#i can not engage with anything remotely positive

[parachutingkitten]

Skybound is my anti-comfort season.

I can't handle any positive statements about it because it's just so, preciously, awful to me.

[celestialprincesse]

hi!

could you write a soft (with a hint of spice) story about Simon or Konig where reader is in dire need of getting affection, but doesn’t want to bother them by asking?

please and thank you!! 🫶🫶

Of course I can!! Sorry for letting this gather dust in my ask box!! I keep meaning to go through my asks but I end up getting distracted and yapping!

mdni 🎀 mild nsfw

König doesn't pay you much attention as you sit curled on the worn couch in his office, trying to avoid the springs that dig through the old leather of the cushions, whilst simultaneously trying to get comfortable. At the beginning, the incessant snatching of his rudimentary biro on the obnoxious stack of forms occupying his desk had been soothing. You'd even managed to drift of for a snooze at one point, before being woken up by some sergeant barging into his office. Your positive mood has long since faded. You're hungry, having held out for the promise that he'd take you to your favourite restaurant as soon as he finished filling out his mission reports, said promise having been nearly three hours ago - and the stupid lights of his dingy office have you convinced that you've got a migraine coming on. "Shouldn't a colonel's office be a little nicer than this?" You hum, attempting to catch your boyfriend's attention, an attempt which is promptly thrown back out you when he gives a noncommittal grunt.

You manage to keep occupied with your own thoughts for another ten minutes before you're up on your feet, poring over the books on his shelf in an attempt to find something at least remotely engaging. Unfortunately, your boyfriend's literature is limited to weaponry and maps, neither of which you find particularly intriguing. Eventually you manage to find some dusty biography of some commander with a name you can't even pronounce, settling back on the couch to skim the pages for anything that may be of any possible interest. Unsurprisingly, it comes up naught. For a while, you try to settle with just resting, listening to the rhythmic sound of putting one to paper - a while being five minutes, and then you're at your wits end. König lets out a confused, slightly disgruntled huff as you plop yourself down on his lap, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck with a deep sigh. "Leibe-" He grunts, his pen dropping to the desk as he uses a hand to rub up and down your spine, suddenly sensing your frustration now that he's been ripped from the hyper-focussed state he'd been in. "Been ignoring me all day." You whine, aiming for him to take some pity on you. "You know I didn't mean to, my love." A massive hand stroking through your hair has you practically melting into him as he absently massages the nape of your neck with his strong fingers.

Apparently, having his attention isn't enough, because despite the hand alternating between brushing through your hair and soothing the muscles in his shoulders, you still find yourself grinding down on the sinewy muscle of his denim-clad thigh. "Needy thing." He coos as you rock your cunt back and forth over his tree trunk of a leg, blushing face hidden against his collar. He doesn't mind, of course, not at all. In fact, he gives a helping hand, gently bouncing his leg up and down as your hips cant needily against him, your panties slick soaked and see through as you get yourself off on his leg.

The minute you've finished, he's pressing affectionate, loving kisses to your head and rubbing the taut muscles of your back. "Next time you're bored, schatz, just tell me, hm?"

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Threes a Formula

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Y/n Müller, a Media Design graduate from Stuttgart, accepts a live-in nanny position with the prestigious Wolff family in Monaco. She moves to care for their young son, Jack, and quickly adapts to the fast-paced lifestyle of the Formula One world. 

Pairing: Toto Wolff x Susie Wolff x Nanny!reader

Masterlist

Warnings: fluff in the beginning. Later; 18+, cursing, age gap relationship, smut, Daddy kink, Mommy kink.

Ch.2

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Chapter 1: Welcome to the Wolffs

Y/n Müller had always been driven by a deep sense of creativity and a desire to make a meaningful impact on the lives of others. Growing up in a bilingual household in Stuttgart, she had developed a passion for languages and cultures, seamlessly switching between German and English. This dual heritage had given her a unique perspective and a love for connecting with people from diverse backgrounds.

When it came time to choose a field of study, Y/n followed her heart and enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts program, majoring in Media Design. She was drawn to the world of visual storytelling, believing that design could shape perceptions and inspire change. Her coursework was rigorous, covering everything from graphic design to video production, but Y/n thrived in the academic environment.

However, as graduation approached, Y/n found herself at a crossroads. While she loved the theoretical aspects of her studies, she longed for a more hands-on role where she could apply her knowledge in real-life situations. She had worked part-time as a nanny throughout her university years, discovering a natural talent for engaging with children and creating enriching experiences for them.

One evening, while scrolling through job postings, Y/n stumbled upon an advertisement that caught her eye: 

______________________________________________________________

WE ARE HIRING

a live-in nanny position for a family in Monaco. bilingual background (German and English) 

Job description: A high-profile family deeply embedded in motorsports is looking for a bilingual nanny who can travel with them fully and adjust to a dynamic lifestyle.

Required skills: Background in early childhood care.

Job Location: Monaco (base)

______________________________________________________________

It didn't say who that family was, but since she was a new motorsports fan, she had recently started watching "Drive to Survive" on Netflix, it only had 2 Seasons and she just started on episode 3 of season 1. All that she knew about motorsports she got from Drive to Survive but there are so many different categories, not only Formula 1. So she decided she may not know who they were anyway.

But that docuseries had piqued her interest, offering a glimpse into the thrilling and often dramatic world of F1 racing, full of fascinating stories, personalities, and grown men that could be so petty and childish sometimes. Between the drama and the drivers, she felt like watching an episode of "The Real Housewives" shows. Not to forget the lifestyle that comes with motorsports.

She felt an instant connection with the Mercedes team, even though they were hardly spoken about in the first season, since she was born in Stuttgart and everyone knows how interconnected that city is with the brand.

That's why her heart raced so fast as she read the listing. It seemed too good to be true! The chances that I really was anything remotely connected with the Show was slim but she still had a good feeling about it.

It also was just a chance to combine her creative background, passion for nurturing children, and newfound love for motorsports while experiencing life in an entirely new and glamorous setting, knowing that the family had wealth seeing as they live in Monaco. 

The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like the perfect opportunity. All those factors drove her to apply for the job. 

Working for that prominent family would allow her to make a significant impact on a kid's life, providing him or her as nanny a stable and loving presence amidst their busy lives. 

The role also offered her professional and personal growth, which a traditional design job might not provide. At least not in that capacity.

And the opportunity to travel with the family in their fast-paced world and manage the challenges of a high-profile household would push her out of her comfort zone and help her develop a diverse skill set. 

Plus, the exciting idea of living in Monaco, a city known for its beauty and sophistication, was too tempting to pass up. 

She could immerse herself in a new culture, build a global network, and create unforgettable memories. Her twenties were here so she could explore herself and the world so what better way than to travel and make friends.

She could always go back to her design background if she was getting tired of childcare. With her, you would never know.

Being highly interested in the job opening Y/n sent out her resume and a cover letter. Still not knowing who the family is. But she really didn't care who those people were as long as they were nice.

______________________________________________________________

I am writing to express my interest in the nanny position for your family. With a strong background in Media Design and over five years of experience in childcare, I am confident in my ability to provide a nurturing and enriching environment for your child. My bilingual skills and creative approach to education make me uniquely suited to support your family’s needs.

My experience includes designing engaging, educational activities that support children’s cognitive and emotional development. I am adept at managing busy schedules, coordinating travel, and maintaining the highest standards of discretion and professionalism. I believe my dedication and adaptability align well with the high standards you seek in a nanny.

I was born in Stuttgart, Germany, to a German mother and an American father, which afforded me the advantage of being raised bilingual in German and English. This multicultural background has not only enhanced my communication skills but also instilled in me a deep appreciation for diverse cultures. I am passionate about traveling and eager to learn from new environments, which I believe will enrich my role as a nanny.

Thank you for considering my application. I look forward to the opportunity to discuss how I can contribute to your family’s well-being.

Kind regards,

Y/n Müller

______________________________________________________________

When Y/n sent off her application, she felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. She had poured her heart into the cover letter, hoping her passion and experience would shine through. The following days were a whirlwind of emotions and activities as she waited for a response.

During those two weeks, Y/n kept herself busy to manage the anticipation. She continued her part-time nanny job, investing extra effort into creating engaging activities for the children she looked after. She also worked on freelance design projects, hoping to bolster her portfolio in case she needed to pivot back to her design career.

Y/n spent time with friends and family, sharing her hopes about the potential job in Monaco. They encouraged her, but the waiting was still nerve-wracking. Every time her phone buzzed, her heart raced, thinking it might be an email from the Wolff family.

To prepare herself for a possible interview, Y/n researched more about Monaco and the world of motorsports. She watched documentaries, read articles, and familiarized herself with the different sports leagues and key figures, hoping to impress the family with her knowledge if given the chance.

When the invitation for a video interview finally arrived, Y/n was both nervous and hopeful. The email's subject line made her heart skip a beat. She quickly opened it and read through the details, feeling a surge of excitement. She was thrilled to finally meet the family and get to know them, but also anxious about making a good impression.

______________________________________________________________

Dear Y/n,

We hope this email finds you well. Thank you for your interest in the nanny position with our family. We were delighted to receive your application and are impressed by your qualifications and enthusiasm.

Allow us to introduce ourselves. We are Toto and Susie Wolff, deeply involved in the world of motorsport. Toto serves as the Team Principal and CEO of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team, while Susie is a former racing driver and currently the CEO of ROKiT Venturi Racing in Formula E. Our careers require a significant amount of travel and flexibility, which is why we are seeking a reliable, creative, and adaptable nanny to assist in caring for our son, Jack.

Jack is a lively and curious three-year-old who loves exploring new things and learning through play. We are seeking someone who can not only care for him but also foster his love for learning and creativity. Your background in Media Design caught our attention, as we believe your creative skills can help make Jack’s experiences both fun and educational. Your bilingual ability is also a big plus, knowing you can speak both English and German with him.

We have scheduled a video interview with you to further discuss this opportunity. The interview will take place on January 12th at 3 PM. You can join the call using the following link: [Video Call Link].

During the interview, we would like to discuss your experience, your approach to childcare, and how you envision supporting Jack��s development. Additionally, we welcome any questions you may have about our family and Jack’s routine.

We hope you are as excited about this opportunity as we are about the prospect of having you join our family. Please let us know if you have any questions or need further information before the interview.

We look forward to speaking with you soon.

Warm regards,

Toto and Susie Wolff

______________________________________________________________

When Y/n received the email, her eyes widened in surprise and excitement as she read through it. She had been anxiously awaiting a response, but she never imagined that the family she had applied to work for was as prestigious as the Wolffs. She quickly reread the introduction, her heart racing.

"Wow," she whispered to herself. "Toto and Susie Wolff? This is incredible."

The significance of the opportunity began to sink in. Toto Wolff, the Team Principal and CEO of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team, and Susie Wolff, a former racing driver and the CEO of ROKiT Venturi Racing in Formula E, were offering her a chance to be part of their world. She felt a mixture of awe and determination.

Y/n couldn't help but smile as she thought about little Jack, imagining the lively and curious three-year-old they described. She was thrilled that her background in Media Design had caught their attention and that they saw the potential for her creative skills to enrich Jack’s experiences. Knowing they appreciated her bilingual ability gave her an added boost of confidence.

"January 12th at 3 PM," she murmured, making a mental note of the interview date and time. She clicked the video call link to ensure it worked, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

Her mind buzzed with a hundred thoughts at once. She needed to prepare thoroughly for the interview, making sure she could articulate her experience and vision for supporting Jack's development. She also wanted to prepare insightful questions to show her genuine interest in their family and lifestyle.

Y/n felt a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of nerves. This opportunity was bigger than she had anticipated, but she was determined to make the most of it. She took a deep breath, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her.

"This is it," she thought. "This could be the start of something truly amazing."

She immediately set to work, planning her preparations for the interview. She wanted to be ready to impress Toto and Susie Wolff, knowing that this was a chance to combine her passions for childcare, creativity, and cultural exploration in an extraordinary way.

The night before the interview, Y/n rehearsed her answers to potential questions and prepared thoughtful questions of her own. She set up her laptop in her parents' house in Stuttgart, double-checked her internet connection, and ensured her surroundings were neat and professional. If this interview didn’t work out, she reminded herself, she could always fall back on her design background. But deep down, she knew how much she wanted this opportunity.

______________________________________________________________

She took a deep breath and clicked the link to join the video call.

The screen flickered, and soon she found herself face-to-face with Toto and Susie Wolff. Y/n had done a quick search on them prior to the interview, discovering their significant influence in the motorsports world, but she still didn’t know the full extent of their prominence.

“Hello, Y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Susie said with a warm smile.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Wolff. Thank you for this opportunity. Es freut mich sehr, dass wir die Möglichkeit haben, so miteinander zu kommunizieren (I am very pleased that we have the opportunity to communicate with each other like this),” Y/n replied, trying to keep her nerves in check.

“Please, call us Toto and Susie,” Toto said, his tone friendly and welcoming. “We’ve read through your application and were very impressed. Why don’t you tell us a bit more about yourself?”

Y/n began to explain her background in Media Design, her passion for working with children, and how she believed her creative skills would be beneficial in engaging and educating their son, Jack. She also mentioned her bilingual abilities and her experience growing up in Stuttgart.

Susie nodded thoughtfully. “We think your background is quite unique and would bring a fresh perspective to Jack’s upbringing. How do you feel about traveling frequently and adapting to different environments?”

“I’m very excited about the opportunity to travel,” Y/n said. “I think it would be an amazing experience for both Jack and me. I’m adaptable and eager to learn about new cultures and environments. Traveling has always been a passion of mine, although I haven’t had the opportunity to see and learn as much as I would like to until now.”

Toto leaned forward slightly. “One thing to consider is the nature of our lifestyle. It can be fast-paced and demanding. How comfortable are you with managing stress and maintaining flexibility?”

“I’m confident in my ability to handle stress and stay organized,” Y/n replied. “My studies and previous nanny jobs have taught me how to manage my time effectively and stay calm under pressure. Zudem möchte ich auch nochmal anführen, dass ich eben deutsch bin. Es liegt mir also eigentlich im Blut immer pünktlich zu sein und mein Leben gut zu managen. (I would also like to mention again that I am German. So it's actually in my blood to always be punctual and to manage my life well.)”

The last part was meant as a joke, but Toto and Susie knew she fully meant it.

Y/N paused before she asked a question she was eager to get an answer to. “I am very sorry to tell you I don’t really know about your work background and I was not comfortable googling the both of you so if you don’t mind what exactly do you do? Also, you spoke about traveling how often would that be and when would you like to have Jack with you guys?” It was a long question but she was confident they would answer her fully.

Susie and Toto exchanged a quick glance, their smiles warm and understanding. They appreciated her directness and respect for their privacy.

Susie spoke first, her tone friendly. "No worries at all, Y/n. I’m a former racing driver and currently the CEO of ROKiT Venturi Racing in Formula E. My role involves overseeing the team’s operations, strategy, and ensuring we’re competitive in the championship. It’s a dynamic and demanding job, but one I’m very passionate about."

Toto nodded, adding with a hint of enthusiasm, "And I’m the team principal and CEO of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula One Team. It’s an intense job, managing the team and ensuring we perform at our best during the racing season. So, as you can imagine, our schedules can be quite demanding and involve a fair bit of travel."

Susie continued, "Regarding travel, we do move around quite a bit, especially during the racing season, which runs from March to December. There are races almost every other week, and they happen all over the world. We'd love to have Jack with us during these travels, but it depends on the location and the duration of our stay."

Toto chimed in, "Ideally, we'd like him to join us for the major races and during the summer break when the schedule is a bit lighter. It's important to us that he experiences different cultures and environments, but we also want to ensure he has stability in his education and routine. We’re looking for someone who can help maintain that balance for him."

Susie nodded, "Exactly. We want Jack to feel secure and supported, no matter where we are. Your role would be crucial in providing that stability while also making the experience enjoyable and enriching for him."

Y/n listened carefully, nodding as Susie and Toto explained their busy schedules and travel needs. When they finished, she smiled confidently, ready to reassure them of her capabilities.

"Thank you both for sharing that with me. Your careers sound incredibly exciting and demanding, and I can see how important it is to you that Jack has stability amidst all the travel."

She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "I have extensive experience working with children in various environments, including situations where parents have high-profile, busy careers. I understand the importance of creating a stable, nurturing environment for Jack, no matter where we are. I am skilled at maintaining routines and providing the educational support he needs to thrive."

Y/n continued, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m very adaptable and have handled travel with families before. I’m organized and proactive, ensuring that everything Jack needs is prepared and that he feels secure and happy in each new location. I also love finding creative ways to make travel educational and fun for children, turning each new place into a learning opportunity."

She smiled warmly, looking between Susie and Toto. "I’m confident that I can provide the balance you’re looking for—supporting Jack’s growth and education while also making sure he enjoys the unique experiences your lifestyle offers. I’m excited about the possibility of being a part of your family and contributing to Jack’s development in such a dynamic and enriching environment. That of course is if you would have me.” She smiles at them.

After a few more questions about her approach to childcare and her thoughts on integrating educational activities with play, the interview began to wrap up.

“We’re very impressed with you, Y/n,” Susie said, glancing at Toto, who nodded in agreement. “We think you’d be a wonderful fit for our family.”

Y/n’s heart soared. “Thank you so much. I’m really excited about the possibility of working with you and getting to know Jack.”

“We’ll be in touch soon with more details,” Toto said, smiling. “Thank you for your time today.”

As the call ended, Y/n felt a rush of exhilaration. The interview had gone better than she could have imagined, and she felt a sense of validation in her choices and aspirations. The Wolff family represented a new path, one filled with opportunities for growth, adventure, and meaningful connections.

Two days later, Y/n received another email from the Wolffs.

______________________________________________________________

Dear Y/n,

We are thrilled to inform you that after careful consideration, we would like to offer you the position of nanny for our son, Jack. We believe that your skills, experience, and personality make you the perfect fit for our family, and we are excited about the prospect of having you join us.

As mentioned during the interview process, we would like to start with a trial period to ensure that there is a good connection between all of us. Therefore, we propose a trial run of three months, during which we can assess how well we work together and whether this arrangement meets everyone's needs.

We are genuinely excited to welcome you into the Wolff family. We believe that your background in Media Design, your bilingual abilities, and your passion for childcare will make a positive impact on Jack's life and development. We are confident that you will create a nurturing and stimulating environment for him, allowing him to thrive and grow.

Regarding logistics, we understand that relocating to Monaco is a significant step, and we want to make the transition as smooth as possible for you. If you are able to join us by the 1st of February, it would give us ample time to settle in and get acquainted before the busy racing season begins.

Please let us know if you have any questions or concerns. We are here to support you and ensure that you have all the information you need.

Once again, congratulations, Y/n. We are looking forward to embarking on this exciting journey together.

Warm regards,

Toto and Susie Wolff

______________________________________________________________

As Y/n sat amidst the flurry of emotions, her mind drifted to the impressions she had formed of Toto and Susie Wolff during the interview process. Toto, with his focused demeanor and stern yet approachable presence, exuded a sense of determination and drive that commanded respect. She couldn't help but admire his unwavering commitment to excellence, balanced by an underlying charm that shone through in the occasional dad joke or lighthearted quip.

In contrast, Susie embodied elegance and grace in every aspect of her being. Y/n admired the way Susie carried herself with poise and sophistication, radiating warmth and sincerity in her interactions. Behind her poised exterior, Y/n sensed a deep well of motivation, care, and love for others, driven by her passion for making a positive impact in the world.

As Y/n pondered these thoughts, she felt a sense of gratitude wash over her. To be welcomed into the lives of such remarkable individuals, to work alongside them in nurturing and shaping the life of their son, Jack, was an honor beyond measure. She knew that under their guidance and with their support, she would not only thrive but also contribute to creating a loving and enriching environment for Jack to grow and flourish.

With a renewed sense of purpose and excitement, Y/n turned her attention back to the task at hand—preparing for the journey ahead. As she packed her belongings, her heart swelled with anticipation for the adventures that awaited her in Monaco, where she would embark on a new chapter of her life filled with love, laughter, and endless possibilities.

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

@pand-de-pandora-blog @wonderwolffs @laura-naruto-fan1998 @strangegirl974 @totothewolff

[inbarfink]

So when I wrote down that Big Undertale Meta Post about how Sans probably doesn’t remember RESETs at all and why that’s cool - I got a lot of responses to the tune of ‘that’s probably canon but I’m still gonna enjoy Sans Remember fics because of the angst’. And, well... first I want to emphasize that those are very good and correct responses! Like ‘I acknowledge might or might not be in the text but I am also gonna explore alternative ideas Because I Enjoy Them’ is a Good Damn Position to have! Transformative Fandom is Transformative on purpose! Engage with the text and it’s various analyses but don’t let it chain your creativity or fun!

It’s just that… all of the people saying that they prefer Sans Remembering ‘for the Angst’ make me think that maybe folks are kinda ignoring the incredible angst potential of Sans NOT remembering.

My original post focused on how cool it is that Sans manages to be so on-top-of-things even though he doesn’t remember anything - but let’s not ignore the fact that this situation is also grim as shit.

Through some mysterious super-science or whatever, Sans has managed to discover that his timeline is being RESET and altered constantly (before the Player came along, Flowey had already managed to basically 100% the entire Underground) and he has no memory of what's going on and what exactly is being altered. 

He knows he might’ve gone through the same day over and over and over again thousand times but he’s simply not aware of it. It’s all the helplessness and lack of forward momentum of a classic timeloop and none of the benefits of memorizing occurrences or acquiring extra information. That’s exactly the thing that drove him into his depressive spiral.

That line always strikes me. It’s like… Sans suspects that without the meddling of capricious immortal time gods, he’d be a much happier and motivated person. But he doesn’t know for sure, because he can’t remember how he was in some distant ‘original timeline’. He is essentially fighting to avenge a version of himself that might not even be real.

Like, yes, it is very impressive and badass how well Sans trained himself to notice every tiny little hint that might indicate that a RESET happened - but it’s impressive because the deck is stacked so heavily against him. And it is very impressive and badass how Sans managed to turn his weaknesses into strengths during his Boss Battle - but it’s impressive because these are usually huge weaknesses. Trying to work to solve a timeloop that you can only infer is going on through context clues is quite a hopeless and desperate mission!

Another bit in the Sans fight that I often think about is his unique reaction if you kill him and then RESET to Fight him again.

With how skilled he is at reading expressions, Sans probably knows what that ‘weird expression’ means, he knows the Player killed him once before and is here to try again. And yet he still goes along with the same attack plan he has, the one he knows killed him in that previous timeline. Why? Because he doesn’t know where the flaw in his plan was exactly, he can’t even begin to guess. So he has no choice but to go along with the plan he knows did kill him, because that’s the only thing he has. 

You know, the thing about Sans, is that he always plays his cards very close to his chest. It’s very hard to tell what exactly he’s thinking. That’s probably why so many people do believe he remembers RESET. If any non-Flowey character remembered RESETs, only Sans would be remotely able to hide it so well. But for me? It makes me wonder how much of his Troll who Knows Too Much persona is a bit of an act as well. 

You know, Sans’ deduction requires some keen observational skills - does he ever second-guess his conclusions? Living on constant high-alert that something has been reversed or that someone knows something they shouldn’t requires fostering a lot of paranoia, and that can’t be healthy for him. Is he ever overcome with doubt on whatever something was really an indication of a timeline RESET or not? How does he feel when he realizes something horrible happened on a previous timeline (for example, his brother dying) but he doesn’t know about the context to feel sure that he can stop it from happening again? 

I also think about it in terms of his relationship to Papyrus in general. Sans tends to hide so many things from Papyrus, especially in timelines where the Player is particularly kill-happy...

In part it’s about his perception that Papyrus’ kindness and pacifism is born from naïveté and thus the only way to preserve it is to hide the cruelty and harshness of the world from him (Undyne also does that). But also, with the paranoia and helplessness Sans lives in every day - is it any wonder that he might believe that ignorance is bliss?

I do truly think it’s beautiful how fandom can experiment with cool non-canon ideas! There are probably so many great emotional angsty ideas tied up to Sans remembering RESETs! I just feel it’ll be a shame if people ignore just how dire and depressing Sans’ canon situation also is!

[mysterycitrus]

Your opinions are sooo correct & sexy! I wanna know what you think about the switch of Roy being Dick's friend to (primarily) Jason's friend. Like in terms of both canon & fanon

(no pressure to answer though, just curious!)

ive talked about this before, so im not being facetious when i say that i don’t think there is anything remotely salvageable in the jason+roy relationship. i hate it.

when u consider current comic canon (that’s more or less tepidly reverted to post-crisis, pre-2011 canon), there is literally no reason why a freshly single father would be besties with his actual best friend’s 12yo brother. it’s profoundly unserious. even removing dick from the equation, in what world would roy be closer to jason than he is to ollie or donna or dinah or wally or jade or connor or mia or grant or vic or grace or literally any of the other titans?

i truly don’t think fans who like their relationship in that capacity care about roy, his history as a character, or his characterisation, because he is reduced to a demeaning, dehumanised depiction of any addict that is so totally divorced from his previous runs. how can u look at the roy harper that exists in rhato canon and not feel insulted that lobdell removed his family, his culture, his teammates, and his daughter in favour of making him swoon over jason? how is this a remotely egalitarian relationship when he exists to facilitate jason’s development and nothing else? how is roy treated with any respect by these fans?

the spiralling fanon vortex pulls everyone around roy in and ruins them by association. think about how unkind these interpretations of ollie are, or jade, or dick. how the actual important people in roy’s life, who love him and lian, are demonised to make room for jason. how unsympathetic the writing is to addicts, and how roy’s own addiction is switched as if different substances are interchangeable? how can u seriously engage with stories about sexual assault that posit roy as a slut-shaming, immature asshole who would seriously blame anyone for their own assault? it makes me so angry.

that’s even ignoring that roy would objectively not be cool with the things jason does, whether it be dealing, murdering people, or attacking roy’s own sister. roy has a moral backbone and isn’t afraid to be loud about it. there’s never been a team he was on pre-reboot where he hadn’t spoken up against shitty leadership or bad decisions — especially with dick. the difference in respect between dick and jason, where roy is allowed to be an adult with the titans and the outsiders and the league but is the team pet of the outlaws who can’t advocate for himself, is very stark.

it’s literally like if they decided to change kon to be damian’s best friend instead of tim’s, ignoring the age difference and their history together and any pre existing relationships. that’s how absurd the change was. that’s how much kon would have to be mischaracterised in order for that relationship to “work.”

jason could exist as an interesting contrast to roy, the same way he does to dick, but that would rely on roy being written well. it would have to mean they weren’t friends, that they weren’t close, and that jason wasn’t an actual part of his life, because that’s the only way they could exist together without roy being thrown on the fire to keep jason warm.

[risswirly]

Silent Sparks

SYNOPSIS: You and Warren are having a movie night but things get a little awkward when you wonder if your feelings are reciprocated or not GENRE: fluff NOTE: First time writing!!! Sorry there's barely any dialogue I kinda wanted the tension to feel unspoken if ykwim WORD COUNT: 1.4k

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Warren thoughtfully shuffles through his CD collection, gazing upon each film and thinking it over in his mind for a moment before moving on to the next as if his selection holds great significance for your movie night, despite the fact it was now a common occurrence. Your room was lit dimly, illuminated only by the ambient warm glow of a lamp and the TV screen waiting for a disk to be inserted. Huddled under the warmth of your blankets you wait patiently for him to pick which movie the two of you would watch this time.

He brings a hand to his chin thinking hard "Hmm lets goo... Scott Pilgrim!" he finally picks with a pleased grin, taking the disk out of its case and into the DVD player. You scoff lightly "All that thinking for a movie we've already watched a million times?" you look back at him with a raised eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips amused by his choice. He quickly grabs the remote before joining you on your bed huddling under your blankets excitedly. He climbs into the space next to you and you feel his side press against yours as he shuffles around finding a comfortable position. "What can I say, I'm a sucker for Edgar Write's directing" he replies with a shrug, "You act as if this isn't one of your favourite movies too" he adds teasingly, the grin on his face unwavering. You roll your eyes shaking your head lightly, unable to argue with his choice. 

As the movie begins you huddle up into him, gently resting against him with your head on the side of his shoulder. After almost a year of being friends you were at a point in your friendship where physical intimacy no longer felt awkward or uncertain, although it never went anything beyond quick greeting hugs or leaning on each other it still managed to make your heart beat just that little bit faster making you wonder if it meant more than you knew it did. 

As you bring yourself closer to warrens side he carefully wraps his arm around you resting his hand on your opposite shoulder. you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and thank god he's too focused on the opening credits to notice how red you've become. 

Eyes glued to the film his hand begins to fidget, slowly he starts to mindlessly play with the ends of your hair, twirling it around, delicately folding it through his fingers. You curse to yourself in your mind reminding yourself this probably meant nothing and take a deep breath, doing your best not to alert him, trying to focus on the movie once more and stop the out of control fluttering in your stomach. 

Eventually you're able to engage with the movie, your heart rate accustoming to the close proximity. As the narrative plays the two of you laugh and make comments here and there about the plot and characters 

"what do you mean Envy is the best ex? She isn't even in the league of evil exes, she doesn't count!" Warren argues against your comment about the best villain, trying not to let his smile peek through his serious expression. "Look she had a cool ass song ensemble and is hot as hell aaannd technically she's Scott's ex, so she counts" You retort back with a smug look on your face. Warren peers down at you, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed attempting to look menacing... or angry? You couldn't really tell considering he was just about the least intimidating nerd on the planet. Looking at his grumpy expression you burst out into laughter at how silly he looks trying to act mad. While he tries to keep the act up he fails to stop the grin tugging at his lips.

As you laugh you cant help but feel comfortable in his presence. You watch as his eyes gaze over your face, melting into a soft smile, amused as you giggle at him. this felt right, being with him just made everything feel so easy. 

In your laughter, you begin to shuffle around again readjusting your posture, sinking deeper into the couch. As you settle into your new spot, without thinking you gently snake your arm around Warren's abdomen holding him by his waist under the blanket. You don't realise how intimate your actions are until you hear his sharp breath and feel the sensation of his warm skin on your cold fingertips where his shirt had risen slightly. You feel his inhale under your arm resting on his stomach and sit completely frozen in shock for a moment before regaining your senses and quickly retreating your arm. 

He holds his breath in for a second, taken aback. "oh um" he mutters quietly after a moment. You sit upright, eyes wide, startled by your own impulsive actions. "I- Im so sorry. I didn't mean to..." you stammer, unsure of what to say. You look at his face and see his own eyes are wide, a mix of emotions splayed out over his features. flustered? confused? uncomfortable? Each looking like the other in an unreadable blur. 

"I wasn't thinking, sorry" You explain, finally getting the words out cohesively looking down at your lap unable to meet his gaze. You shuffle away slightly hoping that the distance would make him feel less uncomfortable, that is.. if he was uncomfortable.? maybe he didn't mind it? God, what were you even thinking!. "no no, its okay, really" he replies hurriedly sitting upright. 

You turn your head back to the movie and sit limply with your hands resting on either said of your lap on top of the blanket. Somehow feeling colder with the unusual distance between the two of you. Although your eyes were fixated on the screen the film was the last thing on your mind, repeatedly replaying the last minute in your head over an over. 

Warren returns his eyes to the movie as well, brows furrowed as he questions what just happened. He glances at you pensively gently nibbling on his bottom lip deep in thought unable to shake the weight in his stomach. 

He sits completely still for a minute, then slowly, without taking his eyes off the tv screen, lifts his arms over the blanket resting them at his sides. Even though the action is small his heart races uncontrollably as he gathers all his courage.

As you continue to space out, regretting every decision you've ever made, you notice in the corner of your peripheral the smallest of movements. Turning your head slightly towards Warren curiously you're able to see what it is.

Silently, eyes still glued to the screen, he inches his hand ever so slowly toward your own. Little by little his fingers glide over the blanket reaching for the warmth of your skin again. You look up at his face trying to gauge his emotions as your heart quickens. You notice the pink tint in his cheeks and his ragged breathing, similar to your own. 

Slowly, you also begin to move your fingers towards his, heart racing. Your pinkies graze each other ever so lightly but it's enough to send electricity through your whole body. However, he doesn't stop there, you sit still as his fingers explore your hand, delicately tracing over your knuckles and nails. You turn over your hand so your palm is exposed and you hear Warren shakily exhale before he intertwines his fingers with yours. You smile silently to yourself as you feel his warm skin against yours and as he rubs his thumb against the side of your hand you mentally note just how soft his touch is.

Feeling a rush of adrenaline and excitement you decide to be brave and shuffle closer to him until your sides are pressed together and you snuggle deeper under the covers. Using the hand that Warren isn't holding tenderly, you warp your arm around his abdomen, resting your head on his chest, your heart beating out of your own worrying that maybe you had misinterpreted the situation.

You glance up at Warren's face hoping to see what hes feeling in his expression. All your worries quickly dissolve when you see the wide, dorky grin plastered proudly on Warren's face. He looks back down at you giggling giddily, cheeks ablaze. "what?" he chuckles. You smile back at him tenderly, feeling yourself melt into him "You're an idiot" you snicker, turning your head back to the movie, your heart feels light in your chest and you think it may burst at any moment if he keeps looking at you like this. "Shut up" is all he says back before gently leaning his head, resting it on yours. 

Throughout the rest of the movie, the smile never leaves his face as the two of you cuddle together in your dorm. Warren, that dork. What in the world were you going to do with him.

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[tangibletechnomancy]

Neural Nets, Walled Gardens, and Positive Vibes Only

the crystal spire at the center of the techno-utopian walled garden

Anyone who knows or even just follows me knows that as much as I love neural nets, I'm far from being a fan of AI as a corporate fad. Despite this, I am willing to use big-name fad-chasing tools...sometimes, particularly on a free basis. My reasons for this are twofold:

Many people don't realize this, but these tools are more expensive for the companies to operate than they earn from increased interest in the technology. Using many of these free tools can, in fact, be the opposite of "support" at this time. Corporate AI is dying, use it to kill it faster!

You can't give a full, educated critique of something's flaws and failings without engaging with it yourself, and I fully intend to rip Dall-E 3, or more accurately the companies behind it, a whole new asshole - so I want it to be a fair, nuanced, and most importantly personally informed new asshole.

Now, much has already been said about the biases inherent to current AI models. This isn't a problem exclusive to closed-source corporate models; any model is only as good as its dataset, and it turns out that people across the whole wide internet are...pretty biased. Most major models right now, trained primarily on the English-language internet, present a very western point of view - treating young conventionally attractive white people as a default at best, and presenting blatantly misinformative stereotypes at worst. While awareness of the issue can turn it into a valuable tool to study those biases and how they intertwine, the marketing and hype around AI combined with the popular idea that computers can't possibly be biased tends to make it so they're likely to perpetuate them instead.

This problem only gets magnified when introduced to my mortal enemy-

If I never see this FUCKING dog again it will be too soon-

Content filters.

Theoretically, content filters exist to prevent some of the worst-faith uses of AI - deepfakes, true plagiarism and forgery, sexual exploitation, and more. In practice, many of them block anything that can be remotely construed as potentially sexual, violent, or even negative in any way. Frequently banned subjects include artistic nudity or even partial nudity, fight scenes, anything even remotely adjacent to horror, and still more.

The problems with this expand fractally.

While the belief that AI is capable of supplanting all other art forms, let alone should do so, is...far less widespread among its users than the more reactionary subset of its critics seem to believe (and in fact arguably less common among AI users than non-users in the first place; see again: you cannot give a full, educated critique of something's failings without engaging with it yourself), it's not nonexistent - and the business majors who have rarely if ever engaged with other forms of art, who make up a good percentage of the executives of these companies, often do fall on that side, or at least claim to in order to make more sales (but let's keep the lid on that can of worms for now).

When this ties to existing online censorship issues, such as a billionaire manchild taking over Twitter to "help humanity" (read: boost US far-right voices and promote and/or redefine hate speech), or arcane algorithms on TikTok determining what to boost and deboost leading to proliferation of neologisms to soften and obfuscate "sensitive" subjects (of which "unalive" is frequently considered emblematic), including such horrible, traumatizing things as...the existence of fat people, disabled people, and queer people (where the censorship is claimed to be for their benefit, no less!), the potential impact is apparent: while the end goal is impossible, in part because AI is not, in fact, capable of supplanting all other forms of art, what we're seeing is yet another part of a continuing, ever more aggressive push for sanitizing what kinds of ideas people can express at all, with the law looking to only make it worse rather than better through bills such as KOSA (which you can sign a petition against here).

And just like the other forms of censorship before and alongside it, AI content filtering targets the most vulnerable in society far more readily than it targets those looking to harm them. The filters have no idea what makes something an expression of a marginalized identity vs. what makes it a derogatory statement against that group, or an attempt at creating superficially safe-for-work fetish art - so, they frequently err on the side of removing anything uncertain. Boys in skirts and dresses are frequently blocked, presumably because they're taken for fetish art. Results of prompts about sadness or loneliness are frequently blocked, presumably because they may promote self harm, somehow. In my (admittedly limited) experiment, attempts at generating dark-skinned characters were blocked more frequently than attempts at generating light-skinned ones, presumably because the filter decided that it was racist to [checks notes] ...acknowledge that a character has a different skin tone than the default white characters it wanted to give me. Facial and limb differences are often either erased from results, or blocked presumably on suspicion of "violent content".

But note that I say "presumably" - the error message doesn't say on what grounds the detected images are "unsafe". Users are left only to speculate on what grounds we're being warned.

But what makes censorship of AI generated work even more alarming, in the context of the executive belief that it can render all other art forms obsolete, is that other forms of censorship only target where a person can say such earth-shaking, controversial things as "I am disabled and I like existing" or "I am happy being queer" or "mental health is important" or "I survived a violent crime" - you can be prevented from posting it on TikTok, but not from saying it to a friend next to you, let alone your therapist. AI content filtering, on the other hand, aims to prevent you from expressing it at all.

This becomes particularly alarming when you recall one of the most valuable use cases for AI generation: enabling disabled people to express themselves more clearly, or in new forms. Most people can find other workarounds in the form of more conventional, manual modes of expression, sure, but no amount of desperation can reverse hand paralysis that prevents a person from holding a pen, nor a traumatic brain injury or mental disability that blocks them from speaking or writing in a way that's easy to understand. And who is one of the most frequently censored groups? Disabled people.

So, my question to Bing and OpenAI is this: in what FUCKING universe is banning me from expressing my very existence "protecting" me?

Bad dog! Stop breaking my shit and get the FUCK out of my way!

Generated as a gift for a friend who was even more frustrated with that FUCKING dog than I was

All images - except the FUCKING dog - generated with Dall-E 3 via Bing Image Creator, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

[multifandumbmeg]

Alright SCREW IT here's my Kiara defense post:

Is it annoying to watch get paired off with everyone in the main cast? Sure. Let me explain why that's not a character flaw or terrible, unplanned writing so yall can put some respect on her name.

1. They're ALL in love with her, and literally throwing themselves at her all the time. This is so important and well-documented that John B literally tells us IN HIS INTRODUCTION TO THE GROUP in episode one. It is literally so relevant to their entire group dynamic that he brings it up in the first episode summary of who they all are. Guys actually do this I have seen this happen. One of my high school best friends was constantly manic pixie dream girled (despite being profoundly depressed) and several entire friend groups of boys fell in love with her. She dated one guy, who was a piece of shit and dumped her saying it was because of his parents but told his friends it was because she had too much baggage. The fallout was so bad, one guy from one of the friend groups tattled to her and a different guy, who was best friends with the douche, literally got into a fight with him and THE DOUCHE HAD TO CHANGE FRIEND GROUPS BECAUSE HIS BOYS KICKED HIM OUT. I'm serious about these teenage boys all having the same taste and thinking it's a competition.

2. John B kissed HER. She immediately shut him down. Immediately. Everything before that can easily be explained as Kiara being concerned about him after losing his father. Teenage boys are dumb anyhow, but it's particularly easy to see why John B and JJ, who have both been routinely neglected and grew up without mothers (read, any positive female attention/influence) would interpret this as Kiara having feelings for them. They fall in love with anyone who sincerely gives them the time of day, basically. And that's a little too relatable moving on.

3. "Mixed signals" by kissing boys on the cheek. While I would not recommend this, I think there was a very clear pattern to her behavior and I have a theory I'm 99% sure is canon, based on copious textual evidence.

Kiara was in love with JJ all along. I'll come back to this. She only kissed the boys she friendzoned on the cheek. With John B, I genuinely think she never had any sort of romantic feelings for him and just saw him as a best bro. But she was worried about him, and maybe realized he listened to her more when she did it. Nonetheless, the minute he gets with Sarah it's almost like she feels relieved and never does anything remotely mixed signals to him again. Now Pope? That is a rich text. What the hell is going on with her and Pope?

4. When Pope first confesses, Kiara is once again caught off-guard. She once again rightfully turns him down IMMEDIATELY and gives extremely accurate and self-aware reasons. Her rejection of him is surprisingly mature, that the life he plans on and wants is ultimately and assuredly not compatible with what she wants for herself. So why did she kinda date him? Honestly, I think it was an attempt to move on from what she believed were doomed feelings for JJ. After all the things that happen in season 1, after Pope going off the deep end a little bit by smoking weed, getting drunk, and engaging in acts of violence, as well as ditching his scholarship interview, Kiara suddenly experiences a spark of attraction towards Pope.

Because he's acting like JJ. Reckless. Using substances to cope. Chaotic. Spontaneous. She knows these things are bad for Pope, and she's at times put off by how un-Pope-like they are as his friend, but she has a type. So following a moment of attraction and the sudden supposed loss of John B (and Sarah), she decides to give it a go. Maybe Pope's different after everything that happened. And he is, but not quite the way she was expecting. To link this back to the cheek-kissing thing, honestly, I think Kiara lowkey has the ick 😂. She consistently shoves any of the boys who try to touch her at all away except for JJ, the entire series mind you, except for these little cheek kisses like that's all she can manage to do. She kisses Pope like twice and ends up sleeping with him, at which point she realizes she just can't do it. She's not consistently attracted to her, and she can't get past her feelings for JJ, so she calls it off. Again, that's a fair healthy, and kind thing to do. When you realize it's not going to work, especially if you have feelings for someone else, it is distinctly NOT dragging people around to cut it off. If Kie has a real problem, honestly? I think it's that ultimately she wants a man she can fix. And Pope's fine. So that's him out.

My proof that the writers absolutely intended Kiara to have feelings for JJ from day one:

"Did you tell JJ?" specifically. Just JJ. She doesn't want HIM to think she's taken.

Shoving away John B and Pope every time they try to hug her or put an arm around her etc. Letting JJ hug her, take her hand, sling his arm around her etc. She also goes out of her way to touch him by taking his arm, holding him when he's crying, hugging him several times and then almost kissing him. So in a way, I'd very much like you to consider, Kiara was not in fact sending everyone mixed signals, her problem was that she was so consistent. Consistently attracted to and in love with someone she thought had no real interest in her. JJ flirts with her jokingly, and from episode 1 and the convo in the bell tower between John B and Sarah, we know that he's a horny little dude. And that's not surprising either, because people who've been abused tend to go one way or the other- either very physical touch-seeking in an attempt to balance about the bad, or very touch-avoidant. JJ is clearly, demonstably in column A. Not just with Kiara, but he also initiates hugs with John B and Pope, touches their faces, and even kisses Pope on the cheek once. He's clearly a very touchy person with everyone, so I can see how Kiara would be unsure about his feelings when he very much does not communicate his wants or needs with words.

Finally, the proof that Kiara had feelings for JJ, and that Jiara was the direction the show was headed, was in their conversation in thr storage container. When JJ tells her what he wants from life and plans to do with the money, it's a direct parallel to her initial reject of Pope. He wants to travel the world and be spontaneous and non-sedentary and have no use for money. Everything she said to Pope and is always trying to explain to her parents. That was 0% accidental, that was the writers making it clear: these two are a match, they're compatible on a much deeper level.

4. So if they always planned on JJ and Kiara, why didn't those two just get together to start? The answer, my friends, is jealousyy. This is a common tactic in writing to get a couple together: force the reluctant one to acknowledge their feelings by putting the other in a relationship with someone else. Im short: every moment between Kiara and John B or Pope was to show us JJ did not like that and therefore that his feelings for Kiara were serious, unlike how she interpreted them and him being a flirty himbo with other girls. It also helped Kiara realize she wasn't getting over him any time soon, and that she couldn't avoid her feelings either. So it forced them both to give up and acknowledge to themselves that they had feelings for the other.

5. "Teenage girls don't act like her" JOKES. This is the dumbest argument I've seen, I'm sorry. I'm happy you have met such well-adjusted teenage girls but buddy... I have known some teenage girls and people who used to identify as girls at that age who would make you roll over in your grave. Some people don't know what they want, some people desperately crave attention, some people just can't seem to avoid drama or make good choices and sometimes that's even a resulted of untreated disabilities or mental illness. Sometimes it's all of the above. My point is absolutely there are teenage girls who act like Kiara and faaar worse.

6. Lastly, why not John B or Pope? Why was Kiara totally valid for not liking them romantically? Well feelings are feelings so she's valid anyways but can we talk about them both touching her/making moves at inappropriate times without consent?? It's understandable she likes JJ and feels the safest around him when he's the only who doesn't act like he wants or expects anything from her. He never kisses her without consent, let alone while running from the cops randomly. He never tries to put his arm around her or make a move in the middle of them having an emotionally intimate conversation where she is clearly seeking emotional comfort. I'm not saying John B or Pope are bad people, but with Kiara both showed a lot of immaturity and failed to read the room numerous times. They acted whenever they personally felt attraction, regardless of where she was at at the time. There's such a thing as reading body signals, and the only times JJ comes close to making an actual move on Kiara is when she comes to him, gets close to his face and leans in. In the end, he only kisses her after she looks him dead in the eyes and tells him I LOVE YOU. That's on respect. Also, John B and Pope both get their shit together and learn this with their next girlfriends! So good on them!

But Kiara confessed to JJ at a random time too! I hear you shouting. NAY. Incorrect!! JJ is actively avoiding her and having a mature conversation about how they feel about each other, and also the fact that he stole from her family, and that is on HIM. That is a result of his issues and his fear and poor coping mechanisms. Kiara forced him to address it at an inopportune time because she already attempt to address it privately TWICE and he wouldn't let her. So all she did there was clear the air and make her own feelings known, which he needed to hear. That is the last conversation they have before he attempts to apologize and confess back. That is what convinces him that Kiara's feelings for him are both genuine and serious, and that no amount of pushing her away will succeed. She loves him unconditionally, which he did not know was possible until then.

So in short!! Kiara actually behaves like a real human being. She's not crazy, extremely selfish, nor an example of writers just testing out the waters and seeing what the fans want or who has the most chemistry. She is very consistent. The only thing I can really begrudge about her behavior towards her friends (her parents are a different story) is that she's insensitive to both John B and Pope after rejecting them, which I believe is because she doesn't realize they had actual feelings for her so much as thinking she's hot.

[kevin-the-bruyne]

The 25th hour and the kindness Boston unwittingly pays forward to Sand

The 25th hour is such a neat yet complex concept. The fact that Sand's episode is called 'The Extra Hour' and that this extremely rigid, disciplined man's 25th hour is Ray is at once heartwarming and gut wrenching. I've seen multiple people discuss what the 25th hour is and most interpretations were to my surprise very positive! In fact, when I think back to my reaction to the start of the episode I thought it was delightful! What a delightfully irrational way for Sand to think of Ray's role in his life, for a delightfully irrational man who really needs a little bit of magic and fairy tale in his life. And yet by the end no matter how you slice it, the only thing about the 25th hour that stays absolute till the end is that it's not real. There's no such thing as a 25th hour. Whatever was happening between them was happening entirely within the 24 hours of their lives and neither were able admit to it. There is a separate meta to be written about how there are elements of healing in their relationship - definitely for Ray and maybe even for Sand who benefits from being near someone who prescribes to whatever the opposite of his 'The Grind and Hustle' lifestyle is. But there are two sides to every coin and the side that Sand had completely blinded himself to even thought it was all right there - long before Boston showed up - is that Ray is an addict. And the way Ray chases the pleasure impulse of Sand's company is - more than just a little mildly concerning. Both times that they engage in anything sexual is Sand giving and Ray receiving, but more importantly Ray talking Sand into it - not in any way that is even remotely close to coercive but doesn't it niggle at the back of your head a little - just how good Ray is at getting Sand to do things for him? I could let the list run from protecting him, cooking for him, driving him, putting on his helmet for him, dressing him, taking him to concerts all such wonderful beautiful, heartwarming, wounded inner child healing things and yet...there are patterns. 'Thank you for saving my life' once is beautiful, sexy, gut wrenchingly vulnerable. But twice?

The guy did have a bottle so it could have been dangerous and his target could have been Ray's head but he also could have smashed it on a table to scare him, on his back, heck he could have been going for Sand too. Doesn't Ray have a tendency to slightly embellish situations to make himself more sympathetic?

My boy Sand has literally been on the receiving end of it adjfkldshjf. Further, when Sand is aiming to bash the guy's head in turn Ray makes zero moves to stop him. Sand could get into a lot of trouble for intervening here and injuring a random customer while he's not bar security and P'Yo and her boyfriend are the only ones actually concerned about Sand here.

Ray is so turned on by his man going all psycho to protect him (understandable) that his only thought is to fuck him (also very very understandable) but he's just gotten so good at asking for it

Incredibly, incredibly good

And he knows how much Sand eats it up

He knows it turns Sand on, uses it repeatedly in the context of sex. In fact it's the only way we've watched him initiate sex this episode

And worst of all, in the times that Sand doesn't quite take the bait Ray knows how to frame it so that it somehow still becomes Sand's idea, Sand's initiative:

And this scene is so mind bogglingly sexy that I was legit SCREAMING because Ray is being SO sneaky and he's an addict and you can see it from a mile away and imagine being Sand and horny and turned on by how much people need you and then having the cutest puppy of a man constantly wagging his tail at you and needing you and being so generous about how much he appreciates you and constantly telling you how big and strong you are and how you're such a great protector like help this man he is so entirely caught in the web that Ray is spinning. I was so into it but I was also like alarm bells ringing like 'Fire! Fire! Fire!' Sand this is exactly the fire that you were once conscious of playing with but he's totally been blinded to it - how could he not be??? Ray is an addict but he's also a creature made entirely of love, what defenses can Sand possibly have against Ray's innocence and sincerity? This has already gotten so long that I need to stop here or my mind will explode but there's more to be said here about how that scene where Boston outs Ray's crush plays out and Ray's complete inability to reach out and comfort Sand. What I can end this part with is that - Sand really, really needed to hear it. Boston's whole 'Sand deserves to know' thing might have been the shittiest cover to his real motivations of just totally fucking up Ray's life but he's not wrong about this. Boston is not wrong about the farce of Sand and Ray's relationship that he so mercilessly calls out. The 25th hour isn't real and Sand knows it. The show is very heavy handed about it and it fits so goddamn well with my Sand and Mew don't exist on the same paradigm of Ray's life idea that I have been peddling since Ep2

[self-loving-vampire]

That medium post is highlighting just how fucked people get when they treat gender norms like a Serious Thing you must abide by. Like, what?

1- "A weak thing really wanting to be strong is pathetic" is the kind of thing that is like... who is even saying that?

The virtue of wanting to become stronger (be it for altruistic reasons or even just to master your art) no matter how pitiful your starting position is seems to be something that repeatedly comes up in fiction.

It's not just shonen training arcs to help you overcome someone who outclasses you in every way but also things the RPG journey of starting out at level 1 barely knowing your left from your right and becoming strong enough to kill god at the end.

In fact, this is what makes games like Gothic and Dark Souls so appealing. You start out so weak that everything obliterates you in one or two hits and you're pretty much just another doomed soul in a horrible situation, but if you persevere you can overcome anything.

Maybe stop thinking of strength or weakness as something inherent to gender rather than something you need to cultivate through training and experience? Sure there's geniuses like me who get a huge experience multiplier but that's not gendered either.

2- Boys 100% do cry. They often get beat up for it because they're not supposed to cry, but they still do it regardless of how things are "supposed" to be. Because humans are humans and extremely few people naturally fit the platonic ideal of what their gender is supposed to be at all times. Crying is not exclusively a "girl" thing, and it has nothing to do with weakness, bravery, or intelligence.

See, the thing is that the people who actually get good at video games are usually people who enjoy playing video games and do it on their own rather than just when they pick up something they have never done before in an effort to get validation while being anxious the whole time because they arbitrarily decided that video games are "boy things".

You're not just missing out on the confidence buff but also jumping into a mid-game area before finishing the tutorial. What did you think was going to happen?

"Fantasy story where a woman is doing cool stuff" is like... not even abnormal if you ever engage with anything outside the absolute most mainstream of media. Maybe it won't feel so shameful if you realize it has been done extremely well countless times before.

Also gendering romance seems like a mistake as well. Like, from the exact same story as the above image:

Yeah, it turns out stories can have both romance and women doing cool things and mature, non-sexist men will not necessarily hate either of those aspects.

I'm one of those people who got physical abuse to transition to mainly just threats by fighting back, and you know what that was actually like?

I never was even remotely as strong as big as my father was. I'm 170 cm and grew up malnourished (about 100-110 lbs before I left). I eventually also developed a major disability. Meanwhile he was huge and has literally killed people before. Most of those teens who fought back against their abusive dads? They probably were still physically weaker than said dads too.

But none of that matters, because you don't need to actually win, you just need to show your will to fight. You need to make it clear that there's going to be serious costs if they are violent towards you, and even children who haven't gone through puberty at all are capable of doing that if they give zero fucks.

Even an unarmed 10-year-old who was truly willing to do so is capable of causing lasting harm to an adult. I don't blame anyone for not trying something like that themselves since most people don't want to harm their parents and are averse to pain, but it's definitely dumb to make it into a gender thing that is just impossible without a specific type of puberty.

Also I should note that in a lot of cases this doesn't make the abuse stop entirely. It didn't in my case.

This is literally just applying that one comic to yourself.

Hope you're sitting down for the next bit:

Playing cool video games is the modern day equivalent of fighting war??? How does that even occur to you? Video games are literally entertainment. More like reading books or playing sports than killing people for real.

Also like, war still exists? That's kind of a big thing that is going on right now. War exists and people are fighting it. If this person grew up in the US then their country has been at war in some capacity for the vast majority of its existence. The modern day equivalent of war is war, and war is not actually cool or respectable like gaming is.

Putting up a bright billboard that reads "You know you don't have to be like that just because of your gender, right?"

Like, who cares if the other women you know personally only improve their skills for the sake of dress-up and horses? Do you not have things you want to do? I don't know what to say other than that this reads like NPC behavior.

Tip: You can be a man if you want, but also that probably won't give you instant competence or respect like you think it will. You're still going to have to Get Good at whatever it is you want to do.

So the kind of person who tries to fake an interest in "boy things" in a completely half-assed and insecure way actually exists and has terminal gender essentialist brain. I see.

I do think that's kind of shameful not just for the essentialist garbage but also in the sense that it reads like someone who is too invested in trying to insincerely impress others at the cost of their own individuality and pursuits.

If you're going to be taking right-wing types seriously then maybe you should at least notice that they also don't seem to respect tradwife types at all. They want to own them, sure, but they don't respect them. Attraction is not respect. Those people just don't respect women by default for reasons that are patently bullshit.

This is, from multiple angles, a personal problem. Some of us actually do like video games rather than using them as a way to get respect.

In fact, I'd hate it if people made a big deal out of the fact that I'm a woman who likes video games. That is and should be just a normal, unremarkable thing.

You know, maybe that whole thing where you see yourself as an eternal, inherent weakling not just physically but technically is unhealthy and holding you back from even considering that you could ever be good at anything besides child-rearing and clothes.

Good thing that she rarely feels like this anymore as an adult who is (according to the comments) no longer in a religious cult but this is like... putting my sexist father's thoughts in a self-loathing woman, basically?

[mala-santa-radfem]

i know radical feminism is not a club but again, some of you think u can twist the main ideas of radical feminism and ignore others because you don't like them and expect radical feminists not to question you about it. it shows you've never engaged with anything remotely radical, i suspect you don't even do anything positive for other women. the day you meet an actual radical feminist you're gonna be kicking your feet when they don't listen to anything you have to say. because nothing you say will be of value in genuine radical spaces.

maybe radical feminism is not for you. you don't have to be here.

[samwisethewitch]

In Defense of Fluffy Bunnies, or Witchcraft in Times of Burnout

At the very end of 2023, I used my Christmas bonus from work to buy myself a tarot deck I never would have purchased six months earlier.

This deck was from a creator whose work I had really enjoyed in the past, but when I had looked at it earlier in the year, I'd had concerns that it was softening the meaning of some of the more "difficult" cards in the tarot. For example, The Hanged Man is replaced with "The Patient Witch" and Death is replaced with "The Broom." I'd had concerns that replacing these cards, which are traditionally associated with more dire or upsetting readings, meant the creator was trying to whitewash tarot into something cute and fluffy, sacrificing a lot of its depth in the process.

The deck is The Cozy Witch Tarot by Amanda Lovelace, and I'm so glad I gave it a try. This deck has an incredibly kind and gentle feel, but it is absolutely capable of giving serious readings. The depth of the tarot hasn't been compromised at all by Lovelace's changes, and her version's greater emphasis on agency and personal empowerment is exactly what I need in my practice right now. I use this deck to read for myself almost every day.

So what changed? How did I do a complete 180 in my thoughts on this deck in only a few months?

I've always been very opposed to "love and light" or "fluffy bunny" witchcraft. For those who aren't familiar, these are both terms used online (usually negatively) to describe witches who only do "light" or positive magic. According to the Witchipedia, "Generally, the 'fluffy bunnies' have based their practice on only the most delightful aspects of their spiritual path or romanticized, fictional Hollywood or literary accounts of witchcraft or Wicca." From what I can tell, this term came out of Wiccan Internet forums in the 1990s, and it refers to someone who dons the aesthetics and mythology of Wicca or witchcraft without actually engaging critically with magic theory. Fluffy bunnies also tend to focus on feel-good magic, at least according to stereotypes.

Similarly, "love and light" witches are known for only focusing on the lighthearted side of witchcraft. In an opinion article for The Wild Hunt, Storm Faerywolf writes that, "On the surface it seems harmless enough: a philosophy of love, kindness, non-violence, and a concerted practice of positivity." This type of witchcraft is very closely tied to the "spiritual but not religious" movement and borrows a lot of concepts from New Age spirituality, like crystal healing, the Law of Attraction, and chakras. While fluffy bunnies are very much a product of the 1990s, love and light witches are very much a product of the New Age boom of the 2010s.

I've been very vocal about my dislike for both of these types of witchcraft on this blog in the past, and I still 100% agree with Storm Faerywolf, who says in that same article: "But to assert that pain, and fear, and even anger are somehow less important than our joy, our courage, and even our love, is to do a grave disservice to our collective mental and spiritual health... groups that embrace this mode of thinking have effectively ensured that they can mutually avoid anything that might challenge their cultish mindset. Angry over injustice? You’re just living in a lower vibration. Afraid of contracting a deadly virus? You just don’t trust Jesus enough."

I think accepting and working with challenging emotions is an important part of what it means to be a witch. Spiritual bypassing and cries of "good vibes only" do more harm than good. But for a while I got so caught up in rejecting anything even remotely fluffy or love-and-lightish that I ended up with a magical practice that, to be honest, kind of made me miserable. And I don't think I'm the only one.

I spent a lot of 2022 and 2023 wrestling with injustice, both in my spiritual practice and in my personal and professional life. My practice is inspired by witches like Starhawk and Christy C. Road, and politics play a key role. Most of the spells I did in 2023 fall into the category of justice magic, including breaking family curses and hexing rapists. At the same time, I was working a series of direct services jobs that saw me working closely with homeless teenagers, domestic violence victims, and people battling addiction, just to name a few. And that's not even getting into my personal life and recovery as a queer, disabled survivor of abuse.

And let me tell you: By the end of 2023, I was fucking exhausted. I was beyond burnout. And I didn't even want to do magic anymore, because magic had become just another part of my life where I had to face the injustice and harm happening in the world around me.

I was in desperate need of some fluffiness, some love and light. And that was when I bought the Amanda Lovelace tarot deck.

I knew something had to change. In my burnout, I desperately needed to be tenderly cared for. I needed my spiritual practice to be a source of peace and comfort, not a drain on my energy. I needed to get out of the dark for a bit so I could remember how to see the stars.

What I've realized in the last few months is that yes, anger, pain, and fear are important in a balanced magical practice and a balanced life -- but joy, love, and comfort are equally important. And if you spend a lot of time in one part of your life dealing with pain and fear (like I do in my day job), focusing on love and healing in your witchcraft can help keep things balanced.

"Comfort" and "care" are definitely the keywords for my magical practice right now, and that means my magic looks a lot more fluffy than it has in the past. And that's a good thing.

[venus-haze]

Working for the Knife (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: It’s been over 15 years since the Windsor College murders, not that they had ever been on your radar. That changes when you get hired at a New York marketing firm where you work closely with Mickey Altieri, alleged Ghostface killer whose charges were dropped after a controversial mistrial. Working so closely together piques your interest in each other, soon spiraling out of control. [This is an AU.]

Note: Female reader implied to be mid-20s or older, but no other descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also Timothy Olyphant being such a DILF, I had to write something like this (I had Justified era Olyphant in mind while writing this, specifically these gifsets, but you can picture whatever hehe). Creative liberties have obviously been taken. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: True crime elements (the reader engages with a lot of true crime content), but obviously this is a fictional serial killer. Mutual stalking/obsession. Sexually explicit content that includes dubious consent fantasy that involves knifeplay; spanking, daddy kink, oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

For once, you felt like things were going your way. After a little over three years of scraping by at your old job where you were woefully overworked and underpaid, your months-long job search finally came to an end when a mid-sized marketing firm gave you an offer you couldn’t refuse. Sure, you’d taken a huge pay raise and shifted to a hybrid schedule with your new job, but the highlight was undoubtedly Mickey, the only other person on your small team and the type of sexy older man you sure as hell didn’t mind spending your days in the office with.

With the whole company working hybrid or completely remote, people only came in sporadically, as did you and Mickey, only going in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with the occasional Friday if needed. As a result, you didn’t get much of a chance to meet anyone else who worked there. 

Your first week was fully in person, since some of the programs you’d be using for the job were easier to learn if he were there to show you. You certainly weren’t complaining, having plenty of time to get a feel for your new coworker, silently observing and testing the waters with light flirting, which he seemed to return. Maybe you were just a little too hopeful.

“Big plans for the weekend?” you asked when five o’clock rolled around on Friday.

“Got a hot date with Netflix,” he said. “How about you?”

“My friend and I are getting drinks later, but that’s about it.”

“What’s your poison?”

“Anything under $10, if I can help it.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart. Don’t have too much fun.”

“I’ll try,” you said, smiling as you began packing your laptop into your bag. “Have a good weekend, Mickey.”

“You too.”

With your first week at your new gig down, you headed to a small bar in Flatbush to celebrate with your best friend and dish the highly anticipated dirt on your hot coworker. Lee was already at the bar when you’d arrived, sitting at a small table and sipping a beer she went ahead and bought herself.

“Drinks are on me,” you said. “I fucking owe you.”

Lee grinned. “Always glad to help.”

You wouldn’t have gotten the job without Lee. She helped you fudge your resume to match the experience on the job listing, gently scamming your way into the position you now held. All week you’d been texting her about how great things were going, and fawning over Mickey, of course.

After joking about ordering top-shelf liquor on your dime, Lee settled on a margarita, undoubtedly the first of many for the night. You returned from the bar with your drinks, more than ready to gush about how much better your new job was compared to the hell of your old one. Nothing could bring down your mood.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, they pay you out the ass and you don’t have to worry about health insurance anymore. Great,” Lee said over her margarita. “I wanna hear about your hot DILF coworker. No detail is too small.”

“Lee, oh my god, it’s not even fair how hot he is. Our desks are right next to each other in an L shape, and I feel like such a weirdo for staring at him all the time. He’s been so nice helping me all week, too. Maybe I’m looking too much into it, but sometimes I feel like he’s being a little flirty?”

“Is he married?”

“No ring, and no mention of any family or long-term relationship. I don’t get it, how could Mickey be single?”

“You don’t hear many people going by Mickey anymore,” she said. “Either he’s a mouse or incredibly Irish.”

“I think he’s Italian,” you mused. “Altieri sounds Italian to me.”

Lee’s eyes widened. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wait, was that offensive?”

“No, just that you’re working with an alleged serial killer.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, but she was already busy typing away at her phone.

Suddenly, Lee’s phone was shoved in your face, a your hot coworker’s mugshot front and center in an archived New York Times article from October 1998.

SUSPECT ARRESTED IN WINDSOR COLLEGE KILLINGS

Michael ‘Mickey’ Altieri, 21, was arrested early Thursday morning in Windsor, Ohio, as the primary suspect in the Windsor College killings. Among the charges are first degree murder, attempted first degree murder and aggravated assault. Altieri has maintained his innocence and is being held on $1,000,000 bail in Windsor County Jail as he awaits trial. 

The brutal killings that made national headlines were directly inspired by the ‘Ghostface’ murders in Woodsboro, California, two years prior and coincided with the release of STAB, a film based on Woodsboro survivor and reporter Gale Weathers’ book on the murders. Survivor Sidney Prescott was a student at Windsor College and targeted yet again in the latest string of murders. Allegedly, Altieri’s accomplice was Debbie Loomis, mother of one of the two original Ghostface killers, Billy Loomis. Mrs. Loomis was killed in an altercation prior to Altieri’s apprehension by police.

You looked away from her phone screen, feeling like your head was spinning though you weren’t even finished with your first drink. “Well, if he did all that stuff, why isn’t he on death row or something?”

“There was a mistrial. It was a huge thing,” Lee said. “You’ve seriously never heard of it?”

“No. Can you send that to me?” you asked.

“Yeah, I’ll send some podcast episodes and Youtube videos on it, too. You know I’m on that true crime shit.”

It took a few more drinks for you to be able to shake off the thought of your hot older coworker potentially being a serial killer, but the rest of your night with Lee was a lot of fun. She’d been one of your closest friends in college, and the two of you lived together when you first moved to New York. You knew she meant well, but damn, did that news put a damper on things.

You returned to your apartment a little after midnight, kicking off your heels at the door and collapsing on your couch, not bothering to make the short walk to your bedroom. 17 missed texts from Lee, all links to videos and podcasts about Mickey that she recommended.

Among the links Lee had sent you was a nearly hour long Youtube video titled: ‘What Happened at the Windsor College Ghostface Trial? A Deep Dive’. The woman in the thumbnail had a scared expression on her face, her eyes focused on that same mugshot of Mickey you saw in the old New York Times article. 

Pressing on the link in your messages, you had the video come up on your TV instead, slouching back in your seat as it began to play.

‘I know most stuff about the Windsor College murders focus on just that, the murders, but I thought it’d be interesting to go into the trial that followed because it was almost like something out of a movie, but it doesn’t get as much attention as the killings, especially since there have been like two more Ghostface murder sprees since this happened. I’m just presenting facts and my own observations here for educational purposes, and it’s not my intention to imply guilt on anyone who hasn’t been convicted in a court of law. Before we get into it though, I wanna give a huge thank you to BetterHelp for sponsoring today’s video—‘

You rolled your eyes, skipping through the three-minute long sponsorship spiel.

‘So my sources for this video are Gale Weathers’ books Wrongly Accused: The Maureen Prescott Murder, The Woodsboro Murders, and College Terror. I also used James Chase’s book Ghostface on Trial, articles from newspapers and a few like lawyer journals that I was able to find online, and whatever stuff from the trial itself that’s public information. I have it all linked in the description—“

Pausing the video, you pulled up the New York Public Library website and searched for College Terror and Ghostface on Trial. Copies of both were available at the branch near your office, and you wasted no time in putting a hold on the books. 

The next few minutes of the video gave an overview of the murders at Windsor College, which you half-paid attention to. You’d watched Stab 2 in high school, so you felt you were familiar enough with the killings. Thinking back on the movie, though, all of the characters had the same names as their real-life counterparts except for Mickey. Legal reasons, you assumed.

You turned up the volume on your TV as the video finally got into the details of the trial.

‘As soon as Mickey was arrested, theories were all over the news about what had happened and there was a ton of speculation about his guilt. James Chase, a controversial defense attorney from Chicago, took on the case pro-bono, stating in his book Ghostface on Trial that he knew he stood to make more money on a book deal, interviews, and speaking engagements by winning the case than whatever fees he’d get for representing Mickey. The defense focused on discrediting both of the prosecution’s star witnesses early on in the trial, planting seeds of doubt in the jury.

Chase and his team leaned heavily on the fact that three years prior, Sidney Prescott had incorrectly identified Cotton Weary as her mother’s killer when in fact it was Sidney’s former boyfriend Billy Loomis and their mutual friend Stu Macher who had committed that initial murder that led up to the original Woodsboro Ghostface murders. 

Gale Weathers’ testimony was also discounted by the defense on the fact that she was a sensationalistic tabloid journalist who’d admittedly fabricated elements of her best-selling book on the Woodsboro killings. She claimed this was a result of editing and to achieve a better narrative flow. 

The defense also said the deceased Debbie Loomis had more of a reason to go after Sidney and recreate her son’s Ghostface murders as revenge for his death. They pushed the idea that she acted with Sidney’s boyfriend, Derek, and that Mickey ended up getting caught in the crosshairs of what was a gruesome and unfortunate situation. Sidney maintained Derek’s innocence, but the fact that both he and Debbie were killed by gunshot wounds made it likely they were the Ghostface duo this time around.

Former Woodsboro Deputy Dewey Riley, another survivor of both Ghostface killings, was unable to testify because he was in a coma. He later said that because he was incapacitated before Sidney and Gale allegedly confronted Debbie and Mickey, he couldn’t say for sure who the killer or killers were, but he trusted their judgment and stood behind their testimonies. 

It didn’t help either that Sidney was visibly distraught while on the stand and mixed up details of the original Woodsboro murders and the Windsor College ones. Gale was initially confident while being questioned by the defense, but later became combative when the inaccuracies in her books came up. In contrast, Mickey appeared calm and earnest, and seemed to have his story straight every time he took the stand.

There’s actually some footage of the trial that I was able to find, so I’m gonna play that now.’

The video was grainy, camera focused on an agitated-looking Sidney Prescott sitting in the witness stand. On the other side of the stand, a blond man in a gray suit read off from a stack of papers in his hand. 

“Ms. Prescott, in your statement to police, you claimed that Mr. Altieri admitted to both you and Ms. Weathers that he had committed the murders with Debbie Loomis and wanted to get caught. Could you perhaps explain to myself and the jury, why exactly an alleged killer would want to get caught?”

“Because he’s fucking sick in the head!” Sidney exclaimed.

“Language, Ms. Prescott,” Judge Matthews said.

“He said he did it on purpose,” Sidney continued, her voice breaking. “He told us he wanted to get caught so he could blame it on the movies! He had everything planned out, the lawyers he wanted, the angle the media would take, he even quoted that line from Psycho, ‘We all go a little mad sometimes.’”

Chase furrowed his brow as he looked over the papers in his hands. “When did he say this? I’m not seeing that in your statement.”

“He said it right after he shot Randy,“ Sidney said.

“Randy wasn’t shot, he was stabbed.” 

Sidney’s eyes widened. “I know. I meant—“

“Ms. Prescott, is there something you didn’t include in your police statement that you’re telling us now?”

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Billy quoted Psycho, after he shot Randy at Stu Macher’s house, not Mickey. I got mixed up.”

You gasped, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. The courtroom on your screen devolved into nothing short of pandemonium. The video then faded into Gale Weathers in the middle of being questioned by the defense. She, in contrast to Sidney, looked confident and well-put together under Chase’s grilling.

“Ms. Weathers, you wrote in your book that your camera man Kenny was gutted, when in actuality his throat was slashed, is that correct?”

Gale nodded. “It is.”

“Why the inconsistency?” 

“All books, fiction or nonfiction go through an editing process. That was a decision made by my editor to establish a better narrative flow. It isn’t uncommon in the true crime genre by any means.”

“Better narrative flow isn’t the truth, though, is it?” Chase asked.

“Look, a book is a book. I’ll say right now under oath that Kenny was killed when one of those guys in the Ghostface costume slit his throat. I’ll also say under oath that Mickey Altieri did commit those murders with Debbie Loomis, and he confessed it to me and Sidney Prescott.”

“Your honor, this isn’t the only major inconsistency we’ve found in Ms. Weathers’ book on the Woodsboro murders. Yesterday we distributed to the prosecution and now present to the jury at least seventeen of these major inconsistencies.”

“What do you want me to say? I’m the cheesy tabloid journalist everyone thinks I am?”

The corners of Chase’s lips twitched. “Not quite my words.”

“You’re a real piece of work,” Gale scoffed.

The jury murmured among themselves at her shift in attitude. You found yourself chewing on your nail, enraptured by the trial. For the last time, the video faded out and then back in to show Mickey, your coworker, sitting on the witness stand. This time, the prosecutor was in front of him, his annoyed expression a contrast to Mickey’s calm demeanor.

“Mr. Altieri, we have signed affidavits from several of your former classmates that in your film theory class, you claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and CiCi Cooper, both of whom were killed by this ‘Ghostface’ persona of yours—“

“Objection!” Chase shouted. “Claiming the Ghostface persona belongs to Mr. Altieri is an undue presumption of guilt.”

“Sustained,” Judge Matthews said. “I advise you to reconsider your wording going forward, counselor.”

The prosecutor huffed. “You claimed in a heated argument with Randy Meeks and Casey Cooper, both of whom were killed by the ‘Ghostface’ persona, that violent movies were responsible for influencing people to commit acts of violence, is that correct?”

“It was a classroom discussion. Our professor had brought it up because two fellow students were brutally killed at the premier of a slasher movie the night before, by someone dressed as the killer from that same slasher movie. I just thought it wasn’t a coincidence, and neither did half the other students in that class. Are you going to make them testify too?”

“Don’t deflect, Mr. Altieri.”

“I don’t understand how I’m deflecting. You asked me about a conversation I had with my classmates, and I answered.”

The video went back to the commentator, but you had goosebumps raised across your skin. You rewound back to the clip of Mickey’s testimony, staring at his face. Could he be a killer? Only a few days ago, you wouldn’t have even considered it. Now, you were down a rabbit hole that sent your mind reeling.

‘A lot of the prosecution’s evidence was dismissed as circumstantial by the defense. Mickey had alibis for all of the murders, even for the one Sidney claimed to witness him commit, allegedly shooting her boyfriend Derek. The chat room records and emails allegedly linked to Debbie and Mickey didn’t do much to convince the jury of Mickey’s alleged involvement in the murders. The records did positively identify Debbie based on the account’s password hints and her IP address. The other user was more tech savvy, changing IP addresses to make it more difficult to confirm an identity.

In move that was described as ‘sloppy’ and ‘desperate’ by the media following the trial’s conclusion, the prosecution also tried to claim that Mickey being the only other survivor among Sidney’s friends was suspicious and indicated his involvement, but the defense pointed out that Randy Meeks had also been the only other survivor of Sidney’s friend group in the original Woodsboro killings despite a gunshot wound like Mickey had, and later on at Windsor he was a victim. 

Randy Meeks’ murder actually played a huge role in the defense’s strategy. Several Windsor College students saw Mickey elsewhere on campus during Randy’s murder. The final nail in the coffin was when Windsor County police confirmed that DNA in the news van where Randy was murdered was a match for Debbie Loomis. The police retested other evidence, but couldn’t find anything conclusive.

After weeks of questioning and evidence, the jury deliberated for a little over five days before returning to the judge in a deadlock. Judge Matthews declared a mistrial, and less than a year later, a district court dismissed the case on lack of substantial evidence and all charges against Mickey Altieri were dropped. Despite media speculation that he would, Mickey chose not to sue Sidney and Gale for defamation and hasn’t been in the public eye since the controversial trial.’

You stared blankly at your TV screen when the video ended, another one auto-playing a few seconds later. Even after your drinks with Lee, you felt way too sober to even process any of it. For the next few hours, you devoured videos, bookmarked dozens of articles, and sifted through podcast episodes to listen to during work.

The odd case had made its home in the recesses of your mind. You dreamed about him when you finally fell asleep, just before sunrise. Sitting in the downtown Manhattan office, the open floor layout was unusually bright, fluorescent lighting washing the place in an eerie white glow. Mickey walked over to his desk, blood dripping from his fingers, splattering on the carpet in a trail leading right to him. He looked at you, a smile on his face as he brought his upright, bloody index finger to his lips. 

As the weekend flew by, you tried to keep yourself otherwise occupied. It wasn’t good for you to stay fixated on it, and certainly not fair to Mickey. 

Working from home on Monday helped, as you focused on finishing the last of the onboarding process. 

Tuesday was where things became tricky again. You sat on the forty-minute long subway ride to the office equipped with a podcast episode about your new coworker. The hosts didn’t seem to have much new information from what you took in the night before, except for the last few minutes of the episode where they’d gone off-script.

‘Last I saw online, he was living in Manhattan.’

‘Oh my god, that’s so Patrick Bateman-core.’

‘So you think he did it?’

‘It’s tough to say, like I totally get why the jury couldn’t come to a consensus.’

‘Yeah same, messy as hell. I tend to think that he didn’t do it. Innocent until proven guilty, ya know?’

‘I get that. We did try to get in touch with him for some kind of statement or even an interview—‘

‘Wishful thinking.’

‘Yeah, we looked for his email address, but I guess it wasn’t the right one because our message got bounced back, so that was a big fat bust.’

‘He’s like notorious for denying interview requests, anyway. I think he turned down book deals and stuff.’

Enraptured by the conversation, you nearly missed your stop. On the three block walk to your office, you hurriedly opened one of your playlists and put it on shuffle. The last thing you needed was for Mickey to somehow see on your home screen you’d just been listening to a podcast episode about him.

Your head was spinning by the time you got to your desk. He hadn’t arrived yet, and you felt a bit relieved that you had a little more time to psych yourself up. You shouldn’t have even had to do that in the first place, just be normal about your coworker, but if you learned anything over the weekend, even if he wasn’t guilty, he sure as hell wasn’t normal.

The elevator doors opened, and you looked up to see him walk out, waving at you.

“Morning, Y/N, have a good weekend?”

“Pretty good. I’m more broke than when it started, though. How about you?”

“Like I told you, hot date with Netflix,” he said, sitting down. “Thought you were sticking with shitty liquor?”

“I was, but my friend wasn’t. I got the tab, and she got plenty of margaritas.”

“Shit, I oughta get drinks with you sometime if you get all your friends’ tabs.”

You grinned. “Don’t count your luck.”

He chuckled to himself. The two of you worked in near silence for the next three hours, though you found yourself glancing over at him every so often, out of curiosity and also admiration. His graying hair suited him, and you could see the muscles in his arms from his casually rolled up shirt sleeves. 

Soon, though, you found it hard to stay awake, the light from your computer screen adding onto your fatigue. To your horror, you yawned loudly, catching Mickey’s attention.

“You alright? I’m not too boring, am I?”

“No, I just kept waking up last night. I feel like I barely slept.”

“Why don’t we take an early lunch and go get coffee?”

“That sounds great,” you said, grabbing your purse.

There was a deli right up the block, and when you looked at the small pastry case, you decided to order something with your coffee. Mickey placed his order, a hot coffee and a bear claw. With plenty of tables to choose from, you and Mickey sat near the window. 

Your coffee definitely hit the spot, and the sugar from your pastry helped wake you up too.

“How long’s your commute?” Mickey asked.

“About 40 minutes. I live in Brooklyn, kinda between Bushwick and Bed-Stuy.”

“Damn, that’s long. I live on the Upper West Side.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow. Before this job, I was barely able to afford to rent on my own.”

“It’s a rent-controlled building. I’m not making a ton after alimony and child support.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, though he looked out the window as he continued speaking. “It was a long time ago. Deanna and me just didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of stuff when our son was born. I knew before he even got to kindergarten it was over.”

Unsure of how to respond, you slowly reached across the table, putting your hand over his. “I’m sorry, Mickey, really.”

“You’re a sweet girl,” he said, giving your hand a slight squeeze before releasing it. “They live upstate, so I don’t see them much. I have more time for going to the movies and Mets games.”

“I only go when they’re bad because tickets are cheaper.”

He snickered. “I should take a page outta your book. How about you? Any sports? Or reading? Isn’t true crime pretty popular with young women now?”

Your heart pounded at his question. Innocuous enough. True crime was extremely popular. The paranoid part of you couldn’t help but feel like it was an accusation. Then again, he couldn’t possibly know you’d spent the weekend immersing yourself in it, particularly stuff about him.

“I’m not really interested in that,” you said. “Sometimes my friends and I go to trivia nights at bars. I’m not that good, but it’s fun to just hang out. I have a membership at the MOMA, so I go there a lot. They show movies sometimes, too.”

To your relief, the conversation shifted to just that, and Mickey seemed surprised by some of your opinions on different movies. He told you he’d originally gone to college for film studies, which you already knew, of course. The odd thing was, while you certainly didn’t want him aware of just how much you knew about him, you didn’t feel guilty for it, just that he would be weirded out by it, obviously.

You and Mickey ended up talking about movies for nearly an hour and a half, well over your allotted hour lunch break, but he assured you no one would care that much. Still, the two of you half-ran back to the office, and something bubbled in your chest when he sat down and smiled at you, the wrinkles by his eyes becoming more prominent. 

The rest of the workday went by quickly, and you headed to the library where you’d reserved the two books about the Windsor College murders and trial. By the time you got home, you’d already devoured the first two chapters of Gale Weathers’ book. Glad to be working remotely the following day, you let yourself stay up later than usual to read, getting to the halfway point before you could hardly keep your eyes open.

Weeks turned into months, and you absolutely loved your job, and the pay, but most of all, how the content you consumed and your proximity to Mickey seemed to feed into each other in a vicious cycle that increasingly drowned out the rational part of you that knew what you were doing was weird. 

Still, it wasn’t like you were invading his personal privacy or treating him any different than you did before. All of the information you’d read, listened to, or watched was all public as your running list of books, podcasts, and documentaries on the matter grew. You’d even rewatched the Stab movies and started scrolling through threads and tags related to Mickey and what happened at Windsor College. After all of the personal research you did and how much you’d gotten to know Mickey at work, you couldn’t conclusively say whether or not he did it. 

You tried keeping your obsession lowkey, but your friends seemed to notice how you��d shoehorn it into conversations. Lee had even told you she was afraid she’d created a monster by bringing up Mickey’s past in the first place. If she’d never made her comment or showed you that first article, you probably never would’ve known about it, remaining blissfully unaware and going about your business at your typical office job with your hot older coworker.

For how much time you spent at home between work and researching, it seemed like whenever you’d go out, you’d come home to something missing or moved. Articles of clothing gone, coffee mugs out of place, books not quite in the order you’d left them. At first, you chalked it up to your consuming too much true crime content, feeding into your paranoia, but when you asked your landlord to install another lock on your door, it all seemed to stop. That didn’t bode well with you.

Your fantasies blended with reality in your dreams, as you were having increasing occurrences of Ghostface or Mickey, or both, in them. Whenever you woke up, you didn’t remember much except for a warm feeling in your core. One dream remained vivid even after you awoke, though.

You were in your apartment alone, late at night, when you got a call from an unknown number. Normally, you didn’t pick up calls unless you were expecting them, but for some reason you picked up. The details of the phone call itself were jumbled, but you were frightened, running into your bedroom and locking the door behind you. 

To your horror, you’d locked yourself in with Ghostface, the looming predator who looked at you emotionlessly, stalking toward you with his knife. When you turned around, the door knob was gone, and a black gloved hand grabbed your shoulder, moving you to face him as he pushed you against the door. He sliced through your slinky pajama top, exposing your breasts to him. Roughly groping each of them, he let out a low moan in appreciation before bringing the knife to your collarbone, dragging the blade to the valley between your breasts. Your breath hitched as he pressed it a bit deeper, but instead, you felt it in your pussy, like he was penetrating you.

“Give me a kiss, sweetheart,” your masked assailant ordered in a distorted voice.

Slowly, you leaned in, pressing your lips against the cold, hard plastic mask. You gasped as he dug the knife into your skin with one hand, his other slipping under your panties, pushing his fingers between your folds.

“I own you,” he said, clearly in Mickey’s voice this time.

You threw your head back in ecstasy as he pushed his fingers into your tight cunt, and then your alarm blared, jolting you awake. Turning over, you groaned into your pillow in frustration. At least it ended up being great masturbation material later on.

Another Thursday at work, seemingly uneventful as usual. You and Mickey had gotten into the habit of getting lunch together whenever you both were in the office. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but as time went on, they felt more like dates than just a casual lunch with a coworker. Not that you were complaining.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” he asked in the nearby deli the two of you had begun to frequent.

“No, not really.”

“Do you wanna come over after work tomorrow? Watch a movie or something?” he asked.

“That’d be great!” you said, almost a bit too enthusiastically. “Should I bring anything?”

He shook his head, smiling a bit. “I can order a pizza.”

For some reason, you trusted yourself to be normal at his place, telling yourself throughout Friday that everything would work out fine. Being a weirdo about his alleged murders certainly wouldn’t help you get a real date with him, but your infatuation with him was only growing. You liked the slightest hint of danger about him, going to his apartment alone, wondering in the back of your mind what his true intentions were and feeling a bit of a thrill at the prospect that they could be anything less than innocent.

You showed up at his apartment that evening with a bottle of wine in hand, even though he’d told you not to bring anything. As expected, he thanked you for the wine, though he gave you an exasperated look as he let you into his apartment. Nicer than yours, but it still looked lived-in.

“Pizza will be here in a couple of minutes,” he said. “I’m thinking Mean Streets for the movie.”

“It’s a classic,” you agreed. “I love Harvey Keitel in it.”

“You know, that was De Niro and Scorsese’s first time working together.”

“Wait, why did I think Taxi Driver was first?”

“Came out in ‘76, just after he was in Godfather Part II in ‘74. Busy decade for him.”

“You’re telling me.”

The doorbell rang, the pizza arriving sooner than expected. You waited in the kitchen while Mickey dealt with the delivery.

“We can eat in the living room while we watch,” he said, carrying the pizza box inside. “I don’t have many people over, so it’s still a little messy.”

“That’s okay,” you assured him.

He put on the movie, and you balanced the paper plate on your lap, nodding along to “Be My Baby” as it played during the opening scene. Testing the waters, you scooted closer to him a few minutes into the movie. He glanced over at you, and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest hint of a smile on his face. 

You were especially pleased when he put his arm around you, not bothering with the pretense of a “move,” but rather taking what he wanted. Settling comfortably next to him, you tried to focus on the movie.

Despite his arm around your shoulders, closer physically to him than you ever had been, you felt restless. You knew when the halfway point of the movie was, and so you excused yourself to use the bathroom, telling him he didn’t need to pause it until you returned.

The tips of your fingers itched as you passed closed doors to the bathroom, which he told you was at the end of the hall. Biting your lip, you considered your options, and in a moment of impulse and weakness, you reached for one of the door handles. A mostly empty extra bedroom, maybe his son’s old room. 

You weren’t deterred, opening another door. Jackpot. Slightly messy, with clothes strewn about the floor and on the dark sheets of his bed. Glancing behind you, you stepped into his room and looked around for anything that stood out. 

Most people hid things under their beds, and so you got down on your hands and knees, wondering where exactly he might hide his—

“Don’t think this is the bathroom,” he said, startling you.

You yelped, frantically turning around as your brain short circuited for an explanation. “I—I was just—“

“Looking for trophies? All serial killers keep them, right?” he asked, towering over you from your spot on the floor. “Mementos of their victims or the kills.”

You shook your head frantically. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, but you’re looking in the wrong place anyway,” he said, pulling the knife from behind his back.

“Serial killers also don’t—don’t kill people th-they know,” you stammered.

“Typically,” he agreed, “but I’m not typical, am I? I’m sure you’ve listened to plenty of those cute little podcasts where some dumbasses read the Wikipedia page about the Windsor College murders in between hawking security systems to their listeners that they’ve just scared shitless. I admitted I did it, went to fucking trial, and the jury couldn’t even find me guilty.”

“Point taken.”

“So, what trophy would I keep from you?”

You were silent for a moment before answering, looking him in the eye. “My panties.”

“Which pair? Figure I have at least five of them now. Unless you wanna make that six, sweetheart.”

“You’ve been breaking into my place all this time.”

“You made it way too easy. It’s like you were asking for it.”

Maybe you were. Regardless, you didn’t show any resistance when he lightly kicked at your leg, a silent command to stand up. You got to your feet, though your gaze was fixed on the knife in his hand. His eyes followed yours, and he smirked a bit before putting the knife aside.

He turned you around, pushing you back onto his bed. Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed your skirt up, his hand caressing your ass, fingers brushing the thin fabric of your panties.

“Were you asking for it, sweetheart? Have you wanted this all along? Been a bad girl to get my attention?”

“Yes,” you whimpered weakly, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y’know, I’ve heard of serial killers having groupies, but you,” he said, slapping your ass for emphasis, eliciting a moan from you, “are something else.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you whispered, fidgeting against his mattress.

“I’m disappointed in you.” Another smack on your ass. “I could’ve been having fun with you months ago.” Smack! You hissed this time, though your pussy was pulsing between your legs. “Bent you over my desk in the office, have my way with you while no one else is around—or maybe a little slut like you would wanna get caught with daddy’s dick buried inside her.”

He spanked you harder this time, holding you down when your body instinctively recoiled at the impact. A pained moan escaped your lips as he pressed his body weight against you, his clothed cock rubbing against your tender skin. Tears welled up in your eyes as the sensation, and you resisted the urge to slip your hand between your legs.

“Or maybe,” he said, reaching around you to wrap his hand around your neck, “you just want me to fuck you before I kill you. Probably cum the minute I put that old Ghostface mask on, huh, baby?”

You let out a strangled moan at his words. “Yes, daddy.”

He released his grip on your throat, standing up to give you one more slap across your ass. “Turn over. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

The friction from his sheets stung against your sore ass as you rolled over to look at him, though he grabbed you, pushing you onto your back himself. His grip on you was tight, fingers digging into your arms as he held you down beneath him, completely at his mercy.

He pulled off your skirt and panties, leaving your pussy exposed for him. He dragged his index finger between your folds, and you whimpered when he brushed your clit.

“God, you’re soaked,” he murmured against your lips. “Was it the spanking, or is it the serial killer thing?”

“Both.”

“Good answer,” he said, lazily circling your clit with his finger. 

He ducked his head down, wasting no time in devouring your wet cunt. His tongue relentlessly flicked at your clit while he slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out of your hole. You took them easily, but wondered if it’d be the same for his cock when he’d undoubtedly fuck you. 

Your hands gripped his sheets as he worked his tongue, your feet curling at the tension you felt building up inside of you. He moaned against you, loud enough that it felt like his voice rocked through your body. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded breathlessly.

A pained and outraged whine pulled from your throat when he did just that. You looked down at him between your legs, betrayed.

“Why should I let you cum?” he teased, rubbing light circles in your clit with his soaked fingers. “You’ve been a bad girl.”

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. “Please, daddy.”

“You can do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please let me cum, daddy. I’ll be so good. I—I’ll do anything, just—please,” you cried out in frustration of being so close yet not quite there.

“Only since you asked so nicely,” he relented, dipping his head back down between your legs, his hands holding your hips in place as your lower half began to quiver at his touch.

You could feel his lips move slightly against your sensitive pussy, nothing short of a smug expression on his face at making you fall apart so easily. It didn’t matter, your head was swimming, muscles strained as he brought you closer to climax. Grabbing his hair, you pressed his face closer against your pussy, grinding against it in desperation. 

“Mickey—Fuck—“ you choked out as your orgasm wracked through you, fireworks in between your legs as your body shook. 

He ate you out through your orgasm, and another tidal wave of pleasure hit you all at once, almost painful and overwhelming, your brain on fire at the sensation. You could hardly catch your breath when you released your grip from his hair and he lifted his head, your wetness glistening on his lips.

When he kissed you, you hardly had the strength to kiss him back, though tasting yourself on his mouth sent a rush through you. He pressed sloppy kisses to your face, trailing down to your neck. His hard length rubbed against your slick-coated thigh, a low growl coming from deep in his throat.

“W-Wait, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Did you really wanna get caught?”

He stopped, lifting his head from your neck to look at you a few moments before answering, “Yeah, blame the movies, make a real circus of the trial, but my attorney said he didn’t think I could pull off an insanity plea because I was too put together. Obviously pleading guilty and confessing everything wouldn’t get nearly as much attention as actually going on trial. I was pissed at first, but it worked out, I mean I had every reporter eating out of the palm of my hand by day three.”

“Why don’t you do interviews now? Or write a book?”

“What’s there to say? Not the truth.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you muttered. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“Probably should,” he said, the slightest smirk ghosting his lips as his eyes raked over you, “I might need more convincing not to.”

[hell-drabbles]

Satan 1

Summary: Despite being in a contract with him, you have less than positive feelings towards Satan. As such, Ppyong was really a breath of fresh air to you. You couldn't help but slam your elbow into the red lump demon when he offered to be your stress toy. It's fun, spoiling Ppyong while angering the childish Satan.

They're idiots.

Solomon should've told you something you don't know. Unfortunately, this idiocy spreads over to strange and rather extreme social customs. Sometimes it's interesting to watch, but they made the rather dangerous assumption that somehow you will easily follow along with their line of thinking.

This kind of idiocy was made most apparent to you with your first meeting with Satan, when your shirt was ripped open and you were reeling at the sight of Minhyeok's death and the demon suddenly decided that touching you was the perfect time. Never have you punched a person so hard you busted your knuckles open. And that open reaction of pure unadulterated lust at your hit?

It disgusted you.

Satan saved Minhyeok, you won't deny him that, but by no means is he suddenly your friend or anyone that you remotely liked. That goes to Minhyeok and, recently, Ppyong.

A seemingly harmless little red lump demon with a bazooka almost too big for body. He's an idiot like the rest of the demons you've met, but he had enough sense in that brain of his to not suddenly touch you when you don't want to. He gives you space, which the rest of the demons seem to forget you value highly.

You get it, it's a high sex society with absolutely no reasons for them to hold back in any manner, and despite your status as a child of Solomon, your human origins makes them all infuriatingly arrogant towards you. Like they think they know your kinks inside and out, and move forward with that horrifically wrong knowledge. Nobody gets to just touch you. They have to earn that right.

Don't be too hard on them. They'll see things your way eventually.

Will they now, Solomon?

... Well, if nothing else, at least they'll keep you entertained.

You thought Satan was going just be the outlier in his kingdom, but no. He's essentially everything irritating condensed in this small body of his.

Its why when Satan sat next to you at the bar, arm ready to sling over your shoulders that you clicked your tongue and choose to stand up.

"Ah, that's weird," and as always, there is not an intelligent thought behind those weird eyes of his as he took a sniff of his sleeve, "I'm pretty sure I scrubbed myself from head to toe. Are you sure you're not shy?"

And you didn't say shit. You didn't want to speak because you knew your anger would spill into your words. Already just by grinding your jaw, there's a rush of blood flowing into his cheeks. He wants to make you angry and you really don't want to engage with him.

"Aye! It seems the Child of Solomon is building up so much anger," Ppyong flew over and plopped his butt on the seat you were just in, clearly enjoying the warmth left behind, little rascal, "But, I heard humans can get sick if they bottle all that up. Why not use this body of mine as a punching back?"

If it weren't for the expression of open bliss on Ppyong's face, you probably would've said no. You knew what he clearly wanted and, quite frankly, you really wanted to hit something that wouldn't possibly crack your bones. And you liked Ppyong so you may as well spoil him a little.

"You sure?" You asked with a tilt to your head. You heard an audible crack of teeth being ground and you almost let a smile peek through.

"Aye! I can take anything!" He puffed up his belly, proud of his shape.

You slammed your elbow right down where his ribs should be. The seat creaked and the floor board below it even cracked. Ppyong spat and gagged but the tears spilling from his beady eyes told you of the paradise you just helped him reach. You couldn't help but laugh.

"You enjoyed that a lot, huh little buddy?"

"A little too much if you asked me." And Satan, without much prompt from anyone, grabbed Ppyong by the tail before whipping right to the farthest wall. "Well? Aren't you gonna do me next?"

You left him hanging by going right back to Ppyong. He shuddered up.

"Thank you for releasing your anger on me," he said.

"You're welcome." And thank you for keeping me sane in this place, you funky red lump.

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 5-- Date Night

An evening in with SE Saeran (791 words)

“I’m sorry that you’re missing the party.” The words spill out of Saeran’s mouth before it can occur to him that they may not be the most appropriate. “And…. nice pajamas.” 

You snort, filing into the bunker and flopping down onto the couch. “Please don’t feel bad,” you appeal, “I just got lunch with Jumin today, and he completely understands. He was worried about you getting left alone, anyway.” 

Saeran’s heart sinks. He’d thought this was something like a date, but… “So you’re babysitting me.”

You wrinkle your face up cutely, regarding him with palpable confusion from over the top of the couch. “What?” You shake your head, “No, sorry, I should’ve said— you’re doing me a giant favor, since now I get to skip the C&R event. But Jumin already knows I hate those corporate parties— plus, I’ll go to the RFA thing tomorrow, and you’ll get the bunker to yourself. I hope it’s okay… but I’d rather spend time with you than at some boring black-tie thing. If anything, you’re babysitting me, to keep me from changing into sneakers halfway though and ruining Jumin’s reputation by association. Did you pick a movie?”

“Thanks for explaining,” Saeran grumbles. It’s always embarrassing, but his therapist has been encouraging him to communicate how he feels about other people’s actions, positive and negative, and to ask for clarification when he doesn’t know something. 

“Of course,” you grin. “I should’ve made it clear earlier. I’m sorry if you thought— it’s just— I didn’t want Chairman Han to think I was ungrateful after he gave so much to the RFA, so—” 

“It’s fine,” Saeran assures you. “I’m not mad.” That’s another thing he’s been working on— telling other people how he feels, positive and negative, to help them better understand him. 

You visibly relax. You know Saeran wouldn’t say something was fine unless it actually was. “Okay, good. Then we can actually start our date.” 

Saeran’s cheeks heat. You’re probably only saying that because you’re not actually interested in him— why would you be, after what he’s done? Maybe you see him as a friend, but he can’t imagine somebody like you ever wanting anything more than that with somebody like him. Either way, the idea of it gets him flustered. “I chose a movie.” 

“Cool.” You’re already engaged in a battle with the remote for Saeyoung’s so-called ‘Genius TV,’ a heavily modified smart TV which, for some reason, features state-of-the-art security. “Which thing is it on?”

It takes Saeran a moment to realize that you’re referring to streaming services. “I already downloaded it from the website,” he replies flatly. 

“Legally?” You ask, but there’s a twinkle in your eyes that shows you’re only joking. If you cared about people breaking laws, then you probably wouldn’t be hanging out with Saeran in the first place.

“Probably not.” He may as well be honest with you. 

You giggle, and though Saeran isn’t sure what’s so funny, he’s pleased to have made you laugh. It’s moments like these where he feels more like a normal person— he is not a burden but someone around whom you choose to spend your time for the sheer joy of it. “You’re so straightforward,” you grin. “I love that about you. But, anyway, I brought snacks— let me just look for them really quick.” 

Saeran sits down beside you and wordlessly takes the remote while you rummage through your bag. He sets up the movie before returning his attention to you. “What did you bring?” 

“Well, I got salt and vinegar chips,” you report. At Saeran’s sour expression, you evidently feel the need to clarify, “But those are mostly for me. You don’t have to eat any if you don’t want to. I also got this big bag of—” You pause to read the label on the package in a dramatic voice— “Assorted Halloween candy.” 

“I’ll take that,” Saeran mutters, accepting the gaudy orange plastic bag. He’s always preferred sweet snacks to salty ones, though he’s endeared by your confidence in providing for your own cravings, too. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you reply, “Is it okay… if I lay my head on your shoulder?” Saeran considers your request. Sometimes, he can’t handle that level of intimacy— but today he thinks it’ll be fine. Besides, if he changes his mind, he knows you’ll back off without question, caveat, or complaint. “I’d like that.” 

“Okay,” you nod, before laying your head on Saeran’s shoulder as promised. “Thanks for being here. You’re… really special to me, you know? I mean, not like— well, if you wanted to, but— what I’m saying— oh, the movie is starting. I’ll just shut up.” 

Maybe he was wrong about you not being interested in him, after all.

[tonyfavgirl]

Didyme's fingerprints can still be seen in Aro's actions, even after her death

There are some videos on TikTok featuring Chinese people recreating ancient paper, ancient blush, ancient lipstick, and various other artifacts, using traditional methods passed down from their ancestors.

I strongly believe that Aro possesses such items.

Both Didyme and he were deeply enamored with humanity's ceaseless creativity, marveling at its ability to continuously invent and innovate in the most intricate and well-thought-out ways despite everything. They made it a point to purchase anything that remotely piqued their interest.

It didn't matter that all of those items were extremely expensive, especially considering the challenges of transportation, given that the Volturi resided in Volterra, and there is a considerable distance between Italy and China. The Volturi, having existed for centuries, had amassed significant wealth. Amidst the books, art pieces, and various objects accumulated over the years, Aro and Didyme actively worked to acquire these items from different continents, even though they knew they would never use them due to the meticulous care they took in maintaining their possessions.

As time passed, Didyme developed a deep fascination with jewelry, while Aro pursued a more mechanical path. While his sister sought out necklaces and bracelets, always sharing her finds with Athenodora and Sulpicia, Aro immersed himself in learning a wide array of skills. His fascination even led him to master the art of Chinese ancient printing.

Aro made it a priority to learn Chinese and traveled to China solely to acquire knowledge. He dedicated himself to mastering the intricacies of their ancient printing machine. Despite the rarity of his leisure moments, given his position as one of the rulers of an entire bloodthirsty race, he relentlessly attempted to recreate the print exactly as he had learned from the mind of the person he had read. His pursuit never wavered until he got it right.

When he did achieve perfection, it, of course, only signaled the beginning of a new learning journey. Aro, always seeking new knowledge, explored different realms of expertise. Didyme introduced him to the beauty of jewelry, initially something he hadn't paid much attention to, as he gravitated towards more obvious arts, such as sculpture and music.

However, like every truly good person in tragic tales, Didyme's life was cut short, and Aro found himself to blame. As the weight of his actions sank in — realizing he had taken the life of his sister, whom he had witnessed being born, whom he had taught how to write, whom he had seen learn to walk, whom he had waited to be older to be transformed and be by his side — Aro came to terms with the harsh reality that, for him, family, despite its significance, was not as powerful as the pursuit of power itself. In the aftermath, he needed solace and something to cling to.

For Aro, that anchor became Didyme herself and the love she had for jewelry.

In perhaps a desperate attempt to keep even a hint of his sister's memory alive or in a cunning effort to convey to Marcus the depth of his suffering (to this day, he remains unsure of the true reason), Aro learned the art of creating jewelry.

In the beginning, he simply observed others engaging in the craft, recalling the wonder with which his sister always regarded them. Nevertheless, one thing led to another, and now, much like Caius with his art room and Marcus with his personal library, Aro has his own workshop dedicated to creating all types of jewelry, from necklaces to rings, bracelets, and more.

Without skipping a single piece, he always creates two: one for himself and one to place in Didyme's room, among the countless other items he has never managed to discard, even thousands of years after her demise.