#this is a motivational post to make me read this damn book!!

[jenysmooth]

Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson

This is a book I started several years ago, but I never got very far into it. The writing is so stylized, I found it hard to just sit and read this thing! That led to me picking up and putting down the book again and again until now, two years later and 24 chapters in! This time, I'm committed to finishing it.

Although it's a mentally exhausting book to read, it's still super fun. I'm never less impressed by how Stephenson was able to so accurately predict the future of virtual reality! Still, I always think back to my husband's friend, who was in a fencing class with Stephenson when he lived in Seattle. He hadn't known his fencing buddy wrote the book Snow Crash--so he told him to his face the book sucked. Legend has it Neal took it like a champ.

This one's for you, dumbass!

Whenever I choose a book to read, I try to match it with a fitting tarot deck and card to use as a bookmark. For this one, I saw The Fool as the perfect avatar (teehee) for Hiro Protagonist. The deck I picked was the stylish hand-drawn set by the incredibly talented svnddlsnts.

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn��t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[thera-daydreams]

SCARLET & SHADOW

ᱬ The Darkling x Scarlet Witch!Reader ᱬ

[aleksander morozova x wanda maximoff!reader]

Warning: This will be very canon-divergent, considering that it will be a fix-it fic for the Darkling's story. Will contain elements of violence, manipulation, and gore present in the series. Plus, mentions of depression, trauma, regret (as W. Maximoff) and the inclusion of possible adult themes in the later chapters.

Majority of this will also be based on the Netflix show since I haven't read the entire books yet. There may be inaccuracies and a whole lot of changes. You have been warned!

Otherwise, proceed and enjoy! ♟️🌹

(Sidenote: So... okay. I'm deciding to write this and make it a formal fanfic—as per previous post one and post two—because I seriously cannot sleep with the overwhelming inspiration I'm getting from shipping these two characters. Aleksander and Wanda are practically the same person in different fonts. They both did shitty, selfish things but I need to give them a happy ending. Together. Somehow. And hate it or love it, I firmly believe this idea should be shared to the world. If you know my other JJK fic, you'll know Wanda is an obsession of mine. Also, also, also! Please bear with me if updates are scarce. I'm juggling my academic review, work, another unfinished fic, and my daily fangirling. 🥹)

1. once upon a dream

Aleksander had dreams of you long before he even knew you. Maybe it was the stress of this neverending war. Either way, you weren't real anyway... were you?

(3.9k words)

2. coincidence

The Black General finds himself magnetized by the seemingly inconspicuous gardener in the Little Palace. He gets to know you, contemplating life. Just when he thought you were just a strangely wise, young otkazat'sya woman, he finds out why exactly you decided to work in the Little Palace.

(2.5k words)

3. reflection

You are confronted by a certain Shadow Summoner about your motives in bringing the kids to the Little Palace. He realizes that you've loved and lost so deeply, eerily the same as he had. Perhaps that's the reason why he was so drawn to you; he could see his reflection in your eyes. But the more answers the Darkling got, the more questions he had. Unfortunately for you, Aleksander was a patient and persistent man who would stop at nothing to get what he wants.

(4.8k words)

4. haunted

You were no powerless otkazat’sya, Aleksander finds out the hard way. He’s pushed you too far, and he’s left to deal with the aftermath of the new knowledge he half-regrets he gained. On the other hand, you see something bad about this new world that wished you had never seen.

(6.0k words)

5. ?

(tba)

... more chapters?

Synopsis:

"No more magic." You swore to yourself after the madness that you'd spiraled into; the chaos you'd wrecked upon the Multiverse under the influence of the Darkhold. Now, you had destroyed the Darkhold in every universe.

The last universe that had a Darkhold? Safe. Book of the Damned, gone. It was a land with no heroes, gods, or sorcerers... just... normal people and... Grisha? Either way, it was time for your atonement. Your repentance for your mortal sins.

But when you save and bring three orphaned Grisha children to the Little Palace, working as an otkazat'sya gardener to secretly keep an eye on them, it turns out that a certain Shadow Summoner begins to have his eye on you, instead.

taglist: @idohknow @robertthehoover @the-desilittle-bird @pearlstiare

[morganbritton132]

Hi :)) you have no idea how much I enjoy your EMTTS it's literally my only motivation to get anything done when I see an update haha and your writing is so good?! And it's so wholesome?! How dare you make me feel happy things :((

Anywhoo, I was wondering if there'd ever be a moment where Eddie does an interview about fan conspiracy theories or read thirst tweets and what that would look like (I'm kind of getting hard core dylan o'brien vibes here where he's like "these are tame") maybe he's filming a tiktok in a break and he slowly pans around to Steve where he just looks so uncomfortable because !?? That's his husband?! People want him to step on them!?

Concerned and unaware Steve is all I'm saying

But literally you are insane I love what you've created it's so adorable!!

WHY HAVE I NEVER CONSIDERED THIRST TWEETS???!

Thirst tweets are such an obvious next step for him. Of course, someone would ask him to do it and obviously, he’d agree. I do think that Steve would be less uncomfortable with the concept but maybe a little jealous, a little possessive of his husband. Maybe keep your thoughts and your tweets off his hot ass husband, okay?

Eddie is taken.

The video actually starts with a little behind the scenes when Eddie is being mic’ed up. He’s talking to someone off camera but you can only hear his side of the conversation. He asks who he’s talking to if they know what thirst tweets are and then after they respond says, “They’re tweets about how people are desperate for me. For a drink of me, if you know what I mean… Not piss! Actually. Maybe piss. I’ve got some kinky fans.”

There’s a transition with a clapperboard and then Eddie is starting the video proper like, “Hi, I’m Eddie Munson. I play guitar in the heavy metal band, Corroded Coffin, and I’m on Tiktok. I’m gonna be reading some of your thirst tweets today.”

There are some tweets about wanting Eddie to step on them or blow their back out, or spit in their mouth. Someone tweets that they want Eddie to blow them like JFK’s head on a sunny afternoon drive which, “Admittedly, that one is really funny. These are a lot tamer than I was expecting.”

It’s not actually Eddie that posts the Tiktok that reveals that Steve is there too. It’s someone who works on the set and they’re technically just posting a video about the problem with the camera that halted production and how to fix it.

Eddie and Steve are just on the monitor so you can see them and you can kinda hear them. Eddie is teasing Steve about being jealous over some tweets from people they’ll never meet and Steve is pointing out that Eddie could actually meet them at one of his concerts.

Eddie is sitting on top of the table and Steve had been a few steps away from him until Eddie reached out and yanked him over to him by the waistband of his jeans. He smiles up at Steve and says, “Babygirl, you know you’re the only one for me.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve said weakly, “In public.”

“Tell me you don’t believe me.”

“…I believe you,” Steve tells him, tilting Eddie’s head back further and leaning down to kiss him. “I believe you always.”

Eddie kisses him back and then asks, “Wanna go find somewhere and make out like teenagers?”

When they get the camera operating again, the first tweet Eddie reads is about someone wanting to be the middle of a Steddie sandwich, “Hot damn.”

 

Side Note: Eddie also does the one interview where you show them what’s in your bag. He has notebooks, pens, dice, his ADHD medication, Steve’s medications since they’re traveling together, a comb, a book, a toothbrush, and a charger. What he doesn’t have is his inhaler which - “Nope, not in my pocket either. Steve?”

[chaisshitposts]

HIIII ITS ME AGAIN, THE EYELASHES ANON AND Y'ALL BETTER SIT AND READ ALL I ALMOST CRIED WHILE READING THIS BOOK

Anyways, EXTREMELY LONG MOTIVATION/ADVICE (seriously read it all, it will help you so much):

wanted to share something i had to myself for a long time ago, maybe I'll actually make a post about it if I had the time, but in the meantime, I want to give some advice for those struggling with the void/manifesting/shifting/subliminals, basically anything. My mom read a book called "the power of the subconscious mind" by Dr. Joseph Murphy, then she advised me to read it, once I read it, I swear I had a full mental mind shift, like my whole concept changed so easily. And damn to be me if I decided to gatekeep it, y'all deserve it, so here are the most important things I've highlighted in the books, please take a minute and read them over and over, you'll understand so easily

First of all, let's get to the easy part, what is the subconscious and the conscious mind?

Subconscious mind: can be called the right mind, the mind which is basically on autopilot, the mind where everything is possible regardless of time, the mind where you imagine, the mind which acts upon a belief without any problem, the mind where it makes your preferred hand write without reminding yourself which hand is it

Conscious mind: can be called the left mind too, the mind which is logical, the mind who debates if to believe this or that, the mind where you see the 3d currently, the mind where you do the maths by a set of rules, the mind where it will pass the beliefs to the subconscious and let it to decide on it, the gatekeeper

Now that we know what it is, how about we see the important information I've gathered? (+IT HAS MURPHY'S ACTUAL METHOD):

1. "A personal healing will ever be the most convincing evidence of our subconscious power"

this is absolutely the most important thing, Murphy here said that if you have ANY problem that your body or mind or your 3d sees, it's YOU who fixes it, it's you who can change it, because the subconscious mind fashioned it, of course it can heal it's own handiwork

2. "A scientific prayer is the harmonious interaction of the conscious and subconscious levels of mind scientifically directed for a specific purpose"

THIS.RIGHT.HERE. this is literally what made me so open-minded, when you ask your subconscious for something, your conscious mind sometimes doesn't believe in it, why? Because it's logical, and some sort of a stubborn shit- nvm, anyways, your desire will show up once you align the conscious with the subconscious, in short, you'll make it into a belief that even your conscious agrees to, that's why most methods of manifest/shifting/etc etc... has this technique where you get drowsy, why is that? To make the conscious mind drowsy and accepting anything you say, going straight to the subconscious

3. "You need not acquire this power of the subconscious mind, you already posses it"

This is true, that's why some people get confused why as that some can get whatever they want so easily yet they won't, they will follow others and try to be in the state of overconsumption, YOU DON'T NEED ANYTHING ELSE, IT'S ALREADY YOURS???

4. "Whatever you impress on your subconscious mind is expressed on the screen of space as condition, experience and event"

This right here says the most things many is worried about, once you impress the subconscious with whatever you want to, it will materialize in the 3d! It's easy as that??? All you need to do is to impress the conscious and the subconscious

5. "Every thought is a cause, every condition is an effect"

There is no such thing as "impossible" to manifest, NOTHING, Murphy stated even if it's cancer, it can already be cured if you want to, every condition you are in, wether desperation, sadness, pain, etc... these are all an effect that can be easily shunned away if you want to, all you need to do is to fix the idea or thought in your mind, to show up as an desired effect

6. "Change your thoughts, and you change your destiny"

In short, live as though you already posses it, I mean come on, why would u be worried if you know that you ARE LITERALLY THE VOID??? exactly! You are the void and can access it whenever you want, you decide, not your body, you control your body, not you, you control your thoughts, not your mind, your mind will just act upon it like a faithful servant, or better if you say a friend

7. "Your conscious mind is the watchman at the gate, it's chief function is to protect your subconscious from false impressions, choose to believe something that you would want it to happen now, your greatest power is your capacity to choose, you have the power to choose"

This is so important, it talks about the beliefs that are already locked up in subconscious mind, like how to hold a spoon and how to breathe, but when a new idea or thought comes up, sometimes the conscious mind doesn't like new ideas, you have to impress it and act as though it's already a belief, like how you breathe, choose to change and choose to believe it, your subconscious cannot argue with you, only your conscious does, which you need to quite it down

8. "Your subconscious cannot take a joke, it brings everything you to pass in reality"

Saying you can't do something, or feeling desperate, is your call of conscious mind impressing the subconscious that you can't do it, that you can't have it, so change it, no I don't meant to think of toxic positivity, but when you get these ideas, gently drift them away, act as though it's already yours because it's already yours, and Definitely do not think that the suggestions and statements of others will have an impact on you, the only one in power here is you, it's your reality, ignore them

9. "Prior to sleep, turn over a specific request to your subconscious mind and prove it's miracle working power to yourself"

Murphy here stated that before sleeping, your conscious mind is too tired to disagree with anything, so play out a scene, or directly ask your subconscious, you can request it as though you're requesting a friend, and I can assure you this works like magic once you trust it, I used it to wake up at 4 AM sharp, I just turned over, and said to my mind "hey subconscious, would appreciate it if you wake me up sharp at that time, anyways, goodnight and thanks", kid you not I woke up, I tried that yesterday, you can ask your subconscious questions! It knows everything about you, because you already gave access to it

10. "All frustration is due to unfulfilled desires, if you dwell on obstacles, delays, difficulties, your subconscious mind will respond accordingly, in here you are blocking your own good"

This is so true, don't dwell on past mistakes that you haven't got the desires yet, ignore the 3d, let your mind screen your 3d, by mourning over the unfulfilled desires, you are just blocking yourself into getting the results, leave the past, you are so close, so so close

11. "To impress the conscious and letting the subconscious act upon it, imagine the happy ending or solution and feel the thrill of accomplishment, keeping your conscious busy with the thoughts of it's already there, and your subconscious will act in harmony, bringing it to reality"

This is easy, impress your conscious, in short, act it out and maybe live in the end, do whatever you want to, hell, you can even not do anything but just have the belief that you already have it, done

12. "Avoid all effort or mental coercion in requesting your subconscious, get in a sleepy drowsy state, and lull yourself to sleep feeling and knowing you already have it"

This is so close to the command your subconscious mind method, I've also read it that "a mental picture is worth a thousand words", that's why by picturing it and feeling it, it will impress the subconscious greatly

13. "Remember, that a thankful heart is always close to the riches of the universe"

Be happy right now, in your life, just act If you want to, because what you want is already here! Be extremely happy and excited, live your life, be silly, be grateful, soon enough, you'll get what you want, let that soul rest a bit, take a break if you need it, nothing will fly, you can do this

14. "Know that you can remake yourself by giving a new blueprint to your subconscious mind"

THIS, THIS MADE ME CRY- you can change, everyone can, it all needs an idea, an idea to give the subconscious, wanna change and believe that you're a master at manifestation? Done, ask your subconscious, tell it you wanna change, and seal it that you have already changed, it's similar to the psych-k

15. "Easy does it, take it easy, too much effort shows anxiety which blocks your path, easy does it"

Be calm, know that you'll get it one day, know that you ARE going to get it soon, you're a master, you're amazing, you're a wonderful human, you can change, you're amazing, if you ever felt anxious, take a step back and be calm, do something if you want to keep your mind off, because no matter what emotions you have, let's say you cried, this doesn't mean it has negative effect and erased your efforts, it's a normal feeling, stop being too worried, regardless of everything, you already have it, I'm so proud of you💗

16. "You do not have to strive or slave hard, lay back, and let your mind do the work"

Easy as it says, lay back, get lazy if you want to, just request your brain and you'll get it eventually, be happy about life rn! You're so lucky to have made it so far, you'll make it soon, just lay back

17. "Feeling envious or jealous of others are stumbling blocks to the flow of manifestation, feel happy for them, you'll get it too, why stress?"

This is so true, I've heard many feeling annoyed that some can shift or manifest or enter the void at first try while others can't, I used to think like this too, but this is the worst feeling to have, it will make you feel shitty, you deserve everything, and you'll soon get it, be happy for others and the happiness will find it's way back to you

18. "One reason many people simply make end meets is that they condemn the thing, what you condemn takes wings and flies away"

Why would you hate yourself for not being able to enter? You're just paining your brain! You deserve peace, you can do it, take a break, leave it off, be confident, don't hate anything, hate caused a lot of problem in this world, yet it hasn't solved any

19. "Stop trying to get something for nothing, you give mental attention to your goals, and it responds back in harmony"

Some want to do nothing and sit back while complain, this can't be, YOU DON'T NEED TO WORK, Like the only one small tiny thing you need to do at least is to believe, THATS IT, YOU CAN IGNORE ANYTHING ELSE IF YOU WANT TO, just have the belief

20. "Find out what you love to do (techniques to manifest, wake up in void, shift- anything else), then do it, if you don't know your true expression, ask your mind for guidance, and help will come"

There are thousands and thousands of methods, all you need to do is to pick what you feel comfortable with, stick to it and persist with it, or you can make your own! Manifestation is fun, do whatever you want to, your mind will understand whatever you say

21. "Thoughs+feelings=belief"

Can't say anything else, this is the key, fuse feeling of the scenario with the thought, and persist with it, there you have it, it will become a belief in mind ready to materialize

22. "You delay your answer by thinking it will take a long time, or that it's a big huge problem, your subconscious doesn't know the problem, only the solution"

There you go, please please please do not think your manifestation will take long, or it will actually take long, remember, your subconscious cannot take a joke once you impress it

23. "When you open your eyes in the morning, give your brain a task for the day"

Means to give your brain the manifestation you want today, let's say I woke up and chose to ask my subconscious to make me happy today, or intelligent in my exam today, it's all up to you, a new day is like a new task

24. "You form habit patterns in your subconscious mind by repeating a thought and act over and over again until it establishes tracks in the subconscious mind and becomes automatic"

In short, persist with the thought, and it will become a habit, if you think that drinking water will make you have longer hair, and continue to believe it for a while, you'll actually get longer hair by just drinking, it's a habit that is established in your brain, it will act upon it, the time to act is in your hands

25. "To form a new habit, you must be convinced that it is desirable, when your desire to give up some bad habit and start a new habit Is greater than continuing the old habit, you are already 51 percent changed"

Have the desire to be strong, how to make it stronger? Imagine the thrill if you had it right now! I have a trick, to feel like you have it now, I used to imagine a genie telling me my wish, like I genuinely though I have it now🧍

26. "When fear knocks at the door of your mind, let faith and belief in all good things open the door"

Let your good thoughts fight the fear, turn the feat over, do not shake it away, acknowledge it, them throw it, laugh at your fears, it's the best medicine, learn to hold them up to the light

There you go! 26 important messages I found in the book, these are so important I actually cried with it, the book has many many more different methods but I can't cram it here, promise I'll make a post about it if I have the time, in short, I love you all and I know that you'll do it, your future self with all your desires is already nodding at you, grinning and telling you it's already done, see it, feel it, know it, acknowledge it, you'll make it, NOW LETS GO AND MAKE IT, YOU'RE SO AMAZING I'M SO PROUD OF YALL, LOVE YALL 💗

P.s// can I be the 🍓 anon? LOVE U TOO AGAIN 💗

i dunno who else needs to read this but I definitely needed to read it, ty 🍓 anon, such wise words will surely help us all in the long end. ty for sharin' this knowledge with not only me but everyone who else who takes the time to read what ya spent time and effort in writin' out. i really appreciate it, and shhhhhiiiit i might have to give that book a read, it's been floatin' in front of my face for a couple weeks but youve just given me confirmation. guess I needed this wake up call fr 🚶

[venus-haze]

Rip 'Em to Shreds (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: Mickey’s your boyfriend, and he’s not cheating on you. At least, you don't think so, until your roommate plants the seeds of doubt in your head. While sneakily trying to find out the truth for yourself, being in the wrong place at the wrong time lands you as suspect number one in the Ghostface killings at Windsor College.

Note: Gender neutral (mildly fem-coded) reader, but no other descriptions are used. I think Mickey was a fun Ghostface, and I’m a sucker for Timothy Olyphant, so this is the result. I rewatched Scream 2 recently but obviously took creative liberties with some things. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Descriptions of violence, paranoia, and emotional manipulation. Do not interact if you're under 18.

You stared at the blinking cursor on the library computer screen, silently cursing yourself for letting procrastination get the better of you. As much as you loved going to Windsor College, you were beginning to suspect that declaring a Literature major would be your downfall, especially the paper you were supposed to be working on. You already knew what you were going to write about, having notes and a weird-looking outline ready to go. It had just been a matter of sitting down and actually writing the paper that was due the following week.

It didn’t help that Mickey and his friends were exceptionally good at dragging you into more ways to procrastinate a paper that could easily segue into a grad school application. Perhaps the importance of the paper impacted your attitude toward it, not wanting to face the behemoth that would determine your academic future. 

Just as you were halfway through a sentence on the second page of your paper, everything went dark.

“Mickey, c’mon,” you whined.

“Give me some credit, you’ve been hard to track down,” he said, moving his hands from over your eyes.

He pulled up a seat next to you, leaning on the stack of books piled next to the computer. 

“What’re you writing about?”

“Sexuality in 19th century gothic literature—dark corridors, bodice ripping, ghosts, rape, incest, vampires, mad women, all that fun stuff.”

He grinned, tugging on the hem of your shirt. “You had me at bodice ripping.”

“Later, lover boy,” you smiled. “I have to finish this draft before the library closes.”

He tapped on the computer screen. “Dining hall closes in about an hour. Don’t skip dinner for this paper.”

“I hate not having a kitchen,” you lamented. “It makes no sense the dining hall closes at eight when night classes go until nine and the library’s open until ten.”

He gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Next year we’ll get an apartment, then you can cook at two in the morning all you want.”

You couldn’t help the adoring smile that spread across your lips. “You wanna move in together?” 

“Yeah, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good,” he said, his smile matching yours. “Come over whenever you finish that. The roomie went home for the weekend so–”

“So I should plan to be there all weekend?”

“It’s like you can read my mind.”

You laughed. “Shut up before I change mine, jerk.”

“Look, I’ll be late getting in, I have to work on that short film for class, but I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

“Okay, see you later. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he said, giving you a kiss before getting up from the chair. “Don’t skip dinner.”

It wasn’t until you were six pages into your paper and your stomach rumbled that you remembered to glance at the clock in the corner of the computer. A quarter to nine. Damn. You took a chance on one of the vending machines in the library, getting a chocolate bar and a bag of chips to tide you over until you could eat a real meal. 

You made incredible progress on your paper, though. The promise of spending the weekend with your boyfriend was a good motivator to at least bullshit your way through the first draft. It was only a draft, after all, it didn’t need to be perfect. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

By the time you reached the end of page seven and had typed up your bibliography, you felt like your vision was blurring as you tried to proofread what you’d written. Rubbing your eyes, you hoped to shake off some of the screen exhaustion to at least catch any glaring typos. Finally, at about half past nine, you’d printed your paper and had packed up, heading back to your dorm to get what you needed for the weekend.

Usually when you walked around campus at night, there weren’t many people out and about. Windsor College was a sleepy liberal arts school for the most part, which you appreciated. The groups of people ambling around finally clicked when you noticed Greek letters on various t-shirts. You hadn’t been all that interested in getting involved in Greek life, turning down an offer from some of Mickey’s friends to join them at the Delta Lambda Zeta party that night. 

You weren’t surprised, however, to return to your dorm and find your roommate Kim lounging on a beanbag chair, her eyes glued to the small TV on top of her dresser.

“Hey,” she said, barely glancing at you as you walked in.

“Did you go to class today?” you asked as you set your backpack down, unzipping it so you could shove your pajamas and a change of clothes inside.

Kim finally answered when you walked past the TV to get to something in your dresser. “What? Yeah, I went to one this afternoon. I slept through the morning one.”

“Seriously? I woke you up for that before I left.”

“I fell back asleep,” she shrugged. “You going to Mickey’s?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back Sunday night, or Monday morning,” you said.

“Are you seriously bringing your books with you while you’re sucking and fucking at your boyfriend’s for the weekend?”

“First of all, gross. Second, he’s filming tonight. Might as well be productive while I wait.”

“Isn’t this like the fifth time in the past two weeks he’s been ‘filming’? Interesting how that’s happening while all the sororities are having their bullshit pledge mixers.”

“I know the air quotes around filming. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Kim, he just asked me to move in together next year. I don’t think he’s cheating.”

“Maybe he’s just deflecting to keep you off the scent.”

“Of what? He’s been working on a short film that has a lot of night scenes. He even asked me to be in it, and I said no. You watch way too much daytime TV instead of actually going to class.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t come crying to me when you catch him six inches deep in an Omega Beta Zeta or whatever.”

You shook your head while shoving the last of your toiletries into your backpack. “Whatever. Bye.”

One more reason to live with Mickey the following school year, no more dealing with ridiculous roommates. Kim wasn’t that bad in comparison to the horror stories you’d heard about other people’s roommates, but she always had a knack for making an ass of herself. 

As you walked across campus to Mickey’s dorm, you tried to shake Kim’s implications from your mind. Mickey wasn’t cheating on you. You trusted him, and the two of you had so many mutual friends all over campus that if he were, someone would have told you by now. Despite your attempts to reassure yourself, you found your mind racing, and you became the type of partner you swore you’d never become.

If you happened to divert your walk to his dorm to go past where he was supposedly filming, he couldn’t blame you for the coincidence. The clear, beautiful night was perfect for frat parties and leisurely walks in the moonlight. You passed by a few of your friends from your major, stopping to talk with them for a little bit before continuing on your way.

It seemed like in the fifteen minutes or so you’d spent walking around, you saw less and less people. Mickey said he’d been filming near the sorority houses, but you didn’t see him around. Your heart sank to your stomach. Could Kim have been right? No. You wouldn’t jump to that conclusion so quickly. Instead, you kept walking, hoping to find him a little farther up.

In the distance, you could see a girl standing on the front porch of one of the sorority houses, phone in her hand as she looked around frantically. Weird. She retreated inside, and against your better judgment, you decided to get a closer look of what was going on.

You noticed a gleam of silver out of the corner of your eye and stopped in your tracks upon seeing a black-robed figure with a stark white ghost mask that stood out in the darkness, stalking up the brick pathway across the grassy quad. Whoever was beneath the costume didn’t notice you, and you wanted to keep it that way, hiding behind a nearby tree as you watched him approach the Omega Beta Zeta house. 

Clamping your clammy hand over your mouth, you tried to make as little noise as possible so as to not catch Ghostface’s attention. A cold chill raced across your skin. Someone was about to die. There wasn’t enough time to run to a phone and call the police or campus security. It’d take at least ten minutes for either to arrive, and then, it’d be too late. For a moment, you considered running after him, but quickly realized that without a weapon, it wouldn’t do any good. 

You watched helplessly as the masked killer slipped into the open door of the sorority house. Just a few moments later, the door shut as a girl left for you assumed one of the parties that night, but it wasn't the same girl you'd just seen outside. Unsure of what to do, you waited, but it didn't take long for a faint yell to tear through the silence of the night.

Fear froze your limbs, keeping you in place as you heard the terrified screams coming from inside the house. Your heart racing, you swore you were going to pass out until you saw the balcony doors swing open, a girl tumbling onto it, followed closely behind by Ghostface. As soon as the knife pierced her, your body finally went into panic mode, and you started running. 

More screaming and a loud crash came from behind you. Looking back, you saw the splintered balcony and a body splayed on the ground below. Ghostface slipped out from the front door, and seemed to be heading in the same direction you were sprinting off too. Oh shit, had he seen you? Was he following you? 

Tears clouded your vision as you ran, and your shoe caught on a loose brick in the walkway, sending you to the ground. The contents of your backpack crashed and rattled against each other on the impact, and you groaned at your skinned wrists. Still, you pushed yourself off the ground with determination, not bothering to look behind you and see if Ghostface had noticed your fall or was now tailing you.

Slamming the door to Mickey’s room shut, you threw your backpack aside and immediately climbed into his bed, pulling the covers over your head, as if that would shield you from Ghostface. What the fuck was taking Mickey so long? Your breath caught in your throat. He probably had no idea Ghostface was running wild across campus. Burying your face in his pillow, you screamed into it, releasing the pent up anxiety and frustration over not being able to do anything about the situation.

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep, but the sun had already risen when you were woken up by the phone. Shoving the covers off of you, you hastily picked up, almost expecting to hear Ghostface’s unsettling voice on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

Relief swept over you when you heard Mickey’s voice instead of the one you were dreading. “Hey baby, it’s me—“

“Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m at the police station. Everything’s—well, everything’s not fine. I am, though. I’ll explain later. Have you been in my room all night?”

You hesitated before answering with a weak, “Yeah.”

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. “Alright, I’m leaving now. I should be there in like, 15 minutes.”

“Okay, see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The other end of the line went dead. You looked at your discarded backpack on the floor, and decided to at least freshen up and change out of yesterday’s clothes before Mickey returned. Each article of clothing that fell to the floor felt like evidence piling up. You hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but the previous night's events, your complacency, made your limbs feel abnormally heavy as you changed into fresh clothes. Before you knew it, you were face to face with your boyfriend, who looked almost shocked when he saw you.

“What happened to you? Your wrists–” He gently tilted your head up, inspecting your chin. “You’re all scraped up.”

“I tripped and fell,” you said.

“You’re sure that’s all that happened?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You know Cici Cooper, from my film studies class?”

You nodded. You knew Cici. You also knew she was an Omega Beta Zeta. 

“Some Ghostface wannabe stabbed her and pushed her off the balcony of the Omega Beta Zeta house, and then showed up at the Delta Lambda Zeta party.”

“Cici’s dead?”

You sat on the edge of his bed, your head in your hands as you let out a pained whine.

“Baby, what’s going on?” he asked, putting his arm around you as he sat by your side.

“I saw him.”

“Saw who?”

“I saw Ghostface. I saw him run into the Omega Beta Zeta house, but when I heard screaming I–I got so scared I just came back here. That’s when I fell.”

“Y/N, why didn’t you call the police?”

“I was terrified, Mickey! I wasn’t thinking straight and I—if I call now they’re gonna think I had something to do with it. Isn’t that what Randy says? Everyone’s a suspect! Oh my god, they’ll think it was me.”

“No one will think that.”

His paltry reassurance was no match for your word vomit, because before you could help it, you blurted out, “Are you cheating on me?”

“What? No! Why would you even think that?”

“Why did the police question you if you were shooting your movie?”

He sighed. “Derek was running late to the Delta party. He asked me to stop in and check on Sidney. I was at the party for maybe ten minutes before the police found Cici’s body. After Ghostface showed up, they questioned everyone who even looked at the place that night.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Kim—“

“Is about to be on academic probation because she watches soap operas instead of going to class.”

“Yeah. Maybe I should go ahead and call the police, let them know what I saw.”

“No, like you said before, with the timing and everyone being on edge, I don’t think it’d be a great look right now.”

“So what do I do?”

“Let’s just keep this between us, okay? No more secrets unless it’s with each other.”

“Okay,” you agreed. 

He took your hand, turning it over to look at the damage to it. “Jesus, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I should probably go to the student health center, huh?”

“I’ll walk you.”

“You probably haven’t slept. I’ll be fine.”

“Just let me do this. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

You smiled, giving him a kiss that he quickly escalated, laying you back on his bed. Making out with Mickey was nice, it was normal. For a few minutes, you let yourself forget about Ghostface as you parted your lips for him, letting him slip his tongue inside your mouth. When his hands gripped your wrists to pin you to the bed, however, you hissed in pain, and he quickly released them.

“Sorry, sorry. I forgot,” he whispered, pressing apologetic kisses to your lips. “We should get going.”

Reluctantly, you agreed, remembering that his roommate wouldn’t be back any time soon, and you had the rest of the weekend to yourselves after you went to the health center, and got something to eat, too, since you were thinking about it.

Mickey kept his arm securely around you as the two of you made your way across campus. You spotted Sidney, Randy, and Hallie speaking among themselves at one of the tables outside, and Mickey made a bit of a detour to go talk to them. You couldn’t exactly read their expressions when they saw you until Randy spoke up.

“You sure missed a lot last night. Convenient,” he said, not bothering to hide his accusatory tone.

“Cut it out. I already told you guys they were working on a paper,” Mickey said, holding you closer to his side. “You can check the computer logs in the library.”

“Wh-What happened to your arms?” Sidney asked, her eyes fixed on your scraped wrists. For a split second, you thought it was out of concern, but then quickly realized the suspicion in her voice.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened, but I don’t know anything,” you said. “After I finished my paper, I went back to my dorm and then I tripped and fell on the way to Mickey’s. There were plenty of people who saw me last night.”

Hallie gave you a tense smile. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m taking them to the student health center so nothing gets infected. We’ll see you guys later,” Mickey said.

The varying looks of distrust on the group's faces made you want to cry. As you and Mickey resumed your walk to the dining hall, your brain worked overtime to come up with worst case scenarios, as if somehow the Ghostface killings could be pinned onto you, even the ones in town despite you being with your friends during that whole incident.

“They all think it’s me.”

Mickey’s silence was more than enough of an answer to make you panic.

Stopping in your tracks, you grabbed his arm. “You don’t think it’s me, do you?” 

“I know it’s not you,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “They’re just on edge after what happened last night, especially after Derek went back into the Delta Lambda Zeta house after Sidney saw Ghostface—“

“Oh my god, is he okay?”

Mickey shrugged. “He got cut, but not fatally. Not the best look on his part.”

“What? No way, Derek would never—Seriously?”

“C’mon, Y/N, why would he go back in there?”

“So what, since he happened to get cut and I happened to trip, now they’re all thinking Derek and I have been secretly scheming to chop everyone up? Where is he? Maybe I can talk to him and—“

“Why don’t we just get to the health center before you run across campus to find the other top suspect in this whole thing.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

He nodded. “I’ll drop it. I’m sorry, baby.”

The rest of the walk to the student health center was silent, though Mickey kept his arm wrapped around you. 

“If you don’t have anyone else, you know you have me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I know,” you said, though you didn’t exactly believe yourself.

[xalicitie]

Take Care of Me — Paul Maud’dib Atreides (smut)

Leila is Chani’s trusted crony. While Chani and Paul share a passionate and intimate love for one another, as Paul embraces his role as Lisan Al-Gaib, Chani encounters detrimental trouble in dealing with his new persona and thus turns to Leila as a channel for her frustration. Leila has been Paul’s own medic for a day, and returning to his chambers to treat an opened wound, she takes her frustration out on him. And yet, she finds out he’s frustrated, too.

The full story will be posted on AO3–HAHA. Just kidding. I have no fucking motivation anymore and it’s killing me. If I manage to fill in a few scenes on this story, then it will make it onto AO3. The full story starts a few scenes ahead of this.

Also, this is based on the movies. I’m reading book 1 now, but I wrote this pretty early on. A lot of the stuff probably won’t make sense in the Dune world. If u have a problem suck my cokkk

Isn’t it obvious I like medic smut scenarios

Also if u want the ending of this tell me! idk if the Dune fandom will welcome me here🙏

I enter Paul Maud’Dib Atreides’ chambers for my second round—and yet within my circumstance, and the unfortunate display of events that have fallen into place, instead of knocking, I barge through.

I find Usul confined to his bed, blood gushing through his white garment.

“Leave.” I pronounce with an impatient tongue. The nurses at Usul’s side take a look at me, and with silent agreement, rush off and through his grand doors.

Usul dons a blank countenance, slightly embellished with the graze of concern. More prominently, however, I can see physical pain in his eyes. I try not to let him uncover that this deeply perturbs me.

“Now why in the fucking world would you do this to yourself?” I demand. My footsteps boom through the lifeless room, my lips stiff with inhibition.

He sits there for a second, gaping up at me slightly, plainly confused.

“Excuse me?”

I know this is the Messiah. And I understand that he could have me thrown off the planet for speaking to him in such a wretched way. But with this, I uncover in myself boiling rebellion.

“Damnit, don’t gape at me.” I snarl a bit. I can feel my indignation running wild, through a pounding chest and through my mindless mouth.

“Sit up.”

He does, silently. I’m grateful.

“Take this off.”

I gesture to his shirt. He does this, too.

I come around with a cloth. Staring down at him, I survey the image—he’s bleeding out. Quickly, at that. He messed up his stomach wound considerably. His toned stomach is scaled with blood, a red, filthy gash on his left side. My heartbeat chases a pounding rhythm. Holy shit: he might fucking die.

My inhibition snaps.

“Nevermind. Screw it. Lay against the headrest. Be careful, you damned fool.”

Usul groans as he backs into his bed. “I was told I was getting nursed, not chastised.” He seethes through a set of clamped teeth.

“Yes, well, you managed to ruin your binding. I can see it took an incredible amount of effort, too.” I climb into the bed. Barring off any uncomfortable undertones, I crawl towards him.

“Yet I also don’t need a fucking coach right now, Leila. I need a medic.” I feel his hot breath lingering in the air near; I snap my face towards his. His gaze is unwavering, and I can see his studying gaze, his brow twitching calculatingly.

I’m a frazzled mess—I can tell as my eyes twitch that’s it’s painfully obvious.

I flinch suddenly. My gaze wanders, and I find warm, masculine digits consuming mine.

“You need to stop shaking, damnit.”

His quiet yet pregnant words resonate with me and into my weak, distressed body. I fall still. With his palm against my aching fingers, I find the quickest respite.

“Focus. I will not die.”

“Did you prophesize that, hm?”

“No. I trust you.”

My eyes flutter shut. I inhale a tremulous breath. He’s right—I can’t work in my state right now. But if I want to do as much as merely stopping the bleeding, I’ll have to shift my attitude. Swiftly.

My mind doesn’t dare wander towards Chani. It would be custom for me to turn to her for strength, but the mental image of her mainly brings about animosity. Instead, I focus here, now—on Usul’s palpable heat, in his hands and in the heavy scent of his presence.

I take a moment. A moment, quietly finding my peace and my lost, inner instinct.

After many prolonged breaths, I sit up.

And I get to work.

“This is going to hurt. You might want to lay down.”

Silently, he obeys me.

My skills succumb to my mind. I work intensely—I dab the cloth into his thick blood, which stains his alabaster skin. As I work, a few meager thoughts roam my mind: I doubt no Fremen wouldn’t pay their wage for a touch of his blood, I ponder. Being so intimate with his mortality brings everything into scope; Usul has a power only rivaled by Emperors, Kings, and Queens, however any hit can be fatal. Without Paul, the Fremen lose their symbol and their incentive. But, well, no pressure.

On the other hand, I’m notably grateful for his compliance. And I’m even further impressed with his determination too, in refusing to speak a single word nor a mere sound. As I uncover my own tenets, and I come out of Chani’s shadow, I’m starting to realize.. my favor isn’t entirely for Chani.

A bowl of water arrives with a nurse. Thanking her and sending her off, I near Usul again.

“Does this have to do with Chani?”

As I begin to clean his wound, I talk pointedly, inquiry woven into my tone.

His voice comes eventually, but he groans when I pour the sacred water directly onto his gash. His bony fingers twitch and attach onto the mattress, grasping lightly.

“-Did she tell you anything?” He utters begrudgingly.

“Mhm.” I answer.

“Is that why you’re in a mood?”

Water pools onto his stomach, which is hard with muscles, rising and falling with his trained breaths. It slips onto the bed, wetting it gradually by the second.

“I questioned you first.” I demand.

I can smell his eyes rolling a mile away.

“Yes. I attempted .. reaching her. She’s more stubborn now than I recall.”

I nod involuntarily. Stubborn was a nice word.

“So, you’re not her minion anymore?”

My focused brows shoot up. I drive my mien into his.

“Do you want me to screw up your wound?”

“Leila.”

Trickles and little indications of nerves meander through my body. I realize I’ve paused my work, and with a surge of purpose, I return.

“I don’t dislike the change. You’re finding yourself.”

I bite my gum. “So I have been a nobody until now?”

“No.”

I draw a cloth, lathered with soap around the borders of his wound. He mumbles something, maybe a curse, before speaking again.

“It’s gratifying to see you.. not so impressionable.”

I really do hate being timid and gullible sometimes. Thus, the reason Chani’s been such a magnetic force of my life. She has stiff, ardent opinions, and a defensive stance. Her caution keeps her ready to strike.

But I know this persona is who I am. Even now, with a callous expression discoloring my soft features, I understand—this isn’t me.

“Well, I can’t take care of you forever.” I speak with disdain, brushing away my probing thoughts. “Whatever you do in your pastime isn’t my business, but if you manage to break through this dressing a second time, for whatever reason, I’m getting another nurse to manage your carelessness.”

I hear a smile. “Yes ma’am.”

“Do you know what it is to be a nurse?” I begin. “No. You fight, and you thrust your blade at any living thing. We clean up. We witness the rubble of war, and we tend to the malignant products of violence.” I set the now empty bowl aside, my eyes cast far into the monochrome walls.

“You can’t afford to be careless. You’re the Messiah, Usul. And I surely cannot, either. I mess up, and you’re blood’s on my hands.” I pause. “In this very moment, we’re linked—so I just want you to do your part, as I do mine.”

“So I’m the source of your ire.”

My face scrunches into a frazzled frustration. “Did you hear anything I just said?

“I won’t mess up again. You can trust me.” I rest there, sitting above his body as my fingers dress his wound with ointment, a stone-cold countenance on my face. “What bothers you?”

I bite my gum grimly. “Don’t provoke me.”

“But if you keep your anger confined, what else might invoke it?”

“This isn’t the time for this, Usul.”

“-Paul.”

My fingers halt, propped against his warm skin as I meet eyes with Usul.

“What?”

“I would rather you call me Paul.”

I search my mind. Does anyone other than Chani call him Paul? His mother, of course. And Gurney, obviously. But the list drags to a stop there.

Is he marking the enhancement of our friendship? Maybe he’s egging me into transferring information. Altogether, it puzzles me.

Alas, I disregard my selfish thoughts. It’s foolish of me to pleasure myself with the thought that I might mean something special to the Lisan Al-Gaib. Sighing, I rise from my position.

“Okay, Paul.”

I turn to the table at my flank, taking up a pristine, fresh sheet of dressing into my hands. “Sit up against the headrest. ..Please.”

He does so without complaint once again. I approach him apprehensively. The silence is disarming. I can feel his gaze on me like a cool, unshakeable breeze.

As I begin my work, I succumb to his request.

“Counsel-Member Sarat has been my patient for the past week.” I swallow my shame while my fingers press into Paul’s stomach, attaching the covering gingerly. “He died today. Of infection. And .. and the counsel thought it fit for me to be demoted from my position as head nurse since, inherently, the war has ‘dulled my senses and muted my skills’. They’re rather unyielding in their blame, which they’ve..” I laugh dully. “..brutally pinned on me.”

“They’ve stripped you of your title as head nurse?”

“Mhm.” I confirm gently. It feels that, if I speak a decibel louder, I might crackle and fall apart.

“Give me an hour; I’ll give you your title back.”

“..Paul, it is not your place.” I tell him with warning eyes.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“I-“ I grunt out an intermittent groan. “Do you really care if I’m head nurse or not?”

“You’re the best in your field. I’ve seen it, I witness it this very moment. Ignorance runs through the council, it’s rather obvious.”

If my complexion warrants it, I blush. I haven’t heard kudos of such high acclaim of late, or.. ever, perhaps. Hardness and disdain may have encrusted my heart, but his words seem to chip at the layers with ease.

“Just, don’t act yet.” I say carefully. “Today has been enough for me. A prolonged night of sleep might just be enough to relieve me of this stress.”

I apply one last morsel of pressure into his side with my palm, scrutinizing the dressing. Immediately, the strings of responsibility lay off of my shoulders. He’s alive, breathing, and his stomach is marked by white linen rather than the thick, maroon tints of his precious blood.

“And you. Our deal?”

I look for understanding in his face, yet I’m met with gentle confusion. I roll my eyes.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t fuck your wounds up, and I don’t have to stress about you.”

“Mmm, because you care so much about me?”

He says this blandly and with a husky tone. I chuckle, falling cocky. “You know what I mean-“

Something warming creeps up my waist. My eyes drawn to the sensation, I look down to see Paul’s hand at my side.

I lift my head. I’m met with his eyes—blue and slitted, brushed by the shadow of the dim light at the end of the spacious room. The cold throb of the air suddenly becomes terribly tangible.

Suddenly, I know. As he holds my gaze, as he holds me, I know. Every stalking thought of my intuition was valid—the prickles of tension were never figments of my wild imagination. That look, that look of his is polluted with infatuation.

I press myself away from him. “What is—what are you-”

“Just stop, Leila.”

His fingers dig a little into my skin. Suddenly, my walls are up. My shoulders surrender to stiffness; my breath refuses to release.

He leans in closer, stealing meager inches of the mattress.

“Isn’t it easier this way? We’re both stressed out of our minds, it hurts, I know. I can relieve you of your pressure, Leila-“

“You jest!”

I push him away with incredulous palms. This shocks me just as much as it does him.

“Chani. We both care for her—is this what you imply?! For two of her loved ones to betray her in one night?-”

“What is there to betray?!”

With a quickness I’m unable to fathom, we are then a mess of limbs; his legs have crawled forth and are propped onto mine, his arm bridging the distance, deft fingers bordering the brink of my neck and shoulder.

Not a wisp of breath sprouts from inside of me.

“She is frustrating. I know you’re angry with her, with how you so unabashedly project. You’re awfully transparent.”

“You are a cocky bastard.”

“Mm.”

Paul tilts his head, as if saying ‘see?’. I stifle a curse from spilling out, off my flaring tongue.

Warmth spreads like wildfire at my hip, as his left hand claims its spot. The thumb of his right ventures over my jaw and to my cheek, while his remaining digits curl around my neck. I repress a shudder, as well as a susurration at my mouth—one that would surely betray me.

“Don’t you see?” He says it so low, his voice crackles in its sudden baritone as he speaks. “Let me take care of you.”

My eyes flutter shut. My mouth gapes slightly; he leans closer and closer.

“You are Chani’s. Chani is yours.”

“You know that's not true.”

My breath trembles audibly. I can hear it in the thick air.

“Why don’t you act on your own desires?”

“How arrogant do you have to be? I do not desire one morsel of you-“

“Ah, I’ve yet to see you pull back.”

My lashes flutter, opening my eyes so that I can witness a peek of the image in front of me: he breathes me in like oxygen, as if he might suffocate any moment. I can see two slits of blue, their light dawning on me and onto the amalgamation of our intimate shadows.

“I'm afraid I know you better than you know yourself, Leila..”

I breathe in, desperately attempting to sort out my visceral thoughts. Maybe a mere moment of preparation, maybe just a little time ..

Yet he denies it. I breathe in, and Paul Atreides has ensnared me with his lips.

The power he has over me is, in itself, terrifying. I mold underneath his touch, every contiguity setting my skin aflame. Paul kisses like a savage—as we sway, his tongue slithering hungrily between my lips, our mouths a battle of uncertainty and voracity, I see him in a different light. The stiff, self-controlled, solemn boy stripped of his armor is revealed to be an animal, just like any other man.

He must be stressed out of his mind. His movement is desperate, his lips feral. His body snakes over me as my hands brush against his skin—each finger passing a rib one by one, drinking in his warmth. Skin of the Messiah.

Even if I refuse to merge with the Fremens’ united belief, I understand well, with awe and terror, Paul’s title and his power. It chills me, through flesh and into the cavern of my soul: I contact the armor of a royally begotten warrior, and I am all the same groped by the hands of a mighty killer.

Chani. Chani. Chani.

I miserably try to redirect my focus. It shocks me how insanely hungry I am for him—it never occurred to me that I had affection for Paul, but my desire flows copiously. I think back on Chani. I attempt to meditate and recall their love and what strife I’m paving.

And yet my body betrays me, These thoughts, even further, backfire.

I am angry. I am tired, and worn from Chani’s groping. The circumstance is rousing something in me—a beast of a feeling, a pit of animosity. Without caution, I shove Paul into the headrest.

“Stay still.”

I climb onto him. I look down, and find his glimmering blue eyes consumed with startled shock.

“Don’t you care about your wounds at all?”

I kiss him. I trap him against the head of the mattress, letting my hands run wild. With his waist bearing my weight, I begin to steadily ride his crotch.

Paul isn’t mine. In a perverse way, this motivates me further—he could be using me as a channel of relief or as a source for his irate, and he might even be infatuated with me. Yet once I’m immersed in my drive, and I’ve established a tantalizing pace to bounce over and over on his hard-on, I realize: I don’t really care. I want this, and I’ll take my goddamn share.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Hi!

I've recently finished my first draft and I'm ready to get to work on the second.

My autism makes it hard to use those "tips and tricks" people usually have, so I thought about working out a step by step for myself instead, but I have no clue where to start?

Hope you can help or point me in the right direction, as I'm at my wits end.

I don't have any grand secrets, unfortunately. I've attempted to read many, many books on editing, trying to discover the secret that I appear to be missing, but none of them really helps. Note the big changes first, they say. Fix the little things after.

But when everything seems like it's a mess, I don't know how to distinguish between big fixes and small ones. In the end, everything needs to be fixed, and I just have to slog through. However, there are some things that work for me, as frustratingly slow as they can be:

First make sure you're ready to edit.

Sometimes you have to trunk that book for a lot longer than you think. You have to give your brain a long enough break from it in order for new ideas to be formed. Put it away, as long as you can, and give your brain a break. Coming to your story fresh is the best way to start.

This doesn't sound like it works, and believe me, the temptation to dive right back into the book after a week or so is high, but give yourself decent break. Read some books, watch some movies. Shake up those weary creative drives in your brain for up to a month or more before you take another crack at it.

(If you're not tackling a large product, you can wait for a shorter period of time, probably. The longer the book or novel, the more of a rest you should have. If you're writing a fanfic chapter by chapter, the temptation to post immediately is high. Don't do it! Let it rest for a couple of days before reviewing it. You'll thank yourself later.)

Have an outline.

If you didn't start with an outline while drafting, laying out your plot where you can see it will really help you figure out what threads need strengthening. My favorite technique is flashcards and sticky notes that have a short summary of the chapter or scene. Both can be easily rearranged, removed, or shuffled about.

If you have a multiple POVs, color-coding your chapters can help you lay out how much progress each character has made and what areas of the story might need shoring up.

Another thing that can be of help is reworking character sheets or notes. I've been struggling with a particular character who I adore, but who's motivation I've been having trouble nailing. For this draft, I've been able to figure out what the thorn in their side was and write a much stronger story for them as a result.

Slog through from the beginning.

Yes, some people can dive right into those problem areas. Boo to those people, I say. Boo. For me, the only thing that works is to start from the beginning and work through each chapter at a time. Yes, this does involve getting stuck on how to fix things. There is a lot of dramatic lying on floors and pestering my completely bewildered cat when I hit a wall.

But starting at the beginning allows me to see where I need to slot in elements I only started to figure out later in the book. It allows me to weave in foreshadowing and pick up subplots at the right places, rather than throwing them in when I think of them. This method may mean you'll have redraft a few times, and yes, I have to start from the beginning each time. But it does work, even if it takes time.

Just don't ask how many drafts I've done of this damn book I'm working on.

[swordfright]

What do you think is your most controversial dsmp take?

I got this ask a while ago and I've been wracking my brains trying to come up with something, but honestly...I don't think I really have many hot takes? At least, not ones that I'd consider controversial. Most of my controversial takes are about fanon/how the fandom interacts with the source material, which I assume isn't what you're looking for (but BOY DO I HAVE A LOT OF THOSE.) I also have likes and dislikes when it comes to duos and shipping stuff, but that's subjective obviously and more opinion than lore interpretation.

I guess if you put a gun to my head, I might say these are my most controversial Actual Lore Takes, but they're not all that interesting imo:

The experiments in the revival lab happened AFTER c!Dream's incarceration, not before it. My understanding is that most people interpret that sequence as occurring prior to the incarceration because...why would c!Dream let himself be locked up, relying on his knowledge of the book to be his life insurance, if he hadn't tested the damn thing out yet?! This logic tracks, but I think you could also flip it to argue the opposite: that he also could have conceivably waited to fully test the book until after escaping. During the run-up to the Disc Finale, c!Dream was incredibly busy with the fallout from Dethronement + Exile + Manburg related stuff etc, as well as busy preparing for the confrontation with c!Clingys, plus arranging the staged finale with Punz. The guy was busy as hell and he was also like...still kinda in the midst of a manic episode. Also, keep in mind that while the book was his life insurance for the finale and its immediate aftermath, he had no idea that c!Sam was going to betray him. Considering all that, I don't think it's inconceivable that c!Dream may not have had time to thoroughly test the limits of the revive book beforehand, and he likely didn't realize quite how vital his knowledge of revival would become during his incarceration period. So yeah. I'm open to either interpretation, but I am partial to the possibility that the Vikk and Lazar necromancy montage happened after the prison era. And the exact date/location of the lab are never specified either, which makes me even more open to the post-prison necromancy option. Not a hill I'd be willing to die on, but a hill I like to sit on and admire the view from.

End of Las Nevadas is the weakest stream of the Las Nevadas series. I found it narratively unsatisfying, and not in a clever way. I don't hate that stream, I think it had some really interesting moments, but overall I'd say its messaging was convoluted and the tension was pretty poorly mismanaged. I'd be willing to go on about this if you want, but I think a lot of other folks have probably already articulated it better than I can. Oh, I'll add that I also have complicated thoughts about c!Slime as a character. Don't hate him, don't love him...but I am puzzled about the role he was presumably meant to play in the story vs. the role he actually ends up playing. I could go on about this in detail but it's late and I'm sleepy.

c!Quackity has very simple goals and motives, but his pursuit of those goals is oftentimes way more convoluted than necessary, which ends up making him read as a more complex and dynamic character than he really is (I like this btw!) Another way to put it would be that Q is not a terribly complex character in terms of motivations and ambitions (dr3 has rly good meta on this btw), but he does tend to needlessly complicate his own life and the lives of the people around him in pursuit of simple goals. I think one of his big failings is that he sees violence as an easy solution to his problems but in reality it just creates more problems for him. It's like he keeps failing some sort of foresight check, over and over again. Take the formation of Las Nevadas, for instance. Most of the country's members were intimidated/threatened into joining, not because they're people Q particularly wants to hang around with, but because they're people Q sees as either strong (i.e. they are capable of contributing to LN) or directionless (i.e. they're in need of an owner a leader.) Quackity doesn't really forge alliances, he just...buys people, basically? And then he's shocked when this backfires. His relationship with Purpled is the most obvious example of this, but also LN as a whole: in LN5 (?), Quackity's angry and offended and hurt that only a tiny handful of people show up to the opening ceremony, even though by all accounts the reason the turn-out isn't bigger is because the server has by this point become a chaotic and violent place where anything can happen to anyone for any reason and most inhabitants feel safer sticking to their own turf...and that atmosphere of chaos and violence is something Q has ostensibly contributed to, even before Pandora. c!Quackity creates a country that no one is truly loyal to, inhabited by people who are closer to employees than allies...and then his solution, when he realizes nobody really gives a shit, isn't to try recruiting people in a more equitable way, it's to bioengineer a slime army. That is insane. That is an insane way to solve your problems. In no way is bioengineering a slime army a normal or well-adjusted solution to any conceivable problem. This is what I mean when I say he's a relatively uncomplicated character who complicates everything - he's constantly jumping through hoops of fire to avoid changing his behavior and taking any kind of accountability whatsoever.

I have tons more takes but they're mostly about silly subjective stuff and/or fanon, so I'll leave that for another day if anyone's interested.

[its-gettin-weird]

“There’s only one thing I desire right now. Peace for that mother and her child for the rest of their lives!”

Ok so I’ve had this idea in my head for a while, where all the people who possess / have possessed witch factors in Re:Zero are magical girls (+ magical boys? Just gonna call them all ‘magi’ to make it easier), because the witch factors parallel the most with becoming a magical girl in pmmm for me. I’m also gonna include Emilia and Subaru as magis, because Subaru’s Return by death may also be an authority and to explain his time traveling (also for the obvious Homura x Madoka parallel). This idea came to me when I found Iqian35’s post on reddit Birth of Authority from Wish, where they say “My motivation for this series primarily stems from the 2018 Q&A on Echidna's Book of Wisdom, where Tappei said " the authority itself has a tendency to reflect the cravings of the holder of the witch gene". So l thought, why not look into each and every one of the Witch Factor holders and see how their personalities and wishes are reflected in their authorities?” and reading it reminded me so damn much about pmmm’s magical girl system that I was inspired to design magis + witches for the series! I might even turn this into a fully fledged au!

Now I wanna talk a little bit about my thoughts behind Geuse’s magi design and what his powers + wish would be. I designed him with the intention of looking like a templar knight like from the crusades. What with the witch cult’s parallels to Christianity / Catholicism as well as in Geuse’s design itself, I thought it would be fitting. I also made him a kind of knight because I wanted it to call back to Sayaka in a way, considering the similarities behind their motives of wanting to help those they love / wanting to protect people / sacrificing their souls, ect. (these two are so similar to me I could make a whole ass venn diagram). Iqian35 made the observation that his ‘wish’ would probably be a wish of love + his goal in life was to protect Emilia and Fortuna and to live for love, so that’s probably what his wish that would make him a magi would be, specifically to have the power to be able to protect Emilia and Fortuna. This would make his magical power manifest as the unseen hands, like in the show proper. I gave him a mace as his weapon because it was used in the time period of the crusades and because it’s a bludgeoning weapon meant to break armor, which I think fits well with his fighting style and the strength of the unseen hands. He’d still be able to use earth magic as a magi, as well as possessing bodies / having his fingers as long as his soul gem is intact. Because he’s an earth spirit I made his sg yellow / gold, yellow being the color for earth spirits / earth magic in re zero, and made it a prevalent color in his outfit. Red is a frequent color in his outfit too because the star Betelgeuse is a red giant and it’s used in his og design.

That’s all the input I have to give for now, sorry for the wall of text lol :) more designs are on the way but it may be a minute because I have college and other stuff to worry about, but I will get them done eventually don’t you worry! The brainrot is far too strong lol XD I have too many ideas for this possible au / crossover!

TLDR, I made Madoka Magica x Re:Zero crossover designs, and this is the first one.

[quixoticanarchy]

Ok I read a book on degrowth by jason hickel (Less is More) and I still need to read more but. preliminary thoughts:

I appreciate the quantification of by how much current resource and energy consumption overshoots sustainable limits, and the excoriation of the absurd demand for compound growth on a finite planet; and the book has a decent history of capitalism and the violence and dispossession it rests upon. There is some similar quantification for how proposed degrowth measures would affect resource consumption, though (understandably) piecemeal, so it’s unclear what the full impact of these measures would be vis-à-vis climate meltdown and ecological tipping points, or on what timeline the degrowth transition would have to occur.

Degrowth measures - resource use caps, a shorter work week, basic income, healthcare, income caps, re-localizing supply chains, killing planned obsolescence, moving to a shared rather than personal ownership model for things like vehicles, etc. - are broadly “good” and have been promoted and supported outside of a specifically degrowth context already, which speaks to their appeal but also their pitfalls. Implementing all these measures and more has to carry the explicit intention of improving human and ecological welfare, GDP be damned, and has to be tied explicitly to a commitment to reducing growth and capping profits; otherwise, the trap I see is attempting to enact some of these measures while keeping the capitalist edifice intact - which, as Hickel acknowledges, would spur a new ‘fix’ in which some other domain or market is forced open for exploitation so that growth can continue.

This is obviously at odds with degrowth and it isn’t anything degrowth advocates don’t know, but it seems naïve to envision states whose existence and operation are so inextricable from capitalism being capable of doing such reforms to the degree and with the ideological shift necessary. It would be suicide. Which I’d welcome, but just saying we need to tackle corruption and have more real democracy so that governments can serve people’s actual needs does not convince me that these policies could be sincerely and radically adopted by any state that exists today.

The book seems to walk a line between “degrowth is very radical since it would require ditching the demand for economic growth and probably most of the profit motive itself, which is a huge mindset and ideological shift - if not to socialism per se then to post-capitalism” and also “degrowth isn’t that radical/outlandish since what it takes is all these commonsense reforms that people already want anyway”. Sometimes the degrowth policy package sounds a lot like just welfare-state capitalism, except with resource and energy consumption dramatically scaled back, and without the economic growth imperative. So… no longer capitalism as such, but still using many of the master’s tools to retrofit the master’s house.

In principle, a world exists in which wealthy countries consume far less and the rest of the world is freer and not (or at least less) exploited. In principle, degrowth measures could help us realize that world. Saying it’s not a revolutionary process might keep some readers from being scared off, etc, but I’m left wondering then: where does the force come from to make these changes happen? Are wealthy countries and individuals and corporations going to just agree to resource caps and wealth caps and redistribution? The argument that degrowth is a kind of decolonization and requires the demise of the colonial and capitalist view of people and nature is compelling to me, but that seems to conflict with the idea that degrowth can be implemented as a set of reforms to the systems that exist now, without the messiness of revolution and without somehow being co-opted by capitalism or packaged as ‘green growth’ (which Hickel makes clear would be bad and is bullshit). The ideological shift and end to growth is the big ask here - without that, the reforms are just rearranging deck chairs on the titanic, or maybe on the lawn of the master’s house, if you will.

[danoberry]

★ sugar baby (burt fabelman x reader) SMUT 18+

description: you notice an attractive older man taking a seat close to you on a park bench. you didn’t know he would end up spending so much to make you happy when you finally talked to him.

content: 18+ SMUT!!!, age gap (reader is of age obviously), burt is a sugar daddy, burt is also very much a dad, takes place after the movie “the fabelmans,” lots of use of “bunny” and pet names, cunnilingus, overstim, fingering, cum play if you squint

pronouns: you/yours (female reader)

wc: 3.5k

afab genitalia

A/N :

i wanted to post something on christmas for everyone but sadly i just did not have the motivation. so i present this instead (thank you to everyone in the discord server who encouraged this fic- it’s one of my favs now). happy new year’s eve!

Burt Fabelman takes a seat not a terribly great distance from you. He reads a book- a manual of some sort- while his fingers tip-tap on his thigh. You watch the man with intent. He must be approaching his 40s, you think. The minute stubble growing on his chin and pudginess on his stomach are pure indicators. There’s something about him that’s attracting you. The way he’s carrying himself, the way he’s handling everything he has in his clutch with care. Your cheeks started to heat up just looking at the man. You would’ve never expected him to be a sugar daddy.

I’m probably half his age! Who am I kidding? You think to yourself, taking your eyes off of him and looking down at the concrete. A homewrecker is never something you’d want to be labeled. You drown in thought as your eyes stare a hole into the ground, until a voice startles you, almost out of your seat.

“Hon?” 

You look up, and there he is. The man you were just fixated on, right in front of you. Your face flushes a deep red. You can feel the heat in your neck. 

“Oh- hi!” You say with innocence, like you weren’t just staring at him like he was eye candy.

“I uh… saw you staring a second ago. Are you alright?”

You smile, incredibly nervous. “Yeah! Hah… I’ve always had a staring problem.” You watch him slightly cock his eyebrow. 

“I mean- I didn’t mean to stare so much… I’m sorry.” You blush deeper, heating up.

“Oh honey, it’s alright! I was just making sure you were doing okay! You seemed a bit… disheveled.” He sits down right next to you, as you curse yourself internally. Your legs slowly turn to jello.

“Nope! I’m doing pretty good…” 

“I’m glad to hear that… I have a few kids who I can usually tell when they’re not alright. Of course they’re with their mom for the season… I guess I was trying to find someone to take care of when they’re away!” He laughs. 

You sit there with your legs crossed and your hands in your lap. Not necessarily uncomfortable from the man himself, but from the fact he was making you feel so damn flustered. You giggle at his remark, before he speaks again.

“I’m sure you have children of yourself, what’s a girl like yourself doing at a park with nobody?” 

You actually laugh this time. 

“Kids? Absolutely not, not yet.” 

“Really? I mean- you definitely don’t look old, definitely not as old as me, but you seem mature!” He says with genuine surprise.

“Oh, sir, I don’t even have a boyfriend- let alone a child.”

“Wow!” He breathes out. “It’s Burt, by the way, Burt Fabelman. No need to call me sir, you’d make me feel too old.” 

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant by it all!” You defend, scared that you blew it. But he’s quick to reassure you simply.

“It’s okay hon, I know.” 

You sit there for a moment, twiddling your thumbs, and look back up at him. Burt’s staring down at you. When his eyes meet yours, he smiles. It’s warm, sweet. It gives you a tingly feeling in your core.

“Are you really alright?” He asks again, concerned. “Your face is very red…”

He lays the back of his palm on your forehead and you feel like you’re going to explode. 

“No, I’m fine, really!”

He chuckles at your response and feels your cheek with the back of his hand, still very concerned with your state. 

“I have four kids, I know when they’re lying, too, honey.”

You hesitate. Should I lie? You debate. You revel in the consequences before you finally decide that you would come clean. You have nothing to lose, you don't even know the man, hardly. 

“Do you want the truth?” You ask, fiddling with your dress. 

“If it’s not gonna scare me off,” he says as he laughs.

“Well,” you start, ”this is embarrassing, but I saw you sitting on that bench, and I thought you were attractive and I guess I couldn’t stop staring- and I know that sounds really weird but It wasn’t like I was going to just get up and walk on over to say ‘Hello!’ because God only knows-”

“Woah! Hey!”

You bury your face as deep as they could possibly go into your hands out of embarrassment. God, you think, I sound like a fucking baby!

“I’m not mad at you!” He laughs. Oh. “Quite frankly, I think you’re beautiful... actually, way out of my league! Why would such a young, pretty girl want anything to do with an old man like me?”

Oh…?

“I… you just look like you know how to take care of someone… and I think you’re quite handsome,” You reply shyly, not daring to look up at him. 

“Well aren’t you just so sweet,” Burt replies affectionately, coddling you. “Look up at me, please.”

You look up into his eyes, afraid yet unable to look away. 

“How about this… I can take you back to your car, and I’ll give you my phone number so we can talk about it this evening. Does that sound good to you?”

You nod your head and walk with him to your car. If he were any other older man walking you to your car, you would have been exceedingly uncomfortable, but Burt Fabelman had a comforting presence as he loomed over you.

Approaching your car, your lips curl into a smile when you sit in the front seat. 

“Do you have a napkin?” He asks.

You reply with a simple “mhm” and hand him a napkin after digging through your purse.

He grabs a pen from his coat pocket and clicks it, writing his phone number on the napkin laying against his hand. You watch him finish his writing and hand the napkin back to you, leaning over the car. You stare at the writing, before looking back at him as he stands over you. 

“Promise me you’ll call?” He asks with a smile.

“I’m looking forward to it, Burt.”

…

Over the next few days you and Burt constantly talk over the phone. You even leave a chair under the phone on the wall for when either of you decide to call. You learn much about him over the days following— and vice versa. 

Those late night phone calls turn into less of casual discussions of the past, and more playful conversations of the present. You slowly realize how much of a flirt Burt can become when he’s comfortable. He proposes the idea of a date while you fiddle with the cord one late night, saying, “I can’t wait to see you again, bunny. Let me take you somewhere— the shops. I’ll get you whatever you want.” 

Burt was more than delighted to hear you’d be willing to go on a date with him. He hadn’t gone on a real date in years, and he was glad he’d be able to go on one with you. It was kind of strange for a first date, you thought, to go to the shops instead of the traditional dinner at a fancy restaurant, but you wouldn’t dare complain about getting spoiled by a charming, handsome older man.

You decide on a pretty dress and flats, adorning yourself with silver jewelry and floral perfume. Lipstick paints your lips and mascara enhances your eyelashes with every flutter. You carry your purse under your arm as you walk to the entrance, looking around for any sign of Burt. Almost immediately, he catches your eye. He stands tall next to the fountain, his glasses seated on his nose quite low, in a turtleneck and a blazer, an outfit that made you heat up admiring him.

Your face flushes as you stare up at him. 

“Hey, sweetheart!” he breathes quietly, pushing your hair behind your ear. 

“Hi- thanks for inviting me here,” you say as you smile at him. 

“Of course. Where did you want to go first?”

“Uhh- well, I have been wanting to hear the new ‘Temptations’ record.“ 

Burt chuckles, “Oh honey, I’d be more than glad to get you a record, but what do you really want?” 

You tap your foot out of nervousness, you didn’t really think he was being serious when he told you he’d buy you whatever you wanted on that phone call a few nights prior. “If I was being honest I’d really appreciate some new earrings, but you don’t-“ 

“Okay, then that’s what we’ll look at! Is that okay? I can get your record, too.” 

You feel slightly aghast by his offer, but you’re quick to comply. “I mean, it sounds good to me!” 

“Great,” He says, holding his hand out for you to grasp.

You take his hand and walk with him down the atrium, to the jewelry store. When you arrive, you both are greeted by a salesperson who helps you pick out a beautiful pair of earrings: pretty diamond studs. Despite your protests to Burt, because of how expensive they turn out to be, he buys them for you. 

“You really don’t have to spend this much money on me- I appreciate it so much, Burt, but really-“ 

“A beautiful lady like you needs a beautiful pair of earrings. Don’t mention it, doll. I insist.” 

He walks with you out of the store, holding the bag for you. 

“You should put your earrings in, I want to see them!” 

“Oh,” you started, “sure, why not!”

He holds the bag up to you to take the earrings out and put them in your ears. After you do this, you place the box back into the bag, thanking him again.

“They’re gorgeous,” Burt says, astonished. 

“Thank you,” you say, grinning wide.

He kisses you on the cheek and looms over you again. 

“Not as gorgeous as you though, for sure.” 

“Thank you,” is all you can dreamily mutter again, blushing at the floor. 

You hold Burt’s hand on the walk to the record store, blushing the way there. You arrive and quickly find what you’re looking for. You head to the register alone, but Burt insists you pick out a few more, and one for him to listen to. You pick up The Beatles, Beach Boys, and a few more with interesting covers. At the checkout, he forks out money from his wallet like it was nothing, rubbing your shoulder with his left hand. 

You two walk out of the store hand in hand, and mutually decide it’s time to go home, though neither of you want to truly leave each other's company. When you both reach the front gate, he asks if you want to sit in his car and talk for a moment. You immediately oblige and walk with him, taking a seat in the front passenger. 

“I don’t want to leave right now- I feel like I could spend hours with you,” you say with ruby-red cheeks, looking down at your feet. 

“I don’t want to leave you either, bunny. Look at me.” 

He gently tilts your head up at him, using the back of his palm against your chin. 

“Do you want to come home with me tonight? I’ll make sure we come back and get your car in the morning.” 

You look in Burt’s eyes for a moment and nod your head. He leans into you and plants a kiss on your lips, letting it linger for a moment, and pulls away.

“Throw the stuff in the back. I’ll take you, baby.” 

Your eyes frost over with tears formed from pure excitement, and a haze prohibits your view while you grin secretly, looking out the window.

You put your bags in the back and he drives off with you almost giggling in the passenger seat. You admire him at stoplights, his stature, mixed with the glow of the red, yellow, green on his face. You couldn’t believe it. He’s taking you back to his house. Who knows what you’re about to do.

He pulls into his dark driveway and turns off the engine, stepping out, as you do the same. He shows  you to the front door, and you both walk into the beautiful living room together, surrounded by windows. He turns on the light behind you and hangs his blazer on the rack.

“Wanna sit?” He asks as you walk in, motioning over to the couch. 

“Oh, yeah sure.” 

“Make yourself comfortable, hon.” 

You watched him grab two glasses of water from the kitchen and walk over to you, sitting them down on the coffee table and sitting down himself. 

“You really are such a beautiful lady, you know?” 

“Thank you, Burt,” you flustered. “You’re very handsome as well.” 

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to meet someone as pretty and sweet as you are, dear. You make me feel wonderful.”  

“I feel wonderful when I’m with you, too.” 

A grin formed on Burt’s face and he leaned to kiss you, to which you completely oblige as you deepen the kiss, humming into his mouth. Burt lays one of his large hands on your thigh, playing with his thumb, rubbing under the hem of your dress. His calloused fingertips toyed with the fabric. 

“Do you like it when I touch you there?” 

You nodded your head. 

“Okay, baby.” 

You feel your pussy slowly start to ache as he rubs  your inner thigh, kissing you hungrily. You feel completely swallowed by your attraction to him, as you spread your thighs apart and invite his hand farther up your dress. 

“Please, Burt,” you whisper. 

“I’ll take care of you, bunny.” 

He picks you up bridal style and kisses you again, walking you back to his room. You're placed on the bed and Burt lifts up the bottom of your dress, exposing your lace panties and the lower half of your stomach. 

“You wear these often?” He asks, gently squeezing the meat of your thigh. 

“Not necessarily…” you shyly remark. 

“They’re cute, sweetheart. Red’s your color.” 

He dips down and kisses you again. “Can I get this dress off of you?

You squeak, absolutely overtaken by affection, “Mhm.”

You sit up and Burt helps you take the dress off above your head. You feel exposed— lying there in your lace, while he hovers over you fully clothed. The feeling doesn’t last long, however, because before you know it, Burt is taking off his turtleneck and you see his pudgy belly sitting at the top of his pants. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, bunny. You want me to fuck you, hm?” 

“Yes, daddy,”  you whisper boldly.

“I haven’t heard that one before,” Burt chuckles. “Daddy’s gonna make you feel good, bunny. Come here.” 

You sit up and get closer to him, batting your eyes. He cups your cheek in his hand, rubbing it with his thumb. You kiss and nuzzle into the side of his hand, looking up at Burt with a neediness in your eyes.

“Such a pretty baby,” he says, in awe. “Lay back.” 

You obey his demand and lay on your back, your breasts almost spilling out of your bra. Burt leans over you and puts his hands behind your back, unsnapping your bra and taking it off. He cups one of your tits and pinches your nipple, requiting a squeak out of your mouth. Burt laughs and kisses your forehead, apologizing for shocking you like that, before he trails his fingers down your body, making you shiver in reaction. 

Burt grabs your sides and shifts you forward, beginning to peel off the sides of your lace panties. The slick, already formed on your panties, strung out for a moment while you watch him slowly peel them off, from your thighs to off of your ankles.

“So wet,” you hear him purr. 

He takes his thumb and lays it over your sensitive clit, making you hum a moan. He leans over the bed and brings his face to your heat, pulsing with need. You feel his hot breath against your folds, before he brings his lips to you, collecting your slick with his tongue, lapping up and down as you begin to cry out moans and curses. 

You feel him fuck you with his tongue and suck at your clit, making your back arch away from the matress. You hold his head down with your hand, screaming out against your other one. Your thighs begin to squeeze together as you cry out his name, almost squeezing his head along with them. You feel Burt take his rough hands and use both of them to hold your legs down on each side, squeezing into the plush of your thighs. The resistance turns you on more than you already are.

He takes one of his hands off of your thigh and uses them to spread around your pussy, lathering his fingers with fluid, pushing one into you while he sucks you all that he could. He begins slowly, but gets decently faster as he curls into you perfectly. You feel the knot in your stomach forming as he gets faster with his movements. You moan his name more and more, giving him validation that he’s doing a good job.

Your walls tighten around his fingers, making it harder for Burt to curl in and out of you. You feel your impending orgasm build and build as you try to relax your muscles and prolong your pleasure. 

“C’mon, I know you can do it bunny. Cum all over my fingers,” Burt praises. 

“Burt I- ohh- I- fuck!”

Your orgasm crashes over you in a huge wave, your muscles contract while you pant and repeat his name like a prayer. You notice your orgasm slowly calming, but your arousal sticking, and you realize he never stopped finger-fucking you in the first place. 

“O-Oh, baby! Ah-hnng… Burt!” 

He kisses up your stomach with wet lips. 

“I told you I was gonna fuck you good, bunny.” He raises his eyebrows and pulls his fingers out of you, smearing the cum all over the front of your cunt, all spent and red and wet, and wiping the rest on your tits, hardening your nipples from cold air. 

Burt picks you up by the hips again and adjusts you towards the headboard, shuffling off his pants and underwear. He towers over you, his cock leaking from his bright pink tip, thick enough to stretch you out but not long enough to hurt your cervix. 

“You ready for my cock, hon? Gonna let daddy stretch you out?” 

“Mmm, ‘m so ready, ‘m so ready, daddy,” you say, though absolutely spent. 

Burt spends no time hesitating to lather his cock with your juices, feeling your folds with his thickness and slowly putting himself inside you. You mewl as he leans over your body, his lower half deliciously touching your clit. You feel overstimulated but absolutely desperate for his body to be close to yours.

He fucks into you while wet noises fill the room, combining with your moans of ecstasy and his groans and grunts of pleasure. Your legs wrap around his back and he uses his hands to cup behind your head, bringing your bodies closer together. Your foreheads touch together, and Burt looks into your eyes, overwhelmed by your beauty and how good you make him feel. 

“Mm- Burt, baby, hnng- Daddy… please,” you cry out, salivating, pinching your eyes shut as he rutted into you and tears fell down your face, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of your bodies.

“Take it… all for me… bunny.” 

Burt gives you a kiss, mid moan, and by the time the kiss was over, your second orgasm happened almost immediately, crashing over you harder than your previous one. You let out a scream of pleasure while he fucked into you a few more times, finally cumming as well, painting your walls with warm, thick stripes of cum, that made your cunt clench even harder from the feeling. 

Burt kisses you again, slowly removing his cock from your dripping pussy, spewing it out with a pulse. Cum pools below your thighs, making the sheet sticky from under you. You both know it— it’s gross, but neither of you want to leave each other’s company. He lays down beside you, while your eyes flutter. You look cock-drunk from your drool and tears.

“You’re so good baby,” he kisses you. “You’re so good for me.” 

Burt puts the hair out of your face before you reply. 

“Thank you so much, Burt ,” you say with a yawn and a smile. 

“Of course, my pretty girl.”

[qrzrrae]

CONFESSION WALL || MATTHEW STURNIOLO

Pairing: Popular!Matt , normalgirl!oc

Caution!: This is PURELY fiction. Made for my and others entertainment. If you don't like, don't read x! Also, no Y/N here! Js using random name :')

Authors note: THIS IS MY FIRST FIC YALL. DONT JUDGE PLZZZ 🥹🥲 also no smut C's idk how to write that shit I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS THE FIRSF TIME AND I WASNT DONE YET BUTBHEREEE (part 2 in da making)

It was another normal day at Somerville high, at least for the other students. They don't know that me, I, Scarlette Genevieve Adams, A normal schoolgirl, runs the twitter account where all the juciest secrets are voluntarily put out by other students; The Somerville High Confession wall

Okay okay, if you don't know how this works is well basically, students will DM me their secrets or confessions and I'll post it, anonymously, of course.

The day was tiring. The only time I was motivated to do my work was when I was in physics class. Okay, first, I love science, and next, My crush, Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, sat next to me! I knew I had no chance at all with him, since he was the campus crush and I was like nothing, but I still loved him. Soon, physics class came, finally!! I packed up my stuff and bolted to the lab. I sat down on my desk, next to Matt. He gave me a sweet smile as I sat down, which I returned back to him.

Wait... Did he just fucking smile at me? I realized what he did and soon my face heated up as I started blushing. "Are you okay? You seem a little red there." He chuckled, facing my way. "Oh sure yeah!" I said, quickly hiding my face with a book. He was making me blush even more! "Alright, sureee." He smirked leaning back into his chair and waited for the professor. He looked so hot slouched down on the chair like that..

Finally, the class ended. It felt like we were trapped in there forever. I grabbed my bag and went straight for the door, which was hard enough since my seat was at the back. "Damn. These people are like fucking animals" Matt chuckled peeking over someone's shoulder to see if the line was getting any shorter. "Right? Like I wish I sat in the front." I reply with a chuckle. "You don't wanna sit with me in the back?" Matt said facing towards me while tilting his head slightly. "N-no! I do it's just I wanna be in the front so I could y'know.. Get out faster.." I said nervously. His head tilting made me go crazy. He nodded as the people in the room started to decrease and we were the last ones in the room.

"Alrighty, bye Scar. See ya!" Matt shouted as he waved and ran off. Finally. I can go home and check my new confessions! Checking my twitter DMS were the best parts of my day. Being the owner of the school's confession wall, I knew everything about everyone.

I opened my laptop and quickly opened twitter. 2 new messages. I clicked on my inbox and chose the first message I saw.

Oh of course. To Matthew Sturniolo, my man! I didn't want to be rude so I replied.

Done. I noticed Matt was very active when it came to replying to his admirers. But I was happy when he kept saying "no" to them, it seemed like he was saving his heart for someone, and I thought it was me.

MATT POV

I sighed dramatically as I opened my door to my room. I threw my bag down on the floor. I took my phone out of my bag and kicked my shoes off and laid down on the bed. I opened twitter and saw a new post from the Somerville confession wall account.

Another post, about me, again. I clicked on the post and saw a random girl confess to me. I loved all the attention but it was too much! Everyday, I see letters in my locker and 100 girls confess to me using twitter. I liked, wait no, I loved someone already and I need people to know that.

I hover hesitantly over the message button but I finally brought myself to click it.

I was scrolling through tiktok when I got a message request on twitter, I clicked on the notification and was shocked. Matthew Sturniolo messaged me, to confess? To who?

Oh my fucking word. HE JUST CONFESSED TO ME! TO ME?!?

I jaw slacked open as I read his message. I was shaking so bad.

[jvngkook97]

Muse

synopsis; in which Jungkook is a contestant on a reality show for top artists in the nation and he asks you to partake in a FaceTime interview at the last second.

pairing; artist!jungkook x girlfriend!reader

genre; fluff, humor, established relationship, art of the soul au, drabble

warnings; suggestive dialogue

rating; 18+

w/c; 2,862

a/n; you do NOT need to read the art of the soul series in order to read this, but feel free if you wish to do so! i’ll even leave you a little link down below ;) also, don’t mind me posting this randomly, just trying to get back into the groove of writing again. enjoy~ don’t be a silent reader! <3 feedback is always appreciated and helps to keep this writer motivated to put out more content – like this! all the love, always.

Read AOTS Here -> 01

Calling Jungkook…

The call connects and you’re greeted by Jungkook’s dreamy smile. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. Even through a video call, he gives you butterflies.

You watch as his eyes light up when you join the call. His smooth voice is just as sweet as you remember.

“Hi beautiful.”

“Jungkook! Hey!” Your eyes greedily rake over his laxed figure that sits in a random chair. It’s been months since you’ve last seen him in person, the last being the day he left to start filming for the reality show he’s currently partaking in. “How do you look even cuter than I remember?”

“I could say the same about you!” He throws his arms out at you with a gusto, leaning forward in the chair to get close to the phone he precariously has propped up against a stack of decorative books that litter the mock living room set around him. His face morphs into one of disbelief at your own natural beauty he hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing for so long.

“I missed your face.”

You find yourself blushing; the words having slipped out of their own accord. This virtual reunion is stirring up more emotions than you expected. You want to reach through the screen and pull Jungkook close. He smiles softly and leans even closer to the camera.

“I miss yours too. So damn much.”

For a minute, you both just savor each other’s presence – even if it is only through a phone screen. Then, you break it, begrudgingly. You don’t know how much time you have left with him until the interview starts.

“Are you in the studio?”

Jungkook grins and nods, you stretch your neck as you try to take in the scene over his shoulder, as if the action itself could somehow make you see better…it doesn’t. What you can see in your limited view, however, is this. The space is bustling with artists, models, and crew members – filling the studio with chatter that filters in from the background through your own phone speakers.

“Yep! This is where all the magic happens. And the less than magical stuff, too.”

“I’d rather you come make some magic over here.” You give Jungkook a seductive look, and he returns a smirk. A fire ignites in his eyes that you’ve been missing since he left.

“I bet you’d like that.” You don’t miss the way his voice drops when he speaks next that has you subconsciously wetting your lips, reminiscing on previous intimate moments between you both.

Jungkook is sitting at what you believe must be his work station, but his attention is all on you. His model must be taking a break, so you’re both free to gaze into your phones like lovebirds for a while longer.

“I’m feeling pretty lucky that I get to talk to you in the middle of a shoot like this.”

“Me too! How long do I have you all to myself?”

Jungkook shakes his head with disappointment.

“Not long enough. I’m sure they’re going to barge in on us with cameras any second now.”

You pout cutely, it makes his bunny smile appear.

“We’ll have to make the most of this moment then.”

Jungkook offers a content sigh before a mischievous smile spreads across his face.

“Why do I suddenly have the urge to skip the rest of the challenge and talk to you all day?”

Your eyes light up with an idea. You snap your fingers at him, pointing.

“Just do it! Tell the hosts you got locked in the supply closet.” You present your suggestion with a cheesy grin, and you both laugh. It feels good to joke with each other, even just for a minute. Jungkook looks tenderly into the camera at you.

“I missed the sound of your laugh.”

He continues to look into the camera with adoration in his eyes. You spent a beat in silence, content to finally be chatting again, grinning madly. Inwardly, you’re cursing the stupid show rules that don’t allow phones in order to avoid any spoiler leaks.

“Thanks for doing this on such short notice. They literally didn’t tell us about it until there was already paint on our models.” He has a small scowl on his face, and you can’t help but laugh at the mental image of twelve frenzied artists finding out about their bonus challenge.

“No problem! I’m happy to be here, and uh–,” you fidget nervously, looking down at your fingers that sit atop the desk you’re currently using for this spontaneous interview located in your shared apartment with Jungkook. “Thanks for picking me.”

You feel a warmth in your chest as you say it, cheeks gaining a small tint to them at how flustered you feel about him choosing you of all people to be the subject of his interview. You flashback to when he first asked you, only a little bit ago.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

20 Minutes Earlier - Texting

Jungkook: Baby? Are you there? It’s kind of urgent 😬

Is everything okay? 😯

Jungkook: I’m fine! Just short on time.

What’s up?

Jungkook: I’m in the middle of a storytelling challenge. And they just told us we each need to video call a guest for an interview.

OMG am I your phone-a-friend???

Jungkook: Of course you are 😂

What an honor! I’d love to, I just wish I had a little time to prepare. Lol.

Jungkook: I know it’s short notice…it was a surprise to us too. The director said they want to introduce the top 10 and “share our stories.” There’s no one I’d rather have representing me….no one else gets me like you do. 👉🏻👈🏻

I’ll win the hearts of thousands of new fans for you 😉

Jungkook: I honestly think you would. When I’m talking about my muse, I’m in my best light.

I’m a strategic advantage 😘

Jungkook: I bet together we could shake off some of the negative attention I’ve been getting. I also, obviously, miss you like crazy. What do you think? Can you do it?

I’d love to! Do I get to tell everyone I’m your favorite person?

Jungkook: Of course you do ❤️

I might start gushing about you during the interview, hope you don’t mind 😚

Jungkook: I think I’ll get a gold star if one of us starts crying so….. 😉 Are you ready? I’m about to start the call.

Go ahead 😊

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Present Time

Jungkook smiles warmly into the camera. His voice is tender, eyes sincere.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else. Plus, it means I get to see you. It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“I’m just happy I was actually free when you called, though let’s be honest–,” you shrug your shoulders. “I would’ve dropped anything to help you.”

“Thank you, baby. But seriously, right? They definitely thrive on chaos here.”

Jungkook shoots a glare off screen, presumably at the camera crew. He sighs as they move into frame and set up around him.

“Here comes Rick, I think they’re going to start the interview now.”

“Already? I haven’t practiced at all!”

Your heart pounds, but Jungkook eases your worries with a sly smile.

“Don’t overthink it.”

After the camera crew piles around him, a smarmy looking man with a microphone — Rick, one of the celebrity judges — slides into view and sidles up next to Jungkook.

“Hello! Thanks for joining us today! Now, Jungkook, who do we have here?”

Rick’s eyes dart between Jungkook’s and yours with an exaggerated air of excitement, something you’re positive he’s done multiple times being on camera cause he was used to it. However, with your line of work of being a model, you were not.

Interviews weren’t mandatory, only posing for pictures was. And that? You were an expert at. Jungkook could see you begin to fidget nervously and opted to take the attention off you, if just for a moment longer to get your bearings together.

Jungkook squared his shoulders and sat up straight, puffing his chest even a bit in pride before he spoke, his eyes never leaving yours.

“My guest is y/n. My muse.”

You try to swallow your nerves as Rick peers at you through Jungkook’s phone. Your only line of defense is to smile broadly and hope your voice doesn’t crack.

“Hello!” Seemed cheery enough you think, albeit a tad shaky, but if anyone noticed they didn’t say anything.

Jungkook offers a proud smile as Rick effortlessly dons his tv host persona. He speaks directly into one of the studio cameras, flashing a knowing grin.

“You know, I had a feeling Jungkook was going to call you today.”

“I heard Jungkook has been hyping me up.”

Jungkook shrugs as if to say there’s no denying it. He offers a humble defense to keep the mood light.

“I’m a pretty big fan.”

“Yes, we’ve heard a lot about you. If I didn’t know better, I might think Jungkook has a bit of a crush!”

You gulp, unsure of how to respond. Doesn’t he know you’re dating? Before you can figure out what to say, Rick laughs and gives Jungkook a playful nudge.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Y/N, I can tell Jungkook doesn’t use the word “muse” lightly. What’s it like to be such a source of inspiration?”

“I would say we both inspire each other. We energize one another, you know? Creatively and otherwise. We keep a fire going in each other.”

Rick nods knowingly, but your eyes are on Jungkook, who is absolutely beaming.

“What a beautiful sentiment. Is it hard to keep that fire going while he is away with us?”

Now it’s your turn to square up your shoulders in pride and confidence, voice strong and words absolute.

“If the episodes I’ve watched told me anything, it looks like Jungkook’s creative spark is alive and well.”

Rick keeps the interview moving at a clip, eager to ask his next question.

“It sounds like you two know each other quite well. How did you meet? Is there a story there?”

Now that you think about it, you don’t think you ever told the world exactly how you two came to meet yet. Though it’s nothing unique, the world will come to find.

“We met online, technically. I’ve always been a fan of Jungkook’s artwork and was interested in purchasing a piece of his. He asked if I wanted to see it in person before making a final decision, so we met up. Hit it off immediately and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”

Rick have a chortle with a shake of his head.

“Ah, the internet. It’s amazing how it brings people together.”

“It’s been a journey for sure! From sending a single message to–,” you gesture around you, eyes wide with disbelief and expression full of happiness. “–all of this!”

Rick raises a hand to his ear, ready for you to spill even more gossip and juicy details. The caricature of it all makes you want to laugh, but it puts you at ease at the same time.

“What is he like off set? Let’s give the folks at home an idea of who Jungkook really is.”

“He’s every bit as charming and fun as he seems on camera, maybe even more.”

“Here on set, we’re getting used to Jungkook goofing around before the challenges kick off. Some people thrive in the spotlight, and I love it almost as much as the cameras do!”

“You can always count on him to put a smile on your face.”

Jungkook gives a sheepish look, clearly flattered but with the fluster of feeling called out.

“Well, I’m not going to shut myself away with twenty other artists without making a few friends!”

The three of you laugh together before Rick clears his throat to ask the next question. Jungkook leans back in his seat with a satisfied grin.

“I understand your relationship with Jungkook isn’t purely an artistic one. Give us the juicy details!” Rick leans forward in his seat with a gusto, using his entire body to show exactly how much he wants you to give something for the cameras and for the show itself.

“We love to have fun and explore our creativity. He has this playful energy that’s so infectious. He isn’t afraid to get messy, so there’s never a dull moment.” You smile wistfully as you try to explain what you find so special about your relationship with Jungkook.

Your heart races as you recall memories of laughing together while you worked on his audition reel. You center yourself by keeping your eyes on him, trying to mirror his relaxed demeanor.

“We always have something exciting going on, televised body painting competitions included.”

“I’m sure the excitement doesn’t stop there.”

Rick gives Jungkook a teasing look.

“It sounds like you and y/n have something really special. How did you pull that off?”

Jungkook keeps his lax position, hands folded on top of his crossed knees. As he answers Rick, his eyes stay focused on yours, sending you a small bunny toothed grin that you can’t help but beam at yourself. Your entire body buzzes with warmth.

“I had some luck on my side the day we met, for sure, but – you’re right, Rick. This is really special. I’m grateful everyday to have y/n in my life.”

You let Jungkook’s words sink in, and they wrap around you like a warm hug. You could lose yourself in the sound of his voice echoing in your head, but Rick snaps you out of your gleeful silence.

“Now, y/n, why do you think Jungkook has what it takes to win the competition?”

That’s easy, you think.

“He can do anything he sets his mind too.”

“Thanks, y/n, that’s really sweet.”

Rick let’s out a sigh only one who has the privilege of being in love can make as his eyes dart between both you and Jungkook’s own lovesick expressions, completely disregarding the fact it’s being caught on camera for the whole world to see.

“What a fantastic way to close out this call, don’t you think?”

You nod, albeit reluctantly to have it end, wanting to spend as much time talking to (or about) Jungkook as much as possible. That interview turned out to be a breeze, and for that, you’re exceedingly relieved about.

“That is just about all the time we have, though. Thanks for joining us, y/n!”

You wave at the camera.

“Bye Jungkook. I miss you! Can’t wait to hug you again!”

“I miss you too, thanks for calling in!”

Rick all but skips out of view, a train of cameras following behind him. Jungkook holds his phone once again, taking a moment to say goodbye before returning to the chaos of the challenge.

“Wait, y/n! Don’t hang up yet!”

Jungkook’s whole face is one of pure panic as he sees you reach to end the video call, you believing that that was the unfortunate end to your time with him. You jerk your hand back away from the button in surprise.

“Oh! Sure! I’m here, I’m here!”

You throw your hands up in front of the screen so he can see, in fact, you’re not going to press anything. He lets out a puff of air and you both laugh a little at what just transpired. Jungkook looks over his shoulder to make sure Rick and the crew are gone before speaking.

“I couldn’t say this during the interview but–,”

“You have very sexy ideas roaming around your head right now?”

You waggle your eyebrows playfully, but the way you bite your lip has him know you’re half serious.

“How did you know?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking of your hands all over me either.”

Jungkook smirks, a hint of wildfire in his eyes. His voice drops with his next words.

“And what, pray tell, are my hands doing exactly?”

“Whatever you want them to do.”

He lets out a big exhale from his nose, nostrils flaring, and jaw clenching from hidden desire.

“I can’t describe it in words, but the next time we see each other–,” you swear you see his eyes turn a shade darker as he says his next words, no, promise. “–I do plan to show you.”

Your body vibrates in excitement and you can’t help but prod him further.

It’s been way too long.

“Can I get a preview?”

He looks around and rubs his neck nervously.

“Not right now, Rick would have a field day with this “scoop” if he overheard us.”

You chuckle. He has a point. With every contestant and crew member close by, the details of this conversation will have to wait. But you can tell from Jungkook’s face that the only thing he wants more than winning is getting some alone time with you.

“Guess we’ll have to wait then?”

“Not for long, I promise.”

You hear a faint voice call his name in the background that has his figure slumping in disappointment, face sullen.

“I gotta go, but I love you.”

He gives the camera a kiss and you do the same.

“I love you too. Text me when you win.”

And, he does.

[indelen]

This is my reread of the Lockwood and Co. Books, organized by @blue-boxes-magic-and-tea, I'll make a general summary of several chapters and then post bits and pieces that jumped out at me.

Part I, Chapters 3-4:

Things go predictably bad. And I say predicably because there's these details all through the first chapters about how things went wrong before so you're kind of see it coming when things go wrong again. My favorite detail is that Lockwood once got locked in an bathroom while on a case? (By a ghost he maintained!). But this all builds tension and sympathy for the main characters. Through it all you don't think "oh these idiots!" you think "damn, these are just kids!" of course they mess up, get themselves in trouble, pull reckless stunts, forget stuff, push the blame around, talk shit about each other and so on. Their prefrontal cortex hasn't developed! They act on impulse because literally the bit of their brain that plans ahead hasn't finished cooking! They react differently to stress and fear. And I think the books telegraph this well. Lucy knows logically she should not use Greek Fire indoors and yet when shit hits the fan she uses Greek Fire indoors. And who is really to blame here for the resulting outcome? The kid or the system that entrusted the kid with a thermite bomb in the first place?

Bits and bobs:

Girl, you're 14, you shouldn't be trusted with a soft serve machine at DQ!

And that's the saddest part of all. The kids don't have a chance to look into solving The Problem themselves because they're in survival mode. And the adults are too busy profiting from putting their lives on the line to care.

I like how the closer the ghost gets the more terrifying it becomes. At first you think the fact that she has no face is the worst but, but then all these creepy details start coming into focus...

I'm sorry but all I kept thinking when I read this was:

Lockwood is such a slave to fashion it nearly actually gets him killed. Meanwhile Lucy probably cuts her hair over the sink with kitchen scissors so as to avoid getting ectoplasm on it. Truly they were always meant to fall for each other for our entertainment. A modern day Sophie and Howl.

I find Lucy's relationship with the ghost of Annie very interesting. In the show they made her resemble Norrie which is an understandable move to visually tie her to the main character's past and motivations. But in the book it's different. Lucy goes out of her way to point out this girl is nothing like her and in fact if they had met in real life they would probably not like each other very much (Lucy's very complicated relationship to Other Girls and how she perceives and carries herself around them is an essay for another day). But despite this Lucy feels an enormous amount of compassion for the victim and this effectively jump starts the story. I feel like this is very important, especially in a book for younger audiences. There is no such thing as a perfect victim, but your compassion and your sense of justice must extend to even, or perhaps especially, those whom you might not especially like.

Lucy describes Lockwood's smile count: 3

[zenkindoflove]

ACOTAR tag game 💕

Answer the questions below & tag whoever you want, or make it an open tag!!

Thank you @the-darkestminds!!! Your answers were so fun to read!

Who's your favourite ACOTAR character?

Lucien. He's always going to be #1. 🦊

Who's your least favourite character?

Azriel. I fluctuate between I can't be bothered and actively being a hater. Also the fandom's obsession with him has soured me further because I'm contrarian like that. I can't be helped. I got the ick early on and I'm afraid I'm likely not to come back from it.

Say something nice about your least favourite character.

God damn it. Um, he's pretty.

Who's your favourite High Lord? (If you picked one for your fav character, then who's your second fav!)

I love me some Tarquin. I love that he wants to tear down power structures and that he doesn't trust Rhys and Feyre (as he shouldn't).

Favourite MINOR character?

How minor is minor? Does Eris count? He's not minor in my heart. He feels more major than minor. If Eris doesn't count then I would say Jurian. I need more of that chaotic hottie.

Favourite ship? (Crackships included!)

Elucien is my OTP forever. ☀️🌷

Favourite court and why?

I think it's a mix between Day and Autumn since I think about those two the most. Day because there is so much mysterious magic going on there, with their powers, the libraries, and the Pegasuses. And Autumn because they have all the interesting intrigue, story, and the aesthetics and atmosphere is my FAVORITE. Sooooo.... I'm gonna go Autumn.

Make up a brand new court RIGHT NOW, NO PREP JUST VIBES.

Since there are the seasonal courts and the solar courts already, maybe there could be courts that can be different ecosystems (like desert, tundra, rainforest, etc). And I would do the Ocean Court so there can be mermaids, mermen, and mertheys. For no ulterior motives whatsoever.

What relationship would you have wanted to see more of in the books?

I need more with Lucien and Eris like I need air to breathe. Please oh please, SJM, give us that brotherly angst and love.

What's your unpopular opinion?

Let's be real. It's probably many of my opinions on Azriel. But since I already gave him a hard time. I would say probably that I'm firmly in camp Elain's book is next and that I disagree a lot with people who say "we just don't know enough about Elain" or "Elain has no development". I've made several posts about this, so I won't rehash it. But I think Elain is very well developed for her book and we've been through several life changing moments with her already. We might not "know" Elain in that she is more reserved and we haven't had her POV, but we know a lot about Elain, her history, her narrative conflicts, how other characters perceive her, and the direction that her story is generally going to take is pretty easy to visualize. Basically, I care about Elain. I pay attention to her. I see what Sarah has been doing and I'm ready and here for it. We know just as much if not more about her than most of the other side characters in this series.

What's your favourite headcanon/fan canon?

That Eris is GAY (or bisexual).

If you were swept away to Prythian, what's ONE thing you would want to do?

Fuck Lucien and if he won't have me the next available redheaded Vanserra. Preferably Eris. Oh, I'd also want to eat some food cause wtf does this faerie food taste like that makes human food taste like ass?

If you could have ONE faerie ability seen in the books, which would it be?

Healing I think would be the most useful.

No pressure tagging: @crazy-ache, @olenvasynyt, @ataraxiasflame, @teddyhoneybear, @lucienarcheron, @animezinglife , @starsreminisce