#dot physical cost

[ultrimio]

Conceptual Design for a Neutrino Power Transmission System

Overview

Neutrinos could potentially be used to send electricity over long distances without the need for high-voltage direct current (HVDC) lines. Neutrinos have the unique property of being able to pass through matter without interacting with it, which makes them ideal for transmitting energy over long distances without significant energy loss. This property allows neutrinos to be used as a medium for energy transmission, potentially replacing HVDC lines in certain applications.

So the goal is to create a neutrino-based power transmission system capable of sending and receiving a beam of neutrinos that carry a few MW of power across a short distance. This setup will include a neutrino beam generator (transmitter), a travel medium, and a neutrino detector (receiver) that can convert the neutrinos' kinetic energy into electrical power.

1. Neutrino Beam Generator (Transmitter)

Particle Accelerator: At the heart of the neutrino beam generator will be a particle accelerator. This accelerator will increase the energy of protons before colliding them with a target to produce pions and kaons, which then decay into neutrinos. A compact linear accelerator or a small synchrotron could be used for this purpose.

Target Material: The protons accelerated by the particle accelerator will strike a dense material target (like tungsten or graphite) to create a shower of pions and kaons.

Decay Tunnel: After production, these particles will travel through a decay tunnel where they decay into neutrinos. This tunnel needs to be under vacuum or filled with inert gas to minimize interactions before decay.

Focusing Horns: Magnetic horns will be used to focus the charged pions and kaons before they decay, enhancing the neutrino beam's intensity and directionality.

Energy and Beam Intensity: To achieve a few MW of power, the system will need to operate at several gigaelectronvolts (GeV) with a proton beam current of a few tens of milliamperes.

2. Travel Medium

Direct Line of Sight: Neutrinos can travel through the Earth with negligible absorption or scattering, but for initial tests, a direct line of sight through air or vacuum could be used to simplify detection.

Distance: The initial setup could span a distance from a few hundred meters to a few kilometers, allowing for measurable neutrino interactions without requiring excessively large infrastructure.

3. Neutrino Detector (Receiver)

Detector Medium: A large volume of water or liquid scintillator will be used as the detecting medium. Neutrinos interacting with the medium produce a charged particle that can then be detected via Cherenkov radiation or scintillation light.

Photodetectors: Photomultiplier tubes (PMTs) or Silicon Photomultipliers (SiPMs) will be arranged around the detector medium to capture the light signals generated by neutrino interactions.

Energy Conversion: The kinetic energy of particles produced in neutrino interactions will be converted into heat. This heat can then be used in a traditional heat-to-electricity conversion system (like a steam turbine or thermoelectric generators).

Shielding and Background Reduction: To improve the signal-to-noise ratio, the detector will be shielded with lead or water to reduce background radiation. A veto system may also be employed to distinguish neutrino events from other particle interactions.

4. Control and Data Acquisition

Synchronization: Precise timing and synchronization between the accelerator and the detector will be crucial to identify and correlate neutrino events.

Data Acquisition System: A high-speed data acquisition system will collect data from the photodetectors, processing and recording the timing and energy of detected events.

Hypothetical Power Calculation

To estimate the power that could be transmitted:

Neutrino Flux: Let the number of neutrinos per second be ( N_\nu ), and each neutrino carries an average energy ( E_\nu ).

Neutrino Interaction Rate: Only a tiny fraction (( \sigma )) of neutrinos will interact with the detector material. For a detector with ( N_d ) target nuclei, the interaction rate ( R ) is ( R = N_\nu \sigma N_d ).

Power Conversion: If each interaction deposits energy ( E_d ) into the detector, the power ( P ) is ( P = R \times E_d ).

For a beam of ( 10^{15} ) neutrinos per second (a feasible rate for a small accelerator) each with ( E_\nu = 1 ) GeV, and assuming an interaction cross-section ( \sigma \approx 10^{-38} ) cm(^2), a detector with ( N_d = 10^{30} ) (corresponding to about 10 kilotons of water), and ( E_d = E_\nu ) (for simplicity in this hypothetical scenario), the power is:

[ P = 10

^{15} \times 10^{-38} \times 10^{30} \times 1 \text{ GeV} ]

[ P = 10^{7} \times 1 \text{ GeV} ]

Converting GeV to joules (1 GeV ≈ (1.6 \times 10^{-10}) J):

[ P = 10^{7} \times 1.6 \times 10^{-10} \text{ J/s} ]

[ P = 1.6 \text{ MW} ]

Thus, under these very optimistic and idealized conditions, the setup could theoretically transmit about 1.6 MW of power. However, this is an idealized maximum, and actual performance would likely be significantly lower due to various inefficiencies and losses.

Detailed Steps to Implement the Conceptual Design

Step 1: Building the Neutrino Beam Generator

Accelerator Design:

Choose a compact linear accelerator or a small synchrotron capable of accelerating protons to the required energy (several GeV).

Design the beamline with the necessary magnetic optics to focus and direct the proton beam.

Target Station:

Construct a target station with a high-density tungsten or graphite target to maximize pion and kaon production.

Implement a cooling system to manage the heat generated by the high-intensity proton beam.

Decay Tunnel:

Design and construct a decay tunnel, optimizing its length to maximize the decay of pions and kaons into neutrinos.

Include magnetic focusing horns to shape and direct the emerging neutrino beam.

Safety and Controls:

Develop a control system to synchronize the operation of the accelerator and monitor the beam's properties.

Implement safety systems to manage radiation and operational risks.

Step 2: Setting Up the Neutrino Detector

Detector Medium:

Select a large volume of water or liquid scintillator. For a few MW of transmitted power, consider a detector size of around 10 kilotons, similar to large neutrino detectors in current experiments.

Place the detector underground or in a well-shielded facility to reduce cosmic ray backgrounds.

Photodetectors:

Install thousands of photomultiplier tubes (PMTs) or Silicon Photomultipliers (SiPMs) around the detector to capture light from neutrino interactions.

Optimize the arrangement of these sensors to maximize coverage and detection efficiency.

Energy Conversion System:

Design a system to convert the kinetic energy from particle reactions into heat.

Couple this heat to a heat exchanger and use it to drive a turbine or other electricity-generating device.

Data Acquisition and Processing:

Implement a high-speed data acquisition system to record signals from the photodetectors.

Develop software to analyze the timing and energy of events, distinguishing neutrino interactions from background noise.

Step 3: Integration and Testing

Integration:

Carefully align the neutrino beam generator with the detector over the chosen distance.

Test the proton beam operation, target interaction, and neutrino production phases individually before full operation.

Calibration:

Use calibration sources and possibly a low-intensity neutrino source to calibrate the detector.

Adjust the photodetector and data acquisition settings to optimize signal detection and reduce noise.

Full System Test:

Begin with low-intensity beams to ensure the system's stability and operational safety.

Gradually increase the beam intensity, monitoring the detector's response and the power output.

Operational Refinement:

Refine the beam focusing and detector sensitivity based on initial tests.

Implement iterative improvements to increase the system's efficiency and power output.

Challenges and Feasibility

While the theoretical framework suggests that a few MW of power could be transmitted via neutrinos, several significant challenges would need to be addressed to make such a system feasible:

Interaction Rates: The extremely low interaction rate of neutrinos means that even with a high-intensity beam and a large detector, only a tiny fraction of the neutrinos will be detected and contribute to power generation.

Technological Limits: The current state of particle accelerator and neutrino detection technology would make it difficult to achieve the necessary beam intensity and detection efficiency required for MW-level power transmission.

Cost and Infrastructure: The cost of building and operating such a system would be enormous, likely many orders of magnitude greater than existing power transmission systems.

Efficiency: Converting the kinetic energy of particles produced in neutrino interactions to electrical energy with high efficiency is a significant technical challenge.

Scalability: Scaling this setup to practical applications would require even more significant advancements in technology and reductions

in cost.

Detailed Analysis of Efficiency and Cost

Even in an ideal scenario where technological barriers are overcome, the efficiency of converting neutrino interactions into usable power is a critical factor. Here’s a deeper look into the efficiency and cost aspects:

Efficiency Analysis

Neutrino Detection Efficiency: Current neutrino detectors have very low efficiency due to the small cross-section of neutrino interactions. To improve this, advanced materials or innovative detection techniques would be required. For instance, using superfluid helium or advanced photodetectors could potentially increase interaction rates and energy conversion efficiency.

Energy Conversion Efficiency: The process of converting the kinetic energy from particle reactions into usable electrical energy currently has many stages of loss. Thermal systems, like steam turbines, typically have efficiencies of 30-40%. To enhance this, direct energy conversion methods, such as thermoelectric generators or direct kinetic-to-electric conversion, need development but are still far from achieving high efficiency at the scale required.

Overall System Efficiency: Combining the neutrino interaction efficiency and the energy conversion efficiency, the overall system efficiency could be extremely low. For neutrino power transmission to be comparable to current technologies, these efficiencies need to be boosted by several orders of magnitude.

Cost Considerations

Capital Costs: The initial costs include building the particle accelerator, target station, decay tunnel, focusing system, and the neutrino detector. Each of these components is expensive, with costs potentially running into billions of dollars for a setup that could aim to transmit a few MW of power.

Operational Costs: The operational costs include the energy to run the accelerator and the maintenance of the entire system. Given the high-energy particles involved and the precision technology required, these costs would be significantly higher than those for traditional power transmission methods.

Cost-Effectiveness: To determine the cost-effectiveness, compare the total cost per unit of power transmitted with that of HVDC systems. Currently, HVDC transmission costs are about $1-2 million per mile for the infrastructure, plus additional costs for power losses over distance. In contrast, a neutrino-based system would have negligible losses over distance, but the infrastructure costs would dwarf any current system.

Potential Improvements and Research Directions

To move from a theoretical concept to a more practical proposition, several areas of research and development could be pursued:

Advanced Materials: Research into new materials with higher sensitivity to neutrino interactions could improve detection rates. Nanomaterials or quantum dots might offer new pathways to detect and harness the energy from neutrino interactions more efficiently.

Accelerator Technology: Developing more compact and efficient accelerators would reduce the initial and operational costs of generating high-intensity neutrino beams. Using new acceleration techniques, such as plasma wakefield acceleration, could significantly decrease the size and cost of accelerators.

Detector Technology: Improvements in photodetector efficiency and the development of new scintillating materials could enhance the signal-to-noise ratio in neutrino detectors. High-temperature superconductors could also be used to improve the efficiency of magnetic horns and focusing devices.

Energy Conversion Methods: Exploring direct conversion methods, where the kinetic energy of particles from neutrino interactions is directly converted into electricity, could bypass the inefficiencies of thermal conversion systems. Research into piezoelectric materials or other direct conversion technologies could be key.

Conceptual Experiment to Demonstrate Viability

To demonstrate the viability of neutrino power transmission, even at a very small scale, a conceptual experiment could be set up as follows:

Experimental Setup

Small-Scale Accelerator: Use a small-scale proton accelerator to generate a neutrino beam. For experimental purposes, this could be a linear accelerator used in many research labs, capable of accelerating protons to a few hundred MeV.

Miniature Target and Decay Tunnel: Design a compact target and a short decay tunnel to produce and focus neutrinos. This setup will test the beam production and initial focusing systems.

Small Detector: Construct a small-scale neutrino detector, possibly using a few tons of liquid scintillator or water, equipped with sensitive photodetectors. This detector will test the feasibility of detecting focused neutrino beams at short distances.

Measurement and Analysis: Measure the rate of neutrino interactions and the energy deposited in the detector. Compare this to the expected values based on the beam properties and detector design.

Steps to Conduct the Experiment

Calibrate the Accelerator and Beamline: Ensure the proton beam is correctly tuned and the target is accurately positioned to maximize pion and kaon production.

Operate the Decay Tunnel and Focusing System: Run tests to optimize the magnetic focusing horns and maximize the neutrino beam coherence.

Run the Detector: Collect data from the neutrino interactions, focusing on capturing the rare events and distinguishing them from background noise.

Data Analysis: Analyze the collected data to determine the neutrino flux and interaction rate, and compare these to

theoretical predictions to validate the setup.

Optimization: Based on initial results, adjust the beam energy, focusing systems, and detector configurations to improve interaction rates and signal clarity.

Example Calculation for a Proof-of-Concept Experiment

To put the above experimental setup into a more quantitative framework, here's a simplified example calculation:

Assumptions and Parameters

Proton Beam Energy: 500 MeV (which is within the capability of many smaller particle accelerators).

Number of Protons per Second ((N_p)): (1 \times 10^{13}) protons/second (a relatively low intensity to ensure safe operations for a proof-of-concept).

Target Efficiency: Assume 20% of the protons produce pions or kaons that decay into neutrinos.

Neutrino Energy ((E_\nu)): Approximately 30% of the pion or kaon energy, so around 150 MeV per neutrino.

Distance to Detector ((D)): 100 meters (to stay within a compact experimental facility).

Detector Mass: 10 tons of water (equivalent to (10^4) kg, or about (6 \times 10^{31}) protons assuming 2 protons per water molecule).

Neutrino Interaction Cross-Section ((\sigma)): Approximately (10^{-38} , \text{m}^2) (typical for neutrinos at this energy).

Neutrino Detection Efficiency: Assume 50% due to detector design and quantum efficiency of photodetectors.

Neutrino Production

Pions/Kaons Produced: [ N_{\text{pions/kaons}} = N_p \times 0.2 = 2 \times 10^{12} \text{ per second} ]

Neutrinos Produced: [ N_\nu = N_{\text{pions/kaons}} = 2 \times 10^{12} \text{ neutrinos per second} ]

Neutrino Flux at the Detector

Given the neutrinos spread out over a sphere: [ \text{Flux} = \frac{N_\nu}{4 \pi D^2} = \frac{2 \times 10^{12}}{4 \pi (100)^2} , \text{neutrinos/m}^2/\text{s} ] [ \text{Flux} \approx 1.6 \times 10^7 , \text{neutrinos/m}^2/\text{s} ]

Expected Interaction Rate in the Detector

Number of Target Nuclei ((N_t)) in the detector: [ N_t = 6 \times 10^{31} ]

Interactions per Second: [ R = \text{Flux} \times N_t \times \sigma \times \text{Efficiency} ] [ R = 1.6 \times 10^7 \times 6 \times 10^{31} \times 10^{-38} \times 0.5 ] [ R \approx 48 , \text{interactions/second} ]

Energy Deposited

Energy per Interaction: Assuming each neutrino interaction deposits roughly its full energy (150 MeV, or (150 \times 1.6 \times 10^{-13}) J): [ E_d = 150 \times 1.6 \times 10^{-13} , \text{J} = 2.4 \times 10^{-11} , \text{J} ]

Total Power: [ P = R \times E_d ] [ P = 48 \times 2.4 \times 10^{-11} , \text{J/s} ] [ P \approx 1.15 \times 10^{-9} , \text{W} ]

So, the power deposited in the detector from neutrino interactions would be about (1.15 \times 10^{-9}) watts.

Challenges and Improvements for Scaling Up

While the proof-of-concept might demonstrate the fundamental principles, scaling this up to transmit even a single watt of power, let alone megawatts, highlights the significant challenges:

Increased Beam Intensity: To increase the power output, the intensity of the proton beam and the efficiency of pion/kaon production must be dramatically increased. For high power levels, this would require a much higher energy and intensity accelerator, larger and more efficient targets, and more sophisticated focusing systems.

Larger Detector: The detector would need to be massively scaled

up in size. To detect enough neutrinos to convert to a practical amount of power, we're talking about scaling from a 10-ton detector to potentially tens of thousands of tons or more, similar to the scale of detectors used in major neutrino experiments like Super-Kamiokande in Japan.

Improved Detection and Conversion Efficiency: To realistically convert the interactions into usable power, the efficiency of both the detection and the subsequent energy conversion process needs to be near-perfect, which is far beyond current capabilities.

Steps to Scale Up the Experiment

To transition from the initial proof-of-concept to a more substantial demonstration and eventually to a practical application, several steps and advancements are necessary:

Enhanced Accelerator Performance:

Upgrade to Higher Energies: Move from a 500 MeV system to several GeV or even higher, as higher energy neutrinos can penetrate further and have a higher probability of interaction.

Increase Beam Current: Amplify the proton beam current to increase the number of neutrinos generated, aiming for a beam power in the range of hundreds of megawatts to gigawatts.

Optimized Target and Decay Tunnel:

Target Material and Design: Use advanced materials that can withstand the intense bombardment of protons and optimize the geometry for maximum pion and kaon production.

Magnetic Focusing: Refine the magnetic horns and other focusing devices to maximize the collimation and directionality of the produced neutrinos, minimizing spread and loss.

Massive Scale Detector:

Detector Volume: Scale the detector up to the kiloton or even megaton range, using water, liquid scintillator, or other materials that provide a large number of target nuclei.

Advanced Photodetectors: Deploy tens of thousands of high-efficiency photodetectors to capture as much of the light from interactions as possible.

High-Efficiency Energy Conversion:

Direct Conversion Technologies: Research and develop technologies that can convert the kinetic energy from particle reactions directly into electrical energy with minimal loss.

Thermodynamic Cycles: If using heat conversion, optimize the thermodynamic cycle (such as using supercritical CO2 turbines) to maximize the efficiency of converting heat into electricity.

Integration and Synchronization:

Data Acquisition and Processing: Handle the vast amounts of data from the detector with real-time processing to identify and quantify neutrino events.

Synchronization: Ensure precise timing between the neutrino production at the accelerator and the detection events to accurately attribute interactions to the beam.

Realistic Projections and Innovations Required

Considering the stark difference between the power levels in the initial experiment and the target power levels, let's outline the innovations and breakthroughs needed:

Neutrino Production and Beam Focus: To transmit appreciable power via neutrinos, the beam must be incredibly intense and well-focused. Innovations might include using plasma wakefield acceleration for more compact accelerators or novel superconducting materials for more efficient and powerful magnetic focusing.

Cross-Section Enhancement: While we can't change the fundamental cross-section of neutrino interactions, we can increase the effective cross-section by using quantum resonance effects or other advanced physics concepts currently in theoretical stages.

Breakthrough in Detection: Moving beyond conventional photodetection, using quantum coherent technologies or metamaterials could enhance the interaction rate detectable by the system.

Scalable and Safe Operation: As the system scales, ensuring safety and managing the high-energy particles and radiation produced will require advanced shielding and remote handling technologies.

Example of a Scaled Concept

To visualize what a scaled-up neutrino power transmission system might look like, consider the following:

Accelerator: A 10 GeV proton accelerator, with a beam power of 1 GW, producing a focused neutrino beam through a 1 km decay tunnel.

Neutrino Beam: A beam with a diameter of around 10 meters at production, focused down to a few meters at the detector site several kilometers away.

Detector: A 100 kiloton water Cherenkov or liquid scintillator detector, buried deep underground to minimize cosmic ray backgrounds, equipped with around 100,000 high-efficiency photodetectors.

Power Output: Assuming we could improve the overall system efficiency to even 0.1% (a huge leap from current capabilities), the output power could be: [ P_{\text{output}} = 1\text{ GW} \times 0.001 = 1\text{ MW} ]

This setup, while still futuristic, illustrates the scale and type of development needed to make neutrino power transmission a feasible alternative to current technologies.

Conclusion

While the concept of using neutrinos to transmit power is fascinating and could overcome many limitations of current power transmission infrastructure, the path from theory to practical application is long and filled with significant hurdels.

[rebelspykatie]

The Gift That Keeps on Giving - Part 1

AO3

Steve’s always been generous with gifts. Growing up, he had access to money that allowed him to dote upon his friends and loved ones. His ex hated it, said he was flaunting his money, but Steve just liked showing people he cared. It wasn’t about the price of the gift, it was about how he listened and remembered their interests. It just benefited him that he never had to worry about the cost. 

He’s never hesitated to follow through on his gut instinct before, whether something will be too extravagant for the receiving party. Even when he got Jonathan that fancy new camera he wouldn’t shut up about, or Nancy that vacation to Singapore for Christmas after two years together. Even when it ended in breakups both times. He still looks back and remembers the appreciative smiles on their faces when they realized he was listening. He may not have been the right person for either of them, but he was still a good boyfriend. 

There’s no way he’s going to let this year be the first year he lets someone down. His current partner is a little eccentric. Steve was going for something different, he never really intended to find a local metalhead that was into his preppy, jock looks, but it’s been nice having so little in common. Every day he learns about something new, some new band or movie that even Robin hasn’t heard of before. It keeps things interesting. 

So when this hot new metal band Corroded Coffin comes onto the scene, it’s all Steve hears about for months. The album is on a constant loop in the car. The lead singer’s face is practically burned into Steve’s eyelids from how many times they’ve watched the music video for their radio single. He knows when they announce their first tour, he absolutely has to get tickets to the show. What are the odds that they’re playing in Indy and it’s right before Christmas? It’s perfect timing for Steve to make this the best Christmas ever for his boyfriend, who doesn’t have the extra cash lying around for an expense like that. 

Except, when he went to buy tickets, he got the date wrong. He should’ve set an alarm, instead of relying on his shitty memory. The presale happened the day prior, and tickets are gone. Resell prices for tickets are astronomical, something even Steve isn’t willing to fork out for what might not even be a legitimate ticket. He’s been burned before with scalpers, he won’t make that mistake again. He starts scouring the internet, trying to find another source for the tickets. Tries calling the venue to see if there are any available if he physically goes down to the ticket office. Nothing works. 

As the date creeps closer, Steve gets desperate. Robin throws out the idea of messaging the band to see if they’re sympathetic to his story. He never expects anyone to respond when they drunkenly reach out to the band, but he wakes up groggy to a message sitting in his inbox. He stares at his phone in disbelief when he sees the message came from the official Corroded Coffin account. 

Steve doesn’t even remember what he said in the messages from the night prior. He reads back over them and cringes. A not so coherent ramble about how he couldn’t become the worst boyfriend ever at Christmas of all times. Just word vomit everywhere about how this guy might leave him if he doesn’t get the tickets. Which is absurd, because his boyfriend doesn’t even know he’s trying to do this. Maybe he’s got some insecurities from past relationships. At least he didn’t bring up Nancy. 

The reply simply reads ‘Slow down there, pretty boy.’ 

He shakes off the last vestiges of sleep and responds ‘Sorry, I was a little drunk and didn’t think anyone was going to see or respond to this.’ 

The little grey dots pop up right away. ‘You weren’t the only drunk insomniac last night.’ 

Steve huffs a laugh. ‘How crazy do you think I am?’ 

He wonders where they are right now, if it even is one of the band members answering. They probably have someone running their social media accounts. He snaps back to reality when he gets another message. ‘I don’t think it’s crazy to want to make your boyfriend happy. I wanna help.’ And that’s how it starts. 

They trade messages back and forth. He finds out it’s not an intern running their account, that they all have access to it, but only one of them enjoys it. The lead guitarist Eddie Munson is apparently the one responding to him. He sent a picture of his guitar with a hand wrapped around it painted with black nail polish. The same hand that wraps around it in their music video, decked out in a dazzling array of chunky rings. 

He’s never talked to a rock star before. Sure, he’s met famous people through his dad, but they were the boring kind of famous, senators and CEOs. Eddie talks about the tour they’re on. It sounds grueling, like their record took off faster than they expected and now they’re on this whirlwind tour that they love, but it’s daunting having people clamoring over you just a few months after anonymity. 

Before long, they’re talking every day. To the point that Steve feels like he hears more from Eddie Munson than his own boyfriend. He realizes how much of a problem it is when Robin catches him smiling at his phone and makes a joke about being in the honeymoon phase, but he’s not texting his boyfriend. He’s messaging Eddie. How did he get so wrapped up in all of this that he didn’t even see how distant they’ve been? He looks back at the messages with his boyfriend and they haven’t text each other in five days. He can’t even count how many messages have been shared between his account and Corroded Coffin’s since then. There’s too many to go back and tally up. 

Is it emotional cheating if he didn’t realize it was happening? One day he barely knew who Eddie was, the next he was grinning in the car when his music came on, thinking of the silly thing they were messaging about last night. Their messages took a turn from him asking for something to getting to know everything about Eddie Munson’s life as a guy raised in a small town and catapulted into the spotlight, and Steve’s attempts to claw his way out of his father’s grasp and build a family he could call his own. The guilt slaps him in the face. He’s been messaging with one of his boyfriend’s favorite band members, and he has no idea. Telling Eddie Munson things he’s never admitted to his boyfriend. Laid all his fears, hopes, and dreams out there to the wrong person. 

He’s lost sight of what he even started this for, to win over his boyfriend and give him the best Christmas ever. It feels weird to bring it up now in conversation with Eddie. To ask for something like a desperate fan and remind Eddie that he’s a commodity to the public feels cheap. This all spiraled out of control so fast. There’s only one thing he can do. End it. Before this gets worse and he falls stupidly in love with some rockstar he’s never seen in person.

Part 2

[shit-talker]

I think a really fun idea to explore with Tim would be the idea of him having Hyperthymesia.

Hyperthymesia is an ability that allows people to recall almost every event of their life in great detail. It's extremely rare and honestly doesn't have that much research done on it, but recent studies have suggested that people with this ability are limited to autobiographical memories, people with HSAM sometime tend to show symptoms of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and may demonstrate obsessive tendencies.

I think it would be an interesting way to explain why Tim was able to recall his first meeting with Dick Grayson and connect the dots to seeing Robin. Tim does display a lot of obsessive behaviours, and while he doesn't really physically display compulsion (like someone with OCD would typically display) there certainly is a strong case to be made for him potentially having it.

But also, can you imagine how fucking horrible it would be for Tim to remember each and every traumatic thing that ever happens to him as a hero and those memories just never fading. Yes, it would make him a better detective and allow him to be arguably smarter than your average joe, but at what cost?

[temiizpalace]

Ahhh ok I love your page so far and this is my first time making an ask so I hope it’s ok. I’ve been craving a little drama for a bit and I had this idea a bit ago and I just wanted to share it :)

Cater, Leona, Riddle taking their s/o home for a Holliday/school break. Reader is sweet & respectful but isn’t afraid to put someone in their place, even royalty. A lil bit of fluff at the end would also be nice. You have creative liberty, it’s your story after all :) don’t forget to eat and drink water, and feel free to ignore this if you want <3

☆┆KNOW YOUR PLACE!

SUMMARY: your partner takes you to his hometown for the break, but you run into someone who thinks they’re a head above the rest..

CHARACTERS: RIDDLE, CATER, LEONA

GENRE: fluff

ROMANTIC

WARNINGS: people are asses

NOTES: i love this idea!! it was a lot of fun to write and i appreciate the request 🫶🫶 hopefully this was up to your standards and you enjoy!

reader is g/n, implied to be yuu

🌹┆RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

“are you sure you’re okay with this..?”

riddle asks hesitantly, standing by the mirror as he fiddled with his fingers. since you had no place to go to over the break, riddle had invited you to his hometown. granted, he was quite nervous in asking you thanks to the relationship with his mother, but the excitement was immeasurable once you agreed to join him.

“of course i am.” you smile, taking his hand gently. “i understand how difficult it is for you to go back, so i want to be there with you.” riddle blushes at your words of kindness, unused to such affections (especially at NRC). he clears his throat and squeezes your hand. “i-if you insist.. we best be on our way then. mother expects us to be there by 8:30 on the dot.”

riddle leads you into the mirror, holding your hand the whole way through. as you stepped into the queendom of roses, you take in the breathtaking sights of the small village in front of you. “i live close by, have you gotten your gift prepared?” he asks, strolling past the various shops and bakeries.

you pause in your tracks, tensing up at the question. “we needed gifts..?” you ask, feeling part of your soul leave your body. riddle stares at you with a dumbfounded expression, utterly shocked at the fact you had come unprepared. he sighs, taking a deep breath. “thank goodness we’re by the shops. on any other occasion i would have your head..” he mumbles, causing you to awkwardly laugh and walk inside the store.

it was a small store selling small things, like purses. however, it’s not the expensive name brand purses that’d cost both your arms, it was cute and little cozy handmade bags that screamed home just by looking at them. you were in awe at the intricate stitches made onto the bag, not to mention impressed by such a simple design. “do you think your mother would like this?”

riddle turned to look at the bag, examining it thoroughly for any rips, tears, or stains. he smiles softly before nodding, holding it up to get another proper look. “i’m sure she’ll love it..”

as you both walk over to the line, chatting away at what you both were going to do on your visit, you had accidentally bumped into a woman covered in jewelry and what seemed to be designer clothing. you can see where this is going, right?

“ah, im sorry.” you quickly apologize. the woman gasps offendedly, looking over to where you had bumped into her. “excuse me? do you know what you just did? you had just RUINED my new designer jacket.” she exclaims, putting the fur jacket near your face. “do you know how much this had cost me? how do you expect to clean this up?”

riddle’s eyebrow twitched, staring at the supposed mark you had left. there wasn’t even a trace of such thing, she was just lying to make extra cash. “actually, i think you had bumped into them.” he answers, trying to be as calm as he physically can. “i wasn’t talking to you, little girl. buzz off.” she angrily glared at riddle before shifting her attention back to you.

as you glanced back at riddle, you could see him seething with anger. he grit his teeth and clenched his fists, not to mention his face was completely red. “ma’am, i in no way have damaged your jacket. you had bumped into me, and what you had said was uncalled for. please do not talk to us again, we are done here.”

you walk away, squeezing riddle’s hand as a way to calm down, but the woman wouldn’t give up. “how dare you defy me.. you little brats!” she grabbed onto your shoulder, trying to pull you back. instinctively, riddle drew his magic pen, but you signaled him not to use it. you push the woman off your shoulder and look at her with disgust laced in your eyes.

“don’t EVER lay your hands on me like that. do that again and i’ll be more than happy to call the authorities.” you had raised your voice, the entire shop looking at the scene. as the woman looks around, she mumbles something before leaving the store. you sigh, not expecting such ignorance from people so soon. “i’m sorry about that, riddle.”

“no, you didn’t do anything. i could’ve used my unique magic on a civilian if you hadn’t stopped me..” he murmurs the end part, but smiles at you nonetheless. “are you going to be alright?” he asks, caressing your cheek. “yeah, ill be fine. it wasn’t anything serious.” you smile back at him, feeling a ray of sun hit both of your figures in the middle of the shop.

“now cmon, let’s purchase this gift for your mother and get outta here.” you laugh, taking his hand and pulling him toward the register.

“..yeah.”

🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“why’d you have to tag along..”

leona grumbles, leading you up to his room for your stay. “because i know you’d skip out on the dinner if i didn’t.” you retort, knowing damn well he appreciates your company.

“pssh.. why does that bother ya?” he murmurs as he opens the door for you like a gentlemen, despite his contradicting remarks. “no reason, i just want you to show more respect for your family is all.” you mention, walking into the large room. it was definitely bigger than his dormitory, and arguably larger than all of ramshackle. but it was nice.

“..do what you want. settle in, im takin’ a nap.” leona strides over to his bed, yawning while stretching his arms. you frown at him as he turns his back to you, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back. leona lets out a surprised grunt before facing you with a scowl. “what the hell was that for-“ he starts before looking at your piercing gaze.

“you’re getting ready for dinner. now.” you demand, standing your ground. he stares at you, no longer having a snarky comment to each word you say. he clicks his tongue before grabbing a nearby outfit and changing in the bathroom. he gave up easier than expected, but at least that means less work for you. speaking of which, you decide to get ready yourself in preparation for the night.

sitting at the table, tensions were high. you expected it just to be leona’s family, but it appears to be a whole system of royals lined up inside the palace. even leona himself was shocked, but he also wasn’t one to keep up on his family events..

the dining hall was incredibly loud. sounds of laughter, bickering, and natural conversation can be heard from every corner. “told ya you shouldn’t have attended.” leona whispers, causing you to raise a brow. “it’s crowded, but i know you’re just trying to find an excuse to leave.”

he frowns before picking at the lettuce on his plate. “you should eat that.” you comment, seeing as the entire steak was gone but the salad was practically untouched (not including him picking at it). “hm? wanna eat it for me instead?” he smirks, about to push the salad onto your dish.

“no way!” you laugh keeping the plate away from him. the night continues, playful laughter exchanges between you both. suddenly, the banter comes to a stop when leona was bumped on the shoulder, and it wasn’t on accident. a snobby looking royal looks back and gives leona a disgusted look.

“my mistake, kingscholar. I didn’t realize second-sons were invited to such a grand event.” the royal chuckles, expecting a groundbreaking reaction from leona. all leona did was furrow his brow before speaking. “yeah well here i am in all my glory. now put a sock in it and get lost.”

the royal flinches, changing the subject to you. “and who might this be? a partner of yours? i had not realized you had one. i never thought you’d get one with such a nasty scar and attitude..”

leona scowls, clenching his fists before suddenly feeling your hand atop if it. “i believe you should show more manners. he may not be king, but he’s royalty just as you are. if you just came to bother him with disrespectful remarks, then i think it’s best you just leave us alone.” you state, leona’s cheeks turning a slightly darker shade.

“who are you to tell me this? you don’t look like royalty, not to mention you reek of no magic. you too attend night raven college don’t you?” he continues, causing your blood to boil. “were you too rejected from royal sword academy? how saddening it is to see.”

you want to punch him, and want to punch him bad. however, you contained yourself and decided to respond respectfully. “acting so snobbish is much more saddening. if royals like you are ruling kingdoms, then i fear its only a matter of time before it falls thanks to a poor king. how about you get your act together and show respect to your peers.” maybe it was a little less respectful than you thought.

“tch. this is not the last of me, kingscholar.” the royal gives up, walking away from the two of you. you smile, looking back at leona, who was a little flustered as you came to his rescue. “i didnt need you to defend me.” he murmurs before averting his eyes to the side. you open your mouth to speak, but get cut off as he suddenly ruffled your hair. “but you got guts.”

you knew this was his way of saying thank you. you laugh. unsure as to why, but something about his awkward ways with affection were definitely charming. “what’s so funny?” he asks, lifting his hand and raising a brow. “ahh, it’s nothing.”

♦️┆CATER DIAMOND

“i have so many things for magicam now!”

cater exclaims, laying out his new props and figures onto the table. after he insisted on you joining him to his hometown, cater took you on a date across town so you can see all the wonderful places the Shaftlands has to offer. you smiled as he already began to take pictures, not hesitating to join in. “they’re adorable, cater! i really like this figure right here.”

you picked up said figure and smiled admiringly at it. cater took in your expression, feeling entranced before snapping out of it. “welll, if you like it so much you can have it!” he exclaims, causing you to shake your head. “no, no! you bought it, it’s yours. i just thought it was nice is all.” you protested, but he wasn’t going down easily.

“well i’d do anything to make my partner happy, so if you like it, it’s yours. no take backs ☆!” he giggles, causing you to pause. “..thank you, cater.” you flash him a smile before watching him take out his phone for a quick photo. with little to no time to react, he had already snapped a photo of you with a huge grin on your face. “hm.. you’re so photogenic, yknow?”

you feel your cheeks get warm at his words, but you came to your senses once you realized you both were in public. “we should pack up the things and get ready to go.” you suggest, cater already being a step ahead of you by packing everything back into its packaging and bag.

a man walks oddly close to the table, but you had decided not to question it. suddenly, in a swift movement one of the expensive props were gone, the man dashing away. “HEY!” you shout, cater looking at you with a look of confusion. “[MC]? is someth— WOAH!” before he could finish, you sprinted towards the thief. the culprit looks back, seeing your angry and annoyed face before turning forward.

“shit..” he mutters trying to pick up the pace. cater follows behind you, feeling tired from running and carrying the bags. “S-SLOW DOWN!” he shouts, but you had one goal in mind. you charged at the mystery thief, a yelp escaping him as he hit the concrete floor. “Give it back.” you stated sternly, pinning his hands behind his back and keeping him in place.

cater catches up, running out of breath as he walked towards you. “hey, what was that about— WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” the culprit struggles, trying to get up off the ground. “LET GO OF ME, FREAK! I DIDN’T DO NOTHING!” you furrowed a brow at him before grabbing the loose stolen item off the ground. “don’t lie. you tried stealing from us. i’m reporting you to police so no poor soul has to deal with you.”

cater looks at you with a puzzled expression before realizing one of his props WERE missing. “i guess i’ll call police then..?” cater awkwardly adds, pulling out his phone to dial the number.

the police eventually show up, taking in the culprit to discover this has happened more than once. he sells these stolen goods for drugs. cater looks at you, a hint of admiration and a little fear could be seen in the glint of his eyes. “hm?” you hum, noticing his staring.

“remind me not to ever steal from you.” he states, replaying the scene back in his head. “you didn’t need to tackle him, it was just one figure!” you shrug before taking his hand in yours gently. “i guess i didn’t want him stealing from you. especially since it was one of the more expensive props.”

“..you’re such an angel.” he states with a look of awe, causing you to laugh. “definitely not, but thank you.” suddenly, an arm pulls you in. your arm comes into contact with caters as he leans in and snaps a quick selfie of you two. he adds the caption before hearing your phone get a notification.

it reads: “my heroic partner ❤️❤️❤️”

you feel your heart beginning to beat faster and your stomach starting to do backflips. just cater doing the bare minimum was enough for you to feel this way. “isn’t it perfect?” he asks, chuckling as you get pulled out of the trance. “..yeah.”

“i like you being my hero.” he smiles, planting a quick kiss on your cheek before tugging your hand. “now cmon, i know this totally adorbs café on the next block and i’ve been dying to take you!”

A/N: WRITERS BLOCK ABSOLUTELY KILLED ME WITH THIS ONE, NOT TO MENTION THE EXAMS UGGGGHHHH

date published: 5/12/24

© temiizpalace — don’t steal or copy my work!

[konpeitonom]

general dating headcanons for captain grant curly.

sfw— lowercase intended ^_^

g/n reader - no pronouns mentioned

requests are open, i do all the characters ^.^

notes; i love this guy. all of these are pre-crash on earth. i would love to write for post-crash/found curly someday perhaps. these are kind of everywhere. not proofread oopsies. wrote them sleep deprived zzz .. going to bed now!

— this man is extremely overbearing when it comes to his love. i mean there’s a reason everyone compares him to a golden retriever.

— in my small brain he is 6’2 and very beefy. he works out! it’s canon! gym bro and will annoy you about your protein intake.. but it’s because he cares!

— he is a morning person. it’s annoying unless you are one too. he will get up at 5 on the dot! he is not a coffee drinker in my opinion, or at least a morning one. he heard cold water is best in the mornings as a teen and stuck with it since.

— by the time you’re awake he’s already had breakfast (prepared you some as well, of course), ran a couple miles, and did all his chores.

— this man is the definition of acts of service. he is extremely considerate. If you're particular about food, how it’s cooked- how it’s served, he will make the effort to do so correctly.

— if you ever bring it up though he’ll just say ‘it’s the bare minimum for a man’ haha

— sort of likes it when you’re sick. not in a weird way, he just thinks it’s cute how you act. and he likes to take care of you. he is a very traditional man in that sense.

— i think he’s very private with his love! like everyone would know you’re together, no doubt about it. maybe subtle hand or cheek kisses in public but not much more than that. i think he thinks love is a very intimate, private thing.

— he’s not materialistic in any sense, quite the opposite. he’d invest and save in high quality things, get you the exact ring you’d want or do research in your hobbies to make sure you’d like what he’d purchase.

— i also like to think he sort of puts up a front when with others, but not with you. ideally, he’d want someone he can be vulnerable with from time to time and not feel as if he has to walk on eggshells constantly.

— he’d like pinching/poking at your tummy. he seems like a tummy guy. like he’d grab at it and squish it. i think he’d find thighs cute too.

— i think he’s definitely a cute-over-sexy kind of guy!! i stand by this!! no one can convince me otherwise.

— he likes playful banter! playful teasing! someone quick-witted. it eases up any potential tension.

— he would also just hold your hands and rub your fingers softly, kissing your knuckles. again, he’s very soft with his love. he’d be upset to hurt you in any way, especially physically. he knows he can be a bit too much when it comes to affection. and he never wants to make you uncomfortable!!

— back to his whole ‘private intimacy’ thing. he feels closest to you when you’re ‘parallel playing’.. doing mundane things, your own hobbies, but being beside each other- he feels so lucky to be able to do that. it feels domestic.

— we’ve already seen it in-game, but he does not like to argue whatsoever. sometimes it does him good, apologizes quickly, but in more serious moments it could definitely come off as him brushing off your feelings.

— he doesn’t intend to, he just wants to avoid arguing at all costs.

— more of a “let’s just talk things through” kind of guy. haha. as his partner you’ll have to understand how to talk to him, i assume.

— he is a good man. a great man even… husband material..

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 5) - toji f. x reader

masterlist

part four | part six

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 2.9k

Present

“Please make your decision quickly. I think the fuckin’ cops are looking for me.” He says. His voice sounds deeper than you remembered. You thought you had imagined it in the diner, or that his change in tone was a consequence of his anger toward his brother, but there was no denying it here. You glaze over that comment about law enforcement apparently searching for him.

He was leaning slightly out the window of his truck, etching toward you so that you could hear him over the sound of the surrounding traffic. You feel Megumi tug on your jacket, so you look down at where he’s tucked in. 

You always knew he looked just like his father, your mind tormented you with that fact every waking moment, but it was hitting you now. Here you had the framework to sit and compare their faces from more than memory alone. 

Needless to say, all of the pictures you had of Toji had been destroyed after you found out he left town. All of the clothes he had given you or left in your room had been donated when you moved out of your mother’s house. You had no physical reminders of his existence aside from the child the two of you shared and the golden angel necklace that sat tucked away at the back of your dresser. It was sitting against the back of the drawer, tucked away in a pair of polka dot socks that you never wore. You couldn’t bring yourself to let go of that one.

“Momma, that man is swearing.” Megumi says in his sweet voice. You grimace. Is this how you wanted your son to meet his father? In response, you rub his back and try to muster a smile. “I know, baby.” You whisper to him. “We can talk about swearing later.” Megumi had taken “Don’t say ‘fuck’, you’re only four” to mean, “anyone that swears, including adults, should be chastised.” You would have to redo that lecture. 

You really, really shouldn’t get in the truck. You should carry on with your life and pretend that all of this never happened. That Toji isn’t in the flesh in front of you, looking more handsome than you had ever remembered. Looking just like his fucking son. So much like his son that it felt like you were being taunted. He could never deny Megumi again once he saw his face. Even people who weren’t close to you could see the resemblance. 

It’s cold, you justify to yourself as you adjust Megumi in your arms and stand up from the bench. We’ll get home quicker, you think as you round the front of his truck towards the passenger side. You’ve run out of excuses by the time you’re opening the door and sliding in his truck. 

There are countless reasons why you shouldn’t have even looked up while you heard him call you. For starters, the fact that he just said law enforcement is allegedly in pursuit. He’s been back in your life for less than an hour and you’re already doing stupid shit.

What the fuck. You keep Megumi tucked into your chest tight as you sit down in the truck. Megumi is facing his father, trying to get a read on the man his mother had broken the rules for. 

“Okay baby,” You had said to Megumi merely weeks prior, “If a stranger asks you to get in the car with them, what do we say?” You ask him, holding his little hand in yours. 

“My momma said no!” He says. The two of you were sitting on your living room floor, with a blanket under you and watching The Little Mermaid on DVD. You had to save costs wherever you could, and those costs did not include cable. After watching Ariel go into Prince Eric’s palace-house within the first couple of hours being a human, you felt it appropriate to give Megumi the kidnapping talk. He takes a bite of the apple you had cut for him earlier. 

“And what if the stranger said, ‘I’ll give you Pokemon cards if you get in the car’?” You ask him. “I don’t even like Pokemon anymore!” He says proudly, in response to the hypothetical stranger. “What? Since when?” You asked, slightly horrified that you weren’t as attuned to your 4-year old’s interests as you thought. “Since the stranger asked me, momma.” He replied simply. 

This exchange must be very odd for Megumi. You had done your best to raise him right. The best that you could with the resources you had. You tried to teach him hard rules. Don’t talk to strangers, wash your hands before you eat, for the love of god please do not stick forks in the outlets. Now the ‘no strangers’ one was out of the window. It would be tough to explain this. Another lecture to redo.

Toji’s got his eyes on the rearview mirror, looking back at the diner. “Jinichi called the cops on me, the fucking asshole,” He mummers that last part to himself. “So where am I taking you?” Blunt and to the point like always. You give him your address before you could even think about it. Megumi’s tugging on you again to indicate he heard that comment, but you’re slightly out of it. 

There’s a big tear that exposes the cushion of the seat you’re on. You had left that there a lifetime ago when you drunkenly stole Toji’s knife and acted out a confrontation between you and a random girl that was hitting on him. That was one of the many nights that ended in laughter instead of tears.

 It smells exactly the same, he still uses the black ice scent for the little tree hanging from his rearview mirror. He’s still got his CD collection strapped to the sun visor on the driver’s side of the truck. It’s grown since the last time you saw it, expanding to the passenger side sun visor as well. There’s still a mysterious dark stain that you don’t feel comfortable speculating on the nature of in the floorboard. Evidently, he never managed to get it out. 

It’s too much. You have to fight to hold back tears. You had told yourself to never give an ounce to this man again. No tears, no anger, nothing. You had broken that in the diner earlier. It would not happen again.

You should have told him to take you to your mom’s house, so he wouldn’t have any kind of access to you or Megumi. Why would you give him your own address? How fucking stupid. 

It’s silent in the truck. You weren’t going to say anything, you might burst into tears if you opened your mouth. You had sat Megumi on your right side, away from Toji. He was pressed in between you in the door so that you wouldn’t have to be any closer to the man than necessary.

 You still don’t know if Toji had gotten a look at him yet. You take a moment to study the man. He’s got both hands on the steering wheel, sitting pin-straight in his seat. His eyes are very pointedly on the road, as if he’s trying not to look over. If the whites on his knuckles were indicative, and after spending years with him, you knew they were, Toji had already figured it out. 

After that call four years ago, you had a lot of time to ponder Toji’s reaction to you telling him about Megumi. Logically, you knew he was doing what he always did. Avoiding it because he didn’t wanna deal with the prospect of it. The same way he cheated on you to try and get you to run like you should have. The same way he used to pick a fight just to see if that would be your final straw. He denied Megumi because he had some weird psychological avoidance issue. 

Emotionally, you couldn’t see it as anything other than him being selfish while you gave your life to your child. Literally, that’s what it was. 

You were too busy looking at him to notice you had pulled into your apartment complex. 

“Um..” He clears his throat. “Which building do I drop you off at?” Drop you off. You scoff out loud. Of course. He finds out the kid really is his, and he’s avoiding us again. 

“The second one.” You say. You don’t know what you expected. For him to immediately pull Gumi into a hug and move in with you within the hour? Yeah fucking right. 

“Mama, can I play with the Christmas tree when we get home?” Megumi had asked you as your apartment came into view. ‘Christmas tree’ was one of his favorite games to play, where he got all the pots and pans from the cabinets and stacked them on top of each other to make a “Christmas tree.” It was a very messy game that required you to rewash all of your dishes when you were done, so it was a rule that he had to ask for permission before playing. The game had started when last year, tips were slow and you were late on your electric bill. You had already asked your mom for help that month, and refused to do it again. This, of course, meant that there was no money for a christmas tree. After Megumi’s December birthday and the one christmas present you could afford, you had to find some way to explain to Megumi why he couldn’t have a tree like the one at grandma’s house. “We have a better one.” You had told him, “One that you can play with all year long.” 

Needless to say you had cried yourself to sleep that night. 

“We’ll see, Megumi.” You say. The truck comes to a stop in front of your building, and without a word you’re grabbing Megumi out of the truck and slamming the door shut. Not a word said to Toji, not even a glance directed his way. 

It had started sprinkling rain on your drive over. This morning, your mom had called you to let you know there was a flood warning for the next city over. You usually didn’t take those entirely too seriously, waving her off when she had asked you to bring Megumi and spend the night at her house. 

The apartment is two stories tall with stairs on the outside, so you hold Megumi’s hand in yours as you slowly traverse up the stairs. He was skilled enough to walk up them on his own, but after an incident where he took a small fall down them, you were slightly paranoid. 

By the time you’re unlocking your apartment door, you notice that you hadn’t yet heard Toji’s truck pull away, so you glance back to see him still sitting there, waiting for you to get inside. For a moment, the two of you lock eyes. You can feel your heart drop as you usher Gumi in the house and close the door behind you. Don’t give him an ounce. 

You hope and pray that that is the last time you will ever have to think about Toji Fushiguro. The last time until Megumi gets old enough to realize his last name is different from yours. The last time until he asks you why all his friends in school have two parents and he only has one. The last time until he gets old enough to ask why you and his dad never made it work. Until you have to hold him as he cries and wonders why Toji never wanted him.

You let Megumi play Christmas Tree so you can lock yourself in the bathroom for a moment to compose yourself. 

By the time you get Megumi bathed, fed, and ready for bed, it’s eight at night, and the rain outside has been pouring heavily for a couple hours. Gojo had texted you to let you know that the tips had been good that day, but you had a feeling he was lying so he could slip a bit of his parent’s money into what he “owed you.” The diner was never busy on the Monday lunch shift. 

You had made spaghetti that night, a common occurrence in your home and something you were grateful Megumi hadn’t gotten tired of yet. Occasionally, you would get the kitchen guys to sneak you a meal in a togo box to offset grocery costs and eat something different every once in a while. Nanami was one of the cooler managers, which was why you were more comfortable asking that Megumi sit in the diner while you worked that day, but he was not one to let free food slide. 

The night was surprisingly peaceful once Megumi was distracted by his toys and tonight’s DVD movie, Toy Story, which Shoko had gotten him for his birthday. You were distracted by cleaning every single pot and pan you had after Megumi was done playing with them.

Once the two of you sat down for dinner, the inevitable questions came, and Megumi had asked you about the encounter with Toji earlier that night. 

“Mommy, why did those two guys at your job,” he took a breath in between his sentences and spaghetti, “start hitting each other, and then why did you got in one of their cars?”

That was a long conversation about how some brothers (you had let that slip), don’t get along, and how you had already known Toji, though you didn’t say from where or why. Thankfully, Megumi was more curious about why brothers and sisters fight than why his mother got into this random man’s truck. You would definitely have to revisit the “stranger danger” talk. 

It’s about 11 at night when you hear a booming knock at your door. It had pulled you out of your “almost-asleep” daze on the couch. You had already put Megumi to bed by then, and were taking a couple hours to yourself before you went to bed too. You prayed the sound hadn’t woken him. 

Whoever it is knocks again, this time harder and faster. Now that you have more mental capacity to process that, someone uninvited is knocking at your door at an inappropriate time of night for a single mother, you dash across your living room to grab the baseball bat you keep by the door. You’ve never had to defend yourself and your son in this capacity, and suddenly the adrenaline kicks in, and you squeeze the wooden slugger to center yourself.

The only light in the room is coming from the TV, playing the play menu of Clueless on repeat. You must have been asleep longer than you thought. Hoping not to be seen through your shadow by the window, you slowly crane your neck up toward the peep-hole of your apartment door. What you see is the last thing you expected.

Of course it’s Toji. Of course he wouldn’t just leave you alone. You’re such a fucking idiot. 

For a second you contemplate on whether or not you should open the door, but when he bangs again, somehow even louder, you fear that he won’t only wake up Megumi, but the entire apartment complex.

You put the bat back down and unlock the door, pulling it open slowly so that he would only be able to see half of your body from the angle he’s positioned at. He has his hand leaning on the doorframe, and his figure is hunched over to the point he has to lift his head to look you in the eyes. When he does, you realize what this is. He’s drunk.

His eyes are bloodshot red and watery. He’s soaked from head to toe, he had clearly walked through the rain from wherever he was coming from, or stood out in it for so long that he was drenched. He had a bottle of vodka in his hand that wasn’t against the doorframe, hanging precariously from his grasp like he would drop it at any moment. You couldn’t see how much was in it from here, but you knew he had to have drank quite a bit for him to be in this state. 

It’s only when he looks you up and down that you realize you’re only in an old t-shirt and underwear. If this were anyone else, you would’ve squirmed under their gaze, maybe ran to go throw something on, but with Toji, as dumb as it sounded, you couldn’t care less. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask him.

He says nothing, just looks you up and down again and takes a shot from the bottle. 

“Did you drive here?” He nods. Well that’s not fucking good. 

You wait for him to say something, to explain why he felt entitled to knocking on your door in the middle of the night soaking wet with nothing to say. Or maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he left you in the first place without saying a word. Maybe you’re waiting for him to explain why he never even felt the need to come check if Megumi was his. You’re waiting for a lot of explanations. But you don’t get a single one.

In a voice that can only best be described as broken, he softly slurs out, “You… you named him Megumi?”

very... very sorry for the wait. that semester ended up kicking my ass. no excuses i am very sorry D;

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[ivesambrose]

𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𐙚

Its been a rather cold month so I decided to channel something warm to look forward to 🤍

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Picture 1

You may have been dealing with challenging situations or people who are quick to throw jabs at you or throw a wrench in your plans. This may have led you to question your own intuition and potential making you scared and hesitant to take a step forward or take any risks in the fear of failure. You'll realize that their scattered mindset and opinions aren't supposed to be your core beliefs. You're not supposed to take advice from people whose life you don't see yourself living. Rather, you should focus on what makes you bloom from within.

You can look forward to a shift in belief system that will in turn change your entire life and reality for the better.

You can also look forward to something that excites you in the form of a rewarding opportunity (especially in terms of career for most of you) that you have been wishing for or were being patient for the longest time.

You can look forward to something valuable that will grow with time and won't be a fleeting thing. You'll be able to trust your intuition and judgement again. You'll be receiving nurturing and quality connections in your life as well. People who care and support you and your dreams.

All of this comes at the small cost of slowly letting go of your self sabotaging tendencies.

Timing: Coming 21 days

Picture 2

You've recently fathomed the power of your thoughts and words and how time and circumstances are irrelevant when it comes to them materalizing. This has been happening a lot but in the past you have questioned them but now you've grown more adamant, strict and assertive. You've learnt to stand your ground. You want to fully step into your power more than anything and allow no one not even yourself to stand in your way.

You can certainly look forward to a completion and celebration. Your labour has been steady and your harvest will be abundant. Enjoy your prosperity. You'll also be embarking on a new journey in your life, ideas and outlook will expand, no one will be able to confine you.

There's a lot of passion coming your way, it will allow you to overcome any fear you may face.

That long awaited renewed hope, clarity and peace is finally yours. You can actually see your path ahead, the destination that you'll reach, so you'll choose to embrace and enjoy your journey.

You can also look forward to a physical glow up, being appreciated, being proud of yourself and your achievements. Shedding guilt. As well as connecting with people or existing friends who feel like your tribe, with whom you don't have to mask your true self to be loved and accepted.

Timings : coming 14 days, stay loyal to your end goals. (September for some of you too)

Picture 3

You can see the dots connecting in your life, maybe you don't know how exactly, you may not have the outline laid out in front of you but when you aren't overthinking it, you realize how one thing leads to another and gain momentum. Things aren't exactly as a standstill as you think. You're extremely disciplined and focused, so whatever you have set sights on is bound to happen or be yours.

You may not realize how powerful your esoteric gifts are but you will. You can look forward to your visions, dreams, written words actually coming true as though it were a prophecy. Be mindful of the people you share your wisdom and insights with. I do see you aren't as happy with your current social circle or people you interact with. You trust very few and you sometimes feel very isolated. But you excellent foresight and there's always a silver lining in your circumstances.

Life will begin to change as the days get warmer and longer.

There's so much beauty in you, you don't even realize that you're a muse to many or are about to be. You might go into hiding only to rise from the ashes as something wild and free. The transformation that you seek is ongoing and something you know is inevitable. Celebrate it when time comes or start from today itself.

Timings: Coming 12 days, summer season (July and August is standing out for some of you as well)

[thatdiabolicalfeminist]

❄ happy december!! ❄

hi, i'm physically (+ developmentally) disabled and living well under the poverty line!!

my income is less than $1k/mo and accommodating my disabilities gets expensive :(

i do not have any media subscriptions, i don't get restaurant food delivered & i eat fast food like 1-2x a year, i don't go to any events that cost money, my computer is almost 6 years old and was refurbished. i'm not living it up, is my point.

i've been working out my budget for december 2023 and things are pretty tight!

with what i have now, there will be things i need that i will have to put off getting, and i will likely have to reduce my fruit & veg intake.

would any financially secure adults be willing to make a disabled person's life easier?

for instance, would you be willing to help me with anything off my food and necessities wishIist?

a walmart card to help w groceries would also make a huge difference. they can be sent anonymously (or not) and start at $5.

my email address if anyone wants to send a walmart card or anything else (an ikea $ card would be a dream) is thatdiabolicalfeminist at gmail dot com.

if getting a poor person fun things for the holidays would make you feel good, you could also take a peek at my ''dreams'' wishlist that has less urgent items I'd love to have.

i am sorry to beg but i have very limited options for getting my needs met! thank you so much for tolerating this on your dash. I hope you have a wonderful december!! ❄⛄❄

[feastingonyoureyes]

Synopsis; How THEY treat you as their (—) lover

Pairing: EYEFESTATION x (Scientist/Mutant) Reader

CW; OOC on Eyefestations' lore, Spoilers, both Eyefestation and reader are GN, rush×not proofread.

How THEY would treat you as their lover, if you were one of the scientists:

Well for starters you and them must've gotten along way before they were experimented on. Possibly even knowing them before it had all even started, or were just one of the few who're nice to them when they were still considered a "human."

Typically, if you were the only one nice to them, they'd be very clingy to be by your side at all cost; becoming restless when you weren't in the sams team of scientists that came to examine them. Throwing a fit and becoming enraged.

If you were on the same team though, then they'd be a lot more docile. Your team urging you to be the one carrying out the more physical examinations that require you to be up and personal in Z-317 space since, well, it's clear there's some sort of attachment it has to you.

In regards to being attached though, you'd most definitely be under careful watch by Urbanshade; to make sure you weren't planning on also getting attached to Z-317 and consider breaking them out. That, would be far too risky for the company to let slip.

So while you and Z-317 might've bonded, it wouldn't — or moreso, couldn't, become a romantic relationship. Unless you want Urbanshade to ... "take you out," whether it's literal or not.

Or you might just end up being experimented on as well.

How THEY would treat you as their lover, if you were one of the mutants/experiments:

(continuation from ^) Let's say you do end up risking it all for love. Causing Urbanshade too many problems to handle, so they had you personally dealt with; separating both you and Z-317 during this period.

While you were absent from Z-317, your lack of presence might've caused them to lash out even more. Thrashing against their glass tank and causing more deaths that weren't ideal whatsoever to Urbanshade. Probably soon was going to be dealt with as well but... Then the lockdown occured.

Sebation setting Eyefestation free from their confinement and while they were given the opportunity to escape from this place, they chose to stay. 1. to take revenge on the humans for what they've done, and 2. was to well... look for you.

No matter how different you look now from how you did back then, Z-317 would definitely recognize you. After all, your presence was the most comforting feeling they've felt in a long while — so they should be able to connect dots son enough.

Again, they'd be a lot more docile when you're with them. (Either walking in the hallway while they swam, or you both swimming together.)

But end up also being hostile as well, far more when you're with them. like y'know how when painter traps you into a room and Eyefestation is immediately red? Well it's something like that, but forthe scenario in mind where Z-317 is being protective; they'd be blue. Trailing and edging close to the window in the next few rooms afterwards, chasing the poor expendable.

[diableriedoll]

Because how many ask games are too many? Trick question, there's never enough! We all know we adore talking about our Kindred and hearing about others.

Send as many Clans/ Cults of your choice to the reblogger, plus their OC name, let them answer the relevant questions about their Kindred. The questions are based around the Clan/ Cult rather than you have to send the cult or clan the OC is in. ♥️🩸

Add your OC's names in the tags and share!

Don't forget to send asks to the person you reblogged this from!

Clan Inspired

Banu Haqim - What's the worst punishment your OC has received? Have they given any punishments out? How was it handled?

Brujah - What is something your OC will always fight for? What's the reason?

Gangrel - What is your OC's Beast like? Do they get along.. more or less?

Hecata - Does your OC have a family? Be it through blood or chosen. Tell us about them.

Lasombra - What's the most ruthless thing your OC has done? Why?

Malkavian - Think of your OC as a mortal, pre-embrace. If someone showed them what's going to happen to them, from the night they were turned to now, would they let the embrace happen or would they try to avoid it?

Ministry - What's the best/ worst lie your OC have ever told? What was the reason? Was it believed?

Nosferatu - Your OC is now cursed. Again. Their favourite physical thing about them has been changed to their worst nightmare. What is it?

Ravnos - Is your OC a daredevil or are they more cautious? What's the most chaotic thing that they've done?

Salubri - Ignore how many dots in Humanity there are. In your opinion, what's your OC's humanity like?

Toreador - Describe your OCs aesthetic in the worst way possible, then tell us what it actually is.

Tremere - What is something your OC wanted and got it for themselves, no matter how selfish or high the cost was?

Tzimisce - What's your OC's most prized possession? How long have they had it? Why is it important?

Ventrue - Does your OC have any influence or sway anywhere? Are they respected?

Caitiff - Would you say your OC is quite individualistic or do they conform to their Clan stereotype?

Thin-blood - Has your OC ever been shunned or cast-out? Are they currently an outcast? Or have they ever shunned someone else? Why?

Cult Inspired

Ashfinders - Does your OC use social media? If so, which platforms and what's their following like?

Bahari - How well does your OC cope with physical and/ or mental pain?

Church of Caine - Does your OC have any religious/ Kindred beliefs?

Church of Set - Is your OC able to be their true selves? If not, why? Is there anyone they can be real in front of?

Cult of Shalim - What's the worst thing your OC has suffered so far?

Cult of Mithras - Has your OC been in a blood bond? Are they currently in one? Do they have anyone bonded to them?

Nephilim - What pleasures does your OC get out of their (un)life?

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 8

Ao3 | 3.5k Words | Darlin's POV

Quinn does show-and-tell. Angel sleeps fitfully. Darlin' (nearly) commits homicide. Sam pulls them away from the ledge. David sets foot on the scene.

TW: Threats, home invasion, injury, blood, sexual trauma, implied physical abuse, threats of rape, non-consensual filming of sexual acts, general Quinn bullshit.

Quinn Fox looked exactly the same as he had when you’d last seen him four months ago, sans being beaten within an inch of his life. His skin was still so pale it was nearly translucent, dotted in a handful of places by beauty marks. He still wasn’t adorned by any of the shitty tattoos that you were, that he had put there, that he claimed to love so much. What few he had peaked out from the sleeves of his pristine leather jacket, perfect and new and costing a fucking fortune. His blue eyes were still so pale that he had to squint in Max’s warm light. His teeth were still sharp and too many and nicotine stained. He’d go in for a bleach session next time he was in L.A.. 

“My precious thing,” he rose from his seat and tossed the paper napkin he’d spread in his lap to the ground, waving away the server casually. You watched her face drop as she turned away and retreated towards the counter, where the guy behind it was staring outright now. You’d only have a few minutes before they had enough of Quinn and kicked you out. It was a familiar countdown in the back of your mind. Nearly everybody had enough of Quinn eventually. You’d gotten the timing down to a science. 

“Don’t call me that.” You hissed. He reached out to you, one nimble hand with perfectly painted, black nails and bulky rings. Your mind supplied the feeling of those rings crunching across your cheekbones. “And don’t fucking touch me. Sit down.” You huddled into the booth, arms locked around your middle. There was still blood on your jacket from the last time you’d seen Quinn. 

“So touchy, Precious.” Quinn said, floating back down into his side of the booth. Sam sat down quietly next to you. His eyes flicked across Quinn quickly, almost casually. You watched him categorize Quinn’s skinny jeans, bought with rips and wear already sewed in, his Nirvana shirt, a band you knew he’d never listened to. God, he was such a fucking poser. You couldn’t fathom what about him had ever been enticing to you. “I implied you should come alone, you know.” He sneered towards Sam. 

“Yeah, well, the last time I was alone with you, you put me in a fucking coma, so…” you shrugged. You felt Sam’s eyes slip to you. That was a little tidbit you’d neglected to share with him. He’d have questions later on. You swallowed down the urge to deny them before he even asked. Instead, you brought one hand down to rest against his thigh, your fingers twisting up his uniform pants hard enough they would wrinkle. 

“True,” Quinn laughed, not even bothering to be decent enough to hide his glee. His eyes moved to Sam. “I assure you, they gave as good as they got, Sammy. Or- do you prefer ‘Captain Collins?’”Quinn grinned, his mouth pulling just a little too far on either side. You thought you were going to fall out. Behind that grin, that delighted twist to his stupid face, there was a familiar anger. He’d had that look about him when he put cigarettes out on your skin. He’d had that look about him when he’d fucked you so hard and hateful you couldn’t move for two days. “I was expecting the other one, Precious. Big, scary Captain Shaw. He’s a much better frame to hide behind.” 

“They ain’t hiding.” Sam spat. “And you’d be so lucky to be staring down Shaw instead of me.” 

“Is that so, cowboy?” Quinn laughed. It was a rasping, shrieking sound, like a predator barking out before it struck. Your hand tightened on Sam’s thigh. 

“It is.” Sam said. “David Shaw is a good man. He wouldn’t hurt ‘ya without cause. But I am not a good man.” 

“Whatever happened to ‘do no harm,’ Doctor?” Quinn cocked his head to one side. 

“I’m not a doctor anymore.” 

“Quinn,” you snapped, demanding his attention. Those bright eyes stuck on Sam for a moment longer. You slammed your phone down on the table. The photo of Little Shaw shone up at the three of you, accusatory. Sam gasped audibly when he saw it, going stiff. Quinn flicked his eyes down at it and laughed again. ��What the fuck do you want?”

“That was almost too easy, you know?” He rested his chin atop his folded hands as he stared down at the picture. “I just had to pick a day when the good Captain was working the night shift. It’s so convenient that he takes you with him everywhere. I almost wish I had sent you this instead.” 

He produced his own phone and laid it on the table next to yours. It was newer, nicer, and the screen was giant. The big screen exposed a shaky video of the Shaw’s master bedroom from an angle you hadn’t seen yet. If you had to guess, it was through a crack in the closet door. Your stomach flipped as you leaned in close. Sam mirrored your posture. The camera panned from the plush, carpeted floor and towards the softly lit bed, on top of which Little Shaw was spread out, their phone in one hand and the other free. They were wearing one of David’s D.F.D. tee-shirts, which swallowed their frame like a robe. You watched as their hand trailed from the hem of the shirt and lifted, exposing their thighs, their waist, their fluttering stomach and chest. Sam cut his eyes away immediately, but you didn’t move until the audio kicked in. Little Shaw let out a moan, Quinn’s phone cranked up to top volume. Heads swiveled towards your booth. You slammed your hand down on the phone, fumbling for the volume button as you snatched it and tucked it close to your chest. 

“You fucking freak.” You hissed. You couldn’t even manage to be surprised, just vaguely nauseous. He was in the fucking closet. How long had he been in there?

“They rest so fitfully when the good Captain isn’t home.” Quinn mused, inspecting his nails. “I had to hush them back to sleep a handful of times to make sure I wasn’t caught. Nothing a quick cuddle couldn’t fix, of course.” 

He had touched them. You were going to commit homicide. 

“Quinn,” you growled through clenched teeth, “step outside.” 

“Darlin-” Sam started, grabbing your wrist in an attempt to ground you. You didn’t care if he wrapped his arms around your waist, if he pressed kisses to your temples, if he fucking took you right here in this booth in Max’s; no firm touch or soft word could pull you back down now. Quinn had touched them. He had filmed them in a vulnerable moment and then held them while they slept. All while David was fussing over you at the 10-19. You had distracted him. You had drawn his attention away from the people who really mattered and then delivered danger to his literal fucking bedroom. 

“Fuck you, move!” You shoved Sam hard, hard enough for him to stumble out of the booth and into the guy from behind the counter just as he came to interrupt the fight that was brewing in his dining room. 

“Captain Collins,” the guy said, catching Sam as he got his footing. You forgot how well known the 10-19 was on this side of town. You’d be surprised if Sam wasn’t a familiar figure to every person who worked here, and you’d dragged him into this. “Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, Guy,” Sam said, and go fucking figure, a literal pizza Guy. “We’re just leaving.” Guy’s gaze flicked from Sam to you to Quinn and back again. Sam must have given him a reassuring enough look, because he stepped aside. You surged up, knees shaky, and snagged Quinn by the collar of his designer leather jacket. He grunted but didn’t fight back as you pulled him out of the booth and towards the door. You pulled stares from the families adorning the booths and counter, and you probably looked like a rabid animal. You could picture your own expression, twisted and gnarled by the scars that cut through your face. You saw a kid flinch back and away from you as you passed his seat. 

The air was cold and sharp as you burst out of Max’s and started dragging Quinn towards the back parking lot. He let you, let you pull him along, let you toss him when you reached what you considered an acceptable distance from the building to kick his ass. You knew that, if he wanted to, Quinn could make it difficult for you, at the very least. He was strong, just as strong as you and twice as fast, twice as clever. You were a blunt object. You didn’t have it in you to strategize, to think through a fight as it happened. You could call Quinn a lot of horrible things, but one thing he was not was stupid. Not like you were. 

Your fist connected with his face before he could even get his footing. Pain burst out over your barely-healed knuckles with satisfaction. You grit your teeth and tried to step back, put some distance between you two. Your back met with the trunk of a silver sedan. Quinn held himself up, one hand on the grimy wall of Max’s industrial dumpster. Blood and bruise blossomed so prettily across his sharp cheekbone. He closed in as soon as he got his footing, boxing you in between him and the car. Your only way out was through. 

You’d been fighting the same way your entire life. You’d always been weaker than someone, you’d always been hungry and disadvantaged and outnumbered. So you took to the ground like a prey animal. You dove in, hit them where it hurt, and ran, put distance between you, let the hoard thin as they chased you so you could pick them off one by one. Quinn had always delighted in watching you dance around the battlefield, often of his own making. He liked to watch you scrap, fight dirty, pull hair and bite and scratch for eyes. 

He was so much taller than you and his reach seemed endless. When the two of you fought, he didn’t let you run. He made you stand in one spot and wail, hoping that your brute force was enough. 

That, more than anything he did to you, had always made you feel distinctly vulnerable. 

He came at you quickly, decisively, struck you hard in your ribs. His shitty ex must have told him where she’d done the same, because his aim was eerie. You gasped, the air knocked out of you, and locked an arm around his shoulders to keep him close. You drove your fist up, into his gut, punching for his diaphragm as your chest seized and fought to allow you any air. 

Quinn twisted out of your hold and swung his leg up, landing a kick to your stomach and sprawling you back against the sedan. You growled, near feral, and dove forward again. Quinn wanted you close, pinned down, vulnerable? You would show him just how dangerous you could be in close quarters. 

It was blurry after that. A series of hits, skin on skin, tearing fabric, blood and grunts. This was a familiar dance. The two of you had fucked, often, in fact, but for you this was a much more familiar type of intimacy. It was how your father, on the rare occasions he had been present in your childhood, had shown you his love. It was how your mother, for all of her virtues, had raised you. Since you were young, you’d been shown love most often by a firm right hand. Quinn was the latest in a long line of people who loved you with a fist. You filled up with the heady euphoria of it, got drunk on his little sounds, his curses and moans of pain, his high laughter like a predator’s ringing around in your swimming head. 

This is what you had seen in him. His eyes flashed, bluer than blue, catching yours a few times in the scuffle. You crushed your knuckles into his nose and knocked it askew. He called out your name, your real name. Fuck, it sounded like a plea, like a promise. 

He hit the ground before you did. You’d always had staying power, whether it had anything to do with your actual constitution or if it was tied up in your stupid, persistent stubbornness. Quinn was a child of abundance. You knew from the shape of him, no matter what games he liked to play, that he had never wanted for anything. That was the only advantage you had over guys like Quinn, guys like David. You had had to last before. Plenty of people had tried to starve you out, so when most people were bent with hunger pains, you did what you did best; soldiered on. 

“What do you want, Quinn?” You panted, hands on your knees. He spat out blood and smiled up at you with swollen cheeks. 

“I already told you, Precious.” Back to that stupid nickname. You wanted to kick him again, but he was already pushing himself up, getting his feet under him. “I want you.” 

“You are fucked in the head if you think I’d ever go back to you.” You growled. Your ribs ached. You wrapped a hand around your chest and held on. 

“No,” Quinn smiled at you as he stood. He had the nerve to look bashful. “I suppose not. That’s fine. All I want is… one last taste.” 

“What?” You breathed. 

“I want to fuck you.” He rolled his eyes, swiping a finger under his nose and coming back bloody. “One last time.” 

“Fuck off.” You scoffed. Your stomach was doing flips again. The idea of putting yourself in that position, vulnerable and bare under him, submitting yourself to Quinn’s particular brand of love, made you physically sick. 

Part of you was afraid you wouldn’t survive his one last time. Another part of you, somehow bigger, was afraid you would. 

You turned to leave, resolute, and caught sight of Sam. He was standing two yards off, watching silently on the edge of the parking lot. He seemed more concerned than anything, but there wasn’t an ounce of judgment in his severe features. You looked away. Holding his brown-eyed-gaze was unbearable. 

“I’ll get what I want somewhere, Precious.” Quinn called after you. “From someone. Remember, I’ve been inside their bedroom.” 

An image of Little Shaw flashed across your mind. Pressed against the floor, folded in half with Quinn between their legs, his teeth in their skin, burns littering their flawless skin, cuts waiting to scar from that ill-kept pocket knife he carried. Something in your chest snapped. Maybe it was a bone. Maybe it was your resolve. 

You crashed into Quinn, moving faster than you thought you could. His head banged back against the dumpster, his lips twisted into a fuck-you smile that you wanted to rip off of his face. You knew where he kept it in his stupid fucking jacket. His knife was in your hand before you could even think. The blade was opened, dried blood giving it a rusty look, and pressed into the juncture of his throat. You knew the bite of that blade. You’d had it pressed in that same spot a dozen times before. A line of blood ran down his throat, catching on his bobbing Adam's apple. He looked so fucking pretty in this light, the puff of his breath in the winter air smothering his features, blood smeared across his thin lips. 

You loved him. You had loved him, at least. Your body wouldn’t let you forget it. 

“If you ever fucking touch them, I’ll kill you!” You cried, a plea, a promise. “I’ll tear you to pieces, do you fucking get that? I’ll fucking kill you!” 

“Darlin’!” An arm locked around your middle and pulled you back. The knife clattered to the asphalt, wet with Quinn’s blood. His laughter crowded out any thought that might make itself known in your head. You thought you’d drown in the sound of it. 

Warmth at your back. The distance between you and Quinn grew. A soft voice taking up the space left behind as Quinn’s retreated. You were across the parking lot, across the road, in the passenger seat of Sam’s truck before you could think enough to start fighting. Sam didn’t stop talking. 

“I know, I know, Darlin’, I’ve gotcha. Gimme- yeah, there, come here-“ he grabbed your hand, squeezed it in time with his exaggerated breaths. You realized, suddenly, as Sam plopped into the driver’s seat and trapped you in the silent confines of his truck’s cabin, that you were crying. Wailing, actually. You hadn’t cried in years. Not since Gabe had died, and even that wasn’t anything like this. You bent at the middle, your seatbelt pulling at the bruises on your chest, and screamed. Sam’s hand snapped to the back of your neck. You thought he was likely trying to stabilize your spine. Paramedic training must have kicked in. His fingers tangled with your hair as he shushed you, cooed soft reassurances into the space between your cries. 

Eventually, your voice gave out. Eventually, your muscles unclenched, and you hung, chest to thighs, hugging yourself so hard you couldn’t breathe. Sam’s hand didn’t leave your hair until the car stopped, and only then to reach more of you. His cold, rough hands trailed up under your jacket, sought out skin, tugged you up until he could look you over. 

Your eyes met his, dark and wide and sure. 

He wasn’t scared. You didn’t know how he had managed that. You didn’t know how he managed to look at you the exact same way after that. 

“I’m sorry-“ you started, your mouth sharp with blood. 

“Don’t,” Sam snapped, his face twisting. He looked… pissed off. That you understood. That you could wrap your mind around. He wanted to be angry with you? That was fine. Better that than scared of you. “You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. Come on, lemme get you inside. I need to take a look at you.” 

You looked up, took in your surroundings. The 10-19 stood, illuminated by street lights, across its long parking lot. You didn’t know how you’d missed that familiar drive. Your chest sparked with anxiety. David’s truck was still on the lot. He would see you. 

“I can’t.” You breathed. You shook your head, rebuking the very thought of David seeing you like this. And fuck, how could you explain why? He would kill you. He’d kick you out. He’d wash his hands of you. And as much as you were fighting his influence, his help, his care, you knew that you would come unraveled without it. If David was done with you, then that was it. Doors closed. No vacancy. 

“Darlin’-“ Sam started, reaching for you. Your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You startled, fumbling for it with your swollen, fucked up hands. Sam had delicately dabbed your knuckles with alcohol and gauze for days and you’d gone and wasted his work. 

David’s name lit up your screen. His shift was over and at this hour he was done worrying over the night shift. He was looking for you so he could go home to his invaded home and his endangered spouse. The prey animal in your chest jerked and you followed where it tugged you. You dropped your phone, stumbled out of Sam’s truck, tangling with the seatbelt. Your boots hit the asphalt and you ran. 

You didn’t realize, in your haste to run, hide, escape, that you’d started running towards the 10-19. You didn’t realize, as you stared down at your feet and tried to make yourself small, that you were running straight into David until you collided with his chest. 

You bounced back, let out a startled cry, and raised your fists. You didn’t know if it was to strike out or to protect your face, but it served the same purpose either way. David’s phone was still up to his ear, and his face was bare in shock as he looked you over. 

You stepped back like you were going to run. He was faster than you. His fingers threaded into your jacket and pulled you close. 

“What the fuck?” He barked, his face lined with anger and worry. 

Your body knew you were done. David’s hand held up your weight, and you went limp against your jacket. Whatever adrenaline had been holding you together slipped away and let you unravel. David hauled you to his chest by your jacket, cradled your head with one giant palm, wrapped his other arm around your still too-trim waist. 

“Sam!” He shouted, a definitive order. You were a walking house fire, and David took over as soon as he set foot on the scene. 

That was it, then. He’d seen you. He would know, or Sam would tell him. David would choose his spouse over you, which is what he should have done in the first fucking place. You’d be out on your ass in two hours flat. You’d run with less in worse shape in less time. But you couldn’t get your feet under you. You couldn’t get an inch of your body to obey your desperate orders. 

Doors closed. No vacancy.

[tokyo-1842]

LIVE FOREVER <3

Zoro x GN!Scientist!Reader

GN!READER, ZORO X GN!!READER, READER IS GENIUS 😥

TW: Uhh reader not sleeping for days (Possibly weeks), READER PURRS😭 (I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE CUTE), Pet rat, Zoro taking care of reader, fluffy fluuff that’s all folks, little suggestive in one sentence.

——————————————————————————

“Day…I’ve lost count…” You muttered to yourself as you wrote on the medium sized white board in your lab. The bags under your eyes becoming more visible day by day. The crew worries about you and both your mental and physical health. God…weeks it’s been since your last rest. But it’s not your fault! Science!

Yes science…all you need…you don’t even need sleep!

Ok well maybe a few screws in your head were a little lose during these past months. But it’s nothing to worry about! All the progress and research you’ve made was worth it!

*Squeak, Squeak*

Ah right that’s what this was all about.

So you see, you’ve loved animals your entire life! And one day you decided it’s not fair they don’t get to live as long as humans! The Sunny wasn’t going to be at another island for a long time too. So why not figure out a way too give longer life expectancy to animals.

And so you did but at what cost.

So this brings us here.

“(Name) Open up!” A gruff voice shouted on the other side of the door. “Yeah…give me a second..”

You opened the door to see a seemingly concerned Zoro. “What’s up? Need anything?” You look at him. Only if you could see how tired you looked. “The hell you mean “WhAtS uP”. What’s up is YOU for too long!” “I’m fine I swear…” You take a seat near a table where the mouse you were testing on was laying. (DONT WORRY THE MOUSE IS BEING TAKEN GPOD CARE OF :p)

“What could be so important that could have caused you to not sleep in WEEKS!?” Zoro grunted. “Oh man I’m glad you asked! I’d really like to drag out the years of my life and live past human expectancy. But I can’t.” You paused. “So I made a little buddy who could! This isss…hm (Mouse Name). I called him subject A I never gave a normal name, But anyways-“

Zoro watched as you babbled on about your experiment, he only payed attention to how you looked like you could fall over any moment now.

You pulled out a brush to groom the little critter, slowly stroking is fur.

“(Name)! Are you not seeing the problem here?” “What problem…? Hm are you talking about how I made (Mouse name) to look like me? oh yeah I forgot to mention! I did give him some of my DNA” “(Name)” “I extracted some of my blood and used the cells to form a similar genetic structure to mines” You slurred out while staring into space. “(NAME)! Can’t you see what this is doing to you! You’re clearly not even mentally stable” (That’s a drag) Zoro practically shouted. “Haha…what makes you say that…?”

…

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? YOUR BRUSHING AIR RIGHT NOW!” You look down to see a comical dotted outline on where (mouse name) should be. Your brain is so tired out you couldn’t even notice nothing was being brushed.

You let out a chuckle. “Funny I could’ve swore he was there…” You sweat dropped. “That’s it. Your putting that mouse to bed then your going to bed.” “But-“ “Do you understand?” The swordsman commanded.

…

“Ok…”

“Great.”

After wrapping up your lab equipment with the help of Zoro (because you would fall over) you changed out of your lab gear.

Roronoa let you borrow one of his T-Shirts. (Totally not just to watch the way the shirt hugs your curves)

“Alright finally let’s head to bed” He picked you up bridal style and you let out an adorable gasp he chuckles at.

…

Finally your curled up to him getting some well needed rest. You snuggled impossibly closer to his chest. Zoro massaged your scalp as he stared off into the moon lit ocean. Observing the way it glistened like a gem and listened to your soft snoring.

That was until he heard a…PURR?

Purring…you were..

The shock wore off as he found it adorable. There were many things about you he never knew but this one is new. It provoked him to keep on petting you as the cat like noises you made were like music to him.

——————————————————————————

BONUS:

- When ever the strawhats have a lil sleepover (idk) when you fall asleep Zoro likes to rub your back until you purr to show it to everyone. You always wonder why your throat is sore in the morning..

THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THAT ONE SCENE FROM ADVENTURE TIME LOL.

THATS ALL GUYS THANK YOU FOR READINF

SOME COOL GIFS:

HAVE A GOOD DAY :p

[kamehamehamlet]

Revival Project Update: The 2024 transformation! 👀👀

Thanks again to everyone who has shown support since we announced the project less than a month ago. I'm so excited to share more details about our goals for this year! I previously mentioned that I'm working to make the script available this year, what I didn't mention is that I'm revising the script, and you will be able to experience KamehameHamlet with a special staged reading of this transformed play with the original KHH cast and director on board!

The reading will be streamed online and recorded for later viewing, and following the reading we will make the revised and original scripts available.

There is one more very meaningful and super radical detail you can see here!

Be sure you don't miss the details by signing up for email updates at KamehameHamlet.com and read on to learn more about the script and staged reading!

More about the script

Why are you rewriting the script?

I'll share another post this weekend breaking down the reasoning behind the rewrite. I'll link to that post here when it's up!

How will the scripts be published?

At the very least, both scripts will be available in digital form for anyone to read. However, I will also be looking into options for printing physical copies.

Will we be able to perform the script?

This is a goal of mine, so I'm looking into options that can support myself and Play-Dot while also making the play accessible to artists of all budgets.

Any way this new version will let me be pedantic to strangers online?

Yes! The original KamehameHamlet had the subtitle 'Good Night Saiyan Prince' the revised version uses the subtitle 'Waiting for Goku.'

More about the staged reading

What is a staged reading?

Staged readings can be pretty varied, but in general, it's a stripped-down production without costumes, lights, blocking, etc. Actors are familiar with the script and may have gone through some rehearsal, but aren't expected to memorize lines.

Why a staged reading and not a full production?

I answered this question yesterday which you can read here. In summary, a staged reading will be a much easier goal to accomplish with fewer risks involved.

What should we expect from a staged reading of KHH?

A lot of these details are still up in the air. Whether we gather the actors on zoom, or bring everyone together with a professional recording equipment, the goal is to make sure it's available for people to view online. To that end I'm looking into costs for a few different levels of quality, and following that we will look into options around funding.

I want the staged reading to be incredible, how can I support it?

Right now, the best way to support the KamehameHamlet Revival Project is to:

Sign-up for email updates: This tells me you are willing to navigate off of Tumblr by a few clicks, to support or view KHH content.

Follow this blog: This helps to make sure you don't miss updates!

Share our posts: Amokslime's original post is nearing 20,000 notes. First of all, that's insane! However, the majority of people who have seen that post still don't know we are working to bring KHH back. You can help spread the word by reblogging our updates and if you see a mutual sharing the OG post, consider reblogging with our announcement!

[gigi-journaling]

🎀 Anti-Consumption in Journaling 🎀

-by a stationery lover/blogger, pt. 2

💛 Thank you @maldemer for inspiring this post! 💛

Love elaborate maximalist journal spreads but want to improve your consumption habits? I’m here to help!

Are you going for a journal with a lot of stickers and washi tape with minimal writing? Is your main goal creating collages with your stationary? Just want a pretty way to showcase your stickers?

Opt for a smaller journal! Reduce the visual space your working with to reach that maximalist/clutterbug 🐞 look with less materials.

I recommend refillable binder journals, it’s one reusable cover and you can save your old pages by tying them together with ribbon or save them as loose pages.

I recommend sizes A6, A7, M5/A8👇

Need to Fill a lot of space? Let’s Talk Materials

Keep your packaging! I have a box of cute images and patterns I’ve cut from miscellaneous packaging to glue in my journal. If you’ve bought stationery recently, chances are the packagings are also pretty enough to save!

Free souvenirs! Going somewhere fun? Save a receipt (a favorite of mine to remember snacks I ate, or the date/time), a ticket, a map, a brochure, things you can collect from your outing that come at no cost to you.

Collect from nature! Have a separate book thick enough to press pretty flowers from your yard, your daily walk, the park, your hike, etc. just be careful not to touch something poisonous. You should have an on going collection of pressed flowers you can choose from to fill the space.

Junk mail! Make collages from newspapers, envelopes, flyers. Cut the individual letters to use or full words to string together a poem. Or cut fun shapes to make art.

Doodles! Not an artist? That’s okay! Make your doodles with cheap color pencils, ball point pens, crayons for texture! Messy is cute and endearing!

Thrifting! So many books for cheap from cooking, nature, poetry, novels, children’s books. Get your scissors and start snipping! Look for trinkets like buttons, ribbons, fabric scraps, small beads that you can glue

Creating visual weight! Chances are you have different page styles lying around, mix patterns, textures, colors. Is your journal dotted? Glue sections of graph, blank, or line paper to create visual interest. Received a gift lately? Tissue paper looks cute!

When buying stationery, buy from small artists when you can! Many artists have online shops and/or physical markets. It may be pricier than buying from companies, but you can guarantee the art/design is not stolen, and that the artist is being paid fairly for their work.

I went ahead and created a journal spread using some of the advice above. This is pocket journal with everything being pulled from scrap paper, junk mail, and some markers. Ignoring that I completely forgot what cucumbers looked like for a hot minute:

Here’s my journal spread!

[noxturnalnymph]

The Devil's Wife

Devil!Joel x Witch!OFC (7.1k) DARKAU! Joel Miller where he is the literal Devil, and the OFC is a witch named LUNA with moderate physical description. 

Summary: OFC is a witch who is a member of an elite coven who take their relationship with their Dark Lord quite seriously. This upper echelon of witches practice the darkest of magic and initiation to their circle involves a wedding ceremony that has them pledging their lives and bodies in unholy union to Lucifer himself. What happens when one of his brides (ofc) calls upon her betrothed for help one Halloween night? Will the Devil rise to save her? And what will be the cost of his rescue?

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Satanic worship, witchcraft, SEX, satanic panic seduction, coercion, DubCon, monsters of the blood-drinking variety, talk of blood, violence, and death.

A/N: Entirely based on a dream I had last year but never got around to writing it. Is it Joel Miller, or is it just Pedro in a black suit? I don't know, who cares? Just enjoy it (or don't). Happy Halloween!!

The clouds part just as she steps out into the chilly October air, showcasing the sliver of the waning crescent moon hanging precariously in the sky. A breeze gusts down the alley, scraping leaves along the pavement and blowing her skirt tightly against her ankles. She pulls her maroon cloak over her head and forces herself against the wind, heading towards the warm glow of the sidewalk streetlamp.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home, Luna?” a tender voice calls from behind her.

She turns towards the voice, her friend and fellow witch Jadis following her out of their coven’s late-night gathering. The shorter witch’s honey-colored eyes probe as she tucks her lower lip between her teeth. Her rich, dark skin blends completely with the alley but begins to look like melted chocolate as the orange glow of the street crosses her rounded face. Jadis draws her cloak tight around her middle, mumbling about the cold and the hour of the meeting’s conclusion.

“You live in the opposite direction than I do,” Luna says, forcing a smile on her cheeks against the numbing chill of the wind, whipping violently now that they’re out in the open.

“I just worry about you walking all that way alone-”

“It’s Halloween, my friend,” she interrupts. “The streets are full of revelers.”

“But it’s 3am!” her friend counters.

“Then the streets will be full of drunks,” she says, clapping her hands together and silencing any further refutation from her worrisome cohort. “I shall be perfectly fine, just as I always am.”

They part ways with a hug and the lone witch cinches her hood tighter, marching down the street against the wind with her head held high. She makes it to the edge of the cemetery, humming a tune in harmony with the whistling wind, before she starts to have regrets about her late-night walk. It’s not the temperature of the biting air, the tedious walk through the village to her little part of the woods, or the spookiness of the creeping fog rolling through the wrought-iron gate that runs alongside the stiff gravestones. It’s partly the snickering she keeps hearing popping up behind her - potentially drunk frat boys about to play games with the wrong witch, but mostly the wet shoe she’s currently plodding on - having just stepped ankle-deep into a freezing puddle formed between the broken sidewalk stones.

“Girl,” she hears them whisper for the tenth time. 

She looks ahead of her just in time to see a large dark figure curl around the tall brick column that marks the entrance gate of the cemetery. Great, she thinks, they got brave enough to come out and play. She stealthily moves her hand to her inner pocket, grabbing hold of a small vial of a special brew she concocted for situations such as this. She sees his pale painted face contort into a nefarious grin, the dim lights dotting the street glinting off his elongated canines. Another Twilight fan, she groans, rolling her eyes in the shadow of her cloak.

“Little red riding hood,” the fiend croons, stepping out onto the sidewalk. 

She hears the scraping footsteps of at least two of his friends closing in behind her.

“Sorry Sparkles, I’ve got a date with the big bad wolf,” she mutters, attempting to step around him.

His cold hand reaches out faster than she expected, grabbing onto her arm. Cursing, she tries to pull her arm free from his grip but hears his nails ripping against the fabric of her cloak. What kind of claws did this guy put on tonight? She thinks he must be sobering up from whatever party he skulked out of, because his hold remains firm and he yanks her back to face him. She hears the scuffling come to a halt behind her, as his companions resume their snickering laughter.

“Don’t be rude,” he draws each word out purposefully.

A thought occurs to her that bruising her arm with his grip might actually be what is considered rude, but she doesn’t bother to voice it. Mortals can be so irksome when they’ve imbibed enough alcohol to embolden their twisted desires and put action to troubling behaviors. Pulling it out of her cloak, she lifts her unrestrained arm high, the small vial clutched tight in her hand, and drops it to the ground swiftly.

It breaks open with a soft tinkle, dark smoke rising from the cobbled stones, obscuring her surroundings and sending her would-be attackers into a coughing fit. She feels his hold loosen as she slips her arm away, stepping aside and darting into the cemetery gate beyond, leaving them behind to suffer her spell. She manages to stifle the laugh that bubbles up inside her and slinks along the pathway in the ancient resting place, ducking under old tree boughs and over wet blades of overgrown grass.

A short while later she finds herself nearing the back edge of the cemetery, the western woods looming just beyond. She would have preferred to take the worn pathways into the forest - her forest - to trek back to her cozy cottage home, but those bothersome boys have changed her plans. No matter, this way will be faster, she’ll just have to deal with cleaning the mud off her shoes and clothes when she gets home. She reaches to unlatch the creaking gate at the back fence, its lock long since broken, when freezing cold fingers lace over her bare arm.

“Not so fast, little witch,” he hisses.

She gasps a breath that doesn’t fill her lungs. How did he escape the effects of her potion? The tall, pale-faced man stands before her once again. She looks down at his hand, ghostly white against her skin, darkened veins showing even in the low light, and long dirty nails sharpened to a dangerous point. It doesn’t really look like a costume now that she’s up close. She drags her eyes to his face, noting the dark hollows in his cheeks and under his eyes. His coal-black eyes. His dark red mouth twists into a smile once again and she is beginning to think his sharp incisors aren’t part of a costume either.

“Monster,” she spits. “Unhand me.”

She spins out of the way just as one of the others snaps his jaws next to her ear, missing his target. With her arm still ensnared she is unable to move very far, and collides into the chest of the third, a rotten scent wafting off him hitting her nostrils as she stumbles towards the ground. Out of the clutches of the creature once again, she scuttles back, cornering herself against an old sunken grave with a broken headstone.

She reaches her left hand out in front of her, palm facing them, momentarily halting their movements. The plain band on her fourth finger glints off the moonlight, catching her attention. It gives her an idea.

“You bloodsuckers don’t know who you’re messing with, do you?” she hums, cracking a sideways smile.

The two giggling figures skip around her in circles as the towering demon lowers his face to meet hers, a wet smirk curving his face into a twisted visage.

“Why don’t you enlighten us,” he replies.

“My husband is-” 

Her next words are replaced by a piercing shriek, as the fangs of one of the beasts connect with the left side of her neck. She feels his sharp teeth ripping through her delicate skin and the pain burns across her in a fiery wave. Before she can fight him off, the grinning ghoul in front of her grabs her arm yet again, the left one with the simple golden ring, sinking his greedy maw into her wrist. Sharp pain shoots up her arm and her lungs empty on a scream. She sucks in air to cry out again but a filthy hand is clamped over her mouth first, muting the wail she attempts when the third monster’s teeth pierce the flesh of her other arm just above her elbow.

She lies on her back on the ground, the pain searing through her quickly giving way to a numbness washing across her skin. With the cool soothing of the pain comes a stilling calm, altogether paralyzing her from fighting back or even wanting to. The grimy hand slides from her lips as her mouth fails to make any additional sounds. My husband, she mouths the words. Her eyes drift to her left hand, her wedding ring just beyond the monster’s head still reflecting light, even as blood drips from her wrist across her fingers. 

He’s going to kill you, she thinks, unable to even form words now.

The cemetery has turned dark and she slowly realizes that she must have closed her eyes. She can still hear the wind whipping through the trees, creaking branches and blowing dried leaves against the fence nearby. There are no other noises among the silent tombs other than the sloppy slurping noises of the three vampires who are draining her body. 

She sees a dim light in the distance, like a flickering candle. No, she thinks, it can’t be a candle because her eyes are closed. She watches the candle getting closer to her, or maybe she’s getting closer to it. The bright orange glow from the candle becomes clearer as it nears, until finally she sees it right in front of her.

It’s a solitary tapered black candle, gently burning as wax drips slowly along its side. It’s just like the candle she lit at her initiation ceremony, she thinks. The coven of witches she belongs to is elite and extremely difficult to join. Her aunt had extended the invite when she showed rare magical aptitude as a teenager. Only second daughters can join, as the condition of induction was to pledge your body, mind, and life in unholy matrimony to the Dark Lord Lucifer himself. She was honored to be chosen and after many years of apprenticeship, she lit the black candle on a full moon a little over a year ago. It was identical to the candle she is looking at now, the candle she lit at her wedding to the Devil.

The flame before her suddenly gutters and goes out, leaving her in complete darkness.

***

She feels it before she senses anything else, the warmth spreading across her face, radiating out from her lips. Her cheeks burn against the freezing wind and her hair, no longer bound by her cloak, tickles wispy tendrils across her forehead. Long moments pass as the warmth spreads and finally she opens her eyes, suddenly swallowing a scream. Except she can’t scream. There is a man pressing his lips to hers.

She is being kissed by a stranger. 

A man with deep espresso eyes meets her gaze, dark curly hair falling over his forehead. He pulls back from her, his facial hair tickling her lip as his mouth curls into a shy smile.

“Welcome back” his voice, thick as syrup, coats her consciousness.

“I-,” she starts, realizing that the warmth is now spreading down her chest, across her stomach, and flowing into her arms and legs. “Did I-”

“Die?” he finishes quietly. “Yeah.”

Her eyes widen, the sharp teeth of the creatures coming back to the forefront of her mind. She looks around frantically, suddenly worried they might return to rip into her flesh and drain her dry.

“They’re gone,” he answers the question she didn’t ask.

He rises up onto his feet, and she sees he’s dressed in all black. He wears pressed black trousers and shiny dress shoes that somehow don’t have a speck of mud on them. He tugs on his black suit jacket, straightening it, and presses his hand over his black shirt and tie, smoothing out invisible wrinkles. This man looks like he just came from a fancy gala, she thinks, not that he was just crouched over her lifeless form in a dirty cemetery.

He reaches his hands out to her and she surprisingly takes them without question, allowing him to help her to her shaky feet. Before she can protest he wraps an arm around her waist and although part of her wants to object she knows that she wouldn’t be able to remain standing if he hadn’t done so.

“Let me walk you home,” he says softly, guiding her to the back gate and basically carrying her along the neglected path into the woods.

She doesn’t speak, although her mind is racing a mile a minute. Did she really die? She remembers being attacked by the vampires and not being able to fight them off but she doesn’t remember what happened after that. She weakly raises her left hand up, inspecting her wrist and seeing nothing but unblemished skin absent of any marks including any dried blood that should be there, remembering how it ran in rivulets from the monster’s wet lips. She brings her fingers to her neck, brushing them over smooth skin there as well. It would seem that her bite wounds have somehow been healed and she has been cleaned of any and all evidence of her attack.

Who in the world is this man, she wonders. Maybe the vampires left and he luckily showed up just in time, perhaps reviving her somehow. He certainly doesn’t look like someone who just fought off three bloodsucking beasts and how could he anyways, without being attacked himself? It isn’t until they reach the clearing in the woods where her small cottage sits, a lantern on the porch giving off a warm glow, that she realizes she never told him where she lived.

She pulls away, feeling a bit stronger now, and wanting to distance herself from the seemingly kind but rather unusual man who has inexplicably returned her to her secluded abode. Wait, was that mouth-to-mouth or was he kissing her when she was dead? She gives him a sideways glance and plasters the most polite smile she can manage onto her face. Smoothing strands of her tousled hair away from her face, she turns to him and her eyes widen as the man in black reaches forward and plucks a leaf out of her hair. He drops it, letting the wind carry it away as he smiles sweetly at her, looking harmless as a lamb.

“Thank you for-,” 

“What is your name?” he interrupts.

“Oh-, I-, Luna,” she stammers, caught off guard by his inquiry.

“Luna,” he repeats, drawing her name out as he wraps his lips around the vowels.

“Yes, and thank you for-” she attempts again, trailing off as he slowly steps around her, continuing to walk towards her porch. “-for helping me, I guess,” she finishes, turning to follow him while wondering what she’s really thanking him for. Did he save her? “I don’t know how to repay you,” she speaks to his back as he climbs up the steps, “but I’m thankful for your assistance.”

“Do you live out here all alone?” he asks, ignoring the gratitude she’s attempting.

“That’s-,” none of your business, she thinks. She doesn’t want to be rude so instead she says, “this cottage has been in my family for generations.”

It’s not a lie. She is - in fact - the only member of her family living in the one-bedroom dwelling right now but it has been lived in by members of her family for over two hundred years.

“It’s not safe for a young girl to be out here alone in the woods,” he says, reaching for the handle and opening the door she knows she locked when she left the house earlier today with no resistance.

She wants to protest that she can take care of herself, which is her usual response when people say things like this, but given what has transpired tonight she bites her tongue. Instead she follows him as he enters her home without invitation, drawn into the main room. She watches as he closely inspects framed photos on the walls, touches the spines of old books on her bookshelf, and toggles the flue of her chimney as he passes the hearth.

She wants to ask him to leave. No, she wants to physically shoo him out of her home. Who does this man think he is and what right does he have to waltz into her home and parade around as if it were his own? She reaches towards the vial in her pocket only to bitterly recall having already used it tonight in her attempt to disable her attackers. 

She follows a way behind him, straightening what he’s poking out of alignment and trying to ignore her growing sense of unease. She looks up at the man in black to find him stopped and standing very close to her. She gasps in a sharp breath as he seems to examine her with a curious stare. A long moment of silence passes as a gentle smile builds on his face. She pushes past the knots forming in her stomach in an awkward attempt to match his gesture.

“You’re married?” he asks.

“What?” Her brows knit, surprised by the query.

“You were mumbling about a husband when I found you,” he explains, pointing to the golden ring on her finger as further evidence.

“Oh, I-,” and she pauses, unsure of how to proceed. 

She turns towards the fireplace, using the hand he motioned towards to push some dust around the thick wooden mantle. She curses herself. She should have said she lived here with her husband when he asked if she was alone but he’s already come to the conclusion she is the solitary occupant of the tiny cottage. But she is wearing a wedding ring and he apparently heard her talking about her husband in the cemetery. She can’t very well explain to this mortal man in black that she’s married to the Devil, he’ll come back with a pitchfork carrying mob. Best case scenario is she winds up in a psych hospital and worst case is that she becomes kindling.

Wait, how did he hear her talking about her husband, she thinks? She only remembers mentioning him to the vampires before the attack and then any words beyond that didn’t seem to leave her mind. 

She whips back around to find him standing even closer now and before she can react he grabs her left hand in his. She opens her mouth to scream but he lifts her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss right over her wedding band. A warmth spreads across her hand and up her arm, jolting her body as images play across her mind.

***

Her body lay bloodless over the damp soil of someone else’s grave. Three greedy ghouls, licking crimson from their craws, eyes glistening with glee. The thrashing wind comes to an eerie still and the man in black materializes in the shadows of a nearby willow. He stalks silently but the creatures see him coming and let out a loud hiss, frantically fleeing at the mere sight of him. The man in black raises his hand, snapping his fingers, and white-hot flames instantly engulf each vampire. He stops to watch them burning, their tormented howls piercing the night, until they are nothing but shadows and ash carried away on the breeze. He moves to his knees at her side, touching the ring on her left hand reverently, before he leans down and places his lips over hers.

***

She takes in a deep breath, her lantern-lit cabin coming back into focus around her, the man in black still bowed slightly in front of her, lips against her hand. He raises his head and his rich brown eyes meet hers once more, only this time she knows exactly who she’s looking at.

“Hello, wife,” he smiles sweetly.

Her eyebrows climb up her forehead as she attempts to pull back her hand from his gentle grip, which tightens in response over her delicate fingers. She’s no longer a stranger to the true nature of the man in black who stands in front of her, having sacrificed her immortal soul to him in order to draw on his supernatural influence to fuel her dark magic. But to have him actually standing in her living room, the raw power radiating off him is enough to make her bones ache, and she finds herself stunned and a bit scared. She continues to try and wriggle out of his crushing grip until he stills her with his words.

“Aren’t you lonely out here all alone?” he questions, his lips still upturned into a saccharine grin.

“No I-, I prefer to be alone,” she stutters.

“Is that why you want me to leave even though I just got here?” his mouth turns to a frown.

“No!” She exclaims. “I don’t want you to leave, I just-”

“I did exactly what you wanted, didn’t I?” He lets go of her as he begins to circle her in the small space. “You wanted me to destroy those monsters who dared to lay a finger on you and I did. And then I fixed you up good as new. Well… almost” he winks at her as he tucks a loose strand of her messy hair behind her ear. 

“Yes, I was-,” she shakes her head, the nerves sending a hot wave up her neck to burn at her cheeks. “Thank you,” she stammers.

“You don’t have to thank me, wife,” he hums. “I always take care of what’s mine.”

“Yours…” she trails off.

“Yes,” he smiles. “You are.” He strokes his fingers against her cheek, so warm against her still-chilled skin. “You were saying something about repayment and I think I’d like to make a request.” His smile is sickly sweet once again, boring deep into her.

“Oh-,” she starts before he grabs both her hands in his, silencing her.

“I think I’d like another kiss.”

Another, she thinks, because their first kiss was when she was… deceased.

“Yes,” he continues as if reading her thoughts. “Our first kiss felt like ‘Snow White and the Prince who woke her from her slumber’. But our story isn’t a fairytale, is it my dear bride?”

“No,” she whispers tentatively.

“No,” he agrees. “Our story is one of dedication,” he places his large, warm hands on her shoulders. “Of adoration,” he continues, pushing down until she sinks to her knees. “Of worship,” she tilts her chin to look up at his dark gaze above her now. “And that deserves a very different kind of kiss, don’t you agree?”

She manages to nod her head slightly as he reaches to unbuckle his belt. Watching as he unzips his trousers and pulls himself out of his pants, she’s not surprised to see how well-endowed he is but is a bit shocked at how stiff he’s already become.

He cups his right hand around her neck, pushing his length towards her face with his other hand. She finds herself pursing her lips together in a kiss only to have him push past them into her empty mouth. Of course she knew what he wanted, not just a kiss, but she’s still feeling a bit disoriented. He makes tentative, shallow thrusts while her hands rest on the front of his thighs before she hears him muttering above her through clenched teeth.

“Come now, wife, I thought you were grateful.”

She reaches to grip him and puts some effort into her ministrations. It’s not that she’s inexperienced but it has been a while since she was with a man, since before her wedding ceremony certainly. When she pledged her body to the Dark Lord, she certainly wasn’t envisioning having to perform an act such as this. However, she figures the best course of action is to not just let him take what he wants, but to give him an unforgettable experience. It's in her best interest to show him how appreciative she really is of his rescue.

She pulls her head back, swirling her tongue over his tip, while pumping him firmly with one hand. When she hears him moan in response and grab her hair in his fist, she knows she’s on the right track. She flattens her tongue along her bottom teeth and lets him guide her head up and down, taking him deeper with each pass until she begins to make choked gagging noises.

He lets go and she pants, wiping away the drool that now streaks her chin and hears him chuckle above her at the sound of her gasping breaths. Before she can stop herself, she scratches her nails down his thighs, probably harder than she should have given the fact that he’s the Prince of Darkness. A hissing intake of breath is followed by a deep, rumbling laugh that seems to reverberate off the walls of the small cabin and vibrate deep in her chest, and then his hand is back in her hair in a rough, twisting tug.

He shoves himself past her lips in one go this time, hitting the back of her throat with a gurgle and this time she lets him use her mouth like a toy, grabbing at his ass and holding on tightly. This goes on for several agonizing minutes, him allowing her to gulp in much-needed air in between the rough, dominating ramming of his pelvis into her chin. Finally she hears him cry out just as he pulls away, immediately grabbing himself tightly at the base of his shaft and shaking his head.

“Oh, that was close,” he says breathlessly, laughing without humor. “That lovely mouth of yours is so decadent, wife, that I almost lost control.”

Good, she thinks, and she can’t stop the smug smile that creeps across her face.

“Proud of yourself my little witch?” He tilts her chin up to meet his eyes, brushing away escaped saliva from her cheek. “Let’s see what happens when you’re the one being so deliciously tormented.”

At this point she has no idea what to expect of him but grabbing her off the floor and throwing her over his shoulders was certainly not something she anticipated, so the surprised wail that escapes her lips is almost inaudible to human ears. She hears him chuckle yet again as they pass through the door concealed as a bookcase to carry her into her bedroom. The man in black walks through this home as if he owns it, she thinks, before she recalls herself bowing before a black altar and offering everything she possesses in service to him. 

Perhaps this house is more his than hers, she recognizes, as she hears him hum in agreement to a thought she didn’t speak out loud. Before she can question his possible reading of her thoughts she’s deposited onto her four-poster bed, with its velvet emerald curtains wrapped around walnut-hued spires, vines carved in swirls around them. Her vision focuses on the man in black before her only to realize that he’s no longer wearing a stitch of clothing. She opens her mouth to speak but her eyes catch on her own body, laid bare in front of him.

“How- ohhh,” her questioning is cut short when he dives forward, spreading her legs and latching his mouth to her core in one fluid movement. 

He drags his tongue up her seam and then closes his lips around her sensitive nub. He begins to pulse his tongue against her and she is unable to stop herself from immediately crying out in pleasure. She’s positive that he knows exactly what he’s doing when in under sixty seconds her back is already bowing off the bed, her nails digging into the sheets, her voice crying out in ecstasy.

He pulls back and gently places kisses on the insides of her thighs, she feels the warm huffing breath of his laughter blowing across her wetness. He gives her a short moment of reprieve before he slowly pushes a gloriously thick finger into her wet heat, moving to swirl his tongue across her overstimulated bundle of nerves. He lets her writhe and wiggle, attempting to move away only until the sensitivity fades and she finds herself grinding her center towards his face for more.

Somehow she has her wits about her enough to grab his hair this time, eliciting a hum of approval from him that she feels vibrate against her. She’s proud to see that she’s able to hold out a bit longer before her orgasm tips her over the edge, but her ego crumbles when instead of stopping he continues his ministrations to bring a third crashing wave of pleasure immediately after the second.

Delicious torment, indeed.

He pulls his face back again, glistening with her arousal and smiles a devilish grin, his pupils blown so wide that his eyes are nearly black. He roams up her body, placing kisses that feel more like bites than smooches, devouring with his eyes what his mouth can’t reach.

“Husband,” she keens, the desperation in her voice unfamiliar to her ears.

The responding growl that escapes his chest seems to shake not only the room but the entire forest around them, vibrating deep into the wood foundation. He grabs her ankles and spreads her legs obscenely wide, notching his thick head at her entrance and sliding it back and forth, coating himself in her wetness. He waits until she’s clawing at his chest, head thrown back and begging him in frenzied babbles, and only then does he finally push himself into the clutch of her.

“My magnificent mate, what an agreeable display of thankfulness you’ve given me today,” he proclaims, setting a fervent pace. “So welcoming to your dark angel, eagerly performing such valued wifely duties for him,” he continues to prattle, more for his sake than her own since all she can manage in response is frenzied moaning. “Perhaps I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you, my wanton little witch.”

He pushes on the back of her legs, driving her knees towards her chest and hitting inside her at a new angle that causes her to scream out in bliss. She wraps her own arms around her legs, holding them tight to her as he mutters words of encouragement and praise. She feels another orgasm building inside her, starting as a tingle at the base of her spine.

He leans forward and spans his large hand across her throat. “Whose pussy is this?” he asks, giving her no time to respond before he’s demanding more answers. “Who’s the only one who gets you down on your knees? Who is the only one who makes you come? Who do you belong to? Who? Who?”

She manages to scratch out a long wail of “you,” beneath the pressure of his hold before she starts to tremble and break apart, coming again in a seizing crest. In a half growl he demands she open her mouth and when she enthusiastically obeys he leans over her and spits, gripping tightly at her neck to feel her strained swallow. Only then does he let himself lose control, grabbing her hips with a bruising grip and pounding away half a dozen more times before he lets loose a roaring release, pumping his warm spend deep inside her.

***

She pads out of the shower, head and body wrapped in warm towels, and comes across her amorous husband perched on the edge of the bed once again dressed in his all-black ensemble. She sees him looking into the nightstand drawer he has opened and before he can reach his hand in to grab what she’s sure is something she’d be rather embarrassed to have to explain, she clears her throat. His hands still but he doesn’t appear surprised by her presence, likely having no qualms about being caught peeping through her unmentionables.

Wordlessly, he shoots her a glare, displaying ire that is no doubt driven by the trove of sex toys he’s just discovered stashed away in her bedside drawer. She shrugs and heads to her dresser, turning her back on him to pull out her pajamas and giving what she hopes is a flippant but playful reply. 

“Just because I’m married doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself when I’m alone.”

He says nothing in response but she hears a throaty rumble and notices the flames dance higher for a moment in response. She turns to find him behind her, although she didn’t hear him approach, so close now that she can feel the heat of his body radiating onto her skin. He pulls the towel loose from her hair and caresses the side of her face, tucking some loose strands behind her ear. She bumps backwards against the dresser but stills as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss onto her forehead.

“Are you leaving?” she asks, hating the disappointment she hears evident in her voice.

“I have things to attend to, but worry not darling wife, I will return to you,” he speaks against her forehead and she isn’t sure if the flip her stomach does is from excitement or fear of his promise. “Be careful out here in these woods alone, it’s just not safe,” he echoes his earlier sentiment and she nods her head silently in a placating gesture. 

She shuffles her slippered feet, seeing him to the door and watches him as he walks until his dark form reaches the edge of the glow of the lantern lights and he slips back into the shadows.

***

“I can’t believe it,” Jadis guffaws, having listened to Luna’s entire recalling of the events of Halloween night.

“I swear to you, every word is true,” she lies, having told her friend the truth of the evening almost a fortnight ago up until the moment the man in black pushed her to her knees. Something about how the night ended made the whole encounter feel even more unbelievable, so she twisted the truth a bit to tell a story of a grateful wife ending the night with a chaste kiss instead.

“No, I can’t believe you waited two weeks to tell me about it!” the small witch exclaims loudly, both of them erupting into a fit of laughter, the hysterics sending the small car wobbling in its lane. “Did you tell the coven elders about it?” she wonders, having finally gotten a hold on her laughter and the steering wheel.

“Oh, Gods no,” Luna deflects. “This sort of thing is probably so commonplace, I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m bragging.”

But that was another lie. She knew damn well that if the Morning Star himself had ever appeared before any of the other witches in her coven that entire memoirs would have been written about it, let alone engaged in the manner of acts that he had with her. She felt heat passing across her cheeks as her mind flashed through memories of them together. As for telling the coven, she was never one to brag and she didn’t want to set off any jealousies. 

Technically they were all married to him, each and every one of a long line of witches having given themselves over to him and while it gave them deep and lasting power, he’d never bestowed any personal gifts upon any of them. In nearly two centuries of recorded history of their coven, he had never whispered sweet nothings on the wind, sprouted flowers in a garden on an anniversary, or intervened at all in any of their daily lives.

Even while she practices this internal rationalization with herself she knows that it is also a lie and that the real reason she's kept it secret is that his visit to her had made her feel special. It made her feel like she might really be the powerful witch she’d been told she was while growing up and that even their Dark Lord took unique notice of her. It made her feel cared for, perhaps a feeling intensified by her solitary lifestyle and etched into her mind by his repeated reminders of her being “all alone in the woods”.

She remembers the way his warmth spread across her as he placed his lips over hers and the mischief that danced in his eyes when he stood above her in her living room. A buzzing feeling spreads down her chest and settles deep in her belly as she recalls the way he coaxed pleasure from her over and over again, and his delightful threat to keep a closer eye on her plays on repeat in her mind.

Loud sirens sound behind them, knocking her from her reverie and startling Jadis into quickly pulling over on the side of the road. Two large fire trucks speed by them, blaring horns and flashing lights. Behind them follow several police cars and two smaller fire department trucks. Once the raucous cavalcade passes, Jadis pulls back onto the road and follows along the darkening route out of town.

A short drive later as the car meanders along the winding drive into the woods, the fading sunlight gives way to quite a spectacle ahead of them. The woods ahead seem to be glowing a magnificent orange while red and blue lights flash blindingly against the tree trunks. A heavy fog obscurs the view as bundled figures run from truck to truck, dragging hoses around and shouting muffled orders from behind helmets with face masks.

Not fog… smoke.

Her woods are on fire. Her cottage is on fire. She ignores Jadis’ protests and jumps from the passenger seat of the car before it has even stopped moving, vaulting herself towards her home. Before she can get close she feels large arms wrap around her middle, stopping her forward movement as two firemen approach her with their arms out, trying to calm her down. Eventually she settles and the man holding her, dressed head to toe in firefighter gear, releases his grip around her while keeping one hand gently on her shoulder.

When the blaze is finally extinguished she lets the fireman who has comforted her guide her around the smoldering perimeter of what was her centuries-old home. The inferno had burned hot and quick and she doesn’t recognize anything to be salvageable, save for the cast iron cauldron she sees sitting among the fallen hearthstones. She turns to him in the dark, his face completely hidden behind his mask, and sees only her own image reflected in his visor; trails of tears streak her soot-covered cheeks and strands of hair chaotically twist in the wind, matching the mood of the evening.

She feels more tears stinging at her eyes and lets the broad-shouldered fireman turn her away from the sight of the destruction, tugging her against his smoke-scented jacket and tapping a gentle hand on her back in sympathy. She feels herself break open and let go, sobbing deeply into this stranger’s shoulder for several minutes before she takes deep breaths and slowly collects herself.

A tall, tie-wearing fireman approaches her alongside a shorter man sporting a police uniform and a very thick mustache. She turns to them, sniffling and wiping her tears from her face.

“Is there anywhere we can take you, Miss?” the officer questions with a nasally voice.

“Do you want us to call anyone, your husband maybe?” the warm voice beside her asks.

“Oh, sorry ma’am, I didn’t see the ring,” the officer apologizes. 

“They think the fire may have originated from the nightstand in the bedroom, but the fire investigators are still working,” the tall man speaks in a deep soothing voice while she focuses on the glinting badge pinned to his chest that reads 'Fire Chief'.

“Can we take you back into town?” the officer continues. “Maybe there’s a hotel or somewhere your husband can meet up with you?”

She sniffles, the mention of her husband stinging at her wounded pride. The man in black had been attentive enough to bring her back from the dead but apparently not to stop her home from burning to the ground. Keep a closer eye, my ass, she thinks bitterly. She wants to be upset but a part of her tries to rationalize that she should still be grateful that he intervened at all on that violent Halloween eve. However, tonight’s events have the euphoric high of the last two weeks quickly wearing off, and she feels another jab of hurt that he hasn’t tried to contact her once since he left.

“I can drive you to your Aunt’s house,” a small voice speaks up behind her, and Luna emerges from the fog of her thoughts to realize that Jadis has been here the whole time.

Fresh tears spill down her cheeks as she nods a small thanks, taking her friend’s outstretched hand and letting herself be guided back towards the little car parked down the drive.

“Hey,” she hears a shy voice speak up. 

She turns around to see the familiar broad-shoulders of the fireman who has been her companion for hours. He takes large steps, coming to stand right in front of her in the drive and Jadis continues on to wait in the car, giving them privacy.

“Be careful, okay?” he pleads, and she opens her mouth to tell him she’ll be fine. “It’s not safe for a young girl to be out here alone in the woods,” he finishes, reaching a gloved hand forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She freezes, watching her own eyes go wide in the reflection of his visor. She reaches a hand forward slowly, grabbing the bottom of the mask. When he makes no move to stop her, she flips it up, knocking his helmet off of his head in the process. She knows what she’s expecting to see under the mask, or rather who she is expecting to see. 

What she doesn’t expect is for the entire uniform to collapse in front of her very eyes, landing in a limp pile on the ground at her feet as if nothing but a spectre had inhabited it. With shaking hands she leans down and grabs a small white paper sticking out of the collar of the empty jacket. She flips it over in her trembling fingers, reading it several times. It’s a business card for Joel Miller, a familiar face smiling from a photo on one side of the card. The Devil’s in the Details, Inc., it says, and below that is written ‘Home Building & Realty’, along with a local address and phone number.

On the back of the card is a handwritten note:

I always take care of what’s mine. xx - your loving husband

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 10/29/2024

new boot goofin. also a great book for the cowboyblogger crew and TWO cat photos

listening

afterimage by JUSTICE and Rimon was on a spotify autogenerated dance playlist and it is So soothing to my brain. sometimes described as heavy metal disco, it itches the same brain scratch as daft punk's interstella 5555. comforting and familiar road trip music where the road trips are in spaceships with a sort of clunky engine thrumming away in the background. you know that extremely early ass o clock in the morning road trip feel where it's very pale and a little misty out and you're only sort of awake? i feel like this is a very different kind of road trip music animal than than late-night road trip music. it's pulling you out the door. it's for beginnings, not for very tired almost-ends.

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reading

thank you mackie. very reading heavy week. im tryign to redirect myself into library books instead of election doomscrolling and im trying to read more physical books bc i have a tremendous pile of shit i genuinely do want to read and almost none of it is on my phone. first we'll talk about Navigational Entanglements by Aliette de Bodard, from randomly perusing the library stacks. really really really fucking loved this one.

Award-winning author of The Red Scholar’s Wake Aliette de Bodard comes for your heart with a compelling tale of love, duty, and found-family in an exciting new space opera that brings xianxia-style martial arts to the stars. Jockeying navigator clans guide spaceships through the Hollows: an area of space populated by the mysterious but deadly creatures known as Tanglers. When a Tangler escapes the Hollows for the first time in living memory, each clan must send a representative to help capture it—but the mission may be doomed and the hearts of two clan juniors may be in danger too.

first off: this isn't fucking found family. this is a group of coworkers. tor dot com loves to slap found family on anything gay.

politics is about control and inter-group dynamic politics are also about control. and grappling for control in your life when you grow up in a Young Leadership program. i really liked this, one of the least annoying examples of someone getting overstimulated and needing to lie down in a dark quiet room and how hanging out with some people does not impair rest and hanging out with some people is extremely extremely draining. the love interest is what if lee van cleef was a young vietnamese woman in the far future who can navigate faster than light travel.

very snappy little 160-pg novella that does not overstay its welcome. packs a genuinely surprising amount of worldbuilding and character work into its pages: i have a lot of trouble with ensemble casts post-Covid and keeping everyone straight (especially in hard copy form where I can’t easily search a book) but everyone is a fully formed person here and i had no trouble keeping everyone straight in my head. i will be asking my siblings to acquire a physical copy for me for christmas. i love a fucked up political mystery with spacewalks and space monsters.

the lead, nhi, reminded me a lot of friends at the table's brnine, a self-sacrificing perfectionist fish. hope that's useful information to all three of you i have bullied into listening to fatt

The Shabti by Megaera C. Lorenz. this finally came off my holds, hat tip to i think someone else's tuesdaypost? cannot immediately locate it. holler if it was you.

Can you flimflam a ghost? It’s 1934. Former medium Dashiel Quicke travels the country debunking spiritualism and false mediums while struggling to stay ahead of his ex-business partner and lover who wants him back at any cost. During a demonstration at a college campus, Dashiel meets Hermann Goschalk, an Egyptologist who’s convinced that he has a genuine haunted artifact on his hands. Certain there is a rational explanation for whatever is going on with Hermann’s relics, Dashiel would rather skip town, but soon finds himself falling for Hermann. He agrees to take a look after all and learns that something is haunting Hermann’s office indeed. Faced with a real ghost Dashiel is terrified, but when the haunting takes a dangerous turn, he must use the tools of the shady trade he left behind to communicate with this otherworldly spirit before his past closes in.

this keeps getting reviewed as cozy horror, which i do not agree with bc i hate the term and believe it oxymoronic. it is a fairly straightforward romance with paranormal shit happening in the foreground. a period piece not particularly for the folx end of the fag/folx gay book spectrum-- they happen to be gay but there's a lot of other shit happening. not a spicy romance as the tiktok girlies say. it is a period book that sort of elides over the worst parts of the 30s? eg there is no on-page or overt racism or antisemitism that the characters have to Confront. one of the lead's neighbors is a black nurse trying to start a NAACP chapter, but she's so fully fleshed out and such an enjoyable character it doesn't feel like the book is looking for moral points from modern readers. i also liked the general slow-build of the book and their relationship — i have no complaints about the intensity or pace of their relationship.

the one ding i have is that it is perhaps a touch too enthusiastic about period slang. it's fine when the two leads are talking to each other, especially bc their word choice is a large way they show their personality, but when there are more than two people in a scene it can grate a little for me. i do think the dialogue is generally the strong suit here, and the author particularly excels at two-person back and forths, so it’s not a frequent complaint.

i liked the contrast of the scam medium with the academic egyptologist, since many egyptologists were also scams. the scenes with the spirit are genuinely eerie, which is a very good contrast with the fairly straightforward, often sparse narration.

grudging respect for keeping a joke simmering on the back burner for four hundred pages before deploying it. this was a well-paced read i have no major complaints about.

i have to spin this book around in my brain and get a physical copy and flip back and forth and lot and make notes to myself in a separate notebook before i talk about this one here i think. same brain itch as a canticle for leibowitz.

i also read a bunch of comics but this section is already long enough goodbye

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watching

the first episode of the currently airing penguin tv show! at my bestie's house bc she has an hbo max subscription from something, unfortunately it is an emotionally fraught very tense show and we're kind of full up on those so i will have to finish this on my own. at no point did i say to myself "whoa that's colin farrell". both the prosthetic and accent work are off the charts.

i do Not like a piece of media about the mob. i will stomach it for batman. it's really wild how the accents they've chosen for gotham and her suburbs make me so so so weirdly homesick. one of the locations is an early McMansion and my bestie and i said almost simultaneously "are we in fucking Cherry Hill???" a jersey noveau riche town infested with notable McMansions.

i am constantly chasing the high of s1 black sails where everyone is frantically scheming and falling all over them fucking selves. this gets pretty close! it's big budget prestige tv with the storytelling chops to match so far. one of my favorite comic runs is The Long Halloween, partially about the fortunes of the Maroni and Falcone crime families of Gotham. this is loosely following that, but deviates enough to surprise me, which i enjoy. there have been enough faithful adaptations of that comic run imo.

optimistic about the rest of the season! i have such low expectations for batman media that it's refreshing to get like a genuinely good pilot episode out of the franchise.

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playing

i have Got to find a new game to play that i already own. genshin is such a good podcast game but i need Something New. surely the 576047357649857689 games across five libraries will save me.

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making

so many things happened this week. cat neuter and constipation episode. helped take apart and put back together a children's' room. lot of running around.

crunchy! i almost left these docs at goodwill bc i don't have a super high opinion of the company or the quality of the boots. i have heard my ENTIRE life about how long-lasting they are and how people have had the same boots for years but i completely shredded a pair during eight months in 2019. like the soles were worn almost completely smooth to the point they were a slipping hazard, half the eyelets were broken, and the leather was genuinely disintegrating. that was one of the busiest and most active periods of my life (classes at other campuses both semesters, a summer in new hampshire, the beginning of the makerspace) but i did expect them to hold up a little better or a little longer. they only got to experience about a month and a half of salt at the beginning and were regularly cleaned. yes i did buy them straight from the company.

anyway. these extremely ugly docs industrials had almost all their tread and magically fit me. like the rest of me, my feet are large and wide and difficult to fit. they are by Far the ugliest shoes i have ever owned. however. they will be the boots i will wear for when i need to be okay about potentially destroying my footwear.

hit em with some saddle soap and polished the toes, i seem to be flat out of leather conditioner so i was only able to hit the heels and one tongue. the laces are in the warsh.

they're real leather and were twelve dollars and miraculously fit me. you know that quote about americans being temporarily embarrassed millionaires? i still, in many ways, think of myself as a temporarily embarrassed abled person. i am slowly giving up on the idea of another remote job, bc they seem to all be fake, and going harder on city and county jobs. while i would rather wear my beloved CAT steel toes with the nice padded cuffs any day of the week, maybe these will be good for tromping around somewhere inspecting something. would Love a weights and measures inspection job if their office would return my polite messages.

also ruby goes home tonight! goodbye ruby!