#I may or may not polish these in the future

[krussyarts]

LONG TIME NO AUTI- SONIC

[greyfics]

even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

pairing: the ghoul (cooper howard) x reader fic type: enemies to lovers, no smut, mild spice + eventual fluff slow burn meter: ◈◈◇◇◇ word count: 3.8K inspo: TPD lyric prompt list, reblogged on main reader type: assumed wastelander background, gender neutral, 'I don't need a knight to save me', assumed negative views of BoS, assumed gun for hire cw: strong language, violence, reference to fictional drugs, mild dismemberment summary: reader is a gun for hire who has gotten themselves into a bit of trouble in the form of a moderate bounty with a local segment of the brotherhood- and cooper howard knows he can get all the drugs he needs for what seems like an easy job.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"We can do this all day, darlin'. Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leavin' here with you." you feel the pressure of a pistol barrel pressing against the base of your skull from behind, and a disgruntled, defeated sigh slips through your lips. The game is up- you're out of ammo, down to the ripper hanging from your side, and 'gun against the brain-cage' is the indisputable checkmate.

Up to this point, you'd been pretty successful in shaking off the swathes of bounty hunters and jet-scrounging raiders that'd been on your tale since you became an enemy to the brotherhood- which, nowadays, seemed to be a pretty fucking easy feat to accomplish. The rusty knights were getting a little big for their oversized, several-tonne boots- and you had never been a fan of self-asserting authorities using their power in the name of 'order', especially not when they could hardly organise their own little sectors across the expansive, sparse remains of the USA.

As good with a revolver as you are, today it seems your luck has ran out and your karma has caught up with you, because you've finally met your match in a ghoul with a face so smug you wish you at least had a chance to slap it before losing the game of cat and mouse you'd been playing for a couple days now across Junktown. Your face collides into concrete and a quick click combines with the feel of steel against your wrists, The Ghoul's threat having evolved into a promise.

You spit a ball of blood and saliva from your mouth, wrought up by the hard impact with the ground below, "Alright, you win this round you freak- I'll come with you, just get these off of me." You hear a smirk from above, "Now how stupid do you fuckin' think I am? No, I gave you a chance to come willingly, you chose to shoot me in the leg. Lucky I ain't returned the favour." He gives you a light, sharp kick in the side with the tip of his boot, "Up. We got a long way to travel, and sooner we get there, sooner I get paid. I'll be reminding you now that I only get a bonus for bringing you alive, so make my life hell and I'll live without the extra caps." "Not exactly easy when my-" you hear the chick of a safety being cocked, and awkwardly shuffle back until you can jut sharply up onto your knees and slowly stand, turning to glare daggers into your now captor. The Ghoul's expression remains stiffly affixed with the wry, smug facade he bears: relaxed, squinting eyes peeking out above a thin, ever-upturned lip- you swear to yourself to you'll smack that smile off his face- but by all accounts, beneath the withered, decaying skin that had festered in his ghoulish transformation, the man had the stature (and admittedly, the jawline) of a filmstar.

You shake off the irritable possibility of monster like this getting lucky with the gene pool as a calloused hand secures a vice grip on one of your wrists and tugs you in suit as it's owner sets into motion, dragging you away from the remnants of an old civilisation and towards a military base miles away you are all too acquainted with.

You had been so caught up in the wild ride of adrenaline that came with being on the lamb that you briefly detached yourself from the catalyst of the chase- but as concrete and clay inevitably crumbles away to distant sandy dunes and cacti, the dread stirs in your stomach like a plague. It was easier to wave off the consequences of your actions when you weren't being marched towards the gallows to face them- it wasn't like you made an attack on the organisation. You kill one knight trashing up a town in the name of redundant technology, and suddenly you're on a hit-list. You know The Ghoul probably doesn't know this, and you know for certain that even if you tried to give the man a sob story he wouldn't care. This was it. "You about to be sick?" You snap from your pessimistic daze at the sudden interruption of silence, "No. Why?" "You look like you just ate a mouldy iguana, that's why- and I don't want sick on my boots." You let out an irked groan, and sharply snap your head to face the horizon in the opposite direction to your captor. You hope this will satiate his sour jabs for the time being-

Your hope is crushed five minutes later.

"Go on then. I'm bored shitless and I'm outta jet, so spill." He says with an almost theatrical exasperation in his voice, "Spill what, exactly?" you coldly respond in a mute tone, focus still fixed on the horizon to the west, "Well what's the big story? Someone's always gotta be the victim when they got a bounty on their head, so what's the tragic tale behind 'Y/N', huh?" the muscles in your neck and shoulders tense up at the mention of your name- you weren't exactly a known associate or long-time rival to the brotherhood, and the wanted poster you had wrestled from the stiff fingertips of a raider last week only had a sketch and a scrawled account of the incident. You falter for a moment before replying, but ardently avoid taking the bait, "If your plan is to get me to tell you how we got to where we are right now just so you can mock me, then I think I'd rather carry on enjoying the view, if you don't mind." The sweet-toned sarcasm at the end of your sentence seeps with venom, and the hostility it implies does not slip away from your adversary.

This time, his laugh is a soft, whisper of a chuckle- something spiteful, foreboding- followed by matching words, "You should hear what your little community had to say about you for a couple caps and a promise not to shoot anybody- well, anybody else-" his words cut into something personal, then- and though you would normally know that attacking someone with your hands cuffed behind your back is never going to end in your favour, at this moment you couldn't care less as you swing your leg round in a swift roundhouse motion, and raise your knee towards the only place you can think to leave a mark-

You hit your target, but instead of howls of pain you are met with a split second of awkward silence as the ghoul cocks his head, unimpressed, before slamming it into your own, sending you staggering back a few paces-

Before you can reorient your vision, a heavy dull force plummets into your ribs- the sand cushions your blow slightly better than the concrete you met face-to-face with an hour ago, at least. Your arms, however, are not grateful to be pressed beneath you as a familiar, withered hand pushes into your throat, putting as much pressure on your trapped limbs when your upper body presses back as it does on your esophagus, halting your air supply as he lowers himself down to a kneel and fixes your gaze onto his,

"If I wasn't already a walking corpse, that could've really hurt- not a very nice thing to do to someone just tryna have a little bit of light conversation now, is it?" All you can do is glower through eyes blinded by the sun, which gleams behind the shadow of the ghoul's head, bearing on it a smile tweaked with frustration- you need to breathe- you can't keep this up, your heartbeat is louder than the sun in your eyes and-

The pressure releases. You turn your head to the ground and suck in air between dry, heavy coughs, and after you've finally steadied your breath, you find a minor fleck of relief in being hoisted up from the ground this time instead of scrabbling to get up at gunpoint. You wonder, perhaps, if this is some small act driven by guilt- perhaps this man had a conscience once and a set of values beyond doing what it takes to ensure one's own survival. You were a gun for hire yourself, so it would be hypocritical to criticise your captor for his line of work- mostly, you preferred to stick with jobs guarding merchant caravans and to take out bands of raiders harassing the cities you passed through, but you never questioned the legitimacy of the requests you received, or the cargo you oversaw; you had settled for a little while, having stuck around the same little settlement for a few years now and had started to develop some semblance of a connection to the people there-

or so you thought.

You know you're going to be walking for a while- so with a resigned breath, you begin saying what little there is left to say about your present situation, "Well, you probably know most of what I can tell you from the sounds of things, but I guess there's nothing else for me to do right now, and the horizon is the same no matter where you go around here. I guess you could say we're in similar lines of work, but that's not really what got me in trouble with The Brotherhood. They think they can rock up in a power armour with a logo on it and wreak havoc as they please because it's for 'the greater good', but they leave towns half-destroyed when they pass through. I didn't want that to happen to... well, I didn't like the sound of that happening where I was. So, dude gets out of his power armour and starts waving guns around screaming about some piece of pre war tech or the other, and I tell him with... a strong choice of words, to get going. He starts running for the power armour, guns blazing- and I just have better aim, I guess. Not even like I got paid for killing him, either. Maybe that would've made this whole thing a little bit sweeter."

Your profession leaves a silence hanging in the air for a little while after, but it feels appropriate. The dunes filter sand from the far west to respond to your story- the horizon quivers, but only through the illusion of heat; the sand dries your eyes before they have reason to shed tears. A loaded sigh escapes the ghoul in front of you, and the clasp on your wrist softens but for a moment before stiffening to pull you onwards, "Yep, well, caps keep you going a little longer round these parts, but money can't solve all your problems." "You should tell that to the Brotherhood. They seem to be doing pretty well for all the wealth they've hoarded- can even pay big time bounty hunters to do their shitwork from the looks of things." You retort, but after a moment follow up with, "Wish I could say I was upset about it but hell, if I were you, I'd turn me in too."

You hear that soft chuckle again, but when you turn around to catch a look at the face that matches it, you see relaxed muscles and a far-off stare- he won't let you go, but he has let his guard down but a little bit- perhaps when we get closer to my story's end, he'll even let me walk to my death with my hands unbound.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

After trudging on in silence for a while, head bowed to your fatalistic contemplations, you find as you drag yourself out of the pit in your head and look over the horizon once more that the scene has changed: the atomic orange dewdrops spattering the sky not long ago have quickly to faded into a bruised overhanging shadow of violent, lavender, crimson; twilight approaches, and you're still surrounded by desert hills and illusions.

One of these illusory quivers catches your sharp eye, a dark blip that has appeared somewhere in that distance; it's moving, but it isn't close enough for you to determine whether it's just a trick of the heat or whether it's something heading in your direction. Your brow furrows, but you say nothing yet.

Within a minute, the object comes into better focus- or, rather, the creature. Your heart skips a beat, and you open your mouth to utter some kind of warning, managing to rasp, "Get the handcuffs off of me." "Now, darlin', I thought we managed to get past this already-" "No-" You tug your bound wrists, pulling the ghoul into your side- his other arm steadies itself against your shoulder before slipping up to your jaw and dragging it to face him, his own clenched and unaccompanied by a smile this time- the pallid complexion of your own face gives him enough pause for you to blurt in a fruitless, strained whisper, "Deathclaw."

If The Ghoul's skin could have paled more than it already had in his lifeless state, then it might have at that moment. The tight grip holding you against him slackens completely and you thud onto your ass as he draws his guns and casts you a playfully pitiful glance from above, shrugging and saying, "Sorry, darlin', guess I forgot to pick up the keys." He steps in front of you as a curse rips out of your throat in the sudden panic that ensues, and you try to muster enough brain cells in this moment to figure out a way of not dying, prematurely, and becoming just another skeletal curio.

There's the back-up plan, the 'if shit goes south' plan that you still hadn't gone through with because of the possible dismemberment that it might entail- but you had not been unarmed when you had been restrained earlier, and the phantom hum of a ripper blade always strapped to your waist as your last resort. You won't be able to wield it with any competence with your hands restrained as they are, but you can hit the power button from your current position-

Though, usually, you'd prefer to do it when the blade was already in your hand, not digging into the side of your leg.

shredded leg is better than deathclaw snack. Your astute analysis confirms your decision, and with a grunt and a whack, the blade starts chugging into a steady whirring action by the will of the dregs of an energy cell embedded inside- the next couple of seconds are far too long.

The blade begins it's excursion into your thigh as the gunslinging ghoul whips around at the sound, eyes wide at the sudden display of spraying crimson. You scream, struggle to try to align the cuffs without jerking your shoulders out of place. The deathclaw bounds into the mid-distance, closing in upon it's approach- it caught your scent before you could even see it's silhouette-

The tip disappears as your leg reflexively jerks, responding to the dancing jig of the chainsaw blade- you see pathetic sparks as the thing bounces off of the cuffs- strong enough to sever a leg, too rusted and battered to cut through metal. Your plan is failing. Your leg is bleeding. The cowboy falters as the deathclaw closes further-

You make a snap decision: fingers are easier to fix than legs.

You twist your wrist, and the pain just melts into the already existing burn emanating from your leg- a bloody, three-fingered stump slips from it's cage, and you swing your still-cuffed hand around in a fluid movement to drag the ripper from its sheath within your leg, snapping the cord that ties it to your waist-

You hear a frenzied firing of a revolver, but the approaching thunks are unimpeded- and though you know your leg may give way when the adrenaline finally dies, and though you know you need to find the two fingers you lost before sand vipers snatch them up and you're known as three-fingered y/n for the rest of your life- you launch yourself from the ground on your good leg, and stagger towards the approaching beast.

You grew up in the wastelands. You grew up in a settlement up here that, like any of the rest, was constantly plagued by critters and beasts- and if you were taught anything by the survivors that surrounded you, it was the following:

If you can't blow the bastard up, get 'em in the belly.

The deathclaw- a baby, thankfully- has it's gaze fixated on the man that had in the past half a minute become it's primary aggressor- so when you stumble forward, low and bleeding, with what to the creature is just another indistinguishable bit of metal in your hands, it does not see reason to change the track of it's jump.

As it launches itself above you, you pray to lady luck that you hit your mark.

An ear-splitting yowl and a sudden muffled crash tells you she's listening, for once.

Finally, after a few ragged breaths, the adrenaline wears off and you feel the weight of your body pressing into the wounds that liberated you- and the blueberry sky fades to black as you become weightless. This time, your fall is of your own accord- and this time, something stops you from hitting the ground.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

When you come to, you do not open your eyes at first- awake though you might be, your body is heavy with exhaustion. Before your encounter with the ghoul, you had been on the run for weeks, and in the last twenty four hours had not had time to stay put long enough to sleep. Coupled with the rough journey and the blood loss, you couldn't move if you wanted to. That being said, in those few dark minutes, a few things of note still catch your attention.

There is a faint crackling to your side, and the lulling warmth of a fire that brushes in waves against your face- and though you feel the silky grains of sand cushioning most of your resting body, your head lays higher up, neck leaning up to a more elevated surface- your attention snaps to the light sensation of fingertips absently grazing your neck in a repeating pattern, and the distant hum of an old country song embedded into muscle memory. The surrounding sensations are a strange comfort for all the brutal imagery this post apocalyptic world usually beholds; but it is brief, as your neck tenses, giving away your lucidity. The hand pauses, lifts- settles somewhere to the side.

When you dare to open your eyes, you are unsurprised to see the question-begging smirk and sharp eyes peering down from above, "Have a good nap?" You bolt upright, and immediately regret it when the bending of your leg snags one of the stitches you didn't know had been sewed into you until just now. Defeated, you flop back down, turning your head to the side to gaze into the dying embers of the fire beside you- praying you can brush off the flush of blush creeping into your face to the influence of the fire. Eventually you garner the courage to speak, "Feels like I've only been out for an hour." He snorts, shaking his head, "You went down around sunset, and it'll be sunrise in a couple hours." This catches you by surprise, and not just because of the amount of time you've lost, "What happened to getting your caps as soon as possible? Lost a lot of time waiting." He frowns, but does not lose his grin, "You trying to get yourself killed? 'Cos you've done a damn fine job of that so far. No, I've just been doing some thinking." "Congratulations. I'm proud of you." His eyes narrow into slits and he tuts at your sarcasm, following your gaze into the fire, "See, it could be argued that I would've been minced ghoul splattered n' buried six feet under the dunes if you hadn't gone all psycho slicing yourself up like that to get that baby deathclaw where it hurts." "That was a baby?-" "Anyway, guess my point is I might be willing to do a lot of things, but I still got my principles- only human thing I got left, probably. So I'd say I owe it you to not kill you at least. When you can walk, we'll go east to- well, to what's left of Shady Sands, and then you can do whatever the fuck you want."

You consider his words, and not knowing how to express appreciation or what to begin to make of this mysterious stranger and his obscure appeal, you find yourself rejecting this suggestion, though you don't know why- and so naturally, you dig yourself into a hole, "Well, you could also say that I would have died of blood loss if you didn't stitch my leg up." He studies you then for a minute, before shrugging and clasping your hands together at the wrists. You begin to stammer indecipherable protest and with a smirk he pulls you up, your hands still held rigid in your lap by his own, his head resting on your shoulder as he murmurs, "Now, I'm starting to get the impression you want me to march you up to our friends at the brotherhood just to keep my company." If he can't see the warm hue in your face now, he can certainly feel the heat flushing through your flustered face- you fight against the feeling, if only to make sure you stand a chance of winning this little exchange,

"Says the man who watched me sleep all night." You feel him shrug your comment off as his grin extends, "I might look like a monster, but I was a gentleman once upon a time. Like I say, I got principles." He lets you slip forward out of his grasp when you move to shuffle yourself around. As you do, you feel for the first time you are looking at him properly, sincerely- face to face, on equal grounds, with no threats of death or necessary facades of false confidence. After soaking in as much as you allow yourself to without losing yourself to curiosity entirely, you crossing your arms across your chest, and reply,

"Well, I have principles too- and if you're oh so graciously not turning me into the brotherhood then I still I owe you, so I guess I'll just have to stick around until you nearly get yourself killed again- that's all. No other reason." The ghoul rises, resting a hand on his pistol,

"You tell yourself that, darlin'- I'm gonna enjoy this change of scenery, I think."

[echosong971]

"Dancing in a swirl

Of golden memories

The loveliest lies of all"

[unspuncreature]

a few weeks ago i was briefly possessed by the spirit of writing and spat out a mishmash of concept and ficlet at @renlyslittlerose, who took it all in stride and even encouraged me to post it!

i wanted to wait until i had the bandwidth to polish it, but with my limited time and energy these days, who knows when that will be.

instead, below the cut, i’ve copied the exact original messages i sent with absolutely zero editing. i hope you enjoy my candor and typos.

here’s the obikin bath & body works au ✨🫧🧴🧼

i feel like i’ve talked my way around a bath & body works-adjacent AU without ever actually talking about it but you know what?? today is the day

anakin is a retail associate at a soaps+lotions store and obi-wan comes in looking so handsome and frazzled and confused and anakin is like. oh boy one of these. ok sir who are you buying a gift for 🙄

except he can’t get all the words about because once he’s close enough to greet the man with his normal spiel. he realizes. this is the most amazing smelling man he’s every encountered in his LIFE

so he fumbles through helping obi-wan pick out a gift basket’s worth of assorted but complementary lotions and body scrubs in a daze. hoping and praying to the powers that be that he did not just help this man build the perfect gift basket for his girlfriend or, heaven forbid, his wife. and as anakin walks him all the way to the checkout counter (usually he just points customers in that direction but anakin is LATCHED onto this man), obi-wan turns to him and squints at his name tag and says “you’ve done a lovely job, anakin. i think with your help i’ll be spared my sister’s disappointment.” and anakin’s heart SOARS while his dick threatens to publicly embarrass him because he has never heard his own name sound like THAT coming out of anyone’s mouth ever

he’s almost forward enough to ask the man’s name or even give his phone number, but balks and ends up giving him a discount card for buy one get one half off any purchase of 2 or more body care products. except the expiration date is scratched out and scribbled over hastily in anakin’s handwriting, written to now expire instead at the end of the week

obi-wan blinks but pockets it with a charming smile and thanks anakin AGAIN and anakin thinks he might just pass out at this point

the rest of the shift passes in a haze, anakin makes it home and kicks himself the entire night, barely able to sleep. he barely pays any attention in his classes the next morning, worried that even if obi-wan does return, he has no idea when anakin works and they could very possibly miss each other entirely. that is, if obi-wan even comes back

his coworkers ask him what’s wrong when he clocks in the next day, and anakin grumbles and does his best to put on something akin to a serviceably customer-friendly mask. he drags like a zombie as he resets the seasonal display in the center of the store, snapping into lucidity every time the door chimes and a customer walks in, none of them his warm and spicy, flustered and handsome nameless crush

defeated and debating whether or not to feign illness so he can just go home and languish in bed, anakin hangs up his apron and goes to clock out for his break when he hears another customer enter. he doesn’t turn around, unable to stand any further self induced disappointment. one of his coworkers covering for him on his break greets them. and anakin’s stomach drops

“i made a purchase yesterday actually and was hoping to speak to the associate who assisted me. does… is anakin working today, by chance?”

“oh… i’m so sorry, he’s on break right now, but i’d be more than happy to—“

anakin doesn’t care that he must have bruised his hip on the checkout counter with how quickly he throws his apron back on and whips around to barrel through the store at lightning speed. he can’t even be bothered to bite back the stupid smile on his face.

with all the grace and propriety of any man on a mission of true love, anakin slips in beside his coworker and pipes up over her, locking gazes with the man and relishing the way his eyes widen, then soften and crinkle with warm recognition.

“i’ve got it from here, it’s really not a problem.”

anakin doesn’t even turn to see which of his coworkers he’s just so rudely dismissed. they must leave without fuss though, because then it’s just the two of them, staring at each other over a carefully stacked pyramid of passion fruit and peony hand lotion.

“short break, then? i’d hate to be the reason you forgo your lunch.”

“i’m alright. i’m, uh. i’m not hungry.”

the man smiles knowingly and cocks his head to the side, a lock of hair falling in his face as his eyes crinkle once again, just the faintest hint of age.

anakin thinks he might die. he smells even better than he remembers. it’s like nothing he’s ever smelled before. certainly nothing they sell here, at least. it can’t be cologne, right? jeez. maybe this is how all those ridiculous hallmark movie leads feel when they lock eyes with their favorite generic brown-haired man of the hour. anakin wants to fall into this man’s thick, sweater-clad arms. he wants to wedge his face in the crook of his neck and nuzzle his beard that looks oh-so-soft and inhale him. he wants to get down on one knee and ask if he—

“… can get your help with something?”

oh. right. anakin desperately hopes the flush he can feel crawling hot up his neck isn’t as visible as it feels.

“y-yeah, of course. sorry. what can i do for you?”

tl;dr because i promised myself i’d start my day at 9:50 and it’s now 9:56 BUT

obi-wan coyly asks anakin to help him find products for *himself* and anakin is like. um no offense but are you insane. you smell amazing already. and obi-wan is like 👀 and anakin is like NOT that i was smelling you because i WASNT hahahh that would be SO weird i just. there was a strong breeze. and. man that cologne you’re wearing sure is strong. plus i have a sensitive nose yknow. for example, i can smell that uhhh…… and obi-wan is like. i’m… not wearing any cologne. and anakin is like 😵‍💫

anakin helps him make his purchase just as dazed as he was yesterday. rings him up himself to make sure he gets his special anakin only discount. and then he finally gets obi-wan’s name.

obi-wan asks if he’s free after work. anakin says yes and also he’s free every afternoon for the rest of his life. in case something comes up and obi-wan needs a rain check. or something. obi-wan laughs and says today is just fine.

obi-wan picks him up and they go home and put obi-wan’s brand new body oil to excellent use 😌 the end

[frootaye]

FROOTAYE FAVES SHOWCASE #001

@erindromeda's Video Game Music compilations!

My go-to whenever I'm looking for music to use in videos, ErinDromeda makes themed playlists using videogame music with a unique twist - each mix contains a story!

I really, REALLY appreciate how each playlist is labeled with a specific feeling, vibe, scenario. It's super helpful for my video making purposes! Most of the music in my videos has been found through an ErinDromeda mix, and I looove the variety of choice for anything you could need. You'll find both popular classics you could hear in any YouTube video, and obscure titles that you may have never of heard before!

I have to admit, I haven't been paying much attention to the story, but from what I've seen, It's genuinely interesting and fun. ErinDromeda uses videogame characters and adapts them to be parts of a large, continuous story that expands everytime a new mix is uploaded!

I discovered these playlists when one was recommended to me on the YouTube homepage - one of her more popular mixes, Video Game Music for Dancing in a Shopping Mall at 3AM! I enjoyed the variety and style, and ever since then I visit her channel whenever I'm in search of music for my videos.

For shorter versions of this and other FFS entries, check these out on twitter: https://twitter.com/frootaye/status/1647676584969531392

For videogame music lovers, storytelling enjoyers, video makers and curious viewers, check out ErinDromeda! :D

https://www.youtube.com/@ErinDromeda/featured

[red-moon-at-night]

I DID IT... I wrote the thing in time, posted with 5 minutes to spare until it was officially Not Haruka's birthday anymore.

But yeah! I wrote a one-shot? I literally haven't posted fanfiction in years, and yet here I am with my silly wonderful Milgram hyperfixation, deeply in love with these characters and this series.

I hope you enjoy! Happy birthday, Haruka.

[thefourchimes]

wip weekend except it’s not weekend anymore but we ignore that part—

heyo, thanks to @hellsfireclub for technically tagging me for this AHSFUIAHSIF but yknow what i mean liv <3

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

wips:

four chimes au (as usual)

revenant slayers (ronance stonathan aouad au)

the misadventures of ruth and rose

stranger weirder au

snippet (from revenant slayers):

“Why did you do that?”

Robin vaguely realized her voice was raspier and rougher than usual, though she knew exactly the reason for it.

She watched Nancy look up from that very reason, the slightly bleeding wound on Robin’s arm, blinking and frowning in confusion. “What?”

Robin bit her lips for a moment, trying to unjumble the words in her head to properly explain it.

But why was she trying to do that? To Nancy “The Priss” Wheeler of all people?

“...why did you defend me like that?” Robin swallowed, having figured out the words, but saying it out loud...it felt weird. “I thought you—you hated me, or something...”

Nancy stared.

And just kept staring.

Robin couldn’t help but wince. Great. Fun. She just had to open her big mouth in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and make this already awkward and tense situation even more awkward and tense—

“I don’t hate you.”

aaaand no pressure tagging @willelfanpage @lovefrom-theother-side @she-wont-miss @sunflowersand-bees @lonesome-witching plus if anyone else wants to go for it, go for it yeye

[captainkurosolaire]

Iji

[hrokkall]

Im back in the fucken building again anyways my spoinkly doinkly devil man Lou

Given the caveat that the theory that he's Lucifer from Pony Island is true, he's genuinely a Hysterical character to me. "Imagine Satan sucks at programming" AND now he's a CEO of the shitty games company? There's so many opportunities for both distress and Straight Up Comedy.

[redgoldsparks]

My very last comic for The Nib! End of an era! Transcription below the cut. instagram / patreon / portfolio / etsy / my book / redbubble

The first event I went to with GENDER QUEER was in NYC in 2019 at the Javits Center.

So many of the people who came to my signing were librarians, and so many of them said the same thing: "I know exactly who I want to give this to!" Maia: "Thank you for helping readers find my book!" While working on the book, I was genuinely unsure if anyone outside of my family and close friends would read it. But the early support of librarians and two American Library Association awards helped sell two print runs in first year.

Since then, GENDER QUEER been published in 8 languages, with more on the way: Spanish, Czech, Polish, French, Italian, Norwegian, Portugese and Dutch.

It has also been the most banned book in the United States for the past two years. The American Library Association has tracked an astronomical increase in book challenges over the past few years. Most of these challenges are to books with diverse characters and LGBTQ themes. These challenges are coming unevenly across the US, in a pattern that mirrors the legislative attacks on LGBTQ people. The Brooklyn Public Library offered free eCards to anyone in the US aged 13-21, in an effort to make banned books more available to young readers. A teacher in Norman, Oklahoma gave her students the QR code for the free eCard and lost her job. Summer Boismeir is now working for the Brooklyn Public Library. Hoopla and Libby/Overdrive, apps used to access digital library books, are now banned in Mississippi to anyone under 18. Some libraries won’t allow anyone under 18 to get any kind of library card without parental permission. When librarians in Jamestown, Michigan refused to remove GENDER QUEER and several other books, the citizens of the town voted down the library’s funding in the fall 2022 election. Without funding, the library is due to close in mid-2024. My first event since covid hit was the American Library Association conference in June 2022 in Washington, DC. Once again, the librarians in my signing line all had similar stories for me: “Your book was challenged in our district" "It was returned to the shelf!" "It was removed from the shelf..." "It was moved to the adult section."

Over and over I said: "Thank you. Thank you for working so hard to keep my book in your library. I’m sorry you had to defend it, but thank you for trying, even if it didn't work." We are at a crossroads of freedom of speech and censorship. The future of libraries, both publicly funded and in schools, are at stake. This is massively impacting the daily lives of librarians, teachers, students, booksellers, and authors around the country. In May 2023, I read an article from the Washington Post analyzing nearly 1000 of the book challenges from the 2021-2022 school year. I was literally on route to a festival to talk about book bans when I read a startling statistic. 60% of the 1000 book challenges were submitted by just 11 people. One man alone was responsible for 92 challenges. These 11 people seem to have made submitting copy-cat book challenges their full-time hobby and their opinions are having an outsized ripple effect across the nation. WE NEED TO MAKE THE VOICES SUPPORTING DIVERSE BOOKS AND OPPOSING BOOK BANS EVEN LOUDER. If you are able too, show up for your library and school board meetings when book challenges are debated. Send supportive comments and emails about the Pride book display and Drag Queen story hours. If you see a display you like– for Banned Book Week, AAPI Month, Black History Month, Disability Awareness Month, Jewish holidays, Trans Day of Remembrance– compliment a librarian! Make sure they feel the love stronger than the hate <3

Maia Kobabe, 2023

The Nib

[liliesandthemoon]

I wanted to say that today I finally decided the way I want to shape the ideas I have in my mind into something ''physical''

I was struggling heavily trying to find a format I felt comfortable using and that could capture the way I want my story to go.Only text or fanfics didn't feel good because I struggle heavily describing actions and scenery and everything feels too stiff.I also wanted to make a story that had different options and endings...and that's when it hit me...

I am working on making a Visual Novel! :D

🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

For now I am looking some tutorials on basic coding and It is easy to understand.

I am just very happy to have found the way I want this to go! :)

(In other not so exciting news I caught a cold the moment I was thinking of starting working on it 🥹 But I'll get over this little inconvenient and get into it soon!)

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Monster x Reader Headcanons

You find yourself kidnapped into a half-breed family of monsters and humans, for the purpose of an arranged marriage. Luckily for you, the groom is their only pure human, terribly handsome and charming. You'd perhaps appreciate him more if your eyes weren't glued to his monstrous older sibling...

Content: female reader, monster smut, reader is a shameless monster hoe

[Part 2]

You always imagined such kidnappings to be of theatrical intensity, being scooped up against your will as you scream and flail your arms, longing for a savior. The affair itself felt more like a formal summoning. Mysterious men appeared before you and merely announced that your presence is required, unfortunately without the choice of refusal. Might as well. You packed necessities under their polite supervision and now you're sitting at the table, facing multiple strangers who are casually enjoying their lunch. One of them, the head of the family apparently, explains that half-breeds are in a rather sensitive place when one considers human and monster politics. Thus, every now and then, they will do whatever it takes to strengthen their bonds and show good intent towards both species. This time it's an arranged marriage with a fellow human.

Why you, in particular? No need to concern yourself with intricate details. What matters now is that you are to be married soon and your groom is right here, enthusiastically waving in a welcoming greeting. You scan his features and can't help but agree with the family: he is, by all definitions, a conventionally handsome man. His face is carefully chiseled in most elegant, yet masculine features. His voice is confident but warm, and you can tell by the flock of servants hovering around that he's rather popular. After the luxurious meal he guides you around the imposing home, showing you to your room and briefing you on future responsibilities. Caring, attentive, and several other checks that you can easily mark in his favor.

Yet one vital aspect has been omitted. The prince's mesmerizing beauty was rather swiftly discarded once you realized the presence of his older sibling, a pure monster blood towering above everyone else and idly eating his food, uninterested. You managed to hide your blush in time, but you couldn't help throwing curious glances. Might've been easier for everyone involved if they handed out 'monster lover' badges. Alas, you weren't prepared to ever be faced with the choice.

The next day you're awoken by the murmur of diligent work, as both servants and family pace back and forth about their plans. You sneak your way out - since nothing is yet expected of you - and wander until you find your intended target: the beastly sibling is polishing a bizarre weapon you don't recognize in what seems to be a storage room littered with battle memorabilia. He notices your presence and acknowledges you with a bored nod. You ask whether you may observe his current activity and he looks up at you, raising an eyebrow suspiciously before agreeing. Why would you care? Certainly there's more entertaining things for you to do as a soon-to-be bride.

As you listen to his little stories from the battleground (hardy monsters like him are better off fighting, not socializing), you have to pat your cheeks in desperate attempts to cool down your burning blush. "H-how comes you don't have a partner?" You mutter, almost feverish. "Not interested. Plus, who would dare to marry me?" he jokes, focused on the sharp item in his clawed hands. There it is. Hesitation and diplomacy out the window, you rearrange yourself, smoothening your clothing, and whisper: "Well, if I had to choose, I would've preferred you as my husband..."

Once again he stares at you bewildered. Have you come here to mock him or something? A frail, pretty human like you, about to tie the knot with his stunning younger brother, showing up here and behind everyone's backs to openly flirt with him. Ridiculous beyond comprehension. His skin is thick enough to not mind such twisted humor, so if anything he's impressed by your audacity. Alright, if you've come for jokes, he'll comply. He places his weapon down and fully turns to you. A little scare might teach you to be more respectful with your in-laws next time.

With a speedy movement that's barely registered by your eyes, he pushes you on the floor and pins you by the wrists, lowering himself uncomfortably close to your face. "If you tease me like this, I might not be able to hold back." He says as he forces himself to smile extra hard, revealing the multiple rows of fangs. "In fact, I can't guarantee you'd make it out of here alive." Hopefully he isn't going too far with his tactics. He senses your frantic breathing and is about to apologize for continuing your prank, but you blurt out in a daze: "Yes, please! I've been thinking about it ever since I saw you." You're panting for dear life as your face is turning a deep shade of red.

Uh oh. Now this is awkward. You weren't...you weren't kidding. For a moment, he freezes in place, trying to recollect himself to no avail. Fucking your brother's future wife in a storage room in the middle of the day feels like poorly written erotic romance. Then again, he can't deny the sudden urge overwhelming him at the mere thought of it. You're squirming underneath him, gliding your legs across his now obvious bulge. His common sense is hanging by a comically thin thread and he can almost hear the instant when it snaps. Thankfully some leftovers of sanity must have remained in the back of his mind and his lustful grunts while pounding you are kept low enough that no one is notified of your horny deeds. Shutting you up was the bigger challenge.

"Is this too tight, miss?" You spin in front of the mirror and the servant readjusts the lace corset adorning your wedding dress. You have to hold back your yawn. Downright shameless and perverted of you to daydream about your monster boyfriend while trying on bridal gowns, but it's not like you agreed to it to begin with. You were kind of hoping to discuss future dating prospects post-intercourse, but someone had been looking for you shortly afterwards and you struggled to regain your composure. Your scary-looking suitor shooed you away with the promise of a reunion.

Before the servant can reach for the next dress, you both jump, startled by angry shouts coming from the hall. You rush outside to witness the older sibling standing before the head of the family. The wrathful threats were coming from the much smaller half-human. "Y-you can't just decide like that!" He screams. "Of course I can. You're welcome to fight me for it." The monster sibling flashes a smug grin. "Can anyone here defeat me?" His question is met with silence. He spots you and gestures you to come towards him. "I'll say it one more time. Find another human for my brother if you have to. This one is mine." He ends his sentence in a low growl and you shiver underneath his heavy arm. Boy, what a time to be alive.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Tell If That Post of Advice Is AI Bullshit

Right, I wasn't going to write more on this, but every time I block an obvious AI-driven blog, five more clutter up the tags. So this is my current (April 2024) advice on how to spot AI posts passing themselves off as useful writing advice.

No Personality - Look up a long-running writing blog, you'll notice most people try to make their posts engaging and coming from a personal perspective. We do this because we're writers and, well, we want to convey a sense of ourselves to our readers. A lot of AI posts are straight-forward - no sense of an actual person writing them, no variation in tone or text.

No Examples - No attempts to show how pieces of advice would work in a story, or cite a work where you could see it in action. An AI post might tell you to describe a person by highlighting two or three features, and that's great, but it's hard to figure out how that works without an example.

Short, Unhelpful Definitions - A lot of what I've seen amount to two or three-sentence listicles. 'When you want to write foreshadowing, include a hint of what you want foreshadowed in an earlier chapter.' Cool beans, could've figured that out myself.

SEO/AI Prompt Language Included - I've seen way too many posts start with "this post is about..." or "now we will discuss..." or "in this post we will..." in every single blog. This language is meant to catch a search engine or is ChatGPT reframing the prompt question. It's not a natural way of writing a post for the average tumblr user.

Oddly Clinical Language - Right, I'm calling out that post that tried to give advice on writing gay characters that called us "homosexuals" the entire time. That's a generative machine trying to stay within certain parameters, not an actual person who knows that's not a word you'd use unless you were trying to be insulting or dunking on your own gay ass in the funniest way possible.

Too Perfect - Most generative AI does not make mistakes (this is how many a student gets caught trying to use it to cheat). You can find ways to make it sound more natural and have it make mistakes, but that takes time and effort, and neither of those are really a factor in these posts. They also tend to have really polished graphics and use the same format every time.

Maximized Tags (That Are Pointless) - Anyone who uses more than 10 one-word tags is a cop. Okay, fine, I'm joking, but there's a minimal amount of tags that are actually useful when promoting a post. More tags are not going to get a post noticed by the algorithm, there is no algorithm. Not everyone has to use their tags to make snarky comments, but if your tags look like a spambot, I'm gonna assume you're a spambot.

No Reblogs From The Rest of Writblr - I'm always finding new Writblr folks who have been around for awhile, but every real person I've seen reblogs posts from other people. We've all got other stuff to do, I'm writing this blog to help others and so are they, the whole point of tumblr is to pass along something you think is great.

While you'll probably see some variation in the future - as people get wise to obviously generated text, they'll try to make it look less generated - but overall, there's still going to be tells to when something is fake.

I don't have any real advice for what to do about this (other than block those blogs, which is what I do). Like most AI bullshit, I suspect most of these blogs are just another grift, attempting to build large follower counts to leverage or sell something to in the future. They may progress past these tattletale features, but I'm still going to block them when I see them. I don't see any value in writing advice compiled from the work of better writers who put the effort in when I can just go find those writers myself.

[ericityyy]

Hello dear, i dont know if your tired of young sheldon requests but if you are im so sorry, i promise that for future requests it will be another fandom. But i was just thinking about georgie with a female reader where she is very protective over missy and makes sure she is not forgotten or less than sheldon, which george finds very cute.

Thank you so much

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 600

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

“Y/N, do you think I can join the baseball team?” Missy asked with an insecure look on her face. She’s been meaning to join the baseball team for some time and was about to talk to her father about this, but then she decided to consult Y/N first.

Y/N stopped putting nail polish on the younger girl’s feet to look at her. Missy, although she may always seem fierce, doesn’t change the fact that she’s still a little girl who sometimes doesn't get that much attention from her parents. The attention most of the time is to scold her.

Don’t get Y/N wrong; Mary and George are great parents, but a lot of the time, they don’t have much trust in Missy and Georgie, and for good reasons too since most of the time, the two of them have been troublemakers. However, that doesn't change the fact that they feel inferior to Sheldon due to how their parents treat him. It has always been Sheldon who gets most of the attention.

“I think if that coach won’t let you in the team, I’ll go there myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Y/N finished polishing Missy’s nails, looking proud as ever seeing the girl’s beaming smile. “You are great with the sport, and if he can’t see that, then that old guy must be having some sight problems.”

Missy teared up at her words. She has always treated Y/N like a sister, even before Georgie and she started dating. Y/N always had Missy’s back, when Mary praised Sheldon or when George made comments about Georgie and Missy being less than Sheldon.

Missy doesn’t have a team. Not until Y/N came.

“You always are so kind to me.” Missy sniffled, causing Y/N to coo at her, bringing the crying girl into her arms. “Thank you for being here with me when I need you. You’re my team.”

Y/N pulled away from the hug to wipe the girl’s tears away, giving her a warm smile. She then stood up and grabbed a baseball bat before throwing the ball softly at Missy’s bed. “How about you and I play some ball before you go to your tryouts?”

The two girls didn’t notice that Georgie was at the doorway, leaning, "Well, aren’t you two sweet?”

Missy and Y/N turned at Georgie, the former standing up from her bed and grabbing the ball before running outside her room shouting, “Come on, Y/N!”

Y/N laughed at the girl’s enthusiasm, then turned to her boyfriend, who was smiling at her, and asked, “What is it?”

Georgie shook his head, standing up straight and walking toward the girl, who had a baseball bat on her shoulder and a hand on her waist. Georgie, at this point, decided that he was deeply in love with her. “Nothing.” He put his hands on her waist. “I just love how you’re always there for my sister; you have always protected her, and I love you for it.”

The boy kissed his girl’s cheek, noticing the slight pink hue appearing on her skin as he smirked playfully. He still has that effect on her.

“Well, what can I say? I’m the big sister she never had. I am what you call a sister by heart.” Y/N proudly, albeit teasingly, put a hand over her chest where her heart is, closing her eyes with a smile on her face. Georgie rolled his eyes, despite the chuckle that left his lips.

"Yes, you are, darling. Yes, you are.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

hi, i’m sorry this is short but i can’t really think of anything else. but i hope you like this though :>

i’m also fine with the georgie requests!! but yeah i do wish i get to write other fandoms though… it’s okay though!! i enjoy writing georgie cooper imagines!!

[leaawrites]

Take away the pain

Percy Jackson x daughter of Apollo!reader

Warnings: Blood, open body, might be disturbing, mentions of organs, broken limbs, nightmare, mentions of death, mentions of wounds, scratch marks, tight throat, female reader,

Category: angst, a bit of fluff, comfort

summary: after reader has a nightmare Percy comforts her.

Masterlist

Blood. It was everywhere. Soaking her clothes, staining the fabric in a crimson color. Her body felt weightless, but she felt alive. Her limbs were broken, they were shattered, thorn by the ends. Her chest was open. She couldn’t feel it, but she saw it. It wasn’t neatly opened by a knife. She wasn’t slashed or stabbed by a human creature. It was a hole. She was opened by something more forceful. Part of her organs were laying beside her. Her skin was opened.

The stone beneath her feet was flat, sanded smooth by millions of feet walking over it. But hers couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t make her mark on it. She couldn’t polish it with her own. She destroyed it.

Her body was weightless and she wasn’t alive.

Her eyes opened, sweat was soaking the shirt she slept in. Her hair was a mess. Nothing felt real anymore. But it was real. This was real.

Her hands clutched her chest, fearing to feel it soaked. But all she felt was skin to skin. A body moved on the other side of the bed. Percy pulled the blanket up to his face, probably fighting with his own nightmare.

The air in camp Half-blood felt clearer at night. No one was awake at this hour, the sky was dark, nature was silent. A tree moved from the wind, somewhere something else moved through the night, making sounds through the leaves that covered the ground.

Y/n gently removed the blanket from over her body, hoping she wouldn’t wake Percy in doing so. Her feet were soundless on the wooden floor. Tears were pricking on the edge of her eye. Her eye lids felt heavy from the water forming beneath them.

Being a kid of Apollo was great in her eyes. She couldn’t complain too much. However, one thing that made her want to change her godly parent, were the wounds she’d seen. The blood that has been on her hands while trying to safe someone else. She saw people in pain that she wanted to pull them out of, often that was Percy. If there was a way of taking their pain and put them onto her she would gladly do it. But she couldn’t.

Slow rivers were trailing down her face as she sat down on the stairs, watching the outside in hope of forgetting what she saw. It may wasn’t real, but it felt realistic enough to scare her. Images came flashing back into her mind. And every time they did, she shut her eyes, imagining his face. The way he would smile at her whenever he saw her. Until it was forgotten.

“What did you dream about?” Of course he knew that was the reason she was up. Of course he felt whenever she wasn’t by his side, even when his eyes were closed and his body was on stand-by.

Y/n moved her fingers over her neck, scratching her fingernails against the soft flesh. It hurt, she noticed. The simple motion made her throat feel tight, it felt like strings were laced around it, pulling themselves together by the second. A deep breath in the pain began to gave up on paining her even more.

“I was dead,” she said, her voice shaking while she spoke. Percy sat down beside her, looking confused at the raw explanation. “My chest was ripped open, there was blood everywhere and my body wasn’t my body anymore. Percy, I- I was nothing more but a dead, rotting body. Nothing more than flesh split open, with broken bones.”

Percy knew about the dreams she had before. They were mostly about other people dying, never her. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest, the other covered his face.

"It was just a dream," he assured the girl. It pained him to see her so broken over what others called her gift. He didn't know what he would do if he saw what she saw.

"But can I be sure of that? What if it was all just a vision of what will be in the future?" There were a hundred thoughts on her mind. Most of them bad ones. If this was all a vision, when would it happen? When would whatever ripped her open rip her open?

Kissing her head, he softly spoke, “Nothing will hurt you. I won’t let it.”

“How can you be so sure about that?” She asked, thinking back on the girl who was in the infirmary a few days ago. She was on a quest, abandoned by her other two acquaintances. He told me he would never leave me, she recalled the girl tell her. Percy wasn’t like this, but what if something acquired him to go away? What if someone was the reason why he wasn’t there?

Percy thought back to his mother. He believed she would always be there, until she wasn’t. But he got her back. He believed, that if you truly loved someone, that nothing could make you turn away from them. “Because I love you.”

It was his only reasonable answer to that question. He would protect her as long as he loved her. There was nothing that could make him turn away when she was hurt.

The pain on her neck left completely when Percy planted a kiss on the back of it. He made the pain disappear. The string detached from another, leaving her to breath freely and purely. The pain from her stomach unraveled when she felt his skin against it. He was what she needed when the pain was too much. With Percy everything felt lighter. Every one of her problems solved around him. He was the light she needed on dark day for her sun to shine.

[n3xii]

What Are People's First Impression of You?

this post is aimed at giving you a insight at what other people's first impression of you are. To choose your pile, allow yourself to be drawn to the perfume that feels most prominent to you.

I am selling personal readings at the moment, I offer customized questions, aura readings and a few other interesting topics! to book a reading, look here

PERFUME ONE

other peoples impression of you: nine of pentacles, three of wands, three of cups

First of all, the nine of pentacles corresponds to venus in Taurus. This is the card of self sufficiency, pampering and rewarding yourself for hardwork. this card also signifies a person who has a keen sense of fashion. This tells me that people's first impression of you is that youre very well dressed, attractive and polished. you give poeple the impression that you care about how you look but not because you want to impress others, but because you enjoy pampering yourself and feeling beautiful. People get the sense that you are very self sufficent, that you work hard for your own success and that you're willing to treat yourself to a new bag, some new wardrobe or some new makeup when you have achieved something. The three of wands expands on this by saying that you give the impression that you are someone who has a vision for their future, you give people the sense that you are on a mission and that you are out to achieve something. the three of wands is someone who has a clear path ahead of them, they're taking action and setting their own goals into action. I feel like people get the impression that you're very "self made" that you havent had to rely on anyones help or support to set your own goals into action. you're someone who is very motivated and willing to take the lead even if there is no one there to validate your actions. The three of cups tells me that people get the impression that you are very social and lively, perhaps you give people the sense that you have lots of friends and that you like to go out alot. The three of cups is a lovely card, and honestly im hearing "a girls girl" which tells me that you give people the impression of sisterhood and safety.

PERFUME TWO

cards: three of swords reversed, two of swords, and ace of cups

the three of swords reversed tells me that peoples first impression of you is that you have healed and recovered from something truamtic and emotionally overwhelming. the three of swords reversed is a card of healing and rebuilding yourself, I feel like people get the sense that you are trying to repair yourself at the moment and that you are recovering from a loss or extreme diaspointment. The two of swords tells me that people may receive this impression that you're at a cross roads, that you're trying to make a decision from a place of trusting yourself and not relying on other people's input, people get the sense that you're trying to internally find clairty about your situation in life at the moment. Additionally, the ace of cups is a beautiful card to get about other people's first impressions of you. This is of a blessing or a miracle, I feel like some people get the impression that you have come into their lifes at the right time and at the perfect moment, that you bring people a renewed sense of hope. I feel like people get the sense that you're someone who brings a fresh, loving and bright energy into peoples lifes.

PERFUME THREE

cards: three of pentacles, five of cups, and page of cups

Ok, the three of pentacles is a card of skills, teamwork and communication. I feel like you're the type of person eveyrone wants to have on their team, a person other people look forward to working with because you bring alot of knowledge to the table, additionally, you bring a dynamic and flexible attitude that makes you very easy to talk to and ask questions to. however the five of cups makes me think that people get the impression that you're very self depreciating, I think other people see how valuable and helpful you are but you only see what makes you imperfect. I dont know why but I just strongly get the impression that people feel that you are way too hard on yourself. The page of cups here tells me that people perhaps also get the impression that you're younger than you are, or that you are extremely open minded. Your bring a "childlike" perspectives to certain things, and I feel like you make people laugh with how you react or interact with others.