Omg do u take requests? I had a few for sasuke! Oh n may u have a great day/night <3

I do!

Requests stay open 24/7 365. If you ever make a request and see it hasn't been answered in a hot minute resend it. For whatever reason Tumblr no longer sends me emails when I get asks so I have to go scrolling through my ask box to see anything sent to me.

It really sucks because now I get the thing where my inbox deletes stuff and I never see anything.

marigold promises

— 36. don't be a stranger

— previous || masterlist || next

summary: you and albedo have finally reached a mutual understanding as your first year of college comes to a close. with a new school year comes a new beginning, and you start off strong with albedo asking you the oddest of arrangements: "would you like to be lab partners?"

author's notes:

ganyu knows yae and kokomi through club business, since a lot of the things a club does have to go through the approval of the student council and the admins

every day, yanfei's screenshot album evidence folder grows

featured song: New Year's Day by Taylor Swift

taglist (i):

@fvkkyu @mintreen @edreee @khyllynnn @xxmirrorballxx @aiikalvr @yaefics @unsterblich-prinz @aequha @alch3myy @lovely-althxa @nei-rinn @cridtiins @zestrya @skylions-den @moriiartt @theother-victoria @sunsethw4 @dazaisfavgf @serossidechick @koiir @lazy-sanns @sweetbunnybunbun @dee-zbignuts @redactedhimbo @yurstepm0m @fanfictwarrior @atlaszi @saoiirsee @ireallylikehamsters @kissingkzuha @whosxangel @kitsuvil @orionicchaos @blurr3db3rry @semi-orangeapple @kunikuzushiit @atlatcaheart @wrrapedroundmyfingerlikearing @scarafrisbee @lost-wicked-artist @kairxse @elysiasbae @eurekatanya @empathum @tatiratty @zannivrs @mikismusings @sunoo-bby @astolary

— the taglist is currently CLOSED! shoot me an ask or a reply if you've changed your url or you'd like to be removed.

Earlier this month, while the rest of the country was celebrating the achievements of civil rights leader Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., parents and children in the “Dissident Homeschool” network opened a lesson plan and were greeted with the words: “As Adolf Hitler wrote…”

The contents of the MLK lesson plan would be shocking for almost anyone, but for members of the 2,400-member “Dissident Homeschool” Telegram channel, this was a regular Monday at school.

“It is up to us to ensure our children know him for the deceitful, dishonest, riot-inciting negro he actually was,” the administrator of the network’s Telegram channel wrote, alongside a downloadable lesson plan for elementary school children. “He is the face of a movement which ethnically cleansed whites out of urban areas and precipitated the anti-white regime that we are now fighting to free ourselves from.”

Since the group began in October 2021 it has openly embraced Nazi ideology and promoted white supremacy, while proudly discouraging parents from letting their white children play with or have any contact with people of any other race. Admins and members use racist, homophobic, and antisemitic slurs without shame, and quote Hitler and other Nazi leaders daily in a channel open to the public.

VICE News joined the group simply by clicking on a link, though the list of members was not publicly visible.

What’s even more disturbing, however, is that the couple who run the channel are not only teaching parents how to indoctrinate their children into this fascist ideology, they’re also encouraging them to meet up in real life and join even more radical groups, which could further reinforce their beliefs and potentially push them toward violent action.

‘MR. AND MRS. SAXON’

The “Dissident Homeschool” network is run by a husband and wife team who use the aliases “Mr. and Mrs. Saxon.” This week the antifascist research group Anonymous Comrades Collective published a detailed report that unmasked the Saxons as Logan and Katja Lawrence, who live in Upper Sandusky, Ohio, with their four young children.

The researchers were able to identify the Lawrences through biographical details they shared in the Telegram channel’s group chat and on podcast appearances. One of the key clues to identifying them came when they revealed that they owned a German Shepherd called Blondi—the same name as Hitler’s dog.

The researchers found photos that Katja posted on Facebook with her German Shepherd, and were also able to confirm Katja Lawrence’s ownership of this dog through the Wyandot County dog licensing website dog search feature.

The Lawrences did not respond to multiple emails, text messages, social media messages, and phone calls from VICE News to discuss the contents of the report and their neo-Nazi homeschooling group.

Katja Lawrence, who is in her mid-30s, launched the channel in October 2021, because she “was having a rough time finding Nazi-approved school material for [her] homeschool children,” as she told the neo-Nazi podcast “Achtung! Amerikaner” last year.

Later in the same podcast episode, Lawrence expanded on her view on why she wanted to educate her children at home. “We have our children’s best interest at heart and nobody can do a better job than we can because it’s our child. We are so deeply invested into making sure that that child becomes a wonderful Nazi,” she said.

When VICE News asked for comment on the Lawrences and their channel, the host of the podcast, Gordon Hahl, replied: “I think you should kill yourself instead.”

Katja Lawrence, born Katja van den Berg, is originally from the Netherlands and moved to the U.S. after meeting her husband at the Oktoberfest festival in Berlin, according to an old LiveJournal blog uncovered by the researchers. She became a naturalized U.S. citizen in 2017.

Logan Lawrence works as an agent for a local, family-run insurance agency. When reached by phone, an employee at the company told VICE News that they would not be commenting on the story.

Logan is also a member of a local Masonic lodge and features in a number of pictures on its website, where he is listed as an officer of the lodge. The secretary of the lodge did not respond to VICE News’ request for comment.

Both Katja and Lawrence have a limited presence on mainstream social media platforms, and the one Facebook account that was operated by Katja was deleted this week after the Anonymous Comrades Collective report was published.

Katja Lawrence is the main poster on the “Dissident Homeschool” channel, posting classroom schedules, book lists, lesson plans, and other educational resources for like-minded parents.

RACIST LESSON PLANS

Lawrence uses every lesson plan as an opportunity to push racist ideology. In one “math assignment,” children were asked to interpret “crime statistics,” the goal of which was to “realize the demographics to be cautious around.” Another lesson called “IQ Unit Study” discusses IQ scores. “The blacks—on average—have a much lower IQ than whites,” Lawrence wrote.

Last week the group chat channel belonging to the “Dissident Homeschool” network was shut down, but VICE News has reviewed an archive of the chats dating back to October 2021, showing that initially the channel was populated by a small number of core members who contributed most of the comments and content.

However, by the time the chat archive ended on Jan. 4, there were hundreds more people contributing to the conversations, and discussions had expanded from children’s education to the dangers of diversity and how “Indiana Jones” movies are nothing more than “Jewish revenge porn.”

One parent posting in the group last year thanked the Lawrences for their work and explained why they agreed that public school education was not for them.

“This is why I want to make the switch. I don’t even want my kids exposed to the gay loving, anti-family, Jew factory that is public school, I can’t stand it.”

Other parents offered their own educational resources, with one member writing: “Here is an overview of 10 Reason why Hitler was one of the Good Guys:”

When one parent named Nancy recommended three preachers that the group might find interesting, another member responded: “A ni**er, a race mixer, and a guy who literally says that Israel should rule the world. You're 0 for 3.”

Katja Lawrence then added: “Nancy, did you know you are in a chat of dissidents who fully support white nationalism? We do not support Israel and do not listen to black preachers.”

The members of the channel have also expanded beyond the U.S. to include members from other countries, though only those from European countries with acceptable ethnicity, such as Norway, Germany, and the U.K., are welcomed.

At one point in the chat, Katja Lawrence told a UK-based member of the group that she would help put him in touch with the head of one of the biggest white nationalist groups in the U.K., suggesting the Lawrences have made connections with antisemites and white supremacists outside of their own homeschooling community.

BAKING A ‘FÜHRER CAKE’

When the Telegram channel reached its 1,000th subscriber, just months after it launched, Katja Lawrence posted a picture of German schoolchildren performing a Nazi salute in a classroom, writing: “It fills my heart with joy to know there is such a strong base of homeschoolers and homeschool-interested national socialists. Hail Victory.”

The Lawrences also described how their family celebrated Hitler’s birthday by baking a “Führer cake.”

“We had a lovely dinner followed by Führerkuchen,” Katja Lawrence wrote. “Our children celebrated Adolf’s birthday today by learning about Germany and eating favorite German foods.” She later added that she had baked “quite a few swastika items, my latest a swastika apple pie.”

In one chilling, now-deleted post on Telegram, Katla Lawrence posted an audio message of her children shouting “sieg heil.”

While Katja and Logan Lawrence claim in Telegram comments that they warn their children not to discuss their Nazi views with those outside the family, they also don’t limit their activities to the online world and help others to connect with fellow white nationalists in the real world.

SECRET ‘POOL PARTIES’

“There is a huge network of people like us,” Katja wrote on the Telegram channel. “If you are asking what you can do: get vetted and join a local pool party. I would say that’s the best decision Mr. Saxon and I made last year. We joined a pool party and our children now play with other white children where they can speak and play freely.”

A “pool party” is the name for a secretive meetup organized by white supremacist group The Right Stuff and its political wing the National Justice Party. Katja Lawrence even goes so far as to share the direct email for a contact at The Right Stuff who deals with vetting, while an account named the “National Justice Party” posts updates that include calls for “Dissident Homeschool” members to join its supporter group and updates on its Christmas charity drive.

“It has been huge for us to get into that real life network. Contribute by joining. It makes all the difference,” Katja Lawrence wrote.

It is hard to gauge the influence of the “Dissident Homeschool Network,” but in leaked emails from people attempting to join the white nationalist group Patriot Front, applicants list the “Dissident Homeschool” as being “Influential figures, media outlets or platforms.”

The Right Stuff and the National Justice League were described by the Anti-Defamation League as “virulently antisemitic”, while 31 members of Patriot Front were arrested last year inside a U-haul truck on their way to an LGBTQ Pride event in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, carrying shields and smoke grenades.

Yet Katja attempts to describe these group’s activities as entirely wholesome.

“To dispel some misconceptions: these groups do not encourage or solicit people to commit illegal activities,” Katja wrote. "It is a nice group of wholesome white people getting together for cookouts and such.”

Como mandar una confesión, responder + reglas

(traducción al español @lobotomycase )

Aun me preguntan como mandar una confesión. No es de sentirse avergonzados. Nunca lo expliqué en el frente del blog o dónde fuera obvio de ver. Como una Publicación fijada.

Es bastante simple.

Pueden ocupar el inbox. (Donde dice "Ask me anything")

Pueden mandar un Mensaje. Tengan en mente que yo sabré quienes son, pero nadie más. Solo en caso que quieran mantenerse anónimos conmigo también.

Hay una opción de "Submit a post" (Colaboraciones) también. Nadia la ha usado aun, pero si quieren, esta ahí. De ser honestos, nunca que he recibido un Submit post. Pero sí se que el Admin puede decidir si lo publica. Pueden estar en anónimo, no lo sé?

Para como escribir su confesión. Solo escriban lo que quieran. Manden la confesión como si me estuvieran hablando directamente a mi. Solo que en vez de que yo responda, lo publico en un blog público para que todos lo vean y juzguen.

Todas las confesiones son anónimas, aunque se olviden/decidan no esconder el usuario.

Como responder a una publicación

Primero, unas cuantas reglas:

Por favor den el link a la confesión a la que estan respondiendo. (o al menos digan cual confesión es)

La opción de responder es para dar una opinión (de acuerdo/en desacuerdo) sin que tengan que sean acosados en sus blogs personales

No es para que puedan acosar a otros anonónimamente.

Pueden ser groseros. No pueden ocupar lenguaje ofensivo (slurs) y otro comportamiento similar

Si tienen un comentatrio simple que no aporta mucho, por favor usen las notas directamente en la confesión. La opción de responder es para comentarios más elaborados. Simplemente decir “Estoy de acuerdo/en desacuerdo”, “te equivocas anon”, etc. no va a ser publicado.

No se desvíen del tema de la confesión. Respuestas que no tengan nada que ver o aquellas que acusan a OP (quien mando la confesión original) de ser un anti por su otp, cuando nunca lo mencionaron. (Ej. Un confesión anti NH debe ser pro NS o un anti SS debe ser pro SK). Tal vez pueda ser cierto, pero si no tiene nada que ver con la confesión, no lo incluyan en su respuesta.

Esto incluye hipocresía. Si una confesión, por ejemplo, es anti NS con Sakura pegandole a Naruto, no respondan con “y que hay sobre SS o SuiKai?” (pero sí pueden escribir eso en las notas)

Sí pueden basar una confesión en otro previa o en alguna respuesta a ellas.

Por favor traten de no repetir lo que ya dijeron los demás. Solo respuestas nuevas van a ser publicadas.

Si estan teniendo un debate- esta bien. Pero si no esta llegando a ningún lado, van a tener que dejarlo

No comenten sobre las morales de la gente. No acusen a nadie de apoyar una relación tóxica. No cuestionen su estado mental. Pueden atacar el ship, pero no a la persona.

En las notas pueden respondar todas las veces que quieran.

Si no quieren ver respuestas y solo quieren ver confesiones, filtren el “#nsc replies” para ships y “#ngo replies” para temas generales.

Como responder en las notas

Hagan click en “notas” o la burbuja. Escriban su mensaje donde dice “Aquí es donde van las palabras”

Responder en las notas (directamente en el post/confesión) = No es necesario ser detallado/más eloquente en su respuesta. Pueden responder con un simple “Estoy de acuerdo”, “lol”, “obviamente son un anti/pro X”, etc.

Respuestas en el Inbox/Mensaje = Tiene que ser una respuesta más detallada. No estan de acuerdo. Digan por que.

Reglas/Información adicional

Confesiones controversiales ya no estan escondidas después de “seguir leyendo”. Ahora tienen un tw tag

Confesiones controversiales ahora también estan en el tag de su respectivo ship y los nombres de los personajes.

Voy a estar leyendo las notas. Y los tags. Si alguien cuestiona las morales de alguien por sus preferencias de ships van a tener una advertencia. Si ocupan lenguaje ofensivo, les dicen que se suiciden, o que merecen que les pase algo malo, van a ser bloqueados.

¿Es eso todo? Probablemente me olvidé de algo

Right of Bang

a post-Fives fic, feat. Commander Fox’s insecurities

1000 words | Teen | Ao3 . . .

Army admin had a funny sense of timing.

Fox frowned at the blasters, racked and ready for his use, and swore he heard ARC-5555 laugh as he marched beyond the grave.

“Ready to begin, sir?” Corporal June asked, in a plummy Timira City accent that hadn’t had its diction scuffed up. Smooth as his armor — and his just-dropped balls.

“Yes,” Fox replied, congenially as he could.

June cleared his throat. “Take control of one of the weapons, none of which have been under your direct supervision.”

Get back in that turret, trooper. Fox selected the pistol. If he was going to flunk out thanks to a box-ticking joke, better not make it the punch line.

Without being certified current in weapons handling, Jango himself would’ve found the armory doors closed upon him. Didn’t matter that they’d been fondling blasters since decant. Toy and training, of every make and model; one mind, any weapon and all that kark. Every year, twice a year, you had to demonstrate you were capable of operating the damn things.

And, now, there was at least one officer in the GAR who insisted Fox couldn’t.

Measuring his breaths behind his helmet, Fox conspicuously determined the weapon condition for June’s benefit. Chamber clear. Slide forward. Clip empty. No residual energy. Safety on. Still plenty deadly if someone wanted to try and make Fox’s day.

“Load!” June ordered, his voice not quite filling the corners of the range.

Fox unscrewed the chamber and wondered who was feeling more insecure.

The corporal being evaluated on evaluating Rear-Marshal Commander Fox.

Or the commander who’d lied on his last contact report.

The clone who’d flicked from stun to full power without blinking. Without thinking. Who’d put a lethal blast in a brother’s heart and had to convince himself he’d meant to.

And who hadn’t fired a shot since.

Hells, Riyo had probably handled his pistols more since he’d holstered them with hands that threatened to shake. Thoughtless woman. Refused a blaster or instruction, but apparently sashayed around with his in her robe while Fox slept because she was scared.

Slotting the clip, Fox made a mental note to review the overwatch outside her house.

Then he waited, a current of panic tickling his neck.

“Make stun ready!”

Fox went through the motions, deliberately. Safety off. Slide cocked. Stun engaged. Low-ready assumed.

Downrange, about twenty meters at its deepest, the target arc whirred to life. And the featureless holo of a humanoid, rendered by white lasers, flickered before the superconductive backstop.

Fox blinked.

It was random. The targets would cycle through at random, he reminded himself. SBDs, B2s, a grab bag of organics, and ... this thing.

Can’t trust a Corrie. They use whitejobs for target practice.

They didn’t, actually. Not since Kamino.

But Fives manifested just the same. Redundant tattoo and all.

Only thing worse than a soundly functioning ARC was an unstable one with a fully powered weapon. Even General Skywalker had attested to the readiness of his captain’s pistol.

(“‘Cause you didn’t give him a fucking chance.”

“To do what?! Shoot one of my men? Sorry if I don’t give more of a damn. I’ve lost enough of them to the 501st recently.”)

Perversely, Fox was grateful for the furore Rex kicked up. Never was more articulate than when someone mussed his hackles. It directed his choler outwards.

Forget his failing memory. Fox stiffened over his conviction:

Fives signed his own death certificate when he unplugged his failsafe hardware, went berserk on the Chancellor, and sallied out to 79s for a fucking fix. He’d just forced Fox to date and timestamp it for him.

Waiting, Fox stared at his fingers. He demanded them to obey.

The light appeared. The order came.

Fox stunned his mark. Then the next. And every sporadic target that followed, well within the mandated time.

“Stop!” June cried. “Clear the weapon, reload, and adjust to full power.”

Again, Fox demonstrated his proficiency with infoholo staginess.

The almost-Fives reappeared. And on the order, Fox put that shot back in his chest. Just right of center.

Because Commander Fox didn’t miss. He didn’t fuck up or flinch. He fired exactly when and where he meant to. With intention.

Every target got treated to the same heartburn. Even those that Fox knew possessed more than one. He fell into this same flow with the carbine. And the rifle — fuck, he loved the long lines on that thing. Heavy-hitting. Career-ending. Powerfully conclusive with the merest caress of his finger. He field-stripped, clean-stripped, and made them all safe upon command, while the air perfumed with ions. His confidence trickled back though grooves hewn by lifelong practice and fundamental pride, until the exercise was over.

“There you go, sir,” said June, renewing Fox’s licence to kill with a few strokes on his datapad. “In date and competent with the weapons system. Like there was any doubt,” he added cheerfully. His smile bounced so artlessly from his face, Fox couldn’t do anything but catch and throw it back.

“Am I free to congratulate a new skill-at-arms instructor?” Fox addressed the observing sergeant over June’s shoulder, who confirmed that he could.

Boozy with relief, Fox thumped June’s back. “You ever heard of the Den, Corporal?”

“... Yes, sir,” June replied, uncertain. Now truly nervous before a commander known to drop guardsmen for anything, up to and including nothing.

“When this damn lockdown’s lifted, I expect to see you there.” Fox tapped a code into the corporal’s compad. “Locate Lieutenant Rhys in a timely fashion, present that code, and he’ll add you to the guest list.”

June’s smile went positively nuclear. “Thank you, sir.” He clipped to attention, gave a salute to slice ice, and about-assed from the range.

You did right, son.

Fox wasn’t a danger to anyone. Every room was safer for him being there. Including that goddamn warehouse.

Rex would thank him, later. When that baby Senator Amidala was carrying had a father. And when Rex got to hold something he’d never get himself.

. . . . . 

(Ao3)

Guidelines & Master Lists

Please understand that this is a hobby writing blog that I do on top of life projects, exercising several horses throughout the week, and my job. Updates will be slow, but I will never ever discontinue a fic/story.

Ask replies are under 'admin den reply' for those that want to filter them out.

Links:

Guidelines/Blocked Characters/Blocked Kinks

Fandom Master List (headcanons AND scenarios)

Writing Prompt List

Short Fandom List:

Naruto [I've read and seen all, but my memory may be fuzzy.]

Bleach [I've only read up to that one Jushiro part and couldn't continue because I kept crying. This was years ago but it still hurts. Y'know I really should finish it.]

My Hero Academia [I've only watched up to Season 4.]

Hetalia [I've watched up to Season 5 and watched the movie.]

Looking for SFW? Go to TheUncommonCorner! It's currently Naruto only.

On Wattpad, Fanfiction.net, and Ao3 as TheUncommonCorner.

i have food poisoning and it sucks, but it meant i could just lie in bed writing, so here we gooooooo

@petrichormeraki

As Tommy paddled the boat, Tubbo watched their communicator. “It sounds like she’s not at… wherever we’re going anymore.”

Tommy cursed. “Any clue where to go now then?”

Tubbo glanced down at the messages.

<CaptainSparklez> She’s not there anymore!

<Rendog> How? It’s surrounded by water

<CaptainSparklez> She’s a shapeshifter, not a hybrid.

<Crumbl> yuoll nrrver find mee sprinklez

<CaptainSparklez> Again. You’re a shapeshifter. Why are there feathers left behind.

<Crumbl> I dinit mumch them.

Tubbo looked up and scanned the ocean before pointing out on the water. “Those feathers over there! It’s looking like she left them behind.”

Tommy smiled and turned the boat to follow the trail of feathers. It took a little bit, but the pair did reach land near a forest, though it had started raining. “Where do you think she is?”

Tubbo shrugged. “Don’t know. We don’t even know what she looks like.”

A calico cat walked nearby, then ran as the pair walked near it, making Tommy notice it. “Hey, must be a village nearby. Maybe she’s there for shelter?”

“I hope so. But she might just be hiding under some trees.” Tubbo suggested. As they continued to walk, Tommy saw movement near a tree and started to run toward it. Tubbo watched him run and then noticed the coloring of the form. “Tommy! Wait! That’s a-” The mob exploded. “-Creeper…”

“Aw myan!” The cat said as it sat down next to Tubbo, making them jump.

“Did that cat just talk?!” Tubbo said, nearly shouting from shock.

Said cat changed into what resembled a cat hybrid that reminded Tommy vaguely of Fundy. “Ye! I’m Crumb!”

“Cool! I’m Tommy and this is my friend Tubbo!”

Crumb tilted her head. “Ooo, really? Well I came here with Sparklez, he’s my dad. But i’m hidin’!”

“Want to hang out with us while you hide?” Tubbo suggested and the shapeshifter nodded, changing back into a cat and flopping over Tubbo’s shoulder. “Let’s boat back to your place and show it to Crumb.”

The now trio got into the boat and Tubbo watched as Crumb used her paw pads to type on her communicator and send a message.

<Crumbl> sprakle i made frends!

<Crumbl> Im gonna play wit tonmi and tubbox

Tubbo laughed. “I actually can be a Tubbox.” Tubbo said, making Tommy speak up as well.

“Tubbo in a box, what will he do?”

“Uwwu I’m so good at this!” Crumb replied proudly and Tubbo could feel her purr.

“So is what the captain said true?” Tubbo asked. “Are you really a shapeshifter, not a hybrid?”

“Ye! I um, I’m a badass shapeshifter!” Tommy and Tubbo tried not to laugh at the sound of this cat with a voice like that saying something like that, but they couldn’t hold it in and Crumb also started laughing along. “I’m super strong and beat the Ender Dragon when we had lotsa random potion effects!”

“That sounds so cool.” Tubbo complimented Crumb and then the three of them continued to chat as they rowed along.

Sparklez was glad to see another message from Crumb and see she had made some friends. When he read their names, he froze for a moment. It couldn’t be. This was nowhere near where he should have been. He shook his head. No, it was just coincidence. Crumb probably just misspelled it when typing.

<CaptainSparklez> Alright Crumb, have fun. Just don’t get in trouble.

He laughed as a message came back, distracting him from his previous train of thought.

<Crumbl> No prmosed! Were ginna conmit crim!

“I’m a danger to society!” Crumb shouted as she pounced on a chicken, no longer just a cat, but looking like a very squishy cat that could be mistaken as a stuffed animal at a glance. She had wanted to stay a cat, but by complete chance, another calico cat showed up and Tommy and Tubbo nearly went after the normal cat. She also liked how the pair approved of such a squishy looking cat going left and right killing mobs.

When a parrot flew above her, she jumped to try and grab it, but it was just a little too high for her to reach. “Come down here! I wanna eat you! Mumnch and crumnch!”

The parrot squawked and flew over to land on Tommy’s head. “Oh, leave this one alone. I think this is one of Grian’s. Part of his pesky bird delivery service. 

“But it just looks so tastyyy! Crumb jumped again. It made Tubbo wonder how much of it was just how she acts, or if being a cat so long made her act like one.

“Oh, speaking of Grian. He sent me a message.” Tommy says as he pulls out his communicator. With the flood of messages from the visitors - well, one in particular - Grian sent the message on their own private chat.

<Grian> bring Tubbo if you want but it’s parrot brain hours

<TommyInnit> he probably won’t be coming. We made a friend with one of the guests. Don’t really want to leave her all alone.

<Grian> that makes sense.

<Grian> and bring any extra wheat you can

<TommyInnit> okay, definitely not letting Tubbo come. It’ll shatter my manly image.

<Grian> dad left me books about shifting and I’ve had plenty of time to read. Did you know I can just give myself a beak or talons without shifting completely?

<TommyInnit> woah, hey. Alright big G, I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Tommy looked up to see Tubbo glancing at their communicator. “He messaged me directly, H is talking too much.” Tubbo nodded. “Big G wants me for something. Okay if I let you two hang out by yourselves?”

“Ye! We’re gonna have lotsa fun together! And den we can go see my dad!”

“I can’t wait to meet him!”

Tommy waves and then starts to boat off, using it as a platform once he’s far enough out at sea to safely use his elytra. He stops at his base and goes through his chests, making some hay bales. Afterwards he flies to the mansion and up near the roof where he knows Grian is going to be. 

It was a room made in one of the side roofs of the mansion. The main one sat above the great hall with windows wide open, but the areas to the side were a little more closed off. This one also had a large window, but there usually wasn’t much in there.

Right now however, the place was littered with a few beds and wool and hay bales. Grian was in the center of it all, wings spread out. In the small room they looked much larger. 

“Hey, I brought the hay.” Tommy joked, holding out the bundled wheat. Grian immediately took it and started spreading it around. “Hoo boy. Are you sure you don’t want Mumbo here, orrrr?”

“Oh he definitely wants me here.” Mumbo’s voice speaks up as he pushes a wing off him, only for it to flop back down, pinning his legs. His tie is loose and his suit is a mess along with his hair. “It’s been fine for a while. Just stay in bed, maybe wake up in the middle of the night to a nightmare. I forgot how he gets when he’s like this.”

Tommy nodded. He had only really seen this twice. The first time he managed to decline, much to Grian’s dismay, but the second time there was no way out of it with Grian now knowing they were brothers.

Tommy knows he could have said no this time, but seeing everything that happened the day of the war and the night following made Tommy worried, and he wanted to be there.

Grian smiles as he finishes moving blocks and beds and carpets around. He nudged a few stray pieces of wheat and cotton around with his feet and wings. He knows it would be so much easier to use his hands, but it just doesn’t feel right. 

The avian stares at the nest he’s built. It’s perfect. Maybe a little small for right now, but that’s just because the kids are still on their way. He thinks that he could make it bigger. Big enough to fit the rest of his family, but they aren’t around. So he settles for Mumbo and Tommy. 

He pulls Tommy into the nest, making sure he’s comfortable before putting each of his wings around Tommy and Mumbo. Mumbo half bats the wing away as feathers get into his mouth, but he’s too exhausted from helping to set this up in the first place to complain much more.

Grian holds them close. He could lose everything else if he still had the people he cared about most. He would do anything to protect them.

Crumb is excited as Tubbo boats the two of them towards the shopping district. She really wanted her dad to meet her new friend. And Tubbo was very much a new friend with a nickname and everything.

When they landed, she hopped out of the boat and shifted to a hybrid form before running off to find her dad. Tubbo was left running behind her, aging a little trouble keeping up.

“Sprinklez!!! Look at my new friend!” She jumped into her dad’s arms, shifting back into her cat form. He looked around not seeing anyone for a moment before a panting Tubbo caught up.

“You… couldn’t have… waited for me?” Tubbo panted out, trying to catch his breath.

“Dis is Tubbox! He has another friend but but but I don’ have a good name for him yet so he’s just Tommy.”

Sparklez smiles and shifts Crumb to hold out a hand. “Nice to meet you. Captain Sparklez. But most people just use my last name or even just use Jordan. The one exception being Crumb who likes to call me Sprinklez or of course just Dad.”

Tubbo’s eyes sparkle. “Wait, you’re the Captain?! I’ve heard so much about you! You travel across so many worlds and are known for the songs you’ve written and your curse! I mean, the curse isn’t the most popular thing to know about, but uh…”

Sparklez just laughed. “It’s fine. I’m sure I’m going to get rid of it soon enough. Glad to meet another fan, especially if you’re friends with Crumb now.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty pog.” Tubbo jokes and they continue to talk. He doesn’t give his real name since Crumb seems to like using ‘Tubbox’. He doesn’t know how much it could change their life’s if he did.

The netherite blocks go up and there’s the sound of redstone being messed with. He looks out to watch as the lava slowly disappears. Across the chasm he can see an equally black and white figure. He can already feel the energy on them.

Even with his admin powers gone, he still has some tricks up his sleeve. And there are always strings to pull.

Tale as Old as Time - Part 1

Namjoon x Reader Author: Admin Mo Summary: At the hands of an evil enchantress, Prince Namjoon has been struck with a beastly curse. Love is the only way to break the spell, but who could ever learn to love a beast? Note: Wow my brain really said “All you can think about now is Namjoon in Beauty and the Beast and you MUST WRITE IT NOW.” Warnings: None? Word Count: 1.7k

Prologue - 1

Prince Namjoon spent weeks in his wing of the castle, lamenting Rosaline's curse. He avoided the mirrors, spoons, and standing water. He couldn’t stand to look at himself or the others. Guilt ate at him. It was his fault Rosaline had come in the first place. It was his fault he’d doomed himself and his friends to a fate so grim with no hope of ever returning to normal. Not without dooming his kingdom, at least.

Jungkook brought Namjoon meals, as he was one of the few who didn’t have mobility issues due to his new...condition. Though the prince barely wanted to eat, it was important to him that his friend was taken care of, especially in his new form.

“How can you stand to look at me?” Namjoon had asked on one of the first nights of his self-inflicted exile. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re no monster, your highness. You’re my friend. This curse isn’t your fault. None of the others hold any anger against you.”

“They should. They should all hate me. It’s my-”

“It’s not your fault.” Jungkook repeated. “It could have been any of us. It’s not your fault the witch wanted you.”

Namjoon sighed. “I suppose not…”

“Will you please come see the others? They all miss you.”

“Why don’t they come here?”

“You see, it’s...not that simple.” Jungkook replied. “Many of the others...can’t walk, your highness.”

Namjoon was struck silent. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. It was even worse than he feared. “I’ll come see them. Lead the way.”

The first stop on the tour of the cursed castle was one of the bedrooms down the hall. Jungkook pushed open the doors and Namjoon followed him inside. It was a large bedroom, often used for guests. He knew, however, that Taehyung had been in the room, organizing the clothes in the wardrobe.

“Taehyung?” Namjoon asked. He stared at the wardrobe, waiting for it to respond to him somehow, but instead, it was the full length mirror beside it that came to life, Taehyung’s form trapped within the glass, as though it was a painting of his friend.

“Namjoon! You finally came.” Taehyung’s face lit up, but once he finally got a good look at their prince, his eyes widened. “She...what did she do to you?”

“It’s not worse than what she did to you.” Namjoon’s eyes watered, his voice so very deep and growly. “I’m so sorry, Taehyung.”

“It’s not your fault.” Taehyung shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“You’re trapped in a mirror.”

“It’ll be okay.” Taehyung wasn’t sure if his words were true, but he also didn’t know how to make the prince feel better. He put his hand against the glass, pressing against the invisible boundary trapping him inside. Namjoon raised his giant paw and matched it to Taehyung’s hand.

“I’m going to get you out of there.” Namjoon decided. Although, he wasn’t quite sure how he’d be able to accomplish that.

Next, Jungkook led Namjoon down to the smaller ballroom, the one that had been vacant during the party. He heard piano music coming from the small room, but once they got inside it, he noticed there was no one sitting at the piano bench. No one was in the room. Or so he though. He remembered that Yoongi had been absent from the party because he’d been practicing.

Suddenly, the music stopped. The keys stopped pressing themselves and the piano tilted slightly towards them.

“Your highness…” Yoongi’s voice emitted from the top of the grand piano, the strings reverberating slightly as he said it.

“Yoongi.”

“How are you...holding up?”

“Not well.” Namjoon sighed. “How are you?”

“It’s not all bad. I always did want more time to practice.” Yoongi chuckled darkly. “I was practicing in here during the party, and the next thing I knew…”

“That must have been terrifying.”

“It was at first. It...still is, sometimes when I wake up.”

Jungkook led Namjoon onwards to the kitchen, where he half expected to find the castle’s cook, Jin, making something. And he was, technically. Except there was a pot on the stove of the oven, which was stirring itself.

“Namjoon?” The oven asked.

“Jin?” Namjoon asked in return.

“It’s me.” The oven replied. “Just making dinner, your highness. It’ll be done soon.”

“I’m in no hurry.” Namjoon shook his head. Each room he walked into, he just felt worse. He’d seen four of the six staff members, all that were left were Hoseok and Jimin.

Jungkook led Namjoon out of the kitchen and into the den, where there was a candelabra and a teacup sitting on the table. At the sight of him, the candelabra lit up, hopping closer to the edge.

“You’re here! You’ve finally come out of hiding!”

“Hoseok?”

“In the flesh! Er, wax…”

And so the teacup must have been Jimin, Namjoon deduced. He sat on the couch, facing them, and picked up the cup gently. There was indeed a face painted into the cup’s surface where there hadn’t been one previously. When the golden painted eyes opened, the cup screamed, quieting down quickly.

“Jimin?”

“You scared me, your highness, I’m so sorry.” Jimin replied. A pink blush spreaded across his painted cheeks. “I didn’t mean to scream. I’m...I’m not scared of you.”

“It’s okay if you are.” Namjoon said, sullen. “I’m aware my new form is quite...frightening.”

“It doesn’t matter what you look like, you’re still the same Namjoon I grew up with.” Hoseok said, resting one of his candle-bearing hands carefully on Namjoon’s. “We know you’re not a monster.”

“I doubt anyone outside the castle would think that, though.” Namjoon sighed and carefully set Jimin back on the table. “None of you deserve this fate. Maybe I should just-”

“Go to Rosaline? Don’t.” Jungkook shook his head. “If she did this to us, what do you think she’d do if she was in charge of the kingdom? Besides, you don’t love her.”

“I don’t.” Namjoon agreed. He stared at his giant fur-covered paws, still in disbelief that they belonged to him. “But like this, I doubt anyone will love me either.”

***

Five Years Later

***

From birth, you had always been a little...different. And if there was anything your village hated, it was different.

“Witch.” An old man muttered under his breath as you passed.

You only sighed and pulled your cape further around yourself. You were used to the treatment, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. Your boots crunched the autumn leaves beneath your feet as you walked to the baker’s cart to pick up some bread for the week.

“The usual, (Y/N)?” The baker asked, a genuine smile on his wrinkled face.

“Yes, please.” You nodded.

He picked up the parcel he had waiting on the counter and handed it to you. You set the large paper bag in your basket. You handed a small bag of coins to the baker and he smiled. “I’ll see you next week, then.”

“Of course!” You walked out the door and wandered further through the market. You bought some jam from one merchant, some thread for another, and you stopped, staring at the most gorgeous yellow fabric you’d ever seen. What a beautiful gown that’d make. Unfortunately, you knew you definitely wouldn’t be able to afford it. After all, your craft as a seamstress only made so much money. Barely enough to keep you fed, let alone any other expenses. No, a yellow gown would have to wait.

So, on you walked through the village until you finally arrived at your little house. Since your parents had passed a few years before, you had the place to yourself. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. You walked inside and set your basket on the table before walking back out to tend to the three chickens you kept. You collected their eggs and then walked back into the house.

For a moment, you just sat in silence, enjoying the moment of peace before getting back to work on your latest piece, a long blue gown. You took orders from neighboring villages as well as your own, creating unique dresses for the women in town. Every once in a while, you’d receive a generous tip for your labor, but most of the time, you only made enough to afford your food for the week.

You sewed seam after seam, dressing your bodice slowly until finally, you had a finished dress. You’d have to deliver it to your customer in the next few days to collect your money.

You exhaled a long sigh, leaning back and finally letting your muscles rest. You’d need to save energy for tonight. There was going to be a meteor shower, and you were determined to stay up and watch it until its completion. Much to the village’s dismay, you took after your mother. You’d inherited her gift, just a touch of magic that seemed to be more powerful under the stars.

However, due to powerful enchantresses like Rosaline, who tortured the people of the outskirts of the kingdom and bent them to her will, magic users were feared, sometimes even persecuted. You were lucky the people of your village hadn’t burned you at the stake. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if they tried at some point.

It was still nice out and the sun was beginning to set, so you walked outside your house to take a little stroll in the twilight. It was then that you spotted the baker, on his way home from work.

“Hello again, (Y/N). What are you doing out so late?”

“I’m headed to the field outside of town to watch the stars.”

“A beautiful night for that.” He nodded, thinking for a long moment before he added. “I heard beyond the forest, there’s an abandoned castle. Rumor has it, there’s an observatory in its tower.”

“You don’t say…” You murmured, looking out towards the woods. Perhaps you’d have to wander out there and find out for yourself. “Thank you for the tip.”

Tagged: @thetofuartist​

Level Up! Beginner/Intermediate/Advanced RP and You

Hello there! Coming to you again with tips & tricks for a top-notch roleplay experience! Today we're going to talk about writing levels and what they mean for your roleplay experience. We'll cover what these levels mean, how to gauge where you're at, and how you can improve your roleplay writing specifically!

WRITING LEVELS

"Writing levels" are often a descriptor sites will use in their advertising and site buzzes. They might be "semi-literate," "intermediate," "literate," "advanced," or any other sort of buzzword. The key here is that these descriptors are used by site staff both to advertise what type of writing is most common on their site and what type of writing they want to see on their site.

What writing levels are not is a value indicator. There's nothing wrong with being an intermediate writer or a beginner writer; advanced sites are not inherently better than intermediate ones, beginner sites are nothing to be ashamed of! Think of writing levels as an umbrella within the rp community. The same way a forum rp-er might narrow their search to jcink sites, a writer might narrow their search to sites which cater to their style of writing.

That said, it is good to define what each of these levels look like so you can figure out where your writing might fit.

BEGINNER Beginner writing is often very short and direct, without much in the way of literary flourish. Characters might be fairly undeveloped (or developed around one trait, for example, "goth" or "prep") and there's usually more discussion of their appearance than you see in advanced writing.

Examples:

Susie was short and very skinny, with big eyes and long mermaid-wavy hair dyed blue at the ends. She was sitting outside Firefly High in blue skinny jeans, silver Converse, and a black t-shirt. "I hope someone can give me a ride home," she said.

Raven sneered at Susie. She didn't like blue because she liked black, because she was a goth. "Are you listening to popular music? What a phony."

Bramblepaw sat down in the clearing. "Hello" he meowed.

Some guides will also give an example like 

patty threw a pom pom at susie! "take that u nerd!"

But I am choosing to believe that you're past that if you're deep enough in this hobby to be seeking out resources - I certainly never had that self-awareness until I was more in intermediate territory!

Beginner-level writing gets the job done, and can certainly move a story along. But if you've been writing a while, you might be ready to build more multifaceted characters, and to invest more effort in your writing.

INTERMEDIATE/SEMI-LITERATE WRITING Intermediate writing tends to be longer than beginner writing, with more variety in sentence structure and with more advanced word choices. There are likely more "beats" per post, by which I mean that instead of just answering a question or getting on the bus or etc, a character will likely do more actions in each turn writing. Characters are less likely to be a stereotype (see: Raven the goth who only wears black, Patty the popular cheerleader who is blonde and brainless, etc) but applications likely reveal one-dimensional characters. Common application styles I see from intermediate writers are "interviews" and "journals," as well as listicles (10 Things Raven Likes, 9 People Raven Hates, etc); this likely means a character is told rather than shown.

(Wondering what's so intermediate about interviews and journals? See my guides to interviews and journals!)

Examples:

Susie was born on March 20, 2003 in Farmville, Iowa. She didn't like how similar her classmates all were - they all listened to the same music, read the same books (none!) and had the most fun when drinking on a tractor. Susie was more deep, and liked to write poetry and sketch the animals that lived on her family's farm. Today she was sitting outside Firefly High, twirling the ends of her blue-dyed hair and waiting for a ride home. 

Raven wasn't like most girls. She didn't like horses or rabbits, but only liked goats, because they represented the devil. Raven also wasn't like most girls, at least in Farmville, because she worshipped the devil. She wore a lot of black to represent this, and when she saw Susie, she sneered. Blue! Susie must be a normie. "Are you listening to popular music?" She asked. "What a phony."

Bramblepaw had spent all morning hunting and was feeling lonely. All he wanted was to share a squirrel with a friend, and maybe have someone groom the tricky spot behind his ears. He padded from the apprentice den to the warriors', to the elders and no one was home. He sat forlorn in the middle of the clearing. "Hello?" He meowed.

Another common trait of both beginner and intermediate writing is that posts might not leave much for a partner to reply to. The whole point of this weird hobby is to collaborate with a partner - if you're finding that it is hard to keep writing partners, you might take a look at my guide for writing posts that beg a response.

Intermediate writing is stronger than beginner writing, but still sometimes falls flat when it comes to collaboration with a partner, and is almost never beautiful to read. Intermediate writing is when advanced writing is just over the next hill - and that hill comes with a fair amount of work.

ADVANCED/LITERATE WRITING Advanced writing can be long or short, but the writing in either case packs a punch. Advanced writers use a variety of sentence structures, words, and literary devices. They might have specific imagery they use for specific characters, specific literary constructions for different characters, and there is a strong character voice in each post. Advanced writers write multifaceted characters with genuine flaws and fears, and advanced writers produce writing that is enjoyable to read, elegant and emotive. Applications will usually be anecdotal - will demonstrate key moments in a character's life, allowing the writer to show them in action rather than tell the reader what they are like. (A guide to anecdotal freestyle applications is available here.

Examples:

Everything felt the same in Farmville: identical rows of corn stretching endlessly over the horizon, pockmarked by the occasional farmhouse, white clapboard and falling shutters. Every person felt the same - Susie and Mary and Sarah and Joseph, strong peasant names living strong peasant lives, and never straying more than twenty miles from the town in which they were born.

Even Susie knew she had her place in the sameness: the once-every-generation girl who fancies herself to be more, as though her sketches of the sheep and pigs are any better than her grandmother's before her. As though dying her hair blue were enough to make her different when she knew she belonged here as sure as the hogs in the barn.

The only difference between Susie and her classmates was that she didn't have a car to get her to her evening job at the Road Ranger gas station, and her bike had disassembled itself after she'd pedaled it into a gopher hole, so here she was, sitting pathetically outside Firefly High, waiting for a ride. She'd almost rather be fired than beg for one. 

It’s the principle of the thing, Raven had told her mother that morning. Yes, it was 90 degrees and 90 percent humidity; yes, there was not a cloud in the sky and the fields absorbed heat like a winter sweater; yes, she was aware that her white makeup and Wet n' Wild eyeliner was falling off her face like The Scream. But it was the principle of the thing, wearing the long-sleeved black shirt with the hand-cut thumbholes, a long dark skirt; her only concession to the heat, a pair of thin gray flip-flops instead of her beloved Docs. She listens to Death Wish; she doesn't have one.

But nothing makes a Satantic rebel feel more a phony than feeling it drip off of them in the rural Iowa heat, and Raven wanted to take it out on someone. Fair? No, but life isn't fair; she's got that on a sticker on the electric guitar she saved up her Hy-Vee salary for and never learned to play. Maybe pretending to be an asshole has turned Raven into one.

She has no real problem with Susie - Susie Q., from math, or Susie C., from human geo; who knows, they're all the same - but she scoffs at her anyway, loud enough to catch Susie's attention. "What top-40 garbage are you listening to?"

Hunting is something they do together, or they're supposed to. But in the whole time he'd been out in the woods, Bramblepaw hadn't seen a single other cat - not playing at the stream, not waiting in a tree for the finches to return, not sitting along the RiverClan border to taunt their neighbors. If he'd been a Loner, just passing through, he would have thought the entire territory abandoned.

It was unsettling, and when he returned to the Camp, it was more of the same: everyone gone, without a trace; had he imagined them being here at all? Was it all in his head?

His mew sounded small and pitiful to even him, the mewl of a lost kitten. "Hello?"

Advanced writing makes more time for descriptions, scene-setting, and other narration. It doesn't feel "cringey," by which I mean if you read it 10 years from now you're probably not going to want to drown yourself. Please do not ask me about the 2005 Proboards forum I adminned and referenced for this tutorial.

So now that we can recognize what writing our level might be at - how do we shop for a site?

FINDING YOUR FIT

Now that you have a sense of where your writing sits, it's time to use that data point in searching for a new site to call home. Some sites make it easy for you by self-identifying as beginner, intermediate, or advanced; some sites may use "semi-literate" and "literate," but I know I stray from those labels because it feels like a value judgment, and as I said before:

there is nothing wrong with being part of a beginner or intermediate community, if that is what makes the most sense for your writing and for what you aim to get out of your roleplay experience!

Before applying to a new site, you should do a little bit of digging around to see if it's a good fit for you: 

Look at accepted character applications. How do these compare to your own writing?

Skim some threads from top posters. How does this community write and structure their threads? Could you see yourself regularly keeping up with their speed, length, literary quality?

To the above point - does it seem like the community has a tendency towards your personal writing pet peeves? (For example, I personally cannot stand purple prose, and if the site community is prone to it, I am OUT.)

This is in addition to all standard due-diligence site-hunting routines, e.g. not diving into the world of Southern Gothic supernatural if you're looking for, say, urban fantasy.

It's also worth thinking about how the community behaves on the server, if you join it:

Is there a thread shoutout/compliments/etc channel? What passages are members calling out in there as exceptional writing?

Do the members strike you as open-minded and friendly or as more of a closed group? If you choose to shoot for a level above your standard writing as a growth exercise, this will be easier to achieve with an open-minded and friendly group than with a group of snobs.

Do you enjoy the vibe? Something frequently overlooked, I think. If you don't like the energy of the community, just don't join the site - that is going to be much more productive for everyone than you joining and then trying to get the staff to fully re-engineer their community.

Be honest with yourself! Regardless of how much you like a site's plot, lore, and community, joining a site that sits above your writing proficiency is challenging. You might find your characters routinely pended for lacking the development of other characters onsite. Other members may not be enthusiastic to write with you - not necessarily out of snobbishness or elitism, but because it's not fun to feel like you're not getting equal effort or quality from a writing partner. And you might find yourself feeling insecure about how your writing stacks up to others (I've been writing on advanced sites for 10 years and I feel insecure about my own writing sometimes!) which might sap your muse.

If you are looking for a minimal-effort, minimal-stress rp experience, stick to sites that are at or below your writing level. Writing with people of similar skillset will help take the edge off any insecurity, and because writing will be lower-pressure and lower-effort, you will be better positioned to juggle multiple characters and more big plots. "Lower effort" doesn't mean "lazy" - it just means that you free up headspace that otherwise you might spend on the mechanics of writing versus the excitement of plotting.

If you are an intermediate writer seeking to write on an advanced site, you need to take a much more deliberate approach.

One thing I see often is intermediate writers applying multiple characters to an advanced site at once. This is a losing proposition. While staff might be willing to pend an app and work with you on revisions, if they see you submitting multiple applications that require major revisions and overhauls, they see a pattern. While staff might be willing to help you develop one character to their site's standard, if they anticipate you needing that level of coaching on every character, they will question your ability to keep up with their members in threads. Staff cannot be expected to assist members on writing each thread post - at that point, it becomes easier to decline all of the intermediate writer's applications.

If you are an intermediate writer seeking to write on an advanced site, you need to treat this as a "quality, not quantity" project.

When I was 13 I was writing very much at a beginner and intermediate level, just little Neopets rps with my friends. Then I joined a horse rp - an advanced rp - with a 1000 word minimum per post. While I am beyond thankful ridiculous word count minimums aren't common anymore, I can credit this rp with much of my growth as a writer.

I wrote one (1) character. And I only plotted her with a couple of others. I was very active in the OOC community, and was eventually made a mod - but when it came to IC activity, I focused all my energy on one character and just a couple of plots, because I spent hours on each post, making sure that I was matching my writing partners as best I could. It was much more work than the beginner & intermediate forums I was on with my friends, and much more work for much less action. But stretching like that is what made advanced writing get easier and easier - until I could balance two characters on an advanced site, then four, until now, when I write 12 characters on multiple advanced sites with relative ease. The real challenge is in keeping up with threads - not in matching quality anymore.

If you are an intermediate writer seeking to improve your writing, joining an advanced site is a great option for growth, but you need to adjust your expectations.

Here are my best tips for intermediate writers looking to make the jump to advanced - or, for that matter, for beginners to make the jump to intermediate: 

Focus, focus, focus. Choose one (1) character to write - no matter how tempted you are by want ads, no matter how many other ideas you get, no matter what your muse is throwing at you. Use all those on sites at your current level. For your reach site, pick one character.

Be receptive. Your one (1) character might take a revision or two to get out of a pend. Remember that staff don't pend apps to be assholes - they do it because they believe in you and think you have it in you to do the necessary revisions! If they thought you were a lost cause they wouldn't have wasted their own time with a pend. Be open to the idea that they know what works and is expected in their community. After all, if your character and your writing aren't appealing to the site community... you're not going to have anyone to write with!

Focus, focus, focus, part 2. You should not choose this character based on the volume of plots they can attract. Choose a character who has one or two very close plots for you to focus on. You might consider identifying a particularly kind member of the community and filling one of their want ads, so that this close plot is ready-made for you, and so this person can be a friendly face on your writing journey.

Be realistic. You might think: well, if I focus on one character for a few weeks, then I'll be ready to take on another, right? You might be or you might not. Don't rush it. This entire journey is about deliberation and intentionality. Don't take on a second character on an advanced site until writing the first to the same standard is noticeably easier.

Be kind to yourself. This is a lot of work! If you have the time for it, you might consider also staying active on a site that is at your writing level, so you have a place for easy writing, indulging your plot bunnies, etc.

I hope this tutorial has been a helpful resource to you, both in identifying how to find the right rp for you and in figuring out how to improve your writing, if you so choose. Happy writing!

A2 - Chapter 5: Kingdom Fall

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Series is rated M

Word Count: 2268

The school wasn't so devoid of life after all.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

Every bone inside her body was screaming. Between her rapid heartbeat and the ringing in her ears, she had no idea if she was truely screaming out loud as well. Although, her screams could never hope to drown out the angry howls that came from the rooms around her.

Faces flashed through her mind. The faces of her friends, but not at all how she remembered them. Her worst nightmares took hold of their memories and twisted them into rotten, grotesque beings with greyed skin and dead eyes. Clothes soaked through with their own blackened blood and caked with mud. Hair tangled and flesh marred. 

Who laid waiting behind these doors? Were her friends forced to join their ranks? Killed and reborn as mindless drones?

An unsteady hand clasped her shoulder, The freckled face she saw when she turned was pale and fearful, as well as the boy’s who accompanied them.

“We need to leave.” Louis said with a darkness in his eyes.

“If they survived, we won’t find them here.”

And if they didn't, we will.

Louis wrapped his arm around Clementine, tugging her away from the vandalized hallway and the unknown of what lurked behind those doors. Each footstep felt heavier than the last. Where would they go now? It was too dangerous to stay. Was there even a place far enough for them to run?

Was there ever an escape?

“Goddammit, boy!” A deep gravelled voice bellowed across the yard just as the three of them stepped out of the dormitory.

They dove to the ground, rough cement biting into their hands and knees as they ducked behind the brick wall. A silhouette of a tall, thin exited the Admin building.

“How many times I gotta tell ya to keep that damn thing tied up! If I get bit I’m taking you out with me.” An old man with a long dark beard sticking out under the kerchief over his face stomped out of the door and stepped into the moonlight, swinging the heavy door closed behind him, barely caught by the boy who followed him out, the crossbow on his back getting caught as he tried to slip through

“Sorry, sir.” the young teen replied, voice slightly muffled by the matching scarf over his face

“What are we gonna do?” AJ whispered, gun already in hand.

“If they killed our friends, we can’t let them get away.”

“We don’t know if they’re dead.” Louis insisted through gritted teeth.

“Look, there’s three of us, and two of them. Let’s see where they go, and get the jump on them.”

They stayed silent with weapons at the ready,

“Wolf’s gonna make you pay for that one. Hope you’re not too hungry already, I doubt you’ll be getting any supper tomorrow.”

“But you killed it!” The boy’s small outburst earned him a hard slap across his face, sending him into the dirt.

“You’d best remember your place before you end up replacing that thing.”

If the boy mumbled any reply, it was too low for them to hear it.

The bearded man left him sitting in the dirt, lighting a cigarette and heading back inside the Admin building, slamming the door behind him.

The boy sat there for a minute, the pale light casting shadows over his face as his dark hair hung in front of it, making his expression unreadable as his kerchief covered the lower half of his face, the blue of an afternoon sky cut through by the black fangs painted across it. He stared down at his hands, balled into fists as they clutched the dirt below him. As if having some kind of epiphany, the boy suddenly stood up all at once, flinging a handful of dirt scattering across the cobblestone as he pulled his crossbow into his grip.

Clementine quickly darted her head back behind the wall as he turned in their direction. Not daring another peak, Louis nodded to her with weapons in hand, holding their breath as the footsteps grew louder.

The second his boot appeared on Louis’ right, he did not hesitate. Grabbing the crossbow as the bolt fired, sticking into the door. Louis ripped the weapon from his grip, throwing it with a clang against the concrete as he easily overpowered the boy, pinning him to the brick column and twisting his arm behind his back.

“Scream once and it’ll be your last.” Clementine threatened.

“Take him inside.”

They tossed him just inside the doors. Louis and AJ blocked the path down the hall as Clementine closed the door behind them. AJ kept his revolver trained on the boy as Clementine pulled the scarf down around his neck. His face from his lower lip to his chin was warped with scars like something dull and uneven tore its way through his flesh. The kid slid to the floor, defeated, gripping his fingers through his shaggy black hair. She could see his shoulders shake with his uneven breathing as he crossed his arms over them. What Clem originally thought was a red jacket was now apparent to be slathered in walker blood, fresh enough for the pungent smell to sting her nose.

Time for some answers.

“What’s your name?” Clementine asked. A small tug of guilt pulled at her heart for threatening this kid.

“Why? Need something to put on the gravestone?” He sassed her, though his words didn’t have the bite of wholeheartedness. His voice was hallow of hope as if he was just trying to speed through to the end.

“If you’re going to kill me just do it already.”

“We don’t want to hurt you.” She spoke honestly.

“Just tell us what happened here, and we’ll go.”

“What’s it look like?” He raised his voice just enough to trigger a reaction from the trapped walkers as it echoed down the hall, the groans echoing back.

“This place is a den now.”

Why would he want to make a stronghold here? 

There’s nothing worth attacking for at least a week’s travel.

Other than us, of course.

“What happened to the people here?” Louis insisted, gritting his teeth as he tried to cling to his denial.

“What did you do to them?”

“I didn’t do shit.” He said plainly.

“We send the herd in then hang back and let it sort itself out. Pops and I searched this place top to bottom while we stored the Warriors, there’s no one else here. Not alive at least.”

“You just send in walkers and hope for the best?” AJ questioned.

“And why here? What did we do to you?”

The teen’s face fell as he stared down at his own hands, rubbing the callouses on his knuckles.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He admitted.

“That’s not something Wolfgang cares about. If you’ve got something he wants, he’ll take it. He doesn’t give a shit about people’s lives, just how useful they are. You make yourself useful. Stick to what you can do best, and try to stay on top of those at the bottom of the food chain.”

“Why do you help them then?” Clem argued, asking him questions she asked herself a long time ago.

“Why wouldn’t you just run? What’s stopping you?”

“You think I have a choice?” He practically cried.

“They took my family in when I was a little kid. Back when this all started. I don’t remember my mom because they made her a lower rank than my dad so they took her from us and we never saw her again. They took me away too to be kept with the other kids. Fed us their bullshit way of life for years until we got our ranks and put us to work.”

Tears began to cut through the dirt on his face. He looked up at Clementine as she found herself unable to look away. The familiarity of his story was uncanny. Uncanny to a future that almost was.

AJ would’ve been just like him.

She saw herself as the stranger she used to be, but perhaps a few unwritten years later. The unfeeling killer who knew better than to question an order. 

And next to her?

The young boy who never knew anything else. Anything better. Watching the only person he could call family spiral into a darkness she could not be pulled out of, destined to bring him down as well.

 “H-He isn’t like what I pictured him to be. I thought… I thought I could fix this.” The teen sobbed at her feet.

“He’s my dad, but I don’t know what he is anymore...”

Clementine stared for a long time, watching the broken boy at her feet. Unable to find any words.

“Clem?” AJ spoke softly with acknowledgement in his eyes as if sharing her thoughts.

“What do we do now?”

“Come on.” Clementine spoke not to the others but to the boy.

“We know someone who can help you disappear.”

He looked up in astonishment at the hand held out to him. He bit his lip, seemingly contemplating his ability to start anew.

“If I get caught they’ll kill me. No questions asked.” He said.

“They might even kill my dad for letting me get away.”

“Does he seem like that’s really your dad anymore?” Clementine asked as she knelt to his level.

“There’s nothing you can do for him.” “I hope you’re right.” He said as he took her hand.

Clementine helped him to his feet as she turned to look at Louis who seemed uncertain, but didn’t outright object.

“We have to find the others.” Clementine said determinedly.

“If the school wasn’t safe anymore, where would they go?”

“Let’s see…” Louis paced.

“If the herd came in through the south gate then they’d probably had gone north. A few hours from there’s a truck stop just over the bridge along with a few other shops and stuff. I guess that’s what sucks about being in the middle of nowhere. Takes forever to get anywhere.”

“Where the hell’d you run off to now, boy?” That grizzled voice came from outside.

“If you’re in there fuckin’ around with them things I’m gonna feed you to ‘em!”

Time’s running out.

Clementine pulled them along down the hall to the only unblocked door in the hall.

“Did you put any in the basement?” She whispered.

“No.” He replied.

“It’d be too hard to get them back up the stairs.”

She pulled the door open just enough to fit them through, the old door screeching on its hinges as she pulled it shut behind her. Footsteps thumped across the wooden floor as the angry man searched the corridor.

“Boy if you don’t come out now I will feed you to the fucking wolf!” 

More enraged screaming followed down the hall and Clementine pulled the boy away from the door, carefully navigating the messy basement to the cellar doors, a cold draft of night air hitting her in the face as she carefully opened one of the doors. 

“Let’s go.” She lead.

A gunshot rang through the air as the bullet lodged into the bricks a foot to her right. Clementine didn't stop to look at the man. Instead, her survival instincts kicked into max as she yelled for the others to run. The father screamed the incoherent words of a madman as he fired blind shots at them. The young woman busted through the gate shoulder-first as the four of them fled into the night, the sound of gunshots becoming fainter as they put the school behind them.

---

Clementine only stopped when her lungs burned and begged for reprieve. Heaving as she leaned against a tree. The sound of rushing water masked their low voices as they drank from the stream. Thankfully, they all got away for now. But their break needed to be brief if they were to begin their journey.

Louis grabbed Clem and AJ and pulled them into a tight hug as they all caught their breath.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been shot at.” Louis laughed.

“I did not miss it.”

Clementine sat on a log to rest her aching leg, AJ joining her as they leaned against each other.

The kid they had saved stood facing the way they’d come, tapping his foot in time with the chirping of the crickets.

“You’re going to be okay.” Clementine reassured him, trying to keep him as hopeful as he could be given the circumstances.

“First we find our friends, then we try to intercept Layla and tell her what happened here. She’s allied with some of the biggest communities in the state. She’ll find you a home away from the war.”

“Then why do you live in a run-down school?” He questioned, biting his thumb as he began to pace with anxiety.

“We live the way we do by choice.” Louis responded.

“We’re a family. And we do whatever it takes to protect each other.”

“Even fight a war?”

“Been there, done that, won.” Louis joked.

“You just gotta decide what’s really worth fighting for. Something you want to fight for, not what someone tells you to fight for.”

The teen reached behind his neck, tugging at the knot in the fabric that hung around it. He held the kerchief in front of him, staring down into the fangs that bit down into his flesh for as long as he could remember. He started until he could no longer bear the sight, crumpling it up and throwing it into the stream, watching it float away in the fast current.

“Eli.” The boy said plainly.

“What?”

“My name is Eli.”

                                            Let´s Start The Party!

Los alumnos han estado viviendo en un ambiente tenso, el no saber quien fue el culpable de la muerte, las acusaciones hacia los sospechosos, las mentiras, los cuestionamientos y sin duda están hartos. 

El rumor de una fiesta empezó a correr por los pasillos, su ubicación era dicha en secreto así como quienes la organizaban y cuando sería, pues obviamente una fiesta de esta índole nunca sería permitida por el director y mucho menos en la situación actual. Pero sin duda parece ser lo que los alumnos necesitan.

¿De qué trata este evento?

Los alumnos Elijah Gerard, Frederick Mikaelson, Sophie de Martel y Angelo Cassano organizaron una fiesta en la cabaña del bosque y sus alrededores cercanos. Con la intención de relajar un poco las cosas y olvidarse de los problemas que han ocurrido recientemente.

¿Los profesores estarán presentes?

No dado que es una fiesta clandestina por lo que estos pueden rolear fuera del evento si lo desean.

¿Es obligatorio que mi personaje asista?

No, puedes llevar convos fuera del evento si se desea pero preferimos que todos los alumnos hayan asisitido a la fiesta 

Aclaraciones:

Es MUY importante que en en todas sus roles coloquen el tag #salvatoreverse, con esto tendremos control de la actividad de los personajes. Si no lo colocan, no se tomará como actividad porque es probable que no lo veamos.

Pueden abrir starters, utilizando el tag #salvatoreschoolstarter .

Pueden abrir los starters que quieran pero tomen en cuenta que más de 40 personajes, por lo que les permitiremos cerrar starters. ¿Qué quiere decir esto? Si ya no quieres más replies a tu starter, enviarás un ask al main pidiendo que se cierre.

La actividad se cuenta a partir de dos starters respondidos por personaje.

Por favor, traten de contestar todos o la mayoría de los starters con todos sus personajes.

Podrán abrir starters privados pero darle prioridad a los starters abiertos generales. Si solo respondes estos no te contará como actividad.

Puede continuar respondiendo lo pasado y convertirlos en privados pero les pedimos que por favor le den prioridad al evento.

Se hará un pequeño anuncio minutos antes del inicio de la trama para indicar la apertura de starters.

Recuerden colocar en el título del starter: “Party”.

Si tienen alguna duda, pueden comunicarse al ask o chat con alguna admin.

Regla más importante: DIVERTIRSE.

             Evento iniciado el día 01 al 15 de Mayo.

What about first character you wrote for? 👀

Deidara! It was probably five chapters? Terribly written by young me but that's just life. You start one place and try to improve from then on. If I recall correctly, it was like an Akatsuki cats situation but only with him I think?

“How much eggnog have you had tonight?” “A f-few glassesss, why?” “Because I’m prettyyyy sure it’s spiked.” with Somi please?

Idol: Somi (IOI)

Admin Lee

A/N: I didn’t mention it in the story itself, but Somi is aged up to 21 for this since she’s still underage! I know this is a little short as well, but nonetheless I hope y’all enjoy it! 

It was nearly a week before Christmas, and some of your friends had invited you and Somi to a party that was being held that night. You didn’t really have any plans, other than to just sit around and re-watch Christmas movies, so you agreed.

Arriving at the house where it was being held without a hitch, you knocked on the door, and it was opened by your friend who invited you in. You were greeted by at least 20 other people in the building, a very abundantly stocked snack table, and a huge pitcher of eggnog.

-

Throughout the night, movies were on, songs were sung, and eggnog was had. At some point later in the night, Somi had stumbled up to you, glass of eggnog in hand.

“Somi?” You spoke, putting your hand on her shoulder to support her, as she was sort of stepping around (you were assuming she was drunk). “How much eggnog have you had tonight?”

“A f-few glasses, why d’you ask?” She slurred, looking at you with a goofy smile on her face.

“Because I’m pretty sure it’s spiked,” You explained, leading her over to an empty spot on a couch in the den. “Here babe, sit down.”

“I’m fine, (Y/N)! I feel great..” Somi continued, then fell to the side so that she now was sprawled across the couch.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Gosh, Somi.. You definitely drank more than a few glasses.”

“Yep.” She bluntly replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Your friend then walked up to you, and looked down at Somi, stifling a giggle. “Are you gonna take her home? She might just pass out on the couch at this rate.”

“Yeah, I might.. It’d probably be best.” You replied, and thanked your friend for the invite before picking Somi up from off the couch.

“Okay, listen, I can’t carry you so you’re going to have to help me a bit, alright?” You asked her, and she nodded exaggeratedly, putting her arm over your shoulder and taking a shaky step forward. This was going to be a long night.

-

Before long, you were both home safely. And after the feat of getting her into the house and to your bedroom, you were exhausted. Somi staggered over to the bed and fell face first into a pillow before you could even convince her to put some pajamas on. But you weren’t about to bother with coaxing her out of the bed once she was in it, so you just got ready for bed on your own, taking extra time to prep things for in the morning when Somi would undoubtedly wake up with a headache. You were just making sure Somi was actually under the covers when she turned over, mumbling a few sentences that were near-incoherent before you heard something that actually made sense.

“I love you.”

You smiled softly and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, whispering the same sweet words to her before turning the light off for the night.

                                 ɴᴏᴡ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ��ᴏɴꜱ

It’s finally time for us to open up for interactions, which means we are officially open !! At this time, the vote for an OOC Chat was overwhelmingly a NO so we will not be implementing one at this time. However, down the line, we may put up another poll and see if the consensus has changed at all. There is a one point difference concerning the poll over whether or not we should allow members to claim leader positions or whether they should be npc. An even is in the works, so our first even will be landing within a week or so, so keep an eye out for that !! Below the cut, there’s some information on locations and a bit of world-building in general !! Keep in mind, these are just some locations and in no way does it mean these are the only places that can be mentioned !!

THE LIONS DEN is a night club owned by the KINGS  a money laundering front for THE KINGS and it is a kings hangout location, therefore it is not neutral and any rules implemented must be followed by HELLCATS. KINGS will always get the benifit of the doubt, even if they’re in the wrong, so HELLCATS are entirely disadvantaged even when they’re in the right. LUCKIES is a bar owned by an older gentleman most know as “ Lucky ”. From the outside looking in, it doesn’t look like much -- but the inside it quite clean and spacious, and it stays open as long as someone is inside so it’s a good place to go to cool off and drink one’s misery away. It is entirely NEUTRAL as Lucky is good friends with both gangs leader’s, but couldn’t care less for gangs in general. He doesn’t have the brightest opinion on the members, but he likes money so he knows well enough to keep his mouth shut as long as he is being shown respect. He’s a man who is off the table and the leader’s have banned their members from messing with him, so those who do often get in a lot of trouble. Lucky isn’t someone to be underestimated despite his age, he’ll mess you up -- he’s an ex boxer and he is packing, so don’t attempt to pull a fast one on him. He hires KINGS and HELLCATS but fires them if problems arise, so pushing one’s luck is not wise. CLUB 66 is a night club owned by the HELLCATS  a money laundering front for THE HELLCATS and it is a kings hangout location, therefore it is not neutral and any rules implemented must be followed by KINGS. HELLCATS will always get the benefit of the doubt, even if they’re in the wrong, so KINGS are entirely disadvantaged even when they’re in the right. DAYLIGHT is a neutral psychic readings shop that doubles as a black market for both the HELLCATS and the KINGS. There have been many attempts to try and sway the woman to one side, however she’ll cheekily say it’s just no in the cards. Some believe she is the leader of this secret gang, but no one can actually prove it, all anyone knows is that she is fiercely protected and the last gang that tried to take her on no longer exists, and that says a lot. Although some believe her whole psychic ability is an act, others believe her and frequent her for readings. Whatever one might believe, she did predict that “kings will fall” and that “feeding stray cats will make them stick around.” However, she’s known to place bets on a person only for them to get last place, or close to last. OTHER PLACES include restaurants, arcades, theaters, book shops, random clubs and bars not affiliated or neutral, strip clubs, bakeries, grocery stores, “abandoned” warehouses, garages, empty parking lots, apartments, houses and really anything. Please let us admins know if your muse owns something and we’ll add it to the list !! We’ll be making a page for locations soon !!

Post starters whenever you’re ready !!

Please reply to starters as well !!

One of us admins will be reblogging ask meme !!  

We will allow memes, but only once a week and only one or two at a time !!

Again, if you have any questions feel free to message me and i’ll do my best to answer them !! Last but not least, have fun !!

in the den of monsters, pray

Admin Mawile: Aaaand the introduction is done! (๑´ㅂ`๑) I still sort of feel like I’m making a mistake by starting another fic, but ya’ll seem excited! I’m definitely having fun writing this, thus far! As established, this the beginning of a much longer Sub Au fic!

My main note for this part is that, unlike my usual, I had to give the reader a specified gender. It was tripping up the writing to try to make it completely neutral, unfortunately. Reader is female in this fic, but is otherwise left as vague as I can manage~

The intro here is pretty short (only a little under 3000 words), but I’m hoping further chapters will be better! I’ll be starting on someone’s route next, so please vote on whose I should choose, if you haven’t already. 

As always, questions and comments are very appreciated! <3

Fic below the cut!!

The taxi drives for what feels like hours.

Little by little, you get farther and farther from civilization. Sitting in a dark car, fabric seats soft underneath you, you can’t help but feel like you’re headed somewhere terrible. It doesn’t help that you can’t see the driver.

There’s a smell of something in the air that you imagine is blood, thick and metallic, organic and somehow wrong. Your stomach churns.

You’d been sent away for reasons that you didn’t know. Your best friend’s parents had tried to ship her off to somewhere unknown, and when you saw the poor girl broken down, sobbing in terror of the unknown, you’d stepped in. Volunteering to take a younger girl’s place, who-knows-where, probably wasn’t the best idea, but you were not going to sit and watch.

The look of fear in your friend’s eyes would haunt you for years. You never would have been able to live with yourself if you hadn’t stepped in, if you’d allowed someone you loved to be sent away so easily.

So you’d forced your way into her place. Her parents had looked at you like you were crazy. You’d set your jaw and refused to back down.

The taxi had arrived the next morning, windows dark.

After a long ride, you were more nervous than ever, but steeling yourself not to show it. Wherever you were going, you could only imagine that it would hurt you to show fear.

You’ve passed forests and towns, slowly getting smaller and smaller the longer you drive. It feels like you’re heading to the middle of nowhere, and you can only imagine what’s waiting for you in the end. You think of who could be here instead, and know that it’s better that it’s you.

Finally, the taxi comes to a stop. There’s a mansion outside, one that you’ve seen slowly approaching for a while now. It’s huge, dark walls towering above you like a fortress. It’s larger than any house you’ve ever seen, sprawling out to both sides, and you swallow heavily. You can’t imagine what sort of people live in a place so ornate.

But you step out of the taxi. You gather your things. You drag your suitcase up to the front steps as the car pulls away behind you.

You’re stranded now, you think, and almost laugh.

There’s a faint smell of roses in the air, you note, mixed with something dark and unfamiliar. A cool breeze wraps around you, and you shiver. It’s beautiful here, in away that feels almost unreal.

A knock to the door yields no response, and you stand outside for a few long moments, waiting for someone to answer. You’re positive that this is where you’re supposed to be, and you wonder if whoever brought you here is simply toying with you, seeing how you’re going to react.

As if in defiance, you push the door open yourself and step inside. You’re afraid, yes, but if you’re going to meet a horrible end here, it’ll at least be in a way that you can be proud of. You’re not going to cower.

The inside of the mansion is dark, and the air itself feels thick around you. There’s rich furniture everywhere you look, and the air smells dark and musty, like no one has lived there in decades. Somehow, there’s no dust to be found, and that sends a little spike of worry through you.

Someone is definitely here.

It only takes a few moments of wandering around to find an empty sitting room. Making a split-second decision, you roll your suitcase up to one chair and plop down in it. You’ll sit there until someone shows up.

There’s no point in aimlessly searching through a mansion ten times the size of any house you’ve ever been in for any signs of life.

If someone is there, they’ll find you soon enough.

In a few minutes, the creepy atmosphere of the mansion progresses to downright intimidating. It’s quiet, eerily so, with only a few ominous creaks and odd noises to break up the emptiness. You feel like telling yourself that it’s just the house settling, and almost laugh. You’re starting to sound like this is some kind of horror movie. For all you know, it is.

You close your eyes and think of your friend, sobbing and afraid. You have a reason to be here, and you’re not going to back down.

The chair under you is softer than anything you’ve felt. It feels rich in an almost unnatural way, like nothing you’ve ever touched. What kind of people live here? What kind of people have such nice things?

When you open your eyes, it’s to someone behind you.

You know without turning around that there’s someone there. You feel suddenly, abruptly watched, and your stomach sinks hard. The person appeared so suddenly, with no sound, and you can’t imagine anything human being able to move like that. Instead of panicking, though, you take a deep breath and force yourself to be calm, to stand up and turn around.

The man behind you is tall and slender. His dark hair falls in soft waves, and glasses barely conceal sharp eyes. He’s wearing a nice suit, and his posture is so straight it would make a ruler look crooked.

He’s frowning, a stern expression etched across his handsome face.

“How odd. I had expected our guest would be younger,” he says, low voice smooth and polite, with a hint of something sharp lurking in his tone.

You stand up straight and meet his eye, refusing to show the nerves you feel. “If your ‘guest’ is who I’m thinking of, I took her place. It was a last minute change,” you say, and your voice is thankfully even.

“Ah,” the man says, looking at you with cold eyes. “I see. So you’re not who we were planning for. Would you please tell me who you are?”

You introduce yourself, stating only your name. The man replies that he is Sakamaki Reiji, the second son of the household that you’ve been sent to stay in, and you don’t miss the carefully concealed disdain in his voice.

He tells you to gather your things, that he’ll have someone lead you to your room, that this situation will be dealt with later. Your hand goes white-knuckled around the handle of your suitcase. Reiji’s eyes are brighter than they should be, sharper, and you don’t like it.

Just as you’re about to follow him, though, a hand lands on your shoulder. You suppress a startled jerk only barely, and turn around.

It’s another young man, this time with wavy, auburn hair, a wicked smile on his lips, and a hat falling forward over his eyes. He’s leaning in close to you, uncomfortably so, and his hand is tight in your shoulder.

“Hmm? So this is who’s been sent to us?” he asks, tone mocking and light. “What a pretty face. . . but such a cold expression. How about you smile a little bit, Bitch-chan? You’d look cuter if you did~”

Whatever uncertainty you’d had drops like a stone. He’s making fun of you, you can tell, and it’s only a vague feeling of dread that keeps you from biting back something cruel. There’s a dark aura about this boy, something you can feel in the air, and you don’t want to press at something dangerous.

Instead, you turn around, intending to follow Reiji to your room.

. . . and come face to face with another one of them.

This time it’s a small boy, all soft cheeks and impossibly wide eyes. He’s clutching a toy to his chest, and is dressed like a child.

You take a step back, startled, and the boy smiles like he’s a cat eyeing a bird with a broken wing. “Teddy. . . We have someone new to play with,” he mumbles, squeezing the bear to his chest. “We’ll have to break her properly, won’t we? Won’t that be oh-so fun?”

It’s not a good sign. The boy seems unhinged, and you don’t like the predatory gaze he’s eyeing you with. It’s downright impressive that a person so small could be so intimidating, but you don’t want to find out why.

“Shut up! The new prey is mine,” a third voice chimes in, and you spin around to see yet another of them waiting for you.

This boy has a face like the auburn-haired one, but a cocky expression and blood red hair. He grabs you by the shoulders, pulls you towards him like it’s nothing, and leans in much too close for comfort.

“Yuck, she’s old,” he whines, making a sour expression. “Smells good, though. I wonder what you’re gonna taste like,” he laughs. “I bet you’re sweeter than you look. . . but there’s one way to find out.” He leans in so close you can feel his breath on your neck, and you barely resist struggling.

Somehow, you feel like fighting back would be a death sentence.

“Ayato, if you must persist with such behavior, do it in privacy, please,” Reiji interrupts, and the redhead freezes in place.

You think, for a moment, that he’s going to do something to you anyway, but instead, he pulls away with a glare, scoffing angrily. One of the others snickers, sounding amused. You force down something like terror.

Despite all instincts saying otherwise, you hold still. You already have a feeling that fighting back will just get you in more trouble. You hold yourself tall, breathing even, and doing everything possible to stay calm. Whatever happens, it won’t help you in the slightest if you panic.

“Impressive,” a new voice says, and you feel a headache coming on. How many of these boys are there? “She’s staying pretty calm.”

Reiji stiffens immediately, you note, making a face like he’s eaten something rotten. The other three are still circling you, eyeing you with what’s worryingly close to predatory intent.

There’s a blonde man stretched out on a couch a short ways away. You’re positive that he wasn’t there a moment ago.

Something is starting to feel increasingly wrong.

“What?” the blonde says, letting his eyes slip shut. “This is my home too, Reiji. I can say what I want to.” His tone is bitter and slow.

“Perhaps, but you can also know when to keep your mouth shut,” Reiji replies cooly, and you can already see that there is some hatred between them, some rivalry. Reiji did mention that he was the second son.

Another couple lines are exchanged, the boys’ voices going low with barely disguised anger. The redhead gives a bitter little laugh from behind you, and the small one clutches his toy close to his chest. You’re starting to get a headache from keeping track of all of them, and in almost the exact moment you think that, a sixth voice joins the argument.

“What the hell is all the noise for?” an even younger boy snaps from across the room. His hair is dove white, and he looks strong, even though you can see a youth in his features that betrays his age.

“We’re deciding what to do with our little guest here~,” the auburn haired one says, and gives you a little shove. He’s stronger than he looks.

“Yeah, and Reiji’s being boring about it,” the redhead adds, crossing his arms in a childish motion and leering at you with sharp eyes.

“Perhaps Subaru wanted a taste,” the small one murmurs, a note of something mocking in his voice. “Perhaps he thinks he’ll win her over by being her knight in shining armor. What do you think, Teddy?

The strong boy’s fist splits the wood of the nearby staircase.

It takes considerable effort not to react outwardly. You’ve already figured out that letting anything slip is a bad idea around these boys, but that, that simply wasn’t human.

The pieces fall together quickly in your head. A massive mansion in the middle of nowhere. Six beautiful young men who look at you like they want to swallow you whole. A boy strong enough to crush solid wood like it was paper. The mysterious circumstances under which you were sent to the mansion to begin with, the utter lack of information on it all.

You weren’t among humans anymore.

Somehow, though, that eased some of your fear. Humans who could act like this were one thing. Monsters stuffed into pretty skins were another.

You would at least know what to expect from the monsters.

So you stood still, allowed the boys to keep bickering. Their vicious comments flew over your head easily now that you knew the truth, their too bright eyes on you no longer giving you the same chills.

Somehow, you had the feeling that they wouldn’t kill you. If they’d wanted to, it would have been easier to do it from the start, after all.

If they’d wanted you dead, you wouldn’t still be standing.

Your fear was fading fast, replaced with a sense of resignation and mild interest. If you were the sort of person who would volunteer to be sent somewhere like this in the first place, you could withstand what happened.

After a few moments, the arguments died down. Their eyes fixed on you one by one, a strange atmosphere filling the room.

“. . . she’s not afraid anymore,” Ayato, as you’d picked out that his name was, said. His pretty green eyes stared at you like you’d grown a second head. He shifted position a bit, almost defensive.

“Teddy, why isn’t she more worried? Doesn’t she know that we’re going to hurt her,” the small one, Kanato said with a low voice.

All you saw was an empty threat, a boy trying to frighten what he saw as below him. He probably would hurt you. That didn’t mean you were going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you shake before him.

There was suddenly a great imbalance in the room. Now that you were calm, now that you were looking carefully, you could see the obvious discord between the brothers. Now that you were calm, you could see all of them eyeing you with something like curiosity mixed with uncertainty.

You imagined that few people hadn’t cowered from them.

“I think it’s time our guest is shown to her room.” Reiji broke the silence, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

He went through a quick introduction of who was who, and you nodded along, already having caught onto everyone’s names. The boys were still staring, some cold unreadable feeling thick in their eyes.

You were just about to follow Reiji to where you would be staying when Laito said something, sing-song voice filled with threat.

“Bitch-chan is awfully relaxed for being stuck in a house of vampires,”

You could see in his eyes that he was expecting you to panic.

Instead, you looked him dead in the eye, smiling politely. “Ah, so that’s what you are. Thank you for telling me; I’ll know what to expect, now.” You knew better than to fight, but you weren’t going to be afraid.

For just an instant, you see a flash of something furious in Laito’s eyes. Instead of scaring you, it shows you that he can feel.

Already, you’re getting an impression of what these boys are like. They fight amongst each other, every one of them puffed up with ego. Like any teenage boys, they’re immature and selfish, but with supernatural abilities, they think that they hold some special place in the world. You can expect them to be cruel, you think, you can expect pain.

When you think of someone you love being in your place, you don’t wish for a second that you wouldn’t have chosen this path.

It’s easy to follow Reiji, easier yet to catch the way he’s glaring at you. He leads you through a series of hallways with no words, and you stand tall with every step. The mansion doesn’t scare you anymore.

Your room is pink and pretty, something clearly intended for a girl much younger than yourself. That alone makes you almost angry.

The idea of someone small and frightened being locked up here with the monsters makes you wish you could get away with punching one of them in the face. They have no right to prey on those who can’t fight back.

Instead, you put your things away, and sit down on the bed.

It’s soft beneath you, and you run your fingers over the silky blankets. Your stay here is sure to be an experience. You may never leave.

That thought doesn’t scare you nearly as much as is probably should.

Tlc Window Cleaning, Energy Washing And Gutter Cleaning

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