#i’m trying so hard not to and i’m trying to keep myself from researching different methods

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice. 

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can. 

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there. 

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically. 

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood. 

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie. 

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?” 

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.” 

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty. 

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-” 

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-” 

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles. 

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word. 

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.” 

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home. 

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

[novlr]

I have a bad habit of never finishing writing I start - I work hard on a story, make it to 3/4 of the way through, then lose passion for it and start something else. I know the key to overcoming this is discipline, and I’m trying very hard to make myself keep going with my current story that I like very much and spent so much time researching and outlining, but it’s a struggle every day to make my writing goal. Any advice for how to re-ignite writing spark or how to push through to the end?

We can lose our drive to write for a lot of reasons. It often indicates a growing maturity as an artist — you understand the craft better and your own (current) limitations better, and so you begin to feel overwhelmed in a way you didn’t before. It can also be that external anxieties are getting in the way or simply that you’ve lost interest in your current project. 

Hope is not lost. Read on for some tips on reclaiming your writing spark. 

Shift gears

Sometimes, all you need to reignite your writing spark is to engage your brain in a different way. If you’re struggling with your novel, take a break and try writing a poem or a piece of flash fiction. Or, you could try drawing sketches of your characters, a map of your story’s world, or some possible outfits for your climactic battle scene (it doesn’t have to be good. No one’s going to see it). 

The trick is to stay creative but to approach your work from a different angle. 

Change location

If you’ve been trying and failing to write at your desk, surrounded by crumpled up dreams drafts and last week’s candy wrappers, you may be suffering from an environment with stagnant energy. Try taking yourself on a writer’s date: go to a location that fits the tone of the project you’re working on (lux hotel lobby, seedy theatre bar, the wilds of a nearby park), and see if that gets your creative wheels turning. 

Dress [in]appropriately 

In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg has a chapter called “Blue Lipstick and a Cigarette Hanging Out Your Mouth”. By this she meant, “Use outfits and props to step outside yourself and get a new perspective”. You might find it helpful to have a special “writer’s sweater” that you only wear when you’re writing or to dress like someone confident and cool enough to smash writer’s block in the face. 

Do some soul-searching

What’s really going on here? If the above tricks aren’t doing it for you, there may be some bigger issues at play that are inhibiting you from connecting to your writing spark. 

Write letters

I’ve written about the restorative powers of letter writing before, and I’ll mention it again: handwritten letters are a great way to get the words flowing. You don’t actually have to send them when you’re done (although you can if you want to); the recipient doesn’t even need to exist. Simply by putting your thoughts down in a low-risk way, you’re unclogging your creative pipes. 

Join a writing group

There’s power and accountability in numbers. You can find writing groups online, through community centres and writers centres, or by sticking a flyer up in a bookshop and starting your own. There’s even a Novlr writing community on Discord where we share tips, struggles, and just generally talk craft! By inviting other people into your writing practice, you’ll have some support and encouragement to keep you going. 

Find your writing spark with writing prompts

The internet is awash with writing prompts. These can be a helpful way to get something down on paper and stretch out your writing muscles. Whether it’s a premise, an opening line, or a character study, writing prompts can give you a gentle, creative push and even inspire new work.

Experiment with found structure

If writing a traditional story feels like pulling out your own teeth, try a found structure story. This means using fictional “found material” like shopping lists, calendars, to-do lists, ticket stubs, banking records, and so forth to create a narrative. 

Here’s an example: Imagine a week in which a bride-to-be prepares for her glorious wedding, is left at the altar, rages in misery, and ultimately emerges healthier and stronger. Now, write her shopping list for each day of that week. How does it change from beginning to end? How much emotional detail can you communicate to the reader through the items that appear on these lists? This can be a fun way to create a story without the anxiety of writing it.

Set a petty life goal

I am a proud champion of the value of pettiness as a motivator. There are plenty of noble reasons to write: to share powerful stories, to help readers in need of healing, to inspire others to write stories themselves, and to draw attention to important social issues or minority identities. 

There are also some really inane and selfish reasons to write: to become more famous than your ex, to appear on TV and make your ex regret everything they’ve ever done to you, to have your book made into a movie and receive casting consultation rights and pitch your favourite actor in the lead role and allow them to take you for coffee as a thank you. But the thing is… these are the motivations that are really going to pull you out of the dirt when you need it most. Find the silly driving goal that really gets under your skin and hold onto it for dear life. 

Forgive yourself

Many writers experience a lot of shame when they aren’t writing as much as they feel they should. Needless to say, this shame only makes the writing harder. Allow yourself the space to take some time when you need it, process your struggles, and return when you’re ready. The page will be waiting when you get back. 

[soulofapatrick]

Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader 

Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other

Words: 2.6K

Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping

Y/N’s POV

Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to. 

I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin. 

Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming. 

Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him? 

Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates. 

I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him. 

The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. 

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me. 

I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us? 

There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.

Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen. 

I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present. 

I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued. 

His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee��should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring. 

I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory. 

“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement. 

Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me. 

Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine. 

As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him. 

For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown. 

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.

The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard. 

Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us. 

Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer. 

In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable. 

As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together. 

The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. 

His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden. 

My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away. 

As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged. 

His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending. 

As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory. 

Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream. 

“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing. 

Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires. 

The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection. 

As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.

His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions. 

As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words. 

The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads. 

As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me. 

Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge. 

“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him. 

“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs. 

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head. 

“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes. 

Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips. 

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language, angst, depictions of blood

Chapter Word Count: 3327

—-MDNI—-

A/N: soooo this chapter felt weird to write, but hey I wanted it for the plot to thicken haha. It’s different, but things will feel a bit more normal after this chapter.

——————————————————————

Please read the below:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8pt.1

Chapter 8pt.2

Chapter 9 Chapter 10

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 11

By the time I’d passed the security check, introduced myself to the two other girls currently on shift and found my dressing room, the nerves were starting to dissipate. Through each step and each new room I’d entered I was making countless mental notes on every security camera and exit I could see. It wasn’t hard to tell that everyone except the bar and wait staff and the dancers were all vampires - their noses twitching and eyes widening whenever I’d walked past. I was clearly fresh meat - perhaps not in the immediate future, but I’m guessing that as soon as I’d served my purpose in luring unknowing human men to their untimely demise, I’d be next. Or at least kept as a blood bag, and I didn’t know which was worse.

A sharp knock on the door brought me back to reality, the vamp on the other side not even waiting for a reply as he barged in.

“You’re sure taking your time sweet cheeks, everything ok?” His sharp gaze twinkled as he looked at me, as if searching for any sort of vulnerability. I huffed out a final deep breath of nerves before standing straight and forcing a smile, shimmying out of my thick overcoat and throwing it over the back of the chair I was just leaning on. On the revelation of my figure and my outfit he let out a long, low whistle.

“Well don’t you just look good enough to eat?”

I swallowed despite my mouth being dry, trying my best to bring my confidence to the forefront and to ignore what he is.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first to say so,” I almost felt nauseous from having to sound so sweet. “Why don’t you lead the way and show me where I’m supposed to be?”

He didn’t take any convincing as he led me out the room and down a short corridor that was lined with what I’m assuming are other dressing rooms.

“What’s in there?” I asked, my gaze snagging on a metal door that didn’t look like the rest. It looked more like a vault, with an intricate lock system that seemed to need both keys and fingerprints.

“Errrrr, just the boss's office. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” he placed his hand on my hair, making me shudder.

“Oh ok… will I ever get to meet the boss?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. Keeping up with this cutie-pie act was going to be more draining than I thought. He stayed quiet for a moment before speaking up, an unsettling look on his face.

“Of course doll face! When the time is right.”

*

About two hours had passed since I arrived at the club and a steady stream of men (occasionally women) was filtering in. I was currently up on a podium and trying not to think too hard about how I should be dancing whilst keeping my eyes peeled on the crowd, every now and then making eye contact with the patrons and blowing them a sickening kiss with a sultry wink. Every time I slipped away for a ‘toilet break’ I'd unlock as many windows and doors as I could find whilst turning security cameras towards the wall. I'd counted around fifteen vampires milling around as I snuck about, and there were definitely more behind that metal door. This place was about as prepared as possible for Sam and Dean to sneak in, so I sent Charlie a text with all the details I had knowing full well she could no longer see me through the cameras she'd hacked into.

I'd been back on my podium for about ten minutes, moving my body to the loud bass of the blaring music under the erotic lighting which glowed all manner of pinks and reds, when the front door opened again to let another patron in. Except this wasn't a patron.

It was Dean.

I cursed under my breath, frowning at him across the dance floor despite the fact he hadn't seen me yet. What the actual fuck was he doing coming in through the front door? I didn't play mission impossible and find countless ways for him to break in just so that he could waltz in, bold as brass and blow our cover. I watched him as he stopped in the centre of the room, illuminated by the lights that cast angular shadows over his rugged face. He was alert, jaw clenched and eyes scouring the crowd until his gaze eventually landed on me. With my arms above my head and gripping the pole behind me he was able to get a good look at what was hiding underneath my overcoat when he last saw me. Eyes glazing over and Adam's apple bobbing, he was instantly ensnared. I focused entirely on him; sinking to my knees and crawling my hands forwards, beckoning him with a single finger to which he eagerly obliged. The older Winchester stood before me, eyes almost sparkling from the lustful lighting as he gaped up at me. His evergreen eyes shone in adoration as they bore into mine, almost completely disregarding the lasciviousness of the rest of my body. It was almost…

Romantic.

I leant forwards, my painted lips brushing against his ear and pulling a shiver from his spine. I could have been mistaken, but I’m sure I heard a groan.

“What the FUCK are you doing here, Dean?”

He blinked, suddenly remembering he was on earth.

“What?”

“The plan! What happened to the plan? You were supposed to go around the back - I made it easy for you to sneak in! This place is well guarded Dean.”

“Yeah well, I wanted to make sure you were- hang on- are you a MAID?” He stepped back to take a better look at me as I sat up, trying not to draw attention to myself for staying still for too long. My eyes rolled on their own accord.

“Dean now really isn’t the tim-”

“Holy crap you’re a maid. You’re a MAID. So there is a God,” he dramatically put his hands together as though in prayer and mouthed ‘thank you’ to the disco ball on the ceiling.

“Dean-”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not letting anyone ruin this for me - not even you. Carry on, pretend I’m not Dean and there aren’t any vamps to kill; just for two minutes,” he settled into one of the chairs in front of my podium, flagging a waitress down for a whiskey in the process. There was no arguing with Dean Winchester, especially when he was ticking something off his bucket list. Grasping the pole behind me I pulled myself to my feet, hooking my leg around it and spinning slowly.

“So, NOT-Dean, where’s not-Sam?”

He took a long sip from his liquor before licking his lips, his eyes transfixed on my thighs.

“He's uhhh…. He's sneaking in through some window round the back.”

“Oh, so like you should be?”

He smirked over the top of his glass, spreading his legs a little wider as he settled further into his chair, his other hand resting in his lap.

“Don't deny a man his pleasures sweetheart.”

A half hearted scoff left my lips before I climbed higher on the pole, leaning back so I was almost upside down, granting Dean the perfect view of my lingerie as my micro-skirt flipped over my belly. Spinning slightly, I caught him adjusting himself in his jeans right as I pulled myself back upright.

“You seem pretty at home in a strip club,” my voice came out more breathy than intended as I moved my body in time with the music.

“I can say the same about you,” he quipped back, dark eyes burning into my exposed skin. Licking the last drop of whiskey from his bottom lip, he placed his glass back on the table before standing; taking long, slow steps towards my podium, the toes of his boots touching the metal. I got down on my knees, bringing myself to his eye level before taking his chin between my thumb and index finger and drawing his bewitched face nearer. We ignored the shouts from security telling Dean he wasn’t allowed to touch as I ghosted my lips over his. I could feel his chest rising and falling in anticipation for a simple kiss, his mouth agape and eyes darting about my features - trying to take all of me in. His restraint snapped and he leant forward, pressing his mouth to mine - hot and needy. A large hand reached up and long fingers wrapped around my wrist, rough skin tickling at my pulse as he guided my hand from his chin to his hair, urging me to grip it. Just as I grasped at its softness he was forced away from me, two of the vamps shoving aggressively at his shoulders and putting some distance between us.

“Keep your hands off the girls! You know the rules,” one of them practically spat out his words to Dean, who in return had a feral look in his eye as I caught his hand inching closer and closer to the blade concealed within his jacket.

“Sorry it was my fault!” I blurted, all eyes now burning into me. “It's my first shift and I forgot I shouldn't let it get that far. Don't blame him, it was me who was too…. encouraging.” I flashed sickly-sweet doe eyes at the vamp sizing up Dean, biting my lip in apprehension before he sighed and let go, shaking his head.

“I’ll let you off this time as you’re the newbie, but don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes’sir!” I tapped my fingers to my forehead in a pretend salute, hearing the fanged ones curse under their breath before walking away, throwing one last warning look at Dean - who looked like the cat that got the cream - before returning to their posts. When I knew that they were definitely out of earshot, I snapped at Dean.

“You could’ve totally blown everything!”

Shrug.

“But I didn’t.”

“Dean, you need to go. Sam is going to be wondering where you are. Find him before you get caught.”

“And what about you?” He chewed his lip, unable to stop his eyes from wandering.

“I’m going to stay here and stick to the plan. I’ll run at the first sign of trouble, so please don’t worry about me,” I sighed, looking down at his puppy-dog eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m always gonna worry about you.”

*

It must have been about twenty minutes since Dean left to find Sam and my heart was pounding in my chest knowing how close they were and the possible danger they were in. I didn’t know what doors they were behind, or how many vamps they’d taken out, and I certainly didn’t know if they were unharmed. My palms felt sweaty on the pole as I danced, making it hard for me to grip and put on a good show. Now was as good a time as any to have a toilet break and grab some coffee. I hopped down from my podium as the song ended and hurried to the back of the club, darting through a ‘staff only’ door to the break room. I poured myself a small cup of coffee, adding an obscene amount of sugar to stop my knees from trembling. I’d barely swallowed my first mouthful when I heard shouts and crashing from down the hall, my fingers instantly loosening from the mug as my high-heeled feet carried me to the door where I peaked out, desperate to know what was going on yet mindful not to be seen. There was no one in the corridor that I could see, yet I checked left and right to make sure I wasn’t being watched before I slipped out, teetering on my platforms as I tiptoed to where I was sure the noise had come from.

It was the metal door.

I poked my head down the corridor where it was located and was grateful to see it unlocked and sitting ajar. Inching closer I could hear a scuffle from within and the sound of heavy bodies dropping like lead to the floor, followed by Sam and Deans unintelligible murmuring. A sigh of relief left my lips when I heard them, knowing it wasn’t their bodies hitting the cold tiles below. That relief froze in my veins however when I heard a third voice speak up. A voice that was smooth like butter. A voice that drew you in with a silky southern accent.

A voice that I knew to be dead.

Hesitation and reasoning left in the dust, I barged forwards and into the room, shoving the metal door wide and startling the Winchester brothers, their eyes widening at my sudden appearance. Before they even had the chance to open their mouths, slow clapping echoed through the ‘old money’ style office, emanating from behind a large mahogany desk.

“And there she is! The star of my show. It’s about time you showed up darlin’,” that southern voice dripped with charisma as a handsome man, around my age, sat in a crisp stone-coloured, three piece suit.

“Hey! Don’t you talk to her, you’re dealing with us,” Dean was quick to bite. The stranger threw him a sharp glare before rising to his feet, his cold gaze landed on me again and burned me through to my very soul.

“Y-y-you’re de-” I started before being immediately cut off.

“I bet you never thought you’d see me again, hm? Especially not like this,” he gestured to himself.

“(Y/n),” Sam’s cautious eyes landed on mine, “how do you know him? He’s a vampire.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but yet again I was interrupted before a sound passed my lips.

“Oh (Y/n) and I go waaaaaaaay back, don’t we darlin’?”

I could see Dean inching closer to me out of the corner of my eye, trying not to draw attention to himself in the process. I opened my mouth to speak again, my lips and tongue feeling dry and numb, like they didn’t want to utter the word about to be spoken.

“Daniel I-”

“BINGO!” He clapped loudly, “she DOES remember her old sweetheart.”

“WHAT!?” Both Sam and Dean spun to look at me with dumbfounded expressions, a whole array of emotions flitting across their features.

“(Y/n) you dated a vamp?” Sam asked, those big eyes of his glistening with concern.

“He wasn’t a vamp when I knew him; he’s supposed to be dead!” I turned from Sam to Daniel, the confusion clearly evident on my face, “you’re supposed to be dead - I watched you die - how are you here?”

A harsh laugh rippled from his chest.

“Paramedic was a vampire sweet-cheeks. He turned me on the way to the morgue after he pronounced me dead at the scene - stroke of genius really. Although,” he paused, walking around the desk to step towards me, the boys reaching for every weapon on their person to have at the ready, “what’s even more genius is that ad we put out for a dancer.”

“What?”

He scoffed.

“You think it’s a stroke of good luck that you just happen to look exactly like the description we posted? Honey I knew from the moment I turned what you and your uncle did for living - the dots seemed to connect all on their own. And I knew that one day - whether now or in a few years - that you or some other hunter you might know would pass through my nest and see it. I knew it would bring you back to me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hang on their sparkles; she’s not going anywhere with you,” Dean had pushed his way in between me and Daniel, the eldest Winchester standing a few inches taller than him as they went nose-to-nose.

Daniel grimaced, fangs threatening to show.

“Why is her scent all over you? Don’t tell me you two are involved?”

Dean smirked before I shoved him out the way, his thick fingers protectively wrapping around my wrist as a safety line.

“Daniel I-,” I took a deep breath, “I loved you once. A long, long time ago. But to me, in my world; you died. And I grieved you. God I grieved you for years, and then one day I woke up and my heart didn’t hurt as much anymore. I carried on with my life, the heartache easing a little everyday. Until there was no more heartache - no more pain. I was whole again. Daniel - you’re still dead in my world. Nothing is going to change.”

He reached for my hand but Dean put an arm between us, stopping him in his tracks.

“(Y/n), darlin’, I put that ad out because I still love you. We can still be together - forever. Just let me turn you-”

“Aannnd that’s it loverboy, times up,” Dean pushed me behind him and brandished the hunting blade he’d use to slice my underwear from my body about a week ago on our first hunt together. Right as Daniel bared his fangs and lunged for Dean, I felt another hand grab my arm. I spun and came toe-to-toe with Sam who was quietly beckoning for me to follow him whilst the vampire was distracted. We left the room quietly, running down corridors, twisting and turning and falling through one of the side doors I had unlocked earlier in the night and out into the fresh air. I took a few deep breaths, not realising how much the metallic scent of blood had filled my nostrils.

“Sam what about Dean?! We can't just leave him behind he-”

Sam laughed softly.

“If you want a vamp dead, Dean will always come out on top. He'll be just fine.”

Sam helped me to my feet, looking down at me, his gaze turning from reassuring to questionable. I sighed, weariness starting to settle into my bones.

“I know, I know. I can explain it all later,” I said, starting to shuffle back to the impala, seeking the comfort of its plush leather seats.

“What? No, (Y/n) you don’t owe me an explanation if you don’t want to. I just want to know if you’re ok?”

I stopped and looked up at him, and something about the kindness of his voice and the concern in his eyes had me falling to my knees, my body heaving out a sob. Then another. And another. Until I couldn’t stop for air and hot tears washed my makeup down my face and my hair stuck to the streaks they left behind. Sam simply crouched down and pulled me into him, rubbing my back and telling me softly that everything will be ok. It was a comfort to feel his chin on my head and his heartbeat beneath my fingertips, the steady thrum eventually soothing away my anguish.

I have no idea how long we were sat there for, but he eventually coaxed me to my feet and led me to the car where Charlie was waiting with a pained expression. She would have seen, or at least heard everything that went down through the security cameras linked to her tablet - she was one of the few people in this life that had met my ex.

I was gently manoeuvred into the back seat, my head resting on Charlie's lap as she played with my hair. Sam had waited outside the impala for a few minutes before climbing into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed. Not five minutes had passed when the door slammed again as Dean clambered in, the stench of blood thick on his clothes, however the comforting scent of his cologne still managed to waft through. He turned to face me, those mossy green eyes piercing into mine as he said with the gentlest tone he could muster:

“It’s done, sweetheart.”

——————————————————————

Next: Chapter 12

——————————————————————

@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[toxicanonymity]

Can I request a fic where Reader’s parents were recently killed and she has to look after her younger siblings. She needs to find a way to earn money so she is forced to become a prostitute/sex worker. Only thing is she is a virgin. And guess who takes her virginity as part of the job? (Joel!). Not sure how you can make it dark, but that’s up to you!

virgin sex worker

<1k words | joel x f!reader | masterlist

18+ virginity loss, unsafe PIV sex, bj, Joel talks you through the whole thing. Post-outbreak.

"Call me Joel," the john says.

"It's my first time," you tell him.

"No different from doin' it with a boyfriend," he reassures you as he unzips his pants.

"No, I've never. . . It's my first time, ever."

He looks stunned but not put off. "Why ya doin' this?"

"It's really none of your business, I'm not gonna justify myself to you."

"Why me then? Lotta men would pay top dollar for a virgin."

"You're a regular, right? The other girls said you'd be good for my first time. Nice and gentle?"

"Whew, that ain't me, baby," he laughs. "Must be their sick idea of hazing the new girl. . . Must want me to break ya in reeeal good."

Your face goes cold and your eyes prickle with tears.

"Don't worry baby, I can try my best . . . c’mere, let’s see what we’re workin’ with.” He pats the bed. “Bend over for me.” He takes off his jeans.

You bend over with your ass in the air. He lifts up your skirt and pulls down your panties. "Mmm now that's a nice lookin' pussy."

He strokes it but you aren’t wet. He puts his hands on your waist then asks “ok if I move ya'round and shit?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer.

He somewhat roughly throws you on your back. “Was that okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“I’m gonna make it so it feels better for ya, k?” He takes your panties all the way off then puts his head between your legs. His tongue on your clit turns you on right away. He kisses, licks, and sucks at your pussy, always returning to your clit. You moan in pleasure, then he sticks a finger in.

“Good girl, now we’re in business.” He slowly pumps that one finger as he keeps pleasuring you with his mouth. Then he sticks another finger in. He grunts in satisfaction as he pulls his mouth away, and looks up at you from between your thighs. “Nobody ever been in here?”

“No, only toys.”

His eyebrows shoot up, “Well good, that means you prolly won’t bleed too much.

He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, then curls them. It’s quite a stretch, but still pleasant. After awhile, Joel sits up and gives you a little smile, thumbing your clit one last time as his fingers slide out.

“Alright, we’re warmed up, ready to go,” Joel says while palming himself over his boxers. “You wanna give it a kiss first, get to know it?”

You sit up, then bend over again so your head is at dick-level with him standing next to the old, dirty bed. His hard cock intimidates you but also sends a pang of arousal between your legs. You wrap your hand around it and he sighs. You put your lips around the head and he says “Yeah, attagirl.” When you begin to suck, he gives a low whistle. “Damn, you suck a good cock.”

You’ve done your research.

“Alright now.” You take your head off his cock and wait for his instructions. He sits on the bed with his back against the headboard. “How bout ya just come on up here.” He pats his lap. “Take it how you want it, and I’ll try not to interfere.”

You slowly straddle him and hover over his cock. He holds it for you in one hand and watches you hungrily. He fingers you again with his free hand, then urges you closer, pulling you by your ass. He aligns his tip at your entrance, then you slowly sink onto it. In a way, it feels amazing, but It’s a major stretch and also hurts. You wince. He breathes heavily, trying to control himself.

“Ok if I help?” he asks and you nod. His hands come to your hips and gently press down. You gasp and your face screws up.

“Sometimes ya gotta rip the bandaid off. want me to do that for ya, baby?”

You’re nervous but you don’t think you can go any further without more help.

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Attagirl,” he says. His large hands pull you down hard on his cock and he grunts loudly. You gasp at the intrusion. It feels like he’s inhabiting most of your body. He thrusts up into you and you gasp again. It hurts, but not in a very bad way.

Then, he sits more upright and puts you on your back. He pulls out most of the way, then slams his cock into you and you both grunt as the force pushes you down the bed. He begins to really fuck you. “Tell me if it hurts,” he says and you nod. His face darkens, then he pounds into you repeatedly. It hurts, but not bad enough to say it. The feeling of being filled by him outweighs the pain.

After a few minutes, he says he’s about to come. “Wanna see how it tastes?”

“Yeah,” you say as he pulls out. He straddles you and walks on his knees up to your armpits, leans forward, and you lift your neck to accept him into your mouth. Then he groans and pulses into your mouth.

It's salty and a little tart.

"Good girl," Joel whispers as you take the last of his load. He gets dressed while you freshen up. He's sitting on the bed in his jeans when you come out.

"You're still here?" You ask.

"Yeah, you good?"

You nod.

"Can I give ya'a hug?"

You hug goodbye and the taste lingers in your mouth all day.

-

------

This was a quick one from the ask cellar. Ty for reading!

-

[randomyuu]

so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness) [1/4]

Ah, yes. The fic that made me realise I’m in desperate need of Cursed Spirit Gojou in my ever-growing favourite GoYuu tropes.

Content Warning!

Major Character Death. Other characters are disrespectful to the corpse.

I highly suggest you read the fic first, or just the fic, since I don’t think I was properly able to adapt it into drawings. While I managed to use roughly two weeks of on-and-off planning, researching, and storyboarding, I only had a full week to finish it. You can read more of my thoughts below the comic if you’re curious.

Title: so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness)

Author: qalb_al_louz

It’s ongoing, and as of this drawing, the fic is in its third chapter. While this is (sexually) SFW, always be mindful of the tags! Please keep yourself safe and sound.

Please read from right to left, and enjoy!

You can only upload 30 images in one post, huh Damn, I gotta divide it into parts

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Alrighty, I'll put my watered down unhinged thoughts below. No extra drawings down there if you're curious haha (unless you want to see the storyboard and the characters' full body character sheet, lemme know). You can skip the stuff underneath the Keep Reading for all parts.

This fic had me grinning from ear to ear every time I read this. The atmosphere, how it goes from POV to POV—of pure fear and panic—and the peak excitement I got when Yuuji properly meets Gojou, like brooooo 😭

Gosh I cannot emphasise how much I love this fic. I’ve always been wanting to make a whole comic out of it, especially since it was 2 chapters and it doesn’t look like the author will update it, but it just… kind of forgotten ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

But then the author posted a new chapter and I told myself this is a sign I should really start.

also goddamn I was so naive to think I can tackle 2 chapters as comic—no I was in fact cannot

The moment I laid my eyes on the first paragraph, things were portrayed very vividly in my mind. The panel, the angle, Gojou's head rolling down... I was like, hell yeah. Then I continued reading and I finally succumbed to my desire to draw this out.

At first I want to adapt this into a vertical format like those manhwas. However the longer I try to learn and storyboard it... I am simply not yet comfortable with it, especially for such a big project. Even the 1st storyboard starts vaguely vertical before the panels quickly crammed into that B4-B5 format lol. The first sketch estimated 69 (heh) pages for 90% of chapter 1. I said "no" for my own sanity and fully focused on the usual manga format and it was narrowed down to 60. Still a lot though, quantity and time-wise. So with a heavy heart, I can only do the majority of chapter 1 :”) I really really want to draw Sukuna talks back to Gojou—do you have any idea how good that scene was??? Gojou tried so hard to restrain himself, he’s so other I love him 😭

Due to the sheer length of this comic (I'm still in disbelief), I have limit lots of things, and that includes the drawing. If you've seen my other JJK fanarts, they are more rendered than this one. Well, this one is purely sketched with the help of the eraser to tidy up some lines. This is also the first fanart that I did purely on Photoshop, so I can control the typesets and drawings in one place. Usually, I use Photoshop for panels and typesetting and Krita for drawing.

I don't really like Photoshop's brush, but it did really well in curbing my perfectionist tendencies, so that's good.

It's also been quite a while since I draw in general (sobs) so... yeah, you might find differences, or not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

I know setting is important, but maaan I genuinely won't miss rereading chapter 83-93 with a heavy focus on background and character locations. I just want to read the action and dialogue😭 However continuity is really important. But my spatial intelligence is almost non-existent even GPS sometimes can't help me. All I'm saying is that if you find some silly drawing mistakes, do forgive me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿I only drew all this in a week because otherwise I won't have another chance to complete this.

Well, lots of things I won't miss from this project, but haha let's talk about the characters instead because holy shit what was I thinking, starting this year drawing this many characters in the same project??? I have never drawn anyone here except for Yuuji, Gojou, Nanami and Megumi. I don't think I've ever drawn older Getou before. I already forgot how to draw my boy Yuuji and I gotta draw all these people???

This is what you call making a bad decision, kids. Don't do your "drawing warmup" after months of not drawing and tackling a project of a scale way bigger than you've ever tackled before.

Thank you for reading this far! I hope you find my complaint entertaining! But make no mistake, I genuinely still love the fic. Drawing this, even with all the headaches it gave me, only makes me adore this fic even more.

Thank you very much to each one of you who follows and leaves comments and tags on my silly art—it never failed to make my day :D And I sincerely wish this one also made your day or even made your minute! I'll see you in the next part!

[skellseerwriting]

Paper Kisses Part 3

March x Gn!Reader

5 times you and March share an indirect kiss, and 1 time it wasn’t

Part 1

Word Count: 1K

Content & Warnings: Faux kisses via passing a piece of paper with your lips, Some Reina/Adeline and Ryis/March if you squint really hard (becuase of the faux kisses), I put effort into describing where everyone is sitting at the table but it’s honestly not important

Summary: You’re at the inn to play some bachelor/ette games, and end up starting one with March sitting next to you…

“Why can’t I play with you guys?” Maple whined as Reina ushered her away from the table.

“We’re going to be playing an adult game. It’s very boring, okay?” Reina told her younger sister, who pouted with a “humph!” as she crossed her arms and walked over to the stairs to meet Luc and Dell on the second floor.

“If it’s boring, then why are we playing it?” March asked, and you had to avoid the urge to elbow him from where you sat in the chair next to him. It’s not that you wanted to sit by  him. Your tasks that day had kept you busy, so you arrived later than everyone else, and there was only one seat left at the square table that held two people on each side. “What are we even playing anyways?”

You opened your mouth to chastise his rude behavior, but Ryis (who was sitting right next to March on a different side of the table) spoke up first.

“C’mon March, Adeline always has fun ideas! Don’t dismiss it until you try it.”

Huffing, Marching crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair. The action flexed the muscles in his arms and shoulders; the latter of which recently became visible in the tank top he had changed into for the summer.

Trying to diffuse the growing heat in your face, you turned back to Adeline, who was nodding proudly.

“Thank you Ryis. I’ve recently been researching for bachelor and bachelorette games that other towns play; including some my grandmother grew up playing. These games are devised for young, single people to get to know one another and help open up romantic opportunities for them.” Adeline smiled as she finished her explanation, sitting down across from you and one to the right; laying her hand on a thick notebook.

“Sounds fun!” You said, trying to cheer her on by showing some enthusiasm (as not everyone was so enthralled).

“What game will we be starting with?” Celine chirped in, sitting two seats to your left; next to Balor who was right across your side of the corner.

Straightening her posture, Adeline grabbed something from within her book.

“I thought we might start with something simple, to help take the pressure off.” You leaned over the table to get a better look at what she was doing. “It’s one my grandmother has told me many stories about.” She was holding a small piece of paper, barely two inches of length in each direction. “The game is simple: we pass this around with our lips.”

You heard someone start choking to your right. March had been taking a drink of his beer while Adeline said that last part.

“Excuse me?” He asked, bewildered and trying to hack the liquid out of his throat. To your left, Balor spoke up jovially; thumb and finger against his chin.

“Don’t worry March, it’s quite normal to be intimidated by such games. I myself am quite used to my fair share of terrifying ware sellers, but we mustn’t be scared-“

“I’m not scared-“ he said stubbornly, wiping his chin and neck with a cloth napkin. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Without any further complaints, it was set in motion.

Adeline began; explaining the rules and demonstrating how to keep the paper from falling from your mouth by suctioning it. Then, with ease, she passed it along to Reina, who began giggling at the mock kiss she and Adeline were sharing and failed to catch the square paper. Adeline caught it before it hit the floor, and a new round started with Reina sitting out.

As Adeline began again (this time in Reina’s seat), you noticed how March seemed to look about the whole ordeal.

A tiny bit of perspiration dotted his temple, and he gulped while his eyebrows started to knit together.

This time Adeline dropped it before she could even pass it on to Ryis.

“Guess it’s my turn to start.” He said, turning in his chair to face March at an angle.

“It’s harder than it looks.” Adeline admitted.

Except, the small paper covering Ryis’s lips was steady, and as he leaned farther over the table corner to reach March, an ill feeling grew in your stomach when he inevitably pressed his mouth against his. Before you had the chance to process it, March managed to suction the thin square to his mouth and was turning towards you.

Licking your dry lips, you tried to ignore the blush on his face as he leaned closer into yours. You kept your sight on the paper, but really, all you could think about was the mouth that was under it; for whatever reason.

And then March hesitated.

So, not wanting to ruin your chance at winning the game, you brought your hand to the back of his head, pushed his mouth against yours, and pressed your lips flush against his; sans the thin paper in between them.

Unfortunately, he immediately pulled back; jerking out of your hold.

The paper fell from your lips before you had the chance to hold onto it.

The wooden legs of March’s chair skidded back as he stood up suddenly.

“I- I have to go.” He sounded out of breath, face red like he had just run a marathon.

And then he was out of the inn.

The table was silent.

You were blinking, trying to process what had just happened, and why it happened. He had been acting weird even a bit before that, but what had caused it? Was he okay?

Adding to the silence, a fog of confusion clouded the area.

“So who’s out?” Balor asked.

“Oh I don’t know…” Adeline fussed. “It’s not even in the original game. I just thought elimination would be fun.”

Turning back to her, you suggested you play a different game; mind still distracted and swimming with questions.

As you spent the rest of the evening having fun with the bachelors and bachelorettes around you, a small worry continuously pricked the back of your mind. Something about the way March reacted to your action kept sticking out to you, but you could never figure out why.

You just hoped things didn’t change between you two.

Taglist: March FoM

@itsabea @theloserqueen @moonfiresonorant @turdofanerd @mariusvonhangme

@susanatactica @anomiatartle @apric-t @starsdrawnpastel

@smoochi-march @thatonenewjerseychick

[pagannatural]

2.04 Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things

-“Yeah right—stuck with those people making awkward small talk until you show up? No thanks”

Clingy Dean is my favorite. He’s going through a hard time and he only wants to be around his Emotional Support Sammy

-At the hotel, Sam does that thing he does where he tells Dean he can see through him and he knows that he’s feeling some type of way about their dad’s death. This is a common romance trope. He knows Dean so so well.

-Every single episode now Sam has pushed Dean to talk to him. I wonder if he suspects that there is more to it than grief for Dean.

-It’s so interesting how their different ways of caring for each other come out—in s1 Dean was always worried about Sam because he’d just lost Jessica. He was patient with Sam and didn’t push him, but it was clear he was noting how much he ate and slept, and he did things like letting Sam sleep while he researched or offering food or letting him drive or putting on music he likes to doze to. Sam needs that respectful caregiving. Sam, however, is relentless when he sees that Dean is suffering and won’t let Dean ignore it. Dean needs that so that he can’t lie or turn away.

-Dean finally looks at Sam head-on after evading him the whole conversation, and Sam kind of draws back. Not fearfully, more like when the person you’re walking with suddenly stops so you do too.

-Sam says “you wanna take another swing? Go ahead, if it’ll make you feel better.” He sounds a little bratty, almost condescending. Like, You wanna do it again since you loved it so much? Since you felt so good after? (Dean didn’t.)

Underneath that, though…there’s softness, like Sam really would let Dean hit him again. He needs Dean to give him something. That punch in the face just didn’t last and he’s desperate.

Dean leaves and I think he’s feeling pretty exposed right now. He’s a liar and his lies don’t work on Sam.

-Sam is a kicked puppy when Dean leaves him. He looks much more devastated here than he did after Dean punched him and walked away. At least when he punched him he didn’t ask to be alone after.

Sam is so worried about Dean. His expression is pleading.

-When Dean comes back, Sam is watching something called “casa erotica 4.” He’s watching it with what looks like scholarly interest, or like he’s trying to figure out the plot from the first three movies he missed. Did he think maybe erotica would make him feel less sad about Dean? Evidently it’s pay per view so Sam had to have actually sought this out. He hasn’t done more than kiss anyone since Jessica died, so maybe this is meant to remind the viewer that he’s horny. So to recount, this episode he’s horny and he’s pleading desperately with Dean for something. I’m just contextualizing.

-Sam says “where the hell were you?” which is something an angry girlfriend would say.

-Dean is very indignant that Sam thought he was wrong about the case. Dean was right, and tells Sam he does actually know how to do his job. Sam used to openly look up to him so of course this is important to him, that Sam still thinks he’s capable.

-Their fights are just SO good. Sam is yelling at Dean that he’s scary and erratic and if this hadn’t been a case “you would’ve just found something else to kill” which gets Dean’s attention. Last episode he basically told Sam that he needs him to keep him from his violent impulses, from just being a killer. Dean walks away again until Sam says “Please—Dean—it’s killing you. Please.” I wonder if Sam says “please” to Dean like this only when he really, really needs him to listen because he knows that it works. Dean finally stops and looks at him, almost reproachfully. His kryptonite.

The fact that Dean feeling unhappy is such an issue for Sam that he’s fighting and begging and asking to be punched makes me want to hurl myself into the sun. He REALLY needs Dean to be okay. If Dean ever tried to pull away from him when they were kids, or ever seemed like he was refusing to talk about something bothering him, Sam must have lost his damn mind. And that’s exactly how Dean would’ve coped with feelings for Sam.

-Sam says they’ve already lost their parents. He says “I’ve lost Jessica. And now I’m gonna lose you too?”

If someone said to you “I’ve already lost my girlfriend. And now I’m going to lose you too?” It would probably feel like you were in a similar role to their girlfriend.

It’s also wild that Sam is comparing their parents’ and his girlfriend’s horrific and violent deaths with Dean just simply not talking about his pain. Like, Jessica burned to a crisp on my ceiling and now this? Emotional distance when I’m sad?

-The way Sam nods when Dean says “I’m being an ass and I’m sorry” is very baby brother. It’s similar to the way he nods when Dean asks him if he’s hungry when he comes back from the dead, just more cross.

-Dean tells him “I hear you” but right now they have a zombie to catch, and he starts walking, leaving Sam crestfallen.

-Dean thinks that Angela’s description of Neal being a shoulder to cry on and understanding what she’s going through sounds like Neal is in “unrequited ducky love” with her and your honor that’s exactly how Sam is treating Dean in this very episode, if only Dean would accept his shoulder.

-Dean says the following while making uninterrupted eye contact with Sam:

Okay!

-Sam tells Dean his plan was “pretty sharp” so now Dean can stop worrying that Sam doesn’t think he’s good at hunting

-Episode theme is “what’s dead should stay dead.”

Dean eventually pulls over and gets out of the car to tell Sam they both know John traded his life for Dean’s. Dean thinks he should be dead and that Sam thinks so too.

This conversation is heartbreaking because Dean asks what Sam could possibly say to make it alright, and when Sam struggles with something but doesn’t speak, Dean seems to take this as him agreeing.

Sam clearly doesn’t agree that Dean should be dead or blaming himself. Sam looks frustrated and worried and upset that Dean could even think that. For one thing Sam just sees things differently and probably hasn’t bothered questioning John’s death very much, and for another Sam chose Dean over John so many times that we can safely assume he’s at peace with this exchange. But he couldn’t possibly say anything right now to make Dean understand, so he just listens.

-Dean’s guilt over John dying for him weighs heavily, and keeping things from Sam is slowly ripping him apart. It will be important in later episodes that Dean struggles so much to keep anything from Sam.

-The way Sam looks at Dean here. He loves him so much. He looks resolute, and I wonder if he’s thinking that he’s going to show Dean he wants him and doesn’t blame him.

[wayfayrr]

aaaaaaahhh all i can think of is like- most isekai fics I've seen for some reason [i mean understandably] the reader is wearing their pajamas, but after visiting the modern world they can finally show the chain what they actually like wearing, [i can see this going in so many ways, depending on who is reacting, and especially depending on what aesthetic the reader likes to dress in. for the sake of the request ill keep it as dark academia, cause i love it so muchhhh [not so much in the summer, but i make it work lol] with time? [just imagining reader with a tie and just wearing business casual w a trenchcoat frrrrrrrr- might draw this kind of thing and send it to you lol]

Anon I hope you know this ask had me in an absolute chokehold. OUJDFNBJNF ✨I LIVE FOR DARK ACADEMIA AESTHETICS!!!✨ My trenchcoat is one of my favourite things I own. So I get your pain in summer as well 🥹

“Hey Time, have you seen Wild anywhere? He borrowed my laptop and I really need it back.”

“I haven’t sorry [nam]-... Is that what you wear normally? You look incredible.”

“Pretty much, yeah? Why, is there an issue with it?”

Time’s blushing. Is what I’m wearing really that impressive because I know he’s not blushing over what I’m wearing being revealing. A trenchcoat that goes down to my calves with the rest of my clothes? Does he just think I’m attractive or something? 

“No, no issue. You look good in it, it’s just very different to what you arrived in Hyrule wearing.”

“I know, like I said then those were my pyjamas. These are my casual clothes.”

Well, his blush has only gotten worse from that, so he is clearly struggling with how my clothes look on me. Dark academia doesn’t exist in Hyrule I know that, but really he’s struggling far more than anyone else has with my fashion sense. 

“Do you think you could help me choose some clothes like that? I’d like to match wit.. I think that style would suit me.”

“If you’d like, we can go shopping for you later. After I get my laptop back and finish off this report I have due.”

Laughing at how he's stumbling over himself to ask me these questions simply isn't an option, no matter how hard it is to hold myself back. He's asking so genuinely and so sweetly and who knows maybe getting some new clothes could help him adjust to this world more easily, I mean it certainly helped me when I was in Hyrule. How different could it be for time?

It didn't take too long to find wild after talking to time, and even less to finish off the work I had to do, now it’s just down to taking time shopping.

“So you want to look like you belong with a shot of espresso in an artisanal coffee shop while writing a research paper?”

“I only know what half of those words mean [name.], even less with how you’re using them.”

“Right, sorry. I’m still getting used to all of the differences in our cultures. Hopefully, you’ll get more used to the terms we use here sooner rather than later. Ready to go out though?”

“I am, it’ll be nice to get some new clothes. Not that I’m complaining about the excuse to wear yours.”

The nearest place that sells things like these isn’t exactly the closest to where I live, making it the perfect opportunity to adjust Time to my world’s transport. Well, more than he’s already seen anyway. Actually, now that I’m thinking about this, what size clothing even is he? Not that it’s an issue but not knowing a vague size is gonna mean he’s going to have to try on a lot of different fits. Then finding the right colours for him is a whole different challenge… And we’re already here… Time to find out the answers to those questions of mine.

“Where would you like to start?”

“A coat exactly like yours perhaps?”

“I don’t see why not. Any colour in mind or just the same style?”

A shrug was NOT what I wanted as an answer, but he does know what he wants which means that I’ve got somewhere to start. Trench Coats are somewhat pricey but with how some of the others are chipping in towards living costs now there’s no issue with spending out occasionally. He seems to be gravitating more towards things that are similar to mine, isn’t that charming? He sees something he likes on me then decides that’s what he wants for himself hopefully, he just stays away from the expensive ones. 

“You ready to try those on then, old man?”

“Just a moment more love, I can’t find quite the right colour yet.”

He just… How red is my face right now? It has to be crimson, doesn’t it? That’s the first time Time’s ever called me something like that naturally it’s when he’s looking at clothes like my own, is he trying to kill me with his charms?

[sodaabaa]

boss

jason todd x reader reader is eager to work with the redhood, he's not so thrilled about it.

“GCPD’s got a suspect for the Red Hood, thought you’d be interested.” 

I almost lost my shit. For months I’ve been tracking the Red Hood, fascinated by his methods to deter crime in Gotham... which is near impossible but he somehow managed to do it. 

“Stop lying.” I said to Cindy, one of the forensic scientists at the GCPD, my inside source, also my best friend. 

“I heard it was a tip from some anonymous caller. Called the hotline and gave the name ‘Jason Todd,’ swearing he was the Red Hood.” 

“I’ll be there in ten.” I replied and hung up the phone. 

I rushed to my small closet, stumbling over the clutter of the studio apartment. Being a rookie lawyer left me no time to clean, cook, or do anything outside of researching cases and being the firm’s errand girl. 

I grabbed my nicest pant suit, a navy blue suit and a silky white undershirt. I brushed through my hair as fast as I could and then grabbed my briefcase, bolting out the front door. I was finally gonna meet him. 

“What are you doing here, you’re not allowed back here.” 

I looked behind me where a cop stood, probably the one who made the arrest.

“I’m his attorney.” I lied.

“He didn’t ask for no lawyer.” He said gruffly.

“Well I’m here and he’s my client. I’d like to speak with him.” I held my ground. I was not about to let a beat cop rob me of my chance to meet Gotham’s most notorious vigilante.

The cop rolled his eyes but unlocked the door regardless. 

“You’ve got twenty minutes.” 

“Actually, since there isn’t much evidence, you’ve got only 48 hours to keep him here.” 

The cop didn’t say anything, I gave him a sly smile and braced myself before walking into the dreary room.

The door closed behind me, the man sitting in the chair didn’t even blink.

I took a seat in front of him and almost passed out from the sight of him. His hair was jet black with the exception of a small streak of white that fell in front of his deep blue eyes. His clenched jaw was strong and lips plump. Fading scars peppered his forehead and neck. His large, callused hands were handcuffed in front of him. 

He looked straight at me and it was an effort not to sink into my seat.

“Who are you?” His voice was harsh, deep like he’d just smoked a pack of cigarettes. 

“I’m your knight in shining armor.”

“...Or knight in a navy blue paint suit more like.” I joked, trying to ease the tension. 

I was met with the ever so slight curve of his lips. I’ll take it.

“I didn’t ask for a lawyer.” He replied, tilting his head to the side.

“Well now you’ve got one. I intend to keep you out of Blackgate so work with me.” 

“Why.” Not a question, a demand.

“Because you’re not a bad guy, despite what those morons out there think.” I replied earnestly.

Another smirk, accompanied with a spark in his eyes. 

“Go over the details of your arrest with me.” I said.

So we did, he told me how he got arrested and even gave an alibi for what he was doing last night when Red Hood was out. If he had an alibi, was this even the right guy? 

After going over everything, I left the room to talk with the cops who arrested him and the cops who got the tip. They still had no evidence which gave me the leeway I needed to get him out of here.

“Well detective, you don’t even have reasonable doubt let alone hard evidence. I’d like you to release my client. He’s clearly not the man you’re looking for.” I concluded.

Begrudgingly, the detective did as I asked. He gave me the handcuff keys and I thanked him for his time. 

I walked into the interrogation room with a considerable amount of pep in my step. As I walked in, I dropped the keys on the table in front of him. 

“You’re welcome.” I sang.

He looked at me through his brows and slipped his hands out of the handcuffs before I could even blink. He didn’t even look at the cuffs.

My mouth gaped but before I could say anything he got up and I stepped back, shocked at the size difference between the two of us. My average-leaning-on-small figure was dwarfed by his broad shoulders and chest, he was well over six feet. He rolled his shoulders, I had to keep myself from shuddering. I hadn’t expected this.

“Thank you” was all he said before he left the room. 

Snapping out of my daze I ran after him. By the time I got to the main lobby of the precinct, he was already gone. I ran (more like speed walked) through the people, reaching for the door and bolting outside.

I spotted him walking a few feet away.

“Hey!” I yelled. He didn’t turn.

I sprinted to get to him, “hey!” 

He stopped, sighed, and turned around.

“What?” 

“What?” I mocked. 

“I just saved your ass from going to jail and you just leave like that?” 

“What do you want.” He said, clearly annoyed.

“What I want, is to work with you. Partners. Ever since you took control of the crime ring, crime rates have plummeted and I want to help you.” I explained.

“No.” He said, making to walk away again before I grabbed his arm.

He looked down at where I had grabbed him and then back to me.

“Are you really him?” I asked.

He said nothing, but his eyes darting back to the precinct behind us gave me all the answer I needed. 

“Let me help you.” “I don’t need help.”

“You clearly did today.”

“They weren’t gonna arrest me, no evidence. I didn’t need a lawyer to explain that.” I huffed, looking up at him. “Let me be your partner.” “I work alone.” 

“‘I work alone’” I mocked. 

“Stay away from me.” He ordered.

I opened my mouth to protest again but he leaned towards me, pointing a finger in my face, “I mean it.” 

Then he turned and walked away. I was left standing on the gloomy streets of Gotham. But I’m not going to give up, I won’t stay away.

I dressed in all black, covered up from prying eyes, an attempt to blend into the night to avoid unwanted attention. The cold night air kissed my face as I walked through the neighborhood, using my phone to navigate towards Red Hood’s base. 

I miraculously made it to the area, peering over a dusty brick wall trying to avoid being seen. He wasn’t here, probably patrolling the surrounding area. 

Before I could move, a grimy hand covered my mouth and I started thrashing around.

“Boss is gonna love this one.” A thin accented voice said behind me. My eyes widened, so not only was there two grimy men grabbing hold of me, but they were also going to take me to some “boss.” I silently prayed, please don’t let me die like this, I’m a decent person, I swear I’ll be better. 

I kept thrashing around to no avail, what did I get myself into? 

One held me back while the other put a sack over my head and then the one holding me threw me over his shoulder all while I tried my hardest to fight back, kicking, punching, and screaming. 

I was thrown onto the ground and the sack was lifted off my head, but not before the two men tied my hands behind my back and my legs together in front of me. “What the hell do you want?” I yelled. 

The men merely stepped away and called someone, their “boss” probably. 

I kept trying to get out of the ropes, occasionally stopping to scream and threaten the men. 

I don’t know how much time passed before I heard footsteps behind me. I tensed up. This is really how I’m gonna die. 

I curled my knees into my chest and tucked my head in, trying to protect vital organs and my face in the case that this boss guy was gonna kick me to death.

The footsteps started again, and I lifted just my eyes to see the clunky leather boots stopped in front of me. 

“We caught her snoopin’ around the corner boss, what do you wanna do with her?” One of the men said.

He crouched down, I didn’t think it was possible to tense my entire body anymore. 

I flinched when my chin was met with cold, hard metal. My eyes widened, it was a gun. He used it to lift my chin, my eyes meeting the man in front of me. 

I let out the biggest sigh I’ve ever let out as my body relaxed. 

“It’s just you.” I said, letting my body slump against the wall. 

He turned his head to the men behind him, “get out of my sight, if you pull this shit again I’ll cut pry your eyes out of your empty heads and feed them to you.” His voice was colder than the metal of the gun. 

The men stuttered over apologies and stumbled out of the room.

The Red Hood didn’t untie me though, he merely crouched before me and cocked his head to the side. 

“Are you insane? Do you know what kind of people live in this area? You’re lucky it was my guys who took you and not some rapist creep.” His words were harsh, his voice dark. 

I smiled sheepishly and shrugged, “I told you I want to work with you. I meant it.” 

He shook his head,  “You are insane” he said, but I could hear a twinge of amusement in his voice.

“Do you mind untying me?” I gave him an innocent look, gesturing to the ropes at my ankles.

He leaned in close, his masked face inches away from mine. An arm made its way around my body and with a swift slice of a knife, he cut the ropes binding me. He repeated the same to the ropes around my ankles. He stood up and then leaned over, wrapping a gloved hand around my arm and yanking me up. 

I yelped at the sudden movement but his hand was firm around my upper arm as he turned me to face him. I stumbled but he kept me upright.

“Why do you want to work with me so desperately?” 

“You’re the only one who truly fights for those less fortunate. The system is corrupted from the inside and frankly, the other vigilantes in Gotham aren’t any better at preventing people from getting hurt.” I said, glancing at the bat insignia on his chest.

He seemed to understand the look and paused before saying, “why do you care?” 

A lump formed in my throat, I swallowed. “I was...hurt. By someone, someone with the money and resources to keep my voice stifled. Seven months ago, you killed him. But not before making sure he suffered like all of his victims. You did what the police, what the courts, couldn’t.” 

The hand that was still around my arm lightened its grip. 

“Who?” His voice softened but I could hear the anger.

“James Holder.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

He cursed, removing his hand from my arm.

“What could you possibly help me with?” He asked.

I looked up at him, a smile forming on my lips as I replied, “I have contacts in the GCPD as well as the D.A’s office, I can get you up to date information on anyone who’s hurting people. I know my way around computers and I can protect you from the GCPD. Let me help you, I won’t let you down.” 

He considered for a moment. “Can you handle it? I’m not Batman, I kill and maim and torture. I have no tolerance for anyone who hurts innocent people. If that scares you-” “It doesn’t, I can handle it. I promise.” I cut in before he could finish. 

I could practically feel his eye roll behind that bucket of a mask.

“Fine. But don’t get in my way, you supply information, communicate with me while I patrol and you stay out of danger’s way do you understand me?” 

I hopped up in excitement and clapped my hands, “yes, yes I understand! Thank you, thank you!” I squealed. 

He let out a breath that I assume was a laugh as he shook his head, muttering to himself, she’s crazy.

Honestly, I think he’s right.

He took his helmet-mask off, ruffling a gloved hand through his hair. 

“When do I start boss? And where exactly am I going to work from?” 

He gave me a pointed look, “don’t call me boss. Jason will do.”

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 4

‘No, no, this is unacceptable.’ Smith exclaimed in a meeting in the hanger.

     Optimus Prime stood in his usual spot in the centre, Lennox right beside me on the balcony at eye level to the Autobot, and a screen displaying the people responsible for making sure the official Plan A succeeded. There seemed to be a shared knowledge that it would fail, and more reliance was being put onto my plan.

     ‘You’re supposed to be finding a way to blow a hole in that ship, not planning to scale it yourself.’ Smith argued more firmly. ‘We gave you a list of perfectly suitable candidates, men who are trained to handle the type of mission you have proposed and now you’re telling us the world’s best athletes are not good enough, but you, a scientist who has never seen a day of hard exercise in her life, can. This is outrageous.’

     The room was quiet, I felt my fear seeping in, he might have been right, but I didn’t want him to know that.

     ‘Someone would need to train you.’ Colonel Morshower said from one of the screens.

     ‘I’ll take that responsibility, sir.’ Lennox stepped forward.

     ‘I thought you might.’ He nodded.

     ‘Now, hang on a minute.’ Smith interrupted. ‘You’re not seriously considering placing the fate of the world in the hands of a scientist, who quite frankly doesn’t even look old enough to have graduated college.’

     ‘I thought it was my physical capabilities and not my superior intelligence up for debate, Mr Smith.’ I shot, tired of the arguing, I just wanted to get started with my training.

     ‘You’re on thin ice, young lady, I’d suggest keeping your opinions to yourself.’ Smith growled.

     ‘And I would suggest you keep your outrage in check.’ Optimus suddenly spoke, startling Smith. ‘Dr Harding is our nominated candidate as well. She has far more to offer than your small mind can see. I will not ask any other to make the climb.’

     ‘You’re not serious?’ Smith scoffed.

     ‘Dr Harding, if your council is agreement, then every Autobot under my command is at your service to ensure you complete your mission. Whatever is needed, you shall have it.’

     ‘Thank you.’ I breathed, knowing with Optimus Prime in my corner, I couldn’t fail.

     ‘And what if she asks for technology? You would entrust a single human being with your weapons-‘ Smith went on.

      ‘I wouldn’t ask.’ I snapped, feeling the bravery that Optimus and Lennox had put in me. ‘That’s the difference, Mr Smith. I’m self-aware enough to know that I may be liable to abuse such technology, so I would never ask. If I did, I would only prove myself unworthy of their trust.’

     The room was quiet again and everyone was in agreement, I would make the thirty thousand foot climb and sabotage the ship that threatened to destroy Earth.

     The council agreed to swap Plan A and B around, devoting more resources to my ascent than to research into weaponry that could penetrate the ship’s hull. Lennox took me out every morning to the track to improve my stamina, I worked with Theo to try and reduce the amount I had to climb, and Optimus was familiar enough with the type of ship that he could guide me through sabotaging it from the inside.

     After the first month I found myself able to run ten circuits of the track and make the climb up the one hundred and fifty foot wall without too much trouble, but I knew I would need to push myself harder. One hundred and fifty was a fraction of what was being asked of me.

     ‘You need rest.’ Theo told me one evening while I was cycling on a machine and working on my tablet.

     ‘I need to keep pushing.’ I reasoned back. ‘I’ll never make it otherwise.’

     Theo just sighed and wandered out of the training hall, it was just as Optimus and Ironhide drove in as their transformed counterparts. Ironhide revved, before driving away. Optimus, however, remained as the blue and red truck for a moment before transforming into his natural state. I never would get used to the sight of it.

     ‘Dr Harding,’ he said, an air of disappointment in his voice. ‘You should be resting.’

     ‘So, I’ve been told.’ I sighed and got back to work.

     ‘Without rest, your body will not recover enough to make the climb.’ He reasoned.

     ‘I won’t make the climb if I don’t push my limits.’ I shot back.

     I heard him take a couple of steps before he was directly in front of me, kneeling down once again. His expression was one of someone who was not used to being disobeyed.

     ‘You must rest otherwise you will fail.’ His voice was deep and unimpressed, it was the same one he used on Smith.

     I swallowed nervously, eventually slowing down before coming to a stop.

     ‘Thank you.’ Optimus nodded, finding his composure once again. ‘Understand this, we all want you to succeed, but you must allow your body to catch up with what your mind commands.’

     I let a heavy breath go, putting my tablet down on my mobile desk and began to stretch my legs.

     ‘I know.’ I said, quietly.

     ‘Then why do you not stop when your friends ask it of you?’

     ‘Honestly? Because I’m scared.’ I admitted and felt the tears fall hard and fast. I slid onto the floor and let myself sob for a moment.

     ‘If you weren’t, then I would question your sanity.’ Optimus gently stroked the tip of his finger down my back, it felt like a whole human hand, he was just so big.

     ‘Can I ask a question?’ I turned to see his hugely complex features nodding. ‘Why did you ask for my opinion in the first place? Why didn’t you accept our presentation?’

     Optimus took his hand away, leaning on the ground. He seemed unwilling to want to answer the question.

     ‘I cannot answer your question, Dr Harding.’ He shook his head. ‘Not for lack of want, but rather lack of knowledge. I do not know what it was about you that had me so captivated that day, but it continues to intrigue me.’

     I frowned for a moment. ‘I don’t understand, you’re an Autobot, not just any Autobot, you’re Optimus Prime and I’m… I’m no one, I’m just a scientist, there’s millions of me.’

     ‘There is no one like you, of that, I am certain.’

     I swallowed again. ‘What are you telling me?’

     Optimus’s blue eyes scanned me. ‘I do not know.’

     He didn’t say anything else. Optimus transformed into the familiar truck and drove off in the same direction as Ironhide, leaving me to continue working and rest my body.

Optimus drove speedily towards the Autobot hanger, angry with himself. He transformed back into his natural form and stomped towards the open doors that looked out at the last remaining rays of light.

     ‘Didn’t go well then?’ Ironhide stepped forward where the others didn’t dare just yet.

     Optimus just grunted in response.

     ‘Look, if you like her, just tell her.’

     ‘It is not so easy, Ironhide.’ Optimus shook his head. ‘I do not understand why. Why her? Why a human?’

     ‘Can’t do anything about the heart.’ Hound spoke up. ‘It choses who it choses, we don’t often get a say in that. That’s what humans say anyway.’ He added.

     Optimus hummed in agreement once again. He thought briefly on how fragile she felt beneath his finger, he tried so hard to be careful not to put too much pressure on her body which was already feeling the effects of training so hard. Optimus couldn’t help but feel something internal groaning to touch her again, even just to talk to her for a while would have been a privilege he didn’t think he deserved.

     He hoped that Dr Harding would rest that night, she was pushing herself too hard and risking injury. If she continued the way she was going, she would almost certainly set herself back weeks and that was time they didn’t have.

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[drakeanddice]

After eight sessions of Burning Wheel, we decided that it wasn’t clicking for our table. It had a bunch of neat tech baked in, but wielding the system was not a joy for us. It felt like we could either dedicate ourselves absolutely to the infinite Swiss watch design or else abstract down toward the core resolution forever without ever doing more than scratch the surface and in general neither of those felt…y’know, good. So we decided to drop it.

Which kind of sucks. I feel a little defeated by the book. Like, I spent a not inconsiderable amount of time plumbing through the obtuse and confusing self-referential and esoteric prose, trying to get to the heart of why so many of my favorite designers cite it as a seminal work in the TTRPG field, but all I got was the feeling that the inheritors of its ideas did a lot to clean them up, sharpen them, and make them infinitely more fun to engage with.

I’m left with a feeling I’m getting pretty used to. I missed that moment when this thing was “cool.” I missed the Forge, I missed G+, and I missed Burning Wheel.

But also, I’m given to understand the Forge, like Burning Wheel, had problems, so I’m not taking it too hard.

We decided to play Mausritter this Friday. In a complete 180 from the rule-heavy interlocking gears and levers of Burning Wheel, the 300 pages of character creation, we decided to roll 3d6 3 times, and then 1d6 twice and take our little adventurer mice into the great big world to face danger and find treasure.

I’ve been having a recent problem where I play games for the wrong reasons. I’m looking for inspiration, for pilferable game design thoughts, for experiences outside of my comfort zone. I’m running games as work, as research. I’m slavishly adherent to the rules as written because I feel as though I owe that to the designer, because they clearly knew what they were doing and were doing it for a purpose. It’s a mental weight.

So I am attacking Mausritter from an entirely different angle. It’s an OSR game, very light and fast and abstracted. The rules are loose and few. It’s very minimal mental overhead. So I don’t have a lot to worry about getting “wrong” in the way that I’ve been secretly fearing I’ve been doing for Burning Wheel these past eight weeks. I’m playing this one for fun.

I’ve told my table that I need them to keep me honest. This is not work. My Friday night table is often abused as a play test group, often treated as an extension of my job as a game designer. I design games so I must play them. But this one’s just for fun. Don’t let me think to hard about it. Because I’m not in a mental state to do that right now.

We’re going to be mice. It’s going to be fun.

Anyway. I’ve done a thing I haven’t done in forever and prepped for a game. I’ve got a cool hexmap (adorable), have created some factions out in the world (portentous), named some NPCs (wholesome), and home brewed up some interesting spells and items to sprinkle around (fun as hell). I have not sat and just played DM by myself in a while. Still not something I want to do every time, but a welcome break from conducting atop a surfboard in front of a disaster wave.

I’m excited about this game. Can’t wait to report back.

[twistedminutia]

A Million and One Minutia: Nuclear Weaponry

Read the previous chapters here: Ch. 1

Gray teaches the Heartslabyul upperclassmen about nuclear power and weaponry.

The school library is where I spend a majority of my time, much to Grim’s protests. I’m not exactly sure what irritates him so much about it- maybe it’s just the principle of the thing, because he naps most of the time anyway, and it’s more comfortable than Ramshackle. Fall has set in pretty firmly, and the dorm’s walls do not keep out the chill. The library is warm, comfy, and I don’t have to worry about a leaking ceiling if it rains.

It’s also the only place on campus I can get internet access from. I don’t have money for a phone, and even if I got one for free, I can’t pay for an internet plan. Crowley hems and haws whenever the subject comes up, so I’m not holding out hope. So. Library computers it is.

Naturally, the internet itself is recognizable, but weird. Like most things here. The search engines are different, but have a similar format to what I’m used to. The websites are different, but they’re clear analogues of websites back home. It’s at least intuitive to navigate, if a little strange.

Research provides me with some details, but the more I look at, the more incomplete it feels. I can’t explain it quite right, but it feels a little like trying to read a detailed fanfic for a series of movies you haven’t seen. I can intuit a lot of it, but then a website will casually mention something I don’t know about at all and I’m completely lost again.

I’m in the middle of trying to figure out if hippogriffs are real actual animals here or just some sort of cryptid when I hear footsteps nearby. I glance up at the right moment to make eye contact with Cater, who waves enthusiastically. Trey follows his gaze and gives me a wave of his own. They pause near me, and I nod at Riddle, who’s the last member in their little group. He nods back.

“How’s it going?” Trey asks. “Ramshackle’s all right? You’re getting enough to eat and sleep?”

Ever since Trey learned that I am not of this world, he’s been subtly momming me. It’s nothing too bothersome- just frequent questions about how I’m doing, if I need anything, if I’m taking care of myself all right. Usually it’s no big deal, though I did get an impressive lecture once when I’d been in such a hurry that I hadn’t brushed my teeth when leaving Ramshackle in the morning. Apparently, anyone in a leadership position at Heartslabyul has formidable scolding abilities.

Still, it’s not like I don’t appreciate the gesture. Not least of all because Trey has been slipping me baked goods. Keeping them away from Grim so that I can get even one bite has become a full-time job.

“Everything’s fine,” I say. “Are you here to get some studying done?”

“More or less,” Trey says. “Riddle and I are trying to get a study guide set up for the exams coming up, so the freshmen will have something to follow during the study groups.”

“I’m just here to snap some Magicam pics,” Cater says, holding his phone up to get a shot of himself against one of the bookshelves. “Dark academia is super trendy right now.”

“You’re going to study for exams and set up a guide to help other people study?” I ask, ignoring Cater to level a skeptical look at Riddle and Trey. “Don’t you ever give yourselves time to rest?”

“Of course. A certain amount of rest ensures that the brain is functioning at peak level,” Riddle huffs. “I have a half an hour of leisure before bed every night. And helping other people study is shown to be one of the most effective forms of learning and retaining information.” He draws himself up, heels clicking together. “I’m going to get the class textbooks for the basic freshmen courses.”

He heads off down the rows of bookshelves, heels clacking against the ground. I share a look with Trey. “He is actually doing okay, right?” I ask.

“I’ve been making sure he doesn’t push himself too hard,” Trey says. “Cater’s been helping keep things in order too.”             “Gotta keep the housewarden happy,” Cater agrees, thumbing through the photos he’s taken. I take the opportunity to sneak a glance at Trey’s bag. It’s gotten to the point where my mouth starts watering when Trey shows up. He’s completely Pavloved me. Assuming that Pavlov is still a thing in this universe. Probably not. I wonder what classical conditioning is called here. Probably just ‘classical conditioning.’

Trey catches me staring and shakes his head. “I gave you a dozen cookies three days ago.”

“Yeah, and I live with a furry black hole,” I say, jerking a thumb toward Grim. He rolls onto his belly, mumbling something indistinct.

Trey laughs. “Well, I don’t have any food on me.”

“Even if you did, you probably shouldn’t have it out here,” Cater says, glancing deeper into the library. “Riddle’s going to be back at any moment.”

Good point. Biggest, most well-known rule ever: don’t bring food into a library. “Oh, right,” I say. “I guess Riddle would go nuclear if he saw someone eating in here.”

I thought it was a fairly reasonable thing to say, but apparently not, because both Cater and Trey swivel toward me with identical looks of bewilderment. “What?” Cater says.

Oops. Maybe making fun of the housewarden is only for the people actually under his rule. Deuce and Ace never had a problem with it- though their relationship with Riddle is often contentious and they’re perhaps not the best examples to look toward for the appropriate treatment of housewardens. I shrink down in my seat. “Uh- Y’know, was just saying that he’d be pissed if we broke a rule- I didn’t mean anything by it, really- I guess I’ve just been around Ace and Deuce and they complain about him all the time so I thought-” You’re throwing your friends under the bus, stop talking! “It wasn’t an insult toward him or anything-”

Cater waves a hand. “No, I mean, what does ‘going nuclear’ mean?”

I pause, giving time for my scrambled brain to slip back on the tracks. “Wh- going nuclear?” I glance at Trey, but he’s clearly just as mystified as Cater. “You know. Blowing your top. Going ballistic. Freaking out. He would have gotten really mad.”

“Huh,” Trey says. “I’ve never heard that one before.”             “I guess it’s not a terribly common phrase,” I say.

“Nu-cle-ar,” Cater says, rolling the word around in his mouth. “Huh. Is that another word for angry in your world?”

“No,” I say, a little caught off guard. “You don’t know what nuclear means?”

Trey shakes his head. “I just said I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Yeah, but I thought you just meant in that context, not that you didn’t know what nuclear was.” I look at Cater, but he just shakes his head at me.

“What is it?” Trey asks, settling into a computer seat next to me. Cater perks up and leans in.

“W-well, it’s-” Uh. Crap. I know what nuclear means in a very general sense, but not enough to describe it with any sort of accuracy. My first instinct would be to look it up, but I’m not sure how useful that’s going to be- if Trey and Cater haven’t even heard of it, is it something they’ve even discovered here? “Um. So. I only learned about this briefly once, so this maybe isn’t all that accurate. But I think it’s… some kind of atomic thing? Like, if something happens on an atomic level, then you get a substance that produces radioactivity, which can be really dangerous, and people use it for power and bombs and things…” I pause. Cater and Trey are just staring. “Okay, uh. Do you know what atoms are?”

Trey nods, but Cater just shrugs. “I never paid attention in science class. They’re really small, right?”

“Yeah, they’re the smallest substance. I think, if something happens to the nucleus, then you get radioactivity, which is a kind of dangerous energy that you can use for… some things, I think. X-rays are radioactive, and that’s why you have to use a lead blanket when you have them…” Cater and Trey are still staring at me like I’m speaking gibberish. In fairness, I barely understand what I’m saying. “I didn’t really pay attention in science class either, okay? I’m not very good at explaining this stuff.”             There’s the ‘click click’ of approaching heeled footsteps and Trey looks around me. “Hey, Riddle, do you know what nuclear means?”

I spin around in time to see Riddle placing a stack of books on the table next to him. He’s using magic to carry it, presumably because the stack is almost as tall as he is. It makes quite an impressive thump. “Yes. I’ve done some reading on nuclear physics, so I’m familiar with it, though I’ll admit it’s not a subject I’m all that interested in. Why?”

It figures that Riddle would casually bring up reading about nuclear physics. I bet he was reading science textbooks for fun at age six. “We were just talking about it,” I say. “I mentioned it and Cater and Trey didn’t know what it meant.”

“I’m not surprised,” Riddle says. He goes up on his tiptoes to reach some of the books at the top of the stack. His fingertips don’t quite touch the cover of the topmost book. “It’s- ugh- not a subject most people bother with.” He makes one final grab at the book, then gives up in the most dignified, I-meant-to-do-that way, and just magics it down. “I’m surprised you know about it, considering…” Riddle trails off, apparently realizing there’s no way out of that sentence that isn’t an insult. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Just. Considering.”

“Everyone knows about nuclear power where I come from. I mean, not everyone. But most people. There’s a big debate over whether or not we should use it for power right now, which freaks some people out, but-” I stop. Riddle is giving me the sort of horrified look usually reserved for when a person has a cockroach the size of a hot dog crawling up their back. “What?”

“You’re trying to use it for power generation?” he says, aghast. “Why? Nuclear materials are highly unstable and dangerous! It’s a fascinating hypothetical subject, but no one’s willing to put money into such a volatile substance, and certainly no one would agree to use it over magic-generated power.”

“Well, my world didn’t have magic,” I say a little sulkily. “We kind of had to make do.” Riddle frowns, looking vaguely disturbed. “It being dangerous is why there’s such a big debate over using it- no one wants to use a substance that could poison you near their homes, but it produces a lot of energy and it’s less harmful in the long term than things like oil. And people are careful with it. It’s not the same as getting power from a nuclear bomb or something.”             Riddle’s expression sours further. “A nuclear… bomb?”

“A bomb that utilizes the energy of a split atom or something. It’s supposed to be insanely powerful, and even if you don’t get blown up by it, it irradiates the surrounding area, and then that radiation makes people sick, so it’s a pretty effective weapon.” I grope for an appropriate metaphor. “It’s… um, it’s powerful enough that if you dropped one on NRC, the RSA would get hit by the shockwave. And it would probably give any survivors radiation sickness.”

“Woah,” Cater says. “Why would you make something like that?”

I shrug. “There wasn’t that good of a reason- it was made in a war that a lot of people were trying to win and it sort of… happened because people wanted a weapon that would end the war. But then people started making more of them, because everyone was scared of having it used on them, so they needed one of their own to protect themselves, and then everyone ended up with so many of them that they were an apocalyptic threat so no one could fire them. It all just sort of snowballed.”

“Huh,” Trey says. “That actually reminds me of the end of the war between the faeries and the humans.”

“Really?” Cater says. Trey swats him gently with a scrap piece of paper.

“Trein was just talking about it in class last week. Toward the end of the war, humans and faeries were using such destructive magic against each other that battlefields were tainted with blot and destroyed. The battles were almost always stalemates, and no one was winning anything. It’s one of the main reasons the peace negotiations started to gain some traction.”

Riddle nods. “There were other political reasons, of course, but that was where the biggest push for peace started. The first major act of human and faerie cooperation was restoring areas of land that were damaged by blot and magic.”

“Did it work?” I ask.

“For the most part- I think the Jupiter Corporation assisted heavily with the cleanup, and there are still a few areas that need restoration. But it’s largely healed now,” Riddle says.

“Then you’re doing better than we are,” I say ruefully. “You can’t really clean up radiation that way. Once it’s there, it’s there. The only thing you can do is wait until it fades naturally.”

“What does radiation do?” Cater asks. “Is it like blot?”

“It makes you sick, I think. There’s radiation in a lot of things, like sunlight- I think that’s why it can give you sunburns. But the kind of radiation the bombs used would make you sick. Deadly sick. That was one of the big concerns with them- even if people don’t die in the initial blast, the radiation would kill them off.” That and the nuclear winter, but I don’t mention that bit. All three of them look vaguely unsettled anyway.

“But that never happened,” Trey says, a little like he’s trying to reassure himself as well.

“No. And they decommissioned enough bombs that even if we had a war now, it probably wouldn’t kill everyone.” I consider. “Maybe. There’d probably be pockets of people who would survive. Civilization would definitely collapse, though. And radiation takes thousands of years to go away, so there’d be big parts of the world that would just be uninhabitable.” The three Heartslabyul boys exchange uncomfortable looks. “But it’s fine now. Mostly.”

“It’s impressive,” Riddle says after a moment, “what your world has managed to achieve without magic. I never would have thought that a place like that could become just as advanced as our world.”

“Thanks,” I say, uncertain what else to respond with. It’s not like I personally did any of the advancement he’s talking about. “Just being in a world where magic exists is pretty incredible to me. Thought it’s a lot to learn, since I’m not familiar with the history or how magic works or any of that…”

Something in Riddle’s eyes sparks and I trail off, trying to figure out exactly what I said. “Then you will join us for our study session. With midterms coming up, there isn’t a moment to waste, and having a remedial student will help Trey and I practice teaching the rest of the fist years.”

“Remedial student?” I sputter, indignant. I’m doing pretty well, considering I’m having to relearn everything from scratch in a high school setting. Then I realize that Riddle has just sentenced me to a study session from hell. “Uh, actually, I need to-” My gaze falls on the snoozing cat-beast next to me. “Grim and I should be getting back to Ramshackle before it’s too late, you know, we have to make dinner and there’s cleaning to do and-”

“Nonsense,” Riddle says, waving me off. “Trey has already made a nutritious meal back at the dorm, and I’m certain there’s enough for you to take part.”

I shoot Trey a pleading look, but he just nods. “There’s enough.” I glare at him. He shrugs back.

“And the cleaning can wait until midterms are over. There’s nothing more pressing than your studies.” Riddle waves his pen and the pile of books next to him starts hovering again. “We’ll head to the dorm once I check these out.” He pauses, then hands me a book on the top of the pile. “You can start with this basic overview of magical energy and its formation in nature.” He heads off to the front desk without waiting for my agreement, the book tower floating along next to him.

“Thanks for the help,” I mutter to Trey and Cater.

“It’s not that bad,” Trey says. “Riddle’s a good teacher. And even if you don’t need the help, it’ll be good for Grim. He could use the review- Ace says he barely stays awake during Trein’s lectures.”

True enough. Though it’s irritating that I have to be roped into it as well. “Fine, fine. C’mon, Grim.” I poke him. “We’re studying.”

“Myahhh,” he mumbles, shoving his face into his paws. “Five more minutes.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re going to Heartslabyul for dinner. Trey made it.”

He shoots to his paws. “Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!” He hops down from the desk and starts booking it toward the entrance of the library. I pick up the book Riddle gave me and join Trey and Cater in heading toward Riddle. Hopefully by the time Grim realizes we’re actually attending a study session, he’ll be too full and scared of getting collared again that he won’t make a fuss. Maybe. It’s a bit of a long shot. Whatever. Trey will probably give us dessert, and that’s enough of a win to make the whole evening worth it.

Read the next chapter here: Ch. 3

[cosmicdream222]

have you entered the void before?

I'm asking cause I've seen you post about it a bunch times with different methods to enter

Also, thank you for introducing me to the phase method! I'm using it and another method (one I created) to enter

Hey! Glad to hear the Phase has been helpful for you! Happy to answer your question, but it’s a bit more complicated than a yes/no answer and I’m feeling rambly today so you’re gonna get a whole backstory on how this blog came to be 😂

Backstory about me & this blog

I’d been in the personal development manifestation community since around 2016, and it was my life for a long time. But the kind of manifesting these people taught was basically like… wake up at 5am, work out, journal, meditate, shadow work, tarot cards, affirmations, cold showers, start a business, post no less than 10 times a day across your 5+ social media channels, and maybe if you hustle hard enough and cleared enough past life karma and Mercury isn’t retrograde, then the universe might grant your wishes... (if you don’t die of exhaustion first. 😅)

It really was a mess and realize now despite the facade of positive thinking and good vibes, the whole community really just keeps themselves identifying with lack & victim mentality so the coaches at the top profit off everyone else’s misery.

I believed in manifesting and had faith I would achieve my goals, but despite years of trying a million different things, only saw small or short-term successes and never seemed to get anywhere. I was feeling pretty burnt out and miserable, so summer 2023 I decided to stop trying so hard and just spend some time focused on myself and what I wanted. I went back to the two methods that I’ve always loved and had success with: affirmations and tapping.

I tapped every day and started making affirmation art and lockscreen wallpaper for fun. I posted the affirmations on Pinterest, which eventually lead me to finding affirmations pinned from tumblr. I think it was a screenshot from blushydior I saw at first, but her blog was deactivated by then. So I started stumbling around tumblr (around Aug-Sept 2023 at this point), where I eventually came across loa, the void, and shifting.

I was surprised because despite my extreme research into all things personal development & spiritual, I’d never heard of it. Although I’d read about quantum physics and more supernatural things, every coach/teacher had major limits. “Manifesting” only meant getting logical earth things like making 6 figures in your business through hard work and hustle so you can afford to travel and buy luxury cars & Chanel bags. Stuff like changing the past, waking up with all your desires, etc was absolutely impossible and not even talked about except “you can’t change the past”.

So having only heard about these incredible overnight life-changing manifestations from tumblr, I was skeptical and wanted more information. I basically started this blog to collect information from outside tumblr to prove it to myself and share with others. Which of course sent me down a rabbit hole of research and overconsumption and overcomplicating the void 😅

I did get kinda obsessed and throw myself into trying every shifting & void method I saw right away, which just left me frustrated with “failed” attempts. But I see now I was just repeating the same victim mentality from the old community - that everything had to be hard and a struggle, that I was a victim of circumstance and limited by a higher power. (This is also a really commonly held limiting belief in religion and society in general that affects many people.)

It took me more than a few months to realize, but I’m finally switching my default programming to that of a creator instead of a victim. Because I don’t want to be obsessed and put the void on a pedestal, I’m currently just working on my self concept that I am in control of my reality and can manifest whatever I want - with or without the void. I still do want to experience it of course, just want to make sure I’m going at it with a healthy mindset.

However!

About a week or two ago I read someone’s void success story that triggered a memory from many years ago: I realized I actually did wake up in the void and manifested something, long before I even knew what manifesting or the void was 😭 Because I’d always believed in supernatural things, I thought I had a “psychic dream” but now I know it was the void! (If anyone wants storytime I can make another post with more detail).

And since at the time, I entered without even knowing about the void’s existence, I realize we here or tumblr really do overcomplicate it. Like the video I posted where the void is described as the midway point between wake and sleep - it really is that simple!

I’ve noticed now that whenever I wake up naturally (not getting woken up by an alarm, outside noise, or cat jumping on me) I do always seem to wake up in the void. It’s the same kind of experience, and I don’t hear anything, but my first natural instinct when I wake up is to wonder where the sounds of my environment are. So I end up tuning in to my room and snapping out of the void.

I guess I just have to train myself to make my first thought an affirmation for my desires instead of just wondering where the sounds are 😅 But regardless, now I know it’s absolutely real and possible for me, I know it’s only a matter of time until I figure it out!

[kadextra]

so on a whim I started reading omniscient reader’s viewpoint manhwa

..and got hooked on the story so hard that I easily blasted through all available eps in less than a week. istg they put dr*gs in this thing it’s so good???? 😭

[SPOILER WARNING! big ramble ahead. if you’ve never read it, leave this post. consider checking it out you won’t be able to put it down]

lets get this out of the way first.

RAHHHHHH KIM DOKJA….. KIM DOKJA I LOVE YOU

GUYSSSSS 🥺 LISTEN. HE’S SUCH A GOOD PROTAGONIST. MY TRAUMA BOY. MY DUDE WITH THE POWER TO INFODUMP PEOPLE TO DEATH. YOU SELF-SACRIFICING IDIOT. his cunning intelligence makes him super attractive what can I say, I LOVE smart mcs with ambiguous morality and self sacrificial nature

here’s a big ✨shut your mouth✨ to every character who’s said he’s ugly- get your eyes checked, get a job get away from him (I know it’s because of the fourth wall’s filter it’s not their fault I’m just being silly)

the fourth wall is such a cool power to have. the complexity of how it acts based on his perception of fiction vs reality as the reader …. that’s very interesting and well thought out!!! how it lowkey has a consciousness too and it’s so tied into his mental state makes me want to psychoanalyze this guy even more. probably one of the most unique powers I’ve seen created and explored in a story tbh

I think the entire system of how the world works is really well done in general. constellations watching the apocalyptic bloodbath via livestream and sending donos to their favorite little guys shouldn’t work as well as it does and cracks me up so much 😭 (uriel is the best). I enjoy learning about all the irl different fables, history & mythologies too. plus doing my own research is fun! I did a deep dive through the web to learn about dokkaebi folklore lol I’m having a good time

I also related hard to how dokja read TWSA throughout his life, the story was a companion for him. got choked up bc I reflected on how much my own favorite companion stories for years mean to me. there’s been situations I’ve thought “what would (character) do?” dokja saying stuff like “what would joonghyuk do?” felt like I got called out <3 I’d probably be the same as him if my favorite characters suddenly came to life

anyways yeah I caught up with the manhwa looked online and discovered it comes from an already completed novel with over 500 chapters and the manhwa is barely a third into adapting it though it’s been releasing every week for 4 years. and that it’ll take like 10 more years to finish. I then planted my face in my hands and screamed with despair

I’ll shrivel up waiting to see what happens……………heyyy woahhhh.. whats this light of salvation ? the novel file just completed download on my phone ? that’s crazyy wow I opened it ? im scrolling it right now ? omg I’m telling myself in the mirror “pace yourself, try to space your reading out do NOT read too fast” ?

jokes aside im excited, first I’ll take some time to read back through the earlier chapters for extra context of scenes! >:D after I finish doing that…. pls pray for my self-control to try stretching this for as long as possible. I’m pumped to see what happens next with this demon king part so maybe I’ll read along with the manhwa unless I get too impatient heh

to conclude- I had no idea the fandom of orv was so passionate. while closing my eyes to spoilers, I was looking at beautiful fanart and animatics (watched this one and ascended that’s one of my fav rin songs). I can tell how much you guys love the story, there’s always going to be people like me who get interested so keep it up :D if the fandom does end up reading this, ummm *knocks on the door* hi im new

I will likely talk about it more in the future!! tagging under “#kade reads orv” ! might draw fanart on my art blog too bc brainworms <3 happy reading everyone

[seriouslysam8]

I have to say -- I keep getting your fics confused with canon. Your Demelza has cemented itself as my official version. I found myself just accepting Marlene and Teegan from Brumons/Selcouth as canon too. I do miss Hermione in your fics, but I get your aversion after reading some of your explanations. I think writers spend too much time making her this all-knowing "go away for a chapter to research and then comes back with all the answers and piercing insight" type of character who can make no mistakes. But I have a bit more fondness for her so I notice her absence more.

I miss Brumous but I could 100% see where you were beginning to struggle/flame out with it. I'd noticed inthe last few chapters there was a lot less Harry/Ginny conversational time, which is where I think your writing really shines the most. You've got a great grasp of their voices.

Plus once you get to a certain point in plot deviation fics it becomes way too easy to just try and match everything into the official storyline and then it's more like...why even bother writing it? So instead you have to cut and adjust the canon into the new universe which can feel more like work than just exploring the relationship interactions JKR never really gave us.

It's my favorite part of Selcouth, too. So I'm really looking forward to that next chapter. I've got a lot of empathy for Harry's career choice there, dealing with stuck-in-their ways medical professionals is the worst, especially as a new physician.

I’m glad that my fics get you confused with canon! I’ve put so much love and effort into some of these OCs or more developed canon characters. I always keep them pretty consistent throughout all my different universes so they all read cohesively!

The Hermione missing just puzzles me all around. There are plenty of fics that drop other characters from their plot lines. But everyone seems to be hung up on Hermione in my fics. I wish other characters could receive as much love as her. There are tons of characters who deserve just as much or move love than her.

The Brumous burnout really wasn’t because of any frustrations with the plot or not knowing what to write. I’m perfectly comfortable with not matching with canon or worried that my writing chops aren’t up to snuff to divert dramatically from the source material. Not to sound conceded, but I do think I have the ability to tell unique stories and the ability to stray away from the stations of canon with no shortage of creativity. The main issue is, I think, boredom. While writing the longer stories in MIT, I was able to maintain writing one-shots and short stories within that universe to keep my interest from falling behind. With this, I can’t jump around in the timeline without spoiling everything I have planned. So, then, I think of totally different ideas that draw me in and those stories are never short and sweet. My attention keeps getting pulled more and more. I’m at the point now where I need to completely reread Brumous to continue and get back into the groove. That’s a task daunting with and within itself. Couple with the overwhelming response I’ve gained from Selcouth… damn, it’s hard to get back into the teenage Hinny mindset.