#serial installment

[unpretty]

So assuming a group of disillusioned programmers wanted to put together a WordPress replacement, what would be necessary features for you to try it?

gotta be easy for a moron to install, either through docker or whatever other one-click installer options are out there

the ability to assign posts to categories and have the next/previous button on single post view only apply within that category

likes/kudos on posts (why did i need to install a plugin for this)

the ability to paywall posts or categories according to subscriber tier

multiple payment processor options instead of just stripe (paypal, ccbill, authorize.net, literally anything that won't ban you for smut lmfao)

the ability to send posts as emails substack-style with category-specific email lists (i don't mind it needing to plug into a third party service for this but right now with wordpress i've got two different third party services duct-taped together for something it seems like it should be able to do out of the box, what the fuck)

comments section that can also be limited by subscriber tier

[not-poignant]

I was surprised to hear that Ice Plague is a lesser read story from you! It’s one of my favorites and something I re-read often. I treasure that little family. I’ve never loved these particular characters more, they’re all my favorite versions of them. It’s such a beautiful and brilliantly plotted book!

Oh thank you anon!!

Tbh I think there were a few things working against it:

It came at the end of an already long series and there's more drop off the longer a series goes for, because it can only keep the people reading it, and doesn't attract new readers (though it attracted a few who didn't like Gwyn/Augus!)

A lot of people just didn't want to leave Gwyn/Augus behind and/or didn't like Mosk/Eran (I learned my lesson there)

It was actually written a lot more like a book series because I was writing them with a view to publishing down the track, which means of the whole Fae Tales Verse series, The Ice Plague is the one most ready to go directly to paperback/hardback etc. But I actually think that style of like epic fantasy storytelling is a bit less compatible with AO3 serials.

I wrote less cliffhangers. I now write a lot more cliffhangers (for all people hate them, they just do create more connection to a story as long as they're breaks and it's not constant).

I still love The Ice Plague. At the time I got really disheartened with it, and then I reread it and I was like 'wait this is fucking good though???' - I also think this and the final epilogue give Gwyn and Augus the happiest ending they could ever hope for.

In terms of writing quality, it's the story I'd publish first in the Fae Tales Verse even if it's out of order. It was the thing that was like 'shit, I can do this, and I can do this pretty well actually.' But I didn't know that at the time, because I was watching like... every metric of engagement dwindling over the years.

I'm afraid of this happening again with Underline the Red and Underline the Silver, but...I'll just have to suck it up and figure it out if it does happen! And in the meantime, I don't regret writing those stories, I'm just sad that it all fell out the way that it did. There are some of us who really love TIP, and I toast to like all of you, because whether you found it during the series or after the series, it's kept me going! <333

[mariocki]

A young Roger Delgado works to expose an otherworldly conspiracy, as newspaper columnist Hugh Conrad in Quatermass II: The Coming (1.4, BBC, 1955)

[threadsun]

Ok, I don't think we're at splitting it into parts territory yet, but we might just get there if I keep making these longer each time, but without further a due, here is the true beginning of the cult town au

You still can’t fucking believe you’re doing this, how did you get here again? Oh, right, the letter. Not a letter in your mailbox, or even under the front door, no, that would make too much sense. This letter was tucked safely under your pillow next to a concerningly sticky spot right next to your head. The letter was about your dad, he had recently passed and he left you his house and his whole ass cult in his will. No, really, in the will it says “and my whole ass cult” Apparently your father had a sense of humor

Your mother warned you not to go, urging you to come with her to flee the country, but something about this was too insane to not delve into. You also felt bad for all those poor people your father must have tricked, people don’t just decide to move to a commune because they’re in a good place in life, maybe you could help them out, change some lives. Or maybe the thought of having a whole town under your control sounded just a little too good to pass up. Either way, you packed everything important in a few bags and suitcases and plugged the address into your GPS

It was a few hours drive, and your car was making some concerning noises an hour or so out, but you pressed on, hoping this little town had a mechanic. You manage to get your car to pull through just long enough to get you into town and into a gas station parking space. You noticed the gas station had clearly seen better days, not because it was dirty at all, but because of how old it looked, the pumps didn’t even have card readers on them

While looking around, wondering just what you should do next, you read the sign of the shop right next door “Jo’s Repair Shop” You guessed it was common sense to have a repair shop right next to a gas station. As you walk over you spot a guy on his smoke break, you’d hate to bother him but you did need your car looked at. Yep, that’s it, that's the only reason, it’s not just your excuse to talk to the handsome stranger, definitely not, that would be silly. Oh wow, he’s built like a brick house, can you even talk to this guy? Oh, fuck he’s looking at you, quick, just don’t be weird

“Howdy” Howdy? Your one job was to be normal and you open with Howdy??? Wait, he laughed, god he sounds nice, at least he thinks you’re funny instead of stupid. You ask that after his break he looks at your car because of the noise it keeps making “Oh, that was your car? I thought someone was killing a dog out here” He chuckles and you can’t help but feel a bit flustered, you can’t tell if the feeling comes from having made that noise on the road for about an hour now, or because of how nice his voice was to listen to

He tells you it’s no trouble and puts out his cig, saying “I really need to quit anyhow” before letting you lead the way to your car. He gives your car a good once over before looking back at you “Well, I’ll be honest with you, it’s a miracle you got this far, doll. Your breaks are shot and your engine almost looks like it’s been cut with something. Sorry to say, but I don’t think I can get her up and running again, at least not cheaper than just buying a new car”

Great, just great, moving into a new town with no car, awesome. You sigh and thank him for the trouble, asking how much he wanted for the once over. He tilts his head “How much? I just looked at it, doll you don’t gotta pay me anything” …Doll? Doll??? Is this man trying to kill you? It didn’t register the first time he said it but it sure is now. You stutter out a thank you and ask how far out the founder’s house is “Oh…uh, from here it’s about a mile, but there’s not much of a reason to go. The founder died about a week ago” His eyes glaze over as he speaks, like he’s not even here. You tell him you know about your father’s recent passing, and apologize for bringing it up, saying he clearly meant more to him than he ever did to you

Joseph takes a moment, you can almost hear him trying to grind the rust off the gears in his head “Wait, father, like…like he’s your dad? Or was, I guess, but you’re-you…you’re the founder’s kid?” You have to stifle a laugh before confirming that yes, your dad was indeed your dad “...Holy shit-uh, sorry, I shouldn’t cuss in front of you, unless you want me to? God, you saw me smoke” He runs his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down “Sorry, let’s start over. I’m Joseph, it’s an honor to meet you, your grace”

You’re a little taken aback by his shift in tone but also a bit flattered. You tell him your name and that it’s nice to meet him as well, not missing the small shudder that runs through him when you say his name. He quietly says your name, testing how it feels on his tongue, the way he looks at you when he says it sends up to your cheeks “Well since you’re moving in you probably have quite a bit in your trunk, so we’ll need someone to move it. I mean, I don’t have a doubt everyone in town would pitch in to help you out but you look a little overwhelmed already”

You nod, you’ve only been here for about fifteen-thirty minutes and you’re already a bit shaken, the long drive here probably wasn’t helping things “Hm, why don’t I take you over to Laurent’s place? The actual restaurant is closed because Jean broke his arm but the bakery and frozen section are still open. We’ll get some food in you and I’ll talk to Berry about bringing his car over to haul your stuff” You agree, thanking him for all the trouble, he just laughs, and you can’t help be notice just how fake his other one’s sounded in comparison “If this is trouble I’d love to see what you think doing someone a favor is. Now come on, let’s get you something to eat” You make sure to lock your car before walking off with your new acquaintance, still nervous but excited to see where today will take you

I need you to know that as soon as I got this ask I put everything down to read it aloud to Moon and now we're just rambling about how good it is!!!! We're so invested in this AU!!!!

[tsubasaclones]

did you know there's a lot of yamaha vocaloid downloads available on archive.org

[tieflingbi]

fighting for my life trying to reinstall clip studio pro on my new pc and for what? to open a blank canvas and stare at it with increasing desperation for ten minutes before closing it again? probably but i will still do it

[asksoldieron]

SO-4: If I Hafta Have Paper Lace Crammed In My Head Every Time I Read This One Then You Do Too!

If there's a lot of engagement on this, this post is liable to get real long, beware before you expand.

I'll edit in the real art once I make some!

Welcome to the Engagement Lounge, for Meet Billie (SO-4) an instalment! Short comments can go in the replies, but there's a 475 character limit. Longer ones will need a reblog. Remember to @asksoldieron if you're reblogging someone else's reblog, so I can see it too!

Ha-ha, I'm going to make so many number-related typos and formatting errors. "Wait, is this #3 or #4?" It's #4, and Dr. Beetle owes Violet another dollar. Billie's whole name is Wilhelmina Roth, that's a Will Scarlet to keep Rob and John company on their adventures. Sometimes my little puns are so stealthy, I think I'm probably the only one who gets them. (See also "blue headphones with no wires and human teeth.")

So, of course, when I actually got around to writing this, I got "Billy, Don't Be a Hero" stuck in my head, on loop. It was not possible to pick anything else for the musical portion. And once I'd done three songs, I figured I'd probably end up doing all six with music. Hey, I wasn't able to illustrate them when I put them up, and my readers deserve some kinda bonus for their patience. (When I come back from this little break, there's gonna be an artsplosion.)

Billie's not fond of what they're doing either, but she's tougher about it. (I like my men injured and pathetic, and my women strong and competent but conflicted!) Greg doesn't mind as long as nobody hurts any animals. Erik isn't hurt, he's just... being kept in a box with all his needs being met like a hamster. He's fine!

You'll see the beginnings of the Cat Network later, when I have a little space for an important flashback. They did know Greg was willing to do this sort of thing, and, though you haven't seen it yet, Seth and Nicky used him for at least one emergency during the siege. But nobody knew just how much you could do with a silly god and a few friendly animals. People tend not to share information about gods, or write it down. There are often adverse consequences. You'll see some later!

Heehee, Erik tries to speak "Prokovian" (really Russian ala Google Translate, so you can plug it in and decode what they're saying) in this one. "Dobroye outré" is a little too French, but close enough that Mattie probably gets it, if he's listening.

And I had to go back and add the gumballs to this one! I knew they must have something, but when I came up with something that weird (it's for another pun, I just can't help myself!), I knew I had to foreshadow it a little. If they had a gun, maybe you'd just accept it, but gumballs... Anyway, John definitely doesn't want a gun. Nor should he have one. (I want to use them at least one more time, but I don't think I can in the most obvious place...)

[Back to the Site?]

[untitledgoosegay]

This isn't really true -- the week is standard for Weekly Shonen Jump (it's in the name), but not for other publications. Dungeon Meshi was published in the seinen magazine Harta, which publishes ten issues a year -- this applies to every work serialized in that magazine, and others that run on similar schedules.

Dungeon Meshi is unique because Kui put an incredible amount of foundational work into detailing and supporting her world and characters, as well as planning and structuring her story ahead of time.

WSJ is far from the only manga publication, and its practices are not universal

“Omg dungeons menshi is so good! The characters and the worldbuilding and the art and the hu—“

It’s because the author had TWO MONTHS between publications instead of the usual week. 8X the amount of time to plot her story and see where she had been and where she was going and figure out how best to get there. Imagine if this was the industry standard instead of the crushing gears of weekly publication which grinds the minds, bodys, and souls of mangaka to dust until there is nothing left. Imagine Dungeon Menshi qualify manga as a rule not the exception. Imagine stories that did not destroy their creators. Imagine—

[iishmael]

Ok I finished the Silmarillion!!!! God it was so so so so so so good I can’t believe I never read it before

[relto]

ehe guess who fixed the stupid driver problem! finally!!!

[hetalia-club]

I believe the only way hetalia could be properly produced into a life action would be if it was filmed as a mockumentary. Where there would be cut always to them having interviews about each other discussing what just happened. They would have to lean 100% into the satire and not be serious at all in order for it to do its job and not be offensive. Maybe some cut always to flash backs. And always over dramatized for the situation.

Like America in an interview like: “Russia doesn’t think I know that he has hidden cameras installed in my house but I have know for over ten years. I have been dropping little hints that I might be a serial killer and his attitude towards me has changed.” And it just does a flash back through a camera POV of America walking in his front door with long rubber gloves and a rain coat with a balled up sheet

Like this is what it would have to be.

[jazzstarrlight]

Bonus content!

Nuzi - Oil Sharing (short comic) 16+

⚠️Warning: vampiric intimacy I guess⚠️🧛

🧛Blood sharing (or oil sharing in this case) is an intimate act between vampires (or disassembly/solver drones) that can also strengthen both parties somewhat better than getting other sources.

Given, it's probably not that filling, it does the job for a little while I guess.

... How long is a "while"? Eh, ignore that. Lol. Enjoy the comic!

Let me know what you think!

Also, did Uzi lock the door? ... Khan is hopefully at work. ...maybe. Lol.

[rcmclachlan]

"Everyone at Harbor was... very concerned."

"Attention, all channels: Please be advised, a team from the coroner's office and biohazard removal specialists have been dispatched to LAFD Station 118 for the removal of human remains."

It takes a second for the words "Station 118" to penetrate the thick atmosphere of concentration and rage that Tommy's been floating on while he tries fruitlessly to sweet talk the Bell 505 into accepting the new safety wires he's been trying to install for the last half hour, but the second they do, he tosses down the needle-nosed pliers in his hand and makes a bee-line for the radio sitting between Dana, Nico, and the unpeeled tangerine Nico's eating like an apple.

"Did they say human remains?" Tommy's already reaching into his pocket for his phone, then curses under his breath when he remembers it's sitting in the cockpit of the Bell. He glances across the hangar and gauges the distance. He can probably get to it in ten seconds if he sprints.

"Shut up," Dana says as she turns the volume dial up.

"Be aware that crowd control has also been sent to clear the area. If you are called to an emergency scene in the general vicinity of Station 118, you are advised to avoid Gale Avenue and the surrounding streets until further notice."

"A kid was probably trick-or-treating and found someone's grandma who'd kicked it like a week ago." Nico takes an unconcerned bite of his tangerine, because there's something severely wrong with him as a person. "It's probably nothing."

"That's not nothing?" Tommy looks at Dana for help, but she just heaves a sigh and gives a long-suffering flick of her fingers in Nico's general direction. Which, honestly? Fair.

"They said the remains were at the 118," she muses, pulling out her phone and scrolling through with her thumb, not a single movement wasted. "No one there ever gave off a serial killer vibe—I'm not counting that little blond shithead from a few years ago—so I'm chalking it up to a good old-fashioned misunderstanding."

Nico coughs around a bite of tangerine, rind and all, and Dana doesn't so much as glance his way while she slams a fist into his back. To the casual observer, it probably looks like they're rehearsing some slapstick routine, but every member of the 217 knows that the second Nico gets his hands on any kind of foodstuff, he's immediately seven or eight seconds away from death.

They've had to perform the Heimlich nine times this week alone, and it's only Thursday. He keeps meaning to ask Howie if it's possible to survive solely on IV fluids, but he has a sneaking suspicion that Nico would just manage to choke himself out with the tubing.

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. "Nico, I'm begging you: chew your food. Or, like, peel the rind off first."

"Every part of the animal, my man," Nico trills cheerfully, wiping his mouth. There are orange bits stuck in his teeth.

Holding up a hand, Dana taps her phone with her thumb, her neon green nail—filed to a point so sharp it might actually violate the contract they all signed about not bringing weapons into the workplace—clacking against the screen. The sound of a calling dialing out filters through the speakers and it only takes two rings before someone picks up.

"You good, Dana?"

"Hey Mohini, I'm fine," Dana says with a small uptick to the corners of her mouth that could be almost be described as kind, and just seeing it makes Tommy's skin crawl a little. He glances at Nico, who has stopped trying to kill himself via citrus fruit and looks every bit as disturbed as Tommy feels. The last time Dana smiled, it was right before she launched herself at the asshole who told them to take their time rescuing his stepkid from the fire that was consuming the cabin his family had rented for the weekend.

They saved the kid, and the guy was too shit-scared of Dana to even consider suing her or the department for his broken jaw. He was also dealing with a sudden divorce.

The ex-stepkid writes to Dana every month. Tommy can't prove it, but he thinks he once saw her throw an envelope with the kid's name and address into the outgoing mail pile, and he's also too shit-scared of Dana to bring it up.

Dana catches his gaze and he mouths, who even are you?

She flips him off, which honestly does wonders to assuage his fears of her being possibly possessed.

"What's up, girl?"

"We heard the APB just now. What's going on with the 118?"

"What isn't going on with the 118?" Mohini laughs a little, crackling over the line. "From what I've heard, Firefighter Buckley bought a mummy for the Trunk or Treat thing they put on every year. A real one."

Startled, Tommy looks at the phone in Dana's hand and asks, very slowly, "He bought a corpse?"

Tommy can feel Dana's pointed stare on the side of his face, mostly because his skin is starting to sear, but Tommy can't do anything but stare at the phone and try to process that one. And he just can't. Every time he tries, the smell of burnt toast gets stronger.

"Honestly, I'm not even surprised. We've been overdue for a Buckley-related call. I mean, it's been two months since the last one. Remember the thing with the HVAC unit on Sunset?"

He barely remembers that Buckley-related call, but he does remember the one from three nights ago in great detail, which ended with him rimming Evan until he cried and then fucking his brains out. Apparently Evan forgot to put them back in before he bought a dead body to use as a Halloween decoration.

Blowing out a breath, Tommy turns on his heel, jogs over to the Bell, and grabs his phone from the pilot's seat.

Evan, are you okay? Dispatch said something about an incident at the 118, he texts, deliberately vague. He's been told once or twice that his texting tone can sometimes border on an interrogation, which is bullshit, because texting doesn't have a tone, but he doesn't want to be an asshole when he knows Evan's probably beyond humiliated about this.

Plus, Evan doesn't necessarily know that Tommy knows about the mummy. It'll be much better if he has the opportunity to tell Tommy on his own terms.

<< omw 2 the hospital. im ok!

Or he could just be incredibly Evan about it.

>> What happened?! Do you want me to meet you there? I can leave right now.

<< Awwww <3 Eddie going 2 meet me there. Come by l8r?

>> As soon as my shift ends, I promise. Are you sure you're okay?

<< disloc8ed shoulder

Evan literally had to go to a different keyboard to find the 8. Tommy hates how hard he's falling for this ridiculous person.

>> I'll fly there if I have to. Text or call me anytime, okay?

<< :-) :-) :-)

It's three smiley faces. It's nothing, and yet something inside him eases, turns three times, and curls up with a pleased purr.

Since he left the 118 and decided to finally live the life he'd spent his life refusing to allow himself to have, he's dated four people, Evan included. What he feels when he looks at those smiley faces is more than what he felt about the other three people combined. It's both terrifying and exhilarating. He never put stock in the whole 'there's someone for everyone' thing Sal's wife likes to throw around, but then he threw caution to the wind and kissed a beautiful, babbling man silent, and in the weeks that have followed his life seems so much more than he ever imagined it could be.

He has no idea how any of this is going to shake out, and chances are he's going to screw this up spectacularly, but he taps his finger gently to the middle smiley face and hopes Sal's wife is onto something. Maybe there really could be someone for him. Maybe that someone texts like a twelve-year old.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Tommy sends back a single smiley face and pockets his phone. And then immediately takes it back out and sends like five more, because he's pathetic.

Dana and Nico are right where he left them, and as soon as he gets close, Nico sits up and levels him with an expectant look.

"Are they gonna shitcan him? You know the LAFD will shitcan anyone no matter what the circumstances are," he says gravely.

Primly, Dana touches the points of each of her nails to the pad of her thumb. "Nico, if you didn't get shitcanned for tricking Chief Bailey into shrooming at the Backdraft Ball last year, I think Buckley's in the clear."

"That was a complete misunderstanding," Nico swears for the thousandth time.

Dana gives him a slow blink. "It was not. You pulled a jar of mushrooms out of your jacket and said, 'I'm gonna send Chief Bailey to Jupiter.' I have no idea why you're not in jail."

Smug as anything, Nico preens a little. "Chief B was going through some stuff and we went on a very good trip together."

Tommy and Dana share a dubious glance, because that could mean anything from impromptu therapy to having sex in the bathroom where the two of them were found. And Tommy's not one to judge anyone's sexual proclivities, but Chief Bailey is in his early eighties and has very well-documented hip problems.

"How's the human terrier doing? Did he dig anyone else up?" Dana asks. Her expression gives nothing away, but he knows she's laughing at him deep down in whatever black hole her body uses to siphon off emotion.

"Har har," Tommy deadpans, then pauses. "I actually don't know the answer to that. I'm really hoping it's just the one corpse. He did manage to dislocate his arm, though."

"I bet they're gonna shitcan him," Nico says.

"I bet Donato's gonna kill you in cold blood for eating her tangerine when she gets back," Tommy says brightly.

"Probably. I couldn't help it. Stolen food tastes better; it's a law of nature." Nico makes a thoughtful sound and gets to his feet, stretching languidly. "Since I'm already marked for death, I might as well eat her potato salad while I'm at it."

He and Dana watch him amble away in search of Lucy's motive, and Dana asks, genuinely curious, "You ever wonder if the LAFD will go against the grain and hire someone normal?"

"Only every day of my life," Tommy admits. "Speaking of which, did your friend have anything else to say about Evan's, uh, taste in Halloween decorations?"

She shakes her head. "It's with the police now. You off to see your grave robber?"

Huffing a laugh, he lightly kicks her foot. He doesn't know what it says about him that hearing Evan be referred to as a felon fills him with such fondness, but he decides to shove it out of sight until he can study it in greater detail when he's alone.

"My shift ends in a couple of hours. He can keep himself out of trouble until then." Tommy thinks about it for a second and amends, "Probably."

Two hours should be plenty of time to finish fighting with the safety wires, shower real quick, and then break a handful of traffic laws on his way to First Presbyterian. He can only hope Evan doesn't dislocate his other arm or lock himself in the morgue in the meantime.

"Hey." Dana kicks his foot and he lifts his gaze to hers. She stares at him for a moment and, terrifyingly, her mouth quirks again. "Happiness looks good on you, Kinard."

He ducks his head, smiling helplessly. "It's early days, D."

"So what? Doesn't mean you can't be happy about it." Dana shrugs. "I'm thrilled, frankly. Now we've got someone on the inside who can give us firsthand intel about what the fuck goes on over there."

"I'm not a spy," Tommy says flatly.

Dana nods. "True. But it won't be long before you're an accomplice."

Like it's a foregone conclusion that he's going to throw in with Evan and Evan's family. The hurricane could be written off as an outlier, but Tommy knows the second they come to him again for help—the very instant Evan asks—it's going to be an immediate yes.

"If it comes to that, will you bail me out?" he asks, half-jokingly. He won't do her the disrespect of trying to deny it. She's always had his number.

"Nah." Dana gets to her feet and reaches up to pat him on the arm. "I'll let Donato do the honors."

He'd rather stay in jail.

[cold-kitty]

The winner of this week's poll was... Yandere Murderer/Serial Killer!

Includes: murder (not darling), nsfw (not with darling), stalking, a little fluff, cameras

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

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

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer that had planned to kill you as his next victim.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who stalks you to figure out your routine to find when you're most vulnerable, but he ends up finding you cute.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who doesn't kill you right away just for his entertainment, he wants to figure out what makes you tick and use it against you. you're so cute when you're angry!

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who starts to see you as an actual person and not just someone for him to kill, which is a first.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who starts to really like you, who waits until you're not at home before installing discreet cameras in your house.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who watches you in his free time, every second of it.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who touches himself when you do, zooming in on your hand on your genitals.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who starts to leave you little gifts. your favorite candy bar? you suddenly have one. you like a certain animal? you have a new plushie. you wanna watch a movie? you suddenly have the DVD. he loves seeing your face light up every time you get a gift.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who feels enraged when someone picks on you. how fucking dare they! they should be hung on a meat hook like the animal they are!

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who feels his heart sink when he sees the look on your face when you find the body of the person, he wanted to comfort you. he would be more careful hiding the bodies now. there's also an onslaught of gifts the next day.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who finally, finally decides to take you. he makes sure he's gentle with you, he doesn't dare inject you with anything, he uses a simple cloth dipped in chloroform. he doesn't want to restrain you, but he's scared you'll run off.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who holds you until you wake up, rocking you gently.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who's genuinely so happy to have you now, even if you're scared or don't like him.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who showers you in gifts and love, who cuddles you while still respecting your personal space. he doesn't dare to force you into anything with him, he loves you too much.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who doesn't stop trying, who waits patiently for your love even if it hurts him.

Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer who stops killing people for you, he knows you don't like it and he doesn't like how scared it makes you.

If you end up falling for Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer, he immediately starts breaking down in happy tears. he's clinging to you, burying his head in your neck or chest, desperately kissing anything he can. he's so goddamn happy, he's waited so long for this.

If you don't end up falling for Yan!Murderer/Serial Killer, he'll just wait, he needs you to love him back.

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

How was this for my first fic? Feel free to ask for expansions of this idea, like darlings that act in a certain way. Mean, willing, scared, etc..

~🐈‍⬛

[jjmcquade-misc]

Some clever points by Rob Schneider As we have seen this week, ONCE AGAIN the Democratic Party is NOT running on any ideas to make American’s lives better, they are once again running on the hatred of one individual, Donald J Trump.

And they are hoping that YOU will HATE him so much that you will forget about the Democrat’s FOREVER WARS that are pushing the world closer to World War III, they are hoping that you forget about your grocery bills being 26% higher since Biden/Harris took office.

The Democrats are hoping that you FORGET all the CENSORSHIP that the Biden/Harris regime did, working with TECH companies to silence Scientists, Doctors and Academics and ANYONE who dared question their Tyrannical COVID POLICIES, VIOLATING THE FIRST AMENDMENT RIGHTS OF ALL AMERICANS, FIRING FEDERAL WORKERS, DOCTORS AND NURSES who refused to get an experimental vaccine, FORCING TWO YEAR OLD BABIES TO WEAR MASKS, CLOSING SCHOOLS AND SMALL BUSINESSES, while allowing BIG BUSINESSES to MAKE BILLIONS in profits, putting GIRLS AND WOMEN AT RISK BY ALLOWING NARCISSISTIC MEN TO INVADE THEIR SAFE SPACES AND SPORTS, putting PORNOGRAPHY BOOKS IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS, pushing the GENDER MADNESS OF CHILD MUTILATION SURGERIES and CHILD STERILIZATION CASTRATION DRUGS (PUBERTY BLOCKERS), REMOVING AMERICA’S ENERGY INDEPENDENCE and once again making our Nation captive to FOREIGN OIL, OPENING OUR BORDER allowing 11 MILLION ILLEGAL NON-CITIZENS INTO OUR COUNTRY, CAUSING MISERY, DEATH AND HUMAN TRAFFICKING, FLOODING OUR CITIES WITH MIGRANTS AND DEATH CAUSING FENTANYL, ILLEGALS FLOWN TO DIFFERENT STATES all being PAID BY U.S. TAXPAYERS.

The Democrats CALLED TRUMP ‘HITLER’ and half the CITIZENS of our country “MAGATS” and DEPLORABLES, INCITING HATRED AND THE ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF A FORMER PRESIDENT.

The Democrats cry of ‘SAVING DEMOCRACY’ as they DISCARD the 14 MILLION DEMOCRATS WHO VOTED FOR BIDEN IN THE PRIMARY, effecting a COUP, pushing OUT A DULY ELECTED PRESIDENT and much like the SOVIET POLITBURO, INSTALLING THEIR NEW PUPPET LEADER who had the LOWEST APPROVAL RATING OF ANY FORMER VICE PRESIDENT and who has still REFUSED to take ANY QUESTIONS FROM THE PRESS.

YES, the Democrats are hoping that you HATE TRUMP more than YOU LOVE YOUR COUNTRY AND YOUR FREE SPEECH, YOUR CHILDREN’S EDUCATION AND SAFETY AND YOUR FREEDOMS.

Robert Kennedy Jr. supporting President Trump is plainly this: A REJECTION OF THE AUTHORITARIAN AND SERIAL UNDEMOCRATIC ACTIONS OF THE DEMOCRAT MACHINE.

As a fellow American Citizen and Robert Kennedy Jr. supporter, I hope that you will OPPOSE TYRANNY and join us and VOTE FOR DONALD J. TRUMP FOR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! Sincerely,

Rob Schneider.

[peachdues]

when you give it up for a felon and then he does felon things

“Sanemi,” you pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers, the beginnings of a migraine creeping in from around your temples. “What the hell is that?”

“A working A/C unit,” he says smugly, chest puffed in pride. “Got it installed while you were at work. She’s purrin�� like a kitten.”

Your headache worsens. “I didn’t buy a new unit.”

“I know that.”

“Because I can’t afford a new unit.”

“And?”

Sanemi Shinazugawa is many things, but dense is not one of them. He’s being vague on purpose, thinking he’s sparing you from having to think too hard about how it is a state-of-the-art air conditioning unit sits neatly in your window when it costs more than your monthly rent.

Fine. If he thinks he’s playing it cool, you’ll just have to go for the jugular.

“Where did it come from, Sanemi?”

He’d expected you to ask how he obtained it, you’re certain, and he’d likely already had yet another ambiguous answer primed and ready to fire. But you’ve thrown him off, and now there is only silence between you, save the quiet whir of the air conditioning as Sanemi considers his options.

“The warehouse.” He says carefully and you groan.

“How did you pay for it?”

Another pause, and then, “Scratched the serial number off.” Too quickly, he adds, “They won’t track it.”