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date night with mr. space and we are going to see Weapons and then going to our favorite ratshack dive bar for a nightcap!!! i am already a little winedrunk and my tits look otherworldly so i am forseeing something perverted in my future ♡

also our 6th wedding anniversary is this Sunday hehe

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Bolt the horse is absolutely juicy 🙏

Im very fond of dani and I love the way you write her and rust

wahhhh thank you! I cherish Dani, she’s the first OC to make it out into the world since I was a wee one on forums many years ago. I’m always pleased when people express a fondness for her, because that’s exactly what I feel! She’s someone I could imagine as a kid sister of mine, wrapped in her own little world and wanting to be loved For Real.

Thank you for reading ♡

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⟡ FORLORN KISMET, LONE COMETS ⟡

. ✦˚ . ⋆. .　 ˚ * ⟡. . .˚　  .

Chapter 1: Things Can Seem So Safe and Sure

(Full chapter readable on AO3 <3)

Inevitability.

The ugliest word Freddie had known in her whole life. Like something slippery and fast.

The asphalt had narrowed and turned into sand, mushy and splattering from the humidity. The vegetation around was low but dense, the endless fields reaching the furthest point of the horizon, if it wasn’t veiled by the dark. Freddie found her hands shaking and her breath hitching up in her throat.

“Not now”, she whispered, a plea to the night.

Freddie rose up to breathe in the fresh darkness, bloodshot in its bright smell. The foliage covered her to her waist. Sugarcane, she realized somewhere under her panic. She pressed her palms to her knees and let herself bend towards the ground.

. ✦˚ . ⋆. .　 ˚ * ⟡. . .˚　  .

In January 1995 Detective Rustin Cohle meets Winifred Sellick, a theology student called in to give out an assisting dictum in the latest "ritual occult murder" case for the Louisiana State CID. She ends up turning his hunger and haunt inside out and through the years they collide into each other over and over and over again.

. ✦˚ . ⋆. .　 ˚ * ⟡. . .˚　  .

Hi! A month ago I published the first chapter of my fic! <3

It’s a dark and gloomy and angsty and all things True Detective. It has the slowest of burns with bunch of deep engraved symbolism and theological and philosophical discussions (tbh kinda working as a seven year long foreplay lmao like Rust and Freddie get a grip). The characters are dealing with grief, addiction, trauma, lack of agency and autonomy, identity issues and with the fact that nothing seems to be ever over.

I really tried to match Rust with someone as smart and frantic and tormented as him. He's a father without a daughter and she's a daughter without a father, but they both also ended up being queer and yearning and terrified of love and weird about sex, so I guess it's going to be fun.

Hope you enjoy!

<3, mothy

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Dan Estabrook, Nine Symptoms, 2004

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vintage stamps

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transferring alllllllll of my many google docs over to scrivener bc i cannot bear the possibility of my works being scraped for AI bullshit and the thing i may miss most is sharing things with mads and seeing her comments :(

how will we screech about rust and dani if we can’t both be commenting on a chapter at the same time 😔

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maaAAAAADDDDSssSsssSSssss i’m going to bust through the roof of this building and into the atmosphere

fuck it i’m eroticizing rejection instead

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there’s a giant Arabesque Orbweaver outside my work we have named Ophelia and i have fallen for her. she’s the leader of the cult now

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Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Boris Pasternak featured in Letters, Summer 1926

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rust cohle 🍻

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visiting mads this weekend made me realize my ideal role in life is to be a little pet person who just like. lives in my favorite couple’s house and hangs out. takes care of the plants and animals. texts you at work to be like “saw a bird lol.” makes dinner and does the washing up. then gets a little kissy before getting tucked into bed.

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Ahh this is so truee

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i do not believe in labubus or their cause

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John Price X babysitter!reader 18+

Free use, open relationship (not between MC’s), oral, sexual content

This one should have stayed in the drafts but whateves.

But imagine John and his wife being perfectly amicable co-habitators, co-parents, best friends, who are in an open relationship where she can have her toys and he could have his—

So when she hires you just a few weeks before he comes back from deployment to babysit their two twin boys of about 5, you sorta-kinda don’t know that you are a welcome back present for her husband.

Like at the start you feel guilty when you find yourself attracted to John, a married man, the father of the kids you babysit, almost two decades older to you—and you try to contain your attraction to him to just little glances—

But then things slowly start getting weird, like his lingering heavy lidded gazes devolve into touches—(lower back, the nape of your neck, the curve of your waist) —devolve into that one night where after you put the kids to bed he eats your little cunt till you are a crying blubbering mess, fingers shoved in your mouth to keep you quiet.

And it’s just a one time thing, a slip up—and you cannot do it to mrs Price because she’s a sweetheart , but there are little things you notice (separate bedrooms, separate lives) but it’s still wrong and you are determined to not slip up again, but it happens again and again and again—

— “need to taste you again baby” , and you spread your legs like a good girl, and let him lap at your cunt as long as he wants.

— you in his office, you on his lap, fingers buried in your cunt before he coaxes you to let hin slip his cock inside of you —and bounce you on his lap like a doll.

—in his bed that one sunny afternoon after you and the kids return from the pool exhausted—and somehow you end up with your knees next to your ears and his cock burried to the hilt inside of your little hole, cums so deep inside of you that you leak it the whole day.

— just sitting on his lap his cock buried inside of you as he rubs his hand up and down your back as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck and he tells you “work so hard sweetheart, you need to be taken care of too hmm”

—sitting at between his legs and nursing his cock while he pets your hair, comes on your tongue, makes you hold it out and show him.

And every time you bring mrs price up he tells you to not worry about it because “she won’t be mad baby, now come on be good, and get my cock nice and wet hmm” and shoves his fat head between your parted lips.

And it’s all so confusing until one day when you you end up in his bed yet again, on his cock yet again and she walks into the room , cool, normal, telling him something about filing taxes, while he bounces you on his cock, deep and hard—

“Jesus John don’t break the poor thing”

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