#things are progressing

[jacks347]

I absolutely love your faithful and Albus fics you eat them up every time, MAKE MORE AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSS!!(jk)

D'awwww stop it 🥰

I absolutely adore writing about these two, they're some of my favorites and I definitely plan to do more with them

Is some of it fluffy and sweet and tooth-rottingly adorable? Absolutely

Is some of it horrifying and agonizing and soul-crushingly painful? Of course

Is one ridiculously spicy when I don't write spicy shit (at least not by myself)? Strangely enough yes

Will I ever finish any of them? No clue but I'm gonna try

Sorry GB, they're mine now and I'm not giving them back >:3

[kyluxtrashpit]

Chapter 3 of Under Construction is here! What will happen when Kylo returns to Hux's camp? And what questions and doubts will manifest as a result? You'll have to read to find out ;)

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri x OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter Six: Textbook Victim (Mickey’s POV)

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, stalking, stealing, mentions of murder, mentions of killing Dahlia, kissing, feelings, Mickey being a sick fuck, insight to Mickey’s obsession with Dahlia, mention of masturbation, etc

I know I said I was waiting till I finished chapter seven, but some of you are just so excited it makes me so happy to know that you guys love this series so far! Like, it means the world you don’t even know. So much love to everyone whose taking the time to read this series because man, it is so inspiring. Once again, big huge massive thank you to @bisexual-horror-fan for beta reading and editing this chapter dude! I really couldn’t do this without you. Love you a fuckton! <3

Also @lizey-thornberry you wanted to be tagged! Appreciate the love dude!

Let’s go!

Everything about her was utterly magnetic, but she had absolutely no idea of the impact she was having on me.

I knew why I was here, what my job was. If she knew what I was doing, she wouldn’t be happy with me, but I just can’t help myself. That’s the understatement of the fucking century, she’d hate me. Could I blame her if she did? No.

From the moment I saw her, I was enticed. I remembered before coming to Windsor College, seeing news articles about her and of course with what we had planned, I had to do my research.

It didn’t take me long to find out that Dahlia Levine was Stu Macher's cousin, though it took scouring through a lot of different websites and talking to some people obsessed with the Woodsboro murders to find out, as it hadn’t been in Gale Weathers shitty book. According to one guy, Dahlia’s family was insanely wealthy and paid off a fuck ton of people to protect their name and their image, but not their daughter. I’d seen a picture of her for the first time in one of the many chat rooms and God, she was beautiful. She was standing next to Stu in a family picture that had been almost entirely scrubbed from the internet, mid-laugh from something he himself had clearly said because the woman I assumed to be her mother did not look impressed by either of them.

She was fucking perfect. Too fucking perfect. I like to think I have an impressive vocabulary, but she makes it hard to find the words to describe her, nothing feels quite good enough.

I stared at that photo maybe a little too often, fisted my cock when looking into her big brown eyes and just like that, I needed her. I needed to kill her, slide the cold steel of my knife into her over and over again whilst looking into those damn brown eyes and watch the light fade out of them. I needed this more than I needed air to breathe, more than I wanted to kill Sidney fucking Prescott and her stupid group of fucking friends.

Then I saw her in person a few months before we were officially introduced.

I thought that this girl couldn’t be the same girl in the picture I’d been staring at all these months. Her eyes weren’t right, already lifeless, which honestly put me off. She never smiled, she never laughed. She hardly registered it when anyone acknowledged her. You know that phrase, lights on, nobody home? It’s like lights were off, and the house was abandoned, haunted by some barely there ghost.

I began subtly following her around campus, video camera in hand, deciding to track her. Although her days were basic, consisting of classes and visits to the library as well as the laundry room in her building, I felt myself becoming more and more connected to her over the weeks. I’d watch everything she did. I’d watch everything Randy and Sidney did too, but that was different, I didn’t have the same interest which I knew my predecessor's mother would not be at all happy about, but the fuck did I care? The killings wouldn’t be starting for a year and a half, and I needed a toy to entertain myself with.

But then? Oh, my fucking God, then I found out that Dahlia had died.

I’d been walking past the library where Sidney and Randy perched on the steps, talking to each other in clear yet hushed voices about the events of Woodsboro, which immediately caught my attention. I was good at hiding in plain sight, so I walked around the steps of the library and leaned against the wall, pulling a book out of my bag, so I could listen to Randy talk.

“She keeps saying she’s fine, Sid,” Randy had said, worried concern was evident in his tone, “But you’ve seen her, she’s not the same as before.”

“Well, are you surprised?” Sidney had whispered back, eyes locked on him as she said, “Stu did nothing, and she died-“ my brow suddenly creased, and my eyes narrowed as I listened on, “- after Billy stabbed her. Would you be okay if your cousin just stood by and let that happen?”

That just piqued my interest in her further.

Now, I can admit that I get a little… Obsessive, and at times it doesn’t come out in the best of ways. I’m usually able to channel that obsession, steal things that belong to the object of my extraordinary interests, but with her? It was never enough. Breaking into her dorm and stealing her notebooks? Her clothes? Her panties? Getting myself off to the thought of killing her with them clenched between my fingers? It was never enough. I had to know her, I needed to know her. I couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she’d be, my perfect victim; the relative of one of the Ghostfaces who had not only died, but came back to life. What could be more ideal than that as a victim?

So I infiltrated myself into Sidney’s friend group, earlier than Nancy and I had initially discussed. Of course, she wasn’t happy, she thought I’d made myself “too available too fast” and they’d grow suspicious, but I don’t know if they were oblivious, in denial or just downright stupid because they pretty much welcomed me with open arms after I grew closer to Derek. I started talking to Randy in film class, playfully arguing about movies and cinema and harmlessly flirted with Hallie when I’d bump into her around campus, but she wasn’t who I wanted.

It was just like a game, like I was in my very own movie. It was fun, but I still wanted her, and I couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t hang around with Sidney and Randy that often at the very least.

I’d seen her talking to Sidney whilst I was talking to some girl from my statistics class and I quickly brushed her off when their conversation ended, making her sigh irritably at my sudden lack of interest in her and flounce off in a huff, but I paid her no mind. Sid and I had plans for coffee, so when she waved to me, walking across the green I smiled at her as warmly as I could muster, reluctantly forcing my gaze away from Dahlia.

“Who was that?” I’d asked casually, gesturing loosely over to Dahlia’s retreating form headed for the library.

Sid glanced over her shoulder and I saw her smile sadly in her direction as she sighed, “That’s Dahlia.”

“That’s Dahlia?” I’d asked in careful surprise, ensuring my tone wasn’t overly fake. It was the first time I’d said her name out loud, and I couldn’t help but enjoy the way it rolled off my tongue, “You and Randy talk about her, but I wasn’t sure she was even real.”

“She’s…” Sid hesitated for a moment as she turned back to look at me before continuing, “Shy. She’s never quite moved on from what happened in Woodsboro, you know? It’s harder for her.”

“How come?” I asked, but of course I already knew.

Sidney pursed her lips, eyebrows furrowing a little as she briefly shook her head, clearly trying to change the subject, “It doesn’t matter. Are we getting coffee or what? Derek said he’s meeting us there.”

I ignored her attempt to divert the conversation, trying to keep my voice even as I continued, “You know, if she’s shy, maybe you should introduce her to us.” I suggested, walking alongside Sidney, whose face turned a little thoughtful. I grasped at straws and carried on, “Maybe her having friends that aren’t just you and Randy can help her move on, get her back to however she was before.”

Sidney looked up at me, head tilted a little to the side and her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“You said she never quite moved on from Woodsbro. And although I only saw her from a distance, she looked… Sad.” I replied smoothly. Damn, Sidney was a suspicious person. Of course, she had every right to be, but I knew I had to start being more careful. I couldn’t let the fact that I wanted Dahlia get in the way of my true purpose, from achieving what I was destined to achieve.

Shortly after, Sidney introduced Dahlia to everybody. And now, a few months later, here we were, Dahlia’s soft lips pressing against mine as she pulled herself up on her toes using my shoulders, and taking me completely by surprise.

I didn’t know what to do, I just froze. This wasn’t what I expected, not at all. I didn’t have feelings for people. I fucked them, sure, falling into bed or being on a couch, making them believe I was into them, sliding deep inside a soaked hole and taking advantage of vulnerability, being inside a person but not letting them back in was natural to me. I flirted, of course, led people on, played the game and enjoyed pulling people like puppets on strings, but her? Being here, feeling her warm soft body pressed against mine, tasting her, smelling her coconut scented shampoo, it was different. I felt my heart thud in my chest, felt the reserve of my confidence begin to fade.

Fuck, she had me already. It took a moment, but I kissed her back slowly, my hands pulling her closer to me by her hips. I felt her breath hitch slightly, and I couldn’t help but smile against her, my fingers moving to trail up the curve of her spine and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

She wasn’t a bad kisser, she just seemed so sweetly inexperienced, it was fucking intoxicating. God, I wanted to fucking teach her. I wanted to show her just how good her life could be until the day I inevitably ended it.

Something seemed to snap and quickly change inside of her as she suddenly stiffened before gasping into my mouth and gently pushing me away from her, pulling back with her eyes wide in horror and embarrassment as she looked at me and took a few steps back. Her hands falling to her side as she looked at my very evidently dumbstruck face, “I’m sorry! Oh my God, that was so stupid, I am so sorry!”

She began rambling, fast and almost incoherent as a stream of apologies left her, almost tumbling over each other in their haste to be expressed. I shook my head, unable to stop the amused smile taking over my face as I looked over her.

Her cheeks were stained a gorgeous pink, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I could twist it, pink bleeds instead to the red inside of her, the scarlet that pumps through her veins, pushing, making her draw breath and live, would be even more beautiful, staining the steel of my knife. Fuck, she’d be absolutely ideal.

“Dahlia,” I spoke her name first, a pause followed before I asked quietly, making her eyes flicker up to mine before they fell on the ground again, “Was that your first kiss?”

She let out a small scoff, but her cheeks flushed even deeper and said nothing. Could this be any more perfect? The plan started churning endlessly in my mind. The potential future of us stretches out before me as if on endless spools of film reel, rolling in every which way, so many scenes, how many could be acted out? How many would make the cutting room floor?

I never pretended to be a good person, I’m not. Truthfully, I like Dahlia. I like how I was the only person able to bring back the fire she used to have inside of her, not even that fucking idiot Randy could do that, and they had been friends for years. Though, I really think he wants more, but that’s too fucking bad for him. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I want her. Looking at her, just so beautiful, so fucking vulnerable and pure, is when I knew.

It wasn’t like with Billy and Sidney, I didn’t hate Dahlia, I didn’t want revenge for anything. I like her, perhaps too much. I don’t know how to distinguish between liking or loving someone and obsession, to me the two were like two sides of the same coin. But there is one similar thing I did share with Billy.

I was going to have her, strip her from all the remaining innocence she had. Touch her, taste her, heal her, fuck the life right back into her before I thought it was time to take all of it away. I want to tear her apart. I want to piece her back together, fix her just to ruin her, be the one to end her, finish the job Billy fucking Loomis couldn’t.

The one thing, though, is she has to die. I don’t want to kill her for any reason but to fulfill her destiny and make people see her for who she is.

The absolute perfect, textbook victim. My fucking victim. She’d be immortalized, is that not what everyone wants?

“It’s okay, Dahl.” I laughed, taking a step toward her. She didn’t move, and her eyes refused to meet mine as I continued, “You want to pretend like it didn’t happen, that’s fine, we can carry on just being friends.”

This made her eyes look up into mine, so deep, warm brown like when the sun filters through leaves on trees in autumn before they fall and innocent it made my head spin, “Is that what you want? Do you really think we can be just friends?” She asked in a small voice. She looked so… innocent. If I’m being honest, she was utterly endearing. Her big brown eyes looked like pools of honey in the remaining light, deep and enticing.

The sun was beginning to set now, how long had we been out here? There wasn’t really anyone on the green anymore, just a few stragglers that may as well have been pieces of trash for all the attention I was giving them.

How should I play this?

“Honestly, I don’t think you and I are ever going to be “just friends”, Dahl.” I said truthfully, fingers raising in air quotations.

I heard her swallow, and she lightly shrugged her shoulders with a sigh, “I don’t know you, Mickey. Not really. Can’t we just forget it happened?”

Fuck, I loved the way she said my name. It sounded like music to my ears, and I couldn’t help but imagine her moaning and panting it into my ear. This girl was driving me fucking insane, yet she had absolutely no idea.

“No.” I responded simply, unable to stop looking at her lips as I took another step forward, hands moving to rest on her hips. Again, she didn’t move, but now her eyes were on me, like she was unable to look away from me too.

Chapter Seven HERE

[graveyarrdshift]

"I'm just a girl", "girl math", "girl dinner", "divine feminine energy", "bimbocore", "clean girl", "girl's girl", "girlfriend brain" SHUT UPPP!!! SHUTT THE FUCKKKK UPPPPPP !!!!

[creekfiend]

something that drives me insane on a relatively regular basis as a body jewelry understander is talking to people who have sensitive skin who are like "oh well I just can't wear any earrings without my ears getting inflamed" and I say "well what have you tried" and they say "well I've tried sterling silver and I've tried gold..." and it's like. ok. I don't know how gold and sterling somehow got spun by the jewelry industry as being especially good for sensitive skin but whenever I'm like "well have you tried implant grade titanium" they're always like "no....... but I've tried sterling silver... and it didn't work ..." like. I don't know how this narrative about sterling silver somehow got so strong but when they put pins in your fucking legs when you snap your leg in half are those pins made of sterling silver or are they made of implant grade titanium or surgical steel????????? HELLO. HI. YOU MIGHT BENEFIT FROM TRYING IMPLANT GRADE TITANIUM I AM JUST SAYING

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I want more female characters who are just so bad at comforting others. Not for lack of trying or caring, they just get so so awkward when someone's upset, and they try to repeat things they've heard even if it doesn't necessarily apply to the situation, or they accidentally say the wrong thing and make it worse. If someone cries they panic and throw every single comfort technique down at once and it only helps because it's such bizarre behaviour

This post is for all women including trans women and op loves trans women. Terfs kill yourselves

[saltavenegar]

Chat I fear I am cooking too hard with this animatic

[writeouswriter]

[keferon]

Jazz“talking”: Aww you’re gonna do that for me?~

Jazz writing: Bruh that’s a lot to learn

Anyway! More Mimics AU>:D

<- Previous Next->

[wonkyjaw]

Quilt update. This is split somewhere in the blues and I have to sew that together and then I have to add one more yellow row to the top. Then the quilt top is finally, finally done.

[jacks347]

Just wanted to peak in and say hi!!

Hope everything you write will be compelling and heartbreaking!!

:D It's my favorite follower! Hi!!

Trust me, it will be! It's my favorite thing to do!

[thebreadmantm]

Post coffin Daisy my fucking fav

Drawing her so much thinner with the mussel atrophy almost broke me

[jakeperalta]

the thing is I already know that men and society at large hate women. I know that young men in particular increasingly skew right and towards misogyny (I've read the articles, although all I really need to do is spend any time on any part of the internet to see the evidence). but then every so often something like this happens where it still somehow surprises me. like my god.. they really hate us this much.

[writers-potion]

how do you write a liar?

How to Write Liars Believably

Language

The motive of every goal is the make the lie seem plausible while taking blame off the speaker, so liars will often project what they say to a third party: "Katie said that..."

Referring to third parties as "they" rather than he or she

In the case of a deliberate lie prepped beforehand, there will be an overuse of specific names (rather than pronouns) as the speaker tries to get the details right.

Overuse of non-committal words like "something may have happened"

Masking or obscuring facts like "to the best of my knowledge" and “it is extremely unlikely," etc.

Avoiding answers to specific, pressing questions

Voice

There's isn't a set tone/speed/style of speaking, but your character's speech patten will differ from his normal one.

People tend to speak faster when they're nervous and are not used to lying.

Body Language

Covering their mouth

Constantly touching their nose

fidgeting, squirming or breaking eye contact

turning away, blinking faster, or clutching a comfort object like a cushion as they speak

nostril flaring, rapid shallow breathing or slow deep breaths, lip biting, contracting, sitting on your hands, or drumming your fingers. 

Highly-trained liars have mastered the art of compensation by freezing their bodies and looking at you straight in the eye.

Trained liars can also be experts in the art of looking relaxed. They sit back, put their feet up on the table and hands behind their head.

For deliberate lies, the character may even carefully control his body language, as though his is actually putting on a show

The Four Types of Liars

Deceitful: those who lie to others about facts

2. Delusional: those who lie to themselves about facts

3. Duplicitious: those who lie to others about their values

Lying about values can be even more corrosive to relationships than lying about facts. 

4. Demoralized: those who lie to themselves about their values

Additional Notes

Genuine smiles or laughs are hard to fake

Exaggerations of words (that would normally not be emphasized) or exaggerated body language

Many savvy detectives ask suspects to tell the story in reverse or non-linear fashion to expose a lie. They often ask unexpected, or seemingly irrelevant questions to throw suspects off track. 

[dreamweave01]

Part 2 ->

*Penguin waddles into room inconspicuously*

*Drops first half of comic with a pat on the head*

*Jazz hands and mystically teleports into thin air before mob arrives*