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running-with-kn1ves · 2 days

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Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

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You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on.

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.”

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year.

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing.

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again.

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!”

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree.

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal.

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way.

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you.

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you.

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him.

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced.

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him?

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.”

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry.

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good.

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked.

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with.

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 days

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chemical override (10)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as dictated by the results of poll #6, this chapter will include stunt training, clubbing, and an accident. Plus, you've got tub anon to thank for... well... the tub scene :) Oh, and this is kind of 18+. Just a tad.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Matt and the reader eagerly explore the uncharted waters of their budding relationship. Ewan is booked and busy with the preparation for his new franchise. Will Ewan and his darling even find time for each other, or should they just take this opportunity to let go?

The internet, ever so informative, lets you know that Ewan and Jenna’s arrangement is in its initial stages before he even calls to tell you.

Their first interview with Josh Horowitz is immediately followed by another feature on the movie set, with the two talking about the pre-production, what they liked about the script, and their chemistry, which according to them, came naturally and did not require much work at all. It was practically the thing they had to work on the least. How lucky.

A lighthearted reprieve came in the form of a meme that started circulating not long after their interview with Josh. In it, Ewan is caught looking like he's either malfunctioning or deep in a philosophical crisis. The internet ran with it, with captions like, ‘When you realise you left the oven on at home’, to comparing him to an NPC glitching out.

When you asked him about it, he quickly stammered that he simply spaced out. Sure. It was hilarious, nonetheless.

Your publicist Mallory had commented that soon Ewan and Jenna would be obliged to go on pap walks, something that would appear casual and separate from the confines of the project that they’re working on. Something that signals that their relationship is making it into the real world.

“That whole casual ‘just friends hanging out’ vibe they’re gonna push? It’s all part of the gig,” Mallory shared. “Next thing you know, they’ll be taking long walks on the beach or grabbing coffee in some trendy LA spot.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. Even just a little. Sure, you know what the business is like. You’ve been on the same end of that deal just recently, with your own film’s PR efforts. But this arrangement that Ewan has doesn’t seem like the usual short-term fling to drum up buzz. It feels… heavy, like something that might actually stick.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t find it all annoying, darling, but I try to look at it now as part of the job, you know?” he had said, when he phoned you one evening – his afternoon – to let you know that his stay in LA would be much longer than expected.

You responded with, “Oh, yeah, I completely understand.” What else can you do? You aren’t together – you don’t have a claim to him, and vice versa. You thought that would make things better – easier – but you’re still waiting for that sense of comfort to kick in.

This is for the best, you would remind yourself every time a new headline surfaces.

It’s only been a month since you last properly saw Ewan, since that night on the rooftop. In the early days, he messaged every day, called whenever he had a spare moment. But slowly, the calls have become shorter, more sporadic – chalked up to his increasingly busy schedule. Your tones have become more dispassionate – he blames it on his exhaustion, profusely swearing that he misses you so fucking much, but something feels different.

Your job keeps you busy, with your commitments related to the new season of House of the Dragon, event appearances, and gearing up for the release of your film with Jacob. You are even invited to the upcoming Vanity Fair Young Hollywood Ball, an exclusive party to be held in New York.

And Matt is a more than welcome distraction.

Matt, who has begun spending more time in your apartment after Ewan’s temporary move to LA. Matt, who brings you flowers that are apparently ‘beautiful, but pales in comparison to you’. Matt, who is unfailingly a gentleman, respecting your boundaries and not making a move since that time on your couch after your first date, when you told him to wait.

He sits with you by your kitchen counter, in a disarmingly tight white shirt that leaves little to the imagination, one sturdy hand nursing a cup of coffee and the other on the small of your back to support you as you sit on the high stool, and you suddenly don’t want him to wait anymore.

“Have you decided on what you’ll be wearing to the screening tonight, love?” he asks.

“Why? Does it have to be pre-approved?” you playfully quip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ah,” he nods, smiling, playing along, “of course, of course. You think I’m an easy man to date? You’ve got to keep up with my standards, as beautiful as you already are.”

You laugh, playfully mussing his hair, and he catches your wrist before it drops back on the counter. He says, “I ask because I wanted to match you, so to speak. We’d be like two peas in a pod.”

“Oh,” you snort softly, “or you know, like Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

“Funny girl,” he muses, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, caffeinated and warm and Matty. You notice that his hand on your back is pressed firmer – he didn’t want you to slip when you leaned in.

Charming bastard. He isn’t making things any easier… or maybe he is.

Maybe he’s it.

But the moment’s broken by a loud, offended-sounding meow. You look down to see Sansa, staring at Matt like he’s personally responsible for all the world’s problems.

“Hey, babygirl,” Matt croons, extending a hand toward her. Sansa, the biggest diva of a kitten, just gives him a slow blink before trotting off, clearly unimpressed.

“Calling her babygirl isn’t going to make her warm up to you,” you tease.

“She already doesn’t seem to like me,” he replies, scoffing. “Which is a shock, pretty much, how can she not?”

“So humble, Matthew.” You smile at his effortless charm, his easy personality. That’s all you seem to be doing nowadays. Matt is like your personal ray of sunshine.

“I’ll win her over,” he declares confidently, sitting upright. “Anything for my lady.”

You roll your eyes. “How very Daemon of you.”

“Actually,” he laughs, “Daemon would probably feed her to Caraxes for being difficult.”

“Matthew!”

“I’m kidding!”

Sansa meows even louder, bounding away towards your bedroom.

“Leave my Sansa alone,” you say, pointing at him accusingly.

He gives you a sly grin. “I will… if you come here and give me another kiss.”

Before you can respond, he slides your stool closer to his with a smooth movement, catching you off guard. You find yourself practically in his lap, his thighs pressing against yours as he waits, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Okay,” you sigh deeply, narrowing your eyes, unable to mask the smile that graces your lips. “One kiss, but only for Sansa.”

“Oh, shush and kiss me already, love.”

The film screening had been a private event, by invitation only from those who worked on the film. Edward Bluemel, Matt’s good friend, is a fellow actor marking his directorial debut with this film. For a first go, it was impressive, gripping from start to finish. Almost as much as Matt’s hand resting just above your knee, his thumb absentmindedly tracing soft circles into your skin.

Your cheeks had flushed when a particularly steamy scene came on the screen, and it might have been the nervous gremlins in your mind, but you swore Matt’s hand inched higher up your leg.

Now, on your couch, his hand is even higher. He hovers over you, his breath heavy and uneven as his fingers tease at the warmth between your thighs, so close to where you’re already aching for him.

Maybe it was all the dirty martinis you drank at the open bar after the screening, or maybe this was a long time coming. Either way, you want him, and from the way his lips move urgently against yours, he wants you too.

It dawns on you that the tension is no longer something you can talk yourself out of.

He pulls away, and you protest with a mewling whine, your body arching into him. He nearly growls in frustration, the unspeakable sound you just made having a direct line to his hardened cock. With a gentle tug at the nape of his neck, you pull him back down to your lips, but he resists.

“We have to slow down,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Because we’re about to cross a line that I won’t be able to hold back from, love.”

“Matt – ”

“I understand – ” He licks his lips, letting out a slow and controlled breath. “ – that you want to wait – ”

Your confession comes out slow and measured, letting him know that this is what you really want. “Maybe I don’t want… to wait anymore.”

“Say that again,” he says slowly, his eyes darkening in lust.

“Maybe I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Maybe?” he whispers, his voice rough, practically pleading.

“Oh, just fuck me.”

That’s all it takes for him to snap.

He undresses you in record time, ripping off every item of clothing from your body with an eagerness that betrays just how hungry he is for you.

Neither of you even bother to travel to your bedroom. At some point, your entwined naked bodies slip off the couch and onto your plush carpet.

And you have a heated… What was it called again?

Oh right – a damn good roll in the hay.

The water is still warm in your deep clawfoot tub, steam rising gently from the surface. You lean back, head resting against the porcelain, that blissful post-sex daze settling over you.

Matt slides into the water opposite you, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes haven’t left you since he stepped in, and you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin. It isn’t just the remnants of your earlier intimacy – though that heat still hummed in the air between you – it’s something more. Something you can’t name and maybe you’re afraid to, but it tugs at you all the same.

A small smile plays on his lips, the kind that made your chest tighten – half teasing, half dangerous.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

You exhale a soft laugh, running your fingers lazily through the water, trailing small ripples across the surface. “I’m not exactly complaining, am I?”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts.” His tone is light, but the undercurrent of meaning isn’t lost on you.

You close your eyes, letting the warm water soothe your tired muscles, but even with the comfort of the bath, you can’t quite escape the one person lingering in the back of your mind.

Matt isn’t Ewan, but he’s here, his presence steady, his charm disarming. He makes you laugh, makes you feel wanted in ways that are simple and uncomplicated, and maybe that’s what you need right now. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to live in this moment without overthinking what it meant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt asks, leaning forward.

You open your eyes, catching the glint of amusement in his. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” he teases, reaching for your hand.

“Hmm, maybe,” you murmur, meeting his gaze. “You’re too charming for your own good, you know that?”

He chuckles deeply. “I’ve been told. But I like to think it’s part of my appeal.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Cocky bastard.”

He grins, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Takes one to know one.” His hand travels to your leg underneath the water, massaging gently.

“I’m serious, though,” he says softly, his voice taking on a more earnest tone. “I don’t want you overthinking this. We’re good, yeah?”

You nod, but there is a flicker of something else in your chest. Guilt, maybe? But Matt is right here, and he isn’t asking for anything more than what you could give, and for now, that is more than enough.

“We’re good,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiles against your mouth, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Good,” he whispers back, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, the sound muffled as he kisses you again and positions you on top of him. You shuffle forward and discover a very obvious indication that he’s ready for round two of rolling in the hay. Or in the tub. Whatever works.

He looks absolutely enraptured when you ride him, your motions causing tremors in the water.

And in the sheer pleasure he gives you, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the smell of lavender, you allow yourself to let go.

The event has the industry buzzing - an exclusive event by Vanity Fair celebrating the rising stars of Hollywood. A masquerade party, the notion of which excited you to no end. You’d only read about such in books, in its medieval iterations, all poofy skirts and velvet waistcoats, the whole concept full of prestige and mystery.

You spent days prepping with your team, the anticipation building until it felt like a living thing inside you. Your dress, a beautiful piece from Atelier Versace, fits like a glove, one side made of draped black sequins shimmering like liquid night against your skin. The theme is Midnight Elysium, and you look every bit the part - dangerous and glamourous and untouchable.

Your makeup team did an impeccable job. Your eyeshadow resembles a swirling galaxy, a blend of silver and noir. Your lipstick is a perfect nude shade that matches your skin tone and your features.

But then there was the mask. The final, necessary touch. Delicate black lace that settles over your eyes, framed with gold filigree and flecks of silver – sharp and ethereal at once. It was a piece of art, something you personally commissioned from a local designer in your hometown.

In a room where everyone claims to know everyone, a mask can be more than just a costume piece. It can be a weapon – giving you the freedom to be both seen and unseen.

Stepping into the nightclub is like slipping in between worlds. Black velvet drapes line the walls, catching the glow of the minimal lighting – gold and silver chandeliers hanging like constellations. The bass from the music pulses underfoot, sending vibrations through your veins. Faces are obscured by extravagant masks, but you are able to recognise some of them if you look close enough. Milly is speaking to someone by the bar, and you remind yourself to pull her aside for a chat later. Timothee is introducing his date to a small flock of people. And Jacob is bounding right for you the moment you make eye contact.

“There’s my leading lady,” he greets cheerfully, swooping down to kiss you on both cheeks. He’s wearing a metallic silver vest and trousers, along with a white mask that covers one side of his face like The Phantom.

“Wow,” you say, making a show of appraising him, looking at all 6 foot 5 inches of his figure up and down. “You look like a handsome disco ball.”

He laughs, the sound unmistakable even in the bustling nightclub. “And look at you! What are you, a cyberpunk witch? A sleek dominatrix?”

“Careful now,” you warn him, “or I might just hex you into getting me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he says, but his attention is pulled by someone calling his name. “Hold on a sec, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.” You let him lead you further into the room, and you’re swept into the rhythm of it all, moving through the crowd as if you belong – because you do. You’re slowly getting used to the weight of eyes on you, but tonight, it feels as if there’s a shadow you can’t quite shake.

Your personal shadow in a room full of masked shadows. Your skin prickles, an awareness blooming under your ribs. In all the fuss leading up to this event, you hadn’t really bothered to check the full roster of attendees.

After several rounds of conversation, you excuse yourself for a moment and stand off to the side to take a breather.

And then you see him.

Ewan stands across the room, a drink in hand, his black leather overcoat tailored to perfection. The mask he wears, a sharp cut of black and gold, adds a dangerous air to him. His effortlessly tousled hair sports a smattering of gold embellishments, like streaks of pale blonde hair. You take him in, every inch of him, that mischievous curve of his lips and the glint of his blue eyes underneath that mask.

It hits you like a tidal wave, like a fucking hurricane, the longing you’ve tried to suppress for weeks.

You shouldn’t want him this much, not when you both agreed to the break. To keep some distance. His fake romantic arrangement had made sure of that. And after everything, you knew that some separation was what you both needed.

But seeing him now, looking at you like he’s starving… it’s enough to unravel every careful thread you’d stitched together since you last touched. You want to look away, pretend that this is just another night, that he’s just another fellow actor among the crowd. But the pull is too strong. It’s as if your legs move on their own volition, and you slowly move through the crowd, almost subconsciously drawn to him.

He steps deeper into the shadows of the club as you approach, disappearing into one of the more secluded alcoves draped in heavy black velvet. No one will see you there. No one will know any better.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, and the music becomes a distant hum. It’s quieter, darker, and for all the trappings of the Hollywood elite, Ewan is far more intoxicating.

“You’re here,” you whisper, half in question, half in disbelief.

But he’s already moving towards you, his eyes dark and hungry behind the mask. The air between you crackles with an undeniable need – weeks of distance, of longing, building up to this moment. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his body through your dress, and you so badly want to forget that this is a bad idea.

“I can’t stay away,” he says, his voice low and raw, like it’s costing him to hold back. “Not tonight.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, every rational thought slipping away as his fingers skim the bare skin of your waist through the slits in your dress. “We… we can’t,” you manage to say, but even to your own ears, it sounds weak. Oh, who are you trying to fool?

“How can I not? Fuck, how can you look like that and expect me to just walk away?”

You want to say something, something sensible, something to remind him of the stakes. But nothing comes to mind, not when his hand brushes up your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His other hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. He dips his head down, breathing against your shoulders and your neck, taking you in like a vice.

“Ewan,” you finally croak. “We agreed not to – ”

“I don’t bloody care,” he cuts you off, his mouth inches from yours. “We agreed to give it some time, sure, but I never agreed to stop wanting you. Besides, I make good on what’s asked of me. I play the part. I deserve to be rewarded, don’t I? And you’re the only prize I desire.”

His words hit you hard, melting any resistance you’d been clinging to.

“Oh? So… so I’m just a prize now?”

He only smiles. “The only one worth winning.”

Before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you pull him closer and crash your lips into his.

The kiss is hard, fierce, his mouth feverishly attacking yours. He tastes bittersweet, all hard bourbon and cigarettes. You’re certain that the lipstick your makeup artist painstakingly applied would be wiped clean off. His hands grip you harder, fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You break apart, gasping for breath. His lips are slick, shining in the occasional flicker of neon blue and red lights, his mask casting shadows across his sharp features.

A bright flash from the party's official photographer erupts in the corner, thankfully not pointed in your direction. Still, it momentarily shakes both of you back to reality.

“Come with me.” His hand slips into yours, fingers curling possessively as he pulls you away from the cacophony of the club. You barely have time to react before you’re being led down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. He pushes open a door, leading you into a smaller room bathed in that same cold, electric blue. Plush seating is arranged haphazardly in the corners, but the space is mostly empty. The low hum of the bass still thrums in the distance, but it’s reduced to a faint echo. The smell gives off cigarette smoke and spilled liquor.

“Smoking area,” he says with a half-smirk, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time himself. “I think.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. “Who cares? It’s just us in here.”

You shoot him a look, glancing back at the door. “Someone could walk in.”

He chuckles, stepping closer, that familiar heat radiating off him like a furnace. “It’s a party, darling. They’re probably wasted out of their minds. And besides…” He taps the edge of his mask, his eyes glinting mischievously behind the black and gold. “The masks?”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “And if someone does walk in?” you ask, arching a brow. “What then?”

He steps closer, crowding into your space, the tension thick between you. “Then they get a show,” he says, his voice playful and teasing, but laced with something darker.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“You can still walk away, darling,” he offers, trying to bait you when he knows full well that he already has you hooked. “Or, you can just shut up and kiss me.”

So much for giving it time. Ewan’s lips find yours once more, just as desperate, and you barely notice when he directs you to the seating, your back colliding with its velvet exterior. His low groan sends a wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and you think to yourself, this was a terrible idea.

Your hands roam, finding the planes of his chest. He smoothly takes off his leather overcoat, revealing his bare torso underneath. The sight of it makes your head spin, and you croak unsteadily, “Ewan… not here, baby, we can’t – ”

“I know, darling,” he croons, his hand cradling your face. “I just wanna kiss you. I just want you… to touch me…” His other hand takes yours and drags it down the firm lines of his stomach, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Please, just – ”

The moment is abruptly shattered by the sound of giggling from the hallway, getting louder. Suddenly, the door opens and in stumbles a pair of girls, one of them you recognise to be Jenna.

“Oh!” The other girl exclaims, clearly delighted by the situation she’s just walked into. She pulls off her mask, revealing herself as Emma Myers. “We found him! We finally found your date.”

Your heart plummets, right down on the liquor stained carpet.

“Hi,” you manage to squeak, getting to your feet and smoothing down your dress which had ridden scandalously higher up your thighs. “I’m – ”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Jenna says, shaking your hand, not the least bit bothered by the state she found you and Ewan in. “I love your work. I’m Jenna.”

“Oh… thank you – ”

Emma steps in, grinning. “Hi! I’m Emma. I’m such a fan.”

“Oh my god, I should be saying that to you guys!” you blurt, feeling a rush of relief at their easy demeanour. “I love Wednesday.”

They both gasp, and soon the three of you are exchanging compliments like old friends, chatting about each other's work with enthusiasm. Ewan, still seated, watches the scene unfold with barely concealed frustration. He eventually stands, shrugging his leather coat back on, and glances at Jenna.

“One of our producers is here,” Jenna explains cheerfully. “She’d love to chat with both of us.”

Right. Ewan’s her date. The word echoes in your mind, but the jealousy you expected to feel is oddly muted now.

Ewan speaks, addressing only you, “Darling, will you – ”

“I’ve got her,” Emma declares, looping her arm around yours. “I’ve got so much I want to ask you!” Before you know it, she leads you out of the room like you’ve been best friends for years.

Ewan’s eyes stay on you, full of frustration and yearning, even as he and Jenna follow you out the door.

But you barely see him for the rest of the night.

The party is a blur of celebrities and conversations, but your mind keeps drifting back to that stolen moment in the blue-lit room. Eventually, your social battery runs out, and you slip out of the club early, unnoticed by most.

Back at your hotel, you peel off your dress and drop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the night replay in your head. The feeling of his hands on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours – it’s all too much.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Ewan One-Eye flashes across the screen.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, but you pick up. His voice is low, almost cautious. “You left early.”

“I was tired,” you reply, voice soft. “The party was great but it was... a lot.” Mainly because of him.

A beat of silence follows, and you wonder if he's wrestling with what to say next. “Are you okay?” You can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched, eyes dark with worry.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, unable to hide the tremble in your voice.

Another long pause, with only his slow breathing on the other end.

“I hate this,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper, the raw emotion in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I fucking hate that he gets to have you, and I don’t… and I can’t… ” He cuts himself off, and you hear the snap of his lighter followed by his sharp exhale.

You bite your lip, your throat tight with emotion. You’ve both been so careful, dancing around each other, pretending that you could stay apart.

“I’m flying back to London tomorrow night,” you blurt out, the words rushing out before you can stop them. It feels like a confession, like you’re admitting defeat.

“I need to see you before you go.”

“Ewan, we agreed – ”

“Fuck what we agreed!” His sudden outburst takes you by surprise, and you hear the raw need in his voice. “I don’t care about the arrangement, I don’t care about the distance. I just... I need you.”

You want to tell him that you need him too. You want to throw caution to the wind and agree to being together in secret despite the false romance he has to portray to the world. But you can’t.

“I...” Your voice falters. “We’ll see each other soon.” It doesn’t feel like enough. With a soft sigh, you add on a lighter note, “Alyna still has to kick Aemond’s ass, you know.”

A beat passes, and then you hear his tired laugh on the other end. “Right,” he chuckles softly, the sound both comforting and heartbreaking. “Wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting for that.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, trying for casual, trying not to let your voice crack, “someone’s got to put Aemond in his place.”

“Hmm, well if that place happens to be right in Alyna’s arms, I doubt you’ll hear any complaints about the script from me this time.”

You can’t help but smile at his teasing, but it only deepens the ache in your heart.

“Ewan…” you begin, but the words hang in the air, unspoken.

“I know, darling,” he replies, his tone resigned yet gentle. “I miss you too.”

The training room is alive with the sounds of clashing swords and laughter, but you can’t help but feel a different kind of electricity buzzing in the air. Maybe it’s just the way Matt looks at you, as you rehearse a scene where Daemon helps Alyna brush up on her sword fighting.

You lunge forward, initiating the first move with confidence, and he counters effortlessly, the blades clashing in a symphony of steel. The practice moves are intense, each swing bringing you closer. His eyes darken with focus as he follows your movements, and for a moment, it becomes easy to forget the rest of the stunt crew in the room.

“Nice footwork,” Matt compliments, stepping in closer. His body brushes against yours, sending a rush of heat through you. Ever since your night together, he has only been more brazen with his affections. “But you’re leaving yourself open here.” He demonstrates, his sword brushing against your side as he adjusts your stance.

“There,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “feel that?” You swallow nervously, grateful that the stunt coordinator had moved on to Harry in the far side of the room.

“I think I might be too open,” you manage to say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Maybe,” Matt murmurs, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “But I can’t help but want to close the distance.”

As you move through the choreography, you both fall into a rhythm, and almost inevitably, the fight turns into something more playful. You circle each other, exchanging faux blows and laughter, the distracting banter causing the stunt director to approach and get you both back on track.

Next up, you have to train for Alyna’s pivotal scene where she attempts to mount Caraxes as per Daemon’s command.

As you practice the mounting technique on the mechanical dragon, you’re hyper-aware of every movement. The crew watches closely, ready to offer guidance. You grip the handles tightly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, and for a brief moment, you lose yourself in the character, feeling the thrill of the scene.

But then it happens. The Buck jolts unexpectedly, throwing you off balance. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself slipping. You try to brace for impact, but it’s too late. You land hard, the pain shooting through your ankle as it twists at an unnatural angle.

There is a stinging sensation too, by the side of your head, and all you think is – oh fuck. The world around you fades to a blur, just as chaos erupts.

When you finally regain consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic fills your nostrils. Your surroundings come into focus slowly, and your heart races when you realise you’re in a hospital room. The steady beep of a monitor is the only sound, punctuated by the faint rustle of fabric.

You feel his hand on yours before your eyes even land on his figure, slumped on a chair beside your bed. His head rests on his shoulder, his grip still lightly holding your hand. His brow is furrowed in worry, even in sleep.

You feel lightheaded, and for a moment you worry that your concussion might be worse than it is, but no. It's just him.

Then, the sound of your movement catches his attention. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and when he meets your gaze, relief instantly washes over his features.

“Love… you’re awake.”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well, well, well. Yous were convinced that Matty would get the clubbing scene, helped by the red herring of his dancing video. Alas!

Is that Matty at the end there? Or a certain Mitchelly man? Hmm... one wonders. 💖

Complaints? Refund requests? Please direct your thoughts in the comments section below. I can 100% guarantee a satisfying solution. Or 70%.

Or, you know, bugger it. We're all in this together, better or worse ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfiction #matt smith #matt smith x reader #chemical override #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd

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jasontoddproblems · 7 hours

Text

Pinstripes (1)

[Jason Todd x Reader]

Word Count: 2906

Summary: You take the leap and decide to introduce Jason to your new boyfriend.

A/N: No one has ever been more normal than Jason Todd. He's fine. He's totally fine. Stop looking at him.

Your apartment was still a chaotic whirlwind when Jason arrived, several dresses draped over the back of the couch, your usual purse contents emptied out on the coffee table next to an assortment of tiny, fashionable clutches. You barely took the time to open the door before fleeing back to your bedroom, your chosen dress for the evening technically on but still unzipped.

“Hello to you too,” Jason called, trailing after you with much slower steps.

“Hi, hello, how are ya?” you mumbled, shoving various makeup products back into a small floral bag.

“I’m fine. You don’t seem to be, though. Wanna talk about it?” He dropped down on the edge of your bed, unbuttoning his suit jacket in the process.

That seemed to catch your attention, and you spun quickly to face him.

“Yes. Tonight’s a big deal. You know that, right?”

Jason raised a brow.

“It’s just another Wayne Foundation gala. You’ve been to dozens of them. You’ve planned dozens of them. It’s your job, and you’re damn good at it.”

Despite the kind words, your lips fell into a frown.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He did know it, unfortunately. Because what you actually meant is that you were introducing your fancy new boyfriend to Jason tonight. Your New York new money, Gotham transplant, up and comer in the Gotham DA’s office with irritatingly private social media accounts boyfriend.

“What are you so worried about? Help me understand,” he said patiently, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach that felt suspiciously like dread. It had no right to be dread. Jason wasn’t scared of shit. Certainly not a 30-year-old man with an overly-gelled comb over.

“I haven’t ever introduced anyone to you before,” you said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I feel… weird about it.”

“This was your idea. If you’ve changed your mind, I’ll just drop you off and go home. You can tell him I’m sick or something.”

Because honestly, Jason wasn’t looking forward to this either. You were right. You’d never introduced anyone to him in the almost ten years you’d been friends. You’d dated here and there, but never anything serious enough that you bothered with… all this. And Jason didn’t love the fact that you were bothering with it now.

“No, no. I need to stop putting it off. It’s important,” you said, sitting beside him. “I’m just… nervous.”

“I can see that,” he whispered, gesturing around at the disaster zone that was your room and earning an elbow to the ribs in the process.

“Just be nice,” you pleaded, moving to stand in front of him, hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

“I will.”

“Jason.”

“I will!” he repeated with a laugh.

You still didn’t look convinced, eyes slightly narrowed and a cute little pout on your lips.

“I’m serious. Please. I know how you can get.”

“Okay, what does that mean?”

“You can be a little… quick to judge.” You hurried to continue when you recognized the flash of hurt in his eyes. “Not me! And not even most people. But like… when you see someone doing something you don’t approve of, you kind of…. Have a hard time letting that go sometimes.”

“Because you let it go too quickly,” Jason said, brief memories of your past relationships passing through his head like a very convincing powerpoint. “I balance you out.”

There was the one who stood you up and didn’t call you until the next day to apologize, rattling off excuses that all could have been easily communicated while they were happening. Jason had refused to call him anything other than Ghost Boy for the remainder of your relationship.

Then there was the one who documented his every movement on social media to an alarming degree, always taking pictures when the two of you were together and posting them with cringey, coy captions that had made Jason roll his eyes so hard they hurt a little bit afterwards. He’d named him The Tourist.

And there was no forgetting Small Dick Energy 1, 2, 3, and 4 who had all had huge issues with your best friend being a man in general, and Jason Todd of the Wayne family specifically. You hadn’t seemed aware of the actual problem, just the symptoms: showing off, being obnoxiously vocal about your relationship when you preferred privacy, a dozen different instances of insecurity, becoming possessive and clingy especially when you wanted to make plans with your best friend. It had been very clear to Jason that he was the problem. And he found he didn’t particularly mind it. You deserved better anyway.

“Meet me in the middle,” you requested, squeezing his shoulders to regain his attention. “And I’ll try to meet you in the middle too.”

“I can try…” Jason said slowly, smiling despite himself when you patted his cheek in approval.

“That’s all I ask. Zip?”

You turned, standing perfectly still while Jason zipped up your dress, taking the extra time to fasten the tiny hook and eye clasp at the top for good measure.

“All set.”

“You’re the best,” you said easily as you moved back toward your vanity, sorting through your various tubes of lipstick.

“I know. It’s a curse.”

You snorted but didn’t argue, turning once again to present him with four different shades of lipstick.

“Which one?”

“What color are your shoes?”

“Black.”

Jason tapped the deep burgundy.

“Ooo. Going bold tonight,” you commented, tossing the others back in your makeup bag.

“You don’t have to,” Jason said with a shrug, but you were already leaning into the mirror, carefully smoothing the rich color over your lips.

“No, I like it.”

Things moved more quickly after that. You made Jason pick out your purse while you put on your shoes, and he chased you to the front door with a bottle of perfume Bruce had bought you last Christmas.

The ride was quiet. Jason had opted for the Wayne’s favorite car service tonight, since you were attending a public event. It always made you a little uncomfortable, carrying on a conversation as if there wasn’t a third person in the car. You texted each other instead.

Jason didn’t protest when you directed the driver to the service entrance of tonight’s ritzy hotel venue. Even though you were technically a guest tonight, you’d earned enough favor with the staff of every fine event venue in the city to get special treatment. Including a way in that avoided the paparazzi stationed out front.

“Can’t believe you sprayed me with that stuff,” you groaned as you led Jason down a service hallway, plucking at your dress with dissatisfaction. It was nicer than what you usually wore when working these events, but not by much. Still unadventurous in color and cut, designed to help you blend in.

Jason caught your hand, gave it a comforting squeeze before releasing it.

“Do you not like it?” he asked, eyes wide with artificial innocence that made you scoff.

“I smell like an old rich lady,” you complained.

“Gonna break Bruce’s heart, talking like that. I’m pretty sure he actually picked that out himself.”

“Well we’re not going to tell him, are we?”

He caught your hand again, intercepting it before you could fuss with your hair.

“Will you stop? You look amazing. There’s nothing to worry about.”

You sighed, pausing before the door that would let you into the hotel ballroom and brushing your hands over your dress again.

“Easy for you to say.”

Jason frowned.

“Hey,” he said softly, guiding your chin up until you were meeting his gaze. “Tell me how to make this easier for you.”

That alone seemed to do something, tension beginning to ease from your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “Just…”

“Be nice. I know.” He offered you his arm with an encouraging smile.

“I mean it.”

“I’ll be so nice he’ll fall in love with me, and you’ll regret ever introducing us.”

“Well, I believe the second part of that statement,” you laughed as he led you through the door and into the ballroom. By the look of things, about half of the invitees had arrived, small groups of business magnates, socialites, and philanthropists forming along the edges of the room to network and gossip and generally be seen together.

“Rude,” Jason said drily, smiling when you pinched his bicep in retaliation. “Alright, where is this guy?”

“Umm…” You stretched up to your tallest, peering around at the near-identical suits around the room. “Right over there!”

He followed the direction of your gaze to

“Is he wearing pinstripes?”

“Jason.”

“I’m not being mean! I’m asking a question.”

“Fine. Yes, he’s wearing pinstripes,” you said, flashing a bright smile as the man in question met your eyes and started making his way towards you.

“To a charity gala?”

“I told you he was coming straight from work.”

“You did. Except the lines of that suit are too sharp for him to have been wearing it all day. Which means he changed into a pinstripe suit. For a charity gala.”

“Stop using your weird observation powers to be a bitch.”

“You love when I - ”

“Well not right now I don’t. Cut it out.”

“Does he think he’s on Wall Street? Or a Law and Order rerun?”

“Jason.” A fierce whisper, accompanied by a sharp elbow to the ribs announced the arrival of your boyfriend, and Jason let out a sigh of defeat.

“There you are!”

The voice was, irritatingly, pleasant. A voice fit for radio. Or campaign videos.

His greeting was smooth, polite, moving you from Jason’s arm to his own with subtlety and a kiss to your cheek.

“You smell nice. New perfume?”

Jason bit down hard on his lip to contain a laugh, flashing innocent eyes at you as you glared at him over your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Did you send my staff into a panic by turning up early?” you asked.

“Early is on time,” he replied, with the intonation of a phrase often repeated. “On time is late.”

“I don’t think that rule applies to parties,” you laughed.

“Definitely doesn’t apply to Wayne parties, anyway,” Jason added, snagging a champagne flute from a passing waiter and handing it to you.

“Oh, thank you! I suppose now’s the time for introductions...”

“You must be Jason,” the other man said, holding out his hand. “Sorry, is it Todd or Wayne? I’ve seen it both ways in the paper.”

“Todd,” he said firmly, reaching to accept the offered handshake with a bit more strength than was strictly necessary. “Unless I need a last minute dinner reservation. Or I want to meet a famous person.”

He knew how to play this game. Kind of. He’d seen Bruce and Dick play it often enough, anyway.

“Good for you,” the other man said with a polite laugh. “Making use of your connections. I’m William Woodley.”

“Middle name?”

William tilted his head curiously, but appeared unfazed.

“Samuel.”

Jason clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“Was hoping for another W.”

Take that, asshole.

William gave another news anchor-esque laugh.

You looked faintly confused.

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you. Good to finally meet you in person.”

“You’ve got the advantage then. I only started hearing about you last week.”

Your sharp gaze bit into the side of his face, and he was sure if there was a subtle way to do it, you would have stomped on his foot for good measure. And he deserved it. That was too clumsy of an insult to land properly.

“I can’t blame her,” William said, turning his full attention on you until your eyes softened again. “I’ve wanted to keep her all to myself too.”

Gag. Damn, he was good at this.

“So, how did you two meet?” Jason asked, though you’d already told him the story. Twice.

“We - Oh, pardon me. Is that the mayor? Darling, we should go introduce ourselves,” William turned to you, eyes bright with excitement.

“I’ve met him,” you said patiently. “Several times. And last week, I’m pretty sure his wife called me the help, so I think you stand a better chance at a good impression if you go without me.”

His eyes scanned over you quickly, assessing, smile beginning to slip.

“Oh. I don’t… I don’t have to go. We could find a different group to join.”

“It’s alright! Go ahead.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ll be fine! I still have Jason.”

It was Jason’s turn to be assessed, though more cautiously.

William gave a noncommittal hum, dropping another kiss to your cheek and whispering something Jason couldn’t hear before heading off towards the growing crowd of sycophants surrounding Gotham’s mayor.

“Well, that was quick.”

“Why are you being weird?” you asked, an overly-polite smile on your face as you watched William make his way across the ballroom.

“I’m not being weird.”

You gave him a flat look.

“I’ve never met one of your boyfriends before! I don’t know how I’m supposed to act.”

“Like a human person, preferably,” you muttered, taking a long sip of champagne. “Like yourself, would be nice.”

Jason’s sigh was drowned out by an enthusiastic voice calling out your name.

“Seriously?” he complained quietly.

Dick Grayson bounced up on sunshine and smiles (and expensive booze), snatching up your hand and guiding you into a graceful twirl before you could even say hello.

“Good to see you! You look lovely.” He dropped a gallant kiss to the back of your hand. “What did it cost you to get Jason in the building tonight?”

“I asked nicely,” you said, with a fond smile. “It’s good to see you too.”

“Funny, I always ask nicely for things - ”

“You do not,” Jason cut off, rolling his eyes.

“Never works for me!”

“Well, she’s prettier than you.”

“Rude,” Dick said before turning to wink at you. “But fair. Was that William Woodley from the DA’s office you were just talking to?”

You blinked in surprise.

“Uh, yes. He - ”

“He’s her boyfriend.”

Something in Dick’s brain seemed to glitch, and his eyelid twitched.

“Interesting! When did that happen?”

“What do you mean interesting?” you asked suspiciously.

Dick hummed, rolling back his exuberant public persona as he searched for the right answer.

“Is he not a little… serious? For you?”

“Have you met my best friend?”

“Jason’s Jason. It’s different,” he said, waving you off.

“What does that mean?” Jason asked, feeling like he should probably be offended. This night was already giving him a headache.

“William’s sweet,” you defended. “And it’s kind of nice to be with someone more serious. He knows what he wants.”

“Sure…” Dick slipped the champagne flute out of your hand, handing it to Jason. “Think you need that more than she does. You look like you tried to eat a snail. Again. I’m gonna go charm more rich people out of their money. Have fun!”

He turned away after a hard clap on the shoulder, taking only a second to identify his next target before he was off again, shouting out someone else’s name with his arms wide open.

Jason drained the rest of your glass, trading it for a fresh one which he handed to you.

You took it without looking, your eyes once again fixed on William through the crowd and your perfectly-painted lips tugged into a slight frown.

That was Jason’s fault, at least partially. And he knew it.

He took a deep breath.

“You should go ask him to dance,” Jason said, plastering on his most convincing smile when you glanced at him curiously.

“Why?”

“Because you’re a guest, they just started playing a new song, and you’re supposed to be having fun.”

You tapped the edge of your champagne flute absently.

“Yeah… but he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities like this. And he doesn’t really like to dance, I don’t think.”

Jason took your glass back, giving you a little nudge.

“He will if he knows it will make you happy.”

“You’re being sweet,” you said, tone nearly accusatory as you look over your shoulder at him.

“How dare you. Would you get outta here?”

Your eyes narrowed a little, but you smiled anyway.

And Jason watched you make your way through the assorted guests, watched you come up beside William, your hand gentle on his shoulder. Watched the way his eyes lit up, the bright beaming smile he aimed at you. Tried, really really hard, to think you two looked like a good match. Tried to be happy for you.

But your own soft smile faded after a few exchanged words, turned into something plastic and polite that clashed with the disappointment he could see in your eyes even from across the room.

Something tightened in Jason’s chest, and he let out a slow breath. He didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to fix this, how to make you happy. Not anymore.

What he wanted to do was shove everyone out of the way until he could stand right next to you. He wanted to steal you away into an alcove, make rude jokes about the elitist guests until you laughed, until champagne threatened to come out of your nose. He wanted to dance with you. Because he knew it would make you happy. Because your boyfriend wasn’t.

Because Jason Todd had been your best friend for ten years. And he’d been in love with you for eight.

*****

A/N: Help, I'm gonna LOSE IT! What do we think, besties? Is this anything? Come chat!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine

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absolutebl · 18 hours

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This Week in BL - So Many GREAT Kisses!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

(Please notice I am now using 6 dots in all ellipses because according to Taiwanese BL that's how we queers roll. Who am I to argue?)

Sept 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - A most excellent glow up. And it’s still a great show. And I cannot wait to see the many different faces of War. Bring on the Leverage of One action-packed mess. I'm waiting.

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) ep 9 of 12 - I’m gonna say this because it drives me crazy. Why are boys in BL, when out and about the countryside, always dressed inappropriately for Thailand? If it’s hot, takeoff your damn jacket. I don’t mean to be crass or crazy or whatever. But don’t wear a jacket when it’s 90° with 90% humidity. In Thailand, jackets are for malls. Meanwhile, I’m an extrovert and that still seemed like an exhausting trip. Although, I suppose they didn’t show all the drive time in the van, when everyone is asleep.

Meanwhile, why are the sides so frustrating in this show? Authentic friends-to-lovers is always a slog. Finally a kiss! And a decent one.

New character? Aw! Hi Yu!!!! Gosh Putter is so cute.

Where were we? Oh yes, Beer is now heartbroken. Always the great fear in F2L that the friendship will be destroyed as a result. And it’s a decent fear.

On a completely different note, I cannot help but wonder when somebody’s chue len is Beer, if that is because beer was involved in their conception. Like, it’s the name you give your "oops baby" from that drunken night at the club. Don’t mind me. I’m just over here in the corner being crass.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 8 of 12 - That was one of the cutest wake up sequences ever depicted. Utterly adorable. And now he’s blind again? Oh my God this is such a soap opera, I can’t even. Meanwhile, wicked ice prince finally made his move. Gah! Why aren’t we getting more of this couple? I always love the sides best with this production house.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - I love a hard fraught game of badminton. Even though we actually didn’t see play. YoIng claiming was so cute!!! And their shower kiss was v hot. Yay little show! Also cute use of the punishment trope!

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - The weight upon the shoulders of our idiot good guy kidnapper continues to pile up. So does the affection. The dude playing Q has sanpaku eyes. Cool. He’s not a particularly good actor though. Rough because everyone around him is giving their very best.

The problem is. I'm noticing. I shouldn't be noticing all the talent trying so hard. That usually means there is something wrong with the story, or there was something wrong on the set.

I don't know what to say at this juncture except I have the sinking suspicion this might not actually be a good show. (Covers head and cowers. Don't hate me.) I'd loved to be proved wrong, but my faith is GMMTV is only about 50% these days. And it probably should be lower.

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 6 of 10 - I was so confused by how we suddenly got on a trip together, that I went back and re-watched the previous installment. And it still isn’t explained. So I have no idea why our leads are on a trip but apparently that’s the next trope to hit. I also have no idea how they're suddenly boyfriends. I’m just generally confused by this episode. It’s like an alt reality. We skipped over all of the stuff where they actually got into a relationship. In general I wasn’t wild about this episode.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 12fin - The most realistic thing about this show is that everybody is everybody else’s ex on any given set. I feel that in my bones. Or do I mean boner?

Frankly, both actors look better after a glow up and I guess pretending to be more their actual ages suits them? Considering what was actually done to invoke youth (a lot of the shine and gloss) aging them was an anti-glow up. A great mattification? Well...... this was a somewhat lackluster finale. (Thank you, thank you, the pun was unplanned. It's a gift.)

I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see Jane suffer? Work HARD to get the kid he abandoned back? I would’ve liked to have seen Ryan a little bit more competent and capable and his job. Maybe dating someone else. But I also do not want any more episodes. This was more than enough. So instead no separation, just boyfriends and a montage of their lives together, getting new and better jobs, moving in together, being supportive and sweet, etc... LOOK: It’s never a good sign when I immediately want to rewrite the show that I just saw.

In conclusion:

A story about a group of interns at a commercial video production company. While I genuinely love OffGun, I’m not convinced this was a good vehicle for them. Is it terrible for me to say, I miss their PickRome days? I don’t think they’ve ever had rolls that suited them better. Still, theirs was the best storyline in this ensemble piece masquerading as a BL, although they still fumbled the ending. Thus, I enjoyed about a 1/3 of it as much as possible, and 2/3 of it less than conceivable. 7/10 and I seriously considered dropping it to a 6/10 so don't push me.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 15 - Not gonna lie I was very skeptical. But I like it fine. Better than I expected because it’s been changed just enough. But it does need to stay changed. I don’t know what I’m trying to articulate here but…... I guess we’ll see.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 3 of 5 - It’s cute in a weird disjointed way. I’m enjoying it enough, I guess. I do like how forthright and direct Kla is.

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Ah. Bully romance. My old frenemy. Of course making this office based means +10 for workplace harassment. Well well well. This will be red flag party town I see. How VERY old school yaoi. It’s all very Cdrama CEO = dudes in suits walking on parquet (minus all the gay sex of course.) The jumping around between times and unfinished scenes is very strange. Is this Starhunter chaos only applied to a timeline?

Imma say this so they hear it at the back. YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE HAIR. If you do time jumps: change. the. hair. It's the easiest and best clue if you aren't going to apply a filter or other cinematography tricks. JUST CHANGE THE DAMN HAIR STYLE.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 9-10 of 12 - And now we all start using six dots in our……? A new coded way to indicate that one is into BL? I did think we were in a slight mire with ep 9, too much teacher filler. Not enough time spent with our boys. Meanwhile, sports day. Pouty Baby utilizing the power of Ge, in front of all of the classmates who do not realize how hard he is flirting and activating babygirl = one of the greatest things ever to happen on my screen. Essentially this was a version of the claiming trope, only nobody knew it but the two of them. Fucking genius. Yes, I watched it multiple times. Then babygirl is injured, the carrying and the flirting!!!! Gah!

I don’t mean to trivialize the show, but this is me and I can trivialize everything even something as brilliant as this. But that conversation about history at the beginning of ep 10...... Was that about topping and bottoming? Because it sure seemed that way.

And then...... Possibly the best only one bed trope twist ever?

This show is so fucking amazing.

And I am so worried about the end.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 7 of 10 - I love the kinkyness of our baby boy’s fantasy. Where he is the gift and his boyfriend is in uniform. Very nice. Thank you Japan. Never one to let kinky dogs lie. Also, the premise continues: one half thinks that they are already boyfriends and acts like it, and the other half is still trying to become a boyfriend. It’s absurd in that way that only Japanese miscommunication extraordinaire can be absurd. Also could Kyosuke be any more under his boy’s thumb?

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 1-2 of 10 eps - Shiba is a top lawyer, angular aggressive bespectacled workaholic cat-type (Kitten? Babygirl? Tsundere? Some unholy combination of all 3?) I am reminded I should be more considerate of my potted plants. OMG the teasing and the little tongue sticking out. Haruto is such a flirt. I love this dynamic. What fun! Manic pixie dream boy but MAKE HIM EVIL! Or very high? Or a grifter? I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. But I’m enjoying it. It’s very...... very

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - Oh! Good kiss. Smart to have the younger character initiate. I also like that he put a stop to it and then went and had a long conversation with a friend about it. Cautious boy. Also shows how in control of the situation Sea is becoming. It works for this BL since he has the stronger personality. I don't care what the characters say, this is about Sea becoming a rock for Neil.

But the secondary couple is actually winning this show. I want so much more of them.

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 8fin - I’m not sure that blackmailing and entrapment, especially of your ex, necessarily justifies cheating. Plus I never like it when it’s gays against gays. But what did I expect from this show? This whole series was basically Korea’s version of messy gay. If you liked Only Friends you’ll probably enjoy this bullshit. And they were quite pretty. I, however, am monumentally displeased. 4/10 FATALLY FLAWED but still, basically, BL, however…... do we want to support this kind of behavior?

KOREA PLEASE GIVE US A NEW PROPER BL!! WHERE ARE YOU? WE ARE SAD AND LOST WITHOUT YOU.

It's like now they discovered boys can kiss they can't be happy.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL and it's exactly as expected. I do not like it at all. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. DNF

In case you missed it

I FINISHED Meet You at the Blossom (China). I ate crow, binged the fucker, and live blogged the experience. I enjoyed it a lot and got quite witty (I think) there are also puns (warning). But if you don't wanna slog though it, here are my final thoughts:

This was undeniably a wuxia and most definitely a BL. Evil stunning princely Cheekbones meets and falls in love with the bisexual disaster Dimples of his dreams. There’s a lot of floaty fighting, tangled plot, and overworked emotions. From start to finish it is exactly as it claims to be, including more than the expected amount of sexual claiming (dubious conscent to the point of rape). I’m not wild about the wuxia genre, but I will tell you what I do like: Very pretty men in flowing robes + eye makeup + hair ribbons wafting about stabbing and kissing each other plus ridiculous soap opera machinations. I also like cheekbones and dimples. AND I love a stupid gay sleeve, okay? There was also truly epic levels of stink-eye, and that too is to be lauded. This show left me grinning like crazy. Was it great? Not really, but it was a great experience and I enjoyed it immensely. 8/10

4 Minutes (Gaga) Ended - Spies reported in to say the ending was not-exactly-unhappy and mostly lackluster. I'm torn over whether to watch. My natural disinclination to binge, meets my dissatisfaction with wishy-washy, is going up against my love of high heat and pretty men. Oh the age old struggle between art and lust.

Mitsuya-sensei no keimakutekina ezuke finished and it’s reported to be solid. Age gap treated with respect. I'm curious, so I'll check it out if I can get hold of non-G-drive subs.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming Sept 2024:

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I love love love this execution of the punishment trope. What's Ai going to do to you, Yu? Ride you to death?

I Saw You in My Dream indeed.

Sigh. This show. (Addicted Heroin)

All praise one of BL's best-in-show glow-ups. Nicely done, Jack.

James, on the other hand. Never needs a glow-up. Still the prettiest. Has been since Oxygen. (Battle of the Writers)

He's playing the role of Saint in this show, thank you very much. Speaking of which, wouldn’t that be just the most gorgeous pairing in the entire universe? Saint and James? I’ll be in my bunk.

Taiwan giving us a boop! Reminds me of Be Loved In House I Do, right up there with TharnType as chronic boopers.

Why is he SO GOOD in this show?

All Frist Note.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

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rinachains · 2 days

Text

wc: 1.2k

contents: sukuna x gn!reader, established relationship, a bit of angst and fluff; modern!au (no curses), sukuna can't say sorry for his life, but both of you kind of suck at communicating lol

a/n: aghhh, this is the first drabble I'm posting on here, so bear with me :) reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

You knew from the start that a relationship with Sukuna wouldn't exactly be conventional. Being with someone like him didn't promise an easy, smooth ride, but you knew what you were getting into. And it wasn't like you were someone who was easy to handle either.

Sukuna and you were basically like two peas in a pod- you would snicker and roll your eyes at others, exchange brash comments, crude words spilling from your sly mouths. It made you giddy. He was anything but a prince charming - if anything, he was more of a villain. But ever since you were a child, you felt more drawn to the antagonists, believing them to have a certain charm that captivated you.

A match made in hell, your friends would jokingly say. The two of you weren’t particularly good people and perhaps that’s why you were so good for each other. After all, they do say that two negatives make a positive.

Your very first interaction consisted of you scowling at him and saying that he was ‘an embarrassing asshole trying to compensate for something he clearly lacks'. On that day - which you remembered more than well - you were in a café with your friend, and as you were on your way out, he bumped into both of you, causing your friend to spill her coffee on herself. Instead of apologizing, he just gave her a dirty look and started walking away before you stopped him and started berating him.

From that moment on, Sukuna was a goner. Of course, at first he was just irritated and annoyed by your audacity, but thoughts of you quickly consumed his mind afterwards, which in turn made him despise you even more. Only he didn't really hate you - the line between hatred and appreciation was thin for Sukuna, blending into a confusion of emotions that made it difficult for him. But Sukuna was not one to shy away from challenges, the longing for intensity was deeply rooted in his body.

Sukuna didn’t have a normal perception of love. To him, love was a nuisance and useless. But he found you interesting. There was an intensity to you that matched his own, that he could relish. You were unafraid to show yourself, indifferent towards the opinion of others, too headstrong for your own good. And you understood him, in a twisted way. And he was able to understand you. Maybe that was what he needed this whole time – an equal. Someone who didn’t hold back and wouldn’t try to make him hold back.

When you finally started going out, which was a silent procedure since you two didn’t use the words ‘dating’ or ‘going out’, there was a surprising harmony between you. Meaningful conversations formed easily, playful quips and taunting inbetween, keeping each other on your toes, and there were moments of silence that you basked in, not feeling the need to fill it with unneccesary words. It was comfortable; like the spring breeze, promising something new, something fresh, but still holding an air of familiarity, bringing in a sense of comfort. Until then, Sukuna had never believed that he would ever experience anything like this. Sometimes he thought you were just a figment of his imagination, a product of the loneliness that had clung to him all his life.

So when Sukuna first saw the tears in your eyes (the same ones he always unconsciously looked for, no matter where you were), standing out so brilliantly against your glassy eyes that he felt like he was going blind, and had to resist the urge to turn his own away from them, he also felt overwhelmed for the first time. It didn't help that those tears were forming because of him, a reaction to his words leaving his mouth. It was a thoughtless remark on his part, said out of a moment of disdain, which wasn't necessarily anything new, but this time it obviously hit something deep inside you, and Sukuna knew he’d screwed up. Badly.

He never thought twice about something he said, especially when it was something harsh, simply disregarding the consequences of his hurtful words. So why did he suddenly have this heavy feeling forming in his chest, making it hard to breathe? This bitter taste in his mouth?

Sukuna remained silent, his face unreadable and blank like a sketch where the artist had not drawn a face but only the outline of a head. As he stared at you, your cheeks flushed blotchy and you tried to swallow the embarrassment creeping up your throat, blinking a few times to clear the wetness in your eyes.

You didn't want to be weak in front of him – that’s not who you were. You always prided yourself on not showing weakness in front of others, but at the end of the day, you were only human. What if he left you, now that you got this emotional? What if he decided you were too weak, too big of a nuisance to be with? You destroyed the perception he had of you, you were sure of that.

Silence hung over you like a heavy blanket, trapping you both and making it hard to move. What exactly were you waiting for? For him to apologize? Words like ‘sorry’ never rolled smoothly over your tongue, your own pride and discomfort holding you back. So how could you expect that from him? You didn’t truly know what you wanted. Perhaps reassurance? A sign that he didn’t think any less of you now? That he didn’t mean what he said?

After a few seconds (which felt like minutes, even hours) had passed, you cleared your throat, eyes flickering to the the clock hanging on the wall behind him. You were running late for work.

“I have to go now”, you managed to breathe out, voice slightly scratchy from holding down your emotions.

“Right.”

There was no goodbye following your departure. Sukuna was left with an empty feeling in his chest, his hand reaching out to grab at it. He hated it.

By the time you got home around 8pm, exhaustion was present in your bones, your body weak and head foggy. Being away for a few hours helped you calm down and get a clearer head, although the embarrassment still seemed to cling to you. Should you just pretend nothing happened? Ignore him? Be cold towards him? You didn't really want to talk about it, you were too tired from the day, from everything.

But as you hung up your coat, with conflicting thoughts running through your heavy head, a smell you knew only too well reached your nose and caught your attention: it was your favorite food. Sukuna has cooked it for you a few times before; each time he has grumbled about how long it takes to make and that some of the ingredients are crazy expensive - he never said it was too difficult for him though, he can make any dish, in his eyes there is no complicated one.

The special thing was that you never had to tell him out loud that it was your favorite dish, he just guessed it from your reaction every time you ate it. The moment you smelled his cooking and heard the clink of dishes being placed on the table where you shared every meal, you knew immediately - that was his way of apologizing.

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #angst #fluff #modern au #ryomen sukuna x reader #drabble #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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preppyacademy · 11 hours

Text

From a meaningless virtual life to the preppy boy I am now

Elliot's story

To convince you to come to the Preppy Academy, here's Elliot's personal testimonial. His life has changed radically thanks to our school's methods. The following are his words:

Hello, my name is Elliot, I'm 20. I'm a student at the Preppy Academy. I'd like to thank M.Gilliard, our principal, who has asked me to write an account of my time here.

Two years ago, I was still living with my father. I often dressed in sportswear; I loved Adidas clothes, so comfortable and easy to put on. Did I do any sport? No, not at all, but my mates dressed the same, so I followed suit. When I wasn't at school, I used to play video games all the time. I wore my clothes for days on end because I was too lazy to change. My bedroom was a real dump, with everything strewn all over the place. My diet consisted of eating chips and drinking sodas.

My father was fed up with my bad behavior. He works in business, economics, something like that. My mother left us when I was a kid, and since then it's just been me and him. He'd tell me to “tidy my room”, “get dressed properly”. But I didn't give a damn, soon, I thought, I'll be able to leave soon, and I thought I'd be able to live with a friend in a flat-share for a bit of fun.

There was a week when I made a decision that I had regretted at the time but that now makes me what I am. That week, it was at the beginning of my school year and I was playing a game that was too epic and I wanted to do it too much, so I made my dad think I was going to high school while I was pretending. Then, when he left for work, I'd come back and play on my P.S. console. But my stupidity caught up with me, and my father was contacted by the school and told of my repeated absences. It was a Thursday lunchtime, I remember, and he came home to find me quietly in bed. He came into my dirty room and said:

" Elliot, that's enough! You're not going to school anymore, you're dressing like crap. Look at you, you've got holes in your clothes. You haven't washed or combed your hair in days. Things are going to change for you. A colleague at work told me about a boarding school that would be perfect for you. "

I was on my phone when he said this so I half-listened, as usual. He was clearly desperate about my behavior and had every reason to be. Now I understand. At the end of the afternoon, my father called me and reminded me that he had to take me to the dentist for an annual check-up. I'd completely forgotten, it wasn't something I was interested in remembering. I stayed in the same clothes and he took me to the dentist. I really didn't remember the appointment. Once there, my father accompanied me inside. A waiting room with other parents and their teenagers. There were guys from high school, who were also dressed in sweatpants and sweatshirts and sneakers. I wasn't the only one who dressed like that, which is why it seemed normal to do so. When it was my turn, the dentist called me in. I sat down in his dentist's chair. He asked me to lie down so he could check the inside of my mouth. He put some products in my mouth to relax it. And these products were starting to put me to sleep; he'd put in more than usual.

I had fallen asleep on his armchair, I didn't know for how long. When I woke up, my hands were tied tightly to the chair. I tried to speak, but my mouth was still anesthetized. My father was talking to the dentist, and they were both looking at me. My father had collected my things, my bag and my phone. Looking around, I soon realized that I wasn't really at the dentist. The man posing as one approached me and said:

"Elliot, your father, has informed us of your behavior at home and has decided to leave you with us for a while. Do you agree? "

I couldn't answer as my mouth was still anesthetized.

" Since you're not answering my question, I imagine you're completely in agreement. If you don't say anything within a minute, we'll assume you agree."

I was trying to speak to refuse and scream for help, but only discreet moans came out.

" Then we do have your agreement. "

My eyes began to tire again and I finally dozed off again.

I don't know what treatment he gave me, but it was like a dissociation. I saw myself outside my body like a ghost looking at my body. My father left with my things. The staff laid me properly on the bed and undressed me. I was completely naked at one point. They put a red ball in my mouth and covered my mouth with a gag that held with a tight strap behind it. I was as if unable to act, in the hands of my kidnappers. They dressed me in a white short-sleeved polo shirt, buttoned all the way up, tucked into khaki shorts with a brown belt, white knee-high socks and black loafers. They then cut my hair and styled it, neatly styled to the side and held with wax. I began to regain consciousness little by little, but I felt as if I were paralyzed in my own body, between the products that were still taking effect and the bonds that prevented me from fleeing.

"Elliot, you're back with us. We've prepared you in a more respectable outfit than the garbage you used to wear. This preppy outfit suits you much better. Your hair looks much better like this. You probably have a lot of questions, but you're in good hands. I'm Doctor Greenwood, I'm here when sometimes you need a little push to get you into the Academy. I'll leave you here tonight and you'll make your official entrance tomorrow. "

I was stuck on this bed for several hours, and above me they'd set up a screen with a series of images and sounds that I had no choice but to watch. And no matter how tempted I was to close my eyes, a deep voice kept reading every word on the moving image. Eventually, I fell asleep to the rhythm of the video, which hypnotized me as it went along.

“I want to be a preppy boy. Good preppy boys must obey, serve, submit, behave. Good boys comply. I want to be a good preppy boy” again and again and again...

This mantra was stuck in my head like music that never wants to come out. I still felt resistance, an urge to rebel and run away, but I was blocked and strangely began to feel pleasure at the idea of being a good preppy boy.

When I woke up, four men in their thirties, all dressed in pastel shirts tucked into their pants, with bowties and loafers, took me by force. They took me by the arms and forced me to follow them. They put me in a van and tied me up. My gag was still in my mouth and I couldn't scream. I was at their mercy, with no power or control over the situation. I was their object.

I was taken to a large, ivy-league type establishment, at the top of the main entrance is written “Preppy Academy”. I was led inside and up the stairs. I arrive in a very elegant office, with wood paneling and bookcases on every wall. The 4 men undress me.

I find myself in a preppy outfit: a white and blue striped OCBD shirt, pastel yellow shorts, red and blue suspenders, a dark blue and red striped tie tied around my neck, long white knee-high socks and dark loafers. Nothing to do with my outfits at home. I've been completely transformed into a preppy boy. I'm left with my hands tied and my mouth gagged in this office. I don't know what to do, I'm a slave to this establishment. My outfit isn't as comfortable as the one at home, I can feel the fabric of my shirt on my torso compressing me, the suspenders holding my shorts are like two ropes binding my outfit to my body, the pulled-up socks are so humiliating, I feel like a boy. But as I think I'm disgusted by my outfit, I realize that it actually turns me on. I like to think I have to be dressed like this to feel good. A few minutes later, a man in his fifties walks in. He's dressed in a nice three-piece suit, with a red tie. He looks at me deeply:

"Hello Elliot! Welcome to the Preppy Academy. Your father told me you weren't behaving properly at home. He contacted us and paid for your enrollment. Whether you like it or not, you're staying here. You'll wake up here and sleep here. Your education needs to be reviewed. You must learn to be a good preppy boy for your superiors. I am M.Gilliard, the principal of this prestigious establishment. I am the Master of all the students here. You owe me obedience, submission, service and respect. "

These words enchanted me, and even though I wanted to leave, I could only nod in agreement.

"To complete your admission among us, I must collect something. "

The 4 young men from earlier return and make me sit down on the chair, holding me tight. Mr. Gilliard unzips my pants and pulls out my penis. I start moaning, not agreeing with what's happening. Mr.Gilliard puts a sort of cage on my penis, forcing it to stay very small and any erection would hurt.

" It's called a chastity cage. I'm the only one who keeps the keys. Every good boy here is caged. Your personal pleasure doesn't matter; you're here to obey and learn to serve. Your only satisfaction at the end of the day is to please men superior to you. "

“I want to be a preppy boy. Good preppy boys must obey, serve, submit, behave. Good boys comply. I want to be a good preppy boy”. This phrase made more and more sense. I was introduced to the establishment, the rules to follow and taken to a room I had to share, with a wardrobe full of preppy clothes, nothing I'd had before.

I've been here for two years now and I don't want to leave. I like to serve my Master when he asks for it. I like being a good preppy boy. Obedient and helpful. I don't miss my old life anymore. I encourage all boys and men to come to the Preppy Academy. You'll love it!

#preppyacademy #preppification #preppy #preppyboys #ivy league #boardingschool #obediance #obedient

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i-like-forcefem · 15 hours

Note

PURELY hypothetically speaking, how EXACTLY would you go about forcefemming a guy who’s sooo masc, like he thinks he’s the ALPHA SHIT, he thinks he pulls all the ladies and is the most manly man to ever man… and turning “him” into an adorable little girly princess :3c asking for a friend

For a hard boiled egg like this it’s very important to get her alone in an isolated location for an extended period of time! It always takes a little longer then they’ve got pride, but honestly that makes it so so much more fun when they crack

It’s a bit of a staple, but I think I’ll use my Basement, yes it’s generic, but it’s tried and true, and a girl like this isn’t a time to experiment

Getting her to the basement is usually easy enough, just invite her over for tea or something and apply a little posion of your choice that will have her immobilised, sleepy pills work, but I personally prefer it when you can see the fear in her eyes when they get fully paralysed

I always have my basement prepared for new arrivals, this means a firm lock, and plenty of hand cuffs around the walls and girly furniture for if I want to move her around

The first time she wakes up is always so important and so so fun, so I’ll pick out a good spot to tie her up, I think the plushy couch would be good for this cutie, and make sure to pick a good outfit

For a girl like this I think it’d be best to start with her in just a pair of pink panties, just being handcuffed in a hugging position with a plushy against her skin should be enough embarrassment for the wake up, I’ll also be sure to use my princess gag just to make her first impressions extra cute as she makes muffled screeches

Then I’ll wait till she wakes up, I usually monitor a camera from outside the room and wait to enter, I want her to get a feel for the room and her situation before she sees me, 2 minutes is usually enough for her to glance around the overly girly room, notice she’s tied up, and to start her muffled screams

Then I’ll calmly enter and tell her how she’s my doll now, she’ll have objections of course, being a big bugle “man”, but it’s pretty hard to do anything about your situation when tied up like that

And then I’ll play it slow

I think I can have her docile by the end of the day, dress her up in her first dress (the basement can get very cold so if she doesn’t want to wear her dress that’s fine by me, but she’ll give in by the end of the second day, and to survive that long I’ll probably get some adorable footage of her willingly snuggling up with her many many plushies, hard to think a “man” would do that)

Any food I give her will obviously have hrt inserted into it, but in this case in particular I want to try something new, next to her (estrogen filled) meals I’ll also give her some placebo pills I’ll tell her are actually hrt, and if she’s a Good Girl and takes her pills she’ll be rewarded

Obviously she’ll refuse at first, willingly taking pills is one of the hardest milestones for a girl to pass

But always giving her the option always gives me to opportunity to punish her, and to tell her just how easy it’d be if she just submitted, became my pretty little girl

Now some of the girls have a surprising amount of determination to not become happy, so this might take a while, which is why I’ll give her her hrt anyway

Since it will be so so fun to tease her for it, I could maybe even gaslight her into thinking she might be taking the pills anyway, or her body wants to become a girl so so bad that’s it’s making estrogen all on its own

You’d be surprised how much gaslighting you can get away with if you’re a persons only outside contact

So… I’ve got some plans to say the least!!! I’ve got a whole laundry list of activities we could try every week to keep it fresh (from shock collars to vibrators to bondage, to “toy” pink weightlifting products that are 10 times the weight it says on the box, I will have so much fun breaking her :3)

Now do you have any idea where this hypothetical person is? And do they prefer tea or coffee?

#we also have water #but it doesn’t hide the taste of posion well #so then ill just get my hands dirty and cuff you while you’re still conscious #don’t worry I’m stronger then I look :3 #.#forcefem #i-like-talking #asks open!#..#no proof reading for this one either x3 #maybe I should do a post every 2 days so that I can get better ones out there?#hmmm #we’ll see #please tell me what you think of this!!!

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nocturnowlette · 19 hours

Note

What's your take on/advice to subjects with aphantasia? I'm very new to hypnosis and find myself struggling a lot with visualizations, given that isn't really something I'm capable of.

Aphantasia does not make hypnosis even the slightest bit less effective, or the difference is minimal at best.

A very important part of perception that you and many others would benefit from knowing is the effects of expectations and the systems we create for ourselves.

This most commonly happens with folks that struggle with productivity, like critters with ADHD. I am one such being.

I would, in the past, constantly try to create systems of incentives for myself that made things worse because what I was ultimately doing was creating a win state that didn't feel good and an arbitrarily set loss state that made me feel terrible.

Example:

If I work for 20 minutes and then take a break for 10, it didn't feel good to work for those 20 minutes successfully, but if I wasn't able to go back to working immediately after the 10 minute break, I failed and my shame response would compound my inability to work and would shut down my ability to do anything for hours.

What you are doing as a subject in this case is taking the concept of aphantasia and the word "visualization" and creating the idea that you need to actually visualize in order for it to work. You should treat it like you would descriptive writing in a novel. You don't need to visualize a setting in a novel to understand it.

If I say there's a neon sign hanging above a bar at night with the name "The Bottlecap", you are able to understand and conceptualize it without seeing it.

The point of visualizations is to compartmentalize something in your brain. We do this all the time and without visuals whatsoever, even giving a name to something like "stress" compartmentalizes it from other feelings. Visualizations in hypnosis link and isolate specific parts of the brain so they can be "narratively" affected and affect your perception as a result.

If I tell you to focus on these words that you've been reading for a long time already, and focus, and focus more, and then to use that focus to conceptualize a bubble representing your thoughts, then your brain has done that no matter the visualization.

You can conceptualize that it is slightly purple-ish, that it is translucent, and even without seeing it, each dedication to detail makes you focus on that concept more. This bubble represents your thoughts. And so, if I were to gently bring a claw up to its surface, I could easily make it...

Pop!

...that's the idea anyhow. Try to be aware of the systems you create in your head, and to realize when one is more harmful than helpful.

Have a nice day.

#owlette #hypnosis #hypnok1nk #hypnokink #aphantasia #hypnoposting #hypnosis advice #hypno advice #hypnotism #hypno k1nk #hypno fantasy #hypno pet #hypnodomme #hypnotized #hypnosub

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eldritch-spouse · 2 days

Note

Was reading through the Berle tag, and was hit with this random brain worm-

Imagine you're visiting the Glutton ring of hell -either as a tourist or simply visiting some friends who live within that circle- and, as a treat, you drop into Berle's ice cream parlor. A nice sweet and cooling slice of heaven to be found amongst the smoldering heat of hell. Of course you've heard of the place before. With it being so famous, a damn-near requirement to stop by whenever you're in Glutton. You've heard of the complex and wide range of flavors that are served there. Some flavors you wouldn't even have come close to considering possible ice cream flavors. Some of them honestly sound downright repulsive, but you have learned not to judge. Let others live their happiness, and focus on living your own.

Okay, so maybe you had alternative motives when you made a detour on your way to whatever place you're staying at, to step into Berle's highly air-conditioned shop. You were on a mission. A rather childish and, to others, pointless one. But to you, it was of high importance, you just had to know! Did they sell your favorite ice cream flavor. It wasn't like you had odd tastes, you weren't searching for a thanksgiving dinner flavored scoop of creamy goodness, but for whatever reason, you just could never seem to find a place that sold your favored flavor. Anytime you'd go to a grocery store, or any other ice cream shop, it'd be the first thing you'd search out. Always feeling disappointed and a bit let down when your hopeful searches turned up empty. At this point, you'd marry someone in order to satiate your cravings. And you say so, more so to yourself than anyone else, as you looked over the offered flavors for that day.

You don't think anyone had heard you, and even if they did, you didn't think much of it. Didn't think anyone would care. How wrong you were. How unaware and cutely ignorant you were of the future you had unknowingly spoken into existence. Even if you didn't truly mean it. You were just making a joke about how much you wanted to indulge in your sought after treat again. The demon behind the counter, who had found his eyes stuck to you since you had entered his shop, and was watching you with sickly sweet hunger as you scanned over his products, had heard you loud and clear.

If he doesn't have what you're looking for, if you just give him a bit he promises you he can cook it up for you! While he's doing that, you can pick out your guys rings. You can propose to him once you get back.

((Also, I don't know if you do anons, but if you do can I either be Isopod anon or 🧠 anon?)

[I don't really tag anons, but we have a few yes, I'll remember you.]

There's been a number of asks regarding Berle that sort of sound like "I'd only humor him if he had [X] flavor", which is selling yourself short, because if there's one location in the world where you're likely to find the most niche flavors of ice cream, it would be Gluttony, especially Berle's Sorbet place.

You're even more cooked in this scenario because, the way you worded it almost makes it sound like a deal proposition, and the prince is going to swoop in immediately. He accepts your deal, formalizes it in a manner much too quick for you to realize, and by fulfilling the request you set forth, he in turn expects you to remain true to your end of the deal.

This is something he'll continue to hold over your head. You made a deal, you made an open deal, and he fulfilled it. Don't be silly, there are consequences for your actions!

So anyway, time to cook in advance for the ceremony, would you like to help Berle? He's going to make a wedding themed slime cream for the occasion and he'd like his bride's input.

#Berle oc

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rosenclaws · 15 hours

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omg your Eddie headcanons are amazing!!!

how do you think Eddie would react if someone caught him having sex with you?

Hi Thank you!! okay fun fact I went back to the movie to look for something and I got distracted and ended up watching like half the movie again oops.

warnings: MINORS DNI, casual sex, quickie.

Getting Caught with Eddie Alden

Okay so here's the deal. You work with Eddie at the Diane Roberts show. You're just a writer while he's a writer and producer of the show. So you see a lot of him and his womanizing ways are very well known throughout the whole production.

It seemed that you were his next target and at first you laughed in his face because you were not about to be added to a long list of names that have spent the night in his bed.

But for some reason he kept trying. You would think he would take the rejection and move on but he was determined. After weighing the pros and cons (plus a little bit of alcohol) you agreed. Casual only.

You fully knew that this was a one night thing for him and you wanted the same. Just good sex.

After that night well, you hate to admit it but fuck he was amazing. Like so insanely good it's a little annoying. You expected him to go back to being his cocky, slightly asshole self once you saw each other the next day but he was right back in your space.

So, maybe against your better judgement you agree to become friends with benefits.

Eddie couldn't get enough of you, it was strange because he doesn't do this, he doesn't feel this attraction but shit you did something to him. One night with you and he craved more.

So, you and Eddie are sleeping together and still working together. It's playful and there's a lot of teasing and banter and one night you both have to stay late to help write the next couple shows. Her monologue and scripting the show.

It's just the two of you and well...One thing leads to the next and Eddie has you pinned on the table. Kissing your neck and hands going right to your pants. You practically rip his shirt off, not caring that you're about to fuck on the writers table.

You two waste no time. His pants lowered just enough for him to get his dick out. It's hot and steamy and messy and fuck it feels so damn good. One of his hands is under your head, protecting it from hitting the table with each of his thrust's and the other is propping him up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The door slams open and you two whip your heads towards the door, totally fucking caught.

It's the night security guard. Fuck. Eddie moves to cover your as best he can as he tries to play it off. Luckily he's a pretty well liked guy and even though this is a very fireable offense he convinced the guy not to tell as long as you never do it again and disinfect the table.

When the guard leaves you are completely mortified. You want to curl up into a ball and die. Eddie tries his best to lighten the mood. It was partially his fault anyways. He cracks jokes until you laugh.

"There's that smile."

You tell him this can never happen again but he tilts his head and smirks. You throw his shirt in his face to wipe that stupid smug look off his face but he just laughs.

You two get redressed and decide to back to his place to..finish working. On the scripts of course.

The next day you can't stop replaying in your head your night with Eddie as you sit at the writers room. The smirk he gives you at the other side of the table tells you that he is thinking the same thing.

After the meeting he pulls you into a janitors closet, winking and promising you that as long as you keep quiet, no one will catch you this time.

#eddie alden #eddie alden x reader #hugh jackman x reader #someone like you #eddie alden smut

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twopoppies · 18 hours

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https://www.tumblr.com/twopoppies/762188095662735360/wow-looks-like-irving-just-made-himself-a-boat

i don’t understand any of this stuff, but i thought harry was the owner of his music? with erskine and all that. is it the distribution rights that were sold? sorry, i’m dumb when it comes to this

These questions are in reference to this anon I got last night:

As far as I understand (and please someone correct me if I’m wrong or left something out), GMR is a Performance Rights Organization (PRO) like ASCAP, SEASAC, or BMI.

What is a PRO?

The way people and businesses play, purchase, listen to, and consume music has changed drastically in recent times. Revenues related to purchases of physical media and downloads are fading. Now, the attention is turning more than ever towards other sources of royalty revenues, such as performance rights. PROs play a major role collecting these rights and they monitor the compliance of businesses playing music in public.

PROs are in charge of administering the rights of songwriters and publishers. These duties include the collection and distribution of royalties on their behalf. It would be practically impossible for these creators to pick up their royalties one by one. There are too many instances, from digital platforms to physical venues, in which where their rights are being used. This network of agencies work to make sure that people pay all the royalties. In order to do this, they have close contact with different music platforms and checking physical locations, to collect and distribute them on the creators behalf.

From what I understand, Azoff’s stated intention in forming this group was to make sure artists were paid their fare share of royalties, given that the rules hadn’t been updated to take into account the current ways people consume music.

From GMR’s website:

Basically, any business that uses music (or portions of music) in a public way must pay to license that music from GMR (or any of the other three PROs).

Who needs to buy a license?

So, if you have a restaurant that plays music in the background, if you use music when people are out on hold when they call your business, if you have a store that plays music while people shop… you have to have a license so that the artists/songwriters are paid each time their work is used.

More details here x

Are there any exceptions? Yes.

The only exception is for broadcast radio and tv in businesses under 2000 square feet (3750 square feet for restaurants). Note: this rule applies only to “over-the-air” broadcasts, not internet streams or any other source of music. You’ll also be playing any DJ banter, unfiltered lyrics, and commercials for your competitors. Plus, there may be additional fees based on your type of establishment. For example, if you own a restaurant or bar that features live music, if there is a fee for entering your establishment, or if there is a physical activity coordinated with the music (such as public skating or dancing).

What is UMPG?

UMPG is an enormous music publishing company that offers a variety of different services. These range from administration services to creative services and much more.

They offer their services to companies including Universal Pictures, Warner Bros. Pictures, Lionsgate, MGM, Paramount, Disney Europe (and other territories), Viacom, Amazon, HBO, DreamWorks, DreamWorks Animation, Legendary Pictures, Mar Vista Entertainment, NBC and Sesame Workshop, among many others.

Universal Music Publishing Group’s Film & TV Department creates opportunities for and licenses their catalog of songs to film, television, advertising, computer games, and stage production. This is often referred to as ‘synchronization’.

UMPG focuses on traditional music publishing, licensing songs for use in film, TV, commercials, and more, and handling royalties for its songwriters. GMR focuses on managing public performance rights for a select group of high-profile artists. It offers more personalized and tailored services but is invitation-only, making it more selective and exclusive than UMPG.

Harry seems to have his music listed with both companies, as they handle different aspects of royalties.

TL;DR As far as I can tell (and I'm far from an expert), this all boils down to:

Erskine Records is primarily concerned with the release and distribution of Harry's music, partnering with Sony for wider reach. This covers the production, distribution, and promotion aspects of his music.

UMPG (Universal Music Publishing Group) manages his publishing rights. They handle songwriting royalties, licensing his music for use in films, TV, commercials, and other media, and collecting royalties when his songs are performed, played on the radio, or streamed online.

GMR (Global Music Rights) deals with performance rights. They ensure that when Styles' music is publicly performed (e.g., at concerts, in public spaces, etc., as explained above), the proper royalties are collected and distributed to him.

Additionally, we don't know how much of the GMR catalog has been sold. Nor do we know what the private equity firm plans to do with what it's bought. From the bit of research I've done, it seems that there is a move toward selling catalogs to private equity firms. For those firms, owning these rights is about more than passive income—it's about actively enhancing the value of the music through aggressive licensing, smarter technology, and even repackaging or reselling portions of the catalog for a higher return.

More info on that here and here

That's the best I can offer for now.

#long post #irving azoff #global music rights #erskine records #harry's career #music business #music industry #gmr #gmr sells catalog

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quotidian-oblivion · 2 days

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How do you get people to interact more with your fanfic?

I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

Mainly because I love ranting about psychological patterns and discussing analytical points on stuff like this.

So the following tips are general things which can be used for any kind of advertising, I will let you know when something is fanfiction specific. These are just personal tips from the stuff I learnt in psych class, stuff I learned while being in a professional environment, stuff I learnt through programs and stuff, and just stuff I've learned through experience. SO GET READY!

The first thing you should know before following any of this is: Don't let disappointment crush your life. Look, sometimes nothing works the way we want and it's bound by fate to crash. Don't let it stop you from living your life or trying new things or doing things which you love. If you lose interest in something, fine, it's okay. Really. There are quintillions of things in this world and you have only one of them in your hand. Get out there. Do stuff.

Now, let's see.

1. Networking

Always, always, always say this when someone wants something to be known. Because this is how it works:

Alexandra 👧 is very excited about her cookies. This is her first time baking them and she thinks it's the best thing ever! So she tells her friend Mariam 🧕about it and asks Mariam to try one. Mariam does and she enjoys the cookies very much because they're halal and so she is able to eat them and enjoy them!

One day, Mariam 🧕 is talking about baking to her work friend Bethany 👩 and she mentions Alexandra's cookies. Alexandra 👧 was regularly making cookies so Mariam 🧕 took some and gave one to Bethany 👩. Bethany ate it and enjoyed it very very much!

Mariam 🧕 also gave a cookie sample to her mother, father, sister and brother. They loved it very much and enjoyed them.

Bethany 👩 was later craving some cookies so she asked Mariam for more and Mariam directed her to Alexandra 👧. Alexandra and Bethany met and chatted and Alexandra gave her more cookies.

Time passed, and Alexandra one day got up from bed and started her routine of making morning cookie when she realized... she has three hundred people who were asking for her cookies and some were overseas too, asking for her cookies. She had started a whole business simply by talking to people. Wasn't that an awesome way the world worked? 🍪

Okay, so here's what happened: one person told another person about their product. Assuming that person is a very sociable person, they told their family, friends and whoever they came into contact with about the product when a related topic was brought into the conversation. The people who heard about the product from her are 80% from the same culture as her, so there is one type of community who knows about the product and may or may not purchase it. Either way, if they remember or if it's relevant, they will bring up the product to other people and those people will tell other people and the cycle will go on.

But then, one of those people has a connection to a person outside of that community, and that person may or may not purchase the product and like it. And if they like the product, they will remember it and they'll tell others about it and soon, a whole new community will know about the product and may or may not purchase it or spread information about it.

The cycle goes on and on because humans are literally like the strands of a spider's web. They're connected with the entire world one way or another, no matter how far their connection points are.

That's why networking is so important. And you'll see that the best kind of advertising is when it's someone you know recommending you to try something. This is a type of social conformity and it's beautiful to see how humans love sharing things. Use this aspect of humanity to show what you have to offer to the world.

I don't necessarily use marketing stuff for my fanfics except sometimes because a) I just like writing and posting things and b) going full on marketing is exhausting and I'd much rather save up that energy for money-making things or irl things. For me, fanfiction just happens. But I totally and absolutely respect people who do what they can to reach out and show off their work to everyone as they should! I like it when people do that because it means that they're proud of what they created and humans are sharing creatures, so when they share, it strengthens human connection and that's beautiful.

So, in terms of advertising and marketing, it's very very necessary to network.

How do you network?

I'm glad you asked! In terms of fanfiction, here's what you can do:

Follow: Follow and keep following people on tumblr, no matter how many digits your following stats show. My following stats are nearly in quadruple digits cuz I abesnt-mindedly click the follow button lmao. The good thing about this is that the more you follow people, the more the chance that they might see the notification and check out your blog and come into contact with your fanfiction.

Post: This seems obvious, but there's more to it. The more you post on ao3 or whichever platform you use, the more your username appears to people and the more people might see and register and remember your name and check out your account. In terms of fanfiction though, I'd suggest you post only things you want to, don't pressure yourself to write please. Fanfiction is one of the things that are meant to be enjoyable and if you don't enjoy it, then even if you get like a thousand kudos, you will still not feel happy because you're tired from all the forced content.

Content: In order for more views or people to see your stuff, not just fanfiction but anything in general, then your content must be memorable. Alexandra's cookies were memorable bc of their taste, which is why Mariam and Bethany were able to remember it and pass it on to other people and ask Alexandra for more of it. The content can be a) very good in quality b) have a lot in quantity (only works on some stuff) c) be very beautiful or pretty or noticeable d) content is posted on a regular schedule e) be relatable. The content has to be something that is memorable. The two best ways a content is memorable is if it's either very good in quality or relatable. In terms of fanfiction, the plot would be brilliant or the writing would be brilliant, or the plot would be something the readers wanted to see like a certain trope or an underrated trope which is in demand. Or the plot is something that has happened to the readers and provided them with a secondary experience (this, you cannot control).

Creator: The creator of the content must also be memorable. Because content can get lost sometimes. Bethany may forget where she got the cookies from had she not had that chat with Alexandra. Fanfiction titles can get lost and people might not remember. Authors are easier to remember than fanfiction titles a lot of the times because there's that human-human connection. So in the author's notes maybe you drop some lore about the story you've written, or mention something crazy that happened to you while writing the story, or you rant about a part of the fandom you are or maybe analyse a thing from canon. Whatever it is. In terms of fanfiction, it's especially good for your author's notes to relate to the story. But since it's fanfiction and it's literally something I do for fun, I use the author's notes to just... talk 😅. I really don't care if people read it or not, I'd like it if people read my notes and comment on something they want to comment on because I love holding conversations in the comments. Which brings me to another thing: Answering comments can be a way for you to be noticed. But not just any answers, if the commenter has left a unique comment or if it holds something like an analysis or something, then replying in equal to it means that the reader may see your reply and your name appears twice in their brains, creating a wrinkle in the brain which stores your name. BUT. Since it's fanfiction and it's something fun (wow, that's becoming my phrase) I hold conversations in the comments because I like talking to people. Fun fact! The way I talk in text, like with the "uh"s and "um"s and the elipsis and stutters is literally how I talk irl. Even the word "lol" and "lmao" I actually do say those words irl lmao. So my replies to comments take a while because sometimes I don't have the energy to hold conversations or interact with people and I just don't feel like a simple "thanks!" and heart emoji is enough. Another fun fact about me.

Other ways to reach: Tumblr has been a huge part in people discovering my fics because I like socializing with people on there :) I like sending asks to people, I like messaging them, I like talking to them over reblogs even if it means scrolling all the way down my screen, I like doing tag games, I like collaborating with people on different projects. I like doing all this because it's like... I'm better in terms of talking online than irl because there's not pressure of facial expressions and since I can get quiet irl sometimes, I utilise my ability to be able to actually socialize online. I love my moots and our conversations ^^ So it's not advertising in my book, but it is a strategy to use when you want to market something. I use it irl when I want to be noticed for a job or for a position or if I want to sell something, I make friends all around and make sure they're okay with me talking about the thing I want to sell or talking about me being good for a position so when the time comes, they can purchase something or I can use them as referees. In fact, this is a very, very very important tactic to use in the professional world. Make. Work. Friends. Make work friends, they're so so helpful and make sure that you're a work friend for someone too, because it all only works in reciprocity. Becase when you make a friend, a friend will behave like a friend. And friends (good friends), check out each others' works or interests at the very least. Even if they're not interested, they're willing to hear about it. But other than tumblr, there's another big thing you can do: READ AND COMMENT ON OTHER PEOPLE'S WORKS!!! PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEE. TRY TO COMMENT ON EVERY SINGLE FIC YOU READ. Fanfiction is a community. If you don't take part in it, you'll be left out. It's a rule, I'm sorry, but that's how humans work. Wherever you live, if you don't take part in the community you're in, you'll be left out. It's the real world, kids.

2. Quality of content

We already touched base on this and I've said quite a lot on it already, but. This is definitely something I do for my fics in terms of advertising (and also self-improvement). Because no one will want to read something which has the grammar of a kindergartner and has a plot as obscure as a sphinx's riddle.

Improving your product, constantly and regularly is very, very important. If you compare my first work to my most recent one (okay- maybe not my most recent one, cuz the current fic I'm posting rn is something I wrote after months of writer's block), you'll see that there has been a drastic improvement. So.

How do you improve the quality of your work?

I'm glad you asked that too!

Peers: Have people or friends you made online or irl who look over your writing and provide feedback. If you look into my yes beta and no beta tags and also see how many people I've co-written with, you'll see that I interact and involve a lot of people a lot of the time with my writing. It's a) because self-improvement is awesome and b) just having people involved in your interest is awesome!

Open mind: Always have an open mind when it comes to creating. If someone has a mindset of "I'm already good at this" or "I can do wayyy better than this writer", they will never, ever, ever, ever, ever improve and therefore they will never get the amount of attention they want. Trust me, I've met people like those, and they're arrogant assholes. Sure, you will feel like that sometimes, and yes, I feel like that sometimes too. But here's the thing: use it to your advantage. I've come across many fics which I thought "oh my God, the plot/writing is so shit", but I never voiced it out loud. If it was something that really irked me, I complained about it to my friends privately, but didn't (or tried not to) mention the name to protect the integrity and passion of the creator. What I did instead was something that was better for me: I let it improve my work instead. I intently read the work that annoyed me and when I found exactly what I didn't like about it, I took it in stride and then went back to my own work and made sure that my work didn't have that. It's very humbling to see something you hate and then you go back to your own work and see you have the exact same thing there. Multiple times. It's humbling and also an advantage because you've improved yourself. If you knew the amount of fics I wrote out of spite because I found something I didn't like and wanted to fix it... Yeah. The important thing here is that this process does not disrupt - or even touch - the original creator's process. They are not your responsibility. You are. In this note, be assured: no matter who you are or what your content is, it will always have someone who is yearning to find that exact content. Even if you think it's shit, it will have an audience. And you don't want to pop their bubble do you? So please, please please for the sake of all fanfic readers out there, do NOT enter "I'm so sorry, my writing is bad" or "oh my Goddddd, guys don't read this it's so bad loll" or "I don't really like what I've written here... but here you go anyway!" or anything like that. Do. NOT. It's simply the worst thing you can do to others and yourself.

Find tips: I have a hundred page google doc that is compiled of every single tip I could gather in the year 2022 from tiktok, youtube, pinterest and tumblr. Every. Single. One. I could. Find. And I constantly refer to it when writing. (I also have another google doc full of study tips, and another which is just general tips. Yeah... i had a lot of free time in 2022. I don't now lol, so it hasn't been updated in years)

3. Reaching out

By this, I mean tagging. I use every and any tags in my fics, but only correct or relevant tags. Ao3 is amazing in a way where people will actively search what they're looking for. So a brilliant way where people will find you is when you tag.

Tag correctly. When people tag popular ships or certain characters or other popular tags for "reach", it creates the opposite effect. It will make sure people will never read any of their works again if they can help it because that's just a shitty thing to do.

When you do tag correctly though, you will find the exact people who want to read fics like yours and you will make a name for yourselves.

Tag as much as you can unless it's inappropriate. Tagging everything you can think of is another way to get reach and it's something I absolutely do (and also bc, idk why, but tagging is one of the fun things about posting fics for me lol. Ig I like the organization). Whether it's character trait tags like "Tim Drake Whump" to plot tags like "Ice skating" to genre tags like "Crack and fluff" to warning like "waterboarding", it is a) a way where people who don't/can't read the stuff they want can stay away from it and no one receives hate comments and if they do, well, that reader is just fucking stupid and blind and it's not your fault and b) the people who do want to read those tags will find your fic. Yes, tag everything. Trust me, there will be people scrolling through tags like MCD and Dead Dove (example: me when I'm in a Mood) and when they find your fic, they will be delighted and leave excited comments.

So this isn't exactly very organized lmao, but I typed this up in one sitting. I hope it helps!

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