#link got some 'splaining to do!

[sunset-peril]

The Castle was filled with some kind of uneasy energy. Pryze didn’t know why, but the Wolfbred had felt it in every bone since the sunrise. The Blood Moon last night had been an unwelcome surprise, for sure, but his deeper soul believed that something more than a celestial event had offset Hyrule’s center. Part of the Princess’ guard he may be, he stood his assigned post just outside the observation room. No shaking of his head or reorienting of his ears could distract him: something was amiss in the castle.

Another member of the Princess’ guard, a Hylian man about his age, was sent to what sounded like unrest in Castle Town, which further sold Pryze that something wasn’t quite right. They weren’t by the Princess’ side as often as Captain Link, for a variety of reasons making varying levels of sense, but he couldn’t help but contemplate why they’d be assigned somewhere other than the Princess’ general vicinity with this amount of uneasiness.

Maybe it was just his innate Wolfbred anxiety. After all, Captain Link was obviously unconcerned enough, as he had not called off the training he’d been scheduled to do with the First Gatehouse guards. Pryze had nothing better to do than to let his mind run wild while he stood at his post, so he let his mind do so throughout the morning, until he was relieved around the lunch hour. On his way to the dining hall, one of the handmaidens for the Princess approached him. Rapidly enough that his instinct was to brace for battle. 

“Sir Pryze! You’re not alongside the Princess this morning?”

He recognized this Sheikah, but not enough to know her name. Their shared history usually meant he avoided the white-haired Hylians when possible, to ease himself if nothing else. “No, handmaiden, I received an entry guard post today.”

“Master Link seems to also be absent from his place.”

“He has been training knights at the First Gatehouse. Will probably be doing so until all those guards are worn ragged.”

“What interesting timing! Especially with such uneasy news that the Castle has received. Have you received the news yet, Sir Pryze?”

He turned his head to further face her, tipping his snout downwards. Despite his wariness and need for stoicism, he did not wish to depict himself coldly. “I’m afraid not. What is such news?”

“Princess Zelda was discovered to be pregnant just last night.”

The air fell from his lungs. “What?” He felt sweat forming on his brow and hairline; his heart hammered in his chest.

“Oh, I know, what a shock! I don’t believe the King knows who the father is, otherwise I’m sure an arrest would have been made already. Something other than this dreaded uneasiness.”

“I, uh-” His eyelids fluttered closed. “I should… alert my captain. This is something he will wish to know.” 

He shouldn’t be walking so quickly through the Castle halls. He looked suspicious, or at least someone bearing urgent news. But he couldn’t slow. Heck, this was the best he could do to keep from running. Something had happened, and he knew immediately what it was. Stupid Pryze, stupid. She smelled off the last time the whole Princess’ Guard was together. Stupid, stupid, the Captain was a Wolfbred with four unbonded seasons, of course!

He arrived at the gatehouse just as his captain finished yet another sparring match. Either he had arrived in the middle of a lecture, or Link was sparring just to spar. Either was likely at this hour. “Captain Link! I must speak with you urgently!”

His captain turned immediately, sheathing his sword with a nod.

As soon as the pair were aside and far enough away from other ears, their eyes met and Pryze’s words came rushing out. Link’s ears drooped as those words flowed out, and he twisted his scarred face to avert his gaze from his subordinate’s.” 

“Captain Link, what have you done?”

[perhaps-relax]

Religious alignment chart w/ internet quotes

I am not a theologian, hope this helps

Links and alt text under the cut:

Gnostic Theism: “Tell me the name of God, you fungal piece of shit” @personsonable on tumblr [link]

Anti-gnostic Theism: “If the zoo bans me from hollering at the animals, I will face God and walk backwards into Hell” @dril on twitter [link]

Agnostic Theism: “I don’t care where the sun goes at night, he’s an asshole” Firebringer by Starkid [link]

Gnostic Deism: “When I kill God, I will find the spigot from which he measures out grace and smash it permanently open” @Linux on twitter [link]

Anti-gnostic Deism: “God may not have to beg my forgiveness, but He’s got some ‘splaining to do” -Robert Semple on Quora [link]

Agnostic Deism: “I guess I would scream too-ie if I knew a God could hear me”  @soupygarbagejuice on TikTok [link]

Gnostic Anatheism: “Humanity named kindness, it must know kindness” @realbrucespringsteen on tumblr [link]

Anti-gnostic Anatheism: “Wide-eyed and hackles raised, I will conquer the Devil and rid the world of doubt.” @little-tunny on tumblr/@itslittletunny on twitter [link]

Agnostic Anatheism: “I need to sink my teeth into the material world and unmake God’s creation” @chaumas-deactivated20230115 on tumblr [link]

[asherlockstudy]

EB Disasters

Disaster #1

Link: You've got some splaining to do, because I'm personally, like when I glanced at it (Rhett's new tattoo), first time I saw it, I was completely confused and... uh... jealous of course. But also - Rhett: Jealous? Link: Uh Rhett: Yeah... more into me. Link: Offended. I was offended. What I think it meant offended me deeply.

Disaster #2

Link: I'll invite you over at the right time for the right listening party. Rhett: What am I gonna do? Just sit there in front of you? Link: You're gonna listen to music. Rhett: Just by myself? Link: Jfjdjh... uh... maybe? Rhett: I just sit on the couch opposite Elkhound Snugglebaby and just watch him? I don't know about that. I feel like bringing somebody. Can I bring my wife? Link: Uhhh... y... yes, yes. Rhett: Can we make out? Me and my wife? Link: NO. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Rhett: Can we dance? Link: If that's where I take you, if that's the feelings that start coming up, you know, then I feel like that that would be a testimony to my ability to usher you into - Rhett: A state of rupture.

Disaster #3

Being so absorbed by analysing Rhett’s tattoo they didn’t feel an earthquake that was even visible on camera.

[bitchesgetriches]

Hi Bitches

I'm thinking about downloading acorns to buy some individual stocks. Thing is I already have a mutual fund and Roth Ira with an institution. With the accounts I already have they send me all the tax info I need. Not sure if I even can buy individual stocks through them but would it make more sense to? I guess how complicated is acorns tax wise for someone who has investments but still doesn't really know how this all works?

You're in luck, cutie pie. For I, your humble Bitch Piggy, not only invest in Acorns... but I also have a Roth IRA, a 401(k), and an brokerage account invested in index funds. You can (and some would argue should) have multiple investing vehicles.

As to the taxes: Acorns will send you the same tax info your other investing vehicles send you for tax time. If you're just depositing and not withdrawing though, your taxes are less complicated. Does that sort of answer the question?

Now, as to buying individual stocks... that's something I'd recommend doing through whatever vehicle you've got your mutual fund in. Lemme splain.

Your investment VEHICLE and your ALLOCATIONS are different. So for example, my Roth IRA is the vehicle, and it's allocated to an index fund. You have to do both steps: get an investment vehicle AND allocate the funds. You can have a percentage of the money invested in a particular vehicle allocated to different things. So you could have 90% of the money in a brokerage account allocated to a mutual fund, and the other 10% allocated to buying individual stocks. More on that here:

PLEASE Tell Me You’re Not Making This Disastrous Beginner Mistake with Your Retirement Funds

That's why when you say you have a "mutual fund," I encourage you to learn more about the vehicle that mutual fund is in, because you might be able to use some of its fund to buy individual stocks.

Lastly, you asked about buying individual stocks with Acorns. I BELIEVE an Acorns account can only be allocated to various ETFs (exchange-traded funds). ETFs are like mini index funds that only track certain sectors of the stock market. They're just about as cautious as index funds, just more specific. So for example, you can invest in the pets ETF, which tracks various petcare companies. Or invest in the fast food ETF, and make sure all your money is invested in Taco Bell and its ilk. Whatever. Anyway, it's more specific than allocating to an index fund, but less specific than buying individual stocks.

Here's my link to get started. If you use it to set up your Acorns account and start investing, you get $5, I get $5.

Hope that helps, kiddo!

[thebloggerbloggerfun]

Hey, I did a three word Kofi prompt with you at some point during quarantine and then I forgot about it for 6 months and now I can’t find it, is there any way you could repost it or send me a link? 🙏 very sorry I have no concept of time

YOU KNOW I looked it up and I don’t think I ever wrote it!! Sorry about that! A true tragedy. Anyway, here it FINALLY is after all these months: a Destiel ficlet based on the words Sunlight, Marble, and Blood.

It was nine fifty-nine in the evening and Castiel was wearing a well-pressed suit, a baby-blue tie, and a frown. 

The frown deepened as the clock finally struck ten, and Castiel let out a disgruntled breath of air. 

"Figures.” He murmured to the empty room in front of him. 

There was a table to his left with remnants of half-finished spells that he’d been procrastinating and scrolls with lists of potion ingredients that he’d recently run out of - a messy space that mocked all of the choices he’d made to end up in this exact moment instead of doing something productive.  

Castiel set his jaw, and walked over to the table. 

He had the spell memorized by this point - he’d used it so many times over the years that he barely needed to double-check his work. Crushed femur bone, sulfur, wolfsbane; all tossed into a well-used marble bowl that he’d managed to clean just the day before. 

Castiel then picked up the black ceremonial dagger and cut an incision across the palm of his hand, hissing as the steel bit into his flesh, and let the blood fall into place among the other ingredients. 

After saying a few, quick lines of Latin, Castiel gripped the bowl with his bloody hand, lit a match with the other and walked to the center of the room, staring into the dark circle painted onto the floorboards in front of him. 

He let out another breath, dropped the match into the bowl, and flung the entire thing into the circle. 

The room lit up like a flash of sunlight as the dark lines sparked bright yellow, then orange, then red - and Castiel winced as a high-pitched whistling noise filled the air, then was quickly cut off as a powerful being appeared in the center of the glowing circle. 

A handsome male figure with a strong jaw, dusty hair, and freckles framing his face was standing in an awkward half-crouch in nothing but Scooby-Doo boxer briefs and a single oven mitt. 

“Uh,” the figure said, glancing down at himself and then back up at Castiel, “Cas, what the hell?”

Castiel folded his arms against his chest and said nothing as he stared daggers at the man in the summoning circle. 

“I mean - uh,” the man stood a little straighter as his eyes flashed black and dragged up and down Castiel’s figure, “Wow. You look - you look good.”

“You forgot.” Castiel said bluntly. 

“I - what?” The man squinted at him. 

“Dean.” Castiel huffed. “This was important.”

“Cas, I - ” Dean scratched at his head with his oven-mitted hand, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Castiel scowled, and the circle began to grow brighter. 

“Our anniversary.” He said, scarcely able to believe that Dean had completely forgotten about their plans to actually splurge on a fancy restaurant for the first time in their year-long relationship. 

Dean paused, mouth half open as he stared back at Castiel’s stormy expression. 

“. . . is tomorrow.” Dean said. 

Castiel opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, and opened it again. 

“. . .No, it’s today.” 

“Babe, our first date was on the nineteenth.” Dean said, stepping as close to the edge of the circle as he could. “That’s tomorrow.”

“But -” Castiel scrambled for words, “but we met today.” 

Dean’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ and his expression softened. 

“Oh, Cas, I’m sorry. This is uh, I think we got a little confused.” A gentle smile formed on his lips as he pressed his hand up against the invisible barrier that separated the two of them. “Can I come out now?”

A moment passed before Castiel nodded once and dragged the sole of his shoe along the circle, breaking the line and stopping the glow. 

Dean stepped out of the circle and carefully grabbed Castiel’s bloodied hand, inspecting it with a glance. 

“You really don’t have to cut your whole palm, you know.” Dean said, and waved a hand over it, sealing the wound instantly. “Just a single drop will do.”

Castiel only rolled his eyes at the demon trying to magic-splain to a witch. 

“I know.” He said, the tone of his voice was short. “I was feeling dramatic.”

“Yeah, I - I get that.” Dean said with a small laugh, but his hand didn’t leave Castiel’s. “I’m sorry, I thought that you meant the anniversary of our first date.”

“And I thought it was going to be the anniversary of our first meeting.” Castiel admitted bashfully. “I suppose I should. . .communicate better.”

“Nah, it’s my fault, too,” Dean said, and took a half-step backwards to blatantly get an eyeful, “But damn. I’m not going to complain about seeing you in that suit a day early.”

Castiel chuckled and cocked his head to the side

“And your choice of casual-wear is stunning as well.” 

Dean smirked and gestured at his mostly-naked body with the oven-mitt. 

“You like? They’re custom-made.”

“Is the oven-mitt also custom-made?” Castiel said with a raised eyebrow, then paused. “Were you in the middle of baking when I summoned you?”

Dean’s eyes widened. 

“Ah shit. My cookies.” 

Castiel laughed and tugged on Dean’s hand, leading him out of the summoning room. 

“Come on - let me make it up to you.”

“Cas, this is serious. What if it starts a fire?”

“. . . “

“I’m kidding. I live in Hell. Make it up to me Your Ruggedness.”

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 18

Now one would assume, as I let the devil into my office, that I would be on edge. Terrified that he’d make a move, that he’d do to me what he’d done to Becca Butcher. I wasn’t. Not even a tiny drop. I was perturbed. I was irritated. I was worried that Billy would show up and all hell would break loose, but never once did I fear that the science experiment gone horribly awry would harm me. Why? You’ll see.

I took my chair, the same one that Billy had made sure I had, pushing his slightly away so I had more room if necessary. I gestured to one of the far less comfortable visitor chairs, and contemplated for a moment having Joseph return the chair of pain that he’d seemed so happy to take for his own. Tossing his cape gallantly behind him as I fought against rolling my eyes at the fucking drama of it all, he sat as though the ugly utilitarian chair was a throne and I felt bile rise in my throat. How could anyone stand him?

“Well?” I sat back, waiting. “I’m a busy woman, so have your say and get out.”

One perfectly arched eyebrow raised, clearly not expecting me to be less than welcoming. Oh I do love when someone thinks they have the upper hand. “I’m sure you are VERY busy with Billy Butcher, Dr. Taylor.” Ah, he was going to go for blackmail, this should be interesting. “After all the ‘work’ you two get into in this very office, that chair really stands up to some hard exercise, doesn’t it?” So he’d been spying for awhile. Since he had super hearing and the ability to be an uber peeping Tom, I wasn’t all that shocked that he’d focus on this office. I stayed silent, passive, bored. “Surely, Dr. Taylor, you wouldn’t want your SUPERIORS to know that you’re dipping in the office pool?”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it, honestly, the look on his face was so fucking sure and confident that I’d bend. Poor thing. “You think that my superiors who told me to ‘do what was necessary’ to keep Billy Butcher from waging a full scale war on you and your kind would give a flying rat’s ass HOW I keep him calm?” I was bullshitting, but he didn’t know that, I hoped. “Besides, Homelander, between you and me, if you show mine, I’ll show yours.” I’d managed, while he was tossing out his innuendos to pull up some video and a few files that I’d requested from higher up, knowing that there had to be SOMETHING to make sure this moron stayed in his lane, and boy was I right. Turning my laptop so he could see it, I smiled as his eyes took in the video. “Should I zoom in? I mean, you can’t REALLY get the full effect of your nursing if I keep it full room.” It was a video, that Stillwell had taken, of the illustrious hero in front of me suckling like a babe at her ample bosom. “Shall I open the file for you? You seem so SUPEd up about being a dad, I’d imagine you’d be just as happy to know how Teddy Stillwell was conceived, because I’m fairly certain you weren’t in the room, or at least not ALL of you.” I glanced down at his crotch and made a face.

“How?” He hissed, and I could see him contemplating torching my laptop. “Where did you-”

“Now now,” I shook my head and stood up to walk toward the door. “Just know that I have it, and I’m more than willing to release it, and a lot of other INTERESTING videos that've come across my desk. How would your NUMBERS fair if a sex tape of you and the disgraced Nazi whore Stormfront hit the airwaves?” He was fuming and I was standing at the door. “Now, Homelander, I think we’re through here, don’t you?” He stood and I knew he was thinking if I was dead he could make it look like an accident, I mean I just trumped him pretty fucking hard. “If anything happens to me?” He was so close I could FEEL his breath fanning the top of my head. “Everything is dumped to the public, EVERYTHING. And trust me when I say, if I’m not here to make sure that Billy doesn’t come for you, you’re as good as dead.” He snorted, copying me when I wasn’t impressed by his threat. “Do you have any idea how much ‘research’ went into killing Translucent?” He was glaring down at me. “The FUN they had when trying to find a way to end him, well, I can only imagine how much enjoyment Billy would have finding a way to make you a gooey pile of blood and gore, can’t you?” And with that final shot, I opened my door and loudly told him how wonderful it had been to have a moment to speak together. I knew the office had ears, and eyes, and I played my part as well as any CIA officer would. I even managed to NOT slam the door behind him, hopefully trapping his fucking stupid cape in the door and making him stumble, but damn if it wasn’t tempting.

 By the time Billy arrived, most of the chatter about my morning visitor had died down. Most, not all, which is why he seemed to fill the damn room once he was granted entry.

“Doc,” his nostrils were flared and I couldn’t imagine what he thought I should have fucking done. “That-” He stopped, trying to get himself under some form of control, but it seemed hard work.

“Billy,” I touched his hand and he didn’t flinch or pull away, so I counted it as a win. “Look at me.” He had his eyes focused on a wall, but he sighed and complied when I asked. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Now let’s sit and I’ll tell you all about the asshole’s visit and what I told him.” I took a breath. “It’s time you get read in on some things that I was sent.”

 It didn’t take long, since Homelander’s visit was brief, but Billy watched the videos, all of them and then read carefully through the files. That took longer, but it gave me time to watch him come down from his knee jerk reaction of ‘let me go fucking kill that wanker’.

“Wait,” his eyes met mine, “So not only was Stillwell giving Homelander his mummy fix, but the kid is-” I nodded. “‘Splains how the shitlet got so far away from the explosion without a hair out of place.” Another nod, since I’d had my suspicions when I heard about Teddy’s survival, I delved deep. Vought sucked at keeping track of supes, but not their sperm. “Knew about him and Stormfront, but the video,” he cringed and I mirrored it. “The plan is to keep this over his head?”

“For now,” I sighed. “More shit keeps coming to light, and almost all of it comes back to him and shady as fuck stuff.” Sitting back, I smiled when Billy took my hand and linked our fingers. “I wish I had access to this-” I stopped. If I’d had it before Becca died, then his hand and fingers would be hers. Hell, I wasn’t sure they weren’t still hers. Fuck. “Anyway,” I pulled my hand free and moved the laptop back in front of me. “We’re finished the files, and the boys are off doing recon and-”

“Ronnie?” I bit my lip and waited, bringing up the next goal on the laptop. “Why did you just-” and then I heard him sigh, and could almost see the gears click into place. “Veronica.”

“Homelander visiting gave me an idea for what we do next,” I said, changing the subject, needing to before my heart left my body and jumped out the window. “We need to make contact with the known and available-” and then he turned my face to his and brushed my lips with his own and I breathed in the scent of him. Calming slightly, but still unsure. “Interrupting me?” For once, I wasn’t opening my eyes to find his, I couldn’t, not yet. “We won’t get-” and then his mouth was hot on mine, forcing a noise that I only made when I was completely undone by him from my throat, which set off his own moan.

He pulled away, only far enough so our eyes could meet if I opened mine and so we could breathe. “Open your eyes, Ronnie,” I swallowed hard, fighting against the pull of his voice and the urge to see his eyes locked on mine. “Please?” That did it, like ‘open sesame’ my eyes opened and there he was. “She’s not here,” I felt my chest lock up. “She wasn’t here for a long time before that, Ronnie, and I never fucking moved on. Not one fucking step.” I knew this, I wrote the report on him and even the shit I found that didn’t matter stayed with me. “What coulda been doesn’t matter, don’t you see?” Did I? Not really. “It hurts, I won’t lie to you, it does.” Another gulp from me, but I didn’t pull away, not when his eyes held me hostage. “And I’m not sure I’ll ever NOT love her.” Great, that’s fucking fabu- “Doesn’t mean I can’t love you too, right?” Wait, what?

I blinked. And then I blinked some more. Did he just? “You what me?” I asked, blinking a little more for good measure, wondering idly if maybe I HAD died at Homelander’s hands...eyes, whatever.

“I love you, Veronica.” He was smirking, even if I didn’t check his lips. I fucking knew it from the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. “What?”

I was still blinking. Shit. “You love me?” Wrap your head around that, Doc, I thought. “YOU love ME?” Maybe new emphasis on different words would help? Nope. I blinked some more.

“Think I broke you.” Now I knew the fucker was smirking. “Yes, Doctor Veronica Taylor CIA officer extraordinaire, I fucking love you.”

That actually made more sense, the way he put it there. “Right.” I bit my lip as he started down at me. “What?” I asked, feeling far more playful now that I was fairly certain I wasn’t dead.

“I just told you I love you,” his eyebrow shot up and I nearly laughed, almost. “And all you have to say is ‘right’?”

“William Butcher, are you jockeying for me to reciprocate your declaration of love?” He gave a bit of a nod. “Jesus, you’re so fucking needy.” It was his turn to blink, and I had to admit, it was a fun experience, but I didn’t want to torture him. Not for long anyway. “I do love you,” I said it with an exasperated eye roll. “I didn’t know it was going to take Homelander blackmailing me for you to tell me though.” And that did it, he chuckled and I joined him, before kissing his lips gently. “I do, you know?”

“I do now,” he offered wryly.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Girl’s Night Out

A multiple AU piece of fun featuring my female LIs

Elizabeth Dalgleish wakes in an unfamiliar place in the company of three strangers. What they have to tell her will change her life completely - but she will have a lot of fun too!

Word Count 1559

A/N This might not make sense if you’ve not read my other fics, but I will try to explain.  All four of my female LI’s are going to meet in cyberspace along the lines of the Many Lives of Drake Walker and have one heck of a party. Here Elizabeth (star of my regency period drama Past Times) wakes to find herself in the company of Lucy from Two’s Company Three’s Allowed, Charlotte of Charlotte’s Choice and Sophia of Protect and Serve, and they have some ‘splaining to do…

Prologue

Elizabeth Dalgleish lay quite still. She had fallen asleep to dreams of her Captain; of the kisses they shared, of the delicious tingles that ran up her arm when their hands touched, of the warm feeling in her belly and in her womanhood when she looked deep into his eyes. But she had woken to unfamiliar voices.

‘Okay Sophia, we’re tired of hearing what a stallion Bastien is, and what a massive penis he has. Let me tell you, it’s not what you’ve got, it’s how you use it’ The first voice was regal and clipped, and as she lay quietly trying to work out what was going on, another voice piped up. It was another woman, and her voice was sultry and deep.

‘You’ve not lived until you’ve had two men in your bed, believe me – and one of them a King’

‘You two are unbelievable. Just because you’ve both got titles doesn’t mean a thing. Bas and I do just fine thankyou, we don’t need a palace to live in, or a manor or fancy titles.’

‘That’s cruel, Sophia’ the first voice went on ‘I was born into it, I had no choice’

‘More like written into it’ the second voice chimed in.

Elizabeth struggled to understand what was going on. What was this talk of other men? She opened her eyes a little to see what was going on. The three women had their backs to her, and were dressed strangely. Had she somehow woken up in the future? What could these new fashions be? Frantically she ran her hands over her long muslin nightdress, knowing how completely different she must look from the other women. She didn’t follow fashion slavishly like some she knew – but how embarrassing to be wearing last year’s dress when meeting strangers. One of the women turned and jumped slightly. She had long dark wavy hair and her dress was of the deepest purple hue she had ever seen. She blushed to see that her legs were bare.

‘Hold on, this one’s waking up’ she said ‘How come she’s self aware? Les has barely written half a dozen chapters’

‘Careful, you’ll frighten her’ The woman who had spoken of a palace had long flowing blonde hair, and came to her side ‘It’s okay darling, we won’t hurt you’ Her accent was familiar – she was very obviously English although she couldn’t place her regional accent.

‘W – where am I? Who are you?’ Elizabeth sat up. The room she was in was strange – it was white, brightly lit, and she lay on a white padded table. The other women sat on odd chairs made of a peculiar white substance like ivory, but the shapes flowed and curved and were far too large to be of that material.

‘Oh boy’ said the woman with long dark hair ‘how are we going to explain this? She’s not even from the same time period’

‘Let’s start with names’ said the blonde woman, smiling at her reassuringly ‘I’m Sophia, and this is Lucy - and Charlotte. Queen Charlotte’ Elizabeth sat up even straighter, alarmed, then ducked her head in an impromptu bow.

‘Queen? Your majesty – I’m Elizabeth’ she started timidly.

‘Hey, don’t forget I’m Queen too’ Lucy chimed in.

‘Frigging royalty’ muttered Sophia, then louder she added ‘Don’t worry darling, you don’t have to bow or curtsy – their titles are entirely fictional’

‘Fictional?’ Charlotte burst out ‘How dare you!’

‘Yes, well explain to Elizabeth here how you’re both queen of the same country in the same timeline’ Sophia said sarcastically, and Charlotte subsided. Elizabeth swung her legs over the side of the table to face the other three. She crossed her hands over her chest

‘I’m so sorry, I’m not dressed properly’ she apologised ‘I’d just gone to bed, and then – well, I woke up here’

‘Oh don’t worry sweetie’ Lucy said ‘You can wear whatever you want to – just think about it’

‘I – whatever do you mean?’ Elizabeth protested.

‘Well, like this’ Lucy said, closing her eyes.

‘Wait Lucy – don’t…’ Charlotte’s tone was urgent. To Elizabeth’s amazement, her dress changed colour – and style. She shrieked and her hands flew to her throat in alarm.

‘Witchcraft!’ she cried, terrified ‘What hellish nightmare is this?’

‘Calm down Elizabeth, it’s alright’ Sophia said soothingly, but her heart hammered in her ribcage and her breath grew short. ‘Okay, okay, it’s all a dream’ she said ‘Close your eyes and think of where you were when you went to sleep. Deep slow breaths now…’ Elizabeth closed her eyes and obeyed her.

‘Okay, open your eyes’ came Sophia’s voice as she pictured her bedroom. On opening them again, she was comforted to see she was indeed still in her very own bedroom, sitting on the edge of her four poster bed. The other bed beside it was empty, and she wondered where her younger sister, Amelia, was. The other three women were still there, so she drew a shuddering breath and stood up to go over to her closet and pull on a robe.

‘What are you all doing here?’ she asked, making her voice firm even though internally she was far from calm. ‘If this is a dream why don’t I know you all?’ Charlotte sighed

‘Do you only dream of people you know?’ she asked. Elizabeth furrowed her brow in thought

‘Not always - oh, I see your point. But why are you dressed like that? Is it some sort of foreign fashion – or a costume party?’ Sophia looked at Lucy sharply

‘Not exactly’ she said ‘I really don’t know how to explain things to you.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the mattress for Elizabeth to join her. She looked around the room and her eyes alighted on a book next to the bed. ‘Do you read novels – romances, Elizabeth?’ She nodded, blushing

‘Mama tells me they are not for refined young ladies – but I can’t help it, they are so exciting!’ Sophia smiled and patted her hand

‘Well, Elizabeth, it’s like this – we – all four of us – are characters in a book – each of us has our own story, but the same writer’ Elizabeth frowned. ‘It’s not quite that simple’ Sophia went on ‘but when a story is read a lot, the characters come alive. It’s odd because your story hasn’t been read very often, I don’t quite know how you’re self aware’

‘You mean – I’m not real?’ Elizabeth gasped. She pinched herself ‘I feel real’ she said, puzzled.

‘Well, what is real?’ Sophia smiled ‘Our writer sometimes comes to visit us. I don’t know quite how it works, but her reality is different from ours. I suppose yours is also quite different to ours.’

‘Oh?’ she asked, her mind whirling ‘Different in what way?’

‘We – well, effectively we come from the future – the twenty first century’ Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide to start with, then she squeezed them shut, starting to chant

‘This is all a dream, this is all a dream, thisisalladream…’ After a while she opened them again, and rubbed at her eyes, but nothing had changed. Her shoulders sagged. She had no choice but to believe Sophia.

‘I don’t understand’ she said ‘How can this be?’ Sophia shrugged

‘It’s just the way things are’ she replied, and squeezed her hand. ‘Hey, maybe we should tell you a bit about our stories and you can tell us about yours. It could be fun’

‘We could visit some of the others’ grinned Lucy. Sophia glared at her

‘Baby steps Lucy, baby steps’ she warned. ‘Okay Elizabeth – tell us your story. Who’s your love interest?’

‘My what?’ she asked puzzled, then realised ‘Oh – my young man’ her eyes shone as she remembered

‘I’m getting married tomorrow’ she said ‘To Captain John Lykel’ her voice was dreamy ‘He’s wonderful – so gentle, so loving. So handsome.’

‘Knowing Les, probably hot as hell and great in the sack’ Lucy piped up. ‘You’ve got one heck of a wedding night coming, darling’ Elizabeth blanched at her coarse words, which she did not quite understand. Her eye alighted on Charlotte’s ring finger, and she looked at the other two women. Lucy had two wedding rings, Charlotte had an engagement and wedding ring, and Sophia had an engagement ring.

‘You all have beaus?’ she asked, then thinking perhaps they didn’t quite understand her. ‘Sweethearts - husbands?’ Lucy laughed

‘And then some’ Elizabeth frowned. Sophia patted her hand again.

‘Yes darling, our writer has given us all someone special. We’re all linked in a way – because we’ve been self aware for a while longer than you, we know each other’s stories. But we should probably explain. Make yourself comfortable, and we will too’ She closed her eyes and waved her hand, and an odd piece of furniture appeared. Elizabeth jumped, but took a deep breath. This was obviously ‘normal’ in her new reality, so she should probably get used to it, she thought. The item looked very much like the chaise longue in her front parlour, but it had a continuous back all along it. Charlotte looked down and dusted it off and shook out a cushion before sitting on one end, and Lucy plonked herself on the other. Sophia leaned back against the corner post of the four poster bed, and Elizabeth perched on the edge of the mattress.

‘Very well – tell me all about it’ she smiled. ‘It all sounds very exciting’

[salvatoreschool]

Legacies Recap: Payback's a Witch

The Salvatore School became a battleground on Thursday’s Legacies, as The Necromancer’s monstrous messenger turned every witch, werewolf, vampire and fairy (?!) against one another.

Identified as “an Arabian monster that whispers insecurities and feeds off discord,” the creature ignited an all-out war, pitting Hope against Landon, Dorian against Emma (welcome back!) and everyone else against… well, everyone else.

In fact, the only person seemingly unaffected by the monster’s manipulation was Wade, who theorized that he was misdiagnosed as a witch. During his Coven Day presentation, Wade said he believes that he’s actually a fairy — a theory that turned out to be 100-percent accurate. And were it not for Landon throwing himself at the monster, putting his trust and belief in Wade, we might never have gotten to see him spread those gorgeous wings.

Though Wade was able to stop the creature from destroying the mora miserium, it was merely a temporary solution. Alaric’s suggestion to encase the hourglass in cement and drop it in the lake was met with the appropriate amount of eye rolls from his daughters, but Lizzie had a better plan: work with the school’s witch community to create a new ascendant and trap the damn thing in a prison world. And it worked! A little too well, unfortunately.

Yes, the witches managed to successfully banish the mora miserium to another realm, but they didn’t realize that Alyssa Chang (ugh!) secretly linked the new and old ascendants, rigging them to transport the entire Saltzman family to the prison world created by pint-sized Lizzie and Josie all those years ago. As Alyssa explained to Emma, it was payback for what she and Alaric did to the students — a mystery I expect to unfold further in the coming weeks.

So imagine Alaric, Josie and Lizzie’s collective surprise when they suddenly materialized in the Salvatore Mansion-themed prison world with… Sebastian? (I’m not saying “I told you so,” but I knew Lizzie’s boyfriend wouldn’t willingly leave her behind. Alaric’s got some ‘splaining to do!)

Elsewhere this week…

* Josie experienced another vision of her darker self, this time warning her not to let the mora miserium break. And while I normally root for the good guys on this show, that vision has me curious about Josie’s potential darkness. Say it with me now: Let! It! Break!

* Hope thought she was doing the right thing by sharing her honest concerns with Landon (“I don’t want you to be the hero — the hero’s never the one left standing”), but her doubt in his fighting abilities only hurt him. And possibly their relationship.

* Alaric scheduled his first official date with Sheriff Mac, and assuming he’s able to escape the prison world at some point, I’m sure they’ll have a lovely time.

Your thoughts on this week’s fairy surprising episode of Legacies? Drop ’em in a comment below.

[iphoenixrising]

Have you ever thought of doing a random "accidentally married" thing with Tim? Say, he has a good day and helps two complete. Only those two people aren't actually human, and by helping them he accidentally married them by their traditions? I was reading a fanfiction about an accidental marriage and thought about your Tim.

Hi babe.

Ah, the only one I’ve done is here: https://iphoenixrising.tumblr.com/post/176647509047/from-that-writing-thing-you-reblogged-in-your. 

It’s a little bit of TimDami for your day ;)

But, I’m thinking like Red Robin just chilling out and taking down some awful alien bad guys hiding out on Earth with these two Barrilion detectives. The team is on a break for two weeks, so Red has found something to keep him occupied.

Barlot and Salsdan are good detectives. They’ve studied enough of Earth’s customs on their way chasing the gang of intergalactic baddies to get most of his terrible references. 

So, really. Score.

It’s even better when they finally track a shady link to the underground selling very advanced weaponry. His usual Whirlybirds are super effective and the small throwing discs Salsdan gave him before they made their way into the abandoned installation.

Since he would be a bad planetary host if the visitors got injured during an operation, he takes a few more hits than necessary to throw both of them out of the way one time or another. 

Still, it doesn’t take much more effort than a usual brawl between the team and H.I.V.E, so after the thugs are tied up and the aliens cuffed with special manacles, Red Robin is prepared to call it a good night.  

He ends up on their ship, patching himself up, talking to an ambassador on the wave comm to give his statement as “local law enforcement” (they don’t need to know differently), and rides to the Watch Tower with them to transfer the baddies to a holding cell and wait for a prison ship to swing by this sector.

Red Robin gives them a good-bye wave, and goes to the room he still has on the Watch Tower. One inside the Titan’s main set of rooms, a place he can get out of the suit and take a shower. 

He doesn’t expect the two detectives to be following him, and slip inside the main room with him until there are suddenly hands all over his body.

“This is lovely,” Barlot is at his throat, teeth moving over the tendon, drawing a gasp out of the pinned vigilante. “Perfect place for the first mating. Agree, partner?”

Salsdan moans in his mouth, eats his noises right down.

“Come, come, let him at least breathe. Stop being greedy!”

That shakes him out of being very pliant with the attention (it’s been a while, don’t judge, okay?), and the vigilante senses kick in automatically.

He flips over Barlot’s smaller figure, puts his back to the door, hands up for a possible strike. “What the utter fuck–”

“You saved our lives,” Salsdan blinks at him, hands up, “that’s the best courting gift I’ve ever got, even from this blort.”

“I gave your a perfectly acceptable gift!” Barlot snipes back, eyes all for the beautiful, intelligent Earthling he is fairly salivating to have.

“Stop. Right. There.” Red only straightens slightly, “I did not give anyone a courting gift. At. All.”

“Husband,” Barlot chances a step closer, his unusual eyes softly fond, “aiding us in our quest is absolutely a courting gesture. But saving us? Both of us? At great risk to yourself? What else could that be except proof you like us enough to be– um, to be…joined? Ah, no, something else? Um…”

Salsdan is beside him, subtly getting even closer to the shocked vigilante. “Married, Bar. It is termed differently in our language, but the premise is the same.” And the hand suddenly on his jaw is just slightly cooler, softer than a normal human hand, turning him to look in those eyes. “When you spilled blood for us, you claimed us as yours, Husband.”

“I’m sorry…I what now?”

He flinches a little, but Barlot has him by one wrist, both of them closing in, “now, we can either accept by completing the ritual with copious mating and make vows.”

Copious. Mating.

What the hell has he gotten himself into?!

“This is a huge misunderstanding,” he deadpan even though the hand working itself to the back of his neck is rubbing out the knots there. “I am way too young to get married, and I saved you because it would be totally shitty of me to let any visitors on my planet get killed by bad guys.”

With his free hand, he grips Salsdan’s wrist, stopping the motion. His other hand turns in Barlot’s, holding both aliens still. 

The two detectives exchange a glance, something that vaguely reminds him of how Nightwing and Hood exchange those couple-y looks. 

“We definitely misunderstood,” Barlot turns back to meet his whiteouts with a small smile. “Our apologies.”

“If you would be open to it, we would still enjoy mating with you?” Salsdan finishes hopefully. “Without the joining, I promise. But you are quite a lovely creature, Red Robin. Bar and I would very much enjoy taking you to bed.”

Well, this is better than expected.

“…Tim. I… My name is Tim.”

Both aliens step up into him again, taking the statement for what it was.

Permission.

This time he can fall back into their hands, peel away layers of the suit, and drunkenly walk them through the communal room to his own. His mouth and body are kept busy with their attention and his own exploration. 

The make soft clicking noises against him, longer, rougher tongues on the sensitive parts of his body, and it feels fucking amazing to be touched.

It’s even better to be bracketed in by two bodies in between rounds for the next 48 hours, to be bare and held in a tangle of limbs, for lazy kisses against the back of his neck, the soft nips, and lithe tongue sliding back in his mouth when he’s awake enough to moan. 

But he doesn’t feel terrible when the fun is ended with a wave from home world. The next case is coming up, so it’s time to go home. And their last time trying out his shower is the absolute best way to diplomatically say come back any time.

He sees them to their ship suited up and masked, hair still slightly wet from the shower.

They shake his hand with soft smiles and a promise to try coming back one day. He grins back without believing a word, gives best of luck on the next move in the fight against the baddies, and goes back to his regularly schedule crime fighting time.

It’s a few months later, maybe when Tim’s working something close with the Batfamily in Gotham when the Barrilions show up again, and greet him with a little too much PDA for Hood and N not to notice. 

(Who zzat fucker nuzzlin’ my Timmy?)(If I’m going to cause an intergalactic incident, it’s going to be tonight.)

“Whoa! Nice to see you guys too,” while Red is literally lightheaded with how hot his face is, “right in the middle of a case here. This is Nightwing and the Red Hood. My…colleagues.” 

He doesn’t even see it when both vigilantes whip right the hell around to give him intense stares from behind whiteouts.

“Oh! More Earth law enforcements!” Barlot keeps an arm around his waist, above the utility belt. “How nice to meet you. Did our almost-Husband tell you of our adventures here on your planet?”

Salsdan slides up on his other side, and Red Robin pauses when he really, really thinks about how the aliens are both taller than him, lean muscle with dark-hair, strong jawlines and Barlot has a blue stripe in the fluff of hair above his eyes while Salsadan moves like a dancer…

(Oh. Fuck.)

“Almost-Husband, Red? Wanna ‘splain that ta us?”“Your…friends need to follow planetary protocol for all aliens, Red Robin,” and Nightwing is standing with back straight and an impressive loom going on there. “They have to check-in with the JLA at the Watch Tower before coming on-world.”

“Oh! Our mistake,” Barlot flutters his eyes at them with a smirk, “perhaps Tim could come with us to check in so we will know proper procedure for next time.”

Which is absolutely a crock of shit.

And the Bats seem to pick-up on it, Hood taking him by the wrist, pulling him away in a move that is terribly possessive for someone he just, you know, fights crime with and shit. 

“Ya already been visiting, asshole,” is low with the synths, “n’ we gotta date with our boy here. Earth business, s’ do me a solid an’ fuck off.”

Which will probably end with Hood and N trailing Red Robin back to his Perch when the sun is riding the sky in Gotham. The whole almost married thing will come out and probably spurn some terribly sweet scene with Jason and Dick pinning him down and demanding he say he’s theirs, not some alien fuckers, Timmers. We gotcha first.

Totally had dibs, Timmy.  So. Much. Dibs.

And something utterly insane is going to pop out of his kiss-swollen mouth, something he’s wanted for so fucking long–

“Prove it.”

**

WOW. That ah…that got long huh babe?

[artificialqueens]

Notebooks and Post-it's - Chapter 10 - (Branjie) - Thankyoumissvanjie

A/N: Thank you guys so fucking much for the response I received for last chapter. It warmed my heart! And yeah. Strap in. This is a big one.

Everything was pain.

Black spots were appearing in her vision, as she both felt present in her body, while also floating somewhere outside of it.

LINK TO AO3

Everything was pain.

Black spots were appearing in her vision, as she both felt present in her body, while also floating somewhere outside of it.

She could feel the lightning strikes of a sheer agony running up her leg.

But at the same time, she was also being able to admire the whiteness of the bone and how it contrasted so beautifully with the black of the catsuit.

Everything seemed to be moving - the crowd, the stage and everything turning into a blur as all she could see was that bone.

Brock

How had that happened?

Brock, please.

He felt phantom touches on his arms, pushing them away.

Baby, come on.

A sudden jostle made him scream in pain. The movement minuscule but enough to send flares of pure torture up his leg.

“Brock, please wake up!”

From one moment to the other he went from screaming on that stage to lying awake in bed, face to face with a worried José.

“Shit Mami, what you dreamin’ bout?”

Gasping and fumbling for the light, Brock didn’t answer him. He squinted against the sudden harsh light as he ripped off the sheet.

His ankle was hurting and then suddenly… it wasn’t.

The erratic beat of his heart filled his ears, making his head hurt.

He knew that José was talking to him, but couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t breathe.

Fuck.

Nothing was wrong.

No bone.

Just a dream.

The sweat was dripping down his chest.

It had felt so real.

“Brock. Baby. You gotta breathe right.” José’s voice was soft yet loud. Brock couldn’t concentrate as he leaned over his legs, grabbing the ankle, swearing that he could still feel the moment the bone had pierced his skin.

“Shit… my foot, my-“ He couldn’t look at him, couldn’t turn around, the memory felt too real. His chest hitching as his mind kept replaying the snap of the break.

It had felt so real.

“Shh. No talkin’ before you able to breathe like the rest of us,” he could sense that José was touching him, but his mind kept replaying the sound.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

“But I-“ the black spots were getting bigger. His throat felt tight, and he could feel himself going from feeling tense to experiencing full-on panic.

Snap.

Snap.

“Boo. You’re panicking,”

Snap

“Shit, Mami, imma need you to look at me.” José’s voice seemed far away, as Brock’s eye were zeroed in on his full functioning and definitely not broken ankle.

Snap.

Snap.

“No… I. My… foot-” His lungs were on fire.

He somewhat clinically registered that he would pass out if he didn’t start breathing regularly.

But the bone.

“Hey. You good. Just a dream. Nothin’ real. Yo foot is still smelly and ugly, and your face still cute.” José was trying to speak low, he was trying to seem comforting, but it couldn’t reach him. His eyes were glued to the ankle.

Snap.

Snap.

“Fu-” It had been such a long time since he had last had a panic attack. He needed to get this under control. He needed to just breathe.

But…

Snap.

“Bitch, what did I just say ‘bout speaking before yo breathing?” He could feel him moving on the bed, while also noting the alarmed tone that had appeared in his voice.

“I…”

“Stop. Brock. Look me at me.” Suddenly his face was turned and he looked into José’s eyes. The deep brown eyes that were the definition of home and comfort.

“Breathe. Can you do that for me, baby?” He tried to take a deep breath but it only sent him into a coughing fit.

José was breathing in deeply, exaggerating for Brock’s sake.

“Good. You just be followin’ me. Easy peasy, just in and out. You got this.”

For minutes they sat there on the bed.

Faces inches apart as Brock tried to copy his breathing pattern. Trying to make his lungs realise that the air wasn’t the enemy. That breathing was a good thing.

José eyes shone with worry. He had never seen Brock like this. So out of it.

As he got his breath under control, he could feel his skin prickle from the intimacy of what had just happened. He felt exposed.

It made him pull back from José. Made him avoid eye contact.

What the fuck was he doing?

“Okay?”

“Yeah, wow. Sorry.” He quickly got up from the bed, avoiding him, avoiding whatever had just happened. He felt a phantom pain in his ankle and wanted to scream.

Just a dream. Nothing more.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was all ‘bout?” The care and worry in his voice made him want to cry.

If he closed his eyes he could make himself believe that this was more than just fucking.

That what they were doing was the beginning of a restart to their relationship and not just a mistake that kept on happening.

“I need a drink,” This was all getting too real. He could feel his frail heart already getting cracks. The glue and tape he had used to repair it after last time slowly dissolving.

“Brock,” He was crawling over the bed, trying to reach for his hand.

“I am getting a drink”

“B…”

He walked out of the bedroom to find the rest of the wine, using it as an excuse to also get a single moment alone.

He knew that he was giving mixed signals, knew that José was probably sitting on the bed confused.

But fuck, he couldn’t take the idea of getting comforted by him, knowing that it was only temporary.

Knowing that the moment this tour was over he would go back to L.A. and Brock would…

Go somewhere else.

Finding the wine, forgotten on a table, he quickly downed both glasses. Feeling more centred after tasting the perfect mixture of sweetness and acidity on his tongue.

“Now really-“ the loud voice from the bedroom pulled him out of his musing.

“José, I do not want to talk about this,”

Pouring one more glass, Brock could feel all of his walls getting back in place, his armour covering him like a second skin.

He needed to protect himself.

Or stop this.

Either one.

Taking a deep breath, relishing the fact that the air didn’t get caught somewhere between his throat and lungs, he walked back into the bedroom.

“Well that’s too bad Brookie poo, cause I ain’t asking, I’m telling. So you best sit that lovely lil ass down and start splaining. What happened?”

The worry was etched into every corner of his face, the slant of his brows and the downward turn of his mouth giving the illusion that he cared more about Brock than him just being a good lay.

José must have gotten better at his acting since the season had ended.

“You can leave if you want,” Brock was tired. His body felt like it had run a marathon while his mind was going in circles, spiralling out of control as the horror of the dream mixed with the sweet torture of what he was doing to himself.

Really.

Casual sex with the ex that you still love? In what fucking universe was that ever going to work out.

“Shuddup! I ain’t leaving, so get talking.” Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he had his back turned toward him. He couldn’t look at him and see that worry.

It hurt too much.

“My foot. I-I.. broke my foot.” It was a nightmare that he had suffered through countless of times, breaking a limb one of the biggest fears of a ballet dancer. But it had been years since he had last had it.

“When?”

“No, in the dream. I broke my foot. In the dream. During a performance.” he could still hear it.

Snap

Could still see the shock in Vanjie’s eyes as he fell.

“Babe… it wasn’t real,” A hand was tentatively running up and down his back. Brock hated how his body betrayed him, as he felt himself relax under the touch.

“But what if it had been?”

“That stupid, cause it ain’t, no use in thinking about it, Boo… put down the wine and come back to bed.” The bed rustled lightly, as a small kiss was placed on his shoulder.

And then one more. And more.

“Fuck. I-I….” he could feel all his defences falling away. He could deal with the utter feeling of despair tomorrow. Tonight he could bury himself in José and hide away from the reality of what they were doing. Placing the glass on the side table he moved to turn around.

“Brock, I get it, I get all of this.” All the effort that had been put into making him relax flew out the window, as his shoulders tensed.

“Shut up, you don’t fucking know shit-“ he moved away from the bed, standing up so he could look him in the eye.

“Stop.” It was amazing how one word could have such an effect. José looked him calmly in the eye, his face displaying too many emotions for Brock to decipher. “I get it, Mami. You think my ADD ass don’t get panicky too?”

Of course.

“I… shit. Sorry, I’m all over the place,” all the anger left him, his shoulders dropping as he realised how stupid all of this was.

“Don’t go all Canadian on me, bitch. You remembered your meds?”

All he could do was nod. His whole body felt heavy. The dream, the panic attack and even this conversation were catching up with him.

“Good. Wanna came back to bed. You look dead on your feet, Mami.”

Slowly he got back into bed. José turning off the light and draping himself all over him.

It should have felt comforting.

His presence should have shut up the voices in Brock’s head.

Instead, it just reinforced how much he missed this.

Him.

Them.

Together.

——————

Jason has been a champ. Leaving them alone for a whole day, even though José knew that he wanted to drag them outside.

The weather was, for once, amazing in England, and they should enjoy it while they could.

Jason had been a Good Judy and left them alone to fuck each other into oblivion.

But even the best of Judy’s had a limit.

So you guys ready to actually go and get something to eat or are you still “catching” up? - J

Shut. Up. Jason. B don’t kno u kno. So be cool - V

He had left Brock in his room, needing some new clothes and a shower, and just a moment to go through the night on his own.

The sex had left him slightly raw, the intensity and emotion had been amazing and terrifying.

They were so good together… physically.

There were so much trust, so much love and so much care… and yet.

The moment you involved feelings and the mere idea of commitment, it would all crumble. Something happened to both of them when they were asked to deal with the idea of being monogamous.

It made Brock run away and hide, while José instead started having unreasonable expectations of his boyfriend being the personification of a Nicholas Sparks novel.

It was why they had broken up.

But the sex though…

The sex was out of this world, it had been then and it was now.

There were still feelings. Still a whole lotta love.

Yeah. But you best be silent and say nothin’… he ain’t looking good today. - V

He didn’t. When José had left the room he had looked lost and tired in a way that he never had before.

The nightmare had really shaken him.

To be honest, it had also scared José. Waking up to Brock’s scream had been terrifying, and it had taken every ounce of self-control to not go into full panic mode.

But he had managed.

Barely.

He had wanted to talk it through with him this morning, but Brock has withdrawn from him, almost cheering with relief when Jason had written, as it seemed to give him the perfect excuse to kick out José.

His phone chimed, bringing him out of his thought spiral.

Miss Vanjivanjie! Move your ass, we’re waiting for you! - J

Putting on his cap, he grabbed his fanny pack and walked out of the room.

Time to be social.

——————

It had been a long day.

They were their usual messy Branjie idiots.

Shopping, doing Instagram lives and eating amazing food.

The weather was ridiculously hot, and they were all soaked with sweat.

That didn’t stop them from going to a club.

Didn’t stop José from dancing all night long.

Didn’t stop him from cosying up with every guy in the club.

He could feel his eyes on him. The way they were tracing every inch of his body.

He could just imagine him sitting in the corner with his beer and scowling, probably not even participating in the conversation that Jason was trying to have with him.

He knew this game.

Had played it multiple times.

Smirking, he leaned closer to the tall blonde man in front of him. Seductively touching his bare chest, licking his lips suggestively.

He could almost feel the anger from across the room.

He was cute. But José had no intention of going home with him.

None.

It wasn’t about the trade looking hopefully at him but instead about the scowling blonde sitting in the corner.

He wanted to go home with that idiot.

His idiot.

“So… you wanna get out of here?” Those words would normally have made him shiver in anticipation, but the prospect of going home with the angry Canadian was way more enticing than this hopeful hunk of a man.

“Nah, bitch. I’m just waitin’ for this fine ‘tender to give me ma drink. Hoes gotta stay hydrated, ya know,” he kept on touching him, though. He needed the illusion, as it would turn Brock into a green-eyed monster that would give him exactly what he needed.

A jealous Brock had always been his favourite.

“You sure?” He looked pointedly as the hand still caressing his chest, indicating that he was giving him very mixed signals.

“Oh yeah babe, I got my eyes on the prize tonight, and Mary, we ain’t leaving ‘till I’ve got it. You see that tall blonde scowling at us? Wearing a dumbass t-shirt and ridiculous shorts?” He leaned closer still, whispering in his ear, knowing how it would look from Brock’s perspective, feeling giddy with the anticipation of the night to come.

“Yeah.”

“He my stupid idiot ex.”

“No, really?”

“Yup and imma need yo assti-asssisi… your help to make sure that he gon give me that good dick tonight,”

“I don’t think you need help, he looks ready to kill me,”

“Trust me, baby… You gon be important in helping me get what I want. Best believe. So you in?”

“You’re hot… so, why not?”

“That’s the spirit, mama!”

—————-

He was dancing. Though dry humping was probably a more apt description of what was going on.

He had lost the blonde trade a while ago, changing partners with every number, knowing that his moves were luring everybody in and not caring.

He didn’t want them.

New hands gripped his hips, and he followed them, ready to use the newcomer to accomplish his plan.

“I know what you’re doing,” the whisper sent a shiver through his body. He knew that voice well.

It was dripping with promises of long nights and pleasurable pain.

He leaned back against the arms that were circling him, slowly moving to the rhythm, wanting to turn around, but knew that the right grip would stop any attempt.

It wasn’t a part of their game.

“Oh really, Mami. And what’s that,” grinding back into Brock, feeling his arousal, grinning because that meant that he had won.

“You’re misbehaving,” one hand went underneath his barely-there tank top, and it took every ounce of self-control that José had in him, not to turn into a puddle of want on the dance floor.

He could feel the power and jealousy that was rolling of the blond. He knew he was in for a night.

“And so if I am?” He was happy that the music was loud, otherwise, the whole club would have been able to hear his whiny moans.

“Well,” the world was whispered right next to his ear, the warmth of his breath, adding to the need that José felt all over, “I guess I’ll have to punish you, then.”

His teeth softly grazed his ear, making a broken moan escape José’s lips, his eyes closing and body shivering in anticipation…

He was ready to turn around, get on his knees and just suck him off right then and there. Not a single care about the people in the club.

He loved it when Brooke got like this. When he was exuding dominance.

“What are you gonna do, boo?” The arms around him tightened for a second and then they were gone.

The loss of touch happened so quickly that it took José a moment to gather his wits and turn around, preparing himself to meet the steely gaze of a jealous Brock.

Instead, what he found was a crowd of dancing club goers.

Brock not anywhere in sight.

He had left.

That. Fucker.

[just-another-winchester]

Spooky Supernatural Halloween Challenge

Welcome Ghouls and Goblins! To the Spooky Supernatural Halloween Challenge!

Is it still only the beginning of September? Yes! Does it seem a bit early for a Halloween Challenge? Not at all!

I wanna give you guys plenty of time to write, while also giving myself plenty of time. So Here’s the deal my dear participants…

You can do whatever! Pick your favorite horror movie and use that as inspiration! Got a song that makes ya feel spooky? Use that!

I dunno about you, but since It’s Halloween, this is obviously going to be angsty!

Or! You can be my fluffy pal and go for a trick or treat story!

Whatever floats your boat of course.

Beneath I have my rules and the basic happenings of this challenge! I hope you all participate in one way or another! Stay scary!

Rules and Regulations!

You do not have to follow me to join.

While this is an effort to get interactive with more of you, I do not want to force you into following me just to do something. I love the follow and I would totally appreciate, but, it is not a requirement.

2. This will be for Dean, Sam, Cas and Jack. It doesn’t have to be a pairing but those are the characters cause, I mean… it’s Supernatural, and Halloween… but I wouldn’t be opposed if you wanted to mix in the actors as the halloween plot.

3. Try and keep this to a one shot or drabble, sky is the limit with max but I would like at least 500 words pretty please!

4. Don’t forget to tag me!! In the A/N or wherever, just make sure you tag so I can read your beautiful Halloween stories! In the tags make sure to tag it K’s SSHC or Kayla’s Supernatural Spook Challenge!

5. You wanna join, you gotta ask, as in, ASK. The link it literally in the word. Cause that’s the way uh huh uh huh I like it!

6. If you are doing a pairing please remember to make it x reader and tell me who you are writing for, if you are not, please specify that you are not doing a pairing.

7. I have to wrack my brain to figure out what I can do for my NON writers out there, and so therefore, if you don’t wanna write, make me an aesthetic. Or I can pair you with someone who is writing and you can make the aesthetic for their story.

If you don’t wanna make an aesthetic, send in a Halloween prompt, I will either add it to the list or try and write it myself!

I have to level with ya’ll for a sec. I know I screwed up my 500 follower challenge and I’m really sorry about that, I shouldn’t have done it in the first place, I was so exhausted and discouraged that I didn’t spend a lot of time on Tumblr, but I am going to MAKE SURE I see what you guys do this time around, I don’t care if you have to come to my house and smack me with a laptop, show me what you’ve done on behalf of this challenge.

If you guys don’t totally know what you want to write, ask me for some candy. I will send you a prompt or plot.

As you may have guessed, due date is indeed October 31st.

Prompts

1. Trick Or Treat @pheonyxstorm

2. Handing Out Candy @supernatural-jackles

3. Halloween Party

4. Monsters In The Closet @queen-of-deans-booty

5. Monsters under the bed  @thisgingerlikescoffee

6. Haunted House

7. Body In the forest

8. Living Nightmare @just-another-busy-fangirl

9. Mr Magoos got some splaining to do - credit to @seenashwrite

10. What the hell is he fertalizing with? - credit to @seenashwrite

Plots

Stuck in your favorite horror movie

You’re trapped in the movie you’ve watched a hundred times over. Do you know it well enough to get out?   @justanotherwriter-fangirl

2. Never follow a Black Cat.

You’ve heard bad luck with black cats, but you didn’t expect this to happen.

3. That’s Not A Costume

You’re talking to a friend when you realize, it’s not actually them  @waywardnerd67​

4. Make a Monster

You were just telling a story, you had no idea this would come of it.

5. Halloween Snowfall

You were excited and getting ready for Halloween when you look outside and see snow on the ground. Going to check the weather on your phone you see the date reads December 25th

6. The Pumpkin Carver - Credited to @seenashwrite

Every year you carve pumpkins for Halloween. Until they decided to give you a taste of your own medicine

Gonna tag some people for a boost!

@impala-dreamer @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @because-imma-lady-assface @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @just-another-busy-fangirl  @squirrel-moose-winchester @supernatural-jackles @wi-deangirl77 @cass-trash @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @amanda-teaches @percywinchester27

[rosebloodcat]

Harry and the Ink Demon: Chapter 1- Beginning

Harry loosely sketched in a small, blank book in the back of his cab, the tip of his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. Flying to the states hadn’t been easy, what with him having having such a “respectable” standing in the Wizarding world since the end of the war, but he was going to follow through on his plan for his future. Expectations be damned.

“So, where you from Mac?” Harry jolted, his concentration broken unexpectedly by the Cabbie. The Cabbie was an older bloke, probably in his sixties or possibly his seventies, with silver hair that peeked out from under his cap and small rectangle glasses on his nose. He had the kind of wrinkles that showed he spent a lot of time smiling, which matched his friendly demeanor perfectly. Harry gave a sheepish smile, having been drawing a sketch of the man in his book.

“Little Whinging, over in Surrey, England. And the name’s Harry, mate. Don’t know anyone by the name of "Mac”, unless you’re talking about the car.” The cabbie grinned back at him through the rearview mirror. An expression which fit the man, in Harry’s humble opinion.

"Really? You look more like a ‘Henry’ to me. What brings an English gentleman like you to the states?” Harry chuckled at the man’s pleasant tone, unbothered by the friendly jab. He’d heard it quite a few times since his arrival in America. It was a rather amusing social view.

“You want the short version, or the full list?” The cabbie laughed at his snarky response. Harry was mostly trying to figure just what he could say to the man while still keeping the conversation casual. He couldn’t exactly tell the man he was a war hero looking to avoid being drawn into magical politics.

“Gimme the short version, won’t be much longer till we reach your stop.”

“I needed to get out of my family’s shadow, especially with my… Career of interest being what it is.”

“Oh, and what would that be?”

“I- well, my family’s always been in law enforcement, police, lawyers, that kind of thing. But I- uh, I’m more interested in animation and cartoons.” There, not a lie, but not the whole truth. The Potter’s were actually famous for their involvement in magical law enforcement, so that wasn’t much of stretch to come up with. It was part of the reason everyone thought he would join the Auror’s. But only part of the reason.

The man laughed.

“So you’re an Artsy fella then. 'Splains why you want to head to the old Drew Studios. I heard the place was bought up not too long ago, so you just might be the last "open public” visitor to the place.“  Harry saw the man’s smile turn a litter sadder, his expression rather reminiscent, though his hands remained steady as he drove. "A real shame, that, the new owner’ll probably tear the old place down. Replace it with one o’ them fancy hotels or something.”

“Maybe not, I suppose it’ll really depend on the condition the place is in.” The cabbie’s eyes flicked back to Harry, looking surprised.

“What makes you think that?” Harry gave him a lopsided smile.

“I don’t think it, mate, I know it. I’m the bloke who bought the place.”

“Really?” He could see the man’s face brightening, at the idea of the studio staying.

“Yep. I own all the cartoons now too. For some reason Drew thought it would be grand idea to link his rights to the characters with his rights to the land and the Studio itself. Not the brightest thing to do, in my opinion, but I’m not complaining.”  Harry pushed his glasses back up his nose, a smile curving his lips. He had no intention of tearing the building down, not unless he didn’t have a choice. He had a very different plan than putting up a hotel. “I want to start up the 'Bendy’ cartoons again, turn the place back into a full-on animation studio.”

The cabbie let out a bark of disbelieving laughter, but there was no denying the delight in the man’s expression.

“Wow, mac, that’s one hechova goal you’re aiming for.” His smile turned nostalgic. Ah, he must’ve been a long-time fan of the 'Bendy’ cartoons. “Hope you manage it. I remember going with my dad to the theater to watch that show as a kid. Some of the best memories I have of back then, what with the war goin’ on. I’d love to be able to share them with my grand kids.”

“That makes two of us mate. Though, don’t expect a sudden turn out. Fixin’ up an entire studio isn’t an easy task.” He sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I need to check the condition of the building, find out if any of the equipment is salvageable, possibly hire a construction crew, maybe an interior design crew, get a work force to actually run the studio…” He ticked off his fingers with a sigh. So much work to do, but he was going to do his damnedest to make it happen.

“With how much the locals still love that old cartoon, I bet you could run the whole thing offa donations and volunteer work!” The cabbie said with a chuckle.  Harry let out a thoughtful hum.

“I’ll have to think about that mate, first I gotta find out what I need done for the place.” He glanced out the car window at the darkening streets. Maybe he should have left earlier in the day to do his inspection. Night was approaching faster than he thought it would, though that could have been the cloudy sky playing tricks on his eyes. It was a good thing he’d decided to wear his rain coat that evening. It had been threatening a storm for the past few days, but now it really looked like it was going to happen. He slipped his sketchbook back into his magically expanded satchel, pulling out his wallet to pay for the ride as the car slowed down.

“Welp, here we are! Joey Drew Studios, home of 'Bendy the Devil Darling’ himself!” The cabbie hesitated for a moment, turning to Harry with a somewhat meek smile on his face. “Hey, can I get your name? I- uh, kinda wanna tell some of the folks I know about what you’re doing. And publicity’s always helpful for new ventures, right?”

“Potter, Harry Potter. I got a couple ideas for the new studio’s name, but I haven’t settled on one yet.” The man chuckled, accepting the payment the young man handed him.

“I’ll keep an eye out for you in the papers, best of luck to you.”

“Thanks mate, I may need it.” Harry waved as the cab drove off, leaving Harry in front of his new “business venture”. He drew in and steadying breath, and turned to face the old studio. And cringed at the sight of it.

Joey Drew Studios was… Even more run-down and decrepit than Harry had been led to believe.

Even before it had been a studio, the old building had been a mill of some kind, meaning it had thick walls, a sturdy foundation and lots of floors to be filled with people and equipment. Based on the floor plans Harry had seen, the main building was filled with cramped, crisscrossing hallways, scattered rooms of varying sizes and ventilation, and large bay windows that would have let in a wonderful amount of sunshine during the days. It wasn’t a conventional building for an animation studio, but it obviously worked none the less.

Now, however, many of the once beautiful windows were either broken or boarded up or both preventing even the smallest amount of light inside the old building, the sturdy wood and plaster walls were covered in unidentifiable stains and graphity that had been accumulated throughout the years of disuse, the metal fire escape and rain spouts (along with every other piece of metal that had been left exposed to the elements) were so thoroughly covered in accumulated rust, it was a wonder they hadn’t just disintegrated by now. It was painfully obvious that they would need immediate replacement. The old building looked somewhere between haunted and condemned.

But he wasn’t going to back now. Not when he’d already come this far. From what Harry had managed to dig up before coming in person, it had taken years before Joey Drew had lost finally his rights to the studio. According to the accountants and Real-estate workers, there had been a sizable backlog of letter, inquires, old bills, and legal notices that had never reached Drew himself. They had apparently just built up in the post office until finally someone dragged themselves to his residence and found he wasn’t there anymore. And that wasn’t the weird part.

Apparently, back in the early Sixties, Drew had made some… Questionable business and construction discussions. Many of which hadn’t made any sense then, and even less in the modern day. Especially since he had filed for bankruptcy part way through his strange construction and ordering spree. Large orders of piping, wood, various building and construction equipment, gallons of rubber ink (enough to fill an Olympic swimming pool), multiple fire axes, random reels that were actually too big to fit in projectors, a large number of stone bowls, a couple knives, and enough candles to light a small stadium.

The last few reminded Harry of ritual supplies, but that could have been his paranoia talking. Even if he was doing rituals, his access to the proper texts would have been limited at best as Drew had been a muggle. (Merlin, he hoped the man hadn’t gotten any real books of magic. That would be so much paperwork for him)

In the mid Seventies, the entire studio collapsed. But not under normal circumstances. The entire cast and crew of Joey Drew Studios had just vanished. Almost over night.

The police had, of coarse, gone out to investigate, but found no signs of foul play. Just a particularly odd machine down one corridor that, as far as they could tell, had no tie to the disappearing employees. Not that they had been able to do a full investigation. Large parts of the building had been made inaccessible due to the halls being locked down, boarded up, and generally being difficult to get too. It was eventually deemed a cold case, and left where it was.

Harry was far more wary of the circumstances, he knew better than to underestimate a muggle. If they had managed to create a weapon that could wipe out entire cities, then the chances that they could find a way to use magic wasn’t completely improbable. But without proof of magic being used, the local ministry never investigated. (MASUCA, was the name, if he remembered correctly)

Even then things had been fairly quiet from the studio. There had been plenty of rumors circulating amongst the local youths of the era, claiming that the old studio was haunted. Strange voices from the lower floors, creepy images, and moving cutouts. The kind of “spooky” stories kids would tell each other to make their adventures sound more “Grown-up” instead of them just messing around in some place they shouldn’t have been. Though nothing had happened since the crews’ disappearance, Harry didn’t trust that stay true forever.

Which was why he was there. He was going to give the building a thorough inspection himself, and search it from top to bottom for any Dark magic. He refused to bring anyone into a potentially dangerous place without making sure they couldn’t be hurt by whatever was inside.

The front of the building had a set of large, glass, double doors that had once opened to the building’s lobby but, like the windows, they had been boarded up. They didn’t look as though anyone had tried to pry them open, much to Harry’s relief and ire. He knew that the children had been breaking into the old studio for years, but it looked like they hadn’t tried to go in through the front doors.

“Okay, not the front doors. Let’s try the loading doors then.” The studio had it’s own toy shipping area, and chances were the rust would have made it easier to get the old doors open. Teens weren’t always the most… Graceful when they wanted to force their way into a place. Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if one of them had broken the rusted doors open just so they could get inside. Harry made his way around the outside of the building, idly examining the paintings on the walls as he went.

Not as much crudeness as I expected, He thought to himself, eyeing the rusted doors. Nothing a quick paint job couldn’t clean up. Outside looks to be in pretty good shape, I have to admit. But it’s the inside that I’m worried about.

The old doors were in surprisingly good shape. Oh, they were rusted to the point of uselessness, but there were no holes or signs of forced entry. Harry quietly approached the locked door, bending closer to examine the old, undoubtedly broken lock.

Now, the question is, is it forever open? Or forever closed? Harry clasped the handle, giving it a firm tug. It rattled in a way that implied it wasn’t rusted in place, yet it was obviously locked. Odd, it seemed in strangely good condition. He frowned thoughtfully. But how have the kids been getting in? Is there a side door that they could have used?

Deciding to check it out, Harry made his way over to the alley between the studio and the building next too it. The alley was strewn with trash, blatantly ignoring the dumpster bin sitting two thirds of the way into the alley. A dumpster that was sitting next to a door into the studio. Harry grinned triumphantly at the door.

Harry quickly approached, noting that the door was partially open.

Shoot, had someone already come in? He hoped not. Harry really didn’t really feel like chasing some kid or haughty teenager out of the studio. Even if it was for their own good.

Opening the door the rest of the way, Harry peered into the gloomy hall. Barely lit by old flickering light bulbs, he couldn’t see anything beyond a few flickering lights further inside.

“Hello? Anyone here?” He called, stepping inside and habitually pulling the door closed behind him. There were some posters hanging on the walls, depicting the little devil darling that the studio was best known for grinning out at him, looking far too cheerful in the gloom. A few paces in, Harry felt his blood freeze at the sudden, ominous creaking that came from the wooden floor beneath him. Slowly, he crept over to the nearest wall, pressing himself against it. The creaking lessened. The wizard let out a shaky breath. “O-okay, note to self: side door floor needs immediate replacement, that did not sound safe. Thank Merlin it didn’t give out under me.”

Bloody stars, if I died from something as mundane as FALLING, Hermy would have resurrected me for the sole-purpose of killing me for doing something so stupid. He smiled slightly at the mental image of Hermione raging at him over such a dumb thing. Harry inched down the hall, listening for when the creaking faded away. He may have been a wizard and a war hero, but he wasn’t immortal. It was better to not risk his neck in the first place. Harry let out a sigh of relief when the creaking finally stopped once he’d reached the end of the hallway. It opened up into a fairly large room, almost like an employee lobby.

The place was covered in old papers, with a counter between two of the supporting beams. An old projector was turned on, creating an eerie tune as it flickered back and forth between some blank reams on an old film reel. A cutout of the company’s mascot, the Devil Darling’ himself, stood next to the empty projection, looking rather creepy in the eerie setting. Three large reels were mounted on the wall, spinning in a loud, clunky manner, yet not actually doing anything (as far as Harry could tell). A light table by the back wall sat next too an old drawing desk, still alight and drawing power from an unknown source (The power had been turned off, that much Harry knew).

“Well, let’s get started then.”

-

-

So, HUGE word dump here, but once I got stared writing for this, it kinda ran away with me. If enough people say they like this, I might post more. And feel free to send me questions about it. They help me figure out what the hell I’m doing!

Also my italics didn’t work and I am NOT happy about that.

[zane-foster]

Zane & Jude → Texts  (2:42 AM)

Zane: Hate me?

Jude: I thought you hated me?

Zane: Ugh, no I don't. I'm just an ass.

Jude: You freaked out on me and I don't know why..

Zane: I know I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled, and I knew that you were upset. He just gets under my skin and it just all was too much.

Jude: That's so not what I'm talking about. I know you hate the guy. You ditched me in the middle of a song. Why?

Zane: Wait seriously? THAT'S what you're upset about?

Jude: Well I'm upset about you yelling at me too. But at least I KNOW why you did. I don't know why you left though, so Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do.

Zane: You want the whole truth or?

Zane: Cuz I feel weird about it

Jude: Yes. I feel so crappy about it. Like I did something wrong.

Zane: J, I was an inch away from wanting to take you home with me.

Jude: What. Why.

Zane: You were drunk and grinding your ass on my dick. Getting all up in my face and biting your damn lip

Jude: I'm sorry. I thought we were just having a little bit of fun. I didn't mean to... you know.

Jude: I'm sorry.

Zane: Lol was I alone in that feeling or

Jude: No, not exactly.

Jude: haha

Zane: So do you understand now why I had to get the fuck outta there?

Jude: Yeah. But you could have told me to stop or not turn me around.

Jude: I did get carried away though.

Zane: Since when am I good at handling tense situations?

Jude: Well they don't have to be tense with me. I'm your best friend.

Zane: I'm sorry dude I just don't wanna fuck it all up by doing something I can't take back

Zane: Instant karma at its finest the second I walked out the door

Jude: I'm sorry too about Link. I don't know what he said to you but I imagine it sucked.

Jude: I didn't go home with him.

Zane: Ahh yeah I don't wanna talk about it

Zane: Glad you got home safe though

Jude: Okay.

Jude: Thanks. I just wanted you to know.

Zane: Are you okay though?

Jude: No lol

Zane: Gonna be up for a bit still?

Jude: Yeah I made a pot of coffee to sober up and stop crying.

Zane: I'm gonna go out for a ride on my board but I can stop over?

Jude: Yeah I'll unlock the porch for you.

[nv-rivera]

Interview with Grammar Guy Curtis Honeycutt

Newspaper columnist Curtis “Grammar Guy” Honeycutt is releasing a brand new book Good Grammar is the Life of the Party this week. Nicole asks Curtis about where his love of grammar began, how he became a newspaper columnist, how he juggles family life and writing, and more. 

  Mentioned in this episode:

  Good Grammar is the Life of the Party by Curtis Honeycutt https://www.curtishoneycutt.com/shop/good-grammar-is-the-life-of-the-party-paperback-book-local-pickup-and-delivery-only 

  Curtis Honeycutt - Writer Facebook Page https://www.facebook.com/curtishoneycuttwriter/ 

Curtis Honeycutt website https://www.curtishoneycutt.com/about

Curtis Honeycutt Twitter https://twitter.com/curtishoneycutt

Curtis Honeycutt Instagram https://www.instagram.com/curtishoneycutt/ 

Have a grammar question for Curtis? Email him at curtis@curtishoneycutt.com 

Grammar Guy Column https://www.circlevilleherald.com/comment/columns/grammar-guy-you-ve-got-some-splaining-to-do/article_7d5d8ebc-a287-5b51-a439-cdb30fbece9c.html 

The Current http://youarecurrent.com/category/lifestyle/grammar-guy/ 

Google Chrome add-on MAIL MERGE https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/mailmerge/mggdhgcgaoccapnpmfmpinepbpgglpfo?hl=en-US 

Mental Floss article about spaces https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/623634/microsoft-flag-two-spaces-

National Society of Newspaper Columnists https://www.columnists.com/

Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop http://humorwriters.org/ 

books and brews https://www.booksnbrews.com/ 

Out of Print https://outofprint.com/ 

Frostbeard Studios https://www.frostbeardstudio.com/collections/book-lovers-soy-candles 

NV Rivera YouTube Channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpPlp1EVzQhDFPdGp5w2KoQ?view_as=subscriber 

Stay connected to learn about all Stop Writing Alone stuff -- get on Nicole’s email list: https://mailchi.mp/ff8df93e57dc/penpals 

Buy Nicole a coffee (AKA support the podcast!) https://ko-fi.com/stopwritingalone

  Places to connect to the STOP WRITING ALONE community and introduce yourself:

Stop Writing Alone FB Page: https://www.facebook.com/stopwritingalone/

Join the Stop Writing Alone with Nicole Rivera FB Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/2205774733034348/

Stop Writing Alone website: https://stopwritingalone.com/

Join the Stop Writing Alone email list: https://mailchi.mp/ff8df93e57dc/penpals 

Stop Writing Alone Instagram account https://www.instagram.com/stopwritingalone/ 

Nicole’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/nv_rivera 

The Stop Writing Alone voice number (call to introduce yourself!): (646) 907-9607 

  When you find a group of people who lift you up on a daily basis, it is important to share their awesome. Here are links to the women in Nicole’s Mastermind group (currently going by the name The Voxer Vixens!). Please support these women who do so much to support Nicole on a daily basis!

Kim A. Flodin https://www.howinthehellpodcast.com/

Lisa Murray https://ihavedreamsdammit.com/

Claire Oldham West https://slimmingstories.podbean.com/

Johanna Jaquez-Peralta https://www.instagram.com/latina_livin_keto/

Emma Isaacs https://www.instagram.com/emmaisaacsdesign/ 

Check out this episode!