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mikeywriting · 1 year

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Prologue Chapters

So! It's here. Just the first four. These are just drafts though, none of these chapters are permanent and are subject to further change. The intent of posting this draft is to give you my audience a chance to take a look inside and see what I got cooking. Differing writing styles - you might notice that each chapter's writing style is more different than the others. This is intended. Each character has their own perspective and thus a writing style to accompany it.

Intents - to introduce you to the characters of my story and a bit about who they are.

Nitpick as you like, I could always use the extra pair of eyes.

Withour further ado,

Lighteater: Tales of Willowfield

Chapter 1

Brothers On The Wind

“Winter was coming to its bitter end that year. The island of Willowfield was slowly beginning to defrost from ‘the long sleep,’ as most locals called it. Me, my big brother, and Mason just moved here. Willowfield is alright, the woods are unbearably thick; you could easily get lost if you wandered just a few inches from the trail, but things like that never stopped me. I like getting lost, I always find my own way back because Mason always helps me find a way out. . . I’ve had visions again, these ones were much clearer. When we got here, I saw a bunch of ‘ghost-children’ by the shore and by the trail, the children that got lost, their voices lost in this great hall of time, calling out for their mothers and fathers. I don’t like this place too much for that but, Mason loves it, he can’t get enough of the snow. In Eksura, we were lucky if we could afford the time to go on a trip to the north but here, we live in the north. As long as my sweet dragon babe loves this place, I know I’ll love it too.”

-Tsujiro

Howard looked at his brother from their new house, a slight grin across his face to rid him of his guilt. Three days on the sea wasn’t as troublesome as the trouble Tsujiro got back home. His little brother would always get in some sort of trouble for stealing, fighting, or being tricked by the older kids. It got even worse when he began to receive visions.’ He claimed one day that he saw the Grand Sage and the fabled Emperor speaking to each other in the deep woods. Everyone called him crazy and for that, he got in even more trouble. Tsujiro was a lot of things but a liar he was not. The worst part though was that Howard knew that Tsujiro wasn’t lying about his visions; he knew they were real. Howard and the rest of his family possess something familiar. But to protect Tsujiro, the truth could never be told. Not until the right time, so he thought.

While he let Tsujiro and Mason play in the woods, Howard took to the house’s utilities. The plumbing is said to be decent around Starfield, so he checked the faucets. When he turned the tap, he swore to all that he knew was holy that he heard something whisper from in it.

“Krick. . . krack. . .the. . . time. . . attack. . . krick. . .”

Its voice was weak and rough and it echoed from within before letting loose a sudden burst of water. When the water ran, the voice was slowly being overtaken before disappearing. Howard thought himself insane or at least halfway there. He turned off the faucet and then on again, but nothing other than water came out. He took a deep breath and moved on. He thought that it must have just been stress from the trip to Willowfield and Tsujiro… He looked out the window and could no longer see Tsujiro. No shadow, no voice, nothing. So he ran to where he saw him last. A large boulder where the sun shines upon its flat podium like top. He called out.

“Tsujiro! Mason!”

Hoping for them to answer back. But the only thing that heard him were the crows that flocked about. The fluttering of large midnight wings were the only sounds that reciprocated his shouting. He shouts again. “Tsujiro! Come on, it's time to go home. The sun is setting. . .”

He looked to the blue gray clouds where scarlet slivers of sunset scant cover it like veins.

“Tsujiro!”

He wouldn’t stop until he heard him. But stop he did, because he heard something other than the nature that engulfed him. Hearts beating. One strong and firm, the other weak yet defiant. He could hear them coming northward. So he ran in hopes that his gift would serve him the way he needs it to. With each step that plunged into the ground, he could hear them getting louder.

“Help. . . me. . .”

The sound of his brother’s voice. Light and young, like a fledgling’s first crest.

“I’m coming for you.” He said to himself with heroic intent to save his brother, he ran as quickly as his boots would carry him. That desire to save his brother would however, face a peculiar problem. An atrocity to humankind’s eyes. It was something he would never want to see again in any part of his life. It shook him to his heart’s very beating. Rending the soul’s sanity and piercing him through his chest, it felt like a heavy breath of wind entered his chest and never left. Its seething mass was grotesque and bent in ways that should not be possible, but alas, he witnesses them defy goodness. This shambling mound of horrors presented itself in front of him, one tendril carrying the helpless Tsujiro and Mason.

“Howard!”

Tsujiro yelled out. Howard wanted to run, wanted it to end, whichever was fastest. He just wanted to stop seeing it. Voices in his head flooded like a harbor wave. They wouldn’t stop tormenting him, possessing his body to do things he was not yet doing but knew he did or felt like he did. It split him into pieces beyond recognition. He couldn’t even remember his own name then nor the year Tsujiro was born. He forgot himself. Until. . .

“I need you!”

It was always those words that would have him by the throat. No matter how much it split him apart, this one piece was always the same. It was like a binding by his core. His brother needs him and nothing can stop him from doing just that. Not even this abomination of reality. Clasping his loose fists, Howard couldn’t bear the pain, but he couldn’t resist the call. Legs rushed and ran with reckless abandon, right arm primed for a reckless haymaker. He swung as he approached but. . . whiffed. It was a sinking feeling in his gut, a feeling of failure. Before feeling a sudden rush of energy. The ground obeyed his wish. He could not recall the exact events but it was like he became a part of the ground or perhaps it was the ground that became a part of him. The ‘thing’ if it could even be called that. Would soon find itself buried in the rubble of the mountain’s foot and Howard would find himself walking home, Tsujiro laid asleep on his arms as Mason followed. His eyes were numb, his mind was wounded, and his body was spent. The air was lighter but not without cost. He was not in his right mind but many pieces of him knew that they had to keep it together. Because in their hands, lay the most precious thing in their world.

“So keep it together.”

He muttered to himself with cold unfeeling eyes that gazed into the dark fields. As they walked home, Howard would slowly convince himself to wake up. No matter how comforting the lifeless ground was, he had to stay awake. Especially for Tsujiro. He was always a troublesome kid, but he never means ill without any well. He’s important, he’s the most precious things, he’s touched by the divine gift. A gift beyond the conception of human history. A gift that kept them safe and he has the gift to fell nations whole or build worlds off a whim. He was. . .

“My brother.”

His eyes fluttered. The last thing he could remember was the sight of something he couldn’t remember. It held his brother until he smacked it with what felt like the force of a train.

“We’re different, you and I.”

He told his unconscious brother.

“You’re more special though. I don’t know why, but I feel it is so.”

He laid him down on the dusty old sofa and washed his face, unbothered and completely moved on from the dreadful thing he had just experienced. He had work to do after all. Work for him and for his brother.

“Goodnight, Howard.”

Chapter 2

Guns and Willow Trees

“Willow trees. It’s my favorite type of tree. It is said that their bark and leaves are so sacred that they ward off all evil. I spend my time in the spring and summer underneath one I call, Goody’s Hollow, named after my surname. Its bark is strong and sturdy, enough that it could easily survive a monster’s attacks. There’s a hollow inside that I can crawl in for safety and I placed talismans made of its shedded branches around it. This way, I’ll know for sure that my hollow is safe from the

Darkness.

The other kids are still afraid of me. I asked them if they wanted to see my hollow the other day, but they stared at me with such disgust that it pierced my heart. I felt wounded, felt horrible, felt like a monster in their eyes. But maybe it is true. I’ve seen things beyond their comprehension, I could stare into the void and point my gun at it without trembling, nothing can terrify me the way I scare them.”

-Connor Goody

Connor Goody. Disgraced bastard son of two figures just as mysterious as his own birth and existence. The only two souls on the island kind enough to harbor the like of him were Ella and Emily Goody. Everyone believes the two to be widows who live alone together, others think them sisters, very few rumor them a couple. Out of all of Willowfield’s towns, they chose to live in the Lonewood hills where their little cabin housed the once little, Connor Goody.

He was unlike any other child. He would tell stories that no one’s ever heard of before. Most of the time, they would be the morbid ways a person died from some far off century or a guide on how to ride a horse; which some people found to be an awful idea. You would never want to be around a horse. Especially horses in Willowfield. He spoke with such impunity and confidence that people began to think of a madchild of him. His eccentrism was beyond what they could understand as he spouted what seemed to be insanities at the time. They would come to accept him for his freakish behavior and that perhaps he was just born beneath the light of a dark star.

Connor’s life in school was a brambling mess. Academically, a few of his teachers thought him a revolutionary, the others thought of him as a babbling schizophrenic. Despite what they may think of him though, there was one fact about his unpredictable nature that they knew for sure. He was their smartest and that was something they knew wouldn’t lead to any good. Socially, students laughed at him, either as the class jester or a purposeful oaf but they would soon come to fear him as well. In his youth, Connor acted with absurd zeal and recklessness, with such innocence in his soul. They never thought him capable of making a weapon, and to bring that weapon in their classroom to show off. Loaded with lead shrapnel and cocked with a hammer’s strike, it spared little mercy for the thick walls of their classroom. Its iron barrel smoked with the smell of brimstone. The wooden chassis and stock strangely, did not catch fire nor did it deconstruct from the force.When the teacher saw the destruction wrought by his weapon, Connor became something worse than fear. They looked at him and no longer saw a boy in his silhouette. His ‘Shrapnel Cannon’ was confiscated and the professors discussed among themselves, the fate of a little boy who became unfathomable. In a compromise of mercy and hope, Connor Goody was left to be homeschooled under the provision of Willowfield Academy. That day was his mind’s very unraveling. He realized that he’d become a force of nature, something they would dread because he was inevitable. If they crossed paths with him, they were surely destined to be destroyed. Unsure of this destiny, he often pondered in silence. His mind was the only sanctuary he could spill his own thoughts in. It was only ever so often when he’d spill beyond the confines of his mind palace and truly let people see who he was. And often, what spills was something utterly disturbing.

. . . “It's okay, everything is okay.” He muttered as he heard from beyond his hollow, the wailing and walloping of an unknown creature. He took deep breaths, trying to recover from the long and depriving sprint he’d taken to get here.

“The hollow protects me. The hollow protects me. The hallowed protects me.”

He rocked back and forth, pondering what to do next. The talisman would not hold the raging and reaving of this dark abomination for any longer. Soon, the claws of the bear it disguised as will strike strong enough to fell the fragile twigs planted to the ground.

“Heed me well, little child. When your little tricks are exhausted, I will not make your death easy. You will suffer as you’ve made me hunger. You’re the one who freed me from that accursed seal, you’re the one who let me in, now let me FEAST.”

Its voice was disgusting, like a feral beast who hungered not because it starved but simply because of gluttony. It was the voice of a person well-kept and charming, but a person it was not. Its pitch black tendrils shaped like bramble vines crawled out and moved unnaturally swift from within the bear’s mouth. Another, far larger tendril extended from a wound on its chest, striking with the lead of the other tendril.

Connor was hesitant, his left hand was placed upon a box where in it lay dormant, the very treasure he sold his soul to the demon for. A treasure he wanted back. Whether it was for any important reason or not, something beckoned him to get it back despite the cost.

“No. I can’t use it. What would momma say?”

He spoke to himself.

“She’d want us to stay safe.”

“But I don’t want to-“

“Don’t want to do what? Stay alive? You don’t want to see mom again?”

“I don’t want to become a monster!”

“We were born one!”

He was silent. Nearly bringing himself to tears over his own conversation. He took the key from his pocket and unlocked the box.

“Fix yourself, Connor. We don’t cry. We’re different. We have to do this. It is our duty.”

He nodded.

When the talismans gave way, the beast smiled. Its malformed grin revealed the half-rotting insides of the bear. Each step was a heavy symphony of doom and anticipation. It salivated umbral colored liquids that spill with the consistency of molasses.

“My little… sacrifice…I’m collecting my end of… the bargain…”

As the tendrils lifted the willow tree’s leaves, it was met with a sudden glimpse into hell. Yes, there was a monster here, and it was no longer this freakish abomination. It was a stout young boy wearing a raincoat. He held with his left hand, a hand cannon far larger than he should be able to carry. His brown hair glowed orange in the merciless fire that emitted from the barrel, the same light would reflect from his circle framed glasses as the smoke covered the lens with winter frost. His grimace would turn to an awful grin, one that delighted in the damage he caused. He looked at the poor thing and marveled at the flesh bits that scattered. It exposed the “creature” within. It was a shambling mound of would-be horrors made of black umbral matter with the consistency of tar. It would move and struggle but regrow in places lightning-quick.

“I like this.”

He muttered. With this thumb, he pulled back the hammer and aimed for what seemed to be its core: a spherical mass that bulged and beat like a heart.

A loud click rang through his head and he woke up.

Connor fell asleep in his hollow again. Box in hand, his arms and shirt covered with ink from his inkpot. His journal did not survive it either. A large ugly blot mark was left on it that looked vaguely familiar.

“I didn’t like that.”

While he scrambled and prepared to leave, Connor’s eyes were distracted. The yellow-flared morning light made gold of all that it touched and rudely invaded past his hollow’s covers….His misery eroded quickly with the sun’s gentle touch. He slung his raincoat over his shoulder and walked with a slight spring in his step.

“Debts to be paid and explanations to be made,” Inhale…exhale… “but today, I’ll smile.”

Chapter 3

Deep Breaths

He took a deep breath, taking in the dark night’s view of the town. Its lights illuminated the wet and heavy fog. If you squinted, they would look like spirits floating in the void. Aaron held in his hands the skull of a Willowfield Horse. A beast of might and unrivaled courage, they ruled the lands and still, they continue their reign to the present day. This horse skull was the skull of his father’s dearest friend within the woods. That night, he donned the coat his father often wore. A leather coat made from the skin of a bull. It was tough but the leather had begun to crack and peel.

“I grew into it.”

His eyes were unfocused, lost in his own thoughts.

“But the guilt doesn’t leave.”

He put aside the skull and began to dig into the soft mud, excavating the roots of the grass.

“We all used to go up here. Now it’s just me.”

Mindlessly, he took a finger and began to draw something on the mud. He drew it as if he’d done this a thousand times before. The cold chills it brought didn’t bother him, not one bit.

“Tell me. Where did you go?”

When he was done, he took the skull and placed it amid the circle.

He took a deep breath.

Aaron Crowe, one born so peculiar as to possess powers beyond his own imaginings. That stars to him were more than twinkling rocks beyond the sky’s reach. That to him, the wind tells secrets hidden far kept in the deepest corners of the mind. His body and soul were attuned deeply to the universe, rooted deep like trees ancient and unmoved for centuries. Despite the torturous noises, visions, and hallucinations, he lived and appeared like a normal child. The true nature of his existence, hidden behind plain books, white polo shirts, and overalls. Within, was something sinister yet graceful in a way only angels could ever be.

Suffice to say, life was not simple for him. But grace was spared on him, for many more mysteries continue to envelop his past and his future. It all started with the mysterious disappearance of his father. The only thing he left were his most precious belongings: the skull of a willowfield horse and his old coat. He promised to Aaron that he would return in one week’s time but it’s been years. Aaron was just a boy then, but soon, when the sun rises, he would become a young man. His mother used to be an open book who wore her heart on her sleeve, but ever since her husband left, she’d become reserved, her once loud and energetic heart had closed itself off from the world. Her love remained but she never ran like she did, sang her little poems of love, nor did she dance like no one was watching. It was this shift that made the things inside Aaron’s mind to grow stronger and louder. Until they whispered in his ears. And they did not sound like devils or angels nor were they ghosts. They whispered because they were far and their voices could scant be heard. Its speech was smooth like slick, silvered like holy objects, and spoke of hellfire and brimstone. They would prod and poke, playing with his heartstrings like a fiddle. It was a darkness within him that he let fester and isolate him. There was no point in fighting back, he was born this way, born wrong -cursed.

So there he knelt, taking deep breaths as his clothes were stained with the night’s sin and stained with the long-dried blood of those devoured by history. He gave in to the demands of this… thing. It claimed itself a king, a salvation from his lonely idleness, a bearer of wisdom that would give him everything he wanted, as long as he fell the pillar that sealed him. It crawled from the ground, a strange goop that crawled and struggled. Its voice sounded like the clicking of a thousand beetles, and its eyes scattered across its formless unholy body. It mimicked the shape of his body, mirroring every part, copying what it sees.

“We love you.”

He didn’t budge or hesitate, he didn’t care. But he felt something unfamiliar.

“Let us… embrace…”

Its arms spread wide, the dark goop unfurled wide as if to copy the gesture of hugging. It stumbled and struggled, inching closer and closer to him. A cold and striking wind crawled into his skin.

“We… are the same…”

As soon as it touched him, Aaron felt a chill like never before, it crawled through his chest, down his spine, and pierced his heart. It was like death. Slowly, the thing burrowed into his heart, blackening its pale red beating, becoming one with it.

“Now we… are… alive…”

He took a deep breath.

All that was left here were the smashed pieces of a small white pillar, the ground beneath it slowly consuming each piece, planting the rocks like tombstones. The horse skull was left untouched but dimly glows with a strange power Aaron could sense.

“Do not touch it…”

Aaron ignored the voices as he often did and touched the skull. Upon feeling the smooth dry surface, he was met with a burning sensation. His fingers recoiled as the heat grew but no fire was around to make it.

“It rejects us… you… but we… we love you…”

He felt disgusted with himself. What has he done, letting a stranger in his heart.

“You were empty. Your heart had a hole only WE could fill.”

Their voices grow louder, their grasp of his body is stronger than before, almost like they’ve begun to possess him. In resistance he’d doff his father’s coat, nearly subjecting himself to their control.

“Do what we say, Aaron, we know what’s good for you.”

And wrapped the skull in it.

“You’re no longer you.”

He was no longer himself.

“Crowfoot.”

As he carried home what felt like a ball of flame, truth began to spill into his ears. His pale olive skin, frail as paper, his soul was black as ink, dark as void. He ran and he ran, he did and he learned, but those lessons, he couldn’t use them. He’d gone and lost himself in a cave, wherein lies a beast starved for a thousand years.

He could barely utter a word, he was shivering as he ran through the wet hills, his mouth was barred with guilt, his gut ached with regret. What have you done? “Mom…”

His regrets had come to spiral, the thoughts and the should haves and should not have, ceaselessly scolded him. They pelted his back like hail and hit his head with rocks.

“Mom…”

But in the chaos of distress and disarray, one memory comes to mind.

“Mom…”

He took a deep breath.

What have you done?

Chapter 4

Don’t Be Afraid

“Mistakes. I make thousands of them. I’m so tired of making them. I can’t ever make one but I do. All the time. So here I am, sitting beside my window. Wondering: what could’ve been.”

Christine Lee, seventeen years of age, stands as the epitome of excellence. Her collar was clean as the day it was bought. The same could be said for her boots, her gloves, and handkerchief. Not a drop of blood or spit spilled from her, not even in childhood. She was always the reserved sort, never raised her voice, ran her mouth or talked back. She was the town’s ‘golden girl.’

But within lay the desire to let loose, to break free from the white-gray stone cocoon of hers, to become who she could’ve been.

Lately, this desire of hers has become obsessive. To the point of her keeping twigs, rocks, and shiny pieces of scrap left near forest trails. Obsessing over what they were, where they came from, and the scent on them. She would hide her little trinkets and tchotchkes in sub-compartments of her drawers, wardrobes, or underneath her floorboards.

She would journal her findings and the things she suspects them to have originated from. Each entry goes into at least two paragraphs of extremely detailed hypothesis, conclusion, and footnotes on the discovery of an object. One note she could never forget was when she met a peculiar lady in the forest.

“I think she was the same age as me. She was beautiful, her white curly hair looked like willow tree leaves. She wore a pair of shaded spectacles and her clothes were dirty. When I said hello, she turned around and I saw the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen my entire life. Her skin was brown as oak, oily and dirty, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her smile was brighter than the afternoon sunlight, even now I still think of her, I think she was talking to the plants when I met her. She referred to them as her friends who told her things. Turns out, she’s blind! I was confused and bewildered. How was she not afraid? How was she not scared to get lost? But she had this devil may care attitude. She was carefree and well… free. I think we’re friends now. She told me to meet again at the same spot, but I’m worried she’ll get lost. I told her this and she just looked at me and smiled before running off.”

Camilla Flos Bechard. Despite her blindness, Flos was never one to be afraid. Perhaps that was another thing was born without but regardless of that, her bravery is something peculiar and unfamiliar to the people of Starfield. To her, the world was a playground and the word risk was just a word in the dictionary.

It was in the thick of the wood where she would find something truly extraordinary. The plants spoke to her. They were like people but nicer and they would tell her their names, their stories, what they’ve heard, and who they felt. They were just like her, they couldn’t see but they could feel the world around them. They can hear songs from times beyond the birth of her grandmother, they still hear them then.

“I want to hear it too.”

So they embraced. She ate of their fruits and their leaves and spoke the words only they understood.

And she saw what they saw. The ground unending, the world revolving, the skies unmoving. And heard what they heard. The natives of Starfield, the megafauna that had long ago existed and bonded with humanity, the voice of a prophet and the war his daughter ended.

She was scared but they told her not to be.

“Trust us.”

It whispered. Flos was not sure anymore, her brave disposition was displaced, she truly was a girl lost in the woods.

“You are our friend. You hear us. You know who- whom we were.”

And she was their child, they’ve watched over her since she was a babe.

“I trust you.”

With trembling hands she reached out and the trees held her hands. They guided her with one step to another, then another, until she could run. Life was a playground for her was a playground. There was another thing she heard from the memories of these trees. The pain and suffering caused by an entity made of ink and hell. It was no celestial being, not a human, nor was it some sort of beast. It was a monster beyond sight. That all who looked upon its horror shattered into a million pieces as if looking into the void as if it had already defeated them by burrowing into their hearts, by making them afraid of everything.

“Will it return?”

“It wills its return.”

#writing #yay!!! posting a draft!!!#Not the final product #constructive criticism please

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filibusterfrog · 1 year

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#my art #you can probably tell i dont animate ever but i just wanted to learn how flintlock pistols work #and i did!#edit: please dont send me constructive criticism i dont care about improving my animation work <3

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 1 year

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As we approach the next arc in the story, an outfit change is now on the horizon! The question is, what are our lads going to wear?

(Please also vote in the Lan Wangji poll!)

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #outfitting arc #poll #Reminder that these outfits are just for the next arc #so they are sticking around for a while but will change later #I love wwx's outfits in The Untamed a lot (there are so many fun variations!) and I cherry picked some of my favourite elements #alas. I am limited in the level of detail that I can add.#but man oh man....this is already a huge step up from where I started.#wwx finally gets to have sleeves....his arms are staying warm #I honestly had a blast coming up with these 4 outfits and I'm very curious to see which one will win!#PLEASE feel free to blast me some constructive criticism too #I *am* doing this to learn (as well as have fun)#forgive me for not having these polls linked until later

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fandomrose · 5 months

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Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you."

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him.

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree.

"Please do."

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation.

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up.

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far.

"Beloved, lift your arms."

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned.

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes."

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it.

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you."

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide."

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and,

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?"

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we."

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him.

"Beloved, lay down."

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times.

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind.

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

#hsr x reader #hsr sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x reader #i needed fluffy hypnosis so i wrote it myself yay #i headcanon him as someone who would excessively use pet names because he finds them cute #and a sense of ownership but shush #but hes really just a tired dude whose life is spiralling out of control and i just want to hug him and stroke his wings #maybe reverse comfort for him next #i have a Neuvillette amd a clive rosfield fic in the works #i want to write for Aventurine but im a bit scared #also ratio #i love him more than i did when he was introduced thanks 2.1 #anyway excited for patch 2.2 Sunday. wanna see him go even crazier but also see him nice and relaxed you know?#the duality of man #this isnt my best work ever but im happy ish with it and just want to get it out.#if you do have constructive criticism thats fine please and thank you #they could never make me hate you sunday #i love him even more after 2.2

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cannibalgenders · 4 months

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I’ve had some time to marinate on FH:JY and while I certainly enjoyed a lot of aspects I found the themes of the season to be very…impotent? And I think it has to do with the world building and the mechanics of DnD.

Like, if the theme of the season is rage and how to express it in a healthy manner or allow it to totally overwhelm you, it simply does not gel with the fact that canonically all of the Bad Kids are being explicitly trained to “impose their will on the world through violence”, to quote Aguefort himself.

It’s a DnD game, largely conflicts will be resolved through combat. Which is why we can get the Bad Kids saying things like “I don’t need vengeance, I don’t need justice” in roleplay scenes, and then immediately switching into ‘combat mode’, where, in a season SUPPOSEDLY about rage getting away from you, Riz can say ‘cut off his head so he won’t be Revivified’ about another teenager, and there will be no story consequences.

Because in roleplay scenes it’s very easy to insist you do not need the blade of Ankarna, but vengeance isn’t really about your family or your friends or the people who’ve hurt you who you love. It’s about the people you hate. Your enemies. And DnD demands that enemies be killed.

The story felt unfulfilling because by the time the Bad Kids rejected Ankarna’s justice they’d already used it. Hell, they wound up revivifying the Rat Grinders but explicitly skipping over Kipperlilly. Was that vengeance? Was that justice?

And Lucy Frostblade! She didn’t express any emotions about her killers, her friends. Did the Bad Kids enact justice on her behalf? How did she feel about it? Was it just, in her eyes?

This rant is getting too long but it bothers me how Kipperlilly’s rage and violence is considered “wrong” and “bad” and she’s considered a disgrace to Aguefort when the school is EXPLICITLY FOR making children into violent outlaws. You’re telling me Arthur Aguefort wouldn’t find it hilarious that she threatened someone’s grave with a backhoe to get a good grade? Come on.

#kipperlilly copperkettle #arthur aguefort #the rat grinders #dimension 20 #dimension 20 meta #fantasy high #fhjy #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #lucy Frostblade #sometimes the internet’s favorite white boy needs constructive criticism please don’t yell at me

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cultofsappho · 5 days

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So I really miss fanfic writing, but I haven't had the time in a while. But I still have the fan-creation itch constantly. Anyway, long story short, I made a overly-serious/historical-themed custom dust jacket for RWRB in canva:

I'm not super fond of the font, but I was really indecisive about it, and decided to go with one similar to the original cover. If I change it, I'll update this post with the new version!

I will almost definitely make more of these! It was so much fun! Since I went with a historical love letter vibe on this one, I think i'll do a more colorful/fun version next.

Its dimensions are made to fit the collector's edition, but I think it could be sized down to fit the paperback. Both a printable version without the fold lines & paper texture, and a version of the cover only, are under the cut:

#rwrb #graphic designers please sound off in the replies with constructive criticism!! i'm an artist but graphic design is sooo far out of my scop #red white and royal blue #cmq #casey mcquiston #fanworks

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love-jelly · 9 months

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PROBLEM.

sypnosis: you've always had a problem with shutting your mouth but toji has never had a problem with helping you.

contents: implied breathplay, manhandling, messy, toji can't take a joke, using you (sort of??), & face fucking

word count: 650+

a/n: my first work! hopefully, i'll improve a lot very soon but until then, you can send constructive criticism in my asks! hope you enjoy!! minors dni. ageless / blank / minor blogs will be blocked if seen interacting!

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you've been here before. with toji, you mean. in this predicament, in this situation. tears running down your cheeks, mixing with the drool that sticks to the lower half of your face and some of his thighs. red welts upon your pretty and otherwise unblemished skin. and it started hours ago.

it started at a company dinner, where you got mouthy and started telling people toji couldn't get you off (an obvious lie). you honestly didn't expect people to believe you because you thought it was a funny, easy joke that everyone thought was fake.

what you didn't expect was that toji would hear about it and come to you directly.

"toji, this is so unnecessary, it was just a joke!"

he stops and stares with you, still holding onto your wrist that he had been holding since he dragged you out of the party.

"unnecessary? you wanna act like you don't whine and moan just from fucking yourself on my thigh, baby? you wanna act like just having the tip of my cock in you doesn't make you a mess, begging for more?"

"it was just a joke! i thought it was funny!" you argue with a sweet pout, eyebrows furrowed and a blush lightly covering your face from the lewd descriptions of your rather intimate moments together. "it is funny!" a clearly wrong answer judging from the way he clenches his jaw, continuing to drag you home.

and now. you're at the foot of the bed, knees red from kneeling too long and pussy dripping slick onto the floor, making the floor filthy, just like your mouth.

"cat got your tongue, huh?" he roughly pats your face with one hand. the other is occupied, holding your hair in a messy ponytail, keeping your mouth attached to his cock. "what you can't talk? you were so mouthy earlier, baby" he laughs condescendingly as he finally pulls you off his cock, finally letting you breathe.

"'m sorry, i promise" you weakly whimper. "'m sorry, toji, i swear!" the big droplets tears from your eyes dropping onto your breasts and toji can't recall a time you've ever looked prettier than this. big red lips swollen from being used, your big eyes gazing up at him, begging for forgiveness because that's right, he's in charge, never you. your perfectly molded body (by him) that's just so perfect for him because you belong to him.

"are you really sorry? if you were really sorry, you would've thought beforehand and wouldn't have pulled that shit in the first place," he laughs down at you, as if he didn't, couldn't, wouldn't believe you.

you pout, eyes impossible big with desperation for him to believe you as you start pawing at his thigh desperately. "no! i promise i really won't do it again! i promise! jus' lemme cum, please, toji."

he clicks his tongue in his mouth and pushes you back onto his cock "how am i supposed to believe you, huh? you always end up fucking- embarrassing- me- and you never- fucking- learn-" he emphasizes words through the rough snaps of his hips, filling your throat with more of him.

he feels you whine and cry around him, making vibrations that feed into his pleasure. feeling the tiniest bit of sympathy, he asks in a faux sweet voice, "do you promise this time? really really promise me?"

he pulls you off his cock for a second to allow you to answer him "yesyesyes, please, i'll be good, i'll be so good, promise, toji! just wanna feel you in me" sobs racking your smaller frame, desperate for the relief you’ve been searching for.

he sadistically smirks and you already know you're not gonna get what you really, desperately want. "ride me, then, baby. see if you can make yourself cum on me all on your own. see if this is still funny."

it's not that he can't make you orgasm, he just won't.

(wherein reader always needs toji's help to get her off, whether it be his rough fingers rubbing her clit or him using his knowledge of all your sweet spots to his (or rather your) advantage)

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if you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or consider following me!

a/n: honestly, i wrote this with gojo in mind but changed it to toji because i can't really imagine gojo being super physically rough during intimacy on purpose 😭 anyway, thank you for reading! my asks are open for any reqs :')

#smut #jjk smut #jjk #jjk x reader #constructive criticism welcome!#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #jujutsu toji #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #daddy toji #please toji ONE CHANCE

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star--anon · 1 month

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Minho, who moved into Gally's childhood house

unknowingly also moving into an active War Zone™

it's Gally VS Thomas

they're both ghosts

they're fighting over who gets to haunt the place

both of them have attached themselves to the house already and are trying to convince the other to un-attach themselves

attaching oneself to a place is a simple procedure

In fact, it's so simple it can happen on accident for a lot of ghosts

like Thomas, who thought the house was cute and spent so long there that he just woke up attached one day

meanwhile, Gally grew up in the house as a living human and has haunted the place for three years

So he's not about to let some silly accidental ghost take it away from him

any number of ghosts can be attached to a property, but traditionally, only one ghost haunts it

the others just kind of... meander

most ghosts lose interest in staying connected to the physical world

and enjoy floating mindlessly in some forgotten corner of an establishment, wandering in their waking dreams

but Thomas and Gally aren't those kinds of ghosts

Minho isn't even aware of the fight between the two at first

Thomas and Gally don't really pay attention to Minho either

He's not really a "human being with feelings"

he's just another part of the house

that the haunting ghost gets the right to mess with

until Minho starts tearing down the old wallpaper, renovating the showers, replacing the mirrors, etc.

the two ghosts quickly set their rivalry aside to drive away the parasite that's demolishing their precious haunting place

they start off small

Minho can't find his keys, his TV remote is always missing, why is his toothbrush in the toilet, where did all the windows go, was this area of the house always this dark, why is it so cold, why are his blankets trying to strangle him

(okay Gally went too far with that one)

Step 2: ants start stealing his food, faces appear behind Minho in the mirror, rats drown themselves in his morning coffee, the doors open and close loudly at night, the basement stairs try to chew off Minho's feet

(okay Gally went too far again)

before they can get to Step 3, Minho catches on

he guessed that there was a ghost in the house at Step 1

Step 2 made him realize the ghost might be more malicious than he thought

he starts tossing food into the campfire as offerings for whatever spirit is messing with him

a ghost is kind of like a vampire. They need permission to do certain things

such as eating physical food

Thomas, who died last week and is unused to no longer being able to eat, eagerly accepts whatever Minho throws out of the flames

he stops messing with Minho

Minho notices the decline in ghostly antics and increases the food offerings

Gally is offended that Thomas is so easily swayed

"This is why you would've never made a good haunting ghost"

"Okay but you haven't tasted his pasta. He makes really good pasta."

as respectful and knowledgeable as Minho is, he's wrong on one thing: He thinks there's only one ghost

He buys a larger bed and another pillow, inviting the ghost (just one) to sleep. He puts out a second toothbrush (just one). He makes a second dinner (just one) and buys a second kitchen chair (just one)

for all his kindness, Minho only ever invites one ghost

so of course, Thomas and Gally fight over who gets to be Minho's ghost

(at some point you have to wonder if maybe they just like fighting)

"Just haunt the house. You love this house. You've haunted it for three years or something."

"You're just saying that because you want to haunt Minho"

"You want to haunt Minho too!"

"He's in my house! He's mine!"

"I literally died last week! I deserve some sympathy! I'm vulnerable and sad right now! You have no sympathy!!"

"You can get the pasta that he throws into the fire"

they draw hearts in the mirror (Thomas erases Gally's)

they helpfully write grocery lists for him (Gally tears up Thomas')

they drive away pests from his garden (both try to take credit for what's technically a team effort)

Thomas coaxes a stray cat into the house and is heartbroken when Minho tosses the cat back outside, not knowing it's a gift

Gally offers his old childhood toys (memories are the most precious thing a ghost can give) by putting them on Minho's bed and then sulks when Minho doesn't touch them

(he's afraid of angering whatever put them there by messing up the toys)

Thomas irons out Minho's clothes

Gally steals clothes from random passerby's and gifts them to Minho

(definitely Gally going too far again)

(Minho is frazzled by the increase of naked people outside his house)

they TOTALLY fall in love with him during the process

this is important and 100% normal

they start worrying when Minho takes too long to come home from work

Gally and Thomas even detach themselves from their beloved house to go looking for Minho

(who fell asleep at work 'cause his boss overworked him)

(picture that scene from Ratatouille)

Gally drapes a blanket over Minho's exhausted body while Thomas angrily goes to find his boss

he spends the rest of the night terrorizing him

(Gally is impressed by Thomas' ferocity. He doesn't tell him that, of course)

Minho is losing his mind

because he is the receiver (the victim, really) of a ghost's affection

unbeknownst to him, he is in fact the victim of TWO ghosts' affection

and how is he supposed to maintain his reputation as a normal person... if he's starting to feel affection for a ghost

it ends with all three of them kissing btw

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garebeary · 2 years

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I went on an anime convention at some point and it was effing amazing.

In this context, Kirby is super excited to be in this convention and Tiff/Fumu is accompanying him! Oh yeah, and King Dedede has had disagreements with the staff…

I might post multiple fanart of characters going to an anime convention in the future. Be on the lookout for more anime convention-based fan artwork!

#constructive criticism please #retro-ish #illustration #digital art #kirby #king dedede #retro anime #retro anime-ish #anime convention #waddle dee's weapon shop #kirby: right back at ya!#hoshi no kaabii #please reblog #no reposting on hateful platforms #fanart #digital illustration #garebeary

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xuanbaoo · 3 months

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Love Blooms in Early Spring.

masterlist || rules

content: pre-timeskip tsukishima, fem!reader, fluff, reverse comfort and angst if you squint?, third year tsukishima and reader, yamaguchi mentioned.

warnings: mentions of divorce, isolation, and neglect maybe?, not proof read very well, kind of scattered plot? if i'm missing anything feel free to tell me!<3

word count: 1.6k

Tsukishima Kei never was one to enjoy physical touch. It made him feel uncomfortable, vulnerable even. After the divorce of his parents when he was 14, he preferred the known which wouldn't hurt him. His mother slowly became more distant, leading to him spending more and more time alone. He didn't mind, he preferred it this way.. right?

It was a chilly spring day, the air in the classroom refreshing and light. You always liked spring. Early spring, specifically. You loved how the chilly air hit your skin waking you up. You breathed the cold air into your lungs as the teacher babbled on about kinetic energy and boring school stuff.

Tsukishima didn't care for spring. It was cold and wet. Not to mention the constant rain that seemed to only occur in the afternoons to evenings. The only thing good about spring, he thought, was how you always shone brighter than ever.

Ever since first year, you two have been in the same class. The first time he noticed you was when your class had to do presentations on electron configuration. You raised your hand to present, saving everyone from the wheel picker. You presented with this air of confidence, and though Tsukishima wasn't usually one to pay attention to class presentations, you had this overwhelming presence which seemed to demand attention.

He's noticed you more and more after that presentation. He's noticed you pay close to no attention during class but somehow get grades on par with his or even better which he will never admit, you are pretty popular with your classmates, you always are the first to leave after the dismissal bell, and what stood out most to him was that you always—without fail—smile at him when you catch him looking. Oh how he loved your smile. He was growing fond of you, though he would desperately like to deny that fact for as long as he can.

You noticed him staring a few times, but you paid it no mind. You two, though having been classmates for almost three years, have barely spoke. Sure, a few pleasantries have been exchanged but never an actual conversation.

Today, in class, that would change. The teacher was assigning a partner project, and paired you with Tsukishima. As she let the class begin getting to work, you look over and see an empty seat beside him. Smiling, you collect all your books and plop down in the seat next to him, scooting your desk so it was adjacent his.

"Hi." He said awkwardly as you set up station next to him. Looking up at him with a smile, you also greeted him. He was suddenly hyper aware of every small movement he made. Where does he put his hands? Was his breath normal? Could she hear his heart which was going at around 100mph?

"Tsukishima? Earth to Tsukishima?" You said, snapping him out of whatever trance he was in. "Ah, yes, sorry." he responded, coughing and adjusting himself in his seat.

You spent most of the time just talking about the project, and he was realizing how easy you are to talk to. Looking up at the clock, you realized there was around ten minutes left of class and you two were halfway done the assignment already. "We work so quickly." I said with a smile, pointing out the time to him. Tsukishima nods in agreement, slightly surprised at the rate in which you two got so much done.

"Uhh, if you'd like we could finish up today at my house." He offered impulsively, almost biting his tongue at the words which flowed surprisingly easily. From the little time you two spoke, you could tell he was introverted. You gave him a warm smile. "That would be great, heres my number, text me when I can come over!" You said, quickly scribbling your number onto a piece of paper and sliding it over to him. He took the paper and thanked you nonchalantly, but inside he was freaking out!

As the dismissal bell rung, you, as usual, quickly collected all your stuff and put the desk you borrowed back to where it was before, saying a quick goodbye to Tsukishima, then leaving.

At home, Tsukishima just stared at your contact on his phone. He had been cleaning for the past.. very long time, making sure his room is spotless before you came over. He was struggling to find a way to text you. 'Be here at 5:30.' sounded too demanding, but 'You can come at 5:30' sounded like he was too eager (it doesn't, he's just overthinking). He eventually settled on: 'Come over 5:30', which was met with 'Okay!' and a thumbs up emoticon from you.

You were at his house at exactly 5:30, knocking on his door, which swung open immediately as he had been waiting anxiously by the door for your arrival. "Hi! I brought gifts." I said with a smile, handing him a box of homemade strawberry shortcake. A surprised look adorned his face. "Thanks." He said, a small smile forming on his lips.

He led you into his house, placing the cake in the kitchen and leading you straight towards his bedroom, trying to avoid Akiteru teasing him later for finally bringing a girl home.

As you walked in his room, you were shocked to see how neat and just overall cleanly it is. "Wow, your room is very well kept." you remarked, which was met with a grumble from him as he forgot to hide some childhood photos. I noticed his volleyball jersey hanging on the wall and smiled. "You play volleyball?" You asked, looking back at him. "Yeah, since I was little." He replied, sitting down on his bed. You smiled, "That's so great, my little brother also plays." you said, sitting down next to him and getting out your books.

The rest of the afternoon was mostly talk about volleyball, the assignment, how siblings were annoying, etc. You evidently got more comfortable with each other as the night progressed, and even exchanged some playful banter. By the end of the night, you two spent more time just chatting and laughing away than doing the assignment, but in the end getting it done.

After the assignment was done, you both didn't want the night to end, so you ended up just putting your school supplies aside and chatting. "So, what do you plan to do after high school?" You asked, looking over at him with a smile. "University as an arts history major. And i'm going to keep playing volleyball, thats for sure." he said, "What about you?". "I'm going to university as a Psychology major, and maybe after that law school." you responded with a smile, followed by a short silence.

"Gosh, why didn't we talk sooner?" you said, breaking the silence as you look over to the blonde sitting beside you. "Because you never approached me, idiot." Tsukishima mumbled. "Well you never approached me either, Einstein." you retorted, but there was no heat behind your words. You both laughed it off as it became later and later, and eventually you had to bid your adieu's to your new friend, heading home.

During the rest of your third year, you and Tsukishima grew closer and closer. He introduced you to Yamaguchi, and you two became quick friends. You fit perfectly into his life, and soon you three became inseparable. You soon began to grow fond of Tsuki. Be it his constant teasing, nagging you about taking care of yourself, and little things he does to show he cares, you loved it all.

One chilly spring afternoon, after all classes had ended, you, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima went to a coffee shop to study for a test you all had in a week. "No, it's obviously 3^4-2 dimwit. If you'd look here, then—" Tsukishima rambled, but was cut off by Yamaguchi's constant coughing. "'m sorry guys.. I think i'm sick." Yamaguchi said in a raspy voice. "Yams, you should get home. You don't look too great." you said, worried for your friend's wellbeing. Tsukishima agreed. "Alright then, I'll go home." Yamaguchi said, getting his stuff and saying his goodbyes before leaving the shop.

This left just you and Tsukishima to your bantering. You were ranting to him about how these questions were far more advanced than what she teaches on the board, meanwhile he could be making some snarky comeback, he stays quiet, content with just listening to you speak. He smiled and gave you amused nods as you rambled about how annoying this subject was, and how kissable your lips looked right now. He was scared, he didn't know how you'd react.

But you were so close, he could just reach up and.. he kissed you. This immediately shut you up, and at first you froze in surprise but quickly melted into the kiss. After you both pulled away, his face was bright red with embarrassment as yours had a rosy tint. "Oh? Tsukishima Kei likes me?" you teased as he looked up at you and rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah tease me all you want shorty, who was the one kissing back?" He retorted as he tried playing off how nervous and flustered he was. You just laughed it off.

As you both quieted down, he looked into your eyes with the most genuine expression.

"I like you, Y/N. I've liked you for a long time." He said, barely loud enough for you to hear. He was okay with your kiss, your touch. He was okay with you. And maybe.. maybe he didn't want to be alone anymore.

"I like you too, Kei." You said, as the shop door opened, the cool spring air hitting both of you. "I like you too."

disclaimer: i do not own any of these characters! this is also my first time writing this type of fanfic guys so please cut me some slack.. sorry if its hard to follow or just bad writing!

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