#it’s a book. being narrated to me aloud.

[carfuckerlynch]

listening to the only good indians. excellent so far. crisp, careful prose that’s nonetheless companionable. the narrator is also fantastic.

[draconic-desire]

Ad Experimentum

Yandere Dr. Ratio x Reader

Veritas catches you reading one of your dirty books.

Warnings: Implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, NSFW scenes being read aloud, Dr. Ratio being a dick as always

Within the confines of Veritas’s home, you feel like a mouse in a maze, reduced to a caged animal, always under scrutiny and experimentation.

Escape is impossible. Dr. Ratio has ensured that you’re never out of his reach, even though he acts as if you are the burden and he didn’t kidnap you and imprison you in his home. Sometimes you wonder why he even keeps you; surely he has better things to do than to quip at your inadequacy or lack of genius. But alas, the pretentious prick seems keen on pushing every one of your buttons to see how you tick. You might even call it intimacy if he wasn’t so clinical and judgmental about it all.

Because physical escape is impossible, you’ve turned to escaping within the confines of your own mind.

Books provided the perfect retreat. You’ve since abandoned any non-fiction to focus on fantasy, to worlds that effortlessly whisk you away. Novels that depict true, romantic love, not the twisted ownership you’ve grown used to. Like you’re some pet to be controlled and prodded at, like Pavlov’s dog, waiting and drooling for its master’s hand at the ring of a bell.

So, in your hopes to feel something real, you’ve started to delve into stories that are a bit…spicier.

With the latest read in your hand, your eyes skim hungrily over the pages as the tension between the protagonists builds. The lovers begin to undress each other, the one spreading his partner’s pussy as she grinds into his hand—

Veritas effortlessly plucks the book from your hands, earning a cry of protest. You try to snatch it back, but, with the help of his towering height, he dangles it just out of reach. “What in the heavens is this?”

The way he holds the book between his thumb and pointer finger, as if merely touching it would taint his self-proclaimed perfect set of knowledge, was almost comedic. You would laugh if he wasn’t such a condescending asshole.

Instead, you scowl. “Give it back.”

He merely hums and turns the novel in his hands, inspecting the cover. Licking his thumb, he flips to your bookmarked page and begins reading aloud. “My hand caressed her core as I speared her with two, thick fingers. She moaned and arched into my palm in response, causing my cock to twitch in anticipation. God, I wanted to taste her arousal. Her pussy was perfect, so wet and tight and ready for me to claim, to fuck.”

Embarrassment rages across your cheeks like a burn. You fling yourself at him, pounding your fists against his chest when he lifts the book out of your reach easily. “Stop, just stop.”

Amused, Dr. Ratio continues to narrate the scene in painstaking detail. “I lowered my head, letting my tongue swirl around her clit and rendering her voice to nothing but pitiful mewls. She tasted like heaven, like my own personal feast. I buried my tongue in her, then, and held her hips as she bucked into my mouth, begging for release—”

“I will do anything,” you beg, face in your palms, “just please stop.”

Finally, mercifully, Veritas closes the book and lowers it down enough for you to snatch it back. You cradle it against your chest, heart pounding and palms sweaty with a chaotic blend of shame, anger, and relief that it was over.

“This is what you indulge in while I’m working? Though you are hardly an intellectual exception, I believed you to be above this brain-rotting nonsense, (Y/n).”

In spite of your embarrassment, you boldly meet his golden eyes. “And what do you care? I enjoy it, and it’s not meant for you. Go stick your nose in a dictionary for all I care.”

“At least I’d be learning something,” he sneers in return, looking down his nose at you. He sniffs, tilting his chin up. “What do those books have that I can’t offer you?”

You still, observing his features. Now that the fun of teasing you has worn off, his eyes flare with loathing. With a jolt, you realize it is not aimed at you but at…the book?

Wordlessly, you glance between Dr. Ratio and your novel. Then, a stilted laugh escapes your lips. “Wait.. Are you seriously jealous of a book?”

“Don’t be preposterous,” he scoffs, though you notice his white-knuckled grip against the back of the armchair you were previously lounging in. “I would never stoop so low as to associate myself with that plebeian filth. I simply wanted to ascertain your reaction to it being read aloud.”

You resist the desperate urge to roll your eyes. “Fine, then. Please leave me to my uneducated filth.” You spin around, intent on finding a new place to finish your reading.

“Not so fast.” Veritas is on you quicker than a cobra, large hands gripping both your shoulders. “Perhaps all is not lost. We may yet transform this circumstance into an educational opportunity for you.”

A chill runs down your spine at the heavy touch, and a sudden sense of foreboding warns you to run. You’re all too aware you’re the mouse being fed to the snake in this moment.

Veritas spins you to face him, eyes slowly trailing down your form, as if taking you in with a new perspective. “I believe an experiment is due.”

You go rigid. “I’m sorry?”

“If you’re so intent on reading about all those fantasies in your books, let’s go ahead and put them to the test, shall we?”

At his clear implication, you yelp and make a run for it. In that moment Veritas strikes, fisting your hair with one hand and cupping your chin with the other as he presses your body flush against his own. You can already feel his hard desire digging into your back.

“Here’s my hypothesis,” he purrs in your ear. “I predict that by the end of tonight, you too will be begging for my cum, whether you want to or not.”

His theory, as always, was proven to be correct.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Song of the Loon

Author: Desirae

Artist: eggchef

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: mentions of past Dean/Lisa

Length: 24438

Warnings: n/a

Tags: Narrator Castiel/Campground owner Dean, strangers to friends to lovers, past family trauma, survivors guilt, substance abuse(not Dean or Cas), Nurturer Dean, Hurt/Comfort, canon typical violence, angst with a happy ending, cabin by the lake fic

Posting Date: October 24, 2024

Summary: Dean Winchester is expecting a quiet, if not awkward, summer. His estranged brother Sammy was coming to visit from California, and all the chores around his lakeside cabin were not enough to distract him from his nerves. That is until an unexpected phone call from Sam’s sponsor, Gabriel, called with a favor: Could Dean put Gabriel’s brother Castiel up for the summer, no questions asked? Audiobook narrator Castiel Novak is exhausted and travel-weary. Fresh off of a book tour, Castiel arrived home to find his longtime online stalker has been to his apartment. At the urging of his brother, Castiel finds himself on a road trip to Angel’s Peak, Maine, where his host, Dean, is as stunning as the mountain view. Although Castiel and Dean feel an immediate connection, Cas is guarded, with emotional baggage he doesn’t want to inflict on his new friend. Will a summer in the wilds of Maine be enough for Dean break through Castiel’s walls and prove that he is worthy of love and protection? 

Excerpt: Castiel or C.J. Krushnic as he was known in the literary world, had spent the last few months doing the convention circuit promoting the latest book in the paranormal series. Very much an introvert, these events pushed Castiel far beyond his comfort zone, but the book series' popularity had made conventions a part of the job. This latest had been his third and he was getting better at sitting up on stage with fellow panelists. Castiel’s heart beat a fast staccato, as he answered questions about what it was like to give voice to characters like The Wesson brothers; his face a stoic mask as Castiel adhered to the requests to read book passages aloud in his distinctive gravelly voice.  He’d gotten through it, but now Castiel was drained and all he wanted was quiet and space.  Peering over the railing, Castiel heard the belligerent bellowing of a taxi driver and the jarring blare of a horn being pressed. Castiel sighed again. He needed to get away. Somewhere quiet, where he could just exist in peace and solitude. Castiel left the balcony, closing the doors behind him. With a jaw-cracking yawn, he dragged his boned tired body across the living room, back through to the bedroom, and into the ensuite bathroom. He set his now empty whiskey glass on the counter with an audible click. Tired blue eyes stared back at him from the mirror above the sink. Frowning, Castiel tore his gaze away from himself and turned on the water, cupping it in his palms before scrubbing it briskly over his stubbled face. His dark hair stood in tufts and he could use a shave, but Castiel just didn't have the energy. Wandering back out into the living room, Castiel absent-mindedly clicked on the television, noting that an old season of Tournament of Champions was playing. He left the cooking show on and grabbed the mail from on top of the suitcase. Slouching back onto his couch, Castiel rifled through the thick stack. It was mostly junk mail plus what looked like a belated birthday card from his older brother Gabriel that said I wish you love, laughter, and ha! Penis. Castiel snorted, fingering the last envelope in his hand. Furrowing his brow, he realized it was blank, save his pen name in a loopy scrawl. That was strange. Nobody had mentioned anyone dropping anything off for him when he picked up his mail at the front desk. Castiel opened the envelope and pulled out a slip of paper. His stomach plummeted unpleasantly as he read the words on the page. The sound of your voice, the way our eyes met, it is inevitable. You belong to me. -HeartsAflame With shaking fingers, Castiel pulled out his phone and quickly tapped on his brother's icon. Gabriel picked up on the first ring.  “Hey, broseph! How was your tour?” Castiel ignored the question. “Gabriel, they found my apartment,” he said, voice audibly shaken. “Sit tight, Cassie. I’m on my way.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[theobsidianempress]

Being Neurodivergent in JJK

 OK let me explain a few things first I have ADHD officially diagnosed back in October. I have always wondered how my favorite characters would react to neurodivergent people in terms of like dating them.

Like in JJK I have three that I feel with probably do pretty well with the neurodivergent partner.

First on the list is Nanami Kento-

I feel like Nanami would probably deal with a neurodivergent partner with grace and patience, and actually become a safe space for you to unmask and be who you genuinely are. He would probably very likely be confused and concerned at some point in the process but then just learn that’s your neurodivergence and that’s just who they are.

Imagine this right-

You’re home alone, right? You’re bored and you have to read a book but you don’t want to read a book in silence and you don’t feel like going to find your headphones to listen to an audiobook. You decide to narrate a book to yourself. You decide to go way back to when you were a kid when your mom would read to you and she would do the voices and funny actions. Honestly, you don’t even realize you’re doing funny actions you’re just reading a book. you are so into this book you don’t hear Kento home.

He stands there by the front door. He’s hung up his jacket, taking off his shoes and he slowly walking towards you. Again- You are so into this book and this narration you got going on you don’t notice a fucking thing. So, finally you finish the chapter. You decide, “I’m done reading for the day.” You close the book put it down on the coffee table. Turn your head and you see him standing there with an amused smile on his face. You are also terrified. This man just saw you reading a book to yourself as if you were a toddler. Doing voices actions the whole 9 yards.

You stare at him as if he caught you stealing. (I mean you did steal his heart but that’s neither here nor there)

“That was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.” He finally says.

Some how that DID NOT quell your embarrassment. It just made it worse. You are redder than red and hide your face behind a sofa pillow.

“Don’t say that!” You practically squeal into the pillow.

He comes over and sits next to you gently taking the pillow away. Your embarrassment has now morphed into shame.

“Oh sweetie, wipe that look off your face. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” God he was so sweet to you.

“You just walked in on me reading to myself like a toddler. I mean I could see if I was babysitting a kid…” You turn your head further away.

Kento takes off his sunglasses and sets them on the coffee table next to your book.

“Sweetie, if reading like that makes it more fun for you - then do it.”

Your brows snapped together and you slowly raise your head to look at him. Not once has anyone told you that kind of behavior is okay. All of your exes called you ‘childish’, ‘weird’ and ‘fucking crazy’. They constantly made fun of you for reading aloud to the point you stopped. But this man… this man right here, sitting next to you just affirmed and validated you. Something no one has done until now.

You stared at him blinking back tears.

“If you want an audience, I’ll be your audience. You can read like that to me any day.” He picked up the book from the table, “Though I am going to need a recap.” He takes a large hand wipes away your budding tears.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You ask nuzzling his hand.

Second is Toji -

So Toji could go one of two ways - he’s either completely OK with it or he isn’t.

It’s like this right- you forget he’s home. He’s just hanging out in another room playing video games or something. So forgetting he’s home you just start being weird. Singing random songs reciting random movie quotes. Dancing as if you have no rhythm. Just whatever your little neurodivergent brain wants at the moment. And then you turn around to see him staring at you very fucking confused.

“What the fuck was that just now?” He says confused and slightly amused.

“When the fuck did you get here?” You ask just as confused and slightly terrified that you’ve scared him off.

“I haven’t left. I’ve been playing video games.” He replies.

Now this is where it can go one of two ways:

1) “I see…” you nod your head, “Well now I’m gonna have to kill you because I can’t have you telling people about what you just saw. You know too much.” You say this with a serious look.

Toji stands there for a split second then just laughs, “Yeah, okay. I’d love to see you try, doll.” He strides over and gives ya a lil kiss.

You make a happy squeak before going back to whatever it was that you were doing.

“Sides, I don’t go around tellin people my business anyway. So, your weirdo secret is safe with me.”

2) “Nope.” He puts his hands up like he’s being held up, “I learned my lesson on stickin’ my dick in crazy. Nope.”

And he nopes out of the relationship faster than he came into it.

Gotta save the strongest for last Gojo Satoru-

I don’t care what the fuck anyone tells me you cannot tell me he does not have some form of ADHD. I don’t care what you say. This relationship would be so chaotic and so funny. Because I feel like he would also quote random movies and TV shows and you just join in and then if and when Yuji is around, he would also do the same thing and vice versa.

Imagine this right-

Y’all are at home making dinner together for the kids. They’re watching a movie upstairs so they hear none of this start.

You’re chopping carrots and they remind you of little legs…

“Run, run, run as fast as you can! You can’t catch me; I’m the gingerbread man!” You say mockingly as you continue to chop the carrots.

On cue, Satoru turns to you with dramatic flair, “You’re a monster!”

It just devolves from there. You two finally get to the part of the scene where Gingy goes, “Do you know the muffin man?”

“The muffin man!?” You ask dramatically.

But before Satoru can say the line the two of you hear from the hall way, “THE MUFFIN MAN!” In the shrillest voice.

It was Yuji who came down to see how dinner was going.

The three of you just stare at each other for a second before bursting out in laughter. It takes like a good three minutes to recover and get back to making dinner but god was that funny.

Honestly,I wasn’t really expecting this to be my first real post but I just found it really funny I mean feel free to comment, re-blog and add whatever. Or hey tell me that my head cannon is stupid and none of this would actually fucking happen. Either way I just thought this was funny and needed to put it somewhere.

Also, please note I am sleep deprived. I got zero sleep last night. It’s also that time of the month for me ladies so with all of that being said, thank you so much for reading this if you read it. if you didn’t - have a good day.

Remember- you are loved, worthy, and valid.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Hazmat Hole 1: Overture

I went back and forth on whether to do the pilot or not, but ultimately decided not to. Pilots are meant to be an episode 0 that isn’t necessary to understanding the plot. I may go back to it after episode 8 if I’m not completely sick of this.

It starts off with a story book narration about how hell started because Lucifer was a rebel or something and just states very vaguely that he had big ideas heaven didn’t like. Also Adam was the first man, Lilith was the first woman but she didn’t like Adam and liked Lucifer better they fell in love or whatever and Lucifer gave Eve the apple and he and Lilith were banished to hell. I wish I could lie and say I was skipping over details but they used more words to explain that in about as much depth as I did there. Anyway. The important part is that Charlie is a princess of hell as the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith and the angels go down to hell annually to purge excess souls.

These two start off annoying and by god I do not see them getting any less so. Charlie is legitimately the most generic Disney Princess rip off I have ever seen in my life, complete with reading books aloud bursting into song. It’s genuinely jarring to hear her swear because you can tell the voice director basically just told her actor to pretend she’s auditioning for the little mermaid. Vaggie is annoying because she’s written like a middle schooler’s first “strong female character”. She’s the emo love interest in a B movie that was straight to video and made by people who don’t actually know what emo is.

Appropriation Deer is literally just here to make wise cracks and occasionally move in ways that make animators cry and deviantart users in 2010 scream in joy.

They could probably cut the budget in half by not having him in the show. Anyway no he is not here to do anything besides whine about how television sucks and emphasize that he’s only there at all because he’s into watching people fail and cry or whatever. He’s very flat as a character since he’s just there to be tumblr bait.

Angel is here and spends the entire episode being sexually aggressive to the point of making everyone there uncomfortable and that’s the entire joke. That’s it. He’s a gay man who says penis and wise cracks and sexually harasses the men in the hotel. Because that is how vivziepop writes her mlm characters.

We get a two for one easy joke with these two. Haha gay man is harassing a man who isn’t gay as well as haha asexual gets hit on but he says no way.

Angel is here because “crack is expensive” and they don’t charge him rent there.

Which he says while drinking a whole bottle of liquor to establish he’s an addict because vivziepop is as subtle as a bull in a China shop.

And thus we are taken to our first musical number. It’s very underwhelming.

Also Vaggie sings like she’s getting over a cold and plugging her nose and trying to do an impression of a duck.

The opening number also leaves me with a perplexing question. Can you die in hell? Do you go to super hell if you die in hell?

And we get our first real sexual harassment/assault joke from a giant slug flasher trying to make Charlie touch him in the middle of a musical number. I’m sure this bodes great for how angel’s abuse will be treated.

I hate that I know this but as someone who did shamefully hate watch sausage party twice I have to point out that Adam here is literally just a rip off of a sausage party character.

Everything down to the voice direction is literally just a rip off of the main antagonist of Sausage Party, the douche. This is probably somewhat intentional as vivziepop was a massive fan of that movie when it came out, but if you’re going to make an homage that borders on plagiarism (this is a joke I’m not accusing her of plagiarism here but it’s giving original character, donut steel), does it have to be from sausage party? Does it really? There’s other movies. Anyway he doesn’t say much, just establishes himself as a douche.

Back at the hotel they start filming a new commercial since Alastor intentionally made their first commercial bad because he wanted to make fun of them and hates TVs just that much. Nothing very interesting happens. Angel is hot horny. Husk doesn’t want to be there. Alastor makes a deal with Vaggie to help as long as she never makes him go on TV again.

We go back to Charlie begging Adam to stop coming to hell and killing demons by the hundreds every year and Adam says no in frankly one of the only songs that I like from this series. Sadly, it’s still terribly annoying and repetitive.

Viv posted meme please clap.

Isn’t this the homophobic character from the pilot? Didn’t realize she was given a male voice to imply she’s either a drag Queen or trans I guess. Great. I’m sure it’s a very artistic and respectful choice and not every other more likely reason this was the casting decision.

The episode ends with the discovery that an Angel was killed during the last extermination so they plan to come back in just six months to kill every demon in hell. I might care if any character established themselves as anything other than a vessel to spout boring exposition and sex jokes for twenty minutes.

And that’s episode one. It’s honestly just boring and all of the explicit language sounds extremely forced and awkward.

0/10, the one okay song wasn’t enough to save it. Too much exposition dumping.

[tossawary]

I'm letting the 1984 "Dune" film play in the background and there's a LOT to say about this beautifully campy ridiculousness, but the part that's really getting me is the "inner voices". The audience at times hears the internal thoughts of various characters, presumably taken largely from the book, in a whispery voice. And it's not even just from Paul! It's from his mother and father and other characters as well, each making various observations and sometimes delivering exposition via their thoughts shared in voiceover narration.

Character A: "Greetings, Character B."

Character B: "A pleasure, Character A."

Character A: (inner voice) "That special outfit indicates that this person is secretly working for our enemies."

I made this exchange up, but that's the vibe here and it's wild. It's shockingly frequent too! Directly sharing character thoughts like this is something I'm used to seeing only in older novels, comics, and anime, due to the strengths and limits of their mediums. Like, the last thing that I was watching with any "tell, don't show" device similar to this was probably "Jojo's Bizarre Adventure"! It's striking (not a compliment) when other live action film (including the most recent "Dune" films) tends to prefer using actors' expressions and body language to communicate certain "unspoken" ideas like suspicion or affection or awe, and to let other sweeping visuals and musical cues speak for themselves as well.

You can also just have the lights go out, zoom in on a character's face, and have them whisper aloud, "Sabotage!" if you need to be that blunt about it, rather than have us hear the character's thoughts directly. You can insert a conversation of "as you know" technobabble between characters if you really have to do hasty exposition.

I don't want to call this film style "bad" exactly, inherently. But it's more than a little confusing when some characters are a little telepathic(?) and lighting is dim, so I'm briefly unsure which characters actually heard certain lines.

And I do personally think this kind of heavy-handed bluntness generally undermines what can be achieved with acting, sound design, music, set design, prop design, costume design, and so on. And I also think that a degree of uncertainty for the audience can be good for tension anyway. These inner thoughts being shared in this film are generally not ideas that couldn't be communicated through acting, visuals, or direct dialogue between characters, so this choice by the film often feels redundant and clumsy to me. Let the actors do what they're good at! Good actors can often communicate their emotions and thoughts to us without words! Or they can at least stand there while a majestic musical score communicates to us the depths of the character's grief and determination.

Like, not every use of voiceover narration in film is a bad thing. It's a choice. Sometimes it works really well and sometimes it doesn't. Voiceover narration often gets used at the beginning of films because it's an efficient way to quickly convey a lot of exposition and set the tone of the story!

But this film seems like it has a bad case of "science fiction is obviously too confusing for movie audiences to follow just by watching the characters move through the world and interact with each other, so we had better hold their hand every step of the way via voiceover narration constantly overshadowing the acting and musical score". It's not really helping the story, in my opinion. It's not letting the film breathe. Though "showing" in storytelling is often preferable, "telling" in a story is not always bad, but damn, this is a LOT of "telling" for an audio-visual medium.

[contritecactite]

Radio Omens time!! Strap in for my subjective personal opinions made by one person about the full-cast radio adaptation of Good Omens.

We're gonna begin with: I am blowing kisses to the scripting/editing/production team. This thing is an impeccable adaptation. Im-pecc-a-ble. The voice talent is fantastic, the energy is stellar, the pacing is excellent, and the sheer amount of atmospheric info they managed to translate into radio-friendly format? Mwah mwah mwah. I think it's the kind of listening format that's not for everyone, but it is SO for me.

Time for some specific highlights! It was a long day so we're a little extra silly this time. It's also long and not in a reasonable order.

(Ok good my page cut is working this time.)

- Good GOD I forgot the primary voices were Like That. I shrieked (happily) as soon as Aziraphale's mouth opened. This is why I travel alone /hj

-- (Incidentally, I said "oh fuck holy shit I can't do this" when Crowley started talking, but I did it anyway *sighs in bisexual*)

- Hheeeennghsh the opening scene in Eden is. The way it's written successfully sets up who Aziraphale and Crowley are, who they're supposed to be to each other, and a hint at who they're going to be to each other later because they are SO delightfully snippy at one another in this scene. Aziraphale's "oh, it's you" and Crowley's "mmhm, yeah, well done on keeping demons away. Bravo" (heavily paraphrased) will be living rent-free in my head until I have time to write a fic about it.

- So, having Aziraphale do the early narration is an excellent way of setting the tone. What I need you to do, if you've only done tv omens (which is so so valid and I think really is another excellent adaptation), is remember Aziraphale's magician persona. And then imagine him being that for the entire story. The pitch, the rate of speech, the slightly frantic energy, the drama: it's all just part of his overarching character in radio omens, and it's SO good for storytelling.

- Radio Crowley knows what's in all of Aziraphale's infamous Bibles so well that he can quote them. I love this detail, I love it as a means of establishing their relationship during their "let's be godfathers" scene, and I love how hard he's ribbing poor Aziraphale about the extra verses in Genesis.

- Radio Crowley is SO like... tender? I mean, all Crowleys are to some extent Soft but something about this one has just a little extra something. I love the way he talks about his temptations and shenanigans. He's so proud. It eases what could feel like needless exposition because he really seems to like explaining his process.

- That's a bit of the same of what I mean about Aziraphale's personality. Since he's very obviously inclined to dramatize a story, exposition just fades neatly into his character rather than grating on the nerves.

- They reference The Arrangement a lot and usually with a great deal of affection. There's one particular time when they even acknowledge something about wanting to protect each other.

- I adore the way Anathema and her ties to Agnes are introduced. It's so concise but meaningful, and it's just the right amount of setup for her character appearing later.

- The baby swap scene in other iterations relies so much on descriptive narrative or visual language, but you know what? The heavily trimmed down version also works surprisingly well.

- Crowley knows about the hellhound way beforehand (and, of course, he tells Aziraphale. They plan their roles for the party years in advance, which is an extremely efficient way of communicating about that scene to the listener).

- At Warlock's party in the book, Crowley gets all suspicious about a gerbil being gifted to him. In the radio drama, Aziraphale wonders aloud if the gerbil might be suspicious and Crowley tells him not to be stupid. Just struck me as a funny thing to shuffle around.

- Adult radio Anathema is everything to me actually.

- Poor Newt's childhood gets skipped over (unless I missed it, which is possible), but I liked his adult introduction as well; it brings in the whole Witchfinder-adjacent cast at once and makes it super clear how they all know each other without lingering.

- Shadwell. Just. The actor's voicework is so evocative of someone who is very gesturally expressive. There's no way he wasn't swinging his hands around in the recording space.

- The Them are all 100% perfect. Shout-out to Adam for that mind-rending scream that I was not expecting to go on for so long. Interestingly, in chapter credits, the Them are not grouped with the humans! This makes sense, but it also made my brain go !!!

- The horsepeople (both original and extra) were also so good, and that chunk of the cast gave the impression of good chemistry, so the scenes were really fun.

- Crowley says Aziraphale's name a lot. A lot a lot. Actually, most people do; probably for simplicity's sake, there's no "Mr. Fell," or "Nanny Ashtoreth," just "Mr. Aziraphale" and "Mr. Crowley."

- Well, Shadwell does say "Mr. A," and there is a Brother Francis.

- One of Nanny's rules for Warlock is "don't talk to the creepy gardener" rkahjdjs Crowley what is wrong with you

- I did in fact let out another sound when the Nanny voice happened. We're not talking about it.

- When applying for the jobs, Aziraphale just straight up calls dibs on gardener and Crowley complains and says something like "can you see me in a skirt?" and Aziraphale just pulls a date at random on which he'd seen Crowley in a skirt. This was probably also in the book, but I noticed it here and didn't there.

- Crowley's idea of something calming to listen to was a radio gardening talk show ;~; and he likes listening to televangelists for the lulz (I have never used that phrase before in my life but I'm keeping it)

- Having him hear Aziraphale possessing the televangelist was absolute genius for keeping the plot cohesive.

- Seance scene continues to be painful ahahaha...

- Hell's emissaries know that Aziraphale was discorporated and they're mean to Crowley about it in a way that implies Hell has long been aware that they're working together. Intriguing...

- There's mention at some point about how no homes in Tadfield have PlayStations or Xboxes, and I think that's a cool bit of writing to establish the time period (along with Newt bricking smartphones, which I think was said at least in breadcrumbs).

- Almost forgot, but Mr. Gaiman and Sir Terry Pratchett being the policemen trying to book Crowley for speeding in the beginning is so cute.

- When Satan is about to show up, Aziraphale worrying about everyone else and Crowley going "and me!" like hello, I am also in danger, that's my boss?? if u even care?? was SO funny in this version to me.

- Look, there were a lot more things, but it's already been several hours since it ended, so I'm sure I'm forgetting many.

- Oh! Pepper's backstory being transformed into her speech to Adam was SO good on so many levels. It really drove home that Adam does love his friends, it deepened their lore gradually, it made Adam's role and decisions very clear, and it also struck me as "Pepper says trans rights" even if that wasn't the intention, so hell yeah.

- The gag reel leads me to believe that Peter Serafinowicz is A) probably the funniest person alive to work with and B) extremely relatable due to the amount of time spent on the struggle bus. Also whoever put the breaking glass sound over all the accidental swears, I love you forever.

[kylieswift31]

Cinderella (Taylor’s Version)

"I had so many dreams about you and me.

Happy endings,

Now I know that I’m not a princess,

This ain’t a fairytale.”

Taylor Swift has been inspired by many fairytales over the years, but one particular character she has continued to reference is Cinderella. This isn't because she wants the prince, the ring or even the castle. The story Taylor has been showing us is about the night she got dressed up and went to the ball, but unlike Cinderella she is still waiting for the clock to strike midnight so that she can return home again.

Once upon a time

Many fairytales begin with the narrator reflecting back on the story in hindsight. The 1950s version of Cinderella starts with a storybook that opens up to reveal that the narrator is reading the book aloud.

Taylor has been referring to herself as the narrator during the eras tour in a similar way because she wants us to see her as the narrator of her own story. The tortured poets department has been pointing us to go back to the beginning for this reason. If we see debut as the prologue and the tortured poets department as the epilogue, Taylor's story begins with fearless and ends with midnights.

The housemaid

The death of Cinderella's father left her in the care of her new stepmother. Amidst her grief, Cinderella’s stepmother revealed her true colours before banishing her to move into the attic and she became the servant of the house.

It appears Taylor faced a similar journey as she went from chasing her dream of sharing her music with the world, to being confronted with reality following the release of fearless. As a young woman Taylor was picked apart for everything she did that her male colleagues were praised for, and no matter how hard she worked over the years it was never enough for the backlash to subside. Now that she's at the peak of her career, this animosity is arguably worse than ever. All of this mistreatment she has faced is what has lead to Taylor hiding parts of herself from the public.

The carriage

Cinderella's fairy godmother appeared after her stepmother and stepsisters had ruined her dress. She helped by turning a pumpkin into a carriage so that Cinderella could attend the ball in the hopes of meeting the prince.

Taylor's journey to the country music awards was a little less magical, but she did ride in a pumpkin shaped carriage that was inspired by Cinderella. This was a fitting entrance considering the fairytale themes featured throughout her fearless album.

The ball

The fairy godmother replaced Cinderella's tattered dress with a ball gown. This allowed her to attend the ball where she spent the night dancing, but hadn't realised she was dancing with the prince at the time.

Following the success of her fearless album, Taylor attended the country music awards. The night started with Taylor performing for the audience and ended with her accepting the most coveted award of the night, the entertainer of the year award.

The party is over

Cinderella’s night ended as she heard the clock begin to chime. She fled from the castle and lost her glass slipper on the way out, leaving the prince wondering how to find her again.

Before Taylor could finish her speech, Kanye West stormed onto the stage and ripped the microphone out of her hands. He had interrupted her acceptance speech to proclaim that Beyonce should have won the award instead of Taylor. This encounter is the epitome of how little respect so many people within the music industry and media had for her at the time. Taylor put on a brave face for the interviews that followed the awards show, but on the inside she felt humiliated.

Midnight

Cinderella's fairy godmother had warned her that when the clock struck midnight she would return to who she was before the ball, causing her to flee before the spell wore off.

Unlike Cinderella, Taylor never stood a chance of transforming back to her old self when the night ended because of her encounter with Kanye. Instead the pop star version of Taylor was frozen in time, unable to return home to reunite with the queer version of herself. This traumatic experience on stage is what contributed to the queer side of Taylor becoming metaphorically exiled and hidden from the public view indefinitely.

Exiled

Cinderella’s stepmother locked her away in the attic as a punishment when she discovered that Cinderella had snuck out to attend the ball. This was also an attempt to prevent her from seeing the prince again.

We see many versions of Taylor being exiled throughout her career. She's been buried, locked away in the vault, abandoned in the cabin, in a casket for her funeral and locked away in the asylum. Meanwhile, the pop star version of Taylor had to go on with the show. This separation between the two then lead to new versions of Taylor being added with each new era over time, all playing their part until they could reunite once more.

If the shoe fits

When Cinderella fled from the ball she left behind her glass slipper. The had prince decreed that every maiden in the kingdom was to try the shoe on, in hopes of finding who it belonged to. Cinderella escaped her confines just in time try on the shoe.

Taylor's mismatched shoes and outfits for the 1989 set are similar to the contrasting colours Cinderella’s stepsisters wore each day. The reputation bodysuit has a similar shape reminiscent of Cinderella's missing shoe too. But the final puzzle piece of the missing shoe seems to be the remaining rerecords.

And they lived happily ever after

When the narrator reaches this part of the story, they're doing so with hindsight because the story has already ended. Therefore the narrator is retelling the story for us to understand her journey. Cinderella's story ends when she reunites with the prince and they live happily ever after.

Taylor has been telling us her story through her music, public appearances, social media and throughout the eras tour. And if the tortured poets department is the epilogue, Midnights is the final chapter. Taylor's version of a happily ever after will finally occur when the pop star version of Taylor reaches midnight and is reunited with the queer version of herself that is stuck in the shadows.

Queer Taylor- "I don't wanna live forever"

"I'm gonna get you back" -pop star Taylor

❤️💔❤️‍🩹

A tortured poet,

Kylie x

P.S. Will we meet Taylor at 12am on the 12th of December 2024?

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Her Voice

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Smutty Audiobook Narrator!Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting will be blocked.

Length: 3.2K

Notes: No physical descriptions of the Reader (there are descriptions of characters that are not the reader in the story); no use of y/n

Okay. So. I got this idea today and it would not leave me alone so. Here ya go. It's a little out of the ordinary from my usual? I think the POV shifts from Matt to what's being read are clear, but please let me know if they're not.

Warnings: Voyeurism; voice kink; scent kink; dirty talk; daddy kink; spanking; masturbation; Matt Murdock's Opinions on Some Romance Novel Verbiage which are also my opinions shut up

Summary: It had become his guilty pleasure. There were some nights that he loathed his duties to Hell’s Kitchen, and missed the sound of her voice caressing each sultry, salacious syllable. 

When she had moved in, he could never have known that his otherwise mild-mannered and church-mouse quiet new neighbor would have such a smutty evening occupation. The first time he’d heard it, he thought that she may be reading aloud to herself, that she had some sort of fetish for her own voice. He’d understand if she did—he'd certainly developed one.

It had become his guilty pleasure. There were some nights that he cursed his duties to Hell’s Kitchen, and missed the sound of her voice caressing each sultry, salacious syllable. 

That night, he caught on a phone call of hers—a complaint about a broken mic, a contract, a quick turnaround, and a plea for a replacement mic. She was nervous. Matt could hear her heart pounding in panic. The package had arrived just an hour later, and she thanked the delivery person enthusiastically. Another phone call had been made (to a boss or an agent, Matt wasn’t sure). 

“I’m one chapter out,” She said. “I’ll have it in by nine.” 

What had followed had been some pacing, some vocal warm-ups and tongue twisters. Matt found himself waiting with bated breath. He had missed most of the recording of this latest project, and had somewhat shamefully been hanging around his apartment that evening, rather than grabbing a drink at Josie’s with Foggy and Karen. He settled on his couch, laying down and letting his ears filter out the noise of the street below, and the sounds of the other apartments around them. He closed his eyes, and just let himself listen to her: 

“Maddox strode across the room, shedding his jacket as he did so. Eleanor watched as the meticulously tailored garment crumpled on the floor. Before she could open her mouth to protest, Maddox raised a hand, curling it around the supple skin of her throat.” 

Matt licked his lips, a smile pulling at his face as he heard her heartbeat tick up. She must’ve liked that. 

“‘You are sorely mistaken’,” She went on, lowering her voice a touch, approximating a man’s tone. It was always strange to Matt that this was the route taken, rather than subbing in a man’s voice from chapter to chapter. “‘My interest in Zufiya was purely transactional.’” 

“And this? What has this been if not transactional?” 

Matt smiled. She was so quick to shift from one voice to the other. He’d heard it time and again, but it always fascinated him. 

“Maddox’s expression seemed to melt at the subdued fury in Eleanor’s amber eyes. His hand gently smoothed along the side of her neck, his knuckle skating across her jaw. Eleanor could feel a softening in her chest, the chains that she’d wound around her heart breaking one by one. She needed to step away. She knew that if she was in his company for one moment longer, she would yield to him.” 

Yield. Yield was a good word. There were some words used in these books that Matt found utterly laughable, but the yearning press that she’d put on yield made him shift on his couch, his cock giving a belated twitch in his pants. 

“Eleanor took a half-step back, and winced as she felt the hard press of the brick wall behind her. Oh, god.” 

Oh god indeed. She had loosed that last utterance with a breathy little moan—one that Matt would give anything to hear and feel right up against his cheek. 

“If she had had a lick of sense, she would’ve ordered him out. Hell—she never should’ve let him in in the first place. But as Maddox braced his hands on the wall behind her, Eleanor felt her remaining inhibitions crumbling. 

"‘If I cared about Zufiya, would I be here now?’ Maddox murmured. ‘You think I would chase her halfway across the world like this? Follow her to the ends of the fucking Earth if I had to?’ His hand lifted from her cheek, his finger trailing across her plush, trembling bottom lip. ‘If that’s truly what you think of me, Ellie, then you don’t know me at all.’ 

“Eleanor’s knees weakened as Maddox’s lips covered hers in a hungry kiss. Her hands raised on instinct, intent on pushing him away, but her traitorous fingers curled around his collar. She used her last vestiges of strength to haul him closer, her mouth falling open in a moan as she felt his cock coming alive in his pants.” 

Matt found himself torn between arousal and laughter. Coming alive? Did he have a Franken-cock? Or was this one a vampire, too? She’d read a few of those. They hadn’t been Matt’s favorite—and he’d been more than a little conflicted when one of them had also been a priest. 

“Eleanor choked on a breath as Maddox reached down, gripping her shirt and yanking it harshly, sending its mother of pearl buttons scattering across the floor. She would give him hell for that later. For now, she let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes sliding shut as Maddox leaned down, ravaging her breasts.” 

Ravaging. It was another verb that Matt didn’t particularly care for from day to day, but he was more than happy to hear it coming from her mouth. He found himself lowering his hand, absently palming his hardening cock through his pants. He always felt a little…Guilty, doing this. Maybe it was wrong, but others would eventually be listening to this too, right? He was just at a different place in the production and sales process. Maybe he could think of it as a free sample. 

“‘Take your shirt off,’ Eleanor begged. ‘I want to touch you.’” 

Her pleas were so sweet. They made Matt’s eyes squeeze shut, his fingers flexing around his length. Did she really sound like that when she begged? When she was in the throes of passion? Or did she prefer to make others bed? He wanted to know, and it was becoming increasingly irritating to be deprived of that knowledge. He’d never heard her with anyone in her apartment, or getting off alone. Maybe she was with someone and went to theirs instead. He had no way of knowing—he’d never actually met her. He’d just fallen for her voice through their walls. 

“'How do we ask for what we want, Ellie?’ Maddox goaded. Eleanor swallowed thickly, her doe-like eyes batting up at him. He could see the fight that she was having within herself—her damnable and fierce independence was battling the joy that she found in submitting to his him. She swept her tongue across her kiss-blushed lips before she said the two little words that Maddox had become so hooked on: 

‘Please, daddy.’” 

Matt’s surprise pushed a grunt out of him, a shaky little laugh leaving him. Oh. Shit. He fumbled a little, shoving his shirt up a bit and pushing his hand beneath the band of his sweatpants. 

“‘That’s my good girl’.”

She liked that, too. Matt could sense the heat rising in her body, hear the way her heart was thudding more roughly in her chest. He tipped his head, drawing in a deep breath. The scent of her was faint, but more than enough for him to seek out and hold to. His hand tightened around his hardening length, stroking himself with indulgent slowness. He knew well enough by now to take his time when he listened to her. 

“Maddox hooked his finger in the waistband of her tight pencil skirt, towing her from the wall to the kitchen table. If he felt that they had more time, or that he had more patience, he would’ve taken her to her canopy bed just down the hall. But he needed Eleanor in that moment, and he could see from the desperate, cock-dumb way that he followed that she needed him just as badly. 

“Maddox reached out, swiping the contents of the table onto the floor, uncaring of the mugs, dishes, pens, papers, and magazines that were scattered and shattered as a result. He was desperate to spread her wide, to hear her whimpers and sighs as he pleased her with this tongue and fingers before giving her his cock. He wanted to banish any notion of their argument, of Zufiya, of their arrangement from her mind. He wanted to pull her apart and put her together again in the way that only he knew how—in the way that no other man would ever know her. Eleanor Lewis was his, and he would never squander her time or attentions again. 

“Maddox leaned away despite the way she whimpered, though the sound plucked at his heartstrings. He took hold of her hand, placing it over his hardening length and urging her fingers to squeeze around him before he raised his hands to undo the line of buttons on his shirt. 

"‘So, you’ll tear my shirt to bits, but take time with yours?’ Eleanor pouted. ‘That’s not very nice.’

"Maddox flashed a shark-line grin as he shrugged off his shirt, revealing his broad, muscled chest. 

"‘You ought to know by now that I’m not very nice,’ Maddox teased in turn. He reached down, shoving the fabric of her skirt up around her hips. He’d take his time undressing her properly later, but now, he wanted to give them both what they were desperate for. Eleanor watched, stunned, as her dom and protector lowered himself to his knees in front of her, tugging off the scrap of lace that was covering her dripping cunt.” 

Matt let out a shaky breath as he sensed her leaning back from her mic, and heard the way she swallowed quickly. The scent of her was becoming stronger. Matt drew his cock out from the band of his sweatpants. He wanted to be buried between her thighs, to take in the scent from the source, and feel the pulse of her needy pussy. 

“Eleanor lowered a hand to steady herself against the table as Maddox leaned in, bracing his palms on her legs and running the tip of his tongue along her weeping slit. A low growl emitted from his chest as he tasted her, his fingers flexing in the pillow-soft flesh of her thighs. Eleanor shivered and let her head fall back, her auburn curls brushing the mahogany wood of the table as she tipped her hips down toward him.” 

Matt could sense her shifting in her seat, her hand rising to pull her collar away from her neck a little. Maybe she didn’t have someone elsewhere. Maybe she was all wound up, and all alone. 

“Eleanor jolted a touch as she felt Maddox’s fingers tap, then gently ease into her weeping hole.” 

Matt winced. Weeping hole? That sounded like a wound. 

“Her body tightened around him of its own volition, a shaky whimper dropping from her mouth as Maddox sealed his lips around her swollen bud. The tip of his tongue teased and flicked over her clit, his fingers curling and thrusting as he knew she liked. Eleanor lowered a hand to run his fingers through his hair, fingers twitching and tugging as Maddox’s fingertips brushed the spot inside of her that made her toes curl.” 

Matt groaned softly as he swept his thumb along the head of his cock, smearing the swelling bead of precum as he raked his other hand through his hair, giving it a light tug. Would she tug? He’d want her to. Matt’s heart was pounding in his chest as he raised his hand, lapping wetly across his palm before desperately taking himself in hand again. 

“‘Maddox—Oh!’ Eleanor gasped as Maddox reared back, his lips and chin shining with her juices, and his eyes narrowed in warning.

"‘Daddy—Daddy, I’m sorry—’ She stammered, but it was too little too late. Maddox slipped his fingers from her, straightening. Her eyes darted to his erect length in his pants. She only had a second to look before Maddox grasped her by the waistband of her skirt again, yanking her up and turning her. He placed a rough hand between her shoulders, shoving her down. She braced her hands before she could face plant into the wood, her body tingling with the knowledge of her incoming punishment.

"‘Count,’ Was the order that left Maddox’ gruff mouth. It was chased by a rough slap and sting. Eleanor’s empty pussy ached and throbbed, a counter to the pleasurable pain rippling across her backside. Her jaw fell open, eyes squeezing shut as she managed to weakly whimper, ‘One’.”

Matt pulled his hand off of his cock with a groan, fisting his greedy fingers in the fabric of his sweatpants. He was too close—he could feel his orgasm brewing, his balls pulling tight. He took in a deep breath, steadying himself, and trying to slow the rough pounding of his heart. But he didn’t stop listening. He couldn’t if he tried. 

“The following blows rained along Eleanor’s backside unerringly. She pushed each number out obediently, even as her voice shook and broke. By the time he reached ten, Eleanor’s cheeks were wet with tears, and her cunt was sopping. Maddox sighed softly through his nose, smoothing his hand over her heated skin. He dipped his head, brushing a kiss to her quaking shoulders and pushing his body up against hers. His trousers brushed roughly against her sensitive ass. She just shivered and pushed her pleading body back toward his.” 

Matt listened as she pulled in a deep breath, shifting on her chair. Did she want to chase the feeling that was welling slickness up between her thighs? He could only imagine the way she would, pushing and rolling her thighs to chase the pressure, and to loosen the knot that this job was working her up into. 

“That’s my good girl,’ Maddox purred again, smoothing his hands over her shaking sides. He reached up, quickly working at the clasp of her bra. The straps slid down her trembling arms, and he reached around, tugging the cups down to expose her more fully to him. Maddox gently gathered her hair and pushed it from her nape, pressing a kiss there.

"‘Can you take me just like this?’ He murmured. Her head hung low as she nodded, but Maddox tsk’d softly. He curled his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back and listening to her throaty moan. ‘You know I need to hear it, Eleanor. Do you want another punishment?’ 

"Her body and her mind screamed two different things, but her body won out. She whined, ‘No, Daddy. I can take you just—just like this. Please, Daddy.’” 

Matt couldn’t help how quickly he reached down to grasp himself again. The way she begged was so goddamn irresistible. Every whimper and whine, and every pleading syllable that she pushed through her lips made heat flash across his body. 

“Maddox kept a vice-like grip on her hair as he reached down, undoing his belt and zip with one hand. He drew his cock out, stroking over it a couple of times before using her hair to pull her upright. Eleanor's lips dropped open in a moan, the sound muffled as he shoved and plunged his fingers into her mouth. She gagged, her nose filling with the scent of herself, and her tongue bursting with her own taste. Maddox watched as her eyelids fluttered, tears welling and slipping down her round cheeks as she obediently struggled, keeping her mouth wide open. Maddox drew his fingers from her, nuzzling her heated cheek as he lowered his spit-slicked digits to grasp himself. He stroked over his length before he steered himself into Eleanor’s grasping, needy cunt.

“He hardly gave her a moment to adjust, and she hardly seemed to need it. Eleanor came with a shout, her sensitive pussy tightening around Maddox’s cock as he set a punishing pace. He rode her through her orgasm, his hands grasping, pinching and pulling her sensitive nipples as he rutted into her. His name fell from her lips like a desperate prayer. He looked down, eyeing her pert, bouncing ass as he nailed her with harsh, deep thrusts. Maddox curled over Eleanor, letting go of her breasts and pressing his body up against hers as he buried his face in her neck, drawing in her tempting scent.

‘Is that what you needed, Eleanor?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

‘What do you say?’

‘Thank you Daddy, thank you!’” 

Matt’s mouth fell open in a pant as he pushed his hips up into his hand. He was dancing dangerously close to the edge. Her voice was all-consuming, painting the picture as if it was for his ears only. He heard her move and growled as her scent overwhelmed him. She’d spread her legs. Matt would give anything to slot between them—to give her his lips, his tongue, his fingers, his cock, any goddamn thing she wanted. 

Matt planted his heels in the cushions of the couch, bracing and straining as his orgasm crept closer. 

“Eleanor’s fingers grasped weakly at the edges of the table, her legs shaking as the head of Maddox’s cock raked over her g-spot. 

‘Are you going to cum again, you sweet, greedy girl?’ Maddox chuckled. 

‘Yes, Daddy—But—’

‘But what?’

‘Wanna wait for—for you.’ 

“Eleanor’s insistence was labored, her words jolting with each rough shove of his hips. Maddox’s chest flooded with affection. In that moment, he wanted to give Eleanor everything—his cock, his cum, his goddamn heart. He slipped his fingers between her slick thighs, swiping at her clit with indulgent roughness, grinning as she loosed a stunned scream and tightened around his cock. He was just behind, his cock pulsing and spilling into her hungry cunt.” 

Matt’s cheeks pinked as his hips stuttered, his cock spurting across his stomach and chest. He pushed out a long, low moan. Fuck. Matt tipped his head back against the arm of his couch, his chest rising and falling as he blinked, gathering himself. She was still going on the other side of the wall—still reading, still shifting, still fighting to keep her own blatant arousal out of her voice. 

“Maddox kept a palm pressed carefully to the table to steady them both, resting his forehead between her shoulder blades. He cupped her still-throbbing cunt, grunting as she pushed her hips back against him.

‘...I think you broke my favorite mug,’ Eleanor managed after a few moments, her voice rough from their exertion. ‘And you definitely ruined my favorite shirt.’ 

‘Forgive me,’ Maddox murmured. 

‘Prove that you’re sorry.’ 

“Maddox chuckled, lifting his chin and sinking his teeth into her shoulder, grinning as she gasped and writhed at the sudden burst of pain. 

“‘Babygirl,’ He murmured as he lifted his head from her throbbing skin. ‘You ought to know by now that you shouldn’t try to give me orders.’”

It was quiet for a moment. Then, Matt heard her click something. She sighed, pulling her headphones off of her ears. He could sense her standing and walking from one place to another. It was chased by the sound of her turning the faucet on, of a glass being filled, and then three greedy gulps. She sighed again, setting the glass down before she muttered, “Son of a bitch.” 

Matt laughed softly, raising a hand to scrub across his face. It was like he was sobering up, the noise of the street and the other apartments beginning to come back to his consciousness, and the feeling of his cum cooling on his belly. 

“Son of a bitch,” He agreed softly.

Tag list: @mattmurdocksscars; @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ;  @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce 

[vickyvicarious]

Another thing I didn't mention the other week that kills me about 'The Plan That Failed' is the way Griffin's name is used. This is following up on a pattern I noticed a little bit ago, but... in a really sad way.

So, Kemp never calls Griffin by name. When they first met, he repeated the name back in confusion, but never actually acknowledged aloud that the person he is talking to is the Griffin he vaguely remembers. Or at least, while he does so by implication, he doesn't do so by name:

“Griffin,” answered the Voice. A younger student than you were, almost an albino, six feet high, and broad, with a pink and white face and red eyes, who won the medal for chemistry.” “I am confused,” said Kemp. “My brain is rioting. What has this to do with Griffin?” “I am Griffin.” Kemp thought. “It’s horrible,” he said. “But what devilry must happen to make a man invisible?”

Kemp goes right to the concept of 'a man becoming invisible' rather than lingering in any way on 'so you are Griffin'. And in the moment, that sort of makes sense. Apparently he barely remembers Griffin from school (if at all), and so there's no particular shock of recognition for him. It's more shock at what's going on. But then after that, a distinct pattern begins to emerge, where Kemp only calls him by name when he's being vulnerable/civilized. When he is afraid of Griffin's violence, or thinking of him as something monstrous, he calls him by some kind of title, usually 'The Invisible Man'. And it's rare for Griffin to get his name used at all.

But even all of that was still just in the narration. Of course, the way this book is written as a sort of adaptation of various peoples' stories of what they remember may mean none of the dialogue has to be taken as exact. But still, even in that case it's notable that not once does Kemp call Griffin by any sort of name out loud. That whole pattern I've been discussing is only in his narration. At no point in any of their dialogue does he call him Invisible Man, but he also never calls him Griffin. The only way he addresses him directly, ever is "you." In contrast, Griffin says "Kemp" to him quite often.

So there's a distinct imbalance there too. Griffin is confiding his past, giving vent to his emotions, hoping for understanding and using Kemp's name often as an interjection which affirms a connection between the two of them. Meanwhile Kemp is walking a fine line verbally between outright either acknowledging Griffin's humanity (by using his name) or totally denying it (by directly addressing him with a title). This of course reflects his thoughts and also his actions, as he's listening to Griffin's story but in large part only to buy time so he can be caught.

But then... that changes.

Kemp’s hand went to his moustache. Was that a movement downstairs? “And it is killing we must do, Kemp.” “It is killing we must do,” repeated Kemp. “I’m listening to your plan, Griffin, but I’m not agreeing, mind. Why killing?” [...] “Humph!” said Kemp, no longer listening to Griffin but to the sound of his front door opening and closing. “It seems to me, Griffin,” he said, to cover his wandering attention, “that your confederate would be in a difficult position.” “No one would know he was a confederate,” said the Invisible Man, eagerly. And then suddenly, “Hush! What’s that downstairs?” “Nothing,” said Kemp, and suddenly began to speak loud and fast. “I don’t agree to this, Griffin,” he said. “Understand me, I don’t agree to this. Why dream of playing a game against the race? How can you hope to gain happiness? Don’t be a lone wolf. Publish your results; take the world—take the nation at least—into your confidence. Think what you might do with a million helpers—”

Suddenly we get Kemp calling Griffin by his name, out loud, several times in rapid-fire. At first, I noticed this particularly because the first time he does so is right after Griffin proclaims that they will need to kill people. Also, every single time he says it, it's paired with his own doubts/refusal to agree to this plan. But while that is all true, it's not the most significant detail here. More salient, I think, is the way that every use of Griffin's name is immediately preceded by mention of people arriving to capture him.

When Kemp finally calls Griffin by name, it's done in a clear attempt to distract him. The only time he grants him the courtesy of reaching out to him as a fellow human in this way is a lie. He's trying to use that connection in order to trick Griffin. He's essentially treating Griffin's name (which after the pattern in narration seems so clearly to me to be essentially shorthand for his humanity) as a tool to arrest him.

Honestly, this entire situation is pretty messed up all around. It's hard to say that either Marvel or Kemp ever really 'betray' Griffin, because they were never given even footing with him in the first place. They certainly didn't choose to help him, they both felt coerced. And yet, this moment... really does feel like a betrayal. It feels cruel, somehow adds insult to injury.

Kemp has been teetering between considering/treating Griffin as a fellow human, or the Invisible Man a monster. Certainly, the scales have been tipping steadily towards the latter, but it's not until this moment that everything comes crashing down. And it feels like such a bitter extra sting of irony that when it does happen, when the moment comes, he calls him by name.

But he's committed to the opposite course.

[melishade]

Number 48?

This ask game

asked so far.

Optimus caught in a rather sweet predicament with the Warrior Cadets in the Dark Timeline

"Hey, Eren," Reiner walked up to the other titan shifter. He still felt a little uncomfortable addressing him by name. He was still getting used to the fact that they were on speaking terms. He expected Eren to greet him with venom, but Eren waved a simple 'hello'. He smiled even. It probably helped that Optimus was back on his feet again. Everyone couldn't help but be worried for the titan's health.

"Have you seen Gabi and her friends by any chance?" he had asked Eren.

"No." Eren shook his head as he wiped his face with a towel, "I just finished training with Megatron."

"I just haven't seen Gabi and she needs to rest and take her medicine. Do you think you can help me find her?" Reiner asked.

"Sure," Eren agreed as he put down the towel, "We can always ask Optimus, since she seems to be attached to him."

"I just...find it weird," Reiner confessed, "That Gabi would adore a titan of all things."

"Well Optimus tends to have that effect on people," Eren shrugged, "C'mon. Let's ask Hanji. They saw him last."

===

"I told him to take a break," Hanji explained, "He's been trying to go above and beyond without actually recovering from his injuries."

"Do you know where he could have gone?" Reiner asked, "I really do need to find Gabi and Optimus might know where she is."

"Well...," Hanji pondered the thought, "If Optimus did take my advice, he might be at his library?"

"Library?" Reiner questioned in surprise.

"The library's been closed since we heard about Shockwave," Eren recalled.

"Well, Optimus cares too much about that place, and knowing him, he'd reopen it to the public to give some people joy," Hanji reasoned, "Try there, and if you can't find him there, we'll call Buckethead so he can drag Optimus back to the neutral ship."

==

Later

Reiner and Eren had arrived to the building Eren described on horseback. Both jumped off of their shared horse and Eren tied the reigns to a tree.

"So...this is it?" Reiner asked.

"Yep," Eren answered before noticing Optimus' alt mode sitting there, "And Optimus is here too."

"Why does Optimus have a library?" Reiner asked as they walked up to the door.

"We gave it to him as a gift," Eren explained as he opened the door, "Optimus misses his home, so we thought that we could bring parts of his home to him."

"He can't go back?" Reiner asked.

"Before he couldn't," Eren answered, "But with Wheeljack and Arcee's help, he-!" Eren paused when he heard a familiar voice from an open door down the hall. Eren quickened the pace, forcing Reiner to follow after him. When both titan shifters arrived, they were met with the sight of the library, cleaned from top to bottom. There were a few books on the ground, but also on the ground, was Optimus' holoform. His back was propped up against the front of his desk and he was reading aloud to his audience.

Said audience consisted of the Warrior Cadets, who were cuddled up against each other and against the Prime. Falco was propped up next to Colt, while Colt's head rested on Optimus' right shoulder. Meanwhile, Udo and Zofia rested next to each other on Optimus' lap. Many of them had fallen asleep to Optimus' narration of the book except for Gabi. The girl clung to Optimus' left arm and snuggled close to the Prime. She tried to keep herself awake to listen to Optimus speak, but her eyes were starting to droop from exhaustion.

Reiner couldn't help but gawk at the sight of the Warrior Cadets being so comfortable around Optimus. He turned his attention to Eren, but he noticed that he looked so relieved to see Optimus so well-rested and content. Reiner wanted to say something, but he decided to let it go. The Warrior Cadets needed this moment of peace.

(64 has been asked! For what's left, we have: 42, 51, 52, 55, 57, 62, 63, 65-69, 74, 76, 84, and 85)

[straightupsickfics]

another lovesick afternoon

literally genuinely 2.5k words of modern au ed and stede being the softest grossest saps you ever did see while ed gets a cold. and i, personally, love that for them. and me. <3

****

“God, fuck, this is good, are you sure you don’t want to… well, no, probably not a good idea,” Ed says, offering Stede a sip of his iced mocha coffee and pulling it away all in one fell swoop. 

Stede pouts, though Ed knows he had no real intention of drinking it. Ed likes his coffee sweet enough to give Stede a toothache, and while Stede enjoys the occasional sweet himself, the scone he has beside him is more than enough to do the job for him. 

“Think I’m catching a cold or something,” Ed explains. He’d woken up this morning with the first twinges of a sore throat, the start of a runny nose, but had powered through a shower and felt mostly fine after some water and orange juice.

Still, Stede gives a little squeak of protest.

“You should’ve said!” Stede tells him. “I could’ve brought coffee home for us.”

Ed rolls his eyes and smiles fondly. “S’nothing yet, a little sore throat, a few sniffles, that’s all. Didn’t you drag Lucius to a concert while he was sick a few weeks ago?” 

Stede’s eyes narrow. “He wasn’t sick, for one thing, Edward, he had a hangover, and that was his own fault. And besides, it’s different…” 

Different when it’s you.

Stede doesn’t finish the thought aloud, but Ed knows what he means, and his warm, fond smile is all the confirmation Ed needs that he’s right. 

Ed lets his hand rest on Stede’s hand while they drink their coffee and eat their croissants. They hadn’t had much hope of finding a spot in the park on a morning as nice as this one, but a bench had opened up just as they’d arrived, perfect timing, and Ed had all but sprinted over to it to stop it being taken. 

“You almost took out that old woman,” Stede had admonished him between fits of laughter. 

“I did not!” 

“You’re going to be on the news! Beautiful man takes down senior citizen,” Stede had narrated in his best newscaster impression. 

Ed had snorted a laugh at this, which only made Stede laugh harder, until they were two grown men dissolving into a helpless fit of laughter on a park bench on a weekend morning. It was, honestly, a perfect morning. 

“What’s next on your list?” Ed asks now, leaning over and brushing a crumb from the corner of Stede’s mouth. 

Stede seems to falter for a minute, unsure. “Well, we don’t need to go anywhere else if you’re not feeling up to it—” He says quickly. And while he’s right, they don’t need to be anywhere. They aren’t “running errands” so much as moseying around their little town, enjoying the warmth of the day and each other’s company.

“We can just as easily do that at home,” Stede insists. 

“I’m not on my deathbed, love, seriously. You said you wanted to look at books for six or seven hours, didn’t you?” 

Stede’s still sputtering a protest as Ed gets to his feet and offers Stede his hand, laughing. 

*

Stede Bonnet really could look at books for hours on end if he was left to his own devices, and it’s kind of fucking adorable. Ed turns a corner and finally finds his husband crouched down and reading the back of a hardback book, completely lost in his own, fictional world. 

“So, you come here often?” Ed asks, voice low, mouth close to Stede’s ear. He smiles when Stede’s neck and cheeks flush a pale shade of pink in surprise. 

“Ah! Every now and then,” Stede squeaks, struggling to his feet. Ed offers him his hand and tugs him to his feet, wrapping an arm around Stede’s waist to balance him. 

It’s Stede’s favorite store, full to bursting with books on shelves and stacked in piles, full of big windows that leave the whole store entirely drenched in sun on bright sunny mornings. Like this one, with the sun hitting the blond in Stede’s hair just so and making it look like it’s made of pure sunshine. 

Stede is pure sunshine, Ed thinks to himself. They come here just about as often as they can, Ed happy enough to trail behind Stede and listen to plot summaries and debates over when to buy the hardback and when to wait for the paperback. Their shelves at home were bursting, too, but they always managed to find room. 

“Y'good?” 

Stede’s still flushed as he nods, apparently happy enough to have Ed half hold him up in the back of the store. Which is more than fine with Ed, too. 

“Look at this,” Stede says finally, holding out a book for Ed to inspect, something about Greek mythology that he’s had his eye out for. He explains the story to Ed who really does listen as best as he can, but finds himself almost immediately distracted by the animated expressions that dance across Stede’s face, the way he talks with his hands and explains every last detail… 

“Sorry, went off on a bit of a tangent,” Stede says, finally winding himself down. “You didn’t need to know all that.” He’s stuck at a crossroads between embarrassed and apologetic and Ed shakes his head, stopping it in its tracks. 

“Sure I did, fucking fascinating,” he promises. 

Stede smiles, then leans in to kiss him. “I know that’s not true, but I love you.” 

“Love you, too,” Ed says. He lets Stede guide him through the rest of the store, lets himself be talked into another black leather notebook that he definitely doesn’t need, and Stede only fusses a little when Ed has to duck to the side and cough into his elbow. His nose has started to run here and there, enough that he has to say yes to the packet of tissues Stede offers him in the car. 

“Fucking hate this time of year,” Ed grouses. “Germs everywhere, always end up coming down with something…” 

“Poor Ed,” Stede coos at him, only a hint of teasing in his voice. He lays a hand on Ed’s knee and offers to drive, but Ed just shakes his head determined to continue their day out as planned. He rubs his nose into the handful of tissues a final time before pulling out of the parking spot and onto the road. 

There’s a craft store not far from the bookstore, and Stede insists it's only fair that they pop in for Ed since they did the bookstore for so long, and Ed doesn’t have the energy (or, really, the desire) to argue. 

If Stede can spend hours looking at books, Ed could just as easily spend hours browsing yarn and textiles and fabrics, running them through his fingers and dreaming up projects, matching them to patterns he has saved across a million tabs on his phone… 

“Oh! This is a nice one, I think,” Stede says, holding up a bright yellow skein of soft, expensive yarn. “Feel that!” He holds it out for Ed enthusiastically.

It really is nice, and extra soft, perfect for the upcoming fall season. Ed does like to make Stede a sweater every year, and he’d found the perfect sunflower pattern and bookmarked it the other day. 

“Love that,” Ed agrees, and tosses it into his hand basket — he hadn’t even bothered pretending that he wouldn’t be leaving the store without at least a few things, and now he has to find some complementary gold hues for the sweater he’d definitely be making for Stede. 

“You don’t have to…” Stede starts, but Ed quiets him with a look. 

“Well, now I’ve gone and germed it up, so… Had something in mind anyway,” Ed assures him when Stede gives him a worried little frown. “You’ll love it, trust me.” 

“That I do,” Stede smiles, and follows him through the aisle and helping him pick out a few more shades of yarn. 

Ed could browse all day, normally, but today he feels himself starting to drag a little. His head is starting to hurt, and the sore throat from this morning is coming back in full force, too. He stops to sneeze into his elbow when Stede wanders off down another aisle, just two quick, muffled hht’mpsh! Etshhh! sneezes, and still he hears Stede’s voice making its way to him, though Stede himself is still out of sight. 

“Bless you!” 

Ed smiles a little as he digs in his pocket for the last of the tissues Stede had given him earlier. They probably had to go home at this rate, what with his nose in rare fucking form and his head throbbing the way it is. 

With a sigh, Ed goes to find his husband. 

*

“hhh’ISCHih! h’sschUH!”

“Bless—”

“hd’ISCHuh! Eh’sschIEW! hh'iiishhh!”

“...you! Goodness, that’s a lot of sneezes, isn’t it? Are you sure you really need to work on that just now?” Stede asks. 

Ed sniffles, then sniffles again, then gives up and reaches for another tissue and rubs his nose into it. Blowing it doesn’t seem to do much of anything, just irritates things enough to make him sneeze again, which he’s already getting fucking tired of. 

He looks down at the granny square he’d been ignoring in favor of his cold for the last thirty minutes and realizes that Stede is probably right, he’s not going to make any more progress today. He can barely focus on anything with the sneezing or coughing or sniffling or some other cold symptom fighting for his attention. 

“I thought so,” Stede says gently, tucking his bookmark into his book and setting it, along with Ed’s crochet work, on the coffee table. “Why don’t you let me get you something for that cold, hm? Then we can just relax before we eat dinner. I’ll order from the deli you like. Soup’ll do wonders for you, I think.” 

Ed lets his head roll back against the couch cushions and nods. Stede really is the best when Ed’s sick, there’s never been any doubt about that, and this time is no different. Ed stays put in the living room, waiting while Stede putters around in their bedroom and bathroom, grabbing things. Knowing him, he’d come out with half the blankets in his collection, half the medicine cabinet, and insist on ordering almost the entire menu for dinner. 

And Ed… Ed wouldn’t have it any other way. All he could do was make it up to him when Stede inevitably came down with this in a week or so. 

“Here we are!” Stede says, announcing his return. Ed can’t help but laugh when he sees the armload of stuff he’s brought with him. 

“Are you kicking me out of our bedroom?” Ed teases. "Moving me out here permanently?"

“What! No,” Stede says, dumping the blankets onto Ed’s lap and arranging the array of medicines on the coffee table. “Never.”

“Oh, good, had me worried for a minute there, thought you’d packed up everything I own,” Ed laughs as Stede glares at him. 

“Y’know I love you, right?” 

“Yes, because I am an excellent husband with a wonderful bedside manner. Now, I’m going to make tea, you take two of these and one of these and I’ll be right back.” And with that, Stede's off again, Ed laughing quietly on the couch.

By the time the tea is cooled enough to drink, Ed is curled up around Stede on the couch in what can only be called a nest of blankets, doing more sniffling than anything else, but feeling better overall, thanks to the magical combination of medicine, tea, and Stede.

“This really hit you right out of nowhere, hm?” Stede murmurs, stroking a hand through Ed’s hair. It’s shorter and definitely grayer these days, but Ed’s pretty sure he’ll always react to Stede touching it the same way: melting into a pile of goo. God, he really is getting soft in his old age. 

“Yeah,” Ed sighs, leaning back into Stede’s touch. “Not so bad though, I guess…” Soon there would be way too much food arriving at their door, and cleaning up to do, and planning for the week ahead, but for now… 

Now, Ed would swear he can hear Stede’s gleeful little smile behind him. He decides to let him win this one, just before drifting off in a late-afternoon nap. 

*

“Stede, darling, I love you and your adorable, ridiculous, over the top nighttime routine but can you please just— Yes, good, that. Thank you very much,” Ed says, unable to stop the smile from taking over his face as Stede throws himself dramatically onto the bed and curls himself around Ed’s chest, face pressed right into the spot between his neck and shoulder, nose warm against his ear. 

Heaven. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Ed sighs. 

Stede laughs, giggles, really, and Ed can feel the sound warm right through him. “Y’laughing at me?” Ed asks through a yawn. 

“Never, my love,” Stede promises. “It’s just that we have been literally together all day now, and you were really quite demanding that I get in here right now,” he points out. “You slept on me for two hours just this afternoon!”

Ed pretends to consider this. “So? I wait all day for this, Stede,” he says, then pouts just a little. “Don’t you?” 

“Of course, yes,” Stede says, leaning over and brushing their noses together just gently before kissing him. Ed sniffles a little at the touch, his nose extra sensitive thanks to the monster cold he’s managed to pick up, but Stede doesn’t seem to mind that. 

“Good,” Ed says. “Feels good,” he repeats. 

Stede really can’t seem to stop himself from smiling now, as silly as it might seem. They really had spent the entire day together, and now here they are, giggling like children after lights out. “You feel good, too,” Stede tells him. “Though… Do you feel alright?” 

Ed twitches his nose like he’s testing something, sniffles a few times, then nods. “Think m’alright for now. Still doped up on everything you gave me earlier.” 

“Advil for your head and some cold medicine is hardly doped up,” Stede argues. He kisses Ed again, a distraction, but a welcome one. 

“You take good care of me,” Ed acquiesces, though it’s hard not to with Stede curled around him like this. 

Never one to turn down a compliment, Stede beams. 

“hh’itsSCH! hd’ISCHuh! Eh’sschIEW!”

The rush of sneezes manages to take Ed completely by surprise, and he knows he doesn’t completely manage to duck away from Stede in the process. 

“Fuck… sorry,” Ed mutters, fumbling for a tissue. 

“God bless you! Maybe not quite on the mend yet, then,” Stede says, smiling. 

Ed opens his mouth, ready to apologize again, or promise he’ll take extra good care of Stede in return for being patient zero in the span of a single day, but Stede stops him with another kiss. 

“There’s no way you’re escaping this, mate,” Ed tells him. “You’ve been all over me all day.”

“You’ve been all over me, too,” Stede points out. 

“Right, well, sorry in advance, is what I mean,” Ed says. "Never not going to be all over you, for what it's worth."

“Good. Me either. And it's bound to happen,” Stede shrugs. "If I get it, I get it."

And really, how did Ed get this lucky? Even if he had to wait years and years and make several wrong turns through relationshipland to get here, he knows he wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

“Now,” Stede says, “you rushed me over here so... come here, please.” He holds out an arm for Ed to curl back into him, and Ed wastes no more time arguing as he settles into place, the two of them slotting around each other like two perfectly shaped spoon.

Yeah, he waits all day for this, and it’s fucking perfect. 

[panelshowsource]

could you make a post about all the books from comedians you own/have ordered and which are your favorites I want to buy all of them but don't know where to start ++++++++ would love to know if you know of a way to order a signed copy of David's book if I don't live in the UK

you know, in a stroke of what may be relevant information, i'm actually an editorial director by day and even used to be a literary agent here in nyc — none of which is obvious on account of my billion rushed typos and...just...general existence :) (i promise i'm supremely carefully handed in my editing!!! and have a lot of resources, at my job hahahahaha oh god maybe i shouldn't have mentioned this!!!) — but i'm really no book critic and have no idea how my tastes stack up against what a lot of you are looking for. i'm happy to share some of my general, poorly articulated internet thoughts but it may be more worth checking out goodreads or talking with others who have more experience with autobiographies (which a majority of these types of books are)!

to begin with a disclaimer, one of my friends texted me recently, "why do you only watch sad movies?" i love sad films, sad music, i love to cry, catharsis, sentimentality which is always a little self-indulgent. it's a bit ironic, because this is a comedy blog and you guys know me as someone who loves to find things to laugh about and i fill my life with so much silliness through his huge, life-long hobby, but, all the same, that is only one side of me, i guess. i'm saying this now because you're about to hear me talk briefly about a few somewhat-to-incredibly sad books and be like "oh i didn't know this what i was getting into" 😅

books i do recommend:

just ignore him by alan davies — this isn't a book review but i am self-conscious about just how i describe this book, because it's so sensitive and i carry a lot of respect for alan. at the time of publication, alan actually didn't want any of the press to know and/or discuss the most tragic elements of the book, so readers wouldn't be influenced in any direction before confronting it themselves. (it's okay to talk about now of course, and anyone should know there are major trigger warnings for death, child abuse, sexual abuse, and pedophilia.) it is a sad book about his earliest years: the complexities and nuances of male power and manipulation, of unimaginable loneliness, of a lost child. alan said it wasn't cathartic to write—that is was indeed very painful—but the vulnerability, the commitment to shirking himself of the painful silence he endured for most of his life, is exceptionally moving. alan's writing can be quite thorough, even flowery, in creating vivid places and images, so so much of the heaviness feels piercing and even disturbing. if you read other comedians' books, a decent majority of them are written in the style of standup or, say, a ted talk — with performance in mind, specific structures and beats that mimic how they'd tell these stories on stage. i would argue this is quite different to that, that while the writing is in a style and structure that benefits being read aloud this is a very different alan to alan the performer. and, very honestly, i'm really not an audiobook person, not to mention listening is a wholly different experience to reading — but the audiobook for this is phenomenal: alan narrates and, while of course it's his story so he'll tell it best, he is a very gentle, thoughtful storyteller. this will be you by chapter 4:

moab is my washpot + fry chronicles by stephen fry — the first and second of his three autobiographies covering some of the most sensational times (stephen is willing to admit) of his childhood and teen years + his rise to fame through the cambridge footlights. these are good reads for 1) stephen fry fans duh and 2) people who can enjoy the inspiration of auden, waugh, wilde, wodehouse, quintessential english writers who inform the foundation of stephen's relationship with literature and appreciation. stephen is painfully honest — and often sorry for it, apologising for what he perceives to be his shortcomings — and you can't help but feel, even early on in the first book, that his view of his own world is somehow even more subjective than everyone else's views of their own worlds. maybe it's because he's so judgmental, maybe it's his oscillating mental health, maybe it's the shocking thrust with which he was confronted with the wideness of the world...i'm not sure, but stephen's life through stephen's eyes is so very stephen-y. i think that's why we love him‚ though i can see some people loathing the less admirable sides of him, which he does show, so don't read this if you want to maintain some image of him that helps you cope or keeps you perfectly entertained. if you're not british, the fry chronicles is an especially good read to scratch some of your anglophilic interests (lotsss of namedropping and backstage chat)!

delicacy: a memoir about cake and death by katy wix — one of my recent faves and another book that isn't thoroughly funny. told in 21 vignettes either centered around or vaguely related to cake, katy talks about her school life, grief and loss, self-esteem and body image, misogyny — in ways that are just...matter of fact...opposed to lessons learned or things she's working on through therapy. she's accepted a lot, but she's also afflicted by a lot to this day; she's capably honest about where her reality stands. for this reason, it can be a bleak and certainly very raw read. i listened to the audiobook for this one, which was nice, but i much recommend the actual written book as the vignettes are in different formats (short story prose, letters, email exchanges) that often anchor time and place, intention, even the little peeks of light of comedy. katy's writing is very lovely, both my heart and mind were touched.

back story by david mitchell — a mildly vulnerable, moderately insightful, and quite humorous exploration of david's up-and-coming years. i really appreciate the premise — due a bad back and sciatica, he begins taking very long walks every day, and these walks trigger memories and anecdotes as he passes certain places — that really doesn't come off as a gimmick. it's a very easy read (or listen) and what i'd consider an uncomplicated, unproblematic bio, but it would be difficult to enjoy if you're only a casual fan of david mitchell or only like him in his most recent dad years, as it was written in his peep show heyday and is so much about those years of his life, his relationship with robert webb, etc. a good intro-to-the-genre book and the very first britcom book i read way back in 2010!

i also really enjoy graham norton's books — especially for the goss, but he's a great writer and his debut fiction novel got quite good reviews! — and tim key's books of poetry, though you really need to be a fan of tim key to read tim key :')

books i do not recommend:

before & laughter by jimmy carr — this book is much less of an autobiography (details are scant and anecdotes are few; it's cute when he refers to karoline as "my girl") and much more a collection of 1) jimmy's interpretation of contemporary comedy and what it means to be a comedian, and 2) how that journey, and his evolving attitudes, shaped him + became advice he would offer to others. this is why he calls the book adjacent to self help & motivational speaking. i don't think it teaches you anything new about him — literally or as a writer — so i don't recommend reading it, though the audiobook (where he's truly performing the writing like a ted talk) is an easy listen. a lot of people will not understand that jimmy is overwhelmingly sincere in regards to all of the topics and personal philosophies the jimmy nearing 50 espouses. he's someone with very studied, thorough personal philosophies (if you've seen him on podcasts talking about his life and career then you'll know just what i mean) and he explains them deftly, but they can feel a bit...how should i say this...flat to people who have heard a lot of it before, in hollywood movies or from their own parents or wherever. he didn't write this just for another stream of income — he is passionate about these conversations and that counts for something. overall i already knew a bit about the guy and didn't need this.

my shit life so far by frankie boyle — i have never read one of frankie's fiction novels (crime is really not my thing, so someone needs to let me know if richard osman's book series is a smash because i'm only going to check them out if i'm convinced to), but as a long-time fan of his, knowing how much of a wordsmith he is, and how intentional he is in everything he says, i was surprised by how dull i found this. his shit life was just that — uninteresting, meandering. his anecdotes may have worked better aloud than on paper, but they didn't grab me. you learn a bit about his young adulthood, but like jimmy he's intensely private and i could feel that distance between us even while reading an autobiography. it didn't work for me, super sad about it :(

can everyone please calm down? by mae martin — instead of criticising this book, i'd rather just make a disclaimer or two. if you are already engaged in queer discourses and dialogues, you are not going to learn very much from this book. both the descriptive writing and presentation of research is "accessible" to the point i'd call it more adjacent to YA than adult literature; if you prefer more creative, complicated, and/or signature writing styles, this book is not for you. if you are a big fan of mae martin and would appreciate an overview of their journey on the identity spectrum (going so far as to even rejecting it, in some capacities) in one place, then this may be convenient — but even then, at this point, it's somewhat outdated. imo a well-intention skip.

phil wang and tom allen are two more i think don't convince me with their writing, but i'm still making my ways through a couple of books and could probably talk more about this later!

i have never made this kind of non-fiction bio a priority on my long reading list, so i still have a lot of exploring and catching up to do, but i'm finding that i do prefer the books that explore the events of comedian's past as well as those that walk the reader through experiences in the comedy & tv industries. there are a lot of books about mental health and identity, which may be more of what many of you are looking for (sara pascoe, fern brady, jon richardson, and more).

okaY PHEW SORRY i always type too much 😒

first, as for david mitchell's new book, you can order it signed from waterstones as they ship to the usa — and it's currently half off!!!!! if you want to buy it unsigned from a usa retailer amazon is cheapest and target & bookshop are the cheapest non-amazon options :) an audiobook is coming out as well, so i do believe i will be able to add that to googledrive before too long, but no guarantees on a good time frame!

you can go here to download any of the ebooks & audiobooks i have on my googledrive!

[nellasbookplanet]

Today I’m going absolutely bonkers thinking about stories where the medium itself becomes so interwoven with the narrative that the two are inseparable and the story borderline unadaptable into other formats.

Lately I’ve been playing a lot of Portal and listening to the Malevolent podcast for perhaps the third time, and as any slightly obsessive fan who desperately wishes for more when I run out of story I find myself thinking ‘man someone should adapt this into a movie/tv show/novel/etc’. And then I stop and think, ‘wait a minute, how?’

How could you possibly adapt the puzzle aspect of Portal into anything other than a game? Sure you could make some cool action sequences out of it, but that would get old quick, and you never get any chance to solve the puzzles yourself. And how could you adapt it without them, when the tests are a deeply intrinsic part of the narrative? You would end up with a vastly different story.

And Malevolent. Malevolent! Rarely have I experienced a story that so masterfully not only gets around the limitations of its medium, but uses them to their full advantage. How do you explain your lead constantly speaking out loud to themself (since the dialogue-only format doesn’t allow for internal monologue)? Why, put a possessing entity into their head, so that they’re literally never without a conversational partner! How do you fit visual descriptors into the story, since characters explaining their surroundings out loud would be weird? Make one of them blind and the one possessing him his seeing-eye entity, of course!

How could you possibly adapt any of that into, say, a movie? Having the entity describe visuals the viewer can already see would be distracting, but having him not do it would break suspension of disbelief because why is Arthur not constantly bumping into things? Of course, you could remove the blindness, but aside from being a shitty thing to do it would also remove the delicate balance of power between him and the entity that forces the two to co-operate.

I’m thinking about these two stories especially because it’s where my obsession lies right now, but there are lots of examples of similarly interwoven narratives and medium. Think of epistolary books, webcomics with animated images and music, webnovels so adapted for a digital format with links and gifs and layout that actually printing them would take away from the experience (everyone go read What Football Will Look Like in the Future and An Unauthorised Fan Treatise right now, you can thank me later), or other podcasts that give their narrator an intrinsic reason to speak and describe everything aloud, such as The Magnus Archives and The Mistholme Museum (which I need to catch up with, by the way). It drives me insane! The medium is the message!

[an-aura-about-you]

the work day is done which means it's time to procrastinate on more chores with Handbook for Mortals! I hope you brought your neckbraces because you are not prepared for the whiplash.

continuing with chapter 7 part 2:

when we last left our hero, Scheherazade was shopping at the mall and picked out a dress of questionable color. it wasn't bad looking, it's just the author changed her mind on whether it was blue or black within two sentences.

-Zade admits to the clerk checking her out that she's got two guys vying for her attention and that she honestly likes them both. she then gets worried that the clerk is going to judge her for this. projecting much?

-okay. okay. oh my god. it's time for this scene, holy fuck. I'm just. I'm just gonna put this here for you to read yourselves:

As I was made [sic] my way up through the main section of the mall, I saw two vaguely familiar-looking figures walking towards me. I squinted as they approached. When they were nearly in front of me, I laughed aloud; of course they were familiar. Carrot Top and Wayne Newton grinned when they saw me, and I couldn't help but let a smile spread across my own face as I stopped to greet them.

just. what do I do with that? I knew it was coming and I'm still laughing so much.

-they all know each other??? for some reason????? I get that Carrot Top and Wayne Newton are Las Vegas regulars, but they are aware of who Zade is outside of her being a potential fan of theirs?

-they are. planning on coming to some premiere. that Zade is connected to, presumably a premiere of a show for her. just. damn, the character shilling.

-okay so. it. it's time for another round of When Is This Story Set? it's a good thing I get to type this and not try to say it aloud. Zade congratulates Carrot Top on winning Comedian of the Decade. no shade to Carrot Top, but I doubt he would have won that even when he was relevant. but if Carrot Top IS a serious contender for it, well, then the story HAS to be set sometime in the 1990s.

-hoooo boy and RIGHT on the heels of that we get a strange girl approaching Zade in the parking garage saying she knows what Zade is. this. this is a lot in one go.

-the narration says the girl tells Zade, "Not what you do, I know what you are," sarcastically, but how? does she mean condescendingly?

-the girl tells Zade that her magic is making it so guys fawn over her and girls can't stand her. so this is it, everybody: this story is running on magic omegaverse juice.

-and then the girl says she wants to test Zade's power, gives herself some space, and casts fuckin Magic Missile. Zade is pushed into the wall but manages to fire back. this satisfies the girl who just up and leaves in an orange Lambo.

-we're not gonna see her again btw. like we will kinda see her again once later, but she's not gonna do anything. no I don't know why the author is sequel baiting in chapter 7.

-"A familiar person was walking up to me, smiling widely." oh christ idk if I can handle another familiar person after the last time you used that phrase.

-turns out it was Lil from chapter 3 who gives Zade a hug, asks if she's okay, and then is never seen again for the rest of the book. I'm not kidding.

and that's the chapter. just. holy shit.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🦇 One Last Stop Book Review 🦇

Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

❓ #QOTD If you could live in a different time and place, when and where would you choose? ❓ 🦇 August expects moving to New York will only prove her cynicism right. The only way to live is to do it alone. That is, until a mysterious girl on the train hands her a scarf, sparking not only a major subway crush on the Q, but an adventure that will alter August's perspective of the world forever.

💜 Oh. My. Goddess. This book. THIS BOOK. This book hit me like a freight train (yes, yes, I see the pun). It's been a month since I read it because I couldn't find the words...I still can't. But I'll try. 💜 This. Book. Why did NO ONE tell me about this book?! 💜 From page one, this book is a childhood friend reaching out and tugging you into a warm, solid embrace before lifting you off your feet, spinning you around, and causing the word to blur. Casey McQuiston's narration is familiar, inviting, intimate. I couldn't stop annotating. August is raw and vulnerable and real, but still figuring out who she is away from her mother and messy childhood. We're only lucky enough to discover the woman she is alongside her. 💜 I don't want to spoil this story for anyone who hasn't read it yet, because there's a moment that changes EVERYTHING -- the genre, the plot, August, EVERYTHING. It's executed so well that I still feel the impact. WHY am I tearing up writing a review for this a MONTH later?! 💜 The underlying messages in this story are so heavy and impactful, yet written with such ease and grace and respect. There's: 🚇 Beautiful representation and discussion about virginity 🚇 Kisses for evidence-gathering 🚇 Exploration into New York's queer history 🚇 A Chinese lesbian displaced during the 70s 🚇 Lost memory 🚇 HIV/AIDs activists 💜 Beyond that, there's a beautiful sapphic ship, quirky cast of queer side characters, and sense of found family that's beyond heart-warming. I'm completely onboard for whatever Casey McQuiston has planned next.

💜 Literary Awards: 🚇 ALA Alex Award Nominee (2022) 🚇 Goodreads Choice Award Nominee for Romance (2021) 🚇 RUSA CODES Reading List for Romance (2022) 🚇She Reads Best of Award Nominee for Romance (2021)

🦇 Recommended for all readers; namely fans of Delilah Green Doesn't Care, She Gets the Girl, and Imogen, Obviously. This book is absolute magic. I read this in February but I can already say it's one of my top reads for the year. Yes, I'm still tearing up. What is wrong with me?

✨ The Vibes ✨ 🩷 Queer Found Family 🚇 Bisexual FMC 🩷 Diverse Cast 🏙️ Coming-of-Age 🩷 Sapphic Ship 🚝 Smut 🩷 Sci-Fi Twist

💬 Quotes ❝ Truth is, when you spend your whole life alone, it’s incredibly appealing to move somewhere big enough to get lost in, where being alone looks like a choice. ❞ ❝ August looks at her as the train reverses past Gravesend rooftops, this girl out of time, the same face and body and hair and smile that took August’s life by the shoulders in January and shook. And she can’t believe Jane had the nerve, the audacity, to become the one thing August can’t resist: a mystery. ❞ ❝ "Your friendly smile of acceptance—from the safe position of heterosexuality,’” Jane reads aloud, “‘isn’t enough. As long as you cherish that secret belief that you are a little bit better because you sleep with the opposite sex, you are still asleep in your cradle … and we will be the nightmare that awakens you.’” ❞ ❝ August laughs and wants so badly to know what it feels like to show off the person who’s yours from across the crowd...Maybe what she really wants is to be the person across the crowd who belongs to someone. ❞ ❝ “The attraction between you two is literally a spark, and it’s the same spark that’s bringing her back into reality." ❞ ❝ “I fell in love with you the day I met you, and then I fell in love with the person you remembered you are. I got to fall in love with you twice. That’s—that’s magic. You’re the first thing I’ve believed in since—since I don’t even remember, okay, you’re—you’re movies and destiny and every stupid, impossible thing, and it’s not because of the fucking train, it’s because of you. It’s because you fight and you care and you’re always kind but never easy, and you won’t let anything take that away from you. You’re my fucking hero, Jane. I don’t care if you think you’re not one. You are.” ❞