#laundry must be horrific

[justatypicalwizard]

A scrap from your book

Bakugo x reader, aged up, college! au, quirks don't matter, no warnings, just heartwarming

Roommate Bakugo who is forced to share a room with you for about three months due to unexpected construction works in the college apartment he occupied. The whole Bakusquad was moved to random rooms. To make it worse they were all shared ones. You agreed to take in a male occupant.

Roommate Bakugo who tries to spend as much time outside of the cramped college room as possible. He feels like he's kinda invading your privacy as well as just finding the whole situation uneasy.

Roommate Bakugo who has to complete a bunch of assignments but the library is packed in the late afternoon hours, the air thick with gossip, stress, sweat and annoyance. Bakugo finally wandered off to the dorm room to find some peace for his work.

Roommate Bakugo who spotts you always turn off your lamp and tune down the brightness on your laptop when he tells you he's going to sleep.

"You don't have to do that." He grunts, already wrapped up in heavy covers.

"I don't mind, you do the same." Because he does.

Roommate Bakugo who walks on you watching a film he loves. At first he just circles the small room mindlessly, more interested in the unwrapping dialogue between his two favourite characters than the laundry he's picking up.

"You wanna watch?" You ask, pausing the movie.

"No. I was going to do my laundry."

"I can wait, I can buy some snacks in the meantime, I was looking for an excuse to do it anyway."

So the two of you ended up finishing the film together, sitting on your bed.

Roommate Bakugo who talks to you more, geting used to the situation faster than he thought he would. You both sit by your desks working on the boring college stuff. He spotted you were trying hard, not slacking around and keeping most of your deadlines. Even if he didn't want to admitt it, he was impressed. Not that he didn't do the same, it's just rare to find a person who actually cares.

Roommate Bakugo who didn't know how to phrase a sentence. He was working on a piece of paper for the last two hours after an intense day of workout and his brain refused to cooperate anymore.

"Can I ask you for a favour?" Your face appeared from behind your laptop screen.

"Depends on what is it."

"I finished a short essay and I wanted to ask if you could read it and tell me if it makes sense."

Might as well take a break to refresh his mind. Bakugo read through the text and came to the conclusion that you were a good writer. A very good writer in fact.

"How would you say that in other words?" He asked after you were happy with your work, your laptop tossed aside as you lay on your bed scrolling through your phone.

You skipped to him, read through the sentence and gave him a paraphrase, one that he wouldn't think of himself.

"Thanks."

Roommate Bakugo who was eying you book collection for some time. You had a bunch. When he asked the two of you started talking and in went on and on and on. Finally, you stood up on your bed, the sheets dipping in where you stretched out to reach the highest shelve. Picking out a book you handed it to him.

"My favourite."

So he started to read it.

Roommate Bakugo who got a text from you that you wouldn't be back in the dorms for the night. After a shower he laid down in his bed, shirtless, with your book in hand. It was definitely worth it and he was way past the half already. Suddednly the doors opened only to reveal you, eying him up and down.

"The fuck you doing here?" Suddenly Bakugo felt a tad bit embarassed about his bare chest and lose sweatpants.

"My friend cancelled, sorry, you have someone over?" A small sly grin appeared on yoru lips.

"Jeez no, I'm just half naked."

"I don't mind." You shrugged, throwing your bag on the bed.

And what was that supposed to mean?

Nevermind. Bakugo wanted to get back to the story when he spotted something horrific. His hand gripped a nice chunk of the page, torn out of the book. He must have done it when you startled him with the grand entrance. It was readable as he only torn the cream white but it still looked nasty.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He didn't even look at you, opting on eying the damage, embarassement creaping up his cheeks for destroying someone's else belonging. One of yoru favourite belongings.

You came over, looked at the book and started to laugh.

"What's so fucking funny?" From embarassed Bakugo quickly merged into defensive.

"You look as if you killed my grandma. It's just a book." You saw that it didn't make him feel better, in fact the frown in his brows deepened. "I like my books being used. Lets treat it as a memory of you reading it. Give me the torn piece, please." Your hand reached out and he put the scrap into your open palm.

You skribbled something down on it using a pen fished out of your drawer. When you gave it back to him, the paper read 'Don't stress so much, dummy.'

"You can keep it." A smile brightened your face as you turned around to do other things.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that he kept that scrap in the back of his phonecase at all times.

Roommate Bakugo who would never admitt to anyone that it took you roughly two months to steal his rock-like heart away.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Colored Seams (Astarion x GN! Reader)

Synopsis: Cazador is dead and the Spawn were released to the Underdark. You and Astarion could not be happier in the days that follow in spite of the looming Netherbrain Threat. You decide to do both of your laundry when a tragedy occurs- you accidentally destroyed his blanket.

CW: Dead Dove, Panic attack symptoms, fluffy, suggestive content, no specific pronouns mentioned or character traits

Author Note: Nobody’s Fool and Floozy are going to be updated tomorrow :)

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated- thank you so much for reading 💜 pic is mine

Cazador is dead- well he’s been dead for a solid week now, but, with the nature of this adventure, that even feels like months ago.

Astarion sent the spawn to the Underdark, he remarked his grave, and his spirit seems lighter. He has a lot more pep in his step, jokes more easily, and he has been very, very into PDA. Lae’zel has even gone out of her way to remark on how affectionate he has been with you in public.

Astarion’s confidence in himself is still a work in progress, but it makes your heart sing to know that he is slowly beginning to heal and you promised, in spite of the lack of sun your future holds, that you will be by his side to support him every step of the way.

He’s been exceptionally physically affectionate- you are still sore from the last several days of him ‘indulging’ in his newfound freedom. The sheets are a mess, your clothes are a mess, his clothes are a mess, and you are not about to let either one of you go out in obviously sex stained clothing.

You had decided to wash yours and Astarion’s things while he begrudgingly helped Gale retrieve old tomes from Sorcerer Sundries- Rolan’s recent instatement has allowed for Gale to read just about every tomb in the massive magic shop.

Ever since everyone found out Astarion could use spider climb, they have been asking him for his help in various tasks- he charges everyone (minus you, of course).

Gale had actually dragged Astarion along because he is technically looking for a book on your behalf for Astarion. He doesn’t know, but you and Gale have already begun the search for a Ring of Sunwalking.

Astarion loves the sun so much and you want to be able to give it to him- you all do. You could not be more proud of him and you find you enjoy acts of services and gift giving when it comes to him. He has had so little for so long and no one was taking care of him or making him feel special. You are very thankful that you get to be the one who provides him with these experiences.

For now, you don’t have a gift so you are going to surprise him with clean clothes!

He usually does the laundry because you hate doing it (something he learned and just kinda picked up on). You told him he didn’t need to and you feel bad for being a nuisance, but he would just roll his eyes, kiss you, and saunter off in the direction of the wash tub or wait until you are asleep so you can’t fret about it.

Astarion is actually quite adorable in his laundry routine- he even has a bag specifically for laundry soaps and scents. The man is right- he really did miss his calling as a perfumer.

You started with both your clothes. You used herbs for scent, soap for cleanliness, and Halsin helped to dry them with Wind. You then moved onto your bed sheets.

However, you realize you made a horrific mistake after it’s far, far too late.

Astarion’s comfort blanket, his first and only item while under Cazador, was torn apart. It had gotten twisted inside the sheets and it already hadn’t been strong enough to begin with. You didn’t even know you threw it in with the rest! You would never do that on purpose! You know it has to be washed gently and carefully.

“Tav?”

You are crying, entirely unaware of the fact that Halsin is widely concerned as you stare in horror at the murder scene before you.

“I destroyed his blanket!” Your voice is strained and your eyes must look as crazy as you feel because Halsin is looking very concerned for you.

“I am sure he will under-“

You are hyperventilating- there is no rhyme or reason and it doesn’t seem to matter what Halsin says- your mind is spiraling a mile a minute into oblivion.

He is going to dump you- Gods he may even leave and that thought terrifies you more than anything else.

You feel your lungs collapse in your chest and you can’t breathe.

You just wanted to do something nice for him.

You rush back to your bed after a brief pit stop at your shared room (you were forced, Gale was tired of waking up to you and Astarion being ‘adults’)- and you have pulled out every piece of yarn you can find. The majority of the blanket is intact, but there are chunks that have been unraveled.

The yarn is a faded gray color and all you have is your favorite color of yarn and a passionate hatred for mending things. It’s thankfully the same consistency and thickness, but Withers only knows how much time and patience you have.

Back to the room you go.

It takes you a few moments to study the pattern, but you immediately begin your work. Your fingers are pricked and sore, unsteady and clumsy. You have never been the best sewer, knitter, etc. so you can only hope that it can make up for even the smallest bit of destruction.

You finish right as you hear his voice ring through the main room- he is heckling Gale about something and you feel like you may very well vomit.

You had moved your things to the corner, just in case, but you still aren’t prepared to face him. Your tears begin to fall again.

You destroyed his blanket.

You are shaking and there is a lump forming in your throat as you try to stop your tears, ready to face probably one of the worst moments on this journey thus far.

He walks into your shared room- all smiles, but his mood quickly changes when he notices all of your things are packed away and your cheeks are tear stained. He looks sick with worry and now you feel even worse.

“My love?” Astarion’s frantic voice makes your stomach turn, “my love- what did I do wrong? What is it? How can I fix this?”

He is already at your side- Astarion’s eyes are filled with unshed tears and he is going to reach for you, but you just hold out the blanket between you.

The silence in the room is deafening and when he takes it- you clasp your shaking hands together and stare at your feet.

Astarion certainly must hate you- there is no way he can forgive you for this.

“I-I was just trying to do our laundry,” you whisper, “and I didn’t realize your blanket was rolled up inside our sheets and it… it fell apart.

“I tried to fix it the best I could, but I- I already know this is unforgivable and I am so unbelievably sorry, Astarion, and I know we are definitely over after this, but please don’t leave. I don’t want you to get hurt or turned into a mindflayer and if it’s that painful, I will just leave and-“

You and your rambling mouth are engulfed in a massive hug that stuns you to your core and you feel cool lips press a gentle kiss to your temple.

You fall apart- all the fear and anxiety from the last few hours has finally hit you. You are struggling to contain yourself and self-regulation isn’t happening. Every abandonment wound you have ever had has been ripped open and left to bleed everywhere inside the room.

“I’m so sorry,” you are still a mess, “I am so so sorry, Astarion.”

“My Dear,” he pulls back, tilting your chin so you are looking at him, “it is okay. I forgive you.”

You blink a few times with your lower lip still trembling. Astarion’s smile is sad as he wipes away your tears and kisses the space around the corners of your mouth before placing one on the tip of your nose. He smiles brightly when your lips finally curve upward a bit.

“At the beginning of this journey, I think I would have been exceptionally mad,” he admits, “but, now? Well, my Love,” he smiles at the blanket in his hand, “I was considering getting rid of it- it’s a reminder of my past in a lot of ways I don’t wish to remember.

“It’s perfect now- it feels like it belongs to me again and not the person Cazador bullied me into being,” his eyes glow with happiness, “I also know you despise this kind of activity and doing laundry- I greatly appreciate you doing both for me this evening, my Dear.”

Your smile cracks open your face and your tears are now filled with relief. You hug him tightly and he holds you back- equally as relieved that it wasn’t a big deal.

And it’s not- Astarion genuinely isn’t all that upset about it. Sure it’s not ideal, but you know what no one has ever done for him before? Fix something of his they broke- or at the very least attempted to. He finds himself grinning like a moron at your clumsy stitching and he adores that your favorite color is brightening up the blanket much like you have brightened up his entire world.

Nor has anyone done his laundry! You did a really good job too.

“You are very good at laundry, my dear,” he muses, “maybe I need to have you teach me some time.”

He can hear you roll your eyes as you put away your items again. Astarion began making the bed- you in all of your panic had completely forgotten to do.

“Oh please- we both know it’s a miracle I didn’t turn everything pink again by accident!”

You had made the mistake of grabbing a red bottle thinking it was laundry soap (at the beginning of the journey, mind you) and your stuff looked ridiculous because the bottle had actually been dyed. Your hands looked like you had just come back from brutalizing someone. Astarion had been the one to help you reverse the horrid mistake.

“That is a positive,” he laughs, coming up behind you and admiring the way you smile in the mirror while he wraps his arms around you, “I am glad I won’t be in some blotchy reddish, pink attire.”

“We would be matching ALL THE TIME though.”

“That, my Love, did not make you dying my laundry pink anymore appealing.”

You throw your head back with laughter- your makeup has created lines down your neck with your tears and you still haven’t had a chance to bathe nor has Astarion.

Astarion plays with the hem of your pants and kisses along your neck.

“You know, practice does make perfect,” he murmurs against your thrumming pulse, “and cleaning another would certainly be good laundry practice.”

You hum in agreement, “that is a good point and I could certainly use the practice.”

“I would be more than happy to demonstrate- I have been told I am an excellent teacher.”

Your grin is wide and your eyes are blown wide with lust- it makes him incredibly satisfied to see you react to him in the mirror and knowing that only he can make you feel this way.

You grab his hand, pulling him towards the washroom.

“We best get started then. I am an eager pupil, after all.”

Astarion’s grin threatens to split open his face and he allows you to pull him along- throwing the blanket onto the bed so that you can mend yourselves together in a different kind of way.

[ezziefae]

Thoughts on Chap 2 of The Prisoner's Throne.

"Oak takes the stairs, careful now. He has the surreal feeling of being in a video game. He played enough of them, sitting on Vivi’s couch. Creeping through pixelated rooms that had more of the appearance of Madoc’s stronghold where he grew up than anywhere they went in the mortal world. Leaning on Heather’s shoulder, controller in his hands. Killing people. Hiding the bodies."

Okay, starting off strong already. I squealed when I read the part where Oak has his head leaning on Heather's shoulder. The "Killing people. Hiding the bodies" part was an obvious reference to Oak's blood thirst.

This is a stupid, ugly, violent game, Vivi said. Life isn’t like that. And Jude, who was visiting, raised her eyebrows and said nothing.

JUDEEEEEE

a few selkies hang around at the edges, no doubt gathering news of a rising power to take back to the Undersea.

These selkies are snitches. Holly did confirm that we were gonna see many familar faces from TFOTA, so I am definitely expecting to see Nicasia or Orlagh.

But after he and Vivi and Heather had to carry bags of laundry to the basement of their apartment building and feed quarters into a machine, along with detergent and fabric softener, he realized that someone must have been performing a related service for him in Faerie.

AWEEEE! how humble Oak has become. I'm so happy we're not only getting more Jude and Cardan but also Vivi and Heather.

He feels a bit foolish as he wades into a vat, naked. Should he be discovered, he will doubtless have to play the silly, carefree prince, so vain that he escaped his prison for a bath. It would be a crowning achievement of embarrassment.

LMAO! I can just imagine how hilarious this would be.

Oak knows it’s ridiculous, and yet he can’t help feeling as though they have an understanding of each other

Oak had the bridle placed on him, he was imprisoned for three weeks, he was starved and neglected, and he still thinks this way of Wren. This boy is soooo in love.

Nor is he sure what it means about him that he finds hope in the fact that Wren has kept him. Fine, not everyone would see being thrown into a dungeon as a romantic gesture, but he’s choosing to at least consider the possibility that she put him there because she wants something more from him.

Oak is absolutely DELUSIONAL, DE LU LUUU. LIKE BOY FINDS BEING IMPRISIONED A ROMANTIC GESTURE. THAT IS VERY CONCERNING. IM CRYING

since Hyacinthe was the one who stole Damsel Fly

NO! NOT DAMSEL FLY TOOO! Oh a war is definitely coming.

Hyacinthe is now Wren’s second-in-command

oh this will not be a fun discovery for Tiernan.

Either way, he���d be free. Free to not need rescuing. Free to attempt to talk his sister out of whatever homicidal plan she might foment against the Citadel. Free to return home and go back to performing fecklessness, back to sharing the bed of anyone he thought might be planning a political coup, back to being an heir who never wants to inherit.

The way Oak believes he can talk Jude out of battling with Wren. Like does he not know his sister?

"Back to sharing the bed of anyone he thought might be planning a political coup" WHATTT!!! okay this is a huge deal, Oak has been sleeping with people to find out if they are a threat to him or elfhame. My poor boy, does oriona not watch over him??? or jude?? how did it get so bad that he had to start doing that???

Not that he knows how to stop either of them if he remains here. He’s not sure anyone knows how to stop Jude. And Wren has the power of annihilation. She can break curses and tear spells to pieces with barely any effort. She took apart Lady Nore as though she were a stick creature and spread her insides over the snow.

Yeah so when I finished The Stolen Heir, I feared for Jude and Cardan. Oak is right, Jude is dangerous and she will try to fight ANYTHING that gets in her way, but Wren is horrifically dangerous as well. I fear for both Jude and Wren. This is gonna be chaos.

Then he sees Wren, and longing shoots through him like a kick to the gut. He forgets about risk. Forgets about schemes.

OH OAKKK STOPPPPP.

“Not my future.” There is a hollowness to Wren’s cheeks, Oak notices. She’s thinner than she was, and her eyes shine with a feverish brightness. Has she been ill? Is this because of the wound in her side when she was struck by an arrow?

Oh no.

Bogdana does not contradict her this time. “You have need of my strength. And you have need of my companions if you hope to continue as you are.” Oak stiffens at those words, wondering at their meaning.

so wren is not doing so well, and bogdana hope she listens and gets help from her companions. the real question here is what is the problem?????

Mother Marrow does not seem discomfited in the least. She walks to Wren and deposits the white walnut in her hand. “Remember these words, then. To conjure it, say: We are weary and wish to rest our bones. Broken shell, bring me a cottage of stones.”

So wren can make a cottage appear and dissaper with the shell she received from mother marrow. Im assuming that this shell will be used in the story somehow. But what would get to that point? wren already lives in a palace of her own, so why give her a shell that can make a cottage house appear? will Oak use it when he escapes? will wren run away and use it???? im guessing this cottage house will be used significantly.

And yet, Oak notices that she sways a little before gripping the arm of her throne. Forcing herself upright. Something is very wrong.

Yikes.

The man steps forward. “Though I do not like to be outdone, I have nothing so fine to give you. But Bogdana summoned me here to see if I can undo what—”

So from what I'm getting, there's something more about wren we don't know about. something that's hurting her or affecting her deeply. Her power? stress and anxiety? I might need some time to crack this one.

Her eyes move restlessly under their lids, as though she doesn’t even feel safe in dreams. Her skin has a glassy quality, as though from sweat or possibly ice. What has she been doing to herself ?

I'm starting to feel very overprotective of Wren. With Jude and Cardan coming to the citadel to save Oak I fear for both sides.

But as though she can sense him, Wren opens her eyes.

SERIOUSLY THIS IS HOW THE CHAPTER ENDS??? At this point Oak is asking to be killed, he could've had the oppurtunity to escape, yet he chose to follow wren to her room. This chapter made me feel very empathetic of Wren, she looks like a villain, but she's really not. She has been betrayed, tortured, abused, neglected for many years, her actions of becoming queen and imprisoning Oak all come from hurt.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #22

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: self-deprecation

The days were getting shorter and colder, which meant the solstice was soon. Which meant solstice parties.

His old master locked him in the closet those nights, so he’d be out of the way. He could hear the drinking and the party games and presents being unwrapped from behind the door.

It meant messes, and it was always his job to clean up in the morning after the guests were long gone.

But this year, he could tell from Master Ambrose’s excited chatter that he wouldn’t be put away for the party. 

“It would be nice if you’d join us,” he’d said, “I know you don’t like talking to others, but just consider it, alright? You can always go upstairs if it’s too much.”

That was fine. He could talk. How hard could it be, right? 

The really hard part was finding a present for Ambrose. Everyone at a solstice party got a present. And he didn’t know anyone except Master Ambrose. It would be rude not to give him something.

He even had the money to buy a gift. But what?

Ambrose had a lot of books. Elliot wasn’t sure he’d be able to get one that Master didn’t already have.

Master Ambrose was running low on incense for his altar, but he’d hadn’t been praying much lately. It would be a bad gift.

Maybe a teapot? Or a kettle? Master liked tea, but didn’t have either one. He used a pot on the stove for one cup at a time. It was silly to think Elliot was smart at all, but surely it would be better to make lots of tea at once? He drank so much of it.

Both, then. Something pretty; dark blue to match his favorite mug.

Elliot went to put the broom away. He liked thinking when he swept. But sweeping time was over. Everything was clean from top to bottom. 

Well, except for Master’s room and all the laundry. He still wasn’t really allowed to clean up there, or wash any clothes. He wondered a little about that. Not that it was any of his business, but laundry was boring and he couldn’t see why Master insisted on doing it himself when he had a slave who could.

Right, thinking time was over. 

He glanced out the window. It wasn’t snowing, but it had last night and the pristine white still lay on the ground. 

Elliot hated snow. Ambrose had told him that there was probably going to be snow either on the ground or in the air all winter. Gross.

He’d have to go out into it. Walk into town, find the general store that was full of solstice goods, buy the kettle and teapot, and walk back. In the cold.

In the cold where he could freeze to death or lose fingers or toes or get horrifically sick again. And Master wouldn't have his solstice present and would have a body to bury. If he was worth burying.

Master had said he was proud of him. That he was getting better. Elliot didn’t feel brave, but if Ambrose said it, it must be true. Would he be even more proud if he had gone out into the snow?

Either way, next year he’d go buy the present before the cold came. If Master Ambrose still had him by next year.

Elliot trudged upstairs and gathered the loose pile of gold coins he put in his sock drawer. He placed them into the pouch of his belt, one by one, trying to delay going out. Unfortunately he only had so many coins, and the snow was still there. 

Elliot chewed the inside of his cheek. He pulled the heavy coat from the wardrobe and wrapped it around himself. He yanked on his boots and tugged on the gloves and mittens Katie made for him.

He thudded downstairs a little, unused to the weight of wool. But he made it out the door, and it wasn’t… so bad.

Okay it was awful, but Master needed a solstice gift. 

He walked down the road, avoiding the slush on the ground. His boots were leather and waterproof but he didn’t like risking it.

The snow was pretty, even if it was horridly cold. He paused to look at the untouched fields and branches of evergreens. They were so white and the light sparkled off the icicles.

If only snow came in a warm version.

He wanted to take in a little more of the view, but he could feel eyes on him. Staring. 

It was a small town and he was still a stranger here. Maybe the solstice party could change that. 

Best to move on anyway.

He came to the store quickly enough. The window was decorated in evergreen and paper flowers that mimicked spring plants. Candles too, but they were unlit.

The whole point of the solstice was to coax in spring and give presents and throw parties to keep people happy through the empty days of winter. Spring would come no matter how many paper and fabric flowers people made, but the fun was nice. Or so he heard through the closet door.

He browsed through the aisles, looking for the kitchen items among the bits and bobs of toys and fancy things.

Elliot wasn’t sure if the party would work on him. Nothing much had ever made him happy. 

He looked at the funny bottles of perfume. All perfume bottles were strange to him. Just be normal glass bottles instead of in the shape of bows or shoes or stars. Weird and impractical.

“Hi, can I help you find something?” 

“Oh. Um,” Elliot turned to find the voice. A woman with graying brown hair smiled at him. “Hello.” 

Maybe making conversation would be harder than he thought. 

“Uh, where are the tea sets?” 

“Right over here.” She led him to the next aisle over, and sure enough it was full of ceramics.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Are you getting some solstice shopping done?�� 

“Yes, ma’am. I’m buying Mas- I mean, Ambrose, a teapot. He doesn’t have one.”

“Ah, I know Ambrose! You must be Elliot, then. I’m Judy. Don’t worry, I'll keep quiet about your gift,” she winked. 

“Thank you, ma’am.” A thought nagged at him. “But, um, how do you know my name?” 

“You know us old folks, we like to talk.” He shifted, uncomfortable.

“All good things, hun,” she reassured. “But I’ll let you get back to your shopping. Happy Solstice!”

“Happy solstice, ma’am.” He waited until Judy left to wrap his arms around himself. It really was hard to talk to people. Being quiet was just so easy. Too easy.

If he wanted Ambrose to be proud of him, he’d have to work harder at it.

He looked at the rows of cups and sugar bowls and creamers and more. Teapots were right at eye level thank goodness. He was too small for things on the top shelves.

They came in many patterns. Mostly flowers and landscapes, occasionally birds and buildings.

Too fussy for Ambrose. He liked the roses and gold pattern, but that was a whole set. He just needed the pot.

Only a few of them were solid colors. 

There was plain white, red, black, green, and blue. The blue didn’t match the dark mug that Master favored. It would clash.

Elliot worried his lip.

Black maybe? No, that would be hard to see in the early mornings and late nights. 

Red didn’t seem like it would go well with the rest of Ambrose’s things. 

White or green?

Green or white?

Which one would make Ambrose happy?

White went with everything, he decided. It could always be painted if Master Ambrose hated it. He’d get a kettle too, just to be sure.

He turned to see a selection of kettles. That choice was easy, they were all copper. He picked up the one with the elegant spout, and got the teapot from the shelf. Cradling it in his arms, he carefully picked his way through the store.

“Would you like these wrapped?” asked Judy at the counter.

“Yes, please, ma’am.”

Judy pulled two boxes from under the counter. She lined the first box with paper and cloth scraps. She gently laid the pot down, removing the lid to stuff balled up paper inside. Judy put the ceramic lid on upside down, and the box’s lid fit snugly over it. 

The kettle didn’t need nearly as much care.

After, she pulled a pretty patterned paper down from a roll attached to the counter. It was green with white dots for the holiday. 

Judy was precise with the paper, none of it was wasted. She tied both boxes with twine, a pretty bow on top.

It seemed like a lot of work, but it was for Ambrose after all. He deserved it.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome sweetie. Stay warm!” She waved as he left.

Elliot liked Judy. Maybe she’d be at the party. That’d be nice.

He made his way home, the boxes heavy but his heart lighter. 

Ambrose smiled at him as he walked in. “What have you got there?” he nodded at the boxes.

Elliot grinned at him and said nothing. He knew Master was kidding. Ambrose shook his head.

“I guess I won’t tell you about your present,” he joked, “Your loss.” He turned back to his book.

Elliot hid the boxes in his wardrobe. 

He was definitely looking forward to the solstice party.

taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain @secretwhumplair @paintedpigeon1 @whump-blog @whump-em @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @starfields08000 @littlespacecastle @mylovelyme @whump-cravings @zeewbee @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @keepingwhumpwiththekardashians @fanastyfinder @roblingoblin285 @whumpzone @snakebites-and-ink @astrokea @magdalena-writes

[halalgirlmeg]

I just feel like if people wanna talk about how boycotting doesn't work they're like...I feel like they don't understand somethings. 1) Money talks, in the world we are in money matters so when people start losing money esp CEOs or whatever that's when they start shaking in they boots, Yemeni people and Indigenous groups got in they boats and started blocking ships and people started taking note cause it was affecting their business

Like have we not seen reports of McDonald's and Starbucks losing money because of people boycotting?

Also, there is the BDS specific lists they have on their website, those for the average consumer, those for larger companies, pressure boycotts (I think the ones where it's a use only as needed i.e. Google and Amazon).

Then I mean to even go beyond that I wonder how many people really have looked into the companies that are funded by Israel. Like Ferrero is on the boycott list, they are in partnership with girl scout cookies like they are a part of the bakery, Honeywell makes Heaters and AC units if you live in the US and you have central AC they could possibly be powering your homes AC/heat, and Proctor and Gamble, Dove, Tampax, Always are on there too they make hygiene products, or for instance when I used to think of Nestle I was like oh the chocolate company but they also make water (or bottle it persay) they also own hot pockets, even freaking wal-mart is on the list and I know some people will not be able to boycott that

And this is just taking about Palestine.

I saw most horrific video yesterday of a woman in Congo talking about what soldiers did to her and her husband like her face is burned into my brain. And it's all for what? Phones and Cars and Tablets and Vapes. You know I bought a phone a year or two ago and that thing kicked the bucket after maybe a year but I turned on my older phone and I'm still using it now, so imagine us just not getting the new iPhone or Samsung (cause some ppl harping on Apple like 99 percent of tech companies are complicit) like children women and men are dying for what? And for why? So imagine if we all said keep it I'm good.

The power and the reach of boycotting is not to be understated imo and ppl writing it off as easy must not be seeing the laundry list of companies that are complicit in genocide in what is modern day slavery like...

I mean it's like I'm not perfect by no means but it's like if you don't want to boycott say that, if you don't always have the means that's understandable but don't lie and say it can't work or doesn't because the facts are that it does. At the very least it can help you be mindful of your consumption and where your money goes

[qwuilty]

One Nine Hundred (Postal 1 Fanfic)

Hiii guess who has more time to fic write :3c My spring semester is coming to a close so i have less time caught up in homework and decided to get back into writing a little!

It's a postal 1 fic cause of course. It's based on the easter egg of going up to the payphones and hearing women moan.

Warning that it does start sexually, nothing actually NSFW progresses besides some initiation, but it cuts off from there. No ships included, unnamed narrator character, mostly just focused on writing P1 dialog and all. And of course, canon typical descriptions of violence, fic below the cut! ^^

Another long night.

The woman checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror again, sure her clients never saw her, but it felt like she still needed to dress up a little for the occasion. Working at these kinds of call girl gigs wasn’t exactly her favorite thing in the world, but she could manage the ones calling and it paid her bills, plus it was kind of nice working from home even if they had to supply her the phone to use. Something about making sure she wasn’t dicking around and calling friends on their hours.

At the ring of her receiver she quickly left the small bathroom, closing the door behind her on instinct as she made her way to the bed. Taking a short, deep breath, she quickly answered. “Welcome to Angel’s Kiss hotline, how’re you doing honey?” Her voice naturally fell to a sweeter tone, something to keep them feeling comfortable and sell the fantasy a little.

“Hah.. Feeling a little down. Wife’s been driving me up the wall, practically had to sneak out to get away from the bitch.” Oh great, a married guy. Course, it wasn’t surprising, she’d gotten calls from them before, it was all business to her, but they always had such a complex about it. “Mhm.. I bet, must be hard living with someone like that, you must get real lonely at night..” Of course, nothing wrong with playing into that a little, gave her extra material to work with. The sound of commotion in the back and his whispering tone told her the guy probably ran off to some payphone looking to get his rocks off for a bit.

He continued on, complaining about his wife to her in a whispering tone as she just let him go on and on for a while. Her eyes idly glanced around her bedroom, wondering if she needed to clean some of that laundry in the hamper, shifting a little on the soft sheets before he allowed her a moment to speak. “Poor thing. Don’t worry about her tonight sugar, you can trust me to take good, good care of you.”

Appealing to the fantasy was always more her strong suit, taking the bits the callers left her and running from there.  “Tell me, what’re you wearing, handsome?” More just a formality, but he was eager to describe and play along, giving her some time to think it over and get her details consistent. “Wh- What about you, gorgeous?” Shit, he was done already. “Ah, I'm wearing a nice, pink nightgown. Soft, satin. Maybe a little something extra, but you’re going to have to find that out yourself.” A little giggle and he was already hooked.

“Oh hoh.. I’d love to find out, you-” The sound of his voice was cut off by the sound of something loud, like an explosion that even she could hear ringing in her ears. The man’s voice became panicked, swearing as the phone fell down, the sounds of gunshots, screaming, all permeating in the air through the phone as she could hardly bring herself to breathe, let alone hang up.

She huddled up on the bed, hunching into her legs in a sort of fetal position. Soon the commotion died down, only the sounds of footsteps and some horrific, terrible gurgling in the distance. “Sir…?” Her voice quivered, trying to choke out whatever words she could. “Sir, are you okay? Is everything okay there?” A spine chilling silence filled the room until a voice responded. “Hello?”

This wasn’t her client.

His breathing was laborious, sounding like he had just run a marathon, if there wasn’t such a physical barrier between the two it’d feel like he was breathing down her neck. “Hi… Do- Is everything okay?” She stammered, holding onto the phone cord so tight she felt like she’d break it in two. “...No. It’s not okay. Where are you?” Her heart skipped a beat, she wasn’t going to let this fucking creep know where she was! “...I’m sorry, I- I can’t tell you that, that’s against policy.” She swallowed, closing her eyes roughly and hoping to god that’d get him to drop it.

“Are you at least outside of Paradise, Arizona?” Her eyes opened, looking besides herself. “Yeah… Yeah I'm far away from there.” He let out a sigh of relief, that seemed to satiate him. Truthfully she wasn’t that far, but hell if she was going to let him know that. “Thank god. Look, I'm going to be honest with you, please… PLEASE hear me out.” His voice was soft, trying to make sure she could understand his words, but he was clearly upset and the sound of car alarms going off in the background didn’t help him sound any more calming. “There’s something going on here. It’s not- It’s not SAFE.”

She let him continue, fearing the worst if she interrupted. Getting on this guy’s nerves didn’t seem like a very good idea. “There’s some kind of disease, this horrible sickness. It’s makin’ everyone here crazy, they’re like- It’s like watchin’ fucking wild animals, circling around waiting to tear into each-other.” His voice got faster, gripping the payphone roughly. “Listen. Listen. You’ve gotta- It’s- Warn the others. I don’t know if anyone outside knows about this. It could be some real deep shit. Maybe even governmental scale here. And I don't know if I'm makin’ it out alive.”

Every part of her screamed to hang up, to call the fucking cops and hide in her closet until she knew it was safe. But she just couldn’t. It was as if her very body had tensed up, frozen still. “I need you to tell them. I’m going to save everyone, I'm going to make sure this doesn’t spread any further. I don’t know you, and I'm guessing you don’t know me either. But please.” He almost sounded like he was going to cry at this point, his breathing was hitched. “You gotta help them. It’s- Shit!” She jumped a little, she was nowhere near the danger but she had been so caught up in his words she almost forgot about the situation at hand.

The phone dropped again, voices shouting, something about Arizona State Police, then gunfire. The sounds of several men dying at the hands of whoever the hell had picked up that phone. When it finally ended, all she had left was the dial tone and her room, now feeling a cold sensation around her and a deep sense of fear washing over.

“...Sir?”

“Sir, are you there?”

[shmowder]

Honestly I put yulia in the neutral tier since I’m very similar to her in some regards and I’m having a crisis every other Wednesday so like I could get high with her we can have a crisis as a team! But no yeah in retrospect not really a neutral option unless you enjoy depression…or unless she mellows out while under the influence which isn’t probably likely

Oh yeah if you get high with Aspity some sort of horrific thing will occur to you during or afterwards that’s one where you dug your own grave now lay in and oh god the idea of giggly happy high Daniil is absolutely beautiful he’d absolutely demand you never speak of that to anyone ever as if anyone would actually believe you to begin with if you attempted to tell them that.

Thought of some more characters after sending the original ask so I’ll give those thoughts as well because oh boy did I start thinking a lot about this most of it while I myself was under the influence, I’d probably put Nina kain as well into the it could become a terrifying experience to be high/get high with her genuinely do not think that experience goes well for you that just seems like it ends poorly, Lara seems like she could go either way as well it might be a good experience or it could get depressing as all hell that or she’d become oddly productive no matter how it goes I love Lara so I don’t care which it becomes I’ll get high with her still. Including the executioners since it’s too funny not to, this assuming you could get high with them which would be a horrifying experience in which it would feel like you are dying….probably because you die afterwards or similar to Aspity something bad happens to you in some way shape or form but then again you dug your own grave buckroo. The last character I have any thoughts on how they’d be around to smoke with is vlad the younger and I think that’d be a miserable experience I don’t think it’d anything expect absolutely miserable I don’t know why you’d want to get high with him anyway but if you do it won’t be fun at least that’s my opinion.

-immune anon

honestly who am i to rain on your parade if the "half-empty glass" woman is your cup of tea. Pass her that joint.

For Vlad Jr, I understand where you're coming from.

But I don't think it'd be that bad. He's the type who thinks "this ediable ain't shit" five minutes later. "Can the kin worms communicate with the worms in the ground below?"

He remains collected for half an hour through the trip before it all hits him at once. He either freaks out or becomes the most mellowed out version of himself.

In both scenarios, he's the type to go full conspiracy theorist. Making connections between unrelated things, uncovering mysteries that were allegedly hidden in plain sight.

Vlad Jr. as your trip sitter is when his virtues shine through....kinda of. He doesn't let you wander off into the street in your current state, at least. But he mind put you through the "🐭🐭🐭🐭🐰🐭🐭 Spot the rabbit!" cocomelon quizzes type shit. Out of curiosity.

Casually bringing up the embarrassing stuff you did the next day. "Hey, remember yesterday when you showed me your animal print sock collection, then proceeded to cry on the floor in a fetus position when you couldn't find the other pair to the frog socks? Well :) I paid some people to break into your house and search for them, here you go. It apparently was at the bottom of your laundry basket. You must have missed it under the pile of clothes."

Or mentioning how he found some pebble shaped candy in the store, so you don't have to go and eat rocks like you kept talking about while high last night.

It's like he is trying to be helpful–but his definition of help isn't the most appropriate or useful.

[alex-rambles]

Ok so like I never planned to share my ao3 but I am way too proud of this fic I wrote on it sooo

Feel free to check out my isekai self insert while you're there too. Just don't make fun of me.

If you don't wanna go to ao3...

You can read it here! On Tumblr! Yippee!

Gore warning

You had known, of course.

He told you. You were the only person he ever told.

The truth behind what happened that day in 1987, what happened to Elizabeth, the things he had done.

A disgusting man, yet one you loved nonetheless.

And because you loved him, you did nothing to stop him.

He told you that he had business to attend to in the pizzeria, he'd be back soon, but he didn't come back. 

And with his ramblings about remnant, about how the kids he killed possessed those robots, you couldn't help but consider the possibility that maybe those kids wanted their much-deserved vengeance. And considering that possibility? That made you anxious.

So after a while, you go there. 

The place is empty. The animatronics aren't even there. William is nowhere to be found. 

The safe room. He showed you how to enter, and if he isn't here, he must be there, so-

You are greeted by a horrific sight, and an equally bad smell.

The smell of death, and the look of a very, very bad accident.

Blood pools around a slumped Springbonnie suit, and instantly, you know what happened here. You're barely able to stifle a scream.

You walk closer. Blood- William's blood- gets on your shoes, an absolutely horrific sensation.

You know he's not alive, but you can't help but have that positively fantastical hope that maybe he could be alive. In more pain than one would ever be able to understand, but alive. He wouldn't leave you like this. He wouldn't! Not your William, not the one who whispered such beautiful things to you while you helped him fold laundry, not the one who was honest about his crimes for you and only you, not him, oh god, not him-

He's gone. All the blood, the way he's positioned, you can't hear even shallow breathing from inside the suit.

You pick up his hand, the hand inside the suit, and hold it for a minute, before slamming it on the ground suddenly.

"Why?!"

You speak- no, you scream- to his corpse.

He left you all alone, just because he was too scared of facing the consequences of his actions, because he had some stupid, unattainable desire for immortality! That's not fair!

You collapse onto your knees, tears falling from your eyes. 

Stupid leaky ceiling, stupid William, stupid children that took him away from you, stupid, stupid-

An idea occurs to you

The kids came back. Albeit stuck in probably painful robotic bodies, but technically "alive," yes? Why can't William?

You feel bad for thinking it, after all, it might hurt him to come back (not even might, it would for sure, being in a mechanical body would be awful), but you miss him already. 

As for how long that process takes? You'll wait. You'll stay in this silly room forever, if that's what it takes. Right here with him. You can stand the smell, it's just William.

He'll come back, and you'll be with him.

And you know that for sure, because there's a spare suit in here. Leaky roof should trigger the things easy enough. It'll hurt like hell for sure, but it'll be so worth it. 

You struggle to get the old Freddy Fazbear suit on, but you finally do.

A drop of water hits.

Snap

Snap

Click.

You scream.

[morningmask27]

I do sometimes find it really annoying that most of the things I do right now are At Least tangentially related to a trauma I lived through.

I am living in a university dorm right now, it's a very typical thing to do, but most people return to their family home during the weekends and only really stay in the dorms because they have classes in the week and having to go from their home to the classes, especially the 9 am classes, can be heavy if they live somewhat further away. I stay in my dorm the entire week. For Reasons I don't want to go back to my old home for longer than half a day to drop my laundry and leave with clean clothes, some food and a chat with my mother. I wouldn't feel good doing so anymore, but mentioning that is weird because most people (except internationals because going to a full on other country just for the weekend, every weekend, would be a bit dumb) return to their home (My dorm feels more like home to me right now than my old house did btw).

When I say I stay in my dorm people are somewhat confused, as it on its own already implies that something must not be that good at the familial home for me to not go there for the weekends. By the simple fact I don't go back it's already implied there is something wrong, and it's true, there Is something wrong, but I can't just start explaining the whole thing, it's not really appropriate for most conversations, and I simply don't want to open up about this part of my traumas. So I just have to quickly and very blatantly brush off that fact and the unpleasant implications to continue the conversation without making it awkward and it's so annoying.

Most of my weird trauma responses at least have the added thing that if I don't verbalize them nobody will really notice. I am good at hiding them, I kinda had to, but this dorm situation is such a blatant sign of something Weird (and not the good kind) that I cannot hide since my actions on their own imply a situation already.

I am somewhat good at dealing with all of these issues, brushing off The Problems is a typical part of normal conversations, but it does get frustrating sometimes when I get severely affected by something traumatic, and it's The Only reason that my problem happened, but I cannot talk about it in casual conversations because of how heavy and intense it is. I have to vaguely mention The Horrors (They Are Complex) and move on before I make my conversation partner uncomfortable. It happened when I had to miss a class because of a severe relapse in my mental health, it happens every time I mention I stay in my dorm the weekends, it happens whenever I get too jittery and weird because of stress (I don't even always know Why I am stressed) and I just cannot explain anything about the cause because it's too heavy for most people to hear. (I do understand that fact, it makes sense you're not going to tell classmates casually about the horrific stuff you went through in your personal life, but it fucking gets annoying when it is fully related to a situation and I have to Shut The Fuck Up anyway.)

It's just frustrating to me that I have to deal with all these Weird Things because of trauma, and everyone sees them, but I cannot explain where they come from truthfully because of how much they are. It's in this weird middle state where people See I am weird hurt, but they don't Know why. I do things differently for reasons they can assume are unpleasant, but I cannot ever truly explain everything to them.

[jankwritten]

Thinking a lot recently about obsessional versus compulsive OCD because me and my coworker are so so similar and yet so different. We both have massive anxiety and OCD like symptoms, but for him it’s compulsive (he has to clean his home daily and do his laundry a certain way and check his bank accounts etc. because otherwise he has a fear everything will disappear and go bad. He also works until 3 AM because he’s convinced he’ll miss a deadline or not do something if he doesn’t do it immediately then and he drinks himself to near sickness almost every night so he can sleep) whereas for me it’s obsessional (thinking constantly about how everything can go wrong at any time and I have no control to stop it, constantly thinking about how I must be racist because I noticed a person’s skin tone and therefore I’m a horrible human being, not being able to be anywhere near children because my brain immediately races about all the awful things I could do to the point it makes me sick and nauseas, every single conversation I have being a race to see if I can finish a sentence before my brain gets involved and convinced me I’m going to say something stupid and horrific and disgusting).

I was diagnosed with severe GAD and major depressive disorder just recently, but I feel like this is a little more than that, for both me and my coworker. Like, there’s anxiety, and then there’s….whatever he and I have going on.

[phoenix-knight]

The Wicked Stepmother of Queerland

so I recently watched the 2022 sequel to the enchanted movie, "Disenchanted".

something I noticed in this movie is that although it was made as a satire on the cliche elements of the wicked stepmother which are usually. they gave a nice spin to it by using it as one of the plot twists. to see the ever-mellifluous melodious cheerful stubbornly optimistic Giselle slowly change into an "evil stepmother" was curious to watch.

let's dive into the essential characteristics of being an evil stepmother as mentioned by Giselle herself:

hair held high : idk seems to be a staple, all villains have pointy faces and even pointier hairdos. somehow the elongation is supposed to convince that they are the evil ones. although we love a good 90s blowout moment , its a bit old to make all the villains so...well long and for some reason always someone who has curly hair. as a curly myself, I don't take easily to that. outside of Merida in the movie brave and Moana, I have rarely seen positive representations of curly hair. we could just attribute it to how hard it is to animate curly hair, but fuck it, you didn't do us justice Disney.

vain: having a deep neckline and shiny pretty dresses made Giselle gasp in despair as she dreaded turning into the evil wicked stepmother. the deep neckline?? honestly, its hot. a person's chest is their own damn business, whether you wanna tape it up or let em free. free the titty, overrun the city. also, when did feeling pretty and having confidence by buying yourself flattering dresses become "vain". so anything a woman does which is contradicts the servient pure innocent overly selfless good to a fault image of any female protagonist is immediately "vain". i mean, you give us corsets but HATE it when we develop a backbone?? like what??? god forbid I actually think I feel beautiful or have confidence, which is clearly a crime in animated film which depict supposed fairy tales. I'm not sure which is the reality and which the dream world. the only way a gurl can go shopping is if three fairy godmothers of fashionista paradise accidently find you wanting a dress and conjure it for you with matching shoes to go.

ambitious: reaching, trying or even thinking about bigger things than just the chores, laundry, helpfully moving stuff around, or sacrificing her life for a man, is clearly a sin lol. like forgive me for thinking I had the multidimensionality in my female protagonist character to actually have different facets of development. it must be horrific to know that I have bigger ideas than finding true love, or that I don't believe in the box you have forced me to contort myself into. wanting to be queen, or empress or any general authority figure has always been the job of some queer coded oddball villain lady. just look at the ensemble - maleficient, ursula, wicked stepmother, witch, ice queen lady in narnia... you see the pattern here??? any woman or femme presenting person or a "tomboyish manly" woman has always been conveniently usurped from their power because they weren't "good" enough. fuck you disney

cruelty: cruelty seems to only be recognized and condemned when coming from any woman in a position of power or authority. however, a man's cruelty is excused as "he loved her but he had his reasons". the wicked stepmother was condemned, sure... but the father?? what about him? the father who blatantly ignored the obvious signs of mistreatment and abuse and chose to pretend it didn't exist, using "oh I had to go far away to make sure I had enough money to bring my daughter a rose, a dress and some food if she's lucky". how dumb do you have to be to do this to your daughter when the stepmother was not even subtle about her obvious disgust and disdain for Cinderella. is cruelty cruel only when a woman isn't the epitome of selflessness anymore?? so its not cruelty when a man does whatever the fuck he wants to suit his "needs" and conveniently brushes it off as "a necessary evil".

side note : what the fuck is it with colors and disney? every single villain I have seen wears the brightest most vibrant colors which show off their beauty, a sign of confidence and beauty. everything which makes them look like a badass bitch is made to create a negative impression in the minds of the audience. oh my godss the greys and the faded blues and the blacks whyyyyyyyyyy numbed tones, subdued hue and shade, Istg they need some glam to feel better damnit!

basically everything which is empowering to a woman irl is not so subtly queer coded and presented to be an "evil" thing.

...and....you ask why I have rage?

[rin-the-cat]

I have so much stuff I needed to do today. My last final was Thursday, I worked yesterday, tomorrow we are doing Christmas with my family and Christmas day we are driving down to visit my husband's family. Yesterday I was only scheduled noon to 5:30 but we had a last minute emergency come in (winner for the dumbest dog of the year award for drinking diesel fuel... Just wtf. Poison control recommended we give him a dawn bath in case there was any on his fur and he kept burping and I just about passed out from the fumes.) and then I went to Walmart to pick up some last minute stuff and by the time I got home I was so tired I just couldn't do anything. So that jusy left today to do everything. I slept in a little and when I got up my head was so fuzzy I just couldn't get my brain to work and every noise felt overwhelming. I finally went up and laid down for a while and when i came back down I put my earbuds in. (later when I was feeling better i took one out so I could hear what was going on around me, my 3 year old saw me put it back in the case and when he realized I was still wearing the other one he asked me for it and went and put it away, I told my husband, "I think I just had my ear buds revoked 😂"

So family tradition states we must have oyster soup for Christmas eve dinner even though only 2 or 3 people (out of 11) will eat it. We've always had atleast one other option for people who don't like it. The last several years my mom made lasagna, one regular and one vegan (for my brother and sil who are vegetarian and she has a dairy allergy) I said I would make the vegan lasagna this year (because I love it too) but that I wasn't going to make a regular one too. So priorities one and two today were to get the kitchen clean enough that I could make the lasagna without worrying about getting pet hair or something in it and to make the lasagna... And I did accomplish that much. N did dishes and I cleared off the counters. I got the lasagna put together and it's ready to bake tomorrow. N wanted to get the house picked up some in case anyone needed to stop by while we were gone (last time we went to visit his family my brother ended up scheduling the assessment while we were gone. We didn't know about it before hand and I would have spend the whole week fretting about it if I hadn't gotten a tooth root abscess to distract me. The whole week was kind of a disaster.) and he did get the living room floor picked up mostly, if we just vaccume a little it won't look too horrific. We both worked on some laundry and got a bunch washed but it's all just piled up in a chair. I haven't started packing and I still have presents to wrap but i brought the youngest up to bed and I can't convince myself to go back down. I just want to go to bed. N put the 7yo to bed before the 3yo and I came up and I haven't heard a peep from him since so either he fell asleep in M's room or he went straight to bed in the spare room after M fell asleep. N wants to take the kids to church tomorrow and I'd like to go but I might end up staying home to try and get stuff done...

[the-firebird69]

He says people should not be talking to him in space they say things that are so rude and we never say he's more luck are so obscene and we have to look at that and says we have to have a meeting saying what we're saying to people and the same to each other it's obscene what they're saying is disgustingly rude

-the laundry is going okay but the people here are terrifyingly bad horrifically stupid and everybody involved it is going to get ripped a s*** and they can't figure it out and yeah they bring in soiled stuff if huge assholes here huge you would not believe how bad but we're going to town and today we're going to take it to them

More shortly

Hera

Zues

Olympus there's other news there's a huge amount of people who are gathering at the 25th ring that is and they are getting a huge pile of people that's around 4 trillion and they insist on doing it now and they're trying to take over DC New York and the rest of New England and people are saying no and it's the minority morlock and minorities and the empire and they are going to start getting their asses handed to them is what they said we have to protect these buildings from you and they say your pigs you don't do regular maintenance there's one problem and seeing their threatening the building that we built and other buildings are important and they don't want them there and it's turned into a fight it really is it's going on now in about 20 minutes they're going to start hearing about it and turn into huge assholes down here thinking that they get something from bothering one person who has value to their realm because of a parallel that's getting weaker and weaker and soon it won't be necessary and they won't even know it

-refinishing up with phase 5 for one of the planets and it is going to be ready very soon and within days and the other one will follow shortly he wants my father and mother and his father and mother to accelerate the schedule by hiring people to maximum and by moving up to the chain and he says why and he says because we have to start doing that as a matter of course for a huge project that just opened up and others that are coming up that are huge they said I'm going to do that because we need to see how it goes and he's starting it now that's a good idea

Hera Zues

They are way too big they can take 20 years is what he says and we have to get production going where we are much much more of it we need to have it all ready he says before that project starts and he's saying that he's tempted to say we can't start it unless it's ready it's February I'm going to put that up today and he says we're bringing it in the summit and we have to have a special meeting to get production going and convert factories and change people over to the military and right now and we don't have enough to do it it's going to be part of interplanetary defense systems I'm going to go ahead and do this right we have to have it ready

Thor Freya

It will probably help I mean we are only at 50% of what we needed for those two and I can present that too and say these are much much bigger and it's going to be a little harder and we have to get going on it and we have to do it now we have to make it and we have to do it our way and it has to be done now as a whole and we have to help each other we really need to hire everybody all sorts of positions can be done by others and he's recommending that we say this to our people you're overqualified for your position and you are bored tired and not challenged there are a lot of people who need to get in and you know who they are and they can take your shoes and fill them and you'll be satisfied with their performance and it must start doing that now

Zig Zag

Olympus

[billconrad]

Writing About a Controversial Topic

    Authors break new ground in their books to generate sales and interest, but almost every plot concept/type has been explored, so it is hard to stand out. One method authors use to rise above their peers is to write about a controversial topic. This push outside the norm generates buzz and excites readers. It also benefits society by bringing exposure to unspoken topics.

     An example of an old controversial topic is scary monsters. When Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein got published, the reaction was explosive. People were afraid to sleep because scientists might steal their body parts to make monsters. This concept was over-the-top terrifying, generating a huge amount of interest. Now, sewing a monster together out of random body parts is a timid concept and evokes little interest. Unfortunately, exposure to a controversial topic makes readers uninterested, and authors must keep thinking expansively. That is both the power of the press and its curse.

    Authors are constantly looking for new topics that upset people. They also recycle old ones. A mean criminal who rebels against society? Writers never tire of that. How about a cannibal? People will always despise them. I think the future of controversy lies in privacy, AI, personal security, strange surgical alterations, business ethics, online creations, and restricting the freedom we now have.

    I avoid controversial topics because I am not a big enough author to weather the storm. My most prominent attempt to push a boundary occurred in my second book, Kim and Gabe Survive. The story is about a 17-year-old female and a 34-year-old male surviving a tragic event. They have a minor romance, but my romantic scenes were more intimate when I first released the book. The feedback was immediate and horrific. Did I bow to the pressure and make a second edition? I folded faster than Superman on laundry day!

    My conservative personality has always steered me clear of controversy. I'm not too fond of criticism and take every step to avoid it. However, some writers live for stirring up trouble. Is that an excellent tactic for an upcoming writer? A writer needs to be bold to make an impression. Prominent writers have figured out how to write about a controversial topic so that they get positive reviews. For example, the well-received book 50 Shades of Grey was controversial. They even got a movie deal.

    So where does my lack of controversial topics ultimately leave me? I will always avoid controversy in my writings (and my life). This intentional choice of avoiding controversy was present from a very early age. Does this mean my books will never be bold, take risks, or push the envelope? Tragically, yes. I am okay with this choice because I can sleep knowing my work is not intentionally upsetting people.

   You’re the best -Bill

   June 06, 2023

    Hey book lovers, I published three! Please check them out.

    Interviewing Immortality is a psychological thriller about a 500-year-old woman who forces a disgraced author to interview her.

    Pushed to the Edge of Survival is a drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

    Cable Ties is a classic spy novel about two hunters discovering that government communications are being recorded and the ensuing FBI investigation.

   These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

[moa-broke-me]

Can I just get on my soapbox for a moment?

Listen, intermediate-level writers:

Not every bit of dialogue needs to be tagged.

So often, what I see in writing advice circles is the debate between 'said is dead' and 'said is fine actually, just use that'. And I'd like to propose a middle ground:

'said' is useless, for the most part, at least in narrative writing. If there's a more descriptive word to, well, describe the dialogue than 'said', which is more often than not, then it's generally good practice to go with the more compelling option. But the advice 'said is dead' fails to fully prepare new writers for what to do in the moments, which are more common than you'd initially think, when there's nothing remarkable about how the character says what they say.

So whenever you're tempted to say 'he said' 'she said' 'I said' etc, do this instead:

Don't. Tag. That. Line. Of. Dialogue.

It's really that simple. If you don't have anything interesting to say, it's best not to say anything at all, rather than floundering around for any word other than 'said' to tag your dialogue with. It looks sloppy and clunky, we can practically see you through the pages, tearing your hair out while staring at the computer screen, grasping at straws, and it's honestly pathetic.

Just. Don't.

'But Mace, what if I'm writing a three-way conversation? How will the readers know which character is saying what?'

Use a gesture instead. case in point:

I sighed. "Can we get this over with, please? I need to get to class."

"Not until you've come to understand the consequences of your actions." She licked her thumb and turned a page in the morning paper, before stopping to peer at me over her glasses. "Not just for you, but for me. For your mother, for your father, for all my other students."

"How the hell is-"

She shut me up with a glare.

I chewed the inside of my lip. "How is it my fault that my shirt got put in the wash with a single red sock? I'm not the one that does the laundry around here."

Felix put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't fight with her, there's no way you'll win."

"Would you shut up? Just because you're scared of your own shadow-"

The headmistress slammed her hands on the table. "Both of you, stop chatting it up over there!"

I rolled my eyes. Why was I constantly getting interrupted today? "What am I supposed to do, teach? I'm bored out of my wits."

"Good. This is supposed to be a punishment, in case you've forgotten."

Suddenly, Felix did something in a millisecond what it takes most people nine whole months in the womb: He grew a spine. "Miss Coxcomb, the decor is punishment enough."

"Both of you quit your blabbing before I put duct tape over your mouths!" Her ruler came down fast and hard, earning a whimper from Felix.

She left the room with a few curt clicks of her heels, and he looked over at me, pouting and holding his injured knuckles. "Now look what you did."

I just shook my head. For once, I couldn't find the wherewithal to argue. Felix seemed to be back to his usual self, which left me horrifically disappointed. I guess all good things must come to an end.

Did you have any trouble figuring out which character said what? Most people wouldn't.

Bottom line: Dialogue tags aren't necessary 100% of the time.

Ok, soapbox moment over, back to your regularly scheduled program.

[raccustoms]

Horror Pregnancy

Possible Triggers: Stillborn/abortion, possession, abduction

You wake up suddenly one morning feeling nauseated, and need to rush to the bathroom to throw up. Concerned, your partner makes sure you're okay and gets you some water. You both brush it off as a bug or something you ate last night, but you decide to take a test, and realize you're pregnant. You both are overjoyed.

_______

(Belly still fairly small) Cut to you, asleep, tossing and turning in your sleep. You're moaning, almost screaming, clearly having a terrible nightmare. Your partner wakes you up to reassure you that everything is okay. You wake up, explain you had a dream that you were being abducted by aliens, or possessed by a demon, or something, and try to brush it off, but you sense something is off--maybe you even go to the bathroom to splash some water in your face, and you look at your reflection in the mirror, holding your belly protectively.

_______

The next morning, you wake up again, feeling nauseated. At four months now, you thought this stage was over, but it seems like it's not. This time though, to your horror, you're vomit is pitch black. You and your partner rush to the hospital.

_______

You're getting an ultrasound, and you're not as excited as you should be. You have a dark sense that something is wrong. To your surprise, the ultrasound tech reveals you are carrying healthy twins, and not just one baby like you they originally thought, and they reassure you that you are healthy and it must have just been something you ate. You are hesitant to be excited, but you are at least glad to hear they both seem healthy and active.

_______

You're in the kitchen or doing laundry, or getting ready for the day, when you start to contract. You fear labor might be starting. You brush off the first one, but the next one comes on VERY sharp and painful. You feel the rush of relief as your water breaks, but to your horror, you look down and see that your water is black (maybe this happens while you're in the shower or on the toilet?). Panicked, you rush to the hospital.

______

You're pushing, screaming in IMMENSE pain (I'd love to hear you get as loud as you can) as you feel a large baby start to emerge from inside you. It feels red hot, it burns, and you panic and writhe as if you're trying to escape from it, maybe trying to push backwards against your bed like you are scared of what's coming out of you. Maybe you beg "Get it out of me!!!" This is a horrific, painful, and intense labor. The baby finally emerges, a big, healthy baby boy.

_______

You take a breather, maybe you mention that you dont want to hold the baby. Maybe you're delirious and keep saying "that's not my baby, that's not my son..." You need to focus on delivering the next one. The doctor mentions there's a lot of blood this time but you continue pushing. After a while, your baby emerges, but you dont hear any crying. The doctor takes the baby away, leaving you begging "Wheres my baby? Whats wrong with my baby?? I want to see my baby!!". You are left in bed, crying, exhausted, begging, and distraught.