#oops. turns out i wrote more than i thought i did. sorry folks!!

[dokkywokky]

Welp! While college is busy murdering my art drive, I guess I should post some backlog stuff.

This here’s a character I’ve been working on for a bit, for a Renaissance fantasy setting that I and some friends have been putting together. Her name’s Kimrin Lin!!

Some neat little tidbits:

- That left arm is a prosthetic! While it uses the setting’s magic to function, converting heat from its inner furnace into mechanical motion and magical impulses, it’s not perfect. Accurate, but not precise, and really only useful in swordfighting as a support more than anything. It’s not a battle injury—She was just born without an arm.

- She’s a Half-Drake, Half-Human (“Tallman”)! Specifically, her Drake father was descended from a group who originally adapted to life in volcanoes. Her scales are black because they were inspired by volcano snails—they’re actually living iron and mineral plating!

- The enormous sword (and her cloak) are from of one of her past jobs. As a Hunter of the Ruby Contingent of Kadara, Kimrin was tasked with duties somewhere between a park ranger, an ecologist, and a big game hunter in the modern day—managing local plant life, maintaining a good balance in the local ecosystem without letting it affect villages under her previous Mission’s watch, and handling the occasional “monster” (rather, megafauna) that got too close to a human settlement.

- The “Black Knight” moniker is from her current occupation! Having studied an additional few years under a Magician’s ministry in Kadara, she’s picked up some academic means of fulfilling her interests. Nowadays, Lin wanders from village to city, documenting the local cultures, ecosystems, foods, etc, in a kind of travelogue. The same sense of justice that drove her to leave the Ruby Contingent, however, also drives her to interfere in some local affairs—stopping executions, helping discriminated people find new homes, etcetera. This kind of nuisance-making has earnt her something of a reputation, and now, exaggerated news of her ‘wicked, disruptive’ deeds is traveling faster than she is.

- She has, in fact, been burnt at the stake before for practicing magic. For the most part, it’s not really that interesting, although the ash does get irritating pretty early into the process.

[nimbus-cloud-90]

Oooh I wrote another long one. Buckle up folks it's a helluva of a ride (literally).

TW (to be safe): Drowning, a little bit of blood.

Chapter Eleven:

Inferno Part Two Electric Boogaloo.

When we got off the boat I looked around and saw that the cave goes down deeper inside.

“This is your stop ain’t it?” The boat driver asked happily, smiling creepily as his skull showed up, the skin of his face seemed to melt, or at least trade places with his bones.

“Yes, thank you,” The four of us started to walk off, when he blocked our path with his boney arm, “Woah, woah woah, not so fast tiny living creatures!” it happened so fast my gut ran into it. It felt like what I imagine an airbag to your stomach feels.

“Not all of you can go at the same time!”

“Why not?” Like he knew I was going to ask that he opened the floor hatch and took out an emergency raft. “Well, first of all the raft isn’t built—” Before I let him say anymore words I took it, found the plug and started blowing into it.

——————————

Two Hours Later

——————————

After the raft was built, I stopped before my lungs started to give out.

I think I died a couple times during that but that didn’t keep me from blowing it up.

Nile found a fan and started fanning my face, and he’s so sweet and loveable I wanna pinch his cheeks.

….Man, I must’ve lost more air than I thought.

“—Okay then, what I was going to say before you started, all of that, was that the emergency raft can only hold two people at a time.”

“So what do we do then?” Bella asked in my place.

“You take turns, silly organ havers!” I was about to protest, literally everything he just said when he turned around suddenly and picked up a box, “Oops, almost forgot to give you these!” He opened it and there were cloaks and glasses inside, “Here put these on, I’ll explain in just a second!” We did as we were told, although I had to help hold the pants of Nile and help guide him in because he was shaking a really bad, poor guy. Although I did feel a shock again, and I excepted and turned down his apology for something he couldn’t control.

“Shit, shit fuck!” I heard suddenly behind Nile.

“Wait is that-?” Nile asked.

“Yep, it’s Xander.” Bella said and strained to smile.

“Oh, dear.” The skeleton said.

“What now?”

“Young skin wearer, would you mind taking that off for a second?”

“Sure I guess.” Nile did and suddenly the person known as Xander ran behind Agni and said, “Hi Nile, nice to see you again, how’s living?”

“It’s alright, can I put these back on now?”

“Yes, you can, because the parasite is gone now!” The skeleton said. Nile just shrugged at me as I got more disturbed by this whole thing.

“Okay so before I was rudely interrupted by my protege, the cloaks you’re wearing prevent the ghosts from hitchhiking inside of you for a way out, and the glasses let those see the ghosts that can’t.”

“Uh, boss?”

“Yes Parasite?”

“The blonde one can see ghosts.”

“Oh really?” And despite not having eyes the skeleton managed to peak its interest by raising its hairless brow.

“Yeah, but I’m in training still, sometimes I can see them, sometimes I can’t.” Nile said and sheepishly scraped his shoe on the floor.

“Don’t believe a word he says he’s basically a god.” I interjected. Nile’s face got red and he covered his face in his hands.

I stared at the sight longer than I’m willing to admit.

Then the skeleton’s voice broke me out of that trance, “Well, you can keep these as a second option if you really need them.” The skeleton said as I started walking toward the boat, “Wait before you get on the boat you have to sign the waiver.” the skeleton said and handed it to me.

“It just says, ‘if I died during this ride, it isn’t the God of Death’s fault.’” I read from the paper and looked at the skeleton.

“Sorry, it’s company policy, and I know it doesn’t do much good these days, but what can I say, I want to be Skeleton of the Month!” And I signed the waiver to help the guy out.

Look, just because he’s creepy and unnerving, doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve Skeleton of the Month, he’s a really nice guy.

“Okay Susan Storm and Reed Richards, get on the boat.” Bella said and practically shoved us into the raft.

“What about–”

“Nile, I’m fifteen, I’ll be fine.” Bella said and patted his head.

The way she recoiled and said, “Fuck Nile why?!” made my unexplained jealousy about the headpat better. “WAIT A SECOND!!!” Nile said and handed Zoidburg to Xander and quickly went back to the boat.

After Nile said sorry about fifteen times, about the shock and to Zoidburg for leaving him in the hands of Xander, whatever that means, I felt something grab the back of our raft, “You’re about to take a trip on The Ride To Death!” The skeleton said in an announcer voice, “Please keep your arms, legs, hands, feet, and all other fleshy bits inside the ride at all times. Please refrain from standing up during the ride, and remember to have fun!” The skeleton said as they pushed us down the slope I JUST NOW NOTiCED HOLY SHIT I WANT OFF NOW!!!!

I guess it’s too late and I have to accept my fate as I scream all the way down.

“AND NO FLASH PHOTOGRAPHY, THE GHOSTS HATE THAT!!!” I heard the skeleton call from behind me, the voice sort of echoing and getting farther away as we started going down faster. I noticed we were going, like, fifty miles an hour downhill, and I held onto Nile during the entire duration of that.

Once that stopped I eased up on Nile a bit and was about to apologize when we started going down ANOTHER hill, and clinged onto him once more. I saw several ghosts and the thought of them stealing my body and using me as a meat suit unnerved me so much I hid my face in Nile’s neck to avoid looking at them. Then the raft came to a sudden stop. Then FUCKING LEVITATED SIDEWAYS!!!!

“How much do you want to bet the God of Madness who created this?”

“I WOULD GIVE MY ENTIRE LIVESAVINGS FROM MY HOUSE!!!”

“Don’t do that, you need that for college!” Nile scolded and gave me a worried look.

“I CAN’T GO IF I’M DE—” The sheer force of us going backwards cut me off abruptly.

And that’s when I knew we were drowning.

——————————

When Nile’s lungs finally got some air, did he ever mention how much he loves them and how grateful he is that they haven’t been taken yet, and looked around him he noticed that they were no longer underwater, and were moving at a relaxing pace.

It freaked Nile out even more and gave him an unwanted paranoia about water coasters as a whole.

Jake noticed his tight hold on Nile and apologized as he removed his arms from Nile and noticed the indents he made on Nile’s arms, a dark ooze seeping through the black hoodie.

“FUck, let me help you.” Before Nile could protest Jake took his hoodie off.

……

……

……

…..and then sees the fuckin’ stab wound, that’s where the blood was coming from.

“Nile—”

“Hey, it happened a while ago it’s getting better!” Nile tried to stand but Jake gave him a look that told him if he gets up he won’t have legs. When he finally settled and got comfortable Jake opened his dufflebag and cleaned and put a gauze pad over the wound.

“Why do you have a stab wound?”

“Because that loveable dumbass got in the way of a knife.” Nile turned around to see an average looking ghost. And his heart panged at seeing such a familiar face.

Nile’s trying not to cry.

“Hey, I was trying to help you.” Nile said and looked away from both of them.

“You also almost got trapped inside of a death portal.”

“What?”

“Hey you did too!”

“What?!”

“You haven’t explained to him anything that happened?” Nile looked sadly at the water below.

“I just didn’t want Jake to hate them, that’s all.”

“Nile,” The person sighed, “I know they’re better than they once were, Garrison definitely helped. But you can’t ignore what they’ve done, you just can’t.”

“But Thomas I–”

“Look, I’m not asking for revenge, I’ve moved on completely and have no need for revenge, but there are some things about a person you can’t forget Nile, they did some not great things to people, but I believe it is possible to move on, without forgetting where you came from. Nile, just know that you’re not hurting anybody by moving on I promise.” And then Thomas just disappeared.

——————————

Nile burst into tears beside me while I tried to breathe and get air into my lungs, and when I finally had enough air to speak, “Hey, Nile what’s wrong, what happened?” I worried about how much air he got and if he was using it all already. All I heard from him was, “I’m sorry Thomas, I’m so sorry.” I rubbed my hand up and down his back soothingly and let him cling to me. When he finally stopped crying I asked him the same question again.

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but you aren’t going to like it.”

——————————

All I managed to do afterward was hug Nile even more.

My poor boy.

“So we’re not allowed to hang out in a coffee shop huh?” I tried to joke and luckily he laughed and I didn’t have to drown myself again because I made him cry.

He did harshly punch me in the arm however, which is fair.

“Hey, you lost your glasses.” Nile pointed out.

I put my hand on my face to search for them, “Huh, guess I did.”

Nile suddenly smiled and rested his head tiredly on my shoulder, “You don’t hate them do you?”

I’m not gonna lie, it took me a while to answer this question for myself, “No, I don’t think I do at least. I hate the one lady for sure, but everyone else was relatively fine.” I paused to find my next words, “Although, using someone’s boyfriend as bait isn’t a good thing Nile.”

“I THOUGHT THAT ASSHOLE WOULD’VE TOLD HIM SOMETHING REGARDING THE PLAN, I DIDN’T KNOW HE WAS GOING IN BLIND!!!!”

“I know, just teasin’ ya.” I said and nudged him with my shoulder, “I also don’t want you to give me rat poison to try and be better friends with me either.” Nile’s face got red and he put his face in his hands and groaned, and I thought he’d been through enough already so I’ll stop teasing him for now.

The whole boat ride to the shore there was a comforting silence, probably I have no idea how many ghosts there could be around, with me and Nile’s hands almost touching.

——————————

@computerglitch306 here's some angst @shadie-cat fuck Xander

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: Phallic Judgement"

*Surprisingly, Dionysus had gone back to Rome to cause more mischief with Hermes, this time they've brought Ares along*

Dionysus: *again disguised as a wine seller* ok gentlemen, behold. The foulest creatures to crawl on the face of the earth. *Shows just random Roman citizens*

Ares: *who for some reason decided he wanted to disguise himself as the world's most intimidating slave* ......ugh....the goats? *Sees a goat*

Hermes: *cleverly disgusted as farmer* haha no. You see, these guys are absolutely weird. They insist of "rationing" Sapa, they have taxes for literally existing and above all.....their wine is watered down! But they have the best bread I've ever tasted though.

Ares: ... really?

Dionysus: don't be fooled by their baked goods my dudes. These are cruel and unrelenting scum folk. Uncultured, ignorant, and above all....they've inslaved every single country they've conquered.

Hermes: .....it's mostly about the wine isn't it?

Dionysus: ....*turns dramatically* their most unforgiving sin.

Ares: *has wondered off to see a statue of himself*.....my dick isn't THAT small.......*looks at the name plate saying "Mars"* ......I can't believe these guys misspelled my name....*takes some charcoal, scratches out Mars and writes Ares*

Centurion Gaurd: Excuse me slave! Where is your master! Slaves are not allowed near the devine statue of the gods.*sees that Ares has wrote his name on the statue's nameplate* What the?

Ares: *doesn't know the centurion was referring to him considering he's in disguise* .........*turns to the see the back of the statue* ....at least they got the ass right.

Centurion Gaurd: EXCUSE ME! Please stop making remarks about the sacred statue! You've defaced sacred property!

Ares: *slowly peaks over to the centurion* ....hey ugh there's a thing on your helmet*

Centurion Gaurd: oh really? *Pats around his helmet* where?

Ares: *points to the centurion's face* There's a shit attitude a little all over your FuCkInG ugly mug.

Centurion Gaurd: *realising what he meant* YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!

Dionysus: *walks into the situation* Oh there you are Skippy! Bad boy I thought I told you to stay close to me and not open your mouth! *takes a little stick and weakly whips Ares's shoulder with a single thing of wheat*

Ares: *confused* ...wut?

Centurion Gaurd: Is there YOUR disrespectful slave?

Ares: wait you said I was going to be a noblem-*gets a loaf of bread in his mouth by Hermes*

Hermes: please shut up or we'll leave you here to fend for yourself.

Ares: *kinda just enjoying the bread* hmfhmf.

Dionysus: You see my good sir, my slave is extremely stupid, dumb and has testicles the size of grapeseeds. He was used as a human kickball when he was an infant and was raised by goats. He can't help himself sometimes. *Tries to clean the charcoal off the statue*

Ares: *angry noises* ?!?

Centurion Gaurd: .....Ok...you have the pay the "Disrespectful Slave" tax fine.

Dionysus: .....*grumbles and takes a bag filled with gold coins* ....*gives it begrudgingly* .....*grits his teeth* have....a...good day.

Centurion Gaurd: *takes the gold and sees that it's drachma* .....hmm.....*takes out a piece of paper with a semi-crude wanted poster of Dionysus, Apollo and Hermes* ......hmm.....I watching you....sir. *leaves to find Mortus*

Dionysus: *turns to Ares and glares at him* ....you owe me 20 drachma.

Ares: *has finished eat the bread* Why? Don't these mortals know we're gods?

Dionysus: No! We're here in disguise so that was can destroy the city again. You are here to make sure the country doesn't get a chance to get back up.

Ares: Fuck yah. *Literally has no idea what he agreed to*

Hermes: *saw the wanted poster in the centurion's hand* ugh...guys we REALLY need to finish what we came here for because they're definitely on to us.

Dionysus: yeah yeah I know....come on let's go. I want to destroy the coliseum again.

Ares: what's a coliseum?

Dionysus: *suddenly a huge grin forms across his face* Hermes .....is the coliseum....open?

Hermes: let me check. *Literally speeds next to the coliseum and saw a Roman sign that says "Grand Re-Opening" and zips back to Dionysus* yeah. It's open.

Dionysus: perfect. *Pops a waterskin filled with wine, and chugs it* oh gods I'm FuCkInG dry. It's like this place sucks your very essence or something.

Hermes: hmm....yeah, shame really. *as he was following Dionysus and Ares, he accidentally dumbs into a familiar face* oops sorry miss.

Octavia: *turns around with a baby in her arms that looks suspiciously familiar* Oh pardon me sir. I didn't mean to bump into, the market seems rather busy today doesn't it?

Hermes: It's ok, I was just heading to-*knotices the baby* .....ugh...

Caius the baby: *smiles at Hermes as if he knew Hermes was his dad* ba-ba :D

Octavia: Oh sweetie, daddy is working. Oh children are so wonderous, even at a few months old, they have such an imagination. By the way, have we met before? You look so familiar....are you from the countryside?

Hermes: uuggggh *trying his best to not look Octavia in the eye* yeah, I get that all the time. Trust me I have some of my own, I mean children that is. Also no I don't think I have? *Literally hoping she doesn't recognize him even though he shape shifted into her husband a year ago*

Caius: *still happily cooing over his real dad*

Dionysus: come on buddy le-*put two and two together and scowls at Hermes* ......you didn't.

Hermes: ugh....

Dionysus: nevermind we're off! *He pulls Hermes to the direction of the coliseum*

Octavia: hmmm what a strange young man. He's handsome though.

Caius: *coos in disappointment* :(

*later*

Dionysus: *rubs his hands* hehehehehe....

Hermes: this better be worth it. I thought we would write our names on the temple walls here or something.

A Roman Announcer: Ladies and Gentlemen! This grand reopening of the Coliseum shall be in honor of our Lord and Emperor Caeser!

Caeser: *does the Royal British wave*

Dionysus: peeeeerfect.

Hermes: ......hey I got to ask...why did you bring Ares?

Dionysus: some bulky bastard is currently the head champion gladiator here, he use to live on Crete before the Romans decided to kidnap a few warriors there....let's just say my pettiness will come with effort.

Hermes: ......ok seriously man what are talking about?

Dionysus: look no one says that their dick is bigger than mine and actually gets away with it.

Hermes: ....you know....you could just smite someone. I mean it's not graceful....but it's effective.

Dionysus: hoho, I'm going to make this extra dramatic.

The Roman Announcer: And now! You're great champion, Maximus the Well-Endowed!

Maximus: *a huge, hulking man came out, roars out* HAIL CAESAR! *Leans to the announcer* I am going to get my 20 hot virgin women after this right?

Announcer: *whispers* yes yes. AND HIS CHALLENGER *looks at a note which was scribbled on his hand* ..... "Skippy the Not-Well-Endowed"! *Looks back his hand still not believing what he had read*

Ares: *is just happy to get into a fight, however was oddly enough only was only wearing a loin cloth and a helmet, armed with a shield and spear* ......oh boy, a whole stadium just for killing? These people rock!

Hermes: ........you didn't....

Dionysus: yep.

Ares: *steps side to side like an exited kid* comeoncomeoncomeonstartthefighting.

Maximus: Alright Skippy, time to end your tiny dicked existence. *Raised his sword on to Ares but Ares was able to break it with his helmet* !?

Ares: ....that's it?

Maximum: *confused* ugh....*waves to order in more weapons, all of which fail to hurt Ares*

Ares: .......aw come on...you guys have some shitty ass weapons. Bet YOUR weapon is just as shit.

Maximus: grrrrr.....YOU PUNY SLAVE! *Rips off his armored skirt* See! You're fucking wrong!

Roman crowd: *gasps*

Dionysus: .....

Hermes: *whistles* holyshit....dude this guy is hung.

Dionysus: If there's one god who can contest me....the only god who's dick is so epic, so powerful, so irresistible, so near perfect......that Aphrodite can't FuCkInG resist it on a daily basis.

Hermes: Heracles?

Dionysus: No buddy, Ares. Ares is the guy who's dick is better than mine I mean come on a guy who shags the goddess of love more times than any living thing HAS to have something going on down there

Some Roman Karen: EXCUSE me is pronounced Venus! We don't use greek words here.

Dionysus: Please leave me alone lady.

Some Roman Karen: *rhees in anger*

Dionysus and Hermes: *both are struggling to ignore her*

Ares: ....ok...that dick of your isn't that great.....*rips off his loin cloth* .....THIS....is a dick.

Crowd: *the women and gay men swoons over the perfect of Ares's bare body, men quake and cringe at their own feeble members and put to shame*

Caesar: *completely unimpressed and decided to leave* hmf. Pathetic.

Maximus: *wriggles in shame* HOW c-C-C-could this be?! The most PERFECT COCK? Oh my gods why is it fucking glowing?!

Ares: ....what you don't shave yourself weekly? I mean come on man that's how you keep the ladies coming back?

Maximus: *starts crying a little*

Dionysus: *cackling uncontrollably* SO THATS HIS SECRET! *writes on a piece of paper saying "shave, dick, weekly"*

Hermes: *still not fully understanding why all of this* ........you brought Ares here JUST to emasculate some gladiator?

Dionysus: Oh much more than that Herms.....much much m-

Roman Karen: EXCUSE YOU SIR ITS MERCURY!

Dionysus: *has had enough and turned her into a chicken* there much better.

Hermes: .....are you ok? Did you have your wine today?

Dionysus: I RAN OUT OF WINE LONG AGO!

Hermes: *deep sigh* not again.

Ares: *now in full naked display* ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!? *The crowd roared and cheered*

Dionysus: well....yah want to set the animals free from their cages?

Hermes: fuk ye-*feels a tough and strong hand practically crushing his shoulder* .....*turns to see an old man who clearly was Zeus* .....

Zeus: .....boys.....

Dionysus and Hermes: .....Uh Oh.

Zeus: *took each of them by their ears like a discontented mother* you're BOTH grounded for bothering these mortals and above all abusing the dark, unholy power of the sacred male member ....if I had a third arm it would be reserved for Ares. *Looks down at Ares now just doing some naked dance for the crowd*........*deep and disappointed sigh*

Dionysus: but dad, I do that like everyday.

Zeus: I don't care if I don't discipline you or Hermes right the now, Hera will have MY male member nailed to the wall.

(Later that day)

Mortus: *inner noir detective monologue* after several months, nothing. Absolutely nothing. The suspects disappeared from the face of the empire. Likely their crimes have caught up with them. My only consolation to solving this case....is the mysterious birth of my son and my faithful wife. .... speaking of which...why does Caius have blue eyes? Me and Octavia have brown.....did ...she?....nah that's impossible.

The Centurion from earlier: MY LORD! I FOUND THE SUSPECTS!

Mortus: *dramatically turns around* This better be the right ones this time.

*much later after apparently an orgy broke out at the coliseum*

Mortus: .... Absolutely disgusting. Practicing Sexual Festivities without a license is punishable by crucifixion, Mark.

The Announcer (Mark): B-b-but sir! It wasn't my fault! Some slave was to challenge Maximus and they just decided to remove their clothing and everyone went wild! ....to be fair the slave did look a little attractive BUT the fornicating ceased once the slave disappeared.

Mortus:....was he accompanied by a portly, dark haired ..... individual?......an extremely attractive blonde slave and a thinner more athletic young man with brown hair?

The Announcer: ...hmm...well yes minus the other slave.

Mortus: Hmmm.....the plot thickens.....are these the mysterious criminals that destroyed the coliseum last year?....What is the motivated behind these depraved individuals?.....

The Announcer: ugh...why are you talking to yourself?

[ashkazora]

2020 Fic Roundup

Stats:

Fics Posted (Total): 13

In chronological order: Cold Floors and Warm Hearts - a fluffy shance fic about the three times Shiro accidentally wakes up in Lance’s room. Exchange fic. 3,441 words.

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You - a small klance fillet based on the US tv show, The Blacklist. 639 words.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) - a Lance-centric gen fic exploring his relationship with the Blue Lion, and her control over him. 15,618 words.

Coffee Grinds and Morse Code - a post-s8, Shance fic written for the valentines shance exchange! 3,593 words.

Nectar and Ambrosia - my first Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for the square ‘denied food as punishment.’ Lance whump. 2,641 words.

there ain't no rest for the wicked - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill for ‘big brother instincts,’ but this time with Plance and Lance whump. 3,508 words. 

Of Claws and Steel - a science-fiction, super sentai cat armour AU entered around the Lions as futuristic mecha armour. Most underrated fic here. 14,344 words.

Hairline Fractures - another Bad Things Happen Bingo prompt fill, ‘bleeding through bandages.’ Lance whump (again). 5,059 words.

Leverage - last Bad Things Happen Bingo fill for the year, for the prompt ‘on a leash.’ Featuring Shance, and Lance and Shiro whump. 7,743 words.

Lay It Down To Save It - Leakira Klance AU written for Leakira week. Made in collaboration with @crapoftheworldblr​! 18,102 words.

to the stars and back - The Dragon Prince Plance AU with Prince!Lance and Elf!Pidge. In collaboration with @rosieclark​! 36,574 words.

Sweeter Than Honey - written for the Blue Moon Lance zine! Features BAMF!Lance as the honeypot on a mission. 4,098 words.

In The Closet - Klance fic for the winner of my fic giveaway. Fluffy, and definitely a bit saucy. 2,363 words.

Fics Posted (Gen): 5

the water was dark (and it went down forever) Nectar and Ambrosia Of Claws and Steel  Hairline Fractures  Sweeter Than Honey

Plance: 2

there ain't no rest for the wicked to the stars and back 

Shance: 3

Cold Floors and Warm Hearts Coffee Grinds and Morse Code  Leverage

Klance: 3

These Boots Are Gonna Walk All Over You Lay It Down To Save It  In The Closet

Collaborations: 2

Lay It Down To Save It to the stars and back

Ship/Character breakdown:

Ship breakdown:

This year, the biggest ship I wrote for was Shance (3 fics), with Plance (2) and Klance (2.5) coming in from behind. The k/l ficlet doesn’t count as a full fic.

Character breakdown:

Of the 13 fics, Lance is in the most with 13 (insert surprised pikachu face here), then it goes Shiro (12), Keith (10), Pidge (8), Hunk (7), Allura (6) and Matt Holt (2). Other characters appear only once, such as Coran, Haggar and Kolivan. Technically, the Blue Lion clocks in at 2 mentions. 

Characters that had the main focus:

Lance had the sole POV for 7 of those fics, and shared POVs (in a collaboration) iin 2 additional fics. Shiro had the second most POVs at a total of 3, while Keith had 1 sole POV and 1 shared POV, and Pidge with one shared POV.

Specifics:

Best/worst title?

Best title: the water was dark (and it went down forever), but honestly so many other fics has titles I liked. This title was based off of the Tim Winton short story by the name name, The Water Was Dark And It Went Down Forever, where the main character swims and debatably drowns. So it’s fairly fitting.

Runners up titles include Sweeter Than Honey, to the stars and back, and Lay It Down To Save It.

Worst title: Hairline Fractures. It’s dumb and it makes no sense. It was the first thing that came to mind.

An honourable mention includes Leverage, which would be first if not for the fact that the title inspired the ending, so it’s not too bad.

Best/worst last line?

Best: From the water was dark (and it went down forever):

Blue’s grasp on him was like an endless expanse; an opulent and brilliant ocean. Her waters were dark, and  it went  down forever.

This was definitely my favourite, even though it’s pretty cringe. The way it was formatted in ao3 and the way it related to the title plus the reoccurring symbolism of water made it pretty neat!

Worst: From there ain't no rest for the wicked:

Pidge laughed, and turned her back from the darkness.

I’m sorry. This ending was so cringey. I hate it. There’s nothing else to say except I have no idea how to fix it. Oof.

General questions:

Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

tbh, I wrote a lot more, considering I had my final exams this year. Breaching 100k was crazy. 

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted last year?

Honestly? Klance. I’m not the biggest fan of the ship but writing it is very interesting, and I enjoyed it. 

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Of Claws and Steel hands down! It’s the first fic idea I ever had for VLD,  and the one I really love the most. One day I’d love to write a continuation of it, but the reception of the fic wasn’t great so idk.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

the water was dark (and it went down forever) even though it was started in 2019, was finished this year and is my most popular fic of all time! It’s got 4k+ hits and 450+ kudos. Crazy, since it was only supposed to be a dumb little warm up fic to get me back into writing in preparation for Of Claws and Steel. Alas, turns out people really liked it!

Story most underappreciated by the universe?

Of Claws and Steel. It was the fic I worked the hardest on this year but got the least amount of attention :)

Story that could have been better?

Easily there ain't no rest for the wicked. There was so much plot and so many things I wanted to include but didn't. There’s a lot of things missing and bad plot flow. One day if I got more time, I’d love to write more on it.

Sexiest story?

In The Closet, hands down. It gets a bit steamy with a k/l makeout session. Originally it was going to be a lot saucier but I wasn’t too comfortable in my ability to write it well ahaha. 

Saddest story?

None of my stories were sad, per se. Most of the sad ones were more scary/foreboding rather than actually being sad. I guess to the stars and back right now, because it’s dealing with Lance’s insecurities and Pidge’s desperation to find her brother (and a lot of other things, which will be revealed in the future!)

Most fun?

Sweeter Than Honey! It was fun to write and is my most fun fic. BAMF!Lance and his witty commentary is always a great laugh.

Story with single sweetest moment? 

I can’t choose :,). It’s a three-way tie between Cold Floors and Warm Hearts’s last scene where Shiro realises Lance bought him the necklace, Lay It Down To Save It’s scene that I can’t say because it’s technically unpublished ;), and to the stars and back’s scene where Lance and Pidge talk about what they would like to be in life (ch3).

Hardest story to write?

Probably Of Claws and Steel, as I completely stagnated on the story for a long time. It took me 8 months to write it. Without Rue’s help, I probably would have taken so much longer. Runners up is Leverage, as it took me like a solid week to write 90% of it, and 3 more months to write the remaining 10%. For some reason, parts of that fic were such a pain to write. 

Easiest/most fun story to write?

The easiest was definitely to the stars and back. I could relate to a lot of Lance’s actions and thoughts in the fic, so writing his POV was super easy and rather cathartic ngl. However the most fun was probably Sweeter Than Honey, as it was super self indulgent ahaha.

Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

Lay It Down To Save It changed my perception of Keith. I don’t particularly like Keith in canon, but I’ve warmed up to his fanon self and general character after writing from his POV.

Most overdue story?

Of Claws and Steel easily! It was the first VLD fic idea I had but took 8 months to write. Oops? 

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

For the first time I incorporated HTML coding into my fics, which taught me a lot about coding and different ways to convey certain messages and detail things. These codings altered fonts and colours, which you can see in 

What are your fic writing goals for next year?

Write my tua/vld au fic, which will be my first solo multi chapter fic, and hopefully finish it by the end of next year. Also, sticking to a consistent writing schedule and try to write at least 100 words a day, plus finishing TSSAB. I’d also like to finish some more BTHB prompts!

That’s all, folks! Thank you all for sticking with my writing! Hopefully 2021 brings even more writing, fun times, and great fics. Happy New Years (in 24 hours), everyone!

[ghostking-wenning]

Radishes, Chapter 4

I wrote this all in one go last night, and I think it came together pretty good! So y’all get a lil two-fer today. This chapter is mostly dialogue, which is probably my specialty! Lemme know whatcha think. 

1900 words, rated T for drinking I guess, NingXian, modern au, first date, momentary angst but it’s resolved really quick!

Enjoy~!

“Thank you! We’re The Whatevers! We have stickers and T-shirts at the merch counter. Have a great night!” Wuxian waved as he and his bandmates gathered their things and left the stage. Their set was short, but it was easily the most exciting thing Qionglin had seen in … well, ever, probably. The host in the strappy dress came back, and thanked The Whatevers, chatting to fill time while the next band set up.

“Hey!” Wuxian suddenly appeared at his side. He’d shed his leather jacket, and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin.

“Hey!” Qionglin parroted back, hopping to his feet. “That was amazing! You really are a rockstar!” Wuxian had put on heeled boots for the show, and now towered a few inches over him. Qionglin had to tip his head further back to meet his eyes.

Wuxian laughed breezily. “Thank you so much! I’m glad you liked it. It means a lot.”

“Of course! I um, I really like your s-singing. And the lyrics were really poetic and moving, but still cool and exciting! I-- I haven’t heard a lot of music like that before.” 

“Oh, gosh, thanks!” Wuxian gushed. “I didn’t know anyone actually listened to the lyrics, heh…”

“You asked me to,” Qionglin explained. “But I think I would’ve noticed them anyway, they’re…” He searched for the right word. “Beautiful.” 

Wuxian didn’t say anything for a while, just stared down at him intensely. Qionglin shuffled his feet and broke eye contact. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Wuxian eventually asked.

“Uh, out? Where?” Qionglin forced himself to look back at him, but his expression was still so piercing. Qionglin bit his lower lip, and his stomach flipped over when Wuxian’s gaze flicked downward. 

His face finally softened, a slight smile curling his lips. “I know a place. Let’s go.”

Qionglin followed him back through the greenroom, and out of the club. They walked a few blocks, to a quiet bar called the Lilypad. It was decorated in blues and greens and purples, live plants overflowing from handmade ceramic pots. Soft, traditional Chinese music lilted through the air.

“Wow,” Qionglin remarked. “This place is cute! Kind of a 180 from the Devil’s Den, huh?”

“Mhm!” Wuxian agreed. “It’s an old favorite. My dad took my brother and me here for our first drinks when we turned 18.”

They took their seats across from each other at a small round table. Brightly colored fish swam in an aquarium next to them. Wuxian perused the drink menu. They had a beautiful view of the river, glinting faintly in the twilight.

“What’s good here?” Qionglin wondered aloud. “This probably isn’t surprising, but I don’t drink very often. Pretty much just on holidays at family dinners or whatever.”

“Hmm… do you trust me?” Wuxian asked, peering over the menu, one eyebrow raised.

Qionglin looked at him, confused. “Yes…?” 

“Good!” Wuxian said decisively, tapping the side of his nose. “Wait right here.” And he whisked away.

“Okay…” Qionglin waited obediently. A couple of minutes later, Wuxian reappeared with two glasses of pale golden wine.

“This is one of the best things you’ll ever taste,” he promised, setting one glass in front of Qionglin. 

Qionglin raised his eyebrows. “Not what I was expecting…” he began, lifting the glass and sniffing curiously. The wine smelled of lotus blossoms and ripe plums. He took a tentative sip. The golden liquor warmed his lips, but didn’t burn as it slid down his throat. Its sweet aroma reminded him of summertime. “It’s delicious!”

“Right?” Wuxian effused. “It’s called Hefeng. It’s a specialty from my hometown. Also, I lied. It’s the second best thing you’ll ever taste. The first one is harder to find up here.” He drank happily from his glass, smiling fondly.

“Oh? What’s the first one?” 

“It’s called Emperor’s Smile. They only make it in Suzhou, though, and the vineyard that makes it doesn’t distribute it. Something about how it doesn’t taste right outside of Suzhou, I dunno. Sounds like bullshit to me, but it’s damn good wine.” He sighed wistfully. “If I get a bottle, I’ll save you a glass.” 

Qionglin felt heat rising to his face, and tried to hide it behind his wine glass. He took a long sip. 

“Pace yourself,” Wuxian warned. “It’s stronger than it tastes.” 

Indeed it was. Less than a quarter-hour later, Qionglin’s glass was empty and he was feeling quite buzzed. Oops, he thought faintly. Oh well!

“So tell me about yourself,” Wuxian prompted. He swirled the wine in his glass; he was on his second cup, but seemed thus far unaffected.

“Oof,” Qionglin muttered. “What’s there to tell? I’m … Just a farmer, I guess. I like plants and animals. I like to cook. That’s kind of it.” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly the most interesting guy around. I’m probably pretty boring, huh?”

“Don’t say that,” Wuxian chided. “If you were boring, we wouldn’t be here. Tell me about farming! How’d you get into that?”

Qionglin blinked. No one had ever asked. “Well, it’s a family thing. The farm’s been in our family for over a hundred years. My cousins and I are starting to take over the bulk of the work from our aunties and granny.” 

“What about your folks? What do they do?” 

“Oh… Um… They were doctors.”

“On the farm?”

“N-no, I mean… before they died.” Awkwardly, Qionglin glanced out the window. It was dark out now, but he could see city lights twinkling across the water.

“What? No way!” Wuxian blurted out.

“Uh… It’s not exactly unheard of…” Qionglin picked at his paper napkin.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Wuxian corrected. “I um. Lost my parents too. When I was really little.”

“Oh.” Qionglin looked back at him and offered an apologetic smile. “What a thing to have in common, huh? But I thought you mentioned your dad earlier?”

“Yeah, I was adopted. I was in the foster system for a few years, then a friend of my father’s found me and took me in. He’s been very kind to me. His kids are like my real siblings.” He cleared his throat. “So, what about you? Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah, a big sister!” Qionglin said, already forgetting the maudlin turn their conversation had taken. “Her name is Qing and she’s the coolest. She’s in medical school here in the city. What are your siblings like?” 

Wuxian smiled warmly. “I have a big sister too. She’s probably my favorite person ever. Her name’s Yanli, she’s a pastry chef. My brother, Wanyin, is… he’s my best friend, but he’s kind of an acquired taste. In other words, he’s a total dickhead, but I love him anyway!” His laughter was almost as beautiful as his singing.

Qionglin couldn’t help but laugh too. “They sound great,” he mused.

“Yeah…” Wuxian sighed. “Even my boyfriend likes them, and he doesn’t like anyone!”

Qionglin’s heart dropped like a stone. “... your what…?” He whispered, praying he’d heard wrong. Involuntarily, his hands curled into fists in his lap.

Wuxian blanched. “My-- my boyfriend? Don’t tell me-- did I never mention him?”

“No. You didn’t.” Qionglin said shortly. He couldn’t believe he’d been so naive. He must’ve misread his kindness and openness as flirting, and like a fool, fell for it. Maybe Wuxian was just like this to everyone he met. He felt hot from the inside out, like his bones had turned to molten lead. His skin prickled, and his breath hitched like suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. “I should go.” He stood abruptly, slapped a stack of small bills on the table, more than enough for one glass of wine, and hurried out of the bar. 

The shock sobered him up instantly. He walked briskly down the street, vision blurred with tears. He hoped he was walking back to his car, but the streets all looked the same, especially in the dark. Stupid! Of course he already has someone! Why would he ever waste his time on me? He roughly swiped the tears away with his shirtsleeves. Just my fucking luck, isn’t it? The first time I ever like someone and it goes like this. So much for new beginnings and taking chances, huh?

“Wait--!” Wuxian fumbled for his wallet, paid quickly and ran after him. “Qionglin! Wait, I can explain!” 

Qionglin walked faster and tried to ignore him, but he caught up easily and cut him off. Qionglin took a shaky breath. “Explain what?” He spat, refusing to look at him. “I … I thought you… ugh, never mind.” Words rarely came easily, but it was even harder to speak when he was so worked up. “God I’m an idiot…” he muttered.

“No, you’re not--! I didn’t mean to… to lead you on or anything. I-- my boyfriend and I-- we’re open. I’m polyamorous.”

Qionglin blinked a few times. He’d heard that word before, but wasn’t sure he understood. 

“It means I sometimes have feelings for more than one person.” Wuxian explained. “My boyfriend, Wangji -- he doesn’t feel the same way, but he understands that I do, we have an agreement and everything. I-- I swear I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I really just forgot I hadn’t already told you.” Qionglin still avoided looking at him, but his tone was gentle and sincere. 

Qionglin sniffed. “S-- so what?” 

“So… Can I have a do-over? A new first date, a proper one. A-anything you want to do! I know I don’t deserve it… but I like you. Will you let me try again?” Slowly, shyly, he reached for Qionglin’s hand. Qionglin flinched but didn’t pull away, letting Wuxian gently prise his fingers apart and twine them together. 

Qionglin’s head was spinning. Suddenly he felt tipsy again. “S-so…” he repeated slowly. “You do like me…?”

Wuxian chuckled softly. “Yeah, I do.” With his free hand he reached up and delicately dabbed the tears from the corners of Qionglin’s eyes. “I’m so sorry I upset you like that. That was my fault.” For someone so carefree and vivacious, he could be surprisingly mature when he wanted to be. “I won’t do it again.”

Qionglin swallowed hard. “Okay…” he whispered.

Wuxian stepped even closer. Their chests were nearly touching. “Okay? You mean it?” He asked hopefully.

Qionglin nodded. He looked up at Wuxian finally, and managed a shy smile. Wuxian pulled Qionglin into his arms, squeezing tightly. Qionglin wondered when was the last time anyone hugged him like this. Tentatively, he brought his arms up and wrapped them around Wuxian’s waist, leaning into the embrace and resting his forehead on his shoulder. He was still reeling a bit from the emotional whiplash, but Wuxian’s arms were warm, strong, and grounding. His heart rate slowed, and his breathing evened out. "So a do-over, huh? A proper… date?" He said, voice muffled in the collar of Wuxian's jacket.

Wuxian finally let go and stepped back, hands still lingering on Qionglin’s own. “Yes! Let me know what you want to do. Say the word and we’ll go, okay?” 

Qionglin thought for a moment, humming and tipping his head to the side. 

“You don’t have to think of it right now!” Wuxian clarified. “You can just text me when you decide.”

Qionglin shook his head. “No, no, I’ve got it. Let’s go to the zoo. I'm… free tomorrow! Or next Saturday. Every Saturday, actually…"

Wuxian smiled that sunshine smile. “Tomorrow is perfect.”

[wewillwriteyou]

Hello! I've previously read some of your imagines and they are really good. I was wondering if I could make a request though? I was thinking something like 'the reader finds out that they're pregnant by Ben Hardy, and then they break up but she doesn't tell Ben about it. Then 6 months later (when you have your pregnant stomach) Ben runs into you but thinks that you're someone else and you fall back in love. ' Hope that's okay? Thanks! :)

Thank you so much for the ask @queenlover05! Sorry, it took us a while to answer, we hope this story is worth the wait! 💕🔥 

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Warnings: ANGST, language, mentions of unprotected sex, pregnancy and a LOT of FLUFF in the end

Characters: Y/N & Ben Hardy

Word count: 2.6K words a little longer than usual for a request, my hand slipped oops

Written by: @deakyswhitequeen

Disclaimers:

This is a work of fiction. Please DO NOT take this as facts from real life. We don’t know the actual people nor do we claim to know what they do on their own time. They’re just characters here.

Remember that this contains ANGST; if you feel uncomfortable when reading this kind of topic/situation, please just skip this story.

Love you, folks xxx

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Request a story from this prompt list!

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Staring at the white and blue bathroom tiles of your bathroom’s floor, you forced yourself to remember how to breathe.

Closing your eyes, you inhaled, held your breath, and exhaled. Repeatedly.

How the fuck did this happen?

  Stay calm. Breathe. Clear your mind.

When the fuck did this happen?

  Breathe. Everything’s gonna be okay. Stay calm.

Fuck, what am I gonna do now?

  Clear your mind.

Do I tell him?

  Stop it. Breathe.

Shit, how should I call him? Or text him? Should I show up at his place? Should I tell him to come at mine? Will he want to see me? Do I want to see him again? Should I wait a while? Should I tell him right away?

“STOP!” you yelled out.

You didn’t mean to scream it out. Those voices inside your head were becoming louder and louder and were talking over each other and constantly fighting. You felt like your head was gonna explode.

Your eyes shut open and focused again on the intricate motives on the white tiles of your bathroom.

Looking around you, you found the stick on the floor two feet away from you.

Three lines. No way you could mistake it. You were pregnant.

In all your life, of all the times you’d imagined that moment, you’d never imagined something like that.

You thought it would have been a joyful moment, with a little bit of fear and worry for the huge step you’d gonna be taking, but mainly happiness. With the person you’d be spending your life with.

Instead, you found yourself sitting on the floor of your bathroom, alone.

You felt hopeless, abandoned and utterly, completely alone.

Rubbing your eyes with your hands, you forced yourself to find the strength of standing up and looking at your reflection in the mirror.

Now all the late evening sicknesses, the aversion to tuna and salmon which you normally loved and the sense of uneasiness every time you got up in the morning had a reason to be. What a fool you felt now for not having understood earlier.

You stared at your own reflection, turning halfway to your left, looking for some signs of a bigger belly but everything looked normal to you. It must have been like a month or two max.

Caressing your lower belly, you sighed. The next thing in your mind besides coming to terms with it  was realising you now would have had to tell him.

The thought of him brought you back to the night when six weeks ago the two of you had put the word ’end’ to your relationship. That night had only been the climax of a lot of things piling up over those months of being together, like fights about him always being away, fights about you working late in the evenings and endless fights about way too many rescheduled dates and missed calls.

You remembered the look on his face when you both realised that that was it for the two of you. You remembered him cupping your face and kissing you heavily and passionately and then him rolling you over on his couch and just exploring every inch of your body as if to try and impress it all in his mind. You remembered not wanting that moment to end and savouring every inch of his skin, inhaling his cologne and absorbing the image of his beautiful green eyes into yours.

You also remembered crying your eyes out later that same night. After making love for what seemed like an eternity and a fraction of a second at the same time, he’d fallen asleep next to you and you’d felt tears pricking behind your eyes. You’d cried silently and lulled yourself to sleep that way, knowing you’d never stop loving him.

The timer beeping in the kitchen told you it was midnight and brought you back from your flashback.

You couldn’t tell him about the pregnancy.

You knew that the second your eyes would have met his, you’d become puddle at his feet. You were too much in love with him to have the strength of telling him you were expecting his baby and then see him walk away again from you.

Getting over him was one of the hardest things you’d ever done and you were not sure you would have bared to do it another time.

You opened the sink and let cold water wash over your face. When you looked back up at yourself in the mirror, you were sure you’d taken the right decision.

Months passed and your determination and will power made it possible that the baby grew strong and healthy in your belly, which was getting bigger and bigger by the day, according to your friends and family. They had repeatedly asked you who the father was, but the only person who you’d actually told the truth to was your gynecologist.

She was the only one who knew the father of your baby was actually Ben freaking Hardy.

Every time someone close to you asked you who the father was, you just said it was this guy who you’d seen for a few months and then broke up with because of his work. Which in fact was not entirely untrue… you just happened to omit the fact that the guy was a world-famous celebrity.

You resolved way early in the pregnancy that sharing the father’s identity would only have compromised his work – the media would have followed him everywhere – and your privacy.

It was only easier this way.

As you walked through your last six months in your mind, a little smile popped up on your lips and you mentally applauded yourself for handling it so well.

You were only a few gynecologist-appointments away to the due date and not a single call or text from Ben. Over the months, as you taught yourself to forget about him, you figured he had forgotten about you.

That Monday you had left home later than usual for your OBGYN appointment. Your heels clicked on the asphalt of the sidewalk as you walked quickly from your car to the clinic. You checked in for the examination and were told you had a two-hour wait ahead of you.

Hearing your stomach grumble for something to eat – which you had not had in the hurry of leaving home as soon as possible – you decided to employ those two hours in getting breakfast at the Starbucks across the street.

Just like you’d expect, there were dozens of people in line for coffee. You patiently got in line and took out your phone to look through your messages and pass the time.

Two messages from mom, a missed call from your friend Debbie and an Instagram direct from your group of friends. The usual.

Scrolling through your feed you noticed recurring photos of Ben recently taken by paparazzi. Ben in a sweatshirt jogging in the park, Ben in his grey beanie walking Frankie, Ben in the pink suit at Wembley with Gwilym.

His face seemed to be everywhere those days. And it was becoming harder to ignore the fact that you hadn’t told him about the baby.

You sighed frustrated and put your phone away in your purse, accidentally elbowing the person behind you in line.

As you turned to apologize, you looked up and froze on your spot.

You’d looked at one of his pictures on the phone like three seconds ago and there he was.

“Sorry…” you mumbled and quickly turned around. You had only been able to catch a glimpse of the reassuring smile he had given you.

He was wearing air pods so he probably hadn’t even heard you. You hoped he hadn’t noticed how red you’d become on your cheeks and how awkward you were moving now that you knew he was behind you.

He was even more handsome than you remembered, with his stupid black leather jacket you used to borrow all the time and the black sunglasses in his hair. It was hard not to think how much you’d missed him.

“What’s your name sweetheart?” the woman behind the cashier asked you.

You shot a fleeting glimpse behind you and answered: “Y/N”.

As she wrote down your name on the cup, you felt something moving behind you and you soon heard his voice

“Y/N, is that you?” Ben asked from behind you.

Crap. Your cover had been compromised.

You slowly turned to him and waved a little “Hi”

You saw him smile widely, then taking in your whole figure and painting his face with genuine surprise.

“Wow, it’s been so long…” he attempted, rubbing his neck awkwardly “ehm… congratulations…!”

You smiled back and thanked him, as you walked away from the cashier and found a place at a table nearby.

“So how have you been?” you asked him with a polite smile, while the butterflies stormed in your stomach.

He told you about his recent projects and the future ones and you nodded along like you would with a long lost friend with whom you don’t have the same intimacy anymore.

He stopped for a second and smiled.

“You look radiant” He just commented and you felt your cheeks flushing.

“Oh stop it, Ben”

“No, I mean it…” he continued “You look happy”

He smiled again then added “I don’t know who he is… but I can see he makes you happy”

You felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Maybe it’s the hormones.

You shook your head “It’s not a he…” you giggled lightly at the confusion on his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry I-”

“It’s a she…” you interrupted him “but she’s very young, she doesn’t have a name yet…”

As you said so, you saw his eyes focusing on your hand placed on your prominent belly.

He looked back at you and chuckled “Well, in this case, I’m very happy for you. A girl… like you always wanted…”

You didn’t know if it was your imagination or something, but those words sounded so sad and sincere to your ears.

You gave him a small smile before looking away from his eyes.

“Is it inappropriate for me to ask who the father is?” he attempted.

You looked back at him and slowly shook your head.

“It is not inappropriate. It’s a legitimate question and you have no idea how many times people have asked me…”

He smiled “And what do you tell them?”

That sneaky bastard knows me too well.

“’You don’t know him… we’ve dated for a while but we’re not together anymore’”

“And what do you tell me?”

He knows it’s not the entire truth, I cannot believe him.

You found yourself torn between the decision to keep him in outside the whole thing and the urge to tell him everything.

“Exactly what I say to everyone that asks… I’m not seeing the guy anymore” you answered and Ben nodded slowly.

“Do I know him?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

You smiled a little “I’m not sure…”

He shifted in his seat and leaned in towards you so he could whisper, “Then tell me his name, I might remember him…”

His green eyes were staring into yours and you felt at home after a long time of wandering around. If you’d been prone to sarcasm a few minutes ago, now there was no trace of it. You could read in his eyes he was trying to remain still while thinking you had been with somebody else.

“Can I ask you something?” you suddenly said, trusting your instinct.

He nodded vividly “Sure, Y/N, anything…”

“Have you ever thought about us since… you know… we broke up?”

He bit his lip, like he would always do when he had something hard or important to say, and gently took your hands into his.

“You have always been in my mind…” he admitted in a low voice looking down at your hands “Whether I was asleep or awake, you were always there… and I’ll never forgive myself for letting you slip away from me”

“You didn’t let me…” you stopped him “I slipped away cause we both decided it was best for us. I decided that–”

“Yeah, but I didn’t stop you. I thought our decision would have made my life easier… I didn’t imagine how wrong could I be…”

You didn’t expect such an open-hearted confession.

“Do you really feel this way?” you asked cautiously.

He looked right back at you “Of course I do, Y/N, I-”

“Then answer this,” you interrupted him again “if we could go back to that moment and change what happened, would you want to?”

You were staring into each other’s eyes and it felt like the world around you had stopped. As you waited for an answer, you felt his thumb rubbing circles on your hand.

“No, I wouldn’t” he then said and you felt the small ray of hope dying out inside of you.

“Oh-”

“I wouldn’t change what happened because it made me understand what life feels without you and now I know I’m ready to make things work”

Your lips parted in shock. It was exactly what you’d always dreaded to hear from him. What was happening felt surreal and before you knew it you caught him inching closer and softly kissing your lips.

It was like coming home after a long time and the gentleness of the kiss made your heart soar.

You pulled away and looked down at your hands still intertwined to his, a small giggle falling off your lips.

“I missed this” you admitted looking back up.

He smiled openly “I missed you” he kissed your lips again, before pulling away, “so… do we get a second chance?”

You chuckled “Would you believe me if I said I’d been waiting for you to ask me this for the last six months?”

Ben chuckled as well, leaning in and resting his forehead against yours “I’m sorry it took so long”

“It’s okay,” you smiled “we made it, didn’t we?”

He smiled as well, “Yeah, we did”, he stopped for a second, then added: “Would the father be okay with this?”

Your lips curved in a big smile, “I bet he would. He’s a very cool guy, you know?” an idea popped into your head and you picked up your phone, “in fact, I’m gonna tell him right now…”

Ben’s eyes widened a little “You’re gonna text him now? Y/N, that’s not neces-”

A faint bing caught his attention and interrupted him mid-sentence.

He excused himself and stuck out his phone. You laughed a little, partially because you realized he hadn’t changed the phone cover you’d given him for his birthday, and partially because of his priceless expression once he’d read the text you’d sent him.

He looked up at you, his pink lips parted in surprise and his green eyes watery and glowing with renewed light.

“Are you joking?” he asked with a nervous chuckle.

You vividly shook your head “It’s you, Ben.”

He huffed and let out a light chuckle, nervously passing a hand through his blond curls.

“I-I can’t believe this…” he sniffled and only then you realized he was actually on the verge of crying.

You reached out to take his hand and held it tight into yours, smiling nicely and gently rubbing it with your fingers.

“This is our second chance”

⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂

Did you like this story? Check out what else we’ve written on our masterlist!

Do you have an idea for a story? Put together a request from our prompt list!

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[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 5! (And AO3, of course.)

Amy had entertained the idea of becoming a cop for a while in high school. She’d been in her sophomore year, when all of the Real Life conversations were just starting at school: The AP kids were obsessed with the PSAT and everyone had to go to mandatory career fairs and Amy had even started getting a few college brochures at home. Amy’s plans – though thoroughly detailed and organized – only went as far as getting into a really good college, and then figuring out the rest from there. But she’d spent a lot of time imagining herself in different jobs, and her fantasies had carouseled around becoming an internationally renowned cancer researcher, the next Sonia Sotomayor, or the youngest captain in NYPD history.

(She’d occasionally daydreamed about life as a journalist, maybe working overseas somewhere. But an actual career had seemed profoundly unrealistic. Until, one day, it wasn’t.)

She’d eventually ruled out the first two careers – scientist and judge – because science kind of bored her, if she was honest, and she didn’t have the gravitas or the social intelligence to be a leader like Sotomayor. So by default she’d leaned into the captain fantasy.

At the same time, she started to notice how many late nights and weekends her father worked, and how some nights he came home with such a deep weariness in his shoulders that her mom just hugged him and held on. She saw, too, how cops were treated. Sure, there were the folks in their neighborhood who greeted Victor Santiago by name, who were proud to have a cop in their community. But she also heard the slurs shouted from passing cars and the hissed insults when she walked with him down the street. She knew what her friends in school said about cops. Some of their hate and distrust was earned – not by her father, but by other cops – but it still upset her. Victor Santiago was a kind, decent man, in a difficult, often thankless job.

Now, sitting at her desk at 10 p.m. on a Friday night, she felt angry on his behalf as she pored over the papers she’d been studying all week. Her father – and Jake, and other good cops – worked so hard for the people in this city, and these dumbasses in corrections were just blithely stomping all over people’s rights.

The irony of it, Amy knew, was that when her story ran most readers wouldn’t know, or care, that these jerks weren’t representative of all cops – they weren’t even part of the NYPD. Which meant that the good guys would get dumped on all over again. And there wasn’t anything she could do about it, other than write the truth.

Sometimes, Amy thought, this job sucked too.

The newsroom was quiet at this hour, the crackle of her police scanner unnaturally loud. Amy tipped the sound down a bit and stretched, lifting her arms over her head and looking around. Charles was the only other person in the newsroom, typing furiously. She assumed he was working on his personal food blog because the city desk deadline had passed an hour ago. Holt’s door was closed, the office dark beyond the blinds he’d left up. Amy sighed and flipped to the next page. There was another code she didn’t recognize so she added it to her growing list of numbers to look up later.

Beside the stack of papers, her phone suddenly vibrated, and Amy instantly smiled to herself. The screen lit up with a text from Pineapples: “OMG I have a killer story for you, literally killer. Call ASAP.”

Amy laughed out loud before she could stop herself, and slapped a hand over her mouth. She replied: “Stop it! You know I can’t write anything right now.”

“Oops sorry. Hold on, texting the Times.”

“Don’t you dare,” Amy wrote.

Jake replied with a shrug emoji, followed by a devil emoji and then a series of farm animal emojis.

Amy glanced at the time on her phone, and then the stack of papers in front of her.

She wrote: “What are you doing right now? I need dinner.”

“It’s 10 p.m.”

“I know,” Amy wrote. “Been a long day.”

She realized, belatedly, that she was acknowledging that she was working at 10 on a Friday night, and also that she had no friends to ask to dinner.

“Never mind,” she quickly typed. “I’ll grab something on the way home.”

“Meet me at Mario’s on Dekalb.”

Amy turned off her computer and stuffed her papers and her notebook into her purse and was out in three minutes. She called a goodbye to Charles over her shoulder but if he replied, she didn’t catch it.

Jake was leaning against the brick wall outside the pizza place when Amy walked up, slightly out of breath. He stood up straight when he spotted her.

“Hey,” she said. “Thanks for meeting me. You probably have way better things to do on a Friday night than talk to an annoying reporter.”

He grinned. “Usually, yes. But Rosa and I spent all day on a missing dog case for one of the Vulture’s gross frat bro friends so I haven’t eaten since- actually I don’t remember when.”

Amy gaped at him and said, “Is the Vulture a person?”

“Oh yeah, he’s our captain. Pembroke,” Jake said. “He’s the worst.”

“And Rosa is-”

“My partner.”

“The one who thinks talking to me is a terrible idea,” Amy said.

“That’s her,” Jake said, still beaming. “Shall we?”

He led Amy inside the pizza spot and up to the counter, where he tried to convince her to get the all-meat pizza that somehow had five different kinds of sausage on it. Amy opted for veggie instead. They took their slices the couple blocks down to Fort Greene, where they climbed a play structure, cold and empty this late at night, and ate with their feet dangling over the side of the slide tower.

It was an unseasonably chilly night, and Amy zipped up her jacket. Jake, she noticed, was wearing a leather jacket over his hoodie now, and for some reason the contrast made her grin – like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to be cool and sexy or cozy and sweet.

“What’s so funny?” Jake said, when she ducked her head to hide her smile.

“Nothing.” Amy took a huge bite of pizza, and Jake watched in what could have been alarm or awe as she chewed – and kept chewing – and finally swallowed. “This is really good pizza.”

“That was kind of disgusting,” Jake said, “but also impressive.”

“Thank you.” Amy made a show of dabbing her lips daintily with a napkin and Jake laughed. “Did you really have a tip for me tonight, or were you just messing around?”

“Totally messing with you.”

“Thank god,” Amy said. “This story is killing me.”

She droned on for a bit then, filling him in on the reporting so far. Holt had just that day given her another two weeks to work on the story, which Amy desperately needed and was grateful for, but it also added even more pressure. When she told Jake she was compiling a list of penal codes she still needed to look up, he offered to go over it for her to save her some time. Amy hesitated, because she didn’t technically need his help for that kind of work. Eventually she told him she could handle it, and he shrugged and focused back on his pizza. She got the sense he was disappointed.

“Everyone’s been really supportive at work, at least,” Amy said. “I was worried that they’d all be mad at me, since the other reporters have to pick up my slack while I’m busy with this stuff. But even Gina’s been leaving me alone, mostly.”

“Linetti?” Jake said.

“Yeah. You read her column?”

“Sometimes.” Jake popped the last bite of crust in his mouth and balled up the wax paper the slice had come on, tossing it toward a trashcan at the edge of the play area. “We grew up together.”

Amy grinned as the paper neatly landed in the trash. Then she frowned and said, “Wait, what? You know Gina? Gina Linetti?”

“Oh yeah,” Jake said. “All the way back to kindergarten. I actually sublet her apartment now.”

“How is that even possible?”

“Subletting isn’t that weird,” Jake said.

“Shut up, loser,” Amy said, when Jake grinned at her. “How is it possible that you are friends with Gina and I had no idea?”

Jake shrugged dramatically. “I guess you’re just not that good of a reporter?”

“Jerk,” Amy said, but she actually couldn’t help but feel a little bit like an idiot.

Gina was nosy as hell, and she’d known for a long time that Amy had a source in the NYPD who was based in Brooklyn. That she hadn’t let it slip that an old friend of hers was a detective at the Nine-Nine seemed like a deliberate omission. There was no way Gina would have been able to resist not lording that kind of connection over Amy.

She was also a little annoyed that Jake hadn’t said anything, though she wasn’t going to let him know it.

“Hey,” Jake said, contrite. “I was kidding, obviously.”

“Right, I know.” Amy tried to sound casual.

“Look, I would have said something but it didn’t even occur to me.” Jake leaned back against the play structure and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Gina and I never talk about work – or my work, anyway. To be honest, I’m not sure she even remembers that I’m a cop.”

“That’s crazy,” Amy said, scooting back so she was sitting beside him.

Jake shot her a cynical look. “When she got her first reporting job, I told her that from now on everything I said about work was off the record. And she said, and I’m basically quoting here: ‘Fine, but you can’t talk about work anymore because it’s boring and I’m not going to be bored if I can’t even write about it.’ So I stopped talking about work. Like, ten years ago.”

Amy tried to process that but finally just shook her head. “Yeah, still crazy.”

“Well, that’s Gina.”

Amy didn’t get the sense that he was bothered by Gina’s lack of interest in his professional life – which was awful, because the line between personal and professional was incredibly blurred for most cops, to the point where it basically didn’t exist. In other words, if Jake was like almost every other cop she knew, his badge was his identity. It was everything.

But she supposed that indifference-bordering-on-negligence was a known hazard of a friendship with Gina. And Amy didn’t want to feel sorry for Jake.

Still, Amy wasn’t Gina – and she wasn’t bored.

“So, a missing dog case?” Amy said. “Really?”

“Oh yeah, it was such a waste of time. The Vulture’s always trying to give me and Rosa worthless cases but this one might have been the dumbest. The dog looked like a rat, Amy!”

Amy laughed, and Jake laughed with her, and then he launched into the Case of the Rat-Dog – capitalization noted – which had a surprising number of twists and turns, including a foray into a gelato shop that was really a mob front, and ended with the dog having simply run away to live with a better family than the Vulture’s frat-bro friend. Amy was in tears by the end and actually whooped in celebration when the dog found his forever-home.

“I can’t believe you spent your entire day tracking down a happy dog,” Amy said, wiping tears from her eyes. She was sitting cross-legged on the play structure, huddled into her jacket.

“I guess they can’t all be super cool undercover assignments,” Jake said with a sigh.

“You’ve gone undercover?”

“Sure, all the time. Once I spent six months with the mafia. But that story will wait for another night,” he said, and stood up, hissing and shaking his right leg as he got to his feet.

“Leg fell asleep?”

“Yeah,” Jake said. He pulled out his phone and his eyebrows shot up. “Which is what happens when you sit on a playground for two hours. Good lord.”

“We’ve been here that long?” Amy pulled out her own phone to check.

Jake nodded and held out a hand to her, and she took it and let him haul her to her feet. His hand was warm from his pocket and the touch sent a spark up her arm, making her shiver in a way she wasn’t sure was from the cold. He didn’t let go right away, and when Amy turned toward the stairs to climb down from the play structure, he tugged her in the opposite direction.

“You know we gots to slide,” he said, jerking his head that way.

“Jake, we’re too big-”

But Jake was pulling her in front of him, and he manhandled her onto the top of the slide and said, “Ladies first!” and gave her a shove. Amy screamed as she slipped down, surprised by how fast she was moving. She hit the lip at the bottom and toppled off, just barely managing to stay on her feet.

A second later Jake yelled, “Yippee ki yay, mother fucker!” He raced down, and when he hit the bottom he flew right off and slammed into Amy, knocking them both back into the sand.

Amy grunted as she landed hard on her back, surprised more than hurt. She felt Jake on top of her, and looked up to find his face inches from hers. She stared into his wide eyes, her heart pounding, and then he rolled off and scrambled to his knees at her side.

“Oh my god, are you okay? I had no idea that was going to happen, usually the kids’ slides aren’t that fast.” Jake’s hands hovered over her, like he thought he should be checking her for injuries but wasn’t sure if he should touch her. “Oh god, you’re hurt, aren’t you. Should I call someone? I should call 911. No, I can take you there myself. Can you walk? I can carry you to my car, I’m only a couple blocks from here-”

Amy bit the inside of her cheek. “Jake-”

“No, don’t talk-”

“I’m fine,” Amy managed before she broke down, laughing so hard she was practically wheezing.

Jake went quiet, and Amy sat up and tried to say something encouraging but just ended up collapsing into more laughter.

“I hate you,” Jake said, obviously fighting a smile. “Sincerely.”

“If you have a car,” Amy said, breathless, “could you give me a lift home? Or would you rather carry me?”

Jake smirked at her, then stood and brushed the sand off his legs before offering her a hand again.

+++

Late night dinners became a regular thing.

Jake got the feeling that Amy had reservations about how much time they were spending together, though she never said anything directly. She came armed every time with a question or request for him: a penal code she didn’t understand, his thoughts on something another source had told her, where she might track down some key piece of information she was missing. He helped when he could, but they inevitably ended up chatting about personal stuff after a few minutes.

He didn’t mind. They were both surprised to learn how similar their jobs could be, once they looked beyond who carried a gun and had the power to arrest people, and who actually knew how to use a semicolon and had the power, in theory, to take down the president of the United States.

They both regularly got phone calls from people who swore that airplane contrails were really secret government vaccination programs. They both had at least old person who sent them literal letters – like in envelopes, with stamps and everything – offering unsolicited advice on their jobs. Amy had an old woman who called her once a week to correct her grammar (“It’s not my fault! The copy desk is supposed to catch that stuff!”) and Jake had an old man who called every Tuesday to complain about the trash cans blocking his driveway after the garbage trucks came through (“I don’t know why he doesn’t call sanitation. Am I supposed to arrest the garbage man? Or woman?”). And, it turned out, both of them always answered those calls and listened and agreed that yes, their grandchildren should call more often.

“She just seems kind of lonely,” Amy said one night, as they shared a basket of deep-fried pickles at a bar all the way out in Bushwick. They tried to avoid the neighborhoods around the newsroom and the precinct and either of their homes, and though Amy didn’t always love the commutes, she had to admit it was kind of nice to shake up her routine.

“Yeah, Fred too,” Jake said. “Sometimes I wonder if he isn’t putting his own trash cans in the driveway just so he has an excuse to call me.”

They also shared somewhat pathetic dating lives. When Jake asked one night if she had a boyfriend, Amy shook her head and said she was determined to focus on her job for the moment. “I get it,” Jake said. “The NYPD doesn’t play very well in most relationships.”

They texted every day, and met up two or three times a week. Every now and then one of them would turn down the other’s invitation – they did have friends, or he at least assumed Amy did – but they usually made up for it in a day or two.

Only once did Jake hesitate with his reply, when Amy texted him late one Thursday afternoon. He’d had a rough day and he wasn’t sure if he could be his usual charming, and admittedly silly, self. After an hour, though, he texted back a thumbs up.

Amy had picked some weird sausage-based restaurant for this meeting, and Jake was relieved he didn’t have much of an appetite. He smiled when he saw her and gamely ordered a beer.

“You have to at least split a sausage platter with me,” Amy said. “My coworker swore this place is amazing but he has very questionable taste and I am not going into this alone.”

“Yeah, a friend of mine actually recommended this to me once but I couldn’t go through with it,” Jake said.

Amy ordered the platter and while they waited for the food she filled him in on the progress she’d made on the detention center story. Jake listened and nodded along, quietly drinking his beer. When he ordered a second pint, Amy looked him in the eye and said, “What’s up, Jake?”

He frowned and thought about saying nothing, nothing was up, but he didn’t really feel like lying. Instead he just shrugged, which felt passive-aggressive and pathetic but he wasn’t sure what else to do.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything,” Amy said, voice dropping as she leaned forward. “But you’ve obviously got something on your mind, and if you want to talk, you can.”

Jake was dismayed to feel the prickle of tears in his eyes, not from any particular grief or sadness but from the gentle tone of her voice, from the kindness she was showing him. He took a deep breath and turned away from her, willing himself not to cry. The waiter arrived then, setting a truly horrifying pile of sausage between them, and Jake couldn’t help but laugh. He blinked a few times, and his eyes were dry as he faced Amy again.

She answered his grin with a small smile of her own that didn’t reach her eyes. But as she picked up a fork and stabbed at one of the sausages – the look on her face could only be described as equal parts terrified, disgusted, and stubborn – Jake blew out a breath and decided to go for it.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he said, opening his napkin and spreading it carefully over his lap just to have something to do with his hands. “One of my CIs died today.”

“That’s awful, Jake.” Amy dropped the fork, the sausage landing halfway on her plate and the table. “I’m so sorry.”

Jake shrugged, feeling a little like an asshole for coming across so callous, but he really didn’t do well with emotions. “He hadn’t been an informant for all that long, like three months maybe.”

“Still, you get to know them and rely on them,” Amy said. “They’re like your sources. Oh my god, I’d be devastated if something happened to you.”

Jake looked up at her and stared, feeling a little gut-punched.

“It’s not like that,” Jake said, softy.

“Not like what?”

Jake held her gaze, trying to ignore the tension that seemed suddenly strung between them, like a physical thing. He could feel his breathing coming too fast, could feel the slow flip of his stomach.

“Not like us,” he said.

He quickly looked down at his plate, coughed and cleared his throat.

“I mean, informants have a pretty short life expectancy as it is,” he said, trying to shift the subject. “They’re usually criminals, more often than not they’re talking to the cops just to keep themselves out of trouble or get a competitor off the street.”

“Right, of course,” Amy said. He glanced back up to see she was focused on her sausage again, cutting it up into bite-sized pieces but not actually eating. “Still, I’m sorry. Do you know what happened to him?”

“You mean, did he get nailed for snitching?” Jake said. Amy snapped her head up in alarm, already protesting, but Jake held up a hand and smiled faintly. “It’s okay, it’s the first question we ask. In this case, no, I don’t think so. He was found dead of an overdose.”

“Oh, that’s- good?” Amy said, flustered.

“Better than being shot, but that’s also an occupational hazard,” Jake said. He realized he felt hungry, for the first time since learning about his CI that morning, so he stabbed a sausage too. “One interesting thing, it looks like he OD’d on that new drug, Jazzy Pants.”

“Whoa, wait, new drug?” Amy said. “What’s this?” She was already digging into her purse, presumably for her notebook and pen.

Jake laughed and waved her off. “I swear, I don’t know anything else about it. The Vulture won’t let us investigate it because the Seven-Eight has a task force.”

“The 78th,” Amy muttered to herself as she wrote it down.

“Um, one more thing,” Jake said. Amy put away her notebook and looked back at him expectantly. “You won’t write about any of this, right? Like the CI, or, whatever?”

“Of course not.” Amy looked truly surprised. “Jake, this was personal. I would never do that to you.”

Jake let out his breath and nodded once. “I know. I know you wouldn’t. I just-”

“I get it,” Amy said. “Reporters have a certain reputation. But we’re not all vultures.”

Jake actually laughed at that. “Trust me, I know you aren’t a vulture.”

Amy rolled her eyes at him, but she also gave him a fond smile. They were both quiet for a while, a comfortable silence falling between them as they finally got to work on the sausages.

Jake realized after a few minutes that – despite the sausage already heavy in his stomach and the emotionally charged conversation they’d just endured – there was a lightness in his chest and his head that he couldn’t identify. It wasn’t quite happiness or relief, but something close to peace. He looked across the sausage mountain at Amy, and he smiled.

CHAPTER 6

[fusion-ego]

So... 2019, huh?

((LONG post ahead!))

This year has really been something, hasn’t it? I had to quit my second job ever because of my back problems (along with other shit lol), I hardly wrote anything all year, and I started in on my Bachelor’s degree. I moved 1600 miles cross-country to Arizona and I’ve been down here for six months now! I had to leave my Markiplier Nudes Calendar™ back in Illinois because I forgot to take it off my wall before I left and it probably got thrown away by the landlord :c, I let my parents borrow a credit card for the move down here and went into debt as a result of almost single-handedly financing the move, had several breakdowns, and despite my best attempts I haven’t been able to get a job yet, but I’m still trying!

A lot of things happened this year.

I turned 20.

I started liking myself again after years of literally hating myself and that quickly advanced to me loving myself again. Turns out I’m pretty cool, even if I am annoying as fuck.

Turns out that having primarily depressive episodes and not having the motivation or desire to take care of myself doesn’t make me any less of a person. It doesn’t make my struggles invalid just because I’m the one not taking care of myself. It turns out, taking care of yourself is fucking hard sometimes, especially if the combined symptoms of your mental and physical ailments put you in a position where everything feels like too much.

It also turns out that taking care of yourself is difficult when you’ve spent your entire life (or at least the parts where you actually had friends) putting all of the wants and needs of your friends and loved ones above your own.

Taking care of yourself is hard when you were raised to be The Strong One, who doesn’t break down and who doesn’t have any issues, thanks. The one who, sure, they haven’t showered in a week and they feel like crap because they haven’t eaten, but you don’t need to know that! You just go eat and take a shower, hun, The Strong One is okay.

It took until this year for me to learn that being The Strong One didn’t mean I couldn’t break down sometimes. It didn’t mean I couldn’t take time for myself and that I had to be available all the time for my friends. Setting boundaries has been a learning experience for me and everyone else in my friend group, I think. I think I’ve cried more this year than I have since I was a kid, and you know what that is? Growth.

And honestly, I’ve really gotta thank my lovely fiance @goreyglitches for some of that. I am petrified of crying when anyone can see or hear me. I was raised to be The Strong One and The Strong One doesn’t cry. I conditioned myself to not be a “crybaby” and to never, ever, ever cry. And I know that’s bad - repressing negative emotions just makes it worse in the long-run. I figured that out with anger and tried to fix it long before I tried to fix the crying issue, and this year? This year Tobi’s helped a lot. I trust him, and I feel safe with him, so when he shuts the door and pulls the covers over us and holds me and tells me it’s okay to cry, I cry. And I am so grateful to him for that I don’t think I even have words.

And @ashencreations has been a wonderful friend this year, as always, even if both of us have been having issues this year. They’ve, I think, been one of the people I vented to the absolute most and they’ve been a real peach about it and even if I don’t have a whole lot of energy to talk sometimes (most of the time) they still love me and are accommodating of my issues. That’s pretty cool! I know a lot of people who can’t talk to people they’ve dated in the past and I have to admit I wouldn’t have been surprised if we fell out this year, but here we are - finishing another year as best friends. They let me have my space and they check in to make sure I’ve eaten and slept and showered. And I try to do the same but my check-ins have been a little lackluster this year while I find my boundaries so oops for that. I’ll try harder next year!

And really, I have to thank everyone who’s stuck with me through this year. My friends and my followers and even just folks who know me because I’m mutuals with someone they’re friends with - all of you. I know this year has sucked and I’ve been really annoying and I’m constantly asking for money, so thank you for sticking around. I’m trying to get back into the old swing of things and I’ve put in about a billion applications and I’m in University, can you believe that? You guys being patient even when I’m annoying has been really helpful. This is especially true of the folks in Lexi’s server who have to see me venting all the time. Y’all are darlings and I’m sorry I keep dragging my shit in there lmao I’ll try not to so much next year.

I’m especially thankful, though, I think, of the people who are still with me after so many years of knowing me. Like Ran and Ness and Zare and Comedy and even Em, even if we don’t talk. I mean, Em probably the most - she knew me when I was such a shithead that it’s kinda laughable now and yet she’s willing to be mutuals with me now. That’s pretty funny. (Hey, Em, guess who’s still trying to figure out how to write that TMNT thing and make it as interesting as the original idea was?) And of course I’ve known Comedy since elementary school but we didn’t really get close until high school and then I dropped off the face of the earth for like a year lol but she’s been a peach the whole time I’ve known her. And Ran’s been around for a while, we’ve known each other long enough that he probably still remembers when I went by Al. And Ness, who doesn’t have tumblr to my knowledge, well I’ve known her since diapers and she’s going to be the Maid of Honor at mine and Tobi’s wedding when we have the money to do a real ceremony - I would have filled that place at her wedding, too, if her sister-in-law wasn’t a needy bitch who had to have that position or she’d pitch a fit and ruin the entire wedding. And like, don’t even get me started on Zare, who was there when I was the worst shithead I’ve ever been and somehow still likes me even all these years later. I introduced myself to this man as Prussia, y’all. I introduced myself to him as a fallen kingdom because it was easier to pronounce than my legal name.

(It may have also been because I was into Hetalia and projected onto the character really hard because of all the “I’m awesome!” and thought it would help me be more confident, and also perhaps because my legal name being mispronounced led to a lot of people knowing me as a different fallen kingdom so it was a haha funny joak to me)

Also, this year, a certain vine-man turned youtube-man made a video that really, really spoke to me. Thomas introducing Remus and having an entire episode about intrusive thoughts and ‘bad’ creativity was - it meant a lot to me. Because since 2018, when I started writing Ego stuff, I haven’t... Well, I used to write a lot of dark stuff, y’all. I wrote violent shit because I wanted to and it was kinda just my Thing™. But after I started writing Ego stuff I started feeling like that was problematic, like it was a bad thing that I wanted to write nasty stuff like that. No one did anything to make me think that! It was just that, well, that kind of violence just... Seemed out of place. I’ve been in the process of writing a 146K+ word, 43 chapter fic containing ritualistic cannibalism, murder, unsafe sex, and various other nasty things since 2017 and I spent a terrifying amount of time feeling... Bad for that last year and this year. I’ve had to re-learn that it’s okay to write nasty stuff (no matter the moral issues other people take with it) because exploring not-so-great things in fic, especially to cope, is one of the many points of writing fic. And I’ll be honest, my dumpster fire fic was something I was writing to get through my associate’s degree because it was a new and terrifying experience and the prominent theme of running away was a feeling I was dealing with in tandem at the time. Remus’ introduction reminded me that dealing with intrusive thoughts and exploring the ‘bad’ creativity doesn’t make me a bad person, it just means I have nasty ideas and even the best people can have those. At least I can turn them into something I’m proud of writing.

So, going forward, I’m not going to shy away from writing my nasty stuff, and in 2020 I’m going to try and finish Trial and Error. I haven’t updated it since August, 2018, guys, it needs a new chapter.

And on that note, I don’t usually make New Years’ Resolutions. I never saw the point in the past and it wasn’t something super encouraged by anyone around me, so it never seemed important. But I’m making a resolution this year.

Over the years and years of writing, I’ve encountered something I think every writer encounters - I stopped writing. Now, I’m not saying I don’t write. Obviously I do, and have been, for a long time. I’m saying I don’t write like I used to. In 2013/2014 I wrote a 36-chapter Sly Cooper fic featuring an OC that still gets hits to this day, and I wrote it over the course of three months. I started it in November 2013 and it was done and put aside by the third of January 2014. It’s still one of my favorites! But the chapters are short, the storyline needs work, I didn’t spellcheck anything or even remotely try to keep my timeline completely straight. It was the first multi-chapter story exceeding 10 chapters that I ever finished. I wrote a chapter a day, as long as I was capable of doing so, I posted it, and I never looked back. It’s not a great story, but it’s one of my favorites. I loved it then and I love it now. And that’s something I don’t do anymore! When a fic doesn’t live up to my expectations, I don’t love it like I love that old fic, which did not at all live up to my expectations. My perfectionism has developed over the years and it has killed my creativity. I can still make cool stuff, can still make things I like, but it’s not the same anymore.

So my resolution is, in 2020, I’m going to write.

I’m going to write like I used to, but I’m going to put all of my experience into it.

I started writing in 2008 or 2009, maybe even before that - if I can recapture the love I had for it then, then I will be in great shape. I didn’t spellcheck back then and frankly I kinda sucked at writing even in 2013/2014, but if I can love writing like I did then and put all of what I’ve learned into it? Holy shit. I mean, I’ve been rewriting that old Sly Cooper fic for the past couple weeks, so it’s not exactly a mystery how much better things will turn out if I pour my much better spelling and grammar, my better ideas, my better commitment, into my fics going forward. All I need to make them great is to love doing it.

So in 2020, I’m going to write.

2019 has been a wild ride, and I’ve written less than half of what I wrote in 2018, not even counting all of my Ego requests for either year. I’ve spent the last three days in a mad dash to reach 100K written this year on AO3 by writing 30K before midnight tonight. I have 5K left! But even breaching 100K I won’t be halfway there. In 2018 I wrote 225.6K on AO3, not counting Ego stuff. And I think that’s because I haven’t loved doing it like I used to - the fact that I’ve loved the fic I started in order to make my “30K by tonight” goal and I haven’t let myself have enough time to agonize over whether it’s “good” or not has a lot of effect on how much I’ve written. My wordcount per hour has, like, doubled because I actually wanted to work. So I’ll reach my goal by tonight and still have time to celebrate at midnight.

So, again, thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me through this crazy year. Things haven’t been great, I’ll be honest, but I’m hoping next year will be better. They’re already off to a good start - my dad and I have a plan for him to start paying me back for how much money we spent moving here, and if I can get a job it’ll only get easier and it’ll only get better. And on top of that me and Tobi have plans to legalize our Marriage™ in September. It won’t be anything big - we’re waiting to have a real ceremony until we have the money to make sure Zare and Ness and Ran can come. But if all goes well, on 9/20/20 we’ll have the legal shit sorted out and Tobi will officially be my husband so that’s just another thing to be looking forward to.

Happy New Year, y’all! Hope you all have a good one. I speak a good 2020 into existence and I won’t stop until I get it.

[wakandaforalittlebit]

“Okay”

Reader Insert (gender is non-specified)

Summary: The Snap didn’t only affect earth’s mightiest heroes

A/N: So, this was something I wrote a while back on archive, but I thought I’d post it here as well to hopefully reach a larger audience.  If you want to read the continuation of this, I’ll leave a link at the end.  Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

"(y/n), I'm scared..."

"Shh... I know.  We're gonna be okay, just don't worry."

You sat on the sofa in the den, your little brother clinging to you as you watched TV.  You longed to watch anything that could distract him, but the news channels had been broadcasting all day on every channel, and you knew that not letting him watch anything would just stress him out more.

"The Avengers are gonna stop them, right?"

"Of course, Dustin, they always do."  You tried to say it in the most reassuring way possible, but even you could hear the doubt laced into the sentence.

No one knew quite what was going on.  The news had first come on this morning during Dustin's favorite show "Thor and Friends."  That alone was enough to make him start crying.  It didn't help when reports started flooding in that aliens had shown up in New York, and that Tony Stark, along with a few other vigilantes, had gone missing.  You weren't quite old enough to remember the first time aliens invaded New York in full detail, but you knew that it definitely wasn't good.  All schools in the United States closed before the first few students could walk in the door, and your parents both ran out to stock up on supplies in case this turned into something huge, which left you at home watching your brothers: Dustin, who was nearly suffocating you at this point, and Turner, who was sleeping peacefully in his crib.

"This just in, we're getting reports that the aliens have appeared in Wakanda.  We can't get any clear visuals as they're still a rather closed off country, but whatever is going on there, it's big."

"No!"  Dustin ran up to the TV to get a closer look at the tiny picture they had of Wakanda on the screen.  From what you could see, it just looked like a blue bubble.  "They're gonna hurt Black Panther!"

"Black Panther?  I don't think I know that one.  Tell me about him."

"YOU DON'T KNOW BLACK PANTHER???"

His outraged tone made you smile.  Of course you knew who Black Panther was, but Dustin loved talking, and more than talking, he loved explaining things.  You saw this as an opportunity to take his mind off of the chaos, if only momentarily.  You let him go on, telling you about every single hero (or villain) he knew, which was surprisingly a lot considering he was only six.

"The shields have gone down, I repeat, the shields have gone down.  We're trying to get better visuals now, but we can confirm that among the fighting are Captain America and the King of Wakanda himself," The news anchor announced.

"I wish Thor was there," Dustin said bitterly.  "He could take those aliens down in like, three-and-a-quarter seconds."  You smiled.  Thor was hands down his favorite avenger.

"What's this?  We're having some disturbances in the skies...  Ladies and gentlemen, Thor is on the battlefield!  Along with some back up that appears to be a raccoon and... a tree?"

"THOR!!!!" Dustin screamed.  He seemed completely unphased by the second half of that report.

The battle continued on, and because Thor was involved now, there was no point in trying to distract your brother anymore.  Unfortunately, when one brother isn't seeking attention, the other is.  Dustin's triumphant scream upon Thor's arrival woke up Turner, who was now crying.  You made your way into the other room to comfort him.

"Shhhhh... I know, I know, Mom is much better at this but you gotta bear with me until she gets back, okay?"  You bounced your brother in your arms in an attempt to replicate your mother.  It didn't work.  "Hey, shhhh, you're okay.  You're calm.  You're happy.  Okay?"  Somehow, that worked.  You weren't sure why, but that always worked on Dustin when all else failed, and apparently it worked on Turner too.  Good to know.

"(y/n)?" Dustin called from the den.  He sounded scared, concerned even.  You put Turner back in his crib as delicately as possible, and hurried back into the den.  "I don't know that one."

He pointed at the screen, his hand trembling.  You looked where he was pointing.  The footage was blurry, and not terribly close, so it was hard to make out what was going on, but there seemed to be a man, clearly not human, who was... what was he doing?  It looked like he was ripping something out of someone else's (who also did not look human) head.  A girl (who you're pretty sure is called Scarlet Witch) was on the ground nearby, screaming and crying.

"Dustin, maybe it's time to stop watching this."

He didn't need to be told twice.  He buried his face into your shirt, his back turned on the TV screen.  You were almost jealous of him, because you couldn't manage to make yourself look away.  You watched every brutal second of it even though it disgusted you.  You let out a sigh of relief when you saw what was unmistakably Thor delivering a fatal blow to the purple man.

"Is it over?" Dustin's feeble voice asked through the fabric of your shirt.

"Yeah, it's over.  You were right, Thor saved the day."

Dustin smiled up at you, sniffling, and wiped his nose on your shirt.  You normally would've been disgusted at this, but you let it go under the circumstances.  "Oops," he said, realizing what he'd just done.  "I'm sorry..." Tears started welling in his eyes again.

"Don't worry about it, it's okay."  You paused for a second to hug him.  "We're okay."

Just then, the footage on the news went to static.  "I'm sorry folks, but it appears we've just lost our cameras..." the screen switched back to the anchor.  She looked startled.  "We're not sure what the problem is but we're trying to identify..."  Her gaze wandered past the camera. "Oh my god, Greg?"  She stood up and rushed off screen, leaving the news set empty.  You could hear screams, but not screams of fear; they were anguished, confused, and completely broken.

"(y/n), what's happening?"  You could hear the fear rising in his voice again.  You forced his wandering eyes away from the TV to look at you.

"Dustin, listen to me."  The water works were staring again, and it took every inch of strength you had to not start crying as well. "You're calm, you're happy, you're okay".  He was absolutely sobbing now.  If you were upset that he got snot on your shirt before, well, let's just say this didn't make it any better.  You kept on repeating that phrase, shutting your eyes so you could focus on nothing but it, because if it worked for them it could work for you too.  You felt his grip on you loosen, and his sobs started to quiet.  "We're okay, Dustin, we're okay."

You opened your eyes, expecting to bend down and wipe his tears away, except there were no tears.  In fact, there was no Dustin anymore, only ashes at your feet where he had been standing.  "What the hell..." you whispered under your breath.  "Dustin?  Dustin this isn't funny!" You wanted so badly for this to be a joke, but you knew that wasn't possible. You couldn't keep a brave face, not anymore.  You dropped down on the ground in utter disbelief.  You didn't know what to do.  You ran to grab your phone, thinking of your parents, tears streaming down your face now.

"Come on, pick up, pick up!" you screamed into the phone-- but the only answer you got after your fourth try was a small cry coming from the next room.  Turner.  You practically dropped your phone and ran into the nursery.  He was okay.  Sure he was crying, but he was okay.  You smiled, despite the whirlpool of despair you were feeling, and picked him up.  You didn't make any attempt to shush him this time; you needed to hear him, to know he was still there.  For a while, you just stood there, crying together, because you just couldn't make yourself put him down.

"It's alright," you whispered.  "We're okay."

You put him back in his crib, and he peacefully fell asleep, blissfully unaware that the world around him was falling apart.

Thanks for reading!  If you want to read more, click the link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741567/chapters/34080407

[arcticdementor]

The Christian Century is a magazine for the senescent liberal Protestant Mainline. When I heard earlier this month that it had published an article exposing the presence of white supremacists at farmer’s markets [UPDATE: Sorry, I forgot to post the link to the piece.— RD], I laughed it off as another example of the dingbat left policing the boundaries. It should not surprise anyone that unsavory people enjoy a delicious tomato as well as the next person. If a Communist or a neo-Nazi enjoys locally grown fruits and vegetables, I can congratulate him on his good taste in food while rejecting his politics. This is called being a grown-up. When this controversy arose in 2019 in Bloomington, Indiana, the adult mayor of that city resisted calls by progressives to kick allegedly white supremacist farmers out of the farmer’s market, saying that as long as the accused vendors were following the law, he was not going to play the role of thought police.

It turns out, though, that the article’s author, a vigilant progressive named Rebecca Bratten Weiss, identifies poor old Self as a gateway drug to the Ku Klux Kale:

…

“Polite Christian ethno-nationalism”? Golly. I wonder how the neurotic Bratten Weiss figures that. Then again, there doesn’t have to be logic for these people to make a vicious accusation like that. If they feel it — and they are always sniffing out wrongthinkers — it must be true. Do I even need to point out here that she clearly hasn’t read The Benedict Option?

Judging by her self-description on her website, Bratten Weiss has a rich inner life:

She has spoken at various academic and cultural events on topics ranging from Nietzsche’s aesthetics and Bronte’s feminism, to ecology in literature and vulgarity in religion.

Rebecca recently completed work on The Dirt, an eco-feminist novel exploring the impact of the fracking industry on a dysfunctional Ohio family.

She is also in the process of revising The Peacemakers, a speculative literary sci-fi in which women in a near-future matriarchy control men via advanced AI technology.

She is a member of the George Sandinistas, and one of the founders of the Muse Writers Collective.

…

I had never heard of this unhappy woman until a friend sent me her Christian Century essay last night. Apparently she is a Catholic who has a Patheos blog in which she writes things like this:

How surprising to learn that she used to be an adjunct teacher of English at Franciscan University of Steubenville. And she is some kind of ecumenist, as we learn from this 2019 essay. Excerpts:

Driving home with a load of hay, listening to Johnny Cash, wondering what I could burn as a sacrifice to Hecate, I start thinking that probably not many women on this road, driving truckloads of hay, and listening to Cash, are also contemplating witchcraft. Does this make me necessarily more interesting? Or is it automatically less interesting, because “being interesting” is a motive force for me? Not the only motive force, but maybe it taints everything it touches, so there’s a certain embarrassingly meta quality about all my love, or curiosity, or revenge.

Meta or not, the desire to burn something as a sacrificial offering is real. Thinking about burning is real. I have a truck full of a combustible material, and my truck is driven by combustion. I’m rumbling along on the cusp of a flame.

Bless her heart, I do not doubt it! More:

The internal combustion engine is insufficient for the goddess, however, and I have no intention of burning the hay. The questions about burnt offerings become pragmatic. Like, where to do it? If I start a fire in the back yard the kids will all come gathering around, asking if they can roast marshmallows. But I can’t just go wandering off into the neighbor’s field and start burning things (or can I?).

Then there’s the question of what to burn. Something I value, or something I hate? Which would Hecate prefer?

If I get the answers wrong, who knows, some solid citizen might call and have them send the firetrucks after me, and then it’s pretty awkward if I’d opted to burn, say, the testicles of some Nazi dudes who just happened to be scampering across my backyard at the right time. When I just happened to have my scythe handy. Oops. Now I have this whole conflagration of testicles to explain.

Even if it’s what Hecate wants, the fact is, when you’re castrating Nazis and burning their balls as an offering to ancient Greek goddesses, people tend not to be very understanding. They’re all “oh, the incivility!” Or “this is why Trump keeps winning.”

Now I’m worried that I went too far there, talking about castrating Nazis. Now I’m worried that I’m not interesting or edgy, but instead the kind of person from whom you instinctively back away.

…

Anyway, as is often the case with censorious progressives, the witchy Bratten Weiss misses the irony of her condemning right-wing farmer’s market types for their exclusivity, in an essay in which she appears to claim that farmer’s markets should be zealously defended as a safe space for progressives and fellow travelers. Down with fascist eggplant! In fact, she hates localism itself, if localists are anything other than progressives:

…

Uh oh! People like Bratten Weiss ruin everything. When I wrote Crunchy Cons back in the mid-2000s, I was delighted to draw attention to people like the fundamentalist Christian family in north Texas who raised meat organically because they believed that was the best way to honor God’s Creation. There’s a quote in the book from the patriarch who says how surprised he was to discover that he had more in common with some hippie organic growers than he did with fellow Christian Republicans who lived a more conventional suburban life. Funny, but these folks weren’t threatened by the progressives who shared their love of organic, small-scale agriculture, and neither were the progressive small farmers threatened by them. They found common ground, and even solidarity. I guess Bratten Weiss, who is two tics away from a gran mal seizure, would want to cut the balls off the fundamentalist family’s sons and sacrifice them to a pagan goddess or something.

Bratten Weiss may be a Catholic, but she is definitely a Puritan. I was recently talking with a wealthy conservative white Catholic friend from the South who was explaining to me his discovery of the value of localism. He and his wife bought some land in the historically black part of their town, and are using it to help their black neighbors build community. They let black folks and others use the land for a farmer’s market, and for meetings between black community leaders and the local police, to build closer relationships (he showed me a photo on his smartphone of a recent gathering). He told me that even as relations between the black community and police in other parts of the country have grown worse, they have strengthened in his town, because it turns out that a lot of black people there don’t hate the police; they just want better policing. He talked about a woman black pastor in his town who makes this work of community-building possible. And he talked about long-term plans to restore what was once a thriving commercial sector of black-owned businesses.

My friend said that he has grown disillusioned with national politics, and now focuses on building up localism. This guy is very conservative. I’m guessing that his black woman pastor friend is … not. But they work together because they both want to make the town they share into a better place for them all to live. If Bratten Weiss showed up in their town, she would no doubt do her best to drive these two apart to purify the movement. People like that — and we have them on the Right too — are so exhausting. They are the kind of people from whom you instinctively back away. Unfortunately, they hold a lot of cultural and institutional power right now in America. Which is a big reason that we are in such a mess.

[ask-the-phan-site]

Phan Cam: Open Mike Nite

WARNING: This may not post in time as this is suppose to take place on the last week of August.

Hiya, folks! Welcome to Day 2 of Dream FES: Open Mike Nite! This year’s Open Mike promises to be spectacular... And a bit short. First up, we have some lovely ladies who are about to prove just how strong they can be.

It’s just something a friend of ours wrote for us sometime ago. I know most people wouldn’t think she could do it, but she has more heart than any of us.

Yeah. If it hadn’t been for her, there are somethings we wouldn’t be able to do.

MC: She sounds like a great person. Does she have a name?

If you please, she wishes to remain anonymous. For certain reasons.

MC: So she’s shy? Okay, I won’t pry into it. Don’t want you Women of Power to beat me to a pulp.

>The audience laughs.

Oh well. I guess they wouldn’t believe an AI could be capable of writing a song.

I’m sure you’ll be getting credit someday. Just be patient.

MC: After that, we have Ryuji Sakamoto and his boy friends. So, this is the famous Skul5 I’ve heard about?

I wish. But I already have other guys in mind. My friends are just fillin’ in. We don’t even have a fifth member. But I ain’t givin’ up.

MC: I see. Hope you succeed.

Though I’m hopin’ Renren would consider joinin’ for real.

Sorry. But I think if I joined, Skul5 wouldn’t make sense since you’re suppose to be the leader. Besides, I still like to try other things.

As do I. Though, I’d like to try my hand at being an idol myself. But I think I have enough admirers to last me a long time.

>The audience laugh.

MC: A little too late for that, Akechi san. Although, one of your friends here might be showing what you mean.

(trying to back away from some girls trying to get on stage) No doubt.

MC: Sorry, ladies, but you have to keep off stage. Partly for health reasons. You don’t want to give our performers the coronavirus... Okay, bad joke. But seriously, stay off the stage. You should control yourselves.

Besides, he’s taken.

Indeed. My heart is already yours, Ren.

You heard ‘em: Access to Inari: Denied.

>All the girls whined in disappointment.

Don’t be sad. I’m sure, if Yusuke would agree to it, you can commission signed paintings. Is that okay?

Fox: I’ll see what I can do.

MC: Looks like you dodged a bullet there. And after the Substitute Skul5 performs, we have a special treat for all of you. A performance by one of the world’s newest superhero teams, the Future Avengers!

I don’t know how I got talked into this. I know I sang that song, but this is embarrassing.

Hey, this is Bruno’s idea. Any complaints you have now, direct them to him.

I just thought about doing this. I just wanted to see what it was like to be up here like this.

MC: So you signed in on a whim? (laughs a bit) Oh, man, I hope you know what you’re doing.

Bruno: I’ve watched enough of these concerts and previous Dream Festivals to know what to do. So I think we should be fine.

It also helps that Ryuji and KUROFUNE have been coaching us for this. We owe them thanks.

Skull: (a bit proud) You bet. We’ve done a lot.

We’ve also had help from a friend of ours online.

MC: Really? Who?

Kei: (nervous smile) You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

MC: Try us.

Kei: ...

??????: Is this proof enough?

MC: Wow! I didn’t know you could throw your voice. Is that another power besides summoning kaiju?

Kei: No.

??????: I’m right here. Or, did you forget about us.

MC: (shocked) Oops! My bad. I forgot to introduce our co-hosts who will be joining us via video phone. First up, all the way in Paris, France, teen model and heart-throb, Adrien Agreste!

NOTE: I’d like to apologize in advanced for the following image.

Konnichi wa. I hope you all have a great show for us.

MC: By the way, Adrien san... Is that a sock floating over there?

Adrien: ... My cousin’s a great magician. I thought I’d try a trick of my own... Now watch me make the sock disappear.

>With that, the sock floats away off screen.

MC: Amazing! A model and a magician? Is there anything you can’t do, Adrien san?

Adrien: Well, the only thing I can’t do right now is actually go to Japan to enjoy Dream FES. Me and some of my friends were really looking forward to it. Especially if it were to take place at the Summer Olympics.

Skull: We actually didn’t think we were gonna have it this year because of the Summer Olympics. But D-Four said that we coulda still have performed there.

Adrien: And we all hope you will.

Skull: We will... If I could properly get Skul5 together.

Adrien: I’ll look forward to it. Me and my friends.

Thanks. We’ll look forward to it, too.

MC: Though distance separates them, their friendship holds them close. If this were the Love Meets Bonds Festival, this would be an even bigger tear jerker. Now, all the way from America, a rocker who who’s rocked New York even more than the virus or an alien invasion, sensation Ross Caliban!

What’s up, Tokyo! This is Dream FES!

>The crowd cheered.

Ross Caliban: Alright. I just I wasn’t trapped at home and have to watch this on screen. But no matter the distance, nothing can stop the beat. I bet even Spider-Man would agree.

Crow: I’m sure he will.

MC: Next, who decided to show up here in person, famed enka singer, Misuzu Hiiragi!

Thank you all for having me here.

MC: Now, Misuzu san, I know it’s going to sound like I’m prying, but I just herd you just got remarried. I guess that mean you and Taro Namatame really are through.

Misuzu Hiiragi: Pretty much. Though to be honest, even before the affair, Taro and I were pretty much drifting apart what with our jobs. But, we worked it out in the end and now we’re still good friends. He even introduced me to the man who is now my husband... Unofficially, of course. We’re still working some things out. He’s in the audience right now. How are you enjoying the show?

>Someone stands up.

Real fine. It’s no End of Summer or Summer Olympics, but it’s still a great show.

Misuzu Hiiragi: I’m glad you think that.

MC: (a bit surprised) Whoa! The King of Stride? Guess that makes you the Queen of Stride.

Misuzu Hiiragi: (laughs a bit) No, I think my stepdaughter’s claimed that title. Sorry.

>The audience laughs at the joke.

MC: Well-

>Suddenly, a stagehand rushes to the MC and hands him a note. He reads it.

MC: Well look at this! It appears we have a couple of last minute guest hosts.

Ross Caliban: Are you serious? Who?

MC: (reading the note more) I’m not sure. They say they wishes to remain anonymous. They’re even sending a couple of guys with personal computers because they don’t want to be traced.

>Suddenly, two men come up to the host table, each with a couple of laptops.

We’re here on behalf of our employers. They apologize for the sudden appearance.

They’re even willing to make a donation to make up for wasting your time.

MC: Well that’s very generous of them, but Stark Enterprises backs us up. But I’m sure it’ll be fine... It’ll even raise my pay check... (laughing) I’m just joking.

>The audience laughs as the two men set up the laptops. They turn on.

We apologize for the sudden appearance. You may refer to me as “E”.

And me as “H”. We just wish to enjoy your Dream Festival.

MC: So what have to mysteries on our hands. This Dream FES is really getting more and more exciting.

Adrien: I know. Now I really wish I was there.

MC: No doubt. Anyway, aside from our first two acts, we have plenty more... Including a mystery entry. Now, without further ado, let’s get on with the show!

Panther: We’re the first to go! Are you ready?

Queen, Oracle, Noir, and Violet: Ready!

Then let’s do this!

>The Women of Power begin performing You Are Stronger.

>After the song.

Adrien: Amazing! That performance was so cool! I bet even Clara Nightingale would be impressed.

Ross Caliban: No doubt. I’ve seen girl groups perform before, but wow... You girls really stole my heart!

Misuzu Hiiragi: You girls are no Rise Kujikawa or Kanamin Kitchen, but you five really show promising talent.

E: Yes. You all dance so beautifully. And that song about how people can be stronger than who they are? Sounds like an absolute inspiration.

H: So wonderful. I bet even the hard-hearted would be moved.

Panther: Thank you. And we thank our friend who responsible for it.

Sophie: (happily whispering) Thank you.

MC: Now on to our next group. Substitute Skul5?

Skull: It’s just the song I did last Dream FES. I hope you all like it this year.

Joker: Because it’s important to continue perusing what is in your heart.

Fox: Beauty exists in dream and your dream will not wait.

Mona: Though they may seem out of reach, this song will keep you going.

Crow: So let us sing and you will reach your goal in the speed of light!

Substitute Skul5: So, KEEP RUNNIN’ DREAM!

Dorika Time!

Catch Your Cheer!

Let the race begin!

Catch Your Cheers!

Let’s cross the finish line together.

Catch Your Cheers!

I’m flattered by your good cheer!

Catch Your Cheers!

Cheerful Jam Coord

Such a wonderful feeling you have given me.

Catch Your Cheers!

Cheerful Jam Coord

Your cheers will unlock the mystery of your dreams.

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>We change clothes.

Cheerful Jam Series! Complete!

>With that, we perform KEEP RUNNIN’ DREAM. Skull was right. If we could, we could become a real Unit with him instead of substitutes... But, we already have our paths set. Though they still go side by side, they are different, but our bond is unbreakable.

>After the song, the audience went wild.

Adrien: That was so cool! Even a close friend of mine agrees that you guys ere great.

Ross Caliban: I think you guys are awesome together. I know you guys are just armatures filling in, but wow!

Misuzu Hiiragi: My thought as well. It’s remarkable on how the song goes.

E: Yes. If my own friends could see this, they would love it.

H: Indeed. I think there may have been someone who may have had his heart touched by this... Despite him claiming that he didn’t have one.

>I can sense that’s right. But hearing about someone touching the heart of someone who claims to not have a heart does sort of remind me of Sophie creator... So why does my thought keep turning to Boss?

MC: Now, on to our next act! You know them as superheroes, but tonight, you will know them as stars. Give it up for the Future Avengers!

Bruno: I know Makoto is the leader, but are you ready!?

Makoto: We’re with you all the way, Bruno!

>Adi, Chloe, and Kei agree.

Bruno: Then let’s do it! This is a song I’ve been working on. The only down side is that we didn’t have time to pay for the Dream Festival System.* Now, let’s do this! Our song, Storms of Glory!

NOTE 2:* Actually, we forgot to add the Future Avengers act. We didn’t have time to use the Dream Festival System and I’m having trouble saving things on Tumblr, most likely due to how long this post is. But we’ll see if we can put up the song. Also, we like apologized if it sounds a bit rushed.

Bruno Little did you know, we’re not just some punks We’re what fly the air

Makoto You’ll never see it coming, you’ll be sunk Then you’ll know we’re there

Adi Don’t bother looking up, you’ll be down We bring the justice right now and here

Chloe Power and the sky will not let you frown The storm of glory is near

Kei Let’s go

Future Avengers Storm of Glory, blow your winds this way Your flight will lead us to victory No darkness will stand this day The day we shine and see

>After the song.

Adrien: It sounds a little rushed. But I suppose you deserve an A for effort.

Ross Caliban: But you do have a point, the song doesn’t really connect. But it was a good try. I’m sure you’ll get it next time.

Misuzu Hiiragi: I can tell that you have potential in the music depart ment aside from being a hero. Perhaps a little more pactice would be good for you.

E: I agree. It pays to practice. How about if things calm down, I can help you?

Bruno: You really mean that?

H: I believe she does.

Bruno: ... Thank you.

>A few acts later.

MC: And now for our last act. A mystery act because she wanted to surprise us. Now give it up for...

>Suddenly, the lights go out. Then, a spot light shows on stage... We were surprised by who was in it.

Surprise, everyone!

A- Akane!?

MC: Wow, Akane chan. I guess you had the Phantom Thieves in mind for this, huh?

Akane: Yeah. My friends helped me out with it.

Panther: I was in charge of the long socks and shoes.

Queen: The skirt, belt, and corset were me.

Oracle: I did the coat and gloves.

Noir: I commissioned the mask and top hat.

Violet: And I did the make-up.

MC: So it was a team effort? You have some great friends, Akane chan.

Akane: Pretty much. Sorry, Dad. I just wanted this to be a surprise.

Wolf: ...

MC: Looks like your pops is still having a hard time processing this. I’d explain why, but that would be entering some thorny territory. So, is the song also after the Phantom Thieves?

Akane: That’s right. This one’s for you, my Thieves!

>With that, Akane performs He’s a Trickster⭐.

>After the performance, the crowd cheered loudly. Even Wolf couldn’t resist... Then he mouths something to her.

Wolf: We’ll talk about the highly inappropriate outfit later. Right now, you did great tonight.

Akane: Thanks.

Adrien: I can really feel the Phantom Thief vibe. And I thought Cat Noir appears to be the mysterious type... Or especially Ladybug.

Ross Caliban: Well, I think the outfit’s a bit of an overkill, but it definitely shows your devotion to the group. Believe it or not, I’m a bit of a Phan-boy myself. Don’t worry, Spider-Man’s still number one in my book.

Misuzu Hiiragi: But I agree, the outfit’s overkill. However, red is definitely your color.

E: Yes. You really put your heart into this. Believe me, I know.

H: I sense it too, even though I am not there. You wanted to show your appreciation to your heroes.

Akane: Thank you.

MC: Well, that about wraps it up for tonight. Tomorrow night, we will see which Idol will make it to the Top Three and become True Idols and get a music deal. We’ll see you then!

>The audience applauded.

>Later back stage, the MC was taking some coffee when he heard someone talking in the shower room.

WARNING: Some nudity ahead, but nothing will be shown. Just the upper half. Please don’t flag.

I think tonight was rather exciting. I think that’s the first time me and Morgana have ever used the System.

Mona: (no picture available) I know. I hope Lady Ann was watching.

Are you seriously thinking about that? We know about your infatuation with her, but asking if she saw your magical boy transformation? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?

Crow: Can you blame him? It’s a whole new sensation. Is this how it always feel when you use it?

You bet. It feels like you’re bein’ empowered by the fans and everyone else who believes in you. Kinda like our Personas.

Fox: They say clothes make the man, I think this takes it up a level.

Crow: Yes. But of course, we shouldn’t forget the actual performance. Singing and dancing our hearts out. We’ve come a long way since Dancing in Starlight.

We sure have. It seemed not too long ago when we did that. I know we were told that it was just a dream and that we would forget about it when we woke, but the experience will always be in our hearts.

Mona: That’s right. We’ll never truly forget.

>We all smiled happily.

Skull: It’s just a shame the others weren’t here. Oka, Nobu, and Ichiro. And we still haven’t even found a fifth guy. Because of the virus, we can’t have any auditions.

Crow: You could try hold online auditions.

Skull: ...

FOR REAL!? You coulda said so earlier!?

>We all laugh... Even the MC couldn’t hold it in... And he got an idea.

Crow: Is someone there?

Joker: (using Third Eye) I have something... It’s the MC.

MC: (nervous) Sorry! You just had the door open and I couldn’t help it. Don’t worry, I didn’t peek. But I have thought about what you said about Skul5 needing a fifth member. I know I shouldn’t be saying this because it may seem like favoritism, but... I think I might know a guy who might work out.

Skull: For real? Who?

MC: He’s this really nice kid I met while I was staying at this nice little pension... in Karuizawa...

>To be continued...

APOLOGY: Sorry. We know the MC said this would short, but it wasn’t.

Also, the Joker sprite is by Hex.

[mathematicianadda]

More Great Ways to Annoy a Mathematician

Which Ratio is Truly Golden?

I find it troubling that the golden ratio has so little in common with the golden rule.

Like, if you did unto others 1.618 times what you’d have them do unto you, then we’d all wind up exhausted.

And if you’re only doing 1/1.618 times unto them, then isn’t that a bit lazy?

  A Puzzle About Rates

I’ve always enjoyed those puzzles like, “If 3 chickens can lay 3 eggs in 3 days, then how long will it take 100 chickens to lay 100 eggs?” They’re counter-intuitive (e.g., in my example, each chicken lays 1 egg per 3 days, so the answer is also 3 days), yet deal only with simple constant rates.

So what if the rates weren’t constant? Like in, say, a bureaucracy, where 20 times more people will accomplish only 1/20th as much?

(Sorry for putting the answer upside down. It reads: “Please complete the attached form (Z302: Aggregate Task Completion Rate Information Request) and we’ll process your inquiry in 4-6 weeks.”)

  In this case, “a mathematician” refers specifically to Matt Parker, whose excellent book Humble Pi discusses the first two of these mistakes.

  The Asymptote of Happiness

Lots of poets have found asymptotes a convenient literary symbol – the idea of eternal striving is a resonant one (even beyond the eternal striving of the struggling algebra student).

  I love me some Raymond Smullyan.

Sorry again for putting the answer upside down. I dunno why I thought that was a clever idea. Mostly just forces you to turn off the auto-rotate setting on your phone.

Anyway, it reads: “Ask anything. You should already know not to buy lowfat yogurt.”)

  Proving a New Theorem

Not that I’ve ever felt this myself. I’m just speculating.

  P-R-E-N-A-T-A-L

What is parenting, if not a neat LARP?

(LARP = Live-Action Role-Playing Game, for those of you with less geeky acumen than I anticipate my audience to have.)

By the way, my friend Rayleen once described to me a brilliant comic, where one person asks, “When’s the baby due?” and the other person is drawn with a small horizontal stick figure emerging from their stick torso. (See? It’s such a good comic, I can just describe it.)

  The Sales Pitch for Math

I think a lot about the different arguments for math, and the ways that they support or contradict each other. Is it a beautiful art? An urgent set of universal civic skills? Key preparation for technical professions?

The answer is yes to all three. But not for all math, and not all at once – and attempting to blend the purposes can lead to a muddle.

  The Meaning of “Let”

It’s always tickled me that the mathematician’s verb “let,” which sounds so chill and laissez-faire, is actually a binding command.

  “All Happy Families Are Alike; Every Unhappy Family is Unhappy In Its Own Way”

I wrote a bunch of these a few years ago. This one has the benefit of being true: all circles are geometrically similar, but not all ellipses are.

(The same is true, by the way, of parabolas and hyperbolas. The former are all the same basic shape, just zoomed in or zoomed out, whereas the latter constitute a whole family of different shapes.)

(Chew on that, Tolstoy.)

  The Court-Appointed Translator

I wrote this little dialogue after listening to a great episode of The Allusionist, before it turned out that Game of Thrones would suffer the worst collapse in storytelling that I have ever experienced.

Oh well!

As my wife said, “At least this way we’ll never have to bargain with our daughter about when she’s old enough to watch Game of Thrones. The ending is so bad, in 10 or 15 years no one will be watching it anymore.”

  Identity Politics

This is a really dumb pun.

Also one of the more popular cartoons in this list.

Go figure.

  Another Dumb Pun

This one is inspired by that time Malcolm Gladwell referred to eigenvectors as “igon vectors,” and Steven Pinker blasted him for it, at which point Gladwell blasted Pinker for something else, and eventually we all lost the thread and just went about our days.

And if you want more godawful matrix puns, I’ve got ’em.

  I don’t know what day you’re reading this, but guess what? It’s also a bad approximation of pi! So go ahead and celebrate!

(Though if you want some very clever alternative pi days, check out Evelyn Lamb’s page-a-day calendar, which includes a Pi Day each month, and not where you’d expect!)

  Uncountably Many Wishes

After I posted this, there was a bunch of discussion on Twitter about whether I’d mischaracterized the Axiom of Choice, which is totally possible, in which case, oops.

Also, some folks pointed out that it’s pretty greedy to wish for uncountably many wishes, when you could just as easily wish for countably many.

To which I say: What’s the point of a magic lamp, if not to have greed be your undoing?

  Maximization vs. Minimization

For lots of optimization problems, maximizing makes sense, but minimizing doesn’t. (Or vice versa.) An example: What’s the largest rectangle you can make from 4 feet of wire?

It’s the 1-by-1 square, with an area of 1 square foot.

But what’s the smallest rectangle you can make (in terms of area)? Well, you could make the 1.9999 by 0.0001 rectangle, which has a very tiny area…

Or you could make the 1.999999 by 0.000001 rectangle, which has an even smaller area…

Or the 1.99999999999999 by 0.000000000000001 rectangle, whose area is microscopic…

…and so on.

I hope that was worth it! And I suspect it wasn’t! Anyway, moving on.

  More thoughts here.

  The Villainous Mathematician Explains His Plan

Clearly this villain should be assigning more group work.

Anyway, I for one am curious to know how a complex-valued currency might work. I’d pay a hefty fee for an accountant or tax attorney who can turn imaginary assets into real ones, or real debts into imaginary ones.

  The Cat on the Bed

I found it very hard to draw a decent space-filling curve.

Also, to draw a decent cat.

  Only Slept Four Hours

This is how I feel about anyone who sleeps less than 7 hours in a given night.

  Axioms of Life

This is my version of that xkcd about kitties.

Also pretty well summarizes parenthood. I still enjoy a cerebral geek-out, as I always have; but I also really enjoy holding my daughter in my arms and calling her the world’s best monkey over and over.

  How Many Stars?

I would totally read a graphic novel about the dating life of Georg Cantor.

The problem is that no one is going to write this graphic novel except for me.

Oh well. I’m under contract for two more books at the moment, but after that will come TRANSFINITE LOVE: THE ROMANTIC ESCAPADES OF A SET THEORIST.

  Quick-Draw Answers

Drawn from an actual experience, in my first week teaching 7th grade. I hadn’t really figured out how to tee up a problem-solving experience yet.

  Twenty Questions

Drew this one for a Jim Propp essay. Recommended as always!

  A New Proof

A teaching friend of mine had a whole list of proofs that 1 = 0, which he busted out at various developmentally appropriate points in grades 6 through 12.

I love that. Curious how far you could get writing a book of proofs that 1 = 0, each introducing a key idea in mathematics…

Maybe that’ll be my next project after the George Cantor romance novel.

  E = mc

Philosophical question: Is this a pun?

The case against: “A pun is a joke that plays on words that sound similar but mean different things. This isn’t doing that.”

The case for: “A pun is a joke that plays on linguistic expressions with similar surface features, but different deep meanings. This is doing exactly that: the premise of the joke is that an exponent and a footnote are both denoted with a superscript, yet mean very different things.”

So I guess this has a deep resemblance to puns, but lacks a surface resemblance… which is itself, not very pun-like.

Ruling: Not a pun!

  “The Exception Proves the Rule”

I guess you hear this inane phrase less often these days. But there was a time, kiddos, when people could hear a devastating counterexample to what they were arguing, and then blithely say “the exception proves the rule” with a straight face.

  The Math Sequence

I’m pretty agnostic on the math sequence. But I have strong intuitions that Star Wars should be screened in the order: IV, V, I, II, III, VI, and so on. (I view the sequels as pretty optional. Prequels too, for that matter, but if you limit yourself to the original trilogy, it’s a boring problem.)

  The “Same” Age

A lot of people on Facebook seemed to read this as though the right-hand character was creeping on Ariana Grande. Not my intention at all! I just wanted to pick a mid-20s celebrity. Could’ve just as easily been Bieber.

(My primary association with Ariana Grande, by the way, is her performance in the short-lived bar mitzvah-themed Broadway musical Thirteen.)

  Lemniskate

I’m not sure there’s a joke here.

I’m fond of this drawing anyway.

  Linear Child

Michael Pershan, the internet’s most relentlessly analytical math educator, inexplicably loved this joke, so I call it a win.

Someone on social media speculated about the position by which this linear combination had been “conceived,” which I found quite vulgar and upsetting (but which I also sort of invited by drawing a comic about procreating vectors).

  If P, then Q

Where do we draw the line between logical succession, and outright stalking? I leave that to the courts.

  Loons and Lunes

Sometimes I just want to do a cute drawing that has no joke in it, okay?

  The Vertical Line Test

I’m actually skeptical that the phrase “vertical line test” has any value. To me it feels like a fancy name for a fact that doesn’t need a fancy name. And, as in the two-column-proof version of geometry, giving fancy names to facts that students should be reasoning out for themselves can become obfuscatory rather than clarifying.

  Whose Fractal is Whose?

Please join me in making “Patricia gasket” a thing! E.g., “Did you know Copley Square in Boston is the approximate shape of the mathematical figure known as a Patricia Gasket?”

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[universeinform-blog]

Fortune magazine crowns Theo Epstein 'world's greatest leader

New Post has been published on https://universeinform.com/2017/03/28/fortune-magazine-crowns-theo-epstein-worlds-greatest-leader/

Fortune magazine crowns Theo Epstein 'world's greatest leader

The Chicago Cubs’ president of baseball operations finished inside the top spot, in advance of Alibaba founder Jack Ma. Pope Francis at No. 3, Melinda Gates at No. 4 and Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos rounded out the top

Epstein, who helped give up the Boston Crimson Sox’s 86-year Global Series identify drought as their general manager in 2004, noticed his Cubs give up their 108-12 months drought this past season. But he would not necessarily accept as true with the respect.

In a textual content to ESPN’s Buster Olney, Epstein said, “Um, I can not even get my dog to forestall peeing within the residence. This is ridiculous. The whole thing is patently ridiculous. It is baseball — a hobby involving numerous risk. If [Ben] Zobrist’s ball is 3 inches farther off the road, I’m on the hot seat for a failed 5-yr plan. And I am not even the exceptional chief in our agency; our gamers are.”

Wrote Sports activities Illustrated’s Tom Verducci for Fortune: “This time there was no proprietary method, no set of rules, for self-motivated, excessive-individual players and creating surroundings to allow them to flourish. [Epstein and his assistants] by no means stopped looking to locate edges, However, they made a fundamental choice early after coming to Chicago that the one part they could exploit became observed in a completely old-college resource: people.”

Fortune magazine subscription services

Epstein might be rewarded for his management. His first deal paid him a median of $3.7 million 12 months. His cutting-edge deal, which he agreed to in September, will see him making nearly $10 million a yr.

Epstein wasn’t the only Sports discern at the listing — LeBron James becomes ranked eleventh.

Should I Trust a Fortune Teller to Read My Future?

Can a fortune teller surely predict my future?” “Must I trust a fortune teller?” Those are the forms of questions humans inquire from me once they examine of my incredible hobby in mysticism and the occult. I’d often inform them approximately my exciting experience traveling a fortune teller whilst I used to be a youngster.

It turned into a heat summer evening. My pals and that I was searching out a few exhilaration within the ultimate days of our excursion earlier than we started out high faculty. So we decided to go to the nearby fairground and feature amusing. I was sporting a tank pinnacle and shorts, and turned into barefooted – my favorite outfit even to nowadays.

We came throughout a tent with a signal in the front announcing “Have your fortune advised with the aid of an international famous fortune teller.” I thought that became exciting. I failed to believe in any of that stuff, however being an adventurous and rebellious youngster I desired to go in and find out what it changed into like traveling a fortune teller. I was even considering making amusing of the fortune teller, asking them some weird questions.

My pals have been more inquisitive about trying their success on winning a few filled animals in the sports arcade. So,

I went into the tent by myself. The fortune teller was a middle-aged girl dressed like a Gypsy, sporting a colorful robe and scarf, and all sorts of unusual earrings. She looked alternatively comical, and that I couldn’t assist guffawing. I fast included my mouth and pretended to cough.

The fortune teller greeted me, “Welcome, young lady. Have a seat, I’ll be right with you.” So, I sat down and propped my ft up on another chair. “Good day, get your grimy ft off my chair!” yelled the fortune teller. I was a chunk startled and stated, “Oops, sorry mom.” Glancing at her stern face, I attempted difficult not to snicker once more.

She pulled the chair and sat on the desk dealing with me. before even asking me any questions, the fortune teller summarized my emotional nation at the time. She stated I just broke up with my boyfriend whom I took into consideration the affection of my life, and she or he sensed a deep sadness within me. I was shocked. How did she realize? before I had a risk to recover, she went on to inform me that I’d not get returned with him. I used to be absolutely devastated, as I was hoping she would say the opposite.

I was giggling a minute ago, and now I found myself sobbing in front of the fortune teller. To make topics worse,

I didn’t have any tissue and neither did she. So, I had to wipe my tears and runny nose with my shirt. How embarrassing! I felt just like the fortune teller turned the table on me. I was planning to make amusing of her but because it grew to become out, I used to be the one who felt humiliated.

However, the fortune teller confirmed a few compassion. She attempted to consolation me and informed me that the universe had something better in the shop for me. She said I Have to allow my antique boyfriend move because I was quick to satisfy my actual soul mate. This good-looking guy and I’d get married and have youngsters, we’d pressure a massive van and live fortuitously through the ocean. I didn’t definitely agree with her even though, as I idea she turned into just announcing The ones things to make me experience higher.

Why Do People Read Magazines?

Magazines are a fantastic source of facts and amusement. Folks that are ordinary mag readers have a tendency to be the most knowledgeable about the world. The concern remember of magazines varies as plenty as the world around us. The choice is completely as much as you:

It could be fitness, education, style, films, era, science, business and the economic system, sports, lifestyle, travel, and tourism, or whatever in between. Besides studying magazines at domestic, you may also find them in inns, airplanes, places of work, salons and pretty much any region with a waiting room.

Ladies tend to study magazines greater often than men. They normally enjoy fashion, beauty, fitness, movie star gossip and home-care magazines. men, however, have their very own favored topics, consisting of sports, era, and business

There are plenty of magazines to satisfy their interests, too. No matter your gender or your pastimes, there’s a magazine to fill your informational desires and urge for food. The frequency of booklet is generally weekly or month-to-month, though there are a few bi-monthlies, quarterly and annual magazines.

Who’s possible to enroll in magazines?

Many households are counted magazine subscriptions as an ordinary fee much like groceries and energy. Those households are able to live well knowledgeable about the world and up to date on their favorite subjects. And all this statistics is delivered instantly to their mailbox each week or every month.

Many places of work additionally frequently join magazines, in most cases for 2 reasons:

1. To maintain employees aware of the ultra-modern improvement inside the enterprise’s industry.

2. To entertain guests at the same time as they watch for appointments.

Outdoor of homes and workplaces, you may find different companies taking benefit of reasonably-priced magazine subscriptions. Those encompass salons and health practitioner’s workplaces, in which people need to look forward to appointments. Magazines are best for this example, as they give customers a danger to seize up with world occasions and different pastimes at the same time as they wait. A big choice of magazines in a ready room is taken into consideration to be very professional and courteous. All this information is brought directly to their mailbox each week or every month.

The Advantages of Using Dental Crowns

The dental crown is a custom-made dental cap this is utilized in overlaying the enamel. The crown is utilized in replacing the broken teeth enamel. Many oldsters recognize of the existence of the dental crown, however, lack the knowledge of its importance. For a long term, many people had an opportunity of solving dental crowns and are playing their blessings. Under are the blessings of using the dental crown.

Relieve uncomfortable symptoms

The crown may be used to cool the remedy of an in-depth damage completed at the enamel. An instance of such remedy consists of large tooth decay, infection of the basis and fracture of the teeth. These damages constantly reason an infection of the tooth and after filling, they should be sealed. The crown gives the precise answer for filling the enamel. It prevents contamination of the foundation.

Simple process

In contrast to the thoughts of many humans, placing the crown is very simple. Unluckily, many assume the process is complicated and it consumes extra time. The dentist will clean your teeth and shape them in order to have the ability to preserve the crown. Professional experts will handcraft crowns that suit the form of your teeth. The crown might be constant on the teeth completely the use of bonding cement.crown jobs new Bremen Ohio

Fits your smile

Any other advantage of the usage of the crowns is the capability of creating them to fit your smile. The dentist is capable of shaping the crowns to suit the exact size, form, and color of your enamel. The expert has the functionality of fitting the dental crowns that meet your specs. Subsequently, you’ll be confident of having treatment with a view to meet fulfill your dreams and.crown intranet