asks, brushing your hair back behind your ear.

     "Yeah, Peter?" You reply, turning your head towards him.

     "I'm sorry about earlier. I just... I don't know. I was just horny and I had been hard all day and... movie night just slipped my mind. But that's not even the worst part! You walked in on me, ya know, saying your name and stuff. But, I-I..." Peter managed to stutter out, looking incredibly embarrassed. His face red and sweaty.

     "Peter... Are you still hard?" You say after sitting up, looking down at his sweatpants, your hand on his right thigh. You and Peter had always been close, and you two always talk about super personal stuff, but... this is the farthest it's ever gone. You both talk about masturbation and sex and all of that, but it's never gone to the point where you’ve walked in on him or he's walked in on you.

     "I-, uh. Well… yes?" He says, the answer being more of a question than a statement.

     "You know, Peter... I could... help." You say, looking up at him quizzically.

     "W-what?!" He answers, looking shocked, his mouth open a small bit and his eyes wide.

     "If you want me to, Peter. But, I definitely wouldn't mind helping you take care of your... big problem here." You say, looking at him dead in the eyes, excitement growing in you.

     "Ok..." Peter says, looking at you with lust filled eyes. "O-only if you want to... I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

     "Trust me, Peter... I'm perfectly comfortable."

     You lean over to him and kiss him. Softly at first, but with growing heat and want. After you leave his lips, your lips travel down his jawline and neck, sucking softly on the skin to give it light purple marks. A few moans and even a few girly sounding whimpers leave his throat involuntarily. You remove your lips for a second, taking off the thin, tight black t-shirt. You stare at his bare chest for a few seconds before going in for another kiss. You bite and kiss up and down his chest and lower stomach, carefully palming him through his bottoms. Your lips come down to the waistband of his sweatpants.

     "Have you ever done this before? You're really, really good at it." Peter asks, looking down at you, a big, crazy grin on your face from wanting to do this for so long.

     "No, never. I just watch a lot of porn when I get bored. I'm a big virgin, Peter. You know this. And, last time I checked, you were too?" You ask, knowing that you’d be a little heart broken if he had done anything like this with another girl.

     "I-I haven't even kissed a girl before a few minutes ago, Y/N. But, fuck, I'm so glad that it's you that’s doing this." He says. You lift yourself off of the floor for a second, bringing your lips to his.

     You kiss back down his body until you’re at his waistband again. He lifts his hips up for a second so that you can take his pants off for him. His cock springs against his lower stomach, the tip leaking with precum. Your mouth starts to water at the sight of Peter fully naked for you. He looked big in the shower, but now that he's close to you, fuck! He's huge! You grasp the base of his cock, hearing him let out a little moan from the bare contact. As you’re on your knees again, you use your tongue to gather the precum that’s coming out of his rock-hard member. You take the head in your mouth and start sucking lightly, Peter moaning from above you. You remove your mouth and lick a stripe up his dick before taking as much of him as you can into your mouth, hearing him curse and groan above you. You use your left hand, that's on his right thigh, to stabilize yourself, using your other hand to pump the rest of his cock that you can't fit into your mouth. You bob your head up and down, Peter's hands coming into your hair to help you go at a faster, steadier pace. He makes a makeshift ponytail with his right hand, him helping you to bob your head even faster. You can feel his cock twitching in your throat, causing you to moan. You squeeze his balls lightly with your left hand, hearing him groan loudly. When your tongue dances on the tip of his cock, he whimpers softly in response, making him seem almost innocent in this heated moment.

     "Oh- Shit! Fuck! Y/N, I'm close-" He groans from above you, his head going back from the pleasure. "God, you look so beautiful with my dick in your mouth, baby."

     You double your speed and your efforts, wanting him to feel as much pleasure as possible. And, soon enough, his cock twitches in your mouth and you can feel his hot cum coating your throat. He moans loudly, so loud that you’re pretty sure your neighbors can hear. You take your mouth off of his cock with a satisfying 'pop'. He lays there for a second, his chest heaving and sweaty. He grabs a tissue from the tissue box on one of the end tables and is about to hand it to you until he realizes that you already swallowed all of the cum that just came out of him.

     "Oh, fuck." He mutters under his breath, kissing you deeply. He can taste himself on your tongue and, for some reason, that turns him on even more.

     "Fu- Peter!" You scream and giggle as he picks you up from the floor and switches your places, you now being on the couch and Peter being on the floor, his head in between your legs.

     You moaned lightly as Peter kissed you after moving up your body then started sucking on your neck, lifting your sweatshirt off and removing your bra. He stayed still for a moment, staring at your bare chest. His lips attached to your breasts, nipping and kissing at the soft skin.

     "Peter..." I breathed out when his tongue started to swirl around my nipples, making them hard as rocks.

     Peter kissed down your stomach, leaving a kiss right above the waistband of your sweatpants, causing a small whimper to leave your lips. You tell him quietly to do something, so he deftly unties the string of your bottoms, lifting your hips up so he can drag them down, moaning out loud at the fact that you don't have underwear on. You moan loudly when he unexpectedly licks a bold stripe up your heat.

     "You taste like fucking candy." He moans, dipping his head back to your throbbing pussy and taking another lick. You and Peter are both completely inexperienced with stuff like this, the both of you doing these things off of what you’ve seen in porn and on instinct, but you both seem like naturals.

     This time he drags a finger from your breasts all the way down to where you need him the most, his finger tracing your entrance. You groaned loudly as he pushed his finger inside of you, his tongue swirling around your clit. Your hips bucked sporadically from the intense feelings of pleasure that you were feeling, causing Peter to practically restrain you with his one of his forearms on your lower stomach, and, somehow, the pressure of his strong grasp caused you to moan louder.

     "Holy shit, Peter!" You moan out loudly. "I'm so close, don't stop!"

     After you say that, Peter doubles his efforts, his only goal right now is making you cum. After a few more pumps of his slender fingers and a few more laps of his tongue, your orgasm crashes over you in violent waves. You’re practically screaming as your legs close around Peter's head, one hand tightly in his brown curls and the other grasping a cushion of the couch behind you.

     After a few moments, you bring your head down so you can meet Peter's big, brown eyes. When you finally look at his face, you see the biggest smile spread across it.

     "That was incredible." He giggles, his tongue dancing across part of his chin to gather the rest of your cum.

     "Yeah... it was." You reply, your eyes closing, the tiredness finally sinking in.

     Peter got up off of the floor, joining you on the couch. He moves you so that you’re cuddled up against his chest, pulling a throw blanket over you both. You breathe in against his chest, his scent engulfing you. His plants small kisses against the top of your head as he sighs.

     "I think we should talk about this..." You gulped, moving your head up to meet his eyes. "I don't think it's normal for best friends to do stuff like this. So, I- uh, I guess what I'm trying to say is that, well... will you, ya know, be my girlfriend?" Peter asks, his cheeks heating up from the fear of rejection.

     "Fucking finally, Peter!" You exclaim, moving so that you can plant a long, passionate kiss against his soft lips.

     "So... that's a yes?" He smiles, looking at you excitedly.

     "It's an absolutely." You smile back, feeling so lucky that you’re finally getting to date your best friend, the guy you’ve been thinking about constantly for years.

     "God, I'm so lucky!" He exclaims, placing another kiss on your lips.

     As you two start to make out even more, Peter flips you over, your head deftly landing against the surface of the couch. Within the following minutes, you feel something hard prod against your inner thigh.

     "Hmm, I think you have a friend." You giggle out, looking down at Peter's new erection.

     "Round two?" Peter questions, a big smirk on his face.

     And with that, the whole night was spent in complete bliss. Well, until Aunt May got back from her trip early...

[thewildsophia]

.Fun Sized. Clone High//Van Gogh x Reader

I have made another. Apologizes for spelling/grammar errors.

Van Gogh x Tall!Reader

Word Count: 3860

~~~~~~~~~~

There wasn’t anything you loved more than just lying in bed, Van Gogh pressed to your chest, his short arms wrapped around your neck. Your arms would always find their way around his waist with your chin resting on his head, his bandages scratching your neck. You especially loved the way he’d subconsciously press his face harder into your chest when he was asleep. 

He’s simply small, and you love that about him. That, along with you being taller than average, makes it easy for you to cuddle with him.

Unfortunately, it was only 3rd period and you were currently stuck in English. Without him. But on the bright side, you got to see him next period in Painting II and then you’d have lunch with him. 

Class ended and you were the first out of there. It only took a minute to get to the art classrooms, but you would often wait outside for Van Gogh since you knew he was coming down from the second floor to the first. 

There was only a minute before class started and Van Gogh was nowhere to be seen, so you decided to go up and find him. You knew you’d probably be late to class but you didn’t really care. As you walked up the staircase to the tech wing, you overheard a conversation before you opened the door to the second floor. 

Upon opening the door you’re met with a sight that absolutely enraged you. Pinned against the wall by JFK was Van Gogh, with a few other clones around watching it all unfold. This was one of the more secluded parts of the school so there weren’t any teachers around. You didn’t care to listen to what they were saying to him, you just walked to them, that anger from before boiling over. Van Gogh seemed to notice you approaching because he began to call out name before you cut him off. 

“Y/-” You had turned and grabbed JFK by his collar, who let go of Van Gogh in the process, and pinned him against the wall. You were only a few inches shorter than him, but you were a lot stronger than you led people to believe. The other clones who were nearby had scurried off as soon as you had grabbed him.

“Kennedy.” You started, unable to help the sneer that formed on your lips. You felt Van Gogh’s hands grip at your waist, his cheek against your back.

“If I ever see you lay a finger on Van Gogh again, I will personally make sure you live up to your clone dad’s ‘legacy’.” You finished. You briefly glance behind you, your eyes meeting with Van Gogh’s. However, in that moment, JFK had managed to free his right hand and knocked you in the left side of the jaw. You let go of him, stumbling back a bit. 

“Y/N!” You heard Van Gogh cry. He had already let go of you and back away a few steps. 

“Like I said earlier, short stack,” JFK began, “You can’t stand up for yourself. You’re always having people fight for you.” You rubbed your jaw before turning towards JFK.

“You wanna go, Kennedy? Right here, right now, let’s go.” You said standing up fully.

“No, Y/N, leave it! Let’s just go.” You hear Van Gogh say to you, but you didn’t listen. No one gets the last hit on you. JFK turns towards you before saying, 

“Oh, you’ve got no idea how long I’ve wanna fight you.” 

He tries to hit you with a left hook, you quickly dogging it. You managed to punch him in the left side of his face before you grabbed the back of his neck, bending him forward and kneeing him in the stomach. You heard him cough before letting go of him and backing up. He remains hunched over a moment before quickly standing straight and grabbing you by the arm, punching you just left of your nose. You felt the blood begin to rush from it, but you didn’t care all that much. You returned the favor, punching his in the soft spot right under the jaw. He lets go of you and before he can do anything you bring your foot up and hit him. 

Right in the balls.

It was a cheap shot, one you weren’t too proud of, but you needed to end that fight. He collapses to his knees a strangled noise leaving his throat as you turn back around to face Van Gogh. 

He was stiff, eyes wide with his hands over his mouth. He reached out to you and you bent down to let him touch your cheek. You flinched at his touch and he pulled his hand away.

“Are you alright?” He whispered behind his hand, “Is he gonna be ok?” He asked looking behind you.

“He’ll be fine. At least I think so.” You said standing up and looking back. He was laying on the floor, holding his nuts. You wipe your nose, grimacing at the blood now on your hand. 

“Hey, get to class, alright? I’m gonna go get cleaned up.” You said while walking towards him. 

“No, let me help you.” He said taking your hand. 

“It’s fine.” You said while walking down the staircase together. “It’ll take me a bit and I don't want you being later than you already are.” You said with a smile. Van Gogh frowned as you two stopped in front of the classroom.

“All right.” He said letting go of your hand. 

“Hey, don’t get sad on me now.” You said kissing the top of his forehead, making sure not to get any blood on him. “I’ll be back.” And with that you left heading to the bathroom. 

You washed your face, being mindful of your nose. You went to check it and thankful it wasn’t broken. You patted it dry with a paper towel, noticing the bruise that was starting to form on the left side of your jaw and base of your nose. You then checked your wrist and, sure enough, it was also beginning to bruise where he had grabbed you. You checked the time on your phone. 

“Damn, I’ve been in here for 15 minutes?” You thought as you straightened out your outfit, checking for blood on it. Finding none you made your way to class. Just as you’re about to leave you realize that there’s only really 20 minutes left and that it would be better just to take an absence than a tardy. You didn’t want to get detention for being late.

You decided to just send a text to Van Gogh telling him you were okay and that you’d be waiting for him at the cafe. You then just worked on homework for the next 20 minutes while waiting for class to end. 

20 minutes later and Van Gogh was one of the first people there. He looked around a moment before you waved to him. He quickly made his way over to you, sitting down and embracing you tightly while pressing his face into your chest. 

“God, why would you do that? What were you thinking?” He said, muffled by your shirt. He pulled back, still holding your hand, and that’s when you noticed the tears that were threatening to fall. “I was so worried about you.” He said, his voice wavering a bit at the end. 

You stared at him for a moment, E/C eyes meeting light blue ones with a frown etched on your face.

“I’m sorry.” You said looking away from him. “It just-It bothers me, okay? It bothers me that people can make fun of you like it’s the best thing ever.” You bit your lip, squeezing his hand a little tighter before continuing. 

“I just…really like you, and I hate it when people make fun of you when they think they can get away with it.” You admitted.

“Y/N…” he whispered. You looked over at him and saw him motioning for you to bend down for him. You did and he pressed a kiss to your cheek, being mindful of the bruise there. 

“You don’t have to do this for me. I’m not worth all this trouble.” He said, his voice trailing off as he spoke. 

“That’s not true!” You said sitting up straight and pressing his head against your chest. “You’re worth anything and everything. Don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise.” You look down at him, his cheek still smushed against you. You smiled, “You mean a lot to me, and I don’t mind doing this for you.” 

You let go of him, stroking his cheek as he pulled back. He smiled while placing his hand over top of your’s. 

“I…Thank you, Y/N.” Although it hurt, you smiled as that all too familiar feeling tightened in your chest. 

“Hold on.” Van Gogh said while pulling away from you. He grabbed his lunch bag and from it he pulled out an ice pack, handing it to you.

“Thank you, love.” You said while pressing it against your cheek. It stung for a moment before the coolness began to soothe your aching jaw.

“You know, you really should see the nurse. He’ll probably be able to give you some pain killers.” Van Gogh said while pulling out his lunch. 

“Yeah, but then he’ll start asking questions like ‘Who did this to you?’ and ‘When and where did this happen?’. Which are questions I really want to avoid answering.” You said while mocking the nurse’s voice. 

“Alright, but eat something before we have to go.” He said while taking a bit of his oatmeal. 

“Nah.” You said, “It’ll hurt to eat, all I have are solid foods.” He sighs.

“Want to trade?” He asks, beginning to slide his furnace of oatmeal towards you. 

“Sure, I brought your favorite.” You said with a smirk as you pulled a bag of roasted chestnuts out and slid your lunch bag over to him. You made sure you always had a bag of them since you knew he enjoyed them a lot. They were one of the only things he ate, along with bread, butter, and coffee.

“Ooooo give me!” He said snatching the bag from you. You chuckled as you watched him eat. It was always nice knowing that he was eating. 

You picked up the spoon and started eating yourself when a familiar group of students walked over to join you; Abe, Joan and Gandhi. 

Abe seemed like such a scumbag to you. He acts like he cares about a girl’s personality when it comes to dating them, but really, he mainly cares about how they look. 

You and Joan were actually pretty cool with each other. You’ve had some really nice conversations with her, some casual and others more serious. She was actually the one to convince you to join the team crisis hotline, which is where you met Van Gogh. 

You’d have to thank her for that sometime. 

And Gandhi…Don’t even get you started on Gandhi. You absolutely hated the stunt he pulled that night with Van Gogh when he was “drunk.” Sure, he ended up apologizing for it, but it was still a shitty thing to do to someone who was trying to get help. 

It seemed that Van Gogh felt the same way that you did since you saw him give Gandhi a glare as he sat down, one that Gandhi clearly didn’t see. 

“What brings you three here?” You ask. Joan was the first to speak.

“We saw what you did to JFK. That…was you right?” She asked. 

“Maybe. What of it?” You replied. 

“Well, I just wanted to see if you were alright, make sure he didn’t beat up on you too much-” Joan says before being cut off by Abe.

“Yeah. And thanks for beating the crap out of him. Someone had to put him in his place.” He says. You watch as he raises his hand for a high five and you just stare at it for a second before returning to eating the oatmeal. 

“I didn’t do it for you.” You said between bites, “I did it for Van Gogh.” 

“Jeez, what’s with you two. You got a crush on him or something?” Gandhi asks…loudly. A few people had turned and looked at you two before you glared at him, making him calm down a bit. You moved your hand over to Van Gogh’s under the table.

“Well,” Joan started while getting up, “Text me if you need help taking care of those bruises. And try to stay out of fights, Y/N.” The other two follow her as she turns around.

“Can do, Captain Ark.” You said with a mock salute. She smiles before walking away, Abe and Gandhi following her. 

You and Van Gogh continue eating, the bell ringing soon after the two of you finished. You swapped bags again before leaving. Before you left his side, however, Van Gogh stopped you.

“Hey, stop by my dorm sometime this afternoon or evening. After you finish your work.” He asks. You agree before leaving to go to 6th period.

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

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful with you simply going to your afternoon classes. The closer you got to the end of the day the more stares you got from people. Was the bruising really getting that bad?

On your way out of the school and to your dorm yo stopped by the bathroom to check your injuries. 

Yikes. Those did not come out so pretty.

The one your jaw had formed into a mass of black and dark purple that consumed the entire lower half of your left jaw. Your nose made it look like you had been hit in the face by the butt of a rifle (A/N: that’s happened to me and I genuinely thought it had broken my nose, but thankfully it didn’t). Your wrist wasn’t too bad, although it hurt like hell to flex your hand.

You left the bathroom and quickly headed to your dorm to finish your work for the day. You had already finished some of it during lunch so it didn’t take as long normally. You had finished within three hours, all the while icing your injuries, changed and made you way over to Van Gogh’s dorm room. You had brought over some Morrocan stew, a vegetarian one of course, you made last night and rye bread for him.

You knocked on his door before he answered. His eyes widened with a frown on his face and didn’t greet you, simply moving aside to let you in. 

“Hey,” You said, “I brought you dinner.” You held up the bag for him to see.

“Thanks just…leave it on my desk.” He says gesturing to his desk and sitting on his bed. You set the bag down and look at him. He looks terrible; the orange-red hair that was visible was a mess, his face flush and eyes somewhat red. You frowned as you pieced things together.

“What’s wrong?” You asked while sitting next to him on the bed. You noticed the way he slightly shifted away from you.You frown as you wait for him to answer.

His mouth opens a few times with nothing coming out and he makes a few strange faces before saying, 

“Do you think I’m…short?” He asks and you look at him for a moment. 

“I mean,” He continues, “I know I’m ‘short’, but do you think I’m short?” You eyebrows knit in confusion before you asked, 

“Why do you ask?” 

“Answer me.” He said firmly. You stared at him a moment, his gaze never meeting yours.

“No, I don’t think you’re short.” You answer him, “Now answer me. Why are you asking?” You saw him tense before sighing. 

“It’s just…the conversation with JFK I had earlier,” He started and you felt your face grow warm with anger, “He said that you only hang around me because you felt bad for me, and that-that you stand up for me because you know I can’t stand up for myself.” He finished, his voice cracking at the end. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, you could still see the tears that were forming in his eyes. 

“I guess he’s right.” He whispered while gripping the sheets, “Just look at what happened to you. This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t have to always get me out of trouble.”

“Vincent,” You whispered, “Look at me.” He reluctantly looked over at you, face flush with tears. You quickly grabbed him, pressing him into the bed with a surprised noise escaping his lips. You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.

“Don’t you ever, and I mean ever, let anyone make you believe those kinds of things about yourself, do you hear me? You mean so much to me and you have no idea how much I love you.” You said, your face only mere inches away from his. “Do you understand? Don’t let anyone mess with your confidence like that.” Your jaw hurt from talking so much.

You saw him smile, his eyes beginning to water again. You brushed your hand through his hair, bending down to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you, Y/N. That really means a lot to me.” Van Gogh whispered. You could taste the saltiness of his tears on your lips when you pulled away from him. 

You got off of him, letting him sit up on the bed. You pulled him into your lap, your chin resting on his head -- being mindful of your jaw -- and arms wrapped around his torso. You gently rocked him in your lap, whispering comforts to him. His face was pressed almost painfully into your chest but you didn’t mind. After a few minutes you asked him, 

“Are you feeling better now?” That warm, all consuming, feeling began to well up in your chest when he pulled away, a smile present.

“Yeah. A lot better actually.” He said. 

“Good. So if you wouldn’t mind…” You began, sliding him off of your lap, “I’m going to go heat up dinner for you.” You said grabbing the bag and heading over to his kitchen area. 

“Do you still have work you need to do?” You ask while reheating the stew. While that was heating up you started cutting the bread. 

“Yeah, but not much. It can wait.” He said while trying to look into the pot on the stove, “Ooo, is that rye?” He asks when his eyes drifted over to what you were cutting. 

“Yes, and if you don’t have a lot of work left then just finish it now while this heats up.” You said, gently pushing him out. He pouts before going off to do his work. 

10 minutes later and you were done preparing everything. You fixed a bowl of stew and bread for Van Gogh before heading over to him. He didn’t seem to notice you approaching him because he flinched when you placed the bowl to his right. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” You apologized sheepishly. 

“It’s fine,” He says while grabbing a piece of bread and dipping it in the stew, “Thank you, liefde.*” You smiled before walking back into the kitchen to get yourself some. 

The two of you ate in relative silence since he was still working. When he had finished he walked into the kitchen, placed his dishes in the sink and sat down with you. He handed an ice pack to you, which you quickly accepted.

“You’re a really good cook, you know that?” He says with a smile.

“You are too, when you choose to cook.” You said with a chuckle. Van Gogh checked the time while you continued to eat. 

“It’s almost 10, did you want to stay here tonight?” He asked looking back at you. 

“Only if you’re okay with it.” You say getting up and placing your bowl in the sink. You put the ice pack back in the freezer.

“Of course.” You hear him say behind you. You and him both walked back over to the bedroom, grabbing something to change into. 

You have a small, plastic storage container in the corner of Van Gogh’s room that had a few pairs of clothing. Van Gogh has the same thing in your room too. You go into the bathroom to change, Van Gogh simply changing in his room. You knock on the door to tell him you’re coming out before exiting the bathroom wearing your night clothes. It wasn’t much; just a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Van Gogh wore much of the same, although opting for long sleeves and pants instead. 

He quickly crawled into bed and motioned for you to join him.

“Let me put my clothes away first.” You said with a smile and a chuckle. Even in the dark you saw his pout and crossed arms as you made your way to the corner of the room. After putting your clothes away you made your way to the bed. You weren’t even half way under the covers when you heard him say,

“Come on,” While scooting closer to you, “Hold me!” He whined as he looked up at you with pleading eyes. You look at him for a moment in the dark before crossing your arms saying,

“You know what? No, I won’t hold you.” You turned your chin up and looked away from him. You heard him fake gasp and you couldn’t help the smile that creeped its way onto your face.

“Well! I can’t believe it. All this time I thought you loved me.” He said in mock sadness. “I suppose I was a fool to think you’d love me.” 

You slowly turn your head to look at him before giggling and grabbing him from behind. You heard him laugh and my God that laugh was perfect. Lighthearted and full of joy and everything about it made you smile and laugh yourself. 

His laughter died down when he felt you wrap your arms around him tighter, curling around him from behind. You pressed a kiss to the back of his neck as you breathed in the scent of his soft, orange hair. He shifted in your arms slightly but didn’t try to pull away. Not like he wanted to; he loved being the little spoon with you. 

“Ow, careful of my wrist.” You whispered when he moved a little too much.

“Sorry.” He apologized.

It was quiet for a while, and for a moment it seemed like one of you would fall asleep; but right before one of you did you spoke up.

“Vincent,” You whispered.

“Yeah?” He answered after a moment. 

“You’re not short,” You tell him, “And if JFK, or anyone for that matter, tells you otherwise I want you to tell them this.” You pause.

“Tell them what?” He asks.

“Tell them,” You begin, “‘I’m not short, I’m fun sized.’”

Although you couldn’t see it, Van Gogh’s face lit up with that gorgeous peach color as a smile graced his features. 

“I will.”

~~~~~~~~~

“Liefde” - “Love” (Dutch)

[ts-storytime]

Beta List 2021

A list of betas for the 2020 TS-Storytime Big Bang! This will detail the beta’s URL, beta type(s), preferred genres, genres that make them uncomfortable, and any other additional information.

The beta types are:

Developmental beta: I’d like to help create the plot and help the writer shape the story.

Basic beta: editing for spelling/grammatical errors, or things like consistency in the story.

Cheerleading beta: Cheering for the writer to keep going!

This list has been posted in order of their sign-up. If a beta chooses to no longer be available, DM me, and this list will be updated for their url to be striked through like this. Updated as of 5/1/21.

@cardigancladpatton

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference

Genres they want to avoid: No preference

Additional info: N/A

@houser-of-stories

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Humour, Ghosts or Heists or Historical Settings, Mythology AUs, Messing with Time is always something I’m interested in

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW, anything with an unhappy ending (ambiguous/open ended is fine), incredibly graphic injuries

Additional info: I’ve got a little bit of experience under my belt, and I’m open to pretty much anything!

@d4rk3stn1ght

Beta types: Developmental and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No

Genres they want to avoid: No

Additional info: I tend to add a lot of angst/hurt comfort but I also like to ping pong ideas. Almost like a verbal rp and it gets both ideas generated in the person's mind

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly

Beta types: Basic

Preferred genres: I’m comfortable with anything and don’t have any major triggers so I can handle the heavy stuff well. I love angst but am fine w anything! 

Genres they want to avoid: I’m not huge on medieval fantasy but am willing to do it! 

Additional info: N/A

@thewordyhibiscus

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: I'm fine with any genre!

Genres they want to avoid: There are no genres I'd be uncomfortable working with.

Additional info: There is nothing else I'd like to add.

@davidthetraveler

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: I'm good with most things.

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW content, "No happy ending" stories, certain ships, certain types of triggering or squicky content.  If you're not sure if your story's content is something I'd be uncomfortable with, feel free to discuss it with me.

Additional info: As a developmental Beta, I would be available to help you sort out what needs to happen in your story.  I can help find ways to get from one point to another.  I can help to set the tone and feel for the story.  I can also be there to ask questions to challenge you to figure things out for yourself.  And I can even review stories to see if they make internal logical sense.  But I will always defer to you, the author, on what will actually be put into your story. As an editing Beta, my philosophy is that it is not my job to tell you what your voice needs to be, but rather to help your voice be clear and understandable.  I will correct spelling and grammar, as well as punctuation.  And I will occasionally suggest a different word or phrasing to better express what you're trying to say.  But you will always have the final say, and I will do my best never to overwrite your voice.

@pretty-hog-wild

Beta types: Basic

Preferred genres: Fantasy, slice of life, college au, disney (if that is a genre)

Genres they want to avoid: Horror

Additional info: N/A

@purplepatton

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference! 

Genres they want to avoid: Smut

Additional info: I've beta'd before, both for fandom and academic work, so I have some experience! My time zone is EST, and I use discord frequently so you can reach me easily on there! I'm excited to see the amazing stories that come out of this years bang :)

@wisherbysharlight

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Romance

Genres they want to avoid: Angst

Additional info: N/A

@sides-on-a-string

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: I like fantasy and sci-fi!

Genres they want to avoid: I'm not fond of horror.

Additional info: N/A

@chaoticcartoonlokibiscuit

Beta types: Basic

Preferred genres: Fantasy or Adventure are my favorites! 

Genres they want to avoid: I'm not really comfortable with very graphic stories that include sexual or violent content. I'm fine with fights and violence, as long as it isn't too explicit or dark. Horror also isn't my favorite, but I don't mind if the story's a little scary. Again, just not too explicit.

Additional info: I signed up as a beta reader to check for spelling/ grammatical and continuity errors but if the writer I'm helping wants any plot-related advice, I'd be happy to share my ideas about that as well!

@kieraelieson

Beta types: Basic and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Fantasy, sci-fi, canon-ish

Genres they want to avoid: Romance

Additional info: I really prefer to work with Gen stories, or stories with a smaller emphasis on ships. 

@meglooy

Beta types: Basic and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Sci-fi, fantasy, hurt/comfort, G/t

Genres they want to avoid: Nsfw, Major character death, Unsympathetic sides (morally grey ok)

Additional info: Please don't be afraid to correct me if I'm doing something wrong, I'm kinda new at this, and I want to get better

@pattonkittysquad2

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference

Genres they want to avoid: Extreme horror/cosmic horror

Additional info: I can't do anything with unsympathetic characters

@youronelesbianfriend

Beta types: Basic and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Most

Genres they want to avoid: Anything with unsympathetic patton 

Additional info: N/A

@starshineandbooks

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW Content

Additional info: Nope I'm pretty easy going

@confinesofpersonalknowledge

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: fiction, high-fantasy, children aus

Genres they want to avoid: ones with too much character suffering

Additional info: not really!

@do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them

Beta types: Developmental and basic

Preferred genres: AUs with fun worldbuilding potential; hurt/comfort (I am pretty good at it); fantasy

Genres they want to avoid: Stories with: major focus on heavy real-world issues; canon characters written as abusive or irredeemably awful; hopeless endings

Additional info: I'm an adult, and would be comfortable working with NSFW content as long as the writer is also an adult.

@poppytres

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Nope, any is fine!

Genres they want to avoid: Anything dealing with pregnancy, but given it's Sanders sides, I doubt that will be an issue.

Additional info: You guys are going to do so good!

@legendsgates

Beta types: Developmental and basic

Preferred genres: Angst/whump with a happy ending, canonical aus, alien aus, soulmate aus, superpower aus, time travel (in canonical aus), pre-accepting anxiety aus

Genres they want to avoid: Sad or ambiguous endings, major character death, unsympathetic sides

Additional info: (Tumblr isn’t letting me receive messages right now, so if you want to contact me I’m on discord as ShadowState#2367) I’m a bit more experienced with line editing than developmental, but I’ll do my best to help with both!)

@anxious-logic

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: No preference

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW, any unsympathetic sides, horror, unhappy endings

Additional info: N/A

@harper-is-a-little-sh1t

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Romance, fluff, hurt/comfort

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW, unhappy endings, gore, unsympathetic sides, anything with more than a passing mention of over/under-eating

Additional info: I'm not really a fan of Remrom or Dukeceit and would prefer not to work with writing involving either of those. I have no problem with people shipping them but I'm just personally not comfortable.

@psychedelicships

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: i love fantasy AUs but i'll be willing to work with any!

Genres they want to avoid: I'm a minor, so no NSFW. 

Additional info: English IS my first language, and I'll be willing to beta multiple works! I'm fine with any ship except r/m/rm

@let-the-words-be-free

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: I'm best with fantasy but I work well with any genre.

Genres they want to avoid: N/A

Additional info: I'm in school for editing and creative writing plus I love to cheer people on! I'm ready and willing to help!

@yellowroseartist

Beta types: Cheerleading

Preferred genres: Cannonverse, Urban/Modern, Slice of Life, maybe even Fantasy

Genres they want to avoid: NSFW, Unsympathetic Sides, Horror or graphic violence, Unhappy ending (ambiguous/open ended is fine), Superhero Stories, Soulmate AUs

Additional info: I've never beta before, but I have done some writing and such for fun so I may be able to help w/ more developmental stuff if needed!

@earmuffstar

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Hm, I prefer canonverse, but I'll work with anything

Genres they want to avoid: Nothing explicit please?

Additional info: I'll probably be better at spelling/grammar/consistency/flow editing than plot editing, but I offer my services for it regardless

@5-falsehoods-phonated

Beta types: Basic

Preferred genres: Nope! I'm good wherever I'm needed.

Genres they want to avoid: No, I'm okay reading anything.

Additional info: Not that I can think of. 

@infawrit10

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Nope!  I’m partial to certain ships like Prinxiety and Moceit, but I’m happy and willing to work with anything, pretty much!

Genres they want to avoid: Anything with heavy angst, rape/non-con elements, NSFW/NSFS, and romantic Moxiety (platonic or familial is fine, though!)

Additional info: The best way to reach me would be through tumblr DMs.  I’m so excited to work with you!

@averykedavra

Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: fantasy, human au, and/or superheroes!

Genres they want to avoid: hurt no comfort, major character death, or other heavily angsty subject matter

Additional info: N/A

@mariniacipher​

​Beta types: Developmental and basic

Preferred genres: Any type of fantasy would be welcome, but I’m fine with most genres. 

Genres they want to avoid: Tragedies and hanahaki are both a no for me. 

Additional info: I have a bunch of experience under my belt and while i am thorough, this is always in service of the story’s improvement. I’d adore to work with one of the many lovely works which will be part of this challenge, and am very much looking forward to that 😊. 

@violetgauze

​Beta types: Developmental, basic, and cheerleading

Preferred genres: angst/found family/romance 

Genres they want to avoid: smut, action, anything sexual, abuse/assault, suicide

Additional info: no experience in beta-ing but i've written fiction before (not for sanders sides) 

@fruit-snacc-ace

​Beta types: Developmental and cheerleading

Preferred genres: Not particularly! I'm pretty much open to everything!

Genres they want to avoid: I'm a minor, so I can't work with nsfw fics, but other than that I'm okay with pretty much everything!

Additional info: I can't wait to work with other authors! I'm so excited to help them out!

[pencilwritesshiz47]

An Apology in the Form of an Adventure

MGR Chapter Five

[Previous] [Next] [Masterpost]

TW: Arguing

Dame Lauren Baker stared at her screen, not listening as the broadcaster kept on talking. All she could think about were those words.

"Xan Ruz is no more."

What did that even mean? How could a country be “no more”? All she knew was that there was no way that could be a good thing. And her best friend was stuck there.

She wanted to panic. But she couldn't panic. Not in front of... her. She stared at the girl who had crashed on top of her only minutes ago. She was the reason Goldie was in this situation. She was the one who left her. She...

Lauren took a deep breath. Maybe Goldie was ok. She swiped out of the broadcast screen, and opened her phone app, quickly hitting Goldie's contact.

She put her phone up to her ear, her heart racing.

Briiiing.

Briiiing.

Briiiing.

Briiiing.

Briiiing.

"Heeeeey!"

Lauren gasped. "Goldie! Goldie, are—are you alright? I—"

"You've reached Goldie Potter, and I'm not at the phone right now, sorry 'bout that. Anywaaaays, I'll call ya back when I can! Byeeeeeeeeee—"

She hung up. She tried to convince herself that Goldie's phone was just dead, but her mind kept jumping to other thoughts...

"I'm sorry."

Lauren looked over at the girl, her words breaking off her internal ranting.

"You should be."

The girl sighed and looked at her feet. "I know. I screwed up. I should have brought her with me. But you have to understand, I really tried! Everything was so crazy, and I just— I-I'm just so sorry."

And then, in that moment, Lauren had a choice. Forgive her, or not.

Almost subconsciously, she chose "not". The raging part of her took over, sending the rational part back. She started yelling again, but she wasn't even sure what she was saying until she found herself ranting about the girl helping them rescue Goldie.

She looked at the girl, her face full of fear. The girl shakily took a piece of paper and a pen out of her pocket, scribbled something on it, and handed it to her, mumbling, "My contact information." Then she walked off.

Lauren just stood there. She wasn't sure what to think, or what to feel. She looked at the paper in her hands. It was pink, with little flowers around the edges. Written on it in some of the fanciest writing she'd ever seen, were the words, "Lady Elisabeth Melly," and then an address and a phone number. She shoved it into her pocket but she didn't leave. She just stood there.

She wasn't sure how long it had been since the girl—Lady Elisabeth—had left, but when she heard footsteps the sky was a shade of purple so dark it ought to be black.

"Hey," a gentle called out. "It's late."

"She's still in Xan Ruz," Lauren responded, almost robotically.

"What?"

"Goldie. She's still in Xan Ruz. A-and I called her, and she didn't answer. And I think someone's going to help us find her in three days if she doesn't come back but I don't even know—"

The person had come around to her by now, and she just sank into their arms, soon realizing that it was her friend, Marigold. She looked up at her, her eyes filled with tears. "M, I don't know what to do and I'm-I'm scared."

"Let's go home," she whispered, and slowly, they stared to walk back to the JKA.

✧✧✧

"You double-checked the checklist, right? We do have everything?" The knight asked.

"For the last time, yes." The healer said, a bit exasperated although she still had a small smile on her face.

"Are you sure you're not lying to me?"

"Would I lie to you about a checklist?"

Lauren sighed. "I sure hope not."

Three days had passed since her encounter with the noblewoman. And since Goldie hadn't returned, they were heading out for Xan Ruz.

Unfortunately, the JKA leader Dame Alice, wasn't completely thrilled with a sector leader and a healer to go wandering off on an international rescue adventure, so the two had to sneak out.

"Ok, now when did Di say she'd be closing the portal?" Lauren asked, not wanting to be late.

"Uh, I think it was the 23rd hour? And it's the 22nd hour right now, so we're good." Marigold replied.

Lauren nodded, and peaked out her bedroom door. Thankfully, there was no one there, and she motioned to Marigold to follow her.

They tip-toed through from one end of the hallway to the other, stopping when they reached door 3. The brunette knocked on the door softly, and the blue-haired girl answered, yawning slightly. "Thank the gods you're here, this portal is a bit harder to keep open then I thought."

Lauren knit her brows. "But isn't the location pretty close to here?"

Di sighed. "Yeah, it does seem to be, but for some reason it's just... tiring. That could be from the strain leftover from opening that Xan Ruz portal, but something is still off..."

Lauren frowned. "Well, we'll look into that when we get back. But thank you for opening this."

Di smiled. "No prob boss," and the two stepped through the portal.

✧✧✧

"We're outside the palace," the sprite remarked, staring at the building looming just yards away from them.

Lauren stared at it. It was quite huge, with many towers and high walls. The dark gray brick and numerous Calinas flags gave it a sense of majesty and elegance, but in the dark it felt frightening as well.

But Lauren wasn't paying attention to it, instead, she was trying to find the river where, according to Marigold, Lady Elisabeth had arranged a boat to be placed.

It took her a second, but she quickly found the brown wooden rowboat. It was modest, but it would work. She quickly dragged Marigold over to it, and climbed in.

She took a moment to take it all in—the feeling of the rough wood beneath her, the smell of the cool night air, and the gentle sounds of the river flowing. But it didn't last long—she had other things to attend to.

She opened her phone, as there wasn't enough light for her to see her watch. In bright white letters behind her lockscreen (A selfie of her, Goldie, and Marigold taken just a few months after she joined the JKA) was the time—22:19. She sighed. They had made it on time.

Marigold went over to the side of the boat, and quickly climbed in, splashing both of them. Lauren giggled, leaned over to the side of the boat, and cupped up some water in her hands. Then, quick as an arrow, she threw it at Marigold's back. The sprite turned around, her face in an expression of mock anger. She gasped, and took a bit of water in her hands, gently spraying Lauren with it.

They went on like this for a few minutes, although Marigold was far more wet than Lauren. When they were finally finished with their splash-fest, Lauren checked her phone's time again, frowning.

"What's wrong?" Marigold asked, concern lacing her voice.

Lauren showed the healer her phone, the time reading 22:24—Elisabeth was four minutes late.

"Oh," Marigold said, frowning slightly. "Don't worry, she'll be here soon."

Lauren sighed, but nodded. Not knowing what else to do, she looked up at the stars, smiling.

The stars had always fascinated Lauren. They were dots of mystery lining the sky, and she loved to find constellations and see if she could guess where the moons that weren't visible this time of month were.

At about 22:29, Marigold went out to see if she could spot Elisabeth, and it took another two minutes until she finally showed up.

Lauren rolled her sapphire-colored eyes. "You're late."

Elisabeth scowled. "For your information, it wasn't exactly easy getting out of the meeting. Although I doubt you'd understand that, as I assume that you got out without any trouble."

Lauren huffed. "Well, you know what happens when you assume, because it was actually quite a bit of a challenge getting out."

Elisabeth said nothing, and simply climbed into the boat.

Lauren looked up at Marigold, who seemed to be staring across the river. "M." No response. "M!" The sprite stayed silent. "M!!" That seemed to shock her out of whatever funk she was in, as she quickly climbed into the boat once again.

"You good?" Lauren asked.

"Yeah. I was just... thinking."

"Ok..." Lauren said. She quickly pulled out her sword, and cut the rope attaching them to the shore, and they started moving.

"We're coming for you, Goldie," she murmured as the current sailed them away. 

Eyyy finally got the chapter out!! yayyy!!

Anyways, please let me know:

If you want to be added or removed from the taglist

If I’ve made any spelling mistakes

If I’ve made any grammar errors

Your general feedback

Your questions

If I should add any other trigger warnings.

also, please remember, reblogs are free, and if you don’t like it you can always delete the post later. it’d be a big help for my account, and thank you

Taglist: @xonar-verse

@dorkdukess

@dirty-racoon

[rtenthusiast]

home again- b.h (part 5)

Ben Hardy X OC

word count: 1k

home again playlist (ben)

home again playlist (ches)

Summary: Ches tells Emily whats been going on with Ben and later sees Babe at the supermarket.

Disclaimers: This plot and characters are fictional (excluding Ben) and from my own mind. In no way does the Ben in this story portray Ben in real life. Grammar and spelling errors. 

May 21

These damn birds.

Every morning the same two birds fly onto the balcony off to the side of my bedroom, coincidentally right next to my bed, and chirp. It’s like they want to annoy me because every time I get up they just stop.

Conversation ended. Just like that.

My god.

I flip over and sigh, not wanting to get up. After I rub my eyes for a good 20 seconds I reach for my phone. Clicking it I expected to see a message from my mother but what I actually saw was one from Ben.

“Hey, thanks for having me over. Call me when you see this? X”

 I call Emily instead.

“Hey stranger, where’ve you been?”

“Here in my bed, thank goodness we have off today.”

“I know. So. Let’s get right to the point then shall we? How has it been having Ben around again? I was shocked when he came to see you the other day.”

No cutting corners with Emily. Ever.

“Yeah… it’s been nice.”

“Ok… elaborate.”

“Well he ended up coming back to my flat-”

“Oh my gosh you did not! Shut up tell me everything-” Emily gasps and starts to yell.

“Emily no! It was not like that psycho. We came back and ate, that was it.”

“Boring. How was dinner with your family, I’m still mad you never told me about that bitch.”

“It was fine.” I lie.

“I can tell you’re holding back. I’m not stupid you know”

Jeez, she can even read me over the phone.

“We did get into it a couple of times…” I say in a small voice.

“Francesca, are you serious, about what? Why didn’t you call me immediately after? What right does this guy have to just waltz back-”

“Alright Em, I know. I was pissed too, but it’s over with.” I’m quick to shut her down, I really don’t want her to get worked up. Or call him out. 

“I just told him how it hurt to see him out there living the high life and not even getting a call back. He understood though, and made me see from his perspective. No hurt feelings, seems like a win to me. But, well I don’t know. It got kind of weird last night…”

“Why?”

“I just- well I don’t know. He started to bring up that client I had, Barnett, and I don’t know, he seemed jealous? I don’t want to sound full of myself. But it was there, I could feel the shift in the conversation, it got nasty. Unless he was just fooling around and I got into my own head, honestly I-”

“Um no. He probably was. I see how he looks at you, just saying. Maybe he was jealous, why don’t you just confront him about it, don’t beat around the bush.”

“No Emily it isn’t like that. Anyways, it’s over with, I really don’t want to bring it up to him again.” Because I really don’t want him to admit he was jealous and let myself believe there was even a small bit of him that cared in that way. Is what I wanted to say but instead I changed the subject. 

We’re just friends. End of conversation.

“What's new with you?”

She continues to tell me for the next hour how she found this cute little bar more on the outskirts of her town and the hot bartender that made “moves” on her all night. After that we hung up, both needing some breakfast and maybe a bit more sleep.

-

It was now 1:00 and I had dusted, vacuumed, and cleaned the bathroom.

Call Ben back. My brain screams at me.

I had been avoiding it all day but honestly I didn’t really understand why. We were fine, the night ended off on a good note.

Move on Francesca, it already happened and was finished. Stop overthinking.

So instead, I texted him.

“Hey, just saw this, been cleaning all day. What’s new?”

Now we wait.

Boring.

I walk over to the fridge to grab something to eat but realize all I have is orange juice and celery.

Great.

Shopping it is.

I hate food shopping with a burning passion. I sat and considered driving to my parents and mooching off of them for some dinner but I honestly don’t have the energy.

Every red light I hit on the way to the store I checked my phone. No answer. I feel a certain anxiety coming on but I’m not sure why. My eyes keep going over, “Call me when you see this?”. My brain is practically a broken record at this point. 

What does he need to tell me? Am I looking too far into this? Probably. 

I can’t help but overthink, something I do constantly. But, if I don’t then I’m not occupied at all, and free time never leads to anything good.

As I enter the store I look at my phone one last time before I start to grab the things I’ll need for this week. Milk, peppers, apples, ice cream, pasta… I can’t reach this damn pasta.

It’s times like these that I wish I had some more height, or heels.

I feel someone behind me as they reach for the exact box of pasta I was going for. Man, is this guy kidding me.

“Looked like you need some help there Ms. Barrett.”

As I turn around I come face to face with babe.

“I keep telling you, it’s Francesca.” I say with a grin, snatching the pasta out of his hands.

“I was about to go all nasty ‘give me back my pasta dick’ on you, consider yourself lucky.”

“Counting my lucky stars. It’s so weird that I’m seeing you here, I was just about to call the office and ask if I could reschedule our meeting for the Monday of next next week.”

“Of course that is no problem, I’ll see when I can fit you in and get back to you. Why can’t you make it tomorrow?”

My eyes go wide.

“That was completely unprofessional. I'm so sorry, that is your personal business, not mine.” I rush out feeling very uncomfortable.

“No Francesca, it’s fine” He laughs before dropping his smile a bit, “I uh, I actually have a date.”

“Oh” I answer flatly, “well, Barnett, I’m happy for you and I hope it goes well.” I say, wanting to leave the aisle as the atmosphere suddenly seemed to shift.

“Hey, it was good seeing you. I’ll be sure to keep my Monday free, I’m really sorry.” He says as he places his hand on my arm, a look of guilt seems to run over his eyes.

“You too Barnett, I’ll let you know.” I say with a small smile and turn to go check out. 

-

On the ride home my mind drifts as I think about Babe.

I thought maybe something was there. I’m just looking too far into it I guess. He was probably just being friendly at the office and I perceived it differently.

As I get home and make dinner I check one last time before I head to bed. No missed calls, texts, nothing. 

Whatever, I’m not going to fall back into waiting around for him. I think to myself as I slowly drift into sleep. 

-

AN: Hi!!!!!! Guys, I have had the worst writers block. I am so sorry for making you all wait because I know hw much it sucks. But...it’s back! I hope you all can understand how tough writers block can be (I’m sure you can). Thank you so much for reading a feel free to let me know what you think either through a comment or my message box (which is always open). I love when you guys message me <3 very sweet. I should have the next chapter out between thursday and next wednesday. Until then!

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area

Warning: Not explicit (yet); some mild language. This has been quite cathartic in a way.

Summary: 29-year-old nurse Sarah Bernette has worked hard to get where she is. Moving to Boston from a nowhere dump of a town, she’s studied hard and is grateful her stress is finally paying off. Despite being fostered repeatedly throughout her childhood, she’s since found some comfort in the form of her adopted parents, Jocelyn and Noah, and a pseudo-adoptive family of sorts in form of the Evans clan who have treated her as one of her own ever since she moved in with best friend, Shanna. Valuing them above all else, she appreciates their support even more when her long lost birth mother decides to reappear in her life after so many years, and is surprised to find out just how supportive Chris is in particular. As she struggles to maintain a firm grip on both her professional and private lives, she finds an ill-advised solace in her growing mutual attraction with him but how long before everything unravels and threatens to pull the rug out from underneath her?

Note: I have two chapters written and will post ‘Chapter Two’ at some point this weekend to get things moving. I apologise for my spelling/grammar errors. Let me know if there is something wildly incorrect here and I’ll change it. Still figuring out a few things and I expect this will be a slow burn but it’s exciting to finally get off my arse and…sit down and write. 

CHAPTER ONE

Today was probably a 4 out of 10.

4.5 if she was feeling generous.

Sarah thought about the decisions she had made in the past decade that lead her right to this moment, this moment being cleaning neon-coloured vomit off her scrubs for the second time in the past hour.

“You would think people would have learned downing shots of Absinthe was not a great idea by the time they’d left their teens,” snickered Audrey before shooting her a sympathetic look and handing over another wipe. “I can’t believe how green it was. It looks like you got punked by the Marshmallow Man!”

“Thanks for that.” Sarah was scrubbing as hard as she could while internally questioning her decision to pursue Nursing all those years ago. Her History teacher once told her she could have “a decent stab” at becoming a Middle School teacher if she applied herself right. Right now, she could be knee-deep in teaching half-interested kids about the 27 Amendments without an ounce of sick in sight. Instead, she was baffled. “Fuck. It’s practically luminous…”

This must have been payback for pushing herself as a teenager. Being fostered in and out of care homes during your formative years could turn you one way or the other, and Sarah chose “the other”. She was sure the universe was telling her she should have stayed put and been happy with her lot in life, in her too-small town with no feasible job prospects, where everyone knew you and held that against you, instead of moving halfway across the country with next to no money to study at a University she couldn’t afford and would most likely be in debt to for the next twenty years. Now, however, she got to convince local drunks that climbing on to roofs was, in fact, not a great idea despite the bet they had made with their “friends”. On a good day, she got to help children pick out the colours for their plaster casts. 

Or take today. Today, she got to lecture a group of young people about the trials and tribulations of playing “run the bus” with 60% proof. Every day was just a little bit different so as to keep things interesting. That, she reminded herself, was something she had to remain glad about.

She sighed and threw the last wipe in the bin. Taking a last look in the mirror, she turned to her friend for reassurance that she looked at least passable. She caught her frown before Audrey realised Sarah could see her and quickly gave her a thumbs up. She did love her Audrey which is why she decided to repay her kindness by forcing a hug on her as a thank you.

“Silver lining, though,” Audrey said, shoving her away, laughing in protest. “You’re lucky you didn’t get any in your hair.”

“Yeh bastards had a good aim at least.” Sarah dusted down her arms one last time to check for anything she might have missed and the two of them left the locker room. The place was now eerily quiet, thank god. Just run out the clock and they’d be home and dry in no time, figuratively speaking in Sarah’s case.

Audrey placed a comforting arm around her pal. “You want me to find some spare scrubs? I’m sure they’ll have some upstairs. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Nah it’s OK. I’ll be done in 20. Just gotta sign Mr. Richardson out from cubicle 5 then I’ll run home and shower.”

“OK, well, if you have to hang around, avoid triage because you-know-who is there and I don’t want you ruining your chances again.” Audrey pinched Sarah on her hip and headed back to her work.

You-know-who was Greg Anderson, an attractive 30-something medic from a hospital on the other side of town. He was up-and-coming in Paediatrics apparently and had been shadowing a Consultant for the past few weeks. He was 6ft plus with dark hair and brown eyes and his father was something big in Economics in MIT. He drove a Porsche and wore Louboutin’s on his rounds which had Audrey practically foaming at the mouth. Indeed, he hadn’t bypassed the attentions of the majority of females in the ER, as well as a few men and even a couple of patients but as always, Sarah was solely focussed on the job at hand to pay him any heed. Audrey thought she caught him staring at her the other week, though, and made it her mission to set them up. She took great pride in playing matchmaker for her friend given that she herself got locked down nine years earlier and “it’s a damn shame to let these skills go to waste.’ She had somehow also managed to get Shan and Lisa onside, too, however that had happened.

Greg was handsome, she’d agree with that, and definitely her type in the right light but something was a little too Republican for her liking. Plus, he was a Rangers’ fan and Sarah swore blind early on in her life that she couldn’t bring children up in that kind of hostile environment. Sarah briefly contemplated walking past triage with the lingering scent now clinging to her clothes but as Audrey kindly repeated to her at regular intervals during the days, Greg was her only realistic prospect right now and figured it was perhaps better to keep her options open, at least for the time being.

Mr. Richardson was gone pretty soon afterwards and, accepting defeat for another day, Sarah grabbed her bag and headed home.

*

There was definitely beer left in the fridge, she was sure of it. She’d bought a six-pack at the weekend and could only remember drinking two during the Bruins’ game, so…

“Oh yeh, you’re out of beer.” 

Sarah turned around from the fridge to face a sheepish looking Chris holding the last frosted bottle in his hand, his ball cap low over his face attempting to hide the faint black circles under both his eyes. There was a 5 o’clock shadow forming now he wasn’t required to shave. As drained as she was, she briefly contemplated wrestling him to the ground for that last swig. He looked just as tired. She figured she could take him. At least he had the decency to look guilty about it.

“I’ll run out and get you some if you…Jesus! Why do you smell like a brewery?!” He practically recoiled holding his free hand to his nose.

Sarah rolled her eyes and grabbed a glass for some cold water instead. “Are you here to just annoy me or steal my beer as well?”

“Both now you ask but seriously, what have you been doing all day? You don’t usually smell this bad.” He joked.

“Oh, some kids took it in turns to throw up on me and I didn’t have any clean scrubs to change into.” She downed the water and went to fill the glass up again. God, she didn’t realise she was this dehydrated. Chris shot her a look of confusion. “It’s a long story. Is Shan around?” She shed herself of her scrub top and headed into her bedroom down the hallway, Chris casually following behind.

She had to pop out for something so I’m just handing here ‘til she gets back. You coming for dinner at Ma’s? She’s doing her famous lamb roast. Might wanna shower first, though.” He joked, playfully sticking his tongue out at her.

“God, I forgot how hilarious you are.” she overtly rolled her eyes at him. “No, I’m good. Just gonna head for an early night, I think.”

“OK, well, if you change your mind, we’re leaving in half an hour. You know she’ll make me drive back to get you otherwise.”

That was true. For as long as she’d known and lived with Shanna, Lisa had treated her like any other member of her family and Sarah had never fully grasped how much she had appreciated it, coming from where she did. Lisa knew Sarah’s folks weren’t as close by any more and compensated for this by inviting to every dinner night she held, every games night, school events, theatre events, and more besides. She spent Christmases with them, visited Disney with them, and had New Years with them on occasions she wasn’t working. Lisa even organised a surprise birthday get-together for her as well despite Shan’s protests that she wasn’t a birthday kind of person. Sarah had learned to stop feeling awkward or out of place soon after.

Once Shan told Lisa Sarah had wanted to start learning to play piano as a new year’s resolution, Lisa had insisted she could teach her whenever she had some spare time. There soon after followed afternoons of tea and gossip and not much playing of the piano but it felt comfortable and nice for the first time in a long time. Shan would make excuses so Sarah didn’t feel obligated to attend everything but in truth, she didn’t mind so much. It was nice to feel wanted.

Chris was lounging on her armchair with one leg over the armrest, messing on his phone. Sarah could count the number of times on one hand the nights he had spent in his own place since returning to Boston a fortnight ago. As true as it was that he rarely spoke about filming in any great detail, she could nevertheless tell he’d been left particularly drained by this particular experience and wasn’t looking forward to the reshoots scheduled for next month. There had been a rumour he’d started sleeping with his married co-star and she guessed Lisa had been mithering him about it hence him turning up on their doorstep last week. Other than one night back in his own bed, he had remained on their sofa ever since, clearly relishing in the familiar company.

“So what made those kids throw up?” Chris called out, still engrossed in his phone. A quick glance over his shoulder told her he’d been ignoring someone’s text messages.

By now Sarah was in her old yet comfy sweatpants and a Boston hoodie Shan had bought her as an anniversary present of her 5th year living there. “Um, Absinthe. The nasty kind.” She was gathering her washing together.

Chris whistled low through his teeth, a kind of “been there, done that”.

“Rookie mistake.“ he laughed to himself. He frowned at his phone before chucking it onto her bed and turned around in her chair to plant both feet on the carpet, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. He looked like he wanted to get something off his chest but was struggling to find the words. He was reluctant to drag Sarah into anything given how exhausted she looked. Despite their differences in careers, sometimes it felt like she was the only person he knew who could understand how long and tiresome the days could get. Then he would inevitably feel embarrassed he was out there only pretending to save lives when she was out there day after day actually living it for real in all of its bloody glory. And for a tiny fraction of his pay. He tried not to water than thought too much.

“I take it you know,” he asked quietly, still not looking up from her bedroom floor.

“Know what?”

“About Jenny?”

“Oh,” she paused for a brief second. He’d know straight away she was lying if she tried to play dumb. “I mean your mom might have mentioned something in passing,” she shrugged unconvincingly. He scoffed knowing she would have talk about nothing else since the rumours started gathering pace online. He knew he hadn’t done himself any favours by avoiding the conversation either but he simply couldn’t stand another lecture of disapproving look. Dinner tonight was to be his mea culpa.

Sarah was thankful when she heard the front door go and then the sound of Shan dropping her bags in the kitchen and heading towards Sarah’s room.

“I signed for this for you this morning while you were out.” she handed Sarah a brown envelope before turning to Chris with a hand on her hip, looking like she was scolding her 7-year old nephew. “Mom’s been trying to get hold of you all day. She wasn’t sure if she needed to lay an extra seat for you this evening. Sarah, she wanted me to make sure I couldn’t persuade you to come as well?” Sarah shook her head and held up her stained clothes and enjoyed Shan’s visible flinch.

“I’m not even going to ask.” She held her hands up and walked out. Chris rolled his eyes in mock imitation of Shan and Sarah smiled sympathetically, mouthing a “good luck” to him as he left trailing behind her.

Sarah was left looking down at the envelope in her hands. It looked very official; the kind you would receive if you’d been summoned to a court hearing or Jury Duty. She didn’t recognise the address or the stamp but recognised her home town almost straight away. It had been years since she’d been there. Why the hell were they dragging her back now?

*

[rosecorcoranwrites]

Editing Advice Part 4: Copyediting

Now that you have checked your WIP for continuity, addressed every plot hole, and finished all rewrites, it's time to put on the final touches by copyediting!

Now, just to be clear, the term "copyediting" usually refers to when an editor, not the writer, reads the manuscript looking for errors, and it actually does include a lot of continuity editing and fact checking. But this series is for writers editing their own work before another soul reads it (regardless of if the work will then be self-published or sent out to agents and editors). It is my belief that, for a writer, continuity editing should come long before the final stage of the editing process. Thus, for our purposes, I'm going to use "copyediting" to refer to correcting errors in grammar, spelling, punctuation, and other such things.

Obviously, this involves going through your manuscript with a fine-toothed comb, on the lookout for misspellings and typos. However, there are a few items to especially  watch for, roughly broken down into the categories of spelling; grammar, usage, and style; and punctuation, spacing, and everything else.

Spelling

Spelling of made-up or unusual words: If you write fantasy or sci-fi, odds are you're using at least a few words that don't exist in the regular lexicon. Make sure you use consistent spelling for these. This is especially true for different forms of said words. For example, I chose to spell "Lesse" in Lesse's Moor with and "e" at the end, which is easy to remember. Yet, when spelling the adjectival form of that word, I used either an "e" or "a": Lesserian and Lessarian. I had to choose one to use throughout. This goes for non-made-up words as well. "Empyreal" of the Empyreal Palace is a real word (it means celestial), but it's not like I've known how to spell it from my youth, so I still had to double check it every time I came across it to make sure it was spelled correctly.

British vs American spelling: If you spend a lot of time reading books from across the pond, you might have picked up some foreign spellings. As a child, I would always spell "gray" as "grey", because I liked it better, and to this day, that spelling sneaks into my writing from time to time. There are many such words in the English language that you should watch out for.

Hyphens: Make sure that you know which words are hyphenated, and that they are always hyphenated in your manuscript. Pay attention to height and ages: "six-foot tall",  "four-year-old" and so on. Keep consistent for made-up words as well. Will you use "mechano-magical" or "mechanomagical"? Whichever you choose, you have to use that spelling every time.

Homophones and similar words: You might think that this is dumb to mention, since you, of course, know the difference between all the homophones in the world, but that's irrelevant. I know the difference too, yet I mix them up all the time in my writing. Some people picture the spellings of words even as they speak, and I am not one of them. I know the difference between "their", "they're", and "there" like the back of my hand; I still write the wrong one about a third of the time. Why? Because when I write, I'm picturing how the words sound and, moreover, how the scene looks, not how the text will appear on the page. That's what copyediting is for. You can Google lists of commonly misspelled or mixed-up words, or write down your own list if you have certain words you personally get confused.

Grammar, Usage and Style

Subject-verb agreement: By the time you're at this stage of editing, your manuscript is likely a Frankenstein's monster of sewn-together old drafts, and that tends to lead to some weird grammar. Make sure your subjects and verbs agree. That means that if the subject is plural—they, policemen, the dragons, or whatever—the verb has to be one you use on plurals—were, know, have eaten. If the subject is singular—he, a policeman, the dragon—the verbs similarly have to match—was, knows, has eaten. If you're not too keen on grammar, read it out loud and see if it sounds right; even if you don't know all the proper grammatical phraseology, you know English and you'll be able to pick up on errors that you hear.

Writing out numbers or not: Generally speaking, for narrative prose, you should write out the numbers zero through one hundred. For larger numbers, 101 to infinity, you can use numerals, but some guides suggest that numbers ending in two or more zeros should also be written out: two hundred, five million, etc. But I think you can get away with writing out larger numbers as well, like three hundred seventy-three; it looks nicer to me. Whatever you choose to do with larger numbers, stay consistent. Special numbers like years and addresses, however, should be written in numerals: 221 B. Baker Street, 1984, etc.

Capitalization of titles of people: Obviously, if the the title comes right before the persons name, and is thus part of their name, it's capitalized: Queen Delilah, Doctor Mario, Professor Moriarty, President Coolidge. But what about when the title is by itself? Well, it depends on how you're using it. If the title is used to address the person, it's capitalized: "You saved his life, Doctor!" or "Well, Professor, it looks like your theory was wrong." Obviously special title have special addresses which are obviously capitalized: Your Majesty, Mr. President, etc. If, on the other hand, you are talking about the person, or the office in general, it's not (usually) capitalized: "The professor is getting on my nerves!", "That doctor is a quack", "The president has to be an American citizen". However, for certain fancier offices, if you are talking about a particular holder of that office, you do capitalize it. Now, I found a few competing sources on this, but from what I could figure, the only titles that work this way are Pope, King, Queen. Again, you have to be referring to a very specific person to do this: "The Queen has been slain!" "The Pope blessed the travelers". Some sources also said this could be done for the president's of countries, but other said not to, so... I guess pick which way you'll do it an stay consistent.

Punctuation, Spacing, and Everything Else

Extra spaces: Get rid of 'em. This included two spaces after a period (for us old people who learned that that was the correct way to type!) as well as space at the end of paragraphs, between two words, and so on.

Missing punctuation: Don't forget commas after opening phrases like "Well, you see..." or "Of course, I'd never say that," or when separating a name when being addressed: "Are you ok, Constance?". Double check that every paragraph has a period or closing quotation marks; somehow, these seem to disappear on me and I've never figured out why.

Smart quotes, … vs ..., and m-dashes: This is almost getting into formatting territory, but I'm going to include it here anyway. Depending on what word processor you use to write your WIP, there might be some differences in how certain characters are automatically formatted. For example, some programs will turn quotation marks ( " " ) into smart quotes, i.e., one that wrap toward the text and have different opening and closing characters ( “ ” ). Something similar happens to ellipses, which may be typed as three periods (...) but turned into a single character (…). Finally, there is the m-dash, that long dash used in a way similar to a colon. When you type it by itself, it typically looks like two dashes (--), but if you type a letter, then two dashes, then another letter with no spaces between, it turns into a single character (—). I'm in favor of all of these automatic changes, as they look nicer, but depending on where you typed what part of my WIP, they don't always happen. It's a good idea to go though your manuscript and add them in, or set your word processor to change them automatically.

Personal foibles: Finally, know thyself. Are there weird mistakes that you always tend to make? I myself tend not to use question marks (they are a silly punctuation mark and ought not exist!). I have to be careful to check that all of my questions are, in fact, marked as such. Maybe you tend to spell one particular word incorrectly, or are really bad at using commas. Know your weaknesses and make an effort to fix them while writing and catch them while editing.

Tips to Make Life a Little Easier

The greatest tip I can give you is to embrace your Find and Find/Change or Find/Replace functions of your word processor. You'll find these in your edit menu.

Find should be used to check homophones and commonly misspelled words. When editing, I'll Find the word "its" and go through my entire document to check each instance of this word to make sure it should not be "it's". then, I do the reverse, searching every instance of "it's" to make sure it should not be "its". I do this for each of the words that I, personally, confuse. Know thyself; if you never confuse "it's" with "its", don't bother checking it, but if you know that you often confuse "principal" and "principle", use the Find function. You can also use this to Find quotation marks and replace them with smart quotes if your word processor doesn't have the option to replace all quotation marks with smart ones at once.

And then there is my favorite, Find/Change. This should also be found in your edit menu, sometimes with the "Find..." feature and sometimes as a separate "Replace..." option. What Find/Change allows you to do is enter in some word, like, say, "Lessarian" and replace every instance of it with a new word, like "Lesserian". I use this to do a quick fix of made-up words and British to American spellings. I also use this if I have changed character and place names, so that I can replace every instance of, say, "Robert" with "Brother Roberto". It's also useful for catching double spaces, as you can Find "  " (two spaces) and Replace them with " " (one space). You can also replace two dashes with an m-dash or the three-character ellipsis with a single character ellipsis.

And with that, you'll have a sparkly new manuscript, ready for the eyes of agents, publishers, or—should you go the self-published route—your readers. Speaking of which, you self-pub peeps out there might need a bit of advice on formatting and proofreading. I just so happen to have some such advice! But it will take some doing (mostly in the form of screen shots), so that post will have to wait for a while. In the meantime, get to work polishing that manuscript! If you come across some weird editing issue and need particular advice, my email, Facebook messenger, and Tumblr asks and messenger are always open. Happy editing!

[teenaway860-blog]

Okcupid Profile Tips For Guys

The Only OkCupid Profile Tips You’ll Ever Need

Okcupid Profile Tip

Okcupid Profile Examples For Women

Okcupid Profile Tips For Guys

OkCupid is among the most well known dating sites around. It is additionally got a success that is good - every week We appear to be reading tales of males and women all over the globe that have discovered love on the website. (Read our expert. OkCupid Profile Examples For Men (Tips & Templates) OkCupid the most popular dating sites around. The first example is grammar errors in the bio. When a man's bio has spelling.

Other OkCupid profile tips lists pile on unimportant, biased suggestions. They don’t create real change in messages and dates. The truth is, few tips truly make a difference. These are the ones we’ll be sharing with you today.

#1 Think of Yourself as a Product

Now is the perfect time to set up your OkCupid profile—you’re just in time for Valentine’s Day, OkCupid is the only dating app with features like Discovery that show off who you really are, and now you have the tips you need to make a great profile! Check out all the video clips here. You'll want to set your profile as Non-monogamous. Once you do so, you will see and be seen by only other people looking for (or open to) a non-monogamous relationship. You will not see or be seen by people who have said that they are monogamous. We also encourage you to read our help page Non-Monogamy on OkCupid for more tips and tricks. Aim For Maximum Attractiveness In Your OkCupid Profile. OkCupid profiles are quite a bit different than other online dating sites like Plenty Of Fish and Match. Instead of one main “About Me” type introduction, OkCupid profiles consist of 9 main sections, with the ability to add more by choosing additional topics from the menu.

What are the best keywords to describe what “you” are? (Ex: An engineer? A creative? An athlete/fitness enthusiast?)

Second, what is the “consumer” getting if they “buy”? (Ex: Your contagious enthusiasm for life? A good listener? Interesting conversation about books? Boozy campfires? Raucous club outings?)

The answers to these questions should go into your written bio.

#2 Remember: Short and Light

Avoid the need to answer questions with filler text like “I’m not sure.” Rather, if you have nothing to say, don’t say anything at all. When you do answer, keep it brief — no rambling.

Also avoid the urge to air your grievances with women or past relationships. Negative language in profiles is an immediate red flag for most people.

That’s not to say you have to “pretend to be someone else” or never be emotionally vulnerable. It just means, for a first impression, you want to approach your profile with the same light and friendly tone that you’d ordinarily take with a total stranger.

#3 Test Your Pics on Photofeeler to Pick the Best Ones

OkCupid’s own data is clear: your pics are, by far, the most important aspect of your profile.

Your profile pictures color the tone of every word on your profile and every message you send. That is, a winky face may feel “cool” next to one photo but “over-eager” next to another.

And too many people unknowingly choose pics that are horribly unflattering to them.

I could give you 1,000 tips for getting the right OkCupid profile photos — but let’s face it — everyone’s different. What works for one doesn’t always work for another.

To be sure you’re not killing your chances with bad pictures, just test yours on Photofeeler.

Go to Photofeeler.com now and give it a try!

If you’ve dated online for any amount time, or even just have stable internet access, you’ve probably heard of OkCupid. At 14 years of age, the company is one of the older online dating services available and boasts a large membership. Unlike other apps and services on the market, OkCupid is all inclusive and isn’t targeted at a specific subset of the dating population, so the odds of your type of people being on the app are pretty good. And OkCupid claims that because of their matching algorithm, the odds of you finding that person in the millions of profiles on the service aren’t bad either.

This step-by-step guide will help you build an attractive OkCupid profile and teach you the ins and outs of the dating app, so you can find what you’re looking for. Let’s get started!

Step 1: Set up your account.

OkCupid is available on both mobile and desktop, so you have a little bit of flexibility on how you want to play. Go ahead and download the app on your mobile device or go to okcupid.com to get started. Like most other online dating services, you have the option to link your Facebook or sign up with an email address. Select either option to move forward.

After signing up, OkCupid will ask for some basic information including your gender (there are lots of options!), your gender of interest (lots of options here too!), your birthday, zip code, ideal relationship length, and a few other basic tidbits.

When you finish up with these, you’ll be able to customize your profile and start getting noticed.

Step 2: Pick your photos, write your bio.

Like most other apps, OkCupid has six photo slots and a short little bio section. There are enough tips to write an article for each, so I’ll spare the nitty gritty points and keep this portion more big picture.

For the photos, you’re going to want to make sure that you have six photos, and most, if not all, should prominently feature you smiling. The first photo should be a headshot in an interesting location like a forest, arcade or well-lit bar. Make sure to include at least one to two full-body shots. Keep the sunglasses and group photos to a minimum.

Okcupid Profile Tip

Photos are also a good opportunity to show off your hobbies and interests. If you’re into active sports of any kind (hiking, skateboarding, skydiving) this is a good way to share it. Active shots can give your profile an extra layer of personality that will help other daters find common ground and get a feel for you.

As for the bio, keep it short and sweet. Four or five sentences should do it. If you’re funny, this is a good place to crack a joke or two. If you’re not, that’s OK. Just write a bit about yourself, your passions, your hobbies, and anything else you think people might want to know. Use a bit of personal flare and keep it honest. The key here is to make readers feel like they’re meeting you for a casual chat.

Once you’re finished with the initial profile setup, you’ll have the option to answer additional prompts to spice up your profile. Look at these as fun bio supplements to touch on anything your bio might not have covered. It’s recommended to fill at least a few of these out.

Step 3: Answer the questions.

If you’ve made it this far, you’re in the final stretch! The last step to completing your profile are the basic questions. Each profile on OkCupid displays an estimated compatibility rate. These percentages are based on your answers to these questions, so be as thorough as possible. The basic questionnaire is 15 questions long and ranges from topics like politics to the tidiness of your room to the length of your last relationship. For each question, there’s an option to skip and there are options to select an answer preference for the person you’re interested in too.

If you’re doubting the accuracy of a compatibility rate calculated from 15 questions, that’s fair. Once the initial account setup is complete, you can answer more questions from your profile settings to increase the supposed accuracy of your match percentage. (And OkCupid will often ask you to answer more.) I’ve answered over 100 questions personally and new ones keep showing up in my profile section, so don’t worry about any shortage of these.

Step 4: Send out your likes.

Okcupid Profile Examples For Women

I’ll say it again: you can answer more questions and fill out more profile prompts once you finish the initial account setup. OkCupid recommends completing as many of these as possible to maximize your matches. Once that’s done, you can go ahead and start liking other daters and see who you match with.

Like most other apps, OkCupid’s runs on a mutual-like system, meaning two singles have to like each other before they can talk. (Or you can pay to see who likes you before you match.) There are also two different ways to go through matches. Using OkCupid’s DoubleTake format, you can swipe left or right like Tinder or Bumble for a breezy, low-investment level matching experience.

Alternatively, you can browse matches by scrolling through multiple profiles. In this option, you can open profiles and like and comment on specific prompts to reach out directly with a message. Even though the other person will only see your message if they like you first, this may be a better way to get noticed and can make you stand out from other daters who just like every person in their queue.

Step 5: It’s a match!

Once you get your first match, go ahead and start chatting. If the conversation goes well, don’t hesitate to ask your match on a date and see where it goes.

If you’re having trouble making matches, try answering a few more questions and tweaking the different profile elements to find a formula that works for you. OkCupid also keeps a list of all of the profiles you’ve liked in the past, so you can always go back and send messages after the initial like if they’ve liked you back. Don’t be afraid to ask your friends what they think of your profile for feedback. Soon, you’ll be on your way.

Step 6: Should you buy?

As always, the paid subscription route is a totally viable way to increase your chances at success if you choose to take it. Just keep in mind there are no limits to messaging or liking in the free version like on other similar services.

So, if you choose to go for the subscription, what are you getting yourself into? First, there are two different types of subscriptions: A-List Basic and A-List Premium. The A-List Basic let’s you access a list of daters who like you, use advanced search filters, search based on profile attractiveness, access message read receipts, and remove ads. The pricing plans begin at $9.95 for one month, $7,95 per month for three months, or $4.95 per month for six months.

A-List Premium offers all the same perks as the basic subscription with the addition of a daily Autoboost, which boosts you to the top of the match queue, increased attractiveness, which allows you to see and be seen by more attractive matches, the ability to see other profiles’ answers, and increased message priority. A Premium A-List subscription runs at $24.90 for one month, $22.90 per month for three months, and $19.90 per month for six months.

Okcupid Profile Tips For Guys

Well, that’s it. You’re now officially a master of OkCupid, one of the the most popular online dating sites. All that’s left is for you to get in there and start firing off those likes. Let Cupid do the rest.

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[lilnasxvevo]

I wrote an essay once when it was really late and I was really frustrated

I am not going to send it to my literary journal and I did not even hand it in for the class I wrote it for (the next essay I wrote was passable enough to submit) but I think it is kind of funny so I am going to share it with you

Zoom Zoom

           Draft number four of this FUCKING essay because I can’t FUCKING write. I just through out the last three because they sucked and excuse my language but I’m so frustrated at myself and I typed the wrong homophone in the last sentence and I went back and changed it but then I changed it back so you understand where I’m at right now because I NEVER!! MAKE!! SPELLING MISTAKES!! I was on the editorial staff of my high school newspaper for two years and that shit was flawless! I was editor in chief and that shit was free of god damn error! I do not make! Spelling mistakes!

           I’m so frustrated because part of me just wants to write about a motherfucking TV show and the rest of me is like, “No, Thomas, that’s so fucking stupid, write about something that’s serious, something people can take seriously, something people can respect, but NOT something boring” and I’m like OK!! WELL!! THAT’S A TALL ORDER YOU’VE GIVEN YOURSELF TOMMY BOY!!

           I’ve been trying to copy the style of the essays we’ve been reading in the last three drafts I just started and abandoned. I wrote…lets see…(I will be keeping all future grammar and spelling errors that I make) over 1300 words that way so far today. Fuck it!! I am going to be writing like ME and what I write like is a protagonist from a really sub-par young adult novel. I read a lot of those! But I was already like that before I read all those books. Actually most of the ones I read are pretty great. Holly Black, David Levithan, uh those Girl, 15, Charming but Insane books I forget who writes them but if I look it up I have to stop my timer and that is just not happening—check em out, they’re great. Oh, Eoin Colfer, too. I have his autograph! I actually also have David’s.

           I made a list of all the things I could write this essay about. I didn’t want to write about being queer again because I don’t want you people to pigeonhole me. There’s like 50 items on that list. I’ll spare you. The list sucks. I texted my best friend “What should I write this essay about” and she said “Roman Catholicism” and I was like “Maybe” and she was like “Vampires” and I was like “LMFAO you will never believe what I wrote last time spoiler it was vampires.”

           I have ADHD. Sometimes this surprises people! Sometimes it does not! Usually it doesn’t surprise other people who have ADHD because we go based on our lived experiences instead of stereotypes unlike SOME people. I was diagnosed when I was 17 which is super super late but they literally, and you can look this up, base most criteria off of the symptoms of little white cisgender boys, who are usually hyperactive, and I was inattentive type. My third grade teacher used to slap my desk with a ruler when I spaced out. She never brought up my attention issues to anyone else. I hated her. I still hate her. Curse you, Cathy Sellers!!

           I have chilled out on the caps lock because maybe that was kind of a gimmick. Ok. Well. The ADHD. I actually don’t remember why I brought up ADHD, which is classic ADHD. Oh. I think it was to say that maybe you will be surprised that the inside of my head is this giant mess. Not to be all “welcome to my twisted mind” or that edgy shit. Maybe I’m trying to make an embarrassing essay on purpose. The point is some people think I’m very composed and stuff and the inside of my head has never once been composed. Well, maybe a few times. I miss standardized testing because they don’t really matter and they were fun to focus on and it was fun to fill the bubbles in and they made me feel smart. I am smart. I promise I’m smart. Sometimes people think I’m dumb because I’m a trans man which I don’t understand but I promise I’m smart.

           I just slapped my face to try to get myself to wake up a little bit. I am wiped. That cold that’s been going around is kicking my ass, though not as bad as it’s kicking the ass of other students in this class who I have maybe potentially had to drive to the pharmacy this week.

           I am so obsessed with this show on BBC America right now called Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. In ADHD circles this is sometimes called a hyperfixation—it’s kind of like the special interests autistic people have, surprise surprise ADHD and autism are both developmental disorders and they have a lot in common. Dirk Gently is all I can think about. It’s a really great show and I loved it last season because it has the actor Samuel Barnett as the lead actor and I swore my fealty to him in like 2014 and then he got a lead on a TV show which is crazy because he never gets big roles like that so I was like NICE!!! Yeah, so last season was sci-fi, and the show is really great and it has this big diverse cast and all the characters are really interesting and the show never leans on stereotype instead of fleshing out a character as a unique person and there were electric crossbows last season that were designed by that Adam Savage dude from Mythbusters. So but this season, THIS SEASON, is SO good because apparently the show is planning on “switching genres” every season but with the same main cast so now they’ve been running around trying to find each other after everyone got separated at the end of last season (spoiler) and now they’re all in Montana and instead of sci-fi it’s FANTASY which is my FAVORITE. There’s another dimension that’s this great high-fantasy nation called Wendimoor and there’s a door between the valley of Inglenook and this one town in Montana for reasons that I refuse to explain, just watch the show. Ok and in Inglenook, there’s—it’s kind of sketchy how it works but there’s this guy named Panto Trost who has pink hair (his whole family has pink hair and it’s unclear if it’s genetic or if they dye it as a tribal marker or something, and when I first saw it I was like, HOLY SHIT, WHY DID I NEVER THINK OF THAT), and he’s the prince of Inglenook, and there’s this guy named Silas Dengdamor, who’s some kind of minor prince in Inglenook somehow, and THEY. ARE. A GAY INTERRACIAL HIGH FANTASY COUPLE. THEY ARE IN LOVE.

           And the guy who plays Silas, Lee Majdoub, he’s really active on Twitter and Tumblr, which is crazy because almost no one is active on Tumblr under their real name and it’s mostly just depressed young adults like me, but Lee fields questions about the show all the time and talks about how it was an honor to play a gay prince and he has so much love for Silas and he put so much work into this character which you can tell because he has an answer ready for everything. Has he ridden that train we saw? Is he gay or bi or what? What are his hobbies? If he lived in our world what would his favorite movie be? His five favorite songs? Does he agree with his family’s stance on the feud? (Oh my god I forgot to MENTION that the Trosts and the Dengdamors are TWO FAMILIES AT WAR, which makes Silas and Panto basically gay Romeo and Juliet, but hopefully they won’t die but Dirk Gently is a “don’t get attached” kind of show.)

           And did I mention he’s respectful??? My favorite answer he’s ever given is when someone asked him what it was like to kiss Chris Russell (the other actor), which is a question every fucking presumed-straight actor gets when they play a gay role, and since there is a 4 inch height difference between them, Lee answered something like, “It was a little weird because Chris is very tall, so I felt a little like Natalie Portman in Thor. Natalie Portman and I both have dark hair so we’re practically twins.” Also he is very handsome. It is important that Lee Majdoub is very handsome. Okay, it’s important to me.

           Wow, glad I got that off my chest. It’s kind of all I ever want to talk about. Two weeks ago, before I could do my actual writing assignment for the day, I had to freewrite about Kevin Spacey for like AN HOUR. What I wrote ended up being kind of unusable for this class thus far, I just haven’t been pleased enough with the way it handled a very sensitive topic to hand it in, but it was about Kevin Spacey and Jeffrey Dahmer and OUT magazine and news media and Anthony Rapp and me.

           I wanted to write about a historical figure for this paper but all the ones I could think of that I have a strong connection to were gay. While I was typing that sentence, I thought of Dorothy Parker. Well, shit. Another day, then.

           This paper is what we call a RISK!!! pleasedontfailme

           Here are some excerpts from the other three papers I tried to write today:

·         Sometimes I sing and dance in front of them. Sometimes I scream. One time, I stood on a desk.

·         The last time I told her I was proud of her I could only do it because she had consumed an obscene amount of wine and called me to talk about one of Shakespeare’s history plays

·         I am afraid that I am a husk a husk a HUSK a husK a husk a husk a husk of Corn-ell because

I promise these essays were not good. These were the only good parts. I wanted to include them because I wanted you to understand that I covered a lot of fucking ground before settling on whatever the fuck this is. I am sorry if you feel you would rather be reading one of those other essays, but I did not want to write them.

           I just scrolled back up to the top because I remembered abruptly that this essay doesn’t have a name. It’s called Zoom Zoom now. When my sister is bored while she drives, she says, “Zoom zoom! We’re zooming!” She is 24 and has a master’s degree. This particular catchphrase of hers always comes to mind when I try to describe how my brain works—childish, too fast, bored. Her boyfriend says “Brroom brroom” when he drives. I think he picked it up from her. He calls me Thomathy. Because Thomas can be Tom for short and Tom is like Tim and Tim is short for Timothy. Get it? He says “Thomathy” sounds like a disease. I think he likes me anyway. Even though one time during a heated game of Monopoly I told him I would eat chips at his funeral.

           I have three cats. One is ten years old, the other two are one. I have a rabbit. He’s a jerk. That’s all you need to know about me. Oh, I’m from Wisconsin. My favorite color is orange.

           Yeah so thanks for coming to my TED talk. Please buy a t-shirt on my way out, they’re $20. I know TED talks don’t usually have t-shirts but I want your money. Yes. Now scram.

  Are they gone?

Jesus, I’m so fucking tired.

[gaiatheorist]

Not-so-smart phones?

Flicking through the headlines, and generally trying to avoid anything with ‘Apocalypse’ in it, the first two I skimmed through related to mobile tech. I remember when we didn’t all have the internet in our pockets at all times, when ‘the internet’ was that one computer at school, that each class got about half an hour a month, to talk to another school. I remember when a ‘phone’ was either the house-phone, that your Mum would pick up the other extension on, and listen to your “No, you hang up...”, or various public telephone boxes, where you needed a handful of change, and to avoid the smack-head waiting to call their dealer.

The kid didn’t have a smart-phone until he went to Uni, he’d been using the same mini-brick he’d had since he was 12, topped-up with £10 credit about twice a year. He didn’t open a Fakebook account until he was 16. That’s not my CEOP-training, or my Safeguarding head, he went through the swearing-at-strangers-on-Xbox-live stage, and I think he uses Steam to chat to his mates. ‘I think’, Gods, I’m one of those dinosaur-parents, who doesn’t actually know what their child is doing. I’m not overly concerned, he leaves his laptop open, and his phone and tablet lying about, there’s no element of concealment to indicate there’s anything he wouldn’t want me to know about, so I don’t try to look.

(My head’s doing that then/now thing it does sometimes, I’m amused by the thought of time-travelling back to my teenaged self, and not being able to immediately search any given thing, instead of going to the library to look it up.)

The kid hasn’t been kept in a cupboard under the stairs, he’s sort of come-of-age during this period where the instant-internet is normal, to the extent that we both get exasperated when the connection glitches, and we can’t watch TV-from-everywhere over the broadband at the same time as we both have several devices connected to various other apps. (Look at that, ‘apps’ doesn’t flag on spell-check any more.)

Smart/stupid link on spell-check, there, and my bubbling rage when Fakebook people just let anything that isn’t underlined go. Just because it IS a word, doesn’t mean it’s the right one. That’s another rage-bubble I need to work on, because it’s able-ist, It doesn’t matter that spelling and grammar errors make me twitchy, but it does sort of loop back around to the point of this ramble. In 2003, when I started working as an SEN teaching assistant, I was assigned to a group of students who had been removed from their GCSE English class. Not a disruption-removal, they’d been removed from the bottom-set English class because they couldn’t read. Rolling back my ridiculous memory, they were all in the Moderate Learning Difficulties category on the SEN ‘register’, I had four regular ‘MLD’ students, and occasionally the SpLD lad with the ‘Specific Learning Difficulty’ of dyslexia. Oh, sometimes I had the boy with Asperger’s and ADHD as well, but only if one of the MLD boys was absent, because if you put them in the same room they fought. That was how SEN students were catered for back then, the weakest students were removed from the mainstream class, and plonked in a room with a teaching assistant (being paid thruppence ha’penny an hour to teach the curriculum.), because that was a more effective use of resources than the teacher having to spend half the lesson trying to ‘keep them on task’. (More accurately, trying to stop them masturbating under the desk, or falling off their chairs again.) 

‘Teaching’ four children who couldn’t actually read, without a degree, or a teaching qualification. I know, brilliant, isn’t it? 

Rambling. My point was that the particular learning difficulties those children had led to a LOT of pick-the-first-word-spellcheck-suggests essays. The kids had no real clue what most of the words said, and “Look it up in the dictionary.” was never an effective solution, they couldn’t ‘look it up’, BECAUSE they didn’t have enough of a grasp of spelling to even know what the word started with. English is awkward like that. (Saw one of them on a bus a few days ago, so at least one of them managed to survive to the age of nearly-30.) Back-then, they didn’t have mobile phones, and I doubt they had the internet at home. (Some of them didn’t appear to have washing machines, or parents with the ability to use one, anyway.) 

Back to the present, ALL the kids have mobiles, and it’s a rare house that doesn’t have ‘the internet’. Even the in-laws have ‘the internet’ now, although what they actually have is permission to use next door’s broadband password. (Which they probably have written in a book somewhere.) Fantastic, virtually every piece of knowledge humanity has ever acquired, at our fingertips, all the time. (So we use it to start fights, and look at pictures of cats.) The news is accused of dumbing-down to reach a wider audience, ‘exams are getting easier’, ‘university students are buying essays online’, and now, the fact-checking thing. As much as we have an element of society that will always pick the first word on spell-check, we also have an element that will believe the top-result on any given internet search. (Even when it’s a bloody advert.) The woman in whichever-African-country who thought her phone could scan her fingerprint and provide ‘the answer’ to whether she had AIDS. Scary world, people.

Even more scary is the man in Ohio, who live-streamed himself murdering a stranger. In the olden days, we wouldn’t have known about that as-it-happened, we would have had to wait for a printed newspaper to tell us about it the next day. We didn’t have 24-hour-television-news back then, an emergency broadcast was a very rare thing, but generally meant the death of a member of the royal family, not the apocalypse. Now? Now we’re so used to the ‘breaking news’ banner popping up, that it barely even registers. That desensitisation is a protective mechanism, because if we all read all of the news all of the time, we WOULD go completely insane. Our bubble-worlds, and the repeated articles about ‘digital detox’ are a strange reflection of how saturated we’ve become by the ‘connectivity’ that’s crept into our ‘normal’. 

I’m smirking at myself, the smart-phone that never leaves my side is pretty much never used as a phone. I looked at the call-time total on it a few weeks ago, and I’ve used 16 minutes. I’ve had the phone over a year, and the TOTAL talk-time on it is 16 minutes. I don’t talk, I type. My phone is a camera, to record stupid-shit-I’ve-done, and a calendar/reminder, alarms all over the place, to remind me to eat, or take medication, or put trousers on. My phone is effectively my ‘carer’, but that’s not why I have a gripping phobia of dropping it and breaking it. We ‘all’ have that, don’t we? The panic when you tap the pocket where your phone should be, and it isn’t? The Fear of Updates, battery-panic, and that subconscious thing we all do where we know where the signal-dead-spots are. We’re not scared of being eaten by a sabre-toothed tiger any more, we’re scared of being without wifi. 

There’s no real point to this one, I’m not going on a digital detox, because I barely ‘connect’ with anyone. I’m aware that two messages came to my phone last night, but I’m not breaking my neck to respond to one of them. (Fakebook fact-checking-man pointing out that I’m ‘quiet’, and asking me if I’m OK, I’ll lie to him later, because my sleeping patterns are out-of-synch with most humans, and his wife HATES me, I don’t want to ‘ping’ his phone and start some sort of domestic between them.) That’s the other thought-stream on this, I’m deliberately keeping my head down on Fakebook to disengage from ‘work’. The union lady said this would happen, that the longer I was off, the less people would try to engage with me. “You’ll be able to tell which ones were your real friends, because they’ll keep in touch.” That’s a most-people rule, though, it doesn’t apply to me