#i'm sure there's folks who know this already but i wanted to share for anyone who has been frustrated like i have

[glitchinginthegarden]

Does your engram rockerboy suffer from wibbly wobbliness in photomode?

Don't give up hope! There's a solution! Call 1-800--

I'd been wondering for ages (and been too low key afraid to ask) how to fix (replacer) Johnny's melting episodes in photomode and now, thanks to some kind server folks, I finally have an answer.

So, I'm sharing.

This solution requires ACM. And I'm assuming you have basic knowledge of how to use that and the other tools involved with it (ex. AMM, etc.)

Of course, he was cooperating better than usual (sometimes it's full blown washboard nose) but some of the wobble is still visible enough for these examples.

[I recommend opening the full images further down for face details and whatnot.]

What you gotta do is this:

Open AMM, target your replacer Johnny.

Open you ACM menu.

Change every piece of him with the "blendable" appearance to "default".

If you're keeping his rings and bracelet on, change those too to help with finger wiggle. You can do the same with any of his regular clothing that you don't plan on swapping also (I've had those get weird a few times too).

There's multiple for his face/beard/eyes, etc. Eyebrows also have their own mesh. Just go down the list, honestly. Man's got too many parts.

Oh, and don't forget his whole body too!

[bitbybitwrites]

Well . . hellloooooooo out there folks!

Thanks again for the following folks who have tagged me for Six/Seven/Several Sentence Sunday and WIP Weds these past few weeks:

@nocoastposts, @iboatedhere, @porcelainmortal, @forabeatofadrum, @sophie1973

@blueeyedgrlwrites, @alasse9, @daisyishedwig, @tinyarmedtrex, @onthewaytosomewhere

@henrysfox, @caramelcoffeeaddict, @tailsbeth-writes, @caterpills, @littlemisskittentoes

(and if I've forgotten anyone, I apologize!!!!)

Let's see . . did a bit of writing lately I was able to crank out the following:

Smutsgiving 2024- Klaine/Glee

Smutsgiving 2024 - FirstPrince/RWRB

The latest chapter of Puppy Love (FirstPrince/RWRB Fic)

I'm working still on finishing up my Klaine fic, If I Can Make Your Heart My Home. About 2,500 words in on the next chapter.

Here's an excerpt below the cut: ( cc @datshitrandom)

******** “I swear, I was clear from the beginning, Kurt.  I told him I wasn’t interested in him.  I told him it wasn’t a date that night.  I just agreed to go with him only because he said he’d donate a lot to the charity if I did.  I didn’t think anything of it.  I thought it was . .” “Nothing?” Blaine’s shoulders sagged.  “Yeah, “ he whispered.  “I thought it was.”  He scooted up the bed, so he could lean back against the headboard. “God, I’m so stupid . . “ he muttered as he closed his eyes. A weight settled in his lap, causing him to look up and see Kurt there, straddling him.  Blaine could see the concern in those blue eyes. “You’re not stupid.” “But . .” “Blaine, listen to me.  You’re not stupid.”  Kurt leaned forward to cup Blaine’s face in between his hands.  “Sebastian is a conniving, manipulative son-of-a-bitch and at this moment I’d like to heave his sorry ass and his smarmy meerkat face into the East River.” Kurt spat. Blaine’s hands tightened around Kurt’s waist.  This must have been what Cooper had described when he witnessed Kurt confront their father -  this unfettered protectiveness of Blaine.  He only had Cooper and Nan been so passionately in his corner before. Now he had Kurt . . and that . . that feeling was overwhelming. "You’re not going to bludgeon him with a rolling pin when you go into the tea salon next, will you?” Blaine said with a weak smile, pulling Kurt closer and trying to calm him down with a little gallows humor. “Don’t tempt me,”  growled Kurt.  “If I could, I’d set Chef Sue on him.  Then he’d really know what its like to fear for his life on a daily minute by minute basis.” “So. . . you love me enough to commit murder for me. . . I’m touched,” Blaine murmured quietly. “I love you. Period.” Kurt said, making sure Blaine could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.   “Now, would I defile my baking equipment to beat a man to death to uphold your honor?  You fucking bet I would.” Kurt said, his mouth set into a grim line. *****

I know the holidays are upon us and these next two weeks there will probably be less writing for me and more running around like crazy taking are of holiday responsibilities. But yes folks, have no fear, I'm still very slowly ( as I do) working on my WIPs :)

Uh and I might have signed up for the Klaine secret santa writing thing - because I'm a masochist. 😂

Dear Secret Santa, please be patient with me! Its coming - I did start it!

Hope you all have a wonderful holiday season . . .

Tagging. . .for those who want to play . . . besides the lovely folks already tagged above . . if you want to share what they've been working on lately :

@special-bc-ur-part-of-it, @little-escapist, @wowbright, @gleefulpoppet, @hkvoyage

@myheartalivewrites, @14carrotghoul , @kirakiwiwrites, @thesleepyskipper, @kirakiwiwrites

@madas-ahatters-world, @spaceorphan18 @firstprincehornyramblings , @rockitmans, @sparklepocalypse

@cryscendo @justgleekout @sarkyblueeyes @esilher @mynonah

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

I read your post about not letting kudos and hits upset us. I try to think this way but I'm curious about something else. I've written many fanfics for my fandom and they're all "flop". I don't mind that honestly. But then some writers have written only one fic about the ship I do and and it gets hundreds of kudos. How do some writers achieve that when I'm doing the same and it doesn't get the same response. What else can I do?

I’m afraid I can’t give you a definite answer about what you should do or why this person’s work is more popular, but what I can give you are some advice and, from my experience, some reasons that might explain why other’s works receive more hits and kudos.

start with why other writers’ works are more popular when it’s the same characters, same ship, same fandom. there are various factors at play that might be it;

maybe the person already has large audience base prior to their posting about the fandom you’re in, I know a few authors who already have these sorts of loyal readers that would read any work the authors posted even if they (the readers) were not in that fandom.

maybe someone, anyone, decided share the link to this person’s work on Tumblr or Twitter (X) or any social media platform, and it kind of became viral, thus it drew in lots and lots of readers. it could take just one person, didn’t necessarily have to be the author themself, to share the link among the fandom as a recommendation, or maybe a screenshot of one sentence from the fic that they liked, what happened next is that the replies were filled with people asking for the link.

tags and summary are important factors when people are looking for a fic to read. so maybe this person’s work is tagged with the content people were looking for? maybe their summary grabbed people’s attention or curiosity?

these are just what I can think of over the top of my head.

as for what you can do to gain more readers, I’ve never seen your work so the advice I can give will be a general one; I believe the trick lies in summary, tags as well as the format of one’s work.

when it comes to AO3 (I assume it’s your platform?), tags and summary are the main things people use to determine whether or not they want to click on the fic.

tag your content properly, what characters or pairings it’s about, as well as what the readers will find upon reading your work (you don’t have to spoil it, only the general tags that will give your readers an idea of what they’re in for).

summaries are just as important. there are no “rules” obviously, and I’m not telling you or any writers what to do. though a little advice that I personally take is that you use this little summary section AO3 gives you to do anything to make sure it stands out and that people will see it and want to click on it. that means leave “author’s note” out of the summary section. folks, AO3 summary is the first glimpse into the fic itself that people will see prior to clicking on it, most of the time, people look at the summary to see the author’s writing style and if what’s written, plotwise, grabs their interest. personally, when I see an author use “summary” as a place to write “author’s note”, chances are, I will scroll past that fic as I am interested in what the fic is about, not what the author has to say about their opinion on said fic or their personal life or anything (there’s an author’s note section for that) and if I can’t get a glimpse of what the plot is about or what the author’s writing style is from the summary section, then I won’t click on it, and will look for other fic that can get me interested instead.

moving on to fic format, again, I am not telling anyone what to do here. this is only a suggestion, an advice I’ve learned and want to share: when you write your fic, make sure to use line and paragraph spacing. if your 10k word long fic is one long block of text with no paragraph break, chances are, people will back away from it entirely. also, if it’s two different characters talking with dialogues, don’t put all of their dialogues in one paragraph. for instance, a paragraph for character A’s dialogue, then another separate paragraph for character B’s dialogue and so on.

and I think that’s it for my advice? however, I’ll say this again that the secret to truly enjoying your role as a fanfic writer is that you only focus on yourself. write whatever you want for yourself. it doesn’t matter if this person’s work is more popular, because fanfics and fandoms aren’t a competition. you are your main audience. just have fun creating the stories you want to create for you.

[snowblossomreads]

Day 4 - Darkest Night

Pairings: David Friedman x His Loathing For Humanity

Summary: In where David unknowingly sets in motion something that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): Heavily implied child abuse (of all kinds), domestic violence aftermath, non-graphic murder scene, physical scars, implied self-harm, angst, nothing happy bout this one folks.

A/N: You want dark well here is dark : ). This one is heavy folks so mind the tags! Also it's Daddy Dave day 😏😏 unfortunately I've only given him despair, but dont worry, he'll get a happy ending in future fics (if you know what i mean 🤭🤭🤭)

David had seen his fair share of fucked up shit in his almost 10 years of service with the NOPD. Gang murders, sexual assaults, domestic violence that ended up in murder suicides, the list went on and on. And as it went on and on, his trust, and confidence in the human race plummeted as well.

He didn't understand how people could do such horrible shit to each other. To flesh and bone like themselves, and it was something he couldn't help ponder each night, when he had to nurse a glass of something strong to try and forget.

Humans were a fucked up bunch.

He came to that conclusion early on, but tonight, was probably one of the darkest nights of his career, and he knew it would stick with him for the rest of his life.

"Whaddya got?" David asked, as he approached a younger officer who turned to look at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"You're not supposed to be here are you Friedman? I thought you got promoted? What you doing out here with us rookies?"

"Yeah, yeah. Well, was already in the neighborhood looking at Christmas lights," he answered sarcastically. "So thought I come by. Now whaddya got?"

The young man hesitated for a moment, before figuring there was no harm in telling him what was going on.

"Neighbors heard some yelling from the house right there," he started, pointing at a family house that definitely belonged to someone that had a bit of money.

It wasn't some mansion you'd see in the Garden District, but it wasn't a house you'd find in the Ninth Ward either.

"Any idea who the folks are?" David asked.

"Not anything concrete. From what I heard, some congressman or something? Not real sure though," the man continued, as he flipped through a few pages in his notepad. "Apparently, it's a normal thing for them, but sounds like the neighbor heard some gunshots and got real concerned. I think there's supposed to be a kid living there too."

"Christ," David grimaced clicking his tongue at the additional information.

Out of all the cases he had to work, those with kids involved were the worst types. Those were the ones that stuck with you the most, because you had some young kid with a full life ahead of them, either ending up dead, or with the kid probably traumatized for a very long time. Thankfully, he hadn't often been on scenes were that was the case, but it seemed like it was just his luck that he stumbled upon one tonight.

"You alright Friedman?"

"Yeah yeah, is that all we know?"

"Yep. So you coming in or…?"

"Don't got a choice now that I'm here do I Benoit?"

The younger man shrugged.

"Up to you."

The hell it was.

When they made it up the porch steps and to the door, they knocked a few times. Announcing that it was the police, and they were here for a welfare check, along with coming because of repeated noise complaints.

After knocking three more times and not hearing a response, David tried the doorknob, checking to see if it was unlocked by chance. And lo and behold, when he twisted it, it gave, and he pushed the door open to the sight of a dark hallway that looked down all the way to what seemed to be the living room, which seemed to be illuminated.

"Hello anyone home?"

There was no response to the call, and both men looked at each other as they passed a silent message to one another.

David entered the house first, followed by Benoit, both of them with their guns drawn, ready in case something popped out on them as they made their way down the hallway.

"Hello? NOPD. If someone's in here let us know!" Benoit called out, giving anyone in the seemingly empty house another warning, yet the response he received was silence.

Closing in on the living room, they both began to notice what appeared to be evidence of an altercation. A broken vase, a chair flipped over, household items strewn around leading past the archway of the living room.

It was literally a trail leading them into the room, and they followed, apprehensive about what they were going to find and in what condition.

Glass crunched under their shoes as they stepped on shattered pieces of porcelain from the vase, and glass from a broken picture frame. Crossing the threshold into the room, there was an even bigger mess that greeted their sights. From a TV on the ground, a coffee table turned over, and some bookshelves laying on the floor. David could only imagine what he was about to see as they walked into the room, unfortunately finding what they didn't want to find.

"Ah fuck," David sighed, his shoulders sagging as he shook his head at the messy scene. Pulling the walkie talkie that was clipped on the side of hip, he extended the antenna, and tuned in to the right channel before speaking. "Unit 340 here, we're gonna need medical and CSI at over at 6403 Colbert in Lakeview. We got one deceased, female approximately 30s in a possible homicide. Also, a potentially missing child."

"10-4, will send someone, over." The dispatch responded before static took over the transmission and he turned it off.

"Benoit, I'mma look around some more to see if the kid's still here," David informed his temporary partner who nodded. "See if you can find anything else. Weapon or something."

"You got it Dave, give me holler if you need me."

Giving him a curt nod in response, David left the room, venturing further into the house to find any sign of life that might be left. Going further down the hall that was on the right side of the living room, he climbed up the stairs that led him to a row of three rooms side by side. He stopped at the first room that had its door cracked open enough that he could see that it was a bedroom.

Carefully, he pushed the door open even more, and it was evident that it was the room of someone older. Probably the parents.

"Anybody in there?"

There was silence as he walked in to observe the room. Unlike the hallway and the living room, everything was put together. Nothing was out of place, except the comforter from the unmade bed, but that wasn't really of any interest at the moment. He continued to pace around the room, even opening the closets to see if there was anyone hiding.

Nope. Empty. Just like the en suite bathroom, and just like under the bed.

Getting up from the ground, he let out a soft grunt, brushing himself off before he exited the master bedroom and moved on to the next room. Once more he called out again.

"NOPD, if someone's in there let me know."

He waited for a few moments for someone to answer, before he pushed the door open with the tip of his shoe.

This room clearly belonged to the kid, seeing as there were stuffed animals on the bed, and a few on the floor. Near the window was a small desk, that from the moonlight coming in the room, illuminating the area, he could see coloring pencils and markers strewn all over it.

The walls were also plastered with childlike scribbles that he didn't examine too closely, and posters from Saturday morning cartoons it seemed.

Just a normal kid's room.

"Hello? Anyone there?" David asked again. "I'm here to help, if you're in here." Not expecting an answer or to find anyone.

Yet again he was met with silence, and it made his heart drop a little at the lack of response. He was so hoping the kid was alright. Letting out a small noise of disappointment, he started to make his way out of the room, resigned to the fact the kid was probably taken by their father, or worse. He could hope they were with a friend or something on a playdate, and they weren't here when it happened, but that was rarely the case.

Though, the pessimistic thought that crossed his mind, immediately turned less so, when he heard a little voice behind him that had him whipping back around to look in the room.

"H-hello?" It was so timid, yet he could hear how the voice wavered with uncertainty as they spoke.

"H-Hey I hear you kid," David responded, stepping back in the room and frantically searching to find the source of the voice. "You're safe, you can come out."

He was met with silence once again, as he began to approach the closet where he thought the voice to be coming from.

Just as he reached it, the kid spoke again, this time the voice much clearer, and much closer.

"Is he gone?"

They were definitely hiding in the closet.

"Are you talking about your dad?" David answered, trying his best to keep his voice even, and paying attention to what he said so as not to alert them that something was wrong. "Yeah he's gone, everything's alright now. Y'alls neighbor just wanted to check in on y'all."

There was no response.

"I'm bout to open the door alright? I'm not gonna do nothin' to hurt you okay ?" David explained calmly as he placed one hand on the door knob to the closet, and the other stayed on his gun in case the man was holding his own child hostage.

He blanched at that hoping to god that wasn't the case.

Taking a deep breathe, he turned the knob, cracking the door open just a bit before opening it completely into a dark space.

It was extremely dim, and he had to squint, before he saw the shape of a small human sitting in the corner of the closet hidden behind some clothes. Allowing himself a sigh of relief, David let go of his gun and instead grabbed his flash light, turning it on and pointing it at the little figure in the back.

The little girl, who he could see clearly now squinted at him before covering her face to try and block out the light. It was then, he noticed that the back of her hands were littered with circular scars that were discolored. Some newer than others, and he could only frown as he pointed the light away from her so he wasn't blinding her with it.

That seemed to work, as she put her hands down yet she continued to stare at him with such intensity that it made him uncomfortable for some reason.

"Hey there sweetheart come here. It's okay I'm not gonna hurt you," he explained as calmly as possible, even going as far as to put on a wry smile for the girl so that maybe she trusted him more. "Come on, I'm here to help, you're safe everything's alright."

Still, she stared at him silently with those piercing eyes. Eyes that looked into him even though when he looked at hers they seemed absolutely empty. She couldn't have been more than eight years old, yet her eyes were completely devoid of life even if she was physically alive.

Those eyes, they were going to haunt David.

He continued to try and coax her out some more. And during that he learned her name was [Y/n].

"That's a pretty name [Y/n]. Your parents did a good job at naming you," he praised. That was the only time she smiled at him for the rest of the evening.

It took him a few more minutes of coaxing her before she was receptive to him. And a little longer of him just chatting with her, before she seemingly finally trusted him enough to crawl out from her hiding space in the closet. The first thing he noticed when she came closer was a fading bruise around her neck.

And he knew already what this was going to be about. Or so he thought.

Fury burned bright and hot in David's chest at the sight, and he wanted to find the fucker who would do this to his own child. How could anyone hurt a child like this? Not only that, he had left her parentless. For what? He was so angry, yet he couldn't let the girl see that.

'Be calm Friedman she's your first priority make sure she's alright first.'

Right, he had a job to do.

"That's it I got you baby girl," he cooed gently, shaking off the rage that grew in his heart as she finally emerged from the closet. Wrapping her in his arms and picking her up from the floor, he brought her close to him as her tiny arms reached to wrap around the back of his neck. "Come on, let's get you outside alright?"

He'd barely finished his sentence before the girl looked up at him, her facial expression devoid of any emotion and it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Where's my mom?"

He couldn't just tell her that her mom was lying in a pool of her own blood in the front room, so instead, he tried to make it seem like her mom was busy talking to the other officers. Which in a way wasn't a lie.

Bodies did talk. Dead or alive.

"She's downstairs with some of my partners right now; trying to see where your dad done gone to."

"Is she dead?"

David faltered, freezing in mid stride, and he was glad he wasn't at the staircase, because he would have fallen straight down with her in his arms.

"Daddy said he'd kill her if she tried to take me from him."

[Y/n] stared at him, eyes unblinking, waiting for him to answer her, and he was completely speechless. So caught off guard by her straightforwardness, and by the emptiness that still lingered in her eyes. And her voice, it was so even, almost monotone if it wasn't obscure by the natural cadence of childhood.

"I don't know yet doll," David lied, though he had a feeling she saw through it with ease. "I'll ask my partner, but first let's get you downstairs and checked up on alright?" He asked gently.

She was quiet for a moment, before nodding her assent, and then laying her head on his shoulders, allowing him to bring her downstairs. Once he reached the bottom floor, he walked straight past the front room, shifting her in his arms to avoid letting her see what was going on, as the investigators and medical team seemed to have arrived moments before he came downstairs.

Walking straight out of the house and into the cool December air, he spotted an EMT standing at the ambulance, taking some notes before she looked up at him and noticed the child in his arms.

Immediately her demeanor changed, as she put the clipboard down, walking to them and meeting him halfway.

"Oh, hey there," the young lady spoke as they approached, her demeanor soft and caring as David reached her. "Who'd we got here huh?"

"Names [Y/n]," David answered, as the girl looked at him at the sound of her name and then at the woman who gave her a smile, which she didn't reciprocate.

Still, the lady smiled at her and introduced herself, "well my name is Monica honey and if I can, I like to make sure you're not hurt anywhere. Is that okay?" She asked, patiently waiting for an answer from the little girl.

Looking back at the woman, and then back at David, [Y/n] stayed silent. At first, they thought she was thinking about what she wanted to do, until she looked back at the EMT once more and back at him again.

It then dawned on him what she was doing, and he nodded at her, a soft smile on his lips as he reassured her.

"It's okay [Y/n], Monica knows how to take care of folks real good, she's even studying at Tulane right now cus' she trying to be a nurse, ain't that right?"

"Sure am," the dark haired woman beamed, trying to be as friendly as possible as she tried to disarm the child. "Top of my class to, so I know a thing or two about taking care of folk. Even little ones like you [Y/n]. So how 'bout it darlin?"

They watched as [Y/n] bit the inside of her cheek, her hands tight on David's shirt collar as she contemplated before she finally gave a little nod.

"Okay."

"Thatta girl," David praised as he handed over the young girl to Monica who coddled her, and it seemed that [Y/n] enjoyed that as she cuddled up to the woman.

Smiling, as a bit of relief flowed in him knowing that she was in good hands, he patted [Y/n]'s back. The action caused her to flinch a bit, and both of the adults seemed to notice as a frown immediately replaced their short lived relief.

He was gonna find that piece of shit of a father and make sure he spent the rest of his life locked up.

"Now I'mma go talk to my partner and we're gonna see how your mom is. I'll come back and see you before we go alright [Y/n]?" He asked as the little girl shifted in Monica's arm to look at him.

She nodded at him silently.

"Alright, be good for Ms.Monica," he said, turning around and preparing to go back in the house to see what Benoit had found.

Just as he was about to walk away though he was stopped by her soft voice saying,

"Thank you."

He paused and turned around, to see her waving at him, her face still neutral but her wave enthusiastic. And he couldn't help crack a smile and wave back her.

"You're welcome [Y/n]."

It had been a week after the initial investigation at who he now knew were the [L/n]'s. And as he expected, [Y/n]'s eyes had haunted him indeed.

She was taken away after everything to some family members who agreed to watch over her. Whether or not she ended up in the foster system was to be seen, but he hopped not. She needed help. He could see it from the lack of emotions she showed and from the abuse that probably took place.

Granted he didn't know the extent of that. Not until now.

"You gonna wanna look at this Friedman," Matty Grimes, a fellow detective announced as he stopped by David's desk, dumping a thick manila case folder on his desk.

"Whats is 'it'?" David grunted, sitting up from his reclined position in his chair.

"Your [L/n]'s case." Matty responded, causing David's demeanor to shift immediately as he opened the thick folder. "Looks like them folks had some fucked up shit going on. No surprise tho, politicians always got something going on. But I'mma leave it at that. Good luck. It's one hell of a case to be dealing with during the holidays."

Leave it at that he did, as he left David to look over the crime scene documents in the folder. And there were many as he leafed through it.

There were statements from neighbors, coworkers, families, all of it saying they were happy but something seemed off but they could never figure it out. Crime scene photos, potential leads for where the father was. It was a lot, but none of it phased him, well it did, but not as much as other things he had seen. It was par for the course. That was, until he reached the middle of the folder ,and then, he had to keep himself from getting up and walking away.

He should have known. A bruised neck and scars on her hands that he had found out were from cigarettes being put out on her were the least of the injuries.

A severely bruised back, a history of hospital visits for broken bones, signs of self harm including but not limited to, scratching, hair pulling, and possible self mutilation.

There was also another page that he was hesitant to look at as he put two and two together. From her past injuries to her current ones, it made his stomach twist in uncomfortable knots knowing what might be next. But he had to keep reading. It was his job to make sure he got her justice and to do that he had to know what else had been going on.

Turned the page he did, and he read the behavioral and witness testimony summary. And by the end of it, he had to close the entire folder and walk away from his desk in disgust and distress.

She was only eight.

When David went home that night, he sat at his kitchen table, whiskey in hand as he sobbed quietly to himself.

God, he hated cases that involved children.

A/N: : D, is this lore you may ask? Yes it is. Unhinged [Y/n] is baby girl baby so I think it appropriate that we learn some of her backstory tragic as it maybe 😥

[fir-fireweed]

I know a lot of people who won't look at or follow a game if it doesn't have a demo. It casts doubt in a lot of people's minds that anything will actually get made for it. Not that authors owe anyone their work, but it's understandably frustrating to keep getting invested in IFs that have no demo, and they never do then disappear. (I'm sure it's frustrating for the authors as well.) Though you have a game almost finished, and wrote it quite quickly. So I think that track record might incline folks to have more faith that they'll actually see a demo if you post an intro before the demo is done. But yeah, there's a pretty common attitude of "don't get your hopes up" for IFs that don't have a demo.

That’s completely understandable. And judging from the poll results so far, most people agree with you. From an author’s standpoint, I’m excited and want to share, but as a reader I’d be leery, too.

Viatica was unique in that it’s a rewrite of a previously written novella, so plot arc and key scenes were already mapped out. Plus, it’s on the short side. This new work is grand and expansive and only loosely plotted. I’ll need to learn new software, too.

I need to practice some restraint, lol. I’m like my kids 10 minutes in to a 12 hour car ride, “Are we there yet?” 😅

Thank you, I appreciate you sharing your thoughts!

[survivedthenight]

last line tag

thank you so much for the tag @drylite ! 💞 i haven’t written in a bit since i was away visiting my best friend and seeing some shows and now i’m sick soooo have this from a week ago!

When he sent John his wedding invitation, “Best man position still open.”, written on the back, he’d hoped John had forgotten what his handwriting looked like enough that he didn’t notice the hesitance in each stroke. John had replied with a simple “Don’t count on it.” and had turned up on Gale’s doorstep half an hour ago. “So where’s Marge?” “She’s at her folks’.” He watches John nod and knock the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray, considering Gale the entire time. He’s looking at him like he can see straight through Gale's skin to his soft insides. He knows neither he nor Marge smoke. Gale wants to grab the ashtray and smash it over the fireplace. “It’s customary.” “Sure,” John says, “for the night before. Not for months.” Gale hadn’t told John he and Marge were living apart but he must have been able to tell just from looking at Gale’s sparsely decorated living room, the coat hooks in the hall that only hold his jackets, the singular toothbrush in the bathroom. “She’ll move in after the wedding,” he says, and his voice comes out oddly brittle. “Her father’s very traditional.” John takes a big swig and holds Gale’s eyes as he swallows. “Not like you.” Gale suddenly wants to send John packing. This was a huge mistake. “Bucky,” he warns, and John holds his hand up and grins. “Just teasing. You think that’s bad, wait until you hear my speech.” The thought of John making a speech tomorrow won’t even register in Gale’s head. When he tries to think of anything past the ceremony his mind is empty, like he hasn’t got enough ink ribbon left in his typewriter so the page is just coming out stark, blank white.

i'm not sure who has or hasn't been tagged already since i've been mostly offline so feel free to not do this if you don't want to or have already done so! @wrmhles @johnslittlespoon @soliloquy-dawn @onyxsboxes

also artist friends!! i know this is a last lines tag and not a wip one but if you're working on anything and would feel comfortable sharing please do!! @crowthis @sorgenfalter !

no pressure to anyone tagged 💞

@onceandfuturebitch you too if you’re writing anything right now 👀

[epickiya722]

What About Tengen?

Alright, folks, time for "What thought Kiya wants to share today because if she doesn't, she'll freak out"! Ha ha... yeah...

Now, before we get onto this I don't expect anyone to agree or let alone be for the idea. This is just me, again, sharing a thought I had. I wouldn't even say it's a genius thought. Just a thought. In fact, a wild one.

After rereading some chapters and writing a whole fic, I've been thinking about this idea I haven't seen much about before that I haven't recalled and that is...

Can Yuji be a Vessel for Tengen? Let alone is it a possible ending for Yuji?

I already know this is about to be a lengthy post and to be honest, I don't know how to exactly put this into words, but I'll try my best. I'm still getting into understanding how jujutsu and all that works, so bear with me.

☆☆☆

Chapters Referenced

145

249

257

☆☆☆

Back in chapter 145, Tengen notes that because of the failed merging with Riko Amanai (she was assassinated by Toji due to the Star Religious Group believing a merging with Tengen is impure), their aging accelerated and that's what lead to their current physical state. Also, a bit later, Tengen states how they evolved pass the point needing a specific Star Plasma Vessel. So it's not impossible for them to merge with anybody else.

Which, thinking about it, Kenjaku might have been the one to orchestrate that assassination because of that reason (Tengen evolving). That's canon, right? I believe that's canon... anyways!!

The whole point of a Star Plasma Vessel is to "reset" Tengen's technique, Immortality, as noted back in chapter 66 (conversation between Gojo, Yaga and Geto).

When Tengen merges with a capable SPV, it prevents them (Tengen) from evolving. If they evolve, they lose their sense of self, lose their sense of will. They can become a threat to humanity.

"Master Tengen will no longer be Master Tengen."

Now how this applies to Yuji?

Okay, so because Tengen has evolved, anyone can be a Vessel for them, possibly. With that in mind, that could include Yuji. But is Yuji capable?

Well, if Yuji could hold Sukuna, I say it's possible. Yuji was made to be Sukuna's vessel, his cage. When Yuji first swallowed Sukuna's Cursed Finger, it a slim chance he'd survive. And he does! Not only does he survive, but he showcases he's able to control his body from Sukuna. Keep in mind, Sukuna is a very powerful being. Anybody who have swallowed that Finger would have either died (due to the Fingers being like poison) or never got their body back.

Let's also consider the nature of Sukuna. He's human, but not human. He's a Curse, but not like a Curse. Sukuna is human, but his behavior is that of a Curse. Tengen is something similar. They evolved more into something of a Cursed Spirit than a human.

If Yuji could handle Sukuna who in a way is similar in a way to Tengen, what if Yuji also could be a vessel for Tengen? And not just that. It's implied that with Tengen, whoever become their vessel, "dies".

Well, what if for Yuji, as he was able to with Sukuna, he could still maintain his sense of self?

Keep in mind, Yuki Tsukumo (first name similar to Yuji's) was a temporary SPV for Tengen and she came out fine. Sure, she's a Special Grade, but at the point of the story we are at, Yuji had been declared at Sukuna's level, who is considered Special Grade. Hmm...

Sliding in right here to add as of 257, it's implied that Yuji was born with one of Sukuna's fingers already sealed in him. Which makes me think even further about this.

Kenjaku, Kaori and Jin are human. Therefore, Yuji is human... so even as an unborn baby, he should have died when that Finger was sealed in him, right? Unless, it was a ruse this whole time that Sukuna's Cursed Fingers would kill someone upon consuming them to keep people from swallowing those Fingers. (But I kinda doubt it was a ruse.)

What if because of the Finger, it didn't kill Yuji but altered his composition so that he already was somewhat like a Curse? Better yet, like his brothers the Death Paintings who are part Curse, part human? Who also happen to be aborted? So, the "Death" part of that title is fitting. But also... maybe it can apply to Yuji, too? As I said, that CF could have made unborn Yuji part Curse, part human. You could say that the CF "killed" some part of human Yuji.

Reminder that because he is Sukuna's vessel and he swallowed that Finger, he was seen as being part Curse, part human. What if this whole time, he already as such?

And one of the subtle hints to Tengen and Sukuna?

Speaking of Death Paintings!!

Something else I want to point out from 257 is that is had been revealed that Yuji and Sukuna both ate their siblings to gain something from them. For Sukuna, it was to survive. For Yuji, it was to gain the Blood Manipulation technique.

Their siblings, at those times, were not like full grown or anything. No... they were fetuses.

And guess what? The last time we get a look at Tengen's current state before being sent off to Sukuna was in 249. And what did Tengen look like?

This. Small and almost fetus-like, you can say.

What if at some point, the others somehow get hold of Tengen with them in this state? Like how Death Paintings are, Tengen can't function independently in this state. What if like those DPs, Tengen will need a new body? A new vessel?

And the chosen vessel? Yuji Itadori. And how? By consuming Tengen.

I know, I know! It's crazy!

But thinking about all what I have so far said, I wouldn't even say it's impossible. Oh, I'm not done.

In another post, I talked about how it seemed risky that Yuji consumed 6 DPs and not one took over his body. Even though, he could control Sukuna, wouldn't it still be considered a gamble that his body could have been taken over by a DP? Maybe they figured because he previously had been Sukuna's vessel, it would turn out okay. Which it did and it makes sense!

Yuji isn't just a vessel. He's a cage. And what if he wasn't just a cage for Sukuna, but for anything?

What if Kenjaku practiced run experimenting making DPs to prepare for someone like Yuji? DPs take complete control of someone's body and forge it into their own. Yuji's does the opposite.

He remains conscious of himself and his body adapts. What if that can work with Tengen?

I think about how Riko was meant to be Tengen's vessel and there was a guarantee she wouldn't be Riko anymore. Opposite of Yuji. Amazingly enough though, for two characters who never met (Yuji was three when Riko died), they sure do have a lot in common. [This post here!]

I'm not saying I'm an expert on analyzing stories, let alone Gege Akutami's works, but I noticed that some subtle hints of foreshadowing are sometimes done when two (or more) characters tend to have commonality. Riko and Yuji happen to be a pair. While alike, they're also opposite. And as I mention, one thing they're opposite in is that Riko's existence was at sake merging with Tengen. Yuji? He keeps his control.

Another is that Riko, at first, she accepts her death when becoming Tengen. She felt like a loner because of that fate. However, she changes her mind at the end and wants to live.

Yuji also accepts death as Sukuna's vessel and before thought of himself as a loner, but he is also a fighter. His grandfather told him to help others so he can be surrounded when he dies.

What if, in reverse, Yuji will give up on that goal at the end? Tengen is, too, a loner like Yuji and Riko. What if Yuji gives up and accepts such a fate as being a loner, taking Tengen's place? Maybe, be surrounded by those who remain as he "dies" to take Tengen's place before going into solitude?

It's a tragic ending, I know. But with JJK, a lot of these characters do have tragic endings.

Simply overall, what if this is a possible ending that has been hinted at this whole time? What if at the end, Yuji is the one to become the next Tengen of sorts? And if he does, he can still be him?

I'm not saying this is a guarantee, let alone you have to agree. [But if you don't, keep it to yourself, I don't care to argue with someone over my thought.]

But it's a thought I have had for a while (since... February...)

[lullydoesstuff]

"The Plagues" - a 76th Hunger Games concept

This idea lives 24/7 in my mind and it's not even paying me rent, so I have to let it out and share it with someone. I love the Hunger Games saga, I can't wait for the next book, but now I absolutely want to talk about a 76th edition concept.

So, we need to send a message with this edition and Capitol City has to pay for what they did, maybe not everyone, but for sure rich, wealthy and powerful families that could do at least something to stop the games surely have to. And we need to punish them once for all for their 75 years lasting dictatorship; nothing's better than representing this with God's Wrath.

Remember what happened in the Bible when the Egyptian pharaoh didn't want to let Moses and Jews go away? God sent the ten plagues. This sounds familiar, it's similar to Panem's situation, isn't it?

So, in this edition, the tributes are reaped amongst those families' firstborns (keep that info for later, we'll need that).

Our arena will be an ancient Egypt inspired city, the weapons they can have are mainly kopeshes and whips, but there are also venomous snakes and the desert is very cold at night so this alone is dangerous.

We'll base our arena events on the ten plagues and you know, they're already deadly and this situation would be very hard to face but Capitol City always wanted a show from the Hunger Games, and we'll give them one.

I mean, sending random people in an arena, dressed up as some ancient Egyptian folk? I don't know, kinda boring to watch, and... they were all from the high class, they're friends and maybe they could refuse to fight each other, the plagues are dangerous but, as I said, we want a show.

We can subject the tributes to mental control (MK ultra or stuff like that) so we can convince them they're not Capitol citizens but they think they're a pharaoh, his wife, the visir, a merchant, a slave, a priest of some god, so in the arena they'll think they are actual Egyptian people. This is how you put on a show.

We have the arena, we have the tributes and we also know what arena events there will be, but... let's try to imagine what could happen for a moment.

The first day would be calm until water stars changing into blood, this would lead to a general confusion and maybe the tributes would ask the priest what's happening and he wouldn't know, the next days frogs, mosquitos and flies would invade the arena and after this the tributes would most likely start a riot against the pharaoh and his wife, once the rebellion is sedated animals they used for food die, and the tributes (TRIGGER WARNING) are forced to rely on cannibalism, but anyone who ate another tribute will start to have burns on thier body that eventually infect and ice and fire start raining, once the rain is over a swarm of grasshoppers attacks the tribute, after the attack the night lasts a whole day and in this moment the effects of the mind control start to fade, tributes are now confused, some remember who they are, some are still "in character" and some are simply getting ABSOLUTELY CRAZY.

And when chaos spreads we have the last plague: death of the firstborns.

... does this make me a horrible person? I'M 100% SURE IT DOES.

But I really wanted to post it and if I wasn't the queen of procrastination I'd probably write a fanfic on it.

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

Hi, I'm trans (ftm) and in a week I'm leaving for 2 month long camp. I was assigned to sleep in the girls cabins but have switched to th boys. Does anyone have any tips for a trans boy sleeping in the boys cabins for the first time? Also for reference I'm 14 years old.

Lee says:

I would advise you to speak with the camp staff or counselors in advance, if you haven't already, and make sure they understand the situation and fully support having you sleep in the boy's cabin and also do all of the other activities with the boys, if that's what you want.

You don't want to have to deal with any last-minute surprises like finding out they're re-assigned you back to the girl's cabin or plan on having you change in the girl's bathrooms instead of a private gender-neutral or male space after you're at camp, so you gotta get all of the details ironed out in advance.

That includes making sure you've thought about what you're comfortable with in terms of bathrooms, changing spaces, locker rooms, etc, and how you plan to handle things like binding or packing (and cleaning STP packers), how you plan to manage your period if you have a period, and whether you plan on coming out to your bunk-mates (and, by extension, to the whole camp because you can't assume everyone will keep your secrets) if you aren't already out to them.

It isn't safe to wear a binder 24/7 for two months so you presumably will not be binding at night when you're in the boy's cabin which means at some point over the next two months at least one boy in your cabin is likely to see you without the binder as you get ready for bed at night and get out of bed in the morning, even if you try to avoid it. If you don't mind that, or don't bind anyway, then it's not a big deal, but it's something to consider because it can make it harder to stay stealth if that is something you had hoped to do.

Make sure you have a plan for your menstrual supplies if you use any, and bring enough of them to have some back-ups. Think about what is going to make you feel the most comfortable, whether it's pads, tampons, menstrual cups, menstrual discs, period underwear, etc, and then think about the logistics of it-- disposing of used pads or tampons in the men's bathroom or bringing bags so you can wrap it yourself and carry it to another trash to get rid of, how you could discreetly wash a menstrual cup or period underwear in the men's bathroom, and so on. Don't bring anything to camp that you haven't used before-- this isn't the time to bring a single menstrual cup only to find the size you got isn't comfy for you!

Overall, the largest piece of advice that I'd have is to just be yourself, and be friendly to others. Take the opportunity to get to know your fellow cabin mates better if they aren't already your friends-- they could be the ones who either stand up for you and have your back if some other student gives you trouble, or they could end up being the source of trouble if they feel uncomfortable with you and/or are transphobic. You don't need to be best friends with all of them, but don't be a wallflower and ignore them either, and try to be reasonable even when they're not.

You might encounter curiosity or questions from your peers about your gender identity and body. While it's entirely up to you how much you want to share, being prepared with a simple and confident response can help navigate these interactions smoothly.

Respect the privacy and boundaries of your cabin mates, just as you would expect them to respect yours. Establishing mutual respect early on can contribute to a harmonious living environment. Even so, living with other folks means you may have disagreements and friction over things like how messy your space is, how late people stay up, etc, especially when you're living together for two months, so be prepared to stand up for yourself but also remember to try and be a problem-solver and take a minute to cool down before you get into a fight and learn to let some things go.

As always, remember that you have the right to be there and to feel comfortable in your surroundings. If you encounter any challenges or need someone to talk to, don't hesitate to reach out to a trusted camp counselor or staff member. They are there to support you and ensure that your camp experience is positive and safe. If someone does cause drama or is bullying you or is transphobic etc, don't be afraid to snitch! You gotta take care of you.

All that being said, I don't have a lot of experience with this type of situation myself-- I went to a week of school sleep-away camp in 5th grade and 6th grade but that was before I came out, and the next time I went to a similar sleep-away camp thing was a brief experience in college, so I was a young adult and had been on T and had 2 of my 5 surgeries by that point and I only needed to share a room with my partner. I would like to encourage our followers to add on with more tips if you have relevant experiences and can help anon out! And anon, when you come back from camp, please do share any life-hacks you've picked up with us to help the next young trans camper out!!

Followers, anything to add?

[daddy-dins-girl]

Kindred - Chapter One

Kindred.

So I rewatched WW84 two nights ago and the next day I had 5k of Max Lord fic written (idk what happened). But anyway, lmk if you want to see a part 2!

Main MasterlistSeries Masterlist

AO3 Link

Chapter 2

Summary: You’ve nannied for your share of families including a lot of workaholic parents but never have you met anyone that runs themselves as ragged as Maxwell Lord seems to.

Tonight a thought occurs to you that maybe Mr. Lord just needs to let go, for one night. And maybe you could give that to him.

Maxwell Lord x f!Reader (Nanny)

Word Count: 4.8k

Notes: Takes place a couple years before the events of WW84. Reader has no defined age so it can be whatever you want. I'm not sure how old Alistair is supposed to be in 84, but in this fic he's about 6ish (so no baby talk or screaming toddlers here folks!).

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Smut. Oral sex. Explicit language. Light dom/sub. Light bondage (Max's neck tie comes in handy). Max's hair is it's own warning.

...

“Hi Mr. Lord” you smile sweetly at your boss as the front door swings open to allow you inside. You’re met, as per usual, by the sight of your employer looking - in a word - exasperated. He sighs when he sees you; in relief you assume, and runs a hand through his golden chestnut locks that constantly fall across his forehead. He’s dressed smartly in a blue pin striped suit with a stark white shirt and navy tie with a gold paisley pattern which hangs loose and slightly askew around his neck. You assume he’s been tugging at it, something you noticed he does when he gets overly stressed which, granted, is pretty often. 

You’ve nannied for your share of families including a lot of workaholic parents but never have you met anyone that runs themselves as ragged as Maxwell Lord seems to. You know why he does it; that he’s trying to build an empire, something to leave to his son (with whom he splits custody of with his ex-wife) and to be able to provide everything for his son that he never had. But spending so much time with his son Alistair, you see the other side of it as well and sympathize. All Alistair wants is for his father to actually get home in time to read him a bedtime story, or go to the park for a game of catch, or show up at school for Career Day like everyone else’s parents. 

“Thank you for coming so quickly” Maxwell finally breathes as both his hands reach out and grab yours, gently pulling you inside. “My ex-wife had a family emergency with her mother and needed to go out of town and had to drop Alistair off. I know this is normally your week off, I appreciate you coming”

“Of course, Mr. Lord, it’s no trouble, really” you assure him. Truly you didn’t mind, you could always use the extra money. You liked the schedule with the Lord’s. Two weeks on, two weeks off. In your off time from nannying you peddled beauty products and rented a chair at a local hair salon near your apartment. Giving haircuts to suburban housewives was a great way to boost your side business of selling cosmetics and skin care products. You had clients at the salon who would often hire you to come to small lunches they would host for their girlfriends where you could give a small presentation of the products you sold and it was an easy way for you to make money and add to your growing client list. Mr. Lord had even surprised you by becoming a client. He had come home one night to you filling out orders in a receipt book at the kitchen table, a few skin care products strewn about the table as you readied to package them up and he was instantly curious as to what you were selling. You were embarrassed at first, for technically working for your other job while on the clock for him but he instantly waved you off. Alistair had already been asleep for hours and he assured you that not only did he not mind, but he was impressed by your work ethic. He handled a few of the products, carefully reading the small print on the bottles and you noted his curiosity before pulling out the catalog from your purse and suggesting a few items for him to try.

“Makes you glow like a teenager” You had smiled at him as you explained one of the serums to him and he had his checkbook out within minutes, placing his first order.

You would have to rearrange a few of the haircuts you had scheduled for this week but most of your clients were housewives with flexible enough schedules that you were confident you could rearrange them to times where Alistair would be in school, so you weren’t worried about it. And your cosmetic business was mostly a work from home endeavor anyway, aside from the few weekly home deliveries you made which could also be done during school hours. During your “on weeks” at the Lord’s you lived there. It was just easier due to Maxwell’s ever changing and highly busy schedule. He was out of the house at the early morning hours and typically didn’t return until long after the sun was set. Even most weekends he was in and out of the office, trying to be home whenever he could but with his business still being in the early stages of growth, it was a necessary evil.

You were more than just a babysitter for Alistair. You cooked and cleaned and did whatever you could to make Maxwell’s life easier. In the beginning he tried to insist you didn’t need to do as much as you did, that he knew he didn’t pay you enough for all the work you put in, but you quickly brushed him off, ensuring him that not only were you happy to do it, but it gave you something to do when Alistair was asleep or otherwise occupied. He eventually stopped trying, knowing you’d do it regardless, and every few months (presumably when he’d had a good month at work and could afford it) you’d notice a couple of extra bills in the envelope of cash he’d hand you at the beginning of your work week. It wasn’t much, but you appreciated that he appreciated you. At the end of the day you were both just trying to hustle your way through life; Maxwell was just a more successful version of yourself, in a way. You were kindred spirits, it’s probably why you got along as well as you did.

The fact that you found your boss to be devastatingly handsome didn’t hurt either, you supposed.

“Who is it Daddy?” You heard Alistair's excited voice call out as hurried footsteps came barreling towards the front entryway. He slid to a stop in his socked feet and hands instinctively wrapped around his father’s leg as he peered up at you with the same large chestnut coloured eyes as his fathers.

“It’s our Angel, come to save the day again buddy” Max smiled down at his son, ruffling a hand through his dark brown locks.

“So you’re going back to work tonight?” Alistair’s face fell slightly, along with your heart, as his fingers picked absently at the crease in Max’s pant leg.

“Hey,” You quickly sprang into action, squatting down to be eye level with Alistair and nudging at his chin with your finger to get him to look up at you. “I brought you something” you begin, a grin spreading across your lips as you reach into your purse at your side.

“A present?!” Alistair’s eye’s light up suddenly and it makes you smile.

“Well, sort of, but it’s on loan” you explain as you pull the rented VHS tape out of your bag and hold it out in front of you.

“ET!” the boy all but shrieks. His Dad had taken him to see it at the drive-in when it had first come out and he hadn’t stopped talking about it since. When Raquel, Mr. Lord’s assistant, had called you a couple hours ago to explain the situation and asking if you could step in this week, you knew the boy might be overly emotional; his grandmother being ill and his father undoubtedly rushing off to work the moment you arrived at their doorstep. You had a feeling this would cushion the blow and your instincts were right on the money as he jumped up and down excitedly at you.

“Can we put it on now?” He asked, his excitement barely contained as he bounced up and down on his heels.

“Tell you what, why don’t we order a pizza and we can watch it with our dinner”

“Yay!” Alistair shouts, turning on his heel and running off to the kitchen, undoubtedly to browse the pizza menu stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

“I’m getting pepperoni!” You hear him yell from the kitchen and you huff a laugh at his eagerness as you straighten back up and face your employer once again.

“Thank you, honestly sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you” Mr. Lord tells you honestly and you smile, placing a hand on his bicep.

“Happy to help” you tell him. And you are. Maxwell and Alistair have become this sort of part-time family of yours and you’d do anything for them.

“I better get in there before he starts dialing and orders half the restaurant” you joke before bringing your hands up to fix Max’s tie around his neck until it’s tightened and straight, your hand brushing down the silken material slightly and then patting your palm against it once.It’s something you’ve never done to him before and you have no idea what came over you in the moment, the act feeling strangely intimate but you quickly clear your throat, take a step back and give him an easy smile.

“Don’t work too hard” you tell him before you brush past him to go after Alistair, knowing he won’t actually heed the advice, but you say it anyway.

You hear the front door open and close as you reach Alistair in the kitchen, grabbing the phone off the wall to place the order and get your evening started.

…

It’s well past ten when you hear the door open again, signaling Maxwell’s arrival home. You look up from the kitchen table where you’d been flipping through a magazine and watch him as he places his briefcase on the floor before his large frame envelops the open doorway to the kitchen. He leans against the wall, tie hanging loosely around his neck again and hair falling across his forehead.

“Alistair?” He asks hopefully, though you're pretty certain he already knows the answer.

“Asleep” You shrug and his face falls slightly.

“Of course, it’s late” he sighs, pulling his arm up to look at his watch. “Lost track of time I guess” he mumbles and you frown. He looks exhausted, hands running through his hair again.

“It’s getting long” you say, not meaning too it just comes out; occupational hazard you suspect.

“What?” He questions, not sure what you mean.

“Your hair” you nod in his direction. “When was the last time you had it cut?”

“Oh, um, I'm not sure…” Max trails off, thinking. He knows it has been too long. He had to skip his last appointment because an investor meeting had come up and he’d forgotten to ask Raquel to reschedule him.

You stand up, your feet moving of their own accord until you’re standing right in front of him at the kitchen doorway and you bring your left hand up to gently run through the few stray locks that are normally slicked back but have now curtained across his forehead.

“I could trim it for you” you say, your eyes glued to his hair and not even noticing how close you’re standing to him or that his gaze is fixed on you, his Adam's apple bobbing heavy in his throat.

“I… couldn’t ask you to do that” he says finally, running his own hand through his hair as you pull yours away.

“No, really, I insist, come here” you take both your hands and grab for one of his, pulling him further into the kitchen and sliding a chair out.

“I have my stuff here, I was going to give Alistair a trim this week anyway” you shrug. “Sit, I’ll be right back” you instruct and he sighs but dutifully does as you ask.

You return a couple minutes later with your supplies and a towel that you secure around his neck. You go to the sink and fill your spray bottle with water so you can mist it through his hair to get it wet enough to cut before you begin your work.

“You have a great head of hair, I see where Alistair gets it from” you comment as your fingers rake through it from the top of his scalp to the back of his neck. It was true. A lot of your male clients around Mr. Lord’s age were already showing a receding hairline and none of them had hair as thick as his. “I don’t think you have to worry about going bald anytime soon” you joke and you hear him chuckle softly.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do this” Max says into the stillness of the room while you continue to trim and run your hands through his hair, ensuring all the ends are even.

“It’s kind of fun when it’s not work,” you shrug. Plus you really didn’t mind running your hands through Max’s hair, not that you’d ever admit that to him. You’d been dying to do it since you met him. Soft, luscious locks begging for a pair of hands other than his own to run through them.

You finish the trim, place the scissors down on the table and take an extra few seconds to run both hands through his hair, your nails raking gently against his scalp as you style his hair the way he likes it.

“There” you smile at your handiwork before reaching for the handheld mirror on the table and holding it up for him to take. His hand wraps around yours on the handle of the mirror as he brings it in front of him, his free hand running through his hair to inspect the length.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Feels much better” he beams at you through the mirror with his megawatt smile that makes your knees weaken and you bite your lip, looking away quickly as heat rises in your cheeks.

“Just glad I could help” you tell him before you untuck the towel from the collar of his dress shirt and sweep it off his shoulders, balling it up before any loose hair falls onto the floor and placing it on the seat of a nearby chair so you can take it to the laundry room later. You're standing up straight behind him again and before you can talk yourself out of it, you rest your hands on his broad shoulders and start kneading, instantly feeling the tight knots of muscles beneath his dress shirt.

“Oh, um” Max startles slightly in the chair, turning his head as far to the side as he can to try and look at you.

“Sorry” you quickly pull your hands from his shoulders as if you’d been burned and Max turns his body in his seat so he’s sitting sideways on the chair, his elbow resting on the back.

“It’s ok” Max assures, large brown eyes looking up at you. “But, you don’t have to… I mean I don’t expect…” he trails off and you quickly come to the understanding that he’s not mad at you for touching him or doesn’t even not want you to.

An idea comes to your head as you stare down at the big puppy dog eyes of the exhausted man staring back at you. A man that deserves so much more than what life has thrown at him. It’s a risky idea, sure, and could potentially ruin everything you’ve built with this family over the last several months but something just comes over you and takes hold and you can’t seem to shake it off.

“Turn your chair around to face me, and bring it forward a bit, away from the table” you instruct, taking a few steps back so he has room. His eyes glance over you for a few moments, studying to see if you’re being serious or not before he finally swallows and nods, silently obeying your orders. He turns the chair and sits on it properly again, his hands going under the seat so he can shuffle it forward slightly so it's not backed right up against the table, his eyes never leaving you from where you stand a foot or so away, leaned against the kitchen island in front of him.

Satisfied with where he sits, you take the two steps across the kitchen to reach him again and your hands go back to his shoulders, this time rubbing up and down the material of the dark blue suspenders for a few moments before your fingers hook underneath them and slide them down his arms. You catch the shudder he releases but neither of you comment on it.

“You’re always working so hard” you sigh as you run a hand through his hair again before bringing it to run down the side of his face and his eyes close voluntarily at your touch. “Taking care of Alistair, of your clients, your business” you continue, both hands now fiddling with the tie at his neck, loosening it further.

“Who takes care of you?” You ask, though not expecting an answer, and he doesn’t give you one. Just swallows thickly instead, breathing heavily through his nose.

You successfully loosen the tie completely before sliding it off of him, wrapping the silk around your hands briefly to feel the fine fabric. You put one hand on his shoulder and step around him until you’re behind him and squat down as each of your hands grab for his arms and pull them behind his back until his wrists are together and you lay the silk fabric of the tie over top of them.

“Is this ok?” You ask, mouth next to his ear now and he quickly nods his head.

“Yes” he manages to breathe out and you go back to your task of securing the tie around his wrists, giving it a gentle tug when you're finished to make sure it's not too tight but also that he can’t wriggle free too easily.

You take a steadying breath while still behind him before raising up to your feet again. You’ve never actually done anything like this before and your hands are nearly shaking, your entire body buzzing with excitement but you try to will yourself to relax. Max needs this, and you can do it. You can give him what he needs and what he’d never ask you for.

Settling your shoulders and holding your head high, you finally step back around him until you’re in front of him again.

“Good boy” you praise him once you’re facing him again; hand coming up to rest on his cheek and he closes his eyes at the warmth of your palm against his skin.

“Poor baby, just needs someone to take care of him, don’t you?” you tease, your thumb brushing against his cheek.

“Yes, Angel” Max sighs, his eyes finally opening again to meet yours. You notice the endearment slip, the same one he had used this morning and it gives you butterflies. You take another steadying breath to reign yourself in so you don't end up untying him and letting him do whatever he wants with you. God knows you want to, but you want tonight to be just for him.

“I’m going to take good care of you, aren’t I Maxwell?” You whisper and his eyes close again upon hearing his first name come from your lips. You had always called him Mr. Lord, but tonight, he was just Maxwell.

Placing a hand on each of his shoulders, you lower yourself onto his lap, straddling him with each of your legs on either side of his and you can feel him already growing hard beneath you. Max’s chest is heaving as he tries to maintain some type of control over his body, his heart beating wildly underneath his pressed white dress shirt as your hands glide up and down from the tops of his shoulders to the middle of his chest.

“I think I like you like this” you purr, lower half grinding up against his to create some friction and a moan slips from his lips as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours. “You don’t have to think, don’t have to act, just be free… just be with me, baby” you tell him before you lean forward and capture his lips with yours, both of you moaning into the kiss when your mouths open and tongues meet. His lips are soft, as soft as you’d always fantasized they’d be. His tongue explores your mouth greedily, desperate to taste every part of you, lick into every cavern. You’d always imagined he’d be a great kisser but you had no idea how amazing he’d be. You’re so lost in the kiss you almost forget your plan all together, wanting to just stay in this moment with him for as long as your lung capacities would allow. Your hands are in his hair now, fingers running through the soft waves, and he groans into your mouth before he pulls back suddenly.

“Angel, please. Let me hold you, touch you” he all but whines, squirming underneath you and you almost break, feeling defenseless against his pleas, but you hold steady and straighten up in his lap again.

“Not tonight baby. Tonight is for you. This is what I want, and you want to please me, don’t you Maxwell?”

“Yes” he nods, his voice trembling.

It’s clear that giving up control is not something Max is used to, but you know he needs it, likes it even - if the evidence currently pressing against your thigh is any indication.

“Good boy” you praise again and when his cock twitches against your leg, your eyebrows raise at him in surprise.

“You like being my good boy, Maxwell?” You tease, rewarding him with a forceful press of your pelvis into his groin and he moans, biting his lower lip.

“Yes”

“You feel so good baby” you moan, rocking into him, your hands around the back of his neck now. “So big and hard for me” you praise and a whine escapes his lips as he tries to meet your thrusts with his own as much as he can within the confines of the chair he’s tied to.

You lean your face forward until your mouth is on the shell of his ear and you gently pull the lobe between your teeth before soothing over it with your tongue. “Want you in my hand, in my mouth” you confess breathily against his ear and he whimpers. “Can I take you out baby?”

Max eagerly nods, not trusting his own voice and you nip at his earlobe again. “Words, baby” you remind him.

“Yes” he breathes. “Take my cock out, it’s yours Angel”

He sounds absolutely wrecked already and you love it. You bring your attention to his waist and pop open the button to his trousers, sliding down the zipper before your hand pushes eagerly inside to cup him over his briefs.

“Oh, baby” Max sighs, hanging his head down so he can see your hand rubbing along his shaft covered in expensive soft black cotton.

“Is this my cock, Maxwell?” You ask, feeling more emboldened by the minute as Max turns into absolute putty under your hands.

“Yes. Fuck. Yeah baby, all yours”

You remove your hand from him for just a few seconds so you can tug his pants down to his thighs and then shove the front of his briefs down so you can take him out of the confines of his underwear and see him in all his glory. And what a glorious site it is, indeed, you think to yourself.

Max hisses when you pull his length out and run your hand down it once. He’s long and too thick for you to be able to wrap your hand all the way around it. The head is dark and purple and already leaking precum. “It’s beautiful, just like you baby” you tell him before you lean forward to press a quick kiss to his lips and smile at him. “Gonna make you feel so good” you promise before easing yourself off of his lap and onto your knees instead and Max groans, tossing his head back.

You start with teasing little licks and kisses to the head before going lower and licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock and Max moans from above you. “Tastes good too” you tell him before your mouth closes around the fat head and sucks gently, causing Max to buck his hips up into you.

“Stay still” you scold, immediately taking your mouth off of him to look up at him. “Don’t be a naughty boy” you warn as you grip both of his thighs tightly.

“Oh, fuck” Max groans, eyes closing and head falling back again. It's clear he’s loving this, loving you being in control of him. Another bead of precum dribbles out and slides down his dick and you quickly duck down to catch it on your tongue and lick a stripe up his length again. This time Max remains still, his breaths coming out harder through his nose as he concentrates on remaining still.

“Good boy” you praise before bringing your whole mouth down on him, swallowing down as much of his length as your throat will allow and repeating the process over and over, head bobbing up and down on his cock with enthusiasm.

“Oh baby, shit. Holy shit Angel” Max whines as he watches you choke on his dick. Your eyelashes flutter up at him as you watch him watch you. He looks completely fucked out, his pupils blown wide, shoulders tense under the white dress shirt where he’s pulling against the restraints behind him, desperate to reach for you, to touch you.

You moan into his cock. Watching him completely lose himself in you is doing all kinds of things to your body. You can feel yourself soaking your panties, getting off on the pleasure you’re giving him and you bring a hand up to wrap around his length and work him up and down for what your mouth can’t reach.

When the back of your throat needs a break you focus your mouth on his head instead, swirling your tongue around and underneath the tip while your hand continues pumping his shaft, wet with your saliva and easily sliding up and down the length.

“Oh Angel, you feel so fucking good” Max praises.”Oh fuuuuuuck” His breathing has become even more erratic and you know he’s getting close so you double your efforts, taking his whole length in your mouth again and hollowing out your cheeks as you slide him down your throat and swallow. The sounds of wet saliva and your lips smacking and swallowing his cock are positively sinful as they bounce off the kitchen walls and back to your ears and it urges you on, bobbing faster and faster up and down his cock, your hand pumping and gently squeezing him in tandem with your mouth.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Baby!” Max whines and you know it's a warning. Rather than lifting off of him you moan into him instead and continue sucking and tugging at him, urging him to finish in your mouth.

“Oh Christ, Angel. I’m coming, I’m coming. Fuck!” Max warns before you feel his hot spend hit the back of your throat in spurts and you continue moaning and swallowing around his cock, milking him of every last drop until his hips finally still and you swallow once more before releasing him with a pop and laying your head to rest on his thigh to take a breath.

“Oh my God” Max heaves a sigh and you feel all the tension leave his body and a smile crosses your lips. You move your head forward just a little to press a kiss to his shaft before you straighten up on your knees again and tuck him back into his underwear.

“Angel, fucking untie me, please” he begs desperately and you quickly oblige him, reaching behind the chair to tug at the knot until it comes free, the silk falling to the floor and Max’s arms shoot out the moment they’re free and tug you up off the floor and back onto his lap as his strong arms circle around your back and hold you tight to his chest, hugging you like you’re a life raft and he could just float away into nothing if you weren’t there to anchor him.

“Angel you are so perfect to me” he sighs, nuzzling against the side of your face.”I… didn’t even know I needed that” he admits and you smile, leaning back so you can look at him.

“I know baby” you coo, running a hand through his hair again before resting it on his cheek. “Told you I’d take care of you”

“And… I want to take care of you, too” Max shrugs, his eyes pleading with yours as his hands run absently across your back.

“Another time” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his strong nose. Max’s shoulders fall but he nods in understanding.

“Do you promise?” He asks, bringing his large hands to run up and down your sides.

“I promise, Mr. Lord” you smile sweetly at him.

...

Chapter two

Tagging some of my Maxwell girlies @boliv-jenta @suzdin

If you wanna be tagged there is an update, lmk!

[itsnotzka]

Lost Scenes Thursday! Get to know your favourite authors better. Show five scenes from either abandoned fics where you regret they will never see the light of day, or five scenes from WIPs where you are impatient to see them out there. Long, short, one-liner... it's all good reading. Tag five other authors where you are curious.

Sounds like fun :) I'm going to share only one though, as I don't want it to take me five years to answer this (choosing and editing is not my forte, can't you tell?🤭)

This is from a story called 'This Town is Plotting Against Me', originally written in Polish. It's inspired by one of my fics but has already accidentally turned into a different story 🤭 I'm not entirely sure if I'll ever publish it anywhere or be able to finish it, so here it is (quickly, quickly! before I change my mind 😅). It's a translated excerpt, I left the names unchanged :)

. . ....... . .

"Well, let me guess," Aleksander carefully placed the last book back in its rightful spot, straightening the peeling catalogue number on its spine. "The house collapsed while some local kids were ransacking it for fun. Five deaths at the scene, one person still missing."

Ms. Renata Kubasinska, a short, middle-aged librarian, shot him a disapproving look, her blue eyes flashing with irritation. "As if! You and your catastrophic imagination!" She frowned at the ceiling. “Even you would’ve heard about that, no matter how much of a recluse you are, don’t you think?"

"Alright, fair enough… We're not talking about me here. What about this house?" He smiled, steering the conversation back on track, wary that Ms. Kubasinska might start lecturing him about his solitary habits once again.

"Nothing about the house itself..." she muttered, irked. "But seems some woman’s moved in. Saw her car. It’s from Warsaw," she added in a hushed tone.

“So? Is there something wrong with her? Other than being a newcomer from a big city?” Aleksander feigned indifference as he pondered over another unexpected stain on a familiar book.

"Oh, you know..." She glanced at him sideways as he leaned against the bookshelf, staring out the window. "It’s just odd! Folks wonder what she’s up to there. Alone, can you imagine! In that creepy old house? It's a bit dodgy, innit?"

“Not really. Maybe she's a horror fan—there are plenty of those these days,” he laughed quietly, a bit taken aback. “Besides, Ms. Renata, you live alone too. And you know I wholeheartedly recommend that lifestyle.”

"I don't live alone, I've got my cats…" Renata huffed, disappointed by the young librarian’s lack of interest in her juiciest gossip. And she loved her gossip.

At that moment, the bell at the library reception desk rang, interrupting their conversation. Both Aleksander and Ms. Kubasinska turned towards the sound with a shared reluctance, each prepared to curse the world and anyone who dared to interrupt them, albeit for vastly different reasons.

“Will I ever be able to finish talking?!” the woman huffed.

“That bloody thing, I swear to–” Aleksander muttered simultaneously.

“Oh, no! Don’t you even try anything funny again!” she wagged her finger at him.

Before he could respond, the high-pitched, unbearably irritating 'ding-ding!' sound of the bell assaulted his ears once more, almost like a shock wave of an atomic bomb. He resolved then and there to rid himself of this nuisance once and for all, though it wouldn't be his first attempt. Oh, no. No matter where he hid the bell, Ms. Kubasinska always managed to find it. She might be clueless with computers or smartphones, any kind of technology was evil incarnate to her, but she possessed an uncanny knack for locating hidden desk bells.

“Go see who it is, love, eh?” Ms. Renata winked mischievously. “I’ll go make us a cuppa.”

“But Ms. Ren– oh, bugger…” the young librarian cursed inwardly at his own delay, because before he could protest, his coworker had already darted behind the office door.

With a sigh, he cautiously approached the reception desk, peering out from behind the bookshelf to assess the visitor and anticipate how much energy this innocent conversation would drain from him. He hoped the matter would be resolved swiftly and without hassle. That seemed unlikely, though, considering he didn’t recognise the person.

The young woman, appearing slightly impatient, swayed on her feet, then tapped one nervously. Just as she leaned forward to ring the bell a third time, Aleksander preempted her. Swiftly lunging forward, he deftly retrieved the metal, round bell and, with an air of nonchalance, stowed it in the third drawer of his desk, right beside the stapler and calculator. Not a perfect hiding spot, but good enough.

"That's better..." He sighed in relief, knowing the vexing device was tucked away, at least for the moment. Then, he finally turned his attention to the visitor. "Now. Welcome to Mystki’s library. How may I assist you?

[mueritos]

Hey Matteo, is there anyway I can be an anarchist from home? I dont have the means to do things like leave the house for too long so no protests. I know theres donating to certain places but I dont feel like Im doing enough

hi friend! first of all, being an anarchist doesn't necessarily mean youre gonna be out on the front lines throwing molotov cocktails or creating communes. being an anarchist, to me, is living life in the most anarchist way of de-centering hierarchy in your interpersonal and intrapersonal life/relationships, of honoring people's autonomy (and even their autonomy to make bad decisions or decisions we don't like), holding ourselves and our communities in transformative accountability, and to just live life as authentically as you can.

there is of course the political action aspect, but you must understand that everyone is at different points of their lives. when you're in community with people, you pick up the pieces people have left behind, you pick people up when they fall behind, and you shield them from harm and retaliation by fulfilling their needs. You can read as much theory as you want--from adrienne maree brown to karl marx--but you need lived experience and community to see how these theories play out and are informed by life. you can't be an anarchist without a community of folks who are willing to love you, protect you, and keep you accountable.

at the same time, i'm not here to shame anyone. i have certain thoughts about everything and how "allies" have been pushing marginalized communities to speak up. frankly, what I will say is I will never shame anyone for how they survive in this fucked up capitalistic white supremacist world. you are suffering daily oppression from all sides, I can't blame you for not doing much to inform yourself about daily atrocities because you can barely make your rent. but if you have the capacity and are willing to want to do more, just know that you are holding endless knowledge and historical memory of these moments that the world wants us to erase from history. do not forget. donate, share information, talk with your friends, and hold your marginalized communities closer than ever, but the best thing you can do is never forget.

at the same time, this goes for everyone really, but im not intent on pushing the most marginalized voices (BIPOC but especially Black voices) to speak on every atrocity ever when they're already struggling through their own. i've seen far too many BIPOC communities and advocates online be pushed into speaking when they're not ready or when theyre genuinely protecting their BIPOC folks from MORE zionist/white supremacist hate by making sure they respect their decisions to not speak pubicly. again, I don't intend to shame anyone for doing what they can to survive, ESPECIALLY BIPOC communities. It's atrocious that even now racism is still being used to villify BIPOC voices that are speaking in drafts, still processing their grief and emotions, and for pushing BIPOC voices who aren't even okay with speaking publicly due to fear of retailiation (because thats fucking happening!) at the same time, i do think white folk need to pick up the slack as usual and just get off of BIPOC folks' backs.

i hope this helped. long story short, don't shame people for surviving under oppression, do what you can with the capacity that you have, and hold your people close. I hope that helped and im happy to expand on more.

and as always, the anarchist library is the best resource around.

[moraxsthrone]

~♡ title — kind

~♡ pairing — arataki itto x f!reader

~♡ wc — 1k

~♡ warnings/notes — racism/discrimination (against oni). misogyny. fluff. please let me know if i should include anything else. and omg look at all that swagger in the gif. that's how a guy walks when he has a big dick i'm js.

sunlight danced along the streets of inazuma, tiny pinpoint beams shining through the fluttering spaces of sakura blooms as you walked along the stone path, arm in arm with your boyfriend. you’d just left one of the food stands in the city after eating the matcha flavored mochi you ordered. itto had gotten the lavender melon mochi and sakura taiyaki, both of which he’d already scarfed down before ordering tri-color dango for the road. 

you strolled along, listening to him brag about his latest onikabuto victory when you suddenly grabbed his wrist, bringing his snack to your mouth to chomp off a chunk of the white dango. 

“h-heyyy! you can’t just go stealing my dango like that!” he fussed. 

you leaned into his side, laughing so hard at his reaction you had to cover your mouthful of food. 

he stopped walking and leaned over, getting right in your face. “give me that back, ya thief!” he demanded, smiling while trying to capture your lips in a kiss, but you turned your head this way and that, chewing as quickly as possible while trying to dodge his kisses and laugh all at the same time. he finally caught your jaw with his large hand and forced you to hold still long enough to get that kiss. “HA! you steal my food, i steal your kisses!” 

you swallowed the delicious treat, still giggling. “i’m just going to steal more of your food if it means i get more of your kisses.” 

“baby, you don’t have to steal from me. i’ll give ya all the kisses you want for free. besides, haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘don’t stand between an oni and his food'?’” 

“i don’t think anyone says that, itto.” 

“yeah? that’s because i just made it up,” he said, making you laugh again. “but that doesn’t make it any less true!” 

you opened your mouth to remind him that he’s always sharing his food with you anyway when a voice called out from behind you. 

“hey, pretty lady! you should leave that oni and stick with your own kind!”

you and said oni both turned your heads. knowing itto was the ‘one and oni’ oni around meant there was no one else the man could’ve been referring to. there were a few other men with him, laughing and making remarks about how lowdown and dirty oni were, clearly disgusted with the fact that a human had 'yoked' with one.

“humans have no business mixing with oni, especially the women-folk! why don’t you come over here and let me show you what a real man can do!”

you hadn’t been with itto for a year yet and had already heard more than your fair share of derogatory and disapproving remarks from other humans about your relationship with the crimson oni. most of your fellow inazumans didn’t seem to pay much mind, but there were those dark pockets of humanity - scratch that - unevolved ignorance that still believed oni and humans had no business being together, particularly in a romantic context. theirs was the very mindset that took the lives of itto’s parents two decades ago, but that’s a story for another day.

now, if itto was alone or with his crew, he wouldn’t hesitate to puff his chest out and challenge a motherfucker, but he’s with you and the two of you were supposed to be enjoying this lazy, romantic afternoon together. he'd even given his gang explicit orders not to interrupt his time with you unless it was an emergency that couldn’t wait till the next morning afternoon. 

your boyfriend's lava-hued irises burned holes through the asshole’s skull for a few seconds before he looked down at you and begrudgingly muttered, “let’s go, babe.” he went to put his arm around your shoulders and walk away, and you’re not sure who was more surprised, but you spun away from his hold and did an about face to look directly at the shit-talking douchenozzle who had just disrespected you and your beloved oni. in the past, you’d always kept walking, ignoring their hate, but…

“no, you know what? i’ve had about enough of this shit,” you sneered, drawing an invisible line in the air with your fingernail. “i’m tired of hearing cowards like you talking shit about me and my oni when our backs are turned. he may not be 100% human, but he’s twice the man you’ll ever be! wanna put that theory to the test, then step to him and say that shit to his face instead of waiting ‘til his back is turned!”

itto’s jaw dropped, his wide eyes watching in amazement as you - his sweet, graceful y/n - tore into the racist asshole in a way that made new light shine through the cracks of his heart.

“fuck you, bitch!” the hater said.

itto took a step forward, opening his mouth to defend your honor, but you beat him to the punch.

“no, thanks,” you said, putting your hand on your jutted hip. “your dick’s probably only half the size of his too!”

“y/n-” itto leaned down, mumbling out the side of his mouth. “they don’t need to know all that-”

“if you really think i shouldn’t be with him, then come take me away from him,” you dared, arms spread open. 

behind you, itto shifted his weight, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms over his strapped chest like a king prepared to go to war with his queen. but the man didn’t move. in fact, one of the man’s friends leaned in, telling him to just cut his losses.

as expected, the man tucked tail and walked away, grumbling something under his breath about you being a traitor. rich, you thought, considering you’d just stood up for someone you love and believe in. 

you turned to your oni lover, his eyes searching yours as if seeing something new and admirable. “baby,” he said softly, “i-...”

you think he’s still trying to calm you down. “i’m not sorry, itto!”

“i know. which is exactly why i…”

it was one of the few times arataki itto had been rendered speechless, thinking to himself that now was a good time to pull out the ring he’d been carrying around in his pocket and get down on one knee.

“…wanna spend the rest of my life with ya.”

~♡ itto m.list

~♡ reblogs always appreciated !! 💋

[novacainenovacainenovacaine]

Breaking news—the love interest role in Claire White's latest blockbuster finally has a star, and it's none other than Catalina De La Cruz, pictured above, the youngest offspring of Hollywood moguls. Brace yourselves for a wild ride as Catalina, usually seen in their parents' flicks, takes on a meatier role in one of next year's most hyped movies.

But hold the popcorn—whispers on the red carpet suggest Catalina's previous filmography is more "meh" than marvellous.

Is this casting coup the pinnacle of Hollywood nepotism, or will Catalina flip the script and prove they're a force to be reckoned with? Love them or hate them, one thing's for sure: this star-studded spectacle is about to kick off, and only time will spill the juiciest deets straight from the set.

So, grab your shades, folks, because this Hollywood rollercoaster is just getting warmed up and PinkCelebTea will report every step of the way—you know how it is!

View comments

NEXT UP: Our insiders spill the tea—L Alvarez ain't exactly doing cartwheels about acting alongside what they're dubbing an 'untalented and undeserving' co-star. Trouble behind the scenes already?

NOTE: THIS STORY DOES NOT BELONG TO ME NOR ARE THE PICTURES MINE!

I'm new to this so sorry if I'm doing it wrong, but just wanted to show off my OC Catalina or Lina for short de la Cruz for this IF that's been on my mind since I read the intro last night @andscene-if

🌹List of facts:🌹

She's an Aries, her birthday is on the 11th of April.

She's really down to earth and is aware of the privilege she has grown up with, so when she does something she takes it 100% seriously and she's not afraid to work hard.

Lina is a homebody, so if she's not doing collaborations or modelling, she'll be at home, reading or cooking. She loves trying out new recipes.

She's definitely going to put her all into this movie role and she'll prove to all the haters and anyone who has doubted her abilities that she has what it takes.

Lina is a people person, so her plan is to hopefully get her cast to warm up to her through her baking and just good vibes.😊

🌹Instagram:🌹 (template creds to: @helloiamrenata)

My OC is planning on romancing Z Lao or Phoenix Ryder😍

Big thanks to the author for sharing, I really can't wait to play the demo!🥰

[starflungwaddledee]

alright. look, we're going to go into this because i genuinely want to think you didn't mean harm by this, but it's unacceptable to use this sort of manipulative phrasing. especially with strangers, some of whom are kids.

this is not a call-out. i've hidden all names except my own. i just need to address this post i was tagged in, and don't want to add it onto the end of the original post. i could also have done this privately, but i want this to be here for the other folks who were @'d. i won't @ anyone else who was mentioned in this post, but many of us are mutuals, so if you see this post and you're feeling at all stressed out or bad, i recommend just clicking through because i'm going to go into this.

firstly, and i'm going to make this transparent, person who @'d me: i don't think you're being malicious or did anything purposefully bad. i don't think you intended harm or that you are "a bad person". i don't have a single negative thought about you as a person. i don't make this post to be mean. i truly think you made an earnest mistake that could easily have hurt others, and i am stepping in with the hope this can be avoided in the future! per my usual boundaries on reassurance seeking, i will not reassure about this further.

secondly, the post that you tacked this onto IS important and a helpful resource, and it is great to bring attention to it. we should be doing everything we can to not only defend against, but actively fight back against generative AI. many people cannot access the most commonly recommended tools (myself included), so a resource like this is fantastic and i'm glad to learn about it and share it! i don't speak for anyone else, but i've said before that i personally don't mind being tagged in resources that could help me or others and i'm usually happy to share them, especially if i think the latter

but, assuming that you are genuinely well meaning and don't know better, you need to know that this is not the way to go about it. i don't mean mass-tagging, which is fine in times like this imo, i mean your written add-ons that actively guilt trip every single person you tagged.

"if you weren't convinced by the idea of being a good person" and "I do hope anyone I @'d isn't a bad person" in particular.

you may not have realised, but these are profoundly manipulative and cruel things to say. regardless of how you intended them, they are inciting guilt in the reader, and especially in the people who you actively called to come and look at it. here's what it sounds like:

"hey! you! yeah you! come look at this!! come closer! now, do what i ask you to do, or you're a bad person."

there are a million and one reasons someone might not reblog something. being tired, offline, anxious, even needing to run a specifically professional blog with exclusively your art on it for your own financial survival which makes it hard to reblog important posts like this; none of those are bad.

in this case, only one thing makes them a "bad person", and it's "they're pro-generative AI and did not reblog because they want to hide this information to ensure they can continue stealing from creatives".

i'm fairly confident you don't actually think anyone you tagged here has that point of view, or that you really have any doubts about their stances on generative AI. in fact, of the folks i recognise here, they're all independent creatives, sharing artwork with fandom for free on the internet. they are the victims of generative AI, and like most of us, are facing a terrifying future and are already desperate to find a way to defend/fight back.

you do not need to use manipulative language like this to get us to care about this sort of content! this affects us all, content creators and content consumers alike!

in future if you want to direct folks to something like this, which is super helpful and it was good of you to do!, you can just @ them so they see it. you can even say something like "this is important and some reblogs would sure help to boost it!". this is still a call to action, but without the manipulative phrasing, just in case they cannot act for any reason.

in the end, guilt tripping people like this, intentional or otherwise, is dangerous.

at best it will make them feel like shit and they'll feel forced to reblog + share from you out of guilt rather than just believing in the cause. and sometimes it feels like it's most effective, especially when things are urgent; but in my opinion the risk of harm is just too high. because at worst, you could accidentally send someone into a negative thinking spiral. you can never know what people are going through offline, or outside of your spaces, and how something like this will hit them.

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam, hope you are having a fine day. Not sure if this is a weird comment to leave you with, but when I saw the trailer for “Red, White and Royal Blue” I immediately got excited because it felt like maybe one day Shivadhverse could get its own cinematic universe, and I would really and definitely enjoy that. Thank you very much for writing and sharing your stories, they have been a comfort to me for a decade now and going.

I've seen the trailer! It looks fun, I'm going to try and catch it. (And if folks reading this haven't read my books but are into Red White and Royal Blue, I think you may enjoy them. They're available free as PDFs!)

This particular film is being made and distributed by Amazon, but I think it's a good opportunity to discuss the genre and the way it's shifting, which means circling back around to Hallmark Channel for a minute. The OG "light-romance" channel as a whole is beginning to lean just slightly more liberal, and a lot of actors left en masse to join a more right-wing channel, and I'm hoping Hallmark...hasn't really missed them. And I think everyone in that orbit -- not just Hallmark, but the production companies that make Hallmark movies and also off-brand "Hallmark" movies that show on Netflix and Amazon and Paramount and such -- have realized that a) the permanent loss of viewership over simply having a gay romance is either minimal or has already happened, and b) if you make it gay, THE GAYS MIGHT WATCH. And anyway it's not like Amazon has the same viewer base, so there's less risk regardless.

Fete For A King was originally written as a Hallmark script, full-on. It had two versions -- the original "Eddie" version and a halllmarkified "Edie" version where Eddie was a woman (pretty much nothing but her pronouns changed). That didn't go anywhere, which is fine, the odds of something like that going anywhere are quite small, but it meant I could develop it into the books, which are a satisfaction on their own. If Hallmark (or any other film distributor) came knocking, sure, I'd love to see the Shivadh novels as films and I think they're pretty cinematic in the specific way Hallmark movies are.

There's a Hallmark movie director who gave an interview once where he said, "You don't find Hallmark. Hallmark finds you, if you're lucky," and I think that's pretty true -- you can't like, submit your novel to a production company and be all "Hey here's a movie idea". But you know, the more these novels circulate, the more word of mouth the readers give them, the better odds that someone'll see them and think, "Hm."

Anyway, I stand and wait. There's enough material in what's published to make four to six movies or at least twelve bingeable episodes of streaming TV, should anyone want it.

(I would hope it goes without saying but to say it anyway, I'm not volunteering this to happen while the writer's strike is ongoing; my mother didn't raise a scab.)