#jovi shouts into the void

[cryptidwritings]

you will not start baldurs gate until you finish writing this arc. you will not start baldurs gate until you finish writing this arc. you will not start baldurs gate until you finish writing this arc-

*scrolls on phone, sees Gale*

*clenches fist* YOU WILL NOT START BALDURS GATE UNTIL YOU FINISH WRITING THIS ARC.

[cecilyaxo]

welcome aboard, cecilya arslan, student #10. we are excited to set sail with you !  according to our records, you hail from london, england, prefer preferred she/her, are female, and are here to study fashion design. 

STATS.

full name: cecilya ayaz arslan

nicknames: ce

current age: 23 (born july 15th, 1998)

place of birth: ankara, turkey

previous hometown: london, england

BACKGROUND.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: toxic relationships, domestic abuse, adoption, death.

cecilya was the last of three siblings born to a couple in ankara, turkey. the family seemed pretty run of the mill in terms of her mother being a pretty young woman who looked great in family pictures and her father being a very successful businessman -- it was a family business passed on through the patriarch of the arslan family.

at three years old cecilya was uprooted and the whole family moved over to LONDON, ENGLAND for greener business pastures. cecilya and her mother were very close and she was her fathers little girl, forever treated like a baby in comparison to her brother and sister, azra and demir. 

around her 12th birthday, the arslans had a young boy called max come to live with them. for a long time cecilya didn’t really understand why max was there but he became a part of the family in every way including name. he, like cecilya, was just another outsider who was not allowed any involvement with any of the business affairs of the family or anything of consequence. around the same time, she began to really realise that she was just an accessory; even to her siblings she was just an annoying gnat flying buzzing around.

tw adoption. when cecilya was in her late teen years, she became pregnant with her son jovi. after the birth of the boy, cecilya began to see for the first time what a terrible person her father was. he convinced her to give up her son in order to continue being the perfect daughter that he wanted for himself.

things between her parents seemed to grow worse and worse by the day, the rose tinted glasses were off. she was realising that the superficial surface was all a lie, that things had never been quite as they seemed to her but she had been blinded by her picture perfect world.

tw domestic abuse. the family home had once seemed at least somewhat inviting to her but now her world was blown to pieces, she felt like she was constantly searching in the dark for something that still functioned. she looked to her mother and saw an empty void, she looked to her brother and sister and saw bitterness and rage and when she looked at herself she didn’t see anything at all. 

around 2017 cecilya’s father went on a business trip that he never returned from, the family churned away and pretended like there was no problem. cecilyas mother was very withdrawn the longer that went by and eventually he was assumed to have either left or died overseas.

the family plunged into chaos with both siblings fighting viciously over which of them deserved to lead the family business, tooth and nail for the victory. long story short, plunged into chaos, the arslans set out to destroy one another and little old max ran way into the sunset hoping for a better life away from their fiery wrath of personalities. 

cecilya, after everything that had happened was utterly pissed with her family, the sweet lil girl was gone. she decided to treat them how they had treated her. unfortunately, it was mainly the world that got to pay the price.

OTHER.

very sensitive and prone to complete emotional meltdowns, screaming, shouting.... a sharpay events stick to the status quo type meltdown..... preferably with a lunch tray too

gets very bad ideas in her head and decides this is the thing she absolutely must do 

can be very materialistic / has in the past done things just for appearances but is a little past it now

you can become worst enemies with her without even knowing it

likes shoes more than anything else in life 

[prolificpoisons]

Shout Out to My Alliance RP Buddies!

So, being frank, a majority of Jovi’s RP has been coming from Alliance side these days! After the IC post I made this morning, for those that didn’t read it, Jovi will be starting to show face on Ally side -very- soon! I finally have an IC/OOC use for my void elves! Woo!

That being said, a couple things I should note. More than likely, I will still be very active horde side! I highly doubt I will be maining alliance side, but I will certainly be spending some time there!

Also, I am -INSANELY- unversed in ally side RP, that being I am not too knowledgeable on the RP hub areas, or the places one might generally locate some good RP!

If anyone would like to offer me some pointers in the right direction, some good guilds to think on, or anything Alliance RP related, feel free to shoot me a message, and all things will be considered!

Thanks, fam! See you on the other side! ♥

[shadowfaximpala]

Halo on Fire

MASTERLIST

Summary: The boys had kept you safe for long enough, but anything with an essence for the unusual eventually breaks loose, but this time the break is permanent. A blood spell gone awry awakens dormant powers, as you struggle to come to terms with the flood gates bursting you find yourself attached to a certain demon who oozes charisma and sass…

Tags: Reader Insert, Female Reader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Crowley. Castiel, Multi-Chapter fic

Pairing: Reader!Nephilim x Crowley

Warnings: Language

Notes: I’ve been busting my arse off at work but I’m finally catching up on my writing. I’m glad I managed to finish this chapter, I’m sorry if it seems like filler at the moment but it’s heating up in the next few chapters I promise! Stay tuned. 

Chapter Three

Halo on fire, The midnight knows it well.

Fast is desire, creates another hell.

The impala sped off down the long deserted road; The sun hung low in the sky signalling the dawning of a new day, greeting the early risers with a warm glow resonating off the earth below.

Bon Jovi played swiftly through the speakers, not too loud as to distract from conversation but just enough that you could hear the crisp riffs and clean singing. You tapped your foot to the tune, Dean was singing off key in the front.

“Oh man I’m starving. We should grab some groceries while we’re out. Y/N you're in charge of food this week, I’d rather die than eat kale and whatever the hell else Sammy stuffed in the refrigerator.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I'm with you on that one,” you agreed. “Don't worry Sam I’ll make sure your disgusting health needs are met.”

“Y/N, tinned beans and chocolate aren't healthy, just so you know.” There was a playful tone to Sam’s voice.

“Actually my human friend, Beans are full of fibre!” You retorted with added enthusiasm. “And dark chocolate is healthy for the mind!” You could taste the delicious delicacy on your tongue, it made you salivate just thinking about it.

“Not if you eat a whole king size bar,” the lanky Winchester snorted.

“Oh cram it Colossus. It's good for your menstral cramps,” you jested. You could hear Dean howl with laughter, even Castiel had a wry smile on his face, looking like he understood that reference.

The diner was laid out in waiting, just screaming for the whole kitchen to be decimated by three hungry creatures and a fully fledged angel.

“Oh my god,” you groaned and you inhaled the scent of maple syrup and sugary pancake goodness. You made a quick start for the counter, the boys following you with less exuberance in their step but still a sense of urgency to cram as much down their throats as possible.

You all ordered the pancake special, Dean ordered a side of cherry pie to accompany his gluttonous portion.

Before the order arrived Sam had already begin trifling through the local newspaper, Castiel throwing around awkward glances at everyone eating. You knew he missed the rich taste of food...

“Sucks to be you,” you delicately patted castiel on the shoulder without thinking, suddenly in a wave of cascading unpleasantness burst the seams, the barrier was broken again, you couldn't let go as the pain, hurt, anger, confusion, aggression and unwavering hope hurtled through your brain, more intense than the last time. You could hear shouts in the background, almost as if the voices were in another room entirely and the world grew black with tints of blinding blue resonating in flashes every few seconds.

You passed out, stumbling not so gracefully off your chair and onto the diner floor, when you came to you were greeted with three concerned faces, without thinking Dean reached down to help you up.

The worst crash of all beat relentlessly against you, if they kept this up there was no doubt that you were going to break.

Fear, guilt, grief, sadness beyond anything that was humanly possible. Dean was certainly edges and knives inside, a time bomb waiting to explode at any moment. A white hot heat blossomed from your forehead, spreading across your body like a roaring fire until all remnants of those dark feelings dissipated into a hidden void.

You blinked your eyes open, unaware of what on earth just happened, slowly sitting you you took in your surroundings. You were still at the diner, judging by the three men crowding around you, you had been out for a few minutes.

“If any of you touch me again I'm going to chop off your fucking fingers.” You groaned, picking yourself up off the floor.

“I've drained some of your excess power for now, you didn’t put up a fight this time since you were passed out,” Castiel spoke in a hushed tone. “You’ll still feel people's emotions, but just not as intensely as before. For a few days at the very least.” You breathed a sigh of relief. You didn’t want to experience that shit-show any time soon.

Feeling even more drained than before you ordered an additional plate of pancakes as your delicious food was thrust in front of you. Wasting no time you scoffed them down with expert speed, explicit noises leaving your mouth from the purely divine taste, earning bemused smiles from the brothers beside you. It suddenly occurred to you following your earlier thought process, Castiel couldn't eat, what if one of your seals had that awful taint hidden beneath? Could you possibly live without tasting pancakes again? You shuddered at the thought, deciding to slow down and delicately taste the food, appreciating every morsel of flavour that entered your senses.

Morning dwindled on into afternoon, you had collected all sorts of junk food and organic produce to take back to the bunker, it sat wrapped in brown bags in the boot along with a heavy arsenal of weaponry and a devil’s trap in the boot of the Impala.

The engine revved into the bunker garage, Dean turned the key and all of you hopped out, rushing to your door to open it for you. You glared at him for showing any display of kindness, you felt weak at that moment. Having shared all their emotional roller coasters even for a brief moment you wanted to lie down in your darkened room and erase the cognitive mess and destruction floating around your mind.

“Guys I’m totally beat, I’m going to hit the hay for a while and snooze it off,” Castiel looked at you as though you were talking in an old ancient language he had never heard before. “I’m going to bed,” you clarified.

“Okay, well I’m assuming you all have enough food provisions to sustain you for long enough, in the meantime I’m going to do a little more research on what’s causing the influx of power, get as much rest as you can.” You nodded your head as he flew away in haste, leaving you alone with Sam and Dean.

“Are all angels that formal?” You groaned. Dean smiled, Sam chuckled lightly.

“Be thankful he’s not as big of a dick as some of them.” Dean offered.

“I’ve only met a handful of my wonderful uncles and aunts, all of which tried to assassinate me.” You beamed at the Winchesters. “Right bed time. If I have any night terrors, stay the hell away from me or wear some heavy duty gloves or something to shake me, I don’t wanna be inside either of those fucked up pretty heads for as long as I can manage.” You trotted off into the bunker and down the halls to your room, growing weary with each and every step until you finally collided with your bed, your head crashed against the pillow as sleep overtook you.

Endless black a hue of red, it felt like you had been lost in this void before but something was different, it didn’t seem as entirely hopeless and bleak as before. Awash with a new sense of longing you ventured towards the crimson light that flickered helplessly, your fingers reached out to touch the glowing ember, your fingers trembled as your reach grew closer. Despite the warmth of colour it felt cold to the touch, like a marble on a winter night, as soon as your fingers glazed over the cool beam of energy you could feel a sense of warmth radiate from the core, seconds passed the darkness surrounding you growing lighter with each tick of time.

Like a stone thrown into water, ripples extending out wards, tendrils of desire crept in, fierce and dark and oh so sinful, it spread through you like liquid fire. You awoke panting and laden in sweat, you bolted upright to be met with darkness. You hastily reach for the lamp on your nightstand, terrified you were still trapped in the hell driven nightmare.

You were startled as a dark figure sat with one leg crossed over the other, a glass of whiskey in his hand, a bored expression fixed to his face as he inspected the glass.

“Fucking hell Crowley, you could have knocked, rang or anything, why are you in my bedroom watching me sleep?!” You spat in a low tone.

“Don’t flatter yourself I’ve been here a grand total of twelve seconds, it seems you called…” Something akin to a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“No I didn’t…” You trailed off, suddenly realisation hit, your face flushed with embarrassment. You had called out Crowley’s name in your sleep. You read his demeanour deciding to play coy despite your obvious flushed cheeks and sheepish smile.

“Now who’s flattering himself?” His eyebrow arched at your response, sipping whiskey from the glass whilst eyeing you the whole time. Tension nestled over the room as you shared a glace.

“I’m cashing in on that favour,” he finally spoke.

“Should I be worried?” You laughed nervously.

“Depends…” His voice layered in silk and amusement. “I’ve located the alpha witch, I’ll send it to you in the morning so the boys won’t get too suspicious. When you and the three stooges get the bitch, I need something from her kitchen cupboards, an ingredient.”

“Right, frogs legs or silver nightshade?” You quipped.

“More like the horn of a Capricorn. This is a no questions asked type favour so I’d appreciate your discretion and just get the damn thing.” He went from flirtatious to business in a heartbeat. Silence fell between you both, so many questions swimming around in your head, when someone tells you not to ask questions that only makes it harder to not actually ask a question...

“Fine,” you finally managed. “It’s a deal,” you gave him a halfhearted smile as you rose from the sheets you had tangled yourself in. The remnants of emotion still swimming around in your head from your dream.

“Well, kitten. You know how I usually go about my business.” He put the glass down on the table beside him before standing up and slowly motioning over to you, a predatory air about him became apparent as he stood incredibly close to you.

You could feel the want pouring off him. As you stared into his hazel eyes sense crashed against the shoreline of your brain. If he touched you there was no telling what sweet hell would become of your mind, let alone if he kissed you. Movement in your peripheral vision made you flinch and inch backward.

“Best not to shake my hand…” You tried to dodge around the bullet, the fact that he was obviously going to kiss you an unspoken fact, “I can’t control my powers.”

Disappointment rained down on him, his shoulders gave a noticeable slump. “Okay darling, rain check?” He gave you a weary smile before disappearing. Leaving you alone in your room once again, your heart skipping beats entirely.

Tags: @roxy-davenport @gettinjoyful @laneygthememequeen @mkate-writes-things

[revwinchester]

It’s My Life

Summary: Canon!Verse fic about what life was like for Sam during the time between when he was admitted to Stanford and when he left for school.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer

Word Count: 2340 (including lyrics)

Warnings: Cursing, Angst

A/N: This was inspired by the Bon Jovi song “It’s My Life” and written for @d-s-winchester’s 4K celebration/Bon Jovi Challenge.  I had been thinking about a fic focusing on this time in Sam’s life and then this challenge came up and I felt like the song just framed it perfectly.

It’s My Life - 

“Sammy!”

Sam winced at the nickname but it was Dad, there wasn’t much he could do about it besides respond.  He turned to face his father where he stood in the motel doorway, his phone in hand.  “Yeah Dad?”

“Bobby wants to talk to you,” his dad replied.

Sam hopped up off the bed he had been sitting on, placing his book carefully on the nightstand.  It was an old book, somewhat fragile, and one he had borrowed from Pastor Jim.  He wanted to return it to him in the same condition in which it had been loaned.

Sam crossed the room, grabbing a key from the table as he passed and took his dad’s phone before stepping outside into the cool evening air.

“Don’t wander far, son,” his dad commanded.

Sam nodded as he brought the phone to his ear, the door shutting behind him.  “Hey Bobby, what’s up?” Sam asked.  

“There’s an envelope came in the mail for you, Sam,” Bobby told him and Sam held his breath.  

The older man’s voice was rough and Sam couldn’t detect any kind of emotion from the man.  For all Sam knew, Bobby had already told his dad this news and Sam would be in for a shouting match once he went back into the motel room.

“It’s a pretty big one, thick,” Bobby was saying and Sam started to let himself get excited; those were good adjectives to hear.  “It’s from Stanford University.  Why would Stanford University be sending you mail at my place?” He asked Sam, but the boy could tell that Bobby already knew that answer.

“Open it for me, Bobby,” Sam replied quickly, not wanting his dad or brother to come out side looking for him before he knew for sure, “please.”

Sam waited, listening to the muffled sounds of Bobby shifting the phone so he could use both hands to open the envelope.  He heard paper tear and then the shuffle of pages as Bobby worked his way through the envelope, all while Sam tried to restrain himself from rushing the man.  Finally Bobby’s voice sounded through the phone again.

“Dear Samuel,” Bobby read.  “Congratulations!  It is with great pleasure that I offer you admission to the Stanford University Class of 2006…”

Bobby was still reading but Sam didn’t hear much of it after that.  He had done it; he’d gotten into college.  He’d gotten into an Ivy League college.  He could get out of the hunting life and start fresh, lead a safe, normal life as a lawyer - still helping people but not putting his ass on the line to do it.  Maybe he’d even meet a girl, get married, have kids, and assure them there are no monsters in their closet rather than gifting them with a handgun for under their pillow.  

“You still with me Sam?” Bobby asked, pulling the boy from his thoughts.

“What, uh, yeah.  Yeah, I‘m still here, Bobby,” Sam replied, reality flooding back in.  He had applied to Stanford on a whim.  Even after getting accepted, he could never afford to attend the school.  

As if he was reading Sam’s mind, Bobby shuffled through the pages again.  “One of these papers says they’re offering you a full academic scholarship,” he told Sam, his voice still gruff and straightforward.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered and Bobby let out a soft chuckle.  It was really going to happen, or it could happen if that was really what Sam wanted.  “Did… did you tell my dad?” he asked Bobby, his voice quiet.  It wasn’t a conversation that Sam was looking forward to having.  His dad had already told Sam more than once that he should give up on his dream of college and embrace the life of a hunter.  Bobby, on the other hand, had been the one to play catch with Sam, the one who had taught him how to cook a few things, the one who had quizzed him on history and math instead of on supernatural lore.  That was why he had used Bobby’s address to apply to Stanford.  Well, that and the fact that Bobby didn’t move from one cheap motel to the next.

“I didn’t,” Bobby responded solemnly.  “That’s your story to tell, Sam.”

Sam nodded wordlessly, knowing that Bobby couldn’t see him.

“And it’s a story I’d tell sooner rather than later.  Secrets don’t do any good in any kind of life but especially in our line of work.”  

Sam nodded again, this time forcing out a “Yeah, Bobby.  And thanks.”  He started walking back toward the motel room saying his goodbyes to the older hunter.  Just as he was about to hang up and enter the room again, Bobby stopped him.

“And Sam?”

“Yeah, Bobby?”

“I’m proud of you, boy.”

Bobby didn’t wait for a response, hanging up as soon as the words had left his mouth.  

This ain't a song for the broken-hearted No silent prayer for the faith-departed I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd You're gonna hear my voice When I shout it out loud

Sam was riding in his usual seat in the Impala.  His dad was driving and Dean was riding shotgun while Sam was sprawled out in the back seat, his nose buried in the required summer reading book that would be discussed during Stanford’s freshman orientation.  

Bobby had read through the entire packet that Stanford had sent Sam and gifted the youngest Winchester the book the last time John and the boys were in South Dakota.  Sam had read through the papers at least three times on the first night of that visit, the admission letter even more often.  He waited until everyone was asleep on the second night and then filled out the paperwork that needed to get sent back to the university.  He still hadn’t told his dad or brother about his plan to attend college; he had wanted to live in the happiness and excitement of the moment for as long as possible and he knew Dean and his dad were going to be pissed.

Now, though… Now that Sam’s commitment letter and financial aid and scholarship forms were in the hands of the United States Postal Service and on their way to California, he knew he needed to share the news.  Sam took a deep breath a, steeling himself, before looking up from his book.  He cleared his throat and forced his body to relax.

“I’m going to college.  This fall.”  

The car was quiet apart from Sam’s voice and the hum of the engine.  Dean’s body had stiffened at Sam’s words and the youngest Winchester knew his brother wanted to say something but Dean was looking to their father for example, following his lead.  John Winchester gave no indication that he had even heard his younger son’s words and, as the silence grew longer and more uncomfortable, Sam filled it with a babbling explanation.

“So, uh, yeah.  I applied last fall.  I had saved up some money and took the SAT when we were at Bobby’s for a month in September,” Sam said, filling the void.  “I got a 1583, almost a perfect score, and so I looked at a couple of applications but I could really only afford one application fee so I picked one of the schools and sent in my application.”

Sam knew he was rambling but his dad still wasn’t responding and he couldn’t make his mouth stop.

“So I got in.  To… to Stanford.  It’s a really good school, just as good as Ivy League.  They, um, they’re in California.  So, I’m going to move out there in August.  I’m studying pre-law; I want to be a lawyer.  I want to help people, still but not... not like this.  So I’m going to Stanford this fall.”

Sam finally forced himself to stop talking and the silence in the car was deafening.  Finally, John spoke.

“No, you’re not.”

Sam watched as his dad reached over and turned on the radio, flipping through stations until he found something that wasn’t mostly static.  Sam wrinkled his nose but bit his tongue as the country music filled the Impala.

The conversation was over before it had even really began but this wasn’t the first time that Sam and his dad hadn’t seen eye to eye and the boy knew that a shouting match was still to come.  John would raise his voice and tell him he couldn’t afford school and Sam would yell back at his dad, telling him about the scholarship his grades and SAT scores had earned.  Sam knew his dad would eventually shout something about family being the most important thing, how he was doing all of this for them.  The yelling would continue between them until one of them stormed out of the room.

This is for the ones who stood their ground It's for Tommy and Gina who never backed down Tomorrow's getting harder, make no mistake Luck ain't enough You've got to make your own breaks

The fight had happened, just as Sam had expected.  Sam had been the one to leave, which hadn’t particularly been a surprise.  It was a rainy night with thunder booming overhead so all three of the men were trapped inside of their motel room.  Sam was finishing up the summer reading assignment and Sam had answered carelessly when Dean had asked him what he was working on.  

“I thought this matter was settled,” John had said.

“It is, sir,” Sam replied, his voice as cold as he dared to make it, “I’m going to Stanford in the fall.”

That was when the shouting had begun.

In the end, his dad had brought up his mother’s death, like he so often did when he fought with his younger son, and Sam had seen red.  He was tired of a woman of whom he had no real memory haunting his every step, like it was somehow his fault that his mom had died that night.  “You really think this is the life she would have wanted for us?” Sam had seethed before he wrenched the door open and walked out into the night, taking refuge from the storm in the Impala.

It was clear that his dad once again had decided that they were done with this “fantasy,” as he had called it so Sam was extra quiet and careful about his college preparations.  He knew he would need to purchase most of his dorm supplies once he arrived in California so he saved what little he could, making lists and budgets, researching where he could shop once he moved, and hustling a couple of extra games of darts or pool to pad his pockets when he didn’t think Dean was paying attention.  

About a month into this new pattern, Dean pulled Sam aside while their dad was on a case.

“What are you doing, Sam?” his brother asked.

Sam didn’t want another fight so he decided to play dumb, telling Dean that he didn’t know what his brother was talking about.

“Cut the shit, Sammy, I’m not blind,” Dean snapped but then his voice grew quiet.  “You’re still planning on leaving.”  He was fighting to keep the sadness out of his voice but Sam knew his brother better than anyone and he could hear it.  “Just, don’t, ok?  Don’t leave.”  The ‘me’ was left unspoken but Sam heard it all the same.

Sam already knew that leaving his brother behind was going to be the hardest part of this whole endeavor.  Dean had practically raised Sam from the time he was an infant and part of him had hoped that Dean might take this opportunity to get out, too; maybe settle down with a nice girl and live a safe life.  He had known that hope was a long shot but he still couldn’t stop it from invading from time to time.  

But this, this unspoken plea… It was more than Sam had bargained for and he almost agreed, almost gave it all up for his brother.  He was about to do it - agree to stay - when their dad stomped through the door.  It must have been a rough hunt because John was drunk; usually that meant more people had died before their dad could catch the monster.  The sight alone was enough to remind Sam of everything he hated about the hunting life and as his father crashed face first onto one of the motel beds, Sam’s resolve only strengthened. 

You better stand tall when they're calling you out Don't bend, don't break, baby, don't back down

“If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back.”

His dad’s words stung but Sam couldn’t give up now.  His dream was in reach; a normal life was so close he could practically taste it.  Sam looked his dad in the eye, resenting the man for the life he had been raised to lead and for every potential home and friend that had been taken away from him, but mostly for forcing him to make this choice between his future and his family.

Sam’s eyes slid over his dad’s shoulder to where Dean was standing.  He tried to hold his brother’s gaze, to communicate a silent good bye, but Dean’s eyes fell to the ground.

Sam pursed his lips and nodded curtly.  ‘So, that’s how it’s going to be, then,’ Sam thought to himself.  He squared his shoulders and fished his cell phone out of his pocket before tossing it onto the table in the motel room’s kitchenette.  Sam’s eyes flicked towards Dean one more time before meeting his dad’s glare.

“Thanks for all your support,” Sam deadpanned.

With those words, Sam turned on his heel and walked through the door.

It's my life And it's now or never I ain't gonna live forever I just want to live while I'm alive It's my life My heart is like an open highway Like Frankie said I did it my way I just want to live while I'm alive It's my life

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[cryptidwritings]

picked up another traveling book (tm), flipped to a random page and read the first line:

"If I were a lazy man, this would be paradise. Unfortunately, I'm not, and this is getting very boring."

[cryptidwritings]

day #2308239409 of tumblr messing with the linking system.

Turns out that, even on desktop, you must now go to your actual blog site to copy the [username].tumblr.com link for posts. The convenience of copying from the username on top of the post you wish to link back to is no more, as it now just goes to your blog's landing page.

why must you do this to us, tumblr?

[cryptidwritings]

Now that the MWOM event is done, I'm taking a short break to focus on another hobby and possibly get ahead on the new long fic I have planned.

If you all want to see poorly painted mini canvasses, let me know LOL otherwise I'll still be active, just not posting any writing until next week :)