caubool

[caubool]

Round 2: "French poodle"

[caubool]

Love the comments going “omg this fic is STILL UPDATING??” Thanks stranger i see you didnt have faith in my demons. fortunately, they persist regardless of your expectations! and so do i

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Writing Description Notes:

Updated 9th September 2024 More writing tips, review tips & writing description notes

Facial Expressions

Masking Emotions

Smiles/Smirks/Grins

Eye Contact/Eye Movements

Blushing

Voice/Tone

Body Language/Idle Movement

Thoughts/Thinking/Focusing/Distracted

Silence

Memories

Happy/Content/Comforted

Love/Romance

Sadness/Crying/Hurt

Confidence/Determination/Hopeful

Surprised/Shocked

Guilt/Regret

Disgusted/Jealous

Uncertain/Doubtful/Worried

Anger/Rage

Laughter

Confused

Speechless/Tongue Tied

Fear/Terrified

Mental Pain

Physical Pain

Tired/Drowsy/Exhausted

Eating

Drinking

Warm/Hot

[caubool]

Rin felt his smile threaten to crack and forced it back as wide as it could go. "Come on, our souls literally got tied together! I'm pretty sure that's as clear as you can get."

"That just means we're currently tied together. We can't say for sure anything about what was true before it happened, just that it's happening now."

He had settled nicely into his 'logical' persona, Rin thought. Back straight, chin up, and jaw set. It was almost enough to hide how his eyes kept flinching away every time they tried to settle close to the demon in front of him. "Would it be that bad?" Rin asked. His voice staying light and happy. "If we were actually for-real soulmates?"

He doesn't want to hear Suguro's answer to that. Too bad, though. The other man looks up and finally meets his eyes. Brown to blue, log to fire. "Yeah, it would be." Suguro said.

AnE Fic WIP

Context: It’s an adult Bonrin AU mission fic where angels are displeased with the progress in the fight against Satan and decide to intervene with their world-ending trumpets. I’ve been slowly chipping away at this over the past week and I wanted to post a short snippet of what I’ve got so far!

Standing on a raised platform and talking with a few other exorcists was Yukio, looking composed as usual, though there was a crease of discomfort between his brows.

“OY! YUKIO!” Rin called out. His brother jolted at the volume, but something about his face eased at their approach. Once they were close enough to talk, Rin started. “Do you know what this is all about? A secret society announcing themselves? Satan showing up somewhere?”

Yukio’s face did that thing it always did when he couldn’t decide if he should be disappointed or fuming mad. He sighed. “Neither, actually. It’s something far, far worse.”

“Which is?” Bon asked.

“Our…sponsor is less than happy with us right now.”

“Sponsor?” Rin scratched between his horns. “You mean the Vatican?”

Yukio’s face twisted up further into his disappointed-rage-y-ness. “Higher than that.”

Bon sucked in air sharply through his teeth but Rin just frowned. “What the hell is higher than the Vatican? It’s the highest thing we got other than-“ it hits him like a bolt through a pigeon’s wing. “No way. God’s mad at us?”

His brother nodded, once.

Holy shit. Rin had the sudden feeling of being five again and seeing Father Fujimoto walking in on a giant mess in the kitchen. Of the first few nights after waking up his demon heart and whispering prayers for his dad’s safe passage to heaven and wondering if his new status as hellspawn tainted the message.

“What-“ his voice is weaker than he’d like, “what did we do?”

Bon had started muttering under his breath, it sounded like one of his sutras but Rin couldn’t be sure. Yukio glanced back at the other exorcists on the platform and grimaced. “We…don’t know yet. Some representatives are coming down to speak with us. That’s why we’re gathering everybody here. All goes well…maybe this will be a straightforward fix.”

Representatives…no way. “You mean angels? Like- like real- real actual- angels? Coming here?” His brother nodded again, and Rin felt a little faint. He’d long gotten over his wariness around particularly gung-ho exorcists, but with angels…he can practically taste the ozone already from how hard they’re definitely going to smite him. ‘Cause- obviously, right? He’s got a neon sign on his soul that says CHILD OF SATAN—PLEASE KILL ME WITH FIRE. There’s no way literal actual angels aren’t going to want to hedge their bets and off the antichrist, right?

He turned to Bon and hoped his tail wasn’t lashing too hard. “I mean- I was baptized so like- I’m gonna be fine, right? Satan fire can’t burn away my baptism or anything, right? I go to confession! Regularly! And- and- and the Eucharist! I eat it! I eat it super reverently and shit!”

Bon’s eyes were still kind of unfocused but he set his jaw and laid one heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Dude, calm down. God’s mad at all of us. Not just you.”

Rin gives up the battle of nerves and snatches up his tail to toy with the end of it. “It’s not too late to convert to Buddhism, is it?” He asked, voice hoarse.

That earned him a bonk on the head from Suguro but there’s no heat in it and it did help stop his spiralling thoughts. Angels…in True Cross…it was like the set up to a bad joke.

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I am thinking about fan fiction writers, but anyone who writes any kind of fiction can answer. (As far as I’m aware, non-fiction is usually written in the past tense - but if I’m wrong do let me know!)

If you like, explain why in the tags!

When I was young I gathered that all serious works of fiction were written in the past tense (past tense third person to be precise) so that is what i did when I started writing. However my mind was blown by the power and immediacy of Margaret Atwood writing in the present tense so I started to experiment with it myself, and now i strongly favour it. I get the impression that past is still the most commonly used, but I’m prepared to be surprised!

Please share!

[caubool]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60598960

Transformers One fic WIP:

Isn't it crazy how much work Sentinel's "The Truth is What I Make It" spiel would actually take to follow through on and how much stuff "he" did that would require many many many more bots to carry out? Isn't it wild that Orion was searching for answers Everywhere in that archive and never found a stray hair out of place in the story Sentinel spun?

I’ve started writing out my own answer to the questions I kept coming up with while thinking way too hard about this movie! The first bit below:

In his spark, Optimus Prime is a mech of action. But never without strategy. Contrary to popular belief, he did look before he leapt. He just tended to assume he would land flawlessly on the other side. He wasn't called Optimus because of his dedication to realism, after all. And if all else fails, he knew he was fraggin’ lucky.

In the wake of Sentinel’s execution, Iacon stands on shaking, new-build legs. In just 50 cycles Cybertron lost a war, lost all of its Primes, nearly starved, and went into hiding at the call of a charismatic mech who pulled cogs from freshly sparked chambers. In less than that, Optimus himself onlined. Now, he stands as the sole Prime of Cybertron. Primus’s chosen. He and Iacon reel in tandem. So much in so little time. His servos still buzz with the vibrations of splitting D- Megatron’s canon. As if it'd been mere kliks ago and not a several phases.

Elita helps in the aftermath. B, too, but the little bot seems more preoccupied with exploring these days. Optimus can’t blame him. Though he privately wishes he could get out of all these blasted meetings and go exploring with the minibot rather than just hearing about his adventures after the fact.

In his office, Elita pushes another neat tray of holowork into his servos and levels him with a look. Her optics narrowed and lip plates pressing together so tightly there’s the faintest scrape of metal.

Optimus lets her stare for a few nanokliks before restarting his voice box. “Can I help you, Elita?”

The scraping sound twists up sharply as her look intensifies. "You're no help to anyone right now, Optimus."

He blinks. The words take longer than he'd like to admit to fully process. When they do, he jumps to his pedes. "What do you mean? Have I missed something? Has there been a Quintesson attack?"

"Sit back down, Prime." She ex-vents sharply and walks around to the other side of his desk.

He slumps into his seat and turns tired optics out onto Iacon, vast and crumpled before him. He had tried so hard to deny this office. With its gold trimmed windows and grand desk and personal energon fountain. It was all too much. But he was the Prime and this was a Prime's seat, it's tradition it's- he shutters his optics and terminates that line of thought. "Elita, please tell me what I've done wrong."

Leaning against his desk she watches him out of the corner of her optics. "What do you see there?" She gestures to the windows.

"I see Iacon, in pain. Bots, still unsure of where they fit now. I see a Cybertron uncertain of itself." He says.

"Do you know what I see?" She asks and Optimus doesn't so she continues, "I see a very tired bot working himself to the wire." He startles, but she isn't done yet. "I see a mech spreading himself so thin that he can't actually step up where he's needed."

Optimus has to work hard to get his jaw struts to function correctly. "I- Elita, I can't turn away from Cybertron, even for a nanoklik. They need a leader and that's- Primus chose me to do this. I can't undermine Primus's will."

"You can't jump in front of every canon blast aimed at Cybertron. And frankly, I don't want you to. Primus knows doing it that first time has only made your recklessness worse." Elita says.

"It is not reckless to try to build a better future for all bots." He shoots back.

She rolls her optics and sends him another look. "No, but it is reckless to avoid self-maintenance in the name of being a good leader. You can't be the mech Cybertron needs if your processor is half fried."

He ex-vents and he knows she's right. She often is. "Still, what do you suggest I do? Everywhere I turn there are more bots who need me."

"Find someplace quiet, keep all the lights off, and take a fragging break." Elita knocks her pauldron against his as she says it.

Optimus can feel a smile coming on and he doesn't fight it. "Is that advice, Commander?"

Elita smirks back at him. "That's an order."

--

For as often as he visited the Hall of Records—or, more accurately, was chased out of the Hall of Records—Optimus Prime had never seen another bot actually wandering the stacks. Security bots, sure, but they only showed up if they got tipped off by a roaming drone.

It feels odd to walk through the front doors of the Archive, nobody on his heels. Walking among the shelves of holovids that used to dwarf him and now seeing all the dust caked on their tops. It feels forbidden.

When he had dismissed the security at the entrance he had asked them to leave the lights off. Something he appreciates, even as it adds to the uncanny feeling building in his core. He knows the paths in the dark, the way his headlights snake around corners and up walls. Keeping one thing the same, just one…it's helping.

He starts where he left off last time. The projector screen was still set up with the history of Cybertron queued up. He spins the cartridge tray idly as the holovid starts. It breezes through the history every bot knew forwards, backwards, and inside out. He can feel his actuators depressurizing as the narration continues. He can almost pretend he's still Orion Pax, trying to solve an epic mystery and prove himself as more than just some cogless miner.

"-The Matrix of Leadership. Lost, with the Primes, to the surface." This is where he'd gotten found out last time. Optimus watches as the Matrix fades out into the globe and shakes his head, almost fond. He's already reaching for a new holovid when the narration continues. His optics narrow, hadn't he gotten to the end already? "Cybertron's only hope rests with our final, tireless leader: Sentinel Prime. But he cannot protect us alone. That's why Sentinel needs every bot in Cybertron to do their part and pull their weight. Cybertron needs you, your Prime needs you." The holovid projects Sentinel smiling, waving to an unseen audience, with the light glinting off of his helm.

He looks regal.

Optimus feels his fuel lines twist.

As the holovid finishes, it flashes a few final lines of text. "The Modern History of Cybertron - by ID-A. Sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative."

"What?" the word flies out of him as he reads, then re-reads the text. The Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative? Out of all the branches of government he'd had to get acquainted with recently, he hadn't ever heard of something like that. Optimus ran an internal search of his memory just to be sure but, no, this was the first time he'd seen the name.

Frowning, he swaps out holovids and let the next one play. The screen glows with colour as each of the Primes getts introduced. It's a basic history of the rulers of Cybertron and is similarly scant on details. The holovid once again ends with a shot of Sentinel and a call to work hard for the mech. The credits read: "Who Are the Primes of Cybertron? A Summary - by Thundercracker. Edited for clarity of purpose by ID-A and sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative."

Optimus slides in another vid. "The Quintesson War - by Gearstrike. Edited for clarity of purpose by WR-N and sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative." Then another one. "Energon: Its Sources, Uses, and Necessity to the Cybertronian Ecosystem - by Quarkkey. Edited for clarity of purpose by ID-A and sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative." And another one. "Iacon's Sub-Levels and You: A Guide - by WR-N. Sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being initiative."

Optimus spends the rest of the chord looking through any and every holovid he can get his servos on in that archive. By the time Cybertron starts its hum again—the signal for recharge to end and for first shift to begin—he's an island among the piles of holovid cartidges. Each of them branded by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative. And none of them ever explaining just what that initiative is.

This bothers him, more than Optimus thinks was strictly logical. It's more than likely that it's just an educational branch that created basic informational holovids. Yet, just reading those four words fill him with a dread that has become all too familiar. On the edge of a cliff, searching brassy, yellow optics, and knowing that no matter how much he hoped for the best, the worst is already staring him in the face.

[caubool]

Transformers One fic WIP:

Isn't it crazy how much work Sentinel's "The Truth is What I Make It" spiel would actually take to follow through on and how much stuff "he" did that would require many many many more bots to carry out? Isn't it wild that Orion was searching for answers Everywhere in that archive and never found a stray hair out of place in the story Sentinel spun?

I’ve started writing out my own answer to the questions I kept coming up with while thinking way too hard about this movie! The first bit below:

In his spark, Optimus Prime is a mech of action. But never without strategy. Contrary to popular belief, he did look before he leapt. He just tended to assume he would land flawlessly on the other side. He wasn't called Optimus because of his dedication to realism, after all. And if all else fails, he knew he was fraggin’ lucky.

In the wake of Sentinel’s execution, Iacon stands on shaking, new-build legs. In just 50 cycles Cybertron lost a war, lost all of its Primes, nearly starved, and went into hiding at the call of a charismatic mech who pulled cogs from freshly sparked chambers. In less than that, Optimus himself onlined. Now, he stands as the sole Prime of Cybertron. Primus’s chosen. He and Iacon reel in tandem. So much in so little time. His servos still buzz with the vibrations of splitting D- Megatron’s canon. As if it'd been mere kliks ago and not a several phases.

Elita helps in the aftermath. B, too, but the little bot seems more preoccupied with exploring these days. Optimus can’t blame him. Though he privately wishes he could get out of all these blasted meetings and go exploring with the minibot rather than just hearing about his adventures after the fact.

In his office, Elita pushes another neat tray of holowork into his servos and levels him with a look. Her optics narrowed and lip plates pressing together so tightly there’s the faintest scrape of metal.

Optimus lets her stare for a few nanokliks before restarting his voice box. “Can I help you, Elita?”

The scraping sound twists up sharply as her look intensifies. "You're no help to anyone right now, Optimus."

He blinks. The words take longer than he'd like to admit to fully process. When they do, he jumps to his pedes. "What do you mean? Have I missed something? Has there been a Quintesson attack?"

"Sit back down, Prime." She ex-vents sharply and walks around to the other side of his desk.

He slumps into his seat and turns tired optics out onto Iacon, vast and crumpled before him. He had tried so hard to deny this office. With its gold trimmed windows and grand desk and personal energon fountain. It was all too much. But he was the Prime and this was a Prime's seat, it's tradition it's- he shutters his optics and terminates that line of thought. "Elita, please tell me what I've done wrong."

Leaning against his desk she watches him out of the corner of her optics. "What do you see there?" She gestures to the windows.

"I see Iacon, in pain. Bots, still unsure of where they fit now. I see a Cybertron uncertain of itself." He says.

"Do you know what I see?" She asks and Optimus doesn't so she continues, "I see a very tired bot working himself to the wire." He startles, but she isn't done yet. "I see a mech spreading himself so thin that he can't actually step up where he's needed."

Optimus has to work hard to get his jaw struts to function correctly. "I- Elita, I can't turn away from Cybertron, even for a nanoklik. They need a leader and that's- Primus chose me to do this. I can't undermine Primus's will."

"You can't jump in front of every canon blast aimed at Cybertron. And frankly, I don't want you to. Primus knows doing it that first time has only made your recklessness worse." Elita says.

"It is not reckless to try to build a better future for all bots." He shoots back.

She rolls her optics and sends him another look. "No, but it is reckless to avoid self-maintenance in the name of being a good leader. You can't be the mech Cybertron needs if your processor is half fried."

He ex-vents and he knows she's right. She often is. "Still, what do you suggest I do? Everywhere I turn there are more bots who need me."

"Find someplace quiet, keep all the lights off, and take a fragging break." Elita knocks her pauldron against his as she says it.

Optimus can feel a smile coming on and he doesn't fight it. "Is that advice, Commander?"

Elita smirks back at him. "That's an order."

--

For as often as he visited the Hall of Records—or, more accurately, was chased out of the Hall of Records—Optimus Prime had never seen another bot actually wandering the stacks. Security bots, sure, but they only showed up if they got tipped off by a roaming drone.

It feels odd to walk through the front doors of the Archive, nobody on his heels. Walking among the shelves of holovids that used to dwarf him and now seeing all the dust caked on their tops. It feels forbidden.

When he had dismissed the security at the entrance he had asked them to leave the lights off. Something he appreciates, even as it adds to the uncanny feeling building in his core. He knows the paths in the dark, the way his headlights snake around corners and up walls. Keeping one thing the same, just one…it's helping.

He starts where he left off last time. The projector screen was still set up with the history of Cybertron queued up. He spins the cartridge tray idly as the holovid starts. It breezes through the history every bot knew forwards, backwards, and inside out. He can feel his actuators depressurizing as the narration continues. He can almost pretend he's still Orion Pax, trying to solve an epic mystery and prove himself as more than just some cogless miner.

"-The Matrix of Leadership. Lost, with the Primes, to the surface." This is where he'd gotten found out last time. Optimus watches as the Matrix fades out into the globe and shakes his head, almost fond. He's already reaching for a new holovid when the narration continues. His optics narrow, hadn't he gotten to the end already? "Cybertron's only hope rests with our final, tireless leader: Sentinel Prime. But he cannot protect us alone. That's why Sentinel needs every bot in Cybertron to do their part and pull their weight. Cybertron needs you, your Prime needs you." The holovid projects Sentinel smiling, waving to an unseen audience, with the light glinting off of his helm.

He looks regal.

Optimus feels his fuel lines twist.

As the holovid finishes, it flashes a few final lines of text. "The Modern History of Cybertron - by ID-A. Sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative."

"What?" the word flies out of him as he reads, then re-reads the text. The Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative? Out of all the branches of government he'd had to get acquainted with recently, he hadn't ever heard of something like that. Optimus ran an internal search of his memory just to be sure but, no, this was the first time he'd seen the name.

Frowning, he swaps out holovids and let the next one play. The screen glows with colour as each of the Primes getts introduced. It's a basic history of the rulers of Cybertron and is similarly scant on details. The holovid once again ends with a shot of Sentinel and a call to work hard for the mech. The credits read: "Who Are the Primes of Cybertron? A Summary - by Thundercracker. Edited for clarity of purpose by ID-A and sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative."

Optimus slides in another vid. "The Quintesson War - by Gearstrike. Edited for clarity of purpose by WR-N and sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative." Then another one. "Energon: Its Sources, Uses, and Necessity to the Cybertronian Ecosystem - by Quarkkey. Edited for clarity of purpose by ID-A and sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative." And another one. "Iacon's Sub-Levels and You: A Guide - by WR-N. Sponsored by the Cybertronian Well-Being initiative."

Optimus spends the rest of the chord looking through any and every holovid he can get his servos on in that archive. By the time Cybertron starts its hum again—the signal for recharge to end and for first shift to begin—he's an island among the piles of holovid cartidges. Each of them branded by the Cybertronian Well-Being Initiative. And none of them ever explaining just what that initiative is.

This bothers him, more than Optimus thinks was strictly logical. It's more than likely that it's just an educational branch that created basic informational holovids. Yet, just reading those four words fill him with a dread that has become all too familiar. On the edge of a cliff, searching brassy, yellow optics, and knowing that no matter how much he hoped for the best, the worst is already staring him in the face.

[caubool]

Part one has been posted! I’ve got part two already written, but I want to get more of this done before I post that

AnE Fic WIP

Context: It’s an adult Bonrin AU mission fic where angels are displeased with the progress in the fight against Satan and decide to intervene with their world-ending trumpets. I’ve been slowly chipping away at this over the past week and I wanted to post a short snippet of what I’ve got so far!

Standing on a raised platform and talking with a few other exorcists was Yukio, looking composed as usual, though there was a crease of discomfort between his brows.

“OY! YUKIO!” Rin called out. His brother jolted at the volume, but something about his face eased at their approach. Once they were close enough to talk, Rin started. “Do you know what this is all about? A secret society announcing themselves? Satan showing up somewhere?”

Yukio’s face did that thing it always did when he couldn’t decide if he should be disappointed or fuming mad. He sighed. “Neither, actually. It’s something far, far worse.”

“Which is?” Bon asked.

“Our…sponsor is less than happy with us right now.”

“Sponsor?” Rin scratched between his horns. “You mean the Vatican?”

Yukio’s face twisted up further into his disappointed-rage-y-ness. “Higher than that.”

Bon sucked in air sharply through his teeth but Rin just frowned. “What the hell is higher than the Vatican? It’s the highest thing we got other than-“ it hits him like a bolt through a pigeon’s wing. “No way. God’s mad at us?”

His brother nodded, once.

Holy shit. Rin had the sudden feeling of being five again and seeing Father Fujimoto walking in on a giant mess in the kitchen. Of the first few nights after waking up his demon heart and whispering prayers for his dad’s safe passage to heaven and wondering if his new status as hellspawn tainted the message.

“What-“ his voice is weaker than he’d like, “what did we do?”

Bon had started muttering under his breath, it sounded like one of his sutras but Rin couldn’t be sure. Yukio glanced back at the other exorcists on the platform and grimaced. “We…don’t know yet. Some representatives are coming down to speak with us. That’s why we’re gathering everybody here. All goes well…maybe this will be a straightforward fix.”

Representatives…no way. “You mean angels? Like- like real- real actual- angels? Coming here?” His brother nodded again, and Rin felt a little faint. He’d long gotten over his wariness around particularly gung-ho exorcists, but with angels…he can practically taste the ozone already from how hard they’re definitely going to smite him. ‘Cause- obviously, right? He’s got a neon sign on his soul that says CHILD OF SATAN—PLEASE KILL ME WITH FIRE. There’s no way literal actual angels aren’t going to want to hedge their bets and off the antichrist, right?

He turned to Bon and hoped his tail wasn’t lashing too hard. “I mean- I was baptized so like- I’m gonna be fine, right? Satan fire can’t burn away my baptism or anything, right? I go to confession! Regularly! And- and- and the Eucharist! I eat it! I eat it super reverently and shit!”

Bon’s eyes were still kind of unfocused but he set his jaw and laid one heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Dude, calm down. God’s mad at all of us. Not just you.”

Rin gives up the battle of nerves and snatches up his tail to toy with the end of it. “It’s not too late to convert to Buddhism, is it?” He asked, voice hoarse.

That earned him a bonk on the head from Suguro but there’s no heat in it and it did help stop his spiralling thoughts. Angels…in True Cross…it was like the set up to a bad joke.

[caubool]

New Fic Posted!

I’ve finally done it. I’m posting cringe on main. High school me could never. I’ve ascended beyond fanfic shame

[caubool]

AnE Fic WIP

Context: It’s an adult Bonrin AU mission fic where angels are displeased with the progress in the fight against Satan and decide to intervene with their world-ending trumpets. I’ve been slowly chipping away at this over the past week and I wanted to post a short snippet of what I’ve got so far!

Standing on a raised platform and talking with a few other exorcists was Yukio, looking composed as usual, though there was a crease of discomfort between his brows.

“OY! YUKIO!” Rin called out. His brother jolted at the volume, but something about his face eased at their approach. Once they were close enough to talk, Rin started. “Do you know what this is all about? A secret society announcing themselves? Satan showing up somewhere?”

Yukio’s face did that thing it always did when he couldn’t decide if he should be disappointed or fuming mad. He sighed. “Neither, actually. It’s something far, far worse.”

“Which is?” Bon asked.

“Our…sponsor is less than happy with us right now.”

“Sponsor?” Rin scratched between his horns. “You mean the Vatican?”

Yukio’s face twisted up further into his disappointed-rage-y-ness. “Higher than that.”

Bon sucked in air sharply through his teeth but Rin just frowned. “What the hell is higher than the Vatican? It’s the highest thing we got other than-“ it hits him like a bolt through a pigeon’s wing. “No way. God’s mad at us?”

His brother nodded, once.

Holy shit. Rin had the sudden feeling of being five again and seeing Father Fujimoto walking in on a giant mess in the kitchen. Of the first few nights after waking up his demon heart and whispering prayers for his dad’s safe passage to heaven and wondering if his new status as hellspawn tainted the message.

“What-“ his voice is weaker than he’d like, “what did we do?”

Bon had started muttering under his breath, it sounded like one of his sutras but Rin couldn’t be sure. Yukio glanced back at the other exorcists on the platform and grimaced. “We…don’t know yet. Some representatives are coming down to speak with us. That’s why we’re gathering everybody here. All goes well…maybe this will be a straightforward fix.”

Representatives…no way. “You mean angels? Like- like real- real actual- angels? Coming here?” His brother nodded again, and Rin felt a little faint. He’d long gotten over his wariness around particularly gung-ho exorcists, but with angels…he can practically taste the ozone already from how hard they’re definitely going to smite him. ‘Cause- obviously, right? He’s got a neon sign on his soul that says CHILD OF SATAN—PLEASE KILL ME WITH FIRE. There’s no way literal actual angels aren’t going to want to hedge their bets and off the antichrist, right?

He turned to Bon and hoped his tail wasn’t lashing too hard. “I mean- I was baptized so like- I’m gonna be fine, right? Satan fire can’t burn away my baptism or anything, right? I go to confession! Regularly! And- and- and the Eucharist! I eat it! I eat it super reverently and shit!”

Bon’s eyes were still kind of unfocused but he set his jaw and laid one heavy hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Dude, calm down. God’s mad at all of us. Not just you.”

Rin gives up the battle of nerves and snatches up his tail to toy with the end of it. “It’s not too late to convert to Buddhism, is it?” He asked, voice hoarse.

That earned him a bonk on the head from Suguro but there’s no heat in it and it did help stop his spiralling thoughts. Angels…in True Cross…it was like the set up to a bad joke.

[caubool]

my dream as a fanfic writer is to write a story which people want to talk to me about and send asks about afterwards and discuss things the characters did and the symbolism and meanings behind certain lines and I'll be all "hehe thanks" but irl I'll be in literal tears because I wrote something that means something to someone

[caubool]

ITS HERE!!!! ITS HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[caubool]

CONTENTS ASSEMBLED,,, WERE ALMOST DONE!!!

[caubool]

[caubool]

HERE WE GO!!!!!!!

Book design notes no one will care ab:

• All starting points start at 2.5in down the page

• The font is Iowan Old Style Roman for body, title caps for titles, and italics for runners

• Type is set in 10 pt with 14 pt leading

• This doc is meant to be a 6x9 book, currently waffling between paperback or hardcover

More images!!!!

Table of contents will be the very last thing I do!

Step one is to get all the text situated on the doc

Step two is to clean up the text, reduce as many hanging words or chapters as possible

Step three final touches (ex: TOC, comments, flourishes)

Step four is to figure out book dimensions

Step five make the cover

Step six WE MADE IT

[caubool]

File compiled-FOUR HUNDRED AND THIRTY EIGHT PAGES BEFORE TYPESETTING? This book is going to be. Thick.

Stumbling Through F Major Patch Notes

Update 2.0 “Da Capo al Fine”

• First recorded instance of the elusive emn-dash “-—“

• Final annoying tense changes “it’s not like” -> “it wasn’t like”

• Added a few more sentences of relationship speculation to Da Capo

• Select comments gathered into proper comment doc

• Playlist finally written down all in one place

That’s…it! 100%! The fic has been edited and updated all the way through! I’m so incredibly happy with this story and that it’s fully finished. I hope to finish the typesetting in the next few days, pictures of course to follow.

More than anything, I’m still so blown away by all the responses this story has gotten. It’s so sweet, and so humbling. I’m forever thankful for absolutely everyone who picked up the story and gave it a read. I’m excited to look back on all this in ten, twenty years and smile.

[caubool]

Stumbling Through F Major Patch Notes

Update 2.0 “Da Capo al Fine”

• First recorded instance of the elusive emn-dash “-—“

• Final annoying tense changes “it’s not like” -> “it wasn’t like”

• Added a few more sentences of relationship speculation to Da Capo

• Select comments gathered into proper comment doc

• Playlist finally written down all in one place

That’s…it! 100%! The fic has been edited and updated all the way through! I’m so incredibly happy with this story and that it’s fully finished. I hope to finish the typesetting in the next few days, pictures of course to follow.

More than anything, I’m still so blown away by all the responses this story has gotten. It’s so sweet, and so humbling. I’m forever thankful for absolutely everyone who picked up the story and gave it a read. I’m excited to look back on all this in ten, twenty years and smile.