#so we're trying to get my shitty eye to actually pick up some of the slack by correcting it a little bit and waiting for it to adjust

[it-is-the-hannah]

Attempting to trick my brain into actually engaging in binocular vision after 24 years of Not Doing That is really something

[starzwithapen]

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ DUET?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☆summary: Brozone happens to play on the radio, and JD's appalled to find out you're not a fan

☆content: reader is not a pop-troll, reader is gender neutral, lowkey crackfic lmao, established relationship

☆a/n: Silver wrote this one!! And okay we KNOW realistically JD would tell his partner about being in brozone but for the sake of the comedic factor in the fic he's hiding it shshsshshhsbshshsh

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

You'd been sitting in the driver's seat, driving Rhonda around [a rare occurrence, but JD indulged you just this once] while John Dory stirred his sugar into his mug, handing you yours with a kiss to your cheek. You nod at him gratefully, looking down at the buttons spread across in front of you, one of them particularly sticking out to you.

“Woah, wait, I didn't know Rhonda had a radio.”

John Dory leans against the back of your seat, arms wrapped around you from behind, “ehh, I don't use it often in case it scares off all the animals.”

He pokes your arm playfully, eyes glancing out the window, “we're pretty far out, though, should be fine to listen to some tunes.”

You insert a random channel number, turning the volume upwards. This one seems to be a host speaking about the weather, so you switch to the next- sounds like a cheesy pop song of some kind, probably a boy band. You snort at the lyrics- you didn't know anyone could fit that many synonyms of “girl” into one song.

You switch onto the next channel without catching John Dory's wide, shit-eating grin, and the immediate way his face practically crumples apart, “wuh- hey, what's wrong with that last song? It was really good.”

“Okay, I know you're a pop-troll,” you start, trying to find a channel with your preferred music, “but you have to remember I'm not. That stuff hurts my ears.”

John Dory leans backwards, arms crossing around his chest, “Okay, yeah, you don't like pop music, but why that song specifically? I was really jamming out to it, y'know.” He makes that smug smile of his that normally has your cheeks heating, “guy's a lyrical genius if you ask me.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, because he's got to be joking if he thinks that song has deep lyrics.

“JD, he just rhymed baby with baby. Three times in a row. Within the same chorus.”

“Hey, it's hard to think of rhymes that don't throw off the choreo, okay?” He points an accusing finger in your direction before pausing, forcing a nonchalant pose and pursing his lips, “Or- uh, or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's what you pop-trolls always say. I think that guy just needs to pick up a dictionary every once in a while.”

You don't actually care about the song that much, but seeing John Dory get this riled up over it is funny enough for you to go further,

“I bet you I could write a better song by the end of the week than that guy has his whole career.”

John Dory's grin turns wolfish, and oh boy, you should've known better than to try and challenge him, even jokingly,

“Oh you bet, do you? We'll see about that.”

—-------------------

This whole thing was going. Uh. Badly.

Your conversation had escalated into another one of your bets, which you surprisingly lose more often than not, most likely because you bite off more than you can chew. John Dory's unfortunately very aware of this, and throws you bait whenever he can. This time was no different. Winner gets one request for the loser.

You are not a song-writer by any means. You're a troll, yes, trolls sing and dance! But you don't write songs! The most experience you have with rhyming is a shitty poem you made as a teenager that never saw the light of day.

You'd started with listening to more of Brozone's music, and okay, you have to admit, some of their songs were actually really good okay. You'd caught yourself humming them more than once throughout the day, and John Dory always gives you that smug look from your peripherals before leaning in to kiss you senseless. He knew you were coming around to them and it was humiliating, and he was also concerningly elated by it.

While listening you've come to realise the lead singer sounds oddly similar to John Dory, just with a higher pitch and none of that raspiness. Like, freakishly similar. It's had you thinking John Dory's calling for you when he's just sound asleep, and the fact you misheard Brozone's “baby” or “honey” as JD is frankly embarrassing.

You groan and slump against the couch, the pen tumbling out your hand and clattering onto the ground below. Okay, you had to admit, this was really difficult. You were suddenly gaining so much more respect for boy bands.

You'd wanted to use this ridiculous bet as an opportunity to show off, or…even bring you and JD closer together- you know how important music is to him, so getting to write him a love song under the guise of a bet? It's a perfect chance handed to you on a silver platter!

But you just can't seem to think of the words- it's already been a week and so far you've written, what? 4 verses? And they all sucked. You wanted it to mean something- you wanted it to sound poetic and elegant and meaningful all at once, unlike those silly songs on the radio, but it just wouldn't work out!

You muffle a frustrated shout into your hands, pulling them away from your face when you hear footsteps, looking up to see John Dory towering over you.

“You give up yet?” His smile is adorable infuriating to look at, so you cast your gaze aside, huffing and grabbing your pen off the floor.

“No, ‘course not.”

He hums, patient for you to admit defeat, trying to take a peek at your notebook from up above, though you're not too worried since he can't read upside down [or at all, you've come to suspect].

“Okay, fine, I give up. You win.”

John Dory lets out a ‘whoop!’ and throws a fist upwards in celebration, smile so wide you're afraid he'll split his face apart.

You sigh, “Okay, hit me with it, I'm doing the dishes for a full week? Scrubbing Rhonda's windows?”

“Sing a duet with me.”

“This is so unfair, you know I hate doing the dishes- wait- huh?”

John Dory looks at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, holding his palm out for you to take, “Sing a duet with me. C'mon, don't think I haven't seen you swaying to my- uh, ahem, Brozone's music the past few days.”

He recovers quickly from his slip-up, tugging you upwards once you take his hand. He carefully starts up his record player, and you're surprised to find you recognise the song immediately, since it'd become a favourite of yours this past week.

“You know this one?” JD grins in your direction, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm, “think I've heard you hum it a few too many times during breakfast.”

The song starts off slow, as does your dancing, the both of you simply swaying together- you don't exactly…dance often, so your movements are clumsy while his are self-assured.

The lyrics are cheesy, all about young teenage love, but…they make you feel giddy, your steps becoming lighter, your heart fluttering about. And, well, the song may not have deep mind-blowing lyrics, but you think that's the point of it. It's just meant to be fun, have your blood pumping and your heart soaring.

“We're grown adults, this song is for highschoolers.” You say, though your smile is fonder this time. John Dory chuckles and spins you around in his arms, making your head spin in more ways than one, your feet tripping up over his, “C’mon, live a little! Who says we can't be young and free in our mid-thirties?”

You stumble in place, trying to blink the dizziness out your eyes.

“JD, I'm gonna knock you out.” You try your best to grumble, but it only comes out flustered with how hot your cheeks are.

He smirks, twirling you around, “You've already knocked me-” his foot slides under yours, and you fall down into his arms with a yelp as he catches you in a perfect dip- “off my feet.”

Just before you can spew another insult at him for catching you off-gaurd like this, he leans in to kiss you, lips melding against yours sweetly. You melt into it, his arms secured around you so you don't fall, the music fading into background noise in your mind. You know your voice will be hoarse from singing and your muscles sore from dancing by the end of the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

Would be superr cool if you left feedback if you enjoyed it's super helpful and much appreciated ! this guy is so cringefail I NEED HIM. -silver

[tinybeetiny]

Aren't you embarrassed? Part 3: P.S

SMUT 18+ MDI

NonIdol!Toxic!Fratboy!SeonghwaxAfab!Reader

@yunhoscutie Here is part 3!!! I hope everyone enjoys this! Should I turn this into a whole series?

Taglist: @n1nme4r @e3ellie If you would like to be a part of the taglist please fill out this form

Smut

Cw: Explicit language, public fingering, shitty Hwa, poor Jongho :(

Previous Part

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For weeks, you continued to come over to see Jongho, and Seonghwa felt his anger rise every time you did. He's never been dropped like this and he hated it. How could some goody-goody bookworm like you treat him like that? Get him so out of character? He knew every time you were coming over because Jongho would scramble to get his room clean and organized for you and Wooyoung would tease the older boy every single time. Just when the boys thought he couldn't get any moodier, he did. "I swear on Yunho's life. If you do not shut up right now I will put you in the ground" "Why my life?!"

At first, it started out as something to get over Seonghwa or at least that's what Jongho offered but the more you hung out with him the more you started to like him. Your hangouts had upgraded to little cafe dates or a small library date and today was no different. You wandered through the many bookshelves trying to find the specific book on cell fusion, hand already full of textbooks. "Hey." A voice whispered behind you making you jump and drop the books in your hand "Still as clumsy as ever I see" You say nothing as you reach down to pick your things up but Seonghwa beat you to it "Molecular Biology. I thought you were an econ major?" He asked turning your textbooks around in his hands. You stare up at him for a moment before reaching to snatch your books back but he annoyingly places the books out of your reach "Ah ah. Not so fast. I just wanna talk, then I'll give this back" He grinned "I have nothing to say to you" You respond, crossing your arms. "I know you miss me." His voice lowered as he took a step towards you causing you to take a step backward and your back met the bookshelf. "Seonghwa st-" "Shh" He shushes you with a finger against your lips "I know Jongho can't make you feel the way I do" His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder "You're right. He actually makes me like a person" You scoff pushing his hand off you "Oh please. You know he can't please you the way that I can. I know all your spots, everything that you like" his hands come back up but stops to rest on your hip.

His fingers play with the hem of your skirt as you try to keep yourself calm. "Seonghwa stop. We're in the middle of the library and I'm waiting for Jongho anyways" You tell him but he doesn't listen, it goes in one ear and out the other. His hand moves to your thigh giving it a nice squeeze and you let out an involuntary sigh "See you miss me, I know you do. Stop fighting it and let me make you feel good." Your breaths become heavy as his hand runs up your thigh to your pretty little purple lace panties and you close your eyes as his fingers run over your clothes clit. You don't even have to look at him to see the cocky look on his face "Always so wet for me" he groaned as fingers push aside your panties and you bite your lip trying to repress a moan when they finally meet your dripping folds.

“Hwa, stop we’re in the library. We shouldn’t be- oh fuuck” your words cut off when his finger slipped inside you “What was that? We shouldn’t be what? I can stop.” He removes his finger and you whine when he does “no no please” You look up at him with big teary eyes, your face flushed red, and you pull him down by his shirt, pressing your lips to his. He pulls your panties down, stuffing them in his pocket before shoving two fingers back into your sopping hole and you have to bite your lip to keep from yelling out. The squelch of your pussy was so loud that if someone was in the next aisle they would hear it very very clearly but did you care? Absolutely not. Not when Seonghwa was knuckle deep, filling up so euphorically with his long slender fingers “fuck I’ve missed this. Missed how wet you get for me” "Seonghwa please." His fingers curled perfectly and you felt yourself getting close.

Seonghwa stared at you so intensely it made your heart jump and subconsciously clenched around his fingers. You pant out heavy moans as he draws you closer and closer, very happy you chose a less busy time to come to the library. "M'gonna cum" Your head falls back onto the row of books behind you and your hand flies to his wrist, holding on for dear life "Cum for me baby, cum all over my fingers" he groans watching you bring your other hand to muffle your moans and he brings his thumb to your clit to help with the stimulation. Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you and he can feel you dripping down his palm. He removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth, groaning when he tastes you on them "Open up sweetheart" He sighs bringing his fingers to your lips and you obediently part them before he shoves them in. His cock jumps at the sight of you sucking your cum off his fingers and he can't help but pull you close, smashing his lips against yours. Your head was spinning and the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Seonghwa's soft tongue against your own.

"what the actual fuck" You push Seonghwa away and turn to see Jongho staring with a furious expression before he storms off "J-Jongho, wait" You race after him, legs a little wobbly from your orgasm. Seonghwa stood back with a shit-eating grin on his face, he knew that would not be the last time you cum on his fingers

Next Part

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Playing a game with Seungmin ‗ ❍

Pairing : Kim Seungmin x f reader

Summary : chapter seven of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, fluff,

Word count : 620 words

A/n : none

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Maybe it was the fact that you were two teasing little shits made for each other. Or maybe competitiveness was just in your blood. Or then again it just kind of became your thing when you went to live together.

Many things since then had become a game. Literally. Sometimes you'd be planning dates based on who won the game.

"If I manage to throw the bottles in the bin three times in a row, we're going to the next baseball match on Sunday"

"And if you miss?" you teased.

"If I miss I guess I'll just have to tag along to whatever my boring girlfriend wants to do" Seungmin rolled his eyes, toying with one of the empty plastic bottles.

"Boring? Oh, I'm gonna take revenge on that one, just so you know." you replied, waving your hand towards him. "C'mon, shoot."

Not that spontaneity was dead in your relationship or anything, you simply found it fun. You'd actually just play with each other, more than anything. A bet, an actual table game, cards, impromptu little stuff...and well of course there's the other kind of games and playing reserved for the bedroom, but still.

"I want meat tonight" he said as he threw his card pick on the pile.

"Well I felt more like sushi" you replied, placing your own card on top of his, effectively making Seungmin huff as he picked up four extra cards. You smirked, an idea already forming in your head.

"Okay, how about we start over and if i win we get sushi and if you, somehow, win, then we get meat?" he squinted his eyes, accepting the challenge.

"Bring it on"

And of course, you won. Uno was kind of your thing, you were unbeatable at it. So sushi it was. But he didn't sulk, he liked it too and regardless he knew that you could've eaten meat the next day.

When one of you was mad sometimes all it took was literally some tickles and play fight to cool down the situation. That's because it was never that serious in the first place.

"Seungmin"

"No"

"Min?" you tried again.

"No"

"Seungminnie" your voice got higher in pitch, as your arms slumped over his shoulders.

"No"

"Minnie" your head resting on his. Still nothing.

"Okay enough with the cutesy stuff, then" suddenly you started to tickle his neck with your fingers, which made him yelp and stand up from the couch quickly.

"Yah! St-stop it!" he screamed, as you climbed over the couch and dragged him back onto it, to then straddle him.

"Tell me why you came home angry and I'll stop" you manage to say as you keep attacking his sides. He can't help but contort himself, giggling and cackling like a little kid.

"I-I don't- AH- wanna talk 'bout it" he finally managed to take both of your wrists in his hands, spreading your arms above him.

"I don't want to see you sad" you justified, not trying to free yourself. He looked up back at you with his puppy eyes, then sighed.

"I'm not sad. Just annoyed. I had a small argument with one of the boys and then messed up a bunch of times at practice." he explained, "Enough?"

You gave him an understanding look and then slowly brought your hands back down, which he didn't fight, freeing them gently.

"Alright. I'm sorry it was a shitty day. If you want you can talk more about the fight later" you said sweetly, positioning yourself on his chest, hugging him.

"Now cuddles because I'm tired"

"You tired yourself out" his voice hid a smirk and some irony.

"Whatever. I did it for you, you kid."

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Spending time with your friends while Bradley spends some time with his is beneficial. And then you find the perfect way to correct the power imbalance.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, spanking and smut

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my Masterlist!

Bradley woke up to you draped across him on Sunday morning. He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. He checked the time before trying to extract himself from bed without waking you. Hangman, Bob and Coyote had invited him to play golf, and they had an early tee time.

"No," you moaned and wrapped your arms around him tighter. 

Bradley sighed but didn't fight you. "Just five more minutes, Sweetheart. I'm golfing today."

"You gave me a punishment last night," you whispered against his chest.

"Mm. You forced my hand, Sweetheart."

"You're being extra sweet now."

"Because I love you," he said, stroking his fingers softly down your back.

"Are you sure it's not because you made me squirt, Roo?"

Bradley's grin returned. "That certainly didn't hurt."

He loved how you pouted at him when he finally got out of bed and started to get dressed. You curled up in his spot and watched him. "What time will you be back? We need a bunch of stuff at Costco."

"I'll be back around lunchtime. Then I'll take you to Costco in the Bronco. Nothing will fit in your shitty car, Baby Girl."

"I love how much you hate it. I think that gives it extra life," you told him as he kissed you goodbye. 

Bradley just shook his head and went to retrieve his golf clubs out of the garage, hanging his calendar up again while he was there.

"Perfect," he muttered, standing back to look at it before heading to the Bronco with a bounce in his step. 

Bradley felt great today. He'd edged you until you squirted for him, and then he got a great night's sleep with you. He was in love. You still wanted to marry him. You'd started making plans. Bob could run his foot over again with the golf cart, and he would probably just smile and thank him. 

"Bradshaw," Jake drawled when Bradley arrived. "You look a damn sight better than you did last time I saw you." He slapped Bradley on the back and then lowered his voice, presumably so Coyote and Bob wouldn't hear him. "You and Angel kiss and make up?"

Bradley pressed his lips together so he wouldn't laugh. "Something like that," he said, nodding his head slowly. "We're okay. Made a few plans for the wedding, actually."

Jake smiled and picked up his bag. "I knew she'd come around."

Bradley adjusted his bag on his shoulder and said, "I know you probably said something to her. For some reason she likes and trusts you."

Jake nodded solemnly. "Could be because I am likeable and trustworthy. Could be because she knows I have her back when you're deployed."

Bradley nodded begrudgingly. But he was thankful you had people around who cared about you. "Well...thanks."

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

You yawned and stretched, finally getting yourself out of bed. You felt better now that you and Bradley had managed to clear everything up. A smug smile found its way to your lips; you would be serving confetti cake at your wedding. You couldn't wait to smash some of it into Bradley's mustache on the big day. 

And there it was. You were excited to marry him. He had been right all along. You just needed to talk to him about what you wanted. 

You closed your eyes and sank back against the pillow. Just your close friends and family. A simple yet elegant wedding dress that would look good with Carole's veil. Bradley with multicolored cake smeared across his face. That's all you really wanted.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, so you rolled across the bed to grab it. 

Cam Harvey: impromptu brunch?

Yeah, you could get out of bed for a stack of pancakes. You'd been working hard and not eating particularly well, so this seemed like a great idea. You texted Bradley to let him know you might not be home when he got back from golfing. Then you changed into your jeans and one of Bradley's shirts and went to meet Cam and Maria. 

"Oh, look, she thinks she's hot shit now, because she's going to Annapolis," Cam said as he pulled you into a hug at the restaurant. "Kind of wish I could get transferred to your lab."

"You'd miss me so hard if you did," Maria said as the three of you followed the host to your table. 

After several mimosas and at least a dozen pancakes, you pressed your lips together and said, "Guys, what if I suck at being a wife?" Your friends both turned to look directly at you as you played with your engagement ring and avoided eye contact. 

"What makes you ask that?" Maria set down her fork and tapped your hand until you looked at her. 

Your friends looked concerned enough that you tried to laugh it off. "Well, I made Bradley think I didn't want to marry him, so.... you know how I get with work. I love it, but sometimes I dive too deep. And I have a hard time reeling it back in."

Maria smiled at you. "You'll figure it out. You already got used to his deployments, and you nursed him back from injury. You'll get this sorted out too."

"The fact that you are being forced to reprioritize your life is hilarious to me," Cam told you. "If I were engaged to a man as hot as Bradley Bradshaw, I would never leave my house, let alone go to work. So I wouldn't have any of these problems."

"Aren't you dating a woman now?" Maria asked him as she finished her mimosa. 

"Well, yeah, but I'd break up with her for a sexy guy with a pornstache. Obviously," he told her. And you kind of appreciated that your friends didn't make a big deal about what you said. They seemed to think you would make this work. 

"Wait. Is engaged sex as good as dating sex?" Maria asked, suddenly looking at you like you were some sort of sex guru.

Your cheeks grew warm as you thought about the mess you had made last night. "It might actually be better."

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

Bradley arrived home later than he had expected, and when he walked into the living room, you were sitting on the floor listening to one of the playlists he had made for you and wearing his shirt. Your computer was open next to you, and you seemed to be multitasking. The photos you and he had collected from the storage unit in Virginia were spread out all over the floor, and Tramp was snoozing on the floor where a particularly nice ray of sunlight was warming him. 

"What are you doing, Sweetheart?" he asked after you had barely looked up at him. 

"I'm making your wedding present and emailing my boss. How was golf? Jake texted me and told me you were terrible."

Bradley smiled as he bent to kiss your forehead and watched you shift some of his parents' wedding photos around next to your leg. "Listen, I know I suck at golf. I don't need Hangman to remind anyone about that. How was brunch? And what's my wedding present?"

"Fun, and none of your business yet." You looked up at him and smirked. "Your lunch is on a plate in the fridge."

Bradley toed off his golf shoes and went to wash his hands in the kitchen. As much as he appreciated that you were putting together some sort of wedding gift for him, he wanted to have you touching him. "Will you come in and sit with me?" 

"Coming."

So Bradley ate his lunch with you curled up on his lap at the table. "You tired, Baby Girl?" he asked. "Still worn out from last night?"

You just kissed his scars and whispered, "I'll get my revenge, Bradley. This power imbalance will not last."

He eyed you closely as he finished eating. "What did you have in mind?"

"You'll see."

Bradley drove you to Costco while you wrote out your list. "Paper towels, laundry detergent, lunch snacks, seafood, thick cut steaks...."

"What's the seafood for?" Bradley asked, parking the Bronco near the front doors, but you didn't answer. He followed you into the store, wrapping his arm around your waist. 

He kissed your cheek as you walked past the electronics and stopped in the bakery area to get some muffins. Then you turned toward the refrigerated foods.

"Shrimp or lobster tails?" you asked, holding up one package of each. 

"What's this for, Baby Girl?" he asked again. He inched a little closer to you, but you just shook both items at him until he pointed to the shrimp.

You set the package in the cart and looked up at him. "I'm calling out sick tomorrow, and I think you should too."

"Why?" he whispered. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him tight. 

"Because it's your dad's birthday, and I want to make a nice dinner. Plus I think we really need another day off together."

Bradley's lips were on yours instantly. "You remembered?" he managed to ask between kisses. He pushed you back against the refrigerator case, threading his fingers through your hair. 

"Of course I did." You pulled him against you by his belt loops. 

"I love you," he whispered as he traced his thumbs along your cheek. He wanted to marry you as soon as possible, but he didn't want to bring it up now and press his luck. He'd finally just got you to share some wedding planning with him. 

"You love me?" you asked when he released your lips.

"Is that even a question, Baby Girl? I go to pieces when I'm not the center of your universe."

You bit your lip and smiled at him. "Come on. We have a lot of things to buy."

Bradley pushed the cart and followed you to the laundry detergent. You pointed to a shelf over your head, and with the most devilish glint in your eyes, you said, "Can you reach that one down, Daddy? It's too high for me."

Your words went right to his cock and he was throbbing for you. You bit your lip and grinned as he pressed himself against you, grabbing the detergent jug from above your head and placing it in the cart.

"Mmm, thanks Daddy," you said, seemingly paying no mind to everyone else shopping around you.

He followed you to the next aisle just in time to hear you announce, "We need lots of paper towels for when you get messy at home, Daddy." This time, the guy next to you turned and looked at Bradley with some curiosity. He could feel himself blushing as you bent yourself in half to pick up an enormous package and set it in the cart. 

"This way, Daddy," you told him as you walked backwards to the end of the aisle with your finger crooked enticingly for him to follow. Now the guy next to the paper towels was smirking at Bradley as he walked past, and Bradley just nodded in his direction. 

Bradley pushed the cart behind you, listening to your lewd commentary and appreciating the way you ass looked. 

You turned to look at him over your shoulder. "Do you want a box of 96 granola bars, Daddy?" You picked up the box and handed it to him, but before you could get away, he grabbed you by your waist and pulled you against him. 

A soft giggle escaped your lips as he pressed his mouth just below your ear and whispered, "I know what you're doing here, Sweetheart. You're trying to even out the power balance. But if you keep calling me Daddy in public like this, I'll spank you later for being bad."

Your moan was loud enough that someone turned and looked your way, but Bradley couldn't care less. You pulled yourself out of his grasp and made a dash across the aisle. 

"Do we need these, Daddy?" you asked, holding up an enormous jar of pickles. 

"Why don't you check your list," he suggested. You pretended to scrutinize the contents of the jar before setting it back on the shelf. 

"I think I like the pickle you give me at home better," you announced. "It's bigger." The elderly woman to your left was looking at Bradley, completely appalled. But Bradley just smiled at you, and you smiled back; you wanted him to spank you.

"We're almost done," you told him, running your fingers along his arm as you walked past him. "Just need some batteries for my toys. When Daddy's deployed, I have to play by myself."

This time Bradley was the one groaning as he followed you to the batteries and then the register. You let the cashier scan your membership card before she rang everything up. You eyed Bradley up and down where he leaned on the cart handle. He could not wait to get you back home and get your jeans off. 

"Your total is three hundred and seven dollars," the cashier told you with a smile. 

You bit your lip and jerked your thumb in Bradley's direction. "You'll have to ask my Daddy. I don't have any money."

Bradley literally cradled his face in his palm as he handed the woman his credit card, unable to make eye contact with her. The smug smile on your face on the way to the Bronco had him so needy for you, he popped open the back tailgate and picked you up. 

"I concede. You win, Baby Girl," he told you as he set you down.

"Really?" you asked, pulling him closer by his shirt. "What do I win?" 

Bradley nudged your legs apart and came to stand right up against you. "Let's see... I'll use my oversized pickle to make a mess, requiring a lot of paper towels."

You were cracking up as he rubbed his mustache along the side of your neck. "Did Daddy have fun at the store?"

He moaned and kissed your ear. "You make everything fun. Do you want me to spank you when we get home, Sweetheart?"

"Yes," you whispered. Bradley ghosted his lips softly across yours and caressed your legs through your jeans.

"Mmm," he hummed in agreement. "I'd say you earned it."

Bradley packed everything into the back of the Bronco, kissing you each time before he turned back to the cart for more. Next he carried you to the passenger door, set you on the seat and buckled you in. Then he returned the cart and climbed in to take you, his wife-to-be, to bed.

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

Bradley's dick was hard, poking you right in the belly as you cried out, tears in your eyes. 

It was almost embarrassing how good it felt to have Bradley spank you. You were currently bent over his knees as he sat on the edge of your bed, your jeans and underwear pulled down around your thighs. Every time his big palm connected with you, a moan escaped your lips. Your teeth were chattering, and your eyes were drifting closed. 

"Tell Daddy you want more," Bradley growled.

"I want more. Please, Daddy?" you managed, gasping as you tried to take a deep breath. He ran his fingertips along your stinging cheeks, teasing you before hitting you hard, making you clench around nothing. 

You tried to rub your clit against his leg, but he used both hands to keep your hips still, clicking his tongue and scolding you.

"Keep still for Daddy."

You were ready to cum, but he wouldn't let you. "Please, please, please." Your voice sounded pitiful as you begged him.

One more hard slap, and then Bradley's hand was soothing you, softly rubbing your hot, angry skin. 

"Did you learn your lesson? No more calling me Daddy in front of sweet elderly shoppers and other grown men who would love to have a chance at being your Daddy."

You looked back at him over your shoulder and shook your head slightly. "I hate to break it to you, but I enjoyed every second of this."

"So did I," he whispered, running his hand over your butt until he was teasing your pussy. You squirmed in his lap again as he dipped his fingers inside you. "I enjoyed our time at Costco, and I enjoyed spanking you. And now I'm going to enjoy fucking you."

Bradley pulled you off of his body and pushed you down until you were bent over the bed with your cheek pressed against the duvet. He stood behind you and you could hear him unzipping his jeans. But then you felt his mouth on you. 

"Oh!" you gasped as his prickly mustache and soft lips came into contact with your raw, burning skin. Gently, he spread your legs apart and lapped at your wetness. You knew you were soaked as his tongue slid slowly inside you. 

Bradley's rough fingertips on your skin had you gasping for air and grabbing at the bedding. "I can see my handprints on your perfect ass, Sweetheart," Bradley rasped, peppering kisses there as he rammed his fingers inside you. 

"Feels good," you whined, so turned on you could come on his hand. You whimpered for his soft words and sweet kisses. "You always make me feel good."

And with that, he was on his feet, pushing his length into you and bending so his front was pressing you down against the bed.

"I love you, Baby Girl. Even when you're poorly behaved." And with those words he was fucking you hard, holding your hands in his and stretching you out on the bed. 

When the tears in your eyes tracked down one cheek as Bradley's hips slammed against your sore, aching rear end, you told him, "I'm not going to be able to sit correctly for the next day."

He reached around to gently pinch your clit, and promised, "If you're not good, I'll make it two days."

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

Costco and Daddy and spanking, oh my...

PART 6

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[faketrex]

Slowly but surely approaching the end of this caper... but first, Alex and Henry need to kick off their best friends tour.

To be continued.

...

SHARING A SLICE... part 5

RWRB, rated T, 750 words (this part).

(click here for part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

...

“Alex.”

Blearily, Alex blinks up at the ceiling.

“It's time to wake up.”

The voice is familiar but weird, like listening to a recording of himself. Alex rubs a hand across his eyes and looks over toward the sound of a floorboard creaking. That explains it: his own voice always sounds strange outside his head.

“Go away, Evil Alex,” Alex mumbles. “I'm tired.”

“What?”

“Why no eye patch, Evil Alex? You always have an eye patch.” It doesn't matter. Alex closes his eyes. Since he's still dreaming, he can get some more sleep.

“Get up, we've got brunch reservations and you should shower first. Unless of course you have a fetish for bees? That certainly wasn't on your Wikipedia page.”

“I – bees?”

“Cake contains sugar, Alex. Are you always so obtuse in the morning?”

Cake. Alex snaps awake. He sits up, but Henry-as-Alex has already disappeared through the doorway. “I thought you were my evil dream twin!”

“Your phone won't stop vibrating,” Henry calls back. “Does the name ‘Bug’ sound familiar?”

Fuck. Alex needs to text June – calling would be better if she's blowing up his phone, but June would see through Henry's shitty subterfuge in a second – and then he needs to – “Did you say brunch?”

“We're leaving in thirty minutes.”

Alex showers and brushes his teeth in record time. It's not easy getting clean while trying to ignore, like, all of his borrowed body – Henry's body – but he manages, mostly. Surprisingly, Henry's pretty fit. Alex had assumed all those beach photos were airbrushed.

Back in the living room, he finds Henry wrapped in a robe on the loveseat, scrolling on his phone.

“Why aren't you dressed?”

Henry looks up. “For the same reason you're wearing a towel, I assume. Going through your suitcase would have felt rude.”

“I'll dig out an outfit for you if you get one for me, just try not to – what the fuck did you do to my hair?”

“Nothing.”

“You must have done something, it never looks like that.”

“I didn't–”

“Did y'all ever have guillotines in the U.K.?”

“Charming suggestion, Alex, don't hold yourself back on my behalf.”

Alex keeps his commentary to himself while he's standing six inches away from Henry, trying to fix his hair from an unfamiliar angle, and even while they’re getting dressed – except for some entirely valid criticism of Henry's boring ties – but it's all fair game once they're seated across from each other, pretending to enjoy one another's company.

“You look exhausted,” Alex begins.

“Why, thank you, your royal highness. I didn't sleep much last night.”

“Maybe I should have warned you, I have insomnia.” Alex waits while the server sets down his coffee and a pot of tea for Henry. “I don't know if insomnia is a brain thing or a body thing, though. Hey, does this coffee taste weird? How often do people try to poison you?”

Henry takes a sip from Alex's cup. “It tastes fine. As a world-class insomniac myself, we may never know the answer to that particular question, but it seems we've already determined that taste is a matter of body, not brain.”

“What? How?”

“I don't like coffee.” Henry blinks at him slowly, obviously, like he's waiting for Alex to pick up on a secret code. “Usually.”

“Oh.” They swap drinks. “Anyway, I didn't know royals ate brunch,” Alex continues once he's sipping his Earl Grey and – as if things weren't bad enough – actually enjoying it.

“Alas, man cannot live on ribbon cuttings alone,” Henry quips, so deadpan that Alex nearly snorts. “Brunch was easier to arrange than any other morning appearance, given the spontaneity of today’s... excursion. Shaan is still organizing our afternoon engagements.”

“He's getting everything cleared, right?”

“Of course.” Henry smiles at the server as they arrive with their food. There's no hesitance to it, not like the smiles Alex has seen him wear in photos. At least Henry’s not a dick to service industry workers.

“In normal circumstances, there wouldn't be any public royal appearances the day after a royal wedding.”

“Yeah?” So they're breaking rules by trying to fix everything. Good to know.

Henry nods. “In an effort to avoid stealing attention from the all-important pomp and circumstance, you understand.”

“Well... seems like that ship has already sailed.”

“Boy howdy,” Henry drawls, sipping his coffee. “I do believe you might say we’ve dulled their sparkle.”

Alex can’t help it this time: he laughs. When Henry grins back, Alex isn't even thinking about the cameras.

...

(Part 6)

[finn-m-corvex]

Someone You Loved

Needed a brain break from Whumptober so I wrote this in an hour instead. Haven't listened to Lewis Capaldi for a long time but this song popped up in my playlist and it gave me Jaya vibes so here we are. Kinda similar to Sounding Sea but also not, mostly because I never thought I would write a songfic in my life, but hey, plans change. Literally almost just had a panic attack as I was cleaning this up because I thought I deleted it but nope we're all good. Enjoy everybody!

Words: 2k

TWs: depression, mentions of anxiety, basically all the same stuff as Sounding Sea.

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy

Oh, he was crazy alright. But maybe it was just the hunger talking.

He had never really been one for doing things halfway. Something either got all of his effort or none of his concern and there was very little in-between. Now, he was wishing that he had more gears than forward and reverse; was that why humans created cars with multiple modes? To make up for the fact that they couldn't ever take the stick and pull it back to spare their feelings? Was it all just some sick scheme of taking back control?

No, that was stupid. He let his head thunk against the stone wall behind him, ignoring the bruises littering his skin and the blood welling from the cuts and scratches inflicted across his body. Jay had plenty of stupid ideas already, what was one more?

I need somebody to heal Somebody to know Somebody to have Somebody to hold

And of course, like a goddamn fool he had fumbled it. Fucked it up most likely beyond repair, just because he didn't come with a gearshift to dial his love back. She had known better than any of the others, always picked up on his mood shifts and his anxiety and his everything before he even knew what was going on; sometimes she was even faster than Cole. Before then Jay had never met someone with that ability, because most people would turn a blind eye to him at best and try to hurt him at worst. Kinda like what was happening right now, actually.

She wasn't like most people.

First Master, how stupid was he?

It's easy to say But it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain

He did. Fuck, he missed her so much. He missed the way she made him feel like he was on top of the world, like he could do anything and be anyone. Anxiety couldn't touch him, his insecurities powerless against the encouraging words she would feed him whenever he started to doubt himself. What was he now?

Stuck in a shitty pirate ship with no friends and no way of calling for help after possibly fucking all of them over for what might be the last time.

Well, at least he wouldn't be able to damn them anymore, right?

The ball and chain was heavy on his ankle, and he had to drag it up by hand so he could tuck his knees against his chest, looking up at the bright sky through the grate. His hands were blistered from how much he had been mopping the deck, but it was still much more preferable to Scrap n' Tap.

He tried to imagine how it would sound for her to say 'I love you.'

Now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Jay was still trying to imagine it when night finally fell, a dark blanket smothering out his one light source and casting the rest of his cell into darkness. He couldn't say that he ever had a problem with the dark before now, but the shadows were stretching just a little too much, the corners just a little too obscured and his vision was too fuzzy as it was adjusting to the new level of light. He supposed one of his eyes being basically out of commission wasn't helping.

Tears tried to leave his eyes but he blinked them back, determined not to cry. Nya wasn't here, and Cole wasn't here, and crying wasn't going to change that. He could do this, he could get through it.

Being left to his own devices left too much time for him to start going down memory lane, and he was thrust into the memory of the day when his world shattered apart, the shards gouging holes in his heart to leave gaping wounds that he didn't know how they would heal at the time. His head had been hurting like he had smashed it into the wooden floor of the Bounty, winded as if he just recovered from a bad fall.

He wanted it back. Why couldn't he just have it back?

I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you

He loved her too much to try and push her away again, and yet here he was, keeping her at arms-length when all she wanted to do was get closer and try to help.

Younger him would've rejoiced, reveled in the knowledge that Nya wanted him out of all people, but Jay knew better now. Knew how easy it was to get swept up in the current, to lose yourself in the tide that never quite receded.

To drown in it, because eventually you would forget that you had to keep swimming.

Sleeping was something that didn't come easily to him anyway, but now it was impossible to find. Apparently he had pissed off Mr. Sandman too, as he would spend night after night springing awake from some bad dream or another, only to find some sort of project in this damn lighthouse to keep him occupied. He needed distractions; distractions from how he had left Kai behind, how he didn't protect Zane, how he had damned Cole and Lloyd and Wu and Misako and everyone else in fucking Ninjago-

But mostly? He couldn't stop thinking about he had damned her too.

Now, I need somebody to know Somebody to heal Somebody to have Just to know how it feels It's easy to say but it's never the same I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape

She was right there. Nya was right there and he failed her, again.

Jay shivered in his chair, looking around his parents' trailer to try and find any trace of her. The only thing he could find was a framed photo that he had given his parents forever ago, from before their messy breakup and the fights and the Djinn. From when they were still happy. Sure, they were both smiling, Jay's arm wrapped around her shoulders and her arm around his waist, but...

Were they ever really happy? Or was Jay just too scared to admit that something wasn't right?

He clutched the photograph in his hands, watching as the wooden frame started to crack under the pressure. Maybe it was just because he grew up poor, but the cost of his escape had been too steep; it should've never been her.

It never should have been her.

But it was, and there was nothing he could about it now. The best he could do was hope and pray that his plan to rescue her wouldn't fall through, because he was running out of prayers.

It worked, and the price for that had been steep too. Would the heavy costs and the sacrifices ever end?

Years passed, and against his better judgement Jay thought that maybe it would.

Now the day bleeds Into nightfall

Was it night? He couldn't tell anymore. Slipping in and out of sleep was confusing, to say the least, and he had no idea how long he had spent laying down on this uncomfortable couch before someone would be lulling him back to sleep. Mr. Sandman must be taking pity on him.

And you're not here To get me through it all

But Nya was here; he could hear her voice, whispering to him in soft tones with gentle words, kissing his cheek and then his lips and playing with his hair and trying everything she knew to try and get him back to sleep.

Was he going crazy? Again?

First Master, it really was just like the ship all over again. He didn't remember the voices being able to touch him, though. That part was new. Oh well.

Gotta enjoy a nice dream while it lasts, right?

Why did someone start sobbing when he said that out loud?

I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Jay loved that she loved him, cared for him, trusted him, and he trusted her with his life and his soul. Knowing that she was there at his side always helped him get through the days; he was sure that he wouldn't still be here if something had ever happened to her. They were two halves of the same piece; maybe they didn't quite fit together all the way, but there was nothing they wouldn't do to make it work, that Jay wouldn't do to make it work.

So really, she had to stop doing stupid self-sacrificing shit. But he guessed that he wasn't really one to talk.

But becoming the sea?

And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes I fall into your arms I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around

She was never coming back around. Jay stood outside of the lighthouse, looking out across the ocean and watching as the tides flowed in and out, taking in the rocks just off-shore and the small rip-currents jaggedly cutting through the calm surface of the water.

Jay turned around, feeling the breeze start to blow his jacket into his back. Shutting his eyes, he let his element buzz around him, crackling and fizzing and popping The darkness was something familiar; he knew what to expect when he shut his eyes for too long, and he needed the familiarity no matter how traumatic the origins were. Without hesitating he let himself fall backwards into the surf, the cold water making him freeze up instantly as it washed over his face and into his nose.

He suppressed the natural urge to fight and get his face out of the water.

What was the point when she wouldn't be there to tell him how stupid he was being? To say that he should've worn a thicker jacket, to dry his clothes, to snuggle with him in the bed until he could finally feel his fingers and play with her hair?

For now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

Jay wrote the same words over and over at least once a night. He didn't know why he was fixating so hard on them but he couldn't stop, and even now as his hands were trembling and his hair was dripping seawater onto the pages he was writing the same seven lines again. There was no one there to kiss his cheek and offer him tea and to laugh at how his hair looked like he had been dunked in a mop bucket.

He should've just stayed in the goddamn ocean.

But now the day bleeds Into nightfall And you're not here To get me through it all I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

For some reason, Jay cut out the first two lines eventually. After a while, it just got a little redundant to keep saying that the day would go away and be replaced by the night; at least, that was his best guess for why one day he started writing three lines instead of seven. He read them over and over, again and again, feeling the bitterness and the anger and the sadness consume him from the inside out, and Jay knew that Nya would not recognize the man standing on the beach if she ever decided to walk back onto land one day.

But she never would, and Jay would never get used to the loss that spread through his chest like a disease, a cancer that there was no way to treat.

I let my guard down And then you pulled the rug I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved

[moriartyluver]

ARE YOU MINE PROLOGUE

"SHERLOCK GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

The ravenette sat down on decaying, dusty sofa with a sigh.

"Yeah whatever," He rolled his eyes "You guys know this is my place anyways, don't get too cocky, (name)"

"Isn't this your mother's basement?" John asked from across the room.

(Name) chuckled "I'm surprised your brother hasn't forced you out yet."

Sherlock's brother, Mycroft, was about 7 years older than him and currently working for some government office, although Sherlock described him to have a much more important job than his brother would admit. He even saved him as "The Government" on his phone contacts.

"Oh believe me, come autumn, I'll be gone thanks to that idiot," Sherlock muttered angrily

"Anyways," James interrupted "We did pretty good at that last gig. I think we made about two hundred pounds in total, right (nickname)?"

"It was a children's birthday party. We were playing at one of those soft play centres." She said, narrowing her eyes

"What's wrong with that?" John questioned, his hands wrapped around a couple of drumsticks.

(Name) turned to face him with a glare. "Don't you get it? We have a serious issue with our band image, you dumbfucks."

"Hey no swearing! My mum's up there!" Sherlock warned "And for your information, we are not changing the name!"

"How are we calling our band 'The Baker Street Boys' if our lead singer and guitarist is a girl? It's stupid!" Scoffing, (Name) stood up. "See? When I started this band, I wanted to do something, y'know? Follow my passions, be a little rebellious and make a name for myself, for us!" She said, picking up her brown electric guitar "Instead, we're playing for little kids and using cheap ass instruments like some third rate garage band! Our other guitarist is a mummy's boy who tells people off for swearing, our drummer doesn't even like rock music and would much rather listen to some Frank Sinatra or The Beatles than literally any rock band or something with a little flavour for once, and our bassist doesn't even play the bass! Not to mention the shitty name!"

"The Beatles isn't that bad..." The drummer muttered to himself.

"Oh shut it John." (Name) snapped "My point is, that we don't act like a real rock band! We're just some losers who play instruments and have no purpose in the music industry! I mean, have any of you been on tiktok recently? It's full of wannabe popstars making shitty music and trying to sound like every other artist. I don't want to be following every other quote unquote artist who just makes songs that even rival Dixie Damelio in lack of creativity!"

"She has a point." James agreed with a nod

Her scowl shifted to a determined smile "I have a few ideas on how we can up our game a little and actually be influential, like The Sex Pistols-"

"Yeah but they kind of fell apart pretty quick." Sherlock pointed out "Their singer couldn't sing, their bassist probably killed himself and their guitarist was illiterate."

"And they still made better songs than whatever bullshit you've been cooking up, Sherly." (Name) argued back, pulling out a little notepad from a pocket in her red leather jacket. "Anyways, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I have a few ideas so we can actually make a name for ourselves. First of all, John, stop dressing like a grandpa and put on some eyeliner or something. Same goes for you two," She said, looking at James who was sat cross-legged on the floor, and Sherlock in the sofa. "Sherlock, you dress like a roadman and that's when your mother isn't dressing you. Stop letting her buy you hideous clothes. James, your outfits put Harry Styles to shame. Get rid of those damn shoes."

"But my shoes make me look taller..!" James frowned

"Stop being a whiny bitch." (Name) glared "Second off, we need to start writing out own songs. I've mostly got that covered but I'd like a bit of input every now and then." She turned a page "Number three.." She trailed off "Right, we need to start expanding ourselves a little more. I know we're all loser introverts but if we socialise, we make connections. If we make connections, we can get gigs at proper places and possibly get better venues. I might look into getting a social media manager but I'll just open a tiktok account for the band when I get home, an instagram would work too."

"I thought we didn't want to be tiktok artists?" Sherlock asked with a raised brow

(Name) shook her head "That's different, Sherly. It's just free promo, super easy. It's not like we're singing 'ABCDEFU' or something. I'll just record band rehearsals or announce gigs and stuff. We can probably get at least a few thousand followers. I'll make a spotify too while I'm at it." She took her guitar bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "Alright, band meeting's done for now. I'm gonna go back home before my parent's start wondering where I am. Thankfully, it's not that late though.." She looked at her watch. It was only 3:35pm. She'd come home later before and now that it was summer, it wasn't getting dark as fast. She turned on her heel, walking towards the basement door "Bye!"

Upon returning home, (Name) had noticed it was quiet. Too quiet. She shrugged it off though, returning to her bedroom to hide her guitar under her bed or something, but when she had swung the door open, she heard some whispering, and found her parents stood in her room, all her hidden albums and vinyl's and other music stuff scattered around her now mess of a room.

"What the hell..?" She murmured, stepping over the Arctic Monkeys CDs on her bedroom floor, dumping her cheap guitar on the ground

"Care to explain all this, young lady?" Her father asked, holding up a vinyl in his hand. His voice had an angry undertone which made (Name) chuckle nervously.

"Why are you looking through my room?" She asked, thinking of excuses to defend herself

"That's not your business." Her mother chimed in "Since when did you have all.. this? What else have you been doing?"

(Name) swallowed, approaching her parents in an attempt to take back her record player from beside her father. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Her father clenched his teeth, pointing to her guitar on the floor "Don't tell me you're some sort of musician now! What else have you been hiding?"

"Oh nothing," (Name) said sarcastically "Just some heavy drugs, obviously. Now leave me alone!"

"Can't we at least talk about this? What about university? You know you can't make a living out of this!" (Mother's name) exclaimed, pain evident in her voice

"Can we skip to the arguing now if you aren't gonna leave? It's just a hobby I swear, and besides, being in a band's the only thing I like anyways!" She yelled, gathering a bunch of albums in her arms

"You're in a band? A rock band? With who?!"

"None of your bloody business." She stated coldly "Can't you just leave? This is so counterproductive!"

"The only thing counterproductive is this little fantasy of yours, (Name)." Her father opened up an album, inspecting it as if it was something illegal "You're smart. I don't see why you're wasting your time like this! And with rock music of all things!"

"It's not just rock." (Name) muttered "There's some Lana Del Rey mixed up somewhere here too.."

Her father opened his mouth to speak as he stepped back, but before he could utter another word, a harsh crack could be heard echoing throughout (Name)'s bedroom.

"What was that..?" (Name) whispered, then her mouth flew open in realisation as she looked down at her father's foot "Dad! You have got to be shitting me!"

Her father himself was surprised, but instead of admitting his mistake, he tried to make it seem as though it was intentional, a way of teaching his daughter a lesson. "Y-Yeah.. well that's what you deserve for lying to your parents!"

He had stepped on her guitar, breaking it fairly easily. She had known it was cheap and terrible quality, but the guitar did it's job ad that's all that really mattered, but now it was broken. How could she be a guitarist if she didn't have a guitar anymore?

"(Name)-"

Her parents tried to call out to her, but she was gone. (Name) walked out the room, grabbing her bag and jacket before slamming the door, tears welling in her eyes.

It had been half an hour since she left the band meeting, so reasonably, there was the possibility that the others were still at Sherlock's place, considering they didn't have parents restricting what hobbies they could and could not have. She ran to Sherlock's house, which was only a few minutes away, knocking on the door and wiping her tears with her sleeve.

"(Name)? You're back?" Sherlock said, answering the door

Another voice, with an American accent, followed. "(Name)'s back?"

She smiled as the rest of the band crowded at the door. "Yeah, change of plan. We're going to town now, I need to pick something up from Q's"

"I thought you said Q's cost too much?" James asked curiously

For those of you unfamiliar with British shopping culture, in city areas, there's usually a big shopping centre in the middle, a bit like a mega mall but alot more scattered. Most just refer to it as a 'city centre' or more simply 'town' even though it doesn't make much sense. The streets are busy, with the occasional musician playing a guitar or something and the smell of cigarette smoke is everywhere. These shopping centres are quiet useful, especially in big cities like London, because you can find pretty much everything, everywhere.

Q was a music shop in 'town', run by a German bloke called "Von Herder", but naturally, it was quite expensive, especially because of how good the instruments sold there was, and as an unemployed teenage girl (that's debatable considering she's 18), (Name) couldn't afford to buy a certain guitar she had been dying to buy since she had seen it months ago, hence the surprise of James.

"I'll negotiate my way to a lower price, I'm sure it'll be fine." (Name) smiled, althought she doubted she could.

Sherlock shook his head "No you're not. We have that money from the gig, I think two hundred quid should be enough, after all, you broke your last guitar. I think you deserve it." He offered as they all walked towards the bus stop

"Oh no, really," (Name) waved her hands in protest "It's fine. We said we were gonna split the money equally anyways. I don't want you guys missing out on money too!"

"Yeah well, we only got all that money because of your skills." Sherlock argued back "If you don't have a guitar, we can't make more money and The Baker Street Boys are done for without our lead guitarist."

"Fine," (Name) sighed, before pausing in her tracks "Wait how the hell did you know I broke my guitar?!"

Sherlock had been known for being good at reading people and his deductions were almost always spot on, so (Name) shouldn't have been so surprised

He put a finger to his chin, faux thoughtfully "Hmm... let's see." He mocked "You come to my house again after leaving half an hour prior, and you looked like you were trying not to cry, but your sleeve was stained. Not to mention, most obviously, you want us to come with you to town to buy a guitar?"

Rolling her eyes, (Name) hit Sherlock's shoulder as they, along with John and James, boarded a red bus "Yeah yeah whatever, maybe was a bit obvious."

After about an hour of looking for Q's amongst crowds of people, (Name) eventually found it, although by now, she had spilt up from her fellow bandmates because James had pushed Sherlock into a Victoria's Secret lingerie display and (Name) had ran off, pretending not to know them.

She walked into the store, a nirvana song blasting in her headphones. She looked around for the guitar, browsing around as she attempted to decide which colour she wanted. She picked up a dark red guitar, and it had felt as thought it was meant to be. In fact, she could hear a harmonious piano melody playing in her head.

Wait.

The sound of those piano keys was actually not in her head, but was coming from a grand piano on the other end of the store..?

Taking off her headphones, (Name) looked in the direction of the music. It was Tchaikovsky's Swan lake and whoever was playing it didn't even miss a note. It was, in a sense, perfect. Even (Name) couldn't play guitar that good. Surely, whoever was playing must have been a professional piano player.

At the piano however, she something even more beautiful than the music the stranger was playing. A young man with (very soft looking) blond hair and unique red eyes, concentrating on the keys as his fingers moved in sync to the melody. He looked like he was written by Lana Del Rey, which was rare.

(Name) smiled, walking towards to stranger in an attempt to make some small talk, seeing as Von Herder seemed to be busy behind the counter.

"Wow, you're really good.." she muttered in awe

The stranger perked his head up with a polite smile, almost radiant. "Thank you."

His voice matched his appearance and piano skills, just as elegant as he was. Clearly, he was raised in a wealthy family somewhere in London, probably one of the rich areas like Kensington or Chelsea.

"No, I'm serious. Tchaikovsky is rolling in his grave out of jealousy right now." She said, somewhat nervous "Like if he came back to life and saw you out doing him with his own song, he'd kill himself and die again because of how jealous he’d be, that's how good you are."

The stranger's smile widened in amusement and she could've swore she heard him laugh a little. "That's certainly an interesting way to put it. Do you play any instruments, too, by any chance?"

"Well obviously, if I'm in an instrument shop, I'd hope so." (Name) nodded, gesturing to the piano. "I'm a bit of all rounder. I can do piano, drums and base, but I'm more of a guitarist myself."

"That really is extraordinary.." He complimented "I myself can only really play the piano. I've played a bit of violin too but it wasn't to my taste, honestly speaking."

"You still play really good though. Are you a professional or something?" She asked curiously

The blond shook his head, still smiling "It's just a hobby of mine. I'm more suited to mathematics but I admire the beauty of the piano..the intricate mechanisms..the sounds it's makes..it's an art, if you will."

"Yeah, I get that. It invokes emotion in people, I mean most social movements and revolutions were influenced heavily by music, like anarchism and stuff." She trailed off, then spotted Von Herder back at the counter "I..uh..play in a band. It's not very good but I want to make changes like that too..y'know?"

Surprisingly, he nodded understandingly. "I'm sure you're band is much better than you give it credit for. Do you have a name yet? Perhaps I could-"

"Oh lord, not you again..!" A German voice exclaimed upon spotting (name) "What did I tell you, girl? I'm not trading you the guitar in exchange for an autograph!"

(Name) groaned "That was James idea, not mine, Herder!" She turned to the stranger who had been cut off "We're called The Baker Street boys but Sherly — he's the other guitarist — and I keep arguing about it because I think it's stupid that we're called the Baker Street boys when I'm clearly not a boy, so every time anyone asks, I just say we're called the coke whores even though I don’t do coke and I don’t think anyone in the band does, actually maybe Sherly does I don’t know. I told you the actual name though so that was kind of stupid."

"I see..That's a...lovely...name." The blond smiled, although (name) could tell he was a little taken aback by h the abundance of information. He looked over to the counter. “Are you familiar with Mr Von Herder?"

(Name) nodded, picking up the guitar she intended on buying "Yeah, the band and I come by here sometimes to look at the instruments. James, my friend, bought a bass here last week, but I think he's sick of us by now. Speaking of, I should probably buy this before he accuses me of an attempted robbery." She walked towards the counter slowly, waving at the blond

"Nice talking to you, stranger!"

A/N: omg first chapter. I only started working on this fic yesterday but the ideas been marinating in my brain for a while icl. At least a few months. Anyways maybe that stranger will get another appearance who knows 👀

[thessalian]

Molly!Rook vs the Ossuary

But first, the egg

Solas: So all is well and I am a liar?

Molly!Rook: You're really leaning into that "god of sarcasm" bit, aren't you? Or is it just that sarcasm is one of those ways that you can lie without actually lying?

Solas: .........

Molly!Rook: But in answer to your question that isn't but kind of is? Yeah, Ghillan'nain's playing with Blight. Like, mega-Blight.

Solas: Believe it or not, that is better than I expected.

Molly!Rook: ...Okay, you're gonna need to run that by me one more time.

And, at little conference in the Surreal Estate

Molly!Rook: So then he told me that actually only a little of the Blight leaked out and they want to unleash the rest and ... yeah, glorious tool of creation, yadda.

Neve: So ... wait a minute. You're telling me that the ancient magisters went looking for the Maker in the Fade, saw architecture and decided it had to be the Golden City, and accidentally made a crack in a prison for elven gods and Blight. Blighted themselves, took that tiny shred out with them--

Harding: And that fresco we saw, with the evanuris binding dragons. There's probably something to that. I wonder if that means that the evanuris have the same kind of immortality as Corypheus did with his fake archdemon...

Bellara: Not that this isn't ... fascinating ... but also terrifying, but ... look, anyway, what do we do about it? I mean, I guess we have to do something...

Molly!Rook: We're already on the right track, Bel. We have the dagger, and since you're up here, I figure you have the Vi'revas fixed.

Bellara: Oh! Yeah! Sorry; I was coming to tell you and got distracted!

Neve: Understandable. I'm still reeling a little myself at having to rewrite all those "Blight is the hubris of the magisters" snarks in my head. ...Still kind of is, though.

Molly!Rook: So, have we got names?

Neve: Speaking of magister hubris and what it gets them...

Treviso, in Antiva

Harding: Oooh, pretty market. Do you think we'll have time to pick up something nice for my ma?

Molly!Rook: I'm sure we'll be back a time or five, Harding. First we have to meet-- Hi, you must be Andrateia...

Teia: Teia, please. And you would be Rook. Come with me; we should be off the street to talk.

Molly!Rook: I'd ask for you to call me Molly, but honestly, I'm kind of leaning into the whole "Rook" thing a bit more.

Harding: *side-eyeing Molly a little* Because...?

Molly!Rook: Gender neutral. I'll go by 'she' if I have to, but honestly, it's just ... female for tax purposes.

Harding: ...*sigh* Right.

And, a bit of exposition later, somewhere under the sea or canal or something

Harding: You know ... I've been a surface dwarf my whole life and being in tune with the Stone is a bit weird, but this ... is ... scary.

Molly!Rook: I take it you mean the "being under the sea" part and not the "Venatori bodies literally everywhere" part. Also, speaking of people who kill, is it just me, or were you getting off vibes about that Illario dude?

Harding: His reactions are really off, I have to admit. Think this is a trap?

Molly!Rook: I personally think he's trying to make everyone think he's gritting his teeth and bearing the idea of sending strangers after his cousin when he wants to go himself, but really he's gritting his teeth and bearing the idea of having to rescue his cousin at all but he has to because Grandma First Talon is insisting.

Harding: That's ... worse, right?

Molly!Rook: I figure we're going to surface to bad, yeah. You know. As a treat for after the bad we've dealt with here because I'm reading some shit about enforced abominations-- Oh. Hi.

The 'hi': *is directed at a bunch of Venatori out for blood*

Lucanis: *appears kind of awesomely and murders basically everybody*

Molly!Rook: Well, hello.

Harding: You remember Varric's stories about what happened to Kirkwall, right? And what Anders conned Hawke into doing? Feeling shitty over that is what made Varric take stupid risks in the first place!

Molly!Rook: We're trying to kill gods, Harding.

Harding: I know. Just ... can you not get into a thing with the abomination?

Molly!Rook: I promise nothing.

Lucanis: I am standing right here, you know.

Spite: No, no ... I'm liking this...

Molly!Rook: Look, we're here to rescue you. *glances at Harding* Yes, really.

Lucanis: Need to destroy a vial of my blood and kill the mage who took it from me before we go.

Molly!Rook: One question.

Lucanis: ...Go ahead.

Molly!Rook: Can we rob the place? Harding wants to hit your gorgeous market when we're back topside and I want a shiny new dagger.

Lucanis: ...*little chuckle* As you like. I doubt we will leave any alive to complain.

Harding: ...Do not. Romance. The abomination.

Molly!Rook: You're not the boss of me.

Further into the Ossuary

Lucanis: You are ... very thorough in your robbery.

Molly!Rook: Admittedly I'm trying to see if there's anyone else who needs breaking out of this bubble of suck.

Harding: ...please let them all be monsters. Please let them all be monsters. We don't need another abomination--

Lucanis: I am standing right here.

Harding: Look, you probably didn't hear about what the last abomination I heard anything about did to Kirkwall!

Molly!Rook: And the one before him was actually pretty damn cool and used her powers for good.

Harding: .........

Molly!Rook: I really did get all the stories, Harding. Including about things that Nightingale said about her time with the Hero of Ferelden and a mage named Wynne.

Harding: ...But why, though?

Molly!Rook: Veil Jumpers aren't just explorers and tinkerers, you know. I'm also a historian. Give me all the stories!

Lucanis: Right now we are getting all the demons. Your friend Harding got her wish.

Molly!Rook: Oh, right. *pulls dagger and orb* Time to put this shiny dagger I robbed to some use!

Lucanis: But you're a--

Molly!Rook: *is become skinny death with blade and fire*

Lucanis: ...Mages ... do that?

Spite: I like them!

Lucanis: ...

Spite: So do you, it seems!

Harding: Hey, Lucanis! Gonna help out here?!?

Lucanis: Oh. Right.

Spite: I'm gonna do the bridge thing! Might impress them!

Lucanis: Shut up and kill.

And, a fairly big fight later...

Molly!Rook: Ow.

Lucanis: Now, this is why I thought mages didn't engage head-on. The Crows could teach you a few tricks, you know.

Molly!Rook: ...Awesome! Now, lemme rob the last shiny and then we'll go.

Lucanis: We are sure it is "Rook" and not ... say, "Magpie"?

Harding: That. Is. A. Myth.

Lucanis: All right, all right! You are very uptight about your corvids, no?

Harding: Kind of side-eyeing one a little hard right now...

Molly!Rook: Okay, I got shinies, let's go before this place collapses.

And, above

Teia: They took Catarina!

Viago: You need to stay and--

Lucanis / Spite: Give. Me. Something. To kill.

Lucanis: *shakes head* Gods. You said something about killing gods. That should be challenge enough for me right now.

Teia: Okay, okay, yes.

Harding: Anyone want to tell these people that Illario is seriously overacting?

Molly!Rook: Now is not the "methinks the corvid doth protest to much" time, Harding. We'll help them as we can but dude, I'm not getting into the family nugshit if I don't have to. C'mon, Lucanis; let me show you to the Surreal Estate.

Lucanis: The ... what?

And, at the Surreal Estate

Molly!Rook: So?

Lucanis: It's ... interesting. I like the bed in the pantry.

Harding: There's a bed in the pantry?

Molly!Rook: There's a pantry?

Harding: ...What have you been eating?

Molly!Rook: Leftover trail rations. ...Wait, this means I can cook? THIS MEANS I CAN COOK!

Lucanis: ...You cook?

Molly!Rook: *already peering into the pantry* THERE ARE COFFEE BEANS IN HERE, TOO! SCORE!

Lucanis: .........

Spite: Say it! SAY IT! ...Okay, let me talk to them and I WILL SAY IT!

Lucanis: ..................

Spite: *gives Lucanis a nosebleed and a massive headache*

Molly!Rook: ...Okay, no, that is not okay. I don't know what we can do to de-demon you ... or let Spite back into his natural habitat, whatever, but the physical pain that you're clearly way too used to is not okay.

Lucanis: He'll get bored once you leave.

Molly: And he uses you as a chew-toy for sending us away? Fuck that.

Lucanis: Please.

Molly!Rook: ...Okay, I get you probably don't say that very often, so I'll leave it for now on one condition.

Lucanis: Name it.

Molly!Rook: Make some Antivan-style coffee for the crew who likes it? Like ... say, me. Definitely me. I've been using a battered copper pot over a campfire for awhile and--

Lucanis: You are boiling it?!?

Molly!Rook: Needs must over a campfire, dude! Save me from myself, okay?

Lucanis: *little smile* It shall be done.

Harding: If he cons her into distracting something important while he bombs a chantry, I'm gonna be pissed.

[sadchip]

Rehabilitation Is Bullshit

This fic is nearly 100% based off of an idea @letmerambleplease had.

TW: Lots of cussing, Valentino.

Part 2

Velvette walks into her new room and sighs. She's only been here three days and she misses her linen sheets. Her plushies. And dammit, maybe she misses her friends a little. Not that she'd ever tell them that.

She looks at her luggage. She doesn't wanna unpack this shit. Then again she kinda has to, so…

She picks up her luggage and she pulls everything out, laying it on her bed and shoving her bags in the closet.

She grabs the spare fabric and the notebooks she brought. Just because she's trying to get revenge doesn't mean she's going to get behind on her work. She has a line coming out in a few months.

Despite what some may think she actually does love her job. And her business partners however begrudgingly it may be.

She pulls out her clothes and shoves them in the closet and the dresser.

When she's done putting her stuff away she sits at the desk that's at the front of the room. She's really fucking bored. She pulls out her notebook and a pencil. Might as well get some work done.

But she can't, the ideas are all garbage. She can't get shit done when she's bored. She makes her emotions. The designs will be boring, and that just won't do. She groans and hits her head on the table.

She really should stop doing that.

Suddenly she gets the feeling that she's being watched. She looks around, but no one is there. She shrugs, she's probably gone insane with boredom. Vox will have to pick her up in a body bag.

She chuckles at the thought. She can't wait to have him on his knees begging for her to come back. Maybe she wants to go back a little too.

Not because she misses them or anything… She misses her room. Nothing more, nothing less.

She stands up and sits on the bed, it's comfortable enough. She's about to get back up when she hears a knock. She gets up and answers it.

The Princess is standing there, smiling. “Hey!” She says happily. It's honestly annoying how upbeat she is. “We're going to do an activity, do you wanna join us?”

Velvette wants to refuse, to slam the door in her face. But she's so fucking bored. “Sure, its not like I have anything better in this shitty hotel.” She answers, brushing past Charlie.

Charlie follows her, trying to make small-talk the entire time. Velvette wants to rip her eyes out. Does this bitch ever shut up?

They all sit in the living room. Velvette is in a chair in front of the radio demon. She doesn't get what Vox sees in him. The guys teeth are fucking disgusting, and he smells like shit.

Charlie stands in front of them. “Okay, now that we have somebody new I thought it would be fun to play a game!” She says happily as she looks at everyone.

Nobody seems interested, she either isn't interested or doesn't care, because she just keeps on talking. “Okay, everyone get onto the floor!”

Velvette ends up sitting beside the princess and her girlfriend. Charlie explains that they'll all be playing two truths and a lie to get to know each other.

Charlie starts smiling as she thinks. “Okay… Lucifer is my dad, my eyes are blue, and my favorite color is red!”

Velvette scoffs. This will be a long day.

Around thirty minutes passes and eventually it's Velvette's turn. She thinks for a moment before she speaks. “I died in the late 2000's, I hate the color brown, and…” She smirks, pointing to Nifty. “I watched that one kill an angel.”

Charlie smiles. “Ooh! Ooh! That one!” She says, seemingly proud that she found out the ‘right answer’

Velvette cocks her head to the side, still smirking. “I died in 2012.”

Charlie's eyes widen almost comically.

—

It's day five and Velvette is still bored as shit. She's currently sitting in the lounge area, she's playing on her phone. Angel Dust and that fucking cat are talking at the bar.

Angel Dust has been shooting glares at her every fucking chance he can. Too bad, Valentino would lose his shit if he thought they were hanging out…

She stands up and walks over to the bar, she smiles at the cat guy. “Whiskey.” She says simply as she scrolls through her phone.

He starts making it, mumbling curses under his breath. Velvette turns to Angel Dust, a smirk on her face. She flips her phone to Angel and he chokes on his drink.

On her screen is a picture of Valentino tripping and eating shit on some pavement. He thinks she deleted it, but he doesn't have to know.

“Here's the deal.” She starts, turning off her phone. “You take a few pictures with me while I'm here. It will piss Valentino off. And I'll also give you that lovely picture.”

Angel Dust stares at her for a moment. He smiles and takes the drink that the cat guy made for him without him even asking for it. He drinks it. “You had me at pissing off Valentino.”

AN: Hey, I finally updated this, I couldn't really find a way to improve it, so I just posted it as is. All in all I kinda like it.

[neonscandal]

Just see this in twitter by someone : "I'm starting to think maybe people should read actual BL manga. perhaps considering manga written with actual gay characters in it in addition to shipping m x m from whatever battle shounen you're into."

Like because of those subtext, there can be fanfics and fanarts, right? And then I decided to come here, your blog is really one of my comfort place....

Comfort place!? This makes me want to carve out time to post infinitely more. 🥹 Even though it feels a bit aimless, I’m glad I could cultivate that for you and hope I can continue to do so.

RE: twitter, without context, it's hard to tell whether this person is earnestly recommending people to expand their interests into BL or if they're dumping on people who tend to support and identify queer shipping across other genres.

On the one hand, heavy agree that if you appreciate queer pairings of any kind to absolutely find media and stories that shows healthy (and authentic, if possible!) representation of whatever you're into. I feel like sometimes in BL, specifically, there’s a lot of toxicity or violence passed off as romance which is why I recommend being discerning. Here are some green flag recommendations and I kind of touch on the importance of identity through engaging with queer content by way of BL's featuring fudanshi's there. Isn't always the case, but it's a storyline I appreciate.

If the poster was side eyeing queer ships in "mainstream" or shonen stories... they should grow up. I've been in and out of fandom for like.. 20 years. There have always been people who recognize and popularize queer ships. Back in the day? Characters didn't even have to share the same show, universe or genre to end up in a crossover slash fic on Fanfiction.Net.

Don't get me wrong, I've definitely needlessly explored several crack theories or made off-base assumptions about a story for the sake of trying to guess at where it’s going. But I sometimes question people's competency for reading/watching comprehension when a particularly shitty hottake is making its rounds on social media. Like are we not watching the same thing?

Subtext does exist. I don't know that all authors are as elegant or intentional in its execution but if you're not bothering to consider the possibility, you're potentially missing out on critical pieces of a story you're choosing to invest hours/years of your life into! This isn't simply as it pertains to shipping but also picking up on critical exposition (Attack. On. Titan.) or even questioning whether the information we're getting as the reader or viewer is conveyed with any sort of narrator bias. Yes, this is absolutely a My Hero Academia call out. ✨

Queer coding does exist. Tons of reasons why queer characters aren't always explicitly identified as such. More often than not, there's some form of censorship. Whether at the editing level during manga production or when it comes time for manga/shows to be approved for international distribution (re: information that's lost in translation vs outright decisions to alter the flow of the story). Most glaring example of this that comes to mind is Haruka Tenou or "Sailor Uranus"/Michiru Kaiou or "Sailor Neptune. In addition to gratuitous name changes when Sailor Moon was pushed abroad, several countries would rather portray the two as unusually close relatives despite the clear romantic undertones exhibited whenever they were on screen together. Also, IDK why, but pretty sure I'd seen somewhere that, initially the creator of Naruto did want to canonize Sasuke/Naruto but, truth be told, I've never watched the series and that could have been a fanon theory I'd seen.

Overarching messages exist. Similar to the first point, a story is seldom just a story. More often than not, you're looking at some sort of social critique or opinion that's being expressed or explored through the story. To not bother thinking critically about what you choose to spend time in enjoying is a pretty bland way to miss the point of it.

When all else fails, it's not our fault that the only relationships most shonen mangaka focus on developing is the one between "rivals". That's it. If there were more dynamic characters or literally any consideration toward the depth of intimacy between the main character and whatever tritagonist female lead the male lead inexplicably ends up with (aside from the simple rationale that "she is the girl 🎀"), then maybe fans won't have to hone in on how the only agency, equality and intimacy is between the only two characters of substance. That was a mouthful but so are the overly poetic soliloquies shonen rivals inevitably share about one another.. ✨

I'm guessing this question might be related to the last anon ask about fanfics? I agree regarding the fact that subtext allows for a richer selection of fan art and fics. I think, depending on content, the motivation for reading fics will subsequently differ. For instance, I'm less likely to read fanfics for a romance series even if I sometimes write for them because the source material generally satisfies what I wanted from them. But fix it fics, angst and romance fics for shonen/seinen series'?? I'll definitely pick them up because, 1) there are usually unexplored relationship dynamics in the source material, 2) there are alternative domestic/fluff storylines you'd never see because the genre doesn't allow for it, 3) the canon plot is usually so devastating *cough, JJK, cough* that I need a respite, and/or, 4) the developing plot tends to have a lot of holes that writers can explore to craft uniquely compelling AU's and alternative plotlines that I wouldn't imagine.

Man, it's been a while since I nerded out and really took the time to bang out a rant. I've had so many thoughts bouncing around but just zero time. Thank you for your ask and the reminder that there's someone else out there in the shipping trenches. Stay safe out there, anon!

[sunnyie-eve]

8 | That's a lot

Series: Never Leave You | OBX

Paring: (JJ Maybank x OFC! Rafe Cameron x OFC!)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: mention of abuse, JJ being jealous, unlikely conversation, angst, hinted death

MASTERLIST

"Morning, Callie, you're busy today so you can't leave with JJ." Joey stops them as they walk downstairs.

"We're actually kind of busy today." JJ tells him.

"Too bad. Callie, you're ride is waiting outside to take you." Joey tells her.

"Fine." She and JJ walk out to see Rafe smiling. "He's my ride?" She looks back at Joey standing in the doorway and he nods his head. "Tell Kie and Pope." She look at JJ and he heads off.

"Ready?" Rafe smiles.

"Not really." She goes with him and they head out to this random house because it wasn't the Cameron's. "Rafe, why am I with you?" Callie asks as he takes a seat.

"My dad asked for help from Joey about me. My dad said if I spend a few hours with you and you tell Joey we had fun, he'll let me back into the house." He picks up a beer.

"You expect me to lie? Because I'm not having fun and don't plan on having fun with you." She takes a seat far away from him. "Why are you such a dick?" She asks him after a few minutes of silence.

"I'm not. I'm completely a normal person."

"You're not? Okay. So you're not violent, unstable, and troubled. Physically aggressive towards others. You're not a cocaine addict that appears to suffer from some severe form of psychosis. You don't obsessively seek for your father's attention and favor. Yeah, you're a completely normal person, Rafe." Callie gives him a smile.

"So I may have a drug problem." He groans.

"May have? No, you 100% have one. When did your drug abuse start?" She asks him starting to annoy him.

"That's none of your business."

"If I'm stuck here for a few hours with you... I think I would like to get to know you." She gets up taking the beer out of his hand to drink.

"A few years ago, I think. I don't exactly remember when. And I hate how you know all those things about me you listed off. But you missed one good thing. I may argue with Wheezie at times but I get along better with her. We bond over the fact that Sarah is our dad's favorite. I have some empathy when it comes to her." He looks at Callie as she sits down. "I wish I could be better and just make my dad proud of me but it's impossible to be the man he wants me to be when I have a drug problem."

Callie actually started to feel bad for Rafe which she hated because he has beat the shit out of JJ and Pope. "You know getting help isn't that bad of an idea. You have your whole life ahead of you still and you're just flushing it down the toilet way earlier. I know living in a shitty family setting is hard." Rafe gives her a look, "And I mean behind closed doors. Not lifestyle wise."

"How was your life shitty?"

"My father verbally abused me and he did the same to my mother. He never laid a hand on us... until one night he snapped trying to murder my mother. He went to prison, she ran away leaving me behind, and my aunt got custody over me. I had to move away from here to go live with her and Joey. I thought I'd finally be free of the abuse but I didn't. Joey is worse than my father. Verbally and physically abusing me and my aunt. He's harassed me in all kinds of ways. I've gone through all of that and still going through it and never once turned to anything or turned violent."

Callie tells him looking down at her hands and Rafe stands up to sit next to her, "You got it worse than me, Cal." He chuckles so she looks at him.

"Thanks for laughing." She downs a beer.

To pass the time the two just drink and get high hoping it would make the time go by faster. Callie just wanted to go home or back to her friends. "Why are you looking at me?" Callie sees Rafe staring at her out of the corner of her eye. "Hello." She turns snapping her fingers in front of his face before he smashes his lips on hers.

She tries to push him away but he was overpowering her as he leans her back. He forced his tongue into her mouth without hesitation as she was still trying to get him off her. She hated to admit but he was a good kisser. Slowly she gave in and when Rafe pulled his mouth away from hers, Callie finally shoves him back standing up leaving him.

"Callie!" Rafe rushes after her.

"Leave me alone. I'll tell Joey we had fun but I started to feel bad." She says walking away with him following still.

"Callie!" Rafe yells so she stops walking to face him.

"What do you want?" She shouts at him.

"You."

"Me?!" Callie laughs at him as he walks up to her, "Well you can't have me, Rafe. Just because we had one sorta decent conversation doesn't mean shit. I still don't like you because you're a shitty person." She backs away and walks away ignoring his yelling this time.

Callie goes home telling Joey they hung out having a good time getting to know each other but she started to feel back so she came home.

In her room her aunt walks in shutting the door behind her, "How was it with Rafe?" She takes a seat in her bed.

"We had one kinda decent conversation then he forced himself on me kissing me." Callie gives her a smile.

"I'm sorry." Tess apologizes to her.

"It's fine. He's not a bad kisser." Callie laughs to make it not feel as bad.

"I know you love being with your friends but don't leave the house today so Joey can calm down some. Please." Tess gives her a look so Callie nods her head.

For the rest of the day. Like stayed home like she was told to. It wasn't until late at night JJ came through the door groaning, "You missed a shit ton of stuff by the way. Ward killed John B's dad. He's slightly missing. Pope and Kiara argued over John B since Pope has his interview tomorrow. For once I had to step in and take responsibility. How was your day?" JJ plops down onto her bed.

"We just drank and got high to pass the time. We had one sorta decent conversation. Oh, and he kissed me again when I tried to push him off of me." She gives him a smile as she was going through her closet.

"Rafe kissed you! And you said again?" JJ sits up quickly.

"He tried the night of Midsummer. He kissed me last night and today." Callie rolls her eyes.

"That's fucking asshole. You're my girl no one else's." JJ makes Callie laugh walking over to him.

"I'm your girl?" She stands in front of him.

"Yeah." He wraps his arms around her waist looking up at her.

-

In the morning, Callie, JJ, and Kiara head to John B's for him to tell them he went to Tannyhill but finds the gold completely gone. Cameron Construction units were outside the house letting him know Ward was definitely the one who took the treasure.

"Guys!" Pope runs to the others at the dock, "Oh, God. I ran all the way here." He bends over out of breath before mentioning Ward and the airstrip and the plane

Back on the plan to steal the gold they watch from afar. The group watches Sarah and her dad butting heads before Ward forces her onto the plane. John B immediately drives through the fence making the group yell what the hell was he doing. John B drives and blocks the runway, forcing Ward to stop the plane.

"Guys, I can't get arrested." Pope says as police sirens are heard.

"I'm on probation." JJ adds.

"Look, we're no good if we're all in jail." Kiara tells the group so they run off leaving John B.

While they wait out they see the plane fly over causing Pope to break and brake everything. Kiara kept yelling his name but Callie told her he needed to let it out.

"I was wondering when this was going to happen. Here you go, chef." JJ holds out the vale of weed to Pope, "A little weed never hurt no one." Pope takes it since he lost his scholarship.

John B shows up so they rush over to him to see his hands bloody. Later in the day John B after telling the group what really happed he decided to go to the sheriff's office to report what happened.

"Start the car, Kie! Go! Go!" John B jumps back in making the others panic and drive off. All night they hide out in the car to avoid the police looking for John B.

"So, um... okay, bad news. The ferry's closed, and there is this." Pope shows them the wanted flyer, "Okay, so the whole island's lookin for John B right now."

"That's a lot of money. Literally anyone will turn you in for that. Any Pogue would too. Wait, JJ, does your dad still have the cigarette boat? The Phantom. The one he used to race." Callie asks him.

"Maybe."

"Great, let's give it. You can get right I'm the coast, no problem." Pope starts the car.

"It's not going to be easy, Pope. I don't know where the keys are." JJ tells him while Pope makes a scene saying he's so high.

"Your car's on the poster." John B speaks up and Pope honks the horn getting people's attention pointing out John B so Pope takes off.

"I should be the last to say this, but you are not okay to drive. Stop!" JJ shouts at Pope so he slams on the breaks.

"John B, get out." Pope looks back at him.

"He's right. We'll draw the cops, you run. I'll get the rig, and I'll meet you in the dump tomorrow, okay. Three o'clock." JJ says as John B gets out taking off.

Pope and JJ get high while they keep driving around pissing Kiara and Callie off.

"Pull over!" Kiara yells so Pope does as he said making JJ laugh so Callie glares at him.

"JJ, it's not funny, he shouldn't be driving." Callie says as Kiara gets out of the car.

"Mama's mad." He smiles holding out the blunt to her.

"No. Stop it." She pushes his hand away as Pope climbs over to the passenger seat for Kiara to drive to the Camerons for Sarah.

Pope goes with her while the other two wait at the car, "Come on, relax some." JJ massages Callie's shoulders as they stand outside the car.

"Relax? Our best friend is wanted for murder while the real killer is in that house but no one will believe the truth." She moves her shoulders so he turns her to face him, "Don't look at me with those eyes."

"What am I doing?" He smiles resting his forehead on hers, "Callie, I love you. I've loved you since the day I saw you in kindergarten but was too scared to talk to you until the fourth grade when John B started talking to you."

"JJ, it's not exactly the right time to be doing this. We need to focus on helping our best friend then our feelings for each other. Trust me, I want this but we need to wait and you're incredibly high right now." Callie holds his face in her hands.

"I just wanted to tell you." He holds her before the other two come back and head to The Wreak to spend the night.

-

While Pope goes to get gas for the boat, the other three pack up food for John B's trip off the island. As they head out Kiara's parents show up asking where was she.

"Where you even going to tell us? Callie, and your aunt Tess is worried about you and JJ." Anna tells the girls before trying to stop them from leaving.

Callie and JJ felt bad as Kiara kept apologizing to her mother as she gets in the car to drive off to JJ's place. Kiara asks if he wants them to go with him and he said no as they pulled up to his place.

As he gets out of the backseat the girls watch him go inside the house, "So you two?" Kiara speaks up so Callie looks at her, "You two are a good match." She smiles.

"He told me last night he's loved me since kindergarten before I even knew he existed. But I agree with you, just right now isn't the best time to get together. John B needs us to focus on helping him." Callie looks back towards the house.

"I agree." Kie says as JJ gets back in with the key so they head off.

When they get to the boat Kie didn't think it was a junker after JJ takes so well about it. "Really? She's right there, Kie. She can hear you. Let's just put it this way. You would not be smokin weed right now is she never existed, okay?"

"You talk like you love this boat more than Cal. And yeah, I know. It's obvious." Kie smiles at the two and they think Pope showed up.

"Hey, there. What's goin on? JJ. How you guys doin?" Rafe walks in, "Nice to see you again, Cal."

"You look like shit, Rafe. Can't get your hands on your cocaine?" Callie says as Barry walks before pointing a gun at JJ.

"See, don't think I forgot about me and you in the side of the road. I'm here because I want my motherfuckin money." Barry hits him.

"JJ! JJ!" Callie goes to help him so Rafe moves her and Kie away asking for John B.

"I don't know!" Kie slaps him across the face then says she knows he killed Peterkin making him grab her by the throat.

"Rafe! Let her go." Callie shouts so he shoves her far with his other hand and she sees Pope show up. The boys overpower Barry and Rafe so they rush to get away with the boat.

When they have the Phantom ready for John B, he shows up but Sarah wasn't there at the dock so John B had to leave for the sake of time.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry for basically... throwing us off a cliff with this whole treasure hunt thing." He tells his friends and they say they love him.

"You okay?" JJ asks as they walk away a few feet as John B left.

"Not really but he has to go." Callie takes his hand into hers and they see Kie and Pope kissing, "Thought no Pogue on Pogue macking?" She giggles looking at JJ.

"The rule has already been broken a few times." He smiles as cops show up pissed that John B is out on the water.

The four are taken having to go wait at the base being watched. JJ held Callie's hand as they just sat around when their friends were being search for. Once the power on the island came back on, they spotted the boat so boats went fret the two. The only option John B had was to drive out into the storm, so when it settled down they had a search team go out to find them.

"Did you find them?" The four walk over to Shoupe and other deputies.

"No."

"So they got away?" Kie asks.

"We, uh... we lost them. I'm sorry."

"You lost them? What do you mean you lost them? Like, they're gone? What are you talking about?" Pope asks worried.

"They took an open boat into a tropical depression, Pope."

"So they're dead? Callie asks.

"We don't know."

"You drove them straight through the storm, man! Are you kidding me? Come here, man! I'm gonna kill you, you bastard!" JJ grabs Shoupe so a deputy pulls him away and Callie tries to calm him down.

"Please stop, JJ. Please." Callie starts to cry so he calms down pulling her into a hug as Kiara's and Pope's parents come in to go comfort them.

"Thank, god!" Tess rushes into the tent going over to the two wrapping her arms around JJ and Callie, "I'm so sorry. I know, it's hard." Tess rubs their backs as they cry.

[silver-wield]

I want to wash my eyes, today I saw for the first time the indoctrination files c/rith gives to their audiences. I saw a new player waving it around as proof. Selected ultimania quotes and of course, essays. I like how they write down ways to argue with clotis and zeriths. Such as, "if they say C isn't himself as soldier C, tell them A is the only one who can bring out the "real" him as shown in part 1". They keep repeating the "real" part again and again and trying to emphasize the appeal of the crackship which is ~healing~

No wonder they thrown toriyama away for directly stating C only shows his real self with T ONLY and unlike them I'm not going to put " marks on the word real. And no wonder they hate T with a burning passion because she actually does heal him.

If they include AC and say she heals there? First, C's ultimately the one who forgave himself of his guilt, let's not forget that because they like to erase that part and that everyone, T, A, and Z are part of that process of reminding him that it has to be him. And geostigma is her direct responsibility as a steward of the planet nothing singled out there.

They like to manipulate and rely on the player's laziness to look for information (what are they? Fucking Jenova?). Even to give ways to "fight" back. No wonder they all sound the same. Ugh I just realized the existence of LTD and ship wars in FF7 is giving the illusion that nothing is canon even if CT have more sources than any other ship in FF franchise. It gas lights them into thinking nothing is canon even if it's quite literally right in their faces.

P.S. I fcking hate with a burning passion how anybody gives interpretation essays as proof. Or media tropes and fan service as proof of canon. No wonder sometimes I see some former C/As getting angry at their creators because what they have are only interpretation instead of in game content.

Yeah they all have this weird shared doc they use to argue from that's basically just more lies and bullshit because it's all incorrect info and shit translations they skewed in their favour.

At no point does it say anywhere that aeri brings out Cloud's real self.

It's this quote they lie about. They claim Cloud being "conscious" is him being his real self while Tifa wants a soldier or whatever garbage they make up to ignore the proper text.

I could go into a whole thing over AC using the script and ultis to show what those idiots claim is total bullshit, but the short version is Aerith didn't do fuck all except trigger Cloud's trauma. She wasn't actually present for most of the film, even in the scenes she's shown in, and she didn't cure geostigma.

Ideky the devs put those stupid ribbons on everyone for someone they knew for three weeks two years previously. It makes no fucking sense to be mourning still.

I really want a rewrite of AC. It needs fixing so badly.

I'm honestly so tired of people acting like Aerith is bigger than god and nobody's allowed to say anything bad about her. She's not even a good character. She's selfish, spoiled, her job role in battle can literally be taken by every other character, she doesn't listen to anyone, whines, acts like she's the leader and everyone should do what she says because she exists, she harasses Cloud in ways that are so not ok but because she's a girl and "cute" she's somehow exempt from consequences, and people constantly put their feelings on her feelings alone on Cloud and turn him into a two timing pos douchebag because they and she refuse to fucking listen to the literal protagonist.

I'm actually annoyed we're stuck with her for the entirety of Rebirth. I was hoping we'd get rid of her halfway through at the most, but nauuu we get 40hrs of stupid ass sidequests that include flower picking because the devs think that's good content and one way or another they will make us put up with her.

Well, I ain't putting her in my party and I ain't doing her shitty sidequests, and lucky me, idgaf about trophies so it won't even matter that I don't platinum the game 🤷

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Tag Game Thing

ayyyye another one (but not one from when I was drifting in the timeless void of Conceptually Tuesday), got tagged by @chthonicsiren , gonna tag @melthedwarf because I can >:) (edit: tagged the wrong person first cuz tumblr autofilled the url, sorry!)

1: Are you named after anyone? Yes! My birth name/not-quite-deadname is a tribute to my ma's maiden name. Without saying what either are, I'll just say that her maiden name followed a patronymic format (ex: Johnson), and my birth name is one of the feminine variants/related named (ex: Johanna?). My chosen name, Jordan Van Daalen, is a fun one! My friend and I were in drama class together, and were paired up for an assignment where we had to write a short script (we were given random phrases to start and end the scene with). We're both Huge Fucking Nerds, so we went Overboard, basically fleshing out both of our characters (and then we napped on each other). Jordan Van Daalen was what a random name generator gave me for my character. Less than a year later I realized I am some sort of non-binary, and decided to use that lil name as my future name, as well as eventual pen name :D

2: When was the last time you cried? Uh. Okay, so, like... sometimes when I'm really tired but can't sleep, I'll start improvising a little song? Just, like, whisper singing to myself? And it usually ends up being an emotional ballad about old traumas (or, you know, stuff from whatever media I've been binging)? also when I yawn my eyes water a tiny bit? so what I'm saying is that every time I can't sleep and end up singing dumb little songs, I end up crying. how often does that happen, you ask? well, buddy, I picked this url for a good reason. (it was probably yesterday)

3:Do you have kids? Does being the oldest in the friend group (and also being the dad friend) count? because I am the Father of some of these gremlins. no? oh. well, I am going to an auncle/ent soon, so that's close enough :D

4: Do you use sarcasm a lot? Depends on my mood? I'm less sarcastic than my brother, but definitely more sarcastic than either of my parents. I know that means nothing to any of you, but hey, that's my answer.

5: What's the first thing you notice about people? Uhhhhhhh if they give off gay vibes asdfghjkl; Honestly it varies, which I feel like is a given? I look for things that stand out- colored hair, piercings, if they have any jewelry, etc.

6: What color are your eyes? Okay, well, my ID says hazel, I used to describe it as "hazel green/green hazel", and I think a poet might describe my eyes as something like "sea foam green around sandy brown". However, a Certified Dick could just as easily call my eyes "snot green with a pinch of yellow". Could also just shrug and go "muddy green?". except in some lightings the "green" part seems like it might be vaguely blue, and I have been slowly driving myself insane trying to figure out a consistent color palette I can use when drawing self portraits/inserts because I can't get a decent pic of my eye to use a reference and I'm too awkward to ask someone (with less shaky hands) to do it for me. anyway, I spent ten minutes drawing what is arguably the best attempt I've ever made at making an accurate portrayal of my eye color:

7: Scary movies or happy endings? Generally speaking I prefer happy endings, but it feels weird to separate that from scary movies. However, I don't tend to watch many genuinely scary movies? I like horror comedies. I also very much enjoy watching shitty/low quality horror movies and roasting the fuck out of 'em. Humor is part of how I cope with actual scary movies/games too, though. That and pretending to try and scare the monsters :3 running through the scary dark hallway going "a-boogily-boogily-boo!" and rapidly snapping the camera from side to side like I'm jumping out at people. the monster goes rawr? I SAY IT LOUDER

8: Any special talents? I mean, I think most folks who follow me on here know that I've got a bit of talent in several types of art/creativity (music and writing are probably my big two)? But I can also beatbox a little, my arms are weirdly flexible (possible double-jointed at the shoulders?), and I am surprisingly good at picking things up/throwing them with my feet. That last one is 50% for throwing dog toys and 50% for picking up small things I dropped when I don't want to bend over. Weird? Yes. A talent? Probably not.

9: Where were you born? I think I was born in Seattle, WA, USA. It was definitely in the Seattle area, it just might have technically been a neighboring city.

10: What are your hobbies? Other than the aforementioned artsy shit, I play a lot of video games, in a variety of genres. My favorites are probably the Mass Effect series, Fallout: New Vegas, Persona 5: Royal, Horizon: Zero Dawn, and Spider-Man PS4. I need you to know how difficult it was for me to not list over a dozen games. Please understand. THERE ARE SO MANY GOOD GAMES FUCK. Also, idk if it super counts as a hobby in other people's minds, but I love LEGOs! My room is filled with them :D

11: Have you any pets? None that are, like, fully legally mine. My household has a dog, Bella, but I am unfortunately her least favorite. She loves letting me give her chin scritches first thing in the morning though :')

12: What sports do you play/have you played? KENDO, BITCHES. GET SMACKED WITH BAMBOO

13: How tall are you? Soooooo tall. Massive. Giant. A true, genuine image of a Viking Warrior.. ... ..... in other words I'm 5 feet and 3.5 inches. the .5 is incredibly important to me. On a good day with boots I can almost pass off as 5'5" tho, soooooo. I'm also built like a shit brickhouse (yes I know that's not the correct saying), so at least tall people can't throw me (I throw them)

14: Favorite subject in school? Three-way tie between English/Language Arts, Drama/Theatre, and Art class!

15: Dream job? Writer, artist, all around generally a Professional Nuisance. Maybe taking the place of a forgotten, half-dead God at a lonely shrine, slowly restoring it until it's something worth remembering, eagerly having unforgettable conversations with the rare passerby, never gaining enough fame or worship to have any real power over the world. Just enough to be a face that lingers in your memories, in your dreams, the little voice you hear when you need it most.

[little-elf-wanders]

I made a post a few years ago about white people wearing dreadlocks, I was very angry as you could tell by my swearing every three words and a lot younger. (It's in my dna, sorry.) I still stand by it, I just didn't articulate it right. So, allow me to explain my thoughts there. I'm not speaking out to be a justice warrior or to speak for POC.

I was furious because people like to use historic accounts from Roman's of all people that point to Scandavian's and Celt's having braids. I got a few notes very angry at me for saying this. One even said something about how I wasn't my forebears. One ironically pointed out to me about braids being a thing. I never once said braids weren't, so I'm still laughing since this whole thing is about dreadlocks being excused as braids.

But mostly what was argued was 'culture appreciation'. Cultures all over have some significance with locs, which is true, just not white folk. To the person who mentioned the greeks; those were braids and a lot of them were darker in skin tone, hair colour and eyes. So I don't really know why you're pulling that culture out your ass like it's a gotcha card.

You love to argue for every reason to wear them without actually looking up why POC wear them. That's just really weird to me. For some it's spiritual, for some it's roots back to their ancestors. I got just the tiniest taste of someone slapping my own culture back in my face and got angry. I can't imagine hearing it endlessly.

I think the arguments I've seen for white people with dreads have been extremely shallow and entitled, when it's for fashion and out of not wanting to tend to your hair as often, yet a POC will get judged immediately. I severely doubt any thought goes into that. I'm all for breaking down barriers between us, but to do that we got to fucking try to understand. Not just take it.

I'll be honest, my voice here doesn't mean shit. It truly doesn't. I have - literally - no ties to dreadlocks. Do I love a good braid? Absolutely! This is where my argument came in, I'm very proud of braids, it feels more deeply rooted in my heritage to appreciate braids. But I know the difference between a braid and a loc - which a lot of the people noting me don't. Appreciation is fine when you know the weight and history of the new trend you've picked up. But also just knowing how to be accepting why to some it'd be considered shitty as hell. For one, I can't get over the fact POC will be judged for theirs, yet apparently the whites can just do it cause white. That doesn't sit well with me at all. I've been trying to be more reflective about those things and especially if something is spiritual for someone or religious. It especially didn't sit right when people used baseless excuses like mentioning vikings and ancient celts. The celts whole history was basically stamped out so it's not a good excuse and that's what I'm angry at.

Again, my voice doesn't hold weight. I just hate the excuses. If POC don't mind it, that's one thing. My anger came from a place of my roots having been stolen and twisted, even the religion itself. Cernunnos was turned into the Christian's devil to snuff out paganism and they basically cherry picked our traditions and festivals then villainised the rest. I was deeply angry and have been working through that. A lot of my own history wasn't taught to me in school, either. I don't even know my own language. I had to search it out for myself. I got a basic rundown then it was a heavy focus on England or WW2. So, I got very heated in learning they were saying 'braids' were the equivalent to dreadlocks and using us as the 'okay' signal. We're not. I still think it's weird for us to wear dreads. Do whatever you want but if you get offended by my white ass saying it's weird, that's fine too - they're your choices. My only reason for bringing this out the dirt was just because I realised how deeply hurt I was back then and using the only medium I had to use my voice, which was loud and aggressive. And I feel like... my early anger on taking cultures isn't even a ripple on the bigger issues. I don't know enough to delve into the full optics, even with years of trying to clue myself up. So, I'll just leave it there and hope a years buried post can be better understood today by a much older me.

[nathanierblog]

Your tone is not productive to having a level headed conversation. So I'll be ending the conversation after this reblog. (Which I will do on my main because I don't want to clutter my art blog with nonsense.)

We're clearly not getting anywhere and will have a difference of opinion. That's okay. You can believe what you want about my OC art. And I can know the ACTUAL truth about it because....its MY OC ART.

You're chasing clout or conflict, and me reacting just spurs it on.

I'll be blocking the lot of you after this.

I've also edited this post to make it shorter. You don't care about info. So I never should've even bothered replying to this. I'm a fool for succumbing to such a dumb impulse.

I'll be leaving all this here (just edited to be shorter) to show how disrespectful people like you guys can be to artists who just want to share what they create or is important to them.

I'm gonna summarize the issue:

"Nat! Your old OC looks like my Favorite Video Game Character's AU design! You stole it and you can't change my mind!" Okay? I didn't but you won't hear me out. Get off of my page and don't look at my OC then?

It ABSOLUTELY wasn't just a dumb weeaboo child making an OC just like his own favorite characters and series. It was a random stranger kid who instead, 17 years ago copied that YOU like and won't admit to it! HA! Gottem!

You're projecting WAY too hardcore.

But I'll still debunk all of your "art theft" bullshit because frankly, that's rude.

Well known mangaka Gosho Aoyama did not create a weeby fox. I PROMISE you.

Google "Detective Conan Cel" There's the source image. We're done here.

It's not from arttail. I doubt they hosted images of animation cel collections or sales. It's a photo our scan of a cel with no background, not even a screenshot from the series.

Arttail looks to have hosted a variety of images, especially sonic stuff. I doubt cels were listed, or any of my old art is up there but if it was, I'd LOVE to have .pngs of my lost digital art.

They have a twitter if you want to ask the actual original site owner about it anything you've tried to say was sourced from their old website: https://twitter.com/Artie_P

Pick a Time period!:

Basic math: 2023 - 17 years = 2006. Overalls? 2009+

You're not here to discuss design development though.

You're here because you've convinced yourselves I'm some kind of art/design thief.

Are you saying Mika Kawamura drew THIS in any way shape or form? Child me would be honored. But no. I, a fucking idiot middle-highschooler drew it.

The line quality is nonexistant, made by the pen tool in Adobe Photosop CS3 extended (not Illustrator). I IMITATED Mika Kawamura. I just wasn't good enough to imitate her art particularly well. It's a raster image by the way. Look at the mediocre coloring in the eyes and hair. It screams basic Photoshop Soft Brush and coloring with the color dodge/burn tools.

I actually digitized a pencil drawing I drew myself. which I could go hunting for but.

You dont respect me as an artist enough to let me share it. You want me to be an art-thief. I can't change your mind. Why bother?

So If you found the "sources" of the above images that I drew

Please link me the exact webarchive posts from teamArtail where it was apparently posted it. Why would a sonic or anime fansite have my shitty oc art on it? If they have the .png or even a crunchy as hell .JPEG saved of my old art I'd GENUINELY love to have it backed up with my other old art though, legitimately. It'd have my old ugly dA watermark but still.

Reverse image searching results

It's just overalls.

What comes up? My accounts. I'm the one who drew it.

Would you like to see the working file? Rough sketch, layers, fx, adjustments and all?

I went ahead and shared ALL of his inspirations but you're stuck on the fuckin overalls & bandaids & now youre trying to use sources of inspiration as some kind of "gotcha!" jab to imply I am an art thief.

You're moving the goal post. This post is a dumpster fire.

But you're not willing to have a discussion other than "I THINK UR STEALING!!11!" as if this is DeviantArt art-theft drama callout journals in the year 2008.

First I copied Puyo Puyo. Then I stole the character design from...Gosho Aoyama? And that Mika Kawamura, a shoujo mangaka... drew and colored THAT amateur piece?

Nah.

How dare someone unintentionally come up with the same boring simple idea of "fox kid wearing generic kid clothes to indicate that it is in fact, a kid" as your beloved Sonic Team.

So many kids made orphan fox OCs after watching Naruto. It's not particularly original in the first place. Confidences happen. It's a basic character idea with basic common design elements.

My very fist OC I made when I was smol. The ABSOLUTE GRIP Shoujou Manga art styles had on me with this SPECIFIC OC when I was a child was INTENSE. He was just a lil cinnamon roll.