Masterlist

Books for beginners

L'Etranger - Albert Camus, 1942

Aujourd'hui, maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas. J'ai reçu un télégramme de l'asile : « Mère décédée. Enterrement demain. Sentiments distingués. » Cela ne veut rien dire. C'était peut-être hier. L'asile de vieillards est à Marengo, à quatre-vingts kilomètres d'Alger. Je prendrai l'autobus à deux heures et j'arriverai dans l'après-midi. Ainsi, je pourrai veiller et je rentrerai demain soir.

*

Le Petit Prince - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, 1943

Lorsque j'avais six ans j'ai vu, une fois, une magnifique image, dans un livre sur la Forêt Vierge qui s'appelait "Histoires Vécues". Ça représentait un serpent boa qui avalait un fauve. Voilà la copie du dessin. On disait dans le livre :"Les serpents boas avalent leur proie tout entière, sans la mâcher. Ensuite ils ne peuvent plus bouger et ils dorment pendant les six mois de leur digestion."

*

Candide - Voltaire, 1759

Il y avait en Westphalie, dans le château de M. le baron de Thunder-ten-tronckh, un jeune garçon à qui la nature avait donné les mœurs les plus douces. Sa physionomie annonçait son âme. Il avait le jugement assez droit, avec l'esprit le plus simple; c'est, je crois, pour cette raison qu'on le nommait Candide. Les anciens domestiques de la maison soupçonnaient qu'il était fils de la sœur de monsieur le baron et d'un bon et honnête gentilhomme du voisinage, que cette demoiselle ne voulut jamais épouser parce qu'il n'avait pu prouver que soixante et onze quartiers, et que le reste de son arbre généalogique avait été perdu par l'injure du temps.

*

Sept jours pour une éternité - Marc Lévy, 2007 (slushy)

Allongé sur son lit, Lucas regarda la petite diode de son beeper qui clignotait frénétiquement. Il referma son livre et le posa juste à côté de lui, ravi. C'était la troisième fois en quarante-huit heures qu'il relisait cette histoire et de mémoire d'enfer aucune lecture ne l'avait autant régalé. Il caressa la couverture du bout du doigt. Ce dénommé Hilton était en passe de devenir son auteur culte.

*

La Belle et la Bête - Jeanne de Beaumont, 1757 (tale)

Il y avait une fois un marchand qui était extrêmement riche ; il avait six enfants, trois garçons et trois filles, et, comme ce marchand était un homme d’esprit, il n’épargna rien pour l’éducation de ses enfants et leur donna toutes sortes de maîtres. Ses filles étaient très belles, mais la cadette surtout se faisait admirer, et on ne l’appelait, quand elle était petite, que la Belle Enfant, en sorte que le nom lui en resta, ce qui donna beaucoup de jalousie à ses sœurs.

*

Barbe-bleue - Charles Perrault, 1697 (tale)

Il était une fois un homme qui avait de belles maisons à la ville et à la campagne, de la vaisselle d’or et d’argent, des meubles en broderie, des carrosses tout dorés. Mais, par malheur, cet homme avait la barbe bleue : cela le rendait si laid et si terrible, qu’il n’était ni femme ni fille qui ne s’enfuît de devant lui. Une de ses voisines, dame de qualité, avait deux filles parfaitement belles. Il lui en demanda une en mariage, en lui laissant le choix de celle qu’elle voudrait lui donner.

*

La Cantatrice chauve - Eugène Ionesco, 1950 (absurd)

SCÈNE I

Intérieur bourgeois anglais, avec des fauteuils anglais. Soirée anglaise. M. SMITH, Anglais, dans son fauteuil et ses pantoufles anglais, fume sa pipe anglaise et lit un journal anglais, près d’un feu anglais. Il a des lunettes anglaises, une petite moustache grise, anglaise. À côté de lui, dans un autre fauteuil anglais, Mme SMITH, Anglaise, raccommode des chaussettes anglaises. Un long moment de silence anglais. La pendule anglaise frappe dix-sept coups anglais.

Mme. SMITH

Tiens, il est neuf heures. Nous avons mangé de la soupe, du poisson, des pommes de terre au lard, de la salade anglaise. Les enfants ont bu de l’eau anglaise. Nous avons bien mangé, ce soir. C’est parce que nous habitons dans les environs de Londres et que notre nom est SMITH.

The intimacy of someone being sure about you

Part 73 of my bakery “enemies” au!

It’s back!

First / Prev / Next / All

Billy and the mindflayer

finished an older drawing of miles for a print! I love one sunny boy ;v;

WCS Favorite Ongoing Series of 2017

As to try not to show favoritism, I am going to list this diplomatically, aka, in alphabetical order :)

Believe It Or Not (Stiles x Reader/TW Re-Write) - @officialmccall

The should be canon rewrite of Teen Wolf with the twist of ‘if Scott had a sister that Stiles was in love with.’, where each chapter is an episode of Teen Wolf.

The Bluff (Mitch x Reader) - @wittystiles

Mitch Rapp is a highly trained CIA opperative. And a huge pain in the organizations ass. As a member of the elite (and unknown) Orion Team, Mitch causes quite the headache for CIA Assistant Director, Irene Kennedy and his trainer Stan Hurley. The two have decided things must change, and Mitch must be calmed down. With the help of Y/n, they hope they have things figured out.

The Color of My World (Soulmate!Stiles x Reader/OFC) - @minhosmeanhoe

Soulmate AU where for your entire life you’ve only ever seen black and white, until you receive the first touch from your soulmate and color blooms before your very eyes. But, what would you do if you found out your soulmate was the one person your current boyfriend hates the most in this world?

Complications (Stiles x Reader) - @fillthevoid-stilinski

A series of complications come about when Stiles, a man that has been your best friend for years, realizes he’s in love with you. He just can’t manage to get the words out of his mouth.

Driven Motive (Mitch x Reader/OFC) - @lovefilledtragedy

Y/N has had a lot happen in her life, and after gaining the attention of Irene Kennedy, she is soon about to meet someone who is more similar to her than anyone else.

It’s Just A Word (Soulmate x Reader) - @sumcp

Y/N gets to start her senior year at a new school, halfway around the country, since her dad decided to move back to his hometown and accept an opening at the Sheriff’s office. Although he assured her the move was going to be good for them, Y/N isn’t so sure. Meanwhile, Stiles is still sulking about his breakup with Malia, although he can’t really be mad. It wasn’t her fault she met her soulmate, but it just made Stiles hate the idea even more. On the first day of Senior Year at Beacon Hills High Y/N has an interesting story to tell her dad when she gets the pleasure of meeting his boss’s son first hand.

Kara Sevda (Fuckboy!Stiles x Reader/OFC) - @fes-sa

Y/n is Stiles Stilinski’s best friend, who also happens to be slightly in love with him. Stiles is Beacon Hill’s resident fuckboy. One night and three words change everything for both of them.

Puppy Love (Stiles x OFC) - @dumbass-stilinski

Stiles has arguably loved Taylor since the day she moved in to the house next door. Taylor has arguably loved Stiles just as long. The story of them growing up and growing in their love for one another becomes one for the ages.

Selfish (CEO Rival!Stiles x Reader) - @honeymoonmuke

Stiles Stilinski. Talkative, annoying, and infuriatingly attractive. It was easy to hate him, but it was even easier to fuck him. - You were told not to fraternise with the enemy, but when he had a mind rich with thoughts and a body sculpted by the gods, well…who could blame you? Was it always so wrong to be selfish?

Three For One Deal (Stilinski!Triplets x Reader) - @stilinskiimagines

Y/n has been friends with the Stilinski boys, Stiles, Thomas, and Stuart since childhood. When the fourth Stilinski boy returns home unexpectedly, and Y/n connects with a shadowy character, the implications are painful and lasting. 

We Don’t Believe What’s On TV (Stiles x Reader) - @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

You live a normal life, as a normal person, with Teen Wolf as your favorite TV show, and Stiles Stilinski as your favorite character, until one night, you wake up in Beacon Hills, at the beginning of Season 3A, with the inability to tell any of your favorite characters your secret, but the desire to save your favorite characters from their gloomy fates. 

1970 | queen (part 1)

Summary: After working at a record store and discovering a record player that can transport you back in time, you find yourself in London of 1970. After scrambling to get back, you realize that something has gone terribly wrong with an infamous band, and you are the only one who can fix it.

Author’s Note: The beginning is very rushed (this whole chapter) only because I have big plans for the next couple of chapters. Please give feedback if you want this series to continue - it’s my first Queen work.

“They always say that time changes things, but actually you have to change them yourself.” - Andy Warhol (1975)

You worked at a record store in an old London strip, sandwiched between an ice cream shop and a children’s boutique. The building had been there for more then fifty years, according to the owner, and anyone who got close enough to look at it could tell. The concrete outside was stained with age, and the paint on the inside was beginning to peel. The man who ran the store knew of these things since you and your co-worker had begun to more frequently make remarks about the damages, but he would only shake his head with a smile and remark, “It makes it more authentic - a little more magical, don’t you think?”

With its dingy carpet floors and flickering sign, you didn’t understand how he could find anything magical about that store. It smelled of old paper and coffee, occasionally hosting the scent of a Bath and Body Works candle if you remembered to bring it. The cases for the vinyls were ridden with dust, and there was always Queen playing from a record player in the back corner of the store. It always played the same album: A Night At The Opera. You didn’t mind, since you had been a fan of Queen since you were little. Growing up, your dad would play it almost 24/7, and you grew to love the band and their music. No one dare change the album, and it’s been rumored that the same record has been playing for years straight; which, you must point out, is highly illogical. No vinyl record could play for that long without becoming damaged and scratched, especially if nobody has tried to take care of it.

It was a rainy Saturday when the owner, Mr. Jay as you called him, decided to stop by. He leaned against the register counter and cleaned his glasses with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket. “How’s everything going?” He asked, smiling. He was a short man with a semi-full figure. He had thick salt and pepper hair that dragged down into stubble along his jaw. He wore jeans, a plain white t-shirt and an olive green bomber jacket that stored a variety of items in its pockets: altoids, kleenex, money, you name it.

“Slow,” You said honestly. You were making your rounds of all the records, checking to be sure they were all in the right place: sorted by date. Your co-worker, Gabriel, let out a breathy laugh and kept scrolling on his phone.

Mr. Jay looked over to him with a sad smile, and then focused back down to his glasses. You began to feel guilty; you knew how much this shop meant to him. Who were you to talk about this man’s possessions like you were? You were a college student in need of a summer job that paid well so you could get your car radio fixed. Before you could speak up to apologize, or atleast end on a happier note, he spoke up, “It always is.”

He lifted his glasses up to the dim light to check for smudges and squinted. Dull thunder rolled in the background as a gentle shower of rain began to fall, hitting the tin roof above and echoing throughout the store. He slipped the clear-rimmed spectacles back on and sighed, strolling towards the isles of records. He dragged his finger tips along the top of them, stopping under the “1960’s” section. He pulled out a Beatles’ album and examined it. “Did you know there’s a conspiracy that Paul McCartney is dead?” He asked. You shook your head and he laughed, “It’s silly, it really is. Many believe that this,” He turned the revord to show the popular Sgt. Pepper’s Lonley Hearts Club Band album cover. “Depicts his funeral. There’s a left handed guitar made of flowers down in the corner, but It really could be a right handed one flipped the other way.” He continued to mumble on about the theory for a few more moments until he stopped and looked up at the two of you, who were both staring at him awkwardly. He slipped the album back into its slot and took a deep breath, “Well I guess it’s my time to leave.”

He took several large strides and picked up his hat and phone off of the counter. “Have a good one,” He called out as he slipped out the door. You both stood silent as you watched him pull out of his parking space and drive out of eyesight. It was always a weird, somewhat sympathetic, feeling after he left. Neither of you didn’t really know what to do. You stood and fiddled with the belt loop on your jeans.

“He’s an odd man,” Gabriel spoke quietly. You nodded. “Gives me weird vibes; like he’s seen way too many things. Did you see the way he spoke about that conspiracy? It was like he was genuinely amused, like he was the one who created it or something.”

“He’s just different,” You said, “I don’t think he means any harm.”

Gabriel shook his head with wide eyes. “I don’t know Y/N. Something isn’t right about that guy. He came in here to do what? Be a spokesman for the “Paul McCarney Is Dead” club?” He shuddered.

You didn’t say anything. Brushing off any questions you had about Mr. Jay, you continued to do your album sweep. By the time you had reached the 1970’s, the song playing from the record player began to skip. You waited a moment for the skip to pass, but it just kept going. Already agitated from the creeping day, you stormed over to the old machine and stared at it for a moment. The spinning Queen logo made you dizzy. The player was covered in dust, and it was clear to you that nobody had touched it for a long while. You blew on it first, and then reached for the tonearm to fix it.

As soon as your fingertips touched the arm, you felt yourself being thrown from the record player. It was as if you were in a plane during takeoff: insane amounts of pressure were building on you, squeezing your body and twisting it in jerking motions. Your head felt as though it would crack and explode in any moment, and you squeezed your eyes tighter than they ever had been before to avoid seeing your insides being blown out. Before you could fully slip out of consciousness, you felt your feet firmly on the ground again. You stood still as your hearing began to come back, keeping your eyes still closed tightly shut. It wasn’t before you heard the commotion of voices that you decided to open them.

You were standing in the same place you had been: next to the record player that was sitting on the wooden stool. Except for this time, the player was brand new, and the music that was playing wasn’t queen; it was “Hey Jude” by The Beatles. You took a few moments to stand there, trying to calm the pounding headache in your head and figure out what in the world had just happened. Maybe I blacked out, you thought, or maybe I’m dead. Is this Heaven? Kind of dissapointing. You shook the thoughts out of your head and tried to stable your shaking body. It took a few moments for you to realize that you weren’t alone, so you slowly turned around and caught your breath. There was atleast thirty people in the record shop, browsing through the albums and talking amongst themselves. You couldn’t hear much since you were standing right next to the speaker, but something wasn’t right. The shop was lively and colorful, and Gabriel was nowhere to be found. Okay, this has to be Heaven, you convinced yourself, Where else would there be this many people in here? This has to be a dream.

A voice pulled you back into reality. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

You jumped and turned to your left to see a girl who looked about your age. Her hair was short and feathered, and she wore a long patterned skirt with a purple blouse. Her teeth were shining white and perfectly straight, and you could tell she wore a thin layer of lip gloss. She resembled Princess Diana when she was alive. “No,” You croaked, “Just looking around.”

“No problem, just let me know if you need anything. My name’s Michelle,” She said as she smiled. She turned to walk away.

“Thanks,” You hesitantly said. Nobody seemed to care that you were there; like you had been there all along. Realizing that you couldn’t stand there and people watch for forever, you took a deep breath and went to walk outside. You needed to figure out what was going on, and where exactly you were.

You wobbled at the first step, and it was more than just uneasy legs. Looking down, you realized you weren’t in your jeans and sweatshirt anymore. You were wearing tight, bell bottomed baby blue pants and a blue ruffled blouse. You wore white boots with a slight heel and quickly realizing something was seriously different, you frantically grabbed for your hair and realized it was long and straight, down below your shoulders. It wasn’t like that before. You were beggining to panic, and rushed out the door as fast as you could. You brushed past employees and young children cradling vinyl records, offering quiet apologizes as you did.

Once you busted through the doors and onto the street, you were taken aback. The streets were full of life. People passed you and offered friendly smiles. The smell of cigarette smoke and burnt rubber filled the air, along with hairspray whenever a girl walked by. Men’s hair was slicked back with gel to resemble Elvis and the women on their arms wore patterned dresses and jumpsuits with their hair up in high ponytails or curled. This definitely wasn’t 2019.

Looking around, you spotted a boy who looked around your age standing by a wooden post. He was fumbling tape on one hand and a small poster in the other, and eventually turned his back to you to apply the poster to the pole. You scurried over to him, still getting used to your shoes, and called out, “Hey!”

He quickly flashed his head around to you and paused what he was doing. He has slightly shaggy blond hair with big blue eyes. Slight bangs were hanging in front of his eyes, but as you got closer he brushed them out of the way. He wore tight pants and Lou Brock Converse, with a long, tan trench coat that was partly buttoned up. “Yes?” He said, lowering his arms.

You eyed the poster in his hands. “Could I have that?” You asked slightly out of breath.

He widened his eyes a little at your question, but gave you a quick look up and down and cautiously handed it to you. “Sure,” He said, biting his lip. “Are you interested in coming?” He asked eagerly.

“Um,” You faltered. Coming to what? You didn’t even know what decade you were in. Quickly scanning the paper, the headline “SMILE - MUSICAL PERFORMANCE” caught your eye. “Yes, actually. I’m new around here, and I was, uh, looking for something to do.”

The blond boy smiled. “Well, I hope we see you there,” He exclaimed. Giving you a smile, he turned and began to walk away. “I play drums, by the way!” He called.

You looked up and laughed a little. He blushed and swiveled around once more, this time not turning back. You immediately looked back down at the paper and searched it for any type of date. The only thing you got was June 2, not any year. Sighing, you slowly began to turn the other way to start heading back. You didn’t look up from the flier in your hand, your mind and heart still rushing from adrenaline, and before you knew it you had run right into somebody. You bounced off of each other quite aggressively, and instant apologies started spewing from both of your mouths. The boy you had ran into reached out for your arm to balance you. “I’m so sorry,” He said.

“No, no, don’t apologize! I wasn’t paying any attention to where I was going,” You admitted, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You both chuckled a little bit and looked down at your shoes. He picked at the ends of his long black hair and gave one last apology before walking away. You took a few steps but turned to watch him. He walked up to the wooden telephone pole and scanned the posters taped to it. He definitely was looking for something.

What was happening to you didn’t feel real; everyone you walked past or bumped into you felt like an illusion, even though you could touch them. It was like you were stepping into a movie. How did you get here? Where even were you? It’s like you were in a different dimension - a different chapter with the same setting.

You blinked a few times to get out of your trance and began looking for a new source to get the date. You would look insane if you asked somebody for the year, and Converse boy’s poster didn’t help very much. Slowly spinning around, a newspaper stand a few yards away seemed to glisten. You quickly made your way over, folding up the band flier in quarters as you did. Grabbing The Times off the stack, you read the headline: “D-Day for Europe as Dutch Vote”. You quickly scanned the small writing for any sort of date and by the grace of the Heavens, the year was finally printed before your eyes.

June 2, 1970.

Pennywise: Thats it! You’re all grounded! Richie no videogames for you! Eddie no Richie for you! Beverly no smoking for you! Ben no poems for you! Bill no- oh my god is there anything that you love?

Bill: Revenge

Pennywise: well uh- no revenge for you!

Bill: I was gonna say “I’ll get you for this” but I guess thats just off the table now is it

Your Decent Into Hell

I wanted to do this for a long time. a fic rec of our decent into hell for all our sins. so enjoy your decent miraculours :D

SAFE HEAVEN

Anything for a friend by babycougar Adrien would love it if fangirls left him alone for once in his life, but he knows that this will likely be a problem for as long as he’s single. Nino comes up with a potentially genius plan: just pretend to date a kindhearted classmate, and the problem will go away! Aka Adrien is oblivious and Marinette is too nice for her own good.

Mon dieu by Mooncactus “Kiss me, quick!"Not the words Marinette expects to hear from Adrien Agreste, especially especially prefaced with "I’ll make it up to you and explain it all later."But a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.

It’s complicated by konekat Chat Noir wants to confess to Ladybug. Marinette wants to confess to Adrien. Somehow, things just keep spiraling out of control instead.

Five steps by eLJay It doesn’t take much for Chat Noir to fall for Marinette.

the person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger by asterbells He used Cataclysm, and the furthest his memory reaches is when he was sitting on top of Ladybug, likely to have been pinning her down.The pieces push together into a picture he doesn’t want to see.His pencil falls with a clatter against the table.

Someone to hold on to by Chebitz Chat Noir finds himself looking for comfort in places more likely than he’d think.

Honesty by panda013 (Amiria_Raven) “Well, if I’m wonderful,” he started, a teasing lilt in his voice causing her to look up and give him the ‘kitty don’t you dare’ look he so adored. His grin grew wider and he finished, “then you must be purrty Miraculous, don’t you think?”His honesty had given them this chance, and she would forever love that earnest part of him.

GOD WILL LET THIS ONE PASS

heartstrings by taylortot one of marinette’s rare unlucky days turns into something treacherous. thanks to a certain cat, the real danger passes, but there are other things to be more afraid of. her heart, for example, might be one of them.

Gently Into The Night by Lady_Lombax Even heroes need a pick me up sometimes. For Chat Noir, a certain Princess is just the remedy.

In Sickness and In Health by kali_asleep It’s not everyday you see a girl passed out on a roof in the middle of the night. But when that girl is a certain Marinette Dupain-Cheng, well, there’s not much else Chat Noir can do but help her, right?

YOU CAN STILL REPENT

Obsession by KryallaOrchid was meant to be only once but Marinette and her magic hands keep drawing him back. He can’t get enough.

Sunlight, Firelight, Starlight by AdJiT Adrien knows he shouldn’t do it. Adrien knows that there will be consequences to this action and Adrien knows this is probably a bad idea but Adrien is not here on this rooftop, Chat is, and Chat is tired of staring up at the girl who hung the moon and wishing, and every fiber of his being is telling him to leave that behind and take the chance to do something with someone who is with him, on his level. So he does.

Months Later by Inkkerfuffle somehow, this whole secret dating thing was working out just fine. It had been a couple of months, and they’d been working on getting to know each other and figuring out just how they worked together. There were some dates, but as far as school was concerned, the game was ‘how many kisses can one sneak upon the other’. And so far, the answer was plenty.In which there is secret dating, formal events and creepy classmates.Series

FORGIVE ME FATHER FOR I HAVE SINNED

That thing you do by mercy_angel_09 There were two possibilities for how this could end:1) Their friendship would be stronger than everor2) She’d never be able to look him in the eye again.He was willing to bet on the latter. (Or, the one where an akuma shoves Ladybug and Chat Noir into a tiny utility closet while it goes on its roaring rampage of revenge, and things get a little hard between them.)

It Had To Be You by mercy_angel_09 Sometimes the person you’re looking for has been right in front of you the whole time.Like. Literally. Five years you two idiots wasted. (putting it here cuz it’s sin yet sweet sooo)

The Ladybugs and The Bees by BullySquadess The Miraculous Ladybug and Chat Noir have survived many things together. Monsters, curses, hoards of pigeons…they’ve seen it all. But how will they handle one of life’s biggest challenges? ((What started as an awkward little puberty fic has slowly morphed into LadyNoir SIN))

Sin by BroadwayyyBabyy Just. Sin. (PURE SIN OMG)

I’M IN HELL…(WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED)

Dance in the dark by MisterDoctorProfessorPatrick Chat Noir decides to pay his princess a visit, but since black cats are hard to see in the dark, he overhears a little more than he might have expected.

Puppeteer by clairelutra (exosolarmoon) i don’t bite, but i heard you might so let me feed your appetiteChat Noir pays his princess a visit. (you sin more every chapter you read)

There is SOOO MUCH MORE but i couldn’t possibly put everything here cuz i also haven’t read everything…yet

ENJOY

⭑ tom riddle.

observations [i] [ii] 18+

you've been going to hogwarts for four months, and find this whole school-wide obsession with tom riddle a little bit ridiculous, and a little bit contrived. surely not all the rumours are true... (11.4k words)

patience, please, and thank you 18+

you and tom have always sought to best one another in school. it doesn’t help that upon graduating, you work for opposing shops. (6.4k words)

your kitchen table

tom hates summer. fortunately, he loves you. (1.4k words)

for the love that used to be here 18+

you and tom are the only muggle-borns in slytherin, until one day he isn’t. (21.8k words)

sunlight parallel pseudostars

your reunion is long overdue for the small thing it should be, sacred for the dingy place it finds you, and most consequentially, entirely on purpose. (4.9k words)

life of the party 18+

when one game is ruined, another begins. (4.5k words)

⭑ long fics.

paper confines

horcrux magic, forced proximity, friends to enemies to something worse than lovers, lesbians (!) who are not background characters, ‘help my moral compass broke’, angst, heisting, celtic mythology. ongoing. (136k)

available on ao3 & wattpad.

grey caladrius 18+

triwizard tournament, university au, runes, slavic & greek mythology, worldbuilding, war, angst, eventual smut, unhinged characters, cultism, ‘help i didn’t have a moral compass in the first place and now i need one’, trauma & healing. new. (1.5k)

available on wattpad. (ao3 soon!)

⭑ draco malfoy.

made with love

it's winter, you’re sick, and draco is extremely rational a terrible, doting mess about it. (1.6k words)

leave me a request!