#no world-building post today since I was busy but here have this

[writingwithcolor]

Happy New Year 2025 from WWC

Hello everyone,

Merry, cheery holidays! The WWC team and I have been making many silent strides closer to a writingwithcolor.org.

What we've been up to

While the going has been slow, we've made a lot of progress since raising donations from you guys to go towards a .org, which we've secured ever since. With this support and encouragement, we plan to maintain the blog as a permanent resource.

As for progress and use of donations

Times have been busy and oh, so trying, but we're trying harder. Also, donations (and free time) have been going to good use.

For instance, we've:

Cleaned up (Added, removed, renamed, combined) WWC post tagging for clarity and consistency.

Created mirroring pages on new blog (e.g. navigation, stereotypes and tropes navigation, etc.)

Migrated all blog posts to our standalone blog (4000 some posts)

Maintained the URL ($12 a year, Writingwithcolor.org, hidden from view lately as we get closer to launch, although we've had it redirecting to Tumblr only until recently)

Overall building out blog content on the host site ($15.99 a month)

Next steps are to:

Finalize our theme (The fun part)

Finish blog post cleanup on the migrated posts (WIP!).

More actions at a latter date after publishing

Currently, I have been going through each and every post, one-by-one, to:

Edit, update and refine content

Fix broken links

Improve accessibility, particularly on image-heavy posts

A lot of changed in the world since 2014, so we want even our earliest posts to reflect today's standards or at least note if something is olden days or we have a more helpful post or resource since.

Example of a post on the .org. Final theme and colors not applied yet

Soft launch and new hopeful publish date

This is the end stretch before we have an official SOFT LAUNCH!

We're considering it soft since there are just some things we can't easily correct yet or will just make everything take even longer to wait on. We'll continue to cross-link between here and there as we work on getting it all centralized, though.

But to be clear, as intended, we'll continue to post on tumblr as well as long as it sticks around.

Our new prospective publish date is for Spring 2025, in which we can also re-open to questions, release new guides, invite new members, etc. etc.

But who knows - perhaps we will get a chance to answer some questions in between then.

Thank you and let's catch up!

All of your support and patience has been so appreciated. Thank you for sticking around throughout the extended hiatus. Nonetheless, I do hope our robust depository of existing answers, detailed guides, recommendations, reblogs and so on has been helpful with your creative, professional and academic pursuits.

What have you all been up to? What strides have you made in 2024 and what goals do you have for 2025? Have you published any works? We want to hear it all. Share with us on this post!

Wishing you all a happy and healthy 2025,

~Colette and WWC team

[reallyromealone]

Can you do (whatever characters you like) x male omega reader?

I don’t care what character(s) get put x reader.

Plot: Toman was in a meeting talking about god knows what when reader begins to enter pre-heat. Chaos insues

Title: atypical courting

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Toman + others

Fic type: smut

Pairings: all x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, nsfw, smut, Omega male reader, group sex, double penetration

Notes: I just added everyone in here, it's all post story version's but crime ✨

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

He's known them most of his life, Mikey coming to his dad's bakery almost daily and witnessing (name) beat the crap out of a thief trying to rob them, immediately asking him to join Toman even if he was an Omega.

That was ten years ago, and here he was.

On top of the world.

Being a Toman executive wasn't easy, especially as (name) secondary gender but he made it work as he kept a constant supply of suppressants to keep his heat at bay, refusing to be seen in a moment of weakness by the other Toman executives.

(Name) And the others always had... Tension between them, not hostile not but more so sexual, they had for a very long time and neither parties actually handed it from the occasional light pass to a grope, a game of cat and mouse.

Mikey, hanma and Kisaki were one of the worst ones with their infatuation, obsessed with him without ever doing anything.

(Name) Was annoyed as he sat in the meeting, he called in sick for a reason and nooo! He had to be here to hear about god damn taxable buildings they needed to check up on! (Name) Was prepping for his upcoming heat, his preheat would hit any day now and he just didn't want to be here when it happened.

He couldn't afford to be vulnerable with people present.

"(Name), you good? Yer' sweatin' fucking buckets" Baji barked out as everyone turned to look at (name) who was barely present as a sweet smell filtered through the room, the smell of preheat.

"Why did you come if you were in preheat?!" Kisaki yelled and (name) hissed back at him "I TRIED AND YOU WERE LIKE NO EXCUSES! THIS IS IMPORTANT!" he did not care that he was yelling at a Toman vp, his stomach cramping and headache forming as he shakily stood "I'll bring you home" chifuyu and mitsuya said in a synchronized tone before glaring at one another "I'm fine, I'll just go home" (name) grunted as he stood, shaking slightly as he walked out of the room but he didn't get too far as the Toman executives be worked with daily flanked his side's, the Haitani brothers just behind him as hanma wrapped his arm around his waist.

"Back off!" (Name) Hissed at them "I'm a grown man, I can handle myself" he glared and removed Hanmas hand and the specticalled man smiled at the other as if he were an angry kitten "you have an alpha to care for you?" Draken said seriously and (name) looked cross "that's none of any of your business" (name) moved faster down the hall and towards the elevator, pushing them back with little effect as they towered over and got in, (name)s headache and cramp being particularly hard and a pained whine escaped his lips "you haven't had a heat in a while, what has it been a year? Since you had one?" Kisaki said to the other while pulling him closer from behind "we all know you don't have friends outside of Toman"

"And we know you want us as much as we want you" Muto finally pipped up as Mikey pulled him closer, hips touching each other and the smell of pharamones made (name) hazy "let us treat you good... Be our pack Omega" Mikey commanded softly, watching (name) sway slightly before the short blond lifted him effortlessly "just... Just don't claim me..." He whispered, thankful he was wearing his collar today as they all grinned.

(Name) Didn't know whose cock was where as he was double penetrated, when one cock thrusted in the other thrusted out as someone's cock was in his mouth, jerking off others as he was surrounded by alphas and cocks as he was touched and most of all filled to he brim.

"Alphaaa~" if (name) were even slightly coherent he would be horrified at the fact he was pulling his boss closer with his ankles around the blonds neck as he jerked off smileys cock that was right by his lips, moving to take it in his mouth with a soft hum.

"God, we should have made you ours forever ago.." pah said drained, having had the soul sucked from him via (name)s tight ass "you think he would be a house Omega? Bare foot?" Angry asked curiously as he too recovered and Draken snorted "he would rip out our eyes for even suggesting that"

It was true, despite being cock drunk and needy now, they knew he was too work driven to even think of that, he wasn't a house Omega who would sit all docile for them.

They literally saw him beat the shit out of a lower employee for losing a cargo box of drugs.

So that said enough.

"I'm just happy we don't have to dance around each other... I wanted so many times to take him in my office" Koko said and Sanzu grunted in agreement "I once saw him climb the lounge kitchen counter and his ass was at face level, took everything not to shove my face in his plush ass" Sanzu was almost hard thinking about it but (name) fucked him out of commission for at least a day.

It had only been five hours and the Omega is just getting exhausted as he let the there's do as they pleased to him, eyes barely staying open as he took what was given.

(Name) Woke up sore, real sore as he sat up to see bodies all over the room, chatting or sleeping as the Omega processed what happened "you need another knot baby?" Baji asked as he chugged a water bottle as Angry looked at (name) curiously as poor (name) processed what took place, cum leaking from his ass as he shakily got out of Draken and Kakuchos hold "what... Fuck... Ow" (name)s hips and ass hurt as he nearly fell over, caught by smiley who snickered at the other man's pain "what did you all go to town on me?!"

"Yuuup" the pink haired twin said kissing his cheek with a cackle "I need a shower..." (Name) Grumbled as he stumbled to the washroom with a hard limp, kicking out any horny alphas that tried to join him.

(Name) Soaked in the bath as he thought about what transpired... He just fucked all his co-workers.

And his bosses!

Oh god he got railed by Mikey and Draken at once.

Memories flooded back as he remembered everything they said to him, everything he did!

He practically attacked Kisaki for his dick!

He didn't hear the washroom door open as mitsuya walked in dressed in nice clothes, a to go bag in one hand and clothes in the other "you haven't eaten since last night" mitsuya chuckled as he crouched before (name) "we got you some breakfast" he said as (name) looked confused "why?"

"You're the pack Omega, gotta keep you taken care of"

"I'm no--""-- we aren't asking you to quit, we just want you and we know you wanted in our pack... To stubborn to admit it"

(Name) Flushed as he didn't deny it and looked at the food they got him, his favorites all present as the Alpha tried to feed him "you have wet hands, you might drop a chopstick"

After the bath, Mikey tried to demand (name) live with one of them preferably him but (name) shut that shit down "I am not going to be your back and call fuck toy " he grumbled and Mikey glared but the pout proved his harmlessness at that moment.

"Next time, in not letting you all rail me back to back"

"No promises"

[majestyeverlasting]

A Little Less Restless

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (friends to lovers)

Summary: As Bucky finds himself within the still familiarity of Brooklyn, he comes to realize that he deserves nice things. And, most of all, that he deserves you.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I haven't posted any new writing in a bit, and it feels good to be resolving that (yay me). Please enjoy this piece I wrote today. Lot's of fluff and very obvious feelings. It's been a while since I wrote something for him. <3

Three knocks sound on Bucky’s front door as his reflection stares back at him in the bathroom. He's leaning close to the mirror in careful criticism. Enough to see the green flecks in his irises. The freckles on his cheeks from being in the sun. The pricks of hair making up his scruff. Then he eases back and squares his shoulders. They fall after he releases a breath. 

He prays he doesn’t look as restless as he feels. 

The smile you give him when he answers the door carries a warmth he isn’t sure he deserves. But he takes it because that’s all he can do. Enjoy it like a man who’s been cold his whole life. By some miracle, he feels himself smiling back in that small, weighted way of his. It was a trade off of sorts, and now you’re even. No outstanding debts. 

He motions you inside with a soft please, and you study him once you’re in the foyer. In the few seconds that you’re silently observing, Bucky wishes he knew exactly why. As tender as your gaze is, heat was already rising to his cheeks. But like everything else when it comes to you, he takes it. Looks right back at you shyly, pushes his hands into his pockets, and waits. 

“Your hair’s shorter,” you finally say, smile growing wider. “Did you cut it?” 

“Cut it,” he repeats like a question, hands moving to run through it. The previous night creeps back to the forefront of his mind. 

When he’d gone for a walk to get some air and inadvertently found himself being drawn in by the red, white, and blue barber’s pole spiraling on the next block. It’d been ages since he’d gone to a professional, but walking inside to the faint scent of tobacco and aftershave made him feel as though he’d never stopped. 

“Mhm,” you hum, certain. 

The stumped look on his face vanishes like it was never supposed to be there. “I went and got it trimmed at a place called Ricky’s last night.” 

“And you forgot that quickly?” Next thing he knows, you’re wrapping him in an embrace, peeking up at him after a few seconds, “I’m teasing.” 

He squeezes you back tighter. 

It’s you who eventually pulls away, and he finds himself trailing you as you venture deeper into his apartment, eyes roving thoughtfully. A coffee table now complements the couch in the living room. The walls are no longer bare. At long last, the space was beginning to look more like a home. 

For the longest time, Bucky had only seen it as a place to rest his head after countless assignments that took him miles away. It didn’t need to be anything special, or so he thought. One of the first things you told him upon coming into his life was that he needed a constant. A place to come back to that he could make his own. That was his. He’d spent so much of his life serving other people and belonging to other people that he was finally learning what it meant to be his own. 

It was exhausting not being halfway across the world with a task to busy his mind. Brooklyn was still in comparison. A place where he could recognize street names, faces, point out buildings that used to be something else when he was a kid. And now there was you, who made being stateside worthwhile in a way he didn’t think was possible. He realized then, how much he’d deprived himself of meaningful connections outside of work. 

“It looks great in here, Buck. What’d I tell you?” Your earnesty is genuine. Makes him, as old and borderline cynical as he is, feel special. “You’re gonna have to start inviting me over more.” You shoot him a wink, and he freezes because of the weight of the implication. If you notice, you don’t say anything. 

A few months ago you’d been strangers crossing paths. Then acquaintances. Now friends who cared about each other a whole awful lot. Only, it was more obvious on your end. He kept most of his sentiments guarded, not yet ready for them to bleed out like an open wound. It didn’t help that you were always wielding a knife, coming closer and closer to cut through the wall he built around himself. 

“You can come over whenever you want,” he says. “I’m always here.” 

“When you’re not on assignment,” you add. “And I know. I just don’t want to scare you away.” 

Bucky frowns at the suggestion, but his lips eventually turn up. “Good thing you’re not a scary person,” he says, counting on earning a laugh. Something. 

And you do, right before shaking your head. “I’m serious.” 

“You couldn’t scare me away,” he assures. 

You nod slowly. “So how’ve you been?” There’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue, so he waits it out. It ends up punching him right in the gut. “You look…I don’t know.” 

It hadn’t been all too long since he’d come back from Morocco. Only a week. And it would be a while before he was sent out anywhere else. His mind was in the constant process of drifting to the type of thoughts all men sifted through when they have nothing but time. Those regarding purpose, belonging, and meaning. Not to a deep, crippling degree, but enough to make him want to spring into some sort of action. Find something to indulge in that wasn’t saving the world. 

Bucky swallows and shifts his weight. “Restless,” he offers. “Didn’t think you’d notice.” 

“I’ll always notice.” Silence stretches between the two of you and a siren wails in the distance. “Maybe we can go out tonight, just you and me. Is that something you’d wanna do?” The question sounds shy. 

What you didn’t know quite yet is that he’d probably do just about anything if it was with you. 

***

At the end of the night, it’s Bucky who pulls out his card and pays for dinner. Not even giving you the chance to think about digging into your purse. As an old tune continues playing overhead, your grateful eyes sparkle at him from across the table. 

Neither of you had dined here before. It’s one of the places Bucky said used to go by a different name and was run by a different family, Italians. You liked listening to him talk about what once was because it made you realize just how much he knew. Just how thoughtful and reverent he was when it came to the good memories he had. 

Being listened to so intently was new for him. But he enjoyed it. Especially when you’d ask questions or bring up a point he made further back in the conversation. By the time the waiter comes back around with his card and his copy of the receipt, the two of you are basking in the memory of the evening and thinking about what the rest of the night may hold. 

“This was really nice,” he says, folding his napkin and setting it aside on the table. Then his expression becomes consumed by a certain solemness. “I don’t know how well it comes across, but I need you to know that I appreciate you. A lot.”

Your heart nearly bursts. “I know, Bucky,” you promise. He still looks unconvinced, so you extend your hand face up on the table for him to take. “I know.” 

The cab ride back to his place is quiet. You hold onto his hand the whole way, relishing the feeling of his thumb tracing back and forth over your skin. It’s a gesture that says I’m here with, I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me. Brooklyn passes by in rushes of darkness peppered with light. Pedestrians walk alongside the streets, some holding hands just like the two of you. It isn’t long before the driver pulls up alongside the curb of the complex. 

It isn’t until you’re in the elevator that you’re sure that you want to stay. 

The two of you get off at the fifth floor. 

“Is it okay if I spend the night? If not, I completely understand. I know it’s such short notice,” you ramble as he’s turning his key into the door. He hopes you don’t notice the way he falters. But part of him knows you do. You don’t miss anything. Luckily for him, you’re just as fazed by your own question, holding your breath. 

It’s not until you’re inside that he graces you with an answer, “‘Course you can.”

Your shoulders drop in relief. What you’re not expecting is the laugh he tries to bite back. Maybe it was mean of him, but he liked knowing he could make you sweat. Sometimes it seemed like it was only ever you who made him openly anxious. 

“You’re terrible,” you accuse, failing at restraining a smile. “Absolutely horrible.” You’d forgotten to throw away an empty water bottle before you left, and it’s the closest thing you’re able to throw his way in retaliation. He catches it and tosses it in the trash himself. 

Mischief written all along his smile when he starts towards you. 

Partly scared and partly excited, you think to flee at the last second. After a few measly steps, you’re being pulled back into the firmness of his chest. He’s sure enough laughing now, the vibration rushing straight into your back right along with the warmth of his body. So are you. He only has one arm secured around your waist and, despite the fact that he’s not even trying, it's enough to hold you. 

“Wait, wait, wait—hold on a second!” your words come out giggly both because you’re anticipating some sort of attack, and because he’s never held you quite like this before. Unlike a normal hug, this feels like he has you rather than you having each other. It’s vulnerable. Dizzying. 

“You win, you win!” 

“What?” he laughs in surprise. His mouth is so close to your ear that you shiver. “Thought you had more fight in you than that,” there’s a playful warmth to his words. 

You shake your head in denial and relax back into him. You didn’t stand a chance of winning unless he let you, and you were more than willing to tap out early. Because even so, you were still in his arms at his mercy, and somehow that felt like the safest place to be. By the time you realize both of your laughter has faded to a thoughtful silence, he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to the shell of your ear. 

When he lowers his arm from around your waist, you turn around to face him. 

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. He suddenly looks boyish, younger. Having crawled out of whatever shell of crushing expectation and responsibility he usually resided within. 

When he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, his shoulders relax and his breaths slow. And for once, he indulges. In you. In the prospect of having someone to lean on and being leaned on in return. It’s a reminder that he’s allowed to experience nice things. To have a life to look forward to outside of lending himself to cause after cause. 

You’re soft, and warm, and everything good a person could be. He pulls away slowly after a while, blinking down at you with heavy eyelids. You’re looking right back at him like he’s the world itself. 

“Maybe you’re not so terrible,” you whisper, smiling. 

Of everything he was feeling now, restless wasn’t one of them. 

_

Thank you so much for reading! I promise I see every like, comment, and reblog and appreciate them all very much. 

To join my “taglist,” follow @taleseverlasting

[ayeforscotland]

What is Dataflow? Part 2: Diagrams

This is the second part of a couple of posts about Dataflow, particularly why it's important for the world going forward and relating to the Crowd Strike IT disaster.

Read the first part here.

Before I get into this one today, I wanted to address a couple of things.

Firstly, Dataflow is something that nearly every single person can understand. You do NOT:

Need to have a degree in Computing Science

Need to work in IT

Need to be a data analyst / Spreadsheet master

If any of you see the word 'Data' and feel your eyes glazing over, try and snap out of it because, if you're anything like me, Dataflow is much more approachable as a concept.

Secondly, what do I mean by IT?

Traditionally in most of our media the all-encompassing 'IT department' handles everything to do with technology. But every business works differently and there are many job titles with lots of crossover.

For example, you can be an infrastructure engineer where your focus is on building and maintaining the IT infrastructure that connects your organisation internally and externally. This is a completely different role from an Application Portfolio Manager who is tasked with looking after the Applications used in business processes.

Both are technical people and come under the banner of 'IT' - but their roles are focused in different areas. So just bear that in mind!

Now that's out of the way, let's begin! This one will be a little bit deeper, and questions welcome!

An Intro to Diagrams

You probably do not need a history of why pictures are important to the human race but to cover our bases, ever since we put traced our hands on a cave wall we have been using pictures to communicate.

Jump forward in time and you have engineers like Leonardo Da Vinci drafting engineering schematics.

You get the idea, humans have been creating diagrams (Pictures) for thousands of years. Centuries of refinement and we have much more modern variations.

And there's one main reason why diagrams are important: They are a Common Language.

In this context, a Common Language helps bridge a language gap between disciplines as well as a linguistic gap. A Spanish electrician and a German electrician should be able to refer to the same diagram and understand each other, even if they don't know each other's language.

The reason they can do this is because they're are international standards which govern how electrical diagrams are created.

A Common Language for Digital?

Here's an image I've shown to clients from governments and institutions to global organisations.

Everything around us, from the products we use to the bridges we drive over and the buildings we live, work, enjoy and shop in had diagrams backing them.

You would not build a skyscraper without a structural engineering diagram, you would not build an extension on your house if an architect couldn't produce a blueprint.

Why is there not an equivalent for the Digital World and for Dataflow?

Where is the Digital Common Language?

This is the bit where the lightbulb goes on in a lot of people's heads. Because, as I mentioned in Part 1, the flow of data is the flow of information and knowledge. And the common mistake is that people think of dataflow, and only ever think about the technology.

Dataflow is the flow of information between People, Business Processes *and* Technology Assets.

It is not reserved to Technology specialists. When you look at the flow of data, you need to understand the People (Stakeholders) at the top, the processes that they perform (and the processes which use the data) and the technology assets that support that data.

The reason why this is important is because it puts the entire organisation in context.

It is something that modern businesses fail to do. They might have flow charts and network diagrams, and these are 'alright' in specific contexts, but they fall to pieces when they lack the context of the full organisation.

For example, here is a Network Diagram. It is probably of *some* value to technical personnel who work in infrastructure. Worth bearing in mind, some organisations don't even have something like this.

To be absolutely clear, this diagram will hold some value for some people within the organisation. I'm not saying it's completely useless. But for almost everyone else, it is entirely out of context, especially for any non-technical people.

So it doesn't help non-technical people understand why all of these assets are important, and it doesn't help infrastructure teams articulate the importance of any of these assets.

What happens if one of those switches or routers fails? What's the impact on the organisation? Who is affected? The diagram above does not answer those questions.

On the other side of the business we have process diagrams (aka workflow diagrams) which look like this.

Again we run into the same problem - This is maybe useful for some people working up at the process layer, but even then it doesn't provide context for the stakeholders involved (Are there multiple people/departments involved throughout) and it doesn't provide any context for technical personnel who are responsible for maintaining the technology that supports this process.

In short, nobody has the big picture because there is not a common language between Business & IT.

Conclusion

So what do we do? Well we need to have a Common Language between Business & IT. While we need people with cross-functional knowledge, we also need a common language (or common framework) for both sides of the organisation to actually understand each other.

Otherwise you get massively siloed departments completely winging their disaster recovery strategies when things like Crowd Strike goes down.

Senior Management will be asked questions about what needs to be prioritised and they won't have answers because they aren't thinking in terms of Dataflow.

It's not just 'We need to turn on everything again' - It's a question of priorities.

Thing is, there's a relatively simple way to do it, in a way that looking at any engineering diagram feels simple but actually has had decades/centuries of thought behind it. It almost feels like complete common sense.

I'll save it for Part 3 if you're interested in me continuing and I'll make a diagram of my blog.

The important thing is mapping out all the connections and dependencies, and there's not some magic button you press that does it all.

But rigorous engineering work is exactly that, you can't fudge it with a half-arsed attempt. You need to be proactive, instead of reacting whenever disaster strikes.

[sanctum-of-ramshackle]

🔪🪓 GIVE IT UP FOR I.N.K.!🩸🎤

[TWST AU]: This MC/Yuu/[Reader] may have more than just fairytale magic.

[Synopsis]: In this timeline, MC/Yuu/[Reader] returns back from the “dead” and is ready to unleash their horror-based magic. Also to understand that they were resting for about 30 years.

[Gender Neutral!MC/Yuu/[Reader]]

[TW]: Mentions of murder, blood and horror movie depictions of violence.

[(A/N)]: Hi everyone. It’s been a while since I last posted any content here. Things got busy IRL and also put up some content on my main blog. I’m sorry I didn’t warn anyone about my sudden break. Anywho, I wrote another MC/Yuu variant twisted from Ice Nine Kills (the vibe of the band).

To begin this journey, there is a hidden grave deep in the forest behind Night Raven College. Nobody has visited that very spot as their families have either passed or moved far away.

The etchings of the tombstone reads…

“Here Lies [Y/N]/MC/Yuu [L/N]”

“You Left Too Soon”

“Therefore If A Miracle Happens, Doom Will Be In Tune”

Then one night as the Dorm Sorting Ceremony, a storm occurs with lightning striking down.

Then, a strike hits the unbothered grave, electrocuting the fencing that protected the grave from trespasser and the ground shakes as a resurrection happens.

[The ground cracks open as a coffin unveils its lid and reveals a well-preserved corpse.]

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu/[Reader]: *Yawns from their supposed eternal slumber* That was a long nap…Why am I in a coffin?

[The living corpse leaves their disturbed burial and walks aimlessly out of the forest, unintentionally leading themselves to the NRC building.]

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu/[Reader]: I don’t remember much, but this place…

[Then a voice boomed across the hall to grab MC/Yuu’s attention.]

Crowley: *From afar* You! Why are not at the ceremony?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu/[Reader]: I beg your pardon.

Crowley: *Closing the distance between him and MC/Yuu* I asked what…are…you… *Stops dead at his tracks* You…How?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Old man, I don’t know what kind of ceremony is happening but I remember now. I’m already an NRC student.

[And so, after the ceremony ended, Crowley gathered the Staff members and explained they have a student returned from the dead. They weren’t pleased by this sudden information. In the meantime, MC/Yuu will have to start NRC again as a first year student and they were transferred to the infamous Ramshackle Dormitory.]

🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼

[At the Heartslabyul]

[MC/Yuu was invited by Cater as they joined back the Music Club and the MagiCam influencer thought they were cool.]

Cater: You got a new phone? Need help with anything?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu/[Reader]: I still need help with the apps. How do you find movies on this thing?

Cater: I can teach you.

[Few Minutes Later]

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Whoa! You guys released new horror films? It’s been years since I watched one. The last one I seen was some hockey-masked killer.

Cater: *Little concerned* MC/Yuu, when did you stop attending NRC?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Oh. Well…I guess around 30 years ago? Why asking, suddenly?

Cater: That explains why you asked what MagiCam is.

🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼

[During a Dorm Leader meeting]

Riddle: You’re explaining you used to attend Night Raven College 30 years ago?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Yeah, I used to be the president of the Music Club and still well versed in the darker side of magic.

Azul: What kind of magic you possess?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: The kind if you can stomach the macabre world. The goriest parts of that field.

Vil: Necromancy, I presumed?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Sort of. It’s hard to explain about my magic, but all I know is it gets stronger when I perform music.

Kalim: Like it’s your Unique Magic.

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Yeah, like that. Crazy how today’s people are using that term.

Leona: Still odd how you came back to life. You remember your old life?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: I remember my family used to live on this island and the accident that happened in this school…

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[Chapter 5: During the VDC event and Vil’s Overblot]

[Ice Nine Kills - Welcome To Horrorwood]

Epel: We need to distract Vil-Senpai.

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Allow me. I know the perfect song.

[Then the stage is set for MC/Yuu’s performance. They magically summoned a dark dome to cover the entire stadium for the light effects and manifest some pseudo band mates to play the appropriate instruments. Finally, they summoned their cursed electric guitar to fend off the latest Blot battle.]

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: *Starts singing*

Ink fills the page

A classic killer completes the cast

If evil's all the rage

Cut to the close up, then fade to black

Sit back for the sequel of your dreams

All psychos crave more shocking scenes

Who cares if it bleeds beyond the screen?

Are you misunderstood?

Are you more bad than good?

Welcome to Horrorwood

Where anyone would kill for a call back!

[They casted some powerful spells to weaken Overblot!Vil. The rest of the gang starts throwing their spells at the corrupted Head of Pomefiore.]

'Cause everyone is just so fucking…

Desperate for fame

Can't blame the savages this town attracts

I guess we're all insane (Insane!)

So silence the critics, 'cause this is not an act

(But here's the soundtrack!)

Sit back for the sequel of your dreams

All psychos crave more shocking scenes

Who cares if it bleeds beyond the screen?

Are you misunderstood? (YEAH!)

Are you more bad than good?

Welcome to Horrorwood

Where anyone would kill for a call back

The tabloids say

"There goes the neighborhood"

But long live Horrorwood

The only place it pays to be a hack!

(But will you make the cut if you know?)

Stardom's just an afterthought

For all those stabbed in the backlot

Piled up and left to rot

“So how's this for an establishing shot?”

[MC/Yuu shoots another fire spell at Overblot!Vil.]

Are you misunderstood? (YEAH!)

Are you more bad than good?

Welcome to Horrorwood

Where anyone would kill for a call back

The tabloids say

"There goes the neighborhood"

But long live Horrorwood

The only place where everyone should

Fear the premiere

There's always a target out on the red carpet

Between 'Silver Screams' something's awakened

And you'll never make it

But enjoy the show!

[They perform an impressive solo-guitar play as they summoned restraints to trap the weakened Overblot!Vil in one place.]

Are you misunderstood? (YEAH!)

Are you more bad than good?

Welcome to Horrorwood

Where anyone would kill for a call back

The tabloids say

"There goes the neighborhood"

But long live Horrorwood

The only place it pays to be a hack

Be a hack!

Welcome back!

[After the song finishes, MC/Yuu holds up their guitar and brutally swings it at Overblot!Vil to dislodge the Blot stone.]

Vil: *Turns back to normal and groans* What happened?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: You kind of went berserk and we had stop you from almost killing everyone.

Vil: I see. My head is aching, however.

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Uhhh…You probably hit your head during VDC.

🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼

[Back in Crowley’s Office]

Crowley: *Shaken up by day one* I couldn’t believe they’re back…

“Dire, you wanna hang out today?”

“Dire, you forgot the assignment? Fine, just copy mine but change it up a bit.”

“Dire…You’ll regret the day I resurrect from my slumber. Heed my warning!”

???: CROWLEY!

Crowley: *Spooked by the outburst* IT’S NOT MY FAULT!!!

Crewel: Great Seven, you seemed out of your mind lately.

Crowley: Oh, I’m extremely busy, especially since their return.

Crewel: Oh yeah. They seem to be doing well with academics despite having to teach them newer materials. Their magic is what I fear about them.

Crowley: Yes, yes. Their magic hasn’t changed much.

Crewel: Dire, I heard that.

Crowley: It’s nothing. I’m just worried about the students.

Crewel: Uh huh. I’ll leave my reports here. *Leaves the office*

Crowley: *Suddenly scared* What if they remember that day?

🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼🪓🎶🔪🎵🩸🎼

[Cafeteria]

Ace: You murdered someone?!

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: I didn’t murder anyone.

Sebek: Then what is this?! *Points at the crimson stain on their shirt*

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: *Wipes it off and taste the content* Oh, ground beef. I was helping Jade and Floyd with some hamburger orders.

Jack: And you just licked it? Won’t you get sick?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: I’m undead. Nothing’s gonna harm me, again. *Bites into their extremely rare steak as some myoglobin leaks down from their lips*

[The First Year group felt fear of their new friend.]

✨[Reblogs helps creators and creates for more content]💫

[priceoftheduchess]

oh, father! where art thou?

part four.

highschool au, long lost lovers, enemies to lovers if you squint, grumpy and sunshine-esque dynamics (eventually), simon riley & fem!reader.

cw) angst, use of 2nd person, allusions/vague depictions to intimacy eventually, drinking eventually, breakdowns, motherhood, simon riley is father, un-canon lore! all of it eventually, MILITARY INACCURACIES SORRY SUE ME also not proofread!!! :U

a/n: guys!!! i have 100 likes on this account already 🥹 i want to kiss you all! also peep the hamilton reference ;P (sorry listening to “the world was wide enough” rn LOLL)

a/n 2: THIS IS SO FECKIN SHORT IM SORRY luvvies i try my best omggg !! also i might try to start writing some more intimate scenes ! if that’s something you’d all want! i’ve never written anything super explicit so ! tips are appreciated (no pun intended)

to my favourites! @girl-lostconnection @alkalineapparition and everyone else!

a/n 3: (i can’t shut the fuck up) if you want to be on my tag list comment on this post / my masterlist / send me a message! okay sorry bye enjoy

previous part

— dianna

It has been nearly three months since you’ve seen Simon. Boot camp has been nothing short of Hell, he’s told you in his letters. But he also tells you he’s happy. That the busyness makes him forget about his family. Or the lack thereof. That the working out makes him feel human again, and he loves the physical labor. Loves feeling needed.

And you write back that you love him. And that you can’t wait to see him again.

But the tap out is today. You’re bouncing on your feet getting ready, dressed in the sweetest sundress you own, taming your waves and beating your face. You’re a vision by the time you’re done and you nearly fall down the stairs from excitement. Imagine that.

“Sorry babe! Can’t come get you! In the hospital! Catch a ride! :,)” Ludicrous.

You make it to your car by some miracle and you’re at awe at the English scenery, and how it swishes by in an instant. Old buildings lining the busy streets, and historical landmarks on each corner. Such a vibrant city, Manchester. You can’t wait for Simon to be reminded of all of it.

You drive an hour or so out of the city, to a base secluded in on open field. You’ve never been to this part of England, despite living your life here. You park your car among others. Among mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. You realize now, that even if Simon makes this a permanent thing, you will not be an island unto yourself.

This thought comforts you as you walk, guided by signs and fancy military higher-ups. You see a field of men, dressed nearly the same despite some missing hats and some donning a jacket. A man finishes making a speech that has no significance to you, and you search the sea of men for Simon.

Searching excitedly for him, you bump into a man who dwarfs you. He is considerably large, his shirt fighting for its life. You scramble to apologize, looking up at him to realize he’s wearing. . . a plain black balaclava? The bridge of his nose is visible between his eyes, but everything else is simply a shadow.

But you’ve seen these eyes before. These eyes have undressed you, and these eyes have watched you walk from your final lesson to the parking lot. These eyes watched you graduate secondary school.

Is this Simon?

Who is this? It can’t be him.

The man takes off the balaclava before your mental battle is over and shoves it into his back pocket, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders before kissing you sloppily — not giving you a moment to register the face under the fabric.

You pull away, your hand flying to pull your neckline above your cleavage again and you apologize.

“You have got the wrong girl, I can assure you! My boyfriend is around here somewhere. Maybe you know him? Simon?” And the man chuckles gruffly, forcing you to look at him.

“I know him well, dove,” he whispers softly, kissing your forehead. Millions of questions rush through your mind.

When did Simon get so strong?

What’s with the balaclava?

There is no time for you to ask for any answers before a man walks over, an ignorant saunter in his hips and a grin larger than life itself plastered on his face.

“This your bird, Ghost?” The man chuckles softly, patting your boyfriend’s back. He is so chipper and Scottish enough to almost make his words incoherent.

Ghost? What the hell happened while he was away from you?

“She’s my girlfriend, Johnny. Not just a bird,”

“Aye, my fault. Nice to meet you.” The man — Johnny — winks at you and shows himself off somewhere else.

“I’ll explain everythin’ later,” Simon says, as if he can read your thoughts. He follows you to the car, and the ride is silent.

So is dinner.

So is aftercare.

There are never answers. The balaclava sits on his desk, teasing you. Daring you to press the issue. But you never can. You wake up next to Simon for the duration of him being home, but you’re unsure who it is you’re truly waking up besides. Who has killed Simon and left this man in his space? In your bed? In your shower? Who has killed Simon and left this man to fuck you?

You feel horrible, you do. But, it’s. . . he’s quieter. Curter with you. This is when you decide to press the issue.

You decide while he’s nose-deep in your tits is best. Licking and biting like a man starved, getting his friction from the sheet.

“What’s with the mask?”

He audibly groans, negatively, and sits up. “Good timin’,” he snarks and goes to change into some new sweatpants. “Nothin’ ‘bout it, luv. Just don’t want all those people seein’ my face. I ‘on’t know. Didn’t figure it’d be an issue.” He explains, almost bored. “Don’t know these people. Don’t tell ‘em my name.”

“An’ you never thought to mention this’a me?” You’re not sure why you’re so irritated about this. Maybe because Simon has changed so much, so quickly. The muscle you don’t mind. But it’s everything else. The anonymity. The curtness. You know what happens from here, and it causes your eyes to sting. You know that one day, Simon will go from curt to silent. He will lose everything that brought you to him, and he will be a shell of himself. War is not kind. It is not gentle. It tears and destroys all in its path. War is not about what is right, it is who is left when all is said and done. And you’ve started crying.

“You’re different, Simon. You are short with me now. These is a different air about you. You don’t even wear the same cologne! You haven’t even unpacked your duffel, ‘ike you’re ready’a go back already! You’re still hiding things from me! Why are ya doin’ that?!” You’re ready to keep screaming but he cuts you off by shoving your face in his pecs. It’s not so bad here.

“Stop.” He orders. Already barking like orders like he’s some kind of Lieutenant. Oh, God, Lieutenant Riley? Could you imagine? You hope he lives to make it that far. “I understand why y’re upset, luv. Y’re scared of change, and of my change, but we weren’t goin’a be those same, timid fuckin’ secondary kids forev’a, yeah? Hell, y’ve changed ‘fore I did. Y’re gorgeous, and y’re a spitfire, luv. Got a sharp tongue now. I’m sorry if’ya think I’ve been short wit’ ya. And I’m not hidin’ nothin’ from you. I jus’ like my privacy, yeah? Don’t know those men, yeah? N’ I’m sorry that me losin’ the cologne is botherin’ ya, but it was from my Dad, luvvie. Couldn’t keep holdin’ on’na it.” He explains, and you feel a bit silly now. “We were bound’a change, luv.” He shrugs, kissing your head. “How can I make it easier for ya?” He asks, and your heart melts. You know now that you only have one condition.

“If you can just stay alive, that would be enough.” You plead, big ol’ doe eyes and batting eyelashes helping your case tenfold.

“I’ll fight for you, my luv. No one else can protect you like I can,” he says and you snort. So cocky, so quickly. You give him that luxury.

“Any other conditions, luv?” He asks, chuckling gruffly at your snort.

“I bought some new rubbers in preparation for today. Yes, there are many’a ways you can make this easier,” you wink. You’re stumbling into bed so quickly that you forget the rubber that started this to begin with.

Oh, what’s one round without it?

[floef-likes-minecraft]

Work

“Good moring~!” Pearl started as she crossed the DHP parking lot with a pep in her step. It was a beautiful day, she had been up since the crack of dawn riding around the Server on Donkey (who is a mule) to deliver all sorts of letters and parcels. While Tango and Etho were still busy getting the entire mailing system online, she was happy to deliver more by hand.

Recently, the DHP had gotten an influx in mail having to be delivered to them and Pearl had made friends with the somewhat grumpy clerk that was sometimes maybe around. Today he was, for which Pearl was happy because that meant she could give him the mail personally instead of trying to get it into the building by shoving it under the broken door. The office was still under construction, so Pearl could forgive them for not even having a small mailbox.

“We’re closed,” Grian said. He was lounging outside, sitting against the white wall of the building and taking in the sun that crested just over the trees. He looked like he could use a bit more of that sun, but not everybody was as blessed as Pearl to have the best job in the world as a Postmaster and be outside all the time.

“Oh, I’m just delivering the mail,” Pearl answered cheerfully as she dug into her postbag. Everything was perfectly organized so it didn’t take long for her to grab out a stack with at least ten letters bundled together. “There you go, mister Grian, it’s always such a pleasure coming out here!”

When Grian didn’t take the bundle Pearl handed out to him, she just but the them carefully on the pavement next to him. He looked at them like they had said something foul to him, which he wouldn’t know until he actually opened them. Then, Grian looked up again to Pearl and a frown appeared on his face.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, rather rudely.

“It’s just that we barely have the chance to properly have a chat,” Pearl simply explained. “I’m not actually sure if the mailing system will be operational this far out, so I might have to keep coming here myself. Isn’t that great?”

“You really don’t have to,” Grian argued weakly, as he grabbed a paper cup with a steaming liquid from his side and set it to his lips to take a little sip. He pulled a face as if he didn’t much like the beverage, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s my job and I do it with pleasure,” Pearl assured him with a smile. “Isn’t it just great how a job can be a calling?”

“Can’t say I share that sentiment,” Grian sighed. He had to squint against the light of the sun to look at Pearl. “Look, if there is anything you want from me you’re going to have to come back when we’re opened.”

“Oh, no, don’t you worry your little cotton socks,” Pearl answered, waving her hand. “That is the beauty of mail, you can tend to it whenever you have the time! You can do it first thing when you open again, some work to look forward to!”

Grian opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but ended up just shaking his head slowly. He must’ve had a rather bad night of sleep to be in such a mellow mood, Pearl assumed. She couldn’t imagine moping around at her job like this, it was way to wonderful to waste a day with a bad mood.

“So… do you have any mail to send?” she continued when Grian wasn’t pushing his conversation forward. “Any replies you need to send out from the letters I’ve brought you last week?”

“Haven’t gotten to them yet,” Grian answered dryly. “We were closed.”

“Oh,” Pearl was caught of guard by that but regrouped quickly. “Well, just know that you can count on the Hermit Post & Co to deliver anything you need. I can even deliver important documents if you want, with signed handover and everything. I’ll give it my extra secure, personal attention.”

“Great,” Grian answered with a sigh. “Don’t you have more mail to deliver? I was kind of in the middle of something.”

He took another sip from his drink, which seemed to be the ‘something’ he was in the middle of doing.

“Nope,” Pearl answered cheerful, shifting to sit next to Grian with her face turned towards the sun. “But I can enjoy this wonderful sunlight together with you. Isn’t that great?”

“… I don’t get paid enough for this.”   

[innies-goth-gf]

Things aren’t what they seem.

Things aren’t always what they seem - Prologue

Pairing : Ot8🗝️ x Reader Genre : Supernatural 🦇, Romance 💌, Angst 🌧️, Fluff 🪽, Smut 🥀, Crack 🪿 Summary : You get a strange letter in the mail one day from your long lost friend asking you to meet up. What happens when you meet him and his friends and they aren't exactly what they seem? Or. You find out ur friend and his friends are mythical creatures and you live in a world amongst creatures like them and so much more. W/C : 1.1k Warnings : This story will contain a lot of dark/mature themes such as the following; Graphic depictions of violence, Drugs and Alcohol, and much more. Smut warnings : This story will eventually have smut scenes, some which may not be suited for most people. | Minors DNI | Notes : So I’m fairly new to posting on here and tbh I haven’t seen many people post multiple chapter fics so idk if this’ll do well or anything but I decided to post this here anyways. I actually started this like beginning of June but had to stop writing by mid July because of medical issues and couldn’t pick up writing again till last week. I’ve only recently gotten back into writing since then so I hope that I’m still ok at it and that you guys will enjoy. I also uploaded this a while ago on Ao3/Wattpad if you’d prefer to read this one there. (Ao3 : Seungmins_goth_ff) (Wattpad : hansgothgirlfriend) [Master list] [Things aren’t what they seem - Series]

You had one goal, get home, and get in bed.

You’d woken up today with a plan in mind, relax and lounge around. Of course though, life has other plans. Your boss has called you at the crack of dawn, asking you to come in since they’d be short staffed. Obviously you agreed, you always had a hard time saying no.

So now you were walking back home after a long shift, wanting no more than to get into bed and stay there.

Without even realizing it, you were already walking inside your building. Inside you grabbed your mail, not even bothering to check it before making your way towards the elevators.

Once you neared them, you spotted a familiar figure. “Oh hi Alex!” You exclaimed, greeting the man who stood by the elevators. “Oh hey what's up?” He asked.

The elevator doors opened just then, letting you both inside. “Not much, just haven’t seen you around lately so I wanted to say hi,” You replied. “Ah, I’ve been busy with work you know? Thankfully I’m going on a vacation soon!” he replied enthusiastically.

“Ah sounds nice!” you reply. “Yeah, what about you? Isn't summer break for you soon? Got any plans for that?’

You pondered for a bit. You didn't have much planned, you didn't have any friends to hang out with. “I dunno, maybe just chill at home?”

“Ah well hope you can enjoy your summer break, see you around!” He said, stepping off the elevator. You thanked him and wished him the same, stepping off yourself and walking towards your unit.

‘Man, what AM I gonna do all summer?’ You thought, walking into your apartment. Well, that’d be something you’d figure out later. Right now, you are going to chill in bed and order some food. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, tiredness taking over you.

You set your things down on your coffee table and slumped on your couch, stretching a bit. You reach for your purse to grab your phone when something else catches your attention. A letter in between all your other mail.

‘Huh, what's this..?’ You grabbed the envelope and checked to see who it was from.

“From: Channie ;)”

“What the fuck no way…” You whispered to yourself as you tore the envelope open. Taking out the paper inside you began reading it.

“Dear Y/N,

It’s been a while hasn’t it? How have you been? I hope you've alright.

I know this letter probably comes to you as a big surprise. You probably have a lot of questions for me and I know I have a lot of explaining to do. For that reason I am writing to you. I would like to explain everything to you properly, in person.

I know this might be a lot to process but please think about it. Please think about it. And stay safe out there Y/N, I miss you.

Love, Channie ᡣ𐭩”

Behind the note there was a plane ticket and another little note simply saying “Don't worry about a hotel either. Just come from the airport to this Address.” with an address written down.

Speechless couldn’t even begin to explain how you felt right now, you didn’t know how to even begin to process what you had just read.

Before you’d even realized tears started spilling out of your eyes, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You began to sob, your living room filled with ugly crying and hiccups here and there.

You really couldn’t believe it, you couldn’t believe he was still alive out there. You felt a mix of emotions, you were happy to know he was alive and fine but part of you was angry. You were angry at him for leaving you by yourself, leaving you suddenly with no explanation.

You’d known Chan all your life, you grew up with him.

Meeting him was one of the best things that had ever happened to you, he was your closest and only friend growing up, he was always there for you and cared for you. You loved him to death.

But your friendship had only lasted till your second year of high school.

You remember it so clearly, almost as if it had happened yesterday.

You’d woken up that morning and done your usual routine, brushed your teeth, washed your face, did your hair, picked out an outfit, and did your makeup. Just like every other day.

Usually, on your way to school, you’d meet up with Chan for a quick stop at the convenience store, just for some snacks.

You were almost at the front of the store, yet you didn’t see a sign of him in sight. Still you waited and waited till for him, the seconds turning into minutes and the minutes into an hour. You couldn’t wait any longer than that, you’d be late.

That day during school he didn’t turn up, nor did he the next, nor the weeks that followed. It’d been ages now, not having heard a peep from him. You were super worried about him, it wasn’t like him to miss school this many days in a row, much less not tell you about it. None of your texts seemed to go through, you were growing more and more worried by the day.

You have tried everything. You called, texted, and asked everyone you knew if they had seen him or his family. You even turned up to his house a few times to try to find out what had happened but every time you went there was no answer, no signs of anyone inside, not even a car in the driveway.

Soon you had come to find out that one day he and his whole family had just disappeared with no explanation. No one knew how or when. They probably left sometime during the night so no one would notice.

Ever since that day you never stopped thinking about him, wondering what happened to him, if he was ok or not, why he left.

That was, until today.

You sat there and thought long and hard about it. You were starting to have doubts as to if this letter was even real or if any of this was legit. It's not like you were just going to blindly follow what this letter says without much questioning. But in the back of your head, something told you that this was real. You felt it, and you trusted your intuition.

Jumping up from your couch you started heading towards your room. You had made up your mind. And so, you started packing.

[honeybewrites]

Writeblr Intro!!

Figured I should do an introduction for my little crevice of the internet! 

I go by HoneyBe, or just Honey, or just Be, or really any other name you feel like! I mostly use she/her, they/them pronouns, but feel free to use whatever. I’m in my 20s and on the AroAce spectrum. I’ve been writing on and off since middle school and I’m hoping to get better at improving my skills, because 12 year old me didn’t care about that but 20 year old me does. I’m hoping to find (or build) a little community to support and help each other with all the writing things. Mostly though, this is just me gaslighting and guilt tripping myself into thinking that by not writing and posting, I will disappoint a nonexistent audience on the internet and not just myself, because apparently that’s the only way my brain will cooperate with me. 

Couple other little tidbits about me:

Big fan of the found family trope. Literally will make me squeal at a highly obnoxious volume.

LOVE extensive world building. I want to know every detail of a magic system and how a planet operates. I will listen to you rant about lore for hours, just please let me do the same every once in a while. I am begging, please, I want to tell you all the things.

I’m a little funky photographer trying to start her own little funky photography business, mostly to give myself more time to travel and write and also to get out of my full-time retail job (it’s pure hell and I hate it with an unholy, unmatchable heat of a thousand suns).

I love flowers. They’re just so pretty and as a little honeybee myself, it’s part of my job.

If you mention dragons, you will summon me. I have an obsession with the magical creatures and it knows no bounds.

My Main WIP, or I guess world, is what got me into writing in the first place, and I’ve been messing with it for years. You’d think that would mean I have it decently fleshed out, right? Nope. Unfortunately, The Plot keeps escaping my basement and causing a train wreck. If anyone has better restraint suggestions, let me know. My neighbors are starting to get concerned.

Anywho! The whole world is called The Seven Realms, or as my docs are titled, 7R. I know, so original. She wants to grow up and be a series with little series siblings, all connected in one Big Family. Seriously, I have OCs all over this world’s history and very vague vibes, aka, The Plot, to go along with them. Here are my two main ones.

Eclipse of War Chronicles (EoWC)

Colliding Stars (supposedly book 1)

The Realms are in chaos. A war started nearly a hundred years ago, still raging today, has wrecked both sides. The original intent of the war has long left everyone’s mind; it’s now a fight over territory and unification. The Realms border on complete and totally collapse from the strain of this ongoing blood bath and neither side refuses to admit defeat.

Project Viall, created during the hight of the war, was set on creating superior fighters. After many failed attempts, two successful subjects were created from the genetic experiments.Trained side by side to be flawless and merciless loyal weapons of death, they end up on opposite sides of this vicious war. Both intent on destroying the other, while their partner and closest friend hides behind the mask. Bonds are tested. Secrets revealed. Loyalties made and destroyed as two partners threaten to destroy the entirety of the Realms in their hunt for blood.

Legend of the Ancients (LotA)

The Fallen Dragons (supposedly book 1 of another series)

A brutal war has left the dragons all but extinct. To preserve the species, the remaining dragons have gone into hiding, leaving behind a subspecies borne through the war to fend for themselves: the Tanimoriem. Generations later, no one has seen or heard of a dragon, leaving the Tanimoriem as their only remains to once was. Knowing little of their history and being hunted simply for being kin to dragons, the Tanimoriem learned how to fight viciously and keep to themselves, earning a reputation as vile, unfeeling demons.

Accepting a bounty mission, Ryuk, a seasoned Tanimoriem, gets more than he bargained for. He had been told this was another monster that needed killing. A dangerous beast. Instead he’s met with a child who finds his horns and wings fascinating. Ryuk is forced to look after the child until he can figure out what secretive plot is brewing, because it might just involved the Tanimoriem.

Of course, my goblin brain has given me plenty more snippets and random characters in different times in this world that I have yet to do much with. The world of the Seven Realms has consumed me for years and I have been shown no mercy. I’m planning to do a proper intro post to each WIP and their characters at some point… *puts twenty reminders in phone to write intro posts*

Also!! I will take all asks, tags, and DMs you can throw at me. Literally. Ask me about anything. Books, WIPs, OCs, hell, even ask about my least favorite color or my favorite bread. I do not care. I will answer. I want to be friends will all of you!! I don’t sting! I promise!!

[arent-i-the-fairest]

Can I request Rollo going on a Valentine's Day "date" with MC and having fun like an old married couple all the while the boys, and maybe even the staff, are screaming in denial?

𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

author’s note : aaaa ok so, i wanted to make one of those big posts i do sometimes (where i include every nrc boy with hcs for each one) y’know, for a valentines special— but that didn’t work so we’re spending valentines with rollo instead (with a small mention of the nrc boys being jealous. probably punching walls and crying) (plus the staff being concerned dads)

—takes place in that one theory au thingy where rollo lives with you in ramshackle :) happy valentines day!

the week before valentines day has been.. suffocating.

gifts and requests to be your valentine have been coming in like crazy. the desk in your room has become a mess, crowded with flowers, letters, and all sorts of sweets that all pile on top of each other.

all of them, you’re flattered to have received, but unfortunately don’t really want. you already have your eyes on someone, and it’s not anyone that’s already asked you out.

“you have quite the amount of admirers, prefect.” rollo acknowledges the large mound of items, sifting through it with your permission. he grimaces at all the love letters you’ve gotten. “do you reciprocate any of their feelings?”

you shake your head, and he lets out a small sigh of relief, glad to know he hasn’t lost you to anyone.

as rollo turns his attention back to looking through the pile, you’re hyping yourself up, trying to channel the confidence of everyone who confessed to you combined. with just one day before valentines, you’ve gotta shoot your shot now.

there’s nothing to lose, right?

“i’ve been thinking,” you start. you almost consider chickening out when you meet eyes with rollo. he’s so unintentionally intimidating with his soulless (but pretty) eyes. “since neither of us have a valentine.. we should be each others. i-if you wanna be! totallyokayifyoudon’twantto—”

“i’d like that.” he interjects. he covers up his quickly reddening face, but you can still spot some blush on the tips of his ears. you hardly pay attention to it though since you’re too busy silently celebrating.

“it’s decided then.” you giggle. rollo nods, lowering his handkerchief to reveal a soft smile, looking uncharacteristically adorable.

you’d just have to try and keep this a secret from the other boys. they’d probably hate him even more if they found out about this, and you’d die if all the forced getting-along you made them do went to waste.

you actually thought you’d be able to keep your “date” hidden, but then you told grim about it— a terrible mistake.

the biggest rule in the book : never trust grim to keep his mouth closed.

the first people he blabbed to was ace and deuce, who spread the word to the rest of the first years, who spread it to their dorm leaders— and not before long, the rest knew. even the staff managed to get word of it too.

the boys were, as you’d expected, sulky. you chose rollo over him? did rollo go against what he constantly preaches and cast a spell on you?

they all go about their days valentine-less and ill tempered thinking about you and rollo being all lovey-dovey.

meanwhile, the staff are somewhat worried. rollo has no intentions of harming you, they’re aware. but the thought of (what might as well be) their child becoming romantically involved with someone who tried to strip the world of magic has them feeling troubled.

you and rollo are completely oblivious to any of this, though. at least until you get back from your date out at the town.

“so this is the town,” rollo says. “i’ve never had a chance to come down here until today.”

“hehe. what do you think? isn’t it nice down here?”

he nods, eyes scanning all the different buildings until they stop and linger on a bakery. a patisserie, to be exact. through the window, there are several sweets and baked goods on display, and he’s got his eye right on the croissants. you follow where he’s looking and giggle.

“wanna go to that patisserie?” you ask.

“if you don’t mind.”

after purchasing a croissant per rollo’s silent request, you two sit on a bench. he rips the good, giving you the bigger half and you thank him.

“this reminds me of that time at the trip!” you hum. “you were showing me around and we stopped by that bakery to buy a croissant, we even split it and ate it on a bench exactly like we are right now.”

“i remember. it’s perhaps the only moment of the symposium i look back fondly on.”

of course, that’s a lie. every moment at the symposium he shared with you is a moment he looks back fondly on. he’d feel far too embarrassed to say it out loud though.

“it’s such a simple, but sweet memory.”

“the way you’re reminiscing it almost makes it feel as though this was ages ago.”

“i know i know, this was just a little over a month ago. but it’s kind of crazy to me.” you smile. rollo tilts his head, nonverbally asking you to explain. “what i meant by that was.. it feels like we’ve known each other for much longer than a measly little month and a half. don’t you think?”

for what feels like the millionth time to rollo, he gets flustered. even more so when you put your hand on top of his.

but he ponders your question. it really does feel like you’ve known each other for far longer. it’s odd to him how quickly he warmed up to you— rollo’s never been one to get along easily with others. and with that, he’s never been one to open up easily either. but you were able to crack his shell.

“i agree.” he slowly smiles. “happy valentines day, prefect.”

[via-the-cryptid]

one of you, I don’t remember who but if it was you then here you go, mentioned Ellie befriending Ace. it took me a minute to realise that you probably meant the psychic little girl and not the pirate, but… now that I think about it, that’s actually a really good idea.

first off, I’m going to start by saying that I barely remember anything about Ace except hat she was super psychic, scared the Joker shitless once (good for her), and I think ended up dying as a result of her powers overloading her brain. I also remember Batman stayed with her until she died, but past that, nothing! so if my interpretation of her is off, well, that ain’t Via’s problem.

picture this: Ellie, approximately 14 in physical terms, only been alive for like a year or two. it’s post-Portal Incident II: The Reckoning, so her body is stabilized but her powers are going bat-crazy. she’s alone in an unfamiliar city with far too many restless spirits, being chased by actual supervillains, and she’s scared. maybe she ducks into an alley or hides in an abandoned building, and maybe one of those spirits was watching.

it’s been a long time since anything has caught Ace’s attention in the mortal realm. she likes to check in from time to time, see what’s happening as the world moves on without her, but it’s useless to linger over what she can’t affect. in the end, it only ever makes her miserable.

but sometimes, she can’t help but watch. sometimes, like today, she sees another little girl in trouble. she thinks, ‘she’s like me’, and she needs to know that this girl makes it through the night. even if she doesn’t, Ace still has enough power in death to show her a good dream before another ghost is added to Gotham’s countless number of lost souls. she follows the girl into the building, watches as she curls up in the corner, out of sight and barely there.

and then she looks straight at Ace.

“Did you want something?” Ellie asks, and she doesn’t break eye contact with the spirit floating in the doorway, even as her eyes go wide. “If you have unfinished business, I might be able to help, y’know, so long as you’re not trying to cause trouble.”

“You can see me.”

“Sure can. Kinda hard not to, your outfit’s pretty distinct.”

It’s the outfit she died in. Ace doesn’t really want to wear it anymore, not when she’s so far removed from that era of her life, but it isn’t like she knows how to.

“So,” Ellie says, “what’s your deal? Are you just here to watch it are you picking a fight? ‘Cause I’ll warn you, I don’t know how to play poker and everyone else so far has refused to reach me.”

Ace blinks. “I’m not here to fight with you.”

“Okay, cool. Are you… here to fight someone else?”

“No. I was watching you.”

“Well, that’s a bit unsettling.”

“You were alone, and you looked cold. I had to make sure you weren’t going to die in here.”

“Again?” Mutters Ellie, and Ace’s expression snaps from intrigued to guarded in less than a second.

“What does that mean?” She asks, glaring right at Ellie, and the other girl grimaces.

“Did not mean to say that one out loud. Okay, so hi, I’m Ellie, and basically I’m dead—”

“What? No, you’re not. I would be able to tell if you were dead.”

“Half-dead, then. I was a clone OFA guy who was half human and half ghost, ‘cept I was falling apart, so I decided to fix it by doing the same thing he did to become half-ghost, and I ended up standing inside a portal to the Ghost Zone while it was opening. Make sense so far?”

Ace’s jaw is dropping, but she can’t seem to find it in herself to care. “Half-dead.”

“Oh, we’re still stuck on that, then. Basically, if you— actually never mind, I don’t really know how it works. I can turn from ghost to human, if that helps.”

“How?” Ace whispers. “You said you were… falling apart. And a clone. And half-dead.”

“Well, now I’ve got two out of those three, since I fixed the first problem. Do you want to maybe sit down or something? This is gonna be a long story if you want the whole thing.”

Yes, she absolutely does. Ace float across the room and settles in next to Ellie, folding her knees up to copy the other girl’s pose. “My name is Ace.”

“Nice to meet you, Ace. I’m Ellie. Wait, I think I said that already.”

Somewhere on the other side of Crime Alley, unknowing of the two girls hidden away in a long-forgotten corner, Edward Nygma slams his head down on the desk as he once again fails to pinpoint the location of the mysterious white-haired girl.

[errorryx]

unraveling — part one, season eight

read on ao3 | hermitcraft, 2.2k words

This fic was written for the MCYTblr AUfest (@mcytblraufest)! My artist was @ghastspidergwen, who made this beautiful doll for the AU! please go give that post lots of love, it would mean the world to me <3

—

There are two new server members this season, and for most of the hermits, this is their first look at either of them. It’s probably a little intimidating for Pearl and Gem to be stared at from above by everyone else, but it’s difficult for most of them to remember to be courteous about it, because they're too busy staring at Pearl.

Players on Hermitcraft have always come in all different shapes and sizes, but none of them have ever been anything like Pearl. She’s a player like the rest of them, that much is obvious, but her body appears to be made out of wool, rather than any sort of organic material. Her eyes are buttons, and she has soft fuzzy antennae protruding from her hat that look like feathers.

Pearl stares back up at them, a slight grin on her face. She has yet to do much in the way of moving. Finally, when it comes time to introduce herself, she hops up to join the rest of them, moving around as easily as any other player.

Eventually, one by one, the hermits come to the conclusion that everything must be in order after all. They graduate from staring to sneaking occasional looks, and they do their collective best to treat her like any other player.

Because if there’s one thing Hermitcraft is known for, it’s things that defy logic with their very existence. And in that respect, Pearl fits right in.

—

Shortly after the Boatem Pole incident wraps up, it occurs to Mumbo that he’s gone and joined another club for the season—and that one of the other club members is a newcomer that he’d really like to know more about.

He figures Grian is his best bet for information about Pearl, seeing as he’s the one who invited her to the server in the first place. Mumbo finds him offloading his inventory into the start of what’s sure to be a formidable chest monster, and asks, “You know Pearl pretty well, right?”

“Of course!” Grian says. “We’ve been friends for years.”

“Has she always been…you know.” Mumbo carefully considers his choice of words. “Did she use to look any different?”

Grian shrugs. “Maybe.”

“You don’t know?”

“A lot of people have looked a lot of different ways over the years.” Grian closes the lid of the chest. “You can’t expect me to remember everything.”

He has a point, unfortunately. “What about since the last time you saw her?”

“You mean ten minutes ago? I doubt she’s changed much since then.”

Mumbo rolls his eyes. “Before today.”

“That was…a couple months ago, I think. Or a couple years. One of those.”

Sometimes, Grian is an extremely frustrating person to hold a conversation with. “I just want to know why she’s made out of yarn and stuffing!”

“Oh! Why didn’t you just say so?”

“Because—” Mumbo stops, realizing he might be equally at fault here. “I thought it would be rude.”

“Well, to answer your question,” Grian says, “I haven’t the slightest idea why she’s like that.”

“You never asked her?”

“I thought it would be rude.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Mumbo points out.

“Excuse you! I don’t go around asking why you’ve got that mustache.”

Mumbo strokes the mustache in question, feeling a little self-conscious. “I think it’s a nice mustache.”

“Me too,” Grian says. “I also think Pearl looks nice the way she is.”

“So do I,” Mumbo agrees quickly. “Really, I do.”

“Glad we agree!” Grian pats him on the back, and Mumbo leaves even more confused than before.

—

Grian’s still thinking about his conversation with Mumbo when he goes to ask Pearl for help with a build.

The build in question is actually a prank on Mumbo, but that’s not why it’s on his mind. In the few weeks since they spoke about Pearl, it’s occurred to him that there is something a little different about her—he just can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Have you gotten a haircut recently?” he asks her. “It looks nice.”

“Don’t be silly,” Pearl says. “You can just tell me you like my new wings!”

Right, of course. The wings. Grian feels a little embarrassed that he didn’t realize. “I do quite like them,” he says. He knows that Pearl’s wings have been there since the beginning of the season, it just hadn’t occurred to him that they were new. Like he said to Mumbo, he doesn’t keep track of these things.

“I appreciate it.” Pearl pokes him in the shoulder. “I like yours too, you know.”

“Yeah, well—” He rolls his eyes, his feathers instinctively fluffing up at the acknowledgement. “They aren’t exactly new.”

“I still like them!”

“Thanks.” Grian takes a closer look at her wings. They’re grey moth wings with a similar texture to the fabric that makes up the rest of her body, though they have more detail than any of her clothes. With such a small wingspan, they shouldn’t be aerodynamic enough to get Pearl off the ground, no matter how little she weighs. “You can’t fly with these, surely.”

“Not with that attitude I can’t.”

“I’ll be very impressed if you manage to prove me wrong.”

“Oh, yeah?” Pearl walks outside through the left-side door, and Grian follows through the trapdoors in the center. “Watch this!”

The way she rises is odd, to say the least. Grian is intimately familiar with the process of taking flight, and he’s pretty sure Pearl’s method violates the laws of physics. It’s not so much that she’s flying as it is that she’s being lifted, like an invisible hand is pulling her up by the feelers and holding her there, letting her dangle inelegantly in midair.

“Ta-da,” Pearl says, spreading her arms open.

Grian squints up at her. “When did ‘Suma give you access to creative mode?”

“I’m not cheating,” Pearl says, offended. She turns her back in midair, displaying her wings, which are slowly flapping back and forth. She begins to bob around in the air, sort of like a slow-motion hummingbird. It’s only marginally more convincing than her initial ascent.

“Fine,” Grian agrees, if only to get her to stop. “You can fly. I’m impressed.” 

Mostly, he’s disturbed. His wings itch just looking at her.

“Thank you,” Pearl says, and much to Grian’s relief, lands beside him. “So what’s this about a tree war?”

The vague plans that have been taking place in Grian’s head will require flight for them both, but he really, really doesn’t want to watch Pearl hover like that ever again. “First things first,” he says. “Let’s get you an elytra.”

—

Keralis is no stranger to the unusual. He knows he’s a little unusual; people tell him so all the time! And unusual things are constantly happening around him, only some of which are his fault. But Pearl is really something special.

The first time she comes to visit, Keralis ropes her into a scheme he’s just come up with, which is to get a clock from Bdubs so he can do some interior decorating. This is only part of his motivation—he takes to the extraordinary like a moth to a flame, and there are many extraordinary things about Pearl. He wants to discover them all.

Like her player head, for instance. Normal player heads, dropped in the event of a player's death, have a very simple effect: when equipped, they give someone the physical appearance of that player from the neck up. Usually they don't feel like anything, but Pearl’s head behaves a little differently. The first time Keralis tries it on is a very disorienting experience.

He and Pearl continue to meet up over the course of the season, hatching various schemes to try and swindle Bdubs out of even more clocks. Tango joins them for their third meeting, and Keralis wears his Pearl head again. It still feels very funny, and he decides that sharing is caring. “Here, put on a Pearl head!” Keralis says, throwing Tango his spare.

Tango puts it on, and now two Pearls are looking back at him. “Is it supposed to feel like my head is full of cotton?”

“Yes, that is perfectly normal,” Keralis assures him. “You get used to it!”

“He’s right,” Pearl agrees. “I’m very used to it.”

Keralis squints at her in suspicion, but he currently has buttons for eyes, so he’s not sure if anything actually  happens. “Was there a time when your head was not full of cotton?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Pearl says, “what with the cotton in my head and all. Makes it hard to remember these things.”

Keralis respects and admires that Pearl wants to maintain an air of mystery, so he laughs along. But he does not quite believe her.

—

On the day they decide to tear down an entire castle and rebuild it on Bdubs’ mountain, Keralis and Pearl wind up killing each other for fun midway through the project. Mumbo arrives with his end crystals to further complicate things, and after several rounds of recreational murder, Keralis puts on Pearl’s head again.

He knows what to expect by now, so the strangeness of it doesn't catch him off-guard. The interesting part comes when Pearl retaliates by putting on one of his heads. Keralis isn’t sure what he expected, but it’s not a knitted version of his own face staring back at him, complete with oversized black-and-white buttons for eyes.

“You've got a lovely head on your shoulders, Pearl,” he says. “Not terrifying at all.”

Mumbo turns to look at her too, and jumps about a foot in the air. “Good heavens!”

“What?” Pearl says, the picture of innocence. “Have I got something on my face?”

She blinks—and, come to think of it, Keralis can’t remember whether or not he’s ever seen Pearl blink before. Maybe he has, and he never noticed, but it’s hard not to notice when her eyes are so much larger. Mumbo seems to notice the same thing, because he asks, flabbergasted, “How on earth did you just blink with button eyes?”

Pearl does it again, twice in a row. Keralis is no closer to understanding how she does it, but he’s all the more invested in watching her to find out. “How do you blink with your goopy eyes?” Pearl asks.

“Oh, very easy. We use our eye muscles!” Keralis tries to demonstrate, but finds himself unable to do so. “Sorry, one second.” He pops off the Pearl head that he’s wearing and bats his eyelashes. “See?”

“Muscles, right. I’ve heard of those.” Pearl stretches her arms up to her head. “You used to have some, right, Mumbo? Do you still have ‘em?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re a potato? Last I checked, potatoes don’t have muscles.”

“Yes, but surely…” Mumbo looks down at his arm, poking the skin—the peel?—around his wrist. “Oh, dear. Do I have muscles? How am I meant to tell?”

“I know!” Keralis draws his axe. “We can slice off a little piece of you and look inside!”

Mumbo goes faintly green, resembling a poisonous potato. “I would really rather you didn’t.”

“No, I like this idea,” Pearl agrees. “Aren’t you curious, Mumbo? I know I am.”

“And we could also find out what your head looks like on Pearl’s head,” Keralis suggests.

Mumbo sighs. “Fine,” he says. “But only because I strongly suspect you’re going to do it anyway.”

“I promise I will be careful,” Keralis says, crossing his arms behind his back. “Just a teeny tiny slice.” 

“I don’t want to watch.” Mumbo holds out his arm and looks in the opposite direction.

Keralis cuts into Mumbo’s arm. Unfortunately, he misjudges the amount of strength needed to cut through a potato with a large axe, and ends up slicing off Mumbo’s entire hand. “Oopsy-daisy.”

“Ow,” Mumbo says, as Pearl picks up the hand from the ground. He sounds more annoyed than agonized.  “Really?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay! Five minute rule, remember? You will be good as new after a nice respawn.”

“He’s potato all the way through,” Pearl reports, showing the hand to Keralis. “You don’t even have bones, Mumbo, see?”

“Can I get that respawn now?” Mumbo asks, still refusing to turn his head.

“Of course!” Keralis slices him through with the axe, then does it again. The hand that Pearl’s holding disappears, as does the rest of Mumbo, who pops up at the nearby respawn bed while Pearl picks up his player head from the ground and plops it on.

Similarly to Keralis’s head, Mumbo’s head on Pearl’s body is made out of interwoven material with button eyes. This time, however, the yarn has been replaced by what appears to be little strips of potato peels.

“Well, that’s distressing,” Mumbo says, summing up what they’re all thinking.

“I can’t see what this looks like,” Pearl says, “but it smells like raw potatoes in here.”

Her specification of raw gives Keralis an idea. “I wonder if we could put Potato Boy through a furnace?”

“I think I’ve had enough scientific experimentation for the day,” Mumbo says, gathering up his things from the chest. “I need to put an end to this whole potato business as soon as possible.”

After he leaves, Pearl walks over to the crafting table. “We could put his head through the furnace.” She crafts a furnace and sets it down, taking off the Mumbo head. “Aw, it won’t go in.”

“Too weird for normal Minecraft,” Keralis says, shaking his head.

Pearl laughs. “Story of my life.”

—

Next part >

if you read this all the way through and enjoyed, please consider reblogging!

[betterthanburrow]

Miss CEO - Instagram AU

(Bengals Quarterback! Joe Burrow x Beauty Influencer OC)

liked by yourinstagram, and 270,155 more users

MISHTIMAKEUP: introducing “Mishti Makeup” a new make-up brand created by @.yourinstagram.

after many years of hard work through cosmetology school, collaborating with other make-up brands, and building up the social media platforms, the day that our Chief Executive Officer has dreaming about since she was a little girl is finally here 🤎✨

it’s important to click the website in our bio to subscribe to our newsletter to stay updated on our upcoming make-up collection launches and sales!

view all 95,420 comments

yourinstagram: i’m very excited for this new journey!

↳ MISHTIMAKEUP: we love you! - social media intern.

nikkietutorials: i can’t wait to try out all of the new make-up products!

mamaburrow: i’m so excited to support you!

varijstylez: this was one of the hardest secrets that i have had to keep in my life… i’m so happy that the news of your company is finally out in the world!

joeyb_9: i’m so proud of you princess 💗

↳ yourinstagram: thank you 😽 i’m proud of me too!

liked by joeyb_9, and 300,851 more users

yourinstagram: Miss CEO Of Mishti Makeup.

view all 119,663 comments

yourlittlesister: so… since the CEO of Mishti Makeup is a my big sister, does this mean i get free products?!

↳ yourinstagram: hmm… i don’t know if you deserve those privileges 🤔

↳ yourlittlesister: i’m your little sister that was your makeup model for many years… that means i have automatically earned those privileges of free products.

joeyb_9: it’s more like… Miss CEO Of My Heart.

↳ yourinstagram: stop flirting with me on instagram…

like by 66,925 more users

DailyJLBurrow: Instagram Stories from (12/5/22)

view all 9,616 comments

username1: Joe posting about his girlfriend and Spongebob Squarepants on his IG stories… now all he needs to do is post something related to football and then Joe would’ve posted his holy trinity in one day!

username2: the Bengals beat the Kanas Chiefs yesterday but Joe is making it a priority to post about his girlfriend’s business over the football game win.

↳ username3: Chiefs fans really wanted to get a reaction out of Joe but it’s clear that he’s so unbothered even with the game win!

liked by joeyb_9, and 333,799 more users

yourinstagram: just the two of us @.joeyb_9 🤎

view all 150,001 comments

mamaburrow: the two of you are so cute!

joeyb_9: roses are red, violets are blue… you’ll be the 6 and i’ll be the 9.

↳ yourinstagram: JOSEPH LEE BURROW… THIS IS A PUBLIC COMMENT SECTION!

liked by 99,725 users

BeautyGuru_Updates: Y/N’s instagram story of her and NFL Bengals Quarterback Joe Burrow.

view all 15,019 comments

username1: we really are getting spoiled with Y/N and Joe content today… this is a rare occasion!

↳ username2: and when we do get spoiled of content, it’s just their shadows or blurry photos… it’s never clear pictures, we get spoiled while living off crumbs.

username3: i still can’t believe my favorite beauty guru and my dad’s favorite NFL Quarterback are DATING?!

liked by yourinstagram and 509,917 more users

joeyb_9: Unbothered.

view all 4,183 comments

Bengals: 🔥🔥🔥

yourlittlesister: i have the coolest future brother in law!

yourinstagram: are you a parking ticket… because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you 😽

↳ joeyb_9: so you don’t like when i flirt with you in your instagram comments… but here you are, flirting with me in my instagram comments?!

Author’s Note:

if you have a request for an IG AU, please send the Instagram AU request in my inbox and i’ll try to get the IG AU requested published as soon as possible.

thank you all for the love and support! 🤍

[novapark]

I'm busy but will be back at the beginning of the year.

Current Writing Projects -

Royal Suvia - Shooting Chapter 3, it's almost done. With or Without You - Shooting (it's a one shot story, will be posted here)

Current Gameplay Saves - Sims 4:

Izan's BC - Screenshots ready to post, just need to post them. Sorry this is taking me so long. >.< Sims is not my only creative outlet.

Sims 3:

Rio Goes to Uni - Moving her save over to my new computer today. It was really laggy last I played so keep your fingers crossed for me it works better on the new hardware. I probably just overdid it on populating the university since I want her to make friends.

Sims 2:

I need to revisit Allison's save but I got inspired to actually try and play the premades and I've really been enjoying that so I may share how that's going. We'll see. Isn't Lucy Burb just a doll?

Other than all this nonsense I have a long list of cc and build projects I've been slowly tackling including a couple of tract housing sets for sims 2, completing the lots for my Ciudad Enamorada overhaul, an update to my various hider mods, and a lot of poses. Also after I uninstall everything tied to the EA app on my desktop I am going to see if I can CAW working again so I can get back to building sims 3 worlds. I really miss that.

Anyway that's the plan for the next year. We'll see how it goes. Got a lot of life stuff and other projects going on too so as usual expect things to come out slower than your average simmer. Such is life when you're 40.

[c-c-cherry]

Teru fic??

EDIT?** I've actually posted the full fic that this snippet is from. You'll probably have a more fulfilling time just reading it lol --> Click!

This is a response to the little wip "challenge" I posted a little while ago. Askbox is still open for those! (there's a few I still need to answer too) :)

Sorry this took so long! I wanna say…good choice? Probably because I’m almost done writing this one and then I can move onto editing. Assuming the Area Hysteria people reading this have also read Tenacious Terrain (building on one of the memory flashes involving Ritsu but also works as a standalone fic), this one follows a similar format.

I’ve been treating it as my warm-up to get back into Mob after awhile while simultaneously trying to write for the main AH storyline. But I also think publishing this story first might help with what I want to do later between Reigen and Teru if that makes sense? I think it fills a lot of unspoken gaps that I've really wanted to explore in the hysteriaverse so I've been having a lot of fun getting into it.

I’ll shut up now — here’s a snippy!

***

The pair walked down the street just as the sun started dipping below the trees. Reigen didn’t ask if Teru's parents were waiting for him at home, and he was grateful for it.

Teru usually found himself talking endlessly when going out with Kageyama or even Ritsu, just to fill up the fact that both usually didn’t say much at all. There was no need to do that with someone like Reigen. His energy could silence a room. Teru had seen it with Claw, the way everyone turned and gave him total control back when they first got captured. 

Reigen was evidently powerful in both the psychic world and the business world, but his words alone still poked through the sharpest of swords, more than Teru’s power ever could.

“Mob and I come here if we end up working past dinner,” Reigen held the door open for him, and Teru watched as the man greeted the host as if he knew her. He took off his jacket and gestured for Teru to follow. “This booth has the best view. It’s great while it's raining, but sunny weather will do just fine.”

The man rolled up his white sleeves and sighed in content. Teru attempted to relax his shoulders and calm his heart, pretending he wasn’t having dinner with Reigen Arataka, 21st century’s greatest psychic and Teru’s new temporary boss. Thoughts about what to do with that daunting guardianship form still plagued the back of his mind but he forced himself to push it back further and look up at the approaching waiter.

“No bowl-cut today?” she asked curiously, passing out the menus, “I haven’t seen the two of you come around here in a bit.” 

“Who, Mob?” Reigen chuckled, “The kid’s got a marathon at school to run. I’ve got a few of his friends helping me out.”

Teru melted into the foam booth, letting it press up against his back as the two conversed. It had been awhile since he’d felt this cozy. He wondered if it was the ambience of this place, or Reigen’s mere presence putting him at ease.

“Before I forget,” Reigen rummaged through his briefcase once they had both ordered and pulled out his phone. “I’ll give you my number so we can keep in touch. I might need you earlier or later depending on exorcism appointments. It’ll be nice to have you filed away for when I need you this week.”

Reigen wanted his phone number? Teru stared down at his food piping hot in front of him. He wondered if Reigen would pay for this, too. Based on what Kageyama had said about him, the man would no doubt slip a few bills on the table regardless of whether Teru pulled out his card to cover his half of the bill. Reigen would probably walk him home too while he was at it. 

“Sure, I-” he stuttered, trying to find his voice. This wasn’t like him. Reigen must have known that too, despite barely knowing him at all. The man leaned over and placed his hands up defensively, his rolled sleeves slipping back down and grey jacket discarded beside him.

“Unless you think that’s overstepping. I just like to have everyone’s names on hand. If you aren’t comfortable with it, don’t worry about it. I don’t have to have you on-call all the time like I do with Mob…though it would be pretty helpful for emergency exorcisms…” 

Teru didn’t wait around to hear what else the man was saying. Reigen was so confident, so powerful, so cool, and all Teru wanted to do was impress him. 

Be reliable. He could be reliable. 

Teru pulled out his phone, flipped through his contacts and tried to find the phone number that he still hadn’t memorized after getting a new number a few months back. His father had paid for it, of course. He hadn’t seen his father’s face in years, but the man still paid for everything so long as Teru could forge his signature.

His head went back to those stupid forms in his bag. To think the school had waited this long before asking him to prove his parents’ existence outside of a signature.

“Here,” he pushed his phone over to him, pulling a grin over his face. “I’d be happy to help you out in Kageyama’s stead as much as you need.” He’d even be willing to skip school, maybe never show up at school again if it meant no one would interrogate him about his familial situation. But perhaps that was a different kind of commitment. 

Reigen smiled back, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. “That was quick. Thanks a bunch, Hanaza—"

“—Teruki,” he corrected, before realizing that he’d interrupted Reigen Arataka, 21st Century’s Greatest Psychic and the only adult who had ever asked him for his number to make sure he was around and alright. “Teruki’s fine. Or Teru.”

Reigen snorted, taking his chopsticks and dipping them into his bowl. “Teruki for now. But don’t think you can just go around calling me Arataka…at least, not in front of Ritsu. Sometimes it feels like that kid is just trying to find his footing before pouncing on someone like me.” Reigen’s eyes locked onto him, suddenly serious. “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for a dead man…would you, kid?” 

“Oh,” Teru’s face surely looked stupid, the way it glowed. “No, I would never—”

“Kids these days are so dense! I’m just messing around,” the man snickered back, followed by the slurping of noodles. “Mmmh..this place never fails to amaze my taste buds after such a long day.” He banged on the table softly with his fist. “Well, eat up! Here’s to a very productive first day.”

A thought grazed Teru’s head as he tipped the bowl up to his lips. 

It was a very selfish, self-serving thought. One that accompanied a methodical plan that slowly began to form in the back of his mind. Reigen was a responsible, giving person. He was mystical, busy, a very busy man. He lived here in Seasoning City. If Teru could guess, he was almost at the age of 30—a very responsible age for a very responsible, reliable, busy man. He was a model citizen, really. He even went above and beyond to inspire others around him.

As of this moment, Teru worked alongside Reigen. He had access to his files, which probably contained most of his information if he looked around hard enough for it. Maybe this would finally get the school off his back. 

And who says the man even has to know?

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 17: The Gingerbread Castle

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 1996

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

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Notes:  This story was written for my “Christmas with Captain Swan” collection in 2020.

CS Genre: Neighbors AU

Killian Jones had been in love with Emma Swan since the moment she moved into the apartment across the hall three years ago.  The day she’d moved in would stand out in his memory forever, like a pivotal moment in his life where everything suddenly stood still and came into focus.

It had been a snowy, bitterly cold day in early December.  He’d been enjoying his morning cup of coffee while he read the newspaper when he heard a commotion out in the hallway.  A commotion, and a string of language that would make a sailor blush.

Curious, Killian stepped outside to see a gorgeous blonde woman in a red leather, fleece-lined jacket struggling to drag a sofa down the hallway.

“You look as though you could use a hand, love,” he’d said, quickly moving to the opposite end of the couch and lifting it.

“What I could use,” she said through gritted teeth, “is for the idiot mover I hired to actually do his freaking job and bring my stuff into my apartment instead of dumping it at the building entrance and slinking away.  Serves me right for picking a moving company called ‘Grumpy and Brothers’, I guess.”

Killian laughed as they maneuvered her couch through her doorway and then set it against the far wall under a set of windows.  “Is that the company with the tagline ‘We whistle while we work’?”

Emma groaned, swiping a bead of sweat from her forehead.  “Yep.  That’s them.  Anyway, next time you’re moving, pick a different moving company.  Any different moving company.  I guess I’m lucky I live on the ground floor, right?  Can you imagine what a bitch it would have been dragging that thing up a flight of stairs?”

Killian groaned at the thought.  “Anything else I can help you with?”

“I don’t want to put you out,” she said, hesitating.  “It’s Saturday, after all.  I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Hadn’t a thing in the world to do today, save for finishing the decorating of my Christmas tree,” he assured. “I’d be happy to help my newest neighbor move in.  My name is Killian Jones, by the way.  I live in 109 across the hall.”

Emma shook the hand he extended to her, and just the touch of her hand against his sent a jolt of electricity through his system.  Killian didn’t believe in love at first sight, but this meeting certainly had the feel of destiny.  “Emma Swan,” she answered, “in 108, obviously.”

“Well, Swan,” he’d said, “I’m at your service.”

They’d spent the better part of the day together moving her in to her apartment, and Killian was surprised at how easy it had been to talk to her.  It was as though they’d known each other all their lives.  When the day came to an end, Emma had tried to pay him for his help, but he’d steadfastly refused any remuneration.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he’d insisted, quite sincerely. “I’ve enjoyed the company.”

They’d parted not long after that, and Killian went home buoyed by the hopes and dreams of years to come living less than ten feet from the woman who could very well be the woman of his dreams.

The next morning, Emma had knocked on his door around 10:00 am with a tin of Christmas cookies and the intention to return the favor.

“Since you spent your whole day helping me yesterday,” Emma said, “today I’m here to help you.  It was your tree you were going to decorate yesterday, wasn’t it?”

It had been a pleasant, beautiful day spent decorating, watching Christmas movies and consuming an unconscionable amount of Christmas cookies.

They’d been fast friends ever since, rarely going a day without seeing each other.  They’d been there for the good times…and the bad times.

Killian had known from the moment she introduced him that Neal Cassidy was not nearly good enough for her.  Killian had supported her, trying to feign happiness for her when she told him she and Neal had started dating.  When Neal cheated on her with a woman named Tamara six months later, Killian had been there for Emma, doing all in his power to help her heal her broken heart.

He’d longed to confess his feelings, longed to tell her he’d never treat her so badly, that he’d love and treasure her forever, but she wasn’t ready.  She didn’t need a rebound.  She needed a best friend, and so that’s what he was to her.

Aye, Killian had loved Emma since the day he met her, which was why when she showed up at his door at seven a.m. on the Saturday before Christmas looking agitated and asking for a favor, he’d agreed without hesitation, no questions asked.

“What’s troubling you, love?” He asked.

“I’ve got to make a gingerbread house,” she said. “It’s got to be from scratch, and it’s got to be the best gingerbread house to ever gingerbread.”

“That’s quite the tall order,” he said. “What precisely has brought on this culinary endeavor?”

She’d glanced aside then, and the pain on her face was unmistakable.  Frowning, he turned her to him with a gentle hand to the side of her face.  “Swan, what is it?  You can tell me anything.  You know that right?”

She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked up at him.  “Storybrooke has this gingerbread house competition every year,” she said.

Killian nodded, remembering the day she’d told him about her hometown of Storybrooke and some of its quirkier traditions.  “Aye, I recall you mentioning.  I was under the impression you thought the contest was rather silly.”

“Well, yeah, it is,” she said, beginning to pace, “but…but this year Neal entered.  Neal and his brand new fiancee, Tamara.”

Killian took a deep breath and slowly blew it out, feeling sympathy for her. “And you wish to challenge him.”

“Yeah,” she said in a small voice.  “It’s just…I’ve wasted way too many tears on that son of a bitch.  I just want to show him that I’m not, you know, pining after him or anything.  He did me a favor showing me who he really is before things got too serious.”

“I quite agree,” Killian said with a decisive nod, “although I do wish you’d allowed me to put my fist through that bastard’s face after he cheated on you.”

She’d smiled at that.  “Trust me, I was tempted,” she said, “but if I’d decided to take the high road and not punch him, I certainly wasn’t going to let my best friend risk an assault charge just to, I don’t know, defend my honor.”

“Still,” Killian said, “the offer stands.  Give me the word, and I will gladly beat the fool to a bloody pulp.”

She’d stood on tiptoes then and kissed his cheek.  He’d closed his eyes, savoring the gesture, wishing he could turn his head and turn the friendly gesture into a true kiss.  Instead, he patted her shoulder.  “At any rate, I am at your disposal, love.  How can I help you win this contest.”

“Well, my first problem,” she said dryly, “is that I don’t have the first idea how to make gingerbread.  My second problem is that I don’t have the slightest idea how to construct a house, so obviously I came to the best architect I know.”

Killian grinned.  “I’m fairly certain I’m the only architect you know, love.”

“Still,” she said, “I’m pretty sure you’re the best out there.”

He felt his chest swell with pride at her compliment.  It was always like this with her.  She had always believed in him, and when she gave him her support, it made him feel invincible.  “Swan, I promise you this.  I will help you win this contest or I will perish in the attempt.”

She’d given him a stern look then.  “Oh no you don’t.  You aren’t allowed to ‘perish’, like ever.  I really don’t know what I’d do without you, Killian.”

His smile turned tender, and he’d cupped her face, caressing her face with his thumb before he could rethink the gesture.  “You’ll never have need to find out.  Now, I propose we go all out.  Why stop with a gingerbread house when we can build an entire gingerbread castle?”

It had taken them three days, but when Emma put the final gumdrop “rock” on the lowered drawbridge and they surveyed their completed work for the first time, Killian had to admit they’d done a damn good job.  The castle was two feet tall with magnificent crenelated turrets on all four corners of the keep.  It was surrounded by a curtain wall, and contained an inner bailey with two knights practicing their swordsmanship.  (Killian had wanted to rig up a motor of some kind to make the two figures, made out of modelling chocolate, actually move, but Emma had insisted it was overkill).

It was magnificent if he did say so himself.

“Killian,” Emma said, stepping back, “I wanted to thank you for this, all of this.  Not just helping me design and make the castle, but, you know, being there for me through everything.”

The lights of his Christmas tree flickered over her face, as he looked over at her, feeling like his heart would burst.  “Neal Cassidy is a bloody fool, Emma,” he murmured, stepping up to her, and cupping her face in both hands.  “Any man who would fail to see what an extraordinary woman you are doesn’t deserve you.”

She was silent for a long moment, looking intently at him, as though looking for a lie.  After a moment, a single tear fell from her eye and he wiped it away with his thumb.  “I think maybe I was the fool, Killian, to ever fall for him in the first place when…”

“When what?” he prompted.

“When I had the real deal, Mr. Right himself living right across the hall,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Killian felt his heart turn over at her admission.  Was…was it possible that he’d been mistaken?  Was it possible his feelings weren’t unrequited after all?

As though to answer his unasked question, Emma took the final step toward him, brought his head down to hers and kissed him as though her life depended on it.

The kiss went on and on.  One kiss melting into two and three, and then they were engaged in a full blown make-out session on his couch.

“Will you come home with me this year?” she asked in a breathless voice when they finally came up for air.

“Of course,” he said, running a hand through her hair.  “I have to witness our moment of triumph when our gingerbread castle wins the grand prize, after all.”

She grinned up at him.  “That the only reason you said yes?”

He turned serious.  “Swan, you know it’s not.”

“Good,” she said, “because I was kind of hoping I could introduce you to my parents as my boyfriend.”

He leaned over and kissed her again, couldn’t help it.  That first kiss seemed to have opened the floodgates, and he suspected he’d never be able to get enough of this woman.  When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “Nothing in this world would please me more than to go home with you as your boyfriend.”

They did, of course, win the grand prize in the gingerbread house contest.  Killian suspected he would have found great joy in the disappointment and frustration and outright jealousy on Neal Cassidy’s face, but as it happened, he didn’t even see it.

He had eyes only for the woman who he hoped would be his present, his future and his everything.

Perhaps he ought to send Grumpy and Brothers a thank you.  Turns out, their incompetence was the best thing that ever happened to him.

NEXT CHAPTER->