#but i don’t think they’d be able to actually have a productive conversation for a Long Ass Time fjsngjsg

[crocodilenjoyer]

see i would love to cook up the accidental drinking buddies zoro and tashigi fic and sprinkle some grief and Gender and discussions of morality over the top like garnish. but somebody broke into my house and rearranged and now i can’t find a damn thing in this fucking kitchen so i won’t be making anything

[misstycloud]

Yandere actor x actor reader in an interview?

“So, as you know the movie has now become a major success in the movie industry,”

You and the man beside you both nod in unision at the hostess statement, confirming her remark with a certain pride one receives after all the hard work finally pays off.

“-what would you say was your favourite part to film?” The woman asked, intrigued. She turns her curious gaze towards you first, so you go ahead and answer.

“Well I would say it was the resturant scene, since we actually got to eat real food. And if the shot wasn’t good enough they’d have to bring out a new full plate to reshoot it.” You professionally replied with a laugh.

The woman and rest of the audience chuckled along at your confession. She even made a joke of accusing you of messing up on purpose so you’d be able to taste the dish over and over again.

The question was then directed at the other guest. He crossed his legs while straightening the tie on his very expensive suit, giving him a cold and rigid appearance.

“I personally favoured doing the wedding.” Was all he said. Nothing more nothing less.

The show host laughed in an awkward manner at the short and uninterested reply. You wanted to sink into the cushioned chair and pinch your brow. Could he stop doing that, you begged mentally.

Although it’s basically what he’s been doing all through his career and people should’ve really seen it coming by now, you still wished to save the embarrassment.

Deciding to do something, you nudged his arm with your elbow and whispered, “What else? What about it made you like it?”

Ace’s face lit up in realisation and ‘ah’ed. “The Production Designers made a great job in creating the venue. They made it feel like a real ceremony. Everything was done in near perfection, the decorations were good suiting my tastes and all.”

“Oh, is that so, and what was the best part of ‘your wedding’?” The hostess leaned in closer, anticipating his answer.

A small hint of a smile grew on the caramel-haired man’s face, so small in fact that it would be hard for anyone but you and the other woman to catch it. “The best part you ask? It is without a doubt that I got to see (Y/n) looking so beautiful- not to say she isn’t always- but I am sure you understand what I mean.”

She burst out in giggles at his confession and so did the audience, loving the prospect of a real life romance that might be happening behind the camera. You and Ace seemed like the ideal couple after all. Both being highly attractive, talented and having some unexplainable connection.

The perfect pair.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve had any guest be so honest with their feelings toward their co-star!Say, Mr. Lee, you’re not one known to form a close bond to your fellow actors but there’s an obvious exception here.” She pried, all giddy. If she managed to get a juicy reply, her show would definitely make the top from there. “Does this mean miss (Y/n) is someone very special?”

News on your relationship would spread and be the topic of magazines and conversations. Everyone were invested in it, even though it wasn’t officially confirmed that you and Ace were a thing.

Your body tensed at the question. You didn’t want people to think you were dating for real, as if it were confirmed. That would cause a bunch of trouble you had no interest in handling. All those people were fooled.

Tough you didn’t wish to call your fans and the general public idiots, it’s exactly what they were when it came to him. They had no idea of what he was really like. Sure they knew he could be taken as a bit of an oddball, not the person to gladly socialise like other celebrities.

But only those who had worked closely with him knew the extent of his troubling personality. Picky, selfish, entitled and rude towards everyone; those were the prominent qualities. You couldn’t count on the times you’d been forced to save some poor employee from his clutches.

Only after noticing your presence did he switch up his act and turn into a completely different person. Front of you he’d act sweetly, if you hadn’t caught him being horrible to others you wouldn’t have believed he was capable of such things.

In all honesty, it was somewhat disturbing how he was able to turn the switch so quickly. That’s the prodigy actors, you supposed.

You sent Ace a firm look, warning him not to do something he’ll regret. AKA, lying and saying you were together. And what does he do? He had the audacity to freaking smirk. You nearly scream in your seat. What an ass!

“Yes, she is indeed very special to me.” Ace said as he sent you a meaningful gaze.

By now you were ready to slap him. It had been hard enough to keep more rumours about the two at bay than the already existing ones, there was no need for this shit. Angrily, you kicked his leg. Which no one saw because the angle worked in your favour. Ace hissed in response.

And instead of getting mad like the normal human being, he said with a sly grin, “Actually, do you want to know another favourite scene of mine?”

The hostess perked up at this, “Yes, certainly!”

“The one where I get the privilege of proposing to (Y/n). It was wonderful, just wishing she’d accept my real one.”

Silence. Then an uproar.

“Does this imply the rumours are true? And have you gone so far you’re thinking of marriage?”

“No, no!” You instantly deny, “He’s not serious, he loves to joke around sometimes, haha. Isn’t that right?” You regard Ace who sits calmly in his position, not caring to say a word.

‘He’s getting off from this, isn’t he!’

“Oh don’t be shy miss (Y/n)! It’s been obvious since a long time ago. You’re made for each other!”

“No. We’re not! We’re really not. There’s nothing more between us than friendship. ”

———-

‘Ugh. Why did he have to do that?’ You complained to yourself after the show was over.

As you stumbled around in the corridors, the person who caused your irritated state popped up.

“Just the person I wanted to see.” You spat at him.

“It’s good to see you too, love. Since the wrap-up of the movie I haven’t had the chance to see you for so long. It’s been very lonely.” Ace approached you and tried to caress your cheek, you stepped away.

“What the hell did you do that for? Don’t go around spouting shit that isn’t true.”

“I can assure you, my love for you is very true. There isn’t anything more genuine than that.” He pleaded.

“Just stop!” You pushed him away, “I don’t want you anywhere near me. I’m done with you! No more movies together. We’ll never see each other again, okay!”

The moment you started leaving, a voice sounded behind you. In a confident tone your now nemesis asserted, “We’ll see about that, dear.”

—————————

[overtake]

Not to be weird but I feel like I got zapped when I read your hockey snippet, how didn't I know that this existed? It's literally been living my brain for hours and I've not been able to stop re-reading it since 🙃 clearly you can take the girl out of toronto but you can't take toronto out the girl because im a changed person now. No pressure ofc I mean this in non-prodding way but praying and willing you to put your snippets together. If you never come around to it then I'm glad (and changed) for what you've shared with world regardless 🙏🏻🙏🏻

This is SO sweet 🥹 I love you so much. Just for this, please have a bit more hockey au. There's a tiny snippet after a media bit (Surprise, this fic is multi-media! Writing the social media parts has been my fave part of the entire process)

@.MapleLeafs on TikTok: | December 12, 2023

[Players walk by a whiteboard on their way into the practice rink. They're stopped to answer the question written on it as they enter. The caption written over their heads reads: "Who don’t your Leafs want to sit next to on a flight?"]

ALEX ALBON: Easy one. Esteban Ocon. He’ll bite your head off if you make a single noise. I think he’d get mad if the plane was going down and you tried to warn him. LOGAN SARGEANT: Gasly or Ocon. I don’t know if it’s a French thing, but they both get really annoyed if you talk to them on a plane. PIERRE GASLY: Danny Ric. He is the loudest person I’ve ever met in my life. ESTEBAN OCON: Daniel Ricciardo. Sorry, Daniel. DANIEL RICCIARDO: Gasly. Max and I were just having a conversation and he rose up behind us and nearly bit our heads off for laughing. I don’t know why he keeps sitting near us. MAX VERSTAPPEN: I don’t really mind sitting next to anyone. I usually sit next to Daniel, and we have a good time. He keeps movies downloaded for us. They're often not very good, but that's sometimes more fun, you know? YUKI TSUNODA: Daniel. VALTERRI BOTTAS: Daniel Ricciardo. ZHOU GUANYU: Daniel. He is very nice and fun, but sometimes you just want to relax on a flight. MARCUS ERICCSON: Surely everyone except Max picked Daniel, right? FERNANDO ALONSO: I don’t want to sit next to anyone.

Mara (DR’s Reputation Era) @.mv33fan: Fernando Alonso: I hate this entire team The entire team: We hate Daniel and the French Max and Daniel: Ask again later. Our mouths are occupied with each other’s dicks.

________

Theoretically, Daniel knew that his and Max's pre-game ritual could end up on the broadcast. Butt taps and silly handshakes in the tunnel inevitably end up on team Instagram stories even if they don't air on TV. It was to be expected, particularly on a Saturday night game against Ottawa.

Still, he didn’t exactly expect a whole montage. It's a nice little package, to be fair. It shows him and Max laughing next to each other in the tunnels and locker rooms before games, followed by their fingers interlocking in their usual drawn-out high five. Daniel prefers to fist bump the whole team and exit only before the goalies, but his routine with Max is always a bit of a production that holds up the line. It's only a surprise it hasn't been uploaded sooner.

After a game where Max scored two goals and Daniel threw his body in front of a rogue deflection and stopped the Sens from a late-third tie, the media naturally focuses on the montage. God forbid they talk about actual fucking hockey in the hockey interview.

“We call it tangled love,” he tells reporters in the press scrum after the game. “In honour of our artistic collision last game.”

It wasn’t a real collision. They’d just got tangled up together when things got chippy by the net. Their skates had collided and they'd taken each other out while trying to defend Esteban from some Habs players. It was all over social media, though, and Daniel knew they’d end up in some embarrassing NHL moments compilation.

They’d both laid on the ice, a little stunned and a lot stupid, before Daniel let out a giant laugh and broke the tension. Max had risen to his feet and tried to pull up Daniel, only for them both to fall right back down as if this was the first time they'd ever skated.

They’d actually been doing this little handshake all season, but reporters were always happy for a soundbite to latch onto and a joke they’d never let go. There's not much to work with in this league in the way of on-camera personality, so it’d probably be a story for the next week. The go-karting clips of the two of them were so popular than even Max mentioned he’d seen them on Reels, and he’d carefully curated his feed to show him anything but Leafs content.

Daniel can’t explain it, this warmth that makes him feel like he’s glowing from inside out all the time since the season started, but he knows he feels it most when he sees people write his name alongside Max’s like their togetherness is a given.

[breakerwhiskey]

237 - TWO HUNDRED THIRTY SEVEN

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

“Dead over there. Where you’re from.”

So. Junior is…supposed to be dead? In the—the proper timeline or whatever you want to call it? So if he…if he died here…

[click, static]

Nope, I can’t think about that. Not—not right now anyway. Maybe later, Harriet and I can…

[click, static]

I guess I haven’t really said much about our grand reunion. Well, it wasn’t that grand. I told her where to go, she remembered enough about the song to figure out where it was, and she showed.

It’s…it’s fine. It’s good. It’s terrible. I don’t know. We—

Well, we’re not really talking about anything, you know? Everything that happened before I left, everything that’s happened since, her being alone this whole time, me finding Donnie and then…

Harriet actually—well, unlike Donnie, she wanted to come on the radio with me, “if I insist on broadcasting still”. But I…

I told her no. I don’t know who’s listening to this anymore—or at all. I never know if Birdie is going to drop off the face of the earth, or if Fox gave up, or if there are other people out there who can hear my voice and just not speak back. But this is…this is mine. And maybe it’s selfish, but I’m not—I’m not gatekeeping the radio waves from Harriet. She has her own radio, if she wants to broadcast, she can.

But I don’t want to argue with her on here. I don’t want to have my thoughts and feelings and perceptions called into question when I’m just trying to get all those things out, work through them. And she hasn’t done that so far, not yet but I— I can’t think straight around her. And I need to be able to…I need to keep a level head. I need—

We still haven’t talked about Don. She started to say sorry, but I cut her off before she could finish. I couldn’t bear to hear how to finished it. Would it have been “sorry for your loss”? Or “sorry you blame me for Don’s death”? “Sorry I betrayed you”? “Sorry I led you on for years and we still haven’t—“

[click, static]

It is both harder and easier to be angrier at her when I’m with her. Easier because I have something to aim at, because sometimes I’ll look at her and I’ll see her face in the moment that I told her I—

And then other times, she’ll enter a room and I’ll get that whiff of lavender and turpentine and everything inside me just…melts.

I want to be able to make her the villain in my story—I remember thinking…those first few days I was driving around, I remember thinking that if I found someone, if I really found someone else and we got to talk and get to know each other and really form a bond…well, you know how you practice conversations in your head? Ones you had ten years ago, ones you’re planning to have, ones you know you’ll never have. Well, I would practice talking to this imaginary person and telling the story of my life. It would be so easy to make Harriet the villain—rival into turncoat into nemesis. There’s a clean narrative there, one that I wouldn’t have to lie about to tell. Leave certain things out maybe but…that imaginary person, they’d believe me. They’d be on my side.

But I didn’t find anyone. I just kept talking to the open airwaves and it was so much harder to keep the story straight when I wasn’t telling it all at once. When my feelings on the subject changed every day. When I hadn’t seen Harriet in months and I started to miss her so badly I’d get in my car and start driving back to Pennsylvania only to turn around when I had to stop to refill my gas tank.

I never told you that, I don’t think. I spent so much time, wasted so many miles driving back to her. I always turned around right back around again, had to watch the same road go by.

So maybe I haven’t done a good job of making the story simple, me as hero, her as villain, but the story I’ve been telling is still mine. And I don’t—I’m not ready for her to tell her side of it.

[click, static]

[rootvegetableboy]

cm dev log #10 - august 2024

happy september, everyone! i burned the shit out of my dominant hand this month, so, things weren’t necessarily as productive as i would’ve liked… but progress was still made for sure :)

here are a few things i worked on in august!

player death:

i did this at the very beginning of the month, as it was one of a few things necessary to release my first playtest. (more on that later!) like a lot of things i put off for months because i thought they’d be way difficult, this was a lot simpler than i’d thought it would be.

there are not a lot of moving parts to this! when your hp reaches zero, your player object is destroyed, and the death screen fades in. pressing enter at the death screen will reload your most recent save.

cutscenes and dialogue:

previously, conversations and dialogue in the game were pretty static, so i introduced an object called “obj_camerashift”. when called, this object can move both the camera & which direction the player is facing, giving the effect of the player “looking” at certain things mid-conversation.

i made a few other small changes to some dialogue-handling objects, as well. the aiming/shooting cursor now disappears when a textbox is on screen—i found being able to move the mouse around during conversations a little distracting, and i think it looks a lot more seamless this way. i also implemented an object that keeps track of plot/story related variables! surely i will not use intimate knowledge of the player’s actions against them :)

arson?

you can now set fires

fun for the whole family!

playtest one?!?!

do you guys remember last month when i said “i would love for people to playtest within the next couple months”

well… i actually moved way quicker than i was expecting and released playtest one at the beginning of august! i put out some feelers for who all would be interested back in july and was able to get a bunch of people to participate and share their feedback with me. i’ve been hearing a lot from fellow game devs about how important early and frequent playtesting is, and now i can finally say, with pride:

oh my god i get it. i am WAYYY to close to the trees. and i am so, so unbelievably grateful to everyone who took the time to test, because it really opened my eyes and gave me a much clearer picture of where things are at. let’s take a look at what people thought, and most importantly, what i learned! :)

standard enemies:

i chose to go with a goldilocks-style rating scale for the post-playtest survey. i felt like this would help me focus on the individual player’s perception and experience, because i had a lot of different ranges of skill level in playtesters. (my partner defeated the miniboss on their first try, but to my knowledge almost no other player was able to do this!)

this is a summary of responses about the difficulty of the small-scale enemies. i found it helpful to switch back and forth between the summary of all responses and individual responses when analyzing data, as often people would explain what occurence led to what choice. for example, i had one person rate Bug entirely “just right” for every category, and they explained in their written response that they enjoyed the threat level that the speed of the bug posed. i had another person rate Bug’s overall power & movement speed as “too difficult” for the same reason cited: the enemy’s speed! however, the person who found it too difficult also expressed that they don’t have much practice on keyboard&mouse games. you can start see where dev decisions start to get both more simple and more complex with access to all this info…

the summary of all responses is very helpful for analysis of overall player trends, though. i was pleasantly surprised that people tended towards finding the snake a little too easy overall (i <3 making things more difficult). i wasn’t expecting people to be so divided on the bug’s damage, so that’s one of the categories where teasing out individual responses is a little more helpful.

miniboss:

this is the most beautiful graph in the entire world to me right now.

the clear overall trend towards “just right” is so exciting for a first playtest!! it’s also a huge relief to know that the core gameplay is legitmately enjoyable. i had several people express that the miniboss fight felt rewarding because they were able to watch themselves get better at it. that feeling is exactly what i’m going for in terms of difficulty, because it’s one of my favorite feelings to have: knowing that it’s not any special levelling or number getting me through the fight, it’s just me and my skill.

though it’s really exciting to read about the aspects people enjoyed, i got a lot of insight from those that found this too easy or difficult as well. one person who found the fight too difficult suggested a small wait (”a breath or two”, they said!) between attack patterns, as they were getting very quickly overwhelmed. (i think this is a great idea!) i had another person who found the fight a little too easy in every category, and mentioned that they were able to complete the entire fight without using the player dodge mechanic at all. this is interesting to me because a lot of the people who seemed to struggle with the combat struggled with using the dodge mechanic specifically. actually, this is a pretty good segue…

player:

testers were rating the relative strength/weakness of each category offered here as opposed to “difficulty”. though, it’s sort of the same thing in this case…

anyway, as you can see, the dodge was pretty divisive.

i believe there’s multiple issues here that are compounding each other. the first is the dodge animation: it was very quickly drawn and i don’t think it gives anything in the way of juice or satisfaction to use. it’s also not even really an animation, i just change the player sprite to a static image depending on what direction they’re facing. because of this, there isn’t a clear “beginning of dodge → end of dodge” visual progression, so i think players get confused on when they’re actually invulnerable.

the second issue is the timed length of the dodge itself. playtesters only got 15 frames (or a quarter of a second) of invulnerability, which is just really difficult to consistently execute. this is especially affected by another issue about the player i had several people point out: the player hitbox was much taller than it was wide, so dodging attacks that were coming at you vertically became especially hard to pull off.

rest assured, playtesters, i have heard your cries! i have already changed the length of the dodge to 22 frames (a little more than a third of a second) and squashed the player hitbox significantly shorter. a full dodge animation is on the list of things to draw as well—hopefully these changes will help.

so it was less of a “work on actual game content” month and more of a “pace back and forth across my apartment thinking very hard about survey results” month. i’m glad it went this way though! it gave my hand some time to heal and gave me a lot to think about. i’m excited to tackle september. i don’t think i’ll do another playtest for at least a few more months, though… it was a lot of work to set up…

as a final note, in two months project cm will be one year in development… i’m thinking i will reveal the name of the game at that point. it could be nice to know what “cm” stands for…

that’s all for the august log. see you in a month!

[redbirdandbluebird23]

Regret

Title from the song by New Order

Masterlist

“I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“If I die before you, don’t let them try and bring me back. Make sure I’m cremated, even if you have to steal my body and do it yourself.”

“Jay-”

“No, Dickie. I can’t- I don’t want to come back again. Please.”

“Okay. I promise. On one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You do the same for me if I die first this time.”

“Deal.”

***

Jason’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking as he walked into the cave. He’d heard on the news; not one of them had even bothered to call him even though they all at least had his comm frequency, if not his mobile number. 

With the exception of Duke, Steph and Alfred, the entire family were standing around the planning table in the cave. As Jason approached he caught several buzzwords that made his blood boil; Lazurus pit, Darkseid, Apokolips . 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” They all turned around at the sound of his voice and Tim at least had the common sense to look uncomfortable. “I know damn well he put it in writing that he didn’t want to be brought back, so I damn well hope this conversation isn’t about him, especially because he was Dick Grayson when it happened and not Nightwing!”

Maybe shouting wasn’t the way to go, but Jason had barely had time to process the information and he refused to break down in the cave, which meant it was easier to bury his feelings under his anger until he was alone again. And as far as he was aware, none of the others knew about that fact he and Dick had been seeing each other for months. Hell, they’d even roped Roy in to keep Babs’ tech at bay because neither of them wanted Bruce butting into their personal lives. 

“Nightwing is a pillar of the superhero community and the work he does to help people supersedes his wishes.” Bruce said, almost robotically. 

Jason scoffed. “That’s bullshit. If any of you gave a shit about him you’d do what he wanted.”

“Richard is more important than mere wants.” Damian said sharply. 

“Nightwing has not updated his will for four years, therefore we are working on the assumption that he changed his mind and the original amendment was made in the aftermath of speaking to you, on a whim.” Bruce said, turning back to the table. Babs and Tim had yet to actually look at Jason. 

“On a whim…” Jason muttered thinking back to that conversation they’d had on the roof and how often he’d asked Dick if their deal was still standing in the following years. “You know I thought he was different. I thought he was the one you’d actually be able to put your crusade aside for. But you literally only care about what he can do to further it, don’t you?”

“If you have nothing productive to add to this conversation, Hood, you are no longer welcome.” Bruce said. 

Jason laughed, if only to try and stop himself from crying. “I hope every single one of you will regret this for the rest of your life.”

He turned and walked back up the stairs before any of them could reply.

Read on Ao3

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

what's the mark watson thing?

Well, it is Google-able, and I’ve kind of hesitated to actually spell it out on this blog, just because I feel gross writing about that kind of celebrity gossip (I realize I write things about famous comedians’ lives on this blog all the time, but something related to their actual love life feels like a new level of tawdry). But I guess it’s not really any better to vaguely refer to it, as I’ve done a few times, than it is to spell it out. So since you asked, I’ll do that.

I’ll try to tell the story according to his comedy material, because anything he’s put in a stand-up routine doesn’t count as tabloid-style gossip, it’s just reporting on comedy. Last year I listened to all his radio shows in chronological order (those radio shows being basically made up of chunks of his stand-up, so it’s the closest I can get to hearing his old stand-up shows aside from the DVDs he released in 2011 and 2014 and a couple of other recordings I’ve found, which also follow the same pattern), the story is: early radio shows from the late 00s involve him talking constantly about being really excited to have a (relatively recent) wife. Next few years of shows involve a whole lot of jokes about anxiety about having babies and what it’s like to fight with your wife a lot. Then moves into a lot of jokes about drinking too much, more severe fighting while trying to raise children, drinking wine in hotel rooms on tour to escape family. Then he stops referring to his marriage at all for a bit, then in the late 2010s starts doing some jokes about what separation and divorce are like. In 2022, does a show that’s a bit unusually aggressive for him (still not very aggressive, it’s Mark Watson), talking about depression and divorce and having a drinking problem that is a cause and effect of both those things, a brief story about how he’d lived in Adam Hills’ attic for six months as his marriage/life fell apart. His 2023 show took this even farther, with a couple of jokes about being frustrated that he has to pay so much alimony, and some of the struggles of co-parenting with an ex-wife.

Things I know even though I haven’t heard it in a comedy routine: after getting divorced around 2018, he was in a relationship with Lianne Coop, the comedy producer who runs the Inpatient Productions company with him and occasionally appears in No More Jockeys videos. A relationship that I’m fairly sure ended in mid-2023, because I heard him do some stand-up in February that said his son had Googled him and learned about his ex-wife and current girlfriend, but when he streamed the same stand-up show from Edinburgh in August, he said his son had Googled him and learned about his ex-wife as well as the woman who until recently was his girlfriend, a change that I think made the bit more convoluted and work less well. Almost as though comedians don’t plan their love lives around what will make a line in their show sound smoothest. After seeing that, I said that’s probably the theme for next year’s show sewn up, I guess he’s got a breakup show coming. Though I now think he may have bigger issues than that to discuss next year.

I give the background because it is relevant to why I care about the recent revelations, which are that it turns out the reason his marriage fell apart is he had a three-year affair, including while his wife was pregnant with their second child. If this were a comedian I find funny but their material weren’t all that personal, I’d find it easier to separate the art from the artist.

But in this case, Mark Watson has been talking about that part of his personal life for years. Not just in stand-up, either. He did nine episodes of Sofie Hagan’s podcast from 2017 to the end of 2020, in which he’d come on every 6-12 months and they’d have a long, involved conversation about their personal lives, their mental health, their recovery from difficult things, which in Mark’s case included divorce. He talked about coming back from suicidal thoughts, from self-hatred, a lot of serious stuff that he was able to discuss insightfully and interestingly and at times in a way I found really emotionally moving and resonant, because he’s intelligent and analytical. But I did notice, during all those podcast episodes and also all his stand-up material, that while he talked about the pain of a marriage ending, he never actually explained why or how it ended. I just figured he wanted to keep that private, which is absolutely fair enough. It was a contrast, being so open about many things and keeping that topic closed, but celebrities should be allowed to do that. To open up about deeply personal things without being expected to tell us everything.

But now that we know what he was avoiding telling us, it feels pretty fucking disingenuous to me. He didn’t have to tell us why his marriage ended, but if he wasn’t going to tell us that, I think he shouldn’t have spent all those years talking about it at all. Because talking about it without mentioning the fact that it was all his fault is pretty misleading. Obviously got him a fair bit of unearned sympathy. It’s a new piece of context that makes me look back at years of his comedy material, and stuff he’s staid on podcasts (on Sofie’s podcast, and a couple of others, he did a really good one on Susan Calman’s mental health podcast in I think 2018), in a new light.

So that’s my defense for caring, at least a bit, about a celebrity affair/breakup – it is related to his work. I’m a lot less disposed toward hearing him complain about the pain of divorce when I know it wasn’t a mutual no-fault process, but him facing the consequences of something horrible he did to his wife.

Also, a whole lot of the appeal of Mark Watson’s comedy is based on him being likeable. I’m thinking of John Mulaney’s latest show, which opens with him saying “likeability is a prison”, as his explanation for how it felt to be vilified when he failed to live up to the “likeable” image he’d created to his fans. And I saw his point, I really did. I think there is no defense for what the tabloids or fans did to John Mulaney when he got divorced, which is why I’ve filled this post with about 80 caveats so far to try to avoid doing the same thing to Mark Watson. Celebrities should be allowed to be flawed human beings without tabloids or the public on Twitter jumping all over them for being insufficiently likeable.

But also, I would say the same thing about Mark Watson that I said about John Mulaney’s “likeability is a prison” line, which is that “don’t cheat on your wife” isn’t that high a bar. I said something yesterday about how the lesson here should be to not put celebrities on pedestals, but I don’t think this is all that high a pedestal. I didn’t find out that Mark Watson was rude to a stranger after a bad day once, making him disappointingly imperfect. I found out he carried on an affair for three fucking years including while his wife was pregnant. I mean… fucking hell. Three years. That’s not one mistake, where things get out of hand and then you feel terrible and never do it again. Surely there’s a happy medium somewhere between “Mark Watson has to be perfect” and “Mark Watson can have a 3-year affair and that’s fine”. Some middle ground where celebrities can be flawed but we’re still allowed to get mad when they do something absolutely awful.

Also, I don’t think I had Mark Watson in that prison of likeability. I knew he had, as his friend Tim Minchin would say and for lack of a less dramatic term, a dark side. If you only know him from panel shows and stuff it seems like his persona is of a really really nice innocuous guy, and I do like the really really nice harmless Mark Watson from panel shows, but I think my favourite side of Mark Watson is the darker stuff that comes out in his stand-up sometimes, when he gets a bit aggressive, gets into rougher topics like depression and alcohol and anger and jealousy. I never expected Mark Watson to always be sweet and innocent. I just… didn’t expect this. This new context for all his old bits.

But even if I like aggressive and dark Mark Watson just as much I like sweet and nice Mark Watson, that’s still all based on him seeming like the kind of person I like, and therefore making me want to hear what a person like that has to say. His humour is tied more tightly to who he is than it would be if he were a less personal comedian. So yeah, learning new stuff about who he is changes how I can enjoy his work. Makes it harder to separate the art from the artist. If I don't like him personally anymore, then it's no longer as much fun to hear what he has to say.

I don’t think Mark Watson should be canceled. And I do think some people should be canceled. I think comedians or other famous people who do horrible things to innocent people in their personal lives should lose their fans and ability to make money off their public image. But that should apply to predators and things like that. This isn’t that, I don’t think there should be professional consequence for cheating on your wife. It is, when it comes down to it, his own business. But I can't help that it changes the way I feel about him.

There’s also the question of why he said this publicly now, after not saying it for so many years. And he did choose to say it, by the way. This wasn’t some tabloids uncovering it through dirty journalism. He talked about it in a recent interview of his own volition. And he did, to his credit, say he regrets it and he knows it was an awful thing to do and he’s sorry and he makes no excuses. Which I think would be a plausible defense… if it happened one time and then he felt awful enough to stop. But three fucking years… Jesus Christ, I don’t know how anyone could keep that up for so long.

I don’t know why he decided to talk about it now. The most horribly, horribly cynical guess would be that his autobiographical book is just coming out and he wanted something in the papers that’s interesting about his personal life to make it sell better. I want to believe that’s not what happened, but I have to say it’s crossed my mind. I pre-ordered his book months ago, paid extra for a signed and dedicated copy, and I rather regret that now. I haven’t received it, and when I do I’ll still read it. But it feels weird.

It is also possible that he just decided to talk publicly about it now because his other relationship has ended recently, maybe that changed how he looks at things. Or maybe he didn’t want to worry about it “coming out” anymore. There is some stuff in Sofie Hagan's latest show that may possibly suggest that what was showcased on their podcast conversations may not have been the beautifully deep healthy cross-gender friendship it appeared to be, because actually nothing good is real and you can't trust anything, and that could have made him worried that someone else is going to put his secrets out there so he'd rather get them out himself. Point being that I can think of several things besides the release of his book that happened this year and could have caused this, and I really hope one of them was the cause, rather than the incredibly cynical possibility that it was for book publicity.

All right, this has been the comedian gossip section of the blog. Likeability is a prison but also I'd prefer it if my favourite comedians would keep the extra-marital affairs to under three years. Surely it's not too parasocial to say that.

[whentherewerebicycles]

somehow it’s noon already!! but it’s been a productive morning. in my earlier research i’d been so focused on their first-gen numbers i somehow missed or didn’t fully register the fact that fully 40% of this school’s incoming students each year are transfer students from two-year colleges, which is obviously !!! a specific student population with unique needs that i should be prepared to address in whatever presentation i put together! so i did some initial research and reading in the secondary literature + then also reached out to two former advisees who transferred from community colleges and always had a lot to say about the types of support structures they wished they’d had. they were v happy to help so i set up calls with them tomorrow and on wednesday so i can pick their brains on how to effectively engage & support transfer students in undergraduate research. i made a promise to myself earlier in the week that i would only do rabbithole-style research if it felt like the topics would’ve been fascinating to me even if i didn’t have this interview, but i actually DO find this question super interesting and it’s also a fun excuse to reconnect with former students i haven’t caught up with in a while.

also man i just feel really happy and so much more like myself when i’m in this mode. my brain is WORKING again! i’m overflowing again with thoughts and ideas! i do think that trying a job outside of academia was a valuable life experience for me... and i do realize that this particular job is not representative of ALL non-academic jobs (if i didn’t have such a difficult manager i might’ve been able to stick it out here a lot longer). but also: i feel like you gotta pay attention to what energizes you vs. drains you in this life! and i am so energized by teaching, mentoring, program design, and doing any kind of research on those topics. i also feel my heart LEAPING at the thought of being immersed in a university community again. it’s funny because i get all the petty academic politics stories from macky and i knoooow how difficult & prickly & impossible academics can be but idk! as far as lightly dysfunctional work environments go, i find this form of dysfunction familiar and comforting! and i feel like the joy of working with students is sufficient recompense for the at-times harrowing experience of working with other academics lol. i’m just ready to be back in a place that i love and i’m really excited about this school in particular.

i was rereading the job posting earlier this week and thinking about how much more work it’s going to be than my current barely-anything job, which i know will probably cut into my loooong leisurely walks and my hours-long cooking sessions and my ability to lie around in bed for hours every day. it’s been nice in some ways to have so much time to do non-work things and to really get myself into good routines with cooking/exercising/etc, but i just DO NOT THRIVE when i have too much unstructured time and i am really, really starved for the casual friendly daily social contact i got from my old job. i feel like too much unstructured time = more time wasted because the time doesn’t feel valuable to me.

and idk i need people time! i need relationships with others! i need it both in a social energy and in an intellectual way... like, my conversations with students and the interpersonal conflicts you have to navigate and the unexpected things that come up in a teaching/mentoring relationship provide so much grist for the ol’ reflective mill. i feel like part of the reason i’ve felt sooooo bored and so annoyingly self-absorbed the past six or seven months is that i just don’t have enough INPUT you know?? i need all those interactions to spark new ways of thinking about something or new ideas or new interests to research. otherwise i’m just stuck in my own head, endlessly turning over my small cares and petty little resentments, without anything to challenge me or push me out of myself or force me to recalibrate the way i’m viewing a situation. anyway idk it’s all good data! as i am always telling students even bad or meh experiences can teach you something useful about who you are & what you need to thrive!!

[fancy-a-dance-brigadier]

For the ask game: ✦ what was your easiest fic to write & your hardest?

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line - 'Resting Place'

✿ did anything major change when you started writing [fic] to when you finished? - 'Say You'll Stay With Me'

↻ pick a fic and a different ship and I’ll tell you how I’d rewrite it - okay so remember some time ago you mentioned a fic idea where the runabout from Purgatory/Inferno gets stranded in the Gamma Quadrant indefinitely, and we had this funny conversation about potential polycules that might emerge? 'Brave Little Fool' + that😂

⊞ send a prediction for a fic i’ll write in the future - JPAU's gonna be EPIC and yes I'm biased but I'm also right <3

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line - 'Resting Place'

Ooh good question! I’d have to pick this one:

“Neither will this tender moment - they may recreate it millions of times over, but each night will be like no other, never quite capturing the majesty of what came before but always bringing with it new miracles.”

✿ did anything major change when you started writing [fic] to when you finished? - 'Say You'll Stay With Me'

I think the main difference between what I thought this fic would be and what it became was that the tone of the (semi) finished product is much darker than I anticipated. I was like ‘oh boy! Time to write a goofy, self-indulgent siskoshir Pretty Woman AU!’ and then came the horrors. For example, Julian’s eating disorder wasn’t mentioned ONCE in my original planning document, but now it’s a very significant part of the fic. The stuff with Eddington was less overtly grim in my original plan too. Also Kira was meant to be there in the role of the security guard that helps out Julia Roberts’ character in the film, but I just couldn’t quite fit her in once I actually started writing it.

↻ pick a fic and a different ship and I’ll tell you how I’d rewrite it

Ahh you’ve just reminded me how much I love the Gamma Quadrant road trip with the boys AU!! I think it’d be pretty complicated with the context of ‘Brave Little Fool’, particularly with Garak involved. I think Julian and Martok’s relationship in BLF was very much formed out of desperation, fear, and loneliness, so they’d definitely function differently as a couple once that immediate threat has been taken away - sure, there’s still the threat of them being on the run from the Dominion, but having the freedom to fly around in a runabout is very different to being stuck in a prison. But as for our friend Gark, it’d really depend on the status of garashir in this verse - I don’t think they’d be fully together here, but there’s definitely Something going on. So poor Julian’s stuck in a runabout with a) a Cardassian spy (?) he has Undefined Yet Intense Sexual Tension with, and b) a Klingon general he had a romance with that was built on a foundation of mutual desperation and terror. What is a man to do?? As for Worf, I honestly think he’d be too devoted to Jadzia to worry about joining Julian’s messy not-quite-love triangle. He just misses his worm.

⊞ send a prediction for a fic i’ll write in the future

Aww thank you! I really hope I’ll be able to pull off the Jedi Padmé AU in a way that is as epic as you predict! I also hope that I’ll actually be able to write it all eventually, because HOO BOY is it shaping up to be an absolute monster of a fic series!!

[nickcarr-scoutstories]

I step into the small corner store and the smell of boiling peanuts floods my nose. It’s a pulpy, soggy odor, wasted of anything identifiable as a peanut. I find it more sickening with each visit.

The market is small. Candy bars are locked behind protective glass. Only a few of each item on the shelves: three boxes of spaghetti, four cans of chicken noodle soup…

I locate the owner in the rear of the store. He hunches over pots of boiling peanuts, stirs them slowly.

The man is ancient. He might be in his 80s, or he might be well past 100. He is bent and rigid, skin taut over bone, yet still wrinkled like worn leather.

I have a check to give him for $5,000. We’re filming on his block for two weeks, and he’s allowed us to use his rear parking lot for staging.

Throughout the shoot, I’ve made it a point to show this man the utmost courtesy and respect. Though I don’t know his history, it’s clear that he has lived a hard life, and my goal is for our production to be an experience he looks back positively on.

And yet, at every point, his manner has confused me. He speaks in short, curt sentences. There’s a bitterness to his voice. His eyes remind me of unlit coals.

The man sees the check. He motions for me to give it to the woman at the register, then returns back to his pots without a further word.

The woman at the register is his literal opposite. She’s about half his age, likely in her 40s. She’s obese, barely able to fit in the small space behind the counter. Where he has been steadfastly quiet and emotionless, the woman is loud and adversarial.

“That’s it?” she asks, eying the amount on the check. “Feels like you’re taking us for a ride.”

“In fact, you’re actually getting more than most business owners on the block because you have such a large a lot,” I explain.

She “hmmphs” me skeptically, resumes painting her nails. Like with the owner, the conversation ends abruptly.

I leave. The smell of the boiling peanuts trails me out, soaked into my clothes, my hair, my skin. I turn back to stare at the store for a moment, perplexed by an encounter that mirrors every previous encounter.

Then, I hear a voice behind me: “You actually gave money to that piece of shit?”

I turn. It’s the owner of the hardware store further down the block, who I’ve come to know during our shoot.

“Bet you think he’s just a kindly old man,” he says. “That man destroyed this neighborhood. For real.”

I ask him to tell the story.

“Back in the 80s, when crack first hit this area, that man’s son, a teenager at the time, became a dealer for one of the gangs. One day, a deal went bad, there was a shootout, and his son was gunned down. Dad over there swore he’d get revenge.

“So he started his own drug operation. He hired everyone that used to work with his son, paid them double what they were making to switch crews. He sold crack for cheaper than anyone else in the hood, because he wasn’t in it to make money. He started taking over the entire game.

“And his ace in the hole? You meet his old lady?” I ask if he means the woman behind the register. “Yeah. That’s his wife. He had her open a bail bond place. So anytime his guys got pinched, they’d call her and she’d have them back on the streets the next day selling.”

“The other gangs started getting mad over the lost business. That’s when the violence started. The killings. People were dying all over the place. Kids in his gang, kids in rival gangs, kids who were using his drugs. It went on long after all the people responsible for his son’s death were taken care of. It was like he couldn’t stop.

“Eventually, they got him. He was given 25 years. Been gone ever since. He only got released last month.

“That’s the man you’ve been so generous with,” he says with a laugh. “Just a kindly old man.”

I later confirm the story with a police officer assigned to our production. For the rest of the shoot, I avoid the owner and his store as much as possible.

But I can’t help notice each morning as the man hobbles to his store at 6AM and begins the process of boiling his peanuts, which he tends to unwaveringly throughout the day until he closes the store in the evening.

And not once in the entire two weeks of filming do I ever see a customer buy a bag of his boiled peanuts.

--

Please share/follow/like if you enjoyed. 

More stories: nickcarr.com

[domi-scu]

Work and a bit of fun

Tuesday was very much a work-heavy day.

I woke up to rain and storm. Actual thunder and lightning storm which is my favourite and I don’t get nearly enough of those in Southampton. So while it meant it wasn’t very hot, I enjoyed every damn minute of it. It also made the day much less annoying as I didn’t have to worry about ‘missing out’ on doing anything fun and could focus on getting through some emails.

I did set up my little office in the garden under a roof and with a steady supply of Armenian coffee, I watched the rain. I even had to grab a jumper how much it cooled down but it made for a nice cosy setup which I am certainly not complaining about. I have to say, I ended up being a lot more productive than I expected. I also tried the hotel meatballs with tomato sauce before leaving for today’s events.

I cannot begin to tell you how much difference a good night of sleep made. I was able to hold a conversation today which I’m sure was appreciated by everyone who spoke to me unlike yesterday when I was just a zombie.

We have learned a bit more about the man who owns the area where today’s (and yesterday’s) events took place. The bit where we are, is a small artsy bit with the most incredible buildings and art. While the other side of the area is apparently where the richest of the richest have their properties. The man who owns it is currently petitioning to officially make it into a separate city just outside of Yerevan. Absolutely insane, but in a good way.

As I’m sitting outside before the start of the first panel, I think I was adopted by a little black dog. He brought his bone really close to me which I thought was adorable. I soon found out the reason though- there were two more dogs walking past and I think he was worried they’d steal his bone, so he used me as a human shield as they walked past. Omg, my heart- can I take him home??

The music management panel was great with some really interesting questions but I could not take my attention away from the interpreter. I’ve never seen one in action and as someone who often has to translate between my family and Alex, it was impressive to see a professional who is actually good at it and doesn’t have to search for the right word every damn sentence. I wish I could do that.

Once again, we moved over to the warehouse/ venue/ bar- first for a DJ set and then for a Georgian artist called Tamada. It was a mix of listening to the music and popping out to talk to people. I had some amazing conversations with women who are doing some really great work around here in music management/ label area about copyright issues. One of them is moderating the panel I’m attending later in the week so I’m now looking forward to it even more. The conversation also made me want to do more for the industry in Slovakia, so I really need to kick it up a notch and figure out how to go about it.

Tamada’s set was so much fun and so busy. Once again, absolutely not the kind of music I usually listen to but I had so much fun. I still had a relatively early night though as tomorrow is a tourist day and that’s a good enough reason to wake up early.

All in all, I went to bed thinking that if PRS send me to these kinds of things at least once a year, they certainly don't need to worry about me quitting.

[anagramtransitory]

13. They’d walk me through my relationships with my actual family, and how to not be bitter, and how to accept them even though they can’t accept me. In other words, how to be a bigger and better person, as only a loving parent who understood me could. That I deserved love and support and parenting I didn’t get, and to try to let some of the shame and guilt from my resulting problems with behaving like I was raised by wolves go. Who forgives me first so I can forgive myself second. All problems I have are casualties of attempts to be perfect as quickly as possible. Only a parent very similar to me could understand what that’s about. Who could forgive me for being imperfect in the way I need to be forgiven. No one except that parent could love this mess. Not fully or truly. Who could love my problems. And the process of my growing up and not just the end product(s). So far, no one’s enjoyed any of it, I certainly haven’t. Not the process, not the end products, because I’m still not functional, and thus not worth celebrating/enjoying being. Granted in my real family no one really enjoys anything in a way I understand and can comprehend, just like the way I can’t understand and comprehend the rest of their existences, and they with mine. It’s sad, very sad. We’re just too different, and one side of the table (theirs) is unable and unwilling to talk about the things I don’t understand or comprehend in a way that makes any sense to me, that isn’t composed of accepting shitty answers, which is what I get, which is the reality, which don’t make sense so I never understand their lives of living out the embodiment of shitty answers to deep questions about why they do things or not. Oh well. There’s no one to compare myself to, there’s no one even here at all. I can rant and rave all I want about having to do everything myself, and that’s fair enough. But with this inability to function, the buck stops here. I’d like to think there’s a parallel world where this person, this parent, does exist, and they’re broadcasting their thoughts out to me. Either way, I know who I’ve got to replace. I could say there’s nothing to mourn but there is. My dad lost his mom, my mom was tormented by her dad, I wasn’t parented quite as well as I’d ideally have been, none of it is right or okay, and all of it needs to be taken up with god(s), in death or at the end of the world when those things get resolved cosmically somehow. I’ll put the tickets in. Fill the hole. I have to fill the hole. That’s all there’s left to do. While you work, you tell your parent about your day, they tell you about yours. Infinite possible imaginary interesting conversations with a thought experiment turned component of self on purpose. Why do this? Because I’m able to. I’ve got a big mind. I can fit many people in here. Not that I can’t to. But I’m able to. If I have to. And I’m gonna try to fit everybody in there. All the best parents I’ve had, they’re all going in the soup. And what’s gonna come out is gonna be completely uniquely me. But powered by all the love I’ve ever gotten, in real life, even quite recently, or even still. It doesn’t matter how old I am. It matters what I can bear on my shoulders. And I can say I’m getting just about close to being able to bear near everything on my shoulders. And that’s a lot of things!! And eventually, once I can parent myself, I’ll try to parent other grown ass adults, because “grown ass adults” are systematically denied love and parenting for no reason permanently just because of their age, which is ridiculous and doesn’t help anyone and only hurts people. It seems like no one is able to take care of themselves. Not the ones I’m around my age at least. Not perfectly, not like a perfectly raised adult. If I can be that person at some point, why the hell not be that person towards others? I’ve got enough love and strength. I do, and I should always use everything I’ve got to help people. All that emptiness, all that meaninglessness, that’s a lack of love. They know even less than I do about how to be. In some ways, at least.

[monster-cock69]

little angel

Moodboard made by me and AO3 link here

Pairings: Peter Parker x Tony Stark

Pairings: Tony Stark x Peter Parker

Tags: Omegaverse, age play

Warnings: Underaged sex

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Peter never went back to group therapy. Instead, he met with Tony every other day. 

After their second meeting, the courting gifts started. 

The first gift was a soft fleece blanket with Yoda on it. The blanket had been saturated with Tony’s scent, and Peter rubbed it over his cheek before he fell asleep. 

A new lego set came next, and Peter growled at the nurse that suggested he share it. 

It got him a sharp smack to the thigh, but no one suggested he share his gifts again. 

At their third meeting, Tony pulled out his phone rather than a new gift. 

“I couldn’t bring these gifts with me, but I still wanted to show them to you.” 

Peter leaned closer and gasped at the picture on the screen. It was a large, plastic playground with two different slides, swings, and a set of monkey bars. His fingers itched to reach for the phone, but he kept his hands to himself and just looked up at him wide-eyed. 

“It’s all mine?” He hadn’t ever had something that big all for himself, and he could imagine himself playing there all day long. 

“Well, I have some friends with omega littles, and if you got along, you could share with them. Otherwise, it’s all yours Pete.” 

“It’s pretty,” he whispered because he didn’t know what else to say. 

“There’s also this,” Tony swiped to another picture. This was of an underground pool, and Peter felt his smile widen. 

“Thank you, Mr. Tony.” He wasn’t very loud, but it seemed that he didn’t need to be. 

“You’re very welcome Mr. Peter.” 

He rolled his eyes at the silly alpha, attention back on the massive spaceship they were building. They’d been working on it together since their second meeting here, and Peter hoped to finish it before they had to leave. 

Or he could always convince Tony to take the unfinished product with them when it was time to go. 

He guessed he’d see what happened when the time came.

“Do you know how to swim?” He found himself asking. 

“Well, I can, but I don’t like swimming underwater or getting my face wet in the pool much. How about you?”

Peter shrugged, carefully selecting his next block, “I always gotta wear floaties, but I can swim good.” 

Tony continued talking, so he put his pacifier down on the table rather than back in his mouth. Sometimes Tony would think he didn’t want to talk anymore if he had it in. Peter wasn’t sure how to tell him that he wanted Tony to keep talking while he kept silent, so he just left his pacifier out and stayed quiet at times like this. 

Eventually, Tony would figure it out, but no one expected Peter to have hard conversations during these little meetings. 

“Pass me a window, Pete. I want to have three here instead of two.” 

The alpha’s building skills had improved at least. 

Peter wouldn’t be able to build with him anymore if they hadn’t. 

Time ran out too soon for his taste – again – but he was looking forward to being scented by Tony again. The nurse would undoubtedly give him a reprimanding look, but unless Dr. Phil noticed, no one actually cared. 

Their supervisory nurse moved from her spot in the corner to announce their time was over. Peter grabbed his pacifier from the table and waited awkwardly to see if Tony would try to hug him. 

The alpha didn’t go to hug him but put a hand on his lower back as they followed the nurse’s lead. 

Today was supposed to be their last meeting together, and Dr. Phil would be formally speaking with them together for the first time. 

When they got to his office, they sat next to each other in front of Dr. Phil’s desk. 

“Alright Coulson, where do I sign for him?” 

Peter started at the abrupt change in tone. Tony was always so soft-spoken, but Dr. Phil didn’t seem surprised. 

Maybe that was just an alpha thing, because Dr. Phil never talked to the nurses the way he talked to Peter and the other omegas. 

“Mr. Stark, there are some things that you need to know before you officially take custody of Peter.” 

He slouched in his seat, not wanting to hear what he had to say. It was bad enough to see the nurses talking to each other about him like he wasn’t there. He didn’t want to see Tony and Dr. Phil do it if he didn’t have to. 

“I’m tired.” 

“First off, he’s what we call a high-needs omega. As you know, his hormones have become increasingly difficult to stabilize, and we believe that he will only be permanently stabilized after regular breeding sessions. As we are unable to do this ourselves due to his age, it is pertinent that we find an alpha willing to meet his needs. Pregnancy is not necessary, and we actually recommend he be put on birth control. It is also recommended he stay in headspace as much as possible.”

“I know this.”

Dr. Phil plowed on, heedless to the blush staining Peter’s cheeks, “I also trust that you’ve watched the videos of Peter’s breeding simulations sent to you. They should give you an adequate estimation of what he needs. And as with all prospective alphas, I would like to warn you that after the settling period passes you may notice an increase in bratting – which can range from an unwillingness to follow rules to outright defiance.” 

“I’m an angel,” Peter interrupted. 

He was ignored again, and the conversation evolved into a final review of their limits and adding the finishing touches. 

Peter had the rest of the night to pack up his stuff, a doctor’s appointment in the morning, and then he’d be going home with Tony. 

He couldn’t wait. 

~~~~

“No.”

The doctor in front of him sighed through his nose. A nurse had already tried getting him to sit for the injection, but Peter refused. The needle was the longest he’d ever seen, and each time he saw them walk toward him with it in hand he saw it glinting in the light. 

He’d dealt with the physical without any complaints, but an injection was a whole other thing.

“I won’t hold you down, Peter. Now be good or I’ll have to bring your alpha in.” 

Peter tensed up, glaring at the doctor and ready to put up a fight with whoever tried to hold him down. 

“I’m already here,” Tony announced from the doorway, “now behave, Peter.” 

“They didn’t say it was a needle, Mr. Tony.” 

The doctor grumbled, but at least Tony didn’t laugh. He didn’t look particularly sympathetic either though – which didn’t bode well for Peter. 

“It’s the best thing for you, the extra hormones will help you out. And even if they wouldn’t, not having the shot means you’ll have pups. I thought you wanted to be my only pup, Peter?”

Peter had known all of this, but he hadn’t considered the fact that he might have to share Tony with a pup. 

A real, tiny pup that would steal all of Tony’s attention. 

Tony was right, but, “I don’t want a needle.” The thing was absolutely huge. 

“If you let the doctor give you the shot without a fight, I’ll make sure the Millennium Falcon lego set is waiting for you at home. Keep this up and it’ll be a spanking instead.” 

Peter looked between the needle and Tony again, mostly determined not to fight. When the set had come out, he’d stared at it for an eternity. He really wanted that lego set. 

“It’s really fucking big,” he whispered as he slumped in place. Tony wordlessly came closer and sat on the exam table next to him. Now fully determined, Peter grasped his hand and buried his face into his shoulder. 

The needle hurt less than it would have without the promise of the Millennium Falcon set. 

“Do you want me to kiss it better?” Peter nodded, sniffling into Tony’s shoulder. He smiled when he felt the alpha’s lips atop the bandaid. 

The doctor looked relieved, and he ignored the grateful look that the alpha shot Tony as they followed Nurse Melinda back to his room. 

Sitting atop his bed was a neatly packed bag with his meager belongings. Inside were his blankets, some clothes, and his – now disconnected – phone. His spider toy was clutched in his hand. He had everything he needed to start his new life. 

Tony took his bag in one hand, and Peter gripped his free one as tightly as he could. 

“You did so good with the doctor that I might just let you cum on the car ride home.” 

“Oh,” Peter shifted from one foot to the other, heat pooling low in his gut, “can I cum twice Mr. Tony?” 

A smile teased at the corner of Tony’s lips, and he led Peter away while his fingers toyed with the waistband of his sweats. 

They didn’t speak until they reached the car, where Tony gave Peter a halfhearted introduction to the driver. 

The rearview mirror was tilted at an odd angle that meant Happy wouldn’t be able to use it, and the second they were settled in the car Tony was pulling him onto his lap and his cock free of his sweats. 

He cursed quietly as he could, hands clutching at Tony’s arms around him. 

“Stay still, and stay quiet. Just ‘cause Happy knows what’s going on doesn’t mean he has to listen to your slutty mouth.” Tony’s harsh words were spoken quietly into his ear, sending his cock jerking. Compared to his hand and the hard length pressing into his ass, Peter felt tiny. 

The alpha didn’t toy with him – there’d be time for that later – his hand on Peter’s aching member was tight and fast.  

Living with May, followed by living under the watchful eye of the facility’s staff, had taught him to be quiet for the most part, but even pressing his hand tightly over his mouth didn’t fully muffle his little gasps. It just made the hard outer plastic of his pacifier press uncomfortably into his cheeks, reminding him of the position they were in. 

He rocked into the touch as hard as possible. He’d missed his morning breeding simulation and had been one stiff breeze away from orgasm. 

It was no surprise that he came barely a minute into the handjob. 

Tony didn’t give him any downtime. His hand moved downward and slipped into Peter’s underwear to tease at the lips of his cunt. 

“One for your cock and one for your cunt, Petey.” A hand came to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to the alpha. 

His legs kicked reflexively, thumping softling on the back of the passenger seat. 

Tony fingered him with the same single minded focus that he’d jerked him off with. It wasn’t a race – it was a mission that he’d found himself on and knew he’d complete with flying colors. 

Peter’s second orgasm hit him like a freight train, and he nearly bit a hole into his pacifier as it crested over him.

[exilethegame]

This question is too good not to ask here: which ROs would look back in a Orpheus and Eurydice situation? If they look back, why? And if they don't look back before escaping the underworld, how would they do it?

Okay I... I spent a lot of time thinking and I honestly don’t think any of them would look back (except Vethna-- but even that was on accident). They were all built and designed to function in a world where only the strong (physically or mentally) survive, so ig they’re all just... kinda tough like that. 

Vethna: They’d end up doing the exact same thing as Orpheus, looking back at MC not even a few feet away from the exit-- not on purpose but rather out of instinct. Like they automatically went to tell MC they were almost there only to freeze as they realize the absolute fuck up they just made.

They wouldn’t be hysterical or anything-- they’d just stand there, already beginning to cry before they blink and MC is gone. It isn't until the reality of what they did sinks in later that very same day that they completely breakdown, and trust me when I say it’s a dangerous thing when a sorcerer of their power level isn’t able to control themself and holds a grudge against the gods.

I have no doubt they’d be able to get MC back in another way if they truly tried hard enough.

Nikke: He wouldn't look back. That man would be marching right back up to the mortal realm furious as all hell to disguise the fear he feels. He’s used to channeling his anxiety into something productive-- something dangerous-- and he’s going to get The Commander back, damn it. 

Once they actually manage to reach the mortal realm once more, he wouldn't turn around until he feels The Commander touch him-- which results in him breaking down in gratitude and relief, refusing to let go of MC until he solidifies that they really are there, and that they’re not going to be fading away anytime soon.

Jost: Doesn't look back. It would be similar to Nikke except she'd have a more annoyed air about her as opposed to an angry one, acting completely stoic as she leads MC back to the world of the living through sheer force of will alone. Upon escaping the underworld she'd refuse to look behind her before licking her lips and croaking out, "please tell me you're still there."

Amilia: Almost looks back-- but doesn't. As in, she stops about halfway through and goes to turn to look over her shoulder. It would be just a glance, the tiniest little peek-- but right as she’s about to see MC in the peripheral of her vision she stops entirely. 

And then she turns her head back to look away from MC, letting out a nervous laugh as she drags her hands over her face. It takes her a moment to regain her composure before she begins to lead the way again, likely pulling out her flute to play to keep herself distracted and to fill the stifling silence.

Sabir: Doesn’t look back. The entire time he’s playing with his hands and nervously chuckling as he rattles off countless stupid stories from his childhood. He tries to make it feel like a regular conversation despite the fact he can’t hear MC if they even try to respond. 

It’s clear he’s seconds away from completely breaking and turning around at any given second, but eventually they get to the realm of the living several embarrassing stories later-- which results in Sabir waiting one extra second for good measure before turning around and grabbing hold of MC in a bear hug, laughing out a, “I can’t believe that worked.”

Syfyn: Doesn’t look back, though there are more than a few times where she just stops walking, fists clenched at her sides and eyes squeezed shut as she fights the crippling doubt within her. The only thing that keeps her going is the fact that she can’t let MC down-- not again-- and the second they reach the world of the living she collapses entirely. She’d probably be on the verge of a panic attack for a while before the reality of MC being alive and with her again even remotely begins to actually sink in.

Mystery RO: Yet again, Freedom defies the rules. As a wykna/god, they're not limited in the number of times they can visit the underworld, and even then, regardless of whether MC is a shade or not, they'd be able to sense them. So no-- Freedom wouldn't look back (not that the stakes are nearly as high for them as they are for the others). The second they both step foot in the mortal realm, however, they turn around, pulling The Commander into their arms and pressing kisses on their temple.

[storiesforallfandoms]

inspirational ~ corpse husband

word count: 1589

request?: yes!

“Hi! I was wondering if you could do a corpse husband imagine where the reader has a feeding tube? If you can’t that’s perfectly fine, I just haven’t been able to find one yet.”

description: in which the group plays with a popular streamer that has a feeding tube and corpse tells her how much she inspires him

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of chronic pain and cancer, also i only know a little bit about feedings tubes, i tried to do research in order to make myself more familiar but if there’s a lot of inaccuracies or anything i am very sorry i’m gonna try my best

masterlist (one, two)

Corpse listened to his friends shouting at one another to accuse each other of being sus. As usual, there was no use in trying to get a word in. Corpse spoke so softly that no one would even hear him unless they wanted to hear what he was saying.

“(Y/N)!” Toast suddenly exclaimed. “You’re being very quiet right now.”

“Because my damn tube is mixed up in my headphone wires!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sounding like she was far away from her mic. The group chuckled and continued with their conversation about who they thought the imposter was.

(Y/N) was a known Twitch streamer and YouTuber that rose to popularity when she started a series on her YouTube channel to show her journey through cancer treatments. Long before his own sudden boom in popularity, Corpse had watched all of her videos and became invested in her Twitch streams as well. Being someone who also struggled with chronic illness and pain, Corpse felt a sense of hope watching (Y/N) go through her treatment and still seem to optimistic in life and so productive in her YouTube and Twitch channels.

When Toast messaged the Amigops group to ask if anyone wanted to join his Among Us lobby with (Y/N), Corpse jumped at the chance. He hadn’t had much time to speak with her alone, but he was hoping to be able to tell her how much watching her content lifted him up during his worst times.

The meeting ended with no one being voted and brought them back to the office of the Polus map. Since they were playing with proximity chat, the argument from the meeting immediately continued with Rae and Toast warning everyone to stay away from Sean, who they were susing at the second imposter after already voting out Charlie.

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink astronaut run out of the office, silent amongst the chaos. He waited a moment before deciding to follow her, hoping he could meet her somewhere alone so he could talk to her.

He ran into O2 and noticed a pink bean in the boiler room stood by the water wheels. He ran in and stood in the doorway a moment before speaking.

“Hello (Y/N).”

“Ah fuck!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Corpse! Don’t scare me like that!”

Corpse chuckled. “Sorry, I’ll warn you next time.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m okay with that. I feel like being killed by Corpse Husband in Among Us is like a rite of passage at this point.”

Corpse slowly approached (Y/N) to which she quickly ran away from him to the other water wheel. He laughed again before assuring her, “I’m not an imposter, you can trust me.”

“I don’t think I can, but I will choose to trust,” she told him.

“I actually came looking for you because I wanted to talk to you.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

There were so many things running through Corpse’s mind. He just wanted to blurt out everything he had thought about (Y/N) and her story, to thank her for giving him hope, to tell her what an inspiration she was. But his words caught in his throat and he struggled to get anything out.

Finally, he said, “What’s it like trying to be a streamer with your...with the um...”

“The feeding tube?” (Y/N) finished for him. “You can say it, Corpse. It’s not exactly a secret.”

He sighed, glad that she had a joking tone about it. “Yeah, with the feeding tube.”

“It’s annoying,” (Y/N) admitted. “Like...I’m assuming you’ve seen my streams or my videos but for the sake of anyone watching your stream who hasn’t: I have a nasogastric feeding tube, or an NG-tube, which is a feeding tube that goes in through the nose. As cliché as it is, just picture Hazel Grace from the Fault in our Stars. Additional cliché, I have it because I had cancer and the treatments left me so malnourished that I need a feeding tube even after I’ve gone into remission. So, because it’s tubes that are connected in my nose, I keep getting my headphone wires tangled in my tube or, very rarely, my mic wires, and it’s fucking annoying. It hurts like a bitch when I go to stand up and I yank the wires  by accident or something.”

“Does...does anything else hurt? Because of the cancer or the treatment or anything?”

“Not as much as it used to. I went into remission like nearly a year ago, so I’m doing better. It’s a process, but it’s had an amazing outcome in the end so I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I find you really inspirational,” Corpse finally blurted.

He felt his face heat up with slight embarrassment as (Y/N) giggled. “You do?”

“Yeah. I followed your series about your recovery and I’ve watched some of your livestreams every now and then. What always stood out to me was when you talked about the negative side effects of your treatment, and eventually having to put the feeding tube in and how you’ve found that effects you, too. Being someone with chronic illness and constant pain, I’ve also had those days where it feels like even getting out of bed is too much work and I don’t feel like I can stream or make a video, but then my anxiety tells me that everyone is going to forget about me if I don’t make some type of content, so it’s just an internal struggle when really I should be resting.”

“Being a content creator and having an illness is tough,” (Y/N) agreed. “It feels like you can’t take a day off. I sometimes regret making that series because on days that I felt absolutely awful, I didn’t want to film or edit anything, but I felt like I had to because so many people were watching. Ironically enough, that became the topic of one of those videos; I just sat in front of my camera looking the worst I think I’ve ever looked on camera and talked about how exhausted I felt just from being alive, but felt like I couldn’t rest because of my channel. That’s when I started taking longer breaks between videos and streaming. Your fans won’t leave you, not the true fans anyways. They’ll always be by your side even if you decide to disappear from the Internet forever.”

Corpse half smiled to himself. “I’ve thought about doing that sometimes.”

“It’ll be easy for you to do that where you’re faceless. No one would bother you even after you left the Internet cause they’d have no idea it was you unless you spoke.”

A brief pause in their conversation caused them to hear Sean yelling as he ran past the room. (Y/N) giggled and walked out of the room. Corpse followed, hoping to continue the conversation somewhere else.

“It means a lot to me that you think that about me, though,” (Y/N) continued as she ran into the storage room. “I find you pretty inspirational too.”

This took Corpse by surprise. He didn’t know how to respond. Sure, he heard that all the time from his fans, and it always meant the world to him to know that people found him to be an inspiration, but it felt different to hear that from someone he had looked up to for so long.

“I wish I could’ve been a faceless creator like you,” she said when Corpse didn’t respond. “One of my biggest regrets is probably showing my face online. Although, it wouldn’t make sense for me not to show my face when I’m making a series about cancer treatment, but people can be mean. Even when someone is struggling with illness or a disease, the Internet doesn’t care. Whatever makes them feel better over someone else feeling like shit.”

“I still get a lot of hateful messages even though I’m faceless, though.”

“You do, but you’re so unbothered by it. Publicly anyways. When I get messages about how sickly I look I get so overwhelmed with sadness and I just wanna delete my channel forever. I can’t even fake not caring because it really does effect me.”

“Stick with me, I’ll teach you my ways. My favorite is trolling the troll.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I’d like that a lot.”

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink bean approach his black one. “I’m glad we had this chat, Corpse. It made me really happy, but now it also makes doing this a lot harder.”

Corpse gasped as a kill animation popped up on the screen and (Y/N)’s astronaut quickly disappeared into the nearby vent. He was stunned into silence for a long time, just watching his ghost floating above his dead body. To make matters worse, (Y/N) had closed the door to storage so no one would find his body unless they had to go in there.

Charlie’s ghost floated through the walls and came to float next to Corpse’s. “Figured out Jack wasn’t the other imposter, huh?”

“Yeah,” Corpse said, laughing. “She really had me fooled. Buttered me up with compliments then killed me.”

“I taught her well,” Charlie comments before floating away again.

Corpse couldn’t help but laugh about the situation. He wasn’t mad, more impressed than anything. And he was a little happy; he got to talk to someone that had always been an inspiration to him and he made a new friend.

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Misplaced Mail - Part 1

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Mini-Series

Aelin accidently opens a package addressed for Rowan. Not a big issue. Except that he opened a package addressed to her. Issue.

Fic Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Part 2

Warnings: Language

1131 words

*******

One of the simple joys in life, Aelin decided, was getting an alert that a package you ordered finally arrived.

She’d just sat back down at her desk, after having taken a very short lunch because ‘that article better be in my inbox by the end of the day, Ms. Galathynius’ and she had a decent amount of editing that still needed to be done.

When her phone buzzed with a new email notification, she was sure it was another spam email but was pleasantly surprised to see it was the delivery alert for one of the orders she’d made earlier that week.

If hard-pressed, she wouldn’t be able to say what exactly she’d ordered—according to Elide, Aelin had a teensy, tiny, online shopping addiction—but whatever it was would surely be a bright spot in the stressful day she was having.

Deciding to act on the small burst of energy the alert had given her, Aelin opened the article she was writing and powered through for the rest of the afternoon.

***

Stepping into the lobby of her apartment building, Aelin quickly picked up her mail—ad, ad, bill, ad, and her package!

She took the elevator up to the fourth floor and walked down the hall towards her door. She wasn’t familiar with a lot of her neighbors, people mostly kept to themselves, but she did know the resident of the apartment directly across from hers.

Rowan Whitethorn. They’d had more than a few conversations. It was mostly bickering, but she could always sense that he enjoyed their banter almost as much as she did. He was also insanely attractive, and she couldn’t help but occasionally watch from her peephole when he went for runs in his very tight workout gear, or when he returned in his very tight, very sweaty, workout gear.

Aelin collapsed on her couch before pulling her box closer. Forgoing a knife, she managed to lift the tape and rip off the adhesive sealing the cardboard together. She didn’t recognize the logo on the box inside, but it wasn’t like she knew the manufacturers of all the products she orders.

With a small smile on her face, Aelin tossed the cardboard aside and opened the actual box.

Her excitement immediately morphed into confusion as she looked at what was sitting in her lap. A thousand questions raced through her mind.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Why would I order this?”

“Did I drunk-buy again?”

“Seriously, what is this?”

Aelin stared at the strange object for another long moment before her brain clicked. It was a piece of some kind of weird exercise equipment.

Her eyes flew wide as she scrambled for the cardboard box it came in. She flipped it over, eyes scanning the label, and then she cringed.

It wasn’t addressed to her.

It was addressed to a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn.

Shit. Oops.

Brows furrowing, Aelin reached for her phone and found the email confirming the delivery of her package. Right there, the confirmation.

She winced. If she had Rowan’s package, that meant that he most likely had hers.

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts and she rose from her perch on the couch to open the door.

Standing in her doorway was Rowan.

“Uh, I think I—I mean, I accidently—Uh, this is yours.” He thrust a box into her arms so quickly it was as if it burned him to hold it.

Aelin didn’t think she’d ever seen him look so flustered. His face was a bright red, he was stuttering over his words, and he wouldn’t meet her eye as she adjusted the box to get a better grip.

She just raised an eyebrow at him and slowly said, “Thank you. Yeah, there must have been a mix-up because I grabbed one of yours.”

Aelin placed the box in her hands on the counter as she walked to the couch to get Rowan’s package. When she turned back to him, she caught his eyes quickly dart away from her face. Weird. Normally he was cool and composed, but right now he looked like he wanted to bolt.

“I don’t even know what this is.” She gave him his rightful box and he mumbled a thanks before turning to leave.

She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms, and watching perplexed as Rowan fumbled for his key to unlock his door.

“Okay, Whitethorn, what’s got you so jumpy?” Maybe she was a little too amused by his obvious discomfort at whatever she’d ordered.

He whipped around, dropping his key to the floor, and cursed before reaching to pick it back up.

“Nothing. Hm? I’m good. Its nothing.”

She snorted. “It’s obviously something. Gods, I can’t even remember what I bought,” she turned to grab the box on her counter, Rowan still trying to unlock his door, and lifted the lid to see inside.

She choked on air.

Now she remembered what she ordered.

It was three nights ago when Lysandra and Elide came over for girl’s night. They all had a little too much wine and binged watched rom-coms all night. Aelin remembered pieces of a conversation about her so-called dry spell, honestly, Lysandra, three months isn’t that long.

At some point, the three of them found a particular website that specialized in devices to aid in those dry spells. And apparently Aelin had placed an order.

Gods, she needed to get better at hiding her credit card from herself when she knew she’d be drinking. Not like it would do much good, she thought, she’d had those numbers memorized for years.

The sound of Rowan door finally opening made her look up, and it was then she had the full realization:

Rowan, her neighbor, her extremely hot neighbor that she had a not-so-secret crush on, opened her very realistically-shaped, bright pink, vibrator.

If only the universe could open a hole at her feet so she could disappear.

The only reason she could keep her voice steady was because Rowan seemed far more embarrassed than she was. Besides, she was an adult woman, why shouldn’t she own a vibrator…or four.

“Ah, thanks, I uh, wouldn’t want to lose this.” She cringed, why did she have to make this so awkward. More awkward.

Rowan didn’t say anything, but she saw his face get even redder. The tops of his ear were now a bright pink.

In a split-second decision, Aelin decided to throw caution to the wind and say, ‘Fuck it’. She drew up all her bravado and smirked at him as he turned and caught her eye.

“You know,” she winked, “maybe you could help me out sometime and I wouldn’t need this.”

Grinning at his slack-jawed, wide-eyed, stunned face, she turned on her heel and shut her door.

****

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