#if you're on my blog you've heard it before. not new information

[agueforts]

why did i go so long without ever watching adventuring academy. who let me do that

[cc--2224]

Late Night Caf

Pairing: Tech x Jedi!Reader

Summary: From the ask found here; You were recently made a jedi knight and as your first assignment, you were placed with Clone Force 99. A sleepless night on the Marauder turns into late nights watching Tech work.

Warnings: A ton of fluff!!! Brief mentions of insomnia?

Notes: Thank you for the request and I'm sorry it took so long!! As a reminder, requests are open if you'd like to make one!

Word Count: ~2.1k

Tags: @lady-violet @booksandtitts-blog

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future fics!

It hadn't been long since you had gone through the trials to become a Jedi Knight. With the war in full swing, there was a need for knights more than ever, so while you didn't feel ready, you were able to pass.

You were given your first assignment almost immediately following your appointment. You were to accompany a squad of clones on their missions.

It was easier than being assigned to an entire battalion, but when you heard some of the other clones' comments about the squad you were assigned to, you began to feel anxious.

Clone Force 99 had a reputation of not following the rules and doing things their own way. They weren't like the clones you had gotten to know during your time as a padawan, and that intimidated you – not that you'd let anyone know.

On the day you were meant to meet them, you stood in wait on the landing platform in front of the Jedi temple. They were late. You sighed to yourself and did everything you could to avoid pacing. In fact, you could almost hear your former master's voice echoing in your head, telling you to be patient.

Finally, you saw their ship approach. It landed on the platform rather harshly but by now you were just ready to meet them, rather than criticize their flying ability.

When the four of them disembarked their ship, you had to do a double take. Not only did their reputation define them as unlike most clones, but so did their appearance.

You looked at each of them from right to left, starting at the tallest one.

"You must be the new general!" He said, his voice echoing across the platform.

"Oh no, I'm no general, just a jedi," you corrected. "What can I call you?"

He grinned, "Wrecker."

"Nice to meet you, Wrecker." You told him, then looked at the next one, the one with a tattoo covering half of his face.

"Hunter." He informed you before you could ask. "What should we call you? If you're not a general."

"You can call me by my name." You told him before providing them your name.

The next clone looked down at you with a sour expression on his face. A crosshair tattoo adorned his right eye, and a toothpick was slotted between his lips.

"And you are?" You asked.

"Crosshair."

He said nothing else, instead just stared at you before your attention shifted to the final clone.

"I'm Tech." He said before you could ask, adjusting the goggles he wore.

Your gaze lingered on him longer than you had intended, before you looked away, growing embarrassed.

It wasn't like you to be bashful, and yet looking at Tech seemed to erase any confidence you had. You didn't speak; all you could do was give him a small smile and a nod before Hunter spoke up again.

"Now that we've been introduced, I'm sure that you have questions."

"I've heard reports about your squad, how much of it is true?"

"Hah! All of it, I bet!" Wrecker said, a bit too enthusiastically.

"Depends on what you've heard." Hunter added.

"I have read the reports that come through regarding our squad. Most of them are accurate," Tech began, then held up his datapad to gesture to the reports he had available. "However, some disciplinary reports come through with slight embellishments. We do not start every fight."

"Usually finish them, though." Crosshair adds in with a shrug.

"Despite the reports, you will face no difficulty to fulfill your duties, and we will ensure your safety remains a priority."

You smiled at Tech's reassuring tone, and soon the others started boarding the ship once again.

"If that was your only question, c'mon up, we'll give you the tour." Hunter offered as he walked up the ramp. You followed after him with Tech following behind you.

– – –

Your first night in the Marauder was strange, and unfortunately, sleepless.

You could never fall asleep comfortably in a new place. You had this problem as long as you could remember. It was a hindrance on all the planets you visited with your master as a padawan, he had tried to teach you meditation techniques to help with insomnia, and you used them, but the unknown always kept you awake.

You used to joke about how it was residual anxiety from when you were first brought to the temple as a toddler, but the council was not very pleased when they heard that joke.

After giving up on your meditation, you decided to roam the ship silently. You exited your bunk and walked through the empty corridor, now much more quiet than it had been when you were first shown around. The only sound that could be heard was the hum of the engine and the muffled snores of one of the clones.

You walked toward the cockpit and the door wooshed open, revealing that you were not the only one still awake.

Tech turned around in the pilot's chair to see who was there, and he raised an eyebrow when he noticed it was you.

"It is late, you should be asleep." He chided.

"What about you?" You countered.

"I am often awake much later than the others, this is the best time to focus on any tasks I need to complete."

It sounded like he was hinting that he'd prefer to be alone right now, so you turned back toward the door.

"You do not have to leave, if you do not wish to."

You looked over your shoulder. "I thought you wanted silence?"

"Yes, however you are much more quiet than my brothers. You are welcome to stay."

A smile tugged at your lips, and you crossed the cockpit, sitting down in the co-pilot seat next to him. He was typing into his datapad, and there were open crates next to him.

"Inventory." He explained, noticing you raising your eyebrow. "I am just about finished."

After a few moments, he turned and closed the crate before standing up to put it back where it belonged.

When he sat back down in the chair, he swivelled the chair to face you.

"So, why are you still awake?"

You shrugged, "I've always had a hard time sleeping in new locations."

"Is that not difficult considering you are a jedi?"

"Only when I go to new planets. It's not like I never sleep, I'm just most comfortable with places I know."

"I suppose that makes sense. Eventually, you will get accustomed to the ship."

He turned back toward the console and began to tinker with some of the panels, unscrewing the plates and fixing the wiring beneath them.

You watched him as he worked. Your eyes trailing from his hands delicately holding the tools he needed, toward his arms; his armor had been discarded so you could see the way that his undersuit wrapped around his muscles– he looked much stronger without his armor, and eventually up to his face; his look of concentration behind the goggles he wore, his lips pressed in a firm line.

You were mesmerized watching him work. There was something about him that was so inviting and comforting. You wanted to get to know him better, but you weren't sure how that would be possible.

As you continued to watch him, you didn't notice yourself beginning to drift off to sleep in the co-pilot chair. The engine humming and the quiet whir of the hydrospanner must have lulled you into a place of comfort. Tech glanced over at you once, noticing your arm perched on the armrest, holding your face in your hand, your eyes closed, and your breathing steady.

He quietly said your name, checking if you had really fallen asleep, and when you didn't answer, he smiled slightly to himself before standing up. He gently scooped you into his arms and brought you back to your bunk.

– – –

Late nights spent with Tech had slowly become the norm during your time with Clone Force 99.

Even after you had gotten used to life on the Marauder, it had just become a habit to sit with Tech as he worked long after his brothers had gone to sleep.

Tech didn't question it, he seemed to enjoy being able to ramble on about his latest projects, even if he had to take a break from them on several occasions to bring you to your bed after you had fallen asleep in the chair next to him.

One evening, you had left your bunk and stopped at the caf machine before making your way to the cockpit.

You left a mug in front of Tech before sitting down next to him with yours in hand.

"Oh, thank you." He said, reaching out and eagerly sipping the hot beverage. He glanced over to you, noticing the mug in your hand. "You do not wish to be carried back to your bunk this evening?"

You felt your face heat up slightly. You were mortified when he told you about that, and the fact that it had happened multiple times, and it had never become less embarrassing. His teasing tone did not do well to ease your embarrassment.

"Really, I do not mind," He said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You shook your head and took a drink from your cup without answering him.

Silence soon overtook the room. You looked out the viewport, watching the stars as they passed, and Tech continued drilling into a panel, fixing something that likely wasn't even malfunctioning to begin with.

He said your name, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you looked over at him, his focus remained with what he was working on.

"I have been wondering. Are you still uncomfortable being here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You had told me that you had trouble sleeping until you were comfortable, and you still spend most nights out here despite the time in which you have spent with us." He looked over at you now. His expression was new to you. His normal confident demeanor had seemed almost sad. There was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. "If you are not comfortable, you can request a transfer. None of us would be offended."

You offered him a reassuring smile. "I don't want to transfer, Tech. I'm comfortable here."

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "You are?"

"Of course. Why do you think I fall asleep so easily out here? You make me feel comfortable and safe."

His head snapped back to what he was tinkering with, trying to hide his flushed face from you.

After a moment, he spoke again. "I see. I am glad for that, then. It would have been... regrettable if you had chose to leave."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

His jaw clenched slightly. You could feel the tension as soon as you asked, but eventually, he sighed.

"I just meant that I would feel responsible if, after all this time, we did not make you feel welcome." His tone was resigned, and you knew there was something hiding behind it.

Part of you had hoped that what he was hiding was in line with what you had felt since the first time you had met him, and you figured now was as good a time as any to finally talk about it.

"Tech." You began. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, but you did all you could yo avoid focusing on your anxieties. "I don't think either of us are very good at this, if I had to take a guess. But I... Enjoy spending time with you, I have ever since the first night I spent here. I would not choose to leave the squad, I wouldn't choose to leave you."

He stared at you wide-eyed. This may be the only time that you'd see Tech completely speechless.

In his silence, you stood from your chair, setting your mug down on the console and quietly stepping toward him.

You reached out a hand, gently resting it on his cheek and tilting his head up to look at you before you moved in and kissed him softly.

His hands hesitated before one of them held your free hand, squeezing it gently as he deepened the kiss.

You smirked at him. "Maybe it's a good thing that I was placed with your squad then. You don't follow rules either."

Before long, he broke the kiss but stared up at you, finally speaking, "I did not know you felt as such. I thought that the jedi had... rules to follow, that they could not..."

[babyjakes]

false god. [blurb.]

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | june '23 ari-themed blurb night

summary | you might just get away with it, the alter is your hips. he'll worship this love.

pairing | sex god!ari levinson x innocent!virgin reader

warnings | err this is long but whatever. one (1) bad taylor reference. sex god!ari (he's his own warning). awakened daddy kink. innocent!virgin!reader (who maybe knows exactly what she's doing lol). mentions of foreplay. stretching. loss of virginity (not graphic or bloody). soft ari turns to strict daddy dom. one (1) spank. choking. little bit of hair pulling. some praise and degradation. i want him i need him he's my whole world—

word count | 967

requested by @foxgloveprincess | what do you think sex god ari would do when after he going out one night, he meets a shy, virginal reader who instantly get his attention. then, when they get home and are getting hot & heavy, she accidentally reveals her daddy kink (in this scenario, ari’s never been called a ‘daddy’ before—which i know sounds ludicrous but still). new kink awakening? or a refusal because he’s so much more? all while ruining her. 🫣

an | ahhHhhHHH omg rach this is so so so brilliant thankyou for this amazing idea!!! i LOVE this ari, he never knew he needed to be a daddy until he heard that single word from such a precious, innocent sweetheart, i hope you enjoy what i did with this!!!

Ari's body is hot and heavy over you as his bare skin brushes against yours, hips rolling slowly as he teases his massive length over your virgin cunt. As he holds himself up, looking down over you as the sliver of moonlight shining in through the window illuminates your tender face, he can't help but pause for a moment, reaching up to cup the soft curve of your chin as he takes in your beauty. "Jesus, sweetheart," he curses under his breath. He's a well-experienced man; you're both well aware of this fact. But looking at you right now, with your soft locks of hair tangled against his pillow below your head, you've got him thinking you're the prettiest little thing he's ever managed to coax through his door.

His tip teases your entrance as you whimper weakly. You're so tiny and tight down there; you could barely take a single finger earlier when he opened you up on his couch, trying to help you prepare for this moment. "Just breathe, angel," the gentle man murmurs over you, stroking your cheek as he continues working the head of his cock against your swollen little clit. You hum sweetly, the sensation sending little sparks of pleasure surging through your core. Ari smiles as he sees you relaxing for him. "That's my girl," he praises as he tells you, "Now I'm just going to start easing it in, okay baby? Keep breathing, and tell me if you need me to slow down or stop."

As soon as he starts working his length inside of you, your whimpers return as you strain against the mattress beneath you. It's a struggle to manage even the tip, as he's not just long, but also incredibly thick. "Shhh," Ari tries to soothe you, still stroking your cheek with his thumb as he goes at a slow, careful pace. "Doing so good for me, pretty girl. Just relax, keep breathing," he reminds you as he continues opening you up.

As he works to fill you with more of him, you feel a harsh stretch beginning to pull at your insides. You cry out in a confused haze of pain and pleasure, the word escaping your lips before you even realize what you're saying— "Daddy..."

Ari stiffens against you, his jaw locking in a stern expression as he groans, "Fuck, baby. What'd you just call me?" His hand trails down to grab at your tit, causing you to squeak lightly in pleasure. A bead of sweat forms on the man's forehead. You're driving him absolutely crazy. And after the word that just slipped from your mouth, he doesn't know if he can temper himself for much longer. He gropes your breast more harshly before reaching back up, grabbing your chin to force you to look up at him. "Tell me," he commands, his voice now void of the patience he was working so hard to manage previously.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes. Behaving like this, after such a dirty little slip-up, you're only making things worse for yourself. "P-please Ari," you whimper sweetly.

His eyes narrow. That's not what he was asking for, and you both know it. His hand comes down to close around your throat as he raises an eyebrow at you, his face darkening as he tells you, "I'll give you one more chance. 'Please' what, angel?"

"Please... please Daddy," you sniffle as his massive fingers close in around your poor throat. When he smiles, you see something hell-like sparkling in his eyes before he rips out of you, grabbing you by the waist and flipping you over onto all-fours. "Daddy!" you cry into the pillow below you as his large hand comes up to admire your rounded ass.

"Hush now, pretty baby," Ari murmurs as he positions himself at your entrance, holding your hip in place for himself with one hand as the other guides his throbbing cock to your dripping heat. "Since you wanna be such a filthy little slut, Daddy's gonna fuck you like one. Do you understand?" he asks. When your only response is more muffled whimpers and moans, he cracks his hand down harshly against your bare bottom. Tears burst from your pretty eyes as you let out a sob. "I said, do you understand?" he growls again, grabbing you by the hair and yanking your head back to look up at him.

"Y-yes! Yes Daddy," you cry through your tears. Ari can't help but think that you're even more beautiful when you cry like this. His ruined angel, his perfect little toy to wreck and ruin as he pleases. This is all too good to be true, and he knows he would be foolish to treat you with any less than the brutal punishing you're so clearly in need of.

"Good girl," he hums as he begins pushing himself inside of you, the feeling of fullness so intense that your knees tremble, threatening to give out. "Now just try to keep yourself upright, angel, but don't worry if you can't— Daddy will hold you up; Daddy will do everything for you. Don't need to worry about a single thing except laying there and getting fucked. Okay, sweetheart? Do you understand?"

You nod eagerly this time as he continues pushing into you, letting out a heavy groan as his tip finally reaches your ceiling. "There," he breathes, working himself in and out a few times to get you accustomed to his incredible size. "Now hold on tight, little girl," he grins as he pushes you down by the small of your back, getting ready to pound into you like a good daddy should. "Daddy's gonna take what's his now, and you're gonna give it all to me."

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c31. preview.

They got new information about the mission. First of all, the Serbian group was talking about transportation. They were talking random numbers, they all suspected drugs. 160 grams per unit, 663 grams per unit. They started wondering which substance they were talking about, since the shipping was intended to reach different countries, and it was going to be pricy. One hundred thousand per unit. Cocaine, meth? 

It all happened so fast, one random Tuesday at 5pm. Honey tapped his hand on the desk three times, she immediately turned around, getting tangled in her headphones. Roman spilled some tea in the attempt of running from his desk to Honey's. 'Shit shit shit', someone whispered.

'No way, Jude is Alba?'

'No fucking way, it's her you've been seeing?'

'What do you mean, you're going out with her?'

Before he could register the immense mistake he had made, he heard a voice. A sweet, sincere voice. He heard the voice he normally heard in his dreams, in his mind. The two men were soon forgotten, she was coming his way. 'Hey!' She shouted. She stood in the middle of the hangar, making a few men turn towards her. Her, in all her grace, her dark aura, her aura of power and knowledge. She looked pale, she looked… she was crying? She looked scared. Watching all three soldiers stop and look at her, she signalled them to follow her with a single nod of her head. Come with me, that was the signal. 'All three' she said.

They followed like they were some damn dogs.

notes: full chapter on Saturday.

taglist:

@ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐ BLUE MONDAY

[ ACT III: KNOWING, WANTING ]

ethan landry x reader

#SYNOPSIS— you facetime someone first and you hate it, ethan can't tell when you're joking or serious, and you really hate richie's style.

#CONTAINS— murder!, gore!!!!, satire (!!), familial issues (implications of abuse), mentions of anxiety/ptsd, richie x reader (heavily one sided), stalker behavior!, fake dating, richie (yes, he needs his own warning), suggestive content

#AUTHORSNOTE— i'm so sorry for such a late update and the lack of activity on my blog, my mental health took such a plummet.

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III

the low hum of the computers in the radio studio and the soft sound of music paying through the control room speakers were the only sounds you heard as you spun around in your chair. a clean spotify playlist— something you weren't supposed to technically use for radio, but your station manager used it, so who cares? — played soft music on air as you waited patiently for your last song to end.

humming softly to yourself, you scrolled mindlessly through social media, taking in the last few days of relaxation you had until you finally began with you and ethan's little plan.

reluctantly date richie. gather information. get the fuck out and give it to the police.

and if all else fails? well, you'd kill him (something ethan was surprisingly not that disturbed with. talk about sibling rivalry.).

you hadn't spoken to either of them ever since sunday, when you and ethan formulated your little plan at an aesthetically pleasing botanical cafe.

the music came to a slow end, and you paused the playlist before turning on your mic. "that was my last song of the night. remember; variety hour with blackmore university radio's music manager— which is me, if you've been paying attention —is every thursday from 9 to 10. good night, new york." and with that, you returned the radio on auto play, allowing it to bleed into a few promos.

the radio and studio office was dark at this point, lacking any form of life other than you. with an entire radio station being led only by college students, it was common for everyone to be gone by the time 6 pm hit.

but you were a bit of a masochist. so here you were, doing your mandatory radio show in the ambiently lit studio and office of your station. it smelled of soft lavender from the plug-in wall scent one of your co-workers put up, and the only lights came from the lamps and soft yellow light that was put in to replace the fluorescent white that you swore made days go by longer.

your headphones were over your ears, one of them pushed back behind your ear to allow yourself to hear the outside world (you had to be cautious nowadays). pulling your tote bag over your shoulder, you locked the studio door behind you and closed up the station. and as you walked down the dimly lit stairs to the exit, you half listened to the echoing of your footsteps as you shut the door behind you.

fall was your favorite season. not just for the fact that the weather was a perfect mix of not too hot and not too cold, or that it was the last few months before you fell deep into procrastination due to the lack of sunshine, but it was because it was always so beautiful. red and browns, yellows and oranges, all painted on once-green leaves before they fell.

the crunching of the leaves below your feet as you began to walk back to your dorm was soothing behind the autumn playlist (which you had carefully curated, of course) you were listening to. and it would've gone on like that for the entire walk home. the same walk you did every thursday without fail, when barely anyone was out and about on campus and when it was only you and whatever weather there was that evening.

but you could feel someone watching you.

as though someone had poured water down your back, your skin prickled and the hair on your body stood up as your walking suddenly came to a stop. pushing your headphones down around your neck, you dared to look behind you.

nothing. nothing but the darkness of the rest of the campus, barely lit by the flickering street lamps. the light from the lamp you were standing next to bled into nothingness, revealing practically nothing to your eyes.

your hands dug into your pockets as you grabbed your phone, swallowing thickly as you dared to stare deeper into the night. deeper into the darkness you stared.

and then you dared to turn back ahead of you, walking with a stride quicker than how you usually walked. step by step, shoes crunching in the leaves as you briskly walked, keeping your chin up in faux confidence, as though you weren't hearing another pair of footsteps walking in the same exact pace you were.

and then you came to a sudden halt.

and you heard the extra footstep from someone that certainly wasn't you.

and you began to walk faster. step. step. step. feeling those heartless and emotionless eyes staring in to the back of your head much like you had stared at the back of your father's head. hungry. blood thirsty. desperate to feel the warm crimson on your skin.

you could hear them breathe. heavy and warm, excited and thrumming with adrenaline because it felt as though you were paying attention to them. you were finally reacting to them in the way they wanted you to; by running away in fear.

you pulled out your student id card, slamming it against the card reader before opening the door to your dorm building and shutting it behind you, chest heaving as you tried to compose yourself.

you went to the elevator, slamming on the button to get you up to your dorm room.

your feet walked briskly on the hallway as you made a beeline for your dorm room, hands trembling as you found yourself disassociating, barely showing any emotion at all if it weren't for your shaking hands. but as you were pulling out your key, you saw the flower on the ground.

lilies of the valley. your favorite.

looking up and down the hall, you grabbed it hastily and you unlocked the door, shutting it behind you and letting out a breath. staring down at the flowers, you pulled out a single note with a heart drawn on it in crimson red ink.

"fuck," you breathed, shaking your head as you walked into your room and locked it behind you, throwing the lilies into the trash as you swallowed thickly.

who else could have done this? who else in your life was most likely to follow you like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

richie.

he was stalking you. richie was fucking stalking you.

you grabbed your phone, scrolling before you found a contact, clicking facetime on it and waiting patiently as you tried to clam the harsh beating of your chest. once, it rang. then twice. then three times, and you almost reached over to hang up, if it weren't for the face that the little sound came out of your phone speaker, signaling that he actually picked up.

"hello?" ethan said, his face squished by his pillow as he peered into the phone screen. "you actually called me. i never took you for a facetime person, but uh—"

"is richie there?" you hissed, almost scared to raise your voice as you paced your room frantically. your hands moved on their own as you took your ring off of your finger and began to run it over your knuckles.

back and forth. back and forth.

"no, i don't think so— what's going on?" ethan sat up in his bed, voice hushed low as he looked down at you. you were moving— he could see it —and he looked haphazard as he stared at you through the phone. protectiveness striked at his chest again as ethan gripped his phone tighter. "y/n, what's going on?"

"ethan, he's stalking me," you hissed, panic evident in your tone as you tried to compose yourself.

back and forth. back and forth.

"i— i was walking home from work and i swear to god, e, it was him. and he probably left these fucking flowers at my door too." you flipped the phone camera to show ethan the trashed flowers. "i'm not having second thoughts or anything, but if i have to deal with his stalking it's honestly just gonna be a pain in my ass—"

"you're not having second thoughts?" ethan ran a stressed hand through his hair, breathing out a heavy exhale. "jesus, y/n, if i were you i wouldn't even pull through with this shit."

"good thing you're not me then, huh?" you swallowed thickly, walking to your bed and throwing yourself onto it, letting your back hit your mattress. raising your phone so that ethan could see your face clearly.

you hated facetiming people.

"okay, that's all," you stated, as though letting him know that his brother was a stalker was just the most casual thing in the world. "i'm hanging up now."

"w—wait!" ethan said hurriedly right before your finger pressed the bright red button. face dusted light pink, ethan looked over your (once again) unreadable face. "can we.. stay on call?"

"no." you blinked. "why would we?"

"because i'm basically sleeping in an apartment with a stalker-murderer!" ethan hissed, voice coming down to a harsh whisper as the sound of the apartment door opening and closing rang in his ears. "i don't want to be, like, attacked in my sleep or something."

"he's not gonna attack you when quinn is there," you stated bluntly, finger still hovering over the big red button. "even if he does suspect something. you'll be fine." and you almost pressed the red button again. almost.

"y/n," ethan groaned, letting his free hand cover his face. you were so stubborn, so brutally honest, and yet ethan found himself not even minding it as he practically pleaded for you to just stay on call with him. "just.. just stay with me for a bit, okay? promise you can hang up once i fall asleep."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "do i look like a guard dog to you?"

"you basically act like one."

you stared at ethan, practically challenging him silently as he stared right back at you with those warm hazel eyes. "please?" he added, making you suck in a breath as you huffed.

"..fine."

an appreciateive smile spread on the boy's face as you set your phone down, murmuring a half hearted, "i'll be back," as you went to do your skincare routine and get ready for bed. "don't die," you added before you shut your room door behind you.

bad joke.

you washed your face, letting your hands move slowly down your face as you let out a long sigh, feeling your continuously tense shoulders relax. staring at yourself in the mirror, you found your face blurring into the background, melting into your bathroom walls, features seeping into the tile, melting into the grout.

you stared at yourself in the reflective one way mirror, face blank, pupils constricted as your reflection stared back at you. it felt like you were floating far above your head, unable to anchor yourself in the present.

the voice of the detective felt like someone was speaking to you from underwater. his voice was so garbled, so muffled, you could barely comprehend it. “y/n. you have to at least say something.”

but what was there to say? that you mashed up your father’s brain and liked it? that was a bit straightforward. and only a little bit too guilty.

what were you doing? you were putting yourself into the same position you were in those few years ago; a position of danger, playing a victim just to feel the satisfaction of watching someone’s life melt from their face. and that satisfaction didn’t come with any kind of remorse, because it took a special kind of person to make you want to see their brains on the outside rather than the inside.

you were regressing. maybe you really weren’t over what had happened to you. maybe you never would be, and you felt tour skin prickle at the thought, your hands gripping the sides of your sink as you stared at your mirror.

“your mother says you were protecting her.” the detective leaned in, putting his arms on the table in front of you both. his gaze weighed heavy on you, and you could feel him scan you like a file; taking in how expressionless you were, how even after everything that had happened, you didn’t shed a single tear. “was your father abusive, y/n?”

and that made your eyes snap towards his, cold and cunning, staring at him, unblinking. but if you peers too closely, focused too much on the emotion behind your eyes, the exhaustion of living, you could see that you had every reason to feel nothing for what you had done. you had every fucking reason to smash your father’s head in.

the door to your bedroom shut behind you as you walked back into your room, throwing your shirt over your head and grabbing one to sleep in. "hello?" ethan's voice came through your phone, your breath hitching when you realized he waited on call the entire time while you disassociated in the bathroom. just another day.

"hey." you made yourself comfortable in your bed, hands coming together under your head as you laid it down on your pillow, staring at your phone right next to your bed. an awkward silence followed for nearly five minutes, the only sounds coming from your breathing and ethan's mild shuffling. your eyes had fallen shut as you listened to ethan's breathing through the speaker.

"are you scared, y/n?"

the question, the sudden break of silence didn't make you move. you only kept your eyes shut, silently manifesting for the sweet arms of sleep to clamp around you. you hummed in response, pretending to think, but you knew how you felt. how this exact situation made you feel like you were 16 again, killing your own flesh and blood for just an ounce of freedom.

you hadn't broken at the seams yet. you were still here, breathing, eyes shut, on a phone with some boy you had taught how to smoke only a few days ago.

that's what mattered.

"are you?" you asked, dodging the question easily.

".. yeah." ethan sighed, the sound loud through your phone (he needed to move away from the phone just a bit, but you didn't feel like telling him that yet). from his side, he laid on his back on his bed, eyes set on the white ceiling above him as he spoke to you, someone emotionally stunted (he would never say that out loud, a it would be hypocritical of him to do so), about how he was feeling. "i think i've always been scared. of richie, i mean."

you stayed silent, your eyes slowly opening as you looked at your phone. the waver in ethan's voice, the way he almost felt ashamed to tell you how he felt.. he was being genuine. "what has richie done to you? to make you scared of him, i mean."

ethan's jaw clenched, eyes unblinking towards his ceiling. staring. gathering memories he had tried so desperately to forget, but every time he saw richie's face, he could only remember them. "he was always the more popular one. him and quinn— i was like.."

"a nerd."

"rude, but true." ethan sighed slowly. "one time, during middle school, i snitched to my dad that richie had brought a girl into our house —he was in high school, mind you —and i couldn't sleep because they had been fucking in his room. and that lack of sleep made me late. my dad doesn't like it when we're late." he breathed in shakily. "a few days later, after my robotics club, i was walking home and a bunch of high school kids drove up next to me and, uh..."

your brows furrowed. ".. beat you up?"

"yup." ethan popped the 'p', breathing in deeply before exhaling again. "and i saw him. richie. sitting in the back seat of the car just watching as these teenagers more than half my size beat me up to a pulp. and he smiled at me. as though i deserved to have my torso bruised and my face slammed on the concrete in the 7th grade." ethan chuckled humorlessly, his laughter quickly fading. "point is.. he always gets what he wants."

he sounded so.. defeated. years and years of being tormented by your own blood made him so afraid to speak up; to the point where he didn't even feel like doing so anymore.

you didn't know how to respond.

".. you're still up for killing him?" you asked, voice slightly unsure due to the fact that ethan had just casually spilled some of his trauma over the phone to you, who was half asleep and barely coherent at this point.

"i wish it didn't have to be this way—"

"no you don't."

"what?" ethan blinked, brows knotting together in confusion as he looked at his phone in disbelief over your words.

"you don't mind that it went this way. because you hate him." you sounded so factual. so casual, as though the entire situation was a case you could easily dissect and observe from a far. "and he's done a lot of shit to you and others. the people he's killed. the people he's manipulated. people like richie don't deserve anything." your words became sour, laced with the poison from the past.

"how do you do that?" ethan asked you.

"do what?"

"be so calm in this situation. this is dangerous shit— y/n, you're willingly putting yourself in danger."

you swallowed hard, weighing your words in your head. "it's because i don't want anyone else to die like his victims did. and i," you blinked, "i want to get them their revenge."

"by killing him?"

"if i have to." a beat. "are you still okay with that?"

was he okay with that?

ethan didn't know. he had been walking through the entire week as though he was nothing more than a ghost— eating and drinking to survive, speaking only when spoken to, living his days out of fear because if his brother had been killing people, when would he turn on his siblings? when would richie kill quinn, or chad, or mindy, or tara, or sam, or him?

he didn't want to tell the police and had his brother escape from their confines the next day.

ethan sighed. "if i'm helping you, then yes. i am." a beat of silence, as though his thoughts were overcoming him, as though he was weighing his options in his head. he knew you were perfectly content with the silence over the phone (as you probably didn't want to be on the phone with him for so long in the first place), but ethan wasn't like that. he wanted to talk, but about what?

he wanted to talk to you.

he wanted to know you.

"if we're going to be working together, don't you think we should know each other more?" and his question came out as such a pure example of simple curiosity, simple human want to know of someone simply for the sake of knowing someone. to walk past one's walls and know the little facts about them.

you were not one to let people do that. you were not one to let someone simply know you, because your mind didn't work that way. it felt off, it felt odd— the idea that ethan wanted to know you before the shitshow began.

"you don't have to get to know me."

"i want to know you." ethan's breath hitched. "nothing like.. personal, or anything. just like.. what's your favorite season?"

"well, that's really pushing it." you heard his small chuckle on the other end, your eyebrows softening ever so slightly at the sound. "it's autumn. and yours?"

"spring." ethan blinked up at his ceiling. "i like the rain. the smell of petrichor— a lot of people hate it but i just.. don't."

you hummed in acknowledgement, turning your head towards your phone. "favorite color?"

"forest green. and yours?"

"greyish blue. like the kind that appears at dusk when there's fog over the ground." you felt your body relax a bit; the questions were fortunately far more shallow than you thought they would be. ".. are we gonna do this until you fall asleep?"

"if you don't mind," ethan murmured softly, shifting gently in his bed.

"what if i do mind? i do have shit to do tomorrow, you know," you muttered under your breath.

and ethan would've felt pretty bad by your words. you were always so brutally honest yet so horribly awkward (it was painful to watch at times, he had to admit), but there was one particular question weighing on his mind ever since he picked up your call. one that you had easily deflected moments before. "y/n, you didn't answer my question."

your brows furrowed. "what question?"

"aren't you scared?" ethan swallowed thickly, eyes spacing out as he stared at his ceiling, at the darkened abyss of his room. "for your life, for your friends, for anything?"

were you?

you didn't want to be honest with him. you didn't want to tell him that in all honesty, you were terrified. terrified of losing the friends (that was a strong word for it) you barely had, of losing the small bit of family that was still speaking to you with faux smiles and condolences even though they were under the impression that you were an unpredictable woman.

and unpredictable women terrified them.

but your emotions were always increasing tenfold with every passing hour, the thoughts being so jumbled up and so strong that you had simply learned to drown them out. to continue on with your life with your tornado of thoughts and no one to speak to and no one to look for because you were used to doing this all on your own.

you had dealt with it on your own before. you could deal with it again.

but rather than lie to ethan's face, you found yourself confessing much like a sinner to an angel. "i am. i'm terrified, ethan." and that was all.

your fingers flew over your keyboard, the past year of having to write essay after essay finally paying off as you typed furiously into your laptop.

evelyn campo murder 2020

evelyn campo murder cambria california

evelyn campo case

you had only found a few articles on her murder, most of them not even mentioning the girl's name, much less many details about her case (unless you counted grim retellings of the crime scene). there was only a brief mention of a possible suspect (the man you had a date with in literally a day), but other than that, nothing. the police had no leads.

"why isn't there much on her murder?" you asked, scrolling down an article with a frown on your face.

ethan sat next to you on your bed, peering over your shoulder as your eyes scanned your screen. jesus, you read fast. "quinn told me that her parents wanted to keep it under wraps," he murmured, only catching glimpses of the article's words. "but i heard they got some private detectives on the case, too."

"sounds like small town gossip."

"oh, that's cause it was." ethan's eyes landed on one quote from the article as your scrolling finally came to a stop. adam's apple bobbing at the sight of it, he read, '.. found stabbed an approximate 78 times ..' the sheer strength and passion, the excitement richie must've had when he killed evelyn made his stomach sick. and ethan would've easily puked over the side of your bed if you didn't speak to him, breaking him from his stupor.

"hey, stay with me."

and just like that, ethan did. his mind was brought back to the present.

"right. sorry." you oculd feel his breath fan gently over your neck as he continued to look over your shoulder. "if we find the fingertips of his current victims, we can connect him to her— evelyn's —murder."

"maybe he kept them." you looked at ethan, confusion written over his face at your words. "it's just a guess, i dunno. but if evelyn was richie's first victim, then he might have kept parts of her. like a—"

"trophy. oh, this is so fucked," ethan muttered under his breath, moving to lay horizontally on your bed, the situation at hand easily driving him to exhaustion as he stared at your ceiling.

"we should first find out who his most current victims are, if possible. see if anyone our age has gone missing in our university or nearby universities." you looked down at ethan, whose face laid near where you sat. "if we can't, then we need to find those fingertips."

"right."

a beat.

"richie's working, yeah?" you asked ethan, who nodded as his doe eyes turned to you.

"yeah. he can't really be anywhere but work right now.” a hint of a smile graced his features. “i stole a look at his scheduling. he’s probably knee deep in papers right now.” he saw your eyes flash over in worry, the glint disappearing just as quickly as it arrived, and ethan knew. he simply knew that ever since richie gave into his impulses and followed you home, you were on edge.

you were just good at hiding it. good thing ethan was a little bit too observant when he wanted to.

"y/n, he's working." silently reassuring, ethan gazed at you, reading your indifferent face, searching for any more sign of fear or worry, but it was gone. you had gotten rid of everything before it could show even more.

"right." you looked away from ethan, feeling his stupidly innocent gaze still lingering on your as you looked back at your laptop. if you were to meet with ethan anywhere else but your dorm, richie surely would've gone out of his way to see. at least in the safety of your dorm room, you could shut the blinds and lock the door and be sure of your safety.

"what're your guys' plans tomorrow?" ethan asked you, finally allowing your to move on from the indirect topic of your emotions.

you shrugged. "no idea. i never texted him first— that's embarrassing."

"you seemed fine with calling me first last night."

"i never said that wasn't embarrassing." you rolled your eyes, almost hearing the stupid small smile that graced ethan's face at your words.

a minute passed in silence, the only sounds being your typing as you tried to build your list of articles on evelyn's murder. you had a grand total of 5 articles; better than you thought, but not as much as you would've liked.

he shifted umcomfortably in his seat, the dead silence only a bit too awkward for him. "shouldn't you know your plans, though? just in case he, uh," ethan clears his throat, raising his brows knowingly. he didn't want to say the word; but you already knew what he was implying.

"kills me?"

"well, yeah."

"he's not going to kill me," you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "not yet, anyway. i'm too close to mindy; if i suddenly go missing after a date with him, mindy will find out for sure."

ethan's lips twitched into a small frown, hazel eyes darking with turmoil as he listened to you. "evelyn was my neighbor, y/n. she literally lived down the street from me; he's unpredictable—"

you almost winced at that word.

you could feel them all staring at you. whispering harshly, practically pointing at you as you stood at the doorway of your aunt's house, hands clasped together in front of you. your mother believed that having you locked up in the room of your new shared apartment in new york was unhealthy; and maybe she was right. for once, she had your best interests at heart, only you knew the outcome of her plan to assimilate you back into society under your shiny new last name.

"she's unpredictable," your aunt hissed as she talked to your mother, shamelessly looking you up and down as though you were some freak of nature, ignoring the clouded look over your eyes because you were barely keeping it together as it was. "you saw what she did, didn't you?"

luckily, you barely reacted.

"i know that, e."

"you know," he sat up in his seat, moving to sit next to you, facing the opposite way with his long legs splayed out on your bed, "after he was questioned by the police, he'd come home as though he had just come home from work or something. and he'd," he let out a sigh, "talk about it. like it was something so fucking casual."

"around you?" your eyebrows raised at that.

"no, never around me. but he would around my dad." contempt laced ethan's tone as he continued. it was hatred, but there was something underneath it that was something akin to jealousy, you realized. ''he'd tell him everything. what they asked that day. the leads he thinks they have— and he almost sounded proud that he was their only suspect."

"can i ask something?" you shifted to face your body towards his, your legs lightly touching his side. "if you were so sure that richie was the killer, why didn't you say anything?"

"because my dad worked for the department. so richie had an in." there it was again, you noticed; that familiar contempt. "and even though wayne bailey wasn't a part of the case, he upheld richie's innocence."

you blinked. "your family is fucked."'

"oh, i know."

"do you think you're the same way?"

ethan's eyebrows raised at your blunt question. he would've laughed in your face at your honesty if it weren't for the fact that you were dead serious. you stared at ethan, almost unblinking, expecting an equally honest answer back. "oh, you actually want to know?"

"yes?" you frowned a bit, tilting your head to the side a little. "did you think i was joking?"

"maybe?"

your brows knotted together. "i'm not joking, though."

"well, i know that now," ethan groaned, cheeks dusting pink out of slight embarrassment. "i haven't been diagnosed with anything other than like.. seasonal allergies and peanuts. maybe my moral code is a little messed up because i told you last night that i'm willing to help you kill my brother if i need to," his hands moved as he fell deeper and deeper into his ramble, "so maybe? the answer is maybe."

you listened to ethan ramble intently, watching his hands move as he spoke, as he ranted his jumbled thoughts in his mind to you. and in any other circumstance, you would've found ethan bailey annoying. he talked too much, couldn't handle silence, and had a way of going back and forth on things.

but you didn't mind ethan. he was tolerable.

you liked tolerable.

"or maybe the answer isn't maybe and i need to see a therapist. because i don't particularly feel bad for trying to put my murderous sociopathic brother in jail — not as much as i probably should, by the way — so the answer might be a yes, but for the sake of my sanity the answer is still.." ethan's string of words died in his throat when he realized he had been rambling for a good minute now.

you seemed like the type to interrupt someone who was speaking far too much and far too fast in a short period of time, but you hadn't said a word.

you were listening to him. staring (albeit a little creepily; had you blinked yet?) and observing ethan as he spoke too much about an uncomfortable topic to try and get rid of the unsettling feeling in his chest.

ethan cleared his suddenly dry throat as he stared into your eyes (for someone who hated to socialize, you held eye contact a little bit too much sometimes). "the answer is still a maybe," he managed, officially finishing his ramble. offering you a tight lipped smile, he added, "i rambled."

"you did." you replied.

"i'm sorry i did."

"nothing to be sorry about. i don't mind it." you stared at him for a little longer, blinking before turning back to your laptop, failing to notice the way ethan's face turned a prettier shade of red at your nonchalance. "when richie and i are out on our date, you should look for any ids or items he may have kept from his victims."

"right." ethan focused his attention to the task at hand, ignoring the way your prior words seemed to echo in his mind. how could he be thinking so deeply about such a thing when you were acting as if it was nothing? you were just a nice person; there wasn't more behind your words. "you should try and be out with him for a good few hours just to give me time."

"a few hours with richie. sounds great." you clenched your jaw, your fingers stopping on your keyboard. but they were still thrumming on your thumb, each finger tapping your fingertip in an undisclosed rhythm. "any pointers? like anything he may like in a person that'll make him," your nose wrinkled at your words, "not want to go home?"

"he likes you as you are already." ethan paused, biting his bottom lip gently as he reevaluated his words. "actually— he likes girls who he can't really have. like sam?" he rolled his eyes as he remembered their hellshow of a relationship. "he pined after sam for like a year just because she was dating someone before they got together."

ethan avoided your gaze as he looked at your laptop screen. "you know when he listened while we pretended to have sex? how he waited," from his peripherals, he could see your expression sour with anger at his words, "until you 'orgasmed'," ethan made faux quotations with his fingers, "before he left?"

"yeah." the memory of richie's shadow under ethan's door made a sick feeling broil in your stomach. and that feeling only grew when your mind came to a horrible assumption. "you don't think richie's interest in me grew after that night.. do you?"

ethan finally looked at you, his jaw clenched in anger and protectiveness as he nodded once. and that alone made your face fall in horror.

richie partly wanted you because it meant he deemed you 'forbidden' territory. because he believed ethan was interested in you first.

you groaned, letting your upper body fall back on your bed. "your brother's disgusting," you stated, staring at your ceiling.

next to you, ethan sighed. "i know."

you stood stiffly as you stared at the black dress you wore. in any other circumstance, you would've been comfortable with how you looked. you had styled your hair and this was one of your many black dresses that fit your features well, and to top it off, you wore a heart locket necklace and had your bag over your shoulder.

but knowing what you were getting into, it was hard to stay completely confident. you had basically shoved more of your strongest emotions into the deep dark hole in your mind just to keep yourself sane, but you couldn't even deny the sickening feeling in your chest that seemed to grow with every passing minute.

you still had no idea what richie's plans were. maybe it was something boring, like a movie then dinner. or maybe a walk in the park that would eventually lead to your death.

all you knew was that he would pick you up at 7 pm. that was all richie texted you, and now it was 6:45.

15 minutes.

"hello?" ethan's voice on your phone made you snap out of your thoughts, jaw clenching as you looked at yourself one last time, making sure not a hair was out of place just to keep up the facade.

you had called him again. at this point, you were wondering if you were lacking self respect for yourself, choosing to continuously call ethan during times of high stress in your shared situation.

you really needed to stop calling first. it was getting embarrassing.

"hello." you looked at your phone, watching as ethan tried (and failed) to set up his phone on his bedside table. you had been in a call for 30 minutes now, and while most of the conversation was honestly just ethan talking and you replying with short comments, you didn't mind it too much.

"are you, uh," ethan swallowed hard, "ready? hasn't been back since work so i'm guessing he's on his way to you now."

"i'm ready to get this over with, if that's what you mean." you set your phone up on your table, thankful that anika and mindy were out on another one of their movie dates (mindy was a little too excited to watch evil dead rise), so you could speak without interruptions. you sat on your desk chair, showing the upper half of your body to ethan, who was sitting on his bed, his back laid back on his head board.

but when he saw you, dressed up and looking a little bit too nice for his shitty brother, ethan sat up. throat running dry like it always seemed to and cheeks heating up, he managed an almost shy smile as he looked at you. "you look.. nice."

"thanks." a pause. "do i not usually look nice?"

ethan's eyes widened in shock (and slight fear). "i didn't say that! i just haven't known you for that long and i've only seen you like a handful of times but i swear you always look nice! you just look especially nice tonight. for richie." his nose crinkled in disgust at the thought.

you were all dressed up for his brother. and while the entire situation had made ethan throw up almost daily and feel far too many negative emotions that he didn't know how he felt anymore, he knew one thing as he looked at you, sitting so casually as though you weren't stopping ethan's train of thought.

he was jealous. and worried. and feeling far too protective over you, someone who could definitely handle everything on your own.

you tilted your head a little as ethan ended his short ramble. "ethan, i was joking."

"oh." ethan nodded, clicking his tongue as he tried to play it cool. "right."

lightly glossed lips curled up slightly, revealing a small smile. "thank you." your hands pulled your ring off of your finger. you let it run over your knuckles; back and forth. back and forth. the heated metal (you hands were and it was only a little disgusting) moved easily over your skin as you tried to calm yourself.

9 more minutes.

"y/n," ethan said, making your eyes focus again. "be careful, okay?"

your mouth opened to protest, but ethan continued on.

"and i know you said you could handle it," he said pointedly, making you shut your mouth, "but i want you to be careful."

three loud knocks at your dorm door made you jump, hand closing over your ring and curling into a fist as your steady heart began to pound loudly in your ears.

he was here.

"i have to go." you grabbed your phone, voice lowered down as you looked at ethan one last time. and for a brief moment, he saw just how worried you were. "you know the plan. be careful." and with that, you hung up.

the door to you and mindy's shared dorm felt far away as you walked out of your bedroom, shoving your phone into your purse before opening your dorm door. richie stood outside with a single orchid in his hand, its petals pristine and white as he held it. sleazy eyes traveled down your body, as though he was silently taking in your every curve, every exposed area of skin. and not even caring to seem the least bit subtle, richie took his time traveling back up to your face, his cold eyes watching you with interest.

as though you were some unpredictable toy for him.

"you look beautiful," richie murmured, making you force a smile as you tilted your head to the side a bit. shutting the door behind you, you looked him up and down; an open button up black shirt with a white shirt inside and some black jeans. the lack of effort in his style was infuriating— why did you have to dress up but he showed up as though he robbed old navy?

"you look.. good," you managed, unable to keep your honesty at bay as you managed a tight lipped smile. your lackluster response made you want to walk back into your dorm and lock it, but richie only chuckled at your response.

"nothing else?" he asked, handing the orchid to you. "i got you another flower."

another flower. you tried to hide your disgust at the confirmation that richie really was your stalker, instead taking the orchid with a tense hand. as you took it, richie began to walk down the hall of your dorm building, ready to lead you out.

"thanks," you stated, walking next to him and reluctantly allowing him to take the lead. wary eyes watched him, taking in the way he seemed to have perfect posture, how pleased he seemed in himself, as though his mere presence was a blessing to you, and the way he was staring right back at you.

observing. watching, pupils almost dilating as he took in how perfect you looked under the fluorescent light of the hallway. richie could feel his heart pounding, adams apple bobbing as he took a moment — just a moment — to admire his date. his date. the phrase rolled off of his tongue quite nicely.

you immediately averted your eyes back to the hallway in front of you. "so," you began, ignoring the way his eyes felt on your skin, "you were pretty enigmatic about this whole date. i almost thought you'd kill me or something." the dry humored joke fell from your lips before you could stop it, and yet you kept your eyes focused on the hallway in front of you, barely a reaction on your face as blood rushed through your ears. as you both began to take the elevator downstairs, you heard richie laugh.

even his laugh sounded ingenuine.

he stood next to you, arm pressed against yours, a little too close for comfort in the empty elevator. "just wanted to keep it a surprise, that's all." richie's eyes traveled to your hand, watching as you rubbed your ring subconsciously, a lopsided smirk appearing on his face. "are you nervous for our date?" he asked.

eyes blinking, you looked up at him confusedly. "no," you said with a tilt of your head, "why do you say that?"

"because," richie said, looking down at you with a mischievous smile, as though he was always one step ahead of you. "you've been rubbing that ring of yours ever since i arrived. i'd call it a," he thought for a moment before clicking his tongue, "nervous tick." a knowing glint appeared in his eyes, and suddenly you felt a wave of sick paranoia wash over you.

you immediately stopped rubbing your ring, your head turning back to the closed elevator doors in front of you both. your distorted reflection stared back at you from the steel of the elevator doors, and it was as though you realized just how trapped you were. there was no going back from this plan.

again, you began to subconsciously rub your ring. and richie continued to watch.

#AUTHORSNOTE— i'm actually soso sorry for the long update & the cliffhanger, but thank you for reading!

#TAGLIST— @cham9ions , @netey6m , @mskitkatbubbles , @onlyangel-444 , @cyueksims , @tisthedamnseason69 , @helpimgoinginsanehaha , @anthemabby , @clemenscove , @vanillawhale , @lanascinnamongirll , @rhaenyra4ever , @shebreathedherlast , @datingspiderman , @marurubahbah , @taetae123094 , @kn1n3 , @nox222 , @ch9mpi0n , @ooyuhgetitig4

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Also, if I may ask, what exactly is Dragon Age? I'd never heard of it before following your blog, and I know very little about it outside of what you've said about it.

I know I could probably just look it up, but that's not nearly as fun as listening to a friend's rambles.

Okay first of all I'm so sorry for the person I've become, and the person I continue to become as we get closer to and eventually arrive at the release of the new game on Halloween. (Context: it has been a decade since the last game. Nine years for me, as I got into the fandom in the time between the release of the last game and the release of its final DLC.)

The basic explanation is: western fantasy RPG series where the player character gathers up a group of companions to do anything from save the world to survive living in the worst city in the world. The real strength of the series is getting everyone obsessed with the companion characters, who, depending on your choices, you can be friends or enemies with, even as you continue to work together, and maybe you'll fall in love or they'll break your heart or you break their heart. I got dumped by a god. I nearly got dumped by a bastard prince who I encouraged to become king. My witch wife left me and I had to go on a long journey to find her. I almost went for a sacrifice ending and then cried so hard saying goodbye to my elf assassin boyfriend (we met when he was hired to kill me) that I reloaded and made a bunch of different choices.

The other strength is the roleplaying choices that you can make to shape your own character to get obsessed with, and then continue to add lore to them in your head until you're making them in the Sims just because you love them, or have an AU where they work at Subway. Real things I have done.

What else... I think another thing the games do well is in the worldbuilding and lore, and specifically in ambiguity in those things. The first game, Dragon Age: Origins, has the PC and companions fighting to save their country from what's basically a zombie apocalypse. The zombies, called darkspawn, have toxic blood that, if a person is infected, will lead them to a gruesome, agonizing death. In the course of the game, you learn more about how darkspawn are ""born"" - they're not 1:1 pop culture zombies, it's just the best comparison to start with - but... where did they come from in the first place? Why do they exist? The Church has an answer, but the Church is very fallible. You uncover new pieces of information about them in the game's DLC, and then in later games, which half-confirm and half-deny the Church's tale, but we still don't have a clear answer. Maybe we'll finally get one in the next game!

And that's just one example. The Church had a papal schism and the two branches argue about the nature of god's mortal wife - was she a mage or not, did she ascend and become divinity or not? There's a cult that thinks she was reborn as a dragon. You find what is said to be her ashes, which have miraculous healing properties. One of your companions, if killed in the temple where the ashes are housed, resurrects as a sort-of ghost. What's up with that? Who knows! We sure don't!

So, there's a lot of fun lore to chew on, and a lot of fun characters to get obsessed with, and a lot of options for playing your own individual character and getting obsessed with them.

My favorite game of the three is Dragon Age: Origins, the first one, released in 2009. Yes, the graphics are dated, yes the combat gameplay is jank, yes it frequently crashes for some people (there are workarounds), yes there's a weird amount of sexism and some of that is trigger-warning worthy (something to keep in mind for anyone who wants to check it out), but I've played it... five, six times? Half of those as the same character, making the same choices, and yet it seems like every time I play, I find something new hidden away somewhere. A character sidequest I didn't unlock because they didn't like me enough. An NPC sidequest somewhere that I didn't explore well enough.

There's different background options for the character you create, and each of them gives you an "origin story" sequence to play. Usually only an hour or two before you hit the convergence point of the main story, but it dramatically shapes the way you see the locations and characters that you'll return to later in the story. A random merchant that a human noble PC passes by is an old friend for a dwarven noble PC. A random elf that a mage PC finds locked up in prison is the beloved cousin of the city elf PC. A random ambush by darkspawn holds a devastating reunion for the nomadic elf PC. A two-line encounter with a random woman is a lot more for the commoner dwarf PC, because that is their sister who's finally gotten away from their abusive mother. The PC is unvoiced in Origins, but that means there's more dialogue options to choose from than for the other games, which really helps me define the character I'm playing. And as a person who loves to make OCs (you know what I have going on for Pokemon), that's a big big plus.

The other games are good, too - I actually started with Dragon Age 2, and came back to Origins, because that's what I was recommended, and I think it was good because the combat felt so much better in 2, and once I was hooked on the world, I could go back to Origins. But there's something about Origins that makes me a big shill for it.

The Dragon Age fandom is, uh, contentious. If you - or anyone else here - ever want to check out the games, my recommendation is to look at cool art, make a few friends who are chill, and stay away from the radioactive discourse meltdowns that always seemed to be happening when the fandom was more active. I know lots of fandoms are toxic trashbins, I stay in a little corner to dodge that. But Dragon Age is. the fandom is special. Here's a parody post about what it's like.

But I really do love Dragon Age, and I've made some good friends, and I've had a lot of fun, and I'm very excited for the new game, and I am, again, very very sorry for the person I'm becoming.

[poweroftwelve]

Welcome to Power of Twelve!

Power of Twelve began over five years ago as a rewrite of the Power of Three and Omen of the Stars series of the Warrior Cats books. Over that time it has garnered hundreds of fans who engaged with the work and continued to delve deeper into its concept. It was a simple question.

What if every clan had cats with the power of the stars in their paws?

What began as something small became something so much bigger. The scope of Power of Twelve was daunting, and yet fueled by a passion and love for these characters, my goal is to bring that story to life in a format that brings art and writing together to help it shine.

My name is Knot, and I'm a 23 year old cis woman who uses she/her pronouns. I have been reading Warrior Cats since I was 9 years old, and this is my dream and goal - to share the story of Power of Twelve through every arc.

My main blog is @notwarriorswiki where I do art and chat about cats. You can also find spoilers for this AU/Rewrite there. My main blog is @kestrelwing where I do my reblogs and replies. It's a lot of different fandoms there, not just Warrior Cats.

As a quick note:

I am never bothered by "Like Spam". Like as much as you want. It's engagement and that makes me happy!

I love Asks, so don't be afraid to send them. Feel free to use the Anon function, as I get it can be a bit daunting. I'll try to answer as many asks as I can.

I love seeing tags and replies in a post, whether that be reblogs or general chatter. That's never a bother.

Changes within this rewrite include:

Fixing the Family Tree in many areas to avoid pairings that are a bit too related for comfort.

Expanding on the familial bonds between cats. For instance, Graystripe and Willowpelt will interact as mother/son, and therefore also Graystripe and Darkstripe will interact as brothers.

Expanding clan culture, differentiating the clans, and showcasing new roles cats can aspire to be within their clan.

Greater focus on character arcs, and changing much of the narratives themes to address problematic elements.

Large overhaul of the plot, especially in Po3/OotS.

As time goes on, a Master Post will be made compiling information to make things more accessible for newcomers. However, if you've never heard of Power of Twelve before now, you're just fine. This series will be designed so that anyone, Warrior Cats fan or not, can jump in and read along without background knowledge.

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy Power of Twelve.

[in-pleasant-company]

Hello new friend,

I'm a 41-year-old white queer femme who has just recently retrieved my three AG dolls from the attic where I put them away before I went to college. I have Kirsten, and the original release Felicity and Addy. I brought them out to clean up and give to my daughter, but have found they have released a great deal of stored up energy, and I have been deep diving into the world of AG since I put it down in 2001. I have been working my way backwards in your Tumblr, and am in 2020 now. I want to thank you for your clear love of and dedication to American Girl, and I really appreciate your various thoughtful perspectives, especially as it relates to the historical PC and current Mattel relationship with race and ethnicity. As an Elder Millennial, I don't really know how to Tumblr, but you can find me on IG as quiltereina (my public account), so you can see that I'm not a total weirdo-in-a-bad-way - just a domesticated rebel with grandma hobbies living in a hippie suburb of my hometown of Washington, D.C.

I found my dolls, but not their clothes or accessories yet, which is a devastating. I received the dolls as gifts, but I earned all of their clothes through chores. I have already sewed more clothes for my girls (plus the three new ones I have purchased since Jan 1) than I had the entirety of my childhood, having leaned to sew in the intervening years. I am balancing the desire to recreate all of the clothes I had, using time-period appropriate prints and patterns, but in my own preferred color schemes (mostly pinks and purples), a sort of alternative history recreation for my own inner child, plus the desire to make fun and frilly costumes for my five-year-old's enjoyment. In these pursuits, I have not only saved the Pretty Dresses PDF from AGPlaythings, but have been searching for patterns that will as closely as possible replicate the Meet outfits for my girls; I have found Addy's from doll-princesse, and think I can wing Kirsten's from her school dress, but Felicity? Still searching.

So I have one very specific question - a woman in a 18" doll facebook sewing group claims that there was 1992 Pleasant Company book of patterns released, which included Felicity's Meet Dress. I have searched the ends of the internet; she is not referring to the PC Pretty Dresses Patterns; there is no record in the AG Wiki or in the Library of Congress for this book. She said someone on Etsy was selling copies of the book and the FB poster got blocked for harassing the Etsy seller for selling a book still under copyright, but I cannot find the like on Etsy or Ebay. Have you ever heard of such a book? Or is _someone_ -lying- on the internet? And if you have any other deep-dive pattern suggestions (I've seen everything on Etsy, PixieFaire, Pemberly, etc), I'd be grateful, and also happy to compensate pattern makers/recreators.

If you've made it this far, thanks for your time reading this, and again for your insightful and informative Tumblr-blog.

Best,

LaLa

Hi, welcome! It's wonderful that you're giving some love to these old dolls once again!

As for the book with Felicity's pattern, it sounds fascinating. I will keep a lookout for it. It's possible the book was an internal, company only creation that was meant for creating the mockups before the doll clothes went into production in West Germany (and later in China). I will say that there was a set of doll patterns (or possibly multiple sets?) that were briefly available from Colonial Williamsburg that the person may have been remembering as Felicity patterns. It could also have been a pattern that was made available for special events at places like the Madison Children's Museum. I know of a pattern for Felicity's Bedding that is associated with the Madison Children's Museum.

The patterns available from Colonial Williamsburg were from Past Crafts patterns (labelled Evoking Period Style for Dolls), and I'm almost positive that there was a set of doll clothes patterns designed by someone who worked in the textiles department of Colonial Williamsburg, but I haven't been successful in tracking them down.

Edit: Could it be they were talking about the GIRL sized pattern for Felicity's Meet Outfit? It wasn't in a book but a paper envelope like commercial patterns.

Edit 2: I reached out on the AG Playthings message board and got some answers. Yes, the pattern does exist but it was never available for sale from Pleasant Company. I imagine it was an internal document that was somehow leaked/stolen. Mystery solved!

[mcytblraufest]

Hi hi!! I'm very excited to see a reverse-bang is happening! I'm already in way too many fandom events but oh well what's more lmao

ANyway! I wanted to ask, for the artists, does the AU we draw have to be something completly new, or can it be one we've drawn for before? If we've drawn it before does it matter if those drawings have been posted elsewhere? (I just want to be sure 'cos I have a few ideas and some are for AUs I've played with in the past and others are for AUs I haven't really touched yet)

Also! Once we're paired with our writer, can the artist share ideas for story or whatever that they might have had for the au? Or is it just like 'here's my art, good luck!', giving the writer free-reign. And can we do more art for our writer than just the original drawing?

Okay I think that's everything, sorry for the rambly questions😅

Hello! No problem, we're happy people are excited!

The question of if you've posted about the AU before hits two snags, kind of.

The first one is anonymity. If you think that anyone who sees this AU will automatically know who submitted it, because it's a famous named au that people know from your blog— that would probably not be best to submit. I know art styles are often identifiable, but sign ups are still supposed to be reasonably anonymous. But if you've barely talked about it, go for it!

And the second one is the question about if a person has to consume like fifteen pieces and an essay to understand your art— that's not gonna work. The art pieces have to stand alone, whatever piece(s) you submitted. So if you have fifteen sketches in your drafts about this, but you can just make an awesome finished piece, then again, go for it!

So as long as your art will not immediately de-anon you and can stand along, submit away!

Once you're paired with the writer, you can share more ideas for story and brainstorming if you want, that would be awesome, but from a modly stance they're considered non-binding. The only information the person has to work with is the submitted information on the sign-up form. We want to make sure that the writer is jumping off of the art the artist provided, and any work they do is following from it and inspired by it, but after that point the writer does still have creative control over their own work. In the same way that last year we didn't want writers to be doing like— art orders that they'd only be happy with specific art— we want to make sure that artists are not doing fic commissions where they're basically ordering a fic to their specifications.

Which is way out beyond the edge of what you asked, I know you were just like "omg if I have extra ideas can I share them", and the answer to that is yes, but I just wanted to share the like end point rule of that from a mod standpoint, if you have creative differences. While you are absolutely free to share the ideas, we love the idea of collaborative brainstorming and that's one of the purposes of a big bang and the joys of working in teams, the writer can come up with their own ideas too if they want to, cause they're the one posting the work. So like in practice probably your writer will love to hear more ideas and work with them, in the same way that artists working with writers were happy to get extra details about what people looked like and what they were wearing (that happens with most events that I've seen). But at the end of it the person posting the fic gets final call about what goes into the fic, as long as they're adhering to the information posted in the sign-up. So yes absolutely you can be a brainstorming partner— but you're not a creative director— but being a brainstorming partner is awesome, go for it! Any amount of extra collaboration you can do with your partner rocks.

And absolutely you can do more art for your writer than your original piece! I know I've heard some artists talking already about how they intend to submit art, get matched to a writer, and then draw art based on the fic based on their art. We're gonna get nested art. Which absolutely rocks. If you want to do something like that, fill your boots, I can't wait to see what you come up with.

The baseline is that a big bang is about collaboration and working together with people. If you want to do *more* collaboration and working together with people, that's absolutely awesome and go for it.

[eldrith]

HIYAA! It’s me, the new tumblr acc person who asked u abt the text thing on ur own intro post, and i was wanting to ask for some tips on writing?

Ok so hold on let me compliment u first cuz u are actually so amazing!!! i’ve been following ur stuff for a while now (not rlly, since like summer 24 but shh) and honestly ur writing is so stunning and beaand breathtaking and legit made me pull up the dictionary like every two seconds (mostly cuz eng isnt my first language), like if shakespear himself was reborn to this time and age i’m convived he was born as u, cuz ur talent is INSANE?? like AAAAAAAAAAAA

anyway now that i got that out of my system (not rlly, i could write an entire essay on how beautiful and amazing ur writing is) i was hoping to ask for tips on writing? like general stuff yk? also i heard that its good to have a few drafts ready for when u start posting so it wont take long to get content out?

ughh srry for the ramble im stressing😭 also i kinda giggled when u said my blog will def be cute cuz the aesthetic it has rn………. 😀 its far from cute lol😭 i still think its pretty :3

hi cutie! sorry it took me a moment to answer this i've been so busy!!

first of STOP IT bc youre so sweet (& if you've been following me since summer '24 then you've been here the whole time bc i made this account in july!!! <3) the dictionary part ahahaha i get it!!! you're so kind to say such things i appreciate you & im so happy you like my writing!!

dw about rambling i literally don’t stop taking ever. & i believe you that ur blog is SO cute!!!!

i would be happy to share some tips ! i obviously am not the best source bc im not a professional writer and to each their own – but here's a (very long im sorry) list of what i recommend:

in terms of tumblr,

having a 'backlog' of fics in your arsenal is a great thing. i think even a plethora of diferent wips can be a great thing too (there's 11 unfinished wips in my folder rn that may not see the light of day), even if you're a slow writer (like me). that being said, it doesn't have to be that way — sometimes i post things right after finishing them just bc i want to share it!!!

along that vein, i know a lot of my moots here have schedules or structuring to posts. alerting their followers or posting teasers before (i do like to do this often), or scheduling fics to be posted on a certain day/time. i think this is wonderful; though i haven't been able to keep myself to such a routine, and literally just let things rip whenever.

time zone reblogging is a good way to ensure any readers around da globe see your fic! you can figure out some of the main time zones and schedule reblogs of your fics for those times. i sometimes do this too!

create your post draft w/ title/headers/warnings & tags etc beforehand bc it is SUCH a drag to do when you’re about to post a fic!!!

again, people are for the most part very kind here; don't feel like you have to be churning out fics just to keep people's attention. your writing will be wonderful & they will (they WILL. or else i will Get Them) be grateful that you chose to share it!!

in terms of general writing, i actually have so many thoughts on writing and preferences, but i dont want to be insane on main so here's just a few things off the dome—

love your story!! i think people's best works are when they become deeply invested with their own plot/characters. it's why i chose to leave certain characters, because i was no longer loving/enjoying my stories.

withhold information from your readers. i am a huge believer in the theory of omission. this seems to be a bit controversial on here; but i personally am in support of Hemingway's iceberg theory. overwhelming readers with information is boring. let them use their imagination to keep them & yourself from getting burnt out, & allow them to see what they'd like to within those gaps.

write first & edit later. this is something that took me a while to get into the habit of bc i always feel the need to fix things immediately. but it helps the writing process to get out your thoughts and structure first, then fine-comb it after. it saves energy & time!!!

especially in longer fics, avoid logical fallacy — ie., arguments that do not have adequate support. if your characters are fighting and it is for a reason that is not believable (same with a larger scale, like war), then it isn't as realistic nor entertaining to read!!! (i could elaborate but i could write so much on all of this HAH)

USE THE FIVE SENSES. all of them. they are your friend for creating imagery and i use them all the time. this also helps to avoid white room syndrome.

speaking of imagery: make use of both literal and figurative.

literal — obvious & realistic description of anything. ex; describing how black the wings of a raven are. simple& makes a huge difference in world building. figurative — my favorite; words and descriptions that imply certain ideas & need to be interpreted. describing how shadows slither around corners; implying distrust or paranoia, thoughts of serpents, etc. (this is where you have to have faith in your readers — perhaps i put too much faith in them sometimes lmao.)

my favorite way to ensure a cohesive work is to always anchor a motif. i always write with a clear recurring element in my works (could be some device, reference of some sort, words/verbal formula) which appears habitually. in every piece ive written there is at least one motif & usually more (i could cite examples but im not going to rn). it’s my favorite way of conveying emotion & importance. it help sets mood — and ties your whole fic together.

George Orwell has written a lot about never using the passive where you can use the active... this is obviously a preference; i have read countless astounding fics here that write in the passive, but i personally find myself more engaged in active tense. you’re IN the story, not being told of it.

DO NOT USE AI BOTS TO HELP GENERATE YOUR WRITING. ai is incredibly harmful to art; i understand folks who have english not as their native language attempt to use bots to 'polish' their writing, although it is so incredibly obvious when it is used — because computers use patterns. AI CANNOT CREATE, it can only replicate. it can only steal. they use repetitive words, phrases, and structures; all chat GPT fics read, in one way or another, the same; and have a non-human touch which is ingenuine. writers are beautiful and unique because they are different, because we all have a different relationship with english and writing. i often wonder if my translations come out incorrectly because my mother tongue is not english (however i've spoken it basically all my life, so i acknowledge it is different); though i think the charm in authors is their choice in expression. i hope people are confident with themselves, no matter their perceived skill level. i hope they know a robot will take away their intrinsic skill and natural talent. i hope they know it is incredibly obvious when chat bots are used to generate writing. and i see it in this fandom all the fucking time.

writers on writing; ie., some sources that help me:

ray bradbury on: I’ve kept everything I’ve ever cared about since childhood.' or: why personal experience is integral to writing fiction. (1963)

anaïs nin on how the excess of emotion is essential to writing.

ten rules of writing by nietzsche.

vonnegut/kafka: uncertainty is the crucible of creativity. or: the shapes of stories.

writing morally grey characters (character depth)

donna tartt on the writing process: an interview (must watch!!! shes my god)

okay i am DONE yapping. i hope some of this helps & if u have any comments or questions or anything im happy to hear what u think!!

[phantomrose96]

Hey! This question might be a little out of the left field for your blog, but I was wondering what getting into development after college was like for you? One thing I really admire is that— at least from an on looker's point of view —despite the work you do postgrad you've still got a lot of room for writing and interests. I was wondering just how that progression went? Maybe it wasn't progression at all but rather an extremely calculated 52-step misstep into becoming what might be able to be recognized as an adult? Maybe being an adult is about believing you're one first, and actually being one second? Suspension of belief but for emotional maturity? Just looking for a few pointers during my undergrad! :)

djfnkjdf, okay so! tackling things in order

For balancing job and life stuff and interests - it's not like I had any kind of complicated formula. I've landed at a company with a pretty good company culture around work-life balance. Software seems to have a pretty wide spectrum of like, "we expect all waking hours devoted to the company goal" all the way to like "hey everyone jsyk I'm gonna be off at 3pm to take my daughter to her dentist appointment see you later". I did undergrad with a very "all hours dedicated to my course work" mindset and, while the success was nice, the burn out was real. Ending up at a company with a good walk-the-walk approach to work-life balance has been very nice for healing from that, lol. It's a good thing to keep in mind (if you're in a similar field--which maybe you are, since you're math-adjacent) when job-hunting. like sure some people would maybe love to take up a grindset job for a year or two. But if you're looking into something you think you could settle in to long-term, ask around and do some research into the company culture.

As for the whole being an adult thing, I think the best way I've heard it phrased is that adulthood is just building up a ton of "oh, I've done this before" experience. There's a lot of rocky firsts. (This is a random list, which not everyone does, but just examples) things like getting an apartment for yourself for the first time, or setting up electricity in your name for the first time, or setting up internet for the first time, or doing your taxes for the first time, or paying your rent for the first time. And they're all scary things to figure out for the first time! Then over time--at whatever age or milestone you hit these points--they become "oh I've done this before."

If you have adults in your life who can help walk you through this--either parents, family, older friends, that older coworker you get along with--I recommend asking for help and advice. Because those people are "I've done this before" adults who can help you figure it out for the first time when it's new and scary to you. And then once you've done it, and gotten used to it, it won't be new and scary anymore. It'll be a thing you just know how to do now.

I have now set up internet in my name before, and it's become less scary because I now know how to do it. Electricity, gas too. I know how to do my taxes, because I've done them before (and I definitely leaned on advice from my dad the first year I had to do them). I know how to hire movers, because I've done that before. I know how to pay rent. I know how to get a credit card. I know how to order a checkbook, and renew a passport, and how to wire money. I know how to set up online payments. I know how to ride the public transit. I know all that because they were--at one point--scary first-time "adult" things which I had to research, and maybe ask for advice on from adults in my life or the internet, but now I've done them before, and now I know how to do them again, and they aren't so scary.

(Also, for a lot of these things, really, ask!!! For a lot of adult things, there are helplines or offices staffed with people who are happy to help people who are politely looking for information. [Sure okay maybe sometimes you'll encounter someone who's unhappy to help, or doesn't have the info you need] but I've had a lot of success going to places or calling numbers and just being like "hey, sorry, I have some questions about how this works. I'd really appreciate some help!" Just being respectful and courteous of people's time and attention has gotten me a lot of help from city-hall workers, internet service providers, electric companies, rental companies, mortgage brokers, and so many others--people whose job it is to answer questions and give information.)

Hell, I've had a scary couple of months recently feeling out of my depth and inexperienced because (since October) I put an offer on a condo, got a mortgage, closed on the condo, and moved into it. It was a lot of scary firsts. I leaned a lot on older coworkers/relatives/friends for advice (and made sure to show my appreciation for their support--I think that's another part of the process--the gratitude.) It really was not something I could do entirely on my own. But I know a lot more now. I've had a lot more experiences around it. It's now something I "know how to do", and could conceivably do again (just hopefully not for a long time, lol).

Anyway this is getting long but the point is adulthood is not something that happens all at once. It's a steady easing into life experiences and a culmination of "I've done this before" that makes the pieces of adult life less scary over time. Ask for help. Learn. You'll be okay. You'll get there.

Then finally as for MATH--the answer is because math fucks and goes hard as my degree was built on my own blood sweat and tears with multivariate math courses and I saw the opportunity to remember my math roots from high school and make it everyone else's problem in ABoT so I did.

[foxbirdy]

Hi!! Im about to ask some silly questions so totally feel free to ignore them if you're not feeling up to answering any!! I saw you're a marine biology student! I was supposed to go to school for a different major as an international student in Canada but it didn't work out because of Montreal's amazing housing crisis and was looking into maybe looking at Marine conservation again. I was wondering how you would go about looking at schools with the experience you have now. Or what are signs that a school has a good program? Is there anything you wish you had known before? I heard that a lot of coding can be a part of the career do you think that's true? Or any tips for someone who rather focus on temperate/subpolar rather than subtropical/tropical? (or even a longer shot polar/Arctic?)

I know I just asked a lot of a stranger's time so thank you for at least reading my ask. Again feel free to answer as little as you like. I apologize if I've asked something you've been asked five times I'm quite new to your blog

No need to apologize, I don't mind at all! To be very honest, my approach in working towards my career goals & accessing opportunities has been based much more in job experience and field-tech work than school. School can definitely be critical for high-paying positions in science, but at least in the type of work I'm doing, the degree or program is really not as critical as just having it! Having a degree in marine biology or sciences (or even just a degree in the biological sphere) is more of a checkmark on most job applications than something that's a make or break for your career (at least in the type of work I'm in).

To simplify; when picking a school and a program, you should focus much more on what is going to be interesting and livable and sustainable for yourself as a student than finding the thing you think will look best on a CV. What will help you save money? Where will you be supported? What schools are doing research you're interested in? Signs that a school has a good program is often how it's reflected in student support and services. Try to talk to people in programs at schools you're interested in! Send emails to the staff running research you think is cool! Building those connections is the biggest way to get a feel for what it will be like to go to school there.

As for working in more temperate regions, there's so much cool stuff available -- polar or sub-polar work is definitely available if you go through the right channels. Keep an eye on schools that are sponsoring research in those areas, and keep an eye on organizations or programs that look interesting. Reaching out to people is the biggest way to get information and networking. Often my most successful interviews & job applications have been found through word of mouth, and after having set up communication channels with people who work there. And be bold! Apply for things you think you have no chance of getting! Even if you don't get it the first time, make sure they remember your name when you apply in the future.

Good luck!!!

[these-detestable-hands]

Ok so

Yes, overall, RWBY is very good! It's a story with a lot of heart, a cool world, and some rly lovable characters! It takes a minute to pick up but that's just cus it wants you emotionally invested in the characters before the real plot starts, so you actually care about what happens to said characters. It's got a great message about staying hopeful despite The Horrors too. One of my favorite shows ever tbh

Like I said tho it's not perfect and is unfortunately a victim of being rushed thru production by the company that had been behind it for its whole lifetime up until now, Rooster Teeth. The showrunners were put under rly bad time crunches and weren't given the budget to do everything they wanted. RT is shutting down now and RWBY is searching for a new company so hopefully this shouldn't be a problem in the future, but who's to say?

Some criticisms of the show are kinda blown out of proportion (there's this rly loud minority that thinks it's like The Worst Show Ever and if you like it you're The Worst Person Ever for. some reason??? heck if I know) so maybe take any negative things you've heard with a grain of salt — I'd say not to knock it until you've tried it — but dgmw it's ok to criticize it and even dislike it due to its imperfections

There's one thing that especially suffered from this tho, one thing that might break your interest, so I think you deserve to know at least the minimum of this. So there's fantasy racism. And due to it being kinda rushed (especially near the end of its plot importance) it unfortunately doesn't land well!

Now I will add that I can say with confidence that this topic was tackled in good faith; the writers themselves admitted to being "too ambitious", so I think they know they kinda messed up. And if we compare this to, say, the beastlings from Octopath 2, it's certainly handled much much better in comparison imho! However, it wasn't able to be handled with the full nuance and depth that it deserved, and so the whole plotline suffers deeply despite the attempts to do it justice. There's definitely worse fantasy racism out there, like I don't think this is the worst, but it's not the best either. It tries tho at least

I don't want to go into too much more detail bcus spoilers. But I think you've talked before on how much you hate this kind of stuff so I wanted to make sure you knew about this ahead of time. If this makes you not wanna watch the show I'd totally understand

But I do sincerely think that, if this didn't scare you away, the show is rly worth a shot! It's not for everyone but I personally think it's great despite its flaws (which I can mostly forgive due to the aforementioned external factors) and there's a lot of things here you could enjoy

If you do choose to give it a try I'd recommend going into it with as little information as possible, it's a show most enjoyed when you don't know what comes next. (I mean I am enjoying my rewatch cus I can catch foreshadowing and details but I may be biased bcus hyperfixation lol)

(But don't enter the fandom unless or until you're ready to block tags and block ppl willy nilly. It's the wild west out here, from the terrible bad faith takes to the excessive obsession with shipping. I just stick with the few good RWBY blogs I follow and call it good personally lol)

So yeah I think it's pretty cool but due to that one thing, if you don't think you'd like it I get it

Question: is it that the creators are racist (eg, what happened to the beastlings) or that there's in universe racism? (eg, dungeon meshi)

[littlespace-imagines]

Broken Dreams pt.10

Warning

Pairing: Cg!Jason the Toymaker × little reader

Contains: very dark, abusive themes, forced

Littlespace, kidnapping, toxic cg/| dynamic, unhealthy relationships, humiliation as punishment, time confusion

*This is very different from my regular stories on this account, please exercise caution*

**Ageregression and Littlespace will never be sexualized on this blog**

Your head pounded

Your mouth was dry

You opened your eyes, the world around you was blurry and disoriented, it wasn't long before your eyes finally focused,

You were in a fucking cell.

You stood up and peered between the bars of the cell you were confined in, the room outside of the cell was very tidy and neat, there was dark red walls and a big bed with black blankets on it aswell as a dresser and vanity, the cell was in direct eyesight of the bed. You looked around inside the cage and your heart sank, there was a sippy cup of water placed next to the small air mattress with (favorite color) blankets on it, there was a few stuffed animals on the bed, there was also a small bookshelf with children's books and coloring books on it, there was also a toy box with all kinds of toys filing it,

"I'm so glad you're awake." The voice of your captor pulls you out of your thoughts, you turn around and lock eyes with him,

"Where am I?" You ask and he rolls his eyes,

"Will you let me finish? You can ask questions when I say you can." He says, you close your mouth and stare at him,

"You answered my questions correctly so I've taken you to be mine." He says nonchalantly, as if he hadn't kidnapped you,

"First things first my name is Jason, but you can call me Daddy, you've obviously had a look around your new room and can understand what our dynamic will entail." He pauses,

"Now you can ask your questions." He stares at you with his arms crossed over his chest, he's leaning against the black bed frame, your head spins as you take in this information but you had to choose your first question wisely,

"Our dynamic? I've never heard of that." You say cautiously, hoping to not piss him off, you're guessing this was the correct thing to ask because he lights up and walks up to only a few feet infront of your cell with a wolfish grin on his face,

"Well you're going to be my little, we have two different dynamics, one that's nonsexual where I take of you, my adorable little love, and the other is a very standard dom and sub dynamic this one will be sexual." He says and you stare at him blankly,

"We're only going to focus on the first one for now, we will discuss rules and other important things here soon." He finishes.

"Okay, wow that's a lot to take in." You say,

"Alrighty, no more questions." He says and you stare at him

"What?! I only got to ask one thing!" You yell at him, his gaze turns icy, his yellow eyes flash blue he waves his hand and the cell opens he walks in and the door shuts behind him,

"I can see that you're already going to try and make this difficult and I will not tolerate that." He says and you both stand there, neither of you daring to move, it's at this moment you finally take in the man's features, he has shaggy long red hair and an almost perfect features, his face is so perfect it's a bit off.

"Well? Are you going to be difficult?" He barked and you flinched in shock

"No, no, I won't I'll be good." You say softly

"Good. I'll let you now now the more you misbehave the more privileges you loose." He says and you look at him confused,

"Privileges?" You ask quietly and he nods another smile creeps its way onto his features, he waved his hand and walked out of the cell, the door closing right behind him you follow him with your eyes and watch nervously as he approaches the dresser and opens the top drawer he pulls something out and turns around hiding the object behind his back,

"Tell me, Baby, have you noticed you're not wearing the same clothes I brought you here with?" He says and you look down at your body to see that you're now dressed in a pair of baby pink footie pajamas, you look back up at him in horror,

"Unzip it." He says and you shake your head no,

"Are you disobeying your daddy?" He says and tears fill your eyes, he's going to make you take your clothes off,

"I'm waiting, if you make me wait any longer I'm going to punish you." He says and you start unzipping the pajamas as tears fall down your face, once the pajamas are completely unzipped you finally gain the courage to look at the red haired man to see that he was now standing inches away from you, he used one hand to push the pajamas off your shoulders revealing your torso, you let out a sigh of relief once you saw you were still wearing your underwear.

"You see these?" He asks, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, you feel blush spread across your face as you nod, not breaking eye contact with the tall man infront of you,

"These are a privilege, if you don't behave I'll have no choice but to put you in this." He says as he pulls a diaper from behind his back, you stare at it with a grimace on your face, you can feel your embarrassment deepen, you can already feel shame despite the fact he's just holding the object.

"Look at that, I think maybe you'll behave after all." He coos at you, he softly caresses your cheek with a wicked grin on his face.

[thesomewhatliterateaxolotl]

Hi!! Question, since you do a lot of IDs (image descriptions) do you have any resources or tips for someone who wants to start writing them as well? What to pay special attention to, what is irrelevant, checklists etc?

Hi Anon!! This made me so happy to see. I'm glad you're interested in writing ID's!!

It's definitely not as overwhelming as it may seem. I will say I'm still learning myself, but here's my process. I boiled down my steps into a basic checklist to get you started:

Describe the category of image (digital/traditional art, photo, social media screenshot, etc.), unless it's already stated in the post.

Next, the summary. Pretend you're explaining the image to a friend (since that's pretty much the goal). You'll find yourself naturally starting out with the broadest/most obvious things. If it's a drawing or a photo, for example, that'll be the main subject[s] and whatever they're doing: "[Character] holds a bouquet of roses." "A fluffy cat blinks at the camera." OneLook Reverse Dictionary is your friend if you can't find the word for an action or pose.

Then, once you have your super basic one-to-two sentences, you can start on the details. When I'm low on energy or time, I stick to describing the most punchy details of the image: "A heart-shaped frame surrounds the characters. The piece uses pinks and reds." I also found this site for identifying drawing styles. For art, pay attention to color (or lack thereof), presence/absence of line art, and shading. For photos, describe style, mood, and color if you think it's relevant. It might be for artistic photography, not so much for a news article or a meme.*

There are different ways to demarcate your ID. You've probably seen that I use brackets around the description ( [ ] ) and sometimes a slash ( / ) right before writing "end ID." I've heard these aren't required, but lots of people prefer the visual distinction.

Use plain text (normal-sized font, no fancy formatting). You'd think it'd go without saying, but I've seen far too many people write their ID's in tiny font. Bold text at the beginning and end is fine, but that's about it.

Some subjective language is fine for describing mood (melancholy, cheerful, etc.), but don't overdo it. Don't add jokes that aren't in the image itself.

*For fictional characters, I usually only describe their outfits and features if they deviate from canon. For real people, I use my judgement on whether describing these details is relevant: Without those details, would they miss out on something important?

As for what's irrelevant, people have different preferences. I've heard from some blind and low vision people that they prefer really straightforward descriptions, while others prefer the detailed ones because they give them an equal or equivalent experience to what a sighted person would have.

I try to strike a balance, writing shorter descriptions for memes/informational images and longer ones for art. Active voice can help simplify your ID, though this isn't a strict rule.

What I have almost universally heard, though, is this: Even the most basic ID is better than none. If all you can do is a quick one-sentence description, that's ok! You've still opened up a previously inaccessible image to a new audience.

Now for resources:

Image Desc. Guidelines - This helped me out a lot when I started out!

Writing Image Descriptions

Giant Google Doc for Describing Memes

Resource for Video Desc. (I'm still learning how to improve my VD's myself)

Lastly, I know not everyone likes joining discord servers to ask questions, but The People's Accessibility Server is a great resource. (I removed the link because I couldn't find a way to hide my discord # from the invite, and I don't want to just put it out there, but here's this invite via keplercryptid's blog.) You can ask for advice, for someone to review your ID's, or even for someone to write them for you. You can DM me as well if you're comfortable with that.

I hope this is a good starting point for you, anon!! Best of luck <3

[redfoxrunt]

So, hey babes. The like, two of you who probably aren't reading the blog anyway, and all of the hot singles in my area. Just feels more like... talking to the potential of someone here than on Dreamwidth, where the follower count is one account. This is gonna be crazy, but I'm fairly sure I already warned you (nonspecific) about that in the header or pinned post or whatnot; it's what you get, right?

Talking about my parents.

I'm in an insanely unique position, being the child that my parents lost. You don't really get perspective like that from most cases, and yet. I also have it on two levels, rather than just one; first I was the child that was estranged from them, stopped returning calls, etc., and then the child that died. I assume they were at my funeral, but maybe not. I honestly can't even tell if, under the circumstances, they would have been notified that I died. How much of it was in the news? How much information are you entitled to if you're not listed as a contact for the person who's dead? Like, the whole thing is a fucking mess, and obviously I wasn't there to witness any of it, so yeah.

It's not because they did a bad job with me (or D, for that matter.) We always got the best in life as far as they could provide, we were middle class and privileged in that our parents loved each other and loved us and practiced good parenting to the degree that two human beings can. Sometimes they were tired, sometimes they were pissed off, sometimes we tired them, but at the end of the day we were always loved, and that's not something you can take for granted in life. I guess that's part of the problem, though, like - as shitty and entitled as that sounds. Because after Danny died, it was like... the illusion shattered. I spent weeks back home after, because I couldn't exist in my own skin with what had happened and what I'd seen and what I couldn't understand or put into words or any of it, and the child part of me was like... when things are scary and don't make sense, you go home. Real home, not your flat where you're all alone and all the sounds from outside freak you out like you've never heard your neighbours exist before. And the reality check was when none of that helped. My parents didn't come to my bedroom (guest bedroom; they'd repurposed the house since we moved out, like normal people tend to do) for more than to let me know dinner's served or to ask me if I wanted to go out for a little while. And when I didn't, that was all. The realisation that that was all they could do, that no amount of me crying would have them bring my brother back, it killed something in me that I didn't even know I'd had before then. I realised that I can't go home because home isn't this magical safe space where everything will be alright, even though they'd taught me that as a kid. Home had always been the magical place where you go to make everything better, but after D's death, after the funeral, it felt just as fake as - you know? Like a staged play. Nothing in it was real anymore, everything I'd been taught was a lie, and the world is a shitty, horrible, fucked up place that doesn't care about you or your loss or your grief or your pleas. And your parents are just people. And I guess I hated them for it, because they'd lied to me that they were something omnipotent when all along they were just people, just like me, just as powerless and unable to change anything that had happened or would happen next or ever. Blowing on a bruise never did fuck all to heal it. It's all a fucking lie.

So, I don't know how much anybody else knows about what I did after that, I have a really skewed idea of how much of that is "known" and how much of it I just think should be known, but once I got back on my feet, I was vengeful as fuck and not thinking straight. Part of my revenge was to cut my parents off. Stop answering calls, one word text messages if I needed to reply to something, and when they did what I was clearly asking them to do which was leave me the fuck alone and stop trying to poke their noses into my life, I saw that as further proof that I was right to be angry at them for... failing me, or Danny, or something. For not being fucking wizards.

So that's child loss on child loss for them. I don't recall really thinking about it much at the time. I don't think I was thinking much in general, period, it's just - every time they'd contact me, I'd get this surge like heartburn but in my veins and get this urge to chuck my fucking phone at a wall or out the window. Like fuck off from my life, stop reminding me of everything that's wrong, stop trying to approach me like I'm being unreasonable, because what I feel and how I'm acting is the most reasonable thing in the world. "Tim you need help" just reinforces that there's no help to be had and I'm in this shit alone and other people just make it worse because when I look at them, I know they're the same as me. Nobody can do anything about anything. And it's the sense of powerlessness that I can't take, right? That feeling that we're all just lying to ourselves and each other about having control.

I don't have the energy or interest to go into the rest of that story. There isn't much to talk about in terms of my parents anyway, since I'd cut them off. But it's a sore subject to talk about, like most things, when we try to approach it with D here. When I'm not ignoring he exists to begin with because I just fucking cannot and what am I even supposed to do with any of this, it's still like we're mostly making small-talk about subjects that barely matter while maybe tapping the ice on shit we really need to be talking about with a thin stick, because that's all the ice can take. Diving into child memorial pages, child loss blogs, etc. was both accidental and the bravest and most direct thing we've done so far to address any of it. Felt good to do it together, and just not say a thing while at it. Just experience that side by side and know that he's feeling what I'm feeling and thinking what I'm thinking and that's enough for now. He's joked that maybe it's in the genes for us, the not being able to address things, not wanting to talk. He's better at it than I am, though. At least he tries. I don't know if I'm trying or if I'm just being led along like a blind ass, but either way, it's things we've got to get to if I ever want to feel... less like shit again, I guess. It's fucked trying to do this without a proper therapist but then again talking to a therapist didn't really work the first time around, and now we don't have one to go to. But yeah, reading through all of that was soothing in some sense, which is also fucked up. It's feelings that I haven't gotten to yet. Something about like, maybe I did matter a little after all. Maybe I and my life were beautiful to them. Maybe they saw me like that, too. I don't know. All I feel most days is a failure, or burden, or just not good enough for anybody. So... yeah. Guess that's pretty much all.