#journalistic writing style

[rozmorris]

Can SEO writing ruin your prose style? And why Bill Bryson can call a book Wubberhumptimuph and you can’t

I’ve had this question from Mark…. This question has been bouncing in my brain ever since the digital revolution began and especially after working for various publishers that asked me to help them with social media and website text.  Do you think that being forced to focus on SEO when writing articles, promos, headlines etc can negatively impact your non-journalism writing? My sense is that…

[cowboylikelyric]

crystal (journalist!harry x gogo dancer)

Summary: Harry, a serious journalist, is taken to Club Chrome and becomes captivated by a dancer named Clara, known on stage as Crystal. Despite feeling out of place, Harry's flirtation leads to a deep connection and an invitation to walk her home. Their chemistry intensifies, revealing a side of Harry that contrasts with his usual nature.

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving)

A/N: i know this isn't harry x reader but it was something that i really loved writing and i hope that you guys enjoy reading it. it isn't something that i've ever read before so i hope that you love it. let me know if you enjoy this because i'm thinking about making it a series.

---

April 10, 1962

I step into Club Chrome and immediately I feel a heat rush over me. People crowd everywhere around and Will nudges at my back to push me further in. 

“C’mon, man,” He takes a grab at my shoulder and directs me toward the bar, “I needed a drink yesterday.” Will wears his shirt barely buttoned and his corduroy flares tight to his thighs. His hair looks like he hasn’t styled it in a week. I look down at my brown suit and tie with my quaffed hair. I’m completely in the wrong environment. I follow William to the bar, not aching for a drink in the slightest. 

“Let me get two Old Fashioneds.” He slaps his money on the bar top and turns to watch the stage, or hanging platform rather.

The lights blare on the high stage, twinkling against the dancers. Do You Love Me by The Contours is the soundtrack to the three dancers' moves. Two of the girls stay in cages as they dance to the beat, while one of the girls remains free swaying her hips devilishly. She wears a silver bodysuit with glittery fringe dangling against the very tops of her thighs. She’s electric as she grabs one of the bars of the other girl's cages, slowly dropping her body down it.

William slaps my side. “What a fox, am I right?” He points to where she shimmies in her knee high gogo boots. Will hands me a drink, “You’re welcome, stud.”

My brows pull together in confusion. “And what exactly would I be thanking you for?”

“Getting your ass out here tonight.”

5 HOURS AGO

Sighing, I stretch against the office chair and drop my pen on my desk. I grab my mug and take a sip of my coffee, trying to find any motivation in the world. 

At 7:30, I hear my apartment door slam shut, shortly followed by the yell of my best friend.

“Har?!” 

“In the office, like every other time, Will!” His footsteps track toward the room until he’s standing at my doorway. He sees my notebook on my desk and that I’m still in my work clothes, his expression automatically dropping.

“Does work turn you on or something?” He shakes his head. “‘Cause I just don’t get your constant need to fuck your social life over.”

I turn my back to him, “Some people like to pay their rent, unlike you William.” 

“Oh, my rent’s paid, Harold,” Not my name, “The ladies pay real nice.” He winks at me.

“Even better, “ I smile with sarcasm, “You’re a whore and a jobless loser.” Sadly, this doesn’t even discourage him, instead he just smirks.

“Being a man of the night, while uncommon, is still a job, Harry.” Yeah, my best friend’s a prostitute. Where have I gone wrong? “Besides the point, you need to get out of that chair and go somewhere that exercises your sex life.”

“I’m not practicing your lewd ways, Will.” I drink the rest of my coffee. “And even if I did want to leave the house, I’m not going because I need sex.” Sex wouldn’t hurt.

Will scoffs, “Well, then get your ass up for a drink, you look tense.” I grind my teeth. It’s not respectable to punch your best friend, it’s not respectable to punch your best friend. 

“If I go, will you shut up?” A smirk paints his face again. Impossible. He nods quickly. I point past the doorway. “Fine, but get out.”

“Perfect, I’ll be here at midnight.” He slaps his own ass before leaving.

“Jesus Christ.”

NOW

“Whatever,” I scoff. I take a sip of the drink and feel the burn down my throat. I don’t fancy drinking, but I suppose some whiskey won’t hurt. Drifting closer to the stage, I leave Will behind. If I’m here against my will, I’m at least gonna try and enjoy it.

The lady on the stage’s eyes scan the crowd while everyone continues to dance and pay no mind to the beauty of the women on the platform. But when she finally meets my eyes, there’s a spark and my stomach drops. A wicked smile graces her face and she tiptoes herself to the edge of the platform.

She shouts down from her spot, “And who might you be?!” The corner of my mouth ticks up.

“Harry!” I yell up to her. She stops her dancing, which saddens me a bit, but she begins talking to me instead.

“You new around these parts, Harry?! Don’t think I’ve seen ya before!” I can’t stop focusing on the way the light bounces off her incredible body suit. She sits herself on the edge of the platform, coming closer so that we don’t have to shout.

“No,” I admit, “This just isn’t my scene.” 

She laughs. “Baby, this is anyone’s scene once you’ve had a few drinks.” She extends her hand out to me. “Clara, but everyone here knows me as Crystal.”

I take her hand in mine and shake it. “Like Clara Bow.” Her smile twinkles.

“Exactly.” 

I point to her fellow dancers beside her. “How come they don’t put you in a cage?” This sinister smirk spreads across her face at my question.

“Nobody puts Crystal in a cage.” Just the way she says it sparks something within me, making me want to reach forward and pull her off that stage and take her home. Clara runs her hands across the bedazzled fringe that covers her thighs. “How could I shimmer behind bars?”

“That’s a good question.” I reach and grab the heel of her white boot. “I guess we’ll never know.”

She smiles. “I like you, Harry.” Clara pokes my dimple that makes a rare appearance. “You’re different from these other fellas.”

“Oh yeah?” I hand my drink to her and let her take a sip of it. She hums and nods. “And how’s that?”

“Well, for starters, most of them are the fuzz and they’re all trying to cheat on their wives.” Then her eyebrows raise. “Please say you aren’t married,” Clara grabs my hand, “don’t be all show and no go, Harry.” 

I raise my left hand and wiggle my bare ring finger. “Nothing to worry about.” She lets out a sigh of relief.

“Phew,” Clara pretends to wipe sweat from her brow, “I didn’t want to have to shoot you down.” I chuckle and she sets my drink down beside her on the stage. “What do ya say we cut outta here?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be dancing?” She places her hands on my shoulders, beginning to slide off of the high stage. I grab her waist and bring her safely to the ground. 

“They won’t mind.” She grabs my hand and starts pulling me further into the club. At some point, I lock eyes with Will and he sees Clara, offering me a wink. When I look back at her, Clara’s blinding me with a smile as she pulls me. “Hurry! Hurry!”

“Why in such a hurry?!” My shoulders keep knocking against others as we finally approach this door in the back of the club. 

“Time is of the essence, Harry!” She pushes the door open and the cold air outside slaps us. Clara finally quits her pulling and lets the door shut behind us, leaving us outside. She reaches her hands up to grab my face, pointing it down toward her. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet, Harry?”

My breath catches in my throat. I rest my hands on her hips and press my forehead to hers. “Wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

“Of course I want you to.” She presses her lips to mine and my tense body automatically relaxes. I pull her in closer by her waist and she wraps her arms around my neck. Her lips taste like cherries, making me groan.

“Taste so good.” I growl as her tongue skates across my lips, getting access to my mouth. She moans against my lips and I feel the sound in my cock. I try to gently back her up against the brick wall of the building, lifting her leg to wrap around my waist as I grind my hips forward. Clara gasps at the feeling, pulling away from the kiss. She has that sweet as sin smile on her face again.

“We shouldn’t do this out here.” She pushes at my chest before sneaking around me and walking forward along the sidewalk. “Now be a gentleman and walk me home, Harry.” Clara looks back over her shoulder. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

I jog up to her and wrap my arm around her shoulder as we continue to walk in the cold night. In return, she wraps her arm around my waist. 

“So what does a man like you do for work, Harry?” I notice how she likes to say my name at the end of every sentence. It makes me smile. 

“I’m a journalist.” When she looks up at me, Clara gives me an amused look. “I know, go ahead. Call me a square. Will does all the time.”

She shakes her head. “No, you aren’t a square. It just makes perfect sense.” She leans to press a quick kiss on my shoulder. “Who’s Will?” 

“The bane of my existence.” Her brows scrunch in confusion. I offer her a smirk. “Kidding. Unfortunately, William’s my best friend.” 

Clara giggles beside me. “And what does Will do that’s so much more exciting than journalism?” 

I clear my throat, not expecting her to ask that question. “He’s, um, a… man of the night per say.” My cheeks burn as if I’m talking of myself. Her brows rise a touch before she bursts out in laughter at the color of my cheeks I assume. 

“Why so flustered, Harry?” I watch as she shivers just a touch. I peel my suit jacket off of my shoulders and drape it over hers before holding her again as we walk.

“Not sure.” I look down and her beauty strikes me in the gut. “You just make me so nervous.”

When she tips her head up to catch my eyes again, something in her gaze digs so deep into my soul. “Well, you make me feel brand new.”

“Brand new?” Clara nods. “In what way?” She stops walking and turns to face me.

“No part of you seems to be bothered by my work.” Her dancing. 

“That’s because I’m not.” I grab her cheek and bring my nose to hers. “Your dancing amazes me.” Her eyes sparkle.

“That.” She emphasizes. “You’ve just made me brand new.” Clara pecks me quickly before looking past my shoulder. “This is mine.” 

I turn around and try my hardest to not let my jaw drop at the house before me. No, the mansion in front of me. 

“Yeah, trust me, I get it.” I look back at her and she nods at my expression. 

“This place is…” 

“I know.” She looks down at her feet. “I live alone.” She pulls my arm to follow her up her driveway. Clara sighs. “Daddy doesn’t really approve of my work, so he pays for me to live somewhere separate.”

“You live alone?” I could never live in a place like this all on my own. Too much of everything and not enough people. She nods softly. 

“Yeah, it has its ups and downs.” When we reach the front door she turns back to me and presses her lips to mine quickly in a soft manner before turning back to lead me inside. I feel a flush on my face at her gesture. 

“What are the ups?” I ask, not seeing how it could possibly be enjoyable to live in a house this big all on my own.

A wicked smirk spread on her face. “I get to be as loud as I like and no one can hear.” She wiggles her brows in a suggestive gesture. 

My cheeks heat as we enter the house and I have to stop myself from gasping. Above us is a large, glittering chandelier and around us is a space larger than my entire apartment. 

But when I look back down to Clara, she’s looking up at me with the same expression. 

“What?” I ask. She shakes her head with a smirk.

Taking a firm grip of my shirt, she pulls me into her. “Nothing. Now kiss me you hunk.”

And of course I can’t say no. I grab her chin harshly and pull her lips to smash into mine. Clara moans against my lips as I migrate my hands to her hips and then her ass, squeezing.

She sheds my suit jacket from her shoulders before running her hands all over my body, all while kissing me. Clara began pulling me toward the couch, pushing me onto it. Before I know it, she's climbing onto my lap and connecting our lips again.

Clara takes complete control over me, and I can’t say that I hate any of it. In fact, I think that it’s making my cock throb even more. 

Her fingers work at the buttons of my shirt as she presses continuous searing kisses on my lips. As soon as she’s got it unbuttoned, she’s throwing it behind her. However, she pulls from the kiss, groaning, when she realizes I’ve got on an undershirt.

“Are you trying to kill me, Harry?” She giggles into my shoulder. 

“Never,” I say, sitting back a bit to peel the tank top over my head, tossing it beside me. “Better?” 

Clara bites her lip with a smile, nodding, “Much.” She runs her fingers over my abdomen, a darkness tinting her eyes. They run all the way up my chest until her fingers grab at my chin, tilting my head to look at her. 

Her eyes are this intense shade of blue that I’m sure only exists in the deep depths of the ocean. They punch me in the gut, rendering me speechless. 

Clara smirks at the look on my face, I’m sure. She then takes my hands and leads them to her back where there’s a zipper waiting for me.

“Be a doll and unzip me, would you?” I nod like a helpless puppy, running my fingers over her skin before reaching for the zipper and slowly trailing it down her spine.Once it’s down far enough, I slide my fingers to the straps, slipping them down her shoulders. Clara helps me out, tugging down the front of the bodysuit, rendering me speechless as her breasts come into view. 

Her tits sit up nice in front of me, her nipples flushed and hard as I reach for them. “So pretty, baby,” I whisper as I pinch her nipple between my calloused thumb and pointer finger.

A sweet moan leaves her lips, making me yearn for more noises. I lean forward and bring my tongue to her chest, licking my way all around her one tit, still using my fingers to stimulate the other. My lips wrap around her nipple, sucking in hopes of hearing more of her pretty noises.

“Harry,” A gasp leaves her throat as she tangles her fingers in my hair. 

“What is it, baby?” I tease before switching my mouth to her other nipple. Her hips have a mind of their own as they begin grinding against mine, causing me to groan against her. Clara uses her hands that are in my hair to pull me from her chest. 

Taking them out of my curls, she uses her hands to push herself off of the couch, before pulling her bodysuit the rest of the way down her body and stepping out of it. My cock twitches as I get sight of her fully naked body, the only thing left on her body is her gogo boots.

I reach forward and grasp the back of her upper thigh, pulling her directly in front of the couch. She looks down with a genuine smile, her hands resting on the sides of my face. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper. 

She snickers, “Quite the language you’ve got there.”

I shrug, “Can’t contain myself around someone as stunning as yourself.”

It was sweet, if you wanted to know the truth. The way we sat here in this comfortable silence after meeting only an hour prior. Sweet and sultry. 

Clara takes my hand and pulls me from the couch, before turning her back to me and leading me through her house. It gives me the perfect opportunity to lower my eyes to her perfectly rounded ass. The way she sways her hips as she walks leads me to believe she knows exactly what she’s doing. I can barely pay attention to where I’m going with that thing in my face.

“Right here,” Clara drags me out of my daze as we enter what I assume is her bedroom. It’s a spacious room with not much in it beside a large bed pressed against the wall, an armoire, and a side table. “It’s not much I know, but I don’t need much.” 

I look at her with a smile, placing my hands on her hips, and pressing my forehead to hers. “You know, it’s funny that you say that, because neither do I. Just need you in this moment.” And because I’m too impatient, I lock my lips with hers and begin pushing us in the general vicinity of the bed. Eventually we make it there and Clara tips back as her calves hit the edge. She laughs and pulls from the kiss, pushing herself up the bed. I kick off my shoes and shed my trousers before following after her.

She rests back on her shoulders, her chest rising as she breathes deeply. I unzip her boots and throw them beside the bed. I sit on my knees and rest on my calves as I let my eyes run up and down her dancer body. 

“Hey, baby?” The word makes my heart jump.

“Yeah?”

She drags her foot down my chest to my boxers that hold back my very evident erection. “M’feelin needy.”

I grab her ankle and crawl closer to her, wrapping her leg around my hip. I offer her a faux pout, “Need me do somethin’ about it, baby?” 

Clara nods. I smirk and take her hips, lifting them up abruptly. She squeaks at the movement, soon moaning out as I plant my mouth directly on her sopping pussy. I drag my tongue up her folds, huffing out a laugh. 

“Shoulda told me you were this wet, honey,” I mumble against her cunt. Her chin is dropped to her chest as she watches me lap at her arousal. Bringing my lips around her clit, I suck on it making her groan. 

“Oh my g- goodness,” Her teeth chatter as she speaks out. The desperate tone in her voice makes me thrust my hips against the mattress, looking for friction of any kind. I notice her hips start to grind against my face, moving them to her liking. 

Bringing my fingers to her center, I run them up and down her folds, hearing her gasp. “Want my fingers?” 

She nods, insistently, “Mhm!” I press one into her slowly and her back lifts off the bed, arching. 

“Yeah?” I give her a second one and she’s squealing into a moan. I allow my tongue to continue working on her nerves as I fuck my fingers into her. Her cheeks are flushing as her eyes begin to shut and god, is it a sight to see. 

I curl my fingers inside of her and feel around for the spot within her that will drive her crazy. When Clara gasps out suddenly, I know I’ve found it.

Her legs begin to shake and her cunt squeezes my fingers like a vice. “Gonna cum, Clara?”

“Yes, Harry,” Her eyes wired shut, “Yes!” 

“C’mon, baby,” I keep my fingers at their pace, my tongue flat over her clit so she can ride it herself.

She lets out a stretched out moan, her back arched beyond belief as her hips continue to grind against my face through her orgasm. It has got to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Her cries only get louder as my fingers continue to fuck her through that high. When it becomes too much, she grabs my wrist, pushing my hand away. 

I crawl up over her, softly kissing her cheek then down to her lips. “Feel good, baby?” 

She nods and lifts her arms to pull my hips closer to her. “Very good.” Her sneaky fingers tug at the waistband of my briefs.

I pull my face back a touch. “What’re you up to, crazy?” 

Clara bites her lip, trying to hide her suspicious smile. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

I grab her wrists and pin them above her hand, placing my lips beside her ear before whispering, “Oh, trust me, I’m gonna feel real good when my cock is drowning in your pussy.” 

She gasps into my ear, but when I pull back to watch her face, she’s got a wicked smirk on. “Such naughty things you say.” 

“I’m a journalist, baby.” I smile. “Wide vocabulary.” 

I peel my briefs down my legs, kicking them from my feet. I sigh at the relieved feeling my cock experiences as it’s freed. When I look back up to Clara, she’s got wide eyes and blushed cheeks.

“I- I, uh,” She shakes her head, “I don’t know if that’s going to fit in, um, me.” 

“It’s okay,” I bring my hand to my cock, giving it a few strokes with my that’s soaked in Clara’s arousal, “We’ll make it fit.” 

She gulps in the way a cartoon character would, where you can watch the bump travel down her throat. I run my opposite hand up and down her hip. 

“Relax, baby,” I kiss her cheek again.

Clara nods and brings her hand in front of her face, spitting on it, before wrapping it around my cock to join my own. A deep groan travels up my throat as she squeezes it slightly. 

“Perfect,” I growl, “You’re perfect.” 

She shakes her head, “Not a singular person is perfect,” Clara brings my tip to the mess of her wet cunt, dragging it through it, “But together, we could be perfect.” 

She lines me up before I nudge my hips forward, slowly feeding my cock into the tightness of her pussy. Her jaw drops as she lets out a sound I haven’t heard from her yet. 

“Fuck,” I whine out as I continue to slip into the wetness of her. Her arms reach up to rest on my abs while her legs wrap around my waist. 

When I give her the last bit of my cock, submerging myself fully, her nails dig into my abdomen and her voice turns shaky, “Oh my- you’re so deep.”

I took a firm grasp of her hips and started to give her gentle thrust, not trying to overwhelm her too quickly. But, god, was it hard to hold back.

“You feel so good, baby,” I whisper beside her ear, “Nice and wet for me, squeezing me just right.” 

Her face screws up in pleasure as she whines, “More, please.” And of course I can’t say no to her.

I pull my hips back until all that’s left inside her is the tip before thrusting back into her. She cries out, her hips grinding up to meet my thrusts. I move one of my hands to her ass cheek, giving it a tight squeeze as I give her harder thrusts. 

Clara starts laying kisses on my neck, her tongue dragging against the spot beneath my ear, making me growl, “Driving me fuckin’ crazy.” 

She giggles, quickly cut off by a moan, “Good, I like my men wild.” 

“Yeah?” I tease, taking the back of her thigh to push her knee to her chest, putting us in a position that allows me to slide deeper. “Well, I like my women tight and dripping so I guess we’re both in luck.” 

Her brows furrow as uses her fingers to tweak her nipples, moaning softly. 

“Be loud, baby, wanna hear you.” I pick up the pace of my hips and she sure does let go. Her cries grow louder and longer, especially when I reach my thumb down to rub over her clit. 

“Oh sh- shoot!” She shouts, squeezing her tits. I laugh at her choice of words. 

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” She nods desperately. “Won’t even swear while I’m inches deep in your pussy.” 

She whimpers as I press my thumb firmer to her clit. She also clenches around me and I nearly cum right there. It’s then that I think about the fact that I’m fucking her bare. Fuck. 

Clara’s walls continue to flutter around me, signaling to me that she’s going to cum again. So I keep my pace steady and keep pinching at her clit. 

“I’m gonna-“ Her eyes squeeze shut and her fists clench beside her. 

“Give it to me. And I want you screaming my name when you do.” And scream she does. We may be alone in this huge mansion but I’m sure someone miles away could hear how loud she’s being.

“Harry-“ Her thighs start to shake and I feel a certain feeling climb up my spine as my thrusts begin to lose rhythm. Her back arches as high as it can with her knee still to her chest as I continue to pound her through her high. 

“That’s it, baby,” I talk her through, feeling as my high starts to make its way to the surface soon after hers. My chest rises and falls as I try to control how fast it comes on to me. But it has been months since the last time I had sex, and my hand can only get me so far. 

When her orgasm recedes, I pull out of her, giving my cock the proper strokes as she lays there is a post-orgasmic bliss. “Where do you want my cum at, darling?” She’s a bit slow to answer, saying nothing, just opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. My cock twitches in my hand at the sight in front of me. “In your mouth?” 

She nods with a smile on her face, tongue still out. I grab the back of her head and lean her face closer to my cock. She touches her tongue to my tip as I stroke it and something about the way she looks up at me with a sweet look in her eyes has me done for.

“Shit, Clara,” I groan as I shoot ropes of cum onto her tongue. She snickers as I do and it drives me insane. I milk out every last drop into her mouth and watch as she enjoys every bit of it. I tap off any last drops then pull away as I start to slowly soften. Clara closes her mouth and swallows my cum before smiling. I lazily lay my body on top of hers, burying my face in her neck. 

She rubs her hands up and down my back, speaking up, “Harry?”

“Mhm?” I barely hum out.

“My leg’s starting to cramp. Could you move it please?” Oh, yeah. I still had her leg folded like a pretzel against her chest. 

“Shit, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t even think-” I pull away from her, an embarrassing flush coating my face as I let her leg down to hit the mattress. She gets a smitten smile on her face.

“It’s okay,” Clara reassures, “Don’t get all shy on me now, you’ve already done me in.” That is what I’m going to guess is her clean version of saying I’ve already fucked her.

“I know,” I put my face back in the crease of her neck and shoulder, “Just feel like such a square around you.”

She laughs, “Nothing about what you just did to me was square, Harry. And maybe I like squares. Did you ever think of that?” I shrug, wrapping my arms around her waist to pull myself closer to her.

“Explains why you brought me home.” She scoffs, but doesn’t continue the conversation any further. We bask in this comfortable silence for a good while. A romantic silence even. Clara has her hands in my hair, massaging my scalp, and I have my hands rubbing her hips. How come I’d never experienced this before? Every other time I’d been sexy with a lady, she’d kick me out immediately, embarrassed, I assumed. But Clara was in no rush for me to leave.

“I’d like to see you again, Harry.” She breaks the silence. “I’d like to see you a lot.”

I huff out a chuckle, assuming she’s joking until I hear no laugh from her end. I pull my face from her neck to look at her. “You serious?”

She bristles at my question. “Of course, I’m serious. I’m no jokester.” 

My brows furrow, “Well, why’d you wanna see me again?”

She rolls her eyes as if it’s obvious, “Because I told you, you make me feel brand new. Like I-” She takes a deep breath, “Like I can be who I wanna be.” She bites her lip, getting visibly nervous. 

“Shouldn’t everyone make you feel like that?” I ask.

“They should, but they don’t.” She frowns.

I close my mouth and stare into her eyes. I run my hand up to her cheek, brushing hair from her face. “Then, yes, I’ll see you again. I’ll see you a lot.”

A bright smile takes over her entire face as she plants a peck on my lips, “Cool.”

I nod, “Cool.” 

[inflammatory]

[devotioncrater]

honestly the way i see it is this: trent crimm's ex-wife is either a 10x more impassioned/poetic author than he is OR she does not give two shits about writing. no in between

[kingdom-dance]

An excerpt if an article in a March issue of IndieNow magazine

I’m sO excited for the @infamous-if demo I made up a magazine, journalist, and half an article about it 🫣

[agentmarcuspike]

pinterest tag game

rules: go into pinterest and put the first nine photos it shows you into a moodboard. thank u for tags @joelsversion @joelscruff @swiftispunk <3

(a/n: i must admit i refreshed the page because the first three times were just the same pedro look fifteen times, and also ugly fucking nails i had no interest in seeing, which wasn’t really representative, so this is round four instead)

[sassypotatoe1]

LMAO my editor just got permission from head office to completely ban the sub-editors (proofreaders) from proofing or editing our English copy because they keep fucking up our copy. Like if you don't have an acute and strong understanding of the language you're editing for don't become a sub?? (hehe sub) Like the last straw was them changing "Amid the dissolution of the board of directors, appointment of an interim manager, and alleged wild parties leading to property damage, the Insert Name Here service center has closed indefinitely" to "with the dissolution of the board of directors, an interim manager alleged that wild parties led to property damage" and then the next paragraph, which they just fucking wrote in, which is not the job of a sub-editor, was "there were allegations of wild parties that were dangerous and disruptive" like babes, not only did you completely change the meaning of the intro, like, completely, like from "there was a new manager because the board was dissolved and there are allegations of parties" to "the new manager said so" which is completely different, the new manager said fuck-all, you also fucking added a completely redundant repetition in the nut graf like??? (hehe nut) And it's not like I didn't explain in the nut graf what these disruptions and dangers were, I laid them out in detail, the subs just felt the need to reiterate for a second time that there were wild parties.

It's also far from the first time there is A List of times they changed the meaning of our English copy completely and didn't even fix the grammar, or even made it worse. How they're still employed as subs is beyond me completely because they are decidedly horrible at it.

[metaphysicae]

jealousy and envy are such strange emotions. anyways, i NEED to start writing again but i want to try something new/different? not necessarily new.

[howmanyheartaches]

I interviewed the inspiring Moca Dayoo for all new Koneko! If you're into coquette and soft girl, go follow her!

shop!

[vivanightcity]

busy thinking bout ~boys~

Didier - A media. Mid 30s. Been in NC for about seven years, since the end of the metal war, when NC became what it is in terms of corporate foothold and free international city. Makes it unique, and full of good stories.

Adiel - A doll. 27. Just got fired after a single day as a corporate proxy for Tragic Backstory reasons. Also not from NC originally. East coast lad. NYC specifically. Moved to NC to try and get an in with Arasaka, also for Tragic Backstory reasons.

[captainfantasticalright]

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

From the introduction to William the Antichrist: “In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.”

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

[cryptotheism]

i know you arent this type of person but your humor has about the same rhythm and style as those people who insist dantes inferno and paradise lost are fanfiction

Youre right and I have a whole rant about this exact thing.

I saw down and re-watched Metalocalypse recently. I had this realization of "Oh my god, this is what every Adult Swim/newgrounds/YouTube flash cartoon has been trying to emulate for the past 15 years." It SOUNDS like it's just four bros fucking around in a recording booth, but Brendon Small clearly put a massive amount of time, energy, expertise, and practice, into the writing and performances of that show.

I think a similar thing happened with "English major internet humor" and the prose of Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett.

Comedy prose is all rhythm and voice. I think folks pick up on how Pratchett structures a joke --what with the asides and em-dashes to control the pacing-- but they lack the self-importance and show-offishness to actually pull off what is, at its core, scathing and spiteful metacommentary, often at his own expense.

There is a journalistic rage at the core of Pratchett's comedy. I think it deserves innovation rather than compounded imitation.

[yesimwriting]

you write art and patrick so well im literally foaming at the mouth for more

yes yes everyone pls ask me about my boyfriends that are also boyfriends to each other 🩷 (i have two extra drafts for them already)

----

breath in. the pad of your thumb presses into the side of the ball. you give yourself a beat to feel the weight of it, to embrace the familiar feeling of felt against your palm. breath out.

you bounce the ball once. breath in. you squeeze the ball, knuckles briefly straining beneath your skin before letting it hit the concrete again. breath out.

finally, you raise the arm holding your racket. every joint in your body is locked into place. there's a science to a sharp serve. the ball will land where you will it to.

you release the ball, arm stretching forward. a total follow through. the ball hits the center of your racket. the force of your hit propels the ball through the air until it hits the center of the other side of the court.

ugh. the night before your qualifying match and suddenly the precise serve you spent years perfecting loses its edge. what happened to the serve that media outlets have been calling 'the ultimate point guaranteer'? why is today the day that you can only manage a perfectly average serve?

you groan, letting the disappointment's weight settle against your chest. you suck. with a sigh, you start walking towards the extra tennis balls you left near the net. your dad is so never going to get over you not qualifying for the us open.

"there she is." the voice surprises you enough to force you to still. patrick...and a few steps behind him, his doubles partner, art. "the princess of modern tennis."

you turn your head enough to glare in patrick's direction. he's referencing a title some journalist used in one article that your dad decided would be perfect for marketing materials. "don't."

normally, you like seeing patrick and art more than you can justify. you don't know if you can consider yourself their friend, it's not like you guys see each other outside of coincidental run ins at tennis events. the three of you have been to more and more of the same tournaments these days. they're familiar in a way that settles you, like the feel of tennis ball in your hand.

you try to tap into that usual warmth, but you can't quite get there. it's not their fault you're frustrated.

art gives you a look that feels like an apology. he walks forward, opening the gate to the fence and stepping onto the court. "i told him not to."

you bend down to pick up a spare ball. "i appreciate the effort."

"what?" patrick follows art onto the court. "it's on billboards."

he's seen your billboard? you don't know why you feel the need to dwell on that. you weren't the biggest fan of having a picture of yourself blown up and pasted everywhere, especially with a caption that makes potential losses extra embarrassing, but you've never been truly self conscious about it. now, you're trying to picture it in your mind, trying to remember the details of your expression, the way your hair was styled, what you were wearing.

you let go of the ball in your hand, bouncing it against the ground so that you have something to look at. "it was a charity thing."

"i know." you let yourself glance up at patrick. he's closer than you thought he'd be. you catch the ball before releasing it again. "for the youth outreach program thing, right?" before you can answer, he extends an arm, catching the ball before you can reach it. "you looked cute in it."

art looks at you again, something a little more distinct than apology behind his eyes. he reaches for the tennis ball still in patrick's hand. "patrick."

he twists his arm away before his friend can steal the ball from him. art follows him, leaning forward and grabbing his arm. "what?" their play fight grows in physicality, with each of them pushing and pulling at the other. you'd worry about the game losing its lightheartedness if both of them weren't smiling. "you stared at it for more than five minutes before getting out of the car."

"really?"

art freezes, his hand squeezing the only part of the ball patrick's left exposed. "it was a good billboard, you look pretty--looked pretty." the implication of his correction hits him a second too late. "not that you don't look pretty now, you always look pretty, but you looked really--" he cuts himself off with a sharp breath, "but that wasn't the point, you also looked like a strong role model for underprivileged young women."

the compliments paired with his uncertainty make it difficult not to melt. you beam at him. "thank you, art." you adjust your hold on your racket, both hands resting on the grip. "i think you're pretty, too."

he smiles, head briefly angling itself downwards. art manages to steal the tennis ball from his friend. you can't tell if he pulled it out of patrick's grasp or if patrick chose to let go.

"you know what the best thing to do is the night before a big match?" patrick's question feel rhetorical until you look at him. he's watching you like he's waiting for something.

despite knowing what you should be doing, you also know that you're incapable of not playing along. "what?"

"doing anything that keeps you from getting in your head." you stand a little straighter, chin angling itself a fraction of an inch upwards. as nice as the local doubles duo is, advice offered from other tennis players comes with its own sort of tension. saying that you know best implies that you see yourself as the best. "that's what's wrong with your serve."

your eyebrows briefly pinch together. "you think i'm in my head?"

he takes a slight step forward, body angling itself to make the distance between you feel even smaller than it truly is. "i think your serve is technically perfect." patrick takes a moment to press his lips together. "but you're tense."

patrick's going about this the nice way. he's focusing on what you're doing right. you technique is objectively precise, your dad made sure of that. he's coached you since you were old enough to securely hold a racket for a reason. but tennis isn't just routine and muscle memory.

there's an art to the sport, and you know the difference it makes when you're playing. you can feel when your heart is in it, and right now, all you can think about is that your retired tennis champion dad watching you in the stands.

the feeling of something warm on your shoulder pulls you out of your train of thought. you blink. patrick's hand is on your shoulder. "you need to relax."

"i'm..." it's instinct to argue, to insist that you're fine and that you'll push through, but something tells you that that'd be pointless. he'd know. "i'll work it out."

his fingers briefly press into your shoulder, the squeeze assuring and gentle. "that's your problem--work." you look at him skeptically. "you're overworking yourself, and it's putting you in your head."

art angles himself a little closer. he extends an arm, placing his fingers on the edge of your racket. "that's why you're supposed to rest the night before a match."

the thought of not being in motion isn't appealing. if anything, you feel like you have too much energy in your system. but objectively, you know they're generally right.

art gently tugs on your racket. "you should come hang out with us."

"yeah," patrick agrees with a slight hum, "you're in the hotel down the street, right?"

okay--you know the right answer. your dad would be mad if he found out you snuck out the night before a match to practice, but if he found out you ended up in a hotel room with some guys--he'd die and then come back to life just to kill you.

"um..." your eyes briefly fall to your racket. "yeah, i am." okay, you need to think of an excuse that doesn't make you sound like a little kid with a curfew. you twist your wrist slightly, a halfhearted attempt to free your racket. "but it's kind of late...and i have to be up early tomorrow."

art pulls on your tennis racket again. there's nothing overly forceful about it, but it's enough to make you look at him. "yeah, but you were going to stay out here for a awhile, right?"

"and it's good to take your mind off of things." patrick tacks on his point. "i mean--we always do something fun before our matches."

patrick stretches out an arm, the back of his hand softly hitting art's shoulder. "yeah, yeah, we do."

you press the nail of your thumb against the side of your racket's handle. "really?" you're mumbling to yourself more than anything else, "something fun."

it's risky. if anything goes wrong, you'll never hear the end of it. and if you mess up tomorrow because you're tired or distracted, you're not sure you'll be able to forgive yourself. you've already taken some risks tonight. you should quit while you're ahead.

then again, you like being around them, and they're in the same hotel as you. it can't be that bad of an idea.

you let out a reluctant sigh before finally looking up. you glance between them, too aware that it's too late for you. "okay," you breathe out, "i guess going up for a little bit can't hurt."

patrick grins. "can't hurt at all."

art lets go of your racket before taking a few steps forward. he stops once he's at your side before throwing an arm around your shoulder. "you know us." art's hand settles over patrick's. "we'd never do anything to hurt you."

warmth crawls up your chest. you're comfortable with them--maybe too comfortable. "yeah," you hum in an attempt to dismiss the feelings bubbling in your chest, "let's just go."

——

im thinking of writing a part 2 to this so if you’d be interested in that and/or would want to be tagged pls lmk :)

[coco-loco-nut]

Book Club - Part 6

pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader, Grid x Reader

summary: you and lance have a talent for traumating the grid *insert emotional damage meme here*

requests open masterlist

———————————

It was safe to say that that you and Lance were still very much in your honeymoon phase when you got to testing. Both of you very tan from your weeks spent on the beach.

“Y/n! You surprised the world when you announced your marriage and name change, Anything you want to say about it?” One of your favorite interviewers asks you as you walk hand in hand to the paddock with Lance.

“Sure, yeah. Lance and I have been together for a long time, so getting married was just the natural next step. It was a small wedding with close friends and family. Regarding my new name, alittle over a year ago, Kimi offered to mentor me and we forged a very close bond. He is basically my father and his kids are my siblings, so with the blessing of the family I wanted to honor the relationship the best way I knew how. Racing under the Räikkönen name is such a huge honor and I can’t thank my dad and family enough for the honor,” you beam, more than happy to talk about your family.

“How did Kimi react when you told him you were taking his name both legally and when racing,” she asks, your joy infectious.

“He was so happy, I told him at the wedding, yeah. We are such a tight family, I can’t thank them enough for bringing me into their family and allowing me to take their last name. And Lance has been wonderful about it, he actually suggested hyphenating the names,” you tell her. Usually you are pretty tight lipped, but you with happily talk with her.

“Alright, onto what actually matters. How are you feeling going into testing with Red Bull?” she asks and you take a step back into your normal interview style.

“Good. I certainly miss Checo here, but the car feels good. We will see how testing goes and work from there,” Lance gives you a look that says you will be late and the journalist notices.

“Thanks for chatting, and congratulations,” she says and you nod in thanks before walking away.

“You look very hot today, Mrs Räikkönen-Stroll,” Lance says kissing the side of your head.

“Maybe so, but nothing compares to you post race,” your cheeks flame a little. Lance pulls you into a small alley between motorhomes. You are pressed against the wall as Lance kisses you, hands tangled in each other’s hair.

“OH MY GOD!” you hear Daniel shriek.

“MY EYES!” Valtteri screams. Lance quickly pulls away from you as the four of you look at each like deer in the headlights. Daniel and Valtteri quickly walk away, leaving you and Lance giggling like school kids.

The club atmosphere was off when you walked in, taking a seat beside Logan. Valtteri can’t look you in the eyes while Daniel isn’t sure whether his is proud or scarred for life.

“Fernando, I was not aware of your taste in books,” Nico says, a little flushed thinking about what they had to read.

“Yeah, a smut book? We do have innocent eyes here,” Kevin looks at you and Logan.

“Innocent?” Logan asks, a breathy laugh behind it.

“The beach scene?” Lewis suggests you all start on.

“The writing was phenomenal, the author really captured the emotions and sensations. It read so raw, so lifelike. It was one of the few times that art imitated life. She captured every intimate thought and feeling that a woman gets when she is having sex. I remember during the honeymoon when Lance and I did something similar on the private beach and wow, the author really nailed it,” you say, not quite realizing what you had just revealed to the group.

“Damn, Y/n, I didn’t realize you and Lance were freaks like that. Respect,” Daniel says, never being one to shy away from sex. Your face twists in mortification at what you unintentionally revealed. The guys look at eachother mortified as well.

You were an adult, they knew that, but in their subconscious mind you haven’t done anything more than kiss a boy. That’s how you end up following them as they storm across the paddock.

“Logan! Help me stop them,” you look at him with panic in your eyes as the group nears the Aston Martin garage.

“Hell no, this is so funny,” he says and you huff. You see the guys cornering Lance.

“YOU RUINED OUR DAUGHTER?!” Fernando yells at his teammate. You just want to sink into a corner and die, similar to how Lance appears.

“Our precious, innocent, child. What’s next? Logan has slept with a girl?” Valtteri says.

“HEY!” Logan yells in offense. The guys’ faces drain of more color.

“You too? This isn’t ok,” Kevin says and you spot Max and Lando trying not to laugh, the two of them having seen the commotion and wanted to check it out.

“I think you guys are forgetting that the three of us are consenting adults, we aren’t kids anymore,” you say softly, Logan and Lance standing by you, the latter still scared.

“Tell that to Kimi,” Nico chuckles and you groan at the mention of your dad.

“Alright, stop harassing my teammate, we have meetings,” Max breaks everyone up, leading you away.

“Thanks, Maxie,” you let out a breath of relief.

“Do I want to know?” he laughs.

“No, I don’t think so,” you return his laugh. You just hope that your book club meeting will be smoother tomorrow morning.

The next morning, you walk into the room happy and perky as usual.

“You okay, Fernando?” Logan asks when he notices Fernando on his third cup of coffee and the tiredness in his eyes.

“The hotel has thin walls. My hotel room shares a wall with Lance’s,” Fernando says, giving you a look that makes you blush in embarrassment, wishing the earth would open up and eat you whole.

“It is natural. They are young and in love, maybe we will have a baby Stroll soon,” Lewis says and your eyes light up.

“We will!” you say, quickly pulling out your phone. The older drivers hearts sink, all slightly panicking. “Oh my god, I’m not pregnant guys, we are just getting a puppy,” you laugh at their faces.

“I would like to make a motion to kick Y/n out of the book club due to the amount of emotional distress she has given the members this weekend,” Valtteri says, and your jaw drop.

“Alright alright, but you don’t understand the almost of trauma I went through having rooms that neighbored all of you during my first year here,” you point your finger at all of them.

“Motion denied,” Daniel sighs, knowing he was probably one of the main culprits.

“So, this dog?” Nico says, changing the subject.

instagram

y/username EVERYONE MEET MY BABY!

since I’m too young to have a baby (according to the club) here is my baby holding our baby, Milo Stroll ❤️🐾🐶

logansargeant look at how big his paws are! he’s gonna be a big boy 😍

y/username his favorite uncle 🥰

danielricciardo @y/username I take offense to that

user1 y/n really had me in the first half

nicohulkenberg she had us too the first time she brought up Milo in conversation

lancestroll what a hot mama 😮‍💨

y/username nothing compared to the absolute DILF holding my sweet puppy in the picture

georgerussel MY EYES! MY INNOCENT EYES

[tonyspank]

ALL MINE

Warnings: G!P Reader, jealous jenna + smut (oral r receiving) and bad writing

Summary: It should’ve been clear you were all hers.

A/N: published this late bc i didn’t have my computer lol

Flashing lights, clicking, shouting, and smiling, are what's seen and heard during this event. The Met Gala, of course. Considered one of the most prestigious fashion events in the world, the Met Gala brings together celebrities, designers, and influential figures from various industries.

You fit into one of those roles, including that of your girlfriend, Jenna Ortega. Attending the Met Gala would not only be a thrilling experience for you, but it would also be a testament to Jenna Ortega's rising status in the entertainment industry. You both walk the red carpet, cameras flash, and journalists clamor to capture your stylish outfits and get a glimpse of your relationship, solidifying your place among the elite attendees of this iconic event.

Jenna's elegant gown turns heads, while your dapper suit perfectly complements her style. The excitement in the air is palpable as you step onto the red carpet, ready to immerse yourselves in an evening filled with glamour and unforgettable moments.

You smile at your girlfriend, admiring her confidence as she gracefully poses for the cameras. She was so damn beautiful. From her sparkling eyes to her radiant smile, Jenna exudes a magnetic charm that captivates everyone around her. As you walk hand in hand, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and gratitude for having such an incredible partner by your side. The night is young, and together, you're ready to create memories that will last a lifetime.

You both enter the grand ballroom, greeted by the sound of music and the sight of dazzling decorations. The atmosphere is electric, filled with a buzz of excitement and anticipation. As you make your way through the crowd, you can't help but notice the admiring glances directed towards Jenna. She effortlessly commands attention, her presence lighting up the room. With every step, you feel like you're living in a dream, surrounded by glamour and unforgettable moments.

"I'll be back, baby. I'm going to go say hi to Olivia and Conan," Jenna says, leaning into your ear so you can hear her over the music. You lean down, catching a whiff of her intoxicating perfume, and nod in agreement.

Is that...a cat suit? You think to yourself, watching as it walks past you. As they do so, they take off the top of it, revealing it to be Jared Lato. You can't help but do a double-take, your eyes widening in shock. "What is going on, man?" You mutter to yourself, trying to make sense of the unexpected sight.

Jenna is back, greeting you with a smile before placing her hand on your chest. "I wanna kiss you so badly," she admits, her gaze staring deep into your eyes. You feel your heartbeat increase along with your smile. "Really?"

She hums, moving her hand to the right side of your cheek, and leaning in closer, her lips just inches away from yours. "Then kiss me." You whisper.

You both jump away at the sudden voice, "Y/N!"

You turn around to see your co-star, Sarah, standing there with an apologetic smile on her face. "Sorry to interrupt your moment," she says, "but everyone is looking for you for a photo." You can't help but laugh at the timing of her arrival, though Jenna finds this situation unhumorous.

Jenna's face tightens with frustration as she glances at Sarah, clearly annoyed by the interruption. You quickly compose yourself and assure Sarah that you'll be right there for the photo. "I'll be back, babe. Promise." You press a kiss on her cheek before walking away with Sarah. You can't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving Jenna behind. You make a mental note to make it up to her later and hope that she understands the demands of the industry.

Sarah was your love interest in your new movie, and the two of you had been spending a lot of time together on set. Despite the "chemistry"between you and Sarah, you would always be loyal to Jenna, your long-time girlfriend. She was truly the love of your life, and you didn't want anyone but her.

Given that you'd have to remind Sarah at times that the romance was just through your character, not in real life, she didn't like to take hints, always trying to blur the lines between fiction and reality. It became increasingly challenging to maintain a professional boundary with Sarah, as she constantly sought opportunities to deepen your connection off-screen.

She'd enjoy the fact that your fans would ship her more than you and Jenna, always mentioning your "chemistry off set" in an interview when it couldn't be further from the truth. Regardless of your efforts to maintain a platonic relationship, Sarah's persistent attempts to intertwine fiction and reality made it difficult to navigate the boundaries of professionalism.

You didn't want to freak out on her due to the fact that you have seven more long months of working together on this project. So, you tried your best to put on fake smiles and ignore her delusions.

"We look so cute!" Sarah says, pointing at the two of you in the cast photo. Well, all the cast members that were invited to the Met Gala. You chuckle awkwardly, trying to downplay the comment. "Yeah, it's a nice picture," you respond nonchalantly, hoping to divert the conversation away from her fantasies.

"I should get back to my girlfriend," you say, subtly hinting that you have other commitments and responsibilities outside of work. Sarah nods understandingly, but you can tell she's disappointed. "Okay...will you be at the afterparty?"

You hesitate for a moment, considering your options. "I'm not sure yet," you reply, keeping your plans vague. "I'll have to see how the night goes." Sarah's face lights up with anticipation, but you quickly walk away, not wanting to give her false hope.

Jenna was upset. That much was obvious. But what did you do exactly? You rack your brain, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that may have caused Jenna's upset. You replay the events of the evening in your mind, searching for any potential missteps or misunderstandings.

You shake your head, leaving the booth of the club where the Met Gala was hosting the afterparty. You walk to the bar, ordering a stiff drink to help clear your thoughts. You don't notice Jenna is sipping on her own drink, watching you at the bar from the booth.

"Hey, stranger." Sarah says. She places a hand on your bicep, squeezing it. You were about to yell at the girl, but you realize she's obviously drunk. Her words slur together as she tries to maintain her balance. You take a deep breath, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt and offer her a helping hand instead. "Where's Sadie?"

"Ion know?" Sarah laughs, placing her drink down on the bar. "She was...I don't know." You let out a sigh, placing a hand on Sarah's waist to stop her from fumbling over herself. As you steady Sarah, you can't help but wonder if Sadie is also somewhere in the same state.

"I like you, Y/N...so much. What does Jenna have that I don't?" You look into Sarah's eyes, appreciating her honesty but feeling a twitch of sadness for the girl. "Sarah, it's not about what Jenna has or doesn't have. It's about the connection we share and the moments we've built together." As you speak, you can't help but hope that Sarah understands the depth of your feelings for her.

"Please, just one...one time." Her hand reaches for your cheek, but a sharp voice halts her movements. "Y/N, we're leaving. Now." Jenna. Jenna clenches her jaw, trying her best to stay professional and calm in front of everyone.

"Jenna—" You were about to explain Sarah's state, but the sharp look she sends you makes you shut up immediately. Jenna's stern expression leaves you no choice but to comply with her demand. You walk out of the afterparty, following behind Jenna and Enrique like a lost puppy.

As the three of you sit in the black SUV, you take out your phone to send a quick text to Sadie, asking her to find Sarah before anything bad happens. You also text Sarah, letting her know that you had to leave abruptly and apologizing for not being able to explain the situation. You hope that when she wakes up she'll appreciate it, forgetting the embarrassing moment that happened not too long ago.

Jenna watches your fingers type out a message with her eyes like a hawk. She leans in closer, curiosity evident on her face. Enrique continues to talk about the outfits he saw at the Met Gala, not noticing Jenna's growing interest in your conversation with Sarah.

Jenna finally interrupts Enrique, "Who are you texting?" she asks, her voice laced with suspicion. You hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not to share the details with Jenna. "Uh, just... a friend," you reply vaguely, not wanting to delve into the specifics.

Jenna's eyebrows furrow, sensing your evasiveness. "Just a friend? Why are you being so secretive?" she presses, her suspicion growing stronger. You offer a reassuring smile, hoping to alleviate her concerns. "It's nothing serious, just a personal matter that I need to handle privately," you explain gently, hoping she understands and respects your boundaries.

You watch her eyebrows twitch up. As if her name is Barry Allen, she quickly snatches your phone from your hand, eager to uncover any hidden messages or clues. Her actions catch you off guard, and you feel a surprised and frustrated.

"Jenna, please respect my privacy," you say firmly, trying to retrieve your phone from her grasp. However, she seems determined to find answers and continues scrolling through your messages, making you realize the need for a more assertive approach to setting boundaries with her.

You take a deep breath, realizing that Jenna's curiosity has crossed a line. With a stern voice, you firmly declare, "Jenna, I understand your curiosity, but invading my privacy is not acceptable." Jenna looks up, and you can see a hint of regret in her eyes as she hands back your phone.

You turn your phone face down, looking out the window, not bothering to talk to her or her stylist. Enrique's eyes widen, sensing the tension between the two of you. He decides it's best if he stays silent, distracting himself with his phone.

When you arrive at your hotel room, you take a deep breath, not wanting anything more than to shower and go straight to bed. The long day has taken a toll on you, along with the tense atmosphere between you and your girlfriend.

You start taking off your belt buckle, struggling to undo the stubborn clasp. Frustration builds as you realize how exhausted you truly are, causing your hands to tremble slightly. You decide to move to your blazer instead, hoping that removing a layer of clothing will provide some relief.

As you unbutton the blazer, Jenna begins to speak. "Baby, I'm sorry, okay?" Her voice is filled with sincerity, but you can still sense the lingering tension. You pause for a moment, contemplating her words, before responding with a tired sigh, "I appreciate your apology, Jenna. We can talk about it tomorrow when we're both less exhausted."

She frowns while walking toward you, "Please. I got jealous, okay? It's annoying to see everyone else flirting with you all the time. I know it's not your fault, but it still gets to me sometimes." You nod understandingly, realizing that her jealousy stems from her own insecurities. "I understand where you're coming from, Jenna. But you know more than anyone that I am committed to you and our relationship."

You begin unbuttoning your black button-up, revealing your black tank to. The sight of your exposed tank top brings a small smile to Jenna's face. "I appreciate that , and I trust you completely," she says softly. "Sometimes, I just need a reminder that we're in this together."

Your hands go back to your belt, still unable to take it off. "Let me make it up to you, Y/N." You hum in response, your attention on your belt. Jenna's hands replace yours, undoing your belt with ease. As she removes your belt, her touch sends a shiver down your spine. "I want to show you how much you mean to me," she whispers, her voice filled with genuine love.

Before you can ask how, her fingers tug at your zipper, slowly pulling it down. The anticipation builds as she leans in closer, her warm breath grazing your ear. "But I also want you to remember you're all mine, okay, love?," she murmurs, pressing a kiss on your ear.

You feel a rush of desire as her words sink in, and your pants feel tighter against your skin. The intensity of her touch and the passion in her voice leave you craving more. With each moment that passes, you become more aware of the depth of her love for you and the power she holds over your heart.

Jenna sinks to her knees, her eyes locked with yours, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. She slowly trails her fingers up your thighs, sending waves down your spine. You can't help but give in to the alluring spell she has cast over you as the lust grows.

She pulls your pants down along with your boxers, revealing your desire, eager and ready for her touch. Her hands wrap around your cock, her touch firm yet gentle, as she begins to stroke you with expert precision. The intensity of her gaze never wavers, fueling the fire of desire that courses through your veins.

You bite your lip, your knees buckling as she adds her tongue to the mix, sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body. Every touch, every stroke, and every flick of her tongue only intensifies the desire that consumes you, making it impossible to resist her seductive power.

"Do you think I'll be able to fit it all in my mouth this time?" Her voice drips with a tantalizing mixture of confidence and mischief, heightening the anticipation that hangs heavy in the air. As she teasingly locks eyes with you, a mischievous smile dances across her lips, leaving you breathless with anticipation for what is to come.

The room feels charged with electricity as you watch her slowly take you in, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. Your heart races, your breath becomes shallow, and you can feel the pulsating ache of desire growing within you. Her head begins to bop, trying her best to take in every inch, her eyes never leaving yours.

Your hand flies to her hair, gripping it gently as you guide her movements, the sensation of her warm mouth sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Fuck, Jenna...take it."

The heat of the moment builds, and you find yourself lost in the raw connection between you, unable to tear your gaze away from her captivating eyes. As her lips continue to glide up and down your length, you feel the tension building within you, the pleasure mounting with every gentle suck and flick of her tongue.

The feeling of her soft lips against your skin is electric, each stroke of her mouth pushing you closer to the edge. In that moment, nothing else matters but the two of you, lost in an intimate dance of desire and passion.

"I'm so close, Jen. Shiiit..." You rasp out, throwing your head back, before quickly locking eyes with your girlfriend. She increases her pace, matching your intensity as she continues to pleasure you. All that's heard in the room are the sounds of your combined moans, heightening the intensity of the moment.

As the pleasure intensifies, you feel your body trembling, teetering on the brink of release. You start moving your hips, fucking her throat, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins. "I'm cumming!" you groan, exploding in your girlfriend's mouth. She eagerly swallows every drop, her eyes locked with yours as she savors the taste.

"Do you forgive me for tonight?" You tiredly nod at her words. "You're forgiven," you manage to whisper, still catching your breath. She gently wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

[feasibilities]

"Perhaps you should have some, clear your head."

Investigative Reports | Jonathan Crane x Journalist!Reader

Warnings: Non-Con, Drugging, Kidnapping, Dumbification, Bondage, Corruption, Pet Names, Hallucinations, Cockwarming, etc. Author's Note: I finally got around to writing this! This insane post got a lot of hilarious/supportive reactions, so thank you. I hope it really is The Most Disgraceful Fanfiction Ever Made.

“Would you like to see our treatment facility?” Jonathan inquired, smiling faintly.

“Of course. Where is it located?” You said, looking around curiously. 

“The elevator will take us there.” Jonathan replied, guiding you inside. You wondered why he was so eager to show you this “facility”, but it would be good for your article on Arkham Asylum. You also noticed that his hand lingered on your lower back. You made a mental note of the floor being accessible by key only. The door opened to a poorly lit corridor with double doors at the toward the back. A sinking feeling in crept into your gut but you followed behind him anyway. He opened the doors to an underground sweatshop. You saw the faces of some of the criminals who mysteriously avoided being prosecuted. 

“This is where we make the medicine.” Jonathan said. You quickly realized this was a trap. Why would he be willing to show you this if he would let you leave? A feeling of panic clawed at your internal organs but you stayed perfectly still.

“Perhaps you should have some, clear your head...” He said in a restrained tone, swallowing harshly. His icy disposition transformed into that of a monster. You ran for the elevator and frantically pressed the buttons. The doors never closed. You scurried out and ran down the hallway. You ducked into one of the empty holding cells. You saw a white bed with restraints. You hid in the corner behind it and held your breath. Tears rolled down your face as you blamed yourself for taking on this story. 

“Ready or not, here I come.” A ragged, disorienting voice spoke. Your heart dropped as the voice was a complete contrast from the composed one you heard minutes ago. You covered your mouth to muffle any sobs. You heard his footsteps click down the corridor before they stopped in front of the cell you were in. You crouched to make yourself as small as possible. You saw a figure with a burlap mask over his head. 

“Hmm, I wonder where she could’ve run off to.” Jonathan said sarcastically, knowing exactly where you were. Walking to your hiding spot, he stood over you. 

“There you are, princess.” He cooed. He kneeled down and wiped your tears with his thumb. You cringed at his touch and tried to scoot away. He pulled you back and put a white cloth over your mouth and nose. Your struggling was useless. Blackness crept into your vision as you lost consciousness. 

——

You woke up to an unfamiliar bedroom and a throbbing headache. This room was quite different from the dilapidated cell you fell asleep in. You didn’t recognize the pink silk nightie you had on. You were tucked in perfectly as well. You had little to no memory of the night before. Jonathan came in and shut the door behind him. Checking his watch, he smiled to himself. 

“Just in time.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“What happened? My head is killing me.” You inquired, sitting up slightly. 

“You had a fall and hit your head. I know how to make you feel better.” He said softly, pulling the comforter from your body. His smooth hands ran up your thighs. 

“I-I don’t think this will help.” You hesitated. 

“Of course it will.” Jonathan replied. You pushed his hands away and tried to cover yourself once more. 

“I guess I’ll have to tie you up, darling.” He relented, retrieving rope from the nightstand. He removed your nightie and folded it neatly. He tied you in the Shibari style of the Star Harness with your arms bound. He covered your mouth with duct tape. He pulled you to the edge of the bed and bent you over. You cried desperately in hopes that he would stop. 

“Shh. The more you struggle, the longer it lasts.” He hushed you, kissing the back of your head. He took in the sweet smell of your hair. You felt him slide into you slowly, whimpering at his size. His thrusts were slow but deep to the point of causing pain. Your knees buckled with each thrust. 

“Already falling apart, hmm? Isn’t that sweet...” Jonathan purred, speeding up. You looked back at him with teary eyes. Jonathan kissed you over the duct tape on your mouth. Sounds of skin hitting skin filled the room. You clenched around him frenetically, earning cruel spanks from him. His glacial blue eyes bore into yours. A searing pain managed to reach your cervix as his movements grew careless.  The rope he adorned you in began to scrape painfully against your skin. 

“Want me to stop?” He teased. You nodded frantically. He pulled the tape off your mouth painfully. 

“Please, sir.” You begged innocently, beginning to cry once more. 

“Of course, my love.” He whispered, pulling out. He groaned at the sight of your arousal dripping down your legs. He took out a polaroid camera and snapped some pictures of you from behind. You turned away until he violently flipped you over. He put his middle & index fingers in your mouth. 

“Smile, sweet pea.” He mocked, snapping one final picture. Setting the camera aside, he stared down at you with an esurient gaze. You shifted uncomfortably as you were still tied up. His fingertips grazed the tender burgeon of your nipple. Enjoying the sensation, you pushed your chest up into his hand. You mewled sweetly and batted your eyes. 

“Don’t do that…” Jonathan said, barely holding it together. 

“I can’t help it.” You whined, oblivious to his impending breakdown. He was fuming at the effect you had on him. 

“Right.” Jonathan said, standing up and opening a drawer nearby. He grabbed a burlap mask and held it up for you to see. 

“Remember this, hun?” He inquired, taking off his glasses.

“No, what is it?” You replied, furrowing your eyebrows. 

Sliding it over his head, you froze in fear. You realized he was the man of your never-ending nightmares. You suddenly saw hallucinations of maggots and spiders crawling from the eye & mouth holes of his mask. The world around you started to spin nauseatingly. You closed your eyes tightly hoping it would all end quickly.

“I knew you would remember me, angel.” He said, speaking in the same ragged voice. He walked to you and untied the rope around your body. He began spreading your legs once more. You scratched, punched, and bit him to no avail. In actuality, your resistance was much weaker than you thought. The sedative he gave you drained you of any kind of physical strength. 

“Help!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, hoping anyone could hear. Jonathan put a firm hand over your mouth and entered you once more. This time, his pace was sadistic and blistering. The headboard banged against the wall. You felt your bones shake with every motion. You screamed behind his hand until you had no voice to scream with. That familiar band of pleasure in your lower half finally broke. Your body convulsed wildly. He enjoyed seeing you unravel. 

“Almost done, stay still.” He sneered, continuing his assault. Your mind was nearly blank from everything that was happening. Jonathan moved his hand from your mouth to your throat as he was getting close. Your fucked-out expression made his heart flutter. Suddenly, hot spurts of seed shot into you. His groans echoed through the bedroom. You felt some relief that it was over. Instead, he laid next to you and slid back in hastily. He wrapped his arms around you to keep you still. Your shaky hand clawed at them. A doused white cloth smothered you once more as you lost consciousness.

“Sweet dreams.” He whispered, holding you close.