#I still can't get over the fact that they felt the need to serialize even their anthology show ffs

[ninewheels]

Glass Onion set the perfect precedent for what I want to see "more of" from Blanc as a character:

I want cute little snippets of an unremarkable personal life--such as seeing his husband for thirty seconds.

I want to hear his opinions on everyday things--such as him disliking Clue and Amogus.

I want to hear him react to new ways to new situations--such as being exasperated to the point of near-heartache by how stupid Miles Braun is.

*hitting you with a stick* no benoit blanc movies should not interact. they should not lead up to something. you need to detox from the marvel/sherlock bbc poisoning. they should be completely independent movies (maybe w some cameos/little references for fun) and go on for as long as there are stories rian johnson wants to tell in this universe. i do not want an overarching plot i do not want a team up i dont want a benoit-focused prequel i want some good old fashioned episodic murder mysteries that have nothing to do with each other!!!!!!!!!!! also rian johnson has literally said he's not gonna do a prequel and he wants the movies to all stand on their own

addendum 1: by "marvel/sherlock bbc poisoning" i dont mean that those caused this over-serialization, but i think they are partially responsible for why audiences are expecting it. learn to engage w murder mysteries on the genre's own terms

addendum 2: idc what headcanons you have. i actively encourage you to write fanfic about marta and helen solving crime if you wanna. that is literally what fanfiction is for my guy! if you want to know how phillip and benoit met THAT IS WHY FANFIC EXISTS

[genericpuff]

I was kind of curious: What do you think of Persephone's therapy scenes in episodes 160-161?

I personally liked them, but you and many other LO critics always seem to see things that totally flew over my head (I mean that in a positive way).

I think the idea behind them was fine, just the execution that felt really half-baked. Rachel doesn't like scenes to sit too long so the therapy scene, of course, wound up being rushed in the course of 2-3 episodes (meaning she had to have Persephone dump everything all at once) and while Persephone's dialogue is handled relatively well, the direction of the scene itself feels entirely mismanaged (which is both a side effect of Rachel's directionless writing and the fact that she clearly doesn't want to do more than one of these kinds of episodes so she needs to speedrun it).

TRIGGER WARNING: Discussion concerning sexual assault ahead!

Like, let's start with Persephone's intent in going to therapy. Wanting to pursue therapy doesn't just happen suddenly, there's usually a "trigger event" to make someone realize "I need help", whether it be hitting rock bottom or even just going "I feel like I don't have the skills or tools necessary to deal with what I'm dealing with, I need a professional opinion".

Despite Eros advising her to go to therapy all the way back in S1 to address her assault-

-she actually finally goes to therapy in S2 not to address the assault, but to address... how she feels insecure in comparison to Hera who she just found out Hades had a long-term affair with??? At least that's definitely the implication.

And then of course the therapy session itself segues immediately into "Persephone is a high achiever and it's because of her mom being overbearing" which Rachel doesn't connect at all to either the SA or her feeling insecure compared to Hera (which, by the way, barely even has anything to do with her, but she didn't - and still doesn't - have the emotional maturity or self-respect to realize that Hades is a serial cheater-)

That's where the first therapy episode cuts off, and then the next episode immediately opens with Persephone writing her entire backstory on a whiteboard, so we can assume time has passed and she's talked about everything from her childhood up until this point.

Then we get Chiron asking Persephone... what could go wrong if she leaves TGOEM??

Even though we never saw any of the actual sequence so it just feels like a question that's coming out of nowhere? Like did Persephone say during that schpeel that she wanted to leave TGOEM? Isn't that something we should have seen to connect these two trains of thought?

Ah, right, because we have to get into Hades. Because this comic fails the Bechdel test so hard it can't even have a character talk about their trauma or childhood without it seguing into "well there's this one specific main character guy I just really wanna sleep with-"

Don't get me wrong, if Rachel is trying to "deconstruct purity culture" here, I can get her angle with this, if Persephone has been "groomed her entire life" to be an eternal maiden then there's clearly some thought processes about sexual attraction there that are being challenged by her attraction to Hades. But it just feels so rushed purely for the sake of getting her through her trauma and childhood problems and everything that Rachel tacked onto her backstory (in an attempt to make her seem more than just a self-insert) so that Rachel can get her back on track to sleeping with Hades, the one and only man she's clearly ever felt sexual attraction to enough to want to leave TGOEM and question her entire childhood.

And then we get this and I just-

Like first of all, again, Persephone being a complete airhead and not realizing that it has less to do with her possibly being an inadequate partner and more to do with Hades being a serial cheater who also used her as an emotional affair partner;

but ALSO the fact that the conclusion is some "eureka" moment of "you're a bad decision maker" ??? I was a fan of the comic still when this scene happened and even I went "huh?"

Like she doesn't bother to try and connect it to everything she just learned and said about her childhood and how she wants to be the "perfect daughter" who will make everyone happy, Chiron just reduces it to "oh you just suck at making decisions". As if "sucking at making decisions" isn't like, a reactionary extension of deeper problems. She's treating it as if Persephone is some "puzzle" to be solved and her being a "bad decision maker" was the answer when it's undoubtedly just one of many side effects of her upbringing. It feels like she's addressing the cough and not the virus.

Also a little off topic but-

Gotta love how we've never seen Persephone actually employ this homework from her therapist because she's constantly stapled to Hades and the only thing she cares about is his happiness. Literally, I don't think Persephone could possibly answer that question because she's never been independent enough to even learn what makes her happy - she's jumped from wanting to make her mother happy to wanting to make Hades happy but we're supposed to condemn the former and celebrate the latter.

Buuut of course we don't get her answering that question because again, Rachel can't spend more than 30 seconds on a single scene because that would demand too much writing and thought from her. So we cut to Hera having a discussion with Asclepius regarding her scars re-opening, yadda yadda.

By the time we cut back to the therapy session at the start of the next episode (that's three episodes that have been spent basically accomplishing nothing because none of the thought threads tie together in a meaningful way beyond what the audience has to assume) Chiron is conveniently wrapping things up and it's then and only then does Rachel try to actually incorporate the SA plotline that was Persephone's ORIGINAL MOTIVATION in going to therapy.

Now, the scene for the most part is fine, I don't really like how the therapy session was written leading up to it, but her describing her freeze response and how she feels guilty she couldn't "fight back" is a very real feeling that I can definitely say was well written.

My one gripe with it though - and sure, this might be nitpicky, but here me out - is this:

I don't particularly like that Chiron the therapist just found out about her patient being a rape victim - someone who's also said she doesn't like people grabbing her / touching her without her consent - and then decides the best course of action is to comfort her... while touching her.

Now I want to make it perfectly clear, it's not against the law or even the code of ethics to make physical contact between a therapist and their patient. Loads of patients have made breakthroughs with their therapists that have called for hugs and while some therapists may not be okay with it, there are definitely therapists who are who fully understand that hugs in those moments are the best thing for a person. But it's still a general boundary that is there and even with patients who aren't victims of SA, consent needs to be asked for / given.

So Chiron just... coming over and touching Persephone on the knee, while undoubtedly seen as a "warm and comforting act" by those who have had similar sessions with their own therapists or even just those who have no clue and see it on the surface level as being "sweet", really irks me, because it just seems so tone deaf to do with a character like Persephone who is supposed to be a victim of having her bodily autonomy taken away from her.

Again, it's a small criticism, and undoubtedly a nitpick in the eyes of some, but a simple "can I give you a hug?" from either Chiron or Persephone would have gone a long way in accomplishing Persephone's need for consent and bodily autonomy a lot more than just having Chiron come up and touch her leg without her consent. Please, for the love of god, let Persephone have some autonomy, asking for consent doesn't ruin the moment.

And that's pretty much it, Persephone talks about how she feels like she's tethered to Apollo, and Chiron assures her that's not the case, session over, Persephone goes outside to Hades aaaand notice how we never actually tackled that "I feel insecure because of my partner having former partners?" thing? Notice how the best we got was her talking about her fears of being an "inadequate partner" which focused entirely on her not being "enough" for Hades and being a "bad decision maker" rather than pointing out 1.) Hades' own faults in being a serial cheater that would undoubtedly contribute to her insecurities and 2.) what Persephone could do for Hades rather than what Hades could do for Persephone? It's always "I don't know if I'm good enough for him" and never "I don't know if he's good enough for me."

Yet another F-- on Lore Olympus' Bechdel test. Every single thing tacked onto Persephone's backstory is meant purely to get her with Hades - TGOEM is just an obstacle preventing her from having sex with Hades, the assault is just a framing device to show how much "better" Hades is for Persephone than Apollo, her overbearing childhood is just to show how much more "free" she is now that she's not living with her mother and is living with Hades instead, etc.

No agency, no autonomy, no character, even when it tries.

[flymetosnarryland]

My Snarry WIPs' list.

I would like to share something. My Snarry WIPs' list, yup. Why? I always felt weird writing about myself and stuff I do, but I'm processing changes and thought I can share not only art, lol.

How many project are you working on? I'll dive into couple of mine:

Date with a Star - a Post-War romantic comedy. Harry is in love with Severus, Severus secretly loves Harry. Both are too scared to say what they feel to not lose their friendship. A friend in need asks Harry for help and this is where the wild ride with dumb dating TV-show starts. Especially because Harry don't know that the same friend-in-need blackmailed Severus to get him into the same show too. This is actually a second Snarry fic I ever started to write, inspired by dating TV-show from 1992. I remember that when the idea for this one hit me, I was laughing for a good hour (that TV-show was absolutely ridiculous). And I still feel a pinch of positive embarrassment when think about what's going on there. In fact this story made me want to learn how to translate my wiritngs into English. It's half written and translated too. I really have to finish second part.

Infraction - my first monster fic. My baby. Crime (serial killer), slow burn, Muggle AU featuring Marauders and Death Eaters, political sheananigans and Severus' old flame. I have entire story written out from beginning to the end. What's more... with an ending that allows me to dive into second book (I'm excited lika a child) including the initial idea for it, ahh. Every time I think about Infraction, I feel butterflies in my stomach and a tear comes to my eye, damn. However, the entire project requires a huge amount of work. And a few modifications that I finally have to do to complete the first stage. It's not simple, though. I regret a bit that I released the cover, prologue and first chapter. I was prematurely carried away by the joy of creation, but that's okay. Going to fix it all in time.

In the Moonlight - working title. Something I planned to write for last year's Snarry AUctoberfest, but the beast got bigger, lol. Crime (kidnapping), Muggle AU - my great weakness and, most importantly, inspired by the movie Bodyguard (the one with Whitney Huston). Much like Infraction, this fic is fully planned and scripted. I can't believe I managed to do it. I wrote 1/4 of the whole thing and even have the lyrics of original song that Harry dedicates to Severus, although I don't know anything about music at all (an elephant stepped on my ear).

In between - a drawing series. Harry and Severus in a cute/fluff version. Post-War and happy life, because that's what they deserve!

First time - Drama/Romance, Muggle AU (gosh, yeah, again!). This is a project I want to do 50/50 as a fic/comic. A few works and dirty sketches have already landed here. I have a little dream of writing something that includes e-mails/text messages. In general, a romance that started online. Aren't Harry and Severus purfect for this? (Plus doing art in colour for this project was a test I wanted to start before 3B.)

3B - a Vampire fic, yessss. Can you believe that once I said, I'll never ever write or do anything connected to vampires? Hehe, now I'm in the middle of it, fully commited and over the moon. A bit dark/angsty story with a bonus: illustrations. Crime (more like, cri-me a river, lol; I mean, again? Yup xD), Post-War, a few intrigues, even a SnarryWedding o_0 gosh. That is another thing I said: "No, that's not going to happen." I guess, I fell on my head since now I do everything I promised to myself not to. But it's fun. And bloody, mhaha. I also created my own Vampire Villains and I kinda fell in love with them. Going to sneak into this fic a bit of blood magic mechanics that I created for my fantasy book, too. The picture at the top is one version of the cover sketches ɷ◡ɷ

Adrenaline - working title. Post-War/Drama/Romance and slow burn, a bit of Hogwarts, a bit of Quidditch and for a change Severus will have to show that he wants something more. I mean, I always writing/thinking about Harry chasing Severus. So here the dynamic will change a little. Can't wait for it! The idea for this one was accidentaly born last week and I can't stop it anymore. The inspiration comes from the cover art for Witch Weekly that I did, lol. I had no idea that at the stage of brainstorming, it would turn into another monster. It supposed to be a short story, but, apparently, I'm not good at short stories and it's time to come to terms with it xD I won't cry either because I like Harry and Severus pairing up in different ways/AU's, hehe. And most importantly - creating all these things, even if they don't fully see the world outside my drawer, still gives me great joy!

[miz-chase]

I have thoughts about anti-monogamy Bones turned monogamous relationship with Booth. Mostly that I don't think she was anti-monogamy. I think she was scared and didn't see the benefit of letting a single person that close where she'd have to deal with the risk of losing them (again).

(I say this as an autistic person with social trauma who has been in (mostly)healthy poly relationships). I'm also not trying to criticise anyone else's takes / headcanons, just offer my perspective. Because I really love that post you made about how the show could have done better and it lead to these thoughts and I wanted to share.

As much as I wish polyamoury was treated better and didn't repeatedly get shown to be a lie / causing murderous levels of jealousy... I think it makes sense for her.

She's a traumatised autistic person who is scared to let other people in. She's shown repeatedly to not let people too close because of her fear of abandonment. Casually dating multiple people at once makes abandonment less scary because there's someone else and she doesn't let many of them get close enough for it to still be a problem. Her more serious relationships also mostly occur just after something has happened to make it seem like she'll never be with Booth, which suggests to me that she's using them more to try to get over him than that she'd want both.

She makes excellent points about polyamoury and it's anthropological logic (which I really appreciate) but it always felt like she was trying to justify herself and mostly avoid getting too close to any one person. Being monogamous or poly is an identity like any other kind of queer. We never see her express romantic or sexual feelings for more than one person at a time (the two boyfriends had one each), so it makes sense to me that she only feels those for one person at a time. Once that fear is (mostly) gone, she has the opportunity to realise that she does actually need one specific person more than the rest, and feels romantic and sexual attraction for him.

I really liked that she had two boyfriends for different reasons, except for the fact that she didn't talk to them about that and make sure they were OK with a poly relationship and fulfilling specific needs, not the traditional US expectation of being everything to each other.

It really annoys me that so much fanfic portrays those relationships as mistakes because there were two simultaneously rather than because she wasn't honest with them.

But that also happens shortly after pain in the heart, where she thinks Booth is dead and then finds out Zack, her favourite intern, helped a serial killer, and then the Detective in Yanks in the UK encourages her to date Booth. It strikes me as very much running away from emotions behaviour. Like, even a perfect stranger can see how much Booth means to her, but she can't go through that heartache of thinking he's dead, or the heartache of being betrayed by, and losing, someone she's close to again, so... two boyfriends. Not Booth. Kept at arms length and fulfilling separate purposes. And that's fine, because monogamy isn't logical for the survival of the species anyway.

But then, early on, Booth starts getting through some barriers and they become super close, fulfilling pretty much every need, except sex and actually telling each other how they feel. I think Sweets called it a surrogate relationship. They seemed to spend all their time together, except to go on dates (but even then, they interrupted each other's dates plenty). Once they're also having sex, how would she even fit in another person?

[yanderes-galore]

Number 3. I love Rivalries. And DBD

Unknown (Platonic) and Shape (Romantic) rivalry (DBD)

I warn you this may be short since I didn't find these two a compatible pair :( I still toyed with the idea a bit though!

Yandere! The Unknown vs The Shape (Michael Myers)

Pairing: Platonic/Dubious (Unknown)/Romantic/Dubious (Myers)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Blood, Dubious companionship.

The most these two share in common is their mysterious demeanors.

They both have rather dubious intentions with their obsession and it's hard to read them.

At the same time however, they're very different from one another.

Michael Myers is often described as the embodiment of evil.

Despite this he still seems mostly human... except for the fact he can't die.

The Unknown is a being that can't be comprehended period.

The mere thought of it seems to summon it to the person.

It's vaguely human, its whole look an attempt to masquerade as a human.

It's a poor attempt.

I can see why they'd be paired in a rivalry...

Although I'm not quite sure how it would go.

They're certainly both observing yanderes.

They like to watch their obsession from afar.

There's a low chance the two would even see one another in 2v8...

But The Entity does enjoy suffering....

This is overall just... unfortunate for you as a survivor.

Not only do you have a notorious serial killer/legendary entity after you...

But you have somehow managed to make an eldritch horror interested in you too.

Maybe you thought about it too much.

Oddly enough, even in a match I feel The Unknown is skittish around Myers.

It just feels like it makes sense?

Maybe this other dark creature senses something off in Myers.

He certainly isn't a regular human.

Normally, if The Unknown felt a human was getting in the way of its obsession...

They'd be dead. Quickly.

But with Myers?

It seems oddly... cautious and careful.

You're going to struggle if these two are in a trial together.

The Unknown tends to attack from a distance while Myers stalks until he's ready to strike.

Myers is at least something you can comprehend.

Although... both of them manage to elude you most of the match.

They both find different prey before deciding to hunt their favorite prey.

By the time there's only a handful of survivors left, both begin to hunt you.

You most likely have had separate matches with both killers separately.

You are vaguely aware of their obsessive tendencies around you.

Which means you know in order for you to escape with the surviving Survivors, you need to be a diversion.

Most of your time through the trial becomes keeping both killers entertained.

Which, accidentally, makes you force them near one another.

The Unknown remains skittish until Myers makes his move.

Hell, the second you get downed it's every man for themselves.

The Unknown becomes more bold when Myers is distracted, cracking its way over to steal you somewhere secluded.

If you're lucky you can wiggle out of one of their grips and flee.

You can see the two fighting as Myers gets irritated.

Myers no doubt makes attempts at The Unknown to get it to back off, leading to it squealing as black ichor stains anything around it.

Although, persistent as ever, The Unknown knows how to cut you off.

They can't kill one another but they certainly are persistent in their goals.

The two know their time with you in matches is limited.

Which leads to them fighting more... allowing you the chance to escape.

This one trial between the two is Hell on its own.

You just hope you'll only have to deal with them alone for a bit...

Although, The Entity is quite pleased to see the two beings fight...

Maybe it will try this again, just to see what changes.

[bloodlustngore]

Go get your girl - Emily Prentiss

So I promised this yesterday but I literally rewrote half of it instead bcos I hated the way I wrote it, anyway it's finished now! I hope you all enjoy this, its been a while since I wrote for Emily, so bare with me if its bad :/

Summary: Tara convincing Emily to go get her girl :) Bcos shes tired of them not admitting it after seeing Emily rather jealous.

Warnings: None, just fluff (towards end)

You had been trying to focus at work all day, since this case that you and the team had uncovered about a network of serial killers. That must of formed as a way to communicate with each other during the pandemic. You'd been on a case today, but the unsub had killed himself, as Rossi stated the one in charge of this network was probably making them kill themselves once they were caught or if the team was getting close. 

Because whoever was in charge knew the FBI were now involved, well the BAU. Emily had been trying so hard to speak to the higher ups about this, everything unfortuntely had to go through tht annoying guy, Director Bailey. She's expressed her annoyance to you these last three days nd you don't blame her. 

It had gotten later and everyone decided to head home but contact each other if they had a theory or something else came up, like they usually do. You headed over to Emily's office, hoping that she wasn't too busy. 

Knocking on her door "come in" she says, with a sigh. She seemed rather annoyed, and again you wouldn't blame her. But now you felt bad that you were interrupting something. You opened the door and stepped in anyway. The moment Emily saw it was you, she looked up and gave you a smile. Her mood seemed to have completely changed whenever you've stepped into the room these passing few days, and honestly it was the same with you. 

The thing on your mind was probably something you shouldn't speak to your boss about but Emily was also a close friend and the two of you were always there for each other when needed. Hell, she called you nearly everyday when the pandemic hit, the whole team did sometimes. Considering neither of you could really see each other in person at that time. 

You tried to stay calm, but that went out of the window the moment you paced up and down in front of her desk. "Y/n, are you alright. Please sit down, you're going to give yourself a headache" Emily mentions, you sigh and stand still as best you could. 

"Whats on that beautiful mind of yours?" Emily smiled again. You tried to hide the fact you blushed a little when she said that, but it wasn't working well. Why were you going on this date when the woman you really want is right in front of you? Maybe because she doesn't feel the same, or because you can't exactly date someone you work with without many complications...or maybe its because an old friend set you up with this woman for this date tonight. And now it seems too late to cancel, because this woman was one of her friends, there wasn't even a spark with you the first time you met.

"Well first of all I wanted to check up on you. So, how're you doing Emily?" You asked, sitting on her desk in front of her. Emily let out a sigh of hesitation, and you knew she was clearly stressed about something, this case and the higher ups saying that they don't have enough evidence or leway, as Director Bailey has told her, again. 

"As good as I can be right now, this case and on top of trying to get good enough evidence of a serial killer network...its stressful but I can do it" Emily mentions. You give her a soft smile, sympathising with the older woman. God, shes so beautiful. You thought. You wished that you could just tell her how you felt. You're a grown adult why is it so hard?

"If anyone can do it, I know that you section chief Emily Prentiss can" you smiled, making Emily chuckle and also playfully roll her eyes at you. That file she was looking at? Completely forgotten about now, ever since you walked into the room in fact. Emily's attention was on you. 

"Em, if you're busy we can just talk later" you mention, realising. 

"I'm never too busy for you, Y/n. You know that. So whats going on?" Emily replies, questioning you again. 

"Its just that I have a date tonight, with this woman an old friend set me up with. I've met her once but theres just no spark between us, she seems to think so and I can't even cancel the date without feeling awful because shes been gushing to my friend about it. Its just theres someone else...and I can't get her off my mind" you admitted. 

Emily's expression changed, there seemed to be a hint of sadness in her eyes and although the older woman thought Y/n wouldn't notice, she certainly did. "Oh, you don't have to feel bad for wanting to cancel Y/n. Just text her and explain that you didn't feel anything and maybe just want to be friends." Emily adds. 

"But my friend set us up and I don't want to seem, disappointing, does that make sense?" you chuckled, you wanted to move on from Emily, even though she doesn't know you like her that way, but you also wanted to tell her. So what if you liked this other woman...but also still liked Emily? You'd feel awful because you know what your heart wants. 

"Then your friend isn't a very good friend if she feels that way about you wanting to cancel on this woman. Y/n, you're smart, caring, funny and not to mention beautiful." Emily mused, making you blush even harder. 

"Emily, stop." You chuckled, nervously. You so badly wanted to kiss Emily right now despite still being at work. "What, I'm just telling the truth" she chuckles, giving you a smirk. "Okay, I should go, can I text you tonight?" You asked. 

"Y/n, honey, you can text me anytime of the day" Emily smiles. "Okay, Em, I love you." You says, trying to make it sound friendly, when you really meant it as in 'I am very much in love with you' but you don't think the older woman caught on. When, really, she did. "I love you to, now go on that date" the 'I love you' was enthusiastic but the part about the date you were going on tonight didn't. Maybe Emily does love you, to some extent. She seemed upset about it nd now jealous. 

Tara was outside of Emily's office when you both exchanged those words. She stepped in to see Emily' look on her face, upset and jealousy was very visible on her right now. "What the hell was that?" Tara asked, seriously. 

"What do you mean 'what the hell' was that?" Emily replied, trying to play it off. Although the older silver-haired woman should know by now that Tara can read her expressions very well and tell what shes feeling when Y/n is involved. "You and Y/n. Emily. I'm not stupid, I can tell how you both feel about each other" Tara chuckles. 

"I don't have feelings for Y/n in that way" Emily says, but defensively. 

"Right." Tara adds. 

"I don't" Emily says, as a statement. "Emily if you love Y/n just tell her. I know it can be complicated considering you both work here and you're also one of her bosses. But its been so obvious these passed few years I've been here. The glances, the smiles, the way you hold her hand sometimes, or just hold her in your arms when she needs it. Y/n does all the same for you and its obvious." Tara mentions. Emily rolls her eyes at her, but she knew Tara was right. 

"Now please for the love of everything go kiss your girl" Tara chuckles. "Oh, did you also think that I didn't know about the time you and Y/n got so drunk you made out with her on Penelope' couch in front of her and JJ, and they had to tell you about it because neither of you could remember? Yeah, she told me about that, which was before I joined the team." Tara adds. 

"Of course she did. Tara, you know it isn't that simple." Emily adds, sadness in her voice. "It seemed to me when she walked out your door that she hoped you would stop her and do somethin'." Tara mentions. 

"Do us all a favour and go tell her already, if you don't its going to eat away at you and you will regret it. Because, Emily I know you." Tara adds. Emily sighs again, her friend is right she needs to tell her. Because if Emily doesn't tell Y/n now, she will regret it for the rest of her life and slowly have to watch Y/n fall in love with someone else, the way JJ did. She can't have that again. 

So, Emily stands up "Tara, I hate that you're right. I need to do this. So thank you." Emily chuckles. 

"You're welcome Emily, now hurry up. I say you have a minute before shes probably in her car." Tara adds. With that Emily quickly grabs her stuff and heads to the elevator. Pulling out her phone and texting Y/n. 

'Y/n, are you still in the parking lot?'

Y/n, texts back: 'Yeah, why whats up?'

'Stay there and go over to my car I'll be down in a minute' 

You waited for Emily by her car, you didn't bring yours as you got a lift from Luke earlier. So, if this was Emily offering you a ride home then you were grateful. You thought about texting her again until you felt a hand pull you, turning around it was Emily. And before you could even say anything, the older womans lips were against yours, kissing you, you tasted the hint of the vanilla lip balm she was wearing. 

You were shocked at first, not knowing what to do with yourself, but one thing you knew was that you didn't want to pull away. So, you kissed Emily back, with much more need to add to the already heated kiss. You were lucky the place was practically empty, with only Tara and Luke finishing some things up. 

Emily smirked into the kiss and then pulled away, you were catching your breath as best you could "wow" you breathed out. 

"Y/n I should have said this sooner, but I love you and way more than just a friend." Emily chuckled. Hoping that she wasn't too late now. 

"I love you too Emily, more than a friend" you added. You didn't give her anytime to speak as your lips connected with hers once again, and your back had hit the hood of her car. "Shit, Em we're going to set off your cars alarm" you chuckled as you kissed her. 

Emily pulled back again "I can forget that date with that person for sure, I'd much rather go on a date with you" you added. Knowing that you were now going to cancel that date with that other woman, Emily smiled. 

You cancelled that date, and then got into Emily' car with her. Emily looked at you with a smirk "so, how about we drive back to yours, you get some spare clothes, we order food and watch some movies?" Emily adds. 

You groaned "that sounds so much better than going to a fancy resturant. Especially since I'm doing this with you" you added. You felt Emily's hand on your thigh, as she squeezed it. If she puts her hand up any higher she is sure to notice how hot she made you feel. "The team is gonna all be like 'finally" Emily chuckles. 

"Yeah well it took us long enough" you laughed, making Emily agree with you on that. Only took them both a few years, but here they are finally admitting it in this moment.

[dross-the-fish]

Phantom Ramble

I think one of the reasons I'm personally so resistant to viewing Erik and Christine's relationship as a romantic one is due to the fact that for most of the book I don't fully trust Erik as a character and I can't imagine Christine does either. Erik has a pattern of creating himself, whether it's the phantom of the opera, the angel of music, or even "Erik" we never really find out who he is. He says he wants to be loved for himself but he never is himself. He keeps himself hidden out of fear of rejection. Not just on a physical level but on an emotional one as well.

The name he gives Christine "Erik" is a name he came upon "By accident" and I've seen some people mention that in earlier versions of the story, like the original newspaper in which it was serialized, Christine stated that Erik picked that name because it's Scandinavian and he was hoping to use it to get closer to her, which is definitely a thing he would do and if not for the fact that the Daroga also knew him as Erik in Persia I would agree that's the most likely explanation.

I've always felt strongly that Erik cannot be taken at his word. He strikes me as the type to say anything he has to say to get what he wants and he has grown so accustomed to wearing masks that he is unable to take them off. Even when he's physically unmasked he still can't bring himself to reveal who he really is. Perhaps because he doesn't really know anymore, he has become his masks. His deformity made it necessary to hide from the world and every angel, phantom, friend, teacher or father figure he became feels like had to be meticulously created so he could slip on the role and play the part convincingly enough to fool those around him. This includes Christine. I think he was hoping that Christine would be the one who could see past the performances and I don't think she's able to for the majority of the book. Even when she's fascinated by him or feels pity she never comes across as someone who really KNOWS him. That's not her fault he has, intentionally and unintentionally, made himself unknowable.

Even the Daroga doesn't really know Erik, he has more insight than most people but Erik is as much a mystery to him as to anyone else.

Erik's world is the theater and he is a perpetual actor in his own narrative. It's instinct for him to simply become whatever he needs to be to frighten people away or draw them closer and I don't think he knows how to stop doing that anymore. He's so distant from himself that views his real self as dead, the real him is nothing but a corpse.

I think that's also what makes the ending, the final unmasking so poignant to me because that's the moment when Erik, the living person, not the character, is seen for the first time. It's the mask coming off for real at last.

"I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears… and she did not run away!…and she did not die!… She remained alive, weeping over me, weeping with me. We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer"

What Christine offers him in this moment isn't what I interpret as romantic love it's acceptance, it's compassion, it's seeing him and understanding him. She gives him this when he least deserves it and I feel like this is what makes Erik's redemption meaningful. That his humanity is acknowledge in his darkest moment by the person he's hurt the most. That he is shown that much grace and kindness and that he lets her go without getting the romantic fulfillment he was trying to coerce from her will always be infinitely more touching to me than seeing them in a successful romantic relationship.

I think I also just get tired of seeing romantic love touted as some be-all-end-all redemptive healing force and the thing that could "fix" this character and give him a happy ending.

Again, not saying people can't or shouldn't write their fluffy comfortable or their dark twisted Eristine fics, by all means, have fun and enjoy what you do, but I feel like there's very little appreciation for the redemptive arc in the book that isn't viewed through a romantic lens.

[elvisabutler]

a pelvis and some milk walk into a bar

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley | austin butler rating: m pairing: elvis presley x reader x jerry schilling x sandy kawelo and any combo of those four you can manage word count: 4720 warnings: p in v sex ( unprotected ). foursome. double penetration. multiple orgasms. mild overstimulation. clit pinching. nipple play. marking/biting. oral ( female receiving. male receiving, implied future. ). fingering. clit play. bit of dirty talk. everyone kind of is really nebulous with their relationships in this. it's not cheating because everyone is consenting and present alright. author’s note: welcome to day 8 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, foursome with elvis presley x reader x jerry schilling x sandy kawelo. the person who requested this knows who they are and knows that i somehow cranked this out because they deserved it tonight before tomorrow. let me tell y'all this was an obscene amount of fun. i've said it once and i've said it before i do very much like writing threesomes/moresomes and this was no exception. literally when i open up requests again i can almost guarantee you that I'll probably bang it out rather quick. the title isn't quite accurate to the fic itself but no lie it's grown on me so much i couldn't bear to change it.

"Just because I've been staring at her doesn't mean I want to have sex with her, EP. I have— I have Sandy." Jerry attempts to argue against what Elvis has decided to propose in the car on the way to the studio. It's not that he hasn't thought about it, anyone with eyes has thought about having sex with you. But there's certain things you don't do when it comes to you and actively entertaining the idea that they'd ever get to have sex with you? Well that's one of those things you don't do, after all Red and George had thought about it once or twice and George had entertained it just a bit only to have Elvis bite off the DJ's head. No, Jerry knows better than to think you're even something obtainable, besides he was married and he loved his wife.

"And I have her. Milk, I'm offerin' ya a chance that all the boys'd die for and here ya are tellin' me ya ain't gonna take it," Elvis scoffs and steps just a little closer to Jerry. "My boy, if I didn't want ya touchin' her— if she didn't want ya touchin' her. I wouldn't be standin' here askin' and offerin'. Ya really gonna deny my wife her anniversary present?"



In that moment, Jerry feels the world tilt on its axis just a bit. Surely he hadn't heard his best friend of a decade say that he was being offered to his wife as an anniversary present. Jerry wishes he could say that he's entirely surprised, after all, what do you get a woman who's married to Elvis Presley? The man— while a serial womanizer, a fact Jerry still can't believe some days— is arguably what every woman wants in a man and is someone who spoils her rotten. What do you get that sort of woman? Nothing material— no, gifts have to come from the heart for a woman like her. A realization hits Jerry like a ton of bricks and he's certain it's written all over his face the moment it happens. He was the gift. He was supposed to be the gift for you. A flush of desire courses through him as the idea settles fully in his mind. You want him and were obvious enough that Elvis felt the need to ask him this and to offer him up as an option. It's not that he doesn't love Sandy but a chance to have the unattainable is a heady proposition.



"She—you're not just testing me, are you?" Tricking is what Jerry means to say, knowing fully well that it just might be something Elvis is willing to do and yet as he stares at one of— if not his best friend he sees no trace of mocking or jest in them. Only pure unadulterated honesty.



"Jer—" Elvis starts before putting his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I'd joke and tease and test anyone else wit' this. Not you. The missus would kill me if I tried. Both of 'em maybe, cause boy she is capable of whipping your woman into a damn frenzy I don't wanna be on the end of. Bein' completely honest. She— Told her whatever she wanted I'd get. And she came up to me with *that*. I'd be offended if she didn't remind me 'm her husband and that she might like ya and find ya attractive but she's married to me."



There's a few words on the tip of Jerry's tongue about how Elvis can't control his own urges despite being married to you but he stops them, biting the inside of his cheek before he finds the words to speak. "So what— What exactly does she want?"



"Both of us," He answers simply, as if it's a completely normal thing to say. "Didn't press on the exact details, figured we could— uh— figure 'em out when we get to it. Might wanna have us both inside, I dunno. It's her gift, she calls the shots."



The image Elvis is painting, of you taking both of them inside you, their cocks stretching you has his pupils dilating and has his breathing shifting just that little bit earning a grin from Elvis. "You— I gotcha thinkin' 'bout it, Milk, don't I? That's you sayin' yes, ain't it?"



Jerry shakes his head as if that will clear the vision from his mind's eye only to make it worse, his mind conjuring images of your breasts in his hands and of you moaning and whimpering as his thumbs brushed against your nipples and as Elvis and him took turns sucking hickies against your neck and chest. Maybe you'd even be kissing his wife— come to think of it— 



"You think she'd mind if I brought Sandy along?" Jerry asks, mildly unsure that she'd go with it and yet wanting the vision in his mind's eye to come to fruition. Nevermind that he'd still have to talk his wife into it and ask her but it never hurts to ask ahead of confirmation.



Elvis's face lights up as he leans closer and laughs. "Wouldn't be the first time she'd've kissed 'nother woman durin' somethin' like this. Don't think she would." Elvis pauses. "So I can tell her she can get her present?"



Jerry can't help the way he sighs, shutting his eyes when he answers. A part of him feels like he might regret this later. But the temptation of you and the realization that he'd be the only person in Elvis's circle who would have actually touched you and felt how you kissed and how your breasts felt in his hand and how your vagina felt gripping his cock forces that regret deep down inside his mind.



"Yeah, you can tell her."

As it turns out, Sandy was okay with going along with this. Something about how she could keep an eye on the two of them and make sure that you were safe. Not that she truly thought either one of them would hurt you but in the heat of the moment she knows Jerry can be passionate and you've borne the marks of Elvis's own passion more times than she cares to count. You are her friend she'd never live with herself if she didn't at least make sure this ended well for everyone involved.



Truthfully, that's why you go to her first and pull her in for a kiss. The two of you had talked about this ahead of time, you wanted your respective husbands inside of you but if she was going to be here, you wanted her to be a willing participant and you wanted her to know that you loved her or at least liked her enough to make sure she was equally as involved. It was your anniversary but Jerry is her husband. She smiles into the kiss, laughing softly when she pulls away.



"I think they're enjoying the show," she comments, wrapping her arms around your neck before turning to Elvis and Jerry. "I didn't agree to this only to have this be a show for you two. Get up."



Elvis stays sitting as Jerry stands up and moves to you without missing a single beat. You can't see him approach but you can hear his soft footsteps against the carpet and the way his breathing hitches just so the more he takes in your only clad in underwear body. Your breasts are pressed against Sandy's own but you feel her move back just a bit at the same time you feel Jerry's warm breath against your neck. His hands hands move to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing against the nipples as he places feather soft kisses against your neck.



"Just wanted to make sure she was comfortable," he defends himself against your ear even though he's talking to Sandy. "Do you feel comfortable?"



A soft whimper leaves your lips as his mouth closes around your earlobe after the word comfortable and you watch as Sandy bites her lip in a mixture of arousal and amusement. "That's a dirty trick, Jerry, you're turning her into putty before she can answer."



"That's the point," Elvis interjects from his spot on the chair. "She wanted this, told her it might be a bit much but— what my girl wants, my girl gets. Ain't that right, darlin'."



You hum in acknowledgement, your toes curling in the carpet as your nipples pebble and your breath comes out shaky. Words finally come to you as you try and move your head to kiss Jerry. "I'm more than comfortable. I— More."



The grip on your breasts tightens and you keen ever so softly even as Sandy tries to swallow it with another kiss. The sensations make it hard to focus on any one thing even as your mind tries to cling to something. What it finally settles on is the rustle of what you think is Elvis getting off the chair and moving toward you. You wait to feel him next to you, wait to have him pull you in for a kiss before you realize that he's not doing that. You can feel the heat of his body against your arm for the briefest of moments before you feel it against your leg. Sandy's moved to the side of you, breaking your kiss only to have her lips replaced with Jerry's finally claiming yours with a nip and an insistent tongue. It's then that you feel the cold bite of Elvis's rings against your overheated thighs and you whine against Jerry's lips, the temperature difference forcing you to wrench your lips away to look down at Elvis on his knees, trying to make your stance just a little wider. His grin when he looks up at you is practically wolfish as he sneaks a glance at your underwear.



"Barely been touched and ya drippin'. Makin' a mess of these panties. Wanna show 'em what they've done to you already?" His voice is practically a coo as his fingers start to play with the edges of your panties as you feel someone's hand— Sandy's maybe— ghost over your hip, sliding them down as best as they can. When they're loose enough Elvis moves his head to your cunt nuzzles through the fabric before taking the fabric in his teeth and yanking them down. Your mouth opens to say something before you feel his fingers slip inside you, curling just so in the way you enjoy. Jerry takes the opportunity to kiss you once again and kiss down your neck and to your shoulder. "He's got to make sure you can take it."



Your eyes roll in the back of your head for a moment as Jerry shifts just enough to press his cock against your now bare ass and to kiss Sandy over your shoulder. After a moment you speak. "Take what?"



An idea of what is in your mind but you don't dare voice the possibility. The thought that they're going to do that to you has your mind whirling and your cunt clenching around Elvis's fingers, earning a hiss from him. "Spoilin' the surprise, Milk."



"Warning her ahead of time, E," he counters, looking down at Elvis who in a fit of childish annoyance sticks his tongue out. Somewhere deep inside your mind you can't help but laugh at the interaction. It's helped by Sandy actually letting out a soft laugh even as she looks at you as if to say men. You try to mirror the look only to have Jerry nip at your neck and Elvis nip at your thigh.



The warring sensations of their teeth has you shutting your eyes and biting on your lip to keep quiet only for you to feel Jerry's hand move down between your legs and feel his thumb brush up against your clit gathering some of your wetness. You want to ask him what he's doing but it's then that you feel his thumb on your lip, pressing against it to try and get you to stop biting your lip. After a moment you open your lips ever so slightly and Jerry allows you to taste yourself on his thumb and starts to pull his hand away only to have you run your tongue along the entire of his thumb, sucking just slightly. You finally let it go with a small pop as you open your eyes. They flit down to Elvis where he's looking up at you with something akin to lust and love all at once. You're his wife and you're showing off just how much of a minx you are to one of his best friends and to your own best friend. Elvis's eyes stay on yours as he starts to tongue at your clit, watching the pleasure start to cross your face. He briefly looks over at Jerry before you manage to stutter out a question.



"Warning me 'bout wha? Wha are you two gonna do?" Since your mind figures it's something nefarious the boys have cooked up versus them and Sandy. Elvis's fingers curl once again as his tongue moves down, licking at your walls like a man starved. His face burrows in between your legs, focusing on his task at hand and ignoring the question, leaving Jerry to answer it. Jerry's hand moves to cup your cheek and pull you in for another kiss as Sandy runs her hands across your waist.



"Elvis thinks you can take us both at the same time. You just need to be prepared. Since we're both large." As if to emphasize the point Jerry's hips grind against your ass once more. "He's got a lot of faith in you and I do too. You want it, don't you? That's what this was about? Getting us together? Having us inside you while my wife plays with your chest? Or kisses you in between us kissing you?"



Against your neck you feel his breathing shift, almost as if the image he's painting is winding him up. One of his hands moves to your hip and tightens only to have Elvis’s grip on your thighs tighten as well. You let out a groan and one of your hands slides down your torso, waiting for one of the three of them to stop it. They don't and your hand finds purchase in Elvis’s hair, your fingers lacing themselves through his locks until you have enough you can grab and yank as his tongue practically fucks you and as his fingers— those calloused digits pinch lightly at your clit. Words fail you as he continues his onslaught and as you feel two sets of eyes watching you slowly come apart from just hit tongue and his fingers alone. Elvis starts to pull away only for you to use your grip on his hair to force his face back into your cunt. He still removes his fingers, earning a whine from you that's quietly shushed away by both Jerry and Sandy's soft whispers against your ear.



"We've got you," they whisper as you feel their fingers— when had any of their hands moved down— against your clit, alternating between his rough ones and her soft ones. It's as if you're being teased with gentle loving and rough fucking all at once and despite your best efforts, you feel your head lolling backwards against Jerry's shoulder, the coil in your lower abdomen reaching such a height of tension that you feel your legs start to shake and try to tighten by Elvis's head. You need relief and no one is giving you just enough to make it happen. A whimper leaves your lips as you pull at Elvis's hair in a way he knows well. That yank always serves as a plea, a simple request that you'd be begging for if your mouth would just work. You can feel tears of want prickling at your eyes before you feel Elvis swat away both Sandy's and Jerry's hand and replaces them with his own, his fingers taking your swollen little nub and rubbing and touching just so before he allows his mouth to cover it and suck.



You reach your peak with a silent scream at the sensation, at the final missing piece finally clicking into place. Despite your best efforts you feel your body start to tremble just a bit as Jerry wraps his arms around you and allows you to lean against him even as his cock twitches against your behind. Sandy's hand reaches to pet his cock between the two of you and you hum in delight. Your chest rises and falls with shaky breaths as Elvis finally pulls away and looks up at you on his knees with his face covered in your cum. No words are said before Jerry nuzzles at your hair and Sandy kisses your neck, her free hand pinching a nipple of yours and your hand doing the same in kind to her.



"E, you're not good at sharing." Jerry says it as a tease, even as your arousal is on his fingers, waiting to be tasted by him or his wife.



Elvis shrugs, and moves to stand up. "So?"



Feeling an argument brewing you reach out to palm Elvis's cock before wrapping your hand around it and murmuring something incoherent before shaking your head to focus. "Don't ruin my present, 'vis. I want this, not just them watchin' us. Please."



Any other time and you might cringe at how your voice sounds as you say please but it has the desired effect in making Elvis sigh and has him giving Sandy the softest of kisses while giving Jerry a look as if to say go on now, get. That look spurs something in Jerry and that arm that had been around your waist, pulling you closer to him moves away. You start to sputter out your displeasure until you realize he's turning you around and taking your hand off of Elvis's cock and putting it on his. The sensation is different, not unwelcome but different and you experimentally move your hand up and down, marveling in how there's already so much precum that your hand practically glides against his cock. His eyes don't leave yours even though he wants to commit the way your hand looks and feels against his cock but there's something in your eyes that forces him to stare at them instead. To take in the wonder and arousal so present in them that he thinks they might be the most important part of everything. If Sandy notices his preoccupation with your eyes she doesn't comment on it and instead busies herself with touching you in all the spots that have your toes curling just so against the carpet.



"Milk. Ya oughta go first. Stretch her some more so she can take it," Elvis pauses and shares a look with Sandy. "Don't have to, darlin' but ya wanna watch him sink into her? Watch her take 'im?"



Sandy allows herself a moment to think, gulping as she does before she shakes her head. "I'm okay not looking. That's— I think the three of you would enjoy that more than me." it's the first time she's expressed some hesitation with this and somehow that penetrates your brain enough that you reach out to grab your best friend's hand and squeeze. She squeezes back after a moment before looking at Jerry and nodding. "Go on, honey, show my best friend what I married."



You see a hint of a smile cross Jerry's face before he looks at you and starts to move everyone closer to a bed. There's a questioning look from everyone before he shrugs. "It'll be more comfortable? I don't want to fuck standing up." As if it's the most obvious thing in the world. It doesn't take but a moment before Jerry is lowering you onto the bed and taking his cock in his hand. It's smaller than Elvis's but not by much and you find your mouth salivating just a hair as he pumps his cock and starts to move closer and closer until the tip his brushing against your already swollen clit. Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you hear Elvis's breathing deepen and hear what sounds like several curse words leave his mouth. Every brush feels as if an electric shock is buzzing through your body from your clit and your hands move to grasp at Jerry, only to be stopped by both Sandy and Elvis. It's cruel, the way they hold your hands away from Jerry but it allows him to shush your anger and your whines. "Just watch what I'm doing."



Focus on how his cock is finally parting your folds and slipping in bit by bit. There's a slight burn but it's gone in a flash when he finally bottoms out, a groan and a grunt leaving him all at once. He doesn't move for a minute, trying to keep himself together and make sure you're alright before you finally whimper out a word. "Move."



Fuck me, you mean, but you figure he understands from the way your cunt clenches around him as you say it. You hear Sandy make a joke about Jerry being good at following directions as you start to feel Jerry's cock sliding out of you, only to have him thrust once more. Your eyes try to focus on the vision of him sliding in and out of you only to have them drift up to his face, watching as it contorts with each thrust.



"Christ, EP, this— she's— what is she doing with— Keep doing that and I'm gonna—" He starts before his eyes flit between the three of you and he starts to pull out only to have you try and move your legs to stop him. "I can't cum inside—"



Elvis stops him with a growl even as he's pumping his own cock, his thumb running across his slit and playing with his foreskin. "She needs to be drippin'. Jus' this once, Jer. We'll figure it out if anythin' happens."



A quick nod from both you and Sandy puts Jerry at ease and has him sinking into your tight heat once more. Sandy's hand moves in between your bodies and rubs at your clit when Jerry's cock doesn't brush against it. You feel your orgasm starting to creep up on you, the second one in less than an hour and you want to cry in a mix of anguish and pleasure and it seems as if it's written all of your face. Words fail you and yet they don't fail the other three even as they pant around your body, and Sandy plays with her own cunt, almost a little lazily. They can't help but tell you a simple phrase that sounds like a demand.



"Let yourself go." Three little words have you arching against Jerry, hips chasing after his cock and cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch and feel his thrusts slow down as a warmth fills you. His hands move to grip your hip, wide and unyielding as he guides you back down onto the bed and slowly pulls out, ignoring the groan of displeasure at the loss of his cock. His eyes watch his handiwork, marveling at how his cum drips out of you and how your chest heaves from the effort you've already expended. Sandy moves to pull him in for a kiss and your hand, shaky as it is moves to curl your fingers in her cunt and play with her clit a little, determined to allow her that little extra bit of fun.



As Jerry watches you see out of the corner of your eye his cock rising back to attention only for him to slip it back inside you, the pleasurable shocks starting to be almost painful before you glance at Elvis's cock. He shoots you a grin as he maneuvers you partially into Jerry's lap. Any other time and he'd make sure you were facing him but tonight he'll allow you to look at Jerry when you come for a third time. His fingers move to play with your clit, apologizing to Sandy who had moved her fingers to try and continue her own onslaught against you. The familiar calluses have a calming effect on you, allowing your body to relax around Jerry and Elvis watches as your cunt flutters around Jerry's cock for a moment before lining himself up and pushing just the tip in. All four of you let out a groan at nearly the same time, the pressure of just Elvis's tip threatening to rip you apart even if you know it's not. The adjustment takes a minute or two of no movement before he inches in bit by bit, stopping to feel you cunt clench and stopping to watch Jerry play with Sandy's cunt and your chest. When he's finally seated fully inside, he allows you to find a comfortable position between him and Jerry.



"Wanna bounce." You say, trying to say you want to bounce on their cocks, as illogical as that is. You just want the experience of it, want to prove you can do it and Jerry kisses your lips hungrily as he kneads your chest and watches Elvis suck a love bite or five onto your neck. His hands grip your hip and without much warning he moves you in the way you would if you were to bounce on their separate cocks. Elvis lets out a punched out moan and bites at your shoulder.



"Goddammit Milk, got her grippin' me tighter than she ever did. Gonna fuckin' burst in a damn minute." Elvis grunts, as he thrusts into you. His voice lowers and you hear dirty words and phrases that are for only the two of you and you find yourself burrowing your face against Jerry's shoulder in embarrassment. You can hear the squishing and squelching of your cum and Jerry's cum and everyone's precum with every thrust and you whine, wanting more and less all at once. That knot in your stomach, that spring of arousal tightens more and more with every passing thrust and every whispered word of praise and every breathy sigh you hear your best friend make.



"Doin' so good." Elvis whispers against your ear, relishing in the way you shiver. "Gonna cum a third time 'fore we fill ya completely up? Clench 'round us and milk us dry? Know ya can do it, darlin'."



"I can. Wanna do it. I can do it." You pant, words starting to slur and feeling more like gibberish as you go on repeating yourself. "Gonna feel you two for days. Love you so much."



You meaning everyone in the room, but you don't dare say the words, instead allowing that spring to snap as you hear Jerry whisper, "good girl." You come with a scream wrenched from the depths of your soul, that you swear starts a cascade of everyone cumming after you do, with Elvis being the last one to release inside you with grunts of praise and love confessions. Both you and Jerry fall on top of Elvis and Sandy flops next to the three of you as you all try to catch your breath. Your hand moves to play with Jerry's chest hair and Elvis's as Sandy strokes your hair.



After what feels like a lifetime Jerry starts to pull out of you ever so slowly, earning a low hiss from you and Elvis as your cunt is now bereft of his cock filling you. He flops next to Sandy and pulls her in for a kiss filled with love and what you think might be gratitude before setting his head on her chest. Your own head settles onto Elvis's chest, taking in the quiet thump thump thump of his heart that overwhelms your senses so completely that you nearly miss his words.



"You're stayin' here tonight. Might— might need 'nother round. Gotta make sure we're all leavin' happy tonight. 'sides, Milk, think she was droolin' for ya cock, or Sandy's beaver. You both good?"



You wait for one of them to say no and instead you get an answer that has you grinning against Elvis's chest. "Anything for her."

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @amydarcimarie, @justrae9903, @thegettingbyp2, @stylespresleyhearted i know i am missing people but i am unsure whom at this point also apologies if this isn't your cup of tea.

[nostalgebraist]

state of the book

(Attention conservation notice: long, kinda navel-gazey. There are some specifics at the start and end.)

There are 7 chapters remaining in Almost Nowhere.

I'm about halfway through writing the first of those. The current plan is to post that first chapter when I'm done with it, and then stop with the serial updates until I've written all of the remaining six. Then, I'll post those all at once.

----

When I got near enough to the end of writing Floornight, it got frustrating to write in a new way.

The fact that I wasn't just done already was agonizing. Once the finish line got close enough for me to see, the remaining distance felt like it was taunting me.

How did I react? I let it go on for a little while, and then one evening I said "you know what, fuck it, let's get this over with." And I sat down and wrote the last two chapters.

I wrote them with the attitude of a checked-out high school senior racing through his last homework assignment. I wrote them unusually fast, with less "quality control" than usual, and with less passion for the story itself than for the idea of just getting it over with already.

----

When I got near enough to the end of writing The Northern Caves, it got frustrating to write in a new way.

The fact that I wasn't just done already was agonizing. Etc, etc.

I let it go on for a little while, and then one evening I said "you know what, fuck it, let's get this over with."

And I sat down and wrote the last five chapters, in one evening. Unusually fast, with less "quality control" than usual, etc., etc.

I often drink a bit when I'm writing, but I drank more than usual that evening. A checked-out senior, already mentally on summer break. Fuck it. Just get it over with.

----

I have now reached this point of ending-related frustration with Almost Nowhere.

I'm not going to do the "fuck it, let's end this tonight" thing a third time, though.

The endings of my earlier 2 novels were, uh ... not ideal, in a lot of ways. Some of those are related to plot and structure, and can't really be blamed on the way I kind of gave up 90% of the way though.

But there's a weird, sudden, desultory, incompletely sketched feel to those endings that I'm sure was a result of the way they were produced. It wasn't some necessary implication of the broader construction. It was just that I gave up.

And I can just ... not do that. And get a better last part of the book out of it. And then it'll be there, forever, in its better state.

----

(I think this frustration largely stems from serial writing?

Thanks to the peak-end rule [among other factors], endings are pretty important. But the further you go in a serial, the more constrained you are.

No matter how much you plan ahead, there's always some maneuvering room, some opportunities to be creative on the fly, to surprise and delight yourself.

This decreases monotonically as you get further along. You feel less and less like you're creating something in the big, exciting, easily romanticized sense of that word, and more and more like you're doing the yeoman work of painting in fine details between pre-established lines and keyframes.

The upside risk declines faster than the downside risk. In the middle of a serial, you can always fantasize about how great the remaining parts will be -- great in ways you might not ever have expected! And you're not wrong: there ARE things you'll only invent later, which you'll feel proud of, and will be unable to imagining lacking once you've made their acquaintance.

As you near the end, this potential goes away. But there is still the need to paint in between those sketchy lines and keyframes. If you do this very well, the result will be simply as you have imagined it -- not superior to your current vision, in some heretofore-unimagined manner, but only what you already have in mind, ably executed. However, there is still the possibility of severe failure: those painted details could go very wrong indeed. There is a ceiling, now -- but there is still no floor.

That's why I have trouble with endings, I think. But it's no excuse for not doing them well. It's hard, but many things are hard. I simply need to not give up.)

----

Long story short, I really want to be done with the book!! This is eating away at me, every day.

Unfortunately, this year continues to be mildly cursed as far as writing is concerned.

I'm finally (I think? fingers crossed??) coming out of the depressive funk that has afflicted me for most of the year.

In its place, the new problem is that I'm sleeping terribly. I've been sleeping terribly, consistently, for at least a few weeks now.

At first it was due to the sun rising earlier. We blacked out the bedroom windows again, but now my circadian rhythm is all messed up, giving the problem its own momentum even after the removal of the initial stimulus. Presumably it'll improve over time.

(Maybe the sleep deprivation actually helped with the depression? That has been known to happen.)

So I'm in this kind of weird state w/r/t the book.

I have a strong emotional motivation to go as quickly as possible.

I also have a strong emotional motivation to "stick the landing," and not feel like I'm giving up 90% of the way through.

I keep finding myself in states where I can't easily produce writing that feels like "sticking the landing," and certainly can't produce it very quickly.

(Probably I need to just take better care of myself, in all sorts of ways, and then the other problems would work themselves out.

That goes against all the instincts I learned in school, of course: you get the final projects and exams over with first, and you "take care of yourself" after -- not the other way around, silly! But I have not been in school for a long time, and should start acting like it.)

Just to be clear, I'm not posting this out of a desire for people to tell me that it's #valid for me to take as long as I need, and to reassure me that I don't need to rush for my (tiny) readership. I believe that all already, and appreciate it. But the impetus to go fast is coming from me, not from any idea about my audience.

----

Some qualitative statistics.

I keep track of (chapters written / time) and also (words written / time).

Both of these have their flaws, but I think the latter is more meaningful overall. Mere verbosity is no virtue, but one does need to write more words when there's a lot that needs to happen, and chapters very in eventfulness.

My average words-per-time rate over the "third act" of AN has been about 60% what it was during the fast period in 2022, when I wrote most of the "second act."

For what it's worth -- which is disputable -- that slower rate is still faster than my average rate over the entirety of TNC. But of course TNC was a lot less wordy.

(I don't know how I expected to write the whole book in 2022. Well, I do, but it involved absurdly optimistic assumptions about the "third act." The conceit was a useful kick in the ass, though.)

A somewhat optimistic extrapolation, using this rate and the average chapter word count in "act 3," says I will take around 5-6 months to write the remaining 7 chapters.

5-6 months is ... actually not that big a hiatus, by my standards! (That says more about "my standards" than anything, but still.)

It does feel absurdly long, though, emotionally. Emotionally, I feel like I ought to be done, like, next week. Come on, it's so close, just "get it over with" --

On a practical level, I'm a little worried about the size of the planned 6-chapter final block. Less from the length of the pause involved, and more due to the possibility of losing momentum... I guess. Maybe I'm spoiled by the immediate feedback of serial release.

I guess I could shrink the size of the final bunch and push out serial release for long. None of that will matter in the long run anyway, for "archival readers." The current plan feels structurally right, though.

----

I set aside the entirety of the past weekend for writing. I worked as hard as I could, and got ~5000 words of the next chapter. It still feels less than half done, honestly.

I was aware that the words were coming less easily than usual, due to my sleep debt.

On Monday evening, after sleeping very badly, I tried to continue, and did write a bit more. I quickly had to admit, though, that I was simply too tired for my brain to make words of the desired quality at any usable rate. So I stopped.

I have a strong emotional motivation to go as quickly as possible. "As quickly as possible" is currently pretty slow. I'll do what I can to improve that.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

i always love stories w different povs, in the canon you didn't really get to see how quinn affected everyone else. baaabe and angel are unempowered, like I could not imagine the stress that both of them must have been going thru- they've been told theres a psycho serial killer vampire on the loose who might be coming for the shaw pack and they're just going to their 9-5????? no?????????? i like how you described how small everything became for someone like angel, they had to be confined to 10-19, they slept, ate and worked there, that would fucking drive me insane.

AAAAAASSSSHHHHHHH, save me gentle but assertive asher, gentle but assertive asher if you can hear me please,,,,,,, im so happy he told them, ash is the type of friend that would never keep something like that away from them, the guilt would eat him alive

GUY AND ANGEL AS SIBLINGS YEAAAAAAHHHHHHHH LETS FUCKING GOOO U GET IT 🫵🫵🫵🫵 but fr tho angel has/is going THROUGHT IT,, please let them relax for 5 seconds,,,,, pls let them sleep with their husband it's all they want

THIS DUDE IS FUCKING EVERYWHERE

them crossing their legs ooh im unwell, how do you write his creepy ass dialogue so well

and angel being "nice" as a defense mechanism is so real- u ever have a man come up and talk to you and you just get this feeling that if you upset him or say the "wrong thing" he's gonna do something to you,,, lemme tell you it's not fun at all. you're just overcome w this paralyzing feeling and you feel yourself shrinking into prey, thats what I felt reading their convo holy shit dude

DAVID YOU FUCKING BASTARD YOU COULDVE ENDED THIS WHOLE THING HE LET HIM GO???? HE FUCKING LET HIM GO????? HELLO?? ARE WE STILL TALKING ABOUT THE SAME QUINN??? MOTHERFUCKER WHY DIDNT YOU RAM IT INTO HIS SKULL- put me in the next chapter and give me free range i need to show these bitches how it's done. i never thought david could disappoint me, YALL DIDNT EVEN APPREHEND HIM OR NOTHING???? CALL THE COPS????? CALL COLM??????? IM NEVER GETTING OVER THIS HE LET HIM GO FOR REAL BRO WHAT nahhhh darlins about to crash the fuck out im so mad rn

im done

-🦀

CRAB ANON!!!!! Bro I knew as I was writing this that would piss you off. I promise David has his reasons!! All will be revealed eventually!!

Bro the hostage situation that abusive people can put you into is SUCH AN INTERESTING THING!!!! Part of the reason that Quinn's cruelty is particularly vile is that it lingers even when he isn't there. He has a sort of mystic, supernatural quality about him even in this fully human form. He seems to be all powerful, always lingering, always in the right place to terrorize the right person left vulnerable. The thing is that he actually isn't. Quinn isn't following around each member of the crew at all times, but what is following them is the knowledge that he COULD BE!! He haunts people. A mortal ghost, breathing down necks. One of my favorite moments in the story is the moment that Freelancer feels like they're being watched at the end of the Thanksgiving chapter. There is no way for them or the audience to know if that was Quinn or their imagination or any of their other ghosts. He haunts the narrative!! He haunts the characters!!! He haunts you, the audience!!!

Angel's going crazy. Who can blame them???

Asher!! Bro I live by Asher being a good leader and an even better friend. He won't keep the truth from people to save their feelings, and he very honestly trusts them. He trusts them not to run, not to put themself in danger. That's not something David can say.

I'm so glad you noticed the leg crossing. Very intentional.

YES!!! THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT THIS IS!! So fun fact Trevor is actually based on a coworker I had when I worked in food service. I think we've all met a slimy, terrible man who makes it clear, whether by obvious or underhanded threats of violence, that you can't say no to him. That the safest thing you can do is play nice. It's a trick, it's never really safe, but Angel has survived this long doing so.

And again, David has his reasons for not killing Quinn right then and there. More shall be revealed soon!!!

[a-dirty-secret]

Johnny's Girl - Part 16

tw: dub/non-con, hematolagnia, dacryphilia, blood, violence, stalking, rough sex

You were out back, laying alone in the bed of an old truck that Johnny had previously filled with blankets and pillows. He'd picked up food from a diner you'd mentioned before and set it up in the back of the truck. You'd mentioned it being your ideal type of date, and of course Johnny remembered.

It quickly became one of your favorite places, so Johnny wasn't surprised to find you there. "Hey, been waitin' for ya'. Why didn't you tell me you were comin' out here?"

"I wanted to give you some time with any new whores you have locked in the basement." You say bitterly.

"You ever gonna let this go? I dunno what you want me to do about it, I keep tellin' you it won't happen again."

You sit up and glare at Johnny. "Maybe I should go out and let some guy stick his cock inside of me. Let him cum inside of me. Then we can have a competition to see who lets it go first."

Johnny reaches out and grabs you by the shirt, yanking you out of the bed of the truck. One hand keeps a tight grip of your shirt, the other grips your jaw tightly. "You. Belong. To. Me." He says through gritted teeth.

"See? You can barely even handle the thought of it."

He releases his grip and takes a step back as you rub your jaw. "It's not the same." He says, avoiding your gaze.

"How is it not the same?! Am I your girlfriend or your victim?! I hate to fucking break it to you, but in an ACTUAL relationship, it's a two-way street Johnny."

"Oh, you feel like a fuckin' victim?! Maybe I should tie you up and throw you back in the basement!"

"Don't avoid the actual point, Johnny!"

"I said I won't do it again, what more do you want from me?!"

"Oh, excuse me for thinking the cheating, cannibalistic serial killer may have a hard time keeping his word!"

"If that's all I am to you then why are you even here?!"

"BECAUSE YOU WON'T LET ME LEAVE!"

With that Johnny turns, lighting a cigarette as he walks away. You sigh, getting back into the bed of the truck. The truth is, you had a hard time planning out an escape, because you couldn't bear the thought of leaving Johnny. In your mind that fact further confirmed that getting out was necessary.

Johnny walked to the front of the house and sat on the steps as pain radiated through his body. He felt like he was losing you. He had to figure something out, some way to make it up to you.

The door opened and Sissy poked her head out. "Your mama's on the phone, sugar!"

Johnny got up and made his way to the phone. "Hey mama."

"Johnny, I need some help over here. There's been some people snoopin' around and I can't handle it by myself. Need you to make your way over here first thing in the morning."

"I... Yes ma'am."

"You what? You got somethin' to say? Don't wanna leave your little whore all by her lonesome?"

"I'll be there." He says, hanging up the phone. His mama would yell at him for that when she saw him, but he didn't care. He sighed, heading through the house and making his way back to you.

He got in the bed of the truck and sat there silently for a few moments. "I don't know if you give a damn, but I gotta leave to go to my mama's tomorrow." A few more moments pass before he speaks again. "Look, I know it don't make it better, but I wish I could take it back. I never felt like a monster until I hurt you."

You sit up and move to Johnny's side. He links his fingers with yours as you rest your head on his shoulder. "How long will you be gone?"

"I dunno. Hopefully only about a week. I don't much like the thought of being away from you for longer than I have to be."

"Don't worry, Sissy will still be here to babysit me." You say flatly.

"Goddamn it, I can't say nothin' to you! I just wanted to spend one more night with you before I left, but it's clear you don't want me around. I'll just leave now, make it easier for ya'." He gets up and makes his way to the house.

You sit, unmoving, watching him walk away. Johnny being gone would give you the perfect opportunity to escape, so letting him walk away without even one more kiss...

"Johnny, wait!" He stops, turning around and crossing his arms.

You walk up to him and place your hands gently on his arms. He lowers them, allowing you to close the distance between you as your arms wrap around his neck. He kisses you tenderly, pulling you against him tightly.

"C'mon, we'll have a private going away party." You say with a wink, grabbing his hand and leading him back to the truck.

*** You woke up to the sunrise the next morning, a sense of dread filling your chest. Johnny ate breakfast quickly, letting the family know he was going to be leaving. Far too soon you're following him out the door and to his truck. You quickly run in front of him and lean against the drivers side door.

"Not gonna let me leave, huh?" He says with a smirk, wrapping his arms around you.

"I'm gonna miss you, Johnny..." You say quietly.

"Don't worry darlin', I'll be back before you know it." He says, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and placing a soft kiss on your lips before you step aside. You watch him drive away until his truck is no longer in view, then make your way inside to start your chores.

*** You were quiet for the next couple of days. Sissy assumed it was because you missed Johnny, but she was only partially right. Escaping should be easy, you'd gone over it in your head a thousand times. They didn't trust you enough to give you keys to the property, but it wasn't difficult for you to find something to pick the lock with while you were cleaning.

You sat in the bed of truck, staring at the house. It was a dark and cloudy night, perfect conditions. Feeling like you'd laid there long enough, you quickly and quietly make your way to the back gate and begin working on the lock. Your hands shake as the lock finally gives way.

You turn off the battery that's electrifying the exit and run. You run for what feels like hours until you reach a road you recognize, then continue running. Just as your legs are about to give out, you make it to your house. You open the door and collapse on the floor, tears streaming down your face as you desperately try to catch your breath.

You force yourself to stand on shaky legs, knowing you need to get on the road as soon as possible. As much as you'd like to stay here, you knew it wasn't possible. You grab a flashlight from a drawer in the kitchen and head for your bedroom. You grab a bag and throw in some clothes before reaching your hand behind the bottom dresser drawer. You let out a sigh of relief when you find your savings right where you left them.

You put the money in the bag and rush to the car, thankful you'd just filled up the tank before finding yourself in the Sawyer basement. You start it up and get on the road. You didn't know where you were going, but for the first time in a long time, you were free.

[ducknotinarow]

Serial Killer Casey and Raph - Fatal Blow Meme

Casey hadn't meant to hit them that hard, hadn't meant to lose it with Raphael. He was always so good when it came to his temper and his lover. The lover he kept locked up and safe from the World. But they hadn't gotten mouthy, threatened to escape, threatened to take him down.

He had to remind them of their place. Had to get them to understand, he only wanted to keep them safe...needed to keep them safe. He couldn't lose them again.

He gripped his hockey stick tight, his blue eyes piercing through them, near daring them to move. They didn't. Good.

"See...aint it better when ya do what ya tol'?"

He got little in response, and Casey felt his own blood run cold for once. Dare he say he felt panic. Now that dare for them to move, turned into hope,

"...Raphael...?"

Casey slowly moved to his knees, hands grabbing their shoulder as he shook them. That anger he felt turned to nothing, as he panicked, felt remorse, regret, feelings he didn't even know he was capable of anymore! What had he done...what had he done?!

"Ya...ya not gonna die on me ya 'ear," Casey demands, "I said ya aint gonna fuckin' die Raph!"

He'd gone too far. He hit them too hard. He swallowed thickly, a pain he hadn't felt since his parents died hitting him like a bullet to the back,

"...I'm sorry..." The words are whispered like a sin, "I'm so sorry..."

| My character takes a fatal blow intended for your character. How does your character react?

Raphael couldn't let the shock get to him anymore he had to deal with it later, this was the perfect chance Casey finally left him alone. Unsure for what, nearly fearing for what. Raphael still couldn't fully believe it as the truth Casey? that goof ball mechanic was the very same person going around killing people? The one who killed Buck. As awful as it sounded that was still the real only crime in the turtles mind. The rest? He could see some justification on killing them. Low life dirt bags. He shook the thought out. He can't still be agreeing with this with any of this. He was conflicted about it all before but now that he knows it was Casey the whole time? It made those arguments even more dangerous to wager in his mind. Did..did part of him always know it was Casey the whole time?

Not the time Raphael. He refocused himself, as if it were so easy to not focus on the fact your best friend was the biggest known killer in all of New York city. That said enough on it's own. No he was also the killer Raph's older brother and team leader wanted to put an end too. Raph had to get out of here so he could get to his brothers first and.

And what? Raphael couldn't believe it part of him truly seemed to think and feel that he could what stop them for going after Casey? Something was seriously wrong with him. He kept shifted his wrists together trying to get them to line up how he needed. As he mentally scolded himself for his stupidity just then and there. finally he felt his palms against the other and started to push. Everything playing through his mind how worried Casey was about Raph being part of hunting down the killer. Thinking it was genuine worry and care for his well being that whole time. No Casey just didn't want to be caught. Evading the cops was easy but four mutant turtles? Despite whatever Casey tried to sell him on about protecting him. Raphael just couldn’t bring himself to believe it. He could hear the ropes started to snap as he pushed hard flexing his arms to add in pressure the snapping was so satisfying to his ears, finally his wrists were free. Arms moved in front of himself as he took a second to rub over his wrists the ropes had been cutting into his scales. HE didn’t have much time to waste as he looked down to his feet’s starting to work on the rope there.

Too focused on getting away though when he suddenly felt something slam rough into the side of his face. He could feel wood splinter and break, inbreeding between his scales making the hit twice as much. The clear sound of wood beak for being slammed into a small like tank built turtle stood no chance. But it was more the force on the other end that really go Raphael. “Fuck” He spat, literally as he had bite down on his tongue, “Ya ain’t keepin’ me here locked up!” Raph snaps as he looks up to find Casey hold the broken hockey stick. They would need something more dense to really do any harm to Raph. Thick scales and muscles made him like a small tank in build. “One way or another ‘m gettin’ outta here and when I do!” Raph started to threaten but even he didn’t know how to end it.

Was he really meant to turn in Casey? How? Like the cops would accept a mutant knowing the truth. Besides he’s not sure he wanted the cops to handle Casey. He rather him and his brothers do it. Whatever that meant. Raphael didn’t want to think too hard on what that might mean. Leo could make that call right? “I ain’t some damn pet! An’ ya can’ keep me here forever Case. If I don’ get out they will find me you know ‘hat! So stop this insane batshit and-“

Another hit, this time there was a hard throb ringing out against the other side of his face, Raphael had to slam a hand down to th floor to try and keep himself steady. That time it was their hockey stick that hit him it seemed. Casey meant business here, teach Raph a lesson he figures. Raphael just spat out more blood on to the floor before a ow growl emitted out from the back of his throat. A blessing in disguise Donnie would feel the same pain and might be able to understand the confusion in Raph. He just wasn’t sure if that would be enough to let Don guess where he was. He knows that Don at least wouldn’t stop trying to find him. Less dramatic, none of them would without a body to claim.

“Best ya got pretty, boy? Pfft an’ here I though you were ‘his big bad killer, playin’ around as. Sham of a hero!” Raphael taunted. He might have at first agreed with the killer, but now? He couldn't even tell you that he was looking at who was meant to be his besr friend. Someone Raphael would defend with every ouce of his being to his last dying breath even and yet here they stood bloody hockey stick in hand as they once more brought it down. Each hit harder than the last. Raphael took it every time. Unsure when the next would come but he could tell Casey was unleashing mlre and more strength between the hits. Fuck. Was all Raphael could think as he coughed up more blood. And some bile that had burned the back of his thoart till it mixed with rhe pooling blood in his mouth. Raphael leaned forward trying his best to stay up, more blood let out to the floor getting on to Casey's shoes. That had the turtle bear his teeth as he shot his head up to look at Casey best he could. One eye swollen shut from the bruising it was being forced to go through. When he heard the sound of Casey's breath ready to speak "Save it!" Raphael shouted to cut them off. "I aint buyin' your bull shit! Keep tryin' to sell and spin that story all ya want I know who I'm looking at." He spits out blood and Slavia mixture out towards Casey unsure it it hit the intened target and uncaring either way. "More like what 'm starting at. Nothing more than that damn mask of yours uh? Covering it all up with an act. Pft maybe ya should have gone off to Hollywood in the end." He sure had Raphael convinced after all. "Ta think I actually believed you too." He scoffs before looking back up at them. "Get in all ya can Casey, because I will get outta here. And jus' cause I did think you as a friend I'll take you out by my hands myself." Raphael said the promise clear in his voice. Casey was too dangerous to let walk away. He couldn't let the cops handle it. He couldn't let his brothers do it either. No he would.

It made sense in the long run to Raphael. This was his punishment wasn’t it? In a way he had helped this killer. Part of what kept Leo from looking into it sooner, Leo would have found out so much sooner. Never expected Casey once because of Raphael’s friendship it gave Casey a good cover. He helped Casey ind places to hide and strike hadn’t he even. This was just as much on him as it was on Casey. Raphael’s friendship was nothing but a cover for him this whole time, how could he be so dumb to believe Casey would be hi friend..to care about him in the way that Raphael thought they did. No it had to be hid hand.

Though, Raphael in the moment was nothing but threats at this moment, Casey? Was the one who had the situation in his control. Didn’t matter how thick skin or tough even that Raphael was between the mutagen and the own conditioning years of training and self maintenance. Not compared to what burned inside of Casey, a coldness came over the human that Raphael never once thought possible for them. Eyes that made him think of warm summer days by the lake that had warmed up a little thanks to the heat wave in the air. We’re more like ice, as Casey lifted the hockey stick high above his own head. Everything Raphael thought of Casey come across his mind once more. The nights bickering back ad forth on what team would win, Raphael learning how to fix up his bike from watching Casey in the shop. Dumb inside jokes that made the others groan when ever they got stuck hearing them. And what did Raphael feel in the final seconds his mind was allowed to still think? How he failed his best friend. He wasn’t there for Casey how he needed him to be there for him. Raphael hadn’t seen everything that was hurting them all that time Raphael just hadn’t seen it. If he did? Could he have kept Casey fm being this?

“I’m sorry“ Words cut off in the end as the hockey stick smashed right into his head the bone cracked beneath the weight of Casey’s swing, the crunc was unpleasant and white burning hot pain that shout out across his skull and through out every nerve. Raphael felt weightless. He didn't even feel his body slump on to the floor. Vision dark and blurry.

"See...aint it better when ya do what ya tol'?"

Raphael tried to voice a response but nothing came of it.

"...Raphael...?"

They really were nothing but a bullshitter uh? Claimed they were keeping Raphael safe. He barely can tell his shoulder is being shaken only aware Casey touched him as his view moved letting him see Casey for a moment. The look across Casey's eye was the first time Raphael saw the man he always thought them to be. Fear and worry across those ocean eyes that Raphael had grown so damn fond of over time....and kind of hated as well. He didn't want that to be his last thought when it came to Casey though.

"Ya...ya not gonna die on me ya 'ear,"

He likely was going to. Raphael already accepted that fact, he was going to die. Like this of all things? Man what a let down he always thought it be in a fight. Guess in a way it had been that way. He wished he could speak, try on last time to reach Casey. Casey for all the wrong he done still touched Raphael's harden heart. Got him to open up someone, felt safe around someone. Sure that lead Raphael here, dying by his own blood, spilled by his so called best friend. Shit don't seem to matter much in those final moments. Because at least he wasn't alone in his death at least Casey was here. Maybe his death will be his last attempt to reach out to Casey somehow? Or is that just wishful thinking of a dying mutant?

"I said ya aint gonna fuckin' die Raph!"

Raphael wished he wasn't either, he wanted to ask Casey why he wanted to talk to them. Late at night when he would sneak back into the auto shop Casey worked in. Music playing as they laughed and shared a case of beer together. Not one of the rowdy nights just one of those nights where they talked. Really talked. Raphael never was much of a talker but those talks with Casey? They were so real.

"...I'm sorry..."

Yeah, Raphael was sorry. Sorry he hadn't done more for Casey, sorry his friendship wasn't enough in the end. Sorry he was selfish and never reached back out to someone clearly hurting and needed him to be there.

"I'm so sorry..."

So was Raphael.

[selormohene]

day 36 (tuesday, august 8th 2023)

(Posting this late on Wednesday)

Saw another one of those "if you don't enjoy small talk there's something wrong with you" posts and figured I might as well write up why I don't like small talk, because I've had the ideas floating around in my head for a while and figured I might as well write them up.

I've never felt like a particularly gifted conversationalist. I think I'm pretty interesting to talk to when I'm in my element, and that I can be funny and even have a peculiar charm around people I know well and connect to, but for various reasons (including my personality, and past experience, and the fact that the inhibitory, self-conscious part of my brain is always on, etc., etc.) it's still not something that comes as naturally to me as I'd like. Moreover, I feel like I can't help but put effort into conversations — into listening to what people say, taking it seriously, and trying to respond with something that will repay the effort I'd hope they were putting into the conversation in turn — and I don’t like being judged for being boring or awkward or charmless. And I feel like the default situation of most casual conversation — when you're talking to someone you don't know very well, don't know how much you have in common with, and presumably want to like you — raises both the difficulty in and the stakes of being interesting in a way that just doesn't come easily to me, given the nature of casual conversation.

Over time I've learned to become relatively comfortable with not being a small talker, or at least relatively comfortable with the discomfort that attends not being a small talker. I've learned that I don't have to bend over backwards to seem interesting, that it's okay to stay quiet when I don't have much to say, and that I haven't done anyone wrong if I don't have anything to say. Obviously I'm also working on opening up and relating to people in situations where I actually do want to relate to them (as opposed to situations in which I feel compelled to perform), but still. But I think that because I've had to deal with awkwardness all my life, I've developed a relative immunity to it that other people haven't. And as I've learned from experience, normal people really hate you for making things awkward. As far as they're concerned making a situation awkward seems to be just as bad as insulting a close relative, or something, and awkward people are to be avoided just as ardently as serial killers or something. In fact I've often heard comparisons along those lines made, where it's suggested that the sort of social inexpertness that makes someone bad at small talk or unable to engage in it is supposedly meant to be an indicator of some sort of sinister personality, an "inability to follow social norms" or whatever.

The problem is that a lot of people's idea of "small talk" is saying low-effort things about the weather or whatever, or asking insincere questions to which you're supposed to give scripted answers. These are costly to put effort into listening to, and yet you're expected to take them seriously, or at least to appear to do so, and to give engaged, interesting responses. But it takes me a lot of effort to not only listen and respond, but to pretend to be engaged and to give a response that will engage them. It’s the fakery, and in particular the enforced fakery with social penalties for not engaging, or not wanting to engage, or verbalising not wanting to engage, that I don’t like. I don't enjoy having to say "yeah, totally!" to "We should get lunch soon, it's been a while," or "I'm okay" to "how have you been?" when people have no intention of actually seeing me again or don't care how I've really been, especially now that we live in an increasingly isolated world where what most of us need is in fact people who want to have lunch with you and who care how you're really doing. But I especially despise the insinuation that these constant performances of ritualised insincerity are actually manifestations of a prosocial orientation and not being willing to play along indicates that there's something wrong with you. I also despise the idea that you would somehow be bad and stupid to do something as ridiculous as responding sincerely to these things.

People who defend the necessity of small talk often say that its "point” is to test boundaries, or to build trust, or to show that you're capable of going on in polite society, or whatever. But that doesn't really make much sense to me. First of all, why should the implication therefore be that we should enjoy it? Why on earth would a ritual whose supposed purpose is having to make sure the other person won't kill you be enjoyable, rather than a regrettable necessity? Second of all, it strikes me as rather strange that people genuinely believe that trust is built from being able to make inane conversation about the weather or whatever. The idea is supposed to be that we're just making meaningless sounds at each other while we're furtively monitoring other people's demeanour, body language, etc., etc. But the problem is of course that this penalises people who are otherwise perfectly okay but aren't very good at the game of making meaningless sounds, which is only a proxy for prosociality (as the defenders of this interpretation themselves admit). But it also rewards people who are good at the proxy but not what it measures for. For me, personally, given that I'm someone with a nonstandard social presentation (and having encountered many people who were socially efficient but actually terrible people, the fact that someone is able to navigate glib surface-level conversations does not in fact make me trust them more, precisely because there’s nothing to glib surface-level conversation. Which is not of course to say that people who are capable of navigating deep conversation aren’t capable of showing you, just that small talk is not somehow a better indicator because it shows that you’re capable of navigating social norms. It’s an instance of werey dey disguise in fact; it selects for normal well-adjusted people and terrible people who are slick enough to disguise how bad they are.

I'd rather say that the capacity to engage in deep conversation *and* respect boundaries at the same time is probably a far more robust indicator of quality of character, but I get the impression that some of the small-talk defenders equate the depth of conversation with the erosion of boundaries. This is another reason, I think, why people don't like it when you don't like small talk; they don't have a strong enough sense of their own boundaries or the ability to enforce them. So if you're sincere about something, or you ask them about something they don't want to talk about, then they get triggered and take it out on you. Whereas for me I prefer to just get to talking about what one wants to talk about, instead of pretending to be interested in things I’m not interested in, but part of what allows me to do that is that I have learned how to say “I'm not comfortable talking about that” or “That's personal” or even "I don't feel like we're close enough that I'd be comfortable sharing that" and so on. But again this is something which hurts people's egos to hear, even though everyone has things they're not comfortable sharing with certain people and they will let you know in any other way but saying so explicitly. You're just not supposed to say it or else you're the bad guy. People associate small talk with a removal of obligation to be confessional, but don't realise that it also imposes an obligation not to be honest about certain things.

Moreover, I feel as though the "small talk actually serves an ulterior purpose" defense is self-defeating. The moment you have that self-conscious view of a social ritual, the moment two people enter a conversation with that mutual understanding of what they're doing as “you have to navigate this elaborate performance where we’re faking interest in the object-level conversation for the sake of this meta-level figuring out each other,” the conversation sours. The interesting thing is that the people who are best at small talk are almost always those who are not self-consciously using it as a tool for ulterior motives, but who appear to generally enjoy talking about light stuff, and who have a way of doing it in such a way that you will enjoy it as well. Those people almost never give off the vibe that they’re using it to slowly build trust or test boundaries; people who approach small talk that way give off "wounded animals warily circling each other” vibes. Incidentally it strikes me that the sort of defense of small talk I've been arguing against often comes from people who are former oversharers or autists who were burned by people who trod on their emotional boundaries, and who are now rediscovering or reinventing normie social norms, but they’re reverse-engineering those norms with ridiculous self-conscious explanations instead of being naturally attuned to them, which has the annoying side-effect that they can’t see the limits of those norms. So they come off as sanctimoniously enforcing what was previously a spontaneous social norm. I’ve never met a conscious advocate for small talk because of the ulterior purpose it serves who was any good at it, because very often these people aren’t good at actually communicating their social-emotional needs, they just expect you to play along with whatever game they’ve decided in their heads is necessary to satisfy those needs, and if you don’t they beat you over the head for it.

[book--wyrm]

I suppose this is out of the blue (or maybe not I saw your post in the rhaenicent tag, yes that one) and I felt? like I don't know called out?

Because I usually read and am left teeming with questions and want to asked the author about the why's and the how's but then I don't want to be a bother. And I always assume it'd be a bother for some reason?

So, there's the why now. And here is the what: I'm so unbearably curious about The Long Road Home!!!

Like is it discontinued? Is it coming back?

What happened next? Does Alicent fully believe Rhaenyra's offer of friendship? Is Rhaenyra going to offer for her to leave the RK inspired by Tylands recovery and fuck it up in the delivery like she has been doing in past chapters?

Them getting together is clearly aways of, but when they do, is it healthy-ish? And when they eventually fuck (because they will) is Alicent trauma going to light up like a Christmas tree? And how will Rhaenyra handle it? (And Alicent's consent is going to be clear cut? Or is it going to be sort of another misunderstanding between them?)

Will Daeron get the wrong idea of that situation? Like will he assume that indeed Rhaenyra is The WorstTM and actually using Alicent like a sex slave?

If this sort of question bombing is welcome then answer whatever you like!

(Love your writing by the way! -somehow I think I should have led with that)

First of all, this kind of question bombing is absolutely welcome—I will literally never shut up about my fics if people let me talk. Send as many questions as you want into my inbox and I’d be happy to answer as much as I can without spoiling future chapters.

Second, Long Road is not discontinued, never fear. I've kind of just run into a big snag in writing it, and am just now getting back into the swing of things. You actually sent this anon just as I was about to start a writing sprint for Long Road lmaooo.

So yeah, Long Road is coming back, but I don't know when. For reasons, I've entered into a block of chapters I always intended to post in quick succession, so I have to write them all, plus I need to make edits to previous chapters to bring them more in line with the fic as I intended. It might be some time before I publish a new chapter. On the plus side, once I start posting again I'll have a buffer of about seven chapters so it'll be regular updates for a while after that.

As for your questions, I can't fully answer some of them for spoiler reasons, but I'll answer them as best I can:

"Does Alicent fully believe Rhaenyra's offer of friendship?"

No. That's actually one of the things that I'm editing in previous chapters (all edits will get rolled out when i start posting again). I think I've been writing Alicent dropping her guard too fast and it's fucking up my pacing all sorts of ways (serialization is a curse lol), so Alicent is going to be more wary in the last couple chapters, and the ones moving forwards, at least for a while.

"Is Rhaenyra going to offer for her to leave the RK"

Yet another thing I'm not satisfied with. I feel like I focus very much on the emotions of my characters, and haven't really gotten across adequately that Alicent and her family are like... still very much political prisoners. The Dance has not even been over a full year at this point. This is a problem in my writing, to be clear—Rhaenyra rarely thinks of their situation in that light, and Alicent's more recent trauma has been overshadowing the fact that she really hasn't been free since the Fall of Kings Landing about... two years ago, give or take a couple months? The point is, I am not going to confirm or deny Rhaenyra letting Alicent go, but it is not something done easily or lightly.

"Them getting together is clearly aways of, but when they do, is it healthy-ish?"

Yes. As much as certain people in the Rhaenicent discord like to paint me as a purely angst writer, I have always intended for this fic to end with a good ending for Alicent, the beginning of the rest of her life. No fear I'm not going to hard pivot into Alicent getting thrown back into another toxic romantic/sexual relationship. Girlie's had enough of those for a lifetime.

Though I still have ideas for more Maegorverse AUs, so. Maybe in a side fic.

"And when they eventually fuck (because they will) is Alicent trauma going to light up like a Christmas tree?"

You know, I don't actually know if they will. Certainly not in the main fic, but after Viserys, Larys, and then Mysaria, Alicent's attitude post fic might honestly just be "no." I can say that whatever she settles on, both she and Rhaenyra will be satisfied. I might explore that after I'm done with the main fic, how Alicent feels about having sex after everything.

"Will Daeron get the wrong idea of that situation?"

Daeron is interesting because on one hand, he's heavily biased from grief and trauma, and doesn't have a lot of the context for Rhaenyra and Alicent's past. But of the remaining Greens, he's probably the most clearheaded and rational. Alicent is more trauma and hypervigilance than anything else at this point in her life, and Helaena has retreated into her own mind out of grief. Jaehaera's fine-ish but she's also like 8. So while I'm not gonna say rn how Daeron takes any of what happens, I will say, he's stubborn and biased and suspicious, but he's not irrational. Far from it.

Thank you so much for sending in these questions! Feel free to keep chatting with me about Long Road—it's never a bother.

[weirdshadeofgray]

Midnight sky

summary: Steven can't get over you so he's following you around. When he sees you getting intimate with your new boyfriend, he loses it, so Marc has to step in.

pairing: Steven Grant x f!reader

note: yandere!Steven, i guess. inspired by Miley Cyrus's Midnight Sky ("See his hands on my waist, thought you'd never be replaced, baby.") what do you think?

"Let her be," Marc tried to reason with his alter for the hundredth time that night.

But Steven didn't listen. His eyes were glued to you and the way that guy put his hands on your waist to pull you closer. Jealousy clouded his mind the moment he touched you, feeling like he should walk over and push him away from you.

"Steven, she broke up with you a month ago, get over it."

It felt like you were cheating on him, even though Marc was right and the two of you hadn't been together for weeks now. But why did it feel like you'd just stabbed him in the back then? The sight was breaking his heart and he felt like screaming.

You sneaked your arms around the guy's neck, standing on your toes to kiss him. He remembered the way you kissed him not long ago, the way the soft skin of your fingers brushed over the back of his neck before disappearing into his hair.

His memories of you were so vivid that he truly felt like the scent of your perfume invaded his nostrils again. But you were standing on the other side of the street, there was no way he could smell it from there. It was just his brain playing tricks on him, making him feel like he was in the place of that guy now.

Then he remembered the look of betrayal in your eyes, the way you reacted when you found out about his secret life as a vigilante. That was too much for you.

He had been thinking about why you couldn't accept it, why you didn't even try to understand why he did what he did. He got Marc to explain how he ended up in this situation, and even he told you that he was just trying to help people in his own way.

But you made up your mind the moment you saw him as Mr. Knight, fighting some criminal who attacked you on your way home from a party with your friends. That guy could be anyone—a murderer, a serial rapist, maybe just a pickpocket who was after your wallet. He had no idea which one it was, but he didn't want to risk your safety.

Your voice when you yelled him to stop hitting the guy was still ringing in his ear, the terrified and disgusted cry that made his blood freeze. Steven stopped moving, his hand never letting go of the front of the man's shirt as he looked over at you.

For a short moment he wondered if he had become a monster along the way, but he knew he had no bad intentions. Sure, he was angry. But he was bringing justice to the world. That guy wanted to hurt you, he just stopped him before he could lay a finger on you.

This kind of anger was the one that filled his mind now as he watched you with some other guy. He felt like you were in danger, as if there was a chance this asshole would devour you on the spot.

He had been following you around London since the break-up and knew you were seeing someone. This guy was working in the office building across from yours so you often went on lunch dates in a nearby restaurant.

"Please, Steven, go home," Marc tried again.

But Steven ignored his alter. His brain was hyperfocused on the scene in front of him, the fact you were getting intimate with someone else. Was he really that easily replaceable? That you could find another guy just a week or two after ending things with him?

Then he saw him grabbing you by the hand and pulling you towards a nearby street that was way less crowded. Letting out an irritated growl, Steven followed you without hesitation. He needed to see what he wanted from you, just in case he had to step in.

The guy pushed you against a wall, his lips locked with yours in a passionate kiss as you wrapped a leg around his, arching your back to push your hips closer to him. You were making a mistake.aybe you were drunk, after all you'd never acted like this while you were together.

So Steven summoned the suit and rushed over there, grabbing the guy's shoulder and prying him off of you. When you opened your eyes and saw it was him, you clasped your hands in front of your mouth to silence a scream.

You looked terrified. But why were you afraid? He was just trying to help you. This guy was trouble, why couldn't you see it?

And then...

Then he lost control over the body.

Marc managed to front, switching to his own suit while letting go of the poor guy. "You'd better leave now, dude," he said hurriedly. "For your own safety."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the guy asked, standing his ground as his eyes moved over to you to see if you were okay.

He was worried about you, Marc could see that. Maybe this guy really liked you, maybe it was just Steven being delusional and thinking he wanted to hurt or use you.

"Give me control, Marc!" Steven yelled inside, his patience and sanity long gone.

"Just go!"

After you nodded and told him not to call the cops, the guy ran away, leaving you there alone with Marc. He got rid of the mask and stepped in front of you, putting his hands on your arms to help you stand. You looked scared and weak and confused, and he didn't really know what to say now. When he took control, he didn't think that far ahead.

"Marc?" you asked hesitantly.

He nodded. "You okay?" he asked. He was relieved when you nodded in response. "You should go too. Steven is fighting to take control of the body again, but I don't want him to front while you're still here."

Putting your hands up, you stepped away from him. "What's going on?" you asked worriedly.

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't say that, Marc! Steven just attacked my boyfriend. What the fuck is happening?"

Biting the inside of his cheek, Marc thought about what to say. That Steven was falling apart? That he was delusional? That he'd been following you around for weeks? That jealousy drove him crazy? That maybe—just maybe—you were now in danger?

In the end, he only said, "He's in a difficult situation now. I don't really know what's going on with him exactly, but I think time will help."

"Shut your mouth. Don't you dare tell her more. I'm fine," Steven went on angrily.

"And what, did he just happen to be nearby tonight?" you asked, as if you'd already known you were being followed on most days. "I'm sure it was a pretty straightforward situation, why the hell did he attack us? Or am I supposed to be careful out on the street because Steven can show up any second to hurt my boyfriend?"

Marc remained silent. The answer was yes, you were supposed to be careful. But he just couldn't get himself to tell you that.

"I'm sure he already regrets doing this," he lied with an apologetic smile. "Listen, go home, try to relax, and check on your boyfriend. I'll handle Steven, don't worry about it."

You rubbed your chin as you watched him carefully, wondering if he could be trusted. Then you took a deep breath and asked, "What about me? Would he hurt me?"

"No! Never!"

But despite Steven's quick response, Marc wasn't that sure. After tonight he could see his alter lose his sanity enough to turn on you in the end. But he didn't say anything. He didn't want to scare you. So, once again, he lied. "No, he could never do that."

You nodded. "Okay, I believe you. Thanks for helping me. I'll just go now."

Marc waved goodbye, put the mask back on, and went in the other direction, hell-bent on getting as far from you as possible. He hoped you wouldn't go home tonight. He didn't want Steven to know where to look.

"You'll regret this, Marc. You shouldn't have stepped in!"

"You'll thank me later, Steven," was all he said.

[wis-art]

She keeps saying that salem dated a groomer, while ommiting the fact that said groomer abused the FUCK out of him and preyed on the fact he was a suicidal lonely mentally drained adult after visiting the psych ward many times. He was as easy of a target for an abuser as a fucking kid. She keeps this fucking traumatic experience of being in abusive relationship with a fucking pedophile over his head and treating it like he is supporting that piece of shit, i hate that she treats the fact he was gaslit and manipulated by a abuser as the same as finding victims and bringing children to him, and posting every single fucking PRIVATE conversation i had with her telling her to cut it off and to fuck off as proof of me somehow harassing her, fuck you.

Even i was fucking tricked and charmed into thinking that, yeah this person is alright after talking with them but as soon as i fucking connected the dots that no, salem's abuser is in fact a pedophile abuser, i fucking went off to apologize to her and she just went off on me and kept threatening me and telling me that i am somehow defending pedophiles and how that makes me a hypocrite??? I felt so incredibly dirty with myself and ashamed and swallowed my pride to apologize, and all you did is just argue with me so i get angry so you can have more screenshots of me being mad at you. As soon as i found out i went to tell you that you're right and that you should fuck off from us, you went into a blind rage about me and him being serial harassers, stirring shit up and cooking up a devious callout on salem on twitter by using some random 17 year old's platform, on your paper thin proof and evidence you pulled by lying and using salem's trauma to frame him as a fucking groomer. You suck and i dont care what happens to you. While you are right about salem's ex being a groomer you also omit the fact he is the victim OF THE SAME EX AS YOURS YOU DATED THAT GROOMER TOO, YOU ARE NOT ANY BETTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You keep asking me for proof and evidence, evidence for what??? Did you forget about all this happening when you did it or do you need a picture you can claim is out of context, leave us the fuck alone. You are blaming a victim of the same person you are a victim of because he doesn't like you one bit. It's such an obvious smear campaign you have been keeping up for literal fucking years by now that caused salem so much emotional harm you can't even comprehend.

I do not like you, nor your enabler gf who did nothing else than glaze him in his DMs about art advice and constantly drawing his old puppychan era OCs publically while constantly publically talking about Salem saying these nasty horrible things about him and whining about him never changing. No he never changed, he is still salem you just want him to be somebody else, somebody you can both wrap around your fingers and keep him around for clout and fame, so you can be the two who "fixed" puppychan. Fuck right off. No amount of crocodile tears you shed for me hurting your feelings by telling you that you guys are abusers is going to make me change my mind.

holy fuck me and salem have been going through basically the same fucking thing for months now